Love is spelt B.D.S.M.

by Morrie_Wilde

Summary:

He looked at the building, painted black with beautiful gold and red lettering on the facade, which he believed was hand painted.

Avalon.

“I’m afraid we are not yet open love.” The blond man said, checking out Merlin from head to toe.

“Oh hi. I am looking for a job, I was hoping to talk with the manager.”

“Be here tomorrow night at 9pm. Black shirt, black trousers. It’s a trial shift, not a promise.”

OR Merlin is looking for a job and gets a trial shift at the Avalon, not aware that the place is a fetish club.

Notes:

Hello and welcome on this new fic. Please grab a sit and enjoy.
Smut will be served in the second chapter : this chapter is tottaly cock free.

Chapter 1: The Trial Shift

The Trial Shift 

 

It was not that Merlin hated London, he liked it in fact, but the city was so vast and he always felt like he did not belong here. Coming from a small town that no one could place on a map, he was overwhelmed by the buildings, the underground and the constant life that was thriving around him. It had been two years since he had moved to the capital, but he still could not get used to it. He had stopped looking at the night sky, knowing he could not see the stars. 

But he had always put away his discomfort, aware that he had to be there. No matter how much he loved his hometown, finding a job over there was almost impossible. But he had promised to himself that one day, he will be back in Ealdor. As he checked the digital panel, he shyly smiled. He was still astonished that he only had to wait four minutes to grab the next train. Back home, if he missed a bus, he would have to wait two hours for the next one, if he was lucky. 

He patted his messenger bag, a habit he had since someone had stolen it six months ago. He stepped in the carriage and went at the end of it, leaning against the back wall. He still remembered the first time he had taken the tube by himself : he almost had a panic attack. But now that he knew the lines like the back of his hand, he knew he could do it with his eyes closed. 

When he emerged from the earth half an hour later, he grabbed his small notebook and wrote down the time it had taken him. This was still within the range he had set for himself in his job hunt journey, and he tiredly took of a small stack of resumes from his bag. 

He was exhausted. He already had a part time job in a small café down his street, and he was going to university, studying English history. It has always been a childhood dream, to teach history to young kids. When he was six, he had found in those tales an escape to his everyday life and to pass on this knowledge only seemed natural to him. But his mother had lost her restaurant three months ago, following some health issues. She was in debt and unable to work just yet and even if he had to die from exhaustion, he would try his best so she would have food on the table, just like she did when he was a kid. 

The streets of Soho were animated and he glanced over the shops signs, the pubs and cafés, leaving resumes here and there. He had the experience and was confident that he would find something. His schedule was tight though, only available in the evening. He passed by few places that were closing at 5pm and did not bother to even enter. 

He looked at a building, painted black with beautiful gold and red lettering on the facade, which he believed was hand painted. Avalon. With a quick glance over the door, he checked for the opening times but as he came closer, a man sticking up a poster stopped him. 

“I’m afraid we are not yet open love.” The blond man said, checking out Merlin from head to toe. His accent was posh and his suit was probably worth three months of rent in Kensington. Merlin was taken aback by the weirdly patronizing tone, before offering his hand to the man. 

“Oh hi. I'm Merlin. I am looking for a job, I was hoping to talk with the manager.” The man did not shook Merlin’s hand, but his eyes were intensely scanning Merlin now, his gaze almost burning. The dark haired man bit his lips, and handed him his resume. 

“You ever worked behind a bar?” The posh git asked, ignoring the resume before him. 

“Yes.” Merlin replied, trying his best to not to let is voice crack. This man was intimidating but there was something more. An arrogant shell that was hiding a kinder man. 

“Can you work evenings?” The man was now leaning against the wall from the alcove nestling the entrance door, his arms crossed on his chest. 

“Evenings are perfect for me.” Merlin stated. He dropped his hand and placed his resume back in his messenger bag. 

“Be here tomorrow night at 9pm. Black shirt, black trousers. It’s a trial shift, not a promise.” The blond pushed himself back on his feet and opened the door. 

“Thank you sir !” Merlin grinned from ear to ear and the man looked at him for a split second, the corner of his lips curling up slightly before disappearing through the door.

Merlin kept walking down the street, mentally cringing for calling this man “sir". He was twenty three, he was a grown man and that guy must not be much older than him, but it came out before he could think about it. It was his thing, speaking first and thinking later. He finally decided to stop his job hunting for the day, at least fifteen resumes lighter. He pushed the door of a Caffè Nero  and ordered an Earl Grey tea, glancing over the food area. His stomach talked for him and he grabbed a goat’s cheese wrap. He grabbed a sit at one of the small table in the back and placed his phone on top, and groaned when he spilt some hot water whilst putting his cup down. He snatched a handful of napkins to clean the mess and apologised as the barista walked to his table with a tray. She gave him a soft smile and took out a cloth from her apron to clean the wet disaster before putting down the plate and a small jug of extra hot water. 

He apologised some more and she left, assuring him it was no big deal. He stared at his hands, dumbfounded by his own clumsiness. A soft chuckle could be heard from the barista who was looking at him from the corner of her eyes behind the bar, and he shook himself back from his overly self aware state. He grabbed his small notebook and read over his notes, listing all the places he had dropped his resume today. He hated being called back and having no clue about the job or even which place was calling him back. He also knew he had to write them down to just even remember where the place was. A bit old fashioned, but he was not good with technology. In fact, he had a smartphone and he did not even know why, using it strictly to call and text. The rest of the features were like sorcery to him. 

After five minutes of frantic search in his bag and pockets, he was defeated : he had lost his pen. He sighed loudly and gave up. He put away his notebook and grabbed his history book instead, spending the next two hours reading over, folding some corners on pages he wished to explore more later at the library. He drank his cold tea and ate half of his wrap, lost in the words. 

It was when a customer walked in that his eyes widened. The view of the man’s outfit made him realise that he did not own a black shirt. He lazily looked at his blue t-shirt and brown faux suede jacket and shook his head. He stood up and grabbed the first thing on the table – an empty brown sugar sachet – to use as a bookmark and shoved everything in his bag. He banged his hip on the corner of the table on his way out as the barista hailed at him. She handed him his red scarf, clearly amused. He placed the fabric around his neck and thanked her while he pushed the door. He rolled his eyes when the word “pull" by the handle mocked him. 

With long strides, he walked back to the underground station, and emerged three stops later, happy to feel his bag still on his side. He opened his wallet and stared at the tenner taunting him. He stood on the pavement, weighted the pros and cons of buying a shirt. On one side, this could lead to him being hired and in this case, it was more like an investment. On the other side, this tenner was meant to be the budget for his groceries of the week. A small voice was telling him off for spending that much money on coffee and tea but he brushed it off quickly, his café shops treats being the only socializing events in his life. Someone bumped into him and he started to walk again. He settled for browsing charity shops first, hoping to find something for less than a fiver, leaving him enough to buy ten mushy peas tins, and ten baked beans tins – god bless Tesco Value. He will have the rest of his life to worry about the actual nutritious value of canned food. 

In the first charity shop, he had found nothing, but in the second one, he brandished his fist in victory ; holding a black shirt, which happened to be his size. And the tag was more than a blessing, being priced at two pounds. He paid, with a smile too big for to the situation, which earned him a weird look from the old lady working the till. But knowing he will be able to enjoy a loaf of bread with his beans was enough to bring joy in his heart.  

He made his way back without incidents, until he was faced with what seemed to be the contents of somebody’s stomach by his front door. The somebody in question was nowhere to be seen, and sadly, he was too used to this occurrences : the joy of living above a chippy which gets its clientele from the pubs just down the road. He made a mental note to come back down with a bucket of water later, and went up the stairs, two by two. He discarded his jacket on the back of the sofa, and flung himself in the same manner. He kicked his shoes and turned the telly on, mind numbed by an episode of The Chase.  

He waved lazily at Will who appeared behind the sofa and turned the kettle on. No one could deny that the London flats were practical: you could do the dishes while sitting on the couch, that is if you had enough money left to pay for your food. On the plus side, the constant greasy stench coming from the shop below was usually enough to cut Merlin's appetite. He sighed at the telly after one of the contestant decided to go for the highest offer that the Chaser – Mark Labbett aka The Beast- laid on the table. It was a pure display of pride and greed from the contestant, and Merlin shook his head when the contestant got eliminated. 

“Merlin!” 

Without a look, Merlin held his hand up and caught a can of cider. His joy was short lived as he dropped the can right after opening it. He blamed the condensation on the can, not his clumsiness obviously. Will sat next to him, a coffee in one hand and a Thatcher's in the other and sighed at the damp carpet. Merlin climbed over the back of the sofa and dumped a large amount of kitchen roll on the spill, amazed that even the smell of the cider was not overpowering the chips' one. Will kept juggling from his coffee to his can, which made Merlin raise a slightly concerned -and a bit disgusted – eyebrow. 

“I want to get drunk, but like, awake drunk you know what I mean?” 

Merlin chuckled at his flatmate before cheering, his own can way lighter than he had hoped. 

“How was the job hunt?” Will finally asked, his voice betraying his thoughts. He was against the idea of Merlin working a second job and he had made it quite clear in the past.

“Got a trial shift tomorrow, we'll see.” Merlin said, brushing off the subject. He was too tired to get into an other argument. Even if he could see Will's point of view, it’s not like if he had a choice : both him and his mom needed the money. End of discussion. 

“Fingers crossed then.” Will snatched the remote and changed the channel, despite Merlin's disapproval. They ended up watching Jersey Shore, which Will was weirdly addicted to, even if he kept claiming he was watching it “ironically”. After just  four minutes and countless eye rolls, Merlin called it a night and disappeared in his room. Well, in his box. The fact that it was legal to rent a living space that could only hold a single bed and a kid’s shelf was a mystery to Merlin. He dreamed of the day he could have an actual wardrobe and could still open his door. He fell asleep lulled by the drunkards chanting in the glory of Arsenal right below his window. 

 

It’s the vibration of his phone that brought him back to life the next day. He groaned at his alarm and dragged his sleeping body to the bathroom. He brushed his teeth while taking a shower, before being expelled by the hot water running out. He could hear the boiler coughing up his metallic lungs in Will’s room, begging to just die already. Living in this flat was being between the devil and the deep blue sea. He’d rather have the smallest room and not die from carbon monoxide poisoning than having a tiny more room but face a quiet death in his sleep. 

He dressed up quickly and made his way downstairs in a rush. It’s only when he stepped into something that was definitely not part of the pavement that he remembered – the bloody bucket of water. He ran up to the flat, hopping on one leg and threw his soiled shoe in the shower. He looked around but the only bucket he found had a hole at the bottom, ruining the whole concept of a bucket. He groaned, his mind fogged by the lack of caffeine and went back to the bathroom to run water on his shoe. At least, his fake leather boot was quick and easy to rinse, and he put it back on, shaking his foot to get rid of the few droplets. 

He left the flat again before stepping back, blocking the door with his leg in a desperate movement. He winced as his limb got squeezed and reached back to grab his bag left on the floor. He patted his pockets and once he was sure that he had his phone and keys, he let go of the door. Practically rolling downstairs, he jumped over the pool of sick, but lost his balance as his wet boot slipped on the stone. He fell hard on his backside and considered giving up for a split second.

The sound of a big engine made him jumped to his feet and he ran for the bus, holding his arm up. But the bus driver looked at him whilst carrying on his route. He reached the bus stop breathless. He checked the time on his phone.

 “Bugger.” It was loud enough for the dog walker to look back at him but Merlin did not care. His job was down the road, but what a long street. He had five minutes to not be late. He readjusted his bag and started running again, dodged an old man with a cane, jumped over the hole in the pavement – on which he had sprained his ankle two months ago – and crossed the one way street without looking, thankful for cars being loud enough to hear. He loved the ecological aspect of electric cars, but they were silent death-traps. 

He burst into the Rising Sun café, sweating and breathing loudly, right on time. Gaius – the owner – looked at him strangely but before he could say a thing, Merlin was already getting changed in the back. When he came back in uniform, the old man could not help himself and smiled at the young man. 

“Merlin..” he started, but was cut by Merlin apologising about his appearance and babbling about wet shoe and sadistic bus drivers. He heard something about a bucket which was a shame to its peers at some point. He patted Merlin on the shoulder to shut him up gently. 

“It's your day off Merlin.” 

“Oh, you must be joking?” he put down his cloth, his table cleaning mission aborted. 

“You requested this day off.” Gaius said fondly. He was amazed that Merlin could achieve anything in his daily life. The young man was a mess but Gaius knew he was trying, he was really trying to do things right. And he was even more amazed considering Merlin was the best worker he ever had : quick, efficient, and always happy. And for a reason Gaius could not explain, Merlin was not clumsy anymore from the moment he was in uniform, almost as if all his focus was in his work and the rest of the time, his limbs were rebelling against their host in some kind of payback for the abuse they were subjected to. His body was really trying to hurt him to get a day off, it was the only explanation the old man could come up with. And he was willingly letting Merlin go home early, and he had offered him to reduce his hours but the young man had begged him to not do it. So Gaius had gave up, but he always made sure that Merlin had at least one full meal on his shift. And no, Gaius was not over prepping sandwiches so Merlin could take the left overs back home. He would deny it completely. 

“Oh no. I did ask for a day off. Oh no.” Merlin was looking like a deer caught in the light of a car. He threw his apron on the counter and rushed back in the staff room. Gaius heard him tripping over. He stormed out and Gaius shoved him a take away cup. Merlin shouted a thanks as he was already making his way to the underground station. He thanked the gods for not having to recharge his Oyster card and entered a carriage, his blood pumping through his veins. As usual, he patted his bag, only to figure out something was wrong as his bag was definitely too squishy, missing the usual tension his folder put on the fabric. Without daring to look, he buried his hand in it, only to touch a lot of random things, but the one he was looking for. 

He almost forgot to get out at the right station. When he finally arrived at his university, he was drained from all energy and only wished for a coffee or a tea. He stared at his hands blankly, knowing for a fact he had a cup of tea when he left the Rising Sun. He had long stop trying to remember those things, cause that cup of tea was officially gone, like many others before. He wished he could use a reusable cup but what’s the point of having a reusable cup if he needed to buy a new one every three days. 

He took a deep breath and checked the time, relieved to see that his oral exam was in fifteen minutes. Shockingly he was not late, but he did not have his notes. Better this way than the other, he thought. 

And he nailed it. Or at least, he felt like he did. He knew his whole thesis by heart, even the sources. The fact that he could remember all this and yet could almost forget his own name was a mystery to himself, and the rest of the world. 

On his way back home, he stopped by the Rising Sun, melting as the tea made its way down his throat, finally. Gaius made him a grilled cheese that he ate in three mouthfuls. 

“I..” under Gaius’ paternal eyebrow, he swallowed before speaking again. “ I got to go, I’ve got no classes this afternoon and I am dying for a nap.” He threw his dirty napkin on his now empty plate and yawned, stretching his arms above his head. He finished his tea and slammed the cup back on the counter, in a harsher manner  than intended. He made an apologetic grimace at the old man, and let out a heartfelt ‘Ta!’ as he placed his scarf back around his neck. 

He doesn’t know how long it took him to reach his flat, all he knew was that his bed was a blessing. He fell asleep all dressed up, his long legs hanging at the end of the bed, his boots still on. 

He only woke up as Will turned on the blender, for some obscure reason. Groggy, he propped himself on his elbow and groaned, confused between being too warm yet too cold. He pushed himself up and almost stumble backward, his legs refusing to uncross. With his left hand, he grabbed his phone. 

“Bugger!” It was 8.15pm. He had forty five minutes to get ready and get to Soho. He snatched the black shirt from the plastic bag by his bed and dropped his jacket on the floor. He took off his t-shirt hastily and hurt his nose. 

He ran to the bathroom looking for his deodorant but could not find it. He stepped out of the bathroom and found it. Well his foot found it. 

“Shit!” He hopped on his right leg while rubbing his left foot but lost his balance and went crashing head first on his bedroom door, which made him swing back in the room and his body ended its course on the bed. With a heavy sight, he got up again and picked up the deadly weapon from the hallway. One arm after the other, he put on his black shirt only to realise midway that he had unevenly buttoned it. 

“Fuck!” One of the button went flying as he unbuttoned the whole thing in a rush. He stared at the piece of plastic laying on the carpet and tried to figure out from where it came from. After finding out it was the second button from the top, he decided to leave the shirt slightly opened on his chest – not that he had a choice really. Glancing at his black trousers, he decided to put a belt on cause belts are always professional. With half of the content of his kid’s wardrobe on the floor, he retrieved the accessory and groan at each of his belt loop. 

On his way out, he seized his jacket and his bag but he stopped abruptly under Will's judgemental gaze in the kitchen. Will pointed to his hair and Merlin passed a hand through it, deciding that the I-just-woke-up look was really fashionable. Will threw him a pack of digestives and Merlin grabbed three of them, swearing at the crumbs on his immaculate black shirt. As he placed the biscuits back, he raised an eyebrow at the pinkish brownish content in the blender but he did not have the time – or the will – to question his flatmate. From the sofa, he grabbed his red scarf and just like that, he left the flat. Will was now handing over a glass of strawberry and chocolate milkshake to no one. 

“More for me.” Will shrugged. He turned on the telly, unbothered. 

In front of the building, Merlin dodged the puke in one expert slight of legs and ran to the underground station. 

“Damn!” His Oyster card was nowhere to be found. He dug in his pocket, and found the change he had left from the charity shop yesterday. As he was queuing by the machine, he crossed his arms, tapping his fingers. When it was his turn, he growled at the price of the ticket. Almost five quid for a single journey. He paid, his mushy peas becoming a wild fantasy now. Beans will do the job. 

He rushed down the stairs and got into the carriage in extremis. He counted the change he had left, bashing himself even more for stopping at Nero yesterday. He had £3.10 left, which meant a really long walk home. 

He ran down the Soho streets, looking for the black building but he could not find it. He recognised the Wetherspoons and the Co-op so he guessed he was on the right way. He refused to check the time, for his own sanity. On the left, he finally recognised the golden lettering on the facade and he ran once more, one hand on his bag, the other holding his scarf. He came to a stop and checked the time. 9.17pm. 

“Oh fuck, wank, bugger, shitting, arse, head and hole![ ” 

“Apologise accepted.” Merlin snapped his head towards the voice and found the posh man standing in the alcove. He was harbouring a smirk that made Merlin self aware of his appearance. His shirt was open low and his skin was peaking under his scarf, his hair was a mess, his cheeks were pink and he was panting. 

“I'm sorry, I fell asleep, and then the blender and it was...late and my deodorant and ... no Oyster card and... Almost got lost and –“ 

“Shut up.” The man actually rolled his eyes but chuckled slightly. He was wearing another one of those really expensive suit and a well tailored burgundy shirt. His hair was messy, but the kind of perfect look that took half an hour in front of the mirror to achieve. The blond held the door open and Merlin entered, his breathing a bit more under control. 

“I'll have you working behind the bar tonight. Don’t be scared, but you’ll be on your own. Wednesdays are usually quiet and I want to see if you can handle it alone. If we happen to get busy, come and get me and I’ll give you a hand. For any other matters, you can ask Gwen if she is available.” The blond man pointed to a woman sitting at the bar, head buried in paperwork. He left his eyes wander around. The place was as black as its outside, red and golden spots of lights illuminating the space. He realised that a crystal bowl was standing in the bar, filled with square foiled package that he could only identify as condoms. 
The blond walked behind the bar and Merlin instinctively followed him. 

“The till system is like any other, you should get used to it pretty quickly.” The man tapped the different categories displaying the soft drinks and mocktails. The man showed him how to open a new tab and how to close, cash or card. 

“Any questions so far?” The man turned to him again and Merlin refrained from replying ‘no sir’ even if it burned his lips. There was something about this man that Merlin could not explain. Not that it was bugging him, it was mostly just intriguing. He glanced over the till again, but saw no alcoholic beverages. In fact, the bar did not have any beer on tap, and the bottles on display were different kind of syrups. 

“Arthur, can you give me list of what you need for the bar please? I need to place the order in the next...half hour to be delivered Friday.” Gwen spoke, without looking up. Her voice was soft, and her fingers were dancing on the calculator like they were born to do so. 

“Here you go.” The man – Arthur – said as he slid a piece of paper over the bar. 

“Thanks. Oh hi?” She looked surprised, only now aware of Merlin's presence. “Sorry, I did not mean to be rude, I did not realise you were there.” Gwen truly looked sorry. Her big brown eyes almost sad from her involuntary rudeness. 

“Gwen, this is Merlin. He’s on trial tonight.” Arthur patted him on the shoulder and the dark haired man got taken aback, the hand making contact quite roughly. 

“Nice to meet you Merlin! So tell me, have you ever worked in a fetish club?” Merlin tried his best to not make her repeat those words. He could not help himself and looked at the room with new eyes, and yes, it was definitely condoms on the bar. 

“I have worked behind a bar before, can’t be that different.” He said those words, trying to convince himself in the process. His answer earned him an approval nod from Arthur and a warm smile from Gwen. 

“Indeed, the job is basically the same.” Arthur carried on, “ we just have few extra rules. No fingering or any sexual intercourse at the bar, we have alcoves and back rooms for this. The bar area is strictly for meeting and negotiating. If you see someone who seemed intoxicated, please tell a DM so they can have a talk with them. Same goes if you suspect someone of drug use. The Avalon has a strict no alcohol or drug policy.  Just always remember : SSC. Safe, Sane and Consensual. If you feel like a situation is not one of this three things, tell a DM or myself straight away.” Arthur was talking without any taboo and shamelessly, which put Merlin at ease. It was not that Merlin was uncomfortable about the bar and what was taking place here, he was uncomfortable due to his lack of experience in the scene, feeling like he did not fit here. 

“Alright... What's a ... DM?” Merlin asked, expecting Arthur to roll his eyes or even laugh at him. But he did none of those. Instead, he leaned against the till, slightly turned towards Merlin. 

“It’s the Dungeon Master. On the week days, we have one whilst on the week ends, you will see two or three around. They have a bracelet on their arm with the letters ‘DM'. Think of them as security agents if you will.” Arthur opened a bottle of ginger beer and took a sip, looking lost in thoughts. “Merlin...” His voice was serious as he stepped in front of the young man, planting his eyes in Merlin's. “Working here does not mean the customers own you or your body. You will get offers, it will happen, and don’t ever think you have to accept them to get this job or keep it. Your employee status does not override your consent. Nothing does.” 

Merlin swallowed, his throat dry. He had no idea what to expect, and the unknown was slightly making him anxious. Sex had never been a big part of his life, mostly because he was too exhausted all the time to go out and even meet people. His libido was high, but taking care of it himself was easier and less time consuming, and to him, time really was money. Some people discover themselves in their teenage years, find their identity in their twenties, but Merlin had simply never questioned his sexuality. He was a simple man : if he fancied someone, he would flirt with them. He was not even sure he had a type or a preferred gender, he just fancied...beauty of body and soul, even if it sounded ridiculous. 

“What if I want to take the offer?” Merlin surprised himself as he spoke. Arthur seemed lost in thought once again, looking over at Gwen who was tapping her pen on her stack of paper. 

“I think Percy would be good.” Gwen finally replied. Arthur nodded, smiling slightly. 

“Alright Merlin, if you do in fact want to do a scene, we will get Percy to be your protector.” Arthur’s voice was warm and almost happy, which made Merlin shyly smile. The blond had two faces : the arrogant owner and the soft spoken man. He found himself attracted to both, in a different way. “Percy will have a talk with you, mostly about your boundaries, your limits, your safe word and he will be the one negotiating the scene for you with the person who approached you. As the time pass and you are more experienced, you’ll do your own negotiations but as a start, we believe it’s better to have someone do it for you. They are your consent voice, so you don’t agree to something out of fear, intimidation or lack of knowledge.’’ 

Merlin nodded along, but their talk was cut short by a man walking in. The long haired man took off his jacket, revealing his bare chest. Only a silver necklace was hanging around his neck. His military trousers were low on his waist and he had a pair of big leather boots but nothing else. 

“Hey Princess, how’s life?” The man grabbed Arthur and pulled him in hug, which made the blond look like a startled deer. When they broke it off, the man laid his eyes on Merlin. 

“And who are you?” His smile and his body language was flirtatious when polite, which made Merlin slightly chuckled in confusion. He grabbed the hand the man was offering. 

“Merlin. I got a trial shift tonight.” The man looked at Arthur, hopefully. 

“To work behind the bar, Gwaine!” And this time, Arthur rolled his eyes. 

“With such looks, it’s a shame eh?” and on those words, Gwaine left, not without kissing Gwen's cheek. He retrieved his jacket that he had left on one of the bar stool and disappeared in the back. 

“That's Percy's partner,” Arthur started. Gwen cleaned the top of the counter, walked behind the bar and placed all the paperwork on the shelf below the till. “They work here as a dom/sub couple, and they do scenes in the Excalibur room everynight for everybody to enjoy. Think of it as kinky theatre if you will.” 

“Alright boys, I’m going to get changed.” Gwen breathed out, pushing herself back on her feet. She untied her hair on her way to the back. 

“We are opening in fifteen minutes. Don’t stress, relax, it will be all fine.” Arthur tapped him on the shoulder once again before leaving him, alone. 

Merlin glanced around, happy to see all the fridges were restocked. He played with the till for two minutes, glad to see they used a really intuitive system. For a second, he wondered if he should slice any limes or lemons but seeing no chopping boards or knifes – or fruits, he gave up on it. He slightly jumped out of skin when the ice cube machine rumbled behind him. At least, he now knew where it was. He squatted down and checked the glasses, when a small folder caught his eyes. He grabbed it and found the recipes for the mocktails the Avalon offered. He read over the few pages, nodding to himself. 

A tall man stormed in, a bag in hand. 

“Gwaine!” The man stopped abruptly as he saw Merlin behind the bar  “Sorry. You’re not Gwaine.” 

“He’s in the back.” Merlin replied, for lack of anything else to say. He  gestured awkwardly in the direction of the corridor, which he believed lead to some kind of rooms. Arthur did not make him visit all the premises, and Merlin was actually glad for it, fearing to be overwhelmed. 

The man sat at the bar and glanced at his watch. He shook Merlin’s hand. 

“Percy.” Merlin’s eyes widen at the name and he could not help to scan the man sitting before him. He had arms twice the size of Merlin's thigh yet his handshake had been really soft, almost as if the man was aware of his strength and was trying to control it. He definitely thought that Percy would indeed be a good protector, judging by his imposing size and kind eyes. 

Percy raised an eyebrow when Merlin did not say anything, which made the dark haired man come back to the conversation. 

“I'm Merlin. Sorry, Arthur mentioned you earlier and I got lost in my thoughts.” 

“Did you?” The man gave Merlin a loud laugh, and the new bartender mentally bashed himself for his choice of words. 

“It's not what I meant.” And he actually chuckled with the man. He had thought he would be embarrassed but he weirdly felt at ease instead. “I've never worked in a place like this before, I guess I need to be more careful with what I say.” Merlin joked, grabbing a glass and silently offering Percy something to drink. 

“Have you ever been to a fetish club?” Percy’s voice was full of benevolence. He reached above the bar and grabbed a bottle of water before shoving it in his bag. 

“Nope.” Merlin grabbed some water for himself. It was those kind of feeling you had in a new workplace, walking behind a new bar, and knowing that this was it. You could call this your bar. That is exactly what Merlin felt at that moment, discarding some blue roll he used to clean the water he had obviously spilt while opening his bottle. 

“I think you’ll be fine. Just remember : The first rule of a fetish or kink club is that you lose the right to judge others. Your kink might not be my kink, and that’s ok.” Percy gave him a warm smile and stood up. He stretched, and as he did, his tank up slightly curled up. Merlin distinguished old and new bruises on the man's hips. 

In the next hour, the Avalon filled up at a slow pace. Merlin actually came to appreciate everybody’s outfit, from the leather suits to the sophisticated pencil skirt paired with electric red PVC high heels. Arthur had been right as Merlin was not struggling at all. Most of the people that were there did not order any thing, apart from an occasional coke or alcohol free beer. 

Two hours in, and Merlin was still enjoying his evening. He had a few pleasant chats at the bar. And once again, Arthur had been right as Merlin turned down the fifth offer if the evening. And accepting it had not even crossed his mind, too work focused to even think about it. And he did not click with anyone either, not enough to say yes to them. Plus, he trusted Arthur on the matter, and would definitely prefer Percy to be here to assist him. He had turned down an offer including some Shibari, and had tried his best to not show he had no clue what the woman was talking about. But all what was left from his anxiety disappeared when he realised that the people he had turned down had been overly polite about it, and never pushed him to accept. No meant no. 

Overall, he had a good shift. He tried as much as he could not to stare at some people, dressed in really intricate harnesses or simply naked, but not out of judgment. He felt like watching a beautiful moving painting, the leather and latex moving around in the most natural way. And to his own surprised, he was not aroused, just amazed at how these people were living through their fantasies and enjoying themselves. But he knew this was just the tip of the iceberg, not fooled by the moans and flesh clapping emanating from the back, that he had yet to visit. He realised he would be more than happy to work here, that is if he were to the job. The evening just felt like hanging out rather than working, much like how he felt at Gaius’ café. He liked working around people and this clientele was one of the nicest one he had encountered, and he could definitely see himself getting to know the patrons. Time to time, he worked as an extra in nightclubs or sport pubs but the people in those places were always there to get shitfaced or start a fight and he could not stand it. 

He polished a tray of glasses, deciding that if Arthur was up to hiring him after his trial, he would accept the offer. 

At 11:30pm, Arthur appeared behind the bar, his suit immaculate. His hair however was messier than before and some sweat was pearling slightly on his forehead. Merlin looked at him, scenes flashing before his eyes, wondering what the blond had been up to. He had seen people tonight, sweaty, out of breath, smiling in that way you know they had just reach their happy place, but he had not dwelled on it, simply offered them some water. 

But Arthur was looking devilishly gorgeous, his arrogant demeanour coupled with post coitus bliss made him look like one of those renaissance painting Merlin had studied countless times. 

And for the first time tonight, he broke a glass. He dropped it as he simply forgot to hold on to it as he was polishing it, and it came crashing at his feet. And Arthur simply smirked at the young man, and gestured to him to pick up the pieces. The blond said no words, and yet Merlin felt like replying to him but not to apologise. He took a deep breath and bent over, carefully grabbing the biggest part before rolling it into a lot of paper. He placed the whole in the bin, and looked around for the brush. 

“In the stock room.” Arthur said finally, after watching Merlin searching around like a headless chicken. 

“Right. The stock room.” Merlin looked around again, and pointed hesitantly at a door. Arthur shook his head and pointed to an other door instead, a ‘staff only’ plaque proudly nagging Merlin. The dark haired man strolled to the stock room, letting a breath out he was not aware he was holding. He found the brush and the dustpan and went back behind the bar, where Arthur was checking the till, going through the sells. 

As Merlin cleaned his mess, he turned around to reach the bin and knocked a bottle of kiwi syrup off the counter with the handle of the brush. He bit his lips, and closed his eyes, awaiting the crash but it never came. Arthur had caught  the bottle mid-air, his gaze locked on Merlin. 

Merlin was absolutely cringing. He could handle his clumsiness in his daily life but as far as he was concerned, he could manage it at work. His movements were always precise, his feet knew where to go, his fingers were meticulous and he had never such as dropped some spare change at work. And the whole evening had happened without incident. But having Arthur behind the bar had just put him off balance.

The blond placed the bottle back on the shelf and smirked at Merlin once more. He then glanced at his watch and around and passed a hand through his hair. He waited for Merlin to discard the broken glass, leaned against the till, arms crossed. When the young man came back, he cleared his throat. 

“Alright, I think that would be all for the night.” Arthur said, eyeing Merlin from head to toe. He would normally stay behind the bar during a trial shift but just being near Merlin was to much for him. The messy hair, the half broken shirt, the blue eyes... He could not focus around him. Instead, he had accepted the first offer he had that night, disappearing in one of the room, trying to take the young man out of his mind. He was a man of control, but he felt like he could lose that control with just a touch of the bartender. And it had nothing to do with sex. This is what was scaring him : he wanted to take him to dinner, take a walk in Hyde park, kiss him softly, the lights of the London Eye casting dancing shadows on his face and waking up next to him, every morning, hold him close and promising him everything will forever be alright. He took a deep breath, knowing he could not hire Merlin. 

Merlin nodded, waiting for Arthur to continue, but the blond seemed elsewhere, his eyes focused on nothing, almost glassy. Almost hurt. So Merlin took upon himself to talk instead. 

“I really enjoyed working here tonight.” He had a gut feeling that he did not get the job though. It was not about the glass, or the bottle, but Arthur had the face of a man who had to do something unpleasant, and those kind of faces never bared good news. He was ready to shake Arthur's hand and leave, when someone tapped him on the shoulder, making him jumped slightly.  

“You've turned a few heads tonight eh?” Gwaine laughed as he reached for two bottles of water. Arthur agreed silently before grabbing a metal wine cooler full of individual wrapped chocolates and sweets and offered it to Gwaine. The long haired man helped himself to some before leaving the bar again. 

“I can offer you a part time. Four hours a day, five days a week.” Arthur hated himself at this moment. But having Gwaine interrupting them had made him realised that Merlin would in fact be good for the Avalon. He was great with customers, he was organised, and even if he wished it should not be considered when looking to hire someone, he was good looking. And that was a great asset for the place. But deep inside, Arthur just knew that he was not ready to say farewell to Merlin just yet.

“You're joking? A part time is good, it’s great even! Thank you!” And here it was again, the blinding grin. Arthur looked anywhere but at Merlin, pretending to read some invoices as he casually continued. 

“Tomorrow, 9pm. Bring your NIN, bank details and any form of ID. Uniform is anything black or red. Don’t be late.” Arthur left the bar without any further look. But he was certain that over the background music, he heard Merlin’s answer. ‘Yes Sir.’

Merlin retrieved his belongings and exited the club. As the fresh air caressed his skin, he took a last glance at the golden lettering on the facade. The Avalon might not have been what he was looking for, but it might be what he needed. 

He readjusted his messenger bag on his shoulder, played mindlessly with the small change he had in his pocket, and started to walk home, his lips still curled up in a smile. 

Chapter 2: Ginless Tonic

Notes:

At least half of this has been written while I was drunk, so yeah, enjoy !
Well, truth being, I aren't sober while publishing it so....that's that.

Also, ahoy, ahoy, smut ahead !

Ginless Tonic 

 

The next morning, Merlin woke up feeling strangely rested. He still groaned though, his legs hurting from the walk back the previous night. He stood up and unplugged his phone, happy at his past self to have thought about plugging it before falling asleep. It has been weeks, if not months, since he had woken up in a good mood. He strolled to bathroom, slightly humming. 

“Shut up!” Will shouted from the living room, and Merlin loudly laughed at his roommate. He emerged in the communal room, only dressed in his briefs, and put the kettle on, still humming to himself. 

“Merlin, I swear to god! It's too early to be happy.” Will groaned, burying his face in his palm. He was sitting on the sofa, still wearing the same clothes as yesterday and sticking of alcohol. 

“Got drunk by yourself yesterday?” Merlin asked, cruelly smirking at his friend's suffering. 

Will just let escaped an animal-like sound and massaged his temples. The bartender made his cup of tea, bouncing around the kitchen, before going back to his room. He retrieved a red t-shirt from the floor and put it on. He stretched slightly, and grabbed his black trousers. Shrugging, he decided that he could definitely wear them again today. There was no rule about how many times you can wear a pair of jeans without washing them right?  

It was not even eight in the morning when Merlin left his flat, his messenger bag on his shoulder and his phone in hand. At the bus stop, he smiled to himself. This morning was going without incident so far and he could not be happier about it. And the bus was on time, for once. He stepped in, scanned his card and even found a seat at the back. Oh, it was a beautiful day. He arrived at the Rising Sun café with ten minutes to spare and even Gaius was shocked to see Merlin not only on time, but early. 

And for his whole shift, Merlin kept humming, whistling and overall, being way too happy and energetic. 

When he left the Rising Sun at noon to go to university, he had his usual take away cup in hand. Nothing was spilt, nothing was forgotten, nothing was lost. 

His pen was still in his bag. He ran down the university stairs and did not trip at all. And not even once he forgot his scarf, which was blue that day. Everything was going so perfectly that he became suspicious around four in the afternoon. 

On his way back to his flat, the journey had been equally uneventful. And someone had cleaned the sick by the front door of the building. His joy was still there but he felt like some doom was hovering over him. 

He ran upstairs and opened the door to his flat, finding out Will was still half-dead on the sofa. He discarded his jacket and left it on the back of the furniture. He opened a can of cider and slightly frowned as he checked the label : Thatchers Haze. Did they bought the wrong one? Nonchalantly, he shrugged and took a large gulp and went to his room. 

He would normally take a nap or work on his thesis but he was restless. His next shift at the Avalon was in few hours and he felt like a teenager getting ready for his first date. With about two hours to spare, he browsed through his wardrobe to find the perfect outfit. It did not have to wear his black shirt tonight, just something black and/or red, and yet he could not make a choice. Would a fitted red t-shirt be classy enough? He looked down and checked himself and decided that no, it won’t do. Black sleeveless top? As he held it before him, he shook his head and threw it on his bed. And then he saw it. That burgundy shirt he had bought a while ago, wanting to upgrade his wardrobe, only to never wear it. It was not that he hated shirts but they were not practical to get changed at work, and he refused to use an iron, knowing he would probably burn down the building. And he might just be a regular lad, but no one can argue that a wrinkled shirt is not really attractive. Ah. 

He froze, standing in his room, staring at the shirt. For the first time since he could even remember, he wanted to look good, to look attractive. Hell, he wanted to look sexy. To have Arthur eyeing him from head to toe, to have Arthur drooling over him. To have Arthur. He took a deep breath, images of the blond invading his mind. He wanted to have this arrogant bastard needing him. Arthur's arms restraining him, his mouth bruising his neck, his cock pushing deep inside him, his posh voice moaning in his ear. He sat down on the edge of his bed, shirtless, and started to palm his hard-on. Arthur's fingers digging in his flesh, Arthur making him beg. Arthur chocking him, Arthur using him. He unbuttoned his trousers and slid his hand inside, grabbing himself. As he moved slowly, teasing himself, he imagined it was Arthur's hand instead. He craved it, wanted to know what this bloody silver ring would feel like on his cock. His breath was erratic as he imagined  Arthur pulling on his hair. As he moaned loudly in the comfort of his room, he could imagine Arthur telling him to shut up and shoving his fingers in his mouth whilst he kept ponding him.

He came loudly, certain that Will must have heard him but he did not care. He fell backward, his back slamming down on the mattress, his heart racing and sweat pearling on his forehead. After a few seconds to regain composure, he grabbed some tissues from his bedside table – ultimate proof of his celibacy and night time hobby – and cleaned the mess. He actually chuckled, not remembering the last time a wank was that good. 

With slightly shaky legs, he took the decision to stroll to the bathroom and jumped in the shower. As the water was running down his body, he felt warm once again. As his hands were working the soap on his skin, he let his mind trail off about Arthur again. He could not think about anything else. The shower ran out of hot water and it felt like a blessing to Merlin, as he stumbled out of the cubicle and dried himself quickly. 

Fully dressed but his hair still damp, he walked in the living room. Will was snoring on the sofa. Merlin grabbed his bag, phone and keys and left the flat, feeling great. 

To say he was almost bouncing down to the underground station would be quite an accurate description. He entered the carriage and for once, decided to grab a seat. Now, looking outside the window on the tube was the less exciting thing in the world, but to Merlin? It was a ballet of darkness and light, a soothing race of concrete and metal, a perfect mix of nothing and too much. He stepped off at Tottenham Court Road, and emerged back on the street. He had about an hour to spare before working and he hoped it would be enough to finally check out Notre Dame de France. Merlin was not a religious guy at all, but he had always loved history in general, and both topic were tightly linked. But this church was different. This edifice was harbouring one of the most peculiar mural of the country :  three stages of the Christ's life ; the Annunciation,  the Crucifixion and the Assumption. The thing is, the mural was Jean Cocteau’s work. A French writer and film director had made a mural in a London church and to Merlin, that was both a wonder and a wander. 

He made his way to the church and spent the next hour taking notes on his notebook – which had so many random things written inside that it was a mess only he could decipher. It had been refreshing to him to spend some time doing something he loved, and he left the religious edifice, head and eyes full of information and beauty, and walked to the Avalon with a grin on his face. 

He was right on time, and mentally high fived himself. As he pushed the door to the club, he was met with more than yesterday. He recognised Percy and Gwaine sitting at the bar, and Gwen chatting with them. Arthur was nowhere to be seen however a tall almost ginger man was by the till instead, talking with an other one who had his arms crossed and seemed to nod continuously. 
Merlin joined them behind the bar, presenting himself and saying hi to the people he knew. It turned out that the tall ginger man was Leon and was working here as a dungeon master. He had not be here the day before as his dog had a veterinary emergency. Merlin thought that he had not, in fact, saw a DM yesterday. The other man – Lance – shook his hand happily, his brown eyes always glancing at Gwen. He was not working for the Avalon per se, but was the owner of a an adult shop down the road and was providing the club. Merlin did not know if Gwen and Lance were together, but he was convinced they both shared the same feelings. 

Gwen kissed Merlin's cheek as a hello, always so softly and lovingly, as if this woman was made of cotton candy and marshmallows. But Merlin stopped when he reached Gwaine and Percy, who were both having a look too cheeky not to hide something. 
“Come here Merlin.” Finally said Gwaine, patting the seat between him and Percy. Merlin glanced at Gwen as to ask permission, knowing he was supposed to start his shift now. The woman just smirked at him – she smirked!- and he took it as a yes. He walked out of the bar and grabbed a seat, even more surprised to see Gwaine leaving, letting him face to face with Percy. 

“I heard Arthur offered my service as a protector. If you are interested, I’ll be more than happy to do so.” The tall man spoke slowly, looking at Merlin as if to gauge his reaction. It was not the first time that he had introduced newcomers to the fetish world, and he knew that people were not to be forced into it. 

“I am not really interested, more curious I guess.” Merlin was surprised how much at ease he was with Percival. The man was emanating an aura of benevolence and love, the human version of a teddy bear. 

“That’s good. Well, do you know which part is tickling your curiosity? Not even something you would like to try you know.” 

“Can I be indiscreet?” Merlin asked, letting his eyes fall on the counter.  He was not going to lie, he always thought love was left by the door, and only lust was allowed inside, but seeing Percy and Gwaine, he had come to reconsider it. 

“Please be.” Percy turned his body to Merlin, intrigued. 

“Gwaine and you... you are a couple.” He said it, half a statement, half a question. And Percy laughed, his eyes shining with mischief. 

“Unfortunately yes. Eight years! Can you believe it? It's not that uncommon you know, to come in such a place as a couple. We have a show at the Avalon, but we are exclusive. Our show has a no-touch policy. We just enjoy people watching us, and to see them getting off our scenes is amazing.” Merlin could feel his heart melt as Percy talked with so much love about his other half. 
“And no, we are not like that at home. Or not all the time at least. We enjoy some vanilla sex, we go to dinner, we argue about who's turn it is to do the dishes. He has that thing where is all grumpy in the morning, and his hair is all tangled... He really can’t function without his coffee. He tries to bake but he is so bad at it...He discovered not long ago that you can’t microwave eggs... He might be all rough on stage, but he is the most loving man I have ever met and he's mine, just as I’m his.” The fondness in Percy's voice created a strange void in Merlin's heart. He had never felt alone, but he had never felt complete either. Like if he was missing something without able to put his finger on it, and just now, he realised that maybe love was what he had missed all along. 

“Do you know what you would be looking for? If you ever decide to a scene?” Percy carried on. 

“I don’t really know. I quite like it rough but that doesn’t mean anything really, does it?” Merlin laughed, because truly, he didn’t know what he liked in bed. He had been pinned down a mattress, had been chocked but nothing more, but he found the idea to be at someone's mercy quite endearing. 

“Rough is quite vague indeed. You have the classic rope play, wax, spanking, chocking, pinching but you also have more hardcore plays like electrification, blood plays, fisting or gunge. And there's some psychology coming into it.. a master/slave dynamic, humiliation, sexual frustration. On the other hand, you can have some really soft thing, which can be just as much exciting. Feathers, massages... teasing your partner but never allowing them to come.”  Merlin nodded along the words. “Someone new to the scene usually starts as a sub, or bottom, simply because you need to know how it feels before doing it to others. You need to learn the difference from a wooden paddle to a leather padded one. How your body moves when tied to then tie someone safely. To learn how to give all your trust to someone before expecting someone to trust you.”

Merlin watched the tall man speaking but his mind wandered to Arthur. Because for some reason, he already trusted the blond man. He could easily imagined himself giving up all boundaries to him, letting the blond possess him. Almost on cue, Arthur appeared by the bar, impeccably dressed as usual, his blond hair savagely messy. Percy did not miss Merlin's gaze trailing off to Arthur and he smiled shyly. 

The giant knew the blond for almost a decade, and even did few scenes with him before Gwaine came along. He could see why Merlin would be drawn to the man as Arthur had this aura of authority but as soon as he smiled, he could melt every hearts in the room. 

“I'd better get to work.” Merlin suddenly stood up from the bar stool, trying his best to not be overwhelmed by Arthur's presence. His belt got caught in the metal work of the stool and he fell head first on the floor, the stool finishing him off as it crashed hard on his back. The room went quiet and Gwen rushed to help him but she stopped as Merlin started to giggle out loud. He pushed himself up, planting his palms on the ground. 

“I'm fine!” He let out, holding his arms up and grinning. Funnily enough, he felt like things came back to normal, clumsiness and all. He had been expecting it to happen sooner or later, and here it was. Arthur studied him, but Merlin did not seem to be hurt, only his black trousers were stained with some dust and his shirt was messy, letting the young man's collarbone out in the open. The blond stared at the pale skin for longer that he would admit, and turned back to the till screen, hiding his erection. He mentally scolded himself, annoyed to not be able to control his body reactions. Everyday, he was face to face with people dressed in leather, harnesses, fetish suits and he always loved the look of it but this man could make him feel so much by just dressing...normally. He tucked on his collar slightly, trying to get more air in his lungs as he could feel Merlin's presence behind the bar. Percy had gone in the back to meet with Gwaine. Gwen had gone to get changed, not without enthusiastically waving Lance goodbye.  Leon had snatched a bottle of water and went in the back as well. So they were left alone. 

Merlin checked the fridges and restocked the shelves They did not exchanged any words. Arthur was doing god knows what – paperwork of some sort it seemed – and Merlin was trying his best to stay busy. It was almost as if they had a mutual silent agreement to not come close to each others.
The blond took a deep breath, his feet glued to the floor. He struggled to think straight, his mind submerged by obscene images ; all of them including Merlin. It was nothing really : the stupid smile, the low voice, the happy attitude, the quirkiness. But it was too much for the blond. He wanted to grab those dark hair, to devour those lusty lips, to mark the pale skin, biting every inch of it. To have Merlin on his knees, begging him, to tell him how beautiful he was. To love him. 

“Bugger!” Arthur almost jumped out of his skin at Merlin’s shout. The dark haired man was covered with tonic water from head to toe, and he was still holding the bottom of the broken bottle in his hand. Such a small bottle was holding a surprising large amount of liquid. His burgundy shirt was becoming one with his chest, and Merlin instinctively licked his lips as a drop of the beverage was rolling down his face. He swore that the bottle had genuinely exploded by itself, he did nothing wrong. It just had decided to pop. He tentavely looked back at Arthur, throwing apologies with his eyes and biting his bottom lips as to say ‘oopsie'.  

Arthur swallowed. And cleared his throat. He was too hard to not think about his own cock and too distracted to even bother hiding it. Eyes in eyes, they didn’t move. They knew that if one of them dared saying something or even breathing, the other could not control themselves. Merlin could see Arthur’s eyes darkening as his pupils dilated, and he could not miss the tension in the blond's trousers. Drenched, Merlin didn’t care, as his eyes trailed down, stuck on Arthur’s lap. He let out a small moan, which was meant to be a sigh and he snapped back to reality. He threw the broken glass in the bin and looked at his shirt. He could tell you why, but he decided that taking it off would be a good call. He unbuttoned it, slowly, too slowly. Arthur's gaze was burning his skin and he could not get enough of it. When the last button was undone, he opened his shirt and grabbed some paper towels to dry himself. He patted his chest, not ashamed of his own erection. 

Arthur stopped pretending to work and was instead fully watching the young man, his elbow propped on the bar. His hand was covering his mouth and Merlin might not have realised that the blond was biting down his index finger, restraining an animal grunt. Merlin finally completely discarded the wet shirt.  Both men were short of breath, and the blond wished he could move but felt like hypnotised. Merlin's chest was pale and begging to be bruised and some dark hairs were drawing an intimate path down to his trousers. His shoulders were broader than Arthur had imagined and his arms were strong and defined. Merlin was looking like a Greek creature, made of marble and designed by the gods. 

Merlin looked back at the blond, almost accusing him for still being dressed. But for nothing in the world he wished Arthur would take off his clothes. He was looking devilishly controlled in his suit, his chest raising at each erratic breath he was taking, making the buttons of white shirt pleading to be released. He knew that he could come just like that, starring at this arrogant man on the verge of breaking point. Just to know he had this effect on someone, on Arthur, was awakening his sadistic side and he just wanted to turn Arthur mad with desire. He passed a hand through his humid and slightly sticky hair before licking his fingers, enjoying every second of bitter sweetness. 

Arthur’s jaw was clenched and he mindlessly played with his silver ring as he watched Merlin giving him a show, for lack of a better word. The dark haired man had the audacity to smirk as his tongue made its way on his palm. And this time, the blond could not stop a growl escaping his throat. 

“I got something to do...in the back. Yeah.” He finally breathed out and ungracefully almost ran away from the bar. Truth being, he never reached the back and instead eclipsed himself in one of the toilet stall. He exhaled loudly, his hand finally giving him some release. In less than three strokes, he came, his legs almost giving up. In a loud bang, he let his head drop backward and mumbled a series of ‘fucks' between breaths. He could not carry on like this. This was ridiculous. All his thoughts were consumed by Merlin and he wished he could regret hiring the young man, but he simply couldn’t. In years, especially after opening the Avalon, he had had countless sexual partners : some exceptional, some good and probably a dozen he did not even remembered, but none of them had driven him crazy without even a touch. He stayed there for a while, not having the strength to face Merlin once again. 

Behind the bar, Merlin was cackling. He had had no shame and had enjoyed every second where Arthur had been slowly breaking down. He looked at his shirt, and thanked the piece of fabric. Gwaine appeared back at the front of the club and eyed the shirtless man. 

“That’s a nice view eh?” the long haired man was not hiding his appreciative looks which made Merlin throw his spoilt shirt at his face. 

“Shut up will you! I had a beverage accident!” He grinned, as Gwaine made a comical offended face while getting rid of Merlin's top. 

“Gonna work like that then?” he inquired, clearly showing he had no objection. Merlin looked down at himself and rested his hands on his hips.

“Good point. Got a spare shirt?” 

“Nope!” Gwaine winked at him and tried to snatch a bottle of water, throwing his body over the bar. 

“You do. You bastard!” Merlin took away the water and held it at arm lenght, raising an eyebrow at Gwaine. But it was Gwaine’s turn to have a laugh as it seems someone had open the bottle previously before badly closing it. Merlin ended splashing himself all over again and he gasped, like a fish. Even if a fish might not gasp at the touch of water. Well, Merlin gasped, like a weird fish. 

At the same moment, Arthur had composed himself again and made his way behind the bar, right on time to see everything. He ran his hand down his face as Merlin shook his head, his dark curls sending drops of water everywhere. Gwaine was laughing so hard he was holding his stomach, making weird wheezing noises. 

“Who doesn’t know how to close a bottle properly!” Merlin exclaimed, throwing his hands in the hair, defeated. 

Arthur glanced where his bottle was standing earlier but was not anymore. Ah. Water was now pearling at the end of the dark locks of hair, running down the bare chest and Arthur just left once again, really close to call it a night and go home altogether. However, he got stopped in his track as a loud crushing sound echoed in the still closed club.

Merlin had slipped on the wet floor and went down like a pancake. A really pale pancake. An undercooked pancake. His body was wiggling on the floor as he was laughing loudly, letting out moans of pain inbeetween rounds of laughter. Gwaine had jumped behind the bar, wiping off a tear in the corner of his eyes and held a hand to Merlin to help him on his feet but the two men just kept their hands together, laughing uncontrollably. Finally, as Gwaine tried to pull him up, he just came crashing down in the same ungraceful manner. With great difficulty, Merlin propped himself on his elbows, his dangly legs laid out like a baby deer. Arthur looked at the man, his leather boots and black jeans contrasting with the lack of shirt, his chest dancing along his laugh, his hair messier than ever, and his eyes almost closed from beaming too much. In that moment, he knew he wanted to wake up every morning next to him.  

However, Merlin stopped laughing when his eyes met Arthur's, who was standing tall, almost hovering over him now, arms crossed on his chest and an eyebrow raised. He felt at his mercy, ready to be devoured and his lungs ached from lack of air. Gwaine stared at them both, not fully understanding what was going on. The long haired man came back on his feet and dusted his trousers, clearing his throat. 

“I'll just grab that and go back with Percy...” But he never got an answer, not even a nod from any of them. 

It would have been socially correct for Arthur to ask Merlin if he was okay, or to give a hand but he could not do either. Instead, he stared blankly at the man. And Merlin stared back. The chat with Gwaine had helped him to gain his cool back, but to literally be at the feet of Arthur made him hard, too hard. And he could clearly see that the blond, despite his tall posture and seemingly calm appearance, was in the same situation. 

“Enjoying the view sir?” It took a millisecond for Merlin to register he had just said that out loud. He bit the inside of his cheek when Arthur did not look away. Instead he could his gaze scanning him from head to toe. 

Arthur had not replied, not trusting his own voice, but yes, he was enjoying the view very much. And the man was at it again with the sir. 

Bless her, Gwen came back. Her long hair was free from any tie, and she was wearing velvet trousers and a beautiful black lace top, the whole outfit brought together with a pair of high heels. She looked stunning yet so motherly. She was the walking definition of comfort and hot chocolate with whipped cream. Looking at her, Merlin understood why she was working at Avalon as a babysitter. You see, after a scene, the sub might feel ashamed, cold, or simply in need from some medical attention and the dom would normally provide this care. However, sometimes the circumstance were that the sub could not receive the appropriate aftercare and that was then Gwen's job. She would hug them, provide a blanket and some water, apply any cream if needed, help them to get dressed again and overall, make sure they would not feel alone and abandoned. 

And in that moment, she clicked into her babysitter role at the sight of Merlin scattered on the floor. She threw her shoes on the side and came behind the bar bare feet, careful not too fall and held him up, totally oblivious to the situation. Once back on his feet, Merlin was turned around softly by Gwen who examined his back. Still as carefully, she grabbed the bar first aid kit and walked Merlin to one to a dryer area. 

“It's going to hurt a bit okay?” She said, her fingers warmly caressing his arm. She took off several small shards of glass of the size of a grain of rice from Merlin's back before applying some antiseptic on the whole area. Merlin giggled when she reached the bottom of his back, her touch tickling him. 

“You'll be fine!” she smiled and friendly patted him on the shoulder. “We open in fifteen minutes. Better clean this mess.” 

And Merlin did so. Although, once he had mopped everything, he had patiently waited at the end of the bar for the floor to dry. Arthur was long gone, somewhere in the back probably. 

Finally, the first people walked in slowly. No-one had given Merlin a spare shirt, and he was convinced they all did it on purpose. So here he was, shirtless, opening ginger beers and cokes. Life could be so weird sometimes. 

The first twenty minutes went with no problem until Merlin cut the tip of his finger on the bar. There was nothing apart the varnished wood and yet, while cleaning it, he had cut himself. And as he bent down to grab the aid kit, he banged his head on the metal till. He jumped back, his feet not understanding what was going on. As a result, in a incomprehensible movement, he stumbled backward, and ended up half sitting in the bin. 
The noises alerted Leon who came running behind the bar, ready to jump into action, only to see a half dressed bartender folded in half in a bin, rubbing his forehand with one hand, sucking on the finger of the other. 

“What...?” To say Leon was dumbfounded was an understatement. He confusedly glanced around the bar and back to Merlin. “How...?”. The DM was lost for words. At the bar, a blond woman had witnessed the whole ordeal and was trying really hard not to laugh but as her partner gave up and broke into a loud cackle, she followed as well. There was no slave or master at this moment for them, just pure childish joy to laugh at the misery of a tier person, without any real ill intent obviously. 

“Just give me a hand Leon.” Merlin sounded hilariously defeated. He had enjoyed a day free from incidents and it felt like life was ready to make up for it that night. The DM helped the bartender out of the bin and actually placed a plaster on the man's finger. 

And the hour that followed was not better. He managed to pinch his fingers three times in the fridge door, tripped on thin air to many times to even count them, and on one occasion, he had scratched his nipple with the drawer of the till, which made him squeak a bit. 

He was a disaster. Not that anyone scolded him for it, but he felt truly sorry for making such a fool of himself – and by extension the Avalon. Never in his life has his clumsiness been an issue at his workplace but there was a first time for every thing. Most of the people that were here that night just smiled at him, and he even had a quite impressive number of offers. For some reason, they all found him quite endearing. His hair had dried, but was left in weird sugary mess of locks, and his back was scratched – from the glass but none of them knew it- but the most charming thing was that he had no clue he was looking this attractive. He did see the men and woman eating him with their eyes as he methodically counted the change in his palm, or the chatter coming from the bar, describing him as “the ultimate price the Avalon had to offer" and lost in work, he definitely did not see Arthur talking with Leon. 

It’s not that Arthur had ordered Leon to keep an eye on Merlin, or at least it was what he was telling himself. He was not jealous either, but he truly cared about the young man, and did not want him getting into a situation that would make uncomfortable. And as the bartender seemed completely oblivious to the effect he had on the crowd, Arthur thought it would be safer to have Leon being on “Merlin duty”, to stay close enough to hear what people were telling him, to be around and looking like a defensive wolf. 

But god, was Merlin a sexy bastard. Arthur buried his face in his palms, trying to come back to his senses. He had a place to run. 

After two hours, Arthur gave up and grabbed a seat at the back of the front room, and just spent his time watching Merlin work. He could hear the young man laugh time to time despite the music and that sound was warming up his heart, not his cock. It was all becoming much more than any thing he could ever imagined. To the point where he promised himself to ensure that the young man’s smile would never disappear. He could see himself making him breakfast in bed on Sunday mornings, cuddling in front of the telly in the evenings and just be happy in-between. Oh, he felt pathetic. He decided he needed to get out of the bar area and went to the Excalibur room instead, hoping Gwaine and Percy's show would make him forget about Merlin. 

He walked down the corridor, the smell of sweat and leather enveloping him. As he entered the room, he was glad to see that despite the years that passed by, their show was still the main attraction of the Avalon. And truly, Arthur could see why. They were not only good, but they shared this chemistry which made the whole scene something else. 

Gwaine had his usual military leather boots, and nothing else, apart from a simple harness around his chest and latex gloves. The black and silver buckles were contrasting wonderfully with his tanned skin and long brown hair. Percival was spread open on a swing, his arms and ankles restrained and his muscles could be seen rolling beautifully under his skin. His mouth was filled up with the base of a lit candle, which was melting slowly and teasingly on his bare chest. The man moan at every drop falling and his cock could be seen throbbing, begging for Gwaine's intention. His hole was wide open, clenching around the ghost of Gwaine's hand. 

Around him, Arthur could see the people getting at it, from dirty tongue battles to deepthroats. A man tapped him on the shoulder and the blond looked at him for a second. They agreed on a rough blowjob and Arthur clicked his fingers, ordering the man to kneel before him, before throwing a packed condom at him. The man did kneel and extracted Arthur's already hard cock, placed the latex expertly on before swallowing it whole. 

Gwaine clapped his gloved hands together and caressed the inner thighs of the tied up man. He leaned forward and kissed his stomach. 

“You want to be filled up again don’t you?” As an answer, Percy tugged on the swing, trying to move his hips upward. “So needy.” Gwaine shoved his entire lubricated fist inside Percy, making the man moan loudly as his teeth dug into the candle holder. His eyes were shut close and his cock was harder than ever, ready to come any moment. 

Arthur closed his fist in the man's hair, pushing himself deeper in his throat. His impeccable suit was left untouched, only his cock was out and his head resting against the wall. Even in those moments, he was keeping his stature, the arrogant owner who was always controlling himself. Who could feel the man trying his best to please him, but Arthur would not give him the satisfaction to moan. 

Gwaine twisted his wrist slightly and placed himself between Percy’s legs. Holding his strapped legs in place with his elbows, his inserted his second hand halfway, opening the man even more. He spread his hands and inserted himself in between before retrieving one hand to grip Percy’s hip. His cock and his hand in the man, he started to stroke himself slowly, enjoying every muscle twitches around it. His knuckles were white, pushing down the pre-existing bruises on Percy's skin. This was his, he had made those purple circles and he would made sure they would stay there forever. He wanked himself harder, pounding inside the stretched hole. His groans were echoing in the place and as both men were getting closer, the room was filled with men and woman muffled pleasure whines. 

Arthur came, without even a loud exhale. His nameless partner smirked greedily before standing up. They shook hands, and the man offered to come back to him an other day if he wanted more. The blond had simply thanked him, not taking up the offer yet not discarding it. 

Gwaine and Percy came loudly, at the same time, both letting out some animalistic grunts. 

Arthur left the room. The only evidence of being sucked off being a slight redish colouration on his cheeks. He passed behind the bar, grabbing a small piece if chocolate for himself, and letting the whole bunch out for Percy. There were fifteen minutes left on Merlin's shift, and the blond decided he could handle being around for the rest, his empty balls helping a lot. 

Merlin beamed when he saw Arthur back behind the bar. The evening quieting down, he finished to polish the glass he was holding before joining the blond next to the till. He imitated him, back leaned against the counter and arms crossed on his chest. 

“Had a nice evening?” the dark haired man asked, his tone leaving no doubt about what he was implying. 

“I..” Arthur stopped as soon as Merlin exploded into a loud laugh. He was holding his ribs and staring at the blond, as if he were the most ridiculous man on earth, yet one of the seven wonders of the world. Arthur unfolded his arms and glanced at the chocolate wrap still in his hand. He covered his mouth dramatically and looked at Merlin in disbelief. “I got chocolate in my teeth isn’t it?” And Merlin only laughed even more, trying to nod. 
He would deny it until the end of times, but Arthur did laughed as well. A small heartfelt chuckle. And Merlin swore to always remember this sound, which was like a melody to his ears. This was the Arthur he wanted to take out for a drink, the Arthur he wanted to go grocery shopping with, the Arthur we wanted to see every morning when he would wake up. 

The blond weakly punched the bartender on the shoulder and pointed him to take the bins out. When he came back, his shift was done, and Arthur was looking over the sells of the not yet done evening. 

“Arthur?” Merlin's voice was not as assured as usual. The owner of the club turned to him, intrigued. “Do you have something I could wear to not... you know... be half naked on the tube?” he gestured to his torso as to state the obvious. 

He could not tell you why, but Arthur took off his suit jacket and handed it to the bartender. The jacket was slight too large yet Merlin looked handsome in it. Even more so without a shirt on. 

“Great. I look like a high standing escort boy.” 

“Which is a respectable profession.” Arthur replied, half smile in his voice. 

“I know. Your jacket is making consider a reconversion.”

“Shut up Merlin.” 

The young man grinned as the blond just exhaled loudly from his nose, like an amused bull. Merlin grabbed his bag and signed himself off. Just like that, he was gone for the night. 

 

 

Notes:

.... I mean, there is genuinely the word BDSM in the title, don't be shocked ! *blows kisses*

Chapter 3: Different Class

Notes:

Yes, this is turning into a slow burn, and Marx is about to say hi ! Yes, I am no control over this plot line!

Enjoy !

Different Class 

 

It was midnight, or around it maybe. He did not know. It was this time of the night where yesterday was no more but tomorrow was yet to come. The time where nothing and everything matters. Will was laying across the sofa, one arm resting on the carpet, the other somewhere else. He had lost all feelings from his limbs, losing the simple notion of being alive. What was the point of counting how many drinks he had when the answer would always be not enough. A cemetery of empty cans had taken place around his physically dead body, and his eyes trailed off on the ceiling, yellowish and terribly plain. No matter where you are, a ceiling is a ceiling, isn’t it? But this ceiling was taunting him, gauging him and mocking him. 

He rolled on his side, the harsh fabric of the sofa painfully grabbing his skin. Stretching his arm, he grabbed an other can and took a large gulp before spilling it all back out, gagging. Using a can as an ashtray was a trap he had set up for himself and he fell straight for it. He mumbled something and snatched a closed one, rinsing down the cold ash taste. 

What happened? A city full of socialist-pretenders, falsely cultured gits, hypocritical tweed clothed daddy's sons was what happened. Long gone the beer bellied lads whose only joy was to play pool at the pub down the road. Long gone the cigarette stained fingers who would shake to reach an other fag. He was not smart, just booze-clever. Who cares about the last Swedish independent documentary when you can chug a pint in three seconds and stumble dead on the pavement. All those people running after a dream they had yet to figure out, sniffing cocaine to work more to pay for their car they need to go to their job, stuck in a senseless loop where the only thing that matters was the made up pretences they flashed before the eyes of the world to feel better. 

Oh, Will was bitter alright. He had overdosed on this fake life that London had to offer him. Mind you, London gave nothing for free, and this life had cost him every thing. He never wanted to go to university, studying for something that would be no use to him. He missed his da and ma, he missed the simple minded people who would never question anything if a cider was in their hand. He missed only having to worry about whether Old Thomson would survive an other week or not. They all had bet that this old drunken goat would survive them all : alcohol is the greatest preservative.

He had enough of being known as the country boy with his thick Welsh accent, befriended as a trophy by those posh prats always willing to display they had close ties with the working class. His family had not sacrificed their health mining coal so those spoilt fake dandies could parade around the capital pretending the world was going round because of them. Coffees made of ten ingredients but caffeine, advocates of child protection wearing a £120 shirt made by seven years olds from a part of the world they are so keen to forget, if it was not for their stock exchange actions. It was all a big tragic joke we was ready to drown under cider and smoke out. 

He just wanted to spit at the face of the world. To tell everybody to fuck off. In a world where your ideologies, your sexuality, your social status, your wallet and your possessions was like a badge you were meant to pin on your overpriced vegan leather jacket, he just wanted to scream from the bottom of his lungs that society had forgotten him.  His country, his people had discarded him, left to die in a shithole for a flat and a liquid meal to warm him up. What was his due? He did not even know, but clearly, he must be due something. All those intellectuals pretending to solve the western worlds issues with meaningless philosophical like words that no-one , not even them could comprehend, all the while thousands of people where hands deep in mud to feed those pathetic fuddy-duddies without much of a thanks. All those people living through their sexuality, ready to jump at you for nothing ; a world where if you refuse to suck off your mate, you’re an homophobe. A place where the scum of the social ladder suddenly forgot where they were coming from as soon as they get a five digit paycheck. A merry-go-round where the poor paid full price and kicked down after handling the money when the rich got everything thrown at their feet, and a gratuitous blowjob as a thanks. 

Will downed half of his can, on the verge of puking his organs out. It was a miracle that his liver had survived longer that his will to survive in this city. 

He did not move at all when the door opened and Merlin entered. The Bartender dropped his back next to the sofa and wrinkled his nose. 

“For fuck’s sake Will, it bloody stincks in here!” Even the grease smell from the chippy had been swallowed away by the consumed cigarettes and spilt beverages. Merlin strolled with great difficulty, avoiding the cans resting on the floor, and opened the tiny window. Will's eyes scanned his flatmate, before stopping on the jacket and his bare chest. 

“You pathetic chickenshit! Sodding sold out geezer! Cer i grafu! You... Twll tin!” Merlin stared at his friend with widened eyes. He spoke no Welsh but he did not need to to understand those were far from loving words. 

“What’s the matter with you? What’s going on?” The Bartender was speechless. Will had been drinking again and he started to wonder if he even went to university anymore. Moving to London had been hard for both of them but he had thought after some years, Will had found a perfectly balanced life, or at least he looked like. And Merlin felt guilty for not realising his friend was having a breakdown of some sort. 

Will pushed himself into a sitting position and almost dropped head first in the coffee table. He gestured erratically to Merlin, sending splashed of cider from the can he was still holding in his hand. He would probably be buried with a can of cider if it carried on that way. 

“Fucking look at you mate! An Armani jacket? No shirt? Are you getting fucked in a gutter for fifty quid like a good slut whilst your ma can’t afford fresh bread? Is your pretty little mouth aching from all the cock sucking and arse licking?” 

Merlin actually laughed, covering his mouth with the back of his hand. This was ridiculous. His heart ached from seeing Will like that, so bitter consumed and angered at... everything. The lad had always been troublesome but this was a whole new level, even for him. 

“Right. Let’s get you to bed, shall we?” This was not the first time he had to deal with an intoxicated Will and he knew that a good night sleep and a glass of water would bring him back on track. He approached and placed his hand on the man’s shoulder softly. But Will dodged him and jumped straight up, oscillating and losing his balance. He held himself with the help of the furniture. 

“Don’t you touch me! Just... get lost!” 

Merlin did not insist any longer and went to his bedroom, too tired to deal it. 

Back on the sofa, Will clenched his fists. His story was going nowhere, but it sure was going fast. He drank more, only because he could and had the right ; the right to pretend he was doing something with his life. 

Merlin sat on the edge of his single bed and took of Arthur's jacket, folding it nicely on his knees. The Armani label taunted him silently. His eyes locked themselves on his closed door, imagining what was Will doing. His bitterness had left a sour taste in Merlin's mouth. They were from the same background, went through the same dinner-less week ends, the paperboy jobs so their parents could pay the bills until the next month, the guilt of wanting a new pair of jeans to go to school when their mothers had to walk to work once again, not able to afford a single drop of petrol. 

But as the years went by, Merlin knew he had worked hard. Living on caffeine and twenty minutes naps just so his mom could sleep soundly at night. And this job at Avalon was nothing more than that ; a job. Nowhere was it written than one could not enjoy himself at work. He felt pity for Will, the lad who would refuse to move his backside to get a job and yet would spit on the system for being broke and not getting help. 

He passed a hand through his hair and the other mindlessly caressed the jacket. 

He woke up at the sound of his alarm the next morning, curled up on his bed, holding on to the jacket, his shoes and trousers still on. Grumbling, he turned the alarm off and strolled to the bathroom. He quickly peaked in the living room, and he could see Will’s hand, inert on the carpet, sadly satisfied in his alcohol induced coma. 

He jumped in the shower, spending too much time washing away the tonic water residue in his hair. When he walked back in his room and glanced at his phone, he realised he took way too long in the shower and rushed into his clothes – the same damn pair of jeans that he should really wash by now and a purple t-shirt – and stormed our of the flat, snatching his brown jacket and messenger back on his way. 

As he walked as quickly as he could to the bus stop,  the cold morning breeze made him way too aware of his lack of scarf. He tried to warm up by breathing into his hands and rubbing them, mumbling that obviously : the bus had to be late that day. 

When the bus finally appeared at the end of the street, Merlin was half-human, half-icecube. He got in eagerly, not bothering to grab a sit for the few minutes his ride was. He finally got down and practically bounced to the Rising Sun, coming through  the doors as his breath still fogged around his face. 

“It's bloody icy out there!” Merlin exclaimed, rushing to make himself a cup of tea.

“Next time, don’t go out with wet hair then.” Gaius gave him his signature eyebrow. 

“Good point!” He had his hands nestled against the cup, and was eagerly smelling the earl grey fragrance. Within the next half hour, he was fully warmed up as he juggled with frothing milk, making espresso shots, grumbling about bloody decaf, bagging pastries and getting angry at the soy milk which always seemed to not be where it’s supposed to be. 

Sure thing, being in a rush and getting an order such as “decaf extra shot mocha with skimmed milk, no foam and extra hot" was a bother, but Merlin actually found those orders quite satisfying to make, simply because he had the possibility to be all smuggy whilst handing over the order made to perfection. And even if he was too busy to even check the time, he would always make each drink to perfection. And indeed, he did not have to spend those extra two seconds to make coffee art but he could just not help himself. And he was quick and efficient, and the smiles he got in exchange were always worth it, so he would never not do it. But what he preferred was when it was quieting down, and he could actually take the time to make 3D art for his regulars. He did not know why, but he always found comfort in a bear made of frothy milk. It was probably his most endearing quality : the child inside him had never left. What was so marvellous about marshmallows or a perfectly shaped muffin? No-one knew, but to Merlin, it was enough to brighten his day. 

He was talking with two old ladies, who were always sweetly inquiring about his studies, when he stopped right in his track. Arthur had just walked in. Arthur from Avalon. Arthur who had nothing to do in this part of the city, with his overpriced suit and fifty quid haircut. Mind you, this was not Mile End but it was not  exactly Kensington either. 

“Excuse me ladies.” Merlin left their table and rushed back behind the bar. He felt like a giddy teenager for some reasons and he harboured a stupid grin that made his cheeks hurt. 

And that specific stupid grin caught Arthur's intention. For a split second, he did not believe his own eyes. Merlin was in that café, working. The blond checked his watch and glanced back at Merlin. Did the man ever sleep? He had heard something about university as well, and he was utterly dumbfounded. He walked to the counter, not without looking around, feeling slightly out of place, as if he was stepping out of his comfort zone. 

“Good morning.” Arthur had not find anything else to say. Mostly because all his thoughts were occupied by the coffee stains on Merlin's apron, the buttery smell coming from the pastry display on the bar, and the sheer cuteness of the whole picture. This was too much to bear for him – and his heart. It was one thing to see Merlin at the Avalon where the atmosphere was prone to sexual fantasies but here, at the Rising sun? Nope. Domestic fantasies were too dangerous. In the time it took him to walk up to the bar and talk, he had time to wonder what was Merlin favourite hot beverage, if he had any allergies and if so, he would have to be careful when baking for him. He wondered if Merlin was more of a morning shower type of guy, or an evening one. Would Merlin be the kind to stretch his whole body in the sofa, or instead he would curled himself up like a cat? Did Merlin like cats? He sure looked like an animal lover, maybe even an activist. Was he vegetarian? He needed to look up recipes for vegetarian lasagne at some point. 

“Hello!” Arthur snapped back to reality, leaving his veggie cooking daydreaming on the side. He cleared his throat and felt his cheeks blushing slightly. Merlin eyed him, intrigued. “What can I get you?” The barista leaned slightly on the counter, planting his palm on top of it. To be fair, it was mostly to not lose his countenance. 

“Just a...” Arthur checked the beverage list above Merlin and squinted his eyes. “A...”. Merlin stared at him, almost giggling. “I'll have a...” Arthur was imploding inside. He tried his best to speak, to actually form some kind of sentence but nothing came out of his mouth.

“Shall I just surprise you?” The barista pushed himself back on his feet and emptied the coffee handle. 

“Yes.” The blond exhaled, relieved. Truth being, he was not someone who spent a lot of time in cafés or any other kind of places, and despite what the people might think, he was quite socially awkward. Mostly because he grew up in what could be considered the remains of British nobility and as such, you don’t grab your coffee at the nearest Costa : you get your beans imported from Madagascar and your butler brews it for you. The Avalon was different : it was his, and he was in charge, like he always had been. Being in charge was easier. It was all about control. 
But here, he was lost. And bumping into Merlin had not helped him, at all. 

“Alright, grab a seat. I’ll be over in a second.” And here was the stupid grin again. If a heart could have blue balls, then Arthur's definitely was suffering from it. He sat by the window, and tried his best to not look at the bar. Hopefully, Morgana would be here soon to distract him. 

By the coffee machine, the little cogs in Merlin's brain were overworking. What could Arthur be drinking? He checked his syrups, his tea selection, his milk collection. Chai tea, Mocha, Frappe, Matcha. Even if he was an experienced barista, he found himself having a coffee-block. The cogs had stopped turning and if you were attentive, you could hear the wind hustling in his mind. It was empty. Blank. He stood, the coffee handle in his hand, and questioned his whole existence. It was only when he glanced back at the blond that a little lightbulb appeared above his head. He made the drink and placed it on the saucer before staring at the little wrapped chocolates and biscuits in the bar nearby. He snatched a wrapped chocolate truffle and added it on the plate.

He walked to Arthur’s table and put down the coffee, before giving the man a bow. 

“Your coffee, sir.” Arthur rolled his eyes as Merlin burst into a fit of laughter and went back behind the bar. This was so different, so painfully normal. And for the first time, the “sir" went straight to his heart, not his cock. 

He looked down and hid his smile with the back of his hand, looking outside of the window. A black coffee. A simple, classic black coffee. It was perfect. And Arthur could not stop smiling. And when his eyes caught the sight of the chocolate, he stopped pretending and beamed from ear to ear. 

As he was drying the clean cups, Merlin bit his bottom lips, knowing he made the right decision. The tip of his ear turned two shades redder but he did not care. However, all his attention was suddenly on the woman who had just pushed the door of the café. Oh, she was stunning. Her long black hair was a worthy of a deity and her beautiful dark green dress make her eyes stand out almost unnaturally. The click clacks of her Louboutin was like an ode to her beauty. He had spent enough time in museums to recognise that in an other life, she would have been the muse to many great names. 

And Merlin was not at all surprised to see her sit at Arthur's table. The Rising Sun was not offering table service, but he felt compelled to go over and take her order. 

“Good morning. What can I get you?” Her smile was sly yet genuine, which sent shivers down his spine. 

“Hi. Same please.” She gestured to Arthur's cup, her blood red nails immaculate. 

Merlin left to make to prepare the coffee and Arthur's eyes might or might not have followed the barista. 

“Alright, dear brother. We need to talk.” She leaned back in her chair, smirking. 

“I had guessed that. I just don’t see why you chose this place, or this part of the city for the matter.” He blew on his coffee before taking a sip. It was a damn good coffee.

“Well. I found this really nice building just down the road, and I believe it would be perfect for an art gallery. And I would like your opinion.” She thanked Merlin who just approached with her coffee before looking at him from head to toe. “Do you know the area?” she asked nonchalantly. Arthur looked at his sister and back at the barista. 

“I do yes.” Merlin glanced at the blond, intrigued. As a reply, Arthur just shrugged slightly. 

“There’s a building up for sale by the Sainsbury's and I would like to acquire it. Do you believe an Art gallery would be a nice addition to the street?” Arthur couldn’t stop staring at his sister. Morgana was the most confident person he had ever met and to have her asking for people’s opinion was quite a sight. 

“It would depend.” Merlin started, thoughtful. “I know a lot of students are renting rooms around, and this is quite an artsy area. I can say without a doubt that finding artists for exhibitions would be easy. As for clientele, you would definitely attract a crowd. But money wise, I don’t see how you could make a profit. We are all struggling to put food on our table here, so I doubt the neighbourhood would spend a penny on Art.” Morgana nodded along the words. As for Arthur, he was drowning himself under Merlin’s flow of words. “Now, I can see a real potential. But you would definitely have to consider that the first years, you would have to inject money yourself. Your margin would be neutral or even negative, especially if you are planning on employing people. I’ve heard that they are more projects being discussed for the area, so it might develop into something more business attractive within the next ten years. As for now, apart from pubs and chippies, there’s no much to go on. So really? It's a bet : invest in it now and it might not work, or wait for an other opportunity in a few years, risking to pay triple the amount but with the certainty it would work, speculating that the area would be thriving by then obviously.” 

Morgana was pleased with his answer and stirred her coffee. Arthur, on the other hand, was mesmerized by Merlin. The young man had proved to be great as his job – clumsiness aside – and had a witty mind but this was entirely different ; this had been almost wise.

As if Merlin could read the blond’s mind, he turned to him and raised his eyebrow almost triumphantly, before disappearing once again behind the bar to serve the people that had just walked in. 

“What is this about?” Arthur finally asked his sister. “You never cared about what I thought, and even less what a simple barista thought.” He regretted his last words as soon as they escaped his mouth. He hoped that Merlin would not have heard him but a quick glance at the barista proved him wrong. Merlin stared at him, his expression angered if not saddened. The barista prepared the next order, smashing every utensils a bit too harshly, and faking his best smile. 

“I simply don’t want to mess this up.” She replied, hiding her mysterious smile behind her cup of coffee. 

“Morgana...” Arthur pressed, knowing there was more. She brought the cup down and crossed her legs, and furtively looked down before staring back at her brother. 

“I am leaving Father's company. He doesn’t believe I will make a name for myself. So I’ll prove him wrong. And to do so, I need something big and risky. Mr perfect coffee is right. This is a bet. But if it pays off, it will be worth it.” She spoke as a matter of fact. 

“You are leaving Father's company?” Arthur had almost chocked when she had said it. As the head of human resources, Morgana had a secure job, and the paycheck to go with it. And he knew that Uther had long planned for her to take over once he would retire, and up to that day, he was sure she would indeed follow Uther's path. 

“I am. The man is good with trading and Camelote LTD has beautiful days ahead but at what cost? Using to the core resources around the globe, modern slavery, morally gray methods... All those things don’t matter to Uther, but I can’t keep a blind eye anymore.” She spat those last words, her bitterness for her father transpiring through every of her breath. 

“So you are leaving.” 

“Yes.” 

The rest of the discussion was nothing more than numbers and projections about the theoretical art gallery. A shy ten minute later, Arthur stood up to pay for the drinks as Morgana had a booked visit of the building, and she wished for him to accompany her. He grabbed the empty cups and made his way to the counter. 

“Five twenty.” Merlin had discarded the cups by the washing area and spoke blankly, without even a look for the blond. 

“Listen Merlin, it’s not what I meant.” The blond sighed as he handed a tenner. “keep the change alright?” 

“Keep the change.” Merlin repeated, bitter. He huffed and threw the change on the bar. 

“Don’t... Merlin. You know what I meant.” 

“I’m sorry. Just a simple barista. You are too smart for me to understand what you mean.” If Merlin was cute when smiling, he was terrifying when he was angry. His jaw was clenched and his eyes were empty. 

“For God’s sake Merlin, don’t be an idiot would you? It’s just that my sister is not really known to ask around for advice, and for her to ask something this important to what appears to her as just a ‘simple barista’ was quite a shock to me. It was nothing bad towards you.”  Arthur had kept calm, only pained to think he might have ruined everything. 

“I'd rather be an idiot than a posh prat.” It was said in a mumble but Arthur heard it clearly. 

“And I’d rather be a posh prat than a clumsy loaf.” 

“Oi!” Merlin shouted, his lips curling into a thin smile. 

“I'll see you tonight then?” His voice betrayed him. What was meant to just a question sounded like a plead, a hopeful thought. 

“Yeah... of course.” Merlin rolled his eyes, still annoyed but clearly amused as well. 

Arthur joined Morgana on the pavement and they both left. She saw the exchange, but to Arthur's relief, she did not questioned him. 

Inside, Merlin looked at the change that the blond left on the counter. Almost a fiver. It would be enough for either a pack of cider, or more than a dozen tins. He thought about the Armani jacket folded on his bed, about his oyster card which only had two journeys left, about Arthur's cologne, about his deodorant almost running out. He looked down and glanced at his Primark t-shirt before letting his eyes trailed off where the blond was sitting just few minutes ago, in his perfectly tailored suit. 

He grabbed a wet cloth and got back to work, cleaning tables and rearranging chairs around. But something was bugging him. Tentatively, he popped his head through the small kitchen door where Gaius was busy with the preparation of the wraps of the day. 

“Tell me, where do you draw the line between altruism and charity work?” 
“What do you mean?” The old man had put down the shredded carrots to give all his attention to the young man. But Merlin only shook his head. 

“Nothing. Forget it.” And just like that, he went back to work. Gaius nodded confusedly, and went back to his preps. 

The rest of the shift went without further incidents, however Merlin’s smile was not as bright as it used to be. 

On his way to uni, he was tired. Exhausted even. He attended his classes without paying much attention. His mind was somewhere else, but he did not know where. Thoughts about his mother, Will, his financial situation, his future, his past, his choices : a mix of all and nothing. A trail a thought lacking purpose. Well. There was one purpose : avoiding any thoughts regarding Arthur. 

It was not that he was angry at him. Not even hurt per se. It was almost as if reality had slapped back on his feet. Arthur and he were from different worlds, and their meeting outside the Avalon had just proven that. When Merlin had to work two jobs to even hope to be able to pay the bills, Arthur and Morgana could discuss buying a whole building in London like you would discuss getting a side of coleslaw at the pub. Yet, it was not this difference of class that bothered him. No, it was the fact that he could not hate them for it. He had been born in poverty, his only richness being the love of his mother. Arthur had been born in a gold coated blanket.  No one choses their birth rights and you don't knock on your father's bollocks to come to life. That he knew for sure. Only what you would do with your life afterwards mattered, if only something mattered in the end. 

“Shut up"Merlin mumbled under his breath to himself. 

He did not know what he was babbling about anymore. Truth being, he still wanted to shag the blond. Simple as that. The rest did not matter to him. 

At six o'clock, he stopped by his flat. Will was not there anymore, however the living room was still a mess. He opened the fridge and grabbed a can, downing half of it. Right. Time to slowly get ready for his shift. 

He stared at his wardrobe for a while. He wanted to make Arthur mad with desire. Not only mad, but completely out of his mind. To have the pretty rich boy drooling over the simple barista. That’s when he saw the Armani jacket still folded on his bed. That was it. 

He seized a pair of low waist black skinny jeans and his belt. After some consideration, he decided to not wear any underwear. Right above the rim of his trousers, his hip bones were sharp and a trail of black hair was stopped by the fabric right before his whole outfit could be considered soft pornography. He took off his t-shirt and slid on the jacket, bare chest. 

Decided to look devilishly good from head to toe, he dug in his wardrobe and retrieved a shoe box. He held the formal leather shoes before his eyes and smirked. Once his outfit was complete, he checked himself out in the bathroom, quite satisfied.
 However, something was missing. He snapped his fingers before snatching an old spray bottle. He squeezed some foam in his palm and rubbed his hands together, before styling his hair. It was starting to be this length where it was curling up slightly and he was determined to make it as sexily messy as possible. When he was satisfied, he passed his fingers on his cheeks, and took the decision to not shave and instead to keep the light shadow on his jaw. 

At eight, he was out of the door. Capitals were funny like that : you could be dressed like a man slut on the tube, and yet you were still blending in. Merlin thought about his home village and how good old Mr Smythe, always standing  by the corner shop, would probably sign to the holy trinity by just seeing him walking down the road like that. He laughed to himself at the thought.

At quarter to nine, he passed the door to the Avalon. He discarded this bag at its usual place – which was on a shelf under the till – and grabbed a bottle of water. He said hi to Gwen who was once again nose deep in paperwork at the bar and chatted with her for a few minutes. Leon joined them not long after, and they talked about mostly nothing. Well, not nothing : it appeared that Leon had a strong opinion about Gregg's sausage rolls. They were amazing and no one could change his mind. He was currently munching on one, leaving crumbs all over the counter. As a mechanical habit, Merlin grabbed a cloth and cleaned it, and the DM thanked him, mouth full. 

Finally, Merlin signed himself in and started his shift. Well, he kept chatting while restocking the fridges but that counted as working. 

“Hey Merlin, you haven't visited the back rooms yet right?” Leon casually asked. 

“Nope and I kinda like the thrill of not knowing.” He placed his elbows on the bar and rested his chin on his hands, batting his eyelashes at the DM. “But if you're offering?” Leon leaned towards Merlin and mimicked his position. 

“Maybe I am.” Both men laughed loudly. It was common knowledge that Leon was straight, and they had this game within the employees to see who could make him blush, but Leon always had the last word. The DM was confident enough in his sexuality to flirt back with the guys with no problem, and he was taking great pleasure in doing so. 

“Right. I got work to do!” The DM said, slamming his hand on the bar as to motivate himself. 

For the next half hour, Gwen and Merlin worked in a comfy silence, doing their pre-opening routine. And as usual, Gwaine stormed in the club. 

“Guys! I got some great news! I got Percy and I a special gig at the Torture Garden next week! Damn Merlin! Look at you!” Gwaine strolled towards the bar like a cannibalistic horny...cannibal. He pushed himself up and sat on the bar, pivoting his body to rest his legs on the lower counter on Merlin's side. “Now, I’m that close to ask Percy permission to shag you.” 

Merlin placed himself between Gwaine’s leg and stared at his crotch before meeting his eyes. 

“Do it.” Merlin's voice was raspy and daring. And Gwaine just went three shades lighter. The bartender ended up slapping the long haired man's thigh. “Now your pretty backside off my bar.” 

“Your bar? Is it now?” Arthur had appeared next to the till. Merlin never seen him walking in so he guessed the blond must have been in the back of something. Gwaine slid off the counter and went to Percy who had just walked in. Merlin smirked at Arthur, who did not even looked at him and slowly walked to him, before resting his back on the counter. They were mere inches apart, their shoulders almost touching. 

“Privilege of the bartender : claiming the bar as his own.” Merlin crossed his arms on his chest as he spoke, head tilted in the blond's direction. 

“Privilege of the owner : claiming the bartender as his own.” Gwaine's voice raised from the entrance. Arthur turned around and looked at him with killer eyes, but Gwaine was back to talking with his partner, as if he never said anything. Although the blond could see that Percy gave Gwaine a scolding – yet still amused- look.  He just hoped that no-one would realised he was blushing, because Arthur Pendragon does not blush. 

Merlin pretended to get rid of a lint on Arthur's jacket, and leaned even closer, just enough to whisper in the blond's ear. 

“Would you like to claim me, sir?” It was barely a whisper at this point. A pleading litany, an offer, a tease, a challenge. Arthur closed his eyes, too aware of Merlin's body so close to his. The bartender gave him a small chuckle, his breath sending shivers down Arthur's spine – and blood down his cock but he tried his best not to think about that. Before the blond could even reply, Merlin went back to whatever he was doing. Turned out that Merlin decided to clean the bottom glass shelf. He was on his knees, scrubbing the metallic surface and being really conscientious about making it spotless. Arthur bit his bottom lips and really hoped that no-one heard his muffled moan. He could not think straight anymore, and it took all his will power to not grab the bartender and screw him on the bar. Because this was not how he did things. If he were to ever shag Merlin, he was gonna make him pay for all the teasing. If Merlin wanted to play this game, then the game was on. 

The blond kneeled by the bartender, and allowed his eyes to indulge in the pretty sight. The light stubble, the messy hair, the marble skin. He expected Merlin to be cold under his fingers, the ultimate proof that he had been sculpted in a block of ivory. But instead, Arthur searched in his pocket for a chocolate wrap, and threw it on the spotless shelf. The bartender stopped abruptly, gaze focused on the shiny paper. 

Arthur let his hand caress down Merlin's back, before grabbing him by the waist and pulling him towards him. 

“You've missed a spot.” It was a growl, echoing in Merlin's ear. The dark haired man closed his eyes, melting under Arthur's touch. His fingers were painfully digging in his waist, the blond's grip being desperate, refusing to let go. 

“I must have indeed.” Merlin’s voice was barely audible, his breathing almost gone. He dared to glance in Arthur's direction furtively, only to met two hungry eyes harboured by a smug face. The bartender smirked, deciding not to let him be so pleased with himself. He crawled, planting his palms on the cold metal and half his body disappeared under the bar. He felt Arthur's hand dropping from his waist to his hip, his thigh, his knee before leaving him completely. He seized the wrap inbetween his teeth and slid out of the small space, kneeling ceremonially. His hands were on his knees, his back was straight and proud. Arthur had stood up and was now looking down at Merlin. He was gorgeous. His trousers were slightly dusty, his cheeks had blushed up a little and his blue eyes were challenging. 

Merlin stayed there, on his knees, watching Arthur loosing his composure at each passing seconds. 

“We open in five minutes guys alright?” Leon shouted from the corridor, pointing his finger at Arthur in a really tacky manner, let’s be honest. 

Merlin pushed himself back on his feet and dusted his knees. With two fingers, he grabbed the chocolate wrapping from in-between his teeth and placed a kiss on it, before slamming it on Arthur's chest, palm flat. 

“Dark chocolate. My favourite.” And Merlin walked away. Arthur was left stunned for a few seconds, and he ended up exhaling loudly which made his whole body deflate like a sad balloon. Which he currently was. A horny deflated balloon which really needed a bathroom break and possibly a new bartender. The blond looked around again, realising that Merlin had  the audacity to walk out on him behind the bar – bar where Merlin was meant to be working. 

Arthur cleared his throat. “Right. Work.” And left, not without glancing at the bar a few times. Merlin could be seen appearing again, holding a box in his arms, slowly groaning under its weight, before completing his restock. Consciously or not, both men avoided each other all evening. 

Notes:

I am gonna specialised in sexual frustration writings *flips table* JUST KISS ALREADY!

-but you are the writer Morrie..

-I... Listen.

*exits the room*

Chapter 4: Sorted for Whizz

Notes:

Tw : drug use

Also, plot line? What plot line? I'm going where this fic takes me man, and I have no clue where it's taking me *mild panic*

Sorted for Whizz 

 

The next morning, Merlin woke up with a bitter sweet taste in his mouth, torn between anger and lust for his boss. He hated the man for all the luxury he represented, and yet all his thoughts were flooded with Arthur in obscene scenarios, making him spiral down into madness. 

Looking at his phone, he mumbled at the time. It was his day off and yet here he was, fully awake at barely half past six. Although, he thanked the gods for having a day off, a real day off, for the first time in months. Gaius had given him the morning off at the rising Sun, he had no class to attend and no shifts at the Avalon either. However, he quickly found himself lost with so much time to spare. 

He sat on the edge of his bed and rubbed his face, wiping off the last glimpse of sleepiness in his body. Sighing, he looked at the pile of dirty clothes in the corner and came to the realisation that his day will most likely be spent doing chores. Great. 

Stumbling to the bathroom, he groaned at the locked door. Instead, he strolled to the kitchen and turned the kettle on. A cacophony of opened and closed cupboards later, Merlin whined, defeated. 

“Will!” he shouted, already done with his day. 

“Give me a sec mate!” will said, his voice almost inaudible. Merlin could hear the toilet flush a few times, and Will swearing words he did not even know existed. In a moment of altruism, he knocked on the bathroom door. 

“You're alright?” 

“I... yeah. I’m producing more alcohol than I drank I swear. Fuck me mate, I'm a brewery.” His laugh was cut short as his stomach decided to empty itself once more. 

“Well die an other day! I need to take a piss.” 

The door opened after a while, and a overly pale Will appeared, eyes watering and coughing his lungs out. 

“Pee in the sink. I’m married to the toilet now.” The last words were rushed as will threw himself on his knees, embracing the toilet bowl as if his life depended on it. 

“Tell me there’s still coffee mate.” Merlin asked, finally relieving himself. 

“Nope. And coffee is a sham. Supposed to help with hungover, my arse!” 

“Oh fuck.” 

Washing his hands, Merlin looked down at his flatmate, and made a mental bet that Will would probably swear never to drink again, only to find him with a can in hand the next day. 

“Mate. No more booze. I don’t want to hear about alcohol ever again.” 

Bingo. Merlin laughed at his mate, letting out a really unconvinced ‘sure'. He settled down for a cup of tea then, black. Although there was milk in the fridge, he refused to touched it, mostly because he was pretty certain that milk was not meant to be solid. 

With no high hopes, he checked the small bowl where sometimes few pounds were resting. Well, 75p. He walked back to his bedroom and emptied all his pockets. £2.20. Well, better than nothing. As a last resort, he striped the sofa from all cushion, only to find a few £1 coins. Mid-celebration, he realised those were old ones and therefore, unusable. Just his luck. He ended up with £4.37 in his hand, a suspicious looking small plastic pouch and what looked like the remains of a wheatabix. 

He let himself fall on the sofa, already exhausted at the idea of hand washing his clothes. 

“Oh please... Tell me..." he jumped on his feet and frantically opened the smallest cupboards only to find they were out of washing powder. “of course.” It took him a shockingly small amount of time to decide that dish soap will do then. 

Will finally appeared in the living room, only wearing his underwear and sweating like he ran a marathon. But even in his state, he saw the small pouch on the table in less than a second. 

“There’s a god then.” Will sat on the carpet and emptied the content on a DVD box. “Where d'ya get that mate?” 

“In the sofa.” Merlin replied, slamming the cupboard door. 

“Even better.” Will cut a line, using the cardboard remains of his Strongbow box.  “Want one?” 

Merlin stared at him for a while. The smell coming from the sink reminded him of a dead body and the stains on the carpet could corroborate that thought. Few lads could be heard shouting in the street. The boiler rumbled in the next room, mimicking his stomach. “Fuck. Go on then.” 

The bartender sat on the floor next to his friend, and rolled an old Tesco receipt. 

“Am sorry by the way" Will spoke without looking at Merlin, focused on his lines. “For what I said.” 

“Wanker.” 

“Oi!” 

“Don’t even have the balls to stand up by your convictions then?” Merlin teased him, sliding the DVD box towards him. 

“Nah mate.” 

“Shame, cause I could make a damn good rent boy.” Merlin coughed slightly, pinching his nose. “What the fuck is that?”

“Speed, I think. Don’t know. Don’t care.” 

Merlin bitterly laughed. He did not hate his life, not really. He just wished he could see a future. Well, he could see a future, which included burying Will, selling his pretty arse, burying his mom, and getting stabbed in a back alley, all the while having a PhD in history. What a great life. 

They talked about all and nothing, not even knowing if they were arguing or agreeing. It was Merlin’s phone ringing which stopped the conversation. The young man looked around, confused. No-one was ever calling him, apart to ask him if he had recently been involved in an accident. Scams phone calls were his social life. He pouted at the unknown number and picked up. 

“Yeah?” 

“Merlin?” The young man looked at his phone stupidly, as if his screen could tell him who was the woman calling him. 

“Yeah, it’s me.”

“Great! I asked Gaius for your number, I hope it’s alright.” 

“Pardon me, but who’s speaking?” Will was gesturing around, silently asking Merlin what was going on. The young man only mouthed ‘i dont know’ in return, making Will shrug. 

“Oh sorry. Morgana Lefay. We spoke yesterday at the Rising sun. I just wanted to know if you would be willing to visit the building I wish to purchase with me this morning.” 

“I.. What?”

“Well, I thought your expertise yesterday was quite pertinent, and I wish to have your opinion on the building itself.” 

“Well.. Yeah, sure. Why not. Just er... text me a time and place and I’ll be there.” 

“Thank you.” 

He hanged up, and few seconds later, his phone vibrated with a new text. 

“What was that about?” Will enquired, ever so confused. 

“I have no fucking clue.” Merlin read the text and threw his phone by his side. “I got to meet a woman I don’t know to visit a building up for sale in an hour. Talk about a way to get murdered. She'll stab me with her Louboutin or something.” 

“Before being brutally killed, pass me a fag.” 

Merlin did, and looked at his phone, thoughtful. If it could make him avoid the hand wash session, then he'll go. He laughed at his clear lack of self-preservation. 

Half an hour later, Merlin was dressed and ready to go. He downed his cold cup of tea and grabbed his messenger bag. Will slid an other line in front of Merlin. “One last for the road mate!”.

“Ta!”

 As the door was shutting, he could hear Will shouting. “I'll make sure to piss on your grave.” 

Merlin laughed and descended the stairs two by two, slightly crashing on the entrance door. He stopped a second to take a breath, ready to meet Morgana or whatever her name was, while high and exhausted. 

He walked down the street, looking for the Sainsbury’s there were meant to meet by. He actually saw her before he saw the bright orange sign. She was wearing a three pieces burgundy suit over a black shirt and her hair was tied up in the most perfect ponytail he had ever seen. She looked so out of place in that street and yet, she looked liked she owned it. Although Merlin thought this was not far from the truth. 

“Ah. Merlin.” She greeted him, strangely cheerful. She kissed both of his cheeks before proudly pointing on the other side of the street. “What do you think?” 

“Hi... er... What do I think of what? I mean, it’s a great outfit you have there yeah and... lovely manicure... really makes the colour of your eyes... pop?” 

“No! Well yes, you’re not wrong. But I meant the building there.” She laughed softly, quite amused by Merlin's ridiculous awkwardness. 

“The... Oh. Oh!” Merlin almost choked. The building. This woman was looking into buying the old paper mill. The 30 000 square feet of it.  “It's... big.” 

“Massive I would say. And a lot of refurbishing. It has been left untouched for almost half a century.” She said proudly. Merlin tried to do the math quickly, and that building was probably on the market for more than ten millions. They were in London after all. He felt almost dizzy. 

“Yeah, it was deserted after the second world war.” He stated, voice flat. He was lost for words. 

“Was it?” she turned back to him, interested. “Do you know much about it then?” 

“Well yes. It was built around the 1800’s and up until 1939, it was the main paper provider of the capital. Every single newspaper pages was made here. The building was commissioned during the war and used as a hospital for a while, before the resistance took over it, using it as their radio center, and main leaflet printing facility. Some says Churchill himself walked within those walls.” 

“Lovely. Shall we?” She grabbed Merlin's arm and crossed the road. A man was standing there, folder in hand. The man and Morgana exchanged few polite words before entering the paper mill. Still confused, Merlin leaned slightly towards her. 

“It's all wonderful, but what am I doing here?” 

“My brother was of no help yesterday. I could do with more than a ‘Yeah, it’s good’ if you know what I mean.” She laughed, strolling down the immense open space. 

“Arthur’s your brother?”

She stopped in her track and looked at him from head to toe. His brown jacket was shapeless, his trousers were stained with at least three different unidentified things, his hair was ridiculously messy, although she could see he had tried to comb it, and his messenger bag could have seen better days. His bright blue eyes were looking at her in disbelief and she was convinced she must have the same look on her face. 

“You know Arthur? I would never have guessed he was the kind to hang at a place such as the Rising sun.” She said, more to herself than to Merlin. 

“He's not. He’s my boss. I am locked in an empty paper mill with my boss’ sister! That’s just great. Bugger.” He rubbed his face, lost for words. He started to pace around, almost manically. It was in that moment that he realised he was also quite high. Great. So much for the cute innocent bartender. What was it already? Speed? Merlin was almost having a panic attack at this point. He also really wanted to hug Morgana and apologise. With his luck, it was probably MDMA. Fuck. He took a deep breath and tried not to run away. He must have looked really distraught for Morgana walked towards him, a concerned look on her face. Merlin started to sweat and breath quickly, muttering a series of ‘shite'. 

“You're ok?”  

“I...Fuck.” 

He held his nose, hit by a dark realisation. 

“Call 999!” he ended up shooting at the woman who did immediately. 

“What’s wrong?” she asked as the phone was ringing but before she could get an answer, Merlin dropped on his knees. Despite her apparent calm, Morgana was panicking. 

Merlin could hear every echoes in the building, his heartbeat was so loud he thought he could become deaf just from it. The light coming from the old small squared windows was blinding him. He did not know where Morgana was. She could have been right by his side or gone, he could not tell. He rolled on his side, wishing for it all to stop. Everything was too much. 

“I...Fuck. Morgana?” he whispered, panicked. 

“An ambulance is coming. It’s alright.” Her voice almost cracked. 

“I'm... I'm...” His whole body trembled. The floor was too rough, too cold. Her high heels were too loud. “...OD'ing?” He looked at nothing, horrified, waiting for someone, anyone, to tell him that he was not going to die just yet. 

---

“Where is he?” Arthur rushed to his sister who was pacing in front of the hospital. 

“He's fine. They are taking care of him.” She tried to sound calm, but failed. 

“What happened?” His blond hair were a mess and he was only wearing an old black tee shirt and a pair of jeans. He had jumped into his car as soon as his sister had called him, not caring about even taking a jacket. 

“I think he overdosed?” Morgana said those words incredulously, looking for any clue on Arthur's face. However, the blond was equally shocked. 

“Merlin?” He was angry, confused but mostly... sad. “No way. Merlin?” He did not wait for an answer from his sister and stormed in, enquiring about his employee whereabouts. He was given a room number and strolled down the corridor, a heavy weight in his stomach. 

Without knocking, he entered the room, where Merlin was laying on the bed, looking exhausted. 

“Care to explain?” He did not mean to come across as angry, but he could not help himself. 

“Arthur. It’s fine. I did not overdosed. It’s all good.” Merlin said, sitting up. From all the person he wished to see right now, Arthur was last on the list. 

“That’s not... that’s not the point?” Arthur sat down on the chair in the corner, elbows perked on his knees. “You should have told me you were using. For your own safety, and the safety of my customers.” 

“It’s not like that. I’m not using Arthur! Listen. It was my day off, I had a shitty morning, could not even afford to do a fucking laundry, I’m fucking exhausted, haven’t had a proper meal for I don’t know how long and I found some speed or whatever and my mate and I thought ‘why the fuck not’ cause we got nothing better to do! Turned out, don’t do drugs when sleep deprived and famished. But I don’t count on you to understand yeah? So no. I did not actually overdosed. Just fucking overamped, whatever the fuck that means.” 

“Cause getting a fix only on your day off sounds so much better?” Arthur tried to understand but it seems Merlin was right, he could not. He could not comprehend that for lack of a better things to do, people would turn to drugs. “There’s a dozen other things to do if you were bored Merlin.” 

The young man only have a dry laugh as an answer. 

“You really don’t get it.” Merlin finally said, almost amused more than angry. He laid down again, letting his head fall on the pillow. “What a wonderful world you must be living in.” He turned on his side to face the blond. “Although, I’m not sure I envy you.” 

“Indeed, it seems I really don’t get it.” Arthur frowned, trying to put the pieces together, under Merlin's gaze. For a split second, he thought he could see pity in the dark haired man’s eyes. “Alright.” He stood up and left the room. 

Merlin sighed, knowing he had most than likely lost his job. He still had a pile of resumes in his bag, and he had not worked enough at the Avalon to have to update it. He could just pretend the whole thing never happened. In retrospect, hand washing his clothes with dish soap would have been less worse. He grabbed his phone and send a quick text to Will to check on him. With how his day was going, he would be half surprised to find his mate dead on the carpet at this point. Great. Organising a funeral was the last thing he wanted. Was he just supposed to walk in a funeral house and say “I have a dead body.”? Or should he call the police first? Oh god, he would have to contact Will's family. And probably move the body back to Wales, cause Will would haunt him if he dared bury him in London. Oh fuck. 

His phone vibrated, cutting short his funeral planning session. Of course Will was fine. No amount of E or whizz could end that lad. Merlin laughed to himself. He was exhausted. 

The door to his room opened again, and Arthur walked back in. He seized Merlin's messenger back and his jacket. “ Come on, you’re good to go. I’m taking you home.” 

“What?” 

“You. Home. Now.” 

Merlin nodded, taken aback. He put on his shoes and followed his boss through the corridors without a word. 

Outside, Morgana was still pacing, and as soon as she saw the young man, she broke into a smile of relief. 

“Oh god, you’re fine.” 

“Yeah, he’s just an idiot.” Arthur replied, snapping. “I’m getting him back to his flat.” He started to walk towards the car park, Merlin following closely, before turning back to his sister abruptly. “Hold up. What were you doing with him in the first place ?” Merlin yawned right at that moment. “Never mind, I’ll call you later.” The whole thing was confusing him enough to wish to just go back to bed already. He was a club owner, he was not meant to be out and about before noon for the love of God. 

Arthur stopped by a black vintage car and opened the passenger door for Merlin. The young man stood there, contemplating the car with wide eyes. 

“It’s an MG MGA 1500 from 1958. Quite the jewel she is.” Arthur was proud of his car. It was a magnificent piece of British manufacturing which had survived more than half a century, and he hoped it would roll for an other. 

Merlin rolled his eyes and scoffed. He took place on the seat, and rolled his eyes once more when Arthur shut the door for him. 

“Where do you live?” Arthur reversed out of the car park. An unfamiliar tension wad hanging between the two men, as if they could break into an argument at any given moment. 

“Do you see the café where I work? Down that road.” 

The journey was quiet, really quiet. Only Merlin's tapping fingers on the car door could be heard over the roaring engine. Thanks to the terrific London traffic, it took them more than half an hour to reach the Rising sun. 

“Down the road there?” 

“Hmm.” 

Arthur kept driving, his eyes glancing here and there on the chipped facades and drunkards in the streets. A homeless woman was petting her dog in the alcove of a Boots, three girls were smoking on the sidewalk, and Arthur was convinced they must have been about twelve. 

“You can stop there.” 

Arthur pulled over, stopping right in front of a chippy. Merlin exited the car, and stared at the blond for a few seconds. 

“Get out of the car Arthur.” Merlin closed the door and walked towards the entrance door. It took the blond a minute, but he finally got out and joined the young man. He glanced at least five times at his car and around, clearly feeling uneasy. 

“Calm down, you can see it from my window.” On those words, he searched for his keys in his bag, patted his pockets and re checked his bag. “Bugger.” Hopping on one foot, he took off his leather boot and threw it at the window above the shop. It took just few seconds for Will to appear at the window, furious. 

“What the fu- Merlin?” 

“Forgot my keys mate!” He put his shoe back on, almost losing his balance. “Get your arse down and open the door!” Will disappeared, however Merlin still shouted. “And put some clothes on!” 

Evidently, Will did not hear the last part, as he opened the front door in his underwear. 

“Who's that?” Will asked, pointing to Arthur. 

“None of your business.” Merlin replied, shoving Will back inside, checking that Arthur was still following him. They all walked upstairs in silence. Will had left the door opened, and he stepped in, finding his place back on the carpet where a can of cider was patiently waiting for him. 

“I thought no more cider mate?” Merlin teased when he entered. 

“Got thirsty.” Will shrugged and took a large gulp. Arthur stared at him, confused by what the man was doing. It looked like an ashtray made out of a can of something. He then looked around him, feeling almost claustrophobic in the small living room which was used as a kitchen as well it seemed. He tried really hard to not comment on the greasy smell coming from everywhere. The noise coming from the streets was startling him slightly, every shout and klaxons, every barks and police sirens. Merlin gestured to the sofa, inviting him to seat down. For a second, he thought about declining the offer. 

They sat there, Will and Merlin talking about all and nothing. Eastenders was on telly. Will offered them a can. Merlin grabbed one, despite the disapproving glance that Arthur was giving him. The blond declined. 

“More for us.” Will said, without even looking at the blond. “I gotta ask Merlin. Is he a client or something? Cause mate, I thought you were joking about selling your arse.” 

Arthur was stunt by the way the man had spoken, talking about selling one's body like someone would talk about the weather. Like nothing was out of the ordinary. Like it was all normal. And he was even more taken aback by Merlin's lack of reaction at such a comment. 

“Nah, he’s not a client”, was all Merlin replied, drinking his cider.  

Will stood up and searched through the kitchen cupboards. He came back triumphal, holding a pack of jaffa cakes. 

“Me ma always said to offer something to snack to guests.” He mumbled, leaving the pack on the coffee table before going back to whatever he was doing. 

“Is he...?” Arthur finally spoke. He was lost for words. And really, there was nothing to say. He just did not belong here. With these people. However, he could not imagine how anybody could belong here. He had seen the cheeky bartender, and the bubbly barista that was Merlin, and he could never have imagined that this was his life. Hell, the young man was working two jobs, and that was his life? 

“High. Drunk. Both really. Makes the time pass quicker you see. Plus, drinking with your mates is all we’ve got. And all we need.” Merlin smiled, an empty smile. 

“But with what you’re spending on booze, you could buy food y'know. Maybe even save some money. Get away from there.” Arthur pointed out, and his answer made Will swear. 

“Alright pretty boy. Thanks for fixing my life so quickly. I had never thought about it! Oh hold on.. ah yeah, the maths doesn’t add up. Shocker I know! It’s cheaper to be hangover than eating three meals a day. Not that you’ll know.” Will threw his lighter on the table and stormed out, slamming his bedroom door on the way. 

“I... what?” Arthur asked defensively as Merlin was shaking his head. 

“Like I said Arthur. You just don’t get it. And probably never will.” 

“What is there to get? You live in a shithole cause you want to! If you really wanted to leave, you would have by now.” 

Merlin put down his can on the table and walked to the telly stand. “As a club owner, you’re good with numbers yeah?” He asked, not waiting for an answer. He grabbed two big folders and threw them on Arthur’s lap. “Have fun.” He sat down again next to the blond. He was calm, almost laughing at the whole situation. 

Arthur glanced at the man before opening the first folder. 

“Those are your bank statements Merlin, I’m not gonna look through them.” 

“Oh no, please do.” He stood up and grabbed the telly remote, browsing through the channels. He could hear Arthur going through the pile of papers, quiet. 

“What's that?” The blond asked. 

“Oyster card.” 

“This?” 

“Council tax.” 

“Here?” 

“My half of the rent.” 

“And that?”

“For my mom.” 

“There’s barely a hundred pounds left after that.” Arthur said under his breath. The numbers made no sense. Well they did, but they were ridiculous. He checked it all over and over again, convinced he could find a mistake, but there was none. 

“So now Arthur, shut up and enjoy your cider. The Beast is on.” Merlin shoved a can in Arthur’s hand, not without looking smug. “Cheers!” Merlin tapped their cans together, and grinned, from this wonderful grin of his. He was happy. Merlin was happy. And it did not make sense. Arthur opened his can and took a sip, hesitantly. 

“Are we gonna ignore what happened earlier?” Arthur brushed his jeans as he spoke.

“Yup!” Merlin stared at the telly. 

“So you are still up to work at the Avalon?” 

“If you still want me there, then yes.” He downed the rest of his can. 

“I want you, yes.” Arthur placed his own drink on the table and sighed. Because yes, he still wanted this crazy clumsy overly joyful man. Debts and all. He still wanted to hold him in his arms, bring him breakfast in bed, even if he had to stumble over empty bottles. He still wanted to snuggle with him on the sofa, even if it was this disastrous piece of furniture. He still wanted to love him with all his heart, if Merlin would allow him. He felt ridiculous, like a teenager falling in love for the first time. 

“Good.” Merlin leaned towards the blond, dangerously close. Arthur breathed heavily, losing himself in the smell of Merlin's hair. The young man placed his right hand on Arthur’s thigh and smiled, hungrily. “Really good.” Merlin snatched Arthur’s can from the table and sat back properly. “You were not gonna finish that anyway were you?” 

“I....no. Yes. I mean... it’s all yours. All yours.” Arthur mentally bashed himself. He swore he knew how to speak, although if someone could hear him now, they would doubt it. 

“I know. All mine.” Merlin smirked, and crossed his legs. 

“Oh please you two, get a room!” Will interrupted them, turning the kettle on. 

“It's not..  what... no! It’s not what you think!” Arthur babbled out, trying not to look at Merlin's flatmate who was still in his underwear. 

“I do have a room if you want.” Merlin stated, looking anywhere but at Arthur. The final of The Chase was really intense. The capital of Comoros was Moroni right? 

“Yes. No! Oh god. Look at the time. I need to go home and take a shower. I got the Avalon to open soon. Yes. Right. So... Bye? Yeah, bye and thanks for the jaffa cakes.” 

Will and Merlin had never seen a man running away so quick in their life. 

“How long has this been going on?” Will poured some milk in his tea, unaware of the unnatural consistency it currently had. 

“I don’t know. Since my first shift really.” 

“That man is your boss!?” Will chocked, although was it because of the realisation or because of the tea? We'll never know. 

“Yeah... Arthur.” Merlin could hear the vintage car driving away. He had no clue what he was playing at anymore. What should have been weird moment and a lesson for Arthur had become a glimpse of a future Merlin wanted. He had felt at home with Arthur on his side, and it had frightened him. It was like he had started a game he could not win. And if he could, he would have run away as well. He tried to hide his hard on with his can, and dropped his head backward. 

“Fuck.” 

“What?” Will asked, wondering why his tea was not quite right. Sugar! He needed sugar. 

“The bastard is driving me crazy.” 

“He is a bastard. I’m impressed such a posh git actually stayed that long here.” 

“Oi! He might be a bastard but I’m the only one who can say it.” Merlin threw an empty can at his friend's face. 

“Oh no Merlin. Don’t tell me you’ve fallen for this cheap counterfeit prince charming ! He wears Testoni for fuck's sake!” 

Merlin turned around and looked at him with a raised eyebrow. “Testoni?” 

“The shoes Merlin. They are almost a grant for a pair! That’s just ridiculous!” 

“Mate, what the fuck?” He stared at Will, ever so confused. “I thought the Armani jacket was just a lucky guess but you really know your brands!” 

“I... I happen to enjoy high end fashion, well, the aesthetic of it. Not the inner dirty capitalism emanating from it. But that’s not the point!” 

“Today keeps getting weirder, I swear.” The young man sat back down properly and went back to watch his tv program. 

“Are we doing a laundry today then?” 

“Nah, the nurse said I should rest for the rest of the day.” 

“The nurse?” 

“Ah yeah, I overamped or something.” Merlin replied nonchalantly, crossing his feet on the table. 

“You overdosed Merlin!?” 

“Overamped, geez! Still less unlikely than you knowing which brand of shoes Arthur wears though.” 

“Screw you.” Will left the living room, sipping down his tea. 

“Milk is off by the way mate!” Merlin shouted, cackling. 

“That’s what it was!”

Will came back to the kitchen, and added two more spoon of sugar to his tea. Merlin really wondered how his friend was not yet dead. He was even starting to think that Will would survive them all. 

 

 

Notes:

Alright ! I know, that was almost a crack!chap (Oh well... a speed!chap am I right? Ahahah. I am so funny. Someone kills me please) but it was quite fun to write!

Thanks for reading and see you next time! Xx

Chapter 5: Heartwakening

Notes:

What? An other chapter? Damn right. *downs his coffee* Listen, I'm on a roll, no-one can stop me!

And the title chapter is a made up word, cause why not ?

Anyway, enjoy y'all xX

Heartwakening 

 

Arthur parked his car in the garage, but stayed behind the wheel for a while. He did not know what to think anymore. He never had been a part of the personal life of his employees, in fact he could barely remember the names of all the bartenders that had worked at the Avalon in the last year. In his defence, there had been a lot, as he seemed to never be able to keep someone more than a few weeks. They were always too slow, too unorganized, not friendly enough, too friendly and in one instance, a thief. Oh he remembered Cedric’s name, the man having left with a couple of hundreds from the till before disappearing. He had not pressed charges for such a little amount of money was nothing to him, but he did not realised until today how much it could be for someone. 

He took his phone out of his pocket and stared at it as if the object could give him an answer. Sighing, he dialled his sister, not really sure why. 

“Hey Arthur! How’s Merlin?” 

“Fine. He's fine.” He took a deep breath and chuckled slightly. “Morgana?” 

“...yes?” 

“Do you think we are living in a different world? Like... are we far off from reality?” He felt almost shameful, if not stupid for asking this. He had always knew that his wealth was above average, thanks to his dear old father however he had never realised just how much that difference was. Truth being, he had never questioned the financial situation of anybody, yet he was sitting in his car now, wondering if Gwen could pay her bills, if Percy and Gwaine had to take a mortgage to buy their flat or if Leon was only eating pasta. He had never asked, cause it was not something you were meant to question wasn’t it? 

He had grew up in a world where anything could be bought, where desires were fulfilled the same day, where money was counted after it had been spend, for tax purposes only, never for fear of running out. 

“I just bought a fourteen million building. What do you think?” Morgana's voice, despite being condescending, let appeared some concern. “why?” 

“I... I don’t know. I guess I feel... guilty?” Arthur finally walked into his house, his expensive shoes clicking on the Italian wooden floor, the original Picasso judging him from the entrance. He actually hated that painting but the interior designer said it brought the room together so he had gotten it, whatever the hell that meant. 

“Guilty for being rich?” 

“But I’m not rich Morgana! Father is. I never earned a penny in my life now did I?” He grounded some Ethiopian coffee and brewed himself a cup.

“What about the Avalon?” 

“We're talking about a few grant a months. Eight maximum. That’s nothing.” He groaned as he looked for his favourite mug. He really needed to leave a note to his housekeeper. Lovely lady but he still did not understand the way she organized his cupboards. 

“Arthur.” 

“What?” He angrily threw his spoon in the sink and took a sip of the hot beverage. 

“Why don’t you, I don’t know, take out two thousands in cash and try to live the whole month with it?” 

“Oh that’s ridiculous! That would barely cover my dry cleaning bills and my car maintenance!” 

“So don’t.” He could hear her smile and he sighed. 

“What are you trying to say?”  

“Being rich is not a crime. What you do with your money is your own business. Your conscious does lay within your bank account however.” 

“Are you talking about charity work?” 

“If that makes you happy. If you want to. Or sponsoring an independent business, fundraising a medical research...”

“Opening an Art Galleries knowing it won’t bring you any money.” Arthur said, suddenly understanding his sister's decision. 

“Indeed.” 

They talked a while longer, mostly about her development plan for the gallery, and they made up the draft of a business plan for it. Before he realised, it was almost half past three. He politely hang up and made his way to his bathroom. 

As he showered, he wondered about going to the Avalon by the underground but quickly dismissed the thought. His car was a useful tool, and it saved him time for any impromptu shopping trips or even just to go to the bank. He could not see himself taking the underground with a craft envelop. Was it luxury? Privilege? He sighed and washed out his hair. 

Displayed on the bed was one of his black suit and a dark blue shirt. Where he would normally see a well tailored outfit, he now saw pound notes. 

“Snap out of it Pendragon" he scolded himself. He dressed up, his jacket strangely heavy on his shoulders. He glanced down and looked at his silver ring, and imagined what it would be worth if he decided to pawn it. 

Within the next hour, he unlocked the front door of the Avalon. He quickly got on with his routine; turned on the light in the fridges, prepped the till, checked the till counts of the week, made a list for the next delivery to give to Gwen later on. He greeted the man who walked in, heavy laundry bags on both shoulders. He put away the clean blankets and towels before strolling back behind the bar and opened himself a ginger beer. 

Gwen arrived not long after, sat at the bar and placed her computer on the counter. Straight away, she grabbed the bank sleeves and entered all the numbers on her excel sheet, placed orders and answered some emails. 

“Hmm.” The woman squinted her eyes and nodded appreciably. 

“All good?” Arthur enquired, leaned against the counter. He was scrolling down on his phone, looking for designs for the Avalon website which Arthur wished to freshen up a bit. 

“Very good actually. For the same exact week, we have a 2% growth compared to the last years. And from last week to this one, we are 8% up. That’s really good. Impressive even.” 

“Show me.” Arthur stretched slightly over the bar and read down all the numbers. “Our average number of guests is steady...Ah! Obviously.” He shook his head fondly, not able to hide his smile. 

“Yeah, it seems Merlin is a great seller. Those are some of the best bar sales I’ve seen since we opened.” 

“Yeah...Merlin is great.” Arthur spoke as a matter of fact, although he seemed lost in thought. He grabbed his car keys from under the still and stormed out. “Be right back!” 

“O...Okay?” Gwen shrugged and went back to her excel sheets. 

Like a madman, Arthur ran down the Soho streets, looking for something, anything. He hoped he knew what he would be looking for when he would see it. But none of the shops had his answer. It’s only upon seeing the old pub at the corner of the street that he knew. He walked in, and looked around satisfied. His shoes were sticking to the floor, it smelled of varnish and old beer and potentially potatoes. Three old men were sitting in a corner, talking over pints and newspapers.

“Hi, what can I get you?” The woman behind the bar had already grabbed a pint glass, waiting for his order to start pouring it. He mentally nodded, cause she clearly knew her clientele: he would have gone for a pint any other day. However, he was not here to drink. 

“I have a request. Could I pre-pay a tab?” 

“Sure. When's the booking?” She had taken out a small notebook and was ready to write it down. 

“Oh no. It’s not a booking. Not really. I’m working down the road and I’m looking for an idea for a prize for the employee of the month. I wanted to know if I could pay let’s say fifty pounds in exchange of a receipt or something,  and my employee could come and drink from that tab when they wishe to, like a voucher of some sort. Does that make sense?” Arthur thought he was ridiculous. But he was trying to understand Merlin. He really tried. And he hoped that this would please the young man. After all, Merlin had been a great asset for the Avalon, the numbers were talking for themselves. So he deserved a thank you. 

“Sure love! How much?” 

“How much is your pint?” 

“£4.50, £3 on happy hour.” 

“Make it a hundred then please.” 

The woman smiled, clearly taken aback by the amount. She took the payment and slid the receipt on the counter, underlining some stuff on the paper. “That’s the tab alright. What we'll do is that we’ll cash off any drinks and print a new receipt with the new balance if they don’t drink a hundred pounds worth in one night. Although if they do, I’ll be impressed.” She giggled and cashed in the money. 

“Oh, don’t underestimate him. Or his mate.” Arthur laughed as well, carefully placing the ticket in his wallet. “Thank you!” He left the pub, strangely happy. He might not understand Merlin just yet, but he was sure that the young man would enjoy nothing more than a paid off drinking night with his flatmate. At least, Arthur hoped as much. 

He ran back to the Avalon and grabbed an envelope in which he placed the ‘voucher'. He scribbled Merlin's name on it and tapped his fingers thoughtfully on the bar. 

“Gwen, would you mind giving that to Merlin next time he's in please?” 

“What is it?” 

“A thank you for his hard work.” Arthur brushed the subject off. Or tried to, if it was not for Gwaine who had apparently arrived while Arthur was away. 

“So mister pretty face gets something when I’ve been working my arse off here for years? You’ve hurt my feelings Pendragon.” Gwaine pouted dramatically and helped himself to a bottle of water. 

“It’s really Percy working his arse off isn’t it?” Gwen shouted back, earning two incredulously shocked face from the men. 

“Gwen! How dare you!” Gwaine placed his hand on his heart, fake gasping. 

“She has a point though.” Percy slid behind Gwaine and kissed him. “hello you". He dropped his jacket on the bar and stretched slightly before greeting Gwen and Arthur.  

They all got ready for the opening earlier than usual, Saturdays being their busiest night. One might argue that it was days like this that the bar needed a bartender, but Arthur liked to work the bar on Saturdays. It was all about seeing and being seen. As the owner, he had a reputation to uphold, and the more opportunity he had to talk with his guests, the better. 

He was about to get the bar ready but he soon realised that Merlin had left the bar spotless. In fact, Arthur had never seen the bar being so perfect. All the fridges were restocked, labels facing the clients, with not a single bottle in the wrong place. The almost finished syrups had a new bottle behind them, the dishwasher was so clean it was almost shining, the bins had been scrubbed down, the glass shelves were immaculate, there was not a single dust particle on the displays, and even the small coffee machine in the corner was looking brand new.  
He also saw the recipes of the mocktails had been rewritten by hand and placed neatly on the inox doors where only the bartender could see them. Arthur kneeled and read them, discovering that some slight changes had been made. Nothing drastic, just quantities being revised. He raised an eyebrow and grabbed two old fashioned glasses. He made a Shirley Ginger from memory, using the old recipe in one glass, and an other one following Merlin's changes in the other. The two glasses were looking exactly the same. 

“Gwen! Come a second please!” 

The woman appeared, already changed in her black velvet pencil dress, barefoot, her long brown hair still untied. Arthur placed the two glasses on the bar and asked her to try both. She was known to be the Shirley Ginger expert, and he knew she would give him her honest opinion. 

She took a sip from the first glass. “That’s good, that’s really good.” She mixed it slightly with the paper straw and tried it again. “Yup, that’s a really nice one.” She then moved on to the second glass. She did not even have to say a word : her eyes spoke for herself. She stared at Arthur, and took an other sip. “That's... What have you done to it? That’s amazing.” She drank some more and looked at the glass, stunt. “That's the best one I’ve ever tasted!” 

“Thanks for your help. You can finish to get ready.” 

She was about to leave but after two steps, she sneakily walked back to the bar and snatched the mocktail, giggling as she sipped it, disappearing in the back.

Arthur threw the tea towel on the counter and placed his hands on his hips. “Oh Merlin. You’re full of surprises aren’t you?”

Slowly, people started to come in. Within an hour, the front room of the Avalon was full. Arthur recognised most of their guests, but there way also some new faces, which pleased Arthur. 

The blond juggled from opening bottles and distributing water, refusing offers here and there. He had done a scene with a vast majority of the people present that night, and from what he recalled, none of them could offer him what he wanted. Well, he did not know what he wanted to be fair. 

“Arthur, can you pass me the box of chocolates please?” Leon asked him over the bar. The blond handed him the cardboard box without a word. “You’re alright?” 

“What? Oh yeah yeah. Just thinking you know.” He gave his friend a weak smile and went back to cleaning the prep area for the umpteenth time. He was going to make a hole if he kept going like that. 

Less than fifteen minutes later, a young man sat at the bar, looking over the people. 

“Can I get you anything?” Arthur asked, hand already on the fridge handle. The man turned to him and the blond inhaled deeply. Two blue eyes were gauging him from head to toes, dark curls of hair slightly hiding them. 

“Well, you.” The man smirked before laughing softly. Arthur looked at his watch and nodded. 

“That can be arranged.” The man smiled brightly and turned fully towards the bar. Arthur placed a sheet of paper in front of them and two pens. 

“I’m looking for a submissive. I don’t do any waterboarding, gunge, or electrocution. Light blood play can be discussed.  The rest is fine by me.” Arthur spoke as he wrote down everything, with the date and time. “My own safe word is Albion. I can provide aftercare, but know that we have a babysitter available if you’d prefer. I'm Arthur.” 

“Perfect. I’m looking for a dom. Bondage and impact play are fine by me. Edgeplay, CBT as well. No sensory deprivation, no kissing. My safe word is pineapple. And I’ll take you on your babysitter offer. I’m Mordred.” 

They both signed and shook hands. A signed negotiation was not required, however Arthur always preferred to have written proof. As the owner of the establishment, he would rather be prepared than sorry.  

He called Leon over and arranged for the bar to be taken care of. He also asked the DM to let Gwen know her services will be required . Mordred followed him through the corridor and into the second door on the left.

 A bondage table was in the middle of the room, a saint Andrew’s cross was on the wall just behind it and a swing was hanging from the ceiling in the corner. A rack of various toys, lubes, candles and ropes was displayed by the door. 

Arthur looked at Mordred and gestured him to kneel, which the young man did. Slowly, the blond stripped him from his shirt, revealing a leather harness, to Arthur's pleasure. He grabbed some ropes and tied Mordred's wrist behind his back, pulling on the strings enough to receive a whine from the young man.  

“Look at you, all hard for me already.” Arthur massaged Mordred's cock through his tight pair of jeans before tightening his grip. The young man tried to move his hips, but Arthur had other plans. Instead, he forced him back up on his feet, and finished to strip him down. He let him there, standing and naked, walking around him. The man had several bruises and cuts on his back and arse, contrasting nicely with his pale skin. 

Arthur grabbed the paddle and caressed him softly down his spine, enjoying the view of the skin reacting to the cold leather. One slap. Right on the already damaged skin. Mordred did not let escaped a sound. An other slap, harder. Mordred flinched slightly. 

“You’re a tough one. Shh. Don’t speak.” Arthur bent him on the table and spread his legs. “Feet on the floor.” With an other set of ropes, he tied each of his ankles to the hooks on the table feet. With a thinner one, he tied Mordred's balls to the knot on his wrists, spreading his arse to let the rope caress his hole. Arthur smiled at the butt plug proudly shoved deep inside Mordred. “I love a prepared whore.”  

Arthur slapped him once more with the paddle, his skin turning a bright shade of red. Mordred pulled on his wrist as a reflex and moaned loudly as the thin rope tightened around his balls. He was looking gorgeous like this, so vulnerable, at his mercy. His legs had started to shake and his breathing was quickening at each passing second. Arthur could hear the young man beg for more under his breath and he raised the paddle once more. His pale skin was made to be marked, and his dark curls to be grabbed. The slap echoed in the room. Arthur wanted to see his blue eyes, wanted to thrust inside him, to chock him, to make him his, to mark him forever. 

“Look at you Mer-Mordred... I...” Arthur lowered the paddle and passed a hand through his hair. “Albion.” The blond sighed and untied the young man. “Sorry... I... am not in the right state of mind for it today.” He helped Mordred back on his feet and offered him a blanket. 

“It’s okay mate. No harm done.” The young man smiled softly and curled up on the table, snuggled in the cover. 

“I'll get Gwen for you alright?” Arthur spoke softly and picked up the man's clothes before placing them neatly next to him. Arthur peaked out of the room and got hold of Leon in no time. Few minutes later, Gwen knocked on the door and Arthur went back behind the bar. Oh he was screwed. He was not even turned on anymore, just embarrassed. 

He decided that emptying the bin would do him some good. He really needed some fresh air. As he grabbed the back, it ripped open and dozens of crumpled papers and bottle leads rolled on the floor. 

“I did not know that Merlin's clumsiness was contagious eh?” Gwaine said. Arthur had not seen his friend sitting at the bar, too lost in his own cringe. 

“Oh shut up.” 

“What’s up princess? Woke up on the wrong side of the bed?” 

“I... yeah. Just had a long day. Just wanna go back to bed at this point.” He regrouped the rubbish in one pile with his foot and stared at it for far too long. 

“Fair.” Gwaine did not press the matter although the long haired man knew there was more than Arthur was willing to say. 

The blond grabbed a new bag and the brush and cleaned the mess he had made. Well, that the broken bag had made. When he emerged in the street, he felt like he was breathing for the first time in an eternity. He threw the rubbish and stared at the Avalon sign. What was happening to him? 

Hands in pockets, he reluctantly walked back into the club, his heart aching. It was stupid really. Almost impossible. But it ranged true in his heart, and it ached. It was almost midnight on a regular Saturday night. Nothing had changed. Or it did not look like it did. Apart from one thing. Arthur Pendragon was in love. And a sad laugh escaped him as he prepared a perfect Shirley Ginger. 

 

 

Notes:

Alright, chapter 5 is done!

I hope you enjoyed and see you next time!

Chapter 6: Something changed

Notes:

A new chapter? Damn right!

Something changed

 

Merlin woke up the next day feeling like hell. Well, not like hell per se : he was both exhausted yet had been unable to sleep. A restless dead body was what he was, and even Hell might refused to open its door to him. But life carried on, and his shift at the Rising Sun could not care less about his current state. 

He stood up, stumbling over his clothes he had left to die on the floor and went to the bathroom. The fact that his reflection was the same as any other day was a proof that he really needed holidays. A break. A week of just sleeping and nothing else. Sighing, he got ready and exited the door. 

He walked down the same road, waited at the same bus stop, stood in his usual spot on the bus, got down at the same stop, crossed the same road and he could have swear that it was always the same car stopping to let him cross. He entered the café, exchanged the same banalities with Gaius, put on the same apron, and made himself a coffee. As usual. Everything as usual. At least, his routine made it easy for him to just do the things, as he only needed his muscle memory at this point. The same old ladies entered. Two black coffees. He bagged up the same pastries as usual. Croissant. Apricot danish. Croissant. Pain au chocolat. No, sorry, we ran out of croissant. Our new batch will still take five minutes. Pain au chocolat. Have in or take away? Then please grab a seat, I’ll be over in a sec. We have soy or almond milk. £2.30. Thank you. Have a nice day. 

No really, it was like being caught in a caffeine loop where nothing ever changed. And he loved it that way. It was comforting, almost relaxing. Some might say that he was just a barista, but for him, it was more than that. He had seen the life of his regulars unfold before his eyes. New relationships, grandchildren graduating, pregnancy announcement, break ups, weddings, and in one instance: death. He was serving coffee to Life. And sometimes, he thought about quitting uni and opening his own little café where he could keep doing the same all over again. 

And it was a feeling he could not explain. The coffee machine was his, despite not owning it. He talked to it like you’d talk to an old friend. He knew each cup, despite all of them looking eerily similar. Every single stains and dent on the counter were like memories handwritten in a journal. It was all so familiar. So.... easy. 

By 11am, he  displayed the sandwiches that Gaius had prepared all morning. Everything was homemade, and the smell of the freshly baked bread was dancing in the street. His job was looked upon as a lower class activity, no diploma needed, minimum wage. Yet, as he made the final touch to a flat white, poured an OJ, ran the whole to the table while mentally checking the five other orders he had to make, taking payments and not letting the last round of parties burn in the oven, he smiled. 

He smiled because one thought crossed his mind : Arthur. Arthur in an apron, running around tables and making coffee. His boss obviously knew how to work behind a bar, but the two jobs had nothing in common and he would argue for hours about the difference between a barista and a bartender at any given opportunity. 

He plated a veggie ciabatta sandwich and left it on the side of the counter. 

“Gaius, if you need me, I’m just there! I’m just grabbing a bite quickly!” 

“No worries my boy, enjoy!” 

The old man appeared behind the bar, glasses on. Looking through the invoices, he glanced up time to time to make sure everything was alright. And it was. He could see Merlin devouring his food greedily, half seated on a stool, eyes never leaving the front door nor the few customers still sitting there. 

“Merlin... just take your time, sit down properly and enjoy your food.” 

The young man nodded and relaxed a bit, although his gaze was still scanning the café. He could not help himself. 

“Tea?” 

“Oh yes please!” Merlin grinned, as the stuffing of his sandwich escaped the bread to fall ridiculously on the plate. He barely had time to blow over the steaming cup that a new customer entered. Gaius gave Merlin a side glance, ordering him to not move at all. 

The old man put down his glasses and waited patiently as the person looked around the café before stopping by the counter. 

“Hello there. What can I get you?” 

“Hi. I was looking for Merlin?” at the mention of his name, the young man stopped mid-chew and leaned on the side to see who was asking for him, the person being hidden by the pile of croissant and the take away display. However, the stool disagreed with Merlin's actions and tilted over, sending the young man on the floor.  

“I feel like I am seeing you more often on the floor than on your feet.”

“Morgana?” Merlin helped himself up with his hands and dusted his trousers. “What...What are you doing here?” 

“I was looking for you, wanted to make sure you were alright.” The woman moved to the side slightly, letting the new customers access the counter so Gaius could serve them. She held a heavy folder in her arms, and as usual, her hair was perfectly tied up and her lipstick flawless, while making it look all effortless. 

“I’m good, thanks. Just slightly tired. But good.” Merlin was still confused by her presence, although moved that she thought about checking on him. 

“You should not be back at work already you know...” Merlin rolled his eyes and crumpled his paper napkin before throwing it in the bin. He snatched his half empty plate from the counter and his apron hanging on the bar stool. 

“As if I had a choice. Your brother and you might not realise, but people like me cant afford a sick day.” He bitterly laughed and passed in front of her without any further look. She was left hanging there as the kitchen door closed behind him. Chewing her bottom lip, she went to grab a sit on a small table in the back, contemplating her nails for a while. The nail polish was immaculate and her skin was as smooth as silk, as if those hands had never touched anything in their life.

Morgana sighed and checked her watch mindlessly. It was Sunday. Sundays were boring. But it also meant that the next day would be the start of a new week. After some time, Gaius came over to ask her if she wished to drink something, and she ordered a green tea. As the old man was leaving however, she called him back. 

“Excuse me!” She coughed slightly at the volume of her voice. “ Sorry. Are you...the owner?”

“I am indeed.” Gaius raised an eyebrow and stood by the table in a professional manner. “Can I do anything for you?” 

“I... Wanted to know if...nevermind.” Morgana almost felt embarassed, a feeling she was not used to. She was trying to understand, really, but it was like walking on eggshell. 

“Are you certain all is fine?” Gaius politely pushed further, offering her a last opportunity to speak up. 

“I... Are you looking for staff members? I...I would more than happily work full time... and my salary... could go to Mer- no forget it. Pardon me for making you lose your time. Just a green tea then. Thank you.” 

Gaius gave her a curious looks before nodding. “Very well.” He left, and Morgana stared at the bar where Merlin could be seen filling up a teapot with hot water. Surely, there were ways to help this young man, but it almost felt to her that he did not want any help. To her relief, she never saw the old man talking to Merlin about their discussion, and she hoped he would not in the future. She drank her tea, which had a bitter aftertaste, although the beverage might not be to blame. 

By three o’clock, Merlin and Gaius had fully closed the Rising Sun. Merlin liked Sundays for this particular reason : The cafe was closing earlier than usual, and the streets were quieter than any other day, allowing him to just get lost in thoughts. And if the weather allowed it, he would even walk home instead of taking the bus, and today was one of these days. He was even happier knowing he had the night off at the Avalon as well. And even though his laundry was waiting, his fridge was empty and the dishes might need to be done, he had no feeling of guilt daydreaming about spending the day watching telly and eating crisps. 

As he crossed the street, he smiled at the view of a seagull being chased by a dog. The bastard deserved it. Not to be killed mind you, but a small scare never hurt anyone. Apart if seagulls could die of a heart attack, then it would hurt them. Merlin giggled to himself, too exhausted to dwell on the health condition of the seagull population. He stopped abruptly though when he heard his phone ringing. He looked at the screen and his heart did something weird. He picked up and continued walking. 

“Yes?” 

“Merlin, how are you?” Arthur’s voice was concerned. 

“I’m fine. Is all the Pendragon familly gonna check up on me? Shall I expect a call from daddy Pendragon next?” Merlin rolled his eyes again, not without an ounce of fondness. 

“For your own sake, I hope you’ll never hear from Uther.” The blond let out a small laugh, but Merlin could hear something more sinister behind it. “And I’m glad to know you’re doing good, cause well...I might need you to work tonight...” 

“You might need me, or you do?” 

“I do.” 

“How come?” 

“Are you questioning my managerial skills Merlin?” 

“Oh no. I would not dare. It’s just really late notice, on a Sunday. Surely, you should have realised you were short staffed way before now. Or you just couldn’t go two days straight without me behind the bar.” Merlin laughed openly, finding it strangely easier to talk to Arthur on the phone than face to face. 

“You got me there. Cant be bothered to polish glasses tonight. Not short staffed, just lazy.” And to Merlin’s surprise, Arthur laughed as well. 

“Gotta love some honesty. I’ll be there. Only if I can get a lime and soda on the house.” 

“You can even have two.” 

“Wow. I’m spoiled. Right, see you tonight then.” 

And for some reason, Merlin smiled all the way back home. Long gone the telly and crisps, welcome exhaustion, and yet he smiled. The seagull looked at him, tilting its head, as in to say it knew. Well, it seems everybody knew why Merlin was smiling, everyone but him.   

By six, Merlin was standing by the Avalon front door. His hair was a mess as usual, his black trousers were whitened at the knees and his black shirt was suspiciously smelling of deodorant and...air freshener. It was really time for him to do a laundry. He pushed the door and strolled behind the bar where he helped himself to his so desired lime and soda. 

“You’re early. That’s unusual.” Arthur teased, letting his suit jacket hang on the back rest of the bar stool. He looked tired, if not disheveled. His normally perfect blond hair was sticking out in all the direction and his usually perfect outfit was...wrinkled. Merlin raised an eyebrow at the view, and made a mental note to force his boss to take a day off, even if he knew the man would refuse. Although Merlin was impressed that Arthur had taken upon himself to call him to work tonight as clearly, the blond needed all the help he could get, even just to stand up at this point.

“I’m five minutes late.” Merlin chugged half of his glass, welcoming the refreshment as if he had traveled across three deserts. 

“Which, by your standards, is early.” Arthur gave him a weak smile and coughed slightly, patting the inside pocket of his jack on the chair. “As a thanks, I got you, er... well...this.” The blond handed the young man a white squared envelop, and Merlin could swear his boss looked embarassed. 

Merlin grabbed the gift and eagerly opened it, to reveal a £100 voucher for...the local pub. He stared back and forth at the paper and at his boss, before breaking into a massive grin. 

“Is that... do you like it? I mean, is that alright? I can always change it, you don’t have to... nevermind, it was a bad idea...” Arthur was babbling, one could even believe he was panicking. 

“Sir, shut up.” Merlin laughed loudly. Running his fingers through his hair, he dropped the voucher on the counter and his laugh died slowly. “Do I look like I hate it?” He shook his head, endeared by his boss clear akwardness. “Mind you, a hundred quid to drink, that’s a challenge! I guess I’ll need some help...” Merlin leaned back against the bar, eyeing Arthur from head to toe. He wondered if the blond was more a larger lad or a champagne posh git. Weirdly, he felt like Arthur was both. 

“I’m sure your mate...Will is it? Would be more than happy to help you with it.” Merlin could swear that Arthur’s face had momentarely twisted into a sad empty smile. 

A crashing noise made both men jumped. From the back corridor, Gwaine could be seen doing what looked like apologetic jazzy hands. The long haired man also rolled his eyes, but none seemed to realised. 

“Yeah...Will.” Merlin cleared his throat and clapped his hands together. “Alright, got a bar to set up don’t I?” The young man turned around and kneeled by the fridges, staring blankly at the fully stocked bottles of ginger beers. The urge to bang his head against the door was strong, bashing himself mentally. How hard was it to say “No, not Will?”, well, too hard apparently. Merlin thought about checking his pants, cause his balls had clearly gone AWOL. 

“I’ll...go do... paperwork...things... over...there...” Arthur walked out, swearing under his breath. In the back corridor, the blond rested his back against the wall, exhausted. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, trying to calm himself. Was it anxiety, jealousy, panic, anger...he had no clue; all he knew was that he felt something, and he hated it. 

“Ouch!” Arthur jumped back to reality as Gwaine softly slapped him behind the head. 

“Are you king of obliviousness Princess?” The long haired man scolded his boss, not even amused. 

“Big word Gwaine. I’m impressed.” 

“Stop being a prat for one second. Pretty boy behind the bar right there? The one you’ve been day dreaming about since day one? Yeah? He just bloody tried to ask you out but nooo, Mister Pendragon missed that didn’t he eh?” Arthur’s eyes widened. For the first time in...years, Gwaine was actually annoyed. 

“He did...what?” 

“Merlin was trying to be a smooth bastard and hinted that you should be the one helping him to drink that voucher thing.”

“He...what?” 

Before any of the men could press the matter any longer, Percy appeared in the corridor, and grabbed the hand of his lover to drag him back in. Gwaine melted at the touch and followed the giant, not without giving a last heavy look to his boss, gesturing not so discreetly at the bar. 

By the bar, Merlin was cleaning and dusting the top shelves, trying to take his mind off Arthur’s matter. However, he managed to take his mind off so much that he forgot he was standing on a stool and stepped confidently in emptiness, crashing on the floor in what looked like a slowmotion action. He stayed there, rolled slightly to be on his back fully, and stared at the ceiling. The lights were not yet dimmed, and he should really get a ladder to change that left light bulb. He turned his head to the right and squinted his eyes. That was were his bottle opener had been : under the fridge. He’d have to move them out one day to clean underneath, he was sure he could find some great stuff down there. 

“Taking a break already?” Arthur bent over the counter. He had heard the commotion and the muffled moan of pain and had ran towards the bar. 

“It’s meant to be my day off, and it’s my nap time.” 

Arthur walked behind the bar and offered his hand to the young man, pulling him back on his feet with one strong impulse. All the dust from the shelves which had gone on the floor were now on Merlin, and the back of his shirt was strangely shiny and sticky. 

“Alright, come with me.” Arthur left the bar, and Merlin followed him, confused. They went down the corridor, and the blond stopped by the last room at the end. He unlocked it and turned on the light, inviting Merlin in. 

“That’s...” 

“The staff room yeah. Don’t look so surprised, where do you think people were getting changed?” Arthur laughed at Merlin’s face. 

“I just...never thought about it. I’m an idiot.” Merlin joined Arthur in a round of laughter. 

“Take off your shirt.” Arthur finally said, his eyes looking anywhere but at Merlin. The young man swallowed and cleared his throat, unbuttoning his collar. 

“Are you not gonna buy me a drink first? And me who thought you were a gentleman sir.” He winked as his fingers kept opening his shirt, slowly. Arthur was browsing through a leather bag, and got a black tank top out of it. He glanced over it and hoped it would fit the young man, as it was the smallest thing he had on hand. The blond gave it to Merlin who gladly took it, slightly cold standing there shirtless. 

When he was dressed again, Merlin could not help but play with the rim of the tee shirt. It was an average cotton tank top, but it felt like nothing he had ever worn before. It was thicker than what he was used to wear, and the top had also been ironed and it smelled...it smelled like Arthur. 

The blond made his way to walk out of the room, but as he passed next to Merlin, he leaned slightly towards the young man. 

“I don’t do drinks Merlin. I do diners.” Arthur tapped Merlin on the shoulder, squeezing it softly and left, or at least tried to. Merlin grabbed the blond’s sleeve and brought him back in. 

“And I don’t do flings.” Merlin spoke under his breath, his gaze looking for an answer in Arthur’s eyes. But the answer did not come from his eyes but his lips. Slowly, Arthur cupped Merlin’s jaw, and placed an innocent kiss on the corner of his lips. 

But as quick as the moment came, it went away. Arthur straighten and cleared his throat before practically running away from the room. It was too much. He could not handle just a taste, he just wanted to grab the young man’s hand run away, anywhere. He could not process what his mind and heart were going through. It was not making any sense to him. Just a brush of this man’s lips and Arthur was ready to go and steal the moon for him, which let him believe that the simple touch of their body pressed against one an other would be his death sentence, unable to comprehend how he could survive these emotions. 

In the corridor, he knocked on the Excalibur door and was greeted by Gwaine. 

“Eh Princess, you’re alright?” 

“I’m just not feeling good. The keys are in the till, do you mind closing for me tonight? Just lock the front door and set the alarm, I’ll do the cash out in the morning.” 

“Sure. Go get some rest.” Gwaine shooshed his boss away nonchalantly, although he could not fully hide his worry. 

In less than ten minutes, Arthur was out. For the first time in years, he had left work early. For the first time in years, he had an evening off. But he could not think about it; he could only think about this ridiculously clumsy bartender that stumbled into his life just few days ago and messed up everything. He was light headed, short of breath, his palms were sweaty but he did not need a diagnosing for he knew it already : good old Arthur Pendragon was suffering from a heart flu. Prescription : a tablet of self pity twice a day, and a spoon of day dreaming before bed. 

 

Notes:

I'll see you all... at some point...next week? Next month? Next year? Who knows ... xX

Chapter 7: Am I missing something?

Notes:

Ploy twist: this fic is not dead!

Arthur kept looking at his phone as if the inanimate squared thing could give him the answer. Sat on his sofa, the cheapest wine bottle he could find in his cupboards  opened by his side, he sighed. He wondered what his so classy sister would say if she could see him right now, not even bothering to get a glass, drinking from the bottle like a savage. His ancestors were probably laughing at him from their graves : the almighty Pendragon was a disgrace. 

After many years, he had come to terms with the relationship – or lack of – that he and his father had, or so he liked to think. After all, Uther could not afford to have such a depraved son. But Arthur knew that Uther, despite all what have been said in the past, still had hope for Arthur to give him  grandkids, to settle down with an ok woman, and to grow out of his decadent lifestyle. 

And Arthur clang on this last string of hope. He wished he could redeemed himself. He wished, once in his life, to hear his father say these few simple words. “I'm proud of you.” And he found himself miserable. He was not a young boy looking up to daddy anymore, yet he was still seeking the approval of a man he despised. 

He grabbed the bottle of wine and laughed at himself. Merlin. Stupid wonderful Merlin. Any imprint of hope had been lost the day the young man came tumbling down Arthur's life, for he knew that if he were to settled down, it would be with a man, a man he could love and cherish. No traditional white wedding, no natural grandkids, no redeeming his name. 

Three loud knocks brought him out of his self-induced pity party. He looked at his watch and back at his door, not moving. 

“Arthur Pendragon, I know you are in here, and if you don’t open in the next five seconds, I’ll kick the door open.” 

Arthur put the bottle down and chuckled, before unlocking the door. 

“I'd like to see you kick it in your Louboutin Morgana.” He moved on the side, letting his sister in. He would never say it out loud, but he was glad for the company. 

“Point taken.” She flung herself on the sofa and grabbed the wine in one expert move, taking a long sip. Arthur stared at her and laughed. 

“How elegant!” 

“Oh piss off. I’m not here to be elegant, but to kick your butt.” She straighten herself and with one look, ordered Arthur to sit next to her. 

“If you want to kick things so much, try to sign up for some kickboxing lessons.” It was said without conviction however, because something was not right. Not once in the past years had his sister stopped by his flat. Hell, he did not even know she knew where he was living. “Why are you here?” Arthur dropped his shoulders, almost defeated. He knew a conversation he was not looking forward to was coming, and fighting against it was futile, especially when your interlocutor was Morgana.  

“Leon called me.” She wanted Arthur to open up by himself. Even though she was known to be straightforward, her intentions were not  to rush her brother. She knew he was not the kind to share his feelings, just like herself. Blame Uther's education for it. 

“Of course he did. It’s no big deal! I never took an evening off you know, and I think I’m allowed to treat myself.” He snatched the bottle from her hand but before he could even think about drinking some, Morgana grabbed it back, surprisingly quickly. 

“Arthur Pendragon does not take evenings off.” 

“Well maybe Arthur Pendragon should.” He spit out his family name as an insult, and jumped to his feet. “Now, the door is that way.” He gestured towards the hallway, almost tapping his foot waiting for his sister to stand up. But she did not move. She did not even blink. So instead, Arthur moved to the kitchen, grabbed a lager and settled down on a stool. He had always hated his kitchen : it was too big, too cold, too show roomy. It was probably the first time he had actually grabbed a seat at the kitchen island, and he chuckled : his evening was only made of first times it seemed. 

Morgana was now standing against the wall, the bottle of wine swinging from her fingers, not even looking at her brother. Her nails against the glass was all what could be heard, the unspoken truth heavy beetween them. The shadow of their father was the third person in the room, and it felt as if any word spoken could be heard by him. 
Morgana took one more sip, and with her eyes lost on the kitchen window, she finally spoke. 

“I know. And Arthur : it's ok. No matter what you might tell yourself. It’s ok.” She swallowed, trying to contain her own emotions. She had been raised to be a cold hearted business woman, to be above average, but at this instant, she could not pretend anymore. She was devastated to see her brother like this. 

“But it’s not ok though, is it?” Arthur broke into the saddest laugh she had ever heard. He downed his beer in one go, and stared at the empty bottle. “It's not ok.” He looked up to meet her eyes. They mirrored his own sadness. 

“Arthur...” 

“Listen. I can’t. Sometimes I wake up and I think I could tell father, only to end up having a panic attack. Hell Morgana! I can’t even look at myself in a mirror anymore. And I’ve tried, I've tried to be what he wants me to be... four years I’ve spent with Sophia. Do you know how guilty that makes me feel, still to this day? I wasted years of her life and broken her heart because I was scared. Because I’m still scared. Now tell me Morgana : would you rather spend your life pretending or be true to yourself living in constant fear? Because I know , and it’s neither. ” Arthur stood up abruptly and threw away the bottle. Exhausted, his hands on the sink, he dropped his head in his shoulder. He promised himself to not cry for his father anymore. He took a deep breath and turned back to Morgana. “I just can't. Not today, not tomorrow.” 

“I know.” She kicked her heels off and untied her ponytail. She was looking like the kid she once was. Bringing the bottle to her lips once more, she sat at the kitchen island. Her eyes were reading the wine label on and on again. “I know what he did to you Arthur. And I’m sorry.” For the first in his life, Arthur thought he could see a glint of shame in her eyes. 

“You-" 

“I was still awake,” Morgana cut him, refusing to meet his eyes, “I was reading that book and wanted to finish it before going to bed.” She chuckled slightly. She had not been able to ever finish it, and would still refuse to read it to this day, even though the book was always on her bedside table. “Father was away for the week end so I thought I could afford to go to bed later than usual. And it seemed we both decided to go rogue that night, in our own way. I heard you coming back with someone and well, I was like ‘good on you’ and went back to my reading.” With her nails, she started to peel off the label. Arthur was silent, his eyes closed as he listened to his sister. “I did not hear father coming back early, and I believe neither did you. I heard a crashing noise and opened my bedroom door slightly. I saw that other boy running away and you, standing there. I saw Father slapping you once. Twice. I saw you crying. I closed the door and buried myself in my duvet. I could still hear everything. I could still hear you begging Father to stop because I was sleeping. I heard your body collapsing onto the floor. And then I heard Father walking back downstairs. I heard you closing your bedroom door. And all night, I heard you cry.” She looked back at her brother, who was still eyes closed, arms crossed on his chest. “Arthur...” Only then did he looked back at her,  not afraid to show his tears, his tongue burning for wanting to apologise. “I should have told this  that night but I was scared,  and maybe now it’s too late, but I want you to know that it's ok. And by me, it always have been. I loved you before and I still loved you after that night, cause you’re still my brother. And don’t you even dare apologising for it, because it’s not your fault. It was never your fault.” 

Arthur’s whole body seemed to relax, as if years of carrying the weight of that night had dissipated. He helped himself to an other beer and joined his sister on the opposite side of the island. 

“James. The boy's name was James. He... well, he was my boyfriend, we’d been together for six months at the time. And I loved him, like teenagers love I guess. I broke up with him the next day. I was scared of father, but I was also scared for James’ safety you know. I did not know what father was capable of and maybe I overplayed the worse scenario in my mind and wasted what could have been a perfect relationship by being a coward. I don’t know. I guess we'll never know.” 

He cheered with his sister, and for some reason, he felt safe. It was a strange feeling to him, but it had been the first time he had spoken about his sexuality with someone in years, and to know he was loved was overwhelming. And he knew his father was aware of the Avalon, but Uther had never questioned what was happening behind its closed doors. In fact, the matter had never been discussed in between the two men, apart from regular hints from Uther regarding Arthur finding himself a wife. An unspoken deal between the two of them, pretending Arthur was straight despise both knowing the truth. 

“And that’s why I am here.” Morgana sounded more determined and optimistic. Arthur tilted his head, not getting where her sister was on about. She mimicked him, only looking accusatory. 

“Merlin.” Arthur finally spoke. He buried his face in his palms. 

“Stop running away from him. Because it might come as a shock to you but you deserve to be happy. And who cares what Uther, a sad old fart, thinks about it mmh? And worse case, if he comes at you, just push him down the stairs. It could be seen as an accident you know ... He was old, his balance was not what it used to be...” 

“How did we go from me coming out to us committing murder?” For the first time of the evening, Arthur laughed. A real laugh. And it felt good. 

“Fine. No murder.” She rolled her eyes before joining her brother in his laughter. “But I really think  you should ask Merlin out. If he says yes, it could be the start of a great story. If he says no, at least you won’t spend your life wondering what could have been.” 

Arthur nodded, thoughtful. “I do really like him, I just don’t know why? He is like...My total opposite, deadly clumsy, and...we're just not part of the same world I guess.” 

“You stupid loaf.” Morgana rolled her eyes, while picking out some if the label remains from under her nails. “You’re both part of the same world. Cause you know what? Rich, poor, black, white, Asians, men, women, trans, gay, straight, tall, short, big, skinny, educated, illiterate, we are all part of the same world. We’re humanity, we're beautiful, we're smart and we all share the same language: Love. So shut your cake hole, get a grip on your bollocks and rewrite your own destiny Arthur Pendragon.” 

Arthur broke into a loud laugh, tears peeling in his eyes. “That was...” He was holding his ribs, moaning in pain as his fit of laughter was not calming down. “That was so...bad Morgana. So...So bad... please...for both our sake's...don’t ever try to be motivational ever again...” His face was red, his breathing short and he could not even look at his sister without losing it once more. She pouted, although her smile was slowing growing on her face. 

“Shut it.” She hid her own laugh by drinking, and it felt like the veil surrounding them had lifted, the mood of the room becoming as light as can be, and if someone looked Not the room, they could easily believe that this was what happiness looked like. 

Back at the Avalon, Merlin was cleaning the same part of the bar again and again, and it was a miracle the metal had not turn into a mirror just yet. 
The evening was quiet, and all his tasks were done. In fact, he just needed to empty and clean the ice well and he would be free to go home. His mind was miles away, and he just wanted to watch crap telly with Will and forget about the evening. However, he could not. The ghost touch of Arthur’s lips was still tingling his skin, and he felt like a teenager pining over his crush. He felt ridiculous. 

“Ok. What the hell happened?” Merlin almost jumped out of his skin as Gwaine spoke. He had not seen the long haired man passing behind the counter, nor did he heard the man opening a chocolate and munching on it. 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” The young man shrugged, raising a confused eyebrow too high to be a natural reaction. Gwaine shook his head before jingling the keys in front of the bartender’s face. 

“One day, a few years back, Arthur twisted his ankle, and guess what? He still finished his shift, miserably lumping around. In fact, he has this unhealthy professionalism and he would never leave this place when  on duty, no matter what. So, what happened?” 

“I'd say it’s none of your business?” Merlin spoke in a high pitched voice hoping Gwaine would let it go. 

“You’re right, it’s not. But, and don’t you dare mention it ever again, I’m actually worried about Princess.” Gwaine grabbed some water, his gaze on his feet. 

“I... Listen. I don’t know mate. He...” Merlin looked around almost to make sure no-one else was listening, as if he was about to reveal a secret of the state. “He kissed me and... fled the crime scene.” He gestured his hands around, because truth be told, he still did not understand. 

“Ah.” Gwaine fondly smiled. “And did you enjoy it?” His smirk was strangely tender, if not hopeful, but definitely mysterious. Yes, Gwaine was a devilish angel of some sort, Merlin thought. 

“That’s...That’s not the question. I.. no... I mean yes... I don’t know...I...” 

“Here's what you gonna do : grab your jacket, go to his place, pour your heart out, shag him, and we can all finally carry on without having to witness the two of you dancing around eh?” As he spoke, Gwaine scribbled his boss’ address on a paper napkin, and shoved it in Merlin’s hand. “Come one, chop chop, off you go!” 

“Mate, I still got work to do, plus I’m pretty sure that this is a GDPR breach right there...” 

“Well... His fist was in my husband, and his lips on yours. I think we can all consider ourselves friends and friends knows where the other lives.” 

“Oh wow.” 

“Come on, go get him!” Gwaine shooshed him off the bar, not letting the bartender any room to argue. 

“You know, this is the real world, not one of those rom com you so enjoy. What do you want me to do? Blast a boom box under his window? Write a love declaration on some paper and ring his bell? Shall I learn Portuguese and propose to him maybe?” 

“Get your sassy ass out of here.” Gwaine chuckled, already emptying the ice well. From the corner of his eyes, he made sure that the bartender had indeed left. 

Wandering in Soho, Merlin was focused on the map of his phone, trying to figure out where to go. He turned in circle for a long time, becoming increasingly embarrassed at his lack of orientation skills. He checked his wallet, even though he knew he did not have the change for a cab. And it came to no surprise to him when he recounted multiple times the coins that it would get him nowhere. 

In his back pocket, he remembered the voucher Arthur had got him, and he walked to the pub down the road. At least, a pint would do him some good. The place was overly loud and crowded and smelly and he loved it. Sat at the bar, he tried to convince himself that going to Arthur's would only be a mistake anyway. It was just a kiss, a heat of the moment, it meant nothing. Hell, someone like Arthur could not have interest in someone like him, he thought, after all he was just an overworked student without a dime in his pocket and a taste for self destruction brought upon him with a lack of projection in a future including him alive. Merlin widen his eyes at his thoughts and downed half his pint, with the sudden urge to drown his mind. 

“Eh boy. Fancy a game of pool? Fifty quid you can’t beat me.” A lad tapped him on the shoulder, pointing to the table. 

“Don’t have the change mate, sorry.” Merlin turned his back on the guy who walked away. He ordered himself a new drink, fidgeting the new receipt inbetween his fingers. He grabbed his glass and made his way to the guy, who had still not find an opponent, instead enjoying his stout with some mates. 

“Actually, let's play. Got a prepaid bill for this pub, so if you win, that’s yours. If I win, fifty quid it is. Up for it?” 

“Alright mate, game on!” Merlin put his receipt under a glass, next to a few notes. 

If there’s one thing Merlin was good at, it was playing pool, even though it was a useless skill in life. The guy – Peter – was not bad either, and Merlin actually had a great time. He was on his own, focused on a game, enjoying his pint, having a laugh and it felt great. When he won, there was no fights, no animosity, and they shook hand. Merlin stayed at their table, chatting about all and nothing, and even talked about meeting up again the next week for the pub quizz. 

“We’re about to go the Black Horse , we’re meeting up some more guys there, wanna follow mate?”, one if the woman asked. 

“No, I’m good, I should...shit!” 

“What?” Peter asked, downing his pint and putting his jacket on.

“I was meant to go meet someone ! Bugger! I got to go! Dammit!” 

Merlin ran away, waving the group goodbye hastily. He couldn’t believe he got sidetracked and forgot about Arthur, although he knew he actually tried his best to forget about the blond. But now, slightly intoxicated, he only wanted one thing, and it was to run to Arthur's flat and have their own rom com moment. 

He dug up the notes he had previously won and hailed a cab. He gave the address to the driver and as he put his seatbelt on, he was torn between asking the cabbie to go quicker or jumping out of the moving car. 

Less than ten minutes later, the car stopped. Merlin paid for his journey and exited the vehicle. He stood there on the pavement, the cab driving away. He wondered if it was too late to hail it again. 

He was in a part of the capital he had never been, mostly cause he could not even afford to breath the air down there. He walked to the door, only to be stopped by a security door, and shiny number on the PA system. 

By chance, or by pure coincidence, someone opened the door. He held it opened and entered, feeling like he was breaking in. He climbed up the stairs, looking for the right flat number. When he reached the fifth story, he bashed himself for not thinking about taking the lift and going down each stories instead of becoming a breathless sweaty tipsy mess. 

He reached the top of the building, and finally found the right door. He took a minute to breath. He almost knocked about four times, bringing his hands down everytime. 

“Come on, what’s the worse that could happen.” He whispered to himself, before picking three loud time. And it all sounded silent suddenly. He could not even hear his own heart beating. 

Arthur and Morgana stopped talking and shared a questioning look at the knocks. 

“Are you expecting someone?” His sister asked, surprised.

“If I was expecting someone, do you really think I’d still be in my joggers? I have manners Morgana, please.” Arthur glanced at her, when she did not reply. 

“Go open the door then you idiot!” She finally spat, not without laughing slightly. 

“Oh yeah, right!” The blond walked across the living room. It was probably Mr Richardson coming up to complain about the noise or something. Arthur was surprised the old man did not knocked earlier when his sister was still parading around the flat with her high heels. 

“I'm sorry Mr R- Merlin?” 

Awkwardly, the young man waved at Arthur. “Yeah...er...hi...” 

Notes:

Hope you enjoyed and I shall see y'all at some point for the next chapter! Xx

Chapter 8: We can dance again

Notes:

Let's be honest : I am as surprised as you lot that this fic is still being updated...!

Merlin looked anywhere but at Arthur, the silence between them dragging, however there was no awkwardness. Instead, it felt peaceful and right.

 

“Arthur! Who is it?” Morgana’s voice was faint but loud enough to bring the two men back to reality.

 

“Do...er...do you want to come in? Got some beers in the fridge...or wine... or just tap water...I’m not trying to get you drunk ... I might have some squash in the ...er..cupboard or even just a slice of lemon and...”

 

“Arthur? Shut up.” Merlin smiled from ear to ear before shovelling Arthur to the side and letting himself in. “I don’t know what is rambling in your head but for once, just...let things be. Go with the flow.”

 

“Did you just say ‘go with the flow’ Merlin? Really ?” The blond hid his laugh, giving a judgmental glare to the young man instead.

 

“You know what, I just did! Hey Morgana!”

 

“Hello Merlin! How have you been?”

 

Merlin walked into the kitchen, letting his messenger bag fall to the floor, and grabbed a seat on one of the stool. Instinctively, Arthur placed a beer before him. It all felt like an old routine, like it was natural and they did that every other day. Merlin opened his drink by the aid of his lighter and cheered the siblings.

 

“The usual. Work. More work. Just started my new project for uni as well. Nothing much. You? Bought the old paper mill yet?” He took a large gulp of his larger, nodding in approval. He didn’t recognise the label, and glanced towards the blond who smirked, almost to say ‘it’s good isn’t it?’.

 

“Actually I did yes! I’m meeting up with an architect tomorrow to brainstorm some ideas. I also need to get the building a thorough assessment, but I’m not too worried about the findings : a place like that? I’ll have to redo all the plumbing and potentially reinforce the roof. That’s to expect.”

 

They talked, a lot, about all and nothing, almost as if none of them could keep quiet, as if none of them had realised how lonely they had been for so long.

 

Merlin had moved on to wine, joining Morgana, whilst Arthur had stick to larger. Even though they would not say it out loud, none of them wanted the evening to end.

 

“There’s one thing I don’t get Merlin,” Morgana started, pointing her glass towards the young man, “you’re not stupid. You’re hardworking. You’re funny. You’re cute. So why?”

 

“Why...what?”

 

“Why are you...were you are you know? Like... two jobs, uni, counting pennies and all. It’s not fair is it? It is not fair.” She seemed deeply saddened as she spoke, her green eyes lost in the red of her beverage  Arthur was looking at his nails, suddenly unable to look at the young man.

 

“Why indeed.” Merlin chuckled softly, downing his glass. “I got that theory yeah? The notion of deserving something in life is a scam. The world doesn’t care about what you deserve. It could even be considered a sin isn’t it? To believe you deserve more than you currently have. Why should I deserve more than the man sleeping on the floor at the corner of the street? Why should I deserve less than the posh git driving his Porsche around all day just to be seen? Who decides what we deserve? It’s just a lottery at the end of the day. You were both born the heirs of a great fortune, I was born the only son of a working class broken family. Nothing but lottery. Tell you what : I do not deserve much more than the next Joe. I deserve jack shit. However, I’m entitled to clean water, a roof above my head and a hot meal on the table for just being human. Now that’s something we all deserve, for just being human, and we seem to forget that way too often. And I got a roof, I got water and I got food. From that on, who am I to cry about my situation?”

 

Arthur smiled, sadly. He took a sip, awfully quiet.

 

“Life is a lottery then?” Morgana carried on, “then sometimes you can get a big win. It would just be luck, being at the right place, at the right time. Am I correct? Just luck, a deus machina in your own life.” She smirked, tapping her nails on the counter. Hopping off the stool, she made her way to her handbag, pulling off a thick envelop. She slid it accross the island, stopping right in front of the young man. “Life is lottery. And you Merlin, just won.”

 

Merlin raised an eyebrow, before looking down, seeing his name on the envelop. Looking for answers, he glanced towards Arthur who seemed clueless, trying to figure out what his sister was on about.

 

“I was about to give it to you at some point during the week but as you’re here now, I don’t see why not.” She was almost bouncing, a glint of mischief in her eyes. “Come on then, open it!”

 

Merlin seized the envelop gingerly, as Arthur sat down across the young man, eyeing the envelop just as curious. Once opened, he found himself holding a thick stack of paper. He unfolded it, not without glancing towards Morgana who was not hiding her excitement.

 

“Employment contract,” Merlin started to read out loud, “This agreement made effective as of the ... beetween Lefay Art Gallerie LTD and Merlin Emrys. This contract sets out the terms and conditions of employment which are required to be given to the employee under section 1 of the Employement Righ- what... what is this Morgana? Wh-"

 

“Obviously the Gallery won’t be open as of tomorrow but optimistically, within four months, it should be open to the public. From then, you’d start a month prior to the inauguration. From there, we should settle down any legal matter, mostly regarding auctioning and licences. I am planning on just opening the ground floor at first, before building it up to the first and second floor. As for the last floor, I am intending to create a workshop to make art accessible to the youngsters and the less fortunate. As for this part of the project, I am currently filling everything to get the charity recognised by the city and the government. But when the legal matters are dealt with, that will be ready to roll as well.”

 

“Wow Morgana, slow down. Are you just stealing my employee, right in front of me?” Arthur laughed, although a lingering fear was noticeable. Because if Merlin were to quit his job at the Avalon, then Arthur thought he would simply not see the young man anymore, marking the end of whatever there was between them. ‘Nothing’, he thought to himself. ‘It would be the end of nothing’.

 

“Morgana, that’s...” Merlin cut before she could answer her brother. “That’s... a really generous offer. I am... flattered, really, but truthfully? You could find someone better cut out to work in an Art Gallery than myself. I... Am declining your offer.” He smiled at her before bringing his glass to his lips.

 

“You don’t think you can have this.” Arthur stated matter-of-factly. “Life is a lottery but you don’t think you can win.” He was staring into Merlin’s eyes, tilting his head slightly. “It’s not that you think you’re not adequate for the job. It’s something else isn’t it?”

 

“I... Arthur.” Merlin bit his bottom lip, suddenly too aware of the two pairs of eyes on him.

 

“You don’t see it. You really don’t see it.” The blond was practically talking to himself.

 

“See what?” Merlin mocked, crossing his arms on his chest. “That I am just an other boy from the country who happens to know how to make a cocktail? That I’m an alcoholic but refuse to admit it? That my definition of fun is snorting random stuff hoping I won’t wake up, finally? That despite working my arse off I still can’t take care of my mum and even if I could I still have to let her alone back home? That I am a coward who keeps running away instead of facing the shitshow that's my life? Nah mate, I see all that. Thank you very much.” The laugh that escaped Merlin was empty, shockingly blank of all emotion. “I am shitfaced. I should go.” Merlin got up on his feet, stumbling slightly. He managed to put his jacket on somehow, and made his way to the entrance door.

 

“Merlin!” Arthur followed the young man, almost pleading. What had been an enjoyable evening had turned into a miserable show. “Don’t! Don’t leave! I.. Please.” The blond passed a hand through his hair, exhaling loudly. “When I look at you yeah? I see a beautiful man. So beautiful. I see the kindest man, the funniest man, I see... a hardworking student, fighting for everything that he believes is right, I see a proud man. I see a loyal friend, I see a man destined to do so much, if only he'd let people give him a hand. I see potential, greatness, strength. I see a clumsy loaf, a goof ball. I see so much. So, so much. But there’s one thing I don’t see and never will: I don’t see a failure... I don’t see a coward.” Arthur’s last words were almost inaudible, covered up by his heavy breathing. He had stood up to quickly and part of the room was spinning.

Merlin stopped briefly, looking at the blond tenderly.

 

“Wouldn’t it be easier if we could all see ourselves through the eyes of others?” He opened the door, turning the landing light on. Two by two, he ran down the stairs, his steps drumming in the night, before dying out completely.

 

Arthur stared at the door before slamming it shut. “Fuck.”

 

Down in the street, Merlin was walking as straight as he could, which was not at all. Soon enough, his walking turned into running. He ran, breathless, aching. The cold air was slapping him. The streets, the corner shops, the parks : it all looked the same, as if he was caught in an endless loop. So he ran.

Running away from himself more than from Arthur. Running away from his own failures. Running away from his past, from his mistakes, from everything.

 

Before he had realised where he was going, he found himself at the train station, jumping on the first train to the Midlands. The door closed. Slowly, the carriages started to move, the houses quickly replaced by fields.

 

His legs bounced up and down, his mind fogged up. The sun was rising, casting orange silhouettes on the iced grass. He had spend the night in Arthur's flat, and as the morning was greeting him, he could not care less about missing his shift at the Rising sun. He could not care less. Drunken, he laughed, feeling like he was doing the right thing, for the first time in a long time.

 

A controller passed next to him, not asking him for his ticket. Merlin knew better than saying something. The odds were in his favour it seemed.

 

Wonkly, he walked to the loo, splashed his face with cold water. His eyes met his reflection in the small dirty mirror above the sink. He saw an exhausted dishevelled boy. He saw eyes blued by sadness. He saw disappointment. It was time for him to make things right, it was time for him to leave his teenage years behind and accept he was an adult. Not a boy, but a man.

 

He sat back down on his seat, watching the landscape moving like a kid watches a film.  

 

The sun had now fully risen, and the train was calling at a small station that no-one cared to descend at, apart Merlin. It all looked the same. From the stones, to the trees, from the birds chirping to the kids playing nearby. Nothing had changed, and yet, he felt like everything had. He wasn’t sure if it was nostalgia or simply the years that had passed by, but walking down the main street felt like walking through a strange memory. It was odd.

The local chippy was still there, with the same faded header. But the artisan wood shop next door had been replaced by a vape shop, looking way to new and polished in its surroundings. The bench that had seen his teenage years was still there, although it had been revarnished, erasing the dents of the past. Through the front window, he waved at Alice, the owner of a small homemade fudge business. Taken aback, the old woman squinted her eyes before breaking into the brightest grin he had ever seen. She could be seen undoing the knot of her sugar stained apron and discarding it on the counter before rushing outside. Merlin had barely the time to ground himself that the woman locked him in a tight embrace, breaking away only to pinch his cheek, high her tip toe to reach him.

 

“Merlin, my boy, it’s really you!” Alice could take her eyes off the young man standing in front of her. “I never thought we'd see you again. The town has missed you, so much. Oh surely you have time for a cuppa! I just made some salted caramel fudge and as I recall, it is your favourite!”

 

“I... it is yeah.” Merlin felt overwhelmed. No-one had forgotten him, and he felt guilty for forgetting them. Alice grabbed his arms and pulled him back into the shop, where the smell brought him back fifteen years ago, where he’d come after school, leave a few pennies on the counter, and bring back home a box of fudge for his mother and he. As an adult now, and thinking about it, there was always more tiny square in that box than he could ever afford. He smiled.

 

Alice placed two cups of tea on the counter and a plate stacked with sweets.

 

“How’s London?” The old woman asked, pushing the plate ever so slightly towards Merlin.

 

“It's fine. Fine. I’m studying, got two jobs on the side. It’s...ok I guess.”

 

“You look like you could do with some holidays...” It was not a scolding, but Alice wore the look that worried mother share all around the world.

 

For only answer, Merlin smiled, and yielded to the plate. He grabbed a piece of fudge and as it melted in his mouth, he looked away. What has his life become that a simple piece of home was bringing him to tears?

 

“I have to go Alice", he spoke once he was able to. The woman nodded, and packed him a selection in a small cardboard box, tying it close with a beautiful bow.

 

“Here you go. You take care of yourself.” She hugged him again, before wooshing him off, hiding away her own tears.

 

He walked down the streets, the knot in his stomach getting bigger and bigger. The convenience store was now replaced by a Tesco express, and he could swear there used to be way less hairdressers in that street. He turned left inbetween two building, finding himself on a public path. He had not thought about this journey in years but his feet had not forgotten. The path quickly became mud, then grass. Walking through the field, he felt like a kid again. He stepped on the two logs by the fence, throwing his legs over, and jumped down onto the next field. He laughed. His shoes were muddy, the bottom of his trousers slightly damp. He kept laughing, stretching his arms above his head as he took in the sighting. The old stone wall was still there, unbothered by the time running its course. The abandoned cottage could be seen on his right, bushes and foliage even wilder than he had recalled.

 

He walked, slowly. A couple with a toddler was walking the other way, the little one giggling loudly at the sheep minding their own business in the field. He jumped above an other fence, his eyes catching the faded public footpath yellow sign. He crossed one more field, and found himself bending to walk through a patch of trees. Had the branches always been this low or had it outgrown the forest? Like a tunnel, he emerged on the other side, he road was just ahead of him, a small house still standing there.

 

A woman was trimming her rosier above the arch of her wooden portal. Merlin stumbled down an uneven floor, fighting through untrimmed weeds. The woman stopped and looked up at him.

 

“Merlin?”

 

“Hi...mum.”

 

____

 

He sat at the dining table, unable to take his eyes off the conservatory. He had always loved the room as a kid, and his mother had made it even more beautiful, nursing plants and flowers on each shelves, pictures of the two of them, and small pottery dishes he recognised from the late potter, Mister Wilson.

 

“I got fudge.” Merlin said, sliding Alice's box accross the table. Hunith could not look elsewhere than her boy.

 

“You look beautiful. I’ve missed you.”

 

“I.. missed you too mum...” and her it was. He broke down. He three himself in her embrace, sobbing. His back was hurting from hunching down, but he could not care less. She smelled of tea and jasmine, her wedding ring was still hanging from her neck, her hair was still tied in a loose bun, a piece of fabric neatly tied to keep the rebel hair from getting into her eyes. She was the same, only lines had appeared on her face, and her brown hair was turning grey. She was still beautiful.

 

“I'm sorry.” Merlin mumbled in her shoulder, scare of letting her go.

 

“Don’t you dare apologise. Now come, the water is warm.”

 

On a small tray, she brought two cups and the tea pot. The same tea pot in which the tannin would make anyone refuse to believe the inside was once as white as the purest porcelain.

 

“I missed you.” Merlin repeated, staring at the mill clouding his cup. For only answer, his mum hummed. He could see she was trying to look fine, but he did not miss the shaking if her hand, nor the difficulty she had to walk the few steps separating them from the kitchen.

 

“How are you?” He laughed at the question, because only his mother would ever bother asking such a mundane question. Because only his mum would care about the answer.

 

“I am... lost. Confused. I am...” She placed her hands on his, nodding along. When he could not speak any more words, she put down her cup.

 

“Merlin... it’s easy to be lost, you moved to a big city, met new people. You were alone, and sometimes, when alone, we forget who we are. But it’s okay.”

 

“I ... I should never have left you alone. I...”

 

“No. I wanted you, and still want you to be happy. To live the life you want. I never once believed you had abandoned me. I sleep better at night now that I ever used to, because I know that somewhere, you are laughing, you are happy.”

 

“But I’m not. At least, I don’t think I am" He bit his bottom lips, looking at the garden. A single magpie was there, perched on a metal flower. He waited. His mother followed his gaze. In silence, they observed the bird. No other magpie ever came. They saluted it. From the neighbour's tree, a magpie emerged, joining the first one. Later than both of them expected, but it came nonetheless.

 

“It seems we grieved too quick.” Hunith said, glancing back at her son.

 

“It would seem so.” Merlin stared at the birds, thoughtful.

 

“You should go freshen up a bit! I’ll fix up something for lunch alright.”

 

With no protest, Merlin ran upstairs, smiling as he feet were sinking into the carpet. One step was slightly higher than the rest and tripped on it, just like he did a thousands time before. Books and letters were laying on each steps, an accumulation of paper older than himself. The bathroom was still green. Apple green. Ghastly colour, but his mum always said it was perfect.

The furthest door was his bedroom. The door was closed. Stickers and writings, memorabilia of his child self, were still proudly displayed on the wood. He opened it, smiling. One of his jacket was still on the bed as he had left it. A book was still on his bedside table, waiting to be read til the end. He picked it up, sitting on the edge of his bed. He flipped the pages, mindlessly, before placing it back on his bookshelf. Dozens and dozens of book that had been locked away. He promised to himself that the day he would have the room for them, he would take them with him  it had not happened yet. Keats, Sartre, Heany. He wondered when did he stopped reading them, when did he stop having the time to read them. On the middle shelf, he ran his fingers along the dozens of ouvrages about Art. He loved Art, paintings and sculptures alike. Always had a particular place in his heart for impressionism. But not as far as believe he could run an Art Gallery . He had a passion which transcribe itself as common knowledge. Because surely, everybody knew about  Caillebotte, Pissarro, Degas and Serov, he thought.

Above this shelf were his history books. A majority regarding Arthurian legends and Irish lore. History, or more like stories. Legends. Tales. Merlin was never one to believe that a pretty woman lived with seven dwarfs, no, but he was willing to believe King Arthur had once walked the Earth. Some find comfort in religion, in spirituality, well he found comfort in these tales of the past, where a too polite knight never dared to ask questions, unknowingly passing right by the Holy Grail from his desire of being the perfect guest. Where a tree could protect a whole town, where tribes would appear from the dark clouds above our heads. Where the earth, the wind, the forests and everything inbetween were forces to be reckon with, where being a hero was not different from being human, where hope is always lingering in the fabric of the world. Where the stories never ends. The promise of return.

 

“I got some baked potatoes and beans, are you okay with that?” Hunith’s came from downstairs.

 

“It’s perfect mum!” Merlin shouted back. “Absolutely perfect" he spoke under his breath, smiling.

 

_________

 

They ate, the food going quickly cold as they both spoke about the last gossips of the town, the London life and the reminiscence of his childhood. By the end of it, Hunith offered him a coffee. He declined. She eyed him for a second and without a word, handed him a can if cider. She grabbed one for herself, not without pouring it in glass, adding a dash of black.

 

“Who is he then?” She dropped, shooting a knowing glance at his son. The pictures on the walls might be the one of a young boy but the person standing before her was unmistakably a man.

 

Merlin was taken aback for a second. Because of course his mother would know.

 

“His name’s Arthur.”

 

“You’ve finally found your king I see.” Hunith laughed softly.

 

“Arthur Pendragon.” Before his mum could say anything else, he shushed her playfully. “He er... he's my boss at the Avalon. Well, I’d like to believe he's also a friend.”

 

“And you'd like him to be more than that.”

 

“Yes. No. It’s... complicated. He is so different mum! He is educated, posh as hell, he's a prat really. But he is... I don’t know.”

 

Hunith nodded, for lack of an answer. They drank in silence for a while. Almost as if she knew Merlin was not done talking, she not once opened her mouth, not even to talk about the weather, which was really cool for the season it should be noted.

 

“I just don’t see what he sees in me mum. I am this poor overworked student who can’t even get up the stairs without crashing down and he is... this successful caring business man and... He is funny, witty, caring and yes, a prat, but a lovable one you know. And you should meet his sister! She is the fiercest woman I ever met, and she is absolutely stunning, from a beauty only enhanced by the kindness of her heart. And she offered me a job...a good one. A once in a lifetime opportunity you know... managing her brand knew Art Gallery, can you believe that? And Arthur got me a voucher...a hundred pounds voucher, just like that? I ... It’s all...” Merlin gestured around, looking at his mom as if she would get his point. Only she didn’t.

 

“I’m your mum, of course I can see what he sees in you my boy. But I feel like Arthur, or his sister for the matter, are not the problem.”

 

“I...what?” Merlin crossed his legs, putting down his can.

 

“Raising you as a single mom was not easy... And I’d like to believe I didn’t do such a bad job. I’m really proud of the man you became. I know...I know we not always had a warm meal on the table and trust me, it still hurts me... And you’ve always been such a compliant kid Merlin. Never asked me for something we could not afford. Walked to school in your holed shoes without a complaint. And when, on the rare occasion I could buy you something, I would ask you what you wanted, and you’d always reply-“

 

“A book.”

 

“A book indeed.” Hunith swallowed her tears, hiding being her glass. “Because, you kept telling me, a brand new pair of shoes would soon be too small and would need to be replace whilst a book-"

 

“A book is forever.”

 

“Forever yes. So I bought you books, getting you clothes from the local charity shop instead. A few pennies for a tee shirt...it did the trick I guess. You always understand the value of money. Always did. Never once complained about being cold, or hungry. Never.”

 

“Because I knew you did your best for the both of us.”

 

“And I can see you’re angry. I can feel your hatred.”

 

“No mum! God no, I don’t hate you, I could never-" he rushed to her, cupping her hand in his.

 

“Not me!” She laughed, passing her hand through his dark hair. “But your hatred is there my boy, and it is misplaced. Don’t be angry at Arthur for being well put financially. Be angry at the state for letting us be this poor.” Hunith tilted her head slightly, as her words made their way to Merlin. He closed his eyes, sitting back down on his chair.  

 

“But when we needed help, money, and the government left us like that, where were people like Arthur mum? Spending thousands on cars and champagne when you were searching through the cushions of the sofa for a few extra coins! Living their hedonistic life, walking on the corpse of the malnourished to afford their new desire! Passing by the homeless and the starved without even blinking an eye! Getting their new suit tailored whilst families up on families where curled up on the sofa hoping that would get them warmer! Where were they when parents skipped meal so their kids could eat? Where were they mum!” Merlin was shouting. He did not realised he was. He was not the shouting kind. Yet here he was. He groaned, kicking his chair back as he stood up, slamming the door on his way to the garden. He needed air. He needed to breath. Maybe he was more like Will than he had imagined. Maybe.

 

Hunith opened the door, and stood by his side. Silently, she offered him a rolled up cigarette, which he gladly took. He was shaking, but he couldn’t cry.

 

“Alice was giving us some fudge. Mr Seagan fixed the plumbing of the house. Freya's parents gave me their old changing table when you were born. And some clothes. Your teachers always kindly paid for your tickets when your class was going to the theatre. We are a working class  town Merlin. Noone here is a millionaire. We just all helped each other in our misery. Maybe you never so the difference, but it was there. Who’s to say that down in London, Arthur never financed a small business? Helped a shelter? And maybe he did not. But who are we to blame these kids who grew up in opulence? If their parent never taught them what the world outside their golden bedroom was like, how are they meant to know?”

 

Merlin stubbed his cigarette in the nearest plant pot. He had no answer. Hunith smiled at his, and came back inside quietly.

 

Merlin grabbed a seat on the garden chair, discarding his phone on the metal table. A slight hangover was hitting him, his temples beating as loud as his heart. With a sigh, he dialled the Rising Sun café, apologising to Gaius for missing his shift, to which the old man laughed, because Merlin was off that day.

 

Truth be told, Gaius had waited for Merlin to show up for his morning shift. And the young man had never shown. But he knew how tired he was, and once he had him on the phone, he was certain he had heard Merlin's mother’s voice in the background. And he could hear how apologetic he was, saying he would make it up to him and work extra the next week and how he promised it would never happened again and Gaius just....couldn’t handle seeing him like that. So instead, he had lied, telling Merlin he was meant to be off, just so the young man would sleep soundly at night. It had been the first time Merlin had missed a day, and yes, Gaius had to break an extra sweat during the morning rush but nothing he could not handle. He believed the youth were worth being taken care of, so he’d take care of Merlin. A white lie never hurt anyone, thought Gaius as he hanged up.

 

Merlin laughed, starring at his phone. He really needed to take pictures of his rotas instead of pretending he could memorize it then.

 

It was only then than he came back inside, and he spent the rest of the afternoon playing card games with his mum with the telly playing in the background, this time talking about the weather.

 

“It’s really cool for the season don’t you think?”

 

“You should see London mum, I haven’t worn a scarf in a while!”

 

“It’s not because it feels like you don’t need it that you should not wear it young man!”

 

“I’m wearing a jumper and a jacket, it’s fine really.”

 

“Well, at least carry a scarf in your bag, we never know.”

 

“I will, promise.”

 

At around six, he caught a train back to London, with a sandwich in his bag, a bottle of water, extra change to buy his ticket, a few packed digestives and a box of paracetamol after he had complained about his small headache. He really had missed his mum.

 

On the journey back, he prepared himself for the impending scold from Will. He decided to stop at Tesco to get his flatmate a four pack.

 

He dropped everything once in his flat, kicked off his shoes and just threw himself on the couch. Will was going on and on about how worried he had been and how just a text would have done and yada yada yada.

 

“Are you even listening Merlin?” Will snapped his fingers in front of the bartender.

 

“Yeah, no... what?”

 

“I said, aren’t you meant to work at the Avalon tonight anyway?”

 

“Oh shit.”

 

He jumped up on his feet, and grabbed his shoes. Will threw him his jacket and the keys. The door closed behind a Merlin storming out. Will rushed to the window, sliding it open.

 

“Don’t think you’ll escape our little discussion mate!”

 

Merlin ran to the underground station, laughing.

 

 

Notes:

I shall end their suffering soon, I promise...sorry xX

Chapter 9: Bar Italia

Notes:

Oops, this chapter is four years late, soz

Developped schizophrenia, got cheated on, tried to end my life twice and I'm being evicted as no-fault evictions are still legal in England.

You know how it is ¯\_(ツ)_/¯'

Aaaaaanyway, we're back baby! Enjoy!

Dehydrated. A banging headache. The paracetamol had not really helped his hangover. Merlin was dreaming of a Lucozade or any drink of the sort. And for the first time since he started working at the Avalon, his stomach was heavy and twisting. Granted, that could also be the alcohol. Mixing wine and lager was not a good idea.

He got on the underground, groaning at the way too loud noises around. His shoulder felt strangely light and he realised he had left his messenger bag at the flat. Great. He patted his pocket and was relieved to find his phone and keys. At least he got those.

The draft in the carriage made him aware of his naked neck and a shiver went down his spine.

Oh, he was cold and getting more hangover as the time passed. And exhausted. And thirsty. And grumpy. And really not in the mood to work. Or see people.

He got out in Soho and took a second to take a deep breath. He might be sick. No, nevermind, it's staying down. That jacket potatoe got dangerously close to seeing the pavement. Or what would be left of that jacket potatoe. Bile. It might have been bile.

For fuck's sake. He is a mess. A tragic mess. Faces are staring at him, probably feeling sorry. His stubble, his lack of warm clothes and the constant shaking of his cold body is making him blend with the homeless, the addicts and the lads out on the lash.

He managed to push the door and walked towards the bar, not without pain. Heavily, he sat at one of the stool by the bar, cursing under his breath. What a way to get fired: get drunk at your boss' flat, and show up in the same clothes, stinking of booze, grimacing. At least, he was not late, which was a shock.

"Yeah okay, no. Gwen!" Merlin held his head in pain as Leon shouted accross the room.

Gwen appeared, half dressed, still tying her hair up. Every steps echoing in the room felt like a torture. You know that chinese torture where a drop of water falls in your forehead. Drip. Drip. Drip. Well, exactly the same, where each steps goes "plic ploc" through every single bones in your body. Add to that your pulse giving a live jam session of drum and bass in your ears; one would wish to be dead. Not to be dramatic, of course.

"Oh Merlin." Her voice was soft and motherly, yet all Merlin could feel was shame and embarrassment. He should not have come. Why did he come anyway? He could have called in sick. Hell, he could have resigned over the phone and never set foot in this place ever again. He was still on probabation anyway. He'd need to double check his contract.

"I'm fine. It's all fine. Give me five and I'll start my shift."

With difficulties, Merlin reached for a bottle of water that was abandoned on the bar. He ached all over. But what a sweet release was that water.

"You're not working tonight mate." Leon spoke matter-of-factly. That's the first time Merlin heard the man talking like a DM. It was quite intimidating actually. He felt like a child who had just disappointed his father. "I've sent Arthur home, trust me to do the same with you. Chop chop."

Gwen disappeared briefly to the staff room and came back with a twenty pound note for a cab.

Any other day, Merlin would have tried to argue. Arguing being sent home, and arguing being given some money but right now, he did not have it in him to do so. His bed sounded like the promised land. He yearned for it. He didn't even have it fully in him to worry about Arthur having been sent home as well. That's a tomorrow problem. Everything is a tomorrow problem.

__________________________

Merlin winced at his alarm and threw his phone on the floor. He had lost count. Which day of the week is it? Where does he need to be? Has he missed any uni deadline?

Against his will, he got up and jumped in the shower straight away, in a vain attempt to feel human again. The water running down his body helped, a lot. Roughly drying himself up, he threw on some underwear and stumbled to the kitchen. Will was there on the sofa, cup of tea in hand, watching BBC news, for some reason. At least, Merlin now knew that it was Tuesday, 7.34am.

"Why are you already up mate?" Merlin questioned, turning the kettle on.

"Haven't slept," Will replied, seemingly entranced by the news. "The end of the world is nigh. Stock market are crashing, wars all over the globe, Labour acting like Reform. It's time to get back to Wales. London is gonna be the first placed to be wiped out once the nuclear war starts. I'm gonna buy a tent, and go live in a field or something. Go back to my roots y'know. Maybe grow some vegetables. I heard potatoes are easy. Served the Irish well eh. Get a dog. Something like that." He cracked open an other cider, an other eight or nine empty cans at his feet.

Merlin didn't have it in him to have that conversation. Will did that every other month: wanting to abandon everything behind, live off-grid, yada yada yada. Then he'd drink more, and forget.

Merlin could see how the world would look at them and feel pity. They were quite the sad picture really. But no-one understood that it was the world that made them this way. They were not tailored for it. It's hard to play the capitalistic game when you don't agree with the rules. So they made do.

 

Weekend ravers, packs of quavers. Blurry nights and Rizla papers. Bus pass savers, record players: turn them up and wake the neighbours. Find your saviour in a Jager, drink it now - regret it later. Dodgy flavours, misbehaviour, morning afters, mashed potatoes. Britain. God save our Great Britain.
Can of Stella, fish and chips and
Hollyoaks and bad decisions. Hypocrites and politicians. Two pound scratch cards: on a mission. Mug of Tetley’s; its tradition.
Super-noodles; malnutrition. Broke and hella skint, sign on benefits. Eye for an eye; do a line for the hell of it. Prime-time deficit, ASBO, dеcadent. Living on the streets of Britrain eh*.

And Merlin was not a fool. At least, not entirely. He was very well aware that he was self-sabotaging himself. Morgana was right. Life is a lottery but Merlin felt like he didn't deserve to win. He doesn't even know what he is punishing himself for. Is he even punishing himself? There's comfort in misery.

Being okay is a scary thing. Being okay mentally? Being okay financially? Being okay in a relationship? What is left of life once you're okay?

To help yourself, you need to want to help yourself. And seeing Will this morning, it hurts. You never want to moralise your mates, but Merlin just wished he could shake up Will, just this once. And maybe he needed to start by shaking himself up first.

Fuck.

Years of hard labour to turn down the offer Morgana made him, under the false pretences of... of what exactly? A fear of stability, an aversion of commitment, a disgust of money?

Losing himself. That's what Merlin is scared off. Who is he, if he is not this working-class struggling student, borderline alcoholic?

His train of thoughts was cut short when his phone vibrated loudly on the kitchen counter. It was a text from Arthur. Why is everybody already awake? He wondered if Arthur hadn't slept either.

Merlin finished to make his coffee before opening the text. He needs that coffee. His heart jumped out of his chest. He doesn't know what that text could be. He is done trying to predict Arthur.

He let out a frustrated noise at the text. Arthur wanted a talk. Great. That could mean all and nothing. Jackshit. He offered to meet up for breakfast. Arthur declined.

He had never texted Arthur and is very uncertain about how to type. Should he use emojis? Proper grammar? Stupid texting rules, always confused him.

Arthur offered a French restaurant, 6pm today and sent the address. Before Merlin could reply that he was working tonight, Arthur told him they both have the night off. Fine.

Merlin downed his coffee and rushed to the Rising Sun to start his shift.

Stairs, bus, walk, Rising sun, say hi to Gaius, put the apron on, brew a coffee, display the pastries, say hi to the two elderly ladies; two black coffees. A tea cake today? Go on, treat yourself. Raspberry or Strawberry jam? Marmelade? Sure thing. Extra butter? You got it. I'll bring it over.

Gaius raised an eyebrow at Merlin throughout the day. Something was off. Merlin was his bubbly self behind the counter but something felt off. Gaius made a mental note to keep an extra close eye on the young man.

At the end of his shift, Gaius threw a bag at him with four sandwiches and two pastries in it, and ordered Merlin to take it home. He didn't fight it.

The thing is you see: Merlin is clumsy, probably somewhat depressed, might have an alcohol issue and might benefit from therapy but Merlin doesn't have anxiety. That's one thing he has always been thankful for. He gets stressed, before an exam or for a trial shift, but he gets stressed a normal amount.

Not today. This meet up with Arthur later on has been playing on his mind all day. His hands are shaking. His blood is pumping. He thought he was having a heart attack on his way back from the café. His breathing is erratic, his chest hurts. It hurts so much. It's tight. So tight. Breathing. He needs to breath. He can't breath. It hurts. It's not working. Lungs are not working. Fuck. Ok. In and out yeah. Fuck. Not in in. In out. Fuck.

He gets up the stairs. He thinks. Or maybe he is sitting at the bottom of them? Well he is definitely thinking about going home. Few steps. In and out. Why is crying? Fuck, why the tears. It hurts. In and out. He's choking. Breath. Stop shaking. For god's sake, stop it. In and out. In and out. In and out. In and out. He's alive. In and out. In and out. In and out. Body's weak. In and out. In and out. In and out. In and out. Here we go. Ok. Let's stand up aye? One step at the time. Lightheaded. That's it. That's the front door. Keys. Open. Close. Sofa. Will must have gone to bed, finally.

In and out. In and out. In and out. In and out.

Well fuck.

He has about three hours to get ready. He needs a rest first. And some water. Perhaps a cider? No, no water will do.

 

Once he finally managed to stand up from the sofa, he could feel his chest tighten again trying to think about what to wear. Why is he this stressed?

Many reasons actually: losing his job, being scolded by his boss, being told by Arthur that they should never see each other again, not finding the place, being late again, losing his keys on the way. What if he breaks his legs crossing the road? Anything. Everything. All of it is source of stress right now.

 

With great difficulties, he is now dressed, his hair is somewhat fixed, he got two pieces of toast in him and ready to rock'n'roll.

He arrived in front of the Riviera on time, and felt extremely out of place. He should have made the assumption that Arthur would bring him to a posh restaurant. He walked up to the Maitre D' who politely greeted Merlin.

"Do you have a reservation?" Well, either the staff is French, either they are contracted to put on a French accent, which would actually be hilarious. He had not discussed a reservation with Arthur but judging from the place, one was needed.

"Pendragon?" Merlin asked shyly. He almost felt like a hacker, trying to break into a restaurant.

"This way, thank you". The maitre d' started walking towards the bay window. There's a delicate smell of white wine and grilled meat in the air. The lights are dimmed. The place is relatively quiet; couples enjoying a bottle, business men having serious conversation, what appeared to be a mother and daughter having a catch up over some oysters.

And there he was. Alone at the table, contemplating the London view, sun slowly setting over the city. His suit jacket rests perfectly on the back of the chair, the lights of the chandelier dancing on his silver ring. He didn't seem to have noticed Merlin just yet.

"After you." The Maitre d' gestured towards the table and politely nodded at the two mean. "May I get you something to drink?"

"A bottle of Vacqueyras, thank you" Arthur closed the wine menu and handed it back, smiling at the man as he left.

Merlin sat down, way too aware of his surrendings.

"Hey" he starts, at the same as Arthur attempts to speak.

The blond softly laughs. "Yeah, hey."

He's blushing. Arthur is blushing.

"Like I said: I do diners, and you don't do flings, so here we are." Arthur is trying his best to not look at Merlin. This feels way too formal, way too serious but it has to be done.

"I... it's... " Merlin is overwhelmed. Like a fish out of the water. There's too much to look at so his eyes always go back on Arthur but looking at the man overwhelms him and what's that? Lovely tapestry that is? An original you think?

Arthur fidgets with his ring, wishing the wine would be there already. And just like manifestation, a waiter arrives, bottle in hand. In a deadly silent, he opens it, and pour a few drops in a glass, handing it in the middle of the table. Arthur grabs it, gives it a quick sniff and dips his lips in the red liquid. "That's perfect, thank you". The waiter pours the two glasses and quietly leaves the table.

"Okay Merlin, I'm gonna be blunt: I really like you and I would like this to be our first date. However, a few stuff you need to know about me: I'm a disaster at these things. I often misplace my priorities such as work vs private life, I will try my best to understand you, and where you come from and... and I'm not out to my father." Arthur took a deep breath, having forgotten this basic human function. He does that way too often when around Merlin. Merlin-induced asthma, could that be a thing? He'll do an AskmyGP tomorrow. With a shaky hand, he grabs his glass, glancing over at Merlin, whose eyes are still on the tapestry.

"I am quite... uncomfortable" is all Merlin can mutter.

"I'm sorry, I should not have- I... I'll go, I'll.. I'm sor-"

"No no Arthur. It's not you. It's the place. Am I not underdressed? I feel like I'm sticking out. People are looking at me."

Arthur laughs. An awkward laugh.

"They are looking at me. They know my family, my father, and well... I'm having diner with a man so yeah, they are staring a bit, sorry."

Merlin lets out a small sigh of relief and finally attempts to try the wine. And it is good wine. Fruity, with some notes of prune and cherry. Quite a full body. A velvet texture. It is lovely.

"Happy to start with some charcuterie and olives and we can decide on the mains later on?"

"Yeah...yeah okay". Merlin closed the menu and allowed Arthur to take control. The waiter stopped by and Arthur placed the order.

Silence fell at the table. Comfortable yet full of unspoken thing.

"Can I take you out to a spoons for our second date?" Merlin joked, giving a shy smile to the blond man.

"Spoons?"

"Wetherspoon?" Merlin tilted his head, waiting for Arthur's confirmation.

"Never been." The Pendragon actually looked embarrassed at this statement.

"Well, you haven't lived until you've had a fry up on a floral blue plates and a pint for less than a tenner."

The waiter placed a wooden board with what appeared to be five or six different meats, some crackers and bread, butter and chutney, and a small ramekin of olives on the table.

"Ah yes, Mortadella, the classic French charcuterie" Merlin laughed, genuinely amused by it.

"Oh, you know your charcuterie!"

"I'm poor, not uncultured you twat!" Merlin grabbed some bread and butter. "I worked in cafés long enough to know my ingredients. Gaius is very proud of his food, and over the years, I got to work with a lot of lovely things. You got some rillette over here, some Bayonne ham, some jambon persillés, saucisson, some terrine which looks like it might be venison and mushroom? And the mortadella, for some reason."

The conversation followed, talking about food, wines, past experiences, favourite dishes, stuff they hated and everything in between, picking at the platter as they spoke. It felt easy, it felt natural. The wine was going down slowly. They were here to enjoy themselves, not getting drunk.

They talked about Merlin's studies, his mom, Will. They talked about Arthur's love for football, Leon, Morgana. Stories. Anecdotes. The ones that have been told thousands of time but still bring the same joy. They talked about it all, but not them. No, not them. What they were, what they wanted: they avoided the subject like professional slalom athletes.

They had a beautiful beef rib to share as a main. Merlin pretended he didn't see the "125" next to it on the menu. The potatoes were amazing, the beef was melting in his mouth. It was like something he had never tasted before.

He was a big believer than a high price is not a synonym to quality but when it came to food, he new that more often than not: the price was justified. Now, a grand spent on a pair of shoes was just silly.

"No yeah, Gwen has been there from the start. She used to work for my father actually and it didn't go well. She lasted about three weeks, told my father to jog on. It was the first time I saw someone talking back to Uther. I was in utter shock - and awe. After she left, I asked her out on a date. In the middle of the conversation, she dropped that she new that I was not... that way inclined. We still decided to 'date' just to see the look on my father's face. Suddenly, Gwen was this strong independent woman in his eyes, the perfect woman for me and all that jazz. I still think he's annoyed at me for 'breaking it off' actually. But oh well, we had a good laugh about it at the time."

"So your father - Uther - he doesn't know that you're..." Merlin felt like the whole room fell silent. Oh that was a personal question. A very personal one. Unlike all what they had discussed until now.

"Ah. Well. He knows and doesn't accept it? Or he knew and forgot? Or he doesn't know. Lord knows what goes through his head. He found me with a boy when I was a teenage boy. Only talks about me marrying a nice woman. When I opened Avalon, he thought it was the most depraved thing ever - when he learnt it was a mixed club, he was suddenly more accepting. He has that hope, that glint in his eyes that old men have. Sometimes I feel like if I were to come out to him, it would kill him. I'm not even sure it's rooted in homophobia? Or maybe it is. Very old fashion my father. Always dreamt of the perfect family. A mother, a father, two children - a boy and a girl. Playing football and ballet. A week away in Corwall in Spring. That type of stuff. But mother passed away. I don't remember her. And I think my dad is wishing on me what was so unfairly taken away from him. Anyway, sorry, that was - nevermind. What about you?"

"What about me?"

"Are you out? To your mother I mean." It was strange. Arthur felt an ache like he had never felt before. Sitting down, having an actual conversation with this man, it was different. So different. While he was barely able to contain himself in Merlin's presence, he was now hit with the fact that he loved this man. Lord. Love. People talk about unconditional love. The Greek had this thing, the different types of love: Philia, Pragma, Storge, Eros Ludus, Mania, Philautia, Agape and Meraki. Never in his life did Arthur think he would rethink his whole Greek philosophy over a cheese board. But he knew, from then on, than no matter what were to happen: he had found some sort of peace within his soul. Not the dependency type, or the unhealthy type. A form of hope. Hope through love. He had been scared to be just his father but no. He can love. He is loving.

"Oh yeah, been out to my mother most of my life" Merlin started, bringing Arthur back into the conversation, "I don't think I ever had to explicitly come out. She always knew. My mom's like that. She always knows. She was scared actually. For me, not for her. M'coming from a small place, I was the only gay, well, the only one who was out and it was quite the talk at the time and my mom was scared something would happen to me. I never was scared though. Don't know if it was because I was young and careless or something. I paid it no mind. Never had any angst regarding that either. Out of everything in my life: me being gay was always the last of my worries." Merlin grinned, from that grin that is so him.

Arthur found himself smiling, sadly. Right here, right now, he felt like Merlin was the richer one.

Their feet brushed slightly under the table. They both pretended nothing happened.

"Should I take it?" Merlin asked bluntly, shoving a piece of bread in his mouth.

"Come again?"

"I haven't come yet."

"Shut up."

"Do you think I should take Morgana's offer?" That was new as well. Asking for life advice. Merlin would ask things to his mom, yes, but that was it. He was very much a 'I'm doing my own thing leave me alone' type of man. He couldn't care less about what people thought about his life choices, or what he should do.

"Well. From a money point of view: you'd be a salaried employee so it would be stable income. What it means for your university courses and/or the Rising Sun: your schedule might need readjusting as you can't be at two places at once. As for what you want to do: if Art is something that speaks to you, I would argue it's an opportunity that might happen just once in a lifetime. I don't mean it badly but for someone from your background: these jobs are harder to come by. You need contacts, you need to network and how are you meant to network when your time is spent working your arse off to pay an overpriced flat above an Indian."

"A chip shop. Please." Merlin laughed but he understood the point Arthur was trying to make.

"Sorry. A chip shop. I'm not gonna lie however: Morgana can be a tough boss."

"Well, you're my boss."

"Touché."

"I'll think about it."

Before they knew it, three hours had passed, dessert plates were empty, an espresso was being sipped.

"Right," Merlin took a deep breath, "I really enjoyed tonight. I truly did. It was lovely. The food was amazing, the company was charming."

"But?" Arthur was deflated. There's something so tragic about being told you are lovely, and yet not enough, or just not right.

"But I prefer Italian food. Make a note for next time."

"Bastard."

"It's part of my charm." Merlin winked and finished the last few drops of wine he had left. When it came time to pay, Merlin grabbed his wallet, almost out of habit or politeness or something. He didn't know. Arthur raised an eyebrow, almost amused and shooshed him off.

Back outside, standing in the cold breeze of London city, the one that smells like piss and concrete, they stared at each other. For what felt like a very long time.

"Right," they said in unison, and laughed, awkwardly.

"Do you want to... er... fancy coming back to mine?" Arthur managed to get out that sentence without stuttering more than three times. He surprised himself.

"I. Fuck. I really really want to say yes. I do. God, I so want to. But I'll say no. Not today, not tonight."

Arthur nodded at that and gave a small smile, slowly backing off to get back to his car. Merlin swore under his breath, grabbed the blond man by the shoulder and pulled him in for a kiss.

Time stopped. Apart from the pedestrians grumbling at them standing on the pavement - they had places to go you know. Bloody London.

It lasted two seconds, or maybe five, ten? It didn't matter. It was perfect.

As they pulled apart, Arthur exhaled slowly, having forgotten to breath there.

"I better be on my way. But I'll see you tomorrow yeah?" Merlin tightened his scarf around his neck as he spoke and without waiting for an answer, he dashed out, disappearing down the road, his silhouette blending in wirh the other souls going from a point A to a point B.

Playing with his car keys in one hand, Arthur couldn't stop bringing his other hand up to his lips, frozen on that pavement for one more second, before allowing himself to leave this moment as well. He was done for. Arthur Pendragon had a heart. And it had just been stolen.

Notes:

* lyrics from "Right here right now", fatboy slim retake from Ren. Highly recommend a listen.

Well well well. Hello again y'all. A lot has happened. Life is funny like that.

Hope you've enjoyed this chapter, a small one to get myself back on track, and I'll see you at the next one xx