Work Text:
The problem with epiphanies, Colin Bridgerton realized early on, was that they always happened at the most inopportune times.
He had realized he wanted to travel the world and develop an identity outside of being a Bridgerton right during his graduation from Eton, when Anthony was expecting him to take on a leading role in one of Bridgerton Corporation's many subsidiaries.
He realized he was what the experts on sexual identity called a ‘demisexual,’ right after a failed engagement with a woman whom he wanted to be with for the sake of being with someone, and not out of profound love.
He realised he wanted to be an author in a cutthroat industry right when all his siblings were established in simple and stable career trajectories.
He realized one of the biggest drawbacks of constantly exploring the world was that he would experience his family's major milestones through dm’s and video chats. It was when Ben announced Sophie was pregnant with Charlie that his heart couldn't stand the idea that another Bridgerton would come to the world without their uncle there to welcome him home from the hospital.
His mother always assured him that it didn't matter when he had the epiphanies. What mattered was that he had them, that he always came back, that he always found his footing. That love didn't judge someone else's timeline.
All of these epiphanies had come with varying degrees of pain and demanded reorganizing his life to better fit the altered version of the future.
None of them had been quite as devastating as this particular epiphany.
The realization that he was head-over-arse in love with his best friend, Penelope Featherington, during a Bridgerton Halloween party while she was being hit on by some blond, bearded tool dressed as a scientist.
The Gandalf-looking motherfucker was a scientist, according to the introductions Anthony had made earlier, which had almost put Colin in a boredom-induced coma. Albert or Angus Debling, some stupid name like that. So he basically dressed up as himself. Pompous, uncreative freak.
Colin's realization that he felt something for Pen that wasn’t entirely ‘friendly’ had been creeping onto him slowly for months now. They had always had a cordial, pleasant rapport, but with him in the country permanently, they were spending more quality time together than ever before. It began with her offering (him begging, but that was semantics) to read through his rough drafts to make them acceptable for human consumption. Leading to late-night editing sessions in her flat, which often segued into even later night movie sessions, where they traded barbs and argued endlessly about every subject under the sun.
He always knew Pen was intelligent. Spending time with her regularly showed him all the more he had missed out on for years. She was witty as fuck without being mean about it, beautiful in a way that could make a guy's breath catch when she smiled at him, gave opinions that were thoughtful and researched, a habit honed by truly listening to people all her life.
The more time Colin spent with her, the less time he wanted to spend anywhere or with anyone else.
Times of day began bleeding into one another. Late-night movies turned into early morning breakfast runs together. Lunch breaks where they’d discuss the merits of different literary tropes (she was staunchly team ‘love at first sight’, whereas he was a defender of ‘friends to lovers’). And she called him on his shit in a way that never felt demeaning; it made him want to rise to the occasion, be worthy of the potential she always saw in him.
His realization of his feelings for her was like gentle waves lapping at the shores of his consciousness; they were so subtle that at first he didn’t notice his feet getting wet, didn’t register the grainy sand between his toes. He just kept walking deeper into the depths of her, enjoying the feeling of floating without naming it. Until the night of the Halloween party.
When she walked in dressed like a Regency era debutante, inspired by a historical romance she and Eloise had been binge-watching. Crimson waves cascading down her shoulder, a corseted dress that was doing unholy things to her already generous bosom, makeup making all her pretty features glow even more ethereally. And if that torturous trifecta wasn’t enough, she smelled like citrus and pure sin.
He had gone from being semi-functional to nearly catatonic.
The waves turned into a tsunami, and suddenly he was dragged underwater, gasping for breath and anchor, so entirely submerged in the realization that he had fallen in love with her that he had no hope of ever resurfacing.
He wished the epiphany hadn’t come when he was dressed in a goofy yellow astronaut costume. But his nephew Miles had specifically picked it as a birthday gift for him months earlier, insisting that ‘Unca Olin’ was an alien from another planet. Colin had nearly broken the little guy’s heart when he told him he couldn’t wear the costume to work, but they had compromised when his uncle promised to wear it to every non-work-related event for the foreseeable future.
Such as now.
Where he now stood, heart bursting and mind frozen, against a white wall in the corner of the room, glaring at Arthur or Andrew or whatever the fuck his name was as he blathered on about endangered cacti or emus, whatever he thought passed off as stimulating conversation.
And why the hell was Pen laughing so much? Surely Bob Barker couldn’t be that interesting; Pen was just being polite. She always was, never wanting to excuse herself from a conversation lest the other person feel bad about it. He should rescue her. That would be the noble thing to do.
He should stick a lollipop in the bearded demon’s creepy retina-burning hair.
Before his mind could intervene with something as ridiculous as logic, he felt his heart sign a contract with his dick, both of whom immediately sent an ‘Urgent! Must rescue Pen from the clutches of Merlin!’ message to his feet. Seconds later, he found himself standing next to Pen, who was nodding politely to an anecdote about the detrimental effects of coastal erosion on Dragon’s Mouth. Fascinating, Colin snarked internally. Maybe he thought yakking about tectonic plate shifts constituted dirty talk.
“Hi, nice to meet you. Colin Bridgerton.” He extended a hand to Lucifer, who looked surprised at their conversation being interrupted, before he rallied and shook Colin’s hand quickly.
“Alfred Debling. Pleasure.”
Not mine.
“I hope it’s alright if I interrupt, Alvin. I haven’t had a moment alone with Pen all night.”
“It’s Alfred,” the beady-eyed snake corrected, at the same time as Pen said, “We’ve only been here half an hour.”
“Thirty minutes too long without your company, then,” Colin smiled at her, putting an arm around her shoulder and tugging her firmly into his side.
“Do you have a fever?” Pen asked him, wriggling out of his grasp and looking at Antwon apologetically.
“Nope,” Colin replied blithely, too enchanted by her glittering cornflower eyes to even pretend Atticus was standing nearby. “Just missed you.”
He tucked a soft strand of her hair behind her ear, resisting the urge to just bury his face in her hair and sniff at her like Ant used to do with Kate when he thought no one was looking.
“We spent the day together,” Pen murmured, looking thoroughly confused at his behaviour, though Colin couldn’t help notice the slight flush on her cheeks when his fingertip grazed the shell of her ear. Feeling his heart thump a little harder at the sight, he moved closer to her again.
“Have I told you how beautiful you look?”
Her blush deepened, making his blood surge hotter down his veins. She looked down at her dress, tugging a little at the fabric nervously.
“Thanks… El and I are really into regency lately, but you know that…”
“I do,” Colin verified softly, immensely pleased at this reference to how well-acquainted they were. “I do know that.”
“I was about to ask Penelope if she’d like to join me for a dance,” Astor broke in, sounding as though he smelled something rotten.
“Oh, I already signed Penelope’s dance card for the evening,” Colin retorted. “The waltz, the quadrille, the tango and the lambada. Might even throw in a macarena if she asks me to.”
Pen put a hand to her forehead, looking at Colin as though he were an unruly toddler.
“I don’t think there are going to be any formal dances.”
“Then I’ll take all your metaphorical dances, milady,” Colin preened, reaching down to raise her hand to his mouth and graze a tender kiss across her knuckles.
Pen’s mouth fell open at the romantic gesture, and she coloured further when he didn’t relinquish his hold on her hand, squeezing her gloved fingers.
“Are you cosplaying regency as some sort of joke?” she asked, though she didn’t immediately pull her hand away, which bolstered his confidence immensely.
“If it pleases you,” he dropped his voice to a stage whisper, “I’ll gladly be your gentleman suitor.”
“I should leave you both to it,” an annoyed-sounding voice came from their side, making Colin turn to glare at the serial killer eyes staring at him. He had all but forgotten Alan was still standing there.
“Oh, you don’t have to–” Pen began, right as Colin insisted, “Thanks, that’d be brill.”
Pen jabbed him in the side with her elbow.
“Colin!”
“What?”
“Where the hell are your manners?”
“It’s not bad manners to want to spend some quality time with my favourite person.”
“How much have you had to drink?”
“Not a sip.”
“So you don’t even have alcohol to blame for the fact that you’re acting like a neanderthal?”
“I’m not–”
“Alfred left.”
“What?”
“While you’re acting like… this, Alfred has gone.”
Colin looked in the direction Pen indicated, noting with glee that Angelo was shuffling away to bore someone else.
“Thank. Fuck.”
Pen glared at him, yanking her hand out of his, startling him.
“If this is some kind of joke at my expense, it really isn’t funny.”
And without waiting for him to defend himself, she left Colin standing in the middle of the room, shamefaced at whatever madness had made him act like he’d been raised in a barn.
✧*。(◍•ᴗ•◍) ✧*。
Colin: Are you hiding from me?
Pen: Pompous much?
Colin: It’s not pomposity, I’d deserve it if you were hiding from me. That’s why I’m asking
Pen: Yes
Colin: Would it help if I told you I’ve come to my senses and promise not to act like a twat anymore?
Pen: No
Colin: Would it help if I apologized in person? 🥺
Pen: Probably
Colin: Where are you?
Pen: Roof
Colin: You alone?
Pen: No, Alfred and I are naked and making slow, sweet love under the stars
Pen: Wanna watch?
Colin: Oh god
Colin: I’m coming up. Please don’t run away
Pen: No promises
✧*。(◍•ᴗ•◍) ✧*。
He found Pen standing close to where the roof overlooked the town below, arms folded tightly across her chest as she stared up at the starlit sky. The soft glow from the moon bathed her in warm golden, moonlight snagging on her jewelry and pulling him towards her like a lighthouse on rocky shores.
“Hey.”
She glanced sideways at him for a moment before looking away, shaking her head.
“Mhmm.”
Time to eat some humble pie.
“Pen, I’m sorry…”
“For what, exactly?”
“For acting like a caveman.”
“Uh huh.”
“And being rude to… Angus Arthur Alvin Alan Alfred.”
“Why are you saying his name like you’re having your teeth pulled?” Pen bit out, turning so her back was against the ledge. It was an incredibly unfair advantage that she looked like a Botticelli painting while he looked like an overgrown lemon. Her glare was somehow adding to her beauty, sharpening her soft features into something equal parts stern and thrilling.
“I’m sorry.”
“Yeah. You said that.”
“I meant it.”
“What’s going on with you? If you wanted to ask me to dance, you could’ve just asked. Why did you have to act like a jerk?”
There were only two options in front of him: he could hem and haw, which would serve no purpose other than to tick Pen off further, and possibly push him into entirely untrustworthy territory. Or he could just say fuck it and tell her the truth. He was risking a potential rejection either way, but only one way offered him the chance at something incredible.
Something worth risking everything for.
He looked down at his silly astronaut costume and decided maybe Miles was onto something. Maybe he was supposed to act like he was from another planet, gather his strength from something beyond this earth.
“I wish…” Colin stepped closer to her, taking comfort in the fact that she wasn’t flinching or moving away. “I wish I could actually be an astronaut and have my own rocket ship right now.”
Pen stared up at him, lower lip quivering and breathing deepening.
“Why?”
“Because…” Colin stepped close enough to share the same oxygen as her, inhaling the heady scent of her body and letting it embalm his senses. He leaned down to brush his lips on her forehead, making her gasp. “Because then I could go to the sky and pull the stars down and give them to you. Prove to you that when I say I love you, they aren’t just words.”
Pen pushed at his chest lightly, staring up at him in shock.
“Are you aware of what you just said?”
“Yes.”
“We’re…" she closed her eyes, taking deep breaths for a long moment. “Aren’t we friends?”
“Of course we are.”
“So when–”
“I don’t know,” he answered honestly. “It wasn’t like a thunderbolt, at least not until tonight. I just know being with you is better than not being with you. All the time.”
“Are you sure you’re not just caught up in the spirit of the evening?” she insisted, twirling strands of her own hair around her fingers nervously. “I’m dressed all fancy and maybe seeing someone else flirt with me made you feel possessive…”
“You do look especially beautiful tonight,” Colin agreed, his heart standing still while he waited for her acquiescence. “But I’ve seen you in your trackies. And pyjamas. And when you haven’t washed your hair in a few days, or you’ve pulled a late night and there are dark circles under your eyes. And you’re just as beautiful to me then.”
“Now you’re just saying that,” she whispered, blushing that beautiful rosy colour again. Colin couldn’t help but step entirely into her space, resting his hands on the stone ledge on either side of her, caging her in.
“Now you know that’s a lie. I don’t say what I don’t mean.”
“You also don’t usually stand this close to me.”
“Oh, it’s a night for trying new things, I suppose,” he teased, bending down to kiss her forehead once more. Her hands came up to his chest, digging into the heavy material of his costume.
“This is a bit…”
“It really is,” he nodded, his mouth sliding sideways to kiss her temple.
“Can I be honest with you?”
Ignoring the anxious gallop of his heartbeats at that ominous statement, he swallowed and pulled back.
“Please.”
But she didn’t look as though she was gearing up to let him down gently. If anything, she suddenly looked rather mischievous.
“I always imagined this moment would involve you wearing something less ridiculous.”
Relief flooded his whole body at her words.
“Oh?” he drawled, drawing her close by the waist to nuzzle his nose against hers. “Been imagining this, have you?”
“Oh shut up.” The words were balmy against his mouth, which was inching painstakingly closer to hers. “It was a hypothetical…”
“So hypothetically…” He kissed the corner of her mouth, savored the little hitch in her breath. “If I were to…” A kiss on the other corner. “Say I want to kiss you… hypothetically, of course…” Letting his lips find hers with a ghost of a press, barely enough contact to count. Feeling his own lungs constricting at the sight of her vulnerable expression, her chin tipped up. “Could I?”
Her eyes snapped open, dark and inviting, the faintest hint of a smile turning up at one side of her face.
“You could…” She stood on her tiptoes and wound her arms around his neck, his own grasp tightening at her back. “Or, you could wait until after I tell you I love you, too. Ridiculous astronaut costume and all.”
If she hadn’t been anchoring him to reality at that moment, Colin would have fainted out of delirium at her feet. As it was, he had more pressing matters to attend to.
“Imagine that.”
And then there were no more words between them, except the sounds of greedy mouths finding each other, hungry hands roaming everywhere they could reach, and the stars twinkling brightly above them.
