Disclaimer: I do not own Merlin, dammit. *Sobs*. It belongs to BBC.
Notes: So here is chapter 3 :] No obscenely long wait for this one. Not like sometimes when motivation is low. :] Thank you for your kind comments and taking the time to read let alone comment and favourite and whatever else. So yeah, big thanks to you all.
At the half-way point, and I have at least one one-shot in mind that will be connected to this (the party that is mentioned in the first part – I'm not bothering to write it into the story)
Enjoy.
The Formal Introduction
[3/6]
Uther Pendragon is a complex man and a trial to deal with at the best of times. He holds a great weight in traditions and family, upholding generations' old, and slightly elitist, beliefs and expecting the same respect for such beliefs in his two children.
This is why Arthur currently finds the Sunday dinner he has been required to attend since as long as he can remember, tenser than most other interactions he has with his father, which are usually just fleeting moments of conversation that never stray outside of the comfort zones. It isn't that he doesn't love his father, because he does and he always will, it's just he is an exceedingly difficult man to deal with and even harder to impress, or even please.
That and the bone of contention between them, a Catrina Tregor is also present and attempting to make small talk with both him and Morgana, who looks equally as unimpressed with proceedings. Now, while Arthur will quite happily excuse his fathers' sometimes insensitive behaviour as acceptable, Catrina's misdemeanours are not so easily forgiven. She hasn't done anything personally to him or even Morgana; it is just something about – a glint in the eye that Arthur cannot quite trust.
A sentiment Morgana has agreed on many occasions.
"It's pleasant news about Lancelot and Gwen, isn't it?" Catrina says, with that smile that Arthur dislikes – a forcibly polite one. The dislike is obviously mutual. Not that Arthur cares – as long as her ring finger remains empty and the Pendragon name remains unattached to her, he will be as content as he can be with his fathers' relationship. He is not naive enough to not suspect that his fathers' money might not have something to do with her 'love' for him. Cynical some say, practical says he.
"Yes," it's Morgana who replies, saving Arthur from even having to make an acknowledging grunt. "I don't think I know two people more in love."
"And you and Leon, Morgana," Catrina inquires. "How are you?" Arthur doesn't miss his fathers' slight twitch of the eyebrow – he doesn't outwardly disapprove, but he doesn't approve either. There is tension there, he doesn't truly believe Leon, a mere layman really, is good enough for his socialite, successful daughter. But he won't protest, Morgana is his little darling who can do no wrong, even if she doesn't have much care for him in return.
"We are fine, thank you," she says a little more curtly than the question warranted.
"Any thoughts on moving forward your relationship?"
"Not as of yet, we both have things we want to do." She shrugs, flashing that pleasant smile felled many a man. "We are happy as we are."
"And you Arthur, how are you?" Great, now his father decides to join in the conversation.
"I'm good, father." He smiles; nodding his head a little before taking a bigger gulp of wine then is strictly polite.
"Do you have a date for the birthday party we are throwing for your father in a few weeks?" Catrina asks, something in her tone that instantly gets Arthurs' back up. "I'm sure there is many a girl who would love the pleasure of accompanying you. Or we could organise something, Vivian or Sophia were always very fond of you."
Arthur grits his teeth, narrowing his eyes at the woman. "I'm perfectly capable of finding my own date, thank you Catrina."
The blond woman chuckles, glancing to Uther as if to check his reaction. "Of course you are, I was merely saying that –"
"I know what you were suggesting," Arthur's smile is strained and he curses the light in his fathers' eyes that hints that something has been said that he is considering.
"Perhaps it would be wise to bring Vivian to the party," he intones thoughtfully, "Her father is an influential man and his name associated with ours could be very good for business."
"You can't be suggesting Arthur date a woman to further your career!" Morgana bites out, surprised, as he places her glass back on the table. Arthur isn't, it isn't the first time Uther Pendragon has hints to such a thing, although usually he is more subtle. "He should be able to choose his own partners, because he wants to be with them –"
"Morgana, please." The whole lunch is a charade, and Arthur has become quite tired of it. He doesn't like his love life being discussed at the best of times, let alone with his family. "Father, I will not subject Vivian to that, she should be with someone who genuinely wants to. Catrina, if I wish to bring someone, I will."
The man looks down at his nearly finished dessert, flicks his wrist to catch sight of his watch and looks back at his father. "As much as I would like to continue this, father, I have to leave. Thank you for inviting me and cooking a wonderful dinner." He ducks his head and stands, making his way over to the door, hearing the telltale scrapes of the other chairs, and two sets of footsteps following his lead out into the cool hallway. He leans against the wall and waits for Morgana to join him.
She rolls her eyes and shakes her head in exasperation as Uther appears, bidding his children good bye from both him and Catrina.
Out in the fresh air and ambling towards Morgana's car, Arthur rubs a hand down his face. He slumps in the passenger seat and shakes his head. "Catrina is a troll." Morgana laughs as he pulls out of the driveway.
"Gold digger is more likely." The dark haired beauty shifts gears. "Bitch."
Arthur only grunts in agreement.
The pub is quiet, which is not surprising for a Sunday evening – there are a few regulars dotted about the bar and occupying one or two of the tables, and the chime of the fruit machine rings out at regular intervals, cutting through the low buzz of conversation and odd, rough laugh as Arthur enters. His eyes skim the bodies in the space, nodding a greeting to the barmaid – a nice girl called Freya – before he spots a familiar dark tousled hair sitting with another dark haired someone that Arthur can only see from behind.
Lancelot notices him almost immediately, probably hearing the jangle of Arthurs' keys where they are clipped to his belt loop and not, Arthur hopes, the irritating squeak of his callipers that he still hasn't gotten around to oiling.
As Arthur approaches, he notices that there is a feminine coat and black handbag he recognises on the table beside Lancelot. So Gwen is here as well.
"Where's Gwen?" he asks, close enough to be heard without needing to raise his voice.
"Toilet," the man answers and Arthur nods, sitting beside the mystery man who has only just looked up. Arthur glances at him, away then glances back.
Ah, coffee boy.
"Hi," the man says with a wave of his head – what was his name again? He really should know, he has been served coffee by him countless of times.
"Hello," is his more sedate reply, not that Merlin – that's it! Merlin. Weird arse name, really – seems to mind. His smile is wide and innocent and looks as though it belongs on the face of a child rather than a grown man.
"Arthur, this is Merlin, one of Gwen's close friends," Lancelot says, granting him a glance from Arthur, before the blond nods his head in acknowledgement of the boy – he refuses to call him a man with a grin like that. "Merlin, Arthur."
There is a noise from Merlin. "Black coffee," he says, rubbing his nose with a nod. "Sorry about the other day."
Arthur blinks at him. The other day?
"What's eating you?" Ah, yes, the rather tactless prodding into his business as if he has some kind of right. Arthur shrugs it off.
"It's fine." The Merlin character beams at him in that childish way before returning to his conversation with Lancelot just as Gwen appears.
"Arthur," she ducks to kiss his cheek. "Good to see you." He answers likewise and she settles in her seat, sipping a coke delicately. Arthur exchanges mandatory pleasantries with the woman, only half listening to her recounting of her day – her voice is half exasperated, half fond as she talks of shopping with Merlin. A well placed nudge on her part into his ribs, makes the dark haired man snort a little into his drink, and curse.
The expletive sounds strange coming from him, Arthur muses. He seems too... childlike to swear, dressed in a logoed top and bagging jeans, he appears more of a teenager than the twenty-something Arthur guesses him to be.
"As I was saying before someone tried to choke me," Merlin says, sending a mock glare to the dark skinned woman to his right. "Will and me were thinking of bungee jumping or something – you know, one of those extreme time things."
"Why would you want to do that?" Gwen asks, shifting her bag beneath the table.
Merlin shrugs with a carefree grin. "Shits and giggles?"
Lancelot smiles. "You're too carefree Merlin, get some responsibilities."
Merlin looks affronted. "I have plenty of responsibilities – rent, bills..."
"They are not adequate responsibilities, idiot," Arthur drawls, with a smirk, wanting to see his reaction – if the carefree grin would drop or not. He seems too cheery to be real. "They are life."
Merlin waves hand in dismissal. "Are you telling me you wouldn't want to do something like that?"
"I'm not sure I would be able to."
"That's a defeatist attitude, you won't get anywhere it that Arthur."
Arthur raises an eyebrow. Is he really getting lectured by a boy?
"It's practical," he argues. And it's Merlin's turn to raise an eyebrow, a surprisingly mature expression on his face. It looks strange on him – he should never look adult, it doesn't suit him.
"Why, 'cause you're in a wheelchair?" he asks, with no subtly or sensitivity. Arthur is surprised. It doesn't annoy him, far from it. The blunt approach is almost... refreshing.
"Partly."
Merlin shrugs with no shoulder. "That means nothing, it shouldn't hold you back. Besides, look at those guys playing wheelchair rugby or basketball – they can't run and they still play sport. Don't let it restrict you."
"Rugby is a little different to bungee jumping."
Merlin looks a little bemused, a small smile playing his face. "Why? I mean, I'm guessing you still have both legs, and if you do, what's the issue? I mean sure, you might have to have different kind of harness but it could work."
The boy holds a good point. "I do have both legs still," he confirms and ignores the rest of the sentence. Merlin laughs. It's a nice noise, and perhaps Arthur might be willing to amend his first observation from back in the coffee lounge that the boy was an idiot.
"Prat, you know I'm right – just admit it."
Maybe not.
"An idiot like you right about something? When Hell freezes over, maybe." Arthur snorts.
"Grab your skates, clotpole," Merlin grins boyishly, "it just happened."
The evening passes surprisingly quickly, and Arthur finds himself quite enjoying Merlin's company. He is unashamedly brash and outspoken, never hesitating in what he says. He acknowledges Arthur's disability, has even gone as far as to inquire what happened and what exactly was wrong with him with genuine curiosity and none of the pity that often clouds a face when he tells them the story. There is a bit of sympathy in his gaze, but Arthur doesn't call him on it and Merlin doesn't bother to offer any words to acknowledge either.
A character, this Merlin, he thinks. One to keep around if only because his idiocy is entertaining. Merlin is by no means thick, his intelligence glints in his eyes and peaks out from around his humour and witty banter, but his common sense is perhaps leaves a bit to be desired.
And he can get a bit overly passionate about things, blue eyes glittering and hands carelessly gesturing a bit widely until Arthur flicked him upside the head and told him to knock it off, causing Lancelot to grin (especially when Merlin glared at the blond without effect. The Pendragon smirk that he recognised from years of being friends with him firmly in place) and Gwen to look between them with the calculating gaze only women truly possess.
Merlin is the first to leave, checking a battered watch on a wrist that seem to Arthur much too thin. "I'd best be going, I'm on an open tomorrow and Mrs. Dempsie will kill me if I'm late."
He stands; stretching a little to straighten the kinks in is body before grinning. He leans over the table, kissing Gwen's cheek and promising to call her at some point, before clasping Lancelot's offered hand in his own and briefly shaking it.
"Take care you guys," he says before turning to Arthur, holding out his newly freed hand. "Nice to meet you, mate. I guess I'll see you tomorrow as usual?"
Arthur takes the proffered hand with a smile. "If you have a free coffee waiting for me."
"Oh sure," Merlin grins, smiling."If you have a full stamp card, that is."
Arthur laughs and Merlin waves a goodnight before grabbing his coat and disappearing.
"I told you Merlin was an all right bloke," Lancelot says, smile superior, as if often is when Arthur proves him right. Arthur just throws a slightly soggy beer mat at him.
AN: It's 2:30 in the morning, I can't be bothered to read this over for mistakes. I'll do it when I wake up xD
Hope it was worth the wait, even if the first bit if a bit shit. The last two I like though.