FIC: Champagne from a paper cup (is never quite the same) 1/4
Title: Champagne from a paper cup (is never quite the same) 1/4
Pairing: Arthur/Merlin, with Gwaine/Elena, Morgana/Leon and a mention of Gwen/Lancelot
Rating: NC-17 overall
Word Count: ~38,000
Spoilers/Warnings: None.
Summary: Modern AU with magic. Arthur is a professional footballer on the verge of making history. Merlin is a medical student with special powers who's just been hired to work for Arthur's club. You know the rest.
Notes: See Master Post. There will be no headers on subsequent chapters.
Disclaimer: I do not own these characters, and I am not getting paid. Please don't sue me.
4 August 2010
"You're doing what?"
At Elena's shriek, half the pub turned to look at them. Merlin rubbed at the ear closest to her, wincing.
"Fuck's sake, woman, keep it down. I don't think they heard you at the North Pole."
"Oh, I'm sorry," she said, pulling him away from where they'd stopped just inside the door after his announcement. "I'm just a little surprised that my stupid sodding best friend didn't tell me that he was going to work for the best footie club on the planet."
"I love you, too," Merlin said, flagging down a waitress as Elena muscled him into a booth. They ordered two pints before he turned his attention back to her. "I didn't want to say anything until I was sure." And then belatedly, "I wouldn't say the best on the planet. In Albion, maybe."
"Still. It's Camelot United. Do you even know what that means?"
Camelot United was the top club in Albion's Premiere League, arguably the most elite football organization in the world. Merlin smiled up at the waitress as she placed his pint in front of him before turning his attention back to Elena.
"It's just a job. You know I'm not all that into footie, anyway."
"Liar. I know you used to subscribe to MATCH! because you liked looking at all the footballers' bums."
Merlin's head snapped up. "Who told you that?"
"Will." Merlin's other best childhood friend and currently a defender for their hometown side, Ealdor City.
"Will also thinks you're desperate to shag him," Merlin said, smiling smugly when she choked a bit. "I really wouldn't pay him much mind if I were you."
"So you don't like looking at their bums?" she asked, disappointed, like he was the worst gay best friend a girl could have.
"Always been a thigh man, myself," he said. Elena's face brightened, and she clinked her glass against his.
"Cheers to that!"
They were quiet for a few minutes before Elena pressed on. "Details? I assume Gaius was involved."
Gaius was Merlin's uncle and Camelot United’s club physician. He’d been Merlin’s mentor since he was a child and now, largely due to his influence, Merlin was in the final year of his medical degree.
“Yeah, they were looking for a part-time assistant for him, so he called me to see if I was interested. I said no, at first. I didn’t think I’d have the time between clinical training and teaching.”
“Oh,” Elena said, deflating a bit. “That does sound like a lot.”
“It would’ve been, but Gaius arranged it with the uni that my work with the club will qualify as my clinical training. I have a special advisor and still have to go to uni for teaching, but that's it."
"Wow. It helps to have friends in high places."
Merlin smiled. "It also helps that the university will be associated with the club. They're probably thanking their lucky stars that I decided to enrol there."
"Huh," Elena said, sitting back. "What about your--you know," she said, holding her hand out in front of her and wiggling her fingers, "magic."
For as long as he could remember, Merlin had had the ability to heal injuries. His mum told him that she’d first noticed it once when he’d fallen out of his pram as a toddler, scraping up his knees. He’d cried as she fussed about, looking for something to clean the wounds.
But then he’d suddenly stopped, and when she turned around he had his hands on his knees and was smiling up at her. When she moved his hands so she could tend to the scrapes, they’d vanished.
Other incidents had followed. By the time Merlin was set to start school, he knew that he was special. He didn't know where the gift came from or exactly how it worked. It was just this energy living inside him that he could control and use to heal himself and other people. Gaius had been the one to encourage him to go into medicine, so that he could better learn to control and use it properly.
"I'll go about it the same way I always do, I suppose," he said, taking a drink of his beer.
For obvious reasons, he used it sparingly and only to speed up the natural healing process. Anything too drastic would raise suspicions, and Merlin was not someone who liked attention. He also didn’t want to spend the remainder of his days locked in a sterile room being dissected by scientists.
"I can't believe you're going to be working for Camelot United," Elena said dreamily after a moment, staring off into space. "You're going to be in the clubhouse with them. Touching them."
"I imagine so, yes," he said, nonchalant. "Do you want me to give Gwaine your phone number?"
Elena paled. "Don't you dare."
“Oh, come on,” Merlin said, “you’ve been going on about him for two years already. This is the perfect opportunity!”
There'd been many a late evening where Merlin had had to listen to her extolling his virtues. Not that he could really blame her--as far as he could tell from all the pictures he’d seen, the man was bloody gorgeous.
“Merlin, I will kill you.”
"All right,” he said, putting his hands up in mock surrender. “I was just saying. But if you change your mind--"
"No." She cut him off swiftly and changed the subject. "But what about you?"
"What about me?
"Who've you got your eye on? You never did tell me what you thought of that new defender I showed you-- what was his name?--Leon something-or-other...."
"Are you insane? I can't go about seducing people. I'll be working. Besides, they're professional athletes. They're probably all homophobic or severely repressed."
"Will says--"
"What did I just say about listening to Will?"
"--that all the clubs have at least a few gay players, and that the showers are just rife with homosexual activity. Besides," she said, "we know there's at least one player who's not entirely straight."
She was referring to Arthur Pendragon, the club's--and the League's--top striker. Dubbed "The Pride of Albion" at birth, Arthur was the only son of Uther Pendragon, the club’s owner. Having been born locally, he was wildly popular, making it difficult to go anywhere without seeing his face plastered all over everything.
Not that that was a hardship: aside from being talented, he was ridiculously handsome. Merlin had had a secret, terrible crush on him a few years back, spending an entire fortnight trolling the internet for pictures and any gossip he could find. And there was plenty of it.
As talented as he was on the pitch, he was twice as promiscuous off it. Women, men, both at the same time; nothing was off limits for Arthur Pendragon. He had someone different on his arm every week, and just as often as not, that someone was male. Merlin had eventually lost interest, though, too caught up in uni to think about anything else.
“He’s probably trying to be controversial," Merlin said.
"You don't know that. I mean, he’s the first openly bisexual athlete. Attitude called him a pioneer," she said, matter-of-factly.
"Why are you reading gay magazines? I’m gay, and I don't read Attitude."
"I like the pictures," she said with a shrug. "Don't tell me you haven't thought about it. I know you used to fancy him."
"I haven't thought about it," Merlin insisted. "Besides, have you seen the blokes that he's been with? I won't hold my breath."
"You don't give yourself enough credit. I'm sure he'd be glad to bend you over and give you a good rogering."
Merlin paused. "Did you really just say rogering?"
“Would you prefer if I said he'd shag you rotten? Fuck your brains out?"
“Oh God, stop it,” Merlin said, putting his hands over his ears. "I'll not be doing any of those things with Arthur Pendragon, thank you very much."
"We'll see. You'll be gagging for it within a week, I'd bet."
"Ri-ight. So anyway," he went on, steering the conversation away from any thoughts of shagging Arthur Pendragon, "I just have to meet Uther to get the final okay."
"You're meeting Uther? When?"
"Tomorrow morning."
Elena spluttered, waving her hands at him frantically. "What are you doing out drinking? You can't be hung over when you meet Sir Uther Pendragon."
Merlin looked down at his pint, of which he'd drunk roughly a third. "I don't think--"
He stopped abruptly when Elena seized his glass, downing the whole thing in four big gulps. He opened and closed his mouth, unsure what to say. He was--that was--quite impressive, actually.
"Right, then, let's go," she said, wiping her mouth with a napkin. "Time to get you off to bed."
"But it's early," Merlin protested. Elena ignored him, pulling out her mobile to call for a taxi.
"Yes, and by the time we get you home, you'll be able to get a good night's sleep. Come on, then," she said, pulling at his arm until he was forced to stand up or fall out of the booth onto his face. He thought about mentioning that he would probably get home faster on the train, but a taxi did sound nice.
"You're a complete nutter," he said instead as she led him out of the pub and into the warm night air.
"You love me," she replied as she scanned the street for their car.
They waited in companionable silence until it arrived and then piled into the back. Merlin’s flat was closer to the pub, so the taxi stopped there first.
"Now give us a kiss," Elena said, offering up her cheek. Merlin rolled his eyes, but he obliged, giving her a quick peck. She was crazy, but he did indeed love her.
"You'll call when you get home?" he asked as he slid out of the car.
"I'll text you!" she called out the window, waving as they pulled away from the curb. "Let me know what happens tomorrow! Knock him dead!"
5 August 2010
"Merlin, it's Gaius. Just calling to remind you that our appointment with Uther is at eleven. Wear something nice...and for heaven's sake--DON'T BE LATE!"
Merlin was running late. He rushed down the stairs from his flat, taking them two at a time, a half-eaten piece of toast clamped between his teeth. By some miracle of nature, he made it to the ground floor without breaking his neck. He burst out onto the street and straight into a woman walking a tiny dog.
"Sorry, so sorry," he huffed, helping set her to rights while trying to avoid getting bitten by the vicious little beast. Once she was on her way, her evil, evil dog having appropriated the toast he'd dropped, he checked his watch. Twenty minutes to make a trip that took thirty--he'd never make it if he had to wait for a train.
By sheer dumb luck, he spotted a taxi dropping someone off down the road. He jumped out in front of it as it pulled away from the curb, nearly getting hit in the process. He ignored the blaring horn as he rushed around and threw himself into the back seat.
"To the stadium, please, as fast as you can," he said before the driver could turn around and yell at him. He sank back against the seat and took a few deep breaths, trying to calm his racing heart. He was starting to sweat, and rubbed his damp palms against his thighs.
It wasn't that he was nervous, exactly--well, maybe a little--but Merlin hated interviews. Regardless of his confidence in his abilities, he always felt awkward and unsure no matter how much he prepared.
The taxi pulled up by the public entrance to the stadium. Another quick glance at his watch told him he had two minutes to spare. It turned out that the entrance for the executive offices were on the other side of the stadium, so by the time Merlin made it into the lift to take him up to Uther's office, he was five minutes late.
He used the ride to straighten himself up, trying to flatten out his hair and bracing himself for Gaius's disapproving look. He wasn't disappointed: Gaius's eyebrow shot up the moment Merlin was ushered into the waiting room.
"I'm sorry," Merlin said, trying to strike pre-emptively. "I was attacked by a dog."
Not precisely true, but it was as good an excuse as any. He suspected it wouldn't make a difference had he been caught in a freak elephant stampede on the high street.
"Hmm," Gaius answered, looking him up and down. "Couldn't have been that bad; you appear to have escaped relatively unscathed."
"You know me," Merlin said with a grin, "fast as lightning."
Gaius rolled his eyes and stood up. "Luckily for you, Uther hasn't called us in yet."
He straightened Merlin's collar and smoothed down the fabric of his jumper over his shoulders. Merlin smiled at his uncle's fussing. They weren’t actually related by blood, but Merlin loved him fiercely. He knew Gaius had pushed hard to give him this chance, so he did not want to disappoint him.
"Thank you," he said, "for arranging this. It'll certainly be more fun than running around a hospital all year."
Apparently satisfied that Merlin was presentable, Gaius led him to a sleek leather sofa set against the wall.
"It'll be hard work as well," Gaius said. "But good experience for you, especially if you're still thinking about specializing in orthopaedics."
"I am," Merlin confirmed. His choice of specialty had probably been the main reason he'd been considered for the job. Bone and muscle injuries responded particularly well to his magic, and he’d see plenty of both working for a professional football club.
Gaius nodded, patting him on the knee. Merlin took a moment to compose himself, looking around the waiting room. The secretary was sat across from them behind her huge desk. She was a stern-looking woman, her hair done up in a severe bun.
On the wall directly above her was a club photograph. All the players and staff were lined up in rows, smiling out at the camera. The other walls were covered in action photos of individual players--Merlin recognized Gwaine and Arthur, of course, but he didn't know many of the others.
"Mr. Pendragon will see you now," the secretary announced, hanging up her phone and standing. "Follow me, please."
Merlin's palms went damp again as they followed her through two sets of heavy wood doors. As owner of Camelot United (and about half the city of Camelot itself), Uther Pendragon was one of the most powerful men in the country. In the entire world, probably.
His office was huge, larger than Merlin's entire flat. It was sparsely furnished, just a sofa and coffee table at one end and Uther's desk at the other, with two chairs for visitors in front of it. Uther sat behind his desk, scribbling away at a pad of paper.
"Your eleven o'clock, Mr. Pendragon."
"Thank you, Katrina. That'll be all." He waved at her dismissively, and she dutifully disappeared. Looking up at them briefly, he indicated the chairs in front of his desk. “Sit.”
Merlin wasn't listening, his eyes glued to the floor-to-ceiling window behind Uther that looked out over the pitch. He might not follow the game religiously like most people he knew, but the view still took his breath away.
“Wow,” he said under his breath as Gaius finally ushered him to his chair. Uther looked up from his paper. Apparently awestruck was an appropriate reaction, as he gave Merlin an approving nod.
“Impressive, isn't it?”
“It's incredible,” Merlin said, picturing what it must look like on a match day. “Do you watch the matches from here?”
“Occasionally. I usually watch from one of the suites,” he replied, setting down his pen. “Do you follow Camelot United?”
“I'm more of an Ealdor City fan,” Merlin replied, still too distracted by the view to pay attention to what he was saying. Uther made a face like he'd just tasted something exceptionally disgusting. “That's where I'm from,” Merlin said, trying not to sound defensive. “But since I've been at uni I don't really have the time to follow anyone.”
“Gaius tells me you're at Albion University.” Uther reached for a folder sitting at the edge of his desk. He flipped it open, scanning the top page of its contents briefly.
"Yes, sir." Merlin sat up a bit straighter, proud. Albion was the top course in the country.
“Merlin is very gifted,” Gaius cut in. “His clinical training is progressing quite nicely, and his director tells me he's the best in his year. Unofficially, of course.”
“Of course,” Uther said, still looking through the folder. Merlin wondered if he'd somehow got a hold of his records. “But you do realize that you won't be working with ordinary patients here, as you have in hospital.” He got up from his chair and walked to the window. “These are some of the world's best athletes. With millions of pounds at risk, I cannot afford any mistakes born from inexperience.”
“Yes, sir," Merlin said again, trying to sound agreeable. From the look Gaius shot him, he'd missed the mark.
“We usually require that our physicians have years of experience beyond their education. Unfortunately, we’ve recently lost several staff members and are short staffed. Gaius has spoken strongly on your behalf, and you have excellent recommendations from your clinical supervisors. As such, I am prepared to overlook your lack of practical experience.”
“Thank you."
“This is a very important season for the club, and for my son and me," Uther continued, and then looked at Gaius. "I expect you to be available to Arthur for whatever he needs, so you can sort out Mr. Emrys's responsibilities however you like to ensure that that happens." Turning back to Merlin, he said, "You will start on Monday. The club generally has practice every morning except for Wednesday, but that can change."
“Thank you,” Merlin said again, “I really appreciate your giving me a chance.”
“Don't make me regret it,” Uther said ominously, with the air of a man who could ruin someone's life if he saw fit. Merlin had no doubt at all that he could, and would, so he just nodded and stood up when Gaius did and followed him to the door.
“And Gaius,” Uther said when they were almost to the door, “Arthur’s knee is bothering him again. See what you can do about it.”
"Of course, I'll speak with him right away," Gaius said and then pulled the door closed behind him. Once they were clear of the reception area, Merlin let out a long, shaky breath.
“That went...well?” he asked, not really sure. Gaius smiled at him.
“I've been working for Uther for many years, Merlin. That went very well. Come, I'll show you around.”
“What did he mean about Arthur's knee?” Merlin asked as they walked to the lift. “Has he had problems with it?”
“It's an old injury,” Gaius said evasively, as though that were even possible at Arthur’s age. "It acts up every now and then." Merlin arched an eyebrow, but let it go. “You'll have to be especially careful around Arthur,” Gaius continued. “Don't tend to him without me; Uther will have your head if anything happens to him.”
"Fine by me. He's all yours.”
Gaius waited until they were on the lift to speak again. "I know I don't have to caution you about drawing attention to yourself--"
Merlin knew what was coming and automatically bristled. "Gaius--"
"-but subtlety has never been your strongest suit," Gaius continued, ignoring him. "I don't want to be worried that you're going to do something to reveal yourself."
"I haven't so far," Merlin said, watching the numbers tick down as the lift descended.
“I know,” Gaius said, putting a placating hand on his shoulder, “but you'll be under a lot of scrutiny here, much more than you would be even at hospital. You're exceptionally talented, Merlin, but you can't afford to raise suspicions.”
“I know,” Merlin muttered. He’d heard this particular lecture hundreds of times from both Gaius and his mother. Gaius continued, ignoring Merlin’s surly tone.
“Uther is a very...superstitious man, and I can't imagine he would be very open-minded about it. I know it's frustrating,” Gaius continued as they stepped off the lift. "I know you'd never agree not to use it, and I would never ask that of you, but promise me that you'll be careful."
“I promise I'll be careful.”
“And that you'll stay out of trouble.”
“I'll try."
Gaius looked ready to say something else, but then someone behind them called Gaius's name. They both turned at the same time, and Merlin immediately recognized the man jogging down the corridor toward them. It was impossible not to-pictures of him were plastered on nearly every surface in Elena’s room.
His stomach gave a nervous flutter as Gwaine approached. It was one thing to know peripherally that he'd be working with people that he saw on the telly and in magazines; it was entirely different to have one of them standing right in front of him. It was completely and utterly surreal.
Gwaine was just as gorgeous in person as he was in print. There was something very rogue-ish about him that appealed to Merlin. There had to be some sort of aesthetic requirement to play for the club, like an "anyone who wouldn't look equally as good modelling men’s underwear need not apply" sort of thing.
Thankfully, Gaius spoke up and distracted him before he could start to ponder just how good Gwaine would look modelling said underwear.
"Gwaine," Gaius said, "what are you still doing here? Practice ended hours ago."
"I stayed behind to do a bit of training."
"Nothing too strenuous, I hope," Gaius said.
Gwaine grinned, shrugging, before turning his gaze curiously to Merlin.
Gaius put a hand on Merlin’s shoulder. "This is Merlin, my nephew. He's going to be an assistant medic for the club this season."
Gwaine offered his hand. His smile was easy and wide, putting Merlin at ease. "Nice to meet you. I'm Gwaine."
"Yeah," Merlin said, "you, too."
"Merlin is starting on Monday, so I thought I'd show him around a bit before getting back to work," Gaius continued once they'd finished their greeting.
"Oh," Gwaine said, "I could take him around, if you have work to do."
Merlin's eyebrow arched in surprise, but Gaius just smiled. "Actually, that'd be lovely. Do you mind, Merlin?"
As if.
"No, not at all. I'll see you on Monday?"
"At 9:30," Gaius said, giving him a pointed look. "Not 9:35, mind you."
"All right, all right, I said I was sorry," Merlin said, letting Gaius pull him into a brief hug. "Go on, then, I don't want to keep you."
He waved them off, and then Gwaine turned to him, clapping his hands together.
"Come on, the clubhouse is this way," he said, and Merlin turned to follow. After a minute of comfortable silence he said, "So, Gaius's assistant, huh? How'd you swing that? You look a little young to be a doctor."
"Gaius is an old family friend. I’m in the last year of my degree. This is to be my clinical training."
"You must be the envy of your mates," Gwaine said while leading him into the clubhouse.
"I expect that'll be the case, yeah. Wow," Merlin said, looking around, "never thought I'd see the inside of one of these."
"You don't play?"
"No, the only time I ever tried, I spent more time on the ground than on my feet. I did manage to score once, though. For the other side."
Gwaine laughed loudly. "I'll keep that in mind if we're ever a man down--don't ask Merlin to fill in. Do you follow the club, at least?" he asked, guiding Merlin into a room off the main space, which housed several large stretching tables and cabinets that Merlin suspected were filled with medical supplies.
"Not really," Merlin admitted, pulling open one of the cabinets and taking stock of its contents. "I grew up in Ealdor, so I mostly followed them until I came here for school."
"Ah, the enemy," Gwaine said good-naturedly, hopping up to sit on a nearby table.
Merlin shrugged. "My best friend plays for them. He was always the one with the big footie dreams."
"Oh? Who?"
"Will Turner."
“Like the pirate?”
Merlin rolled his eyes. “Don’t get me started. He’s been impossible ever since those bloody movies came out.”
"He's a defender, right?" Gwaine asked seriously, rubbing his chin.
"That's him," Merlin said, closing up the cabinet and looking at Gwaine. "Are you from Camelot?"
"Nah, I always hated the city," Gwaine replied. "I grew up on an estate out in the country.”
“Oh, posh boy,” Merlin said, relaxed enough by now to tease a bit. He paused, remembering something Elena had once mentioned. “Wait, isn’t your father a Duke or something?”
“Yeah, he is.”
“Why the bloody hell are you playing football then? Shouldn't you be off, I don’t know, shooting things? Ordering your servants about?”
“Because it pisses my father the hell off,” Gwaine said, devilish grin returning.
“I’ve never met a member of the nobility before. What does that make you, then? A Marquess? Do I need to call you ‘My Lord’ or something?”
Gwaine threw his head back, laughing, and wow, was he handsome. “Gwaine is fine. I only ever pull rank with Arthur when his head gets a little too big.”
“Oh?”
“They may call him ‘The Prince’ around here, but I actually do outrank him,” Gwaine said with a wink. Merlin tried not to blush.
“That happen often?”
“He’s all right once you get to know him,” Gwaine said vaguely. “It’s his father who’s really a piece of work.”
Merlin was about to ask for clarification, but Gwaine jumped down off the table. “Enough of that,” he said, “time to continue the tour!”
Merlin was a bit disappointed, but he followed Gwaine readily out of the room. He got the “greatest hits” tour, as Gwaine called it, or just enough for Merlin to more or less know where everything important was. Conversation flowed easily between them, and Merlin completely lost all of his earlier nerves, and even began looking forward to returning on Monday.
"So, any advice?" Merlin asked as they were walking toward the exit.
"What do you mean?"
"You know, for dealing with the other players. I know what it's like when there's a newcomer about."
"That's true," Gwaine said, "but we've got mostly good guys here, even if they try and take the piss out of you a bit.” He paused for a moment, and then, “Maybe stay away from Bors. And Gareth. Other than that, you should be fine.”
"Bors and Gareth, got it," Merlin said, squinting up into the sunlight when they got outside. "Well, thanks for showing me about. I appreciate it."
"No worries," Gwaine said, clapping him forcefully on the shoulder. Merlin barely managed to stay upright. "I'll see you on Monday, yeah?"
"Yeah, see you then," Merlin called as they went their separate ways. Grinning, he turned and started for the nearest train station.
“Hi," he said as soon as Elena picked up the phone.
“What happened?" she asked, sounding satisfyingly breathless.
“We-ell…,” he drawled, trying to draw out the suspense.
“Merlin, if you don’t tell me what happened this instant, I will come over there and kick you in the bollocks.”
“All right, all right,” he said, knowing that she would actually do it. “I got it!”
She shrieked so loudly he had to yank the phone away from his ear. “Tell me everything that happened right now,” she demanded when his ear stopped ringing. “Every single second."
"What's in it for me?"
"I'll bring liquor and some DVDs. And nail varnish. We can have cocktails and I'll do your nails while you tell me everything."
"...I'm not actually a girl, you know."
"Whatever, I'll bring black. You know you secretly love it because it makes you feel all emo and rebellious. I'll be there in less than an hour."
Forty-seven minutes later, Merlin heard the pounding on his door. He'd just finished getting dressed after a quick shower, so he padded out into the hall and pulled the door open. Elena immediately shoved two paper bags at him, one of them clinking promisingly.
"What did you bring?" he asked, peering into it as she turned him around and steered him into the sitting room.
"Rum, lots of rum, because I know it's your favourite. Now you just relax," she said, pushing him onto the couch, "and I will fix us some drinks."
"Sounds good to me," Merlin said, stretching out across the cushions. Elena came back a few minutes later with the drinks, put the first disc of Torchwood Series 2 into the DVD player, and settled on the floor next to the couch.
"Okay," she said, unscrewing the varnish cap. "Start at the beginning."
8 August 2010
Merlin stood quietly next to Gaius as Uther addressed the club. He'd spent the weekend learning everything he could about the club--names, medical histories, and anything else he thought would be helpful. Gaius's meticulous records had been a big help; Google had taken care of the rest. He could now name most of the faces he saw as he scanned the room.
One face he didn't need any help recognizing, of course, was Arthur Pendragon's. The handsome blond had commanded all of Merlin’s attention the moment he’d walked into the clubhouse.
He’d been going over recent injury reports with Gaius when his magic had stirred unbidden, surprising him. He’d looked up to find Arthur standing there, eyeing him critically for a moment before ignoring him to talk to Gaius, who’d just shrugged apologetically.
Now Arthur was sat sprawling on the dressing bench, shirtless, and he kept looking at Merlin. Not the quick, curious glances he’d been getting from some of the other players. No, Arthur was watching him in a lingering, assessing sort of way.
It made Merlin distinctly uncomfortable. His magic was still humming under his skin, and he had to clasp his twitching fingers tightly behind his back as he tried to focus on Uther.
"I know that I do not need to stress to you how very important this season is to the club," he was saying, "so I expect everyone to do their part to ensure Arthur's success."
Merlin risked a quick glance at Arthur, who was now looking at his father, his cheeks a bit pink, his gaze--angry? He made a mental note to ask Gaius later what that was all about.
Uther finished up his speech with more talk about pride and glory and other things that Merlin wasn't altogether interested in. When he was done, Gaius stepped forward to take advantage of the still mostly captive audience.
"Just a quick word, if I could, before you all go about your preparations," he said, and the rustling that had started when Uther finished speaking stopped.
"As you all know, we are short-staffed medically this year, and it's a bit of a chore for this old body to keep up with all of you," he continued, drawing a chuckle. "So Uther has allowed me to take on an assistant until more permanent arrangements can be made."
He gripped Merlin by the shoulder and pulled him forward. "This is Merlin. He'll be available to help with minor injuries and any day-to-day maintenance you might require. I will still be available, of course, to assist with more serious problems. Though let's try and keep those to a minimum this season, shall we?"
Merlin had pasted a generic smile onto his face as soon as Gaius started to speak, and he tried to maintain it while everyone's attention focused on him. Gwaine winked at him, which helped a bit.
Introduction over, Merlin retreated to the far end of the room where two of the massage tables had been set up. He was crouched down by the floor, packing up a supply bag for the pitch when he felt a presence at his back.
"Made it through the introduction, then,” Gwaine said, nudging him with a knee. Merlin smiled up at him.
"I didn't look too terrified, did I?"
"Only a little," Gwaine replied, and Merlin was once again grateful for his friendly, open nature. "Have a good weekend?"
"Very exciting--I spent most of it reading about you lot."
"Nothing too sordid, I hope."
"Oh, lots," Merlin said, mock seriously, "I know all your dirty secrets now, you'd better be careful."
Merlin was vaguely aware that he was flirting, but Gwaine didn't seem to notice, or mind it if he did. "Wanker," he said. "I don't have any secrets."
"Everyone has secrets," Merlin said, looking down at the open bag in front of him.
"Not me, I'm an open book," Gwaine said. "But enough idle chit chat. I require medical attention.” He nudged Merlin again. “Attend me, peasant.”
“And here I thought you were a nice rich person.”
“Oh, I’m nice all right,” was the reply, suggestive enough that Merlin had to fight to keep the blush off his face. He turned his attention back to the supply bag.
“What do you need?”
“An ankle wrap.”
Merlin shifted forward onto his knees, fishing a bandage out of the bag. “Something wrong with it?”
"Recovering from a bit of a sprain. No big deal," Gwaine said as he hoisted himself onto the table.
"Does it hurt?" he asked, taking the proffered foot and probing lightly at Gwaine's ankle.
"No, just a bit weak."
“You probably started back on it too soon,” Merlin said, a bit of censure in his voice.
“Spare me, I’ve already heard it from Gaius.”
Merlin hummed in response, his attention focused on the tendons around the joint. He could sense that the sprain was worse than Gwaine was letting on, and that the ankle wasn’t anywhere near recovered enough for him to be running on it. Bloody athletic types, Merlin thought. Too macho for their own good.
He wrapped his hand around the joint, using a bit of magic to help strengthen it and speed up the healing process. When he was satisfied, he started winding the bandage around it.
"Your hands are very warm," Gwaine remarked, causing Merlin to look up. Gwaine was watching his hands intently, a small crease between his eyebrows.
"Good circulation," he said, giving his standard excuse. It was an effect of the magic: it warmed his palms when he used it. He secured the fasteners to the end of the bandage. "How's that feel?" he asked as Gwaine stood up and tested the fit.
"Great, actually--feels real good."
"Take it easy, though, would you? You're going to wind up re-injuring yourself."
"Yes, mother."
"All right, run along then," Merlin said, shooing him with his hands. "I'm terribly busy."
Gwaine departed with a two-fingered salute, leaving Merlin smiling. He went back to packing the bag, but was interrupted again a few minutes later by someone else seeking a wrap, and then by someone who needed help stretching a tetchy calf muscle, and before he knew it nearly an hour had passed.
"Well, you were certainly busy," Gaius said approvingly once the last player had departed.
"Yeah, that wasn't so bad," Merlin said, standing from where he'd been crouched cleaning up. "I was expecting them to be a bit more resistant to my help."
"Oh, well, you know how it goes--once one person breaks the ice, everyone else is much more inclined to follow suit."
"I guess you're right," Merlin said slowly, realizing what Gwaine had done. It looked like he had yet another reason to be grateful to his new friend.
"If you're done in here, we can go out to the pitch now so you can watch for a while," Gaius said, a hint of a smile tugging at his lips. Merlin quickly chucked everything he was holding back onto the floor.
"Lead the way!"
Two hours later, Merlin's head was still buzzing with the excitement of being out on the pitch. He'd stayed out for the entire practice, watching as the players went through drill after drill before eventually falling into an informal scrimmage. It was amazing to be so close to it all--he'd pinched himself once just to make sure he wasn't actually dreaming.
He was carrying a large box full of supplies from the storeroom to the clubhouse when he heard raucous laughter down one of the side corridors. Curious, he detoured toward the noise, peering around a corner. What he saw made his heart drop down into his stomach.
Arthur and two of his teammates--Bors and Gareth, unsurprisingly--stood surrounding a younger boy, who was red faced and breathing heavily. As Merlin watched, Gareth tossed a set of keys over the boy's head to Arthur. Arthur held them up for everyone to see.
"Come on, then," he said, jiggling the keys tauntingly, "catch them."
He threw them to Bors, and though the boy made a valiant leap, they were still just out of his reach. Bors himself had to stretch up to grab them. The three players laughed at the boy's attempt, calling out to him mockingly.
After two more throws, Merlin had seen enough. He set his box down and came fully around the corner. Luckily, Gareth spotted him just as he threw the keys, so his aim was a bit off. They arced away from Arthur and toward Merlin, and he came up behind Arthur and snatched them out of the air before Arthur had the chance. Arthur turned to look at him, surprised.
"All right, that's enough, you've had your fun," Merlin said, his heart giving a nervous thump. He smiled at the boy, recognizing him now as one of the equipment hands he’d met earlier. "These are yours, I take it?"
"Yeah, thanks," he said. He shot Merlin a quick look of gratitude before running off, leaving Merlin alone with three large, annoyed footballers.
"Was that really necessary?" he asked, directing the question at Arthur.
"Was it necessary for you to stick your nose where it didn't belong?" Arthur shot back, an unattractive sneer on his face.
"He was just trying to do his job. There was no reason to be giving him a hard time." Merlin turned back toward the corridor he'd come from, eager to get somewhere more populated in case the players decided to take out their excess energy on him.
"Sure there was," Arthur said, following at a distance. "It was fun."
Something in Merlin's stomach twisted at the smugness in Arthur's voice, and he found his anger rising. Even so, he picked up his box calmly and said, "Of course--what was I thinking? You wouldn't know a sodding thing about having to work hard, would you?"
Arthur stopped dead in his tracks. "What's that supposed to mean?"
"People look up to you, you know," Merlin said, ignoring Arthur's question. "They love you. It's disappointing to find out that you're not worthy of it."
Bors and Gareth exchanged glances behind Arthur, whose face had gone red. "You don't know a fucking thing about me."
Merlin smiled at him, sadly. "I think I know enough," he replied, and then turned his back on the trio, ignoring Arthur's "Oi!" as he walked quickly toward the clubhouse.
Arthur caught up with him there, slamming the doors open. "Don't you dare walk away from me when I'm talking to you."
"You know,” Merlin said, tossing the box onto the ground. "I can see that it doesn't matter to you, but some of us actually have work to do."
"You can't talk to me like that," Arthur said haughtily, all entitlement and arrogance. Merlin couldn’t hold back his contempt any longer.
"Or what?" he snapped. "You'll run and tell your daddy and have me fired?"
A hush fell over the room, which was still half full of players winding down from practice. Merlin spotted Gwaine out of the corner of his eye, rising slowly to his feet.
The momentary distraction cost him; the next thing he knew, he was shoved hard, sending him tumbling backwards over the box he'd left in the middle of the floor. Gareth and Bors burst into loud laughter. There were a few other titters, but for the most part everyone remained silent, waiting to see what would happen.
A bit dazed (and a lot embarrassed), Merlin realized that this moment would dictate the way that every person in the room saw him--his reaction to Arthur's bullying would determine whether the players would take him seriously or just write him off as some transient unworthy of their attention.
It would most certainly get him fired, but Merlin would rather empty bedpans in hospital day and night than have anyone here think him a coward.
He stood slowly, brushing off his trousers and walking calmly toward Arthur. He was laughing with his two minions, obviously having decided that Merlin would just crawl away and take it.
"Excuse me," he said, waiting for Arthur to turn toward him before placing his hands on his chest and shoving as hard as he could. Someone gasped as Arthur flew backwards, landing hard on his back with a groan. He looked up at Merlin, stunned.
"Anything else?" Merlin asked calmly, dropping into a mock bow. "Or will that be all, my lord?"
Arthur suddenly kicked his leg out, sweeping Merlin's feet out from under him. Before he even knew what was happening, they were rolling around on the floor in a tangle of limbs. Merlin had never been in a fight before, so he focused mainly on not getting hit while simultaneously flailing his fists about in the hopes that they'd hit something. Preferably Arthur's smug, stupid face.
He was partially successful on both counts. Arthur managed to hit him clean only twice: once on the mouth, splitting his lip, and then he caught him high on his cheek. Merlin saw stars as the pain exploding across his face.
Blindly, he threw his fist out as hard as he could and connected with a solid thwap, making Arthur yelp. Merlin got in one more good shot to Arthur's jaw before Arthur was abruptly hauled off him. Someone grabbed Merlin as well, dragging him backwards and up onto his feet.
His ear was ringing from how hard Arthur had hit him, so he couldn't hear what Arthur was shouting at him. He started shouting back anyway, hurling any insults he could think of, until the doors to the clubhouse flew open and hit the walls with a resounding crack. Everyone stopped and turned to see Uther Pendragon standing in the doorway, his eyes screaming absolute bloody murder at Merlin.
"What," he asked, "is the meaning of this?"
Merlin opened his mouth to give him a good earful about what a complete arse his son was, but the arm wrapped around his chest--Gwaine's, he realized--tightened, cutting off his air supply. Arthur was too busy glaring at Merlin to reply. Uther's nostrils flared as he inhaled sharply.
"Clean yourselves up, and then I want to see both of you upstairs in my office."
Merlin winced as Gaius dabbed at the cut on his face.
"Ow!" he said, glaring at his uncle.
"Don’t start. What on earth were you thinking?"
"He started it!"
"This isn't primary school, Merlin. You're expected to act like an adult, not get into petty playground squabbles. You promised me you'd stay out of trouble."
"Look, I'm sorry, all right?" Merlin said, feeling a stab of guilt. "But he was bullying this poor kid, and I intervened. I walked away after, I swear I did, but then he followed me and wouldn't leave it. He shoved me. What was I supposed to do?"
"You were supposed to keep your head about you. He's Uther Pendragon's son."
"I don't care if he's the bloody Prime Minister’s son," Merlin said hotly. "I am not a coward, and I won't have anyone treat me like I'm worthless."
Gaius looked at him long and hard and then sighed. "What am I going to do with you?"
"I'm sorry," Merlin repeated, aware that this would reflect poorly on his uncle. "But he's a spoilt, arrogant prat."
"He's not usually this bad," Gaius said, dabbing at Merlin's face again, much gentler this time. "He's under a tremendous amount of pressure. Especially this year."
Remembering Uther's remark from earlier in the day, Merlin asked, "What did Uther mean this morning? When he was talking about helping Arthur succeed, or whatever."
Gaius paused to look at him. "You don't know?"
"I know that Uther keeps mentioning how important this year is, but that’s about it."
Gaius sighed, tossing the gauze into the disposal bin. "Arthur is on the verge of making history."
"As the biggest prat on the face of the planet?" Merlin asked, unable to help himself. He put on a contrite face when Gaius glared at him.
"He could become the youngest player ever to score 100 goals in professional competition."
Merlin frowned. "Actually, I think I remember reading something about that. So what, though?”
"It may not seem that big a deal to you, Merlin, but I assure you it is quite a remarkable feat."
"Fine, but I still don’t see why everyone’s knickers have to be in a twist because he got what was coming to him."
“He has to stay healthy the entire season if he’s to break the record. What if he'd been injured during your little scrum?"
Merlin looked down at himself, and then up at his uncle in disbelief. "You're joking, yeah? He's got several stone on me. If anyone was in danger of getting hurt, it was me."
Gaius finally gave him a small smile. "You appear to have held up well enough."
"World record or no, he’s still an arse,” he said sulkily, even though he was starting to see his uncle’s point. “Why should I care if he gets all the glory?"
"Merlin," Gaius said, "it's not just about Arthur. It's about Camelot--the club's fans, Arthur's fans--there are a lot of people who are excited about this, who want him to succeed. He doesn't want to let anyone down; it's a tremendous responsibility."
Merlin thought back to what he’d said to Arthur about not deserving the adoration heaped upon him. "Do you think he really cares about them? His fans?"
"I know that he does. You may think him a prat, and he may very well be at times, but he's always lovely to his fans. He considers it his duty to give them something to be proud of."
"I understand," Merlin said quietly. It didn't change the fact that Arthur was, at heart, an entitled, self-centred twat, but it was nice to know he at least appreciated the people who put him where he was.
"Good," Gaius said, straightening up. "Time to face the music. Uther is waiting."
Merlin was admitted immediately to Uther's office. Arthur was already there, along with a strikingly beautiful young woman with long, dark hair and eyes so green Merlin could see them clear across the room. She was currently examining Arthur's face.
"Shouldn't be too difficult to explain away, given some of the things--and people--you've pulled. This will seem tame by comparison."
Uther stood behind his desk, looking tired. "Morgana--"
The door clicked shut loudly behind Merlin, drawing everyone's attention. Uther's face immediately turned thunderous. "You--"
"--must be Merlin," Morgana said, striding confidently over to him. "Morgana Le Fay," she said, offering her hand. "I do public relations for the club."
"Nice to meet you," Merlin said, shaking her hand. He saw how this might be a bit of a publicity problem and was slightly afraid that this woman would skin him alive. She had a ruthless quality about her.
"Come in," she said, taking him by the arm in a surprisingly gentle grip, "while we figure out how we're going to deal with this."
"I'll tell you how we're going to deal with it," Uther began, still glaring at Merlin, which he thought was rather unfair given that they hadn't yet heard his side of the story. Arthur had probably been feeding them a big pile of lies.
"You punched my brother," Morgana said, cutting in before Uther could get going.
"He's your brother?" Merlin asked, surprised. They looked nothing alike.
"Step-brother," she said, waving her hand dismissively, "whatever. You hit him."
"Yes."
"You gave him a black eye."
Merlin looked at Arthur for the first time. His left eye was swollen shut, the start of what would indeed be an impressive shiner. Feeling rather proud of that, he stood up a bit straighter and looked Morgana directly in the eye when he answered, "Yes."
"Did he deserve it?"
"Absolutely."
Uther spluttered, but Morgana held her hand up and silenced him immediately. Merlin’s mind boggled at the power. He tried not to fidget while she studied his face, and then she broke into a wide grin.
"I like you," she announced. "I think we're going to be good friends."
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Arthur roll his good eye.
"You most certainly will not," Uther snapped, apparently having had it with being ignored. "How dare you?" he asked, turning the full force of his ire on Merlin, "how dare you do this? After the opportunity I gave you, this is how you repay me? Attacking my son like some...some ruffian?"
"Attacking?" Merlin spluttered. "Is that what he told you? I--"
"Silence!" Uther said, slamming his hands on his desk. "You will not talk back to me."
This was starting to go much more the way Merlin had anticipated. "Yes, sir."
"You are dismissed. Effective immediately. I want you out of this stadium within the hour. Is that understood?"
Merlin bit the inside of his cheek, surprised at the crushing disappointment he felt. It wasn't like he hadn't been expecting this. He nodded.
"I've half a mind to take this up with Gaius as well," Uther continued. "Apparently I was wrong to trust his judgment."
His stomach sinking with dread, Merlin opened his mouth to protest. He was cut off by Arthur.
"Father."
Uther looked at his son, his glare softening a little, but not much. "What?"
"It was my fault."
Merlin's mouth fell open in shock. Uther looked equally stunned, while Morgana just looked suspicious.
"What are you talking about?" Uther snapped.
"I can't allow you to punish Gaius, or Merlin, for something that was my fault."
Merlin was caught somewhere between disbelief that Arthur was actually defending him and the completely surreal experience of hearing his name come out of Arthur Pendragon's mouth.
"What do you mean it was your fault?"
Arthur cleared his throat. "Some of the other players and I, we were...teasing one of the equipment hands, and Merlin intervened. I reacted poorly."
"So you started the altercation."
"I pushed him, yes."
Merlin couldn't believe his ears--was Arthur actually trying to save his job? Uther was apparently also dumbfounded, because he turned to Merlin for confirmation.
"Is this true?"
"Um--yes. Yes, it is."
Uther looked almost disappointed. "Oh. Well, then."
"I suppose Merlin isn't fired, in that case?" Morgana asked, winking at Merlin.
"No, I suppose not," Uther said. "But I am warning you,” he continued, placing his hands flat on the desk and leaning forward, "that this is your final chance. I will not tolerate fighting of any sort, and if something like this happens again, you will be finished. No matter who is at fault. Is that understood?"
"Understood," Merlin said quickly.
"You may go," Uther said. "Not you, Arthur," he interjected when Arthur turned toward the door. Merlin paused on his way out to look back--Uther's anger was obviously directed at Arthur now.
"Come on," Morgana said quietly, appearing beside him. "I'll walk out with you."
"Is he going to get into trouble?" Merlin asked, feeling inexplicably guilty. Morgana's grimace was confirmation enough.
"It's not really that big of a deal," Merlin continued as she ushered them toward the lift. "He shouldn't be too hard on him."
"Uther is always hard on him. It's nothing new, don't worry."
Still, Merlin couldn't help but feel that this was partly his fault. "I think I'm going to wait. You know, make sure everything's all right," he clarified when Morgana shot him a confused look.
"You don't have to--"
"I know. I want to."
She tilted her head, considering, before smiling at him. "It was nice meeting you. I hope to see you around."
"You, too," he said, genuinely. He waited until she got on the lift and then turned back, sitting himself in the waiting room, ignoring the disapproving murmur from Uther's secretary.
It was nearly a half hour before Arthur came out, red-faced and looking tired. Merlin stood up, and Arthur started when he saw him.
"What are you still doing here?" he asked, a scowl starting to form. "Stayed behind to gloat, have you?"
"What? No, I--I wanted to make sure that you--that everything was all right."
Arthur gave him an odd look and walked past him out into the corridor. Merlin followed.
"What do you care?" Arthur threw back over his shoulder. "You've still got your job."
"Thank you for that, by the way," Merlin said. The words tasted a bit bitter coming out, but Arthur hadn't actually had to intercede on his behalf. "I know you didn't have to say anything."
"Yes, well, next time mind your own sodding business, and we won't have to go through something like this," Arthur said, jabbing angrily at the button.
"Yes, well, next time perhaps you shouldn’t be such a gigantic arse," Merlin shot back at him, his temper getting up again as the doors opened.
"Are you always this annoying?" Arthur asked, exasperated.
"Are you always this much of a prat?" Merlin snapped. Arthur didn't appear to have an answer, other than to look at Merlin again. He thought he saw the corners of Arthur's mouth twitch, but decided he must have been seeing things. “Why did you intervene, then, if I’m so annoying?”
Arthur didn’t answer, and they rode the rest of the way in a tense silence. Right before the doors opened, Arthur said, "There's something about you, Merlin."
Merlin blinked. What did that even mean? It was probably an insult, like Merlin had some sort of mental affliction, but before Merlin could come up with a retort, Arthur was out of the lift. He followed, scowling, trying to catch up, until they ran into Gwaine.
"Is everything all right?" he asked. The question was for both of them, but he was looking at Merlin. Arthur's good eye darted quickly back and forth between them, a small crease appearing between his brows before vanishing. He clapped Gwaine on the shoulder.
"Fine," Arthur said, which Merlin immediately wanted to argue, because everything was most certainly not fine, thank you very much. "I'll see you tomorrow, yeah?"
Gwaine nodded. He turned to Merlin, who was busy glaring at Arthur, annoyed that he'd gotten the last word. "Merlin?"
"Yeah?"
"All right?"
Merlin shook himself. "Fine, fine. I've not been fired yet."
"That's great.” Gwaine said, grinning. "So what happened?"
"Oh. Well, technically he did fire me, but then Arthur interceded on my behalf, oddly enough, so I was un-fired."
"I told you, he’s all right once you get to know him," Gwaine said.
"Sorry, don't buy it." After all, it wasn’t as thought he’d be getting to know Arthur at all, not after the day’s events.
"He saved your job."
"Which wouldn't have been in jeopardy had it not been for him," Merlin reminded him. "They shouldn't have been picking on that kid."
Gwaine shifted uneasily from foot to foot. "I know it's hard to believe when you see things like that."
"A bit."
“He was an arse the first time I met him, too,” Gwaine conceded. “But once you prove yourself, he's fine."
"I have to prove myself? What is this, Fight Club?"
Gwaine laughed. "Certainly didn’t look like it earlier. You fight like a complete girl."
"You’d better watch it--I gave the mighty Arthur Pendragon a black eye."
"I think that was more luck than anything. Besides, you can’t hit a member of the nobility. I’m pretty sure that’s punishable offence.”
"Probably. I'm a lover, anyway, not a fighter," he said, blushing when Gwaine quirked an eyebrow. "I've never been in a fight before. I just didn't want everyone thinking I was some pansy who can't stick up for himself."
"You did the right thing, I think. The general consensus seems to be that you're a bit of an idiot, but a brave one."
"Great," Merlin muttered, wondering how that was possibly a good thing.
"Come on," Gwaine said, slinging an arm over Merlin’s shoulders. "Let's go find your uncle and let him know you're still employed. After that, we'll work on your right hook."
Merlin grinned, letting Gwaine lead him to the clubhouse.
Chapter Two
Pairing: Arthur/Merlin, with Gwaine/Elena, Morgana/Leon and a mention of Gwen/Lancelot
Rating: NC-17 overall
Word Count: ~38,000
Spoilers/Warnings: None.
Summary: Modern AU with magic. Arthur is a professional footballer on the verge of making history. Merlin is a medical student with special powers who's just been hired to work for Arthur's club. You know the rest.
Notes: See Master Post. There will be no headers on subsequent chapters.
Disclaimer: I do not own these characters, and I am not getting paid. Please don't sue me.
4 August 2010
"You're doing what?"
At Elena's shriek, half the pub turned to look at them. Merlin rubbed at the ear closest to her, wincing.
"Fuck's sake, woman, keep it down. I don't think they heard you at the North Pole."
"Oh, I'm sorry," she said, pulling him away from where they'd stopped just inside the door after his announcement. "I'm just a little surprised that my stupid sodding best friend didn't tell me that he was going to work for the best footie club on the planet."
"I love you, too," Merlin said, flagging down a waitress as Elena muscled him into a booth. They ordered two pints before he turned his attention back to her. "I didn't want to say anything until I was sure." And then belatedly, "I wouldn't say the best on the planet. In Albion, maybe."
"Still. It's Camelot United. Do you even know what that means?"
Camelot United was the top club in Albion's Premiere League, arguably the most elite football organization in the world. Merlin smiled up at the waitress as she placed his pint in front of him before turning his attention back to Elena.
"It's just a job. You know I'm not all that into footie, anyway."
"Liar. I know you used to subscribe to MATCH! because you liked looking at all the footballers' bums."
Merlin's head snapped up. "Who told you that?"
"Will." Merlin's other best childhood friend and currently a defender for their hometown side, Ealdor City.
"Will also thinks you're desperate to shag him," Merlin said, smiling smugly when she choked a bit. "I really wouldn't pay him much mind if I were you."
"So you don't like looking at their bums?" she asked, disappointed, like he was the worst gay best friend a girl could have.
"Always been a thigh man, myself," he said. Elena's face brightened, and she clinked her glass against his.
"Cheers to that!"
They were quiet for a few minutes before Elena pressed on. "Details? I assume Gaius was involved."
Gaius was Merlin's uncle and Camelot United’s club physician. He’d been Merlin’s mentor since he was a child and now, largely due to his influence, Merlin was in the final year of his medical degree.
“Yeah, they were looking for a part-time assistant for him, so he called me to see if I was interested. I said no, at first. I didn’t think I’d have the time between clinical training and teaching.”
“Oh,” Elena said, deflating a bit. “That does sound like a lot.”
“It would’ve been, but Gaius arranged it with the uni that my work with the club will qualify as my clinical training. I have a special advisor and still have to go to uni for teaching, but that's it."
"Wow. It helps to have friends in high places."
Merlin smiled. "It also helps that the university will be associated with the club. They're probably thanking their lucky stars that I decided to enrol there."
"Huh," Elena said, sitting back. "What about your--you know," she said, holding her hand out in front of her and wiggling her fingers, "magic."
For as long as he could remember, Merlin had had the ability to heal injuries. His mum told him that she’d first noticed it once when he’d fallen out of his pram as a toddler, scraping up his knees. He’d cried as she fussed about, looking for something to clean the wounds.
But then he’d suddenly stopped, and when she turned around he had his hands on his knees and was smiling up at her. When she moved his hands so she could tend to the scrapes, they’d vanished.
Other incidents had followed. By the time Merlin was set to start school, he knew that he was special. He didn't know where the gift came from or exactly how it worked. It was just this energy living inside him that he could control and use to heal himself and other people. Gaius had been the one to encourage him to go into medicine, so that he could better learn to control and use it properly.
"I'll go about it the same way I always do, I suppose," he said, taking a drink of his beer.
For obvious reasons, he used it sparingly and only to speed up the natural healing process. Anything too drastic would raise suspicions, and Merlin was not someone who liked attention. He also didn’t want to spend the remainder of his days locked in a sterile room being dissected by scientists.
"I can't believe you're going to be working for Camelot United," Elena said dreamily after a moment, staring off into space. "You're going to be in the clubhouse with them. Touching them."
"I imagine so, yes," he said, nonchalant. "Do you want me to give Gwaine your phone number?"
Elena paled. "Don't you dare."
“Oh, come on,” Merlin said, “you’ve been going on about him for two years already. This is the perfect opportunity!”
There'd been many a late evening where Merlin had had to listen to her extolling his virtues. Not that he could really blame her--as far as he could tell from all the pictures he’d seen, the man was bloody gorgeous.
“Merlin, I will kill you.”
"All right,” he said, putting his hands up in mock surrender. “I was just saying. But if you change your mind--"
"No." She cut him off swiftly and changed the subject. "But what about you?"
"What about me?
"Who've you got your eye on? You never did tell me what you thought of that new defender I showed you-- what was his name?--Leon something-or-other...."
"Are you insane? I can't go about seducing people. I'll be working. Besides, they're professional athletes. They're probably all homophobic or severely repressed."
"Will says--"
"What did I just say about listening to Will?"
"--that all the clubs have at least a few gay players, and that the showers are just rife with homosexual activity. Besides," she said, "we know there's at least one player who's not entirely straight."
She was referring to Arthur Pendragon, the club's--and the League's--top striker. Dubbed "The Pride of Albion" at birth, Arthur was the only son of Uther Pendragon, the club’s owner. Having been born locally, he was wildly popular, making it difficult to go anywhere without seeing his face plastered all over everything.
Not that that was a hardship: aside from being talented, he was ridiculously handsome. Merlin had had a secret, terrible crush on him a few years back, spending an entire fortnight trolling the internet for pictures and any gossip he could find. And there was plenty of it.
As talented as he was on the pitch, he was twice as promiscuous off it. Women, men, both at the same time; nothing was off limits for Arthur Pendragon. He had someone different on his arm every week, and just as often as not, that someone was male. Merlin had eventually lost interest, though, too caught up in uni to think about anything else.
“He’s probably trying to be controversial," Merlin said.
"You don't know that. I mean, he’s the first openly bisexual athlete. Attitude called him a pioneer," she said, matter-of-factly.
"Why are you reading gay magazines? I’m gay, and I don't read Attitude."
"I like the pictures," she said with a shrug. "Don't tell me you haven't thought about it. I know you used to fancy him."
"I haven't thought about it," Merlin insisted. "Besides, have you seen the blokes that he's been with? I won't hold my breath."
"You don't give yourself enough credit. I'm sure he'd be glad to bend you over and give you a good rogering."
Merlin paused. "Did you really just say rogering?"
“Would you prefer if I said he'd shag you rotten? Fuck your brains out?"
“Oh God, stop it,” Merlin said, putting his hands over his ears. "I'll not be doing any of those things with Arthur Pendragon, thank you very much."
"We'll see. You'll be gagging for it within a week, I'd bet."
"Ri-ight. So anyway," he went on, steering the conversation away from any thoughts of shagging Arthur Pendragon, "I just have to meet Uther to get the final okay."
"You're meeting Uther? When?"
"Tomorrow morning."
Elena spluttered, waving her hands at him frantically. "What are you doing out drinking? You can't be hung over when you meet Sir Uther Pendragon."
Merlin looked down at his pint, of which he'd drunk roughly a third. "I don't think--"
He stopped abruptly when Elena seized his glass, downing the whole thing in four big gulps. He opened and closed his mouth, unsure what to say. He was--that was--quite impressive, actually.
"Right, then, let's go," she said, wiping her mouth with a napkin. "Time to get you off to bed."
"But it's early," Merlin protested. Elena ignored him, pulling out her mobile to call for a taxi.
"Yes, and by the time we get you home, you'll be able to get a good night's sleep. Come on, then," she said, pulling at his arm until he was forced to stand up or fall out of the booth onto his face. He thought about mentioning that he would probably get home faster on the train, but a taxi did sound nice.
"You're a complete nutter," he said instead as she led him out of the pub and into the warm night air.
"You love me," she replied as she scanned the street for their car.
They waited in companionable silence until it arrived and then piled into the back. Merlin’s flat was closer to the pub, so the taxi stopped there first.
"Now give us a kiss," Elena said, offering up her cheek. Merlin rolled his eyes, but he obliged, giving her a quick peck. She was crazy, but he did indeed love her.
"You'll call when you get home?" he asked as he slid out of the car.
"I'll text you!" she called out the window, waving as they pulled away from the curb. "Let me know what happens tomorrow! Knock him dead!"
5 August 2010
"Merlin, it's Gaius. Just calling to remind you that our appointment with Uther is at eleven. Wear something nice...and for heaven's sake--DON'T BE LATE!"
Merlin was running late. He rushed down the stairs from his flat, taking them two at a time, a half-eaten piece of toast clamped between his teeth. By some miracle of nature, he made it to the ground floor without breaking his neck. He burst out onto the street and straight into a woman walking a tiny dog.
"Sorry, so sorry," he huffed, helping set her to rights while trying to avoid getting bitten by the vicious little beast. Once she was on her way, her evil, evil dog having appropriated the toast he'd dropped, he checked his watch. Twenty minutes to make a trip that took thirty--he'd never make it if he had to wait for a train.
By sheer dumb luck, he spotted a taxi dropping someone off down the road. He jumped out in front of it as it pulled away from the curb, nearly getting hit in the process. He ignored the blaring horn as he rushed around and threw himself into the back seat.
"To the stadium, please, as fast as you can," he said before the driver could turn around and yell at him. He sank back against the seat and took a few deep breaths, trying to calm his racing heart. He was starting to sweat, and rubbed his damp palms against his thighs.
It wasn't that he was nervous, exactly--well, maybe a little--but Merlin hated interviews. Regardless of his confidence in his abilities, he always felt awkward and unsure no matter how much he prepared.
The taxi pulled up by the public entrance to the stadium. Another quick glance at his watch told him he had two minutes to spare. It turned out that the entrance for the executive offices were on the other side of the stadium, so by the time Merlin made it into the lift to take him up to Uther's office, he was five minutes late.
He used the ride to straighten himself up, trying to flatten out his hair and bracing himself for Gaius's disapproving look. He wasn't disappointed: Gaius's eyebrow shot up the moment Merlin was ushered into the waiting room.
"I'm sorry," Merlin said, trying to strike pre-emptively. "I was attacked by a dog."
Not precisely true, but it was as good an excuse as any. He suspected it wouldn't make a difference had he been caught in a freak elephant stampede on the high street.
"Hmm," Gaius answered, looking him up and down. "Couldn't have been that bad; you appear to have escaped relatively unscathed."
"You know me," Merlin said with a grin, "fast as lightning."
Gaius rolled his eyes and stood up. "Luckily for you, Uther hasn't called us in yet."
He straightened Merlin's collar and smoothed down the fabric of his jumper over his shoulders. Merlin smiled at his uncle's fussing. They weren’t actually related by blood, but Merlin loved him fiercely. He knew Gaius had pushed hard to give him this chance, so he did not want to disappoint him.
"Thank you," he said, "for arranging this. It'll certainly be more fun than running around a hospital all year."
Apparently satisfied that Merlin was presentable, Gaius led him to a sleek leather sofa set against the wall.
"It'll be hard work as well," Gaius said. "But good experience for you, especially if you're still thinking about specializing in orthopaedics."
"I am," Merlin confirmed. His choice of specialty had probably been the main reason he'd been considered for the job. Bone and muscle injuries responded particularly well to his magic, and he’d see plenty of both working for a professional football club.
Gaius nodded, patting him on the knee. Merlin took a moment to compose himself, looking around the waiting room. The secretary was sat across from them behind her huge desk. She was a stern-looking woman, her hair done up in a severe bun.
On the wall directly above her was a club photograph. All the players and staff were lined up in rows, smiling out at the camera. The other walls were covered in action photos of individual players--Merlin recognized Gwaine and Arthur, of course, but he didn't know many of the others.
"Mr. Pendragon will see you now," the secretary announced, hanging up her phone and standing. "Follow me, please."
Merlin's palms went damp again as they followed her through two sets of heavy wood doors. As owner of Camelot United (and about half the city of Camelot itself), Uther Pendragon was one of the most powerful men in the country. In the entire world, probably.
His office was huge, larger than Merlin's entire flat. It was sparsely furnished, just a sofa and coffee table at one end and Uther's desk at the other, with two chairs for visitors in front of it. Uther sat behind his desk, scribbling away at a pad of paper.
"Your eleven o'clock, Mr. Pendragon."
"Thank you, Katrina. That'll be all." He waved at her dismissively, and she dutifully disappeared. Looking up at them briefly, he indicated the chairs in front of his desk. “Sit.”
Merlin wasn't listening, his eyes glued to the floor-to-ceiling window behind Uther that looked out over the pitch. He might not follow the game religiously like most people he knew, but the view still took his breath away.
“Wow,” he said under his breath as Gaius finally ushered him to his chair. Uther looked up from his paper. Apparently awestruck was an appropriate reaction, as he gave Merlin an approving nod.
“Impressive, isn't it?”
“It's incredible,” Merlin said, picturing what it must look like on a match day. “Do you watch the matches from here?”
“Occasionally. I usually watch from one of the suites,” he replied, setting down his pen. “Do you follow Camelot United?”
“I'm more of an Ealdor City fan,” Merlin replied, still too distracted by the view to pay attention to what he was saying. Uther made a face like he'd just tasted something exceptionally disgusting. “That's where I'm from,” Merlin said, trying not to sound defensive. “But since I've been at uni I don't really have the time to follow anyone.”
“Gaius tells me you're at Albion University.” Uther reached for a folder sitting at the edge of his desk. He flipped it open, scanning the top page of its contents briefly.
"Yes, sir." Merlin sat up a bit straighter, proud. Albion was the top course in the country.
“Merlin is very gifted,” Gaius cut in. “His clinical training is progressing quite nicely, and his director tells me he's the best in his year. Unofficially, of course.”
“Of course,” Uther said, still looking through the folder. Merlin wondered if he'd somehow got a hold of his records. “But you do realize that you won't be working with ordinary patients here, as you have in hospital.” He got up from his chair and walked to the window. “These are some of the world's best athletes. With millions of pounds at risk, I cannot afford any mistakes born from inexperience.”
“Yes, sir," Merlin said again, trying to sound agreeable. From the look Gaius shot him, he'd missed the mark.
“We usually require that our physicians have years of experience beyond their education. Unfortunately, we’ve recently lost several staff members and are short staffed. Gaius has spoken strongly on your behalf, and you have excellent recommendations from your clinical supervisors. As such, I am prepared to overlook your lack of practical experience.”
“Thank you."
“This is a very important season for the club, and for my son and me," Uther continued, and then looked at Gaius. "I expect you to be available to Arthur for whatever he needs, so you can sort out Mr. Emrys's responsibilities however you like to ensure that that happens." Turning back to Merlin, he said, "You will start on Monday. The club generally has practice every morning except for Wednesday, but that can change."
“Thank you,” Merlin said again, “I really appreciate your giving me a chance.”
“Don't make me regret it,” Uther said ominously, with the air of a man who could ruin someone's life if he saw fit. Merlin had no doubt at all that he could, and would, so he just nodded and stood up when Gaius did and followed him to the door.
“And Gaius,” Uther said when they were almost to the door, “Arthur’s knee is bothering him again. See what you can do about it.”
"Of course, I'll speak with him right away," Gaius said and then pulled the door closed behind him. Once they were clear of the reception area, Merlin let out a long, shaky breath.
“That went...well?” he asked, not really sure. Gaius smiled at him.
“I've been working for Uther for many years, Merlin. That went very well. Come, I'll show you around.”
“What did he mean about Arthur's knee?” Merlin asked as they walked to the lift. “Has he had problems with it?”
“It's an old injury,” Gaius said evasively, as though that were even possible at Arthur’s age. "It acts up every now and then." Merlin arched an eyebrow, but let it go. “You'll have to be especially careful around Arthur,” Gaius continued. “Don't tend to him without me; Uther will have your head if anything happens to him.”
"Fine by me. He's all yours.”
Gaius waited until they were on the lift to speak again. "I know I don't have to caution you about drawing attention to yourself--"
Merlin knew what was coming and automatically bristled. "Gaius--"
"-but subtlety has never been your strongest suit," Gaius continued, ignoring him. "I don't want to be worried that you're going to do something to reveal yourself."
"I haven't so far," Merlin said, watching the numbers tick down as the lift descended.
“I know,” Gaius said, putting a placating hand on his shoulder, “but you'll be under a lot of scrutiny here, much more than you would be even at hospital. You're exceptionally talented, Merlin, but you can't afford to raise suspicions.”
“I know,” Merlin muttered. He’d heard this particular lecture hundreds of times from both Gaius and his mother. Gaius continued, ignoring Merlin’s surly tone.
“Uther is a very...superstitious man, and I can't imagine he would be very open-minded about it. I know it's frustrating,” Gaius continued as they stepped off the lift. "I know you'd never agree not to use it, and I would never ask that of you, but promise me that you'll be careful."
“I promise I'll be careful.”
“And that you'll stay out of trouble.”
“I'll try."
Gaius looked ready to say something else, but then someone behind them called Gaius's name. They both turned at the same time, and Merlin immediately recognized the man jogging down the corridor toward them. It was impossible not to-pictures of him were plastered on nearly every surface in Elena’s room.
His stomach gave a nervous flutter as Gwaine approached. It was one thing to know peripherally that he'd be working with people that he saw on the telly and in magazines; it was entirely different to have one of them standing right in front of him. It was completely and utterly surreal.
Gwaine was just as gorgeous in person as he was in print. There was something very rogue-ish about him that appealed to Merlin. There had to be some sort of aesthetic requirement to play for the club, like an "anyone who wouldn't look equally as good modelling men’s underwear need not apply" sort of thing.
Thankfully, Gaius spoke up and distracted him before he could start to ponder just how good Gwaine would look modelling said underwear.
"Gwaine," Gaius said, "what are you still doing here? Practice ended hours ago."
"I stayed behind to do a bit of training."
"Nothing too strenuous, I hope," Gaius said.
Gwaine grinned, shrugging, before turning his gaze curiously to Merlin.
Gaius put a hand on Merlin’s shoulder. "This is Merlin, my nephew. He's going to be an assistant medic for the club this season."
Gwaine offered his hand. His smile was easy and wide, putting Merlin at ease. "Nice to meet you. I'm Gwaine."
"Yeah," Merlin said, "you, too."
"Merlin is starting on Monday, so I thought I'd show him around a bit before getting back to work," Gaius continued once they'd finished their greeting.
"Oh," Gwaine said, "I could take him around, if you have work to do."
Merlin's eyebrow arched in surprise, but Gaius just smiled. "Actually, that'd be lovely. Do you mind, Merlin?"
As if.
"No, not at all. I'll see you on Monday?"
"At 9:30," Gaius said, giving him a pointed look. "Not 9:35, mind you."
"All right, all right, I said I was sorry," Merlin said, letting Gaius pull him into a brief hug. "Go on, then, I don't want to keep you."
He waved them off, and then Gwaine turned to him, clapping his hands together.
"Come on, the clubhouse is this way," he said, and Merlin turned to follow. After a minute of comfortable silence he said, "So, Gaius's assistant, huh? How'd you swing that? You look a little young to be a doctor."
"Gaius is an old family friend. I’m in the last year of my degree. This is to be my clinical training."
"You must be the envy of your mates," Gwaine said while leading him into the clubhouse.
"I expect that'll be the case, yeah. Wow," Merlin said, looking around, "never thought I'd see the inside of one of these."
"You don't play?"
"No, the only time I ever tried, I spent more time on the ground than on my feet. I did manage to score once, though. For the other side."
Gwaine laughed loudly. "I'll keep that in mind if we're ever a man down--don't ask Merlin to fill in. Do you follow the club, at least?" he asked, guiding Merlin into a room off the main space, which housed several large stretching tables and cabinets that Merlin suspected were filled with medical supplies.
"Not really," Merlin admitted, pulling open one of the cabinets and taking stock of its contents. "I grew up in Ealdor, so I mostly followed them until I came here for school."
"Ah, the enemy," Gwaine said good-naturedly, hopping up to sit on a nearby table.
Merlin shrugged. "My best friend plays for them. He was always the one with the big footie dreams."
"Oh? Who?"
"Will Turner."
“Like the pirate?”
Merlin rolled his eyes. “Don’t get me started. He’s been impossible ever since those bloody movies came out.”
"He's a defender, right?" Gwaine asked seriously, rubbing his chin.
"That's him," Merlin said, closing up the cabinet and looking at Gwaine. "Are you from Camelot?"
"Nah, I always hated the city," Gwaine replied. "I grew up on an estate out in the country.”
“Oh, posh boy,” Merlin said, relaxed enough by now to tease a bit. He paused, remembering something Elena had once mentioned. “Wait, isn’t your father a Duke or something?”
“Yeah, he is.”
“Why the bloody hell are you playing football then? Shouldn't you be off, I don’t know, shooting things? Ordering your servants about?”
“Because it pisses my father the hell off,” Gwaine said, devilish grin returning.
“I’ve never met a member of the nobility before. What does that make you, then? A Marquess? Do I need to call you ‘My Lord’ or something?”
Gwaine threw his head back, laughing, and wow, was he handsome. “Gwaine is fine. I only ever pull rank with Arthur when his head gets a little too big.”
“Oh?”
“They may call him ‘The Prince’ around here, but I actually do outrank him,” Gwaine said with a wink. Merlin tried not to blush.
“That happen often?”
“He’s all right once you get to know him,” Gwaine said vaguely. “It’s his father who’s really a piece of work.”
Merlin was about to ask for clarification, but Gwaine jumped down off the table. “Enough of that,” he said, “time to continue the tour!”
Merlin was a bit disappointed, but he followed Gwaine readily out of the room. He got the “greatest hits” tour, as Gwaine called it, or just enough for Merlin to more or less know where everything important was. Conversation flowed easily between them, and Merlin completely lost all of his earlier nerves, and even began looking forward to returning on Monday.
"So, any advice?" Merlin asked as they were walking toward the exit.
"What do you mean?"
"You know, for dealing with the other players. I know what it's like when there's a newcomer about."
"That's true," Gwaine said, "but we've got mostly good guys here, even if they try and take the piss out of you a bit.” He paused for a moment, and then, “Maybe stay away from Bors. And Gareth. Other than that, you should be fine.”
"Bors and Gareth, got it," Merlin said, squinting up into the sunlight when they got outside. "Well, thanks for showing me about. I appreciate it."
"No worries," Gwaine said, clapping him forcefully on the shoulder. Merlin barely managed to stay upright. "I'll see you on Monday, yeah?"
"Yeah, see you then," Merlin called as they went their separate ways. Grinning, he turned and started for the nearest train station.
“Hi," he said as soon as Elena picked up the phone.
“What happened?" she asked, sounding satisfyingly breathless.
“We-ell…,” he drawled, trying to draw out the suspense.
“Merlin, if you don’t tell me what happened this instant, I will come over there and kick you in the bollocks.”
“All right, all right,” he said, knowing that she would actually do it. “I got it!”
She shrieked so loudly he had to yank the phone away from his ear. “Tell me everything that happened right now,” she demanded when his ear stopped ringing. “Every single second."
"What's in it for me?"
"I'll bring liquor and some DVDs. And nail varnish. We can have cocktails and I'll do your nails while you tell me everything."
"...I'm not actually a girl, you know."
"Whatever, I'll bring black. You know you secretly love it because it makes you feel all emo and rebellious. I'll be there in less than an hour."
Forty-seven minutes later, Merlin heard the pounding on his door. He'd just finished getting dressed after a quick shower, so he padded out into the hall and pulled the door open. Elena immediately shoved two paper bags at him, one of them clinking promisingly.
"What did you bring?" he asked, peering into it as she turned him around and steered him into the sitting room.
"Rum, lots of rum, because I know it's your favourite. Now you just relax," she said, pushing him onto the couch, "and I will fix us some drinks."
"Sounds good to me," Merlin said, stretching out across the cushions. Elena came back a few minutes later with the drinks, put the first disc of Torchwood Series 2 into the DVD player, and settled on the floor next to the couch.
"Okay," she said, unscrewing the varnish cap. "Start at the beginning."
8 August 2010
Merlin stood quietly next to Gaius as Uther addressed the club. He'd spent the weekend learning everything he could about the club--names, medical histories, and anything else he thought would be helpful. Gaius's meticulous records had been a big help; Google had taken care of the rest. He could now name most of the faces he saw as he scanned the room.
One face he didn't need any help recognizing, of course, was Arthur Pendragon's. The handsome blond had commanded all of Merlin’s attention the moment he’d walked into the clubhouse.
He’d been going over recent injury reports with Gaius when his magic had stirred unbidden, surprising him. He’d looked up to find Arthur standing there, eyeing him critically for a moment before ignoring him to talk to Gaius, who’d just shrugged apologetically.
Now Arthur was sat sprawling on the dressing bench, shirtless, and he kept looking at Merlin. Not the quick, curious glances he’d been getting from some of the other players. No, Arthur was watching him in a lingering, assessing sort of way.
It made Merlin distinctly uncomfortable. His magic was still humming under his skin, and he had to clasp his twitching fingers tightly behind his back as he tried to focus on Uther.
"I know that I do not need to stress to you how very important this season is to the club," he was saying, "so I expect everyone to do their part to ensure Arthur's success."
Merlin risked a quick glance at Arthur, who was now looking at his father, his cheeks a bit pink, his gaze--angry? He made a mental note to ask Gaius later what that was all about.
Uther finished up his speech with more talk about pride and glory and other things that Merlin wasn't altogether interested in. When he was done, Gaius stepped forward to take advantage of the still mostly captive audience.
"Just a quick word, if I could, before you all go about your preparations," he said, and the rustling that had started when Uther finished speaking stopped.
"As you all know, we are short-staffed medically this year, and it's a bit of a chore for this old body to keep up with all of you," he continued, drawing a chuckle. "So Uther has allowed me to take on an assistant until more permanent arrangements can be made."
He gripped Merlin by the shoulder and pulled him forward. "This is Merlin. He'll be available to help with minor injuries and any day-to-day maintenance you might require. I will still be available, of course, to assist with more serious problems. Though let's try and keep those to a minimum this season, shall we?"
Merlin had pasted a generic smile onto his face as soon as Gaius started to speak, and he tried to maintain it while everyone's attention focused on him. Gwaine winked at him, which helped a bit.
Introduction over, Merlin retreated to the far end of the room where two of the massage tables had been set up. He was crouched down by the floor, packing up a supply bag for the pitch when he felt a presence at his back.
"Made it through the introduction, then,” Gwaine said, nudging him with a knee. Merlin smiled up at him.
"I didn't look too terrified, did I?"
"Only a little," Gwaine replied, and Merlin was once again grateful for his friendly, open nature. "Have a good weekend?"
"Very exciting--I spent most of it reading about you lot."
"Nothing too sordid, I hope."
"Oh, lots," Merlin said, mock seriously, "I know all your dirty secrets now, you'd better be careful."
Merlin was vaguely aware that he was flirting, but Gwaine didn't seem to notice, or mind it if he did. "Wanker," he said. "I don't have any secrets."
"Everyone has secrets," Merlin said, looking down at the open bag in front of him.
"Not me, I'm an open book," Gwaine said. "But enough idle chit chat. I require medical attention.” He nudged Merlin again. “Attend me, peasant.”
“And here I thought you were a nice rich person.”
“Oh, I’m nice all right,” was the reply, suggestive enough that Merlin had to fight to keep the blush off his face. He turned his attention back to the supply bag.
“What do you need?”
“An ankle wrap.”
Merlin shifted forward onto his knees, fishing a bandage out of the bag. “Something wrong with it?”
"Recovering from a bit of a sprain. No big deal," Gwaine said as he hoisted himself onto the table.
"Does it hurt?" he asked, taking the proffered foot and probing lightly at Gwaine's ankle.
"No, just a bit weak."
“You probably started back on it too soon,” Merlin said, a bit of censure in his voice.
“Spare me, I’ve already heard it from Gaius.”
Merlin hummed in response, his attention focused on the tendons around the joint. He could sense that the sprain was worse than Gwaine was letting on, and that the ankle wasn’t anywhere near recovered enough for him to be running on it. Bloody athletic types, Merlin thought. Too macho for their own good.
He wrapped his hand around the joint, using a bit of magic to help strengthen it and speed up the healing process. When he was satisfied, he started winding the bandage around it.
"Your hands are very warm," Gwaine remarked, causing Merlin to look up. Gwaine was watching his hands intently, a small crease between his eyebrows.
"Good circulation," he said, giving his standard excuse. It was an effect of the magic: it warmed his palms when he used it. He secured the fasteners to the end of the bandage. "How's that feel?" he asked as Gwaine stood up and tested the fit.
"Great, actually--feels real good."
"Take it easy, though, would you? You're going to wind up re-injuring yourself."
"Yes, mother."
"All right, run along then," Merlin said, shooing him with his hands. "I'm terribly busy."
Gwaine departed with a two-fingered salute, leaving Merlin smiling. He went back to packing the bag, but was interrupted again a few minutes later by someone else seeking a wrap, and then by someone who needed help stretching a tetchy calf muscle, and before he knew it nearly an hour had passed.
"Well, you were certainly busy," Gaius said approvingly once the last player had departed.
"Yeah, that wasn't so bad," Merlin said, standing from where he'd been crouched cleaning up. "I was expecting them to be a bit more resistant to my help."
"Oh, well, you know how it goes--once one person breaks the ice, everyone else is much more inclined to follow suit."
"I guess you're right," Merlin said slowly, realizing what Gwaine had done. It looked like he had yet another reason to be grateful to his new friend.
"If you're done in here, we can go out to the pitch now so you can watch for a while," Gaius said, a hint of a smile tugging at his lips. Merlin quickly chucked everything he was holding back onto the floor.
"Lead the way!"
Two hours later, Merlin's head was still buzzing with the excitement of being out on the pitch. He'd stayed out for the entire practice, watching as the players went through drill after drill before eventually falling into an informal scrimmage. It was amazing to be so close to it all--he'd pinched himself once just to make sure he wasn't actually dreaming.
He was carrying a large box full of supplies from the storeroom to the clubhouse when he heard raucous laughter down one of the side corridors. Curious, he detoured toward the noise, peering around a corner. What he saw made his heart drop down into his stomach.
Arthur and two of his teammates--Bors and Gareth, unsurprisingly--stood surrounding a younger boy, who was red faced and breathing heavily. As Merlin watched, Gareth tossed a set of keys over the boy's head to Arthur. Arthur held them up for everyone to see.
"Come on, then," he said, jiggling the keys tauntingly, "catch them."
He threw them to Bors, and though the boy made a valiant leap, they were still just out of his reach. Bors himself had to stretch up to grab them. The three players laughed at the boy's attempt, calling out to him mockingly.
After two more throws, Merlin had seen enough. He set his box down and came fully around the corner. Luckily, Gareth spotted him just as he threw the keys, so his aim was a bit off. They arced away from Arthur and toward Merlin, and he came up behind Arthur and snatched them out of the air before Arthur had the chance. Arthur turned to look at him, surprised.
"All right, that's enough, you've had your fun," Merlin said, his heart giving a nervous thump. He smiled at the boy, recognizing him now as one of the equipment hands he’d met earlier. "These are yours, I take it?"
"Yeah, thanks," he said. He shot Merlin a quick look of gratitude before running off, leaving Merlin alone with three large, annoyed footballers.
"Was that really necessary?" he asked, directing the question at Arthur.
"Was it necessary for you to stick your nose where it didn't belong?" Arthur shot back, an unattractive sneer on his face.
"He was just trying to do his job. There was no reason to be giving him a hard time." Merlin turned back toward the corridor he'd come from, eager to get somewhere more populated in case the players decided to take out their excess energy on him.
"Sure there was," Arthur said, following at a distance. "It was fun."
Something in Merlin's stomach twisted at the smugness in Arthur's voice, and he found his anger rising. Even so, he picked up his box calmly and said, "Of course--what was I thinking? You wouldn't know a sodding thing about having to work hard, would you?"
Arthur stopped dead in his tracks. "What's that supposed to mean?"
"People look up to you, you know," Merlin said, ignoring Arthur's question. "They love you. It's disappointing to find out that you're not worthy of it."
Bors and Gareth exchanged glances behind Arthur, whose face had gone red. "You don't know a fucking thing about me."
Merlin smiled at him, sadly. "I think I know enough," he replied, and then turned his back on the trio, ignoring Arthur's "Oi!" as he walked quickly toward the clubhouse.
Arthur caught up with him there, slamming the doors open. "Don't you dare walk away from me when I'm talking to you."
"You know,” Merlin said, tossing the box onto the ground. "I can see that it doesn't matter to you, but some of us actually have work to do."
"You can't talk to me like that," Arthur said haughtily, all entitlement and arrogance. Merlin couldn’t hold back his contempt any longer.
"Or what?" he snapped. "You'll run and tell your daddy and have me fired?"
A hush fell over the room, which was still half full of players winding down from practice. Merlin spotted Gwaine out of the corner of his eye, rising slowly to his feet.
The momentary distraction cost him; the next thing he knew, he was shoved hard, sending him tumbling backwards over the box he'd left in the middle of the floor. Gareth and Bors burst into loud laughter. There were a few other titters, but for the most part everyone remained silent, waiting to see what would happen.
A bit dazed (and a lot embarrassed), Merlin realized that this moment would dictate the way that every person in the room saw him--his reaction to Arthur's bullying would determine whether the players would take him seriously or just write him off as some transient unworthy of their attention.
It would most certainly get him fired, but Merlin would rather empty bedpans in hospital day and night than have anyone here think him a coward.
He stood slowly, brushing off his trousers and walking calmly toward Arthur. He was laughing with his two minions, obviously having decided that Merlin would just crawl away and take it.
"Excuse me," he said, waiting for Arthur to turn toward him before placing his hands on his chest and shoving as hard as he could. Someone gasped as Arthur flew backwards, landing hard on his back with a groan. He looked up at Merlin, stunned.
"Anything else?" Merlin asked calmly, dropping into a mock bow. "Or will that be all, my lord?"
Arthur suddenly kicked his leg out, sweeping Merlin's feet out from under him. Before he even knew what was happening, they were rolling around on the floor in a tangle of limbs. Merlin had never been in a fight before, so he focused mainly on not getting hit while simultaneously flailing his fists about in the hopes that they'd hit something. Preferably Arthur's smug, stupid face.
He was partially successful on both counts. Arthur managed to hit him clean only twice: once on the mouth, splitting his lip, and then he caught him high on his cheek. Merlin saw stars as the pain exploding across his face.
Blindly, he threw his fist out as hard as he could and connected with a solid thwap, making Arthur yelp. Merlin got in one more good shot to Arthur's jaw before Arthur was abruptly hauled off him. Someone grabbed Merlin as well, dragging him backwards and up onto his feet.
His ear was ringing from how hard Arthur had hit him, so he couldn't hear what Arthur was shouting at him. He started shouting back anyway, hurling any insults he could think of, until the doors to the clubhouse flew open and hit the walls with a resounding crack. Everyone stopped and turned to see Uther Pendragon standing in the doorway, his eyes screaming absolute bloody murder at Merlin.
"What," he asked, "is the meaning of this?"
Merlin opened his mouth to give him a good earful about what a complete arse his son was, but the arm wrapped around his chest--Gwaine's, he realized--tightened, cutting off his air supply. Arthur was too busy glaring at Merlin to reply. Uther's nostrils flared as he inhaled sharply.
"Clean yourselves up, and then I want to see both of you upstairs in my office."
Merlin winced as Gaius dabbed at the cut on his face.
"Ow!" he said, glaring at his uncle.
"Don’t start. What on earth were you thinking?"
"He started it!"
"This isn't primary school, Merlin. You're expected to act like an adult, not get into petty playground squabbles. You promised me you'd stay out of trouble."
"Look, I'm sorry, all right?" Merlin said, feeling a stab of guilt. "But he was bullying this poor kid, and I intervened. I walked away after, I swear I did, but then he followed me and wouldn't leave it. He shoved me. What was I supposed to do?"
"You were supposed to keep your head about you. He's Uther Pendragon's son."
"I don't care if he's the bloody Prime Minister’s son," Merlin said hotly. "I am not a coward, and I won't have anyone treat me like I'm worthless."
Gaius looked at him long and hard and then sighed. "What am I going to do with you?"
"I'm sorry," Merlin repeated, aware that this would reflect poorly on his uncle. "But he's a spoilt, arrogant prat."
"He's not usually this bad," Gaius said, dabbing at Merlin's face again, much gentler this time. "He's under a tremendous amount of pressure. Especially this year."
Remembering Uther's remark from earlier in the day, Merlin asked, "What did Uther mean this morning? When he was talking about helping Arthur succeed, or whatever."
Gaius paused to look at him. "You don't know?"
"I know that Uther keeps mentioning how important this year is, but that’s about it."
Gaius sighed, tossing the gauze into the disposal bin. "Arthur is on the verge of making history."
"As the biggest prat on the face of the planet?" Merlin asked, unable to help himself. He put on a contrite face when Gaius glared at him.
"He could become the youngest player ever to score 100 goals in professional competition."
Merlin frowned. "Actually, I think I remember reading something about that. So what, though?”
"It may not seem that big a deal to you, Merlin, but I assure you it is quite a remarkable feat."
"Fine, but I still don’t see why everyone’s knickers have to be in a twist because he got what was coming to him."
“He has to stay healthy the entire season if he’s to break the record. What if he'd been injured during your little scrum?"
Merlin looked down at himself, and then up at his uncle in disbelief. "You're joking, yeah? He's got several stone on me. If anyone was in danger of getting hurt, it was me."
Gaius finally gave him a small smile. "You appear to have held up well enough."
"World record or no, he’s still an arse,” he said sulkily, even though he was starting to see his uncle’s point. “Why should I care if he gets all the glory?"
"Merlin," Gaius said, "it's not just about Arthur. It's about Camelot--the club's fans, Arthur's fans--there are a lot of people who are excited about this, who want him to succeed. He doesn't want to let anyone down; it's a tremendous responsibility."
Merlin thought back to what he’d said to Arthur about not deserving the adoration heaped upon him. "Do you think he really cares about them? His fans?"
"I know that he does. You may think him a prat, and he may very well be at times, but he's always lovely to his fans. He considers it his duty to give them something to be proud of."
"I understand," Merlin said quietly. It didn't change the fact that Arthur was, at heart, an entitled, self-centred twat, but it was nice to know he at least appreciated the people who put him where he was.
"Good," Gaius said, straightening up. "Time to face the music. Uther is waiting."
Merlin was admitted immediately to Uther's office. Arthur was already there, along with a strikingly beautiful young woman with long, dark hair and eyes so green Merlin could see them clear across the room. She was currently examining Arthur's face.
"Shouldn't be too difficult to explain away, given some of the things--and people--you've pulled. This will seem tame by comparison."
Uther stood behind his desk, looking tired. "Morgana--"
The door clicked shut loudly behind Merlin, drawing everyone's attention. Uther's face immediately turned thunderous. "You--"
"--must be Merlin," Morgana said, striding confidently over to him. "Morgana Le Fay," she said, offering her hand. "I do public relations for the club."
"Nice to meet you," Merlin said, shaking her hand. He saw how this might be a bit of a publicity problem and was slightly afraid that this woman would skin him alive. She had a ruthless quality about her.
"Come in," she said, taking him by the arm in a surprisingly gentle grip, "while we figure out how we're going to deal with this."
"I'll tell you how we're going to deal with it," Uther began, still glaring at Merlin, which he thought was rather unfair given that they hadn't yet heard his side of the story. Arthur had probably been feeding them a big pile of lies.
"You punched my brother," Morgana said, cutting in before Uther could get going.
"He's your brother?" Merlin asked, surprised. They looked nothing alike.
"Step-brother," she said, waving her hand dismissively, "whatever. You hit him."
"Yes."
"You gave him a black eye."
Merlin looked at Arthur for the first time. His left eye was swollen shut, the start of what would indeed be an impressive shiner. Feeling rather proud of that, he stood up a bit straighter and looked Morgana directly in the eye when he answered, "Yes."
"Did he deserve it?"
"Absolutely."
Uther spluttered, but Morgana held her hand up and silenced him immediately. Merlin’s mind boggled at the power. He tried not to fidget while she studied his face, and then she broke into a wide grin.
"I like you," she announced. "I think we're going to be good friends."
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Arthur roll his good eye.
"You most certainly will not," Uther snapped, apparently having had it with being ignored. "How dare you?" he asked, turning the full force of his ire on Merlin, "how dare you do this? After the opportunity I gave you, this is how you repay me? Attacking my son like some...some ruffian?"
"Attacking?" Merlin spluttered. "Is that what he told you? I--"
"Silence!" Uther said, slamming his hands on his desk. "You will not talk back to me."
This was starting to go much more the way Merlin had anticipated. "Yes, sir."
"You are dismissed. Effective immediately. I want you out of this stadium within the hour. Is that understood?"
Merlin bit the inside of his cheek, surprised at the crushing disappointment he felt. It wasn't like he hadn't been expecting this. He nodded.
"I've half a mind to take this up with Gaius as well," Uther continued. "Apparently I was wrong to trust his judgment."
His stomach sinking with dread, Merlin opened his mouth to protest. He was cut off by Arthur.
"Father."
Uther looked at his son, his glare softening a little, but not much. "What?"
"It was my fault."
Merlin's mouth fell open in shock. Uther looked equally stunned, while Morgana just looked suspicious.
"What are you talking about?" Uther snapped.
"I can't allow you to punish Gaius, or Merlin, for something that was my fault."
Merlin was caught somewhere between disbelief that Arthur was actually defending him and the completely surreal experience of hearing his name come out of Arthur Pendragon's mouth.
"What do you mean it was your fault?"
Arthur cleared his throat. "Some of the other players and I, we were...teasing one of the equipment hands, and Merlin intervened. I reacted poorly."
"So you started the altercation."
"I pushed him, yes."
Merlin couldn't believe his ears--was Arthur actually trying to save his job? Uther was apparently also dumbfounded, because he turned to Merlin for confirmation.
"Is this true?"
"Um--yes. Yes, it is."
Uther looked almost disappointed. "Oh. Well, then."
"I suppose Merlin isn't fired, in that case?" Morgana asked, winking at Merlin.
"No, I suppose not," Uther said. "But I am warning you,” he continued, placing his hands flat on the desk and leaning forward, "that this is your final chance. I will not tolerate fighting of any sort, and if something like this happens again, you will be finished. No matter who is at fault. Is that understood?"
"Understood," Merlin said quickly.
"You may go," Uther said. "Not you, Arthur," he interjected when Arthur turned toward the door. Merlin paused on his way out to look back--Uther's anger was obviously directed at Arthur now.
"Come on," Morgana said quietly, appearing beside him. "I'll walk out with you."
"Is he going to get into trouble?" Merlin asked, feeling inexplicably guilty. Morgana's grimace was confirmation enough.
"It's not really that big of a deal," Merlin continued as she ushered them toward the lift. "He shouldn't be too hard on him."
"Uther is always hard on him. It's nothing new, don't worry."
Still, Merlin couldn't help but feel that this was partly his fault. "I think I'm going to wait. You know, make sure everything's all right," he clarified when Morgana shot him a confused look.
"You don't have to--"
"I know. I want to."
She tilted her head, considering, before smiling at him. "It was nice meeting you. I hope to see you around."
"You, too," he said, genuinely. He waited until she got on the lift and then turned back, sitting himself in the waiting room, ignoring the disapproving murmur from Uther's secretary.
It was nearly a half hour before Arthur came out, red-faced and looking tired. Merlin stood up, and Arthur started when he saw him.
"What are you still doing here?" he asked, a scowl starting to form. "Stayed behind to gloat, have you?"
"What? No, I--I wanted to make sure that you--that everything was all right."
Arthur gave him an odd look and walked past him out into the corridor. Merlin followed.
"What do you care?" Arthur threw back over his shoulder. "You've still got your job."
"Thank you for that, by the way," Merlin said. The words tasted a bit bitter coming out, but Arthur hadn't actually had to intercede on his behalf. "I know you didn't have to say anything."
"Yes, well, next time mind your own sodding business, and we won't have to go through something like this," Arthur said, jabbing angrily at the button.
"Yes, well, next time perhaps you shouldn’t be such a gigantic arse," Merlin shot back at him, his temper getting up again as the doors opened.
"Are you always this annoying?" Arthur asked, exasperated.
"Are you always this much of a prat?" Merlin snapped. Arthur didn't appear to have an answer, other than to look at Merlin again. He thought he saw the corners of Arthur's mouth twitch, but decided he must have been seeing things. “Why did you intervene, then, if I’m so annoying?”
Arthur didn’t answer, and they rode the rest of the way in a tense silence. Right before the doors opened, Arthur said, "There's something about you, Merlin."
Merlin blinked. What did that even mean? It was probably an insult, like Merlin had some sort of mental affliction, but before Merlin could come up with a retort, Arthur was out of the lift. He followed, scowling, trying to catch up, until they ran into Gwaine.
"Is everything all right?" he asked. The question was for both of them, but he was looking at Merlin. Arthur's good eye darted quickly back and forth between them, a small crease appearing between his brows before vanishing. He clapped Gwaine on the shoulder.
"Fine," Arthur said, which Merlin immediately wanted to argue, because everything was most certainly not fine, thank you very much. "I'll see you tomorrow, yeah?"
Gwaine nodded. He turned to Merlin, who was busy glaring at Arthur, annoyed that he'd gotten the last word. "Merlin?"
"Yeah?"
"All right?"
Merlin shook himself. "Fine, fine. I've not been fired yet."
"That's great.” Gwaine said, grinning. "So what happened?"
"Oh. Well, technically he did fire me, but then Arthur interceded on my behalf, oddly enough, so I was un-fired."
"I told you, he’s all right once you get to know him," Gwaine said.
"Sorry, don't buy it." After all, it wasn’t as thought he’d be getting to know Arthur at all, not after the day’s events.
"He saved your job."
"Which wouldn't have been in jeopardy had it not been for him," Merlin reminded him. "They shouldn't have been picking on that kid."
Gwaine shifted uneasily from foot to foot. "I know it's hard to believe when you see things like that."
"A bit."
“He was an arse the first time I met him, too,” Gwaine conceded. “But once you prove yourself, he's fine."
"I have to prove myself? What is this, Fight Club?"
Gwaine laughed. "Certainly didn’t look like it earlier. You fight like a complete girl."
"You’d better watch it--I gave the mighty Arthur Pendragon a black eye."
"I think that was more luck than anything. Besides, you can’t hit a member of the nobility. I’m pretty sure that’s punishable offence.”
"Probably. I'm a lover, anyway, not a fighter," he said, blushing when Gwaine quirked an eyebrow. "I've never been in a fight before. I just didn't want everyone thinking I was some pansy who can't stick up for himself."
"You did the right thing, I think. The general consensus seems to be that you're a bit of an idiot, but a brave one."
"Great," Merlin muttered, wondering how that was possibly a good thing.
"Come on," Gwaine said, slinging an arm over Merlin’s shoulders. "Let's go find your uncle and let him know you're still employed. After that, we'll work on your right hook."
Merlin grinned, letting Gwaine lead him to the clubhouse.
Chapter Two