Continua Part 2
Masterpost . Part 1
On Friday, Merlin knocks on Arthur's door.
"Come in," he says absently as he rifles through the reports on his desk.
"Morning. Here, this is your brief," Merlin says as approaches Arthur's desk. "Do you need anything else for your meeting today?"
"I'd kill for more coffee," Arthur answers, then before he knows it, Merlin is setting a thick paper cup down on a coaster in front of him. "Where the bloody hell were you hiding that?" he asks, smiling as he picks it up and breathes in the aroma. Things like this are what set Merlin apart. He's always a step ahead of what Arthur wants and needs. At least, when it comes to work he is.
"Behind my back, of course," Merlin answers, looking like he's not sure whether he's allowed to laugh or not. "Um . . . Anything else?"
Arthur takes in Merlin's pallor. He looks worse than he did when Arthur saw him this morning, although that could be Arthur's imagination. He hasn't been looking forward to having this conversation with Merlin - it never goes well when they talk about the curse.
"Yes, actually," he says, then looks away and takes another sip of coffee. They've messed things up by letting themselves slip two days ago. They're out of routine now. "You won't last until Monday."
"I know," Merlin says, looking like he wants to leave.
"Weekends, as you know, are out for me," he says, carefully avoiding mentioning Gwen even though they both know she's why. "So. Should we-are you free after work tonight?" Arthur asks, because it sounds nicer when he puts it that way.
Merlin swallows and nods. "Um. Yeah-yes. I can be."
There's a slight thrill that runs through Arthur at the thought Merlin will be changing his plans, because as much as Arthur hates the curse and what it makes them do, sometimes, in the very pits of his soul, he can admit to himself that he likes how it keeps them together. He likes that today he will get to touch Merlin.
"What will you tell Gwaine?" he asks, prying a little. They never talk about Merlin's relationship. Just like they don't really talk about Arthur's marriage. He's still curious though. Wants to look for cracks.
"I'll tell him my prick of a boss needs me to work late," Merlin says, a challenging smile on his face that looks like it could almost be flirtatious.
Arthur smirks back. "Well in that case, your prick of a boss needs you for dinner as well."
Merlin's face falls. "Arthur-I don't-"
And it hurts, being so instantly rejected. "Nevermind," Arthur snaps. He stands suddenly, grabbing his coffee and the brief Merlin prepared for him. He's obviously been deluding himself into thinking they were getting closer, that Merlin was going to let him have anything other than sex. "I'll see you later."
Merlin watches him leave, an annoyed look on his face.
After the meeting, Arthur spends his afternoon staring at his computer. He taps a pen against his desk as he scrolls through Google searches for random things: Merlin's name, curses, plush hotel rooms close by. He ponders booking a weekend away and taking Merlin somewhere-maybe the Swiss Alps?-and trying to rekindle what they had all those years ago. Even though he knows it's fruitless. Neither of them are single anymore, and while Arthur could get the time away from Gwen, it's unlikely Gwaine would be okay with it.
Arthur's bothered by it, the whole Merlin and Gwaine thing. He knows he shouldn't be. Hell, he's the one who told Merlin he should find someone else-back when it became clear they could never have a healthy relationship together. They'd both decided, really. And then Arthur had started seeing Gwen.
For the first time, Arthur wonders how Merlin must have felt back then, when Arthur had called him to explain that he'd asked Gwen to dinner. Or when they were at the flat and Arthur casually mentioned that he and Gwen were serious, that he was thinking of proposing. Or-God-the wedding. Did Merlin resent them?
Probably, Arthur decides, staring at the listing for a ski resort. He doesn't even like skiing. Or snow. And suddenly he doesn't want to go anywhere.
Merlin knocks on his door just after six when almost everyone else has left. Arthur looks up from where he's been moving figures around on a spreadsheet.
"Not a productive day, then," Merlin comments as he closes the door behind him.
Arthur smiles while he huffs out a breath. Merlin was the only assistant who'd think to question what Arthur had been up to all day. It's what made him so attractive initially.
"No. Not very." Arthur runs his hands through his hair and links them behind his head. He's trying to be casual but it feels forced, and he knows Merlin will see through it.
Merlin raises his brow as pulls out his seat. "Are you all right?" he asks.
"Me? Yes. I guess." Merlin snorts his disbelief. "Or not," Arthur adjusts, giving Merlin a half smile for not accepting his bullshit.
"Do you want to . . . talk?" Merlin asks. He looks curious, but at the same time wary. "About earlier?"
Arthur leans back in his chair. He's exhausted, but that's not unusual for a Friday. He tells himself it's absolutely not because he's been pining after his assistant all day. He looks up at Merlin and wonders what's going through his head-is he at all interested anymore? If they didn't have the curse would he choose Arthur over Gwaine?
Merlin meets his eyes and they're soft, kind in their gaze. Caring? Concerned now, with how long Arthur has been staring. Arthur looks away and reminds himself that it doesn't matter if Merlin prefers Gwaine; Merlin should prefer Gwaine. It doesn't matter because any feelings between Arthur and Merlin are just going to make their situation harder.
"I shouldn't have asked you to dinner," Arthur admits.
"Look, I-"
"No, I shouldn't have. I temporarily forgot, the blurring lines and such."
Merlin nods. "But we can't forget."
"I know." Arthur sighs, and decides a bit of honesty can't hurt. "It's hard, though. Having you back here-it reminds me of what things used to be like."
And Merlin smiles shyly, looks down at his hands. "Me too." It's only two words but it feels like something has lifted in Arthur's chest. He smiles, can't help but try and be disarming. Merlin notices and laughs, knows he's been caught thinking about it as well. "You used to be more fun, though," he throws out, attempting to scatter their moment.
"Oh, really?" Arthur says, playing along. "That's one way to put it, I guess." Merlin picks up the business newspaper and flings it at Arthur's head. "What? I was just commenting that 'fun' would not be how I'd have described myself."
"Fine. You were cocky, and demanding, and infuriating."
Arthur laughs. "I'm still those things. Most of the time anyway."
Merlin smiles. "Yes. Most of the time." He pauses and Arthur knows it's to avoid talking of how Arthur is the rest of the time-and why that might be. "I guess I meant we used to have more fun together," he says, shoulders shrugging offhandedly.
Arthur's grateful Merlin didn't get bogged down in Arthur's self-pitying mood. He tries to play along, saying, "Well I still wouldn't describe that as just fun," but as soon as it's out of his mouth he wants to take it back. It's about the cheesiest line he could have come up with, and judging by the look on Merlin's face, he thinks so, too.
"Oh, well, enlighten me then," Merlin says after openly laughing at him. "How would you describe our past relationship?"
Arthur leans back in his chair and ponders the question, is torn between answering seriously or joking and trying to save his dignity. When he considers what he could say to make Merlin laugh, it feels cheap, and he doesn't want to do that.
"Secret," he says solemnly, because it was, and he regrets it to this day. "Exciting," he adds, because thrilling sounds too smitten. It's true though. Every day they were together made Arthur feel alive. "Sexy," he adds after a pause. And that's the part Arthur really misses. Now, sex between them is necessary. There's no spontaneity, no lustful surprise. It's always going to happen again.
Merlin's frown mirrors his own and he wishes he could take the words back. It wasn't his intention to make Merlin feel bad. Their situation is what it is, and they know all too well that disliking it makes nothing better.
"Merlin, I'm-" But what does he say? He meets Merlin's eyes, admires how blue and clear they are.
And then Merlin stands up and locks the door, then shuts the blinds. "There's no reason why it can't still be that way," he says, his voice uncertain, worried. When he finishes, he walks to Arthur's side of the desk and pushes his chair so it rolls out from the desk. "If I recall, you did always want to fuck in this chair." Merlin leans down and he's close, almost too close. He whispers, "I want this," and before Arthur can stop him, Merlin kisses him, slow and wet to begin with, but it quickly turns into the frantic licking and sucking that Arthur recognises as the curse.
Merlin pulls on Arthur's shoulders and Arthur follows, stunned that Merlin has thrown himself into this. Arthur stands and Merlin goes straight to unbuckle Arthur's belt, hands clumsy in their urgency. He has the crazed, hungry look on his face and Arthur hates it because just a moment ago he had his Merlin back.
He tries not to think about it as they undress, tries to focus on Merlin's words, because he said he wanted it, and Arthur holds onto that, uses it as fuel while he kisses Merlin, runs his hands freely all over his body. He hoists Merlin up onto his desk and stands between his thighs, kissing and kissing and kissing, while in his head he repeats the litany of "he wants this, he wants this."
There's no lube so Arthur turns Merlin around and opens him up with fingers wet from Merlin's mouth. He takes his time easing in, ignoring the way Merlin whines for more. It's not until he's fully seated that he looks, sees Merlin's lanky back stretched out in front of him, on his desk. From the corner of Arthur's eye, he can see the picture of Gwen, but he ignores it, moves slowly out of Merlin and then pushes back in.
In the back of his mind he remembers chair sex, so he pulls Merlin with him as he sits in his chair, Merlin on his lap, and the angle is perfect and the slight give in the recline means they barely have to move at all. Arthur gets carried away, forgets he's in his own office and it's not yet late enough for the place to be empty. He pulls Merlin down firmer, bites behind Merlin's ears, laps at his neck.
Merlin tries to kiss him back, but Arthur's not inclined to make it easy for him. He's taking everything now, every inch of skin he hasn't let himself touch because it was too intimate for their routine.
Arthur feels Merlin's cock, hot and hard, strokes him, pulls noises out of him that he hasn't heard in years. They're so connected now and Arthur thinks this is better, this is how it should be-so much closer than he and Gwen.
Arthur's desperate now. He pushes out of the chair and bends Merlin back over his desk and fucks him, fucks him and frigs Merlin's dick until he comes.
He finishes with a strangled groan, too loud but he doesn't give a fuck. His hand is a mess and they're covered in sweat but that isn't enough to make Arthur want to let go. Not even after the little shiver runs through Merlin and he knows it's complete, that the curse is satisfied. Arthur never wants to let go.
"Do you love him?" Arthur asks, voice hoarse and gritty.
It's a stupid question; he shouldn't have asked. But he still has some sort of juvenile need to want to mean more to Merlin than anyone else. And maybe, maybe if he could know Merlin loved him the most, maybe then he could be brave enough to be alone. So Arthur kisses around the back of Merlin's neck, takes his fill, and waits for Merlin's answer.
Merlin tilts his neck back for more contact and Arthur can now reach his ear lobe. He sucks on it and Merlin lets out a little sigh. "Yes," he says.
And Arthur can understand that. He loves Gwen after all. Not like he used to, but things are different between them now-complicated. And he knows he should leave but how can he? How could he be by himself and watch Merlin-
Arthur's face is buried in Merlin's neck now, hidden while he gets himself together. After a pause to collect himself, he pulls away and starts to wipe off his hand. He fixes his clothes next, distracting himself, and Merlin does the same.
When they're done, Arthur starts gathering his things, shoving reports into his briefcase even though he knows he's going to spend the night sipping scotch, not combing through financials. Merlin makes a cursory attempt at wiping up the mess with some tissues.
"Is everything all right?" Merlin asks when he's finished and should probably be leaving. "With you and Gwen?"
Arthur stops fiddling and lets out a breath. He doesn't want Merlin to know just how much he has messed up. Doesn't want to appear anything other than in control.
"I did wonder, when Gwen was asking me to get you some time off. Are you two okay?"
Arthur gives Merlin a tight smile. "Everything's fine." He looks around, checks to ensure nothing looks too out of place. Now his office is going to remind him of Merlin, too.
"I think we should stick to the flat from now on," he says, then clears his throat. "And next week we should resume Mondays and Thursdays."
Merlin doesn't look hurt or angry, just concerned. "Okay," he says.
"Right." Arthur looks around again, but there's no reason to stay. "See you Monday."
"Bye," Merlin says, watching too closely as Arthur walks away.
It's not until Arthur is in his car that he realises they didn't share a parting kiss.
For the next two weeks, it's like the office fuck didn't happen.
Arthur set out to forget about it-threw himself into work and focused on it rather than Merlin. And Merlin followed his lead, as Arthur knew he would. They've been perfectly efficient and productive, not deviating from their routine at all.
Which is why when George shows up at Arthur's door holding a brown paper bag, it completely throws him.
"Where's Merlin," is the first thing he says.
George is unflappable. "I believe he is at lunch. With your wife."
Arthur's eyebrows shoot up. "Gwen? She was here?"
"Yes, sir. She instructed me to pick this up for you." George lifts the bag he's holding, raising it just so. He's always so meticulous. It's creepy.
"Right. Please bring it in," Arthur says. George steps forward in clear strides and places the bag on Arthur's desk.
"Anything else, sir?"
"No, thank you."
George nods his head before he leaves, but it comes off as more of a bow and Arthur cringes and stares at his screen to avoid giving any sort of approval. When George is safely out of view, Arthur eyes the bag. Merlin had already emailed Arthur earlier asking if he wanted his usual for lunch, and Arthur had replied, 'yes'. Why hadn't Merlin mentioned then that he wouldn't be bringing it in?
Arthur snatches at the bag and opens it just as roughly. Inside, there's a suspiciously wrap-shaped item, which looks like it has a lot of colour, none of it brown.
He glares at the bag, decides eating the contents would be condoning them, and that's not the message Arthur is going to send Merlin. Or George, for that matter.
Arthur stands and dons his jacket, then bins the bag on his way out of the office. It's London, for fuck's sake. It's not like it's hard to find food here.
When Merlin finally shows his face, Arthur is ready for him.
"Merlin," he calls, his voice icy.
Merlin closes the drawer where he keeps his personal items and looks up, guilt written all across his face. He follows Arthur into the office, closes the door behind him.
Arthur turns around before they reach the desk, the perfect spot to obscure Merlin's view. Oh yes, Arthur rehearsed this. "A salad wrap, Merlin? Really?"
Merlin has the decency to look abashed. "I swear, it was Gwen. She told George to get it."
"You are aware you work for me, right?" Arthur says. "And not for my wife. Ergo, you should be looking out for my best interests."
Merlin smiles weakly. "Well, from what Gwen said, not feeding you an artery clogging burger is probably looking after your-" Merlin glances at Arthur's waistline, and Arthur scoffs.
"Not to worry, I've already exacted my revenge." And with that, Arthur steps aside to reveal the container sitting on his desk. He picks it up, stares at it thoughtfully. "It seems something has happened to all the hot chocolate in the tea room. Six whole cans of it-vanished! I'm sure it won't be missed though. I mean, no one around here really drinks that stuff, do they?" Arthur finishes and waits for Merlin to play along, maybe throw a pencil at him, but instead, Merlin gives a half-hearted chuckle and plonks himself into Arthur's guest chair.
It's a wholly disappointing reaction. Arthur had felt like a genius when he'd thought of nicking the hot chocolate powder, but Merlin seems to have missed the part where he is practically dependent on the stuff and turns into a sullen child whenever they run out.
"That's it?" he asks.
Merlin's eyes widen slightly. "Oh! Sorry, that's very clever, Arthur. Very diabolical."
"Yes, it is," Arthur agrees. Now that he's got a reaction, however poor, he can finally acknowledge that Merlin looks downright miserable. "I'm guessing lunch with Gwen wasn't exactly a reunion sort of thing," he says, sitting down himself.
Merlin sighs. "No. No, she wanted some advice on how to deal with you. Specifically she wanted to know if this is how you were behaving before we broke up."
"God," Arthur says, groaning it out. "She should have come to me. I'm sorry."
"You don't know women at all, do you?" Merlin asks, clearly admonishing. It's in a fond way, though.
"Oh, and you do?"
"Of course she's not going to go to you and complain about how you ignore her and apparently don't even . . . make love with her anymore." He takes a deep breath, shakes his head at the folly. "Gwen's too nice for that, and you know it. She just wanted to know if you were okay."
"Yes, and took the opportunity to spill the secrets of our marriage, it seems."
"It wasn't like that." Merlin stares out the window, then looks back at Arthur in an assessing way. "Are you happy?" Merlin finally asks, his tone serious, yet gentle.
Arthur goes to answer an automatic 'yes', but stops himself, because no, he isn't. Not really. Is he happier than six months ago? Absolutely. But there is still too much standing in the way of uncomplicated contentment, what he would equate to real happiness.
"I'm not unhappy," he answers, being as tactful as he can manage after such a long pause.
"I meant with Gwen. She said some things . . ." Arthur can practically see Merlin biting his tongue to keep from telling him, and it's all for naught because Arthur already knows.
"Right," he says, picking up a pen to keep his hands busy and give him something to stare at. He turns it over in his fingers, tapping it on the desk each rotation. Admitting that he knows is going to make him sound bad; admitting that he almost encouraged it is going to sound worse.
"I'm aware that I don't pay enough attention to my wife," he starts. He doesn't want to excuse himself completely, but if he explains this just the right way, Merlin might understand, at least. "And although it may seem uncaring of me, I have put your needs above hers, and my own." He turns the pen a few more times, knowing this is what he is most ashamed of. "It may have been ill thought out, but at the time, I thought how unfair it was for me to expect her to remain faithful under those circumstances, especially when I wasn't, and I may have-not encouraged, but, perhaps facilitated our current situation." There, he's said it. Although from the look on Merlin's face, most of it may have passed him by.
"You know?" Merlin says in disbelief.
"Of course I know," Arthur says, annoyed at the accusatory edge to Merlin's voice even though it's perfectly justifiable.
"You facilitated?"
"In a way. I assume she told you who it is?" Merlin looks uncertain, like he doesn't want to spill Gwen's secrets, so Arthur gives him a nod and lets Merlin figure it out for himself.
"Lancelot," Merlin says out loud and his face pales. "That's why he transferred back?"
"No, no. I just-I invited him back to this office and assumed things would pick up where they'd left off before."
"But he and Gwen weren't-"
"Even a blind man could see there was something there, Merlin." Arthur taps the pen a few more times, feels emptier for some reason. Maybe because he hadn't known for certain, not until now.
"Right." Merlin slumps in his chair and looks confused. "All this time, I thought you didn't like how he looked at me."
Arthur meets his eyes. "I didn't. Although, to be honest, it was never really about how he looked at you; it was the way you looked at him. And the way Gwen did. They way everyone did."
Merlin chews on his bottom lip as he thinks this over, then he frowns. "You're such an arse. You and Gwen weren't even dating then. You had no right-"
"Yes, Merlin, and with the benefit of objective hindsight, I realise I was an arse. In my defence, it's not like I purposely set out to have an unhappy marriage. What I didn't account for was my lack of fertile sperm, or how much that could sap your love life when all your partner really wants is children."
Everything is quiet for a moment, until Merlin speaks. "I'm sorry. I didn't know."
"That's because I didn't tell you." Arthur throws the pen onto his desk and takes a deep, cleansing breath. "Look, I know what Gwen and I have is not ideal, but at the time, when I wrote to Lancelot, it seemed fair. Reasonable. I wasn't thinking straight," he adds. Saying it out loud, he hears how he sounds unintentionally cruel, exactly the way his father used to come across.
"And now?"
"Now, things are different. I'll talk to her. I've been meaning to for a while," he says. He should say he's been avoiding it-that would be the truth-but he's not ready to admit he's been waiting for something that can never eventuate.
"She cried, you know."
"Jesus," Arthur says, feeling properly shamed now. "I'm sorry, I should never have let it go on this long."
"If I didn't have this-if I wasn't cursed, you and Gwen, you would have been all right," Merlin says.
"Come on, Merlin, if you really want to play this game, I could argue that if the curse had never happened we'd still be together and adopting children." That earns him a smile, and the slight trace of a blush.
"You should try, with Gwen, I mean. You love her-it's not right that you should break up." Arthur smiles even though in his head, he doesn't see it happening. Merlin perceives his doubt. "We just need to get rid of this damn curse."
"And how do you propose we do that?" Arthur doesn't mean to sound condescending, but he does. He scrambles to explain. "We don't even know how we ended up this way. Christ, we don't even know when it started!"
"I remember the day," Merlin says, quietly. "I didn't think anything of it at the time, but there was something different with . . . how I felt."
"When was it?"
"Um . . . I know we were at work, and I just sort of felt . . . drawn to you. I ended up blowing you at your desk."
Arthur frowns. "Well, I remember that." He'd been ridiculously turned on by it and terrified someone would know Merlin was under his desk, sucking messily on his cock.
Merlin continues, "I don't know what caused it though. I was normal one day and then the next . . . "
Arthur tears himself from the memory, attempts to think rationally about it. "Had you done anything different that day?"
"No. I can't think of anything. What about you?"
Arthur tries to remember. Merlin had come into his office and practically sat on his lap and started trying to pull Arthur's shirt apart. Arthur had stopped him, and come to think of it, Merlin had seemed a bit annoyed by that, but then he'd just climbed off Arthur's lap, knelt on the floor and pushed his thighs apart.
That had been a good memory. He didn't like sullying it now, had always thought Merlin was willing then.
Had Arthur done anything different that day? The previous day? It wasn't long after his father had passed-that's why he hadn't felt like making out in an office that had so many memories. And hadn't he been at the family house the day before?
"I'd been at the house, clearing out some of father's things."
Merlin stares at Arthur, blinks. "Was anyone else there?"
"No. Morgana had been there during the week, and Catrina was at the apartment."
At that, Merlin looks up, worry clear on his face. "Maybe he had the curse?"
Arthur doesn't follow at first, so Merlin continues. "I mean, we never could fathom why your father was with her. Maybe they had-this."
"And what," Arthur asks, "I somehow caught it?"
"I don't know," says Merlin, a panicked edge to his voice. "Maybe? It's something though, right?"
"Christ," Arthur says, standing abruptly. "It would explain a lot of things." Why his father always kept her close: on holidays, on business trips. Arthur had wondered why, because they never did seem to be in love. He hadn't been surprised when she'd left after Uther died, but maybe this was why. Maybe she was finally free.
"Arthur," Merlin says faintly. "Uther died."
Merlin pales when he says it and Arthur knows why. If what they are saying is true, Uther had the curse until he drew his last breath. They will have this curse for the rest of their lives.
Arthur shakes his head. "If it was possible for a person to create the curse, surely somewhere in the world there has to be someone who can remove it."
Merlin's expression is hopeless and Arthur can't stand it, can't bear the thought that Merlin is giving up already.
"Look, I'll try and find Catrina-talk with her."
"Catrina would never help you," Merlin says, shaking his head.
Arthur grits his teeth. "What else would you suggest, then?"
"I don't know!"
They're both worked up and upset, and Arthur knows nothing will seem sufficient in this light. "I'll go and see Morgana tomorrow," he says. "Maybe she remembers something from the house. At the very least, she'll know where I can find Catrina."
Arthur enters Morgana's office, closes the door behind him before making eye contact. Everything about Morgana and her office is stylish, to an almost gaudy extent-bright colours and odd textures, just tinkering on the edge of taste.
She's sitting like a display model, posture perfect, slightly at odds with the genuinely welcoming look on her face.
"Arthur," she says in greeting, smiling like she is actually pleased to see him. Arthur returns it easily enough, even feels like he's missed her. They don't see each other very often now, not with both of them being so busy and Uther no longer around to tie them together.
"Hi," he replies, taking a seat in a lime-coloured, leather-upholstered chair, one he usually avoids because it completely lacks comfort, but he's trying to send her a message. He's here to talk.
"To what do I owe this pleasure?"
He takes a deep breath, lets it out as though he's considering what he has to say. "I don't suppose you've heard from Catrina recently?"
Morgana's smile fades. "No, thank goodness. Why?"
"I just . . . I need to find her."
"I don't think that's a good idea, Arthur. She hates you, you know." Her voice is clipped and Arthur mentally kicks himself for not opening with something else. Anything else.
"Well, it is rather important," he says, with a hint of an apology.
Morgana glares at him, looks ready to tell him off, but then she must see his desperation. "What is it?" She's always like this, swinging between caring and concerned, then selfish and judgmental. It does seem to be a family trait.
Arthur tries to sit back in the chair, gives up and puts his elbows on his knees, clasping his fingers together. "Do you believe in curses?"
"Curses?" Her brow is furrowed but she's still listening. They take each other's measure for a moment, and then Arthur decides that she's family. She'll either believe him or tell him to seek help.
"I think . . . no, I know, I have some kind of curse." He has to bite back all his grounds for his conclusions, all his evidence. Those secrets are Merlin's, and Arthur rambling on about sex and the magical properties of his come will hardly convince Morgana he is sane.
"Arthur-"
"I know how it sounds, but it's the truth. And I think that Catrina may have suffered from it too. I need to find her and see if she can tell me anything."
Morgana pushes away from her desk, purses her lips and stares at Arthur like she's reluctantly searching for some indication he's lost his mind. She hasn't suggested psychiatry, so that's something.
A minute passes in silence, and then, "Do you remember Gaius?" she asks out of the blue.
Arthur searches his memory but he's never heard the name before. "No."
"He was my doctor when we were younger," she says. "Sometimes he would say things that made me think he was . . . " she trails off looking thoughtful. "I used to have these dreams. Dreams of things that were going to happen. He believed they were premonitions."
Arthur has a faint memory of that. "You had trouble sleeping," he states, unsure if she's being serious or relating some tale of morality.
"Yes, well, that's what Uther liked to call it."
But it wasn't just Uther. Arthur remembers everyone being tight-lipped and stern whenever he was concerned for Morgana, how they'd whisper about her 'attention-seeking' and Arthur didn't understand what that meant until he was older. He'd never considered Morgana wasn't making it up.
"What happened?"
"Uther found a different doctor, someone younger, someone who didn't 'indulge' me. It worked, though. I haven't had those dreams since I was a child. But sometimes I wonder if they were real. Gaius certainly seemed to think so."
Arthur stills, isn't quite sure what to make of Morgana's story. "Well, he may have been causing them. Hallucinogens, perhaps?"
Morgana laughs. "Oh, God, no. Nothing like that. Gaius? Could you imagine?" Arthur gives her a look because no, he can't imagine, not having met the man before. "He was just open to different ideas," she clarifies. "Maybe he's the sort of person you should be looking for?"
"Right." The suggestion that Arthur track down a man who has questionable ethics makes him suspect Morgana is starting to take the piss, and he doesn't have time for that. He pushes out his chair.
"She won't help you, you know. If you were to tell her what you just told me, think of what would happen."
He pauses mid-rise as Morgana's words sink in. Catrina is manipulative, he knows that, but ever since Arthur started suspecting she'd carried the curse, he's cast her in a different light: a victim as opposed to the perpetrator. He hadn't really considered the consequences of talking to her until now.
If Catrina knew the son of the founder of Pendragon Bank and one of its current executives was claiming he was cursed, she would sell the story at least, probably try to have Arthur committed, plus any number of other nasty things. And what if she dragged Merlin into it?
Arthur resumes his uncomfortable seat. "So, this Gaius person, you really believe he didn't cause you any harm?"
"I doubt he could hurt a fly. Would most likely say it would throw out the balance of nature or some such."
Arthur nods, tells himself it couldn't hurt to just talk to him. "Do you have any idea where he is now?"
"No. But Gaius isn't a common name."
Arthur finds a listing for a Gaius Wilson who runs some sort of alternative medicine business online. He lives in Wales and doesn't have a PO box-honestly uses his own street address for the "business". At least that makes it less likely the guy is selling hard drugs, Arthur decides as he pulls up Streetview.
The place is hardly visible from the street, the overgrown front yard blocking most of it. What can be seen is in bad repair-uneven pavers leading to a front door that has so much paint peeling off, it's difficult to determine what colour it should be.
Arthur can come up with a dozen reasons to not go and see this man right now, but he's spent the last thirty minutes doing that, and now he's focusing, reminding himself of Merlin and Gwen, the people who would continue to suffer because Arthur didn't want to approach some old hippie.
Now that Arthur has let himself imagine a life without the curse, he can't stop thinking about it. Everything could be better. He wouldn't have to have sex with Merlin, which doesn't sound like a pro until he thinks about how they could be normal with each other. They could shake hands and slap each other on the back without having to strip down and fuck immediately after. And Arthur is certain that he could handle his feelings for Merlin if they could just stop being intimate.
And, well . . . Gwen. If Arthur didn't have the curse, he wouldn't have to pretend to stay late at the office. They would have more time together, and Arthur knows it wouldn't take long. A few of Gwen's beautiful smiles and he wouldn't be able to help himself. She's adorable, and he's a fool for forgetting to notice.
The odds of this man even being able to help them are next to none, so really, they have nothing to lose. So much to gain, though.
He goes to his office door, opens it before he changes his mind. "Merlin," he says, more testily than intended.
Merlin gives an annoyed sigh but stops what he was doing. He turns towards Arthur and waits for instruction.
"My office."
Merlin hauls himself up slowly, probably thinks Arthur's about to laden him with some impossible task.
Once they're safely out of hearing, Arthur starts. "I need you to book us flights to Cardiff, and accommodation, at least for one night with an option for more."
"Us?" asks Merlin.
"There's someone there we should talk to."
"Oh," Merlin says. It's surprisingly flat, but Arthur hasn't said anything to get Merlin's hopes up. "Okay. Um, when?"
"This weekend."
Merlin stares and then shakes his head. "Arthur, aren't you forgetting something? Your holiday? You and Gwen, sorting things out?"
"That will have to be postponed."
"Don't. We-this thing. It can wait."
"I don't think it should. Plus, the timing is good-great. If it turns out that this man can help us, then we have the freedom to not have to rush back for work." Merlin looks pained and Arthur can't handle any more guilt right now, so he snaps. "Just do as I asked, Merlin. I'll talk to Gwen."
Merlin looks as though he's been slapped, but he turns and leaves, and does exactly as Arthur asked.
That evening, Arthur lets himself into his apartment. He finds Gwen in front of the telly, already in her pyjamas, obviously waiting for him.
"Hi," she says with a smile. "There's some tea in the fridge. Should I heat it up?"
"No, thank you," Arthur says, sitting down next to her. "I have some bad news," he says, swallowing and preparing to start telling bald-faced lies.
"What's wrong?" Gwen asks, looks slightly alarmed.
"Nothing like that," he says, placing his hand on her forearm. "It's about this weekend. I have to-go away. For work."
Gwen visibly deflates and he hates that she already suspected he'd do this, but then she straightens and juts out her chin. "No. Whatever it is, it can wait."
"Gwen-"
"No, Arthur. I never complain, not about the late nights or . . . how busy you are. But this trip-" she pauses, takes a breath. "This is important."
"I know," he says, "And we will still do this. For us. But first, I need to take care of something."
She shakes her head and Arthur can feel the disappointment. She doesn't say anything for two breaths, then she sighs, lets out her frustration.
"Maybe we shouldn't bother."
"Gwen," he stops, takes hold of her hand, tries to instill his words with the genuine affection he feels. "I wouldn't go if I didn't need to," he says, and he means it. In Arthur's eyes, the timing really is perfect. There isn't much point trying to fix things with Gwen until he can stop being tied to Merlin. This way, if they're successful, he'll be able to start afresh and really try with Gwen.
Her nostrils flare and she wriggles her hand out of his. "Right. Well, I'm going to bed." She stands without looking his way and heads towards their bedroom, her feet softly padding down the hall. Arthur watches her with the same resigned apathy he has perfected over the years.
"I'm sorry," he says quietly to the empty room. It's not for upsetting her, or for not putting their marriage first. He's sorry that he can't make this any easier for Gwen, that he can't just tell her the truth.
He can't tell Gwen because she won't believe him, will think it's just some ridiculous excuse he's come up with so he can keep fucking Merlin. She'll think that, because curses don't exist. They're something from a different time, before science and rationalism and Charles Darwin.
He knows she won't believe because it took Arthur so long to accept it-and he saw firsthand the changes in Merlin. He stupidly thought Merlin had turned into some sort of nympho at first, the way he attacked Arthur as soon as they were together, how he was so eager. And then, shortly after, when Merlin went to visit his mother and they discovered the other effect of the curse.
He almost died. Arthur still feels sick when he thinks of Merlin, curled up in agony on his bed, telling Arthur, "I need it, I need it." Arthur thought Merlin had gone mad, had almost left him there to writhe in sickness, but then he'd-something. It was like he felt compelled to do it, to make himself hard and fuck Merlin even though Merlin looked like he was in withdrawal from crack. The memory still makes Arthur uncomfortable.
It makes Arthur uncomfortable that he did it again, made Merlin suffer just to see if the same thing would happen. Because Merlin had gotten better after sex, and that just didn't make sense. It had to have been a coincidence.
It makes Arthur uncomfortable that even after he accepted Merlin needed sex, he then insisted Merlin sleep with someone else, had practically demanded, just to make sure it wasn't only him. Arthur hadn't even realised how awful that was, had been too obsessed with figuring out what was going on. And then after that, Arthur had insisted they keep it to a bare minimum, only whatever Merlin needed to survive, because he was terrified of what Merlin had become, terrified of what he couldn't understand.
Arthur knows he made mistakes, but he didn't understand then-didn't believe. Over the years, he's learned there's nothing to be gained from dwelling on it, though, nothing but dredging up the shame and reliving it anew. So he blocks the memories out, then reasons to himself that he's saving Gwen from having to do the same.
Part 3