Fic: black balloons need to fly, (RPF: Bradley James/Colin Morgan), 1/1
Title: black balloons need to fly
Fandom: RPF (TV Show Actors)
Character/Pairing: Bradley James/Colin Morgan
Rating: PG-13
Genre: General
Summary: Bradley is impossible. A geek in jock clothing.
Length: 1,444 words
Status: Complete
Warnings: This is real person fic here, meant with absolutely no disrespect or harm intended. Just a little fun that would not leave my mind until I had it written down. Not that I really minded having the boys playing around in my head...
black balloons need to fly
“He’s my mum’s father’s brother’s son.” Bradley says, his eyes fixed vacantly on something to the left of where he should be looking. “Or my second cousin three times removed.” He shrugs his shoulders like it’s not important to know what relation the guy being buried ten feet away is to him.
“Bradley.” Colin sort of half rolls his eyes before remembering that this is a funeral and that’s probably not something you’re supposed to do in a cemetery.
“What? Everyone just called him Uncle John.” Colin squeezes the fingers in his own a little tighter.
Except...
“I thought you said his name was Joseph.”
“It was. But we called him Uncle John. Even his mum called him Uncle John.”
And see, this is where Colin can never tell if Bradley is joking or if the look of guilelessness is completely genuine.
“Right.” He’s going to believe him this time, because given the way Bradley’s turned out, Colin would bet substantial money that there’s more like him in the family.
“Where is your mum?” Colin asks a few minutes later. They’re a little away from the main congregation, which is surprisingly small given what Colin’s learnt about the size of this side of Bradley’s family.
“Um.” Bradley scans the few heads in front of them, reaching up and brushing the hair out of his eyes. Colin isn’t sure if it’s acceptable to ogle someone at a funeral, but Bradley’s looking especially sexy in his black suit. All clean cut lines and just a hint of stubble. Colin loves the stubble; it’s why he’s taken to hiding Bradley’s razor three days out of every four.
“She’s not here.” Bradley says eventually. “She’s probably just running late.”
To a funeral? Colin thinks, but shakes his head.
“Or maybe she got cornered by a group of zombies over by that creepy tomb we saw.” Bradley continues.
“Zombies? In broad daylight?” Colin asks, before realising that urgh, that is really not the part he should be questioning.
“Vampires?” Bradley asks and pushes his sunglasses back up his nose. Colin just grips his hand tighter as something pulses in his chest. Bradley is impossible. A geek in jock clothing.
Colin snorts and Bradley glares at him from behind his glasses.
“What?” He asks, lower lip pouting like he thinks he’s being left out of a joke. Which he is, sort of. Bradley’s also kind of scarily psychic sometimes.
“Just thinking of you in disguise.” Colin says.
“Like, tights and a cape?” Bradley asks, pout lifting.
Colin stares at him for a long time.
“Your head must be a really odd place to live in.” He says eventually.
“It is.” Bradley answers. “Just ask the locals.”
And then they’re stifling giggles in their hands and Colin elbows Bradley in the side to shut the hell up, because it’s a funeral and they should be all funereal and not giggling like school girls.
Bradley kicks him in the shin and then they have to turn away from each other to calm down.
“Oh.” Bradley says a few minutes later, eyes on his blackberry. Colin looks at him because, unfortunately, he knows that tone.
“What?”
Bradley looks a little sheepish and a lot innocent and Colin knows he’s faking it; Bradley’s a good actor, yes, and a superb liar, but he can’t fake anything, thankfully.
“Uncle John’s funeral.” He says.
“We’re at it.” Colin points out, reaching up to rub at the back of his neck, soothing the hairs that have started to stand up there.
“Actually--”
Colin frowns and closes his eyes on a deep sigh. “When is it?”
“Next week.”
It’s one of those things that couldn’t happen to anyone except Bradley, and of course, by extension and some twist of truly evil fate that lead to him getting the part of Merlin and then falling arse over tea-kettle for his co-star, to Colin too.
“We’re leaving.” He says eventually, dropping Bradley’s hand and turning back towards the car.
“Wait.” He turns back and Bradley’s there, walking closer to the newly filled grave.
“Bradley!” It’s nothing more than a whisper, because the few mourners that had turned up are already starting to leave and the route back to the car park takes them right past Colin.
“Unbelievable.” He mutters under his breath. And to think, he could have been enjoying a lazy Sunday in bed. A new book, soft sunlight and stroking his finger’s through Bradley’s hair while the blonde lay watching the latest episode of Doctor Who, his head in Colin’s lap.
But no, he had to get up early, force himself into a suit even though he barely wears them when the show’s premiering and drive half-way across the country for a funeral that’s not even for someone either of them actually know. And all because if there is one constant in the universe, it’s that Bradley James will always be Bradley James; lousy planning skills and all. Next time Colin is going to say no.
When the last mourner leaves, Colin walks up to where Bradley crouches, to the right of the churned soil.
“-- a lovely day.” Bradley’s saying and Colin steps right up behind him so that his knees press against Bradley’s back. Bradley leans into them.
“What’re you telling him?” Jonathon Pride the gravestone reads. 1942 - 2011. There’s no epitaph. Colin settles a hand on Bradley’s shoulder.
“Just being polite. Thanking him for a lovely day.” Bradley’s mother would be so proud of her son’s manners, once she looked past the whole gatecrashing a funeral bit and the complete inappropriateness of said manners in such a situation.
“Right.” And he thinks; Bradley, it’s Bradley, what did you expect?
Bradley stands up, his fingers brushing the stone as he rises, tracing out the J.
“You’re coming next week, right?” And Colin’s already nodding before Bradley even looks at him.
“Of course.” He says, taking Bradley’s hand and tangling their fingers together.
He looks out across the Church grounds and the fields and grass beyond as they walk back to the car.
“Maybe next week, after, we could stay near here, explore a little.” They’re due for a bit of a holiday.
“Um. Uncle John’s not being buried here.”
Colin stops dead, and then flinches internally at the pun. “What?”
“Err.” Is Bradley’s eloquent and clearly oh so enlightening response.
“For fuck’s sake Bradley!” Colin shakes his head and starts walking again, his legs eating up the last few metres to the car.
“Language.” Bradley says and then; “What?” Bradley jogs a little beside him, pulled off balance by the way Colin is dragging him by their joined hands. “It’s not like you remembered either.”
“You didn’t tell me the details and he’s not my Uncle!” They reach the car and Colin pulls out the keys, passing them to Bradley and letting him go so he can walk over to the passenger side.
“That’s a pathetic excuse. Worst excuse ever in the history of excuses. In fact, it’s so bad that it didn’t even qualify as an excuse and was kicked out of excuse school for failing all of its excuse exams. And now it lives a lonely and pathetic life because all the other real excuses shun it and call it horrible names.”
“Bradley.” Colin says, clipping his seatbelt and gripping the door handle tightly.
“Yeah?”
“Shut up.” Bradley starts the engine and Colin flicks on the radio. Music blares out of the speakers and even though he knows Bradley is going to start singing any minute now, he doesn’t care.
“Thank you.” Bradley says, just as they pull out of the cemetery and onto the road. “For being here. Couldn’t have done it without you.”
“Ejjit.” Colin says. But his nose wrinkles and he can’t fight the smile.
Bradley smiles back and then they’re engaged in some kind of smiling battle until a car horn beeps loudly and Bradley seems to remember that he is supposed to be driving.
Colin will have to phone Bradley’s mum when they get home and have her tell him exactly where and when Uncle John’s funeral actually is. He’ll probably try to get information about any up and coming James family meet-ups too while he’s at it and then write them all very precisely on the calender.
Otherwise he knows, with the complete and utter certainty of someone who has been here before, that this will all happen again to Bradley somewhere else. And then Colin will have to get up early and drive half-way across the country for absolutely no reason again. Which he has already proven he will do.
Because he loves Bradley. God help him, but he does.
Fandom: RPF (TV Show Actors)
Character/Pairing: Bradley James/Colin Morgan
Rating: PG-13
Genre: General
Summary: Bradley is impossible. A geek in jock clothing.
Length: 1,444 words
Status: Complete
Warnings: This is real person fic here, meant with absolutely no disrespect or harm intended. Just a little fun that would not leave my mind until I had it written down. Not that I really minded having the boys playing around in my head...
black balloons need to fly
“He’s my mum’s father’s brother’s son.” Bradley says, his eyes fixed vacantly on something to the left of where he should be looking. “Or my second cousin three times removed.” He shrugs his shoulders like it’s not important to know what relation the guy being buried ten feet away is to him.
“Bradley.” Colin sort of half rolls his eyes before remembering that this is a funeral and that’s probably not something you’re supposed to do in a cemetery.
“What? Everyone just called him Uncle John.” Colin squeezes the fingers in his own a little tighter.
Except...
“I thought you said his name was Joseph.”
“It was. But we called him Uncle John. Even his mum called him Uncle John.”
And see, this is where Colin can never tell if Bradley is joking or if the look of guilelessness is completely genuine.
“Right.” He’s going to believe him this time, because given the way Bradley’s turned out, Colin would bet substantial money that there’s more like him in the family.
“Where is your mum?” Colin asks a few minutes later. They’re a little away from the main congregation, which is surprisingly small given what Colin’s learnt about the size of this side of Bradley’s family.
“Um.” Bradley scans the few heads in front of them, reaching up and brushing the hair out of his eyes. Colin isn’t sure if it’s acceptable to ogle someone at a funeral, but Bradley’s looking especially sexy in his black suit. All clean cut lines and just a hint of stubble. Colin loves the stubble; it’s why he’s taken to hiding Bradley’s razor three days out of every four.
“She’s not here.” Bradley says eventually. “She’s probably just running late.”
To a funeral? Colin thinks, but shakes his head.
“Or maybe she got cornered by a group of zombies over by that creepy tomb we saw.” Bradley continues.
“Zombies? In broad daylight?” Colin asks, before realising that urgh, that is really not the part he should be questioning.
“Vampires?” Bradley asks and pushes his sunglasses back up his nose. Colin just grips his hand tighter as something pulses in his chest. Bradley is impossible. A geek in jock clothing.
Colin snorts and Bradley glares at him from behind his glasses.
“What?” He asks, lower lip pouting like he thinks he’s being left out of a joke. Which he is, sort of. Bradley’s also kind of scarily psychic sometimes.
“Just thinking of you in disguise.” Colin says.
“Like, tights and a cape?” Bradley asks, pout lifting.
Colin stares at him for a long time.
“Your head must be a really odd place to live in.” He says eventually.
“It is.” Bradley answers. “Just ask the locals.”
And then they’re stifling giggles in their hands and Colin elbows Bradley in the side to shut the hell up, because it’s a funeral and they should be all funereal and not giggling like school girls.
Bradley kicks him in the shin and then they have to turn away from each other to calm down.
“Oh.” Bradley says a few minutes later, eyes on his blackberry. Colin looks at him because, unfortunately, he knows that tone.
“What?”
Bradley looks a little sheepish and a lot innocent and Colin knows he’s faking it; Bradley’s a good actor, yes, and a superb liar, but he can’t fake anything, thankfully.
“Uncle John’s funeral.” He says.
“We’re at it.” Colin points out, reaching up to rub at the back of his neck, soothing the hairs that have started to stand up there.
“Actually--”
Colin frowns and closes his eyes on a deep sigh. “When is it?”
“Next week.”
It’s one of those things that couldn’t happen to anyone except Bradley, and of course, by extension and some twist of truly evil fate that lead to him getting the part of Merlin and then falling arse over tea-kettle for his co-star, to Colin too.
“We’re leaving.” He says eventually, dropping Bradley’s hand and turning back towards the car.
“Wait.” He turns back and Bradley’s there, walking closer to the newly filled grave.
“Bradley!” It’s nothing more than a whisper, because the few mourners that had turned up are already starting to leave and the route back to the car park takes them right past Colin.
“Unbelievable.” He mutters under his breath. And to think, he could have been enjoying a lazy Sunday in bed. A new book, soft sunlight and stroking his finger’s through Bradley’s hair while the blonde lay watching the latest episode of Doctor Who, his head in Colin’s lap.
But no, he had to get up early, force himself into a suit even though he barely wears them when the show’s premiering and drive half-way across the country for a funeral that’s not even for someone either of them actually know. And all because if there is one constant in the universe, it’s that Bradley James will always be Bradley James; lousy planning skills and all. Next time Colin is going to say no.
When the last mourner leaves, Colin walks up to where Bradley crouches, to the right of the churned soil.
“-- a lovely day.” Bradley’s saying and Colin steps right up behind him so that his knees press against Bradley’s back. Bradley leans into them.
“What’re you telling him?” Jonathon Pride the gravestone reads. 1942 - 2011. There’s no epitaph. Colin settles a hand on Bradley’s shoulder.
“Just being polite. Thanking him for a lovely day.” Bradley’s mother would be so proud of her son’s manners, once she looked past the whole gatecrashing a funeral bit and the complete inappropriateness of said manners in such a situation.
“Right.” And he thinks; Bradley, it’s Bradley, what did you expect?
Bradley stands up, his fingers brushing the stone as he rises, tracing out the J.
“You’re coming next week, right?” And Colin’s already nodding before Bradley even looks at him.
“Of course.” He says, taking Bradley’s hand and tangling their fingers together.
He looks out across the Church grounds and the fields and grass beyond as they walk back to the car.
“Maybe next week, after, we could stay near here, explore a little.” They’re due for a bit of a holiday.
“Um. Uncle John’s not being buried here.”
Colin stops dead, and then flinches internally at the pun. “What?”
“Err.” Is Bradley’s eloquent and clearly oh so enlightening response.
“For fuck’s sake Bradley!” Colin shakes his head and starts walking again, his legs eating up the last few metres to the car.
“Language.” Bradley says and then; “What?” Bradley jogs a little beside him, pulled off balance by the way Colin is dragging him by their joined hands. “It’s not like you remembered either.”
“You didn’t tell me the details and he’s not my Uncle!” They reach the car and Colin pulls out the keys, passing them to Bradley and letting him go so he can walk over to the passenger side.
“That’s a pathetic excuse. Worst excuse ever in the history of excuses. In fact, it’s so bad that it didn’t even qualify as an excuse and was kicked out of excuse school for failing all of its excuse exams. And now it lives a lonely and pathetic life because all the other real excuses shun it and call it horrible names.”
“Bradley.” Colin says, clipping his seatbelt and gripping the door handle tightly.
“Yeah?”
“Shut up.” Bradley starts the engine and Colin flicks on the radio. Music blares out of the speakers and even though he knows Bradley is going to start singing any minute now, he doesn’t care.
“Thank you.” Bradley says, just as they pull out of the cemetery and onto the road. “For being here. Couldn’t have done it without you.”
“Ejjit.” Colin says. But his nose wrinkles and he can’t fight the smile.
Bradley smiles back and then they’re engaged in some kind of smiling battle until a car horn beeps loudly and Bradley seems to remember that he is supposed to be driving.
Colin will have to phone Bradley’s mum when they get home and have her tell him exactly where and when Uncle John’s funeral actually is. He’ll probably try to get information about any up and coming James family meet-ups too while he’s at it and then write them all very precisely on the calender.
Otherwise he knows, with the complete and utter certainty of someone who has been here before, that this will all happen again to Bradley somewhere else. And then Colin will have to get up early and drive half-way across the country for absolutely no reason again. Which he has already proven he will do.
Because he loves Bradley. God help him, but he does.