A/N: I think you're all going to like this chapter :D
Ch. 5
"I'm Happy to be your servant, until the day I die."
Arthur stood before the stone that Merlin had brought him to, the sword it held shining like quicksilver and the sun. He saw his people before him, waiting with held breath, felt Merlin behind him, smiling, encouraging him with his presence alone. The doubt that had crippled Arthur slowly bled from him as he gripped the blade. He pulled, and pulled, and the blade slipped free.
Merlin, sneaky man that he was, always knew how to make Arthur remember what it was to believe in himself.
~oOo~
"Wha...?" Arthur gasped, peeling open his sticky eyelids. He looked around his room gray lit with the coming morning, then down at the source of warmth heating up his palm. He quickly snatched his hand away from off of Merlin's ribs. Merlin was still curled up, but it was a lose curl, his breathing gentle and even.
Arthur made a break for it back to the couch while he could. Providing comfort was all well and good, but were Merlin to wake and catch Arthur in the act it would most likely only freak him out. Were Gwaine to catch him in the act, Arthur would never hear the end of it, especially if it got back to Morgana, which it would, because Morgana may have hated Gwaine's guts when he flirted with her but she adored his stories about Arthur.
Speaking of Morgana...
Arthur groaned piteously, amazed and a little disgusted with himself at what he was fathoming. But if there was anyone more capable when it came to shopping than Morgana, Arthur doubted such a person existed. Morgana may have loved any and all reasons to shop but even Arthur had to admit she was brilliant at it. She knew how to find the best discounts, how not to over-max a credit card, and having an interior design fetish, she knew all about furniture.
Arthur waited until after breakfast to call her, when he was more awake.
"Oh, Arthur, that is so precious!" Morgana simpered in delight. "Buying a bed for Merlin and letting him stay with you. I always knew that deep down inside you were nothing but pudding. Vanilla pudding. Kind of bland but still sweet."
Arthur rolled his eyes. "Yes, fine, I'm pudding... pudding, really?" He twitched his head. Now was not the time for verbal sparring, which Morgana mostly won, anyway. "Look, you're the furniture expert-"
"I am, and you were very wise to come to me."
"But I'm the one who'll be paying for this and I don't want anything fancy. None of your... cherry-oak-cedar antique whatever nonsense. It needs to be big enough to fit into Gwaine's room without taking up unnecessary space and it needs to be comfortable."
"Oh, Arthur, you're no fun," Morgana mock-pouted.
"Morgana, I mean it. It needs to be about comfort, not about whatever was featured in one of your interior design magazines."
"Arthur, relax. I was kidding. Besides, I pick anything fancy Gwaine'll probably claim it just to impress whoever he brings home. Are you sure having Merlin share a room with him is a good idea?"
"I'm hoping it'll discourage him from bringing anyone home."
"Ah, excellent point. You leave this bed business to me and I'll let you know when it's time to make a purchase. I'm in need of some new throw pillows, anyway."
Morgana hung up. Arthur stared at his now quiet cell, surprised that Morgana had been able to keep the mocking to such a minimum.
Arthur went to his room, mostly to get clothes, partly to check on Merlin to make sure he was still sleeping peacefully. He was, his limbs loose and his breathing even. And though his face was still pale, there wasn't as much of a flush to his cheeks. Arthur grabbed his clothes and prepared for a day of doing absolutely nothing.
"Not even tonight?" Gwaine said when he woke, asked what the plan for today was and Arthur said nothing. "No clubbing?" He sounded rather put out about it. "That'll make it two weeks we haven't gone. Bit of a sad record for us if you think about it."
"It's not like I'm stopping you," Arthur said from where he had sprawled out on the couch. He was wearing sweats, his university hoodie and was feeling incredibly comfortable despite the awkward sleep he'd had.
"Is the kid okay?" Gwaine asked.
"He's fine. I just don't feel like going out." And inadvertently picking up another stray in the process, Arthur thought. But neither was that the reason he felt like staying in. He had no reason, to be honest, he simply lacked the desire to go out and get hammered, that was all. Neither was he surprised by it. It had been such an odd few weeks what with the whole Merlin situation that seemed to occupy most of his thoughts these days, leaving little to no room for the usual annoyances that was his father and his mundane existence at work.
Gwaine, being his usual gaudy and unabashed self dressed in only boxers, plopped himself onto the only available spot of couch with a smile on his face that Arthur was very much not liking.
"Can we...?" Gwaine began.
Arthur frowned. "No."
"Oh, come on. It's not the same as going out. It's just a couple of the lads, a few snacks, some cards. You don't even have to join in if you don't want. And I'll keep it quiet, I promise." Gwaine gave him a big-eyed look. "Hey, come on, it's only fair. You know I've been wanting to have a game with the lads for some time but I always said no and you know why? Because you know I'll always be your wingman when you need to blow off some steam, yeah?"
Morgana was right, Arthur was made of pudding, or was starting to turn into pudding. Arthur, after a quick eye roll, bobbed his head, and the flood gates opened. Gwaine was up, had his phone in hand and so spent the rest of the morning refusing to dress until he'd phoned all the boys. Arthur supposed it really was only fair. Card games used to be the staple of their night life back during their uni days, then came Arthur's forced employment at the family business that no card game could cure and poker night had become a thing of the past.
To be honest, Arthur had missed it. Clubbing was all fine and well to work off a store of energy, but you couldn't exactly call it a night with friends with the majority of them distracted by girls. And most of those nights Arthur couldn't even remember.
Merlin managed to wake before noon. Instead of his usual greeting of timid uncertainty as though still half-fearing that Arthur planned to kick him out at any moment, Merlin greeted Arthur with a small, friendly smile. Arthur was immediately suspicious.
"Sleep well?" Arthur asked, managing to make it sound off-handed.
"Yeah," Merlin said. "I actually feel more awake today."
"No... odd dreams or anything?"
Merlin, making his way to the kitchen, shrugged. "Aren't most dreams odd?"
Arthur glanced at Merlin in mild surprise, because he was quite sure Merlin was being cheeky. He was certainly showing far more comfort in his surroundings and situation these days, and he'd smiled, without any prompting on Arthur's part.
Merlin had his breakfast, then he cleaned, which Arthur told him he didn't have to do but it only made Merlin smile, again.
"I don't mind. It gives me something to do, actually," Merlin said.
Arthur shrugged. Far be it from him to deny someone such a useful form of entertainment.
The rest of the day was spent getting things ready for poker night – mostly by Gwaine, who must have finished making all the needed calls since he was finally dressed, and Merlin, wrangled into helping simply because of his need to be helpful. Arthur mostly sat back and ignored them in favor of watching TV.
The glass table was soon converted into something that would be more at home in Vegas, covered by the green felt mat that Gwaine always said gave the games a legitimate feel. The cards were out, the poker chips stack neatly in their box, and bowls at the ready for salty, blood-congealing snacks. So enthused by the prospect of poker night, Gwaine didn't even try to talk Arthur into doing a bit of grocery shopping. Gwaine actually went himself. Arthur was quite sure that was one of the lesser signs of the Apocalypse. Merlin busied himself with extra tidying and looking rather pleased about it, like the more useful he could be the happier he was.
"You a poker man, Merlin?" Arthur asked over his shoulder while Merlin wiped down the kitchen counters.
"Er... Not really," Merlin said. "I've never played before."
"Well, you can always sit and watch. Frankly I think Percival's attempts at cheating are far more entertaining than the game itself."
Arthur heard Merlin chuckle.
Gwaine returned an hour and a half later loaded down with bags full of things they would regret eating later but love in the moment – not just chips but pretzels, popcorn, one of those pre-made meat and cheese platters, little wrapped sausages, little hot wings that he didn't waste time popping into the oven, and a psychotic amount of Guinness. Oh, and not a vegetable in sight. Gwaine was like a kid the night before Christmas, or a kid on a sugar high, buzzing about and annoying Arthur with his energy and yammering.
Merlin mostly thought it funny, smiling and laughing as Gwaine regaled him with tales of past poker games, like the time they all got so drunk Percy thought they were playing Rummy, Elyan Egyptian War, Lance had tried and failed to build a card castle and Arthur had tossed the bowl of pretzels at Leon when he had suggested strip poker.
Then seven rolled around, and the idiots in question arrived, filling the flat with manly chaos until it was time for the game to start. They gathered around the table, each with their own Guinness – except for Merlin, who confessed rather contritely to not being much of a drinker, but who couldn't drink, anyway, seeing as he was still on medication – and a plate of wings and wrapped sausages. The bowls of chips and pretzels were gathered in the center of the table within easy reach.
"So, Merlin," Percival said. "What misfortune landed you with the bad luck that is knowing Arthur?"
Arthur tried very hard not to stiffen and look alarmed. He knew the question was going to be asked – mostly as a conversation topic – and Arthur had thought himself adequately prepared with a dismissive response of 'oh, you know, the usual – out clubbing, got drunk, made a friend.' But Merlin beat him to the answer.
"I, um... I needed a place to stay," was all he said.
Leon nodded sagely. "Ah, the old taking in the strays. That's how I met both Arthur and Gwaine. They were so bloody pissed there was no way they were getting home and I said they could crash at my flat."
Gwaine chuckled. "And I woke thinking you'd had your way with me, remember that?" Being next to Merlin, he nudged him lightly with his elbow. "I didn't have a shirt on. Turned out I'd puked all over it."
"And luckily you were so hung over you couldn't land a decent punch to save your life," Leon said, chuckling back.
"Is getting drunk how you all met?" Merlin asked, which resulted in a rowdy burst of guffaws.
"Pretty much, yeah," said Elyan when he was able to catch his breath.
"Not Merlin," Arthur said, tossing in two cards. "Actually you're the first to come into any of our good graces sober."
"But, er... you were a bit drunk, though," Merlin said, rubbing the back of his neck with uncertainty. He gave a nervous, breathy laugh. "You could barely walk, as I recall."
Arthur narrowed his eyes at him. "True." Merlin seemed about to shrink back, clearly under the impression that he had said something wrong. Then Arthur held up a finger in triumph.
"Ah, but I was sober enough to drive when I invited you over. Therefore, technically, I wasn't drunk. So, therefore, we can finally say we have an acquaintance not the result of idiotic amounts of inebriation. Gentlemen, we are capable of making friends sober. Or at least some of us are."
"Here, here," said Gwaine, raising his bottle. "I, too, was sober. Mostly, I think."
Merlin's smile was so big it made his eyes squint, and something about the smile filled Arthur with warm contentment. Of all the things that had felt so out-of-place when it came to Merlin, Arthur finally had the impression that he was seeing something that was pure Merlin.
The game wore on, the night dragging by, food and Guinness consumed, it seemed, by the pound. The conversation wandered as conversations did, loud and bawdy and full of free-spirited fun. Talks of recent escapades turned to complaints about work and how annoying their bosses were.
"What is it you all do?" Merlin said, still with that very Merlin smile on his face. While the rest of them were beginning to feel the first buzz of alcohol, Merlin seemed to be gaining energy like a child eating too many sweets. He was alert, sitting straighter, his eyes darting from person to person, soaking in their conversation like water on dry soil.
Percival had already mentioned his job as a bouncer, since that's where his more entertaining stories came from. Lance worked as a fencing instructor, Leon for a security firm, Elyan in textiles, and of course Merlin already knew Gwaine was a model.
"I work for my father at his company," Arthur said. "Data entry, for the most part, and that's only when I'm not suffering my brains turning to liquid when he has me sit in on one of his endless meetings."
"He's groomed to take over the business," Lance said cheerfully.
"Yes, because apparently my father is under the impression that it was the only career choice I ever thought to consider," Arthur said bitterly, only partially aware of the Guinness loosening his tongue to uncomfortable proportions.
"Ha!" Gwaine barked. "Like you even had a career choice. Come on, Princess, it isn't all that bad. Your dear old dad's a bloody millionaire."
"It's a good business," Elyan explained to Merlin. "It owns several well known pharmaceutical and textile companies, like the one I work for. Provides loads of jobs and the medicines they've come out with have helped a ton of people. They even saved a few companies from going under, kept people from losing employment. Right, Arthur?"
Arthur grunted noncommittal, mostly because Elyan was right. The company may have been mind-numbingly dull to work for, but it was a good business.
The conversation meandered on, from jobs to future plans for the weekend. They talked of accumulating enough time off for a real vacation, and just like that they found themselves making plans to go somewhere and do something, something that involved getting out of the city, maybe do a bit of sight-seeing or camping. Just for the sake of something different.
"We're out of chips and sausages," Percival announced.
"Yeah, and who's fault is that?" said Elyan. "You practically inhaled it all."
"I'll get some more," Arthur said, already getting up.
Gwaine swatted the idea aside. "Nah, we're good. Plenty left to eat."
"True but I want more Doritoes. I love Doritoes." Which was the alcohol talking, because as much as he loved Doritoes they usually weren't worth heading out into the cold night to get, even with the shop just down the street.
"I can get them for you," Merlin said eagerly, hopping up from his chair.
Arthur shook his head. "No, I got this."
"Better go with him, Merlin," Gwaine said with a twinkle in his eye. "Even slightly buzzed Arthur doesn't have that great a sense of direction."
"Oh, sod off!" Arthur barked.
But it was too late, the suggestion had been planted in Merlin's mind and rather than take it as the joke it was, Merlin took it as an order of the highest caliber. Arthur tried to get him to not come, reminding him that he was still sick, even if it wasn't quite so bad anymore, and that he might make himself more sick stepping out into the cold. Merlin dismissed it all cheerily.
"I'm hardier than I look," he said.
Arthur snorted, but gave up trying to stop Merlin. They bundled themselves into their coats and stepped out into the chilly night.
"Do you not want to take over your dad's business?" Merlin asked as they walked down the street that crunched with frost.
Arthur took a deep breath of frigid air, the biting cold entering his lungs clearing his mind, some. "I'll be honest. I've never particularly considered what I wanted. But I'm sure I'm not the right man for the job. My father is the one with the head for business, not me."
"But you could learn," Merlin said. Despite his earlier claims of being hardy, and even wrapped in his coat as he was, he had his arms folded tight against his chest, his body slightly hunched against the cold. The complete opposite of Arthur who was mostly loose limbed even with a chilled breeze blowing.
Arthur scoffed. "Possibly. But I think the safer bet would be to sign the company over to someone my father can be sure won't run it into the ground. I don't even know why he bothers to train me, he's forever going on and on about how I'm not ready and probably never will be. Why not make life easier on the both of us and find someone better suited for the job? Lords, you'd think it was a bloody kingdom he was running."
Merlin shrugged. "Maybe he thinks you are capable, he just won't admit it."
"Ha!" Arthur said.
They arrived at the store and bought five bags of chips, plus some queso dip, because Arthur suddenly found himself in the mood for queso dip. He also bought some hot chocolate powder, because Merlin was staring at it like it was a steak and he was starving.
The stepped from the warmth of the store into bone-numbing cold.
They were not even a fourth of a block away when it happened. Two men burst from the shadows, jittery and bellowing as they demanded money. The one making the demands was holding a knife pointed at Arthur. The other was standing in front of Merlin, fingers twitching and ready to act if Merlin tried anything. When Merlin backed up, the man moved with him until the poor kid was pinned against the wall.
"Give me your money!"
"All right, all right!" Arthur said, so flustered and frightened that in his attempt to get to his wallet the bags he didn't think to drop got in the way, turning what should have been only seconds long into minutes, aggravating the man to the point of maddened frenzy.
"I said give me your bloody wallet!" he snarled, his blood shot eyes wide. He lunged for Arthur.
Merlin shouted, "No!"
Suddenly, both men went flying back as if hit with an unseen force. They landed on their backs, briefly dazed. The man without the knife recovered first. He scrambled to his feet, grabbed his partner and practically dragged him in his need to get away and get away, now.
Arthur stood there, bags about to slip from his limp hands. He looked at Merlin, hunched and trembling against the wall, but it wasn't the retreating men he was staring at with wide, terrified eyes.
It was Arthur.
"I'm sorry... I'm sorry, I didn't mean to I'm... I'm sorry," he babbled over and over. Then Arthur realized he was inching away from Arthur, still against the wall and still cringing but his body language screaming of how he was about to run.
Arthur quickly and messily transferred the bags to his other hand while placing himself in front of Merlin. He placed his free hand on Merlin's shaking shoulder.
"Merlin, are you all right? Did that man hurt you?"
Merlin shook his head. His face was pale, almost glowing in the night. He wouldn't stop shaking, and if his breathing kept picking up speed he was going to hyperventilate.
Thoughts of shock filled Arthur's head, and he wrapped his arm around Merlin's shoulders, steering him back around toward home. Arthur's own heart was racing, his body vibrating with adrenaline and fear and worry. Great, they would probably both drop dead from shock before they so much as got to the door.
"I'm sorry," Merlin went on. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to do that."
"Do what?" Arthur said absently, more concerned with getting them home.
"The men," Merlin said. "What happened to them."
Arthur looked down at Merlin, puzzled.
Right. The men had gone flying backwards, like something out of a movie.
Arthur slowed, nearly stopped, until he remembered their state of being and hurried them both along.
"That was you?" he asked. "Are you saying you did that?"
Merlin's head nodded just as shakily as the rest of him.
"You sent them flying? How?"
"I don't know. I've never done it that... that big before. It was always little things, and I never did it much. Mum said not to, that it might scare people."
Arthur sighed, then took a deep breath, the cold helping him find his patience. "Merlin, you're not making any sense."
"I..." Merlin's body shook hard with a shiver. "I can... kind of... move things. With my mind, sometimes. But it was always little things like plates and cups. Nothing big like that. I think it was because I was scared and then that man came at you with the knife and I didn't really think about it it just happened and-"
"Merlin. Merlin. Breathe. It's all right. Calm down." Except Merlin wasn't calming down. His breathing was still fast, his body still shaking, and he was starting to stumble and they still weren't near the flat.
"So you can move things with your mind," Arthur stated, thinking fast, his heart racing in near-panic. "Like the X-Men? Are you a secret super-hero mutant and you just didn't bother to tell me?"
Merlin's lips twitched in a brief smile. "I don't know what I am," he said rather dejectedly. "My mum tried to find out, called all these institutions to see if they could tell us. She wasn't scared of it, though," he added quickly thinking Arthur would get the wrong idea. "She thought it was neat. But I needed help with it because it would just happen, sometimes. The institute people were nice. They couldn't tell me what it was but they at least showed me how to control it."
"Did your step dad know?" Arthur asked, but had a feeling he knew the answer.
"No. He just thought it was because I had mental problems."
When they finally reached the door to the flat, Merlin's breathing was under control, but he still twitched with the shakes and refused to lift his eyes from their downward position.
"Merlin?" Arthur asked, his hand on the door knob, about to open it. "Merlin, are you sure you're not hurt?"
"I'm fine," Merlin muttered.
Arthur sighed, dropping his hand from the knob. "Merlin, what's wrong? And don't tell me nothing's the matter. Is it because of... of what you did? Because I find you saving our lives a rather odd thing to feel guilty about."
Merlin glanced up at him. It was brief, but long enough for Arthur to see a sea of emotions flitting through his eyes – fear, uncertainty, but most of all, a tentative hope.
"It doesn't bother you? What I did?" he asked, timid as the day Arthur had met him.
"Well, I must admit it's certainly different. But I'm not sure why it would bother me." Except it did bother him, just not in the way Merlin thought it did. The kid could move things with his mind, and as Arthur had said, it was different, and odd, a little unnerving, even, should Arthur ever accidentally scare the boy badly enough to get knocked back as well.
But Arthur also had the impression that it would take something as bad as a man holding a knife screaming at him for the boy to ever use his... gift, power, Arthur wasn't sure what to call it... against anyone to that degree.
And it was still Merlin. Skinny, timid Merlin. And...
And...
It felt...
Right. It fit. Like Merlin's smile and his occasional cheekiness. Arthur didn't know how or why, but being able to move things with the mind... it was strange to say, but not strange to think – it was just so Merlin.
"It's quite exciting, really. Our very own X-Man," Arthur said. "Could come in handy the next time I need to play a prank on Gwaine." He smiled at Merlin.
Merlin smiled back, a real smile, full of gratitude, relief, but also the rather scary possibility of him bursting into tears.
"Come on," Arthur said, pressing his hand to Merlin's shoulder to push him closer to the door. "Let's go regale the others with grand tales our adventure. That is, unless you're not ready yet?"
"Um..." Merlin shuffled uneasily. "No. I'm sorry but... I just..."
Arthur patted his shoulder. "It's fine, Merlin. We don't have to say anything. Besides, Gwaine would probably end up getting you to prank me, first."
They entered the flat, the gang greeting them with a cheer, except for Percival, who greeted them with a chipper, "About bloody time you got back, I'm starving."
Arthur left the bags for the boys to raid, providing an ample enough distraction so that Arthur could take another few minutes to make sure Merlin was all right. The idiot got winded on the way to the store but should be fine, was what Arthur said to anyone not too busy stuffing their face with pretzels to listen. He ushered Merlin to the couch, had him sit, handed him one of the throw blankets Morgana said would be a crime not to have in any house, then handed him the remote.
"You're sure you're fine?" Arthur pressed.
"Yeah," Merlin said, covering himself in the blanket then burrowing into it. Arthur was relieved to see his shivers had subsided.
Merlin smiled up at Arthur. "I'll be all right."
Arthur believed him, then went to make some hot chocolate.
TBC...