His not-so-insubstantial bank account depleted of an incredible amount of money later, Arthur had a newspaper wrapped antique lamp in the hands as he walked back towards his apartment- newspaper wrapped! A million dollars and the seller didn't even bother with a fancy box! This made the top of the list of stupid-things-Arthur-had-done-in-his-life, and there were some really stupid things on that list. This was worse than things like sleeping with Sophia when he knew she was after his father's money, and going skinny dipping into a lake on a college trip with Gwaine around, and ending up walking back to the hotel naked because Gwaine had apparently still been a 10 year old kid, who thought letting people's clothes wash away in the river was the height of good pranks.

He couldn't bring himself to regret it though, not with the wrapped bundle in his hands, somehow warm, as though the antique was emitting a low level heat, and perfect.

Wanting to be back in his apartment as soon as possible, he quickened his steps, and wondered what he was going to do with the lamp once he got home. Unsurprisingly, his mind drew a blank. Nevertheless, he hastened to his apartment building, rushed to the elevator and inserted the key to the second highest level - that was his apartment, posh, but less posh than that top floor, he had always insisted. Not that he couldn't afford the top floor; he just wanted to appear humble-to a degree.

Once he stepped out through the elevator, and dropped the key on the nearby table, he walked towards his living room. It the open plan apartment, which meant it was just a few steps from the elevator door to the couch. He gingerly settled down on the couch, carefully placing the lamp on the table in front of him.

After that, he let out a loud groan, and collapsed backwards into his very comfortable sofa, resting his head on the back rest, and put both of his palms on his face.

Argh! He was hopeless.

He stayed like that for a few minutes, eyes closed, and marveled at his whole new level of patheticness, but then the anticipation became too much to stall any longer. He sat upright again, and moved to unwrap the extremely valuable and most likely fake piece of antique crap he had bought.

He was wrong. It was beautiful!

The newspaper opened, and the lamp was lying in the middle of the mess, like the most stunning thing Arthur had ever seen, and he couldn't look away. Compulsively, his hand moved forward cupping the thing in his hands, and raised it to his face level, looking at the engravings. They seemed to be some sort of language, some words that he could not read, nevertheless his eyes roamed on them, fascinated. He tilted it this way and that way, letting the artificial light catch on it at different angles, mesmerized by the way the lamp reflected light. Also, he had been right about the lamp emitting heat too, because even though his apartment was internally cooled, the metal in his hand was warm to touch.

He placed it back on the table, after pushing away the newspaper wrapping to fall messily on the floor, and moved back and admired it. To anyone else, it might have been an old metal lamp, dusty and unpolished, but to Arthur, it felt like something more. Something magical, holding secrets, of both past and future. Something that belonged to him, and not just because he had paid for it. Something that Arthur had been waiting for all of his life.

Feeling like he needed a cup of tea, or ten, if he had started waxing poetic about a freaking lamp, he got up and stepped into a kitchen to put the kettle on boil. His mind was not any more organized when he came back with the tea, than it was when he had left to make it, so he just sank down into the couch and turned on the TV. There were some boring politicians debating about things that Arthur was not interested in, but the background noise was pleasant. As Arthur sipped his tea, his left hand absently traced the engravings on the lamp. His thumb moved on it, back and forth, once, twice... thrice.

"Thank Fuck." A voice suddenly said, and Arthur was startled enough that the cup fell from his hand, the hot tea scalding his hand as the cup shattered on the tiled floor.

"Ow." He exclaimed, shaking his hand, knowing it might blister, if the way his skin had turned angry red was any indication, and then looked up to see the reason he was so startled.

And stared.

And stared some more.

Then raised his hand that wasn't burned, and slapped himself across the face.

"Yes. Yes. OH MY GOD! AM I LOSING MY MIND? OR AM I DREAMING? THIS CAN'T BE REAL! Can we for ONCE skip the panic, and accept that I am real? Because seriously, this is getting downright insulting."

Arthur gaped some more, his burn forgotten while his brain screeched to an absolute halt. There was a Genie- an honest to God, Aladdin's Genie, together with the smoke like lower half, and the semi transparent consistency in front of him. The difference was, it wasn't blue, or barrel chested, or old with a beard. It was green, with a mop of black hair, sharp blue eyes, wearing a red muffler around his neck, and a couple of golden bracelets on his wrists. It looked remarkably like a human, except the fact that it's lower half was smoke, it was semi transparent, and it came out of a fucking lamp.

"Helloooo. Anybody there?" A hand waved in front of his eyes, and he jerked back, practically shrinking into the sofa.

"I am..."

"Not mad."

"Then..."

"No... Not dreaming either."

"Then probably..."

"No Arthur, you aren't dead either."

"How do you know my name?" That was the first thing Arthur had said that came out remotely like a full sentence, without stuttering.

"I heard you talk to the witch, of course."

"Witch?"

"Are you like... slow? Most rich and pretty people are, so I won't judge you. Oh and you are also blond, so that's understandable. Yes Witch. She doesn't have a name. Everyone just calls her that, which, you would think is a dead give away, but nobody really cottons on to the fact that, you know? She is actually a witch. . You bought me from her... thanks for that by the way, I was extremely sick of that shop, and I have to say the change of location is much appreciated." The green creature wolf whistled as he said the last thing, his eyes roaming appreciatively as he surveyed his surroundings.

"Are you... Genie?" Arthur croaked, because that's the only thing he could think of.

"Genie? What's that? No. I am Merlin. Nice to meet you." The Genie extended his hands, a smile on his face, nodding at Arthur to shake his hand, while Arthur stared dumbstruck.

"Come on... I won't bite. Just a handshake." Arthur extended his hand on autopilot, and Merlin clasped it in both of his, giving it an enthusiastic shake.

"Very nice to meet you, my new master." He said in a very fake obedient tone.

As if touching the Genie was what was needed to make Arthur believe that this was not a dream or an insane hallucination, he said in an awed tone,

"You are real."

"I am so glad we established that." Genie- what did he say his name was... Merlin, that's right, Merlin- said in a cheerful voice.

"There is a genie in my antique lamp."

"I told you... Merlin. Not Genie. Please don't make me repeat myself."

"No, what I mean is, you are a magical... Genie... "

"Oh. You mean it like that! No, you got it all wrong again. I am a warlock which is like, so much better than a Genie. I am the strongest of my kind, blah blah, please don't ask me how I ended up being trapped in a lamp and sold like a prostitute by a witch, because that's a long and embarrassing story that I don't even know if I remember the correct version of anymore."

"What the fuck." Arthur muttered to himself, making Merlin grin.

Suddenly realizing his hand was throbbing; he glanced at it, and then looked at the broken cup in despair, giving Merlin an accusatory glance.

"Why are you giving me the stink eye? It's not my fault you have a weak heart." He shrugged, which looked just ridiculous on someone whose body was smoke from waist down.

"I am sorry I wasn't expecting a freaking GENIE to come out of my lamp." Arthur thought that if he was going crazy anyway, it would make sense to go all out. That's why he continued on to say, "So it is your fault. It's only right that you fix it... so why don't you?" And extended his hand forward.

Merlin had the gall to look away, sheepish, saying "I can't do that... Sorry." He sounded somewhat sad when he said so, but Arthur was having none of that.

"What? What kind of a genie," Merlin glared, so Arthur corrected, "Warlock! What kind of warlock are you that you can't even heal a burnt hand?"

"The thing is..."

"Let me tell you what kind... the absolutely useless kind." Arthur finished, cutting in before Merlin could explain himself. Then he got up, ignoring the offended warlock, and went towards the kitchen to hold his hand under water.

It came as a surprise when Merlin followed, a wisp of smoke trailing all the way back to the lamp, muttering,

"Could you be any more of a prat?"

"Excuse me?" His eyebrows climbed up at the insult.

"Prat! I called you a prat."

"I distinctly remember you also called me Master a couple of minutes ago."

"Yes. Let me correct myself. You are a Master Prat."

"Worst slave genie ever! Just my luck." Arthur looked at the ceiling and complained to the skies.

"Shut up! Now do you want to know how awesome I am?"

"No... Not really."

"Trust me... You want to know."

"No! Trust me Merlin. I really really don't. You are probably a hallucination of my sleep deprived mind anyway and would be gone when I wake up..."

"Yes you do! And No I am not. Not a hallucination and am not going anywhere either... I am sorry but you're stuck with me. Until..."

"Next thing I know you would be telling me I get three wishes, and I can ask for anything I want... and would be warning me to use them wisely. God! My exhausted brain, or subconscious, or whatever, is seriously messed up."

The ringing silence following his sentence made the sound of tap water grate on Arthur's nerves. He turned the tap off and dried his hands with the dish towel. Then, full of trepidation, he turned towards his hallucination, and gaped.

"Seriously?"His voice was an embarrassing squeak by now.

"Uh-" to his credit, Merlin looked extremely wrong footed, and there was an exaggerated green tinge on his cheeks that Arthur could swear was a blush.

"That's fucked up!"

"You think I don't know that? You think I like the fact that I only get to do three spells every couple of decades and am basically impotent the rest of the time. Trust me, it sucks." Merlin sounded frustrated and forlorn, and he played with the gold bracelets on his wrists, tugging at the one in his right hand with his left, as if trying to take them off, but not really making an effort.

He isn't even real, Arthur told himself again, and proceeded to ignore the hidden hurt in Merlin's tone.

"Okay. Three wishes aren't so bad. First one... heal my hand."

Extending his hand in imitation of just a few minutes ago, and looked at the warlock expectantly. That caused the look of hurt from said warlock's face to evaporate, only to be replaced by one of irritation.

"No."

"What do you mean no?"

"I mean no, Master. I won't spend my rare three chances of being allowed to do magic on something that's going to heal in a couple of days. Not happening." Saying that, he folded his arms in front of him, as if challenging Arthur to defy him.

"I knew it. .Ever." Arthur said in smug satisfaction.

"Oi, Not a Genie. Warlock."

"Whatever. I am too tired for this. I am going to sleep, and you can do whatever it is you do when you are in the lamp." Without bothering to look at Merlin and wait for a reaction, he rubbed his hands on his face, and stepped away.

Remembering something, Arthur turned back to look and Merlin and said, "Not that I am expecting you to be here when I wake up, but in the slight chance this isn't a fucked up dream... Do me a favor," he waited for Merlin to nod before saying, "Never call me Master again."

"So what do you suppose I should call you?"

"Sir would work."

"Sire."

"No. Sir. As in boss. Everyone at work calls me that, and it doesn't feel as creepy as Master."

"Sire it is." Merlin said cheekily, and sighing, Arthur turned away again.

"By the way, just saying, this went well."

"You call this well?" Arthur said incredulously, without turning back.

"Yeah. You have no idea how badly it could've gone. You could've thrown the lamp in the fireplace, or buried it in the ground, or thrown it in the sea or a well, lost for ages until the Witch could find me again. She always does. Trust me, it has happened before. More often than I care to count." Even without looking at him, Arthur could tell he had just shuddered exaggeratedly.

"Ah well... I am a generous master." Arthur smiled despite himself.

"Much obliged Your highness." And now he was bowing. Arthur could see the movement out of the corner of his eye, and shaking his head in exasperation, he reached for his bedroom handle.

Before entering his room, he couldn't help throwing back a last comment,

"Night Merlin. Don't be real in the morning."

"Night Prat. I will make sure you are thoroughly disappointed."

A/N: I was planning on writing like a total 3-5k words for this story but it kind of got a life of it's own and now I have no idea if I am writing this, or if it's writing itself. So it's probably going to be a 25 or 30k words monster. I love all of you people who leave kudos and comment. Thank you.