I don't own Merlin.
/
The spy rose from his bed, luxuriating in the feel of satin sheets falling off of him, pooling limply on the bed. His new persona, with its high paying job, had allowed him one of the comforts he loved to indulge in. Strolling stark naked to the window, he rested his hands on the sill and looked out, watching the street slowly waking. Below him, on the opposite side walk, was a slender man, jogging briskly down the street in the pale blue light of pre-dawn.
Merlin Emrys.
His lips curved into a smile. He liked the young secretary, and enjoyed bantering with him. He and the other hires had all become friends with him, and he'd made a point of keeping tabs on the man's life. He was, without a doubt, the key to getting into Arthur's circle. He ordered Arthur's life, ensured that the man didn't lose his temper at important people, kept the appointments the man had made, smoothed over ruffled tempers, and was never far from the man. He could see why The Boss had said that if anyone would know who the Dragonlord was, it would be him. The man was indispensable, and probably knew more about the company's life than Uther himself.
The figure rounded the block, and the spy pushed back from the window, grinning. It'd be nice if he could get between the secretary and boss. He was almost certain the two were having an affair, but he couldn't be sure…yet.
Another thing to work on in his now busy life, he thought briskly. But before work or play came food.
Wrapping up in a robe, he headed into the kitchen to make his breakfast, mind spinning and whirling with half made plans.
/
Merlin shut the door behind him, snagging a towel off of the counter and ruffling sweat slicked hair. Showering was definitely a must this morning, he thought absently, pulling off his soaked shirt and dropping it in the small closet that held the washer and dryer. After last week's storms, the air was heavy with humidity, thick and all but solid with all of the water that had coalesced in it. He hated it- it made it difficult for him to breathe, and made him sweat disgustingly when he went out for his morning jog.
Plucking a razor bladed knife off of the counter, he absently spun it end over end as he walked into the living room, considering whether or not to wake the man asleep in his bed to join him in the shower. It would be nice, but he really didn't have time to take another nap before it was time to leave. Besides that, Arthur had already gotten his kicks last night. Normally the man didn't come home with him for fear of being seen by someone who knew him, but he'd gotten into another of his infamous arguments with Uther the night before and refused to remain at home. His ego was bruised, and Merlin had to be the balm to soothe it, annoying as that was.
Dropping the knife into its proper holder, inside a hollowed out book, he tossed the towel on the couch and headed into his bathroom, hoping that Arthur was in a deep enough sleep not to wake up when he turned on the water.
/
He wasn't.
/
Elyan stared into the mirror as he adjusted his tie after breakfast, wishing for the millionth time that he'd just followed his father's advice and become a machinist. This was ridiculous, he thought miserably, him in a monkey suit, working as an accountant of all the ridiculous things, and for Uther Pendragon! The man who'd practically had his father killed! His hands tightened against the silk, and he fought for his control. No, Uther hadn't killed his father, over work had, coupled with the fact that Uther was demanding and had stressed him over an elaborate set of railings for their country house. His hands loosened, and he took a deep, calming breath. Now was not the time to get angry.
Picking up the briefcase sitting forlornly on the side table, he glanced once more in the mirror and headed out the door.
/
Percival stood in the elevator, wondering whether or not he'd once again made an enormous mistake. He'd spent half the morning wandering aimlessly through the lifeless apartment, thinking miserably of a time when he'd spent life in a far better place, one that didn't mean breakfast was lean coffee and thin bread every morning. He'd liked his old life, loved the way that he could do anything he want, and no one had cared. He'd simply existed, seen the world, and relished it.
And now where was he? Stuck as an analyst in an impersonal set of offices, his body shoved into a suit, his very life being steadily sucked out of him.
The most interesting things he could look forward to now were his lunch and the gym. How had this happened?
He was jolted out of his miserable introspection as the elevator door clicked open to admit Gwaine.
/
Gwaine was, big surprise, running late. Normally he would have simply decided to run on coffee and sheer will power, but no, he'd decided to have breakfast! And in doing so, he'd managed to make himself late.
The doors to the elevator opened, and he grinned a bit anxiously at Percival as he darted inside. Irony of ironies, all three of the hires had moved into the same building. The doors shut behind him and he turned to stand next to Percival. As always, the man simply smiled and nodded at him, silent and imposing as the statue of the Sphinx. He smiled back, feeling a bit of stress fade away. The man had that sort of influence on people.
He reclined against the wall, feeling the reassuring clicks and whirs of gears behind him. The walls were metal, and fairly reflective. Furtively, he turned and checked his hair.
The elevator stopped, and opened to admit another passenger- Elyan, looking decidedly tired and rather dejected.
They murmured "Morning," at each other, and the doors closed.
/
The spy surveyed the other two members of his morning routine, feeling inordinately pleased with himself. These two were just as suspicious arousing as himself- he'd checked their files, and his own was impressive.
Percival Schloss- Former name Parsifal Munsalvaesche, heir to the powerful German Munsalvaesche family, ran away at 15. Forcibly returned, then shipped off to a German boarding school. In and out of the school sickroom for all sorts of fighting injuries, but graduated as valedictorian, or the German equivalent. Spent several years wandering Europe, ended up with an Oxford education. Now working as an analyst.
Elyan Nevere- Young, black, and forever in the wrong place at the wrong time. Accused of a million things, from purse snatching to first degree murder, never convicted. His sister was a secretary in the Camelot Corporation, and a first class cook by all accounts. Had a talent for metalworking. Father had died of stress, mother had apparently died of some form of cancer. Graduated at top quarter of his high school, in England. Had ended up at MIT for a bit, then at UCLA for reasons unknown. Now working as yet another accountant.
Gwaine Noble- An ex-alcoholic with ties back to the Orkness family, a group of Scottish land holders, and dangerously addictive charm. Barely scraped through high school, managed to get into a second rate college and climbed his way with charm and seduction through the schools scum to the elite. Fought, scraped, scrimped and saved his way into a good university, selling his body on the way out of necessity. Graduated from Oxford on scholarship. Hired to be the Head of PR.
Yes, the spy thought smugly, he was safe.
/
It was a long, long, long day in the office.
Merlin's head drooped over his desk, his body fighting valiantly to remain awake, but certainly about to fail. His fingers twitched in what might have been a pattern. It was simply the spasmodic twitch of a relaxing body. The room was quiet and calm, the only sounds the soft tick tick tick of the clock hanging on the wall.
The calm was delicately broken by a touch on his arm.
Swimming up out of exhaustion, Merlin stared blearily up at deep eyes.
"You alright?"
"Mmm?" He managed, wondering if he was still half asleep.
The face above him curved into a smile. "You're exhausted, aren't you?"
" 'pends on 'oo's asking," he slurred, reaching up to rub at his eyes. He felt like someone had taken an elephant and preformed a fandango all over him while wearing super-sized cleats. Keeping up with Arthur did this to people, and truth be told, it was unusual that he didn't fall asleep at work more often.
"Percival, from Analysis," the blob of face told him.
"Perci- Oh!" He pulled himself upright, smiling at the big man, rubbing sleep blurred eyes. "That's the most I've ever heard you say."
The big man smiled, eyes crinkling. "I get that a lot. Is Mr. Pendragon in? I have the analysis on the Sokiyama accounts."
"Soki- ah, yes, those ones," Merlin muttered. "I can take them. He's probably in a bad mood anyway, and you really don't want to disturb him when he's like that."
Percival grinned his thanks, handing over the files. Merlin took them, murmuring his thanks in return. The Sokiyama accounts belonged to the very powerful Sokiyama family, all of which were about as dangerous as the Pendragon's in Japan. They were coming over to the city fairly soon, and everyone was on edge, struggling to get ready to wine and dine them in to a stupor of pleasure with them. They were vital to the companies health and well being, and a major headache for Merlin, who was arranging everything.
He was reading through the file when Percival said, "Gwaine, Elyan, Leon, Lance and I are headed out tonight to Mary's bar. You want to come?"
Was that hope in his voice? Merlin looked up, torn. He desperately wanted to just get out and about, relax and not have to worry about Arthur's short temper blowing up at Uther and requiring him to play nursemaid, but he knew that Arthur would be a nightmare to deal with if he did. Sighing, he shook his head. "Arthur'll probably have me working late tonight," he said dejectedly. "If I get away I'll show though."
Percival beamed at him. "Right then." He waved and left, Merlin watching him with a mixture of envy and misery. He was jolted out of it when his newest acquisition to the Pages sauntered in.
"Mordred," he said dryly, eyeing the lanky boy. Mordred, tall, black haired, and vain as a raven, had been one of Uther's picks, not his. He was sleeping with half of the people on the fifth floor, which Merlin couldn't have cared less about, and had a bad habit of annoying him, which he did care about. He also acted as Merlin's eyes and ears throughout the building, a miniature spy in his own right. The two of them had a long history together, but that didn't mean they liked each other much anymore. A falling out nearly four years previous had turned the two into complete strangers.
"Merlin," Mordred drawled in reply, dropping a green file on his desk. "From Sampson, on 24. It's to go to Emerson on 34th, and that's Remington's issue." He dropped into the chair on the opposite side of Merlin's desk with boneless grace. "Also, I thought you might want to know that the charming Elyan Nevere's making eyes at you."
Merlin choked on the drink he'd been trying to take. "What?"
Mordred grinned. "Kid you not. He's not so bad- certainly better than Arthur."
"Shut up," Merlin said, mortified. "How did you find this out?"
"Stalker pictures on his phone." Seeing the look on Merlin's face, he snorted. "Elyan, that is- I watched him take them. I didn't go through it or anything. As for Arthur, well, it was kind of obvious when you leave his office all breathless and flushed."
Merlin turned a very delicate shade of pink. "As long as you didn't go through anyone's phone…" he muttered, setting down the water bottle. Sighing, he rubbed his forehead. "So, tell me what else you know."
/
The spy was annoyed. Not angry, no, he was above that, but annoyed. He'd gone out of his way to have Merlin try to be there tonight, but it hadn't worked.
He prowled about the apartment, drumming his fingers against his leg in an attempt to think clearly. It wasn't working very well.
On the coffee table, his phone buzzed. The other phone. The Boss's phone.
He answered.
"Yes?"
"How are things?"
"They've been better, but I assure you, I'm working on it. It'll take me a while to ferret him out."
A low hum. "Alright. Hurry, though."
The spy stared out the window at the city scape. Rain splatters were beginning to show on the glass, and angry clouds were once again forming themselves on the horizon. "I am hurrying. It's just going to be something of a long job, and one wrong move could get me killed, as you well know. Don't worry. I'll find the Dragonlord and dispose of him."
Silence, then, "I'll be in touch."
Click.
/
Merlin closed the door to his apartment, fighting with his coat and umbrella. Arthur, he was disgusted to see, had already made himself comfortable on the couch with no apparent designs on leaving.
"You know," he grumbled, "I do have a life outside of work."
"Is that so," Arthur deadpanned, grinning up at him. Merlin sighed, shaking his head. Dropping his umbrella in the stand and hanging up the oversized coat, he moved into the kitchen and opened the refrigerator. Nothing inside looked remotely appetizing, and he had the sneaking suspicion that the block of cheese in the corner hadn't looked quite that angry this morning. Closing the door, he straightened, his spine popping and crackling as it relaxed and released the tension it had been holding all day.
"So, any reason you followed me home like a kicked puppy?" Merlin asked, rubbing his back as he walked into the living room. Dropping onto his favorite seat, an incredibly ugly, overstuffed chair the color of mashed peas, he looked expectantly at Arthur, who sighed irritably.
"I just didn't want to go deal with him, that's all. I've had enough of this passive aggressive crap he's been giving me lately, and I just don't want to go home."
Merlin ignored the pang of misery that swept through him on that one. He'd known since day one that this hadn't been about love, that it was about lust and anger and something that might be friendship but might as easily have been something infinitely worse. They'd always had something of a fragile relationship after The Incident, but with everything that was going on, it was getting increasingly difficult to deal with each other for extended periods of time, and that hurt.
He was so wrapped in his thoughts, mulling over the recent events of his life, that he didn't notice until Arthur had bumped their foreheads together that he'd gotten up.
"Stop that," the blonde chided firmly. "You're giving me anxiety, sitting there like the world is coming to swallow you up. If you're going to be so broody and miserable, I can just find a hotel."
Merlin's brain processed the horror of trying to deal with Arthur's hotel bills. He shuddered. "You can stay, really."
"Then cheer up, Merlin. It's not like the world ended today."
Yes, he thought as he allowed Arthur to pull him up and towards the bedroom, but this could end tomorrow, and would you even care?
/
An hour later, as he stood at the window of his bedroom, hearing the front door close and feeling tears course down his cheeks, Merlin wondered why he'd ever thought this was a good idea.
The rain pounding the window rain in rivulets down, mirroring his pale image, and in the faint reflection, the growing bruise on his jaw became clear.