[fic] One Singular Sensation
One Singular Sensation | Merlin/Arthur | PG-13 | ~5400 words | "You're too good for the chorus, Merlin," Arthur says, and it's true, he's not just saying that. An A Chorus Line fusion.
This is quite possibly the most self indulgent thing I have ever written. It's basically me completely giving in to the Chorus Line nerd in me and going I love Zach/Cassie! I love Merlin/Arthur! Why don't I just turn Zach/Cassie into Merlin/Arthur! Because I can't bring myself to actually write ACL fic. It's plainly ridiculous. I have taken liberally from the play's book, sometimes paraphrasing, sometimes quoting verbatim. If you know the show, you'll definitely recognize the dialogue. I'm not pretending that I wrote it, or that I own any of this. Thanks go out to erethesunrises and timewaslost for the betas and the cheerleading. You girls rock hard.
one singular sensation
every little step he takes
one thrilling combination
every move that he makes
one smile and suddenly nobody else will do
you know you'll never be lonely with you know who
one moment in his presence
and you can forget the rest
for the guy is second best to none, son
ooh sigh, give him your attention
do I really have to mention
he's the one
***
Merlin breathed a sigh of relief as he deposited the grocery bags on his tiny kitchen table, safely inside his tiny kitchen. He'd almost lost his grip on those bags three times as he had slowly--very slowly--walked up the four flights of stairs to his apartment, balancing them in his arms the whole way. Now, he sagged into the one chair he had next to the table and took a minute to catch his breath, staring listlessly around his nearly empty apartment.
It was minuscule. Apparently these days one bedroom, one bath meant the size of a matchbox, but at least Merlin had a place to stay. And he'd only been there about a week so the place was still sparsely decorated; it hardly felt like home yet. The only personal effects were the calendar and the postcard depicting the Hollywood sign, both stuck with a magnet to the refrigerator.
Merlin sighed inwardly as he remembered what the postcard, which had arrived only the day before, had crammed onto the backside. Hey Merlin, Man, I have to tell you that you missed a great party this weekend at Freya's. Ryan Reynolds was there! Crazy, right? We all missed you, it was a good time. And Freya's picked up some new boytoy. I guess it's alright to tell you that since you're the one who left her, right? Anyway, I hope you're settling back into NYC OK. Call me when you can. - Will. PS. I booked that part on Days Of Our Lives! So far it's only a two episode thing but you never know, they could like me. I could be a soap star in a few months!
Next to the postcard, the calendar was flipped to August, the current month, with various dates circled in red ink and addresses and times inside the rings, indicating the time and place of auditions for prospective gigs. Merlin's eyes now fell with trepidation on one particular circle, Saturday the twenty first--tomorrow. That one represented the open call for the chorus line of Andrew Lloyd Webber's new show. It was sure to be a long running gig, nice work if you can get it, and the buzz had first reached Merlin all the way out in Hollywood. It would have been perfect, had Arthur Pendragon not been directing it.
Merlin sighed in resignation again, he'd been doing that a lot lately, and rubbed his forehead in frustration. Finally, he moved the ten paces it took him to get into his just-as-tiny-as-the-kitchen living room. The room was devoid of all furniture besides a blue dance mat that lay in the center of the hardwood floor. He stripped off his jeans so that he wore only a ribbed tank top and his boxers and plopped himself down on it and began to go through his stretching routine; it had been a long time since he'd danced seriously and he'd have to practice before the audition. He shuddered to think of walking in there and blowing the whole thing by fucking up a pirouette, especially in front of Arthur of all people.
With his legs stretched out in a straight line, Merlin leaned down and reached for his flexed toes, finding more resistance than he had been used to in the past. Every muscle in his body seemed to be impossibly tight and Merlin sighed in frustration and resigned himself to his fate. It was going to be a long night.
+
Arthur woke up begrudgingly. He opened his eyes slowly and immediately closed them again, hating himself for not having the foresight to close the blinds the night before. With his eyes closed this time, he stretched his limbs out across his queen sized bed and wished he could just go back to sleep but even if he had the time, he'd never be able to. It was in the mornings that the bed felt the emptiest; even after two years, Arthur still couldn't really get used to it.
Sitting up and squinting against the sun, Arthur glanced around his familiar apartment. It was a sprawling loft, big enough for at least two people but clearly being used as a bachelor pad. Arthur was usually a very neat person and had always prided himself on keeping a clean house, but he'd been so busy and distracted lately that he had admittedly lapsed. Somehow without Arthur noticing, his clothes had begun to build up into piles around his bed and plates and take out containors littered the table across the apartment. In between the two areas, a giant flat screen television sat across from an equally giant, plush couch. There were large windows in the wall, looking out onto the skyscrapers of Manhattan and shining light in the room and onto the mantle, which bore various photographs of Arthur with Morgana, Lance, Gwen and his father surrounding the three statues proudly displayed in the center: his two Tonys (Best Direction Of A Play and Best Direction Of A Musical) as well as his Drama Desk statuette.
Finally dragging himself completely out of bed, he slowly padded into his kitchen and poured a cup of the coffee from the batch he'd made the night before. He'd never exactly mastered the art--it was always either way too weak or way too strong--but at some point after finding himself living on his own, the desperation for caffeine to get him going in the mornings had won out against taste. Now, he took a sip of the brown liquid and winced dramatically. God, it was horrible. Like water with a vaguely coffee-esque flavor, how was it even possible to screw coffee up this bad? A horrid start to what was sure to be an even more horrid day.
Today was the open call for the chorus of Arthur's new show. Two hundred desperate dancers duking it out for eight spots on the line. Arthur had been dreading this day since the moment they'd scheduled it, but it was a necessary evil. The show needed an ensemble, obviously, and it wasn't going to cast itself, so that meant spending one long Saturday in a studio wheedling it down to just four boys and four girls and coming home with a massive headache.
Still sipping his atrocious coffee, he took a minute to check his email quickly to make sure that Vivian Olafsdottir had followed through and signed off on her contract. She had. Arthur closed his eyes against the headache he could feel coming on already and silently promised himself that he would never be talked into working with his father in the producer spot ever again. Uther had coerced him into casting that diva as his leading lady because of some godforsaken business relationship with her father. And Vivian was talented enough that Arthur had no questions that she would be capable of it, but he'd known her since they were teenagers and was sure she'd be a nightmare to work with. The next few months were sure to be hell.
This whole damn show was beginning to look like a really horrible idea.
+
An hour and a half later, Arthur finally made his way into the studio they had booked for rehearsals. The audition wasn't supposed to start for another forty five minutes but the place was already starting to fill up with girls in leotards and tights and boys in jazz pants and tight shirts, stretching out and practicing various spins and jumps from ballet and jazz. They all stopped suddenly and stared at Arthur as he entered the room. One pretty girl with blonde pigtails and a ridiculously revealing two piece outfit waved flirtatiously at him. Arthur ignored all of it and made his way over to Leon, who was sitting at a table near the front door, taking the names of the dancers as they made their way in.
"Hey boss," Leon greeted as Arthur took a seat next to him. He glanced down at Arthur's sweater and looked back up with an approving smile on his face and Arthur felt a bit sheepish. Leon obviously remembered that this was the sweater that Merlin had given Arthur for Christmas the year before he fucked off to Los Angeles, the one Merlin said made Arthur look all director-y, the one Arthur had refused to wear for a year after Merlin had gone. "Does this mean you're trying to move on?" Leon inquired.
"It means I needed something professional looking but sufficiently casual," Arthur snapped back.
Leon seemed to realize that this would be a good time to drop the subject if he wanted to keep his job, because instead of going with any of the many retorts Arthur was sure had come into his brain he just turned to the sign in sheet and handed it to Arthur to examine. "Fifty eight and counting," he said as three more girls with their hair done up high in ballet style buns came through the door. "Sixty one," he amended, "How was your weekend?"
"Boring," Arthur answered. "I mostly worked on choreography and did paperwork." Arthur scanned the list; it was mostly a sea of unfamiliar names. He did notice Al DaLuca and Sheila Bryant, he'd worked with them both before, maybe he'd be working with them again.
"I suppose it would be futile to tell you that you need to get out more?" Leon asked archly.
"I have work to do," Arthur insisted. "This is a fucking Broadway musical, not a school play."
"Hey, from what I remember of high school, school plays take quite a bit of work."
Arthur just glared at him, and Leon shut up.
A few minutes followed without much happening. For Arthur, this part of the audition process -- the waiting for people to show up part -- mostly consisted of sitting behind the makeshift sign in table, being friendly but aloof and looking important. He hated it.
Arthur looked down at his watch. It was nine thirty, time to start. He was just about to get up off his rickety chair when Leon gasped audibly and the pencil he'd been idly twirling in his fingers clattered on the floor. Arthur followed his gaze to the door and that's when he saw--Merlin. Arthur blinked. Merlin was still there, in black dance pants and a bright red skin tight shirt that showed off exactly how skinny he was, awkwardly clutching the strap of his dance bag where it was slung across his shoulder and standing awkwardly in front of the door, staring unblinkingly at Arthur.
Arthur stared back for a second or two. What the fuck was he doing here? What the fuck was he doing here? Then wrenched his gaze away and this time he did stand up. He moved quickly to stand in front of the mirror wall, where most of the dancers had gathered. "Alright," he said, clapping loudly once to get their attention, "My name is Arthur Pendragon, I am the director of One." He took a minute to gather around the crowd, going for a little intimidating. He saw Al DeLuca standing near the door, glancing from Arthur and down at his wrist watch and looking around nervously. He pointedly ignored Merlin, who had come to stand with the rest of them, near the back.
"I'm going to teach you a combination now," Arthur continued. "Learn it quickly, because the second time you do it you will have started auditioning for me." He paused, a murmur of understanding came up from the crowd in front of him. "Right. We start with our feet shoulder width apart, arms straight at your sides..."
+
Merlin was already out of breath as he stood in front of the warehouse. Hours of dancing ahead of him and he was out of breath before it even started. He hasn’t gone inside yet; he’s trying (unsucessfully) to get some composure before he plunges himself into what is potentially the beginning of the rest of his life. And fuck, he’s about to be late on top of that. Isn’t that fan-fucking-tastic.
Taking one more steadying breath, Merlin makes his way to the door and pushes it open. Walking inside, his eyes fall immediately on the sign in table right in front of him. He’s more surprised than he should be to see Arthur sitting there; Merlin knew he was directing this thing, of course that’s where he is. But it’s more of a shock to Merlin’s system than he will admit to see him after all this time.
Arthur sees him then, when Leon completely fails to be subtle after spotting him first, and Merlin half wants to close the distance between them and tell Arthur that he's sorry, he should never have left, but that's out of the question. Merlin came back to New York to get his life back on track, not to make the same mistakes all over again.
Then Arthur's getting up and moving to the front of the crowd that's gathered by the mirror and Merlin rushes forward so he has a good view of Arthur. The better to learn the combination, obviously, not so that he has a better view of Arthur's ass. Of course not.
Merlin groans internally and braces himself for a long audition.
+
A few hours later, Arthur has finaly wheedled the hundreds of people who came out down to eighteen who are still in the running. Arthur would have liked to say that Merlin wasn't among them, but Arthur knows that the man is too good of a dancer to write him off before giving him a real shot at the job. And besides, Arthur would be lying if he tried to say that he's not insanely curious to know why Merlin is back in New York and auditioning for a chorus line of all things. What had happened to his career in Hollywood?
Arthur takes a seat in the back of the room, several yards away from where the eighteen are standing under the lights, each one of them looking him as though the very fate of the world was in his hands. Arthur is keenly aware of the fact that for many of them, he really does. Some of these "kids" aren't really kids at all, but getting into their late twenties, and desperately trying to eke out a career in dancing for just a little longer. Others really are kids, still in their teens, and have never danced on Broadway before, looking to live their dreams. All of them are good--even great--dancers. Now it's Arthur's job to wheedle them down to four boys and four girls who work well together and would look good together on stage, in costume, under all the lights.
A voice comes ringing out from the line. "How many people do you need?"
"Four and four," Arthur answers, speaking into the microphone on the desk in front of him, his voice booming around the room over the sound system.
"Forty four!" Exclaims a blonde girl, stepping out of the line and looking at Arthur with a panicked look on her face.
No," another, slightly older, girl standing next to her corrects. "Four and four."
"Four boys, four girls," Arthur interjects, not wanting to get too far off topic. He's already running a little late. "We're gonna go down the line and I need to know your names, I'd also like to know where you were born, and when. Let's start on the end. Stage right."
He watches as all the heads in the line snap to stage right, and a slight brunette hesitantly steps forward. She says something Arthur can't quite hear, presumably her name. "Louder," Arthur reminds her.
"Maggie Winslow!" The girl screams this time, full of forced enthusiam. Arthur groans inwardly and forces himself to pay attention as they go down the line, providing the information Arthur had asked of them. His mind keeps straying to Merlin, though, and all of the mystery suddenly surrounding him. Goddammit, Arthur had been so sure that he was over Merlin but if all the man has to do to throw Arthur's life in a tizzy is come waltzing into his auditions, maybe he's really not.
Finally, it's Merlin's turn. Arthur's eyes are riveted on him as he hesitantly stepps out of the line, looking for all the world like he'd rather be anywhere else but here. He looks beautiful, though, the lights the audition is being held under shining off of his cheekbones alluringly. Arthur shakes himself, and reminds himself that that is over and that he needs to be professional right now.
"Merlin," Merlin says simply, and at first Arthur has no idea what he means and then he remembers, oh right, he'd asked them all for their names. And then Merlin continues, "Arthur--can I talk to you for a minute?"
Arthur swallows thickly, keenly aware that Merlin has passed the ball right into his court. "Sure, go ahead," he responds. As much as he wants to dismiss everyone else and get Merlin to himself and demand Why did you go? Wasn't I good enough? Why are you back? Why are you here? I missed you, please never leave again! he's a well established, well respected Broadway director--he's won Tonys, after all--and no way is Merlin going to cause him to lose his composure in the middle of an audition.
Merlin looks a bit thrown. "No, I meant privately," he says.
"Not right now, Merlin," Arthur says, "I'm running about an hour behind." It's a bit of an exaggeration--he's not that far behind--but Arthur just can't deal with this right now, he has work to do. A hurt expression flashes over Merlin's face, but it's gone an instant later and he's stepping back into the line, while the next dancer steps forward.
+
Merlin takes a few stumbling steps back into the line in a daze. He'd been psyching himself up for his moment in the spotlight as they moved down the line, and it was a little shocking for Arthur to take such little notice of him, even as they stood there face to face, directly addressing each other for the first time in years. Merlin just wished he could tell what Arthur was thinking as he sat in the back of the room, calmly taking them through the audition proceedings. It was clear now Merlin had lost the ability to know what was going on in Arthur's head and though it's not a surprise, it stings a little.
The woman standing next to him is moving forward, saying, "I'm Sheila Bryant. Sheila Rosemary Bryant," in a voice which is imperious and is clearly going for sexy. Merlin doesn't swing that way so he can't tell how effective she's being but, he thinks wryly, it's probably not working on Arthur.
But, oh, right. Not thinking about that.
"I'm going to be thirty real soon," Sheila says in that same voice. "And I'm real glad." Merlin barely surpresses an eye roll--he is standing right next to her after all--and lets the audition wash over him. Arthur pulls an interesting trick out of the bag. He orders the dancers to talk.
"Why did you start dancing?"
The question seems simple, and if Merlin didn't know Arthur as well as he does, he may have believed that the director actually thought it was. But no. Merlin can tell that Arthur is angling to get as much information about his auditionees as possible by asking a deceptively easy question. He wonders what Arthur has up his sleeve.
The other dancers on the line seem as surprised by the development as Merlin is, they've never been asked before to do something other than dance and rattle off their height, their weight, their resume. But Mike, the twentysomething man near stage right, seems to take it in stride. "Because my sister did," he says, "she was girl. That's why she got all of the dancing lessons."
And so it goes. One by one, Merlin's fellow dancers step forward and tell their sob stories. Kristine, who's a great dancer but can't sing a note for her life; Ricky, was supposed to be a kindergarden teacher but got away from it just in time; Connie, who's struggled with being under five feet tall her whole life. On and on it goes, and the longer Merlin waits for Arthur to call his name, the more his stomach tightens with stress.
"Can we sit down now?" Someone finally asks, in a tired voice. And its not until then that Merlin realizes just how exhausted he is -- they've been talking and dancing around the stage for what must have been hours.
"Arthur, can the kids sit down now?" Leon reiterates, calling out to Arthur so he can hear him in his seat down in the orchestra.
"Yeah," Arthur answers into his microphone, "bring them downstairs and run the tap combination. And teach them the lyrics to the song." Leon gestures towards the stage left exit and Merlin sighs in relief as he and the crowd around him slowly start to move in that direction.
But then Arthur's voice comes across the sound system yet again. "Merlin -- stay on stage, please." And Merlin's heart skips several beats.
+
Arthur tries, and fails, to pretend that he's not completely freaking out as he looks up at Merlin, all alone now on the stage, awkwardly shifting from one foot to the other, with his eyes flitting around the room, landing on everything in the theater except on Arthur himself. Finally, the younger man seems to steel himself and looks right at Arthur, smiles, and says awkwardly, "Well, this audition is really interesting, isn't it?"
He couldn't being forcing small talk any more if he tried.
"Yeah," Arthur agrees vaguely, but then he can't stop himself from blurting, "What are you doing here?"
Merlin looks startled suddenly. "What do you think? I need a job, Arthur."
Arthur is unimpressed. "In the chorus?"
Merlin rolls his eyes. "Look, I'd love a part, of course. But I'll take what I can get." Unsaid is the fact that if Merlin asked and looked at him with exactly the right kind of puppy dog eyes, Arthur would probably give him the lead. But Merlin would never ask.
"You're too good for the chorus, Merlin," Arthur says, and it's true, he's not just saying that. He's seen Merlin go out there alone under the lights night after night and blow audiences away with his grace, his agility, his sheer talent that Arthur had known was there since the first time he'd seen Merlin dance, when the guy was just a skinny teenager at an audition much like this one.
But Merlin immediately blows off the compliment. "Too good?" he scoffs, "I did a couple of dance parts, so what?"
"You stopped shows cold!" Arthur insists, "Your career was going fine here in New York --" he cuts himself off, still implausibly unwilling to face the fact that Merlin had ever left the city.
But Merlin quickly fills the void, jumping in like Arthur never said anything about him leaving. "I wanted to be something more than just a dancer," he says, all in a rush. "But I can't act," he chokes it out, like it's still difficult for him to admit to himself. And knowing Merlin, Arthur reflects, it probably is. Merlin is anything but a quitter. (So why did he run away from me? creeps into his thoughts and Arthur pushes them right back out again.)
Merlin is still talking. "And there I was, out in California, supposed to be some actor. But it didn't take me long to figure out I can't act." He sighs, "It didn't take Hollywood very long either."
"I did hear you were going out with some big agent, going wild, running around." Arthur blurts out, and what the hell is wrong with him? Why can't he keep all this personal stuff to a minimum and just do his job? You're a director for Christ's sake, and this is an audition, he tells himself, fucking keep it professional!
"Well, when you're a man of leisure, what else is there to do other than go a bit wild and run around?"
They stand there, just looking at each other for a few, long moments. Then Merlin sighs loudly again and says plainly, "I need a job, Arthur. I need a job and I don't know any other way to say it. Just. Treat me like you'd treat me like you'd treat anyone else."
Arthur stares back at the man under the stage lights and just lets himself give in. "Go run the tap combination," he says, and it feels like a defeat.
But Merlin positively beams, giving him that million-watt smile Arthur had missed so much. "Thank you!" he says earnestly before bustling off stage to learn the new routine.
When Leon brings the rest of the line back in a few minutes later, he smirks and gives Arthur a knowing look. Arthur ignores him.
+
They're running the tap combination. Leon is downstage center marking it so the rest can follow and Arthur is still in his seat in the back, bellowing out notes for specific dancers at random times, scaring the shit out of everyone. Merlin had been talking with Arthur when the others had learned the routine, but thankfully he's always been excellent at picking up a few dance steps very quickly. Mostly, he's just relieved that the talking has stopped now and they can get back to doing what Merlin does best -- dancing.
But suddenly Arthur is there, grabbing Merlin by the wrist and dragging him way downstage and off to the side, out of ear shot from the rest of the dancers who keep going, under Leon's watchful supervision. "What are you doing, Arthur?" Merlin snaps, annoyed. How dare Arthur pick him out, in front of all of those potential future colleagues? It's embarassing. "I was doing what I said I would, I was dancing like everyone else!"
"No you weren't," Arthur hisses back at him, and he seems angry. Merlin wishes he was surprised. "You can't dance like everyone else! You never could. You don't know how. You're better than this. For Christ's sake, you got out of the chorus when you were eighteen what makes you think you can go back in when you're twenty-five?"
Merlin just looks up at him, resigned. It sort of hurts to look up into that painfully handsome face he used to know so well and see nothing but anger and resentment there. "That's what this is about, isn't it." It's phrased as a question, but it's not really one. Merlin already knows the answer. This is topic they've been silently dancing around all morning. Or one of them, anyway. "You took me out of the chorus and you don't want to put me back in. Does it make you feel like some kind of a failure?"
"Don't you? When I got out of the chorus--"
"This isn't about you," Merlin cuts him off. "Please don't make this about you."
"Why did you leave me?" Arthur asks, and the words cut at Merlin like a knife. It's exactly what he didn't want to talk about when he came here today.
"Why did you leave me?" Arthur repeats, "I came home one day and you were gone."
"Oh, Arthur, you noticed." Merlin can't quite keep the resentment and sarcasm out of his voice.
"What the hell is that supposed to mean?" Arthur demands, and Merlin reflects for a moment that this is escalating far more quickly than he thought it would.
"You had already left me weeks before." Merlin's voice sounds flat even to his ears.
"Left you?" Arthur is visibly confused. "I thought we were living together!"
"Sharing the same apartment maybe," Merlin shrugs, "but you were in love again--"
"I wasn't!" Arthur protests, sounding distraught now, "You know I wasn't! I was directing my first play!"
"And you were in love with it!" Merlin all but yells. He knows he's getting unreasonable, and their voices are getting louder and louder -- the last thing either of them needs right now is to alert the other auditioners to their drama -- but he can't help it. This has been waiting to be said since before he left for Los Angeles.
"You knew how important that play was to me, Merlin," Arthur says, his voice as solemn and serious as Merlin's ever heard it, "if I could prove that I could do straight drama, then maybe I wouldn't be stuck making up dance steps for the rest of my life!"
Merlin scoffs in disbelief. "You were never going to be stuck," he says. "Acting, directing, choreographing. Plays, musicals. You were gonna do it all. And you wanted me right there with you, and I appreciated that, but I couldn't keep up. I'm just a dancer."
"No you're not, you're--"
But Merlin cuts him off, he needs to finally get this out. "It wasn't when we were working together that it really bothered me, then at least I got to see you. But when we weren't...I could feel you slipping away from me bit by bit. And it hurt to much. So I left."
Arthur is looking at him with an expression Merlin never thought he'd see again. It's the one he used to get when they were first together, what sometimes feels like a lifetime ago, and he'd look at Merlin like he was the whole world and like he could do anything. It makes Merlin's heart ache in that way that made him fuck off to California.
"We can't really talk about this here..." he says, voice trailing off with a tinge of disappointment.
"I know," Merlin assures him. "We can talk later." He catches Arthur's gaze and holds it, trying to convey just how very much this means to him. "Just, please. Give me a chance. I'm just another dancer, treat me like everyone else."
+
An hour, what seems like a thousand run-throughs of the same three combinations and lots of thinking on Arthur's part later and he'd finally come up with eight people to hire. This was always his favorite and least favorite part of the audition process. All of these dancers were very talented and would be brilliant, but he could only hire eight of them. He hated the mixture of crushed expressions with elated ones. It tore his heart out to have to reject so many of these young people he'd watch improve all afternoon, but elated him to give a few of them a chance at greatness.
He had the eight names jotted out in front of him. Val, Maggie, Diana, Sheila and Richie, Mark, Al and Merlin. Those six graphite letters seemed to stare back at him from the paper, daring him to go ahead say the name out loud. Part of him was afraid to, if only for the knowing looks he'd get from their friends who'd watched them fall apart, but also because he didn't want to be the guy who hired his ex just because they'd asked him.But on the other hand, no one could deny the fact that Merlin was a good dancer, easily the best of the whole audition, and how could he turn down a guy with so much talent?
But it was all worth it. All the other expressions, good and bad, faded into the background as Merlin's grin spread across his face when Arthur called his name and he stepped down into the line designated for the hired dancers. It felt like a new beginning.
***
kiss today goodbye
the sweetness and the sorrow
wish me luck, the same to you
but I can't forget
what I did for love
what I did for love
This is quite possibly the most self indulgent thing I have ever written. It's basically me completely giving in to the Chorus Line nerd in me and going I love Zach/Cassie! I love Merlin/Arthur! Why don't I just turn Zach/Cassie into Merlin/Arthur! Because I can't bring myself to actually write ACL fic. It's plainly ridiculous. I have taken liberally from the play's book, sometimes paraphrasing, sometimes quoting verbatim. If you know the show, you'll definitely recognize the dialogue. I'm not pretending that I wrote it, or that I own any of this. Thanks go out to erethesunrises and timewaslost for the betas and the cheerleading. You girls rock hard.
one singular sensation
every little step he takes
one thrilling combination
every move that he makes
one smile and suddenly nobody else will do
you know you'll never be lonely with you know who
one moment in his presence
and you can forget the rest
for the guy is second best to none, son
ooh sigh, give him your attention
do I really have to mention
he's the one
***
Merlin breathed a sigh of relief as he deposited the grocery bags on his tiny kitchen table, safely inside his tiny kitchen. He'd almost lost his grip on those bags three times as he had slowly--very slowly--walked up the four flights of stairs to his apartment, balancing them in his arms the whole way. Now, he sagged into the one chair he had next to the table and took a minute to catch his breath, staring listlessly around his nearly empty apartment.
It was minuscule. Apparently these days one bedroom, one bath meant the size of a matchbox, but at least Merlin had a place to stay. And he'd only been there about a week so the place was still sparsely decorated; it hardly felt like home yet. The only personal effects were the calendar and the postcard depicting the Hollywood sign, both stuck with a magnet to the refrigerator.
Merlin sighed inwardly as he remembered what the postcard, which had arrived only the day before, had crammed onto the backside. Hey Merlin, Man, I have to tell you that you missed a great party this weekend at Freya's. Ryan Reynolds was there! Crazy, right? We all missed you, it was a good time. And Freya's picked up some new boytoy. I guess it's alright to tell you that since you're the one who left her, right? Anyway, I hope you're settling back into NYC OK. Call me when you can. - Will. PS. I booked that part on Days Of Our Lives! So far it's only a two episode thing but you never know, they could like me. I could be a soap star in a few months!
Next to the postcard, the calendar was flipped to August, the current month, with various dates circled in red ink and addresses and times inside the rings, indicating the time and place of auditions for prospective gigs. Merlin's eyes now fell with trepidation on one particular circle, Saturday the twenty first--tomorrow. That one represented the open call for the chorus line of Andrew Lloyd Webber's new show. It was sure to be a long running gig, nice work if you can get it, and the buzz had first reached Merlin all the way out in Hollywood. It would have been perfect, had Arthur Pendragon not been directing it.
Merlin sighed in resignation again, he'd been doing that a lot lately, and rubbed his forehead in frustration. Finally, he moved the ten paces it took him to get into his just-as-tiny-as-the-kitchen living room. The room was devoid of all furniture besides a blue dance mat that lay in the center of the hardwood floor. He stripped off his jeans so that he wore only a ribbed tank top and his boxers and plopped himself down on it and began to go through his stretching routine; it had been a long time since he'd danced seriously and he'd have to practice before the audition. He shuddered to think of walking in there and blowing the whole thing by fucking up a pirouette, especially in front of Arthur of all people.
With his legs stretched out in a straight line, Merlin leaned down and reached for his flexed toes, finding more resistance than he had been used to in the past. Every muscle in his body seemed to be impossibly tight and Merlin sighed in frustration and resigned himself to his fate. It was going to be a long night.
+
Arthur woke up begrudgingly. He opened his eyes slowly and immediately closed them again, hating himself for not having the foresight to close the blinds the night before. With his eyes closed this time, he stretched his limbs out across his queen sized bed and wished he could just go back to sleep but even if he had the time, he'd never be able to. It was in the mornings that the bed felt the emptiest; even after two years, Arthur still couldn't really get used to it.
Sitting up and squinting against the sun, Arthur glanced around his familiar apartment. It was a sprawling loft, big enough for at least two people but clearly being used as a bachelor pad. Arthur was usually a very neat person and had always prided himself on keeping a clean house, but he'd been so busy and distracted lately that he had admittedly lapsed. Somehow without Arthur noticing, his clothes had begun to build up into piles around his bed and plates and take out containors littered the table across the apartment. In between the two areas, a giant flat screen television sat across from an equally giant, plush couch. There were large windows in the wall, looking out onto the skyscrapers of Manhattan and shining light in the room and onto the mantle, which bore various photographs of Arthur with Morgana, Lance, Gwen and his father surrounding the three statues proudly displayed in the center: his two Tonys (Best Direction Of A Play and Best Direction Of A Musical) as well as his Drama Desk statuette.
Finally dragging himself completely out of bed, he slowly padded into his kitchen and poured a cup of the coffee from the batch he'd made the night before. He'd never exactly mastered the art--it was always either way too weak or way too strong--but at some point after finding himself living on his own, the desperation for caffeine to get him going in the mornings had won out against taste. Now, he took a sip of the brown liquid and winced dramatically. God, it was horrible. Like water with a vaguely coffee-esque flavor, how was it even possible to screw coffee up this bad? A horrid start to what was sure to be an even more horrid day.
Today was the open call for the chorus of Arthur's new show. Two hundred desperate dancers duking it out for eight spots on the line. Arthur had been dreading this day since the moment they'd scheduled it, but it was a necessary evil. The show needed an ensemble, obviously, and it wasn't going to cast itself, so that meant spending one long Saturday in a studio wheedling it down to just four boys and four girls and coming home with a massive headache.
Still sipping his atrocious coffee, he took a minute to check his email quickly to make sure that Vivian Olafsdottir had followed through and signed off on her contract. She had. Arthur closed his eyes against the headache he could feel coming on already and silently promised himself that he would never be talked into working with his father in the producer spot ever again. Uther had coerced him into casting that diva as his leading lady because of some godforsaken business relationship with her father. And Vivian was talented enough that Arthur had no questions that she would be capable of it, but he'd known her since they were teenagers and was sure she'd be a nightmare to work with. The next few months were sure to be hell.
This whole damn show was beginning to look like a really horrible idea.
+
An hour and a half later, Arthur finally made his way into the studio they had booked for rehearsals. The audition wasn't supposed to start for another forty five minutes but the place was already starting to fill up with girls in leotards and tights and boys in jazz pants and tight shirts, stretching out and practicing various spins and jumps from ballet and jazz. They all stopped suddenly and stared at Arthur as he entered the room. One pretty girl with blonde pigtails and a ridiculously revealing two piece outfit waved flirtatiously at him. Arthur ignored all of it and made his way over to Leon, who was sitting at a table near the front door, taking the names of the dancers as they made their way in.
"Hey boss," Leon greeted as Arthur took a seat next to him. He glanced down at Arthur's sweater and looked back up with an approving smile on his face and Arthur felt a bit sheepish. Leon obviously remembered that this was the sweater that Merlin had given Arthur for Christmas the year before he fucked off to Los Angeles, the one Merlin said made Arthur look all director-y, the one Arthur had refused to wear for a year after Merlin had gone. "Does this mean you're trying to move on?" Leon inquired.
"It means I needed something professional looking but sufficiently casual," Arthur snapped back.
Leon seemed to realize that this would be a good time to drop the subject if he wanted to keep his job, because instead of going with any of the many retorts Arthur was sure had come into his brain he just turned to the sign in sheet and handed it to Arthur to examine. "Fifty eight and counting," he said as three more girls with their hair done up high in ballet style buns came through the door. "Sixty one," he amended, "How was your weekend?"
"Boring," Arthur answered. "I mostly worked on choreography and did paperwork." Arthur scanned the list; it was mostly a sea of unfamiliar names. He did notice Al DaLuca and Sheila Bryant, he'd worked with them both before, maybe he'd be working with them again.
"I suppose it would be futile to tell you that you need to get out more?" Leon asked archly.
"I have work to do," Arthur insisted. "This is a fucking Broadway musical, not a school play."
"Hey, from what I remember of high school, school plays take quite a bit of work."
Arthur just glared at him, and Leon shut up.
A few minutes followed without much happening. For Arthur, this part of the audition process -- the waiting for people to show up part -- mostly consisted of sitting behind the makeshift sign in table, being friendly but aloof and looking important. He hated it.
Arthur looked down at his watch. It was nine thirty, time to start. He was just about to get up off his rickety chair when Leon gasped audibly and the pencil he'd been idly twirling in his fingers clattered on the floor. Arthur followed his gaze to the door and that's when he saw--Merlin. Arthur blinked. Merlin was still there, in black dance pants and a bright red skin tight shirt that showed off exactly how skinny he was, awkwardly clutching the strap of his dance bag where it was slung across his shoulder and standing awkwardly in front of the door, staring unblinkingly at Arthur.
Arthur stared back for a second or two. What the fuck was he doing here? What the fuck was he doing here? Then wrenched his gaze away and this time he did stand up. He moved quickly to stand in front of the mirror wall, where most of the dancers had gathered. "Alright," he said, clapping loudly once to get their attention, "My name is Arthur Pendragon, I am the director of One." He took a minute to gather around the crowd, going for a little intimidating. He saw Al DeLuca standing near the door, glancing from Arthur and down at his wrist watch and looking around nervously. He pointedly ignored Merlin, who had come to stand with the rest of them, near the back.
"I'm going to teach you a combination now," Arthur continued. "Learn it quickly, because the second time you do it you will have started auditioning for me." He paused, a murmur of understanding came up from the crowd in front of him. "Right. We start with our feet shoulder width apart, arms straight at your sides..."
+
Merlin was already out of breath as he stood in front of the warehouse. Hours of dancing ahead of him and he was out of breath before it even started. He hasn’t gone inside yet; he’s trying (unsucessfully) to get some composure before he plunges himself into what is potentially the beginning of the rest of his life. And fuck, he’s about to be late on top of that. Isn’t that fan-fucking-tastic.
Taking one more steadying breath, Merlin makes his way to the door and pushes it open. Walking inside, his eyes fall immediately on the sign in table right in front of him. He’s more surprised than he should be to see Arthur sitting there; Merlin knew he was directing this thing, of course that’s where he is. But it’s more of a shock to Merlin’s system than he will admit to see him after all this time.
Arthur sees him then, when Leon completely fails to be subtle after spotting him first, and Merlin half wants to close the distance between them and tell Arthur that he's sorry, he should never have left, but that's out of the question. Merlin came back to New York to get his life back on track, not to make the same mistakes all over again.
Then Arthur's getting up and moving to the front of the crowd that's gathered by the mirror and Merlin rushes forward so he has a good view of Arthur. The better to learn the combination, obviously, not so that he has a better view of Arthur's ass. Of course not.
Merlin groans internally and braces himself for a long audition.
+
A few hours later, Arthur has finaly wheedled the hundreds of people who came out down to eighteen who are still in the running. Arthur would have liked to say that Merlin wasn't among them, but Arthur knows that the man is too good of a dancer to write him off before giving him a real shot at the job. And besides, Arthur would be lying if he tried to say that he's not insanely curious to know why Merlin is back in New York and auditioning for a chorus line of all things. What had happened to his career in Hollywood?
Arthur takes a seat in the back of the room, several yards away from where the eighteen are standing under the lights, each one of them looking him as though the very fate of the world was in his hands. Arthur is keenly aware of the fact that for many of them, he really does. Some of these "kids" aren't really kids at all, but getting into their late twenties, and desperately trying to eke out a career in dancing for just a little longer. Others really are kids, still in their teens, and have never danced on Broadway before, looking to live their dreams. All of them are good--even great--dancers. Now it's Arthur's job to wheedle them down to four boys and four girls who work well together and would look good together on stage, in costume, under all the lights.
A voice comes ringing out from the line. "How many people do you need?"
"Four and four," Arthur answers, speaking into the microphone on the desk in front of him, his voice booming around the room over the sound system.
"Forty four!" Exclaims a blonde girl, stepping out of the line and looking at Arthur with a panicked look on her face.
No," another, slightly older, girl standing next to her corrects. "Four and four."
"Four boys, four girls," Arthur interjects, not wanting to get too far off topic. He's already running a little late. "We're gonna go down the line and I need to know your names, I'd also like to know where you were born, and when. Let's start on the end. Stage right."
He watches as all the heads in the line snap to stage right, and a slight brunette hesitantly steps forward. She says something Arthur can't quite hear, presumably her name. "Louder," Arthur reminds her.
"Maggie Winslow!" The girl screams this time, full of forced enthusiam. Arthur groans inwardly and forces himself to pay attention as they go down the line, providing the information Arthur had asked of them. His mind keeps straying to Merlin, though, and all of the mystery suddenly surrounding him. Goddammit, Arthur had been so sure that he was over Merlin but if all the man has to do to throw Arthur's life in a tizzy is come waltzing into his auditions, maybe he's really not.
Finally, it's Merlin's turn. Arthur's eyes are riveted on him as he hesitantly stepps out of the line, looking for all the world like he'd rather be anywhere else but here. He looks beautiful, though, the lights the audition is being held under shining off of his cheekbones alluringly. Arthur shakes himself, and reminds himself that that is over and that he needs to be professional right now.
"Merlin," Merlin says simply, and at first Arthur has no idea what he means and then he remembers, oh right, he'd asked them all for their names. And then Merlin continues, "Arthur--can I talk to you for a minute?"
Arthur swallows thickly, keenly aware that Merlin has passed the ball right into his court. "Sure, go ahead," he responds. As much as he wants to dismiss everyone else and get Merlin to himself and demand Why did you go? Wasn't I good enough? Why are you back? Why are you here? I missed you, please never leave again! he's a well established, well respected Broadway director--he's won Tonys, after all--and no way is Merlin going to cause him to lose his composure in the middle of an audition.
Merlin looks a bit thrown. "No, I meant privately," he says.
"Not right now, Merlin," Arthur says, "I'm running about an hour behind." It's a bit of an exaggeration--he's not that far behind--but Arthur just can't deal with this right now, he has work to do. A hurt expression flashes over Merlin's face, but it's gone an instant later and he's stepping back into the line, while the next dancer steps forward.
+
Merlin takes a few stumbling steps back into the line in a daze. He'd been psyching himself up for his moment in the spotlight as they moved down the line, and it was a little shocking for Arthur to take such little notice of him, even as they stood there face to face, directly addressing each other for the first time in years. Merlin just wished he could tell what Arthur was thinking as he sat in the back of the room, calmly taking them through the audition proceedings. It was clear now Merlin had lost the ability to know what was going on in Arthur's head and though it's not a surprise, it stings a little.
The woman standing next to him is moving forward, saying, "I'm Sheila Bryant. Sheila Rosemary Bryant," in a voice which is imperious and is clearly going for sexy. Merlin doesn't swing that way so he can't tell how effective she's being but, he thinks wryly, it's probably not working on Arthur.
But, oh, right. Not thinking about that.
"I'm going to be thirty real soon," Sheila says in that same voice. "And I'm real glad." Merlin barely surpresses an eye roll--he is standing right next to her after all--and lets the audition wash over him. Arthur pulls an interesting trick out of the bag. He orders the dancers to talk.
"Why did you start dancing?"
The question seems simple, and if Merlin didn't know Arthur as well as he does, he may have believed that the director actually thought it was. But no. Merlin can tell that Arthur is angling to get as much information about his auditionees as possible by asking a deceptively easy question. He wonders what Arthur has up his sleeve.
The other dancers on the line seem as surprised by the development as Merlin is, they've never been asked before to do something other than dance and rattle off their height, their weight, their resume. But Mike, the twentysomething man near stage right, seems to take it in stride. "Because my sister did," he says, "she was girl. That's why she got all of the dancing lessons."
And so it goes. One by one, Merlin's fellow dancers step forward and tell their sob stories. Kristine, who's a great dancer but can't sing a note for her life; Ricky, was supposed to be a kindergarden teacher but got away from it just in time; Connie, who's struggled with being under five feet tall her whole life. On and on it goes, and the longer Merlin waits for Arthur to call his name, the more his stomach tightens with stress.
"Can we sit down now?" Someone finally asks, in a tired voice. And its not until then that Merlin realizes just how exhausted he is -- they've been talking and dancing around the stage for what must have been hours.
"Arthur, can the kids sit down now?" Leon reiterates, calling out to Arthur so he can hear him in his seat down in the orchestra.
"Yeah," Arthur answers into his microphone, "bring them downstairs and run the tap combination. And teach them the lyrics to the song." Leon gestures towards the stage left exit and Merlin sighs in relief as he and the crowd around him slowly start to move in that direction.
But then Arthur's voice comes across the sound system yet again. "Merlin -- stay on stage, please." And Merlin's heart skips several beats.
+
Arthur tries, and fails, to pretend that he's not completely freaking out as he looks up at Merlin, all alone now on the stage, awkwardly shifting from one foot to the other, with his eyes flitting around the room, landing on everything in the theater except on Arthur himself. Finally, the younger man seems to steel himself and looks right at Arthur, smiles, and says awkwardly, "Well, this audition is really interesting, isn't it?"
He couldn't being forcing small talk any more if he tried.
"Yeah," Arthur agrees vaguely, but then he can't stop himself from blurting, "What are you doing here?"
Merlin looks startled suddenly. "What do you think? I need a job, Arthur."
Arthur is unimpressed. "In the chorus?"
Merlin rolls his eyes. "Look, I'd love a part, of course. But I'll take what I can get." Unsaid is the fact that if Merlin asked and looked at him with exactly the right kind of puppy dog eyes, Arthur would probably give him the lead. But Merlin would never ask.
"You're too good for the chorus, Merlin," Arthur says, and it's true, he's not just saying that. He's seen Merlin go out there alone under the lights night after night and blow audiences away with his grace, his agility, his sheer talent that Arthur had known was there since the first time he'd seen Merlin dance, when the guy was just a skinny teenager at an audition much like this one.
But Merlin immediately blows off the compliment. "Too good?" he scoffs, "I did a couple of dance parts, so what?"
"You stopped shows cold!" Arthur insists, "Your career was going fine here in New York --" he cuts himself off, still implausibly unwilling to face the fact that Merlin had ever left the city.
But Merlin quickly fills the void, jumping in like Arthur never said anything about him leaving. "I wanted to be something more than just a dancer," he says, all in a rush. "But I can't act," he chokes it out, like it's still difficult for him to admit to himself. And knowing Merlin, Arthur reflects, it probably is. Merlin is anything but a quitter. (So why did he run away from me? creeps into his thoughts and Arthur pushes them right back out again.)
Merlin is still talking. "And there I was, out in California, supposed to be some actor. But it didn't take me long to figure out I can't act." He sighs, "It didn't take Hollywood very long either."
"I did hear you were going out with some big agent, going wild, running around." Arthur blurts out, and what the hell is wrong with him? Why can't he keep all this personal stuff to a minimum and just do his job? You're a director for Christ's sake, and this is an audition, he tells himself, fucking keep it professional!
"Well, when you're a man of leisure, what else is there to do other than go a bit wild and run around?"
They stand there, just looking at each other for a few, long moments. Then Merlin sighs loudly again and says plainly, "I need a job, Arthur. I need a job and I don't know any other way to say it. Just. Treat me like you'd treat me like you'd treat anyone else."
Arthur stares back at the man under the stage lights and just lets himself give in. "Go run the tap combination," he says, and it feels like a defeat.
But Merlin positively beams, giving him that million-watt smile Arthur had missed so much. "Thank you!" he says earnestly before bustling off stage to learn the new routine.
When Leon brings the rest of the line back in a few minutes later, he smirks and gives Arthur a knowing look. Arthur ignores him.
+
They're running the tap combination. Leon is downstage center marking it so the rest can follow and Arthur is still in his seat in the back, bellowing out notes for specific dancers at random times, scaring the shit out of everyone. Merlin had been talking with Arthur when the others had learned the routine, but thankfully he's always been excellent at picking up a few dance steps very quickly. Mostly, he's just relieved that the talking has stopped now and they can get back to doing what Merlin does best -- dancing.
But suddenly Arthur is there, grabbing Merlin by the wrist and dragging him way downstage and off to the side, out of ear shot from the rest of the dancers who keep going, under Leon's watchful supervision. "What are you doing, Arthur?" Merlin snaps, annoyed. How dare Arthur pick him out, in front of all of those potential future colleagues? It's embarassing. "I was doing what I said I would, I was dancing like everyone else!"
"No you weren't," Arthur hisses back at him, and he seems angry. Merlin wishes he was surprised. "You can't dance like everyone else! You never could. You don't know how. You're better than this. For Christ's sake, you got out of the chorus when you were eighteen what makes you think you can go back in when you're twenty-five?"
Merlin just looks up at him, resigned. It sort of hurts to look up into that painfully handsome face he used to know so well and see nothing but anger and resentment there. "That's what this is about, isn't it." It's phrased as a question, but it's not really one. Merlin already knows the answer. This is topic they've been silently dancing around all morning. Or one of them, anyway. "You took me out of the chorus and you don't want to put me back in. Does it make you feel like some kind of a failure?"
"Don't you? When I got out of the chorus--"
"This isn't about you," Merlin cuts him off. "Please don't make this about you."
"Why did you leave me?" Arthur asks, and the words cut at Merlin like a knife. It's exactly what he didn't want to talk about when he came here today.
"Why did you leave me?" Arthur repeats, "I came home one day and you were gone."
"Oh, Arthur, you noticed." Merlin can't quite keep the resentment and sarcasm out of his voice.
"What the hell is that supposed to mean?" Arthur demands, and Merlin reflects for a moment that this is escalating far more quickly than he thought it would.
"You had already left me weeks before." Merlin's voice sounds flat even to his ears.
"Left you?" Arthur is visibly confused. "I thought we were living together!"
"Sharing the same apartment maybe," Merlin shrugs, "but you were in love again--"
"I wasn't!" Arthur protests, sounding distraught now, "You know I wasn't! I was directing my first play!"
"And you were in love with it!" Merlin all but yells. He knows he's getting unreasonable, and their voices are getting louder and louder -- the last thing either of them needs right now is to alert the other auditioners to their drama -- but he can't help it. This has been waiting to be said since before he left for Los Angeles.
"You knew how important that play was to me, Merlin," Arthur says, his voice as solemn and serious as Merlin's ever heard it, "if I could prove that I could do straight drama, then maybe I wouldn't be stuck making up dance steps for the rest of my life!"
Merlin scoffs in disbelief. "You were never going to be stuck," he says. "Acting, directing, choreographing. Plays, musicals. You were gonna do it all. And you wanted me right there with you, and I appreciated that, but I couldn't keep up. I'm just a dancer."
"No you're not, you're--"
But Merlin cuts him off, he needs to finally get this out. "It wasn't when we were working together that it really bothered me, then at least I got to see you. But when we weren't...I could feel you slipping away from me bit by bit. And it hurt to much. So I left."
Arthur is looking at him with an expression Merlin never thought he'd see again. It's the one he used to get when they were first together, what sometimes feels like a lifetime ago, and he'd look at Merlin like he was the whole world and like he could do anything. It makes Merlin's heart ache in that way that made him fuck off to California.
"We can't really talk about this here..." he says, voice trailing off with a tinge of disappointment.
"I know," Merlin assures him. "We can talk later." He catches Arthur's gaze and holds it, trying to convey just how very much this means to him. "Just, please. Give me a chance. I'm just another dancer, treat me like everyone else."
+
An hour, what seems like a thousand run-throughs of the same three combinations and lots of thinking on Arthur's part later and he'd finally come up with eight people to hire. This was always his favorite and least favorite part of the audition process. All of these dancers were very talented and would be brilliant, but he could only hire eight of them. He hated the mixture of crushed expressions with elated ones. It tore his heart out to have to reject so many of these young people he'd watch improve all afternoon, but elated him to give a few of them a chance at greatness.
He had the eight names jotted out in front of him. Val, Maggie, Diana, Sheila and Richie, Mark, Al and Merlin. Those six graphite letters seemed to stare back at him from the paper, daring him to go ahead say the name out loud. Part of him was afraid to, if only for the knowing looks he'd get from their friends who'd watched them fall apart, but also because he didn't want to be the guy who hired his ex just because they'd asked him.But on the other hand, no one could deny the fact that Merlin was a good dancer, easily the best of the whole audition, and how could he turn down a guy with so much talent?
But it was all worth it. All the other expressions, good and bad, faded into the background as Merlin's grin spread across his face when Arthur called his name and he stepped down into the line designated for the hired dancers. It felt like a new beginning.
***
kiss today goodbye
the sweetness and the sorrow
wish me luck, the same to you
but I can't forget
what I did for love
what I did for love