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Ever since her brother had run off on the night of his supposed wedding with a Brazilian sea merchant (though she was convinced he was actually a pirate) he had met on his stag night called Merlin, Morgana had found herself somewhat in the lurch. It wasn’t as if her entire life had revolved around Arthur – quite the contrary she had thought – but it just seemed now as if something was missing; and, as always the girlfriends, Gwen (the one Arthur had just been about to marry) and Elena, were insisting it was a guy problem.
She sat at a table in the bakery she worked at (conveniently owned by Elena and her current boyfriend, Leon). It was early and there were very few customers around. As usual she had an Espresso on one side and a tea on the other (for one could never have too many drinks), with a pen in her hand, and a crossword laid out on the table in front of her, a routine that would never change no matter what happened. Her glasses were slipping down her nose (she always found it a pain when she ran out of contact lenses faster than expected, it was that extra bloody night shift that had done it) and she pushed them back up again with the tip of her finger, glancing around for a moment to see what was occurring.
On the table beside her was a magazine someone had left yesterday, the cover showing the smiling face of a ‘celebrity’ she didn’t recognise. The headline (if one could call it that) was something along the lines of “Gwaine Orkney Vanishes After Heated Argument With…” blah blah blah. She couldn’t be bothered to read the rest. She didn’t know who Gwaine was, what he did, and, to be frank, she didn’t care either. She briefly felt sorry for the bloke; she wouldn’t want her whole life plastered all over the tabloids – but what could she do about it (answer: nada, so what’s the point in worrying?)?
The door to the bakery opened and Leon walked in. Morgana had known Leon for ages – he’d been Arthur’s best friend, and she’d been the one to introduce him to Elena. He gave Morgana a smile the way he always did – he was a man of few words – before he headed out to the kitchens where Elena was just preparing the day’s delights.
She sat for five more minutes, filling in the crossword clues like a well-oiled machine, occasionally sipping at her tea until finally the crossword was done and the tea was gone. Life had, for the most part, been kind to her, and she knew that. That’s why she always took a little while at the beginning of the day to spend some time alone – she had to appreciate herself otherwise no one would.
Giggling erupted into the bakery as the kitchen door swung open and Elena and Leon emerged. Elena was covered in flour (that was nothing new really, she always had some somewhere on her person) whilst Leon stood in his pristine apron with a big goofy grin on his face. Morgana smiled to herself, trying not to look like she was staring. It was clear as anything that Elena and Leon were made for each other, despite his rather odd serious nature that appeared at random moments and her crazy ideas that could drive even the most tolerable person to distraction. She was quite proud that she had managed to set them up; she had always known there was someone out there for Elena despite her constant protestations that she was too clumsy and stupid to be loved (which, of course, was totally untrue). They were always laughing, those two, no matter what happened or what calamity befell them, they laughed all the way through, for according to Elena “There is always sunlight when there’s laughter”, and Leon seemed to have adopted that theology with his whole heart.
Morgana sighed, lifting herself out of the chair and placing the apron round her middle. Making her way towards the counter, she picked up the stray plates and cups that had been left uncollected during the morning’s slow and almost unnoticeable business. Elena was the head chef of this place, followed closely by Leon, which left the front of store mainly to Morgana, unless the lunch time rush was too heavy and she couldn’t keep control by herself. From the look of things, it was going to be one of the easier days, so she settled herself into a familiar routine of taking orders, cleaning tables, delivering orders, and chatting to the customers more than she was supposed to when Elena wasn’t looking.
She worked doggedly through the lunch hour, which was always fun but quite a ride. There were always her regulars; like Olaf, who was as creepy as usual with his thorough raking of her with (thankfully only) his eyes and a blessing of all blessings was that he didn’t try and touch her today, and then there were the new customers and the tourists who seemed to think that coming in during the lunch hour of a business weekday was a good idea.
But the lunch hour crowd dispersed eventually, filtering away like the best coffees do until only the most perfect mix of a few customers who are willing to talk to you but not too much work that you begin to feel a bit like a robot. Perfect.
She was about to take her afternoon break – usually a 15 minute sit down with a coffee after lunch to recharge her batteries for the tea time crowd – when the door opened and the little bells Elena had insisted on placing above it twinkled happily. A man entered, the hood of his hoodie up, a tatty rucksack slung over his shoulder, in a pair of jeans that looked made to be shabby. Now, for all of Morgana’s fashion sense, she wasn’t one to judge people by appearances, but this guy made her feel off. Darting quickly back into the kitchen, she checked to make sure Leon was out there somewhere (he was, but he was singing along to the radio so she probably wouldn’t be able to get his attention too quickly) just as a precaution, and threw her purse and phone down on the counter so she would feel a little less vulnerable.
“How may I help you?” She asked with a smile as she left the kitchen, turning to the mysterious customer. Just because she was a little bit scared of the man didn’t mean she had to lose her manners; Uther had brought her up to be better than that (and because she knew she could be intimidating when she wanted to be, she did have some confidence).
“Just an espresso, please.” The man said in a really terrible Queens-English accent. It seemed like he didn’t want to be noticed, and yet Morgana was desperate to tell him he was just drawing attention to himself by having his hood up and that accent really needed to be worked on. Instead she just continued to smile at him as she prepared his coffee.
“Here,” She said a few minutes later, “Can I interest you in anything else? I can tell you from experience that Elena’s brownies are heavenly and they have just come out the oven, so they’ll be warm and extra gooey.”
The man paused for a moment before saying, “Alright then.” But this time, the accent had dropped and what seemed to be his normal voice came through. He had a soft Irish lilt to his voice as he spoke, deep and charming, his tone changing to be slightly more flirtations. Morgana decided not to take the hint.
“Excellent! Eat in or take away?”
“Eat in, please.”
And so she handed an apparently fellow Irishman a brownie on a flowery plate and an espresso with her biggest smile and watched as he walked away. He found himself the table furthest away from the window, and sat with his back towards the door. This was weird enough in itself. People usually came to The Cookie Tin to take some time out and watch the world go by in relative quiet. This guy, on the other hand, seemed to want the complete opposite. Something was off, and she wanted to know what it was. Elena wouldn’t approve of her snooping, she never did, but sometimes the desire to know things was too much of a pull and she just couldn’t resist.
She made herself a mug of tea and grabbed a brownie for herself too (she hadn’t been joking when she’d said she loved them), and headed towards the man’s newly acquired table. As she approached, she wandered if she should say anything. Maybe a simple “May I sit here?” or a “Everywhere else was full.” Would be sufficient (the only problem with the latter being that it actually wasn’t anywhere near full so she couldn’t get away with that one), but eventually decided that that was boring. ‘Be adventurous’ she had told herself when Arthur left, and this was the closest thing she ever got to adventure.
Plonking herself down on the chair opposite Mr Mysterious with a little less grace than she had planned, however, wasn’t quite the sort of adventure she was hoping for.
“Sorry,” she said as she made herself comfortable, “I never could resist a good mystery, and you, dear sir, have got ENIGMA tattooed across your forehead. And I’m due a break so I thought ‘what the hell’. What’s your name then?”
The man sat there with his mouth hanging open, every bit as shocked as Morgana had expected.
“Look, I’m not going to bite, I promise.” Morgana said with a softer tone, “Like I said, I just love a good mystery.”
“You don’t…er… recognise me?” the man said quietly. Morgana thought this was weird, what sort of person says that? She watched as the guy took a mouthful of his brownie, waiting for her to respond and seemingly feeling the need to find a way to distract himself. He groaned, “Before you answer that, can I just say you were absolutely right, these brownies are bloody amazing. I might have to have two.”
Morgana grinned, “I’ll let Elena know,” she paused, still giving the guy a once over, then said “Nope, not a clue. Should I know you?”
The man visibly relaxed, his shoulders dropping and his head falling back till he was looking forwards instead of down.
“You sure?”
“Yeah…”
He laughed. And laughed. And continued laughing for quite some time. After a while Morgana had had enough,
“What did I say?”
“You don’t know who I am and that is the most amazing sentence you could ever have said, I could kiss you… Morgana.” He added with a grin as he read her name badge. He glanced at his watch, “I’m sorry I better be off, but I’ll be back tomorrow for more of these brownies, and maybe then, if you still don’t know who I am, I will tell you and you might just be able to help me.” And in one swift movement he downed the rest of his coffee and brownie, then jogged out the shop and off down the road.
It was only then Morgana realised he hadn’t paid. She thought about chasing him down the road, but in her brand new red stilettos? That was not happening. If Elena noticed (unlikely) then she could take it out of Morgana’s pay check, but Morgana knew that was never going to be an option. And anyway, he had promised he would come back tomorrow, so who knew?
From then on, the day began to drag. Every customer seemed to stay forever, then another would come along and stay for even longer. Morgana made more coffees than she could count, ended up walking around in just a pair of socks she kept in her bags for moments when her shoes killed her feet too much, and (for the first time since she started working there) ended up begging Leon for some help because the tea hour had stretched her too far this time.
At the end of the day, she made it her job to close and lock the door as the last customer (a little old woman with no teeth but a big brave smile) ambled out with a fresh loaf of bread tucked under her arm. The satisfaction of being able to turn the little cardboard sign from ‘Open’ to ‘Closed’ was almost too much for her to bear, and she collapsed on the nearest chair with a defeated huff.
Conveniently, Elena and Leon chose that time to bring out the fresh batch of cookies and a cup of tea for each of them.
“You guys are angels, you know that right?” Morgana sighed contentedly as she sipped the tea, “Where would I be without you?”
“Unemployed and still moping because your brother ran off?” Elena said with a cheeky grin, then got up to answer the tapping at the door.
“If it’s a customer, tell them we’re closed and we’re not opening till July, I am completely done with all of this and I need a holiday.”
Elena merely giggled and, despite not knowing who the stranger at the door was and therefore knowing he was probably a customer, opened the door. She never could turn people away. There was a series of hushed whispers; Morgana knowing Elena was whispering in a vain attempt to keep their latest customer hidden from her and she took a gulp of tea as she could feel she probably wouldn’t get another chance to taste it whilst it was still warm.
“Morgana, it’s for you.” Elena said a few minutes later, “A man saying he met you earlier and needs desperately to ask a favour of you?”
This statement, although probably of vital importance, was followed by another tinkling of the bells above the store door and Morgana’s concentration was momentarily distracted by the entrance of Gwen. Gwen, who had seemed to be the only one not surprised when Arthur ditched her at the altar, was as always really cheerful. The man who had entered a few moments before was forced to shuffle to the side as she barged her way in, arms laden with bags full of clothes and before anyone could even think about saying hello she was speaking,
“Morgana, these are your brother’s clothes. I assume you haven’t heard from him, so I think it’s about time we donated them to charity so that I can get around with finding myself a new boyfriend without them asking me awkward questions about who the clothes belong to. Seriously, Morgana, I’m tired of having to make fake stories up about them, and yes before you ask they do have to be fake stories because otherwise I get that sympathetic look and then they leave very swiftly after that. Honestly, I tried.”
“Hello to you too, Gwen.” Leon said with a smirk, “Another day of self-realisation, I see?”
“Oh please, Leon, you’re making it sound like that’s a bad thing!”
As she settled herself down on the table, the friendly banter continued and Morgana realised she hadn’t helped the customer who had come in. She turned from the guys with a grin still on her face, getting up and heading to the man who had sat himself down on a table near the door.
“Hi,” she said to him as she approached, “Sorry about that, Gwen has quite a loud personality at times, and today is just one of those days.”
The man looked up at her, his hood falling down to reveal the man she had been talking to earlier. He stood up as he saw her, slightly jumpy but obviously trying to hide it.
“I… look…” he tried, huffing when he couldn’t quite form a sentence, “I just… you seemed lovely earlier, and you didn’t know who I was, which is always amazing,” he winked at her, trying to flirt with her yet not quite committing himself to it, “But er… this is going to sound weird – most of the stuff I say usually does you’ll get used to it… could I possibly, well what I mean is, do you have a place I could stay for a while?” he tried to smile at her, yet she could see he was terrified.
“Why don’t you have anywhere to stay?” she asked. She’d always been sceptic of people, especially of men. Surprisingly she’d never had a good experience with a guy, that didn’t mean sexual experience that meant the nicer friendlier experience. This guy just seemed off. He was in Calvin Klein jeans, a Superdry jacket and was clean shaven, yet here he was looking for a place to stay.
“Ah…” was all he replied for a moment, “About that,” he glanced up, looking past Morgana and seeing what the others were up to. He seemed satisfied with whatever it was he saw so he continued, “I’m kind of on the run.” Then as he saw Morgana take a rather large step backwards he hastened to add, “No! Not like that! I’m not on the run from the cops, well not this time, last time was all just a massive misunderstanding… no, I’m kind of on the run from my own life? That make sense?”
“No.”
He rolled his eyes, “Oh how charming!”
“You’re lucky I’m still talking to you!”
“Then why are you still talking to me?”
Morgana sighed, “Because your crackpot story might be interesting and you never paid me for that coffee earlier.”
“Ah…” he began rummaging around in his pockets, a look of deep concentration on his face. He frowned at her as he continued to rummage through his pockets, not finding anything, “I don’t usually carry change, but things have changed – if you pardon the pun – and I probably should. How much was the coffee?”
“Tell me the rest of the story then pay.” Morgana said with a resigned sigh, “Sit.” She nodded towards the table behind them and took the chair facing the window, knowing he would freak out otherwise if his earlier behaviour was anything to go by.
He seemed to appreciate the gesture as he sat without a moment’s hesitation, even managing to pull his hood down from where it had still been up. “I like you,” he said, pausing for a second before continuing, “Like I said, this whole story is a bit of a mess, and it was all my fault.”
“I don’t doubt it.”
“I really am hoping your bark is worse than your bite!” he laughed, stretching back in the first sign of relaxation he had shown since she’d met him, “I was, to put it nicely, a complete idiot. I trusted this person I should never have trusted, got in with the wrong crowd, did drugs, alcohol, everything you could think of I probably did it, but I realised things were getting out of control.” Morgana went to say something but he raised his hand to stop her before she could start, “Just let me finish, that’s all I ask. I suppose you’re thinking ‘What is this guy doing then? Everyone does stupid things, they don’t need to hide in coffee shops and steal brownies from me’, which is true, yeah, and I really am sorry about the forgetting to pay thing, but you see it’s more complicated because I’m not just your ordinary guy.”
“Big headed much?”
“It’s true! I’m a model, an actor and a musician, admired across Europe, followed everywhere I go by a truckload of screaming guys and girls, and I realised that I was a role model to them, and doing all this stupid stuff was just gonna send them down the wrong road, so I ran. Sophia – the person I trusted but so shouldn’t have – was manipulative and just a general bitch, and I know that if I hadn’t got out the day I did, I would have been killed, either by her or by the things she was feeding into my system whilst she pretended to love me. I’ve been checking the papers – I’ve been gone nearly a week now hopping from mates couch to mates couch but not staying long because they’re all in it for the fame and would quite happily sell me out to get the glory – and she is seriously angry, my fans are devastated…”
“Hold up…” Morgana said, “You don’t happen to be Gwaine Oakley do you?”
The guy sighed, running a hand through his hair, “Close enough. It’s Gwaine Orkney, and I thought you said you didn’t keep up with the tabloid?
“I clear up the papers from the table every day and your name has been plastered across the front page every day for the past week, I might not read the articles, but I can see the names. I take it, however, that your next question will be ‘oh lovely, non-tabloid-reading Morgana, please will you offer me a place to stay wherever you live and let me have coffee and brownies everyday’?” She was smiling now, as she watched Gwaine blush then try to hide it by faking a coughing fit.
After a few moments he said, “I wasn’t going to put it into so many words, yet that’s a bit more eloquent than when I asked you earlier, but if you’re gonna put it like that…. Could you possibly give me a space to stay?”
Morgana sat and watched him for a moment. The guy – she really should just start calling him Gwaine really – seemed decent enough, obviously had money somewhere though whether he could still access it was another story, and didn’t seem to still be taking all the stuff he said he had previously tried, “What will you give me in return?” she asked, he couldn’t expect to get something for nothing.
“Company? I don’t know! I’ll do the washing and the cleaning, I’ll find a job somewhere and then I can start paying you rent or something, because right now Sophia is tracking my bank accounts so if I access them I will be caught and back in the limelight and I am so not ready for that right now. I just… I need a break, Morgana.”
She glanced over to where the others were sitting, Gwen gesturing animatedly away telling some story or another, the group of them laughing and having a ball. At Gwen’s feet, the bags of Arthur’s clothes still sat forlornly waiting for a trip to the charity shop, and it was the memory of her brother that stirred her into a reaction.
“Fine. You can have my spare room! I don’t know what I’m doing and if you turn out to be a serial killer well I guess I only have myself to blame. We’ll tell those guys that I put an advert up somewhere for a new housemate and you came in enquiring about it otherwise Elena will freak she is positively terrified of stranger danger and I think you actually asking for somewhere to stay would tip her further over the edge than anything else.”
Gwaine laughed at that, “Alright, I guess I can play by your rules.” He stopped, looking round as he heard a rather loud rumble of laughter erupting from the table next to them then said, “Those clothes Gwen – it is Gwen isn’t it? – has over there, are they all just going to a charity shop?”
“I think so, she doesn’t really need them.”
“Could I have them?”
“What!?”
“Look, when I left, I left everything. I took only what I was wearing and what I could fit into my jeans, which really wasn’t much since they decided that pockets were no longer a necessity. I could really do with some clothes and we’ve spoken about the money thing…”
“And how exactly do you expect me to get them back?”
“I don’t know, make something up like you lent him something and he never gave it back? I don’t know, I might be a songwriter but making up that shit takes time.”
“We’re going to have to tell them,” she jerked her thumb towards Elena and crew “Who you are though… you do realise that, don’t you?”
Gwaine visibly gulped, “Can I trust them not to tell a soul?”
“Well yeah… honestly, Gwaine, I’ve known Elena and Gwen all my life and Leon is my brother’s best mate I know them all. None of them want fame or glory, none of them would be swayed by money or the chance of getting their face in the paper, you can trust them.”
She waited for a response. Gwaine looked understandably nervous, he kept glancing towards the other table then back at Morgana before coming to a decision, “Fine, we tell ‘em, and then we sort out the clothes issue?”
“Alright. Let’s go!”
“What we tell them now!?”
“No time like the present, Gwaine.” And she stood and walked back over to join her friends. “Hey guys, I’d like you to meet my new housemate, Gwaine Orkney.”
Gwaine appeared behind her, smiling awkwardly, seeming to be internally arguing with himself over what to do next and seemed to settle on “Hi there!” and an awkward little wave.
“Nice to meet you.” “Housemate!?” “Gwaine Orkney!?” Leon, Elena and Gwen said all at once.
“Yes Elena I decided I need a housemate, there’s no point in me paying rent for such a nice house all on my own and I mean it’s in a great area and everything. And yes, Gwen, this is Gwaine Orkney. You are to tell no one he is here, and you are not to mention to any of the customers that you know him now. You guys promise?”
“I promise.” Gwen huffed, “As long as we get an explanation as to how you managed to get him as a housemate!”
“That can be a story for once you have locked the door and given me my brother’s clothes back. This one here had to leave in a hurry without being able to pack anything so he might as well make use of Arthur’s old rags.”
Gwen followed her orders and locked the Cookie Tin door for the last time that day. Elena hurried into the kitchen to make a pot of tea and a separate pot of coffee, as well as bringing out all the leftovers from the day for them all to tuck into. They sat together well into the night, Gwaine telling them his story again, the others accepting it as a pretty much standard occurrence then moving on to telling him all about themselves and almost their entire life stories. He struggled really to keep up with everything, but found himself laughing more than he had done in an awfully long time.
It was nearly midnight before Morgana showed him back to her house. It wasn’t huge, it didn’t really need to be. Only she lived there, but it was cosy. All the furniture was new and modern, with most of all the walls painted either a soft cream colour or pure white, the only exceptions being the kitchen (painted pastel green and yellow) and the signature purple wall opposite her bed.
“My bedroom,” Morgana said as she kicked her heels off and deciding she wasn’t going to put them away – after a weird day she deserved a bit of freedom, “Is in the attic, and you aren’t to enter it under any circumstances, and don’t worry about bathrooms, I have an ensuite shower and toilet and there’s a separate bathroom on the floor your room is on.”
“Right. Any rules I need to know about?”
Morgana laughed, “I’ve never had to have house rules before! I guess you can clean your own toilet – and I do actually expect it to be cleaned, I don’t want that smell leaking out all over the house – and generally just keep tidy, yeah?”
“Clean as a whistle.” He grinned, “So which floor’s my room? I’ll go chuck this stuff in there and go to bed if you don’t mind.”
“Next floor up, second door on the left. Need any water or anything before you go?”
“No thanks, I’ll come down and get it if I need. Night.”
As Gwaine walked up the stairs, Morgana turned to pour herself a glass of water then followed him. The door to his room was closed when she made it up the stairs but she was hardly surprised, it must have been a hard time for him. That night she lay in bed thinking about what he must have gone through and what he still had to go through from then on. She had no idea what she would do for money, he had no job and no money to spare at that moment Perhaps she should give him a loan… yet that thought never finished as she drifted off into sleep.
The next morning she awoke to the smell of toast cooking in the kitchen. She didn’t bother getting dressed, Gwaine was going to have to get used to seeing her pre-makeover, pre-shower and just in her pyjamas and a dressing gown. She, however, was not prepared to see Gwaine standing topless in just a pair of boxers (not even a loose pair at that, they were tight and what and almost – but not really – too revealing), yet she made herself seem nonchalant. They exchanged a brief conversation, it appeared that Gwaine was still pretty much asleep and was far too groggy to form any kind of normal sentences. He had made her breakfast, though, which was something, and she ate it gratefully whilst he headed back upstairs to finish sleeping.
“You are going to have to get a job at some point, you know!” she called after him, laughing as he stuck his middle finger up at her without even bothering to turn around. It was there that Morgana knew everything would be alright, Gwaine seemed to be like a decent guy and he was a bit of a joker which was always nice.
That day at work she chatted to Elena about what to do with Gwaine (using a code name, of course; ‘The Knight’ seemed suitable enough). Elena agreed that for the while there was no way Gwaine could get a public job, he was way too noticeable, but then couldn’t risk telling anyone else his secrets either.
“I wonder if he can cook.” Elena said just after the lunch rush had died down into the afternoon lull, “I could really do with an extra pair of hands in the kitchen now Leon has taken on a more full-time position so can’t be here every morning. Honestly, Morgana, the lunch rush is only getting worse every day, and you can’t cook for coffee – though I know how you tried damn hard that time I refused to make you any coffee for a whole day unless you cooked something – and I don’t really want to hire someone I don’t really know…”
“You don’t really know The Knight, Elena, we only just met him yesterday.”
“Yet you still seemed to trust him enough to let him move in with you, and he’s a celebrity so we kind of know him anyway…”
They continued to bicker like this for a long while, before Morgana helpfully supplied her with the information that he made pretty decent toast which made Elena determined to recruit him.
“Morgana it’s a perfect job for him! He can stay back here and cook, so won’t be seen by customers, and I can pay him mates rates – I can’t afford to hire someone I don’t know either, they demand a higher wage and with rent on this place increasing I can’t pay anyone as much as I’m technically legally required to – it’s a win-win situation!”
Morgana wasn’t convinced, but she invited Elena (and Gwen who had ‘stopped by’ on her way past which really meant she had come in in the hope of seeing Gwaine again) back to her place for dinner anyway. Elena was desperate to run her idea past Gwaine.
What none of them were expecting was dinner to already be on the table when they walked through the door. Morgana was just planning on ordering a Chinese but before she could even pick up the phone Gwaine babbled out;
“I had a vague idea these girls might be coming over and I kind of owe you a favour so I thought I’d just… make dinner… if that’s okay…”
“Okay!?” Elena squealed before Morgana could even get a word in, “This is brilliant! You can cook!? Can you bake as well?”
“Er… yeah…” Gwaine stuttered, “I… er… as I was trying to break the habits I’d picked up I had to find a new way of… channelling the cravings and stuff, so I taught myself how to…”
He didn’t get to finish his sentence, as Elena threw herself at him, “YES! See Morgana I told you it was a good idea!”
“What is?”
But Elena was too preoccupied dancing with happiness to answer so Morgana felt she had to step in, “Elena would like to offer you a job.”
“As a baker in the Cookie Tin!” she exclaimed, “Leon took up more permanent position at work at the beginning of last week, and I was all like ‘I’ll be able to cope fine on my own, don’t you worry about me’, but it turns out that I relied on Leon much more than I ever thought I did, so now the work load is far too much to cope with and it would mean the absolute world to me if you could help me.”
Gwaine glanced at Morgana warily, “Won’t I be noticed?”
“Oh you won’t be on the frontlines!” Elena added, obviously desperate to keep him onside, “You’ll be working in the kitchens, coming in before it opens and leaving once we’re closed, no one will have to see you ever, you’ll be totally fine!”
And with her final statement, Elena took a seat at the table and began serving herself from the array of dishes Gwaine had placed on the table. Morgana and Gwaine exchanged a glance across the table, but Morgana just laughed and sat down on the opposite side of the table to him.
During the meal they planned a way for Gwaine to become inconspicuous (well, as inconspicuous as he could be considering who he was). They decided he needed to grow his hair – the short cut look was too noticeable and a longer do would cover more of his face – as well letting a slight beard grow out for the same reasons. In fact, the whole clean-cut thing he had going on had to go. Arthur’s old clothes would be slightly too big for him anyway, and the looser fit would draw attention away from his gorgeous physique (and yes, Gwen did put it that way, Elena refuse to comment due to commitment to Leon and Morgana just grinned, not saying a word). The whole plan would work perfectly. And to top it off, Gwaine agreed to work for Elena and follow their ideas down to the final details.
Gwaine started work the next day and it actually went surprisingly well. He was really jumpy before he left, and would flinch every time someone walked through into the kitchen, terrified of someone seeing him especially through the lunch rush, yet somehow managed to lose himself enough in the baking to do an amazing job.
“I’ve had loads of comments on the stuff you made, Gwaine!” Elena said as she entered the kitchen to grab the last tray of the day, “People do seem to notice that we have a new baker but they really do seem to love you! You definitely taught yourself well, you should teach Morgana a thing or two!” and she walked back out again, leaving a bewildered but chuckling Gwaine in her wake.
They soon settled in to an easy, quiet routine after coming to the realisation that it would just be easier if Morgana gave up on trying to cook and that Gwaine could not clean to the industrial standards that Morgana demanded. Gwaine continued to do as suggested, growing out his hair until it fell nearly at his shoulders and allowing his beard to cover up more of his face in an attempt to keep himself hidden. It seemed like things would be okay.
~*~
It was an ordinary Tuesday morning three months after Gwaine had taken residence with Morgana. The breakfast run had just finished and the Cookie Tin beginning to fall back into their post-breakfast rota of cleaning and tidying, when a death-defying crash came from behind the counter. Morgana was there in a heartbeat and found Elena lying unconscious on the ground, blood streaming from a wound to the head.
“Gwaine!” she cried, completely unsure as to what to do as she had never been trained in first aid and never expected to have needed to be either.
Gwaine appeared beside her, placing a calming hand briefly on her shoulder and saying, “Call an ambulance, Morgana, then call Leon. I’ll look after Elena.” And with that he set to work, softly turning her head over in order to apply pressure to the wound with a towel he had picked up on the way out of the kitchen, then used his other free hand to check the rest of her over for any other obvious wounds.
He listened carefully to what Morgana was telling first the ambulance crew and then Leon, preparing himself to take over from her in case she became hysterical or just not very fluent in what she was saying. Yet he was surprised, Morgana handled herself very well, and he found himself being momentarily distracted by the immense sense of pride he suddenly felt towards her.
“Leon’s just leaving but will need a lift from the train station when he gets there and I said I’d pick him up while you take Elena through to A&E seems as you don’t have a car. How is she?”
“She’s alright. Nasty bang to the head and I’m thinking a possible broken ankle which may well have been the cause of the fall (how many times a day do I tell you two that working in heels in this sort of industry is a bad idea!?), but I reckon she’ll be okay, there’s usually a lot of blood from head wounds.”
The ambulance arrived a few moments later, swooping in to take over from what Gwaine was doing. They strapped up her ankle (agreeing that it looked like she had fractured it quite badly, with Gwaine smiling smugly at that until Morgana wacked him over the head with a tea towel) and wrapped proper bandaging around her head, then lifting her into the ambulance.
“Which one of you two is comin’ then?” the medic asked.
“Me,” Gwaine replied, “She’s going to pick Leon, Elena’s boyfriend, up from the station so they can meet us there.”
The medic looked momentarily sceptic, staring warily at Gwaine for a moment, though Morgana couldn’t quite work out why, until he jumped into action.
“See you in a bit!” Gwaine said, trying to hide his glee at getting to ride in an ambulance, as the doors slammed shut and they pulled away.
Morgana too knew she’d have to act fast. The Cookie Tin still had a few customers mingling around, there was blood on the floor and Leon would be arriving at the station in less than 10 minutes. Time to bring out what her brother used to call ‘uber-control-freak Morgana’ to get the ball rolling.
She re-entered the bakery with a clap of her hands which managed to silence all the remaining customers. In her clearest voice she called out, “I apologise for the inconvenience but I am afraid the Cookie Tin will have to close for the rest of the day. We will re-open again tomorrow with normal service, but right now I need to sort out our wonderful Elena and make sure she is happy and well, as well as giving this place a good tidy up. I’m going to open up the goods counter for the next 5 minutes and you can take any of the remaining items, I don’t want you to pay for them but any small donations left in the tips jar on the counter would be much appreciated. Thank you.” She moved across the floor, doing as she promised and pulling open the counter to reveal all the fresh goods they had made that morning.
She then moved to the small store cupboard, pulled out a bucket and a mop and went to find a place where she could fill the bucket up. Luckily they had a rather large sink (Elena had been intending to do all the washing up by hand when they first started but that dream was long gone) which the bucket fitted into perfectly. Mopping was Morgana’s least favourite past time – she much preferred dusting and polishing – but she knew that desperate times called for desperate measures, and had cleaned up the blood and put up the little ‘Caution: Wet Floor’ sign that they had to put up by law.
At this point she only had five minutes to reach the station that was 7 minutes away, so she began both shepherding people out of the shop and locking up at the same time. She had to run to her car too which was totally something she did not want to especially after Elena’s accident which had made her feel like she had too many limbs, but she knew Leon would murder her if she was later than 10 minutes.
Leon was waiting outside the station, checking his watch every two seconds and tapping his foot like the impatient so and so that he was, but Morgana didn’t say anything about it as he hopped in. Instead she began filling him in on what had happened, apologising a million times for not really knowing what to do. And for once in his life, Leon didn’t even try and stop her speaking. He stared directly forward as if willing them to get there faster, get there sooner. Nothing she said or did made any difference; he just seemed so lost and afraid.
In five minutes they were pulling into the hospital car park, legging it through the grounds (why the hell the car park had to be so far away from the rest of the building Morgana could not for the life of her figure out) towards the doors. Although their path was blocked by what appeared to be a load of newspaper reporters, Leon and Morgana pushed through anyway, the vultures just had to deal with that.
Leon stormed on ahead to the desk, leaving Morgana to trot along behind him. “I’m here to see Elena Finch, she was brought in a little while ago after falling and breaking her ankle. I’m her boyfriend, Leon.”
“Hold on a moment, please.” The reception lady said perhaps a little too calmly, turning to her computer and typing in a few details. “Ah yes, Miss Elena Finch. If you follow the corridor down to your left you will find her in bay 4, which is the 4th bay on the right.” And as they hurried away she called after them, “And please no running in the halls!” to which they gave no response.
They reached Elena’s bedside in under a minute, Leon completely blanking Gwaine in an attempt to reach Elena. Morgana walked through the curtain only to find herself being pulled into Gwaine’s arms for a hug and a muttered “Come outside the bay.”
What followed turned out to be really rather horrible.
“Someone found out.” Gwaine whispered to her.
“Found out what?” Morgana replied, mimicking his hushed tones.
“That I’m here! You must have seen the paps outside? They were here looking for me, ‘Gana, what the hell do I do!?”
“How the fuck did they find that out!?”
“I don’t know! I didn’t call them if that’s what you’re thinking – I never thought that one of my closest friends hurting herself would classify as a flamin’ publicity stunt!”
“Alright! Alright! We’re getting you out of here. Elena (as well as all the other people in this hospital I might add too) need some privacy and some space to heal and to receive treatment. We are going out there with our heads held high, walking through them and getting the hell away from here. Let me do the talking.” She poked her head back into the bay where Leon was now sitting at Elena’s bedside gripping tightly to her hand. “Leon? We’re going to go now if that’s okay? There are things we need to sort out. Call me when you need a lift home or if anything changes. See you.”
Pulling her head back out of the curtains she grabbed Gwaine’s arm and began to pull him out the way she just came, wondering how on Earth she remembered the route so easily when she had barely been paying attention the first time around.
“Are you sure this is a good idea, ‘Gana?”
“Nope, not at all.” She said as she straightened out her skirt and shoved some of her wayward strands of hair out of her face, smartening herself up as they approached the door.
The automatic doors slid open and the flash of camera lights was almost blinding. Beside her, Morgana felt Gwaine physically tense, so she slipped her arm through his and said loudly and clearly (the way Chief Executive of Camelot Co., her father, Uther Pendragon had taught her many moons ago), “Now boys if you wouldn’t mind clearing off, this hospital is trying to get on with its job of saving lives, a much worthier cause than yours I imagine. Gwaine here is not ready to give his interview, the trauma he has been through today has been far too great. In the next few days he will organise which interviews he wants to give but until then show some respect and leave us alone.” She stormed off, once more pulling Gwaine behind her until they reached the car.
Gwaine it seemed was now going to replace Leon in the ‘staring straight ahead’ game they’d been playing earlier. He didn’t say a word the whole journey back home which kind of gave Morgana the creeps; he was never usually this quiet.
They reached the house, pulling to a stop right outside (a parking space that wasn’t usually available on the narrow street but mercilessly was the one time he needed to be out of sight as quickly as possible), with Gwaine jumping out the car and entering the house without even waiting for Morgana.
She didn’t worry though, she where she’d find him. As she predicted, Gwaine had headed straight through to the kitchen where he was pacing backwards and forwards in front of the oven still not saying a word.
“Gwaine…” Morgana began to plead after five minutes of complete silence and no relent in the pacing, “Gwaine, please just talk…” but she was cut off by the soft press of his lips on hers.
He pulled back from her, holding her by the shoulders and said gently, “’Gana… fuck… you were bloody brilliant out there…” and he kissed her again, suddenly feeling unable to hold back the emotions that had been running through his veins for weeks. “I never… you’re wonderful…” and he kept kissing her, over and over again, until it turned into more when the world fell away beneath them and nothing could get in the way.
They awoke the next morning as the light began to stream in through the curtains they had forgotten to close. Tangled up together, they lay for what felt like hours. Leon had texted Morgana in the night to say the hospital was letting him just stay in because the papers had realised the Gwaine thing was something to do with them and the staff realised it would be more peaceful if he just stayed where he was. It was a stroke of luck really; it meant nothing could break the spell that had entwined itself around them.
“Gwaine…” Morgana said into the quiet, “We need to sort this out. I don’t know how. Is it possible to renounce your claim to stardom like you can with the throne? No… It would never be that easy, would it?”
“I’ll do as you said,” Gwaine replied, pulling her even closer to him, afraid she would disappear if he ever let go, “Do an interview with maybe three of them, get it over with. But I can’t go back to that life, Morgana, I really can’t. Not after this. Not after you.”
Morgana couldn’t say anything in reply – who could? She was frightened. Frightened of the commitment he was making so quickly, frightened he would leave her and return to the glamorous lifestyle of his past, frightened he’d be like every other guy and dump her as soon as something better came along. But she knew these fears were useless. She thought back to her brother (the one who had run off with the Brazilian sea merchant – though it was not like she had another one). He had given love a chance, fought past the chance of having his heartbroken and just leapt. Now it was her turn.
She turned to him, propping herself up onto he elbow and kissing him softly on the cheek. “We have to go to work, Gwaine. I’d go myself but I can’t bake like you can, and you can’t stay cooped up here forever.”
Gwaine merely nodded, watching her as she slid out of bed and putting on her glasses (he’d never noticed how she wore them most mornings but usually then had contacts in by the time they got to work – I’m going to have to start paying more attention he thought to himself) to have a quick shower. She smiled at him as she closed (and locked) the door behind her. He brought his hands to his face, pulling at his skin because at that moment he just wanted out. Out of mind, out of body, out of everything. He was done. So done with the life that was stalking him everywhere. He wanted Morgana. He wanted Leon as a best mate. He wanted Elena and her silly little Cookie Tin. But it was never going to be that straightforward.
It was the first morning since he arrived that he didn’t make breakfast. He couldn’t stomach it, and Morgana never ate if he didn’t (he’d always found that slightly odd, the way she would echo and mimic the things he and the other’s around her did, seemingly without realising it). He drank one glass of water in one and prepared a coffee for Morgana who arrived in the kitchen just as he placed the mug on the table.
“It’ll be alright, Gwaine. It really will.” And for once he didn’t believe her. Previously he had always had faith in her, knowing in his heart that she wouldn’t lie to him. Yet this time it was different. He could hear in her voice that she was convincing herself just as much as she was convincing him and it killed him to think that he would be the one to make her sound and seem to lost and so afraid.
They drove to work for the first time since Gwaine had arrived. The walk wasn’t actually terribly long and Morgana always insisted that they might as well not work at all if they’re just going to keep wasting money on fuel. But today she saw Gwaine wanted to hide. He wanted to get the Cookie Tin kitchen, to one of the few places in the world he now felt safe, and stay there for as long as he possibly could. His all-covering hoodie had resurfaced from the pit of his wardrobe and this time he felt the need to add an additional beany hat to his attire.
The Cookie Tin looked, as always, bright and cheery with its red and white checked table cloths, matching red chairs and the little dingily bell that rang as you walked in. Together they made their way to the kitchen area, Morgana checking briefly on the way through that she had managed to clear up all the mess from yesterday.
Gwaine didn’t speak as he pulled on his apron, still not pulling down his hood, and he began to prepare the day’s food as if nothing else in the world mattered, as if the sound of his voice would draw the reporters to his hiding place. Morgana didn’t push him; it would only make things worse.
The day passed actually rather smoothly. Morgana was absolutely run off her feet with Elena gone (and began to wonder how Elena had managed before Leon and Morgana were roped in, she’d had to do the cooking and the serving! Morgana was just grateful that she had Gwaine).
Leon had popped in just after the lunch rush to check up on them.
“How’s it going?” he’d said in undertones, “I heard about the Knight’s situation, how’s he coping?”
Morgana had shuddered that they’d had to go back to the nickname before replying, “It’s not too bad. He’s shaken and is doing everything not to be found out again (and I think he is rather desperate to find and kill the bastard who handed him to them in the first place), but other than that I think he’s doing well.”
“You’re blushing!” Leon laughed, “Is there more to this tale that I need to tell Elena when I get back to the hospital?”
“Oh hush you!” she’d said, hitting him with the drying up cloth she’d slung over her shoulder during the lunch rush, “How is Elena doing?”
“Marvellously really. She might be clinically mildly concussed it hasn’t made a blind bit of difference; she’s still the nutter she always was! And I’m afraid to say she is going to be in plaster for a while. The fracture was a nasty one; they took her into theatre to realign the bone last night. She still can’t work out how she did it but that’s not exactly a surprise.” But he too had looked delighted, too delighted.
“Now you’re the one trying to hold back giggles! You’re up to something aren’t you!?”
“All the details will become clear later.” He had said with a smile, “Tell the Knight I said hi!”
And he’d left the way he’d come, quickly and silently, as if he’d never been.
It was drawing on to 6, just before closing time when a man came in and asked for a coffee. Morgana laughed and told him “It better be a quick one! I’ve had a long day and the end of shift cannot come soon enough!”
The man had given her a strange look and said “I bet it has.” Before heading to a table with his coffee and pulling out his phone. Morgana had thought nothing of it – they often got unique individuals passing through the Cookie Tin; something about Elena’s quirky nature seemed to lure them in by the truck load and it was one of those things you just had to get used to.
As it was drawing towards the end of the day, Morgana started heading round each table to wipe and clear it, picking up the odd plate and cup she had missed earlier in the day and pulling all newspapers and magazines into her hands to throw in the bin. Gwaine was, as predicted, the headline of all the papers, with most of them having comments from Sophia Sheridan that went along the lines of “I just want my baby home!” and just the one “That bitch needs to get her claws out of my man” which Morgana found hilarious and thought she might save to show to Gwaine later.
The man though still sat resolutely in his chair, not seeming to mind that the rest of the bakery was empty and that Morgana was doing her best to suggest to him that he needed to bugger off home. Instead he was sitting with a creepy smug grin on his face, occasionally turning to eye up Morgana in a way that made her innards cringe. Eventually she decided she needed to escape to Gwaine in the kitchen.
“So much for helping me tidy up,” she laughed as she went through to the back, then added in a whisper “That man keeps giving me the once over and I am not enjoying it one bit! Although, while we’re back here alone I might as well show you this…” and she pulled out the newspaper. “Looks like Sophia is getting a bit possessive!”
Gwaine snorted, rubbing his eyes before pulling the article closer so he could read it all for himself. “She always was quite deluded. She can’t get away with this sort of crap though; seriously Morgana, it’s not fair to ask you to put up with it.”
“Oh please, Gwaine, I knew what I was getting into when I let you move in with me –“
“And when you let me sleep with you…”
“- and, oi! That was a personal choice thank you very much and one that I’m hoping will not get shared with the media! Now, we are throwing that man out of this bakery right this second and going home, because you with that smile on your face and the sultry look you have just put on are too much to deal with!” and she pulled Gwaine out of the kitchen, calling “Sorry, sir, we are… AH!” letting out a scream when she was met with a load of flashing camera lights and reporters sticking tape recorders and phones in front of her face.
“What you two up to then, darlin’?” “Gwaine!” “How could you leave Sophia?” “Are your days of fame finally over? God knows we’ve seen enough of you!” “Coming out of your hiding hole you snake of a man!” and then in the middle of them a girls voice, a voice that Morgana vaguely recognised.
“Get your filthy hands off my man.”
It all went silent. The flashes of the cameras still continued but the reporters held their breath in shock and anticipation. Gwaine tugged at Morgana’s arm, trying desperately to force her to back down, he could see the fight set square in her shoulders and knew it was only going to end in tears for someone (he just hoped they weren’t going to be his), but Morgana was having none of it.
“Sophie? Isn’t it?”
“It’s Sophia.” Sophia spat back as Gwaine tried to stifle a laugh at the disgust on her face and the complete guts Morgana seemed to possess. “Lady Sophia, daughter of…”
“Yeah whatever.” Morgana interrupted, “I don’t really care.” She took a long, deep breath, “What I do care about is the fact that you don’t understand that controlling or monitoring someone’s bank accounts and phone calls is stalking and could actually get you arrested. Or the fact that you understand all of this yet still have the audacity to do it anyway. You claim to love Gwaine when all you really seem to love is yourself and your own sense of self-righteousness. If you truly love someone, Sophia, you let them go.” She gulped, forcing down the tears as she thought of her mother who had told her the very same words when the details of Uther Pendragon’s numerous affairs spilled everywhere.
“You’re just saying that because you want him. If you really love him why don’t you let him go, huh?”
At this point, Morgana let go of Gwaine’s hand and stepped visibly away from him. “Choose.” Was all she could say. She forced herself to look away because that second all she wanted to do was go home, wishing she’d never allowed Gwaine into her life. He was a train wreck; one of those men who could worm their way into your life till you could no longer envision it without them. She could understand where Sophia was coming from, hell, Morgana probably wouldn’t give Gwaine up without a fight but this time she had to. If Gwaine wanted to go, Sophia was right, then she had to let him go. She just hoped she knew what was really in his heart.
All the eyes in the room (bar Morgana’s) turned to face Gwaine. Sophia’s arms were now folded against her chest, a look of fierce determination spreading across her cheeks (still the same rosy pink they always had been Gwaine thought bitterly to himself).
“Your talents are wasted, ‘Gana.” Gwaine said, a fond smile playing on his lips. “Sophia…”
“HA!” Sophia cried, “See, you whore, he will always choose what he knows is right! Come on, Gwaine, come on, darling. Let’s stop all this nonsense and go…”
“SOPHIA.” Gwaine screamed. Everyone flinched. Morgana had never heard Gwaine lose his temper before, and she never wanted to again. “When will you get it into your head!? I’ve never loved you! You drugged me the day we met and from there on it was just a façade because you worked for my career. Then you destroyed it, like you destroy everything around you.” He paused, still knowing how to play a crowd of journalists, there are some things that never change, “Ladies and gentlemen today marks the end of my time in the limelight. I’ve found sanctuary and I don’t think I’m going to be giving it up any time soon. Print all the articles you like about me, I don’t care anymore. Now, I would like to get home, it is getting late after all. So if you would piss off out of here back to the little dens you call offices it would be much appreciated.”
In a wave of stunned silence the room emptied. Sophia stood for a moment in the middle of the bakery before throwing over a chair and storming out screaming, “This isn’t the end of this, Gwaine! You’ll be hearing from my lawyers!” slamming the door in her wake.
When the windows finally finished rattling Gwaine pulled Morgana towards him as she let out a trembling sob.
“’Gana…” he said softly, “I promised didn’t I? This is us now, I’m not letting it go, not letting you go. I know that won’t be the end of it, but it’s surely the beginning of something new. Will you share that something with me?”
“Yeah…” Morgana replied with a shaky laugh, “Yeah that sounds good.” And she sealed that promise with a kiss.
~*~
Elena hobbled into work a week later, followed closely by Leon who seemed constantly ready to catch Elena should she fall (“She’s already fallen twice this week on those damn crutches,” he muttered to Gwaine as they walked through to the kitchen, “That leg will never heal at the rate she is going.”).
They’d made arrangements that meant Elena could come in each day and do some of the baking by sitting on the counter and working with items that only required a bowl not the work surface, and then rolling round in her wheelchair to serve some of the goods when the bakery wasn’t too busy, and Leon even took some time off work each week so he could be there to help out with some of the stuff (he really hated all he was missing out on by working up town, though he confided quietly to Gwaine that it would only be temporary and he’d return permanently when the wedding was paid for and they’d settled down a bit).
Changes had also come in the way of Gwaine now helping Morgana to actually serve the goods he was making. The storm of the paparazzi seemed to have passed fairly quickly after another poor sod had got his life all twisted, and people in the Cookie Tin were really quite taken to the fallen star and his culinary genius. Working together appeared to really work for them too. Their lives became full of laughter, happiness and a lot of love that neither of them had ever thought would happen to them.
Leon had, of course, proposed to Elena the day after she had broken her leg. The news had been met with a lot of squealing from Gwen (who had been popping in each day when Elena was off to help with the running of the place) and Morgana, who had taken it upon themselves to begin planning Elena’s big day, taking an hour at the end of each day to add some more details to the elaborate plans (with Gwaine and Leon nursing beers at the same table but zoning out of the wedding talk and opting to chat about football instead).
Morgana occasionally found herself wondering what would have happened if Elena had never had her accident, or if Gwaine had never left Sophia – especially in the few moments of calm she relished after completing the daily crossword, though magically Gwaine had managed to convince her to stop drinking the extra coffee. She thought it strange how their lives had been changed by such small coincidences. But that was only on occasion. She didn’t want life any other way. Life in the Cookie Tin was just the way she liked it.