Hi! Shooting Blindly here. So this is the second chapter. I realize that its a little boring, but i need to establish certain relationships. It'll pick up soon, i promise. Thank you to my single reviewer, weepingelm, i really appreciate it! Ill try and keep it up. If anyone has any suggestions, i'd appreciate the feedback. Keep in mind that this is my first try at fanfiction, and im totally out of my comfort zone. Enjoy!

Chapter Two: Une Bonne Soirée

"Ugh." Arthur woke up feeling stiff and groggy. By the time he rolled out of bed, it was ten, and well past when he usually woke up.

He padded across the floor to the door to the kitchen, having in mind only fixing himself a cuppa. A little note sat in front of the door, and Arthur picked it up and read it.

Good morning.

Don't need the kitchen today.

Have at it.

M

Arthur nodded to himself. Whoever it was who shared his kitchen and living room made themselves scarce. He was never home when Arthur was, and, consequentially, they had never met, even though it was already nearing the end of the first semester. But this suited Arthur just fine; as long as he and M stayed out of each others' way, Arthur was content to deny the existence of his flatmate.

Setting the kettle to boil, Arthur sprawled on the couch in their modest living room and promptly fell asleep.

He woke up the second time that day when the kettle whistled. He got up and turned down the heat, adding in some of the tea that Merlin had given him the night before. He let it steep for a while, and then poured some in a mug.

If the memory of the flavour of the tea had dulled at all overnight, the first sip brought it back in sharp relief. He was back in the run down shop again, dust clotting the windows, paint on canvas covering the walls, the smell of herbs hung out to dry, the paper cup with sharpied lines in smooth and dry in his hand.

One cup quickly became two, and soon he had drunk a whole kettle's worth of tea. The whole flat smelled like pine. Unfortunately, the tea hadn't woken him up, like Arthur had hoped it would, but instead left him feeling pleasantly lethargic. Arthur's plan to have a productive day of working out and studying rapidly dissolved into the desire to have his first lie-in of the year.

Time blurred for Arthur as he entered the twilight zone between sleep and wakefulness. He watched as his dreams played themselves in the middle of the living room.

When Arthur woke up properly, he was in his bed, with no memory of having gotten there. It was six o'clock; what had started out as an innocent nap had turned into an eight hour sleep.

Is it even possible for humans to sleep that long, wondered Arthur. He got out of bed and put on a hat and a scarf, deciding against a jacket at the last minute. There was a note tucked under his door.

What did you do? Smells like fucking Christmas up in here. Arthur scowled and crumpled the note, throwing it into the waste basket under his desk. He got out of the flat, locked the door, and headed out.

He tossed the ends of his scarf over his shoulders as the cold hit him full force. Yesterday, the cold had served as a numbing agent to keep him from thinking. This time, it woke him up and cleared his head. And all of the thoughts that he had kept at bay came flooding into his mind.

Uther, thought Arthur, walking faster. His throat closed up and his vision blurred. He wiped resolutely at his eyes. Don't you dare cry now, Pendragon. Your tears will freeze on your face. No matter how hard he tried, the tears kept coming back, and he had to keep wiping at them.

By the time he realized where his feet were taking him, he was in front of the dusty little shop he'd found yesterday. Merlin was wiping at the countertop, and it looked like he had found a stain that was being stubborn. An old man sat at the table only table in the room, sketching something. Arthur sat down across from him, and tried to cast subtle looks at the sketchpad. Every time he tried to see what the old man was drawing, he shifted slightly and Arthur's view was obstructed. He decided, instead, to focus on the artist rather than the art.

The man's hair was white and slightly frizzy, as if it was trying to pull itself away from the man's scalp. One of his eyebrows was drooping, and, as if to compensate for that, the other eyebrow was set high on his forehead, making him look permanently dubious. He looked frail, like a bird, but the way he carried himself belied the density of his bones.

The man looked up at Arthur, and the eyebrow climbed higher, the man's hazel eyes peering at Arthur shrewdly. Arthur shuffled uncomfortably in his seat.

"Gaius, stop it. You're making the customer uncomfortable," Merlin called from the countertop, not bothering to look up. Arthur cast Merlin a grateful look, and Merlin looked up and gave Arthur a smile. "How was the tea?" Arthur scowled again.

"Well, it tasted amazing, but it knocked me out for the whole fucking day, now I won't be able to sleep at all." Merlin laughed, dropping the rag onto the counter, and collapsing on the chair behind him.

"When I say you need a calming tea, I don't mean that tea is calming. I mean the tea has relaxant properties. It literally calms you down. What did you do, drink a whole kettle?" asked Merlin, between gasps of laughter. Arthur flushed.

"No," he said, sulking. Merlin just laughed again.

"Liar," he grinned. Arthur huffed and turned his head to face away from Merlin. A chuckle came from the old man, Gaius.

"Can you just do your job and make me some tea?" Arthur snapped.

"Of course, your majesty," Merlin laughed. "What shall I serve you with this time?"

"I don't know. I haven't memorized your bloody menu."

"Alright, some earl grey, then."

"No! No, um. Not that," Arthur said. My father used to drink earl grey, is what he didn't say. Merlin didn't ask any questions, only raised an eyebrow and nodded, and Arthur felt a swell of gratitude towards this stranger. Gaius flipped his page and began a new drawing, and Merlin set to making some tea.

Really, Arthur, this is childish. You must behave as superior as you are. You must be set an example for the plebeians that look up to you. This is unacceptable behaviour for the heir of Camelot Enterprises. Uther had said this to him once when he was seven years old, and had thrown a fit because he hadn't been allowed to get a pet. The short lecture had left him feeling unexpectedly ashamed, even though he hadn't known what plebeians meant at the time. Uther had repeated that statement an infinite amount of times as Arthur grew up, and it seemed exactly what he would have said now. You must always speak like a well-educated and articulate man. Arthur snorted to himself, earning an odd look from Merlin. Articulate my ass, he thought.

Merlin brought another one of those paper cups that he had decorated. This time, the design was done in green, a simple leaf covering one side of the cup. Arthur traced his fingers around the veins of the leaf, feeling the warmth of its tissue against his cold fingers.

Merlin came and poured a brown liquid into the cup, and Arthur wrapped his fingers around it quickly, absorbing the warmth and closing his eyes comfortably. Gaius got up, took his sketchbook with him, and went into the back room, Merlin replacing him on the chair in front of Arthur. They sat quietly for a little, Arthur feeling the warmth of the tea seep through the paper cup and into his hands.

"You should talk to someone about what happened," said Merlin, quite suddenly.

"Uh, what?"

"That thing that happened to you? You should talk to someone about it." Arthur scowled.

"Nothing happened to me," he protested.

"Look, Arthur, was it? I'm not stupid. When someone purposely comes to a shop like this and stares at the table like it offers the secrets of the universe, something is bothering them. It's not healthy to let things like this fester in your head. You should talk to someone. It doesn't have to be me, but, you know. For the sake of whatever sanity you actually have." Arthur took a sip from the tea and leaned back against his chair, looking at Merlin contemplatively.

"My father died," he said, and waited for Merlin's reaction.

"What was he like?"

"Are you stupid? I don't want to talk about this!"

"Yes, you do. You didn't have to say anything but you did. You want to talk about this. Plus, I watched my father die too, so I know how it feels," said Merlin quietly. Arthur paused for a beat, and then looked down.

"He was awful. Shitty, god-awful, terrible father. He never had time for me, only for Cam. Because Cam needed more taking care of than a little baby. I was raised by a whole bunch of nannies that would be fired faster than they were hired. Nothing was ever good enough for him. Not the nannies, not the house, not me. It was always Cam. She was the best thing in his life.

"Despite that, whenever I would get recognition for something I did, it always felt so good. To finally have his attention for a fraction of a second always made me proud enough that I could feel it in my chest. Whenever he asked for my help with Cam, doing something he didn't want to do, I felt happy knowing there were things I could do that didn't completely disappoint him.

"I don't think he really hated me. It was more like indifference. I was only useful because I would take care of Cam after he died. And now he is dead and I – I wasn't even there to say goodbye. I just let the cancer eat at him, never went to visit, had no idea what was going on. The last thing I could have ever done for him, I didn't do. I failed him. Again. And this time, he can't even yell at me for it." Merlin got up and brought over a tissue box, and pointed at the cup.

"Drink," he said. "Against the cold, and the sorrow." Arthur smiled a little at the Pirates of the Caribbean reference, and did as he was told. "As for it being the last thing you'll ever do for him, that's not true. The last thing you'll do for him will be taking care of Cam, right?" Arthur nodded, and Merlin smiled gently. "Good. See? Now wipe your face, tears make you look even uglier."

Arthur wiped at his eyes and shook himself. He took a deep breath and fixed Merlin with a glare.

"This didn't happen. I wasn't here, and I didn't speak to you. I am Arthur Pendragon. I don't do tears and confessions."

"Of course, your majesty. Now drink the damn tea. I'm gonna have to defrost you next time you come in. What is it with you and not wearing jackets? It's the middle of fucking January. Really, just cause your body fat keeps you from getting cold means that it's healthy to go out naked in the winter." Arthur gaped.

"I am not fat!" Merlin grinned.

"Whatever lets you sleep at night, sire." Arthur hid his smile behind his paper cup.