"The Real Folk Blues"

A "day off" was a relatively new concept to Uther Pendragon, whose past lives had always afforded him the luxury of doing whatever he pleased, pretty much whenever he wanted to. The concept of an unpaid day off, had been even harder to get used to.

After all, kings, bishops, CEO's, and oil tycoons never had to worry about things like rent or living paycheck-to-paycheck. Like everything else in this very strange life, Uther had forced himself to get used to it.

Still, there were days when all the dishes were done, his apartment was clean - couldn't afford a housekeeper on a cop's salary, that much was certain - and he'd watched all of the crappy daytime movies on the television that he could handle, that Uther found himself sitting on his hands.

Uther hated those days.

It allowed his thoughts to wander down paths that were as terrifying as they were wonderful. It allowed the memories of his past to surface at random times, often bloody memories drenched in guilt that clung thickly to his soul. That was a new one too: guilt, or at least the acknowledgment of it.

Uther paced in his simple, sophisticated apartment - he'd never quite been able to give up at least attempting an illusion of elegance - and caught his reflection in the hallway mirror. He paused and rubbed a hand across his lower jaw, the rasp of his palm across his stubble indicating he was due for a shave. He studied his reflection for a moment, his eyes seeing an old man who was on the wrong side of forty, with a head of grey hair and tired blue eyes.

He noticed a thumb-swipe of darkness beneath his eyes and turned away, suddenly restless; suddenly angry. He hadn't been sleeping well. Ever since the last time he'd gone to see Merlin, since the last time he hadn't been able to draw the memories from the kid, he'd been fairly plagued by thoughts of him. His dreams were haunted by the memory of Merlin's pale, soft skin and filthy little mouth, all set to the backdrop of the erratic slap of his ass on Uther's lap while he moaned, "Oh fuck me harder Daddy!" and "Punish me, Daddy, punish me with your fat cock."

When he woke up after having one of those dreams, Uther had erections that were so hard and so throbbing, that they would've made his adolescent self proud. It always ended the same way, with Uther jerking himself under the sheets, pretending he was fucking up into Merlin and panting, "Fuck kid, you ride your Daddy so good," into one of those ridiculous looking ears.

It was mornings like those that Uther was grateful he was single, because any way he looked at it, it was embarrassing for a man in his forties to be masturbating furiously every morning like a teenager with no impulse control. Plus, while Uther had learned how to do his own laundry from lifetimes of raising Arthur alone (though even then there had been servants and nannies to lend a helping hand), he suspected that the couple in 37A were growing concerned, considering the sudden frequency he'd been visiting the laundry room in the mornings.

Uther didn't need the scrutiny or the headache of having to explain himself, should it ever come down to it.

Anyway, he had an excuse to be in the laundry room this time: today was Thursday, which meant today was Laundry Day. He'd put it off as long as he could. He hated Laundry Day – yet another thing he'd never gotten used to doing on his own.

He slammed the lid shut on one of the washers farthest from the door (he liked that one, it made it less likely that his clothing would be poached) and turned the dial to the spin cycle. As the machine sputtered to life and began humming loudly, Uther stared at it, his hands in his pocket, suddenly at a loss as to what to do next.

He had at least an hour to kill. He might be able to catch a game on Sports Center, but suddenly, the prospect of spending the afternoon alone in his apartment while he waited for his laundry to be done, was very depressing. He dug around in the pocket of his worn jeans (his favorite pair and also the last pair of clean pants in his closet) and tugged out his wallet. He counted his bills carefully, though he already knew how much cash he had on him. (Being meticulous about his money was a habit that centuries of living couldn't break. He wasn't going to start being frivolous now.)

Uther sighed, the sound seeming to drift up from somewhere long, long ago. It made him feel ancient.

Uther pulled himself a little straighter and pushed open the door to the laundry room with more force than necessary. He stopped at his apartment to grab his keys and pull on the brown leather bomber jacket he tended to favor off-duty, which looked almost as worn as he currently felt. He caught a glimpse of his reflection in the shiny doors of the elevator as he waited for it to come up - though time was encroaching on him, his features were still sharp, if blurred a little around the edges. He could easily pass for a distinguished college professor if he shaved, or a business tycoon just come back from from a weekend in Bora Bora on his private jet.

Or somebody's dad.

'Fuck me Daddy...' a voice whispered huskily, in the back of his mind. Uther shivered and scrubbed a hand over his face in agitation.

He needed to get out.

-VVV-

The weather was brisk but not truly cold, though wind chill made it seem that way. Uther walked with a sense of purpose, though really, he had no idea where he was going. He didn't feel like battling city traffic trying to drive somewhere, and he certainly wasn't about to take the bus (some things truly never changed) and be thrust shoulder to shoulder with the people he'd probably seen down at the station once or twice - in handcuffs.

He walked, carefully dodging elbows and shoulders as people milled around him, his chin up and a determined look in his eye, when at last, as he rounded a corner and found himself in familiar territory. Uther inhaled a breath, wet garbage and other unsanitary smells strong in his nose. He took comfort in the familiarity of it all, comfort in the fact that he'd grown up in this neighborhood; comfort, in the knowledge that he now had the power to do something to help keep his old haunts safe.

Today though, wasn't about that.

There weren't many people lingering along the street. It wasn't a main thoroughfare, like the main street he'd just turned off of, so anybody caught outside was likely to be a resident, or a pedestrian taking a shortcut to the next busy street over. Uther's goal was the rundown movie theater two blocks down. He could see the dilapidated sign even from there, but the sight of it conjured up fond memories from childhood, when he used to sneak into the matinees and watch hokey scary movies that terrified him.

"The Tingler" in particular, had left an impression on him that made his mother furious with him for days, after he refused to go to bed without all of the lights on.

Those were the days, innocent and free, before he remembered who he really was; before he remembered the greatness and power he was supposed to wield. He'd gotten it, eventually, but he had to scrape up all of his power the hard way: with sweat and blood and a single-mindedness that he was infamous for.

It was a power he guarded jealously.

He passed down the street unmolested, though a few of punks loitering around dogged him for a few yards before chickening out and returning to their stoops. Uther hadn't been worried, though he'd left his gun at home. While time would eventually slow him down enough to meet his end, (probably bleeding out on the pavement after a bust gone bad), right now he was in good physical condition. He bore more padding around his middle than he used to, and there was a slight hunch to his shoulders that had crept in when he wasn't looking, but overall, Uther Pendragon could still wrestle a perp to the ground, if need be.

The difference was, he didn't go looking for a fight anymore. He'd rather let one of the rookies chase one down, than wear himself out doing it. He wasn't out for glory, anymore. He just wanted to put criminals behind bars. He just wanted to do his job.

The thought gave Uther pause; when had that changed? Maybe it was a step in the right direction.

Uther stopped on the corner to pick up a coffee, since he knew from experience that the coffee the movie theater sold, tasted like shit. As he stood in line, he absently wondered if Merlin was working tonight. He hadn't asked for his work schedule. That would make it seem like he had something more invested in their relationship than casual fucking. He didn't want to admit that the physical contact was nice, even if it was only sex. He didn't want to admit that he looked forward to seeing Merlin on those nights, and sometimes not just for the sex.

Uther forced himself to abandon the thought, or he'd never be able to push it out of his head. He just needed Merlin to remember his past, see that Uther didn't hate him anymore, and maybe start to fix everything that had gone wrong in all of their previous lifetimes. They could all move on, after that. They could all stop this cycle of living.

Uther was tired of living.

One step at a time.

Today, he was just going to see a movie.

He stepped up to the vendor and ordered a large coffee with extra cream and extra sugar. Somebody laughed behind him, and an amused voice called out from nearby. "I would've expected you to like it black, Officer."

Uther turned and saw young man standing nearby - a boy, really - wearing a pair of stonewashed jeans and grey sweater, layered by a black, fitted jacket that looked fairly expensive. A red messenger bag was slung crosswise over his chest. A simple grey scarf was wrapped around his neck - familiar, very familiar - and as Uther stared at him, the boy pulled the ear buds to his iPod from his ears. His ridiculous ears. Uther blinked, and suddenly realized that it was Merlin.

Uther wanted to check to make sure his mouth wasn't hanging open. Merlin looked good, though he was only slightly ashamed to realize he hadn't recognized him with that much clothing on. He was used to seeing Merlin in a very different light, so to speak. The coffee vendor made an impatient noise and Uther quickly turned, cursing himself quietly for the show of weakness.

No matter what was going on between him and Merlin at the strip club, out here it was different. Out here people were already staring. Out here, he was old enough to be Merlin's father and he knew it. Moreover, he knew that everyone else knew.

Uther shoved some money at the vendor and took his coffee. When he turned, he threw an irritated scowl at Merlin, and strode past him.

-VVV-

"Hey!"

Uther ignored the call, resisting it with the same effort it might take to ignore a siren's song. He was almost to the theater; almost to safety.

"HEY!"

The voice was more insistent. It took much of Uther's training as a cop to keep from turning around and acknowledging Merlin. 'Not today, kid,' Uther thought darkly, 'not out here where people can get the wrong idea.'

It was hard enough keeping it under wraps that he sometimes went to a gay strip club. None of his police buddies needed to see him chatting up an attractive young male, on his day off.

"DADDY."

Uther froze, one foot on the curb the other still in the street. He finally turned to see Merlin dodge his way across traffic to get to him. When the boy was close enough, Uther grabbed his scarf and tugged, hard. Merlin's eyes bulged in surprise as he was pulled off balance and stumbled.

"Don't call me that, kid. This isn't the time or the place, got it?" He shoved Merlin away from him and tried not to think about how soft the scarf had been between his fingers. If he tied Merlin up with it, it wouldn't even bruise those slender wrists. He grit his teeth at the treacherous thought. "What are you doing here anyway, kid? Long way from the joint and judging from your clothing, you can afford better accommodations than what this neighborhood has to offer."

Merlin shifted, a bit uncomfortably, and it reminded Uther of all those lifetimes ago when this awkward boy had showed up in Camelot. He'd never wanted to tie that Merlin to the bed and fuck him until they were both sweaty and exhausted. But as he looked at him, that's all he could think about.

Merlin peered up at him through his eyelashes. His expression was definitely coy and the look shot straight to Uther's cock. "I just want to see a movie, Daddy, just like you." He moved closer, confident, crowding Uther's space. Though he frowned severely, Uther let him, very aware of the curious stares they were drawing. "The theater should be pretty empty, don't you think, Daddy? Nobody would even care if I dropped my pants and masturbated while you watched me."

Uther swallowed, but managed to gain control of himself. His jaw was tight. "Whatever kid," he ground out stiffly, fixing Merlin with a piercing gaze, "do what you want, just don't bother me. I actually want to watch this movie."

"Whatever you say, Daddy."

"Don't call me that," Uther snapped, and approached the ticket booth. The girl behind the glass looked less than enthused to see them. She had lank blonde hair and a labrae piercing that looked infected.

"What'll it be?" she drawled, her voice heavy with boredom and disdain.

"One for Gran Turino at twelve o'clock," Uther replied. A hand rested atop his on the counter and clamped down before Uther could jerk it away.

"Two, actually," said Merlin smoothly, grinning at the girl. He leaned closer, pressing in, until Uther could smell him. "Daddy is taking me to the movies today."

Fuck.

The girl was now paying attention, a leer on her face. Her grin was wide and somewhat lecherous as she looked back and forth between the two. "You go old man!" she exclaimed, as Uther yanked his hand back and reached blindly into his wallet. He pulled out what he thought was the right amount of cash. He pushed it angrily under the shallow dip below the plastic window, and was rewarded with two tickets that the girl tore off from a roll next to her. "It's to your right," she said, wagging her brows at the pair.

She snickered as Merlin waved goodbye to her and followed Uther into the theater.

-VVV-

Once inside Uther tossed his coffee into the nearest trashcan and grabbed Merlin by the wrist. He dragged him along the hallway until he found an alcove, and shoved him into it and hard against the wall. He placed his forearm across Merlin's chest, holding him there, though he suspected the extra force was unnecessary.

"Listen kid, I don't know what your game is, but this isn't funny. I'm a cop, if people knew I associate with a stripper - a male stripper - my life becomes a living hell. It might be cute at the club, but not out here." His voice was hard, no more than a low growl. It was the voice he used when scaring punks into confessing.

Merlin looked genuinely pissed and his blue eyes blazed hotly. It made Uther feel better. "Oh I see, it's okay to fuck me when I'm just another slut at the club, but the minute your reputation is threatened, you won't even see a movie with me." He struggled to push Uther's arm off of him, but when he couldn't, he settled on inserting a long leg between Uther's and rubbing up against his groin.

Uther groaned, but held his ground. "Stop that kid," he grunted, his voice a little rougher than before.

"No," said Merlin, rubbing harder, eliciting another groan from him. "You like me, Daddy, I know you do. And I like you." Uther's arm loosened, but Merlin didn't move. He could feel the heat from the kid radiating off of him like he was a little furnace. The knee against his groin rubbed in lazy circles, coaxing the flesh beneath into wakefulness.

"Kid, I'm old enough to be your father. I'm -" He pushed away, the anger draining from him. He slammed up his shaky walls and shrugged. He needed to regain control of the situation and of himself. He fucked this kid on a daily basis. This just happened to be a coincidence and he could deal with that. "Fine," he grunted, "but if you fuck with me while I'm watching Clint Eastwood, I'm throwing you in a cell for the night – along with a roommate."

"How about I just fuck you instead, Daddy?"

Uther ignored him as he ducked into the darkened theater. Damn, they'd already missed the beginning.

He looked sourly over his shoulder at Merlin, who flashed him a flirty grin back.

-VVV-

On screen, Clint Eastwood was confronting the gang of delinquents, a man alone, old and seeking redemption.

Uther felt something funny in his chest and realized that it was tight. He could barely breathe. It was as if his body had forgotten how to. His hands curled into fists on his thighs.

Clint went down in a blaze of gunfire, a few minutes later. The camera zoomed in on his limp, bloody hand, which didn't hold a gun, but a lighter.

Uther sucked in air raggedly, fighting a feeling of bleakness so profound, it threatened to consume him. This had been a bad movie to come and see. He let out a shaky puff of air, and tried not to think of Clint Eastwood's redemption. He tried not to think of his own. He tried not to think of how many times he'd failed.

Uther felt warmth cover his left hand and looked down to see Merlin's palm lying lightly atop his own. The kid's thumb rubbed slowly across the scarred skin of his knuckles, soothing out the tension. Slowly, Uther felt himself relax enough to let his fists uncurl. When he did, Merlin thread his long fingers through his.

He glanced over and saw that the kid was still watching the movie, not looking at him, just watching and rubbing absent circles onto the back of his hand.

Uther sat back and let the tension unwind from his chest.