Instead when these encounters happen, Colin nods, he smiles. He settles because he must, because Björn had asked-said it was necessary. But it’s impossible to not look and want, or to change that each glance he sends towards the strongman holds the promise of open arms and a heart welcomed home. Impossible to not notice Björn’s yearning expression, or the fear that someone might see and take note. Impossible not to wonder and hope that another chance might come along to put Björn back in his arms as he’d been that last Thanksgiving. Luck had given them a few precious days together, a chance to rediscover and relearn, to love open and easy and pretend that the rest of the world and it’s problems didn’t exist. And when it came time for Björn to leave, Colin had plaited Björn’s long hair with steady hands and deft fingers; accepting a lingering kiss at his door in parting.
When it comes, Colin celebrates Björn’s birthday by sitting atop a water tower with a curl of paper that he’s put his feelings onto. Colin writes it, but it’s Aegir who lights it, holding the burning paper between gloved fingertips until the heat singes the magical cloth and forces the glowing embers into the air. The whole process is melancholy as hell, like something out of a song, but having done it makes him feel better. His own birthday comes and goes, celebrated gayly by those he cherishes and it’s wonderful, but there are times during the party where he keenly feels the lack of a very certain person. His loved ones distract him with gentle teasing and affection, but late in the night when heavy limbs are tangled and the soft sounds of several people breathing make for white noise, Colin lays quietly in the dark, missing the curl of Björn’s large hand against his skin and particular tickle of Björn’s goatee against the back of his neck or his ear.
Over time, more and more pictures are added to the walls of his apartment; happy snapshots usually containing several people, candid shots and even a few more serious, studio shots of his growing family. Many more are digitized and uploaded to Instagram, Facebook, Tumblr: a whole world of photographs taken because his body is still healing, because he’s still doing physical therapy and still not spending ungodly hours at the ballet. Colin’s hair has grown out from it’s undercut since the Negaspace fiasco, shaggy and wild. Unlike the last time he wore it this way, this time his decision to leave it shaggy isn’t because he’s depressed, it’s because he’s just not thinking about whether or not he should go to a salon or barbershop. He’s busy and energetic, happy even. Quenton is one that helps give focus to his boundless energy, allowing him to work at the Cat Cafe and accepting the danseur’s affection and excitement with tolerance born of a long friendship, but draws the line at allowing Colin to sport a glitter beard while at work.
Months pass while Colin heals and makes plans for a future that always seems to include Björn in some way, as though everything will resolve and things will be fine between them. Colin knows it’s a childish daydream, but when he purchases a new coffee table after the old one is accidentally damaged, he still makes sure that the replacement is sturdy enough to handle use by Björn. The apartment is cozy and safe, he’s managed to make it comfortable and homey, but the pull to have more room, to settle in a place that is his own to do with as he wishes is undeniable. When he speaks about this with Van, she is understanding, agreeing to help him find a good place, and he thinks maybe they should go in together on it because he knows that she too wants a space of her own.
Colin dances with Nadia more and more often to get back into shape, using one of the DCBC practice rooms with permission. Christopher and September both seem pleased that once more Colin is physically able to work back towards the stage and while he’s clumsy like he hasn’t been since he was sixteen at first, everyone is supportive and certain that he’ll improve quickly. After all, his body remembers how to move, it’s just slow and not as responsive and aching anew in places he’d forgotten would ache. Nadia kisses him when then frustration pushes him to anger, she gently but firmly reminds him that he’s been out for months, so of course his body will not do what he wants the way he wants. Patience came hard, but he’s a professional and is determined and it’s better, slowly.
His hours at the Catfe dwindle while his hours with DCBC grow as the weather changes, grows cooler. Each week’s passing brings improvement, brings him closer to reclaiming his crown as the Prince, to taking the center stage. Still, he doesn’t make an appointment for personal grooming, but it’s not the pain that stops him. It’s the novelty of looking down at his legs and not having them perfectly smooth, of watching the patterns soap and water make in the hair. Of having Auguste run his fingers through Colin’s beard, or Nadia trying to put flowers in it after seeing some videos on Youtube. Of leaving marks in soft, sensitive places on each of his lovers and making them squirm because out of the lot he’s the only one that isn’t always clean-shaven.
There’s nothing that says he has to shave the beard, but it just feels like it’s all part of the same thing, so he’s putting it off as long as possible.
One morning while jogging, he spots a familiar, massive shape in the early morning light - it can only be Björn, and feels his heart trip with the joy of it. The swinging braid and broad shoulders are unmistakable, even in motion. I love you, I love you, the tri-part beat sings with it and there’s a part of Colin that wonders if his heart’s insistence that he and Björn were meant to be together will ever change or fade. Without thinking about what he’s doing or why, Colin cuts across the open grass and falls into place beside the strongman as easily as he did when they were still attending Hillworth.
“Morning.” Björn startles at the sound of Colin’s voice as though he’d shouted, but seems a bit more concerned with taking stock of their surroundings than the fact that Colin is pacing him. Ever aware of the danger he could be placing Colin in, the strongman returns the greeting with a voice voice rough like it were more often unused. There is a look in Björn’s eyes that speaks loneliness and want, of hope and fear; his jaw is set in a manner that makes the danseur ache to touch it, soothe the worried frown with a kiss. He shouldn’t press Björn, shouldn’t force him to contemplate whether or not their encounter would be enough to put him ‘in danger’, but Colin has always been too secure in his ability to handle things to be cautious when he wants something so badly.
“Come home with me.” They could go separately - Björn probably still knows the way, Florence Court wasn’t exactly difficult to find and Colin still lives in the same apartment, but he has a feeling that if he doesn’t keep with his former lover, Björn will disappear to protect him, the noble b*****d. So Colin reaches out to touch Björn’s arm, he can see the internal struggle playing over the blond’s face - the want to accept the offer, the need to leave Colin so that he’s not harmed, the fear and the yearning. “It’s still practically dark out, who’ll see? Come with me, Björn.” This time, it’s less a request than a command and Björn’s brow furrows even as he nods capitulation; Colin’s smile outshines the weak light of the false dawn and his hand creeps down to take Björn’s hand, to lead him home, a prize won that he was unwilling to release.
Inside his apartment, Tribble sleeps in a multi-colored curl atop the Enterprise shaped cat scratcher; her ears twitch to hear Björn’s grunt when he’s pushed against the door, but otherwise she doesn’t react. Her human won’t disturb her, no matter his antics, as long as she’s on the scratcher. This time, there is no hesitation or unspoken questions of what is wanted and what is allowed; Colin’s hands go around Björn’s neck, fingers digging into the back of his neck and pulling him down for a kiss that promises everything if only Björn gives in. It’s good when he does and the Colin rewards him with heated kisses and full body contact. “You missed my birthday,” Now Björn’s holding Colin up, the danseur’s legs around his waist, mouth against Björn’s ear as he speaks. Colin’s weight is a welcome thing, solid in strong arms and oh-so missed. Björn almost misses the sharpness of Colin’s words with the way those strong thighs squeeze his sides, the press of heels into his lower back.
Björn groans and Colin says it again, this time with a sharp yank to the strongman’s braid, “You missed my birthday.” His tone is as familiar as the weight in his arms and a shudder goes through Björn that Colin can feel; it thrills him, the knowing that Björn will bend for him - wants to. “I’m going to punish you for it.” Each word holds filthy promise and relief - here is something he can do for Colin, he can take his punishment and atone. He can be rewarded, if he does well. This is familiar and welcome and wanted.
“Please.”
WC: 1,785
