Touching Down
London was cold, which was a stark contrast to weeks spent in deserts and pretend jungles. When Colin got there he was reminded with a most surreal shock that where he called home it was late autumn. It felt as though he'd been away for years, when it had in fact only been three months.
“Ah, the fine English weather,” Eamon shivered in his long black coat as they made their way out of the terminal of London City Airport. He'd come to collect Colin and take him to his hotel, eliminating the need for a driver. “And how are you lovey?” He slipped an arm around Jared's shoulders.
Jared was in fact pale and listless, huddled down in his own bulky suede coat—they'd had the sense to remember it was November and dress accordingly, even if it wasn't real to Colin until he stepped off the plane. Jared had been sick on the plane, and Colin hoped it wasn't a parting shot from Thailand, sending him off with a nice case of food poisoning or a virus.
“Not so good,” Jared gave Eamon a weak smile. “Air sick.”
“Ugh,” Eamon said sympathetically. “I usually have to take something before I fly myself.”
Shivering, crossing to the lot where Eamon's car was parked, something else vividly reminded Colin that he was back home.
“Christ, where did they come from?” Eamon released Jared and hurried Colin to the car, opening the door for him as several photographers started clicking away. Before Colin could get in though, three young women ran over, bouncy and gasping in the icy air, their breath coming out in puffs.
“Are you Colin Farrell?” One asked, her blue eyes wide with hope. Her friends, huddled around her in knit caps and scarves, were looking at him expectantly as well.
“Aye,” he gave Eamon a little smile, and his brother rolled his eyes and went around the other side of the car. The girls tittered, quickly getting into their handbags for something to write on.
Colin signed autographs and answered their gushing questions, telling them that yes, he was in London for a while, and no, he couldn't tell them where he was staying. One ran her hand through his hair and proclaimed the color ‘beautiful.' Glancing into the car, he saw Eamon tapping his fingers on the steering wheel, Jared sitting slumped in the back, a little smile on his lips. He gave each of the girls a hug and a kiss and got in. The photographers were still hovering near the terminal, snapping pictures from across the road.
“I think they spring up out of the ground,” Eamon said as they made their way through the maze of the airport parking lot. “You don't even see them until they pop up.”
“I think you're just jealous.” Colin glanced into the backseat. “You all right?” He said softly.
Jared nodded, still looking rather pale, the stark light coming through the windows enhancing it. “I'll be fine. I don't think there's anything left to throw up.”
Colin turned back around, giving a little smirk. “You know, that's the first time I've ever actually seen someone use an air sickness bag.”
“Now you have something to tell your grandkids.”
“Hey,” Eamon looked into the rearview mirror suspiciously. “Speaking of that, are you sure he's not just up the duff Colin?”
Colin gave him a withering look and Eamon grinned.
London was just as historically rich and culturally steeped as any city they had visited. It mixed old and new as much as Marrakech or Bangkok had, cutting edge one minute, ancient and majestic the next. As they drove along the Thames toward the area near Tower Bridge where their hotel was, Colin gazed out the window, taking in the vast majesty of the city rising above the winding waterway.
“You ever been to London?” Colin asked Jared. “I can't believe I've never even asked.”
“No.” He was staring out the window as well, on Colin's side of the car. “I predict lots of sightseeing in our future.”
“I've seen most of it before,” Colin chuckled. “I'll be the tour guide.”
“Intimate knowledge of the interior of every pub in the East End doesn't count Colin,” Eamon informed him.
Their hotel, the Britannia International, was an enormous, dazzling glass structure that sat on Canary Wharf, with a distant view of Tower Bridge.
“It's a shame the Millennium Dome is gone now,” Colin said as they entered the lobby, which was suitably impressive for the scope of the building, cavernous and shimmering. “It was a hell of a sight across the water.”
Jared was plodding along behind him, lugging his suitcases. Eamon, who followed them in, came up behind Jared and stopped him. “I'll carry these since you're feeling ill.” He took Jared's suitcases and gave him a smile. Jared looked like he was about to protest, but then closed his mouth and returned a weak smile. There were dark circles under his eyes—Colin figured he probably didn't look much better, despite being healthy. He'd had enough of traveling for the moment.
Colin carried his own suitcases up to the long check-in desk and thankfully found no problems with the reservations. Oliver said he would secure everything, but there was always the possibility—and probability—of a glitch. The woman behind the desk kept flicking her gaze from Colin to Jared while they filled out their information, but didn't say anything. Colin figured she probably saw her fair share of celebrities come through.
Colin's room was spacious, green carpet and cream-colored walls, with mahogany furniture and flowers everywhere. The bed sat beneath a steepled ceiling, the wall behind it covered with mirrors and draped with curtains. Colin pushed aside the complimentary bouquet of pink roses and sprawled on the bed on his stomach.
“Civilization, how I've missed you,” he said into the mattress, running his fingers over the satin coverlet. “Don't ever leave me again.”
“This is posh,” Eamon was poking into closets and drawers, checking things out. “You spoiled celebrities.”
Colin rolled over on the bed, gazing up at the pointed ceiling. “Hey, live my life for the past couple of months and then see if you can say that.”
Eamon poked around some more and then came over to the bed, picking up the bouquet and studying it critically. “I hope Jared is all right,” he said with a frown. They had dropped him off in his room down the hall before coming to Colin's.
“He's just got a stomach bug,” Colin rubbed his hands over his face. “Actually it's probably from the food last night. All that foreign shite fucks with you after you eat it for too long. Some days I spent more time in the toilet than on the set.”
Eamon looked thoughtful and still a bit worried, plucking petals off of one of the flowers.
Colin sat up on his elbow, looking at him. “Eamon. You're going to have to get over him.”
Eamon gave him a sharp look, then smirked. “I am, Colin. He's all yours.”
“I'm not saying it to be jealous and all. I'm just trying to save you some heartache.” He sat up, looking around the room. It was huge. He had friends that didn't live in places this big.
“Colin, I'm over him,” Eamon dropped the bouquet back on the bed. “I was sexually attracted to him. That doesn't denote infatuation.”
“Oh really?” Colin scratched at the top of his head. “What's all that carrying his bags shite then? What's all this worrying about him?”
“He's sick!” Eamon said, a little too defensively. “I think you should go and fret over him, personally. It's your job after all.”
“We're not boyfriends,” Colin scooted off the bed. “We're not going to get into labeling things again. And I will go check on him, after he gets settled in.”
Colin called Oliver to let him know he was in. Oliver was renting a suite on the top floor of the hotel, and he told Colin to meet him up there in the morning so they could go over some things. In the meantime, he was ordered to get some rest.
Eamon told Colin he'd be back to go to dinner with them, since he was staying in another, more economic hotel nearby, not having a hot shot director to pay for his room. After he left Colin unpacked, changed into some fresh clothes, and went to visit Jared.
He was in one of the complimentary hotel robes, his hair tied back in a ponytail.
“Figured it would be easier this way, since I don't have you to hold it back this time,” Jared explained, leading him inside. His room was much like Colin's, but without the steepled ceiling or the mirrors.
Colin could only imagine what Eamon would say about him holding Jared's hair while he puked—surely that was some great sign of love and adoration. The fact was Jared had done it for him more than once when the germs and bad food were ravaging the production.
“Still feeling wojus?” Colin asked.
Jared frowned, standing next to the bed, which was turned down, the television on at the foot of it. “I don't know, because I have no idea what you just said. It's clear you've been around Eamon again.”
Colin chuckled and kneaded his shoulders. “Are you still feeling like shite?”
“No, but I am feeling like shit,” Jared rolled his head a little, then gave a soft sigh. “Why don't you do that on the bed? I don't feel like standing up anymore.”
Jared sat on the bed facing the television and Colin sat behind him, legs on either side of him, rubbing his shoulders. Jared was quiet. Even though it was only early afternoon, Colin felt ready to lay back and go to sleep.
“Fucking jet lag,” he murmured, digging his thumbs gently into Jared's shoulders through the terrycloth robe. “I'm still on Thailand time.”
“Me too,” Jared said wearily. “We should take a nap. Readjust ourselves.”
They lay down together on Jared's bed, Jared's head against Colin's shoulder—Colin figured if he had a virus, he was going to get it anyway. Jared's hair smelled faintly of shampoo, brushing against his cheek. Colin thought about how cozy they were getting, and how that should have alarmed him more than it did.
“I called Oliver,” Colin said. “He wants us up in his suite around nine tomorrow morning.”
“Mm,” Jared answered.
Colin set the alarm on his cell phone and they both slept heavily until it went off at six o'clock. Jared felt better after sleeping for a while and decided to join them for dinner. Colin felt worse, and just wanted to crawl back under the covers and sleep for a few more hours.
The restaurant downstairs was fancy like the rest of the hotel, with flower-patterned wallpaper and hanging lamps, drapes over the glass partitions between tables and gleaming oak everywhere. It was classy and expensive, and they had all dressed nicely for it. Some of the other cast and crew were staying at the hotel, but Colin didn't see any of them. He figured they were all being smart and sleeping.
“I got a present for you,” Eamon pulled a large, thick envelope out of his bag and put it on the table between them. “Came just a couple days ago. I've been carrying it around, I almost forgot about it.”
Colin picked it up, knowing what it was before he even tore open the envelope. Jared was watching him, sipping soup off a spoon. His color looked a little better now, the blue sweater he was wearing setting off his eyes. “What's that?” He asked.
“It's a script.” Colin drew it out. “My agent sent it.”
Jared put down his spoon, watching him as he turned the pages, skimming it. “A script, huh?”
“Yeah, it's about that time.” He didn't look up. There was a sense of impending finality that seemed to creep out of the envelope as well. “Only a month left, gotta get something else lined up.”
“Yeah,” Jared said dully. His gloom hung over Colin like a black cloud.
“They're filming that in South Africa,” Eamon said. “Isn't that what you said?”
“Yes,” Colin peered at one of the pages, then closed it. He shot Jared a look as he tucked it back in the envelope.
“I've been looking at a few things myself,” Jared said, looking down at his soup, then picking up his spoon again and dipping it back into it, stirring. “I was thinking about going back to the recording studio, but Shannon and I haven't gotten as much written as we wanted to since I've been gone. That's why I'm glad he's coming.”
“Who's Shannon?” Eamon took a drink of his champagne, the bottle of which he and Colin were sharing. Jared had opted for water.
“My brother,” Jared looked up at him, a more normal tone returning to his voice. “He's coming for a week. He'll be here Tuesday.”
“Oh?” Eamon set the glass down, then smiled. “Is he as pretty as you?”
Colin shot Eamon a look, tucking the script beneath his chair to get it out of the way.
“How am I supposed to answer that?” Jared said dryly. “He's my brother.”
“So? You don't know if your brother is good-looking?”
“Do you think Colin is good-looking?”
Eamon looked over at Colin, who was picking at his food. “I think he's as ganky as the back-end of shite cart,” Eamon gave Colin a wink, then smiled at Jared.
Jared paused with his spoon halfway to his mouth. “I'll take that as a no.”
“But those girls at the airport seemed to think he was hot,” Eamon went on. “So I'd say yes, he's good looking.”
“So I should judge Shannon's appearance by how often he gets laid?”
“Sure. I think it's an accurate barometer. Does he get a lot of girls?” Eamon leaned forward and gave him a knowing smile. “Or a lot of blokes?”
“Ooh, do you smell that?” Colin waved his hand in front of his face. “Smells like desperation.”
Eamon looked over at him and whispered, “It's the salmon actually. It doesn't agree with me.”
Jared dropped his spoon in his bowl and picked up his napkin from his lap. “Well, I see you can take the boys out of the ‘shite' house, but you can't clean the shit off the boys, can you? We're only in a four star restaurant at the moment, after all.”
Colin and Eamon snickered quietly.
“So is he as adventurous as you or not?” Eamon asked as he went back to his food.
“I don't know,” Jared shrugged and took a drink of his water. “I think he's straight.” His voice echoed inside the glass. “I mean, he knows I'm not, but he's never went out looking for guys with me or anything.”
Colin paused in cutting up his chicken. “He knows you're bi?”
Jared set his glass down, sucking water from his lower lip. He raised an eyebrow at Colin. “I slept with one of his friends.”
Colin should have realized Jared wouldn't hide it from his family. The idea made him a little uneasy. If the patio in Bangkok was any indication, brothers did indeed share everything. While Colin was feeling more comfortable with things these days, he wasn't exactly ready to spread the word. He liked it in the safe confines of their little box. Within the box he could be himself—outside it wasn't as easy.
“Anyway,” Jared shrugged and went back to his soup. “Hit on him, Eamon. He'll either say yes or punch you in the mouth.”
“I'm not sure which would be sexier.”
After dinner Colin walked around with Jared to check out the hotel. They found the pool, and discovered they also had several hot tubs, a sauna, and an exercise room. Far more interesting to Colin was a swank little bar with decorative wrought-iron latticework hanging from the ceiling and a mural splashed across the wall behind the bar.
“If you were feeling better we could stop and have a drink,” Colin lamented.
“You can drink. I'll sit.”
They sat at a little table near the windows, looking out at the water and the twinkling lights of London. Colin was lost in his thoughts, finger stroking idly over the ripped edge of the envelope, which he had lying on the table.
“So,” Jared said softly. “Will you miss me?”
Colin looked over at him. Jared's hands were wrapped around a glass of soda, the closest thing he could find to something he called ginger ale. He was looking down at it. Colin could feel the tip of Jared's shoe brushing against his leg underneath the table.
“Why do you ask that?”
“Because,” Jared looked up, his eyes falling briefly on the envelope. “You're pretty casual about moving on. But then, you did explain how it works, back in Thailand.” Jared took a sip of his drink, gazing at Colin over the rim of the glass.
Colin thought about things he could say. Sharp, witty, sentimental—they all had a certain appeal. He decided instead on the most honest thing he was feeling at the moment. “I don't really want to talk about it right now.”
“All right.” Jared looked back down at his glass.
They sat in silence for a while, Colin staring out the window, Jared sipping his drink. Colin had a beer, but he didn't feel much like drinking it now that he had it. Jared's foot continued to brush his leg, finally hooking around his calf and rubbing up and down slowly. The bar was pretty much empty, they were off in their own little corner, and it was one of those times that Colin really paid attention to just how much discretion Jared actually had.
“Thank you,” Jared finally said, drawing Colin's attention away from the window. “For the plane.” He sighed, pushing his hair back from his face. “Everything you did for me.”
“You would have done it for me,” Colin said softly. “You wanna go back upstairs and lay down?”
“I think so,” Jared smiled a little. “Stay with me tonight?”
Colin smirked. “That's my line.”
“Even so,” Jared said, still smiling. “Will you?”
“Yes,” Colin said softly. “We have to make sure we're up in Oliver's suite on time tomorrow, though.”
Jared ordered them a wake up call and Colin set the alarm on his phone as well, because he had a habit of saying “uh huh” to the person giving the wake up call and then going back to sleep.
About twenty minutes after they lay down, Jared got up and rushed to the bathroom. Apparently soup and soda had not been a good idea. Colin got a rag and wiped his face and mouth after, then led him back to bed. “It's my turn to be the nursemaid,” he chuckled as he tucked him in. “Thankfully there's no gauze involved this time.”
“Tell me a story daddy,” Jared said weakly as he tucked himself into the crook of Colin's arm. Colin snorted, but Jared was serious. “I mean it, I wanna hear a story.”
“I don't know any stories,” Colin frowned.
“You're Irish, and an actor. How do you not know any stories? Make something up.”
Colin thought about it. He was sitting half-propped on the pillows, Jared snuggled against him, lying on his back with his head on Colin's arm. Colin played with a strand of his hair for a minute while he tried to come up with something, and then finally cleared his throat.
“All right, but it'll probably be stupid.”
“Of course it will, I don't care,” Jared said groggily.
Colin smirked. “Thanks for your confidence.”
“Just tell the story.”
“All right. Once upon a time, there was this…this prince, but he was a fucking disgrace to his royal name. He was a total boozer, womanizer, got around all over the place.”
“Oh I know him,” Jared murmured.
“Yes, well. He had a good heart, but he didn't sit still for very long. Everyone in the kingdom knew him. Used to go to everyone's parties. Then one day, he met this…this traveling salesman. Real smooth talker, could sell you a line of bullshit just like that.” He snapped his fingers. “Had a sharp mouth, real sassy. Knew what he wanted and he was merciless until he got it.”
Jared let out a gust of air. “I know where this is going.”
Colin smirked and patted his forehead. “Well, one day him and the prince met, at this play, put on by this big time playwright. Well, they got hot for each other and ended up having all kinds of kinky sex.”
“Describe the sex,” Jared mumbled. “That's the best part.”
“I'm not gonna describe the sex. It's enough to know there were a lot of blowjobs, and hand jobs, and lots of anal. It was really hot.” Colin cleared his throat. “Well anyway, the traveling salesman asked the prince if he was so unhappy being a prince, why didn't he just quit it? Just be what he was in his heart, forget the restrictive trappings of his life. And the prince told him it wasn't that easy, you couldn't just stop being a prince in one day, but he didn't listen. He never listened.”
Colin paused. Jared didn't say anything. Colin could feel his body slowly going slack against his.
“So anyway,” Colin went on, not sure if Jared was still awake or not. “They had some good times together. That was the important part. They went all over the place together, from deserts, to jungles, and then into a big city full of lights. They had many wonderful and not so wonderful adventures together. One time the salesman even whacked the prince in the face with a tray when the prince was just trying to make a beautiful, tender gesture.”
Jared's breathing was soft and shallow. Colin was stroking his hair gently. He lowered his voice. “Then came the day they had to say goodbye. The prince had to go back to his kingdom, and the salesman had to go out into the land and sell his wares again. It was sad, but they carried with them all the wonderful things they had shared in their hearts. And of course wrote lots of letters and dropped in to see each other once in a while.”
Colin stopped stroking Jared's hair and peeked down at his face. His eyes were closed, his face reposed.
Colin dropped his head back against the pillow, gazing up at the ceiling. He started stroking Jared's hair again, gently, with two fingers. He spoke softly.
“But the prince never, ever got over him, hard as he tried.”
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