Tally [7/?]
Title: Tally [7/?]
Author: somerdaye
Pairings: Arthur/Merlin, some Gwaine/Merlin and Lancelot/Gwen
Rating: PG-13
Summary: When Gwaine Stanford is your only friend, you know it's time to switch things up a little. Old and new and more-thans.
Word Count: 1400+
Note: Happy birthday to shaelynpartl !!!! <3 I was intending to write her an epic oneshot filled with all of the things she loves most (Colin Morgan and zebras, specifically) but then I went to see Sucker Punch and my brain was dead, so, she'll have to deal with this.
Sorry this took so long! School and life, they suck.
---
Gwen says, “Lance is starting dinner now, so you might want to keep out of his way for a bit,” as she forces a smile and bustles off to set the table perfectly.
Arthur says, “Lance goes batshit around knives so your best bet of survival is to stay the fuck out of the kitchen,” as he plops down on the sofa.
Merlin says, “Um, yeah, yeah, I think I’ll - yeah, I’m just gonna stay here,” as he cautiously sits next to Arthur like he’s not nervous about tonight at all, which he isn’t, by the way.
Gwaine says, “Knives? Sweet,” as he ambles into the kitchen, presumably to juggle steak knives with Lance, or dig through drawers in vain hope of finding Arthur’s car keys.
That’s the point when Merlin acknowledges the absolute disaster this dinner promises to provide, and also decides to find as much entertainment in the trainwreck as he can without anybody catching on fire or getting naked.
---
(“Can I see your book?” Arthur asks, looking comfortable even in such obviously expensive clothes - a blazer and button-down for a casual dinner? Merlin suspects this ‘Morgana’ is indirectly responsible for the fashion - and after rummaging through his pockets, Merlin tosses the small book to him, bemused.
Arthur grabs a black pen from the coffee table, marking another tally under his name. He grins at Merlin and says, “From now on, let me record mine, yeah? I can’t trust you not to cock it up.”
Gwaine chooses that moment to yell something at Lance that sounds suspiciously like en guarde, and they decide they should probably go confiscate the really sharp knives before Gwaine throws down the gauntlet. (Or, rather, the oven mitt.)
And if Gwen is giving Merlin a look, he dutifully ignores it in favour of checking if Arthur’s new jeans compliment his arse or not.)
(Conclusion: They do.)
---
Morgana arrives in a flurry of crisp black lines and strong perfume. And hair. Lots of hair. She stands in the kitchen doorway, looking strict and businesslike, for about two seconds. Then, she spots Merlin, and she lets out an undignified yelp and even jumps back like the mere sight of him electrocuted her.
“You?!” she gapes, and quite frankly Merlin is incredibly bewildered - he’s pretty certain he’s never even seen the woman before, let alone left enough of an impression to warrant such a strong reaction.
Arthur seems similarly confused, looking back and forth between them as he says, slowly, “You two... know each other?”
“No,” they chorus, Morgana still looking wary of stepping any farther into the kitchen. Though Merlin admits he might not be the only cause, as Lance and Gwaine, still sulking about getting their knives taken away from them before they could play, have started swordfighting with a whisk and a wooden spoon, respectively.
“I’m... Merlin?” He tries a friendly approach, but rules out a handshake or even stepping closer in case Morgana freaks again. He grins at her in what he hopes is a I-am-nice-and-responsible-and-not-whoever-you’ve-confused-me-for kind of manner.
“Morgana,” she responds coldly, trying to compose herself back into a state of perfectly unruffled. Her cat-like eyes scrutinise him, and he stares back, refusing to back down even as his ears turn a nice shade of red. Eventually, her lips curve into what could possibly be a smile, albeit a mocking one. “Funny, I could have sworn I’ve seen you before. In a dream, maybe?”
Honestly, the phrase means nothing to Merlin. Sure, it’s a little creepy that Morgana’s dreamt about him before even meeting him, but he’s had stranger dreams. (There’s that one he always has after eating too much pizza, the one where he’s a child and hiding from Voldemort in a daycare centre.)
Arthur, however, snaps to attention, stepping towards his stepsister almost involuntarily, his brow furrowed with concern. “Dream? You didn’t -”
“Morgana!” Gwen intervenes from behind the scary woman. Morgana turns and lets out a girlish shriek that makes Merlin’s ears ring and finally alerts the duelling manchildren to her presence.
“Hi, Morgana.” Lance waves the whisk in her general direction. She looks over her shoulder from where she’s crushing Gwen with a hug and smiles again, this time like she means it. Maybe Lance just has that effect on people, Merlin considers.
She extracts herself from Gwen’s arms and faces the men, her expression a perfect mask of warmth. She’s also pretending like Merlin isn’t in the room, but he can deal with that.
Gwaine lets out a low, appreciative whistle as he twirls his makeshift weapon like a baton. “You’ve got some great boobs,” he informs Morgana with what he insists is his gonna-get-laid smirk in place.
One slim, dark eyebrow raises in that aristocratic way that Merlin could never master even after hours of practicing in the bathroom mirror. Then she laughs and says, “Well, aren’t you a living, breathing bad-boy archetype?”
Gwaine looks pleased, like this is a compliment of the highest order. (Which in his warped mind, it might actually be.)
While Gwen putters around, picking dishes of food up and bringing them to the table in the dining room, Morgana slides easily into a knife conversation with Lance and Gwaine, determinedly not meeting Merlin’s gaze. Arthur, however, isn’t contributing much to the conversation - he seems deep in thought, frowning and glancing between Merlin and Morgana every so often.
“Dinner!” Gwen finally announces, sparing an anxious look for Merlin before swiping the plate of chicken from under Gwaine’s quick fingers. She carries it out of the kitchen, Gwaine and Lance following her like cartoon characters would a pie.
Morgana and Arthur have a kind of silent conversation with their eyebrows that involve a lot of waggling and frowning. Merlin would very much like to go sit down before Gwaine inhales the table, but Morgana is blocking his way and he doesn’t think she’s so oblivious to his presence that she wouldn’t mind him crashing into her.
After an angry wiggle of his left eyebrow, Arthur makes an exasperated noise and leaves the room, casting a glance over his shoulder as he goes.
Merlin isn’t freaking out, no sir. Sure, he didn’t expect Arthur’s stepsister to inexplicably hate him, but what could he do? He isn’t about to fall to his knees and beg for forgiveness when he doesn’t know what he did to offend her - well, he’s pretty close to breaking and doing just that, but before he can even open his mouth to spew apologies, she turns to him and - smiles?
Yes, she smiles. A small, almost shy smile, but a smile nonetheless.
“I’ve been dreaming about you for years,” she says suddenly. Her eyes soften as they rake over Merlin’s only slightly terrified form. “You’re... different than I thought you’d be.”
“Good different?” Merlin asks once he finds his voice.
She smiles, this time showing off her perfect teeth, and it strikes Merlin how objectively beautiful she is when she does. Merlin gets the feeling she can see right into his soul, and, after the initial shock of seeing somebody she’d dreamt about for so long, likes what she sees.
“Yes,” Morgana finally says. “You’re... sweet. Your entire aura is just so warm.” She turns to join the others in the next room when a loud crash and a Gwaine! breaks the comfortable silence.
“Thank you,” Merlin says, because he’s not sure what else to say in this sort of situation. ‘I’m glad you’re not yelling at me’? ‘You really do have nice boobs’? ‘Please don’t break my balls’?
Without facing him, she laughs. “I already know you’ll be good to him, Merlin, but hopefully you can give him a good kick in the arse every once in a while, yeah? Trust me when I say he needs it.”
She’s gone before he can ask who and what she’s talking about.
---
Dinner is, of course, a fiasco.
Gwaine makes increasingly offensive passes at Morgana, who grows steadily less amused every time he opens his mouth. Gwen and Lance bicker with Arthur, who turns to Merlin for back-up and just gets a shrug and a you are kind of a prat for his efforts. At one point, somebody - probably Morgana, now that Merlin thinks on it, since she always has that look of perpetual innocence about her - whips a spoonful of mashed sweet potatoes at Arthur’s nice clothes and starts an all-out food war.
And later, when Merlin almost falls off the stepladder trying to get a tomato off of the light fixture and Arthur steadies him with a laugh and a smart-ass comment, Morgana does that teeth-showing smile again, and Merlin wonders what, exactly, she’s seen, and if Arthur’s reactions to hearing about her dreams mean that they will eventually come to pass.
Then Gwaine ‘accidentally’ spills wine all over Morgana’s white blouse and the serious thoughts are gone in an instant as Merlin laughs, leaning slightly into Arthur’s shoulder and revelling in the warmth.
---
chapter eight here
Author: somerdaye
Pairings: Arthur/Merlin, some Gwaine/Merlin and Lancelot/Gwen
Rating: PG-13
Summary: When Gwaine Stanford is your only friend, you know it's time to switch things up a little. Old and new and more-thans.
Word Count: 1400+
Note: Happy birthday to shaelynpartl !!!! <3 I was intending to write her an epic oneshot filled with all of the things she loves most (Colin Morgan and zebras, specifically) but then I went to see Sucker Punch and my brain was dead, so, she'll have to deal with this.
Sorry this took so long! School and life, they suck.
---
Gwen says, “Lance is starting dinner now, so you might want to keep out of his way for a bit,” as she forces a smile and bustles off to set the table perfectly.
Arthur says, “Lance goes batshit around knives so your best bet of survival is to stay the fuck out of the kitchen,” as he plops down on the sofa.
Merlin says, “Um, yeah, yeah, I think I’ll - yeah, I’m just gonna stay here,” as he cautiously sits next to Arthur like he’s not nervous about tonight at all, which he isn’t, by the way.
Gwaine says, “Knives? Sweet,” as he ambles into the kitchen, presumably to juggle steak knives with Lance, or dig through drawers in vain hope of finding Arthur’s car keys.
That’s the point when Merlin acknowledges the absolute disaster this dinner promises to provide, and also decides to find as much entertainment in the trainwreck as he can without anybody catching on fire or getting naked.
---
(“Can I see your book?” Arthur asks, looking comfortable even in such obviously expensive clothes - a blazer and button-down for a casual dinner? Merlin suspects this ‘Morgana’ is indirectly responsible for the fashion - and after rummaging through his pockets, Merlin tosses the small book to him, bemused.
Arthur grabs a black pen from the coffee table, marking another tally under his name. He grins at Merlin and says, “From now on, let me record mine, yeah? I can’t trust you not to cock it up.”
Gwaine chooses that moment to yell something at Lance that sounds suspiciously like en guarde, and they decide they should probably go confiscate the really sharp knives before Gwaine throws down the gauntlet. (Or, rather, the oven mitt.)
And if Gwen is giving Merlin a look, he dutifully ignores it in favour of checking if Arthur’s new jeans compliment his arse or not.)
(Conclusion: They do.)
---
Morgana arrives in a flurry of crisp black lines and strong perfume. And hair. Lots of hair. She stands in the kitchen doorway, looking strict and businesslike, for about two seconds. Then, she spots Merlin, and she lets out an undignified yelp and even jumps back like the mere sight of him electrocuted her.
“You?!” she gapes, and quite frankly Merlin is incredibly bewildered - he’s pretty certain he’s never even seen the woman before, let alone left enough of an impression to warrant such a strong reaction.
Arthur seems similarly confused, looking back and forth between them as he says, slowly, “You two... know each other?”
“No,” they chorus, Morgana still looking wary of stepping any farther into the kitchen. Though Merlin admits he might not be the only cause, as Lance and Gwaine, still sulking about getting their knives taken away from them before they could play, have started swordfighting with a whisk and a wooden spoon, respectively.
“I’m... Merlin?” He tries a friendly approach, but rules out a handshake or even stepping closer in case Morgana freaks again. He grins at her in what he hopes is a I-am-nice-and-responsible-and-not-whoever-you’ve-confused-me-for kind of manner.
“Morgana,” she responds coldly, trying to compose herself back into a state of perfectly unruffled. Her cat-like eyes scrutinise him, and he stares back, refusing to back down even as his ears turn a nice shade of red. Eventually, her lips curve into what could possibly be a smile, albeit a mocking one. “Funny, I could have sworn I’ve seen you before. In a dream, maybe?”
Honestly, the phrase means nothing to Merlin. Sure, it’s a little creepy that Morgana’s dreamt about him before even meeting him, but he’s had stranger dreams. (There’s that one he always has after eating too much pizza, the one where he’s a child and hiding from Voldemort in a daycare centre.)
Arthur, however, snaps to attention, stepping towards his stepsister almost involuntarily, his brow furrowed with concern. “Dream? You didn’t -”
“Morgana!” Gwen intervenes from behind the scary woman. Morgana turns and lets out a girlish shriek that makes Merlin’s ears ring and finally alerts the duelling manchildren to her presence.
“Hi, Morgana.” Lance waves the whisk in her general direction. She looks over her shoulder from where she’s crushing Gwen with a hug and smiles again, this time like she means it. Maybe Lance just has that effect on people, Merlin considers.
She extracts herself from Gwen’s arms and faces the men, her expression a perfect mask of warmth. She’s also pretending like Merlin isn’t in the room, but he can deal with that.
Gwaine lets out a low, appreciative whistle as he twirls his makeshift weapon like a baton. “You’ve got some great boobs,” he informs Morgana with what he insists is his gonna-get-laid smirk in place.
One slim, dark eyebrow raises in that aristocratic way that Merlin could never master even after hours of practicing in the bathroom mirror. Then she laughs and says, “Well, aren’t you a living, breathing bad-boy archetype?”
Gwaine looks pleased, like this is a compliment of the highest order. (Which in his warped mind, it might actually be.)
While Gwen putters around, picking dishes of food up and bringing them to the table in the dining room, Morgana slides easily into a knife conversation with Lance and Gwaine, determinedly not meeting Merlin’s gaze. Arthur, however, isn’t contributing much to the conversation - he seems deep in thought, frowning and glancing between Merlin and Morgana every so often.
“Dinner!” Gwen finally announces, sparing an anxious look for Merlin before swiping the plate of chicken from under Gwaine’s quick fingers. She carries it out of the kitchen, Gwaine and Lance following her like cartoon characters would a pie.
Morgana and Arthur have a kind of silent conversation with their eyebrows that involve a lot of waggling and frowning. Merlin would very much like to go sit down before Gwaine inhales the table, but Morgana is blocking his way and he doesn’t think she’s so oblivious to his presence that she wouldn’t mind him crashing into her.
After an angry wiggle of his left eyebrow, Arthur makes an exasperated noise and leaves the room, casting a glance over his shoulder as he goes.
Merlin isn’t freaking out, no sir. Sure, he didn’t expect Arthur’s stepsister to inexplicably hate him, but what could he do? He isn’t about to fall to his knees and beg for forgiveness when he doesn’t know what he did to offend her - well, he’s pretty close to breaking and doing just that, but before he can even open his mouth to spew apologies, she turns to him and - smiles?
Yes, she smiles. A small, almost shy smile, but a smile nonetheless.
“I’ve been dreaming about you for years,” she says suddenly. Her eyes soften as they rake over Merlin’s only slightly terrified form. “You’re... different than I thought you’d be.”
“Good different?” Merlin asks once he finds his voice.
She smiles, this time showing off her perfect teeth, and it strikes Merlin how objectively beautiful she is when she does. Merlin gets the feeling she can see right into his soul, and, after the initial shock of seeing somebody she’d dreamt about for so long, likes what she sees.
“Yes,” Morgana finally says. “You’re... sweet. Your entire aura is just so warm.” She turns to join the others in the next room when a loud crash and a Gwaine! breaks the comfortable silence.
“Thank you,” Merlin says, because he’s not sure what else to say in this sort of situation. ‘I’m glad you’re not yelling at me’? ‘You really do have nice boobs’? ‘Please don’t break my balls’?
Without facing him, she laughs. “I already know you’ll be good to him, Merlin, but hopefully you can give him a good kick in the arse every once in a while, yeah? Trust me when I say he needs it.”
She’s gone before he can ask who and what she’s talking about.
---
Dinner is, of course, a fiasco.
Gwaine makes increasingly offensive passes at Morgana, who grows steadily less amused every time he opens his mouth. Gwen and Lance bicker with Arthur, who turns to Merlin for back-up and just gets a shrug and a you are kind of a prat for his efforts. At one point, somebody - probably Morgana, now that Merlin thinks on it, since she always has that look of perpetual innocence about her - whips a spoonful of mashed sweet potatoes at Arthur’s nice clothes and starts an all-out food war.
And later, when Merlin almost falls off the stepladder trying to get a tomato off of the light fixture and Arthur steadies him with a laugh and a smart-ass comment, Morgana does that teeth-showing smile again, and Merlin wonders what, exactly, she’s seen, and if Arthur’s reactions to hearing about her dreams mean that they will eventually come to pass.
Then Gwaine ‘accidentally’ spills wine all over Morgana’s white blouse and the serious thoughts are gone in an instant as Merlin laughs, leaning slightly into Arthur’s shoulder and revelling in the warmth.
---
chapter eight here