Disclaimer: I do not own Merlin.
Gwen flipped through the pages of the most recent month's edition of Gentlemen's Quarterly. She had been dressed and waiting for twenty minutes now. It's impossible to comprehend how it could take a man so long to prepare himself for an uncomplicated dinner out with new friends.
She slapped the crisp pages of the magazine together and picked up the remote, deciding to flip through the channels instead. It was already 7.49 p.m. and their reservations were for 8.15. They would be late, but she supposed that the others would be too.
"Okay, I think I'm ready," he said from inside the room.
"Let's see it then," she replied. This time she kept watching the screen. The last two ensembles were in his opinion a complete mission failure and she wasn't sure if he would make it out of the room this time.
"Well," he asked.
The voice was nearer. She turned her head to see him sporting a simple modern fit, dark blue dress shirt and a pair of slacks. He looked magnificent. It was odd but she hadn't noticed how lovely he could be in that color. His face began to twist from a nervous smile into sincere distress.
"You don't like it?"
"No. That's not it. You look fantastic, is all."
"Really?" he asked, still looking doubtful.
"Really! Don't worry she will love you. You're irresistible," Gwen told him with a coy smirk.
She stopped to perfect her lips with a touch of gloss in the mirror inside the narrow hallway while her flat mate searched for his keys. Tilting her head to one side she took in her new appearance. Her stylist had replaced her soft ringlets with the bone straight tress that normally adorned Morgana's head. It had been a bit of a shock to him – her too to be honest.
'Your curls are gloriously sacrosanct,' he told her.
They were her favorite accessory. A sort of signature, like the just right piece of jewelry that accentuated your one true little black dress or the perfect pair of fancy colored high heels that dressed up even your most casual tee and jeans combo.
"You look perfect Guinevere," he told her, sensing the tiny bit of apprehension she was feeling.
"You always know just what to say."
"Let's hope so. I can't believe I'm actually dating like a grown up again."
Gwen smiled and took him by the hand. "It's like riding a bicycle and we know you've ridden hundreds of those."
"Hang on," he countered almost really hurt, except it was a true statement.
"Kiddin', you've completely turned over a new leaf."
"I have," he said pointing his finger but then his shoulders dropped. "I just don't know if should."
"There's nothing wrong with wanting to settle down."
"I know but shouldn't I want to sow my oats." He said the term as if it literally meant that he had to visit the local hardware store for seeds and an actual hoe.
The counseling session continued all the way down the lift to the car park.
"I suppose it's natural for you to still want all of the same things and hope to find it in a new person," she told him.
"So you don't think it's foolish for me to do this again so soon?"
"No." Was that entirely true, she wondered? Should he really be seeking out another serious relationship so soon after being dumped?
"I feel foolish. I keep asking myself: What if she doesn't like me?"
"You're just a little nervous. It's your first real attempt at dating since Sophia. It's only natural to be jittery."
He considered her words for a long moment. "What about you?"
"What about me?"
"Do you like him?"
"I love him! He's great."
"But?"
"No buts, we're friends."
He feigned belief, nodding his head and furrowing his brows together in a haughty, entirely insincere attempt at contemplation.
"I'm not joking," she respond to his glare, unable to suppress a laugh. "We thought you two would be perfect for each other and everyone knows blind dates are the awful creations of the seventh circle of Dante's inferno; so we decided it would be best for us to come with, just so it didn't feel so massive."
"So you actually believe that he offered up this double date idea for mine and Vivian's sakes?"
"Yes. I do." She received more scepticism of the cynical variety from him. "Wha? He's my friend. I would know if he liked me."
Now he rolled his eyes too.
Arthur Pendragon had been one of her dearest friends since they were introduced to each other by Morgana – his sister, her friend. They hit it off from the start and kept moved in with him after months of his tireless pleading. He had a huge flat and hated being in it alone. The rent couldn't be any more accommodating – he only asked that she would cook whenever they didn't order out and of course, do all the grocery shopping, which he hated but always offered up his special brand of talent to aid in the completion of both chores.
To his sister and the rest of their friends, the living arrangements appeared quite domesticated, despite their constant denials. After a while they just accepted the nagging and inappropriate banter but it all faded away when soon after both of them entered into serious relationships with other people. Gwen dated one of her many suitors for more than a year and Arthur started down the path of a long term relationship with his now ex-fiancée Sophia.
Eventually the others accepted that there was really nothing there to ship beyond them being solid mates.
Looking on as Arthur struggled through the French on his menu with the patient help of his very cultured date Vivian, Gwen wondered if she really could go through with the pact that they had sworn to three weekends ago.
"How's your wine?" Gwaine asked her.
"It's not bad, you wouldn't make a terrible sommelier," she answered.
"That is the most flattering backhanded compliment I received in almost forever, thank you, Guinevere," he replied grinning.
"I did not mean it like that. You'd come in rather handy."
"Oh yes, Gwaine, the maybe terrible sommelier."
"Think of it more as a term of endearment," she giggled.
He leaned in and whispered into her ear, "I think he likes her."
Gwen snuck a glance over at the matching, blonde couple enjoying each other's company and smiled. "I think you did well with this one."
"Better than the wine," he teased.
"Stop it, the wine is fantastic. You're just a whore for compliments."
"What's that about whores?" Arthur nosed his way in.
"Nothing," she replied returning to her lamb.
The remainder of dinner went swimmingly. She blushed again as Gwaine remarked for the millionth time that evening that he loved her hair and Arthur and Vivian made googly eyes at each other while the four of them waited for the valet to usher their cars from across the street.
"I told you he liked you," Arthur tossed out the moment he shut his door.
"Don't be ridiculous."
"Oh Guinevere your hair is like a waterfall of melted chocolate that pours in the pool of my heart and when you blink your eyes, my heart beats in triplicate and my tummy flutters with anticipation," he mocked in his best Romeo to Juliet.
"Oh you have some cheek. At least he wasn't pretending not to know what he was reading all evening. Just exactly how many years of university French did you have again?"
"Guinevere, my French is not brilliant," he uttered, almost guffawing. "And that bit of acting doesn't change the fact that I am right."
The bastard was right, she thought but she swore she wouldn't give him the satisfaction.
She had met Gwaine a year and a half ago one morning on her way to the office. They ordered the same odd coffee and chai combination and figured that the mutual quirkiness warranted at least an exchange of phone contacts.
It'd been texting and the occasional social outing with each other's friends, mostly him tagging along to all her fun events, ever since. You're always told that friendships serve as a great basis for a lasting romance, but knowing all of someone's secrets and insecurities from the outset of a relationship could be equally as dangerous.
The entire ride home was consumed by Arthur's need to hear her admit that he was right. Conceding only a small bit of interest existed between her and Gwaine was as far as she would go tonight despite his argumentations.
They changed out of their dinner attire and ended up falling asleep on the comfy sofa together after watching DVR'd reruns of 'ER'.
The buzz from the intercom went off next to Arthur and for a moment she was pleased that she had chosen to rest her head on the opposite side of the couch last night, until he jerk rather violently and she felt her body flying from its resting place and falling hard onto the hard Brazilian teak floors.
"Sorry," he apologized ignoring the constant noise from the doorman two flights down. He grabbed her by the waist, helping her to her feet and then kissed her swiftly on the lips. It was just a light peck but then, he returned and his lips showed more intent.
The haze of waking up so abruptly must have been the reason why she kissed him back, she decided. Mercifully the buzzing had ended at some point during their long, lip-locked exchange but then a persistent knocking visited the door. It finally broke the deepening kiss, pulling both of them out of whatever rabbit hole they had just tripped and fallen into.
They stared at each other for another moment and then he moved by her and went to answer the door. She could feel him looking back at her from over his shoulder. She stood paralyzed and then the sharp pain returned to her left knee.
She flopped down onto the sofa, twinging from the motion and biting down on her untrustworthy lips to block out the excruciating sensation. She could hear the noisy chatter filtering into the open area that had a dedicated section for kitchen, dining and living activities but no dividing walls.
"I didn't get you one of those exotic concoctions that you crave. I figured after last night's date with Gwaine you may want your coffee black," Morgana teased.
Gwen didn't answer. She kept staring down at her swollen, red knee, thinking about what had somehow managed to occur for the first time in more than seven years of knowing each other and just over three years of cohabitation.
"Sweetie is everything all right?" She asked. She set the paper cup and her toned arse wrapped in a pair of painted on skinny jeans on top of the coffee table and caught sight of the offending knee. "Oh my God, what happened? Are you okay?"
"Yeah, I'm fine. I just slammed it into the floor." Morgana raised an eyebrow at her. "I mean Arthur slammed me into the floor."
That didn't help, now both perfect eyebrows were raised.
"Not like that," he clarified leaving Lancelot and Merlin to get some ice from the kitchen.
"How exactly then?" Lancelot asked.
"We fell asleep on the couch and when you three rang the buzzer I sort of kicked her off of it," he said trailing off a bit.
"Oh, we're sorry Gwen," Merlin said taking the seat next to her. He rubbed her back softly. "I guess we just assumed that you two always did your sleeping in the bed, like normal flat mates do when they have big, huge beds in separate rooms designed specifically for not sleeping together."
"Shut up Merlin," Arthur said sitting next to the knee and placing the cloth filled with ice cubes onto it.
There was a collective effort on the part of the others to stifle chuckles and smirks. Both Arthur and Guinevere found it more comforting at the moment to concentrate their eyes on her pulsing knee than on each other or directly at any of the three other people in the room.
"I was only kidding about the coffee," Morgana said. Arthur's sister handed her the cup. She took it gladly finding yet another thing to do that did not involve looking at her friend. He moved again, this time scampering off to his room for something important she imagined.
The others fussed over her. Merlin put her leg on a pillow in his lap and held the ice pack against the bruise. They prodded her with questions seeking details about the date from the night before. They cancelled their Saturday morning breakfast outing, opting for Lancelot's handy chef expertise instead.
It was lucky that they had gone shopping the day prior.
Arthur had returned from his room but he had decided to help out in the kitchen staying clear of the group on the sofa. The searing pain had eased into a muted ache and just before the personalized omelettes were flipped into individual plates, she hobbled out of her room after spending a few moments alone staring at her reflection in the bathroom mirror.
Arthur was a good guy and a great friend. Through all the time that they've known each other, they shared stories of all their lives as single people filled with pretty partners who doted over them and the wretched ones too, all of which had ended in an epic disaster or petered out before a flame could really take hold, occasionally some ended on good terms like with her and Lancelot.
But neither of them ever seriously considered the other as a potential match. And so while the thought had not truthfully escaped a handful of late nights ponderings between them, they had decided long before that just being friends forever was good enough for the both of them and that they would rather have the other in their life in that way than ever taking the chance of becoming lovers and possibly ruining a perfectly wonderful friendship.
A/N: I hope you enjoyed chapter one. Please review and let me know what you think. Chapter two will be posted soon.