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merlinrpf2015-03-10 11:29 pm
hyponymn.livejournal.com) wrote in merlinrpf2015-03-10 11:29 pm
fic: A Case of Mistaken Identity (Multi-chapter, Chapter 4)
Author: 
hyponymn
Title: A Case of Mistaken Identity
Rating: PG-13
Pairing(s): Bradley/Colin, Bradley/Merlin
Summary:Colin Morgan is a really good actor. He doesn't just play a character, he becomes the character. He builds the world of the character, synthesizes the struggles of the character, and dreams about the character. And it just so happens that Colin’s character is exactly the type of cotton-headed ninnymuggins that would fall in love with a familiar, friendly face and a parcel of bad jokes. Bradley heroically understands; he totally recognizes his own awesomeness.
Warnings: frustrated boys (Not even UST. Just frustration.)
Word Count: 2,053
Running Word Count: 7,531
Spoilers: Seasons 1, 2, and 3 are fair game; also video diaries and interviews (if those count as spoilers?!)
If you're new to the story, here's the link to the first chapter: http://merlinrpf.livejournal.com/196423.html
“You could create a new romantic interest,” Bradley suggests. He stares into the dark and waits for Colin to answer. “Hey! Colin. You sleeping?”
“What do you think?”
“Right.” Bradley wiggles his head deeper into the pillow. “So I’m thinking a total bombshell. Super leggy. Dark hair, really curvy—“
“Do you know anything about Merlin?” Colin snorts. “First of all, his type comes with tragic backstories. So unless your bombshell is, I dunno, one legged and has a family history of early deaths, Merlin wouldn’t approach her.”
“That’s feasible.”
“Secondly—“ Colin’s voice takes on a long-suffering edge—“Merlin’s terribly earnest. He sets his heart and sees nothing else. Remember the part where I was avoiding you?”
“Should be an easy fix. Change that aspect.”
“I can’t just decide to change an aspect of Merlin’s character.”
“Sure you can.”
“Actually, no.” Colin sounds like he’s biting the words. “I can’t just slide from infinite earnestness to casual earnestness.”
“Sounds like a pretty precise scale of earnestness—“
“—and especially not when I keep seeing you. When Merlin keeps seeing you.”
“But Merlin’s not gay.” This is something that Bradley knows; he and Colin had had this discussion back in season one, and they had decided to flirt with the chemistry for the sake of fanservice, but not let it lead anywhere.
“You know how obsessed Merlin is with Arthur.”
“Everyone in Camelot is gay for Arthur,” Bradley agrees. “I see your point.”
“That’s not my point. And that’s also not a thing.”
“What’s not?”
“A woman couldn’t be gay for Arthur.”
“Au contraire!” Bradley chirps. “Arthur inspires such a level of bromance that all affections towards him must automatically be considered gay.” Colin doesn’t respond for a moment.
“Pretty sure that’s not a thing.”
“S’Totally a thing.”
“Anyway, Merlin’s not gay for Arthur. It’s Bradley.” Bradley can’t think of anything to say, and after an uncertain silence, Colin continues. “The one he thinks he can have. The one who kept him company and gave him comfort. The one who refused to leave him alone no matter how impossible Merlin made it for him.”
“That was basic friendship 101.”
“Not for Merlin.” Bradley can hear Colin moving about. “Until he came to Camelot, all Merlin had for a friend was Will. And Will was bitter. Merlin loved him, but Will was a toxic friend. They did some pranks as kids, especially once Will figured out about Merlin’s magic. Will used Merlin, and Merlin was okay with it because it made him feel stronger. Needed. Merlin’s not familiar with needing.”
“What was I supposed to do?”
“Merlin thought you were perfect. And he’s sorry that this is causing such a problem.”
Bradley charitably agrees about the part where he’s perfect and flips his pillow over. He’s on the verge of sleep when the next reasonable solution drifts into a solid form.
“You could get you a romantic interest!” he says. Colin doesn’t say anything. “Hey! Colin. You—“
“Yes, I’m awake, and no, it wouldn’t work.”
“Why not? I’m sure we could find you a one-legged bombshell—“
“I’m not exclusively into handicapped women.”
“I’m biting, Morgan. Why wouldn’t it work?”
“I don’t date while filming. It complicates things.”
“Moreso than this does?”
“I tried, Bradley. It’s just really hard because Merlin really likes you a lot and I tried, but he rejected—“
“You’re Merlin. You’re saying that you rejected—“
“Jesus, Bradley, would you let me finish!” Bradley’s no expert on mattress noises, but he’s fairly certain from the general thumping squeaks that Colin is sitting upright in bed.
“You keep acting like Merlin is some pleasant little demon who’s stuck in your body and possesses you on occasion—“
“Let me fucking talk!”
“Nice that you want to talk now.” There’s a strangled yell and a thump, and Bradley reaches for the light. Colin is half on the bed, half on the floor, and one hundred percent tangled in his sheets.
“The part of this that is total shit,” Colin says in a shaking voice, “is that Merlin loves arguing with you. He’s so happy because he has your attention and how we’re roughly equals.” He tears the sheets off the bed and sits, knees folded to his chest, against the bed. “Turn off the light, James. You’ve got an early rise tomorrow.”
“So do you.”
“Leave it.”
Bradley leaves the light on and lies back down. “What were you going to say?” He stares at the ceiling and waits for Colin to find his words. Colin can be ridiculously meticulous with words.
“I talk about Merlin like he’s a separate entity, but it’s not as simple as that. It’s little things, habitual things, that I have all the time. Impulses to help crew, affection for Gwen if Angel is speaking marbles, concern for Arthur, leaving my things a mess but wanting to tidy after others…It’s a lot of little things, and there’s no separation between my thinking thoughts as me and my thinking thoughts as Merlin. I have to search for that distinction. I’m trying to build up that distinction. Does that make sense?” The silence following the question is heavy, and when Bradley turns his head, he sees Colin staring at him.
“None of this makes sense,” Bradley says. “Can you go to bed now?”
“Bradley James, always with an ulterior motive.” Colin switches off the light and crawls back into his bed. Bradley makes a rude hand gesture in reply, and there’s no way Colin can see it, but he still hears Colin laugh. For that second, they feel normal, in synch, and okay.
Bradley fluffs his pillow restlessly and tries to refocus on the problem. There’s no getting rid of Colin or Merlin or Bradley or Arthur, and it’s getting to the point where Colin needs to do a convincing job of being Merlin and seeing Arthur, and in order for that to happen, Bradley has to be Arthur and not Bradley trying to read Colin being Merlin. It’s too much of a clusterfuck, and the problem is overwhelming enough that Bradley can feel sleep starting to creep over him.
Some unknowable amount of time later, Bradley strikes upon another possible solution. A way for Colin’s Merlin bits to see Bradley in his entirety, with all of his strengths and weaknesses and be done with it.
“I could be the romantic interest!” Bradley announces. The words come out louder than he intends and stretch into the dark: irretractable words content to echo and burrow into the shadowy corners of the room. “Hey. Colin? You asleep?”
There’s no response, and Bradley’s mind catches up with him brain enough that he’s glad that Colin’s asleep and he doesn’t have to deal with the repercussions of his proposition.
“Oh for Christ’s sake,” Colin groans.
Bradley was a fantastic host. It was just that, when they had stopped by the apartment earlier, there hadn’t been enough time to show Colin around. But now they were back from the couples’ counselor, he could do the job properly.
“Here’s the kitchen. Mi kitchen es su kitchen. Only not the yogurts. Yeah, actually, scratch the original bit I said. Check with me before you eat anything that’s in here now. We can go for groceries that you eat later.” Colin started at him, and Bradley began rambling. “Careful with the stove—you’re not to touch the burner unless you want to get burned. The burner’s the rings.”
“Do you have any food in your kitchen?” Colin asked hesitantly.
“Of course!” Bradley threw open the fridge. “Don’t climb inside the fridge—not that you can fit, necessarily—but Mum always said not to.” He looked over his shoulder to see Colin staring blankly at Bradley’s milk carton, eggs carton, package of bacon, and butter bin. “You hungry? I could fix toast.”
“Do you have any bread?” Colin asked hesitantly.
“So we’re on the same page.” Bradley summoned two slices of whole grain from his bread box and tossed them into the toaster. He leaned against the counter and pointed out the rest of his kitchen. “That’s the microwave, which is basically magic. But not actually. Don’t put spoons in it. Silverware is in the drawer behind you. Cups in this cabinet—“he slapped the door behind his right shoulder—“ and plates and bowls are in this one.” He gestured over his left shoulder. “We wash by hand here, so make sure you use dish soap and clean between the tines.” One of Bradley’s first roommates was always leaving grains of rice between the tines of Bradley’s forks, and he had developed a peeve with it. “Don’t run with knives. Don’t lick the icebox. Do you like preserves?”
Colin looked overwhelmed, so Bradley pulled out the only two types of preserves worth having—strawberry and rhubarb-and-ginger. He offered Colin a spoon to sample with, and then the toast popped and Colin jumped a good six inches.
“I feel like I have to childproof the apartment, but who knows how that works when your kid is adult-sized,” Bradley said as he slathered up Colin’s toast. “Just don’t go sticking your fingers into sockets and the like, yeah?” He turned and nearly ran into Colin, who had been standing much too close and peering suspiciously over his shoulder at the toaster. He shoved the toast at Colin, creating a little space in between them, and led the way into the living room.
“The couch is all yours. If you like we can rearrange the living room so that you can have some private space, but we’ll have to pull the couch back for when we’re watching the tv. And fortunately for youuu—“ Bradley swung open his DVD cabinet—“I’ve got the first three seasons of Merlin and all the reboot episodes of Dr. Who so you can see yourself in Merlin and as other characters. That’ll be something.” He didn’t mention that he obsessively watched any accessible film featuring his co-stars—which, considering how John Hurt had practically been in half of everything filmed since the 1960’s, was something that he might have been a bit proud of—and owned all major works. Colin stared at the Merlin DVD covers as if he didn’t understand them, which Bradley supposed could very well be the case.
“I’m planning on catching dinner with some of my mates tonight,” Bradley said. “We could watch an episode or two and you could finish off the season while I’m out. I think it’d be best if we found you something simple to do while you’re in.”
Colin’s eyes jumped up to Bradley’s face. “But how am I going to get back?”
“That’s not priority right now,” Bradley said. “We’re trying to make sure you’re as comfortable as possible until this all blows over.”
“But I don’t want to be comfortable!” Colin said. His voice was rising feverishly. “I don’t want to grow accustomed to this place. This world. It’s not—“
“Colin—“
“Merlin!”
Bradley tossed his head impatiently. “Merlin, then. You can have your panic attacks and your freak outs and whatever else you need. Just work with me.”
“Why should I work with you? Why should I trust you?” Colin said. “You even told me yourself that you’re not Arthur. But you still look like him. How’s that?”
“You don’t trust me?” Bradley said. It hadn’t occurred to him that Colin could doubt him. They didn’t even tease each other, really; they were comrades. Indivisible, costar, pranking comrades.
Or not, apparently.
“Why should I trust you?” Colin repeated quietly. His voice verged on begging.
Bradley shook his head and refocused on the conversation. “You don’t have to trust me. That doesn’t mean I can’t be trustworthy. I’m going to do my best to make sure everything is okay.” He swallowed. “For Colin. And for Merlin.” He snatched Season One from Colin’s hands and moved to the telly. “I’ll put on the first episode.”
He didn’t want to think about Colin feeling uncomfortable and on guard around him, he didn’t want to see Colin go all deerfooted around his apartment, and he certainly didn’t want Colin to resent him. Colin made sad eyes at him until John Hurt’s voiceover, at which point his entire body swiveled towards the television and Bradley started feeling a little less panicked.
hyponymnTitle: A Case of Mistaken Identity
Rating: PG-13
Pairing(s): Bradley/Colin, Bradley/Merlin
Summary:Colin Morgan is a really good actor. He doesn't just play a character, he becomes the character. He builds the world of the character, synthesizes the struggles of the character, and dreams about the character. And it just so happens that Colin’s character is exactly the type of cotton-headed ninnymuggins that would fall in love with a familiar, friendly face and a parcel of bad jokes. Bradley heroically understands; he totally recognizes his own awesomeness.
Warnings: frustrated boys (Not even UST. Just frustration.)
Word Count: 2,053
Running Word Count: 7,531
Spoilers: Seasons 1, 2, and 3 are fair game; also video diaries and interviews (if those count as spoilers?!)
If you're new to the story, here's the link to the first chapter: http://merlinrpf.livejournal.com/196423.html
“You could create a new romantic interest,” Bradley suggests. He stares into the dark and waits for Colin to answer. “Hey! Colin. You sleeping?”
“What do you think?”
“Right.” Bradley wiggles his head deeper into the pillow. “So I’m thinking a total bombshell. Super leggy. Dark hair, really curvy—“
“Do you know anything about Merlin?” Colin snorts. “First of all, his type comes with tragic backstories. So unless your bombshell is, I dunno, one legged and has a family history of early deaths, Merlin wouldn’t approach her.”
“That’s feasible.”
“Secondly—“ Colin’s voice takes on a long-suffering edge—“Merlin’s terribly earnest. He sets his heart and sees nothing else. Remember the part where I was avoiding you?”
“Should be an easy fix. Change that aspect.”
“I can’t just decide to change an aspect of Merlin’s character.”
“Sure you can.”
“Actually, no.” Colin sounds like he’s biting the words. “I can’t just slide from infinite earnestness to casual earnestness.”
“Sounds like a pretty precise scale of earnestness—“
“—and especially not when I keep seeing you. When Merlin keeps seeing you.”
“But Merlin’s not gay.” This is something that Bradley knows; he and Colin had had this discussion back in season one, and they had decided to flirt with the chemistry for the sake of fanservice, but not let it lead anywhere.
“You know how obsessed Merlin is with Arthur.”
“Everyone in Camelot is gay for Arthur,” Bradley agrees. “I see your point.”
“That’s not my point. And that’s also not a thing.”
“What’s not?”
“A woman couldn’t be gay for Arthur.”
“Au contraire!” Bradley chirps. “Arthur inspires such a level of bromance that all affections towards him must automatically be considered gay.” Colin doesn’t respond for a moment.
“Pretty sure that’s not a thing.”
“S’Totally a thing.”
“Anyway, Merlin’s not gay for Arthur. It’s Bradley.” Bradley can’t think of anything to say, and after an uncertain silence, Colin continues. “The one he thinks he can have. The one who kept him company and gave him comfort. The one who refused to leave him alone no matter how impossible Merlin made it for him.”
“That was basic friendship 101.”
“Not for Merlin.” Bradley can hear Colin moving about. “Until he came to Camelot, all Merlin had for a friend was Will. And Will was bitter. Merlin loved him, but Will was a toxic friend. They did some pranks as kids, especially once Will figured out about Merlin’s magic. Will used Merlin, and Merlin was okay with it because it made him feel stronger. Needed. Merlin’s not familiar with needing.”
“What was I supposed to do?”
“Merlin thought you were perfect. And he’s sorry that this is causing such a problem.”
Bradley charitably agrees about the part where he’s perfect and flips his pillow over. He’s on the verge of sleep when the next reasonable solution drifts into a solid form.
“You could get you a romantic interest!” he says. Colin doesn’t say anything. “Hey! Colin. You—“
“Yes, I’m awake, and no, it wouldn’t work.”
“Why not? I’m sure we could find you a one-legged bombshell—“
“I’m not exclusively into handicapped women.”
“I’m biting, Morgan. Why wouldn’t it work?”
“I don’t date while filming. It complicates things.”
“Moreso than this does?”
“I tried, Bradley. It’s just really hard because Merlin really likes you a lot and I tried, but he rejected—“
“You’re Merlin. You’re saying that you rejected—“
“Jesus, Bradley, would you let me finish!” Bradley’s no expert on mattress noises, but he’s fairly certain from the general thumping squeaks that Colin is sitting upright in bed.
“You keep acting like Merlin is some pleasant little demon who’s stuck in your body and possesses you on occasion—“
“Let me fucking talk!”
“Nice that you want to talk now.” There’s a strangled yell and a thump, and Bradley reaches for the light. Colin is half on the bed, half on the floor, and one hundred percent tangled in his sheets.
“The part of this that is total shit,” Colin says in a shaking voice, “is that Merlin loves arguing with you. He’s so happy because he has your attention and how we’re roughly equals.” He tears the sheets off the bed and sits, knees folded to his chest, against the bed. “Turn off the light, James. You’ve got an early rise tomorrow.”
“So do you.”
“Leave it.”
Bradley leaves the light on and lies back down. “What were you going to say?” He stares at the ceiling and waits for Colin to find his words. Colin can be ridiculously meticulous with words.
“I talk about Merlin like he’s a separate entity, but it’s not as simple as that. It’s little things, habitual things, that I have all the time. Impulses to help crew, affection for Gwen if Angel is speaking marbles, concern for Arthur, leaving my things a mess but wanting to tidy after others…It’s a lot of little things, and there’s no separation between my thinking thoughts as me and my thinking thoughts as Merlin. I have to search for that distinction. I’m trying to build up that distinction. Does that make sense?” The silence following the question is heavy, and when Bradley turns his head, he sees Colin staring at him.
“None of this makes sense,” Bradley says. “Can you go to bed now?”
“Bradley James, always with an ulterior motive.” Colin switches off the light and crawls back into his bed. Bradley makes a rude hand gesture in reply, and there’s no way Colin can see it, but he still hears Colin laugh. For that second, they feel normal, in synch, and okay.
Bradley fluffs his pillow restlessly and tries to refocus on the problem. There’s no getting rid of Colin or Merlin or Bradley or Arthur, and it’s getting to the point where Colin needs to do a convincing job of being Merlin and seeing Arthur, and in order for that to happen, Bradley has to be Arthur and not Bradley trying to read Colin being Merlin. It’s too much of a clusterfuck, and the problem is overwhelming enough that Bradley can feel sleep starting to creep over him.
Some unknowable amount of time later, Bradley strikes upon another possible solution. A way for Colin’s Merlin bits to see Bradley in his entirety, with all of his strengths and weaknesses and be done with it.
“I could be the romantic interest!” Bradley announces. The words come out louder than he intends and stretch into the dark: irretractable words content to echo and burrow into the shadowy corners of the room. “Hey. Colin? You asleep?”
There’s no response, and Bradley’s mind catches up with him brain enough that he’s glad that Colin’s asleep and he doesn’t have to deal with the repercussions of his proposition.
“Oh for Christ’s sake,” Colin groans.
*
Bradley was a fantastic host. It was just that, when they had stopped by the apartment earlier, there hadn’t been enough time to show Colin around. But now they were back from the couples’ counselor, he could do the job properly.
“Here’s the kitchen. Mi kitchen es su kitchen. Only not the yogurts. Yeah, actually, scratch the original bit I said. Check with me before you eat anything that’s in here now. We can go for groceries that you eat later.” Colin started at him, and Bradley began rambling. “Careful with the stove—you’re not to touch the burner unless you want to get burned. The burner’s the rings.”
“Do you have any food in your kitchen?” Colin asked hesitantly.
“Of course!” Bradley threw open the fridge. “Don’t climb inside the fridge—not that you can fit, necessarily—but Mum always said not to.” He looked over his shoulder to see Colin staring blankly at Bradley’s milk carton, eggs carton, package of bacon, and butter bin. “You hungry? I could fix toast.”
“Do you have any bread?” Colin asked hesitantly.
“So we’re on the same page.” Bradley summoned two slices of whole grain from his bread box and tossed them into the toaster. He leaned against the counter and pointed out the rest of his kitchen. “That’s the microwave, which is basically magic. But not actually. Don’t put spoons in it. Silverware is in the drawer behind you. Cups in this cabinet—“he slapped the door behind his right shoulder—“ and plates and bowls are in this one.” He gestured over his left shoulder. “We wash by hand here, so make sure you use dish soap and clean between the tines.” One of Bradley’s first roommates was always leaving grains of rice between the tines of Bradley’s forks, and he had developed a peeve with it. “Don’t run with knives. Don’t lick the icebox. Do you like preserves?”
Colin looked overwhelmed, so Bradley pulled out the only two types of preserves worth having—strawberry and rhubarb-and-ginger. He offered Colin a spoon to sample with, and then the toast popped and Colin jumped a good six inches.
“I feel like I have to childproof the apartment, but who knows how that works when your kid is adult-sized,” Bradley said as he slathered up Colin’s toast. “Just don’t go sticking your fingers into sockets and the like, yeah?” He turned and nearly ran into Colin, who had been standing much too close and peering suspiciously over his shoulder at the toaster. He shoved the toast at Colin, creating a little space in between them, and led the way into the living room.
“The couch is all yours. If you like we can rearrange the living room so that you can have some private space, but we’ll have to pull the couch back for when we’re watching the tv. And fortunately for youuu—“ Bradley swung open his DVD cabinet—“I’ve got the first three seasons of Merlin and all the reboot episodes of Dr. Who so you can see yourself in Merlin and as other characters. That’ll be something.” He didn’t mention that he obsessively watched any accessible film featuring his co-stars—which, considering how John Hurt had practically been in half of everything filmed since the 1960’s, was something that he might have been a bit proud of—and owned all major works. Colin stared at the Merlin DVD covers as if he didn’t understand them, which Bradley supposed could very well be the case.
“I’m planning on catching dinner with some of my mates tonight,” Bradley said. “We could watch an episode or two and you could finish off the season while I’m out. I think it’d be best if we found you something simple to do while you’re in.”
Colin’s eyes jumped up to Bradley’s face. “But how am I going to get back?”
“That’s not priority right now,” Bradley said. “We’re trying to make sure you’re as comfortable as possible until this all blows over.”
“But I don’t want to be comfortable!” Colin said. His voice was rising feverishly. “I don’t want to grow accustomed to this place. This world. It’s not—“
“Colin—“
“Merlin!”
Bradley tossed his head impatiently. “Merlin, then. You can have your panic attacks and your freak outs and whatever else you need. Just work with me.”
“Why should I work with you? Why should I trust you?” Colin said. “You even told me yourself that you’re not Arthur. But you still look like him. How’s that?”
“You don’t trust me?” Bradley said. It hadn’t occurred to him that Colin could doubt him. They didn’t even tease each other, really; they were comrades. Indivisible, costar, pranking comrades.
Or not, apparently.
“Why should I trust you?” Colin repeated quietly. His voice verged on begging.
Bradley shook his head and refocused on the conversation. “You don’t have to trust me. That doesn’t mean I can’t be trustworthy. I’m going to do my best to make sure everything is okay.” He swallowed. “For Colin. And for Merlin.” He snatched Season One from Colin’s hands and moved to the telly. “I’ll put on the first episode.”
He didn’t want to think about Colin feeling uncomfortable and on guard around him, he didn’t want to see Colin go all deerfooted around his apartment, and he certainly didn’t want Colin to resent him. Colin made sad eyes at him until John Hurt’s voiceover, at which point his entire body swiveled towards the television and Bradley started feeling a little less panicked.
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You're doing an excellent job balancing the humor and the pathos in this.
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(Anonymous) 2015-03-13 03:33 pm (UTC)(link)Also, it was back in Chapter one, but I have to compliment on your "only proper way to eat an apple" line which was so apt and delightful I think I clapped my hands. :D
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