Fic: The trouble starts here
Title: The trouble starts here
Author: mustbethursday3
Rating/Warnings: G
Word Count: 477
Characters/Pairings: Arthur/Gwen/Merlin/Morgana - or a little Gwen/anyoftheotherthree if you squint.
Prompt(s): 30. OT4 food fight -- from camelot_love's Spring Fling.
Summary: Does what it says on the tin - sort of...not at all.
Author's notes: Two years ago I had a habit of claiming prompts, an addiction, which I am now cured of. BUT I still I owe like 3 or so fics - that I am aware of...ANYWAY I was wandering down memory lane and apparently I agreed to write this one too. So here it is. Because I don't need 4 on my conscious. It's not very good.
- - -
They’re drunk.
Everybody is thoroughly, unreservedly drunk and the Great Hall is a mess . And there, in the fray, perched high, his cheeks flushed crimson, is the King, recounting the same dirty joke he's been telling for the last hour.
As the night goes on, he's becoming increasingly incapable of remembering a single word of the orignal punchline, so the knights have begun suggesting things specific enough that Gwen doesn't really want to dwell on them.
Half listening, Merlin’s lost in a haze, giggling and whispering to himself, Gwen can feel it, lying with her back to his chest, his legs splayed out either side of hers. They’d tried to make it out of the hall and fallen; her wary, stumbling feet swept out from under her when his grip on her arm had become less helpful and more urgent as he’d tripped, pitching them both forward and down.
(She'd warned him about the punch. Sworn she wouldn't touch it this year...and yet here they were.)
From then on, the wall had simply been the only safe place with the a good view.
Slumped, beside them Arthur's rubbing at his eyes, again; a major casualty of the food war from two hours ago, he’s still recovering. But no matter how much he brushes at himself there's still potato and some kind of… icing.
She reaches over and touches the pink icing on his brow curiously, until some of it collects on her finger. She’s in the process of licking it from her fingertip - it’s strawberry - when she finds the prince’s gaze is locked onto her. She offers him a neighborly smile, and Arthur laughs, his chin tucking down in close to his bare chest.
Her head resting in Gwen’s lap, Morgana stirs and yawns at the sound, all pink tongue and lips, her fingers reaching up to tug some stray parsley from Gwen’s loose curls. She blinks up at Gwen for a moment, look like she's about to speak, but then wordlessly her eyes flutter shut again.
Abruptly, Merlin stops giggling and seems to realise that he’s barefoot.
This is his first birthday celebration; he'll do better next year.
She pulls his arms tighter around her as a draft picks up from the corridor.
(She can vaguely remember her first year when they'd lost Leon in the forest for 2 days.)
It's can be very surprising that anyone actually survives the King's birthday, the celebrations are that legendary.
And maybe they'll never see Merlin's boots(, Arthur's tunic, or her best corset) ever again-- but, Gwen's too exhausted to do anything about it.
Exhaling, she closes her eyes; Merlin's surprisingly comfortable, and she's still warmly impaired enough to ignore that Arthur's staring at her again.
Gaius will more than likely find them before her father does.
(And if not, Gwen and Morgana have a standing agreement: to blame Arthur for any and all banquet debauchery.)
_______
I should be writing my essay. But I will take any and all distractions. Including 2 y.o prompts. I have no discipline...or shame.
Author: mustbethursday3
Rating/Warnings: G
Word Count: 477
Characters/Pairings: Arthur/Gwen/Merlin/Morgana - or a little Gwen/anyoftheotherthree if you squint.
Prompt(s): 30. OT4 food fight -- from camelot_love's Spring Fling.
Summary: Does what it says on the tin - sort of...not at all.
Author's notes: Two years ago I had a habit of claiming prompts, an addiction, which I am now cured of. BUT I still I owe like 3 or so fics - that I am aware of...ANYWAY I was wandering down memory lane and apparently I agreed to write this one too. So here it is. Because I don't need 4 on my conscious. It's not very good.
- - -
They’re drunk.
Everybody is thoroughly, unreservedly drunk and the Great Hall is a mess . And there, in the fray, perched high, his cheeks flushed crimson, is the King, recounting the same dirty joke he's been telling for the last hour.
As the night goes on, he's becoming increasingly incapable of remembering a single word of the orignal punchline, so the knights have begun suggesting things specific enough that Gwen doesn't really want to dwell on them.
Half listening, Merlin’s lost in a haze, giggling and whispering to himself, Gwen can feel it, lying with her back to his chest, his legs splayed out either side of hers. They’d tried to make it out of the hall and fallen; her wary, stumbling feet swept out from under her when his grip on her arm had become less helpful and more urgent as he’d tripped, pitching them both forward and down.
(She'd warned him about the punch. Sworn she wouldn't touch it this year...and yet here they were.)
From then on, the wall had simply been the only safe place with the a good view.
Slumped, beside them Arthur's rubbing at his eyes, again; a major casualty of the food war from two hours ago, he’s still recovering. But no matter how much he brushes at himself there's still potato and some kind of… icing.
She reaches over and touches the pink icing on his brow curiously, until some of it collects on her finger. She’s in the process of licking it from her fingertip - it’s strawberry - when she finds the prince’s gaze is locked onto her. She offers him a neighborly smile, and Arthur laughs, his chin tucking down in close to his bare chest.
Her head resting in Gwen’s lap, Morgana stirs and yawns at the sound, all pink tongue and lips, her fingers reaching up to tug some stray parsley from Gwen’s loose curls. She blinks up at Gwen for a moment, look like she's about to speak, but then wordlessly her eyes flutter shut again.
Abruptly, Merlin stops giggling and seems to realise that he’s barefoot.
This is his first birthday celebration; he'll do better next year.
She pulls his arms tighter around her as a draft picks up from the corridor.
(She can vaguely remember her first year when they'd lost Leon in the forest for 2 days.)
It's can be very surprising that anyone actually survives the King's birthday, the celebrations are that legendary.
And maybe they'll never see Merlin's boots(, Arthur's tunic, or her best corset) ever again-- but, Gwen's too exhausted to do anything about it.
Exhaling, she closes her eyes; Merlin's surprisingly comfortable, and she's still warmly impaired enough to ignore that Arthur's staring at her again.
Gaius will more than likely find them before her father does.
(And if not, Gwen and Morgana have a standing agreement: to blame Arthur for any and all banquet debauchery.)
_______
I should be writing my essay. But I will take any and all distractions. Including 2 y.o prompts. I have no discipline...or shame.