(no subject)
Title: The Luck of the Draw
Fandoms: Merlin & The Traitor Game
Characters/Pairings: Gwen, Tom, Merlin, Hunith, Morgana, Gorlois, Arthur, Francis, Francis's Mum, Michael, Michael's Mum, Uther, Luke, [Francis/Michael, Gwen/Morgana, Arthur/Merlin]
Rating/Warnings: PG-13, swearing, homophobia, hateful language (mostly self-labelling but not in a reclaiming sense)
Written for: hs_bingo, prompt "coming out" (last one! except I think I need to rewrite "blind date" ASAP, it isn't really close)
Wordcount: 1800
A/N: Hello, Michael's Mum, apparently you have repressed snarking instincts and a lot of insecurities and are maybe a bit more perceptive than Michael gave you credit for. Welcome to the list of People I Am Going To Write About.
----
Gwen, age 13
“Dad?” Gwen whispered to the grease-stained gears of the car’s engine. She cleared her throat and straightened up a bit, then tried again at a more audible volume. “Dad?”
“Yeah?” he asked, voice muffled by the truck he was currently tuning from underneath.
“I - I need to tell you something,” Gwen mumbled, rubbing her hands on her coveralls.
“What is it?” He dragged himself out into the open and eyed her with upside-down concern. “Is everything all right?”
“Yeah, everything’s fine, but -” She bent closer over the engine. “I - I think, I mean, I don’t think, I pretty much know, but anyway, that doesn’t really matter, it’s just, I’m - I mean, I like - I mean, I guess, there’s a reason I’ve never mentioned, you know, boys, I mean, it isn’t a bad thing or anything, it doesn’t, uh, I mean, at least you won’t have to worry about me getting into, you know, trouble or anything -”
“Gwen,” her father interrupted; from the corner of her eye she could see him sitting up. “What are you trying to tell me?”
“I - I think - I’m pretty sure -” Say it, dammit. “I’m a lesbian.”
Silence.
“Are you sure, honey?” he asked eventually. “I mean, you’re awfully young -”
“I’m sure,” she interrupted, worrying at her lip.
“Well, then - some of those friends you’ve mentioned, girls from school, have they been -”
“No, Dad. I’m single, I always have been so far.”
“Well, then -” He sighed. “I guess I just don’t understand, sweetie. How is it you know?”
I can’t talk to a pretty girl without tripping over my words worse than ever and I just can’t ever find anything at all appealing about doing anything with a guy but even guessing at - at whatever happens with girls is enough to make me blush, and I’ve been having dreams about Ellen Page at night and - “I just know, Dad.”
“All right, I believe you, but - is this my fault? Because of your mother, or having you working in the garage all this time -”
“It isn’t anyone’s fault, Dad, please, it’s just - it’s just me, it’s just the way I am!”
That last part came out uncomfortably loud, echoing against the concrete. She hunched her shoulders as her father got up and crossed the room to her, footsteps slow and shuffling. She wasn’t sure what she was expecting, but it wasn’t the sudden, comforting crush of a bear hug from behind.
“All right then,” he whispered. “It’s all right.”
“Really?” she whispered, leaning back against his shoulder.
“Yeah. I mean, it isn’t - it’ll make things harder, and I wish you didn’t have to face that. But you’re still my daughter, okay? You’re still my daughter.”
“Thanks, Dad,” she whispered.
-----
Merlin, age 14
“Merlin,” Hunith said, sitting on the edge of his bed, “I want to talk to you for a moment.”
“Yeah?” he asked, eyeing her dubiously over the edge of his book.
“I overheard you talking to that nice Gwen girl earlier.”
His fingers went white around the edges of the book. “And?”
“I just thought you should probably know that I’ve known you’re gay for years.”
“What?”
“Well, I haven’t known, but I’ve been fairly sure. And I heard you talking, and you sounded like you were worrying about telling me. So I thought you should know that I know.”
“And you’re not upset?” he asked, and God, sometimes he still sounded so young.
“No. No, not at all.”
----
Francis, 15
“Francis.”
He glanced up from his homework (spread out over the kitchen table, right next to all the noise from the living room, as always).
“What is it?”
“Luke says that he’s been having trouble at school.”
“And you want me to tutor him?” he asked, keeping his eyes on his paper and his tone carefully mild.
“Not that kind of trouble. He said he’s getting teased because of rumors - about you.”
Oh dear God. “What kind of rumors?”
“That you might be… homosexual.”
He managed, with great effort, to keep from tensing at all. “Well, what do you want me to do about it? I’d love to make them shut up, but it isn’t working very well so far.”
“Mostly I wanted to make sure that the rumors weren’t true.”
Do not flinch. Do not freeze. Do not react. “Mum! What?!”
“So they’re not true?”
“Of course not! Do you actually need to ask?”
She chuckled. “I’m sorry, Francis. I just had to make sure, you know? They say it can happen to anyone. I’m sorry you have to deal with the rumors, though.”
“It’s not too bad. I can handle it.”
“Good. Let me know if it gets too bad, all right? And I’ll go tell Luke to stop fussing about the rumors.” She ruffled his hair and returned to the noise of the living room.
He pinched the bridge of his nose, sighing. If anyone looked through the door, he could say it was because of his homework.
He was a miserable lying faggot, and he knew it.
-----
Morgana, age 15
The clunk of her fork against her plate shattered the silence. “Father?” she said, in case that hadn’t attracted his attention.
He looked up from his papers. “Yes, Morgana?”
“I thought I should clarify something about my relationship with Gwen.”
“What do you mean?”
She took a deep breath. “You should be aware that she and I are a couple. Romantically.”
And winter claimed the dining room as well as the rest of the world.
“What?” Gorlois demanded, slowly lowering his fork.
“Gwen is my girlfriend, not my friend.”
“So you’re a - a -”
“A dyke, yes.” She reached for her glass.
“Watch your language, young lady!” he snapped.
“Sorry.” Her soda was flat by now, but still cold; she rolled the flavor through her mouth, ignoring everything else.
She heard a deep breath form the other side of the table. “So how long has this been going on?”
“How long have Gwen and I been a couple? Since the Christmas party, so about a month. I’ve been a lesbian my entire life, but I’ve known for a year or so.” She forced herself to look at him; he was shaking his head.
“I don’t understand, Morgana. Are you trying to tell me something here? Are you upset about school, or my work, or something else that I don’t know about? Is it teenage rebellion, or are you having trouble - I can sign you up for therapy if you think it would help -”
“I’m fine,” she interrupted. “Nothing is the matter. I’m not trying to tell you anything besides the fact that I have a girlfriend. A very nice girlfriend, with whom I am very happy.” She shoved her chair back with enough force that the noise covered his response. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to go get my things together so I can return to school tomorrow. Good night."
----
Michael, age 16
“Michael?” his mother asked, peeking around the door of his room. “Is everything all right?”
“What? Yeah, yeah, everything’s fine.”
Yes, that’s why you’re curled up on your bed with your arms around your knees trying to stare a hole in the wall. “You don’t look fine.”
“Really, Mum. Everything’s all right.”
He didn’t even bother to look at her while he lied, and - you know what, no, she wasn’t putting up with this again. “No, it isn’t.” She shoved the door the rest of the way open and dropped onto the bed next to him. “Michael, I promise not to judge you, I promise not to overreact, I promise not to do anything if you don’t want me to. But please, tell me what the problem is. I’m not leaving until you do.”
“Mum.”
“I mean it.” Silence. “Michael, you’re a very bad liar, you know.”
He sighed, turning his face away. “It’s nothing, really.” She waited. After almost five increasingly uncomfortable minutes, he sighed. “It’s Francis.”
“What about Francis? Have you two been fighting?”
“What? No, no, that’s all sorted out now.” She filed that away to inspect later. “It’s just - well, you can’t tell anyone, but he’s… gay.”
All kinds of things were being filed away today. “I see,” she said, very carefully. “Is that a problem?”
“No, not really, but - I don’t know. Not that he’s gay, but -”
“Do you think he fancies you, is that it?”
“I hope he does.” He still wasn’t looking at her, but she could watch the colour draining out of what she could see of his face. “Oh, God, I hope he does. I want him to fancy me, I want - I want -”
She wrapped her arm around his shaking shoulders, pulled him around until he was burying his face in her neck. He’d be humiliated about crying later, she knew, but she’d worry about smoothing that over once she was done with this problem.
“Hush, hush, Michael, it’s okay,” she whispered, rubbing circles on his back, the way she had when he was a child. “It’s okay, it’s really okay.”
“Okay?” he choked out, sounding rather scandalized.
“Yes. Yes, it’s really okay. Whatever you are, whoever you like, whatever you feel about Francis, whether you’re gay or bi or anything else, it’s really and truly all right. Honestly.”
----
Arthur, age 17
“Do you think you’ll ever come out to your dad?” Merlin asked one night. They were sprawled out in Arthur’s bed, tired and sweaty and naked under the cotton blankets.
“Are you insane?” Arthur asked, levering himself up on one elbow so as to present Merlin with the proper disbelieving stare. “I happen to like being able to stay in this house.”
“But you’re going off to college soon anyway,” Merlin protested, sitting up as well as he could with the sheets tangled round his legs.
“What does that have to do with anything?” Arthur demanded, wondering when they’d started talking in bed like an old married couple. Not that he objected, particularly, but he wished they weren’t talking about this particular topic right now.
“Well, you’d be away from him in college, wouldn’t you?” Merlin asked, frowning. “So you wouldn’t have to put up with his glaring or his lectures or whatever.”
“Yes, but the problem with that, Merlin, is that I cannot go to college if my father is refusing to pay for it.”
“Why would he do that?” And Merlin looked so utterly confused, and also frankly rather ridiculous and sort of adorable with his hair sticking up everywhere, that Arthur wasn’t sure whether to snog him madly or throw something at his head. He settled for flopping back on the pillows in exasperation.
“Because, Merlin, he wouldn’t want to waste money educating his former son who turned out to be a faggot.”
“What are you going on about?”
“Merlin. If I came out to my father, he would disown me without a second thought.” And that didn’t sound nearly as well-adjusted and resigned as it should have done.
“Oh.”
“Yes. Oh.”
“I’m sorry,” the other boy offered unexpectedly, wriggling down under the covers and resting his head against Arthur’s shoulder.
“Yes, well. It is what it is.”
And that is the crux of the matter.
Fandoms: Merlin & The Traitor Game
Characters/Pairings: Gwen, Tom, Merlin, Hunith, Morgana, Gorlois, Arthur, Francis, Francis's Mum, Michael, Michael's Mum, Uther, Luke, [Francis/Michael, Gwen/Morgana, Arthur/Merlin]
Rating/Warnings: PG-13, swearing, homophobia, hateful language (mostly self-labelling but not in a reclaiming sense)
Written for: hs_bingo, prompt "coming out" (last one! except I think I need to rewrite "blind date" ASAP, it isn't really close)
Wordcount: 1800
A/N: Hello, Michael's Mum, apparently you have repressed snarking instincts and a lot of insecurities and are maybe a bit more perceptive than Michael gave you credit for. Welcome to the list of People I Am Going To Write About.
----
Gwen, age 13
“Dad?” Gwen whispered to the grease-stained gears of the car’s engine. She cleared her throat and straightened up a bit, then tried again at a more audible volume. “Dad?”
“Yeah?” he asked, voice muffled by the truck he was currently tuning from underneath.
“I - I need to tell you something,” Gwen mumbled, rubbing her hands on her coveralls.
“What is it?” He dragged himself out into the open and eyed her with upside-down concern. “Is everything all right?”
“Yeah, everything’s fine, but -” She bent closer over the engine. “I - I think, I mean, I don’t think, I pretty much know, but anyway, that doesn’t really matter, it’s just, I’m - I mean, I like - I mean, I guess, there’s a reason I’ve never mentioned, you know, boys, I mean, it isn’t a bad thing or anything, it doesn’t, uh, I mean, at least you won’t have to worry about me getting into, you know, trouble or anything -”
“Gwen,” her father interrupted; from the corner of her eye she could see him sitting up. “What are you trying to tell me?”
“I - I think - I’m pretty sure -” Say it, dammit. “I’m a lesbian.”
Silence.
“Are you sure, honey?” he asked eventually. “I mean, you’re awfully young -”
“I’m sure,” she interrupted, worrying at her lip.
“Well, then - some of those friends you’ve mentioned, girls from school, have they been -”
“No, Dad. I’m single, I always have been so far.”
“Well, then -” He sighed. “I guess I just don’t understand, sweetie. How is it you know?”
I can’t talk to a pretty girl without tripping over my words worse than ever and I just can’t ever find anything at all appealing about doing anything with a guy but even guessing at - at whatever happens with girls is enough to make me blush, and I’ve been having dreams about Ellen Page at night and - “I just know, Dad.”
“All right, I believe you, but - is this my fault? Because of your mother, or having you working in the garage all this time -”
“It isn’t anyone’s fault, Dad, please, it’s just - it’s just me, it’s just the way I am!”
That last part came out uncomfortably loud, echoing against the concrete. She hunched her shoulders as her father got up and crossed the room to her, footsteps slow and shuffling. She wasn’t sure what she was expecting, but it wasn’t the sudden, comforting crush of a bear hug from behind.
“All right then,” he whispered. “It’s all right.”
“Really?” she whispered, leaning back against his shoulder.
“Yeah. I mean, it isn’t - it’ll make things harder, and I wish you didn’t have to face that. But you’re still my daughter, okay? You’re still my daughter.”
“Thanks, Dad,” she whispered.
-----
Merlin, age 14
“Merlin,” Hunith said, sitting on the edge of his bed, “I want to talk to you for a moment.”
“Yeah?” he asked, eyeing her dubiously over the edge of his book.
“I overheard you talking to that nice Gwen girl earlier.”
His fingers went white around the edges of the book. “And?”
“I just thought you should probably know that I’ve known you’re gay for years.”
“What?”
“Well, I haven’t known, but I’ve been fairly sure. And I heard you talking, and you sounded like you were worrying about telling me. So I thought you should know that I know.”
“And you’re not upset?” he asked, and God, sometimes he still sounded so young.
“No. No, not at all.”
----
Francis, 15
“Francis.”
He glanced up from his homework (spread out over the kitchen table, right next to all the noise from the living room, as always).
“What is it?”
“Luke says that he’s been having trouble at school.”
“And you want me to tutor him?” he asked, keeping his eyes on his paper and his tone carefully mild.
“Not that kind of trouble. He said he’s getting teased because of rumors - about you.”
Oh dear God. “What kind of rumors?”
“That you might be… homosexual.”
He managed, with great effort, to keep from tensing at all. “Well, what do you want me to do about it? I’d love to make them shut up, but it isn’t working very well so far.”
“Mostly I wanted to make sure that the rumors weren’t true.”
Do not flinch. Do not freeze. Do not react. “Mum! What?!”
“So they’re not true?”
“Of course not! Do you actually need to ask?”
She chuckled. “I’m sorry, Francis. I just had to make sure, you know? They say it can happen to anyone. I’m sorry you have to deal with the rumors, though.”
“It’s not too bad. I can handle it.”
“Good. Let me know if it gets too bad, all right? And I’ll go tell Luke to stop fussing about the rumors.” She ruffled his hair and returned to the noise of the living room.
He pinched the bridge of his nose, sighing. If anyone looked through the door, he could say it was because of his homework.
He was a miserable lying faggot, and he knew it.
-----
Morgana, age 15
The clunk of her fork against her plate shattered the silence. “Father?” she said, in case that hadn’t attracted his attention.
He looked up from his papers. “Yes, Morgana?”
“I thought I should clarify something about my relationship with Gwen.”
“What do you mean?”
She took a deep breath. “You should be aware that she and I are a couple. Romantically.”
And winter claimed the dining room as well as the rest of the world.
“What?” Gorlois demanded, slowly lowering his fork.
“Gwen is my girlfriend, not my friend.”
“So you’re a - a -”
“A dyke, yes.” She reached for her glass.
“Watch your language, young lady!” he snapped.
“Sorry.” Her soda was flat by now, but still cold; she rolled the flavor through her mouth, ignoring everything else.
She heard a deep breath form the other side of the table. “So how long has this been going on?”
“How long have Gwen and I been a couple? Since the Christmas party, so about a month. I’ve been a lesbian my entire life, but I’ve known for a year or so.” She forced herself to look at him; he was shaking his head.
“I don’t understand, Morgana. Are you trying to tell me something here? Are you upset about school, or my work, or something else that I don’t know about? Is it teenage rebellion, or are you having trouble - I can sign you up for therapy if you think it would help -”
“I’m fine,” she interrupted. “Nothing is the matter. I’m not trying to tell you anything besides the fact that I have a girlfriend. A very nice girlfriend, with whom I am very happy.” She shoved her chair back with enough force that the noise covered his response. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to go get my things together so I can return to school tomorrow. Good night."
----
Michael, age 16
“Michael?” his mother asked, peeking around the door of his room. “Is everything all right?”
“What? Yeah, yeah, everything’s fine.”
Yes, that’s why you’re curled up on your bed with your arms around your knees trying to stare a hole in the wall. “You don’t look fine.”
“Really, Mum. Everything’s all right.”
He didn’t even bother to look at her while he lied, and - you know what, no, she wasn’t putting up with this again. “No, it isn’t.” She shoved the door the rest of the way open and dropped onto the bed next to him. “Michael, I promise not to judge you, I promise not to overreact, I promise not to do anything if you don’t want me to. But please, tell me what the problem is. I’m not leaving until you do.”
“Mum.”
“I mean it.” Silence. “Michael, you’re a very bad liar, you know.”
He sighed, turning his face away. “It’s nothing, really.” She waited. After almost five increasingly uncomfortable minutes, he sighed. “It’s Francis.”
“What about Francis? Have you two been fighting?”
“What? No, no, that’s all sorted out now.” She filed that away to inspect later. “It’s just - well, you can’t tell anyone, but he’s… gay.”
All kinds of things were being filed away today. “I see,” she said, very carefully. “Is that a problem?”
“No, not really, but - I don’t know. Not that he’s gay, but -”
“Do you think he fancies you, is that it?”
“I hope he does.” He still wasn’t looking at her, but she could watch the colour draining out of what she could see of his face. “Oh, God, I hope he does. I want him to fancy me, I want - I want -”
She wrapped her arm around his shaking shoulders, pulled him around until he was burying his face in her neck. He’d be humiliated about crying later, she knew, but she’d worry about smoothing that over once she was done with this problem.
“Hush, hush, Michael, it’s okay,” she whispered, rubbing circles on his back, the way she had when he was a child. “It’s okay, it’s really okay.”
“Okay?” he choked out, sounding rather scandalized.
“Yes. Yes, it’s really okay. Whatever you are, whoever you like, whatever you feel about Francis, whether you’re gay or bi or anything else, it’s really and truly all right. Honestly.”
----
Arthur, age 17
“Do you think you’ll ever come out to your dad?” Merlin asked one night. They were sprawled out in Arthur’s bed, tired and sweaty and naked under the cotton blankets.
“Are you insane?” Arthur asked, levering himself up on one elbow so as to present Merlin with the proper disbelieving stare. “I happen to like being able to stay in this house.”
“But you’re going off to college soon anyway,” Merlin protested, sitting up as well as he could with the sheets tangled round his legs.
“What does that have to do with anything?” Arthur demanded, wondering when they’d started talking in bed like an old married couple. Not that he objected, particularly, but he wished they weren’t talking about this particular topic right now.
“Well, you’d be away from him in college, wouldn’t you?” Merlin asked, frowning. “So you wouldn’t have to put up with his glaring or his lectures or whatever.”
“Yes, but the problem with that, Merlin, is that I cannot go to college if my father is refusing to pay for it.”
“Why would he do that?” And Merlin looked so utterly confused, and also frankly rather ridiculous and sort of adorable with his hair sticking up everywhere, that Arthur wasn’t sure whether to snog him madly or throw something at his head. He settled for flopping back on the pillows in exasperation.
“Because, Merlin, he wouldn’t want to waste money educating his former son who turned out to be a faggot.”
“What are you going on about?”
“Merlin. If I came out to my father, he would disown me without a second thought.” And that didn’t sound nearly as well-adjusted and resigned as it should have done.
“Oh.”
“Yes. Oh.”
“I’m sorry,” the other boy offered unexpectedly, wriggling down under the covers and resting his head against Arthur’s shoulder.
“Yes, well. It is what it is.”
And that is the crux of the matter.