A/N: I probably should have named this story Give Me a Year. I've been dealing with a lot of stress, so thank you for your continued interest and inspiring comments!
Stretched alongside one another, they gaze up through the roofless structure into the night sky.
It's foggy, but their shared warmth just manages to keep out the chill. That, and the help of a thin blanket thoughtfully provided by Arthur.
The air feels crisp with the promise of an unwritten future, and though they do not speak of it yet, both are wondering what lies ahead.
Even what the dawn may bring seems a mystery.
For a while words are inadequate; they communicate through open looks and amorous touches as darkness gathers around them.
"Can I kiss you again?" he asks after a period of silence.
She almost laughs. "Arthur, are you really asking me after everything we just did?"
He must be as sore and bumped up as she is from their earlier recklessness, tumbling around on the weather-beaten timber beneath them.
Once protesting, disgruntled joints soothed by his touch soon register a satisfying ache, and she melts into the tired planks.
Whether it's the bowing oak or her own body that finally yields, she does not know, but neither does she care to wonder.
"I know, but it's all so..." Arthur bites his lip to stop himself grinning.
It reminds her of the lovely contrast between his mouth, soft and pliant, and the faint shadow of stubble that scratched her skin.
"New?" she suggests, feeling much the same.
"Yeah." He tugs her closer and rolls them so she's lying on top of him in a mess of limbs.
"Well, mostly new. The touching, at least." Gwen plays with his hair, brushing it back from his forehead. She can feel him studying her face; his smile won't fade.
"Mmm, I like the touching." In a weak effort, he lifts his head to reach her lips. "What shall we tell the others?"
Gwen arches a brow. "What others? Your sister practically pushed me into your lap, and Merlin and Freya were no better. I'll bet even your father will have a few words to say."
Arthur chuckles. "Thought as much. Merlin and Freya always—"
"Always what?" Sitting up, she straddles his hips and leans down to kiss him. Having the freedom to do so is making it irresistible.
Arthur, too, can barely keep himself from touching her, yet he turns his head toward one outstretched hand, fiddling with the zipper of her discarded jacket.
"Always what, Arthur?" she guides his face back to her. His coyness is disconcerting in light of everything they'd been through.
"Well...they always teased me that Viv was just another back up girl, and that I was wasting my time without you."
"What?" she bursts out laughing at the absurdity. "Those two? They'd never say such a thing."
"Believe me, they said it. Maybe not in so many words, but that was the gist. Until I got the point." He lifts himself up so his face is level with hers and takes advantage, nuzzling her nose. "They were right. I can't believe we wasted so much time apart."
"We didn't," Gwen reasons. "We weren't ready for each other."
Though she hadn't thought of it until now, it is undoubtedly true. Arthur two years ago wasn't right for her, even if she wanted him then.
"Speak for yourself. I've always been ready for you."
His words (not to mention the feel of his body between her thighs) do strange things to her insides, but she has to disagree.
"Even when you dated Mithian?"
"Well... Maybe for a while there I wasn't ready," he laughs, scratching his head. "Poor Mithian."
"I actually liked her."
Arthur shrugs. "She didn't have your sense of humor."
"No?" Shamelessly she lights up, and he kisses her smiling lips.
"No. Or your...hair." He kisses her again, tugging gently at the ringlets. "Or nose. Or freckles..."
Her smile wilts, and it isn't lost on Arthur.
Drawing in a breath, he doesn't speak at first, but reaches out to finger the silver necklace that's caught on her collarbone.
"Gwen... I understand if..." he starts, delicately adjusting the chain so it falls straight. "It's okay if you miss him. You were together for a long time."
"I know it's okay, I just..."
"I mean, I know you love him," Arthur's eyes flit up to meet hers again, steady and full of compassion.
He knows, and he doesn't hold it against me.
How had she been so lucky, to know two men like Gwaine and Arthur?
"I'm in love with you."
"I know that too, now." His smile is contagious. Warm, broad hands cradle her hips; his touch full of aching affection. "That's all that matters to me."
Gwen nods, reflecting. "Is it the same for you, with Vivian?"
There's no reason for it, but she doesn't fear his answer, and it feels good.
"I don't think so," he says after short consideration. "I care about her, but it's as if she never really knew me because I didn't let her. I couldn't truly love her, knowing that."
He pauses, struggling with how to continue. Then his gaze focuses with renewed light.
"But then there's you. You just... I don't know. You have this way of putting me at ease. Of opening me up like there's nothing to it. Like my thoughts are bare to you, and it's okay. I can talk to you like I talk to myself. Except you're much smarter than I am."
She finds his hand and covers it with her own. It would be easy to tease him for the latter admission, but her heart is too full to think of it.
He turns his palm so that her fingers, small and plain, rest inside it. The wistful smile becomes a smirk. "And of course, there's your terrible poker skills, your inability to hold a drink properly—"
"Actually, you'll recall I held a great number of drinks properly."
"You're right," he laughs. "I think you may have held up better than Merlin last time."
Gwen snorts. "Everyone holds up better than Merlin."
"Maybe so, but you're something special, Guinevere," his voice softens.
"That night—" She perks up as the thought occurs to her. "When I was drunk and you took me home. I remembered later... I told you to stay."
"You did." Arthur smiles at the memory, his hand brushing at the ends of her hair where it falls down her back.
"And you stayed."
"I did."
"What did I—?"
He takes his time, leaning in to kiss the question on her lips.
"You pulled me onto your bed and asked me to hold you," he plays with one of her curls between his fingers, then tugs her back down with him to demonstrate, turning her back so it's against his chest, with his legs scooped up behind hers. "Just like this."
She smiles, enjoying the rush from his unreserved closeness, though there is also a tinge of embarrassment. "God, I'm sorry. That must have been strange and...and cruel, I suppose. For both of us."
A sigh of warm breath tickles her neck, and Arthur holds her tighter. "I nearly had a heart attack when you asked me."
"But you did it, anyway?"
"Of course I did. I wanted to so badly and I thought, what if this is my only chance?"
The thrill in her chest makes it difficult to form words. "You were on the couch when I got up."
"Yeah," he says a little sheepishly. "Honestly, I wasn't sure if you would remember or if you'd even want to, so after you fell asleep... I figured it would be better if I moved and gave us both the opportunity to forget."
"Because of Vivian," Gwen guesses softly. She can't blame Arthur for feeling guilty. Even knowing that Gwaine accepted her feelings for Arthur wasn't enough to assuage her own shame.
"No," he surprises her. "Because I'd been so close to you for so long, I was afraid things would be messed up if you realized what I felt for you. Vivian wasn't ever part of that. She wasn't even sick that night, or that week. We had another row before Merlin and Freya's party and she refused to go out. We had already decided that night that it wasn't going to work out, but we didn't want to put a shadow over the celebration."
"Oh," is her lame reply. "Then it was...me that you fought about?"
"Among other things." Arthur sighs, the hand around her waist reaching to pick meditatively at a chipped spot in the floorboards.
As he speaks behind her, she fixates on the bent, rusted nail protruding from the opposite wall. She has the overwhelming urge to push it in, to make it straight and level, but she resists. Instead, she moves her hand to touch the fine hairs on his forearm.
"She was wondering why I hadn't spoken to her about marriage yet, and she was just so obsessed with creating this lifestyle that I didn't really care for. And Sefa—she told her, naturally, what she saw that day at the restaurant, even if she didn't understand it. I tried to explain, but Vivian kept asking me why you knew more about me than she did. Why I never talked to her. She was right, really."
It's inconsistent with her idea of the two of them, and yet it's all too easy to imagine.
Gwen shakes her head. "That's my fault. She felt so bad for you when she found out about your mother, and I told her you weren't comfortable sharing things with many people. I think she took it personally."
Arthur's lips brush her hair. "That's true enough. But it's not your fault for being the person I feel I can share myself with, Guinevere. I just never felt that way with her. I thought if I kept that part separate, everything would be fine. I thought we could be happy if we didn't have to bring up those kinds of things with each other. I guess I sort of ruined it for both of us by doing that. She didn't deserve that."
Shifting, Gwen turns to face him and props her head on her hand while she plays with his shirt. "And what about Gwaine?"
His chest rises and shudders with another deep, considering breath.
"I knew he felt something for her. It was hard not to see, even if he flirts with everybody. But I couldn't bring myself to be angry at him for it because he had you. I was more jealous about that, I think. And—and that he could make you happy. I mean, I want you to be happy. But I was sick about it."
"We did make each other happy for a while, that's true. It was sort of by mutual agreement that neither of us could have what we wanted, but we could have fun together."
"Yeah," Arthur winces, but there is neither malice nor judgment in his voice. "It seemed like you did."
"What do you mean?" Gwen asks.
It hardly seemed as though Arthur had noticed them, but she supposes if she were overly conscious of he and Vivian, then it isn't a stretch to think Arthur had paid close attention to her and Gwaine as well.
"I love you both. Gwaine's one of my best mates, and despite all the egotism and bragging he does... I know he was taking care of you and that he genuinely cares for you. But, that didn't make it any easier to bear. When his hands were all over you—"
"Vivian was just as bad, you have to admit."
"Well, maybe, but—"
"You think I liked seeing that all the time?" she snorts. "Or watching the two of you creep off to bed together?"
Momentarily dumb-stricken, his response is cautious when it comes. "Would you think me a terrible person if I told you that you were never entirely...out of my mind?"
"What does that have to do with—?" When the realization hits, her hand flies to her mouth. "Oh. But—Did Vivian know that?"
Arthur looks pained. "There was once when I was really, very drunk, after Mo's birthday? You were wearing that—that silver dress, and the red lipstick, and I danced with you. I thought... Right then, I thought I'd... But then it was over and... Well, later, when she and I were... I may have said something by accident."
"Oh my God. What did she say?"
"Nothing. She pretended not to hear me, but I know she must have. Then—After, she didn't speak. Just went to sleep without another word. The next day she acted like nothing happened."
"That's terrible; poor Vivian."
"I felt like such a knob, but I was paralyzed about bringing it up. I didn't know if she had her own way of dealing with it or if she wanted to talk about it at all. I think that was our biggest issue, outside of...well, this," she feels his arms tighten around her. "We were awful about communicating. I was."
"But you were always so sickeningly happy." Even as she says it, Gwen revises the memories she has of them as a couple and realizes perhaps there were a few hints of tension between Arthur and Vivian that she'd overlooked in her own heartache.
Arthur sighs. "It took me a while to learn that Vivian's the type of person who thinks if you can convince others you are happy, then you will be."
"I guess I never thought of it that way," she says.
They lapse into silence, but the agitated growl of Arthur's stomach disturbs their quiet ruminating. He mumbles to himself, his voice strained as he reaches over her head for something nearby.
There's a click and Gwen shields her eyes as a beam of light materializes.
"I do want to see you," he says. She imagines she can feel warmth from the weak light as if it were his caress, gliding over her feet and up her calves and thighs.
She hums pleasurably but slaps it out of his hand with a giggle before it can reach any higher. Then there's an ominous rolling sound followed by dampening thuds as the torch escapes their sanctuary and falls to the ground below.
"Oops," she draws her bottom lip between her teeth. "You'll definitely have to wait until morning now."
He chuckles, wrapping his arms around her again. "Then I'll kiss you until then," he murmurs, doing just that.
Some time later, he remembers his purpose and blindly retrieves an apple from the same basket that had held the torch.
Gwen forgot it was there, but now she recalls the thick, rounded weave of it scraping her knuckles when she'd flung her arms over her head.
"Are you hungry?" he offers.
She grasps his wrist and guides the apple toward her mouth so she can take a bite.
They share the rest, with Arthur holding it out to her for every other bite until he forgets and just watches her finish it. Together they lick their sticky fingers, laughing and wishing for more.
"What do we do now?" Gwen asks after a while, though she may not be ready to hear the answer.
"Well, like you said, we should probably wait 'til it's light out."
"That's not what I—" but she stops herself as she feels his body shaking with laughter under her. "Arthur!"
"I think I've got a splinter in my arse. What should we do about that?"
"Arthur."
His laughter subsides and he turns to look at her, smoothing the hair behind her shoulder and trailing fingertips down her back. Leaning over, he touches his lips to her shoulder with reverence. The heat of his breath against her skin spreads a glow through her body.
"I don't know," he breathes finally. "But it feels right."
Gwen rolls her body into him and kisses his chest in silent agreement, but she's too afraid to say anything more lest the dreamlike episode be disrupted.
Everything seems too perfect to be real.
So she's content to lay her cheek over his heart and listen to the steady thump until his pulse increases and his breath comes shorter.
"Why don't we do this, for real?" he asks, and she doesn't need to notice the small tremor in his voice to realize he'd been practicing the question in his head, but had only just summoned the courage to say it.
"Do what?"
It's a stupid question, because she knows what he's referring to, but it buys her time as her own heart begins to pound.
"This," he squeezes her closer and kisses her nose. "Us."
She slides her palm over his stomach like she's wanted to for so long, storing up the sensation.
"Us. Can you imagine it?" She tries out the word, liking—no, loving the sound of it, and yet it's Gwaine's words from nearly a year ago that echo back to her, more sorrowful now than they were ever meant to be. "I give it a year," she jokes with a touch of bitterness.
But Arthur's not laughing. There are a few beats of silence during which she begins to regret her response, fearing she's damaged something.
"I'll give you all of them," he says so quietly, the words are almost swallowed by the thickening fog.
When she looks up at him with confusion, he leans on his elbow to look down at her face in the darkness.
"I will give you every year." He pronounces the words slowly, deliberately, the blue eyes darkened to midnight and open to her scrutiny.
He is completely serious.
She wants to say, You're crazy. Or, You can't mean that.
But everything she knows of him is telling her that he does.
So instead, she lifts his fingertips to her lips and kisses them.
"How about we start with the first one?"
