The second chapter! Finally!
I'm sorry for the wait - I've had exams, my birthday, revision and real life to juggle, and fic took a temporary back seat. ): But I finally finished my GCSEs yesterday, so all is good! I know have six weeks of nothing to write lots of fic. 8D Yaaaaaay.
So, as usual, I don't own any of the characters. ): They all belong to the mighty Beeb.
Chapter Summary: In which Arthur confesses his love for Matt Smith, Morgana throws food, Hunith steals Merlin's remaining sanity, and Merlin tortures a coffee cup.
"I, Arthur Pendragon, handsome young man and spectacular Rugby player, admit to you, Morgana Pendragon, stroppy pregnant woman and possessor of bad music tastes, that I am, and will forever be, in love with Matt Smith, even with his extreme excess of forehead."
Morgana looked up from spreading butter on her third slice of toast (Arthur had pointed out to her that if she kept it up, she'd be really, really fat, to which she had very maturely responded by throwing the empty box of Cheerios at Arthur's head), and slowly raised an eyebrow at him.
"In addition to this confession that I have deemed you worthy enough to hear, I also admit that I have a strange, bordering on unhealthy, obsession with all things Doctor Who, and am the proud owner of a new life-size cut-out of a Dalek."
"And you chose to grace me with this information, why?"
"Well, Morgana-"
"Actually, no – don't answer that. Just eat your breakfast." Morgana turned back to her toast, laying down her knife delicately.
"But-"
"In silence."
Closing his mouth with a huff, Arthur stuck his tongue out at the top of her head, assuming that because her attention was on that morning's newspaper, she wouldn't notice.
He was wrong.
"In silence, and without the childishness, please, Arthur."
"Yes, Mother." He rolled his eyes, flicking a stray Cheerio at her. It landed silently in the middle of her perfectly buttered piece of toast.
With all the elegance and lady-like skill that only ten summers of finishing school could achieve, she flung the toast at her brother, grinning triumphantly when it landed butter-side down on his clean white t-shirt.
Feeling as though history was repeating itself, Arthur proceeded to declare war and vow to get revenge. He had very quickly come to the conclusion that he was just not destined to wear white.
"What do you mean, that was why you left in a hurry?" Lancelot stared at Merlin in disbelief, mop poised above the bucket of water, all thoughts of mopping up the spilt jam in front of him gone from his mind.
"What do you think I meant?" Merlin scowled at him, placing a bag of sugar a little too forcefully onto the shelf. It shoved all the bags behind it back a few inches.
"Well, I thought I heard you say that you left Morgana's party in a rush, ALONE might I add, because you finally got to make out with Arthur, but I can't be right."
"…I did."
"What the hell were you thinking?" As heads snapped around to stare at him in shock, Lancelot lowered his voice down to an angry whisper. "You were practically drooling over him at the party, and when you finally get lucky, you leave? God, Merlin, sometimes I wonder how you've survived up until now."
"Hey, that's not fair!" He ignored Lancelot's snort, instead focusing his attention on stacking the shelf. "You weren't the one making out with him! It was just so… overwhelming…"
"Merlin! Enough!" Merlin held back a laugh at Lancelot's grimace. "Please, no more details!"
"Alright, alright." Placing one of the last bags of sugar on the shelf, Merlin shrugged. "Well, at least no one saw." When Lancelot shifted uncomfortably and said nothing, Merlin frowned. "What? What's wrong?"
"About that…"
"Oh God. What?"
"Morgana saw."
Merlin let out a long breath he didn't even know he as holding. "Well that's not so-"
"And she took a picture." Merlin nearly dropped what he was holding. "And sent it to all his contacts."
"Fuck!" Merlin thrust the last remaining bag of sugar on the shelf so quickly it pushed the bag at the back of the shelf off it with force, right into the face of a browsing customer. "Fuck!"
Letting his forehead fall onto the lip of the shelf, Merlin let out a groan. "My life is over!"
"Buck up, mate." Lance placed a comforting hand on his friend's shoulder. "It's not all bad – Morgana said her and Arthur's father left his phone at home when he went on a business trip, so he won't have seen it yet."
"Oh my God. Kill me now, Lance please."
BLEEP. BLEEP. BLEEEEEEEEEEEEP!
Groggily, Merlin rolled over in bed, stopping himself from tumbling out the other side quickly. He flung an arm out in the general direction of his bedside table, flapping his hand about in a frantic search for his phone. It was beeping angrily about something, probably an important something, but Merlin was too sleepy to particularly care. When he couldn't seem to locate it, Merlin pulled the covers over his head in the hope that the phone would soon realize that this was not a good time to be bleeping inconsiderately, and shut up.
It did, for ten blissful seconds, before, after seemingly stopping for breath, began again with much more gusto. Silently cursing whoever deemed it necessary to make mobiles so catastrophically loud, Merlin flung back the covers and sat up slowly. Feeling his way to his bedside table, He began to pat the covering of stuff to locate the monstrosity. When he did, he made the mistake of flipping it open. Wincing dramatically at the sudden blinding light, Merlin squinted at the screen.
"You have one new voicemail'
With a long-suffering sigh, Merlin dialed 121 and held the phone to his ear.
/Received today at 7:54AM./
7:54? On a Saturday? Whoever left him that message was going to die a very slow and painful death for waking him up so early, Merlin decided, fuming. He listened closely as the phone bleeped, signaling the start of the message. It better be bloody important… He thought bitterly.
/"Um, hi, it's Arthur. You know, Arthur Pendragon? The one you ran into and nearly decapitated with your pencils?"/
Merlin let out an angry breath – Arthur had run into him. Although, as frustrated as he was, he couldn't help but feel a little gooey inside at the sound of Arthur's voice. Which just resulted in making him even angrier. He strongly resisted putting the phone down.
/"So, um, I hope you don't mind, but I got your number from Lance, and he seemed a little too eager to give it to me, if I'm honest…. But, whatever. I'm at my sister's flat, and she, uh, showed me the photo she took. You know, the one of us making out?"/
Did Arthur think he was an idiot? Of course he knew what photo!
/"Which is actually pretty hot, even though you do look a little crazed… Morgana thought it was funny, but I thought it was kinda cute…."/
He paused for a moment, and Merlin began to wonder if Arthur was actually going to say anything useful.
/"So, the reason I called-"/
Finally.
/"Was to speak to you about who Morgana sent the photo to. I assume Lance told you it was sent to my father? And I also assume he told you my father was on a business trip and had forgotten his phone?"/
Merlin's stomach fell. He'd almost forgotten about that. Trust Arthur to be annoying and bring it up.
/"And I figured we needed a plan of action on how to delete the photo before Father gets a chance to see it."/
Well, duh.
/So I'll be coming to your dorm at 8:30 so we can go for coffee to formulate a plan."/
Merlin checked his clock hurriedly. Shit. It was two minutes to eight. Leaping out of bed, phone glued to his ear, Merlin frantically tried to make his room look half-decent. Why he felt he had to, he had no idea, but Merlin had a burning need to look calm and collected when Arthur arrived.
/"Oh, and this time, please try not to knock me out. Or cover me in paint. Thanks."/
The bastard.
Merlin glanced at the clock. 8:22. Ha, he was early. He'd had to have the quickest shower he'd ever had in his entire life, and had only had time to throw the dirty laundry that had accumulated across the floor into the wash basket his mother had insisted on buying him to deal with later (looking on it now, Merlin realized just how useful Hunith's purchases could be), but the fact still remained – he was early. Possibly the first time he had ever been early, but still.
Brushing his teeth furiously, Merlin perched on the edge of his freshly changed bed. Deep down, he knew that Arthur wouldn't be able to tell, or care, that Merlin's bed sheets were clean, but he had a sneaking suspicion that Arthur was waiting for him to slip up, or forget something, so he could get him back for the paint-on-shirt incident. Thus, Merlin had decided the best, and only, course of action was to keep everything as perfect (ish) as possible, so Arthur had nothing to work with… It made sense in Merlin's mind.
After depositing his toothbrush in the adjoining bathroom, Merlin plonked himself at his desk, twiddling his thumbs. He stayed like that for several minutes until someone knocked quietly at the door. Leaping up to wrench it open in a way that was possibly too eager, Merlin's face fell.
"Mum!"
"Well, it's a pleasure to see you too, dear." She tutted, bustling her way past him into his room. "Honestly, is that any way to treat your mother?"
"Sorry – I just wasn't expecting you." He closed the door, sighing silently. Where was Arthur?
"Weren't expecting me?" Hunith raised a neat eyebrow. "I always pop round on a Saturday morning." Merlin cursed himself mentally. Of course she did. He'd been so focused on Arthur, as much as he hated to admit it that he'd completely forgotten about his mother's weekly visits. He felt a small stab of guilt at forgetting her. It must have shown on face, because she stepped forward quickly, placing a concerned hand on his forehead. "Are you alright, Merlin? You look a little ill. Are you getting enough sleep? I did tell you they worked you too hard at this place!"
"Mum, it's Oxford. Of course there's going to be lots of work. It's practically synonymous with the name."
"Enough of the cheek, Merlin. Is a mother not allowed to worry about her son? Besides, don't try to confuse me with all your fancy words." She frowned at him, tapping her finger gently on his nose. He knew full well that she understood hat he meant – she'd gone to Oxford as well, and got herself an English Language degree. Still, he felt the need to apologise.
"Sorry, Mum."
She waved him off instantly, smiling warmly at her son. "Can I make you a cup of tea, dear?"
"Mum! I'm supposed to offer you! Not the other way around," he huffed, trying to herd her away from the kettle. "Let me look after you for once."
"Nonsense," She said simply. "You're tired – and clearly working too hard. Go and sit down."
Silently, Merlin sat down.
"Now, are you sure you're alright, Merlin?" Although she had her back to him, Merlin could imagine perfectly the look of concern on her face.
"Yes, Mum." He smiled encouragingly. The worried expression did not shift as she carefully handed him a mug.
"Sleeping enough?" He nodded, taking a sip. Somehow, tea that Hunith had made always tasted better than tea Merlin had made, even though he made it exactly the same way. "What about your Magic?" She finished the question at a whisper, her eyes flickering nervously toward the closed door. Ever since he was 15, and they had begun to realize that using his Magic too often exhausted him, and in extreme cases, made him ill, Merlin had promised his mother that he would watch his health and only use his Magic when he had to. They hadn't been able to work out why it affected him so (When he was a child, he used his magic all the time, and it had never affected him), just that it did. "You're not using it too often?" She continued. "And you're looking after yourself when you do?"
"Honestly, Mum, I'm fine." He grinned widely at her, hoping to put her at ease.
She didn't look convinced. "So," she said, cheerily changing the subject. "Found any hot guys you like?"
Merlin spluttered over his tea. "Mum!"
"What? Am I not allowed to ask?" She smiled at him innocently.
"Do you have to ask like that?"
Before she got the chance to answer, someone knocked sharply on the door. Checking his watch frantically, Merlin smiled. 8:30 exactly. He jumped toward the door as Hunith moved to open it. "I'll get it!" He cried, right in Arthur's face.
"No need to shout, Merlin." Arthur said simply, looking unfazed.
"Who is it, Merlin?"
"Arthur. He's a…." Merlin struggled over the word, Was Arthur really a friend?
"Friend." Arthur answered for him.
"Male friend?" Hunith sounded far too interested.
"Mum!" Merlin felt his ears go red, and looked away from Arthur's face quickly. He noticed a small smile tugged at Arthur's lips at Merlin's embarrassment.
"Invite him in then! Honestly, have you no manners?"
Arthur grinned, stepping around him into the room. "Yes, Merlin, have you no manners?"
"I have plenty of manners." Merlin muttered weakly, closing the door with perhaps a little too much force. The coat that was hanging on the back of it fell to the floor with a quiet 'flump'. Still grinning, (The stupid man, Merlin thought furiously) Arthur picked it up quickly and handed it to him. Feeling childish, Merlin snatched it off him and placed it on the hook again. He pulled a face, which only made Arthur grin more.
"Would you like a cup of tea, Merlin's friend? Hunith called. "Did you say your name was Arthur?"
"Yes, Ma'am. And, tea would be lovely, thank you." He turned to Merlin, an unreadable expression on his face. "Aren't you going to introduce us?"
"Yes, Merlin, introduce us properly." Hunith carefully handed Arthur his tea, smiling a little too warmly at him for Merlin's liking.
"Arthur, this is my mother, Hunith. Mum, this is Arthur Pendragon."
"Pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Emrys."
"And you, Arthur. But please, call me Hunith." Hunith continued to smile at Arthur, and Merlin couldn't help but really hate how charming he was. He'd won over his mother in seconds. Letting out a small huff, Merlin grabbed his empty mug and stomped into the bathroom to wash it (loudly). He heard his mother give out a small sigh, and scowled deeply. "You know, Arthur, I've been waiting for Merlin to meet such a nice young man such as yourself for some time now…" Merlin gawked at himself in the mirror above the sink – for starters, how on Earth could she tell Arthur was into men so quickly? And secondly, why the hell did she have to be so embarrassing? "I do worry about him sometimes…" She continued, as if Merlin couldn't hear her.
"You needn't worry about him with me, Hunith." Arthur spoke quietly, as if to comfort her. "I was planning on asking him out to dinner this evening, actually."
"Oh, how lovely!"
"WHAT?" Merlin stuck his head around the door, his expression a mixture of much suppressed eagerness, and pure fury. Looking between Arthur's smug face, and his mother's annoyingly pleased one; Merlin really began to question how quickly his sanity was going to run out.
Sitting on the train a few hours later, Merlin crushed the take-away coffee cup between his hands in frustration. He'd spent the previous twenty minutes of the train journey to Arthur's childhood home and Uther's current residence trying desperately to ignore the casual arm that Arthur had on the back of Merlin headrest. He was also furiously trying to suppress the thought that kept cropping up in his stupid, stupid head – if the headrest wasn't there, the jostling of the train would unsettle Arthur's arm, making it fall forward around Merlin's shoulders. Which, as infuriated and ashamed of his own stupidity it made him, Merlin decided he really wouldn't mind. Mentally swearing about every fibre of Arthur's annoyingly appealing being, Merlin twisted the cup in his hands, ignoring the trickle of cold coffee that escaped and dribbled down his wrist.
"What did that poor cup ever do to you, Merlin?" Arthur asked, removing his arm from the back of Merlin's chair to gently take the offending cardboard cup away from him. Merlin looked up sharply as Arthur's fingers lingered at his wrist a moment too long. Arthur quickly covered up the apparent sign of affection by using the cuff of his hoodie to wipe the trickle of coffee away. Merlin watched, slightly confused, as Arthur held the coffee cup in his hands, rather than showing off and tossing it easily into the bin somewhere down the aisle like Merlin thought he would.
"Nothing." He murmured, folding his arms. "How long did you say it would take?" Merlin asked, glancing at his watch. He had a lecture to get to that afternoon.
"Maybe in a minute? Look," Arthur suddenly grabbed Merlin's elbow, pulling him toward the window. "You can just about see the station. See?" Merlin nodded in agreement, too engrossed in the knowledge that Arthur smelt like musky aftershave (something ridiculously expensive, probably), coffee, and something that he couldn't quite put his finger on, but what was just so Arthur-ish, that he really didn't care about the proximity of the station.
Almost as Arthur had pulled him across the seat, the train pulled into the station, and people began to shuffle down the aisle toward the exit of the train. Merlin reluctantly moved away from the window, and from Arthur, and followed the other passenger's examples. Pulling his satchel onto his shoulder, he turned to Arthur, who was still sat down, stretching lazily.
"So, uh, I'm following you, 'cause I have absolutely no idea where we're going…." He shifted uncomfortably.
Arthur nodded, standing up slowly. They stood facing each other for several moments before anyone said anything. "I assume you know where the platform is, Merlin?" Arthur raised an eyebrow at him, and it took Merlin a few moments to realize he was stood completely in the way, blocking Arthur from the aisle of the train.
"Oh. Yeah, sorry." He mumbled, blushing furiously. He heard Arthur chuckle quietly behind him. Avoiding looking at anything but the floor, Merlin stumbled onto the platform, cursing himself for not complaining when Arthur guided him through the crowds with a hand on the small of his back.
"You've got to be kidding me."
Arthur looked at him, eyebrow raised, expression confused. "What?"
"No way is that car here for you. Is that- is that a flag? With a crest? Oh dear God, please tell me that is not a Pendragon crest." At Arthur's silence, Merlin spluttered out a small laugh. "It is, isn't it?"
"Well, as a 900 year old family, Merlin, it is only appropriate that the Pendragons have a family crest."
Merlin blinked at him. "Honestly?"
"Just get in the car, Merlin."
"No way is this your house." Merlin gaped through the tinted window as they pulled up in front of what could only be described as a fairy tale castle. He stared blankly as the driver got out of the car and opened the door for him.
"This is my father's house." Arthur said simply, squinting against the sun at the building with a look of faint distaste. "Morgana and I spend the holidays here. Sometimes."
At the unreadable expression on Arthur's face, much akin to the one he had worn in his dorm earlier that day, Merlin decided it would not be a good idea to press the matter. "So, um, you're sure your father isn't at home?"
"He's not due back yet."
"Okay." Merlin said, shoving his hands into his pockets. He followed Arthur as he strode toward the front entrance. "How are we gonna play this?"
"What do you mean?"
"Well, how are we gonna get in?"
Arthur stared at him for a long moment; such a long moment that Merlin began to feel self-conscious and shifted nervously.
"Through the front door? I have a key, Merlin."
"Oh. Well, when you said we needed to formulate a plan, I figured that involved getting in as well…" He trailed off, realizing his logic didn't make much sense. Of course he would have a key, you idiot! He thought to himself.
"Right." Arthur Merely said, unlocking the door. He immediately strode off through the entrance hall (which was far too big for just one man, Merlin decided bitterly), and Merlin had to hurry to keep up with him. He followed Arthur into what Merlin assumed was Uther's study, and he instantly felt uncomfortable. He was momentarily overcome with the feeling that he really, really shouldn't be here, and that they could be found at any moment. From the way Arthur had to pause for a moment to get his bearings, Merlin assumed Uther's study was usually out of bounds. This only amplified Merlin's feeling of unease.
He lingered unhelpfully in the doorway as Arthur searched for Uther's phone. His eyes flickered over everything in the room – a large wall-size bookcase on one side, a dark, very old and expensive looking mahogany desk and another closed door on the other. A large map of the world was framed on the wall to Merlin's left. At Arthur's withering look, he stepped into the room.
"Check on his desk, would you?" Merlin nodded, wandering over to the aforementioned object. It was obsessively tidy, with clearly labeled folders and trays containing any pieces of paper. A framed photo caught his eye – a blonde, kind-looking woman stood with whom Merlin assumed was a younger Uther. A dark haired, grinning girl stood in front of the woman, who was cradling a blonde-haired baby to her chest/ Merlin faltered for a moment as he realized what he was looking at – the young girl was Morgana, ad the baby was Arthur. He felt a strong pan of sadness – Lancelot had told him that Arthur's mother had died before Arthur had even started nursery. This must be one of the very few photos they had had taken together as a family.
There were a few other photos – a young Morgana posing with a very expensive looking pony and a polo mallet, a teenaged Arthur in cricket whites with a cricket bat leant casually on his shoulder, his free hand in his pocket, and both of them at what Merlin assumed was their secondary school proms (He hated to admit it, but Arthur looked very attractive in a tuxedo), but they were all pushed to the sides of the desk. The photo of all of them together had been carefully placed in the middle of the desk, in pride of place.
"Found it!" Arthur's triumphant cry broke Merlin out of his thought and he looked up just as someone closed the front door. They looked at each other for a frantic moment as they could hear footsteps and muffled voices coming toward them. Merlin watched, panicking, as Arthur calmly deleted the photo, before placing the phone back where they found it.
"What're we gonna do?" Merlin hissed. "You said he's not due back yet!"
"I have an idea." Arthur grabbed Merlin's hand, ignored his protests, and dragged him toward the closed door Merlin had seen earlier. It finally clicked what it was – a cupboard.
"Oh, no way! There is not way in hell I am going to hide in your father's cupboard!"
"Yes, you are. Now come on!" Merlin very quickly changed his mind and let Arthur pull him into the cupboard – he could hear Uther asking someone to bring him a drink just outside the study door. As if in some kind of scripted film, Arthur closed the cupboard door, just as Uther opened his.
Trying to breathe as quietly as possible, Merlin took in their current situation. The stationary-and-filing cupboard was only just big enough for the two men, leaving them no choice but to stand chest to chest, Arthur's hands braced on the wall either side of Merlin's head, Merlin's face about an inch from Arthur's shoulder.
They stood very still for a few minutes, their breathing hushed, but still unbelievably loud in the confined space. As they heard someone enter the room and begin a discussion with Uther, they allowed themselves to breathe normally.
"Merlin?" Arthur whispered, leaning in close so he wouldn't have to speak too loud.
"What?" Merlin desperately tried to ignore the way that Arthur's hushed voice made warmth pool in his stomach.
"Would now be an inappropriate time for me to tell you that I can't stop thinking about you? And how this situation is actually a real turn-on?"
"Anytime would be inappropriate for you to tell me that!" Merlin hissed, trying very had to refrain himself from raising his voice and blowing their cover. "You are unbelievable!" He continued, as Arthur had to struggle to stifle his laughter.
"I mean it though…. The not being able to stop thinking about you part." Arthur murmured, pulling a little closer (if it were at all possible).
"You are still unbelievable. And a prat."
"Well, at least I'm not an idiot."
Letting his head fall heavily against Arthur's shoulder in exasperation, he really, really wished Uther would find something important to do /elsewhere/, so that he could get the hell out of there, and really, really hoped that Arthur couldn't feel the frantic fluttering of his excited heart.