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Author: Guede Mazaka
Rating: PG
Pairing: Mentioned Gawain/Tristan.
Feedback: Good lines, bad ones, etc.
Disclaimer: Ideas originated with the movie, not me.
Summary: Galahad doesn’t know his kitchenware that well. Or maybe it’s the hang-over.
***
Galahad walked into the kitchen with his eyes closed, put water and coffee into the coffeemaker, and then went over to the table to collapse. A second later, he jerked up his head and stared wildly at an amused Gawain. “What the hell is that? When did we get it?”
Gawain’s amusement began to fade in favor of exasperation. “It’s a blender.” He took off the top and picked up the banana and yoghurt container next to him. “See, you dump in fruit and this, add some honey, and you can make a nice breakfast fast. Which you need, given your habit of barely waking up in time.”
“It’s not a habit—it’s an art,” Galahad muttered. He squinted at the blender as if it might leap up and attack him. “What about my other question?”
“Tristan brought it over. Somebody in his group is moving and was selling off their stuff, and he remembered I wanted one of these.” The smoothie had turned a nice pale yellow color and Gawain couldn’t see any chunks floating around in it, so he figured it was done. He twisted the blender off its stand and poured out two cups, one of which he pushed at Galahad.
The other man slowly got up and came at the cup sideways, like he was stalking a dangerous animal. He finally picked it up and took a cautious sip. Then he took a bigger one. “Almost like we’re back in California. Have I mentioned how much I’m not enjoying the idea of fall?”
“A little frost isn’t going to kill you,” Gawain snorted.
Galahad looked dubious, but he finished his smoothie in record time. Apparently he wasn’t all that cautious about that anymore. “Hey. Wait. Tristan showed up after ten last night. So what did he do, carry this thing through the streets?”
“I guess. Why?” Gawain asked. “What? It can’t be any weirder than you coming home drunk and having to puke every ten feet.”
“Hey, that’s normal for college. I’m just surprised he didn’t shock some poor old lady to death with his shadow…or maybe he did, and we just don’t know.” As he spoke, Galahad dropped his voice to what he thought ‘creepy’ should sound like; Gawain rolled his eyes and Galahad laughed. He dropped the cup in the sink and headed for the bathroom.
A moment later, a slightly more embarrassed Galahad stuck his head into the hall and mumbled something. He flushed when Gawain asked him to repeat it louder. “Tell him I’ll help with the bail when they find the body,” he said.
Gawain threw a dishrag at Galahad, then subsided to grin to himself. It was pretty damn close to a vow of eternal gratitude for Galahad. Not bad how far they had come in eight months.
***