fic: hey, who turned out the lights?
title: Hey, who turned out the lights?
pairing: Bradley/Colin
words: 3062
rating: PG-13
note: written for bradleycolin RPS challenge #3. I've used the prompts "It was a dark and stormy night..." and also a bit of "Bradley and Colin and their Nintendo DS." Doctor Who fans may recognize the title, but this fic actually has nothing to do with Vashta Neradas.
Hey, Who Turned Out The Lights?
It's a dark and stormy night...
Not that it bothers Bradley and Colin (at least, for now) snuggled up toasty warm in Colin's hotel room. Snuggled up separately, of course, because they're still in denial about their feelings for one another, even though they spend almost every waking moment together on and off camera.
They're sat on the floor by the bottom of Bradley's bed watching a film on the hotel television called La Moustache. In Bradley's opinion, the title of the film doesn't leave much to the imagination. Colin tells him the film is about the lead character's loss of identity. Bradley just thinks it's about some French bloke who shaved off his moustache, and how everything spirals boringly from there.
"Colin, do you think I'd look good with a moustache?"
Bradley hasn't stopped talking since the film started. Colin drags his attention away from the telly, cocking his head thoughtfully as his eyes settle on Bradley's upper lip.
Three minutes later, Bradley boasts a drawn on handlebar moustache, courtesy of Colin.
"No," Colin says in response to Bradley's question three minutes ago, reading the side of the marker pen. "No, you wouldn't look good at all, Bradley." Something catches his eye, causing him to frown. "Oh dear."
"What?" Bradley says, stroking his fake moustache.
"La permanent?" Colin replies in very bad French.
Bradley stops stroking and fixes Colin with a glare. He's going to look like a laughing stock on set tomorrow (no change there, then). "You bastard."
And then the room falls into darkness.
"What the hell?" Bradley says immediately, with a definite flicker of panic in his voice. "What did you do, Morgan?"
"I didn't do anything," Colin defends himself, sounding far calmer than Bradley. Bradley sounds almost scared, and Colin sniggers at him. "You're not afraid of the dark, are you?"
"Don't be stupid," Bradley says, which doesn't really answer Colin's question. "Go find out what's happened." He's perfectly capable of finding out himself, of course, but he's method acting right now, so he orders to Colin to do it.
"Yes, sire," Colin can't help but mutter, getting up off the floor.
Not only have all the lights gone out, but the television has switched off as well. Colin flicks the light switch up and down, but nothing happens. Next, he opens the door leading out to the corridor. Colin's eyes strain into the darkness; the corridor is usually lit up with lights, but now they're all off. Considering how late it is, most people aren't even awake to notice the hotel's unexpected loss of electricity.
"Seems like a power cut," Colin says, listening to the wind whistle and thunder clap outside. He whips around suddenly and bumps into something - Bradley's chest.
"Shit, Bradley," Colin gasps slightly, grabbing Bradley's arm to steady himself. "You gave me a fright."
There's a short pause of silence where the only sound that can be heard is their mingled breathing, somewhat faster than usual, possibly because they're stood very close to one another and Colin hasn't let go of Bradley's arm yet. Then Bradley brings his mouth close to Colin's ear and says: "This is what I was afraid of." And Colin wonders what exactly he means, until Bradley adds: "You groping me in the dark."
Colin blushes, and if it's A Moment, it's broken by Colin releasing Bradley's arm and shoving him in the shoulder with his hand, earning an amused chuckle from the blond.
"I'm much more likely to murder you," Colin says, perhaps a little too cheerfully, but Bradley is used to death threats. He can be quite annoying sometimes. "What now?"
***
They play with their Nintendo DS's in the dark.
Contrary to what Colin told Merlin fans at the London Expo, he doesn't always win. Rather, he rarely wins, because Bradley is a competitive arse. Bradley also cheats. Colin has come close to winning several times in the past half-hour, and then Bradley, the cheater, decides to start play-fighting - mostly rough-tickling - with Colin moments before Princess Peach (there's nothing weird about Colin picking Princess Peach, nothing weird at all) approaches the finish line.
"Yes!" Bradley jumps for joy. "I win again!" He makes the L-sign for loser on his forehead, and Colin feels a lot better because not only do really big losers do that, but Bradley's moustache makes him look like Mario. "Better luck next time, Princess."
"You're a cheat," Colin states, unimpressed by Bradley's gloating when it was an unfair victory.
"Shit," Bradley says all of a sudden, smacking his Nintendo. "I think my battery's just died."
Within seconds, the screen of Colin's Nintendo fades to black. "Mine, too."
The power is still out, and neither of them are sleepy.
"What now?"
***
They decide to make their own home movie.
(Not that kind of home movie. They're still in denial, after all.)
The short film will be a sequel to a previous short film they shot in the caves, wherein Bradley was killed by the red-eyed duck. The plot of the sequel is simple: Colin will seek revenge against the red-eyed duck after the monster brutally murdered his best friend.
"It'll be called: The Red-eyed Duck 2," Bradley decides.
"Gives the story away a bit, don't you think?"
"Well, it worked for bloody La Moustache."
Put a video camera in Bradley's hands and he thinks he's sodding Spielberg.
"So, you'll be in the bath, minding your own business--"
"What?" Colin interrupts. "Why am in the bath? Why can't you be in the bath? Am I naked in this bath?"
(Maybe it is that kind of home movie, after all.)
"Do you usually bathe with clothes on, Colin? I can't be in the bath because I'm dead, obviously."
Looking pretty good for a corpse, Colin thinks morbidly. "Obviously."
Bradley starts again. "You'll be in the bath, minding your own business, and then you hear this chilling noise. Quacking. Then, the red-eyed duck attacks!"
Sadly, the battery of Bradley's video camera dies within the first five seconds of filming. Shooting what Bradley is convinced will be their Oscar-winning movie is left for another day. Colin is relieved, praying Bradley will forget about the damn duck sequel.
"What now?"
***
Getting drunk seems like the most logical next step to curing their boredom. It's any wonder why they didn't think of it in the first place.
It's a bit late to go out and buy alcohol - not to mention the storm - so they knock on Anthony's door instead to see if he's got any. Bradley's reasoning is: what are on-screen fathers for? They're for booze, of course.
Anthony answers the door sleepily, hands them a bottle of red wine, mumbles something about them having fun and the like, and goes back to bed.
An hour later - "Why hasn't the bloody electricity come back yet, Colin? We could be watching French porn right now!" - they lay sprawled on Bradley's bed in the dark, drunk as skunks. A bit of moonlight comes through the window, casting a dim glow on their figures. It's absolutely true what Bradley and the others said on the Merlin commentary about Colin and alcohol: like Merlin, one whiff of a bar maid's apron and Colin does sing like a sailor. He's singing like a sailor this very moment, if a sailor has ever sung Monty Python's Knights of the Round Table.
"We dine well here in Camelot!" He sounds even more Irish and unclear given a few glasses of wine. "We eat ham and jam and spam a lot!" He turns on his side to face Bradley. "Except I don't eat ham because I'm a vegetarian."
"You're so drunk," Bradley sniggers. He's talking about Colin, of course, but the same statement could be applied to himself.
"I'm tipsy," Colin says, tracing the pen moustache on Bradley's upper lip with his finger. At some point, Colin's hand slips and his finger accidentally goes up Bradley's nose, and they burst into collective giggles. "Okay, I'm drunk," Colin accepts.
Bradley looks into the wine bottle - the empty wine bottle - like a telescope, holding it up to his eye. "Bad news, mate," he sighs sadly. "It's all gone."
"What's gone?"
"The wine."
"Not the wine!" Colin gasps, childlike. "Whatever will we do without the wine?"
Colin waits for Bradley to come up with something ridiculous for him to go along with, but Colin's question is met with comfortable silence, and then Colin feels Bradley's fingers stroke his jawline. If Colin were sober, he'd question what Bradley's doing, but he's not. He's very not sober and he's leaning into Bradley's touch.
"It's a busy life in Camelot," Colin sings - well, mumbles - under his breath. "I have to push the pram a lot--"
"Quiet," Bradley shushes him, and Colin obediently falls silent. He watches the silhouette of Bradley's face inch closer and closer, until he feels a pairs of lips on his mouth. The kiss already feels nice and Colin hasn't even opened his mouth properly yet. When he does, the kissing gets even better, and Colin manages to half crawl on top of Bradley before Bradley flips him on to his back, and they spend the next few minutes kissing each other's brains out while they fight who gets to lie on top of who (as if it matters).
As far as drunken kisses go - and they've both had their fair share - this is going surprisingly well. Eventually Colin gives up fighting Bradley, and when Bradley rolls Colin onto his back, Colin stays in that position. He curls his fingers in Bradley's hair and tugs, and Colin half expects Bradley to call him a girl because he just pulled his hair, and this isn't a bloody catfight, this is-- what is this? Whatever this is, it feels right.
Colin's hair-pulling is doing the trick, except for something to do the trick you need to know what you want, and Colin doesn't know what he wants-- no, he does. He does know what he wants - he wants Bradley. He wants Bradley and Bradley wants him otherwise his moaning into Colin's mouth is just for show and that would mean Bradley's a better actor than he claims he is, and Colin tugs Bradley's hair again because he likes the sounds he's making, likes the way they vibrate through him.
They've been kissing ages now, and naturally hands begin to wander. Naturally Bradley's hand wanders, naturally Colin's belt comes undone, and naturally Bradley shoves his hands down Colin's trousers.
And then the power comes back on.
"Jesus," Colin complains, squeezing his eyes shut from the unexpected intensity of light, the abrupt change from darkness to brightness too much to handle at first. It takes a few seconds for his eyes to adjust, and then they focus on what he can see now the electricity is back, which is mainly Bradley staring down at him in shock. Colin stares back at him just as surprised, wondering what Bradley's next move will be, seeing as there's not much Colin can do but lie there panting for air while Bradley has him pinned to the bed.
The kissing has stopped, Bradley's hand has stopped, and Colin's heart might have stopped, too. Everything seems so much more real with the lights back on, like they've been put under a spotlight. Awkwardly, Bradley slides his hand out from under Colin's trousers, and Colin feels a glimmer - no, an ache - of disappointment.
Bradley rolls off Colin and onto his back, and Colin is left staring at the ceiling, listening to the sounds of two people having a conversation in French on the television. Bradley and Colin need to have a conversation (not in French, of course), but Colin can feel the bed lurch, and now there's one less person he's sharing the bedspace with.
"Bradley," Colin whispers, tearing his gaze from the ceiling.
He doesn't see Bradley leave, but he does witness the door knock against the wall in his haste to swing it open and get the hell out of there.
Alone, Colin runs his hands through his hair and sighs.
***
It takes five seconds for Bradley to realize he's just walked out of his own hotel room. Why couldn't they have snogged in Colin's room? Now Bradley is buggered and left with nowhere to go...
He eyes Angel's door, then looks down at his wristwatch, wincing at the time. Maybe it's a little late to bother her. He spares a glance back at his room and knows he can't go back there and face Colin. At least, not yet.
"She won't mind," Bradley says to himself, knocking on Angel's door. He notices Angel has her 'Please Do Not Disturb' on her door handle and reverses so it reads 'Please Make Up The Room'. This isn't the first time he's done this. Never fails to make him laugh, though, and he's laughing manically to himself until Angel opens the door and he shuts up.
"What's so funny?" Angel asks suspiciously in her dressing gown. "It's three in the morning, Bradley, what do you want?"
"Fuck," Bradley says as he pushes past her and invites himself inside.
Angel blinks out into the corridor, then shuts the door behind him. "Please, do come in, Bradley," she says, rolling her eyes at his rudeness. "Has something happened?"
"Fuck," Bradley says again, collapsing face-first into Angel's bed.
"Did something happen with Colin?" Angel asks again.
"Fuck," Bradley groans into Angel's pillow.
"Well, that explains everything," Angel deadpans. "Thank you for clearing things up for me. Look, I know this might be hard for you, since you're a man and everything, but try explaining what happened and your feelings about it using more than a four-letter swear word."
Bradley gives it a shot. "I got really drunk with Colin, and then I kissed him, and then I put my hand down his... fuck."
Well, he tried his best, Angel thinks, watching Bradley try and smother himself with a pillow.
"Bradley," Angel struggles to grab Bradley's attention, because he's still a bit drunk and disorientated. "Bradley, are you listening? I'm going to ask you three questions, okay?" Bradley thinks it sounds like a pub quiz, except without the pub, and he nods miserably. "First question: when you kissed Colin, did he kiss you back?"
Bradley thinks about the moment their tongues met, the way their teeth clashed, and says, "Definitely."
"And when you put your hand on his," Angel blushes, "you know, did you get a... reaction?" she asks delicately.
Bradley doesn't even have to think about that one. "Yeah," he nods.
"So you like Colin, and from what you've told me about his responses, he likes you, which leads me to my final question." Angel smiles sweetly at him. "What is the problem?"
Bradley thinks hard; really, really hard, and comes to a realization. An epiphany, of sorts.
"There isn't one." Bradley bursts into a grin, and if there was still a power cut, his smile would light up the whole room. "There isn't a problem!" He looks at Angel. "Oh you clever hussy." He lands a kiss on Angel's cheek.
"Thanks... I think," Angel laughs slightly. She tilts her head towards the door. "Now get out."
Bradley can't wait to see Colin again, and happily lets himself out. As Angel busies herself tucking herself back into bed, Bradley turns 'Please Make Up The Room' back to 'Please Do Not Disturb' when she isn't looking.
"By the way," Angel says, moments before Bradley closes the door. "Love the moustache."
Bradley shuts the door with a snap, but he can still hear Angel laughing from behind it.
"Oops," Bradley says, as his hand accidentally slips, and the door notice goes back to 'Please Make Up The Room' again.
***
"You're still here," Bradley says with relief, returning to his room and finding Colin sitting on the edge of his bed, sobering up.
"Yeah," Colin responds softly as Bradley comes forward and sits beside him. "Where'd you go?"
"Went to see my guardian Angel," Bradley says. He did just pull a prank - the same prank he's been pulling all month - on his "guardian Angel" which, when you think about it, is a pretty lousy thing to do, but she did poke fun at his moustache.
"Colin," the name rolls off Bradley's tongue with sheer tenderness, and he has Colin's utmost attention. "About what happened earlier... you need to know, I didn't kiss you because I was bored, I kissed you because I like you."
Colin blushes, the same way he blushed when Bradley accused him of groping him in the dark, except this time there's enough light for Bradley to witness him do it.
"And I didn't kiss you back because I was bored," Colin says, eyes bouncing back and forth between Bradley's face and looking shyly down at his lap. "I kissed you back because I like you, too."
"Then there's no problem," Bradley beams. "I was scared because I thought there was a problem, but there isn't a problem, so..." He's run out of things to say. He's actually run out of things to say. "You know... yay?"
Colin doesn't miss an opportunity to laugh at him. "Yay," he imitates Bradley amusedly, while Bradley dies on the spot from embarrassment.
"Where are you going now?" Colin asks as Bradley gets up off the bed and crosses the room.
One flick of a switch later, and Bradley and Colin are surrounded by darkness.
"Great." Colin smiles widely as Bradley's silhouette creeps closer. "Now I can snog you without looking at your stupid face."
"Is that so?" Bradley growls, climbing on top of Colin, and laughter bubbles up in Colin's throat as his back hits the mattress. Colin drags Bradley's head down to kiss him, and Bradley pretends to resist because he's sulking, and there's nothing stupid about his face. The only stupid thing about Bradley's stupid face is the fact that his stupid lips aren't touching Colin's. Until they are.
They continue where they left off before the power came back on, until the room is filled with light not burning from the bulb on the ceiling, but the morning sunshine streaming through the window. The calm is so great, it's as though there was never a storm to begin with.
pairing: Bradley/Colin
words: 3062
rating: PG-13
note: written for bradleycolin RPS challenge #3. I've used the prompts "It was a dark and stormy night..." and also a bit of "Bradley and Colin and their Nintendo DS." Doctor Who fans may recognize the title, but this fic actually has nothing to do with Vashta Neradas.
Hey, Who Turned Out The Lights?
It's a dark and stormy night...
Not that it bothers Bradley and Colin (at least, for now) snuggled up toasty warm in Colin's hotel room. Snuggled up separately, of course, because they're still in denial about their feelings for one another, even though they spend almost every waking moment together on and off camera.
They're sat on the floor by the bottom of Bradley's bed watching a film on the hotel television called La Moustache. In Bradley's opinion, the title of the film doesn't leave much to the imagination. Colin tells him the film is about the lead character's loss of identity. Bradley just thinks it's about some French bloke who shaved off his moustache, and how everything spirals boringly from there.
"Colin, do you think I'd look good with a moustache?"
Bradley hasn't stopped talking since the film started. Colin drags his attention away from the telly, cocking his head thoughtfully as his eyes settle on Bradley's upper lip.
Three minutes later, Bradley boasts a drawn on handlebar moustache, courtesy of Colin.
"No," Colin says in response to Bradley's question three minutes ago, reading the side of the marker pen. "No, you wouldn't look good at all, Bradley." Something catches his eye, causing him to frown. "Oh dear."
"What?" Bradley says, stroking his fake moustache.
"La permanent?" Colin replies in very bad French.
Bradley stops stroking and fixes Colin with a glare. He's going to look like a laughing stock on set tomorrow (no change there, then). "You bastard."
And then the room falls into darkness.
"What the hell?" Bradley says immediately, with a definite flicker of panic in his voice. "What did you do, Morgan?"
"I didn't do anything," Colin defends himself, sounding far calmer than Bradley. Bradley sounds almost scared, and Colin sniggers at him. "You're not afraid of the dark, are you?"
"Don't be stupid," Bradley says, which doesn't really answer Colin's question. "Go find out what's happened." He's perfectly capable of finding out himself, of course, but he's method acting right now, so he orders to Colin to do it.
"Yes, sire," Colin can't help but mutter, getting up off the floor.
Not only have all the lights gone out, but the television has switched off as well. Colin flicks the light switch up and down, but nothing happens. Next, he opens the door leading out to the corridor. Colin's eyes strain into the darkness; the corridor is usually lit up with lights, but now they're all off. Considering how late it is, most people aren't even awake to notice the hotel's unexpected loss of electricity.
"Seems like a power cut," Colin says, listening to the wind whistle and thunder clap outside. He whips around suddenly and bumps into something - Bradley's chest.
"Shit, Bradley," Colin gasps slightly, grabbing Bradley's arm to steady himself. "You gave me a fright."
There's a short pause of silence where the only sound that can be heard is their mingled breathing, somewhat faster than usual, possibly because they're stood very close to one another and Colin hasn't let go of Bradley's arm yet. Then Bradley brings his mouth close to Colin's ear and says: "This is what I was afraid of." And Colin wonders what exactly he means, until Bradley adds: "You groping me in the dark."
Colin blushes, and if it's A Moment, it's broken by Colin releasing Bradley's arm and shoving him in the shoulder with his hand, earning an amused chuckle from the blond.
"I'm much more likely to murder you," Colin says, perhaps a little too cheerfully, but Bradley is used to death threats. He can be quite annoying sometimes. "What now?"
***
They play with their Nintendo DS's in the dark.
Contrary to what Colin told Merlin fans at the London Expo, he doesn't always win. Rather, he rarely wins, because Bradley is a competitive arse. Bradley also cheats. Colin has come close to winning several times in the past half-hour, and then Bradley, the cheater, decides to start play-fighting - mostly rough-tickling - with Colin moments before Princess Peach (there's nothing weird about Colin picking Princess Peach, nothing weird at all) approaches the finish line.
"Yes!" Bradley jumps for joy. "I win again!" He makes the L-sign for loser on his forehead, and Colin feels a lot better because not only do really big losers do that, but Bradley's moustache makes him look like Mario. "Better luck next time, Princess."
"You're a cheat," Colin states, unimpressed by Bradley's gloating when it was an unfair victory.
"Shit," Bradley says all of a sudden, smacking his Nintendo. "I think my battery's just died."
Within seconds, the screen of Colin's Nintendo fades to black. "Mine, too."
The power is still out, and neither of them are sleepy.
"What now?"
***
They decide to make their own home movie.
(Not that kind of home movie. They're still in denial, after all.)
The short film will be a sequel to a previous short film they shot in the caves, wherein Bradley was killed by the red-eyed duck. The plot of the sequel is simple: Colin will seek revenge against the red-eyed duck after the monster brutally murdered his best friend.
"It'll be called: The Red-eyed Duck 2," Bradley decides.
"Gives the story away a bit, don't you think?"
"Well, it worked for bloody La Moustache."
Put a video camera in Bradley's hands and he thinks he's sodding Spielberg.
"So, you'll be in the bath, minding your own business--"
"What?" Colin interrupts. "Why am in the bath? Why can't you be in the bath? Am I naked in this bath?"
(Maybe it is that kind of home movie, after all.)
"Do you usually bathe with clothes on, Colin? I can't be in the bath because I'm dead, obviously."
Looking pretty good for a corpse, Colin thinks morbidly. "Obviously."
Bradley starts again. "You'll be in the bath, minding your own business, and then you hear this chilling noise. Quacking. Then, the red-eyed duck attacks!"
Sadly, the battery of Bradley's video camera dies within the first five seconds of filming. Shooting what Bradley is convinced will be their Oscar-winning movie is left for another day. Colin is relieved, praying Bradley will forget about the damn duck sequel.
"What now?"
***
Getting drunk seems like the most logical next step to curing their boredom. It's any wonder why they didn't think of it in the first place.
It's a bit late to go out and buy alcohol - not to mention the storm - so they knock on Anthony's door instead to see if he's got any. Bradley's reasoning is: what are on-screen fathers for? They're for booze, of course.
Anthony answers the door sleepily, hands them a bottle of red wine, mumbles something about them having fun and the like, and goes back to bed.
An hour later - "Why hasn't the bloody electricity come back yet, Colin? We could be watching French porn right now!" - they lay sprawled on Bradley's bed in the dark, drunk as skunks. A bit of moonlight comes through the window, casting a dim glow on their figures. It's absolutely true what Bradley and the others said on the Merlin commentary about Colin and alcohol: like Merlin, one whiff of a bar maid's apron and Colin does sing like a sailor. He's singing like a sailor this very moment, if a sailor has ever sung Monty Python's Knights of the Round Table.
"We dine well here in Camelot!" He sounds even more Irish and unclear given a few glasses of wine. "We eat ham and jam and spam a lot!" He turns on his side to face Bradley. "Except I don't eat ham because I'm a vegetarian."
"You're so drunk," Bradley sniggers. He's talking about Colin, of course, but the same statement could be applied to himself.
"I'm tipsy," Colin says, tracing the pen moustache on Bradley's upper lip with his finger. At some point, Colin's hand slips and his finger accidentally goes up Bradley's nose, and they burst into collective giggles. "Okay, I'm drunk," Colin accepts.
Bradley looks into the wine bottle - the empty wine bottle - like a telescope, holding it up to his eye. "Bad news, mate," he sighs sadly. "It's all gone."
"What's gone?"
"The wine."
"Not the wine!" Colin gasps, childlike. "Whatever will we do without the wine?"
Colin waits for Bradley to come up with something ridiculous for him to go along with, but Colin's question is met with comfortable silence, and then Colin feels Bradley's fingers stroke his jawline. If Colin were sober, he'd question what Bradley's doing, but he's not. He's very not sober and he's leaning into Bradley's touch.
"It's a busy life in Camelot," Colin sings - well, mumbles - under his breath. "I have to push the pram a lot--"
"Quiet," Bradley shushes him, and Colin obediently falls silent. He watches the silhouette of Bradley's face inch closer and closer, until he feels a pairs of lips on his mouth. The kiss already feels nice and Colin hasn't even opened his mouth properly yet. When he does, the kissing gets even better, and Colin manages to half crawl on top of Bradley before Bradley flips him on to his back, and they spend the next few minutes kissing each other's brains out while they fight who gets to lie on top of who (as if it matters).
As far as drunken kisses go - and they've both had their fair share - this is going surprisingly well. Eventually Colin gives up fighting Bradley, and when Bradley rolls Colin onto his back, Colin stays in that position. He curls his fingers in Bradley's hair and tugs, and Colin half expects Bradley to call him a girl because he just pulled his hair, and this isn't a bloody catfight, this is-- what is this? Whatever this is, it feels right.
Colin's hair-pulling is doing the trick, except for something to do the trick you need to know what you want, and Colin doesn't know what he wants-- no, he does. He does know what he wants - he wants Bradley. He wants Bradley and Bradley wants him otherwise his moaning into Colin's mouth is just for show and that would mean Bradley's a better actor than he claims he is, and Colin tugs Bradley's hair again because he likes the sounds he's making, likes the way they vibrate through him.
They've been kissing ages now, and naturally hands begin to wander. Naturally Bradley's hand wanders, naturally Colin's belt comes undone, and naturally Bradley shoves his hands down Colin's trousers.
And then the power comes back on.
"Jesus," Colin complains, squeezing his eyes shut from the unexpected intensity of light, the abrupt change from darkness to brightness too much to handle at first. It takes a few seconds for his eyes to adjust, and then they focus on what he can see now the electricity is back, which is mainly Bradley staring down at him in shock. Colin stares back at him just as surprised, wondering what Bradley's next move will be, seeing as there's not much Colin can do but lie there panting for air while Bradley has him pinned to the bed.
The kissing has stopped, Bradley's hand has stopped, and Colin's heart might have stopped, too. Everything seems so much more real with the lights back on, like they've been put under a spotlight. Awkwardly, Bradley slides his hand out from under Colin's trousers, and Colin feels a glimmer - no, an ache - of disappointment.
Bradley rolls off Colin and onto his back, and Colin is left staring at the ceiling, listening to the sounds of two people having a conversation in French on the television. Bradley and Colin need to have a conversation (not in French, of course), but Colin can feel the bed lurch, and now there's one less person he's sharing the bedspace with.
"Bradley," Colin whispers, tearing his gaze from the ceiling.
He doesn't see Bradley leave, but he does witness the door knock against the wall in his haste to swing it open and get the hell out of there.
Alone, Colin runs his hands through his hair and sighs.
***
It takes five seconds for Bradley to realize he's just walked out of his own hotel room. Why couldn't they have snogged in Colin's room? Now Bradley is buggered and left with nowhere to go...
He eyes Angel's door, then looks down at his wristwatch, wincing at the time. Maybe it's a little late to bother her. He spares a glance back at his room and knows he can't go back there and face Colin. At least, not yet.
"She won't mind," Bradley says to himself, knocking on Angel's door. He notices Angel has her 'Please Do Not Disturb' on her door handle and reverses so it reads 'Please Make Up The Room'. This isn't the first time he's done this. Never fails to make him laugh, though, and he's laughing manically to himself until Angel opens the door and he shuts up.
"What's so funny?" Angel asks suspiciously in her dressing gown. "It's three in the morning, Bradley, what do you want?"
"Fuck," Bradley says as he pushes past her and invites himself inside.
Angel blinks out into the corridor, then shuts the door behind him. "Please, do come in, Bradley," she says, rolling her eyes at his rudeness. "Has something happened?"
"Fuck," Bradley says again, collapsing face-first into Angel's bed.
"Did something happen with Colin?" Angel asks again.
"Fuck," Bradley groans into Angel's pillow.
"Well, that explains everything," Angel deadpans. "Thank you for clearing things up for me. Look, I know this might be hard for you, since you're a man and everything, but try explaining what happened and your feelings about it using more than a four-letter swear word."
Bradley gives it a shot. "I got really drunk with Colin, and then I kissed him, and then I put my hand down his... fuck."
Well, he tried his best, Angel thinks, watching Bradley try and smother himself with a pillow.
"Bradley," Angel struggles to grab Bradley's attention, because he's still a bit drunk and disorientated. "Bradley, are you listening? I'm going to ask you three questions, okay?" Bradley thinks it sounds like a pub quiz, except without the pub, and he nods miserably. "First question: when you kissed Colin, did he kiss you back?"
Bradley thinks about the moment their tongues met, the way their teeth clashed, and says, "Definitely."
"And when you put your hand on his," Angel blushes, "you know, did you get a... reaction?" she asks delicately.
Bradley doesn't even have to think about that one. "Yeah," he nods.
"So you like Colin, and from what you've told me about his responses, he likes you, which leads me to my final question." Angel smiles sweetly at him. "What is the problem?"
Bradley thinks hard; really, really hard, and comes to a realization. An epiphany, of sorts.
"There isn't one." Bradley bursts into a grin, and if there was still a power cut, his smile would light up the whole room. "There isn't a problem!" He looks at Angel. "Oh you clever hussy." He lands a kiss on Angel's cheek.
"Thanks... I think," Angel laughs slightly. She tilts her head towards the door. "Now get out."
Bradley can't wait to see Colin again, and happily lets himself out. As Angel busies herself tucking herself back into bed, Bradley turns 'Please Make Up The Room' back to 'Please Do Not Disturb' when she isn't looking.
"By the way," Angel says, moments before Bradley closes the door. "Love the moustache."
Bradley shuts the door with a snap, but he can still hear Angel laughing from behind it.
"Oops," Bradley says, as his hand accidentally slips, and the door notice goes back to 'Please Make Up The Room' again.
***
"You're still here," Bradley says with relief, returning to his room and finding Colin sitting on the edge of his bed, sobering up.
"Yeah," Colin responds softly as Bradley comes forward and sits beside him. "Where'd you go?"
"Went to see my guardian Angel," Bradley says. He did just pull a prank - the same prank he's been pulling all month - on his "guardian Angel" which, when you think about it, is a pretty lousy thing to do, but she did poke fun at his moustache.
"Colin," the name rolls off Bradley's tongue with sheer tenderness, and he has Colin's utmost attention. "About what happened earlier... you need to know, I didn't kiss you because I was bored, I kissed you because I like you."
Colin blushes, the same way he blushed when Bradley accused him of groping him in the dark, except this time there's enough light for Bradley to witness him do it.
"And I didn't kiss you back because I was bored," Colin says, eyes bouncing back and forth between Bradley's face and looking shyly down at his lap. "I kissed you back because I like you, too."
"Then there's no problem," Bradley beams. "I was scared because I thought there was a problem, but there isn't a problem, so..." He's run out of things to say. He's actually run out of things to say. "You know... yay?"
Colin doesn't miss an opportunity to laugh at him. "Yay," he imitates Bradley amusedly, while Bradley dies on the spot from embarrassment.
"Where are you going now?" Colin asks as Bradley gets up off the bed and crosses the room.
One flick of a switch later, and Bradley and Colin are surrounded by darkness.
"Great." Colin smiles widely as Bradley's silhouette creeps closer. "Now I can snog you without looking at your stupid face."
"Is that so?" Bradley growls, climbing on top of Colin, and laughter bubbles up in Colin's throat as his back hits the mattress. Colin drags Bradley's head down to kiss him, and Bradley pretends to resist because he's sulking, and there's nothing stupid about his face. The only stupid thing about Bradley's stupid face is the fact that his stupid lips aren't touching Colin's. Until they are.
They continue where they left off before the power came back on, until the room is filled with light not burning from the bulb on the ceiling, but the morning sunshine streaming through the window. The calm is so great, it's as though there was never a storm to begin with.