Fic: Never meet your heroes
Part III
“There it is, Arthur, I can see Venice, look,” Merlin grabbed an exhausted Arthur by the shoulder.
Arthur leaned dutifully over (for the 100th time since JFK) to look out of the tiny window. These were going to be two very long weeks. Goodness gracious, Merlin could talk.
Almost 9 hours of Merlin’s constantly rabbiting on and all Arthur wanted was to go and drown himself in a canal. If he wasn’t so strangely adorable and entertaining (not that Arthur would ever admit to that) he could have happily strangled the man half way through the flight. Come to think of it, he had been tempted to do so in the departure hall at JFK.
They all had met ridiculously early with their respective families in tow. Well, Arthur had come on his own but he was used to it whereas Morgause was accompanied by her husband Cen and their children Tris and Izzy.
Merlin had said teary good-byes (the big girl) to his mum and uncle. His uncle Guy was an elderly man with the most disturbing eyebrows Arthur had ever seen and made him feel like he was scrutinised and found lacking. Hunith on the other hand was a small, kind looking woman who had hugged Merlin as if he was never going to come back. To Arthur’s horror she had then pulled him into a motherly hug with the whispered plea to look after her son. It was moments like this when Arthur felt the loss of his own mother more severely. He couldn’t dwell on his feelings for too long because Merlin was entertaining 7 year old Tris and his 4 year old sister Izzy with magic tricks and silly jokes. Honestly how old was Merlin again?
Arthur had regarded the spectacle with a snort. Merlin had only grinned and turned to him to lift coins from behind Arthur’s ears to the delight of the children. The others had just laughed at his scowling face. Finally the kids had totally trashed his macho posturing by pleads of ‘let us ride on your back, uncle Arthur, just like you did at the zoo on Saturday, please, please’.
Merlin, of course had been in stitches and why was his bitch of a cousin sitting at the back of the plane anyway?
“Dov’e? Dov’e?”
“Oh please Duvalli, stop asking me the same thing every two minutes. I already told you, I don’t know where he is.” Morgause clapped her hands over her ears. “Keep it down. I can’t hear myself think never mind talking in Italian on the phone. Si, Signor Emrys? Camera 223 - Non c’e? Yes, that’s what you keep on telling me. Grazie and ciao.”
Her face said it all.
Duvalli paced the expensive marble floor in his lavish palace shouting in Italian something not entirely flattering about Morgause if the looks the staff were shooting her were any indication. Ironically they all seemed to have forgotten that Morgause was fluent in five languages, one of them being Italian. She was too pissed off herself with Merlin and by extension Arthur that she really couldn’t be bothered to call Duvalli out on it. Besides, Duvalli might be a fashion genius but he was also the grumpiest man alive. In the 10 years that Morgause had known him, she had never seen him crack a smile.
Duvalli stopped pacing for a moment to glare at Morgause some more. “I’m jeopardising my career, my position with Harper and Vogue for a guy that doesn’t even show up. I’ll be the laughing stock of the entire industry.”
“He will be here. We will track him down eventually. Relax.”
“Quando? Mamma mia. It’s 3 o’clock now. He was meant to be here at 12.”
“I’ll try Arthur’s cell again, maybe he knows where he is,” Morgause offered just as Arthur burst through the doors. He had Freya in tow both of them laden with a basket of delicatessen and a bottle of champagne.
“Are we in time to celebrate the Quality Man? How does he look?” Arthur asked excitedly.
“Well if he’s here, he looks invisible, “she replied sarcastically.
“He didn’t show?”
“No sign, whatsoever. Any ideas Arthur before our friend Duvalli burst a major blood vessel?”
“I might have. Pack up for today. I will get him here at 9am tomorrow morning,” Arthur promised, “even if I have to drag him here by his over sized ears myself.”
A 10 minute walk later, Arthur found himself in front of Harry’s bar, one of Hemingway’s favourite watering holes and according to Merlin, also one of Professor Cavallieri’s places of meditation. How anyone could meditate surrounded by tourists and drunkards though, was a mystery to Arthur.
Arthur pushed through the doors and was immediately surrounded by stale cigarette smoke, cheap perfume and whiskey fumes. Obviously the smoking ban in public places didn’t apply to the famous locale. It took Arthur a minute to adjust his eyes to the dim lights and his lungs to the lack of oxygen. He took in the mix of patrons from stylish Venetians to big-bellied tourists and scantily clad women.
Arthur was almost sure he would find his wayward Merlin here when he spotted a group of nerdy looking students with glasses, scarves and skinny jeans. He weaved through the other guests on the look out for the big-eared idiot.
“Signore, Francesca would like a drink!”
Arthur took in the perfectly manicured hand on his forearm.
“Who’s Francesca?” he asked the beautiful blonde woman innocently.
“I’m Francesca,” the woman replied indignantly. Arthur tried to hide his amusement at her disbelieving face.
“Sorry darling. Just stopping to pick up the wife and kids.”
Arthur was all for female emancipation and had certainly picked up a lot of women like her in bars but that was a step too far.
“…I have no doubt that in less than 10 years, people everywhere will recognise that emphaticalism is the only way to bring about peace and reconciliation.”
A very familiar voice interrupted his musings. In the far corner of the room he found Merlin sitting at a small table with two old men who were busy drinking wine and nodding enthusiastically at Merlin.
Arthur sneaked up on them and threw himself on an empty chair next to Merlin.
“Fancy meeting you here.”
“Oh hi, Arthur,” Merlin smiled brightly at him, “you must meet my new friends, this is Pedro and his brother Giovanni.”
“How do you do, guys,” Arthur nodded amicably at the men grinning at him. “You don’t mind if I have a word with my young friend here.”
Giovanni and Pedro kept smiling and drinking.
“Arthur,” Merlin pulled his sleeve, “they don’t speak any English.”
Arthur blinked.
“Were you not discussing world peace just there - in English?”
“It’s part of emphaticalism. We don’t have to communicate with words. There’s no language barrier,” Merlin enthused, “they understand me through my body language, the tone of my voice.”
“Just like a dog then,” Arthur interrupted rudely.
“I shouldn’t be surprised that you don’t understand,” Merlin sounded disappointed.
Arthur looked suspiciously from the madly grinning Italians to the considerable amount of bottles on the table.
“Who paid for the drink?” he asked sharply.
“I invited them, of course.”
“Ah, I think I understand more than you think.”
Merlin glared at Arthur.
“If you are implying that they are here only for the…”
Arthur stopped him with a gesture of his hand.
“Let me try something. Gentlemen,” he addressed the two men with his brightest smile, “I’m very pleased to tell you that you not only look like pigs, you smell like ones, too.”
Giovanni and Pedro nodded happily at Arthur who continued in a sweet and friendly voice.
“I bet you sit here all day because your wives have thrown you out for having small dicks.”
The two men grinned maniacally. Arthur caught Merlin’s eye. “Defence rests its case.”
“This is not funny. “ Merlin got up, waved a quick bye-bye at his new friends and left the table with his shoulders slumped. For about 10 seconds Arthur felt guilty for kicking Merlin’s metaphorical puppy before he remembered why he was here in the first place.
“Wait, Merlin, “Arthur shouted after him, just before Merlin disappeared out the doors, heading towards the Danieli hotel.
“You talk a great deal about this empathy. Maybe it’s time you put your money where your mouth is.”
Merlin slowed down but didn’t stop. “What on earth are you talking about, Arthur?”
“Why don’t you throw some empathy my way?” he asked a flabbergasted Merlin.
“You are being cruel, now, Arthur,” Merlin sped up as the hotel came in sight.
“I don’t think so, Merlin. Duvalli and his team have been waiting for you back at the palazzo for the last 4 hours. We couldn’t reach you at the hotel and you didn’t answer your cell. I feel responsible for you. I talked Morgause and Uther into taking you. How do you think that makes me feel?”
Merlin stepped into the lift.
“I didn’t know Arthur. I woke up early. I couldn’t sleep. I was so excited to be here, so I went out to explore the city. Eventually I ended up in Harry’s Bar. I was hoping to meet Professor Cavallieri. My cell’s flat. I’m sorry. Do you want me to go the palace now?”
“No, it’s okay. I said you’d be there at 9 am tomorrow.”
“I’ll be there.”
“Promise?”
“I said I’d be there and I will,” Merlin sounded offended.
“Oh come on, don’t be mad at me,” Arthur grinned, “Can’t we go for a walk or a drink and get better acquainted, or something?”
“No, thanks, I’ve got to go to bed, early start tomorrow. I don’t want you spending your life retouching my pictures.”
Merlin almost sounded like he was joking but he was heading straight for his room, ignoring Arthur. And if he made a face like that when he was joking, Arthur did not really want to see his pissed off face.
Merlin stopped outside of his room and turned to Arthur.
“I’m not mad at you. I feel like an idiot. I’m disappointed and … and mad at you.”
And with that he slammed the door in Arthur’s face.
The next three days followed the same pattern.
Merlin stumbled into the breakfast room at 8 o’clock, bleary eyed, hair a mess. Promptly followed 30 seconds later by a chirpy Arthur who might or not might have been patrolling the corridor to ensure Merlin didn’t do another disappearing act.
They had breakfast together - after all it would have been stupid to sit at separate tables. The first morning it was just the two of them which was surprisingly nice, although true to form Arthur couldn’t help being an annoying prat.
“So made any plans already for hitting the town and scoring a few chicks?”
“Chicks? Seriously? I told you before I’m not interested in parties or bedding any girls. “
“Oh I see,” Arthur grinned,” you bat for the other team.”
“What,” Merlin choked, checking around the breakfast room if anyone had heard, “you cannot ask me things like that.”
Arthur grinned mischievously. “Sorry Merlin, for implying that you like cock.”
“Stop!” Merlin was furious and also furiously blushing. “If that is your subtle way of finding out if I’m gay, so yes I am. There I said it. Happy now?”
Merlin pressed his palms against his red cheeks. “Can you drop it now? I don’t really know you well enough for a conversation like that. “
Arthur felt guilty, honestly. Well a tiny bit. Which 20 or so year old student would get embarrassed like that? The tips of his ridiculous (endearing) ears were practically glowing red like beacons on a ship.
Arthur was intrigued. He had grown up in the fashion world. He was surrounded by beautiful people every day who thought nothing about dropping their clothes in nano seconds. He had seen more bare arses and tits by the time he was 15 than any professional porn star would ever see in their entire career.
“Tell me Merlin, have you ever had a boyfriend?”
“Drop it, I said, “Merlin glared but blushed even harder. “ I’m not having any fun here.”
Merlin was nothing like any of the people Arthur was usually surrounded by. He was oddly naive and wise, sensitive but not afraid to give back as good as he got when Arthur was poking at him. He was a mixture of contradictions with a dark sense of humour. Arthur surprisingly enjoyed his company and was not too happy when good natured Merlin invited Freya to have breakfast with them. For the rest of the stay Morgause and Freya joined them and while the girls only laughed at his growling face, Merlin assumed it was another display of Arthur’s prattishness.
Eventually Arthur had to admit (only to himself though) that he was having fun and hadn’t felt this kind of camaraderie for a very long time.
At 9am on the dot they all trooped through the doors of Palazzo Duvalli, Duvalli’s lavish home and studio right on Canal Grande.
Here, poor Merlin was tortured for the next 5 hours, getting his hair trimmed and told how to walk and stand. From experience they all knew how taxing Duvalli was to work with but Merlin was surprisingly patient when Duvalli had him try on every single outfit in the collection and didn’t complain too much when Duvalli’s seamstresses stuck him with needles.
Merlin also proved he was no push-over as a disbelieving Arthur, Freya and Morgause were witness to a polite telling off Merlin gave Duvalli who was ranting and raving at his staff. Nobody was more surprised than Duvalli though who probably had never been called a bully before.
Otherwise the fittings went according to plan. Freya and Morgause made arrangements for the fashion show in 10 days time where the “Quality Man” was going to be presented to the fashion world while Arthur took note of the outfits and drew up a plan for the shoot, possible locations, props etc.
Merlin was ordered not to shave till the first day of the shoot because Duvalli and Morgause insisted Merlin would look very suave with a bit of scruff and just thinking about it did all sorts of weird things to Arthur’s insides. Breaking point came late in the afternoon of day 2 when Merlin was parading around in a fitted tuxedo swaying his hips. He sashayed along Duvalli’s catwalk, winking and smiling at a whistling Freya.
Arthur had to grab his notes to cover parts of his misbehaving anatomy, mumbled something about location scouting and ran - literally. Only after he had bumped into half a dozen rather annoyed tourists he came to his senses. He stopped at the small bar tucked into the corner at the bottom of Rialto Bridge and ordered a Lowenbrau. The popular German beer was served in glasses the size of a gold fish bowl - just what Arthur needed. He threw half of the first one down in one go and then told himself to calm the fuck down. Although he had always been attracted to men as well as women Merlin was nothing like his usual type, so he attributed his temporary madness to the fact he hadn’t got laid for quite a while.
The next morning at breakfast he ignored the questioning looks everyone directed at him. He’d decided to pretend that nothing was wrong, absolutely nothing.
Part IV