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don't say i didn't warn you.

Part 1 of 2.

Warning: chock full of cliches, 95% lazy dialogue. no research done beyond 4 youtube clips and one wikipedia article. o god who wants to britpick for me, i was never in HP, i can't handle this.

i. Since we've got to France it's been especially bad.

"--by the architect Jean le Noir, whose English name would translate to something like 'Jack the Black'." The tour guide smiled broadly at this, and Angel laughed dutifully.

"He's a very beau garcon," he whispered at her when the group moved ahead to the next door in the courtyard.

"Oh do shut up," she said, but without venom. Angel was a good sport, it was one of the things he liked about her.

"It's the accent, isn't it. You've gone off Irish accents already in favor of French. 'Ar-shee-tect'."

She crossed her arms. "I only said that to make him feel more comfortable and you know it. Don't make me sound like I'm, I'm preying on infants."

"He's not actually a child, you know." It came out rather petulant, and she eyed him in a way that made him widen his eyes innocently at her.

"Bradley, be nice," she admonished.

"What? I plan to be very nice to him. In fact, the only way we're all going to survive being cooped up together for six months is if we all adore each other."

"Well, I adore Colin already."

"Oh really? Hey, guess what," he raised his voice, and Angel made frantic "shhh, shhh" motions at him.


They both darted looks at Colin, but he was oblivious, gazing up and around the broad space of the courtyard.

It was, Bradley could admit, rather stunning, as courtyards went. By far the most impressive set he'd ever been on, and Colin didn't even have the decency to be properly intimidated. He was smiling, almost grinning, and apparently so absorbed that he failed to notice the rest of the group disappearing up a stairway.

Bradley walked up behind him and said, slightly louder than was perhaps strictly necessary, "I think we're done with the courtyard."

Colin blinked and turned his head. "Oh. So we are," and walked off the rejoin the rest of the group. He even picked the right door, somewhat annoyingly.

"Thanks for not leaving me behind, Bradley," he called towards Colin's retreating back. "You're a good man, Bradley!"

"Very princely of you," Colin's mild brogue drifted back through the quiet, damp morning air.

"Princely--Was that a joke?" But there was no response, and then he suddenly realized that he was standing alone in the March sunshine, and scrambled to catch up.

They were in France, and filming would start tomorrow, and he was going to crack the nut that was Colin Morgan if it killed him.


It wasn't so much that Colin was unfriendly. Colin was friendly, and polite, and--and that was just it. He was friendly and polite, and he learned all his lines and went around being likeable and evidently, telling jokes to people. Other people.

"The entire crew practically simpers over him," he'd complained to Angel one day over their obligatory coffee, because neither of them were morning people and a shot of espresso was the bare minimum needed to look royal at six in the bloody morning. Apparently the camera crews had to be there even earlier; he pitied their lot.

"Are you saying you don't like him?" she mumbled, closing her eyes and inhaling the steam.

"What? No, of course I'm not saying that--that I don't like him."

"Good, because I wouldn't believe you."

"It's just that I don't quite get it. Is it the Irish thing? Because I know you like his accent."

"Yes, Bradley, you must be right. Everyone adores him because because he's from Ireland. Just like Katie, I might add."

Ignoring her long-suffering tone, he snapped his fingers and pointed to her. "It's because he's the title character, isn't it."

"You know, if we titled the show 'Arthur', I highly doubt anyone would be cooing over you."

"You--you really are very, very badly named. You're not angelic at all, are you."

Sip, sip. "I do my best," but her eyes were smiling over the cup.

"But you love me," he declared. She did; in fact, she was possibly the only one who didn't seem to like Morgan better.

"A little bit."

"A lot."

"A very little bit."

"I bring you coffee," he pointed out.

"Well, you're good for something then, aren't you?" she said cheerfully. "You could always bring him coffee."

"He doesn't drink it."

She raised her eyebrows at him. It was especially effective, coming from under the rim of her black cap.


"How do you know that?"

"Oh, well. Katie brought him a cup one day, and he just took it and thanked her but then he didn't really drink it. He left it there."

"Why would he do that?"

"How should I know? Maybe he's allergic to coffee, or maybe he's a morning person." Whatever the reason, he wasn't about to waste perfectly good caffeine on someone who couldn't appreciate it.

"Bradley, I know this is kind of a radical idea, but you could just get to know him yourself. Maybe then you'd figure out what's so, you know, charming about him."

"It isn't as if I haven't tried! I swear, it's as if he's, he's wary of me, or something."

"This wouldn't have anything to do with the fact that you're complaining about him behind his back all the time, would it?"

"I don't know what you mean, I never talk about people behind their--" Just then, he caught sight of Colin ambling toward them, already dressed in his servant outfit.

"Make-up wants you to stop by," he said as he approached, jerking a thumb at the trailer.

"Right, thanks," Bradley said at the same time as Angel said, "Morning, Colin."

There was a slightly uncomfortable pause, and then Colin said, "Is it all it's cracked up to be?"

"Is what?"

"The coffee. French coffee."

"Oh yes, it's lovely," Angel said immediately. "Not as lovely as the wine, maybe. But nice, still."

"Expensive. But lovely," Bradley agreed. And then, struck by impulse, "I haven't touched mine yet, do you want to--" he made an indicative gesture with the hand not holding the cup.

"No thanks. I like mine with obscene amounts of cream and sugar."

"Aha," Bradley said, perhaps a bit too triumphantly. Colin looked at him strangely.

"I'll be going to make-up now," Bradley said, and fled.

Behind him, Colin said something to Angel that made her laugh.

In front of the mirror, he mouthed, "Note to self: stop talking about Colin behind his back."

"So, how did the first day go?" Lydia-from-Makeup bustled in, rubbing her hands together briskly. "Get the hang of sword-fighting yet, love?"

"It's only the second day of filming," he told her. "My aim's bound to improve."


They were sitting down for lunch, having temporarily traded tunics for t-shirts because Noira-from-Costumes had threatened to kill them if she found any anachronistic condiment stains.

"Right, so we'd have a great big spot of blood instead of ketchup," Colin had deadpanned.

"I'd take you out of the costumes, then kill you," she replied, but her face was already softening into a smile. Typical, really.

"This bread is really superb," he noted. "I think I'm ruined for English sandwiches."

"Mmf," Colin agreed.

"Wonder if Katie will want all of hers."

"Pig," he heard somewhat indistinctly, and his heart warmed.

"What? Swinging a sword around is hard work, I'll have you know."

"You didn't do any fighting yet today," Colin swallowed and pointed out.

"Well, it's not my fault that you and Richard have spent the entire episode poking at gruesome dead people," biting into the sandwich.

He looked up when the silence grew a bit long, and was surprised to see Colin looking rather thoughtful.

"That scene, the one where I try to confess and you say I'm in love to pass it off as a joke--you always say it like you don't actually believe it."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean you keep saying it like Arthur's just trying to convince your father, like he doesn't actually think I'm in love with Gwen."

He stopped chewing on the excellent sandwich long enough to think. It was a serious work question, and deserved a serious work answer. Which he, as a serious actor, was going to give. Because Colin was, if nothing else, quite serious about his work.

"I think," he placed his sandwich down and clasped his knees for extra emphasis, "I think Arthur doesn't much care if Merlin's in love, as long as his father believes it. That's why he tries to make it sound ridiculous, see? Because as long as Uther is laughing about it, he's not going to be angry, or suspicious. You can't hang a bloke you've been having a good laugh at, it's just not on."

Colin nibbled at the edge of his sandwich. "So you don't think Arthur necessarily believes it. That Merlin's just doing it for Gwen."

"Well, we're in a bit of trouble if I figure it out in the third episode, there's still eight more of the damn things to go."

"Couldn't it be, I donno, tucked into his subconscious somewhere?" Colin chewed reflectively. "Mm, you're right. This sandwich is fine."

"I said so, didn't I?" he said. "What's it got in it, anyway."

"Some kind of half-hearted egg salad."

"Mm, this roast beef is lovely. Just lovely. I love the taste of tender dead cow. You're missing out, Morgan."

"That was totally unnecessary." Colin rolled his eyes.

"No, no, I think it was needed," Bradley said, but absently.

He had an idea, a new plan for his campaign.


"Want to give it a bit of a read-through before tomorrow?" He brandished the script at Colin by way of explanation for knocking on his door at ten p.m.

Colin looked as if he would be confused if he dared. "Didn't we go over it then?"

"Right, but there were a few things I wanted to ask you about," and he gave Colin the most charming smile he could manage without looking smarmy.

"We don't actually do much talking in this episode, do we." It was a statement, made as Colin flipped through the pages of the script, sitting cross-legged on his bed.

"Well, not to each other, not exactly. But that wasn't my point." He stretched his arms over his head and left them against the headboard, slumping into Colin's pillows. They were softer than his, he was prepared to swear.

"Well?" Colin's mouth was quirked in a small smile, shadowed by a faint black stubble. It was surprising how much older it made him look, that bit of stubble. Evidently he shaved in the mornings.

"Well what?"

"Well, what was your point then in barging in here then?"

"Can't a fellow barge into his cast-mate's room and ask a few simple questions without, without getting grilled like a person with really malicious intent?" He was scrambling a bit mentally, and Colin's smile was threatening to become a grin.

"All right, ask away." Colin spread his arms.

"So, what do you think about the importance of professional bonding?"

"Excuse me?"

"Do you think that it's very important that our cast and crew get along?"

"Of course I do, but what're you getting at--"

"Good," he interrupted. "Because there's this apparently fantastic little pub that Anthony's found, only about four blocks away from here," and for a second he thought that Colin was going to shake his head, but he ploughed on. "I think you should come out with us, you know, see if the French know anything about beer."

"I--I donno, it's kind of late, I wasn't really planning--"

"I bet they're absolutely rubbish at it. French for wines, German for beers, right?"

Colin hesitated, and Bradley held his breath.

"I'll have you know that it's French for wines, Irish for beers," he said, and Bradley exhaled, laughed.

"Bradley," Angel's shout came down the corridor, "Have you got him yet?"

"Yeah," he called back, and seized Colin's elbow in a tight, but friendly, grip. "Yeah, we're coming."


"Well done, Colin Morgan, there's nothing," shaking his finger, "Nothing like a pint to break the ice."

"Didn't we already break the ice?"

"But! We didn't break it yet in France," accompanied by finger-waggling, and Colin laughed. An actual, out-loud laugh like the kind Bradley sometimes heard from halfway across the set.

He grinned, and took a swig.


"Another question about scripts, is it?" Colin said patiently. He was already in his pajamas, long blue flannel pants thoroughly faded from countless washings.

"No. No, actually, I wanted to show you something."

Colin was already moving back from the door, asking, "How did you know I was still up?"

"I could hear you in the shower. I mean, not that I was listening to you," and watched the tips of Colin's ears go scarlet with a sense of doom. "It's a bloody old hotel though, and the faucets squeak like anything, I daresay you can hear them in Angel's room. Not that I listen to her showering, either."

"Right, well," Colin said, looking nonplussed. Bradley clearly couldn't blame him. "What was it you wanted to show me?"

"This." He handed Colin the video camera. "I had a bit of time in the afternoon and went exploring. It's a brilliant castle, really, and we don't get to use much of it. Here," he leaned over, "Just press play."

He winced a little at the rambling monologue. There was a lot of it; it had taken a mind-boggling number of flights to reach the top. But Colin's head stayed bent over the small playback screen, watching intently. He chuckled at the line about the lift, and Bradley stopped listening to the tinny echo of his voice.

He nearly startled when Colin asked abruptly, "Where was I, when you were filming this?"

"Doing one of the scenes in the lab, I think. With Richard. View's pretty spectacular, isn't it?"

"Yeah. Yeah, it really is."

Looking at Colin's profile, shadowed by the reading lamp, he cleared his throat. "Should take the girls next time. Angel's always complaining that she misses a good workout."

"We could do that," Colin said, and looked pleased.

Bradley thought, If I got that smile on camera, they'd go mad over him.

And thought, Why the hell not?


After that, it wasn't so hard. It was amazing, really, how many excuses there were for knocking on Colin's door. A truly ridiculous French movie, a question about the next day's filming, a whacking great spider in the bathtub. All of it dutifully recorded for posterity, and Colin's fanbase.

"You're shoving that thing in my face twenty times a day," Colin argued, "There's no way all the footage is making it onto the DVD."

"I'm doing it for our fans," he explained.

"Yeah, because our fans are going to want to see me eating a pizza. And stare up your nostrils."

"Oooh, he's got such dreamy lips," he mimicked in response, 'I'd give anything to, to be that slice of pizza."

Colin choked, and Bradley made sure to tape that bit too.

At night, sometimes, he went over the clips. He'd intended to delete the ones that weren't funny or interesting, but ultimately after several viewings he decided to let the directors make the cuts.

In the process of creating the ultimate backstage documentary, he made several interesting discoveries about Colin, such as the fact that it was his eyebrows that telegraphed when he was put out. And that when he was drunk, his accent got harder to understand. And that Colin really didn't enjoy interviews. And that he did enjoy strawberries, but thought Bradley was an idiot for paying so much for them.

("I feel obligated now to tell you they're the most amazing strawberries."

"Well, are they?"

"I'm not sure. Give me another one.")

The greatest discovery, however, was that Colin--serious, reserved, oh-he's-so-sweet Colin!--was as willing to indulge in a stupid prank as Bradley himself.

"And why is it always me?" Angel demanded, after being woken by a spirited rendition of "We are the Busby Boys," via hotel telephone.

She sounded grumpier than was her wont, and so both Bradley and Colin hung their heads in shame. It worked particularly well when Colin did it; he looked genuinely abashed.

"Because you're like our big sister, we love you and demonstrate our affection by trying to drive you mad."

"Because," Colin said slowly, "You seem less likely to kill us and hide the bodies in the woods."

"He means you're really sweet," Bradley whispered loudly.

She tried to glare at them a moment longer, but her wrath had slipped away and her mouth was twitching. "You're a bad influence on him, Bradley."

"I've no idea what you're talking about. I'm the best thing that's ever happened to him," he said loftily.

"I donno what you're talking about, my life's not that sad," Colin informed him flatly.

Angel only looked at the two of them and then shook her finger, adopting a tone that wished it were menace.

"Bradley James, you are going to be so terribly sorry if you ever interrupt my sleep again."

"Wait, why is it all my fault?"

"It was his idea, wasn't it," she looked to Colin for confirmation. He shrugged.

She shook her head. "To think I ever wished that you would get along better."

"Who, Colin and me? We're practically best mates," Bradley said cheerily, at the same time that Colin replied, "Don't worry, I still think he's obnoxious."

"It's odd how he grows on you, though," Angel commented. "Like mould, almost."

Colin lifted his eyebrows and pouted his lips in thought, then nodded agreeably. "Does, doesn't he."

The mould in question was somewhat distracted by the spectacle of Colin pouting. Then-- "Wait, you thought I was obnoxious?" He turned to Colin abruptly.

"And that's my cue to go back to sleep," Angel said, slipping back into her room.

"A bit. Maybe. At first."

"But you don't think I'm obnoxious anymore, do you." He crossed his arms, and wished for the millionth time that he were two inches taller.

He also wished he sounded a bit less serious.

"Not so much," Colin allowed. "Not so much as I used to."

He clamped down on his outrage. "Well, good. Because our friendship is supposed to be the stuff of legends."

"Is it, now."

"Absolutely epic."

"Really. Bradley, you do know that," and here Colin hesitated a bit.

"Know what?" he asked, perhaps a bit too quickly.

"That," Colin seemed to be struggling to get the words out, "you're not really a prince," and here his straight face dissolved, "But it's all right. You can still be a prat, I promise."

"Oh, so I'm an obnoxious prat, I see."

"Not always," and the laughter faded into the small, secretive smile that he thought of as truly Colin's, so different from Merlin's guileless grin.

He let himself bask, just a little.


When he looked back and tried to figure out just where he'd bollocksed it all up, he generally went with the night of the staff party celebrating the deal for the second season.

The night started off well enough. It started off really nicely, even, with a satisfying dinner at Le Palais Gourmand, where the fare was surprisingly good for the prices offered.

"I think this is the first decent steak I've had since we got here," he observed, closing his eyes in bliss.

"That's a very unhealthy obsession you've got there," Colin noted. "We're in a land that's famous for its gourmet food and its local cuisines, and all you care about is finding a place that does a good 'bifteck'."

"You, sir, can keep your, your pates and your fromages. Me, I will be over here, happily eating my dead cow." He stuck a piece in his mouth, and chewed happily. "Which is excellente. Superbe."

"Happily," Katie interrupted quickly, "We can all agree on wine. Let me top you up, Colin."

There was a good deal of topping up going on all around, and perhaps a bit more than there should have been. When the bill arrived, he let out a low whistle. "It's just as well the company's paying for this one," and handed it to Colin, whose eyes popped almost comically wide.

"Mother of Christ. How much would that work out to per person?"

"In pounds or in Euros?" He was aiming for sarcasm, but the words came out less than sharp. Possibly he'd had just a bit too much, going toast after toast with Anthony, but Colin looked far worse.

Positively glassy-eyed, he thought, and wished for his camera.

"Pounds, of course."

"I've just drunk half the wine in France and you want me to do maths? Bugger off, you, you...evil sorcerer."

"We all ought to be getting back to our rooms," observed Katie. "We're still filming tomorrow, after all. Better sleep it off," giving a friendly pat to Colin's head. It rolled beneath her touch.

"Time to get our title character home, I think."

"I'm fine," Colin shouted, and it sounded like "foine", which meant that Colin was quite drunk indeed. Sober Colin, Bradley also knew, did not shout.

"The bus is ready," someone else said, and they piled out the door.

The night air was cool and woke him up momentarily. Once on the bus, however, the heavy food and wine began to pull him down. They rumbled over a seemingly endless country road, and he woke with a start when Colin's head landed on his shoulder.

He left it there, sleepy enough that he couldn't be bothered to shove it off.

They stumbled off the bus in a bleary herd, even Richard looking a touch worn-out. Colin was a shambling mess of yawns and sleepy blinks, leaning against the panels of the lift as soon as they stepped in.

"Come on, Larry Lightweight, we're almost there."

"Feck off," Colin mumbled, but followed obediently.

He led Colin back to his room, and then watched in some amusement as Colin fumbled with the key.

"Here, let me," and reached around him. But Colin was apparently not only uncoordinated but also stubborn when shitfaced, and so a minor struggle ensued.

"Hey, you've got really strong wrists," he remarked somewhat breathlessly, in the aftermath of a hard-won victory.

"I know. They should let me have a go at the swordfighting bits sometimes. I bet I'd be brilliant."

"You'd be bollocks at it, that's precisely why I'm the princely hero and you get to talk to big green screens and mumble nonsense."

"I'd be brilliant," Colin repeated, and Bradley laughed.

"You, my young friend, are very, very drunk."

"I'm not that drunk. And I'm not that young, I hate it when you do that."

"Do what?" Colin's face was swaying slightly closer towards his, and it was very disconcerting.

"Talk to me like I'm, I'm just, I'm a year younger than you, and that's nothin'. I'm not an innocent."

"Hey, okay, not happy about being the youngest cast member, got it," he held up his hands to indicate that he came in peace, and then got on with fumbling the key into the lock.

"There, all set," he straightened with some relief, as the door finally swung open.

"Why are you always doin' that?"

"Opening...doors for you, you mean?" He began to wonder if perhaps he hadn't underestimated French wine. Maybe it really only kicked in after a few hours.

"Coming into my room! Filming me on your camera."

"I didn't think it bothered you, mate. I was just being friendly." His hands felt very cold, and it was somewhat difficult to breathe in the face of Colin's sudden indignation.

"It doesn't--it doesn't bother me. I like it. At first I thought you were takin' the piss out of me."

"I wasn't. I'm not," he protested swiftly.

"I know that. I just, I don't know. The other day I was looking through your camera, and I had this thought, 'It's all me.'"

"It's all...you?"

"Oh, there's bits of the others, and there's a lot of you, to be sure. But it's mostly me."

His throat was dry now. Colin was looking at him as if staring were perfectly acceptable behavior, along with...vague accusations. He licked his lips. "We're the co-stars, you know, people are going to want a lot of us."

"And that's why you do it. For the fans."

Colin's face was so close he could smell sour wine on his breath. "Well, since you asked," aiming for levity, "There's no denying that...there's something about you, Colin--"

He wasn't sure who moved first, but suddenly their mouths were pressed together, firm and unyielding. Colin's hands were flexing against his shoulders, he noted with a very small part of his mind.

"All right, inside," he said as they jerked apart, Colin's eyes startled wide, but without anger.

"This," he said as he walked them to the bed, Colin stumbling backwards and falling flat onto the sheets as his knees hit the side. "Is a really bad idea."

"We have those all the time," Colin murmured, and proceeded to shove his hands up Bradley's long-sleeve shirt.

"God," he gasped, almost collapsing onto Colin's narrow chest. "Ok then, I guess we're just going to keep on."

Colin turned his head to the left, and Bradley gave in, mouthed gently along the rigid line of tendon down to his chest. He began unbuttoning Colin's shirt, then gave up and tugged up the hem until Colin's arms lifted obediently.

In the lamplight the sight of Colin, bare from the waist up, was almost too much. There was a riot in his chest. He felt unsure if he were actually awake. Maybe it was all one of those spectacularly embarrassing dreams you couldn't admit to having in the morning. "Colin, are you sure about this."

"Why are you still talking?" Colin asked in muzzy disbelief, and pulled him down.

If it was a dream, Bradley decided, he didn't fucking care. It felt fantastic, and he kissed his way down to the waist of Colin's faded jeans, brushed his knuckles across the fly. Felt Colin stiffen and whisper, "Yeah," the sound making his own cock twitch in his boxers.

Slowly now, he chanted in his head. Don't cock this one up.

So he forced himself to go slow, rolling Colin onto his side, kissing his shoulder blades and laying his hand flat against the smooth skin of his stomach.

He was sliding his hand down Colin's hip and wondering if it would be too much to place his stiffening dick in the crevice of Colin's arse when he heard a sound that made him stiffen in an entirely different way.

"Colin," he said quietly, and then a little louder. "Colin!"

Faint snore, again.

He lay flat on his back and stared at the ceiling with the expression of a martyr. But gradually, it dawned on him that possibly, just possibly, he'd been saved.

He got up gingerly, and went to the door. Colin never stirred as he let himself out.

"You're an idiot," he said to his reflection in the bathroom mirror. "A total, complete, moronic idiot. You're lucky he was so drunk he probably won't even remember what happened."

Then he took a shower and jerked off furiously, thinking of Colin's mouth falling open, his long white torso emerging from the shirt, the feel of curling around Colin, the barest touch of his hand against the bulge in Colin's jeans.

He didn't feel quite satisfied when he was done. And when he'd toweled off and lain down on his own bed in the dark, he didn't feel quite lucky either.


EDIT: for those of you who know what's happened, i know it might seem strange that i could think of something so frivolous right now. all i can say is, it helps take my mind away. and for those of you who don't know what's happened, i'm sorry that part 2 might be a few days in coming.

i hope you all enjoyed this. thanks to cathy, meri, chrissie and subdee for patiently tolerating my rambling. i may not be able to respond for a few days, but please leave feedback if you liked? i could really, really use a smile.
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<3 to you too, hon. thank you for your late night support.
I love you. This is amazing! ♥

And I would totally offer to britpick for you (anytime!) but this... doesn't need it. :p The only thing I noticed was we say "top up" (a drink) not "off".

Regardless, I adored your charcterisations, and the dialogue, and it was just so much fun to read! Will look forward to the rest, whenever you get it done. :)
ty love <3 i appreciate the correction and made it already XDDDD i will try to get the next part up asap, but circumstances are rather miserable right now. =/

LOOK I TOLD YOU IT WAS CLICHE OK I NEVER PRETENDED OTHERWISE. it's really only going to get WORSE from here, with lots of awkward moping and pining and shit. srsly, if you don't like schmoop, GET OUT NOW.

(am i succeeding in making you like bradley yet.)

(a;sldfkj i've always liked bradley, I JUST LIKE COLIN BETTER and so doe he so whatever, we're even)
Okay okay in all seriousness:

1. I adore your dialogue. ALL OF IT, EVERY LINE, I WANT TO DUNK IT IN MY COFFEE AND EAT IT UP. It's always been my favorite part of your writing, because it comes so naturally but so funny and witty at the same time, like these lines:

"It's because he's the title character, isn't it."

"You know, if we titled the show 'Arthur', I highly doubt anyone would be cooing over you."

"You--you really are very, very badly named. You're not angelic at all, are you."

SO EPIC. So good. I also love how you convey so clearly Colin's sort of reserved, quiet nice boy-ness, and then he gets riotously drunk and it's like almost sex in and of itself because he loosens up and starts having emotions and okay, I love the exchange about Colin eating pizza, and then the strawberries, and then when Colin is all ALL THE VIDEOTAPES ARE OF ME I died, I really really died.

2. Also that section is my favorite, the bit after Bradley starts filming him like ALL THE TIME, just because they're such boys and Angel is so OH GOD LEAVE ME ALONE AND LET ME SLEEP, and how you mirror their ways of talking, with Colin's short terse almost-sarcastic sentences, and Bradley's kind of indignant way of talking ALL THE TIME and when it collides during that "really Bradley you're not actually a prince" conversation, oh bb, it's so good.

3. I think my only complaint is the way you use section breaks? I'm not sure if it's a stylistic thing or a pacing thing, but I feel like there are better ways to use them. For instance, here:

Altogether, it was going brilliantly, it really was.

Until the staff party to celebrate the second season.


The night started off well enough.

If it were me, I'd put the section break before "Until the staff party to celebrate..." so that it'd look like this:

Altogether, it was going brilliantly, it really was.


Until the staff party to celebrate the second season.

The night started off well enough.

Again, this is kind of a style issue-- I tend to like stories where section breaks are, I don't know how to put this, less abrupt or less direct? For instance, I really love the break between "My aim's bound to improve" and "they were sitting down for lunch". But I think the breaks after "Because Colin Morgan was very serious about his work" and "To broken ice, then" seem kind of forced. In fact, I think both those lines themselves sound a little forced, and both sections would do perfectly well without them. But it's really up to you-- it's just something that I noticed when I was reading.

4. COLIN YOU MAGNIFICENT COCKSUCKER I LOVE YOU SO MUCH. "Why are you still talking?" Colin asked in muzzy disbelief. I CAN'T BELIEVE YOU FELL ASLEEP AHHHHH I LOVE YOU SO MUCH. Oh Aki. Please finish the story and I hope Bradley pays Colin back tenfold for making him jerk off by himself in the shower instead.
dearest cathy-cathy-bo-bathy,

ty for liking my dialogue XDD it is an immense relief to me, as this story is 95% lame conversations that i make up in my head. somewhere along the line i realized that i was turning bradley into some kind of gay hugh grant, but as i've never really written a traditional romcom i thought it might be fun to indulge. i highly doubt people are really much for witty talk irl; most of their conversation is no doubt mundane, but WE CAN PRETEND I ONLY FISHED OUT THE WITTY BITS. not that bradley is the sharpest cheese in the market, mind.

i fixed the section breaks! or tried XD c'mon, i wrote it in one night, i was tired and pretty much emotionally bankrupt. it's only gotten worse, so i don't know how the next section is going to sound. it'll be a real exercise in compartmentalization, or escapism, if i can manage it.

(i'm glad you liked their voices; i'm kind of struggling to keep them sounding "true" to the TINY BITS I'VE SEEN; interviews are so fake and even the DVD specials are staged, so i'm trying to go for something that seems plausible! PLZ TELL ME IF I FAIL, i.e. i make either of them say something you don't think they would?? was pretty dubious about colin's drunk!persona, wrote that when i was half asleep and really really really distracted.)

also, yes. they're kind of going to be punished, both of them =/ srsly i think this takes the cliche cake, with frosting and nuts and everything.
some kind of gay hugh grant

NO OMG AKI THIS IS THE BEST IDEA EVER, PLEASE DON'T MAKE THIS OUT TO BE A BAD THING, that is exactly what Bradley is turning out to be and it's so great. It is a really traditional romcom but you do write it so well, and dude, why else do we read fiction and watch movies if it isn't so we can indulge in witty talk and cleverisms and clumsy people being sharp? Otherwise I'd just go people watching. SO PLZ TO CONTINUE making up conversations in your head and writing them in your stories.

well darling aki, I have faith in you and your stories, and we will all patiently wait with great love and anticipation for whenever you grace us with the second half which will no doubt be full of HILARIOUS COMEUPPANCE.

(Definitely! I tried imagining the lines in Colin's accent and A+++ Aki, anyway he is drunk, you don't really have much of a distinct persona when drunk, most drunk people are.... somewhat the same after a while ahhahahah. And anyway, bb, you are the best writer I know for boy-dialogue.)

*hearts, lots of hearts*
/target tonberri


/e wishes Kara a lovely time in Northrend!
Thanks to cathy, meri, chrissie and subdee for patiently tolerating my rambling
I don't know what you're talking about! When did that happen?

This is great. XD Brilliant, lovely, genuinely, rubbish, bloody, mad, mould, riot, maths, bugger off, shambling, taking the piss - I'd say you have the Brit thing well in hand. Not sure about "chap" though - feels too jolly-old-boy to me, not to mention stereotypical. Not that I'd know, haha.

Other things that feel American to me: 1) "rather awesome" - awesome is THE most American word, like, ever; 2) "apparently telling jokes to people" - the other apparentlys don't ping, but this one does for some reason. Maybe it's the "Buffy" vibe?

He lay flat on his back and stared at the ceiling with the expression of a martyr. But gradually, it dawned on him that possibly, just possibly, he'd been saved.
I love this line more than words can express! It's just, so clever.

One last thing: "I feel obligated now to tell you they're the most amazing strawberries now."
Double "now".
fixed all three of those things, thanky love. wish i actually KNEW some british people; it would help with versimilitude -_-

also, i'm POSITIVE i rambled at you enthusiastically about merlin at some point, no?? i've been doing it to everyone else <_< maybe chrissie got the brunt of it! (OH GOD I DIDN'T EVEN REALIZE I SPELLED MOULD THE BRITISH WAY. immersion writing! <3) i'll change apparently to evidently, if that helps? I DO NOT FEEL THAT BRADLEY IS VERY CLEVER XD i might have made him too funny, as he's definitely capable of being serious, but his damned camera voiceovers are irresistably hilarious XD he's SUCH A BOY, it's kind of ridiculous.
if bradley gets a boost for being british with americans, i think it only fair to point out that colin gets a boost EVEN WITH BRITS for being irish XD
That's different. Ireland was a subjugated nation so it's only fair for Irish people to AT LEAST have the soft power of a really awesome accent (ditto Scotland). Britain's cultural capital is rooted in political capital built via Empire. Cultural power AND political power is too much power.

(This is rich coming from an American, I know. But I don't like American Imperialism, either.)
you will never find me arguing with irish people's right to an awesome accent. i figure if all else fails i will go live in ireland for 2 years and come back IRRESISTABLE.

what do irish people say when they're swearing in surprise?

i mean, aside from the stereotypical "jesus, mary and joseph". XD
Don't look at meeeeeee.


Bradley gets an automatic boost from being British. He could say the dumbest, most obvious things in the world and still score points with the American viewers.

You barely touched on it! At least, I feel like I rambled just as much - I though we had a rambling exchange.

I enjoyed this a lot. And, yes please, more would be nice, because well written Merlin RPF that is also funny and smooshily cute is my current favourite thing.
Dear Aki, I thought I've already left you a comment for this wonderful fic of yours:) I love it (as I love all your writing). Your Bradley is funny and moronic and gorgeous and totally love:)

P.S. It's not my business at all, and sorry that I say that, but your gmail chat titles've been really scary since May, and I really hope that whatever's going on, it's gonna get better. ♥♥♥

April 2012

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