Disclaimer: I do not own Merlin, dammit. *Sobs*. It belongs to BBC.

Notes: Thank you to everyone who read this, I was really worried about the feedback I may get, considering the subject. Thank you guys so much, really does mean a lot to me. So yeah, thanks a lot.

My only excuse for the obscene lateness is that I was ill. Like, really ill. Sorry. I hope you like this – I'm a bit unsure. But blergh, I always will be unsure of my own work. As long as you guys enjoy it, it's all good.

Be as brutally honest as possible :]

The coffee boy
[2/6]

Kuppa Koffee coffee lounge has, somehow along the way, become almost a second home. Merlin isn't sure whether that is a good thing or not – on the plus side he can get food without having to pay a dime. But then it is also his work and the fact that his work, whether it is run by his best-friends' family or not, has become a second home is probably something that is cause for worry.

Even Will says so, and it's his family's business.

There is a faint chill in the morning air that Merlin hadn't accounted for when he left earlier, fooled by the clear sky. The breeze, gentle as it is, nips at his skin like a needle, mocking him for his thoughtlessness. If Merlin were the type, he might've cursed his misfortune, but he sees very little value in it. Why ruin a good day for something so trivial? He doesn't believe in grudges and tries his hardest not to judge and to please everyone.

Most would mistake this as a brainless naivety, an uncommon blindness to the realities of life but he doesn't think so. Merlin knows well that some people cannot be saved, that not all actions can be forgiven, and some people just do not have 'good side' to be sought out. He knows when anger is deserved and deceit required.

He is not stupid. Just optimistic, and possibly lazy because he finds harbouring negative feelings such an exhausting chore, a pointless endeavour that wastes energies that could be used elsewhere on more important people like friends or family, or into other tasks like work or relaxing.

Most find his laid-back attitude and seemingly endless optimism a little hard to understand. Will is one such person, despite their closeness, he will never truly understand Merlin's distaste for grudges (the sandy-haired boy can hold a wicked grudge that Merlin is very glad he has not yet had the misfortune to endure). But he has an ally in his good friend Gwen, a wonderful dark-haired beauty he befriended quite by accident whilst lost one day when he first arrived here and wondered into the local florist.

She understands his optimism because she views the world in a similar way. Some say it is through the eyes of a child, but Merlin thinks not. Merlin thinks like see the world on a level beyond most others who are too tied down by the small, irritating things and never focus on the bigger picture. Perhaps slightly egotistical, but his belief nonetheless.

When he reaches the coffee lounge, his arms are coated in goose flesh and there is a slight tremor to his body. He tries the back door curiously and smiles when he finds it open – so they remembered this morning to unlock the door for their poor employees. He crosses the threshold with ease, hearing the rumble of the kettle from the kitchen, one door down. There is a low murmuring coming from that direction also, a sweet high voice and a lower reply.

Will's mother and the boy himself no doubt. She is probably finishing off the cakes to be put on display today – if Merlin is lucky and sales down on the confectionary he might be able to take home a slice or two for desert. Merlin knows Gaius would appreciate it, if he isn't slinking off to Alice's for dinner, like a wily old fox.

Merlin grins. Old as he is Gaius, apparently, still has a little life left in him if the eyes he has been making at the elderly woman who works at the library is any indication. Merlin would've found it cute, if it wasn't his uncle. The thought of Gaius engaging in such activities is... disturbing at the very least, and not conducive to keeping breakfast down.

He shrugs the thought off just as he shimmies his light jacket down his arms and throws it carelessly over a hook – it misses, and slides down the wall in a pathetic droop but Merlin doesn't bother to correct it. He simply waves a dismissing hand in its direction; a little rest on the floor will hardly do the well worn, well loved jacket any harm considering what else it has been through, and heads towards the kitchen.

He shoulders his way into the room. "Morning," he smiles. Will, long time friend, even after they moved from the little country village Ealdor where they had grown up to big, bad London, finally tempting Merlin away from his own meaningless existence there with promises of adventure in the city.

He has yet to see any of that promised adventure, really.

Will waves a hand at him whilst his mother beams and motions the dark haired boy over so that she may give him a proper Dempsie* welcome – a spine cracking hug from a surprisingly strong, deceptively small woman. Merlin endures the embrace with the grace of someone quite used to bouts of mild suffocation and hugs the woman back with as much enthusiasm but without the element of danger.

His secondary family, a home away from home.

"How's Hunith?" the same mandatory inquiry, as if Merlin has yet to snap the umbilical cord – he is not Will, he thinks cheekily, smirking at the man in question. Will just glowers at him as if he can hear just what Merlin is saying. Probably can, it isn't the first time Merlin has teased him for still snapping at his mothers' ankles, completely ignoring the fact that Mummy Dempsie is a force to be reckoned with and does not let go easily.

Blue eyes twinkling with mirth as he smartly dodges a snide attack to his shoulder (he has gotten good at dodging, has to be because his punches are definitely not up to par), and shrugs.

"When I last spoke to her she was doing well. Got an admirer apparently, the gardener she says." Will snorts from behind him and Merlin throws a glance over his shoulder. He, himself, isn't sure if he is happy with the news or not. But the cliché alone is enough to bring a smile.

Mrs Dempsie is nodding vigorously. "Good, good," she says as he turns back to finish icing the last bit of the coffee cake cooling on the side. "Your mother is good woman, too good a woman to be left alone." Merlin agrees with the sentiment if not the actuality.

"Oh, look at that Ma," Will goads with a smile, slinking behind his mother as cheap protection even as he points to his dark haired friend. "I don't think Merlin's is too impressed. Not thinking of interfering, are you Merlin? Not going to go all big, bad son on him, are you?" His grin is wicked as the woman whips around, icing spatula waving threateningly in his face.

Merlin jumps back to avoid a vicious swipe.

"Don't you dare Merlin Balinor Emrys." Merlin cringes at his full name, and ducks his head shamefully as is expected, all the while throwing glares at Will who is sniggering behind his mothers' back like a child. No one would believe they were twenty years old. "Your ma deserves all the happiness she can get, and if this man is giving her just that you better leave well enough alone, boy. You understand?"

Merlin blinks a bit, unsure if that is a purely rhetorical question or if she is expecting a response. "Yes?"

"Especially now that you've left, she is all alone in that house of hers and that is just not right. I know, she still loves your father, and he was a bloody good man, a deserving man, but your mother is just as good if not better and she was not meant to lead a lonely life. You've grown up, are going about your own life and so help me boy, if you disrupt her chance to have the world again, I'll brain you."

Merlin risks a glance up, all big blues and contriteness. "Yes, Ma'am." Mrs. Dempsie looks him over, before a beaming smile breaks out over her face.

"You're a good lad, you are. If only my Will could be more like you."

Merlin smirks at his friend as he pushes by to grab a few things before leaving out the front. "Yeah, Will, why can't you be more like me?" He is still chuckling as he ducks out of the room and Will is getting his ear chewed for running in the kitchen.

Life is good.

There is a steady flow of customers throughout the day – a pattern to just that turns up for a drink. The mornings usually have an influx of the elderly catching up over tea and a light treat, their trolleys and bags tucked in as tight as possible to the tables and easily charmed by Merlin's winning smile and mile-a-minute chatter.

The early to late afternoons on a weekday, usually bring in the mothers and prams, maybe a few fathers.' Small families crowd around the tables, unsatisfied children pout and whine or chuckle and babble to themselves, babies scream or giggle and gurgle. The mothers and sometimes, fathers, are mostly weary looking but happy – usually. There has been the odd awkward moment where halfway through an order a mother will snap at her child, yank their arm and then be extra short with Merlin – who keeps the smile on his face and works quickly. It also sees a few people from the surrounding businesses popping in for their breaks – most of them up for a good chat.

On the weekend, that time period will also see a flooding of teenagers, looking for a milkshake or hot chocolate, who laugh and jeer and text along the comfy sofa's fitted on the sides. The girls try their hand at friendly flirting with Will and Merlin – Merlin is a little oblivious to this, just smiles at them and chats away, Will on the other hand flirts right back and if there are over eighteen, is quite happy to take a name and number , as long as his mother is not within earshot.

Finally there is closing time and they are bombarded by harried businessmen and women looking for a caffeine fix to last them the commute home, or to just give them a breather, a break from the office where they don't have to do anything. They are usually not the most sociable, a bit tired from the day's work, or distracted, eyes glazed with thoughts.

He is currently working the last of the morning shift – there are only a few elderly couples, old friends and partners, lingering in the place when Gwen turns up, grin beautiful and skin glowing. Merlin is finishing a transaction with a pleasant old lady, barely taller than an adolescent and a little shaky to boot, promising in a warm voice to bring her order over to save her the trouble when she prances over and flashing that bright smile.

"Thank you dear," she answers in a voice as quiet and quivery as her stature would suggest and pats his hand before tottering off to a cosy looking seat in the corner.

"Welcome to Koffee – oh, Gwen. Hey." He smiles. "You want anything?"

She waves her hand dismissively. "No, I just came to tell you the good news."

Merlin raises and eyebrow in question as he places a cup and saucer on a tray. "Good news?" he asks. "You've finally come to your senses and found dating me would be far better choice then Lance?" He wriggles his eyebrows ridiculously.

She giggles. "Oh, if only. But you're not one of those real rough, tough, save the world kind of men, and a girl like me needs someone like that."

Merlin raises an eyebrow, looks around secretively and leans in. "I'm in disguise." Gwen makes a high elongated noise of understanding and nods, smiling.

Then Will bustles past and nudges his friend a little. "Idiocy is not disguise, Merlin; it's an irreversible state of mind."

"Just like your ugliness is the incurable state of your face, right?"

"Oh har har." He cuffs Merlin around the head before slipping past him and serving the next customer.

Merlin shakes his head a little, picking the tray off the side. "I'll just deliver this and go on my break then you can tell me," he tells Gwen, who nods and disappears to find a table.

Merlin slides into place a few moments later, out of habit sweeping the table a little of crumbles into a neat pile for him to push into his hand later. "So?"

Gwen takes a big breath and then thrusts her left hand into Merlin's face, wiggling her fingers. Merlin blinks a bit, unsure just what is so fascinating about her hand –

"Oh, that's new," he says taking her hand and examining the ring. "When did he ask?"

"Last night," she beams.

"Took him long enough." Merlin smiles and releases her hand. "Congratulations. Lance is a good bloke." Gwen looks down at her hand, gazing at the ring for a moment as if in disbelief.

"I won't say it was a surprise – Lancelot isn't the best at hiding things. I mean, asking for my ring size is hardly subtle," she grins fondly. "But it was lovely nonetheless. He home cooked a meal and everything."

Merlin snorts. "Old romantic, that one. Make sure he doesn't try to take over the wedding preparations."

"Oh shut up, you. Just because he is secure enough in his masculinity to be romantic and in touch with his feminine side as well."

"Hey," Will brushes past them. "I am plenty in touch with my feminine side, Gwen."

"No, you are plenty in touch with other women's feminine side, you hussy."

Will chuckles and kisses her forehead. "Congrats. I expect an invite pronto – and pretty bridesmaids." He escapes with a cheeky wink and Gwen promising retribution if he even so much as thinks of hitting on her bridesmaids.

The reason he likes working at the coffee lounge is the repertoire one creates with the regulars. Even those who aren't the most talkative get a little smile when you can recite order perfectly – well most, some get annoyed at the presumption but nod grudgingly nonetheless. But those are few and far between.

One such customer is a blond guy who knows Lancelot somehow. Merlin never caught his name, only knows him a 'Strong, Black Coffee' Guy. He is attractive, in that classical prince-like way. Blond and blue eyed, nice physique, even after the accident. Yeah, Merlin remembers the guy before the few months' absence – if just barely – a few years prior. He had been taller, an inch or so taller than Gwen's Lance, and walked with the expectant swagger of a man who knew exactly just how attractive he was, but that hardly matters. Even after he had returned in a wheelchair, obviously a little uncomfortable with the looks some people – not many, but one or two – gave him he still retained that attractiveness and carried that air of superiority around him.

Only now it is more like a shield then simply a part of him.

He sits now over by the window, his coffee going cold as he stares out the window, obviously deep in thought. And not pleasant ones if he frowns on his face is anything to go by. Merlin shrugs and goes back to cleaning up the table he is at, stacking the plates and cups before sweeping the crumbs into the stack and disappearing out back for a few moments.

He is further distracted by a few more orders, and he only consciously remembers the blond as he passes his table. He pauses. "You finished with that?" Merlin asks, glancing at the coffee mug and back to the blonds' face.

Those blue eyes, a lighter shade then his own and a little colder, Merlin muses, study him for a moment before disregarding him. "Yes, thank you."

He is well spoken, and polite, if a little distant. There is an edge to his voice, a hint to an inner anger or frustration that Merlin could make many guesses at – not that he will.

"What's eating you?" It slips out before Merlin can stop it – his brain-mouth filter has always been a little faulty. Wiring was wrong or something, his mother would say when he was much younger, before pretending to tinker around his head making thoughtful noises before declaring him irreparable but delightfully unique, just to wipe the worried grimace of his face at the news. "You have a cloud over your head as black as sin."

But his inquiry is obviously not appreciated by the blond, if his gritted jaw and narrowed eyes are any indication. "I'm fine." His tone is cold and irritated and Merlin knows he has crossed some invisible line and makes a hasty retreat. He holds up his hands, even the one clutching the mug, in surrender.

"Just asking," he says, an apology in his voice but unspoken, even as the cold tone hurts a bit. Merlin has never appreciated the coldness some voice can get; it makes him uncomfortable and reminds him of an old ex who could be as cruel with his words as he could be sweet. He shrugs a bit, the old hurt of the memory diminishing instantly; as it always does (it is an old wound that healed nicely, if with only a little weeping in his very rare dark days).

Merlin smiles sheepishly, and is about to voice his apology when Mrs. Dempsie calls him over from the counter. He snaps his mouth shut and turns away, Mrs. Dempsie not being a woman to be ignored.

He'll apologise later.

*The surname comes from the actor Joe Dempsie who plays Will. :] Blah. So whatcha think? Oh and direct quotes from 'Dragons Call.'