Title: On Christmas Eve
Fandom: Merlin
Category: Modern AU (Slash)
Characters/Pairings: Percival/Gwaine
Rating: T (mild sexual reference)
Word Count: 2,152
Summary: Gwaine and Percival became engaged over the summer. It's Christmas Eve, and they are throwing their first holiday party together in their new beachfront house. Percival is beyond stressed, and Gwaine is beginning to worry that the surprise he has planned may be over-the-top. Modern AU.
A/N—Hello, friends! I know I have not published in quite some time, but I wanted to share a dash of holiday merriment this year, despite my nervousness about posting work after a long hiatus. This tale popped into my head overnight last night, as these tales tend to do. This story features a Perwaine pairing and takes place in America because, as an American, telling a tale in a place I am familiar with makes my life a touch easier. Besides, I like imagining these two could be my neighbors.
Without further ado, here we go.
On Christmas Eve
Percival stood hunched over the granite kitchen counter, using the mandoline to shave zucchini into paper-thin slices. With his eyes narrowed in concentration, he hovered over a mountain of vegetables, cheese, and a pot of homemade tomato sauce. However, the tension was obvious in his posture, and Gwaine worried if he tapped his fiancé's shoulder, Percival would jump, lose focus, and a culinary disaster would ensue.
"Um, babe?" Gwaine leaned against the kitchen doorframe and smiled at Percival. "What can I help you with?"
"Can you grab a roll of paper towels from the garage? Oh, and more dish soap."
"Sure, but what else can I help with? You look like you might snap."
Percival wiped off his hands on his apron and sighed. "Nothing. I have this under control."
"You're clenching your jaw, and those shoulders of yours?" Gwaine strolled over and massaged Percival's back. "They're so tight, you'll have muscle spasms at any moment. You need to relax and let me pitch in."
"I love you, I truly do, and you have many fine talents, but cooking is not one of them. Remember that salmon last week, and that sweet potato mash?" He shuddered.
"What?" Gwaine couldn't help but laugh. "They weren't that terrible."
"Gwaine, the salmon was so tough that it bent the knife when I tried to cut it. And you accidentally dumped a tablespoon of cayenne pepper into the mash. We almost died."
"That's a little dramatic…"
Percival shook his head.
"Well, you did throw up," Gwaine conceded. "Anyway, other than the paper towels and soap you need from the garage, what else can I do to make things easier for you? I don't like how you're killing yourself over tonight. I mean, what do we need to prove? It's our friends and family. They'd be happy with Christmas Eve pizza, to be honest." He decided not to add that the guests would probably prefer Christmas pizza, as Percival's refined culinary skills would be lost on them.
Frowning, Percival leaned back against the kitchen counter. "It's our first Christmas in this house, and we're engaged. I want everything to be flawless."
"Is 'flawless' making yourself so tense you can't enjoy the night?"
"No." Percival peered at his feet and scowled.
"Let's pare down the menu, then. And the grocery store's open until noon today. I'm sure they have holiday platters of cheese and crackers. I can grab a few rotisserie chickens…"
All color drained from Percival's face as he shuddered. "Gwaine, a grocery store rotisserie chicken? You must be joking. Besides, the turkey's already in the oven." He glanced at his work in progress, zucchini rollatini. "I'll cut out a few menu items, but I need to finish this dish first. Deal?"
"I suppose. But before I get the paper towels, tell me more about my talents. You mentioned before, I have many fine talents." Gwaine pulled Percival right up against him. "Would my bedroom skills count?"
Percival chuckled. "Of course. But if you think you're luring me into bed right now, you are out of your mind."
Gwaine lifted his brows. "What about after dinner tonight?"
"Definitely. Just promise you'll avoid the Scottish whisky."
"But the whisky makes me a wild man in bed."
"You need no help with that."
Gwaine laughed and left the kitchen, but inwardly, he was concerned. He had a major surprise set up for tonight, and he began to wonder if his plan would cause chaos.
XXXX
His nerves wound tighter than a watch spring, Percival tried taking slow, deep breaths to calm himself, but it didn't work. He was behaving ridiculously, and he recognized that, yet he was helpless to stop his frenetic dance around the kitchen — slicing, shredding, dicing, sautéing, and roasting. Percival's anxiety disorder had surged into overdrive. He needed tonight to be perfect. It was Christmas Eve, their closest friends and family were coming over to celebrate, and he had a secret planned, one he had kept from Gwaine for over a month.
As he plucked fresh Brussels sprouts off the stalk, Percival tried to ignore the anxiety consuming him and instead focused on his good fortune. He made an excellent income at his physical therapy practice, and Gwaine was in his final year of medical school. They lived in a luxurious home on the beach, now bedecked with lighted garlands inside and out—that Gwaine had connected to the smart-home system so they pulsed in time to holiday music—and the towering Christmas tree stood in the corner, twinkling with merry reds and greens. And there was that breathtaking view of the surf from the floor-to-ceiling windows on the south side of the house.
Still, the house and the money were not as important as his love for Gwaine. Percival would relinquish all his worldly possessions in a heartbeat if it was a choice between material goods and his fiancé. Gwaine was the love of Percival's life, and they enjoyed a rare, deep connection. They had an incredible life together, so what was there to be anxious about?
"Calm down; it'll be fine," Percival muttered under his breath. It felt so odd, keeping this secret from Gwaine, because they shared everything. However, Percival needed to cling to this secret for only four more hours. Then he could relax. He hoped.
XXXX
Gwaine straightened his tie in front of the mirror and gave himself a once-over. No wild hairs stuck out from his typically unruly brunette mop, and he'd trimmed his beard to an acceptable length.
Percival strolled into the bedroom and stopped short. "What's that around your neck? You never wear a tie."
"Well, I know how much tonight means to you, so I figured I'd dress nicely. Anyway, you're wearing a tie."
"Yes, but I often wear ties. I didn't realize you even owned one."
"I don't." Gwaine grinned. "This is one of yours."
"No wonder I like it."
Gwen beckoned Percival closer. "Come here. Give me a kiss before havoc strikes."
They embraced, then locked lips, sharing a long, luxurious kiss, one with plenty of teasing and tempting. Gwaine wanted to keep Percival pressed against him in this moment of blissful perfection, but the doorbell rang, putting an end to the magic. Their gathering was to be modest in size, twenty-five guests or so, but Gwaine's heart began to race. Any moment now, Percival would learn what was in store for them this evening. The question was, would he go along with it?
"Who do you think is here first?" Gwaine asked. "My money's on Leon and Mithian. They're always on time."
"It could be Arthur and Gwen."
"Definitely not Merlin and Freya. Merlin's probably looking for his shoes while Freya's trying to rush him along."
"I wish Morgana and Will could make it," Percival said. "But when you're a nurse, these holiday shifts come with the territory."
Gwaine barely registered what Percival was saying, he'd grown so nervous and excited. "I'll get the door."
"No way!"
Percival rushed from the bedroom and toward the stairs. This was a silly, childish game they always played, fighting their way to the front door to answer it first, but tonight, that was the last thing Gwaine needed.
At the bottom of the stairs, they all but wrestled their way to the door.
"Ouch! Gwaine, you just elbowed me in the nose! What's wrong with you?"
"Let me get the door!"
"No, let me."
Percival had a significant stride advantage, so he made it to the door first and flung it open. Two people stood there, appearing to be in their sixties or seventies. Gwaine had invited Gaius, but who was this woman standing next to him?
"Hello, Gwaine," Gaius said.
"Hi, Percival," the woman said.
Gwaine and Percival turned to face one another, each waiting for the other man to speak.
"Gwaine, what is going on here?"
Gwaine blew out a long sigh as he ushered their guests inside and shut the door against the wintry chill. "It wasn't supposed to happen like this… Gaius is a wedding officiant. I asked him to come tonight because this was supposed to be a surprise wedding for us, and all our guests know about it. I realize we picked a wedding date in the spring, but I didn't want to wait. And I sort of hoped you might roll with it."
"This cannot be happening." Percival paled to an alarming milk-white again, which seemed to be the theme for the day. Gwaine couldn't figure out if his fiancé was horrified, disappointed, or maybe ready to call off their engagement. What had Gwaine been thinking, planning a secret Christmas Eve wedding without Percival's input? Was Gwaine the most obtuse man who'd ever lived?
"Percival? Please say something."
"Gwaine, this woman here is Alice, the Justice of the Peace that I invited for our surprise wedding."
Gwaine did a double-take. "Wait, what?"
"That's why I've been a total anxious mess today, because I was trying to make tonight perfect, all while trying to hide this massive secret from you. Because the truth is, I love you, and I want to marry you today. I'm tired of waiting."
Gwaine chuckled. "I'm speechless, and that doesn't happen very often. I cannot believe we both planned the same thing."
The doorbell rang again, but this time, Gaius and Alice answered. In rushed all the guests at once, dressed in holiday finery, perplexed expressions on their faces as they looked at the elderly man and woman clad in dark wedding officiant robes.
"Cat's out of the bag," Gwaine explained, leading the group into the living room. "Percival and I tried to surprise each other with a secret wedding, it seems."
"That is priceless," Freya said.
"And totally swoon-worthy," Gwen added. "I've never seen anything more romantic.
"You've set the bar pretty high, guys." Arthur pounded Gwaine and Percival on the back.
Following a round of hugs and laughter, Gwaine took Percival aside. "Should we just have the wedding right now?"
"Why not? The turkey can keep warming in the oven. But, um, what are we supposed to do with two wedding officiants?"
Gwaine shrugged. "Can't they share the duties?"
Hand in hand, Gwaine and Percival walked over to the fireplace, which danced with cheerful flames. Everyone had gathered in front of the gentle warmth, and Alice and Gaius stood side by side.
"Gentlemen, please clasp hands." Gaius looked down and chuckled. "Never mind. I can see you've already done that."
Alice took over. "Before we get to everyone's favorite parts, the vows, the ring exchange, and the kiss, it is my understanding that Percival has a poem he'd like to share."
"Yes, thank you." Percival pulled a neatly folded note out of his pocket and opened it. "This is by the poet Warsan Shire:
"When I love, I love: wholly, thoroughly, completely, drowning in everything.
Every glance can be a conversation,
eyes just playing and saying what needs to be said.
Silence is loud, and the air becomes heavy.
I want you. I want all of you."
"Wow." Gwaine fought tears as a surge of love swelled inside of him. "That was beautiful."
"I understand you also have something to read?" Gaius prompted Gwaine.
"Yeah, though it's not nearly as erudite as Percival's selection. It's from the movie The Wedding Singer." Gwaine whipped out his cell phone and read the words on his screen:
"I wanna make you smile whenever you're sad
Carry you around when your arthritis is bad
All I wanna do is grow old with you
I'll get your medicine when your tummy aches
Build you a fire if the furnace breaks
Oh it could be so nice, growing old with you
I'll miss you
Kiss you
Give you my coat when you are cold
Need you
Feed you
Even let ya hold the remote control
So let me do the dishes in our kitchen sink
Put you to bed if you've had too much to drink
I could be the man who grows old with you
I wanna grow old with you"
"You jerk." Percival sniffled and wiped at his eyes. "You're trying to make me cry."
"I don't think you're supposed to call me a jerk at our wedding," Gwaine said with a laugh.
"But you're my jerk. Forever."
Percival leaned in for a kiss, but Alice placed a hand on his shoulder. "Not yet, young man, though I appreciate your zeal."
The guests laughed, and the ceremony continued. Gwaine didn't focus on the words being spoken. He concentrated on the warmth and emotion so palpable in the room, and on the love and joy alight in Percival's blue-gray eyes. Gwaine would love his husband forever, and nothing could change that.
Yes, this would go down as the best Christmas of all time.
Even though the turkey burned.
THE END