Chapter Text
Colin Bridgerton to Pen 🖊🪶
27 August 2024
[20:58]
Colin: pick up pick up pick up
Colin: Penelope, stop rejecting my calls.
Colin: If the plan is to avoid me forever, just know that I root for your failure.
Saturday, 3 August 2024
Colin puts his finger on his nose last. This is the primary reason he has to drive.
He also has to drive because Benedict wants to get high and Eloise wants to read her book and Penelope has work she needs to get done using the hotspot on her phone. He’s almost certain the three of them had coordinated behind his back, agreeing to the noses method without clueing him in ahead of time.
“I expected better of you, Penelope,” says Colin as he adjusts the rearview.
“Well, that was your first mistake,” she replies, decisively clicking her seatbelt into place.
“Let’s go,” complains Benedict from the passenger seat, despite the fact that Colin is still adjusting his mirrors. “My gummy’s about to kick in.”
“Aren’t you too old, married, and boring to be behaving this way?”
“My kids aren’t here and I get carsick.”
“People who didn’t share don’t have any say in when we leave anyway.” Eloise says it so firmly, Colin almost laughs. She’s his only sibling that doesn’t want children, yet her ability to scold rivals Daphne’s and Anthony’s when she’s feeling truly grouchy.
“Nor do they have a say in when we stop,” says Colin for good measure, and glances in the rearview to see Penelope laugh through her nose as she opens her laptop and settles it onto her thighs.
“That’s rude,” says Benedict. “It’s my car.”
Colin thinks car is a generous word for the contraption he’s currently sitting in. All the other family vehicles had been taken, leaving them with the oldest car they own. It’s the one Anthony had passed down to Benedict after it had been passed down to Anthony by their father, and it still technically belongs to Benedict, although several of them had used it when they were learning to drive. Ben had purchased a newer car when Charles came along five years ago, but Colin doesn’t think any of them are ready to part with this one. Besides, Benedict and Sophie live in London. They primarily take the tube and Benedict usually leaves this car at Number Five.
Colin doesn’t have one because he isn’t in England often enough to need one, and Eloise refuses to get one on moral grounds. So here they are, the London set, driving to Aubrey Hall in a vehicle that is roughly Francesca’s age, Colin at the wheel.
He pretends to be irked, but in truth, he’s pleased. It’s nice to feel useful. Eloise can read and Penelope can work and Benedict can vibe and Colin… Colin can take care of everything. It reminds him of his father, how safe they all used to feel with him at the wheel. More than anything else, Colin desperately wants to be that person for his family— the person who makes them feel the safest in the world without even having to think about it. So he groans and accuses them of plotting against him, but he smiles as he hooks his phone up to the Bluetooth speaker they’d brought for music.
The car is too old to have an aux hookup. In fact, it’s too old to have most things, including electric windows and, apparently, functional aircon.
“How is it this hot?” complains Eloise only twenty minutes into the drive. It is far too soon for anyone to be complaining, but Colin is wiping sweat off of his forehead, so he doesn’t reprimand her. “Turn on the air con.”
“It’s been broken for years,” Benedict tells her. “We can roll down the windows when we’re off the motorway.”
“Mate, the majority of this trip is on the motorway,” Colin says, exasperated at the fact that Benedict hadn’t thought to warn them about this ahead of time. “What were you thinking?”
“That we needed to get to Aubrey Hall, Sophie and the kids took the other car, and this was our best option,” says Benedict, not seeming to comprehend the annoyance of the people around him. Penelope is being quiet, true, but Colin suspects it’s because she knows Benedict’s siblings will do the ribbing on her behalf. “Anyway, I don’t know why you’re complaining. You’re the one who wanted it to be just like when we were kids. This car is exactly what we would’ve driven in.”
“Why did you want it to be just like when you were kids?” Penelope’s fingers have stopped clacking against her laptop keyboard for the first time since they began their trip. Colin realizes that he’s already grown accustomed to the rhythmic sound of her acrylic nails against the keys.
That’s sort of what Penelope is to the Bridgertons. She had become theirs without them realizing it, a soothing, constant presence, quietly making noise in the back of the family until suddenly they didn’t quite sound right without her.
“I dunno,” lies Colin, signaling to change lanes. “Haven’t been home during the summer in a while. I guess I missed it.”
In truth, the only thing he knows is that he has been missing something. Colin isn’t sure of what it is, but he knows he doesn’t have it, and it’s starting to grate on him. Still, it’s easier to arrange his sadness like this for other people, to pretend that he is entirely melancholy for their childhood rather than missing something he’s not sure he ever had in the first place. He waits for Eloise and Benedict to take the mick out of him for it, but they just nod along as if they understand.
“I’m still trouncing you at pall mall,” says Eloise, true to form.
Colin’s fingers relax around the wheel, happy that they get it to an extent, and he smiles to himself as he drives.
“We should listen to an old playlist,” pipes up Benedict. “Strokes, Killers, The White Stripes.”
“Done,” Colin says, handing Benedict his phone. He leads off with a Foo Fighters song and they spend the next chunk of the drive loudly singing as they trundle down the motorway.
Colin’s mind has entirely left the heat until he notices that the two voices in the backseat have vanished from the singalong. Eloise’s hushed whisper tickles his ears, causing him to pick up on her panicked voice.
“It’s fine, Eloise,” he hears Penelope snap, an edge of meanness in her voice— which isn’t like her at all, because they all know she hates sounding like her mother.
“Everything alright back there?” asks Colin, reaching over to grab his phone from Benedict and pause the music.
“Yes,” says Penelope.
“No,” refutes Eloise. “Penelope is literally dying from heat.”
“I’m not dying.” She sounds endearingly exasperated. It would be adorable if she weren’t also clearly panting, an uncomfortable whinge in her voice. “I just get a little nauseated when I’m overheated like this.”
“I keep telling you, we can stop,” Eloise says impatiently. “Why are you arguing with me?”
“It’s not necessary. I don’t want to ruin the whole drive.”
“You wouldn’t be ruining the drive.” Benedict’s voice is perfectly chipper as he speaks. “Sophie already did that when she left without me.”
“If he says Sophie’s name five times over the duration of the trip, do we get bingo?” asks Penelope, clearly trying to distract, but she sounds so queasy that it doesn’t really work. A quick glance in the rearview tells Colin that she is leaning her head against the window, desperate for any coolness it can provide. Eloise is pressing her water bottle to Penelope’s forehead, but it’s clearly not cold enough, having long ago succumbed to the heat of the car.
“Right, fine, we won’t stop,” Eloise says. “But you should take off your clothes.”
“What?” Penelope splutters.
“Come on, we’re all adults here,” Eloise says, now even more impatient than she was before. If there’s one thing Colin knows about his little sister, is that she is like a dog with a bone when she is attempting to solve a problem and finds the solution clear. Even if nobody else agrees. “You’re about to boke, you don’t want to stop, you’re wearing long pants and a heavy top. You should take off your clothes.”
“As much as my sister would selfishly love to see you naked, she also has a point,” Benedict says, turning around in the front seat and giving Penelope a sympathetic stare. “I think you’d better strip, love.”
He says it like a mother hen who is gently guiding her flock. Colin doesn’t quite know how he does it. It’s a ridiculously lecherous sentence, or at least it feels like it to him— he would never dream of saying such a thing to Penelope. It would come out all wrong, and she’d blush and stutter and he’d bite back a grin, feeling chuffed and bad in equal measure. But Benedict has managed to say it in a way that apparently has Penelope agreeing, because with a moan, she tugs off her top.
“Your vest too,” Eloise says, and a moment later there’s the sound of Penelope’s vest hitting the car floor. “I’ll pour some water on your chest, hopefully that’ll help. Oy, eyes forward, Benedict.”
“Aye aye,” he says, turning around again. “But for the record, and I say this as an artist and a married man: that is a very nice bra, Penelope.”
Colin almost crashes the car, his fingers tightening around the wheel at the idea of Penelope in a bra, his brother having seen the bra. Just because she’s his friend, doesn’t mean he’s never noticed her tits, and the fact that they are currently sitting out there in the car while he is forced to keep his eyes on the road… well. Perhaps it’s better he can’t turn around, actually. Colin likes to think of himself as a gentleman and he doesn’t trust his ability not to ogle Penelope Featherington’s objectively glorious tits. A thought that he is able to have as her friend, in a very friendly way.
“Can you not be a perv?” he demands of Benedict, mostly because he can’t say the same thing to himself. “Jesus.”
“Don’t yell at him, he was just being nice,” Penelope protests. “Thank you, Benedict, it is a nice bra.”
“I think you should take off the leggings too,” Eloise says.
“Fine,” says Penelope, and there’s a shuffle of movement before Colin hears the sound of those hitting the car floor too.
“Wait, put my water bottle between your thighs,” suggests Eloise. “They’re all sweaty from the laptop.”
Colin raises his hand to hit the steering wheel before he realizes what he is doing. He stops himself, carefully lowering it back to the wheel. Next to him, Benedict lets out an almost imperceptible giggle.
“Oooh, that is better.” It comes out in a soft moan, and Colin wants to be glad that Penelope isn’t feeling sick anymore, but he’s too distracted by trying to be a dutiful friend in other ways.
“When did you start wearing boy shorts?” asks Eloise. “The cut is cute on you.”
Oh God, now he wants to see them. He wants to see the new cut of knickers that Penelope is apparently wearing, which is stupid because he’d never seen the old cut in the first place. But he suspects they would hit Penelope right at the top of her pale, pink, sweaty thighs between which she’s currently cradling a water bottle and Colin… Colin is just a fucking man.
“A few months ago,” says Penelope. “I like to wear them under dresses. I thought these were a different pair when I grabbed them this morning, they’re dead uncomfortable under leggings.”
“They go well with the bra,” Eloise says.
“Alright, enough,” interjects Colin through a forced chuckle. “Never in my thirty-three years have I spent this much time talking about women’s knickers.”
“Sucks for you,” says Penelope, which causes Benedict and Eloise to hoot with laughter.
“She’s back, ladies and gentlemen,” Benedict cheers through cupped hands.
“Brilliant,” says Eloise admiringly.
And this time, Colin can’t help but glance in the rearview mirror, at the sweet smile on Penelope’s face as she accepts their praise. He isn’t sure if the redness of her cheeks is a blush or a product of her overheated state, but it’s adorable just the same.
It would be very easy, just now, to shift his body upwards and let his eyes trail down to Penelope’s breasts. Instead, he takes his siblings’ ribbing with grace and keeps his eyes dutifully trained toward the motorway, purposefully not allowing his eyes to drift.
They continue driving, Colin determinedly keeping himself on lockdown, knowing all the while that there is a mostly naked woman in his backseat. And it does not matter that he is friends with her or that he knew her as a kid. He still very much wants to see.
“You’re doing a great job,” mutters Benedict about thirty minutes into this endeavor. “I’ve never seen posture like that before.”
“Shut up,” says Colin, gritting his teeth. “I’m driving.”
“Penelope, do you need more water poured on you?” asks Eloise, sounding concerned again. “You look flushed.”
“That might be good, actually.”
He hears her sigh of relief a moment later. Then Benedict says “it’s a good thing your bra is green and not some flimsy light color. Otherwise Eloise would be getting a bit of a show.”
Oh, good. So now Colin can picture the color of her bra too. Great.
“Could you go back to talking about your wife nonstop, please?”
“Who’s to say I can’t do both?”
Benedict spends the next hour blabbering aimlessly about Sophie and his kids, all the while picking random moments during which he attempts to get Colin to turn around. It has been years since Colin’s brothers have been able to torture him quite so efficiently. He is starting to wish that he was out traveling again.
“Here I was thinking we wouldn’t have to deal with children until we arrived,” says Colin, but Benedict, too high to care, just gives him a sleepy smile and goes back to texting Sophie.
The tension diffuses after Benedict stops fucking with him and curls up to take a nap. Colin, Eloise, and Penelope fall into an easy round of car games— the three of them are unbeatable at wordplay, so nobody else in the family will play with them. Everything is going well until a wanker in a fancy sports car starts zipping towards Colin, seeming disinterested in slowing down.
“He’s absolutely up your arse,” says Eloise.
“Eloise!” gasps Penelope. “Stop giving him the finger, it’s not helping.”
“It’s not hurting either,” says Eloise, which proves to be untrue a moment later when the driver nudges his car even closer to Colin’s bumper. “Colin, drive slower. He’ll hate that.”
“Just change lanes,” mumbles Benedict sleepily, before opening and closing his mouth twice and curling deeper into the window to resume his nap.
“He’s blocked in, wanker. Penelope, do me a favor and kick the back of Benedict’s seat.”
“I’m good,” she says wryly.
“Col— fuck, careful,” says Eloise, pointing to the car in front of him, which has its brakelights on. Colin curses, slamming his foot on the brake to stop himself from crashing as the cars in front of him slow to a near stop. Instinctively, he checks the car behind him in the rearview, ensuring it stopped in time, and then turns around to ask the girls in the backseat if they’re okay.
Eloise is fine, if a little irked. Benedict has grumpily woken up from his attempted nap. And Penelope… Penelope.
He had spent the entire drive trying to avoid looking at her in the rearview, but when he turns around to survey any potential damage, it’s as if the dam breaks. Without even meaning to, his eyes slip down her body, moving from her alarmed face to her sweaty decolletage to the deep green bra inside of which her breasts sit snuggly. There’s something about knowing he shouldn’t be seeing this that makes it impossible to look away from. He stares at the edging of lace around the cups, the way there’s no gap at the top because her breasts are spilling over. He stares at the tight straps on her shoulders and the little bow at the center of the bra, put there as if to remind him of just how feminine she truly is. Colin takes it all in helplessly, somehow feeling like he’s been knocked on his arse.
“Look at the bloody road, idiot,” Eloise says, this time actually kicking the back of Colin’s seat. “Everyone’s fine.”
He whirls around to face the road, where the car in front of him has resumed movement, albeit at a snail pace. Unbidden, Colin’s eyes flick back up to the rearview. Penelope is watching him, her expression unreadable. But when their eyes meet in the glass, he knows she knows he saw.
She crosses her arms across her chest, which only serves to make her breasts press tightly together, and says “oh, go on then. It’s not like you’ll ever have another opportunity to see them.”
It’s snarky enough to break him out of his haze, reminding Colin of just how much he likes Penelope. How integral she is to their family, how she wasn’t always this funny but being around the Bridgertons made her brave enough to speak her mind. And her mind, it turns out, is brilliant. So he most certainly cannot and will not ogle her, because the idea of making her feel uncomfortable with the same people that make her feel safe? It’s not fathomable. He’s got a responsibility to push away all thoughts of her breasts and let her exist with his family in a way that feels easy for her. He can’t be a creep.
Colin does not do what Colin wants to do, which is stammer and stare and compliment her. Instead, Colin does what Colin Bridgerton would do, which is give her a smirk and a wink in the mirror.
“I had no idea I’d be viewing a national monument on this drive.”
“And you didn’t even bring your camera.”
“Some sights are so beautiful, not even a camera could do them justice,” he says cheekily, before adding: “Trust me, I’m a world traveler.”
She snorts, then covers her mouth with her hand, amused eyes finding his in the mirror again. His smirk turns into more of an easy grin, and Colin is happy to see from the softness in her gaze that Penelope is smiling back.
It’s going to be fine. So he saw her in a bra one time. That’s not going to fuck up nearly two decades of friendship. It just absolutely, truly can never happen again.
Never.
Colin Bridgerton to Pen 🖊️🪶
27 August 2024
[22:47]
Colin: idk if this helps but
Colin: if i had known it was going to make it worse, i probably wouldn’t have come over to your flat and taken my clothes off for you.