Fic: Merlin: Codes (Arthur/Gwen/Merlin)
Sep. 27th, 2009 10:05 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
rosie_ruesEpisode 2x02 coda, originally posted over here at Camelot Fleet Packed full of spoilers for all of the new series so far, of course. Disclaimer: this particular retelling of the legends belongs to the BBC. Rating: PG-13 fluff, about 2000 words.
Arthur's head is still spinning with thoughts of Gwen - Guinevere, who's always just been there, quiet and steadfast and respectful, and who is now suddenly so much more. He'd be happily sinking into contemplation of her smile and her breasts (and why has he never noticed those before?) and her quiet integrity, if it wasn't for Merlin.
Merlin has turned moping into an art form. His gloom fills the entire room like smoke or a particularly noxious fart, and it dampens any pleasure Arthur has in his new awareness of Gwen. Merlin is so blazingly unhappy that it actually makes the room seem colder, which would be useful in high summer but is a mere nuisance right now.
"What is wrong with you?" Arthur demands, watching Merlin polish his armour as if he's facing Gaius' leech tank for the second time in a month.
"Nothing," Merlin drones, and then adds glumly, "Sire."
"No, really," Arthur asks. "Are you sickening for something, because if you are, I'd rather not be exposed to it."
"I'm fine."
For somebody who usually yaps about his life like an overfed lapdog, Merlin can be strangely uncommunicative at times. Luckily, there are some surefire ways to jerk him out of this sort of brooding.
"My kennels need mucking out, the chamber pot is full and Cafal was sick on my boots," Arthur says confidently. What should happen now is that Merlin will come up with some completely inappropriate retort and Arthur will either assign him some even more menial duty, call him names, or, if morale is down in the lower city, send him to the stocks.
Instead, Merlin just sighs and says, "Yes, sire."
Huh.
#
The next morning, he runs into Gwen. For a few moments, they try to sidestep each other awkwardly. Arthur finds himself blushing. Right now, knowing how his father would react to any liasion, he should be following the chivalric code and worshipping her from afar. Instead, he's dwelling on how soft her lips were, and how very much he wants to kiss her again.
Then he remembers that she's Merlin's friend too and they do have something safe to talk about.
"I don't know," she says, when he asks, eyes worried. "He won't tell me what's wrong."
"Do what you can to find out," he says, and it's not really an order because he's a little scared of issuing commands to her now.
"I'll try," she says, and curtseys, her eyes locked on his. "My lord."
He lets her go, watching as she walks away.
That's when he remembers that Merlin was willing to die for her, and gets a sudden inkling of what's wrong. There's a good chance that Merlin is in love with her. And, of course, Merlin is his friend, despite being his servant. Merlin's jealous, and that makes him feel worse. He's a knight, and there are codes that govern all his actions, and one of those codes forbids him from poaching his friend's girl, even if there's a chance she's interested.
For a moment, Arthur imagines Merlin and Gwen together, their lips clinging and their bodies entwined, and he has to stop and lean against the wall to catch his breath.
This is all getting a little out of control.
#
By that evening, Arthur can sense Merlin's misery several corridors away. Every step he takes seems to be imbued with a sense of grievance, of being utterly unappreciated, and he's tiptoeing by the time he gets back to his chambers.
Merlin's sitting on the floor, scrubbing dog puke off Arthur's oldest boots. Arthur takes a moment to marvel that he's actually doing this, before he clears his throat and says, "You are an complete and utter imbecile."
Merlin jumps and looks up, eyes wide. How he could possibly have missed the noise of the door and Arthur's footsteps is baffling, but not really surprising.
"Sire?" he says warily, as if he thinks Arthur is about to fire him in favour of a petty criminal again (and, well, he may have reason to fear that and it was rather embarrassing when the city guard recognised Cedric's body, but really, these things are all in the past now and should be forgotten).
"This is about Guinevere, isn't it?" Arthur says. "You're jealous!"
"What?" Merlin yelps, dropping the boots. "I? Gwen? No!"
"You are!" Arthur crows. "You are completely and utterly jealous!"
"I am not jealous of Gwen!" Merlin insists, blush blazing on his cheekbones.
Arthur stares at him, taken aback. Then he begins to smirk, triumphant. Here's the mystery solved. "I was referring to your idiotic jealousy of me, actually, Merlin."
Merlin blanches and begins to babble, waving the filthy boot for emphasis. "What jealousy? I'm not jealous of anyone or anything. Jealous, no, no, no, not me. I mean, if I was jealous that would imply that I was attracted to, er, someone. And I'm not, really, really not, attached to either - er, anyone. Oh, god."
And then he bolts, still clutching the boot. Arthur would have lunged to stop him but he's laughing too hard to move, clinging to the bedpost for support. This is utterly priceless, not least because of Merlin's stupid, frantic face and the way he trips over the rug as he runs for the door, and bloody hell, Merlin's in love with him.
#
of course, once he's stopped laughing, he realises that the original problem hasn't gone away. The fact that Merlin fancies him is both brilliant and hilarious, but Merlin also seems to fancy Gwen, which makes it all awkward again.
He needs to talk to someone sensible, but discreet inquiries tell him that Morgana has demanded Gwen's services all evening. There's no way he's going to Morgana with this - she still threatens to cut off his balls several times a week, and now Uther's banned her from the armoury she'd probably use sewing scissors, so no. Just no. Not ever.
Disheartened, he retreats back to his rooms. Lying there in the warm comfort of his own bed, he considers the matter. It's Gwen he wants, of course, with her curling hair and honey-brown breasts and flawless honour, but Merlin keeps intruding, in that Merlin-ish way of his, gawky angles and pale skin and reckless loyalty, and by the time he's rutting against his hand, he's switching between two images in his head, not sure which of them excites him more.
#
Come morning, he does manage to find Gwen, in a deserted corner of the palace. He suspects that he's stumbled into the middle of one of Morgana's intrigues, but that isn't the most urgent thing, so he draws her into an alcove.
"Guinevere," he says, and forgets what he was planning to say when she looks up at him, clearly nervous. He kisses her, lips brushing lightly over hers. He doesn't want to stop, especially when she gasps and leans a little into the kiss.
But he can't have her, not without dishonouring her, so he does the honourable thing and steps back. He feels a twinge of pure envy, because Merlin could have this, if he dared. No one would comment if two servants became paramours. Arthur should just leave them to each other. He cares for them both, after all. Surely he should be able to take pleasure from their joy in each other.
But he can't do it. He can't let go, so he says abruptly, "Merlin's in love with both of us."
"Oh!" Gwen says, covering her mouth.
"I'm sorry," Arthur says, realising it was the wrong thing at the wrong moment. "I didn't mean to shock you."
Then she makes a suggestion that leaves him speechless and blushing.
#
He knows by now that when Merlin is being stupid about something he times his chores for the hours when Arthur is usually out training his knights. Arthur knows that if he comes back to find his chambers tended and no Merlin in sight, it's time to bludgeon some sense into his manservant.
So today he's lying in wait when Merlin arrives.
Merlin gets several strides into the room before he notices Gwen sitting by the fire and Arthur sprawled across the bed. He freezes, and then begins to back away, saying, "I'm sorry. I'll just-"
"Stay," Arthur growls.
Gwen darts to her feet, fingers knotting in her skirt and says, "Please. We need to talk to you."
"You don't have to say anything," Merlin says and he sounds so tired that Arthur's throat closes in sympathy. He still can't quite tell what Merlin wants, or if this will even be enough.
Gwen laughs nervously and says, "Okay, then." Then, before Merlin can back himself right into the hall, she crosses the room and grabs him by the shirt, pulling herself up to press her mouth against his.
For a moment, Merlin is as frozen and awkward as a scarecrow. Then he sinks into her kiss, clinging to her so desperately that Arthur can't help wondering if he's ever been kissed before and that's an idea that makes his breath come fast. They're as beautiful together as his fantasies suggested and he hopes desperately that this will work, that they can be lovers and no one will realise that the prince also comes to their bed.
Then Merlin pulls away. There's a red flush burning over his cheekbones and he's breathless when he says, "Gwen. We - we can't. Not in front of Arthur!"
Gwen smiles and leans in to kiss his cheek. "We can," she says, and pulls him back across the room. He still looks confused, and Arthur gives him a smile that he'd always deny was fond. Idiot. Completely hopeless.
When they reached the end of the bed, Merlin balks, whispering, "Gwen!"
Gwen sighs, exchanging a look with Arthur and gives Merlin a little push. He topples forward, arms wheeling, and Arthur reels him in by his scarf, dragging him down.
"But?" Merlin protests into Arthur's mouth. "Wait! Oh! Oh!"
Arthur stops kissing him long enough to say, "You really are stupid, aren't you, Merlin?" Then he pulls him down again, and Merlin's mouth is hungry against his, his body pressing close and eager. Kissing Merlin is nothing like kissing Gwen - he feels like there's something running under his skin, tingling like static, and he's clumsy and desperate and noisy, where she is warm and quiet and yearning.
When Arthur feels Gwen's steady fingers slide between them, he breaks the kiss long enough to let her pull Merlin up and strip them all, scarf and shirts and blue dress cascading to the floor together. Then they all sink back to the bed, limbs tangling and hands roaming as they exchange ever more daring kisses.
#
Later, lying with one hand cupped around Gwen's bare breast and the other in Merlin's hair, Arthur says, "We are never telling Morgana about this."
Gwen gives a little disappointed sigh, and Merlin says, "Why not?"
"Why not?" Arthur echoes in horror. "You have to ask?"
Merlin props himself up on one elbow. His hair is sticking up and his lips are swollen, but he still manages to pout and say earnestly, "You have looked at her recently, haven't you?"
"That's irrelevant," Arthur says, trying to bury a sudden mental image.
"Oh, come on," Merlin says. "You know she'd be amazing."
"Oh, she is," Gwen murmurs dreamily, and then gasps as they both stared at her. "I mean, that is, not that - oh, damn."
Arthur looks between their hopeful faces and flops back against his pillows with a groan. "Fine," he says, "but I'm not going to be the one to ask her."
This fandom is such fun ^_^
Arthur's head is still spinning with thoughts of Gwen - Guinevere, who's always just been there, quiet and steadfast and respectful, and who is now suddenly so much more. He'd be happily sinking into contemplation of her smile and her breasts (and why has he never noticed those before?) and her quiet integrity, if it wasn't for Merlin.
Merlin has turned moping into an art form. His gloom fills the entire room like smoke or a particularly noxious fart, and it dampens any pleasure Arthur has in his new awareness of Gwen. Merlin is so blazingly unhappy that it actually makes the room seem colder, which would be useful in high summer but is a mere nuisance right now.
"What is wrong with you?" Arthur demands, watching Merlin polish his armour as if he's facing Gaius' leech tank for the second time in a month.
"Nothing," Merlin drones, and then adds glumly, "Sire."
"No, really," Arthur asks. "Are you sickening for something, because if you are, I'd rather not be exposed to it."
"I'm fine."
For somebody who usually yaps about his life like an overfed lapdog, Merlin can be strangely uncommunicative at times. Luckily, there are some surefire ways to jerk him out of this sort of brooding.
"My kennels need mucking out, the chamber pot is full and Cafal was sick on my boots," Arthur says confidently. What should happen now is that Merlin will come up with some completely inappropriate retort and Arthur will either assign him some even more menial duty, call him names, or, if morale is down in the lower city, send him to the stocks.
Instead, Merlin just sighs and says, "Yes, sire."
Huh.
The next morning, he runs into Gwen. For a few moments, they try to sidestep each other awkwardly. Arthur finds himself blushing. Right now, knowing how his father would react to any liasion, he should be following the chivalric code and worshipping her from afar. Instead, he's dwelling on how soft her lips were, and how very much he wants to kiss her again.
Then he remembers that she's Merlin's friend too and they do have something safe to talk about.
"I don't know," she says, when he asks, eyes worried. "He won't tell me what's wrong."
"Do what you can to find out," he says, and it's not really an order because he's a little scared of issuing commands to her now.
"I'll try," she says, and curtseys, her eyes locked on his. "My lord."
He lets her go, watching as she walks away.
That's when he remembers that Merlin was willing to die for her, and gets a sudden inkling of what's wrong. There's a good chance that Merlin is in love with her. And, of course, Merlin is his friend, despite being his servant. Merlin's jealous, and that makes him feel worse. He's a knight, and there are codes that govern all his actions, and one of those codes forbids him from poaching his friend's girl, even if there's a chance she's interested.
For a moment, Arthur imagines Merlin and Gwen together, their lips clinging and their bodies entwined, and he has to stop and lean against the wall to catch his breath.
This is all getting a little out of control.
By that evening, Arthur can sense Merlin's misery several corridors away. Every step he takes seems to be imbued with a sense of grievance, of being utterly unappreciated, and he's tiptoeing by the time he gets back to his chambers.
Merlin's sitting on the floor, scrubbing dog puke off Arthur's oldest boots. Arthur takes a moment to marvel that he's actually doing this, before he clears his throat and says, "You are an complete and utter imbecile."
Merlin jumps and looks up, eyes wide. How he could possibly have missed the noise of the door and Arthur's footsteps is baffling, but not really surprising.
"Sire?" he says warily, as if he thinks Arthur is about to fire him in favour of a petty criminal again (and, well, he may have reason to fear that and it was rather embarrassing when the city guard recognised Cedric's body, but really, these things are all in the past now and should be forgotten).
"This is about Guinevere, isn't it?" Arthur says. "You're jealous!"
"What?" Merlin yelps, dropping the boots. "I? Gwen? No!"
"You are!" Arthur crows. "You are completely and utterly jealous!"
"I am not jealous of Gwen!" Merlin insists, blush blazing on his cheekbones.
Arthur stares at him, taken aback. Then he begins to smirk, triumphant. Here's the mystery solved. "I was referring to your idiotic jealousy of me, actually, Merlin."
Merlin blanches and begins to babble, waving the filthy boot for emphasis. "What jealousy? I'm not jealous of anyone or anything. Jealous, no, no, no, not me. I mean, if I was jealous that would imply that I was attracted to, er, someone. And I'm not, really, really not, attached to either - er, anyone. Oh, god."
And then he bolts, still clutching the boot. Arthur would have lunged to stop him but he's laughing too hard to move, clinging to the bedpost for support. This is utterly priceless, not least because of Merlin's stupid, frantic face and the way he trips over the rug as he runs for the door, and bloody hell, Merlin's in love with him.
of course, once he's stopped laughing, he realises that the original problem hasn't gone away. The fact that Merlin fancies him is both brilliant and hilarious, but Merlin also seems to fancy Gwen, which makes it all awkward again.
He needs to talk to someone sensible, but discreet inquiries tell him that Morgana has demanded Gwen's services all evening. There's no way he's going to Morgana with this - she still threatens to cut off his balls several times a week, and now Uther's banned her from the armoury she'd probably use sewing scissors, so no. Just no. Not ever.
Disheartened, he retreats back to his rooms. Lying there in the warm comfort of his own bed, he considers the matter. It's Gwen he wants, of course, with her curling hair and honey-brown breasts and flawless honour, but Merlin keeps intruding, in that Merlin-ish way of his, gawky angles and pale skin and reckless loyalty, and by the time he's rutting against his hand, he's switching between two images in his head, not sure which of them excites him more.
Come morning, he does manage to find Gwen, in a deserted corner of the palace. He suspects that he's stumbled into the middle of one of Morgana's intrigues, but that isn't the most urgent thing, so he draws her into an alcove.
"Guinevere," he says, and forgets what he was planning to say when she looks up at him, clearly nervous. He kisses her, lips brushing lightly over hers. He doesn't want to stop, especially when she gasps and leans a little into the kiss.
But he can't have her, not without dishonouring her, so he does the honourable thing and steps back. He feels a twinge of pure envy, because Merlin could have this, if he dared. No one would comment if two servants became paramours. Arthur should just leave them to each other. He cares for them both, after all. Surely he should be able to take pleasure from their joy in each other.
But he can't do it. He can't let go, so he says abruptly, "Merlin's in love with both of us."
"Oh!" Gwen says, covering her mouth.
"I'm sorry," Arthur says, realising it was the wrong thing at the wrong moment. "I didn't mean to shock you."
Then she makes a suggestion that leaves him speechless and blushing.
He knows by now that when Merlin is being stupid about something he times his chores for the hours when Arthur is usually out training his knights. Arthur knows that if he comes back to find his chambers tended and no Merlin in sight, it's time to bludgeon some sense into his manservant.
So today he's lying in wait when Merlin arrives.
Merlin gets several strides into the room before he notices Gwen sitting by the fire and Arthur sprawled across the bed. He freezes, and then begins to back away, saying, "I'm sorry. I'll just-"
"Stay," Arthur growls.
Gwen darts to her feet, fingers knotting in her skirt and says, "Please. We need to talk to you."
"You don't have to say anything," Merlin says and he sounds so tired that Arthur's throat closes in sympathy. He still can't quite tell what Merlin wants, or if this will even be enough.
Gwen laughs nervously and says, "Okay, then." Then, before Merlin can back himself right into the hall, she crosses the room and grabs him by the shirt, pulling herself up to press her mouth against his.
For a moment, Merlin is as frozen and awkward as a scarecrow. Then he sinks into her kiss, clinging to her so desperately that Arthur can't help wondering if he's ever been kissed before and that's an idea that makes his breath come fast. They're as beautiful together as his fantasies suggested and he hopes desperately that this will work, that they can be lovers and no one will realise that the prince also comes to their bed.
Then Merlin pulls away. There's a red flush burning over his cheekbones and he's breathless when he says, "Gwen. We - we can't. Not in front of Arthur!"
Gwen smiles and leans in to kiss his cheek. "We can," she says, and pulls him back across the room. He still looks confused, and Arthur gives him a smile that he'd always deny was fond. Idiot. Completely hopeless.
When they reached the end of the bed, Merlin balks, whispering, "Gwen!"
Gwen sighs, exchanging a look with Arthur and gives Merlin a little push. He topples forward, arms wheeling, and Arthur reels him in by his scarf, dragging him down.
"But?" Merlin protests into Arthur's mouth. "Wait! Oh! Oh!"
Arthur stops kissing him long enough to say, "You really are stupid, aren't you, Merlin?" Then he pulls him down again, and Merlin's mouth is hungry against his, his body pressing close and eager. Kissing Merlin is nothing like kissing Gwen - he feels like there's something running under his skin, tingling like static, and he's clumsy and desperate and noisy, where she is warm and quiet and yearning.
When Arthur feels Gwen's steady fingers slide between them, he breaks the kiss long enough to let her pull Merlin up and strip them all, scarf and shirts and blue dress cascading to the floor together. Then they all sink back to the bed, limbs tangling and hands roaming as they exchange ever more daring kisses.
Later, lying with one hand cupped around Gwen's bare breast and the other in Merlin's hair, Arthur says, "We are never telling Morgana about this."
Gwen gives a little disappointed sigh, and Merlin says, "Why not?"
"Why not?" Arthur echoes in horror. "You have to ask?"
Merlin props himself up on one elbow. His hair is sticking up and his lips are swollen, but he still manages to pout and say earnestly, "You have looked at her recently, haven't you?"
"That's irrelevant," Arthur says, trying to bury a sudden mental image.
"Oh, come on," Merlin says. "You know she'd be amazing."
"Oh, she is," Gwen murmurs dreamily, and then gasps as they both stared at her. "I mean, that is, not that - oh, damn."
Arthur looks between their hopeful faces and flops back against his pillows with a groan. "Fine," he says, "but I'm not going to be the one to ask her."
This fandom is such fun ^_^