Destined for Misfortune
Author: Shadowsun
Title: Destined for Misfortune
Rating: G
Characters: Merlin, Lancelot
Summary: Merlin is having a bad day.
Warnings: none
Word Count: 250
Prompt: 505, bad luck
A/N: Just a bit of mild Merlin!whump.
Merlin knew it. He was doomed. Cursed. Blighted by perpetual bad luck.
It wasn't enough that his washing machine decided to die when he didn't have the ready cash to fix it. No, the closest launderette just had to be in the next village over because he just had to move to a Hamlet so he could get the revisions on his book done. Which, fine, if he also had reliable transport, which he apparently didn't.
So here he was, trudging down the country lane that popped his tire, with his mobile held up to the sky as if it were a desperate offering to the cellular signal gods. If he could just get a bar or two, he could call Lance to come riding to the rescue in his eye-searing green VW Beetle.
As he prayed for a signal, he saw it coming for him and really hoped he could outrun it. Was that a bar? It was. It flickered. One. Two. Yes! He dialed quickly and put the phone to his ear.
Plink plunk. One droplet hit his face. Two. Three.
Then the sky opened up.
"Merlin?" Lance's voice came through while Merlin sat on the stone wall along the lane.
He sighed, his hair plastering itself to his face and his laundry day shirt sticking to his upper body. He could already feel a trickle of water running down his spine to gather through the gap in his jeans. Ugh.
"Hi, Lance. Could you come get me?"
Title: Destined for Misfortune
Rating: G
Characters: Merlin, Lancelot
Summary: Merlin is having a bad day.
Warnings: none
Word Count: 250
Prompt: 505, bad luck
A/N: Just a bit of mild Merlin!whump.
Merlin knew it. He was doomed. Cursed. Blighted by perpetual bad luck.
It wasn't enough that his washing machine decided to die when he didn't have the ready cash to fix it. No, the closest launderette just had to be in the next village over because he just had to move to a Hamlet so he could get the revisions on his book done. Which, fine, if he also had reliable transport, which he apparently didn't.
So here he was, trudging down the country lane that popped his tire, with his mobile held up to the sky as if it were a desperate offering to the cellular signal gods. If he could just get a bar or two, he could call Lance to come riding to the rescue in his eye-searing green VW Beetle.
As he prayed for a signal, he saw it coming for him and really hoped he could outrun it. Was that a bar? It was. It flickered. One. Two. Yes! He dialed quickly and put the phone to his ear.
Plink plunk. One droplet hit his face. Two. Three.
Then the sky opened up.
"Merlin?" Lance's voice came through while Merlin sat on the stone wall along the lane.
He sighed, his hair plastering itself to his face and his laundry day shirt sticking to his upper body. He could already feel a trickle of water running down his spine to gather through the gap in his jeans. Ugh.
"Hi, Lance. Could you come get me?"