Gwen's phone rings. Arthur quickly reaches for her phone. Morgana.
"Hi, Morgana," he quietly says into the phone.
"Arthur? Why are you answering Gwen's phone?" she asks.
"Because Gwen is ill and is currently sleeping on my shoulder."
"Ill? What's wrong? Are you ill, too? What happened? Has she seen a doctor?"
"Morgana. She'll be fine. She has a bit of food poisoning, probably from some egg salad. I'm fine; I didn't have any egg salad. Merlin has been to see her. Did I get everything?"
"Sorry. I think so. Does she need anything?"
"I think we're set for now. Tomorrow might be a different story. I need to go to work at noon."
"I can stop in and check on her."
"Would you?"
"Arthur, I don't need a bloody babysitter," Gwen says into his chest.
"She's just going to check on you, love. I didn't ask her to come and stay with you. Although…"
"No." Gwen is firm.
"I heard that," Morgana says, laughing. "She's a little pain in the neck sometimes, isn't she?"
"Yes," Arthur chuckles. "Is there a message I can give her?"
"No, I was just calling to chat. See how her fitting went last night. She can call me whenever she feels up to it. Keep me posted if there's any change, Arthur."
"Will do. Talk to you later."
"'Bye, Arthur."
"How are you feeling?" Arthur asks Gwen.
"Lousy."
"You need to drink some more."
Gwen groans and rolls over, picking up the bottle. She drinks, a little more than last time, still slowly. "Have you eaten anything?" she asks Arthur.
"Not yet."
"Well go eat. Just do it in the kitchen. And don't make any eggs."
He laughs, then says, "You'll be okay?"
"I don't need constant supervision, Arthur. Go."
He gets up. "All right, then. I think I'd like a shower, too. I'll make sure to leave the door unlocked, though, if you need to visit."
"Gee, thanks. Can I have the remote?"
He hands it to her and helps her sit up a bit, propping her up on some pillows.
Arthur is pleased that his shower is not interrupted. Not for himself, he doesn't mind sharing the bathroom with her, but because that means Gwen didn't need to come in. He steps out of the bathroom and wanders down the hall, towel around his waist, when Gwen speeds past him into the bathroom, locking the door.
So much for that.
"Oh, now this is just great." He hears her voice from the bathroom as he dresses. She sounds… irritated. Pulling a shirt on over his head, he goes to investigate.
"Guinevere?"
"As if I didn't have enough do deal with," she complains. A moment later a moan followed by, "Ow."
"What is going on in there?"
"My… monthly visitor is here. Apparently my uterus decided to join the exodus."
Um, yuck. "Surely you knew it was… due, right? Being on the pill and everything?"
"Well, yes, but I've been a little preoccupied today, all right?" A pause, then another quiet moan.
He sighs. "Hang in there, love," he says, placing his hand on the door for a moment before going back to the bedroom.
The bottle of Gatorade is more than half-empty, and Arthur smiles. He looks around the room, tidying things up, chuckling as he finds Gwen's discarded knickers from the previous night five feet away from the rest of their abandoned clothing.
Her phone rings again. Does she always get this many calls? He dumps the armload of clothing into the hamper and picks up her phone. No ID, just a number.
"Hello?"
"Um, hello. May I speak to Gwen, please?"
"She's a little busy at the moment. May I ask who's calling?"
"This is Lisa from Richmond Jewelers."
"Lisa? Arthur Pendragon. Hi."
"Oh! Arthur, what a surprise!"
"Gwen's a bit under the weather at the moment. Is there a message I can give her?"
"Um…" she hesitates. "No. There is a message, but you can't give it to her, I'm afraid."
"Okaayyyy…"
Just then, Gwen comes staggering back in. "Who's on my phone?"
"Oh, Lisa, hold a moment." He turns to Gwen. "The jeweler is on your phone," he tells her, raising an eyebrow.
"Gimme." She holds out a hand. "Go away," she tells Arthur. He hands her the phone, holds up his hands in resignation and exits the room.
"Hello?" she says as she lies back down on the bed, tucking her feet under the covers.
"Oh, dear, you sound like you've been through the ringer," Lisa sympathetically says.
"I sound much better than I feel, believe me. What's up?"
"The ring is in and ready. And it's gorgeous. He's going to love it. So are you."
"Can you hold it for me? I'm going to be down until at least Saturday, so I won't be able to pick it up until Monday at the earliest."
"Of course we can. It will be waiting here for you. And I've been told that the other item will be ready in three weeks to a month."
"That's fine. The wedding isn't until October; he won't get it before then anyway. No problems with the customizations, then?"
"None at all."
"Good. I was a little worried. Keep me posted if anything changes, though."
"I will do that. "
"Thanks for calling."
"Not at all. Make sure that handsome devil takes good care of you, all right?"
"I will. Oh, and Lisa? Spread the word: if you see a food truck called Gerald's, avoid it. It gave me food poisoning."
"Noted, thanks. And I hope you feel better soon," she replies as they hang up.
xXx
The morning passes. Gwen attempts a piece of dry toast at around eleven, and gets half of it down before she just can't any more. Arthur pushes Gatorade on her until she snaps and throws an empty bottle at his head. He ducks, laughing, but decides to leave her alone for a bit nevertheless.
Arthur decides to call his father while he eats his lunch.
"Yes, Arthur?"
"I'm sorry, are you busy?"
"Having lunch. What can I do for you?"
"Talked to Gwen about the house. She's in."
"Excellent." Then Arthur hears him talking to someone with him. "Gwen agreed to the house."
"Oh, good!" a vaguely familiar voice responds in the distance.
"With whom are you lunching?" Arthur asks.
"Tom."
"Tom? What, are you two best mates now?"
"Business associates who have a lot in common," Uther clarifies. Arthur distinctly hears the clink of glasses meeting in a toast.
"Who are you and what have you done with my father?"
"Very funny. Kicking around the flat today, then?" Uther asks
"Actually, no. Gwen is ill, so I'm looking after her," Arthur answers.
"Ill how?" Then to Tom, "Gwen is ill?"
"Really? No! What's the matter?"
"A touch of food poisoning, according to Merlin." Uther repeats this to Tom.
"Oh. So you haven't taken her to a real doctor, then?" he says into the phone.
"Father, honestly. Merlin's word is as good as any doctor's, you know that."
Uther humphs.
"Why don't you trust Merlin's diagnoses?"
"I just don't think it's… right for a man to be a nurse. Don't get me wrong; I like the boy fine. But it's just not natural.
"How very misogynistic of you. Besides, you didn't seem to have a problem with it last year when he treated the black eye you got from that football," Arthur reminds him.
"Well, he was the one that kicked it," Uther retorts.
"Yes, but you walked on to the pitch."
"It wasn't a football pitch, it was my back garden!"
"You knew we were back there and what we were doing."
"I'm not having this argument again." He sighs. "Look, I know Merlin is good at his job. It's just when I see him, I only see that strange skinny boy he always was."
"Yes, and now he's a strange skinny man, and he's an excellent health care professional."
Arthur hears Tom's voice again, but he can't quite make out what he is saying. "Arthur, Tom wants to know if he can speak with Gwen. Can you give her the phone?"
"I'll see if she's awake. I banished myself to the living room after she threw an empty Gatorade bottle at my head."
Uther laughs. "Good for her."
"Guinevere?" Arthur pokes his head through the door.
She turns her head and gives him a look. "You're not here to push more Gatorade on me, are you? Because I assure you, I have been drinking it so I have fresh ammo."
"Your father wants to talk to you." He holds out his phone.
"Why is my father on your phone?"
"He's not. He's on my father's phone."
"What?"
"They're lunching together. Just… here." He hands her the phone.
"Daddy?"
"Hello, Princess, how are you feeling?"
"Terrible."
Gwen and her father chat for a bit until she has to drop the phone quite suddenly and hurry off to the bathroom.
"Tom?" Arthur picks up the phone.
"I'm here. Did she have to…?"
"I think the toast wants out, yes."
"Tell her I love her and I'll call her later."
"I will."
"Here, I'll give you Uther back. Take care of my daughter."
"Yes, sir, you know I will."
"Arthur," Uther's voice comes back. "I'll have my people start drawing up the paperwork for the deed transfer."
"Already?"
"It'll take a little while. Better to be prepared, yes?"
"All right. I'd better go check on Gwen. 'Bye, Father."
"Goodbye, Son."
"Toast all gone?" Arthur asks when Gwen comes back. He's sitting on the bed, back against the headboard. She comes over and lies down, resting her head in his lap.
"Yes. Stupid toast."
She closes her eyes again. Each time she visits the bathroom it wears her out. Arthur sweeps a few errant curls away from her face, frowning slightly with worry.
"Stay here with me," she says, snuggling against his leg. Under normal circumstances, Arthur would be quite aroused with her head on his thigh, clinging to his leg like this, but at the moment all he can do is stroke her hair and worry over her. He turns the volume down on the television so as not to disturb her.
She sighs and he starts to hum softly to her, an Irish folksong that his Gran used to sing all the time.
"Star of County Down," Gwen says quietly, smiling that he would know such a tune.
Arthur keeps humming and stroking her hair. "Do you know the words?" she mumbles.
He stops, pausing a moment before answering. "Probably not," he laughs, knowing she'll bust him first word he gets wrong.
"Too bad," she snuggles into him.
"Go to sleep." He resumes humming, her hand stilling in her hair now.
Once she's asleep, he sings a verse, quietly, just to see if he remembers.
xXx
How's she doing? A text from Merlin.
OK I guess. Sleeping.
M: Good
A: Every time she visits loo it knocks her out
M: Not surprising.
A: How was zoo?
M: I got to pet a puma
A: No way!
M: F specializes in big cats
A: She specialize in anything ELSE?
Arthur waits. Three minutes pass before Merlin texts back.
M: Just so I'm clear. You mean…
A: Yes. That.
M: Not your biz
A: So, then, no
M: Didn't say that
A: !
M: :)
A: WHEN?
M: Last weekend
A: Happy for you
M: Thanks
A: Youdidn't tell me
M: Sorry.
A: OK. I know youdon't like to kiss & tell
M: G drinking?
A: Yes. Threw a bottle my head
M: LOL why?
A: Kept nagging her todrink
M: Symptoms same?
A: Yes
M: Good
A: G waking up now.
M: Will stop in later
A: OK
Gwen rolls away and heads for the bathroom. Arthur sighs. A short time later she returns and sits on the bed. "False alarm."
"False alarm?"
"Just, um, gas." She blushes slightly. "Better safe than sorry, though."
She looks at Arthur, who looks as though he is trying not to laugh.
"What?" she says.
"There were a few, ah, 'false alarms' while you were sleeping, too," he tries to say without laughing.
"Oh, no," she blushes further and hides her face with her hands.
Arthur starts laughing in earnest now. "I thought it was cute, actually."
She looks up at him, and now she is trying not to laugh. "Cute?"
"Well, most of them were…"
Now she does laugh, in spite of herself. "Ow… Stop."
He scoots over close to her and takes her in his arms, kissing her cheek. "You know what this means, right?"
"I'm afraid to guess."
"All bets are off. Farting is now on the table."
She laughs again. "Damn it. Stop it," she groans.
"Sorry."
"So let me get this straight: Vomit doesn't bother you, poo grosses you out, but farting is funny?"
"Yes."
She stares at him.
"What?" he asks.
"Surely you don't expect to be exempted from having to change diapers one day."
"Ah. Um. Hadn't really thought of that…"
She weakly shoves him, exasperated.
He looks at her and smiles warmly, suddenly thinking of a future Guinevere, adorable with a large pregnant belly. Someday.
"Would you like a change of scenery?" he asks, deciding his best bet is to change the subject.
"That depends on what you have in mind."
"Can I draw you a bath?"
"Ooo. That sounds lovely."
"Wait here." He kisses the top of her head and strides to the bathroom.
Arthur turns on the taps, adjusting the temperature to one that he hopes is acceptable. She likes it pretty hot, he remembers.
Opening the bathroom cupboard, he surveys the selection of bubble baths, shower gels, bath salts, and lotions. He briefly frowns at them, then reaches for a bottle, knocking over three others in the process. As he grunts in irritation, he finds what he's looking for. Lavender bubble bath. Of course it's in the back. He retrieves the bottle from the shelf, rights the ones he's toppled, and squeezes some into the water.
I have no idea how much to put in, he thinks with a shrug.
As the tub fills, he goes back to retrieve Gwen, who has twisted her hair up. Taking her by the hand, he leads her into the bathroom, helps her undress down to her knickers.
"You might want to go now," she says. "I'll be fine."
His brows knit for a moment, then he remembers: Women things. Yep, I'm out of here.
He waits outside the door and hears her turn the water off and step into the tub.
"Did I get the temperature right?" he asks.
"Yes. You can come in if you want."
He does, and sits on the closed lid of the toilet.
"I didn't know how much bubble bath to put in," he admits.
"You did fine. Lavender was a good choice," her eyes are closed. "This feels excellent."
"Can I bring you anything?" he asks. Then, carefully, "Your Gatorade, maybe?"
She smiles. "Yes, thank you."