operation repost all the drabbles part 1

[leashy_bebes]

So leupagus hosted this "damn your fandom is awesome at what you do" fest. And mainly what I do, as my poor flist knows, is bitch about my university. Here we have Leon, Gwaine, Arthur and Merlin as Psychology PhD students, Morgana as the evil IT lady, and Elena as the sociology student for whom Gwaine would totally ignore his love of the scientific method.

What Passes for Normal, PG, blink-and-you-miss-it A/M, 930 words



Monday begins as standard. In their overcrowded office with an under-watered plant, a clustered notice board, and a tiny kettle, they grunt hellos and get to work, only for the peace to be shattered ten minutes later when Merlin demands,

"What the actual fuck?!"

Arthur tilts his chair back and looks over. "What?"

"SPSS is gone."

"Update time," Arthur says.

"Yeah, but – it's not updated, it's gone."

"Used it in my class in the main building yesterday," Gwaine says. "Some second year had to show me how to use it, it was like Microsoft Office all over again."

"What have they done to it this time?" Arthur asks in a tone of dread.

"Fucked with the chart builder mostly. And I'm buggered if I can work out how to do a Bonferroni test while keeping the control variable."

Merlin groans theatrically and slumps in his chair. "Why, Jesus?"

"Call IT," Arthur advises him.

"Don't wanna," Merlin mumbles."Your sister scares me."

"God above," Arthur groans. He snatches up the phone, hits *8 for an internal number, and dials Morgana's direct extension. He's very possibly the bravest of the lot of them. There's a terse conversation that on Arthur's end goes something like, yes. Yes. No. No, I – yes, I know we're not, thank you so much. Yes. Yes. I will.

"Well? Merlin asks hopefully.

"Lunchtime," Arthur says. "Maybe."

Leon doesn't even try not to laugh, because that pretty much means 'sometime tomorrow if you're lucky and the Dean doesn't need help attaching files to his emails again'.

"Fuck you," Merlin snaps in Leon's general direction. "Fuck you and your sodding template analysis and your qualitative bullshit right to hell. It's not even science!"

"No it is not," Leon says happily. "And if we want to have the philosophy of the scientific method as applied to human psychology debate again, I'm more than happy. Otherwise..." he shrugs and gestures at the transcripts, notepads and colour coded excerpts that littler his desk almost permanently.

"Colour coding, Arthur," Merlin moans. "Can't we chuck him out and make him go live with Elena?"

"Elena's office barely fits her and her desk inside," Gwaine says, from where he's face down in a pile of articles. "Also, leave Elena out of it."

"For the millionth time," Leon says. "There is a world of difference between social psychology and sociology. I'm not moving departments."

"Elena's using that – you know that Faithless song? God is a DJ?" Gwaine asks. "She's using that for the epigram to her thesis, you know. Modern spirituality. Football and raving. I love that girl."

"Go back to sleep, Gwaine," says Arthur.

"M'not sleeping," Gwaine says, patting the stack of articles he's not sleeping on top of. "M'processing."

"You better process fast," Leon says. "You've got an office hour in ten minutes."

"Arses," Gwaine grumbles. "Fifty quid to whoever takes it for me instead."

"You haven't got fifty quid," Merlin tells him. "None of us have got fifty quid. It's one of the many perks to wasting our best years studying, or, as I like to call it, getting fucked by technology."

"Merlin," Arthur says, obviously offended on some deep level. "Education is never – "

"Arthur," Merlin says, clutching his forearms. "No SPSS. What are we going to do?"

"I will...drink heavily and shout at you," Arthur says.

Without lifting his head from his arms, Gwaine raises one finger and says, "Black Books."

Arthur grumbles but adds a tally to the chart headed progress under Gwaine's name. On the bottom in pencil, Leon has added pop culture references correctly spotted. Such children.

"Arthur! We have no SPSS! Ergo we have no analysis!"

"Ergo, huh? Maybe you should work on your literature review, if you're busting out words like ergo."

"Shut up, we don't talk about that," Merlin moans.

"You hate statistics," Leon points out. "You should be happy."

"I hate everything. Everything. I hate this office. I hate you three. I hate this fucking university. I hate that I have no other discernible skills – Arthur Pendragon do not say one word, I swear to god – and basically have no choice but to finish this stupid joke qualification from this joke university and – "

"Merlin. Breathe. I'll call I.T. for you again in a minute, yeah?" Leon says. "I'll try to get Elyan."

"Switch it off and on again," Gwaine mumbles.

"The I.T. Crowd," Arthur sighs. "You shouldn't bother with it if it's not a challenge at all," he says.

Gwaine flips Arthur off and rips a page out of his notebook and grabs a pen. He thinks for a moment and then scribbles, Due to technological SNAFU, lack of caffeine and general contrariness, Gwaine's office hour will now be taking place in the canteen. Come and find me. Bring questions, bring laptops, bring those bright shiny inquiring minds. He offers the others a quick salute and leaves, tacking the note to the outside of the door as he goes.

Merlin sighs and spins around on his chair, the effect ruined a bit when his progress is impeded by his desk on one side, the filing cabinet on another, and Arthur's chair on yet another.

"I'm too traumatised to work?" he suggests, like he's trying out the word.

"I will beat you with the DSM if you don't shut up," Arthur tells him.

Merlin pouts and starts rifling through his drawers.

"Leon. Help me with him."

Leon shrugs and digs his iPod and headphones out of his bag. "Sorry, mate. The resulting 4 a.m. freakout's your job anyway, so..."

"Brilliant," Arthur mutters.

Just another morning, really.


fyi - SPSS is the Statistical Package for the Social Sciences. I love it a lot as you can tell. DSM is the Diagnostic and Satistical Manual of Mental Disorders. I...do kind of love that, actually, in a nerdy way.





This one was written for wldcatsprstr_14's "fix-it-with-fluff fest".

Merlin/Gwaine, G, Hot Chocolate, 545 words



If Gwaine has a failing, Merlin reflects – and it really is an if – it's a tendency to dance around the kitchen singing along off-key to the 90s radio station he cherishes so much. Alright, fuck it, Merlin decides when Gwaine gives a little shout of glee, turns the volume up and starts singing along about Barry White saved my life. It's not a failing, it's adorable.

"Man," Gwaine says. "I spent so much of my teenage years fantasising about Huey Morgan."

"I think we all did," Merlin says sympathetically.

Gwaine laughs and checks the clock. "Fireworks start in five minutes," he says.

"Bugger, bugger, bugger," Merlin mutters, turning the heat up under the hot chocolate and adding a splash of double cream.

Gwaine starts rummaging through the fridge and comes up with a can of squirty cream.

"What're you doing?" Merlin asks as Gwaine starts shaking the container.

"Whipped cream," Gwaine says.

"Ugh. Fake plastic cream. And also, no."

"What?" Gwaine looks mortally offended.

"Marshmallows, babe."

Gwaine wrinkles his nose. "Your sweet tooth is ridiculous. Anyway, where do the chocolate sprinkles go if not on top of the whipped cream?"

"Chocolate...sprinkles? I don't know, you can put them on top of the marshmallows when they melt?"

"That's just...diabetes in a cup," Gwaine says.

Merlin groans. "We are incompatible on some really deep level."

Gwaine laughs against the back of his neck and squeezes Merlin closer to him. "Hush."

He pulls the spoon from Merlin's hand and stirs twice more before stepping aside and pouring out the hot chocolate into two cups. Merlin watches as Gwaine adds a pinch of chilli powder to his own cup (ignoring Merlin's gagging noise), and a splash of cinnamon syrup to Merlin's. Merlin gets out the mini-marshmallows and sprinkles them liberally over his hot chocolate, popping a few into his mouth.

"Gimme?" Gwaine says and Merlin presses a couple into his mouth, feeling Gwaine's tongue flicker over his fingertips.

"Thought you didn't like them."

"Don't like 'em melted," Gwaine tells him, reaching around Merlin for the can of cream. He shakes it again, the rattle loud in the little kitchen, quickly followed by a loud hiss as he squirts a positive mound of cream into his own cup. Which a twitch of a smile that Merlin knows meanssorry but I just can't resist, Gwaine squirts a mouthful of the cream into his mouth, pressing it out between his teeth.

"You are disgusting," Merlin says, using his fingernails to pick up a half-melted marshmallow and sucking the gooey syrupy side.

"Mmm-mmm," Gwaine murmurs, nodding, then swallowing hard. "And that's why we are, in fact,compatible on a very deep level."

"Hey! I'm not – "

Gwaine kisses him, sweet and sugary. "Fireworks are starting, sweetheart."

"I am not so easily distracted, you – oh my god, fireworks!" Merlin cries when there's a bang from outside. "Come on, come on, come on!"

Merlin can hear Gwaine laughing behind him as he races to the back door. He's already on the back doorstep, bouncing on the balls of his feet when Gwaine emerges, cups of hot chocolate in hand.

"Ooh," Gwaine says dryly as the rockets explode above them in blues and reds and greens. "Aaaah."

"Shut up, you," Merlin says, but he can't stop smiling.



And these next two were written for cinnatart's multi-fandom kissing meme.

The first has backstory! This backstory: So this is from a fic I started when I first fell into this fandom where Gaius owns a summer camp for disadvantaged kids. Merlin, Gwen, Will, Elena, Gwaine and Lancelot are regular supervisors/counsellors/whatever the word is. Uther wants to buy the land the camp is on, and sends Arthur to volunteer/do reconnaissance. Merlin sees through that ruse in a second and hates Arthur with a passion. But then destiny. And now the backstory is almost longer than the kiss. *facepalm* Basically the fic is like 99% abandoned, but I figured I could at least finish a smooch for this meme.

Arthur/Merlin, First Kiss, G, 588 words






They've been moving closer to this, and now they are right on the cusp of it, Merlin finds himself entirely at a loss for a long, drawn out moment. He just stands there in silence, unable to think beyond the fact that Arthur is so unexpectedly good here, with these people, and Merlin doesn't want to lose him to Oxford, to privilege, to the very different lives laid out before them. The thought paralyses him, makes his throat feel thick.

And then Arthur's hand cups his jaw, deliberate and certain, and how can Merlin think about loss when he has that warm skin against his own? Arthur looks at him for a moment and then a soft smile dawns on his face; he's obviously found whatever he was looking for. He kisses Merlin then, soft but sure, only a brief touch before he pulls back to look at Merlin again, obviously assessing his reaction. Then they are kissing again, harder this time, going from careful to desperate in a heartbeat, their hands clutched together.

It's stupidly romantic. There's silence apart from the breeze, darkness apart from the stars burning in the sky, shimmering reflections on the lake's surface, and Arthur tastes – well, alright, he tastes like a mixture of slightly over-toasted marshmallows and gin from Gwaine's hipflask, the reprobate, but Merlin wouldn't change a thing. He's admittedly spent a long time thinking about this, but clearly this is one time when his imagination couldn't come anywhere near the reality. Arthur kisses like he's making a discovery, like Merlin is worth spending time on, worth figuring out.

Merlin runs his fingers up over Arthur's arms, feeling the play of his muscles as Arthur's hands go to his waist, pulling him closer. Merlin gets his hands into Arthur's hair, messing it up and feeling it tangle under his fingers. Their kiss has turned sultry now, shooting past biting urgency and into something soft and warm, Arthur nibbling at Merlin's lower lip, his tongue making one teasing pass after another.

"Arthur..."

"God, Merlin, you drive me mad – "

Merlin tugs softly on Arthur's hair. "Shut up, you, you're just as bad."

"Impossible," Arthur says and kisses him again, his hands hot on the small of Merlin's back as he pulls him closer.

Just as Merlin's starting to plot a route back to the cabin that won't take them past the others, they hear rustling behind them and the tail-end of Elena's question: " – hope they're okay."

"I'm about eighty percent sure they're fine, and equally sure they don't want to be found," Gwaine answers, their voices getting closer.

"Please," Arthur whispers against Merlin's mouth. "I know he's your friend, but can I please drown him in the lake?"

Merlin laughs and steals another kiss. "No. Sorry."

"Later," Arthur orders raggedly, "Find me later," and Merlin nods eagerly, his heart stuttering when Arthur turns his head carefully and kisses Merlin's cheek.



Arthur/Gwaine, Spin The Bottle: Not Just For Horny Teenagers, PG-13, 710 words




Arthur's eyes bug wide open when the bottle lands on Gwaine.

"I wanna use my pass," he says immediately.

"You used it on Merlin," Elena reminds him. "When you said it would be like kissing your little brother."

"Which is interesting," Gwen says. "Given..." she waves a hand towards Morgana. "Hello. Actual sibling."

Arthur hates everyone in this room and he has no idea why he spends any time with any of them. "But no one would try to make me kiss Morgana," he protests.

"Correct," Morgana interjects.

Arthur especially hates Gwaine, who is just grinning in that smug why, yes, I know I'm gorgeous but I also write books and hey would you like to see my etchings? I am the fucking renaissance way that he has.

"I'm not kissing Gwaine," Arthur says. "We get two passes each now, okay?"

"I don't think you really get this game," Leon sighs.

"I do get it. I just don't get why we, a bunch of semi-successful, semi-professional adults and – please note – not a bunch of twelve year olds, are playing it."

"Booze is a wonderful motivator," Elyan says.

"Thank you, oh wise philosopher," Arthur scoffs. "Not Gwaine. I pass."

"Seriously?" Merlin demands, suddenly lifting his head from where he's leaning against Percival's leg. Arthur had honestly thought he was asleep until he finds himself pinned by Merlin's best glare. Given that he's pissed and sleepy and his hair is all rumpled it's about as effective as being glared at by a three week old kitten, but the thought counts, Arthur supposes.

"What is it like in that brain of yours?" Merlin goes on. "You have – "

"Had."

" – sex – "

"Handjobs."

" – with Gwaine and you won't kiss him."

"It's not like that," Arthur says. "Right, Gwaine?"

Gwaine shrugs lazily. "Whatever you say, princess."

"You are – so unhelpful, seriously," Arthur grumbles.

"Just kiss him and get it over with," Lancelot says. "You'll get no peace otherwise."

"Brilliant," Arthur says. "Wonderful. Fine. Come here, then."

Gwaine – the prick – just stays where he is, sprawled in a way that Arthur tells himself again and again is ungainly, not elegant. Complaining under his breath the whole way, Arthur gets to his knees and shuffles over to Gwaine, ending up between his thighs because – well, there's really nowhere else to go. Gwaine doesn't even move closer, just smiles infuriatingly up at Arthur. Arthur wets his lips and then wants to kick himself for it when Gwaine's smile deepens. It goes a little softer too though, and Gwaine moves his leg just a little, a brief press against Arthur's. Arthur looks from Gwaine's eyes down to his mouth and then back up again before taking a breath.

"Get on with it," Merlin yells, prompting Morgana to start cat-calling.

"Hush up, you lot," Gwaine orders. "You're putting him off his stroke."

Leon makes the requisite joke about stroking and ladies being present, and Elena says something about no objections here, lads. Arthur barely hears either of them though, because he's too busy leaning in, kissing Gwaine for the first time. He means it to be brief and hard and maybe he'll even bite Gwaine for being a dick and not helping him out of this particular hole, but...

But it's Gwaine. And it's the first time Arthur's ever kissed him and he tastes like whisky and spit and himself and it's so good and oh, oh fuck, this is exactly why he didn't do it before. Because who wants to kiss this man once? Arthur starts to move back but Gwaine's hand comes up and cradles the back of his head, his mouth opening softly under Arthur's. Arthur can vaguely hear the silence spreading through the others but doesn't care, can't care, not with Gwaine's tongue sliding over his own, the taste of him leaping through Arthur.

Arthur vaguely realises that his hands are fisted in Gwaine's t-shirt, pulling him in closer. He blames his mental lapse entirely on the way Gwaine's mouth is moving against his own in a slow, sultry kiss, nothing like your spin-the-bottle standard, and Arthur thinks maybe, maybe it doesn't have to be just once.

"Well," Merlin says brightly when they finally let go of each other. "Isn't this a fun game?"



Alrighty! I have a couple more to post, but I want to write a few more first. Aw yis.

Comments

[leashy-bebes.livejournal.com]

Ahahah, oh god, the yearly SPSS updates are the bane of my life, I swear. And I have the feeling you could do serious harm with a well-wielded copy of the DSM ;) I'm so glad you liked it :D