Fic: Servants can play too - Part 3
Title: Servants can play too Part 3/? I'm thinking this has at least 2 more parts. I know, I don't like that any better then you do.
Author: mustbethursday3
Rating: PG/14 (although it's probably G)
Characters/Pairings: Arthur/Gwen, Gwen/Merlin sort of.
Words: 4026+
Disclaimer: Merlin belongs to the BBC.
Summary: Prompt was: F-58. Merlin and Gwen need to play bf/gf OR hubby/wife for some reason, and they're "pretending" so well that it's driving Arthur mental.
Author’s notes: This is for camelot_love's '14 Days of Arthur & Guinevere'. This is what happens when my story and I disagree on the tone - it's a little cracky, a little crappy, a little random - but you can make up your own mind :D
This update would be longer, except that I got caught in the whirlwind of Drabble-land - reading and writing - and so I haven't really been focused on this much. Hence 'part 3 of ?' I can't help but wonder why this is so darn long! *pouts* unfortunately I could probably keep going for another 4 parts. BUT THAT'S NOT HAPPENING. Okay. Because I don't like feeling like I'm in limbo.
_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _
As they walk down into the village Gwen rolls up the long sleeves of Merlin’s jacket, so that she can actually see her hands. She feels like she’s playing dress ups.
Beside her Merlin yawns every dozen or so steps - mumbling about girls and friends and favors - shooting her little looks every now and then. Though he’s speaking too low for her to hear, she knows it’s not favorable.
Gwen shivers as the cool night air nips at her exposed cheeks and hands. “I don’t want to go,” she says, suddenly, breaking the silence, as she tucks her hands into her jacket pockets. “How do I get convinced to do these things?”
Merlin looks at her through narrowed eyes, before smiling derisively, “As I’ve said before you’re too nice. You need to learn to say ‘no’. I can teach you.”
“Because it works so well for you.”
Merlin glares.
Gwen eyes the sky, watching the fading light change the colour of it, “I’m not that nice. Not really. When someone needs help it’s instinctive to help them. It’s normal,” she responds, bumping his shoulder pointedly. “You do it.”
“No,” Merlin shakes his head. “I don’t agree to anything just because I have some stupid sense of-”
“You’re doing it right now,” Gwen contests, turning to look at him. “Why else are we both out here?”
Merlin stifles a yawn as he wraps an arm around her shoulders, “Because as usual somewhere someone needs us to do whatever this is for some reason that we’ll understand better after the fact,” he explains and looks down at her appraisingly. “Understand?”
“You’re so concise and clear, Merlin, how could anyone not,” Gwen reasons.
“I know,” Merlin says sagely. “It comes with age.”
Gwen muffles her snort. “You’re two weeks older then me.”
"And taller, height is important for great thought."
Gwen eyes him, he knows she's sensitive about her height. "We do seem to think quite differently on things," she agrees, after a pause.
“And what a difference.”
She licks her lip, “Oh, there’s a difference alright. One I'm actually quite glad of.”
Merlin squeezes her closer to his side, smiling tightly, “Careful, there are no witnesses and you’ve already deprived me of sleep-”
“It’s not even six-” Gwen starts to protest.
“And now you’re insulting my time keeping skills,” Merlin continues dangerously. "Perhaps, I had meant to go to bed early."
Gwen gives him a long look before removing her hands from her pockets and wrapping her small arms around his waist, hugging him, and placing her head against his chest, “Consider me fearful and obedient.”
Merlin chuckles. “I could be scary.”
She grimaces, pulling back so it’s easier to walk, “Hmm, I hear you hide under people’s beds,” she remarks lightly. “Lying in wait.”
“One time!”
His voice echoes and Gwen shushes him, “Well, it made an impression. Do you know he checks now?”
_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _
Arthur blinks at the sudden movement, as people start to get up from the long table and leave. His head feels heavier then usual and there’s this crick in his neck from bending over all these stupid documents.
“Well, that was productive,” his father says once everyone’s left and Arthur tries to see if he’s being sarcastic. But he looks serious.
“Oh, yes,” Arthur nods, dragging himself up from his chair. “That . . . that was just- It really meant a lot to me to be involved in something so-”
“Arthur,” Uther says, raising an eyebrow. “You fell asleep twice.”
Arthur shakes his head, trying to appear bemused, while trying to clear his head. “I was just resting my eyes. Though it may have appeared-”
“Son, I was born at night but not last night.” Uther grins at his son as he rises from his chair, “And you snore.”
Arthur flushes slightly, but still manages a smirk as he slings an arm around the back of his chair. “So, I hear,” he sighs. “But father I really meant no disresp-”
“And when you started muttering things I- for goodness sake Arthur, I thought several of the counsel were going to burn holes straight through your head with the way they-” Uther cuts himself off with a chuckle and Arthur frowns at the unfamiliar sound coming from his father. “If I’d known you were so divest of sleep I would have just let you go,” his father adds, sobering up.
“It won’t happen again,” Arthur assures him, seriously and Uther's mirth disappears.
In a few quick steps he rounds the table and claps his son on the shoulder, “Arthur,” he reprimands. “I understand how difficult the last few months have been on you - on Camelot - I don’t expect perfection and I don’t want you exhausting yourself trying to prove yourself to me.”
“But-”
“But, Camelot needs you at full strength. Go,” Uther shoos. “Go, sleep and we’ll talk about the developments of this meeting tomorrow.”
Arthur can’t help looking at him wearily, “The whole thing?”
Uther rolls his eyes, “A summary, Arthur. I don’t think I could do proper justice to a reenactment of the last few hours.”
Arthur winces, “That bad?”
Uther starts walking towards the doors, “I don’t think there are words suitable for it’s description,” he sighs and Arthur follows after him.
“You’re staying awake for the next one, I hope?” the King tosses over his shoulder. “I believe Fredrick is very eager to hear your proposal on seasonal budgeting and taxation stipulations.”
Arthur stops, but his father keeps going. “Next one?” he calls out, trying not to sound as despairing as he feels. “What? Did you all take a vote while I was resting my eyes?!”
Uther doesn’t turn, his grin unseen by his son as he continues down the corridor.
“Time waits for no man, Arthur.”
_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _
Gwen peers up at Merlin her expression becoming serious, “Do you really want to go?”
Merlin rolls his eyes, “Keep asking me and I’ll say no. We’re halfway there, no point turning back now.”
“Halfway?” Gwen says, as they wander down another dark street.
Merlin glances around, “Well . . .”
Gwen chuckles. “We’re lost. You’ve lost us,” she adds cheerfully.
“We are not lost.”
“Well, where are we?”
He glares before replying huffily, “Camelot. A street in Camelot.”
Gwen giggles and stops to look up at him, amused at his expression. “You’re grumpy when you’re tired,” she remarks before glancing around them.
“I seem to remember that being your fault.”
“My fault? Arthur volunteered you.”
Merlin raises an eyebrow, “but he’s not the reason I’m going to all the trouble.”
Gwen smiles at him fondly, a few free curls catching in the slight breeze. “And that’s why you’re one of my favorite people in the whole world,” she murmurs before looking down a nearby street. “And you were close, we’re only a block from the tavern, we need to go that way,” she points.
Merlin makes an exaggerated motion in the air, “Well, panic over, by all means lead the way.”
“Okay then,” Gwen smirks and starts off down the street. She nods to herself, “I have a really good feeling about this. The play I mean.”
Falling into step beside her Merlin groans. “My god . . . you’re delirious.” he reaches to feel her forehead. “I can’t even keep up with your mood swings.”
She bats his hand away, “Merlin.”
Merlin drops the hand, but adopts a grave expression. “They’ll have to cancel the play, there’s no way you can perform in this state.”
“Don’t even joke about it,” Gwen warns, as they come within eyesight of the tavern, light shining from within, looking warm and inviting. “I don’t think Grace could take another set back.”
“Says the girl who wanted to turn back only a moment ago,” Merlin mutters. “Why do girls always change their minds? What’s wrong with you?”
“I said I didn’t want to go, not that I wouldn’t,” she corrects, hurrying the last few steps to their destination, eager to get out of the cold. “There’s a difference.”
“Semantics,” Merlin scoffs and reaches out to open the door, letting Gwen go in ahead of him.
“Wait, what do you mean ‘one of' ?” he inquires, frowning as he follows her into the Horse Shoe and they both get swallowed up by the noise and people.
_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _
Candles are mounted on every surface; tables, shelves, windows and tall candelabras, that Gwen hadn’t noticed that morning, adorn every dark corner, shining brightly onto the heads of the men gathered around tables, as they walk to the bar, laugh in the booths, all in a happy drunken stupor.
She notices Grace waving at her through the crowd from behind the bar, gesturing to the tall staircase coiling up to the second story on the far side of the bar as Merlin takes her hand.
“I think you were right the first time, we should go home,” he yells into her ear, over the noise. “We stand out like sore thumbs.”
Gwen turns to grin at him as she starts pulling him through the crowd, “Live a little, Merlin. I think being around other people will do you good,” she chides, setting a course for the staircase, where she can see Grace is already waiting. “Looks like everybody started early tonight.”
They’re about halfway across the room - due mostly to Gwen’s deft ability to weave through the crowd of patrons - when Merlin bumps into a man carrying a goblet of mead back to his table, sending it sloshing over the man’s front.
Recognizing the danger of being in a large crowded place filled with drunken men, Gwen steps towards him before he can react, putting herself between him and Merlin with a sorry smile, “Oh, my goodness, sir I’m so sorry. I’m afraid Merlin gets terribly clumsy at even the waft of mead in the air. You’re the Milliner’s eldest aren’t you?” she says, smoothly. Ignoring Merlin’s grunt at her summary of his behavior around alcohol.
Jonas Mills looks down at the warm brown eyes fixed on him, her small full lips curved into a soft smile as she awaits his answer and finds himself unable to feel bad at the loss of his drink. He holds out his free hand, “Jonas,” he says, allowing a grin. “And you are?”
“Gwen,” she replies, taking his hand and shaking it without the hesitation most women had at such an offer. “It’s a pleasure to meet you. I thought your mother had said you were seeking your fortune on the sea?”
Jonas laughs, “Oh, those foolish dreams lasted all of a year. I’m afraid I am unsuited to the rise and dip of the sea, it violently disagreed with my stomach.”
“Oh,” Gwen laughs. “How terribly disappointing.”
“Well,” He makes a noncommittal noise. “I’ve found work at the farms and that suits me well enough and,” he takes her hand again, “I got to make your acquaintance, Gwen.” He kisses the back of her hand.
Behind Gwen Merlin makes a face, “We have to get going, actually,” he interrupts. “Don’t we Gwen?”
Gwen nods, gently pulling her hand free, “Yes, we do, but your drink-”
Jonas shakes his head, “It’s fine. I should have known to watch out for clumsy boys.”
Gwen laughs, before dipping her head, “Very kind of you. Now, if you’ll excuse us?” She takes Merlin’s hand again and pulls him around Jonas, heading again to the staircase and Grace.
“I’ll see you around?” Jonas calls after her.
Gwen glances over her shoulder with a smile, before looking ahead again.
“Clumsy boys,” Merlin hisses and Gwen laughs.
“That’s the impression you give a lot of people, and it’s your own fault.”
“And what was that?”
Gwen shakes her head, “That was me saving you from being accosted by a man a good head taller then you.”
Merlin scoffs. “That was flirting. I wonder what a certain person whose name starts with ‘A’ would have to say about that little display.”
A few steps from the bottom of the staircase Gwen turns to him, “Merlin, you’re not going to get any denials or pleas from me. Tell him whatever you want.”
Merlin scowls, “Because I’m the one who’ll have to deal with his bad mood.”
“Probably,” Gwen smirks. “Although, it was all very harmless, I can’t really see what there is to make a fuss over.”
“You’ve become devious,” Merlin murmurs aghast, as they arrive in front of a harried looking Grace. “And I don’t like it.”
“I expect it’s the consequence of the company I keep,” Gwen says, raising a brow.
_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _
Arthur picks over his dinner with disinterest. It’s chicken and in a very strange way it seems to be depressing him.
As it turns out being excused from sitting down to eat with his father isn’t as great as he’d imagined. In fact if anything - it’s lonely, just sitting in his cavernous chamber waiting.
And he doesn’t even know what he’s waiting for.
Gwen and Merlin will be down at the tavern already, rehearsing. And it’s not like they’ll come back to his chambers to see how he’s going. To see if he needs anything. Company for example, since they left him in the lurch and everything.
And apparently it takes three different servants to do Merlin’s job. There are three different servants he’s seen puttering around. Three. What do there need to be three for? Merlin manages, sometimes, usually, without too much complaining. And none of them want to chat.
He tried, failing spectacularly to learn their names or find out something about them.
The last girl, returning with his laundry, had practically fled when he’d mentioned a book he was reading.
Evidently, Gwen and Merlin are somewhat of an abnormality - just as he’d always suspected. It wasn’t that he’d been too arrogant to interact more with the servants, it had been that they hadn’t been the right ones. So, not his fault at all.
He expects that they’ll tell him all about their little play tomorrow. Bore him probably. If they even remember him . . . They’re probably really busy.
Too busy for him anyway.
_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _
Grace leads them up the stairs to a large room, where the rehearsal is to take place; it’s about two-thirds the size of the tavern floor below. For a big room it feels intimate, with rich wood paneling reaching up from the floor to meet the forest colour above, the dark wood decorated with carved wooden vines running the length of the room. At the sides and in the middle are a large assortment of chairs and at the far end a large wooden stage, with stairs leading up to it on either side. As soon as they step over the threshold the sounds below quiet, leaving only the muted sounds of merriment below their feet. Dotted around the room are a dozen or more people, obviously waiting to begin.
“Right!” Grace calls, clapping her hands to get the attention of the room and it’s various occupants. “Lets get started shall we?” She gestures to Gwen and Merlin as they walk hesitantly towards the middle of the room. “These are our new leads, Gwen and Merlin, Audrey and Daniel are out - big disaster, I don’t want to discuss it any further - so, let’s get changed into costumes for the first act.”
Merlin and Gwen exchange a nervous look.
_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _
Gwen likes chicken.
Arthur groans, he’s becoming pitiful, he really is. It’s been half a day and he’s moping. Like an overgrown child.
He gets up from the table and crosses over to flop onto his bed. Face first. It’s juvenile but what does he care? There’s no one around.
Gwen likes everything and everyone likes Gwen.
The memory whispers in his ear, and to his mortification he can still remember coming up with that. It had been years ago, created in an effort to annoy Morgana, but had unfortunately only succeeding in embarrassing Gwen. Who had actually stopped speaking to him for about a month or two. Morgana had been furious when she’d realized that he was the problem.
He’d had a second line to his rhyme . . . which regrettably hadn’t caught on. And he can’t even remember it any more; something about Morgana being stupid or grotesque . . . he’d tried to work toads in somewhere. He can remember that much.
Arthur sighs. Of course it had taken him a month to realise that Gwen wasn’t talking to him, because she was always quiet - it hadn’t been because he was thick or self involved - in fact one could almost say that it was a credit to his sensitivity that he had noticed.
Did he ever apologize for that?
Arthur screws his eyes up trying to remember.
Oh, God if he can remember it then she can.
He moans. It’s like his thoughts are trying to torture him. He needs a new topic. He tries to stay very still as he thinks of something else.
Unfortunately, thinking about not thinking about Gwen is still thinking about Gwen and all thought seems to lead to her, somehow. It’s an impossible task.
If Gwen could see him now when he’s . . . no he’s not sulking, he’s bored. That’s what this feeling is - boredom.
Boredom and chicken.
_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _
Merlin collapses next to Gwen, who’s perched on the edge of the stage, a damp cloth over the back of her neck. “And we thought we were tired before.”
Gwen’s shoulders shake as she laughs softly, “Well, now we know better.”
Merlin yawns, leaning on Gwen slightly, “I hate knowing better.”
Gwen doesn’t open her eyes, leaning back on him, “It’ll be worth it . . . Merlin would you be terribly offended if I admitted to being pleasantly surprised by how quickly you’re picking all this up?”
He bumps her shoulder, “So, you were lying before?” he asks, indignantly.
“No,” Gwen sighs, looking up at him through her veil of loose curls. “Since we’ve got here you’ve improved expediently, whether it’s the costumes or having other people watching and working with us, I don’t know. You’re just really getting into the swing of it. I’m very tiredly impressed.”
He smiles, “Well, I’m still not as good as you.”
She makes a scoffing noise and he shakes his head, “No, I mean it. I’m not just saying it as a friend. You’re really good up there, you make people look at you.”
Gwen groans. “Maybe I’m so bad they can’t look away.”
Merlin laughs and then holds his stomach with a moan. “Oh, God, Gwen. Don’t make me laugh. I’m sore,” he whines. “Everything hurts.” He waves his arm at her, “My elbow hurts and it’s not even there half the time.”
With a giggle Gwen sits up, taking his arm and kisses his elbow. “Better, Merlin?”
Merlin makes a dubious face, “Pff, if it was a magical kiss maybe. I have real problems Gwen, you can’t just kiss them better.”
“Don’t I know it,” Gwen replies, with a grin that widens as Merlin attempts to push her off the stage.
_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _
From the doorway Arthur watches as Gwen and Merlin sit closely together, scripts forgotten at their sides as they laugh and whisper to each other. He hadn’t been in time to catch much of the play except for the last ten minutes before they’d all taken a break, but he’d seen Gwen on stage. Seen her walk across it with a presence that drew the eye, seen Merlin offer his hand and her accept it with a coy smile that made something inside him ache, as a memory echoed from the past.
A lot of what he’d seen had been in touches and smiles, as their characters didn’t seem to have as much dialogue in that scene. But all of it, every interaction between the two of them had stolen all attention.
Together they had a charisma, a warmth, which he’d only gotten a hint of before, but up on the stage it was clear as day. There was an ease to them.
_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _
Gwen stops fighting with Merlin when movement at the doorway catches her eye. Recognizing the scruffy blonde hair and familiar blue eyes almost instantly, she starts smiling before she can stop herself. But something in his expression sobers her up and she slips off the stage, throwing the cloth back up to Merlin, “Go work on your sword fighting,” she orders, before dashing away, knowing somehow that Arthur’s not going to wait.
“Arthur,” Gwen says breathlessly, catching up to him and grabbing his arm. “What are you doing here?”
Arthur swallows and smiles weakly as he turns back to her. “Just wanted to see how things were going.”
She looks back in the direction of the room, “Would you like to join us? We’re starting back up in a moment so I can’t really-”
“No, it’s fine,” Arthur says, and begins to head towards the stairs again. Except that Gwen doesn’t let go of his arm.
“Something’s wrong.”
“No.”
“Yes,” Gwen steps closer. “You look like someone just died,” she says bluntly, trying to ignore the tiny flutter of apprehension that tickles within her throat. Hoping against hope that he hasn’t come baring bad news . . . oh no Gaius, she’s been worried about that rickety old ladder maybe-
“Guinevere, go back to your play,” Arthur instructs, tightly. “Go back to Merlin, I’m sure he’s lonely-”
There’s something in his tone and his face, that little crinkle near the side of his mouth. Its frustration verging on childish infuriation and suddenly she gets it.
Oh, you silly man.
“That’s it,” Gwen smiles, cutting him off and stepping even closer. “That’s what’s bothering you. You miss us,” she declares, a giggle in her voice.
“What?” Arthur scoffs. “It’s been a day-”
“Half a day, if that,” she corrects.
He leans into her, “I’m a grown man I don’t need . . .”
“Friends? Because both Merlin and I have decided that we’re pretty great.”
Gwen smirks slightly as Arthur rolls his eyes, before she continues, “Perhaps, there is someone else who might appreciate us more. Do you know any noblemen or women needing two slightly used, opinionated, servants experienced in various magical ailments and creatures? Including but not limited to; kidnappings, hostage rescues, enchantment removal, Dragons, conartists-”
“Stop it,” Arthur interjects, biting back a grin.
She tilts her head, “I’m sorry, stop what, my lord?” Gwen replies, innocently.
Arthur finds himself unable and unwilling to stop the grin as it spreads across his face, “Making me feel better. I have a right to be in a mood.”
“Of course you do,” Gwen nods.
“Gwen!” Merlin calls from the rehearsal room. “Abandon me here and it’ll just bring up all my abandonment issues!”
Gwen and Arthur exchange a look, before bursting out laughing.
“Sounds like you’re needed,” Arthur gestures back down the hallway.
She laughs, “Yes, well he got a splinter from the wooden sword about an hour ago and he’s been a bit uppity since.”
“Merlin’s fighting in this play?” Arthur asks, suspiciously.
Gwen points to his face, “That’s the expression we were all wearing an hour ago. But he’s actually quite good.”
Arthur scoffs. “Believe it when I see it.”
She’s tempted to ask whether he plans on attending, but she’s not sure what she wants the answer to be. So instead she lets go of his arm, “After tomorrow everything will go back to how it was,” she reassures.
“I can’t help but notice you didn’t say normal,” Arthur remarks, raising an eyebrow at her, looking almost disappointed that she let him go.
Gwen sighs, before getting up on her tippy toes and kissing his cheek. “Since when has anything around here been normal,” she asks, pulling away, a mischievous glint in her eye.
Arthur laughs, “Well, you have me there.”
Gwen starts walking backwards towards the room, “Do I?”
Arthur grins as she ducks her head, before leaving him with a parting note, “Do what Merlin and I are desperate to do - Go to bed,” she orders. “You look exhausted.”
When she disappears back into the room Arthur puts a hand to his cheek his grin widening. She always says the right thing.
He’d been completely overreacting; he hadn’t needed to drag himself out of bed. Of course it was also better to be safe then sorry. And now he knew . . . everything was fine.
After all, this was Merlin he was talking about. As if Gwen would ever even consider him an option as anything other then . . . well whatever he was to her now - friend, playmate, idiot, that jerk who was always asking her for favors.
As he walks back to the stairs the sound of Gwen laughing hysterically follows after him and he almost turns back.
_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _
Gwen uses one hand to shield her eyes from the mirror Merlin's holding up, while the other's trying frantically to pull off the fake mustache Merlin had pressed to her lip the moment she stepped through the doorway. But it's glued fast. "You're so immature," she laughs, also trying to avoid looking at him, as he's seen fit to stick a beard on himself. A long, thick, white beard that curls down his chest and he looks ridiculous.
Peering over the Mirror, Merlin fights great hiccuping laughs as he struggles to keep eye contact with Gwen, "Admit it, I'm your favorite," he demands.
_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _
So, there we are at the end of another chapter/part of this seemingly endless fic. I think the next part will include drinking and more practicing, as they haven't got much time left before it's curtains up. Wish me luck on drunk Gwen and Merlin. I'm a little iffy on whether I can pull it off. I've written something but I'm going to add to it and change it, include that Jonas guy - because he's there.
Sorry, if my Uther was too . . . uh happy? Good natured? I just think he'd be more careful with the child he has left, after all he has no reason to believe Morgana would want to come back and that Morguase wouldn't tell her EVERYTHING. So I kinda hope he's a better dad next season, that he spends more time with Arthur. PLUS I ♥ that scene where he playfully tries to kick Arthur's butt and Arthur runs away laughing - THAT'S the Pendragon men interaction I want to see more of!
Oh and about the linking thing, from 1 to get to 2 and etc. requires that I edit the post and LJ likes to mess with me and take away all the bold and italics that I've put down, so I'm pretty wary of doing it and I'm sorry if that makes it harder to read. I'll do it on a day when I have a bunch of time to rebold and italicize or maybe at the end.
Author: mustbethursday3
Rating: PG/14 (although it's probably G)
Characters/Pairings: Arthur/Gwen, Gwen/Merlin sort of.
Words: 4026+
Disclaimer: Merlin belongs to the BBC.
Summary: Prompt was: F-58. Merlin and Gwen need to play bf/gf OR hubby/wife for some reason, and they're "pretending" so well that it's driving Arthur mental.
Author’s notes: This is for camelot_love's '14 Days of Arthur & Guinevere'. This is what happens when my story and I disagree on the tone - it's a little cracky, a little crappy, a little random - but you can make up your own mind :D
This update would be longer, except that I got caught in the whirlwind of Drabble-land - reading and writing - and so I haven't really been focused on this much. Hence 'part 3 of ?' I can't help but wonder why this is so darn long! *pouts* unfortunately I could probably keep going for another 4 parts. BUT THAT'S NOT HAPPENING. Okay. Because I don't like feeling like I'm in limbo.
_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _
As they walk down into the village Gwen rolls up the long sleeves of Merlin’s jacket, so that she can actually see her hands. She feels like she’s playing dress ups.
Beside her Merlin yawns every dozen or so steps - mumbling about girls and friends and favors - shooting her little looks every now and then. Though he’s speaking too low for her to hear, she knows it’s not favorable.
Gwen shivers as the cool night air nips at her exposed cheeks and hands. “I don’t want to go,” she says, suddenly, breaking the silence, as she tucks her hands into her jacket pockets. “How do I get convinced to do these things?”
Merlin looks at her through narrowed eyes, before smiling derisively, “As I’ve said before you’re too nice. You need to learn to say ‘no’. I can teach you.”
“Because it works so well for you.”
Merlin glares.
Gwen eyes the sky, watching the fading light change the colour of it, “I’m not that nice. Not really. When someone needs help it’s instinctive to help them. It’s normal,” she responds, bumping his shoulder pointedly. “You do it.”
“No,” Merlin shakes his head. “I don’t agree to anything just because I have some stupid sense of-”
“You’re doing it right now,” Gwen contests, turning to look at him. “Why else are we both out here?”
Merlin stifles a yawn as he wraps an arm around her shoulders, “Because as usual somewhere someone needs us to do whatever this is for some reason that we’ll understand better after the fact,” he explains and looks down at her appraisingly. “Understand?”
“You’re so concise and clear, Merlin, how could anyone not,” Gwen reasons.
“I know,” Merlin says sagely. “It comes with age.”
Gwen muffles her snort. “You’re two weeks older then me.”
"And taller, height is important for great thought."
Gwen eyes him, he knows she's sensitive about her height. "We do seem to think quite differently on things," she agrees, after a pause.
“And what a difference.”
She licks her lip, “Oh, there’s a difference alright. One I'm actually quite glad of.”
Merlin squeezes her closer to his side, smiling tightly, “Careful, there are no witnesses and you’ve already deprived me of sleep-”
“It’s not even six-” Gwen starts to protest.
“And now you’re insulting my time keeping skills,” Merlin continues dangerously. "Perhaps, I had meant to go to bed early."
Gwen gives him a long look before removing her hands from her pockets and wrapping her small arms around his waist, hugging him, and placing her head against his chest, “Consider me fearful and obedient.”
Merlin chuckles. “I could be scary.”
She grimaces, pulling back so it’s easier to walk, “Hmm, I hear you hide under people’s beds,” she remarks lightly. “Lying in wait.”
“One time!”
His voice echoes and Gwen shushes him, “Well, it made an impression. Do you know he checks now?”
_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _
Arthur blinks at the sudden movement, as people start to get up from the long table and leave. His head feels heavier then usual and there’s this crick in his neck from bending over all these stupid documents.
“Well, that was productive,” his father says once everyone’s left and Arthur tries to see if he’s being sarcastic. But he looks serious.
“Oh, yes,” Arthur nods, dragging himself up from his chair. “That . . . that was just- It really meant a lot to me to be involved in something so-”
“Arthur,” Uther says, raising an eyebrow. “You fell asleep twice.”
Arthur shakes his head, trying to appear bemused, while trying to clear his head. “I was just resting my eyes. Though it may have appeared-”
“Son, I was born at night but not last night.” Uther grins at his son as he rises from his chair, “And you snore.”
Arthur flushes slightly, but still manages a smirk as he slings an arm around the back of his chair. “So, I hear,” he sighs. “But father I really meant no disresp-”
“And when you started muttering things I- for goodness sake Arthur, I thought several of the counsel were going to burn holes straight through your head with the way they-” Uther cuts himself off with a chuckle and Arthur frowns at the unfamiliar sound coming from his father. “If I’d known you were so divest of sleep I would have just let you go,” his father adds, sobering up.
“It won’t happen again,” Arthur assures him, seriously and Uther's mirth disappears.
In a few quick steps he rounds the table and claps his son on the shoulder, “Arthur,” he reprimands. “I understand how difficult the last few months have been on you - on Camelot - I don’t expect perfection and I don’t want you exhausting yourself trying to prove yourself to me.”
“But-”
“But, Camelot needs you at full strength. Go,” Uther shoos. “Go, sleep and we’ll talk about the developments of this meeting tomorrow.”
Arthur can’t help looking at him wearily, “The whole thing?”
Uther rolls his eyes, “A summary, Arthur. I don’t think I could do proper justice to a reenactment of the last few hours.”
Arthur winces, “That bad?”
Uther starts walking towards the doors, “I don’t think there are words suitable for it’s description,” he sighs and Arthur follows after him.
“You’re staying awake for the next one, I hope?” the King tosses over his shoulder. “I believe Fredrick is very eager to hear your proposal on seasonal budgeting and taxation stipulations.”
Arthur stops, but his father keeps going. “Next one?” he calls out, trying not to sound as despairing as he feels. “What? Did you all take a vote while I was resting my eyes?!”
Uther doesn’t turn, his grin unseen by his son as he continues down the corridor.
“Time waits for no man, Arthur.”
_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _
Gwen peers up at Merlin her expression becoming serious, “Do you really want to go?”
Merlin rolls his eyes, “Keep asking me and I’ll say no. We’re halfway there, no point turning back now.”
“Halfway?” Gwen says, as they wander down another dark street.
Merlin glances around, “Well . . .”
Gwen chuckles. “We’re lost. You’ve lost us,” she adds cheerfully.
“We are not lost.”
“Well, where are we?”
He glares before replying huffily, “Camelot. A street in Camelot.”
Gwen giggles and stops to look up at him, amused at his expression. “You’re grumpy when you’re tired,” she remarks before glancing around them.
“I seem to remember that being your fault.”
“My fault? Arthur volunteered you.”
Merlin raises an eyebrow, “but he’s not the reason I’m going to all the trouble.”
Gwen smiles at him fondly, a few free curls catching in the slight breeze. “And that’s why you’re one of my favorite people in the whole world,” she murmurs before looking down a nearby street. “And you were close, we’re only a block from the tavern, we need to go that way,” she points.
Merlin makes an exaggerated motion in the air, “Well, panic over, by all means lead the way.”
“Okay then,” Gwen smirks and starts off down the street. She nods to herself, “I have a really good feeling about this. The play I mean.”
Falling into step beside her Merlin groans. “My god . . . you’re delirious.” he reaches to feel her forehead. “I can’t even keep up with your mood swings.”
She bats his hand away, “Merlin.”
Merlin drops the hand, but adopts a grave expression. “They’ll have to cancel the play, there’s no way you can perform in this state.”
“Don’t even joke about it,” Gwen warns, as they come within eyesight of the tavern, light shining from within, looking warm and inviting. “I don’t think Grace could take another set back.”
“Says the girl who wanted to turn back only a moment ago,” Merlin mutters. “Why do girls always change their minds? What’s wrong with you?”
“I said I didn’t want to go, not that I wouldn’t,” she corrects, hurrying the last few steps to their destination, eager to get out of the cold. “There’s a difference.”
“Semantics,” Merlin scoffs and reaches out to open the door, letting Gwen go in ahead of him.
“Wait, what do you mean ‘one of' ?” he inquires, frowning as he follows her into the Horse Shoe and they both get swallowed up by the noise and people.
_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _
Candles are mounted on every surface; tables, shelves, windows and tall candelabras, that Gwen hadn’t noticed that morning, adorn every dark corner, shining brightly onto the heads of the men gathered around tables, as they walk to the bar, laugh in the booths, all in a happy drunken stupor.
She notices Grace waving at her through the crowd from behind the bar, gesturing to the tall staircase coiling up to the second story on the far side of the bar as Merlin takes her hand.
“I think you were right the first time, we should go home,” he yells into her ear, over the noise. “We stand out like sore thumbs.”
Gwen turns to grin at him as she starts pulling him through the crowd, “Live a little, Merlin. I think being around other people will do you good,” she chides, setting a course for the staircase, where she can see Grace is already waiting. “Looks like everybody started early tonight.”
They’re about halfway across the room - due mostly to Gwen’s deft ability to weave through the crowd of patrons - when Merlin bumps into a man carrying a goblet of mead back to his table, sending it sloshing over the man’s front.
Recognizing the danger of being in a large crowded place filled with drunken men, Gwen steps towards him before he can react, putting herself between him and Merlin with a sorry smile, “Oh, my goodness, sir I’m so sorry. I’m afraid Merlin gets terribly clumsy at even the waft of mead in the air. You’re the Milliner’s eldest aren’t you?” she says, smoothly. Ignoring Merlin’s grunt at her summary of his behavior around alcohol.
Jonas Mills looks down at the warm brown eyes fixed on him, her small full lips curved into a soft smile as she awaits his answer and finds himself unable to feel bad at the loss of his drink. He holds out his free hand, “Jonas,” he says, allowing a grin. “And you are?”
“Gwen,” she replies, taking his hand and shaking it without the hesitation most women had at such an offer. “It’s a pleasure to meet you. I thought your mother had said you were seeking your fortune on the sea?”
Jonas laughs, “Oh, those foolish dreams lasted all of a year. I’m afraid I am unsuited to the rise and dip of the sea, it violently disagreed with my stomach.”
“Oh,” Gwen laughs. “How terribly disappointing.”
“Well,” He makes a noncommittal noise. “I’ve found work at the farms and that suits me well enough and,” he takes her hand again, “I got to make your acquaintance, Gwen.” He kisses the back of her hand.
Behind Gwen Merlin makes a face, “We have to get going, actually,” he interrupts. “Don’t we Gwen?”
Gwen nods, gently pulling her hand free, “Yes, we do, but your drink-”
Jonas shakes his head, “It’s fine. I should have known to watch out for clumsy boys.”
Gwen laughs, before dipping her head, “Very kind of you. Now, if you’ll excuse us?” She takes Merlin’s hand again and pulls him around Jonas, heading again to the staircase and Grace.
“I’ll see you around?” Jonas calls after her.
Gwen glances over her shoulder with a smile, before looking ahead again.
“Clumsy boys,” Merlin hisses and Gwen laughs.
“That’s the impression you give a lot of people, and it’s your own fault.”
“And what was that?”
Gwen shakes her head, “That was me saving you from being accosted by a man a good head taller then you.”
Merlin scoffs. “That was flirting. I wonder what a certain person whose name starts with ‘A’ would have to say about that little display.”
A few steps from the bottom of the staircase Gwen turns to him, “Merlin, you’re not going to get any denials or pleas from me. Tell him whatever you want.”
Merlin scowls, “Because I’m the one who’ll have to deal with his bad mood.”
“Probably,” Gwen smirks. “Although, it was all very harmless, I can’t really see what there is to make a fuss over.”
“You’ve become devious,” Merlin murmurs aghast, as they arrive in front of a harried looking Grace. “And I don’t like it.”
“I expect it’s the consequence of the company I keep,” Gwen says, raising a brow.
_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _
Arthur picks over his dinner with disinterest. It’s chicken and in a very strange way it seems to be depressing him.
As it turns out being excused from sitting down to eat with his father isn’t as great as he’d imagined. In fact if anything - it’s lonely, just sitting in his cavernous chamber waiting.
And he doesn’t even know what he’s waiting for.
Gwen and Merlin will be down at the tavern already, rehearsing. And it’s not like they’ll come back to his chambers to see how he’s going. To see if he needs anything. Company for example, since they left him in the lurch and everything.
And apparently it takes three different servants to do Merlin’s job. There are three different servants he’s seen puttering around. Three. What do there need to be three for? Merlin manages, sometimes, usually, without too much complaining. And none of them want to chat.
He tried, failing spectacularly to learn their names or find out something about them.
The last girl, returning with his laundry, had practically fled when he’d mentioned a book he was reading.
Evidently, Gwen and Merlin are somewhat of an abnormality - just as he’d always suspected. It wasn’t that he’d been too arrogant to interact more with the servants, it had been that they hadn’t been the right ones. So, not his fault at all.
He expects that they’ll tell him all about their little play tomorrow. Bore him probably. If they even remember him . . . They’re probably really busy.
Too busy for him anyway.
_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _
Grace leads them up the stairs to a large room, where the rehearsal is to take place; it’s about two-thirds the size of the tavern floor below. For a big room it feels intimate, with rich wood paneling reaching up from the floor to meet the forest colour above, the dark wood decorated with carved wooden vines running the length of the room. At the sides and in the middle are a large assortment of chairs and at the far end a large wooden stage, with stairs leading up to it on either side. As soon as they step over the threshold the sounds below quiet, leaving only the muted sounds of merriment below their feet. Dotted around the room are a dozen or more people, obviously waiting to begin.
“Right!” Grace calls, clapping her hands to get the attention of the room and it’s various occupants. “Lets get started shall we?” She gestures to Gwen and Merlin as they walk hesitantly towards the middle of the room. “These are our new leads, Gwen and Merlin, Audrey and Daniel are out - big disaster, I don’t want to discuss it any further - so, let’s get changed into costumes for the first act.”
Merlin and Gwen exchange a nervous look.
_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _
Gwen likes chicken.
Arthur groans, he’s becoming pitiful, he really is. It’s been half a day and he’s moping. Like an overgrown child.
He gets up from the table and crosses over to flop onto his bed. Face first. It’s juvenile but what does he care? There’s no one around.
Gwen likes everything and everyone likes Gwen.
The memory whispers in his ear, and to his mortification he can still remember coming up with that. It had been years ago, created in an effort to annoy Morgana, but had unfortunately only succeeding in embarrassing Gwen. Who had actually stopped speaking to him for about a month or two. Morgana had been furious when she’d realized that he was the problem.
He’d had a second line to his rhyme . . . which regrettably hadn’t caught on. And he can’t even remember it any more; something about Morgana being stupid or grotesque . . . he’d tried to work toads in somewhere. He can remember that much.
Arthur sighs. Of course it had taken him a month to realise that Gwen wasn’t talking to him, because she was always quiet - it hadn’t been because he was thick or self involved - in fact one could almost say that it was a credit to his sensitivity that he had noticed.
Did he ever apologize for that?
Arthur screws his eyes up trying to remember.
Oh, God if he can remember it then she can.
He moans. It’s like his thoughts are trying to torture him. He needs a new topic. He tries to stay very still as he thinks of something else.
Unfortunately, thinking about not thinking about Gwen is still thinking about Gwen and all thought seems to lead to her, somehow. It’s an impossible task.
If Gwen could see him now when he’s . . . no he’s not sulking, he’s bored. That’s what this feeling is - boredom.
Boredom and chicken.
_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _
Merlin collapses next to Gwen, who’s perched on the edge of the stage, a damp cloth over the back of her neck. “And we thought we were tired before.”
Gwen’s shoulders shake as she laughs softly, “Well, now we know better.”
Merlin yawns, leaning on Gwen slightly, “I hate knowing better.”
Gwen doesn’t open her eyes, leaning back on him, “It’ll be worth it . . . Merlin would you be terribly offended if I admitted to being pleasantly surprised by how quickly you’re picking all this up?”
He bumps her shoulder, “So, you were lying before?” he asks, indignantly.
“No,” Gwen sighs, looking up at him through her veil of loose curls. “Since we’ve got here you’ve improved expediently, whether it’s the costumes or having other people watching and working with us, I don’t know. You’re just really getting into the swing of it. I’m very tiredly impressed.”
He smiles, “Well, I’m still not as good as you.”
She makes a scoffing noise and he shakes his head, “No, I mean it. I’m not just saying it as a friend. You’re really good up there, you make people look at you.”
Gwen groans. “Maybe I’m so bad they can’t look away.”
Merlin laughs and then holds his stomach with a moan. “Oh, God, Gwen. Don’t make me laugh. I’m sore,” he whines. “Everything hurts.” He waves his arm at her, “My elbow hurts and it’s not even there half the time.”
With a giggle Gwen sits up, taking his arm and kisses his elbow. “Better, Merlin?”
Merlin makes a dubious face, “Pff, if it was a magical kiss maybe. I have real problems Gwen, you can’t just kiss them better.”
“Don’t I know it,” Gwen replies, with a grin that widens as Merlin attempts to push her off the stage.
_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _
From the doorway Arthur watches as Gwen and Merlin sit closely together, scripts forgotten at their sides as they laugh and whisper to each other. He hadn’t been in time to catch much of the play except for the last ten minutes before they’d all taken a break, but he’d seen Gwen on stage. Seen her walk across it with a presence that drew the eye, seen Merlin offer his hand and her accept it with a coy smile that made something inside him ache, as a memory echoed from the past.
A lot of what he’d seen had been in touches and smiles, as their characters didn’t seem to have as much dialogue in that scene. But all of it, every interaction between the two of them had stolen all attention.
Together they had a charisma, a warmth, which he’d only gotten a hint of before, but up on the stage it was clear as day. There was an ease to them.
_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _
Gwen stops fighting with Merlin when movement at the doorway catches her eye. Recognizing the scruffy blonde hair and familiar blue eyes almost instantly, she starts smiling before she can stop herself. But something in his expression sobers her up and she slips off the stage, throwing the cloth back up to Merlin, “Go work on your sword fighting,” she orders, before dashing away, knowing somehow that Arthur’s not going to wait.
“Arthur,” Gwen says breathlessly, catching up to him and grabbing his arm. “What are you doing here?”
Arthur swallows and smiles weakly as he turns back to her. “Just wanted to see how things were going.”
She looks back in the direction of the room, “Would you like to join us? We’re starting back up in a moment so I can’t really-”
“No, it’s fine,” Arthur says, and begins to head towards the stairs again. Except that Gwen doesn’t let go of his arm.
“Something’s wrong.”
“No.”
“Yes,” Gwen steps closer. “You look like someone just died,” she says bluntly, trying to ignore the tiny flutter of apprehension that tickles within her throat. Hoping against hope that he hasn’t come baring bad news . . . oh no Gaius, she’s been worried about that rickety old ladder maybe-
“Guinevere, go back to your play,” Arthur instructs, tightly. “Go back to Merlin, I’m sure he’s lonely-”
There’s something in his tone and his face, that little crinkle near the side of his mouth. Its frustration verging on childish infuriation and suddenly she gets it.
Oh, you silly man.
“That’s it,” Gwen smiles, cutting him off and stepping even closer. “That’s what’s bothering you. You miss us,” she declares, a giggle in her voice.
“What?” Arthur scoffs. “It’s been a day-”
“Half a day, if that,” she corrects.
He leans into her, “I’m a grown man I don’t need . . .”
“Friends? Because both Merlin and I have decided that we’re pretty great.”
Gwen smirks slightly as Arthur rolls his eyes, before she continues, “Perhaps, there is someone else who might appreciate us more. Do you know any noblemen or women needing two slightly used, opinionated, servants experienced in various magical ailments and creatures? Including but not limited to; kidnappings, hostage rescues, enchantment removal, Dragons, conartists-”
“Stop it,” Arthur interjects, biting back a grin.
She tilts her head, “I’m sorry, stop what, my lord?” Gwen replies, innocently.
Arthur finds himself unable and unwilling to stop the grin as it spreads across his face, “Making me feel better. I have a right to be in a mood.”
“Of course you do,” Gwen nods.
“Gwen!” Merlin calls from the rehearsal room. “Abandon me here and it’ll just bring up all my abandonment issues!”
Gwen and Arthur exchange a look, before bursting out laughing.
“Sounds like you’re needed,” Arthur gestures back down the hallway.
She laughs, “Yes, well he got a splinter from the wooden sword about an hour ago and he’s been a bit uppity since.”
“Merlin’s fighting in this play?” Arthur asks, suspiciously.
Gwen points to his face, “That’s the expression we were all wearing an hour ago. But he’s actually quite good.”
Arthur scoffs. “Believe it when I see it.”
She’s tempted to ask whether he plans on attending, but she’s not sure what she wants the answer to be. So instead she lets go of his arm, “After tomorrow everything will go back to how it was,” she reassures.
“I can’t help but notice you didn’t say normal,” Arthur remarks, raising an eyebrow at her, looking almost disappointed that she let him go.
Gwen sighs, before getting up on her tippy toes and kissing his cheek. “Since when has anything around here been normal,” she asks, pulling away, a mischievous glint in her eye.
Arthur laughs, “Well, you have me there.”
Gwen starts walking backwards towards the room, “Do I?”
Arthur grins as she ducks her head, before leaving him with a parting note, “Do what Merlin and I are desperate to do - Go to bed,” she orders. “You look exhausted.”
When she disappears back into the room Arthur puts a hand to his cheek his grin widening. She always says the right thing.
He’d been completely overreacting; he hadn’t needed to drag himself out of bed. Of course it was also better to be safe then sorry. And now he knew . . . everything was fine.
After all, this was Merlin he was talking about. As if Gwen would ever even consider him an option as anything other then . . . well whatever he was to her now - friend, playmate, idiot, that jerk who was always asking her for favors.
As he walks back to the stairs the sound of Gwen laughing hysterically follows after him and he almost turns back.
_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _
Gwen uses one hand to shield her eyes from the mirror Merlin's holding up, while the other's trying frantically to pull off the fake mustache Merlin had pressed to her lip the moment she stepped through the doorway. But it's glued fast. "You're so immature," she laughs, also trying to avoid looking at him, as he's seen fit to stick a beard on himself. A long, thick, white beard that curls down his chest and he looks ridiculous.
Peering over the Mirror, Merlin fights great hiccuping laughs as he struggles to keep eye contact with Gwen, "Admit it, I'm your favorite," he demands.
_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _
So, there we are at the end of another chapter/part of this seemingly endless fic. I think the next part will include drinking and more practicing, as they haven't got much time left before it's curtains up. Wish me luck on drunk Gwen and Merlin. I'm a little iffy on whether I can pull it off. I've written something but I'm going to add to it and change it, include that Jonas guy - because he's there.
Sorry, if my Uther was too . . . uh happy? Good natured? I just think he'd be more careful with the child he has left, after all he has no reason to believe Morgana would want to come back and that Morguase wouldn't tell her EVERYTHING. So I kinda hope he's a better dad next season, that he spends more time with Arthur. PLUS I ♥ that scene where he playfully tries to kick Arthur's butt and Arthur runs away laughing - THAT'S the Pendragon men interaction I want to see more of!
Oh and about the linking thing, from 1 to get to 2 and etc. requires that I edit the post and LJ likes to mess with me and take away all the bold and italics that I've put down, so I'm pretty wary of doing it and I'm sorry if that makes it harder to read. I'll do it on a day when I have a bunch of time to rebold and italicize or maybe at the end.