Disclaimer: heh you know the drill by now. Nothing you recognise belongs to me.
Lancelot scrubbed a bar of soap through his hair and grimaced as the shower once again capriciously decided to go from almost boiling to freezing. Shivering under the spray that felt like needles against his skin, he washed as quickly as he could, turned off the water and grabbed the threadbare towel that he had left by the sink. The material was scratchy when he rubbed his face with it, catching on the stubble that had sprouted on his chin. Tracing the outline of his jaw, he wondered if he should shave. It might make him look a little more presentable, and women's skin was sensitive; if he were to kiss Jenny goodnight then he didn't want to ruin that pretty soft skin with stubble rash.
Arthur, bless and curse him had made sure that he had basic toiletries, and so Lancelot took advantage of the disposable razors that were in the bathroom cupboard. Might as well keep in practice when it came to shaving,he thought, carefully scraping away the bristles from his chin. It wouldn't be too long until the only personal grooming appliances left would be traditional cut-throat razors, and since he was capable of cutting himself on Gillette's safety razors he might have to re-assess the pro and cons of being clean shaven in the near future.
Drying off, he tossed the wet towel over the shower curtain rail, and smiled at the thought that after all these years Arthur's obsessive tidiness had finally rubbed off on him. No more dropping his damp towels onto the ground and expecting someone else to pick them up; not that there actually was anyone to pick them up for him, but still. His lips twitched in a smile- perhaps he was finally growing up.
The amusement died when he caught sight of himself in the mirror behind the bathroom door. While the backdrop to his reflection was hardly flattering, it certainly seemed to be apt; he looked as destroyed as the bomb ravaged bathroom did. Dark eyes turned almost black by the shadows beneath them, his skin pale apart from the bruises that decorated his ribcage in patterns of lavender and yellow, and that was before he even got to the neatly stitched but bloody painful gunshot wound in his thigh. Lancelot studied his reflection and wondered at his presumption at anticipating a kiss at the end of the evening. He looked more likely to need an ambulance than a tumble beneath the sheets.
Leaning down he gripped the chipped edges of the sink, watching as the last of the water gurgled down the plug hole. He felt his heart start to hammer in his chest and forced himself to breathe slowly.
Charm had got him a long way in life. His good looks further. But now.. If he were honest with himself, a state of mind that he preferred not to indulge in, he felt utterly lost. He had been a decent enough fighter, but Saxon's threat was gone. He didn't know anything about re-building or plumbing or anything that would be of use at the camp. What use was he to anyone? Watching his knuckles turn from tan to pink, Lancelot struggled to keep his equilibrium. A droplet of water seemed to take an age to slide down the side of the basin and he forced himself to hold his breath until it eventually disappeared into the drain before lifting his head and looking into the mirror again.
The exhausted man looking back at him looked both familiar and alien. Childishly sticking his tongue out at his reflection, Lancelot dragged a comb through his hair and dressed in the least grubby combat pants and shirt that he could find.
Jenny was being kind because he had been kind to Lucan. Quid pro quo and all that.. It was her attempt at a courtesy not a date. But maybe he could make the boy feel a bit better, and given all that Lucan had been through in the past month he couldn't begrudge him that.
The barracks were blessedly quiet as he limped down the corridor, and when he descended the stairs that led outside towards the broad swathe of grass leading to the woods, he remembered why. The party had been organized weeks ago but he had had little interest and nothing to do with it. Outside the main dining hall several chicken carcasses turned slowly upon a makeshift spit, on another large pig. A half dozen corn on the cobs were being fished off the wire that covered the fire and snatched up as soon as they had cooled by the young and old alike before being swiftly replaced. The camp sheltered people of all races and faiths, but most were just willing to find an excuse for a celebration. Halloween was an odd choice when it came to throwing a party, but since all the most vocal religious factions were equally opposed to it in the end the roast had brought everyone together even if it had been done by mutual antagonism that dissipated when faced with good food and excited children .
Almost tripping over two small boys who were racing around the barracks in what he presumed to be some sort of game, Lancelot made his way through the path that had been trodden through the long grass that separated the military camp from the refugees they protected. For once the sky wasn't overcast, and in the slight breeze the trees at the edge of the camp swayed inky black to the music of a plain looking woman with a beautiful voice and a group of Merlin's men playing various instruments, only two of which Lancelot could name. Glancing back he saw Arthur dancing with Guinevere by the bonfire. His brother had none of the woman in his arms' grace, but his contented smile made up for it. When the slender brunette sidestepped and raised herself on tip toe in order to both capture Arthur's lips in a kiss and avoid being trodden on, Lancelot smiled. Good for you, Bruv, he thought. A party and a beautiful girl. About time you had some fun.
And speaking of beautiful girls.
No scratch that. Beautiful women.
The little squares of light that illuminated the windows of the caravan where Jenny and Lucan dwelt glowed bright and warm in the darkness. Wiping suddenly sweaty hands on his combat trousers, the door opened before he had time to knock.
"Come on then, I'm starving." Lucan pushed back the half opened door and trotted back into the living area of the caravan, obviously expecting Lancelot to follow. "We're having pasta. There's no cheese so its not as nice as what my mum used to make but Jenny's good at finding herbs so she puts them on top instead."
Following the boy and only half listening to what he was babbling on about, Lancelot smiled at Jenny whose cheeks were flushed from the heat of the stove, as she stirred something in a saucepan.
"Hi." She gave him a quick grin and waved him over to the little table at the end of the caravan. "Have a seat, I won't be a second. Lucan, could you get our guest a drink?"
Wincing slightly, Lancelot managed to squeeze himself into the the corner seat. The edge of the table dug into his belly and finding a way to arrange his legs that didn't mean pulling his stitches and shifting uncomfortably every five minutes was difficult, but he rested his elbows on the table and watched Lucan fidget restlessly.
"We've only got water really," the blond haired boy said eventually. "There's juice stuff but that tastes like sick. Jenny's kept a bottle of wine back so you can have that if you want."
"Water's fine." Lucan nodded and busied himself with finding several glasses and filling them with water from a bottle in the little fridge.
Jenny brought over several plates and gave Lancelot a nervous smile.
"Sorry about the décor; it was here when I was given it."
"It's..." Lancelot actually looked at the paintings that decorated the caravan. Over the cooker the paint had started to peel, but every other surface was covered with various fantastical creatures. A dragon perched by the skylight, a unicorn cantered towards the door, half obscured by the raincoats hanging on the back of it. He wasn't one for whimsy or fairytales but the effect was oddly charming. Whoever had taken the time to paint the place had had talent. "I was a Tolkien geek as a kid," he said with a smile. "This is great. You're missing a few Orcs though."
Jenny laughed and decanted the pasta into three plates before using a tea towel to remove several pieces of bread from beneath the grill. "There are enough Orcs in the camp already; some blokes need a serious lesson in personal hygiene."
"Not a fan of the rough and ready look then," Lancelot said with amusement.
Jenny slid a plate over to him and a smaller one to Lucan before grabbing her own meal and a handful of cutlery.
"I don't know." Passing around the toast she pretended to consider the question. "I'd rather have Aragorn or Eomer than Legolas – elves sound like too much high maintenance."
Lancelot took a fork-full of pasta and swallowed it. Given the limited rations available it wasn't too bad despite Lucan's less than enthusiastic description of Jenny's cooking.
"This is great," he said honestly. "I can't remember the last time that anyone cooked for me."
Jenny's cheeks flushed prettily and she dropped her eyes to her own meal, obviously embarrassed. "Well it's not much considering what you did for everyone here."
Had Lucan not been watching the both of them with interest Lancelot might have chanced a flirtatious comment, but instead he made small talk about the weather, the expansion of the camp and Tristan and Kate's upcoming wedding. It turned out that Jenny knew Kate from attempting and failing to mend the microwave in the kitchens that had been destroyed by one of Saxon's bombs. Lancelot learned that she had been an electrician before the virus had struck and was doing her best to improve the generators that provided power to the camp. Lucan had ended up with her more by accident than design, but as they chatted and ate, the boy occasionally quizzing him with uncomfortable questions about the war against Saxon and more comfortable questions about his favourite Transformer, it was clear to see why they Jenny and Lucan remained together. They just seemed to fit as though they had always been family, and while Lucan spoke of Dagonet with hero-worship and the two were obviously close, the boy had needed a mother and Jenny had been there to provide one.
Jenny picked up the plates when they were finished and put them in the sink, giving an apologetic look back at the man and boy seated at the table. "Sorry, there isn't any dessert."
Lucan squirmed restlessly, giving a quick glance out of the window, and she took pity on him.
"The Halloween festival is still going on." Glancing hesitantly at Lancelot she tried to keep her composure. Asking him for dinner was one thing, being seen out in public was quite another. There would be gossip, and as a war hero and Arthur's brother he probably had more than a few women warming his bed.
Lancelot smiled, giving a wicked grin he nodded towards Lucan. "I think someone here would like to go and apparently Han has used his explosives training to make up a pretty decent fireworks display. Might as well make the most of it."
"Can we?" Lucan's face was so hopeful that Jenny almost laughed.
"Alright, give me two seconds to find our coats."
Grabbing two anoraks off their pegs, she caught a glimpse of her reflection in the mirror opposite the door. Her eyes were bright, her cheeks pink. For the first time in months she felt almost a little excited and fought the urge to shake her head at herself. Pack it in girl, she told herself firmly.
But when Lucan raced ahead towards the bonfire and Lancelot stumbled, wincing as his wounded leg threatened to give out on him she took his arm and didn't pull away once he had regained his footing.
A/N: Thanks for reading, sorry for the delay. The Lancelot part of the story will be a bit fluffy incase you hadn't noticed. I put him through the wringer in "Chosen" so I thought he deserved a little love.
The lovely DryadWarriorQueen has started Bors and Vanora's story in the "Chosen" universe – It's called "Survival" and is on Ffnet rated M.
LeeMayfair has made some beautiful banners for "Chosen" and "Llynya's Song". Links on my profile page.
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