reel_fic Three: Tis a Pity He's a Whore, Part VI

[xaritomene]

Title: 'Tis a Pity... Part VI

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.

**


**

Merlin and Gwen had caught the last plane out of New York that the airline was running, and had spent the entire trip in a luxury which Gwen, at least, had never experienced, and which Merlin still appreciated whole-heartedly, after three long years of scraping and making-do. The lounge was comfortable, the free tea and coffee and biscuits were very appreciated, and the feeling of finally going home gave them both an elation they couldn't quite suppress.

During the wait, and on the plane over - helped by the complimentary champagne they were given, and fully enjoying the delicious meal they were served before ‘bed’ - Gwen pumped Merlin about his time with Arthur, giving all the right reactions.

"He sounds like a sweetheart." She pronounced, finally, and he laughed, shaking his head.

"Oh, no." He said, firmly. "Anything but. He's an arrogant bastard and a bit of a prat. But," he softened a little. "He can also be a little bit wonderful, too."

For a moment, Gwen was silent, a rather wistful look on her face, then she smacked his arm with a grin. "Sap." She taunted. "So, what was it like, eating in the Empire State building?"

Yawning horribly, the climbed on the Gatwick Express to London, then headed across to King's Cross, and from there, climbed on the slowest train in the world to Ealdor. Keeping their eyes open was incredibly difficult - their bodies were still telling them that it was two in the morning, after all - they nearly missed the station, and tumbled out just as the train was getting ready to leave again, pulling their suitcases after them. For a moment, they stood, panting and laughing on the empty platform, deserted except for them and a rather disgruntled train guard - then headed for the exit.

The one taxi waiting in the rank was a very dilapidated old Ford Focus, which creaked alarmingly going up hills, and was driven by a rather batty, white-haired old man who Merlin remembered from his childhood - but who, thankfully, didn't remember him. So close to home, it seemed to take forever for the taxi to get to the cottage on the outskirts where Hunith lived - and for the first time, it occurred to Merlin that his mother might have moved.

Paying the driver with a twenty, and asking him to wait, he got out, and headed up to the door, pausing before knocking.

"One minute!" Definitely a woman's voice, and Merlin's heart caught in his throat. "Sorry, I was just in the middle of-" Hunith stopped dead in the middle of her sentence.

"Hi, Mum." He managed, painfully. "Nice to see you again."

Hunith's hand hovered in front of her mouth, her eyes huge and shocked, before reaching, trembling, for Merlin's face.

"Merlin?" She whispered.

"Yeah." His voice, very soft, broke over the word.

Tears starting in her eyes, she reached up and shook him, hard. "You stupid boy!" She cried, "Three years, no phone call, no letter - not even a post-card! I thought you'd died, you horrible, horrible boy!" She glanced at the taxi. "Is that that Kanen in there?" she demanded. "Because if it is, I'm going to give him a-"

"No, it's not. It's - a friend of mine." He said, almost crying himself. What was wrong with him? All these ridiculous tears. "She's called Gwen. We were - we shared a flat."

"Where were you?" Hunith wailed, hands still clutching his shoulders, more desperate than painful.

"New York." He said, "And I couldn't get back, the plane tickets were so... and then I-" he broke off. "I couldn't ring." He explained, shame-faced. "I couldn't, when - when I couldn't get home."

She pushed him away, reluctantly, one hand fisting in his shirt, patting his chest before letting go. "Go and get your friend." She said, wiping ineffectually at her eyes and sniffing before managing a smile. "It's so - so good to see you again, darling. But we are going to be having a long talk about things."

Gwen and Hunith got on like a house on fire, but Hunith's eyes kept straying to Merlin, silent and drawn at the table, drinking his mother's tea and one of her scones on a plate in front of him - "You look like a skeleton, don't they have food in New York?!" - and Gwen eventually excused herself, asking politely whether there was a bathroom anywhere, and whether Hunith would mind if she had a shower.

"Have a bath, dear, they're much more relaxing." Hunith suggested, kindly. "And you must be shattered. I'll show you to the spare room."

By the time she got back downstairs ten minutes later, Gwen ensconced in the spare room, and the sound of water running for a bath, Merlin had shredded his scone into tiny pieces, expression tense.

"Oh, honestly, Merlin," Hunith scolded, fondly, delighting in having someone to scold, "It may have been three years, but I thought I taught you better than to play with your food."

"I did some really bad stuff, Mum." He admitted, in a very low, rushed voice, "While I was away."

Hunith put a hand on his shoulder, but he didn't look up. "Worse than playing with your food, then?" She teased, very gently. He gave a rather hysterical choke of laughter, and nodded. "Did you hurt anyone?" She asked, softly. He shook his head. "Kill anyone? Steal anything?"

"No." He shook his head, quickly. "No, nothing like that."

"Well, then. It's nothing so very bad." She said, reassuringly. "You're my only child, Merlin, I could forgive you anything."

"Not this." He said, softly. He took a deep breath, “I - I was...” he couldn’t say it, shaking his head helplessly at her. “I was-”

“Darling, is it really so important?” she asked, gently.

“I need you to know,” he said, rather choked. “I turned tricks, Mum,” he blurted out, “I tried everything I could, but then - and it was so easy...”

For a moment, Hunith stared at him, eyes wide and horrified, then she stood, and came towards him, bending down to wrap her arms around his shoulders, hugging him tightly. “Oh, darling,” she said, “Darling, it doesn’t matter. It - it really doesn’t matter. Is that why you couldn’t come home?”

“It took three years of hating it for me to get my nerve up,” he admitted, in a clogged sort of voice. “I couldn’t look anyone in the eye here knowing what - what I’d done.”

“It was Kanen’s fault,” she said reassuringly, “And we all knew it. More fool you for thinking anyone who knew you would care,” but she said it so fondly it didn’t sting at all, “I’m proud of you for managing,” She added after a pause, “Not that I wouldn’t have preferred you to ring me when things went wrong so all this could have been avoided, but - I’m so proud of you for managing everything for yourself. And whatever you did, don’t you ever forget that.”

“But what I did-”

“It kept you alive, Merlin,” Hunith said painfully, “Do you think there’s a parent worth their salt out there who wouldn’t want that over almost anything?”

Merlin didn’t reply, and for a moment they stood in silence, Hunith still hugging Merlin tightly to her, until a knock came at the door, breaking them apart. She smoothed down her shirt and he wiped his eyes ineffectually as the noise of the door opening came clearly down the hallway.

"Hunith!" someone called, an all too familiar voice that had Merlin sitting up, completely shocked. "The door was unlocked, so I came - in..." Will stood in the doorway of the kitchen, staring, pole-axed, at Merlin. "Oh my God." He managed. "What- what the hell are you doing here?!" He demanded, finally. "Where were you?!"

"Will..." Merlin murmured, anguished. "I-"

"Why don't you two go out?" Hunith suggested when Merlin didn't seem able to go any further. "Here, take a couple of scones - Will, make sure he eats them - and go for a walk. I'm sure you'll feel less awkward."

"Gwen-"

"I'll tell her where you've gone when she gets up again, and she's had a sandwich or something; she looks half-starved as well. Now, what would you like for supper? Is spaghetti and cheese still your favourite, or have you grown up a bit?"

Merlin managed a laugh. "Yeah, no, I... I'll eat anything you cook, Mum."

"Good boy." She said, approvingly, with a wide smile. "Now, get on with the pair of you."

Pushed out into the back garden, with a scone each, they stared at each other for a long moment. "Woodlands?" Will suggested, finally.

Merlin laughed again and sniffed. "I haven't even thought about Woodlands for so long."

"I haven't been there for years." Will assured him. There was an unfamiliar awkwardness between them, born of distance, and for a few minutes, they walked in silence, cutting through the break in the back hedge and into the wood just across the footpath. "So - where did you go?"

“New York.”

“Wow,” Will said, appreciatively, apparently easing Merlin into this conversation gently, “D’you go up the Empire State Building and all that?”

Something in Merlin twinged, “Not till last week.”

“Well, it’s still pretty amazing - you, in New York! So, what did you do?”

Merlin swallowed, “I - well, I was a hooker, Will.” It was better to get it all out in the open immediately, Merlin was sure, like a ripping a plaster off all in one go; even if it did feel like the wound this plaster had been covering had hardly healed.

Will stopped and stared at him, “You’re serious?”

Merlin chuckled, “Yeah.”

“What, like - like Julia Roberts?”

“You do know that that was just in a film, right, Will?” Merlin asked mock-carefully, gratefully taking the out his friend had offered him.

“Whatever. I’m sure she’d be a total slut for me,” he joked, but caught Merlin’s wince, “Too soon?” he asked with surprising gentleness, placing a tentative hand on his shoulder.

The warm non-sexual contact reassured Merlin like nothing else could have done, and he smiled, nodding gratefully, “Yeah. A bit,” he agreed, “But, er... give me a coupla weeks, yeah?”

“Two weeks,” Will nodded, “And that’s your lot.” They wandered down the path, bickering back-and-forth like the always had, their time apart the elephant between them, until they reached the clearing where they had built their frankly-unstable tree fort as children, with the help of Will’s dad before he died.

Once there, Will chucked Merlin one of the now-battered scones and fixed him with a glare. “So, the Empire State Building. Spill it, Emrys.”

**

Arthur had been very, very wrong; nothing had got better when he was back home. He was more miserable than he ever remembered being, and everything reminded him of Merlin. Any art gallery had him wincing; he couldn't drive anywhere without being reminded of how shocked Merlin had been at his extensive use of private transport. In Merlin's absence, Arthur found himself taking the Tube, or fighting with the bus system, to appease someone he had sent away himself. Having to buy a new suit had him biting his lip, and he wasn’t sure he’d ever look at pizza the same way, after eating it just twice with Merlin.

Just as things were getting ridiculous, he got his dry cleaning back, and with it came a clear plastic bag with a letter in it: Arthur, written on the envelope in that cramped handwriting, unfamiliar and yet instantly recognisable as Merlin's. Arthur's breath caught in his throat.

He berated himself for shaking as he opened the bag, and pulled the letter out, smoothing out the envelope in a business-like manner before finally opening it.

"Dear Arthur,

I feel like an idiot for taking so long to write this, I must have tried ten times to write it properly. I hope it reads OK now.

There is no way I should say this, of course, but I didn't think you'd believe me if I said it to your face. It's hardly been a week, after all, and you were paying me to be nice to you; you were very clear that that was how you thought of our arrangement." Arthur thought of that stupid, insulting offer he'd made Merlin, and winced. He'd been so desperate to keep hold of him, he hadn't thought properly before making it, grasping helplessly at anything to make sure he didn't lose Merlin. And in the end, of course, he couldn't have done anything stupider; the harder he tried to hold on, the faster Merlin slipped through his fingers. "Of course, I understand why you made that offer," Somehow, Arthur didn't think he did, "It would have been very convenient for you." He winced "And I would have got to see you sometimes, when you were over. I know you think I'd start to annoy you if I was in London with you, if you saw me every day, and you're probably right. But that's what I want. Not to annoy you, of course, though sometimes..." Arthur chuckled, unwillingly "But to see you every day." Arthur's heart gave a sudden wild thump. "I know living with you this week hasn't been what it would be like normally, but I want to find out what it would be like. I want to know what you sound like when you sing in the shower, and to meet your friends, and support your difficult decisions and argue with you when you're wrong." Another unwilling chuckle. "And  you are wrong sometimes, you know. Even after a week, I can see you don't like admitting that.

"I know this is never going to happen, I do. And I didn't want to tell  you before, because you wouldn't have believed me. I'm just a hooker, you'd have thought I was just saying it. But I think I love you. I hope you'll have a great life.

Love,

Merlin."

For a long, long moment, Arthur stared down at the letter. He'd never really thought that Merlin could actually love him. People said the words, didn't they? All the time. He'd told almost all his previous girlfriends that he'd loved them, and for at least half of them, he'd been sure that he did, but he hadn't felt a fraction of what he felt for Merlin for any of them. And for Merlin not to say it to his face, not to say is at a moment when it would have gained him anything - when he'd disappeared out of Arthur's life - that meant something, didn't it?

Finally, he folded the letter carefully, and slipped it into a desk drawer. Fifteen minutes later, he pulled it out and read it again, before resolutely putting it away again. He had things to be doing.

He'd re-read it three times, with this strange, painful, joyful lump lodged in his chest, before ringing the only person he could think of to help him; Mo.

She picked up on the fifth ring. "Arthur, have you any idea what time it is now?" She asked, sleepily.

He checked his watch. "I'm sorry," he said, distractedly. "Time difference. I forgot."

"Yes." She sighed. "Well, what is it, then?"

"Mo..." He said, dragging the words out. "I, er... I think I'm in love, and I don't know what to do about it."

She sounded a little more awake when she replied. "Oh, Arthur."

"What do I do?" He asked, helplessly.

"Well, do they love you back?"

"He says he does."

"Do you think he might not?"

"Common sense says he's lying through his teeth." Arthur said, slowly. "He's got a lot to gain from being involved with me, and he's already gained a lot from being involved with me. But he waited until he wasn't involved with me anymore to tell me. He - he waited until he'd disappeared to tell me."

"Why does that make you feel better?" Mo asked, curiously.

"Well." he shrugged. "I means he just wanted me to know. He wasn't saying it. Doesn't it?"

"Arthur, there's only one way to find out." Mo said, gently.

"It will hurt so much if I'm wrong." He said, softly.

"Trust me," She told him, quietly, "It will hurt a great deal more for a great deal longer if you never try."

"You can't know that."

"Oh, trust me, Arthur, I can. Find this guy and try, for heaven's sake. Now, get off the phone, I have better things to be doing than acting as your relationship counsellor."

"Oh, god," A horrible thought struck him. "I didn't interrupt anything - important, did I?"

"Yes, you did." She said, firmly, and he winced. "My sleep. Go away, Arthur, and ring at a more reasonable hour."

"Thanks, Mo."

"Ring me at three in the morning again and you will not enjoy the consequences." Her voice softened. "Goodbye, Arthur. Good luck."

**

The first thing Arthur did after hanging up was type 'Merlin Emrys' into Google, and was actually rather surprised when he got a whole plethora of results, from newspaper reports to missing children websites; Merlin had been over eighteen when he’d gone missing with Kanen - just - but there were always websites for worried parents to search on, and it seemed that Merlin’s mother was one of the more computer literate parents of the age.

Obviously, nowhere gave a specific address, but the name Ealdor appeared everywhere, and Arthur jotted it down before reaching for his A to Z.

**

He had briefly contemplated taking the train to Ealdor, and then decided against it, heading down instead in the only car he could actually drive, an automatic mini. Ealdor was surprisingly easy to find, and when he did find it, it looked like something out of a fairy tale, all rose-covered cottages, narrow streets and village stores. After looking around hopelessly for a few minutes, as if hoping Merlin would magically appear, he stopped, and asked where Merlin Emrys lived.

"His mother's cottage is down there." Came the reply, and they gave him a long, hard look. "Can I take a message for you?"

"Merlin's  just - a good friend. I was hoping to look him up after some time apart." Arthur lied easily.

"That so?"

He kept his face blank and polite. "Yes. Sorry, which of these houses did you say was his?"

**

Five minutes later - after a little more judicious persuasion - Arthur stopped outside Merlin's house, staring at the little cottage with something that felt uncomfortably like longing. It was nothing special; picture-book pretty, but not special, as such; but the whole mien of the house - from the beautifully looked-after flower beds to the old, scrupulously clean car and neat garage he could see through the open garage door - made it look friendly and home-like.

He hesitated in the car, suddenly unsure whether this was a good idea. He'd spent so long without putting himself out there emotionally, he was terrified of doing it and being rejected.

Finally, he did it all in a rush. He got out of the car and slammed the door, heading up the path and knocking before he could stop himself by thinking it over too much.

"I'll get it!" A girl's voice called out, and Arthur's heart sank. Who was this? He hadn't thought about getting past anyone else, he'd just assumed - stupidly, he thought viciously to himself - that Merlin would open the door himself. Did Merlin have sisters? Brothers?

A pretty dark girl opened the door, and he offered a quick smile. "Hi. I'm here to see Merlin, is he around anywhere?"

She gave him a dubious look. "I'll just go and see if he's in." With that, she shut the door in his face, and he heard feet running upstairs through the door.

He waited for about five minutes, getting increasingly bored, before he heard heavier feet coming towards the door. Hoping it was Merlin, he straightened with a smile; but the door opened to reveal a ruddy, round-faced young man, about Merlin's age, who gave him a glare and said, "Who are you, anyway?"

"I'm Arthur Pendragon." He kept the smile in place; he wanted Merlin's family - family? - to like him, after all.

"You bought the plane tickets for him and Gwen." The boy said, slowly.

"Yes." Hopefully that would soften him up a bit.

If anything, it just made the man even colder. "Well, if you're here for payment, you can leave right now." He said, harshly. "Merlin doesn't do that anymore."

"I helped him get home so he wouldn't have to." Arthur said, sincerely. "I just - I just want to see him."

"Well." He stood aside. "I suppose you'd better come in, then."

The little house was equally pretty inside as out, and Arthur was shown into the sitting room, a pretty, unlived-in little room. Photos of Merlin as a child - sometimes with another little boy, more often alone - were scattered about the room, grinning from polished wood and silver frames behind porcelain figurines and candlesticks.

"Merlin will be down soon." The boy said, ungraciously, and left him there.

Arthur sat uncomfortably on the sofa for another five minutes, listening to the sound of voices upstairs, and finally, the sound of someone coming down towards the sitting room. He stood automatically when Merlin appeared in the doorway.

"Arthur." He looked neither surprised nor happy. In fact, he looked rather miserable. "I - didn't expect to see you again."

"I know. But - I read your letter..." Merlin flushed, and Arthur looked down, unsure of how to go on. "I wanted to come and see you again."

"I'm sorry about that." Merlin said, quietly. "About the letter, I mean."

For a moment, Arthur floundered, unsure of what to say in response to that. Finally, he said, very slowly, "Only be sorry... if it wasn't true."

Merlin looked up sharply. "It was." He said, very firmly. "It was true."

"Then please," it was Arthur's turn to speak quietly, "Please don't be sorry for it."

"I didn't mean to - put you in an awkward situation."

"It wasn't awkward." Arthur said, quickly. "Not at all. I just wish you'd told me earlier."

"Would you have believed me?" Merlin asked hopelessly.

"I don't know." Arthur's reply was honest, and Merlin's shoulders slumped a little more. "But I would have wanted to."

"Bu- I... what do you mean?"

"Do I really have to say it?" Arthur asked, pained.

"No." Merlin relented. "But I'd like you to."

"I - might, possibly...." he tailed off. "I want to help you find that fairy tale you wanted."

Merlin smiled at the reference, took a step forward, and then stopped. "Would you like to come into the kitchen?" He asked, "I'll do us tea."

"OK." He nodded, smiling. "Tea sounds like a wonderful idea."

Merlin smiled back, letting it erase some of the tiredness n his eyes, ease some of the worried tension around his mouth. "How much did you have to psyche yourself up to come here?" He asked, turning to lead the way to the kitchen, and Arthur laughed.

"Oh, you have no idea."

"If it's anything like how much I had to, to write that letter..." Merlin said, "I have some idea."

"I'm grateful you did. I could have lived the whole of the rest of my life trying to forget you."

Merlin stopped in the threshold of the kitchen and turned back to him. "That long?" He asked.

Arthur caught his eye and nodded. "That long. Longer."

Merlin stepped closer to him, but it was Arthur who pulled him into the hug. Still, Merlin hugged back tightly, eyes squeezed shut. "Oh, good." He whispered. "Good."

Arthur pulled back long enough to say, "I don't know whether it will work, whether I - I can deal with a partner, not an employee..." Because maybe that had been the problem all along, him, not Merlin, and if not, Arthur didn't think he'd ever admit it. He'd prefer to think that there was something wrong with him rather than have someone blame Merlin for anything.

"But you want to try as much as I do, right?"

Arthur nodded, hardly daring to speak. "Yeah." he agreed huskily. "Yeah, I do."

"Then let's just wait and see where it goes."

Arthur tried to think of something which he could say to express how he was feeling, but eventually gave up, leaning forward and pressing a fervent kiss to Merlin’s lips. It was Merlin who looped an arm around Merlin’s neck

If this was the rest of his life, he thought, he was probably one of the lucky ones.

FIN!

**

That's it! Promise! ^_^