Oslo Or Bust


It was a beautiful morning. Outside the Mercedes.

Inside it, Jeremy's neck ached. Somehow he felt worse than he had before grabbing a couple of hours' kip in the world's most expensive but most uncomfortable 'hotel room'. He was hungry.

But the worst thing was finding himself jealous of James. Not because of the comfort thing - he'd been on an overnight ferry crossing and it hadn't been the most pleasant experience. Not even the food thing, although the thought of a four-course dinner wasn't far from his mind after living on coffee, red bull and crisps for twenty-four hours.

It was the idea that James and Richard had been alone overnight in a room not much bigger than the inside of the Mercedes. Not that he begrudged James a night alone with Richard. Far from it. And there were no niggling, petty worries that he'd be removed from the equation. No.

It was just that these races were great fun as well as bloody hard work and just once he thought he might like to have Richard's company on one of them.

His phone started to bleep. The display on the dash read 'James' and Jeremy switched on the camera stuck to the passenger side of the windscreen before managing to answer with forced joy. "May! Where are you?"

There was a pause. "Are you on camera?"

James' tone, the question itself; his stomach flipped over. Something was wrong. "Yes."

"Switch it off."

His pulse started to race. He flicked the switch. "It's off. What's up?" He spotted a side road and took it, pulling up on the grass verge. "Where are you?"

"We're not going to make it, mate." James sounded a million miles away. "We're on the quay at a place called Stromstad."

"Is that far…?"

"Distance isn't the issue. Richard's sick. We've got a local doctor out and they're just deciding whether to take him to hospital or just to the hotel."

"Jesus. James… slow down!" Taking a deep breath, Jeremy slowed his own thoughts. "How do you mean, sick? Really sick?"

"He threw up on the second boat, over the side. We thought it was seasickness but just after I'd spoken to you he went really white and collapsed. We headed straight in to shore and called the support unit." Jeremy heard some commotion in the background, and James saying, "Hang on." More barely audible voices, presumably the prognosis on Richard's state of health.

"James?"

There was no answer immediately, but a couple of seconds later he was back. "We're going to the hotel."

"Is he okay?"

"They're saying he is."

"That's not the same thing."

"They're saying he just needs water and rest. We'll meet you in Oslo."

"Okay. I should be there in an hour. And James? Take care."

The line went dead. Jeremy took a couple of deep breaths. Richard was fine, he told himself, probably just something he ate on the ferry. He needed to get to Oslo, hoping for the first time that James and Richard got there before him.

~

In the back of the warm, comfortable car, driven by one of the support unit crew, Richard sat wrapped in several blankets, hair still damp, looking more miserable than James could ever remember him looking.

They were half an hour from Oslo.

"Why don't you lie down?" James asked quietly, "Put your feet up; come on."

Testament to how awful Richard was feeling was the fact that he didn't argue, didn't say no. He gingerly turned, lifted his feet up and lay down with his head on James' leg.

James heard a soft, "Thanks," and risked resting one hand on Richard's shoulder, the other stroking Richard's head, out of sight of the rear view mirror. It wasn't too long before the tension left the taut muscles and he relaxed, breathing slightly easier, slightly shallower.

Keeping up the gentle, soothing motion of his fingers through the short hair, James caught the driver's backwards glance and smiled when he was asked, "Is he okay?"

"I think so. Probably something he ate on the ferry coupled with the roughest sea journey he's ever been on."

The driver nodded and returned his attention to the road. James dropped his head back to the seat and closed his eyes. He hadn't slept on the ferry, neither of them had, due to their attempts to get two grown men in one single bed, and then dealing with the obvious consequences.

It had been the first time he'd been with Richard without Jeremy and he'd savoured every minute. Not that they hadn't missed Jeremy. But to be the centre of Richard's just slightly unfocused attention had been wondrous.

#

"How am I supposed to get up there?"

The idea of making Richard sleep in the top bunk had amused James no end. "There's a ladder."

"Oh." He put one hand on a rung, one foot up. And burst out laughing. His foot slipped and he remembered to let go as he slid back to the floor with a jolt. "Any chance of a lift up?"

Chuckling, James reached for him just as he reached for an upper rung and his close-fitting white T-shirt rode up from the waistband of soft grey pyjama bottoms.

James' fingers had pressed into warm, smooth skin, curved around a slim waist above narrow hips. They'd both stilled, his heart pounding against his rib cage. Licking his lips, he'd leaned forward to drop his lips to the back of Richard's neck, where the hair tapered into short, soft spikes.

Richard purred - actually purred - a long, low sound that seemed to vibrate through his entire body. Still standing on the bottom rung of the ladder, he rested his head back to James' shoulder, tilting it to give him access to his throat; something James took complete advantage of.

When Richard turned to face him, James wound his arms around him tight, staring into the big brown eyes that seemed even now to sear straight into both his soul, and his libido. He looked incredibly rumpled, warm and sexy.

"I'm a bit drunk."

James laughed softly. "The way you were dancing I would hope you're very drunk. There is a camera crew with us, you know. We are filming for a TV show that goes out to many millions of people all over the world."

"Not now."

God. "No, not now." He dropped his mouth to Richard's parted lips, sliding his tongue inside over Richard's hot, wet tongue which stroked over his own, making love to him.

He half-pulled Richard with him and they tumbled onto the bottom bunk, Richard crawling over him, on top of him, not breaking the kiss for a single breath.

James could feel the blood pulsing into his dick, the heat of the man in his arms, the beading sweat on Richard's face as he raked his fingers through the short hair, pulling him closer, deeper, bruising their mouths against each other. Richard's hands were on his shoulders, fingers gripping hard, skittish over his skin, along his arms and back, down his sides to his hips, sliding under the waistband of his pyjamas.

Drunk, Richard might have been, after the majority of two bottles of wine and two pints, but his body's reaction was no less enthusiastic than James' and it was that, rather than any successful technique, that had them both coming in just a few minutes.

Richard also had the presence of mind to kiss James right at the last moment, swallowing his usually vocal cries, preventing - he hoped - the camera and sound crew from hearing anything in the cabins either side of theirs.

"Am I allowed to gloat to Jeremy about this?" James asked a long time later, with Richard settled over him in the incredibly cramped bunk. He may have been a small bloke but he wasn't exactly light, not after an hour anyway. Despite that, it was better than shooing him into his own bed.

James never got a reply and a couple of minutes later Richard's breathing turned into soft snores.

Smiling to himself, James just tightened his arms around his lover and closed his own eyes, not really caring if he didn't get any sleep tonight.

#

In the back of the car, James kept up the caress of his fingers through Richard's hair, reassuring him - he hoped - that he was okay, he was safe. And he was utterly adored.

~

At the hotel one of the crew checked them in quickly and the driver helped James half-help, half-carry Richard up to his room.

Left alone with him, James got him undressed, wrapped him in one of the hotel's big thick towelling gowns, and tucked into bed. Richard was wiped out and as soon as James stopped fussing he was asleep.

Dropping into one of the chairs at the other end of the large hotel room, he sat for a while, exhausted himself, letting himself drift until a sharp knock at the door brought him round.

He knew it was Jeremy. He opened the door and looked directly into the frankly frightened expression on the beloved, familiar face. "He's okay," he reassured as he closed the door again and locked it.

"Are you?" Jeremy crouched next to the bed, hand hovering just above Richard's hair, watching him breathing steadily in his sleep.

"No, quite honestly."

"What happened? Have they said what it is?"

"Food poisoning, they thought. Said he'd probably thrown it all up already. He was fine on the ferry, fine on the speedboat but when we transferred to the chase boat he said he felt sick, next thing I know he was throwing up over the side. I spoke to you and a couple of minutes later he kind of collapsed, white as a bone. We just went to shore as soon as we could, called the Norway support unit and they were with us in minutes."

"He lost consciousness?" Jeremy was in full Father Hen mode.

"No, he just… he was on the floor of the boat, like he was in agony."

Jeremy's expression was one James could sympathise with. Richard was indestructible, he didn't get ill. James couldn't even remember the last time he so much as sneezed. To watch him just crash like he had had been scary - really scary.

"Is there a first aid kit around here?"

The question surprised him. "I don't know."

"I'll ask at reception."

Jeremy was back in less than two minutes, full first aid kit in his hands. Taking out the thermometer, he washed it under the tap and gently eased it into Richard's slightly open mouth, hoping he had it under his tongue. He touched the backs of his fingers to Richard's forehead.

"He feels really hot." They both passed on any follow-up comment.

A couple of minutes later, Jeremy carefully withdrew the thermometer and checked the reading. "He is hot, 100.8."

James watched, frankly amazed, when Jeremy took a face flannel from the bathroom, soaked it, and perching on the edge of the bed started to dab away the heat from Richard's face.

He felt as guilty as hell for not doing something sooner. "I didn't even think…."

Jeremy smiled at him. "You've never had to deal with sick kids." It was a good point. "Did you get much sleep last night?"

The question sounded innocent enough, sounded like a continuation of his assessment of Richard's health. But James knew it wasn't. He played a couple of responses to himself in his head and neither of them sounded right. By then, of course, Jeremy didn't need one.

"I'll take that as a no." He sounded pissed.

"Jeremy...." But slowly a smile snuck out onto the friendly features, and James saw it with heartfelt relief. "Don't do that to me!"

Jeremy bunched up the flannel in his hand and wiped it slowly across Richard's forehead. "Was it good?"

James' voice dropped to a whisper. "Incredible. He's incredible." He hesitated. "I'm sorry - we should have called you or something."

"Why? I didn't think for a second you'd be able to share a room with him overnight without something happening."

"You don't mind?"

"No. But... I am just a little bit jealous."

"We'll rerun it - you go on the ferry, I'll drive the car."

Jeremy laughed. "You'd never make it! These races involve breaking speed limits, when was the last time you did that?" Something pushed at his hand and he looked down to see Richard's red-rimmed eyes scowling up at him. "Hey, the kraken awakes."

He looked hot, uncomfortable and far from amused. "Piss off, Jez," he muttered weakly.

Jeremy stroked his hair lightly. "How are you feeling?"

"Like crap. And I'm going to be sick."

Jeremy got out of the way as Richard sprang out of bed and headed for the luckily obvious bathroom. He just made it - throwing up in the toilet, door wide open.

It was James who rose from the edge of the bed and went after him, filling a glass with water, putting it into one shaking hand, ensuring he didn't drop it.

"Don't swallow, spit."

Richard did as he was advised, then glanced up, eyes even darker against white skin. "Always good advice."

"Oh, ha ha." But James helped him up with a smile, refilled the glass and followed him back out into the room.

"Sorry."

Jeremy pulled back the duvet and pointed at it. "Shut up and get back into bed."

Again, he did as he'd been told. It wasn't normal. He looked exhausted, and his eyes closed again as the duvet was pulled up and tucked around him. Still, he fought sleep long enough to tell Jeremy, "Sorry about the race."

"Don't worry about it. As soon as you're better we'll go back, shoot the end. No one will ever know."

Richard was asleep before Jeremy reached the end of his second sentence, so James protested on his behalf. "I am not getting back on that boat."

"That isn't what our dear producer says."

"Bugger."

"Yeah, he did say that."

~

Jeremy and James had lunch with the crew mid-afternoon, which Jeremy paid for, and reassured everyone that Richard was okay. They'd stayed on with him for an hour or so after he'd woken, and he was still sleeping. Doctor Clarkson confirmed his temperature was falling back to normal, which James had to trust was a good sign.

By early evening they'd made themselves comfortable in the bar, just the two of them, finishing off one of the bottles of wine from lunch.

"You know, I do want you to myself one of these nights," Jeremy murmured out of nowhere, taking James by surprise.

"What?"

"You. And me."

"Really?"

"Yes, really." Jeremy smiled, bemused, "Why is that so surprising?"

"I don't know." He didn't, not really. "Richard's the one who brought us here - I assumed...."

Jeremy was nodding. "Yes, and I love him. But I want you to show me the things you're frightened to show him," he lowered his voice even further, "do things to me you won't do to him."

It was suddenly incredibly hot in there. "Why?"

"Because. I want to know. I'm interested."

"You really want to take this further?"

"Don't you?" Their eyes locked until James looked away. "I know you're worried about scaring him off. What we do at the moment... it's a big deal but it's relative. Nothing most of us haven't done before in our deepest darkest past - the physical stuff at least."

He shook his head. "I just don't think Richard's even thought about...."

Jeremy waited, and when he didn't finish, helpfully supplied, "The arse thing?" It at least got a chuckle.

"Yes."

Emptying the remains of the wine into his glass, he flagged down a waiter and ordered another bottle. "Remember the part about him being a thrill seeker?"

"I don't think this is the kind of thrill he looks for."

"I think he'd surprise you."

"He would shock me."

The waiter brought over their bottle, opened it, filled their glasses and made himself scarce. "I like this place."

But James was lost in his own thoughts. "Are you serious, about... you and me?"

"Completely."

"Without Richard?"

"Depends if he feels like watching."

James groaned softly and reached for his refilled glass. "I'm constantly amazed at how I manage to think straight around you two now. I'm sporting an almost-constant hard-on."

Jeremy almost spat his wine out across the table.

~

It was dark out when they eventually made their way back up to Richard's room to check on him.

The bed was empty, crumpled duvet thrown back.

Slight panic cut through the warm haze of alcohol in Jeremy's brain. "Richard?"

No answer.

Rounding the corner into the bathroom, he found him sitting on the cool tiled floor, still in the white towelling gown, head pillowed on his arms which were folded across the toilet bowl. Fast asleep despite looking utterly uncomfortable. Half a glass of water was on the floor beside him, along with a half-used toilet roll. But he wasn't as pale as he'd looked earlier and by the looks of things he'd managed to reach the bathroom in plenty of time.

"We should get him back to bed," James suggested, crouching down in front of their younger lover.

But all it took was a touch to Richard's shoulder to wake him. He blinked twice at James, turned his head and vomited into the toilet bowl.

Jeremy suddenly felt more sober than he had at any point since lunch. "I'm calling a doctor." But Richard reached back and grabbed his wrist. The palm was clammy but the grip was strong.

"Don't," he choked, turned back to spit out the water James had handed him. "I'll be okay; it's just a stomach bug."

Jeremy crouched down as James pointed out, "You've been throwing up for ten hours. What if it's not just a stomach bug?"

Richard obviously didn't have the energy to offer up an argument. Instead he just said, "Please?"

Relenting, Jeremy nodded. "But if you're still this poorly in the morning I'm calling one."

A nod, and then Richard reached up to flush the toilet - to find James had already done it - and started to settle back between the wall and the porcelain bowl.

"At least let us get you back into bed."

But he refused that too. "Stubborn sod," James muttered as he moved to sit against the wall beside Richard, wrapping his arms gently around him and letting him get comfortable. "You're going to owe me some osteopathy."

Jeremy switched off the harsh strip light for them and turned on the nearest, more gentle bedside lamp. He'd already decided he was too old for sleeping on a tiled bathroom floor, so he stripped and settled in the bed, watching the other two through the open door for a while before his eyes finally closed and exhaustion dragged him under.

~

He woke a couple of hours later. It was still dark, but the lamp had been switched off and he wasn't alone. On the other side of the king-size bed, James was lying on his side close to the edge, Richard tucked up with him. They were both facing Jeremy and he could see their sleeping faces in the vague, dim light that always seemed present in hotel rooms at night.

Richard's hands were on the mattress between them and he covered one gently with his own, sliding his fingers underneath the sweaty palm, holding on loosely. A few minutes later, he was asleep again.

~

After a bit of friendly persuasion, Richard let them keep in the footage of him throwing up over the side of the boat.

Second time around, starting off again from Kristiansand, James really hoped they had a chance at victory, but unbelievably, the second boat blew up too, and they ended up going to shore even before Stromstad.

By the time they reached Oslo, Jeremy had flown back to the UK.

But there was a note in an envelope waiting for them at the bar where they should have rendezvoused, a note which was never seen by a single camera.


James & Richard -

It's not the winning that counts, it's being able to do these madcap things with you guys.

I love you both. See you back home.

J


Somehow, it made everything they'd been through worthwhile.