Fic: And Nobody Wears A Crown [Merlin RPS]
Title: And Nobody Wears A Crown
Author: coffeejunkii
Pairing: Colin Morgan/Bradley James
Rating: NC-17
Warning/Spoilers: none
Word count: ~12k
Summary: A story about a summer in France, in which Bradley finds himself intrigued by Irish names, Colin reads a lot, Angel and Katie are their usual innocent selves, and a few moments change everything.
Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. Characters do resemble actual persons, however.
Notes: Many thanks to everyone who has cheered me on, betaed, britpicked, and researched: aelora, bewarethesmirk, lost2mercy, and msdaccxx. The title is a line from the hidden track at the end of Kate Nash's "Merry Happy."
~***~
Bradley let the Wimbledon commentary wash over him. Fucking Andy Murray lost in the quarterfinals. Never mind that Nadal had been the clear favourite for the match. He nudged Colin's ankle with his foot. He needed distraction from Murray's complete incompetency. "So, who was your first shag, then?"
Colin looked up from the book he was reading. He didn't answer right away, apparently weighing Bradley's question for a moment. With a shrug of his shoulder, he replied, "Fiachra. And I was seventeen, because you were going to ask that next."
Bradley closed the top of his laptop. It dutifully went to sleep, shutting off the merciless live stream. "You know me so well. Was it good?"
"Well. Not bad enough not to have another go the next day." Colin's eyes were back on his novel.
Bradley made affirmative noises in response.
Colin marked his page. "What about you?"
"Bloody horrible. Had no sodding clue what I was doing. I'm just glad she didn't kick me out of the bed." Thinking back on it, he really didn't know why Anna had even talked to him after that. Unwilling to endure a more thorough questioning of events that better stayed deeply buried in his memories, he snagged Colin's book. "Let's see what's got you so intrigued. Marquez again?"
"Hey! Fuck sake! Give me that!" Colin tried to snatch the book back, but Bradley had already rolled off the bed, holding the novel above his head.
Colin lunged after him, with little success. The ensuing tussle continued for some time, and only came to an end when Angel stuck her head in the door-not even taking time to properly knock-asking if they wanted to go down to the bistro two streets over. Angel had enough tact not to comment on the headlock Bradley had on Colin and told them to be downstairs in five minutes.
Colin wiggled out from under Bradley's arm and finally got a hold of Love in the Time of Cholera. "We'll be there," he said to Angel, who left with a shake of her head and a muttered, "Boys!"
"That's actually not half bad," Bradley remarked with a nod at the book.
"You've read it?"
"No need to sound so surprised. I do read. On occasion." Bradley righted his T-shirt, which had ridden up his chest during their scuffle.
"I've never seen you with any written words that aren't a script."
"Maybe I prefer to read in private." Which was the truth; in contrast to Colin, who carried whatever book he was reading around on set at all times, Bradley didn't like the idea of other people watching him while he read.
Colin looked intrigued in a way he usually reserved for Tony's stories about London theatre in the seventies. An endless amount of questions were sure to follow, which Bradley aimed to avoid by heading for the door. "C'mon, let's go. I don't need to have Katie whinging at me again for not being on time."
Colin nodded, but the wheels had clearly been set in motion. Brilliant. He probably wouldn't stop until he'd heard about every book Bradley had ever read. Perhaps he'd finally be satisfied after hearing about the long and painful encounter with Encore Tricolore 2. Maybe.
~***~
Colin was trying to get all the crumbs out of Merlin's blasted scarf-why did digestives have to be so crumbly, anyway?-when he saw Bradley storming towards the catering truck. Heading straight towards him.
"You!" Bradley pointed at Colin. "I need to talk to you." He rounded the truck, apparently expecting Colin to follow.
"Yes?"
Bradley whirled around. "Fiachra is a bloke's name! Katie told me."
Colin laughed. That hadn't taken long at all. "So?"
"Slightly important information you skipped over there!" Bradley looked a little flushed, probably from rushing over here right after having received that eye-opening bit of news from Katie.
"Well, you didn't ask if it was a fella or a girl."
"But! It was implied that-I just didn't expect-your first shag was a bloke?!"
Colin leaned against the side of the truck, enjoying this far too much. "Oh, sorry, mind-reading is not among my skills."
Bradley tugged on the chain mail he was wearing. "You really could have clarified that."
"Why? Does it bother you?" Colin didn't think it would, but if it did, it would be better to get that out into the open immediately.
Bradley looked perplexed. "Bother? No! It's just-just..." His hands grasped at air as if they might pluck the lacking words out of the sky.
Before Colin could dig deeper into Bradley's curious inability to form coherent speech, Mary was calling them back to the set.
~***~
Bradley slumped against the stone wall next to Colin, who was fumbling with his iPod. They'd been doing the same scene all day, and it took forever to arrange all the extras between takes. Everyone's patience was running out and Bradley predicted they were about ten minutes away from a spectacular meltdown on the director's part. Naturally, Colin looked as calm as ever, which was unacceptable.
"Braised Lamb again?" Bradley asked, trying to peek at the iPod screen.
"Huh?" Colin slipped his massive headphones off his head, leaving them to frame his neck.
"I asked if you were listening to Braised Lamb again." Bradley took care to enunciate every word clearly.
"It's Frightened Rabbit, which I've told you at least twenty times already."
A first sign of possible irritation? Bradley pressed on. "It's hard to keep all that wailing separate."
"They're an excellent band from Scotland, I'll have you know." Colin's thumb rubbed and tapped on the iPod.
"There was this bloke from Scotland on my football team. Ian." Bradley hadn't thought of him in years.
Colin sent him a confused look. "Is it 'The Life of Bradley James' story time again?"
Bradley smacked his arm. "Wanker. See if I tell you anything ever again."
"Oh, come off it. So now. Ian." Colin even shut off his iPod.
That seemed like a whole lot of attention on something Bradley had meant to casually slip into a conversation when Colin was only half-listening. "We, uh, might have mucked about a few times."
Colin's eyes widened. "I don't believe you! You've been giving me a hard time for a week about Fiachra, and now you're telling me you've had a go with your football mates?" His voice rose enough to make one of the extras look over at them.
"Would you shush?" Bradley shoved his shoulder for emphasis. "Mate. Singular. Not mates. S’not like we’re talking bloody rugby, after all."
"Still! Especially after your 'oh, you could have clarified that, Colin' bit."
Bradley scratched a few splatters of dirt off Arthur's sword. "Well, now you know." He snuck a glance at Colin, who still looked dumbfounded. "It was one of those 'one thing leads to another' things."
"Is that a euphemism for 'we were so pissed off our arses that we had no idea what we were doing'?"
"No."
Colin gave him a disbelieving look.
"It wasn't!" Bloody hell, how long could it take to arrange twenty-five people around a table?
"Was he a good shag?"
In for a penny, in for a pound. "Technically, we didn't shag."
Colin frowned. "Technically? Either you did or you didn't. Rather straightforward, the whole thing."
Bradley craned his neck. There had to be someone looking for them to call them for their next take. But none of the plucky French PAs were in sight. "We-look, I'm far too sober to discuss this."
"I hear Katie and Angel are away off shopping for after we wrap today."
"When I said I was too sober, that wasn't a veiled invitation to get me hammered," Bradley protested.
Colin looked disappointed.
"However, if you felt inclined to restock our alcohol supply, I wouldn't object."
With a far too calculating smile, Colin replied, "I'll come round after dinner."
Bradley let his head fall back against the wall. He was doomed.
~***~
"Christ, this is vile." Bradley wrinkled his nose after taking a first sip of the drink Colin had made for him. "What the fuck is in this?"
Colin had to admit that it was a rather strange combination of flavours, but it wasn't vile. "Vodka, and.." He turned the bottle around to read the label. "Ginger Ale."
"You bought Ginger Ale as mixer? Are you out of your mind?"
"They only had Fanta, Coke, and this. Fanta's too sweet, and Coke is boring. So I thought we'd try something French."
Bradley pushed away his glass. "It's fucking rank. Why didn't you ring me from the shop? Or did you lose your mobile again?"
Colin tried the concoction again. Okay, perhaps it was vile. "Because! How could I know this was Ginger Ale? And tastes like shit?"
Bradley got off the bed and pulled on his trainers. "Because, Mr Je-parle-le-francais-perfectly, I'd have expected you to read the label before buying it! I'm going over to Katie's. I think she nicked a bottle of Coke from catering yesterday."
Colin stretched out on Bradley's bed. "Suit yourself." Secretly he was glad that he didn't have to continue to drink something that smelled like windshield fluid.
~***~
"Now explain this whole 'technically we didn't shag' business with your footie mate," Colin said after they'd each had a hefty vodka and Coke. A pleasant buzz was starting to spread through his body and he felt ready to extract a few hopefully filthy stories from Bradley's mind.
"Name's Ian." Bradley sat on the opposite end of the bed, a few pillows propped up against the brass bars.
"Okay, Ian."
Bradley drained the rest of his drink and held his glass out for more. "It was-almost like a dare. Like, how far are we going to go with this? We'd got off a few times before, and a snog here and there, which, again, not that unusual between team mates. So I thought, why the fuck not. I was curious."
Colin made agreeing noises while mixing another vodka and Coke. Heavy on the vodka, obviously. He handed it to Bradley and topped up his own glass.
Bradley gulped down a third of his drink before setting it down next to the bed.
There was a difference between drinking for courage and out of desperation, and Colin thought Bradley was veering rather close to the latter. "You don't need to tell me." It was one thing to get trashed and have a laugh about past flings, but quite another to reveal things in an drink-induced haze that you couldn't take back in the morning.
Bradley pointed at Colin. "Oh, you asked, and I'm telling you. Sordid details and all."
Colin leaned forward, elbows on his knees. "I didn't exactly ask."
"Oh no?" Bradley cleared his throat and, in an imitation of Colin's accent that wasn't half-bad, went on, "'Technically? Either you did or you didn't.' Your words."
"Well, you were confusing. As per usual."
"I'm not confusing."
Colin decided that Bradley was fine after all. "Okay, you are not confusing. Carry on."
"All right. So I was curious, and he was curious. It all went well at first, and then it-didn't work."
"Didn't work?" Colin repeated slowly.
Bradley studied the floral pattern on his sheets. "Yeah."
"I'm not following."
Bradley glanced at him. "Look, we wanted a shag. But we didn't really manage to, you know..." He was doing that thing with his hands again where he thought some waving around would probably magically convey the lacking words.
"Sorry, I don't speak Bradley's personal sign language," Colin teased.
"God, Colin, you can be really thick sometimes. Surely even you can imagine what it might mean if two blokes intend to shag and it doesn't work out!" Bradley sounded annoyed.
Maybe it was time to retreat from this conversation. Colin wished he'd known Bradley for longer than a few months; was his temper a sign of warning, a signal to back off, or was it okay to push him a bit more? Only one way to find out.
"What, d'you mean you couldn't get it up?" Colin asked, sticking to good-natured teasing.
"Christ. No, that's bloody not what I meant." Bradley stumbled off the bed, nearly knocking over the glass beside it. He kept talking as he walked over to the balcony doors. "Want me to spell it out? Fine. He couldn't get inside me. There. Happy now?" He tore open one of the doors. A burst of cool air streamed into the room. Leaning against the frame, Bradley added, "Fucking embarrassing, that was."
Shit. Shitshitshit. Colin had not expected that. Fuck, he really had no idea about the best way to proceed with Bradley now. He poured a shot of vodka into an empty glass and walked over to Bradley. He handed over the shot, which Bradley downed without hesitation. Colin looked out over the rooftops of Villers-Cotterêts, inky shadows against a dark sky.
When he felt Bradley relax against the door, he figured it would be safe enough to introduce words into the silence again. If Bradley had wanted to kick him out so he could be alone, he'd have already done so. "Did you trust him?" Colin asked quietly.
"What's that got to do with it?" Bradley murmured.
"Everything?"
Bradley looked at him in confusion.
Colin turned towards him, trying to keep his posture as open as possible. He'd a feeling that Bradley would continue to talk to him, but a misplaced word or gesture might make him bolt. "For the first time, at least. Maybe that was the problem."
"Maybe. He always had my back on the pitch, though. That should mean I trust him, doesn't it?"
Colin couldn't stop himself from saying, "Well, clearly, when he had you on your back-"
"Hey now. Who says I was on my back?"
That barely-there smile was reassuring. They were making their way back to much safer conversational territory. Colin turned further, his back against the bar separating the balcony doors. His elbow nearly brushed against Bradley's arm. He took it as a good sign that Bradley didn't move away. "Okay, so on your knees. Or whatever. Doesn't really matter. It was probably a tense situation even if you didn't think it was."
Bradley studied him. "You sound like you've got plenty of experience in that area."
"Maybe I do."
Bradley's eyebrows went up a fraction. "How many blokes have you shagged, exactly?"
Colin smiled. "A few." Maybe Bradley would feel better if he heard about some of his less-than-successful past encounters.
"You only shag blokes, then?" Bradley tried to sound casual, but it was easy to tell he was rather keen on the answer.
Colin held his gaze. "No. I'm open-minded."
"That's one way of putting it." Bradley looked out onto the balcony again.
"After Ian, you never thought about giving it another go? With someone else?"
Bradley stuffed his hands into the pockets of his shorts. "No. That was the most embarrassing experience of my life. Killed any curiosity I had."
Colin studied Bradley's profile. "That's too bad," he replied, not quite aware he'd said the words out loud.
Bradley studiously kept looking out over Villers-Cotterêts. "What's that supposed to mean?"
Colin knew that Bradley was aware he was being watched. "That you're missing out on some bloody fantastic sex."
Despite the low light in the room, it was easy to make out the flush on Bradley's cheeks. "If you say so."
"I do say so." Colin held his breath. In any other situation, Colin would have thought they were both testing the waters to see where this might possibly lead, but the last thing he wanted was to make Bradley feel uncomfortable again. He held himself still, waiting for a cue.
Bradley shifted from one foot to another. It was enough of a change in position for their shoulders to come to rest against one another. Colin didn't move away.
"Thanks," Bradley said.
"For?"
"For not giving me shit over what I told you."
Colin wanted to retort that he wouldn't do that, but considering most of their conversations so far had consisted of either planning pranks or trading insults, maybe Bradley hadn't expected anything different. "I wouldn't do that over something that's happened to me as well."
"It has?" Bradley sounded surprised.
"Sure. That's why I asked you if you trusted him. Because, it's a really a bit of a strange thing you're doing there, isn't it? Especially if you've never done it before. You've no idea how it's supposed to go or feel or what have you. It's this odd situation and if you're not entirely sure the other person won't cock it up-no pun intended-and, I'm rambling, amn’t I?" Colin decided he'd finally arrived at the "spectacularly drunk" stage.
Bradley smiled at him. "It's fine."
Colin smiled back, feeling like a stupid sap for the tingling that rushed through him.
They lapsed into silence again, each looking around the room and somewhat pointedly not at one another. Neither of them moved away, however.
Eventually, Bradley shuffled away a bit while rubbing a hand over his face. "When are we getting picked up again tomorrow?"
"Um, seven, I think?"
Bradley walked over to the bed and picked up his mobile. "Ah, fuck, it's nearly three already." He let himself fall back onto the mattress. "I'm going to have a blinding headache. I can feel it brewing."
"I've some aspirin in my room. I'll bring it tomorrow morning, aye?" Colin hesitated by the bed for a moment before moving towards the door. "You might want to have some water before you go to sleep."
"Thanks, mum, I think I will."
"Arse." They were all right, Colin assured himself; there'd been a moment earlier when things could have become rather awkward, and he was relieved they'd managed to avoid that.
"Night," Bradley mumbled. He was still clutching his mobile and both of his feet were hanging off the bed, but Colin didn't think that could prevent him from being asleep within the next minute.
"Good night," he replied softly and left.
~***~
Colin's aspirin turned out to be a godsend. Otherwise, Bradley might never have survived the drive to the set. Why had he never noticed all these bumps in the road before? Even the music in the car was decent this morning. Thank god Katie had a later start or he'd be subjected to Kate Nash. Again. He'd seen Colin hook up his iPod to the car stereo when he arrived and braced himself for the worst, but whatever was playing was actually quite pleasant. Well, as pleasant as an accompaniment to a thousand little blacksmiths making swords in his head could be.
"Enjoying yourself?" Colin asked.
Bradley hoped that simply turning his head into the direction of Colin's voice would be enough of a prompt for elaborating on this 'enjoyment.' Didn't Colin see that he was dying over here?
"You were bobbing along to the music." Colin had the audacity to sound cheerful, the utter bastard.
"I wasn't." Was he? It was entirely possible that he was twitching involuntarily.
"You were."
Bradley ignored him for half a song. "What are we listening to?"
"The Divine Comedy. The best-of, to be specific."
"God, can you ever listen to something that doesn't have a weird name?" Bright light was shining into Bradley's eyes despite his sunglasses. He let his head loll against the back of the seat in the hope of finding some shade.
"And Coldplay isn't a weird name."
Bradley pushed his hand under his glasses, rubbing his eyes and temples. "At least it's not named after a book everyone only pretends to have read. Or after some animal. And why the fuck are you so bloody awake? You had as little sleep as me."
"Necked about a litre of water after I got back to my room. Besides, we didn't really drink that much."
Bradley groaned. Apparently, he should have listened to Colin's advice. He was never drinking with Colin again. He snorted. Right. Like that’s a resolution he could stick to. "Have we any scenes together today?"
Rustling noises ensued, which probably meant that Colin was flipping through the call sheet. "Uh, no. I have a scene with Angel and then two with Richard. That's it. You've a few with Santiago."
Bradley straightened. "Santiago? What's he doing here again?"
"They wanted him to come in and shoot a few more scenes. Apparently he made quite an impression on Johnny in the dailies. Bloody loved him."
Something niggled at the back of Bradley's mind. "Yeah. That-right. God, they'll have us do twenty-five takes of the same fight." His desire to die, or at least crawl under a rock, was suddenly reinforced. All the bouncing and running around would make his head explode.
"At least he's not a total minger."
"Who, Santiago?"
Colin shrugged. "Well, yeah. He's pretty fit."
Bradley wished he could say that he hadn't noticed, but that would have been a blatant lie. "That he is."
Colin smirked at him.
"What?"
"Nothing."
"Seriously, what?"
"Nothing." Colin's grin widened as he stared out the window.
Bradley ignored him for the rest of the drive.
~***~
Colin was on his way back from lunch when he spotted Bradley hunched over on a chair next to where they were filming another tournament scene. "Hey."
Bradley squinted up at him. "Hey."
"You look like shit." Colin sat down in the chair next to him.
"Oh, thanks."
"Didn't see you over at catering." Dust puffed up in small clouds when Colin dragged his shoes through the dirt.
"Didn't feel like throwing up all over Santiago. Costume's been giving me enough grief already. 'Don't lean against that dirty fence, Bradley!'. Inhuman pricks, the lot of them." Bradley's shoulders hunched even more than before. He rubbed the back of his hand over his eyes, but the motion didn't remove the fatigue lining them.
Without thinking about it, Colin brought his fingers up to Bradley's nape. He knew Bradley was in even worse shape than he was letting on, and this might help. For a brief moment, Bradley tensed, and Colin stilled, ready to let his hand slip away. But Bradley's head dropped forward, and Colin's fingertips felt their way up tight tendons, pressing lightly at first. Upon hearing affirmative noises, he pressed down with more force. His thumb sought the juncture of neck and shoulder, rubbing circles there until he could feel the knots loosen. Contented humming provided guidance, and soon Colin found himself kneading tight muscles with his entire hand. When most of the tension had disappeared, he couldn't resist seeking out the hair curling around the collar of the bright red jacket. The tips were damp from earlier exertions and twisted easily around his fingers. After one last tousle, he withdrew his hand.
"Thanks," Bradley mumbled.
"Welcome. Give me a shout later?"
Bradley rolled his head back and forth, probably working out some remaining kinks. "Might just go to bed."
Colin stood up. "Text me, then." He half-expected another 'mum'-comment from Bradley, but he just waved him off. Colin decided that meant he'd get a text later.
Halfway across the drawbridge, he looked back. Bradley had slung Arthur's sword over his shoulder and was jogging back over to where Santiago was talking to Ed. If anyone could tell Bradley was hung over, Colin would have been surprised. When Bradley smiled at something Santiago said-the kind of wide smile that echoed in his eyes-the tingling from the previous night was back, and Colin wondered if maybe, just maybe, he could convince Bradley to let that take them somewhere.
~***~
Bradley stumbled towards his room, half-asleep on his feet after an unexpected meeting about script changes that affected the next day's shooting schedule. He'd meant to be back at the hotel three hours prior, thought he might watch an episode of Heroes to unwind, and then go to bed early. Now it was already past eleven and he faced another night of too little sleep. Bradley had half a mind to knock on Colin's door to complain about the long meeting, but he was probably asleep by now.
The white envelope taped to his door made him pause. It said Bradley in Colin's handwriting. Bradley unlocked his door and kicked it shut with one foot, all the while shaking the envelope to get a clue about its contents. Something was rattling around in it.
It turned out to be a memory stick with mp3s on it. The Divine Comedy-A Secret History, it said on the note Colin had included. And, We listened to it this morning. Thought you might want a copy.
Bradley left the music on even after he'd turned off the light. A phantom touch of fingers swept over his nape and into his hair. He wondered what they might feel like if they roamed farther, unwinding muscles and sinews on their way. His stomach tightened, and if he'd been more awake, he might have been more concerned about how thoroughly Colin had imprinted himself on Bradley's life. But floating between wakefulness and sleep, only the prospect of seeing Colin the next day, and the day after, and the day after that, mattered.
~***~
Filming had been cancelled for the second day in a row due to torrential rain. They settled in Colin's room-he'd got the bigger bed, after all, and considering that was all there was to sit on, it made the decisive difference-and were watching Buffy. Bradley'd been talking his ear off about it ever since they met, with the success that Colin had finally agreed to be introduced to the allegedly best TV show ever made.
"And, see now, Dawn, she wasn't actually there before. She just appeared, but no one notices. They think she's always been Buffy's sister." Bradley sounded awed. "Think you've got it so far?"
Colin nodded dutifully.
"Season Five is when Buffy starts to get really good, so we'll start there. You can always ask me if there's something that's unclear."
"Will do." Colin settled himself back against the pillows and hoped he wouldn't fall asleep. The constant drum of rain against the windows had kept him in a daze all day.
As the episode progressed, Colin had to admit that it was funny to see Anthony as a slightly stuffy ex-librarian and magic shop owner. He could even picture how this might be an interesting show to watch, but he hadn't watched much TV in the past few years, and wasn’t too pushed about it overall. Which was somewhat ironic, considering.
Colin became so absorbed in trying to process Anthony's acting choices and in figuring out the blocking in several scenes that he only noticed Bradley'd fallen asleep when the end credits came on. He gently jabbed his elbow into Bradley's side.
Startled, Bradley nearly fell off the bed. Colin really didn't want to laugh at that, but he couldn't help himself.
"Piss off," Bradley admonished, voice rough with sleep.
"How could you fall asleep during the best TV show in the world? I'm telling Anthony," Colin managed between laughs.
"It's the fucking rain." Bradley leaned over the side of the bed, probably in search of his mobile, which he'd tossed over that way earlier. "And you will not breathe a word to Tony about this. Besides, I've seen this episode at least three times before."
Muscles played under Bradley's worn grey T-shirt as he moved. Colin tracked their contraction and expansion with his eyes, and wondered what the movement might feel under the palm of his hand.
"What d'you think of the episode?" Bradley asked after he'd retrieved his mobile. His thumb flew over the keys.
"Not bad."
Bradley briefly looked up at him. "Told you. Buffy is genius."
"Absolutely." Colin picked up the video camera from the bedside table and switched it on.
It took Bradley about twenty seconds to realise he was being taped. "Oh, c'mon, not now. We're hardly doing something of interest, Colin."
"Oh, I don't know, I'm sure some people will be interested in seeing Bradley James in bed."
"In your bed, you mean."
Colin burst out laughing.
"Ah, fuck, turn that off, will you? Clearly I'm not fit for possible public consumption today." Bradley pushed the camera away from his face.
"I think you should leave it up to the adoring public to decide how fit you are." It was kind of difficult to keep the camera steady while laughing, Colin discovered.
Bradley took another swipe at the camera, but Colin grasped his wrist and pinned it to the bed. As Bradley's mobile was still in his other hand, he had to endure more filming. "Dear Merlin fans, may I present Bradley James in his natural habitat." He slowly panned over the laptop at the foot of the bed, a half-eaten packet of Hobnobs, the Buffy DVD set, and Bradley's naked feet.
"The rain's gone to your head. Barking mad, you are." Bradley submitted the keys on his mobile to another assault of rapid texting.
Colin zoomed in on Bradley's face. There was a frown of concentration forming between his brows, nearly obscured by a fringe that was a tad too long and threatened to fall into his eyes. Bradley had taken to continuously sweeping the offending strands away from his forehead, reaching a point where Jeremy had interrupted a scene because 'Arthur was fussing with his hair like an insecure thirteen year-old girl and this was not a direction in which they saw the crown prince heading, so would he please get a fucking haircut'. Bradley had been brooding for the rest of that day. He still hadn't got a haircut a week later, out of sheer stubbornness, Colin suspected.
"I know exactly what you're doing," Bradley said without taking his eyes off the mobile display. "I have excellent peripheral vision."
"Anything else you'd like to share?"
Bradley sighed. "Turn it off, will you?"
It was an earnest request. Colin put the camera aside and flopped onto his back. He glanced at City of Night on the bedside table and wondered if he could sneak in a few pages while Bradley was texting his life story to god-knew-who. Probably Angel. Right on cue, the mobile beeped, indicating the arrival of a new message.
"Katie's found out that Hancock's playing in a town twenty miles from here. In English, if you please. Fancy going?" Bradley asked.
Colin shrugged. "Aye, grand." Hancock wouldn't have been his first choice, but he was bored.
Bradley was bending over the side of the bed again in a quest for his socks or shoes or whatever, and this time, Colin couldn't resist reaching out.
"What are you doing?" Bradley asked while rooting around in the mess that covered the floor.
"I'm touching your back," Colin murmured, enthralled with the dips and rises under his fingers.
Bradley stood up and turned around to face Colin. "You. Are. Mad."
His eyes told another story entirely. Colin ignored him, smiling to himself as he tightened the laces on his trainers.
~***~
Bradley never discovered what Hancock was about. He tried to focus on Will Smith's superhero problems, but all his mind cared to explore was the memory of how solid Colin's hand had felt on his back.
~***~
The following week was hell.
All in all, they had lost three days to rain and hail, and were trying to make up for it as quickly as possible. Bradley barely saw Colin during the day, and at night, all of them headed straight to bed after arriving back at the hotel, exhausted from a long day of shooting and aware of more long days ahead. A few times, Bradley had managed to sneak into one of Colin's scenes, watching him from behind rows of equipment and extras. They'd exchanged a few words while eating hasty lunches and dinners, but it seemed as if they hadn't actually talked in ages.
At least they had Bastille Day off. Bradley went down to Art et Pizza with Colin, Katie, and Tony. During dinner, he traded amused glances with Katie about the salad Colin devoured. There was talk of going to a bar afterwards, but when Colin announced that he was knackered and would return to the hotel, Bradley decided to forgo alcohol in favour of Colin-time. They'd picked up a few bottles of beer on their way back, which they drank on the balcony behind their rooms.
Although conversations with Colin had been what Bradley had missed most the past week, they didn't talk very much. Colin shared one story about Glasgow involving a bat, an umbrella, and three cartons of milk, but other than that, they were quiet.
As the sun dipped behind the horizon and the breeze picked up, Bradley felt as if he was slowly uncurling, one twist undoing itself with each breath, the wooden floor warm underneath his feet and Colin a steadying presence at his side.
~***~
Colin had gone back to his room to pick up his black hoodie. When he stepped back onto the balcony, he stopped, taking in the way Bradley's hip jutted out as he was leaning forward over the wooden railing, elbows propped up on it and beer bottle dangling from his fingers.
A wave of want swept over him. It had been threatening to crest a few times, but Colin had pushed it down, uncertain about the time or place or Bradley's state of mind. But he was certain now.
A beam creaked under his shoes as he walked over to Bradley, who threw a glance and a thoughtful smile over his shoulder before turning back around. Colin stopped by his side, standing closer than he usually would, and took the beer bottle out of Bradley's hand. He carefully set the bottle down on the planks. Maybe it was the way Colin looked at him, but Bradley fell silent after a small noise of protest.
With one hand on Bradley's hip, Colin turned him around and nudged him back against the wooden railing. There would have been enough time for Bradley to speak up or move away, but he only gazed back at Colin, looking caught between wanting to brace himself and wanting to shout, finally.
It was only a brush of lips at first. Colin wanted to be sure that he hadn't mistaken the ease and comfort in the words, and, increasingly, in the touches between them. In the span of a breath, Bradley kissed him back. Colin sighed into his mouth, relief mingling with need. His hands curled more firmly around Bradley's hips, seeking out the bones that stood out so enticingly. Bradley knew what to do with his tongue, and teeth, and hands; with what little coherence Colin had left, he mapped out the possibilities of where else to apply these skills.
When the air had been kissed out of their lungs, they moved on to sensitive spots behind ears, near jaws, and across necks. Bradley in particular was insistent on pushing a hand under the edge of Colin's hoodie to lick along the exposed skin across his collar bones. Colin's hand twisted into Bradley's hair lest he stop. His head fall back, and he found himself looking up at the night sky. They must have switched places unbeknown to him. The wood against his back was digging into his skin, but it was only a passing flare of pain, blanketed by the pleasure rushing through him, head to toe and back again.
"So," Colin whispered into Bradley's ear, "think that the curiosity might come back?"
Bradley looked up at him, face flushed and hair disheveled. "Oh, it's back all right."
He kissed Colin again, pressing as close as possible to seek and push and take until the stars across the sky blurred into flashes behind Colin's eyelids.
Part 2
.
Author: coffeejunkii
Pairing: Colin Morgan/Bradley James
Rating: NC-17
Warning/Spoilers: none
Word count: ~12k
Summary: A story about a summer in France, in which Bradley finds himself intrigued by Irish names, Colin reads a lot, Angel and Katie are their usual innocent selves, and a few moments change everything.
Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. Characters do resemble actual persons, however.
Notes: Many thanks to everyone who has cheered me on, betaed, britpicked, and researched: aelora, bewarethesmirk, lost2mercy, and msdaccxx. The title is a line from the hidden track at the end of Kate Nash's "Merry Happy."
~***~
Bradley let the Wimbledon commentary wash over him. Fucking Andy Murray lost in the quarterfinals. Never mind that Nadal had been the clear favourite for the match. He nudged Colin's ankle with his foot. He needed distraction from Murray's complete incompetency. "So, who was your first shag, then?"
Colin looked up from the book he was reading. He didn't answer right away, apparently weighing Bradley's question for a moment. With a shrug of his shoulder, he replied, "Fiachra. And I was seventeen, because you were going to ask that next."
Bradley closed the top of his laptop. It dutifully went to sleep, shutting off the merciless live stream. "You know me so well. Was it good?"
"Well. Not bad enough not to have another go the next day." Colin's eyes were back on his novel.
Bradley made affirmative noises in response.
Colin marked his page. "What about you?"
"Bloody horrible. Had no sodding clue what I was doing. I'm just glad she didn't kick me out of the bed." Thinking back on it, he really didn't know why Anna had even talked to him after that. Unwilling to endure a more thorough questioning of events that better stayed deeply buried in his memories, he snagged Colin's book. "Let's see what's got you so intrigued. Marquez again?"
"Hey! Fuck sake! Give me that!" Colin tried to snatch the book back, but Bradley had already rolled off the bed, holding the novel above his head.
Colin lunged after him, with little success. The ensuing tussle continued for some time, and only came to an end when Angel stuck her head in the door-not even taking time to properly knock-asking if they wanted to go down to the bistro two streets over. Angel had enough tact not to comment on the headlock Bradley had on Colin and told them to be downstairs in five minutes.
Colin wiggled out from under Bradley's arm and finally got a hold of Love in the Time of Cholera. "We'll be there," he said to Angel, who left with a shake of her head and a muttered, "Boys!"
"That's actually not half bad," Bradley remarked with a nod at the book.
"You've read it?"
"No need to sound so surprised. I do read. On occasion." Bradley righted his T-shirt, which had ridden up his chest during their scuffle.
"I've never seen you with any written words that aren't a script."
"Maybe I prefer to read in private." Which was the truth; in contrast to Colin, who carried whatever book he was reading around on set at all times, Bradley didn't like the idea of other people watching him while he read.
Colin looked intrigued in a way he usually reserved for Tony's stories about London theatre in the seventies. An endless amount of questions were sure to follow, which Bradley aimed to avoid by heading for the door. "C'mon, let's go. I don't need to have Katie whinging at me again for not being on time."
Colin nodded, but the wheels had clearly been set in motion. Brilliant. He probably wouldn't stop until he'd heard about every book Bradley had ever read. Perhaps he'd finally be satisfied after hearing about the long and painful encounter with Encore Tricolore 2. Maybe.
~***~
Colin was trying to get all the crumbs out of Merlin's blasted scarf-why did digestives have to be so crumbly, anyway?-when he saw Bradley storming towards the catering truck. Heading straight towards him.
"You!" Bradley pointed at Colin. "I need to talk to you." He rounded the truck, apparently expecting Colin to follow.
"Yes?"
Bradley whirled around. "Fiachra is a bloke's name! Katie told me."
Colin laughed. That hadn't taken long at all. "So?"
"Slightly important information you skipped over there!" Bradley looked a little flushed, probably from rushing over here right after having received that eye-opening bit of news from Katie.
"Well, you didn't ask if it was a fella or a girl."
"But! It was implied that-I just didn't expect-your first shag was a bloke?!"
Colin leaned against the side of the truck, enjoying this far too much. "Oh, sorry, mind-reading is not among my skills."
Bradley tugged on the chain mail he was wearing. "You really could have clarified that."
"Why? Does it bother you?" Colin didn't think it would, but if it did, it would be better to get that out into the open immediately.
Bradley looked perplexed. "Bother? No! It's just-just..." His hands grasped at air as if they might pluck the lacking words out of the sky.
Before Colin could dig deeper into Bradley's curious inability to form coherent speech, Mary was calling them back to the set.
~***~
Bradley slumped against the stone wall next to Colin, who was fumbling with his iPod. They'd been doing the same scene all day, and it took forever to arrange all the extras between takes. Everyone's patience was running out and Bradley predicted they were about ten minutes away from a spectacular meltdown on the director's part. Naturally, Colin looked as calm as ever, which was unacceptable.
"Braised Lamb again?" Bradley asked, trying to peek at the iPod screen.
"Huh?" Colin slipped his massive headphones off his head, leaving them to frame his neck.
"I asked if you were listening to Braised Lamb again." Bradley took care to enunciate every word clearly.
"It's Frightened Rabbit, which I've told you at least twenty times already."
A first sign of possible irritation? Bradley pressed on. "It's hard to keep all that wailing separate."
"They're an excellent band from Scotland, I'll have you know." Colin's thumb rubbed and tapped on the iPod.
"There was this bloke from Scotland on my football team. Ian." Bradley hadn't thought of him in years.
Colin sent him a confused look. "Is it 'The Life of Bradley James' story time again?"
Bradley smacked his arm. "Wanker. See if I tell you anything ever again."
"Oh, come off it. So now. Ian." Colin even shut off his iPod.
That seemed like a whole lot of attention on something Bradley had meant to casually slip into a conversation when Colin was only half-listening. "We, uh, might have mucked about a few times."
Colin's eyes widened. "I don't believe you! You've been giving me a hard time for a week about Fiachra, and now you're telling me you've had a go with your football mates?" His voice rose enough to make one of the extras look over at them.
"Would you shush?" Bradley shoved his shoulder for emphasis. "Mate. Singular. Not mates. S’not like we’re talking bloody rugby, after all."
"Still! Especially after your 'oh, you could have clarified that, Colin' bit."
Bradley scratched a few splatters of dirt off Arthur's sword. "Well, now you know." He snuck a glance at Colin, who still looked dumbfounded. "It was one of those 'one thing leads to another' things."
"Is that a euphemism for 'we were so pissed off our arses that we had no idea what we were doing'?"
"No."
Colin gave him a disbelieving look.
"It wasn't!" Bloody hell, how long could it take to arrange twenty-five people around a table?
"Was he a good shag?"
In for a penny, in for a pound. "Technically, we didn't shag."
Colin frowned. "Technically? Either you did or you didn't. Rather straightforward, the whole thing."
Bradley craned his neck. There had to be someone looking for them to call them for their next take. But none of the plucky French PAs were in sight. "We-look, I'm far too sober to discuss this."
"I hear Katie and Angel are away off shopping for after we wrap today."
"When I said I was too sober, that wasn't a veiled invitation to get me hammered," Bradley protested.
Colin looked disappointed.
"However, if you felt inclined to restock our alcohol supply, I wouldn't object."
With a far too calculating smile, Colin replied, "I'll come round after dinner."
Bradley let his head fall back against the wall. He was doomed.
~***~
"Christ, this is vile." Bradley wrinkled his nose after taking a first sip of the drink Colin had made for him. "What the fuck is in this?"
Colin had to admit that it was a rather strange combination of flavours, but it wasn't vile. "Vodka, and.." He turned the bottle around to read the label. "Ginger Ale."
"You bought Ginger Ale as mixer? Are you out of your mind?"
"They only had Fanta, Coke, and this. Fanta's too sweet, and Coke is boring. So I thought we'd try something French."
Bradley pushed away his glass. "It's fucking rank. Why didn't you ring me from the shop? Or did you lose your mobile again?"
Colin tried the concoction again. Okay, perhaps it was vile. "Because! How could I know this was Ginger Ale? And tastes like shit?"
Bradley got off the bed and pulled on his trainers. "Because, Mr Je-parle-le-francais-perfectly, I'd have expected you to read the label before buying it! I'm going over to Katie's. I think she nicked a bottle of Coke from catering yesterday."
Colin stretched out on Bradley's bed. "Suit yourself." Secretly he was glad that he didn't have to continue to drink something that smelled like windshield fluid.
~***~
"Now explain this whole 'technically we didn't shag' business with your footie mate," Colin said after they'd each had a hefty vodka and Coke. A pleasant buzz was starting to spread through his body and he felt ready to extract a few hopefully filthy stories from Bradley's mind.
"Name's Ian." Bradley sat on the opposite end of the bed, a few pillows propped up against the brass bars.
"Okay, Ian."
Bradley drained the rest of his drink and held his glass out for more. "It was-almost like a dare. Like, how far are we going to go with this? We'd got off a few times before, and a snog here and there, which, again, not that unusual between team mates. So I thought, why the fuck not. I was curious."
Colin made agreeing noises while mixing another vodka and Coke. Heavy on the vodka, obviously. He handed it to Bradley and topped up his own glass.
Bradley gulped down a third of his drink before setting it down next to the bed.
There was a difference between drinking for courage and out of desperation, and Colin thought Bradley was veering rather close to the latter. "You don't need to tell me." It was one thing to get trashed and have a laugh about past flings, but quite another to reveal things in an drink-induced haze that you couldn't take back in the morning.
Bradley pointed at Colin. "Oh, you asked, and I'm telling you. Sordid details and all."
Colin leaned forward, elbows on his knees. "I didn't exactly ask."
"Oh no?" Bradley cleared his throat and, in an imitation of Colin's accent that wasn't half-bad, went on, "'Technically? Either you did or you didn't.' Your words."
"Well, you were confusing. As per usual."
"I'm not confusing."
Colin decided that Bradley was fine after all. "Okay, you are not confusing. Carry on."
"All right. So I was curious, and he was curious. It all went well at first, and then it-didn't work."
"Didn't work?" Colin repeated slowly.
Bradley studied the floral pattern on his sheets. "Yeah."
"I'm not following."
Bradley glanced at him. "Look, we wanted a shag. But we didn't really manage to, you know..." He was doing that thing with his hands again where he thought some waving around would probably magically convey the lacking words.
"Sorry, I don't speak Bradley's personal sign language," Colin teased.
"God, Colin, you can be really thick sometimes. Surely even you can imagine what it might mean if two blokes intend to shag and it doesn't work out!" Bradley sounded annoyed.
Maybe it was time to retreat from this conversation. Colin wished he'd known Bradley for longer than a few months; was his temper a sign of warning, a signal to back off, or was it okay to push him a bit more? Only one way to find out.
"What, d'you mean you couldn't get it up?" Colin asked, sticking to good-natured teasing.
"Christ. No, that's bloody not what I meant." Bradley stumbled off the bed, nearly knocking over the glass beside it. He kept talking as he walked over to the balcony doors. "Want me to spell it out? Fine. He couldn't get inside me. There. Happy now?" He tore open one of the doors. A burst of cool air streamed into the room. Leaning against the frame, Bradley added, "Fucking embarrassing, that was."
Shit. Shitshitshit. Colin had not expected that. Fuck, he really had no idea about the best way to proceed with Bradley now. He poured a shot of vodka into an empty glass and walked over to Bradley. He handed over the shot, which Bradley downed without hesitation. Colin looked out over the rooftops of Villers-Cotterêts, inky shadows against a dark sky.
When he felt Bradley relax against the door, he figured it would be safe enough to introduce words into the silence again. If Bradley had wanted to kick him out so he could be alone, he'd have already done so. "Did you trust him?" Colin asked quietly.
"What's that got to do with it?" Bradley murmured.
"Everything?"
Bradley looked at him in confusion.
Colin turned towards him, trying to keep his posture as open as possible. He'd a feeling that Bradley would continue to talk to him, but a misplaced word or gesture might make him bolt. "For the first time, at least. Maybe that was the problem."
"Maybe. He always had my back on the pitch, though. That should mean I trust him, doesn't it?"
Colin couldn't stop himself from saying, "Well, clearly, when he had you on your back-"
"Hey now. Who says I was on my back?"
That barely-there smile was reassuring. They were making their way back to much safer conversational territory. Colin turned further, his back against the bar separating the balcony doors. His elbow nearly brushed against Bradley's arm. He took it as a good sign that Bradley didn't move away. "Okay, so on your knees. Or whatever. Doesn't really matter. It was probably a tense situation even if you didn't think it was."
Bradley studied him. "You sound like you've got plenty of experience in that area."
"Maybe I do."
Bradley's eyebrows went up a fraction. "How many blokes have you shagged, exactly?"
Colin smiled. "A few." Maybe Bradley would feel better if he heard about some of his less-than-successful past encounters.
"You only shag blokes, then?" Bradley tried to sound casual, but it was easy to tell he was rather keen on the answer.
Colin held his gaze. "No. I'm open-minded."
"That's one way of putting it." Bradley looked out onto the balcony again.
"After Ian, you never thought about giving it another go? With someone else?"
Bradley stuffed his hands into the pockets of his shorts. "No. That was the most embarrassing experience of my life. Killed any curiosity I had."
Colin studied Bradley's profile. "That's too bad," he replied, not quite aware he'd said the words out loud.
Bradley studiously kept looking out over Villers-Cotterêts. "What's that supposed to mean?"
Colin knew that Bradley was aware he was being watched. "That you're missing out on some bloody fantastic sex."
Despite the low light in the room, it was easy to make out the flush on Bradley's cheeks. "If you say so."
"I do say so." Colin held his breath. In any other situation, Colin would have thought they were both testing the waters to see where this might possibly lead, but the last thing he wanted was to make Bradley feel uncomfortable again. He held himself still, waiting for a cue.
Bradley shifted from one foot to another. It was enough of a change in position for their shoulders to come to rest against one another. Colin didn't move away.
"Thanks," Bradley said.
"For?"
"For not giving me shit over what I told you."
Colin wanted to retort that he wouldn't do that, but considering most of their conversations so far had consisted of either planning pranks or trading insults, maybe Bradley hadn't expected anything different. "I wouldn't do that over something that's happened to me as well."
"It has?" Bradley sounded surprised.
"Sure. That's why I asked you if you trusted him. Because, it's a really a bit of a strange thing you're doing there, isn't it? Especially if you've never done it before. You've no idea how it's supposed to go or feel or what have you. It's this odd situation and if you're not entirely sure the other person won't cock it up-no pun intended-and, I'm rambling, amn’t I?" Colin decided he'd finally arrived at the "spectacularly drunk" stage.
Bradley smiled at him. "It's fine."
Colin smiled back, feeling like a stupid sap for the tingling that rushed through him.
They lapsed into silence again, each looking around the room and somewhat pointedly not at one another. Neither of them moved away, however.
Eventually, Bradley shuffled away a bit while rubbing a hand over his face. "When are we getting picked up again tomorrow?"
"Um, seven, I think?"
Bradley walked over to the bed and picked up his mobile. "Ah, fuck, it's nearly three already." He let himself fall back onto the mattress. "I'm going to have a blinding headache. I can feel it brewing."
"I've some aspirin in my room. I'll bring it tomorrow morning, aye?" Colin hesitated by the bed for a moment before moving towards the door. "You might want to have some water before you go to sleep."
"Thanks, mum, I think I will."
"Arse." They were all right, Colin assured himself; there'd been a moment earlier when things could have become rather awkward, and he was relieved they'd managed to avoid that.
"Night," Bradley mumbled. He was still clutching his mobile and both of his feet were hanging off the bed, but Colin didn't think that could prevent him from being asleep within the next minute.
"Good night," he replied softly and left.
~***~
Colin's aspirin turned out to be a godsend. Otherwise, Bradley might never have survived the drive to the set. Why had he never noticed all these bumps in the road before? Even the music in the car was decent this morning. Thank god Katie had a later start or he'd be subjected to Kate Nash. Again. He'd seen Colin hook up his iPod to the car stereo when he arrived and braced himself for the worst, but whatever was playing was actually quite pleasant. Well, as pleasant as an accompaniment to a thousand little blacksmiths making swords in his head could be.
"Enjoying yourself?" Colin asked.
Bradley hoped that simply turning his head into the direction of Colin's voice would be enough of a prompt for elaborating on this 'enjoyment.' Didn't Colin see that he was dying over here?
"You were bobbing along to the music." Colin had the audacity to sound cheerful, the utter bastard.
"I wasn't." Was he? It was entirely possible that he was twitching involuntarily.
"You were."
Bradley ignored him for half a song. "What are we listening to?"
"The Divine Comedy. The best-of, to be specific."
"God, can you ever listen to something that doesn't have a weird name?" Bright light was shining into Bradley's eyes despite his sunglasses. He let his head loll against the back of the seat in the hope of finding some shade.
"And Coldplay isn't a weird name."
Bradley pushed his hand under his glasses, rubbing his eyes and temples. "At least it's not named after a book everyone only pretends to have read. Or after some animal. And why the fuck are you so bloody awake? You had as little sleep as me."
"Necked about a litre of water after I got back to my room. Besides, we didn't really drink that much."
Bradley groaned. Apparently, he should have listened to Colin's advice. He was never drinking with Colin again. He snorted. Right. Like that’s a resolution he could stick to. "Have we any scenes together today?"
Rustling noises ensued, which probably meant that Colin was flipping through the call sheet. "Uh, no. I have a scene with Angel and then two with Richard. That's it. You've a few with Santiago."
Bradley straightened. "Santiago? What's he doing here again?"
"They wanted him to come in and shoot a few more scenes. Apparently he made quite an impression on Johnny in the dailies. Bloody loved him."
Something niggled at the back of Bradley's mind. "Yeah. That-right. God, they'll have us do twenty-five takes of the same fight." His desire to die, or at least crawl under a rock, was suddenly reinforced. All the bouncing and running around would make his head explode.
"At least he's not a total minger."
"Who, Santiago?"
Colin shrugged. "Well, yeah. He's pretty fit."
Bradley wished he could say that he hadn't noticed, but that would have been a blatant lie. "That he is."
Colin smirked at him.
"What?"
"Nothing."
"Seriously, what?"
"Nothing." Colin's grin widened as he stared out the window.
Bradley ignored him for the rest of the drive.
~***~
Colin was on his way back from lunch when he spotted Bradley hunched over on a chair next to where they were filming another tournament scene. "Hey."
Bradley squinted up at him. "Hey."
"You look like shit." Colin sat down in the chair next to him.
"Oh, thanks."
"Didn't see you over at catering." Dust puffed up in small clouds when Colin dragged his shoes through the dirt.
"Didn't feel like throwing up all over Santiago. Costume's been giving me enough grief already. 'Don't lean against that dirty fence, Bradley!'. Inhuman pricks, the lot of them." Bradley's shoulders hunched even more than before. He rubbed the back of his hand over his eyes, but the motion didn't remove the fatigue lining them.
Without thinking about it, Colin brought his fingers up to Bradley's nape. He knew Bradley was in even worse shape than he was letting on, and this might help. For a brief moment, Bradley tensed, and Colin stilled, ready to let his hand slip away. But Bradley's head dropped forward, and Colin's fingertips felt their way up tight tendons, pressing lightly at first. Upon hearing affirmative noises, he pressed down with more force. His thumb sought the juncture of neck and shoulder, rubbing circles there until he could feel the knots loosen. Contented humming provided guidance, and soon Colin found himself kneading tight muscles with his entire hand. When most of the tension had disappeared, he couldn't resist seeking out the hair curling around the collar of the bright red jacket. The tips were damp from earlier exertions and twisted easily around his fingers. After one last tousle, he withdrew his hand.
"Thanks," Bradley mumbled.
"Welcome. Give me a shout later?"
Bradley rolled his head back and forth, probably working out some remaining kinks. "Might just go to bed."
Colin stood up. "Text me, then." He half-expected another 'mum'-comment from Bradley, but he just waved him off. Colin decided that meant he'd get a text later.
Halfway across the drawbridge, he looked back. Bradley had slung Arthur's sword over his shoulder and was jogging back over to where Santiago was talking to Ed. If anyone could tell Bradley was hung over, Colin would have been surprised. When Bradley smiled at something Santiago said-the kind of wide smile that echoed in his eyes-the tingling from the previous night was back, and Colin wondered if maybe, just maybe, he could convince Bradley to let that take them somewhere.
~***~
Bradley stumbled towards his room, half-asleep on his feet after an unexpected meeting about script changes that affected the next day's shooting schedule. He'd meant to be back at the hotel three hours prior, thought he might watch an episode of Heroes to unwind, and then go to bed early. Now it was already past eleven and he faced another night of too little sleep. Bradley had half a mind to knock on Colin's door to complain about the long meeting, but he was probably asleep by now.
The white envelope taped to his door made him pause. It said Bradley in Colin's handwriting. Bradley unlocked his door and kicked it shut with one foot, all the while shaking the envelope to get a clue about its contents. Something was rattling around in it.
It turned out to be a memory stick with mp3s on it. The Divine Comedy-A Secret History, it said on the note Colin had included. And, We listened to it this morning. Thought you might want a copy.
Bradley left the music on even after he'd turned off the light. A phantom touch of fingers swept over his nape and into his hair. He wondered what they might feel like if they roamed farther, unwinding muscles and sinews on their way. His stomach tightened, and if he'd been more awake, he might have been more concerned about how thoroughly Colin had imprinted himself on Bradley's life. But floating between wakefulness and sleep, only the prospect of seeing Colin the next day, and the day after, and the day after that, mattered.
~***~
Filming had been cancelled for the second day in a row due to torrential rain. They settled in Colin's room-he'd got the bigger bed, after all, and considering that was all there was to sit on, it made the decisive difference-and were watching Buffy. Bradley'd been talking his ear off about it ever since they met, with the success that Colin had finally agreed to be introduced to the allegedly best TV show ever made.
"And, see now, Dawn, she wasn't actually there before. She just appeared, but no one notices. They think she's always been Buffy's sister." Bradley sounded awed. "Think you've got it so far?"
Colin nodded dutifully.
"Season Five is when Buffy starts to get really good, so we'll start there. You can always ask me if there's something that's unclear."
"Will do." Colin settled himself back against the pillows and hoped he wouldn't fall asleep. The constant drum of rain against the windows had kept him in a daze all day.
As the episode progressed, Colin had to admit that it was funny to see Anthony as a slightly stuffy ex-librarian and magic shop owner. He could even picture how this might be an interesting show to watch, but he hadn't watched much TV in the past few years, and wasn’t too pushed about it overall. Which was somewhat ironic, considering.
Colin became so absorbed in trying to process Anthony's acting choices and in figuring out the blocking in several scenes that he only noticed Bradley'd fallen asleep when the end credits came on. He gently jabbed his elbow into Bradley's side.
Startled, Bradley nearly fell off the bed. Colin really didn't want to laugh at that, but he couldn't help himself.
"Piss off," Bradley admonished, voice rough with sleep.
"How could you fall asleep during the best TV show in the world? I'm telling Anthony," Colin managed between laughs.
"It's the fucking rain." Bradley leaned over the side of the bed, probably in search of his mobile, which he'd tossed over that way earlier. "And you will not breathe a word to Tony about this. Besides, I've seen this episode at least three times before."
Muscles played under Bradley's worn grey T-shirt as he moved. Colin tracked their contraction and expansion with his eyes, and wondered what the movement might feel under the palm of his hand.
"What d'you think of the episode?" Bradley asked after he'd retrieved his mobile. His thumb flew over the keys.
"Not bad."
Bradley briefly looked up at him. "Told you. Buffy is genius."
"Absolutely." Colin picked up the video camera from the bedside table and switched it on.
It took Bradley about twenty seconds to realise he was being taped. "Oh, c'mon, not now. We're hardly doing something of interest, Colin."
"Oh, I don't know, I'm sure some people will be interested in seeing Bradley James in bed."
"In your bed, you mean."
Colin burst out laughing.
"Ah, fuck, turn that off, will you? Clearly I'm not fit for possible public consumption today." Bradley pushed the camera away from his face.
"I think you should leave it up to the adoring public to decide how fit you are." It was kind of difficult to keep the camera steady while laughing, Colin discovered.
Bradley took another swipe at the camera, but Colin grasped his wrist and pinned it to the bed. As Bradley's mobile was still in his other hand, he had to endure more filming. "Dear Merlin fans, may I present Bradley James in his natural habitat." He slowly panned over the laptop at the foot of the bed, a half-eaten packet of Hobnobs, the Buffy DVD set, and Bradley's naked feet.
"The rain's gone to your head. Barking mad, you are." Bradley submitted the keys on his mobile to another assault of rapid texting.
Colin zoomed in on Bradley's face. There was a frown of concentration forming between his brows, nearly obscured by a fringe that was a tad too long and threatened to fall into his eyes. Bradley had taken to continuously sweeping the offending strands away from his forehead, reaching a point where Jeremy had interrupted a scene because 'Arthur was fussing with his hair like an insecure thirteen year-old girl and this was not a direction in which they saw the crown prince heading, so would he please get a fucking haircut'. Bradley had been brooding for the rest of that day. He still hadn't got a haircut a week later, out of sheer stubbornness, Colin suspected.
"I know exactly what you're doing," Bradley said without taking his eyes off the mobile display. "I have excellent peripheral vision."
"Anything else you'd like to share?"
Bradley sighed. "Turn it off, will you?"
It was an earnest request. Colin put the camera aside and flopped onto his back. He glanced at City of Night on the bedside table and wondered if he could sneak in a few pages while Bradley was texting his life story to god-knew-who. Probably Angel. Right on cue, the mobile beeped, indicating the arrival of a new message.
"Katie's found out that Hancock's playing in a town twenty miles from here. In English, if you please. Fancy going?" Bradley asked.
Colin shrugged. "Aye, grand." Hancock wouldn't have been his first choice, but he was bored.
Bradley was bending over the side of the bed again in a quest for his socks or shoes or whatever, and this time, Colin couldn't resist reaching out.
"What are you doing?" Bradley asked while rooting around in the mess that covered the floor.
"I'm touching your back," Colin murmured, enthralled with the dips and rises under his fingers.
Bradley stood up and turned around to face Colin. "You. Are. Mad."
His eyes told another story entirely. Colin ignored him, smiling to himself as he tightened the laces on his trainers.
~***~
Bradley never discovered what Hancock was about. He tried to focus on Will Smith's superhero problems, but all his mind cared to explore was the memory of how solid Colin's hand had felt on his back.
~***~
The following week was hell.
All in all, they had lost three days to rain and hail, and were trying to make up for it as quickly as possible. Bradley barely saw Colin during the day, and at night, all of them headed straight to bed after arriving back at the hotel, exhausted from a long day of shooting and aware of more long days ahead. A few times, Bradley had managed to sneak into one of Colin's scenes, watching him from behind rows of equipment and extras. They'd exchanged a few words while eating hasty lunches and dinners, but it seemed as if they hadn't actually talked in ages.
At least they had Bastille Day off. Bradley went down to Art et Pizza with Colin, Katie, and Tony. During dinner, he traded amused glances with Katie about the salad Colin devoured. There was talk of going to a bar afterwards, but when Colin announced that he was knackered and would return to the hotel, Bradley decided to forgo alcohol in favour of Colin-time. They'd picked up a few bottles of beer on their way back, which they drank on the balcony behind their rooms.
Although conversations with Colin had been what Bradley had missed most the past week, they didn't talk very much. Colin shared one story about Glasgow involving a bat, an umbrella, and three cartons of milk, but other than that, they were quiet.
As the sun dipped behind the horizon and the breeze picked up, Bradley felt as if he was slowly uncurling, one twist undoing itself with each breath, the wooden floor warm underneath his feet and Colin a steadying presence at his side.
~***~
Colin had gone back to his room to pick up his black hoodie. When he stepped back onto the balcony, he stopped, taking in the way Bradley's hip jutted out as he was leaning forward over the wooden railing, elbows propped up on it and beer bottle dangling from his fingers.
A wave of want swept over him. It had been threatening to crest a few times, but Colin had pushed it down, uncertain about the time or place or Bradley's state of mind. But he was certain now.
A beam creaked under his shoes as he walked over to Bradley, who threw a glance and a thoughtful smile over his shoulder before turning back around. Colin stopped by his side, standing closer than he usually would, and took the beer bottle out of Bradley's hand. He carefully set the bottle down on the planks. Maybe it was the way Colin looked at him, but Bradley fell silent after a small noise of protest.
With one hand on Bradley's hip, Colin turned him around and nudged him back against the wooden railing. There would have been enough time for Bradley to speak up or move away, but he only gazed back at Colin, looking caught between wanting to brace himself and wanting to shout, finally.
It was only a brush of lips at first. Colin wanted to be sure that he hadn't mistaken the ease and comfort in the words, and, increasingly, in the touches between them. In the span of a breath, Bradley kissed him back. Colin sighed into his mouth, relief mingling with need. His hands curled more firmly around Bradley's hips, seeking out the bones that stood out so enticingly. Bradley knew what to do with his tongue, and teeth, and hands; with what little coherence Colin had left, he mapped out the possibilities of where else to apply these skills.
When the air had been kissed out of their lungs, they moved on to sensitive spots behind ears, near jaws, and across necks. Bradley in particular was insistent on pushing a hand under the edge of Colin's hoodie to lick along the exposed skin across his collar bones. Colin's hand twisted into Bradley's hair lest he stop. His head fall back, and he found himself looking up at the night sky. They must have switched places unbeknown to him. The wood against his back was digging into his skin, but it was only a passing flare of pain, blanketed by the pleasure rushing through him, head to toe and back again.
"So," Colin whispered into Bradley's ear, "think that the curiosity might come back?"
Bradley looked up at him, face flushed and hair disheveled. "Oh, it's back all right."
He kissed Colin again, pressing as close as possible to seek and push and take until the stars across the sky blurred into flashes behind Colin's eyelids.
Part 2
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