Chapter 25: How to Say Something Without Saying It
Arthur's young half brother, Mordred, was a puzzle to nearly everyone at the Institute. It was noticed that he almost never smiled. He was not unfriendly per se, but he was clearly the most withdrawn child they had ever met. In addition, he was probably the most cerebral child they had ever encountered. Mordred spoke to no one--with the exception of his family, and now Merlin--but when he wasn't otherwise occupied, his face was buried in a textbook of university-level physics.
Merlin was perfectly happy to show Mordred around the Conservation studios, prior to Uther's inspection, and when he settled down to work on a torn manuscript he allowed Mordred to pull up a stool and watch him. Mordred sat very quietly, his legs dangling, and once every five minutes or so he asked what Merlin found to be extremely astute questions about technique and working methods. After about an hour of this they took a break, and when Arthur and Morgana came downstairs to fetch him, they found Mordred and Merlin seated at an empty worktable, teaching each other card tricks.
"What in bloody--I mean what on earth are you two doing?" Arthur demanded, staring in astonishment. "Card tricks?"
He was still chafing from the odd look Uther had given him the night before, upon the discovery of all the lactose-free milk in his refrigerator.
"Oh--some friends of mine stopped in for dinner and one of them is, uh, lactose-sensitive." he had mumbled rather lamely.
"Is that why you felt compelled to buy three quarts of the stuff?" Uther had asked with an alarmingly Gaius-like hitch of his eyebrows.
And now his lactose-intolerant conservator was teaching his half-brother card tricks, as calmly as if Uther wasn't due to arrive in the studio in approximately five minutes.
Two pairs of intense blue eyes were raised to his.
"We've already been through the disappearing coin trick," Merlin explained. "Mordred's a natural."
"Merlin showed me how to mend a manuscript," Mordred said solemnly in his piping treble.
The Assistant Director and Morgana exchanged glances of frustration, but they managed to coax Mordred to accompany them upstairs (with the promise of chocolate chip scones in the staff lounge), just in time before Uther made his appearance in the Paper Conservation studio.
"What a relief!" Morgana murmured to Arthur as they whisked Mordred off. "It's nice to know that infant geniuses are not immune to the charms of choc chip scones."
Merlin had laid out a number of recently cleaned and stabilized manuscripts on the worktable, and had just launched into an explanation of the methods he had used when the Senior Director interrupted him by placing a hand on his arm with what would have been a genial smile, if it weren't for the sharp expression in his eyes that went with it.
"Well, young man," boomed Uther, and Merlin nearly winced. "It seems you're living up to your reputation for excellent work. I trust you like it here. So tell me...how have you found it, working for Arthur?"
"Oh," Merlin said nonchalantly. "We get on well. Scarcely any disagreement on the subject of conservation methods. He's an excellent Director. I mean, Assistant Director. If you'd care to look over here, sir, I can show you the very first piece he gave me to work on. Gaius thinks the treatment was quite successful."
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For the rest of the week, the staff of the Pendragon Institute tiptoed softly around the visiting Director. Uther seemed happy with the way things were going at the museum, and he said as much to his son and his stepdaughter. What neither appreciated--although they had been expecting it--were Uther's increasingly insistent questions about their activities outside of the workplace. He wished to know, in other words, about their social lives, and with whom they were spending their free time. Arthur didn't know if this was because visions of grandchildren were beginning to dance in his head, or because he had certain wealthy, socially prominent spouses in mind for himself and Morgana.
"I really don't think I can take these interrogations much longer," he confessed to Morgana one morning in his office.
"Oh really?" his stepsister replied with a touch of sarcasm. "Are you telling me that you're on the verge of breaking down and confessing to daddy that I've been having candlelit dinners with someone from the Security Department? And that you've been f--that you've been sharing your be--your weekends with a junior conservator who also happens to be an employee, and not wealthy, and a man?"
"Candlelit dinners now, is it?" Arthur grumbled. "You are moving along."
"Oh don't be so bloody insensitive," Morgana hissed. "What's wrong with lovely dinners in a charming restaurant? I'm sure Merlin is absolutely yummy and delicious in more ways than one, so don't talk to me about what I've been eating--"
"Morgana!" Arthur exploded. "Must you always be so vulgar?"
"Only when it's fun," she replied airily. "Now Arthur dear, if Uther asks, I've only been dating lawyers, brain surgeons, and corporate CEOs. And if he asks me about you, I'll say you've met some debutante with a revoltingly rich daddy who survived the collapse of the big banks."
"Oh very funny," said Arthur sulkily as he checked his computer for in-house messages. (Bloody hell! Nothing from Merlin.) "Who's going with him to dinner tonight, you or me?"
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What Arthur didn't know, but would have touched him immensely if he had known, was that the staff of the Institute had resolutely closed ranks against Uther's attempts to obtain information about his son's private life.
"You've held several benefit cocktail and dinner parties here this year," Uther said to Gaius. "D'you happen to recall who it was Arthur brought to those events?"
"Oh," Gaius mumbled vaguely. "There have been two or three different ladies, if that's what you're asking about. Acquaintances, I think. Nobody serious."
"Special events?" Gwen asked, wrinkling her brow. "Oh, we had two exhibition openings this year. Of course Arthur usually shows up at those by himself so that he can chat with the sponsors."
"Arthur and Morgana are such workaholics," sighed old Geoffrey Monmouth. "You and I have known each other for--how many decades is it now, Uther? I'd certainly tell you if I thought either of them was showing signs of settling down with a permanent, well, partner."
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On the sixth day of Uther's stay--the next would be his last at the Institute, as he and Mordred were flying out on the morning of the eighth day--the Senior Director went from department to department in a final inspection. The Assistant Director and his curator stepsister stayed as far away from him as they could without being impolite. Both accompanied Uther and Mordred to dinner that evening, and by the time Morgana bid them goodnight and left for her own residence, it was close to nine. Back in Arthur's flat, Uther sent a sleepy Mordred off to bed, and then poured out two generous glasses of whiskey for himself and his older son.
Before his father could launch into another discussion of his and Morgana's dating habits, Arthur felt the pressing urge to escape.
"If you'll excuse me, Father," he said calmly, "Some friends from out of town are in the city, and I promised I'd meet them for a quick drink at The Griffin."
Uther clapped his son on the back, nearly knocking him over.
"Off you go then," he said heartily. "I won't wait up, of course. Jet lag's kicking in--age must be finally catching up with me. I'll see you in the morning."
Once outside, breathing in the cold December air with relief, Arthur pulled out his cellphone and rang Merlin.
Merlin's sleepy voice answered on the fifth ring.
"If you're not sleeping and you're not averse to company," Arthur said without any preamble, "I'd like to stop in for a bit. I'm in your neighborhood."
"No you're not," Merlin replied, sounding a little less sleepy. "Those are distinctly Upper East Side noises I'm hearing. Even the car motors sound like Old Money. But you're welcome to stop by if you want to."
Arthur hailed a cab and was at the door to Merlin's flat in less than half an hour.
Merlin opened the door and surveyed his Assistant Director with drowsy curiosity. Arthur looked tired; there were faint shadows under his eyes, and it struck Merlin that he might be just a little drunk. But his hands were steady as he pushed the door further open, and his walk was steady as he made his way to the small living room.
"Morgana and I have been with Father all evening," he said as if in explanation for his sudden appearance. "I needed to clear my head."
"Incidentally," he added, a moment later. "He's quite impressed with what you've done for the Institute. Gaius has been singing your praises, naturally, but your work speaks for itself."
"Oh...that's great, thanks."
"I've missed you," Arthur said curtly, staring at a spot on the wall above Merlin's left shoulder. "I wanted to say, well...that is...what I wanted to say is...God, Merlin, it's chilly in here, doesn't your landlord turn the heat on?"
It was obvious that whatever Arthur wanted to say was stuck somewhere between his brain and his vocal cords.
"Would you like a drink?" Merlin asked. Arthur shook his head.
"No drink," he said quietly. "Only you. That is...if you've no objection."
His young conservator looked at him quickly, and then looked away, but he said nothing and led the way to his tiny bedroom. Arthur's expression was a little grim, but he did not speak either. Face to face by the bed, they disrobed rapidly, without touching, and Arthur slid under the covers. Merlin switched off the light and joined him. He could feel the tension in Arthur's body and the tightness of his muscles as he pulled Merlin roughly against him.
"Merlin," Arthur moaned into the mop of black hair, and for a moment it seemed as though he was about to say something else, but then he bit his lip--Merlin could actually feel him do this--and pressed his face into the pillow instead.
Merlin was tempted to say, It's alright, Arthur, you don't have to say anything, you don't have to make promises, I don't expect it of you, but he didn't. Why rock the boat? He would not pressure Arthur in any way. He would never pressure him. So he waited until Arthur turned his head and then took Arthur's full lower lip between his own, bringing his teeth into play very softly, before letting his hands slide over those broad, well muscled shoulders and down his back.
To say that Arthur was using the moment to release pent up frustration and energy was, Merlin realized, one way of putting things. Under the circumstances, he had no opposition to letting Arthur take the upper hand, so he murmured against a rock-hard shoulder and allowed Arthur to take him, fiercely. When he was done, Merlin stroked the golden hair, and after their breathing had returned to normal he said simply, "Sleep, Arthur."
Arthur shifted so that Merlin was no longer pinned beneath him, and drew the dark, tousled head to its usual place on his shoulder.
"I've missed you," he said gruffly for the second time that night, and less than a minute later was asleep.
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On the following day--the final day of his stay in New York--Uther brought a basketful of treats to the Institute's staff meeting. He had sent a very willing Katrina out to purchase an assortment of fresh fruit, some expensive pastries, a jar of overpriced tea, raspberry jam, and some heavy whipping cream to pour in their coffee. To this was added an enormous box of chocolate truffles from Morgana, and a bottle of Devon double cream Mordred had hidden in his luggage. Even Gaius found his eyes glazing over at the sight of this array of food.
At four o'clock, senior staff were summoned to the Assistant Director's office, where the delicacies had been spread out on a low table, with china cups and saucers rather than the usual mugs. Several extra chairs had been moved in to accommodate everybody. After a (thankfully) brief speech thanking and praising the staff of the Institute, Uther invited his employees to tuck in, and for the next twenty minutes there was a vigorous rattle of plates and silverware, and the the sounds of contented munching. Relieved at the Senior Director's pending departure, people circulated, chatting with ease, whilst Morgana poured out tea and coffee and a yawning Assistant Director slouched in his desk chair.
After exchanging several words with Will and Gwen, Uther made his way towards Merlin, who was gingerly carrying coffee and a small dish of fruit back to his seat.
"Nothing in your coffee, Merlin?" the Senior Director asked, eyeing the inky contents of the junior conservator's cup. "I've brought heavy cream, but there's not much left."
"Thank you, no, I probably shouldn't," Merlin replied, setting the fragile porcelain on a side table. "I'm lactose intolerant."
"Really?" Uther said with interest, his glance shifting momentarily to his older son. "How unfortunate."
"Erm, it's not so bad, though," Merlin said uncomfortably. "There are lactose-free diary products."
"I'm glad to hear it," Uther replied genially, although his brows had drawn together.
"Merlin!" Morgana called from across the room, where she was perched on the edge of Arthur's desk. "Have you an extra copy of your report on the fresco? Mordred wants to read it, of all things."
Merlin was quite happy to escape Uther's scrutiny, and he excused himself before heading off to unearth his report from one of the many piles on his desk.
"I hope you've found everything to your satisfaction," Arthur said to his father shortly before five o'clock. "And that you've enjoyed your visit."
"Oh, indeed," the Senior Director responded, with a quizzical look that Arthur found mystifying. "It's been quite interesting. Honestly, one learns something new every day."