Hold Me 'Til The Curtain Drops - Merlin - Gwen/Lancelot
Title: Hold Me 'Til The Curtain Drops
Pairing: Gwen/Lancelot
Word Count: 354
Rating: PG
A/N: Written for krazykipper for the Five Acts Meme.
Summary: After a hard day, Gwen comes home to Lancelot.
It's been a bad day.
A really, really bad day.
She has ruined Morgana's favourite dress, and her hands are aching from clutching a needle in an attempt to repair it. Even if her lady - her friend - smiles and assures her that it doesn't matter, that isn't true. Such a dress costs more than Gwen could ever dream of owning; it's even worse, somehow, to think that it is of no consequence to Morgana.
When she comes home, her shoulders ache and her hands hurt - but he is there.
He takes her to bed with no ulterior motive, and holds her against his broad chest. He doesn't complain about his own hardships under Arthur's thumb, and he doesn't provoke her into sharing her pains if she doesn't wish to.
He lies there. She lies with him.
Her head rests upon his chest and she listens to the huff of his breathing. His arms are around her, holding on as tightly as he dares, and the fingers of one hand strokes through the tangles of her hair, careful not to pull or tug. He's gentle, so gentle, and so very warm as well. Her eyes close and she snuggles closer, thinking that she would stay here forever if she could, and never move an inch. The thought of keeping Lancelot trapped in her bed for eternity has its own appeal as well.
Half-way to sleep, she feels his lips brush against the top of her head, a goodnight kiss that is more soothing than it has any right to be. In his arms, she feels as if the aches and pains of a servant's day's work are abandoning her for the night. Because of him, she can feel safe and calm.
"Rest," he advises when she tries to stir. "I'll wake you for dinner."
Her stomach grumbles at the thought of food, yet her hand clings onto the front of his shirt. "Wait," she insists, tired and slurred.
He settles down onto the bed with her again, the thought of preparing food banished. He relaxes and she relaxes with him: they have time. For this, they will always have time.
Pairing: Gwen/Lancelot
Word Count: 354
Rating: PG
A/N: Written for krazykipper for the Five Acts Meme.
Summary: After a hard day, Gwen comes home to Lancelot.
It's been a bad day.
A really, really bad day.
She has ruined Morgana's favourite dress, and her hands are aching from clutching a needle in an attempt to repair it. Even if her lady - her friend - smiles and assures her that it doesn't matter, that isn't true. Such a dress costs more than Gwen could ever dream of owning; it's even worse, somehow, to think that it is of no consequence to Morgana.
When she comes home, her shoulders ache and her hands hurt - but he is there.
He takes her to bed with no ulterior motive, and holds her against his broad chest. He doesn't complain about his own hardships under Arthur's thumb, and he doesn't provoke her into sharing her pains if she doesn't wish to.
He lies there. She lies with him.
Her head rests upon his chest and she listens to the huff of his breathing. His arms are around her, holding on as tightly as he dares, and the fingers of one hand strokes through the tangles of her hair, careful not to pull or tug. He's gentle, so gentle, and so very warm as well. Her eyes close and she snuggles closer, thinking that she would stay here forever if she could, and never move an inch. The thought of keeping Lancelot trapped in her bed for eternity has its own appeal as well.
Half-way to sleep, she feels his lips brush against the top of her head, a goodnight kiss that is more soothing than it has any right to be. In his arms, she feels as if the aches and pains of a servant's day's work are abandoning her for the night. Because of him, she can feel safe and calm.
"Rest," he advises when she tries to stir. "I'll wake you for dinner."
Her stomach grumbles at the thought of food, yet her hand clings onto the front of his shirt. "Wait," she insists, tired and slurred.
He settles down onto the bed with her again, the thought of preparing food banished. He relaxes and she relaxes with him: they have time. For this, they will always have time.