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Merlin - Help a Girl Out?
Written for the February Free-for-All huge Prompt Thingy over at ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
camelot_fleet. So many ideas from that thing. Oh, so many ideas.
Anyway, here's the first of what might be a couple of short fics inspired by that awesomeness.
Title: Help a Girl Out?
Rating: PG
Genre: pre-slash, Freya/Vivian
Length: ~ 2,280 words
Spoilers: 2.09 (Lady of the Lake) and 2.10 (Sweet Dreams)
Prompt: #106 – Freya/Vivian (does this need a prompt? I don’t care how you make it work, AU, canon, whatever)
Disclaimer: I do not own this interpretation of the myths and am making no profit from this.
Edit: Forgot to mention it is a Modern AU. Sorry!
~~~~~~~~~~
Freya was trying very hard not to lose her temper with her latest customer. Her usual reminder that she was only a lowly shop girl waiting on the ridiculously rich until she graduated from uni just was not working this time.
“You, girl, come here!” the annoying blonde called. Her hair was perfectly curled and styled, her nails perfectly manicured with something that looked oddly sparkly, and she wore a diamond-studded letter “V” on a delicate chain around her neck that only served to emphasize just how plunging the neckline on her blouse was. That was the only thing going for her as far as Freya was concerned. At least she had some eye candy to look at while she was belittled and demeaned.
Dutiful as ever, she plastered on a what she knew to be a fake looking smile and approached the thing, silently promising herself that she would make no comments about Barbie dolls or breasts. “How may I help you, Miss...?”
“Just call me Vivian,” the blonde cut her off with a wave of her hand. “I know all you sales people like to feel personally connected to your customers even if you could never truly comprehend our lives,” she added as she walked over to a rack. Walk was being generous, teetered would be more accurate, though Freya doubted she would ever be able to walk in heels that high without killing herself, so she grudgingly gave her credit for trying.
At least she had been willing to until she saw what the newly named Vivian had done with her display. There was clothing everywhere, jumpers tossed over mannequins and trousers tucked into the display belts in an odd mishmash of horror. It would take her hours to fix everything, and that was if she was lucky enough for the precariously balanced iced frothy latte thingy didn’t spill and ruin the fabric outright. “Miss?” she asked, knowing it came out as more of a yelp.
“I know, nothing is working,” Vivian said with a dramatic sigh. She picked up her drink and three little droplets fell thankfully only to the floor. She took the tiniest of sips, leaving remarkably red lipstick on the straw, before she explained, “I’m trying to put together some outfits for this charity event I’m going to this weekend and just nothing is working. Everything is either too dressy or too chav and I just can’t get it right. Help a girl out?”
Freya ignored the batted eyes as far too phoney, and mused on the fact the only charity event she knew of this weekend was the launch of an outreach group to the poor. A bunch of socialites and socialite wannabes were going to open a new shelter and serve food and there were rumours of classes on how to interview and job seek. It was a surprisingly decent endeavour and one she had found no fault with when she read about it yesterday morning.
The question now was Miss Vivian doing it out of the goodness of her heart, for the publicity, or because her father was making her?
Instead of voicing that concern, Freya asked, “What did you need me to do?” She should have been warned by the incredibly frightening grin she received in return that this was not going to go well.
Apparently she was pretty much exactly the same size as Miss Vivian. Well, the same when you removed the stiletto heels. Apparently Miss Vivian did not have very many dolls when she was young. Or, perhaps she had too many. Freya was not sure, all she knew was this was a Bad Idea.
Miss Vivian did not want to muss her hair and make up by trying the clothing on herself as she had a potential photo op that evening that she planned on going to directly from the shop to try to make it look accidental. Miss Vivian did not like the way the clothing looked on the mannequins. Miss Vivian wanted to play dress up.
Freya tried to appeal to her manager as he walked by, but Silas would have none of it. He was all about keeping the rich happy as it kept his pocketbook happy. He told her to do whatever she needed to do to both make the sale and keep the customer from flaming them in the tabloids.
About an hour and eleven outfit changes later, Miss Vivian insisted she drop the “Miss” part and just call her Vivian. Considering Freya was contemplating scratching the woman’s eyes out, she agreed simply to make things hopefully go faster.
About an hour and a half into the ordeal, Vivian had given up any pretence of personal space. She was also distracted by what she called “the shiny” around Freya’s neck that was now fully visible due to the remarkably low cut of the current slip dress she had tried on.
The sparkly fingernails brushed against her breastbone as Vivian picked up the pendant to bring it closer to eye level. Her thumb traced the three branches of the triquerta as she commented, “Excellent craftsmanship.”
“It was my grandmother’s,” Freya told her. “It’s all I have left of her.” She had no idea why she would share such a thing other than to stress it was hers and she would very much like to keep it that way, if you please.
Vivian offered her a frown that actually looked real and let go of the pendant, giving it one last pat before she took her hand away completely. Freya really tried to ignore the way she accidentally brushed more than just her breastbone in the process. “Got any other shinies?” Vivian asked as if they were best mates or something.
“Er, just my class ring, I’m afraid,” she replied, holding up the offending item. She would not have even had that, but it had appeared mysteriously in the post one day. Given that at least two of her classmates had both less than subtly tried to figure out her ring size and both had worked extra hours at their own crap jobs for the month leading up to the arrival, she was rather sure just who had gifted her with it. She could not afford to repay them directly, not that they would have ever admitted it in the first place, so she just happened to make an extra batch of biscuits whenever Gwen and Merlin came over for a study session and keep their favourite tea on hand.
Vivian raised an eyebrow at the ring. “Now I know that college is not the easiest to get into,” she said appraisingly. With what Freya had come to know as her now usual bluntness, she added, “Nor is it the easiest to afford.” She held up her own ring with a matching crest but far more elaborate setting. Her blonde head cocked to the side, curls falling over one shoulder as she admitted, “My father pays my tuition, but I would imagine a shop girl’s salary doesn’t quite cut it.”
Freya refused to blush or be embarrassed at her lack of means. “The scholarships pay for most and the job pays for the rest,” she shrugged. She resolutely refused to think of her dingy single room flat, the fact she usually could not even afford the pieces in the clearance bin even with her discount, or the days she had gone with only a single meal until the next cheque came in.
That seemed to suffice, or possibly a breeze came by and blew the thought out of Vivian’s head, as she was off again, another hour’s work of trying on clothing before she was satisfied with five outfits for her weekend ordeal. Why she needed five, Freya could only guess. Maybe she thought the homeless would get her dirty or some other such nonsense.
Freya rang the sale and spent the rest of the night cleaning the dressing rooms and displays. She helped close up the shop and took the train home, marching up the steps to the flat with dreams of a simple cheese sandwich and a cup of tea dancing about her head. She almost wished for a kitten to curl up with, but could not afford the care and feeding quite yet, so settled for a book instead. She eyed the bottle of wine Gwen had “accidentally” left the last time she was over, but decided to do without for now. They could open it when they finished exams and had something to truly celebrate.
That night, she drifted off to sleep to images of ditzy blondes with too much lipstick sipping lattes and carrying little dollies around that looked far too much like her for her liking. In the morning, she washed the oddness from her mind and settled down to study.
She had thought that would be the end of it, but she should have known better. One week later, she worked the morning shift instead of the evening, and walked out of the shop to find an unfortunately familiar head of curls waiting for her just outside.
“Oh, good! There you are!” Vivian called, waving as if she could not be seen in her bright blue jacket against the pale white of the neighbouring storefront.
Freya actively tried not to sigh as she put on a smile and asked, “Can I help you with something?”
Vivian nodded her head, curls bouncing. “One of the outfits just looked horrid on me and did not work at all,” she complained.
“Well, I could see about returning or exchanging it for you,” Freya offered, reaching for the door.
Vivian blocked her way as she shook her head. “Unfortunately, I tore off all the tags and rubbished the receipt,” she pouted. “I’ve frequented here enough to know that means I’m stuck with it.”
Freya nodded in what she hoped appeared to be a consoling manner.
“But then I got to thinking,” Vivian said, back to her usual bouncy self. “It fit you, and looked good on you, and you would wear it whereas I would not.” She held out the bag and tried to push it into Freya’s resisting arms.
“I’m sorry, I can’t,” Freya said, truly at a loss.
The pout was back as Vivian replied, “You simply must. I won’t wear it, and you...”
Freya’s face flamed as she demanded, “Is this pity? Some sort of charity?”
“Oh no,” Vivian insisted with something that actually seemed like real emotion. “I had enough of that this weekend and saw people far worse off than you.” She paused as if musing on a thought before she continued, “Though it might explain my unusually giving mood today. I even tipped the delivery boy and I never do that. Anyway, no, I swear upon my family name that I am not doing this out of some misguided charity or compassion or anything like that. ”
Freya was not certain what to make of the offer so, after fumbling for words for a moment, she asked, “Are you sure?”
“Oh yes,” Vivian insisted, curls bouncing once more. “I could donate it to the centre, but no one there would know what to do with a dress like this whereas you would be able to wear it to work and school functions and all that.”
Freya was still not certain. The edge of the dress poked out of the bag and it was one she had fancied quite a lot and had planned to wait until it went on clearance in a few months to see if she could afford it. She bit her lip, which seemed to be all the capitulation Vivian needed.
The blonde pressed the bag forward so Freya would either have to hold it or let it drop to the ground and instinct won over, so she now held it safely in her hands. She was not sure what to say in thanks, and the first thing that came out of her mouth was, “Buy you one of those latte things you had the other day?” She knew she could afford that, far more than the dress that was apparently now hers.
Vivian smiled, wide and true. “See? I knew there was something I liked about you!” She hooked her arm through Freya’s and started guiding them down the street. They had only walked a few steps when she glanced down and noticed the book in Freya’s other hand. “Ooh, I hate that course!” she exclaimed.
Now Freya did openly blink, rude as she knew it was. “You’re in my psychology class?” she asked in surprise. She had brought the book with in an attempt to reread the assignment during her break.
Vivian either missed the action or brushed it aside. “I just don’t get it. I got the Freud stuff, who wouldn’t, but the latest chapter? With the Jungian concepts? So completely not my thing,” she pouted. She paused just outside the coffee shop entrance and turned to face Freya. The pout was back in full force as she batted her eyes and asked, “Help a girl out?”
Freya smiled despite herself, and earned a grin in return for her efforts, this one open and true once more. With a mental shake of her head, she could not help but think that there was a chance, small though it may be, that she could get used to Vivian and her ways.
When Vivian pressed a quick kiss to her cheek at her second capitulation in a matter of minutes, she knew it was likely a lost cause. Strange thing was, she did not think she minded.
~~~~~~~~~~
Feedback is always welcomed.
camelot_fleet. So many ideas from that thing. Oh, so many ideas.Anyway, here's the first of what might be a couple of short fics inspired by that awesomeness.
Title: Help a Girl Out?
Rating: PG
Genre: pre-slash, Freya/Vivian
Length: ~ 2,280 words
Spoilers: 2.09 (Lady of the Lake) and 2.10 (Sweet Dreams)
Prompt: #106 – Freya/Vivian (does this need a prompt? I don’t care how you make it work, AU, canon, whatever)
Disclaimer: I do not own this interpretation of the myths and am making no profit from this.
Edit: Forgot to mention it is a Modern AU. Sorry!
~~~~~~~~~~
Freya was trying very hard not to lose her temper with her latest customer. Her usual reminder that she was only a lowly shop girl waiting on the ridiculously rich until she graduated from uni just was not working this time.
“You, girl, come here!” the annoying blonde called. Her hair was perfectly curled and styled, her nails perfectly manicured with something that looked oddly sparkly, and she wore a diamond-studded letter “V” on a delicate chain around her neck that only served to emphasize just how plunging the neckline on her blouse was. That was the only thing going for her as far as Freya was concerned. At least she had some eye candy to look at while she was belittled and demeaned.
Dutiful as ever, she plastered on a what she knew to be a fake looking smile and approached the thing, silently promising herself that she would make no comments about Barbie dolls or breasts. “How may I help you, Miss...?”
“Just call me Vivian,” the blonde cut her off with a wave of her hand. “I know all you sales people like to feel personally connected to your customers even if you could never truly comprehend our lives,” she added as she walked over to a rack. Walk was being generous, teetered would be more accurate, though Freya doubted she would ever be able to walk in heels that high without killing herself, so she grudgingly gave her credit for trying.
At least she had been willing to until she saw what the newly named Vivian had done with her display. There was clothing everywhere, jumpers tossed over mannequins and trousers tucked into the display belts in an odd mishmash of horror. It would take her hours to fix everything, and that was if she was lucky enough for the precariously balanced iced frothy latte thingy didn’t spill and ruin the fabric outright. “Miss?” she asked, knowing it came out as more of a yelp.
“I know, nothing is working,” Vivian said with a dramatic sigh. She picked up her drink and three little droplets fell thankfully only to the floor. She took the tiniest of sips, leaving remarkably red lipstick on the straw, before she explained, “I’m trying to put together some outfits for this charity event I’m going to this weekend and just nothing is working. Everything is either too dressy or too chav and I just can’t get it right. Help a girl out?”
Freya ignored the batted eyes as far too phoney, and mused on the fact the only charity event she knew of this weekend was the launch of an outreach group to the poor. A bunch of socialites and socialite wannabes were going to open a new shelter and serve food and there were rumours of classes on how to interview and job seek. It was a surprisingly decent endeavour and one she had found no fault with when she read about it yesterday morning.
The question now was Miss Vivian doing it out of the goodness of her heart, for the publicity, or because her father was making her?
Instead of voicing that concern, Freya asked, “What did you need me to do?” She should have been warned by the incredibly frightening grin she received in return that this was not going to go well.
Apparently she was pretty much exactly the same size as Miss Vivian. Well, the same when you removed the stiletto heels. Apparently Miss Vivian did not have very many dolls when she was young. Or, perhaps she had too many. Freya was not sure, all she knew was this was a Bad Idea.
Miss Vivian did not want to muss her hair and make up by trying the clothing on herself as she had a potential photo op that evening that she planned on going to directly from the shop to try to make it look accidental. Miss Vivian did not like the way the clothing looked on the mannequins. Miss Vivian wanted to play dress up.
Freya tried to appeal to her manager as he walked by, but Silas would have none of it. He was all about keeping the rich happy as it kept his pocketbook happy. He told her to do whatever she needed to do to both make the sale and keep the customer from flaming them in the tabloids.
About an hour and eleven outfit changes later, Miss Vivian insisted she drop the “Miss” part and just call her Vivian. Considering Freya was contemplating scratching the woman’s eyes out, she agreed simply to make things hopefully go faster.
About an hour and a half into the ordeal, Vivian had given up any pretence of personal space. She was also distracted by what she called “the shiny” around Freya’s neck that was now fully visible due to the remarkably low cut of the current slip dress she had tried on.
The sparkly fingernails brushed against her breastbone as Vivian picked up the pendant to bring it closer to eye level. Her thumb traced the three branches of the triquerta as she commented, “Excellent craftsmanship.”
“It was my grandmother’s,” Freya told her. “It’s all I have left of her.” She had no idea why she would share such a thing other than to stress it was hers and she would very much like to keep it that way, if you please.
Vivian offered her a frown that actually looked real and let go of the pendant, giving it one last pat before she took her hand away completely. Freya really tried to ignore the way she accidentally brushed more than just her breastbone in the process. “Got any other shinies?” Vivian asked as if they were best mates or something.
“Er, just my class ring, I’m afraid,” she replied, holding up the offending item. She would not have even had that, but it had appeared mysteriously in the post one day. Given that at least two of her classmates had both less than subtly tried to figure out her ring size and both had worked extra hours at their own crap jobs for the month leading up to the arrival, she was rather sure just who had gifted her with it. She could not afford to repay them directly, not that they would have ever admitted it in the first place, so she just happened to make an extra batch of biscuits whenever Gwen and Merlin came over for a study session and keep their favourite tea on hand.
Vivian raised an eyebrow at the ring. “Now I know that college is not the easiest to get into,” she said appraisingly. With what Freya had come to know as her now usual bluntness, she added, “Nor is it the easiest to afford.” She held up her own ring with a matching crest but far more elaborate setting. Her blonde head cocked to the side, curls falling over one shoulder as she admitted, “My father pays my tuition, but I would imagine a shop girl’s salary doesn’t quite cut it.”
Freya refused to blush or be embarrassed at her lack of means. “The scholarships pay for most and the job pays for the rest,” she shrugged. She resolutely refused to think of her dingy single room flat, the fact she usually could not even afford the pieces in the clearance bin even with her discount, or the days she had gone with only a single meal until the next cheque came in.
That seemed to suffice, or possibly a breeze came by and blew the thought out of Vivian’s head, as she was off again, another hour’s work of trying on clothing before she was satisfied with five outfits for her weekend ordeal. Why she needed five, Freya could only guess. Maybe she thought the homeless would get her dirty or some other such nonsense.
Freya rang the sale and spent the rest of the night cleaning the dressing rooms and displays. She helped close up the shop and took the train home, marching up the steps to the flat with dreams of a simple cheese sandwich and a cup of tea dancing about her head. She almost wished for a kitten to curl up with, but could not afford the care and feeding quite yet, so settled for a book instead. She eyed the bottle of wine Gwen had “accidentally” left the last time she was over, but decided to do without for now. They could open it when they finished exams and had something to truly celebrate.
That night, she drifted off to sleep to images of ditzy blondes with too much lipstick sipping lattes and carrying little dollies around that looked far too much like her for her liking. In the morning, she washed the oddness from her mind and settled down to study.
She had thought that would be the end of it, but she should have known better. One week later, she worked the morning shift instead of the evening, and walked out of the shop to find an unfortunately familiar head of curls waiting for her just outside.
“Oh, good! There you are!” Vivian called, waving as if she could not be seen in her bright blue jacket against the pale white of the neighbouring storefront.
Freya actively tried not to sigh as she put on a smile and asked, “Can I help you with something?”
Vivian nodded her head, curls bouncing. “One of the outfits just looked horrid on me and did not work at all,” she complained.
“Well, I could see about returning or exchanging it for you,” Freya offered, reaching for the door.
Vivian blocked her way as she shook her head. “Unfortunately, I tore off all the tags and rubbished the receipt,” she pouted. “I’ve frequented here enough to know that means I’m stuck with it.”
Freya nodded in what she hoped appeared to be a consoling manner.
“But then I got to thinking,” Vivian said, back to her usual bouncy self. “It fit you, and looked good on you, and you would wear it whereas I would not.” She held out the bag and tried to push it into Freya’s resisting arms.
“I’m sorry, I can’t,” Freya said, truly at a loss.
The pout was back as Vivian replied, “You simply must. I won’t wear it, and you...”
Freya’s face flamed as she demanded, “Is this pity? Some sort of charity?”
“Oh no,” Vivian insisted with something that actually seemed like real emotion. “I had enough of that this weekend and saw people far worse off than you.” She paused as if musing on a thought before she continued, “Though it might explain my unusually giving mood today. I even tipped the delivery boy and I never do that. Anyway, no, I swear upon my family name that I am not doing this out of some misguided charity or compassion or anything like that. ”
Freya was not certain what to make of the offer so, after fumbling for words for a moment, she asked, “Are you sure?”
“Oh yes,” Vivian insisted, curls bouncing once more. “I could donate it to the centre, but no one there would know what to do with a dress like this whereas you would be able to wear it to work and school functions and all that.”
Freya was still not certain. The edge of the dress poked out of the bag and it was one she had fancied quite a lot and had planned to wait until it went on clearance in a few months to see if she could afford it. She bit her lip, which seemed to be all the capitulation Vivian needed.
The blonde pressed the bag forward so Freya would either have to hold it or let it drop to the ground and instinct won over, so she now held it safely in her hands. She was not sure what to say in thanks, and the first thing that came out of her mouth was, “Buy you one of those latte things you had the other day?” She knew she could afford that, far more than the dress that was apparently now hers.
Vivian smiled, wide and true. “See? I knew there was something I liked about you!” She hooked her arm through Freya’s and started guiding them down the street. They had only walked a few steps when she glanced down and noticed the book in Freya’s other hand. “Ooh, I hate that course!” she exclaimed.
Now Freya did openly blink, rude as she knew it was. “You’re in my psychology class?” she asked in surprise. She had brought the book with in an attempt to reread the assignment during her break.
Vivian either missed the action or brushed it aside. “I just don’t get it. I got the Freud stuff, who wouldn’t, but the latest chapter? With the Jungian concepts? So completely not my thing,” she pouted. She paused just outside the coffee shop entrance and turned to face Freya. The pout was back in full force as she batted her eyes and asked, “Help a girl out?”
Freya smiled despite herself, and earned a grin in return for her efforts, this one open and true once more. With a mental shake of her head, she could not help but think that there was a chance, small though it may be, that she could get used to Vivian and her ways.
When Vivian pressed a quick kiss to her cheek at her second capitulation in a matter of minutes, she knew it was likely a lost cause. Strange thing was, she did not think she minded.
~~~~~~~~~~
Feedback is always welcomed.
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(*koff* I might have really felt for Freya there, with the job and all. *hates on service industry*)
Someday we should all get together and write a giant modern Uni AU with all the secondary characters, and it would go exactly like this.
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As someone who worked retail throughout high school and most of college, totally agree with both the feeling for the poor souls who work in service jobs, and for the Uni AU. Gods, that would be fun!
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You rock for writing this. ♥
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This was so sweet and fun and a little bit silly and I love that you tied them back in with the regular Merlin cast through Freya and, just, EXCELLENT.
♥
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