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Sometimes? Sometimes life was good. Really good. She discretely wiped at her lips as she dabbed the barely existent sweat from her face, shifting in her seat as she ogled unashamedly.
“What did I miss?” Alice asked, all but sliding into her seat and miraculously not spilling either of their now-filled water bottles, the next round on Penelope. Alice liked to get her turn done early so she didn’t miss any of the mid-spar trash talk.
“Not much,” Penelope said, lifting her brow and smiling as she curled the weight up in her hand, fluttering her lashes when Colin turned to look at her, his chest heaving from the warmup, having been jump roping for the last 5 minutes with barely a break on top of all those push ups. He and Will were both in little more than thin white undershirts, already sweating through them as they waved at them from their spot off on the side.
“God bless gray sweatpants, hm?” she asked, waving her fingers at her husband and throwing him a sweet smile, mouthing ‘get him!’
“Have I mentioned how grateful I am to the universe for making us both take Pre-Calculus?” Penelope responded, blowing a kiss at Colin, which he pretended to snatch in his boxing glove and then pressed to his heart, throwing her a wink.
Alice laughed, watching as Colin and Will squared up against each other. The first time had been a surprise, she and Colin really only checking out the gym just to rock-climb together, despite her dwindling upper body strength. She much preferred hiking. Even still, when she spotted Alice, remembering her from college and tugged them all together, their friendship had been solidified.
The sparring was just a nice treat. A reward.
Penelope didn’t know for what, exactly, but surely it was because the outline of him in his joggers from the front, the jiggle of his ample arse from the back, never failing to make her bite her lip, alongside the wet glisten of his exposed chest and arms and back– she was just a woman, for God’s sake. This was worse than when she was a teenager and went to his track meets, getting the sexiest glimpse of him when he’d rip his shirt off at the end, panting and all but throwing himself onto the grass at the finish line after a marathon.
And by worse she meant better.
So much better.
Her mouth all but watered at the idea of joining him in the shower when they got home, kissing all the new, blossoming bruises he was always so proud of, being his nurse and turning her big, strong husband into goop for her.
She really loved getting to play being his nurse. By the looks of things, he’d need some TLC and soon, but so would Will. Penelope took a glance over at Alice, knowing that tomorrow they would go out for brunch and dish the details (finally, she could gush about him to someone other than his sister) of how the both of them were reaping the full rewards of all that adrenaline, but her eyes didn’t stay on her for long.
Colin was ducking swiftly, nimble, light on his feet from his years of Muay Thai, making him a surprisingly good match against Will’s background in MMA. The two of them danced around each other, both built broad and tall and fluid. Will spun just out of reach of Colin’s elbow, landing a hard hit against his ribs, instead, winding him. Colin bounced back, tucking his arm toward his side, looking almost like a wounded bird, even as he grinned.
“I guess Math can’t take all the credit,” Alice said, all but openly drooling at the slick sheen across Will’s calves and the exposed sliver of his belly, the flex of his muscles when he adjusted his fists around his eyes. Neither stopped moving, throwing high kicks and knees, most of which were blocked by strong arms that could lift either of them effortlessly. She gasped when Colin just barely stepped out of the way of an uppercut.
"You've got this, Honey!"
*
“Slow today, aren’t you, Bridgerton?” Will asked, smirking at his friend as he bobbed and weaved, smiling after hearing his wife cheer for him. Perhaps on his feet, they were more evenly matched, but as soon as grappling on the ground was in the equation, all bets were off. Colin wasn’t formally trained in that particular regard, but he was scrappy as all hell and he had grit for days. Either he'd lose out at the first opening or he'd struggle to the bitter end, emerging as the victor with his nose bleeding all across his lips and chin.
Finally, someone decent to box with after ages of having to settle for the eldest Bridgerton brother, far too sloppy when he was emotional, or even Simon, all curled up and skittish. Colin both didn’t hold back and knew how to fight, having taught all his sisters and his youngest brother how to properly throw a punch behind Anthony’s back, much to the absolute hilarity of him challenging his ‘wimpy younger brother’ to a match and ending up on his back.
“Ah, used up all my stamina at home I’m afraid,” he teased back, dodging beneath Will’s left hook and finally managing to knock the breath out of the other man with a kidney punch, retreating as soon as his boxing glove had connected. Will wheezed a laugh. Fuck, it stung.
Not that he’d let him know.
“Must have, from that blow.”
“Yeah yeah, with your knees shaking and all.”
“You call this shaking?”
Colin laughed, lifting his arms up. “Alright, alright. Drills? I brought-” he cut off at the boos to the side, both of them bursting into laughter at seeing their wives pretend to throw popcorn.
“Take your tops off!” Penelope called, and it was so loud that it could have reverberated through the whole gym. She didn’t even look ashamed.
Not anymore, at least. Colin wolf-whistled at her as he ran his boxing gloves over his torso, swinging his hips at his wife all too sensually for 11 in the morning, either not caring or showing off even more for the random spectators taking glances at them. The tiny pixie that was better known as Penelope, a miniscule 5 foot to her husband’s considerably taller frame, was eye-fucking him so hard, he was certain someone would come by to ask them to leave any minute now. Will rolled his eyes good-naturedly, truthfully thankful he finally had another couple to hang out with who were just as wild for each other as he and Alice were, even if they did take it a bit far, sometimes. Speaking of, he caught her looking at him expectantly.
Had no one remembered the art of subtlety except for him?
He lifted both gloves in the air, throwing her a toothy smile.
“Come on! He gave her a show,” Alice taunted, pretending to throw money at them as Penelope whooped for her husband, now making his way over to her and pressing her against his sweaty torso.
“Bridgerton! We were in the middle of a spar!”
“My wife demanded my attention, how could I abandon her in her time of need?” Colin hammed up, rubbing his stubble against her cheek as he tangled his fingers in her coppery ponytail, the both of them giggling against each other. “Don’t be jealous, Will! You’re still my lockscreen.”
“I’m all of our lock screens,” he laughed, unable to prevent the humor bubbling up at the fact that the exhausted picture Alice took of him and Colin showing off their matching full-side bruises from each other after their high-kick only challenge had somehow ended up being a Christmas gift Penelope got framed for both their households. At first, only he and Colin had it as their backgrounds, their arms thrown around each other at the shoulders as they turned slightly. They looked good, sue them.
Obviously, they weren’t the only ones who thought so from Alice’s response back home. And if he remembered right, Colin’s flushed ears and scratch marks all over his shoulders the day after, looking as though he’d discovered the secret to alchemy itself and had been mauled by a bear, indicated he was well aware, himself.
At least he and Alice had tact. . .sometimes. Will watched as Penelope ran her hand unashamedly over Colin’s stomach, clicking her tongue in sympathy when he played up the sensitivity, the both of them all but glued to one another in her fawning before he guided her by her ponytail into a kiss.
Well, he wasn't getting his boxing buddy back anytime soon.
He groaned, looking back over at Alice, but she was in front of him, instead, surprising him with her proximity and a flirtatious glint, lifting her own fists up around her eyes. “Maybe you’d prefer a prettier sparring partner?”
Will grinned, just as besotted as the first day he’d fallen in love with her, nodding, holding out his boxing gloves for her to punch, memorizing the spiral of her curls and the pretty brown of her irises.
Life was good.