Colin jams his hands into his pocket and shrugs deeper into his hoody. "Visiting some friends who live here. I was walking back to their place when I saw you here, and I thought I drop in and say hi."
"You recognized the back of my head through all that shit?" Bradley jerks his head towards the window, where "O'Malley's Pub" is written in green and surrounded by the omnipresent shamrocks. The man tending the pub snorts, and turns his back pointedly to look at the telly.
"I'd recognize the back of your ugly head anywhere. Besides, you have the most amazing ability to pay too over pay for food. It couldn't have been anyone else." Colin looks the same as when Bradley last saw him in France, pale and skinny, although he has his typical "too lazy to shave beard" that he always grows when people aren't forcing him to shave. It shouldn't be a surprise, it's been only slightly over a year, but Bradley finds himself looking for differences anyway. Colin lets him look, and doesn't comment went the silence stretches on for too long.
"Don't lie Morgan," Bradley finally says, patting the bar stool next to him. "I know you just wanted to get in touch with your Irish roots." Colin rolls his eyes, but sits down next to Bradley and steals some of his chips before texting his friends telling them that he's afraid he won't make it this evening.
And after that things seem to relax, because Bradley knows that even though Colin is a shit drinker and should by all rights be somewhere else right now, they've somehow figured out how to do this again. And for once he doesn't have to think about what "this" means, because there is no destiny, and because Colin's mouth tastes like salt and vinegar from the chips, and because who the hell cares about how Bradley James snogs besides Bradley James (and maybe, (un)surprisingly, Colin Morgan). Bradley finally feels like things are going to be all right after all, because he's going to make his own choices this time. And if anyone wants to talk about how these choices involve kissing pasty Irish boys in pubs, well, they clearly have no idea what it's like to kiss Colin, who despite Bradley's expectations (fears) kisses nothing like anyone else, sweet and desperate, with just a hint of teeth when Bradley gentle places a hand on the side of his face. His beard is giving Bradley stubble burn, but that's okay. He kinda likes the way it looks, and anyway, it's Colin, and even though Bradley hasn't *really* talked to Colin in a year and a half, they're them, and he thinks they can figure this out. And that's much better than destiny.
***
I have been one of these places. The other two I'm completely pulling out of my ass. PLUS THERE MUST BE A HAPPY ENDING. I AM A ROMANTIC SOP AND INSIST.
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Colin jams his hands into his pocket and shrugs deeper into his hoody. "Visiting some friends who live here. I was walking back to their place when I saw you here, and I thought I drop in and say hi."
"You recognized the back of my head through all that shit?" Bradley jerks his head towards the window, where "O'Malley's Pub" is written in green and surrounded by the omnipresent shamrocks. The man tending the pub snorts, and turns his back pointedly to look at the telly.
"I'd recognize the back of your ugly head anywhere. Besides, you have the most amazing ability to pay too over pay for food. It couldn't have been anyone else." Colin looks the same as when Bradley last saw him in France, pale and skinny, although he has his typical "too lazy to shave beard" that he always grows when people aren't forcing him to shave. It shouldn't be a surprise, it's been only slightly over a year, but Bradley finds himself looking for differences anyway. Colin lets him look, and doesn't comment went the silence stretches on for too long.
"Don't lie Morgan," Bradley finally says, patting the bar stool next to him. "I know you just wanted to get in touch with your Irish roots." Colin rolls his eyes, but sits down next to Bradley and steals some of his chips before texting his friends telling them that he's afraid he won't make it this evening.
And after that things seem to relax, because Bradley knows that even though Colin is a shit drinker and should by all rights be somewhere else right now, they've somehow figured out how to do this again. And for once he doesn't have to think about what "this" means, because there is no destiny, and because Colin's mouth tastes like salt and vinegar from the chips, and because who the hell cares about how Bradley James snogs besides Bradley James (and maybe, (un)surprisingly, Colin Morgan). Bradley finally feels like things are going to be all right after all, because he's going to make his own choices this time. And if anyone wants to talk about how these choices involve kissing pasty Irish boys in pubs, well, they clearly have no idea what it's like to kiss Colin, who despite Bradley's expectations (fears) kisses nothing like anyone else, sweet and desperate, with just a hint of teeth when Bradley gentle places a hand on the side of his face. His beard is giving Bradley stubble burn, but that's okay. He kinda likes the way it looks, and anyway, it's Colin, and even though Bradley hasn't *really* talked to Colin in a year and a half, they're them, and he thinks they can figure this out. And that's much better than destiny.
***
I have been one of these places. The other two I'm completely pulling out of my ass. PLUS THERE MUST BE A HAPPY ENDING. I AM A ROMANTIC SOP AND INSIST.