Fanfiction: Rules for Roommates, modern au, WIP (2/?)
Title: Rules for Roommates - 2/?
Fandom: Merlin (Merlin/Arthur)
Rating: R now but will end up NC-17
Word count: 3,620 this part (7k so far)
Summary: Modern AU. Arthur works in publishing and is ashamed to tell anyone he's secretly editing erotica, and being bullied by one of his authors - the arrogant 'Lake Anders'. He's also just taken in a new roommate, the adorable Merlin Emrys, who is definitely Not His Type. Or is he?
Notes: The term 'stet' is a proofreading term which means 'let it stand'. If an editor changes something and the author disagrees they will write 'stet' and their reasoning. 'Stet wars' can get quite nasty.
Previous chapters: CHAPTER ONE
When Arthur woke up the next morning it was to the irresistible smell of frying bacon. For a moment he was confused. Morgana had been vegan for the past year, and macrobiotic, and she most definitely definitely did not fry stuff in oil.
He padded downstairs in his boxers to make a cuppa, noticing with a smile that the heating was on. He'd been rowing with Morgana for months over the heating. She said that extreme cold was good for you so would sneak down each night to switch it off, waging silent warfare over the boiler to the degree that he had at one point considered sleeping in a thermal onesie. But no, he might not be getting laid, but that was no excuse to really let his standards slip that much.
'Arthur!' Merlin was wearing striped pyjamas - which did not help with the whole 'looking 17' thing he had going on - and was frying bacon and eggs. 'I made tea!' he put down a steaming tea-pot in front of Arthur.
Arthur slumped down in a kitchen chair, 'Did I dream you?' he asked.
'Um, no, why?'
'Morgana doesn't let me fry food because of the smell and no one's made me a cup of tea since... well, since Gwen.'
'Hey,' Merlin sympathised, 'you've now got the world's best roommate so you can look forward to a fry-up at least once a week and regular tea.'
'God you're nice,' Arthur said, picking up a mug and pouring it full of tea, before liberally adding milk and sugar. He drank deeply and sighed, 'Ah, Tetley.'
Merlin laughed, 'It's actually P.G. Tips.'
Arthur shrugged, 'I just like the advert.'
Merlin plonked down a plate in front of Arthur - buttery toast, baked beans, bacon, a fried egg and a big old dollop of H.P. sauce.
'Are you sure I didn't dream you?' Arthur asked as he bit into it.
Merlin looked shy, 'Do you like it?'
'S'fucking brilliant.' Egg squirted on his chin and he wiped it off. 'God your boyfriend's a dick.'
'Oi,' Merlin said, but he blushed and looked quite pleased as he sat down to tuck into his plate too.
'God, where do you put it Merlin?' Arthur asked, gobsmacked as Merlin practically inhaled the plate. I've never seen eating like that... and my mate Leon is banned from our local 'all-you-can-eat' Chinese lunch deal.'
Merlin snorted, 'Well, I'm naturally very greedy, of course,' he said, 'and I guess part of me hopes if I eat enough I'll fill out my body.' He peeled back his pyjama shirt to reveal a knobbly wrist and winced, then roughed his hair up again which he seemed to do when he was nervous.
Again, Arthur bit down the word 'adorable' knowing one, that it was inappropriate to call your tenant such a thing, and also knowing that it would only reinforce Merlin's belief that he was scrawny and childlike and not very sexy.
'My nickname at school was 'skeletor',' he sighed, moodily.
Arthur snorted and then turned it into a cough. He was practiced at this, having seen Leon do it many, many times. 'My nickname at school was 'King Arthur'.'
'Oh wow,' Merlin said, deadpan, through a mouthful of bacon. 'That must have been so tough for you.'
'Fine,' Arthur looked away, 'it was actually 'WanKing Arthur'. My fucking room-mate told everyone in sixth form he'd caught me giving myself a hand-shandy in the school urinals.'
Merlin burst out laughing.
'It's not funny,' Arthur insisted. 'The sick fuck told everyone - as if I'd wank in the urinals! I'm not some exhibitionist.'
'Ha, well, you've made me feel better,' Merlin said, dipping his toast in H.P. sauce with abandon. 'I might have been skinny, but I wasn't known for being some creepy sex-pervert with a penchant for the smell of urine.'
Arthur looked disgusted. 'Gross. God, it was a surprise I managed to find a girlfriend after those rumours went round.'
Merlin sniggered. 'You in tonight?'
'Nah, I've got a blind-date. Leon's set me up with one of his girlfriend's friends.' He wrinkled his nose. 'I fucking hate blind-dates. I've never had a good one.'
'I've never been on a blind-date. My sexual experience before my boyfriend was confined to blowjobs in some of Vauxhall's less salubrious night-spots. I only came out when I met him. Guess that's one thing to thank him for.'
'Even if he is a dick in all other respects,' Arthur said, grumpily, finishing his tea. 'If I had someone who treated me nicely and made me breakfast and tea I'd never look elsewhere.'
Merlin snorted, 'That's very nice of you - but despite my many shared qualities with a 50s housewife, there is the little problem of me not being his type. I mean, all his other boyfriends looked like... well, like you,' he gestured at Arthur's torso.
'What?' he asked, self-conscious.
'You know... Muscular. Big. Fit.' His gaze on Arthur's chest made him cross his arms defensively until Merlin looked away. 'And he said he liked me because of my 'personality' and well, I guess that's not enough is it? You have to have attraction too.'
'You should dump him,' Arthur said. 'Honestly, mate, if someone makes you feel this shit about yourself you should get rid of him.'
'You don't understand...' Merlin bit his lip, busied himself clearing the table. 'Someone who looks like you wouldn't. I'm a niche interest, and before him, I'd had no interest. And he's funny, and gorgeous, and smart and it's not that easy.'
'Look, I'm not good at heart to hearts,' Arthur said awkwardly. 'And I barely know you. But from what I do know you're a good bloke and you can do better. It's as easy as that.' He shrugged. 'Thanks for breakfast - I owe you one. I'll see you later, yeah, have a good day writing your text-books?'
'Thanks,' Merlin smiled, 'have a good day. Oh, shit, before I forget, let me give you my number, in case I get locked out or something.'
'Sure,' Arthur let him type his in to Arthur's phone, then called him. 'Um, how likely is it you will lock yourself out?'
'Pretty likely,' Merlin grinned, 'it's why I've developed such brilliant breakfast making skills. It eases the annoyance.'
***
In publishing there's a term for authors who you really, really wish you didn't have to work on. They're 'heart sinkers', as in, if you see their number, or their email, your heart sinks. In publishing, if you inherit someone else's authors, there's very little you can do about a heart sinker other than grit your teeth, push your shoulders back and try to make yourself read their emails without hitting 'delete'.
Arthur had had a very pleasant morning up until 11am. He'd arrived on time, pleasantly full of greasy food, he'd been congratulated in the publicity meeting for his ideas for their campaign relaunching backlist gems, and he'd blitzed a load of cover copy that his predecessor had 'kindly' left him.
Then, at 11:04 to be precise, his day was ruined. His outlook 'new mail' icon popped up in the right-hand of his screen: 'From: lake.anders@gmail.com Subject line: Rules for Roommates.'
His heart sank.
Big time.
He delayed the inevitable by going to the kitchen, pouring out all the water in the kettle, filling it to the brim, and waiting as it took ages to boil. Then he made himself a glass of water as well as a cup of tea, threw out all the off milk from the fridge, before finally, slowly making his way back to his desk.
He opened outlook and gingerly clicked on the email:
'Dear Arthur,
I am awaiting a response to several queries:
1. When can I expect to see covers for 'Hot Wet Ecstasy' and 'The Cabin-Boy's Lust'?
2. My backlist stretches to some 57 titles, will any of these be reprinted as part of your 'backlist gems' publishing programme?
3. I responded to your editorial notes on 'Boarding-School Orgy' on Friday 17th and have yet to receive a response. Please confirm you received them.
4. I am due the delivery advance on the above title (note my contracts state 'delivery of manuscript' not 'acceptance of text') - please confirm when I will receive the BACS transfer for this.
5. I have not yet received royalties due from the last accounting period. There was a delay last year and I was promised this would not happen again. Please discuss with your accounts team and revert as soon as possible.
6. I have come up with a new title to pitch: Rules for Roommates. I have attached a one-page synopsis outlining the plot. Please let me know if this is suitable.
I would appreciate your earliest response in this matter.
Best,
Lake Anders'
Arthur sat back, winded - every point on this list would take between 4 hours and 4 weeks to sort out and he knew if he didn't go back to Lake within the day, he'd get a series of increasingly obnoxious emails each day he delayed.
He flagged the email as 'important' in his inbox and then decided to do the easiest part, read the treatment for 'Rules for Roommates'.
Arthur pitied any roommate of Mr Lake Anders that was for sure. Arthur couldn't say the name in a normal voice, only in an obnoxiously nasal one. I mean, who was fucking called Lake Anders? His real name was probably something dull like Tom Smith, or, and Arthur liked this one better, he had a totally unfortunate name like 'Fred West' or 'Harold Shipman'.
Ha.
Arthur skimmed the short precis: two men move in together. One is gay, one is very straight, works out at the gym all the time, plays rugby, same old same old. The gay one gradually seduces the straight one and there is a misunderstanding (obviously) before the 'straight' one ended up being shagged in very inventive ways around the house. For Lake, it was actually quite sweet. As far as Arthur could see no household implements had been used in inventive ways, and no pizza delivery boys or window-cleaners had joined in. Hmm.
He then read the longer synopsis which explained the title. The straight housemate, 'James', had come up with a list of rules both him and 'Harry' had to follow. These started off innocently about when they could bring people home, doing washing-up etc etc, but as Harry seduced James they become dirtier. James wouldn't admit to his desires so they started that they could watch each other masturbate but not touch, but over time he broke down and the rules dictated next that they could use hands, then mouths... then the inevitable happened. Arthur found himself oddly turned on by the narrative. Normally he was never turned on by what he read at work. A lot of the books frightened him, for myriad reasons, but this was. Well. Quite hot actually.
He decided to bite the bullet and email back Lake right away.
'Dear Lake,
Thank you for your note. I will respond to your other queries shortly. I have just read 'Rules for Roommates' and must congratulate you - it is a very neat plot device, nicely drawn characters and an obvious appeal for the market.
Kind regards,
Arthur'
He hit send and decided to go through the editorial notes to 'Boarding School Orgy'.
It was littered with 'stets' from Lake.
'This is an obvious joking reference to Gossip Girl and must be left in.'
'I am disgusted that you want to remove this scene with the shower-rail from what I can only assume is homophobia.'
'This is a literary reference to Ovid's Metamorphoses.'
Stet, stet, stet. In the end Arthur's head swam with it and he minimised the window, deciding to get started on a some cover briefs for a Regency Romance series he was working on.
Then an email pinged in. Ugh, Lake, again.
'Hi Arthur,
Thank you for your kind words. I think this idea really has legs and the characters could perhaps become series characters. I am glad that you enjoyed the synopsis - I had fun writing it!
All best,
Lake'
Arthur blinked. Had he read that right? Lake had been nice to him? Well, that was interesting. With renewed vigor he attacked the cover brief. 'Need a big, muscular model with shirt ripped open to the waist, cradling a woman in negligee. She needs to be blonde and be clinging entreatingly up to him. This is not a cover to be brave with, needs to sit firmly in market. Think creamy bosoms and quivering thighs.'
***
7pm and Arthur was in the crappy bar his blind-date, Vivian, had picked. It was in Leicester Square for one, aka the most touristy of tourist traps that ever touristed, and it was full of wanker bankers for two. Arthur could pass as a wanker banker - and, truth be told, had used to behave like one - but his recent step-down job-wise had given him what Leon had termed 'some much needed humility.'
'You must be Arthur?' she was blonde, and pretty, Arthur saw with relief. Nicely dressed, if a bit smart, expensive earrings and watch.
'Yes, pleasure to meet you,' he got up and kissed both her cheeks, pulling her seat out for her. 'What can I get you to drink?'
'Glass of Pol Roger Cuvee?'
Arthur winced inwardly. Fucking cheek of asking for that as a drink. And he bet that she would not offer to get the next round. 'Sure,' he said.
'Glass of cava, mate,' he said at the bar, knowing he couldn't afford to spend £30 on one glass of champagne. 'And I'll have a lime and soda water.'
The date went from bad to worse. She didn't notice the cheap booze he'd substituted her order with which made him think less of her (it was obviously the name she liked rather than the taste) and she kept up a constant stream of stories about skiing, and her members' club, and all the launches she went to with the luxury PR company she worked for.
An hour in and Arthur was certain she didn't know where he lived, what he did, or what any of his interests were. She probably barely knew his name, and it didn't matter how much she flicked her hair or pouted: he just couldn't bring himself to find her interesting.
'Oh god, sorry,' he yelped, as his phone buzzed aggressively in his pocket. He pulled it out: Merlin.
'I'm so sorry but I've locked myself out. And it's pouring with rain. And I'm cold.'
'Fuck,' he muttered, whilst smiling secretly. 'I'll be there in twenty minutes.'
'I'm so sorry Vivian but I've got to go. I've just sub-let a room in my flat to someone and he's locked himself out and there's no spare key. This was lovely, thanks.' He air-kissed her again and then with a rueful wave left. She didn't look particularly bothered.
***
'You are an absolute beauty,' he grabbed Merlin and planted a smacker on his lips. Merlin looked shocked.
'What did I-?'
'Date from hell. I was dying inside, and then you call and give me the perfect excuse. You are my new favourite person.'
He let a wet, shivering, Merlin in. 'I'll have to get a spare key cut if you do this regularly.'
'Might be an idea, fuck I'm cold,' Merlin bolted upstairs, re-emerging minutes later in his pyjamas with a towel round his shoulders and his hair sticking up at all angles. All he needed was a teddy-bear to complete the picture. Arthur wanted to pinch his cheeks but instead handed him a steaming cup of tea.
'Want to order chinese?' he asked.
'Nah, I like cooking. I thought I'd make us some pasta?'
'You serious?' Arthur asked. First breakfast, now this? Morgana had cooked for him once in the whole time they'd lived together. And it had been shit, some wholewheat crap which tasted of old socks. He wondered idly if she'd done it on purpose to stop him asking her to cook in future. Probably.
'Yeah, as long as you give me half the money. I quite fancy some pasta puttanesca.'
'Brilliant, and garlic bread?' he asked hopefully.
'Of course.'
'Look, you sit down and warm up first, you choose what you want to watch.' Arthur couldn't help grinning to himself, this was brilliant. He was genuinely glad that the Bulgarian bikini model hadn't moved in. Then he thought of the vague arousal he'd felt all day and re-assessed that. Maybe she could have moved in on weekends and Merlin the rest of the time? Yeah, that would have worked.
'How was your day?' Merlin asked.
'Yeah, good,' Arthur said, surprising himself. 'One of my, um, colleagues, is a bit tricky to work with, and he, um, she was quite nice today.' He didn't want to get drawn into any details of what he did. The only person who knew about the erotica and 'Lake Anders-gate' was bloody Leon and that was enough. He'd die if, say, Gwen found out, or, or, Morgana. He started sweating at the thought. 'She's quite mean to me, disagrees with all my thoughts on manuscripts, really officious, that kind of thing.'
'Sounds tough,' said Merlin, slurping away. 'I'd hate that. That's the good thing about what I do - it's freelance so no one winding me up all day! It gets a bit lonely at times, though, that's the downside. I work from home most of the time so I try and get out to the library or Costa for a bit, even though I do run the risk of being 'that dickhead with a laptop'.'
Arthur laughed, 'Yeah, I can imagine it's lonely. Must be quite nice for a bit though, and good money? That's what I miss about law. My bloody date tonight asked for a glass of expensive champagne and... I'm not who I used to be. Not just money-wise, but my interests as well, the places I go. My mate Leon says I'm nicer now, but I'd be happy being nicer, with a bit more cashish.'
'Yeah, it's cool being able to afford nice things now, we never could when I was a kid.' He looked down at his pyjamas ruefully, 'Not that you'd know I make decent money from what I look like! I'm saving for a house though, every spare penny goes there. It's why I work so hard, I've always got that goal in mind. I'd love to have my own place one day.'
'Well I'm enjoying the company so far,' Arthur said, flicking over to the football. 'I thought I was going to fucking hate living with a stranger. But you're cool.'
'Cheers,' Merlin clinked mugs with him. 'And on that note, let's get cooking. You can be sous-chef.'
Maybe if it was someone else Arthur would have told him to fuck off but he liked Merlin, liked the casual intimacy they'd built up so easily already. 'Yeah, sure, I can chop.'
***
The pasta was delicious and Arthur decreed he'd add anchovies to everything if he could, which made Merlin laugh.
'Even porridge?'
'Yep.'
'Chocolate mousse?'
'Definitely.'
'A roast dinner?'
'Um, okay, maybe not that far.'
'We should set up some rules,' Merlin said, after he'd wiped his mouth and stopped laughing.
'Like what?' Arthur asked, his mind immediately drawn back to the proposal he'd read earlier.
'Like who does the washing up, when we can have people to stay over, if we share milk, that kind of thing.'
'Cool. Vac the house and do kitchen and bathroom each week? I'm cool if you want your boyfriend over, though can we make it a max of three nights a week please, no smoking in the house, do your washing up each night, no noisy sex.'
'None?' Merlin teased, pretending to pout.
'Um, you've got sauce by your mouth,' Arthur pointed out. He swallowed.
'Oh,' Merlin poked his tongue out. 'Have I got it?'
'No, you, here,' Arthur reached over and thumbed the corner of Merlin's mouth. He let his thumb linger longer than he should have done, felt how full it was. 'Um, there you go,' he pulled back suddenly.
Merlin didn't say anything, but his eyes were very wide. He licked his lips again. Arthur looked away.
'So, any more rules?' Merlin asked. 'Apart from no noisy sex?'
'Nah, can't think of any,' Arthur said. 'None at all.' But his mind was suddenly full of them. It was very lucky, he told himself sternly, that Merlin wasn't his type. Too skinny by far. He didn't like men who looked indie, or sweet, or who wore striped pyjamas. He liked them as bulky as he was. Rugby players. Big guys. He shook his head. 'I think that's enough rules for now, mate. Want to watch some TV?'
'Yeah, cool,' Merlin smiled. He stretched as he got up and his shirt revealed several inches of pale stomach and narrow hips. Arthur's mouth went dry.
Stupid fucking book proposal, putting ideas in his head. And stupid fucking Lake. He shook his head and ambled through to the lounge. In his head he gave himself one more rule, 'Don't start to fancy your roommate, you complete twat.'
There, that ought to do it, and he settled himself in the football, and tried not to look at Merlin all night.
CHAPTER THREE
Fandom: Merlin (Merlin/Arthur)
Rating: R now but will end up NC-17
Word count: 3,620 this part (7k so far)
Summary: Modern AU. Arthur works in publishing and is ashamed to tell anyone he's secretly editing erotica, and being bullied by one of his authors - the arrogant 'Lake Anders'. He's also just taken in a new roommate, the adorable Merlin Emrys, who is definitely Not His Type. Or is he?
Notes: The term 'stet' is a proofreading term which means 'let it stand'. If an editor changes something and the author disagrees they will write 'stet' and their reasoning. 'Stet wars' can get quite nasty.
Previous chapters: CHAPTER ONE
When Arthur woke up the next morning it was to the irresistible smell of frying bacon. For a moment he was confused. Morgana had been vegan for the past year, and macrobiotic, and she most definitely definitely did not fry stuff in oil.
He padded downstairs in his boxers to make a cuppa, noticing with a smile that the heating was on. He'd been rowing with Morgana for months over the heating. She said that extreme cold was good for you so would sneak down each night to switch it off, waging silent warfare over the boiler to the degree that he had at one point considered sleeping in a thermal onesie. But no, he might not be getting laid, but that was no excuse to really let his standards slip that much.
'Arthur!' Merlin was wearing striped pyjamas - which did not help with the whole 'looking 17' thing he had going on - and was frying bacon and eggs. 'I made tea!' he put down a steaming tea-pot in front of Arthur.
Arthur slumped down in a kitchen chair, 'Did I dream you?' he asked.
'Um, no, why?'
'Morgana doesn't let me fry food because of the smell and no one's made me a cup of tea since... well, since Gwen.'
'Hey,' Merlin sympathised, 'you've now got the world's best roommate so you can look forward to a fry-up at least once a week and regular tea.'
'God you're nice,' Arthur said, picking up a mug and pouring it full of tea, before liberally adding milk and sugar. He drank deeply and sighed, 'Ah, Tetley.'
Merlin laughed, 'It's actually P.G. Tips.'
Arthur shrugged, 'I just like the advert.'
Merlin plonked down a plate in front of Arthur - buttery toast, baked beans, bacon, a fried egg and a big old dollop of H.P. sauce.
'Are you sure I didn't dream you?' Arthur asked as he bit into it.
Merlin looked shy, 'Do you like it?'
'S'fucking brilliant.' Egg squirted on his chin and he wiped it off. 'God your boyfriend's a dick.'
'Oi,' Merlin said, but he blushed and looked quite pleased as he sat down to tuck into his plate too.
'God, where do you put it Merlin?' Arthur asked, gobsmacked as Merlin practically inhaled the plate. I've never seen eating like that... and my mate Leon is banned from our local 'all-you-can-eat' Chinese lunch deal.'
Merlin snorted, 'Well, I'm naturally very greedy, of course,' he said, 'and I guess part of me hopes if I eat enough I'll fill out my body.' He peeled back his pyjama shirt to reveal a knobbly wrist and winced, then roughed his hair up again which he seemed to do when he was nervous.
Again, Arthur bit down the word 'adorable' knowing one, that it was inappropriate to call your tenant such a thing, and also knowing that it would only reinforce Merlin's belief that he was scrawny and childlike and not very sexy.
'My nickname at school was 'skeletor',' he sighed, moodily.
Arthur snorted and then turned it into a cough. He was practiced at this, having seen Leon do it many, many times. 'My nickname at school was 'King Arthur'.'
'Oh wow,' Merlin said, deadpan, through a mouthful of bacon. 'That must have been so tough for you.'
'Fine,' Arthur looked away, 'it was actually 'WanKing Arthur'. My fucking room-mate told everyone in sixth form he'd caught me giving myself a hand-shandy in the school urinals.'
Merlin burst out laughing.
'It's not funny,' Arthur insisted. 'The sick fuck told everyone - as if I'd wank in the urinals! I'm not some exhibitionist.'
'Ha, well, you've made me feel better,' Merlin said, dipping his toast in H.P. sauce with abandon. 'I might have been skinny, but I wasn't known for being some creepy sex-pervert with a penchant for the smell of urine.'
Arthur looked disgusted. 'Gross. God, it was a surprise I managed to find a girlfriend after those rumours went round.'
Merlin sniggered. 'You in tonight?'
'Nah, I've got a blind-date. Leon's set me up with one of his girlfriend's friends.' He wrinkled his nose. 'I fucking hate blind-dates. I've never had a good one.'
'I've never been on a blind-date. My sexual experience before my boyfriend was confined to blowjobs in some of Vauxhall's less salubrious night-spots. I only came out when I met him. Guess that's one thing to thank him for.'
'Even if he is a dick in all other respects,' Arthur said, grumpily, finishing his tea. 'If I had someone who treated me nicely and made me breakfast and tea I'd never look elsewhere.'
Merlin snorted, 'That's very nice of you - but despite my many shared qualities with a 50s housewife, there is the little problem of me not being his type. I mean, all his other boyfriends looked like... well, like you,' he gestured at Arthur's torso.
'What?' he asked, self-conscious.
'You know... Muscular. Big. Fit.' His gaze on Arthur's chest made him cross his arms defensively until Merlin looked away. 'And he said he liked me because of my 'personality' and well, I guess that's not enough is it? You have to have attraction too.'
'You should dump him,' Arthur said. 'Honestly, mate, if someone makes you feel this shit about yourself you should get rid of him.'
'You don't understand...' Merlin bit his lip, busied himself clearing the table. 'Someone who looks like you wouldn't. I'm a niche interest, and before him, I'd had no interest. And he's funny, and gorgeous, and smart and it's not that easy.'
'Look, I'm not good at heart to hearts,' Arthur said awkwardly. 'And I barely know you. But from what I do know you're a good bloke and you can do better. It's as easy as that.' He shrugged. 'Thanks for breakfast - I owe you one. I'll see you later, yeah, have a good day writing your text-books?'
'Thanks,' Merlin smiled, 'have a good day. Oh, shit, before I forget, let me give you my number, in case I get locked out or something.'
'Sure,' Arthur let him type his in to Arthur's phone, then called him. 'Um, how likely is it you will lock yourself out?'
'Pretty likely,' Merlin grinned, 'it's why I've developed such brilliant breakfast making skills. It eases the annoyance.'
***
In publishing there's a term for authors who you really, really wish you didn't have to work on. They're 'heart sinkers', as in, if you see their number, or their email, your heart sinks. In publishing, if you inherit someone else's authors, there's very little you can do about a heart sinker other than grit your teeth, push your shoulders back and try to make yourself read their emails without hitting 'delete'.
Arthur had had a very pleasant morning up until 11am. He'd arrived on time, pleasantly full of greasy food, he'd been congratulated in the publicity meeting for his ideas for their campaign relaunching backlist gems, and he'd blitzed a load of cover copy that his predecessor had 'kindly' left him.
Then, at 11:04 to be precise, his day was ruined. His outlook 'new mail' icon popped up in the right-hand of his screen: 'From: lake.anders@gmail.com Subject line: Rules for Roommates.'
His heart sank.
Big time.
He delayed the inevitable by going to the kitchen, pouring out all the water in the kettle, filling it to the brim, and waiting as it took ages to boil. Then he made himself a glass of water as well as a cup of tea, threw out all the off milk from the fridge, before finally, slowly making his way back to his desk.
He opened outlook and gingerly clicked on the email:
'Dear Arthur,
I am awaiting a response to several queries:
1. When can I expect to see covers for 'Hot Wet Ecstasy' and 'The Cabin-Boy's Lust'?
2. My backlist stretches to some 57 titles, will any of these be reprinted as part of your 'backlist gems' publishing programme?
3. I responded to your editorial notes on 'Boarding-School Orgy' on Friday 17th and have yet to receive a response. Please confirm you received them.
4. I am due the delivery advance on the above title (note my contracts state 'delivery of manuscript' not 'acceptance of text') - please confirm when I will receive the BACS transfer for this.
5. I have not yet received royalties due from the last accounting period. There was a delay last year and I was promised this would not happen again. Please discuss with your accounts team and revert as soon as possible.
6. I have come up with a new title to pitch: Rules for Roommates. I have attached a one-page synopsis outlining the plot. Please let me know if this is suitable.
I would appreciate your earliest response in this matter.
Best,
Lake Anders'
Arthur sat back, winded - every point on this list would take between 4 hours and 4 weeks to sort out and he knew if he didn't go back to Lake within the day, he'd get a series of increasingly obnoxious emails each day he delayed.
He flagged the email as 'important' in his inbox and then decided to do the easiest part, read the treatment for 'Rules for Roommates'.
Arthur pitied any roommate of Mr Lake Anders that was for sure. Arthur couldn't say the name in a normal voice, only in an obnoxiously nasal one. I mean, who was fucking called Lake Anders? His real name was probably something dull like Tom Smith, or, and Arthur liked this one better, he had a totally unfortunate name like 'Fred West' or 'Harold Shipman'.
Ha.
Arthur skimmed the short precis: two men move in together. One is gay, one is very straight, works out at the gym all the time, plays rugby, same old same old. The gay one gradually seduces the straight one and there is a misunderstanding (obviously) before the 'straight' one ended up being shagged in very inventive ways around the house. For Lake, it was actually quite sweet. As far as Arthur could see no household implements had been used in inventive ways, and no pizza delivery boys or window-cleaners had joined in. Hmm.
He then read the longer synopsis which explained the title. The straight housemate, 'James', had come up with a list of rules both him and 'Harry' had to follow. These started off innocently about when they could bring people home, doing washing-up etc etc, but as Harry seduced James they become dirtier. James wouldn't admit to his desires so they started that they could watch each other masturbate but not touch, but over time he broke down and the rules dictated next that they could use hands, then mouths... then the inevitable happened. Arthur found himself oddly turned on by the narrative. Normally he was never turned on by what he read at work. A lot of the books frightened him, for myriad reasons, but this was. Well. Quite hot actually.
He decided to bite the bullet and email back Lake right away.
'Dear Lake,
Thank you for your note. I will respond to your other queries shortly. I have just read 'Rules for Roommates' and must congratulate you - it is a very neat plot device, nicely drawn characters and an obvious appeal for the market.
Kind regards,
Arthur'
He hit send and decided to go through the editorial notes to 'Boarding School Orgy'.
It was littered with 'stets' from Lake.
'This is an obvious joking reference to Gossip Girl and must be left in.'
'I am disgusted that you want to remove this scene with the shower-rail from what I can only assume is homophobia.'
'This is a literary reference to Ovid's Metamorphoses.'
Stet, stet, stet. In the end Arthur's head swam with it and he minimised the window, deciding to get started on a some cover briefs for a Regency Romance series he was working on.
Then an email pinged in. Ugh, Lake, again.
'Hi Arthur,
Thank you for your kind words. I think this idea really has legs and the characters could perhaps become series characters. I am glad that you enjoyed the synopsis - I had fun writing it!
All best,
Lake'
Arthur blinked. Had he read that right? Lake had been nice to him? Well, that was interesting. With renewed vigor he attacked the cover brief. 'Need a big, muscular model with shirt ripped open to the waist, cradling a woman in negligee. She needs to be blonde and be clinging entreatingly up to him. This is not a cover to be brave with, needs to sit firmly in market. Think creamy bosoms and quivering thighs.'
***
7pm and Arthur was in the crappy bar his blind-date, Vivian, had picked. It was in Leicester Square for one, aka the most touristy of tourist traps that ever touristed, and it was full of wanker bankers for two. Arthur could pass as a wanker banker - and, truth be told, had used to behave like one - but his recent step-down job-wise had given him what Leon had termed 'some much needed humility.'
'You must be Arthur?' she was blonde, and pretty, Arthur saw with relief. Nicely dressed, if a bit smart, expensive earrings and watch.
'Yes, pleasure to meet you,' he got up and kissed both her cheeks, pulling her seat out for her. 'What can I get you to drink?'
'Glass of Pol Roger Cuvee?'
Arthur winced inwardly. Fucking cheek of asking for that as a drink. And he bet that she would not offer to get the next round. 'Sure,' he said.
'Glass of cava, mate,' he said at the bar, knowing he couldn't afford to spend £30 on one glass of champagne. 'And I'll have a lime and soda water.'
The date went from bad to worse. She didn't notice the cheap booze he'd substituted her order with which made him think less of her (it was obviously the name she liked rather than the taste) and she kept up a constant stream of stories about skiing, and her members' club, and all the launches she went to with the luxury PR company she worked for.
An hour in and Arthur was certain she didn't know where he lived, what he did, or what any of his interests were. She probably barely knew his name, and it didn't matter how much she flicked her hair or pouted: he just couldn't bring himself to find her interesting.
'Oh god, sorry,' he yelped, as his phone buzzed aggressively in his pocket. He pulled it out: Merlin.
'I'm so sorry but I've locked myself out. And it's pouring with rain. And I'm cold.'
'Fuck,' he muttered, whilst smiling secretly. 'I'll be there in twenty minutes.'
'I'm so sorry Vivian but I've got to go. I've just sub-let a room in my flat to someone and he's locked himself out and there's no spare key. This was lovely, thanks.' He air-kissed her again and then with a rueful wave left. She didn't look particularly bothered.
***
'You are an absolute beauty,' he grabbed Merlin and planted a smacker on his lips. Merlin looked shocked.
'What did I-?'
'Date from hell. I was dying inside, and then you call and give me the perfect excuse. You are my new favourite person.'
He let a wet, shivering, Merlin in. 'I'll have to get a spare key cut if you do this regularly.'
'Might be an idea, fuck I'm cold,' Merlin bolted upstairs, re-emerging minutes later in his pyjamas with a towel round his shoulders and his hair sticking up at all angles. All he needed was a teddy-bear to complete the picture. Arthur wanted to pinch his cheeks but instead handed him a steaming cup of tea.
'Want to order chinese?' he asked.
'Nah, I like cooking. I thought I'd make us some pasta?'
'You serious?' Arthur asked. First breakfast, now this? Morgana had cooked for him once in the whole time they'd lived together. And it had been shit, some wholewheat crap which tasted of old socks. He wondered idly if she'd done it on purpose to stop him asking her to cook in future. Probably.
'Yeah, as long as you give me half the money. I quite fancy some pasta puttanesca.'
'Brilliant, and garlic bread?' he asked hopefully.
'Of course.'
'Look, you sit down and warm up first, you choose what you want to watch.' Arthur couldn't help grinning to himself, this was brilliant. He was genuinely glad that the Bulgarian bikini model hadn't moved in. Then he thought of the vague arousal he'd felt all day and re-assessed that. Maybe she could have moved in on weekends and Merlin the rest of the time? Yeah, that would have worked.
'How was your day?' Merlin asked.
'Yeah, good,' Arthur said, surprising himself. 'One of my, um, colleagues, is a bit tricky to work with, and he, um, she was quite nice today.' He didn't want to get drawn into any details of what he did. The only person who knew about the erotica and 'Lake Anders-gate' was bloody Leon and that was enough. He'd die if, say, Gwen found out, or, or, Morgana. He started sweating at the thought. 'She's quite mean to me, disagrees with all my thoughts on manuscripts, really officious, that kind of thing.'
'Sounds tough,' said Merlin, slurping away. 'I'd hate that. That's the good thing about what I do - it's freelance so no one winding me up all day! It gets a bit lonely at times, though, that's the downside. I work from home most of the time so I try and get out to the library or Costa for a bit, even though I do run the risk of being 'that dickhead with a laptop'.'
Arthur laughed, 'Yeah, I can imagine it's lonely. Must be quite nice for a bit though, and good money? That's what I miss about law. My bloody date tonight asked for a glass of expensive champagne and... I'm not who I used to be. Not just money-wise, but my interests as well, the places I go. My mate Leon says I'm nicer now, but I'd be happy being nicer, with a bit more cashish.'
'Yeah, it's cool being able to afford nice things now, we never could when I was a kid.' He looked down at his pyjamas ruefully, 'Not that you'd know I make decent money from what I look like! I'm saving for a house though, every spare penny goes there. It's why I work so hard, I've always got that goal in mind. I'd love to have my own place one day.'
'Well I'm enjoying the company so far,' Arthur said, flicking over to the football. 'I thought I was going to fucking hate living with a stranger. But you're cool.'
'Cheers,' Merlin clinked mugs with him. 'And on that note, let's get cooking. You can be sous-chef.'
Maybe if it was someone else Arthur would have told him to fuck off but he liked Merlin, liked the casual intimacy they'd built up so easily already. 'Yeah, sure, I can chop.'
***
The pasta was delicious and Arthur decreed he'd add anchovies to everything if he could, which made Merlin laugh.
'Even porridge?'
'Yep.'
'Chocolate mousse?'
'Definitely.'
'A roast dinner?'
'Um, okay, maybe not that far.'
'We should set up some rules,' Merlin said, after he'd wiped his mouth and stopped laughing.
'Like what?' Arthur asked, his mind immediately drawn back to the proposal he'd read earlier.
'Like who does the washing up, when we can have people to stay over, if we share milk, that kind of thing.'
'Cool. Vac the house and do kitchen and bathroom each week? I'm cool if you want your boyfriend over, though can we make it a max of three nights a week please, no smoking in the house, do your washing up each night, no noisy sex.'
'None?' Merlin teased, pretending to pout.
'Um, you've got sauce by your mouth,' Arthur pointed out. He swallowed.
'Oh,' Merlin poked his tongue out. 'Have I got it?'
'No, you, here,' Arthur reached over and thumbed the corner of Merlin's mouth. He let his thumb linger longer than he should have done, felt how full it was. 'Um, there you go,' he pulled back suddenly.
Merlin didn't say anything, but his eyes were very wide. He licked his lips again. Arthur looked away.
'So, any more rules?' Merlin asked. 'Apart from no noisy sex?'
'Nah, can't think of any,' Arthur said. 'None at all.' But his mind was suddenly full of them. It was very lucky, he told himself sternly, that Merlin wasn't his type. Too skinny by far. He didn't like men who looked indie, or sweet, or who wore striped pyjamas. He liked them as bulky as he was. Rugby players. Big guys. He shook his head. 'I think that's enough rules for now, mate. Want to watch some TV?'
'Yeah, cool,' Merlin smiled. He stretched as he got up and his shirt revealed several inches of pale stomach and narrow hips. Arthur's mouth went dry.
Stupid fucking book proposal, putting ideas in his head. And stupid fucking Lake. He shook his head and ambled through to the lounge. In his head he gave himself one more rule, 'Don't start to fancy your roommate, you complete twat.'
There, that ought to do it, and he settled himself in the football, and tried not to look at Merlin all night.
CHAPTER THREE