Tangible Schizophrenia


Post-It: Daylilies

Author: Guede Mazaka
Rating: PG
Pairing: Arthur/Guinevere/Lancelot
Feedback: Good lines, bad ones, etc.
Disclaimer: Ideas originated with the movie, not me.
Summary: Lancelot—drop off the suits for dry-cleaning.


Guinevere stopped whisking the vinaigrette for dinner’s salad and cocked her head. She heard the front door open and Lancelot’s cocky whistle bound up the stairs. Creaking hinges signaled the door’s backswing; she was putting down the whisk to go relock it when someone stopped it.

A moment later, Arthur wandered into the kitchen and set his briefcase on the counter. His tie was hanging unknotted and grass stains on his knees and shirtsleeves accentuated the dazed look in his eyes. He folded his jacket over a chair—more grass stains on it, Guinevere was amused to see—and began to pick crumpled petals from his hair. “Lancelot…ah…met me while I was cutting through the dean’s garden. We had a spirited discussion.”

“And then you had sex in the flowers,” Guinevere noted.

“Ah, well, yes—” Arthur abruptly threw up his hands at it all and went straight for tea. “How does he do that? I don’t even remember how…”

She shrugged and nudged the sugar bowl over to him. Reaching to retrieve it would put him perfectly in line with the glistening table-top, she calculated. “He does have an annoyingly effective pout. Drink up. I’m almost done with the dressing.”