Unsurprisingly, despite having expressly told Merlin that they weren't going out with the intent to get laid, Arthur attracts the attention of three fairly attractive and definitely drunk girls about their age and brings them over with him to sit at their table. Merlin suddenly feels very far away from it all.
"Merlin, this is Jenny, that's Natasha and this is Kate," Arthur announces, gesturing towards each girl as he says her name. Each one does a funny little wave when she hears her name and Merlin wants to bang his head into a wall. "That's Gwaine, and the bloke next to him in the daft hat is Merlin."
Great, Merlin thinks. It's not even his bloody hat and it's already become an integral part of his post-diagnosis identity. One of the girls – Jenny, he thinks – eyes him curiously, as though he's a specimen in a museum she doesn't quite understand.
"I don't usually wear it," he says carefully. He looks at Arthur, who nods for him to continue. Merlin takes a deep breath. Can he really do this? Isn't using his illness to attempt to score a little… well, karmaically risky? Won't it hurt his chances of beating it if he twists it to his advantage? He's already only got a 50% chance of survival. He really can't afford to change those odds in cancer's favour. "I had a bad haircut," he finishes lamely.
Arthur rolls his eyes, reclines in the booth and removes his arm from around Kate's waist.
"Merlin, come and buy me a drink," he says. "In honour of your haircut."
He stands up and walks a few feet away. Merlin doesn't follow. He has a pretty good idea of what's going to happen, and he doesn't think that he's going to end up buying Arthur a drink. Arthur never accepts drinks from anyone. He says it's only fair that he buys his own – and every round thereafter – as he is the heir of a worldwide business conglomerate and therefore fairly well-off.
Arthur leans down and grabs Merlin by the wrist, pulling him up.
"Come on, they'll still be here when we get back," Arthur winks, looking at the girls, who all actually giggle. Merlin wants to vomit, and for once it's not because of the chemo.
Reluctantly, he follows Arthur to the bar. When they reach it, Arthur spins around to look at him, grabbing him by the shoulders and shaking him.
"What are you playing at?" he hisses. "Play the cancer card! There's no point in having it in your deck if you don't take it out for a spin every now and then!"
Merlin shakes him off, angrily.
"I didn't put it in my fucking deck," he says. "In case you forgot, it was sort of out of my control. And you just used a seriously mixed metaphor."
To Arthur's credit, he does look genuinely remorseful for a few seconds before he rolls his eyes and cups Merlin's face in his hands.
"Merlin," he says, and Merlin is very confused right now. "You have got to make the best of a bad situation, and cancer is pretty much the worst situation I can think of. Apart from not knowing me, of course. But that doesn't apply to you, and it isn't going to any time soon. I'm not going to force you to stick your penis somewhere you don't want to stick it, but you have to live a little, mate."
Merlin pushes Arthur's hands away from his face and folds his arms. Sometimes he forgets how sentimental Arthur can get after he's had a few pints.
It's the last words that hit Merlin hard. Live a little. Arthur hadn't said it, but the 'while you can' was implied. He sighs and smiles resignedly.
"You do talk such shite when you're drunk," he says. "And if you were intending to get me laid, you could have found me someone of my preferred gender."
Arthur flushes a little.
"The cancer line won't work on a guy as well," he says. "I dunno, I think we're less sentimental about these things. And poor old Gwaine, as a totem of heterosexuality, would probably feel a bit awkward if I brought over three strapping young men."
Merlin can't help but laugh at that.
"This is such a bad idea," he says. Arthur reaches out and straightens Merlin's awful rainbow beanie.
"I am always right," he says, eventually. "Now, are you really planning on buying me a drink? Because, no offence Merlin, your wallet is a barren wasteland compared to mine."
Surprisingly, Arthur is completely right. As soon as Merlin removes his hat – wool is itchy on bare skin, he justifies – the pitying looks he receives from the three girls are quickly replaced by warm hands being placed over his own.
"What are his odds?" Jenny asks Arthur, and Merlin wants to shout out 'I'm dying, not deaf' but manages to hold his tongue. Arthur sighs.
"Fifty / fifty," he responds. Jenny's eyes widen and she looks to Merlin, ostensibly for clarification. He nods, and she takes his hand in hers.
"Oh, love," she says, and Arthur mouths 'you're in there'.
He is. He definitely is. Only half an hour later, she's asking Merlin to walk her home. He looks to Arthur for confirmation that he should be doing this, and Arthur takes him aside.
"Go for it," he says. "I know she's not your usual… type. Best I could do on short notice, I'm afraid. Just close your eyes and think of England."
Merlin shoves him.
"I'm Welsh," he mutters. God, he's nervous. He hasn't slept with anyone in over six months, and he can't even remember the last time he slept with a woman. He hopes he can still remember how everything works. He hopes things still do work. Will the chemo affect things? Why is he doing this again? This is the worst decision he's ever made, and he once bet on a horse with three legs. "Arthur, why am I doing this?"
Arthur shrugs.
"It's what people do," he says. "Don't know why. Nothing wrong with a bit of hedonism every now and then, though, and you've bloody earned it."
Merlin nods slowly.
"OK," he says. "You're right. I just should just enjoy myself. Lighten up. Right?"
Arthur beams.
"Right," he says. He leans closer, conspiratorially. "And don't worry. Your secret's safe with me."
Merlin furrows his brow, confused.
"What secret?" he asks.
Arthur pulls away and regards him with a look that clearly says it's the most obvious thing in the world.
"That you're going to make it," he answers.
The walk to Jenny's flat is blissfully short, spent in a mixture of awkward silence and small talk. She fumbles with her keys while she's trying to unlock the front door and Merlin can't help but feel a pang of sympathy; she's as nervous as he is. In a way, that makes this easier. He can't imagine how it would feel if she were confident and he let her down. At least this way there are no real expectations to fail to meet.
She kisses him as soon as they're inside, before she's even closed the door, and Merlin's first instinct is to panic and push her away, which he almost does before remembering that this is why he's here and starts to kiss back. He isn't feeling anything. He has no idea how this is going to work. She pulls away, blushing.
"You are up for this, right?" she asks, biting the fingernail on her left index finger, a gesture Merlin finds oddly endearing. He doesn't think he should find his potential one-night stand endearing. Alluring, maybe.
He realise he hasn't responded, and nods.
"Yeah," he says, gruffly. She smiles nervously and kisses him again, this time cupping his face in hers. Merlin remembers when Arthur did that at the bar and reflexively smiles; Jenny clearly feels him smiling into the kiss and thinks this means he's responding to her as she starts kissing him with more intent. Merlin suddenly feels trapped with her hands on him and pulls away, slightly breathless.
"Are you OK?" she asks, concerned. "Do you need something? A glass of water, maybe?"
He shakes his head. He can do this. He just has to not think about it.
"I'm fine," he replies. "Just… y'know, side effects and all that. This might take a bit longer than you're used to."
She smiles again.
"I'm OK with that," she says, and makes to kiss him again. He lets her, briefly, before pulling away again. She doesn't say anything but he can see she's getting frustrated.
"Look, maybe it would help if we… took our clothes off," Merlin ad-libs, immediately regretting it. He's aware he probably sounds very odd. Even he knows that the disrobing is usually a process that occurs alongside the touching. She looks slightly bemused, but nods, pulling her dress off with ease. Merlin looks at her, standing in front of him in just her underwear, and urges himself to feel something, anything, towards her.
He's in too deep to turn back now. He kicks off his shoes and pulls his t-shirt over his head, acutely aware that he's not exactly in great shape after a few weeks of treatment and probably looks like he's on some kind of starvation diet. Jenny has taken off her bra and Merlin gulps as he undoes his belt and clumsily steps out of his trousers. He pulls off his boxers at the same time as Jenny takes off her briefs, and now here they are and Merlin has no idea what the hell he's doing.
Jenny moves closer. Merlin shuts his eyes. He can do this. He can feel her leaning in to kiss him and her lips are almost upon his when he has a realisation. He opens his eyes.
"Sorry, did you want me to take my socks off, or…"
Jenny leaps back and puts her face in her hands.
"I can't do this," she says. "I'm sorry, but I really can't. And it's not because of… you know, that you're ill or anything like that, but I get the impression you don't really want to."
If she starts crying, Merlin will probably follow suit. He picks up her dress and awkwardly hands it to her. She takes it and holds it in front of herself, preserving her modesty. Merlin puts his boxers back on.
"I'm sorry," he mutters. She looks up and takes his hand.
"It's OK," she says. "I can see you're not feeling great about all this. I'm not going to kick you out, you know. You're welcome to kip on my couch or something if you don't think it would be too awkward."
Merlin wishes he could have been attracted to Jenny instead of all the bastards he's fancied in the past.
"It's all right, I only live a few miles away," he says. "I'll be fine. I'm really sorry. I didn't mean for it to happen like this. I thought it would be OK."
She smiles, but it looks slightly bitter, and puts her dress back on.
"You can't help it if you're gay," she says, and where did that come from?
Merlin stutters.
"I'm - "
"Sorry, yes, I know. But it's not me you want to be sleeping with, is it? It's your friend from the pub."
She picks up his t-shirt and gives it to him, and he puts it on, trying to work out what she's saying.
"Gwaine?" he asks. She raises an eyebrow.
"No, not him. The blonde one," she clarifies, and Merlin can't help the disbelieving laugh that escapes.
"Christ, no, no," he manages to say. "I mean, you're right, I am gay – sorry, by the way, I thought I could do this somehow, it was stupid in hindsight – but Jesus, no. Not Arthur. Never Arthur."
She raises an eyebrow.
"Merlin," she says, and it's the first time she's used his name. Despite the fact that they've seen each other naked, it feels strangely intimate. "Without meaning to be crude, you really don't have a lot of time to figure out that what you've just said is complete bollocks. I suggest you start now."
He puts his trousers on and steps into his shoes. He doesn't really know how to reply. He could tell her that she's talking shit, of course, because she is, but he doesn't want to be rude to her when she's trying to help and he's just ruined her night.
"Thanks," he mumbles.
"Any time," she says, opening the front door for him. "Goodnight, Merlin."
"Bye," he says, and begins to head away from the most awkward sexual encounter of his life. He feels her grab his arm and he turns around.
"I meant it, you know," she says. "Tell him. Before it's too late."
Merlin nods wordlessly, too tired to correct her, and she smiles at him. He walks down the driveway and feels her watching him until he's turned the corner.
He wonders if Arthur had any more luck.
