fanfiction: My Turtle.
Title: My Turtle
Rated: PG
Summary: In which I describe why Colin is my turtle. (Y'see, Col, I can write fanfiction as well!)
Disclaimer: Not really Bradley James.
Colin Morgan is the strangest creature to ever walk the earth as far as I'm convinced. Has been ever since I met the chap just a few years ago. No one ever believes me when I say that we didn't get on right from the start. But he's an odd creature of habit. Even right now. He's sitting across from me fiddling with his camera.
Y'know, I think he resembles a turtle.
He's always hiding in clothes that are just a little too big on him. Katie says it's a 'look' but I don't believe her. Angel backs Katie's claim but really, do we need to get into that sort of--anyway. Col especially likes those large hooded sweatshirts. You'd think he's a petulant teenager from how he's always pullin' the hood up and somehow drowning in those things. It's like he retreats into them. I do my best to pull him out of it but he always sinks back into those things. I didn't really notice the connection til I saw a documentary once about turtles.
The only time he pokes his head out is when we find a moment and he deems it an apt time to steal a kiss. The hood comes down and he cranes forward to brush his lips against mine, then smiles when he pulls away like it's some secret thing. In reality, I guess it is a secret, Col and I. With the show picking up and us doing so many different projects on the side, it's probably best to keep it all on the quiet. But when he does poke his head out of the black hole known as his favorite sweatshirts, I don't particularly care. My attention's focused elsewhere. Like trying not to snog the living daylights out of the poor bloke.
He's also a vegetarian. Me, I'm a steak man, myself. If it was alive at one point, I am happy. So when Col sits down with his salad and especially when he's picked one out that consists primarily of lettuce? He definitely resembles a turtle. Or maybe a tortoise. I think I'm thinking tortoise at this point as he carefully chews away at the bloody thing. Mum's always askin' me why the hell he's so damn skinny. It's because he eats like a tortoise! And when he's not looking, I steal the tomatoes off his plate. Some of the places we go to aren't so bad. It makes Col light up like a kid at Christmas if what's in front of me wasn't alive sometime in the last few months. Mum says I'm lookin' more healthy these days. Col looks proud and I order a prime rib dinner the next night.
The thing is, Col's polite. So when I brought him home for New Years and we stayed at my parents' place? He smiled along and ate the shepherd's pie that my mum slid in front of him. 'Mmm, it's delicious.' he'd said at the time. He ate any meat dish that was served up to him during his stay and when I asked him about it, he only shrugged and cuddled closer to me. 'It's called manners, Bradley. Some of us were brought up with it.' Cheeky git.
He swims too. Some days, I think he bears an eerie resemblance to Michael Phelps. Only difference is, I'm not sleeping with Michael Phelps. Nor would I want to. But watching Col move through water is like seeing him take to any other thing in his life. He moves gracefully through water and could've easily gone into the Olympics. But it's that look of concentration. He has it when he's going over lines. Has it when he's swimming. Has it when he's playing the fun game of 'Let's get costume to yell at Bradley for not controlling himself and ruining another pair of Arthur's breeches.' I assure you, that game is only fun until I get told off. But he swims like he does anything else. Gracefully.
So as you can see from my surmounting evidence, Colin Morgan resembles a sea turtle: graceful in the water, able to hide his head in a shell, and eats green things. He's a lanky, dark, turtle.
Even as I write this, he finally emerges from his hooded sweatshirt with a bright smile directed at me. And I know it's my smile because Col doesn't smile like that for anyone else. Just me. He's the strangest creature to walk the earth as he stands and carefully steps around the Indian Take Out boxes we've accumulated and drops a kiss on my lips. A strange, tall, lanky, dark turtle.
But he's my turtle. And I wouldn't have it any other way.
Rated: PG
Summary: In which I describe why Colin is my turtle. (Y'see, Col, I can write fanfiction as well!)
Disclaimer: Not really Bradley James.
Colin Morgan is the strangest creature to ever walk the earth as far as I'm convinced. Has been ever since I met the chap just a few years ago. No one ever believes me when I say that we didn't get on right from the start. But he's an odd creature of habit. Even right now. He's sitting across from me fiddling with his camera.
Y'know, I think he resembles a turtle.
He's always hiding in clothes that are just a little too big on him. Katie says it's a 'look' but I don't believe her. Angel backs Katie's claim but really, do we need to get into that sort of--anyway. Col especially likes those large hooded sweatshirts. You'd think he's a petulant teenager from how he's always pullin' the hood up and somehow drowning in those things. It's like he retreats into them. I do my best to pull him out of it but he always sinks back into those things. I didn't really notice the connection til I saw a documentary once about turtles.
The only time he pokes his head out is when we find a moment and he deems it an apt time to steal a kiss. The hood comes down and he cranes forward to brush his lips against mine, then smiles when he pulls away like it's some secret thing. In reality, I guess it is a secret, Col and I. With the show picking up and us doing so many different projects on the side, it's probably best to keep it all on the quiet. But when he does poke his head out of the black hole known as his favorite sweatshirts, I don't particularly care. My attention's focused elsewhere. Like trying not to snog the living daylights out of the poor bloke.
He's also a vegetarian. Me, I'm a steak man, myself. If it was alive at one point, I am happy. So when Col sits down with his salad and especially when he's picked one out that consists primarily of lettuce? He definitely resembles a turtle. Or maybe a tortoise. I think I'm thinking tortoise at this point as he carefully chews away at the bloody thing. Mum's always askin' me why the hell he's so damn skinny. It's because he eats like a tortoise! And when he's not looking, I steal the tomatoes off his plate. Some of the places we go to aren't so bad. It makes Col light up like a kid at Christmas if what's in front of me wasn't alive sometime in the last few months. Mum says I'm lookin' more healthy these days. Col looks proud and I order a prime rib dinner the next night.
The thing is, Col's polite. So when I brought him home for New Years and we stayed at my parents' place? He smiled along and ate the shepherd's pie that my mum slid in front of him. 'Mmm, it's delicious.' he'd said at the time. He ate any meat dish that was served up to him during his stay and when I asked him about it, he only shrugged and cuddled closer to me. 'It's called manners, Bradley. Some of us were brought up with it.' Cheeky git.
He swims too. Some days, I think he bears an eerie resemblance to Michael Phelps. Only difference is, I'm not sleeping with Michael Phelps. Nor would I want to. But watching Col move through water is like seeing him take to any other thing in his life. He moves gracefully through water and could've easily gone into the Olympics. But it's that look of concentration. He has it when he's going over lines. Has it when he's swimming. Has it when he's playing the fun game of 'Let's get costume to yell at Bradley for not controlling himself and ruining another pair of Arthur's breeches.' I assure you, that game is only fun until I get told off. But he swims like he does anything else. Gracefully.
So as you can see from my surmounting evidence, Colin Morgan resembles a sea turtle: graceful in the water, able to hide his head in a shell, and eats green things. He's a lanky, dark, turtle.
Even as I write this, he finally emerges from his hooded sweatshirt with a bright smile directed at me. And I know it's my smile because Col doesn't smile like that for anyone else. Just me. He's the strangest creature to walk the earth as he stands and carefully steps around the Indian Take Out boxes we've accumulated and drops a kiss on my lips. A strange, tall, lanky, dark turtle.
But he's my turtle. And I wouldn't have it any other way.