Tangible Schizophrenia



Author: Guede Mazaka
Rating: R
Pairing: Arthur/Guinevere/Lancelot
Feedback: Good lines, bad ones, etc.
Disclaimer: Ideas originated with the movie, not me.
Summary: Two ficlets. The little weirdnesses of everyday life.


The phone rang. It startled Arthur and he jerked his hand, catching it in Guinevere’s bra. He hastily untangled himself and began to step away. “Damn. Sorry.”

And a hand latched onto his arse and yanked him back. Guinevere’s other hand snatched the phone from the table. “Where do you think you’re going?” she whispered, arching an eyebrow. Her fingers rippled their way up his buttock to hook into his waistband, and when she put the phone by her mouth, she was smirking. “Hello?”

Arthur’s initial reaction was to blush and stammer a protest, but something about the smug quirk of her lips touched a nerve. Well, in that case…he dropped to his knees and nuzzled his way up her skirt. She wasn’t wearing underwear today, which made it convenient to twist his tongue directly into her.

“Oh—yes! Yes! I mean—I’ll have them—oh…tomorrow? Tomorrow’s all right?” She was trying to clutch at his head through the skirt fabric, scratching first one way in encouragement and then the opposite in frantic discouragement. He ignored both and took his time about it. Perhaps it’d stop her from attacking him during conference calls…

* * *

It was five in the morning and someone was soft-stepping it around the bedroom. Couldn’t be Guin, since she was in Paris till Wednesday, and Arthur was firmly tucked against Lancelot, so…Lancelot slid his hand under the pillow to the gun strapped beneath the headboard. Where another hand caught his wrist.

He must’ve startled and made a noise, for the footsteps stopped. Everything was thin-stretched silence until Arthur cracked open an eye. “’s Tristan.” He let go of Lancelot and sat up, blinking at the dark. “What?”

Oh, great. Tristan. Creepy know-it-all who shared some secret language with Arthur, because all Tristan said was, “Backchecking,” and Arthur hmm’ed in a way that meant later he’d be casually asking for Interpol files. What he needed to do to fend off his past was all well and good and Lancelot had no problem with that, but someday Arthur had better sit down and spell it out. If only so Lancelot didn’t accidentally shoot Tristan.

Tristan wandered out of the room, graciously shutting the door. Arthur started to get up, but he paused when Lancelot tightened his grip on his waist. “I have that paper I wanted to finish editing…”

So he was getting up early for that? “Should’ve known better than to date an early-riser,” Lancelot grumbled, curling around Arthur. He bumped about till he found Arthur’s hip, licked up it and forced the other man down. Bit at a nipple when Arthur tried to push him off and grinned at the resulting groan. “Fine, edit the paper, but first apologize for waking me up at this unholy hour.”