Chapter 11: Merlin Thinks Things Over
"Mordred sent me an email this morning," Merlin said.
They were waiting to board their flight, watching the milling crowds and general bustle of Kennedy Airport. As they waited for their section of the airplane to be called, they double checked their tickets and passports, and looked to make certain their hand luggage was properly zipped and fastened. They were flying Business Class, a compromise of sorts, since Arthur refused to sit in the cramped quarters of Coach, and Merlin insisted that First Class was a waste of money.
"He sent me one last night," Arthur mumbled, rubbing his eyes. "Said he hoped we had a pleasant time in Ealdor, and that he was looking forward to seeing us. He mentioned his secret present again, but wouldn't tell me what it is. Damn it all to hell! I forgot to pack the choc bars!"
"I packed them," Merlin replied in a self-congratulatory voice. If they had been alone, Arthur would have swatted him over the head.
Merlin had checked, repacked, and rechecked his luggage the night before, being uncharacteristically thorough and going over everything as carefully as he would have if he were examining a medieval manuscript or wall painting for damage. He had squirreled away his gifts for his mother in his carry-on, tested the straps of his suitcase, re-read the airline regulations and looked to see that there were no bottles of anything larger than 3.4 ounces. It seemed as though he had fiddled about with these things for ages, and all the while Arthur had been sitting up in bed, becoming increasingly impatient as he waited for Merlin to bloody well finish up already, so that they could...because they wouldn't be...
And when Merlin had finally slid between the sheets, grumbling about how they would have to have an early breakfast, Arthur seized him with such vehemence that Merlin was almost taken aback. A half hour later, still trembling a little, he opened his mouth to ask why Arthur was in such a state, but Arthur had kissed him, and his hands had gentled him, so that he hadn't said anything at all.
"Seats twenty-two A through twenty-five F may board now," boomed a female voice over the sound system, and the group of passengers around them surged forward. Once past the perpetually-smiling trio of ticket checkers and flight attendants, they walked down the passageway and entered the plane, found their way to their seats, and stowed their carry-on bags in the overhead compartments.
Arthur had appropriated the window seat and was staring out of the window at the tarmac, but Merlin was perfectly happy to sit on the aisle. Catching a glimpse of the Assistant Director's grim expression, he thought some inane chatter on his part might be in order, but could think of nothing to say other than: "D'you suppose Uther will have sent spies to Ealdor to scout out what we're up to during our stay?"
"Don't be ridiculous, Merlin," Arthur said almost automatically, although he turned his head and grinned. "I didn't even tell him where we're going to be, before London."
Oddly enough, Merlin's dread of Uther and time spent in Uther's residence had faded, with the prospect of introducing Arthur to his mother and to Ealdor on the horizon. He had not gone into any detail when telling his mother about this trip; he had simply told her that he and Arthur Pendragon would be visiting for several days, and she had asked no questions. Perhaps she had already spoken with Gaius? It wasn't as though he expected Hunith to object to Arthur, or even to the nature of their relationship. She might be surprised - the last time she had seen him in a romantic situation with somebody it had been with Freya, his university girlfriend - but it was unlikely that she would disapprove in any way. In fact, he was certain that she would be happy for him, as long as he himself was happy. And he was fairly sure that she would be charmed with Arthur.
Merlin had always been a bit of an outsider in Ealdor, to which his mother had moved them days before he turned thirteen. (Why she had chosen to leave Northern Ireland she had never told him.) Nobody had treated him badly - apart from a few bullies at school, and Will had helped to end that situation - but nobody (apart from Will) had completely accepted him either. He had been too different from the other boys, thin, gawky, reserved, but clever with his hands, able to fix almost anything that broke, able to draw like Rembrandt at an early age. A reader, one of the only boys who spent hours in the local library. Odd. Unusual. There had been moments of loneliness, but on the whole he had a fondness for the place - for its nearby meadows and streams, its pretty country setting - and had enjoyed the holidays he spent there during his university years. He was looking forward to seeing it, was wondering what it would feel like to be there again, but this time not alone.
He had given the matter some attention only last night, his head pillowed on Arthur's shoulder, one hand on his chest, one leg flung over Arthur's thigh. Arthur was asleep; lately he had been falling asleep almost immediately after love, but Merlin wanted to stay awake a little longer to go over the next few days in his mind, and to enjoy Arthur when he was like this: not autocratic, not sardonic, not restless with energy, but calm and peaceful, and so beautiful to look at. He could feel the solidity of Arthur's collarbone against his face, Arthur's soft breaths lifting and fluttering the short, spiky layers of fringe above his brow.
How astonishing that he had ended up falling in love with Arthur Pendragon. The prat whose seeming sense of entitlement and outwardly arrogant air had so annoyed him when he he first came to work at the Institute. The handsome Assistant Director, worthy son of the even more famously autocratic Uther Pendragon, whose peremptory manner of ordering Merlin about had led to some of the most spectacular and loud arguments that the rest of the Institute staff had ever witnessed. What had finally drawn Merlin to him was the humanity, the essential kindness, the well-hidden feelings of inadequacy he had detected beneath the proud and aristocratic surface. He had sensed, as well, the emotional hesitancy of a young man who had grown up without the warmth and softness of a mother's touch. Arthur was (naturally) well known for his good looks, and within museum circles his bisexuality was fairly common knowledge, but it had been a while before Merlin had given that particular aspect of the Assitant Director any thought.
Merlin had never given much thought to his own sexuality either, in the years before he flew from London to New York to join the staff of the Pendragon Institute. His few relationships - all with young women - had been mostly with fellow students, relationships based as much on shared interests and shared studies as on emotional and physical need. His romance with Freya had been the longest of those, and they remained friends, still communicating periodically via email. From the first, he had admired Arthur's beauty (quite objectively) but had not been aware, at least consciously, of any attraction to him at all, until the business trip to Santa Barbara, California, that had resulted in their first intimate encounter. In the moments before they had lain down together Merlin had vacillated between desire and panic, but the touch of Arthur's hand, firm but gentle and confident, had been a revelation. There had been no turning back after that.
"No turning back now," muttered Arthur when the plane begn to move, almost as though he had read Merlin's mind.
"Right," said Merlin, eyes on the runway.
"I'd better have the car rental agreement ready," Arthur added, going through his pockets. "Oh, bloody...I packed it in the carry-on!"
"Don't lose your temper," Merlin said in what was meant to be a placating manner. "You'll have plenty of time to fish it out whilst we're standing on line for customs. Stop gnashing your pointy teeth, and calm down."
"I do not gnash my teeth," replied Arthur levelly. "So what did Mordred say in his email to you?"
Merlin shrugged a little and smiled. "Nothing new. Wants to talk about the latest conservation techniques, and whether he can learn how to do thermoluminescence testing, at his age."
What he didn't repeat was Mordred's final statement: I hope you can stay part of the family, Merlin.
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
Less than an hour into the flight, Merlin dozed off and slept the sleep of the just and innocent until Arthur nudged him awake. A flight attendant was bending over them, demanding to know whether they wanted beef or pasta for their meal.
The rest of the flight was completely uneventful. Arthur read the newspaper, drowsed for an hour, and then sat up and scribbled notes in his daily planner. Merlin paged through a magazine, watched the first half hour of the in-flight movie without using the headphones, and then amused himself by making up composite titles for future action films: "Harry Potter and the Temple of Doom," "Harry and Draco Go to White Castle,"* "Indiana Jones and the One Ring," "Kirk and Spock Meet Master and Commander," and "Rocky Loves Rambo."
De-planing was the usual hassle, with the rush of passengers to retrieve bags from the overhead bins, whilst others, in a rush to catch connecting flights, stampeded down the aisle like a herd of angry cows (or at least, that was how Arthur described them). Once through customs, luggage claimed, Arthur located their rented car and fiddled with the keys whilst Merlin hurled their suitcases into the boot.
"For pity's sake!" Arthur remonstrated. "Be careful, won't you? I have breakable things in there!"
Arthur drove well and confidently, in keeping with the way he did most things that involved hand-eye coordination. Merlin was in charge of the road map, and he found, to his grave embarrassment, that he had to keep turning his eyes away from Arthur's hands, where they gripped the steering wheel.
"Don't look so anxious, Merlin," Arthur sighed after navigating and finally escaping the dense traffic around the airport, and easing their car onto the motorway. "I'm sure the Institute will survive a couple of weeks without us."
"Do you think?" Merlin replied, smiling. "Will said we wouldn't recognize the place when we got back. And what will all of those poor little schoolgirls do, the ones who come to the Institute to take notes for their art history classes, but are really there to catch a glimpse of the fabled Mr Pendragon?"
"They won't miss a thing," Arthur stated flatly. "They can look at Lance instead. I mean, he's ridiculously good looking, and quite puts me in the shade."
"That's a matter of opinion," his conservator murmured, turning faintly pink along the cheekbones. "I imagine half the girls of Ealdor will be lined up at your bedroom door tomorrow night."
"Really?" asked Arthur, entertained by the thought. "Only half? Where will the other half be?"
"Well, they won't be at my door," Merlin said adamantly. "They'll be: 'Oh look, it's that Merlin with the funny ears, back from the States, oh, and look at who he's brought with him, some gorgeous blond bloke who looks like he could take on every single one of us and still have energy for more, and oh, did you know he's the son of U-'"
"That'll do, Merlin, I need you to watch for the exit," growled Arthur sternly, but his lips were twitching. "By the way, what was it you had to pay Ellie extra for, this morning? I left instructions about everything, and she'll clean once a week while we're away, and throw out whatever's left in the refrigerator."
"I was paying her for sewing buttons back on my shirts," Merlin replied affably. "She offered to do it for free, but I said no, of course not. She's been puzzled about all the buttons she keeps picking up off the floor, and I couldn't exactly explain to her how they got there in the first place."
"No?" Arthur asked, eyes on the road.
"No," said Merlin decidedly. "I could hardly say, 'Well, Ellie, you see, your employer, Mr Pendragon, is so impatient to get his hands on my...erm, on me that he can't be bothered with a few buttons.'"
"I'm impatient?" Arthur was tapping his fingers on the wheel.
"Patience isn't one of your virtues, exactly," said Merlin, and then realized that he should have kept his mouth shut. Arthur's eyes were suddenly sparkling with deviltry, and he was grinning widely. If there was anything Arthur could not resist it was a challenge, and Merlin had just offered him one.
"Oh?" murmured Arthur, his voice as smooth as cream. "Is that so, Mer-lin? Wait until we have a little time alone together, with no interruptions, and we'll see whether patience is one of my virtues or not."
Merlin swallowed and then looked at the road map. "It's the next exit," he announced, glad for a change of subject, because Arthur's expression was becoming positively smug. "After that, you drive straight for an hour. If you're not too tired, we can make it to Ealdor in time for dinner."
I don't know whether the comedy film, "Harold and Kumar Go to White Castle," made it overseas, but it was very popular in the States. For those not familiar with American fast food, White Castle is a chain of very inexpensive burger restaurants, famous for their small, square burger patties cooked with chopped onion.