Fic: London, Said He (3/12)
Title: London, Said He
Rating: R
Genres: Science Fiction (Time Travel), Humour, Romance
Era: Mix of canon-era and near-future (22nd century) reincarnation era
Pairings: Merlin/Arthur, one-sided Gwaine/Merlin, implied Gwaine/Percy
Wordcount: 5000 (this chapter); 45k total
Betas: percygranger, messyangel81
This really hasn't been Merlin's day. Or week. Or month, really. Seeing his best friend die in front of him was bad enough. But magicking himself into the future in order to save Arthur? Probably not as good an idea as it seemed on paper. And this future version of Gwaine will not stop hitting on him. Even in front of the future Arthur - talk about embarrassing. Especially since Merlin needs to get to know this Arthur if he's ever going to figure out how to save his.
Chapter 1: Camelot
Chapter 2: Let's Do the Time Warp Again
Chapter 3: Gwaine
Working in a cafe was more difficult than Merlin had anticipated. On top of cleaning, baking, and attending to customers, there were these odd machines that spat out dark liquid, machines to fluff and heat milk (and wouldn't it be so much easier to simply get it straight from the cow, as opposed to preserving the milk and heating and fluffing it after the fact?), and, worst of all, there was the tablet.
The tablet was what Gwaine used to charge customers for their food. Instead of exchanging physical coin, the customers used tiny stiff rectangles about half the size of Merlin’s palm, which they slid through a white box that attached to said tablet, a rectangular device with a smooth embedded surface about the size of Merlin’s head. Gwaine then used his fingers on the black surface, which lit up with runes and images, asked the customer a few questions, and then handed back their stiff rectangle and the food they’d purchased.
After five or six customers, Gwaine turned to Merlin, handed him the tablet, and said, “Fancy a go?”
Merlin smiled at Gwaine to try to cover up the fact that he had no idea what that meant. Something about travelling in style, perhaps.
When a cheerful girl with shiny pink hair came in the shop, asking for a double shot caramel mack-something, Merlin tried to get the rectangle to slide through the box.
Gwaine glanced over and snorted. He took the rectangle from him, rotated it, and swiped it. “You have to turn it so the magnetic stripe’s facing this way.” Merlin had no idea what a magnetic stripe was, and he felt his face heat up. The pink-haired girl giggled.
Merlin started reading out all the runes on the screen. “First Name. Lauren. Last Name. Michaels. Card number. Five five six three, seven one-“
“Oh my God, Merlin, you don’t just read it all aloud. Go to the next screen.”
Merlin smushed his finger against the screen where there was a rectangle containing the word “NEXT.”
“Um,” said Merlin. “It didn’t do anything.”
“It’s waiting for the payment to go through, Merlin. That’s what the spinny icon means, yeah?”
“Should I press the rectangle again?”
“No!”
Two customers later, Gwaine grabbed the tablet back, shoved Merlin into the kitchen, and slammed the door.
The kitchen was about as mysterious to Merlin as using the tablet was. Unlike all the kitchens he had seen back home, this one was shiny and sterile and metallic.
The first thing Merlin noticed was a large silver basin mounted near the back of the room. It had a small hole in the bottom, a shiny metal spigot arching over it, and round knobs situated between it and the wall. The spigot, even though it was made of metal and not wood, reminded Merlin of the water pumps in Camelot. He shuffled over to determine its method of operation.
Merlin first attempted to twist the spigot like he would a normal pump, but it was fixed in place. He then tried twisting and tugging the first knob in various directions, to no avail, until he finally rotated it parallel to the floor, and cold water poured out of the spigot. He cautiously twisted the second knob, and the water started pouring out heated. “Fantastic,” Merlin said, and stuck both hands under the stream. It was marvellous.
Gwaine, of course, was bound to come looking for his erstwhile assistant at some point. When he saw Merlin just holding his hands under the stream of warm water, his mouth twisted down in a frown and his eyebrows scrunched in puzzlement. “Do I need to put up a sign that says, Employees must wash their hands, not soak them?”
Merlin could feel his face heating under Gwaine’s scrutiny, but he was reluctant to pull away. “It’s warm.”
Gwaine shot Merlin a Look. “Yes, that’s what the hot knob tends to do. You don’t just pile on the soap like you waste water, do you?”
Soap? Apparently Merlin’s confusion was showing on his face, because Gwaine stalked over to the basin and jabbed his finger into a white object mounted to the wall above, oval in shape and with a curved lip that Gwaine reached under, pushing with his thumb while his fingers curled upwards, palm up. The lip hinged, and a fluffy cloud of white squirted into Gwaine’s palm. He waved it under Merlin’s nose.
“Here is the soap. I sincerely hope you know how to use it.” He turned his head away before his brow scrunched and he glared at Merlin suspiciously from under his eyebrows. “Don’t use it all in one go. Ta.”
Gwaine waved his palm under the stream of water to rinse off the blob of foam, before turning the knob back so the water stopped flowing. He wiped his dripping hand on his apron and strode out the kitchen door. Merlin looked forlornly at the now silent spigot before following Gwaine back out.
“How do you manage it?” Gwaine asked, rubbing at the counter top with a rag after closing time. It was the end of Merlin’s first day as Gwaine’s assistant, and Merlin wasn’t so sure Gwaine was going to let him come back for a second.
Merlin didn’t look up from the rather stubborn sticky drips under the hazelnut flavouring. “Manage what?”
“You always look confused. You don’t even know the names of anything. Were you born under a rock?” Gwaine shook his head as he tossed his used rag into the bin next to Merlin.
“I told you before, I’ve never worked in a cafe.”
Merlin could practically hear Gwaine rolling his eyes. “There’s a difference between not knowing what the steamer or espresso machines are and asking about the Soya milk, Merlin.”
“Soya milk sounds horrid.”
“That it is, Merlin, but don’t let the customers hear you say so.”
To be honest, Merlin’s first day on the job had been something of a disaster so far, but Gwaine had been remarkably patient. After the soaking hands incident, Merlin had started reading through the espresso machine operator’s manual. Gwaine had suggested it to him, though in retrospect, it seemed more a method of revenge than a genuine suggestion. If Merlin had to read through the whole book, he might go blind. Just as he was daydreaming about creative ways to dispose of the manual (tearing it into bits and using it for coffee filters was his top vote thus far), Gwaine had shoved him in the kitchen with an armful of dirty glassware. When Gwaine had come in to check on him, Merlin had still been searching for towels. When he informed Gwaine of this, he had started guffawing and said, “How desperate were you to start looking in the freezer?”
Now they had finally shooed off the last diner, and were busy wiping down the tables and chairs. Merlin was rubbing at a particularly stubborn brown spot when the door tinkled to signal the arrival of a new customer.
“Evening, Kay,” Merlin heard Gwaine say, and as his head snapped up he observed that it was, indeed, the same Kay he knew, ratty clothing and faint smell of smoke included.
“Evening, Gwaine.” He grinned at Merlin, flashing his crooked yellow teeth. “How are you enjoying yourself so far, Merlin?”
Merlin blinked. “I’m… fine?”
Kay turned back to Gwaine. “I figured I’d come check on the two of you, see how things were going.”
Gwaine straightened, setting his rag down gently. “He’s one of yours, then?”
“Aye. Apologies for inflicting him on you - he’s not too familiar with city life.” Kay walked over to the counter, tugging on the sleeve of his overcoat. “Speaking of which…” He tilted his head to the side, and Gwaine let out a groan.
“Oh, no.” Gwaine shook his head. “I’m not taking him.”
Merlin abandoned all pretence of wiping down the table and leaned forward to catch the conversation. Apparently Kay gestured silently at Gwaine, because the man’s expression switched from grumpily indignant to resigned in an instant. “Really?” Gwaine said.
Kay leaned forward, closer to Gwaine, and Merlin contemplated sneaking over to the counter so he could see the old man’s expressions. He thought better of it when Gwaine caught his eye and frowned.
When Kay whirled around, he was grinning. “We’ve picked up another runaway, and I’ll be needing your blankets. Gwaine has kindly offered to let you stay with him for the time being.”
“What?” Gwaine sputtered. “I said no such thing!” His protests were cut off by an elbow to the ribs. He turned to glare at the perpetrator. “You absolute arse. If you weren’t seventy I swear I’d-“
Kay ignored him. “I’m sure you’ll get along like two peas in a pod,” he said, half to Gwaine and half to Merlin. “Ta!” He started whistling as he skipped his way to the exit.
Gwaine just laughed as the door shut behind Kay. “Old fart. Don’t know why I put up with him.” He turned to Merlin, raising an eyebrow and smirking. “It’s just as well you’re coming with me. I have a few questions need answered.”
Merlin groaned internally as he followed Gwaine out of the shop. Gwaine rummaged in the front pocket of his too-tight trousers for a black rectangle. He tapped on it with his fingers and Merlin heard the sound of the deadbolt lock sliding into place.
“You know,” said Gwaine, after he’d stuffed the strange rectangular key back in his pocket and turned to face Merlin, “I wasn’t actually planning on going home just yet.”
Merlin lifted an eyebrow. “Where were you going, then?”
“There’s a pub just down the road from here,” Gwaine said. “I don’t suppose you’d care to join me?”
Merlin shrugged. If he slept with Kay’s group, he wouldn’t be getting any blankets, so his choices were rather limited at the moment. Besides, whatever a pub was, spending more time with Gwaine would at least be entertaining. “It’s not like I have anything better to do.”
“That’s what I wanted to hear,” Gwaine said, throwing Merlin the third wink of the day. Not that he was counting. “It’s just over here. They have beer that’ll make you cry. Tears of joy, I’m telling you.”
The pub Gwaine had mentioned turned out to be a tavern, to Merlin’s amusement. They sat at a table tucked into a corner of the large room. Merlin settled into his chair, looking around. The inside of the establishment was rather noisy, with a cacophony of voices and instrumentation and an unpleasant thumping noise that varied in tempo every few minutes. He’d nearly jumped out of his skin as they entered, the door scissoring open as Gwaine approached without even touching it, then sealing back up into an apparently solid pane of glass.
Inside, everything was smooth and glossy and much brighter than the taverns Merlin was used to, and there were women here as well, sitting and drinking and talking in twos and threes. A few people sat on stools in front of the bar, hunched over clear glasses.
A young woman with her blonde hair pulled back in a ponytail stepped up to their table. “Hello, loves. Can I bring you anything?”
“Evening, Allie,” Gwaine said, with a customary wink and cheerful grin, “I’ll have the chocolate stout, and my friend here will have the house blonde.”
Merlin blinked at Gwaine once the tavern-worker had left their table. “What did you just order for me?”
Gwaine grinned, hair flopping into one eye, and he brushed it away with the back of his hand. “Excalibur Blonde Ale. It’s one of the standards here.” He tapped the inside of his wrist and overlapping pink and blue triangles bloomed to life under his fingertips.
“What is that?” Merlin asked, gaping.
“I don’t like to advertise my sexuality when I’m at work,” Gwaine said, grinning at Merlin’s bewildered expression.
“Your sexuality?”
Gwaine narrowed his eyes. “Seriously, how do you not know these things?” He pointed towards the triangles. “This is the symbol for bisexuality. Did you grow up in some crazy cult that never let you go outside? Raised by wolves? It would explain a few things.”
“What?” Merlin forced his gaze away from the triangles on Gwaine’s arm. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Gwaine leaned forward in his chair, eyes locked with Merlin’s. “Tell me you’ve drunk alcohol before.”
Merlin snorted. “I’ve drunk ale and mead plenty of times, yes.”
“Thank God for that,” Gwaine said, relaxing back into his seat.
When the woman returned, with a deep brown ale for Gwaine and a light golden ale for Merlin, he took it hesitantly and tried a sip. He stuck his tongue out. “What is this, water? I can hardly taste it.”
Gwaine’s head jerked back and his eyes widened slightly in surprise, before he burst out laughing. “Mate, if I’d known you liked your beer hoppy, I’d’ve ordered differently.” He grinned and pushed his glass towards Merlin.
Merlin sniffed at the offering before taking a cautious sip. This drink had a rich, bitter tang, almost burnt-tasting, with a strong aftertaste reminiscent of the ale he normally drank back home. He smiled and nodded his approval and Gwaine ruefully snagged Merlin’s glass of watered-down ale and started in on that.
“So,” Gwaine asked, after sipping at Merlin’s ale and wincing, “you’re Kay’s nephew, I take it?”
“What?” Merlin babbled, nearly snorting a mouthful of ale.
Gwaine’s eyes darted to meet Merlin’s gaze, a single eyebrow raised. “He told me his nephew would be - are you not him?”
Merlin blinked. What had Kay told him? “What did he say?”
Gwaine smirked. “Afraid he’s told me embarrassing stories of you in your nappies?”
“No?” Merlin fought the blush he could feel rising to his cheeks. “Um, I don’t really know him.”
“He just said that you were new in town and needed a place to stay.”
Merlin shrugged. “Pretty much.”
“You weren’t close, then? Growing up?”
“No.” Merlin took another swig of ale.
“Fair enough,” Gwaine said. He frowned into his glass. “I was hoping you had some horror stories. For blackmail purposes, obviously.” Gwaine wasn’t looking at him any longer, simply smoothing a finger over the whorls of wood grain in the table top.
“He has an obsession with hot dogs,” Merlin blurted out.
Gwaine snorted, his eyes crinkling up in mirth. “What man doesn’t?” Taking another swig of ale, he gritted his teeth in a grimace as he swallowed. “So where are you from, Merlin?”
Merlin blinked. “Ealdor?”
Gwaine lifted an eyebrow. “Ealdor? Haven’t heard of that. Is it a small town, then?”
“Erm, yes. Very small.”
“How close to London?”
“It’s. You know. Far.”
“Far.” Gwaine smirked at Merlin. “Your way with words is astounding.”
Merlin swallowed. He was unfortunately familiar with that expression. The smirk and the waggling of eyebrows on the old Gwaine - his Gwaine - meant that Merlin had been caught out doing something stupid.
“So what brings you here from such a faraway land?”
Merlin bit his lip. How much could he tell Gwaine? How much could he say without sounding mad?
“Oh, come on,” Gwaine said, smacking Merlin’s upper arm gently with the back of his hand. “Your secrets are safe with me.”
“I’m looking for someone, actually.”
“Yeah?” Gwaine’s smile grew wider, if that was even possible. “And who would that be?”
“A friend.”
“Just a friend?” Gwaine raised an eyebrow. “I don’t know what your wolf mother taught you, but did you really come all the way from distant Ealdor for a friend?”
“Yes, as it so happens,” Merlin replied, a bit testy.
Gwaine leered. “Is she pretty?”
“He’s not… He’s fine looking! Not that it matters.” Merlin ran a hand through his hair, trying to bite back his frustration. “His name is Arthur.”
Gwaine grinned. “I know an Arthur. Bad news, Arthurs are. You should stay away from them.”
“Right, because Gwaines are much more trustworthy?”
“Smart lad.” Gwaine tilted his head back to drain the last drops of his glass of ale.
Merlin looked down at the pint in his hands to find it was almost gone as well. No wonder he was feeling a tad light-headed.
“Well, wolf boy,” Gwaine said, waggling his eyebrows, “shall we order you another? Or is one drink too much for your delicate constitution?”
Merlin glared. “I’m not delicate.”
“Of course not,” Gwaine said, smirk firmly back in place. He lifted a hand in the air, his fingers wiggling. “Fair bar maiden! A second round!”
The woman who had brought their ales earlier smacked him upside the head as she passed by the table. “Shut it, Gwaine!”
“I can see you smiling, Allie,” Gwaine called as she walked away. “Don’t lie.”
Merlin slouched lower in his seat.
Gwaine giggled as Merlin sipped at his fourth pint of ale. The room was pleasantly weaving in and out. Merlin was almost able to ignore the fact that everything felt wrong. Gwaine had gotten progressively more handsy as the night went on. Right now, he was pressed up next to Merlin, his arm thrown over Merlin’s shoulder, his thigh bleeding warmth through Merlin’s breeches. Merlin thought it was all rather comfortable, if a bit sweaty.
“You’re too warm,” he said.
“I’m hot,” Gwaine corrected.
“Yes. That.”
Gwaine giggled again. Merlin turned back to his drink, but apparently Gwaine was saying something, because he nudged Merlin with his elbow, causing a bit of his drink to slosh out of the side of his glass.
“Hmmm?” Merlin asked, smiling blearily at Gwaine. This was terribly good ale.
“I said, do you want to come back to mine?” Gwaine was staring at Merlin’s lips, for some reason. Perhaps he had ale on his mouth. Merlin wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, and Gwaine’s gaze shifted back up to meet Merlin’s eyes.
“Come back to yours? Your what?”
Gwaine looked amused at this. “My flat.”
Merlin bit his lip. He wished he knew what a flat was. Some sort of pallet? Perhaps his bed? “Where is it?”
“It’s a ten minute ride by taxi.”
Merlin frowned. That was terribly unspecific. What was a tacksee? Some sort of horse? More likely, it was one of those awful travelling boxes. Merlin shuddered at the thought of actually getting inside one.
Gwaine, seeing Merlin’s disgruntled expression, waved his hand about. “I’ll pay, if that’s what you’re worried about. Unless, of course, you don’t want to wait that long.” He glanced over at Merlin, who was now tapping his foot against the ground. “Nervous?”
“What? No!” Merlin stilled his foot and glared at Gwaine.
“Great,” Gwaine said, grinning. “I’ll just hail a cab, then.”
“Ackab?” Merlin asked, brow furrowing. This was the first he’d heard of Ackab. Perhaps it was the name of Gwaine’s tacksee.
Gwaine glanced over at Merlin, sidelong. “You don’t know what a taxi is, do you?”
Merlin gaped. “Don’t be ridiculous!”
“You might want to be careful what you say, wolf boy,” Gwaine said, struggling to his feet and digging into his pocket for the black box he’d used to lock up the cafe. “Someone might take advantage of your weakened state.”
Merlin’s blush, which had been creeping up and down his neck all day, rose all the way to his ears now. “I’m not in a weakened state, you ass.”
“Of course you aren’t,” Gwaine said, his smile softer now. He tapped at the surface of the black rectangle, waving once at the man behind the bar before tucking it back in his pocket and turning to the exit. “Come on, this way.”
Merlin was silent as he followed Gwaine to the tacksee. He was not sure what he had been expecting - back home, he might have expected stables - but they paused at the side of a broad thoroughfare and Gwaine simply stuck out his hand in a salute. A black metal box on leather wheels, like those that Merlin had seen earlier, stopped in front of them.
Gwaine ushered Merlin into the interior of the tacksee and assisted him with securing some sort of cloth restraint that stretched across his chest before shutting the door and fastening his own. He mumbled at the man seated in front, “21 Marylebone, please,” before turning back to Merlin and grinning.
Merlin just sighed and purposefully turned his head away from Gwaine, to look out of the window.
Gwaine was mercifully silent for the duration of their time spent strapped into the strange bench inside of the tacksee. Merlin spent the time watching the buildings and people whoosh past, colours blending together and making him a bit dizzy.
When the box came to a stop, Gwaine unharnessed Merlin, shooed him out of the side exit, and handed the man in the front of the box a thin blue rectangle.
Merlin shivered as he stood on the pathway next to Gwaine. The black box sped off into the darkness and Gwaine made a strange gesture towards the towering building in front of him.
“My flat’s on the first floor,” Gwaine said, as if that explained everything. Merlin simply followed him mutely. He hoped Kay was right about this, and that Gwaine was not simply going to knock him out and rifle through his clothing for valuables as soon as he got him alone. Or tackle him to the ground and rob him of his virtue. That seemed a much more likely course of action.
The two men strode up a stairway to a large wooden door, with a bright, steady lantern hanging from the ceiling above. Gwaine retrieved another thin rectangle, this one white, and swiped it through a slot next to the door. A green light flashed and the door clicked open. Gwaine pushed through and beckoned for Merlin to follow.
They stepped down a darkened corridor, with dark red matted fur on the floors and a floral pattern on the walls reminiscent of the embroidery on Morgana’s gowns. They stopped in front of a different door, which made a clicking noise as Gwaine approached, and the door retracted into the wall, revealing Gwaine’s private quarters.
As soon as Merlin stepped through the door, Gwaine’s hands were sliding around his shoulders and his face came dangerously close to Merlin’s. Gwaine blew a hot breath over Merlin’s neck and whispered in his ear. “You have no idea how sexy you are, do you?”
Merlin did what he’d been trained to do in his years of experience with Gwaine’s drunken groping attempts, and elbowed him in the solar plexus.
“Sorry!” Merlin squawked, as Gwaine doubled over, gasping for breath. “You caught me off guard!”
Gwaine was now wheezing, tears streaming from his eyes.
Merlin hurried to grab Gwaine and herded him over to the middle of the room, where a plush stuffed brown chair and a light blue, equally fluffy bench sat in front of a low table. Once Gwaine was sat in the chair, Merlin wrung his hands in front of him as he caught his breath. “Do you need water? Or something?”
Gwaine choked out a laugh. “That was… not… exactly… what I… was expecting,” he managed between wheezes. “Bloody hell, you pack a punch.”
“That wasn’t a punch, exactly…”
“Elbow, then!”
Merlin’s eyes darted around the room. The walls were white and smooth on first look, but with a slight raised texture on closer inspection. There were pictures on the walls, not paintings - too smooth - but containing odd art subjects. Some actually looked like windows to the outside world, except the images they captured couldn’t possibly be from a window. In one, a woman was frozen mid-jump, hair streaming through the air and limbs outspread. Merlin had to tear his gaze from the image and look back at Gwaine, who was now breathing normally but inspecting Merlin closely, apprehension furrowing his brow. Merlin retreated back to the doorway, Gwaine’s eyes tracking him as he walked.
“Look,” Merlin said after a tense silence, “I’m sorry I elbowed you. Really. But I was not actually looking for… ah…”
“A good time?”
Merlin smiled down at Gwaine fondly. “Bloody hell, Gwaine. You’re just as bad as I remember.”
Gwaine narrowed his eyes at Merlin. “What’s that supposed to mean, mister we-haven’t-actually-met?”
Merlin felt a flush working its way up his neck, and he grimaced. “It’s complicated.”
Gwaine huffed. “Okay, okay. So. No funny business. You don’t put out on the first date, I get it. But you’ve been driving me mad all day. You’ve been staring at me just as much as I’ve been looking at you! And what was all that, at the bar?”
Merlin bit his lip. “It’s not for the reason you’re thinking.”
Gwaine stared for a moment before sighing. “I’ve been trying to ignore it, but there’s something seriously wrong with you, mate.”
Merlin hesitated, still hovering awkwardly in the doorway. As much as he should be terrified right now, he somehow felt safe. Besides, this was Gwaine. It could not be mere coincidence that his magic had brought him here, where everything was strange except this man.
“Sit,” Gwaine said, gesturing at the blue cloth-covered bench.
Merlin eyed the bench warily. How much should he tell Gwaine? How much could he?
Gwaine sighed, interrupting Merlin’s train of thought. “Merlin?”
“Yes?”
“What’s the deal?”
Merlin let out a huff of air, ruffling his bangs, before running his tongue nervously over his front teeth. “I’m not… from here. I don’t know this place.”
Gwaine snorted. “I could tell that much.”
“Oi!” Merlin said, frowning. “I’m trying to say something here.”
Gwaine raised an eyebrow as Merlin simply grimaced in response, running his hands through his hair.
“So,” Merlin said, “the important thing, I suppose, is that I have magic.”
“Magic.” Gwaine said it flatly, disbelieving. “You pull rabbits out of hats?”
“Rabbits? What? No,” Merlin said. He ran one hand through his hair. “I brought myself here, somehow, to this place. Using magic. It’s- I don’t belong here. I’m from Camelot.”
Gwaine snorted. “Let me guess, you’re here to save King Arthur from some dastardly fate.”
“What?” Merlin could feel his jaw drop. “How did you know that?”
“You should get some sleep,” Gwaine said, dodging Merlin’s question. “I think we’re both a bit pissed, yeah?”
“You don’t believe me.”
Merlin watched as Gwaine rose from the chair and disappeared down a hallway. He came back a few moments later with an armful of bedding, which he flung at Merlin’s head.
“Here,” Gwaine said, as Merlin attempted to disentangle himself from the blankets, “you can sleep on the sofa tonight, and we’ll figure it out tomorrow morning.”
Merlin blinked, surprised. “You’re going to let me stay here?”
Gwaine shrugged, his cheeks turning a faint pink. “Sure. As long as you promise not to kill me in my sleep.” He grinned lopsidedly, tilting his head at Merlin. “In all seriousness - Kay’s a friend of mine, so if he trusts you, then I trust you.” And with that he stomped back to the hallway and disappeared.
Merlin clutched the bedding to his chest. Tomorrow he would explain, make Gwaine believe him. He’d find a way to make it sound… if not reasonable, exactly, then at least less mad.
Maybe this was why his magic had put him here. If he’d found Gwaine, then maybe he could find Arthur. And if he could find Arthur, maybe he could save him.
For the first time since Arthur’s death, he let himself feel hope. He curled deeper into the bench, a smile on his face, and drifted towards sleep.
Merlin woke to darkness, panting, limbs tangled in his blankets, as the last vestiges of his nightmare slipped out of his reach. He lay in the darkness for a few moments, staring up at the plain white ceiling, before pushing off the blankets, sliding off of the sofa, and stretching.
Merlin needed to find Arthur. He needed... clean clothes. He bent his head down to sniff at the rank fabric next to his collarbone, still damp with sweat from his dreams. Disgusting. At this rate, even a thorough washing wouldn’t get the smell out. Perhaps it would be better to get different clothes entirely.
He also needed to find out how money worked here. Gwaine had mentioned the words “credit card,” but Merlin had no idea what that was. While he had been in the cafe, he had never seen the customers deal with physical coins. Most of them had used the rectangular card in the tablet. Others had handed Gwaine strips of parchment, which he’d stuffed into a drawer. A few of them hadn’t seemed to pay at all; merely given their order and walked away, and Gwaine had done something to the tablet when they left.
Then there was the matter of the black square that Gwaine kept pulling out of his pocket. What was its purpose? He’d apparently used it to lock the cafe, but he’d also pulled it out at the bar simply to gaze at it. But there had been a different object to enter the building where he lived, and the door to his home had disappeared into the wall merely by Gwaine’s presence - if that was not magic, then how was he opening the doors? Were there no physical keys in this place? Would Merlin be trapped if he tried to venture outside without a black box of his own?
Merlin went back to the sofa, tossing and turning restlessly, but after what seemed like an eternity, he gave up, and checked the window by the entryway. It was early, yes, but not that early, if the position of the nearly-full moon just above the horizon was any indication. He took a deep breath, walked over to Gwaine’s bedroom door, and knocked.
Chapter 4: Getting to Know You
Rating: R
Genres: Science Fiction (Time Travel), Humour, Romance
Era: Mix of canon-era and near-future (22nd century) reincarnation era
Pairings: Merlin/Arthur, one-sided Gwaine/Merlin, implied Gwaine/Percy
Wordcount: 5000 (this chapter); 45k total
Betas: percygranger, messyangel81
This really hasn't been Merlin's day. Or week. Or month, really. Seeing his best friend die in front of him was bad enough. But magicking himself into the future in order to save Arthur? Probably not as good an idea as it seemed on paper. And this future version of Gwaine will not stop hitting on him. Even in front of the future Arthur - talk about embarrassing. Especially since Merlin needs to get to know this Arthur if he's ever going to figure out how to save his.
Chapter 1: Camelot
Chapter 2: Let's Do the Time Warp Again
Chapter 3: Gwaine
Working in a cafe was more difficult than Merlin had anticipated. On top of cleaning, baking, and attending to customers, there were these odd machines that spat out dark liquid, machines to fluff and heat milk (and wouldn't it be so much easier to simply get it straight from the cow, as opposed to preserving the milk and heating and fluffing it after the fact?), and, worst of all, there was the tablet.
The tablet was what Gwaine used to charge customers for their food. Instead of exchanging physical coin, the customers used tiny stiff rectangles about half the size of Merlin’s palm, which they slid through a white box that attached to said tablet, a rectangular device with a smooth embedded surface about the size of Merlin’s head. Gwaine then used his fingers on the black surface, which lit up with runes and images, asked the customer a few questions, and then handed back their stiff rectangle and the food they’d purchased.
After five or six customers, Gwaine turned to Merlin, handed him the tablet, and said, “Fancy a go?”
Merlin smiled at Gwaine to try to cover up the fact that he had no idea what that meant. Something about travelling in style, perhaps.
When a cheerful girl with shiny pink hair came in the shop, asking for a double shot caramel mack-something, Merlin tried to get the rectangle to slide through the box.
Gwaine glanced over and snorted. He took the rectangle from him, rotated it, and swiped it. “You have to turn it so the magnetic stripe’s facing this way.” Merlin had no idea what a magnetic stripe was, and he felt his face heat up. The pink-haired girl giggled.
Merlin started reading out all the runes on the screen. “First Name. Lauren. Last Name. Michaels. Card number. Five five six three, seven one-“
“Oh my God, Merlin, you don’t just read it all aloud. Go to the next screen.”
Merlin smushed his finger against the screen where there was a rectangle containing the word “NEXT.”
“Um,” said Merlin. “It didn’t do anything.”
“It’s waiting for the payment to go through, Merlin. That’s what the spinny icon means, yeah?”
“Should I press the rectangle again?”
“No!”
Two customers later, Gwaine grabbed the tablet back, shoved Merlin into the kitchen, and slammed the door.
The kitchen was about as mysterious to Merlin as using the tablet was. Unlike all the kitchens he had seen back home, this one was shiny and sterile and metallic.
The first thing Merlin noticed was a large silver basin mounted near the back of the room. It had a small hole in the bottom, a shiny metal spigot arching over it, and round knobs situated between it and the wall. The spigot, even though it was made of metal and not wood, reminded Merlin of the water pumps in Camelot. He shuffled over to determine its method of operation.
Merlin first attempted to twist the spigot like he would a normal pump, but it was fixed in place. He then tried twisting and tugging the first knob in various directions, to no avail, until he finally rotated it parallel to the floor, and cold water poured out of the spigot. He cautiously twisted the second knob, and the water started pouring out heated. “Fantastic,” Merlin said, and stuck both hands under the stream. It was marvellous.
Gwaine, of course, was bound to come looking for his erstwhile assistant at some point. When he saw Merlin just holding his hands under the stream of warm water, his mouth twisted down in a frown and his eyebrows scrunched in puzzlement. “Do I need to put up a sign that says, Employees must wash their hands, not soak them?”
Merlin could feel his face heating under Gwaine’s scrutiny, but he was reluctant to pull away. “It’s warm.”
Gwaine shot Merlin a Look. “Yes, that’s what the hot knob tends to do. You don’t just pile on the soap like you waste water, do you?”
Soap? Apparently Merlin’s confusion was showing on his face, because Gwaine stalked over to the basin and jabbed his finger into a white object mounted to the wall above, oval in shape and with a curved lip that Gwaine reached under, pushing with his thumb while his fingers curled upwards, palm up. The lip hinged, and a fluffy cloud of white squirted into Gwaine’s palm. He waved it under Merlin’s nose.
“Here is the soap. I sincerely hope you know how to use it.” He turned his head away before his brow scrunched and he glared at Merlin suspiciously from under his eyebrows. “Don’t use it all in one go. Ta.”
Gwaine waved his palm under the stream of water to rinse off the blob of foam, before turning the knob back so the water stopped flowing. He wiped his dripping hand on his apron and strode out the kitchen door. Merlin looked forlornly at the now silent spigot before following Gwaine back out.
“How do you manage it?” Gwaine asked, rubbing at the counter top with a rag after closing time. It was the end of Merlin’s first day as Gwaine’s assistant, and Merlin wasn’t so sure Gwaine was going to let him come back for a second.
Merlin didn’t look up from the rather stubborn sticky drips under the hazelnut flavouring. “Manage what?”
“You always look confused. You don’t even know the names of anything. Were you born under a rock?” Gwaine shook his head as he tossed his used rag into the bin next to Merlin.
“I told you before, I’ve never worked in a cafe.”
Merlin could practically hear Gwaine rolling his eyes. “There’s a difference between not knowing what the steamer or espresso machines are and asking about the Soya milk, Merlin.”
“Soya milk sounds horrid.”
“That it is, Merlin, but don’t let the customers hear you say so.”
To be honest, Merlin’s first day on the job had been something of a disaster so far, but Gwaine had been remarkably patient. After the soaking hands incident, Merlin had started reading through the espresso machine operator’s manual. Gwaine had suggested it to him, though in retrospect, it seemed more a method of revenge than a genuine suggestion. If Merlin had to read through the whole book, he might go blind. Just as he was daydreaming about creative ways to dispose of the manual (tearing it into bits and using it for coffee filters was his top vote thus far), Gwaine had shoved him in the kitchen with an armful of dirty glassware. When Gwaine had come in to check on him, Merlin had still been searching for towels. When he informed Gwaine of this, he had started guffawing and said, “How desperate were you to start looking in the freezer?”
Now they had finally shooed off the last diner, and were busy wiping down the tables and chairs. Merlin was rubbing at a particularly stubborn brown spot when the door tinkled to signal the arrival of a new customer.
“Evening, Kay,” Merlin heard Gwaine say, and as his head snapped up he observed that it was, indeed, the same Kay he knew, ratty clothing and faint smell of smoke included.
“Evening, Gwaine.” He grinned at Merlin, flashing his crooked yellow teeth. “How are you enjoying yourself so far, Merlin?”
Merlin blinked. “I’m… fine?”
Kay turned back to Gwaine. “I figured I’d come check on the two of you, see how things were going.”
Gwaine straightened, setting his rag down gently. “He’s one of yours, then?”
“Aye. Apologies for inflicting him on you - he’s not too familiar with city life.” Kay walked over to the counter, tugging on the sleeve of his overcoat. “Speaking of which…” He tilted his head to the side, and Gwaine let out a groan.
“Oh, no.” Gwaine shook his head. “I’m not taking him.”
Merlin abandoned all pretence of wiping down the table and leaned forward to catch the conversation. Apparently Kay gestured silently at Gwaine, because the man’s expression switched from grumpily indignant to resigned in an instant. “Really?” Gwaine said.
Kay leaned forward, closer to Gwaine, and Merlin contemplated sneaking over to the counter so he could see the old man’s expressions. He thought better of it when Gwaine caught his eye and frowned.
When Kay whirled around, he was grinning. “We’ve picked up another runaway, and I’ll be needing your blankets. Gwaine has kindly offered to let you stay with him for the time being.”
“What?” Gwaine sputtered. “I said no such thing!” His protests were cut off by an elbow to the ribs. He turned to glare at the perpetrator. “You absolute arse. If you weren’t seventy I swear I’d-“
Kay ignored him. “I’m sure you’ll get along like two peas in a pod,” he said, half to Gwaine and half to Merlin. “Ta!” He started whistling as he skipped his way to the exit.
Gwaine just laughed as the door shut behind Kay. “Old fart. Don’t know why I put up with him.” He turned to Merlin, raising an eyebrow and smirking. “It’s just as well you’re coming with me. I have a few questions need answered.”
Merlin groaned internally as he followed Gwaine out of the shop. Gwaine rummaged in the front pocket of his too-tight trousers for a black rectangle. He tapped on it with his fingers and Merlin heard the sound of the deadbolt lock sliding into place.
“You know,” said Gwaine, after he’d stuffed the strange rectangular key back in his pocket and turned to face Merlin, “I wasn’t actually planning on going home just yet.”
Merlin lifted an eyebrow. “Where were you going, then?”
“There’s a pub just down the road from here,” Gwaine said. “I don’t suppose you’d care to join me?”
Merlin shrugged. If he slept with Kay’s group, he wouldn’t be getting any blankets, so his choices were rather limited at the moment. Besides, whatever a pub was, spending more time with Gwaine would at least be entertaining. “It’s not like I have anything better to do.”
“That’s what I wanted to hear,” Gwaine said, throwing Merlin the third wink of the day. Not that he was counting. “It’s just over here. They have beer that’ll make you cry. Tears of joy, I’m telling you.”
The pub Gwaine had mentioned turned out to be a tavern, to Merlin’s amusement. They sat at a table tucked into a corner of the large room. Merlin settled into his chair, looking around. The inside of the establishment was rather noisy, with a cacophony of voices and instrumentation and an unpleasant thumping noise that varied in tempo every few minutes. He’d nearly jumped out of his skin as they entered, the door scissoring open as Gwaine approached without even touching it, then sealing back up into an apparently solid pane of glass.
Inside, everything was smooth and glossy and much brighter than the taverns Merlin was used to, and there were women here as well, sitting and drinking and talking in twos and threes. A few people sat on stools in front of the bar, hunched over clear glasses.
A young woman with her blonde hair pulled back in a ponytail stepped up to their table. “Hello, loves. Can I bring you anything?”
“Evening, Allie,” Gwaine said, with a customary wink and cheerful grin, “I’ll have the chocolate stout, and my friend here will have the house blonde.”
Merlin blinked at Gwaine once the tavern-worker had left their table. “What did you just order for me?”
Gwaine grinned, hair flopping into one eye, and he brushed it away with the back of his hand. “Excalibur Blonde Ale. It’s one of the standards here.” He tapped the inside of his wrist and overlapping pink and blue triangles bloomed to life under his fingertips.
“What is that?” Merlin asked, gaping.
“I don’t like to advertise my sexuality when I’m at work,” Gwaine said, grinning at Merlin’s bewildered expression.
“Your sexuality?”
Gwaine narrowed his eyes. “Seriously, how do you not know these things?” He pointed towards the triangles. “This is the symbol for bisexuality. Did you grow up in some crazy cult that never let you go outside? Raised by wolves? It would explain a few things.”
“What?” Merlin forced his gaze away from the triangles on Gwaine’s arm. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Gwaine leaned forward in his chair, eyes locked with Merlin’s. “Tell me you’ve drunk alcohol before.”
Merlin snorted. “I’ve drunk ale and mead plenty of times, yes.”
“Thank God for that,” Gwaine said, relaxing back into his seat.
When the woman returned, with a deep brown ale for Gwaine and a light golden ale for Merlin, he took it hesitantly and tried a sip. He stuck his tongue out. “What is this, water? I can hardly taste it.”
Gwaine’s head jerked back and his eyes widened slightly in surprise, before he burst out laughing. “Mate, if I’d known you liked your beer hoppy, I’d’ve ordered differently.” He grinned and pushed his glass towards Merlin.
Merlin sniffed at the offering before taking a cautious sip. This drink had a rich, bitter tang, almost burnt-tasting, with a strong aftertaste reminiscent of the ale he normally drank back home. He smiled and nodded his approval and Gwaine ruefully snagged Merlin’s glass of watered-down ale and started in on that.
“So,” Gwaine asked, after sipping at Merlin’s ale and wincing, “you’re Kay’s nephew, I take it?”
“What?” Merlin babbled, nearly snorting a mouthful of ale.
Gwaine’s eyes darted to meet Merlin’s gaze, a single eyebrow raised. “He told me his nephew would be - are you not him?”
Merlin blinked. What had Kay told him? “What did he say?”
Gwaine smirked. “Afraid he’s told me embarrassing stories of you in your nappies?”
“No?” Merlin fought the blush he could feel rising to his cheeks. “Um, I don’t really know him.”
“He just said that you were new in town and needed a place to stay.”
Merlin shrugged. “Pretty much.”
“You weren’t close, then? Growing up?”
“No.” Merlin took another swig of ale.
“Fair enough,” Gwaine said. He frowned into his glass. “I was hoping you had some horror stories. For blackmail purposes, obviously.” Gwaine wasn’t looking at him any longer, simply smoothing a finger over the whorls of wood grain in the table top.
“He has an obsession with hot dogs,” Merlin blurted out.
Gwaine snorted, his eyes crinkling up in mirth. “What man doesn’t?” Taking another swig of ale, he gritted his teeth in a grimace as he swallowed. “So where are you from, Merlin?”
Merlin blinked. “Ealdor?”
Gwaine lifted an eyebrow. “Ealdor? Haven’t heard of that. Is it a small town, then?”
“Erm, yes. Very small.”
“How close to London?”
“It’s. You know. Far.”
“Far.” Gwaine smirked at Merlin. “Your way with words is astounding.”
Merlin swallowed. He was unfortunately familiar with that expression. The smirk and the waggling of eyebrows on the old Gwaine - his Gwaine - meant that Merlin had been caught out doing something stupid.
“So what brings you here from such a faraway land?”
Merlin bit his lip. How much could he tell Gwaine? How much could he say without sounding mad?
“Oh, come on,” Gwaine said, smacking Merlin’s upper arm gently with the back of his hand. “Your secrets are safe with me.”
“I’m looking for someone, actually.”
“Yeah?” Gwaine’s smile grew wider, if that was even possible. “And who would that be?”
“A friend.”
“Just a friend?” Gwaine raised an eyebrow. “I don’t know what your wolf mother taught you, but did you really come all the way from distant Ealdor for a friend?”
“Yes, as it so happens,” Merlin replied, a bit testy.
Gwaine leered. “Is she pretty?”
“He’s not… He’s fine looking! Not that it matters.” Merlin ran a hand through his hair, trying to bite back his frustration. “His name is Arthur.”
Gwaine grinned. “I know an Arthur. Bad news, Arthurs are. You should stay away from them.”
“Right, because Gwaines are much more trustworthy?”
“Smart lad.” Gwaine tilted his head back to drain the last drops of his glass of ale.
Merlin looked down at the pint in his hands to find it was almost gone as well. No wonder he was feeling a tad light-headed.
“Well, wolf boy,” Gwaine said, waggling his eyebrows, “shall we order you another? Or is one drink too much for your delicate constitution?”
Merlin glared. “I’m not delicate.”
“Of course not,” Gwaine said, smirk firmly back in place. He lifted a hand in the air, his fingers wiggling. “Fair bar maiden! A second round!”
The woman who had brought their ales earlier smacked him upside the head as she passed by the table. “Shut it, Gwaine!”
“I can see you smiling, Allie,” Gwaine called as she walked away. “Don’t lie.”
Merlin slouched lower in his seat.
Gwaine giggled as Merlin sipped at his fourth pint of ale. The room was pleasantly weaving in and out. Merlin was almost able to ignore the fact that everything felt wrong. Gwaine had gotten progressively more handsy as the night went on. Right now, he was pressed up next to Merlin, his arm thrown over Merlin’s shoulder, his thigh bleeding warmth through Merlin’s breeches. Merlin thought it was all rather comfortable, if a bit sweaty.
“You’re too warm,” he said.
“I’m hot,” Gwaine corrected.
“Yes. That.”
Gwaine giggled again. Merlin turned back to his drink, but apparently Gwaine was saying something, because he nudged Merlin with his elbow, causing a bit of his drink to slosh out of the side of his glass.
“Hmmm?” Merlin asked, smiling blearily at Gwaine. This was terribly good ale.
“I said, do you want to come back to mine?” Gwaine was staring at Merlin’s lips, for some reason. Perhaps he had ale on his mouth. Merlin wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, and Gwaine’s gaze shifted back up to meet Merlin’s eyes.
“Come back to yours? Your what?”
Gwaine looked amused at this. “My flat.”
Merlin bit his lip. He wished he knew what a flat was. Some sort of pallet? Perhaps his bed? “Where is it?”
“It’s a ten minute ride by taxi.”
Merlin frowned. That was terribly unspecific. What was a tacksee? Some sort of horse? More likely, it was one of those awful travelling boxes. Merlin shuddered at the thought of actually getting inside one.
Gwaine, seeing Merlin’s disgruntled expression, waved his hand about. “I’ll pay, if that’s what you’re worried about. Unless, of course, you don’t want to wait that long.” He glanced over at Merlin, who was now tapping his foot against the ground. “Nervous?”
“What? No!” Merlin stilled his foot and glared at Gwaine.
“Great,” Gwaine said, grinning. “I’ll just hail a cab, then.”
“Ackab?” Merlin asked, brow furrowing. This was the first he’d heard of Ackab. Perhaps it was the name of Gwaine’s tacksee.
Gwaine glanced over at Merlin, sidelong. “You don’t know what a taxi is, do you?”
Merlin gaped. “Don’t be ridiculous!”
“You might want to be careful what you say, wolf boy,” Gwaine said, struggling to his feet and digging into his pocket for the black box he’d used to lock up the cafe. “Someone might take advantage of your weakened state.”
Merlin’s blush, which had been creeping up and down his neck all day, rose all the way to his ears now. “I’m not in a weakened state, you ass.”
“Of course you aren’t,” Gwaine said, his smile softer now. He tapped at the surface of the black rectangle, waving once at the man behind the bar before tucking it back in his pocket and turning to the exit. “Come on, this way.”
Merlin was silent as he followed Gwaine to the tacksee. He was not sure what he had been expecting - back home, he might have expected stables - but they paused at the side of a broad thoroughfare and Gwaine simply stuck out his hand in a salute. A black metal box on leather wheels, like those that Merlin had seen earlier, stopped in front of them.
Gwaine ushered Merlin into the interior of the tacksee and assisted him with securing some sort of cloth restraint that stretched across his chest before shutting the door and fastening his own. He mumbled at the man seated in front, “21 Marylebone, please,” before turning back to Merlin and grinning.
Merlin just sighed and purposefully turned his head away from Gwaine, to look out of the window.
Gwaine was mercifully silent for the duration of their time spent strapped into the strange bench inside of the tacksee. Merlin spent the time watching the buildings and people whoosh past, colours blending together and making him a bit dizzy.
When the box came to a stop, Gwaine unharnessed Merlin, shooed him out of the side exit, and handed the man in the front of the box a thin blue rectangle.
Merlin shivered as he stood on the pathway next to Gwaine. The black box sped off into the darkness and Gwaine made a strange gesture towards the towering building in front of him.
“My flat’s on the first floor,” Gwaine said, as if that explained everything. Merlin simply followed him mutely. He hoped Kay was right about this, and that Gwaine was not simply going to knock him out and rifle through his clothing for valuables as soon as he got him alone. Or tackle him to the ground and rob him of his virtue. That seemed a much more likely course of action.
The two men strode up a stairway to a large wooden door, with a bright, steady lantern hanging from the ceiling above. Gwaine retrieved another thin rectangle, this one white, and swiped it through a slot next to the door. A green light flashed and the door clicked open. Gwaine pushed through and beckoned for Merlin to follow.
They stepped down a darkened corridor, with dark red matted fur on the floors and a floral pattern on the walls reminiscent of the embroidery on Morgana’s gowns. They stopped in front of a different door, which made a clicking noise as Gwaine approached, and the door retracted into the wall, revealing Gwaine’s private quarters.
As soon as Merlin stepped through the door, Gwaine’s hands were sliding around his shoulders and his face came dangerously close to Merlin’s. Gwaine blew a hot breath over Merlin’s neck and whispered in his ear. “You have no idea how sexy you are, do you?”
Merlin did what he’d been trained to do in his years of experience with Gwaine’s drunken groping attempts, and elbowed him in the solar plexus.
“Sorry!” Merlin squawked, as Gwaine doubled over, gasping for breath. “You caught me off guard!”
Gwaine was now wheezing, tears streaming from his eyes.
Merlin hurried to grab Gwaine and herded him over to the middle of the room, where a plush stuffed brown chair and a light blue, equally fluffy bench sat in front of a low table. Once Gwaine was sat in the chair, Merlin wrung his hands in front of him as he caught his breath. “Do you need water? Or something?”
Gwaine choked out a laugh. “That was… not… exactly… what I… was expecting,” he managed between wheezes. “Bloody hell, you pack a punch.”
“That wasn’t a punch, exactly…”
“Elbow, then!”
Merlin’s eyes darted around the room. The walls were white and smooth on first look, but with a slight raised texture on closer inspection. There were pictures on the walls, not paintings - too smooth - but containing odd art subjects. Some actually looked like windows to the outside world, except the images they captured couldn’t possibly be from a window. In one, a woman was frozen mid-jump, hair streaming through the air and limbs outspread. Merlin had to tear his gaze from the image and look back at Gwaine, who was now breathing normally but inspecting Merlin closely, apprehension furrowing his brow. Merlin retreated back to the doorway, Gwaine’s eyes tracking him as he walked.
“Look,” Merlin said after a tense silence, “I’m sorry I elbowed you. Really. But I was not actually looking for… ah…”
“A good time?”
Merlin smiled down at Gwaine fondly. “Bloody hell, Gwaine. You’re just as bad as I remember.”
Gwaine narrowed his eyes at Merlin. “What’s that supposed to mean, mister we-haven’t-actually-met?”
Merlin felt a flush working its way up his neck, and he grimaced. “It’s complicated.”
Gwaine huffed. “Okay, okay. So. No funny business. You don’t put out on the first date, I get it. But you’ve been driving me mad all day. You’ve been staring at me just as much as I’ve been looking at you! And what was all that, at the bar?”
Merlin bit his lip. “It’s not for the reason you’re thinking.”
Gwaine stared for a moment before sighing. “I’ve been trying to ignore it, but there’s something seriously wrong with you, mate.”
Merlin hesitated, still hovering awkwardly in the doorway. As much as he should be terrified right now, he somehow felt safe. Besides, this was Gwaine. It could not be mere coincidence that his magic had brought him here, where everything was strange except this man.
“Sit,” Gwaine said, gesturing at the blue cloth-covered bench.
Merlin eyed the bench warily. How much should he tell Gwaine? How much could he?
Gwaine sighed, interrupting Merlin’s train of thought. “Merlin?”
“Yes?”
“What’s the deal?”
Merlin let out a huff of air, ruffling his bangs, before running his tongue nervously over his front teeth. “I’m not… from here. I don’t know this place.”
Gwaine snorted. “I could tell that much.”
“Oi!” Merlin said, frowning. “I’m trying to say something here.”
Gwaine raised an eyebrow as Merlin simply grimaced in response, running his hands through his hair.
“So,” Merlin said, “the important thing, I suppose, is that I have magic.”
“Magic.” Gwaine said it flatly, disbelieving. “You pull rabbits out of hats?”
“Rabbits? What? No,” Merlin said. He ran one hand through his hair. “I brought myself here, somehow, to this place. Using magic. It’s- I don’t belong here. I’m from Camelot.”
Gwaine snorted. “Let me guess, you’re here to save King Arthur from some dastardly fate.”
“What?” Merlin could feel his jaw drop. “How did you know that?”
“You should get some sleep,” Gwaine said, dodging Merlin’s question. “I think we’re both a bit pissed, yeah?”
“You don’t believe me.”
Merlin watched as Gwaine rose from the chair and disappeared down a hallway. He came back a few moments later with an armful of bedding, which he flung at Merlin’s head.
“Here,” Gwaine said, as Merlin attempted to disentangle himself from the blankets, “you can sleep on the sofa tonight, and we’ll figure it out tomorrow morning.”
Merlin blinked, surprised. “You’re going to let me stay here?”
Gwaine shrugged, his cheeks turning a faint pink. “Sure. As long as you promise not to kill me in my sleep.” He grinned lopsidedly, tilting his head at Merlin. “In all seriousness - Kay’s a friend of mine, so if he trusts you, then I trust you.” And with that he stomped back to the hallway and disappeared.
Merlin clutched the bedding to his chest. Tomorrow he would explain, make Gwaine believe him. He’d find a way to make it sound… if not reasonable, exactly, then at least less mad.
Maybe this was why his magic had put him here. If he’d found Gwaine, then maybe he could find Arthur. And if he could find Arthur, maybe he could save him.
For the first time since Arthur’s death, he let himself feel hope. He curled deeper into the bench, a smile on his face, and drifted towards sleep.
Merlin woke to darkness, panting, limbs tangled in his blankets, as the last vestiges of his nightmare slipped out of his reach. He lay in the darkness for a few moments, staring up at the plain white ceiling, before pushing off the blankets, sliding off of the sofa, and stretching.
Merlin needed to find Arthur. He needed... clean clothes. He bent his head down to sniff at the rank fabric next to his collarbone, still damp with sweat from his dreams. Disgusting. At this rate, even a thorough washing wouldn’t get the smell out. Perhaps it would be better to get different clothes entirely.
He also needed to find out how money worked here. Gwaine had mentioned the words “credit card,” but Merlin had no idea what that was. While he had been in the cafe, he had never seen the customers deal with physical coins. Most of them had used the rectangular card in the tablet. Others had handed Gwaine strips of parchment, which he’d stuffed into a drawer. A few of them hadn’t seemed to pay at all; merely given their order and walked away, and Gwaine had done something to the tablet when they left.
Then there was the matter of the black square that Gwaine kept pulling out of his pocket. What was its purpose? He’d apparently used it to lock the cafe, but he’d also pulled it out at the bar simply to gaze at it. But there had been a different object to enter the building where he lived, and the door to his home had disappeared into the wall merely by Gwaine’s presence - if that was not magic, then how was he opening the doors? Were there no physical keys in this place? Would Merlin be trapped if he tried to venture outside without a black box of his own?
Merlin went back to the sofa, tossing and turning restlessly, but after what seemed like an eternity, he gave up, and checked the window by the entryway. It was early, yes, but not that early, if the position of the nearly-full moon just above the horizon was any indication. He took a deep breath, walked over to Gwaine’s bedroom door, and knocked.
Chapter 4: Getting to Know You