Kink Me #37
Kink Me! #37
[Flat Kink Me! #37 is flat!]
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"Oi!" Merlin sticks his head out the door of his classroom. "Shut it! My kids are trying to take a test here!"
"Oh sorry," the new custodian pulls his headphones out of his ears and turns around. He's tall, blond, and somehow familiar, although Merlin's mostly distracted by the impossibly pert arse on the impossibly fit body in front of him. And he's carrying a Dolce and Gabbana backpack. Merlin loves Dolce and Gabbana.
"I'll try to keep it down," Dolce says with a wink. Merlin does *not* watch Gabbana-boy bite his lip, push his Beats back into his ears, and continue pushing the oversized trashbin from the art classroom down the corridor. Just like he doesn't spend a hair too long admiring Dolce's arse as he walks down the corridor. Definitely not.
Blond-and-Fit turns the corridor, and Merlin can hear the singing resume. "I take A DEEP BREATHE - "
"Wanker," Merlin mutters, before stepping back inside and pulling the classroom door shut.
-
"Hey!"
"Hey you!"
Merlin turns away from jars of Branston pickle and Barry's Gold and looks around. When a few moments of searching don't turn up anyone he recognizes, Merlin gives it up as a bad job and continues perusing the shelves of the expat. $10 for a packet of hobnobs? Fucking Americans.
"Oi, you!" Merlin ignores the call, pulling down packets of hobnobs and Barry's and piling them in his shopping basket.
"You've got to be fucking kidding me, ears like that and you still can't hear me?!"
Merlin *does* turn around this time, because as large and easily reddened as his ears are, no one - NO ONE - makes fun of The Ears. Not since Merlin's Mum pointed out that The Ears were a bit of a family trait, and he can't in good conscience allow someone to insult his mother, even if only by proxy.
It's Blond-and-Fit. Or maybe Blonde-and-Fit, considering that Dolce is looking absolutely *spectacular* in full drag, complete with a waist-length, expensive-looking blond wig, thigh-high fishnets, and stilettos that tower over Merlin's 6'4 frame.
"Can I help you?" Merlin asks, biting his cheek because he mother would never forgive him if he was rude to a lady.
"Yes. You can meet me here -" Blond-and-Fit takes something out of her? - his? cleavage and shoves it down the neck of Merlin's shirt, long nails scratching Merlin's chest. "At 11 tonight. Bring the hobnobs."
Merlin eyes Blond-and-Fit's manicured red nails and muscular forearms, and nods.
-
"Fuck!" Merlin should have looked at the address before this. He knew he should have. Why didn't he just look at the fucking address?
The address of Blond-and-Fit's Kink House of Hobnobs and Shame - it's a working title - turns out to be Merlin's school. Where he works; and where Dolce, Gabbana-Boy, Blondie-of-the-fit-bod-and-biteable arse is a STUDENT. Because Merlin has just remembered why Blond-and-Fit looked so familiar.
Merlin had the misfortune of teaching one half of Uther Pendragon's twins of terror three years ago. It lasted two weeks, before Morgana-the-she-witch got into a screaming bitch match with her not-quite-Irish twin (the virtues of half siblings) Arthur Pendragon. And instead of throwing chairs and leaving welts and crying to Daddy like most future debutantes, Morgana waited a full two weeks after the incident and then snuck a live adder into the school, which she left in her half-brother's gym locker and which then proceeded to bite three members of the rugby team, landing Arthur in the hospital for nearly a month. Uther had some concerns about sending his son to public school after that, no matter how many commendations their academics and rugby team got.
Gaius, the newly-appointed principal and an old friend of the Pendragon family (not to mention Merlin's boss) has been saying something about getting Uther to see the error of his ways and return Arthur to his rightful place or some such rotter for weeks now. Merlin knew he should have been paying more attention at staff meetings.
And now Arthur Pendragon of the biteable arse and the godlike thighs is waiting for Merlin, in Merlin's classroom, presumably in fishnet thigh highs and with some plan to do obscene things to Merlin. With hobnobs.
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Warnings: Underage (16+), implied/fantasy, but nothing graphic.
-
Merlin considers himself a decent person.
He pays his taxes. He helps old ladies cross the street. He does the shopping for his next door neighbor Mr. Kilgarrah who, at the age of ninety-six, still lives in the 5th floor walk up apartment he purchased in the 1940s.
Merlin is not going to fuck a seventeen year old boy. Despite how shapely said seventeen year old's thighs are.
Merlin pulls a half-empty bottle of generic vodka out from the cabinet above his fridge and downs a shot. It is 10:30. The Center for Arts, Music, Engineering, Leadership and Operations Technology (CAMELOT) is located on W 81st street, overlooking a very picturesque part of the Museum of Natural History grounds. Merlin lives in the heart of Hell's Kitchen on W 50th, overlooking his neighbor's dustbins. At this time of night, Camelot is an easy 15 minute tube ride away. Merlin often spends Friday nights in his classroom (because he has no life) planning next week's lessons or using the school's JSTOR account to do research for his thesis.
Except this Friday. Because this Friday, Arthur Pendragon might be waiting for him in fishnets and stilettos, and Merlin considers himself a decent person.
Merlin runs his fingers through his hair and puts the vodka bottle down on the counter, sighing. Seventeen. Seven-fucking-teen.
The part Merlin feels most guilty about - and then feels even more guilty about for feeling most guilty about - is that he doesn't have any way of contacting Arthur to let him know Merlin's not coming. He could try calling his classroom, but the likelihood of Arthur picking up a strange phone in an unknown classroom is slim to none at best. And god knows he's not going to go over there. Merlin considers himself a decent person, but he's not a saint.
So instead, Merlin calls Gwaine.
-
"Merlin!" Gwaine's sweaty and his shirt is missing at least two buttons, and he's definitely lost the hipster glasses Merlin saw him with last week, which can only be called an improvement.
"Gwaine!" Merlin hates clubs. He hates the loud, unmelodic music and the thrash of sweaty bodies and the way he feels like his lungs are going to give way every time he tries to speak to the person next to him.
"Let's dance!" And now Gwaine's pushing Merlin into a writhing mass of people who all seem to be bumping and grinding in time to the gorilla-pounding of the music. Merlin is not drunk enough for this.
But then he spies a guy in tight jeans with long-ish blond hair and a spectacular arse. The guy turns, and Merlin's horrified to realize that he's *disappointed* when he realizes that the guy has brown eyes, not blue, and he's a good decade older than Merlin's twenty-four years.
Fuck it. Dancing might not be a bad idea after all.
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Gwaine is ten feet away surrounded by twinks, who all seem to be taking turns making out with him.
Merlin massages his temples. He can feel a headache coming on.
"Merlin?"
Merlin turns. "MORDRED?!?"
Merlin's sixteen year old brother is standing next to him, looking exactly like the twink Gwaine was making out with a minute ago in black eyeliner and skin-tight jeans and a - was that new? - tongue piercing.
"The HELL, Mordred?!?" Merlin was furious. "How did you even get in here?!? The bouncers card at the door!"
"My ID says I'm 22," Mordred says casually, stealing the lime out of Merlin's club soda. "Don't tell Mum, ya?"
"Are you MAD? Of course I'm telling Mum! But first we're getting out of here!"
Mordred makes a face. "Don't be a bitch, Merls. It's just fun. I wouldn't have come over to say hi at all if I thought you'd squeal. Gwaine said you were cool now."
"GWAINE said? What does Gwaine have to do with- Oi! Gwaine! Get your arse over here!"
Gwaine sauntered up, detaching his face from twink #7 and throwing an arm around Mordred. "What's up, Merlin? I see you've met Mordred here."
"Yeah, we've met," Merlin growls. "About ten years ago, when my mum married his dad. What the hell, Gwaine? He's SIXTEEN!"
Gwaine jumps back. "Woah." Gwaine looks between Mordred and Merlin. "This is Mordred? *The* Mordred?"
"Yes, you arse!" Merlin's face is red with indignation. "I can't believe you'd touch him, you pervert! Sixteen!" And now Merlin feels even uglier, because Arthur's face is swimming behind his eyes and he just wants to tear Gwaine limb from limb for even thinking -
"Hey!" Gwaine holds his hands up in surrender. "I thought he was twenty-two, man. The bouncers card at the door."
"He's the size of a twig, peabrain!" Merlin ignores Mordred's glare of indignation. "Does he LOOK TWENTY-TWO?" Merlin grabs Mordred's wrist, holding his brother there before he can slip off into the crowd of dancers.
"I thought he was just another twink!" Gwaine cries. "Whatever, man, you can't expect me to give everyone a fucking background check."
"Screw you," Merlin spits, pulling Mordred over to him. "I'm taking him home. Well done, Gwaine."
"Hey, don't get your panties in a bunch, Merlin - Merlin!" But Merlin's gone, towing Mordred alongside him, ignoring Gwaine's yells.
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"Mordred, what were you thinking?" And now Merlin's grateful that he's regained control over the anger in his voice. He'll still be having words with Gwaine tomorrow, make no mistake, but Mordred is sixteen and an idiot and Merlin can't say he hasn't done stupider things in his time.
"Screw you," Mordred says bitterly, and now Merlin can see how Mordred's nose is scrunched up, his face twisted in the pink light from the neon signs overhead. "Just take me home and deliver me to Daddy and go back to your perfect life."
"Mordred, I'm sorry," Merlin says, putting the coat back over Mordred's shoulders and crossing his fingers that he won't have to rescue it from the river. "I freaked, and I shouldn't have said those things. But you scared me. Gwaine's not a bad person, but he's got the emotional maturity of twelve year old and no plans to change that. And those clubs aren't always safe."
"You hypocrite," Mordred snears. "You fucked plenty of guys when you were my age. And I know you went to clubs because we shared a balcony, dumbass, and I'm not naive enough to think you were sneaking off to the library at three in the morning."
Merlin closes his eyes. Is this his punishment for Arthur? Damn it, he's got to stop thinking about Arthur. He was doing so well a minute ago.
"Yes, I did stupid things. I hope you learn from my mistakes."
"Whatever," Mordred snorts, and Merlin decides that silence is the better part of valor tonight.
Merlin's phone rings. It's his mum.
"Merlin?!" Hunith's voice is frantic. "Merlin, have you heard from Mordred? He's not in his room and Cenred's tried all of his friends and -"
"Hi, Mum," Merlin says. "Yeah, I've got him. We're coming home."
"Oh, thank goodness," Hunith sighs. "CENRED?" Hunith calls over the phone, and Merlin winces at the sudden increase in volume. "Cenred, it's all right, Mordred's all right, Merlin's got him -"
"Merlin?" Merlin hears his stepfather say in the background. "Thank god. Why was he at Merlin's?"
"Why did Mordred come to yours without telling us, Merlin?" his Mum asks into the phone. "We wouldn't have minded, he only had to say something or leave a note -"
"We're almost home, Mum," Merlin cuts her off gently. "I'll let him explain."
"Oh, all right - CENRED, THEY'RE COMING HOME -" Merlin winces again. "Merlin, dear, shall I make up your room for you? It's rather late."
Merlin smiles. "No, it's all right, Mum, I've got to meet Morgause early tomorrow morning. But thank you."
"Of course, dear," Hunith says. "See you in a bit. I love you."
"Love you, Mum."
Mordred glares at Merlin. "Couldn't cover for me, could you?"
"What, because you've shown such spectacular remorse and I now feel completely secure in the fact that you've seen the error of your ways and will never do something that dangerous again?" Merlin shoots back. "Think again."
"You're such an arse, you know," Mordred bursts out. "Everyone else has siblings who take them out to clubs and buy them drinks and actually TALK to them once in a while, and here I am, stuck with you."
Merlin grits his teeth. "I can't help you break the law, Mordred, but I care about you. You know I do."
"You've got a funny way of showing it," Mordred spits. "Whatever, I don't even care."
"Mordred -"
"Stay away from me." Mordred runs the last few blocks to his building and unlocks the door to the lobby. Judging by the numbers speeding past on the elevator's display, he's already on his way to Hunith and Cenred's apartment when Merlin catches up to him.
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"Mum." Merlin hugs his mother, breathing in the familiar scents of ponds' cold cream and cinnamon. "Have you been baking again? What's wrong?"
Hunith sighs. "You know me too well. Nothing's wrong, I just thought I'd make something for you to take to your students on Monday."
"Mum," Merlin laughs. "I can't keep bringing my students cookies, they'll never take me seriously."
"Well, give them to Gaius, then. You know Alice loves my snickerdoodles."
Merlin hides a smile. His Mum would never forgive him if he told her that, wonderful as her baking is, half the time the treats she gives Gaius wind up in the stomach of Alice's much-doted-upon pet tarantula, Manticore. Alice was such a pushover when it came to that monstrosity.
"I'll do that. Where's Cenred?"
"He and Mordred are speaking in the study." Hunith grimaces. "Just wait until you have children, Merlin."
"Mum! We both know that's a long way off."
"Just because it didn't work out with you and Will is no reason to loose faith. What about that nice bloke you're always hanging about with? Gwaine?"
Merlin gulped. "Gwaine and I are strictly friends, Mum. He's really not my type."
"Oh, well, what about one of these new apps, then? Eleanor - you know, Eleanor, from the Ladies' Aid - Eleanor was telling me there are all sorts of apps out there now to help gay men find each other. She mentioned one - odd name - Grindr?"
Merlin chokes a little. "Mum, trust me when I say that I'm not ready to date right now. I've got to focus on my thesis. And those apps aren't really for that sort of dating anyway."
"Merlin, dear, I'm not ancient, you know, there's nothing wrong with a little casual sex -"
"Okay, Mother," Merlin interrupts, hugging her again briefly. "I'll see you on Wednesday, yeah? Mother-son dinner tradition?"
"Sounds lovely, dear." Hunith kisses Merlin's forehead and presses the jar of cookies to his chest. "Take these to Gaius for me. I don't want Cenred to eat them all; he needs to watch his sugar."
"I will. Give my best to Cenred. And bring Mordred on Thursday, if you like."
"I will." Hunith beams. "Say hello to Morgause tomorrow."
"Of course. Goodnight."
"Goodnight, love."
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Merlin woke to sunlight streaming through his window and the faint sound of bells from the Orthodox Church nearby. He relaxed and let his body sink a little further into the feathery mattress his mother and Cenred had gifted him with when he moved into this apartment. God, he loved his mattress.
Bach’s Sonata in E for flute began to drift gently through the flat. Merlin smiled and opened his window a little further so he could hear Mr. Kilgarrah practicing on his balcony. It must be 6AM.
7:30 saw Merlin showered, dressed, and on his way to Columbia for a meeting with his lab manager. He waved at Percy behind the coffee cart as he passed, promising himself something coffee-scented and sugary as a reward for not losing his temper with Morgause.
--
“That’s quite an ambitious model,” Morgause leaned over Merlin’s notebook, looking fresh as a daisy in an impractical white dress and sky-high white Louboutin’s. Merlin swallowed his annoyance at her outfit. If anyone else had shown up to work dressed like that, Morgause would have torn them to shreds, written them up, and kicked them out. But he supposed being lab manager had its perks.
“I think it’ll work,” Merlin said resolutely. “Intracardiac injection’s not new; people have been using it for years. It’s just new for this lab.”
“But we’ve had a lot of success with the subcutaneous xenograft model,” Morgause pointed out, lightly trailing her finger over a line in his notebook.
“I want this paper to be about metastasis, and this model will guarantee that as long as we use a SCID mouse.”
“You can’t be sure,” Morgause said. “I still don’t think you need those mice. They’re four times the price of the athymic nudes.”
For an answer, Merlin picked up the thirty page literature search he’d compiled for just this argument and let it drop on the table in front of Morgause. She raised her eyebrows, but didn’t comment.
“I’ll think about it,” she concluded.
Merlin gritted his teeth. “Nimueh already approved the plans.”
Morgause just smiled. “I’ll think about it.”
--
Merlin stormed out of the lab, imaging gristly endings for Morgause’s Louboutins and cursing the ingrained Britishness that kept him from giving her a piece of his mind. He headed straight for the nearest coffee shop, which turned out to be a Starbucks - screw it, it would have to do - and ordered an espresso drink heavily laced with whipped cream, caramel, and cinnamon.
“You sure that’s coffee? It looks like a sundae.”
Merlin groaned inwardly. Fuck, why did this kid keep turning up? It was Sunday, goddamn it.
“Mr. Pendragon,” Merlin said pointedly, turning away from the window to raise an eyebrow at Arthur, who looked deliciously sleep-tousled with wild bedhead and a wrinkled t-shirt. Merlin took an overlarge gulp of his drink and adamantly did not notice the pillow crease on Arthur’s cheek.
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“I don’t hate Ellie Goulding,” Merlin started. “Well, okay, maybe I do. But you made her worse, if that’s possible.”
“Oh!” Arthur mock swooned as if Merlin had delivered a fatal blow. “I’m hurt, Fievel.”
“Fievel?”
“Well, I can’t well call you Dumbo,” Arthur grinned. “Blithely out of character. But I can’t let those ears pass either.”
“Be careful, Blondie,” Merlin twitted. “I’m Mr. Emrys until the end of the month.”
“Yes,” Arthur agreed.
Merlin gave Arthur a weighted look. “You knew, then.”
“Yes,” Arthur grinned cheekily.
“And you asked me out anyway?” Merlin wasn’t whether to be angry or concerned.
Arthur shrugged. “Doesn’t bother me unless it bothers you.”
Merlin eyed him suspiciously. “But it does bother me.”
“Oh, well, I’ll be a college student in a few months anyway,” Arthur said dismissively. “I’ll just wait until after the final to ask you out.”
Merlin looked at Arthur slack-jawed. He wasn’t sure that he had ever felt so wrong-footed by anyone before. Including Morgause.
“D’you know which Uni you’re going in the fall, then?” Merlin asked curiously. “Only the gap year isn’t really traditional in America, is it?”
“It is not, sadly,” Arthur agreed, stretching his hands over his head and settling further into his chair. He gestured to the seat next to him, and Merlin, against his better judgement, sat down.
“I’m thinking about Columbia, actually,” Arthur said. “It’s a bit close to home, but I think the benefits outweigh that.”
“Oh?” Merlin quirked an eyebrow. “What do you want to do then? Business, like your father? Art?”
“God no,” Arthur laughed. “Bioengineering.”
“Really?” Merlin turned to look at Arthur properly, assessing. “Huh. Funny, I didn’t expect that.”
“I’m more than up to par, I assure you,” Arthur said with a slightly tight look in his eyes.
“No! No, I never meant - of course you’re bloody clever, I just - I just thought you might want to do something more social. Not everyone’s like me, happy to be in a basement lab at all hours of the day and night.”
Arthur smiled again, a bit more gently this time. “I bet you’re quite social when the occasion calls for it.”
“Well, I hold my own,” Merlin allowed. “So, do you know what area you’d like to go into it?”
“Neuromuscular implants,” Arthur said immediately, and Merlin felt an awkward wave of relief. One Pendragon in the lab at the time was quite enough.
“Wow. That’s quite an interesting area. I think Alice’s boss is working on that right? Dr. Caerleon?”
“Yeah. I’m hoping that Aunt Alice will let me work in her lab this summer.” Arthur smiled even more brightly, and Merlin had to fight back a gasp. Bloody hell, Arthur was seventeen and Merlin was not a fourteen year old girl; he had to stop letting Arthur affect him like this.
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Merlin fidgeted. He straightened one of the pencils on his desk so that all five were parallel to the top edge of the table again, and then leaned back in his chair, tucking one hand under his thigh.
He wasn’t nervous.
There was no reason to be; just because Arthur Pendragon was scheduled to attend his class this morning, that didn’t mean-
Nevermind.
Merlin had decided that there was only one way to approach this. He was going to have to mentally separate Arthur Pendragon from Blondie-with-the-biteable-arse. It shouldn’t have been hard. After all, CAMELOT students wore uniforms. Arthur was probably going to show up today looking just as much of a twat as everyone else in that hideous red and white checkered thing with a bad pudding-bowl haircut instead of the glorious tousled number he was sporting the other day. He certainly wasn’t going to show up in drag.
Ergo, Blondie-with-the-arse and Arthur Pendragon were effectively two separate people. The former, an object of Merlin’s daydreams whom he would never see again, and who he was really okay with leaving a fantasy. The latter, a student who had drawn the unbearably short straw of having to come back to a school where he had nearly died; and whom Merlin was going to have to grade fairly but also with enough leniency to make sure that Uther Pendragon didn’t feel the need to start setting up parent-teacher conferences.
Merlin wasn’t sure where the pillow-creased Arthur from Sunday morning belonged, but he was fairly confident that that incarnation wasn’t about to step into his classroom.
The bell rang. Merlin took a deep breath, and opened the door to let the students shuffle in.
“Good morning, class. As you might remember, your final exam for this class is in two months time…”
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“Seventeen? Really?” Lance was grinning a little too much, Merlin decided, before concluding that he wasn’t nearly drunk enough for this conversation and picking up the bottle.
“Yup,” Merlin said, after swinging back more vodka than he really should have and wiping his mouth on the back of his hand, eyes screwed up against the burn of the alcohol. “Seven-fucking-teen.”
“Mate, you’re screwed,” Lance drawled in a terrible British accent.
“Shut it, I do not sound like that,” Merlin said, cuffing Lance on the shoulder.
Lance laughed. “So what did he say?”
“He said he’d ask me out after the final,” Merlin groaned. “The man has no shame.”
“Man, huh?” Lance quirked an eyebrow. “Someone’s already thinking ahead.”
“Boy, whatever. You knew what I meant.”
“So the fact that you’re his teacher…”
“Didn’t give a damn. His words, not mine.”
“Shit.” Lance looked thoughtful. “Well, he is of age. Technically, I mean. So even though Gaius would fire you, you wouldn’t get arrested.”
“Lance!” Merlin looked up in horror. “I’m not going to do anything! He’s seventeen! That’s barely a year on my brother, for Christ’s sake!”
“Yes, how is the evilkind doing?” Lance asked. “I haven’t heard much recently from Hunith.”
“I’m going to murder Gwaine,” Merlin moaned, letting his head sink onto the table. “I’m going to murder Gwaine, throw his body in the Hudson, and then steal his thesis and use it to erase Mordred’s memory.”
Lance winced. “That bad?”
“He was making out with my brother, Lance! My little brother!” Merlin looked up, his eyes already bloodshot from the alcohol. “This is not an over-reaction, Mordred is off-limits to you lot and you all know that!”
“Yeah, but he hadn’t actually met Mordred before that, had he?” Lance asked.
“Doesn’t matter. Mordred’s not exactly a common name, you know? And he doesn’t look twenty-two, hell, he barely looks sixteen. He doesn’t even need to shave every day, for god’s sake.”
“Still, Gwaine’s not exactly known for good judgement when he’s sober, and that night he was probably drunk as a skunk, as you well know.”
“Still!” Merlin protested, pounding his empty shotglass on the tabletop for emphasis. “Sixteen!”
“Point,” Lance allowed, before putting his own glass on the table and leaning back.
“So…” Lance drawled, looking at Merlin. “I did have a reason for inviting you here, y’know.”
“Really?” Merlin looked up at Lance. “News? Have you knocked up Gwen yet?”
“Shut up, we’re just friends and you know it.”
“Yes,” Merlin nodded in an exaggerated fashion. “I regularly fuck all of my friends too. Sorry I’ve been so remiss with you, mate, but we could always start now, if you’d like?” Merlin grinned lecherously at Lance, waggling his eyebrows.
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“Sorry,” Merlin slurped up more vodka. “Seriously though, mate, it’s about time.”
“She’s still not over her ex,” Lance said resolutely. Gwen had apparently had a string of serious relationships before Lance, and she said she wanted to take a break from serial monogamy before giving dating another try.
“I don’t know why you put up with it, mate,” Merlin slurred, looking down at the bottle in front of him. “You’re not exactly going begging, all right? Maybe you should play the field a little, let her decide what she wants.”
“I love her,” Lance said in a tone that brokered no argument. “Anyway, that’s not why I asked you here. You remember Gwen’s boss? Uther Pendragon?”
“The man who owns half the city and might take out a hit on me if he finds out about his son’s intentions?” Merlin asked. “How could I forget him?”
“Well, apparently his daughter needs an internship to graduate from high school -“
“I didn’t know Rikers had a high school -“
“She was found not-guilty and you know it. Anyway, her new school requires an internship and she wants to be a scientist -“
“Lance, NO!” Merlin said, aghast. “The last time I had that girl in a classroom, she blew up half my flasks and proceeded to destroy the rest by inventing some sort of hither-unknown combination of household cleaning supplies that ate through glass! It was worse than aquaragia!”
“She’s grown a lot since then -“
“She drove a lizard to suicide!”
“That was an accident - “
“She PUT A LIVE ADDER IN HER BROTHER’S LOCKER!”
“That was never proven! Look, Gwen really needs this. She messed up on some serious paperwork the other day, and she thinks Uther is going to fire her. This is her last attempt to get into his good books.”
“No,” Merlin said firmly. “I don’t approve of Gwen and what she’s doing to you, and I certainly don’t want to be within ten feet of Uther’s she-demon offspring, let alone be responsible for her in a laboratory setting.”
Lance just looked at him. “Merlin…”
“No.”
…
“I said no, Lance.”
…
…
“Fine!” Merlin burst out, unable to take the wounded-puppy looks anymore. “Fine, I’ll do it. But the minute she so much as breaks a pipette, she’s gone, Lance, understand? Gone!”
“Oh, thank you, Merlin!” Lance beamed. “Gwen will be so happy.”
“I hate you,” Merlin grumbled, picking up the vodka bottle again.
“Love you too, man.”
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Two weeks later
2:00p.m., Wednesday
“Morgana?”
Merlin pushed open the door of the Ladies’. The stomach-clenching sounds of retching echoing out into the hall immediately stopped. “You might as well come out now. I could hear your Linda Blair impersonation all the way from the water fountain.”
A toilet flushed, and Morgana Le Fay slumped out of the farthest stall, her cheeks flushed and her dark hair nearly obscuring her face.
Merlin closed the bathroom door and leaned against it, arms crossed across his chest. “Feeling better?”
Morgana nodded, not looking at him. She took her time washing her hands, rubbing soap into the crevices of her nails and carefully patting each finger dry on a separate paper towel. When she was finally finished, Morgana folded her hands in front of her and fidgeted, still not looking at Merlin.
“You can wash your mouth out if you want to, you know,” Merlin said bluntly. “I know what you were doing in there, it’s not like you’re going to give yourself away.”
Morgana scowled but turned back to the sink, twisting her long hair and tucking it into her shirt collar. Merlin turned around to give her some semblance of privacy.
“So why’d you do it?” Merlin asked after Morgana had finished wiping her mouth. He dug a stick of sugar-free gum out from his pocket and offered it to her.
Morgana took the stick and read the label. She popped the piece in her mouth and took a few experimental chews.
“Wasn’t feeling well,” she mumbled around the gum. She still wouldn’t meet Merlin’s eyes.
“Yeah, right,” Merlin said skeptically. “And how many times a week do you ‘not feel well’?”
“It’s not - It’s not what - Just stop! Please, it’s none of your business anyway!” Morgana blinked, rubbing her fingers against her temples and plainly trying not to burst into tears. Merlin looked at her sadly.
“Morgana,” he said, not unkindly. “You’re seventeen. This is the healthiest body you’re ever going to have. Why are you trying to destroy yourself now, of all times?”
Morgana frowned and looked at her shoes.
“Is this about some imaginary imperfection you think you have? Do you have some ridiculous idea that you need to change the way you look, Morgana, because that’s dangerous and frankly quite silly.”
Morgana sniffled. Merlin internally face-palmed.
“Morgana?” Merlin asked a little more gently. “Would you like to tell me what’s bothering you?”
Morgana threw her hands up over her eyes and her shoulders began to shake. Merlin slowly let out his breath. How did he always end up in these situations?
Merlin took a handkerchief out of his pocket and handed it silently to Morgana. She took it and buried her face into the scrap of cloth, plainly sobbing her eyes out now.
Merlin silently debated the advisability of hugging one of his former students in the Ladies’ of an engineering building at Columbia University.
“Morgana, please, tell me what’s wrong.”
More sniffles followed this plea, and Morgana let out a single, watery sob.
Merlin, unable to bear the awkwardness anymore, reached out to put a comforting hand on Morgana’s shoulder.
The bathroom door suddenly flung open, and Guinevere rushed into the room.
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“Lance, I’m going to - Let me call you back, Lance. Yes. I’ll call you. Tomorrow, maybe? Just, look, Lance I have - Oh sod it.” Gwen hung up. “Morgana! Are you all right?”
Morgana gave Gwen an unreadable expression and slunk out from under Merlin’s hand. She turned and walked out of the bathroom.
“Morgana!” Gwen turned to Merlin instead. “What on earth - “
“It’s a long story,” Merlin sighed, running his hand through his hair. “Good to see you. Here to pick up Morgana?”
“Yes…” Gwen bit her lip. “I was late. She doesn’t like that.”
“I’m sure she’ll get over the tardiness.” Merlin said pointedly.
“Yes, well…” Gwen hesitated. “I’d better go after her then.”
“That might be a good idea,” Merlin agreed.
“What were you doing in here?” Gwen asked suspiciously.
“I’ll explain later, after you’ve tracked Morgana down,” Merlin sighed. “A coffee says that she hasn’t gone to the parking garage to wait by the car.”
Gwen wrinkled her nose. “Ooh, I’m not taking that bet. Any idea where she might be hiding?”
“Try the library. It’s on the fourth floor. Or Morgause’s office, if it’s unlocked. Third door on your right when you pass the stairs.”
“Cheers,” Gwen sighed. “I really owe you for this, Merlin. For everything.”
Merlin waved a hand. “Think nothing of it. It hasn’t been all bad for me either, she’s actually quite capable, Morgana. And Morgause took a fancy to her, so now I’m in the harpy’s good books. Or at least her lukewarm-books.”
Gwen smiled. “I’d better go look for Morgana, then. Wouldn’t do to lose your bosses’ favorite.”
“No,” Merlin agreed. “Bye for now. See you at The Rising Sun on Tuesday?”
“Wouldn’t miss it,” Gwen agreed before turning on a heel and walking out the door.
Merlin leaned his arms back on the counter and sighed again. What the devil….
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