karaokegal (karaokegal) wrote,

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"Fantasy and Freedom" RPS John Barrowman/Daniel Boys NC17

Title: Fantasy and Freedom
Fandom: RPS
Pairing: John Barrowman/Daniel Boys
Rating: NC17
Wordcount: 2750
Warnings: It's RPS, that means Real People, including references to family members, friends, co-stars and significant others.
Disclaimer: None of this happened and I'm not making any money for saying it did.
Notes: Birthday gift-fic for my friend David. Beta and Britchecking by savemoony and petrichor_fizzThanks to filthgoblin for cheer-leading. Special thanks to aeron_lanart for correcting a factual error. This was supposed to be PWP, but it didn't turn out that way.
Crossposted to jb_rps, tw_cast, brit_actor_rpf. Comments and concrit welcome.

Takes place during John's concert tour of 2009.

Summary: John's the big star, but Danny has a certain something.

”When you walk through a storm, keep your head held high…”

It wasn’t really a storm, more of a thick drizzle, but seeing as they were in Liverpool the song seemed appropriate.

“There’s nothing like a fine, English spring day…” John commented to Daniel, in his best Liverpudlian, as they half-sprinted and half Groucho-walked toward the Marriott.

“And this is nothing like one,” Danny shot back in his own attempt at the local accent.

They’d spent the morning taking the “Magical Mystery Tour,” including stops at Penny Lane, Strawberry Fields, the Cavern Club and the homes where each of the Beatles had grown up – as well as the exact spot when John Lennon and Paul McCartney first met.

The hotel concierge had offered to arrange a private car and guide, lest John find himself facing his own personal A Hard Day’s Night scenario, but John had opted to trust the public to leave him be. Maybe they’d ask for a few autographs and then treat him like a regular guy enjoying the tour along with them. The hoodie and sunglasses might help too.

Amusingly enough, Danny attracted more attention than John did.

OK, not that amusingly. Some of was still “Aren’t you that fella? From that show?” usually followed by a detailed analysis of how the voting was rigged and Andrew Lloyd Webber was a right prat; not to mention some choice opinions of Graham, Denise and John himself. But there was also a steady stream of flirty gazes from both men and women who had no idea who Daniel Boys actually was; just that he was young and beautiful and had a certain something.

If anyone deserved the attention, it was certainly Danny, John thought. And of course John knew he could divert it to himself anytime he wanted, simply by taking off his sunglasses and flashing the smile.

Instead he enjoyed the tour, soaking up the Beatles lore and appreciating the pride that Liverpool had in their most famous native sons. He wondered if there’d ever be a Barrowmania Tour in Glasglow to the old family house and his first schools.

He’d come very close to putting “In My Life” on the Music, Music, Music album, but that spot ended up going to “Both Sides Now.” It was a pity because singing that song here would be a major crowd-pleaser. On the other hand, he was pretty chuffed with the show at this point. Everything was smooth and tight. Smooth and tight.. Somewhere in his mind Captain Jack smirked. Or maybe that was his inner Beavis and Butthead.

The tour ended at the Mocha Lounge, not far from the hotel. John and Danny had planned to do a bit of wandering on their own, but the weather had other ideas. Normally, John might have braved it, but he had no desire to face a repeat of the throat infection that had kicked his arse in January. It had been rough enough doing Panto while he was sick, but there was no way he could do the concert with anything less than 100% of his energy. The muffin top was no longer an issue. These days he was more worried about his trousers staying up for the whole performance.

They ran back to the hotel and John immediately threw himself into the shower making it as hot and steamy as he could stand.

Hot and steamy

“Shut up, Jack.”

John didn’t actually need help noticing these things. Civilly partnered didn’t mean blind and Danny had the kind of geeky charm that could make John weak in the knees if he was in the right mood. Like awake.

John had known from the start of Any Dream that Daniel would never be Joseph. He didn’t fit into Andrew’s vision of the part. Not butch enough, to be blunt about it, but plenty cute enough for John, as well as James, one of the dancers, at least from what John had picked up in the way of backstage gossip. Who could resist either one of them, he thought? James had a sculpted body and a six-pack that John would never achieve if he did crunches for the rest of his life.

He used some shower gel to ease things along and let his mind go where it wanted, That turned out to be Danny’s dressing room, where he imagined finding Danny on his knees providing James with what appeared to be a very enthusiastic blowjob. He could see Danny’s mouth stretched around James’ girth and the look of sustained concentration on his face.

By walking over to the make-up table where James was bracing himself, he managed to make eye contact with Danny. Silent promises were made and John lost himself in the hypnotic sight of Danny’s head moving up and down and the imagined feeling of that mouth, hot and steamy, smooth and tight, milking every drop.

John needed to make a phone call, but first he needed a nap.


“Oh Danny Boys, the pipes, the pipes are calling.”

John knew he wasn’t the first and wouldn’t be the last to make the joke, but he couldn’t resist.

The show had gone great, with everything running tight and smooth (yes, he was going to go there) with no costume malfunctions or technical glitches. If anything, Dad had been a bigger ham than usual and John had practically had to push him off the stage, all in good fun of course, and the audience had gone wild.

He knew full well he was a bit of a madman before a concert, pacing the dressing room like a caged animal, working up the energy he needed to give the audience the show they deserved.

Afterwards, he’d go looking for someone to talk with while he came down from the post-show high. Usually that meant his family or Scott or a visiting friend, but tonight he wanted to spend time with Mr. Daniel Boys; hence the performance outside Danny’s hotel room door. John was prepared to keep singing until he was let in. He’d had another shower, making him possibly the cleanest man in Liverpool, if not “a very clean old man.”

He’d also gotten a call from Gavin with news from the Beeb. That’s what he needed to talk about.

“From glen to glen, and down the mountainside.”

“Oh for fuck’s sake, Barrowman!”

Danny attempted to sound miffed but his smile said otherwise.

It was impossible for John to be around Danny before the show because Danny was too damn calm. While John was getting revved up like a deuce, Danny would be on a yoga mat in his dressing room, channeling the Buddha.

“Great show tonight,” John said.

Danny nodded.

“Yeah, it was.”

The conversation was kind of a game, because each night of the tour had been amazing. His fans were nothing short of incredible and John couldn’t wait to get to Chicago and meet some of them in person at Torchsong, another reason he was currently verging on paranoia when it came to his health. He didn’t want to disappoint them, and he couldn’t help worrying that this would be the last time they loved him so much.

John made himself comfortable on the sofa in Danny’s suite, kicking off his already untied Nikes.

“Beer?” Daniel offered.

John had already exceeded his nightly limit of a single beer by one.

“Diet coke is fine.”

Daniel brought a can from the mini-bar and joined him on the divan.

John wanted to talk, but didn’t know quite where to start. He had to smile at that. John Barrowman at a loss for words? The British viewing public would get a laugh out of that and some of them might be relieved to hear it.

“Gavin called,” he started.

“Ah, the ubiquitous Mr. Barker.”

“Yeah. It looks like the BBC finally has a broadcast date for the new series of Torchwood.”

“That’s great news,” Danny replied. “The whole bloody country’s been waiting to see what you guys are going to do next.”

John appreciated the enthusiasm. Danny certainly wasn’t up there with John and David Tennant in terms of Who fanaticism and it was good to be reminded that there were people who appreciated Torchwood as a cracking good drama without knowing every last detail about Daleks or being able to name every actor who had ever played the Master. He just wasn’t sure how those viewers would react either.

“I’m afraid the public will be disappointed; that they’ll end up hating Jack.”

Danny looked perplexed.

John knew he was under the show-biz equivalent of a gag-order. He was supposed to keep talking the show up, telling the “Janto” fans that they’d be happy and periodically snogging Gareth in front of as many screaming girls as possible in order to divert questions about the actual plot.

He couldn’t argue with the brilliance of Russell’s script or deny the power of the performance that Euros had forced him to give, almost against his will, but he knew in his heart that it wasn’t what a lot of the fans wanted. He was about to spill the whole thing to Danny along with a warning not to tell a soul about the one thing he suspected everyone was going to hate, when Danny interrupted him.

“Why? Do you shag a girl? I’d think anything else would get a free pass.”

For a second he wasn’t sure if Danny was joking or not. With his cheeky, boyish face, it was possible for him to take the piss without the victim ever twigging.

“That would be the worst thing Jack could do? Really?”

Even the fans who were heavily invested in the idea of Jack and Ianto should have understood the concept of Jack being omni-sexual. In fact, one of the bright spots in the current situation was the possibility of doing some down and dirty scenes with Evie in Series 4, if there were a Series 4, and now Danny was telling him that would only make things worse.

“Uh, yeah. You think the guys who have you pinned up on their wall, or use your book for courage before coming out to their parents are going to put up with their big, gay hero going over to the other team?”

John was tempted to launch into a lecture about the difference between Jack and John, when he was struck by the phrase Danny had used. It was both flattering and daunting.

“Is that what I am? A big gay hero?”

“You’re my big gay hero,” Danny replied without a trace of snark or irony, just the deep brown eyes and long lashes.

John leaned forward to do something he’d wanted to do since he first saw Danny’s audition tape for Any Dream Will Do. The lips were as soft as he’d always imagined, but the kiss was fiercer and it wasn’t John’s doing.

Daniel pressed and probed until John found himself lying back on the sofa with Daniel on top of him. Lie back and enjoy it, he thought to himself, un-PC as he knew it was. He felt Danny getting hard against his leg and he thought he could feel their hearts pounding together.

When Danny pulled back, John assumed it was to get a breath or maybe to remove some clothing. Instead he sat up and looked John straight in the eye.

“Big, gay married hero,” he said pointedly.

“Civilly partnered,” he corrected gently, before continuing. “I talked to Scott today. It’s all right.”

“You got his permission to fuck me?”

“It’s not like that,” John insisted, and it wasn’t.

He and Scott had never been completely exclusive, but the longer they’d been together, the less need either one had felt to look outside of the relationship. For one thing, John’s growing fame had made it increasingly risky for him to have a one-night stand. He took his position as a role-model seriously enough to forego a quick roll in the hay in order to maintain the image.

However, the option was still there for both of them with certain rules, including discretion and honesty. It wasn’t “permission,” just respect for what they had together. He’d understand if Danny took it badly, but the expression on his face indicted amusement rather than outrage.

“You’re a lucky man, Barrowman.”

“Don’t I know it?”

They were still on the sofa and John’s leg was starting to fall asleep. He had to move soon, and the question remained where he was going; back to his own room, or to Danny’s bed? Anything he could think of to say struck him as unbearably cheesy or downright tacky.

“Scott said he understood and he’d do the same given half a chance.”

Danny seemed genuinely pleased to hear that.

“Well tell him I’ve always fancied him as well. When I see the pictures of the two of you together, it’s hard to tell which one I like more.”

“Does that mean…?”

Then Danny kissed him again, indicating that the time to hesitate was through. This time the kiss appeared to be unfettered by doubt, except when Danny had his hand close to John’s face, but stopped shy of actually touching. Danny managed to ask for permission and John gave it, without either of them speaking or even breaking the kiss.

John heard himself groaning, as he ground his erection into Danny’s pelvis. If this kept up he might end up getting off just from the heavy petting, like some horny teenager. He was randy enough, but no teenager. He had to admit that from certain angles Danny looked young enough to make John feel like a dirty old man.

Danny didn’t act like any kind of unsure adolescent. His hands were strong and skillful, moving over John’s body, stroking, massaging and eventually removing John’s clothing. Once they got to the bed, it was John who found himself face down on the bed while Danny self-confidently reduced him to ecstatic whimpers with slickened fingers and well-aimed kisses.

John and Scott had no iron-clad roles when it came to top and bottom, but somehow with Danny, John had assumed he’d be doing the fucking. He was wrong and just as glad of it.

“Knees, boyyo,” Danny instructed, after taking a moment to put on a condom and apply lubricant

John complied immediately, preparing himself for penetration, more grateful than ever for a man like Scott who was willing to let him have a man like Danny. And what a man Danny was.

“Oh, yeah,” John gasped, as Danny entered him, holding John’s hips to steady himself. He stayed still long enough for John to feel the connection. Maybe he was waiting for a signal to continue. The groan that John produced from somewhere deep in his throat seemed to do the trick and soon John wasn’t thinking anything except a mixture of “please don’t stop” and “this can’t go on much longer.”

Danny fucked him good, hard and long, while reaching down to stroke John’s cock until the world was spinning and every muscle in his body tensed up, just before giving in to the ultimate relaxation.

Once Danny had pulled out, it took several moments before John could move or say much of anything besides several repetitions of “Oh god!” By that time, Danny had gone to the bathroom, returning with a damp flannel to clean them both off with. John had been sweating more than he realised until Danny wiped the moisture off his forehead.

He’d have to be back in his own room before his wake-up call came in and breakfast was delivered from room-service. There were radio interviews scheduled for the following morning and a conference call with the Sony record executives to discuss the next album.

For now he could lie with one arm around Danny and make a mental note to push hard for the inclusion of “You’ll Never Walk Alone.” He’d already wanted it as a piece of classic Broadway, but now it would also be a reminder of this night.

“You know, John,” Daniel said, sounding both sleepy and provocative. “If you and Scott ever want to…I’m mean if you’re interested…the three of us.”

John smiled and sighed. It was something they’d discussed, at times rather explicitly, but always decided it was too emotionally dangerous to bring a third person in. Maybe Danny could provide the freedom to make their fantasy come true. John placed a grateful kiss on Danny’s forehead.

“I’ll call Scott.”
Tags: barrow-mania, fanfic, john barrowman, nc17, rps

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