Richard Armitage and Matthew Goode - Revelation (backdated to the beginning)

[richard_a]

It is the persistent chirping of the birds that finally breaks Matthew's concentration. He has been slumped over the laptop for hours and now he becomes aware of the stiffness in his back.

He stands up, stretches, hands high above his head, then makes his way to the kitchen to switch on the kettle. Waiting for it to come to a boil he steps over to the french windows to look out at the tiny garden, pushing his wire framed glasses up on his head and massaging the bridge of his nose between forefinger and thumb. After setting the tea to steep, he gives in to temptation and steps outside into the beautiful summer morning.

When he had snuck from bed at around 2 a.m. Richard had mumbled and rolled over, and Matthew had waited until he settled down again before going to the second bedroom to pick up his laptop and something to wear. He felt his way quietly down to the open-plan kitchen-living area, where he made himself comfortable on the sofa, mercifully soft on his still tender arse - and worked on the technical manual that has to deliver later today

The early morning air is fresh, the sky a clear blue with only wisps of clouds visible. Making an impulsive decision, he unfolds a chair, intending to work outside. Once the tea is ready he returns with the mug, a cushion clutched under an arm and his laptop to complete the final dozen or so pages.


When Richard wakes, he finds he’s alone and the other side of the bed is cold. He gets up, goes to the bathroom, then pulls sweats on to go see what Matthew is up to. It never occurs to him that the boy might have left the house, left him.

Yawning, he is surprised to see the French doors open; he goes over and there he is, there’s Matthew apparently hard at work.

“Morning …” He calls softly.

"Hey," Matthew smiles, pushing his glasses back up. "What time is it?"

“Eightish...” Richard glances at the computer. “You’re up early.”

"Yeah, had to dot the last I's, cross those T's, you know," he flashes a grin. "Putting it to bed now, just have to send it off and I'm done." He takes a good look at Richard, at that long body, muscles cleanly defined, the sweats hanging off his hips. Swallows at the bulge. "Did you have a good sleep?" he retreats into banality.

“Want some breakfast?” Richard yawns again. He always finds the flight catches up on him days later than it ought. “Tea? Coffee?” He comes over to kiss Matthew; kiss him, taste him, explore his mouth.

The moan is low and deep, his head tilted back, stretching his throat into a long column. "Can't tell you how tough it was to leave you alone in the bed when I got up," he confesses. Turns to matters more mundane. "I'll make you a deal, if you make the coffee, I'll send this off, and then I'll do us some breakfast. What would you like?"

“Maybe we should go out,” RIchard grins. “There’s nothing much in the fridge, nor the cupboards either. I travel a lot.” He doesn’t want to spoil the moment by talking about his job.

"Oh, that's a good reminder. I'll pick up the vegetables for the bouillabaisse while we're out." While talking he is poking away at the keyboard, sending off the completed document to the contracting agency. "Look, why don't you grab the shower first, and I'll make the coffee," the last said with a lingering kiss as he unfolds himself from the chair and stands.

“Kay...” Ruffling Matthew’s head, Richard takes himself off to the bathroom, taking his time, showering, washing his hair, drying it. He is looking forward to the rest of the day.

~ ~ ~

Matthew licks his fingers with not even a moment's hesitation. Richard had steered them to a little coffee place with a rich, comfortable ambience despite the eclectic decor, and a truly superb array of baked goods.

"I have to meet the chef," he enthuses. The crust on his quiche had been buttery perfection, the filling set perfectly without becoming scrambled eggs, and the chocolate croissant he had indulged in had oozed over the fingers - hence the licking.

“They don’t bake on the premises, baby.” Laughing, Richard is enjoying watching Matthew eat. He is drinking an espresso, not eating much; he is aware he has to fit into his costumes when he gets back to New Zealand.

Seeing a jogger dodging pedestrians on the sidewalk in front of the coffee shop, Matthew asks, "Where do you work out?" He prefers swimming, but has had to let his gym membership go. Now he runs, and does basic things like pushups and crunches at home.

“I have a personal trainer and I work out in one of the city gyms; it tends to be quiet during the day.” Richard doesn’t want to get into this lest it lead to him having to disclose what he does, who he is.

"Nice," Matthew smiles. "Do you know any good routes to run close to your place?"

“I can probably find some for you.” Reaching for his phone. “We can find a few so you don’t get bored.” He opens up a browser. “How far do you want to run?”

"Usually about 8 km, 5km if I'm feeling very lazy or the weather is really miserable." He shifts his chair closer so he can glance over Richard's shoulder. "I prefer a circuit to a straight route; I would rather see everything just once on a run, you know?"

"I think I can manage that." Glancing up at him, Richard smiles. "We'll have a proper look at the computer when we get home, yes?" He reaches over so he can nudge Matthew gently.

A warm glow spreads over Matthew at the shoulder bump, that small point of contact suddenly filled with promise. He feels himself blushing, dropping his eyes then, trying to recover, peeking sidelong at Richard from underneath lashes. For heaven's sake, you're a grown man. Stop blushing like a schoolgirl.

"So I suppose we need to go shopping?" That blush is enchanting but Richard isn't going to comment on it, lest he embarrass him. "For groceries?"

"Uhmm, yeah. Yeah, I've got the list," slipping his hand into a pocket as if to reassure himself that it is still there. Gestures to Richard's cup. "Are you still busy?"

"Nope, I'm done, are you ready?" Richard hates shopping but maybe doing it with Matthew will make it less tedious.

The thing about shopping with a chef in a supermarket is that almost all is accomplished along the periphery of the shop at the fresh produce, meat, fish, dairy and baked goods sections. They only venture into the rows of shelves for dried goods such as flour.

And by the time they actually get to the supermarket they only have a few items left to pick up since Matthew stopped in at the greengrocer's, the cheesemonger's and the butcher's along the way.

Engaging the merchants in discussion about their wares, he was freely offered samples along with discussion of the provenance of the various items. Matthew used the opportunity to get Richard's reactions to different tastes, learning his preferences and mentally adjusting his menus.

If Richard wasn't mid project, he'd have tasted everything Matthew tasted but he is working so he is careful but enjoys watching and paying what seems like an inordinate amount to spend on food.

However, he isn't complaining. Far from it, he is enjoying seeing Matthew as Matthew is meant to be, confident, chatty, relaxed and above all, gorgeous.

"We have enough food to feed an army." He remarks as they finally appear to have finished. "Are we done? Can we go home?"

Matthew looks pensive, casting an eye over their bags. "Yes," he allows, "I think this should see us through to the day after tomorrow."

He waits a couple of beats, sneaking a sidelong glance at Richard. At the look on his face, he doubles over in laughter. "I really had you going, didn't I?" He makes a placating gesture. "We have enough of the staples for a fortnight, and the fresh stuff should see us through to the beginning of next week, except if you decide you're in the mood for something specific."

He chances a quick shoulder bump as they walk along, each with several bags, and checks to see if anyone is within earshot. "I have no idea what we could possibly do at home, though." Looks mock pensive for a moment. "Oh wait, I should start the bouillabaisse. And you were going to try and find a route for me to run."

As they wait to cross the street, he turns to face Richard, "Will you join me on a run?"

“If you want me to, though I warn you, I will complain the whole way round.” But Richard is smiling. He hates running but he wouldn’t tell Matthew, he wants to encourage him. He will need to warm up properly; he cannot afford any pulled muscles right now.

"Don't worry, I'll go easy on you, old man," Matthew teases, mischief crinkling his eyes. "We'll do a shorter run, and I'll go at half-speed, just for you. And if you get too out of breath you can sit down and watch me run, and take a taxi home."

“Cheeky sod.” Richard snorts. He is very competitive by nature but is learning to temper it. He likes that look, it suits Matthew so he doesn’t argue the point. “Don’t worry about the taxi, I’ll take my bus pass...” But he is chuckling.

Oh, what Matthew wouldn't give right now to be able to tangle his fingers with Richard's. Quite apart from the public setting however, they also have their hands full with the shopping bags. He definitely needs to get Richard alone, right now. "Race you back?" he throws over his shoulder, setting off at a proper speed walk which does interesting things to the way his hips move.

Laughing, Richard lets him lead; he is enjoying the view -- what man wouldn’t -- Matthew is all sinewy grace despite the bags which are banging around his ankles. He lengthens his stride though, until he’s only a little way behind.

“I’ve got the key...” He calls, reminding Matthew he’ll still have to wait.

"Still beat you to the door though," Matthew says as he puts down the bags on the front step. Mission accomplished, home a few minutes earlier than they would have been otherwise. He doesn't think he could have waited five more minutes to be able to kiss Richard.

“You did.” Opening the front door, Richard lets Matthew in first, then after they’ve both dumped their bags, he slams it shut and reaches for his boy.

Matthew, remembering his lessons, lets Richard lead, opening for the kiss, bending under his hands. He is so glad that Richard seems to like the noises he makes, that he doesn't have to suppress them, moaning out his pleasure.

Hands wander over Matthew’s body, dipping under his clothes until he finds warm skin, kissing him, nipping at his lower lip, only breaking apart when breathing becomes a necessity. “Gonna fuck you before we go downstairs...” Richard gasps. He manhandles Matthew against the wall, kicking his legs apart.

That's a plan Matthew can fully endorse. He moves as Richard wants, providing just enough resistance to feel the power hidden beneath the exterior, hard enough already to need adjustment.

"Please," he breathes, unsure what is wanted right now, compliance or resistance, but wanting everything that Richard is willing to give him...


~~~

Later, they are unpacking the shopping together, both naked, both bathed in the post coital glow, Matthew wearing several new and very livid bite marks on his shoulder.

“I don’t think my fridge has ever been so full.” Richard remarks, moving some butter to make room for a packet of some unnamed product that looks vaguely alarming to Richard, which turns out to be passionfruit.

"Oh wait," Matthew says as Richard reaches for another bag, "don't put those away. I'll need them now to start the stew." He looks around. "Do you have an apron? Otherwise I'll have to run up and put on some clothes; much as I trust my knife skills, I still wouldn't want to endanger certain parts -- there are some kinds of pain I don't like."

Richard laughs. “Hang on...” He goes to a drawer and brings out an apron that has printed blood stains all over it. “I got this in a secret santa a few years ago.” He passes it to Matthew. “I am going upstairs to do a bit of cleaning; holler if you need me.”

A last kiss and he’s heading upstairs.

The apron is certainly alarming, and Matthew gets a kick out of it as he wraps the ties around his waist. Spins slowly around, "What do you think?" knowing that his arse with its fresh bite mark will be displayed between the edges of the apron. His question is half-drowned by the ringing of the phone.

“I think you’re a tease.” Richard calls. He leaves the phone, the answer machine will kick in and he’s not expecting any calls, thus he is out of earshot as the message is left.

Hi Rich, hope you’re enjoying your holiday. Just to let you know I’ve booked you on an overnight flight to Wellington two days later than we thought 'cos they’ve changed the filming schedule. Again. I’ll email your confirmation etcetera next week. Don’t lose it! Oh and there’s a couple of pages of new script which you need to learn for your first day back on set. I’m emailing that over today. Oh and the Standard wants to interview you if you’re up for it, do some pictures with next season’s Paul Smith line. Let me know what you think, oh I need you to call me back on that today please. Take care …

The line goes dead.

Matthew's face is utterly blank, his lips parted. He is having difficulty processing what he heard, the most immediately concerning, that Richard is leaving soon. Slowly he starts up the stairs, sees Richard emerging from the study, dust cloth in hand. "Uhmm, that phone call..." He stops for a moment. "They left a message. Need you to call back, it sounded urgent."

“Are you alright, baby?” Matthew is as white as a sheet. He puts the duster down. “What did they say?” He has no idea who’d be calling him. Work usually call his mobile.

"Uhmm, your tickets," Matthew is having difficulty marshalling his thoughts, and he doesn't understand why his lip seems to be trembling. "Your, your flight, it's changed." Richard is leaving, his mind howls. "And the script?" It is surreal, "and interview and Paul Smith and..." he can't go on.

" 's on the machine. 'Scuse me," and he walks into the bathroom. Stares at his face.

“Matthew, come back...” Richard follows. “It’s not like it sounds.” He puts his arms around his boy. “Let’s go and sit down.” Leads him to the study, pulling him into his lap.

“Baby, I’m an actor, I’ll be back, I’m not going away forever, not long at all, I promise. About a month, tops.” He wishes he could take Matthew with him but it isn’t possible, not at this late stage. Not after the whole Alex debacle.

" 's okay," Matthew mumbles. "I have no rights." He takes comfort in Richard's warmth for a moment, the solidity of the chest beneath his cheek. Then reminds himself that he cannot come to rely on that.

"Wellington? What, New Zealand?" His thoughts are hopping randomly around. "An actor, really?" Now it makes sense why sometimes he had strange feeling, almost like déjà vu when looking at Richard.

“First things first, who said you have no rights? Look, we’re at the beginning, I can’t promise forever, there are no guarantees, but look at you, you’re here in my home. Surely that means something?

"I won’t be gone forever and I will be back, can’t you wait for me?” He doesn’t want to get into who he is and what he’s done, not until they’ve sorted this out. Never again will he make grand gestures, but he will dip his toe in the water.

Matthew is not in a state to guard his defenses. "I'd be waiting even if you were not coming back." He swallows past a lump in his throat at a realisation. "I think I got in too deep," he whispers.

“But I am coming back...” Richard holds Matthew tighter. “We’ll talk on the phone and email; this isn’t an insurmountable problem, I’ve nearly finished.” As to his being in too deep, if he feels that then there is nothing Richard can do other than hope he can prove him wrong.

A shaky smile accompanies his "Now there's a reason not to let go of my mobile." He sits for a while, absorbing Richard's words, thinking things through.

"Richard," he sits up, face serious. "I shall ask only one promise from you. If you ever don't want this," he gestures back and forth between them, "promise me you will tell me straight off. Please don't make me guess and wonder."

“I promise. I absolutely promise I will never mislead you.” Richard replies. “I will be gone for a month, possibly a bit longer but not much, then I am coming back to you.

The sincerity that is evident in Richard's tone slowly kindles hope in Matthew. "A month?" he breathes. "When do you have to leave?"

“Not for another couple of weeks, plus a couple of days according to that message.”

He cups Matthew’s face between his hands. “Then, all being well, I won’t have to travel quite so far for a while.”

No sense in bringing up the press junkets and the invasion of privacy he’s been warned to expect. At the moment, most people don’t recognise him or if they do, they don’t hassle him. All that could change or, of course, it might not. They won’t know until December. The thought of it is both exciting and terrifying.

There's some relief in the knowledge that it will be a while before Richard needs to leave. And having a period for his absence helps too. It places a limit, allows him to hope for a reunion.

A thought occurs. "Would I have seen you in something?" He rarely goes to the movies, usually just with friends. And wouldn't have been able to really afford to even if he wanted to, these past couple of years.

“I doubt it...” Richard kisses him gently. “I have done some TV work, a show called Spooks and another, Robin Hood, but nothing that got a lot of attention.” Well, he isn’t going to talk himself up; he’s always been self deprecating and that’s not going to stop any time soon.

"Oh," somehow Matthew had forgotten about television. "I haven't watched television for years. Not really since University, I think. My set was the thing I least regretted giving up when I scaled back for this life." He looks down. "Sorry."

The moment they are done, he is going to google Richard. And see what he can stream. "I must have seen you in ads for your shows though, because I kept thinking there's something familiar about your face." Abashed, he continues, "You must have thought me such an idiot for not recognising you."

Laughing, Richard shakes his head. “I doubt it very much and if you had recognised me, I wouldn’t have picked you up.” He sighs. “I love acting but I hope that’s not how you define me...” So that came out sounding a little insecure.

At that, Matthew dissolves in warm laughter. "I've know you are an actor for all of five minutes now." He presses a kiss to Richard's throat. "I'm as likely to let that define you as I would the car you drive."

“Fair point.” Richard agrees. It’s time to change the subject. “So now I don’t think I have any secrets from you...” He hands move over Matthew’s back.

"Of course you do," Matthew grins impishly. "I still don't know what your deepest darkest fantasies are."

“Not having to fly to New Zealand, to finish the film; most of the time when I’m there though, I never want to come home, so there’s a bit of a dichotomy going on.” And Richard is only half joking.

A couple of things slowly start falling into place; he might not be keeping up with movies, but he'd have to be deaf and blind not to know about this film. "Wait, New Zealand? Are you in The Hobbit?" He sounds faintly incredulous.

“That’s the one.” Oh shit. “I’m … um … playing Thorin Oakenshaw, if you know the book; if you don’t, he’s one of the dwarves.” He is a bit embarrassed. “It’s my breakthrough role.”

"Oh, I'm so happy for you," Matthew means that sincerely. "But I'm 6'2", and we're pretty much of a height. Who would they get to play 'normal' sized humans then?" His mind boggles as he considers a cast made up of basketball players.

Richard laughs. “We use body doubles; you see and hear me talking, but you see a shorter person when Thorin is running around.” Which he doesn’t do much. “I won’t bore on about it, and in fact, I was about to start cleaning and you were going to be cooking, yes?” Richard is superstitious. He doesn’t want to talk about the film too much. Supposing it all goes wrong and everyone hates it, suppose his career goes down the tubes? It could happen. Best not talk about it, lest it tempt fate.

Much more settled now, Matthew clambers off Richard's lap, and holds out a hand to help him up. "Will you come down to chat when you're done?"

“Course I will.” Leaning in for another quick kiss. “Give me a shout if you can’t find anything otherwise I won’t be long.” He picks up his duster.

"Oh Richard," Matthew calls from halfway down the stairs already. "I can't seem to find a kiss anywhere. Would you happen to know where they are?" And then with an outright giggle he trots down the rest of the stairs to start their dinner.