Kink Me! #23
Kink Me! #23
Closed to new prompts - go to the newest meme!Welcome to Kink Me! Merlin #23!
First, read the rules before you post anything. We freeze or screen anything that breaks the rules! Got a question? Ask the mods!
So you want to post a prompt or fill?
Your attention to detail helps make our archiving possible, and also tells us you've read the ( Read more... )
-
Arthur waited till Merlin was definitely gone, then dashed back to his own table to find Gwen. She was just finishing up dessert when he ordered Lance out of the chair next to her and sat down.
“Gwen, I need help,” he said.
“Why am I not surprised?” She pushed her plate away. “Have you had dinner?”
“What? No. Stop changing the subject!” said Arthur.
“Why not?” she said. “You need to eat, you need the energy.”
“Because it’s weird and Azerbaijani,” Arthur said. He’d only been here a day and he was already sick of bloody plov. “Look - where the hell is San Marino and what’s it doing here?”
Gwen frowned. “Oh, yes, I heard they had an entry this year,” she said. “It’s very unusual.”
“But where is it?” hissed Arthur.
“In Italy, I think,” she said.
“In Italy?” said Arthur. “So it’s not a country?”
“It must be a country, they’ve entered Eurovision,” said Gwen. She pulled her plate back and resumed eating.
Arthur scowled. “Oh, for - find me a map of europe, then! A good one! And find out if their entrant’s any good. I’ve met him and he’s all weird and Sammarinese and I can’t work him out.”
“Yes, fine, whatever,” said Gwen. “Now go and eat something.”
“I’m not hungry,” said Arthur. “I’ll be in my room. Don’t forget about the map!”
“Yes, yes,” said Gwen, weary.
Reply
“Morning,” he said.
“Here’s your coffee,” she said, setting it down on the table. “Here’s San Marino’s entry, I burned it onto a CD for you.” She put a CD in a blank case down next to the coffee. “And here’s an atlas of the world. Knock yourself out.”
“I will,” said Arthur.
He waited till she’d gone back outside, then spent a few frantic minutes leafing through the gazetteer (huh, gazatteer, that wasn’t a word he used very often), then marched triumphantly through to his dancers’ dressing room. It was a meagre selection - only Lance, Gwaine and Percival, Leon and Elyan were missing - but it would do.
“I found it!” he announced.
“What, San Marino?” said Gwen.
“No, the lost city of Atlantis - of course San Marino!” He held up the map. “It’s fucking tiny! It’s not even a proper country, it’s just a dot!”
“It’s too early in the morning for this,” said Lance. Percival swore graphically in Swedish.
“I don’t know what I was so worried about,” said Arthur. “It’s too small to even count.”
“Will you stop being so insecure?” said Gwen. “You’ll be fine, Arthur. Everyone loves you. My niece has a poster of you on her bedroom wall.”
“Really?” said Lance.
“I don’t have the heart to tell her what a prick he is,” said Gwen.
“Hey!” said Arthur. “And I’m not being insecure, I just want to know what I’m up against.”
“Listen to the CD, then,” said Gwen. “Did you have breakfast yet? I called catering, they’re bringing some food.”
“I already ate,” said Arthur. He hated going abroad. He needed to know exactly what was in his food, to keep his physique manly and teenage girl-pleasing. “I’ll be in my dressing room.”
The CD was still where Gwen left it. He’d got so wrapped up in trying to work out how there could be a whole european county he hadn’t heard of that he’d almost forgotten about the song. He put it on, and sat back to listen.
Reply
Reply
Reply
The CD player whirred to a halt. Arthut hit the play button, scarcely able to believe it, and Merlin’s voice filled the dressing room. His voice. Arthur didn’t even understand what he was singing about, but hell if he wasn’t half in love with that voice already.
Thankfully, the other half was filled with rage. He switched the CD player off so forcefully than he almost sent it toppling to the floor, and sank down lower in his chair.
A few minutes later, he was filled with a burning need to strategise. He leapt out of his chair and rushed out into the corridor to find Gwen and his dancers, then crashed quite spectacularly into somebody coming the other way.
The yelp of shock as they tumbled to the floor was in a horribly familiar voice.
“Oh, god, not you,” Arthur groaned.
“La Svezia?” said Merlin. He looked sleepy and a little disheveled, though that might just have been the result of getting knocked over.
Before Arthur could tell him to watch where he was damn well going, a loud, irate Italian (or possibly Sammarinese, Arthur supposed) woman was pulled Merlin to his feet and dusting him off and scolding him with as many frantic hand gestures as she could fit into the space of each sentence.
“Oh, don’t worry about me, then,” said Arthur.
The Italian woman looked him up and down. “You’re fine. Now go away and stop injuring our star.”
“I’m not injured!” said Merlin. He gave Arthur a despairing look. “Why don’t you look where you are going?”
“Why don’t I -” Arthur gaped. “You were the one who was in my way!” Merlin muttered something in Italian.
The angry woman took him by the arm and began to drag him away, shouting and gesticulating again. Merlin twisted around to glower at Arthur, then vanished into the crowd of technicians and people with clipboards and eastern european popstars. Arthur swore to himself, resisted the temptation to put his fist through the wall, and went to find his dancers.
Reply
second: I. love. you.
this is so fantastic and great and oh my god I'm in love with your story
*does happy dance*
thank you! *squishes you*
Reply
-
“We need a battle plan,” he said the moment he was in the dressing room. His dancers all looked various degrees of reluctant, irritated and oh god, it’s too early for this, shut the fuck up.
“We’re supposed to be starting rehearsals in about a hour,” said Gwen. “Can this not wait, Arthur?”
“No! Didn’t you listen to his song?” said Arthur. “I don’t even know what he’s doing here, he’s too good for this shit - and we need to figure out a way to beat him.”
“Break both his legs, then,” said Gwaine.
“Gwaine!” said Gwen, outraged.
“I’m kidding,” said Gwaine. “Arthur, stop taking this so seriously. And whatever you’re thinking of doing, don’t. I’ve met Merlin, he’s a nice kid.”
“Traitor,” Arthur muttered. He sat down in the nearest empty chair.
“He is an amazing singer, though,” said Gwen.
“And I’m not?” said Arthur.
Gwen bit her lip. “Well, you’re really more of a performer...”
“Look,” said Lance. “Arthur - you have a market, you have three countries worth of fans, probably more, and no-one even knows who this kid is. You’re fine. I believe in you.”
He sounds so heartfelt that Arthur can’t help but raise an eyebrow. “You haven’t heard him sing,” he said.
“He’s right, Arthur,” said Gwen. “He’s just a kid, he doesn’t have any experience. I doubt he has your stage presence. I really don’t think you should be strying to come up with battle plans or whatever. Just relax.” She takes out her phone and does flicking through the menus. “Germany is rehearsing at the moment, we’re up next. You should be getting ready.” She led Arthur towards the door and gave him a shove in the right direction.
Reply
Reply
They had their first proper dress rehearsal on Sunday evening, three days before the semi-final, and for some reason Arthur simply could not understand, Merlin was there. He’d tagged along, because apparently Gwaine had befriended him, because Gwaine was a traitor and a turncoat and would totally be kicked out of the group if Arthur had time to replace him before the semi finals, and now he was standing in amongst the crew in the empty auditorium, about to watch Arthur perform.
Somehow, it actually made things easier. It occurred to Arthur that, if he did this well enough, Merlin might piss his pants in fear when he saw what he was up against and run all the way back to San Marino.
Arthur’s song was called ‘Come to me, baby’, and he had never been one for modesty, so yeah, it was pretty fucking cool. Once they were up on stage, in costume, everything finally gelled.
He finished the last few triumphant notes, his dancers around him in dramatic poses, then found himself turning to Merlin for approval, but he couldn’t make him out for the lights.
He was still there once Arthur had been prodded out and directed by various crewmembers, though, waiting and smiling as if Arthur hadn’t been pointedly ignoring him all weekend.
“Well” said Arthur. “What did you think?”
“That was the most - what’s the word?” Merlin gesticulated frantically, snapping his fingers. Arthur waited, patiently, for him to say something like brilliant or wonderful. “Homoerotic!” Merlin burst out. “That was the most homoerotic thing I’ve ever seen.”
Arthur stared. “What?” he said.
“You know,” said Merlin. “Like - gay.” His smile faded as he saw just how appalled Arthur was. “You didn’t know?”
“It’s not homoerotic,” said Arthur. “It’s all perfectly wholesome!”
“But - they were all dancing in the little vests, and they then took your shirt off and you had a vest underneath, and then they were all touching you, and with the touching and the dancing - how did you not notice you were being so gay?” Merlin laughed.
“You just don’t get music, do you?” said Arthur. “Besides, it’s not a finished piece yet, we don’t have the pyrotechnics -” Merlin raised an eyebrow. “What?”
“There’s more?” Merlin said. “Don’t you think you have enough already, hmm?”
“Whatever,” said Arthur. “It’s a spectacle. That’s what this is all about.”
“I thought it was about the music,” said Merlin. “It seems I was wrong. I should have written a song with pyrotechnics.”
Reply
“I would ask if you write your own songs,” said Merlin, “but I asked around and they said you were very famous in La Svecia so I think not.”
“Not just Sweden,” said Arthur. “All of Scandanavian. I have the thirteen to eighteen year old female demographic in my pocket.”
“By acting like a stripper?” said Merlin. He had both his eyebrows raised now.
“Shut up, I am not a stripper!” Arthur hissed. “Stop making fun of my act!”
Merlin shook his head. “I’m not making fun!” he said. “I never said I didn’t like it!”
“Oh, so you like gay strippers, then?” said Arthur. Merlin was as unfazed as ever.
“I like all kinds of strippers,” he said, with a little shrug.
And of course Gwaine chose that exact moment to join the conversation. “Strippers!” he announced, marching up and growing an arm around Arthur’s shoulders, still flushed and a bit sweaty from rehearsing. “Did I hear strippers? I heard strippers!” He twisted round and yelled at the stage. “Hey guys, want to go see what Azerbaijanii girls are like?” There were murmurings of approval.
“You should really go back to the hotel,” said Gwen. “You’re all tired and you need to get some sleep. The first full dress rehearsal is tomorrow night -”
“Strippers,” said Gwaine emphatically.
“Strippers,” Arthur agreed. He would take a shower and then go and see sexy Azerbaijanii girls (assuming such a thing existed, he hadn’t seen much of the country outside of the airport, the hotel and the Eurovision arena yet) and get really really drunk.
Gwen made anxious sounds as she checked their schedule on her iPhone.
“Don’t worry, strippers are relaxing,” said Merlin.
“They are not,” said Gwen. “Arthur needs his beauty sleep.”
Arthur scowled. “Yes, thank you, Gwen, for making me look even gayer in front of the obnoxious Italian guy.”
“Sammarinese,” Merlin hissed.
“Whatever,” said Arthur. “It’s the same thing.”
“It isn’t,” said Merlin.
“It’s not even a proper country! It’s just a dot!” Arthur said, flailing a little. “It’s in Italy!”
“It’s tiny, yes, but it’s still a country, La Svecia.” Merlin sounded increasingly indignant.
“Will you please stop calling me that?” said Arthur. “My name is Arthur. Arth-ur.”
“Si, La Svecia,” said Merlin.
“Well, if you two are done bickering,” said Gwaine. “You up for strippers, Merlin?”
“I am always up for strippers,” said Merlin, with more extravagant hand gestures. It had to be an Italian thing, and it was very annoying.
“He can’t come, Gwaine,” Arthur said - in Swedish, because even he wasn’t quite that rude. “He’s competition. He’s the enemy. Stop fraternising with the enemy!”
“Don’t be ridiculous, you big drama queen,” said Gwaine. “Alright, we’ll meet in the hotel lobby in an hour so so, yeah? For the strippers!”
Reply
Reply
this just keeps getting better and better
I'm already happily awaiting THE STRIPPERS! :D
Reply
Reply
Reply
-
Arthur had been hoping that Merlin would change his mind, or possibly just forget about the whole thing, but no - when he got to the hotel lobby, Merlin was there, standing by a dramatically placed pot plant, dutifully waiting. Arthur pretended not to see him and tried to make himself as inconspicuous as possible, but it didn’t work.
“La Svecia!” Merlin shouted, bouncing up and down on his toes and waving. “Hey!”
He probably should have given up pretending not to notice Merlin at this point, but Arthur was tired and stubborn. Merlin bounced all the way across the lobby and touched him lightly on the shoulder.
“Stop that,” he said.
“Stop what?” said Arthur.
“Pretending not to see me,” said Merlin. “Ciao! How are you? Refreshed? Ready to go out?”
Arthur tried to grunt in a non-committal manner, but what came out was more of a snort. Merlin laughed. Damn him.
“You’re very… grouchy,” said Merlin. “Is that the word? Grouchy?”
“I’m not grouchy,” said Arthur. “I’m just not in a very good mood.”
“I thought that was what grouchy was?” Merlin frowned, little wrinkles forming in his forehead. It occurred to Arthur that he was paying far too much attention to Merlin’s face, and that he should stop at once. He folded his arms and cleared his throat.
“Yes, well,” he said. “Your English. Is not very good. I suppose.”
“My English is fine,” said Merlin. “Yours is too good. Are you really Swedish, La Svecia?”
“My father’s British,” said Arthur. Not that it was any of Merlin’s business. “And will you please stop calling me that?”
“No,” said Merlin, with a grin. He waved to a passing blonde girl. “Ciao, Lituania!”
“You’re absurd. Stop it,” said Arthur.
“You can call me San Marino if you like,” said Merlin brightly. Then he saw Gwaine approaching, and started bouncing and waving again, altogether too excited about seeing Azerbaijani strippers.
Gwaine was followed shortly by Percival, who was followed by Lance and Lyon, and then Elyan, and then Gilli and Morris, two of Arthur’s… assorted personnel, he hadn’t got all their jobs straight in his head, and then they all crowded out of the hotel and down the street.
“So you do know where you’re going, I assume?” Lace said to Gwaine.
“Of course,” said Gwaine. “You haven’t been out since we arrived?”
Arthur fell back a little, past Percival and Elyan and the assorted personnel. He suddenly wasn’t feeling very sociable. Unfortunately, walking backwards almost made him collide with Merlin yet again.
“Oh, right, you’re still here,” he said.
“Si, La Svecia,” said Merlin. “So why are you in such a bad mood?”
“I’m not in a bad mood,” said Arthur automatically.
“You just said you were.”
“Yes, well, now my dancers and assorted personnel are here and now I’m not in a bad mood any more,” said Arthur.
“And yet you’re still grouchy,” said Merlin. He was being obnoxious and Italian again.
Arthur gritted his teeth. “I am not grouchy! I just didn’t intend to be spending so much time with my bloody competition.” Merlin laughed. “I mean it!”
“You’re taking this much too seriously,” said Merlin.
“No, you’re not taking it seriously enough,” said Arthur. “This is a contest, and I’m here to win it.”
“That doesn’t mean you have to be so grouchy about it,” said Merlin. “Come on, La Svecia. It’s Eurovision! It’s exciting! Didn’t you watch it on the television when you were small?”
Arthur thought back to his childhood. He had, but he wasn’t going to admit that. “No,” he said flatly.
“Yes, you did, everyone did,” said Merlin. He sighed wistfully. “It was always ridiculous and fantastic. It’s the taking part that counts.” Arthur scoffed. “Besides, even if I did somehow manage to win, there is no way we could afford to host it. We would go bankrupt. I don’t think I could have that on my conscience.”
He sounded so grave that Arthur couldn’t help but laugh despite himself. Merlin seemed to take this to mean that they were on good terms now, and chatted all the way along the street, past all the strange Azerbaijani buildings and shops and people, into the stripclub.
Reply
They ended the night in the hotel bar, which was far too modern and shiny for Arthur’s tastes, crowded round a table. Merlin was still next to him, because apparently he was still under the impression that they were good chums now, and he was babbling away in a mixture of Italian and English. It took a while for Arthur’s groggy, drunken, stripper-addled brain to realise that he was talking about home - something to do with churches and villages and his mother’s pasta dishes and the whole thing is giving Arthur warm, squishy feelings in his stomach. He spent his whole childhood shuttled between England and Sweden and occasionally Germany and France and America and for a couple of months Japan, and he hasn’t really let up. He’d never had a home he could talk about so warmly while drunk out of his mind.
Merlin nudged him, and said, “You should come and visit San Marino. You’d like it!”
“I don’t really have time for holidays,” said Arthur.
“It doesn’t take long,” said Merlin. “You can see the whole country in a few days! I could show you around.”
“Hey, I’ll come see San Marino with you!” said Gwaine with a wink. Merlin beamed. “Sounds great! Like a fun-sized Italy!”
Then everyone seemed to concur, as if they all thought they were friends with Merlin, even though Arthur had expressly forbidden, and what did they all see in him anyway? He was their goddamn enemy, even if he did have a lovely accent and delightful cheekbones and a singing voice that did funny things to Arthur’s insides and left him in a daze… he was obnoxious and Italian and Arthur was going to go to bed.
“I am going to go to bed,” he announced, getting up from the table, a little wobbly. He ignored all the good-byes and good-nights and the questions, and stumbled up the stairs, groping around in his pockets for his keycard.
One fumbling, drunken wank and a hot shower later, he lay back on the hotel bed, and resolved not to let himself get distracted any more. He needed to focus all his energy on the competition this week. After all, he was Arthur Pendragon, and Merlin didn’t have a chance against him.
Reply
Leave a comment