Dancing Cheek to Cheek
Title: Dancing Cheek to Cheek (Brolin fluff)
Pairing: Bradley/Colin
Rating/Warnings: G/none
Words: 2,100
Summary: At the Season 4 Wrap party, Bradley decides to teach Colin to dirty dance, and is succeeding...until things get a bit romantic.
Bradley collapsed into a chair, running a hand through his hair, and surveyed the chaos on the dance floor.
Katie was consuming the centre of the dancefloor, whipping her hair back and forth, while nearby Rupert and Tom were doing some form of the chicken dance, only it was more like a mutated-chicken dance because they had linked arms and were attempting to synchronize their movements, something that didn’t work too well under the influence of several shots of tequila. Eoin had pulled off his shirt and was in the wild throes of what appeared to be a passionate mating dance. He was so far failing to attract any women, possibly because nobody dared come anywhere near him for fear of having their eye taken out.
And that, Bradley thought with a chuckle, is why we are actors and not dancers.
From the tornado that was the dance floor, Bradley watched Colin peel himself away and stumble towards him, his face red and his hair dishevelled. He spotted Bradley with visible relief, and dropped into the chair next to him.
“Hey,” he greeted Bradley, sounding out of breath.
“Colin, you dance like you have two left feet,” Bradley laughed.
Colin smiled sheepishly. “Yeah, whatever.”
Bradley sighed. “What are we going to do with you? How are you ever going to seduce any women?”
Colin blushed a bit. “Bradley, nobody seduces women by dancing with them.”
“Are you crazy? Have you seriously never been clubbing?” Bradley shook his head in disbelief. This kid. Bradley poked him. “You have to know how to dance. No question about it.”
“But, but, can’t I just seduce them with my Leprechaun voice?” Colin pouted.
Bradley laughed. He had nicknamed Colin’s Irish accent the Leprechaun voice, and was constantly admonishing Colin for not using his sexy Irish charm to reel in the ladies. Hell, if Bradley had sexy Irish charm, he would never be lonely at night ever again. Everyone knew that women were suckers for an exotic accent. Everyone except Colin, that is.
“I’m glad you’re finally learning, Morgan, but dancing is a universal trump card every man must keep in his back pocket. C’mon, I’m gonna teach you how to dance.”
Colin protested meekly as Bradley stood up and pulled him to his feet.
“Noooo Bradley,” Colin struggled against Bradley’s firm grip. “I’m just gonna make a total arse of myself!”
But Bradley wouldn’t hear it. “Rubbish. By the end of your trial session with certified Dirty Dance Expert Bradley James, you have our guarantee that you’ll be the dirtiest dancer, the greatest grinder, the most marvellous mosher on the dance floor, or your money back.”
Colin laughed. “You’re ridiculous, you know that?” he said, but gave in, allowing himself to be led.
Bradley dragged him straight to the middle of the dance floor where Katie was still whipping her hair, and Rupert and Angel were trying to persuade Eoin put his shirt back on and stop grinding against anything that moved.
“Dance,” Bradley ordered Colin.
Nicki Minaj started playing, and Colin obediently started dancing.
Bradley resisted the urge to facepalm. Colin looked like he was having a seizure, jumping up and down and waving his long arms around like a windmill.
“Stop, stop, stop,” Bradley grabbed Colin’s arm, “you’re going to take someone’s eye out. Besides, you’re doing it wrong.”
Colin drooped sadly.
Bradley felt guilty. “Okay no, you...you show promise. Potential. Nothing that your qualified dirty dancing coach can’t fix. You need to loosen up. Move your feet instead of your arms.”
Bradley moved behind Colin and shook him gently by the shoulders. "C'mon. Loosen up. Your muscles are all tense."
Colin relaxed a little beneath Bradley's grasp.
"Good," said Bradley. "Now move. In time with the music."
Colin began to wave his arms again, but Bradley quickly stopped him by pinning his arms to his sides.
"No, not your arms. Move your feet. Move your hips. In time, find the rhythm."
Colin began to shuffle his feet complacently. Bradley hid a smile. Despite having gone to drama school and learnt singing and piano, Colin was still hopeless at moving with any sense of pulse or rhythm. Bradley kept his hands on Colin's shoulders, at arms' length, and shook him in time with the music.
Colin eventually got the hang of it. He still looked gangly and awkward, but Bradley knew he was a quick learner.
"Not bad, Morgan," Bradley shouted over the thumping music. "It would seem your highly competent dance teacher can work wonders even on the most hopeless students."
Colin pulled a face at him, and started waving his arms again just to annoy Bradley. Bradley laughed at the sight of Colin, and, thinking Oh what the heck, joined in with Colin's windmill-dance.
Together they managed to scare everyone else off the dance floor, and Bradley smiled to himself because any other time, Colin would have been positively mortified to be in the centre of the dance floor practically on his own, but now he seemed to be enjoying himself, and Bradley knew with a flash of pride that it was only because of him, that Colin wouldn’t be caught dead doing this with Katie or Eoin or Angel or anybody else.
When Bradley’s arms eventually grew tired, he gradually stopped windmill dancing and was contented to just bounce around and laugh at Colin’s happy windmill-dancing. Eventually, the others decided it was safe to return to the dance-floor, but everybody seemed to be regarding Bradley and Colin with high suspicion and keeping their distance.
The night wore on and became progressively louder and more vibrant as the wine flowed and actors, directors and crew mingled happily together on the dance-floor. Bradley, who had been planning yet another of his attempts to seduce Katie McGrath by dirty dancing with her tonight, instead found himself strangely incapable of detaching himself from Colin, as if drawn by magnetic attraction.
Several times Bradley had glanced over at Katie and Rupert and Eoin and Angel and thought to himself I should really go and talk to them too, but when he glanced back at happy-Colin, there was something that held him back and made him want to stay next to Colin for the whole night, in fact, for as long as he possibly could. Bradley wasn’t sure if it was the influence of the wine or the atmosphere of pure carefree happiness or the fact that Colin was laughing his sweet dorky laugh nonstop and his hair was all scruffed up and his cheeks were a rosy red and his eyes were crinkled at the sides and never seemed to leave Bradley’s.
Bradley wasn’t sure what it was. All he knew was that right by Colin’s side was the only place he wanted to be at that moment, dancing like a goof and making a fool of himself, because nobody would remember any of it the next morning anyway.
Later on, sometime after midnight, Anthony, who was a little tipsy and a very sentimental drunk, went up to the DJ and stopped him to make a request. Bradley had been attempting to teach Colin the technique of dubstep dancing, to little avail - when suddenly the music changed from Skrillex to Ella Fitzgerald. All the oldies seemed rather happy about this, but Bradley suddenly felt a bit lost.
Bradley was about to suggest he and Colin launch a ninja attack on the DJ and blackmail him into changing back to Skrillex, when Bradley noticed that Colin had closed his eyes and was smiling serenely.
Bradley poked him. “Oi, Morgan. You’re not actually enjoying this grandma-music, are you?!”
Colin’s eyelids fluttered open guiltily. “Whattt?” he protested. “It’s not grandma music, it’s Ella Fitzgerald!”
“Who?”
But Colin had closed his eyes again and was humming, an expression of utmost tranquillity settled on his features.
Suddenly, a gush of intense and unidentifiable emotion swept through Bradley, from his toes to his head, leaving every inch of him tingling. The colossal impact of it made him stagger back momentarily, but his eyes remained fixed on Colin, unable to tear himself away.
As he watched, Colin began to sway to the music. And, to Bradley’s astonishment his slender body moved perfectly in time with the rise and fall of this “Ella” person’s voice.
And then Bradley realized that the problem was never that Colin had no sense of rhythm, but that the rhythm had been the wrong one. The realization seemed painfully obvious now. Bradley knew Colin like the back of his hand and Colin was not a grinder or a mosher or a clubber, he was a swayer and a hummer and a waltzer.
And without stopping to think about what he was doing, Bradley took Colin’s hands and pulled him a bit closer.
Colin opened his eyes in confusion. “What-”
“Shh,” Bradley murmured. “Just go with it.” He began to sway in time with Colin.
“But, but Bradley, people are watching.”
“So?”
Colin laughed. “We’re both drunk. This is silly.”
“So is everyone else. C’mon, I taught you how to dirty dance, now you teach me how to dance to - to pretentious music.”
Colin laughed sweetly. “You know, it isn’t pretentious music.”
“It soo is! It’s rich-white-girl music.”
“It’s jazz, you goob. And it’s beautiful.”
Bradley heard the note of earnest in Colin’s voice, and sighed. “Okay then, Col. So, what’s this song called?”
Colin blushed. “Dancing Cheek to Cheek.”
“Well then, Professor Morgan,” Bradley hummed. “You’d better teach me how to dance cheek to cheek.”
Colin blushed deeper still, and looked down at his feet.
Bradley felt himself melt, from the heat of exhilaration and the dancefloor and perhaps a little bit of embarrassment radiating from Colin.
“Col.” Bradley murmured, cupping Colin’s chin gently in one hand and tilting it towards him. “Don’t be shy.”
Colin gazed back at him. “Are you sure,” he mumbled, “this isn’t too pretentious for you?”
Bradley smiled. “Mate, I’m British. Pretentious is my middle name.”
“Then put your hand on my waist,” Colin whispered.
Bradley obliged, for once unable to speak. He placed a hand on Colin's waist, instinctively drawing him closer, closer into the circle of his own warmth.
Heaven, sang the old-fashioned-Ella-voice. I'm in heaven.
His eyes never once left Colin's, as though enchanted.
And my heart beats so, that I can hardly speak.
Bradley could hardly breathe now.
"Now," Colin breathed, as he put one hand on Bradley's shoulder, "take my other hand."
Bradley had forgotten how to move. Colin's voice, low and beckoning, seemed suddenly deeper and more mysterious than ever before, and wiped every other thought from Bradley's mind.
And I seem to find the happiness I seek.
Colin raised his palm, still gazing at Bradley, and Bradley raised his own hand and pressed his palm against Colin's. They stood there like that for a moment, hand on waist, hand on shoulder, palm against palm, and the room evaporated around them, and they were alone, completely alone.
Bradley folded his fingers down between Colin's, their hands intertwined, their eyes never leaving each others'.
When we're out together, dancing cheek to cheek.
He felt weak. This contact with Colin was something new, unchartered territory. He had grabbed Colin's arm more times than he could remember - when trying to show him a wonderful pair of breasts or a perfectly formed steak. They'd had innumerable arm wrestles and thumb wars and slap fights, but never, never had Bradley truly noticed Colin's hands.
They were beautiful and cold and sent shivers down his spine.
Oh, I'd love to climb through mountains.
Bradley's fingertips brushed Colin's knuckles.
Reach the highest peak.
He traced the dips and peaks and contours he longed to explore.
But it wouldn't thrill me half as much,
Bradley could feel Colin's hair tickling the bristles on his chin, and he shuddered again, tingling from head to toe.
As dancing, cheek to cheek.
Bradley began to sway Colin gently. They moved together, in perfect time.
Colin closed his eyes, and leaned his head against Bradley's chest. Bradley rested his chin on Colin's head.
"Hey, Col," Bradley murmured, into his ear.
"Mmm?" Colin was still buried in Bradley’s chest, his hair brushing Bradley’s jaw.
"Col, will you always be my best friend?"
Colin hummed into Bradley's chest. "Always."
Bradley hesitated.
"Even...even if I told you that I'm in love with you?"
Bradley felt Colin smile against his chest.
"Especially if you told me you were in love with me."
An inevitable smile spread across Bradley's face. The smile of a fool in love.
He tucked Colin into his arms and laid his cheek against Colin's.
No, it doesn't thrill me half as much,
as dancing cheek to cheek.
Pairing: Bradley/Colin
Rating/Warnings: G/none
Words: 2,100
Summary: At the Season 4 Wrap party, Bradley decides to teach Colin to dirty dance, and is succeeding...until things get a bit romantic.
Bradley collapsed into a chair, running a hand through his hair, and surveyed the chaos on the dance floor.
Katie was consuming the centre of the dancefloor, whipping her hair back and forth, while nearby Rupert and Tom were doing some form of the chicken dance, only it was more like a mutated-chicken dance because they had linked arms and were attempting to synchronize their movements, something that didn’t work too well under the influence of several shots of tequila. Eoin had pulled off his shirt and was in the wild throes of what appeared to be a passionate mating dance. He was so far failing to attract any women, possibly because nobody dared come anywhere near him for fear of having their eye taken out.
And that, Bradley thought with a chuckle, is why we are actors and not dancers.
From the tornado that was the dance floor, Bradley watched Colin peel himself away and stumble towards him, his face red and his hair dishevelled. He spotted Bradley with visible relief, and dropped into the chair next to him.
“Hey,” he greeted Bradley, sounding out of breath.
“Colin, you dance like you have two left feet,” Bradley laughed.
Colin smiled sheepishly. “Yeah, whatever.”
Bradley sighed. “What are we going to do with you? How are you ever going to seduce any women?”
Colin blushed a bit. “Bradley, nobody seduces women by dancing with them.”
“Are you crazy? Have you seriously never been clubbing?” Bradley shook his head in disbelief. This kid. Bradley poked him. “You have to know how to dance. No question about it.”
“But, but, can’t I just seduce them with my Leprechaun voice?” Colin pouted.
Bradley laughed. He had nicknamed Colin’s Irish accent the Leprechaun voice, and was constantly admonishing Colin for not using his sexy Irish charm to reel in the ladies. Hell, if Bradley had sexy Irish charm, he would never be lonely at night ever again. Everyone knew that women were suckers for an exotic accent. Everyone except Colin, that is.
“I’m glad you’re finally learning, Morgan, but dancing is a universal trump card every man must keep in his back pocket. C’mon, I’m gonna teach you how to dance.”
Colin protested meekly as Bradley stood up and pulled him to his feet.
“Noooo Bradley,” Colin struggled against Bradley’s firm grip. “I’m just gonna make a total arse of myself!”
But Bradley wouldn’t hear it. “Rubbish. By the end of your trial session with certified Dirty Dance Expert Bradley James, you have our guarantee that you’ll be the dirtiest dancer, the greatest grinder, the most marvellous mosher on the dance floor, or your money back.”
Colin laughed. “You’re ridiculous, you know that?” he said, but gave in, allowing himself to be led.
Bradley dragged him straight to the middle of the dance floor where Katie was still whipping her hair, and Rupert and Angel were trying to persuade Eoin put his shirt back on and stop grinding against anything that moved.
“Dance,” Bradley ordered Colin.
Nicki Minaj started playing, and Colin obediently started dancing.
Bradley resisted the urge to facepalm. Colin looked like he was having a seizure, jumping up and down and waving his long arms around like a windmill.
“Stop, stop, stop,” Bradley grabbed Colin’s arm, “you’re going to take someone’s eye out. Besides, you’re doing it wrong.”
Colin drooped sadly.
Bradley felt guilty. “Okay no, you...you show promise. Potential. Nothing that your qualified dirty dancing coach can’t fix. You need to loosen up. Move your feet instead of your arms.”
Bradley moved behind Colin and shook him gently by the shoulders. "C'mon. Loosen up. Your muscles are all tense."
Colin relaxed a little beneath Bradley's grasp.
"Good," said Bradley. "Now move. In time with the music."
Colin began to wave his arms again, but Bradley quickly stopped him by pinning his arms to his sides.
"No, not your arms. Move your feet. Move your hips. In time, find the rhythm."
Colin began to shuffle his feet complacently. Bradley hid a smile. Despite having gone to drama school and learnt singing and piano, Colin was still hopeless at moving with any sense of pulse or rhythm. Bradley kept his hands on Colin's shoulders, at arms' length, and shook him in time with the music.
Colin eventually got the hang of it. He still looked gangly and awkward, but Bradley knew he was a quick learner.
"Not bad, Morgan," Bradley shouted over the thumping music. "It would seem your highly competent dance teacher can work wonders even on the most hopeless students."
Colin pulled a face at him, and started waving his arms again just to annoy Bradley. Bradley laughed at the sight of Colin, and, thinking Oh what the heck, joined in with Colin's windmill-dance.
Together they managed to scare everyone else off the dance floor, and Bradley smiled to himself because any other time, Colin would have been positively mortified to be in the centre of the dance floor practically on his own, but now he seemed to be enjoying himself, and Bradley knew with a flash of pride that it was only because of him, that Colin wouldn’t be caught dead doing this with Katie or Eoin or Angel or anybody else.
When Bradley’s arms eventually grew tired, he gradually stopped windmill dancing and was contented to just bounce around and laugh at Colin’s happy windmill-dancing. Eventually, the others decided it was safe to return to the dance-floor, but everybody seemed to be regarding Bradley and Colin with high suspicion and keeping their distance.
The night wore on and became progressively louder and more vibrant as the wine flowed and actors, directors and crew mingled happily together on the dance-floor. Bradley, who had been planning yet another of his attempts to seduce Katie McGrath by dirty dancing with her tonight, instead found himself strangely incapable of detaching himself from Colin, as if drawn by magnetic attraction.
Several times Bradley had glanced over at Katie and Rupert and Eoin and Angel and thought to himself I should really go and talk to them too, but when he glanced back at happy-Colin, there was something that held him back and made him want to stay next to Colin for the whole night, in fact, for as long as he possibly could. Bradley wasn’t sure if it was the influence of the wine or the atmosphere of pure carefree happiness or the fact that Colin was laughing his sweet dorky laugh nonstop and his hair was all scruffed up and his cheeks were a rosy red and his eyes were crinkled at the sides and never seemed to leave Bradley’s.
Bradley wasn’t sure what it was. All he knew was that right by Colin’s side was the only place he wanted to be at that moment, dancing like a goof and making a fool of himself, because nobody would remember any of it the next morning anyway.
Later on, sometime after midnight, Anthony, who was a little tipsy and a very sentimental drunk, went up to the DJ and stopped him to make a request. Bradley had been attempting to teach Colin the technique of dubstep dancing, to little avail - when suddenly the music changed from Skrillex to Ella Fitzgerald. All the oldies seemed rather happy about this, but Bradley suddenly felt a bit lost.
Bradley was about to suggest he and Colin launch a ninja attack on the DJ and blackmail him into changing back to Skrillex, when Bradley noticed that Colin had closed his eyes and was smiling serenely.
Bradley poked him. “Oi, Morgan. You’re not actually enjoying this grandma-music, are you?!”
Colin’s eyelids fluttered open guiltily. “Whattt?” he protested. “It’s not grandma music, it’s Ella Fitzgerald!”
“Who?”
But Colin had closed his eyes again and was humming, an expression of utmost tranquillity settled on his features.
Suddenly, a gush of intense and unidentifiable emotion swept through Bradley, from his toes to his head, leaving every inch of him tingling. The colossal impact of it made him stagger back momentarily, but his eyes remained fixed on Colin, unable to tear himself away.
As he watched, Colin began to sway to the music. And, to Bradley’s astonishment his slender body moved perfectly in time with the rise and fall of this “Ella” person’s voice.
And then Bradley realized that the problem was never that Colin had no sense of rhythm, but that the rhythm had been the wrong one. The realization seemed painfully obvious now. Bradley knew Colin like the back of his hand and Colin was not a grinder or a mosher or a clubber, he was a swayer and a hummer and a waltzer.
And without stopping to think about what he was doing, Bradley took Colin’s hands and pulled him a bit closer.
Colin opened his eyes in confusion. “What-”
“Shh,” Bradley murmured. “Just go with it.” He began to sway in time with Colin.
“But, but Bradley, people are watching.”
“So?”
Colin laughed. “We’re both drunk. This is silly.”
“So is everyone else. C’mon, I taught you how to dirty dance, now you teach me how to dance to - to pretentious music.”
Colin laughed sweetly. “You know, it isn’t pretentious music.”
“It soo is! It’s rich-white-girl music.”
“It’s jazz, you goob. And it’s beautiful.”
Bradley heard the note of earnest in Colin’s voice, and sighed. “Okay then, Col. So, what’s this song called?”
Colin blushed. “Dancing Cheek to Cheek.”
“Well then, Professor Morgan,” Bradley hummed. “You’d better teach me how to dance cheek to cheek.”
Colin blushed deeper still, and looked down at his feet.
Bradley felt himself melt, from the heat of exhilaration and the dancefloor and perhaps a little bit of embarrassment radiating from Colin.
“Col.” Bradley murmured, cupping Colin’s chin gently in one hand and tilting it towards him. “Don’t be shy.”
Colin gazed back at him. “Are you sure,” he mumbled, “this isn’t too pretentious for you?”
Bradley smiled. “Mate, I’m British. Pretentious is my middle name.”
“Then put your hand on my waist,” Colin whispered.
Bradley obliged, for once unable to speak. He placed a hand on Colin's waist, instinctively drawing him closer, closer into the circle of his own warmth.
Heaven, sang the old-fashioned-Ella-voice. I'm in heaven.
His eyes never once left Colin's, as though enchanted.
And my heart beats so, that I can hardly speak.
Bradley could hardly breathe now.
"Now," Colin breathed, as he put one hand on Bradley's shoulder, "take my other hand."
Bradley had forgotten how to move. Colin's voice, low and beckoning, seemed suddenly deeper and more mysterious than ever before, and wiped every other thought from Bradley's mind.
And I seem to find the happiness I seek.
Colin raised his palm, still gazing at Bradley, and Bradley raised his own hand and pressed his palm against Colin's. They stood there like that for a moment, hand on waist, hand on shoulder, palm against palm, and the room evaporated around them, and they were alone, completely alone.
Bradley folded his fingers down between Colin's, their hands intertwined, their eyes never leaving each others'.
When we're out together, dancing cheek to cheek.
He felt weak. This contact with Colin was something new, unchartered territory. He had grabbed Colin's arm more times than he could remember - when trying to show him a wonderful pair of breasts or a perfectly formed steak. They'd had innumerable arm wrestles and thumb wars and slap fights, but never, never had Bradley truly noticed Colin's hands.
They were beautiful and cold and sent shivers down his spine.
Oh, I'd love to climb through mountains.
Bradley's fingertips brushed Colin's knuckles.
Reach the highest peak.
He traced the dips and peaks and contours he longed to explore.
But it wouldn't thrill me half as much,
Bradley could feel Colin's hair tickling the bristles on his chin, and he shuddered again, tingling from head to toe.
As dancing, cheek to cheek.
Bradley began to sway Colin gently. They moved together, in perfect time.
Colin closed his eyes, and leaned his head against Bradley's chest. Bradley rested his chin on Colin's head.
"Hey, Col," Bradley murmured, into his ear.
"Mmm?" Colin was still buried in Bradley’s chest, his hair brushing Bradley’s jaw.
"Col, will you always be my best friend?"
Colin hummed into Bradley's chest. "Always."
Bradley hesitated.
"Even...even if I told you that I'm in love with you?"
Bradley felt Colin smile against his chest.
"Especially if you told me you were in love with me."
An inevitable smile spread across Bradley's face. The smile of a fool in love.
He tucked Colin into his arms and laid his cheek against Colin's.
No, it doesn't thrill me half as much,
as dancing cheek to cheek.