Summary: Merlin is Arthur's new secretary and is oddly appealing. Also, just to complicate things, eccentric Uther has introduced a penpal scheme within the office to promote team unity, and despite initially being at blows, Arthur and his anonymous penpal are getting on extremely well. Somehow Arthur has to balance his physical attraction to Merlin, and his emotional attraction to his penpal... While baking some exceptional puddings, because lemon drizzle cake is nice.
Pairings: Arthur/Merlin, background Gwen/Lance
Word Count: Just over 31k
Disclaimer: None of the characters are mine, I am making no money on this.
Also on my LJ with full notes here: Masterpost
Enjoy.
It started with a seemingly innocent email, causing Arthur Charles Pendragon to storm into his father's office far too early for anyones liking one Monday morning.
"Have you actually gone mental? I don't mean to be rude, but seriously, have you finally succumbed to the mid-life crisis we all knew was inevitable?"
Uther Pendragon smiled benignly and gestured vaguely towards the seat the other side of his desk with a coffee sat in front of it, as if he'd expected his son to come storming into the room with a scowl on his face at that precise moment. Which, Arthur reflected, he probably had - eccentric, all-knowing man that he was. Arthur sat in the chair that felt more like it was made for a living room as opposed to an office and took a sip of the coffee - which was, of course, the perfect temperature. He took a deep breath and tried to remind himself that the man in front of him was a ruthless, omnipotent, possibly evil business tycoon, not the pleasantly baffled, benevolent and positively twinkly old man he currently appeared to be.
Sometimes Arthur wondered if his father did everything he could to disorientate the people that came into his office to the extent that he could defeat them on whatever they'd come in to argue about, give them a cup of tea and a biscuit, and have them leave of their own volition without them realising that the argument in question had even been brought up, let alone lost. Definitely evil.
"Father," he began, "what on God's green earth is this all about?" With this he thrust a printout of an email across the desk, and rolled his eyes as Uther pretended to read it,
From: .uk
To: All Staff
Subject: Unity!
I'm sure it has escaped no one's attention that this company is riddled with gossip, rumour and backstabbing, and while we encourage healthy competition, losing one's job over it is not healthy: this has gone far enough.
As such, I am introducing a new initiative designed to promote bonding and partnership within the workplace. By the end of today, I expect you all to have followed the link at the bottom of this email and registered under a nickname of your choice. By tomorrow morning, you will have been paired up at random, and are required to be in contact with your in-office 'penpal' at least once a day unless under mitigating circumstances which I myself must approve - no one is exempt. You must also remain anonymous to the person with whom you are in contact.
Talk about your interests, hobbies, lives, or simply work. Become friends and learn to trust one another.
There is to be no abuse of this scheme or of each other via this scheme; I will know, and it will not be tolerated.
If you have any questions, please feel free to contact my office.
Enjoy,
U. Pendragon
Uther sighed and closed his eyes before speaking.
"You can't have ignored what's going on. Yes, as a company we're doing well financially, but that shouldn't be at the cost of people's wellbeing. The bitching, the lying... I don't know what's gone wrong with my company, it's like none of them have realised they're not in high school anymore for goodness sake. And when office politics reach front page news, something must be done. Your own secretary quit last week - how's that new boy doing, by the way?"
"Oh, er, fine I guess, learning the ropes"
"You guess? In my day we'd take the new kid out for lunch, get to know them, help them settle in. I'm sure you can't even tell me his name."
Arthur paused, annoyed and wishing not for the first time that his ability to remember numbers and figures after the most brief of glances translated to people's names.
"That's entirely besides the point. I've been busy since he started, you know perfectly well the deadlines we've got coming up if we want to make this merger. I just don't have time for all this touchy feely penpal bullshit!"
"Make time." And with those two words, Uther spoke with a finality that left Arthur in the knowledge that the conversation was, in no uncertain terms, over.
Within half an hour of the conversation, Arthur found himself chain-drinking tea and on the phone to his best friend, Lance, who worked on the floor below. Having resigned themselves to the idea - only due to the knowledge that there was no way out of it - they were now debating the next most important thing: choice of nickname.
"I don't know why you're getting so worked up about it" Arthur grumbled around a chocolate biscuit. "It's just a stupid nickname for a stupid thing that'll probably only last a week."
"Come on mate, get into the spirit of it! Gotta make the right impression, after all, I could get partnered with Gwen. Or you could get partnered with that guy you had your eye on, what was his name, Eric? Edward?"
"Edwin. Ugh, no thank you. Did you see his teeth? Bad oral hygiene is always a turn off. You do know you could always just speak to Gwen, has she even noticed you exist yet?"
"Stop deflecting, you wanker. Now, I'm thinking of using 'Chevalier du lac' for mine..."
"Why?"
"Oh you know, as a nod to medieval tales of adventure and heroism. And it's in French, which will make me sound more interesting."
"Jeez Lance, could you really get any more pretentious?" He spluttered, before instantly regretting it as he tried to wipe soggy biscuit off the ridiculously important spreadsheets he had laid out in front of him ready for that afternoon's meeting. He made a brief mental note never to eat around important bits of paper, then recalled the amount of times he'd decided that in the past, and the amount of times he'd ignored it completely. The latter number greatly outweighed the former.
"I could actually, you don't want to hear some of my other ideas. That was the subtle, toned down one."
"Seriously now, I don't think you should be allowed to be in contact with normal human beings. I might just hang up."
"You were the one who rang me, I can't help it if you can't get through the day without hearing my beautiful voice. And I can't let you go til you've got a wonderful and ingenious nickname. So I guess you'd better leave it to me!"
"Well how about I pinch your idea, if you're such a genius, and go with Mort. Then if anyone asks I can just tell them I'm an avid Terry Pratchett fan."
"But what if they read Pratchett, and start quizzing you on the books?"
"Really? That's your only problem with this plan?"
Arthur snorted, then quickly wrapped up the conversation, having noticed the time. Not, however, before arranging where and when to meet for lunch - the canteen. Again. So that Gwen could be ogled. Again. Gwen was the sweet brunette who worked in the canteen and regularly brought hot drinks and snacks up to the upper offices of the building, and over the course of the last month or so Lance had fallen deeper and deeper in love with her - having, of course, never exchanged so much as the slightest word with her. Arthur often wondered whether or not he really wanted to spend his lunch break listening for the thousandth time to Gwen's one-man fanclub waxing lyrical on her many perfect features, but then he remembered how funny it was to rip the shit into Lance and his unrequited passions, despite the fact that - now Edwin was most definitely off the cards - Arthur had no one to ogle whilst doing so.
From: Admin .
To: Mort .
Subject: Your Correspondent
Dear Mort,
Thank you for registering promptly to the scheme and choosing a suitable nickname.
You have been partnered with: Dewin.
Please be in touch with them by the end of the day.
Many thanks,
Admin.
From: Mort .
To: Dewin .
Subject: Hi
Hey Dewin, I'm Mort. Well, that's my nickname for this, anyway.
So, seeing as we don't have a choice about doing this stupid thing I suppose I'd better tell you that I'm male, I work here (obviously...), I'm between the ages of 25 and 35 (doesn't narrow it down so much in this office), and I really don't enjoy participating in enforced team-bonding projects just because the boss has gone a bit loopy in his old age. I don't even know what he was thinking of.
Yours,
Mort.
From: Dewin .
To: Mort .
Subject: Do you enjoy being a Prat?
Hi Mort, I'm Dewin.
I'm also male and within that age range, but I personally reckon that when the boss came up with this, he was thinking of the similar projects that have been used to great effect in highly powered, successful offices across the globe. He may also have been thinking of the psychological effects of positive anonymity - namely that if one befriends someone who is anonymous, one will automatically be friendlier and kinder to the wider group (in this case the office) in case they encounter their new friend without knowing. So if anything, I'd say he's getting smarter, not loopier.
Dewin
From: Mort .
To: Dewin .
Subject: Alright, suck-up
Dewin-
I see I spoke ill of the boss to the wrong person, big fan, are we?
Mort
From: Dewin .
To: Mort .
Subject: Never quite escaped high school, did you...
Mort-
Not a big fan of Uther, just a big fan of knowing your facts before you slag something off. Does tend to help arguments stand up to questioning, if you ask me. Just a quick pointer for the future, there.
Dewin
From: Mort .
To: Dewin .
Subject: Get fucked
*This message has been censored due to an inappropriate subject line*
From: Dewin .
To: Mort .
Subject: Mature.
Really, I'm so impressed.
From: Mort .
To: Dewin .
Subject: Ok, I'm sorry.
You just pushed my buttons, alright?
I'm under a lot of stress with work at the moment, I've got a couple of big deadlines coming up, and I just don't have the time to be fooling around with this.
I suggest we just stick to the required one email a day so we don't bother each other and can get on with our work.
From: Dewin .
To: Mort .
Subject: Fine by me
But can I just say, if you're letting work get in the way of your personal life to the extent where you don't have the time to merely email someone, perhaps it's time to re-assess your priorities.
"Argh, he just seems like a twat! Where does he get off, speaking to me like that?"
"Arthur, calm the hell down. It's only the first day, you can't have emailed him more than a few times, how have you managed to take such a dislike to him already?"
Arthur proceeded to tell Lance via speakerphone precisely what had been said in each email as he kneaded bread dough at the breakfast bar of his kitchen. When questioned about his baking habits, he was very vocal even to his close friends about how plebeian it was to buy sliced bread when it was easier, tastier and more satisfactory to make one's own, but in fact he loved the way it felt in his hands, the simple satisfaction of making something from scratch, and the warm homely smell that filled his flat.
"To be honest, it kinda sounds like he hit the nail on the head there."
"What do you mean?"
"When was the last time I saw you outside of work?"
"Oh I don't know, we went to that new restaurant just the other day."
"That was last month."
"What's your point?"
"My point is that I'm your best friend - if you can't find the time to see me outside of work then you're spending too much time at work. I would bet money that you're currently making... Let's see, it's Tuesday, so making either bread or fruit scones, crunching numbers from today's paperwork in your head, and talking to me on speakerphone. You need to chill the fuck out, man! Take some time to hang out and not be doing five things at once!"
Arthur paused in his mental calculations and kneading to wonder if his friend had a point. Then he remembered that he hadn't carried the 2 and that's where the extra figures were coming from, and carried on.
"Fine, I'll come out for drinks on Friday, would that make you happy?"
"Only if you're buying the rounds!" Lance laughed. "And stop being so pissy that someone who wasn't me or Morgana called you on your bullshit. Give the guy a chance, it might be good for you."
"Fine, whatever. Oh and Lance, remind me to invite that new secretary guy out with us for drinks, Father was taking the piss because I'd temporarily forgotten his name. What is his name, by the way?"
"How could you forget? His name's Merlin."
From: Mort .
To: Dewin .
Subject: Start over?
Ok, so I may have been unnecessarily rude yesterday. My friend thinks I got cross because you disagreed with me, I maintain it was because you were rude about it.
Regardless, you may have had a point, so can I suggest that we ignore yesterday and start over?
I'm Mort. I enjoy baking, I focus too much on work, and I have to eat boxes of Celebrations in the right order.
From: Dewin .
To: Mort .
Subject: Well since you admitted you were a clotpole about it...
Fine.
I'm Dewin. My friends tell me I have an unhealthy obsession with Lord of the Rings, I drink too much tea, and Fry's Peppermint Creams are the best chocolate bars in the universe.
There's a right order to eat Celebrations?
From: Mort .
To: Dewin .
Subject: Clotpole?
Of course there's a right order to eat Celebrations. The malteasers ones are the best, followed by: Caramel, Twix, Galaxy, Mars, Milky Way. So you eat them in the opposite order, saving the best til last. And obviously no one eats Snickers or Bounty, because they're disgusting.
Is there such thing as too much tea?
I enjoy Buffy the Vampire Slayer more than I probably should (I entirely blame David Boreanaz and James Marsters), I don't do as much sport as I'd like, and I like red wine.
From: Dewin .
To: Mort .
Subject: It's a valid word. Hush.
It's possible you're slightly OCD about chocolates. And the Bounty ones are the best.
Other people seem to think you can have too much tea, but I disagree!
When it comes to Buffy, I think you're underestimating the fantastic-ness of Seth Green. What sports do you do?
My favourite teas are Assam, Kenyan and Russian Caravan, I only dunk biscuits if they're dark chocolate digestives, and I finish work in 10 minutes! So good night, speak to you tomorrow.
A loud alarm woke Merlin at the ungodly hour of 7am on Thursday morning, and he thrust his arm towards his bedside table in hopes of hitting the snooze button on his clock, before recalling that the snooze button is bad for his ability to get to work on time and as such he had moved his alarm clock to the opposite side of the room the previous night.
Grumbling about early mornings, how he's too genius for his own good, and why can't he be back at university where no one cared whether he actually turned up or not, he dragged himself across the room to turn his alarm clock off, changed the playlist on his ipod from his nighttime audiobook to 'Morning shower WAKE UP music', turned the volume up high and forced himself into the shower.
He sang loudly and out of tune to Flogging Molly as the powerful shower slowly attacked his body into wakefulness, suppressing the urge to do a little dance as the song got more upbeat. Feeling clean and a bit more refreshed, he left the shower, towelled himself dry quickly to avoid the cold of the bathroom, and walked, stark naked, into the kitchen to put the kettle on, knowing the quicker he had a cup of tea in his hand the better. As it boiled he went back into his room and threw on the nearest smart clothes, vowing (as he did most mornings) that he would actually make the effort tomorrow.
After his cup of tea (strong, not too milky, one and a half sugars) and a couple of slices of toast (liberally doused with butter and honey), he made sure he had everything he needed in the messenger bag slung carelessly over his shoulder, triple checked that his phone was in his pocket where it belonged, had a five minute 'where-are-my-keys-dammit-I'm-sure-I-put-them-down-here-somewhere' panic, and left the flat. His flat was one half of a cheap but nice house in the outskirts of the city which was a 45 minute walk, 30 minute cycle or 3 minute train ride away from the office. Since he started the previous week, he'd intended to enjoy the brisk morning walk to the office in the early autumn sunshine, but had invariably opted for the extra half hour in bed.
He took the shortcut across the field by the house - trying not to get his smart shoes too muddy - scrambled over the fence into the small, one platform station, and hopped on the train just a second before the doors closed, sighing with relief.
When he reached his desk, Merlin settled in his comfortable (and, no doubt, expensive) desk chair, threw his bag down and glanced around at people's office doors and desks, seeing that he was again one of the first to arrive - second only to Arthur. Merlin's immediate boss, Arthur Pendragon was almost always the first to arrive on floor 7 and the last to leave - prompting Merlin to vaguely wonder on more than one occasion if the man actually slept there, contemplating the possibility of a campbed secreted somehow in Arthur's office.
Despite being his boss, Arthur hadn't spoken more than a few words to Merlin, sending his instructions via email, but the others in the office assured him that it was nothing against him personally, it was just how Arthur was - especially when he had as much work on his plate as he currently did. Merlin, however, had a knack of being taken under people's wings - he liked to think it was because he was polite and nice, but it was more likely his youthful features and large, innocent looking blue eyes - so he had settled in quite easily.
Having fired off a quick email to inform Arthur that he'd arrived, Merlin set about dealing with anything that had come in overnight. This involved laughing probably slightly too loudly at a strip of an online comic that Gwaine had emailed him the link to at 3.41am - adding credence to Merlin's theory that Gwaine shouldn't be allowed near the internet after midnight. Or, for that matter, access to Merlin's work email address. As he started to type a reply about how it was all very well that some people were freelance and could choose their own hours but some of us have a job to do thank you very much, a new email popped up from Arthur requesting a coffee. Merlin sighed, but rose to put the kettle on anyway. Arthur was usually a tea person, but needed at least one strong, sweet black coffee in the morning before he could function properly, especially if his day was due to be full of meetings as this one was.
When the coffee was made, Merlin knocked lightly on Arthur's door, taking the answering grunt as an invitation to enter. He smiled as he walked into the room, setting the large mug down carefully on Arthur's desk and turning to leave before a voice stopped him in his tracks.
"Um, ahem. Thank you, Merlin." Merlin turned back to face him, trying to suppress the grin at just how awkward Arthur sounded.
"No problem. Was there anything else you needed?"
"Not particularly, no. It was only... Are you by any chance free tomorrow night? There's a few of us going out for a few drinks after work and we wondered if you'd like to come along? Get to know the new kid, and all that."
"Um, yeah, that would be nice, thank you." Merlin smiled, was pleased to get a small smile in return, and left the room as it became clear that that was all Arthur had to say on the subject. Well, drinks with the boss, there was no way that could go wrong.
From: Mort .
To: Dewin .
Subject: Good Morning
In response to your message of last night, Seth Green's fantastic-ness (another new word? Might have to get you a dictionary) goes without saying. Oz/Willow were clearly the best couple of the entire show.
Sports-wise, I do fencing quite regularly, and used to play a lot of rugby at uni. Occasionally still do, but not enough.
My favourite tea is Tetleys...
From: Dewin .
To: Mort .
Subject: Re: Good Morning
I don't need a dictionary, sometimes words don't quite say what I want them to say, making up something new is the easiest way round it :)
Rugby? Ah, you're one of those...
If you think your favourite tea is Tetleys, then you haven't tried proper tea. I can see some education will be in order...
From: Mort .
To: Dewin .
Subject: Re: Re: Good Morning
What do you mean, one of those? Nothing wrong with enjoying a bit of rugby!
And what do you suggest in regards tea?
From: Dewin .
To: Mort .
Subject: TEA - lesson 1
Oh come on, I went to uni in Wales, I know what rugby lads are like!
Don't get me wrong, one of my best mates is a rugby lad, and some of them can be really lovely, but a lot of them are kind of thugs, right? I mean, I always got the impression that a lot of them never really grew up from being the 'cool kid' in high school - they always seemed to feel the need to prove themselves, fighting more, drinking more and fucking more than the next...
Never appealed to me to be honest!
First lesson of tea is that Tetley's is not the best tea. In order to begin your education, I'm going to set you a challenge for the weekend. Pick up some Assam, Earl Grey, and Green teas (preferably Whittards, but I'll settle for Twinings), and try them. You think you can handle that?
From: Mort .
To: Dewin .
Subject: Lesson 1? How many will there be?
Going to have to disagree with you about rugby. While I'll admit that it can on occasion attract some less than savoury characters, that's not who most rugby players are. There's an old quote that sums it up perfectly, saying that football is a gentleman's game played by thugs, and rugby is a thug's game played by gentlemen. My coach used to say rugby is about the art of controlled aggression - you let everything out on the pitch, then as soon as the game's over you drop all the aggression, the arguments, the feuds, and the losers buy the drinks. Some of the nicest, gentlest men I've ever met have been rugby players - a good mate of mine is built like a brick shithouse, he could probably push back the opposite team in a scrum by himself, but off the pitch he wouldn't say boo to a goose.
But I think that's enough of my rugby rant! I can handle the tea challenge, any reason why those three in particular? And I'll have to set one in return! Your challenge, should you choose to accept it, is to watch at least one rugby game. World Cup was less than a year ago, so you should be able to find one online pretty easy - go for All Blacks or Wales, but not the final, it wasn't as good as it should have been...
From: Dewin .
To: Mort .
Subject: Tea education never ends!
Jeeez haha, I now know if I ever want to get you talking I just have to mention rugby! I maintain that the majority of rugby players at my uni were arseholes...
I accept your challenge. I've picked those three teas because I reckon they give a good introduction to the three main types of tea - black tea (Assam), flavoured tea (Earl Grey, flavoured with bergamot), and green tea. Once you've got used to those we might move onto fruit teas and flower teas! Bit sad the extent to which I can talk about tea, huh?
Well it's quarter past five, and my friend's texting me because I said I'd meet her outside at five but got caught up, so better be off! Speak tomorrow.
From: Mort .
To: Dewin .
Subject: Sorry
Good Morning
Really sorry but today is crazy busy so have no time to email. Speak Monday.
From: Dewin .
To: Mort .
Subject: Re: Sorry
No problem, I understand.
My friend emailed me this, if you get a chance to check your email, it might cheer you up!
/1024/
From: Mort .
To: Dewin .
Subject: Re: Re: Sorry
Managed to peek during my five minute lunch... Made me smile.
Thank you, you have no idea how much I needed that!
Have a good weekend, enjoy the rugby ;)
Arthur sighed with relief, slowly tilting his head from side to side as he tried to stretch out the kink in his neck. It had been a long, tiring day of meetings and paperwork, and to be honest the only things that had got him through had been copious cups of tea from Merlin (with an extra sugar to keep him going), the comic at lunchtime from Dewin, and the prospect of a large, stiff drink after work with Lance. And now, finally, an hour after everyone else at the office had already left, he only had one email left to send and then he could leave. He rubbed his eyes and forced them to focus on the screen, typing the words slowly, his brain already in the pub. He pressed send and shut down his computer, cursing at it under his breath for being the harbinger of all his work, then checked his list of things of things he needed to get done over the weekend - for the first time in over a month, the figure was less than five, meaning he'd actually have time to get out his baking book and try something new. Arthur smiled softly to himself, vaguely wondering what he might try cooking as he gathered his briefcase and jacket, and left the office.
Arthur had been planning on heading home and get changed before going to the pub, but decided against it as that would just prolong the amount of time without a drink in his hand, and surely plenty of other people would have gone straight from the office, so he wouldn't feel too out of place in his smart suit and tie. He went so far as to undo his top button and loosen his red tie slightly as he pushed open the door to The Dragon's Egg, gravitating straight to the bar and ordering a scotch and a pint. He spotted Lance stood with a few of their other friends and made his way over, smiling innocently at the pointed glance Lance gave his two drinks.
"What? It's been a long day!"
He greeted his friends happily, and was glad that none of them chose to mention how long it had been since he'd been to the pub with them after work, they just settled into the routine of chatting and taking the piss out of each other which was by now as natural as breathing. The four, Arthur, Lance, Leon and Percy, had known each other since uni, and had all managed to end up working for the same company. They'd all been adamant that they hadn't wanted to get their jobs because they were mates with the boss's son, but luckily they were good enough at their respective jobs that it wasn't an issue.
Arthur had tuned slightly out of the conversation as he crunched a couple of numbers from earlier in the day in his head - a bad habit his friends were all too used to - but started paying attention again as he caught Leon making fun of Lance for choosing their current position in the bar because of its 'prime ogling potential', something Arthur kicked himself for not noticing before - it was his job to take the piss out of Lance for ogling Gwen! Arthur turned to look in the same direction that Leon was less-than-subtlely pointing to see the object of Lance's affection, and felt his breath catch in his throat as he saw his own secretary, looking much more comfortable out of work and his work clothes, instead sporting well-worn jeans that were tight enough to be nearing indecency, and a blue form fitting tshirt, with some kind of red scarf wrapped clumsily around his slender neck.
It must be the scotch, he thought. Stick to pints from now on.
Merlin had not at all planned on getting drunk - just 'a few quiet drinks after work'. Unfortunately, he had underestimated the iron liver of Gwen - one of the first people at the office who he'd spoken to, and a warm woman with a quick wit who was fast becoming a firm friend. It seemed every time he finished a drink there was a fresh one in front of him, punctuated by her mischievous grin and followed by a challenge - whether it be a drinking game, or pool (which Merlin was so bad at, he was convinced it couldn't be sporting to challenge him in the first place, but somehow he couldn't say no). And as such, he had to admit, he was rather tipsy.
He and Gwen were stood at the pool table, swigging their drinks and contemplating another game (or, as Merlin referred to it, a massacre) when Arthur walked in. Merlin could have sworn he felt the man's presence in the pub before he saw him - though he'd question this in the cold sobriety of the next day - and couldn't stop himself from watching as his boss walked over to his friends (including the attractive dark-haired man who couldn't stop looking at Gwen and was nowhere near as subtle about it as he seemed to think) and greeted them with a laugh and a clap on the back. It was the first time Merlin had seen the man with anything but fierce and serious concentration or worry on his face, and he decided instantly that Arthur should laugh a lot more often - it suited his face, and somehow made Merlin stop in his tracks.
A couple of minutes later, Merlin found he was still watching Arthur as the blonde man turned to look in their direction, and there was an odd look almost of surprise on his face. Merlin wasn't quite sure what to do, and settled for raising his drink in greeting, a shy smile on his face. There followed a moment where Arthur's expression didn't change at all, and Merlin started feeling like an idiot with a probable over-abundance of alcohol in his veins and was about to turn away, when Arthur's face broke into a small smile, nodding in his direction before turning back to his friends. Merlin let out a breath he hadn't realised he'd been holding, and turned to Gwen, offering to go to the bar for the next round. A double would be very welcome right now.
The first part of Arthur's weekend was spent wishing death upon his friends and himself - he hadn't had quite so much to drink in a while, and god did it show. After depositing himself sullenly into his large shower for quite a long time he found himself feeling more human and ready to face the day. After throwing some clothes on he wandered into the kitchen, wincing only slightly as he opened the curtains above the sink. Perhaps today was not the day to attempt to tackle a croquembouche, probably just a tarte au citron instead, as Morgana was bound to visit that evening, and she had a large soft spot for lemon puddings - he still remembered the look of pure ecstasy on her face the time he'd served freshly baked hot lemon souffle pudding... That dessert was now reserved only for emergency bribery purposes.
As he put the kettle on, he remembered his challenge from Dewin, allowing himself a small smile as he recalled the man's indignance at what constituted good tea. He quickly booted up his laptop as his tea brewed (good old Tetley's, thank you very much) and brought up Google to find the nearest Whittards, a shop he had to admit he'd never been into before. To his surprise there was one only a ten minute walk from his apartment, so he decided to get dressed properly, head out and face his challenge like a man. (Before, of course, putting on his flowery pinny - a joke gift from Percy that he hadn't quite got round to chucking away yet - and baking a nice lemony tart.)
To be completely honest, Whittards scared him. It wasn't a big shop, but the shelves were lined with more varieties of tea than he'd thought existed in the world, let alone in an average sized shop not even in the city centre, and that wasn't even going into all the different (vaguely baffling, Arthur thought) types of coffee, hot chocolate and crockery. There had only been one other person browsing the shop, so the shop assistant's gaze was predominantly - and unsettlingly - directed at Arthur. This, in addition to his normal macho pride, meant that Arthur was loathe to ask for help and as such spent an inordinately long time gazing at the shelves of tea, trying to get the right ones. In the end he managed it, leaving the shop with three boxes of Assam, Earl Grey and Green tea each containing twenty five teabags (more than enough for an experiment, surely?), and also a nice new bone china cup and saucer, a large teapot with a pattern of friendly looking blue squares, a tea strainer and a loose leaf tea holder, because if he was going to do this he was going to do it right, dammit. And the loose leaf tea holder was in the shape of a little house. Which was kind of cool.
The Assam he tried when he got back from the shop. He liked it, it was pretty much like his normal tea, just... Well, better. It was more refined, the flavours more delicate and well-rounded, and it was full of a warmth that he felt radiate outwards through him as he swallowed. He could quite happily get used to this one. Whittards were right to call it the 'Tea of the Empire'!
The Earl Grey he tried later in the afternoon, as he sat in front of his laptop and got a bit of work done. He had to make two cups of this, as he left the first one to brew a bit longer than he should have, and it ended up unbearably strong and bitter. The second cup he only left to brew for a couple of seconds and it was undoubtedly milder and more pleasant to drink, but wasn't a taste he could grow to like all that much - a bit too much like soap.
The green tea he shared with Morgana as they devoured slices of his perfectly cooked tarte au citron - the pastry short and crisp and the filling smooth and deliciously lemony. The tea made him feel unexpectedly relaxed and calm (causing Morgana to very nearly look slightly surprised, but not quite), and he found he quite liked it.