Dec. 2nd, 2005 08:11 am
Title: Home for the Holidays
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lovely_ambitionTitle: Home for the Holidays
Pairing: Gawain/Galahad
Disclaimer: Not mine.
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Gawain and Galahad attend Christmas dinner.
Notes: The fourth and last of the Interludes for the Modern Day Legends series. Now, I have to get to work on that sequel, huh?
Galahad eased away from the kiss, the fresh scent of the spruce of mistletoe lingering all around them. He leaned back in, the flickering fire enticing him to stay, arousing heat rising from the very depths of his stomach as he wrapped his fingers in Gawain’s hair and tipped his head to one side to deepen the kiss.
“Please?” Galahad begged. “Please, please, I’ll wash your car naked, please?”
Gawain arched one eyebrow upwards, almost as if he were considering. “You wouldn’t be able to do that until the summer and by then, you will have undoubtedly forgotten your promise. No.” Galahad’s smirk spoke tomes about the truth of Gawain’s statement. A quick tug closer didn’t weaken Gawain’s stance.
Galahad leaned in for a kiss, but Gawain turned to the side. “Galahad, I…” He frowned, pressing his palm to Galahad’s lips and frowning as his hand was licked. “Galahad, I couldn’t ask you to do that.” He shifted and tugged him further along until they were heading for the door.
“You’re not asking!” Galahad said brightly, grasping his coat and a scarf, tossing it around his neck. “I want to.”
Gawain’s sigh was tired and patient as he dug out his keys. “You already pay a quarter of my expenses, Galahad.”
Galahad just pushed Gawain out into the hall, making their way to the snow-kissed streets, dappled with the brushes of white here and there. It had begun to snow hours ago on Christmas Eve and it hadn’t stopped, not yet. “Now I’ll pay half!” he remarked, as though it were the simplest logic in the world. He tugged Gawain closer, wrapping an arm around his waist and nuzzling into his neck for the warmth as the cold nipped at his skin. “They need and deserve the money.”
He paused.
“Well, your mother does anyway. Can’t say the same for your brother,” Galahad sneered. They walked along the way, the distance far too close to actually drive between. Galahad, historically, despised Gawain’s brother, had done so since they were kids, all starting when Gareth had stolen Galahad’s toy from him.
Gawain just chuckled, faintly amused. “You’re never getting over that, are you?”
“He stole my damn toy,” Galahad hissed, wandering the streets at a lazy pace, obviously in no rush to get there. The trip, however, was shorter than usual because Gawain had a habit of tugging Galahad along by the gloves when he dawdled in cold weather – as any sane man would do. “Honestly, do I have to pretend to be nice?”
“You pretend to be nice? Is that what that sneer is?” Gawain teased him lightly, ringing the doorbell. “It’ll be fine. My mother may burst your eardrum berating you about your gift, but it’ll be fine.”
“If you say so,” Galahad muttered in a sing-song. “At least Lancelot isn’t making us work.”
Gawain scoffed. “He wants time to shag Arthur into the carpet while drinking spiked…Mother!” he exclaimed warmly as the door was drawn open and a pink flush came upon Gawain’s cheeks. Galahad snorted. Only Gawain could go from talking about their colleagues having sex to greeting his mother and not put on the brakes in the process.
Galahad just smirked, hiding behind Gawain slightly, fingers wrapped in the man’s jacket and trying to keep himself from looking like a smug bastard in the presence of Gawain’s mother. Gareth seemed to be hovering in the background inside the house, wandering about with some kind of square radio with rabbit ears attached to it. He was muttering co-ordinates, or something.
“Galahad, darling,” Gawain’s mother commented warmly, beckoning him forward. “Come here and let me see if my son’s been taking care of you.”
Galahad’s grin widened and he stepped forward, letting himself be prodded and poked like some kind of poultry in a shop, all the while Gawain and Gareth looked on in matched disgust.
“Mother,” Gawain protested. “Leave him be.”
“I raised the boy, Gawain,” she replied sharply. “I want to see how he turned out. Let’s see. Teeth still there, all four limbs present and accounted for.” She arched an eyebrow. “Galahad…is that another tattoo?” She inquired, pushing up his sleeve and clasping his wrist with firm fingers to study the ink on his skin.
Galahad just grinned sheepishly. “Gawain dared me.” He widened his eyes ever so slightly. “We were drunk?” Gawain’s mother stared on with disapproval. “I did it out of love for you?”
“Good answer.”
Galahad beamed as he walked in, giving Gareth a ruffle of his hair. “Hey brat.”
“Bastard,” Gareth retorted, rolling his eyes, glancing to Gawain. “How the hell do you sleep with that every night?”
“I put out!” Galahad called back from the kitchen, where he was already rummaging through the fridge, grabbing a beer in one hand and pilfering the appetizers and the other assorted dishes that had been set for dinner. Gawain groaned aloud as his mother charged forward, giving Galahad a firm smack on the wrist. “Can’t I have a taste?” he whined.
“In twenty minutes,” she replied, words clipped. There was no arguing with her when she was speaking in that tone. Galahad sighed, but he didn’t attempt to pout petulantly and Gawain watched the whole scene with veiled amusement. It appeared that perhaps, just perhaps, Galahad was learning some lessons after all.
*
“So, the coordinates should make a triangular vector of the house and form a sort of map, structural points and such…”
Galahad let out a soft snore and Gawain nudged him in the side hard, glaring at him for falling asleep in the middle of Christmas dinner, no less. All eyes went from Gareth to Galahad and there was an intense moment of guilt, where shame hung in the air. “Sorry?” Galahad ventured.
There came three sighs in tandem.
“That’s still creepy when you lot do that,” Galahad muttered, rubbing his eyes. “I’m sorry, vectors and computer-things bore me!” He received three stares now and Galahad cleared his throat awkwardly, flushing with the attention. They thought as one, Galahad could swear. “Um…uh…”
“Galahad,” Gawain began with amusement. “Why don’t you just tell them what you’ve done. It might get you out of some trouble.”
Galahad noted the ‘some’. With Gawain’s mother, you never knew what was going to set her off. It also depended heavily on her mood and whether the sky was blue, or something else like that. Galahad took a deep breath and withdrew the envelope from his pocket, sliding it across the lace tablecloth, past the candles, and the turkey, and the stuffing, and the cranberry.
Gareth snatched it up, like the greedy child he was, and pried it open.
“Mum?” he mumbled, clearly confused as he handed it over. Gawain’s mother took it into her hands and peered inside. “He’s giving us cash. He’s paying us off!” Gareth frowned. “Wait…what do you want?”
“Nothing.”
Gawain’s mother stared inside the envelope. “Galahad, what’s the meaning of this?”
“Merry Christmas,” Galahad said honestly, locking eyes over the table with Gawain’s mother. “From now on…more of my cut of all my work is coming to you. Because I can afford it. And because I want to.” He gave her a warm smile. “Merry Christmas.”
She just beamed, tears in her eyes. “Now that’s what I call good son-in-law material,” she mumbled, nearly knocking over a chair in her rush to hug Galahad so tightly that he swore he couldn’t breathe. Gawain would have protested, but it was a nice moment and it shouldn’t be ruined.
Gareth, though, was just frowning.
“I hope I don’t have to do anything in exchange,” he mumbled, counting the money.
Galahad grinned mischievously as he was released from the hug. “Just put out.”
END
Pairing: Gawain/Galahad
Disclaimer: Not mine.
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Gawain and Galahad attend Christmas dinner.
Notes: The fourth and last of the Interludes for the Modern Day Legends series. Now, I have to get to work on that sequel, huh?
Galahad eased away from the kiss, the fresh scent of the spruce of mistletoe lingering all around them. He leaned back in, the flickering fire enticing him to stay, arousing heat rising from the very depths of his stomach as he wrapped his fingers in Gawain’s hair and tipped his head to one side to deepen the kiss.
“Please?” Galahad begged. “Please, please, I’ll wash your car naked, please?”
Gawain arched one eyebrow upwards, almost as if he were considering. “You wouldn’t be able to do that until the summer and by then, you will have undoubtedly forgotten your promise. No.” Galahad’s smirk spoke tomes about the truth of Gawain’s statement. A quick tug closer didn’t weaken Gawain’s stance.
Galahad leaned in for a kiss, but Gawain turned to the side. “Galahad, I…” He frowned, pressing his palm to Galahad’s lips and frowning as his hand was licked. “Galahad, I couldn’t ask you to do that.” He shifted and tugged him further along until they were heading for the door.
“You’re not asking!” Galahad said brightly, grasping his coat and a scarf, tossing it around his neck. “I want to.”
Gawain’s sigh was tired and patient as he dug out his keys. “You already pay a quarter of my expenses, Galahad.”
Galahad just pushed Gawain out into the hall, making their way to the snow-kissed streets, dappled with the brushes of white here and there. It had begun to snow hours ago on Christmas Eve and it hadn’t stopped, not yet. “Now I’ll pay half!” he remarked, as though it were the simplest logic in the world. He tugged Gawain closer, wrapping an arm around his waist and nuzzling into his neck for the warmth as the cold nipped at his skin. “They need and deserve the money.”
He paused.
“Well, your mother does anyway. Can’t say the same for your brother,” Galahad sneered. They walked along the way, the distance far too close to actually drive between. Galahad, historically, despised Gawain’s brother, had done so since they were kids, all starting when Gareth had stolen Galahad’s toy from him.
Gawain just chuckled, faintly amused. “You’re never getting over that, are you?”
“He stole my damn toy,” Galahad hissed, wandering the streets at a lazy pace, obviously in no rush to get there. The trip, however, was shorter than usual because Gawain had a habit of tugging Galahad along by the gloves when he dawdled in cold weather – as any sane man would do. “Honestly, do I have to pretend to be nice?”
“You pretend to be nice? Is that what that sneer is?” Gawain teased him lightly, ringing the doorbell. “It’ll be fine. My mother may burst your eardrum berating you about your gift, but it’ll be fine.”
“If you say so,” Galahad muttered in a sing-song. “At least Lancelot isn’t making us work.”
Gawain scoffed. “He wants time to shag Arthur into the carpet while drinking spiked…Mother!” he exclaimed warmly as the door was drawn open and a pink flush came upon Gawain’s cheeks. Galahad snorted. Only Gawain could go from talking about their colleagues having sex to greeting his mother and not put on the brakes in the process.
Galahad just smirked, hiding behind Gawain slightly, fingers wrapped in the man’s jacket and trying to keep himself from looking like a smug bastard in the presence of Gawain’s mother. Gareth seemed to be hovering in the background inside the house, wandering about with some kind of square radio with rabbit ears attached to it. He was muttering co-ordinates, or something.
“Galahad, darling,” Gawain’s mother commented warmly, beckoning him forward. “Come here and let me see if my son’s been taking care of you.”
Galahad’s grin widened and he stepped forward, letting himself be prodded and poked like some kind of poultry in a shop, all the while Gawain and Gareth looked on in matched disgust.
“Mother,” Gawain protested. “Leave him be.”
“I raised the boy, Gawain,” she replied sharply. “I want to see how he turned out. Let’s see. Teeth still there, all four limbs present and accounted for.” She arched an eyebrow. “Galahad…is that another tattoo?” She inquired, pushing up his sleeve and clasping his wrist with firm fingers to study the ink on his skin.
Galahad just grinned sheepishly. “Gawain dared me.” He widened his eyes ever so slightly. “We were drunk?” Gawain’s mother stared on with disapproval. “I did it out of love for you?”
“Good answer.”
Galahad beamed as he walked in, giving Gareth a ruffle of his hair. “Hey brat.”
“Bastard,” Gareth retorted, rolling his eyes, glancing to Gawain. “How the hell do you sleep with that every night?”
“I put out!” Galahad called back from the kitchen, where he was already rummaging through the fridge, grabbing a beer in one hand and pilfering the appetizers and the other assorted dishes that had been set for dinner. Gawain groaned aloud as his mother charged forward, giving Galahad a firm smack on the wrist. “Can’t I have a taste?” he whined.
“In twenty minutes,” she replied, words clipped. There was no arguing with her when she was speaking in that tone. Galahad sighed, but he didn’t attempt to pout petulantly and Gawain watched the whole scene with veiled amusement. It appeared that perhaps, just perhaps, Galahad was learning some lessons after all.
*
“So, the coordinates should make a triangular vector of the house and form a sort of map, structural points and such…”
Galahad let out a soft snore and Gawain nudged him in the side hard, glaring at him for falling asleep in the middle of Christmas dinner, no less. All eyes went from Gareth to Galahad and there was an intense moment of guilt, where shame hung in the air. “Sorry?” Galahad ventured.
There came three sighs in tandem.
“That’s still creepy when you lot do that,” Galahad muttered, rubbing his eyes. “I’m sorry, vectors and computer-things bore me!” He received three stares now and Galahad cleared his throat awkwardly, flushing with the attention. They thought as one, Galahad could swear. “Um…uh…”
“Galahad,” Gawain began with amusement. “Why don’t you just tell them what you’ve done. It might get you out of some trouble.”
Galahad noted the ‘some’. With Gawain’s mother, you never knew what was going to set her off. It also depended heavily on her mood and whether the sky was blue, or something else like that. Galahad took a deep breath and withdrew the envelope from his pocket, sliding it across the lace tablecloth, past the candles, and the turkey, and the stuffing, and the cranberry.
Gareth snatched it up, like the greedy child he was, and pried it open.
“Mum?” he mumbled, clearly confused as he handed it over. Gawain’s mother took it into her hands and peered inside. “He’s giving us cash. He’s paying us off!” Gareth frowned. “Wait…what do you want?”
“Nothing.”
Gawain’s mother stared inside the envelope. “Galahad, what’s the meaning of this?”
“Merry Christmas,” Galahad said honestly, locking eyes over the table with Gawain’s mother. “From now on…more of my cut of all my work is coming to you. Because I can afford it. And because I want to.” He gave her a warm smile. “Merry Christmas.”
She just beamed, tears in her eyes. “Now that’s what I call good son-in-law material,” she mumbled, nearly knocking over a chair in her rush to hug Galahad so tightly that he swore he couldn’t breathe. Gawain would have protested, but it was a nice moment and it shouldn’t be ruined.
Gareth, though, was just frowning.
“I hope I don’t have to do anything in exchange,” he mumbled, counting the money.
Galahad grinned mischievously as he was released from the hug. “Just put out.”
END
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