Well guess who has had this chapter sitting on ColourNote on their phone since January? Whoops! Here it is, hastily edited and hopefully readable. It's one of those chapters that get written when I can't sleep


Merlin hadn't really thought about how much he needed a shower, until he looked down and saw all the grime swirling around the water at his feet and away down the drain; nor had he thought about how much a simple shower could re-boost his sinking spirits, until he stepped out and stood on the shower mat, and caught his grin in the mirror. Towelling off, he shrugged on the underwear and dressing-gown that Launcelot had handed him after offering to wash his clothes, leaving the towel around his shoulders as he wandered downstairs. The house was quite small, and felt barely lived in. The few photographs that hung in the hallway were old pictures from, Merlin assumed, his parent's honeymoon, and none of them showed Launcelot. In the kitchen, the stove was covered in a very fine layer of dust, but the microwave looked well-used and a quick check confirmed Merlin's suspicions when he found the bin full of microwaveable dinner packets. In the lounge at the back of the house he could look through the window to see the garden, which was a sorry patch of lawn no longer looked after. Everywhere was a mess, but the mess looked like someone had started to clear up and then been distracted, or found something better to do. In short, the whole house felt abandoned despite the obvious evidence of a lonely teenage college student living in it.

"Sorry, I know it's a tip..." Launcelot's voice was speaking, drifting through to the lounge from the kitchen. He was clattering around, making more noise than Merlin felt was needed; it didn't take a genius to realise that Launcelot was trying to fill the emptiness in the house. Merlin had wandered to a bookshelf in the corner full of romantic thrillers and a few mindless crime comedies, and was browsing through to see if anything would get his attention. He let his fingers trail over the slightly dusty, still new-looking spines.

"It's alright," he responded brightly as he went and rejoined Launcelot in the kitchen, hovering by the doorway and watching as Launcelot reheated something in a tupperwear bowl. "Just you?Where're your parents?"

"Have a seat," Launcelot said encouragingly, turning and waving one hand vaguely in the direction of the kitchen table. He had frozen for just a moment at the mention of his parents, but the mistake had only lasted the amount of time it took for Launcelot to breathe in sharply, and then his composure was regained and he was back to playing the role of cheerful host. "Mum and dad are away for business with the Pendragon Company, they'll be gone for weeks,"

"And they just... left you?" Merlin frowned as he sat down, mentally trawling through the dust of centuries until he dragged up a memory of Launcelot, framed in the light from a window with a fond smile on his face as he spoke of his parents with awe and respect, but most of all- with love; now there was a shadow in his eyes and a curdled bitterness tainting his words. It did not sit right with Merlin, who had envisioned great people: a mother of strength and courage not unlike his own, and a father in the spitting image of Launcelot himself. Instead, he was seeing faceless, cruel shadows who neglected their son. Well, who could tell what this new century would bring?

"Yes. It's no big deal,"

"Really?"

"Really. Now here," Launcelot placed the bowl down in front of Merlin, revealing some sort of soup and brown bread. "I think Gwen's family really pity me or something because they keep making me food," he chuckled lowly, and once again Merlin was struck by the familiarity with which the former knight was addressing him; it also warmed him through to his heart to know that Gwen had been looking out for Launcelot. He grinned to express a gratitude and a joy beyond any words he knew, and immediately began to eat. Launcelot sat down opposite him, mirth sparkling in his eyes as he watched Merlin inhale the soup and bread too fast to even appreciate it, slender fingers curled around the warmth of the bowl tightly, the hunch in his shoulders that of a predator who has found prey in the dead of winter. Once Merlin was finished and leaning back happily in his chair, Launcelot felt the urge to speak again- "And what about you?"

"Me?Oh, I... I'm no matter," Merlin shook his head. "Really, not interesting at all,"

"I'm interested,"

"Nah, you wouldn't be,"

"I'm interested in why you're on the streets,"

"It's a long story,"

"We have all evening,"

"I..." Merlin puffed out his cheeks in defeat, groaning softly. "Fine. I'm on the streets because... I lost someone very close to me, and I... I-I... well, I made some bad choices, and I had nobody else to turn to once all was said and done," it took every ounce of conviction that Merlin possessed not to show the inferno of emotions he felt in his face, and it pained him physically to be silently including Launcelot in the unspoken list of people he had lost. Launcelot, who was watching him attentively.

"I'm sorry,"

"Don't be... Anyway, thank you for the meal, and for the shower. I should be going," he got up, the peace that had slowly been easing his mind shattered, and a feeling of damp coldness creeping up his spine. "It was all my fault," he whispered as he headed for the door.

"Where are you going?" Launcelot called after him. If he had heard Merlin's cracked whisper he showed no sign of it, which only strengthened Merlin's gratitude.

"Well, I can't stay. You'll see me around town," he smiled.

"Nonsense! Come on, I have a settee, and more room than I care to think about- not to mention, plenty of solitude and more food than I can eat alone,"

"Heh... you're not being serious?"

"Very serious,"

"You're offering me a place to stay?"

"Yes!" Launcelot got to his feet and held out a hand for him to shake. "Welcome to my humble home,"

Merlin could only stare at the offered hand for a moment, amazed, and then he took it firmly. He stared into Launcelot's kind, unlined, younger than he remembered face, and sensed that Launcelot was doing this on more than a friendship of just a few hours, but on a sensation of mutual companionship and brotherhood that was older than millennia


Late morning had rolled around far sooner than Launcelot had expected, and he was suprised when the burnt umber light washed over his desk and study notes; rousing him from the stupor he had been descending into. Yawning, he closed his book- a careworn copy of old English folktales-and put aside his pen. He listened to the deep quiet of the house, reflecting on the fact that his new housemate was still asleep- and so he should be allowed to remain, especially after sleeping rough for however many nights. Launcelot could understand that those nights would have been awful, and he was sorry for whatever dreadful things Merlin had been through. The company was more welcome than he wished to admit.

Slowly, avoiding the steps that creaked and the treads that groaned, Launcelot made his way down to the kitchen and boiled the kettle. He grinned in satisfaction when he checked his watch, starting to whistle happily to himself before stopping and remembering the sleeping Merlin. In just under an hour he would be able to put aside all of his papers and notes, and head out to meet up with all his friends in the abandoned warehouse, to enjoy the daylight while it lasted.

"You look happy," Merlin wandered in, running his hands through his hair sleepily.

"You look much better than you did last night," Launcelot shot back.

"I have your oddly comfortable sofa to thank for that," Merlin nodded, flashing a grin.

"I'm just making coffee. Anyway, I'll be going out in a while so... feel free to make yourself comfort- wait, no, actually," Launcelot broke off, staring into the middle distance with the kettle tipped dangerously close to the pouring position for a moment as a new idea crossed his mind. Uneasy, Merlin watched Launcelot as he put the kettle safely down and then turned back to face him. His arms were folded across his chest as he leaned casually against the counter.

"So, you got off on the wrong foot with Arthur and everyone else... I think you should come with me,"

"Come with you? Wait- you're meeting up with them?"

"Yes. We have a clubhouse, of sorts- an abandoned warehouse really- and we meet there at weekends. I think you ought to come, you seem like a nice guy Merlin, and so's Arthur once you get to know him,"

"I know," Merlin muttered to himself. He had turned his face from Launcelot's, afraid of betraying the annoyance and humour he was feeling at hearing Arthur spoken about like he was a stranger to him. Out of everything Merlin had battled with- loneliness being the worst- he wasn't sure anything would be as difficult to tackle as pretending to be a stranger to his best friend. Clearing his throat, he bites his bottom lip and nods.

"Sure. Okay, thank you for the offer, I—"

"You're not allowed to say 'I'll think about it',"

"Fiiiine," he groaned in exasperation. "Fine, I'll come," Merlin swallowed, and Launcelot smiled.