Kink Me! #4
Kink Me! #4 Closed to new prompts Welcome to Kink Me! Merlin #4!
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The term passes quickly, and before long everyone is talking about Christmas. This year, Uther hands over the planning for the village New Year's party to Arthur. Apparently the village council have agreed, but he has his doubts about that.
'Make sure it's an affair with traditional family values; it reflects on us,' he growls at Arthur. He doesn't wait for an answer, hopping into his car to visit more potential sponsors for a new project he's barely talked about.
Arthur's not expecting much interest, but he asks around after church anyway to see if anyone wants to help him organise things. It's not exactly the highlight of anyone's social calendar, but for years, he's seen the way Uther's pushed the villagers around, so he doesn't see the harm in trying to come up with something that at least a few of them want.
Surprisingly, a lot of his friends do want to get involved. Unfortunately, Morgana is one of them, but between Gwaine and his tendency to mouth off over the slightest thing, and Elena's propensity for going off at a tangent at a moment's notice, she's fairly well suppressed.
'What do you think about promotions and things?' Arthur asks them, in late November. 'There were some leaflets promoting particular, erm, lifestyles, a few years back, and that attracted a bit of controversy.'
'What's this, Arthur?' Gwaine drawls, leaning back in his chair, running a lazy hand through his hair. 'Your father still running the show here?'
'No,' says Arthur and notes, in passing, the glare that Morgana gives him. 'He's got certain views, and I don't think anyone's going to be surprised by what they are. I just want to know what everyone thinks about using the event as to promote something that might not appeal to everyone. I suggest we vote on it, and that'll be that.'
'Until your father finds out,' says someone else.
Arthur looks up, missing who's just spoken. 'No,' he says again. 'The majority decision is the decision. It's final.'
There's a surprised and somewhat cynical silence, and Arthur doesn't know whether to feel pleased there's no further argument, or insulted that they have so little faith in him.
Fuck it, got to start somewhere, he thinks, and when there's a majority vote to keep the event neutral, he decides that on balance, he's pleased.
#
'So, exactly how mental did Uther go?' Merlin asks, breaking his chocolate reindeer in two and offering half to Arthur. It's the last week of term, it's snowing and they're freezing their arses off in the park, mainly because no one else is stupid enough to go there.
'It was pretty bad,' Arthur admits, though he misses out the part about the broken crockery, and the threats to ground him and take him out of school because clearly that's been corrupting him.
'Shit,' says Merlin. 'Has he calmed down yet?'
Arthur shrugs and brushes a snowflake out of Merlin's eyelashes. 'There's not much he can do about it,' he says, and Merlin rolls his eyes at his attempt to avoid the question. 'Luckily, Elena minuted everything and had it submitted to some committee or other the next day.' Arthur laughs. 'Apparently once there's a record of the decision he can't overrule it. Put it this way, though: he's unlikely to ask me to run it next year.'
'Maybe he'll give Morgana a shot,' says Merlin, one eyebrow raised; Arthur's shared his suspicions about her parentage with him some time ago.
'In that case, I don't think I'll even make the guest list,' Arthur says.
Merlin laughs, but then his expression turns serious. 'I'm proud of you for standing up to him,' he says, and he leans across to kiss him so softly he's barely there, until Arthur pulls him in, smiling into the kiss as he tastes the faintest hint of chocolate on Merlin's lips.
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Arthur isn't that bothered about going out on New Year's Eve. Everything's organised, after all, but at the same time, he doesn't want Uther to think that he's that easily intimidated, so he pulls his suit on and heads down to the village hall anyway.
It's surprisingly bearable this year and, having convinced an only slightly unwilling Percival that he should drive him home as well as Gwaine, he has a few glasses of wine and even attempts to dance a couple of times.
'What're you doing?' he says to Elena. It's only ten-thirty, and she's already tapping away industriously on her phone.
'Just sending New Year's messages,' she shouts over the music. 'Nothing'll get through come midnight.'
'Very organised,' Arthur grins. 'Who are you bothering now?'
'Merlin,' she says. 'Want to wish him a Happy New Year?'
Arthur hesitates briefly, but the wine overrules the caution he might otherwise have exercised, and he says: 'Yeah, why not?'
The rest of the evening passes without a hitch, and just as they are leaving, Elena grabs his arm and pulls him back into the hallway.
'Got a reply,' she says, but just as she's opening the message, Morgana appears from nowhere and grabs her phone.
'What's this?' she says, holding it out of reach. 'Do you have a secret admirer, Elena?'
'Fuck off,' Elena says, grabbing at the air. Arthur holds his breath and stands dead still while Morgana dances around for a painfully long time, flicking triumphantly through Elena's messages before handing it back.
'Well, that was a bit of an anti-climax,' she says, and saunters off airily in search of someone else to pester.
Arthur is, by this point, ashen-faced.
'I can handle her,' Elena says, winking at him. 'She thinks I haven't noticed that she keeps tabs on me, but be blind not to. Here's Merlin's reply, by the way. Don't worry,' she says, seeing Arthur's panicked expression, 'I know you're not supposed to be friends; he's been in my contacts as Gillian ever since the first time she sneaked my phone off me. She thinks I don't know about that either.'
Arthur takes the phone, wondering if Merlin knows what his number's stored as in Elena's phone. He still has no idea what else she's surmised about them but, that aside, it's kind of reassuring to know that at least one other person has picked up on how duplicitous Morgana can be.
'Stop looking as if the world's about to end,' she says, 'and take a look at what Gillian's got to say for himself.'
Arthur knows Merlin wouldn't have said anything that would put him in a difficult position, but he's a bit nervous as he opens the message up anyway. Then he smiles. It's fine. Really, it's more than fine.
Thanks E!! ; ) Can't think of a better start to the New Year, G xxx
Arthur's still grinning like an idiot when Elena taps him on the shoulder.
'I'll take you home,' she says, and inclines her head over to where Percival has thrown a kicking and swearing Gwaine over his shoulder, and is heading determinedly in the direction of the car park. 'I think someone's got their hands full.'
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Three weeks into the Spring term, Morgana is bedridden with a punishing dose of the 'flu. Theoretically, Arthur could have saved a molecule or two of compassion for her, but when he sees Merlin, all he's bothered about it breaking the good news.
'You've still got your classes,' says Merlin. 'If you want to stand on your own two feet after you graduate, you can't afford to fall behind. You shouldn't miss them.'
Fuck that, Arthur thinks, but they end up coming to a sort of compromise where Merlin doesn't drop too many of his shifts, and Arthur doesn't miss too many of his classes.
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Merlin's house share is a bitch to get to, and every bit as tiny and poorly maintained as he's described it. It's also perfect. The first time Arthur goes there, he gets very little time to look around, since he's pulled into Merlin's room seconds after he's stepped through the door.
It's the first time he's seen Merlin in his own environment. Before now it's been Gaius' house, the ill fated visit to his house, the church and the various public spaces they've quietly insinuated themselves into, but this room is crammed full with books and posters and little knick knacks that all mean something to Merlin but are a mystery to Arthur. He's fascinated by everything about this cramped, overcrowded space because it's completely Merlin.
It is, however, a complete and utter mess.
'I tidied up, you know,' Merlin says, seeing Arthur raise an eyebrow as he tries to kick a pair of jeans under the bed.
'Yeah,' Arthur says. 'I can see that.'
When Merlin swipes at him, it's ridiculously easy to grab him and wrestle him down to the bed which, whilst it's unmade, is fairly free of clutter.
'You've got a bloody cheek,' Merlin breathes as Arthur leans down to kiss him. 'You invite yourself over, and you're already complaining.'
'And so I should be,' Arthur says, slipping Merlin's t-shirt over his head and running his hands over the smooth skin of his stomach. 'You haven't even offered me a drink yet. It's very rude -'
He doesn't get any further than that as Merlin chooses that moment to pull him down and start to devour his mouth, neutralising any verbal ability he might still have. When he moves away this time, breathing hard, he sees Merlin looking up at him with a particularly smug expression on his face.
'You were saying?' he says.
Arthur smiles. 'Nothing important,' he murmurs.
#
Merlin has housemates, of course. A surly looking boy called Will, who gives Arthur the once over, and slopes off back to his room, and a girl who he never sees, called Gwen. Apparently she's always at her boyfriend's, but Merlin always speaks of her in glowing terms and Arthur takes his word for it.
'What's with him?' Arthur asks, when Will has pointedly made tea for Merlin only for the second day running. 'Does he want me to buy milk or something?'
'It's nothing,' says Merlin, flushing a little as he jumps up to leave the room. Minutes later there are raised voices from the kitchen, Arthur pretends not to notice.
After the weekend, he shows up with milk anyway.
'Er, thanks,' says Will, who doesn't quite meet his eyes when he opens the front door. 'Merlin's in the shower; he'll be out in a minute.'
Arthur follows Will into the kitchen and leans against the counter, not quite sure what to do with himself.
'Sorry we got off on the wrong foot,' Will says, as if the apology is being forced out of him. 'There was a misunderstanding. I thought you ... well, it doesn't matter.'
'It's forgotten,' Arthur says.
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Will leaves for his shift soon after that, and Arthur occupies himself drying up some cups and plates and takes a wild guess at which cupboards they go into.
He knows he should probably find it unnerving, how easily he's let his defences drop and slipped into this surreal version of domesticity, especially as it will end just as soon as Morgana drags herself out of bed. He lets himself drift into a familiar daydream, one he's definitely too embarrassed to share, about how he'd like things to be, at some, as yet undefined point in the future. It's a little like this, he thinks, placing the dishcloth back in its holder, except maybe with less damp and some kind of cleaning rota.
He gets so carried away that he doesn't notice that Merlin's out of the shower until he familiar hands slip around his waist, and he feels as well as hears a 'Hey, you're early,' whispered into the back of his neck.
'Just punctual,' he says, turning around to run a hand through Merlin's still damp hair, his breath catching as he runs his lips along the moisture still clinging to the curve of his cheekbone.
'So you are,' Merlin whispers, pulling him back in the direction of his room.
#
'You remember how I take my tea,' Merlin says sometime later.
'Shame it's gone cold,' says Arthur. He starts to push himself up from where he's lying with his head on Merlin's stomach. 'I'll get you another if you want.'
Merlin starts to make noises about how he's the guest and shouldn't be waiting on him, until Arthur has to silence him with a well aimed pillow to the head. 'I want to, idiot,' he says softly, and from the way Merlin's eyes widen and then soften, he knows he doesn't need to explain why.
#
Later that afternoon, as he's rushing to leave, Arthur remembers something he's been meaning to ask Merlin about.
'What's the deal with Will?' he says, pulling his sweatshirt back on. 'He keeps looking at me like I kicked your favourite puppy.'
'Erm. Nothing,' says Merlin.
Arthur raises his eyebrows.
'Really, nothing,' Merlin says. 'He's just very protective. He got the wrong end of the stick about you, that's all. He thinks I should be dating, and he's pestered me and pestered me about it until I had to tell him there was someone, but it wasn't straightforward. When he met you, he assumed you were the person I was talking about, and since he doesn't know the details, he immediately set about blaming you for the fact that I don't have, as he put it, a proper relationship. Which I do,' he says, stroking Arthur's face from cheekbone to chin with one long forefinger. 'Don't worry, I set him straight.'
'You set him straight? Shit. What did you tell him?'
Merlin looks stung by Arthur's reaction. 'Just to back off. I told him you were a friend, and that was it,' he says.
'Sorry,' says Arthur. 'I didn't mean it to sound like that.'
Merlin shrugs it off, but Arthur can see the tension radiate off his body. He wants to stay and talk it out, but a quick glance at his watch confirms that he'll only just make the tube if he runs. Torn, he slings his backpack over his shoulder and leaves.
#
The handful of days they have together pass quickly. It's perfect, albeit in its own temporary and bittersweet way, but Arthur can't remember when he's been happier. It's frustrating too. Although he's given himself a time limit on how long he's prepared to let Uther rule his life, this unexpected time has simply increased his desperation to get away.
While Merlin dozes one afternoon, with nothing but a thin sheet covering his legs, he considers his options. He knows without a shadow of a doubt that if he just asked, Merlin would let him stay. He also knows that the only reason he hasn't said as much is because he won't push Arthur into something before he's ready. Arthur sighs, and settles down alongside Merlin, wrapping an arm around his waist. He's caught between wanting all of this, right now, and waiting, knowing that somewhere down the line, things can really change. He just wishes it could happen sooner; he's pretty sure that if it wasn't for the family he'd been born into, it would have happened already.
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The next morning, having received his father's most recent report that Morgana's health is much improved, Arthur knows it's the last day they'll have together like this. He's been dreading it, and it passes far too quickly.
He fidgets and tries not to look at his watch. It will only confirm to him what he already knows: there's never enough time.
'You need to go soon, don't you?' Merlin says from beneath the quilt.
Arthur nods. 'If I'm not on the train he'll start to wonder, and the next time well ... there might not be a next time.'
'Okay,' Merlin says, sitting up and pulling him close. 'You'd better go. Back to the usual next week, I suppose.'
And then, suddenly, it's too much. Arthur presses the heels of his hands into his eyes and stays like that, feeling the minutes pass by. When, eventually, he looks up, his eyes are wet.
'Sometimes I wonder if we'd have been better off if we'd never met,' he says, hating what he says because it's the truth, and about as far away from the truth as he can get. 'I love seeing you, but when I do, I can't stop thinking that it's followed by not seeing you. We get hours, if we're lucky. Hours, Merlin. And then we say goodbye, and then it starts all over again; I have to start over again.' When Arthur speaks again, his voice is almost a whisper: 'I don't know how many times I can do this.'
'Don't say that,' Merlin says, and nudges his hand across to Arthur, so their fingertips are just touching. He clears his throat. 'You're not the only one who finds it hard,' he says. 'I get on with things when you're not there because, well, I have to. Usually I convince myself that someday maybe ... it'll be alright ... but when you go, that all seems so far away again.' Merlin looks over at him with a lop-sided smile which Arthur tries and fails to return. 'Don't look so sad,' he says. 'It's not like I'm mooning around here every day. What I'm trying to say, I suppose, is that you can't lose hope. Though when you're not here the most excitement I get is Will's attempts to set me up on more blind dates.'
'You don't go do you?' Arthur says, feeling sick to his stomach, not sure if he even has the right to feel jealous.
'Of course not,' Merlin says, frowning in mock affront. 'If I did, Will might stop giving me such a hard time.'
It's one of the few times Merlin has spoken - really spoken - about how this is for him. Arthur's suspected, of course, but it's easy to convince himself that Merlin can walk away and get on with his life any time he likes. He wonders how much else Merlin has held back to spare his feelings, and he feels bad for Merlin and embarrassed that he comes with so many complications. For a second he feels helpless in the face of the widening gulf between them.
'I'm sorry,' Arthur says, and he doesn't know if he's apologising for making Merlin's life difficult or because he's not sure he should be part of it. 'I'm holding you back,' he says. 'What if I can't ever give you what you want? I'd say what you deserve,' he laughs, shortly, 'but you deserve far more than that.'
Merlin turns around so he's facing Arthur, their faces just inches apart. He looks frustrated and sad, but that defiant look, the one he wore when he decided to take a year out, is back.
'I said I'd give you time. I said I'd wait,' says Merlin, taking Arthur's hand and pressing their fingers together gently, 'and I will fucking wait for you. It doesn't have to be like this,' he continues gently, after a few aching moments of just letting their hands rest side by side in still, continuous contact. 'No one would blame you. Fuck, you don't even believe in any of it; it's all just to keep Uther happy.'
Arthur sighs. He knows Merlin makes sense; he's had the same argument with himself thousands of times, but even though it's much diminished, there's still a stupid lingering part of him that needs Uther's love and approval.
'I know,' he says, feeling his heart shred apart as he says it. 'But I'm all he has.'
He looks up at Merlin, fully expecting his face to have frozen over. Instead Merlin takes his hand and presses it carefully to his lips. 'Just remember,' he says, 'he's not all you have.'
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Warning for violence (and probable ignorance of police procedures).
---
A couple of weeks later, Arthur and Morgana Central London after their classes are finished for the day. Uther's having one of his sponsor events at one of the big hotels; it's high profile, apparently, and he wants some family there.
They leave the campus bickering because Arthur insists that it'll take longer to get there on the tube than on foot. After a mile or so, they take a wrong turn into an alleyway, and just as they're about to turn back, they catch sight of a scuffle at the end and hear a man cry out in pain.
'Come on Arthur,' Morgana says, pulling at his shoulder, 'don't mind about him, we'll be late.'
Arthur shakes his head. 'You stay here. Call the police and get an ambulance; I'm going to see what's going on.'
He walks in cautiously, the shadows too dark even to tell how many people there are. He hears another groan, louder this time, and breaks into run.
At the end of the alley he sees four men. Three surround another, who is lying motionless on the ground as they kick and punch him. It looks like a mugging, though from what their victim is shouting out, he's already given them everything he has, but they don't look as if they're stopping any time soon.
Arthur takes a deep breath. 'I think that's enough, guys,' he says.
The biggest one turns and gives him a cold, belligerent stare. 'Is that right?' he says, 'because we don't think he's had nearly enough.'
Fuck, Arthur thinks. So far, the extent of his career in breaking up fights has been calming things down at school at lunchtimes and the handful of occasions when Gwaine's got out of hand and Percival hasn't been there to pull him out of any trouble.
'So,' Arthur says, not dropping eye contact with the biggest of them, 'whilst it seems we have a difference of opinion here, you should probably know that the police are already on their way. I reckon I could keep two of you - maybe the whole lot of you - busy until they arrive. Do you really think it's worth the effort?'
His words have some effect on the two smaller men who run off after a few well aimed kicks to their victim's ribs. The fight with the remaining man doesn't last long. Although he's big, and he manages to land several punches, Arthur realises when he's got the man pinned to the ground, his arm twisted behind his back, brute force can only get you so far without any skill to back it up.
When he's sure the man is immobile, Arthur catches a glimpse of Morgana. She's standing at the end of the alleyway looking on with calm disinterest.
'Hey,' Arthur says to the victim. 'Police'll be here in a minute,' says Arthur. 'Ambulance too, I hope.'
The man pulls himself to an awkward sitting position, groaning at the effort. 'Cheers, mate,' he says.
The police arrive first, and Arthur goes over to the man to check him over for broken ribs. He's in his late twenties and tall, though slightly built. Arthur has to use his sweatshirt to mop up the worst of the bleeding, but as far as he can tell, he doesn't appear to be seriously injured.
'Here,' Arthur says, spotting something lying on the ground, 'they left your wallet.'
'Thanks,' the man says and then mutters, 'I don't think that was what they were after.'
Arthur doesn't have much time to ponder that, what with Morgana now almost hysterical that not only they are going to be late for Uther's sponsors, but also that Arthur's a mess, and he's got a huge black eye coming up.
Finally, the paramedics arrive, and asthey tend to the man, Arthur gives a statement to the police. They need to take the man to hospital for some scans, but they insist on checking Arthur over too. When they're done, he notices Morgana and one of the police officers speaking quietly, Morgana's eyes darting towards him as they talk.
'They've said they'll give us a lift to the hotel, what with you being such a big brave boy,' Morgana says, striding over, a smirk tugging at her lips.
She seems delighted that they no longer have a problem getting to the venue, but Arthur gets the impression from the smug set of her mouth and the bright, predatory look in her eyes, that there's something she's not telling him.
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I love the little retreat he and Merlin have had. I wasn't sure if they were even able to be sexually active in their Wednesday park days, and loved the way Merlin and Arthur were so gentle and casual in their intimacy during their time in Merlin's flat. That was lovingly and gently handled, and was so very tender. They've grown up a lot, I think. Arthur is closer to being ready to be his own man.
Please know, author, that our hearts are deeply invested in this amazing story.
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Usually I am not a fan of modern era Arthur/Merlin fic, but this was recommended to me by a friend and it is so totally heartbreaking and beautifully written.
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As the police car slips easily through the traffic, Arthur catches sight of himself in the rear view mirror; he presses his hand to the side of his face and winces as it connects with bruised, swollen flesh. He could have come off worse, he supposes, but all the same, he doesn't look great, and he shudders to think of what Uther's going to make of it all.
Out of the corner of his eye he sees Morgana tapping away on her phone. He wants to tell her that Uther won't take calls so close to the start of such an important event, but before he can say a word she slams the phone down onto her knees in frustration. A few seconds later, she picks it up and demands to be put through to Uther's secretary.
'What was that about?' he asks, when the hushed call ends.
'Just letting Uther know everything's alright,' Morgana says, and gives the police woman the benefit of her wide, dazzling smile. 'They'll wait for us; it'll only delay things for a few minutes.'
Arthur is less confident, knowing very well how badly Uther tolerates any sort of delay. 'I can't show up like this,' he says, tugging uncomfortably at his torn, bloodied clothes.
Morgana makes an airy hand gesture to no one in particular. 'Arthur, darling,' she says, 'you underestimate the power of a good story. Uther will love showing you off once he learns how heroic you've been.' Then she turns and looks out of the window, and the sense that she's holding something back returns.
'You'll be able to clean up when we get there,' Morgana says, a few minutes later. 'It's a hotel. They must have a fresh set of clothes somewhere. We can't do anything about your face, but ...'
'It's not so bad,' says the policewoman, 'it'll fade in no time. We know those guys, and you were lucky, believe me. Thanks to you, the one we arrested might be up for attempted murder.'
'See?' Morgana says, beaming relentlessly. 'As soon as the officer here explains what happened, and how lucky it was that you were there, everything will be fine.'
Now things have started to sink in, Arthur shudders at the thought that an attack like this must be an everyday occurrence. Rationally, he's always known, but coming face-to-face with it is different. He feels raw and unsettled. Needing something familiar to ground him, he slips his hand into his trouser pocket and runs his fingers over what's there. His fingers connect with his phone, a handful of change and notes, and, finally, what he's looking for: a scrap of paper that's been folded and unfolded and touched so many times that it's almost worn to pieces. As the car continues on its unstoppable course towards the hotel and Uther, Arthur wishes he was anywhere else but here.
#
To his relief, the hotel is large enough to have its own underground parking. He, Morgana and the officer get out of the car and head up in the lift. Even trailing behind the other two, Arthur feels conspicuous to the point that he's almost over sensitised with it. He keeps his eyes on the polished marble floor of the lobby and the harsh reflected light that glares back at him, his entire field of experience narrowed down to the marble, and light, and the sharp clicking of Morgana's heels, reflecting, red, against the floor. He follows them like a trail.
The shoes stop, and so does Arthur. Somewhere around him he hears sharp intakes of breath. He can't blame them; showing up in the state he's in, and with a police escort, is bound to raise some eyebrows. Slowly, he looks up, and his eyes collide with Uther's.
'What the hell is going on?' his father says, his voice a cold, angry hiss.
Morgana, unusually, says nothing, and waits for the policewoman to step forward.
'Please don't be alarmed, sir,' she says. 'Your son hasn't come to any harm; just a few cuts and bruises. He -'
'I can see that,' Uther snaps, his eyes cutting into Arthur. 'What concerns me is why he thought to get himself into this state today. Our sponsors have already started to arrive.'
'Sir, please,' the officer says. 'If I can have a moment to explain.'
'Very well,' Uther says, 'but it had better be quick.' He ushers her to one side and gestures impatiently for Arthur and Morgana to join them.
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'He may look a bit the worse for wear,' says the policewoman, 'but I can assure you if it were not for his actions then the victim of the attack would be in a far more serious condition. He acted very bravely today; you should be proud of him, sir.'
A raised eyebrow from Uther is enough to demonstrate that she has overstepped the mark and, cowed, the officer lowers her eyes and waits with the others, for him to respond.
'So,' Uther says, resting a hand on Arthur's shoulder, 'finally taking on some social responsibility, son? I suppose that is something we could celebrate. It might even make the papers,' he muses thoughtfully.
'Oh, I should think so,' Morgana smirks.
Uther looks past Morgana to the officer, who nods. 'Almost definitely. Your son managed to head off a particularly brutal homophobic attack today,' she says.
'A what?' Uther says, going completely still.
Fuck, Arthur thinks, as the man's odd reaction when he returned his wallet to him - I don't think that was what they were after - starts to make a little more sense now.
'The attackers were well known to us,' the officer is saying, 'but they've always evaded arrest before. It seems they make it their business to target those whose, um, lifestyles,' she pauses, wrongfooted by Uther's utter lack of response, 'they disagree with. You son did a very selfless thing today. I'm sure many will want to thank him.'
Arthur wants to sink into the ground and die as the officer continues to commend him for his actions. He still can't bring himself to look at Uther, but he hopes that his own silence will somehow bring things to a close. He has no such luck; if anything, his reticence is spurring Morgana on to ask for more details which, in turn, attracts attention from Uther's sponsors and associates, who are gathering in small groups in the lobby, ready to be seated.
A quick glance in Uther's direction, as he dismisses the officer, confirms Arthur's fears: his father is absolutely livid. But now this new detail about the attack has started to sink in, he finds that something else is weighing far more heavily on his mind and his breath catches in his throat as he imagines if Merlin had been their victim instead, and no one had stopped to help ...
The thought of Merlin ambling into that situation, simply in the wrong place at the wrong time, chills Arthur's blood and his guts twist with some raw, undefinable emotion that he supposes could be fear, or panic, or simply that he's trapped in a situation that feels very, very wrong.
He can feel his heart thudding in his chest at the idea that harm might just as easily have come to Merlin, and he wouldn't have been in a position to anything about it. It takes so much of his concentration not to leave the lobby and find a phone and call, just to check that he's alright, that he doesn't realise that Uther's talking to him until he feels a hand on his shoulder, shaking him roughly.
'What is wrong with you today, Arthur?' Uther says, in a furious whisper. 'First you risk your life to rescue some worthless deviant, and get a good man arrested into the bargain; now you're off with the fairies. Are you sure you didn't get more than a bump on the head?'
'My head's fine,' Arthur says, even though, really, his world feels like it's starting to spin out of control. 'And I wasn't aware I did anything wrong.'
Uther steps forward, crowding him. 'The fuck you didn't,' he says, his raised voice attracting the interest of a few more people in the lobby, some of whom are discreetly filming the exchange on their phones. 'Can you remember who we're here to meet today? People who share the same views as us; people we rely on for sponsorship. We stand for moral values, Arthur. Family values. If any of our people catch wind that your antics have been enabling the sort of morally bankrupt behaviour we stand against. Well,' Uther says, his index finger stabbing into Arthur's chest, 'quite frankly, you'd have been more of a hero if you'd left him there for those men to deal with. At least then he would have got what was coming to him.'
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Arthur's jaw tightens as he suppresses a gasp of disbelief, which is quickly overtaken by the anger that's rising in his chest. His father's views are no surprise, but he's always held back a little bit of hope that, when it came to it - if he chose the right words, and did the right things - one day Uther might come around. He's had this idea that after he's finished university and proved he could make it on his own, done things with his life to make Uther proud of him, then he might, eventually, accept him purely on his merits. He'd be angry at first. Furious, probably, but up until now, Arthur hasn't let himself believe that his father was the sort of person who would let his hate for one part of him cancel out everything else. When the twin realisations hit: that Uther's never going to change, and that he's been deluding himself for too long, it feels a little like grief.
'Father,' he says, choosing his words carefully, 'that man might have died.'
'Well, it's a shame you didn't get there a few minutes later, then,' Uther snarls back at him. 'It would have saved us all a lot of bother. There are important people waiting for us, Arthur. Find a room and get yourself cleaned up; my secretary will find you a fresh set of clothes.'
Arthur hesitates for a second, his mind still taunting him with images of Merlin being patched up by the paramedics, of Merlin being driven off to hospital, of how - if that had really happened - he's so cut off from the life he wants to lead, that he would only have found out about it by chance. I can't go on like this,, he thinks, and with that thought, he realises that this, right now, is the turning point, the place that Merlin's given him time and space to find, and now, he's finally reached it.
'Well?' Uther barks, 'what are you waiting for?'
After years of taking orders from his father without question, Arthur has already started to turn before he realises what he's doing. This time, though, he stops.
'There's just one more thing,' he says.
'What?' says Uther, red-faced with exasperation.
'What if it had been me, lying there?' Arthur says, his voice growing bleak. 'What if they had been kicking the crap out of me, and you'd walked by? Would you have left me to bleed to death?'
'Don't be ridiculous Arthur,' Uther says, forcing a laugh out for the benefit of his associates. 'You're not one of them. You're talking about something that would never happen.'
'Say that it did,' Arthur presses. 'Humour me.' He can hear his voice; he sounds calm, confident, even, a contrast to how his heart sinks lower as every word forces the situation a little further. 'Just so we're clear, say that the man who was attacked because he was gay was me, your son, what would you do?'
There's another forced laugh, but the expression on Uther's face, as they start to circle one another, has turned murderous. 'Fine,' he says, after a long moment of consideration. 'In this hypothetical situation, I would have stood back and watched you get what you deserved.'
There's a stunned silence from the little crowd that's gathered around them. Arthur's stunned too, for as much as he's known this was coming, he hasn't quite managed to steel himself finally from hearing, from his father's own lips, that he would rather see him dead than love him for who he is. Then there's a moment that seems to stretch out forever, where everything goes completely still, and he can't quite form the words he wants to say. When he does manage to get them out, he's surprised he needs so few to cut the ties that have been there all his life.
'It's not a hypothetical situation, father,' he says, peripherally aware of a small gasp from a few of the people around them, 'but I do appreciate your honesty. I think I'm done here now.'
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Arthur makes it to the far side of the lobby before he finds his path blocked by Uther.
'And where do you think you're going?' he says.
Arthur shrugs. He has no idea, other than if he stays here a moment longer he'll start to shout, start to vent his anger at Uther, tell him that the counselling was worthless, that he's sick of lying and sick of being lied to. But, still mindful that Uther is surrounded by people he wants to impress, he simply tries to push past.
It doesn't work, and before he knows what's going on, he finds himself pushed back against the lobby wall, his head connecting painfully with smooth, polished stone. 'You're going nowhere until I get some answers,' Uther roars.
Disorientated momentarily, Arthur looks past him at the onlookers; some horrified, some concerned, some merely interested. Out of the corner of his eye he sees Morgana, and the excited, expectant expression on her face, her eyes darting between him and Uther as she watches their relationship fall apart.
For a second, Arthur's convinced that Uther's going to punch him, but instead he steps back, a disgusted expression on his face.
'It's that bloody boy isn't it?' Uther shouts, forgetting, in his fury, that he has an audience. 'I told him to stay away from you.'
'Yes,' Arthur says, not entirely sure why he's so calm. 'It's that boy, and it probably always will be that boy. And I'm sorry you're not going to get the son you wanted, but I can't lie to you anymore.'
'And you think the boy's going to have any interest in you at all, once he learns you've walked away from your family?' Uther sneers. 'You're a bigger idiot than I thought, Arthur, if you believe you have anything else more to offer than your name. You're nothing without it. Nothing. And once that's gone, you won't see that boy for dust.'
'I'm willing to take my chances,' Arthur says. He looks over at Morgana, who tries, unsuccessfully to wipe the ecstatic look from her face.
'Arthur,' she says, all fake concern.
'Save it, Morgana,' Arthur says, 'and good luck with all of this; you're welcome to it.'
He pulls his phone out of his pocket and hands it to Uther, knowing as he does so that this will sever the last point of contact between them. Stony faced with rage, Uther takes it without a word.
As he walks through the revolving doors of the hotel, he catches sight of Morgana being shoved away by Uther as she moves to console him. He's vaguely aware that Uther's still shouting at him, asking him where he thinks he's going to go, where he's going to live, how he's going to eat. The short answer is that he doesn't know, but right now he's too hyped up to care.
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After he's walked most of the adrenaline off, he slumps down onto a bench and realises that he does, really, have to figure out his next move. Going through his pockets, he finds that he has maybe thirty pounds in notes and some change in his pocket, but that's it, and a slow panic sets in. He refuses to give into it, and forces himself to go through his options instead. He supposes the university might help, if he explains what's happened; possibly Elena would be prepared to shout down Godwyn's objections if he asked her very nicely; he's even willing to bet that Gwaine or Percival would give him somewhere to stay for a few nights, even though he hasn't seen either of them at church for months now. It's easier to think about it like that, and the realisation that he's got more friends than he thought he had calms him enough to believe that he can do this, after all.
But out of everyone he could go to, the one person who he does call, standing nervously in a grimy phonebox, loose change rattling in his trembling hands, is Merlin.
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