Merlin - But Only Say the Word and I Shall [Part 2]
Title: But Only Say the Word and I Shall [Part 2]
Genre: AU, Slash and Pre-Slash
Pairings: Arthur/Merlin (pre-slash), Lance/Will, slight Arthur/Gwen
Length: ~22,000 words
Rating: R
Warnings: Depictions of homophobia and the aftermath of violence. The rating is due to this more than any sexual overtones.
Synopsis: “And now these three remain: faith, hope, and love. But the greatest of these is love.” 1 Corinthians 13:13
Prompt: 2121. Merlin, Merlin/Arthur, AU: Uther Pendragon is the head preacher at Camelot Ministries -- the American-style anti-LGBT mega-church that has become popular in Britain. Arthur knows that he's expected to marry Gwen and take over from his father one day -- but when Merlin Emrys is assigned to work as his clerical assistant, Arthur is forced to confront the fact that he is gay.
Author’s Notes: Written for lgbtfest. I hope I did the subject matter justice.
Disclaimer: I do not own this interpretation of the myths and am making no profit from this.
Live Journal:
Part One | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four
Dreamwidth:
Part One | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four
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The next morning he questioned those horizons. He was not hung over, he made certain enough that he was in fit shape to drive home, but he was still bone tired when his father came knocking on his door far too early in the morning for a civil conversation.
His father, as per usual, simply pressed on ahead with whatever was on his mind, this time the phrasing of a point he wished to make in Sunday’s sermon, until something finally clicked and he paused and asked, “Are you ill?”
“Wha-?” Arthur managed around a yawn.
“Ill,” his father repeated. He pressed a hand to his son’s forehead and said, “You have no fever, but the shadows under your eyes are quite impressive. Do you need to see a physician?”
Arthur pushed himself up against his pillows, knowing his father held true on his threats and he did not want any excuse to be poked, prodded, and pricked just because he happened to get less sleep than normal. “Just tired is all,” he insisted around another yawn.
“You did return quite late last night; I trust there was nothing wrong?” his father asked.
Arthur shook his head, remembering the evening of frank discussion and damned good drinks. He had blushed more than once, but Merlin and his friends had taken pity on him and refrained from indulging fully in some of the more bawdy topics suggested. “No, just got caught up talking with Merlin and his roommate when I dropped him off is all.”
“Merlin seems like a good enough lad, though a bit daft at times,” his father mused. “Though I cannot see what you two would have in common enough to discuss for a car ride, let alone an evening’s conversation.”
For some reason, Arthur felt his hackles rise at that. Perhaps it was his father’s casual dismissal of the man as unimportant, or perhaps it was that Arthur had grown to see Merlin as friend instead of an employee over the past week. He kept his tone calm and neutral though as he knew his father far too well. “Actually, we discussed some of his previous volunteering work as well as some ideas he has to help out with Morgana’s outreach idea. I was going to discuss that with her later today, or maybe we should have Merlin over for dinner so he can discuss it himself in a more informal fashion.”
That might have been pushing it, and he knew it. The dinner would force his father to be polite and actually treat Merlin as an equal in conversation. However, discussing it at the Ministry made it a more formal matter that would need to be logged. Logging it meant it went in the books as more than Morgana’s passing fancy and as an allocation of resources as Merlin was assigned to Arthur’s duties. It would be that much harder for his father to ignore the matter, either way, which of course led to his father’s next words.
“Hmm, perhaps the three of you could go out for coffee or whatever it is that is popular these days,” Uther said with just that touch too much of casual to be real. Then, with a hint of the levity Arthur was beginning to miss in him, he added, “Though I do fear to see the boy more caffeinated than usual. You may need to find a track for him to run around on to wear off that energy.”
Arthur smiled and found it matched in turn. “I’ll call both of them and see what we can arrange,” he promised.
“Do try to avoid that area of his,” his father said, making a face. “I had his address reviewed when he was hired. Though it is honourable that he lives in the area that could most benefit from our attentions, there is no need to dally there.”
The smile upon Arthur’s face grew more forced, but he was determined to keep it there. So his father knew Merlin lived in a predominately homosexual neighbourhood. That was news to him. He idly wondered what his father’s reaction would be if he told him he spent last night in a gay man’s trousers, but thought better of actually speaking that part out loud. It was incredibly tempting, even though he had made a resolution to try not to purposely set his father off years ago. He was not sure why the urge was so strong, and he did not even have the excuse of drunkenness to fall back on as he truly did not consume that much the night before.
Finally, his father stood and headed towards the door. “Arthur,” his father chided as Arthur yawned once more, “Try to get some rest first. You look awful.”
Arthur nodded and, like the dutiful son he was, prepared to do just that.
He met Merlin and Morgana later that afternoon at a small shop near the Ministry. He found Merlin had some decent ideas that Morgana latched on to and made even grander, until both men tried to get her to scale it back. They argued that the grandness was admirable, but to be able to sell the idea, they needed to start off small and grow from there. Morgana did not like it, but reluctantly agreed.
She sat back in her chair after a while and seemed content to watch the two men as they watched the rest of the world go by the large front window on yet another drizzly day. “So what started all this then?” she asked as she sipped her second latte of the afternoon.
“All what?” Arthur asked distractedly. There was a man out front berating a young couple for holding hands on the street or some other foolish thing. The two lads had just rolled their eyes and walked away, but the man was still going on about it long after they had wandered off.
“This sudden interest in things other than ancient scriptures or Uther’s teachings,” Morgana replied, never quite being willing to call her foster father by anything other than his given name. He forced himself to look away from the window and focus instead on what she was saying.
He held his cup of coffee in his hands and smirked depreciatingly. “It has recently come to my attention that there are some things I simply do not know about and I am trying to rectify that. Not knowing about your programme is but the least of it, but I felt it was a place to start.”
Morgana raised an eyebrow in what Arthur had learned was often a sign of genuine surprise. She looked from him to his assistant and the surprise turned to something else, something unreadable, even to Arthur who had known her for far longer than either wished to admit. “And I suppose we have Merlin to thank for that?” she asked coyly.
Arthur looked to Merlin and saw the same look of confusion writ across his face as he knew was writ across his own. Technically, the answer was yes as it was Merlin who opened his eyes to a few new things over the course of the past week. Technically, the answer was no as there were a great many thoughts Arthur knew had been playing around in the back of his head that were simply seeing the light, so to speak, for the first time.
He was saved from trying to put that all into words by the ringing of a phone. It was Morgana’s, of course, and she quickly forgot whatever she had been going on about with them to go on about something new with a friend of hers. He glanced over at Merlin once more and shrugged, earning a grin in return, and the two sipped the rest of their coffee in relative peace.
He went to bed that evening in an excellent mood. He had spent the day with good people planning good things, and having a bit of fun with it along the way. He could not imagine what could have possibly been better.
That mood was, of course, destroyed the next morning. He was confronted with protestors outside of the church denouncing his father’s ways. He noticed more than one wearing the logo of the Rainbow Coalition, but saw no sign of Will or Lance. Not that he necessarily expected to, especially after Friday night, but it still settled something in his heart nonetheless.
He winced when he heard the counter-protestors arrive, taking words from a combination of the scriptures and his father’s own speeches, and convoluting them to their needs. He was not ashamed to say he truly found refuge within the large stone building that day, the heavy wooden doors shutting out the rabble from outside.
His father’s sermon started out well, as they all did, but he knew from the glint in his eyes and the way the preacher never looked away from the doors except to stress certain passages that it was going to change sooner rather than later. Sure enough, it began.
Arthur tried to look like he was interested but somehow the words just did not ring true today. His time spent with Lance and Will had showed him not all gays were evil, and not all were the devil incarnate. If some were good, and not even misguided but truly good people who believed in love be it with each other or the world as a whole, how could they supposedly want for such darkness and hate? He had always believed that people’s choices were their own, everyone had the right to choose, but that point just seemed driven home that much more for some reason, and he was not sure why.
His father claimed these men had no such right, and to even think they did would bring about the destruction of everything everyone held dear. But if love is what you held dear, how could two people loving each other bring about its downfall?
Arthur hung his head and contemplated the hands he held in a near white-knuckled grasp in his lap. There were so many questions he had yet to answer, not the least of which was just when did he begin to question his father quite this much?
The ride into the Ministry the next morning seemed damningly quiet. Merlin had been able to pick up his car from the shop that weekend and technically did not need a ride any longer. Arthur found he missed the light banter and the way it started out his day with a bit of happiness and humour, something proving to be that much harder when the only thing he could find on the radio was a furious debate over the same sermon he was trying to forget.
He found himself in a foul mood for most of the day, even as he responded by rote to the hate mail and articles. Gwen tried to cheer him, but settled for commiserating with him instead, and Merlin seemed to be giving him a wide berth all together which certainly was not helping matters. Not that he blamed him. His father had just ripped his best friends’ lifestyle to shreds and Arthur had stood by as usual and replied as usual and quoted back as usual.
Arthur was finding that “the usual” just was not enough on this day, and he could not quite figure out why.
His father left for a meeting with a press advisor that afternoon. He had not been gone five minutes when Merlin appeared at his door, serious expression upon his face. Arthur was fairly certain he wished to leave early, and after a day of putting up with him he could rather understand why, but instead, Merlin simply began his customary report. What was not customary was the way he ended, in the same serious tone, “And the gay contingent, as voiced by two prominent members of the Rainbow Coalition, would like to state for the record that they cannot burn in hell as they are already flaming.”
Arthur had been only half-listening up to that point, but looked up sharply in surprise, only to be greeted with the wide smile of a thoroughly amused assistant. He found a grin of his own breaking out as he replied, “Do tell Lance and Will I say hello, won’t you?”
“Sure thing,” Merlin replied. He had lost the stiffness about his shoulders and leaned a bit against the chair opposite Arthur’s desk. “Just so you know, they have offered an open invitation for drinks any time you so choose. Will’s only requirement is that ‘the hideous jumper with the Camelot logo’ never sets foot in the flat again.”
“Duly noted,” Arthur said with a nod. A drink sounded more than welcome, but he had already made plans with Morgana and his father that evening, and could not back out simply for a vice.
Merlin did not seem hurt by the lack of immediate acceptance, nor did he seem surprised. He disappeared back to his own work with a tip of his head in acknowledgement, leaving Arthur alone with his thoughts once again. He returned to text on his computer with a sigh. Somehow though, the rest of the afternoon seemed to breeze on by.
When he next looked up, it was due to the little alarm he had set reminding him it was time to leave to meet his father. A glance out the door showed the rest of the office already darkened and closed down with nary a soul in sight. He shut down his own computer and nearly missed a note scribbled on a piece of scratch paper until his hand brushed against it in accident.
The Camelot logo was in one corner, but next to it was a hastily drawn sketch of a rainbow, the colours of the different pens uneven and a bit smeared. Underneath it was Merlin’s familiar scrawl. “’Night, Arthur. See you in the morning.” He smiled and shook his head, tucking the scrap into his desk drawer before locking everything up and leaving for the evening.
The dinner with his father was, as usual, as tense as it was productive. Morgana tried to convince him of her plans once more, and he made the right noises, but Arthur knew his father was only stalling and the look on Morgana’s face indicated she thought the same. Eventually, one of them would force the issue and there would be a final resolution, but that night was not to be tonight. Instead, he sat back, ate his chicken, and sipped his wine, wondering what his father’s reaction would be if Arthur actually vocally supported Morgana for a change.
He didn’t, of course. He didn’t rock the boat and he did toe the line and he did think of a thousand and one other clichés that would fit the situation. He then questioned why he made the choice he made, and was quite displeased when he could not come up with a sufficient answer to his own question.
He went to sleep that night wondering what Merlin and his friends would have to say on the subject, and then wondering when he even began to care.
The rest of the week went by as it always did, but the underlying tension Arthur felt did not go away. If anything, it seemed to ebb and grow and, considering he was not quite certain of the source, his frustration level increased as well. His father had just asked for his opinion on another sermon and then went with the opposite of what Arthur suggested and wandered away to rewrite a section when Merlin appeared in the doorway.
“You’re coming over tonight,” he declared. All week, he had said similar words, but always phrased it as a question. There was no request this time; it was almost an order instead.
“Am I?” he asked, arching his brow.
“Yep,” Merlin nodded. “You need a break from this place and this place needs a break from you. You’re coming over for a drink and junk food, and tomorrow we can go out for coffee with Morgana to clear our hangovers and work some more on her project.”
Arthur leaned back in his chair and tried not to smile. It sounded delightful, and like something he could most certainly benefit from, but he was not used to others making decisions for him - unless said other was his father, of course. “You have this all planned out then?”
“Of course,” Merlin replied with false nonchalance. “I am your assistant, after all.” He straightened his tie and pretended to be proper for a moment, but a goofy grin twitched at the edges of his lips. “Lance is ordering the take-out as we speak and Will’s picking up the Flake bars to dip in the brandy and I’m supposed to ask if there are any other snack foods we need for an evening of self-indulgence.”
Arthur contemplated that for a moment, schooling his own features into seriousness as he declared, “Hobnobs. You can never go wrong with Hobnobs.”
“Hobnobs it is then,” Merlin agreed. He gestured towards the door. “Now, come on then. You’re driving and I’m riding with you so I know you won’t run away.”
“I never run away from anything,” Arthur said, affronted. He grabbed his keys and jacket though, as if to prove his point.
“Sure you don’t,” Merlin rolled his eyes. He stepped out the door and nearly into Gwen who was passing by.
“Please say you are taking him out of here,” she huffed. Her eyes twinkled though, so Arthur knew he had not been too hard on her this past week.
“He’s taking me, but same thing,” Merlin assured her as he grabbed his own jacket.
“Thank God,” Gwen replied with a bit of melodrama. She softened it with a grin though, and a light push on Arthur’s shoulders towards the exit. “Out. Out with you both so I can finish up and head home myself.”
“What, you mean you don’t live here?” Arthur blinked innocently over his shoulder at her.
She laughed, true and sweet. “It just feels like it sometimes,” she told him. “Now, be gone with you!”
The night was just what he needed. Spicy food mixed with sharp drinks and new and interesting combinations of sweets and alcohol that he never would have thought to try. He tapered off to juice and tea by the end of the night to make certain he could drive home, but had a feeling the light-headedness, not to mention the light-heartedness, was from something other than a bottle.
He slept in the next morning and awoke to Morgana’s call to confirm where and when they should meet. The coffeehouse near the Ministry was mentioned, but he went with a whim and suggested the place near Merlin’s instead, citing the fact that Merlin had not yet picked up his car from the Ministry lot and it would be closer for him to walk. Arthur could always drive him to his car after coffee and he would have it for the next week once again.
If Morgana was surprised, she didn’t show it. She was also smart enough not to bring with anything bearing the Camelot logo as they sat in comfortable chairs and sipped at coffee that was far smoother and richer than the place by the Ministry had to offer. They bounced ideas off of each other and came up with a tentative outline for what would be needed to get her group off the ground, both shying away from mentioning the largest roadblock of Uther himself. Merlin sat at their sides, adding a thought or two when needed, organizing their myriad of ideas, and randomly laughing like the over-caffeinated fool he was.
Arthur smiled fondly over to him and caught Morgana doing the same. He knew without her pointing it out that he was in a far better mood than he had been in all week. He also knew without her pointed looks just who was responsible for that.
And that is what started what became a pattern of sorts. Every week began with his father’s sermons, and every week ended with drinks and bad take-out food with Merlin, Lance, and Will. Sometimes the bad take-out was joined with worse movies, but always proved to be a relaxing, and usually hilarious time.
Saturdays were for refocusing and easing back into the Ministry mindset. He’d sleep in and join Morgana for coffee or tea and further discussion of her plans. He surprised her by agreeing with her and with coming up with ways to budget for half the things she wanted, telling her she’d need to scale back some of the others or find another source of income. Merlin surprised her by digging up copies of some of the paperwork that she would need, the same forms supposedly unattainable when she had asked Uther several months before. Before long, it looked like her supposedly harebrained idea might just make it to the light of day after all.
Uther took Arthur to the side one Wednesday evening several weeks in to his new routine. “I am becoming concerned that Morgana’s fancy is becoming something more than that,” he said without preamble.
“She seems to have found a few solid ideas to build from,” Arthur hedged.
“And there’s no way to turn her back?” his father asked. He must have suspected the answer as he then mused, “Perhaps there’s a way to bring this centre of hers back under the control of the Ministry. She’ll need the funding and we can use that as leverage to get her away from some of the more, shall we say ‘out there’ ideas she has.” He turned to Arthur, eyes sharp as a knife, and asked, “Did you know she wants to open the place to homosexuals? She claims to believe they can still find God and go about their merry way.”
Arthur knew full well what her plans were, as well as where she obtained some of them. Instead, voice as innocent as he could make it, he countered with, “But father, even you claim homosexuals can find salvation if they try.”
His father scoffed. “Not many try and far too many only put on the face of belief, still thinking they can go about their illicit ways and not be judged.”
Arthur dutifully nodded, but could not help but wonder just who was doing the judging.
His father had moved on to other matters though, namely Merlin. “You seem to be spending a lot of time with that boy,” he commented.
“He’s a friend,” Arthur replied, as it was true.
His father gave him a look as though he were daft. “Men do not have ‘friends’ of the male persuasion, especially not of such vastly different social standing, and especially not men of God having ‘friends’ who live amongst those who have less than Godly ways. He is a colleague, nothing more. Do try to remember that.”
Arthur bristled at his father once again writing off Merlin so easily, but knew better than to show it. Instead, he asked, “Did not Jesus have friends, both male and female?”
“Jesus had disciples and converts,” his father corrected. He was drawn away by a phone call from yet another news station wishing to interview him. Arthur could not say he was sorry for the conversation to end.
He spent that night wondering why his father’s dismissal meant so much to him. Merlin was, technically, his assistant and nothing more. He also, beyond technicality, was fast becoming one of the best friends Arthur ever had the privilege of having. The man had wormed his way into a spot in Arthur’s life, and he could not see just cutting that away, whatever his father had to say on the subject. He saw nothing wrong with it. They were simply two men who both worked together and got together at the end of a long workweek to relax with other friends. He was fairly certain that was how the majority of society functioned outside of his father’s increasingly odd ideals. He was also fairly certain he had not stopped to question let alone actively choose to go against his father quite so much ever before.
He continued to think about it through Thursday, finding himself distracted from some of the more mundane things he needed to do. He resolved to ask about it on Friday, only to find Merlin was, once again, late.
He got a call about an hour later from a very apologetic assistant. “Sorry, was going to ring you, but kept getting put on hold by the police,” Merlin sighed.
“Police?” Arthur asked with concern, suddenly far more alert than he had been. “Are you okay? Did you need someone to meet you at hospital?”
There was a heavy sigh on the other end of the line. “Nothing quite so dramatic. It would appear than my car, the one I just paid so much to repair, has been stolen,” Merlin announced with very little emotion.
“I’m sorry,” Arthur said, and fully meant it. He paused and added, “You seem to be taking this well?”
“Oh no,” Merlin laughed humourlessly. “You gotten to me at the ‘resolution’ part of the emotional roller coaster. You missed the series of ‘fuck, shite, bloody hell’ and other far more inventive cursing,” he assured him.
Arthur chuckled and shook his head. “Did you want a ride in, or did you want the day off to deal with the police and everything else?” he offered. Gwen had been walking by and paused in the doorway, a concerned look about her face. “Merlin,” he mouthed at her and her eyes grew wide.
“I think I need the day to sort this out, but I might need a ride come Monday, if that’s okay with you?” Merlin asked.
“Of course,” Arthur told him. He said the necessary goodbyes and hung up to explain to the patiently waiting Gwen that Merlin had not actually been arrested, but instead was the victim of theft.
“Poor thing,” she frowned. “Are you going over to his place tonight? Because I’d appreciate it if you could drop off some Flake bars in sympathy from me.”
Arthur blinked at both Gwen knowing his now usual routine, and knowing Merlin’s less than secret vice. She didn’t seem bothered by it in the least, not that he thought she would be, really, but for some reason it just drove home the point how ingrained his friend had become in his life that his other friends simply expected it of him.
Gwen had wandered off, probably to get the bars after assuming he would say yes, and Arthur was once again left alone with his thoughts. He resolutely did not want to think of the panic that shot through him at the thought that something far more horrendous than vehicle theft had happened to Merlin, so instead he focused on just what he could do to make the situation right again.
Sadly, he was drawing a blank. Aside from bearing chocolate, coffee, and booze, he could not think of anything to make it better. With a sigh, he pulled up the internet and started looking for used car dealerships, wondering both what Merlin could afford and what he would even like to drive.
By the time the night rolled around, he was armed with a bottle of Pimms, a bag of beans, printouts from the dealerships, and a handful of Flake bars as donated by Gwen and Morgana. Sitting atop it all was a tiny wind-up car he had seen in the window of the toy story next to the coffee shop and had bought on a whim.
He showed up at Merlin’s flat just a bit later than what had become his usual time, and was greeted by a widely smiling Will. “You know him well,” he laughed, taking part of the load and gesturing Arthur through into the flat proper.
Lance had apparently come to similar conclusions as Arthur, sans toy car, as both he and Merlin were sprawled out on the floor with an empty bottle on the desk and little foil wrappers scattered around them. “Hi, Arthur!” Merlin waved in greeting, reminding him that his assistant was not the one with the highest tolerance of the group.
“Why don’t I go order some take-out and get those two sobered up enough for conversation?” Will suggested. He spread out menus from the fridge like a dealer with cards, and let Arthur take a random pick. A shrug, a nod, and he placed the order, not bothering to ask the other two what they wanted and probably figuring they would eat what was given.
Arthur paid for the food, though it technically was Merlin’s turn. He only thought it fair and no one commented as they spread the greasy goodness out on plates for all to enjoy. Merlin ate with little coaxing and Lance proved he was not quite as far gone as he had pretended to be and Arthur noted he drank a glass of water for every shot or bottle of beer, though Will stopped doing so about halfway through the night.
Later, when Merlin was snoring softly against the arm of the couch and the trio started picking up the detritus of the night’s activities, Lance smacked Arthur on the arm and offered him a cup of rather strong coffee, arguing he needed to counteract the alcohol or sleep there for the night. As Arthur sipped at the brew, he found his thoughts, much like his gaze, kept slipping back over to Merlin. He was safe, he was sound, and yeah, he was out a car, but the important things were there, so Arthur could not understand why he could not shake off the concern.
It probably did not help that Arthur discovered Merlin had been headed for the thing when the robbery occurred. There was the chance the thief could have been armed, and everything could have gone so much more wrong, but in the end, all it amounted to was a ticked off assistant who was likely to have one hell of a hangover come morning.
There was a clearing of a throat beside him and he looked to see Lance catching him in the act again. “He’s fine, you know. Pissed, in every sense of the word, but fine,” Lance assured him.
“I know,” Arthur swore, though he was not sure if he was trying to convince himself or his friend. He finished his coffee and offered, “Do you need help getting him back to his room?”
“Nah,” Will waved him off. “He can sleep there tonight and stumble to bed himself when he’s sober enough to find it.”
Figuring they knew better than him, Arthur nodded. He helped clean up the last of it and tugged one of the afghans over Merlin’s snuffling form. Satisfied there was nothing more he could do, he said his goodbyes and went home.
That weekend, he slept far later than usual, woken only by Morgana physically sitting at the side of his bed and cackling about his hangover as she offered him aspirin and water. The usual coffee date was called off as Merlin was apparently in even worse shape than Arthur, and Arthur spent the remainder of the day trying to feel like something other than the gum stuck to the bottom of someone’s shoe.
His father’s sermon pointedly mentioned vice and alcohol in particular and Arthur felt like there was a giant spotlight on him throughout it all. Morgana cheerfully invited him dinner and drinks in front of his father, and he did not know whether to hug her or stick his tongue out at her like he did when he was little. He begged off and had a quiet supper alone, waiting to see what the next week would bring.
Things went surprisingly well after that. He was still moody when he picked up Merlin the next morning, but could not fight the smile upon his face by the time they reached the Ministry. Merlin regaled him with stories of near death via hangover and how Will and Lance were less than sympathetic, but that he did find bottles of paracetamol and water all over the flat for the rest of the weekend. Arthur shared the fun experience of Morgana and his father, and received all the right sympathetic noises in return.
The week flew by and soon enough it was time again for the Friday night at the flat. Lance and Will were preparing for a large event hosted by the Rainbow Coalition and it served as a reminder that the yearly Pride festival was approaching. Arthur had only ever really taken note before as it being the time of the year his father’s speeches focused on a certain segment of the population and how they were all going to burn in hell for the evil they perpetrated, but as he watched Lance and Will figure out the finishing touches for a float as well as a table in the park, he realised it was something far more than a sermon topic.
Conversation that night turned to gay rights, something usually avoided during their weekly get-togethers. Arthur wasn’t sure if they wanted to protect him, or were afraid of the views he would have on the subject matter. Instead, he found himself intrigued by their arguments and their casual lectures on both how far they had come and how far they still had to go for equality and understanding from the wider community.
It did not seem right that a group was persecuted for what they felt was an undeniable part of themselves, and the theologian in him could not help but draw parallels between current events and past persecutions. He briefly wondered what his father would say, but pushed the thought away. The last thing he wanted was for his father’s views to dampen the evening.
Lance and Will were both so open about everything that Arthur felt at ease to ask questions knowing he would get an honest, if occasionally snarky, answer. There was one question he had not intended to ask, not wanting to pry quite that much, but found it came out nearly by accident, and then found it really had been in the back of his mind for far too long. “How did you know?” he asked as he grabbed the plates to bring to the kitchen.
“That I was gay, or that Will was the one for me?” Lance replied without blinking. Will had paused at his side, waiting and expectant.
“Either. Both,” Arthur replied. He was not quite certain what he intended to ask, let alone how to phrase it.
Lance looked at him with an intensity he was not used to coming from the usually congenial man. The gaze softened slightly, and there was a slight gleam to his eyes that let Arthur know he took no offence as he mused, “Well, there was the whole attraction to the male penis thing.”
“Unlike his attraction to the female penis, which was, like, totally non-existent,” Will chimed in with a grin.
Arthur shook his head and smiled, knowing he should have expected no less. “I suppose that would be telling,” he agreed with a laugh.
“It’s just something you know, something you feel,” Lance shrugged as he took the plates from him and set them in the sink. “You find someone you like and you know they are the one for you.”
Will leaned against the doorway, arms crossed in front of him with an almost forced air of casualness about him. “You start wanting to spend more time with them, find reasons to hang out with them, can’t think about doing something without thinking if he’d like it as well, that sort of thing,” he explained.
“You worry about them, wonder if they are doing okay, if they need anything, think about them more than you think about you,” Lance added. He knocked his shoulder against Will’s with a small smile.
“You don’t think about gender, or if they have a dick between their legs, you think about how they make you feel and if you want to keep feeling that way,” Will shrugged. He turned to wink at Lance though as he whispered, “But I really do like that dick between your legs, just so you know.”
“It’s a nice dick,” Lance mused. “It likes to be liked.”
“It likes a lot of things that I seem to hear about at all hours of the night,” Merlin called in from the other room, though there was no heat to his words. Arthur noted it was the first time he had really joined in with any of the gay topics. He also noted he had never asked what Merlin’s personal preference was, one way or the other, and truly had no clues as to such. He wondered if he should ask, or if that would be way too personal of a topic for someone working as his assistant, friend or no. He then wondered why he even wondered in the first place.
That night left him once again alone with his thoughts. It seemed to be happening more and more lately. He questioned his father, found solace in friends he would have shied away from only a year before. He questioned quite a few other things, honestly. Like why he wanted to know these things, why he wanted to know more than just what a newspaper or sermon could tell him.
His father would tell him it was the corruption and vileness attacking his soul should he ask, and he found himself quite unwilling to do so. Morgana told him you could never question the heart, even if it took you places you never thought you would be, which was not particularly helpful. Gwen told him God ruled all and that he had to trust that He would show the way to happiness, in whatever form He so chose. Merlin said nothing as, much like with his father, Arthur was afraid of the answer he would receive.
~~~~~~~~~~
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This entry was originally posted at http://cat-77.dreamwidth.org/284548.html. Current comments
Genre: AU, Slash and Pre-Slash
Pairings: Arthur/Merlin (pre-slash), Lance/Will, slight Arthur/Gwen
Length: ~22,000 words
Rating: R
Warnings: Depictions of homophobia and the aftermath of violence. The rating is due to this more than any sexual overtones.
Synopsis: “And now these three remain: faith, hope, and love. But the greatest of these is love.” 1 Corinthians 13:13
Prompt: 2121. Merlin, Merlin/Arthur, AU: Uther Pendragon is the head preacher at Camelot Ministries -- the American-style anti-LGBT mega-church that has become popular in Britain. Arthur knows that he's expected to marry Gwen and take over from his father one day -- but when Merlin Emrys is assigned to work as his clerical assistant, Arthur is forced to confront the fact that he is gay.
Author’s Notes: Written for lgbtfest. I hope I did the subject matter justice.
Disclaimer: I do not own this interpretation of the myths and am making no profit from this.
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~~~~~~~~~~
The next morning he questioned those horizons. He was not hung over, he made certain enough that he was in fit shape to drive home, but he was still bone tired when his father came knocking on his door far too early in the morning for a civil conversation.
His father, as per usual, simply pressed on ahead with whatever was on his mind, this time the phrasing of a point he wished to make in Sunday’s sermon, until something finally clicked and he paused and asked, “Are you ill?”
“Wha-?” Arthur managed around a yawn.
“Ill,” his father repeated. He pressed a hand to his son’s forehead and said, “You have no fever, but the shadows under your eyes are quite impressive. Do you need to see a physician?”
Arthur pushed himself up against his pillows, knowing his father held true on his threats and he did not want any excuse to be poked, prodded, and pricked just because he happened to get less sleep than normal. “Just tired is all,” he insisted around another yawn.
“You did return quite late last night; I trust there was nothing wrong?” his father asked.
Arthur shook his head, remembering the evening of frank discussion and damned good drinks. He had blushed more than once, but Merlin and his friends had taken pity on him and refrained from indulging fully in some of the more bawdy topics suggested. “No, just got caught up talking with Merlin and his roommate when I dropped him off is all.”
“Merlin seems like a good enough lad, though a bit daft at times,” his father mused. “Though I cannot see what you two would have in common enough to discuss for a car ride, let alone an evening’s conversation.”
For some reason, Arthur felt his hackles rise at that. Perhaps it was his father’s casual dismissal of the man as unimportant, or perhaps it was that Arthur had grown to see Merlin as friend instead of an employee over the past week. He kept his tone calm and neutral though as he knew his father far too well. “Actually, we discussed some of his previous volunteering work as well as some ideas he has to help out with Morgana’s outreach idea. I was going to discuss that with her later today, or maybe we should have Merlin over for dinner so he can discuss it himself in a more informal fashion.”
That might have been pushing it, and he knew it. The dinner would force his father to be polite and actually treat Merlin as an equal in conversation. However, discussing it at the Ministry made it a more formal matter that would need to be logged. Logging it meant it went in the books as more than Morgana’s passing fancy and as an allocation of resources as Merlin was assigned to Arthur’s duties. It would be that much harder for his father to ignore the matter, either way, which of course led to his father’s next words.
“Hmm, perhaps the three of you could go out for coffee or whatever it is that is popular these days,” Uther said with just that touch too much of casual to be real. Then, with a hint of the levity Arthur was beginning to miss in him, he added, “Though I do fear to see the boy more caffeinated than usual. You may need to find a track for him to run around on to wear off that energy.”
Arthur smiled and found it matched in turn. “I’ll call both of them and see what we can arrange,” he promised.
“Do try to avoid that area of his,” his father said, making a face. “I had his address reviewed when he was hired. Though it is honourable that he lives in the area that could most benefit from our attentions, there is no need to dally there.”
The smile upon Arthur’s face grew more forced, but he was determined to keep it there. So his father knew Merlin lived in a predominately homosexual neighbourhood. That was news to him. He idly wondered what his father’s reaction would be if he told him he spent last night in a gay man’s trousers, but thought better of actually speaking that part out loud. It was incredibly tempting, even though he had made a resolution to try not to purposely set his father off years ago. He was not sure why the urge was so strong, and he did not even have the excuse of drunkenness to fall back on as he truly did not consume that much the night before.
Finally, his father stood and headed towards the door. “Arthur,” his father chided as Arthur yawned once more, “Try to get some rest first. You look awful.”
Arthur nodded and, like the dutiful son he was, prepared to do just that.
He met Merlin and Morgana later that afternoon at a small shop near the Ministry. He found Merlin had some decent ideas that Morgana latched on to and made even grander, until both men tried to get her to scale it back. They argued that the grandness was admirable, but to be able to sell the idea, they needed to start off small and grow from there. Morgana did not like it, but reluctantly agreed.
She sat back in her chair after a while and seemed content to watch the two men as they watched the rest of the world go by the large front window on yet another drizzly day. “So what started all this then?” she asked as she sipped her second latte of the afternoon.
“All what?” Arthur asked distractedly. There was a man out front berating a young couple for holding hands on the street or some other foolish thing. The two lads had just rolled their eyes and walked away, but the man was still going on about it long after they had wandered off.
“This sudden interest in things other than ancient scriptures or Uther’s teachings,” Morgana replied, never quite being willing to call her foster father by anything other than his given name. He forced himself to look away from the window and focus instead on what she was saying.
He held his cup of coffee in his hands and smirked depreciatingly. “It has recently come to my attention that there are some things I simply do not know about and I am trying to rectify that. Not knowing about your programme is but the least of it, but I felt it was a place to start.”
Morgana raised an eyebrow in what Arthur had learned was often a sign of genuine surprise. She looked from him to his assistant and the surprise turned to something else, something unreadable, even to Arthur who had known her for far longer than either wished to admit. “And I suppose we have Merlin to thank for that?” she asked coyly.
Arthur looked to Merlin and saw the same look of confusion writ across his face as he knew was writ across his own. Technically, the answer was yes as it was Merlin who opened his eyes to a few new things over the course of the past week. Technically, the answer was no as there were a great many thoughts Arthur knew had been playing around in the back of his head that were simply seeing the light, so to speak, for the first time.
He was saved from trying to put that all into words by the ringing of a phone. It was Morgana’s, of course, and she quickly forgot whatever she had been going on about with them to go on about something new with a friend of hers. He glanced over at Merlin once more and shrugged, earning a grin in return, and the two sipped the rest of their coffee in relative peace.
He went to bed that evening in an excellent mood. He had spent the day with good people planning good things, and having a bit of fun with it along the way. He could not imagine what could have possibly been better.
That mood was, of course, destroyed the next morning. He was confronted with protestors outside of the church denouncing his father’s ways. He noticed more than one wearing the logo of the Rainbow Coalition, but saw no sign of Will or Lance. Not that he necessarily expected to, especially after Friday night, but it still settled something in his heart nonetheless.
He winced when he heard the counter-protestors arrive, taking words from a combination of the scriptures and his father’s own speeches, and convoluting them to their needs. He was not ashamed to say he truly found refuge within the large stone building that day, the heavy wooden doors shutting out the rabble from outside.
His father’s sermon started out well, as they all did, but he knew from the glint in his eyes and the way the preacher never looked away from the doors except to stress certain passages that it was going to change sooner rather than later. Sure enough, it began.
Arthur tried to look like he was interested but somehow the words just did not ring true today. His time spent with Lance and Will had showed him not all gays were evil, and not all were the devil incarnate. If some were good, and not even misguided but truly good people who believed in love be it with each other or the world as a whole, how could they supposedly want for such darkness and hate? He had always believed that people’s choices were their own, everyone had the right to choose, but that point just seemed driven home that much more for some reason, and he was not sure why.
His father claimed these men had no such right, and to even think they did would bring about the destruction of everything everyone held dear. But if love is what you held dear, how could two people loving each other bring about its downfall?
Arthur hung his head and contemplated the hands he held in a near white-knuckled grasp in his lap. There were so many questions he had yet to answer, not the least of which was just when did he begin to question his father quite this much?
The ride into the Ministry the next morning seemed damningly quiet. Merlin had been able to pick up his car from the shop that weekend and technically did not need a ride any longer. Arthur found he missed the light banter and the way it started out his day with a bit of happiness and humour, something proving to be that much harder when the only thing he could find on the radio was a furious debate over the same sermon he was trying to forget.
He found himself in a foul mood for most of the day, even as he responded by rote to the hate mail and articles. Gwen tried to cheer him, but settled for commiserating with him instead, and Merlin seemed to be giving him a wide berth all together which certainly was not helping matters. Not that he blamed him. His father had just ripped his best friends’ lifestyle to shreds and Arthur had stood by as usual and replied as usual and quoted back as usual.
Arthur was finding that “the usual” just was not enough on this day, and he could not quite figure out why.
His father left for a meeting with a press advisor that afternoon. He had not been gone five minutes when Merlin appeared at his door, serious expression upon his face. Arthur was fairly certain he wished to leave early, and after a day of putting up with him he could rather understand why, but instead, Merlin simply began his customary report. What was not customary was the way he ended, in the same serious tone, “And the gay contingent, as voiced by two prominent members of the Rainbow Coalition, would like to state for the record that they cannot burn in hell as they are already flaming.”
Arthur had been only half-listening up to that point, but looked up sharply in surprise, only to be greeted with the wide smile of a thoroughly amused assistant. He found a grin of his own breaking out as he replied, “Do tell Lance and Will I say hello, won’t you?”
“Sure thing,” Merlin replied. He had lost the stiffness about his shoulders and leaned a bit against the chair opposite Arthur’s desk. “Just so you know, they have offered an open invitation for drinks any time you so choose. Will’s only requirement is that ‘the hideous jumper with the Camelot logo’ never sets foot in the flat again.”
“Duly noted,” Arthur said with a nod. A drink sounded more than welcome, but he had already made plans with Morgana and his father that evening, and could not back out simply for a vice.
Merlin did not seem hurt by the lack of immediate acceptance, nor did he seem surprised. He disappeared back to his own work with a tip of his head in acknowledgement, leaving Arthur alone with his thoughts once again. He returned to text on his computer with a sigh. Somehow though, the rest of the afternoon seemed to breeze on by.
When he next looked up, it was due to the little alarm he had set reminding him it was time to leave to meet his father. A glance out the door showed the rest of the office already darkened and closed down with nary a soul in sight. He shut down his own computer and nearly missed a note scribbled on a piece of scratch paper until his hand brushed against it in accident.
The Camelot logo was in one corner, but next to it was a hastily drawn sketch of a rainbow, the colours of the different pens uneven and a bit smeared. Underneath it was Merlin’s familiar scrawl. “’Night, Arthur. See you in the morning.” He smiled and shook his head, tucking the scrap into his desk drawer before locking everything up and leaving for the evening.
The dinner with his father was, as usual, as tense as it was productive. Morgana tried to convince him of her plans once more, and he made the right noises, but Arthur knew his father was only stalling and the look on Morgana’s face indicated she thought the same. Eventually, one of them would force the issue and there would be a final resolution, but that night was not to be tonight. Instead, he sat back, ate his chicken, and sipped his wine, wondering what his father’s reaction would be if Arthur actually vocally supported Morgana for a change.
He didn’t, of course. He didn’t rock the boat and he did toe the line and he did think of a thousand and one other clichés that would fit the situation. He then questioned why he made the choice he made, and was quite displeased when he could not come up with a sufficient answer to his own question.
He went to sleep that night wondering what Merlin and his friends would have to say on the subject, and then wondering when he even began to care.
The rest of the week went by as it always did, but the underlying tension Arthur felt did not go away. If anything, it seemed to ebb and grow and, considering he was not quite certain of the source, his frustration level increased as well. His father had just asked for his opinion on another sermon and then went with the opposite of what Arthur suggested and wandered away to rewrite a section when Merlin appeared in the doorway.
“You’re coming over tonight,” he declared. All week, he had said similar words, but always phrased it as a question. There was no request this time; it was almost an order instead.
“Am I?” he asked, arching his brow.
“Yep,” Merlin nodded. “You need a break from this place and this place needs a break from you. You’re coming over for a drink and junk food, and tomorrow we can go out for coffee with Morgana to clear our hangovers and work some more on her project.”
Arthur leaned back in his chair and tried not to smile. It sounded delightful, and like something he could most certainly benefit from, but he was not used to others making decisions for him - unless said other was his father, of course. “You have this all planned out then?”
“Of course,” Merlin replied with false nonchalance. “I am your assistant, after all.” He straightened his tie and pretended to be proper for a moment, but a goofy grin twitched at the edges of his lips. “Lance is ordering the take-out as we speak and Will’s picking up the Flake bars to dip in the brandy and I’m supposed to ask if there are any other snack foods we need for an evening of self-indulgence.”
Arthur contemplated that for a moment, schooling his own features into seriousness as he declared, “Hobnobs. You can never go wrong with Hobnobs.”
“Hobnobs it is then,” Merlin agreed. He gestured towards the door. “Now, come on then. You’re driving and I’m riding with you so I know you won’t run away.”
“I never run away from anything,” Arthur said, affronted. He grabbed his keys and jacket though, as if to prove his point.
“Sure you don’t,” Merlin rolled his eyes. He stepped out the door and nearly into Gwen who was passing by.
“Please say you are taking him out of here,” she huffed. Her eyes twinkled though, so Arthur knew he had not been too hard on her this past week.
“He’s taking me, but same thing,” Merlin assured her as he grabbed his own jacket.
“Thank God,” Gwen replied with a bit of melodrama. She softened it with a grin though, and a light push on Arthur’s shoulders towards the exit. “Out. Out with you both so I can finish up and head home myself.”
“What, you mean you don’t live here?” Arthur blinked innocently over his shoulder at her.
She laughed, true and sweet. “It just feels like it sometimes,” she told him. “Now, be gone with you!”
The night was just what he needed. Spicy food mixed with sharp drinks and new and interesting combinations of sweets and alcohol that he never would have thought to try. He tapered off to juice and tea by the end of the night to make certain he could drive home, but had a feeling the light-headedness, not to mention the light-heartedness, was from something other than a bottle.
He slept in the next morning and awoke to Morgana’s call to confirm where and when they should meet. The coffeehouse near the Ministry was mentioned, but he went with a whim and suggested the place near Merlin’s instead, citing the fact that Merlin had not yet picked up his car from the Ministry lot and it would be closer for him to walk. Arthur could always drive him to his car after coffee and he would have it for the next week once again.
If Morgana was surprised, she didn’t show it. She was also smart enough not to bring with anything bearing the Camelot logo as they sat in comfortable chairs and sipped at coffee that was far smoother and richer than the place by the Ministry had to offer. They bounced ideas off of each other and came up with a tentative outline for what would be needed to get her group off the ground, both shying away from mentioning the largest roadblock of Uther himself. Merlin sat at their sides, adding a thought or two when needed, organizing their myriad of ideas, and randomly laughing like the over-caffeinated fool he was.
Arthur smiled fondly over to him and caught Morgana doing the same. He knew without her pointing it out that he was in a far better mood than he had been in all week. He also knew without her pointed looks just who was responsible for that.
And that is what started what became a pattern of sorts. Every week began with his father’s sermons, and every week ended with drinks and bad take-out food with Merlin, Lance, and Will. Sometimes the bad take-out was joined with worse movies, but always proved to be a relaxing, and usually hilarious time.
Saturdays were for refocusing and easing back into the Ministry mindset. He’d sleep in and join Morgana for coffee or tea and further discussion of her plans. He surprised her by agreeing with her and with coming up with ways to budget for half the things she wanted, telling her she’d need to scale back some of the others or find another source of income. Merlin surprised her by digging up copies of some of the paperwork that she would need, the same forms supposedly unattainable when she had asked Uther several months before. Before long, it looked like her supposedly harebrained idea might just make it to the light of day after all.
Uther took Arthur to the side one Wednesday evening several weeks in to his new routine. “I am becoming concerned that Morgana’s fancy is becoming something more than that,” he said without preamble.
“She seems to have found a few solid ideas to build from,” Arthur hedged.
“And there’s no way to turn her back?” his father asked. He must have suspected the answer as he then mused, “Perhaps there’s a way to bring this centre of hers back under the control of the Ministry. She’ll need the funding and we can use that as leverage to get her away from some of the more, shall we say ‘out there’ ideas she has.” He turned to Arthur, eyes sharp as a knife, and asked, “Did you know she wants to open the place to homosexuals? She claims to believe they can still find God and go about their merry way.”
Arthur knew full well what her plans were, as well as where she obtained some of them. Instead, voice as innocent as he could make it, he countered with, “But father, even you claim homosexuals can find salvation if they try.”
His father scoffed. “Not many try and far too many only put on the face of belief, still thinking they can go about their illicit ways and not be judged.”
Arthur dutifully nodded, but could not help but wonder just who was doing the judging.
His father had moved on to other matters though, namely Merlin. “You seem to be spending a lot of time with that boy,” he commented.
“He’s a friend,” Arthur replied, as it was true.
His father gave him a look as though he were daft. “Men do not have ‘friends’ of the male persuasion, especially not of such vastly different social standing, and especially not men of God having ‘friends’ who live amongst those who have less than Godly ways. He is a colleague, nothing more. Do try to remember that.”
Arthur bristled at his father once again writing off Merlin so easily, but knew better than to show it. Instead, he asked, “Did not Jesus have friends, both male and female?”
“Jesus had disciples and converts,” his father corrected. He was drawn away by a phone call from yet another news station wishing to interview him. Arthur could not say he was sorry for the conversation to end.
He spent that night wondering why his father’s dismissal meant so much to him. Merlin was, technically, his assistant and nothing more. He also, beyond technicality, was fast becoming one of the best friends Arthur ever had the privilege of having. The man had wormed his way into a spot in Arthur’s life, and he could not see just cutting that away, whatever his father had to say on the subject. He saw nothing wrong with it. They were simply two men who both worked together and got together at the end of a long workweek to relax with other friends. He was fairly certain that was how the majority of society functioned outside of his father’s increasingly odd ideals. He was also fairly certain he had not stopped to question let alone actively choose to go against his father quite so much ever before.
He continued to think about it through Thursday, finding himself distracted from some of the more mundane things he needed to do. He resolved to ask about it on Friday, only to find Merlin was, once again, late.
He got a call about an hour later from a very apologetic assistant. “Sorry, was going to ring you, but kept getting put on hold by the police,” Merlin sighed.
“Police?” Arthur asked with concern, suddenly far more alert than he had been. “Are you okay? Did you need someone to meet you at hospital?”
There was a heavy sigh on the other end of the line. “Nothing quite so dramatic. It would appear than my car, the one I just paid so much to repair, has been stolen,” Merlin announced with very little emotion.
“I’m sorry,” Arthur said, and fully meant it. He paused and added, “You seem to be taking this well?”
“Oh no,” Merlin laughed humourlessly. “You gotten to me at the ‘resolution’ part of the emotional roller coaster. You missed the series of ‘fuck, shite, bloody hell’ and other far more inventive cursing,” he assured him.
Arthur chuckled and shook his head. “Did you want a ride in, or did you want the day off to deal with the police and everything else?” he offered. Gwen had been walking by and paused in the doorway, a concerned look about her face. “Merlin,” he mouthed at her and her eyes grew wide.
“I think I need the day to sort this out, but I might need a ride come Monday, if that’s okay with you?” Merlin asked.
“Of course,” Arthur told him. He said the necessary goodbyes and hung up to explain to the patiently waiting Gwen that Merlin had not actually been arrested, but instead was the victim of theft.
“Poor thing,” she frowned. “Are you going over to his place tonight? Because I’d appreciate it if you could drop off some Flake bars in sympathy from me.”
Arthur blinked at both Gwen knowing his now usual routine, and knowing Merlin’s less than secret vice. She didn’t seem bothered by it in the least, not that he thought she would be, really, but for some reason it just drove home the point how ingrained his friend had become in his life that his other friends simply expected it of him.
Gwen had wandered off, probably to get the bars after assuming he would say yes, and Arthur was once again left alone with his thoughts. He resolutely did not want to think of the panic that shot through him at the thought that something far more horrendous than vehicle theft had happened to Merlin, so instead he focused on just what he could do to make the situation right again.
Sadly, he was drawing a blank. Aside from bearing chocolate, coffee, and booze, he could not think of anything to make it better. With a sigh, he pulled up the internet and started looking for used car dealerships, wondering both what Merlin could afford and what he would even like to drive.
By the time the night rolled around, he was armed with a bottle of Pimms, a bag of beans, printouts from the dealerships, and a handful of Flake bars as donated by Gwen and Morgana. Sitting atop it all was a tiny wind-up car he had seen in the window of the toy story next to the coffee shop and had bought on a whim.
He showed up at Merlin’s flat just a bit later than what had become his usual time, and was greeted by a widely smiling Will. “You know him well,” he laughed, taking part of the load and gesturing Arthur through into the flat proper.
Lance had apparently come to similar conclusions as Arthur, sans toy car, as both he and Merlin were sprawled out on the floor with an empty bottle on the desk and little foil wrappers scattered around them. “Hi, Arthur!” Merlin waved in greeting, reminding him that his assistant was not the one with the highest tolerance of the group.
“Why don’t I go order some take-out and get those two sobered up enough for conversation?” Will suggested. He spread out menus from the fridge like a dealer with cards, and let Arthur take a random pick. A shrug, a nod, and he placed the order, not bothering to ask the other two what they wanted and probably figuring they would eat what was given.
Arthur paid for the food, though it technically was Merlin’s turn. He only thought it fair and no one commented as they spread the greasy goodness out on plates for all to enjoy. Merlin ate with little coaxing and Lance proved he was not quite as far gone as he had pretended to be and Arthur noted he drank a glass of water for every shot or bottle of beer, though Will stopped doing so about halfway through the night.
Later, when Merlin was snoring softly against the arm of the couch and the trio started picking up the detritus of the night’s activities, Lance smacked Arthur on the arm and offered him a cup of rather strong coffee, arguing he needed to counteract the alcohol or sleep there for the night. As Arthur sipped at the brew, he found his thoughts, much like his gaze, kept slipping back over to Merlin. He was safe, he was sound, and yeah, he was out a car, but the important things were there, so Arthur could not understand why he could not shake off the concern.
It probably did not help that Arthur discovered Merlin had been headed for the thing when the robbery occurred. There was the chance the thief could have been armed, and everything could have gone so much more wrong, but in the end, all it amounted to was a ticked off assistant who was likely to have one hell of a hangover come morning.
There was a clearing of a throat beside him and he looked to see Lance catching him in the act again. “He’s fine, you know. Pissed, in every sense of the word, but fine,” Lance assured him.
“I know,” Arthur swore, though he was not sure if he was trying to convince himself or his friend. He finished his coffee and offered, “Do you need help getting him back to his room?”
“Nah,” Will waved him off. “He can sleep there tonight and stumble to bed himself when he’s sober enough to find it.”
Figuring they knew better than him, Arthur nodded. He helped clean up the last of it and tugged one of the afghans over Merlin’s snuffling form. Satisfied there was nothing more he could do, he said his goodbyes and went home.
That weekend, he slept far later than usual, woken only by Morgana physically sitting at the side of his bed and cackling about his hangover as she offered him aspirin and water. The usual coffee date was called off as Merlin was apparently in even worse shape than Arthur, and Arthur spent the remainder of the day trying to feel like something other than the gum stuck to the bottom of someone’s shoe.
His father’s sermon pointedly mentioned vice and alcohol in particular and Arthur felt like there was a giant spotlight on him throughout it all. Morgana cheerfully invited him dinner and drinks in front of his father, and he did not know whether to hug her or stick his tongue out at her like he did when he was little. He begged off and had a quiet supper alone, waiting to see what the next week would bring.
Things went surprisingly well after that. He was still moody when he picked up Merlin the next morning, but could not fight the smile upon his face by the time they reached the Ministry. Merlin regaled him with stories of near death via hangover and how Will and Lance were less than sympathetic, but that he did find bottles of paracetamol and water all over the flat for the rest of the weekend. Arthur shared the fun experience of Morgana and his father, and received all the right sympathetic noises in return.
The week flew by and soon enough it was time again for the Friday night at the flat. Lance and Will were preparing for a large event hosted by the Rainbow Coalition and it served as a reminder that the yearly Pride festival was approaching. Arthur had only ever really taken note before as it being the time of the year his father’s speeches focused on a certain segment of the population and how they were all going to burn in hell for the evil they perpetrated, but as he watched Lance and Will figure out the finishing touches for a float as well as a table in the park, he realised it was something far more than a sermon topic.
Conversation that night turned to gay rights, something usually avoided during their weekly get-togethers. Arthur wasn’t sure if they wanted to protect him, or were afraid of the views he would have on the subject matter. Instead, he found himself intrigued by their arguments and their casual lectures on both how far they had come and how far they still had to go for equality and understanding from the wider community.
It did not seem right that a group was persecuted for what they felt was an undeniable part of themselves, and the theologian in him could not help but draw parallels between current events and past persecutions. He briefly wondered what his father would say, but pushed the thought away. The last thing he wanted was for his father’s views to dampen the evening.
Lance and Will were both so open about everything that Arthur felt at ease to ask questions knowing he would get an honest, if occasionally snarky, answer. There was one question he had not intended to ask, not wanting to pry quite that much, but found it came out nearly by accident, and then found it really had been in the back of his mind for far too long. “How did you know?” he asked as he grabbed the plates to bring to the kitchen.
“That I was gay, or that Will was the one for me?” Lance replied without blinking. Will had paused at his side, waiting and expectant.
“Either. Both,” Arthur replied. He was not quite certain what he intended to ask, let alone how to phrase it.
Lance looked at him with an intensity he was not used to coming from the usually congenial man. The gaze softened slightly, and there was a slight gleam to his eyes that let Arthur know he took no offence as he mused, “Well, there was the whole attraction to the male penis thing.”
“Unlike his attraction to the female penis, which was, like, totally non-existent,” Will chimed in with a grin.
Arthur shook his head and smiled, knowing he should have expected no less. “I suppose that would be telling,” he agreed with a laugh.
“It’s just something you know, something you feel,” Lance shrugged as he took the plates from him and set them in the sink. “You find someone you like and you know they are the one for you.”
Will leaned against the doorway, arms crossed in front of him with an almost forced air of casualness about him. “You start wanting to spend more time with them, find reasons to hang out with them, can’t think about doing something without thinking if he’d like it as well, that sort of thing,” he explained.
“You worry about them, wonder if they are doing okay, if they need anything, think about them more than you think about you,” Lance added. He knocked his shoulder against Will’s with a small smile.
“You don’t think about gender, or if they have a dick between their legs, you think about how they make you feel and if you want to keep feeling that way,” Will shrugged. He turned to wink at Lance though as he whispered, “But I really do like that dick between your legs, just so you know.”
“It’s a nice dick,” Lance mused. “It likes to be liked.”
“It likes a lot of things that I seem to hear about at all hours of the night,” Merlin called in from the other room, though there was no heat to his words. Arthur noted it was the first time he had really joined in with any of the gay topics. He also noted he had never asked what Merlin’s personal preference was, one way or the other, and truly had no clues as to such. He wondered if he should ask, or if that would be way too personal of a topic for someone working as his assistant, friend or no. He then wondered why he even wondered in the first place.
That night left him once again alone with his thoughts. It seemed to be happening more and more lately. He questioned his father, found solace in friends he would have shied away from only a year before. He questioned quite a few other things, honestly. Like why he wanted to know these things, why he wanted to know more than just what a newspaper or sermon could tell him.
His father would tell him it was the corruption and vileness attacking his soul should he ask, and he found himself quite unwilling to do so. Morgana told him you could never question the heart, even if it took you places you never thought you would be, which was not particularly helpful. Gwen told him God ruled all and that he had to trust that He would show the way to happiness, in whatever form He so chose. Merlin said nothing as, much like with his father, Arthur was afraid of the answer he would receive.
~~~~~~~~~~
Live Journal:
Part One | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four
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Part One | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four
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