Tangible Schizophrenia


Linguistic Flexibility

Author: Guede Mazaka
Rating: PG
Pairing: Galahad/Mariette, implied Gawain/Tristan
Feedback: Good lines, bad ones, etc.
Disclaimer: Ideas originated with the movie, not me.
Summary: Galahad has under-appreciated skills.


Galahad pressed his hand to the side of his head. The printouts weren’t making sense, he couldn’t remember what programming language he’d used anyway, and somehow he and Mariette were fighting over her work schedule. She didn’t like it and it was his fault? “Look, if it’s such a big deal, I’ll call Gawain and see if he’s free. Probably is—Tristan’s got another week till he’s not nocturnal. Or I’ll see if Jack’s making any progress with Jess.”

“Mais ce n’est pas le point! Ah, merde, je ne sais—je suis si dans la merde, et—”

“And if you’re that busy, then it’s okay. I’ll come over tomorrow.” God, talk about discouraging him from ever trying to get together time again. “Jesus Christ, what’s the deal? You’ve canceled on me before and it’s not like I died or anything…fuck. I meant yeah, I was disappointed, but—oh, fuck.”

He glanced up, expecting to see Mariette ready to rip him a new one over not caring about her, but instead she was staring at him like he was an alien.


“You…you just understood what I said. But you don’t speak French!” Mariette sat down hard in the chair across from him. The papers she was holding snapped up hard, then settled back down.

Galahad…just barely kept himself from rolling his eyes. His other initial reaction was to have a nervous breakdown, but then his work wouldn’t get done. “Mariette, how long have we been dating? I picked it up.”

“Why?” She looked really stunned.

Why? Why was this even a question? It made perfect sense to him. “Because you speak French. A lot. In my old neighborhood, you couldn’t get electricity without speaking Spanish, so I learned Sp—”

She lunged at him. He lost hold of his printouts and they went everywhere, but at least he knew where his tongue was. And what it was doing, and…okay. He made a note to himself that commonsense apparently turned Mariette on.

They separated several long, sucking, hot seconds later. Mariette was halfway onto Galahad’s lap by that point; she brushed her hand down Galahad’s face and he turned into it, his headache getting a bit better.

“Screw my seminar. Come over, please.”

“Merci, mais tu ne doit pas faire ça,” Galahad snorted. “You’ll be cranky as hell. Really, just get it done and brag to me about it tomorrow, okay? You’ll feel better.”

After a moment, she nodded. Her hand tightened on his shoulder, but before he could do anything, she slid down and put her head on his shoulder. “I know. But I can take a nap now, I think…five minutes?”

Well, he had to get his work done, too, but…Galahad rolled his eyes at himself and nodded. And it was way longer than five minutes before he woke her up again.