Birthday fic for Siri! - How to Woo Your Co-Star in Five Songs or Less - PG-13
Title: How To Woo Your Co-Star in Five Songs or Less
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: Colin/Bradley
Warnings: Pining, oh so much pining! Other than that, fluffier than fluffy kittens.
Disclaimer: If I owned Bradley James and Colin Morgan, they'd be living next door to me and we'd be BFF. Since we aren't, it can be assumed I own nothing, including every song I mention.
Summary: In which Bradley attempts to become indie, if only he knew what indie was.
Notes: HAPPY BIRTHDAY thisissirius!!!! Originally I was going to draw something for Siri's birthday, which I did, but I thought it turned out heinous beyond all measure. So instead, I pushed myself to finish this fic I've been teasing everyone with in time for her birthday, which it still is on this side of the Atlantic.
This fic started as an image in my brain and grew disproportionately large, as fic is wont to do, though it didn't turn epic! Hurrah! Thanks goes to the usual suspects, but especially to social_retard86, who brainstormed pretty much every good song in this fic and helped me decide on Bradley's hilarious bad 80's musical fixation.
Also, no porn, because I wanted to actually finish this thing, and also because I refuse to give into fandom pressure to always have sex scenes. THAT'S RIGHT, FANDOM, I'M STANDING UP TO YOU. THIS IS ME, ASSERTING MY POWER.
The thing about Colin Morgan is - well. There are a lot of things about Colin. He's brilliant and he makes Bradley laugh and then makes his chest ache with painful and overwhelming adoration. He's so fucking, goddamned sexy, too, like the hottest person Bradley's ever met, and Bradley's in the entertainment business so he meets a lot of unnaturally attractive people. Even before Bradley was helplessly infatuated with Colin, he'd look at him and think, Christ, that mouth's too fucking pretty to be real, or he'd jerk off just thinking about Colin's hands, his thin, strong, pale hands running up and down Bradley's body and touching him everywhere.
Bradley would really like it if Colin would please just touch him everywhere. He isn't repulsive, so that's not too much to ask, right?
So Bradley wasn't totally enamored with Colin the first time they met, or the second, but he is now, which is the important part. In fact, he's so enamored that he finds himself heading home to Devon for a weekend to be comforted by his mother of all the ridiculous things. He's a fully-grown man, and yet he finds himself sitting at the kitchen table yelling hysterically while his mother soothes him and plies him with tea sympathetically like he's some sort of teenager again, saying things like "there, there" and "one day you'll find love, don't you worry", and whatever other platitudes mothers store up to use when they have to lie to their children.
That weekend is the final straw. Bradley refuses to ever be that pathetic over Colin Morgan again, which he figures can only happen one of two ways:
One: he learns that Colin is, in fact, a wizard who has placed a spell on him, and he finds an antidote, fast.
Two: he kisses Colin and then that leads to fucking him (or he can be the one being fucked, as long as it's Colin, it's a moot point really). And then they cuddle and do it all over again, in every various combination, and Bradley gets to rub his face and mouth along all of Colin's pale, lovely skin, and then Colin graciously agrees to go out with him, which leads to them of course getting married, and then they adopt Cambodian babies, because his mum wants grandchildren. (Though Bradley is willing to negotiate on the nationality of their gay babies, because he's always heard the best plans have some wiggle room.)
Plan two is clearly the superior one, since it involves Bradley and Colin having sex with each other, except there is the stumbling block of Bradley not knowing how to set it in motion, exactly, and therein lies his problem. He's tried a lot of things, too. First he tried subtle flirting, because he figured Colin would appreciate subtlety, but that seemed to go straight over his head. So then Bradley tried overtly flirting, from shamelessly propositioning Colin to complimenting everything (his acting, his cheekbones, his ratty hoodies). Colin seems to find that all mildly humorous and just laughs it off as Bradley either being friendly or taking the piss.
"I am full of anguish," Bradley says to Angel while they wait for the camera tracks to be laid down. He had already tried talking to Katie, but she gave him a lot of unhelpful looks and poorly contained laughter. "It's like, it's absolute agony, is what it is. I'm in a pit of despair."
"Are you talking about Colin again?" Angel asks vaguely, looking up from her crossword.
"No, Angel," he says dryly, "I'm talking about the other parts of my life that are filled with anguish and despair."
"Bradley, just tell him you like him," Angel sighs, putting down her pencil. "I'm sure you can manage that."
"I did," Bradley says miserably. "And then he laughed, punched me in the arm, and asked what I thought would be for lunch."
"Oh." Angel blinks a few times. "Well, maybe that's because you tease him so much, he doesn't know you're being serious."
"So what am I supposed to do, go back in time and untease him?"
"Well," she says brightly, "at least this will help you as inspiration for our scenes where you're supposed to be pining?"
"You're unhelpful," Bradley tells her. "Also, a hussy."
"Takes one to know one," Angel says, picking her crossword back up.
"That was a really good comeback, Angel," Bradley says snidely, and un-invites her to his and Colin's future big gay wedding.
- - -
When Bradley was in drama school, he had to take voice lessons with a crazy old guy named Dudley Moore who was gay as a row of pink tents and liked to talk about the power of song a lot.
"You laugh, boys!" he would trill, looking through his perfectly round little glasses at the row of uncomfortable chortling straight boys who had never sung a note in their life and, like Bradley, thought acting was cool because you got paid to make moves on girls and it didn't involve being stuck in an office. "But there's no surer way to someone's heart than through the power of song!" Bradley had gotten laid quite a few times by that logic, so he figured it was an excellent plan to try on Colin, since nothing else would work, and since Colin had been really into that whole You're the Voice thing.
So Bradley starts singing around Colin more. He doesn't have the greatest voice, but he can hold a tune, and it makes Colin laugh to be told to get on set to the tune of Come On Eileen ("Come on Col-een! You're needed on set in fifteen! So wake up! And get over there!")
"That was an appeal to your Irish roots," Bradley tells Colin seriously, when he's done laughing. "I'm glad you liked it."
"Very clever rhyme scheme," Colin nods, clapping Bradley on the shoulder, which makes Bradley's insides feel like they've turned pleasurably into liquid. His plan is clearly genius. Next he tries songs that are in his falsetto, because sense of humor is also important when you're setting about to woo someone, especially if you're Bradley and it's probably the only thing you've got going for you. Total Eclipse of the Heart is a bit of a failure, because it turns out that the music video gives Colin nightmares, but Bradley trying to hit the high note in Take On Me makes him laugh until he cries. Which Bradley considers a win until it turns out the crying made Colin's makeup run, and then everyone gets really annoyed at him, plus Angel says it gives her a headache to hear Bradley sing like that, so he's ordered to put the falsetto away.
Undaunted, Bradley decides that Every Little Thing She Does Is Magic is the perfect song with which to woo Colin, because of the irony, and also because every lyric fits perfectly. He starts humming it around Colin under his breath, which makes Colin give a little amused huff, looking at Bradley with crinkly eyes that make Bradley's knees feel weak. Then Bradley starts putting it on in the car all the time when they're driving to set, looking at Colin extremely pointedly while he pretends to be Sting, but after a while Colin stops finding it cute and starts groaning loudly and threatening to kill Bradley if he sings the song one more time.
It's clearly time to bring out the big guns.
"Colin!" Bradley says loudly, bursting into their trailer, "Colin, I have a song to sing for you!"
"If it's Every Little Thing again, I'm punching you in the face." Colin doesn't look up from Bradley's iPhone, which he's probably stolen to play Bejewled on. He's become completely addicted and beaten all of Bradley's high scores in less than a week.
"No, no, listen," Bradley says, but Colin refuses to look up. "Colin, I'm never gonna give you up."
"Okay," Colin says agreeably.
"I'm never gonna let you down," Bradley goes on. He's not very good at singing this low, so it sounds like he's speaking weird, but Colin still won't look up. "I'm never gonna run around and desert you." At this, Colin looks up and gives Bradley a slow, sweet smile and Bradley thinks excitedly yes, yes, he finally gets it.
"You're rickrolling me!" Colin says, bursting into hysterical laughter. "You're actually in-person rickrolling me."
"What?" Bradley asks. "I mean, yeah. Obviously."
"Good one," Colin says, and then checks the clock. "Ah, fuck, gotta go back on set, see you."
"Bye," Bradley says miserably, and collapses on the couch when Colin leaves, groaning loudly.
Dudley Moore was clearly a liar.
- - -
Angel is very unhelpful about Bradley's anguish, since she's still mad about the falsetto and having Sting in her head for two weeks straight, so he calls Katie and actually waits until she's finished laughing instead of hanging up on her.
"Maybe," Katie says when she's finished giggling hysterically, "maybe you should try for something a little more... Colin-ish."
"Oh god, you're completely useless," Bradley groans.
"What I meant," Katie says with a touch of impatience, "is that bad eighties music is more your style. Maybe to get Colin to notice you, you have to be more his style."
"I don't think I can pull off Colin's style," Bradley said. Colin's style, as far as he can tell, is a unstudied nerdy hipster sort of non-style that incidentally happened to be sort of stylish by some genius stroke of luck. Bradley was pretty sure you were born with that style, since trying would sort of ruin the whole nonchalant effect.
"Well, then I suppose you're doomed to be alone forever," Katie says with merciless cheer. "Oh look, I'm needed on set. Bye."
"You're unhelpful," Bradley informs the click and dead silence. "Also, a heartless hussy. Do you hear me, Katie? Heartless."
The phone does not respond.
- - -
Filming comes to an end and Bradley is no closer to sleeping with Colin than before, and fresh out of plans or sympathy. Bradley wraps his last scene and then hugs Colin a little tighter, holds on a little longer than he normally would. The next few weeks without Colin is going to involve a lot of lonely wanking, and for that he needs the memory of how Colin's body feels against his, wiry and strong, how delicious Colin smells, so much that Bradley wants to just turn into a cat and rub all over him, and that heart-pounding feeling of knowing if he turned his head just so, he could kiss Colin.
"I'll be back before you know it," Colin soothes. "And then we're going on a roadtrip, yeah?"
"Yeah," Bradley says glumly, giving Colin one last squeeze before letting him go.
Once Colin's gone Bradley lets himself sink into a pit of utter despair, watching Labyrinth and Moulin Rouge and stuffing his face with crisps and not showering, wondering why when Ewan McGregor sings, he gets attention, and Bradley gets things thrown at him. On the third day, his mother unplugs the telly.
"Mum!" He yelps, looking at her with utter betrayal. "I was wallowing."
"You stink," his mother says, arms akimbo and not giving an inch. "You'll get your telly back when you shower and shave so you don't look like those kids who hang around the coffee shop listening to strange music and dressing like they're homeless."
"I do not - " Bradley begins, and then his eyes widen. "You really think I look like those kids at the coffee shop?"
"What, is this a new fashion now you're not telling me about?" His mother asks, raising her eyebrow in a disturbingly Richard-esque manner. "Because I raised you better than to look homeless, Bradley."
"Mum," Bradley breathes, standing up and sending the pretzels he was eating off his stomach to the floor, which he ignores in favor of enveloping his mother in a massive hug. "Mum, you're a genius."
"That's lovely," his mother says, shoving him away. "Now for the love of God, shower."
"I'm not shaving," he warns her. "The beard is going to help me win Colin over."
His mother makes a suspicious choking noise before schooling her expression back to utter neutrality. "So you discovered that Colin's attracted to men with pubic hair growing out of their face, then?" she asks. Bradley tries not to have a violent reaction at his mother using the phrase 'pubic hair'.
"No," he says scathingly. "Colin will love me because I'm indie. And cool. And hip."
"Of course, dear," his mother sighs, shoving him out of the den and into the bathroom. "Of course he will."
- - -
Bradley has some healthy scruff going by time he has to drive to Cardiff, and three days mostly alone with Colin while they share hotel rooms (God bless the BBC and their obsessive cheapness, he thinks). There is absolutely no way he won't be seducing the pants off Colin.
He plans how Colin will first see him bearded very carefully, because first impressions, even of facial hair, are important. He knows when Colin's train from Scotland comes in and how long it will take him to get to the hotel so he plans when he will be lounging artfully, tight white t-shirt rucked up just so, so there's a sliver of skin to tease, lamplight soft on his mussed hair, bare feet peeking out from his jeans as he thoughtfully reads the provided guidebooks on Wales. He's going to look like some sort of literary nerd wet dream.
Only Colin doesn't seem particularly plussed when he comes in, just goes "Bradley!" the same way he always does and pulls him into a friendly hug. He doesn't even mention the beard until they're eating dinner and he's already asked about Bradley's family and exchanged some cast gossip and told Bradley about the few days of filming he'd been doing in Mull.
"You auditioning for Shakespeare?" He asks during a lull, buttering up a roll and popping a bit into his mouth.
"What? No," Bradley says, confused. "Why?"
"You have the, you know," Colin waves in his general mouth area. "You've the look going for you now."
"Oh, no, I, uh." Bradley stumbles on the explanation. He hadn't really thought he'd need one. The only time it had come up in his head was the scenario where Colin was naked, looking up at him starry-eyed and going "oh, Bradley, did you grow that for me?" and Bradley would say (in his deep, manly voice), "yes, yes of course," and then there would be a great deal of sex. "Just trying something new."
"Cool," Colin nods. "It's nice not to have to shave, yeah?"
"Yeah," Bradley says. "It's nice."
That night, when Colin's breathing heavily in his bed, face creased and visible to Bradley from the dim streetlight coming through the gap in the curtains, Bradley watches him miserably, unable to sleep. Did he miscalculate, he wonders? What if all this time, Colin really hasn't been interested? How's he going to survive this roadtrip? He feels - not sad, really, or depressed, because when he gets to watch Colin sleep, it's impossible to be really depressed. He feels slightly achy, like he's just run up a flight of stairs top speed in his full armor or been whacked at by Andreas for twenty-four hours straight. He wishes he could just fucking say what he's thinking, except he's never going to have the courage to turn to Colin and go, I grew this beard for you. I'd do anything, be anyone for you. I love you so much that I don't know what to do with myself. Please, please, please love me back.
With a sigh, he moves to the side of the bed away from Colin and turns his back to him, pulling up the blankets and trying to believe that all he needs is time, and by the end of the roadtrip Colin will be naked next to him, and everything will have been worth it.
- - -
Bradley tries really, really hard to let Colin be when it comes to music on the trip. If he's indie, now, he's going to have to put up with whatever weird band Colin pulls up on his iPod and bops along to, shooting Bradley a hopeful grin. One album, he's fine with. Two albums is stretching his patience to the maximum.
"Okay, no," he says when Colin starts up something else that sounds deeply weird. "I listened to whatever that last thing was - "
"That was Belle & Sebastian," Colin says sadly. "They aren't weird."
"But I am not listening to another one of your bizarre CDs."
"A lot of people like Death Cab for Cutie," Colin says.
"Will you just..." Bradley reaches into his pocket and takes out his iPod, which actually has room to hold music in it. "Here. We agree on what's on this, just put it on shuffle, will you?"
"Fine," Colin mutters, switching out his iPod for Bradley's. They spend the next twenty minutes humming along to much more pleasurable music, like The Cure and David Bowie.
"Okay, this is nicer," Colin admits.
"Told you," Bradley says. He sort of spaces out for a bit until a very familiar little autotune starts playing. "Skip that one," he says quickly.
"Why -" Colin begins, but then his lips curve into a shit-eating grin the second the voice comes on. "Bradley, do you have Lady Gaga on your iPod?"
"Angel put it on there," Bradley grumbles, shifting gears and drumming his fingers along, which Colin of course catches.
"But you're enjoying it!" he crows. "I bet you know all the words."
"It's catchy," Bradley says evasively, not answering the question.
"Oh, look, you've got the entire album here," Colin says, scrolling through Bradley's iPod. "Wow, how much did Angel put on here, anyway?"
"Give me that," Bradley says, snatching his iPod away. At least he'd deleted the Girls Aloud.
"It's okay to want some love and to want some revenge," Colin goes on, because he's an arse. "You and Angel could write a bad romance."
"I hate you," Bradley tells Colin. But mostly he hates himself and his iPod for ruining everything.
- - -
Here are some things Bradley learns on the roadtrip he does not divulge to the cameramen:
One: Colin is really fucking adorable with his map and attempts at navigation, but also completely useless. It would be easier if Bradley just took the map, but Colin loves it and carries it in his back pocket at all times and writes little notes on it when they stop for meals, poring over books and circling towns they should visit on their own one day, maybe bring Katie and Angel, he says, and Bradley doesn't have the heart to take that map even though maybe he should.
Two: Even though there are shorter routes and Bradley's pretty sure he could figure them out on his own, when Colin's looking at him with big, blue eyes going "I thought it would be nice if we could see a bit of Welsh countryside, you and me", it's sort of romantic and Bradley's helpless to say no.
Three: Colin is a wonderful travel-mate. Besides those playlists he made for them to listen to the night after the Lady Gaga incident, he knows when to be silent and when to talk, and he isn't like Bradley's sister, asking to stop to pee every five seconds.
Four: So maybe Bradley botched his indie thing with the whole Lady Gaga thing, and maybe he never does anything more illicit than bump Colin's elbow or knee a lot, or tangle their fingers "accidentally" when they're both reaching for crisps, but when Colin smiles at him so openly with so much affection, when Colin falls asleep in Bradley's bed and Bradley doesn't move him, just dozes next to him with his knuckles oh-so-casually brushing Colin's stomach in a way that looks like a mistake but really is a ploy to feel Colin's gentle breathing, he's never been happier.
And it's almost enough.
- - -
Neither he nor Colin are particularly eager for the idyllic pace of the roadtrip to end. For Colin it means being thrown face-first into some heavily emotional scenes he needs to re-shoot, and for Bradley it means moping around London and seeing how long it takes before Angel loses her patience with him and does him some sort of bodily harm.
"I say we run into the Welsh countryside where no one can find us," Colin suggests with an air of helplessness. "Become Arthurian fact-seeking hobos. Camp out in the library and live off curry take-away."
"It'll never work," Bradley says gloomily, staring at the gridlock on an appropriately appropriate rain-soaked and gloomy that had been threatening to fall on them all of yesterday in Caerleon. "Don't you get a tracking device planted in your arse when you sign up to work at the Beeb?"
"Memory drugs," Colin says serenely. "They're tricky bastards."
"Of course," Bradley nods. "How could I forget the memory-erasing drugs."
Colin smiles at him, but it's close-mouthed and anemic, and he quickly breaks eye contact to fiddle with Bradley's iPod, resting on the console between them still. They're silent all the way to the train station, while they unpack Colin's bag and Bradley walks him to the door.
"So," he says awkwardly. "I guess this is your stop."
"Yeah," Colin says sadly, stuffing his hands in his pockets and rocking back and forth.
"Well, come here then," Bradley says, and pulls Colin into a hug. He feels Colin go limp against him with a sigh, arms tight around Bradley's waist. He thinks he feels Colin snuffle a little, right behind his ear, like he wants to bury himself there and never leave, but it's probably just heinous projection on his part. "You'll call," he says out loud, not sure if he's re-assuring Colin or himself.
"It's less than a month," Colin agrees. He squeezes tight and then lets go, picking up his bag and heading to the door.
Bradley feels like part of his heart's been ripped out of his chest and he's watching it walk away, like this is every stupid romantic movie cliche, which is why he finds himself calling out, "Col!"
Colin turns around with a quizzical smile. "Yeah?"
"I..." the words catch in Bradley's throat. Say it, you bastard, he thinks. Just fucking say it. Do it. C'mon, do it. Colin's eyes are on him, bright and he just can't, because what if Colin never looks at him like that again? "...I'm gonna miss you."
"Yeah," Colin smiles, still a little sad. "I'll miss you too."
Bradley watches Colin walk away, kicking himself. It would have been so perfect, if he could have just said something. Colin looked kind of hopeful, didn't he? What if Colin had wanted it, he thinks as he opens his car door and collapses, closing his eyes and scrubbing his face. What if he could have finally kissed Colin, gotten everything he ever wanted? What if he's fucked up, yet again? What if all this time...
Bradley's phone goes off, interrupting his thoughts. Turn on your ipod, Colin's text reads. Confused, Bradley presses play, and then snorts when Lady Gaga comes on. I want your everything as long as it's free, she sings. I want your love, I want your love love love, I want your love. Bradley doesn't know if he should laugh or cry.
ur such a twat he texts Colin instead.
haha :) Colin says.
- - -
"What," Angel says flatly, when she finally finds her way into the signing and takes off her coat, "is that."
"This is my iPhone," Bradley says slowly, waving it at her. "I'm playing a game called Bejeweled, you may have heard of it." He doesn't tell her that he's trying to beat all of Colin's high scores and so far he's only beat his lowest on the scoreboard. Colin's some sort of Bejeweled zen master.
"I meant on your face."
"This," Bradley says, stroking it lovingly, "is my indie beard."
"Is this another one of your ploys to sleep with Colin?" Angel sighs in an intensely long-suffering manner. "Because if you're trying to be more indie, it won't work when you're wearing an Abercrombie & Fitch shirt."
"Hey," Bradley says feelingly. "I can be indie."
"Right," Angel says, rolling her eyes. "How did that work for you on the Wales trip?"
Bradley thinks about how much Colin smiled at him, about the hug, about leaving Bad Romance on his iPod and how often he called from Mull, about how when Bradley woke up that night they fell asleep together Colin's hand was clenched in his shirt. "I think it might be working," he says, fully realizing for the first time that he may actually be one step closer. "Oh my god, I think it's working."
"Oh, hell," Angel mutters.
- - -
After mulling over it for a couple of days, Bradley concludes that yes, this indie thing really is working on Colin, but the reason they're not having sex right now, besides that Colin has work, is because he wasn't indie enough. Colin must really go for the whole coffee-shop-hobo thing. The only problem is, he doesn't know how to make himself more like one of those people.
"Angel," he says when she picks up with an irritated what is it, Bradley. "Angel, I need to become more indie."
"Maybe if you didn't wear brand clothes?" Angel suggests.
"Something that doesn't involve me having to go shopping, please," Bradley says.
"I don't know," Angel sighs. "How about... I don't know. Music. There's nothing nicer than a man who can sing you music."
"Angel," Bradley says fervently, "you're a genius. I take back every bad thing I've ever said about you."
"You'll just say them again when you're annoyed," Angel points out.
"This is true," Bradley says. "But now you know I don't mean it."
"Just tell Colin I'm sorry," Angel says before she hangs up, which is totally unwarranted, because Colin is going to fucking love Bradley playing guitar and singing for him.
The problem with the guitar is it's nothing like playing Guitar Hero, which Bradley is good at and picked up pretty quickly. No, this is complicated and there are chords to memorize. Plus his fingers are tender and hurt all the time. He would call Angel back and tell her he lied and actually hates her, but his fingers hurt too much to dial her number. Still, guitar isn't as difficult and painful as not sleeping with Colin, so he supposes it's worth it.
- - -
It takes forever for Bradley to convince Colin to come back to his flat after the BAFTA thing. First they had to wait until Katie was done waving her sword around, then they had to sign things, then Katie was just dying for sushi and Colin wanted to go with her because apparently there was nothing remotely exotic to eat in the wastelands of Scotland, and then Bradley had to wheedle a lot whenever Katie went to the bathroom, otherwise she'd make comments about how eager he was to get Colin alone, which would ruin the entire point. The point is, he and Colin are supposed to hang out watching movies, and then Bradley's going to casually mention he learned some guitar, which is supposed to lead to Colin asking about the guitar, and then Bradley's supposed to serenade him, and then they're supposed to have sex. And Colin's not supposed to know the plan involves sex.
Except Bradley's been waiting for hours and Colin's finally in his flat looking all... Colin-y, and the first thing Bradley says before even "want me to take your coat" is "I can play guitar now!"
"Really?" Colin asks, smiling at him and shrugging out of his jacket, which Bradley takes and hangs up because he was raised right.
"Yeah," he says. "I thought..." that maybe it would make you sleep with me. "Thought you might think it was cool."
"It is cool," Colin grinned. "Want to put on a little concert for me?"
"Oh," Bradley shrugged, trying to act like this wasn't exactly what he was aiming for. "I dunno, I only know two songs."
"So play me two songs, stop being so mysterious." Colin says, shoving Bradley into the bedroom. "C'mon, get that guitar out."
"So I'm not very good," Bradley warns, sitting by the foot of the bed, Colin perched imperiously on the pillows. "But, uh, the first song, I learned it for you."
"For me?" Colin flashes him a crooked grin.
"Yeah, I thought you'd like it and you know, made me think of you."
"Oh." Colin turned pink all over, that lovely, delicate shade that made Bradley's stomach squirm and caused him to do stupid things like grow a beard and learn the guitar in the first place.
Bradley couldn't play Yellow that fast, which he actually sort of liked, because it made the whole thing sound much more like what he'd hear playing at Starbucks when Katie or Angel dragged him there for one of those ridiculous girly drinks with whipped cream they liked. And he couldn't sing that well, but neither could Chris Martin, so there you go. It was a bit labored sounding, but none of that really mattered, though. What mattered was the way Colin's lips were parted, breathless, the way his eyelashes fluttered a little faster at the important lines so Bradley knew he heard you know I love you so, you know I love you so. Still, he has a weird expression on his face when Bradley's done, and it isn't entirely happy.
"You didn't like it," Bradley says, his heart sinking.
"Well..." Colin's obviously trying to find a polite way out of this.
"I thought you'd like it!" Bradley says. "It's, you know, indie."
Colin makes a choked noise. "Bradley, one, that's Coldplay, do you even know what indie means?"
"I dunno," Bradley shrugs. "Like, sensitive and artistic and stuff." Colin looks at him like he wants to punch Bradley in the face, but won't because Bradley's too stupid to know what he just said. He probably learned that look from Katie.
"Two, you got the words wrong, so it was actually sort of offensive," Colin says finally. "It's your skin unfolds, not that the person's skin and bones."
"Oh," Bradley mutters. "I thought he was singing about Gwyneth Paltrow, so."
"He wrote this song before they met, Bradley," Colin says, only gently now, almost pitying. Bradley wants to crawl under his covers and die.
"Sorry," he says. "I was, uh, trying to give you a bit of a concert."
"Do I want to know the rest of the set list?" Colin asks.
"Just You're The Voice, I didn't really have time to learn more than two songs." Colin blinks at him thoughtfully, lost somewhere in that head of his. "What?"
"Did you learn to play the guitar for me?" Colin asks finally, leaning forward and staring so earnestly that Bradley can't look away from his huge, blue eyes. They're vaguely hypnotic and very, very close to his face.
"Yeah," he chokes out. "Yeah, Col, I do a lot of things for you."
Helpless laughter seems to burble out of Colin, and before Bradley can ask what exactly is so funny about a little bit of devotion, Colin mutters something that sounds a lot like idiot, puts his hands on Bradley's knees, and kisses him.
Bradley freezes for a second, his brain running in a frantic circle of this is really happening and oh my god, is this really happening. Then he lets his eyes close because apparently it really is, apparently all his dreams have come true and those are Colin's lips against his, gentle and smooth with prickle around the edges, tasting of tempura and soy sauce. It's really Colin who sighs when he cups the back of his neck and runs his fingers along the curly ends of his hair, who parts his lips and darts a quick taste. And he knows this because Colin was a really, really amazing kisser in his head, but that's nothing compared to the slippery, glorious mess of the reality that this is Colin, that his plan worked.
"You're such an idiot," Colin whispers against his mouth, nipping at Bradley's lower lip and making him whine. "You didn't need to serenade me."
Perhaps his plan wasn't so great. "Then why'd you kiss me?" Bradley asks.
"Because I'm such an idiot, I thought you weren't interested."
"You are such an idiot," Bradley agrees. "I've been throwing myself at you for at least a year. More like two."
"You throw yourself at everyone," Colin says, which is a little fair. Bradley thinks he's only being nice, but Colin's all weird about social interaction, so who knows.
"I'm only stupid for you," Bradley says, because that part's true. Around everyone else he's maybe dim, but unless he's interested in someone he isn't flat-out brainless the way Colin seems to make him.
Colin makes a noise somewhere between a groan and a chuckle. "Get rid of your guitar," he warns, low and intimate, "get rid of it or I'm gonna break it." It takes a lot of effort not to throw the thing across the room, but instead Bradley places it with care back at the foot of his bed as best he can without moving his face breathing-distance from Colin's. The second he does Colin pounces, pulling Bradley back on the bed and flipping him over, bracketing his face with his long, wiry arms. If Bradley thought Colin was kissing him before, he had no idea what the word meant, how it felt to have Colin pressed hot against him taking him apart with his mouth and putting him back together again, jumbled up and somehow better.
"I wanted," he says (not whines) plaintively, dipping his hands under Colin's shirts. "I really, really... I mean I really..."
"Shh," Colin murmurs. "Shh. Here now."
"Colin," Bradley manages to sigh before Colin catches his lips for more dizzy kisses, the kind that make Bradley feel like a teenager and think strange thoughts like where are my toes, because they're tingling in a way that may not be healthy now and he can't be bothered to do anything about it.
- - -
"It is skin and bones'," Bradley says when he brings Colin waffles drenched in maple syrup the next morning.
"What?" Colin asks, turning over and smiling at him. He's even more wonderful than the million times Bradley's seen him pale from sleep and drowning under his massive case of bedhead, because now it belongs to him, all of it.
"I googled the lyrics on Coldplay's official site," Bradley says, putting the waffles aside. They're better when they really soak, anyway. Maybe Colin will eat them off him later. He'd be okay with that. "I was right."
"Congratulations." Colin stretches and sighs, smiling at Bradey, eyes barely open under still sleepy eyelids. "And good morning."
"Morning," Bradley automatically replies, getting a strange sense of deja vu, looking down at Colin the same way he always does when they fall asleep in the same place, only this time Colin's got a developing hickey on his collarbone and is naked and under Bradley's duvet and Bradley, presumably, can do anything he likes to him, like lean down and kiss his sleep-bitter mouth, then again, and again, lazy and slow and going nowhere in a hurry.
"Fuck, Bradley, the song's stuck in my head now," Colin grumbles in between kisses. "I hate you."
"C'mon, you know you love me so," Bradley croons, pushing the duvet off Colin so he can blanket him with his body completely, and one side of Colin's mouth quirks up.
"I know," Colin agrees. "I know."
- - -
Colin's... something. Bradley doesn't quite know how to describe Colin's energy after they leave the Paul O'Grady show. Weird. Somewhere between angry and restless, like a pacing animal in a cage. It's enough to replace Bradley's new, giddy joy at doing everything new with Colin for the first time. (First time kissing on this couch! His brain likes to supply at odd moments. Or more inconveniently, first time getting coffee as a couple!, which means he has to drink his scalding hot coffee and burn his mouth, since the alternative is plastering himself to Colin's side and kissing him from sheer joy.) Now first public appearance together while secretly dating!. Instead, Bradley feels the creeping sense of what he hates abut new relationships, especially with someone you really like, where you're convinced that any second the entire thing's going to be snatched from you, because the relationship's so brand new you don't know how far you can test and stretch it before it breaks.
When they get back to Colin's flat, Colin waits until Bradley's shrugged out of his coat before blocking him in the corner, Bradley's back against a layer of wool.
"What," he says in a husky voice that shoots directly to Bradley's groin, which may be inappropriate considering Colin might actually punch him, "were you doing there?"
"Taking off my coat?" Bradley says weakly.
"You touched me on the show," Colin says, standing just far away that he's purposefully and teasingly not touching Bradley, but Bradley can feel his body heat and smell him and oh, it's hard not to just reach out and perform lewd acts upon his person. "When you grabbed my shoulder. You did it on purpose."
Bradley's mouth goes dry. He hadn't even really thought about that, the sneaking of his fingers under one of Colin's too-big collars, the quick circles he'd drawn where the camera couldn't see. He hadn't meant to tease exactly, more been giddy on the fact that he could when he'd wanted to for so long, but he wasn't telling Colin that. "I have no idea what you mean, Colin" he says, raising his chin in a challenge.
Colin doesn't often use his extra height to his advantage, too busy slouching in ways that would make Bradley's mum wring her hands, but he's using it now, bearing down on Bradley and barely a breath away from him. "I'm onto you, James," he breathes. "I know how you like to turn me on on national TV."
"I have no idea what you're talking about," Bradley says, hoping Colin didn't noticethat his voice just cracked, or that his eyes were being traitorous and fluttering closed and his knees felt weak and his stomach was doing mad leaps. Colin wasn't breaking up with him, oh God, Colin was turned on from that tiny little touch and this was going to be really, really good. As if hearing his thoughts, Colin huffed out a little laugh.
"Liar," he hisses, and then crushes his mouth against Bradley and pulling him so close there's nowhere they aren't touching. Instantly Bradley's hands rise and tangle in Colin's hair, thumb stroking soothing motions against the shell of Colin's ear. He's sensitive there, and normally Bradley would pull away to explore with is mouth, but he doesn't want to stop tasting Colin's scratchy upper lip or pouty lower one. He didn't realize his thumbs would work quite as well as his mouth, but soon Colin's shivering against him, making soft, needy noises that Bradley swallows, all the fight gone out of him.
"You drive me crazy," Colin whispers, pulling away to drop a kiss on the side of Bradley's mouth, then his chin, then up a cheek slowly and at the corners of his eyes. His hands are hot and possessive under Bradley's shirt, stroking back and forth along the small of his back. "Always teasing."
"It isn't teasing if you mean it," Bradley says, replacing his left thumb with his mouth. "And I never tease. Not you."
"Liar."
"Well," Bradley amends, pressing kiss to Colin's earlobe, which makes him squeak delightfully. "Not about this."
- - -
Instead of saying "Hello," when she rings Angel says "You're an idiot," the second he picks up.
"Did you wake me up to tell me that?" Bradley asks, moving reluctantly away from his very nice, very warm Colin-shaped pillow.
"First of all," Angel goes on, "You've taken that dressing like a hobo thing too far. Scale it back, for goodness sake. Even Colin knows how to use an iron."
"Thanks, Mum." Bradley's mother hadn't actually called him to tell him that yet, but he'd probably hear about it next time she rang for something else.
"Two, thanks for telling me you and Colin were together, by the way, I had to find out from watching."
"How did you know?" He hisses, walking to the doorway so he won't wake Colin.
" I think everyone in the entire world knows now," Angel says. "You were practically peeing on him to mark your territory."
"I did nothing of the kind," Bradley snorts. "That was very normal behavior for me during an interview."
"It's not normal for you to sit so close, or for Colin to look at you like that, or for you to put your hands all over him." Angel sounds like she's rolling her eyes over the phone, which is a skill all girls seem to have and Bradley has no idea how they do it. Still, his brain's caught on something she said.
"Colin looked at me like what?" He asks slowly.
"The way he's been looking at you since you two got back from Wales," Angel adopts that fond and disgusting tone girls always do when they talk about Colin, like he's a particularly inept puppy. "Like, like... I don't know, Bradley. Like you look at him."
Bradley tries to talk around his heart which has inconveniently crawled into to his throat, watching Colin stirring gently in sleep, naked on top of the blankets. He's probably cold. Bradley's also probably gazing at him like an idiot, and if Colin looks at him like that while he thinks Bradley isn't watching... "Oh," he says softly.
"So I think you can shave now," Angel says. "Please. For everyone."
"I dunno," Bradley strokes it, watching Colin's eyelids flutter open and smile at Bradley, so soft and satisfied and fond, like he's been looking at Bradley for forever, like Bradley looks at him, and Bradley thinks fuck, I'm an idiot. "It's been so useful."
"Oh, hell," Angel mutters.
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: Colin/Bradley
Warnings: Pining, oh so much pining! Other than that, fluffier than fluffy kittens.
Disclaimer: If I owned Bradley James and Colin Morgan, they'd be living next door to me and we'd be BFF. Since we aren't, it can be assumed I own nothing, including every song I mention.
Summary: In which Bradley attempts to become indie, if only he knew what indie was.
Notes: HAPPY BIRTHDAY thisissirius!!!! Originally I was going to draw something for Siri's birthday, which I did, but I thought it turned out heinous beyond all measure. So instead, I pushed myself to finish this fic I've been teasing everyone with in time for her birthday, which it still is on this side of the Atlantic.
This fic started as an image in my brain and grew disproportionately large, as fic is wont to do, though it didn't turn epic! Hurrah! Thanks goes to the usual suspects, but especially to social_retard86, who brainstormed pretty much every good song in this fic and helped me decide on Bradley's hilarious bad 80's musical fixation.
Also, no porn, because I wanted to actually finish this thing, and also because I refuse to give into fandom pressure to always have sex scenes. THAT'S RIGHT, FANDOM, I'M STANDING UP TO YOU. THIS IS ME, ASSERTING MY POWER.
The thing about Colin Morgan is - well. There are a lot of things about Colin. He's brilliant and he makes Bradley laugh and then makes his chest ache with painful and overwhelming adoration. He's so fucking, goddamned sexy, too, like the hottest person Bradley's ever met, and Bradley's in the entertainment business so he meets a lot of unnaturally attractive people. Even before Bradley was helplessly infatuated with Colin, he'd look at him and think, Christ, that mouth's too fucking pretty to be real, or he'd jerk off just thinking about Colin's hands, his thin, strong, pale hands running up and down Bradley's body and touching him everywhere.
Bradley would really like it if Colin would please just touch him everywhere. He isn't repulsive, so that's not too much to ask, right?
So Bradley wasn't totally enamored with Colin the first time they met, or the second, but he is now, which is the important part. In fact, he's so enamored that he finds himself heading home to Devon for a weekend to be comforted by his mother of all the ridiculous things. He's a fully-grown man, and yet he finds himself sitting at the kitchen table yelling hysterically while his mother soothes him and plies him with tea sympathetically like he's some sort of teenager again, saying things like "there, there" and "one day you'll find love, don't you worry", and whatever other platitudes mothers store up to use when they have to lie to their children.
That weekend is the final straw. Bradley refuses to ever be that pathetic over Colin Morgan again, which he figures can only happen one of two ways:
One: he learns that Colin is, in fact, a wizard who has placed a spell on him, and he finds an antidote, fast.
Two: he kisses Colin and then that leads to fucking him (or he can be the one being fucked, as long as it's Colin, it's a moot point really). And then they cuddle and do it all over again, in every various combination, and Bradley gets to rub his face and mouth along all of Colin's pale, lovely skin, and then Colin graciously agrees to go out with him, which leads to them of course getting married, and then they adopt Cambodian babies, because his mum wants grandchildren. (Though Bradley is willing to negotiate on the nationality of their gay babies, because he's always heard the best plans have some wiggle room.)
Plan two is clearly the superior one, since it involves Bradley and Colin having sex with each other, except there is the stumbling block of Bradley not knowing how to set it in motion, exactly, and therein lies his problem. He's tried a lot of things, too. First he tried subtle flirting, because he figured Colin would appreciate subtlety, but that seemed to go straight over his head. So then Bradley tried overtly flirting, from shamelessly propositioning Colin to complimenting everything (his acting, his cheekbones, his ratty hoodies). Colin seems to find that all mildly humorous and just laughs it off as Bradley either being friendly or taking the piss.
"I am full of anguish," Bradley says to Angel while they wait for the camera tracks to be laid down. He had already tried talking to Katie, but she gave him a lot of unhelpful looks and poorly contained laughter. "It's like, it's absolute agony, is what it is. I'm in a pit of despair."
"Are you talking about Colin again?" Angel asks vaguely, looking up from her crossword.
"No, Angel," he says dryly, "I'm talking about the other parts of my life that are filled with anguish and despair."
"Bradley, just tell him you like him," Angel sighs, putting down her pencil. "I'm sure you can manage that."
"I did," Bradley says miserably. "And then he laughed, punched me in the arm, and asked what I thought would be for lunch."
"Oh." Angel blinks a few times. "Well, maybe that's because you tease him so much, he doesn't know you're being serious."
"So what am I supposed to do, go back in time and untease him?"
"Well," she says brightly, "at least this will help you as inspiration for our scenes where you're supposed to be pining?"
"You're unhelpful," Bradley tells her. "Also, a hussy."
"Takes one to know one," Angel says, picking her crossword back up.
"That was a really good comeback, Angel," Bradley says snidely, and un-invites her to his and Colin's future big gay wedding.
- - -
When Bradley was in drama school, he had to take voice lessons with a crazy old guy named Dudley Moore who was gay as a row of pink tents and liked to talk about the power of song a lot.
"You laugh, boys!" he would trill, looking through his perfectly round little glasses at the row of uncomfortable chortling straight boys who had never sung a note in their life and, like Bradley, thought acting was cool because you got paid to make moves on girls and it didn't involve being stuck in an office. "But there's no surer way to someone's heart than through the power of song!" Bradley had gotten laid quite a few times by that logic, so he figured it was an excellent plan to try on Colin, since nothing else would work, and since Colin had been really into that whole You're the Voice thing.
So Bradley starts singing around Colin more. He doesn't have the greatest voice, but he can hold a tune, and it makes Colin laugh to be told to get on set to the tune of Come On Eileen ("Come on Col-een! You're needed on set in fifteen! So wake up! And get over there!")
"That was an appeal to your Irish roots," Bradley tells Colin seriously, when he's done laughing. "I'm glad you liked it."
"Very clever rhyme scheme," Colin nods, clapping Bradley on the shoulder, which makes Bradley's insides feel like they've turned pleasurably into liquid. His plan is clearly genius. Next he tries songs that are in his falsetto, because sense of humor is also important when you're setting about to woo someone, especially if you're Bradley and it's probably the only thing you've got going for you. Total Eclipse of the Heart is a bit of a failure, because it turns out that the music video gives Colin nightmares, but Bradley trying to hit the high note in Take On Me makes him laugh until he cries. Which Bradley considers a win until it turns out the crying made Colin's makeup run, and then everyone gets really annoyed at him, plus Angel says it gives her a headache to hear Bradley sing like that, so he's ordered to put the falsetto away.
Undaunted, Bradley decides that Every Little Thing She Does Is Magic is the perfect song with which to woo Colin, because of the irony, and also because every lyric fits perfectly. He starts humming it around Colin under his breath, which makes Colin give a little amused huff, looking at Bradley with crinkly eyes that make Bradley's knees feel weak. Then Bradley starts putting it on in the car all the time when they're driving to set, looking at Colin extremely pointedly while he pretends to be Sting, but after a while Colin stops finding it cute and starts groaning loudly and threatening to kill Bradley if he sings the song one more time.
It's clearly time to bring out the big guns.
"Colin!" Bradley says loudly, bursting into their trailer, "Colin, I have a song to sing for you!"
"If it's Every Little Thing again, I'm punching you in the face." Colin doesn't look up from Bradley's iPhone, which he's probably stolen to play Bejewled on. He's become completely addicted and beaten all of Bradley's high scores in less than a week.
"No, no, listen," Bradley says, but Colin refuses to look up. "Colin, I'm never gonna give you up."
"Okay," Colin says agreeably.
"I'm never gonna let you down," Bradley goes on. He's not very good at singing this low, so it sounds like he's speaking weird, but Colin still won't look up. "I'm never gonna run around and desert you." At this, Colin looks up and gives Bradley a slow, sweet smile and Bradley thinks excitedly yes, yes, he finally gets it.
"You're rickrolling me!" Colin says, bursting into hysterical laughter. "You're actually in-person rickrolling me."
"What?" Bradley asks. "I mean, yeah. Obviously."
"Good one," Colin says, and then checks the clock. "Ah, fuck, gotta go back on set, see you."
"Bye," Bradley says miserably, and collapses on the couch when Colin leaves, groaning loudly.
Dudley Moore was clearly a liar.
- - -
Angel is very unhelpful about Bradley's anguish, since she's still mad about the falsetto and having Sting in her head for two weeks straight, so he calls Katie and actually waits until she's finished laughing instead of hanging up on her.
"Maybe," Katie says when she's finished giggling hysterically, "maybe you should try for something a little more... Colin-ish."
"Oh god, you're completely useless," Bradley groans.
"What I meant," Katie says with a touch of impatience, "is that bad eighties music is more your style. Maybe to get Colin to notice you, you have to be more his style."
"I don't think I can pull off Colin's style," Bradley said. Colin's style, as far as he can tell, is a unstudied nerdy hipster sort of non-style that incidentally happened to be sort of stylish by some genius stroke of luck. Bradley was pretty sure you were born with that style, since trying would sort of ruin the whole nonchalant effect.
"Well, then I suppose you're doomed to be alone forever," Katie says with merciless cheer. "Oh look, I'm needed on set. Bye."
"You're unhelpful," Bradley informs the click and dead silence. "Also, a heartless hussy. Do you hear me, Katie? Heartless."
The phone does not respond.
- - -
Filming comes to an end and Bradley is no closer to sleeping with Colin than before, and fresh out of plans or sympathy. Bradley wraps his last scene and then hugs Colin a little tighter, holds on a little longer than he normally would. The next few weeks without Colin is going to involve a lot of lonely wanking, and for that he needs the memory of how Colin's body feels against his, wiry and strong, how delicious Colin smells, so much that Bradley wants to just turn into a cat and rub all over him, and that heart-pounding feeling of knowing if he turned his head just so, he could kiss Colin.
"I'll be back before you know it," Colin soothes. "And then we're going on a roadtrip, yeah?"
"Yeah," Bradley says glumly, giving Colin one last squeeze before letting him go.
Once Colin's gone Bradley lets himself sink into a pit of utter despair, watching Labyrinth and Moulin Rouge and stuffing his face with crisps and not showering, wondering why when Ewan McGregor sings, he gets attention, and Bradley gets things thrown at him. On the third day, his mother unplugs the telly.
"Mum!" He yelps, looking at her with utter betrayal. "I was wallowing."
"You stink," his mother says, arms akimbo and not giving an inch. "You'll get your telly back when you shower and shave so you don't look like those kids who hang around the coffee shop listening to strange music and dressing like they're homeless."
"I do not - " Bradley begins, and then his eyes widen. "You really think I look like those kids at the coffee shop?"
"What, is this a new fashion now you're not telling me about?" His mother asks, raising her eyebrow in a disturbingly Richard-esque manner. "Because I raised you better than to look homeless, Bradley."
"Mum," Bradley breathes, standing up and sending the pretzels he was eating off his stomach to the floor, which he ignores in favor of enveloping his mother in a massive hug. "Mum, you're a genius."
"That's lovely," his mother says, shoving him away. "Now for the love of God, shower."
"I'm not shaving," he warns her. "The beard is going to help me win Colin over."
His mother makes a suspicious choking noise before schooling her expression back to utter neutrality. "So you discovered that Colin's attracted to men with pubic hair growing out of their face, then?" she asks. Bradley tries not to have a violent reaction at his mother using the phrase 'pubic hair'.
"No," he says scathingly. "Colin will love me because I'm indie. And cool. And hip."
"Of course, dear," his mother sighs, shoving him out of the den and into the bathroom. "Of course he will."
- - -
Bradley has some healthy scruff going by time he has to drive to Cardiff, and three days mostly alone with Colin while they share hotel rooms (God bless the BBC and their obsessive cheapness, he thinks). There is absolutely no way he won't be seducing the pants off Colin.
He plans how Colin will first see him bearded very carefully, because first impressions, even of facial hair, are important. He knows when Colin's train from Scotland comes in and how long it will take him to get to the hotel so he plans when he will be lounging artfully, tight white t-shirt rucked up just so, so there's a sliver of skin to tease, lamplight soft on his mussed hair, bare feet peeking out from his jeans as he thoughtfully reads the provided guidebooks on Wales. He's going to look like some sort of literary nerd wet dream.
Only Colin doesn't seem particularly plussed when he comes in, just goes "Bradley!" the same way he always does and pulls him into a friendly hug. He doesn't even mention the beard until they're eating dinner and he's already asked about Bradley's family and exchanged some cast gossip and told Bradley about the few days of filming he'd been doing in Mull.
"You auditioning for Shakespeare?" He asks during a lull, buttering up a roll and popping a bit into his mouth.
"What? No," Bradley says, confused. "Why?"
"You have the, you know," Colin waves in his general mouth area. "You've the look going for you now."
"Oh, no, I, uh." Bradley stumbles on the explanation. He hadn't really thought he'd need one. The only time it had come up in his head was the scenario where Colin was naked, looking up at him starry-eyed and going "oh, Bradley, did you grow that for me?" and Bradley would say (in his deep, manly voice), "yes, yes of course," and then there would be a great deal of sex. "Just trying something new."
"Cool," Colin nods. "It's nice not to have to shave, yeah?"
"Yeah," Bradley says. "It's nice."
That night, when Colin's breathing heavily in his bed, face creased and visible to Bradley from the dim streetlight coming through the gap in the curtains, Bradley watches him miserably, unable to sleep. Did he miscalculate, he wonders? What if all this time, Colin really hasn't been interested? How's he going to survive this roadtrip? He feels - not sad, really, or depressed, because when he gets to watch Colin sleep, it's impossible to be really depressed. He feels slightly achy, like he's just run up a flight of stairs top speed in his full armor or been whacked at by Andreas for twenty-four hours straight. He wishes he could just fucking say what he's thinking, except he's never going to have the courage to turn to Colin and go, I grew this beard for you. I'd do anything, be anyone for you. I love you so much that I don't know what to do with myself. Please, please, please love me back.
With a sigh, he moves to the side of the bed away from Colin and turns his back to him, pulling up the blankets and trying to believe that all he needs is time, and by the end of the roadtrip Colin will be naked next to him, and everything will have been worth it.
- - -
Bradley tries really, really hard to let Colin be when it comes to music on the trip. If he's indie, now, he's going to have to put up with whatever weird band Colin pulls up on his iPod and bops along to, shooting Bradley a hopeful grin. One album, he's fine with. Two albums is stretching his patience to the maximum.
"Okay, no," he says when Colin starts up something else that sounds deeply weird. "I listened to whatever that last thing was - "
"That was Belle & Sebastian," Colin says sadly. "They aren't weird."
"But I am not listening to another one of your bizarre CDs."
"A lot of people like Death Cab for Cutie," Colin says.
"Will you just..." Bradley reaches into his pocket and takes out his iPod, which actually has room to hold music in it. "Here. We agree on what's on this, just put it on shuffle, will you?"
"Fine," Colin mutters, switching out his iPod for Bradley's. They spend the next twenty minutes humming along to much more pleasurable music, like The Cure and David Bowie.
"Okay, this is nicer," Colin admits.
"Told you," Bradley says. He sort of spaces out for a bit until a very familiar little autotune starts playing. "Skip that one," he says quickly.
"Why -" Colin begins, but then his lips curve into a shit-eating grin the second the voice comes on. "Bradley, do you have Lady Gaga on your iPod?"
"Angel put it on there," Bradley grumbles, shifting gears and drumming his fingers along, which Colin of course catches.
"But you're enjoying it!" he crows. "I bet you know all the words."
"It's catchy," Bradley says evasively, not answering the question.
"Oh, look, you've got the entire album here," Colin says, scrolling through Bradley's iPod. "Wow, how much did Angel put on here, anyway?"
"Give me that," Bradley says, snatching his iPod away. At least he'd deleted the Girls Aloud.
"It's okay to want some love and to want some revenge," Colin goes on, because he's an arse. "You and Angel could write a bad romance."
"I hate you," Bradley tells Colin. But mostly he hates himself and his iPod for ruining everything.
- - -
Here are some things Bradley learns on the roadtrip he does not divulge to the cameramen:
One: Colin is really fucking adorable with his map and attempts at navigation, but also completely useless. It would be easier if Bradley just took the map, but Colin loves it and carries it in his back pocket at all times and writes little notes on it when they stop for meals, poring over books and circling towns they should visit on their own one day, maybe bring Katie and Angel, he says, and Bradley doesn't have the heart to take that map even though maybe he should.
Two: Even though there are shorter routes and Bradley's pretty sure he could figure them out on his own, when Colin's looking at him with big, blue eyes going "I thought it would be nice if we could see a bit of Welsh countryside, you and me", it's sort of romantic and Bradley's helpless to say no.
Three: Colin is a wonderful travel-mate. Besides those playlists he made for them to listen to the night after the Lady Gaga incident, he knows when to be silent and when to talk, and he isn't like Bradley's sister, asking to stop to pee every five seconds.
Four: So maybe Bradley botched his indie thing with the whole Lady Gaga thing, and maybe he never does anything more illicit than bump Colin's elbow or knee a lot, or tangle their fingers "accidentally" when they're both reaching for crisps, but when Colin smiles at him so openly with so much affection, when Colin falls asleep in Bradley's bed and Bradley doesn't move him, just dozes next to him with his knuckles oh-so-casually brushing Colin's stomach in a way that looks like a mistake but really is a ploy to feel Colin's gentle breathing, he's never been happier.
And it's almost enough.
- - -
Neither he nor Colin are particularly eager for the idyllic pace of the roadtrip to end. For Colin it means being thrown face-first into some heavily emotional scenes he needs to re-shoot, and for Bradley it means moping around London and seeing how long it takes before Angel loses her patience with him and does him some sort of bodily harm.
"I say we run into the Welsh countryside where no one can find us," Colin suggests with an air of helplessness. "Become Arthurian fact-seeking hobos. Camp out in the library and live off curry take-away."
"It'll never work," Bradley says gloomily, staring at the gridlock on an appropriately appropriate rain-soaked and gloomy that had been threatening to fall on them all of yesterday in Caerleon. "Don't you get a tracking device planted in your arse when you sign up to work at the Beeb?"
"Memory drugs," Colin says serenely. "They're tricky bastards."
"Of course," Bradley nods. "How could I forget the memory-erasing drugs."
Colin smiles at him, but it's close-mouthed and anemic, and he quickly breaks eye contact to fiddle with Bradley's iPod, resting on the console between them still. They're silent all the way to the train station, while they unpack Colin's bag and Bradley walks him to the door.
"So," he says awkwardly. "I guess this is your stop."
"Yeah," Colin says sadly, stuffing his hands in his pockets and rocking back and forth.
"Well, come here then," Bradley says, and pulls Colin into a hug. He feels Colin go limp against him with a sigh, arms tight around Bradley's waist. He thinks he feels Colin snuffle a little, right behind his ear, like he wants to bury himself there and never leave, but it's probably just heinous projection on his part. "You'll call," he says out loud, not sure if he's re-assuring Colin or himself.
"It's less than a month," Colin agrees. He squeezes tight and then lets go, picking up his bag and heading to the door.
Bradley feels like part of his heart's been ripped out of his chest and he's watching it walk away, like this is every stupid romantic movie cliche, which is why he finds himself calling out, "Col!"
Colin turns around with a quizzical smile. "Yeah?"
"I..." the words catch in Bradley's throat. Say it, you bastard, he thinks. Just fucking say it. Do it. C'mon, do it. Colin's eyes are on him, bright and he just can't, because what if Colin never looks at him like that again? "...I'm gonna miss you."
"Yeah," Colin smiles, still a little sad. "I'll miss you too."
Bradley watches Colin walk away, kicking himself. It would have been so perfect, if he could have just said something. Colin looked kind of hopeful, didn't he? What if Colin had wanted it, he thinks as he opens his car door and collapses, closing his eyes and scrubbing his face. What if he could have finally kissed Colin, gotten everything he ever wanted? What if he's fucked up, yet again? What if all this time...
Bradley's phone goes off, interrupting his thoughts. Turn on your ipod, Colin's text reads. Confused, Bradley presses play, and then snorts when Lady Gaga comes on. I want your everything as long as it's free, she sings. I want your love, I want your love love love, I want your love. Bradley doesn't know if he should laugh or cry.
ur such a twat he texts Colin instead.
haha :) Colin says.
- - -
"What," Angel says flatly, when she finally finds her way into the signing and takes off her coat, "is that."
"This is my iPhone," Bradley says slowly, waving it at her. "I'm playing a game called Bejeweled, you may have heard of it." He doesn't tell her that he's trying to beat all of Colin's high scores and so far he's only beat his lowest on the scoreboard. Colin's some sort of Bejeweled zen master.
"I meant on your face."
"This," Bradley says, stroking it lovingly, "is my indie beard."
"Is this another one of your ploys to sleep with Colin?" Angel sighs in an intensely long-suffering manner. "Because if you're trying to be more indie, it won't work when you're wearing an Abercrombie & Fitch shirt."
"Hey," Bradley says feelingly. "I can be indie."
"Right," Angel says, rolling her eyes. "How did that work for you on the Wales trip?"
Bradley thinks about how much Colin smiled at him, about the hug, about leaving Bad Romance on his iPod and how often he called from Mull, about how when Bradley woke up that night they fell asleep together Colin's hand was clenched in his shirt. "I think it might be working," he says, fully realizing for the first time that he may actually be one step closer. "Oh my god, I think it's working."
"Oh, hell," Angel mutters.
- - -
After mulling over it for a couple of days, Bradley concludes that yes, this indie thing really is working on Colin, but the reason they're not having sex right now, besides that Colin has work, is because he wasn't indie enough. Colin must really go for the whole coffee-shop-hobo thing. The only problem is, he doesn't know how to make himself more like one of those people.
"Angel," he says when she picks up with an irritated what is it, Bradley. "Angel, I need to become more indie."
"Maybe if you didn't wear brand clothes?" Angel suggests.
"Something that doesn't involve me having to go shopping, please," Bradley says.
"I don't know," Angel sighs. "How about... I don't know. Music. There's nothing nicer than a man who can sing you music."
"Angel," Bradley says fervently, "you're a genius. I take back every bad thing I've ever said about you."
"You'll just say them again when you're annoyed," Angel points out.
"This is true," Bradley says. "But now you know I don't mean it."
"Just tell Colin I'm sorry," Angel says before she hangs up, which is totally unwarranted, because Colin is going to fucking love Bradley playing guitar and singing for him.
The problem with the guitar is it's nothing like playing Guitar Hero, which Bradley is good at and picked up pretty quickly. No, this is complicated and there are chords to memorize. Plus his fingers are tender and hurt all the time. He would call Angel back and tell her he lied and actually hates her, but his fingers hurt too much to dial her number. Still, guitar isn't as difficult and painful as not sleeping with Colin, so he supposes it's worth it.
- - -
It takes forever for Bradley to convince Colin to come back to his flat after the BAFTA thing. First they had to wait until Katie was done waving her sword around, then they had to sign things, then Katie was just dying for sushi and Colin wanted to go with her because apparently there was nothing remotely exotic to eat in the wastelands of Scotland, and then Bradley had to wheedle a lot whenever Katie went to the bathroom, otherwise she'd make comments about how eager he was to get Colin alone, which would ruin the entire point. The point is, he and Colin are supposed to hang out watching movies, and then Bradley's going to casually mention he learned some guitar, which is supposed to lead to Colin asking about the guitar, and then Bradley's supposed to serenade him, and then they're supposed to have sex. And Colin's not supposed to know the plan involves sex.
Except Bradley's been waiting for hours and Colin's finally in his flat looking all... Colin-y, and the first thing Bradley says before even "want me to take your coat" is "I can play guitar now!"
"Really?" Colin asks, smiling at him and shrugging out of his jacket, which Bradley takes and hangs up because he was raised right.
"Yeah," he says. "I thought..." that maybe it would make you sleep with me. "Thought you might think it was cool."
"It is cool," Colin grinned. "Want to put on a little concert for me?"
"Oh," Bradley shrugged, trying to act like this wasn't exactly what he was aiming for. "I dunno, I only know two songs."
"So play me two songs, stop being so mysterious." Colin says, shoving Bradley into the bedroom. "C'mon, get that guitar out."
"So I'm not very good," Bradley warns, sitting by the foot of the bed, Colin perched imperiously on the pillows. "But, uh, the first song, I learned it for you."
"For me?" Colin flashes him a crooked grin.
"Yeah, I thought you'd like it and you know, made me think of you."
"Oh." Colin turned pink all over, that lovely, delicate shade that made Bradley's stomach squirm and caused him to do stupid things like grow a beard and learn the guitar in the first place.
Bradley couldn't play Yellow that fast, which he actually sort of liked, because it made the whole thing sound much more like what he'd hear playing at Starbucks when Katie or Angel dragged him there for one of those ridiculous girly drinks with whipped cream they liked. And he couldn't sing that well, but neither could Chris Martin, so there you go. It was a bit labored sounding, but none of that really mattered, though. What mattered was the way Colin's lips were parted, breathless, the way his eyelashes fluttered a little faster at the important lines so Bradley knew he heard you know I love you so, you know I love you so. Still, he has a weird expression on his face when Bradley's done, and it isn't entirely happy.
"You didn't like it," Bradley says, his heart sinking.
"Well..." Colin's obviously trying to find a polite way out of this.
"I thought you'd like it!" Bradley says. "It's, you know, indie."
Colin makes a choked noise. "Bradley, one, that's Coldplay, do you even know what indie means?"
"I dunno," Bradley shrugs. "Like, sensitive and artistic and stuff." Colin looks at him like he wants to punch Bradley in the face, but won't because Bradley's too stupid to know what he just said. He probably learned that look from Katie.
"Two, you got the words wrong, so it was actually sort of offensive," Colin says finally. "It's your skin unfolds, not that the person's skin and bones."
"Oh," Bradley mutters. "I thought he was singing about Gwyneth Paltrow, so."
"He wrote this song before they met, Bradley," Colin says, only gently now, almost pitying. Bradley wants to crawl under his covers and die.
"Sorry," he says. "I was, uh, trying to give you a bit of a concert."
"Do I want to know the rest of the set list?" Colin asks.
"Just You're The Voice, I didn't really have time to learn more than two songs." Colin blinks at him thoughtfully, lost somewhere in that head of his. "What?"
"Did you learn to play the guitar for me?" Colin asks finally, leaning forward and staring so earnestly that Bradley can't look away from his huge, blue eyes. They're vaguely hypnotic and very, very close to his face.
"Yeah," he chokes out. "Yeah, Col, I do a lot of things for you."
Helpless laughter seems to burble out of Colin, and before Bradley can ask what exactly is so funny about a little bit of devotion, Colin mutters something that sounds a lot like idiot, puts his hands on Bradley's knees, and kisses him.
Bradley freezes for a second, his brain running in a frantic circle of this is really happening and oh my god, is this really happening. Then he lets his eyes close because apparently it really is, apparently all his dreams have come true and those are Colin's lips against his, gentle and smooth with prickle around the edges, tasting of tempura and soy sauce. It's really Colin who sighs when he cups the back of his neck and runs his fingers along the curly ends of his hair, who parts his lips and darts a quick taste. And he knows this because Colin was a really, really amazing kisser in his head, but that's nothing compared to the slippery, glorious mess of the reality that this is Colin, that his plan worked.
"You're such an idiot," Colin whispers against his mouth, nipping at Bradley's lower lip and making him whine. "You didn't need to serenade me."
Perhaps his plan wasn't so great. "Then why'd you kiss me?" Bradley asks.
"Because I'm such an idiot, I thought you weren't interested."
"You are such an idiot," Bradley agrees. "I've been throwing myself at you for at least a year. More like two."
"You throw yourself at everyone," Colin says, which is a little fair. Bradley thinks he's only being nice, but Colin's all weird about social interaction, so who knows.
"I'm only stupid for you," Bradley says, because that part's true. Around everyone else he's maybe dim, but unless he's interested in someone he isn't flat-out brainless the way Colin seems to make him.
Colin makes a noise somewhere between a groan and a chuckle. "Get rid of your guitar," he warns, low and intimate, "get rid of it or I'm gonna break it." It takes a lot of effort not to throw the thing across the room, but instead Bradley places it with care back at the foot of his bed as best he can without moving his face breathing-distance from Colin's. The second he does Colin pounces, pulling Bradley back on the bed and flipping him over, bracketing his face with his long, wiry arms. If Bradley thought Colin was kissing him before, he had no idea what the word meant, how it felt to have Colin pressed hot against him taking him apart with his mouth and putting him back together again, jumbled up and somehow better.
"I wanted," he says (not whines) plaintively, dipping his hands under Colin's shirts. "I really, really... I mean I really..."
"Shh," Colin murmurs. "Shh. Here now."
"Colin," Bradley manages to sigh before Colin catches his lips for more dizzy kisses, the kind that make Bradley feel like a teenager and think strange thoughts like where are my toes, because they're tingling in a way that may not be healthy now and he can't be bothered to do anything about it.
- - -
"It is skin and bones'," Bradley says when he brings Colin waffles drenched in maple syrup the next morning.
"What?" Colin asks, turning over and smiling at him. He's even more wonderful than the million times Bradley's seen him pale from sleep and drowning under his massive case of bedhead, because now it belongs to him, all of it.
"I googled the lyrics on Coldplay's official site," Bradley says, putting the waffles aside. They're better when they really soak, anyway. Maybe Colin will eat them off him later. He'd be okay with that. "I was right."
"Congratulations." Colin stretches and sighs, smiling at Bradey, eyes barely open under still sleepy eyelids. "And good morning."
"Morning," Bradley automatically replies, getting a strange sense of deja vu, looking down at Colin the same way he always does when they fall asleep in the same place, only this time Colin's got a developing hickey on his collarbone and is naked and under Bradley's duvet and Bradley, presumably, can do anything he likes to him, like lean down and kiss his sleep-bitter mouth, then again, and again, lazy and slow and going nowhere in a hurry.
"Fuck, Bradley, the song's stuck in my head now," Colin grumbles in between kisses. "I hate you."
"C'mon, you know you love me so," Bradley croons, pushing the duvet off Colin so he can blanket him with his body completely, and one side of Colin's mouth quirks up.
"I know," Colin agrees. "I know."
- - -
Colin's... something. Bradley doesn't quite know how to describe Colin's energy after they leave the Paul O'Grady show. Weird. Somewhere between angry and restless, like a pacing animal in a cage. It's enough to replace Bradley's new, giddy joy at doing everything new with Colin for the first time. (First time kissing on this couch! His brain likes to supply at odd moments. Or more inconveniently, first time getting coffee as a couple!, which means he has to drink his scalding hot coffee and burn his mouth, since the alternative is plastering himself to Colin's side and kissing him from sheer joy.) Now first public appearance together while secretly dating!. Instead, Bradley feels the creeping sense of what he hates abut new relationships, especially with someone you really like, where you're convinced that any second the entire thing's going to be snatched from you, because the relationship's so brand new you don't know how far you can test and stretch it before it breaks.
When they get back to Colin's flat, Colin waits until Bradley's shrugged out of his coat before blocking him in the corner, Bradley's back against a layer of wool.
"What," he says in a husky voice that shoots directly to Bradley's groin, which may be inappropriate considering Colin might actually punch him, "were you doing there?"
"Taking off my coat?" Bradley says weakly.
"You touched me on the show," Colin says, standing just far away that he's purposefully and teasingly not touching Bradley, but Bradley can feel his body heat and smell him and oh, it's hard not to just reach out and perform lewd acts upon his person. "When you grabbed my shoulder. You did it on purpose."
Bradley's mouth goes dry. He hadn't even really thought about that, the sneaking of his fingers under one of Colin's too-big collars, the quick circles he'd drawn where the camera couldn't see. He hadn't meant to tease exactly, more been giddy on the fact that he could when he'd wanted to for so long, but he wasn't telling Colin that. "I have no idea what you mean, Colin" he says, raising his chin in a challenge.
Colin doesn't often use his extra height to his advantage, too busy slouching in ways that would make Bradley's mum wring her hands, but he's using it now, bearing down on Bradley and barely a breath away from him. "I'm onto you, James," he breathes. "I know how you like to turn me on on national TV."
"I have no idea what you're talking about," Bradley says, hoping Colin didn't noticethat his voice just cracked, or that his eyes were being traitorous and fluttering closed and his knees felt weak and his stomach was doing mad leaps. Colin wasn't breaking up with him, oh God, Colin was turned on from that tiny little touch and this was going to be really, really good. As if hearing his thoughts, Colin huffed out a little laugh.
"Liar," he hisses, and then crushes his mouth against Bradley and pulling him so close there's nowhere they aren't touching. Instantly Bradley's hands rise and tangle in Colin's hair, thumb stroking soothing motions against the shell of Colin's ear. He's sensitive there, and normally Bradley would pull away to explore with is mouth, but he doesn't want to stop tasting Colin's scratchy upper lip or pouty lower one. He didn't realize his thumbs would work quite as well as his mouth, but soon Colin's shivering against him, making soft, needy noises that Bradley swallows, all the fight gone out of him.
"You drive me crazy," Colin whispers, pulling away to drop a kiss on the side of Bradley's mouth, then his chin, then up a cheek slowly and at the corners of his eyes. His hands are hot and possessive under Bradley's shirt, stroking back and forth along the small of his back. "Always teasing."
"It isn't teasing if you mean it," Bradley says, replacing his left thumb with his mouth. "And I never tease. Not you."
"Liar."
"Well," Bradley amends, pressing kiss to Colin's earlobe, which makes him squeak delightfully. "Not about this."
- - -
Instead of saying "Hello," when she rings Angel says "You're an idiot," the second he picks up.
"Did you wake me up to tell me that?" Bradley asks, moving reluctantly away from his very nice, very warm Colin-shaped pillow.
"First of all," Angel goes on, "You've taken that dressing like a hobo thing too far. Scale it back, for goodness sake. Even Colin knows how to use an iron."
"Thanks, Mum." Bradley's mother hadn't actually called him to tell him that yet, but he'd probably hear about it next time she rang for something else.
"Two, thanks for telling me you and Colin were together, by the way, I had to find out from watching."
"How did you know?" He hisses, walking to the doorway so he won't wake Colin.
" I think everyone in the entire world knows now," Angel says. "You were practically peeing on him to mark your territory."
"I did nothing of the kind," Bradley snorts. "That was very normal behavior for me during an interview."
"It's not normal for you to sit so close, or for Colin to look at you like that, or for you to put your hands all over him." Angel sounds like she's rolling her eyes over the phone, which is a skill all girls seem to have and Bradley has no idea how they do it. Still, his brain's caught on something she said.
"Colin looked at me like what?" He asks slowly.
"The way he's been looking at you since you two got back from Wales," Angel adopts that fond and disgusting tone girls always do when they talk about Colin, like he's a particularly inept puppy. "Like, like... I don't know, Bradley. Like you look at him."
Bradley tries to talk around his heart which has inconveniently crawled into to his throat, watching Colin stirring gently in sleep, naked on top of the blankets. He's probably cold. Bradley's also probably gazing at him like an idiot, and if Colin looks at him like that while he thinks Bradley isn't watching... "Oh," he says softly.
"So I think you can shave now," Angel says. "Please. For everyone."
"I dunno," Bradley strokes it, watching Colin's eyelids flutter open and smile at Bradley, so soft and satisfied and fond, like he's been looking at Bradley for forever, like Bradley looks at him, and Bradley thinks fuck, I'm an idiot. "It's been so useful."
"Oh, hell," Angel mutters.