Part 21: link
Arthur wakes up to an empty kama and looks at the clock. 8:15. Where’s Guinevere? He lifts his head and hears the paliguan turn on. Why is she up?
He drops his head back down and curls to his side, holding her unan to his chest. What is it about her that drives me so crazy, anyway? It’s like she has some sort of magical powers over both my puso and my cock. Well, she’s beautiful. Smart. Charming. Kind.
Why am I questioning this? What’s not to love? I should be questioning why I’m so lucky. Why she puts up with me.
Perhaps I shouldn’t ask that question.
He presses his face to the pillow, smelling the hint of lila left sa pamamagitan ng her hair. He smiles, stretches, and stands, heading for the bathroom.
He opens the door, thankfully unlocked, and heads to the toilet.
“Good morning,” she calls to him, having heard the door.
“Morning, Sweet. Need someone to scrub your back?”
“No, I’m fine.”
“Your front, then?”
She laughs, “Arthur!”
He flushes the toilet and pokes his head through the side of the paliguan curtain, pouting at her.
“What, you didn’t get enough of me last night?” she teases, flicking water in his face.
“I never get enough of you,” he says. She leans over and kisses him, then turns her back on him, reaching for her shampoo.
“Why are you up so early?” he asks, withdrawing his head.
“I’m going to go to church.”
“Ah.”
She’s quiet a moment, then says, “You’re welcome to come with me.”
“I don’t know,” he says, rubbing the side of his head.
“Your decision,” she says, not pushing, and the water turns off.
He is holding her towel for her when she steps out, wrapping her in it and giving her a squeeze before releasing her.
Gwen grabs another towel for her hair, squeezing the water from it.
“Where did you get that towel?” Arthur asks, frowning at the one drying her hair. I don’t have any towels that color.
“I brought it from home,” she says casually, then flicks it at him.
“Hey, careful, I’m naked here!” he says, jumping out of the way, laughing.
Gwen gives him another kiss, then flounces out of the bathroom, leaving him standing there, deciding.
While she dresses, she hears the taps turn back on as Arthur heads into the shower.
Wonder if he’s coming? She leaves her hair loose, letting the soft curls cascade around her shoulders. Smoothing her dress, she wanders to the kusina to start some tsaa and see what she can find to eat.
Fifteen minutos later, Arthur comes out, dressed in the same outfit he wore when they went to hapunan with Morgana, including the absent nose ring.
“Okay. I can’t promise they won’t throw you out for bringing me, but I’ll come.”
She smiles at him and grants him another kiss. “They won’t throw either one of us out,” she says, handing him a cup of tea. He reaches for the sugar and she stops him. “Already done.”
“Oh really?” he asks, skeptical that she got it sweet enough. He takes a sip, finding it perfect. “Oh. Really,” he confirms, chuckling. Of course she would get it right.
The toster pops and Gwen spreads some of Freya’s marmelada on a slice for him – she’s ibingiay him the jar – and hands it to him as well. She puts siksikan on hers and they carry their small breakfast to the living room, where they eat on the sofa in the absence of any kind of dining table.
This isn’t a good idea. She can’t bring me to a church. Not that I have a problem with church, it’s just I think they might have a problem with me.
She’s testing me. Testing my commitment to my principles. That must be it.
“Arthur, relax,” she says, seeing the whiteness of his knuckles on the wheel. “You’re going to break my steering wheel.”
“I just haven’t been to church in a long time,” he says. Not a lie, but not the entire truth, either.
“People are probably going to stare a bit, yes. You’re accustomed to that. Just ignore the little old ladies and be your normal charming self and you will be fine, Arthur.”
“Will your dad be there?” he asks.
“Yes. Freya, too.”
“Good.”
“Really?”
“Yeah, well, the madami allies I have…”
“Arthur, it’ll be fine. Right here,” she points, and he pulls into the lot. He parks, and she reaches over and squeezes his hand. “Ready?”
“No,” he says, opening the door and walking around to open hers for her, holding his hand out to her.
“Gentleman today, nice,” she smiles at him, taking his hand.
“Hey, I’m always a gentleman. I just… sometimes forget this detail ’cause I don’t have a car, you know?” he grins at her, and she keeps her hand firmly in his as they walk to the doors of the tall brick building.
They walk in, and Gwen looks around for Freya and her dad, spotting them near a door to the side. She waves, and they wave back, to her and Arthur both. They seem pleased to see him there with her. He lifts his hand shyly, waving hello.
“Where are they going?” Arthur asks, seeing them disappear through the door.
“Choir,” she says, pulling him towards the sanctuary.
“So we won’t be sitting with them?”
“No, of course not. Unless you fancy putting on a magsuot ng bata and calling even madami attention to yourself,” she says, smirking at him.
“Um, no.”
Mercifully, she agrees to sit near the back, though not in the very back pew, as he had tried to do. A few people look in their direction, a few people whisper, but no one says or does anything more. Arthur starts to relax, noting that Guinevere has been relaxed the entire time.
A couple people stop and say hello, and Gwen introduces Arthur, who smiles charmingly and clasps their hands, knowing that in five minutos he’ll have forgotten their names. Soft organ music starts playing, and the chatter subsides.
“What do you do in the winter?” Gwen whispers, asking him out of nowhere.
“What?”
“How do you get to work in the winter if you don’t have a car?”
He stares at her a moment.
“Sorry, my brain works this way sometimes,” she explains.
“Right. Merlin usually comes and collects me.”
“You make Merlin drive from his flat, which is above his work, in the cold, through the snow, to come and get your sorry, no-car-having backside?”
“Well, when you say it like that, it kind of makes me sound like a pillock.”
She shrugs, chuckling to herself.
Maybe I’ll just ilipat in with you and then we can ride together in your tiny car, he thinks, musing about this possibility, his mind drifting to thoughts of them spending a cozy winter together.
“Please stand and sumali in hymn number 77, ‘How Great Thou Art,’” the reverend’s voice rises up, and everyone stands.
Arthur frantically flips through the hymnal, looking for the page, finding it just in time. Gwen chuckles at him again, pag-awit quietly, not looking at a book.
“You know all the words?” he leans over and asks her.
She nods. “Just to this one. We sing it almost every week. Look around,” she says back in his ear, then resumes singing. Arthur glances around, and several people aren’t looking at their hymnals, pag-awit while staring at the front or pulling an errant child back into place or paging through the flyer detailing the morning’s service. One man has his pinky finger in his ear and is idly turning his hand, either scratching an itch or digging something out. Either way, Arthur doesn’t watch him for too long, not especially wanting to see what might be on the end of the finger when he withdraws it.
He looks back at the book, trying to find his place in the song now. Gwen points, and he nods, and attempts to sing along. He keeps his voice quiet, not used to public singing, even with over fifty other people who aren’t paying attention. My pag-awit is generally limited to screaming along with the Sex Pistols while I paint, he notes, smiling slightly.
Gwen reaches over and places her hand on the small of his back, just touching a moment, then she drops it. The small familiar touch makes him smile even more.
The service continues, and Arthur actually finds it interesting, much to his own surprise. Of course the last time I was in church, I was 16 and a complete idiot, he notes.
There is a prayer, announcements, another hymn, scripture, madami prayers, and then the choir sings a song.
He watches, spotting Freya in the first row, likely due to her small size. Tom is in the back row, on the end like an anchor.
“Dad’s watching you,” Gwen leans over and tells Arthur quietly.
“I know. He’s been doing so the whole time.”
The song finishes, and the reverend starts his sermon. Gwen smiles to herself when he starts going on about “judge not lest ye be judged.” Arthur should appreciate that sentiment, she thinks, glancing at him. He’s paying closer attention than I am. Either he’s really interested or he’s putting on a good ipakita for Dad.
The sermon ends, and the collection plate is passed. Arthur digs two pound notes out of his wallet and drops them in the plate as it goes by. Gwen has a little envelope that she sets in.
Another hymn, a final blessing, and they are out the door.
“No communion?” Arthur asks as they stand.
“We only do communion once a month,” she explains. “Were you raised Catholic?”
He nods.
“First Sunday of the buwan for Methodists. At least at this church. And of course on special occasions.”
“Ah.”
“Come on,” she pulls his hand and they walk up the aisle to exit. They reach the reverend, standing in the doorway, greeting people as they exit.
“Gwen, nice to see you. How was your trip?” he asks, taking her hand in his.
“It was lovely, thank you. Elyan says hello,” she tells him. “Reverend, this is my boyfriend, Arthur Pendragon. Arthur, Reverend James Nolan,” she introduces them.
The reverend releases Gwen’s hand, and reaches for Arthur’s. “Welcome, son, welcome, glad you came to visit us today,” he says warmly, clasping Arthur’s hand between both of his. His hands are soft and warm, and he smiles at Arthur, his friendly eyes twinkling beneath a head of salt-and-pepper hair.
“Thank you, sir, I enjoyed your message,” Arthur says, finding his voice.
The reverend smirks, daring to look the younger man over once before saying slyly, “Yes, I imagine you would.”
Arthur’s eyes grow wide for a moment, and Gwen bursts out laughing. “Come on, let’s get you a sweet roll before they’re all gone,” she says, hooking her hand in Arthur’s elbow.
“Have a blessed day, Gwen, and do come back and see us again, Arthur,” the reverend calls after them.
He hardly even blinked. Guess he actually practices what he preaches, Arthur thinks, still feeling a bit unbalanced sa pamamagitan ng the whole experience.
She guides him to a large room full of parishioners milling about, drinking tsaa and conversing. There is a mesa at one side with some snacks set up on it.
“You get hors d’oeuvres after church?” he asks, eyes drifting to some sort of pastry with frosting on.
“Just a little fellowship after the service,” she says lightly, picking up a plate, setting one of the rolls on it and handing it to him.
“Well, well, look who’s here?” a familiar voice says behind him. Arthur turns to see Tom approaching them, Freya close behind.
“Hi, Dad,” Gwen goes and gives him a hug. “Hey, Freya,” she greets her friend with another hug.
“Hi, Arthur,” Freya waves at him.
“Freya, nice to see you. Mr. Degrance,” he nods at Gwen’s father and extends his hand to shake.
“She drag you here kicking and screaming?” the older man asks, raising his eyebrows at his daughter while he shakes Arthur’s hand.
“No, Dad, I told him I was going to church and that if he wished to sumali me, he could. That’s all.”
“Well, good on you for coming, Pendragon,” he nods.
“Thank you, sir. It’s… been rather a long time since I’ve been to church.”
“I can imagine.”
“Gwen,” Freya says, motioning her over. Gwen glances at her father and Arthur, who are chatting quite nicely, both behaving, so she walks over to her friend.
“Have you seen Merlin at all since you’ve been back?”
Gwen smiles. “Yes, we went to the pub for hapunan last night, actually. And he did ask about you. Quietly. Shyly. It was adorable.”
“And?”
“He wants to know if you have a brother,” Gwen says, trying not to smile.
“Gwen!”
Gwen laughs now, “Okay, that was a little mean, sorry. I gave him your phone number.”
“You… you did?”
“Yep. But he works odd hours, so just be forewarned.”
“Okay,” she frowns, twisting her lips to the side.
“Arthur and I are working on something, though,” Gwen says. “You’ll get to see him again soon, I promise.”
“What are you planning?”
“Ah, details will be ibingiay on a need-to-know basis.”
“That means you don’t know.”
“Maybe.”
Arthur walks over, Tom’s attention taken sa pamamagitan ng another man wishing to discuss something about the state of the parking lot.
“By the way, several of the ladies in the choir were quite interested in your mysterious young man,” Freya says, laughing as Arthur almost drops his pastry.
“I’m sure. Bunch of gossips,” Gwen sighs. Arthur pops the last of his snack into his mouth and looks around for a trash can.
“Ah,” he says, striding purposefully across the room to deposit his plate and napkin. He pauses sa pamamagitan ng a mesa and grabs a cup of kahel juice, then notices a tiny elderly woman eyeing him suspiciously.
Gwen is watching, and taps Freya. Both women watch Arthur as he holds his kahel juice aloft to the old woman, giving her a dashing smile before downing the small cup of juice in one go.
He deposits the cup in the bin and they can see him nod at her and say “Good morning” before he starts back towards them.
“He is a charmer, isn’t he?” Freya asks, amused.
“And he knows it, too, which would be really irritating if he wasn’t so cute.”
Freya laughs. “Dear God, look at Mrs. Johnson now, she’s positively blushing!”
Halfway back to them, Arthur is waylaid sa pamamagitan ng a young boy, standing in his path and staring up at him.
“Oh, no,” Freya says. “Walter.”
“Just watch,” Gwen says, remember the incident at McDonald’s.
They can’t hear Arthur, but he is talking to the boy, and eventually he crouches down on one knee. Walter cannot keep his eyes off Arthur’s hair, leaning in close. Pretty soon another child, a girl, wanders up as well.
“Josie,” Gwen chuckles.
“He’s the bl—” Freya stops mid-curse; they are in church. “He’s the Pied Piper,” she amends, as Walter’s brother Brian joins the group.
Arthur is laughing now, nodding at something one of them has said. Then he points to Gwen, who waves when the three children look at her.
Walter and Brian’s mother approaches to peel them away. Gwen and Freya chuckle when they hear her chastising them, “Stop bothering the man, boys, come on.”
Arthur stands, and Gwen is certain he is reassuring her that they were no bother. He introduces himself and then waves to the boys. Josie’s father has turned up to pull her away now, and she hugs Arthur around the waist briefly before running away from him.
He finally makes it back to Gwen, grinning now.
“Kids are cool,” he says, chuckling.
Freya raises her eyebrow at Gwen. “Ready to go?” Gwen asks Arthur, ignoring Freya and slipping her hand into his.
“Yeah. Good seeing you again, Freya. Hope to see you soon,” he grins at her.
“Me too,” Freya says.
“Oh! Fray, I have something for you from my trip,” Gwen suddenly remembers, doing an about-face that leaves Arthur standing perplexed and alone for a moment before he turns back.
“Goody,” Freya says. “Oh, and I want to go shopping with you susunod weekend, Gwen,” she says, giving Arthur a meaningful look. “I’m going to Venice with my mum a week from today,” she tells him.
“Next Saturday?” Gwen says, ignoring what is surely a pouting Arthur.
“Excellent. He’s pouting now,” Freya points out.
“I know. He’ll get over it,” Gwen says.
“He’s right here, you know,” Arthur speaks up, and both women laugh.
“You can get some painting done, darling,” Gwen tells him, turning to him and resting her hand on his chest. She smiles up at him and he caves.
“And you are not playing fair,” he says.
“You have your weapons, I have mine,” she says, lifting up on tiptoe to halik him quickly. “Okay, let’s go,” she says. “’Bye, Fray.”
“What were you talking about with my dad?”
“Oh, you know, cars, women, football. Manly things,” Arthur says, waving his hand in the air vaguely.
Right.
They spend a lazy Sunday together; Gwen almost recovered from her jetlag, but still wishing to lay low. Back at her flat now, she puts the last of her travel things away finally and sa pamamagitan ng the evening is working on sorting her mga litrato and putting them in an album.
Arthur amuses himself sa pamamagitan ng going through Gwen’s record collection.
“Beatles… Beatles… Bowie… Chicago. Chicago?” he looks up.
“They have a really good horn section,” she defends herself.
“Fair enough. Ah, Squeeze. Like them.”
“So I have one album of which he approves,” Guinevere mutters.
“Stevie Wonder? Parliament?”
She looks over at him and simply says, “Sometimes a girl just has to get her funk on.”
“Okay…”
Gwen smirks and shrugs.
“Miles Davis?”
“That would be jazz, darling.”
“I know that,” he rolls his eyes.
“It’s my mellowing-out music.”
“I see.” He lifts the susunod one. “Clapton?”
“Must you tanong everything? That one is actually Elyan’s, though. He left it behind.”
“Doesn’t he miss it?”
“Probably not. He’s discovered Country and Western music somehow, so now his record collection is full of things like… what were they? The Statler Brothers? Oh, and Dolly Parton.”
“Isn’t she the one with the really big—”
“Yes.”
“Aha.” He returns his attention to her records. “The Police. This looks brand new.”
“It is.”
“They any good?”
“I like them. And the lead singer is sexy as hell.”
Arthur looks at the cover. “Kind of skinny.” He slides the album out and puts it on.
Gwen laughs and continues sorting her pictures.
Arthur joins her on the sopa now, easing himself in behind her, his legs on either side of her as she leans over the coffee table.
“Hello,” she says, smiling a little but not looking up. She presses a litrato in place and replaces the plastic film over the page.
Arthur raises his hands to her shoulders and starts massaging her small firm muscles, bunched from sitting over the table.
“Oh…” she says, dropping her head down. “Ow.”
He stops. “Oh, sorry.”
“Don’t stop. That was a good ow.”
“Oh.” He resumes, his thumbs sweeping between her shoulder blades, up to her neck. She’s put her hair up and out of her way while she was working, and when Arthur’s thumbs leave her neck to return to her shoulders again, he presses his lips there softly.
“I do believe you are trying to distract me, sir,” Gwen says as he continues to halik her neck while he rubs her shoulders.
“Whatever gave you… that impression?” he asks, his hands moving lower, working down her spine before creeping around to the front, palms against her stomach for a moment before sliding higher.
“Oh, perhaps that,” she says, leaning back against him. He is nibbling at her neck now, and she drops her head back onto his shoulder, giving up.
He smiles smugly, successful in his quest as she turns her head towards his, capturing his lips with hers, her hand lifting to his face. She plunges her tongue into his mouth hungrily, turning her body slightly to reach him easier.
“Guinevere,” he says her name huskily, tearing his lips away for a moment, pulling her over him, lying back on the couch, returning his lips to hers.
She makes a small sound in the back of her throat, a soft squeak as her insides turn into a hot liquid at the sound of her name on his tongue like that.
“Arthur,” she gasps, her hands on either side of his face, pulling away to look down at him a moment, her brown eyes searching his blue ones. What was I going to say?
“Sod it all,” she settles on, and drops her lips to his again, but he is laughing now.
“Did you forget what you were going to say?”
“Yes. Shut it.”
He pecks her lips a few times and sits up, gathering her in his arms. “You are cute, too, you know,” he says, reaching up and pulling the clip from her hair. “When you’re all flustered like this. Irresistibly cute.” He threads his fingers through her curls, arranging them around her shoulders, placing curls just where he wants them.
“Arthur, you’re not setting me for a painting.”
“I know. I like your curls. They’re fun.”
“Try living with them,” she smirks.
“I don’t think they would look so good on me,” he jokes, sliding her from his lap and standing.
She takes his hand and kisses his fingers, and he starts pulling her towards her bedroom.
“Come on. I’m having ideas.”
“You always have ideas, Arthur.”
“Well, yes, but specific ideas.”
She sighs, but then giggles. All about the anticipation, this one.
Part 23: link
Arthur wakes up to an empty kama and looks at the clock. 8:15. Where’s Guinevere? He lifts his head and hears the paliguan turn on. Why is she up?
He drops his head back down and curls to his side, holding her unan to his chest. What is it about her that drives me so crazy, anyway? It’s like she has some sort of magical powers over both my puso and my cock. Well, she’s beautiful. Smart. Charming. Kind.
Why am I questioning this? What’s not to love? I should be questioning why I’m so lucky. Why she puts up with me.
Perhaps I shouldn’t ask that question.
He presses his face to the pillow, smelling the hint of lila left sa pamamagitan ng her hair. He smiles, stretches, and stands, heading for the bathroom.
He opens the door, thankfully unlocked, and heads to the toilet.
“Good morning,” she calls to him, having heard the door.
“Morning, Sweet. Need someone to scrub your back?”
“No, I’m fine.”
“Your front, then?”
She laughs, “Arthur!”
He flushes the toilet and pokes his head through the side of the paliguan curtain, pouting at her.
“What, you didn’t get enough of me last night?” she teases, flicking water in his face.
“I never get enough of you,” he says. She leans over and kisses him, then turns her back on him, reaching for her shampoo.
“Why are you up so early?” he asks, withdrawing his head.
“I’m going to go to church.”
“Ah.”
She’s quiet a moment, then says, “You’re welcome to come with me.”
“I don’t know,” he says, rubbing the side of his head.
“Your decision,” she says, not pushing, and the water turns off.
He is holding her towel for her when she steps out, wrapping her in it and giving her a squeeze before releasing her.
Gwen grabs another towel for her hair, squeezing the water from it.
“Where did you get that towel?” Arthur asks, frowning at the one drying her hair. I don’t have any towels that color.
“I brought it from home,” she says casually, then flicks it at him.
“Hey, careful, I’m naked here!” he says, jumping out of the way, laughing.
Gwen gives him another kiss, then flounces out of the bathroom, leaving him standing there, deciding.
While she dresses, she hears the taps turn back on as Arthur heads into the shower.
Wonder if he’s coming? She leaves her hair loose, letting the soft curls cascade around her shoulders. Smoothing her dress, she wanders to the kusina to start some tsaa and see what she can find to eat.
Fifteen minutos later, Arthur comes out, dressed in the same outfit he wore when they went to hapunan with Morgana, including the absent nose ring.
“Okay. I can’t promise they won’t throw you out for bringing me, but I’ll come.”
She smiles at him and grants him another kiss. “They won’t throw either one of us out,” she says, handing him a cup of tea. He reaches for the sugar and she stops him. “Already done.”
“Oh really?” he asks, skeptical that she got it sweet enough. He takes a sip, finding it perfect. “Oh. Really,” he confirms, chuckling. Of course she would get it right.
The toster pops and Gwen spreads some of Freya’s marmelada on a slice for him – she’s ibingiay him the jar – and hands it to him as well. She puts siksikan on hers and they carry their small breakfast to the living room, where they eat on the sofa in the absence of any kind of dining table.
This isn’t a good idea. She can’t bring me to a church. Not that I have a problem with church, it’s just I think they might have a problem with me.
She’s testing me. Testing my commitment to my principles. That must be it.
“Arthur, relax,” she says, seeing the whiteness of his knuckles on the wheel. “You’re going to break my steering wheel.”
“I just haven’t been to church in a long time,” he says. Not a lie, but not the entire truth, either.
“People are probably going to stare a bit, yes. You’re accustomed to that. Just ignore the little old ladies and be your normal charming self and you will be fine, Arthur.”
“Will your dad be there?” he asks.
“Yes. Freya, too.”
“Good.”
“Really?”
“Yeah, well, the madami allies I have…”
“Arthur, it’ll be fine. Right here,” she points, and he pulls into the lot. He parks, and she reaches over and squeezes his hand. “Ready?”
“No,” he says, opening the door and walking around to open hers for her, holding his hand out to her.
“Gentleman today, nice,” she smiles at him, taking his hand.
“Hey, I’m always a gentleman. I just… sometimes forget this detail ’cause I don’t have a car, you know?” he grins at her, and she keeps her hand firmly in his as they walk to the doors of the tall brick building.
They walk in, and Gwen looks around for Freya and her dad, spotting them near a door to the side. She waves, and they wave back, to her and Arthur both. They seem pleased to see him there with her. He lifts his hand shyly, waving hello.
“Where are they going?” Arthur asks, seeing them disappear through the door.
“Choir,” she says, pulling him towards the sanctuary.
“So we won’t be sitting with them?”
“No, of course not. Unless you fancy putting on a magsuot ng bata and calling even madami attention to yourself,” she says, smirking at him.
“Um, no.”
Mercifully, she agrees to sit near the back, though not in the very back pew, as he had tried to do. A few people look in their direction, a few people whisper, but no one says or does anything more. Arthur starts to relax, noting that Guinevere has been relaxed the entire time.
A couple people stop and say hello, and Gwen introduces Arthur, who smiles charmingly and clasps their hands, knowing that in five minutos he’ll have forgotten their names. Soft organ music starts playing, and the chatter subsides.
“What do you do in the winter?” Gwen whispers, asking him out of nowhere.
“What?”
“How do you get to work in the winter if you don’t have a car?”
He stares at her a moment.
“Sorry, my brain works this way sometimes,” she explains.
“Right. Merlin usually comes and collects me.”
“You make Merlin drive from his flat, which is above his work, in the cold, through the snow, to come and get your sorry, no-car-having backside?”
“Well, when you say it like that, it kind of makes me sound like a pillock.”
She shrugs, chuckling to herself.
Maybe I’ll just ilipat in with you and then we can ride together in your tiny car, he thinks, musing about this possibility, his mind drifting to thoughts of them spending a cozy winter together.
“Please stand and sumali in hymn number 77, ‘How Great Thou Art,’” the reverend’s voice rises up, and everyone stands.
Arthur frantically flips through the hymnal, looking for the page, finding it just in time. Gwen chuckles at him again, pag-awit quietly, not looking at a book.
“You know all the words?” he leans over and asks her.
She nods. “Just to this one. We sing it almost every week. Look around,” she says back in his ear, then resumes singing. Arthur glances around, and several people aren’t looking at their hymnals, pag-awit while staring at the front or pulling an errant child back into place or paging through the flyer detailing the morning’s service. One man has his pinky finger in his ear and is idly turning his hand, either scratching an itch or digging something out. Either way, Arthur doesn’t watch him for too long, not especially wanting to see what might be on the end of the finger when he withdraws it.
He looks back at the book, trying to find his place in the song now. Gwen points, and he nods, and attempts to sing along. He keeps his voice quiet, not used to public singing, even with over fifty other people who aren’t paying attention. My pag-awit is generally limited to screaming along with the Sex Pistols while I paint, he notes, smiling slightly.
Gwen reaches over and places her hand on the small of his back, just touching a moment, then she drops it. The small familiar touch makes him smile even more.
The service continues, and Arthur actually finds it interesting, much to his own surprise. Of course the last time I was in church, I was 16 and a complete idiot, he notes.
There is a prayer, announcements, another hymn, scripture, madami prayers, and then the choir sings a song.
He watches, spotting Freya in the first row, likely due to her small size. Tom is in the back row, on the end like an anchor.
“Dad’s watching you,” Gwen leans over and tells Arthur quietly.
“I know. He’s been doing so the whole time.”
The song finishes, and the reverend starts his sermon. Gwen smiles to herself when he starts going on about “judge not lest ye be judged.” Arthur should appreciate that sentiment, she thinks, glancing at him. He’s paying closer attention than I am. Either he’s really interested or he’s putting on a good ipakita for Dad.
The sermon ends, and the collection plate is passed. Arthur digs two pound notes out of his wallet and drops them in the plate as it goes by. Gwen has a little envelope that she sets in.
Another hymn, a final blessing, and they are out the door.
“No communion?” Arthur asks as they stand.
“We only do communion once a month,” she explains. “Were you raised Catholic?”
He nods.
“First Sunday of the buwan for Methodists. At least at this church. And of course on special occasions.”
“Ah.”
“Come on,” she pulls his hand and they walk up the aisle to exit. They reach the reverend, standing in the doorway, greeting people as they exit.
“Gwen, nice to see you. How was your trip?” he asks, taking her hand in his.
“It was lovely, thank you. Elyan says hello,” she tells him. “Reverend, this is my boyfriend, Arthur Pendragon. Arthur, Reverend James Nolan,” she introduces them.
The reverend releases Gwen’s hand, and reaches for Arthur’s. “Welcome, son, welcome, glad you came to visit us today,” he says warmly, clasping Arthur’s hand between both of his. His hands are soft and warm, and he smiles at Arthur, his friendly eyes twinkling beneath a head of salt-and-pepper hair.
“Thank you, sir, I enjoyed your message,” Arthur says, finding his voice.
The reverend smirks, daring to look the younger man over once before saying slyly, “Yes, I imagine you would.”
Arthur’s eyes grow wide for a moment, and Gwen bursts out laughing. “Come on, let’s get you a sweet roll before they’re all gone,” she says, hooking her hand in Arthur’s elbow.
“Have a blessed day, Gwen, and do come back and see us again, Arthur,” the reverend calls after them.
He hardly even blinked. Guess he actually practices what he preaches, Arthur thinks, still feeling a bit unbalanced sa pamamagitan ng the whole experience.
She guides him to a large room full of parishioners milling about, drinking tsaa and conversing. There is a mesa at one side with some snacks set up on it.
“You get hors d’oeuvres after church?” he asks, eyes drifting to some sort of pastry with frosting on.
“Just a little fellowship after the service,” she says lightly, picking up a plate, setting one of the rolls on it and handing it to him.
“Well, well, look who’s here?” a familiar voice says behind him. Arthur turns to see Tom approaching them, Freya close behind.
“Hi, Dad,” Gwen goes and gives him a hug. “Hey, Freya,” she greets her friend with another hug.
“Hi, Arthur,” Freya waves at him.
“Freya, nice to see you. Mr. Degrance,” he nods at Gwen’s father and extends his hand to shake.
“She drag you here kicking and screaming?” the older man asks, raising his eyebrows at his daughter while he shakes Arthur’s hand.
“No, Dad, I told him I was going to church and that if he wished to sumali me, he could. That’s all.”
“Well, good on you for coming, Pendragon,” he nods.
“Thank you, sir. It’s… been rather a long time since I’ve been to church.”
“I can imagine.”
“Gwen,” Freya says, motioning her over. Gwen glances at her father and Arthur, who are chatting quite nicely, both behaving, so she walks over to her friend.
“Have you seen Merlin at all since you’ve been back?”
Gwen smiles. “Yes, we went to the pub for hapunan last night, actually. And he did ask about you. Quietly. Shyly. It was adorable.”
“And?”
“He wants to know if you have a brother,” Gwen says, trying not to smile.
“Gwen!”
Gwen laughs now, “Okay, that was a little mean, sorry. I gave him your phone number.”
“You… you did?”
“Yep. But he works odd hours, so just be forewarned.”
“Okay,” she frowns, twisting her lips to the side.
“Arthur and I are working on something, though,” Gwen says. “You’ll get to see him again soon, I promise.”
“What are you planning?”
“Ah, details will be ibingiay on a need-to-know basis.”
“That means you don’t know.”
“Maybe.”
Arthur walks over, Tom’s attention taken sa pamamagitan ng another man wishing to discuss something about the state of the parking lot.
“By the way, several of the ladies in the choir were quite interested in your mysterious young man,” Freya says, laughing as Arthur almost drops his pastry.
“I’m sure. Bunch of gossips,” Gwen sighs. Arthur pops the last of his snack into his mouth and looks around for a trash can.
“Ah,” he says, striding purposefully across the room to deposit his plate and napkin. He pauses sa pamamagitan ng a mesa and grabs a cup of kahel juice, then notices a tiny elderly woman eyeing him suspiciously.
Gwen is watching, and taps Freya. Both women watch Arthur as he holds his kahel juice aloft to the old woman, giving her a dashing smile before downing the small cup of juice in one go.
He deposits the cup in the bin and they can see him nod at her and say “Good morning” before he starts back towards them.
“He is a charmer, isn’t he?” Freya asks, amused.
“And he knows it, too, which would be really irritating if he wasn’t so cute.”
Freya laughs. “Dear God, look at Mrs. Johnson now, she’s positively blushing!”
Halfway back to them, Arthur is waylaid sa pamamagitan ng a young boy, standing in his path and staring up at him.
“Oh, no,” Freya says. “Walter.”
“Just watch,” Gwen says, remember the incident at McDonald’s.
They can’t hear Arthur, but he is talking to the boy, and eventually he crouches down on one knee. Walter cannot keep his eyes off Arthur’s hair, leaning in close. Pretty soon another child, a girl, wanders up as well.
“Josie,” Gwen chuckles.
“He’s the bl—” Freya stops mid-curse; they are in church. “He’s the Pied Piper,” she amends, as Walter’s brother Brian joins the group.
Arthur is laughing now, nodding at something one of them has said. Then he points to Gwen, who waves when the three children look at her.
Walter and Brian’s mother approaches to peel them away. Gwen and Freya chuckle when they hear her chastising them, “Stop bothering the man, boys, come on.”
Arthur stands, and Gwen is certain he is reassuring her that they were no bother. He introduces himself and then waves to the boys. Josie’s father has turned up to pull her away now, and she hugs Arthur around the waist briefly before running away from him.
He finally makes it back to Gwen, grinning now.
“Kids are cool,” he says, chuckling.
Freya raises her eyebrow at Gwen. “Ready to go?” Gwen asks Arthur, ignoring Freya and slipping her hand into his.
“Yeah. Good seeing you again, Freya. Hope to see you soon,” he grins at her.
“Me too,” Freya says.
“Oh! Fray, I have something for you from my trip,” Gwen suddenly remembers, doing an about-face that leaves Arthur standing perplexed and alone for a moment before he turns back.
“Goody,” Freya says. “Oh, and I want to go shopping with you susunod weekend, Gwen,” she says, giving Arthur a meaningful look. “I’m going to Venice with my mum a week from today,” she tells him.
“Next Saturday?” Gwen says, ignoring what is surely a pouting Arthur.
“Excellent. He’s pouting now,” Freya points out.
“I know. He’ll get over it,” Gwen says.
“He’s right here, you know,” Arthur speaks up, and both women laugh.
“You can get some painting done, darling,” Gwen tells him, turning to him and resting her hand on his chest. She smiles up at him and he caves.
“And you are not playing fair,” he says.
“You have your weapons, I have mine,” she says, lifting up on tiptoe to halik him quickly. “Okay, let’s go,” she says. “’Bye, Fray.”
“What were you talking about with my dad?”
“Oh, you know, cars, women, football. Manly things,” Arthur says, waving his hand in the air vaguely.
Right.
They spend a lazy Sunday together; Gwen almost recovered from her jetlag, but still wishing to lay low. Back at her flat now, she puts the last of her travel things away finally and sa pamamagitan ng the evening is working on sorting her mga litrato and putting them in an album.
Arthur amuses himself sa pamamagitan ng going through Gwen’s record collection.
“Beatles… Beatles… Bowie… Chicago. Chicago?” he looks up.
“They have a really good horn section,” she defends herself.
“Fair enough. Ah, Squeeze. Like them.”
“So I have one album of which he approves,” Guinevere mutters.
“Stevie Wonder? Parliament?”
She looks over at him and simply says, “Sometimes a girl just has to get her funk on.”
“Okay…”
Gwen smirks and shrugs.
“Miles Davis?”
“That would be jazz, darling.”
“I know that,” he rolls his eyes.
“It’s my mellowing-out music.”
“I see.” He lifts the susunod one. “Clapton?”
“Must you tanong everything? That one is actually Elyan’s, though. He left it behind.”
“Doesn’t he miss it?”
“Probably not. He’s discovered Country and Western music somehow, so now his record collection is full of things like… what were they? The Statler Brothers? Oh, and Dolly Parton.”
“Isn’t she the one with the really big—”
“Yes.”
“Aha.” He returns his attention to her records. “The Police. This looks brand new.”
“It is.”
“They any good?”
“I like them. And the lead singer is sexy as hell.”
Arthur looks at the cover. “Kind of skinny.” He slides the album out and puts it on.
Gwen laughs and continues sorting her pictures.
Arthur joins her on the sopa now, easing himself in behind her, his legs on either side of her as she leans over the coffee table.
“Hello,” she says, smiling a little but not looking up. She presses a litrato in place and replaces the plastic film over the page.
Arthur raises his hands to her shoulders and starts massaging her small firm muscles, bunched from sitting over the table.
“Oh…” she says, dropping her head down. “Ow.”
He stops. “Oh, sorry.”
“Don’t stop. That was a good ow.”
“Oh.” He resumes, his thumbs sweeping between her shoulder blades, up to her neck. She’s put her hair up and out of her way while she was working, and when Arthur’s thumbs leave her neck to return to her shoulders again, he presses his lips there softly.
“I do believe you are trying to distract me, sir,” Gwen says as he continues to halik her neck while he rubs her shoulders.
“Whatever gave you… that impression?” he asks, his hands moving lower, working down her spine before creeping around to the front, palms against her stomach for a moment before sliding higher.
“Oh, perhaps that,” she says, leaning back against him. He is nibbling at her neck now, and she drops her head back onto his shoulder, giving up.
He smiles smugly, successful in his quest as she turns her head towards his, capturing his lips with hers, her hand lifting to his face. She plunges her tongue into his mouth hungrily, turning her body slightly to reach him easier.
“Guinevere,” he says her name huskily, tearing his lips away for a moment, pulling her over him, lying back on the couch, returning his lips to hers.
She makes a small sound in the back of her throat, a soft squeak as her insides turn into a hot liquid at the sound of her name on his tongue like that.
“Arthur,” she gasps, her hands on either side of his face, pulling away to look down at him a moment, her brown eyes searching his blue ones. What was I going to say?
“Sod it all,” she settles on, and drops her lips to his again, but he is laughing now.
“Did you forget what you were going to say?”
“Yes. Shut it.”
He pecks her lips a few times and sits up, gathering her in his arms. “You are cute, too, you know,” he says, reaching up and pulling the clip from her hair. “When you’re all flustered like this. Irresistibly cute.” He threads his fingers through her curls, arranging them around her shoulders, placing curls just where he wants them.
“Arthur, you’re not setting me for a painting.”
“I know. I like your curls. They’re fun.”
“Try living with them,” she smirks.
“I don’t think they would look so good on me,” he jokes, sliding her from his lap and standing.
She takes his hand and kisses his fingers, and he starts pulling her towards her bedroom.
“Come on. I’m having ideas.”
“You always have ideas, Arthur.”
“Well, yes, but specific ideas.”
She sighs, but then giggles. All about the anticipation, this one.
Part 23: link
