Forget Me Not

[Guinevère]

She shook her head slowly, as if in disbelieve at the cheeky little grin, but she also loved it. It was one of her favorites. The overly noble, and playful arrogance that he put off at times. It made her heart skip a little beat, before she decided to let the topic (even playful as it was) go for the moment. When she was well enough to fuss, she would make her own point.

He was dressing for their date? "Oh really?" She questioned while watching him. "Do you want to model some of your clothing then? So I can best help you pick?" She teased but then grew serious. "Pick something casual. Something your just comfortable in." Something blue, she hoped. To match the blue of his eyes she loved so much. Maybe she could even talk him into wearing no shoes for the day, for they had no were to do.

She knew that by encouraging these things she was imaging how the lowerclass spent days together. Dressed down, casually just talking while working. Did nobles do this? Did they ever relax and just be who they were? She didn't ever recall Morgana just dressing down to laze about.

[Arthur Pendragon]

Arthur grinned when she asked if he wanted to model his clothing. He knew he could be vain about the way he dressed, but as a prince -- and now king -- it was expected of him to dress well and proper. "I think I may have to surprise you with this one," he told her over dramatically. He really wasn't a big deal and at the same time, he didn't want to just throw on any shirt. Besides, hadn't he been anal about the way his hair was when he was waiting for her at the picnic site? One of the many examples he was sure, about how he wanted to look well put together for her. He did take her advice though; something casual and comfortable. So probably not a jacket, unless he was going outside. Something a bit loose. Something that he could just lounge around in. The thought alone was difficult enough to adjust to.

Even though he did not fully have his memory back . . . he doubted there had been a day in the past three years that he had ever just lounged around the entire day. He finally decided on a shirt; one of a blue color, one he did not wear many times. He pulled it out, as well as pulling out a clean pair of pants, and of course, his belt. "The most important decision has been made," he announced, continuing on with his over dramatization of his selection of clothing. With that, he made his way to the now infamous changing board, wondering if he could ever look at it without smiling for every time he saw it, he would think back on that little moment the two shared behind it.

[Guinevère]

Guinevère watched him as he pulled a blue shirt out and she bit her bottom lip to keep from grinning like she wanted to. She had hoped he would pick blue and he seemed to pick the bluest shirt he owned. She kept watching as he pulled out pants and a belt. When he went to walk to the screen she called out after him, repeating his earlier words.

"Do you need help with that?" A tease but one she knew she would not mind helping with. however she also did not get up to assist him knowing that they had pushed their self control far this . . . morning? . . . late morning maybe but still morning she would guess. After a few moments of him being back behind the screen a knock came, and her found her self standing. She knew it just might be someone with her things but she could not moved to open the door; even after Sir Truan's voice came though it addressing his KING to let him know who was on the other side.

[Arthur Pendragon]

"Do you need help with that?" There were so many ways to answer that question. Though she could not see him, he smiled anyway. "Only if I fall," he told her kiddingly as he began to remove his pants and shirt, draping them over the board so that they would not be tossed on the ground. Mostly because, he knew Guinevère would be the one to pick them up and he did not want her to do any work today; he would do as much as he could if it meant that she did not. He put on his pants, and when his shirt was over his head, he heard a knock at the door. Arthur quickly pulled it down, waiting to hear the person identify themselves and it did not take long for it to be recognized as Sir Truan. He must have the things he had sent for.

He adjusted his shirt a bit so that it was straight, not yet having time to put on the belt. Instead, he made his way to the door and opened it to see the knight holding out her sewing materials as well as a hard covered book. Arthur thanked him and closed the door once again as he turned to walk towards Guinevère, setting the things down on the table right in front of her. "I hope that was everything," he both stated and questioned, making sure that nothing she needed was left behind.

[Guinevère]

When he brought over everything to the able, she felt her self relax and slowly sit back down. Not even looking at what he set on the table she told him a relived, "Yes, that is everything." While looking up at him. He looked . . . un-king like in his loose shirt, and nothing fancy on--yet at the same time it was there in the look on his face, and in the set of his chin. Her fingers reached up to trace his jaw line, and then drop to her lap. She loved his jawline, for she always saw the sharp edge of it from a few inches below him. It was very manly.

"Sit with me a few moments." She asked of him, since the other chair was just a few feet in front of her. She didn't want him going back for his belt or shoes. She wondered when the last time he had shaved was, and if that was something Merlin did or if Arthur was too afraid to let him near his neck with a blade. Would he let her watch him?

[Arthur Pendragon]

Was it everything? Or was she just saying that? Arthur did not question it for he suddenly became distracted by her soft hand, her fingers tracing the side of his face. He just looked at her intently, a very faint yet affectionate smile on his lips. He truly loved the casualness of all this. How easy it now was for her to just reach her hand up and touch him where as before, he knew she'd dare not to that, and it was all that he longed for. Even when she kissed him, something that was done with so much ease now . . . it had never been that way before. Each kiss had been feared to be their last, but now, she granted him with such pleasure so frequently, and he would never grow tired of it. When her hand fell back onto her lap, she offered him a seat in the chair across from her.

He was not quite finished getting dressed and knew he would not feel fully put together if he did not finish. At the same time, he did not want to deny her request, so he easily accepted it and pulled the chair a little closer to her as he took a seat on it. He leaned forward so that he could hold her hand in his and it would not be an act that would put either of them in a strained position. "Are you going to teach me how to sew?" He asked jokingly, knowing that there was no chance in hell he would ever be able to do so. Pulling a needle with thread through fabric to make something wearable sounded far too complicated.

[Guinevère]

"Are you going to teach me how to sew?" He asked as he took her hand, in his and she laughed softly, "No!" she said in a tone to match his. "I would hate it if you turned out to be good." She was teasing him of course, but at the same time she meant it. She doubted he would enjoy the simplistic, relaxing parts she loved about it; as he would need something more energetic to do. "Besides, it is the wife's job to sew; and the not the husbands."

She could easily talk about his as her husband, and as her king; talking about her as his wife was just as wonderful and easy. Talking about her as his queen was imitating and made her feel dizzy even if she was just sitting. This was one of the first times they had just sit and joked, or references their future like this but she knew that since they both seemed to enjoy it that it would not be the last. "I have some extra fabric here. I could make you something." She offered, wondering if he would even like the color.

She reached over to pick up some of the fabric. Arthur wore allot of blues and allot of allot reds, and even white at times; however she'd never seen him wear this color. At least no only this color. He's worn a few items that were of the same shade but never a whole shirt. Some did not wear this color, for it wasn't a good color to wear often, but she thought that a casual shirt would do no harm. Besides, the dark midnight black of the fabric would of set his light skin, like white did to her.

[Arthur Pendragon]

Just as she doubted he would be good at it, he too shared that doubt. He would probably lack the patience to sit there ,and sew in stitch after stitch. He imagined there would be a lot of poking his fingers and small drops of blood in the process so it was probably best he leave it to the expert. "Oh I don't think you will have to worry about that Guinevère," he told her rather honestly. He could boast about many things, but he would not brag about possessing skills that he did not have. Especially to someone who was an expert seamstress. "Besides, it is the wife's job to sew; and the not the husbands." Arthur could not help but smile upon hearing that, more specifically the words wife and husband. It was so . . . wonderful to think of themselves in such terms. That one day, she would be by his side, not only as a queen, but as is wife. As a mother to his children. As the woman that he loved, and everyone would know it.

"I like the sound of that," he told her, speaking aloud some of his thoughts regarding the subject of marriage; of marital terms that they could one day use to refer to one another with. He watched her when she reached for the fabric, offering to make him a shirt. There had been times when he'd asked her mend his clothing, but she had never made him one before -- as far as he remembered anyway. It would be something he would cherish, more so than any other article of clothing. For she would be making it not to be paid, but for him; and the sentimental value it would have would be priceless. "I would love that," he told her honestly, smiling at how much that one shirt would mean to him; how much her efforts in making it meant to him. "But not until you feel completely better," he told her. He took the cloth from her and just set it back on the table. Whether she had the strength to sew or not, he was not going to make demands upon her any time soon.

[Guinevère]

He took the fabric from her and put it on the table, and Guinevère reached over to pick it right back up. "I can't breath, not can't move." She teased him, "Sewing is something I can do sitting down and relaxing." She picked up a string that was in the little sewing and looked over at him, giving the hand that was in her's a tug so he would know that she wanted him to stand.

"Just let me measure you, and then we can both sit down for as long as you'd like." She promised, wanting to do this for him. Standing before him she smiled down at him, "While I measure you; you can tell me what you'll be doing this afternoon." She hoped that it would be something relaxing rather then something that would add stress to him. Though she knew how to relax him, as she had one given him massage.

[Arthur Pendragon]

Arthur did not want her to start planning a shirt for him. But if she insisted that this was something relaxing for him, then how could he object? He looked up at her, reluctant to stand up, even after feeling her tug at his hand, insisting that he stand so that she could measure him. Defeated, he stood on his feet knowing that the less he argued about this, the sooner she would sit and relax her body and mind. "As you wish," he told her smiling. What was he doing this afternoon? Just spending it with her. He may have some work, but he would put it aside for he felt that after everything that had happened, both of them truly deserved to have a day to themselves.

One where they weren't running around trying to catch a sorcerer, or trying to understand the nature of their relationship and extent of their feelings for one another -- which is what they had been doing the day before yesterday. And then of course yesterday, they had not been in each other's company for the entirety of the day. "Well first, I must finish getting ready for my very important date with an exquisite woman," he explained to her in a tone that suggested this was a new piece of information. He could not exactly wander around with his shirt just hanging off of him and in his socks, without his boots covering them. He felt . . . disorganized, and that the same time, it gave him an odd sort of comfort and relaxed feeling, as if he had no where to run off to; as if he needn't be prepared for anything. He had never quite experienced that ease before and it was a nice change indeed.

[Guinevère]

When he stood she smiled at smile, glad that he was not going to make her sit. While she still felt tired, and still winded easliy she did not want to sit there and do nothing all day. She had never done nothing all day in her life. The closest she had ever come was her few days in Gaius' chambers.

She took a step closer to him (more so then needed) before wrapping her arms around him so she could get the strong around his chest. "Hmmmmm," She said, as if thinking about his chest measurements, and then letting the string slide lower around his belly part so she could see that measurement. It wasn't needed, but she liked touching him. "mmmmHmmmmm," She added again, pretending to be thinking about the measurements she was reading.

"Hold out your arms," She told him, and waited for him to do so. Then the ran her string along one of his arms, over his chest and to the wrist of his other arm. "mmmmmmmhhhhhh" She muttered again, in a more teasing tone, as if she was about to loose the battle to not laugh. When she was done, she reached up to hold onto his laples and streach up on her toes for a kiss. "Your a seamtress' dream to sew for."

[Arthur Pendragon]

Arthur could not help but smile the moment she had put her arms around him. Maybe this whole measuring bit wouldn't be as bad as he thought. Had it been anyone else, he would have grown impatient and told them to hurry up . . . but it was her. She could take as long as she needed to for he knew he would enjoy every second of it. He watched her carefully as the measuring tape moved from around his chest, to his stomach, and then to his arms after he obliged by holding them out so that she could get better measurements. He did not miss the tease in her tone, but he loved it. He loved the playfulness of this whole procedure where as some time ago, it could have very well made them both feel awkward. Was it strange to be enjoying something as simple as getting measurements? Surely not; not when she was getting them.

He would have been disappointed when she was done, but instead, his smile only grew when she reached up to kiss him, speaking before hand. "I am glad she approves," he said in a low voice before lowering his head to meet her half way. He wrapped his arms around her, losing himself in the kiss just as he always did. He pulled away slightly though keeping very close to her as he was not quite ready to let go or end it. "That is most certainly the best reward from my seamstress," he said jokingly. Well, sort of jokingly. It was better than the shirt itself really. "But, you may have to take my measurements again, just to double check they're right," he teased before leaning forward for another kiss.

[Guinevère]

She laughed softly when he called her kiss a reward, and then claimed she might want to double check. "Maybe tonight." She told him, giving a hint to what might come. While they had somehow silently agreed that they would wait until they were married until . . . experiencing things again; there was something about just getting him fully back, and spending the whole day together that just made it seem like . . . . .

She didn't know the words to explain it, even in her head. besides, he was kissing her again and she often did not have words to think of when kissing him. When she pulled away, needed to be able to breath; she smiled up at him and then stepped back to sit down. She had to take a few deep breathes before she could speak.

When she did, she could not bring her self to look at him, nor keep her cheeks for blushing, "Besides, I am sure you will need some pants to match it." Maybe she wasn't quite that bold, to so openly tease him with words, but she could not help but to say them.

[Arthur Pendragon]

"Maybe tonight." Hearing these words filled him with a strong anticipation. Every time they had made love before, it had been something unplanned; something that the heat of the moment created. But to actually have an entire day . . . and night planned, was something that neither of them had really done before. At the same time, he wondered how strong her physical heath would be. He could tell that even kissing her made her short of breath, and he certainly did not want to take that to the next level if she truly was not feeling up to it. Her sitting down after their kiss ended confirmed these thoughts that perhaps, just perhaps she needed to rest tonight rather than . . . well, rather than what both of them were currently thinking about right now. He was unable to suppress a chuckle when she went on to say that he needed pants to match. Yes. They were both most definitely thinking of the same thing when it came to how they would be spending their night together.

But . . . he did not want to push her, not if she was feeling unwell. He crouched down in front of her, so that he could look right up into her eyes. What made her words sweeter was the way her cheeks blushed when she said them, and the way her eyes averted his gaze out of modesty. He put his hands onto hers which were placed on her lap. "If my seamstress is not feeling up to it, maybe those measurements can wait," he suggested. He did not want to reject the offer -- what sane man would do such a thing?! -- but as previously decided, he did not want to push her, so chose the words carefully, knowing she'd be aware of what he was trying to say. And hoping they had not come out the wrong way. He also knew that when it came to her, he did not have a great deal of self control. He was weak in that sense . . . and this was proved in how their previous times had been initiated.

[Guinevère]

She looked over when he bent down near her and forced her self to look into his eyes. She found her self smiling at his offer, and knew that while she did grew winded easily that she was feeling stronger by the moment. Between her body working to right it's self and Gaius' helpful medicine she was breathing easier. She had high hopes that by tonight she would be almost normally.

She wanted today to be perfect and she would do everything in her power to make it so. "She's feeling better by the moment." She told him, then was honest with him; "I promise Arthur, I will tell you the moment I feel weak. I am just glad to be alive, and I don't want to wast a moment.. . . . And I want them moments to be with you."

[Arthur Pendragon]

While Arthur was glad she was feeling better as each moment passed, he was even more relieved to hear that she told him she'd inform him if she was at all feeling weak. And then of course, no emotion could describe how he felt when she told him she was glad to be alive. Relief was an understatement . . . joy was an understatement . . . there was really no word to describe the feelings he had described when he saw her eyes open. To see her alive; to have seen her find her way back to him. His eyes fell to her hands. "As am I," he said in a soft voice, not wanting to bring the mood too down, but he could not withhold expressing even a fragment of his relief. He then slowly looked back at her, giving a more reassuring smile as they made plans for today, or more specifically, tonight.

"Nothing would make me happier then to spend every moment with you," he told her truthfully. If she said she would be alright, and that she would let him know if she was not, then he was not going to keep objecting to tonight. He wanted to tell her, and show her how much he loved her . . . how much she meant to him. He leaned forward to kiss her hands before looking into her beautiful eyes once again. "I love you Guinevère. More than I can ever say. More than I can ever express." He could not say that enough times. How did three words hold all the emotions he had towards her? It was impossible, and yet . . . that was the best he could say.

[Guinevère]

Guinevère knew that if he kept this up she'd end up crying and then she WOULD be short of breath and tired; yet she loved hearing the words. "I feel the same." She told him softly, knowing that it had not been love at first sight with them, but more a slow burning and growing emotional affair. While passion was apart of their relationship it was not the founding part.

They had started off as nothing to each other; to slowly grow until they were each others world. It had taken years, and allot of tears, and heartbreak to get to these casual moments. It made each of them special. "Even when your arrogant." She teased, to help keep the moment light. She didn't want to ruin the moment but she didn't want him thinking about what he almost lost, only what they were gaining. A life together.

[Arthur Pendragon]

"Even when your arrogant." Arthur smirked a bit, knowing that she was continuing in try to keep the mood light and he would do whatever to encourage that. Neither of them had the energy to speak of dramatics and all the stress that the past few days have caused them. Today was about them; about the playfulness that they were creating; about speaking with optimistic and positiveness in just about every subject. Granted, Guinevère was a great deal better at that then he could ever be . . . but he had learned more easily how to focus on the good more than the bad. And he knew it was because of her, that he tended to find the good in just about everything. "I'm not that arrogant," he retorted, in a tone that contradicted his words.

He moved back a bit so that he could sit on the chair and look at her from across it rather than looking up at her. "Just, confident," he corrected, just fooling around with the whole notion. He knew he had his fair share of arrogant moments, but he also knew that she did not believe he was as much of a bully as she said she initially had. She had gotten to know him in ways no one else did . . . for he had opened his most vulnerable self to her, and she had seen the man he was inside, not only what was on the surface. That was precisely why he knew he could get away with jokes such as these, without causing offense or real disapproval.

[Guinevère]

She laughed when he told her that he was not that arrogant. She knew that he wasn't, not any more. He used to be the type that would brag about how amazing he was, and expected everyone else to think he was wonderful too. He flirted with every pretty lady, and had a posse of other immature knights that followed his every step and clung to his every word.

Now he was the type of man whom everyone looked up too, and respected. The type who fought for others and what he knew was right. He no longer carried frogs in his pants. . . .

"Then I love you even when your being vocally confidant." She teased, knowing he didn't do it often. "And even when you 'play' with Merlin and give him too much to do. . . . which might be the only flaw you have left.' She teased him, knowing that while he was not really flawless, that she loved his flaws. "Well . . . that and you still snore."

[Arthur Pendragon]

Vocally confident. Arthur liked the way she phrased that. He knew he showed off every now and then, mostly on the training field when he fought the men blind folded, or trained them tirelessly. But really, there was a reason Camelot's army was filled with the greatest men . . . not only in character, but also in skill. So he could not go easy on them. But of course, he knew that this was all in good humor. For if she truly objected to his ways, she would not be smiling or laughing right now. He relied on her honesty and it was what had initially captivated him; it was what drew him to her and made her see someone who was more than just a servant in the background. "Merlin can handle it," Arthur commented nonchalantly. He also knew that she was one of the few people who even somewhat understood the nature of his and Merlin's friendship. It was something extremely deep and something that never showed on the surface.

"Well . . . that and you still snore." Arthur looked shocked at the accusation, still in denial that he snored so loudly. What was it she compared him to? A boar? A pig?! "I do not snore," he argued in a stubborn tone, exaggerating the offense he felt upon hearing such words, enunciating each word for the added effect. "I doubt you heard even the smallest noise coming from me when we lay asleep, next to each other," he continued with a tone of denial, not about to give in and accept that he snored so loudly. He knew she was just teasing, but . . . he was going to reject the very notion of it. "And I most certainly do not sound like, what was it you compared me to once?" He remembered -- oddly enough -- he just wanted to see if she would repeat it.