Title: He Loves Me. He Loves Me Not.
Character/s: Gwaine, Percival, Morgana, Merlin
Summary: Instead of saying something, Gwaine keeps ordering flowers just so he can see Percy. It doesn't work as well as he expects.
Word Count: 750
Prompt: 282: wlm 750 words
Author's Notes: I struggled a lot with this week's word limit, this wanted to be longer.
He's going to quit.
Gwaine swears it on the memory of his former thriving social life. Enslaving himself to a desk and satisfying Morgause's every whim is no way to live. Morgana only pulled her strings to get him this personal assistant position because she has a twisted sense of humour. Thus far he's failed to see the fun in having Morgause as a boss. He's sure bathing her hound of hell wasn't in the job's description.
He's exhausted and barely remembers what's a Friday night. Gwaine needs to have a few pints.
Alas, here he is, waiting for a courier to deliver an elaborate flower arrangement—well after his work hours—because it occurred to Morgause's sleazy cousin, Cenred that he ought to seduce Vivian so they can trap her father into their greedy clutches. The sun is already low on the sky by the time a white van with Rainbow Bouquets written on one side, stops in front of him.
Gwaine's tiredness dissipates when a mountain of a man gets out the van. He stares. The bloke has bulging biceps visible thanks to his sleeveless hoodie and as he turns around to get the bouquet Gwaine has a chance to admire his backside. Oh.
Mr. Nice Arse faces Gwaine with dozens of red, white and pink roses. "Delivery for a—Mister King?" He asks.
"Uh yeah. I mean no, I'm not him. But I'll take them to him."
He gets an unsure smile. "Okay, I'll need your signature."
Gwaine takes the flowers, leaving them on the pavement. Stepping closer he gets a whiff of citrus, of something sharp and strong he finds alluring. Gwaine can't help himself, his fingers linger more than necessary. Their hands brush together. Gwaine receives a long, calculating look in return.
Gwaine is left standing alone and intrigued. The night's chill biting his skin.
Come Monday he's back in his cubicle, and when Cenred asks him to order more flowers, something bigger, lush and definitely high-priced, he complies with the order without a word of protest. Cheerily Gwaine clicks on the same day delivery button.
After a grandiose display of raw magnetism and a casual invitation for a cup of coffee in the break room, Gwaine learns his name.
"So, Percival, you must be tired after coming up to the eighth floor with all those flowers."
"Taking the lift is hardly an strenuous activity," Percival protests, but smiles nonetheless taking the cup Gwaine offers.
Gwaine always perseveres.
Percival is pleasant and tall and broad and his body looks tight. Gwaine wants, no, needs to climb him. So bad.
In two weeks Gwaine's ordered more flowers and chocolates than he has in his entire existence. He doesn't know what to do with them anymore.
"Here you go, love," he says handing Merlin a bouquet of lilies that night at the pub.
"Uh oh," Morgana says eyeing the flowers. "Arthur is not going to like it."
"It's just a friendly gesture," Merlin answers delighted with his gift, "He'll get it."
He doesn't. Arthur stares at the bouquet like he'd want to set it on fire by sheer willpower. Gwaine shakes his head in amusement.
"Stop brooding, Princess. He's all yours.."
Ten minutes later he's treated to the Merlin&Arthur show, tongues and hands and heart eyes. If only he had the same luck.
"Can I call you Percy?" Gwaine blurts out one morning after Percival hands him a hamper full of assorted teas and biscuits he ordered in a panic because he's an idiot and can't ask the bloke for his number.
"I suppose. We're friends now."
They fall into a rhythm. They go out for drinks, have luch together and watch Classic Doctor Who with their bodies touching on Gwaine's small sofa. If Gwaine were to press closer they'd be thigh to thigh, and if either of them were turn their heads their lips would touch.
If, if, if.
"What am I doing wrong? I mean, if the princess can get his head out of his arse and get Merlin, how come Percy and I remain platonic."
"Did you ask him out for real? Or have you only tried to flirt you way into his bed?" Gwen asks in a knowing tone.
Gwaine sits up straighter. Blinks.
"Go out with me."
Percy stills. He eyes him, curious and searching. Slowly, Percy nods, a corner of his mouth lifting. "Finally."
On a sunny afternoon Gwaine finally gets to climb him.