As The World Unwinds About Them
A/N: A little fluffy episode tag taking place just after 1x13, in celebration of the final episode and a damn good series. Enjoy!
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"This is quite the best cake I have ever tasted," Much sighed, contentedly.
"Well, there is certainly not a man more deserving of it," Marian nudged him affectionately, and Much blushed.
The outlaws had gathered in Marian's bed chamber. They had, with great effort and ceremony, kidnapped what had been intended as Guy and Marian's wedding feast, and carted it back across to Knighton (distributing what they could not carry to what poor and needy they passed on the way). They had then, with even greater effort and ceremony, winched it all up to Marian's bedroom window and stood outside singing uproariously until she let them in – though not before some questioning had taken place as to precisely how much of that rather potent blueberry ale they had managed to consume over the course of the trip.
(They had, it turned out, consumed most of it).
Once they were in, however, things quickly took on the air of something rather like a celebration.
"Any more of that venison anywhere?" Allan, like most of the outlaws, was on the floor. The feast was spread out, picnic style, across the boards, the eaters scrambling between plates, sitting in what had once been a circle.
"I think Little John's had it all," Much told him, "but there's some very good pork pie if you want it."
"I have not had it all," Little John retorted, "most of it's found its way down your gullet and you know it."
"I swear it hasn't – I've been sticking strictly to cake this evening," Much told him, firmly.
"I don't care who's had it," Allan interrupted them, "just pass me that pie!"
"Here, but only if you give me one of those – ah – what you call them?" Djaq held up the requested pie, "sweet meats."
"This one?" Allan selected one off a platter.
Djaq shrugged, "that'll do. Here is your pie."
"And your sweet meat, ma'am," Allan grinned at her.
Djaq shook her head, "too much ale in you, Allan."
"Me?" Allan put on his most innocent face (which, to be fair, was not wholly convincing), "I am perfectly sober, I can assure you."
"Liar. You are drunk as a… drunk – you are very, very drunk," Will gave him a poke with his toe, "and there's no denying that."
"And yet here I am, denying it," Allan shrugged, "speaking of which – where's that blueberry ale gone?"
Djaq began to giggle in a most un-Djaq-like fashion and shook her head.
"Djaq's drunk it all," Will concluded, lying down between a stack of bread rolls and a roast chicken.
"I have not!" Djaq protested, through her giggles.
"You have!" Allan poked her, "honestly – you're meant to be the – the- sensible one."
"No!" Djaq shook his head, "it was not me! It wasn't – it was Marian!"
"It was not!" Marian promptly broke out of the private little sphere she and Robin seemed to have concocted for themselves in one corner of the room to defend herself, "I never had more than a sip!"
"Liar!" Djaq cried, still giggling, "I saw you!"
"Well," Marian chewed her lip, leaning back on her hands to contemplate the walk-in picnic her bedroom floor had become, "I don't think I had quite as much as Allan did, at least."
"I keep telling you, I'm not – I'm not – " Allan broke off the hiccup, "drunk!"
This only caused Djaq to collapse into deeper hysterics – Little John, who was finishing a pigeon pie, began to chuckle to himself and the rest of the outlaws followed suit, until nobody was quite sure why they were laughing.
Robin and Marian swiftly retreated back into their private sphere. Marian was still in her wedding dress (though, if Robin had much more to do with it, she wouldn't be for much longer), and both were still grubby and bloody and muddy from the day. This, however, was not acting as much of a deterrent – kisses, once started, are hard to stop, particularly when fuelled by that much blueberry ale.
"Oh, for Pete's sake, save something for your wedding night!" Little John ordered, groaning.
"Ah, leave 'em be," Allan waved a hand, "don't bother me none."
"If I close my eyes, I can hardly see them," Much remarked, shutting his eyes in demonstration, then added, a moment later, "Ah – no, sorry. They appear to be burned to the insides of my eyelids"
Djaq cackled delightedly, clapping her hands.
"They deserve a break," Will was still lying down, though he had temporarily propped himself up to peer at what Robin and Marian were doing, "a moment's rest, don't they? Can I have some of that preserve?"
"As much as you want, my good man," Allan handed him the plate, "but does anybody know where that blueberry ale is? I'm not being funny or nothing, but I am quite thirsty now."
"You have had enough of that stuff," Djaq told him, "have some water, better for you."
"But not as tasty…" Allan moaned.
"No whining!" Little John scolded, "not today – Robin's done quite enough of that lately."
Most in the room where quite readily expecting Robin to, at the very least, throw something at John for that – but he didn't. Luckily for Little John, the leader of the gang was, at that precise moment, completely and utterly oblivious to anything other than the woman currently ensconced in his arms.
"Could probably say just about anything to him now…" Allan mused, a mischievous glint in his blue eyes. "Robin? Robin…?"
"Robin, I find you irritating – and your choice in hair styles deeply… dubious!" Much announced, firmly (and to much hysterical laughter from Allan, Will and Djaq).
If Robin heard him, he paid no attention, choosing instead to plant a row of kisses along Marian's jaw and murmur (yet more) sweet nothings into her ear. Marian had curled her fingers around the back of his neck, touching his nose, gazing at him with that sweet abandon tempered by cynicism that made the moment both appealing and… well, sickening, for anybody not involved in it.
"Robin?" Allan began flicking bread crumbs at their leader, "Ro-bin…"
"You know this is only going to get worse," Much folded his arms, shaking his head, "now that Marian's no longer betrothed to Gisborne. We shan't be able to keep Robin away from her. I don't believe he ever intends to let her out of his sight again."
"In case someone else tries to stab her?" Djaq raised her eyebrows.
"In case someone else tries to marry her," Much grimaced.
"Well that's easily solved," Will sat up, "he should just marry her himself."
"Oh, now, you see, that would be easy and straight forward and somewhere close to normal!" Much cried, "so of course it's not going to happen – at least, not for a good few years yet, oh no. They'll drag this out for months, just to make everybody's lives more complicated. You'll see!"
"So, are they not betrothed any more?" Allan enquired, lazily, "Guy and Marian, I mean?"
"Well, I don't know about you, but I would think that punching a man in the face and then running from the alter does rather terminate a relationship, yes," Much told him.
"Did you actually see her do it?" Allan enquired.
"Well… I heard it," Much replied, "I was coming out of a pond at the time, but there was a definite thud and then Marian came tearing like some great veiled lightening bolt on legs out of the church – so I just presumed."
"That is rather wonderful, as a story to tell the grandchildren, don't you think?" Djaq asked, grinning over another sweat meat.
"Grandchildren?" Allan raised his eyebrows, "a little ahead of yourself, aren't you? They aren't even married yet!"
"Oh, but they will be," Djaq was emphatic, "and they will have such lovely children."
"Yes!" Much was enthused, "and I shall be a God father and they shall all call me uncle Much and come running when I visit from Bonchurch."
"And they had better be naming them all after us," Little John remarked, "Lord knows, we've done enough for them!"
"Now that will be a sight," Allan shook his head, "lots of little Robins and Marians all named Allana and William and Jacqueline and John and Mucho-anna and…"
"Mucho-anna?!" Much demanded, as the rest of the gang dissolved into yet more fits of helpless giggles.
"Perhaps we shouldn't be naming the children before they are conceived," Will murmured, "seems a little like tempting fate."
"Not long before they are conceived at this rate!" Little John grimaced, "oi! Lovebirds! I said – save something for the wedding night!"
"You are giving us indigestion, the pair of you!" Much scolded, as Allan began flicking bread crumbs at them again.
Robin finally resurfaced, looking only a tad peeved, "do you mind?"
"Well, yes, actually," Much retorted, "you are not the only people in this room, thank you very much."
"At least wait until we're in the vaguest semblance of a drunken stupor," Little John waved a hand, grimacing.
"Aha!" Allan sat up, suddenly, distracting everybody.
"What?" Much asked.
Allan held up a flask, "the blueberry ale! I was sitting on it!"
"Typical!" Djaq cried, exasperated.
"Can I have some?" Will asked, hopefully.
"After me," Allan took a swig, "there, then, my boy – don't get too plastered, alright?"
"I am not your boy," Will rolled his eyes, taking the flask, "and I can hold my liquor better than you can."
"You?" Allan laughed, "want a bet? I've drunk men twice my size under the table, and you are not twice my size."
"You are already drunk," Will protested, "I am hardly giddy."
"'Cause you've had barely more 'an a sip and some water all evening," Allan pointed out.
"Alright, alright!" Robin interrupted, before an argument could blossom into existence, "now that Allan has, oh so helpfully, rediscovered the ale, may I propose a toast?"
"Oh, propose away, valiant leader!" Allan cried, capping the flask and tossing it to Robin.
"Has everyone got something to toast with?" Will asked, "'cause I haven't."
There was a general flurry of activity as various forms of toasting material were passed about – Much insisted that he was going to toast with cake – and mugs were found and the last of the blueberry ale was shared out.
Robin stood up and cleared his throat. Marian had shuffled round to sit with Much, which afforded a better view than sitting at Robin's somewhat muddy ankles.
"Alright," Robin began, which was as good away as any to begin a toast, "I would like to propose a toast – to Marian. And her general status of un-deadness and un-weddedness, long may it continue."
"That's a bit of a mouthful," Allan groaned.
"I'm not finished yet!" Robin told him, "to Marian, and also to King Richard, may he soon return home – and to all of us, for a day's hard work and a very good feast."
"Do we have to repeat all of that?" Allan scratched his head.
"Just drink up, you twerp!" Little John gave him a thwack upside the head.
"To punching out the groom at the alter!" Djaq cried raising her mug.
"Particularly when he's a mean, revolting, lying bastard," Much agreed, and put an entire slice of cake into his mouth at once.
"Here, here!" Came the obligatory call from the rest of the outlaws, and a great deal more blueberry ale was consumed, as Marian began to laugh again.
"Stop, stop!" She waved a hand, before they could all finish the ale, "one more toast, I think."
"What then, Marian?" Robin asked, amused.
"Sit down, Robin!" Marian ordered, straightening her back but not getting to her feet.
Robin shrugged and did as he was told – they were now almost back in a circle.
Marian cleared her throat, raised her mug, and then put an arm around Much, "to Much. Who is a most valiant and noble Lord Much of Bonchurch, and who came to my rescue, even if I did rather thwart him in the attempt, long before Robin did, and who risked all to save his master's heart and who Robin will be make a full and thorough apology to later, will you not, dearest?"
Robin rolled his eyes in consent.
Marian continued, before Much could melt into the floor with embarrassment, "who is perhaps the bravest and most kind-hearted, long-suffering man I have ever met and whom Robin does not deserve an inch of kindness from, let alone what compassion he showed today – who ordered me to do the right thing, prevented me doing something unspeakably awful and saved the lives of all his fellow outlaws at least once today."
There was a roar of appreciation from the remaining outlaws, and Much about had his back split by Little John, who thumped him between the shoulder blade appreciatively. Much had buried his head in his hands – what could be seen of his face was absolutely crimson with embarrassment (what couldn't be seen were his eyes, which were brimming with tears).
"And I am sorry that they threw you in the pond," Marian added, patting him remorsefully.
"That's alright," Much mumbled, his voice barely audible, "really, my lady – you didn't have to you."
"Yes I did," Marian hugged him so fiercely that Much was forced to laugh through his tears in surprise, "my dearest Much – you saved me, and you saved Robin, and I didn't even have time to thank you."
"I was just doing my job…" Much turned, if it was possible, a shade redder.
"Let him go before he implodes, Marian," Robin advised.
Marian smiled and let the manservant go, though not before kissing his cheek and drawing cheers of delight from the rest of the gang – at which point Much looked as if he didn't know whether he wanted to dance a jig or crawl out of his own skin with embarrassment.
"Have some more cake, man, and buck up a little," Little John handed Much another plate.
"Thank you," Much muttered, sniffing and taking the cake.
"This has been a most interesting day," Robin stretched.
"Stressful is the word you are looking for," Marian told him.
"That too," Robin agreed.
"A mightily good end, though," Allan remarked, "pass me some of that chicken, Will."
"I think my stomach may explode soon," Will sighed, shunting the chicken towards Allan.
"Not mine," Allan patted his, "still got plenty of room here."
"Well, do try not to make yourself sick," Marian reminded him, "this is my bedroom."
"Anything for the un-dead lady of the hour," Allan grinned and made mocking half-bow of the head.
"How long am I going to be known as that?" Marian groaned.
"Until Allan has drunk enough to make him wake up tomorrow having forgotten the events of today," Djaq told her.
"Hey!" Allan cried, "I do intend to remember today, you know. At least some bits of it – this bit, for instance, I would like to hold onto for future reference." He gave Djaq a nudge.
"Reference to what?" Much wanted to know.
"Dunno," Allan shrugged, "everything. For comparison – this is as good as it gets, right? This is my benchmark. Next time I'm happy, I'll compare. Anything gets better than this, I'll know I'm having the single greatest day of my life – or, at least, the best supper."
"I don't think anything's ever going to compare to this blueberry ale, though," Will shook his head.
"No," Allan agreed, "no, that will be a bit hard to beat."
"And you would not have had it if you had run off to Scarborough," Little John pointed out, "bare that in mind, boys."
"We came back, didn't we?" Allan asked, peeved.
"Only just," Much needled, "could have at least left us a note or something."
"The point is, they came back," Robin intervened to stop another argument erupting, "and we are very glad they did, and we will not say another word about it, alright?" He had put his arm around Marian, who was leaning against him, looking sleepy and content.
"You would just have left me," Djaq murmured, ignoring Robin. She had lain down on the floor boards, not far from Will, and was staring at the ceiling.
Allan frowned, "you would have been alright."
Djaq snorted, "But would you have been?"
"No," Will pointed out, quietly – he had reached cautiously across and was, very gently, touching her up-turned fingertips with his own, "'s why we came back. Who lives without Djaq once they've lived with her?"
Djaq withdrew her hand sharply, though she was smiling at the ceiling.
"I do like this cake," Much said, through a mouthful, "honestly, have you all tasted it?"
"Yes, Much, thank you," Robin smiled wearily.
"And my stomach may explode," Will repeated.
"Give us some more then, Much," Allan sighed, reaching for it.
Much handed him the plate and slid down to lie on the floor, patting his stomach. "I am quite content," he sighed and closed his eyes.
"For once," Little John shook his head.
"I am going to pretend I didn't hear that," Much remarked, keeping his eyes closed.
It was at that point that Edward put his head around the door.
Marian and Robin sprang apart like naughty children – but the other outlaws didn't stir.
"Ah," Edward sighed, "I was half hoping that my age had finally caught up with me and I was hearing voices…"
"Afraid not, sir," Allan waved a hand.
"Care to join us, Edward?" Robin offered, jovially.
"I… think not," Edward shook his head, resignedly, "Marian – where did all this food come from?"
Marian looked a little pained, "best not to ask, father."
"I see," Edward sighed, "need I remind you about the folly of… picnicking outlaws in your bedchamber on the same day you ran from your wedding and they suspended the Sheriff from the ceiling of his own court?"
"I am well aware of it, father," Marian nodded.
Edward gave one last, long-suffering sigh, "alright. If you are sure. I am going to bed – try not to make more noise than is strictly necessary. The court is going to be in absolute uproar tomorrow and no doubt the Sheriff will be out for somebody's blood so it would be well to be thoroughly rested in preparation."
"Yes father," Marian agreed.
"Right then," Edward surveyed the room, a little helplessly, "carry on."
Marian sighed as he left, "a toast to my long-suffering father," she shook her head with amusement.
"He is long suffering," Robin agreed, "remember the time you got stuck up that oak tree?"
"Well at least I managed to get up it!" Marian retorted, "proved you wrong."
"It only took… I don't know…" Robin seemed deeply entertained by the memory, "half the men of Knighton to get you down?"
"Not that many…" Marian protested, "ten, at most."
"Here's to Marian's long suffering father," Allan raised his empty mug, with a grin, "poor man."
"Here's to all of us," Robin grinned, "because we are all magnificent."
"Magnificent!" Little John roared, making Djaq jump and begin to laugh.
"Every one of us," Much agreed, and helped himself to more cake.