Bradley's Little Hippie - Part 2/2
Title: Bradley's Little Hippie Part 2/2
Pairing: Bradley/Colin
Word Count: 11,130
Rating: M - some swearing, almost-sex (but nothing explicit)
Warnings: mostly fluff, little bit of angst
Summary: Colin’s crashing at Bradley’s apartment for their long weekend off, and Bradley begins to realize what a hippie-child Colin Morgan really is. But after a drunken bet with Colin doesn’t go quite as Bradley expected, Bradley is forced to admit to feelings he knows he probably shouldn't have. Fluff.
Author's note: this is my first proper fic and i wouldn't have been able to do it without my AWESOME beta girlsofthenight and all her wonderful advice :) i hope you enjoyy!!
Disclaimer: Bradley and Colin do not belong to me, and the events in this fic are purely my wildly slashy imagination cutting loose.
Back to Part 1
He wasn’t entirely sure how he ended up outside Katie’s apartment at 2’o clock in the morning.
But her lights were still on, and that was all the invitation he needed.
“TIIIITTTS!” he yelled at the door, pushing the doorbell several dozen times in a recently perfected technique he liked to call the rapid-fire, just to make absolutely sure Katie had heard him. “TITS! IT’S ME!”
He put his ear to the door, listening for signs of life.
Thud. Followed by a long stream of profanities that would make Gordon Ramsay proud. Another thud, and thunderous footsteps.
“Geez louise, Tits McGrath sounds like a heard of wildebeest,” Bradley remarked to himself, as the door was flung open with a bang.
In the doorway, stood Satan himself.
Wait, Bradley blinked. It has boobs.
Not Satan, then.
“Bradley. Fucking. James,” Katie growled, her arms folded. “To what do I owe this oh-so-well-timed pleasure?”
“Katherine, Elizabeth, McGrath,” Bradley gave her a charming smile. “Are you busy?”
Katie’s hair seemed to crackle with electricity as she drew herself up to her full height (which unfortunately for her, was all of 5 foot 6, Bradley mused), and began to silently vibrate with fury.
“Am I busy? ” her voice was deathly soft. “You wake me up at ass o’clock in the morning, on one of my two precious days off, in the middle of a week of filming twelve hours a day, to ask me if I’m busy? ”
Bradley cowered under her dagger-eyes. They were kind of terrifying.
“I just needed a shoulder to cry on,” he said meekly. “I can’t get a girl but mah best friend can.”
“Did you just quote Robbie Williams?” Katie was eyeing him like he was a bird turd. “God, you’re pathetic.”
Bradley gave her puppy-eyes. She sighed, leaning on the door. “You’re mental, you know that?” she said, but her voice was a little softer, and she stepped aside to let Bradley in.
He stumbled inside, trying to ignore her boobs which were happily enjoying some freedom and fresh air in her low-cut nightdress.
Not looking at Katie’s boobs. Not looking at Katie’s boobs. Not looking at Katie’s-
“Eyes off my boobs,” Katie said firmly, closing the front door and following Bradley in.
Dammit, she’s onto me.
*
A little later, Bradley was curled up on Katie’s couch, wrapped in a disgustingly pink blanket and cradling a mug of coffee, surprisingly comfortable considering he was in the Lair of the She-devil. He was pretty sure that loosely translated to ‘hell’.
“Have you been drinking?” Katie wrinkled up her nose.
“Nooooooo,” Bradley shook his head vigorously, wide-eyed. “I’m too classy for that.”
“Whatever. So what happened? What was that about not being able to get a girl?” Katie asked smugly.
“Sooo, you see, Colin and I…well, we had this challenge,” Bradley explained, “this bet, of sorts, called the Quest for Pussay-” (Katie snorted) “- and basically, to prove that he isn’t a complete goodie goodie, we were having a race to see who could get a woman into bed first.”
Katie sighed. “And you call yourself ‘classy’.”
“Hey, it was a noble quest to establish masculine dominance, okay?”
“It was a dooshy and ungentlemanly thing to do. But that’s besides the point, so you’re saying Colin won? Colin pulled before you did?”
Bradley didn’t like the stupid smug smile on Katie’s face. “It was his Irish accent!” he protested. “And his chiselled cheekbones. He had an unfair advantage. And since when did girls go for scrawny pasty Irish boys instead of big men like me?” he added. “Is that, like, the new thing?”
Katie laughed. “Well, it is Colin we’re talking about,” she said. “He’s utterly adorable.”
“Not you as well,” Bradley muttered.
“Oh, come on Bradley, admit it. On a cuteness scale of one to ten, Colin Morgan is fluffy bunny rabbits. Scruffy hair. Big blue eyes. Cheekbones, and the ears, Bradley, the ears! They’re-”
“Okay, okay, I geddit,” Bradley huffed. “So he’s a little leprechaun bag of rainbow marshmallow. But surely…surely a woman would rather be in bed with a tanned and muscled sex-machine than a fluffy rainbow bunny marshmallow?”
Katie guffawed. “Do you seriously consider yourself a ‘tanned and muscled sex-machine’?! If your head were any bigger, you would probably manage to levitate-”
“What.Ever,” Bradley interrupted. “Point is, if you had to choose, hypothetically, between sleeping with mee, hypothetically,” Bradley puffed his chest out very convincingly, “or with Colin-” he pulled a face, “-you would choose me, right? Hypothetically? Riight?”
Katie looked horrified. “I would sooner choose a buffalo than sleep with you, Bradley. Hypothetically.”
Bradley raised his eyebrows. “Hot.”
Katie threw a cushion at him.
“Tits,” he said sadly, “losing the challenge means I have to shave off my eyebrows.”
“Call me tits one more time and you can kiss goodbye your testicles.”
“Strangely, that thought kind of turns me on.”
“BRADLEY!” Katie shouted, throwing another cushion at him. Bradley ducked.
“Since we’re not on first-name terms, can I at least call you Katie McTits?” he asked hopefully.
The look of you-are-pure-filth that Katie gave him was answer enough. “So. You have to shave your eyebrows?”
Bradley sighed. “Yes. And get a bowl cut.”
Katie burst out laughing. And didn’t stop. Great. She is never going to let me live this down. Ever.
“Oh, this is too good,” she wiped her eyes. “But, you know. Aside from that. Aren’t you…you know. Upset?”
Bradley looked at her, puzzled. “Upset? Well yeah, I am gonna miss my hair, it’s pretty fantastic hair, after all, the girls just can’t control themselves when I -”
“Oh, shut up you narcissistic twat. No, I meant, about Colin. Aren’t you upset? You know, that he’s sleeping with someone else?”
Bradley froze. His heart had done some weird little flippy thing, and he shifted uncomfortably. “No, I mean, I’m a little puzzled as to how he managed it…but I’m not upset,” he said carefully.
Katie was looking at him strangely. Examining him. Bradley twitched.
“Bradley,” Katie said, uncharacteristically softly, “I don’t mean, upset about him getting the woman. I mean…” She paused. “I mean, aren’t you upset about the woman getting him?”
Bradley’s heart was in his throat now, jumping around like a Jack Russell terrier that hadn’t been walked in weeks. Settle down, he thought wildly. Katie was off her rocker. Bradley didn’t care that Colin was sleeping with a woman. At all. It didn’t matter. Colin was perfectly entitled to have wild one-night-stand sex if that was what he wanted, and Bradley had no opinions or emotions or thoughts on that whatsoever.
“Bradley?”
Bradley cleared his throat. “He’s just my mate, Katie. He-he can fuck whoever he pleases.” It came out more bitterly than Bradley had intended. He winced.
The damage was done. Katie got up, and squatted down in front of him, looking him straight in the eyes.
“Bradley,” she said. “Look me in the eyes and tell me you don’t give a toss that Colin’s having sex with someone else.”
Bradley looked her solemnly in the eyes, thinking fuck, fuck, fuck, don’t screw this up, why the fuck are you nervous, and said; “Katie, I don’t give a toss that Colin is-”
He broke off. In the dim lamplight, Katie’s grey-green eyes reminded him inevitably of Colin’s, and suddenly he felt the overwhelming urge to see Colin, and to check the colour of Colin’s eyes, because last he checked they were bright, sapphire blue, not grey-green, but sometimes - sometimes they were grey-green, when Colin was thinking, when he was reading, when he was Merlin -
The sentence hung, unfinished, in the air.
Katie sat back on her heels, and exhaled. “Does he know how you feel?”
Bradley couldn’t see straight. “I don’t feel.” What?! “I mean, I don’t- I don’t feel like anything. He’s just my mate, fuck, he’s just my friend!” He was starting to panic. Katie’s eyes gave the impression they could see straight through him, like they could see the writhing coil of confused emotions in Bradley’s head. He broke her gaze.
“You know, it’s nothing to be ashamed of, being in love,” she murmured. “Anyone who spends a minute with you two can tell that you’re close, that you care about each other. It’s not as strange a thought as you probably think it is. But, Colin should know, you should-”
“I’m NOT in love with Colin!” Bradley shouted, standing up. Fuck, fuck, fuck, breathe. “Thankyou for the coffee. I’ll see you round.”
He shook off the blanket and headed straight for the front door, ignoring Katie’s “-wait!”.
On the freezing, empty street, he began to cry.
*
Bradley somehow made it back to his flat. He was no longer drunk, but he was unsteady; he was partially blinded by his tears, and fully ashamed of them. He hadn’t cried since ninth grade when his Nan had died, and he couldn’t understand why he should start now.
It’s because of the challenge, he told himself. You’re crying because you’re going to have to shave off your eyebrows and get a bowl-cut and no girl will ever want to sleep with you ever again. And Tits McGrath will never, ever let you forget the shame. Ever.
But it didn’t explain the overwhelming emptiness sucking out his lungs. He unlocked the door, pulled off his shoes, and collapsed on the floor.
“I DON’T, LOVE, COLIN!” he shouted, writhing in sheer frustration, the carpet rubbing and burning his feet. He stood up, and kneed the wall. It didn’t help. He released a stream of profanities and then stubbed his toe on the skirting board, and the pain was swirling up and intoxicating him, and he couldn’t think -
Fuck.
Breathe.
Bradley inhaled deeply, but instead of clearing his mind, he ended up inhaling the scent of deodorant, the deodorant with which he had chased Colin around the flat earlier on, when the flat had resonated with the sound of Colin’s sweet, uncontrollable laughter.
Bradley groaned. Colin. He was inescapable.
He closed his eyes. I’m not in love with Colin, he told himself firmly. Colin is my friend. Colin is my -
He groaned again. Flashes of thoughts and emotions and memories darted through Bradley’s mind. The way Colin stretched and yawned, completely shamelessly, completely at ease around Bradley. The way Colin left his shoes in the doorways as if planning for Bradley to trip over them every few seconds. The startling blue of his eyes, the shadows cast by his cheekbones, the way his eyebrows knitted together in intense concentration while he was reading. The feeling of Colin’s strong but gentle hands across Bradley’s back, smoothing out the tensions as he taught Bradley yoga. The smell of that strong, bitter black tea wafting through the haze of his morning hangover.
Fuck. Bradley opened his eyes.
I’m in love with Colin.
*
The next morning, Bradley didn’t want to face Colin, he didn’t want to see those blue or green or grey eyes, or see Colin’s dishevelled just-had-sex hair, so he turned over and went back to sleep.
Sleep was good. Sleep was the answer to all problems. Having his eyes closed meant Bradley couldn’t see his problems, and if he couldn’t see them, then they weren’t there.
He drifted in and out of confused sleep, hazy at the edges with the scent of fragrant black tea and the sharp odour of deodorant.
Colin.
*
About midday, Bradley vaguely heard the ominous knock at the front door, through the mist of his half-consciousness. The knock. It meant Colin had come back.
Bradley listened to it, telling himself to get out of bed, but unable to actually do it. And the more Colin knocked, the heavier Bradley’s limbs felt, and the less he wanted to go and open the door.
So he waited, hoping the knocking would stop.
*
The shrill noise of Bradley’s phone woke him up a little later. Still half-asleep, he slapped it to his ear.
“’Lo?”
“BRADLEY FUCKING JAMES.”
“Oh. Hi Tits,” he sat up groggily. “Whassup?”
“I’m going to pretend you didn’t just call me Tits again. Are you at home?” she demanded.
“Uh, yeah, why?” Bradley scratched his head.
“I knew it. I knew it. I just got a call from a very anxious Colin asking me if I knew where you were, because you weren’t answering the front door. He seemed to think you hadn’t got home safely last night, and were passed out in the gutter somewhere.”
Oh, right. Colin.
“So, why the fuck haven’t you let him in?” Katie continued, “is there a reason you decided to let him stand outside your front door for half an hour?”
“Um, yeah. I didn’t hear him knocking,” Bradley lied. “I guess I’ll go let him in now.”
“Bradley, you listen to me,” Katie hissed. “I don’t know what’s going on with you, you positively ran out of my house this morning at 3 am when I suggested you might have feelings for Colin, now, whether you choose to admit to your feelings or not is your own problem, but you are not taking this out on Colin, because he has done nothing, nothing to deserve this sort of treatment from you. Do you hear me?”
Bradley heard her alright. Does she not have a life of her own?! he wondered, wincing at her loud she-devil voice. “Fine. Sure. Whatever.”
He hung up, and swung himself out of bed, reluctantly pulling on a shirt.
Great.
Commence Operation Act-like-there’s-nothing-wrong.
“Thank goodness,” Colin sounded relieved, slipping off his shoes, “you’re here.”
Bradley didn’t reply.
“I…I thought something might’ve happened to you, last night,” Colin continued uncertainly, “you-you didn’t hear me knocking?”
Bradley shook his head. “Yeah sorry bout that.”
Anyone else who had just been waiting on Bradley’s doorstep for half an hour would have probably socked him in the mouth for this apology, but Colin was Colin and Colin just smiled and said, “No problem.” He brushed past Bradley to go inside. Bradley couldn’t help but notice the trace of a flowery scent on Colin’s jacket, the smell of a woman’s perfume. It was all wrong, Bradley thought. Colin was supposed to smell like Bradley’s deodorant, not like women’s perfume.
He shut the door, avoiding Colin’s gaze.
“So, I won the Quest,” Colin began happily, breaking the silence. His eyes were teasing Bradley, waiting for Bradley’s reaction. Blue eyes, Bradley thought. Definitely blue.
“Yeah,” he replied. “Yeah, I guess you did.” He turned away, a bitter taste in his mouth.
Behind him, Colin sighed.
“Okay Bradley, what’s up?” he demanded. He walked over to Bradley, brushing his arm, and put his hand on Bradley’s shoulder. Bradley flinched. Please. Don’t touch me, please.
“Nothing,” he forced out. “Nothing’s up. Well done on winning.”
“Oh, come on Bradley, you know I know you better than that. C’mon, you can tell me anything. What’s up?”
I can tell you anything? Huh. Not this time. Bradley stared silently at the sink, brooding. Colin sighed again.
“Bradley, you’re my best friend. You tell me everything. I tell you most things. And I can tell something’s upsetting you. Please, tell me?” A note of earnest pleading entered Colin’s voice, and Bradley tried not to shiver, because all he wanted was to blurt it all out, and fuck the consequences; he wanted to give Colin a hug and tell him I think I’m in love with you and smell Colin’s sweet hair and feel his tiny little shoulders while he held him, and brush against his huge, silly ears, and fuck, he just wanted to hold him, hold him close, and tight, but gentle, and -
“Nothing’s wrong, Colin.”
Colin took his hand away from Bradley’s shoulder, with hurt eyes. “Is this about the quest thing?” he asked suddenly. “Are you mad because I won it?”
Bradley looked up at him, startled. What is he talking about?
Colin frowned. “Oh...I think…I think I get it now. You’re annoyed because…because I went home with - with that girl before you, because - well, you should have got the girl first because you’re the good-looking one, and now you’re mad because you have to shave off your eyebrows and get a bowl-cut.”
Bradley almost laughed. The quest, the fucking quest, the stupid quest. Oh, how wrong you have it.
Colin stepped back, and must have mistaken Bradley’s silence as a confession. “Okay…look, Bradley, if it’s upsetting you that much, you don’t have to go through with it, you know.” He bit his lip. “I’m sorry. You don’t have to do all that stupid haircutting stuff. We’ll just…we’ll just call it a draw, yeah?”
Bradley couldn’t speak. Stop it, stop being so nice. “Yeah, okay, whatever,” he replied.
Colin’s eyes flashed.
“Look, Bradley, I’m trying to talk to you here, so could you stop being such a prick for just a second and talk to me!” he burst out, then instantly looked regretful, glancing at his feet.
Bradley’s heart was beating wildly, a military tattoo against his chest. He deserved this, he deserved to be yelled at, he knew, but Colin never shouted at him, and for some reason it hurt worse than being screamed at by Katie, or by the directors, or even by his own mother.
“I just-” Colin began, softer. “I just…I thought you’d be a bit happier for me, y’know? That I actually managed to get a girl for once.” He looked embarrassed. “Because I never get the girls, it’s always you, so I thought you…I thought you’d be a good sport about it. I didn’t think you were a sore loser, or I would have just told Grace to get with you instead.”
The words hit Bradley like a fist in the gut. A sore loser? The only thing I’m losing right now, is my mind. Over you. Jesus, Col.
“Bradley?”
Colin was gazing at him, like he was trying to read Bradley’s expression. And, oh, those big blue eyes were filled with so much hurt that Bradley wanted to break through the frigid ice wall he had created and make it all better right then and there, because Colin looked so hurt and so bewildered and so lost, like a rabbit caught blinded in the headlights of a truck. Bradley turned around, unable to look at those dark blue eyes gazing sadly back at him, and stumbled back into his room, leaving Colin standing alone in the kitchen. As he dove into the safety of his bedroom, he heard Colin whimper softly behind him, and that whimper nearly tore Bradley’s heart in two, but he shut the door anyway.
*
When Bradley emerged from his room later, the flat was empty. Colin had disappeared, and for a heart-stopping, heart-wrenching moment, Bradley thought he might have packed up and left to return to his hotel; panicking, Bradley burst into Colin’s room, and exhaled in relief at the sight of Colin’s clothes strewn all over the bed.
Although maybe it would be better if he had left, Bradley brooded. Then he wouldn’t be suffering through me being a prick. And then I could just stop moping and go back to being normal Bradley.
He lay on his bed, staring at the ceiling, wondering how the hell he was going to fall out of love with Colin Morgan.
*
Bradley couldn’t eat all day. He tossed restlessly on his bed, awaiting Katie’s next furious call, which he was certain would come, and she didn’t fail him.
“Hey, Bradley.”
Wow, she actually sounded more like a lady and less like a she-devil, for once.
“Hey, Katie.”
Not calling her ‘Tits’ did the trick. Katie was softer, more civil, almost friendly, to Bradley as he explained what had happened after he’d let Colin in.
“So,” she sighed. “What are you going to do now? Tell him how you feel?”
“No! No, no, no, no. I couldn’t. I can’t. I’m just going to wait for it to pass over. It must be just a phase.”
“Bradley, being in love doesn’t just ‘pass over’. Especially not when you’re in love with someone you see every day, someone you’ve known for years, someone who’s your best friend.”
Bradley sighed. “That’s the problem. I can’t tell him I might be in love with him. He’s my best friend.”
“Bradley, there are two types of ‘being in love’. One, is when you’re in love with someone you’ve had a crush on. Someone you don’t know very well, but who you’re absolutely infatuated with. And it starts to border on obsessiveness.” Katie paused. “The other type of ‘being in love’, is when you fall in love with your best friend. With someone you’ve known forever, someone you know like the back of your hand. And it’s the sort of love that actually lasts, because it’s built on better foundations than having a crush. Do you hear me?”
“Yeah.”
They stayed silent for a moment, Katie’s words sinking in. Painfully, he had to admit she was right. Damn you women and your knowledge of everything soppy and sweet.
But it didn’t change anything. Colin could never find out how Bradley felt. Bradley needed their friendship more than anything else on this planet, and definitely more than he needed Colin’s love.
*
Colin didn’t return that evening. Bradley felt a deep loneliness, which he thought was ridiculous, seeing as Colin had only been staying there for three days. Pull yourself together, James, Bradley told himself.
Katie had told him how to make it up to Colin. “You need to make him laugh,” she had said firmly, “if you want him to forgive you and get back in his good books. You need to show him you’re a good sport, and follow through with this stupid Quest of yours. You lost, so you need to do what you promised.”
Bradley had his doubts, fairly certain Katie only wanted him to do it for her own entertainment, but he didn’t know what else to do, so he let her come over, and deciding the world was probably going to end anyway when he shaved off his eyebrows, he let her give him a bowl-cut.
“I can’t believe this is happening,” he groaned, resigning himself to social suicide, as Katie brandished a pair of kitchen scissors, an evil glint in her eye. “Can you at least try to make it half-decent? So I can keep a shred of self-respect?”
Katie laughed like a madwoman. “Kiddo, there is no such thing as a half-decent bowl-cut. And trust me, the world will be better off when Bradley James loses all his self-respect. You might become less of a twat and more like Colin.”
Bradley swore at her.
*
It took Bradley a lot of self-restraint not to murder Katie, half an hour later as he stared at his reflection in the mirror.
Fuck. My. Life.
He would never tease Colin about his Merlin bowl-cut ever again.
“One day,” he told Katie, “I am going to break into your apartment while you’re asleep, and shave off all of your stupid beloved hair, so you’ll know what this shame feels like.”
Katie smiled at him sweetly.
*
It was late when Bradley heard the front door open and Colin come in. He’d been planning to go and apologize, but as he lay still, listening to Colin’s clumsy footsteps, he lost the courage. Bradley James, the cowardly twat. He couldn’t believe himself.
He lay silently, barely breathing, as Colin fumbled around in the kitchen, and heard the kettle whistle. Bradley closed his eyes, half hoping Colin would burst in to his room and yell at him, so that then Bradley could be angry at him instead of in love with him and everything would be so much easier to deal with.
But Bradley’s thoughts slipped off the track, onto some other winding path, and meandered into forbidden pastures; thinking of Colin’s hand on his shoulder, the warm and gentle weight of it, and of how perfectly Colin had fit into his arms while Bradley was pinning him down to stop him throwing the pants over the balcony; the way his arms had encircled Colin, trapping him gently as he struggled, laughing -
Yesterday, he sung dully in his head, all my troubles seemed so far away…
Colin was humming in the kitchen, accompanied by the soft clink of teacups and the warm whoosh of a running tap.
Now I need a place to hide away. Oh, I believe…in yesterday.
*
He emerged from his room later that night, having heard Colin shuffle into his room and close the door.
Bradley went to lock the front door and turn out the lights, when he noticed the lone cup of cold black tea sitting on the countertop, in Bradley’s special mug.
Colin.
*
Morning.
It was Colin’s last day here. The next day, they were back to the whirlwind schedule of Merlin.
Bradley had one more day to make this right, to go back to normal, before filming swept him off his feet and consumed his every thought.
The apartment was empty once again. Bradley couldn’t help wondering where Colin was disappearing off to. With a sharp pang, the image of Colin curled up with Leggy the Blonde on her couch watching Buffy flashed across Bradley’s mind. Mine! a little voice in his head shouted immediately.
Bradley shook himself, trying to clear his head.
Stop, he told himself sternly. You can’t love Colin, so just stop. It’s better if he’s with her.
Bradley gathered his balls, tried to find an ounce of bravado and, grabbing his razor, headed for the bathroom.
He stared at himself in the mirror. He was a mess. His eyes were red from anxiousness, his face was breaking out, his beard was wild and prickly and a horrible mustard-blonde colour, and that blasted bowl-cut made him look like an eighteenth century mummy’s boy.
He sighed. It didn’t get much worse than this. So fuck it, the eyebrows could go too.
Feeling like a complete idiot, he slicked shaving cream over each eyebrow, and without giving himself the chance to rethink what a bad idea this was, he drew the razor over his right eyebrow and shouted “HOLY COW I’M SHAVING OFF MY EYEBROWS.”
Bradley stared.
Hooooly fuck, make-up is gonna kill me, he realized. Probably should’ve thought that one through…
He looked like the Hunchback of Notre Dame. He was torn between bursting out laughing, or bursting into tears. Not that Bradley did the whole bursting-into-tears thing. Because he was a Tough Lad.
Yeah. A Tough Lad with a bowl-cut, who had just shaved off his eyebrow and now resembled a hobo who’d gotten into a fight with a lawn mower.
Just as he had placed the razor on his left eyebrow, the front door banged open.
Bradley froze.
“Bradley!” Colin’s voice yelled. “Bradley, I need to talk to you. Bradley, I know you’re at home.”
Bradley reached for the bathroom door to close it, lock it, hide - but it was too late. Colin had heard him in there. “Bradley, please, I need to talk to you.” He burst in.
“Bradley, I’m really sorry for yelling at you yesterday, I just hate it when you’re mad at me, I feel terrible for-”
Colin broke off suddenly, staring at Bradley. “What…the…fark happened to your face?!”
Bradley swallowed. “I, um,” he said lamely, holding up the razor. But Bradley was too busy staring at Colin to finish his own sentence. Because Colin was standing there in what was possibly the most ridiculous outfit of all time; some kind of green turban, a hugely oversized gold shawl, and a pair of pink, green and yellow pants that ought to be made illegal for being such a tasteless eyesore.
Colin was wearing the hippy pants.
Colin…Colin’s wearing the hippy pants. Bradley stared, trying to register what he was seeing. Meanwhile, Colin looked from the razor to Bradley’s face, back and forth, until realization dawned in his eyes, too.
“You-you shaved your eyebrow off?” he choked out. Bradley nodded sheepishly. “
And - oh my god, who gave you a bowl-cut?” Colin yelped, reaching out to touch Bradley’s hair. Bradley flinched again, and suddenly Colin burst out laughing. He laughed and laughed without stopping, doubled over. “You…you look…you look so ridiculous! ” he wheezed. “I told you - I told you you didn’t have to do it! Why’d you do it, you nong!”
His sweet laughter bounced off the bathroom walls and Bradley was about to reply that Colin was in no place to be calling anybody else ridiculous or a nong because he was wearing hot pink and canary yellow and emerald green hippie pants shot with purple, but instead Bradley sat down on the floor, and began to cry.
He wasn’t sure why, entirely. He’d tried not to, but from the moment Colin had burst into the bathroom apologizing, he’d known the tears were going to erupt. Shameful. Just, plain, embarrassing.
Colin stopped laughing abruptly, and looked down at Bradley in confusion.
“Hey, hey, hey,” he said softly, sliding down to sit next to Bradley. “Woah. Bradley. What’s going on?”
Bradley drew a deep breath, and scrubbed his face on his sleeve. “Sorry. Jesus. I can’t believe you have to see me like this.” He breathed in deeply again. “You must think I’m such a girl.”
Colin laughed sweetly. “Well, maybe a little.”
Bradley turned and gazed at him. Colin didn’t flinch; he looked confused, but complacently held Bradley’s gaze.
God. Colin’s face. Bradley felt the overwhelming urge to reach out and trace every line, every curve and dip and shadow of Colin’s face; to map out those eyebrows that had a life of their own, to brush against those long, curling black lashes, to know the contours of his cheekbones, and oh, Colin’s eyes. They were grey-green.
Bradley looked away. “I’m sorry,” he mumbled. “For being, y’know. An absolute asshole the last couple of days.”
Colin blinked. “No, don’t be. I should be sorry. I shouldn’t have gone home with her and left you there on your own. I wasn’t a very good mate.”
“Colin, we were on a quest. That’s what you were meant to do.”
“Yeah, but…” Colin trailed off. “Bros before hos, y’know?”
Bros. Bradley groaned. Bros, and that’s all they would ever be. “It wasn’t your fault, Col.”
Colin shook his head. “I’m really sorry about yelling at you yesterday, I should’ve just given you space. So…well, I-I rescued the hippie pants from the street, they were still there - I guess nobody felt the urge to take home a pair of pink hippy pants, can’t think why - and…I borrowed some of Angel’s hippy clothes to, y’know, cheer you up. To make it up to you.”
Bradley gazed at Colin wordlessly, barely listening to what he was saying.
“That’s where I was yesterday,” Colin continued. “At Angel’s. I - I couldn’t deal with the guilt.”
Guilt?! thought Bradley wildly. YOU did nothing wrong, I should be the one on my knees begging for forgiveness, I was the one who was a total cock -
Colin put his hand on Bradley’s arm. “So, are we all good? Friends again?”
Bradley froze. Please, please don’t touch me, I can’t- he looked up at Colin.
“Colin,” he blurted out, without thinking, “I think I’m in love with you.”
Colin went completely still.
Bradley thought he could hear Colin’s heart beating, maybe even louder and faster than his own.
Shit, shit, shit, shit, take it back, quickly, take it back -
“Why?”
Bradley was taken aback by the simple, unexpected question. “Why do I think I’m in love with you? Because…because I couldn’t bear to see you go off with that blonde woman. Because I - I didn’t know how to tell you. Because when you weren’t here, this place was just…weird. Lonely.”
Colin lowered his head; Bradley could see the shy half-smile he was trying to hide.
“No,” Colin said, “I meant…why would you love me? I mean…you’re Bradley James. You could have anyone you wanted. You’re…well, you’re fit. Why would you like me?”
Bradley stared at him incredulously. “Why wouldn’t I like you? I’ve - you - I-” he broke off, his chest constricting. “I don’t know. You’re adorable?”
Colin burst out laughing. “What?”
“I dunno! According to Katie McTits, you’re, like, fluffy little rainbow bunny rabbits or something.”
Colin snorted. “Why does everyone think I’m some sweet little angel?”
“Because you are. A total goodie goodie.”
Colin smiled at Bradley fondly. “You know,” he said shyly. “I feel honoured. That you like me.”
“Love you,” Bradley corrected.
Colin smiled even more. His fingers were playing with Bradley’s sleeve, tugging at the loose threads, dangerously close to Bradley’s hand. “And why honoured?” Bradley added. “That’s just stupid.”
“Well, you’re way out of my league,” Colin said in a small voice. “And, well. It’s just - I don’t think I’m gay. But I think I may have a crush on you. A friend-crush.”
Bradley felt his heart skip a beat. He wasn’t sure what Colin meant, but he understood perfectly Colin’s confusion, his inability to express why he was attracted to Bradley. It was exactly how Bradley felt about Colin. There was something about Colin, but he couldn’t quite put a finger on it.
“Colin, I don’t deserve you, and that’s why I’ve been a twat, because hell, I was jealous of that blonde girl, and I would do anything, anything to make it up to you. That’s why I shaved my eyebrow off and let that devil-woman McTits give me a bowl-cut. That’s - that’s how much I love you, Colin.”
Colin was smiling now, smiling that big goofy grin and suddenly Bradley found himself smiling idiotically as well.
“You’re an idiot,” Colin shook his head, “why didn’t you just tell me, you big goob.”
“I was scared!” Bradley said defensively, then before he could stop himself, added, “and nobody says goob anymore, Granny Morgan.”
Colin chose to ignore that bit. “The great Bradley James, scared?” he teased.
“Shut it! I was… scared. I didn’t want you to freak out, I didn’t want things to change between us.” Bradley couldn’t look at Colin. He was too scared of Colin’s response. Of course things will change, now, he thought. Colin will never look at me in the same way. He’ll-
And then Colin’s hand was on his. Just resting there, confident yet somehow tentative.
Bradley stared at it. He stared at the long, slender fingers and those beautiful knuckles, the shape of Colin’s hand, the way it sat so perfectly over Bradley’s. Bradley turned the palm of his hand up. Colin’s hand was warm and soft and huge and strong and gentle. Bradley interlocked his fingers with Colin’s; it was like the last two pieces of a jigsaw puzzle had been fitted together, completing the picture. A perfect fit.
Bradley looked up at Colin, terrified of what he would find. Because he knew Colin’s eyes would give him the final verdict: yes or no .
It was like being electrocuted. Colin’s eyes burned with a fierce intensity, now so blue that Bradley almost had to look away. But Bradley held his gaze. He knew what that gaze said.
It said yes.
And it was always Bradley who led, Bradley who took control, Bradley who planned and schemed and pranked and executed, but now it was Colin. And Bradley didn’t mind, because all thoughts had left his mind, except one; kiss.
So they did.
And Bradley put his hands in Colin’s hair and smoothed it down and ruffled it up just because he could, and his fingers explored Colin’s cheekbones and traced along the side of Colin’s face and ears and cupped his chin, and all the while their lips were interlocked in a waltz with no music, and their tongues played hide and seek.
“Should we maybe take this somewhere more romantic than my bathroom floor?” Bradley murmured into Colin’s neck, palms splayed against Colin’s hands. Colin laughed his agreement, and they stumbled out, kissing in a passionate tango of interlocked lips, using their hands to feel their way to Bradley’s bedroom.
*
Colin groaned, his hands buried in Bradley’s hair. Bradley couldn’t bear it, couldn’t bear the heat, the burning need - he couldn’t bear it one second longer. He pulled Colin onto the bed, tugging off his own shirt.
“You know,” Colin muttered, his arms locked around Bradley’s bare, rippling shoulders, “I never actually…had sex with Grace.”
Bradley jolted, and yelped. “WHAT?!”
Colin smiled against Bradley’s hair. “We went back to her place, and made out, but it didn’t go any further.”
Bradley’s jaw dropped. “You mean - you - wait, that means you didn’t actually win the Quest! I shaved my eyebrow off for nothing!” Bradley said, outraged but not really.
Colin smiled cheekily. “Well, technically the aim of the Quest was to get a woman into bed. I slept in her bed. We just didn’t have sex.”
Bradley felt a smile creeping over his face. “You sly little minx. Why not?”
Colin shrugged beneath Bradley’s torso. “Dunno. There was no chemistry.”
Bradley held him closer, pressing his lips to the hollow between Colin's shoulder and neck, breathing heat down Colin’s back and feeling that slender body quiverbeneath him.
“And what about now, Morgan,” he murmured. “Is there chemistry now?”
Colin’s long, low moan was answer enough.
Bradley ran his hands along Colin’s sleek torso, imagining all the ways Colin could bend his body.
“You’re my little hippie,” Bradley murmured in Colin’s ear, fumbling to pull off the ridiculous gold shawl.
“I’m not little!” Colin protested, as Bradley reached for Colin’s hot pink and canary yellow and emerald green hippy pants shot with purple, and slid them down.
Bradley’s eyes widened at the sight, and a sly smile broke out across his face.
“No,” Bradley agreed. “You most certainly are not.”
Pairing: Bradley/Colin
Word Count: 11,130
Rating: M - some swearing, almost-sex (but nothing explicit)
Warnings: mostly fluff, little bit of angst
Summary: Colin’s crashing at Bradley’s apartment for their long weekend off, and Bradley begins to realize what a hippie-child Colin Morgan really is. But after a drunken bet with Colin doesn’t go quite as Bradley expected, Bradley is forced to admit to feelings he knows he probably shouldn't have. Fluff.
Author's note: this is my first proper fic and i wouldn't have been able to do it without my AWESOME beta girlsofthenight and all her wonderful advice :) i hope you enjoyy!!
Disclaimer: Bradley and Colin do not belong to me, and the events in this fic are purely my wildly slashy imagination cutting loose.
Back to Part 1
He wasn’t entirely sure how he ended up outside Katie’s apartment at 2’o clock in the morning.
But her lights were still on, and that was all the invitation he needed.
“TIIIITTTS!” he yelled at the door, pushing the doorbell several dozen times in a recently perfected technique he liked to call the rapid-fire, just to make absolutely sure Katie had heard him. “TITS! IT’S ME!”
He put his ear to the door, listening for signs of life.
Thud. Followed by a long stream of profanities that would make Gordon Ramsay proud. Another thud, and thunderous footsteps.
“Geez louise, Tits McGrath sounds like a heard of wildebeest,” Bradley remarked to himself, as the door was flung open with a bang.
In the doorway, stood Satan himself.
Wait, Bradley blinked. It has boobs.
Not Satan, then.
“Bradley. Fucking. James,” Katie growled, her arms folded. “To what do I owe this oh-so-well-timed pleasure?”
“Katherine, Elizabeth, McGrath,” Bradley gave her a charming smile. “Are you busy?”
Katie’s hair seemed to crackle with electricity as she drew herself up to her full height (which unfortunately for her, was all of 5 foot 6, Bradley mused), and began to silently vibrate with fury.
“Am I busy? ” her voice was deathly soft. “You wake me up at ass o’clock in the morning, on one of my two precious days off, in the middle of a week of filming twelve hours a day, to ask me if I’m busy? ”
Bradley cowered under her dagger-eyes. They were kind of terrifying.
“I just needed a shoulder to cry on,” he said meekly. “I can’t get a girl but mah best friend can.”
“Did you just quote Robbie Williams?” Katie was eyeing him like he was a bird turd. “God, you’re pathetic.”
Bradley gave her puppy-eyes. She sighed, leaning on the door. “You’re mental, you know that?” she said, but her voice was a little softer, and she stepped aside to let Bradley in.
He stumbled inside, trying to ignore her boobs which were happily enjoying some freedom and fresh air in her low-cut nightdress.
Not looking at Katie’s boobs. Not looking at Katie’s boobs. Not looking at Katie’s-
“Eyes off my boobs,” Katie said firmly, closing the front door and following Bradley in.
Dammit, she’s onto me.
*
A little later, Bradley was curled up on Katie’s couch, wrapped in a disgustingly pink blanket and cradling a mug of coffee, surprisingly comfortable considering he was in the Lair of the She-devil. He was pretty sure that loosely translated to ‘hell’.
“Have you been drinking?” Katie wrinkled up her nose.
“Nooooooo,” Bradley shook his head vigorously, wide-eyed. “I’m too classy for that.”
“Whatever. So what happened? What was that about not being able to get a girl?” Katie asked smugly.
“Sooo, you see, Colin and I…well, we had this challenge,” Bradley explained, “this bet, of sorts, called the Quest for Pussay-” (Katie snorted) “- and basically, to prove that he isn’t a complete goodie goodie, we were having a race to see who could get a woman into bed first.”
Katie sighed. “And you call yourself ‘classy’.”
“Hey, it was a noble quest to establish masculine dominance, okay?”
“It was a dooshy and ungentlemanly thing to do. But that’s besides the point, so you’re saying Colin won? Colin pulled before you did?”
Bradley didn’t like the stupid smug smile on Katie’s face. “It was his Irish accent!” he protested. “And his chiselled cheekbones. He had an unfair advantage. And since when did girls go for scrawny pasty Irish boys instead of big men like me?” he added. “Is that, like, the new thing?”
Katie laughed. “Well, it is Colin we’re talking about,” she said. “He’s utterly adorable.”
“Not you as well,” Bradley muttered.
“Oh, come on Bradley, admit it. On a cuteness scale of one to ten, Colin Morgan is fluffy bunny rabbits. Scruffy hair. Big blue eyes. Cheekbones, and the ears, Bradley, the ears! They’re-”
“Okay, okay, I geddit,” Bradley huffed. “So he’s a little leprechaun bag of rainbow marshmallow. But surely…surely a woman would rather be in bed with a tanned and muscled sex-machine than a fluffy rainbow bunny marshmallow?”
Katie guffawed. “Do you seriously consider yourself a ‘tanned and muscled sex-machine’?! If your head were any bigger, you would probably manage to levitate-”
“What.Ever,” Bradley interrupted. “Point is, if you had to choose, hypothetically, between sleeping with mee, hypothetically,” Bradley puffed his chest out very convincingly, “or with Colin-” he pulled a face, “-you would choose me, right? Hypothetically? Riight?”
Katie looked horrified. “I would sooner choose a buffalo than sleep with you, Bradley. Hypothetically.”
Bradley raised his eyebrows. “Hot.”
Katie threw a cushion at him.
“Tits,” he said sadly, “losing the challenge means I have to shave off my eyebrows.”
“Call me tits one more time and you can kiss goodbye your testicles.”
“Strangely, that thought kind of turns me on.”
“BRADLEY!” Katie shouted, throwing another cushion at him. Bradley ducked.
“Since we’re not on first-name terms, can I at least call you Katie McTits?” he asked hopefully.
The look of you-are-pure-filth that Katie gave him was answer enough. “So. You have to shave your eyebrows?”
Bradley sighed. “Yes. And get a bowl cut.”
Katie burst out laughing. And didn’t stop. Great. She is never going to let me live this down. Ever.
“Oh, this is too good,” she wiped her eyes. “But, you know. Aside from that. Aren’t you…you know. Upset?”
Bradley looked at her, puzzled. “Upset? Well yeah, I am gonna miss my hair, it’s pretty fantastic hair, after all, the girls just can’t control themselves when I -”
“Oh, shut up you narcissistic twat. No, I meant, about Colin. Aren’t you upset? You know, that he’s sleeping with someone else?”
Bradley froze. His heart had done some weird little flippy thing, and he shifted uncomfortably. “No, I mean, I’m a little puzzled as to how he managed it…but I’m not upset,” he said carefully.
Katie was looking at him strangely. Examining him. Bradley twitched.
“Bradley,” Katie said, uncharacteristically softly, “I don’t mean, upset about him getting the woman. I mean…” She paused. “I mean, aren’t you upset about the woman getting him?”
Bradley’s heart was in his throat now, jumping around like a Jack Russell terrier that hadn’t been walked in weeks. Settle down, he thought wildly. Katie was off her rocker. Bradley didn’t care that Colin was sleeping with a woman. At all. It didn’t matter. Colin was perfectly entitled to have wild one-night-stand sex if that was what he wanted, and Bradley had no opinions or emotions or thoughts on that whatsoever.
“Bradley?”
Bradley cleared his throat. “He’s just my mate, Katie. He-he can fuck whoever he pleases.” It came out more bitterly than Bradley had intended. He winced.
The damage was done. Katie got up, and squatted down in front of him, looking him straight in the eyes.
“Bradley,” she said. “Look me in the eyes and tell me you don’t give a toss that Colin’s having sex with someone else.”
Bradley looked her solemnly in the eyes, thinking fuck, fuck, fuck, don’t screw this up, why the fuck are you nervous, and said; “Katie, I don’t give a toss that Colin is-”
He broke off. In the dim lamplight, Katie’s grey-green eyes reminded him inevitably of Colin’s, and suddenly he felt the overwhelming urge to see Colin, and to check the colour of Colin’s eyes, because last he checked they were bright, sapphire blue, not grey-green, but sometimes - sometimes they were grey-green, when Colin was thinking, when he was reading, when he was Merlin -
The sentence hung, unfinished, in the air.
Katie sat back on her heels, and exhaled. “Does he know how you feel?”
Bradley couldn’t see straight. “I don’t feel.” What?! “I mean, I don’t- I don’t feel like anything. He’s just my mate, fuck, he’s just my friend!” He was starting to panic. Katie’s eyes gave the impression they could see straight through him, like they could see the writhing coil of confused emotions in Bradley’s head. He broke her gaze.
“You know, it’s nothing to be ashamed of, being in love,” she murmured. “Anyone who spends a minute with you two can tell that you’re close, that you care about each other. It’s not as strange a thought as you probably think it is. But, Colin should know, you should-”
“I’m NOT in love with Colin!” Bradley shouted, standing up. Fuck, fuck, fuck, breathe. “Thankyou for the coffee. I’ll see you round.”
He shook off the blanket and headed straight for the front door, ignoring Katie’s “-wait!”.
On the freezing, empty street, he began to cry.
*
Bradley somehow made it back to his flat. He was no longer drunk, but he was unsteady; he was partially blinded by his tears, and fully ashamed of them. He hadn’t cried since ninth grade when his Nan had died, and he couldn’t understand why he should start now.
It’s because of the challenge, he told himself. You’re crying because you’re going to have to shave off your eyebrows and get a bowl-cut and no girl will ever want to sleep with you ever again. And Tits McGrath will never, ever let you forget the shame. Ever.
But it didn’t explain the overwhelming emptiness sucking out his lungs. He unlocked the door, pulled off his shoes, and collapsed on the floor.
“I DON’T, LOVE, COLIN!” he shouted, writhing in sheer frustration, the carpet rubbing and burning his feet. He stood up, and kneed the wall. It didn’t help. He released a stream of profanities and then stubbed his toe on the skirting board, and the pain was swirling up and intoxicating him, and he couldn’t think -
Fuck.
Breathe.
Bradley inhaled deeply, but instead of clearing his mind, he ended up inhaling the scent of deodorant, the deodorant with which he had chased Colin around the flat earlier on, when the flat had resonated with the sound of Colin’s sweet, uncontrollable laughter.
Bradley groaned. Colin. He was inescapable.
He closed his eyes. I’m not in love with Colin, he told himself firmly. Colin is my friend. Colin is my -
He groaned again. Flashes of thoughts and emotions and memories darted through Bradley’s mind. The way Colin stretched and yawned, completely shamelessly, completely at ease around Bradley. The way Colin left his shoes in the doorways as if planning for Bradley to trip over them every few seconds. The startling blue of his eyes, the shadows cast by his cheekbones, the way his eyebrows knitted together in intense concentration while he was reading. The feeling of Colin’s strong but gentle hands across Bradley’s back, smoothing out the tensions as he taught Bradley yoga. The smell of that strong, bitter black tea wafting through the haze of his morning hangover.
Fuck. Bradley opened his eyes.
I’m in love with Colin.
*
The next morning, Bradley didn’t want to face Colin, he didn’t want to see those blue or green or grey eyes, or see Colin’s dishevelled just-had-sex hair, so he turned over and went back to sleep.
Sleep was good. Sleep was the answer to all problems. Having his eyes closed meant Bradley couldn’t see his problems, and if he couldn’t see them, then they weren’t there.
He drifted in and out of confused sleep, hazy at the edges with the scent of fragrant black tea and the sharp odour of deodorant.
Colin.
*
About midday, Bradley vaguely heard the ominous knock at the front door, through the mist of his half-consciousness. The knock. It meant Colin had come back.
Bradley listened to it, telling himself to get out of bed, but unable to actually do it. And the more Colin knocked, the heavier Bradley’s limbs felt, and the less he wanted to go and open the door.
So he waited, hoping the knocking would stop.
*
The shrill noise of Bradley’s phone woke him up a little later. Still half-asleep, he slapped it to his ear.
“’Lo?”
“BRADLEY FUCKING JAMES.”
“Oh. Hi Tits,” he sat up groggily. “Whassup?”
“I’m going to pretend you didn’t just call me Tits again. Are you at home?” she demanded.
“Uh, yeah, why?” Bradley scratched his head.
“I knew it. I knew it. I just got a call from a very anxious Colin asking me if I knew where you were, because you weren’t answering the front door. He seemed to think you hadn’t got home safely last night, and were passed out in the gutter somewhere.”
Oh, right. Colin.
“So, why the fuck haven’t you let him in?” Katie continued, “is there a reason you decided to let him stand outside your front door for half an hour?”
“Um, yeah. I didn’t hear him knocking,” Bradley lied. “I guess I’ll go let him in now.”
“Bradley, you listen to me,” Katie hissed. “I don’t know what’s going on with you, you positively ran out of my house this morning at 3 am when I suggested you might have feelings for Colin, now, whether you choose to admit to your feelings or not is your own problem, but you are not taking this out on Colin, because he has done nothing, nothing to deserve this sort of treatment from you. Do you hear me?”
Bradley heard her alright. Does she not have a life of her own?! he wondered, wincing at her loud she-devil voice. “Fine. Sure. Whatever.”
He hung up, and swung himself out of bed, reluctantly pulling on a shirt.
Great.
Commence Operation Act-like-there’s-nothing-wrong.
“Thank goodness,” Colin sounded relieved, slipping off his shoes, “you’re here.”
Bradley didn’t reply.
“I…I thought something might’ve happened to you, last night,” Colin continued uncertainly, “you-you didn’t hear me knocking?”
Bradley shook his head. “Yeah sorry bout that.”
Anyone else who had just been waiting on Bradley’s doorstep for half an hour would have probably socked him in the mouth for this apology, but Colin was Colin and Colin just smiled and said, “No problem.” He brushed past Bradley to go inside. Bradley couldn’t help but notice the trace of a flowery scent on Colin’s jacket, the smell of a woman’s perfume. It was all wrong, Bradley thought. Colin was supposed to smell like Bradley’s deodorant, not like women’s perfume.
He shut the door, avoiding Colin’s gaze.
“So, I won the Quest,” Colin began happily, breaking the silence. His eyes were teasing Bradley, waiting for Bradley’s reaction. Blue eyes, Bradley thought. Definitely blue.
“Yeah,” he replied. “Yeah, I guess you did.” He turned away, a bitter taste in his mouth.
Behind him, Colin sighed.
“Okay Bradley, what’s up?” he demanded. He walked over to Bradley, brushing his arm, and put his hand on Bradley’s shoulder. Bradley flinched. Please. Don’t touch me, please.
“Nothing,” he forced out. “Nothing’s up. Well done on winning.”
“Oh, come on Bradley, you know I know you better than that. C’mon, you can tell me anything. What’s up?”
I can tell you anything? Huh. Not this time. Bradley stared silently at the sink, brooding. Colin sighed again.
“Bradley, you’re my best friend. You tell me everything. I tell you most things. And I can tell something’s upsetting you. Please, tell me?” A note of earnest pleading entered Colin’s voice, and Bradley tried not to shiver, because all he wanted was to blurt it all out, and fuck the consequences; he wanted to give Colin a hug and tell him I think I’m in love with you and smell Colin’s sweet hair and feel his tiny little shoulders while he held him, and brush against his huge, silly ears, and fuck, he just wanted to hold him, hold him close, and tight, but gentle, and -
“Nothing’s wrong, Colin.”
Colin took his hand away from Bradley’s shoulder, with hurt eyes. “Is this about the quest thing?” he asked suddenly. “Are you mad because I won it?”
Bradley looked up at him, startled. What is he talking about?
Colin frowned. “Oh...I think…I think I get it now. You’re annoyed because…because I went home with - with that girl before you, because - well, you should have got the girl first because you’re the good-looking one, and now you’re mad because you have to shave off your eyebrows and get a bowl-cut.”
Bradley almost laughed. The quest, the fucking quest, the stupid quest. Oh, how wrong you have it.
Colin stepped back, and must have mistaken Bradley’s silence as a confession. “Okay…look, Bradley, if it’s upsetting you that much, you don’t have to go through with it, you know.” He bit his lip. “I’m sorry. You don’t have to do all that stupid haircutting stuff. We’ll just…we’ll just call it a draw, yeah?”
Bradley couldn’t speak. Stop it, stop being so nice. “Yeah, okay, whatever,” he replied.
Colin’s eyes flashed.
“Look, Bradley, I’m trying to talk to you here, so could you stop being such a prick for just a second and talk to me!” he burst out, then instantly looked regretful, glancing at his feet.
Bradley’s heart was beating wildly, a military tattoo against his chest. He deserved this, he deserved to be yelled at, he knew, but Colin never shouted at him, and for some reason it hurt worse than being screamed at by Katie, or by the directors, or even by his own mother.
“I just-” Colin began, softer. “I just…I thought you’d be a bit happier for me, y’know? That I actually managed to get a girl for once.” He looked embarrassed. “Because I never get the girls, it’s always you, so I thought you…I thought you’d be a good sport about it. I didn’t think you were a sore loser, or I would have just told Grace to get with you instead.”
The words hit Bradley like a fist in the gut. A sore loser? The only thing I’m losing right now, is my mind. Over you. Jesus, Col.
“Bradley?”
Colin was gazing at him, like he was trying to read Bradley’s expression. And, oh, those big blue eyes were filled with so much hurt that Bradley wanted to break through the frigid ice wall he had created and make it all better right then and there, because Colin looked so hurt and so bewildered and so lost, like a rabbit caught blinded in the headlights of a truck. Bradley turned around, unable to look at those dark blue eyes gazing sadly back at him, and stumbled back into his room, leaving Colin standing alone in the kitchen. As he dove into the safety of his bedroom, he heard Colin whimper softly behind him, and that whimper nearly tore Bradley’s heart in two, but he shut the door anyway.
*
When Bradley emerged from his room later, the flat was empty. Colin had disappeared, and for a heart-stopping, heart-wrenching moment, Bradley thought he might have packed up and left to return to his hotel; panicking, Bradley burst into Colin’s room, and exhaled in relief at the sight of Colin’s clothes strewn all over the bed.
Although maybe it would be better if he had left, Bradley brooded. Then he wouldn’t be suffering through me being a prick. And then I could just stop moping and go back to being normal Bradley.
He lay on his bed, staring at the ceiling, wondering how the hell he was going to fall out of love with Colin Morgan.
*
Bradley couldn’t eat all day. He tossed restlessly on his bed, awaiting Katie’s next furious call, which he was certain would come, and she didn’t fail him.
“Hey, Bradley.”
Wow, she actually sounded more like a lady and less like a she-devil, for once.
“Hey, Katie.”
Not calling her ‘Tits’ did the trick. Katie was softer, more civil, almost friendly, to Bradley as he explained what had happened after he’d let Colin in.
“So,” she sighed. “What are you going to do now? Tell him how you feel?”
“No! No, no, no, no. I couldn’t. I can’t. I’m just going to wait for it to pass over. It must be just a phase.”
“Bradley, being in love doesn’t just ‘pass over’. Especially not when you’re in love with someone you see every day, someone you’ve known for years, someone who’s your best friend.”
Bradley sighed. “That’s the problem. I can’t tell him I might be in love with him. He’s my best friend.”
“Bradley, there are two types of ‘being in love’. One, is when you’re in love with someone you’ve had a crush on. Someone you don’t know very well, but who you’re absolutely infatuated with. And it starts to border on obsessiveness.” Katie paused. “The other type of ‘being in love’, is when you fall in love with your best friend. With someone you’ve known forever, someone you know like the back of your hand. And it’s the sort of love that actually lasts, because it’s built on better foundations than having a crush. Do you hear me?”
“Yeah.”
They stayed silent for a moment, Katie’s words sinking in. Painfully, he had to admit she was right. Damn you women and your knowledge of everything soppy and sweet.
But it didn’t change anything. Colin could never find out how Bradley felt. Bradley needed their friendship more than anything else on this planet, and definitely more than he needed Colin’s love.
*
Colin didn’t return that evening. Bradley felt a deep loneliness, which he thought was ridiculous, seeing as Colin had only been staying there for three days. Pull yourself together, James, Bradley told himself.
Katie had told him how to make it up to Colin. “You need to make him laugh,” she had said firmly, “if you want him to forgive you and get back in his good books. You need to show him you’re a good sport, and follow through with this stupid Quest of yours. You lost, so you need to do what you promised.”
Bradley had his doubts, fairly certain Katie only wanted him to do it for her own entertainment, but he didn’t know what else to do, so he let her come over, and deciding the world was probably going to end anyway when he shaved off his eyebrows, he let her give him a bowl-cut.
“I can’t believe this is happening,” he groaned, resigning himself to social suicide, as Katie brandished a pair of kitchen scissors, an evil glint in her eye. “Can you at least try to make it half-decent? So I can keep a shred of self-respect?”
Katie laughed like a madwoman. “Kiddo, there is no such thing as a half-decent bowl-cut. And trust me, the world will be better off when Bradley James loses all his self-respect. You might become less of a twat and more like Colin.”
Bradley swore at her.
*
It took Bradley a lot of self-restraint not to murder Katie, half an hour later as he stared at his reflection in the mirror.
Fuck. My. Life.
He would never tease Colin about his Merlin bowl-cut ever again.
“One day,” he told Katie, “I am going to break into your apartment while you’re asleep, and shave off all of your stupid beloved hair, so you’ll know what this shame feels like.”
Katie smiled at him sweetly.
*
It was late when Bradley heard the front door open and Colin come in. He’d been planning to go and apologize, but as he lay still, listening to Colin’s clumsy footsteps, he lost the courage. Bradley James, the cowardly twat. He couldn’t believe himself.
He lay silently, barely breathing, as Colin fumbled around in the kitchen, and heard the kettle whistle. Bradley closed his eyes, half hoping Colin would burst in to his room and yell at him, so that then Bradley could be angry at him instead of in love with him and everything would be so much easier to deal with.
But Bradley’s thoughts slipped off the track, onto some other winding path, and meandered into forbidden pastures; thinking of Colin’s hand on his shoulder, the warm and gentle weight of it, and of how perfectly Colin had fit into his arms while Bradley was pinning him down to stop him throwing the pants over the balcony; the way his arms had encircled Colin, trapping him gently as he struggled, laughing -
Yesterday, he sung dully in his head, all my troubles seemed so far away…
Colin was humming in the kitchen, accompanied by the soft clink of teacups and the warm whoosh of a running tap.
Now I need a place to hide away. Oh, I believe…in yesterday.
*
He emerged from his room later that night, having heard Colin shuffle into his room and close the door.
Bradley went to lock the front door and turn out the lights, when he noticed the lone cup of cold black tea sitting on the countertop, in Bradley’s special mug.
Colin.
*
Morning.
It was Colin’s last day here. The next day, they were back to the whirlwind schedule of Merlin.
Bradley had one more day to make this right, to go back to normal, before filming swept him off his feet and consumed his every thought.
The apartment was empty once again. Bradley couldn’t help wondering where Colin was disappearing off to. With a sharp pang, the image of Colin curled up with Leggy the Blonde on her couch watching Buffy flashed across Bradley’s mind. Mine! a little voice in his head shouted immediately.
Bradley shook himself, trying to clear his head.
Stop, he told himself sternly. You can’t love Colin, so just stop. It’s better if he’s with her.
Bradley gathered his balls, tried to find an ounce of bravado and, grabbing his razor, headed for the bathroom.
He stared at himself in the mirror. He was a mess. His eyes were red from anxiousness, his face was breaking out, his beard was wild and prickly and a horrible mustard-blonde colour, and that blasted bowl-cut made him look like an eighteenth century mummy’s boy.
He sighed. It didn’t get much worse than this. So fuck it, the eyebrows could go too.
Feeling like a complete idiot, he slicked shaving cream over each eyebrow, and without giving himself the chance to rethink what a bad idea this was, he drew the razor over his right eyebrow and shouted “HOLY COW I’M SHAVING OFF MY EYEBROWS.”
Bradley stared.
Hooooly fuck, make-up is gonna kill me, he realized. Probably should’ve thought that one through…
He looked like the Hunchback of Notre Dame. He was torn between bursting out laughing, or bursting into tears. Not that Bradley did the whole bursting-into-tears thing. Because he was a Tough Lad.
Yeah. A Tough Lad with a bowl-cut, who had just shaved off his eyebrow and now resembled a hobo who’d gotten into a fight with a lawn mower.
Just as he had placed the razor on his left eyebrow, the front door banged open.
Bradley froze.
“Bradley!” Colin’s voice yelled. “Bradley, I need to talk to you. Bradley, I know you’re at home.”
Bradley reached for the bathroom door to close it, lock it, hide - but it was too late. Colin had heard him in there. “Bradley, please, I need to talk to you.” He burst in.
“Bradley, I’m really sorry for yelling at you yesterday, I just hate it when you’re mad at me, I feel terrible for-”
Colin broke off suddenly, staring at Bradley. “What…the…fark happened to your face?!”
Bradley swallowed. “I, um,” he said lamely, holding up the razor. But Bradley was too busy staring at Colin to finish his own sentence. Because Colin was standing there in what was possibly the most ridiculous outfit of all time; some kind of green turban, a hugely oversized gold shawl, and a pair of pink, green and yellow pants that ought to be made illegal for being such a tasteless eyesore.
Colin was wearing the hippy pants.
Colin…Colin’s wearing the hippy pants. Bradley stared, trying to register what he was seeing. Meanwhile, Colin looked from the razor to Bradley’s face, back and forth, until realization dawned in his eyes, too.
“You-you shaved your eyebrow off?” he choked out. Bradley nodded sheepishly. “
And - oh my god, who gave you a bowl-cut?” Colin yelped, reaching out to touch Bradley’s hair. Bradley flinched again, and suddenly Colin burst out laughing. He laughed and laughed without stopping, doubled over. “You…you look…you look so ridiculous! ” he wheezed. “I told you - I told you you didn’t have to do it! Why’d you do it, you nong!”
His sweet laughter bounced off the bathroom walls and Bradley was about to reply that Colin was in no place to be calling anybody else ridiculous or a nong because he was wearing hot pink and canary yellow and emerald green hippie pants shot with purple, but instead Bradley sat down on the floor, and began to cry.
He wasn’t sure why, entirely. He’d tried not to, but from the moment Colin had burst into the bathroom apologizing, he’d known the tears were going to erupt. Shameful. Just, plain, embarrassing.
Colin stopped laughing abruptly, and looked down at Bradley in confusion.
“Hey, hey, hey,” he said softly, sliding down to sit next to Bradley. “Woah. Bradley. What’s going on?”
Bradley drew a deep breath, and scrubbed his face on his sleeve. “Sorry. Jesus. I can’t believe you have to see me like this.” He breathed in deeply again. “You must think I’m such a girl.”
Colin laughed sweetly. “Well, maybe a little.”
Bradley turned and gazed at him. Colin didn’t flinch; he looked confused, but complacently held Bradley’s gaze.
God. Colin’s face. Bradley felt the overwhelming urge to reach out and trace every line, every curve and dip and shadow of Colin’s face; to map out those eyebrows that had a life of their own, to brush against those long, curling black lashes, to know the contours of his cheekbones, and oh, Colin’s eyes. They were grey-green.
Bradley looked away. “I’m sorry,” he mumbled. “For being, y’know. An absolute asshole the last couple of days.”
Colin blinked. “No, don’t be. I should be sorry. I shouldn’t have gone home with her and left you there on your own. I wasn’t a very good mate.”
“Colin, we were on a quest. That’s what you were meant to do.”
“Yeah, but…” Colin trailed off. “Bros before hos, y’know?”
Bros. Bradley groaned. Bros, and that’s all they would ever be. “It wasn’t your fault, Col.”
Colin shook his head. “I’m really sorry about yelling at you yesterday, I should’ve just given you space. So…well, I-I rescued the hippie pants from the street, they were still there - I guess nobody felt the urge to take home a pair of pink hippy pants, can’t think why - and…I borrowed some of Angel’s hippy clothes to, y’know, cheer you up. To make it up to you.”
Bradley gazed at Colin wordlessly, barely listening to what he was saying.
“That’s where I was yesterday,” Colin continued. “At Angel’s. I - I couldn’t deal with the guilt.”
Guilt?! thought Bradley wildly. YOU did nothing wrong, I should be the one on my knees begging for forgiveness, I was the one who was a total cock -
Colin put his hand on Bradley’s arm. “So, are we all good? Friends again?”
Bradley froze. Please, please don’t touch me, I can’t- he looked up at Colin.
“Colin,” he blurted out, without thinking, “I think I’m in love with you.”
Colin went completely still.
Bradley thought he could hear Colin’s heart beating, maybe even louder and faster than his own.
Shit, shit, shit, shit, take it back, quickly, take it back -
“Why?”
Bradley was taken aback by the simple, unexpected question. “Why do I think I’m in love with you? Because…because I couldn’t bear to see you go off with that blonde woman. Because I - I didn’t know how to tell you. Because when you weren’t here, this place was just…weird. Lonely.”
Colin lowered his head; Bradley could see the shy half-smile he was trying to hide.
“No,” Colin said, “I meant…why would you love me? I mean…you’re Bradley James. You could have anyone you wanted. You’re…well, you’re fit. Why would you like me?”
Bradley stared at him incredulously. “Why wouldn’t I like you? I’ve - you - I-” he broke off, his chest constricting. “I don’t know. You’re adorable?”
Colin burst out laughing. “What?”
“I dunno! According to Katie McTits, you’re, like, fluffy little rainbow bunny rabbits or something.”
Colin snorted. “Why does everyone think I’m some sweet little angel?”
“Because you are. A total goodie goodie.”
Colin smiled at Bradley fondly. “You know,” he said shyly. “I feel honoured. That you like me.”
“Love you,” Bradley corrected.
Colin smiled even more. His fingers were playing with Bradley’s sleeve, tugging at the loose threads, dangerously close to Bradley’s hand. “And why honoured?” Bradley added. “That’s just stupid.”
“Well, you’re way out of my league,” Colin said in a small voice. “And, well. It’s just - I don’t think I’m gay. But I think I may have a crush on you. A friend-crush.”
Bradley felt his heart skip a beat. He wasn’t sure what Colin meant, but he understood perfectly Colin’s confusion, his inability to express why he was attracted to Bradley. It was exactly how Bradley felt about Colin. There was something about Colin, but he couldn’t quite put a finger on it.
“Colin, I don’t deserve you, and that’s why I’ve been a twat, because hell, I was jealous of that blonde girl, and I would do anything, anything to make it up to you. That’s why I shaved my eyebrow off and let that devil-woman McTits give me a bowl-cut. That’s - that’s how much I love you, Colin.”
Colin was smiling now, smiling that big goofy grin and suddenly Bradley found himself smiling idiotically as well.
“You’re an idiot,” Colin shook his head, “why didn’t you just tell me, you big goob.”
“I was scared!” Bradley said defensively, then before he could stop himself, added, “and nobody says goob anymore, Granny Morgan.”
Colin chose to ignore that bit. “The great Bradley James, scared?” he teased.
“Shut it! I was… scared. I didn’t want you to freak out, I didn’t want things to change between us.” Bradley couldn’t look at Colin. He was too scared of Colin’s response. Of course things will change, now, he thought. Colin will never look at me in the same way. He’ll-
And then Colin’s hand was on his. Just resting there, confident yet somehow tentative.
Bradley stared at it. He stared at the long, slender fingers and those beautiful knuckles, the shape of Colin’s hand, the way it sat so perfectly over Bradley’s. Bradley turned the palm of his hand up. Colin’s hand was warm and soft and huge and strong and gentle. Bradley interlocked his fingers with Colin’s; it was like the last two pieces of a jigsaw puzzle had been fitted together, completing the picture. A perfect fit.
Bradley looked up at Colin, terrified of what he would find. Because he knew Colin’s eyes would give him the final verdict: yes or no .
It was like being electrocuted. Colin’s eyes burned with a fierce intensity, now so blue that Bradley almost had to look away. But Bradley held his gaze. He knew what that gaze said.
It said yes.
And it was always Bradley who led, Bradley who took control, Bradley who planned and schemed and pranked and executed, but now it was Colin. And Bradley didn’t mind, because all thoughts had left his mind, except one; kiss.
So they did.
And Bradley put his hands in Colin’s hair and smoothed it down and ruffled it up just because he could, and his fingers explored Colin’s cheekbones and traced along the side of Colin’s face and ears and cupped his chin, and all the while their lips were interlocked in a waltz with no music, and their tongues played hide and seek.
“Should we maybe take this somewhere more romantic than my bathroom floor?” Bradley murmured into Colin’s neck, palms splayed against Colin’s hands. Colin laughed his agreement, and they stumbled out, kissing in a passionate tango of interlocked lips, using their hands to feel their way to Bradley’s bedroom.
*
Colin groaned, his hands buried in Bradley’s hair. Bradley couldn’t bear it, couldn’t bear the heat, the burning need - he couldn’t bear it one second longer. He pulled Colin onto the bed, tugging off his own shirt.
“You know,” Colin muttered, his arms locked around Bradley’s bare, rippling shoulders, “I never actually…had sex with Grace.”
Bradley jolted, and yelped. “WHAT?!”
Colin smiled against Bradley’s hair. “We went back to her place, and made out, but it didn’t go any further.”
Bradley’s jaw dropped. “You mean - you - wait, that means you didn’t actually win the Quest! I shaved my eyebrow off for nothing!” Bradley said, outraged but not really.
Colin smiled cheekily. “Well, technically the aim of the Quest was to get a woman into bed. I slept in her bed. We just didn’t have sex.”
Bradley felt a smile creeping over his face. “You sly little minx. Why not?”
Colin shrugged beneath Bradley’s torso. “Dunno. There was no chemistry.”
Bradley held him closer, pressing his lips to the hollow between Colin's shoulder and neck, breathing heat down Colin’s back and feeling that slender body quiverbeneath him.
“And what about now, Morgan,” he murmured. “Is there chemistry now?”
Colin’s long, low moan was answer enough.
Bradley ran his hands along Colin’s sleek torso, imagining all the ways Colin could bend his body.
“You’re my little hippie,” Bradley murmured in Colin’s ear, fumbling to pull off the ridiculous gold shawl.
“I’m not little!” Colin protested, as Bradley reached for Colin’s hot pink and canary yellow and emerald green hippy pants shot with purple, and slid them down.
Bradley’s eyes widened at the sight, and a sly smile broke out across his face.
“No,” Bradley agreed. “You most certainly are not.”