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Colin is too, well, polite isn’t the right word, because he definitely wants Taron there. Indulgent maybe, or selfish. Feels a bit like he’s taking advantage of his young friend in his inebriated state. But Taron snuggles even closer if such a thing is possible, and Colin figures he can allay any embarrassment Taron might feel in the morning so he just…lets it happen. Lets Taron snuggle into his side and lets himself fall asleep as well. He doesn’t want to wake Taron, after all. Even if he didn’t want Taron sleeping next to him for less than pure reasons, he wouldn’t deny his friend this, a chance for sleep when Colin knows how hard Taron works. It’s still, strictly speaking, platonic, after all. Sleeping together and Sleeping Together are different. So it’s alright.
Only, a couple hours after Colin finally drifts off, still in his clothes, still on the sofa with Taron in his arms, he’s woken by Taron's soft sleepy "Colin?"
He can't manage much in the way of vocalization himself. "Hmm?"
"Time is it?" Taron must understand where he is and how they're positioned by now, but he doesn't move to sit up. He asks the question with his lips still close enough to Colin's neck that Colin feels it like a kiss.
Colin’s got one arm wrapped around Taron, holding him against his chest, and he risks a brief squeeze of Taron’s shoulder with the hand that presses him close. Ostensibly, he’s holding Taron so they don't fall off the sofa, but the lie is so obvious he gives up trying to believe himself.
Still, he has an excuse, because it’s, "Nearly four, I think. Did you want to go to bed?"
Taron nods, but he doesn't move to stand up. The silence drags out for so long that Colin is almost certain Taron's fallen back asleep, but then he hears, "Your bed, Colin." Taron's left hand, which had been draped across Colin's chest, fingers curling delicately in the fabric of his shirt, he now moves to entwine with Colin's right. He lifts his head from the crook of Colin's neck just enough to bring Colin’s hand up so he can rest his cheek there in the palm of it. Not for a kiss, which is what Colin had been half expecting, just an acknowledgement. It’s the first real time either of them has admitted to there being something between them.
Colin lets out a breath he hadn't realized he was holding. With confirmation that they’re officially on the same page Colin no longer feels guilty about seeking intimacy.
"Alright darling." Taron sighs at the endearment like it was a caress, turns his face to nose into Colin's hand, and Colin can't resist rubbing his thumb over that plush bottom lip.
"Colin," Taron whispers, voice holding the edge of a whine. He tries to slip Colin's thumb into his mouth but Colin pulls his hand away, eliciting another needy sound from Taron that, were it any hour more decent than this one, he’d try and replicate.
Instead, he urges Taron up onto his feet. He wobbles adorably until Colin catches him, more from sleep than alcohol at this point.
“Take me to bed? Please?” The hesitation in Taron’s voice breaks Colin’s heart a little bit, the idea that Taron’s maybe still not sure that he’s allowed to have this. Colin is fully prepared to give Taron the world, if he asks.
He presses a kiss into Taron’s hair, before getting the sense that the gesture feels uncomfortably paternal. He remedies this by turning Taron to face him and leaning down for a proper kiss. It’s soft and very nearly chaste, but Taron melts into it, melts against Colin and just gives himself over to Colin’s will, lets Colin decide how and when Taron will get his pleasure.
And oh but that’s powerfully erotic, the way Taron’s natural instinct is to bend for him. There’s such a simplicity and beauty to his surrender. When the circumstances are better Colin fully plans on seeing how far Taron is willing to go for him. Alas, as it’s still four in the morning, Colin reluctantly pulls away. They both have places to be tomorrow and now simply cannot be the time. Taron’s eyes are wide in the darkness, and were the lighting brighter Colin imagines he’d see faint spots of color high up on Taron’s cheeks, the way he gets after gushing about Colin in an interview, flushed pink and adoring.
“I love you,” Taron says breathily, and then as soon as he realizes what’s just come out of his mouth he claps his hand over the offending orifice so as to prevent anything else from escaping. He begins to sputter. “I mean. Shit. Um, I’m still drunk I think, didn’t mean to be weird or anything. Fuck I’m sorry, that was not the right time to say that, but not that I don’t care! About you I mean. I just--”
Colin decides to take pity on Taron and kisses him again. There’s desperation to it this time, Taron trying to hold on to what he thinks he’s about to lose. Colin does his best to soothe Taron, swallowing his apologies and rubbing one hand in gentle circles over Taron’s back while the other pets his hair until he quiets in Colin’s arms, sags against him while they spend a long moment breathing together.
“I’m not upset Taron. We’ve danced around this long enough that I, well, I think we can avoid labels for tonight but you, sweet boy, are very dear to me. We'll talk more in the morning, but suffice it to say now that I have you I’m loathe to let you go so easily.”
Taron reaches to clasp their hands again, smiling up at Colin with a twinkle of amusement in his eyes. “I think I like you possessive.”
“It’s a shortcoming I’ve not yet managed to overcome. But come on, I still need another few hours sleep. Let’s not keep standing around in here.”
“What, I confess my sappiest feelings and no sex after?” Taron seems to already be able to joke about his slip, and Colin takes that as a good sign. Colin’s not going to put a greater emotional strain on the relationship than he thinks they can handle at this stage by saying it out loud, by putting pressure on Taron, but of course he feels the same. He doesn’t know how to feel anything but love and affection and desire and respect for the stunning young man before him, hasn’t known for a long time.
“Don’t think I’m not planning to thoroughly bed you as soon as we’re both more awake, but we have time. There isn’t a rush.”
“Oh do not say shit like that and not follow through. Do you talk in bed Colin? God, I bet you talk. Bet you have a mouth on you. Thought about it you know, you in one of those ridiculous Harry Hart suits and me naked, and you say the dirtiest things in my ear while you hold me down and give it to me rough. Say you will?”
Taron is going to be such a handful, and Colin can’t wait.
“Not. Tonight.” There’s enough finality in his words that Taron gives up trying to goad Colin into abandoning his plan and having it off right there back down on the sofa and huffs instead. But there’s not any real disappointment to it, because Taron is just as tired as Colin.
They make their way to Colin’s bed, Taron not letting go of Colin’s hand until they have to undress. Colin offers to let Taron borrow some sleep pants, but Taron declines, crawling into Colin’s bed in only his black boxer briefs, and isn’t that a sight Colin’s going to remember for the next forever? Colin, however, does opt for the pants, if only because he’s sure that if he was in contact with that much of Taron’s skin they wouldn’t either of them get anymore sleep that night. Colin’s agent is supposed to call him sometime before ten, and not waking up in time would be unprofessional of him.
This isn’t going to be easy, both of them having separate schedules and films and engagements to deal with. He doesn’t particularly wish this life on Taron, but he’d been serious about not letting him go. They’ll figure out how to make it work.
He steps into the navy blue sleep pants, but can’t bring himself to bother with a shirt. Having some self control is not the same as being foolish enough to deny himself the feeling of Taron’s sleep-warm back against his chest. He gathers Taron against himself once he gets under the covers, and Colin doesn’t know if it’s Taron’s level of exhaustion or the glimpse of submission he caught earlier that means Taron doesn’t protest as Colin positions them how he likes. Tomorrow he’ll have to ask if Taron’s ever formally played before. Not that Colin is interested in anything formal, per se, but if Taron wanted Colin to take him apart once in a while? Well, Colin does not plan to deny him. If Taron wants to take Colin apart, Colin does not plan to deny him. There is alarmingly little that Taron will not be allowed, so long as he keeps that adoring gaze focused in Colin’s direction. But this revelation doesn’t scare Colin. It should, maybe, but he just feels warm with it, with the possibilities.
Taron’s sole action to change how Colin has them, back to front with Colin’s toes peaking out from between Taron’s calves, is to yet again take Colin’s hand in his. Colin rubs his thumb over the top of Taron’s past the point when he’s sure Taron’s breathing has evened out. Funny how, for all that Taron had been the one wanting to stay awake, it’s now Colin who can’t get back to sleep. It’s the magnitude of the gift he’s been given that’s getting to him, he thinks. Taron who is beautiful and kind and brilliant, and for some unfathomable reason devoted to him, is in his arms, and not because he’d accidentally fallen asleep at Colin’s side after a few too many drinks this time. He was here because he wanted to be, because he wanted Colin.
He’d never paid much mind to his status as a sex symbol among certain, mostly middle-aged, members of the populace. He understood objectively that plenty of people found him attractive, but as for Taron wanting him? That was still something of a mystery. He seems to have no desire for the idealized version of Colin immortalized on film. He just wants Colin, fully thirty years his senior, greying, and soft round the middle now that he’s not required to keep up with his Kingsman training. Colin doesn’t fully understand that, though he has what he hopes will be the rest of his life to figure it out.
His last thought, as the first rays of the sun begin to peek around the edges of the curtains, is that Mr. Darcy can suck it.