Happy Families
Title: Happy Families
Rating: PG
Word count: 566 words
Characters/Pairings: Allan, Robin, Isabella, Guy, Archer; Isabella/Robin
Prompt: Archer/Guy/Isabella/Robin; the wedding day
Summary: "I hope you realise how messed up this is."
Notes: I have no idea what even happened here, so don't ask. Just if you want to read this, bear in mind that it's goodness knows what, the time-frame is all over the place, and it written at one in the morning...
“I hope you realise how messed up this is,” came Allan’s decidedly unhelpful comment. Robin ignored him and continued trying to flatten his hair, but the other man was not so easily deterred. “She’s practically your sister!”
“My mother was not her mother. My father was not her father. We share no blood, nor are we related through marriage - yet. I do not see how this causes any problems.”
“Yeah, but her mother and your father...” Allan gave an exaggerated shudder. He made as if to continue but Robin, foreseeing where he was going to take the conversation, held up a hand to stop it.
“Allan, shut up.”
For once in his life, Allan heeded the warning.
“I’ll just go... check on the flowers...” He left quickly and, mercifully, without another word.
With a sigh, Robin gave up on flattening his hair, and sat down heavily on a stool, head in hands. He really did not need Allan adding to his the swirl of thoughts in his head right now. He’d had enough to cope with earlier...
---
“I told him it was none of his business-”
“She’s my sister too!”
Archer cut off an indignant Guy mid-sentence, and the pair exchanged quelling looks that would ice over Locksley pond. Robin looked on in utter bemusement.
“Half-sister,” retorted Guy through gritted teeth, “and you didn’t even know she existed until two weeks ago.”
“S’hardly my fault I was raised in an orphanage is it? You can thank your precious saint of a mother for tha-”
“Don’t you dare say something about my mother,” Guy cut of his half-brother, his hand going instantly to the sword at his side, Archer matching him action for action.
Robin decided to intervene before they came to blows. He really did not want to be late to his own wedding because he’d had to restrain two squabbling men. “I hate to interrupt you if you’re going to bash Gisborne’s guts out,” he said casually, “but I believe you both had something important to tell me?”
Guy turned to face him. His hand, Robin noticed, did not leave the hilt of his sword. “Yes. I’m telling you now-”
“We’re telling you now...”
“-that if you harm my sister-”
“Our sister...”
“My sister, your half-sister. If you harm her in any way, hurt her feelings, even so much as cause her to shed a single tear over your sorry hide, you will rue the day you were ever born because I-”
“We-”
“-will hunt you down and personally ensure your barely-alive carcass is delivered, maggots and all, to the most savage beasts imaginable.”
As surreal as the conversation was, as worried as he ought to be by the fact that he was facing two armed men who had their swords at his throat while he had not even a dagger on him and were threatening him with a hideous fate, all Robin could think about was how Gisborne had not tried to elbow Archer out of the way at his last correction of ‘we’. He gulped, his Adam’s apple grazing two, incredibly sharp, sword-ends.
“Understood,” he choked out. “Understood completely.”
And just like that, his odd excuse for relations sheathed their swords and shook his hand in turn, and offered him their congratulations.
Robin shook his head as he watched them leave. What on earth had Allan put in his ale last night?
Rating: PG
Word count: 566 words
Characters/Pairings: Allan, Robin, Isabella, Guy, Archer; Isabella/Robin
Prompt: Archer/Guy/Isabella/Robin; the wedding day
Summary: "I hope you realise how messed up this is."
Notes: I have no idea what even happened here, so don't ask. Just if you want to read this, bear in mind that it's goodness knows what, the time-frame is all over the place, and it written at one in the morning...
“I hope you realise how messed up this is,” came Allan’s decidedly unhelpful comment. Robin ignored him and continued trying to flatten his hair, but the other man was not so easily deterred. “She’s practically your sister!”
“My mother was not her mother. My father was not her father. We share no blood, nor are we related through marriage - yet. I do not see how this causes any problems.”
“Yeah, but her mother and your father...” Allan gave an exaggerated shudder. He made as if to continue but Robin, foreseeing where he was going to take the conversation, held up a hand to stop it.
“Allan, shut up.”
For once in his life, Allan heeded the warning.
“I’ll just go... check on the flowers...” He left quickly and, mercifully, without another word.
With a sigh, Robin gave up on flattening his hair, and sat down heavily on a stool, head in hands. He really did not need Allan adding to his the swirl of thoughts in his head right now. He’d had enough to cope with earlier...
---
“I told him it was none of his business-”
“She’s my sister too!”
Archer cut off an indignant Guy mid-sentence, and the pair exchanged quelling looks that would ice over Locksley pond. Robin looked on in utter bemusement.
“Half-sister,” retorted Guy through gritted teeth, “and you didn’t even know she existed until two weeks ago.”
“S’hardly my fault I was raised in an orphanage is it? You can thank your precious saint of a mother for tha-”
“Don’t you dare say something about my mother,” Guy cut of his half-brother, his hand going instantly to the sword at his side, Archer matching him action for action.
Robin decided to intervene before they came to blows. He really did not want to be late to his own wedding because he’d had to restrain two squabbling men. “I hate to interrupt you if you’re going to bash Gisborne’s guts out,” he said casually, “but I believe you both had something important to tell me?”
Guy turned to face him. His hand, Robin noticed, did not leave the hilt of his sword. “Yes. I’m telling you now-”
“We’re telling you now...”
“-that if you harm my sister-”
“Our sister...”
“My sister, your half-sister. If you harm her in any way, hurt her feelings, even so much as cause her to shed a single tear over your sorry hide, you will rue the day you were ever born because I-”
“We-”
“-will hunt you down and personally ensure your barely-alive carcass is delivered, maggots and all, to the most savage beasts imaginable.”
As surreal as the conversation was, as worried as he ought to be by the fact that he was facing two armed men who had their swords at his throat while he had not even a dagger on him and were threatening him with a hideous fate, all Robin could think about was how Gisborne had not tried to elbow Archer out of the way at his last correction of ‘we’. He gulped, his Adam’s apple grazing two, incredibly sharp, sword-ends.
“Understood,” he choked out. “Understood completely.”
And just like that, his odd excuse for relations sheathed their swords and shook his hand in turn, and offered him their congratulations.
Robin shook his head as he watched them leave. What on earth had Allan put in his ale last night?