Chapter Text
Colin Bridgerton generally considered himself to be a cooperative, polite, conscientious person, especially when it came to keeping a good, clean, agreeable flat.
In all fairness, since purchasing the pied-à-terre some four years ago, he’d barely spent more than a month in it at any given time. While it certainly was an expense to keep a generally unused flat maintained, he did occasionally lend the space out to mates visiting London or (on one unique occasion) as a house swap á la The Holiday. In general, Colin kept to a surprisingly simple existence, choosing to invest in life experiences over material goods and property. Hence why his flat was little more than a few white walls, an unassuming kitchen, a decommissioned fireplace, and just one bedroom off a fairly modest reception area.
It was a far cry from Bridgerton House, his family’s stately townhome in the heart of Mayfair, which had been passed down through generations and could be described in any number of ways—subtle being the least of them. In contrast, Colin had barely hung a painting along his spartan walls, but if it had one thing going for it above all else, it was calm, quiet, and privacy.
As of one of eight children—and one of the middle ones, to boot—Colin greatly valued calm, quiet, and privacy.
While he and his brother Anthony (the self-appointed patriarch of his family since his father’s unexpected passing) generally disagreed on what made and didn’t make a good property investment, Colin preferred to be at the center of it all, rather than off in some vast country estate. When he was actually home, Colin favoured the energy of Central London, his flat just steps from the nearest high street, multiple tube lines, and a stone’s throw from the tranquil grounds of Brunswick Square Gardens. (Or even Regent’s Park, if he fancied a morning run—which he almost never did, but in theory, it was a grand idea! For others.)
His building, too, was surprisingly eclectic, nestled on the first floor of an imposing Edwardian mansion block. Serving the nearby University College, his neighbors were a diverse mix of students, academics, and young professionals. While most Londoners generally kept to themselves, Colin was always pleasantly surprised to find a new stack of free books left for picking through in the more common areas.
In his travels, Colin had seen a phenomenal number of unforgettable sites, from the Giant Redwood Trees of the Sierra Nevada, to the Vinicunca Cusco Rainbow Mountains of Peru, to five out of seven natural wonders of the world. Lately, however, he was keen to take a breather and just resettle into London for a bit. Reconnect with his family. Buy Gregory a pint. Meet his darling nieces and nephews. Lately, he was also considering collecting his thoughts into a travelog, of sorts. He wasn’t sure if that meant settling in for a month or two, or actually putting down greater roots—either way, for the foreseeable future, Colin Bridgerton had absolutely zero working holidays booked. A fact both daunting and astounding.
Still, call it a hunch, but Colin couldn’t shake the feeling that there was something just under his nose in London; a greater calling he hadn’t yet tapped into, beckoning out to him like a siren song.
The subtle chill of late autumn kicked up a brisk breeze as Colin unlocked his flat for the season, having just returned from a photography tour in the Oceania region. He cracked open a reception window to air the place out, lighting a few candles as he pulled sheets from the furniture and put a kettle on the gas hob.
From outside his small kitchen window, Colin could hear the bustle of life: a lorry passing through narrow streets, a young child—just barely of primary school age—enthusiastically recounting their school day to their mummy (and their role in the upcoming nativity play), the distant hum of a pop song streaming in from the flat below him while little feet tapped above him. For some, it could be overstimulating, but Colin reveled in it.
It felt good to be back, in its own way. Novel and different, yet still familiar and just shy of exciting.
For dinner, he’d collected a small bounty of supplies from Waitrose, opting for a simple chicken parm with a side of Brussels sprouts. It was straightforward enough to whip up on his own, requiring only his time and patience, both of which Colin had in spades at that point. Though a basic staple, the dish still filled his flat with the pleasant, appetizing aroma of melted cheese, fresh basil, freshly squeezed lemon, and the family favorite—caramelized onions—each ingredient pairing nicely with a few wedges of freshly toasted baguette.
By the time Colin settled in to eat, it was proper dark outside, his reception space illuminated only by the few candles he’d lit the hour prior, waving slightly against the breeze. He hadn’t yet disclosed to the family he was home; communicating with the Bridgerton brood was not unlike opening the floor gates in that respect, and he was biding his time.
As he pushed a Brussels sprout around his plate, his thoughts were intercepted by a soft rapping of fingers against his front door. Odd, given he hadn’t ordered any packages or take away.
He cleared his throat, rather unused to talking outside his own head at that point, as he shifted his chair back and approached the door.
“One second.”
Glancing through the spyhole, he was pleasantly surprised to see his sweet, pint-sized neighbor standing outside his door holding a takeaway box. He quickly unlocked the deadbolt and the front door, giving her a smile as he briefly drank in the sight of her.
Dressed down in a white knit cardigan over a loose faded shirt and leggings, her hair twisted up into a messy half bun, she looked… different in a way, but still as charming as ever. That was the first thing he had noticed about her years ago, when they’d first met inside their building’s stairwell. Her flat was adjacent to his and similar in size, with an additional spare room which—last he’d checked, she shared with a flat mate (though like Colin, her flat mate was often traveling for research purposes). He only knew about the spare room as he’d popped in one day to kill an exceptionally large spider, of all bloody things. She’d invited him to stay for tea, but he couldn’t stick around for long as he was packing up for his next excursion.
Their next encounter had been during a power cut. Clever woman that she is, Penelope kept spare candles in her hall cupboard and had lent him a few. So on and so forth, they had similar run-ins and had become agreeable, amiable neighbors, veering from friendly territory and into actual friends. Well, as close as two people could be with his travels.
In full transparency, Colin wasn’t opposed to rekindling their friendship and letting it grow even stronger, especially if he were to stick around longer. Penelope was always so easy to get on with.
“Penelope, what a brilliant surprise,” he greeted.
“You, too, Colin. Welcome home. Been back long?”
“No, in fact… I just got in this morning.”
“Will you be around for a while?” Penelope asked softly, though her voice had deepened slightly since the last time they’d encountered one another. Curious thing.
“Actually, I suspect… yes. Surprisingly,” he supplied, giving her a once over. “You are looking well.”
Penelope flushed noticeably, her hand falling to her midsection, her expression somewhat unreadable as she seemed to give her middle a soft, self-soothing rub. Colin’s brow slowly arched as the state of her condition dawned on him, and by the time the silence broke, they both awkwardly stumbled over their words in unison.
“Yes, well—” “Oh. Oh, I see.”
“My apologies,” Colin clipped out awkwardly. “You were first.”
“There wasn’t—oh! Oh, of course,” she fumbled right back as she tucked a loose chunk of firey red hair behind her ear. “Yes, well… see—”
“Well, that’s an exciting development,” Colin finally offered, smiling kindly, though still quite shocked. Not that he knew the personal ins and outs of Penelope’s life, but in all the times he’d seen her, even within the last six months, she’d shown no indication of being seriously involved with anyone.
“It is,” Penelope nodded her head automatically, flashing him a complicated smile. “Six months now, so it’s—” A soft laugh bubbled up inside of her. “Well, it’s unexpected! As you can imagine. Not that I suppose you could imagine, at least not when it comes to this.”
“No, surely, of course,” Colin murmured, thoughtfully mulling it over in his head. “But a good thing, I assume?”
“Oh! Well, yes,” she chirped, something much deeper and more complicated lingering behind her simple response. She gave her belly another soft, absent rub. “I… suppose since you’ll allegedly be home for a little while longer, you’ll have to get adjusted to living across from a baby at all hours.”
Colin felt a weirdly positive twitch in his chest at the prospect, finding he didn’t mind the idea so much—especially not if the baby was Penelope’s. Granted, he was also used to a large family and found the commotion didn’t faze him too much.
“Not at all; in fact, I’m happy to help, if you… well, if you ever needed it. Though I’m sure you’ve got it all covered.”
Colin’s brow arched slightly as, all at once, Penelope’s vibrant smile dimmed, looking somewhat crestfallen.
“Is everything alright… Pen?” he inquired softly. “Was it something I suggested?”
“No, Colin, you’re fine,” she murmured, nodding self-assuredly. “In fact, I’d appreciate the extra hand a great deal, though I’m sure you’ve got lots of things going on.”
“Not nearly enough, if I’m being honest,” Colin hedged, chuckling softly as his gaze briefly trailed off into the middle distance. Fixing his expression once more to a cool mask, his eyes fell to the takeaway container she was holding.
He had so many questions, but he settled on the easiest one for the moment.
“Is there anything I can help you with right now?” he offered.
As if remembering, Penelope’s eyes fell to the container with a soft, absentminded laugh.
“Oh—god, it’s embarrassing,” she blushed bright red, gesturing back to her flat door.
“Penelope, I have two older brothers and five younger siblings. There’s not a thing in the world you could tell me that I haven’t already heard before.”
Her brow arched in surprise—somehow in all their interactions, he omitted being from an exceptionally large family. The words seemed to help, however, as she took in a deep breath.
“It’s just that—well, the smell of whatever you were cooking drifted into my flat. And, as you can imagine, my cravings these days have been all over the place lately, and my sense of smell has gone through the roof.”
The tension in Colin’s shoulders eased as he hung his head with a soft chuckle. Of all the requests he’d been expecting—and he’d heard a fair few, from changing the big light in galley kitchen to replacing the batteries in her smoke alarm—this was the last one he’d expected.
“How dare you, Colin, it isn’t funny!” she protested, her voice wavering as the slightest hint of laughter began to creep through.
Her downright petulant response only made Colin laugh harder, the tension bursting between them as he pressed himself into his doorframe, unable to hold back an explosion of giggles. They were being a nuisance, the two of them, cracking up in a hallway with acoustics that were less than ideal, likely reverberating through the other flats. Though he truly didn’t give a tosh either way, he held the door open wider for her to step in.
“Oh dear. Penelope,” he chuckled, wiping away a stray tear. “Get in here, will you? There’s plenty left.”
She brushed past him with a soft harrumph, her hand giving his chest a light pat with the back of her palm.
“Don’t say another word. Shut it, ” she jokingly warned, pulling the lid from her container as she followed him into his kitchen. He flicked on a few lights along the way to prevent the dear woman from tripping.
“I haven’t said anything!” He raised his hands in mock innocence, just barely stifling another inelegant giggle.
“I know. It’s what you haven’t said,” she teased, gaze sparkling back at him as his shoulders shook with a light chuckle.
“It’s good to be home,” he murmured, warmth fizzing through him as he took her container and rinsed it under the sink.
“And it’s good to have you back,” she echoed calmly, leaning against the counter as she took in the state of things. Colin followed her gaze and cleared his throat.
“I had just sat down to eat, actually—if you’d care to join me.”
Something complicated flashed into Penelope’s gaze, but she remained silent as her eyes shifted between him and the plate he’d already pulled from a cupboard. Smiling gently, she nodded and breathed in slowly.
“Sure.”
Colin arranged the plate with the various things he’d prepared. He’d left the hob on low to keep the chicken warm and tender (he was a hungry boy that liked to go back for seconds), so thankfully, no reheating was required. Once he was done, he walked it to the table, setting it down across from his own plate, and sat across from her.
“It’s nothing fancy, just a chicken parm,” he offered humbly, stabbing the same Brussels sprout with his fork.
“It’s certainly better than anything I could whip up,” she offered, taking the first bite of the chicken with a soft, appreciative hum.
“Not true,” he protested. “I’ve had your biscuits.”
“Well, man cannot live on biscuits alone, Col,” she counter protested.
“Oh, is that a challenge?” he teased, grin breaking through.
“Most men, rather. Most men aren’t Colin Bridgerton.”
Colin felt a strange stirring in his chest as Penelope looked up from her plate, her long lashes casting a soft shadow over her eyes as they met his. Something about her using his full name completely threw him off, and with as much poise as he could muster, he waded back to calmer waters, clearing his throat softly.
“In the sense that—most men haven’t got a separate tank for sweets?” he asked delicately.
“Yes, precisely,” she replied calmly after exactly one beat.
He chuckled politely, his eyes briefly scattering around the combination reception and dining area. God, it actually was a bit of a proper mess in here, his carry-on suitcase wide open on the sofa from his haphazard unpacking.
“Sorry about the mess. I wasn’t expecting company.”
Penelope’s eyes trailed around the room.
“Making a mess would imply you own anything,” she teased, though not unkindly. “In all the years I’ve known you, this place hasn’t changed a bit.”
“I’m a creature of habit,” he supplied, brow slightly arching. “I’m barely around as it is, you know that.”
“I do—it isn’t a judgment, honestly,” she assured him. “I think I just expected more indications of your world travels by now. A few knick-knacks, I mean. Woven tapestries or antiques, perhaps.”
A smile softened Colin’s somewhat skeptical expression.
“I suppose you’re not wrong. I have picked up a few bits and bobs up along my travels—if you could see the state of my dressing room. I just haven’t had the time to unpack it all,” he reasoned, the back of his neck slightly flushing with embarrassment.
She smiled gently, hand softly setting her fork aside as she cupper her hand over his palm. He breathed in slowly, eyes intently meeting hers, but before he could chase the feeling further, her hand retreated back into her lap.
“It’s quite alright, Colin. We could always make a day out of it, you know? If the idea overwhelms you. I haven’t got much going on.”
“Oh, right… yeah. Not much going on aside from the miracle of life,” he chuckled, gesturing to her middle with his fork.
“Right, exactly,” she hummed softly, rubbing her belly methodically and quietly.
A beat of silence passed between them as Colin considered what to say next. He figured the baby was a safe enough topic. So, he soldiered on. The elephant in the room still lingered, but that answer would come in time, he was sure of it.
“Do you know what you’re having yet? Boy or girl?”
A delicate smile teased at the corner of Penelope’s lips.
“A little girl,” she murmured, fondly and privately.
For reasons unbeknownst to Colin, his heart swelled with adoration as his grin brightened. He leaned in slightly, hovering over his empty plate.
“That’s exciting! A darling little girl,” he replied softly, cupping his cheek into the palm of his hand. “Have you got names picked out yet? A whole nursery arranged?”
Penelope’s smile faded a bit as her hand stilled over her middle.
“I’m still narrowing down a few names. The nursery is a work-in-progress.”
“A work-in-progress…?”
“In the sense that it’s an empty room in my flat that baby girl will eventually live in—yes, a work-in-progress, I’m afraid,” she chuckled absentmindedly, retrieving her fork to take additional bites from her plate.
The wheels in Colin’s head instantly began turning with consideration, but he maintained some sense of calm about him, even as his lips slightly pursed in intrigue. Now would be the perfect, most ideal time to segue into elephant territory—perhaps to delicately broach of Penelope potentially needing assistance in some way, but he still played it somewhat coy.
“An empty room, yeah? What happened to the flat mate—Alfie, wasn’t it?”
A beat of silence passed between the two once more before Penelope filled it with a wry laugh.
“Colin, Alfie wasn’t my flat mate, he was my partner, and he’s… well, frankly, he’s out of the picture. Last I heard, he’s gone off to Tarzania.” She breathed in a heavy sigh, eyes darting to the door, no doubt plotting her best escape plan, based on the heavy crease in her brow and her shift in body language.
Colin blinked slowly in utter bafflement. Penelope had just dropped an extreme bombshell and he was still buffering.
“Wait—the two of you were…?”
“Yes? I suppose. But then—” She choked out a somewhat desperate sob. The topic was clearly flustering to Penelope. Colin hated to see her upset, especially in this state, but to be fair, he’d asked purely innocuous questions. “Christ, how do I explain this,” she murmured.
“You don’t have to, Pen, if you don’t want to,” he assured her, leaning in to take her hand. His larger palm completely enveloped hers as he stroked his thumb along her palm in a soothing manner. “I’m sorry if I’ve upset you in any way. It was the last thing I intended.”
Penelope seemed to visibly calm at that, offering Colin a soft, placid smirk in compromise.
“You’ve done nothing, Colin, except be your warm, caring self—so you have nothing to apologize for. Things with Alfie just got complicated. We weren’t so compatible, it seems. Not really, toward the end. More of a partnership of convenience. We fooled around; we made a mistake—” her breath hitched no doubt at the implication of calling her child a mistake; she paused to walk the statement back. “We were not careful . Alfie is a good man, but much more invested in his research, it seems. He’ll be a fine co-parent, I suppose. When he’s around.”
Colin finally exhaled as Penelope got to the tail end of her explanation. What a bombshell. He hadn’t let go of her hand, nor did he have any desire to remove himself. He felt a bounty of complicated emotions—everything from anger on Pen’s behalf, to frustration that she was facing this alone, to a weird crest of envy that he couldn’t quite define.
“What a bellend. Penelope, I’m so—”
She cut him off then, breathing sharply as she pulled her hands away.
“You don’t have to do that either, Colin. Really. It was a mutual decision.” She shook her head firmly, pushing back in her chair. The last thing Colin wanted was for Penelope to distance herself from him; he unconsciously leaned in closer in response, his eyes boring into hers with concern.
“I wanted this baby. Our relationship was already on the outset when I found out,” she elaborated, her voice smaller. “When the time came to decide, I wasn’t going to do anything to compromise being a mother. So that was it then.”
Colin went quiet, pondering his next response as he glanced down into his lap.
“To be fair, Pen, I still think he’s a bellend. Any bloke fortunate enough to be with you, let alone make a family with you, who doesn’t leap at the opportunity—” he shook his head in disbelief, breathing in sharply as he felt another wave of anger and disbelief pass through him. “I’m in disbelief that anyone could fumble something so badly. If it was my child…”
He trailed off then, eyes falling to Penelope’s belly as he deeply considered the prospect of being a father… in some distant, alternative universe, of course.
Colin always thought he would make a decent enough father. His hypothetical children would certainly have no shortage of love. They would always be taken care of and know in turn that they were secure to pursue anything their heart’s desired. He had the greatest of parents—a kind father who was nurturing, mischievous, and a terrific role model. His mother, while smothering and too involved at times, always had the very best of intentions for all her children. He knew he was loved unconditionally, and they had done their very best; at the end of the day, who could ask for more than that?
“Colin?” Penelope murmured, breaking him from his reverie as she self-consciously brushed her hand over her belly. His breath hitched as he tore his eyes away, swallowing a heavy lump back in his throat.
“Sorry,” he whispered.
“Are you alright?” she asked gently.
He went quiet as he seriously checked his mental state, not wishing to lie. Still. She also had a lot going on, clearly, so he played it safe.
“I’m here for you, Pen. You do know that, yeah? I live just across the hall.”
Penelope went pensive once more, offering him a smile erring just shy of polite as she shifted uncomfortably.
“My—my sister’s husband has already offered to help with setting up the baby’s cot, pram, and the like,” she murmured. “I’m sure you’ll be leaving soon. Where are you off to next in your travels?”
It was an unsubtle attempt to change the subject, but Colin wasn’t taking the bait. He breathed in slowly, keeping his calm about him as he sat back up.
“I’m at home base for quite some time. I haven’t made any decisions yet. Frankly, my heart was calling home, so I came home.”
“What will you do while you’re here?” she asked, leaning back in and genuinely interested.
“I hadn’t decided yet. I was thinking of picking up writing, catching up with my family.”
He pushed his chair in closer and, as a silent request, offered Pen his open palm once more. She shifted in her chair and slid her hand back into his, the motion platonic but still brimming with mutual respect and benevolence.
“Let me help you, Pen. Where I can. Even if it’s dinner in sometimes, just like this, or something I can take off your brother-in-law’s plate.” He gave her hand a gentle squeeze of encouragement. “I know you can handle this all on your own. Of course you can. But why should you have to?”
She smiled softly, taking it all into quiet consideration. But then a thought clearly struck her—enough to pull a cute little crease into her brow, followed by a soft laugh.
“You’re quite relentless, aren’t you?” she asked, pulling her other hand in to cup his.
He grinned brightly in return.
“Now you’re catching on.”
A radiant, vivacious laugh bubbled out of her once more. He bit back his own laughter, his heart radiant and fizzing and warm as the tension eased between them. He lingered in the comfortable silence for a few moments later before gently pulling his hand back.
“Shall I get you seconds? I meal-prepped enough for a few days—there’s plenty to spare.”
Penelope shook his head silently as she pushed back in her chair.
“Thank you, Colin, but no. We should be good from here.”
He flashed her a gentle smile at the operative use of we , because of course they—Penelope and baby—were a package deal at that point. It was sweet (however consciously or unconsciously) she was referring to them in those terms. He retreated from the table to give her a little bit of extra, depositing the nibbles into her takeaway box wordlessly before he approached the table once more.
As she stood from the table, the top of her head barely reaching his sternum, he handed her the takeaway box with a neutral smile, feeling an internal tug he couldn’t quite place or define.
“Thanks for popping by, Pen. It’s been really wonderful to see you.”
Penelope smiled softly up at him, cheeks pink and dewy with her natural glow.
“Not at all. I… needed this, I think.” She chuckled humorlessly, self-conscious as her eyes flitted away from his. “I’m happy you’ll be sticking around for a little longer. You’re right, we should definitely do this again.”
A playful smile teased at Colin’s lips.
“Could I get that in writing?”
“Which part?”
“The bit where I’m right.”
The younger woman broke out into another joyful laugh, his fingers splaying over her lips as they walked steadily to the front door, in no real rush to part ways.
“You’re impossible,” she murmured fondly, her hand wrapping around the front doorknob. As she turned it, she sized him up and down with her eyes, her gaze dropping as a familiar flush tickled her cheeks, turning them pretty and pink.
“Goodnight, Mr. Bridgerton,” she added softly, stepping back onto the threshold and taking a few paces toward her flat.
Colin watched her with palpable fondness and appreciation, her gait not quite a waddle yet, but still equally as adorable, even in her simple cardigan and slippers. As she reached her door, she cast him one last look over her shoulder, wiggling her fingers in a final, half-hearted attempt to say goodbye again.
“Goodnight,” Colin whispered, lingering on the sight of her retreating from view before shutting his door and securing the deadbolt.
With a heavy exhale he hadn’t even realized he was holding, he rested the weight of his body against the door, his heart humming a soft, steady rhythm.
Blimey. That was unexpected—certainly not in a bad way, but unexpected all the same. He smiled privately, intimately to himself, taking a few moments to stop and ruminate on what had just happened.
Eventually, and once he’d collected himself a little bit, he drifted back into the kitchen in a slight daze. There was still much to do: clean up and pack away the leftover chicken parm, unpack his suitcase and do a load of laundry. Possibly take a stab at getting to sleep at a decent enough time, despite his beguiling jetlag.
All of which sounded perfectly reasonable in his head, as his mind spun in a constant rhythm of Penelope, Penelope, Penelope.