fic: An odd situation by an odd author.
Author: Georgia (Merlin'sGeekyFan)
Synopsis: Someone gave me crack and fic spilled out of my nostrils. ^_^ Written for this prompt: "There's something odd with this situation.”
Pairing: Arthur/Merlin
Warnings: None but mage crack and purposefully rubbish fic.
Rating: PG at most
Word Count: 680 + The End
Special Notices: Blame stand_december :P
Disclaimer: I don’t own Merlin. ...Yeah that's all. Sue me, I'm tired and sick! No wait... don't sue me. XD
"There's something odd with this situation.” Merlin nodded in agreement, only to feel his skull crash onto the ceiling then causing his nose to squash painfully against the top of the book shelf.
And oh what a situation it was. Let’s recap.
After a few hours of riding practice in the warm summer sun Arthur had returned to his chambers, fully expecting Merlin to be waiting there to help him with his riding gear. But he wasn’t. Annoyed and all too eager to torment his manservant for a bit, Arthur had stormed down the corridors to the physician’s quarters. Slamming the heavy oak door open Arthur was ready to tear into Merlin, the insults hovering at the tip of his tongue before they disappeared along with all manner of sense in the room.
Merlin was here all right, that much was clear. His idiot manservant was stuck firmly between the stone sidewall of the fireplace, and the thick wood of a heavily stuffed bookcase. His face was staring down at the top of the bookcase and one foot had wound itself into a tight gap between two books on one of the shelves. Merlin’s arms were something to be wondered at, as both hands were wedged into the boot of his dangling foot.
Perhaps most impressive of all was that Merlin had propped a book in front of his face and was turning the pages with his nose.
So now we’re caught up, I’m sure you’re wondering how this peculiar event came to be. Well, I am too, let’s see what I can make up in the next five minutes shall we?
Glaring sourly at his now toppled book (as he couldn’t quite turn his head to glare at Arthur) Merlin gingerly rubbed his nose against the bookcase to soothe the pain. He was never going to live this one down.
“Merlin…” Arthur began tentatively with an utterly obscene amount of joy lacing his voice, “How long have you been… there?” Wrinkling his nose Merlin carefully avoided sneezing at the dust his nose-rubbing had stirred and sighed. Damn everything.
“Few hours.” Silence stretched for a moment.
“And… how?” Ah the million pound question bundled up into one ineloquent little sentence. The question that every reader has been waiting to know the answer to since they started reading this fic. The question that the author is now determinedly avoiding, hoping by babbling on for long enough about the question rather than the answer she might have some inspiration. …There we go!
“Well… I’d rather not say.” Replied Merlin (although the author really does have an idea, she’s just stalling a bit more for the sake of tension). And it wasn’t just that the story was embarrassing, nor that it was quite painful to speak with his throat at such an awkward angle, or even just because the author was still stalling! He just really couldn’t tell Arthur.
*-*-*-*-*-*-*
It had seemed like such a great idea at the time, as all inevitably terrible ideas do. Leafing through his spell book on one of his rare days off Merlin had stumbled upon a little spell ‘designed to help you get out of tricky spots’. And of course, thanks to the balmy heat which made him dozy and relaxed, and of course the vindictive insanity of his fanfic author, Merlin predictably mispronounced the fated spell and somehow through fandom madness and lazy vague explanation the effects decided to reverse themselves.
Damn everything, Merlin had thought.
*-*-*-*-*-*-*
So finally through much giggling and prodding and knocked elbows Arthur tugged Merlin out of his nook, promptly falling - quite literally - into peals of laughter that brought tears of mirth to his eyes.
With an indignant ‘hmph’ of annoyance Merlin stomped upstairs saying very clearly as he went;
“Well see if I ever sleep with you again!” Eyes snapping wide Arthur chased after Merlin amid the accomplished and somewhat maniacal laughter of the illusive and demonic author…
In other words, all was relatively normal in Camelot…
…and Merlin was much more flexible now…
…enjoy that thought. ^_^
The End.
Synopsis: Someone gave me crack and fic spilled out of my nostrils. ^_^ Written for this prompt: "There's something odd with this situation.”
Pairing: Arthur/Merlin
Warnings: None but mage crack and purposefully rubbish fic.
Rating: PG at most
Word Count: 680 + The End
Special Notices: Blame stand_december :P
Disclaimer: I don’t own Merlin. ...Yeah that's all. Sue me, I'm tired and sick! No wait... don't sue me. XD
"There's something odd with this situation.” Merlin nodded in agreement, only to feel his skull crash onto the ceiling then causing his nose to squash painfully against the top of the book shelf.
And oh what a situation it was. Let’s recap.
After a few hours of riding practice in the warm summer sun Arthur had returned to his chambers, fully expecting Merlin to be waiting there to help him with his riding gear. But he wasn’t. Annoyed and all too eager to torment his manservant for a bit, Arthur had stormed down the corridors to the physician’s quarters. Slamming the heavy oak door open Arthur was ready to tear into Merlin, the insults hovering at the tip of his tongue before they disappeared along with all manner of sense in the room.
Merlin was here all right, that much was clear. His idiot manservant was stuck firmly between the stone sidewall of the fireplace, and the thick wood of a heavily stuffed bookcase. His face was staring down at the top of the bookcase and one foot had wound itself into a tight gap between two books on one of the shelves. Merlin’s arms were something to be wondered at, as both hands were wedged into the boot of his dangling foot.
Perhaps most impressive of all was that Merlin had propped a book in front of his face and was turning the pages with his nose.
So now we’re caught up, I’m sure you’re wondering how this peculiar event came to be. Well, I am too, let’s see what I can make up in the next five minutes shall we?
Glaring sourly at his now toppled book (as he couldn’t quite turn his head to glare at Arthur) Merlin gingerly rubbed his nose against the bookcase to soothe the pain. He was never going to live this one down.
“Merlin…” Arthur began tentatively with an utterly obscene amount of joy lacing his voice, “How long have you been… there?” Wrinkling his nose Merlin carefully avoided sneezing at the dust his nose-rubbing had stirred and sighed. Damn everything.
“Few hours.” Silence stretched for a moment.
“And… how?” Ah the million pound question bundled up into one ineloquent little sentence. The question that every reader has been waiting to know the answer to since they started reading this fic. The question that the author is now determinedly avoiding, hoping by babbling on for long enough about the question rather than the answer she might have some inspiration. …There we go!
“Well… I’d rather not say.” Replied Merlin (although the author really does have an idea, she’s just stalling a bit more for the sake of tension). And it wasn’t just that the story was embarrassing, nor that it was quite painful to speak with his throat at such an awkward angle, or even just because the author was still stalling! He just really couldn’t tell Arthur.
*-*-*-*-*-*-*
It had seemed like such a great idea at the time, as all inevitably terrible ideas do. Leafing through his spell book on one of his rare days off Merlin had stumbled upon a little spell ‘designed to help you get out of tricky spots’. And of course, thanks to the balmy heat which made him dozy and relaxed, and of course the vindictive insanity of his fanfic author, Merlin predictably mispronounced the fated spell and somehow through fandom madness and lazy vague explanation the effects decided to reverse themselves.
Damn everything, Merlin had thought.
*-*-*-*-*-*-*
So finally through much giggling and prodding and knocked elbows Arthur tugged Merlin out of his nook, promptly falling - quite literally - into peals of laughter that brought tears of mirth to his eyes.
With an indignant ‘hmph’ of annoyance Merlin stomped upstairs saying very clearly as he went;
“Well see if I ever sleep with you again!” Eyes snapping wide Arthur chased after Merlin amid the accomplished and somewhat maniacal laughter of the illusive and demonic author…
In other words, all was relatively normal in Camelot…
…and Merlin was much more flexible now…
…enjoy that thought. ^_^
The End.