"Morgana." Guinevere's voice is low and serious as she pokes her best friend in the shoulder. "Who. Is that?"
Morgana follows where her friend's eyes are pointing. "Oh, that's just Arthur," she answers, as though the man in the exquisitely tailored business suit and shoes that probably cost more than Guinevere's car wasn't the single most beautiful specimen of man she has ever seen. "You've heard Merlin talk about him, remember?"
Guinevere is dumbstruck. She knows Merlin has a best friend called Arthur, but he generally refers to him by such flattering terms as "Cabbage Head", "Clotpole" (whatever that is), and "Prat". She is unable to reconcile the man standing in the doorway of the church with these terms. He's currently on the phone, discussing something that looks to be very important.
Then he glances up and his blue eyes lock with Guinevere's brown ones for just a second. Heat floods through her and she quickly turns back to Morgana before she can see that his jaw goes slack and his speech stops mid-word. "Merlin calls him a prat most of the time… he doesn't look like a prat."
Morgana laughs. "You know lads. They show affection by being awful towards one another. Really, Gwen, you've been in that tropical paradise for too long," she lightly teases. "You've forgotten how regular people operate."
Guinevere is fairly sure that Arthur is not a regular person. "I have not," she says, keeping her thoughts to herself. She glances over again. He is holding his phone with his left hand. No ring. But surely he can't be single.
Then, sure enough, a pretty blonde comes walking in. He leans down as she lifts up on tiptoe and kisses his cheek. Guinevere frowns.
"That's his stepsister Elena," Morgana whispers. When Guinevere looks back, eyes wide, Morgana laughs again. "It's nice to know you are still completely transparent."
"Just to you, Morgs," Guinevere says. "Okay, yes, he's handsome. Even you have to admit that much."
"I only have eyes for my Merlin," Morgana answers loudly, blowing a kiss over Guinevere's head to her groom-to-be a short distance away. "But yeah, Arthur's fit," she quietly adds, just for Gwen's ears. "And you better get your shit together, because you're paired up with him for the wedding. Arthur's the best man."
"What?" Guinevere asks. "I thought it was going to be Gwaine!"
Morgana makes a face. "It was never Gwaine! Who told you that?"
"Gwaine did!"
"Of course he did," Morgana rolls her eyes. "Cheeky bastard. Oh well. Not my problem," she laughs. Then she looks at the time. "Oi! Pendragon! Get your arse off the phone; we need to get this rehearsal started so we're not late for our dinner reservations!"
Pendragon? Arthur Pendragon is Merlin's best friend? Guinevere ponders this as she surreptitiously watches Arthur tuck his phone in his breast pocket – oh my, he has beautiful hands – and walk over to where the rest of the wedding party is gathered.
xXx
She looks like a goddess. That was Arthur's thought when his eyes landed on Guinevere, standing in the middle of the church beside Morgana. Swathed in a flowing lavender sundress with her hair in a loose side bun, her skin dusky and sun-kissed, she momentarily rendered him speechless when her beautiful eyes connected with his.
"Arthur? Are you there? Hello?" Leon's voice on the other end of the phone finally penetrates his consciousness.
"Yes, sorry, I'm here," he quickly recovers. "Must have hit a dead spot," he lies.
He hardly notices when Elena comes in and pecks him on the cheek in greeting. He doesn't really remember the rest of his phone conversation either, and when Morgana starts yelling at him to get off the phone, he quickly does so. As he begins walking towards them, he is almost embarrassed by how desperately he is hoping his beautiful goddess is the mysterious Gwen that Morgana goes on and on about.
As he moves closer, he notices she seems to be looking everywhere except at him. He wants to take this as a good sign, especially considering how her tawny skin tinged pink when their eyes met.
"Are we ready to begin?" the pastor asks, looking around the group.
"Um, I think we need to make some introductions first. We have some people in from out of town," Merlin says. "Okay, um… Gwen, well, you know Gwaine… this is my cousin Will," he points to a young man with dark hair and bright blue eyes, "and this is Arthur. Will, Arthur, this is Guinevere Leodegrance. She's Morgana's best mate… you know, the one she talks about all the time."
"Hello," Guinevere says, smiling at Will, then Arthur. Will waves. Arthur extends his hand, and she takes it, hoping her palms aren't as clammy as she thinks they are.
"Lovely to meet you, Guinevere," Arthur says. He wants to lift her hand to his lips and kiss it, but he doesn't want her to think he's like Gwaine. Instead, he lightly strokes the back of her hand with his thumb before releasing it.
When she smiles, blushes again, and quickly turns towards Morgana, who begins introducing the other women in the wedding party, Arthur feels his heartbeat quicken.
"She's single, Clotpole," Merlin mutters. "But she lives in Turks and Caicos."
"Yes, Morgana has said," Arthur replies. "Often." He feels like he knows so much about Guinevere – I really like that name. It's much better than just Gwen – but thus far their paths have never crossed. He knows she is originally from Southampton, like Morgana, but her family is from the Caribbean, and they moved back there after her grandfather died to help her grandmother run the small resort their family owns.
Arthur feels a sudden urge to visit the Caribbean. Soon.
"All right, now that everyone knows everyone else, shall we begin?" the pastor announces.
xXx
"Arthur, put your phone away," Elena huffs, leaning over to peer at his screen. "Who is that, Uther? He knows you're busy tonight; why is he bothering you?" she asks, then pulls out her own phone.
"Elena, what are you doing?" Arthur asks.
"Texting Daddy so he'll keep Uther occupied," Elena says, fingers flying on her phone. "There. I suggested they go to Chez Caerleon for a romantic dinner." Arthur rolls his eyes and puts his phone away. "What?" Elena innocently asks. "They need to relax, and so do you. He works you too hard."
"Arthur has two dads?" Guinevere quietly asks Morgana, overhearing this exchange.
Morgana snorts, almost choking on her wine. "Yeah," she answers. "Uther and Godwin… late bloomers, them," she laughs. "They were both married – to women – had children, and wound up widowers. I daresay no one was more surprised than Uther and Godwin themselves."
Guinevere tilts her head slightly. "Good for them. Happiness can often be found in unexpected places," she says, her eyes subconsciously flicking in Arthur's direction. Again.
She is proud of herself for not being a complete idiot during the rehearsal. She didn't trip over her own feet or suffer from verbal diarrhea or ask him to marry her or anything. She may or may not have felt up his arm a little bit as they walked up and down the aisle (especially after he took off his jacket). And she may or may not have leaned in a little closer to him than necessary to see what he smells like (and was not disappointed).
She thinks he was checking her out a little, too, but she's not sure if he really was or if she was just hoping.
"Right," Morgana drily replies, "like at wedding rehearsals."
"Yeah," Gwen absently agrees. Then, "Wait, what?"
"You heard me. Why didn't you sit next to him?"
Gwen's eyes widen. "Obvious much?"
"Oh, and you're being so subtle?" Morgana retorts. "He's checking you out, too, you know."
"He is not… is he?"
"Merlin."
"Yes, Love?" Merlin asks, turning towards them.
"Arthur is single, yes?" she quietly asks.
Merlin nods. "I think he fancies Gwen a bit," he blurts, a little too loudly.
"Who fancies Gwen?" Gwaine asks very loudly, leaning forward. "I mean, besides me."
"Excuse me, I'll just be crawling under the table now," Gwen says, covering her face with her hands, not even daring to look and see if Arthur heard.
"I do, Gwaine darling. I was just telling Merlin that the wedding is off because I am running off to Turks and Caicos," Morgana teases.
"Brilliant. Can I come watch?" Gwaine asks, and Merlin smacks him on the shoulder.
Their food arrives, further rescuing Guinevere, but she still leans over and whispers to Morgana, "Tell your fiancé that I am going to kill him."
"You won't have to," Morgana replies. chuckling. "Arthur is already looking daggers at him."
Arthur heard what Merlin said. He also heard Gwaine's comment, and saw how it embarrassed Guinevere. Not that she's not adorable when she blushes, but he did not like seeing it caused by genuine mortification.
He was unusually quiet during the rehearsal, finding himself somewhat tongue-tied by her proximity. He can't remember the last time he's been this attracted to someone. Not just attracted, intrigued. She is just so uniquely beautiful, with her soft brown bedroom eyes, full lips, and incredible scattering of freckles over her nose and cheekbones.
He wants to kiss each one of those freckles.
He wants to know if all of her skin is as soft as the skin on her hands. It certainly looks it. He glances over again, allowing his eyes to linger on her shoulders, following the line of her collarbone then down, to the swell of her bosom and the tiny bit of cleavage showing.
"You gonna eat that bite of steak?" Elena asks. She leans closer and quietly adds, "Maybe if we put it in Gwen's cleav—"
"Elena," Arthur cuts her off, popping the bite of steak into his mouth. "Honestly, you're as bad as Merlin sometimes."
"I will take that as a compliment," she replies. "You going to ask her out or just sit here and pine?"
"I think I'll pine for a bit longer," he answers with a casualness he doesn't really feel. "She's going to go back home after the wedding anyway."
"So? In this day and age, that's not really a deterrent," Elena points out. "And it's not like the Pendragon-Gawants don't have more than one private jet or anything, jeez."
Arthur merely humphs into his ale.
"You're being an old poop and I'm glad I'm paired with Gwaine tomorrow," she says, sticking her tongue out at him.
"Oh, very mature," he says, trying not to laugh.
xXx
After dinner, there is talk of going to the pubs, but Gwen declines, still tired from traveling.
When Arthur also claims he is too tired for revelry – "I've had a very hectic week" – Merlin nudges him. Hard.
"What?" Arthur asks, frowning down at his recently assaulted arm, then over at Merlin.
"Offer to take Gwen back to her hotel before she calls a taxi," Merlin quietly says.
"I couldn't," Arthur protests. "She'll think I'm a creeper."
"Oh, she will not. She's taking out her mobile, Arthur…" When Arthur still hesitates, Merlin takes matters into his own hands. "Gwen!"
"Merlin!" Arthur whisper-yells.
Merlin ignores him. "Arthur's leaving too. He can give you a ride."
"Oh, I don't want to be a bother," she answers, trying not to sound hopeful.
"Nonsense. Save you cab fare. Plus, your hotel is on his way," Merlin presses.
"Is it?" Arthur asks, having no idea where Guinevere is staying.
"Does it matter?" Merlin mutters out of the side of his mouth, then he nudges Arthur again.
"It's no trouble," Arthur blurts.
"Well… if you don't mind…" she says, slowly walking over. The breeze picks up and billows the skirt of her dress. A few loose tendrils of hair are also lifted, kissing her neck and cheeks.
"All right. It's settled then," Morgana chimes in. "Arthur will give Gwen a ride," she says, edging her voice with a very slight insinuation that they all catch and dutifully, pointedly ignore.
Arthur summons his courage and offers his arm. "My lady," he says.
Merlin rolls his eyes, but Gwen smiles and takes his arm.
"Thank you," she says.
xXx
"So you live in the Caribbean?" Arthur asks after a minute of awkward but charged silence as they walk to his car.
"Yes. My family is originally from there. Um, my grandparents owned a small resort in Turks and Caicos, and when Papa died, my father wanted to go back and help Gran run the place," she answers. "Thank you," she adds when he opens her car door for her.
He smiles, closes the door, then walks around to his side. "How long ago was that?" he asks once he's seated. He quietly inhales, noting how the closed environment of the car makes it easier for him to enjoy her unique floral vanilla scent.
"About ten years now. I was close to finishing school, so we stayed in Southampton until I graduated. I went to University on the island," she answers. His sports car is small and low and he is so close she thinks she can feel the warmth from his body beside her. She knows she has a tendency to talk more when she's flustered, and tonight is no exception. "My younger brother Elyan had to transfer schools, obviously, but he didn't mind," she continues. "Gran died five years ago, and mum took ill and passed two years after that, so now it's me, Elyan, and Dad running the place. But we're doing fine, and…" she stops and looks over at Arthur. They're at a stoplight and he's simply staring at her. "I'm sorry. I'm rambling."
"Not at all. It's very interesting," he reassures her, reaching out to pat her hand. He gets halfway there before he realizes it and withdraws, tightly gripping the gearshift until his knuckles turn white. "I'm sorry about your mum," he quietly adds.
"Thank you," she answers. "I… understand that may be something we have in common?" she quietly ventures.
"Yes," Arthur confirms. "Except my mother died when I was very young. I hardly remember her."
"I'm so sorry, Arthur," Guinevere replies, her hand resting lightly on his for just a second. "Do you have any siblings besides Elena?"
"No," he answers. "Which is just as well; she's a handful," he chuckles.
"She is really… something," she giggles. "I mean, I like her, but she's… she's very like Morgana. No filter."
"If it's in the brain, it's out the mouth," he supplies, and they are both laughing. He stops again, then turns towards her hotel, wishing it were further away so he can keep talking to her. He's really enjoying their conversation and knows that there likely won't be many opportunities like this tomorrow. "Tell me more about the island," he says.
"Have you been to the Caribbean?" she asks.
"Always meant to," he answers. But now I might have a reason to make a trip.
"It's beautiful. Clear blue water, bright blue skies, it's almost always warm out," she says, closing her eyes and leaning her head back "The breezes smell like salt water from one direction, flowers from the other. There are flowers everywhere. Shoes aren't always required. You can go swimming almost every day." She opens her eyes. They are parked in the hotel lot and Arthur is just enjoying watching her. "Of course there are the occasional hurricanes. And very large insects. Jellyfish. A very infrequent shark. And I sometimes miss things from here."
"Like what?" he asks, thinking he would put up with bugs and hurricanes in exchange for optional shoes and warm weather all the time.
"Snow, but only on Christmas day," she says, giggling a little. "Fish and chips. You know, proper fish and chips. My friends, like Morgana. She's come to visit me a few times, and Skype is a gift from God, but…" she trails off, shrugging lightly. "I'm sorry. You're tired, and I'm keeping you."
"I'm the one who keeps asking you questions," Arthur points out, smiling. "It just all sounds so wonderful."
"You should come sometime," Guinevere blurts without thinking. "Oh, I—"
"I do need a vacation," he replies before she can retract her statement. "Haven't had one since I finished University."
A light smile graces her face and they simply look at one another for a few seconds.
All I would need to do is lean over and…
"I should…"
"Yeah…"
"Um… thank you for the lift," she says, her hand on the handle.
"You're very welcome. I'll walk you in," he replies.
"Thank you again, but the door's just there. I'll be fine," she says opening the door. If you walk me in, I'll invite you up to my room. "I'll see you tomorrow."
"Looking forward to it," he responds, tamping down his disappointment. "Sleep well."
She gives him one more smile, and his disappointment disappears.
One she is safely inside the hotel, he drives out of the lot and heads home, clear on the other side of town.
Merlin is right. It doesn't matter.