Fic: Thursday the Thirteenth
Thursday the Thirteenth.
Also on A03 here
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Merlin/Arthur
Word Count: 4232
Summary: It's Anti-Valentine's Day, Thursday the Thirteenth, the day when single people go to the pub and play cribbage. Unfortunately for Mordred, it rapidly becomes evident that Arthur and Merlin are rather less single than they claim.
Disclaimer: I'm doing this for love, not money. The characters portrayed in this work of fiction are inspired by the BBC / Shine production "Merlin". I am only playing with them, and promise to put them back in their box when I finish.
Warnings: Cavity-inducing fluff. Seriously. There are pandas.On A03 here
“I thought you said they were both single?” Mordred whispered out of the corner of his mouth to his flat-mate.
“They are, as far as I know,” Morgana whispered back, a tiny frown puckering her otherwise flawless forehead.
It was Thursday 13th February. Morgana proclaimed it to be Anti-Valentine’s Day, and in honour of the occasion she’d promised him the opportunity to meet, and play cards with, not one, but two, gorgeous, single, gay men in their late twenties. As if that wasn’t enough to make it worth his while, she’d also promised him a large cash sum if he could be so kind as to end up having sex with the blond one, Morgana’s brother, who was, as promised, absolutely jaw-droppingly shaggable, as well as, according to Morgana, in desperate need of getting laid.
And, yet, here they both were, the two of them, hot, fit and fabulous, just as she’d promised, but seemingly already irrevocably attached to one another.
“Could have fooled me,” he said, still sotto voce, nodding his head across the table towards where Arthur and Merlin sat with their heads together-blond and midnight, like a yellowing black-and-white photograph-bickering amicably about who’s turn it was to get the next round in.
“It’s definitely my turn, you idiot,” Arthur gripped Merlin’s shoulder as he spoke, and shook him gently. “And anyway, I know you don’t have two pennies to scrape together. Let me get them in.”
“Don’t be such a plonker, Arthur, you got the last two rounds.” Merlin fumbled in his pocket with one hand, fending Arthur’s arm off with the other. “Let me get them, you prat.”
“You’re being even more idiotic than usual. You’re a lightweight, you’re only drinking Ribena, and it costs approximately 40p per pint, which is but a drop in the ocean. Let me get them, broccoli brain!” said Arthur, his speech somewhat jerky, being delivered, as it was, whilst attempting to thrust Merlin’s tatty-looking wallet back into his pocket.
“Are you saying you’re not up to the job?” said Morgana in an undertone, although there was no way that the others would be able to hear it, they were too distracted with each other.
Stung, Mordred shook his head. “Of course I am!” he said. Swallowing a long draught from his pint of London Pride, he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, the dark umber nectar going some way towards soothing his fragile nerves. He had to admit, their antics were quite amusing, but he was highly skilled in the arts of seduction, and he wasn’t here to enjoy the view. Oh no.
It was with an air of inevitability that the argument degenerated into a tickling battle, with Arthur’s guffaws and Merlin’s indignant squawks punctuating the air, as Mordred and Morgana looked on in reluctant fascination.
“Ouch! That hurt, you bully!” Merlin was batting Arthur’s hands away as if they were flies.
“Submit to me, oh spaghetti-armed weakling!” Arthur had somehow managed to pin a writhing Merlin’s arms behind his back with one hand, so that he could tickle his ribs with the other.
“No! Never! Not there! Don’t tickle me there! You’ll regret it…”
“Aha, I have found your weak spot. I will show you no mercy until you beg for Ribena,” said Arthur with a triumphant smirk.
Temporarily managing to extract himself, Merlin snatched Arthur’s wallet and then promptly dropped it when a particularly vicious tickle manoeuvre forced him to curl up into a helpless, long-limbed, protesting, struggling ball of mirth.
With a heavy sigh, Morgana finally stopped them.
“For heaven’s sake, you two, will you get a room?” she said, at which they sprang apart, each man looking sheepishly away from the other, crossing his legs and folding his arms in mirror-image.
Oh god. It was worse than Mordred thought. They were, as they had both strenuously asserted, both single. But by the look of their body language, they were also chin deep in doe-eyed crushes on each other. Although he had to admit that they did look cute together, it would make the job of getting into Arthur’s pants so much harder.
Quashing his sentiments, he rose to his feet. He had a job to do; he was being paid to seduce the gorgeous Arthur Pendragon, and seduce him he would. It was a dirty job, but someone had to do it.
For a fleeting moment he considered whether it would be worth making a play for them both at the same time, but dismissed it, because Morgana would probably make him share the money with Merlin.
“Actually, I think you’ll find that it’s my round,” he said, smiling as sweetly as he could at the three faces that swiveled towards him.
When Arthur’s eyes met his, he held them deliberately for a long moment, and, licking his lips, let his gaze slide down to Arthur’s flushed pink mouth and back. Seducing Arthur would not be any great hardship, he thought. Just the thought of that expressive mouth clamped around Mordred’s eager prick made a sharp curl of lust lick into his belly.
Arthur beamed, and it was quite the most enchanting smile Mordred had ever seen-at least until Merlin joined in with an even more powerful starburst of a grin that set his heart doing flip-flops and made his knees feel all weak. For a moment, Mordred felt like an alien spacecraft, pinned by two tractor beams. Shaking himself, and clearing his throat, he returned to the matter at hand, asking them what they would like to drink.
“Merlin will have a Ribena,” said Arthur, turning back to Merlin. “And I’ll have a pint of…”
“...London Pride, with a lemonade top,” said Merlin, finishing Arthur’s sentence for him, and staring at him with an expression of dewy-eyed adoration. With a sinking feeling, Mordred saw that Arthur wasn’t much better; he was staring at Merlin’s mouth with such intensity that Mordred thought they might just break off the conversation and start snogging there and then. “Because it…”
“...takes the edge off.” said Arthur, nodding. “And some pork scratchings, if that’s ok, Mordred, whereas Merlin would like a packet of plain crisps, please, because he is terrified that if he eats pork scratchings…”
“...then pigs everywhere will die horribly…” said Merlin, eyes widening. “It’s a fact, Arthur. And they are very...”
“...intelligent animals,” said Arthur.
A cribbage board and a pack of cards appeared on the table while Mordred was at the bar, and he grinned, because he was a monster cribbage player. Here was his chance to impress Arthur with his skill. He sat next to Morgana, opposite Merlin and Arthur, who were having some sort of furious argument about how to cut the deck, which they broke off when Mordred sat down.
While he watched, Merlin rummaged in a battered canvas bag - presumably the source of the crib board - and withdrew a bright red, hand-knitted beanie hat.
“I haven’t worked out how to knit visors yet, Arthur,” he said, “But I knitted you this for playing cards in.”
When Arthur put it on his head, Mordred could see what looked like writing, and when he leaned forward to decipher it, he could just about make out the words “Jack of Prats” and a red diamond symbol knitted into the red stripe along its base.
“It’s brilliant,” pronounced Arthur, reaching down below his chair and withdrawing an expensive-looking briefcase. “I got this made for you. I’m not a talented knitter like you, sorry.” Reaching into the suitcase, he took out a white baseball cap, with a red visor, and handed it to Merlin with an expectant air.
Merlin inspected this article with a joyful grin, and plonked it firmly on his head. “Jack of Numpties” graced its front, and large, red heart shape decorated its back.
The two of them looked up, then, questioningly, as if they were wondering where Morgana and Mordred had put their card-playing hats.
Feeling a little left out, Mordred shrugged. “Didn’t realise there was a dress code,” he said.
For heaven’s sake, he was going to have to act soon. All this domesticity was just too nauseating for words, plus it was not getting him any closer to Pendragon’s luscious lips, and the lovely dosh that he’d been promised if he managed to get his mouth on them, or better, get them wrapped round his dick. Morgana was nudging him, furiously, and he knew what that meant. It was time to make a move. Now, if he could just manufacture a way to get Merlin out of the room, then he could spend some time with Arthur, do his naive puppy-dog act. That normally did the trick.
He bent over, as if to reach for something from his own bag, and accidentally-on-purpose sent his full pint glass hurtling across the table towards Merlin. The intention was definitely to give Merlin a soaking, so that he’ll have to go to the gents to dry himself off, and he achieved this brilliantly. Bingo! But unfortunately the glass managed to bash against the cribbage board and skitter off the edge of the table, smashing a piece off it, so that the sharp edge fetched up against the hand that Merlin instinctively brought up to protect the card deck. Blood oozed from the wound, ruby against pale porcelain.
Several things happened at once.
“Come with me, Merlin, I can get you cleaned up,” said Morgana jumping to her feet, prepared to whisk Merlin away for first aid.
“I’m so sorry!” Mordred jumped to his feet, hands in the air, prepared to act the clumsy oaf and make amends.
But Arthur was clearly having none of it. His face clouded over, and he positively scowled at Mordred, looking almost vicious as his arm arced protectively around Merlin’s bony-looking shoulders.
“C’mon, Merlin, mate,” he said, ignoring Mordred’s babbling apology, speaking in a low voice that oozed concern. “I’ll get you cleaned up.” Hauling Merlin to his feet, he propelled him gently towards the gents’ loo.
Well that backfired spectacularly, thought Mordred, heart sinking as he went to the bar to get a cloth to mop up the mess, trying to avoid Morgana’s pointed looks.
“What the hell are you playing at?” she hissed when he returned and started to wipe the beer off the table. Beer sploshed noisily onto the flagstone floor. Damn, he’ll need to get a bloody mop, next, to clean the floor up. Mind you, maybe it’ll be better to get down on his hands and knees when Arthur comes back, he’s had great success with bottom-waggling as a seduction technique in the past. Better check there’s no broken glass down there, first...
“Mordred!” said Morgana.
“What?”
“Concentrate. You haven’t been listening to a word I say, have you?”
He shook his head, dumbly, and she sighed.
“Look, Mordred, maybe it’s not necessary for you to seduce Arthur. I know he’s had a long dry patch, but right now he seems to be doing fine all by himself. Maybe we should just let nature take its course between him and Merlin.” she said, patting his back.
“But we had an agreement!” Feeling a stab of disappointment and betrayal, Mordred couldn’t help his voice going all squeaky. He really needed that cash! Plus, Arthur was absolutely lush. Surely Morgana wouldn’t weasel out of it now. “You can’t back down!”
She regarded him seriously with those big green eyes that seemed like they were drilling into his soul, and then nodded. “All right, the agreement still stands, don’t look at me like I’ve murdered your puppy! I will pay up if you manage to seduce Arthur before Merlin does.”
Mordred exhaled, not realising til that moment that he’d been holding his breath.
Right. Game on, then.
This should be easy. By the looks of things, Merlin wasn’t even trying.
ooO8O8Ooo
When Arthur sat down and glared at Mordred, after cleaning Merlin up, the expression on his face was more murderous than lustful. The situation wasn’t irretrievable, but Mordred would have to work hard. It was time to turn on the charm offensive.
“I’m so sorry, Merlin,” he said, putting on his most wide-eyed, sincerely regretful expression, the one that Morgana always said made him look like he was about to jump off a cliff. “I really had no idea what I was doing, I’m such an idiot.”
“Aww don’t mention it,” said Merlin, smiling sweetly at him. “Arthur did a great job of cleaning me up.” When he turned to Arthur his expression turned positively sappy. “It’s fine, isn’t it Arthur?”
Arthur’s frown gentled slightly but he was still glaring at Mordred, his bottom lip pushed out in a dubious moue.
Damping down the pang that clenched his gut when he imagined them in the gents toilets, Arthur dabbing at Merlin’s lap with a damp cloth, Mordred understood that he needed to try a new tactic, and quickly, if he was going to retrieve the situation. Deciding to pander to Arthur’s ego, Mordred leant across the table.
“Morgana tells me you’re a nuclear physicist, Arthur?”
“Cosmologist, actually,” said Arthur. “Or I will be, if I can get funding for this research project. I’m a postdoctoral research assistant at the moment. I’m looking into the relationship between superstrings and black holes…”
Good. It was beginning to work; Arthur’s face softened further as he began to talk about his work. Mordred nodded, and prompted him in all the right places, and he was just beginning to think he was getting somewhere when...
“Arthur’s going to win the Nobel prize for Physics,” cut in Merlin, putting his hand on Arthur’s shoulder. It was all Mordred could do to avoid scowling at him for the interruption.
“Merlin’s going to win the Nobel prize too, he’s saving endangered species…” said Arthur.
“...from extinction,” said Merlin, nodding. “...One species at a time, starting with…”
“...the pandas… because Merlin’s a soft-hearted idiot who loves fluffy creatures…”
“...I’m not! It’s just that they are particularly vulnerable…”
“Let’s play cribbage,” said Morgana in an amused voice. The double act stopped, and Mordred heaved a sigh of relief.
ooO8O8Ooo
He’d never had a game of cribbage quite like this one. It’s not as if the game’s long history didn’t contain apocryphal references to people making up the rules as they go along, but this was ridiculous.
It started before the very first card was even dealt, when Arthur insisted that everyone followed Ealdorian old boys' rules, even though Mordred had no idea what they were. Arthur explained them, blue eyes wide open and earnest, but Mordred didn’t quite catch them all, because he was too distracted by the way Arthur’s mouth quirked up at the corner when he spoke. And then, to cap it all, Merlin started telling Morgana a story, and Merlin had a particularly hypnotic voice, so Mordred couldn’t help tuning in to the tale about Val, the numb-knuckled nutjob from Nuneaton. He wasn’t the only one: Morgana was chuckling at every word that Merlin was saying, which made Mordred feel really mad, because she was meant to be on his side.
Although, was she? Because clearly she had a vested interest, now in him not succeeding. If he actually got to have sex with Arthur she’ll have to fork out wads of cash. Not one to let a tiny setback ruin his plans, Mordred pursed his lips, more determined than ever.
“Get it?” said Arthur.
Oh shit. Mordred really had not been paying attention, so he just nodded.
“Yup, clear as day,” he said, gazing into Arthur’s eyes and biting his bottom lip. Clear as mud, he thought.
Looking a little bit nonplussed, Arthur cleared his throat. “Right then,” he said, looking away. “Let’s cut for dealer.” And with that, the game began.
After a few hands, Mordred began to relax and enjoy the game.
ooO8O8Ooo
“Fifteen-two, fifteen-four… wait!” Pulling a battered old phone from his pocket, Merlin pressed a button, extinguishing its shrill tones. “You know what that means?”
Shrugging, Mordred shook his head.
“It’s time to exchange our anti-Valentine’s presents,” said Arthur with a wide grin.
Clearly Mordred hadn’t been sent the memo about the anti-Valentine’s presents, and neither had Morgana.
By this time Merlin was reaching back into his canvas bag. “I made you this, Arthur,” he said. “I didn’t have enough money to pay for a proper Planetary Society one, and they’re not official anyway, so I made you my own unofficial one, and then stalked Professor Brian Cox after one of his Radio 4 shows to get him to sign it…”
A wide, incredulous smile split Arthur’s face while he examined the piece of card.
“I don’t believe it!” he crowed. “You named a star after me! And you got Foxy Coxy to sign it!” He flourished it across the table at them. Mordred could just make out that it said “NAME A STAR CERTIFICATE” in copper-plate handwriting. There was a picture of the night sky, with a circle round a white blob, and a line to a label that said “PENDRAGON!” in large letters.
Arthur folded Merlin in a powerful hug, patting him vigorously on the back as if to establish that it was merely affectionate and grateful, rather than anything more romantically inclined, but Mordred was not fooled.
“Best flatmate, ever, and I mean that most sincerely, Merlin, forget everything I said this evening.”
“It’s not official,” said Merlin with a shy smile, “but it’s unique…”
Arthur seemed to be breathing a bit heavily, and didn’t answer for a minute. When he bent to retrieve something from his briefcase, Mordred could swear that he dashed the back of his hand across his eye. Straightening, he handed a box across to Merlin.
“I got you this,” he said. “I wasn’t sure which one to go for.”
There was no finesse to the way that Merlin opened the package, which was wrapped in plain, brown paper with “Caution: Anti-Valentines Present. Do Not Open Unless You Are a Soft-Hearted Idiot!” written on the outside.
The unwrapped box had a picture of a panda on it, with the words “Zoological Society of London: Adoption Pack” inscribed in large letters on the outside.
“You adopted me a... panda?” The last word escaped Merlin in a tremulous whisper, and his eyes, trained on Arthur, shone suspiciously brightly in the dim pub light. Mordred could see Merlin’s adam’s apple bounce up and down as he swallowed.
Nodding, Arthur pointed at the box. “Look! See? It’s an adoption pack,” he said. “It’s got a certificate, and stickers and book-marks in it… Look, here’s a picture.”
He flashed the picture at them all.
“Awww. He looks just like you, Arthur,” said Merlin, taking a fluffy toy panda out of the box and hugging it to his chin.
“Don’t be ridiculous Merlin. He’s fast asleep with a paw across his nose.”
“Exactly!”
Arthur made a “rawwrr” noise and bent his hands into mock claws. “Take it back, or I’ll eat you!”
“Pandas are herbivorous, you prat!”
Morgana’s face as she watched this exchange had an expression of dawning slyness.
“So, how long have you two been in a relationship, then?”
Their faces snapped round to look at her, identical frowns of denial on their faces.
“We’re both single!” they said in unison.
ooO8O8Ooo
Mordred had a 10-point lead over Merlin, with about five to peg, and it was his box. If he got to peg the box, he’d have a good chance of winning, but Merlin got to take first, and had first peg. He tapped the deck, and crowed when he unearthed the Jack of Hearts. “Two for his heels!” he yelled, triumphantly, moving his peg along two spaces. Every little counts, at this stage of the game.
“Muggins!” yelped Merlin, pegging ten points. “I get an extra ten points for the Jack of Hearts!”
“What?”
“Ealdorian old boys rules, Mordred, old chap!” said Arthur with an apologetic shrug. “Merlin’s the Jack of Hearts, because he’s a soft hearted idiot, whereas I…”
“... Arthur is the Jack of Diamonds, because he’s…”
“...a girl’s best friend. Merlin being the girl. Obviously.”
That’s it. Mordred had had enough. He flung his cards down on the table. “I’m not playing any more,” he said. Tears were threatening to prick at his eyes and he was aware that he was looking and sounding like a petulant child, but he couldn’t help it, it was as if everyone around the table was conspiring to humiliate him, even Merlin's toy panda, which was staring at him accusingly.
He sat out the rest of the game with his arms crossed. He’d given up on the pointless seduction tactics hours ago; clearly Arthur and Merlin were as thick as thieves, and if they weren’t shagging yet, they bloody well should be. The evening was a shambles.
“So, little brother,” said Morgana, folding up her cards. “Looks like the game is over. We should go, soon, anyway. We’ve all got work tomorrow.”
“Not me!” said Arthur. “I’ve got the day off.”
Merlin was nodding. “Me too. Arthur told me I had to.”
Arthur grinned. “I’m going to take Merlin to meet his panda.”
“Really?” Merlin’s face was transformed by a smile of such unutterable joyfulness that Arthur looked like he was going to fall off his chair.
It made Mordred want to puke. When he felt a sharp elbow nudging at his ribs, he turned to see Morgana rolling her eyes, which made him feel a bit better.
“So, little brother,” she purred. “You’re spending Valentine’s day, with Merlin, at the zoo. But you’re not in a relationship.”
“That doesn't mean anything,” said Arthur, frowning. “It was the only day available. Next week the kids are all off for half term, I didn’t want Merlin to get knocked over by a gaggle of unruly ten-year-olds. Far better to go during a working week, and I couldn’t exactly give him his anti-Valentine’s present before tonight, so…”
Merlin was just hugging his toy panda to himself with a glazed expression on his face, repeating the words “Going to the zoo! With Arthur! To meet my panda!” in a happy voice.
Morgana leaned across the table so that she was almost whispering in Arthur’s ear, but Mordred could still hear her words.
“The Nile is a river in Egypt, too, little brother,” she said. And then she patted him fondly on the shoulder.
ooO8O8Ooo
A little later on, when they were all a bit giddy from the beer, except for Merlin, who seemed to be giddy anyway, despite the fact that he was only drinking Ribena, Mordred found his mind drifting a little. He was just wondering if there was a psychoactive compound in blackcurrents, when he noticed three faces turned towards him and realised they were expecting him to speak.
“Wha?” he said. When he realised his jaw was open and slack, he shut it again with a snap, and nearly bit his tongue off. Oops.
“I said, you and Morgana, are you… you know?...” said Arthur, pressing his lips together and clicking his fingers as if asking for help remembering the word.
“...Shagging,” supplied Merlin.
“Thassit,” says Arthur with a slightly glazed grin. “Are you shagging m’ half-sister, Mordred?”
“Your half-sister’s called Morgana, not Mordred,” says Merlin, dissolving into giggles.
“What on earth is *in* that Ribena, Merlin?” says Arthur. By the look on his face he’s trying to frown, but that’s not coming off terribly well, which makes Mordred start to giggle too.
“No,” Mordred says, between snorts. “No, I’m gay. Although I acknowledge that Morgana has splendid tits, they do nothing for me, unfortunately.”
Morgana punches him hard in the arm, and her caipirinhas must have been really weak or something, because it actually really hurts.
“Ow!” he says.
“In that case,” says Merlin, looking sober for a second, “we should introduce you to Percival. He’s single”
“Don’t be ruddiclous... riddy… ridiculiculous, Merlin,” scoffed Arthur, staring cross-eyed into the bottom of his pint. “Pershy would eat Mordrededed alive and shpit out the bits. We sh’d introdoosh him to Lancelot. ”
“I might quite enjoy that, actually,” says Mordred, breathing out in a resigned sigh, because Arthur would have been just fine, but clearly he was off the menu.
Merlin’s eyeing Arthur with a concerned expression on his face. “Arthur, you’ve gone all zazzy-eyed. Think I’d better take you home.” He bundled all the panda-ey things into his canvas bag, and then, with a grunt of effort he draped Arthur’s limp, unresisting arm across his shoulders and struggled to his feet. “Nice meeting you, Mordred!” he said. “And you, Morgana.” Without further ado, he staggered out of the pub, his charge weaving between chairs with all the expertise of an olympic ski-slalom competitor. From Holland.
They reached the door of the pub, and Merlin staggered, falling nearly to his knees, when Arthur suddenly turned to give Morgana and Mordred an exaggerated farewell wave.
Mordred exchanged a look with Morgana.
“So, that’s your single brother, and his single flat mate, then?” he said.
Morgana sighed, pursing her immaculately lipsticked mouth around her straw to suck up the remnants of her caipirinha.
“Sorry Mordred," she said. "It would appear that Arthur is slightly less single than he realises.” She smiled giving her eyes a mischievous twinkle. “Better luck next time.”
Also on A03 here
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Merlin/Arthur
Word Count: 4232
Summary: It's Anti-Valentine's Day, Thursday the Thirteenth, the day when single people go to the pub and play cribbage. Unfortunately for Mordred, it rapidly becomes evident that Arthur and Merlin are rather less single than they claim.
Disclaimer: I'm doing this for love, not money. The characters portrayed in this work of fiction are inspired by the BBC / Shine production "Merlin". I am only playing with them, and promise to put them back in their box when I finish.
Warnings: Cavity-inducing fluff. Seriously. There are pandas.On A03 here
“I thought you said they were both single?” Mordred whispered out of the corner of his mouth to his flat-mate.
“They are, as far as I know,” Morgana whispered back, a tiny frown puckering her otherwise flawless forehead.
It was Thursday 13th February. Morgana proclaimed it to be Anti-Valentine’s Day, and in honour of the occasion she’d promised him the opportunity to meet, and play cards with, not one, but two, gorgeous, single, gay men in their late twenties. As if that wasn’t enough to make it worth his while, she’d also promised him a large cash sum if he could be so kind as to end up having sex with the blond one, Morgana’s brother, who was, as promised, absolutely jaw-droppingly shaggable, as well as, according to Morgana, in desperate need of getting laid.
And, yet, here they both were, the two of them, hot, fit and fabulous, just as she’d promised, but seemingly already irrevocably attached to one another.
“Could have fooled me,” he said, still sotto voce, nodding his head across the table towards where Arthur and Merlin sat with their heads together-blond and midnight, like a yellowing black-and-white photograph-bickering amicably about who’s turn it was to get the next round in.
“It’s definitely my turn, you idiot,” Arthur gripped Merlin’s shoulder as he spoke, and shook him gently. “And anyway, I know you don’t have two pennies to scrape together. Let me get them in.”
“Don’t be such a plonker, Arthur, you got the last two rounds.” Merlin fumbled in his pocket with one hand, fending Arthur’s arm off with the other. “Let me get them, you prat.”
“You’re being even more idiotic than usual. You’re a lightweight, you’re only drinking Ribena, and it costs approximately 40p per pint, which is but a drop in the ocean. Let me get them, broccoli brain!” said Arthur, his speech somewhat jerky, being delivered, as it was, whilst attempting to thrust Merlin’s tatty-looking wallet back into his pocket.
“Are you saying you’re not up to the job?” said Morgana in an undertone, although there was no way that the others would be able to hear it, they were too distracted with each other.
Stung, Mordred shook his head. “Of course I am!” he said. Swallowing a long draught from his pint of London Pride, he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, the dark umber nectar going some way towards soothing his fragile nerves. He had to admit, their antics were quite amusing, but he was highly skilled in the arts of seduction, and he wasn’t here to enjoy the view. Oh no.
It was with an air of inevitability that the argument degenerated into a tickling battle, with Arthur’s guffaws and Merlin’s indignant squawks punctuating the air, as Mordred and Morgana looked on in reluctant fascination.
“Ouch! That hurt, you bully!” Merlin was batting Arthur’s hands away as if they were flies.
“Submit to me, oh spaghetti-armed weakling!” Arthur had somehow managed to pin a writhing Merlin’s arms behind his back with one hand, so that he could tickle his ribs with the other.
“No! Never! Not there! Don’t tickle me there! You’ll regret it…”
“Aha, I have found your weak spot. I will show you no mercy until you beg for Ribena,” said Arthur with a triumphant smirk.
Temporarily managing to extract himself, Merlin snatched Arthur’s wallet and then promptly dropped it when a particularly vicious tickle manoeuvre forced him to curl up into a helpless, long-limbed, protesting, struggling ball of mirth.
With a heavy sigh, Morgana finally stopped them.
“For heaven’s sake, you two, will you get a room?” she said, at which they sprang apart, each man looking sheepishly away from the other, crossing his legs and folding his arms in mirror-image.
Oh god. It was worse than Mordred thought. They were, as they had both strenuously asserted, both single. But by the look of their body language, they were also chin deep in doe-eyed crushes on each other. Although he had to admit that they did look cute together, it would make the job of getting into Arthur’s pants so much harder.
Quashing his sentiments, he rose to his feet. He had a job to do; he was being paid to seduce the gorgeous Arthur Pendragon, and seduce him he would. It was a dirty job, but someone had to do it.
For a fleeting moment he considered whether it would be worth making a play for them both at the same time, but dismissed it, because Morgana would probably make him share the money with Merlin.
“Actually, I think you’ll find that it’s my round,” he said, smiling as sweetly as he could at the three faces that swiveled towards him.
When Arthur’s eyes met his, he held them deliberately for a long moment, and, licking his lips, let his gaze slide down to Arthur’s flushed pink mouth and back. Seducing Arthur would not be any great hardship, he thought. Just the thought of that expressive mouth clamped around Mordred’s eager prick made a sharp curl of lust lick into his belly.
Arthur beamed, and it was quite the most enchanting smile Mordred had ever seen-at least until Merlin joined in with an even more powerful starburst of a grin that set his heart doing flip-flops and made his knees feel all weak. For a moment, Mordred felt like an alien spacecraft, pinned by two tractor beams. Shaking himself, and clearing his throat, he returned to the matter at hand, asking them what they would like to drink.
“Merlin will have a Ribena,” said Arthur, turning back to Merlin. “And I’ll have a pint of…”
“...London Pride, with a lemonade top,” said Merlin, finishing Arthur’s sentence for him, and staring at him with an expression of dewy-eyed adoration. With a sinking feeling, Mordred saw that Arthur wasn’t much better; he was staring at Merlin’s mouth with such intensity that Mordred thought they might just break off the conversation and start snogging there and then. “Because it…”
“...takes the edge off.” said Arthur, nodding. “And some pork scratchings, if that’s ok, Mordred, whereas Merlin would like a packet of plain crisps, please, because he is terrified that if he eats pork scratchings…”
“...then pigs everywhere will die horribly…” said Merlin, eyes widening. “It’s a fact, Arthur. And they are very...”
“...intelligent animals,” said Arthur.
A cribbage board and a pack of cards appeared on the table while Mordred was at the bar, and he grinned, because he was a monster cribbage player. Here was his chance to impress Arthur with his skill. He sat next to Morgana, opposite Merlin and Arthur, who were having some sort of furious argument about how to cut the deck, which they broke off when Mordred sat down.
While he watched, Merlin rummaged in a battered canvas bag - presumably the source of the crib board - and withdrew a bright red, hand-knitted beanie hat.
“I haven’t worked out how to knit visors yet, Arthur,” he said, “But I knitted you this for playing cards in.”
When Arthur put it on his head, Mordred could see what looked like writing, and when he leaned forward to decipher it, he could just about make out the words “Jack of Prats” and a red diamond symbol knitted into the red stripe along its base.
“It’s brilliant,” pronounced Arthur, reaching down below his chair and withdrawing an expensive-looking briefcase. “I got this made for you. I’m not a talented knitter like you, sorry.” Reaching into the suitcase, he took out a white baseball cap, with a red visor, and handed it to Merlin with an expectant air.
Merlin inspected this article with a joyful grin, and plonked it firmly on his head. “Jack of Numpties” graced its front, and large, red heart shape decorated its back.
The two of them looked up, then, questioningly, as if they were wondering where Morgana and Mordred had put their card-playing hats.
Feeling a little left out, Mordred shrugged. “Didn’t realise there was a dress code,” he said.
For heaven’s sake, he was going to have to act soon. All this domesticity was just too nauseating for words, plus it was not getting him any closer to Pendragon’s luscious lips, and the lovely dosh that he’d been promised if he managed to get his mouth on them, or better, get them wrapped round his dick. Morgana was nudging him, furiously, and he knew what that meant. It was time to make a move. Now, if he could just manufacture a way to get Merlin out of the room, then he could spend some time with Arthur, do his naive puppy-dog act. That normally did the trick.
He bent over, as if to reach for something from his own bag, and accidentally-on-purpose sent his full pint glass hurtling across the table towards Merlin. The intention was definitely to give Merlin a soaking, so that he’ll have to go to the gents to dry himself off, and he achieved this brilliantly. Bingo! But unfortunately the glass managed to bash against the cribbage board and skitter off the edge of the table, smashing a piece off it, so that the sharp edge fetched up against the hand that Merlin instinctively brought up to protect the card deck. Blood oozed from the wound, ruby against pale porcelain.
Several things happened at once.
“Come with me, Merlin, I can get you cleaned up,” said Morgana jumping to her feet, prepared to whisk Merlin away for first aid.
“I’m so sorry!” Mordred jumped to his feet, hands in the air, prepared to act the clumsy oaf and make amends.
But Arthur was clearly having none of it. His face clouded over, and he positively scowled at Mordred, looking almost vicious as his arm arced protectively around Merlin’s bony-looking shoulders.
“C’mon, Merlin, mate,” he said, ignoring Mordred’s babbling apology, speaking in a low voice that oozed concern. “I’ll get you cleaned up.” Hauling Merlin to his feet, he propelled him gently towards the gents’ loo.
Well that backfired spectacularly, thought Mordred, heart sinking as he went to the bar to get a cloth to mop up the mess, trying to avoid Morgana’s pointed looks.
“What the hell are you playing at?” she hissed when he returned and started to wipe the beer off the table. Beer sploshed noisily onto the flagstone floor. Damn, he’ll need to get a bloody mop, next, to clean the floor up. Mind you, maybe it’ll be better to get down on his hands and knees when Arthur comes back, he’s had great success with bottom-waggling as a seduction technique in the past. Better check there’s no broken glass down there, first...
“Mordred!” said Morgana.
“What?”
“Concentrate. You haven’t been listening to a word I say, have you?”
He shook his head, dumbly, and she sighed.
“Look, Mordred, maybe it’s not necessary for you to seduce Arthur. I know he’s had a long dry patch, but right now he seems to be doing fine all by himself. Maybe we should just let nature take its course between him and Merlin.” she said, patting his back.
“But we had an agreement!” Feeling a stab of disappointment and betrayal, Mordred couldn’t help his voice going all squeaky. He really needed that cash! Plus, Arthur was absolutely lush. Surely Morgana wouldn’t weasel out of it now. “You can’t back down!”
She regarded him seriously with those big green eyes that seemed like they were drilling into his soul, and then nodded. “All right, the agreement still stands, don’t look at me like I’ve murdered your puppy! I will pay up if you manage to seduce Arthur before Merlin does.”
Mordred exhaled, not realising til that moment that he’d been holding his breath.
Right. Game on, then.
This should be easy. By the looks of things, Merlin wasn’t even trying.
ooO8O8Ooo
When Arthur sat down and glared at Mordred, after cleaning Merlin up, the expression on his face was more murderous than lustful. The situation wasn’t irretrievable, but Mordred would have to work hard. It was time to turn on the charm offensive.
“I’m so sorry, Merlin,” he said, putting on his most wide-eyed, sincerely regretful expression, the one that Morgana always said made him look like he was about to jump off a cliff. “I really had no idea what I was doing, I’m such an idiot.”
“Aww don’t mention it,” said Merlin, smiling sweetly at him. “Arthur did a great job of cleaning me up.” When he turned to Arthur his expression turned positively sappy. “It’s fine, isn’t it Arthur?”
Arthur’s frown gentled slightly but he was still glaring at Mordred, his bottom lip pushed out in a dubious moue.
Damping down the pang that clenched his gut when he imagined them in the gents toilets, Arthur dabbing at Merlin’s lap with a damp cloth, Mordred understood that he needed to try a new tactic, and quickly, if he was going to retrieve the situation. Deciding to pander to Arthur’s ego, Mordred leant across the table.
“Morgana tells me you’re a nuclear physicist, Arthur?”
“Cosmologist, actually,” said Arthur. “Or I will be, if I can get funding for this research project. I’m a postdoctoral research assistant at the moment. I’m looking into the relationship between superstrings and black holes…”
Good. It was beginning to work; Arthur’s face softened further as he began to talk about his work. Mordred nodded, and prompted him in all the right places, and he was just beginning to think he was getting somewhere when...
“Arthur’s going to win the Nobel prize for Physics,” cut in Merlin, putting his hand on Arthur’s shoulder. It was all Mordred could do to avoid scowling at him for the interruption.
“Merlin’s going to win the Nobel prize too, he’s saving endangered species…” said Arthur.
“...from extinction,” said Merlin, nodding. “...One species at a time, starting with…”
“...the pandas… because Merlin’s a soft-hearted idiot who loves fluffy creatures…”
“...I’m not! It’s just that they are particularly vulnerable…”
“Let’s play cribbage,” said Morgana in an amused voice. The double act stopped, and Mordred heaved a sigh of relief.
ooO8O8Ooo
He’d never had a game of cribbage quite like this one. It’s not as if the game’s long history didn’t contain apocryphal references to people making up the rules as they go along, but this was ridiculous.
It started before the very first card was even dealt, when Arthur insisted that everyone followed Ealdorian old boys' rules, even though Mordred had no idea what they were. Arthur explained them, blue eyes wide open and earnest, but Mordred didn’t quite catch them all, because he was too distracted by the way Arthur’s mouth quirked up at the corner when he spoke. And then, to cap it all, Merlin started telling Morgana a story, and Merlin had a particularly hypnotic voice, so Mordred couldn’t help tuning in to the tale about Val, the numb-knuckled nutjob from Nuneaton. He wasn’t the only one: Morgana was chuckling at every word that Merlin was saying, which made Mordred feel really mad, because she was meant to be on his side.
Although, was she? Because clearly she had a vested interest, now in him not succeeding. If he actually got to have sex with Arthur she’ll have to fork out wads of cash. Not one to let a tiny setback ruin his plans, Mordred pursed his lips, more determined than ever.
“Get it?” said Arthur.
Oh shit. Mordred really had not been paying attention, so he just nodded.
“Yup, clear as day,” he said, gazing into Arthur’s eyes and biting his bottom lip. Clear as mud, he thought.
Looking a little bit nonplussed, Arthur cleared his throat. “Right then,” he said, looking away. “Let’s cut for dealer.” And with that, the game began.
After a few hands, Mordred began to relax and enjoy the game.
ooO8O8Ooo
“Fifteen-two, fifteen-four… wait!” Pulling a battered old phone from his pocket, Merlin pressed a button, extinguishing its shrill tones. “You know what that means?”
Shrugging, Mordred shook his head.
“It’s time to exchange our anti-Valentine’s presents,” said Arthur with a wide grin.
Clearly Mordred hadn’t been sent the memo about the anti-Valentine’s presents, and neither had Morgana.
By this time Merlin was reaching back into his canvas bag. “I made you this, Arthur,” he said. “I didn’t have enough money to pay for a proper Planetary Society one, and they’re not official anyway, so I made you my own unofficial one, and then stalked Professor Brian Cox after one of his Radio 4 shows to get him to sign it…”
A wide, incredulous smile split Arthur’s face while he examined the piece of card.
“I don’t believe it!” he crowed. “You named a star after me! And you got Foxy Coxy to sign it!” He flourished it across the table at them. Mordred could just make out that it said “NAME A STAR CERTIFICATE” in copper-plate handwriting. There was a picture of the night sky, with a circle round a white blob, and a line to a label that said “PENDRAGON!” in large letters.
Arthur folded Merlin in a powerful hug, patting him vigorously on the back as if to establish that it was merely affectionate and grateful, rather than anything more romantically inclined, but Mordred was not fooled.
“Best flatmate, ever, and I mean that most sincerely, Merlin, forget everything I said this evening.”
“It’s not official,” said Merlin with a shy smile, “but it’s unique…”
Arthur seemed to be breathing a bit heavily, and didn’t answer for a minute. When he bent to retrieve something from his briefcase, Mordred could swear that he dashed the back of his hand across his eye. Straightening, he handed a box across to Merlin.
“I got you this,” he said. “I wasn’t sure which one to go for.”
There was no finesse to the way that Merlin opened the package, which was wrapped in plain, brown paper with “Caution: Anti-Valentines Present. Do Not Open Unless You Are a Soft-Hearted Idiot!” written on the outside.
The unwrapped box had a picture of a panda on it, with the words “Zoological Society of London: Adoption Pack” inscribed in large letters on the outside.
“You adopted me a... panda?” The last word escaped Merlin in a tremulous whisper, and his eyes, trained on Arthur, shone suspiciously brightly in the dim pub light. Mordred could see Merlin’s adam’s apple bounce up and down as he swallowed.
Nodding, Arthur pointed at the box. “Look! See? It’s an adoption pack,” he said. “It’s got a certificate, and stickers and book-marks in it… Look, here’s a picture.”
He flashed the picture at them all.
“Awww. He looks just like you, Arthur,” said Merlin, taking a fluffy toy panda out of the box and hugging it to his chin.
“Don’t be ridiculous Merlin. He’s fast asleep with a paw across his nose.”
“Exactly!”
Arthur made a “rawwrr” noise and bent his hands into mock claws. “Take it back, or I’ll eat you!”
“Pandas are herbivorous, you prat!”
Morgana’s face as she watched this exchange had an expression of dawning slyness.
“So, how long have you two been in a relationship, then?”
Their faces snapped round to look at her, identical frowns of denial on their faces.
“We’re both single!” they said in unison.
ooO8O8Ooo
Mordred had a 10-point lead over Merlin, with about five to peg, and it was his box. If he got to peg the box, he’d have a good chance of winning, but Merlin got to take first, and had first peg. He tapped the deck, and crowed when he unearthed the Jack of Hearts. “Two for his heels!” he yelled, triumphantly, moving his peg along two spaces. Every little counts, at this stage of the game.
“Muggins!” yelped Merlin, pegging ten points. “I get an extra ten points for the Jack of Hearts!”
“What?”
“Ealdorian old boys rules, Mordred, old chap!” said Arthur with an apologetic shrug. “Merlin’s the Jack of Hearts, because he’s a soft hearted idiot, whereas I…”
“... Arthur is the Jack of Diamonds, because he’s…”
“...a girl’s best friend. Merlin being the girl. Obviously.”
That’s it. Mordred had had enough. He flung his cards down on the table. “I’m not playing any more,” he said. Tears were threatening to prick at his eyes and he was aware that he was looking and sounding like a petulant child, but he couldn’t help it, it was as if everyone around the table was conspiring to humiliate him, even Merlin's toy panda, which was staring at him accusingly.
He sat out the rest of the game with his arms crossed. He’d given up on the pointless seduction tactics hours ago; clearly Arthur and Merlin were as thick as thieves, and if they weren’t shagging yet, they bloody well should be. The evening was a shambles.
“So, little brother,” said Morgana, folding up her cards. “Looks like the game is over. We should go, soon, anyway. We’ve all got work tomorrow.”
“Not me!” said Arthur. “I’ve got the day off.”
Merlin was nodding. “Me too. Arthur told me I had to.”
Arthur grinned. “I’m going to take Merlin to meet his panda.”
“Really?” Merlin’s face was transformed by a smile of such unutterable joyfulness that Arthur looked like he was going to fall off his chair.
It made Mordred want to puke. When he felt a sharp elbow nudging at his ribs, he turned to see Morgana rolling her eyes, which made him feel a bit better.
“So, little brother,” she purred. “You’re spending Valentine’s day, with Merlin, at the zoo. But you’re not in a relationship.”
“That doesn't mean anything,” said Arthur, frowning. “It was the only day available. Next week the kids are all off for half term, I didn’t want Merlin to get knocked over by a gaggle of unruly ten-year-olds. Far better to go during a working week, and I couldn’t exactly give him his anti-Valentine’s present before tonight, so…”
Merlin was just hugging his toy panda to himself with a glazed expression on his face, repeating the words “Going to the zoo! With Arthur! To meet my panda!” in a happy voice.
Morgana leaned across the table so that she was almost whispering in Arthur’s ear, but Mordred could still hear her words.
“The Nile is a river in Egypt, too, little brother,” she said. And then she patted him fondly on the shoulder.
ooO8O8Ooo
A little later on, when they were all a bit giddy from the beer, except for Merlin, who seemed to be giddy anyway, despite the fact that he was only drinking Ribena, Mordred found his mind drifting a little. He was just wondering if there was a psychoactive compound in blackcurrents, when he noticed three faces turned towards him and realised they were expecting him to speak.
“Wha?” he said. When he realised his jaw was open and slack, he shut it again with a snap, and nearly bit his tongue off. Oops.
“I said, you and Morgana, are you… you know?...” said Arthur, pressing his lips together and clicking his fingers as if asking for help remembering the word.
“...Shagging,” supplied Merlin.
“Thassit,” says Arthur with a slightly glazed grin. “Are you shagging m’ half-sister, Mordred?”
“Your half-sister’s called Morgana, not Mordred,” says Merlin, dissolving into giggles.
“What on earth is *in* that Ribena, Merlin?” says Arthur. By the look on his face he’s trying to frown, but that’s not coming off terribly well, which makes Mordred start to giggle too.
“No,” Mordred says, between snorts. “No, I’m gay. Although I acknowledge that Morgana has splendid tits, they do nothing for me, unfortunately.”
Morgana punches him hard in the arm, and her caipirinhas must have been really weak or something, because it actually really hurts.
“Ow!” he says.
“In that case,” says Merlin, looking sober for a second, “we should introduce you to Percival. He’s single”
“Don’t be ruddiclous... riddy… ridiculiculous, Merlin,” scoffed Arthur, staring cross-eyed into the bottom of his pint. “Pershy would eat Mordrededed alive and shpit out the bits. We sh’d introdoosh him to Lancelot. ”
“I might quite enjoy that, actually,” says Mordred, breathing out in a resigned sigh, because Arthur would have been just fine, but clearly he was off the menu.
Merlin’s eyeing Arthur with a concerned expression on his face. “Arthur, you’ve gone all zazzy-eyed. Think I’d better take you home.” He bundled all the panda-ey things into his canvas bag, and then, with a grunt of effort he draped Arthur’s limp, unresisting arm across his shoulders and struggled to his feet. “Nice meeting you, Mordred!” he said. “And you, Morgana.” Without further ado, he staggered out of the pub, his charge weaving between chairs with all the expertise of an olympic ski-slalom competitor. From Holland.
They reached the door of the pub, and Merlin staggered, falling nearly to his knees, when Arthur suddenly turned to give Morgana and Mordred an exaggerated farewell wave.
Mordred exchanged a look with Morgana.
“So, that’s your single brother, and his single flat mate, then?” he said.
Morgana sighed, pursing her immaculately lipsticked mouth around her straw to suck up the remnants of her caipirinha.
“Sorry Mordred," she said. "It would appear that Arthur is slightly less single than he realises.” She smiled giving her eyes a mischievous twinkle. “Better luck next time.”