Merlin RPS Fic: We All Write Our Own Endings 2/3 (Bradley/Colin) NC-17
Part One
***
The readthrough takes place in a small warehouse space down the road from the Crashed offices three weeks later, and for once, Bradley turns up so early that there's nobody else there and in fact no one to even let him in. He's smug that he's there before Colin "I am a serious actor, ask me how" Morgan and also ever so slightly shocked.
Colin arrives ten minutes later, his backpack slung over one shoulder and his hair shoved under an Old Vic cap. "Woke up a bit late this morning, didn't have time to wash my hair."
"Late?" Bradley smirks. "You? I'd have pegged you for camping out overnight so that everyone could see what a horrendous, girly swot you are."
And this is new and yet old at the same time. It's been a long time since Bradley's felt like bantering the day away with anyone, let alone Colin, and the rehearsal at his place had been the gateway, like all he needed was the familiarity of this thing they do in a place that felt safe. It's like none of the past five years even matter, like they're Bradders and Cols all over again.
He's kidding himself of course; they can't just sweep years of hurt and anger and self-destructive behaviour under the table and act as if nothing's changed. There’s going to be fallout at some point, but not yet, not today. They've wasted enough time not being in each other's lives at all. The emptiness he's felt all these years had fuck all to do with being in a strange city that didn't feel like home, surrounded by fake bastards kissing his arse every second of the day, and everything to do with the empty space that used to be occupied by Colin.
"You're in fine form today, James." Colin's arms are crossed and he's got that smile on his face, the one that's reserved for Bradley only, the one that says you are a giant pillock, but I'm strangely charmed by you.
And - yeah. Colin hasn't called him James in a very long time.
He's relieved when Tamara turns up to let them in, because he doesn't know what to say next.
Within twenty minutes they're joined by the rest of the cast and a few members of the production team and after Bradley and Colin nod and say hello, the actors all sit down at the table. It's always strange, this first meeting, what with the posturing and competing egos. Bradley's very grateful that there is at least one friendly face in the cast who doesn't 'play the game' and never has.
He loves Amanda Whitehead, the actress playing his mum, instantly. She reminds him of his own mum, but she's got a raucous laugh and a bawdy sense of humour.
"So," Stuart yells, his voice breaking over the shockingly loud din, "let's get seated and make a start, shall we? Michael?"
Michael stands and waits for everyone to get settled before he begins. "Right, welcome everyone. We're so thrilled everyone could make it today for our first read, get-together, what have you. I thought we'd start by saying our names, who we're playing, or what our function in the crew is, and what you're most looking forward to and dreading about this whole process. Starting with - Bradley."
"Oh. Fantastic. Thanks for the long lead-in-time, Michael." He waits as the laughter dies down and stands up, clearing his throat dramatically. "Alright, well, I'm Bradley James. I like long walks on the beach and Arsenal FC and - well the thing I'm dreading the most is the world seeing my bare arse -"
"We're not!" Amanda interrupts, and the whole room erupts in laughter.
"That's disgusting, you're supposed to be his mum!" someone yells back.
"Alright you lot," Michael says, "let him finish or we'll be here till tomorrow."
"And I guess the thing I'm most looking forward to is - uh - not having to fake a fucking American accent." He nods, curtly and sits back down. Only then does he look over at Colin who's sitting opposite him, and of course it's a lie, the lack of a fake accent isn't what he's most looking forward to at all.
Colin is always nervous when he meets new people. It's part of why he so often gets underestimated and labelled shy.
"Erm, I'm Colin Morgan. I like - erm, a lot of things really. Sorry, that's a rubbish answer. Anyway I'm looking forward to working with this clown again." He gestures at Bradley with his thumb and Bradley feels his chest swell with pride and tries not to read too much into Colin's words, though he wants to very much.
"Can't think of anything I'm not looking forward to. Erm, Bradley's jokes?"
"Ha!" Bradley guffaws. "Not my fault I have a superior wit to you, young padawan."
"Alright you two," Michael says, "let's move on to - Kevin. Come on then."
Colin sits down and Bradley claps a hand on his back. This feels right.
***
It's a great readthrough, and Bradley feels the slight case of nerves he'd been feeling settle as soon as it's over. It's always daunting, not knowing how well a project's been cast, let alone the fact that this is the first film he's had lead billing on, and the material is extremely challenging. There's always that moment of Christ, can I actually do this? Or will everyone see me for the giant fraud I actually am? But the cast is great, and Bradley's happy with his reading. Michael has such a clear vision of what he wants to see that it puts him completely at ease.
He's standing around, having a beer and chatting with Stuart and Colin, when Colin's phone rings. Colin looks at the number and rubs at his eyes, takes a few seconds before he walks away from Bradley and Stu, picking up the call. Bradley can see him fidgeting: playing with a loose thread on the cuff of his jumper. He hears Colin over the general chatter say "half an hour?" then a pause. "Yeah, we're done, I'm just - just chattin' - yeah, out the front at four then. See you soon."
Bradley raises an eyebrow and Colin says quickly, "'s my lift. Sorry, Stu, you were saying?"
He keeps watching Colin and he's obviously uncomfortable now, not chatting as easily or naturally as he was before, so when Colin says his apologies just before four to the few people left over and heads outside, Bradley follows him.
"Bradley, what are you doing?" he groans, looking at his watch. Classic Colin Morgan diversion technique right there.
"Nothing," Bradley says, pursing his lips. "Just wondering why you're sneaking away so early, that's all."
A black BMW pulls up in front of the building and Colin's head drops.
"Look, just. Don't make a big deal out of this, alright? I'll - I'll see you at the station on Sunday, yeah?"
Bradley shakes his head and watches Colin walk over to the car and get in. The driver leans in and kisses him.
Why Colin felt the need to deliberately keep this from him he really doesn't know, but possibly the reaction he's having now might have something to do with it, the jealousy twisting nasty and ugly inside his belly.
The strength of it is worrying.
Bradley goes back inside, grabs his gear and says a quick goodbye to everyone, catches the tube home and starts to drink himself to what he knows will be a truly spectacular hangover.
Eoin is in a bar when Bradley calls him. "Oh my god, you're horrendously drunk aren't you? Please tell me you are, or I'll have to murder you with my bare hands for disturbing my pulling routine."
"I am," he manages to slur, "horrendously drunk."
"Oh christ, what happened?" Eoin asks, yelling over the noise that Bradley can hear in the background. "This has self-destructive bender written all over it."
"Well, yes." Bradley pauses, taking another sip of his vodka and lemonade, which is much stronger than the first one he'd poured, so much so that it makes him grimace. "Let me just tell you that I fucking hate wankers who drive BMWs. And the arseholes who date them. Oh and by the way, Macken, I'm a homosexual."
Eoin laughs, so raucously that he almost sounds like a cackling witch. "Tell me something I don't know, you bloody great poofter. I'll be right over."
When Eoin arrives, the first thing Bradley says to him is, "I never looked at your arse, you know. In case you were worried."
Eoin makes him sit down on the couch and fetches him a huge glass of water and a beer out of the fridge for himself.
"First thing, you're a liar, because my arse is spectacular." He pauses to take a sip. "Second thing? What's Colin done now?"
Bradley just blinks.
"Oh come on, did you really think you were being subtle? Everybody knew. Everybody."
"Oh god." Bradley drinks nearly half of the glass in one hit. "Why didn't you say something? You have no idea how -"
Eoin pats him on the shoulder. "Mate, the last time we went out together you snogged a girl right in front of me. I figured if you'd wanted to tell me then you'd be snogging blokes instead. Or me."
Bradley snorts. "Oh for pity's sake, get over yourself."
"Can't," Eoin says, shrugging. "It's as natural to me as breathing."
"It's a marvel you're single. Really."
"Enough about me." Eoin takes another pull of his beer. "So what's this about tossers in Beemers? Colin has a boyfriend, I take it?"
"Yes. And I don't like him," Bradley says, finishing his water.
"Have you met him?"
"Nope. Don't have to. Hate his guts already."
"Oh mate," Eoin sounds sympathetic and if Bradley had any feeling in his arms right now, he'd probably punch him. "You still - after all this time?"
"Never stopped." It's the first time he's ever admitted it to anyone, even himself.
Eoin pulls him in for a hug and Bradley falls asleep on his chest.
***
Bradley throws up twice before the car arrives to take him to the station on Sunday. The train is at 10am, and he gets up too late to have breakfast, so he just hops in the shower and quickly washes his hair. He brushes his teeth solidly for five minutes because his breath is vile, and throws on his most comfy pair of jeans, his Arsenal jersey and a hoodie.
His hands shake as he ties the laces on his trainers and he tries to clamp down the dread building in his stomach, making his skin prickle. It's different now that it's out in the open like this, the fact that everyone who ever mattered knew about him and Colin. It makes it harder to deny to himself. When he thinks about seeing Colin, knowing what he knows now, his stomach churns and he thinks he might just throw up again.
He arrives at Paddington station just in time to check-in and grab something to eat. He's sitting eating a breakfast wrap and a hash brown and thinking about all the bloody exercise he's going to have to do to work that off, when Colin sits down opposite him.
"Hi," Colin says, eyes downcast and voice low.
"Oh, hello." Bradley tries to sound nonchalant around his mouthful of cholesterol, but he's pretty sure that Colin's not going to buy it for a second.
"So, uh. Been a long time since we've both made this trip, yeah?"
Bradley washes down the last bite of his wrap with disgusting coffee that tastes more like dirty water. He grimaces. "It's - yeah. It's been a while, alright."
The last time they made this trip things were very different. Colin had less worry-lines and Bradley didn't feel like he had the weight of the world on his shoulders. They were both completely oblivious to anything that wasn't their own bliss: arse-over-tit for each other. Bradley remembers sneaking away with Colin and snogging him senseless in the boy's loos, rubbing up against him in that tiny space and whispering "Laters," before walking away with a smug grin in his face.
"So," Bradley says. "How's -"
Colin blushes and looks down at his feet and Bradley feels a sick, bitter thrill in his belly.
"His name's Oliver," Colin says. "He's - we've been - for a while now."
"How long?" Bradley asks, playing with the salt and pepper sprinklings on his tray.
"Four years."
Bradley digs his fingernails into his palms. "Great. That's - really great." He looks at his watch and tuts, "Oh well, look at that. Time to go."
He dumps his tray in the rubbish bin and walks off briskly, not looking back to see how far Colin is behind him.
Colin doesn't say a word for the rest of their trip, just sits with headphones on the whole way, staring out the window while listening to one of his oh-so-serious indie bands and writing in his exercise book. Bradley watches Labyrinth on his iPad and when he shuts his eyes he has an inappropriate fantasy where he's Jareth and Colin is Sarah and Bradley fucks him up against the wall of the Goblin Castle. He's embarrassingly hard and so glad Colin has the window seat, because it means Bradley can surreptitiously sneak off to the loo and toss off, without having to push past him in the process.
When he comes back to his seat, Colin looks up and asks, "You alright?"
He looks so concerned and Bradley wants to tell him to piss off, that he's fucking angry at him for not discussing Oliver and my god, could he have a boyfriend with a poncier name? But Bradley can't be angry with him, not for moving on with his life. It's selfish to expect that he wouldn't. Colin isn't his anymore, hasn't been for years, much as it makes his chest ache to think about it. He just needs to move on. They were friends once, before anything ever happened, and it was good, the work was good and everything was fine. Except for the pining and the flirting and -
"Yeah, mate, I'm grand."
Colin laughs nervously. "You've been spending too much time with Eoin, I think."
"Probably." Bradley taps his knee with his fingers. "So Cardiff, eh? Be funny seeing the old town again. Even for just an hour or two."
"Yeah," Colin says softly. "It'll be nice."
***
The drive from Cardiff to Templeton takes about ninety minutes on the M4, so they have lunch in Cardiff with their driver, Matthew, who suggests fish and chips before they hit the road again. It's been a long day and while Bradley's not sticking to his nutritional plan, it's been a long time since he's had fish and chips, proper fish and chips, and as soon as the thought's in his head he can smell it, taste it already, his mouth watering over the sense memory of the glass-like batter, the grease, the melt-in-the mouth chips with salt and vinegar. They go to Top Gun in Whitchurch, and as if the sense memory wasn't enough, he's hit by an overwhelming jolt of nostalgia.
"Remember -?"
"Of course," Bradley says, cutting him off almost curtly. He doesn't know why Colin's bringing it up but he'd rather he didn't in front of Matthew. It was halfway through the first filming block for season five, and they'd ended up drinking a large amount of lager and Jager bombs with Eoin, Tom and Rupert. They caught a cab to Whitchurch and ordered a ridiculous amount of fried food at the chippie, and ended up back at Eoin and Bradley's. When everyone had crashed, Colin had snuck into Bradley's room and licked the salt from his fingers, before giving him a blowjob that nearly made him scream the house down.
He can't let himself remember it, not now, not in public. It's too much, remembering it with his whole body like this, so he wipes his hands with his serviette and tries to will his brain and body into submission. Tries to think of anything but Colin and his filthy, filthy mouth.
"Nothing but salads for me for the rest of the shoot," he says shakily. "I can't afford to ruin this arse."
"It looks just fine to me," Colin says, picking at his chips, a sly grin on his face.
God, Colin always was the most horrendous flirt. It would make Bradley bloody pissed off if not for the fact that he probably doesn't even realise he's doing it. Probably.
"Thanks," he says, "but not all of us were blessed with your waif-like appearance and your ability to eat mountains of fat and carbohydrates and not gain a stone. I'll be doing squats tonight until my brain starts leaking out my ears as it is."
Colin blinks and looks back down at his food and Bradley wonders exactly what's going through his mind. So fucking enigmatic, he thinks, and isn't that always part of the problem right there? With Colin, Bradley hardly ever knows what the hell he's feeling, let alone what he wants.
For all that it's complicated, it's really nice though, hanging out with him again, working with him again, like they did when things were much simpler and less grown-up. It feels like they could have that back and right now, at the end of the day, this, their friendship is more important to Bradley than could've beens and jealous turns over wankers in BMWs.
If he could just get that kiss out of his head, that is. It's hard to move on when all he can think about is Colin being kissed by someone that isn't him, being pressed into the seat, hands on his face and being kissed so thoroughly he can't breathe. Colin looks up then and catches him staring before Bradley forces himself to look away.
They take off again straight after lunch and they share Colin's headphones, listening to 80's and 90's one-hit wonders and arguing over which is the stupider song, Mistadobilina or Tarzan Boy. Halfway through the trip, Bradley's hangover catches up with him and he falls asleep, the strains of Roxette in his ear.
When he wakes, it takes him a moment to realise that he's been asleep on Colin's shoulder. His mouth's wet, and so is Colin's hoodie, which is embarrassing. But the more worrying fact is that Colin's been asleep too, and the two of them are tilted towards each other, Bradley's head on Colin's shoulder, so close that they're practically breathing each other's air. Closer than they've been in years. Colin's hand is resting on Bradley's thigh and Bradley thinks if he turned his head just slightly, their lips would brush together and it would be good, so good.
Oh yes, the friendship's much more important, James, you filthy liar.
He nudges Colin awake and moves a couple of inches sideways so as to put space between them.
Colin stretches. "Sorry, I just closed my eyes for a minute. Felt like a minute, anyway. Did you drool on my shoulder? Ugh." Colin grimaces and picks his shirt up, wrinkling his nose at the wet patch.
"Yeah. Sorry about that." Bradley gets out his handkerchief and wipes Colin's shoulder, making sure the handkerchief's wadded up thickly so his fingers don't touch anything but the material he's using to dry off Colin. He doesn't want to feel the shape of Colin's arm at all, that would be most unhelpful.
"'sokay." Colin's hair is messy, and his voice is thick and raspy, his accent even thicker than when he's not half-asleep. Bradley's cock reacts to it like clockwork. This being friends thing is really, really not going to work.
He's completely and utterly buggered.
***
Templeton is a quiet, quaint little country village and Bradley loves it. It has gorgeous medieval buildings and it's the kind of place that feels like it should exist in another age. There's something so magical about being somewhere that feels so timeless. The village is named for the Knights Templar, who supposedly settled there all those years ago, and it makes him as excited as he was when he was a boy, discovering those stories for the first time. Makes him feel like he did the first time he donned Pendragon red and it really sunk in that he was playing Arthur.
It's a short shoot, only 28 days, and they're shooting mostly externals in the village. The bulk of the internals will be done on set back in Cardiff, so they're really only there for two weeks, and Bradley thinks he'll be sorry to leave at the end of it. The villagers are so lovely, so welcoming. He doesn't know how welcoming they'd be if they found out the film involved explicit gay sex scenes, but nevertheless, it's nice to be around friendly people who have no idea who he is and expect nothing from him except politeness in return.
They don't stay in Templeton, instead opting for nearby Tenby, which is a tourist town. Templeton is really too small to accommodate actors and a film crew: there's only a pub, a school, three churches and a park, basically. Less than 900 people live there and everybody knows everybody. Not the kind of place Bradley would want to live, but it feels peaceful there, which is a nice respite from living in huge cities for so long.
He settles in very quickly to the routine of waking early, working out and hopping in the car for the short drive to Templeton every morning. The hotel the cast is staying in is not luxury, by any means, but it's old-fashioned and quite beautiful and his room is opposite Colin's, so it feels very familiar to Bradley, familiar and comfortable.
On their first day of shooting, their call gets pushed back. It's raining, but the forecast says it'll clear early afternoon.
"Let's go exploring," Colin suggests. "Not like we'll get a chance otherwise, yeah?"
"Sure, why not?"
They wander around the ruins of Sentence Castle. There isn't much to see of what it used to be, but there's a couple of ancient stone wells and a river. Bradley can't help but think about their trip around Wales, the two of them so excited and so very young. His chest aches when he thinks of how simple everything was back then.
"You're thinking very loudly," Colin says. "Everything okay?"
Bradley wants to laugh, because Colin's fishing and they both know it. But he just reaches out and claps Colin on the back, says, "Just feeling a bit old, mate." It isn't a lie, but it's not exactly the honest truth, either.
They wander back to set and Bradley changes into his costume: trousers and a grey pullover. He carries his peacoat and gloves with him to the make-up trailer, sitting next to Colin who's staring straight ahead at himself in the mirror.
"Now," Eva says, pulling out her brushes, "let's see if we can do something about this horribly plain face."
Colin laughs. "Such a shame he's so plain, isn't it? Awfully hard to find work with a face like his."
Bradley punches him in the shoulder and tries to ignore the warm flush creeping into his cheeks.
"Just do your best," he says, winking at Eva. "I've no doubt you'll do a fantastic job. Not much you can do for those ears though."
Colin rolls his eyes. "I would have thought, James, that after a decade you might come up with some new material."
"Come on," Bradley says as Eva brushes his face with base, "you can't beat the classics."
"Eye closed," Eva says. Bradley shuts his eyes and lets Colin's deep, rich voice curl around his ears.
***
The third day of filming, they shoot the reunion scene, the one they read at Colin's audition.
"No thank you. I don't need a bodyguard and I have assignments to mark, so if you'll excuse me -?"
Colin delivers Toby's line with such deeply-buried anger, such bitterness, and it cuts through Bradley like glass. He's missed this so much, working with someone whose choices are so clear, so precise. It makes Bradley want to push himself, to take risks, to bring his work up to that level.
"I'd forgotten."
"What?" Colin looks up then, and Bradley's blocking is to lean against the wall, and hold his gaze until he looks away. He's holding a pocketbook and pen in his hand, and he lifts the pen to his mouth and taps it against his lip.
"Just how gorgeous you look when you're indignant."
His voice is as low and grating as he can get it, and he notes Colin, gripping Toby's desk with both of his hands, fingers curled tight around the edge before Colin whispers: "You haven't changed a bit."
"Sorry." Bradley crosses over to the desk and stands facing him, leaning down on the desk. "Would you rather I had?"
Colin looks up at him, corners of his mouth twitching, "I didn't say that." It's loaded with heat and it's so intense that it makes Bradley's stomach roll over and his cock swell in his trousers. There's a long beat where the two of them just look at each other and it's almost too much having Colin look at him now.
Colin looks down then, goes back to Toby's marking. "Goodnight, Detective Inspector Farrow."
Colin's hand lies flat on one of the pieces of paper he's marking and Bradley reaches for it, but Colin pulls his hand away.
"Goodnight Toby," he says, softly, and walks away.
"Cut!"
The tension is still heavy in the air as they take a breather for the lighting guys to readjust and make-up to be reapplied. Bradley doesn't look at Colin. It's safer not to.
***
The next day they film scene 32, the almost-kiss, and Bradley thinks he might be even more nervous for that than he was for the gunshot scene. He dreads to think how awful it's going to be when they get to the "intimate" scenes, as Michael likes to call them.
They're both leaning against Toby's car, not looking at each other, and when Michael yells action, Bradley swivels his body in towards Colin's.
He reaches out to touch him, but Colin pulls away.
"This isn't - why are you doing this, Ben?"
Bradley huffs out a laugh. "What? Touching you?"
"No. Well, yes, but -"
"Oh that's clear, Toby. No mixed signals there at all. As usual." He walks over to the opposite car and leans against it, facing Colin. "What are you so damn afraid of?"
Colin folds his arms and looks straight at him. "Well being stalked by a murderer's pretty high on the list right now."
"Oh for fuck's - that's not what I meant and you know it."
Colin looks away and whispers, "I can't go through this, not again."
"But don't you see?" Bradley moves in, close. "We fit. This is - it's just like before, nothing's changed. I still want you, Toby."
Bradley reaches out again, thumb brushing Colin's cheek and he leans into him, his eyes closed.
Colin pushes Bradley's hand away, whispers, "Just - please Ben, you need to - stop."
"Do you really want me to stop?" He smirks, Ben knows that Toby doesn't want him to at all.
"I. Yes. I do."
"Liar." Bradley rubs the pad of his thumb over Colin's bottom lip and leans in, even closer, so their lips are almost touching. "You just keep telling yourself that, Toby. Maybe you might believe it, but I never will."
Colin closes his eyes, says, "Just go. Please."
Bradley shrugs. "Of course." He walks away, down the driveway, not looking back.
When Michael yells "Cut!" Bradley drops down to the ground, face in his hands.
After a long moment, he gets up, shakes out his legs and arms and tilts his head from side to side, cracking the joints in his neck. It's oddly satisfying and a really old habit from football days that his mother always told him off for. "Bradley James, you will end up with the most hideously bad joints if you don't watch out. You won't be young forever you know."
"You okay?" Colin asks, shocking him out of his self-reflection. "That was -"
"A little exhausting."
Colin reaches out and squeezes Bradley's shoulder. "You were amazing."
"Thanks."
"Drink when we get back to the hotel? We're done for the week, they just said. No weekend filming."
"I don't think so."
"Oh. Okay." Colin steps back, putting space between the two of them.
Bradley's stomach twists with guilt, because he didn't mean to sound like an arsehole. He softens his tone. "Really tired, mate. Sorry. Maybe tomorrow?"
"Cool, well, see you in the car then?"
Colin walks away and Bradley wants to run after him, but he stands there and watches, trying to ignore the pain in his chest.
***
The ride back to the hotel is uncomfortable, the kind of awkward silence that makes you want to fill it with mindless chatter, but Bradley isn't even capable of that. He's too lost in his own thoughts, and whenever Matthew asks him a question, Bradley barely manages a two-syllable answer before he's back to focusing on staring out the window.
Colin has to know something's wrong. People in Outer Mongolia could probably tell that something's wrong. Bradley isn't exactly the most subtle person in the world and the fact that his affection for Colin is so fucking transparent has to mean that his negative feelings towards him have to be completely transparent too.
When they get back to the hotel, Colin doesn't say anything, just goes into his room and Bradley finally feels like he can breathe again. He knows it's utterly irrational, this anger, and part of it is tied up in his inability to walk away completely from Ben at the end of a filming day, but there's a part of it that isn't that at all and Bradley needs to deal with it on his own, away from Colin's face making everything worse.
It's inadvisable, but he finds himself calling room service at 11pm, ordering a bottle of wine and a steak and sitting in front of the telly. It doesn't help; in fact he feels like an utter sad bastard, drinking alone while the object of his affection/resentment is so close.
At 1am, the bottle's empty and Bradley's watching some hideous reality show with some of the most appalling people ever to grace the screen. He's not horribly drunk, but he isn't far off and when the pounding on the door comes he knows exactly who it is. He should just ignore Colin and hope he'll go away, but instead he finds himself striding over to the door and opening it.
"Took you long enough." Colin is slurring ever so slightly, and his cheeks are ruddy.
"Told you I was going to bed," Bradley says, coolly.
"Yeah, well." Colin leans against the doorframe. "I knew that was a lie."
"Come in then -" Bradley stands aside, "- before you wake up the whole bloody hotel."
Colin walks in and shuts the door behind him. "Why are you avoiding me, Bradley?" His accent is so thick when he's been drinking that sometimes it's almost incomprehensible.
"Oh come on, Colin. You can't be that dense."
Colin flinches. "Why don't you tell me then? Seems you're dying to, yeah?"
This is possibly the worst situation. Drunk and so many things unresolved, but now that he's been given permission, Bradley can't stop himself, and he spits out, "You're just like him, you know. Toby."
Colin sways a little and looks confused. "What are you even on about?"
"You told me to go, so I went and you didn't once even -"
"Oh we're doing this, are we?" Colin's jaw looks set and he crosses his arms. "You're going to guilt me about not calling, Bradley? That's priceless. Do you think I didn't see your facebook pictures after you left? It was so nice seeing you with your hand up her skirt, really eased the sting of you leaving to see you with a girl."
Fuck.
The back of Bradley's throat tastes bitter and he's struggling to control the waver in his voice. "Look, those pictures weren't anything. Not that I even owe you an explanation, but I was fucking miserable and completely high and we didn't even - nothing happened, alright?"
He's shaking now. "Besides, you were the one who said to leave, Colin, I mean, christ. That's your fucking problem isn't it? You always want too much - everything or nothing for you, mate."
"Everything?"
Colin's face is red and his jaw is set and he's clenching his fists at his side. "All I asked for, Bradley, was you. That's all. And all I got was this much -" He holds his thumb and forefinger up. "Excuse me for not wanting to watch while you pretended you were in fucking love with Angel to anyone who asked. If that's everything then I guess I'm a selfish bastard."
"Glad you finally admit it." Bradley doesn't mean it, but this has gone too far now and he can't seem to stop the words tumbling out, loaded and bitter. "Tell me, Cols. How long did it take you to get down on your knees? A week, a month?"
"Don't fucking call me that." Colin sounds angry, but it's measured and cold, deliberate. "And it didn't take long at all. Is that what you wanted to hear? Want to hear about the first bloke who shoved me up against a wall and fucked me? Want to hear how good it -"
Bradley grabs Colin by the arms, pushes him up against the door. "Stop fucking talking. Now."
"Why? You asked. If you didn't want to know then why the hell did you -"
Bradley puts his hands on Colin's cheeks and presses his lips against Colin's, bruisingly hard. Colin reacts immediately, groaning and opening his mouth and Bradley bites and sucks at his bottom lip before pushing his tongue insistently into Colin's mouth. Colin gets his hands in Bradley's hair, gripping tight and there's nothing tender about this kiss, it's Bradley sucking on Colin's tongue, their teeth banging together, clumsily. Bradley pulls away, and sucks at the base of Colin's neck. He wants to mark him there, for everyone to see; it makes his cock throb just thinking about it and he grabs at Colin's arse and grinds his hips forward, letting him feel how hard he is. Colin hisses and Bradley can't believe how good this is. He smells just like he always did: musky and salty and perfect and Bradley wants to fuck him right here, just lay him out and -
"Stop..." Colin pants out. "Bradley, we have to stop.”
Colin pushes him away, and Bradley tilts his head back, closes his eyes and whispers, "Jesus."
"What the fuck just happened?" Colin sounds panicked, his hitched, his voice completely raw. "I - fuck, I'm so sorry, Bradley. I didn't mean -"
"I did," Bradley admits, and when he sees the pained look on Colin's face he quickly adds, "Not the things I said. It's just been a long time coming, I think. For both of us."
He touches Colin's cheek, gently this time. "But I won't apologise for kissing you, Cols. I've wanted to for -" Months. Years.
Colin steps back. "I - I can't. You know that. I have someone and I can't just - I was never expecting to see you again. It's more complicated than just giving in like this."
"What if it didn't have to be though? What then?"
Colin smiles then, a half-smile which looks regretful and sad. "If only it were that easy."
It is, Bradley wants to yell at him. It's only ever as easy or complicated as we make it. Maybe if he could just keep Colin here and hold him, make him see that it makes sense, that nothing's changed, that all that matters is what they feel - But he isn't in his twenties anymore, and as much he wants to pretend the opposite, he knows that Colin's right.
"I should go," Colin says, slow and drawn out, "Night."
He doesn't watch Colin leave, just waits till the door shuts behind him before he looks up again.
***
He doesn't see Colin at breakfast the next morning, which Bradley's rather glad of because he doesn't know what the hell he'd say to him if he was there. Last night is too fresh, too raw, and Bradley doesn't think he could face Colin mere hours after the fact, with the memory of Colin's tongue in his mouth, and Bradley's face still sore from the burn of Colin's beard against his skin.
It's impulsive and completely immature, but he leaves at 2 o'clock, catches a train to Swansea and a connecting train to Cardiff. The journey takes around 3 hours all up, and he answers emails on his phone, watches a couple of classic Match of the Day episodes on his iPad and has a short nap.
He checks into the Hilton Cardiff and takes a bath. It's been ages since he's had one and he stays in there much longer than he should, the hot water soothing his aching, tired muscles. He doesn't mean to, but he dozes off and when the buzzing of his phone wakes him up, the water has turned luke-warm. Bradley gets out and dries himself off, wraps a towel around his hips and picks up his phone.
The text message is from Colin, and Bradley decides to be a grown-up and actually read it, rather than deleting it which was his first instinct.
tried to find you but the front desk said you'd gone to Cardiff wtf?
Bradley types back sorry, just needed a break. see you tomorrow?
of course. have a good time.
It's so stilted and clipped and awkward and Bradley really wants to know what's going through Colin's brain after last night.
The VIP lounge at Glam is still as plush and ridiculously gorgeous as Bradley remembers. He sits in a velvet chair, sipping on a glass of really good bourbon, and watching the rich and gorgeous attempt to connect.
"Can I buy you a drink?" The voice is deep, smooth and Welsh-accented. Bradley takes his time looking up and sees it belongs to a tall bloke with messy brown hair. He's wearing a black shirt, artfully ripped around the shoulders, and dark bootcut jeans with brown leather boots. He's lean but muscled in all the right places, and Bradley can't help but feel incredibly smug.
"Still working on this one thanks," he replies, taking another sip from his drink. "You may as well sit down, though."
"I'm Gareth," the bloke says, shaking Bradley's hand as he sinks into the chair opposite him, "and you're Bradley, yeah?"
Bradley smiles. "I am indeed. Merlin fan by any chance?"
"Oh yes." Gareth says, leaning in a little closer, "I've had many dirty little fantasies about Arthur Pendragon." He looks suddenly horrified when Bradley's eyes widen. "Oh god, sorry, that's horribly forward of me, isn't it? I'm more than a little tipsy, I wouldn't normally make a complete git of myself like this."
Bradley laughs, because his backtracking is really quite adorable. This isn't necessarily why he came to the club tonight, but he'd be lying if he said he hadn't thought about it at all.
"That's quite alright, Gareth." Bradley leans in. "Rather flattering actually, to tell you the truth."
"Oh thank god." Gareth smiles wide. "I thought for a minute you might hit me in the face."
"Not at all." Bradley drains his glass and sits back, biting his lip. "Tell you what, I think I've had enough of here. I've got a room back at the Hilton, so why don't you come back there with me for a drink?"
Gareth blinks, his mouth dropping open, like he can't quite believe this is actually happening. Bradley decides then and there that perhaps Eoin's right using Merlin as a pick-up strategy.
"I - you want me to &mdash?"
"Very much," Bradley replies, and he stands up, walking towards the staircase with Gareth following close behind.
They catch a cab and while Bradley would like to jump Gareth straight away, he's still mindful of being too obvious in public. Bradley waits until they're inside his suite before he pushes Gareth up against the door and kisses him, his tongue pushing in deep.
It feels good, just losing himself in someone else's mouth, someone who doesn't know him beyond his face and who he is onscreen. Someone he doesn't have any feelings for beyond sexnowplease. He gets his fingers in Gareth's belt loops and pulls him in, letting him feel how hard he is and it elicits a slow, drawn-out groan.
"God," Gareth says, panting between kisses, "I would never have pegged you for queer until tonight, you know -"
Bradley bites his collarbone, says, "That's the general idea."
"Lucky I was a drunken slut or I'd've never known." He hisses when Bradley sucks on the base of his neck, and the memory of Colin last night, making the same noise, hits him and his belly floods with heat.
Well fuck. That's the last thing he should be thinking about right now. He kisses Gareth again to try and shut it out, but it's too late, and when he closes his eyes all he can see is Colin: Colin's ears and his smile and the way he is when he gets desperate and turned on and stupid with want. The way he feels underneath Bradley, skin slick with sweat as Bradley slides inside him.
Bradley's so very fucked and he steps back, letting go of Gareth and runs his fingers through his own hair. "I'm so sorry. I don't think I can do this."
"Wow, that bad?" Gareth folds his arms. "'Cause here I was thinking we were going to have the fuck of the century."
Bradley shakes his head. "No, it wasn't bad at all. Quite the opposite, actually. And I really am sorry. It's just - things are just a tad complicated for me right now and I thought this would help, but it's probably not the best idea."
It's a pattern he's been repeating for far too long, years if he's honest with himself. And right in the middle of an almost shag might not be the best time for self-reflection where Colin is concerned, but it is what it is.
"Well, that's a shame." Gareth sounds disappointed, but he presses his card into Bradley's hand. "Change your mind, you know where I am."
Bradley doesn't say anything. There's not much he can say.
***
When he gets back to the hotel on Sunday, Bradley hops straight in the shower. 6 hours of travelling in two days may not sound like a lot, but he hasn't slept much either and he’s worn down and sweaty and just flat-out exhausted. He dresses, a soft t-shirt and jogging bottoms and pads across the hallway to Colin's room.
He's rehearsed what he's going to say a dozen times, but all that falls out the window when Colin answers the door.
"Can I -?" Bradley doesn't know how he actually manages to get the words out. His heart's beating erratically; he can feel it in his throat.
"Course," Colin says and stands aside for Bradley to walk in, shutting the door behind him. "How was Cardiff?"
"It was - it was fine."
"I just wanted to say -" he starts, "that I'm sorry for the other night. I thought it was what you wanted and if I put you in an awkward position, Colin, I'm really sorry."
Colin looks tired and drawn. He inhales deeply, says, "I need some time. Not much, just a little, okay? Lot of things to figure out."
He smiles a little, just a half-smile, like he doesn't really mean it and Bradley aches to reach out and touch him, but he holds himself back.
"I think I'll go and crash," he says, stretching. "Pretty zonked. We can - we will talk about this later though, when you're ready, yeah?"
Colin nods.
"Big day tomorrow."
"Yeah," Colin says, biting his lip. "Scene 60. I was going to ask you if you wanted to run lines, but -"
"Not tonight," Bradley says, grinning wryly. "Goodnight, mate."
He doesn't look back to see if Colin's still looking at him when he leaves; he thinks it's probably better that he doesn't know.
Part Three