Title: You Are Home
Characters/Pairings: Bradley James, Colin Morgan
Rating: very, very K
Word Count: 2596
Summary: Sometimes, somewhere along the way, home becomes a person, instead of a place. Texting fic. Not written as slash, because there are so very many kinds of love in this world besides romantic love.
A/N: I don't usually write RPF, but after watching one too many BTS Merlin home videos, my muse wouldn't let this go. Written purely as fiction, but somehow I don't think Bradley or Colin would mind. It's not slash, and they haven't been exactly discreet about their friendship and affection for each other.
Disclaimer: I don't own Merlin or anything related to BBC. In fact, it's quite the opposite – BBC definitely has a mortgage on me. Or at last on my fangirling heart. Written as a fictional story for fun, and not intended to represent real life events.
"What is standing between you and complete happiness?"
"Distance."
I.
He sat uncomfortably in the dimly lit restaurant, staring blandly at his companion across the tale, and nervously drumming his fingers on one knee. Blinking slowly, the young man stilled the twitching fingers and forced himself to pay attention to the lady's conversation.
Bradley paused, his eyes darting over the young woman's face. She was lovely, he had to admit, with full, pouting red lips and long, dark lashes that fluttered as she spoke. His mind ghosted briefly over the image of kissing those lips, and he smiled, focusing on her words.
"And so my agent called this morning, in the middle of the shoot, wanting me to go to New York next week; but I don't know…. The last time I worked with that agency…." Her voice droned on.
The man's eyes narrowed, forgetting the soft lips. Did the girl talk about nothing but work? It struck him that he had been with the woman all evening, and had not heard her laugh once. His thoughts turned unconsciously to Angel's laugh, head thrown back exuberantly, and to Katie's frequent bouts of giggles, and he grimaced.
With relief, Bradley watched the server approach, extending menus to the couple. Turning his attention to the selections, he tuned the ceaseless chatter out and scoured the menu.
"The salmon looks good," he lifted bright, blue eyes up to smile politely, hoping for a change in subject. "What do you think?"
"I'm a vegan," the young woman answered, her eyes challenging, waiting to see if he would be impressed or condemning.
The man blinked, confusion playing across his face. Why the devil would he care what her life choices were? At the moment, he was more preoccupied with the fact that at the word "vegan", a tight, icy knot had instantly clenched in his stomach.
He ordered their meals, and sat listening vacantly to his date, inwardly swearing eternal vengeance on Eoin, and trying to ignore the weight that had settled on his chest. Concerning, that. The wistful ache had become increasingly familiar lately, and reminded Bradley of nothing more than a time, long in the past, when his parents had sent him to camp one summer, and he had pined for home the entire time. Bradley frowned, sipping his drink. It didn't make any sense; he had a flat in London now, a permanent address and a place to call home, after all those years migrating between Cardiff and Pierrefonds. Exeter and Jacksonville had long ceased to be home in his mind. The young man's thoughts were jarred as his mobile vibrated.
Slipping the phone surreptitiously out of his pocket, he laid the mobile on one knee, and tapped the screen. A text message bubble popped up, and a grin flitted across his face.
James. You awake, mate?
Bradley glanced furtively up at his companion, who was occupied at the moment, spritzing her salad with a lemon wedge.
Yep. On a date. Having dinner.
Reeeaally? Do I know this one?
No, blind date. Going to kill Eoin.
*snort* that bad, huh?
She's a model. Talks non-stop. AND she's a vegan. You know how those vegetarian nutters are….
Excuse me?!
Bradley snorted, then his eyes darted up in alarm. The young woman was asking him a question, and he nodded his head noncommittedly. Satisfied, the girl launched into a new topic. Bradley slowly lowered his eyes back to the glowing screen under the table, feeling somewhat guilty for his rude behavior, but unable to pocket the phone. He tapped out a response deftly with his hidden hand.
Yeah, well, you know. Vegetarian hipsters with their sanctimonious I'm-cooler-than-everyone-else 'tude. Gets a bit old.
He grinned and waited, eyes darting back and forth between the mobile device and his date's face.
Col…..
He tapped his knee impatiently, the silence stretching out. Nervously waiting for the bantered reply, he took a bite of asparagus and stared at the glassy screen.
Cols?
The blonde actor let out a puff of air. Good going, Bradley. You've managed to offend the most inoffensive soul on the planet. Brilliant.
After several unhappy moments, the screen glowed again with an incoming text, and Bradley felt an inexplicable rush of giddy relief.
Sorry. The director wanted 2 talk 2 me. Well, we r cooler. And I swear, Bradley…. if u call me a hipster one more freaking time…
Bradley's shoulders relaxed. Of course. That was simply Colin – you could not hurt his feelings even if you tried to. Which no one ever did. Another bubble popped up, closely following the first.
If you're on a date, shouldn't you be off your phone and paying a bit more attention to the lady?
Nah, she's talking enough for the both of us. Not sure she even notices I'm texting. And now she's talking about why she hates football….
Dump her. Dump her now, mate. Order the veal and offer to share. Just – don't take advantage of her if ur going to end it.
Bradley's mouth twitched, and he typed back a smarmy reply.
Please. U make me sound cheap and tawdry.
Two Seconds later, the reply came back rapid-fire, and Bradley snorted, covering his burst of laughter with a sudden cough. He quickly spread a napkin across his face to regain his composure, and the model suddenly glanced across the table, eyes narrowed suspiciously, wondering why her date was blushing furiously and grinning like a fool.
Bradley excused himself and waited calmly until her eyes turned back to her plate, then he sent a quick reply.
Gotta go, she's on 2 us. Call later?
If we get out of rehearsals early enough. Good luck, mate.
Bugger time zones. Call anyway.
II.
Bradley pushed open the door to his flat, and stepped inside, swiping at his forehead and pulling back a hand damp with sweat. The run through the park had done him some good – had helped work off some of the frustration he was feeling. He flipped on the ceiling fan and collapsed on the sofa, downing half of his water bottle in one long drink.
The young man splayed his feet out, staring at the wall opposite, angry with the events of the day, his normally upbeat mood decidedly off kilter for the moment. Pulling out his mobile, he bit back a curse at the text from his agent, choosing not to reply until he had regained some sense of normalcy again. Instead, he opened another text box.
Cols?
Waiting only a few seconds, he rapidly followed with another.
Hey, hipster boy….
Not receiving a reply, he sighed and tilted his damp head back against the edge of the sofa, surrendering to the drowsiness that was beginning to pull at his eyelids.
More than halfway asleep, he was startled as the front door flew open. A bouncing figure, radiating far too much energy for his present state of mind, strode across the room.
"Hey, mate! Tried calling earlier, but you weren't answering your phone. We've got a game on for tonight – we need you to help out the team."
Bradley lifted his head tiredly. "Eoin. Don't you ever knock?"
His former flat-mate grinned cheekily. "Nah. Old habits. So, come on, then. We'll grab dinner on the way."
His friend shook his head, swatting away at the older man as if he were an unwelcome disturbance. "Think I'll pass this time. Too tired."
Eoin eyed him disdainfully. "You're getting soft, Bradders," he complained, heading towards the small kitchen. Bradley could hear clinking sounds coming from the partitioned room, as his friend rooted through the fridge.
Turning his head away from the kitchen with a small smile, he sighed again and reached for his jacket pocket as his mobile vibrated. Swiping at the screen, he quickly read the message, hearing the single word in a soft, Irish brogue.
Yeeessss?
A ghost of a grin flitted across his face, and he typed out a response.
Whatcha doing?
I'm rehearsing. And if you call me hipster boy one more time, so help me….
The blond boy's grin was genuine this time.
Are you threatening me?
Then a follow up text.
With a spoon?
Cheers, mate. I just choked on scalding coffee. Thanks.
Lol. Sorry. And why are u drinking that stuff anyway? U know u don't do well all hyped up on caffeine.
Because the others are drinking wine, and u remember what that does to me.
Bradley snickered, old memories fleeting quickly through his mind.
Umm, yes. My neighbors still haven't forgiven me.
:) BTW how did the audition go?
He stared at the mobile screen for a moment, the bitterness creeping back into his soul. The boy shot off one word.
Cancelled.
Sry, mate.
He waited for a moment, unsure how to reply, and another message popped up.
You know it's going to be ok, tho, right?
The bitter feeling thawed a little at the reassurances, and he took a deep, cleansing breath.
I guess. Just disappointed.
You still going to Supanova next weekend?
Oh, yeah. Katie'll b there 2.
Well, I'll c u there then. Gotta go back to rehearsal. TTYL
The ice had been replaced by a warming sensation settling somewhere in his chest. Eoin walked in, biting into a half-eaten sandwich he'd nicked. "Well, I guess I'll leave if I can't get you to change your mind." He stopped, aware that his team mate was staring at his mobile, an idiotic grin on his face.
"Wha-?" Bradley glanced up, remembering. "Oh, the game, right." He suddenly felt a renewed burst of energy, and a keen desire to run back and forth down the field, and destroy the other team with his footie mates. "No, I think I'll go after all." He stood up and stretched, a contented look on his face. "Might be fun."
Eoin stared at his friend for a moment, contrasting the customary, peaceful expression in front of him with the stormy gaze he'd met when he had walked in the door. His eyes travelled slowly to the mobile in his friend's hand, and his eyes lit up in sudden understanding. With a knowing lift of his eyebrows, Eoin clapped his friend on one shoulder, and started for the door. "Right."
As Bradley followed him over the threshold, the dark haired man turned over his shoulder to ask an innocent, seemingly unrelated question. "So how is Colin, anyway?"
III.
The room was darkening, as the sun began to sink behind the buildings lining the street outside. Bradley sat on the sofa, flipping on the telly while simultaneously pulling the foot rest up. Scanning through channels, he let the telly stop on a mind-numbing reality show, and stared at the screen disinterestedly. It had been a long day, and he felt tired. No, he reasoned to himself, not just tired. Tired was good; he loved the exhausted feeling after a long day's film shoot or an aggressive game of football. No, he felt saddened… and honestly, just a bit lonely. The boy made a snarling sound, and tapped a ringed-thumb against his knee, frustrated at himself. There was simply no reason that he could discern, for feeling down. His dating life had recently picked up quite a bit, and while he was always on the look-out for "the right one", he was truthfully enjoying being single, and getting the chance to go out with different types of girls.
His eyes roamed to the wall vacantly, recalling the ginger he'd taken to the cinema three days ago. His loneliness was definitely not from that area. And he was on contract to start filming a new mini-series for BBC1 in two months time, assuring him that there was a career beyond Merlin. He was excited, and ready for a new challenge, and yet, there was that ever—present ache in the back of his brain, behind all the busyness of everyday life. He shrugged, pushing it from his mind, and pulled out his phone.
You there, Col?
No answer came, and he pushed his stockinged feet out of his trainers, directing his attention back to the newest celebrity talk show.
An hour later, he was nodding off, when his phone chirped a single beep. Lifting his head and blinking rapidly, he squinted blearily at the screen.
Hey mate, good news. The producers are extending our show for another 6 weeks, so I guess I'll be in NYC for a while longer. Won't b able 2 make it 2 that wkend in Cardiff with you and Tom and Eoin next month, but excited for the show.
Bradley stared at the message, trying to feel happy for his best mate's success, but instead experiencing a moment of bereft emptiness. After several minutes, his phone blinked again.
Bradders?
The blonde gave a small snort of laughter at the use of Anthony's nickname. He slowly punched the keys, hoping his words would ring true.
Hey, Col, congrats, that's great! Told u it'd b a success. Proud of u.
He should have known. After five years of practically living in each other's pockets, Colin had become an expert on reading between the lines, at least where Bradley was concerned.
U ok? (What's wrong?)
Of course. Just tired. Been learning script all day. A little homesick, I guess. (I miss you. I miss laughing together at stupid jokes. I miss being slightly shocked at the dark things that sometimes come out of your mouth. I miss how the rest of the world disappears when you're in the room, and I can stop worrying about what other people think and what kind of impression I'm making, and can just be myself. Oh my gosh, I sound like a girl. But it's true.)
The reply came back quickly.
Homesick? I thought you were in London?
Bradley didn't answer. How could he? He didn't understand it himself. After several minutes of silence, his phone blinked with a new message, proving again that his friend always heard what he didn't say.
I miss you. I guess if two ppl really were two sides of the same coin, it wouldn't be such a bad thing.
Yeah. But it hurts.
Again, Bradley waited for an answer, while the TV show host screeched bawdy laughter in the background, but no reply came, and he began to wonder if Colin hadn't understood after all. The programing had switched over to a new show before his friend replied.
Check your inbox.
Why? Bradley typed, moving to his desk to switch on his laptop curiously. He continued glancing at the phone, but no new messages came, so he quickly opened his email, and sat staring at the new message waiting. His heart began pounding a little faster, and he flipped his phone over to hit the speed dial number.
"Yeeesss?" A soft, boyish brogue answered his call, laughter in the voice.
"It's a receipt confirmation." Bradley paused. "For a flight to New York."
"Can you come?" The eagerness in the voice was unmistakable, vibrating with typical Colin enthusiasm. "You're not starting your series for eight weeks, and I'm getting tired of no one over here being able to understand me when I talk. And I've got a couple pranks that are just begging to be used on some of my cast members, if I had an accomplice…"
Bradley listened in amusement, as the Irish brogue rambled on over the connection, detailing Colin's evil schemes. He closed his eyes for a moment, hearing the familiar voice. In two weeks time, he'd be going home.