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1
She's a mess. The rain storm had hit them unprepared, and really, what else were a bunch kids in a giant backyard going to do but start a mud fight.
Penelope isn't sure exactly who started it (although her bets are on Benedict) but she does know her mother is going to kill her. She is covered head to toe in mud, she's ripped a new hole into her shorts, and she's pretty sure she lost one of her shoes in the forest behind the Bridgerton house in a black hole of mud that will never be found.
But she has never been happier than in this moment.
When Eloise asked her to come over, Penelope had thought it would just be the two of them, sunbathing and reading or chatting about their latest books, maybe lamenting what their schedules would be like next year. She had not expected the full Bridgerton clan, several friends and significant others and a whole backyard party. It was so different from any party Penelope's family had, that she was almost shell shocked at first. Until Eloise dragged her to the corner and set them up a beach towel just far enough away so that Pen could hear herself think again.
And then it started to rain. The adults ran inside, Violet rushing to grab the food, but before Penelope could even think of what to do, Eloise grabbed her hand and pulled her under a table just before the first mud ball hit.
Chaos erupted. Before she knew it, Penelope was covered in mud and absolutely mad with happiness.
The rain finally stops, and everyone along with it. Damage is assessed. Daphne plops one last pile of mud on Benedict's head, and the giggles start. Everyone is laughing, Anthony is gently rubbing mud off of Kate's face, and Penelope Featherington finds herself a mess and suddenly staring at Colin Bridgerton's chest.
She is 16, and she is pretty sure she is in love.
"Alright there, Pen?" Colin asks, using his recently removed shirt to wipe his face of mud.
"Yeah, grand." She manages, happy for the mud covering her cheeks, because she knows her face is bright red, a blush her mother says terribly clashes with her hair, but she can't be bothered to think about her mother right now. Colin Bridgerton is shirtless and he is smiling at her.
"Here," he says, handing her his shirt. "You got some mud, well, everywhere."
Her mind blanks. She forgets how to use her arms.
"Oh," she says, holding out her hands like she has never been given anything in her life. He must think her crazy. She lifts the shirt to her face to wipe off the mud, and it takes every bit of her power to not inhale as deep as possible to find out what he smells like.
She knows she's weird, and that most people think her weird, but she has some self respect.
"Thanks," she says, handing it back after one swipe, not really knowing how a situation like this works. She desperately wants Eloise to find her and rescue her from this moment. She also never wants this moment to end.
Colin laughs softly, taking a step closer to her. "You've missed a bit." He's close enough now that she can feel the heat of his skin even though she is still freezing from the rain, and before Penelope can process what is happening, Colin gently tips her face up to him and cleans her face.
It is the most romantic thing that has ever happened to her, and she simply forgets how to breath.
"I must look a mess," she manages to say, her voice somehow coming out normal.
He nods, his mouth quirking up just so on the right side. "But we all are."
All she knows are his hands on her face and the smell of the rain.
"Pen!" Eloise crashes into Penelope's side, and Colin is suddenly three steps away. Penelope doesn't know whether to thank Eloise or punch her in the arm for ruining... whatever just happened. "You must come, I think Anthony is going to propose to Kate, we must see this." Eloise's eyes fall on Colin. "You must come too, Col. Daph and Gregory are already there!"
Eloise grabs both Penelope and Colin's hand, and the day whirlwinds in a completely different direction, so it isn't until later than night when Penelope is home, freshly lectured and showered, that she let's herself think about the feeling of Colin's hand on her cheek.
She's pretty sure that feeling is going to haunt her for the rest of her life.
2
Uni parties are ridiculous, Penelope decides. The music is too loud for any sort of conversation, people are all but shagging on couches and in corners, and beer sucks. She's decided she hates beer, but no one brings anything good to parties, so there is no way Penelope is bringing her good liquor.
This party is especially ridiculous because Eloise disappeared within 5 minutes to go find the guy she swears she doesn't have a crush in her English class, so Penelope is alone. And overstimulated. And Cressida Cowper is laughing in her direction, which certainly means she is saying something cruel, and Penelope really has had enough.
She pulls out her phone to text Eloise she is heading back to their dorm, and share her location with her sisters (they might not exactly like each other, but their chats are full of locations and home safes, and Phillipa's new boyfriend is the sweetest and sometimes just texts her to check in, so it’s a good practice).
She's not looking where she is going, just heading in any direction that will get her out but she forgets to account for Cressida. And the fact that the gods and powers that be and karma apparently all hate her.
There's a splash, an eruption of laughter, and Penelope Featherington is suddenly soaking wet.
"Oops," Cressida's voice stands out against the laughter. "Penelope I did not see you there."
Penelope looks down at her shirt, the only one she actually likes and feels confident in for parties, completely ruined with some random red liquid seeping into her skin.
The music is somehow louder, but now she's cold and wet and smells like some artificial sour candy, and Penelope has been hanging on by just a thread for weeks now what with finals coming up and the first anniversary of her father's death just around the corner and the fact that she is almost 20 and still hasn't kissed a boy, and something in her cracks.
She will not cry, not in public, not at a party, and definitely not in front of Cressida Fucking Cowper.
"Alright there, Pen?"
Penelope Featherington is no longer 16, but she is definitely still in love.
Colin's here. He's tanned from the suns of a multitude of beaches across Europe, his hair is longer, and Penelope is pretty sure she see a tattoo peeking out from his sleeve.
She's so stunned that he is here, right now, witnessing one of the most embarrassing moments of her life, she forgets she's about to cry.
"Been better."
Colin chuckles lowly as he steps closer to her. "I'd say." He hands her a napkin, before tossing his arm around her. "Let's go get you cleaned up."
Her brain must have disappeared with her tears, because she has no idea what is going on. She feels the daggers Cressida and her friends are glaring at her, but Colin expertly navigates her through the crowd until they find a spot in an open corner. The music is softer here, and Penelope can hear her own thoughts, and she is still covered in a sticky, red mess, but she feels better.
Colin blocks the rest of the world out of their space, and she's once again so grateful that Colin is here, probably because some of his friends are still in the frat that is hosting the party. But he is here and not in some jungle in Portugal or beach in Italy that she feels like she can breathe again.
"Thanks for getting me out of there."
Colin's eyes scan her face, and Penelope feels oddly cared for. She knows her silly little crush is unrequited, and really, all she will ever be to Colin is Eloise's friend, but it feels really nice that someone is looking out for her.
"That was a rather shitty thing for her to do you," Colin says once he appears content with his scan of her face.
Penelope shrugs, "No use crying over spilled milk, right."
Colin catches her eyes again, a slight furrow between his brows. "Bit more than spilled milk, this."
An ache fills her chest. He's too sweet for his own good, Penelope thinks. She closes her eyes and sighs, ready to get out of this stupid house and away from the stupid party.
"Ah, you've..."
Penelope cracks open her eyes, and Colin is much closer than before. Possible closer than she has ever been to him.
"Hmm?"
"Um," Colin sighs himself, and then his thumb is brushing at her cheek, like he is brushing away a tear.
Penelope is positive she shivers.
"Some of that drink was on your face." Colin is still so close that Penelope cannot breath without smelling him. It's intoxicating.
It's terrifying.
A kiss would be easier than blinking an eye.
"I must look a mess," Penelope says, breaking the spell of whatever just happened.
Colin straightens, instantly moving a step away and out of reach. "Not the biggest mess here tonight."
The warmth in her chest spreads, and she can't stop the smile lighting up her face.
Colin holds out a hand the help her up.
"C’mon, let me walk you home."
Penelope places her hand in his, and she knows he didn't even kiss her, and he's ruined her for all of other men.
3
Penelope really should have seen this coming at least a mile away, but part of her had hoped. Alfred Debling was different. He was weird. Weird in a similar way to her, weird in the way that made her feel like she could eventually, actually fall for him.
But he apparently had different plans.
Penelope Featherington decided years ago that she was going to stop crying about men who are not worth it, but she's tired. This one was supposed to be different.
But now, here she is, standing outside the Bridgerton's backyard gate, late for the first summer soiree of the season, Benedict and Sophie's engagement party. Luckily, Penelope remembered to stop at the bakery for a very sad looking box of cookies. She did not ever bother with makeup since she could not be trusted to start crying at any moment.
Debling was supposed to be her saving grace. The one who could finally knock Colin Bridgerton and his stupid, beautiful eyes out of her system.
But he chose penguins and Antarctica over her. So here she is. Standing outside her best friend's house, ready to celebrate and be surrounded by some of the happiest and most in-love people she ever met.
Penelope takes a deep breath, and one large step forward, and suddenly, she is on the ground, her favorite heels failing her exactly when she needs them most. The left heel is completely snapped off, her dress is most definitely stained, and her sad, pathetic cookies are all over the grass.
Today is not her day. If she's being honest, it has not been her day for months now.
At this point, all she wants to do is curl into fetal position and melt into the earth, but someone, most likely a Bridgerton will find her, and she doesn't know if she can face their concerned faces or genuine care for her right now. Especially not on Ben and Sophie's night, so Penelope Featherington finds the last fuck she has to give, pushes herself off the ground, planning to call Eloise in the car to let her know she has a migraine and will not be able to make it tonight. El of all people will understand. And she won't ask Pen too many questions, only make her promise to come to the next one.
Which is a grand plan, until Penelope runs directly into someone and within an instant is back on the ground.
If her dress wasn't ruined before, it most definitely is now.
"Fuck, I'm so sorry, are you - Pen?"
If she isn't convinced she is cursed yet, Colin Bridgerton being late to the party as well, just in time to see her two seconds from falling apart is a sure sign of it.
"Colin." She sighs, resigned to her fate of Colin always seeing her at some of her lowest points.She let's him help her up, and pull her into a hug. Which would be nice under any other circumstances, but tonight, her threads are so loose she just starts sobbing.
"Are you hurt?” He asks, concern lacing in his voice.
Penelope shakes her head against his chest. "No, it's just been such a shit day. I was dumped at breakfast, and broke my shoe and stained my favorite dress, and oh the cookies-"
She's crying even harder now, and Colin just holds her closer, letting her cry until the tears stop coming. She pulls away quickly once she realizes, afraid she's going to g e t snot and tears on his very soft shirt, but Colin just gently wraps his hands around the softness of her upper arms and bends slightly closer to her level.
Heat bursts from the place his hands are holding her and every feeling she has been trying suppress about Colin Bridgerton comes flying right back to the surface.
"Did this guy hurt you? I can go talk to him, and Ant too. Ben would come too, if we ask." Colin brushes a piece of her hair behind her ear, fingers softer than butterfly wings against her cheek. "We consider you like a sister, and if this guy hurt you, I swear to g-"
She flinches.
Sister .
He thinks of her as a sister. Which, of course he does. She should see him as a brother figure, like she sees Anthony and Benedict, and even Greg, but he’s different. She almost hates herself for it.
There is a reason she has been trying so hard to get over him.
"No, Colin, really it's fine. It was for the best. It's just been a day." Penelope takes enough steps backward that she is no longer close enough for him to touch. Her hand swipes at her cheeks, the tears still sticky and wet. "Oh dear, I must look a mess."
She glances around the chaos of the last 5 minutes, her heel snapped in pieces, cookie crumbles sprinkling the ground, grass stains on her lilac dress.
A mess indeed.
"A mess, god no, Pen you look-"
"Pen! I thought I saw your car on the security cam." Eloise rushes into the lawn effectively cutting Colin off again. "What happened!" Her eyes trace down Penelope's sad state, and then flip to Colin, her face instantly turning into a glare.
"What did you do?"
Penelope grabs Eloise's hand, tugging her away from Colin before Eloise can start to interrogate him.
"It wasn't Colin. Alfred broke up with me and my shoe broke, and Colin was kind enough to let me use his shirt as a crying rag."
Penelope takes one last look over she shoulder as Eloise leads her inside, chittering about how much of prick Debling was anyway, and that she was just the same shoe size as Franny, and her mother had perfected the grass stain remover over the past several decades.
She's not sure what she expects to see, but Colin staring after them, concern written all over his face is definitely not it.
4
It’s quiet for once, inside Aubrey Hall, a feat Penelope is still not entirely sure how they pulled off. Maybe it is because it’s so cozy, Christmas just around the corner, or maybe the soft snores of several little children finally falling asleep, or maybe it is because Violet has the magic glare of a very tired mother and grandmother.
But whatever it is, Penelope is soaking up the quiet as she feeds baby William, the smallest and newest of the Bridgerton clan, letting Ben and Sophie take a much needed break. Penelope hums a lullaby she just barely remembers from childhood and watches as Will tries his hardest to keep his eyes open and staring at her as he finishes the bottle.
There is something to precious about the moment, about the feeling of being loved and trusted enough by Benedict and Sophie and the rest of the Bridgerton’s that no one objected when she offered to help, about knowing that the other kids love her enough to call her Auntie Pen, about the way little Will happily settles into her arms that makes Penelope go all soft inside.
Her whole life she feels like she has been searching for that feeling of belonging, of wanting her family to be more loving and accepting, but somehow, she ended up here, enveloped in the warmth that is the Bridgerton’s. She’s known she’s been loved for years now, but this moment right here makes all of her feelings rise to the surface, and before she knows it, a small tear plops down onto poor Will’s face. And he giggles. A perfect, tiny, baby giggle, complete with milk dribbling down his chin, and Penelope can’t help but giggle as well, shifting him slightly so she can clean up the mess before it hits his clean pajamas.
“There you are.”
Penelope startles, just enough to send William into another round of giggles. She knew he was here, has already seen him and said hello and given him a hug, but that had been in front of others, so many others that she was able to ignore the more incessant feelings that usually bloomed within her when Colin Bridgerton was around.
But here, it’s just them. And a very sleepy, giggly baby.
Penelope quickly brushes the stupid, happy tears off of her face and arranges her expression into something she hopes less lovesick and stupid and more of a normal 26 year old woman who is over teenage crushes. (She is. She has to be. It’s getting a bit ridiculous at this point.)
“Here I am.”
Colin rests in the door jam, the cozy, quiet of the night making him look utterly cuddleable. Which is very unfair to her heart.
“Been looking for you,” Colin says, soft, beautiful smile on his face as he watches her.
“You have?” Penelope hopes she sounds normal, casual. “What for?”
Colin steps into the room finally, padding over to the ottoman next to the rocking chair where Penelope currently sits. He’s close enough that his knee knocks gently against hers.
She pretends her whole body doesn’t erupt in warmth.
“Hadn’t seen you in a bit. Wanted to make sure the monster’s hadn’t wrestled you into never ending story hour.”
“Ah, nope.” Pen shakes her head, a fuzzy feeling spreading across her chest. “Greg’s on story time duty tonight.”
Will thrusts his tiny hand into the air, and Colin’s face just melts into the sweetest smile. He holds out a finger, and the baby happily grabs hold, pulling Colin closer.
A peacefulness falls over Penelope, an air of contentment that has her letting out a happy sigh. Colin’s head snaps up, his eyes finding hers
“What are you thinking about?” He asks, voice quiet and gentle to her ears.
“I’m happy.” Penelope shies her eyes away from his, afraid he will see her feelings spelled out in her irises if he looks to long. Instead she focuses on the baby. “I’ve been happy for a long time I realize, but I’ve not just let myself feel it, ya know.”
Will’s hand pulls Colin closer again, close enough that he has to rest his hand on Penelope’s knee to accommodate the little one. Colin nods, his hair brushing against her cheek as he does.
“That’s good. You should let yourself be happy. You deserve it.”
Penelope nods this time, hoping she can hide the blush running amongst her cheeks, trying to not think too much about all of the places she can feel him. “What are you thinking about?”
Colin clears his throat, and her eyes find their way back to his. So blue, so close. Something in her becomes untethered, and she leans closer to him, mesmerized by his eyes.
“Is it weird it I say I’m thinking about how you’re going to be a great mother one day, if you want to be one.”
“Oh,” Penelope feels her cheeks turn an even deeper red. Colin watches her face, like he has so many times before, but she is not sure what he looking for. “No, not weird at all. Very nice, actually.”
Closer. Somehow he is even closer, and she can smell the cinnamon on his breath.
Will gurgles, spitting the bottle out of his mouth and dropping Colin’s finger, immediately breaking the moment.
Which is good, Penelope thinks. She has no idea what the moment even was, but she is pretty sure Colin Bridgerton was about to kiss her.
She’s not entirely sure how to deal with that right now, so she focuses on Will.
Will with milk running down his chin. Will whose face is rapidly changing from happy and full to completely distraught.
Penelope shifts him again, positioning the burp cloth over her shoulder.
“Shh now, let’s just get th-”
Will abruptly stops crying, and instead spits up all over Penelope.
It’s not something she’s unaccustomed too. 8 Bridgerton babies and 2 Featherington babies has made Penelope quite familiar with baby burps and spit ups, but it is never a fun thing to react too.
Will is out of her arms in an instant. Colin swoops in and redirects the worst of the mess onto the floor, like some sort of superhero meant to save people from upset baby tummies.
Within seconds, Colin has Will positioned on his shoulder, lightly bouncing and patting his back, whispering words of encouragement to him, and Penelope barely has a moment to recover. She quickly wipes off what she can before walking over to the drawers full of extra baby pajamas.
Neither of them say anything, but within ten minutes Will is burped, changed, and asleep, and even though she is suddenly exhausted and probably covered in baby throw up, Penelope still feels that wonderful peacefulness.
Colin closes the door and turns to her, face soft and eyes so blue she wants to drown in them.
“You’d be a great dad, if that’s what you want one day,” she finds herself saying, repeating his words back to him. Part of her aches, because the mutinous part of her brain thinks about how nice it would be if he was the dad to her babies. How the only future she can really imagine, no matter how hard she tries not to, is one where he’s there, by her side, making even the hardest of times feel doable.
Something she can’t place flashes in his eyes, and then the space between them is basically non existent, his hand falling to her hair.
“Pen, I…” his gaze drops to her lips, and somehow, the moment that Will broke is back, easily sliding back into place without her even noticing it. “I’m only good at it when I’m with you.”
Penelope is pretty sure her heart stops beating.
“Don’t say that, you are great with them.” She manages to choke out, her voice somehow even.
Colin shakes his head. “You make me want to be bett-” He freezes, his hand caught in her hair.
This is it, Penelope thinks. He realizes he’s fucked up and is too close to her, that he doesn’t want her, he never has wanted her.
“I think you’ve got some dried milk in your hair.”
Her hand reaches for the spot where his is, and she tries to step away, but he won’t let her. Instead his free hand grabs hers and he leads her to the bathroom, running the sink until its warm before he grabs a washcloth and brings it to her hair.
“You don’t have-”
“Shh,” he says, swatting her hand away as she tries to grab the washcloth. “I’ve got you.”
If he keeps saying things like this, she’s going to die from a heart attack.
"I must look a mess.” She says, her voice barely above a whisper.
“Yes,” Colin nods solemnly, before bursting into a smile. “But I am trying to fix that.”
They’ve been here before. Colin, gentle hands and soft fingertips guiding her chin, wiping her face clean of something or another. It’s almost ridiculous, Penelope thinks, how she can’t stop herself from becoming a mess in front of him.
But he’s always there, smiling, caring, cleaning her up so she can put her best face forward.
She is 26 years old and she is still stupidly in love with Colin Bridgerton. But she’s okay with that.
Because in his own way, even if it not the same kind of love, he shows he loves her too.
5
After that night, things change.
Colin still is traveling around the world, barely home for more than two weeks at a time, but they don’t stop talking. He send her pictures of beautiful places, calls her during long layovers, mails her post cards and letters, words cramped and tight as if he has too much to say but not enough room to say it.
And it’s nice. It is so so nice, and Penelope can’t help but walk around with an extra pep in her step, the feeling of happiness following her around now.
A year passes, and then two, and then somehow, Colin Brigderton is home, for good this time, according to Eloise, but Penelope will not get her hopes up. He’s rented a flat, a cozy little place that lends him close enough to just about everyone within a decent tube ride or long walk. He keeps texting her, lamenting about how they need to get together but Penelope has never been so busy in her whole life, what with her work at the newspaper and her first book being accepted by a publisher after months of her agent shopping it around, and going through edits, and both her sisters having another baby, and, and, and…
Eloise literally has to drag her to Violet’s house for Miles’ 7th birthday, claiming the kids have been asking about her for weeks. And really, Penelope should be editing, or writing, but Amelia has used Daphne’s phone to send her a video saying she really missed her and then the rest of her siblings agreed, and maybe, just maybe she could use a break.
And it’s good. Good for her to see other people besides Eloise and her coworkers, good for her to be hugged and fussed over, good for her to be reminded that she has so so many wonderful people who love her.
It’s good because Colin is not there. Running late, Benedict say’s with a good humored eye roll. “Apparently the tube he usually takes in under construction, so he’s taking the long way.”
Penelope is thankful. Because even though things have changed between them, even though she would call him her friend now, a part of her knows seeing him in person will be different. She’s fallen asleep to his voice on the phone. She’s listened to him ramble about random things on less than two hours of sleep, heard him laugh at one of her jokes from thousands of miles away. Part of her doesn’t know how her poor heart will handle seeing him in person again.
She wanders away from the core of the party once pizza has been finished, needing a moment to herself. She’s been so deep into being alone lately that her social battery is already depleted.
Penelope is used to the Bridgerton’s and the general hubbub of being surrounded by them, but sometimes, she needs a moment to herself. After knowing her for so many years, they understand, which in itself is amazing to her. Frannie had shown her her favorite resting spot a few years ago, the sunroom on the left side of the house, where, if the timing was just right, tiny rainbows would erupt on the walls.
Penelope is close enough to the noise of the party so she can be aware when it is time for cake, but far enough away that she can recharge just a bit before falling back into the swell of the Bridgertons. So she sits herself on the ground, kicks off her shoes, and watches the rainbows flutter on the wall.
Just as she is about to rile herself up to go back, little footsteps echo near the door, and little Will wanders in, two years old and twaddling about now. Not to be left out, Charlotte follows suit, her steps somehow even more unsteady than his, but right behind her is Alexander, four years old and feeling like a great big brother and cousin. Will spots her, and his face transforms into a magical, beautiful toddler smile, and before Penelope can really comprehend what is happening, Will settles himself into her lap, Charlotte is using her knee to help herself to the ground and Alex is plopping himself right in front of her.
A little army of beautiful babies, apple sauces in hands and smeared on cheeks.
“P!” Will says wiggling himself much like he used to when he was just a baby to get himself comfortable.
“P! P! P!” Charlotte chants, whacking her hand against Penelope’s knee again.
“It’s Pen, guys. Auntie Pen.” Alex gives her a gap toothed smile, and Penelope melts.
Charlotte switches the hands holding her applesauce, and then promptly forgets, and continues to hit Pen’s knee, now causing applesauce to seep into her tights. Which is not a particularly nice feeling.
“Charlotte, how about we-” Pen leans over to try and catch the little girl’s hand, but when Will recognizes she is within reach, he happily and sloppily kisses her cheek.
Therefore covering her in both apple sauce and toddler spit. Really, Penelope does not know how all of the Bridgerton’s end up looking so put together and polished, since every time she is within a few feet of children, she ends up covered in something.
“All right there, Pen?”
Four heads swivel to the doorway, and then chaos ensues.
Penelope might momentarily forget how to breath.
“C!C!” Charlotte pushes herself back onto uneven feet, spreading more apple sauce on Penelope’s knees, but she barely notices.
Colin is here. Colin is here.
She’s known he has been back, had chatted with him while he unpacked some boxes at his apartment, tried her best to prepare herself for seeing him, in person. But none of her preparations seem to have worked.
Colin is here, and he is beautiful, his hair long enough to be curling around his ears, his eyes bright and mischievous, stupid strong arms scooping Charlotte one handed, the other hand holding a plate of what looks like Eloise’s brownies.
Charlotte giggles as Colin kisses her cheek as Alex wraps himself around Colin’s legs, and Penelope laughs.
Her heart is beating right out of her chest, she is covered in apple sauce, and she is in love with Colin Bridgerton.
But that is nothing new.
“My hero,” she jests, as Colin waddles forward, playfully attempting to shake Alex off his legs.
“Careful, or you’ll give me a complex,” Colin says, somehow expertly folding himself to the ground without dropping a baby or the plate.
“Might be too late for that.”
Colin grins, a triumphant look in his eyes at maneuvering himself so well, and Penelope’s heart skips another beat.
“I brought you treats,” he says, something like pride shines in his eyes.
Alex takes one look at the brownies and then runs out of the room hollering about not being told it was time for cake, and Colin at least has the decency too look a bit sheepish.
“You’ve done it now.” Penelope says, but she still reaches for the plate, because there is no way she is going to turn down a brownie, especially one of Eloise’s which she was forced to watch bake and cool without even getting a taste.
Just as she reaches for the brownie, Will does too, smashing his hands into the plate in delight.
Colin tries his best to move the plate, but Charlotte also decides it looks like a lovely smashing tool, and within seconds, babies and all are covered in chocolate frosting.
And all Penelope can do it laugh. She has chocolate all over her cheeks and her shirt, and yet, Colin is looking at her like he might think she is beautiful, and when Kate slides into the room with wet wipes and tsking sounds for her brother-in-law, Penelope can only laugh harder.
Parents are called, babies are swept away and washed down, and then it’s just Pen and Colin, sitting and laughing and covered in chocolate and apple sauce and happiness.
Colin leans forward and gently brushes her cheek with a wet wipe provided by Kate.
“Why do I feel like we keep ending up here,” he asks, shifting to his knees, and settling even closer to her.
“Pretty sure I was cursed to forever make a fool of myself in front of you,” Pen says, doing her best to not think too hard about how close he is, or how soft his hands are, or how much she likes his voice, especially when it fills the darkness of her room.
Something flashes in his eyes, too quick for her to read. He opens his mouth, as if to say something, but Violet’s voice rings through the house. “Cake in 10 minutes!”
Colin is standing in an instant, leaving Penelope to feel as if she is dangling in space, tumbling out of control.
And then he holds out his hand. “C’mon, let’s get ourselves presentable, eh?”
She could say no. Could not take his hand, could tell him she has an extra pair of clothes in the car, or in Eloise’s room, or that she’s fine and has to go help with the cake.
But she’s never been able to say no to him.
So she takes his hand.
He leads her to his room, a place that has felt so secret and sacred to Penelope for as long as she can remember, despite being right next to Eloise’s.
“I’ve not yet finished packing everything up to take to my new place yet,” Colin says, once he settles her down on the edge of his bed, surrounding her in yellow sheets. He disappears into the closet, and it’s then that Pen realizes he is going to offer her something to wear, because her shirt is beyond salvageable. And she cannot do that. She’s come to love herself and her body and her weirdness, but the thought of having to tell Colin that she will not fit in his clothes is not an embarrassment she can take today. Or ever really.
“I got this is Spain last year,” Colin says, oblivious to her inner turmoil. “The coziest sweatshirt I have.” He stands in front of her, pleased expression on his face. “Only the best for you, Pen.”
“Colin, I…”
Her eyes take in the sweatshirt, clearly too big for him, and something inside her aches.
“You’ll probably be swimming in it, being so short and all.” Colin’s eyes scan her up and down, and she knows, she knows it is too see if she needs anything else, but she still heats up under his gaze. “I unfortunately cannot help with your tights.”
At the mention of said tights, Penelope can suddenly feel the oozing applesauce on her legs again, so she grabs the sweatshirt and sprints to the bathroom across the hall, mumbling thanks as she slams the door.
She scrubs her cheeks and pulls off her tights, and shirt, and does everything in her power to not overthink things.
She is a 28 year old woman, not a teenager, and it’s just a sweatshirt, a sweatshirt that Colin probably didn’t bring with him because he forgot about it, so it means nothing.
Nothing!
She slips it over her head, and instantly, she is swarmed by the scent of what she has come to know as Colin.
Penelope accepts that today is probably going to be the day she dies, either of embarrassment or over-stimulation brought on by Colin Bridgerton and his stupid, beautiful eyes and intoxicating scent.
The sweatshirt comes down almost all the way to her skirt, so she does what she can to make herself presentable and exits the bathroom, almost stumbling right into Colin, his hand poised to knock.
He freezes, his eyes trailing down her body, again, and this time, Penelope cannot help but feel like he is doing more than looking for remaining patches of apple sauce.
He stares long enough for Penelope to move past the ridiculous idea that he is looking at her like he wants her and into the idea that she must look terrible. She shifts, wondering if she should maybe just put back on her ruined shirt, or maybe just leave and never return ever again.
“Do I look a mess?” She asks, because she needs to do something.
Colin shakes himself, as if he’s been stuck in a trance. “A mess? God no.” He shakes himself again, this time his face falling into a brilliant smile. “You look beautiful.”
He holds out his hand to her, and every cell in her body is exploding, so she doesn’t even have a chance to fight with herself in her head about it.
She takes his hand.
And for a moment, Penelope Featherington feels invincible.
+1
She’s a mess.
Penelope just finished sending her final edits to her editor, years of work and cramped fingers and deleted words and imaginary worlds tidied and edited into a zip file and sent through an email.
Finished. She’s finished her book, and she has an estimated publication date, and she’s so overwhelmed with conflicting thoughts of happiness and self-doubt and relief and terror of others reading about her characters that she just bursts into tears.
It is not her finest moment, but she really doesn’t care, because she finished her book. Once she finally cries herself out, she pulls out her phone and instantly pulls up the text thread she has with Colin.
She probably should tell someone else first, like Eloise or her sisters, but she’s reached a point where she doesn’t care anymore. Colin is the first person she wants to tell everything. Has been for years now, especially since he’s moved back to England, and become more than Eloise’s older brother and her school girl crush.
Somewhere along the way, Colin became her best friend.
Just as she starts to type out the message, the doorbell rings, and Penelope is almost shocked by the sound of the something other than the typing of her keyboard and the playlist she made for this round of edits.
Eloise is off on a vacation with Phil, and her sisters never show up without asking, so she’s almost keen to leave it, but something tugs her out of the dark cocoon on her room and to her front door.
As if she conjured him out of her thoughts, Colin is here. He’s once again cut his hair short, sides buzzed down to peach fuzz, and he’s a bit paler now, the tan he’s maintained for over a decade washed away by the grey skies of London, but he’s here, and he’s smiling at her, and he’s beautiful.
“Hi,” he says, and Penelope almost wants to pinch herself to make sure he’s real.
“Hi,” She says back, stepping aside so he can come in. “I was literally just about to text you.”
He’s already made his way to the kitchen and is pulling out plates and glasses, her fancy stuff, she notices, and it feels so comfortable, so right, that Penelope wonders if she is actually still in her room, mind stuck in fantasy land, dreaming up a version of life where Colin is hers.
“You told me last week that today was your deadline.” The plates are suddenly piled with food from her favorite taco spot and Colin is pouring tequila into a shaker. “I’ve never known you to miss a deadline.” Colin flashes her a cheeky grin and a wink right before he starts shaking the shaker, and Penelope is surprised she doesn’t melt right into the floor.
“Did you get me tacos?” She asks, because her brain is still mush from editing and the fact that timed himself so perfectly.
“And the highest shelf tequila so I can make you margaritas.”
She wanders her way over to her tiny kitchen island, Colin pouring her drink just as she settles into the stool.
“You’re timing is almost scary.” Pen says, gratefully accepting the drink and plate of tacos he passes her, mouth almost drooling. It’s then she realizes she hasn’t eaten anything since the slice of toast she had with her coffee almost 10 hours ago now.
Colin taps his head, “I have that spidey-pen sense.”
Penelope snorts unable to stop herself, and pulls the sleeves of her sweatshirt down so she can cover her face in embarrassment. Which is exactly when she realizes what sweatshirt she is wearing. His sweatshirt. The one he gave her months ago at this point, that she swore she was going to wash and then give right back, the one she accidentally been wearing nonstop for days.
He notices. She can tell he noticed way before she did by the stupid little smirk that he’s trying so hard to hide as he pours his own margarita. A smirk that makes her think, if it was anyone else besides her, that he’s proud. That he likes it.
“I swear I meant to give it back,” she rushes out, reaching down to pull it off. “But then I started editing in it, and I had such a good editing session that I got superstitious and-”
“Pen, it’s fine.” Colin says, laughing as he reaches across her island and places a hand on hers, stopping her from taking off the sweatshirt. That stupid smirk pops up again. “You look good in it.”
She freezes. Her entire body flushes, and Penelope is once again convinced she is still sitting at her desk, still stuck in the imaginary world she built herself where girls like her get the guy. A world where Colin Bridgerton looks at her and wants her back.
Colin takes a sip of his drink and presses his lips together, eyes full of mischief. “Though I wouldn’t mind seeing you out of it later.”
Penelope Featherington has seen several sides of Colin, so many she once thought she knew them all. But Colin Bridgerton turning bright red in embarrassment is definitely a new one.
“God, that was terribly cheesy, I swear I have better game than that.”
She laughs. Because she’s not entirely sure what is is happening, and because it is such a terrible line. “I would hope so. Otherwise I would be disappointed in all of the girls who have fell for you.”
Colin’s own laugh stops, and his face goes serious, determined. Another new face for her to catalog. Her brain is still catching up with real time, so it feels like she blinks and then Colin is in front of her, that face even more determined than just moments ago.
“There haven’t been any other girls. Not for some time now,” he says. His hand searches for hers in the depths of his sweatshirt, and when he finds it, he laces their fingers together. “Not since that night years ago at my mum’s, when Will was a baby and-”
“Col, that was years ago, why-”
“You, Pen. That night, I thought about you being a mom one day, and I was jealous of whoever got to do that with you, and it suddenly everything felt like it clicked into place. One second, you were just my friend, and the next, you were so much more. But I was leaving again, and it didn’t feel right to just something like that on you, and then,” Colin stops, and swallows, his eyes searching over her face like he has done so any times before. “I came back. I’m here to stay and you are the first person I want to call and tell something to, the only person in the world I have ever even thought about having babies with, the only person who when I feel like I want to run, like my skin is itching and I am out of place, you are the person I can call, or see, and instantly, my brain goes quiet, my skin stops itching and I know as long as you are by my side, I never need to be anywhere else.”
He stops, his free hand coming up to cup her face, his thumb catching the tear rolling from her eyes. It feels like they have been here at least a hundred times by now, but each time, Penelope is still in awe of how softly he touches her cheek, how protected and cared for he makes her feel.
“That’s what I meant to say. Not that utterly stupid pick up line.” He smiles, such a Colin smile, and Penelope feels like she is floating. “Although, I’m not opposed to the sentiment behind it.”
Colin tugs her closer, just slightly, enough for her to come crashing back into reality.
“What are you saying?” She knows she should pull back, allow herself a moment to process and to dissect, to make sense of his words. Overanaylze and question, maybe ask him to say them all again.
But what she really want to do is tell him how she feels back.
“I’m saying, Penelope Featherington, I would really like to kiss you.”
Maybe telling him how she feels can wait just a bit.
“Oh,” she says, because her brain has officially stopped working. “Yes, please.”
He kisses her. Softly, at first, the hand cupping her face so gentle, she can barley feel it.
He pulls back, his eyes scanning her face, and she’s crying and laughing, and then she surges forward and captures his lips again, because she has dreamt of this moment since she was 16, and Colin catches her, pulling her into him and sliding his hand into her hair, and, and, and….
His hand gets caught. Colin pulls back, resting his forehead on hers. “I think I’m stuck,” he says, laughing just lightly.
“Oh, god, yeah I didn’t brush my hair after my shower this morning.” She steps back just a step so she can breath, so she can take in the moment. Her hands find her cheeks, burning red and sticky with happy tears, and she can’t help but burst into another fit of giggles, Colin sliding his free hand around her waist as he gently untangles himself from her hair.
“I must look a mess,” she confesses.
Colin smiles, bright and beautiful. “Yes. But you’re my mess.”
His lips find her again and for the first time in her life, Penelope thinks maybe being a bit of a mess is not such a bad thing.