reel_fic Three: 'Tis a Pity He's a Whore
In other words - OPERATION: REEL_FIC. STATUS: COMPLEEEEEEEEEEEETE!!!
Title: 'Tis a Pity... Part I
Author: xaritomene
Movie Prompt: "Pretty Woman".
Pairing: Merlin/Arthur
Rating: Hard R
Word Count: 28,007. The seven is important. Those are the most important seven words in the fic. Fiiiiiiind them.
...sorry. Midnight approaches and I am TIRED. *blush*
Spoilers/Warnings: Spoilers if you've never seen Pretty Woman...? None for the series, unless you didn't know that this show makes Torchwood's gay look like it just wasn't trying hard enough. ^_^
Author's Notes: Beta'd by an RL friend who doesn't have lj; any mistakes are my own. I had witty and amusing things to say here, but they died when I got to about 20 000 on the word count. DIED.
In other news, the mobile phones they use in the actual film. THE LULZ. They double as door stops. ^_^
Summary: Arthur is a rich business man - Merlin is the down-on-his-luck hooker he picks up almost by accident one night. Things Happen Between Them - and not just the things Arthur paid for.
**
Arthur was stood in the office he’d taken over for the afternoon, phone in hand, looking out at the garden party organised in his honour from the floor-to-ceiling windows. “I just hoped you’d be here, that’s all,” he said into the phone, “It’s not a long trip.”
“Arthur, it’s London to New York,” Sophia snapped, “It’s far too long a trip for me to want to take it just so I can be with you.”
“I’m your boyfriend, I thought you’d want to!”
“And I’m your girlfriend, not your - your call girl!” Sophia said, angrily.
“I never thought you were.” Arthur said, through gritted teeth, “Look, I’m only here for a week or so, and this trip is very important to me. I’d just like it if you were here.”
Despite that admission, Sophia’s voice remained cold, “And yet when I want you here with me, it’s a very different story!” She said, tersely, “To even get a message to you, I have to go through your secretary! I talk to her more than you - a lot more than you - and I probably have a better time with her than with you!”
“Well, I’m sorry you feel like that,” Arthur just managed to keep the slight note of petulance out of his voice - he wasn’t an abandoned child anymore, after all. “I never thought asking you to come to New York would be so unpleasant for you.”
“What part of ‘highly sought after model with a busy schedule’ made you think I’d always be available for your whims, Arthur?!” She cried.
“Well, if I’m so obviously misunderstanding you, maybe you should move out.”
“Maybe I should,” She agreed, all-too-quickly. “When you get back to London, we’ll discuss-”
“Now is as good a time as any,” he said, rather sharply.
“That’s fine with me, Arthur. Goodbye.” The phone went dead with an angry snap.
“Goodbye, Sophia.” He said to the dial tone, and put the phone back in its cradle.
**
He went back downstairs to the party slowly, dreading what he was going to find there, but it didn’t turn out to be quite as painful as he had been expecting.
"Arthur - it's so good to see you! How long has it been now?" He turned and saw the frighteningly gorgeous Morgana Fay coming towards him, and cracked an almost-genuine smile.
"Morgana." he smiled, and kissed her cheek. "I heard you got married. Sorry I couldn't come to the wedding."
She raised a tolerant eyebrow at him. "I'm surprised you remembered, but not that you didn't come to the wedding." She linked her arm through his, and they strolled out into the large back garden.
"Remind me again why I still talk to you?"
"I'm very good for you." She smiled. "Now that you're in New York, you must come and meet Galahad, you'd get on. And it would be nice to catch up. We haven't seen much of each other since my father-"
"I was sorry about that." Arthur said, awkwardly. "You- he was a good man."
"Yes, he was. And he would have hated the funeral he got, so it's just as well we were both too busy to go." She said, briskly.
"You didn't go to his funeral?" Arthur said, rather shocked, despite knowing Morgana since she was a child.
"Did you go to yours?" She asked, pointedly.
"Well - no... but I hated my father! You adored yours!"
"He always said black didn't suit me," She said, firmly. "And he didn't like churches or the ridiculous hymns people sing at funerals. I organised the whole thing, and that was enough - I don't care what anyone else says. I did what everyone else wanted to happen, but I wasn't going to go to it just because they expected it of me. I went for a long walk with Galahad instead."
Arthur thought that over. "That's - nice." he nodded, finally.
"It was Dad's favourite walk." She smiled. "He'd have preferred that to the funeral, but I don't think I could have persuaded everyone to tramp over hills in funeral clothes."
"Might have been a tough sell." Arthur agreed, with a smile.
"I was sad to leave England, when Galahad got this job with the bank." She said, wistfully, "But it's a fantastic job, with accommodation, and it'll really put him on the map."
Arthur paused for a moment. "Morgana - I'm sorry, but - who is Galahad?"
Morgana laughed. "You idiot. Galahad Purson, my husband."
"Oh. He considered that for a moment. "Morgana - when we were dating..." he said, awkwardly, after a long pause. "Did you talk to my secretary more than me?"
Morgana smiled a little. "Arthur, she was one of my bridesmaids."
**
He took his leave of Morgana a few minutes later, and headed out to the car park where he'd left the limo, only to find that his car - the limo and driver he'd brought - were stuck right at the back of the group of cars. There were, he reflected, downsides to being relentlessly punctual.
"Hey!" He called over to the car park attendant. "Is there any way of getting that car out?" He pointed at the limo. The man shook his head, and Arthur swore under his breath, glancing around for some way out of his problem. "Is this Mr. Le Rousse’s car?" He asked. When the man nodded, he smiled. "Give me the keys then, please." He ordered, holding out a hand. When the man hesitated, Arthur frowned, ever so slightly. "Come on, hand them over. He's my lawyer, it will be fine."
It was a testament either to Arthur's persuasive powers, or his fear tactics that the man actually handed them over, but his smooth getaway was somewhat hindered by Owain's arrival on the scene.
"Arthur - no, not my car, please not my car..." he pleaded. "Take the limo..."
"The limo's stuck back there and I've got to get back to the hotel," Arthur said, ruthlessly ignoring any protests. "You know you can get them to take you wherever you want to go when the party's over, and you'll get this car back in perfect condition tomorrow."
"Arthur, you haven't driven yourself anywhere in years, and it's a manual car! Not to mention a left hand drive!" Owain pointed out, desperately. "Please, look, just take the limo, it shouldn't take too long to get it out-"
"Long enough." Arthur said, with a smile, and put the car in gear. "Mm. Very responsive." he added, rather provocatively, he admitted, but Owain did occasionally annoy the hell out of him. "I love this car."
"I love that car, which is why I'd really rather you didn't drive it!" Owain cried, but Arthur had already gone by the time the protest was finished. "Arthur!"
**
When Merlin woke that night it was to a thumping headache and the knowledge that not only was the rent due, neither he nor Gwen had it. Gwen’s job at the shop paid badly - between them they had enough to live on and make up the rent, but between unavoidable food expenses and the bribes they had to pay to keep the authorities off their backs for their over-due visas, rent money had slid down the scale a little in the last couple of weeks.
But now all the other bills were paid, Gwen wasn’t being paid for another couple of weeks, and Merlin was going to be turning a lot of tricks over the next few days to make up their rent.
He poured himself into the tight skinny jeans he worked in, and yanked on one of his tight, almost see-through shirts; a belt and worn tennis shoes completed the look. Short of cross-dressing or wearing a sign, there were few ways he could make it really obvious that he was for sale, but he made up for with body language what he lacked in really obvious clothing. Still, he did alright.
He ran a slicked hand through his hair, mussing it to a careless bed-head look, and carefully applied mascara and liner to his eyes. The most horrible part of his now-automatic routine was the part where he had to prepare himself for the night, slicking himself open, but he knew from experience that more than half the time, illicit fucks in back alley-ways didn’t give much of an opportunity to prepare himself; and he needed to be able to work, which he could hardly manage if he was raw from being fucked without the right precautions.
That done, he made sure he had some condoms shoved into one of his pockets, a couple of dollars in the other along with some odds and ends which wouldn’t spoil the shape of the jeans, and headed out for the night.
He just hoped this one wasn’t as grim as most of his were.
**
Loathe though he was to admit it, Arthur really wasn't one of the world's natural drivers, and the manual racing car he was driving really wasn't making things any easier for him. Not to mention, in the streets of New York as it was getting dark, it was increasingly difficult to see where he was going, and before he knew it, he was hopelessly, helplessly lost.
He cursed his way through the streets of New York, wrenching the car through the gears with little thought to how well the gear box would deal with such treatment. In all honesty, he didn’t really care; it was too dark, and he wanted to be back in his hotel. He had work to be doing, dammit.
No matter how proud of the straight streets and grid system New Yorkers boasted about, it didn’t make navigating their darned city, Arthur thought viciously. He wasn’t entirely sure how he could go round and round in circles in a city built on a grid, but somehow he was managing it.
**
Merlin took up residence on his normal patch, one thumb hooked into his belt loop, one foot up against the wall, the classic rent-boy pose, as his mentor had told him. The same mentor who’d been put out of action by a queer bashing a couple of months ago - but Merlin couldn’t have that kind of thought right now. It wasn’t like he had any other options open to him.
A pimp might have provided the kind of protection he wanted, but a pimp might also try and follow him back to England, and when he left here with Gwen, he wanted to be able to just leave, and there were always horror stories about pimps getting rid of their ‘old stock’. Merlin didn’t want any complications to follow him back home. Besides, this way, he said when, he said who, and he said how much, and he got to keep all of it. This was much better.
In comparison, anyway.
Half an hour later, and he had to concede that it was going to be a slow night. He’d had a couple of interested looks, flirted with a couple of dead-ends who wanted freebies, and was starting to despair of making anything tonight when he watched as one of the most beautiful cars he’d seen edged down Old 42nd Street towards him.
It stopped a couple of feet from him, idling by the pavement. Merlin looked round, but no one else was there - none of the other hookers who worked this spot had arrived yet - but the owner of the car didn’t seem to be trying to solicit him.
Well, evidently that was just because they hadn’t seen him yet, and Merlin was going to put paid to that little problem.
He slunk towards the car, his mentor’s voice in his head telling him ‘work it, own it, come on...’ as he walked, and he leant over at the car window and licked his lips. “Hey, sugar... “ he purred, his American accent flawless after years of practice, “You looking for a date?”
“No,” Arthur said, still frustrated at his inability to find first gear in a left hand drive car, barely paying attention to the man at his car window, “I want to find Fifth Avenue, can you give me directions?”
For a moment, Merlin had been taken aback at hearing the familiar English accent from someone who wasn’t Gwen, then he smirked a little. The Merlin he’d been when he first got here would have given directions without another thought, happy to be able to help someone. That Merlin had never been so overdue on his rent that he was in danger of having to sleep rough, though, and now, he nodded, giving the blond man the best sexy look in his arsenal. “Sure,” he nodded, “For five bucks.”
Arthur paused, then sat back with a rather disgusted expression on his face. “Ridiculous.”
“Price just went up to ten,” Merlin said lazily.
Arthur stared at him. “You can’t charge me for directions!”
“I can do anything I want to do, baby,” Merlin pointed out with a grin, “I ain’t lost.”
“Alright! Alright, fine!” Arthur said quickly when it looked as though Merlin was about to walk off, “You got change for twenty dollars?”
Merlin eased himself into the car, and grabbed the note, “For twenty, I’ll show you personal.”
“Right. So, first gear...” Merlin sat patiently while the blond man eased off into the traffic, then winced, “Oh, god, put your lights on. Lights! Lights would be good here!”
They drove in silence for a few moments, Merlin pointing out turns off in near silence, until the blond man broke it, “So I’m guessing now is not the best time to be a rent boy, is it? With all the AIDs scares and sexual diseases-“
“Look. I always use condoms, I get checked once a month at the free clinic,” Merlin all but snapped it, “So not only am I far better in the sack than an amateur, I am probably safer.”
Arthur chuckled. “I like that, that’s good,” he complimented him. “You should get it typed on your business cards.”
Merlin turned away, willing himself not to flush. Who was this rich bastard, anyway? “Don’t make fun of me.” He said quietly.
“Sweetheart,” Arthur said, rather patronisingly, “I’m paying you twenty dollars to sit in a car and point out the way to me. If I want to make fun of you, I can.”
“Twenty dollars entitles you to nothing.” Merlin flashed back, then turned back to the window.
Another few moments of silence as Merlin pointed out a left turn. “I’m sorry,” Arthur apologised, “That was mean-spirited and unkind,” as Merlin stared, he sighed. “It’s been a long day.”
Merlin swallowed. No one ever apologised to him. “Want me to make it a bit easier?” he offered, with a sideways grin. At this point, he was resorting to innuendo because this guy had him totally wrong-footed.
Luckily the blond just laughed. “What’s your name?” he asked by way of an answer.
“What do you want it to be?” Merlin asked, absently, and chuckled as Arthur gave him a wry look in return. “Sorry. Merlin. My name’s Merlin.”
“Merlin,” the way Arthur said his name sent a shiver down his spine, but he kept his cool. “Well, Merlin, I need the Four Seasons on Fifth Avenue, is it a long way away?”
“About a five minute drive,” Arthur clunked through another gear change, “But you’ll make it a twenty minute drive going like that. This is an amazing car you’ve got here, four cylinders, real goer, and you’re pushing it through the gears like it’s an old tractor.”
Arthur shot him another amused look. “Where’d you learn about cars?”
“Friend and I used to fix them up back home,” Merlin said, dismissively. “Now, look, let me show you-“
“And where is home for you?” Arthur pressed.
“What are you, a cop?” Merlin said, jokingly, then paused. “Oh, god, you’re not a cop are you?”
“No!” Arthur laughed, “No, I’m just a - I’m just interested.”
“Oh. Well, home is - would you STOP mistaking your windscreen wipers for your lights?” Merlin said, by way of a diversionary tactic. It worked rather too well - Arthur pulled over to the side of the road and turned to Merlin.
“You ever driven an Aston Martin before?”
Merlin scoffed. “No.”
“Well, you’re about to. C’mon, swap with me.”
Merlin beamed, knowing his smile was far too big and wide for good looks - but really, driving an Aston Martin was almost as good as getting to screw this guy over for some big money.
Almost.
They drove off again into the traffic, Merlin revelling in the feeling of the car, which drove nicely without Arthur clunking through the gears. “See, this car’s pedals are like a race car’s - really close together. So it’s probably easier for a woman to drive, because - y’know - little feet. Except me. My feet are tiny. Not that that has anything to do with the size of my dick, because, you know, those studies are rubbish. But your feet really are the same size as your arm between your elbow and your wrist,” he held out his arm to the blond, soft side up. “D’you know that?”
Arthur shook his head with a small smile, “No, I didn’t know that.”
“Just a little bit of trivia for you.”
Arthur smiled, “You really are something, Merlin, aren’t you?”
Merlin grinned back. “Most people wait until after they’ve had me to tell me that.”
Another brief, more comfortable pause. “So, tell me. Out of interest... how much money would entitle me to more?”
Merlin’s heart leapt into his throat, but he kept his cool, pursing his lips dramatically. “Oh, I couldn’t take less than two hundred dollars.”
Arthur whistled gently. “Two hundred dollars?” Merlin nodded, “I had no idea you people made such good money. Two hundred dollars a night?”
“An hour,” Merlin corrected him.
“An hour?! You’re joking.”
“I never joke about money.”
“Funny,” Arthur said quietly, “Neither do I.” He paused. “Well, two hundred dollars an hour - that’s stiff.”
Without taking his eyes off the road, Merlin reached across and palmed Arthur through his trousers. “Well... no.” He said, with a mischievous sideways look, “But it’s got potential.”
**
The rest of the drive to the Four Seasons was mostly silent, until they drew up outside the hotel itself, the large bay in front - for arriving guests - empty except for them. Arthur waved away the parking valet and turned to Merlin, pausing for a second before saying,
“You’ll be alright getting back?”
The look in the boy’s eyes was almost soft, despite the tinge of amusement Arthur also couldn’t help but see lurking around those full lips. “Yeah,” he smiled, his voice also rather soft, still with that accent that Arthur couldn’t quite place. “I’ll, er - I’ll just call me a cab with my twenty bucks.”
“Back to your office, huh?”
Merlin paused, then laughed. “Yeah, my office.”
They sat in silence for another second or two. “So - did you really say two hundred dollars?”
The hooker shrugged. “Yeah, well... what can I say? I’m one of the best.”
“Right. Of course you are.” Arthur nodded. He hesitated again for the briefest moment, then said slowly, “Well... if you don’t have any prior engagements, I’d, er... I’d be very pleased if you would accompany me into the hotel?”
Merlin grinned. “You got it.”
He slid out of the car with feline grace - and the way he walked, a tiny conscious sway to his hips, had the Arthur thinking he’d definitely made the right decision here. “Coming?” The man asked, and Arthur nodded, quickly, following him out of the car and handing the keys to a valet.
Catching up with Merlin just before the door of the hotel, Arthur shrugged his trench coat off and handed it to him, meeting his eyes squarely.
“Just a precaution,” he said, keeping his voice low and inoffensive, “This is not the kind of place that rents rooms by the hour, and I’d prefer it if you didn’t give any of the other guests heart attacks.”
“Right,” Merlin breathed, “OK, then.” He kept his more rebellious reply to himself - he couldn’t afford to lose this job - and followed Arthur into the hotel.
Arthur was used to it all, but for Merlin, the hotel lobby was amazing, all marble and brass, comfortable leather chairs and beautiful flower arrangements. An enormous floor-to-ceiling mirror covered one wall, and as he caught sight of himself in the glass, he was suddenly glad for Arthur’s trench coat - even if it was far too large for him. He stared around, leaning against one of the pillars, unconsciously provocative while Arthur talked to the receptionist - “Good evening, Mr. Pendragon. Yes, the Ty Warner suite is ready for you,” - accepting a long fax and a couple of telephone messages.
“Oh, and - send some champagne and strawberries up to my suite, would you?” he asked absently, already turning away.
“Of course, Mr. Pendragon.”
**
Merlin’s eyes went wide when Arthur steered him away from the normal lifts in the lobby towards a separate one placed in one corner, operated by a bellboy in an uncomfortably stiff uniform who gave Merlin an uncomfortably know smile.
But if the lobby and the private lift had impressed him, the suite itself actually awed him, and he was silent for a good couple of minutes while he stared round it.
“So - you have all this to yourself?” he said, staring around the enormous sitting room, chic and discreetly luxurious, quietly overwhelming in its own way.
“Just me,” Arthur agreed, heading through the sitting room without a sideways glance and entering the office, where he had his laptop and could deal with the fax and his messages. Merlin followed behind him slowly, pausing to stare at every second thing in the room.
“Wow...” he breathed, letting his accent slip for just a moment. It wasn’t like Arthur would hear him.
The office was equally impressive, though again Arthur barely noticed the luxury, placing his paperwork on the desk and booting up his computer.
Merlin perched on the desk next to him. “OK, so this place is huge,” he said conversationally. “And - it’s just you, all the time. So... why d’you need all this?”
Arthur shrugged. “Because it’s the best,” he said simply.
“Right, of course.” Merlin smiled. “Well - wait, why are you looking at me like that?”
“You’re on my fax.”
He paused. “Well that’s one I haven’t been on before,” he drawled.
“Cute.” Arthur applauded, wryly.
Merlin chuckled, leaning to one side to Arthur had to reach under him to his precious fax. That done, he started kicking his heels against the priceless mahogany desk. “Look,” he spoke up finally, “I’m sure you’re busy, but I’m working on a pretty tight schedule at the moment, too, so I’d rather just get on with it, if you don’t mind.” Arthur frowned, but leant back in his chair; Merlin took this as approval enough. “Right, OK, so,” he reached into one pocket, “Condoms. I’m all out of blue, but I’ve got red, green, purple and yellow, and one last gold coin condom, the condom of champions, nothing is getting through this sucker.”
“A buffet of safety,” Arthur said, rather taken aback, managing to keep his tone sarcastic rather than shocked.
“Well,” Merlin shrugged, “I’m a safety boy.”
“OK, well-“
“Right, let’s get this thing on you,” Merlin reached towards his trousers, but Arthur grabbed his wrists quickly,
“No! I - look, can we just... I don’t know, talk?”
“Talk.” Merlin said, doubtfully.
“Yeah, talk! Just - talk. Warm up a bit.”
“...OK then...”
Arthur stood, leaving his desk and heading back to the sitting room. Merlin followed him yet again.
“So, Arthur, are you hear on business or pleasure?”
“Business. I think.”
“Business you think,” behind Arthur’s back, Merlin’s eyes rolled. Was a straight answer really so much to ask? “Well, let me guess what it is you do, then. That would make you... a member of the British royal family?”
That startled a laugh out of him. “No! Why would you say that?”
“They’re probably the only people who would describe what they do as business.” Merlin shrugged, with an answering grin. “OK, so not a prince,” he paused, tilting his head artfully. “Are you... a lawyer?”
“Why lawyer?”
“You’ve got that,” he snapped his fingers, searching for the right words, “Sharp useless look about you.”
Another laugh. “Guess again.”
“Alright,” Merlin grinned again, getting into it, “You’re the Bruce Wayne type - rich and useless by day, fearsome vigilante by night. Defending the weak and helpless. Chivalry for the modern age.”
Arthur’s own smile was in his eyes - somehow, Merlin had teased him out of his work mindset and Arthur had no idea how. “I wouldn’t have taken you for a Batman fan.”
Merlin shrugged. “Hey, even whores have childhoods.”
Arthur was about to reply when the phone rang - they both stood abruptly, and Merlin looked at the thing as though it was a snake while Arthur answered it.
“Hallo? ...oh, yes, good. Send it up,” he replaced the handset. “Room service.” He explained.
“Oh! Oh, OK. Well, I’ll just, er... go and meet them. Make myself useful.”
When the lift opened, Merlin greeted the bellhop with a wide smile - it made him look a little insane, but it was also strangely endearing. But Arthur ignored that thought in favour of watching Merlin follow the bellboy across the room to the table where the tray was being placed. There was a slight swing to the slender hips, an unconscious sexuality that was somehow far more attractive than the blatant, brazen posturing from earlier.
When the strawberries and champagne were safely down, the bellhop turned to Merlin with a hopeful smile. Merlin, however, met his eyes blankly, “Yes?”
There was no way the bellboy could ask outright for a tip - they were at the customer’s discretion, after all, but it would be unthinkable for someone in the Ty Warner suite not to tip - the bellboy widened his eyes and tried to look still more hopeful.
“Is there something wrong?” Merlin asked, worriedly, “Are you OK? Arthur, is there something wrong?”
To avoid further confusion - however amusing it was to watch - Arthur stood, drawing a ten dollar note out of his pocket and handing it to the bellhop. “Thank you.”
“Thank you, sir,” The bellboy said, relieved, and made good his escape.
Arthur favoured Merlin with an amused glance as he poured him a glass of champagne. “Idiot,” he said, lightly.
“Look, just because I forgot the tip,” Merlin said, rather defensively, despite the gleam of rueful amusement in his eyes, “I’m getting back into the swing of things. I come here the whole time - as a matter of fact, they do rent this room by the hour.”
Arthur laughed, handing him the glass, which Merlin obligingly drained immediately. Arthur stifled his sigh and offered him a strawberry.
“What’re they for?”
“They bring out the flavour in the champagne,” he said, rather pointedly, but Merlin just shrugged, taking two strawberries, and holding out his glass.
“You’d better fill me up, then,” he said, giving Arthur a look which let him know that Merlin didn’t just mean his glass. For a moment, they sipped and ate strawberries in silence, before Merlin put his glass down. “You know... I appreciate this whole - seduction routine thing you’ve got going on, but let me give you a tip - I’m a sure thing. So.... if we could just get on with it, I’ll just pop your load and be on my way. You only booked an hour, y’know.”
“I’m sensing that the ‘time’ thing is a real issue with you,” Arthur said, raising an eyebrow.
“Yeah, well. Time is money, and all that. I’ve got to be up and earning.”
“Let’s sort this out right now...”
“Great!” Merlin agreed. “Let’s get started!”
“How much for the entire night?”
Merlin stared. “The whole night?” Arthur nodded, and Merlin forced back a stupid, delighted grin, and tried to play it cool. “Are you sure? I mean, you won’t need a whole night of me, will you?”
“To tell you the truth, I don’t feel like being alone tonight.” Arthur shrugged, looking away from the dark man’s kohl’d eyes.
“Why, is it your birthday?” He asked, with a grin.
“No.” Arthur tried to make sure his reply wasn’t curt, but had a feeling he lost the battle.
“Because, y’know, I have been the party at a couple of birthdays.”
Arthur looked at the other man, taking in the artfully messed hair and wide, strangely trusting blue eyes. “I bet you have.” He murmured, then shook himself. Back to business. “So, how much for the whole night, then?”
“A whole night here?” Merlin affected nonchalance, shaking off Arthur’s revelation as easily as Arthur himself had. “You couldn’t afford me.”
“Try me.” Arthur challenged.
“The whole night? A whole eight, maybe nine hours? Well, I should charge you eight hundred, but you’ll get a discount for a bulk buy,” he smiled, inviting Arthur to share the joke, while simultaneously thinking of his and Gwen’s seven hundred dollar rent. “Six hundred dollars.”
“Done.” Arthur said, immediately. “There, maybe now we can relax.”
Merlin stared, forcing himself not to grin like a madman, “Oh, you are gonna have the best night of your life!” he promised, and Arthur laughed.
“Maybe,” he said, doubtfully, “But only once I’ve finished looking through my messages. I’ll be about half an hour.”
**
Part Two here:
http://xaritomene.livejournal.com/18474.html#cutid1
Title: 'Tis a Pity... Part I
Author: xaritomene
Movie Prompt: "Pretty Woman".
Pairing: Merlin/Arthur
Rating: Hard R
Word Count: 28,007. The seven is important. Those are the most important seven words in the fic. Fiiiiiiind them.
...sorry. Midnight approaches and I am TIRED. *blush*
Spoilers/Warnings: Spoilers if you've never seen Pretty Woman...? None for the series, unless you didn't know that this show makes Torchwood's gay look like it just wasn't trying hard enough. ^_^
Author's Notes: Beta'd by an RL friend who doesn't have lj; any mistakes are my own. I had witty and amusing things to say here, but they died when I got to about 20 000 on the word count. DIED.
In other news, the mobile phones they use in the actual film. THE LULZ. They double as door stops. ^_^
Summary: Arthur is a rich business man - Merlin is the down-on-his-luck hooker he picks up almost by accident one night. Things Happen Between Them - and not just the things Arthur paid for.
**
Arthur was stood in the office he’d taken over for the afternoon, phone in hand, looking out at the garden party organised in his honour from the floor-to-ceiling windows. “I just hoped you’d be here, that’s all,” he said into the phone, “It’s not a long trip.”
“Arthur, it’s London to New York,” Sophia snapped, “It’s far too long a trip for me to want to take it just so I can be with you.”
“I’m your boyfriend, I thought you’d want to!”
“And I’m your girlfriend, not your - your call girl!” Sophia said, angrily.
“I never thought you were.” Arthur said, through gritted teeth, “Look, I’m only here for a week or so, and this trip is very important to me. I’d just like it if you were here.”
Despite that admission, Sophia’s voice remained cold, “And yet when I want you here with me, it’s a very different story!” She said, tersely, “To even get a message to you, I have to go through your secretary! I talk to her more than you - a lot more than you - and I probably have a better time with her than with you!”
“Well, I’m sorry you feel like that,” Arthur just managed to keep the slight note of petulance out of his voice - he wasn’t an abandoned child anymore, after all. “I never thought asking you to come to New York would be so unpleasant for you.”
“What part of ‘highly sought after model with a busy schedule’ made you think I’d always be available for your whims, Arthur?!” She cried.
“Well, if I’m so obviously misunderstanding you, maybe you should move out.”
“Maybe I should,” She agreed, all-too-quickly. “When you get back to London, we’ll discuss-”
“Now is as good a time as any,” he said, rather sharply.
“That’s fine with me, Arthur. Goodbye.” The phone went dead with an angry snap.
“Goodbye, Sophia.” He said to the dial tone, and put the phone back in its cradle.
**
He went back downstairs to the party slowly, dreading what he was going to find there, but it didn’t turn out to be quite as painful as he had been expecting.
"Arthur - it's so good to see you! How long has it been now?" He turned and saw the frighteningly gorgeous Morgana Fay coming towards him, and cracked an almost-genuine smile.
"Morgana." he smiled, and kissed her cheek. "I heard you got married. Sorry I couldn't come to the wedding."
She raised a tolerant eyebrow at him. "I'm surprised you remembered, but not that you didn't come to the wedding." She linked her arm through his, and they strolled out into the large back garden.
"Remind me again why I still talk to you?"
"I'm very good for you." She smiled. "Now that you're in New York, you must come and meet Galahad, you'd get on. And it would be nice to catch up. We haven't seen much of each other since my father-"
"I was sorry about that." Arthur said, awkwardly. "You- he was a good man."
"Yes, he was. And he would have hated the funeral he got, so it's just as well we were both too busy to go." She said, briskly.
"You didn't go to his funeral?" Arthur said, rather shocked, despite knowing Morgana since she was a child.
"Did you go to yours?" She asked, pointedly.
"Well - no... but I hated my father! You adored yours!"
"He always said black didn't suit me," She said, firmly. "And he didn't like churches or the ridiculous hymns people sing at funerals. I organised the whole thing, and that was enough - I don't care what anyone else says. I did what everyone else wanted to happen, but I wasn't going to go to it just because they expected it of me. I went for a long walk with Galahad instead."
Arthur thought that over. "That's - nice." he nodded, finally.
"It was Dad's favourite walk." She smiled. "He'd have preferred that to the funeral, but I don't think I could have persuaded everyone to tramp over hills in funeral clothes."
"Might have been a tough sell." Arthur agreed, with a smile.
"I was sad to leave England, when Galahad got this job with the bank." She said, wistfully, "But it's a fantastic job, with accommodation, and it'll really put him on the map."
Arthur paused for a moment. "Morgana - I'm sorry, but - who is Galahad?"
Morgana laughed. "You idiot. Galahad Purson, my husband."
"Oh. He considered that for a moment. "Morgana - when we were dating..." he said, awkwardly, after a long pause. "Did you talk to my secretary more than me?"
Morgana smiled a little. "Arthur, she was one of my bridesmaids."
**
He took his leave of Morgana a few minutes later, and headed out to the car park where he'd left the limo, only to find that his car - the limo and driver he'd brought - were stuck right at the back of the group of cars. There were, he reflected, downsides to being relentlessly punctual.
"Hey!" He called over to the car park attendant. "Is there any way of getting that car out?" He pointed at the limo. The man shook his head, and Arthur swore under his breath, glancing around for some way out of his problem. "Is this Mr. Le Rousse’s car?" He asked. When the man nodded, he smiled. "Give me the keys then, please." He ordered, holding out a hand. When the man hesitated, Arthur frowned, ever so slightly. "Come on, hand them over. He's my lawyer, it will be fine."
It was a testament either to Arthur's persuasive powers, or his fear tactics that the man actually handed them over, but his smooth getaway was somewhat hindered by Owain's arrival on the scene.
"Arthur - no, not my car, please not my car..." he pleaded. "Take the limo..."
"The limo's stuck back there and I've got to get back to the hotel," Arthur said, ruthlessly ignoring any protests. "You know you can get them to take you wherever you want to go when the party's over, and you'll get this car back in perfect condition tomorrow."
"Arthur, you haven't driven yourself anywhere in years, and it's a manual car! Not to mention a left hand drive!" Owain pointed out, desperately. "Please, look, just take the limo, it shouldn't take too long to get it out-"
"Long enough." Arthur said, with a smile, and put the car in gear. "Mm. Very responsive." he added, rather provocatively, he admitted, but Owain did occasionally annoy the hell out of him. "I love this car."
"I love that car, which is why I'd really rather you didn't drive it!" Owain cried, but Arthur had already gone by the time the protest was finished. "Arthur!"
**
When Merlin woke that night it was to a thumping headache and the knowledge that not only was the rent due, neither he nor Gwen had it. Gwen’s job at the shop paid badly - between them they had enough to live on and make up the rent, but between unavoidable food expenses and the bribes they had to pay to keep the authorities off their backs for their over-due visas, rent money had slid down the scale a little in the last couple of weeks.
But now all the other bills were paid, Gwen wasn’t being paid for another couple of weeks, and Merlin was going to be turning a lot of tricks over the next few days to make up their rent.
He poured himself into the tight skinny jeans he worked in, and yanked on one of his tight, almost see-through shirts; a belt and worn tennis shoes completed the look. Short of cross-dressing or wearing a sign, there were few ways he could make it really obvious that he was for sale, but he made up for with body language what he lacked in really obvious clothing. Still, he did alright.
He ran a slicked hand through his hair, mussing it to a careless bed-head look, and carefully applied mascara and liner to his eyes. The most horrible part of his now-automatic routine was the part where he had to prepare himself for the night, slicking himself open, but he knew from experience that more than half the time, illicit fucks in back alley-ways didn’t give much of an opportunity to prepare himself; and he needed to be able to work, which he could hardly manage if he was raw from being fucked without the right precautions.
That done, he made sure he had some condoms shoved into one of his pockets, a couple of dollars in the other along with some odds and ends which wouldn’t spoil the shape of the jeans, and headed out for the night.
He just hoped this one wasn’t as grim as most of his were.
**
Loathe though he was to admit it, Arthur really wasn't one of the world's natural drivers, and the manual racing car he was driving really wasn't making things any easier for him. Not to mention, in the streets of New York as it was getting dark, it was increasingly difficult to see where he was going, and before he knew it, he was hopelessly, helplessly lost.
He cursed his way through the streets of New York, wrenching the car through the gears with little thought to how well the gear box would deal with such treatment. In all honesty, he didn’t really care; it was too dark, and he wanted to be back in his hotel. He had work to be doing, dammit.
No matter how proud of the straight streets and grid system New Yorkers boasted about, it didn’t make navigating their darned city, Arthur thought viciously. He wasn’t entirely sure how he could go round and round in circles in a city built on a grid, but somehow he was managing it.
**
Merlin took up residence on his normal patch, one thumb hooked into his belt loop, one foot up against the wall, the classic rent-boy pose, as his mentor had told him. The same mentor who’d been put out of action by a queer bashing a couple of months ago - but Merlin couldn’t have that kind of thought right now. It wasn’t like he had any other options open to him.
A pimp might have provided the kind of protection he wanted, but a pimp might also try and follow him back to England, and when he left here with Gwen, he wanted to be able to just leave, and there were always horror stories about pimps getting rid of their ‘old stock’. Merlin didn’t want any complications to follow him back home. Besides, this way, he said when, he said who, and he said how much, and he got to keep all of it. This was much better.
In comparison, anyway.
Half an hour later, and he had to concede that it was going to be a slow night. He’d had a couple of interested looks, flirted with a couple of dead-ends who wanted freebies, and was starting to despair of making anything tonight when he watched as one of the most beautiful cars he’d seen edged down Old 42nd Street towards him.
It stopped a couple of feet from him, idling by the pavement. Merlin looked round, but no one else was there - none of the other hookers who worked this spot had arrived yet - but the owner of the car didn’t seem to be trying to solicit him.
Well, evidently that was just because they hadn’t seen him yet, and Merlin was going to put paid to that little problem.
He slunk towards the car, his mentor’s voice in his head telling him ‘work it, own it, come on...’ as he walked, and he leant over at the car window and licked his lips. “Hey, sugar... “ he purred, his American accent flawless after years of practice, “You looking for a date?”
“No,” Arthur said, still frustrated at his inability to find first gear in a left hand drive car, barely paying attention to the man at his car window, “I want to find Fifth Avenue, can you give me directions?”
For a moment, Merlin had been taken aback at hearing the familiar English accent from someone who wasn’t Gwen, then he smirked a little. The Merlin he’d been when he first got here would have given directions without another thought, happy to be able to help someone. That Merlin had never been so overdue on his rent that he was in danger of having to sleep rough, though, and now, he nodded, giving the blond man the best sexy look in his arsenal. “Sure,” he nodded, “For five bucks.”
Arthur paused, then sat back with a rather disgusted expression on his face. “Ridiculous.”
“Price just went up to ten,” Merlin said lazily.
Arthur stared at him. “You can’t charge me for directions!”
“I can do anything I want to do, baby,” Merlin pointed out with a grin, “I ain’t lost.”
“Alright! Alright, fine!” Arthur said quickly when it looked as though Merlin was about to walk off, “You got change for twenty dollars?”
Merlin eased himself into the car, and grabbed the note, “For twenty, I’ll show you personal.”
“Right. So, first gear...” Merlin sat patiently while the blond man eased off into the traffic, then winced, “Oh, god, put your lights on. Lights! Lights would be good here!”
They drove in silence for a few moments, Merlin pointing out turns off in near silence, until the blond man broke it, “So I’m guessing now is not the best time to be a rent boy, is it? With all the AIDs scares and sexual diseases-“
“Look. I always use condoms, I get checked once a month at the free clinic,” Merlin all but snapped it, “So not only am I far better in the sack than an amateur, I am probably safer.”
Arthur chuckled. “I like that, that’s good,” he complimented him. “You should get it typed on your business cards.”
Merlin turned away, willing himself not to flush. Who was this rich bastard, anyway? “Don’t make fun of me.” He said quietly.
“Sweetheart,” Arthur said, rather patronisingly, “I’m paying you twenty dollars to sit in a car and point out the way to me. If I want to make fun of you, I can.”
“Twenty dollars entitles you to nothing.” Merlin flashed back, then turned back to the window.
Another few moments of silence as Merlin pointed out a left turn. “I’m sorry,” Arthur apologised, “That was mean-spirited and unkind,” as Merlin stared, he sighed. “It’s been a long day.”
Merlin swallowed. No one ever apologised to him. “Want me to make it a bit easier?” he offered, with a sideways grin. At this point, he was resorting to innuendo because this guy had him totally wrong-footed.
Luckily the blond just laughed. “What’s your name?” he asked by way of an answer.
“What do you want it to be?” Merlin asked, absently, and chuckled as Arthur gave him a wry look in return. “Sorry. Merlin. My name’s Merlin.”
“Merlin,” the way Arthur said his name sent a shiver down his spine, but he kept his cool. “Well, Merlin, I need the Four Seasons on Fifth Avenue, is it a long way away?”
“About a five minute drive,” Arthur clunked through another gear change, “But you’ll make it a twenty minute drive going like that. This is an amazing car you’ve got here, four cylinders, real goer, and you’re pushing it through the gears like it’s an old tractor.”
Arthur shot him another amused look. “Where’d you learn about cars?”
“Friend and I used to fix them up back home,” Merlin said, dismissively. “Now, look, let me show you-“
“And where is home for you?” Arthur pressed.
“What are you, a cop?” Merlin said, jokingly, then paused. “Oh, god, you’re not a cop are you?”
“No!” Arthur laughed, “No, I’m just a - I’m just interested.”
“Oh. Well, home is - would you STOP mistaking your windscreen wipers for your lights?” Merlin said, by way of a diversionary tactic. It worked rather too well - Arthur pulled over to the side of the road and turned to Merlin.
“You ever driven an Aston Martin before?”
Merlin scoffed. “No.”
“Well, you’re about to. C’mon, swap with me.”
Merlin beamed, knowing his smile was far too big and wide for good looks - but really, driving an Aston Martin was almost as good as getting to screw this guy over for some big money.
Almost.
They drove off again into the traffic, Merlin revelling in the feeling of the car, which drove nicely without Arthur clunking through the gears. “See, this car’s pedals are like a race car’s - really close together. So it’s probably easier for a woman to drive, because - y’know - little feet. Except me. My feet are tiny. Not that that has anything to do with the size of my dick, because, you know, those studies are rubbish. But your feet really are the same size as your arm between your elbow and your wrist,” he held out his arm to the blond, soft side up. “D’you know that?”
Arthur shook his head with a small smile, “No, I didn’t know that.”
“Just a little bit of trivia for you.”
Arthur smiled, “You really are something, Merlin, aren’t you?”
Merlin grinned back. “Most people wait until after they’ve had me to tell me that.”
Another brief, more comfortable pause. “So, tell me. Out of interest... how much money would entitle me to more?”
Merlin’s heart leapt into his throat, but he kept his cool, pursing his lips dramatically. “Oh, I couldn’t take less than two hundred dollars.”
Arthur whistled gently. “Two hundred dollars?” Merlin nodded, “I had no idea you people made such good money. Two hundred dollars a night?”
“An hour,” Merlin corrected him.
“An hour?! You’re joking.”
“I never joke about money.”
“Funny,” Arthur said quietly, “Neither do I.” He paused. “Well, two hundred dollars an hour - that’s stiff.”
Without taking his eyes off the road, Merlin reached across and palmed Arthur through his trousers. “Well... no.” He said, with a mischievous sideways look, “But it’s got potential.”
**
The rest of the drive to the Four Seasons was mostly silent, until they drew up outside the hotel itself, the large bay in front - for arriving guests - empty except for them. Arthur waved away the parking valet and turned to Merlin, pausing for a second before saying,
“You’ll be alright getting back?”
The look in the boy’s eyes was almost soft, despite the tinge of amusement Arthur also couldn’t help but see lurking around those full lips. “Yeah,” he smiled, his voice also rather soft, still with that accent that Arthur couldn’t quite place. “I’ll, er - I’ll just call me a cab with my twenty bucks.”
“Back to your office, huh?”
Merlin paused, then laughed. “Yeah, my office.”
They sat in silence for another second or two. “So - did you really say two hundred dollars?”
The hooker shrugged. “Yeah, well... what can I say? I’m one of the best.”
“Right. Of course you are.” Arthur nodded. He hesitated again for the briefest moment, then said slowly, “Well... if you don’t have any prior engagements, I’d, er... I’d be very pleased if you would accompany me into the hotel?”
Merlin grinned. “You got it.”
He slid out of the car with feline grace - and the way he walked, a tiny conscious sway to his hips, had the Arthur thinking he’d definitely made the right decision here. “Coming?” The man asked, and Arthur nodded, quickly, following him out of the car and handing the keys to a valet.
Catching up with Merlin just before the door of the hotel, Arthur shrugged his trench coat off and handed it to him, meeting his eyes squarely.
“Just a precaution,” he said, keeping his voice low and inoffensive, “This is not the kind of place that rents rooms by the hour, and I’d prefer it if you didn’t give any of the other guests heart attacks.”
“Right,” Merlin breathed, “OK, then.” He kept his more rebellious reply to himself - he couldn’t afford to lose this job - and followed Arthur into the hotel.
Arthur was used to it all, but for Merlin, the hotel lobby was amazing, all marble and brass, comfortable leather chairs and beautiful flower arrangements. An enormous floor-to-ceiling mirror covered one wall, and as he caught sight of himself in the glass, he was suddenly glad for Arthur’s trench coat - even if it was far too large for him. He stared around, leaning against one of the pillars, unconsciously provocative while Arthur talked to the receptionist - “Good evening, Mr. Pendragon. Yes, the Ty Warner suite is ready for you,” - accepting a long fax and a couple of telephone messages.
“Oh, and - send some champagne and strawberries up to my suite, would you?” he asked absently, already turning away.
“Of course, Mr. Pendragon.”
**
Merlin’s eyes went wide when Arthur steered him away from the normal lifts in the lobby towards a separate one placed in one corner, operated by a bellboy in an uncomfortably stiff uniform who gave Merlin an uncomfortably know smile.
But if the lobby and the private lift had impressed him, the suite itself actually awed him, and he was silent for a good couple of minutes while he stared round it.
“So - you have all this to yourself?” he said, staring around the enormous sitting room, chic and discreetly luxurious, quietly overwhelming in its own way.
“Just me,” Arthur agreed, heading through the sitting room without a sideways glance and entering the office, where he had his laptop and could deal with the fax and his messages. Merlin followed behind him slowly, pausing to stare at every second thing in the room.
“Wow...” he breathed, letting his accent slip for just a moment. It wasn’t like Arthur would hear him.
The office was equally impressive, though again Arthur barely noticed the luxury, placing his paperwork on the desk and booting up his computer.
Merlin perched on the desk next to him. “OK, so this place is huge,” he said conversationally. “And - it’s just you, all the time. So... why d’you need all this?”
Arthur shrugged. “Because it’s the best,” he said simply.
“Right, of course.” Merlin smiled. “Well - wait, why are you looking at me like that?”
“You’re on my fax.”
He paused. “Well that’s one I haven’t been on before,” he drawled.
“Cute.” Arthur applauded, wryly.
Merlin chuckled, leaning to one side to Arthur had to reach under him to his precious fax. That done, he started kicking his heels against the priceless mahogany desk. “Look,” he spoke up finally, “I’m sure you’re busy, but I’m working on a pretty tight schedule at the moment, too, so I’d rather just get on with it, if you don’t mind.” Arthur frowned, but leant back in his chair; Merlin took this as approval enough. “Right, OK, so,” he reached into one pocket, “Condoms. I’m all out of blue, but I’ve got red, green, purple and yellow, and one last gold coin condom, the condom of champions, nothing is getting through this sucker.”
“A buffet of safety,” Arthur said, rather taken aback, managing to keep his tone sarcastic rather than shocked.
“Well,” Merlin shrugged, “I’m a safety boy.”
“OK, well-“
“Right, let’s get this thing on you,” Merlin reached towards his trousers, but Arthur grabbed his wrists quickly,
“No! I - look, can we just... I don’t know, talk?”
“Talk.” Merlin said, doubtfully.
“Yeah, talk! Just - talk. Warm up a bit.”
“...OK then...”
Arthur stood, leaving his desk and heading back to the sitting room. Merlin followed him yet again.
“So, Arthur, are you hear on business or pleasure?”
“Business. I think.”
“Business you think,” behind Arthur’s back, Merlin’s eyes rolled. Was a straight answer really so much to ask? “Well, let me guess what it is you do, then. That would make you... a member of the British royal family?”
That startled a laugh out of him. “No! Why would you say that?”
“They’re probably the only people who would describe what they do as business.” Merlin shrugged, with an answering grin. “OK, so not a prince,” he paused, tilting his head artfully. “Are you... a lawyer?”
“Why lawyer?”
“You’ve got that,” he snapped his fingers, searching for the right words, “Sharp useless look about you.”
Another laugh. “Guess again.”
“Alright,” Merlin grinned again, getting into it, “You’re the Bruce Wayne type - rich and useless by day, fearsome vigilante by night. Defending the weak and helpless. Chivalry for the modern age.”
Arthur’s own smile was in his eyes - somehow, Merlin had teased him out of his work mindset and Arthur had no idea how. “I wouldn’t have taken you for a Batman fan.”
Merlin shrugged. “Hey, even whores have childhoods.”
Arthur was about to reply when the phone rang - they both stood abruptly, and Merlin looked at the thing as though it was a snake while Arthur answered it.
“Hallo? ...oh, yes, good. Send it up,” he replaced the handset. “Room service.” He explained.
“Oh! Oh, OK. Well, I’ll just, er... go and meet them. Make myself useful.”
When the lift opened, Merlin greeted the bellhop with a wide smile - it made him look a little insane, but it was also strangely endearing. But Arthur ignored that thought in favour of watching Merlin follow the bellboy across the room to the table where the tray was being placed. There was a slight swing to the slender hips, an unconscious sexuality that was somehow far more attractive than the blatant, brazen posturing from earlier.
When the strawberries and champagne were safely down, the bellhop turned to Merlin with a hopeful smile. Merlin, however, met his eyes blankly, “Yes?”
There was no way the bellboy could ask outright for a tip - they were at the customer’s discretion, after all, but it would be unthinkable for someone in the Ty Warner suite not to tip - the bellboy widened his eyes and tried to look still more hopeful.
“Is there something wrong?” Merlin asked, worriedly, “Are you OK? Arthur, is there something wrong?”
To avoid further confusion - however amusing it was to watch - Arthur stood, drawing a ten dollar note out of his pocket and handing it to the bellhop. “Thank you.”
“Thank you, sir,” The bellboy said, relieved, and made good his escape.
Arthur favoured Merlin with an amused glance as he poured him a glass of champagne. “Idiot,” he said, lightly.
“Look, just because I forgot the tip,” Merlin said, rather defensively, despite the gleam of rueful amusement in his eyes, “I’m getting back into the swing of things. I come here the whole time - as a matter of fact, they do rent this room by the hour.”
Arthur laughed, handing him the glass, which Merlin obligingly drained immediately. Arthur stifled his sigh and offered him a strawberry.
“What’re they for?”
“They bring out the flavour in the champagne,” he said, rather pointedly, but Merlin just shrugged, taking two strawberries, and holding out his glass.
“You’d better fill me up, then,” he said, giving Arthur a look which let him know that Merlin didn’t just mean his glass. For a moment, they sipped and ate strawberries in silence, before Merlin put his glass down. “You know... I appreciate this whole - seduction routine thing you’ve got going on, but let me give you a tip - I’m a sure thing. So.... if we could just get on with it, I’ll just pop your load and be on my way. You only booked an hour, y’know.”
“I’m sensing that the ‘time’ thing is a real issue with you,” Arthur said, raising an eyebrow.
“Yeah, well. Time is money, and all that. I’ve got to be up and earning.”
“Let’s sort this out right now...”
“Great!” Merlin agreed. “Let’s get started!”
“How much for the entire night?”
Merlin stared. “The whole night?” Arthur nodded, and Merlin forced back a stupid, delighted grin, and tried to play it cool. “Are you sure? I mean, you won’t need a whole night of me, will you?”
“To tell you the truth, I don’t feel like being alone tonight.” Arthur shrugged, looking away from the dark man’s kohl’d eyes.
“Why, is it your birthday?” He asked, with a grin.
“No.” Arthur tried to make sure his reply wasn’t curt, but had a feeling he lost the battle.
“Because, y’know, I have been the party at a couple of birthdays.”
Arthur looked at the other man, taking in the artfully messed hair and wide, strangely trusting blue eyes. “I bet you have.” He murmured, then shook himself. Back to business. “So, how much for the whole night, then?”
“A whole night here?” Merlin affected nonchalance, shaking off Arthur’s revelation as easily as Arthur himself had. “You couldn’t afford me.”
“Try me.” Arthur challenged.
“The whole night? A whole eight, maybe nine hours? Well, I should charge you eight hundred, but you’ll get a discount for a bulk buy,” he smiled, inviting Arthur to share the joke, while simultaneously thinking of his and Gwen’s seven hundred dollar rent. “Six hundred dollars.”
“Done.” Arthur said, immediately. “There, maybe now we can relax.”
Merlin stared, forcing himself not to grin like a madman, “Oh, you are gonna have the best night of your life!” he promised, and Arthur laughed.
“Maybe,” he said, doubtfully, “But only once I’ve finished looking through my messages. I’ll be about half an hour.”
**
Part Two here:
http://xaritomene.livejournal.com/18474.html#cutid1