Fic: Burnt Chicken Never Won Fair Lady Part 2/2
Part one found here.
Gwen made her way across the restaurant and stopped in front of the hostess stand, where Morgana was working diligently on that night’s seating chart. Gwen placed an elbow on the stand, allowing it to hold her weight, and Morgana glanced up at her. “You look like you just ran a marathon,” she commented, eyes twinkling.
Gwen made a face. “I had to get away from the Great Dragon.”
“Say no more!” Morgana replied, holding up her hands to indicate her understanding. “Some woman must have stomped on that bitter man’s heart, because he’s still going on about me being a ‘treacherous bitch.’”
Gwen grimaced. “I suppose I should be grateful he doesn’t curse me out when he’s giving me his daily death glare.”
Morgana laughed and looked back down at her sheet. “So,” she began, eyes still downcast, “How’s everything with Arthur?” She allowed her eyes to flick up and take in Gwen’s response, which, unfortunately for Gwen, was rather immediate and revealing.
“Fine,” Gwen managed to squeak, wishing that her cheeks would return to their normal hue. She turned her focus to the table plans. “So it looks like we’re going to have a relatively easy night,” she said in an overly bright tone, trying to sidestep what was sure to be a very uncomfortable conversation.
Morgana blocked Gwen’s view of the seating chart with her forearms and bent over. “Oh, no, you’re not getting off that easily. You were anything but subtle back at my place, and now you’ve been in there with him for - what, an hour? More? When you were just supposed to ‘check in’? Sounds to me like the oven wasn’t the only thing getting turned on.”
“Morgana!” Gwen hissed, frantically looking around to see if anyone had overhead.
“Stop panicking. Nobody cares if you’re shagging him. That includes me, by the way. Granted, scarring as hell, but I’m willing to sacrifice my mental health for your happiness. So long as you are happy,” she added, the fire in her eyes reflecting the danger that faced Arthur if she wasn’t.
“I am not shagging him,” Gwen said in a choked whisper, wondering why Morgana had the need to construe every one of Arthur’s relationships as sexual. “I haven’t even … I mean….” She faded out, not at all sure what she meant. Gwen licked her now dry lips, and despite the voice that told her not to, she muttered, “Your father would care.”
Morgana’s eyes darkened at the name of her father. “That man is-”
“I know, I know,” Gwen sighed. “‘Vile, self-serving, ignorant, a curse on humanity’ - or so you’ve said lately. But it doesn’t change the fact that he has power, Morgana, and that power includes getting me fired if- ”
“Gwen, I would sooner disown him and sell the story to every single newspaper in this country than let him fire you,” she insisted fiercely, eyes alight.
Gwen was reminded of a day many months ago, when Morgana conducted a shouting match with Uther right in the middle of the restaurant. Only a day earlier she had finally cajoled Gwen into admitting how much she was paid, and when Uther had taken her to dinner she had demanded that her father raise the wages of all the employees at Camelot. When he had refused, Morgana had been furious. From that day on, Morgana refused to call Uther any variation of “Father.” Truth be told, Gwen had expected her to run off to some island for a good month or so (as she had after Uther forbade her from becoming an overseas volunteer), but the next day Gwen had arrived at Camelot to find that Morgana had taken up the newly vacant hostess position. That week Gwen’s salary received a fairly sizable bump - as had everyone else’s. Morgana had talked the manager into hiring her, and in exchange for saving Leon the trouble of interviewing potential employees, he agreed to distribute her salary amongst the rest of the staff and hide the fact from his boss.
Between Morgana’s loyalty to Gwen and her desire to distance herself as much as possible from her father, there was no doubt in Gwen’s mind that Morgana would follow through with her threat should the need arise. Even though she had only brought up Uther as a way to distract from discussing her actual feelings, Morgana’s proclamation was a reminder of the volatile situation Gwen could find herself in - or worse, cause.
“Morgana, thank you, but … I don’t like Arthur. Not in … that way.” She awkwardly gestured with her hands, feeling very much like she was back in primary school.
“Oh, yes you do,” Morgana said in a sing-song manner, quickly bouncing back from her anger.
“No, I don’t. And I’m sure the same’s true for him.” The last part wasn’t exactly the truth, but then the first part hadn’t been exactly honest either.
“Don’t be ridiculous,” Morgana laughed, and when Gwen said nothing, Morgana looked at her in disbelief. “Oh, come on! You can object all you want, but you can’t be thick enough not to see that he likes you.”
“What are you going on about?” Gwen asked, heart speeding up. It was one thing if Gwen held some odd delusion about Arthur having feelings for her; it was a completely different matter if Morgana transformed these delusions into certainty.
Morgana shook her head, still not believing that Gwen could be so clueless. “He’s ‘liked’ you since you gave him a verbal smacking several months back. You remember - when he came here and sent his dish back five times?”
And with this information Gwen’s heart rate returned to normal, because what sort of evidence was that? She stared at Morgana, not quite sure whether she was supposed to take her best friend seriously. “That makes absolutely no sense, you do realise that?”
Morgana let out a groan of frustration. “Honestly, between your obliviousness and Arthur’s romantic ineptitude.… Look, you didn’t take his bullshit and you’re the first person to do that. Well, okay, ignoring me, but this isn’t Ancient Egypt, so that’s not on the table.” She screwed up her face at the mere thought.
“So he likes me because I yelled at him and we’re not related?” Gwen asked slowly. She was hardly impressed by this explanation.
Morgana rolled her eyes at what she could only describe as blatant stupidity. “No. It just made him realise that you were ... an equal, for lack of a better term. So now he’s finally noticing you as someone other than my mate who waits tables at his daddy’s restaurant, and from the looks of it, he likes what he sees. At least going by the way he’s insisted on tagging onto our shopping trips with such believable excuses as ‘I need a new tie,’ when that boy hasn’t done his own shopping since … ever, actually.”
Gwen felt lightheaded. As she had feared, Morgana’s words made sense. Why else was she running into Arthur so often? She was fairly certain that, up until a few months ago, Arthur had never even ventured into her side of town, let alone found himself wandering about it at least once a week. But … Arthur Pendragon having feelings for her ... it was absurd!
Wasn’t it?
“The only question remaining,” Morgana continued, ignoring Gwen’s nearly panicked state, “is how you feel about him. And don’t feel pressured to give him a chance because we’re related. Even I’m not enough to make up for his all-around prattiness.”
Gwen tried to make a noise, but could only manage a croak. Mentally hitting herself in the head for acting like such a schoolgirl, she managed to find her voice. “I…” she thought about denying everything, but Morgana would see right through it (hell, she’d already seen right through it). “I don’t know,” she answered honestly, eyes downcast. “I’ve always thought he was a bit of an arrogant pig to be honest, but lately….”
Morgana nodded. “Yeah, I know. Surprising as it is, he actually has a heart once you cut through that thick shell of his.”
Gwen heaved a sigh. If only Merlin hadn’t told her about this stupid, pointless bet. Then she never would have come here to check up on him, and then this never would have happened.… Though, her sensible self couldn’t help but speak up again, clearly you already felt something if you felt the need to see what was going on. You don’t just check up on someone like this to amuse yourself. And while we’re at it, you don’t offer to slave away in the kitchen before your four-hour shift for just anyone.
“Gwen.” Morgana placed her hand over Gwen’s, looking at her seriously. “I know I’ve made some snide comments about Arthur’s feelings for you, but that’s just sisterly - you know, take Arthur down a peg whenever possible. If you do like him, though … just don’t close yourself off because of his last name, okay? And I know,” Morgana said when Gwen opened her mouth to protest. “You’re going to say that you would never do something like that, but I also know you, Gwen, and this is exactly the sort of situation where you’d put yourself down and refuse to believe that he’d even look at you. Just think about what’s happened lately, okay? And once you’re done thinking, kick your brain out the door so it can’t pull you back into that eternal void of self-doubt. And just let things happen.” She squeezed Gwen’s hand. “People can surprise you, and it looks like Arthur already has.”
Gwen swallowed, taking in Morgana’s words. It was rare that Morgana was the sensible one - she was always eloquent, that was for certain, but usually pure emotion fuelled her words. Yet Morgana had managed to figure out Gwen’s exact feelings - something which she hadn’t even known until this very moment - and Gwen couldn’t help but wonder if maybe, just maybe, Morgana knew what she was talking about with the rest of it.
“Gwen?” Morgana asked when Gwen didn’t reply, concern in her voice.
Gwen nodded, licking her lips. She looked up to meet Morgana’s gaze and nodded again. “I should get back.”
“To Arthur?” The side of Morgana’s lip curled into a pleased half-smirk.
“To the kitchen,” Gwen corrected, although her heart skipped a beat.
Morgana nodded, clearly satisfied. “Just remember what I said.” She let go of Gwen’s hand, signalling that it was time for Gwen to go.
Gwen swallowed once more, lips parted ever so slightly and her wide eyes reflecting her fear.
“Stop worrying,” Morgana told her, giving her a small push. “Just breathe. You can’t win over a guy or even figure out if you want to win him over if you’re dead.”
*****
While Morgana was convincing Gwen to take a chance on Arthur, Merlin had abandoned his bartending duties to check up on Arthur (much to Gaius’s chagrin). What he found greatly amused him: Arthur, with several cuts on his fingers, bending over a counter and looking absolutely spent. He had decided to finish up the chicken without Gwen, hoping that cooking the rest on his own would win him points he desperately needed (she had hardly seemed pleased when she ran off). It was barely an exaggeration to say he had almost killed himself in the process.
Merlin strolled over to him. “If you don’t finish up soon you’ll have a restaurant full of people to bear witness to this tragedy.”
“I’m working on it,” Arthur groaned, and he slowly raised his arm to point in the direction of the oven. “It takes a while to cook a whole chicken, you know.”
“I know, but I didn’t think you did.”
“And what,” Arthur bristled, energy returning to him at Merlin’s slight, “do you mean by that?”
“Well, last time I checked you could barely operate a microwave without my help.”
“That is absolute rubbish.”
“You couldn’t find the power button!”
“Because your grubby fingers had covered it with peanut butter!”
Merlin raised an eyebrow. “You’re really sticking to that story?”
Arthur glared at him. “Is there something you want, Merlin? Other than to give me a migraine?”
“Oh, no, that was it,” Merlin said brightly. “Though I am curious about what Gwen is doing here.”
“You sent her, remember?”
“Yeah, to see what you were doing. But that doesn’t take an hour.”
Arthur shifted uncomfortably in his place. Revealing the truth would result in not only losing the bet but also Merlin insinuating that something was going on with Gwen. Which was true. Sort of. True as in Arthur wished something was going on. But he didn’t want Merlin knowing that - the little bugger wouldn’t shut up about it if he found out. “We were ... talking,” he said finally.
“Talking?” Merlin repeated sceptically.
“Yes, Merlin, talking. Have you ever tried using those large ears of yours to listen?”
“So things are working out between the two of you?” Merlin asked airily, ignoring Arthur’s jibe.
“Actually, things are- Wait, what’re you talking about?”
“Really?” Merlin demanded, throwing his hands up in frustration. “This past month you’ve mentioned Gwen’s name at least ten times a day, and that’s not including when someone else brought her up, in which case- ”
“You’ve been counting?” Arthur demanded. “What sort of demented person spends their day counting how many times someone mentions some girl’s name?”
“What sort of demented person spends their day figuring out ways to ‘accidentally’ bump into ‘some girl’?” Merlin countered.
“How did you ...?”
“You mean apart from the fact that you’re always talking about needing to run an errand in a place where Gwen happens to be instead of telling me to go buy whatever it is you ‘need’ like you usually do?”
“I do not tell you- ” Another raised eyebrow stopped Arthur in his tracks. “All right, so maybe I do every once in a while, but only because you need the exercise. That doesn’t mean- ”
“Just give up already, Arthur! You pretty much fall over yourself whenever she’s around. I’m not an idiot.”
“You sure about that?” Arthur crossed his arms against his chest.
Merlin rolled his eyes. “Fine, deny it. But just so you know, whatever your ridiculous strategy is, it’s working.”
Arthur’s eyes lit up and he momentarily forgot himself. “Is it?” he asked eagerly. Gwen’s state when she had run out had convinced him of quite the opposite.
Merlin nodded, inwardly amused by Arthur’s enthusiasm. “If her oddly distracted nature is anything to go by, I’d say it’s definitely working. Just thought you should know. Even though you clearly couldn’t care less.” He shot Arthur a knowing look before turning around and leaving. Arthur knew he should have been annoyed with Merlin for his presumptuous attitude, but instead he found himself floating on air. Merlin’s words repeated in his head. Never before had the word “distracted” meant so much to him.
*****
The walk to the hall felt like an eternity, and Gwen was certain that everyone at the bar was staring at her. But eventually she made it, and once the door closed behind her she leant up against the wall, taking a moment to gather her wits and breathe as per Morgana’s instructions. She wrinkled her nose at a smell she couldn’t quite place, but figured it was just her anxieties manifesting themselves in smell.
What Morgana had said about her doubting her worth to a man like Arthur was absolutely true, and it was also true that she would use that as an excuse to hide her feelings. But the question remained: did she even have those feelings? She closed her eyes. Arthur was a prat - everyone knew it and no one denied it. But he was also sweet, brave, and, when you finally became acquainted with him outside of his social circle, noble - like a knight children read about in storybooks. And this was the side of Arthur that Gwen had seen in the past few months. Sure, he still teased Merlin incessantly and pushed Morgana’s buttons whenever possible, but Gwen was beginning to see that this wasn’t out of arrogance - it was because he truly cared. And not only about them. She had witnessed firsthand how Arthur stood by his convictions; how he protected everyone, even complete strangers. Arthur, Gwen now knew, was one of the good guys, the one in films whom you always rooted for to save the day and “get the girl.”
Except this time she was the girl, which complicated matters just a bit.
Gwen had absolutely no clue what she would say when she entered those kitchen doors, but she did know that there was potential for something - whether that something would be friendship or something else entirely, she’d have to find out. She clenched her fingers into two fists, steeling herself for her entrance. It was at that precise moment when fate decided to interfere and the fire alarm went off, and Gwen realised that the odd smell she had blamed on her manifested anxiety was smoke.
“Arthur,” she whispered, her insides twisting once again, and this time she knew for certain it was out of fear. For a moment Gwen struggled, wondering if she should make sure Arthur was all right or help evacuate the restaurant. Knowing that Arthur could take care of himself, the public masses won out, and with a regretful glance back at the kitchen doors she raced out in the opposite direction. To her relief, Morgana, Merlin, and Gaius seemed to already have the situation under control. Gaius held the restaurant doors open as one customer after another rushed out, while Merlin aided an elderly man across the floor. Morgana stood at the centre of it all, managing to make her voice heard over the blaring of the alarm: “Please make your way safely to the exit. Safely, I said! Stop pushing!”
Positive that the three had the situation under control, Gwen turned back around before she could be spotted and finally entered the kitchen, just in time to see Arthur filling a pitcher with water. Gwen quickly took in the scene, realizing that the fire was coming from the oven, and Oh my God, is the chicken on fire? Gwen didn’t even bother to figure out why Arthur had decided to cook the chicken - there would be plenty of time for that later. Right now, there were more important things to deal with - preventing Arthur from burning down the entire building, for one.
“IT’S A GREASE FIRE!” she tried to call over the sound of the piercing alarm.
Arthur looked up at the sound of Gwen’s voice, but clearly he hadn’t heard her. “WHAT?”
“GREASE. FIRE,” Gwen screamed, feeling her throat turn raw from the mixture of yelling and the inhalation of smoke. How had Morgana done it? “DON’T USE WATER!”
Arthur wrinkled his brow, and Gwen had to grit her teeth to suppress her frustration. Clearly this wasn’t working. She raced over to where the silver fire extinguisher hung in the corner. In what felt like a single movement she grabbed it, turned around, and pointed it at the open oven, spraying the chicken and Arthur in white chemical foam.
Within moments the fire was no more. Gwen, panting slightly, placed the fire extinguisher down. She stood back up, staring blankly in front of her as she tried to process what had just happened.
Arthur was saying something to her, but it seemed only Morgana possessed the rare skill to make herself heard over the screaming alarm. Before Gwen knew what was happening, Arthur grabbed her hand and led the confounded young woman out the back door and into the nearby alley. The door shut behind them, and while the piercing shrieks were still audible, they were muffled enough that the two could carry on a conversation.
“You okay?” Arthur asked, breathless.
Gwen blinked in shock. “Me?” she asked, staring widely at his dishevelled appearance. “What about you?”
Arthur waved his hand. “I’m fine. I’m clearly an idiot, but I’m fine.” So much for his plan to impress Gwen with his ability to take initiative.
“What happened?” Gwen asked, desperate to fill in the gap between when she left and when Arthur set the restaurant on fire.
“I, er, I tried to cook the chicken on my own. I looked it up on my phone and it said to set the oven to 180, but I figured you didn’t want to wait around for hours when you could be relaxing before work, so I set it at the highest setting to make it cook faster. I was keeping my eye on it, but then Merlin came in and started badgering me, and the next thing I knew … it caught … I’m sorry, but what’s so funny?” Arthur demanded, as Gwen had burst into a fit of uncontrollable laughter.
“I’m sorry … I … God, no, this isn’t funny. It isn’t… I just … ” She bent down, her hands on her knees, and took several deep breaths to calm down. “You set the oven to its highest setting? For the entire time?” She looked up at Arthur for a response.
“Well, yeah, was that … was that wrong?” In the distance they could hear the siren of fire trucks. “Okay, obviously it was, but what- ”
“It should’ve been cooking at no higher than 200,” Gwen said kindly as she straightened up again. “No one in their right mind cooks higher than that - let alone when cooking a chicken. Even if you were keeping a close eye on it, which with Merlin in there with you I’m guessing you weren’t, something could’ve - would have - happened. The first rule of cooking: never take a short cut by turning up the heat. It never works. And usually results in disaster.” As she uttered the word “disaster,” Gwen was struck by everything that had happened in the last few hours. The hilarity of what had passed - the pure ridiculousness of it all - was too much. From Arthur cooking to what she was now certain had been an almost-kiss to the kitchen of one of the most expensive restaurants in all of Britain nearly burning down…. She slid to the ground, her back against the brick wall of the building, unable to support herself through her third round of laughter. “Chicken … paprika … fire …” She stopped, realizing that Arthur could take her reaction as an insult, but when she glanced up she found that Arthur had joined in her laughter. “I’m afraid you really are hopeless when it comes to cooking,” she told him affectionately. She tucked her legs underneath her.
“I am not!” Arthur objected, looking offended but smiling all the same. He sat down next to her.
“You’ll get dirt on your clothes,” Gwen warned.
“I’m fairly certain my clothes are officially un-wearable anyway.” He pointed at the soot and white foam that sprinkled his shirt.
“Sorry about that,” Gwen said, throwing him a guilty look.
“And I’m sorry for setting the restaurant on fire,” Arthur smiled at her. Instinctively, Gwen buried her face into his shoulder to smother another round of hysterics.
*****
Morgana watched with a satisfied grin as Arthur and Gwen conversed in the back alley. Sure, Arthur had set another kitchen on fire, but if - after months of Arthur all but stalking Gwen and Gwen ignoring every feeling that came her way - they had managed to get their act together, then it had been worth it. Of course it helped that no one had been hurt and that Morgana could file away this fire for future blackmail.
“They’re finally getting somewhere, are they?” Merlin asked as he came to stand beside her.
Merlin’s words struck a chord with Morgana. She turned, narrowing her eyes at him. “You didn’t really want to see if Arthur could cook, did you?” she asked.
“Nah, just needed an excuse to get those two alone together. I figured if Gwen heard about the bet she couldn’t resist helping him. I was getting sick of Arthur spending all of his time chasing after Gwen or figuring out new ways to … chase after Gwen. Don’t get me wrong,” Merlin added quickly, “it was amusing watching him run around without the faintest idea what to do, but there’s only so much one can take. It’s about time they stopped staring at each other and did something.” He smiled fondly at the two in the distance.
“Well,” Morgana said, wrapping her arm around his shoulders and leaning in, “while I commend you on a sly scheme that probably earned you a nice sum of money, you do realise that now Arthur’s just going to spend all of his time dating Gwen, trying to figure out ways to spend more time with her, or generally fretting about their relationship, don’t you?”
From the corner of her eye Morgana saw Merlin pale. “… Shit.”
*****
“Looks like Merlin won the bet.”
“Mmm, ‘fraid so,” Gwen agreed, her head still resting on Arthur’s shoulder. “Burnt chicken à la foam won’t exactly cut it.” She looked up at Arthur to find him staring at her in return, their faces separated by mere inches. It was the moment in the kitchen all over again.
This is when we’re supposed to kiss, she thought, at least if movie night with Morgana had taught her anything. According to every romantic comedy to ever grace her friend’s giant flat screen, this was the moment to throw caution to the wind and plant her lips on his. But it was dizzying - all of it. Arthur and his eyes and feelings that made her heart pound. She wanted to take a step forward - she knew that now - but her brain hadn’t quite caught up with her heart.
So she settled on a middle ground.
Before Arthur could take initiative and do what those bloody films demanded, Gwen shifted her head away from him. “Have dinner with me?” The words came out jumbled - a combination of rushing and the fear that she may never again have the chance (the courage) to ask. It might have been the middle ground, but it didn’t make it any less frightening.
Arthur’s eyes widened. Gwen couldn’t tell if his shock was out of delight or absolute horror. “Dinner?” he repeated. “As in …?”
“Well, uh, that was the, you know, the general idea,” she said, sitting on her heels to distance herself from him even further now that rejection was in her possible future. “But if you’d rather it just be a … a … two-friends-eating-together or even two-people-happening-to-eat-dinner-at-the-same-time-in-the-same-place thing- ”
Arthur interjected before Gwen could work herself into a state: “Dinner sounds ... great - amazing actually. I just … ” He looked anxious. “This dinner … I wouldn’t have to cook anything … right?”
Gwen paled at the very idea. “No. Absolutely not. After today … never again. There are only so many kitchens the world can spare.” Arthur chuckled appreciatively at her dig. Emboldened, Gwen continued, “I was thinking we could go out for dinner. Not Camelot, obviously, and probably somewhere cheap,” she said apologetically, “but … somewhere.”
“Yeah, that ... I’d like that.” Arthur was beaming - actually beaming - and it was contagious. Gwen felt her nerves leave her in a breathless laugh, and she was certain the giddy smile that had taken residence on her face would likely last the next several days.
*****
A week later, Arthur met Gwen outside her uni, this time without any “pseudo-stalking” as Merlin so kindly called it. (It had been a pleasant surprise to discover that ringing Gwen was much simpler than eaves dropping on Morgana’s phone conversations and trying to deduce Gwen’s plans based on one side of the conversation.)
They walked to a nearby restaurant for an early dinner, chatting about their past week on the way there (Gwen about the paper she was researching, Arthur about the latest scandal at his father’s company and Merlin’s “nauseating” reaction to winning the 100 pounds). Gwen had chosen a nice but low-key brasserie located on a side street, and the host showed them to a table by the window. On instinct, Arthur pulled out Gwen’s chair, and Gwen blushed furiously at the gesture (all the while grateful that Arthur was busy getting settled himself).
It wasn’t until they had already ordered a bottle of wine that they learnt the night’s special was chicken. The two turned to each other, caught between fleeing the brasserie and damaging an organ with laughter.
In the end, they stayed at the restaurant (all organs still intact).
They both had the cod.
Gwen made her way across the restaurant and stopped in front of the hostess stand, where Morgana was working diligently on that night’s seating chart. Gwen placed an elbow on the stand, allowing it to hold her weight, and Morgana glanced up at her. “You look like you just ran a marathon,” she commented, eyes twinkling.
Gwen made a face. “I had to get away from the Great Dragon.”
“Say no more!” Morgana replied, holding up her hands to indicate her understanding. “Some woman must have stomped on that bitter man’s heart, because he’s still going on about me being a ‘treacherous bitch.’”
Gwen grimaced. “I suppose I should be grateful he doesn’t curse me out when he’s giving me his daily death glare.”
Morgana laughed and looked back down at her sheet. “So,” she began, eyes still downcast, “How’s everything with Arthur?” She allowed her eyes to flick up and take in Gwen’s response, which, unfortunately for Gwen, was rather immediate and revealing.
“Fine,” Gwen managed to squeak, wishing that her cheeks would return to their normal hue. She turned her focus to the table plans. “So it looks like we’re going to have a relatively easy night,” she said in an overly bright tone, trying to sidestep what was sure to be a very uncomfortable conversation.
Morgana blocked Gwen’s view of the seating chart with her forearms and bent over. “Oh, no, you’re not getting off that easily. You were anything but subtle back at my place, and now you’ve been in there with him for - what, an hour? More? When you were just supposed to ‘check in’? Sounds to me like the oven wasn’t the only thing getting turned on.”
“Morgana!” Gwen hissed, frantically looking around to see if anyone had overhead.
“Stop panicking. Nobody cares if you’re shagging him. That includes me, by the way. Granted, scarring as hell, but I’m willing to sacrifice my mental health for your happiness. So long as you are happy,” she added, the fire in her eyes reflecting the danger that faced Arthur if she wasn’t.
“I am not shagging him,” Gwen said in a choked whisper, wondering why Morgana had the need to construe every one of Arthur’s relationships as sexual. “I haven’t even … I mean….” She faded out, not at all sure what she meant. Gwen licked her now dry lips, and despite the voice that told her not to, she muttered, “Your father would care.”
Morgana’s eyes darkened at the name of her father. “That man is-”
“I know, I know,” Gwen sighed. “‘Vile, self-serving, ignorant, a curse on humanity’ - or so you’ve said lately. But it doesn’t change the fact that he has power, Morgana, and that power includes getting me fired if- ”
“Gwen, I would sooner disown him and sell the story to every single newspaper in this country than let him fire you,” she insisted fiercely, eyes alight.
Gwen was reminded of a day many months ago, when Morgana conducted a shouting match with Uther right in the middle of the restaurant. Only a day earlier she had finally cajoled Gwen into admitting how much she was paid, and when Uther had taken her to dinner she had demanded that her father raise the wages of all the employees at Camelot. When he had refused, Morgana had been furious. From that day on, Morgana refused to call Uther any variation of “Father.” Truth be told, Gwen had expected her to run off to some island for a good month or so (as she had after Uther forbade her from becoming an overseas volunteer), but the next day Gwen had arrived at Camelot to find that Morgana had taken up the newly vacant hostess position. That week Gwen’s salary received a fairly sizable bump - as had everyone else’s. Morgana had talked the manager into hiring her, and in exchange for saving Leon the trouble of interviewing potential employees, he agreed to distribute her salary amongst the rest of the staff and hide the fact from his boss.
Between Morgana’s loyalty to Gwen and her desire to distance herself as much as possible from her father, there was no doubt in Gwen’s mind that Morgana would follow through with her threat should the need arise. Even though she had only brought up Uther as a way to distract from discussing her actual feelings, Morgana’s proclamation was a reminder of the volatile situation Gwen could find herself in - or worse, cause.
“Morgana, thank you, but … I don’t like Arthur. Not in … that way.” She awkwardly gestured with her hands, feeling very much like she was back in primary school.
“Oh, yes you do,” Morgana said in a sing-song manner, quickly bouncing back from her anger.
“No, I don’t. And I’m sure the same’s true for him.” The last part wasn’t exactly the truth, but then the first part hadn’t been exactly honest either.
“Don’t be ridiculous,” Morgana laughed, and when Gwen said nothing, Morgana looked at her in disbelief. “Oh, come on! You can object all you want, but you can’t be thick enough not to see that he likes you.”
“What are you going on about?” Gwen asked, heart speeding up. It was one thing if Gwen held some odd delusion about Arthur having feelings for her; it was a completely different matter if Morgana transformed these delusions into certainty.
Morgana shook her head, still not believing that Gwen could be so clueless. “He’s ‘liked’ you since you gave him a verbal smacking several months back. You remember - when he came here and sent his dish back five times?”
And with this information Gwen’s heart rate returned to normal, because what sort of evidence was that? She stared at Morgana, not quite sure whether she was supposed to take her best friend seriously. “That makes absolutely no sense, you do realise that?”
Morgana let out a groan of frustration. “Honestly, between your obliviousness and Arthur’s romantic ineptitude.… Look, you didn’t take his bullshit and you’re the first person to do that. Well, okay, ignoring me, but this isn’t Ancient Egypt, so that’s not on the table.” She screwed up her face at the mere thought.
“So he likes me because I yelled at him and we’re not related?” Gwen asked slowly. She was hardly impressed by this explanation.
Morgana rolled her eyes at what she could only describe as blatant stupidity. “No. It just made him realise that you were ... an equal, for lack of a better term. So now he’s finally noticing you as someone other than my mate who waits tables at his daddy’s restaurant, and from the looks of it, he likes what he sees. At least going by the way he’s insisted on tagging onto our shopping trips with such believable excuses as ‘I need a new tie,’ when that boy hasn’t done his own shopping since … ever, actually.”
Gwen felt lightheaded. As she had feared, Morgana’s words made sense. Why else was she running into Arthur so often? She was fairly certain that, up until a few months ago, Arthur had never even ventured into her side of town, let alone found himself wandering about it at least once a week. But … Arthur Pendragon having feelings for her ... it was absurd!
Wasn’t it?
“The only question remaining,” Morgana continued, ignoring Gwen’s nearly panicked state, “is how you feel about him. And don’t feel pressured to give him a chance because we’re related. Even I’m not enough to make up for his all-around prattiness.”
Gwen tried to make a noise, but could only manage a croak. Mentally hitting herself in the head for acting like such a schoolgirl, she managed to find her voice. “I…” she thought about denying everything, but Morgana would see right through it (hell, she’d already seen right through it). “I don’t know,” she answered honestly, eyes downcast. “I’ve always thought he was a bit of an arrogant pig to be honest, but lately….”
Morgana nodded. “Yeah, I know. Surprising as it is, he actually has a heart once you cut through that thick shell of his.”
Gwen heaved a sigh. If only Merlin hadn’t told her about this stupid, pointless bet. Then she never would have come here to check up on him, and then this never would have happened.… Though, her sensible self couldn’t help but speak up again, clearly you already felt something if you felt the need to see what was going on. You don’t just check up on someone like this to amuse yourself. And while we’re at it, you don’t offer to slave away in the kitchen before your four-hour shift for just anyone.
“Gwen.” Morgana placed her hand over Gwen’s, looking at her seriously. “I know I’ve made some snide comments about Arthur’s feelings for you, but that’s just sisterly - you know, take Arthur down a peg whenever possible. If you do like him, though … just don’t close yourself off because of his last name, okay? And I know,” Morgana said when Gwen opened her mouth to protest. “You’re going to say that you would never do something like that, but I also know you, Gwen, and this is exactly the sort of situation where you’d put yourself down and refuse to believe that he’d even look at you. Just think about what’s happened lately, okay? And once you’re done thinking, kick your brain out the door so it can’t pull you back into that eternal void of self-doubt. And just let things happen.” She squeezed Gwen’s hand. “People can surprise you, and it looks like Arthur already has.”
Gwen swallowed, taking in Morgana’s words. It was rare that Morgana was the sensible one - she was always eloquent, that was for certain, but usually pure emotion fuelled her words. Yet Morgana had managed to figure out Gwen’s exact feelings - something which she hadn’t even known until this very moment - and Gwen couldn’t help but wonder if maybe, just maybe, Morgana knew what she was talking about with the rest of it.
“Gwen?” Morgana asked when Gwen didn’t reply, concern in her voice.
Gwen nodded, licking her lips. She looked up to meet Morgana’s gaze and nodded again. “I should get back.”
“To Arthur?” The side of Morgana’s lip curled into a pleased half-smirk.
“To the kitchen,” Gwen corrected, although her heart skipped a beat.
Morgana nodded, clearly satisfied. “Just remember what I said.” She let go of Gwen’s hand, signalling that it was time for Gwen to go.
Gwen swallowed once more, lips parted ever so slightly and her wide eyes reflecting her fear.
“Stop worrying,” Morgana told her, giving her a small push. “Just breathe. You can’t win over a guy or even figure out if you want to win him over if you’re dead.”
*****
While Morgana was convincing Gwen to take a chance on Arthur, Merlin had abandoned his bartending duties to check up on Arthur (much to Gaius’s chagrin). What he found greatly amused him: Arthur, with several cuts on his fingers, bending over a counter and looking absolutely spent. He had decided to finish up the chicken without Gwen, hoping that cooking the rest on his own would win him points he desperately needed (she had hardly seemed pleased when she ran off). It was barely an exaggeration to say he had almost killed himself in the process.
Merlin strolled over to him. “If you don’t finish up soon you’ll have a restaurant full of people to bear witness to this tragedy.”
“I’m working on it,” Arthur groaned, and he slowly raised his arm to point in the direction of the oven. “It takes a while to cook a whole chicken, you know.”
“I know, but I didn’t think you did.”
“And what,” Arthur bristled, energy returning to him at Merlin’s slight, “do you mean by that?”
“Well, last time I checked you could barely operate a microwave without my help.”
“That is absolute rubbish.”
“You couldn’t find the power button!”
“Because your grubby fingers had covered it with peanut butter!”
Merlin raised an eyebrow. “You’re really sticking to that story?”
Arthur glared at him. “Is there something you want, Merlin? Other than to give me a migraine?”
“Oh, no, that was it,” Merlin said brightly. “Though I am curious about what Gwen is doing here.”
“You sent her, remember?”
“Yeah, to see what you were doing. But that doesn’t take an hour.”
Arthur shifted uncomfortably in his place. Revealing the truth would result in not only losing the bet but also Merlin insinuating that something was going on with Gwen. Which was true. Sort of. True as in Arthur wished something was going on. But he didn’t want Merlin knowing that - the little bugger wouldn’t shut up about it if he found out. “We were ... talking,” he said finally.
“Talking?” Merlin repeated sceptically.
“Yes, Merlin, talking. Have you ever tried using those large ears of yours to listen?”
“So things are working out between the two of you?” Merlin asked airily, ignoring Arthur’s jibe.
“Actually, things are- Wait, what’re you talking about?”
“Really?” Merlin demanded, throwing his hands up in frustration. “This past month you’ve mentioned Gwen’s name at least ten times a day, and that’s not including when someone else brought her up, in which case- ”
“You’ve been counting?” Arthur demanded. “What sort of demented person spends their day counting how many times someone mentions some girl’s name?”
“What sort of demented person spends their day figuring out ways to ‘accidentally’ bump into ‘some girl’?” Merlin countered.
“How did you ...?”
“You mean apart from the fact that you’re always talking about needing to run an errand in a place where Gwen happens to be instead of telling me to go buy whatever it is you ‘need’ like you usually do?”
“I do not tell you- ” Another raised eyebrow stopped Arthur in his tracks. “All right, so maybe I do every once in a while, but only because you need the exercise. That doesn’t mean- ”
“Just give up already, Arthur! You pretty much fall over yourself whenever she’s around. I’m not an idiot.”
“You sure about that?” Arthur crossed his arms against his chest.
Merlin rolled his eyes. “Fine, deny it. But just so you know, whatever your ridiculous strategy is, it’s working.”
Arthur’s eyes lit up and he momentarily forgot himself. “Is it?” he asked eagerly. Gwen’s state when she had run out had convinced him of quite the opposite.
Merlin nodded, inwardly amused by Arthur’s enthusiasm. “If her oddly distracted nature is anything to go by, I’d say it’s definitely working. Just thought you should know. Even though you clearly couldn’t care less.” He shot Arthur a knowing look before turning around and leaving. Arthur knew he should have been annoyed with Merlin for his presumptuous attitude, but instead he found himself floating on air. Merlin’s words repeated in his head. Never before had the word “distracted” meant so much to him.
*****
The walk to the hall felt like an eternity, and Gwen was certain that everyone at the bar was staring at her. But eventually she made it, and once the door closed behind her she leant up against the wall, taking a moment to gather her wits and breathe as per Morgana’s instructions. She wrinkled her nose at a smell she couldn’t quite place, but figured it was just her anxieties manifesting themselves in smell.
What Morgana had said about her doubting her worth to a man like Arthur was absolutely true, and it was also true that she would use that as an excuse to hide her feelings. But the question remained: did she even have those feelings? She closed her eyes. Arthur was a prat - everyone knew it and no one denied it. But he was also sweet, brave, and, when you finally became acquainted with him outside of his social circle, noble - like a knight children read about in storybooks. And this was the side of Arthur that Gwen had seen in the past few months. Sure, he still teased Merlin incessantly and pushed Morgana’s buttons whenever possible, but Gwen was beginning to see that this wasn’t out of arrogance - it was because he truly cared. And not only about them. She had witnessed firsthand how Arthur stood by his convictions; how he protected everyone, even complete strangers. Arthur, Gwen now knew, was one of the good guys, the one in films whom you always rooted for to save the day and “get the girl.”
Except this time she was the girl, which complicated matters just a bit.
Gwen had absolutely no clue what she would say when she entered those kitchen doors, but she did know that there was potential for something - whether that something would be friendship or something else entirely, she’d have to find out. She clenched her fingers into two fists, steeling herself for her entrance. It was at that precise moment when fate decided to interfere and the fire alarm went off, and Gwen realised that the odd smell she had blamed on her manifested anxiety was smoke.
“Arthur,” she whispered, her insides twisting once again, and this time she knew for certain it was out of fear. For a moment Gwen struggled, wondering if she should make sure Arthur was all right or help evacuate the restaurant. Knowing that Arthur could take care of himself, the public masses won out, and with a regretful glance back at the kitchen doors she raced out in the opposite direction. To her relief, Morgana, Merlin, and Gaius seemed to already have the situation under control. Gaius held the restaurant doors open as one customer after another rushed out, while Merlin aided an elderly man across the floor. Morgana stood at the centre of it all, managing to make her voice heard over the blaring of the alarm: “Please make your way safely to the exit. Safely, I said! Stop pushing!”
Positive that the three had the situation under control, Gwen turned back around before she could be spotted and finally entered the kitchen, just in time to see Arthur filling a pitcher with water. Gwen quickly took in the scene, realizing that the fire was coming from the oven, and Oh my God, is the chicken on fire? Gwen didn’t even bother to figure out why Arthur had decided to cook the chicken - there would be plenty of time for that later. Right now, there were more important things to deal with - preventing Arthur from burning down the entire building, for one.
“IT’S A GREASE FIRE!” she tried to call over the sound of the piercing alarm.
Arthur looked up at the sound of Gwen’s voice, but clearly he hadn’t heard her. “WHAT?”
“GREASE. FIRE,” Gwen screamed, feeling her throat turn raw from the mixture of yelling and the inhalation of smoke. How had Morgana done it? “DON’T USE WATER!”
Arthur wrinkled his brow, and Gwen had to grit her teeth to suppress her frustration. Clearly this wasn’t working. She raced over to where the silver fire extinguisher hung in the corner. In what felt like a single movement she grabbed it, turned around, and pointed it at the open oven, spraying the chicken and Arthur in white chemical foam.
Within moments the fire was no more. Gwen, panting slightly, placed the fire extinguisher down. She stood back up, staring blankly in front of her as she tried to process what had just happened.
Arthur was saying something to her, but it seemed only Morgana possessed the rare skill to make herself heard over the screaming alarm. Before Gwen knew what was happening, Arthur grabbed her hand and led the confounded young woman out the back door and into the nearby alley. The door shut behind them, and while the piercing shrieks were still audible, they were muffled enough that the two could carry on a conversation.
“You okay?” Arthur asked, breathless.
Gwen blinked in shock. “Me?” she asked, staring widely at his dishevelled appearance. “What about you?”
Arthur waved his hand. “I’m fine. I’m clearly an idiot, but I’m fine.” So much for his plan to impress Gwen with his ability to take initiative.
“What happened?” Gwen asked, desperate to fill in the gap between when she left and when Arthur set the restaurant on fire.
“I, er, I tried to cook the chicken on my own. I looked it up on my phone and it said to set the oven to 180, but I figured you didn’t want to wait around for hours when you could be relaxing before work, so I set it at the highest setting to make it cook faster. I was keeping my eye on it, but then Merlin came in and started badgering me, and the next thing I knew … it caught … I’m sorry, but what’s so funny?” Arthur demanded, as Gwen had burst into a fit of uncontrollable laughter.
“I’m sorry … I … God, no, this isn’t funny. It isn’t… I just … ” She bent down, her hands on her knees, and took several deep breaths to calm down. “You set the oven to its highest setting? For the entire time?” She looked up at Arthur for a response.
“Well, yeah, was that … was that wrong?” In the distance they could hear the siren of fire trucks. “Okay, obviously it was, but what- ”
“It should’ve been cooking at no higher than 200,” Gwen said kindly as she straightened up again. “No one in their right mind cooks higher than that - let alone when cooking a chicken. Even if you were keeping a close eye on it, which with Merlin in there with you I’m guessing you weren’t, something could’ve - would have - happened. The first rule of cooking: never take a short cut by turning up the heat. It never works. And usually results in disaster.” As she uttered the word “disaster,” Gwen was struck by everything that had happened in the last few hours. The hilarity of what had passed - the pure ridiculousness of it all - was too much. From Arthur cooking to what she was now certain had been an almost-kiss to the kitchen of one of the most expensive restaurants in all of Britain nearly burning down…. She slid to the ground, her back against the brick wall of the building, unable to support herself through her third round of laughter. “Chicken … paprika … fire …” She stopped, realizing that Arthur could take her reaction as an insult, but when she glanced up she found that Arthur had joined in her laughter. “I’m afraid you really are hopeless when it comes to cooking,” she told him affectionately. She tucked her legs underneath her.
“I am not!” Arthur objected, looking offended but smiling all the same. He sat down next to her.
“You’ll get dirt on your clothes,” Gwen warned.
“I’m fairly certain my clothes are officially un-wearable anyway.” He pointed at the soot and white foam that sprinkled his shirt.
“Sorry about that,” Gwen said, throwing him a guilty look.
“And I’m sorry for setting the restaurant on fire,” Arthur smiled at her. Instinctively, Gwen buried her face into his shoulder to smother another round of hysterics.
*****
Morgana watched with a satisfied grin as Arthur and Gwen conversed in the back alley. Sure, Arthur had set another kitchen on fire, but if - after months of Arthur all but stalking Gwen and Gwen ignoring every feeling that came her way - they had managed to get their act together, then it had been worth it. Of course it helped that no one had been hurt and that Morgana could file away this fire for future blackmail.
“They’re finally getting somewhere, are they?” Merlin asked as he came to stand beside her.
Merlin’s words struck a chord with Morgana. She turned, narrowing her eyes at him. “You didn’t really want to see if Arthur could cook, did you?” she asked.
“Nah, just needed an excuse to get those two alone together. I figured if Gwen heard about the bet she couldn’t resist helping him. I was getting sick of Arthur spending all of his time chasing after Gwen or figuring out new ways to … chase after Gwen. Don’t get me wrong,” Merlin added quickly, “it was amusing watching him run around without the faintest idea what to do, but there’s only so much one can take. It’s about time they stopped staring at each other and did something.” He smiled fondly at the two in the distance.
“Well,” Morgana said, wrapping her arm around his shoulders and leaning in, “while I commend you on a sly scheme that probably earned you a nice sum of money, you do realise that now Arthur’s just going to spend all of his time dating Gwen, trying to figure out ways to spend more time with her, or generally fretting about their relationship, don’t you?”
From the corner of her eye Morgana saw Merlin pale. “… Shit.”
*****
“Looks like Merlin won the bet.”
“Mmm, ‘fraid so,” Gwen agreed, her head still resting on Arthur’s shoulder. “Burnt chicken à la foam won’t exactly cut it.” She looked up at Arthur to find him staring at her in return, their faces separated by mere inches. It was the moment in the kitchen all over again.
This is when we’re supposed to kiss, she thought, at least if movie night with Morgana had taught her anything. According to every romantic comedy to ever grace her friend’s giant flat screen, this was the moment to throw caution to the wind and plant her lips on his. But it was dizzying - all of it. Arthur and his eyes and feelings that made her heart pound. She wanted to take a step forward - she knew that now - but her brain hadn’t quite caught up with her heart.
So she settled on a middle ground.
Before Arthur could take initiative and do what those bloody films demanded, Gwen shifted her head away from him. “Have dinner with me?” The words came out jumbled - a combination of rushing and the fear that she may never again have the chance (the courage) to ask. It might have been the middle ground, but it didn’t make it any less frightening.
Arthur’s eyes widened. Gwen couldn’t tell if his shock was out of delight or absolute horror. “Dinner?” he repeated. “As in …?”
“Well, uh, that was the, you know, the general idea,” she said, sitting on her heels to distance herself from him even further now that rejection was in her possible future. “But if you’d rather it just be a … a … two-friends-eating-together or even two-people-happening-to-eat-dinner-at-the-same-time-in-the-same-place thing- ”
Arthur interjected before Gwen could work herself into a state: “Dinner sounds ... great - amazing actually. I just … ” He looked anxious. “This dinner … I wouldn’t have to cook anything … right?”
Gwen paled at the very idea. “No. Absolutely not. After today … never again. There are only so many kitchens the world can spare.” Arthur chuckled appreciatively at her dig. Emboldened, Gwen continued, “I was thinking we could go out for dinner. Not Camelot, obviously, and probably somewhere cheap,” she said apologetically, “but … somewhere.”
“Yeah, that ... I’d like that.” Arthur was beaming - actually beaming - and it was contagious. Gwen felt her nerves leave her in a breathless laugh, and she was certain the giddy smile that had taken residence on her face would likely last the next several days.
*****
A week later, Arthur met Gwen outside her uni, this time without any “pseudo-stalking” as Merlin so kindly called it. (It had been a pleasant surprise to discover that ringing Gwen was much simpler than eaves dropping on Morgana’s phone conversations and trying to deduce Gwen’s plans based on one side of the conversation.)
They walked to a nearby restaurant for an early dinner, chatting about their past week on the way there (Gwen about the paper she was researching, Arthur about the latest scandal at his father’s company and Merlin’s “nauseating” reaction to winning the 100 pounds). Gwen had chosen a nice but low-key brasserie located on a side street, and the host showed them to a table by the window. On instinct, Arthur pulled out Gwen’s chair, and Gwen blushed furiously at the gesture (all the while grateful that Arthur was busy getting settled himself).
It wasn’t until they had already ordered a bottle of wine that they learnt the night’s special was chicken. The two turned to each other, caught between fleeing the brasserie and damaging an organ with laughter.
In the end, they stayed at the restaurant (all organs still intact).
They both had the cod.