Chapter Text
You should take it as a compliment
That I got drunk and made fun of the way you talk...
Mondrich’s was overflowing tonight, making it a struggle to order a drink even though the staff tried to keep an eye out for regulars. It helped that this time, there was a giant at her heels, parting the sea of lads so she could sail smoothly to the bar. It seemed that everywhere they went, Bridgertons attracted notice and deference, their raw confidence and energy pushing others aside and then drawing them back in to be spectators to it all. Or maybe it was just the ‘Colin Bridgerton Effect.’
“Two pints of Guinness, thanks Will.”
Penelope grabbed one glass before sliding the other over to Colin, ready to watch him fail at splitting the G for the millionth time (he always needed two and a half sips to get it right). Benedict grabbed El’s red wine and his vodka cran, taking a swig of each. “No sangria, or French 75, or whatever they’re drinking in Zagreb for you, brother? Aren’t you bored of lil’ ol’ London yet?” He teased over his shoulder, heading to the booth where Eloise, Anthony, Kate, Francesca, Daphne and Simon were chatting away. Penelope tugged at her jumper sleeves, shooting a glance at Colin on the stool beside her. He was as good at giving and taking Bridgerton teasing as the rest of them, and yet his jaw clenched at Ben’s words as he stared into his pint. Penelope was privy to parts of Colin that others weren’t, whether it was through the decade-long character study she’d been conducting (thanks to being hopelessly in love with him) or his own admission, she knew that for all his easy smiles and devil-may-care attitude, his siblings’ jibes hit him hard; he was much more sensitive than any of them realised. It was one of the things that had endeared her to him, how much he cared.
“Aren’t you?” she asked delicately, aware of all this but curious for an answer anyway. It was strange, he’d been home for longer than usual, with no plans to leave yet (at least not that she knew of), and she wanted to know why. “I would be. You’ve been to so many beautiful places, your emails are so detailed, they make me wanna jump on a plane as soon as possible just to get to wherever you are… because of how good you make them sound!” She cringed, taking a swig of her drink. Was she usually this tongue-tied? She thought she was good at hiding her feelings for him, maybe she needed to slow down the drinking…
He cracked a grin, that signature glimmer lighting up his eyes. “I mean, the tree-lined streets of La Marais at sunset are lovely, and the Grecian waters crashing against the rocks truly are the perfect shade of blue. But London, on a night like this, it’s the best place in the world, isn’t it?”
“Isn’t it?” Penelope mimicked. It was official then, her too-many-drinks personality was making an appearance thanks to Colin and his bottomless Bridgerton wallet. No matter how many times she tried to buy a round, he found a way to pay instead. Too-tipsy-Penelope (or rather, Positively-Plastered-Penelope) was embarrassing enough as she was, but tonight she was especially terrible, forgetting that Colin got annoyed when they questioned his love of London, and dropping her Irish lilt for the signature Bridgerton RP accent, oozing English arsehole-ish-aristocracy, despite the family being the most down-to-earth people she knew.
It was just too easy and he wouldn’t take it poorly. In fact, he should take it as a compliment! She liked the way he talked…. If anything she probably liked it a little too much, and had since the day she met him. He was just as earnest now as he’d been then, genuinely believing that London, today, in this pub with his family and sister’s best friend, was the best place in the world. At least for now, before he jetted off to Singapore and discovered how good their nightlife was.
“Are you sure it isn’t Ibiza?” Pen tried mimicking his accent again when he didn’t reply.
“Of course, I’m sure, Pen.” He snorted, “Who am I, Fife? Why would I prefer Ibiza over this?”
“Really?” She said, dubious despite his conviction. “You’ve been to almost 50 countries and this is what’s perfect? A rainy night at the neighbourhood pub?”
“A rainy night at one of my best mates' pubs, spending time with the people I love? The kind of night where Ant and El try not to kill each other and Daph and Frannie get drunk enough to drag us to karaoke? Where Ben flirts with everyone who walks through the door, and where your job finally lets me see you?”
“Well,” she hoped it was too dim for him to see her flush. ‘ With the people I love… where your job finally lets me see you.’ “Surely you prefer Paris?” How many times had she heard him declare Paris as having the most excellent company? He’d waxed poetic about its beauty, and she couldn’t imagine it was confined to only the landmarks.
“Paris?” He laughed, “when I’m in Paris, or anywhere for that matter, all I can think about is this. Missing this… wanting this.”
Oh. “This?”
“Are you really going to make me say it?”
“Yes.” Penelope didn’t know what he was going to say, only that she desperately wanted to hear him say it.
“I miss you–- all of you. Ben’s drinking games, finding Daph practising ballet while sneaking midnight snacks, and early breakfasts in the garden with Fran. I miss El making us watch Planet Earth on movie night, playing Fortnite with Greg, and letting Hyacinth paint my nails crazy colours… I even miss Ornery Ant. Well no, I don’t miss that, I miss the Ant that lets his hair down when we watch footie and Arsenal scores.” He paused, fidgeting with his ruby ring, “and I miss you, Pen. Maybe more than anyone else, but don’t tell Hy and Greg that. I miss getting to talk to you every day. Without the timezones and deadlines, with work and your mum getting in the way. I miss us.”
‘ I miss us.’ She wished it didn’t make her skin prickle, the way she wanted those words to mean more than how he meant them. He missed his friend, Pen, for all her steadfast communication, unwavering support, shitty puns, and nothing else. It was another piece of proof that Colin Bridgerton would never see her as anything other than a friend, and yet for all these years, she’d been unable to step away from the fiery crash that was her unreciprocated crush on him. She was transfixed by the burning flames consuming the wreckage of her heart, so she couldn’t stop the words from slipping out: “I miss you too.”
Colin’s face lit up, with that smile that felt reserved for the Bridgertons, and by extension, her, the dorky one, usually buried beneath the layers of his charming facade. It took her breath away every time like it was the first. “I’m gonna try to be back in London more now. I don’t want it to be this long between visits.”
“That sounds nice.” And it really did. But how long would it last, and what would it look like? Getting close to him only for him to fly off again would ruin her, she couldn’t surrender her heart to him like that. And even if he did keep his word, he’d been travelling since he finished uni, and they’d never lived in London at the same time since. Would they only meet at weekly pub nights? Would they get dinner and catch up? Share late-night phone calls? What would a world where Penelope and Colin lived in the same city at the same time really look like? Would he even want to be her friend anymore? With socialites hanging onto his every word, would he care about the girl next door who he philosophised over emails with?
He nodded enthusiastically, and for a moment, she saw him doing the same when Edmund asked if he was going to be able to keep an eye on El and Pen during a day out on the lake at Aubrey Hall. So, so earnest and eager to please. But what happened when he realised he couldn’t keep the promises he wanted to make, when his heart won out over his head, no matter how much he thought he wanted to stay here?
“It will be. I want to hear all about your office, how annoying Clara Livingston is, and how Emma Kenworthy’s the only one in the department with a brain! Remember the little Bridgerton life updates you used to give me? And the London gossip reports? Oh! And the lowdowns on how Mr.Bingley was doing every day.”
“His name isn’t–-wasn’t Mr.Bingley! You know damn well it’s— was Mr.Darcy!”
“Bingley’s the better man, Pen,” he smothered his grin in his pint. He was the worst, she decided. They both knew he liked Persuasion better, he just liked teasing her more.
“You lost naming rights when you gave me custody.”
“Let me get you another one then. You can name that one Mr.Darcy.”
“We are not going back to Brighton just so you can replace him!”
“He was a ginger cat, Pen, he’s a Bingley all the way!”
“Bingley isn’t even ginger in the book, you’re the victim of revisionist history, Colin Bridgerton.”
He held a hand over his heart as if she’d wounded him. “How dare you? What I am is a victim of Pride and Prejudice 2005 movie nights. A victim of whimsy and romance and a loveable ginger man!”
Penelope scoffed. “You would know better if El never let us watch the 1995 miniseries, that’s not my fault! Even when we had enough time, she’d always insist on the movie…” then it hit her. “That sneak! She just wanted–”
“--wanted more time to force us to watch Planet Earth,” he finished with a sigh, causing Pen to burst into a fit of giggles, spurring his own. The ease between them was a reminder that she would always want more of Colin, as much of him as she could get. She’d never been immune to him, which was why she had to be careful.
He’d won Mr. Darcy at the pier, and if he’d been any other seventeen-year-old boy, she’d say it was typical behaviour to unload one of the many stuffed animals he won onto his fourteen-year-old sister’s friend who was always just… there. But he wasn’t just any other boy.
That trip had been more than ten years ago, but she remembered it as if it happened yesterday. Her mum hadn’t given her any money, claiming that since the Bridgertons were rich and always willing to invite her, they should pay for her. Penelope was mortified, she couldn’t bring herself to ask Violet for anything, she was already tagging along and Portia’s comments had her worrying they’d think her a hanger-on. She’d been all but ready to tell them she was sick and couldn’t come when the doorbell rang and Colin Bridgerton stood on the other side of the door, ready to whisk her across the street and away to Brighton.
So of course, he wasn’t like any other boy, he never had been. He was the boy she’d loved since she was a kid. He won it for her because he knew she loved the seaside, spending time with the Bridgertons, cats, and stuffed animals, and he’d never judged her for any of those things. In their rare moments alone back then, when Eloise fell asleep between them on the way back to London, or when Ben and Ant kicked around in the garden, she and Colin would just… talk. He would tell her about his life at school, and she’d do the same, because at that age what else did they have to talk about? She was the first to learn he hated his ‘friends’ like Herbert Fife and Fletcher Stanton and was waiting for the day he could leave for uni and meet better people. He was the first to know that Cressida Cowper tore her dress on the first day of primary school and treated it like an annual ritual since, leading to Penelope wearing her ugliest outfit on the first day of school each year, because one day of cruelty was worth it if it meant she never had to wear an outfit her mother claimed would ‘help her look slimmer’ again.
Over the years they’d gotten more and more time alone together until they stopped waiting for Eloise to fall asleep or Benedict and Anthony to be preoccupied. Soon he went from being the first to know about one of her secrets to the one she got a call from in the small hours, bursting to share the most beautiful sunrise he’d ever seen with her. They’d come to have inside jokes they would recognize even if it’d been years since they’d last heard them.
Tonight, their knees knocked together under the barstools as they shook with laughter and for a moment Pen thought it might not be so bad to only have him during weekly pub nights. Colin was all too good at making her forget her worries, but no matter how much he made her laugh tonight, she still couldn’t shake the feeling that getting too close now would only break her own heart.