Title: TheChristmas Present – Modern AU
Show: Merlin
Characters/Pairings: Gwen/Arthur, mentioned Merlin, Morgana, Uther, Gaius, & Hunith.
Rating: T
Word Count: 1,911
Disclaimer: I obviously don't own, because if I did… there would be more moments with just A&G.
Warnings: fluff, sexual suggestiveness, and a bit of slightly perverse humor
Summary: Arthur and Gwen spend their first Christmas with just the two of them.
Brit-picked & beta'd by: dis_netis on LJ.
A/N: Written for the Holiday Crackfest at camelot_love on LJ.
I have spent time on this that should have been utilized studying for finals. (Although I generally avoid studying like the plague, so if it wasn't writing fanfiction, it would have been something else. Might as well do something you all can appreciate, right?)
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Arthur spread the legs wide, gazing between them.
What had he gotten himself into?
"You're supposed to put the stuffing into it, Arthur. Not give it an exam."
Arthur chuckled and looked up at Gwen's amused grin.
"If this were a woman instead of a chicken, Guinevere, I would not be nearly as intimidated," he retorted while beginning to spoon in the stuffing – which Gwen had luckily already made for him. And then he was supposed to tie its legs together or something? He was honestly kind of winging it.
Gwen turned back to the tart crust she was making, sprinkling flour on the counter and transferring the dough from the bowl. "You offered to cook it."
"Yes, because you somehow have this ingenious way of tricking me into doing things."
"I did no such thing."
"You questioned my ability to cook."
"And that was by no means a challenge."
Arthur frowned, beginning to regret telling her he'd cook the chicken. It's only a chicken, he had thought. You just stick it in the oven; take it out when it's done. But he had soon found out that there was much more to it than that.
The one consolation was that if he completely mucked it up, he would only be an embarrassment to Gwen. Which was also probably the only reason she had agreed to it.
Their previous Christmases had either been big and crazy with Merlin, Gaius, Hunith, and Morgana or small and awkward with just Uther and Morgana. But Merlin and Gaius had traveled to Ealdor this time and Morgana had gotten a last minute journalizing assignment to Afghanistan which she would not pass up.
Then for a terrifying few days Arthur had thought they would have to endure Christmas dinner with just themselves and Uther until his father informed them that he would have to work. And whether that was just an excuse because he also knew it would make for an awkward experience or whether it was the truth, Arthur didn't really care and wasn't going to insist on it (even though he probably should have). His father never really liked Christmas anyway and would probably prefer working. He was a workaholic, after all.
So it was his and Gwen's first Christmas by themselves, and Arthur couldn't complain. He liked how quiet and comfortable it was, just the two of them. As if to suggest something about how their future Christmases might be.
Arthur finally finished preparing the chicken and put it in the oven, breathing a sigh of relief that most of his work was done. Feeling incredibly accomplished, he sidled up behind Gwen, slipping his arms around her middle to slide his hands up under her jumper.
"Come to help?" She laughed.
"Nah, just keeping my hands warm," he whispered in her ear, slowly running his palms up and down her stomach.
Putting his head over her shoulder, he noticed a dust of flour on her cheek below her temple, probably from pushing a curl behind her ear. Smiling to himself, he moved his mouth over the spot, licking the small amount of powder away.
Gwen squirmed at first, before giggling. "And that's definitely not helping."
"Am too. Flour on your face," he mumbled into her skin as he pressed another kiss below her ear.
"And there, too?"
"Mm-hmm," he affirmed against her neck as he continued down.
Gwen shivered, but rolled her shoulder in an attempt to get him to stop. "Admit it or not, I remember when you used to be intimidated."
He smiled, remembering when he had been afraid for a long time to even touch her. "That's because it was different with you," he replied softly.
Arthur could see from his angle how her cheek became rounder, and he knew she must be smiling.
"Besides, I've never heard you complain," he added, his tone huskier now as one hand trailed down her abdomen to slip under her jeans.
Gwen's rolling pin stilled and she sighed as his hand stopped right above where her curls began. His fingers traced horizontally over her skin a few times before sliding back up and returning underneath her jumper. She didn't say anything and continued rolling the crust, but Arthur could picture how her face would be flushed, her pupils dilated, and her smile small and coy.
He liked teasing her. It had started as him being hesitant to go too far, when they had first started the relationship. But now he knew how crazy it drove her and how the build in anticipation was like stoking a fire – a fire that always paid off in the end.
"I don't know why you insist on making treacle tart every year when you could just pick one up at the store."
She was silent for a moment, to which he quickly added, "I'm not saying yours isn't better, just that you don't have to go through to all this trouble."
"No, it's just…" she answered quietly, "my mum made one every year before she got sick. So when she died, I tried to keep the tradition going."
"Oh," he replied, not really knowing what else to say. So he hugged her a little tighter to his chest, hoping that was the right thing to do.
"Although mine has never been as good and I can never figure out why, when I follow the recipe exactly," she continued.
"I'm sure you're just being hard on yourself. Or that the memory is sweeter."
She shrugged one shoulder and sighed. "Maybe."
He rubbed his hands over her stomach again, this time in a more comforting kind of way. In their silence, he remembered the picture he had once seen of a young Guinevere when she was perhaps five years old, with round, pink cheeks and small, curious hands. And he imagined a young Gwen leaning over the kitchen counter from a stool she had to stand on to be tall enough, watching her mother roll the tart crust.
Then he imagined another little girl, looking very much like Gwen, but perhaps less tan and with a longer face. And just like Gwen, she was enthralled by her mother's movements, asking questions and wanting to help.
"You ever think about, say five or ten years from now," he began quietly, "what our Christmases might be like?"
"Um," she responded hesitantly, "what do you mean?"
"I mean… like us having a little one around. And you teaching them how to make treacle tart, me teaching them how not to make chicken…"
Gwen didn't answer right away, but he could see her holding back a smile. "You think about those kinds of things?" she whispered carefully.
"It has been over two years. I'd say we can safely think about it."
"Well," she began, "yes, I've thought about it."
"And?"
"And… it might be nice. To be a… erm…"
Arthur paused for a moment, thinking of the one thing neither of them had seemed to ever have (at least in a long time, in Gwen's case). "A family?" he whispered.
She nodded slowly, while Arthur noticed a faint pink coloring her cheeks that he had rarely seen for a long time.
Arthur kissed her cheek again. "Okay."
---
Dinner had been pleasant, the chicken not only edible but actually good. Just the two of them and some holiday music playing in the background. They talked and laughed. And Arthur kept thinking about their first date and how comfortable it had been, how similar and different it had been to this.
Finally, they began clearing the table, washing the dishes and putting away any leftovers. Once Gwen began scrubbing the last plate, Arthur pecked her temple and offered to finally clean up the present wrappings that were still left on the floor from that morning. Taking a bin liner, he gathered them up with amazing speed before finding what looked like the least abused piece of wrapping and slipping off to their bedroom.
He returned soon after, plopping onto the couch next to her and slipping his left arm around her shoulders. White Christmas was on the TV and Gwen was huddled under a blanket.
"Look what I found hiding under some wrapping paper," he said, handing a small box to her. "We forgot one." Gwen turned it over. "Well who's it for? The tag fell off."
He shrugged. "It's probably yours. Just open it."
She began to pull at the paper's edges, her eyes flicking up at Bing Crosby while she tore off the wrapping. When she looked down again properly at the box, her eyes widened.
"Arthur, what is this?" she said almost like she was warning him, gesturing at him with the box.
Arthur couldn't keep the grin off his face. "I dunno. Who said it was from me?"
She bit her lip and opened the box.
And there it was. The ring. The one he'd gotten two months ago with Morgana's help and from then on had been constantly harassed about. The one that was modest but beautiful. Not cheap, but not expensive either (since he knew Gwen would object to him spending as much as he could have). The one that Morgana had smiled and nodded her approval over once he found it. And the one that had since then been hiding in the back of his sock drawer until tonight, when he finally felt like it was the right time.
"Guinevere?" he asked carefully, rubbing her right hand with his free one.
She turned her head her head to face him all. "Arthur, I …"
He looked back at her, his eyes no longer teasing, but tender, even scared.
"Well?"
She leaned toward him and kissed him, soft and slow. Her hand came up to touch his jaw before running through his hair.
A lump was rising in his throat and he could practically feel his heart thumping right out of his chest – but in a way completely unlike when they usually were kissing like this.
Gwen pulled back just a bit, her face still close to his. He opened his eyes, although hers remained closed.
And she was smiling.
"Yes," she whispered, nodding her head.
Arthur sighed in relief. It had felt like he'd been holding his breath since she'd opened the box. Then the grin returned – he just couldn't help it.
He took the ring in one hand, her left hand in his other, and slid the ring on her finger. Out of the corner of his eye he could see she was still smiling. It felt pretty bloody fantastic.
So he kissed her hand and then her lips.
"Love you," he whispered.
She sighed against his mouth. "Me, too."
Soon they went back to watching the movie, Gwen nestled even deeper in his arms. He didn't miss her eyes glancing down to her left hand every once in a while and the faint smile gracing her lips.
At some point, his right hand slipped down the front of her pants – just a few centimeters, enough to tease. A minute later and her hand was on his thigh, stroking up and down in a way that could pass as absent-minded.
The credits had just begun to roll when she switched off the telly and got up, reaching out for his hand.
"Time for bed."
He grinned. "What about treacle tart?" he teased.
"How about… dessert first." A smile slunk then across her face. "Then treacle tart."