Brassed Off Calendar Girls do the Full Monty in Camelot (20/22)
Chapter summary: Merlin finds his world suddenly turned upside down when he is attacked by the national press for his relationship with Arthur. Aided by his terse flat-mate, Will, he stages a vanishing act.
'He couldn’t bear to think that the warm delight that he and Arthur had taken in each other could be broken by the power of words. There was a part of him that wanted to believe that this would not happen, that he could trust Arthur’s feelings for him. But it was all so new, and Merlin was so insecure. He really could not be sure.'
Monday dawned innocently enough. Arthur spruced himself up and packed himself off to work, while Merlin pottered home to change and get ready for a physiology lecture.
Merlin was still feeling rather dazed, but happier than he could ever remember. He’d succeeded where he thought he could fail, he’d been in total control throughout the strip show (vodka notwithstanding), and Arthur, glorious golden Arthur, loved him. He felt elated, buoyed up by the weekend’s events.
He wandered aimlessly down the drizzly street of this shabby northern town, whistling tunelessly and splashing his feet in the puddles. Ranks of Victorian terraced homes marched up and down the hills, proudly stating their individuality through vibrantly coloured front doors. A grin stole onto his face. Dribbles of rain plastered his hair to his face and drifted in wet streaks down his cheeks, dripping off his nose into his mouth. He licked the water, relishing its freshness.
When he got home he was soaked through, so he stripped off and stepped into the shower, the buzz of the pump drowning out any other sounds. He used the opportunity to sing in perfect anonymity. Blues with a Yorkshire twist, he decided. He started with a bawdy rendition of “A rainy night in Grimethorpe,” and then moved onto “Barnsley on my mind”.
You know, if you’d asked him six months ago what made him happy, he’d have said he had modest needs. Playing on his flugelhorn. Listening to the blues. Lusting over cute men on TV. Simple pleasures. And those things still made him happy, oh yes, but now they’d been knocked down the list. Being adored by Arthur Pendragon was his greatest pleasure; it was a white-knuckle ride, a heady experience, it knocked everything else way down the list, and he never wanted it to stop.
He was just getting into a raucous rendition of “Born in Sheffield” (to the tune of “Born in Chicago”) when the first sign appeared that this bubble might be about to burst.
Will was knocking urgently on the door of the shower, which, given his reclusive tendencies, was frankly alarming. Merlin emerged, towel round his waist, face questioning. Will signalled, gravely, in his usual talkative fashion, (he said “Hey!” and beckoned) that Merlin should come and see something on his iPad. Merlin came to see what the fuss was about and stood shocked, mouth open, when he saw a grainy but unmistakeable video of himself snogging Arthur, ripping Arthur’s pants off, and standing in triumph upon the stage with nothing covering his own modesty but a pair of Velcro-fastened leather underpants.
“Fuck,” he choked, wild-eyed. Will nodded, and said “look.” Merlin clicked a link to a well-known daily tabloid newspaper. On the front page was a high-resolution image of himself as Miss December; the link to the video was underneath it. The headline was “ABBA! (Arthur’s Boyfriend Bares All)!” and the caption to the picture read “Pendragon Heir in Shameless Seduction Shock!”
The story went on to describe how “Arthur Pendragon, Uther Pendragon’s only son, heir to the Pendragon millions” had been seduced by “shameless, penniless Irish student and gold-digger Merlin Emrys,” together with speculation about Merlin’s motives, his background, his family and his competencies. The paper described the strip show in lurid detail, and went on to discuss whether Merlin’s appearance in the Calendar Girls shoot signified that he was an exhibitionist, or a hussy, or both.
It was a pretty thorough character assassination. Merlin’s hands trembled as he sat, still clad only in a towel, reading. Tears welled in his eyes. He couldn’t imagine who could possibly hate him so much to do this. Ice gripped his guts.
Well that was it, he thought.
Over the last few weeks Arthur had blasted a trail through Merlin’s carefully constructed emotional facade, had settled under Merlin’s skin as a brilliant, warm, ever-present layer of protection, and the joy of Arthur’s love was present in every breath Merlin took.
But Arthur would not want him any more. For if there was one person whose opinion Arthur valued it was Uther’s. And now? Now Uther’s name had been dragged through the mud in spectacular fashion. These lies about Merlin were all too plausible. Uther would hate Merlin. What would that do to Arthur? He could kiss goodbye to his relationship with Arthur, his place in Albion band, his friendships with Gwen, Lance and Gwaine, the lot. Someone had fucked him over, good and proper, and he had no idea who, or why.
He couldn’t bear to think that the warm delight that he and Arthur had taken in each other could be broken by the power of words. There was a part of him that wanted to believe that this would not happen, that he could trust Arthur’s feelings for him. But it was all so new, and Merlin was so insecure. He really could not be sure.
Will, regarding him sympathetically, clapped a hand on his shoulder. “Tea?” he said. Merlin nodded, speechless. There was a hot, burning lump of anxiety building in his gut, spreading through his head. He wanted to crawl into a corner and hide. His skin itched all over and his throat was tight. He padded back to the safety of his room and threw on some clothes, barely bothering to dry himself first.
“Fuck,” he whispered again as his phone began to buzz. Hands shaking, he picked up his phone from his nightstand and switched it off.
Returning to the lounge, he gratefully slurped down the tea that Will thrust into his hand, and peeped out of the window of the flat. He could see several photographers beginning to gather outside.
“Fuck!” he cried, panic whirling round his gut. And now this was no longer about Arthur and him; it was all about needing to run away. “I have to get out of here!”
Will nodded, pointing at himself. “Decoy,” he said.
Merlin could not express his gratitude at that moment. Between them they draped Merlin in every hat, scarf and pair of sunglasses they could find. Just before Will stepped out through the front door Merlin stopped him with a hand on his shoulder. He and Will had not spoken much, or spent much time together, and yet here was his flat mate preparing himself to run the gauntlet for Merlin. Merlin looked at him searchingly for a moment.
"Will?" he said.
"Mmm?" said Will.
Merlin thought for a bit then squeezed Will's shoulder and smiled.
"Just... thanks, mate."
"No worries," said Will.
As Will strode down the street, a swarm of interested onlookers gathering around him, Merlin slipped out of the fire exit, Gloria in one hand, an overnight bag in the other, and just walked, blindly, for several hours until finally he found his footsteps had brought him to Gaius’s house, where he knocked on the door. Gaius pulled him in and wrapped him in a tight embrace.
“Merlin,” he choked, “thank God.”
Merlin fell inside, heart pounding, and said “Please, Gaius, you have to help me.”
“Of course, my boy, of course,” said Gaius. “You must stay here. I will not tell anyone where you are, until you are ready.” Merlin nodded his thanks and, wrapping himself in misery, he shut himself in the spare bedroom.
He didn’t know how much time had passed when there was a knock on the door of the room. He padded over to let Gaius in. Gaius was holding a tray with some veggie curry and rice, and a steaming cup of tea. Merlin didn’t think he could eat anything without puking, but when he smelt the appetising aroma of the curry, he took a few tentative mouthfuls and suddenly realised he was ravenous. Gaius came and sat on the bed while he ate.
“You might like to know,” said Gaius conversationally, “That I have spoken to Arthur to let him know that you are all right but that you wish to be left alone at the moment. I hope that is accurate.” He regarded Merlin with a quizzical eyebrow. Merlin nodded gratefully. He couldn’t bear to see Arthur now that he’d shamed Arthur so dreadfully and so publicly.
“Arthur and I agree that it is likely to be Morgana who has sought to use you to hurt Uther. We think that Mordred has supplied additional details about you to the press.”
“Mordred?”
Gaius nodded and explained that Mordred had also been filming the performance, but had been caught and prevented from going any further.
“Everyone thought that by catching Mordred they had put an end to this nonsense. But it seems that Morgana had a back-up plan.”
Merlin buried his head in his hands. He had never done anything to Mordred, nor to Morgana. How could they hate him so much?
“Meanwhile we think that Vivian, being a friend of Morgana’s, supplied the photograph from the calendar,” Gaius went on. “Arthur, as you may imagine, is having trouble controlling his murderous thoughts towards the three of them.”
Merlin chuckled humourlessly. Yes, he could imagine.
Gaius put a hand on Merlin’s shoulder. “My boy,” he said, concernedly, “I want you to know that neither Arthur nor I blame you in the slightest for what has happened and you should not blame yourself. Your intentions were honourable. Arthur cares about you a great deal.” Gaius sighed. “In fact, what he said was, 'Gaius please tell that idiot that he’s not to beat himself up about this, and that I bloody love him, OK?'”
Merlin shook his head, but felt a little better. Arthur still loved him, despite the fact that he was a filthy hussy and a gold-digger to boot, if you believed what the Daily Moon said. His mood lightened a little, and he ate a few more mouthfuls of curry. Suddenly a thought occurred to him and he huffed.
“What?” said Gaius.
“Kahill’s going to have kittens,” said Merlin. “I’m not at rehearsal; you’re still here. There are probably press everywhere.”
Gaius sighed. “Yes, it would seem that Morgana’s ploy to disrupt our contest preparation has worked all too well.”
Merlin shook his head. “We should rehearse here, Gaius, you and me.” And so they did the best thing they could to forget their difficulties, which was to lose themselves in making music together.