A/N- In a vain attempt to end my writer's block, I decided to write a series of drabbles about a couple with the assistance of a helpful OTP prompt Tumblr blog. Robin Hood was my favourite TV show for a long time of my life and still holds a special place in my heart. As a child, I always faithfully shipped Marian with Robin but as I grew older, I began to appreciate Guy more as a character. Whilst I would not necessarily describe Guy and Marian as my OTP (only in that whilst I love them together, it doesn't hurt as much as other pairings of mine), I was hoping this exercise would at least get me back into writing. Anyway, sorry for a long-winded introduction. Hope you enjoy it - AA
Imagine person A of your OTP cooking something for person B. When person B tries it, they say it's good to be kind, but it's actually the worst thing they've ever eaten.
Climbing through the window, the Night Watchman found herself suddenly hesitating. She scanned her bedchamber. She held her breath and listened hard. Yet something was wrong. Something just did not… smell right.
Depositing her mask and night's takings discretely under her bed, she quietly crept across the room and peered around the door. From somewhere below, she caught the sound of clashing pots, muffled cursing and the stench of something quite unholy. As quick as she could, she pulled an old gown over the top of her Watchman gear before grabbing her eating knife.
'Father?' she called out, trying to keep her voice steady. 'Father, are you well?' No answer.
Clutching the knife tightly, Marian crept down the stairs. Holding her breath, she followed the direction of the noises. What sort of thief would attack our kitchens, she thought furiously, reaching out towards the door handle.
A cloud of smoke engulfed her as the door swung open. Spluttering, she could only just about peer through the fumes. The kitchen itself was empty but for the outline of one figure crouched over a lone fire. At the sound of Marian's coughing fit, the figure spun around just as the smoke began to clear. Marian's eyes widened in shock.
'Sir Guy?' she gasped. 'What? What are you doing here? At this hour?' She folded her arms across her chest, suddenly self-conscious of the lumpy outline of her Watchman clothes underneath her dress. Discretely, she pushed the small blade back into the confines of her sleeve.
'Marian.' His voice was hoarse yet somewhat higher than usual. His normally pale cheeks were flushed a vivid shade of red and his blue eyes were bright and watery. Sooty handprints and sweat marred the fabric of his pale under-tunic. The bowl he had been holding before Marian's arrival lay on the floor by his bare feet; chopped vegetables scattered across the rushes.
With an inaudible sigh, Marian dropped to her knees and began to scoop up the vegetables, her cheeks flushed- with what? Annoyance, undoubtedly. For a moment, she had imagined the worst. At worst now, she would have to buy a new pot and possibly hire more servants to clean up this mess. Yet anger wasn't the only emotion that made her blush. Down on her knees, she realised just how physically close she was to this man, closer than she had ever been before. Even with her eyes focused on the ground, she could sense his presence looming over her. As she reached out for a stray parsnip, her cheek just brushed against his thinly-hosened leg. The touch lasted a moment yet she felt the shock of it radiate down her body.
Standing up quickly, she held the bowl out to him wordlessly, brushing absently with her spare hand at her tingling cheek. When Marian had descended the stairs, her mind had considered possible scenes she would come across. Never in a million lifetimes would Marian have imagined just what was waiting for her. The dark, tempestuous, violent Guy of Gisbourne, right-hand man of the rat-faced Sheriff of Nottingham, stared back at her, clutching a wooden spoon and standing over a pot of smoking pottage.
'I think your food might be burning,' she mumbled eventually, peering at the grey-coloured gloop forming beneath the smoke. At that, the spell broke. He swore profusely and spun around, ineffectively prodding through the thick plumes of smoke at his creation.
'Your father said you were asleep. That you were ill again.' His voice was barely audible so choked up that it was.
'I was,' Marian hastily answered, reaching for a nearby pewter cup (helpfully already half-filled with ale). Silently, she handed it to him and watched him thirstily throw it back. 'But I heard noises.' Guy's eyes dropped. 'What is this?'
'Vegetable broth. My mother used to make me it whenever I was ill as a child.' The gloop spat and sizzled at the bottom of the pot. 'I-'. He coughed, an embarrassed look crossing his features. 'I thought I could make you some. Make you feel better. I sent the servants away and your father was out when I arrived.' He looked up and caught her gaze. For a second, Marian did not see the man before her. Rather she glimpsed an over-grown boy, gazing down at her with blue eyes, eager to be praised. Her face softened.
'Thank you,' she smiled, watching his face brighten. Swallowing back any revulsion, she gestured towards the pottage. 'Can I try some?' The grey gloop was beginning to blacken.
Skirting around the pot, Guy reached forward and scooped some of it, with difficulty, onto the end of the spoon. Carefully cupping his hand underneath it, he blew softly on it and held the spoon out. Hesitantly, Marian took a step forward, eyeing the gruel wearily. With Guy's eyes watching her intently, she placed her lips against the spoon and swallowed the mouthful with some difficulty.
'Delicious,' she eventually whispered, blinking away tears. Guy's entire face lit up.
'You really think so?' Marian could only nod. 'Would you like some more?' Grimacing, she shook her head.
'Maybe another time.'