Disclaimer- I own nothing but the plot.
So, I have never written a Merlin fanfiction and this just came to me and I had to write it down. I hope any and all who read this like it and think it's not too bad. Comments and criticism (preferably constructive) is always welcome and appreciated. Another thing to keep in mind, this particular story will contain slash because I find it easy to ship Merlin with, well everyone. He's kinda like Jack Harkness in that sense. Anyway, back to my story. Here it is, hope ya like.
He loved it. The push and pull of the engine. The worn leather under his hands as he gripped the steering wheel with expert ease. The groan that turned into a purr as he switched gears without a second thought. The sharp shift of sliding to the side at sharp turns, the jostling against the tight seat belt. The smell of brunt rubber, the sound of engines humming with power, the adrenaline coursing through his veins as he moved faster and faster. This was racing. This was addicting. This is what he lived for. No one knew, not even his mother. He never showed his face during or after a race. He never made a slip up. He lied through his teeth, day after day, but it was better this way. This way, no one would worry that he was too fragile for such a dangerous thing as racing. Nor would they worry that he too, would face an untimely death in this sport like his father; the racing champion Balinor Ambrosias who had died in a fatal crash out on the track. It was exactly how he liked it. Yes, this part of his life was hidden in shadows, but he couldn't, wouldn't, give up this part of his life because he loved it. It was in his blood. He got to that high was enough to make it all okay. The rush that pushed him over the edge, that made his eyes light up in intense enjoyment, the feeling of being on top of the world for just an hour or two with all that power at his fingertips was enough to keep him steady when he was enough back down to earth and forced to lie some more and lock away his love.
This was the true him, the true Merlin. The Merlin he was at heart, the Merlin he knows his father would be proud of. Merlin Ambrosias, the young man who has stepped so fully in his father's shoes. This was the Merlin he locked away so that his mother wouldn't worry, so that his friends wouldn't spend their lives biting their fingers. To avoid the worried looks and nervous feelings, Merlin locked it all away to make their lives easier.
With a heavy sigh, Merlin pulled the keys out of the ignition, leaning his helmeted head back against the seat.
"Good job, today, mate." Gwanie. He knew. He was the only one who knew. He was the only who privy to such information because he had meet Merlin to experience race, not Merlin the poor boy would could not handle some things and had lost his father to a terrible accident. He was Merlin's Crew Chief and Merlin's only friend who knew. Merlin had meet Gwaine on the job and he eventually turned into one of Merlin's friends.
"Thanks." Merlin replied with yet another heavy sigh. He pulled himself out of the dark blue car, the color matching his eyes. He pulled his helmet off, causing his raven black hair to stand up. Merlin was a wiry young man, all bones and no meat. At least that's how he looked with the black hair, the dark blue knowing eyes, the high, sharp-enough-to-cut cheekbones, and the impossibly large ears. Merlin was deceptively strong though and could hold himself pretty well, he did train to put some meet on his bones in order to avoid easier injuries while racing.
"Why don't you just tell them?" Gwaine asked, knowing what was bothering the young man. While Merlin was thin and it looked like a strong wind could blow him over, Gwaine was stockier, more muscled, with long dark hair and a smile that could melt anyone. He walked around with a sense of confidence one acquired knowing he made all the panties dropped of both men and women.
"You know why, Gwaine. It's better this way, even if it is torture sometimes. Mom would worry herself to death. Lance and Gwen would be the second set of parents I don't need. Morgana would give the cold stare until you crumbled to her will. Percival and Leon, should I continue?" Merlin asked, running a gloved hand through his hair as he faced Gwanie who gave a small, sad smile at his friend.
"I know, I know. But if they saw you out there on the track," He gave a whistle of appreciation, feeling it was unnecessary to continue with his sentence. Merlin shook his head.
"Doesn't matter. All they'll see is my father crashing and dying over and over again. I can't handle that." Gwanie just nodded, throwing an arm around the thin man's shoulders as they walked off the practice track Merlin had. Well, it was Merlin's but it wasn't under his name. No, technically the racer who owned the blue car was Emrys. The racer who had appeared about five years ago, as soon as Merlin had turned eighteen, and quite amazingly took the cup. He won almost all his races, he had all the fans, but no one knew what he looked like. He never showed his face, never talked on radios, never did interviews. He was a mystery. A mystery winner who had everyone cheering him on.
It wasn't the fans that spurred Merlin on, or the money, or the winning. It was the racing. The feeling of sitting behind a wheel and holding all that power that made Merlin want to race. Not to mention that it was the legacy his father had left him and Merlin was quite proud of it.
"Come on, Gwaine. I need a good night's sleep and I need to visit his grave." Merlin said, as he began to unzip his suit, the one all racers were required to wear, In a hurry to get changed and slip back into his simple facade of a life. Gwaine chuckled as he helped Merlin get ready.
"We have an early flight tomorrow boys. Don't be too reckless tonight and please no drinking; I need you both sober for the race on Saturday. " Kilgaraha, Merlin's manager and racing agent stated. He was an older man but that didn't mean he was one to cross. He may look old but he was smart and put Merlin's safety and well-being before everything else. He also kept Merlin in line and held his identity close to his heart. Kilgaraha had represented Merlin's father as well and it only seemed right to do the same for the son.
"Will do." Merlin said with a small smile as he zipped up his jeans. After years of being rushed to change and hurried out of places to keep his secret intact, Merlin had learned to dress quickly and without modesty and it wasn't like the man who was his godfather hadn't seen the boy in just his underwear before nor was it like that for Gwaine. The old man gave a nod, before placing a hand on the twenty-three year old's shoulder.
"Your father would be proud of you." He said before turning and walking away, phone to his ear as he was planning everything for Merlin for this coming weekend. Merlin smiled wistfully and hoped it was true. He only wished his father was there to see him and say that himself. Merlin fingered the chain he wore around his neck, the one the held his father's racing ring, for a few moments before looking back up at Gwaine.
"Come on. The sooner we get to his grave, the sooner you can go get drunk and I can sleep." Merlin said quietly, giving a dry laugh at the expression of mock hurt crossed Gwaine's face. Gwaine knew that going to Balinor's grave calmed Merlin's nerves and the promise to win or at the very least come back seemed to quell any fears the young man might have had at an upcoming race. It also gave him the feeling that his father was there watching over his son.
"Let's go. I'm in a heavy need of a drink just looking at your forlorn face." Gwaine joked throwing an arm around Merlin's shoulders yet again as he led them out of the building.
Merlin turned up the collar of his jacket in a futile attempt to stop the cold. Gwaine had dropped him off a few moments ago at his request, he decided to walk home, just like he did before every race. Merlin missed his father, more than he could ever express. He wore his father's ring, he worked with is father's agent, he raced in the same races he did, he got a dragon tattoo that wrapped around his wrist and hand in memory of his late father.
Heaving a heavy sigh, Merlin placed a bundle of dragon flowers on his fathers grave. Dragons has always been their thing. It what the bedtime stories Balinor told Merlin about late into the night, it was the name they had given their cars, it was the tattoos they both had. It was what made them, them; father and son. Merlin threaded a hand through his now wet hair, standing still, as rain started to fall. It always seemed to rain whenever Merlin visited to race; he took it as a good sign. We always won when it rained during his visits, like his father's blessing.
"I miss you dad. I miss you being with mom and racing and just everything. I wish that you were still here, that you could tell me yourself that you were proud of me. That you would tell me to continue racing and winning because it's in my blood and it's what I'll always do. I wish you were here to make it okay with mom, and everyone. I just wish you hadn't gone, at the very least not like that. Never like that." It was a speech, one Merlin gave every time he visited his father whether it be before a race or when Merlin was confused and at a loss of what to do, he always came to see his father and he always said the same thing before going on to say whatever it is he wanted to that particular time.
"I race the European Standard in a few days. Your favorite track. I remember you placing me in the front seat with you, going at least ninety miles an hour around those corners. I remember you laughing and smile, and I remember laughing and smiling with you. Then mom got all upset because she was worried but happy when she saw us."He gave a small smile, at the memory. "I hope to make you proud and win. I've decided something else to, dad. After this season, when I win, I'm gonna tell everyone. I'm sick of hiding, I love it. I do. It's not just me trying to make up for the loss of my father, it's what I love, what I've always loved and I can't hide that anymore. I need them to know, to understand. Gwaine is helpful and all, but even he isn't enough. Maybe, maybe after I tell them, everything will be okay. Maybe Mom'll smile some more and everyone will stop tiptoeing around the subject of you and your legacy. And Arthur. Well, you know." Merlin gave a shaky laugh.
He fished out a pack of cigarettes and a lighter. Placing one loosely between his lips, Merlin flicked the lighter, inhaling deeply as he took the first draw, a slight tension leaving his shoulders as he closed his eyes in ecstasy. He ignored the sound of a car coming to a halt outside the cemetery, the closing of a car door, the sound of footsteps in the wet grass and the rain hitting a leather jacket. Instead Merlin just drew in nicotine and smoke, allowing himself a few moments of silence, bliss created by speaking his mind and lighting up a cancer stick.
"Thought you were going to quit." It wasn't a question, a statement really. Arthur. Merlin opened his eyes lazily to see his best friend, Arthur Pendragon, at his side, shoulders hunched against the cold, an accusatory look on his face. Merlin shrugged taking a large drag before tossing it to the ground and stomping it out for good measure.
"You really should quit, Merlin." Merlin didn't say anything, he never did anymore. This was a conversation they had many times, every time Merlin lit up a cigarette and Arthur was able to see. He glanced over at Arthur, who stared down at Balinor's black, shiny headstone a sorrowful gaze easily seen. This was Arthur, the Arthur. The blonde, ice blue eyed man who while shorter and thicker than Merlin had stolen his heart after growing up together and years of friendship. This man, the one who stood beside Merlin at every opportunity, who was arrogant, slightly entitled, cocky, and rude but still kind, caring, and thoughtful, that made Merlin want to spill everything all at once, was the one who always made him stop.
Merlin had known Arthur for as long as he could remember. They had grown up together, sitting on the sidelines of race track after race track, while their father's raced or practiced. While Balinor Amrbosias had been a champion racer, Uther Pendragon had been one as well, and Balinor's childhood friend. Merlin never really knew when he fell for his best friend but he never acted on those feelings, even when Arthur reciprocated them, because he couldn't be with Arthur the way they both wanted when all he did was lie to him, time and time again. He lied every day and that was not something Merlin could have in a relationship, no matter how much he craved it.
"I miss him too." Arthur whispered. "He was like my second dad. I can't believe he's gone." The grief in his voice was enough to pierce deep within Merlin's heart. Balinor's death had hit everyone hard and after almost ten years, it still hurt.
"We all do." Merlin told him, allowing the larger man to pull Merlin in a tight embrace. Merlin wrapped his gangly seeming arms around Arthur while the blonde pressed his head into Merlin's neck. "We all do." he repeated allowing his eyes to close for just a moment before pulling away from the embrace even though he wanted nothing better than to stay there forever.
"You shouldn't be out here, you have a race next week and you get sicker easier than I do." Merlin said, holding his friend at arms length. Another barrier for the two of them. While Merlin followed in his father's footsteps, proudly but in the shadows, Arthur did the same but out in the full view of everyone. Merlin made sure to never race in the same ones as Arthur, preferring European tracks and races to the American ones Arthur competed in so that their paths never crossed. At times it hurt, Merlin loved American tracks and while he paid to use them privately he never actually raced on them; bad memories were with some and too many chances to slip up on. Plus, this way he was able to cheer on Arthur without feeling bitter at losing. Arthur was probably the best racer on the western hemisphere while Merlin was considered to be the best on the eastern hemisphere.
Arthur nodded, allowing Merlin to lead him back to his car, a sleek black doge challenger that held enough horsepower and torque to satisfy a racer's thirst for speed. "You'll be there, right?" Arthur asked, hopeful. Merlin gave a cheeky grin.
"No, I'm going to miss it just because you're in it. Of course I'm gonna be there, clotpole." Arthur chuckled opening the car door, motioning for Merlin to do the same on the other side. "No thanks, I'm gonna walk home tonight." Arthur frowned.
"But it's raining." Merlin shrugged.
"It doesn't bother me much. Plus I've got a flight tomorrow morning, Kilgharrah is sending me and Gwaine across the pond to do some scoping on European drivers."
"Fine, but if you get sick, idiot, you can only blame yourself." Merlin gave a small smile before turning on his heel, stuffing his hands in his jacket, and heading down the street. Another reason Merlin wanted to walk home was that he always did, another part of his pre-race ritual.
Arthur watched from within the warmth of his car as Merlin walked away from him, eyes downcast, head low, as though deep in thought. Arthur pinned after Merlin like no other, it was an obvious fact that everyone knew but it still stung Arthur when Merlin did things like refuse to go out with him, refuse to be with him, and simpler things like let Arthur drive him home in the rain. He never really understood why Merlin always declined, it was like he was hiding something. Merlin had acquired a shifty look a few years ago and it had stayed with him as years passed and the two of them changed from teenagers to men. One day Arthur hoped to get Merlin to agree to go out with him, to be with him, and to accept the car ride home in the rain. Maybe one day.