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Fic: The Law of Saturday... random snips

Title: The Law of Saturday
by Sebastian Blade

Note: I guess I really like to share my stories. These are just a few snips of stories, really more the start of the August and Anderson book/story... what have you. The very first snip might be a dream, or a past life experience. I could totally see Auggie as Arthur and Corey as the mystical Merlin. The links to the other stories is on the stories page, under August and Anderson :)

Love :)


First Snip

They stood together on the castle wall. The tall brunet, worn leather bracers on his arms, his hair drawn back into a careless ponytail, he leaned on the stone, staring out over lush green British hills. "You would get to be Merlin. Seriously. It's a real contest over whether you love me or the voices in your head more."

Merlin, an impish man with flame red hair streaked with gold by the light of the rising sun, freckles over his face, green eyes that hid nothing and everything, laughed. He bumped his shoulder against the king's and shyly touched his hand to the Great King's hand. "I wonder that myself, sometimes, my king, but the voices say that you are the meaning of the world, so does it matter really?"

Arthur's hand covered over Merlin's, sudden and engulfing. "The law seems so fragile. Camelot will fall after I'm gone."

Merlin laced his fingers between Arthur's, smiled at his lover. "I know."

The sun continued to climb. Kings and wizards both make mistakes. Arthur tightened his grip on Merlin's hand. "Tell me something good, Merlin. Tell me a better ending to the story."

"I will always love you and we will always come back. We will always be together."

"Are you always going to hear voices?"

"Are you always going to think the law can solve everything?"


"She's a dumb ass,"August Richards V growled. He sat in the cafeteria, arms across his chest, chin tucked, the gold in his chocolate eyes flickering as if it could burn someone up. "How can she be a professor of literature, but not be able to find my thesis?" He wore a white shirt, top button undone, a rich blue tie tugged loose. Dark brown hair lay around his face, fringed over his eyes. "I've been to boarding schools with smarter janitors."

Emily pointed her chopsticks at him. "Brat. You're not at boarding school now. This is where the big kids play." She picked up a bit of sushi, gave him a friendly smile.

"Don't worry about it, Auggie," Norris said. "Blake is a ponce. Everyone knows it. You'll pass, just go on with it and then you've got your literature credits done."

"I am not a bad writer,"August half whined. "Come on. You read my paper before I turned it in. It wasn't bad. She deleted my post too."

"Because you said her class was a lose/lose experience for you," Emily pointed out.

"That's how I feel about the class. She's suppressing my first amendment rights!"

His friends looked at him, a mixture of irritation and an expectation that he making a big deal out of nothing. "So take it up with your advisor." Emily picked up a bit of wasabi with her next roll.

And then the world ended.

August's eyes tracked the red head across the cafeteria. He wore jeans and a slightly too big tee-shirt, a backpack slung over one shoulder, and sandals of all things. Short trimmed hair was red. If it had been a car, it would have been an invitation to a speeding ticket. August sat up straighter, which made the blood all drop away from his head. "I had this dream last night, that I was King Arthur."

Norris laughed. "Was Gwen surprised that he had a dick?"

"No," August said, only half paying attention as he shoved his laptop into his messenger bag, "But I was in love with a red headed Merlin."

"Oh? Someone has a daddy complex?" Emily crushed up her sushi packaging.

"He wasn't old. He was the same age as me, and he looked exactly like him." August pointed to the slightly scruffy looking red head.

"Him? Damn, Auggie, you don't want him. He's broke, straight, Catholic, and a walking social working office. I won't be surprised if he had lice or something. They say he grew up at Saint Sarah's and he's still living there."

"If he's that broke, he's probably a cheap fuck," Norris pointed out. "He is kind of pretty, if you're into the skinny Irish types."

Emily looked back over her shoulder, dark eyes narrowing. "He's not living on French Fries. Someone should tell him the famine is over though."

"Why do I hang around with you assholes?'

Norris smirked. "Because you're more lawyer than undergrad and no one else will put up with your work alcoholic gay boy angst. I'll just go over there and tell him you like him."

"No," Auggie said, planning his own way to ask the red head out, but Norris was already up up and homing in on his prey. Auggie ran.

He'd never run before, but then... he'd never feel pulled towards someone like the world would bend in half and tip to get him there either. He didn't believe in Merlin, dreams, or even really love, but that left him without a vocabulary to explain anything he was feeling.


Bon arched an eyebrow and stared at his son. "Charity? We give to charity already."

The Richards family dining table had seats for twenty.

Bon Richards, US Senator, successful business man and heir of a substantial family fortune, successful lawyer, magna cum laude in history and law out of Harvard had two sons. His wife who was so utterly perfect that she would stand up to the most rigorous vetting process, should he ever get around to running for president. His younger son, Roman T. Richards would pass a vetting, had a 4.0 average, and had never been politely asked to leave from any schools. His older brother August Julian Richards V had a GPA like a broke full house, depending on the school. It was a benefit that he didn't have any sexually transmitted diseases. Bon lifted a spoonful of tomato bisque to his mouth, not moving his eyes from his older son, even a little.

August sat up straight, his mahogany hair neatly styled, golden hazel eyes calmly meeting his father's scrutiny. "Political ads on college campuses are very effective and show your strong community support."

Bon had the same chocolate and gold eyes, but with more lines and no fear at all of narrowing in an intimidating scowl. "When did you start caring about politics? You're at the state university, August. There is no where else for you to go."

With a sweet smile, body language communicating genuine humility and confidence at the same time. "My grades are fine. I'm not having any difficulties with any professors. I've simply developed an interest in track."

Bon's face went long, doubtful and unimpressed. "I've only seen you run during pranks, pranks that went badly."

Roman snickered.

"I'll supply the funds," August said, sipping his wine, poker face on. "But I want it to be your best, most inclusive advertisement, with the whole family on it."

"It's not a matter of money. It's a matter of motive," Bon protested. "I know you well enough, Auggie, that I do not commit funds nor effort to your endeavors without fully understanding your motives and goals. It's bad for your mother's hopes to be first lady."

"Mother doesn't want to be first lady," August pointed out. "I simply wish to introduce myself, in the most positive light, to a socially liberal and active classmate. You do wish me to cultivate more acceptable friends."

Bon scowled.

Roman snorted, quickly wiping alfredo sauce from his mouth. They both stared at him. Catherine finally looked up from the case file she was reading, arched an eyebrow. "Boys, must you fight at the dinner table? Roman, why are you wearing your food?"

"Because Auggie's being so serious, when all he really wants is to bang his school's Catholic saint. Norris said this guy talks to God, prays in the bathroom, and probably has lice. Auggie's just afraid that this guy'll find out what a man whore he is and not want him."

August's poker face lost the hand, rage setting his hair on fire. "Shut up, you little dick."

Bon rubbed his forehead.

Catherine Richards was a classical beauty. She had been a model when she'd met Bon, tall, pale, with dark eyes and a dark brown hair made of reds and golds that defied simple labels. She was rose to Bon's happy winding ivy. Modeling paid for school, but a flawless degree in bio-chemistry took her to medical school while Bon strode through law school. August had been born nine months after she finished her residency in oncology. She pointed her pen at August. "You are still practicing safe sex?"

"Yes, Mother, always."

The pen shifted to point at Roman. "Your brother's sexuality is not a subject for you at this table. Your vocabulary demonstrates a terrible lack of cognitive development. Three thousand words on the Catholic church, APA format, before you play video games, talk to any disreputable friends, which would include everyone either of you has ever brought into this house, or leave the house, except for school or required medical care."

"Two thousand," Roman half begged, big greenish hazel eyes imploring her.

"Four, due by weekend, or you'll be grounded for all of next week and it will be five. Bon, run the ad. You have people who can make sure it doesn't have a negative impact on you. August, if you get your father in trouble, I will chemically castrate you for a month. It'll help you concentrate on your studies."

August's face went utterly pale. He was ninety-five percent sure she didn't mean it, but she had been very unhappy with him for getting expelled from Harvard. "Yes, Mother. I'm just trying to impress a boy."

"His major?"


"His GPA?'

"Better than mine."

"He's Catholic."

"As far as I can tell."

"If you try to convert, I will get you into a school in China. Chinese is an excellent skill set."

August smiled, not as flawless as he could pull off with his father, but still pretty good. "My Chinese is terrible. His name is Corey Anderson. He's good and honorable. Him being Catholic doesn't mean anything."

She looked up from her file, smiled approvingly. "Maybe this boy will be good for you. Bon."

"Yes, dear," he said, one elbow on the table, a smile on his face that neither of his sons wanted to look at. He'd run the ad. He'd put the ad on the moon if that's where she wanted it.

Catherine Richards didn't want to be First Lady. She wanted to be President of the UN, or maybe get a medical Nobel Prize, but either way the Richards household had order because of her.

August Richards wanted only to see Corey Anderson smile. After he got that far, he'd find something else that he wanted.


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