Despite the fact that it’s only seven o’clock Bradley is knackered because having a call time of six in the morning means that Bradley has to be up at five in the morning, so when he remembers that he’s supposed to tweet about the Soccer Six thing him and the lads are doing in May he’s practically asleep and has no inclination to move from where his head is pillowed quite nicely on Colin’s chest.
“I can hear you thinking,” Colin groans sleepily and Bradley swats at his chest softly, “What’s up?”
Bradley sighs. “You know that football thing me, Eoin, Tom, Adetomiwa and Rupert are doing next month?” Colin makes an indistinct noise of assent, and the vibrations travel through his chest, making Bradley jump. He scowls when Colin laughs but carries on, “I was meant to tweet about it, let the fans know.”
“Mkaay. And the problem is?” Colin sounds so god damn adorable and confused and sleepy that Bradley can’t help but smile sappily, tangling their fingers together where their hands lay next to each other on the bed.
He strokes his thumb over Colin wrist as he speaks, marvelling at the delicacy of them, as he does every time he curls his fingers around the ridges of Colin’s wrist bones. “The problem, is that I’m currently very comfortable,” Bradley accentuates his point by rubbing his cheek on the soft Death Cab For Cutie covering Colin’s chest right now, and Colin huffs fondly.
“I’ll do it,” Colin says with a put upon sigh, but Bradley can hear his smile, “C’mon, where’s your phone?”
“Oh.. umm.. that’s the other problem,” he smiles sheepishly, even though Colin can’t see because Bradley’s face is currently level with his Solar Plexus, “My phone’s in my jeans. Which are-“
“Which are on the floor on your side of the bed,” Colin finishes for him. Bradley is confused when he feels a push at his head until Colin says “Up!” mock impatiently.
“What are you doing?” Bradley asks incredulously when Colin pushes him off of his chest only to lean over Bradley and hang off of the edge of the bed. (Not that Bradley’s complaining, because it offers his a marvellous view of Colin’s arse, but still, he would like to know what his mad-as-a-hatter boyfriend is doing.)
Colin’s voice is muffled when he replies “Looking for your phone, dickwad,”
Bradley can’t help but laugh at that. “Did you just call me dickwad? Really? And why are you looking for my phone?”
“Yes, I called you dickwad. Really. So I can tweet about the football thingy for you, keep up.”
Bradley feels a warm rush of affection when Colin lets out a triumphant cry and sits up suddenly, hair sticking up and cheeks flushed from the blood flow to his head when he was upside down. “Found it!” he crows, waving Bradley’s phone in the air, and Bradley sends him a look that says no shit Sherlock?
“Oh shush you,” Colin says, voice practically pulsating with fondness. “What do you want me to type?”
“Have you got twitter up yet?” Bradley laughs when Colin fumbles with Bradleys phone, and takes it off of him to unlock it and open Twitter. “God, you’re hopeless with technology. Are you sure you don’t want me to do it? I’m sitting up now, so it’s not really going to make a difference to my level of comfort,”
“No,” Colin says stubbornly and pouts, fucking pouts, handing his hand out to Bradley. “I said I would, so I will.” Bradley obligingly drops the phone into Colin’s hands and Colin rearranges it so he’s ready to type.
“Okay. Now what do you want me type?”
“Bradley and the Knights..” Colin types it in as quickly as he can – which is admittedly, still very slow – and has just finished when Bradley says “Oh wait! Make it an ‘and’ as in the little swirly-loopy things, not the word.”
Colin backspaces and retypes with the ‘swirly-loopy kind of and’ as Bradley so eloquently puts it, although he gets a cuff round the back of the head when he mention Bradley’s brilliant vocabulary. “Done! Now what?”
“Will be making an appearance,” Colin nods when he’s finished, and Bradley carries on, “Okay, so now you need to do a mention.” At Colin’s confused look, Bradley hastily explains, “You do the ‘at’ sign. Got that? Right, now just type in ‘soccersix’ – no spaces - and it should come up in a little drop down box. When that happens, click on it.”
Colin secretly thinks that he’s glad he doesn’t have a twitter account, because this is confusing. He doesn’t voice this to Bradley, however; Bradley would rip the piss out of him, because despite the fact that Bradley is actually a kind, caring boyfriend the majority of the time, Colin’s inability to understand technology is one thing he laughs at without fail. “Got it. Done yet?”
Bradley chuckles inwardly at the look on Colin’s face when he shakes his head. “Just two more lines, I promise!” Colin smiles grudgingly, and Bradley smiles back, heart melting a little at the fact that Colin is doing this for him, despite the fact that he’s perfectly capable of doing it himself. “Sunday 20th May at Upton Park. Now, for the last line you need a hashtag,”
Thoroughly out of his depth, Colin asks “What the fuck is a hashtag?” a little bewilderedly, and Bradley can’t resist leaning forward and kissing the corner of Colin’s mouth, causing said lips to quirk up in a tiny grin that makes Bradley’s heart clench at the fact that this wonderful man is his.
“It looks sort of like a pissed noughts and crosses board,” he explains, and can tell when Colin finds it because he laughs, “Then just write Team Merlin, capital T and capital M. Post it, and you’re done,”
“Thank God for that,” Colin mutters, “Honestly Bradley, I don’t know how you deal with all of this stuff.”
Bradley runs his fingers through Colin’s hair and chuckles, “Trust me, I don’t. I hardly ever tweet, although that’s because I’m lazy, whereas you don’t have a twitter because the internet confuses you.”
“The internet does not confuse me!” Colin squawks indignantly, and Bradley just nods before pulling Colin to sit in his lap by his belt loops, and kissing him until he’s incoherent.
Ten minutes later Bradley pulls back, groaning inwardly at how red Colin’s lips are and how messy his hair is, and how flushed he is. “Shit.”
“What?” Colin pants, eyes still slightly glazed over.
“There’s something else I need to tweet,” Bradley smiles sheepishly up at Colin through his eyelashes, a trick he’s used ever since Colin told him he can’t say no to Bradley when he does it.
His grin widens when Colin just rolls his eyes. “Where’s your phone?”
The second time takes considerably less time than the first, and as Colin leans over Bradley to put his phone on the bedside table, Bradley smiles at Colin’s squirming as he runs his fingers along Colin’s (extremely sensitive) sides.
The second he hears his phone hit the polished wood he pulls Colin back until they’re face-to-face and leans up to kiss him. “I love you,” He says, meaning it with every fibre of his being, because how could he not love Colin, who still kissed him after he had eaten meat, and put up with Bradley taking up seven-eighths of the bed every night and tweeted Bradley’s fans just because Bradley was too comfortable to move.
From this close Bradley can see the blush travel up Colin’s neck and along his collar bones and cheekbones, Colin’s skin turning light pink. Bradley can also see the adoration in Colin’s eyes as Colin smiles shyly and says “I love you too,” before suddenly putting all of his weight on Bradley, causing him to gasp for air and then laugh, wrapping his arms around Colin’s shoulders and pressing his face against the crook of Colin’s neck, his smile so wide he thinks it’s going to split his face in two.
Colin’s sigh of contentment only makes Bradley’s smile wider.