While Alpha!Arthur x Omega!Merlin isn't my favorite dynamic, it is soooo interesting to think about
Merlin is not submissive. He rejects authority, treats them like they treat everyone else. He's the one protecting Arthur in the background, he's not passive even when people believe he is
What he is, is devoted. He is entirely devoted to Arthur. So much. Beyond what anyone could imagine.
And that is interesting.
Merlin is so devoted to Arthur, he puts his life in his hands. Do what you wish as long as you survive and if you don't, here's the truth, this is me and I hope you can forgive me.
Merlin's life is Arthur's. Nothing will matter as much as Arthur ever will, not even himself, especially himself. His heart, his body, his life, even his magic, it all belongs to Arthur.
There is not a single piece of himself he wouldn't sacrifice for Arthur.
And then you have Arthur who is so incredibly confused, he knows magic isn't evil because Merlin isn't evil and even if Merlin has magic, there couldn't be a world in which Merlin is evil so magic isn't either.
He realizes he's in love with Merlin. Incredibly so. Has risked his own life time and time again, nearly paid with his own life in exchange for his. All without hesitation.
Not because he was taught it was his duty as an alpha to do that. No, because Merlin was that important to him, it all was natural, not even a question and no doubts left
So he wants to pursue that relationship, wants to give Merlin the thanks and recognition he deserves for all he had done, all without anyone ever knowing beside a few. Merlin is brave, braver than anyone and everyone should know that
But soon cracks appear. Because Arthur wants this to be mutual, wants this to be equal grounds, but Merlin is so devoted, he doesn't see or understand that Arthur wants that. He thinks he's like a trophy to Arthur that he had earned for not banishing him. He is giving himself to Arthur without seeing that Arthur is doing the same.
"My life is yours" is something they both resonate with. But Merlin's has formed from resignation while Arthur's from trust
Arthur stood there, hands on hips and lips pursed, "What happened to my room?"
The look thrown his way spoke elegantly of what Merlin thought of his mental prowess, "I'm cleaning it."
He raised an eyebrow, "Cleaning?"
"Yes, cleaning. And a bit of rearranging."
"Mm. I see that." Arthur did some quick math as he carefully walked around the piles of clothes, stacks of books, and pieces of armor. "And the bed?"
Merlin straightened from his task, a puzzled frown on his face, "I made it. Are you feeling alright?"
"Not sure.” He responded thoughtfully, “I think I'll be indisposed for the next couple of days. From a fever, perhaps."
Arthur climbed into the circular mound gracing the royal mattress. Quills, parchment, bits of chainmail, and even the hilt of a sword could be seen filling the gaps between soft, downy blankets, rich furs that'd be ruined by week’s end, and enough pillows to furnish at least five rooms. It really was a nice nest. His inner alpha rumbled contentedly, proud of the hard work his mate put into making this.
He'd have to do something about that sword though. It was a rather nasty accident waiting to happen, especially given how much they utilized the space.
Merlin moved to Arthur's side of the bed and placed a hand against the King's forehead. "You don't feel warm. Are you sure you're getting sick?"
Arthur noted the glassy gleam in the omega’s eyes and the heat emanating from his palm."I can say with complete certainty I won't be leaving this room anytime soon."
Merlin's scent spiked with worry, "Should I get Gaius?"
He caught Merlin's fingers and pressed them to his lips in a light kiss, "All I need is you."
Merlin rolled his eyes, "You just want me here to wait on you hand and foot."
Arthur scoffed even as he snuggled further into the inviting softness, "You are, by far, the worst servant it was ever my misfortune to have, so no, I don't. I want you here because I love you. Because you bring out the best in me and my nature. Because you give my life joy and meaning. Because without you by my side, I would feel a hole where my heart should be- oof!" His pompous speech was cut off by the sudden appearance of a pillow thrown at him by his now laughing mate. Arthur smiled and tossed it aside. Pulling Merlin to his chest, he began kissing him soundly, breathing in the intoxicating mix of dried herbs and smoke, each note enhanced by the sharp overtone of sun-warm metal.
Even after their lips parted, they stayed like that; Arthur holding his other half, stroking back dark hair as the omega pressed a nose to his neck. It was the ever increasing warmth against his skin that reminded him of all the things that needed doing before they could lose themselves completely. "I have one or two tasks for you-"
With a huff, Merlin pushed himself upright, and unconsciously began mending the tumbled walls of his nest, "I see, never mind what I was doing before you interrupted. What is your command, Sire? I'm obviously at your beck and call, truly willing to drop everything to fulfill your every whim. In fact- oof!" It was Arthur’s turn to throw the pillow, which Merlin fumbled briefly before tucking it back into place.
"As I was saying,” Arthur growled, calling his omega to attention, “I need you to find Leon and tell him to be ready to take over training. Also, inform the council we will not reconvene until next week, regardless of how important they think their petition is.”
Merlin crossed his arms, a raised eyebrow the only acknowledgment of the orders he'd been given.
Arthur sighed, ignoring the prick of annoyance from his inner alpha, and wisely decided to change tactics. Giving his most charming smile, he added sweetly, "Please?"
Merlin smirked, "That's better." And after bestowing a very thorough departing kiss, he asked, "Are you sure you don't want me to fetch Gaius? You do seem to be acting a little strange."
"No need to bother him. I'm confident the two of us will manage quite nicely.”
Merlin just shrugged, and maneuvering around the messes strewn across the floor, left to do as he'd been bidden.
Sitting up, Arthur shook his head at the oblivious omega, happy Merlin felt so safe that he hadn't even noticed he was entering heat. He'd fought hard as King to guarantee that safety, and his alpha gloried in providing such lasting security for his mate.
Trying not to disturb the neat layers around him, Arthur worked carefully to pull out the sword while making a mental list of final preparations. He'd need to go to the kitchens to arrange their meals and then he'd need to tell George to bring up the tub and enough water to last a few days. Hm, what else? Flowers! His mate deserved fresh flowers. He'd go pick them himself- Merlin would like that.
A quick search of the rest of the nest produced yet another sword and a crossbow that, if Merlin had managed to load it properly, would've caused quite a bit of damage.
Maybe Merlin's subconscious wasn't quite on the same page as his omega when it came to safety...
Arthur put the now harmless crossbow back in place and the arrow where it was least likely to cause injury. They'd need to discuss this when the heat was over. In the meantime, if having the weapon nearby eased Merlin’s mind, he wasn't going to argue.
Let's see, he'd need to stop by the armory to drop off the swords, then kitchens, George, flowers.. Maybe he'd have an errand boy run into the market and see if there were any quilts for sale.
Stepping into the hall, his nose immediately began to twitch at Merlin’s lingering scent. The new blanket would have to wait. Merlin, his mouthy, stubborn, adorable, and utterly clueless omega was much closer to heat than he originally thought. Picking up his pace, he determinedly went about completing his mission. His alpha already purring at the thought of getting Merlin back to their room and into that wonderful nest.
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the
Organization for Transformative Works
That question has been asked too many times in his life. Not that it had ever been Trelawny's choice to even BE blank. It's his greatest wish to bond, to feel connected, but when he bonds with Arthur Morgan, it's more pain than he ever bargained for.
There’s a modest mansion nestled in the rough little valley of Willowbrook. It was impossible to see from the road and had remained almost undetected for years. According to Trelawny’s sources the property had enough valuables to make a duchess blush, and he and his compatriots aimed to alleviate these wonderful people of that heavy burden.
‘Wonderful’ being a rather subjective term, his sources were also quick to share rather strongly held opinions of these people.
‘Peculiar’, ‘odd’, ‘strange’ was often used by the polite.
‘Fucking insane,’ from the more honest.
Trelawny despised going in blind, and so he had persuaded Arthur to rather take things a bit more methodically this time around. They were to watch the house for three days to pinpoint routines, determine how many people lived there, and possibly find out who these people actually were.
Arthur and Trelawny set out early that next morning. Charles and Javier would head off later in to small town nearby to see if they could pick up any more information. Trelawny would prefer to be plucking the brains of sheriffs and barmen, but he opted for a few days in the countryside this time. Besides, if his con was to work on these, he really shouldn’t be seen too much in town. Once Arthur and Trelawny had determined the variables, they were to meet Charles and Javier by a crossroads where they’d discus the plan further. Simple, easy as can be.
And of course Trelawny would be acting as distraction and right in the firing range as per usual.
He never really minded it. He quite enjoyed being the center of so much attention; it fed the ego enough for at least a few weeks. As a performer by nature, he really couldn’t be anywhere else but on the stage. No matter the size of it or the type.
The ride was quiet, the horse’s hooves soft against the dew-soaked earth as they cantered over the wet mud. Trelawny in a rare moment enjoyed the silence, taking the time to think of possible distractions and the problems which might occur during the heist.
His appaloosa tossed his head a few times, more frisky than he first thought. So, when they turned the corner to take the main road he egged him on a bit, taking Arthur past with a bright laugh. Arthur, of course, did not take to that kindly and quickly sped up, coming up from the side. Trelawny lay low on Gwydion’s back, feeling the muscle and bone shift and pound beneath him. He heard a sharp whistle just as they reached a hill and like a shot, Arthur and Boadicea shot past them and reached the top a good length ahead of them.
“Ya really thought you could beat Boa?” he asked panting and patting her arched neck.
Trelawny laughed again, “Perhaps on a dull long stretch of road you can beat us, Mr Morgan. But give us a road with sharp turns and all manner of obstacles, and Gwydion will show you how it’s done.”
The little appaloosa tossed his head as if in agreement and Arthur snorted, shaking his head.
“I’ll believe it when I see it.”
Trelawny laughed and they continued onwards.
They reached the small mansion by midafternoon. Surroundings hills and forests made it difficult to see if you didn’t know where to look. It was as dilapidated as he expected. The estate around it had become over grown with weeds, the plants and garden unkempt and unruly. But even without binoculars, he could see a stable full of horses, a man walking down a path to what he assumed was a greenhouse.
There was life, and treasure to be found. Jewels if his sources were good – which they always were - a whole stack of jewels hanging behind a portrait in the main bedroom.
“You sure about this?”
“Have I ever been wrong?”
Arthur huffed, “Wrong? No. Unlucky? Hell, yes.”
“Let’s hope my luck has turned.”
Arthur snorted and turned Boa away from the house, “Let’s go find us a spot.”
They quickly set about scouting the area. They were looking for a spot that was both secluded and free of too much traffic. Some of these areas could be quite busy and they wanted to avoid them as best they could to avoid suspicion. They discussed possible pitfalls of the area, noting homesteads that were too close for comfort or trails hidden between the trees that hinted at possible traffic.
They finally settled on a cramped forested area, obscured from view but with a high ridge on the site which would be perfect for Charles to take out a few men with his bow if need be. But just before starting their vigil, Arthur noted a woodcutter’s camp only around thirty yards from the road. They packed up and moved on.
It would be dusk before Arthur finally settled on a spot: a slight ridge far from roads with a perfect view on the mansion hidden between trees and bush. A long stretch of river hugged the short hill close from the east, cutting in between the house and the hill and a rock face rising up behind them, meant they would not easily be spotted if they kept low. They scouted the area for a good hour but found no settlements, farmsteads, homesteads nor well-hidden woodcutters or trail.
“This should do very nicely,” Trelawny agreed, plopping down on a rock overlooking their target directly.
“You tired of looking, old man?” Arthur’s smile was downright mischievous.
Trelawny took off his hat and wiped at his forehead, “Not all of us can be boorish gorillas with more brawn than brains, Mr Morgan.”
He snorted, “I’ll go get us a rabbit, can you start the campfire?” he paused, then turned back and with a downright mischievous smile said, “Do you even know how?”
Oh that little snip. Taking a long drag of his cigarette, Trelawny stood up and walked straight towards him scratching at his chin with an idle hand.
“I rightfully don’t know,” he said, voice taking on a slight sing-song tone. “I haven’t done it in a while, I do so love living the high life, eh, Mr Morgan?”
“You sure do.” He crossed his arms, as if waiting for something. And Trelawny so hated disappointing people.
“Well now,” he raised a hand with a closed fist, and looked straight at Arthur, “Do you think this will work?”
Bright yellow sparks clapped right in Arthur’s face, he took a wild step back and nearly stumbled to the ground in his haste. “Fuck, Trelawny!”
He laughed right from his belly, and Arthur, despite his surprise failed to hide his own grin. “Go get us some dinner, my dear boy! I believe I can figure out a blasted campfire.”
“I think you just might,” he agreed, jumping on his mount, Arthur tipped his hat the man took off into the field.
Shaking his head, Trelawny e went to gather some sticks for the fire. He had only done so years ago while travelling with a Circus. They’d been kind, they taught him magic, and showed to him that he could survive, that he could be more than he ever thought he might be. Mostly, he remembered Bryan…
A love nurtured through wild adventures and constant laughter. A kiss in the dark, an embrace that turned into more, the sharp sting of a bite, and the painful disappointment of a bond unformed.
His hand paused, turning its journey away from a stick to settle instead on his neck. Bryan had, at least not abandoned him as the others had. Over twelve bites and not a single one would take. Not even his dear Deirdre, whom was now married to the owner of a mine up in Saint Denis.
Frederick was his name.
He sighed heavy and deep, and quietly gathered a few more sticks for the fire, pushing away his misery.
Thoughts of bonding brought up thoughts of Arthur and his impending marriage. He wondered what it would be like for the Alpha to be shackled to a Beta. Shackled might be a rough a term, but many Alpha’s felt incomplete in beta marriages.
Was that the reason the lad was so uncertain?
“Josiah!”
Oh dear, I’ve lingered for too long. Grabbing around three more sticks he popped up and hurried back to camp.
“On my way, dear boy!”
Arthur, silhouetted by the dipping sun, spun to him, his expression tight with worry, “Thought something had happened.”
Josiah held back the urge to roll his eyes, “I am fine, Arthur. I’ve been taking care of myself since I turned fifteen.”
“Sure,” he shrugged, “But anything can happen.”
Trelawny glanced up, a sharp reprimand on his tongue, but Arthur’s demeanor made the words curl up and die. His stood; hands on his hips, head bowed a little, and shoulders hunched and so clearly worried.
“True,” he said instead, “But I’m fine,” he touched his arm and Arthur’s smile widened a little, soft with relief.
The evening came alive with the barks and caws of nightlight. Trelawny leaned back against the rock, taking long delicious drags from his cigarette.
“Arthur…” he ventured.
“Mm?” Arthur, hat tipped low was leaned against a tree; hands crossed over his stomach and head bowed.
“Have you ever been bonded?”
The head tilted up, revealing wary eyes.
“You asked me so many questions last night that I thought it only fair to ask you in turn.” He took another long drag and kept his eyes on his companion, examining his reaction. Arthur’s expression softened a little, his lips pursed under the hat then with a heavy sigh.
“No.”
“Truly?” That was surprising, “I’d have thought you’d have at least one sweetheart by now!”
He chuckled and shook his head, “Nah, not yet.”
“Oh? I find that hard to believe.”
“Believe it.”
“Especially,” he continued, ignoring his response, “Seeing as you were so adamant to know how to court a lady when you were but eighteen years old.”
The nightlife sounds crept back in. The stark shriek of an owl piercing the night and punctuated the absolute silence from his partner. Arthur sat forward, his face falling into shock.
“You remember that?”
Trelawny laughed, “Of course!” he said, “How could I not? Young Arthur marching up to me with a face carved of stone and asking pertinent, deliberate questions about how to court a lady.” Trelawny laughed, “And after you had your fill, you had nodded and marched off only to ignore me for a whole of three months!”
Arthur buried his face into his hands, “Ahh damn, I thought you’ve have forgotten about it. That was just…” he cleared his throat.
“Endearing?”
“Stupid,” he muttered pulling his face out his hands, “Just beyond stupid.”
Trelawny shook his head, “Not stupid if it was sincere,” he stared at Arthur, “Was it?”
“What?”
“Sincere?”
In true Arthur fashion he rubbed the back of his neck and smiled, “Yeah, I guess. But I never asked them though.”
“Why ever not?”
“Chickened out.”
“A shy Alpha? Now there’s a thought.”
Arthur reached over and punched him lightly in the shoulder, “Shut-up!”
Trelawny laughed.
For the rest of the evening, they sit around the small fire, chatting about anything and everything, Trelawny truly enjoyed Arthur’s company, his smile and laugh, and that wonderful shyness that cropped up from time to time. Endearing really was the best word to describe the man.
The rabbit was delicious, the company even better, and he went to sleep with a lighter heart.
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
Saccharine
Chapters: 1/1
Fandom: Merlin (TV)
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Relationships: Merlin/Arthur Pendragon (Merlin)
Characters: Merlin (Merlin), Arthur Pendragon (Merlin)
Additional Tags: Omega Verse, Omega Merlin (Merlin), Alpha Arthur Pendragon (Merlin), Fluff, Original Character(s), Pre-Relationship, but also not?, This was literally just an excuse to write Momma!Merlin, Straight up fluff, like... they were together, than not, then getting back together?
Summary:
Merlin’s still pale and weak, even three days after Ember’s arrival into the world, but he shines with happiness as he looks down at the small bundle in his arms.
And with this being my second omega verse fic in a single week, I declare a new hyper fixation acquired.
Rated: M
Summary:
Merlin doesn't hate omegas, he just hates himself. As a doctor, he advocates for equality and self-expression in the omega community, but limits his heats to single beds and thin blankets. He is not soft. He is not pretty. He's worked too damn hard to be respected, and will not allow casual sex with an alpha turn into something more. He will not let Arthur Pendragon walk into his life and mess everything up, and that includes his nest.
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the
Organization for Transformative Works
Josiah Trelawny could create wonders with his hands; appearing cards, disappearing rabbits, a burst of blue flame or a fluttering bird all from seemingly nothing. But true magic, he felt came from people. They spun and weaved a wonder by simply existing.
In the way they moved, the way they smiled and laughed, in words and mannerisms they made magic. They could bewitch, enchant, inspire, terrify and horrify with simple words and gestures. He called it their song, so easy to move people to tears, to evoke emotion, but one we must all learn to dance to.
And Trelawny loved to dance.
Each step and pace evoked joy, excitement and anticipation for what the next step could be. Over the years he'd become a master. Supping up their gestures, movements, and accents into himself and then incorporating them into different songs and dances he then weaved into his life.
A twist of a smile and lowered eyes evoked endearment, but turn his head another degree it crackled danger. Chest out and chin up puffed up a flair confidence, tilt your head down and it ushered in a mystery. Every step he learned and every one he treasured, because beyond loving the dance, Trelawny loved people more.
The very existence of humans he found to be fascinating, and often, like today, he found himself sitting at the very edge of this marvelous band of merry men, smoking his pipe and watching and admiring people at their best; just being people.
This early morning, Uncle was swaggering across the green, bottle in hand and face flushed red. He noted the stagger, the limp and sway, the uncurled fingers and eyes glassy from drink. It was a common song for old Uncle – the gurgle and gaggle of the alcohol. But when he was not swept up in drink it bubbled like the brook of a water stream with humour and wit, rather than gurgling like a drunkard.
An Irishman and a Mexican sat around the campfire, one with a guitar the other with a voice that wobbled around the sweetness of Irish tunes. Sean’s arms were wide, his smile wider than that, his teasing and silliness almost contagious. Nothing hidden behind a face so open it could be read like a book. Javier was smaller, his song a hum more than a ballad or a lyric, but still so sweet to the world. He noted hunched shoulders, strands of hair falling around a rough face and a tenderness to his features that made his heart ache.
“You should join in, Johnny!” Sean called, his voice filled with mirth.
“No, thank you!” John Marston observed the two under the coolness of a tree, his shoulders hunched and body still, his song was sweet with pipes and a trill, yet deadly like a viper’s strike. It always brought to mind a wolf, beautiful in its environment but wicked in its vengeance.
Like an angry falcon, Abigail swept in and Marson across the head. Marston started, his peace ruined by the tongue of his lady.
“If you’re not going to join in, then go and be useful!”
Strong like stone, she was, he adored her. Steady and firm, rock solid and smooth like a silver flute, she rarely said anything out of place and listened before speaking. Her manner could easily have slipped into a palace had she had the upbringing. Another swat and Marston was on his way to the woodcutter’s block.
“Should have hidden behind the tree, Marston!”
Dutch - warm and resonating Dutch - watched on with a bemused expression. His song enchanted, it could swing murderers to repent, bring courage to the fearful and hope to the lost. Trelawny loved his song, adored his manner and sophistication. It brought to mind an English Lord of high nobility and higher honour – and as versatile as a violin.
“Or just do the damn chores,” Hosea muttered beside their leader. Ah, Hosea. If Dutch was a Lord, then he was certainly his royal advisor. A well of wisdom and kindness, understanding, a harp. It would always be a harp. The instrument of bards, keepers of knowledge.
And there was Charles with his drum-beat words and a buck swinging over his shoulder. Clear, concise, to the point, and nothing to hide - refreshing and smooth. Pearson was far more relaxed, his words rough and crass, not the most beautiful song but one vibrant with life and passionate. He could name them each, their respective places in the orchestra and everyday he watched them perform, using their voices, their manner and song in harmony made from both rhythm and chaos.
Ah, so romantic, he thought not that he'd have it any other way. Trelawny loved to dance, but there was a satisfaction in simply appreciating the music.
Taking a long drag from his pipe he leaned back and turned his head just so to observe their newest member.
Not six feet away sat Mary-Beth. She was a petite little thing, barely sixteen with mousy brown hair tied up in bun. Her face was still covered in light bruising where a blackguard had struck her for stealing a watch. Besides being a lady, she was also an omega he'd learned from Dutch only an hour or so ago, and Trelawny despised anyone who struck omegas. They had enough trouble in the world as it was.
But she was new, which meant a new song, a new dance and there truly was nothing sweeter than learning the steps of a new dance for the very first time.
“What are you reading, my dear?”
Mary-Beth’s head snapped up, her whole body jumping with some fright. Trelawny relaxed his posture and offered a kind smile, “Forgive me, my dear, I did not mean to startle you.”
Her surprise faded into a soft smile and a giggle, “It’s okay, I was just enjoying my book!”
“So I can see!” he sat up and leaned a little closer, “What is it about?”
“Oh…” a pink blush washed over her cheeks, “You’ll find it silly, Mr Trelawny!”
“Nonsense!” he waved a sharp hand, “Any reading is good reading in my opinion, having a nose in a book can only expand horizons! Now tell me a little about it. I’m quite curious and I shan’t give up until you tell me!”
Again he was awarded with a giggle, “It’s just a silly romance…”
He gasped, placing a hand over his chest in mock shock, “Romance is never silly! At the end of the day, it’s really all we have!” he leaned a little closer, “Is it very good?”
She pursed her lips, another pretty blush flushing over her cheeks, “It’s about omegas, and um, soul mates.”
He leaned back in his chair with a contented sigh, “Now that is a lovely romance. Two souls meant for one another, so much so that when they do bond it is of such magnitude that it changes the course of history.” His heart twanged, but he ignored it, “Such a beautiful concept, wouldn’t you say?”
“Oh yes!” she cried shuffling closer on her knees, his skirts becoming soiled with dirt. Not that she seemed to mind. “And this one is so wonderful! A pauper and a prince meeting and falling in love in Paris, and everything is against them to stay together!”
“Oh my, oh my. In Paris?” he asked, noting her eyes sparkling with such joy, her hands curling tightly around her book, such a sweet girl, he thought. “Paris is a wonderful place, filled with life, art and wonder!
Her eyes widened, “You’ve been to Paris?”
“Ouis!” he laughed, “There is no place filled with more splendor and magic than Paris, I’ve found. It is simply magnifique!”
Mary-Beth may as well have been vibrating by this point. Her eyes clear pools of excitement and awe. Trelawny’s heart ached a little at this wonder. He quietly hoped she would keep it for many years yet.
His pipe gasped, he turned a frown on it but quickly reverted his attention back to her. “But, now tell me, how does your story end?”
“I don’t know yet!”
“Well, you simply must come tell me once you do! I do hope for a happy ending!”
“I will Mr Trelawny!”
“Mary-Beth!”
Miss Grimshaw, hands on hips and expressions fierce stood by the fire, her eyes burning as hot as the flames. “Have ya done ya chores yet?”
“Oh!” she scampered up, holding the book behind her back, “Um, no Miss Grimshaw!”
“Well, get to it! The damn potatoes won’t be pealing themselves!”
“Okay!” she said and quickly skuttled to the barrel of potatoes, “Bye Mr Trelawny!”
“Goodbye my dear!” he called waving her off.
“And you!” Grimsahw snapped marching closer. “You should stop filling her head with nonsense! What good do dreams do us when there are mouths to feed?”
“Ah, but dreams feed the soul, Miss Grimshaw!” he laughed, then standing with a flourish he walked over to her to take her hand gently. “And besides, nonsense is what makes life so very interesting, wouldn’t you agree Madame?” and he pressed a light kiss on her knuckle.
The reaction was instantaneous. Her whole face flushed in a mixture of bashfulness and fury. With a huff she ripped her hand from his grip and stormed away, yelling at Tilly to get the washing up. The young girl jumped a mile in the air and quickly rushed for the clothes line. The bustle of the camp washed over him and Trelawny felt a wonderful sense of contentment ease over him.
Really, if he wasn’t such a wanderer by nature, he’d never leave.
“How the hell do you get away with that?” Dutch was standing on the porch, his expression bemused and frustrated in equal measure. Happily pulled from his reverie Trelawny smiled brightly and walked over.
“It’s all in the presentation, my good man!” he tapped his now dead pipe out on the railing, “And giving her something to be flustered about is not exactly terrible, is it?”
“It is if you use it to get out of doing chores,” Hosea said, still sitting on the steps of the small house, smoking a small cigarette.
“Ah! Caught red handed!” he scuffed his foot on the wet earth, “I believe she wanted me to wash the dishes, not really a job for these hands.” He held up both to show off their delicate skin and bone structure. Not that he minded helping out, but wasghing dishes was absolutely not his forte. He always ended up breaking something. He once broke a tin mug, Dutch has never let him forget it.
Dutch snorted and shook his head. “Be that as it may, it’s good that you’re here for once, been meaning to ask you about that house?” he shifted to lean more heavily against the barrister. This close Josiah noted his usual strong face sagging from exhaustion. His perfectly pomade raven hair disheveled and even his delicately waxed mustache was coming apart. It had been a long few weeks.
“Yes! Of course! I just need three men to help out, but if the information is good, we should have a tidy stash by the end of the week.”
Ditch nodded, “Take Javier, Charles and Arthur. They should do.”
“Excellent! Thank you Dutch!”
“Don’t thank him just yet,” Hosea said, “Miss Gramshaw is heading this way again.”
Sure enough, Grimshaw in all her fiery glory was stalking across the camp, her demeanor brought to mind a rather focused bull. Who could, possibly, spit fire.
“Then that is my cue!” He said already reversing his steps, “Good day gentleman!”
“Bye Josiah!” they called just as he slipped around the side of the house –
And rammed into a solid chest.
“Hey!” Two strong hands shot out to grab his wrists, stopping him from landing right on his rear. Josiah looked slightly down into a dark face, brown eyes shining in the sunlight.
“Charles!” he called untangling himself from the man, “I do appologise, my dear boy! I was em…” he peaked around the corner. Grimshaw was rattling something off to Dutch who appeared amused by her antics.
“Avoiding chores again?”
“What?” he turned back, Charles was smirking, leaning against the house with his strong arms crossed. He was new to the gang, a damn tracker and shot, with sharp eyes and a steadiness to him that reminded Trelawny often of the eternal patience of a mountain. But not without a mischief streak, he'd come to learn. Yet, even while he was teasing you it was extremely difficult not to like the man. As an Alpha, Charles had a natural affinity to protect people, and he truly cared. Trelawny would not be too proud to admit that he had a soft spot for the young man.
“Well, that ‘someone’ does not need to be me.” He straightened his jacket, adjusted his hat and turned a bright smile on Charles, “I’ll do another chore, like head into town for provisions.”
“Where you can get a hot bath and a meal at a fancy restaurant?”
“Precisely! Now, if you’ll excuse me –“
A firm hand grabbed his arm, yanking his momentum and making his foot dangle before stepping gently on the soft grass. Josiah turned a frown on him. Charles was smiling.
Josiah cleared his throat, “Was there something else, my young man?”
“Grimshaw asked me to catch you if went around the house.” he said with a sharp little smirk, “Sorry, Mr Trelawny."
“Charles!” he admonished, but he was already reaching for a smoke bomb hidden in his pocket, “You are a traitor to your fellow man!”
He shrugged, pulling him to the corner of the house, that sharp little smirk still in place. “Might be, but…” and here he leaned close, breath practically whispering over his ear.
“I don’t wanna do the dishes either.”
He blamed it on the laughter that burst out of him making his hand fumble. The smoke bomb fell out of his fingers and landed softly between the sprigs of grass. Josiah felt it had betrayed him as much as Charles had at that moment.
“There he is!” Grimshaw said already storming closer with a victorious smile pulling over he features, “Thank you, Mr Smith!”
“No problem, ma’am,” he said, nodding his head and studiously avoiding Trelawny’s eye line.
“Come along, Mr Trelawny!” she grabbed his arm and physically pulled him to the dishes. “They won’t be washing themselves.”
“I do declare madam!” he struggled against her hand, but it was like a vice, a damned grip of death! “I do not appreciate this manhandling! Charles! I will have your head for this!”
Charles Smith drenched in the glow of a dipping sun, only smiled back. His brown eyes turning almost black and that smile too sweet to be real.
Trelawny’s ire dissipated almost instantly, and even as he was dropped into a chair and handed a dirty plate, that smile alone made it worth it.
