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“Come on Princess, take the hoodie off.” Gwaine sat opposite a hoodie and sunglasses clad Arthur who was currently considering why he had come in the first place. Merlin looked a mix of amused and sympathetic between them.
“Gwaine.” Merlin tried unsuccessfully, the suppressed grin on his features not helping his cause.
“What? We’re in a pub in the middle of nowhere and not only does nobody give a feck who the bloody Prince of Wales is, but everyone’s watching the game!” Gwaine gestured, drink in hand, to the area around them. True enough, the few men in the pub where too preoccupied with Newcastle and Arsenal.
“He does have a point…” Merlin couldn’t see past the dark lenses of Arthur’s sunglasses, but he would bet his entire salary that he was glaring. Arthur remained frozen in place for a moment, his features devoid of any emotion. His lips just curled in the way it did whenever he was part annoyed before he threw the, most-likely, very expensive sunglasses on the table.
“There. Satisfied?” “Very. Pretty baby blues.” Gwaine winked, grinning behind his drink. It had been the very same run down pub that Gwaine had first met them in. A few drunken brawls later and they had become a fixture in his life, even with Arthur being the Prince and Merlin being his personal assistant. His opinion on the royal family, every royal family, wasn’t a great one. He still rolled his eyes whenever anyone made a fuss of them (because really what made those old, rich blokes magically better and worth all that attention), but although he would never admit it, Arthur was different. Lately though, the princess looked like he was always on the edge and Gwaine, of course, was prepared to give him a hard time. He was going to ask Merlin about it after the princess and Leon, his bodyguard, had left, but curiosity was getting the best of him. “Alright, you’ve been more… uptight than usual. What’s wrong now?” For a moment Gwaine was sure he had been ignored but after a while of fidgeting with his hair, Arthur sighed, resigned to tell his friend.
“The Grand Duke of Luxembourg is making a diplomatic visit.” Gwaine only raised a brow, giving the man a questioning look.
“Is this Grand bloke a grand arse or am I missing something here?” Merlin gave him a look as to say wait for it. Arthur looked pained, extremely annoyed, but actually pained. It was a look usually reserved for his kingly father.
“No. From what I remember he’s a very nice man. He and my father are great friends.”
“Alright…”
“He has a… daughter.”
“Oh. Oh. Princess, have you been holding diplomatic meetings in your bedroom?”
“What? No! Of course not! I’ve never even met her!” Arthur’s shocked, shrill voice was enough to make him Gwaine grin again.
“Then what’s the problem?”
“His father’s trying to set them up!” Merlin spoke up, having grown impatient.
“Is she… attractive?”
“Yes. No. I don’t know! I told you I’ve never met her! That’s not even the point! My father doesn’t just mean for me to court her, he keeps making these comments, hinting.” Arthur took a long drag of his drink before continuing, as if it would make it easier. “He keeps making all these comments about her and marriage and ‘it’s about time.” By that point the front of Arthur’s hair was sticking out in all directions.
“So then tell the old man to sod off. He can’t force you to marry anyone.”
“Thank you for your expert advice, Gwaine. I don’t know what I’d do without you.” With that the Prince rose from his seat, throwing a few bills on the table next to his discarded sunglasses. “I’ve got some things pending, I have to go.”
“See you on Friday?” Gwaine asked, a bit taken back by Arthur’s abruptness.
“No. The Grand Duke arrives tomorrow. I am to be there for the duration of his visit and show his daughter around. I’ll give you a call after… Merlin I expect to see you early tomorrow morning. If you’re even a second late I will make you work the stables.”
Gwaine waited for him to leave before speaking again. He didn’t like how his friend looked. He was usually stressed, but this was another level.
“He would do anything to please his father.” Merlin spoke softly; the grin that had played on his features vanished.
“I know. It’s more than the old man deserves.” Merlin didn’t argue. It wasn’t long before Gwaine was left to his own devices. Merlin never stayed long, especially if he had to work early. Gwaine couldn’t help the guilt collecting in his mind. He was the first to help Arthur get his mind off things and relax, and today he done just the opposite. He didn’t stay to chat up the pretty brunette waitress this time. Instead he went home after the game ended to plan a way of getting Arthur to let loose more often. The poor sap needed it.
It was days before Gwaine came in contact with Arthur again or even Merlin, who was always willing to listen to his tales. He had even considered flipping the telly on or googling what was going on with them, but he would never have heard the end of that. Merlin had phoned him, finally, early Wednesday morning. Had it been anyone else, Gwaine might have given them an earful. Had it been anyone else, he wouldn’t have been standing in the middle of a farmer’s market, freezing his bits off at such ungodly hour. He shifted from one leg to another, doing his best to keep warm. He didn’t fancy losing a limb. The warm drink in his hand was doing wonders for his fingers. A least he would keep those. Half an hour past and there was still no sign of Merlin and his wonderfully gigantic ears. Unable to brace the cold any longer, he made his way to the nearest shop, desperate for warmth. He had one foot through the door when what could only be described as a complete uproar made him turn around. By the looks of it, some blonde woman had knocked over an apple stand. He could see her mouth moving rapidly, probably spewing out apologies, and the owner of the stand looking down in dismay. Gwaine watched, amusement in his features, as she quickly knelt down to pick the apples off the ground. As she did, she bumped into one of the poles of the large tent shielding the fruit from the condensing fog. He could see it happening before it did, inwardly wincing for the poor woman. It seemed like the domino effect in the old cartoons where one talking animal would trip over on the pavement and cause a whole building to collapse, but instead of a building, stand after stand started falling over, all kinds of fruits, vegetables, flowers, smashing on to the ground while the fallen tent flopped about over them. Gwaine stared at the complete and utter mess slack jawed. He didn’t know whether to run over and help or feel admiration for the sole person who had done it all.
One look at the blonde’s face was all it took for him to jog across the street. She was walking backwards now, and he could hear the desperate apologies coming from her mouth as the stand owners tried to raise the fallen tent. Gwaine pulled her to the side just as she was about step on an upside down fruit crate. With her luck she would have fallen over and broken her neck. Startled, she turned to him, green eyes wide. For an instant he only stared at her. How could such big eyes cause such a big mess? He retracted his hand around her waist quickly, putting them up in immediately. He smiled his usual easy smile.
“You were about to fall and I couldn’t stand to see anything else happen to you.” Confused as she was, she paid him little attention as she turned back to the owner of the first stand.
“I am so sorry! I will pay for everything. Here let me help!”
“No! It’s fine miss. Please. Just leave it.” Gwaine flinched as she bit her lip, eyes cast down. She looked like a kicked puppy. Hell, this was worse than a kicked puppy.
“She’s just trying to help mate.” Gwaine spoke, not appreciating the man’s tone.
“Yeah, well she’s helped enough, mate.” The man snapped back before storming off. The blonde tried to smile at him, the same expression was still in her eyes. Those big, green, bambi eyes.
“What a wanker eh?”
“A proper wanker.” She mumbled, offering him a small smile despite it all. Gwaine grinned at that. Her smile was short-lived, however, as the roar of the other stand owners and workers neared them. And here he thought these days were behind him.
“We should probably get out of here. Just a thought.” He glanced at her as she brought her thumb to her mouth, biting down on the nail. She looked tentatively at him, then to the group of angry people nearing them, and down the road. “Now would be a good time!” He could see panic starting to hit her as she looked down the road and to the people again. Without a second thought, he grabbed a hold of her arm, running like he hadn’t in a very, very long time.
He would be lying if said he didn’t miss it, but he had other thoughts on his mind. Well, mainly one blonde one. Gwaine kept glancing at her through the corner of his eye, his concern growing. She had run when he told her, seemingly not bothered by a strange man grabbing her and running off with her. Now, however, she kept looking over her shoulder and occasionally tripping over her own feet. Definitely shouldn’t let her go. They ran, ran until they were long gone from the market, and ran until they couldn’t hear the shouts behind them.
“They probably forgot about the whole thing by now. Here, let’s get you something to drink.” Gwaine opened the door of some bakery they had stumbled upon for her, almost placing a hand on her back as he walked in behind her. He was never one to touch anyone without their approval, especially if he didn’t know the person, but after what he had seen, she might not have gotten in without breaking anything, or herself. “Name’s Gwaine by the way. I forgot to mention that.” He said as soon as they sat at the table nearest to the window, still attempting to catch his breath.
“Gwaine.” She repeated, breathing it more to herself than to him. She wiped a stray hair off of her red forehead.
“It sounds nice coming from you.” To his amusement, she snorted loudly at his words. “It’s only fair if you tell me yours. After all, I did just save you from an angry mob.”
“Angry mob.” She repeated as if she couldn’t quite believe what had happened. “Oh right, my name! I’m Elena.” She said, smiling now, as she unzipped her coat.
“Elena?” He asked, wanting to be sure, wiping at his forehead with a napkin. Well, he was certainly warm now.
“It sounds nice coming from you.” She repeated, grinning broadly and proudly. He couldn’t help but laugh, finding himself even more charmed.
“And what will you have?” The waitress’ voice drew his attention from Elena.
“I’ll have that fairy cake and hot chocolate with extra whipped cream.” Elena ordered cheerfully, incident seemingly behind her.
“I’ll have the same.” He decided; too busy thinking of the woman in front of him. She was something alright...
Somehow two hours had come and gone since he watched her stick her finger in the whipped cream and devour the fairy cake. Gwaine had watched intently as her mouth moved, talking aimlessly and excitedly, he even picked up on the slight accent that he couldn’t quite place. Apparently she was on a holiday with her father and it wasn’t the first time she had caused such a big commotion. Gwaine never laughed as hard as when she told him how she had accidentally cut the electricity to her whole street. To his delight, she snorted when she laughed and talked with a mouthful of food without ever trying to conceal it. She had even leaned over the table to punch him at one point after he reminded her that Manchester City had beaten Manchester United. They had been entirely too amiable than what strangers who had met merely two hours ago warranted. It was his mobile ringing that brought them both out of their odd, cozy, little bubble.
“Gwaine, I am so sorry. Prince Prat made me rearrange his whole schedule after picking up all his bloody suits.” Merlin’s tired voice rang through the small speakers.
“No, it’s fine, really. Look Merlin, I call you back in bit, yeah?”
“What? Umm OK… Is everything alright? You’re not in trouble, are you?”
“It’s fine, I promise. More than fine. Great actually… I’m just kind of busy. I’ll take you out for a drink later and you can tell me all about what the princess did to you.” He sat back into his chair, keeping his voice low as he watched Elena fishing her own mobile out of her pocket, smearing frosting on herself in the process.
“As long as you’re alright… Merlin!” Gwaine had to surpass his laughter as he heard Arthur’s booming voice. “Got to go, bye!” As soon as he hung up, shaking his head fondly at his friends, Elena bolted up from their table, frantically gathering her belongings. She hadn’t noticed the chair she had knocked down.
“I-I am so sorry, but wow! It’s been two hours. Two! I had no idea. Oh I’m in trouble… Thanks for this. I’ve got your number. Salut!” It had all come of her mouth in a rush of jumbled words. She threw some money on the table, in a style that reminded Gwaine of Arthur, and only had one arm through her coat when she ran out of the shop, nearly tripping on the doorstep. She had left so suddenly that Gwaine was left staring at the door. He leaned back against the chair again, staring mindlessly at the table. It was definitely more than fine.
[Text:] Thanks for saving me from the angry mob :)
[Text:] Thanks for the hot chocolate. Can I pay you back for it? ;)
[Text:] Alright ;)
[Text:] Can you buy me chips? I really want chips
It would never have occurred to Gwaine that a woman in such fine clothing could down two plates of greasy fish and chips in one sitting without so much as a fork or a napkin.
“I’m in need of the greasiest, unhealthiest chips you’ve ever had.” Elena had told him as a greeting when she first appeared in their designated meeting area two hours after their chosen time. He couldn’t find it in him to be cross at her, or even the least bit annoyed, when she looked so genuinely excited to see him. The fact that her stomach was making all kinds of loud noises and that she looked so out of breath certainly helped.
“Did you walk? I could have driven you.” He smiled as she hopped along next to him. She waved him off with a bright grin.
“I took the tube!” She stated proudly, as if it were a great accomplishment, and by the way she was dressed and her posh accent it wasn’t much of a stretch. The first and last time Gwaine had seen her she was clad in jeans and a worn in hoodie. Today she looked like she belonged in the Princess Morgana’s social circle, or someone who had just walked straight off a Burberry runway. Not that Gwaine knew much about that stuff, but he had heard Morgana scream bloody murder at Arthur when he knocked a pint on her new coat.
“The tube doesn’t take two hours, love.” He said lightly, taking her hand and kissing the back of it in a grand gesture. The two women passing them on the pavement turned to look at them, giggling.
“Two hours?” Elena’s eyes widened at the notion, seemingly clueless as to how much time she had taken. It had been quite the adventure for her. She eyed him curiously as he took her hand, snorting loudly as his actions. It caused more people to look their way, but neither seemed to mind. Elena punched his shoulder in response, amusement playing in her green eyes.
“I believe you said the greasiest, unhealthiest chips around?” Gwaine was reminded by the loud grumble coming from Elena’s stomach. He chuckled, offering his arm to her. “You can’t back out and don’t go off blaming me when you can’t get out of the loo.” She hooked her arm around his with a smile.
“I promise I will hold you responsible for everything. Which way?”
“Oi. You play dirty. Can’t say I don’t like that. That way.” He pointed towards the food truck across the street. She had asked for it. Elena didn’t give him so much as a warning as she marched towards it, dragging him along with her. He had to sit her down after arguing over who was paying so he could give the man his money. He was paying, none of that Dutch, Switzerland stuff.
There was no bothering with cutlery with this woman. She hadn’t even accepted the fork she had been given. It had been a nice banter between as they ordered and as their food was being made, but as soon as they were given their tray of food, Elena’s voice had ceased. She had taken the greasy chips into her mouth four at a time, devouring the first plate before she noticed the lemon and vinegar. Gwaine had been too amazed to eat at first, but he had never been one to ignore a plate of food in front of him. The silence hadn’t bothered him, the blonde across him was simply too amusing. Every once in a while she would catch him staring and smile at him with cheeks filled with food. He had nearly choked on his fish the first time she did that. When she looked disappointed after finishing her first plate, he didn’t hesitate to order, or even ask her if she wanted a second plate.
Elena had denied the napkins Gwaine had offered her, opting instead to wipe her hands on her costly coat. She struggled to completely remove the grease around her mouth, wiping at her face with the back of her hand several times before she gave up. He had watched her with suppressed laughter, sliding out of his seat, and wiping her mouth with the napkin in his hand. She gave him the same bright smile she always did, though the red on her cheeks was new.
“I don’t understand how you’re all clean! Did you even eat? You look like you just showered!” She complained, gesturing to his hands and face.”
“That’s because I used napkins.”
“Great invention, I hear.”
“They’re not bad, though I much prefer watching you struggle.” Elena snorted at his words again, shoving him this time.
“You’re horrible!”
“I only speak the truth.” He winked at her, sliding in beside her. She didn’t seem to mind the lack of space between them. Instead, she went on a ramble of what was more horrible, Gwaine or the napkins. He never thought he’d enjoy hearing such a comparison, but Elena’s vivacious speech , the funny faces she made that other could perceive as odd, the elaborate hand gestures, the nonstop touching entranced him. She had no boundaries as to space and he loved it.
“Gwaine? Oi!” He heard her say before she poked the side of his head. “Do you?”
“Do I what?”
“Do you wear ties everywhere?”
“No, I don’t wear them anywhere.” How she arrived at that question was beyond him.
“At all?” Elena asked, acutely shocked by his response.
“Well, I wore one to my cousin’s wedding. Does that count? Is that good?”
“How long did it take you to make it disappear?”
“… A friend took it off right after the ceremony.”
“A friend or a person who slid down your pole?”
“I’ve no idea what you’re talking about.” Gwaine attempted to dodge the question, but by the quirk of her eyebrow he figured it had been in vain. “Why the tie question?” In return Elena looked at him as if he was daft for asking.
“Ties are tied.” She responded as if it were the most obvious answer.
“Of course.” She seemed to sense his confusion, for she erupted into snort filled laughter.
Somehow day turned to night around them, and the bloke who had taken their order was telling them to kindly bugger off. It hadn’t been Gwaine’s intention to spend all afternoon sitting on a bench, but it couldn’t have gone better. They had walked to the nearest tube station, their chatter and laughter not once interrupted. It didn’t go unnoticed to Gwaine how easy it was to talk and laugh with Elena having just met her. They talked, joked, and teased as if it had been their hundredth meeting instead of only their second. As if they had been friends for ages instead of two people who really didn’t know much about each other besides the fact that they enjoyed the other’s company too much to care. Her openness, frankness was refreshing; her laugh was entirely new. There was no denying he was drawn to her.
For a moment they lingered at the station; Elena almost looked sad to see the day end, and she was. Gwaine had offered to go with her, wherever it was she was going. It would have been an entirely different adventure to let her figure out where she was. She looked like the type to deny she was lost, but unfortunately she denied him sternly. Something about a strict, jealous father. Gwaine had too much unwanted experience with strict, jealous fathers to insist. He had taken her hand in the same grand gesture as when he first saw her that day, and bent down to kiss it. “My lady.” He said as the tube neared, smiling at her flushed features and smile.
“I’ll see you around, Gwaine.”
Two weeks had passed before he heard from Elena again. He had invited her to the pub he, Merlin, and Arthur frequented with every intention to introduce her to his other friends. (“We don’t want to intrude on your date.” It’s not a date.” “Oh? Then you wouldn’t mind if Arthur starts snogging her?” “…”). The wankers had cancelled on him at last minute, something about the Grand Duke and his daughter. Gwaine had told Arthur to tell them where to shove it after seeing the same stressed out look on his features. The king was apparently intent on Arthur marrying the princess of Luxembourg. As Gwaine pushed open the door with a loud creak and saw Elena intently watching the game on the telly, all thoughts of Arthur and his princess escaped him. So maybe his interests weren’t purely amicable.
She was an avid football fan. He had learned as much the first time he sat down with her, after the angry mob, but he hadn’t expected this. Elena was fully invested in it, spewing curses and encouragements at the telly as if they could hear her, elbowing him with mutters of what defense tactic they should have used, and fawning over Michael Carrick. After one too many overly-fond comments about Carrick, Gwaine ordered drinks for both of them, drawing her attention away from the footie match. She hadn’t even noticed he was there. With a happy cry of “Gwaine!” she had grasped his hand on the counter and given it a tight squeeze. She had let go with slight embarrassment, as if she hadn’t been conscious of what she had done.
“Sorry. I keep getting told not to touch people all the time. I keep forgetting and mucking it all up.” She told him sheepishly. Gwaine couldn’t help but frown at what she said, finding it entirely frustrating that someone would dare to keep Elena’s exuberance contained.
“I don’t mind, not one bit.” And he didn’t.
She had sworn and pledged Manchester’s victory over Hull City, going back and forth with earnest eagerness between the match and Gwaine. The woman was loyal to her team and he was incredibly relieved she was a football nut than a reality show one or any other type of nut. During halftime her eyes kept glancing towards the pretty brunette bartender behind the counter, noticing the woman’s glaringly obvious looks and comments. For the first time, Gwaine had felt uncomfortable. He had never gone beyond casual flirting with the woman, but anyone could have thought different by the way she was acting. Elena remained uncharacteristically quiet after the bartender made a show of giving Gwaine his drink, bending over the counter, and brushing her hand past his forearm. Gwaine, and Elena, had to be blind to notice what she was doing. For years he had been attending the pub and never once had the woman displayed such interest in him. It was a bit unnerving, especially with Elena’s newfound silence. On one hand, he hated to make her uncomfortable, on the other, it served as a positive indicator of her interest in him.
“You’re a slapper aren’t you?” She finally spoke after a moment of picking at the label of her drink.
“I-“
“Oh you definitely are. With those chat up lines you have to be.” Elena interrupted him, teasingly bumping his shoulder with hers.
“I’ve no idea what you’re talking about, but I like to think it’s my smile that works.”
“Really? What about those?” She hovered her hands over her chest, jutting her chin towards the bartender, to indicate her rather large bosom. At that tried not to laugh, instead wearing a mask of perfect innocence.
“What? I didn’t even notice.”
“Oh you liar! Even I saw everything!”
“Elena.” Gwaine started, feigning shock. “Were you checking her out? Hm. That explains a lot.”
“Even Hull City saw all her bits and explains what, exactly?”
“This is the third time I’ve seen you and yet, not even one hug. A bloke needs some encouragement.”
“Like you need any encouragement.”
“Oi.” She took his drink before he could say anything else.
Unlike their previous encounters, it had been entirely too short. Elena had left in a hurry after an hour, claiming her father had made previous, important plans. Gwaine had watched her walk through the door before she came back, running up to him. He was just about to ask her what she had forgotten when Elena threw her arms around his neck tightly for a belated hug. He chuckled against her hair, gladly returning the hug. Encouragement was definitely nice.
It had been a sunny afternoon the day Gwaine had taken Elena to the park. It had been the perfect day for a nice walk to show her around since she was still a tourist after all. Elena seemed to have different plans. When she had gotten out of the taxi she had chased after her football as it rolled down the hill. Gwaine ended up catching the ball and Elena before they tumbled down.
She was a lot better at playing than what he had expected despite her clumsiness. He had been perfectly fine with just acting as a defence and watch her struggle, but she had caught on quickly. Elena had kicked him as if he were the football.
“Stop being a slapper and do this right!” Her words would have been more encouraging if she hadn’t fallen after getting her foot stuck in a molehill. A seemingly sprained ankle put an end to their match. Gwaine had carried her to the nearest bench, insisting on taking her to the hospital. Elena had waved him off with determination, claiming she had had much worse in the past. He didn’t question it after she shooed him off to get ice cream for her ankle. Gwaine really should have known better than getting one ice cream to ice her ankle. He thought as much as he made his second trip to the ice cream shop. Elena had decided against icing her foot with it and ate it, asking him to retrieve another for her ankle. He was finding it impossible to say no to her. They had spent the entirety of the evening with her foot resting on his leg, eating ice cream, and exchanging their list of numerous injuries. Gwaine never thought someone could break their wrist by trying to tie their shoe.
It had been Gwaine who had ended their meeting this time. As much as he didn’t want to, it had been ages since he was Merlin and Arthur. Elena tried to limp to the cab, stubborn as she was, but he had managed to at least assist her to it.
“I can walk.” She had said a number times.
“You can limp. It’s not exactly the same thing.”
“It’s the basically the same thing!”
“Whatever you say, your highness.” He had said in jest, half carrying and half pulling her away from the bench.
“Wha-what did you call me?” She looked at Gwaine with a pointed look.
“El, you alright? You’re looking a bit pale. I should get you to the hospital. You can’t be-.”
“No!” She interrupted as they reached a cab. “Gwaine, really. I’m fine. Just, please, only call me Elena or El from now on. Please.” Confused and worried as he was, he told her what she wanted to hear. The cab driver had rushed their goodbye soon after, leaving him thinking what the hell he said or done. The again, maybe her ankle had been hurting more than he thought and he was an absolute idiot for not taking proper care of her.
Gwaine’s month full of Elena had taken break, and while Gwaine was happy to spend time with his other friends, he did miss her and her quirkiness. He knew she had only been in the country for a holiday, but he had never asked for how long or expected to have gotten so attached to her. Elena had yet to leave, but it was something that kept creeping over his mind like an unwanted shadow when he least expected.
He had been in the midst of enjoying a much needed lazy night when he received a call from Elena. Before the quip left his mouth, he was bombarded with apologies and explanations that must have made sense to her ears. He was left scrambling for his clothes after she had asked him if he “perhaps, maybe would want to take a walk”. He had sent her his address.
Gwaine was grateful he had opted for a coat. The wind was crisp and cold, making the night even less inviting. Elena didn’t seem to mind it from what he saw. She stood underneath the street light, her hair made more golden by the illumination. He would have gone naked to the North Pole, to drink with all of Santa’s elves, to see her brighten and grin at him like she did. Elena had nearly choked him with her enthusiastic hug, but he wouldn’t have had it any other way. Gwaine hadn’t realized just how much he had missed her.
They walked around his known streets aimlessly, talking and joking of the meaningless and important alike. They would have stayed longer if Elena hadn’t needed to run back to his place to use the toilet. She had come out of the loo drying her hands on her trousers and surveying his flat.
“You like it?” Gwaine asked, gesturing to the sitting room.
“It’s kind of small.” She replied with her nose scrunched up. “But I love it.” She finished with a smile. “I should go.” Elena said in a low voice, making no move to do so. He took it upon himself to lessen the distance between them, pulling her into a hug that lasted longer than it needed to.
“You don’t have to.” He matched her tone, finally going to close the gap between their lips. Elena had had a similar idea, for when he leaned in to kiss her; she did the same. Their noses bumped together instead. She snorted at the occurrence, launching them both into unceremonious laughter. “You could stay.” Gwaine said as soon as he could manage. She looked thoughtful for a moment, considering it.
“I’m sorry. I can’t. I have-“
“Things pending, I know.” With that he kissed the tip of her nose, smiling once he heard her laugh. “Go on, it’s late. Can’t have anything happening to you.”
“Then salut.” She lingered at the door, looking at him strangely before planting a kiss on his lips. Just as she did everything else, it was enthusiastic and messy. He didn’t want her to leave.
The next time he saw Elena she was at his door, in a jumper and jeans attire and her blonde mane in a messy ponytail. The difference, he noticed, she was wearing makeup. Just as beautiful. She was smiling when he first opened the door, her eyes widening and conspicuously traveling down his very shirtless body.
“Oi, you’re fit.” He had heard her mutter. Catching herself, her startled eyes had snapped back up to his. He didn’t even attempt to hide his smug smile and warm chuckle. Without another word she walked in right past him, leaving him grinning like a dolt in the doorway.
“I didn’t order anything.” He quipped as she plopped down on his couch as if it were her own flat. He quite enjoyed that too. Elena only rolled her eyes at him as a response, patting the space beside her. Gwaine didn’t argue, grabbing two beers from the fridge before sitting next to her.
By the second film Elena was leaning on the arm of the couch, legs propped up on Gwaine’s. The nearly empty bag of popcorn had been placed on her knees, his forearms warm against her thighs. Elena was ardently against using plates and bowls. She had been insistent on reminding him of it throughout the first hour of Die Hard.
“If you don’t use them, you don’t have to wash them.”
“Eat your popcorn.” And then she had nearly choked on one.
“Die Hard is” Elena started, a cough escaping her before she could finish. She sat up, taking a sip of her drink before setting it on the floor and wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. “Die Hard, it’s the best Christmas film.”
“I can’t deny its quality, but the best Christmas film? Really, El?”
“Yes, really.” She added with a heel kick to his thigh.
“Oi.” He directed his handful of popcorn at her head, laughing when he felt her kick him again.
“Tosser.” She muttered, shaking some popcorn off of her neck. Gwaine didn’t bother telling her about the kernels stuck in her hair.
“What’s your favorite then?”
“I’m a traditional man-“ He poked Elena’s knee after she snorted at that.
“As I was saying, I’m a classic man-“
“I thought you were a traditional man?”
“I’m both. Now hush.” That earned him another snort-filled laugh. “I’m a classic, traditional man, you can’t go wrong with It’s a Wonderful Life.” She groaned. “What?”
“It’s so sad and depressing!”
“But then it gets all warm and fuzzy!”
“But remember all you have to go through to get there!”
“Die Hard is just murder!” This time it was Elena that threw her popcorn at him, laughing when Gwaine actually caught one on his mouth.
“I don’t see anything wrong that!” She said, pointing a buttery finger towards him.
“Neither do I.”
“Then what are you going on about?”
“Oh y’know as a child I loved waking up to find presents under the tree and murder on the telly.”
“Shut it, you.”Elena shoved him with a smile, not resigned to admit he could possibly be right. Gwaine let his head fall back, laughter over taking him. He knew he had one this argument; it was her strange way of saying it. She simply leaned back with the bag of popcorn in her hands, the smile on her features not wavering until she realized the bag was empty. She handed it to him lazily.
“Go get more.”
“Demanding shrew.”
“Please?”
“I would, but this blonde’s got her legs all over me. Can’t get up.”
“That lovely blonde must be very comfortable then.”
“I still have to throw this away.” He teased, though Gwaine wouldn’t move for anything in the world.
“Here.” She took the bag, crushing it into a ball before throwing it behind the couch. She settled in her spot, throwing him a smile.
“I could have done that.”
“Yeah, you could have. I think the butter went to your brain. You’re getting a bit daft, Gwaine.” She shrugged, teasingly, the challenging look in her eye. As much as he loved to hear her argue, Gwaine only smiled softly at her, his eyes on hers.
“Demanding shrew.” He said fondly, slipping from under her. He was kneeling over Elena, tickling her sides until she squirmed beneath him, thrashing, laughing, snorting, cursing. He found he couldn’t stop laughing either.
“Gwaine!” She yelled in between fits of laughter. “Stopstopstopstop! Can’t –Can’t breathe!” Chuckling, he finally ceased his attack, laughing with her as they both tried to catch their breath. Her grin was wide and transfixing. Their laughter died down, but neither made any effort to move from their compromising position. Her hands remained on his bare shoulders, his hands still on her sides, their breathing hitched and ragged. His head dipped, lips brushed against hers, gently pressed against her warm, soft lips. It was sweet, tender, nothing neither would have expected from the other. It didn’t last nearly long enough. It wasn’t long before he felt Elena laughing against him. He smiled into the crook of her neck, enjoying her laughter almost as much as he enjoyed kissing her.
“You know this isn’t very encouraging.” He murmured against her skin, grinning when she laughed even harder.
“Oh sorry!” She said, much more loudly than their closeness necessitated. Her hand snaking its way into his hair, her other mindlessly toying with his necklace. “It’s just-You taste like popcorn!”
“That makes two.” He said in a low tone, finding everything about her mesmerizing and endlessly amusing. He didn’t move to kiss her again, instead watching her eyes flutter from him to his necklace, to his lips. Their silence was comforting, anticipating. Why would he ruin such a moment with some stupid quip? Elena’s fingers found themselves on his necklace, sliding it up, down, up, down, tugging slightly to keep him in place. She pulled on it, pulled him closer, her eyes staring into his, her mouth slightly parted as she nodded ever so slightly- their lips finally meeting again. It was the opposite of the first, harsher, hungrier, and just as perfect. Gwaine never loved the taste of popcorn more in his entire life…
The first time he had woken up, the sun was just rising, the window in his bedroom covered in a light layer of ice. It was freezing. At some point during the night Elena had slipped away from him and cocooned herself in all the blankets. He could just make out her hair sticking out of the pile. It was too cold for this and his options were limited. Get up, walk around on the ice cold floor, and put some clothes on or wrestle the blankets, and Elena, out of her cocoon. She had meekly shoved him away at first, but was soon nestled in his arms with a sleepy smile on her lips.
The second time he had woken up, it had been entirely too bright. The telly in his room, and the loon screaming at it, had been entirely too loud. He struggled to keep his eyes open. Elena, meanwhile, was sitting against the headboard, eyes narrowed and glued to the television screen. “Goal from Shakthar!” The announcer was saying just as she chucked the remote to the foot of the bed.
“I actually need that.” Gwaine spoke quietly, his eyes adjusting to the light. She jumped slightly at his voice, turning to him at an instant. Smiling sheepishly, she pointed to the telly.
“There was a game. Bastards tied!” “Shh, less yelling, more sleeping.” He mumbled, pulling her close until she was nestled into his side, Elena’s head on his chest. She only laughed, drawing invisible circles on his skin, but she was too restless to go back to sleep. The game had woke her up, but she didn’t move, finding Gwaine’s arms much too warm and comfortable. “Heh. Your nipples look like melted chocolate chips.” In that moment, Gwaine was sure his neighbors could hear her snorting laughter more than anything they heard the night prior.
“That has to be the strangest thing you’ve ever said. So much for dirty talk.”
“Now I can’t un-see it!” With that Elena moved onto him, placing a hand between her chin and his chest. “It’s OK though. I do like chocolate.”
“Lucky me, but who doesn’t?”
“Odd, odd, poor, unfortunate people.” Before he could say anything else, she leaned forward, brushing her lips against his. “Feed me.” She whispered after pulling back ever so slightly.
“You really are very demanding, you know that?”
Gwaine had truly woken up in the kitchen, after an egg came flying at his head. Needless to say, Elena was banned from cooking, no matter how adorable she looked laughing and covered in flour. Her banishment didn’t last long. Not when she kept pressing up behind him, and the stove, in a sweet embrace, laughing at something Miranda Hart had said. It had been a great morning, one that he hadn’t had in a long time. Leave it to Arthur to ruin it. Gwaine had told him countless times that it was more than fine for him and Merlin to just walk into his place. He never minded. He wanted them to feel comfortable and sometimes he was in the shower or getting dressed. Gwaine had given them a key for a reason, yet Arthur always knocked. Always that is, until that day. He breezed in, looking happier and much more relaxed than he had since the Grand Duke of somewhere or another had arrived.
“Save everything for tomorrow. We’re going—Elena?” Arthur nearly dropped the phone in his hand. Any other time, Gwaine would have laughed at the look on his face. Arthur’s eyes were wide and shocked, his mouth open in a way that looked like he was either choking on something or he couldn’t say anything. But then Elena dropped her arms, pulling away from Gwaine instantly.
“Arthur!”She cried out after doing a double take, brows furrowing deeply at the other man’s presence. She was doing everything she could not to stick a finger between her teeth, hell, it seemed as if she could barely breath. Gwaine’s eyes looked to both of them, his confusion almost as heavy as the tension in the air. The worst of thoughts assaulted him in the moment. How did they even know each other? Arthur wasn’t seeing anyone, Elena was- She wasn’t his but there was no way she could be Arthur’s. Poor Merlin had chosen to walk through the door in that moment, his cheerful grin faltering as soon as he noticed everyone’s expression.
“What’s going on?” He began to ask before his eyes settled on Elena. “Your highness!” He breathed, averting his eyes to floor in an awkward bow. Your highness. Your highness. Merlin had called Elena, his Elena, her highness. Gwaine couldn’t move, he couldn’t breathe. Oh no. There was no way this was happening. She was Elena, uncoordinated, socially inept, blunt, snorting, funny, sweet, Die Hard watching, footie loving Elena. She couldn’t possibly be royalty. They were confusing her for this princess. That had to be it, but one look at Elena’s face and he knew.
“I- I guess you’ve already met Elena, princess of Luxembourg.” Arthur stated, the slightest hint of annoyance laced into his tone. Princess. Princess. Gwaine breathed deeply, running a hand through his hair. He turned his back to all of them, hands resting on either side of the counter.
“I had no idea.” It was quiet after he spoke, an insufferable, suffocating silence that hung heavy over all of them. Whether it was that no one knew what to say or no one could say anything, he didn’t know. It was Elena’s voice that spoke first, quiet and shaky for once.
“I should go.” She said in a tone barely above a whisper, and she did.
“You’re unbelievable.” Arthur had said before trailing after her. Gwaine waited until they were both out of earshot before finally speaking to Merlin.
“Her and Arthur… They’re not-.” He struggled to find the words, he didn’t want to know the answer.
“What? Oh, no. No, no, no, no. no. I mean, they get along fine, but…” Merlin trailed off. The relief Gwaine felt didn’t do anything to calm the storm in his mind. At the very least he didn’t betray his best friend. Merlin hadn’t stayed long and Arthur had called him hours later.
He hadn’t been angry in the least, but he had given him an earful anyway. Gwaine spent the afternoon staring blankly at his phone wondering if he should say anything to her or if she would call. It was around 2 A.M. that his phone went off, though he couldn’t bring himself to answer it. This was too much. It wasn’t even that she hadn’t told him, it was the fact that she was a bloody princess, royalty. Gwaine had no business being in that world, he didn’t want to either. Things could have gotten too complicated and Gwaine didn’t fancy complicated. He saw everything Arthur went through. He wanted no piece of it. He fancied things simple. Simple was good. Simple was great… but so was Elena. She kept calling him, never once leaving a voicemail or a text. Eventually she gave up.
He spent the next week, and the week after that morbidly going through his daily tasks, purposely avoiding Arthur, and doing his best not to think of Elena. He failed miserably at both. Day after day Arthur called to either know how they had even met and why she looked so down. Gwaine figured Merlin must had told him something because eventually Arthur started yelling and threatening that she didn’t deserve to get hurt or to be treated like a one night stand. Gwaine had severely underestimated how close Arthur and Elena had gotten. It didn’t make him jealous at all. Not one bit.
It had been three weeks since he last saw Elena and it hadn’t gotten any easier. He had been on his way to meet with Arthur and Merlin at their run-down, old pub when the radio had announced the Grand Duke and Princess of Luxembourg were making their last round of England. He tried not to look as miserable as he pulled out of the driveway. He was almost at the pub when he got a frantic text from Merlin telling him to meet up somewhere else, some equally run-down and old restaurant.
Gwaine always spotted the blonde hair first. What took him by surprise were the two heads of blonde hair. He stopped in his tracks, his breath catching in his throat. He should have figured. Elena was sitting in the booth next to the princess, knawing at the straw in her mouth. In front of her Merlin was busy arguing with Arthur over something. They all looked too dressed up. It was rather odd seeing Elena in a fancy trench coat with her hair straightened and her makeup impeccable. Odd in that he had missed her much more than he thought.
Her face brightened the second she saw him, but she quickly drew her eyes to Merlin, her expression changed into that of a nervous, frightened one. Taking a deep breath, Gwaine approached them with a smile, doing his best to ignore the elephant in the room. The dinner hadn’t gone as bad as he thought. No one brought anything up, but every once in a while he would risk a glance at Elena to find her doing the same. It was getting unbearable to be in the same room with her without even speaking. Merlin and Arthur’s argument over sauces was also getting unbearable, he noticed as Elena yawned.
“How long have you been put through this?” She was surprised to hear Gwaine talk directly to her, but she smiled nonetheless.
“My whole visit, but if you mean this round then they’ve been at it since they brought the chips.”
“Maybe we should leave them to their lover’s quarrel alone…”
“And stick them with the bill?” Gwaine laughed at her words, warmth spreading through him. Christ he had missed her.
“Come on.” He nudged towards the door, leading her out without a glance back. They stood outside the restaurant in silence, Elena fidgeting with the buttons of her trench coat. It was still as tense as it had been the day Arthur walked in on them. They spoke at the same time, stopping to hear the other.
“Let me.” Gwaine started, avoiding her eyes. “Look Elena, I can’t say we didn’t have a good time. I miss… it, but this can’t go anywhere. We both know that. It’s complicated. You need to be with someone that gets your lifestyle. Someone that wants to be a part of it-.”
“You don’t want to be a part of my life?”
“I didn’t say that.”
“Yes you did! You just did! If you don’t want anything to do with me then say it Gwaine. Stop beating around the bush. You know I don’t like that.” The words stung him. He struggled with his words, carefully considering what to say. He didn’t want to hurt her.
“El, you’re a… princess…”
“I’m not asking you to be duke or king or anything.” Elena snapped, not letting him continue. “I’m not asking you to marry me, Gwaine! I just want to watch films all night with you and argue over which James Bond is the best and quote Die Hard. I want to drink beer at the crap pub you took me to. I want to hear your stupid stories and even more stupid arguments. I want to punch you because you’re so bloody infuriating!” Gwaine shoved his hands into his jean pockets, looking solemnly towards her, quiet for once. She was upset. He could tell by the way her accent was more profound, how she was fidgeting with the hem of her coat with one hand and biting the nails of the other. Her hair was flying in every direction and those big, green, bambi eyes were looking at him. She was disheveled as always. A bloody mess. He could feel the corner of his lips tugging into a smile. Christ she was a mess, but she was his royal mess. She dropped the hand in her mouth, eyes narrowing at him. “Why are you smiling?” Now she was frustrated, he noted, as her full, wonderful lips pursed together. “Gwaine.” And now she was pissed off, and he was laughing. Elena looked at him, confused, for a moment, before her anger found her again. She closed the small gap between them, shoving him with both hands. She didn’t have as much force as she liked since she started to pound her fists against his chest. Gwaine could only laugh and laugh.
“El.” He breathed, finally grabbing a hold of her wrists with one hand
“Shut up!” She still sounded absolutely pisssed off as she tried to get away from his grasp.
“El.” Grinning wildly, he wrapped his arm around her waist, pulling her close. And now she was confused, and just as every expression on her features was, it was the most beautiful thing Gwaine had ever seen. “I want that too.” He said calmly before placing his lips on her full, wonderful ones. His grip on her wrists loosened and her hand traveled to the nape of his neck, pulling him closer. Her other, calloused hand intertwined with his as her lips never left his. Impossibly, she pulled back slightly, a smile gracing her lips. And now she was happy. He gave her a quick peck on the lips, just to hear her laugh. Elena laughed, her thumb grazing the back of his neck, keeping him close.
“You’re a proper wanker.” She grinned, punching him on the shoulder.
“As opposed to an improper wanker?” He questioned, turning her around and wrapping his arms around her waist. She pretended to think for a moment, hands sliding over his.
“Yeah, you’re a proper wanker.” Placing his chin on her shoulder, he rolled his eyes teasingly.
“There’s a united game next week. Are we going to the pub?”
“Mm-hmm.” Gwaine was a simple man, and nothing was simpler than being with Elena.
“Oh wait. I’ve got to dine with the prime minister of France that day. How about Thursday?” Alright, perhaps it wasn’t going to be that simple, but where was the fun in simple?
“Thursday then.”
