For some reason, Arthur was in a truly magnificent mood when he woke up.
He was mainly repressing the fact they'd have to go back to Fandom early tomorrow morning. (It would never be 'home'; if anything, this was home) So caught between sleeping in late and getting up to enjoy his surroundings some more, Arthur took the middle road and left his
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In position for other things, though, well. That . . . was entirely possible, given she hadn't been asleep for a while now.
. . . one might say Francine's morning-person-ness was, er, rubbing off on her.
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The blanket might be waiting a good long while for a phone call.
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The word ended in a bit of a garble that made no sense at all.
Really.
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"Not a sausage moment!"
It needed to be said. For several reasons.
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And stuff.
People only did that in movies, alright? Movies he did not want to associate with Katchoo and Francine!
"Sorry!" Merlin flailed backwards, tripping over his own feet as he yanked the door shut and went down like a sack of bony potatoes onto the nice hallway floor. "Ow."
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Katchoo refused to let one skinny big-eared wizard be a cold shower, although she wasn't that nice that she was going to say anything to disabuse him of the notion that she might throttle him at some later point when she had clothes on.
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...Apparently not very quiet trauma.
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The louder the personal naked open-mouthed trauma? The hell of a lot better.
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