AU WHERE MERRY IS IN THE CAMP INSTEAD OF MARIAN WHEN ALLAN COMES LOOKING. IM NOT SURE ABOUT THIS ONE SO PLEASE LET ME KNOW WHAT YOU THINK!
"You could've had my eye out!"
"Oooh, you've got some nerve." Merry breathed. She was trying to wrench her dagger from the tree bark. He didn't back away or move forward, so their shoulders were touching.
"What do you want, anyway?"
"I was only looking for Marian."
"Marian?" She raised her eyebrows and gave a short little bark of a laugh. "Marian?" She turned from him and walked to the other side of the little clearing. He followed her.
"For Gisbourne?" She asked lightly, turning around. "Or for you?"
"For Gisbourne!" He said, disgusted, picking up what she was putting down. "It's not like that, blimey!"
She smirked.
"She'd never take you anyway." She said.
"Thanks." He said.
"It's true."
Where there should've been an uncomfortable silence, there was a violent rustling of leaves as realization dawned on her. She advanced on him, quickly. Hand shuddering over her dagger hilt.
"You're not going to tell him where she is!" She said. Her eyes were flashing. It wasn't a question, it was a demand.
"Of course not!" he protested. She stopped. His back hit the tree. They both looked mildly surprised.
"You're not." She said again, and he heard the wonderment. His eyes were wide, like he was hurt.
"No!" he said. "Look, I'm not all bad, am I?" She gave an ardent little chuckle.
"Yeah." She said darkly.
"I'm not."
When she spoke again, she wasn't looking at him.
"She's gone out with Robin and the others." She said shakily. "Tell Gisbourne –" Her voice immediately stopped wavering.
"Tell Gisbourne he can go fuck himself." She whispered. He laughed without thinking.
"I'm not being funny," he said "But do you want to see me die bloody?" When she looked at him, a smile ghosted her face. Her eyes were wet. She tried to hide it.
"No." She said. "You are a traitor." She spat the word like she was angry, but he knew better. "But no."
"I'm not all bad." He said again. "And for the record." He had angrily cut across her impending retort. "I'd never, ever go for Marian. Not with you around." It wasn't flirtatious or suggestive, it was demanding and angry. It was putting-my-foot-down tone. It was offended and hurt. The teasing, the playfulness, the sarcasm, was over. She looked disbelieving at him.
"Don't start that."
"But I said it last time, didn't I?" He looked angry. "I love you. I meant it, Merry, I wont take it back."
"Well I won't return it." She snarled. Then, in a softer tone, "I can't."
His mouth formed a thin line. His blue eyes pierced her. Then, without warning or build-up, without tenderness, he kissed her. Hard, on the mouth. His kisses were hard and misplaced, but also gentle and frequent and familiar, and when she unwillingly closed her eyes and opened them again, he was looking at her, hurt and sadder than she had ever seen him.
"Only checking." He muttered. "Only hoping." And then he was gone.
Allan a Dale sat in his room for three hours, feigning illness and wondering what he had been thinking. What the hell had he been thinking?
