story title: GOLD IN THE SHADOWS
summary: Bradley and Colin get stranded in France for a night and somehow it changes everything. Or, well, maybe it doesn't change everything so much as it brings out what's been there all along. In fact, nothing much changes at all except Colin stops pretending that anyone else can ever be as important as Bradley.
art warnings: obviously spoilers for ingberry's amazing fanfic
artists notes: a big, big Thank you to xfortytwo/ingberry for being wonderful, writing this beautiful story and bearing with me; and to my beloved wolf pack on tumblr for your help and our everyday fangirling together that keeps me going. my apologies to those whose movies/ads/videos i violated for this - not doing this for money i dunno i'm just a brolin shipper!! - aaaaand i shut up now ^_^°
(please don't post any of these to tumblr before i'll do in the next few days)
They make it to Coquelles with no major incidents (except Bradley takes a wrong
turn at some point and they muck about in the countryside for thirty minutes while
cows mock them from the side of the road). It’s past midnight when they drive slowly
down the quiet streets. The Eurostar doesn’t head for England until morning,
so they have a night to spend in the small town.
Bradley doesn’t quite meet his eyes as he rolls out of bed, hurrying into their tiny
bathroom and Colin sinks back down onto the mattress, running a hand through his hair.
... I will punch you in the face,” Bradley mutters against his lips and Colin laughs helplessly.
It feels stupidly intimate, maybe even more so than kissing.
“Aw, Colin,” he says, his voice still thick with laughter, “it’s our song. You’re so romantic.”
“You’re the slowest idiot I’ve ever met in my entire life.”
aaaaaand here's some crack stuff i couldn't stop myself from making, cos ingberry just put so many beautiful images in my poor mind and some of them sneaked into photoshop without my consent. but all of them filled with love and my deepest adoration for this wonderful cast!!
Angel tips back the last of her wine and rolls her eyes. “Excellent idea, Colin, I’ll just ring up BBC
and tell them I’m writing a show about a gothic princess with a pet pony travelling the high seas, then.”
“Best show ever,” Katie exclaims, throwing her arms out. “I’ll be your sidekick.”
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Colin turns to look at him and they share a slight smile. “She’ll make them rewrite
the script. When we come back the show will be about how Morgana wins the
throne and keeps a harem of knights.”
“In a land of myth and a time of magic,” Bradley says in a low voice, squeezing one
eye shut, “the destiny of a crumbling kingdom rests on the shoulders of an evil witch
and her harem of knights. Her name? Morgana.”
“I think Katie would change the theme song. She’d like something snazzier.”
Bradley widens his eyes. “She’d make them set the show in space. You know
how she feels about space.”
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“Jesus, are you drunk tweeting again?” Colin asks, leaning over to stare at Eoin’s phone.
“And how do you even talk and type at the same time? I bet you’ve practised.”
Eoin smirks down at his phone. “My drunk tweets are fucking gold, Colin. You can’t
deny perfection. And you don’t need to call me Jesus.”
“Much better. There, now Twitter knows that you call me Jesus.”
When Bradley starts exchanging random words with ‘cookie’, Colin buries his face
into the backsofa-cushion, his shoulder shaking.
“I hate you,” he says feebly into the scratchy fabric.
“Merlin,” Bradley says, narrowing his eyes at Colin. “Don’t just stand there. Help the cookie!”
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