Chapter Text
“Merlin!” Gwen said. It took her three attempts before she caught his attention. She told him as such once Merlin had yanked his headphones off his head and stared, uncomprehending when she launched into a missive of apologies.
Merlin waved his hands. “Wait. Stop—Gwen!”
Gwen paused.
Merlin smiled. “You’re going to have to start from the beginning.” He indicated to his headphones. “I missed it all.”
“I’m not going to even contemplate the amount of times you’ve missed someone telling you something because you’ve always got music in your ears,” she said, eyeing them. “But what I was saying, was that I can’t make it tonight. My father’s in hospital again and…” she trailed off.
“Oh, God,” Merlin said, “you don’t need to apologise for that.” He swivelled his chair around so that he faced her properly, turning away from the white glare of his monitor, the screen lined with code.
“Is he okay?” Merlin asked.
Gwen shook her head. “He’s okay. They need to run some tests again.” Merlin stood and drew her into a hug. She hugged him back, her arms winding around his waist to squeeze before she disentangled herself with a self-conscious laugh. “I’ll come next time,” she promised. “Did you want me to tell Arthur?”
“I’m on my way up for another meeting,” Merlin said. “Third one today.” He rolled his eyes. Uther was notoriously fond of meetings. “Hold on, let me finish this and I’ll join up.” He planted a knee on his seat and leaned forward to type in another string, saved his work and grabbed his gear.
“It’s been ages since we went out for drinks with the old team,” Gwen said as they walked through the basement level, avoiding stacks of knee-high computer parts and arcane piles of technology.
Merlin had found a case of floppy discs when he’d first secured the office. He had been excited about the potential treasure trove before realising that none of his work stations supported 3.5’s.
“Team drinks implies it was the team. It was the five of us,” Merlin pointed out. “Then Leon went on vacation, Lance is staying sober, and now your father… We’re down to two now.” He feigned a shudder. “Want me to come and visit your old man? He could do with a few more visitors, yeah?”
“He could,” Gwen began, “but I don’t think the nurses would appreciate it. Gets too excited they think.” She nudged him with an elbow. “Because you keep sneaking him sweets.”
Merlin grinned and stepped into the elevator. The doors closed and they stared at their distorted reflection, intercepted at the centre by the Pendragon company logo, a circle with a dragon silhouette nested in the middle, and the motto, VISION FOR THE WORLD, stamped beneath.
Merlin remembered the first time he’d noticed it and had about bit through his lip to keep from laughing. The person in the lift with him at the time had noticed, though, and tilted his head toward him. Merlin had pointed and said something along the lines of, “Well, it’s a bit cocky, don’t you think? I mean, it’s not like it’s NASA.”
The guy had given him a look, and Merlin had ended up following him to the room reception had informed him that the interview was taking place in; and then the guy had turned, held out a hand, and said, “Arthur Pendragon,” and Merlin had promptly shit a brick.
Still. Though. Auspicious beginnings and all that; Merlin had scored the job anyway.
Gwen and Merlin parted ways at level two. Gwen went back to her division while Merlin peeled off in the direction of Arthur’s office. The closer he got, the more he could hear his voice—raised and exasperated, and Merlin slowed his pace, detoured for the kitchenette which was tucked into the corner next to the industrial photocopier machine, and grabbed a handful of packaged cookies.
Morgana left Arthur’s office, dressed in a sharp pin-stripe suit. She strode towards him on her high heels and gave him a tight smile. “Talk some sense into him,” she said and continued towards her office at the end of the hall, leaving him in the wake of her perfume.
“Okay?” Merlin said. He shook his head in an effort to clear it and moved to enter Arthur’s office, shutting the door after him with a muted click.
Arthur’s office was the exact opposite of Merlin’s den, as Arthur called it; and Merlin remembered the exact pinch of Arthur’s mouth when he’d joined Merlin in the basement—like he wanted to point out the fact Merlin was gambling with asbestos poisoning but also didn’t want to bring a lawsuit onto his father’s company.
“I’ve checked,” Merlin had said. “There’s no asbestos.”
“Well, thank God for that,” Arthur had said, “But there’s also no sunlight, no airflow and shall we just call you Gollum because that’s all you’ll be doing down here—cooing over your code and scurrying away at the first threat of civilisation.”
“I’ll prop open a window,” Merlin said with an easy shrug.
“Jesus Christ.”
In contrast, Arthur’s office was an open space design with a high ceiling and tall windows. A desk stood in the middle, with a central computer and a monitor set on each side. Walking in, it was always easy to miss Arthur behind his computer, and Merlin had wondered if he used it to his advantage, ducking down whenever Sophia—his PA—popped her head in with another message from so-and-so.
“Arthur,” Merlin called out. “I bring gifts. They come in”—he checked the packets—“vanilla cream, jam, or shortbread.”
“Cut the crap, Merlin,” Arthur said, but still took a vanilla biscuit. “There’s no bribing a Pendragon.” He stuffed the biscuit into his mouth and took out a handkerchief to wipe his hands, then stuffed it back into his eight-hundred dollar suit.
“No, I…” Did people really use handkerchiefs? He put his collection of snacks on the corner of Arthur’s desk.
“It looks like it’s going to be a late one today. Legal came by this afternoon while I was in a meeting. They left this on my desk.” Arthur handed Merlin a printed out email conversation.
“A Cease and Desist? What the…” His eyes scanned over the paper.
Arthur crossed his arms, which nearly ripped the seams of the sleeves and served to make him look more pompous than usual.
Merlin felt a heat rising to his ears and threw the stack of papers back onto Arthur’s desk. “But this is my code! I created the software!”
“We called the lawyers, they are going over it now.” Arthur’s phone started ringing.
“No, I can prove it. Give me a few days to compile everyth—”
Arthur picked up the phone call mid-conversation and when Merlin shot him a glare he turned around and continued the call, staring out of one of the tall windows overlooking London’s skyline.
Merlin seethed and walked around Arthur’s desk to pick another cookie. Its crumbs settled down on Arthur’s desk chair as he stared at one of the pop-up chat notifications on his screen, in a window certainly not destined for work. A user called Havoc84 had sent Arthur an animated gif-file of a man soaping up his cock in the shower. Below it were the words ‘like this?’
He stared at it for a minute or so, entranced. It was a really good cock. Then he realized he was looking at Arthur’s screen, and at his very private conversation. So, it was like that, was it? He turned around and saw that Arthur just ended his call.
For a moment he panicked.
“Okay, the lawyer we need is flying in this weekend and he’ll start processing it on Monday. So it looks like drinks are still on.” Arthur locked his phone and pocketed it.
Merlin scooted away from the desk, slippery like an eel, and made for the door. “Looks like you’ve got a date already, mate.” When he turned around he saw Arthur’s face falter when he noticed the gif on his screen. Merlin resisted the urge to chuckle, but a small snort escaped him.
"That's not," Arthur began. "I wasn't expecting—" He sighed, closed the screen, straightened, and said with an even voice, "You won't mention this to anyone."
“Why should I care?” He didn’t really. Arthur might look great in his designer suits and even better when he dressed casually when they went out for team drinks, but he was a royal twat and that put him straight into the lead category of ‘certainly not Merlin’s type’. “Oh, Gwen’s not joining us, by the way. They’re running tests on her father’s condition again and she’s keeping him company.”
For a moment longer Arthur stared at him, assessing the situation. Then he shrugged and locked his computer for the night. “I thought they discharged him already.”
“Seems not.” If he wasn’t mistaken, Merlin thought he saw Arthur’s cheeks were coloured. Perhaps he was making a bigger deal out of this than Merlin was. “I’m going to grab my things. Meet you out front?”
“Sure.” Arthur picked up his smartphone again and started furiously typing a lengthy email.
“Oh, and… for that,” Merlin pointed vaguely in the direction of his monitor—he wasn’t going to let him off too easily—“the first two rounds are on you!”
“Fuck you, Merlin.”
“You wish!” He shouted and slipped out of the room, back down to his cosy basement to grab his jacket and his bag.
As he said goodbye to the CTO, Gaius, and to Gilli, the junior back-end developer, he couldn’t get the moving images of the gif out of his head.
He put on his jacket, pulled the cap of his hoodie over his head and clocked out, all the while trying to put the uneasy heat in his abdomen to rest. A couple of pints would solve that beautifully.
*
So, it turned out that a couple of pints, paid for by Arthur of course, did not solve it beautifully at all. They sat together and joked about the office and about colleagues. The topic quickly turned, as it often did, to Virtual Reality porn and this time, Merlin noticed, Arthur had a different approach.
When Gwen had joined their banter about it previously, Arthur was all big talk about the realism of women’s bodies and the bounce of their breasts. Gwen, in her capacity as lead designer, was an advocate of true realism, if anything, and she had even spoken at several conferences about it. There was none of that to be had today. And so Arthur gave the bouncing breasts a miss as well.
“Do you know how many people would stay home if we really made that product?” Arthur looked around at the rest of the people at the bar. “Most of these guys would be at home right now.”
“I doubt it, mate.” Merlin shook his head. “It will never be real enough. I might add it to my bucket list though. Besides, different people like different things.” Merlin regarded Arthur, who had changed into a dark red shirt that had no right to fit that well across his chest.
“So what, you just adjust the parameters a little, and…” Arthur made a gesture with his hands, pulling them further apart.
“Oh God, Arthur, I didn’t realise you were a size queen.”
Arthur choked on his pint and sputtered, “That’s not what I meant. What the hell?”
“No need to make such a big deal out of it, mate.”
“Shut up, Merlin.”
“Fine, fine. I’m going to take a leak.”
*
Arthur watched him leave through the thick crowds and resisted the urge to pick up his phone where Havoc84 might be sending more stuff, whoever it was anyway. Right now he wasn’t in the mood for that at all. Merlin’s discovery had soured that fantasy, and now he was suffering endless teases during what should have been a smooth dive into the weekend, slicked up with liquor and gently easing him into a groggy Saturday.
The evening seemed to be destined for jabs at his expense, instead of the other way round. The worst part was that he’d started to fancy him. It hadn’t started all the way back when he’d brought Merlin on board, which he’d questioned himself over. But he’d had to acknowledge over time that Merlin had proved himself somewhat of a genius when it came to software development.
The realisation had snuck up on him that while everyone expected a perfect attitude from him without ever really getting to know him, Merlin had treated him the opposite; Merlin didn’t care particularly what Arthur did, but called him out if he was being an arse about it. And he rather enjoyed his company for it. Today was different, and Merlin was somehow poking his nose into his private affairs and making crappy jokes about who and what he fancied.
As Merlin returned, Arthur saw that he was suddenly distracted by a bloke at the bar who launched himself at him and enveloped him into a huge hug. Merlin hugged him back. Arthur narrowed his eyes.
He looked at the bloke, whose face was hidden by his half long hair. He was wearing dark snug jeans and a light grey T-shirt which exposed his arms. Quite nice arms, Arthur thought to himself. Merlin seemed to be delighted to see him, judging by how he kept his hand on the other’s shoulder longer than necessary.
They spoke for a few moments and Merlin pointed at Arthur, pushing at the guy’s shoulder to guide him along. Arthur pretended to be busy on his phone, unlocked the screen and promptly stared at an unread message notification from Havoc84. He decided not to open it.
“Hey, Arthur,” Merlin called out.
He put his phone away.
“This is my friend from university. We shared a dorm.”
Arthur looked up and froze.
“Ah, yeah. I think we’ve met,” the bloke said.
Despite his longer hair and scruffier cheeks, Arthur recognised Gwaine as a one-night-stand from a few years ago, picked up on the other side of town and good for a few tumbles over the span of a weekend. He didn’t extend a hand, just nodded.
“Yeah, well,” Gwaine said as the awkwardness increased. He grinned and shrugged.
“Come on Arthur, don’t be such an… oh.” Merlin’s eyes went round as saucers, “OH!”
“Aw, Merlin,” Gwaine said with a tease in his voice, putting a casual arm around Merlin’s shoulder. “You can’t expect me to come crawling back to you?”
For the second time that day Arthur’s face faltered. This time his eyes were round as saucers.
Merlin lowered his head, brows knotted.
“What is this, some sort of joke?” Arthur growled.
Gwaine pulled his arm back and lifted his hands apologetically. “I’m sorry, I thought you guys were out on a date.”
They both yelled “No!” at the same time.
Gwaine burst out laughing. “Did I just out you? Sorry, man.” He patted Merlin on the back. “Come on mate, better out than in. Besides, he can handle it.” He pointed vaguely in Arthur’s direction and smirked. “He can take more than he lets on.”
“Jesus Christ, Gwaine,” Arthur swore.
“Yeah well, cat’s out of the bag.” Merlin sat down again and downed the rest of his half-dead pint.
Gwaine turned a chair around and straddled it, folding his arms over the back rest. “Just so you know, it was all purely casual with Merlin.”
Merlin sunk his head into his hands and groaned. “Shut up, Gwaine.”
This time Arthur laughed somewhat hysterically at Merlin, “You’ve been giving me shite all evening, and all the while, you…”
“Oh, sorry,” Gwaine said, picking up Arthur’s pint and taking a sip. “I wasn’t interrupting something here, was I?”
“Merlin here was just telling me about putting VR porn on his bucket list,” Arthur offered, hoping to unnerve Merlin just a bit more in payback.
“Oh yes, your famous bucket list, how’s that coming along?”
Famous? Arthur thought. These guys went way back, it seemed.
“Dismal, really,” Merlin shook his head and played with one of the coasters.
“Well, I know what’s on my list. I’m heading over to The Rising Sun, and you two are coming with me.”
“Not that place,” Arthur sighed. He’d attempted to keep his personal feelings out of his tone and kept his face impassive when Merlin shot him a smirk.
“Oh, come on,” Gwaine was saying, oblivious. He reached out and pinched the sleeve of Merlin’s jacket, which did nothing for his argument but ground Arthur further into the ‘no thanks’ column. “It’ll be fun.”
Arthur doubted. He prefered his liaisons a little more discreet and with a lot less bass. Arthur hadn’t even been to The Rising Sun since his first year of university, but he could remember the sticky floors, and the sour-sweet tang of alcohol, and the way the music thrummed through his body, threatening to shake him out of it. He even remembered his first pull there, some bloke who’d lasted two seconds in bed and passed out without returning the favour.
“How about the Vic?” Arthur said to immediate complaint.
“Mate, I’m not even dressed for that,” Gwaine said while Merlin argued, “We just left work, Arthur. I refuse to return to a business-like environment until Monday.”
Arthur threw up his hands and went, “All right! Fine!”