Work Text:
Lee was about to board his plane when a sword-swishing sound heralded a text from Richard. How did he always know the exact moment before Lee stepped on a plane? It was uncanny, Richard's sense of timing. He always texted in that moment, and it always made Lee's tension subside. He wasn't a nervous flyer, exactly, but travel was never without stress.
He dragged his phone from his pocket. Made new playlist for you. Fluffy. Miss you already. Love, Rich.
A slow grin widened Lee's mouth. Richard did this every time, too. Lee got a new personally crafted playlist whenever they were going to be apart for more than a weekend. It was Richard's way of showing his love, and Lee adored it.
Richard had made playlists since the first time Lee left New Zealand, when everything between them was still dazzlingly new. Lee never knew where Richard had found the time to make that first one, but he had, and it had taught Lee a great deal about the man.
Each song had shown an aspect of Richard's character, a three- to four-minute glimpse inside. It seemed every new list did that, and Lee never stopped learning. But of all the lists Richard had made for him in the ensuing years, that first was still Lee's favorite. Whenever he needed to reconnect and distance made it impossible physically, or time difference made it difficult, he pulled up that playlist. And felt close to Richard again.
Once Lee was settled in his seat, carry-on stashed beneath, legs stretched out in front, he finally had a chance to check what Richard had done for him this time. He almost laughed out loud when he saw the tracks listed. Fluff indeed. Tooth-achingly sweet, catchy-as-hell pop songs populated almost the entire list, with just a smattering of rock thrown in for good measure.
Good God, Lee thought. He went all out. All the hits, from Beyonce to The Vapors and back; these were all the songs Richard liked to shake his ass to. Only a handful of people in the entire world, including Lee for the last few years, knew a potentially devastating secret about Richard Armitage: he was a closet Solid Gold dancer.
Give him two glasses of wine and just about any sappy top forty with a beat, and he would dance, willingly and with great enthusiasm. He lip-synched, too. Put on an entire performance. The performance part was reserved for more intimate settings, of course. That never appeared at parties.
They were in the New York apartment the first time Lee saw it. Richard had finally finished principal shooting in New Zealand and they'd been celebrating. After dinner, Lee settled down to a little recreational green while Richard opted to finish off the bottle of red he'd brought.
The radio had been on, just white noise, really. Out of nowhere, Richard popped up off the sofa and went to turn the music up. Way up. Lee remembered thinking how sharp Richard's ears were to hear a few notes of a song and recognize it from across the room.
It turned out to be One Direction and their take on Summer Lovin' from Grease. What Makes You Beautiful or some saptastic title like that. God, that song had been everywhere that year. Lee hated it, switched the station whenever it came on. After that night, though, he loved it. Even learned all the words.
It was that song Richard blasted through the apartment. Lee had just been ready to yell at him to turn that crap off when it happened.
Richard whipped around from the radio and pointed, mouthing the chorus and staring right at Lee.
Baby you light up my world like nobody else
The way that you flip your hair gets me overwhelmed
But when you smile at the ground it ain't hard to tell
You don't know you're beautiful
He shimmied his hips back and forth and made all kinds of intense emotive faces. He leaned forward and back, really grooving. For a second Lee could only gape, then he dissolved into giggles that quickly became brays of loud laughter. Richard had only smiled and kept going.
If you only saw what I can see
You'd understand why I want you so desperately
Right now I'm looking at you and I can't believe
You don't know you're beautiful
That's what makes you beautiful
Lee had rolled on the floor, howling and clutching his stomach, tears pouring down his face. The song mercifully ended before Lee could die from hilarity and Richard flopped down on the floor next to him, grinning.
“Don't you dare tell anyone,” Richard said.
Lee only shook his head, still unable to speak for the giggles still escaping his mouth.
“I...would...never...tell... Oh, my God.” Lee finally took a deep breath, wiping the tears from his cheeks. “Do you do that a lot?”
Richard 's grin had faded to a soft smile. He shrugged and blushed a little. “When the mood strikes,” he said.
“You're a pop addict,” Lee had accused, smiling to soften his words. He reached out to stroke Richard's chin. The flush deepened, pinkening Richard's ears. He'd shrugged again and looked away.
“Sometimes mindless and silly is good,” he said low. Lee understood that. With all the intensity Richard poured into his work, a release valve was necessary somewhere. Lee just hadn't expected this kind of valve.
In truth, he'd never expected such goofiness from Richard at all. Sure, he made stupid jokes, and
was often gut-bustingly funny without intending to be, but for the most part, Richard was fairly serious. He thought about things, often more than was healthy in Lee's opinion. He kept most of himself hidden behind that thoughtful exterior.
It had hit Lee then how monumental the whole display was. It was a side of Richard he never showed. That he showed it to Lee was a big deal for him. For a minute Lee hadn't been able to speak, his throat closing as warmth spread through his chest. Richard didn't often offer words, letting his actions speak for him most of the time.
That action had screamed to the skies. I trust you. I'll let you see my stupid side. Richard's blush and the way he'd focused on the floor at that moment said something, too. Please don't hurt me with it.
Never, Lee remembered thinking. Strange as it sounded, Richard had given him a great gift. He'd finally let him all the way in that night. There had been times over the first few months when Lee had wondered if Richard ever would. But he shouldn't have worried. It had just taken a little longer for Richard, who treated all things with caution.
Now, approaching 20,000 feet, that insipid One Direction song came on again. Lee's throat closed again, the same way it had years ago. The same warmth lit him from inside. He tilted his head back, closed his eyes, and let that feeling wash over him.
Damn it was good to be loved.