thatsamilkshake | Room 407: Early Monday Afternoon

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Room 407: Early Monday Afternoon

Arthur's room had been empty, and Francine hadn't been especially surprised by that after getting through the entire crazy graduation ceremony more or less intact had left them hoping, then this morning had brought...this morning. Still, she was hoping the knock on the door to Merlin's would produce something besides silence. "They're not here either," she said, shifting the stack of covered dishes in her arms.

[OOC: Le room modded with permission, for the girl and then (eventually) the rest of the Clustre du Fucque. Warning for ... general Wrongness and some degree of NWS.]

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Katchoo had leaned in to put her ear against the door, to no avail, and shook her head. "Nope."

She, however, had no compunction about putting her hand on the doorknob, giving it a twist, and then nudging the door the rest of the way open with her foot. Hadn't been locked; that wasn't much of a surprise either.

And because she could cover the morning's events, the sight of the empty room, and the question of where the hell the guys were all in one succint little syllable: "Damn."

Francine was three seconds from losing the stack of dishes into a glorious mess of roast chicken and potatoes and chocolate cake that would make Merlin's carpet smell lovely but probably not improve anybody's mood, which was the point of the exercise, so she nudged the door open and went in to set the food down on Merlin's desk.

"Still 'hunting,' I guess." Now that her hands were free, she could do the air-quotes, though what they were air-quotes for, Francine had only the vaguest guess. She kind of assumed in this case that hunting meant stomping around the woods and punching trees. "I wish..." Sigh.

Which was what she'd be doing in the same situation; Katchoo moved over and reached out with both hands to take one of Francine's.

"I know, honey," she said quietly. As bad as she felt about the whole thing, she didn't want to let them go, either, and then there was feeling bad about that: it was a recipe tailor-made for a good brood.

"I wish I knew what to do for them," was what Francine settled on, squeezing Katchoo's hands with her own. It sounded less selfish than it was.

To distract herself, Francine glanced around at what was left of the room, with Merlin's possessions mostly stripped of it. "I wonder if he packed the Book," she muttered inanely. "If he didn't, he should. Not like I can't buy another."

"That book?" Katchoo latched onto the moment of amusement afforded by the mention and wrung the biggest (yet still halfhearted) snicker she could out of it. It was sort of like sopping up five drops of water with a Sham-Wow and trying to extract them.

Yeah.

And now that meant she was going to poke around the room in search of said book, under the bed and everything.

"Oh, hush - you haven't even seen That Book," Francine said, crouching to glance under the bed herself because she knew that was where it usually lived, but frowning when she rose and Katchoo was shutting a dresser drawer and heading towards the closet. ~~*mods shaelessly*~~ "For all you know it's a cookb-- Chewie!

"Francie, I can hear the capital letters when you mention it, practically," Katchoo retorted. "The Capital Letters of Shame, and -- what?"

Francine followed her over to the closet. "We can't just go poking around in Merlin's stuff!"

"Sure we can," Katchoo replied, seemingly not bothered at all by this, and really if you boiled it down to a matter of semantics there was a world of difference between how they couldn't, and how they shouldn't. And Francine hadn't addressed the propriety of it there, had she? So ha. "Not like there's much left at the moment anyway."

Plus it was something to do to keep from moping, and might kill a little time while waiting, and . . . yeah, just go with it. It was better than moping.

"Well, it's probably not in there." Please, Merlin keep something he now used for gay sex tips in an incredibly ironic location? What were the chances of that?

Edited 2010-05-03 19:20 (UTC)

There was a bit of a creaking of that door there, wasn't it?

'Hunting' was done with, and Arthur was headed for a room that wasn't his own for. Well. His own reasons. With some company.

He felt worn down and exhausted and desperately in need of something good, and so he gave the door a shove. "We're here."

"C'mon," Merlin said softly. "You can stay the night. I've still got blankets, after all."

That door was sloooowly opening.

Deer. Headlights. Frozen.

Don't ask why, since the food on the desk made a perfectly good reason for being here. Maybe, oh, because they both currently had their heads shoved in Merlin's closet?

Oh look, there went the arm-flail.

Blink. Blink. "Shit!"

Nothing for it now but for Katchoo to grab Francine by the scruff of the neck and, as if there hadn't been any irony at play before, drag them both into the closet and shut the door.

And the door was open, revealing a boy (with some forestal smudges on the back of his head and shirt) who looked a little wrecked, and another boy trailing behind him.

As soon as Merlin was in, Arthur shut the door.

And maybe boxed him in a bit. Against that door.

"Or we could not sleep at all," Merlin ventured.

Don't mind the girl currently scrunched up against the inside of the closet doors. Her heart was beating so loud in her ears that she couldn't hear anything anyway.

Or the one facepalming up a storm and muttering an invective-laden stream of complaints under her breath about TMI and stupid timing and many, many other things that were less relevant than, you know, the obscenity stringing it all together.

Nothing to mind here at all.

Unaware of anyone hidden in the closet, Arthur exhaled shallowly. And let his forehead fall against Merlin's, shutting his eyes for a second.

He hummed his assent, gripping the boy's hips tightly.

"Hey," Merlin replied quietly, bringing his hands up to run through Arthur's now insanely messy hair. They only caught twice! "Tell me--what you want."

Francine, ever slow on the uptake, was just getting to the point of hearing things that weren't happening inside her own skull. Which given proximity was mostly Chewie's under-breath bitching. She glared, which did no good at all in the almost complete darkness, then essayed a tiny, tiny Shh! while feeling around for Katchoo's arm.

Oh, fine, she could have the arm; Katchoo was going to just take the hand attached to the other arm and clamp it over her mouth -- whether to keep from swearing out loud or just laughing, she had no idea. Today had been ridiculous enough that it could go either way.

Though the way her shoulders were starting to shake it might be trending latter-ward.

There had been a lot of talking today.

Arthur kissed him, instead, nudging his legs apart with his knee. Proximity was a good thing: right here right now, something that wasn't some semblance of a desperate hell or purgatory or whatever the hell you called this place when you were better with poetry than Arthur was.

He let his knuckles graze along the skin just under Merlin's shirt. That was an answer, right?

A little bit of one. If you thought of it that way.

"Okay," Merlin replied, tugging up on Arthur's shirt before they could get back to kissing.

Francine frowned, unable to hear very much going on outside. Okay? Come on, say something else so I can tell if you guys are eating dinner or talking about trying again or... I don't know, maybe LEAVING so we can sneak out of here?

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