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“No, my mouth tastes of sex and body frosting, I need my toothbrush before I go anywhere near food.” Morgana dangles her panties from her hand. “Where’s my purse? I really can’t walk around carrying these without looking like a complete slag.” There’s a pause while Gwaine eyes her post-concert clubbing wear. “My purse, Gwaine,” she repeats, because there’s not much reply she can make to that.
“On the table, same place you always put it.” He yawns. “I need to get a second bed just for us to have sex on, so I can take post-hook-up naps without changing my sheets.”
Morgana wanders out of the bedroom in search of her boots, which probably got left in the hallway. “You’re just lazy. You even have a laundry room in your building, not all of us are that lucky.” Miraculously, her stockings are right next to her boots, so she picks everything up and sits in one of Gwaine’s mismatched kitchen chairs to pull them on. “Are the Wanderers playing the pub tonight? Merlin asked last night, but you weren’t around to ask.”
“Yeah, we’re playing a set. You coming?”
“To watch you waste your potential and doom yourself to staying with the second violinists forever? Wouldn’t dream of missing.” She tugs on the zipper of her right boot, which keeps on sticking. “Besides, everyone else will be there having a post-concert drink and I haven’t talked to anyone properly in weeks. For all I know Lancelot could finally have got off his arse and proposed. Though I think Gwen would have squealed loud enough for the whole continent to hear in that case.”
Gwaine punches a few buttons on his coffeemaker. “From what I’ve heard, you haven’t missed much. Merlin tells me everything, and he gossips worse than an old woman, so I would have heard anything interesting.”
“Unless Merlin and Arthur are having another honeymoon phase, they’re about due one.” She stuffs her panties in her purse and tries not to have flashbacks to university. “Especially with Merlin writing his great symphony, we all know there are going to be some virtuosic cello parts.”
“We’ll see if Uther lets the orchestra perform it. Arthur will obviously lobby quite hard for it.” And there’s all her things. “I’ll see you at the pub to watch you wasting your talent and your gorgeous instrument on fiddling, yes? Have a lovely day.”
“Call me if Mordred tries to abduct you,” Gwaine returns, never looking up from his coffeemaker, and Morgana breezes out of his flat.
Hopefully the next part will be up within a day or two!
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Of course Gwaine would be a concert violinist who also fiddles in a pub band! I'm looking forward to more of this 'verse.
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