"I'm in love with the woman who tends the plants."
Merlin stares at Arthur, wondering if he's slipped into some sort of parallel dimension. "What?" he asks. "You called me in here to tell me that?"
"I'm serious, Merlin," he says, his head dropping into his hands. "I can't stop thinking about her."
"Do you even know her name?" Merlin challenges.
Arthur's brow furrows. "It's something simple. Short. Lynn? Jen. No. Gwen," he finally finds the right one. "Gwen," he repeats. He looks at Merlin. "Do you suppose that's short for something, like Gwendolyn or…?"
"Guinevere," Merlin supplies. "It's short for Guinevere."
"How do you know that?" Arthur asks, narrowing his eyes at his friend.
"It's on the paperwork from the landscaping company," Merlin sighs. "I am head of Human Resources, you know."
Arthur visibly relaxes. "Oh, yes. Of course."
Merlin plops into one of the chairs in front of Arthur's massive mahogany desk. "Why do you think you're in love with her?"
"Well, first, have you seen her?" Arthur responds, the duh clear in his tone.
"Yes, but I'm not into girls, you know that," Merlin answers.
Arthur dismissively waves his hand. "You have two functioning eyes."
"Fine; she's very pretty," he answers. "Bit outside of your normal type though. More… wholesome than your usual fare."
Arthur doesn't take offense. In fact, he nods. "That might be part of what's so appealing about her. She's beautiful, but in a… realistic way. Natural. Not like that walking Barbie doll Vivian or the too-perfect-to-be-real Mithian. And she's so nice. I don't think I've ever encountered someone so kind."
"Is she? How do you know? Oh. You've been watching her like the creeper that you are," Merlin reasons.
"I am not a creeper. I can't help it that my window overlooks the main entrance of the building and I happened to see her helping that new girl… Sefa? pick up a stack of papers she dropped outside, even though she had her hands full with her own things," Arthur says. "She even chased a few down that the wind took. Oh! And then there was the time—"
"Arthur!" Merlin interrupts him, holding up his hands in surrender. "Have you talked to her?"
Arthur's eyes widen. "I can't."
"You can't," Merlin repeats, incredulous. "You. Can't. Talk to a girl."
"Not this one." When Merlin continues staring, Arthur exclaims, "What? I've tried! It's like… like I'm 15 years old again. I get all tongue-tied and awkward. Stop laughing!"
"Sorry," Merlin apologizes, trying to curb his laughter. "I was going to ask you to tell me what happened, but I don't think I could take it…"
Arthur scowls and throws a pencil at Merlin, who easily dodges it. "I also don't want her to think that I'm… you know, taking advantage of my position as CEO. I'm not like that and I would hate for her to get that impression."
"Yes, your motives are pure as the driven snow," Merlin drily comments.
"They are!" Arthur protests. "Well, mostly. I mean, yes, I'm ridiculously attracted to her, but it's because I want to get to know her. As a person." He pauses, then looks straight at Merlin. "Do you think she's single?" Merlin replies with a one-shouldered shrug, and Arthur sighs. "Of course she's not. Why would she be single?"
"Maybe because she's fairly new in town and hasn't gotten to meet a lot of people yet?" Merlin answers.
"Really?" Arthur thinks back. Well, she's only been coming here for about a month…
"Yes, really. Look, I don't want to be impolite, but some of us have actual work to do," Merlin says, standing. "What, exactly, did you want me to do about this?"
"I don't know," Arthur admits. "But I needed to tell someone, and since you're my best mate, you won."
"Yay," Merlin replies, his voice devoid of enthusiasm. "Look: I'm happy you fancy Guinevere. Really. But you need to get your shit together and talk to her before you turn into a complete nutter."
Arthur sighs heavily. "I know."
xXx
"Come," Arthur calls, responding to a soft knock on his door the next day. The door clicks open and a large plant walks in.
"I'm sorry to interrupt, Mr. Pendragon, but Mr. Emrys called yesterday and said you wished to have a new plant for your office," a soft voice speaks from behind the plant, which appears to be some sort of potted palm.
Crafty bugger. I don't know whether to kill him or give him a raise. "Um, yes," he answers, standing. "Let me help you with that. It looks heavy." He walks over and tries to take the plant from her hands.
"It's all right," she answers. "You don't want to risk getting dirt—oh!"
Somehow during Arthur's attempt to relieve Guinevere of her burden, the pot tips and dumps dirt all over his front.
"Oh dear… oh no… I'm so sorry, Mr. Pendragon," she stammers, clearly upset and embarrassed. She quickly sets the pot down and walks over to where he is bent forward, dirt still falling from his tie. "I…" She trails off when she realizes that Arthur is bent over because he is laughing. Hard.
Arthur sits on the floor, still laughing, though he's not exactly certain why.
"Mr. Pendragon?" Guinevere asks, starting to get a little concerned.
"Arthur," he corrects, taking his tie off. "Please call me Arthur." He looks up at her. "I'm sorry."
"No, it was entirely my fault," she says, wringing her hands and biting her lower lip.
"No. If I hadn't tried to take it from you, I wouldn't be in this mess now," he says. He stands and begins unbuttoning his shirt.
Guinevere busies herself trying to scoop up the fallen dirt without further grinding it into the carpet, desperately trying not to watch the young, very attractive head of The Pendragon Corporation undress in front of her. She dumps dirt by the handful back into the pot, hoping the plant will be all right. Then she glances up and sees he has an undershirt on and relaxes a little. When he makes no move to remove his trousers, she feels a lot better. I wonder if he's a boxers or briefs man. Or boxer briefs? I bet it's boxer briefs. Some kind of expensive brand, too.
Arthur opens a closet door and pulls out a new shirt. "I keep a spare," he explains. "I may or may not have had a few run-ins with bowls of soup dotting my past," he adds. When he sees her look up at him, trying not to laugh, he adds, "Soup is for eating, not wearing. Or so I am told."
She finally laughs, and he smiles. Her laughter is like music made of sunshine. He walks over to where she is kneeling on the floor and offers her his hand.
"Oh," she says, staring at it a moment. Her hands are dirty, but his aren't exactly clean right now either, so she decides it would be rude not to take it. She stands, and when he doesn't release her hand right away, she gives him a questioning look. "Arthur?" she quietly asks.
"Merlin… Mr. Emrys… he had you bring me a plant to force me to talk to you," he quietly admits. Her brow furrows, and her confused expression is the most adorable thing he has ever seen. "And I went and buggered it all up by trying to help… and only exposed my talent for spilling things."
She blinks at him a few times, glances down at their still-joined hands, and back up at him. "What… are you saying, Mr. Pen— Arthur? Why did you need a… a ruse to talk to me?"
He sighs, drops her hand and turns away. He takes two steps, then stops. "I'm rather smitten with you, Guinevere," he admits, still facing away from her. "And I have been… afraid to talk to you."
"Afraid?" she softly asks, wishing he would turn around and look at her. She's honestly stunned, and wants to see his face to see if he is truly in earnest.
"That, and I didn't want you to think that I… had, you know, expectations because I'm the CEO here. I'm not like that," he finally faces her again, but comes no closer. "I would love to take you to dinner. But don't feel obligated to say yes. You can say no without any repercussions. I promise your contract with us will remain for as long as you wish. I'll put it in writing if necess—"
"Yes," she answers.
"What?"
"I'd love to go to dinner with you," she clarifies.
He takes one step towards her. "You would?"
"Yes," she breathes, giving him a shy smile. "And I know you're not like that," she quietly adds. "I… I tend the plants in several offices, and you are by far the… most decent, understanding, kindest CEO I've met."
"I am?" he asks, taking another step forward.
"And the… the handsomest," she adds, biting her lower lip and looking away, her cheeks flaming. Why did Isay that?
"You're beautiful when you blush," he softly says, right in front of her again. "Well, you're always beautiful, but…"
She peeks up at him and her shy smile turns into a grin. "You're blushing, too," she points out.
"Probably," he answers, not even caring. She said "yes". That's all that matters right now. "Saturday?"
"Let me give you my number," she says, smiling brightly at him.