Fic: Merlin; NC-17; AU; The Pendragon Guide to How Not to Date - Part 3
Parts 1&2 and Fic information
Part the Third: in which Morgana is determined, Arthur is a nice guy and Lancelot gets a free drink
Morgana’s quest did not end there, however. After hearing how tremendously her first ill conceived attempt at matchmaking had gone she was determined to try again.
“You said once,” Arthur pointed out, and Owain was nodding with him as they sat on the sofas waiting for her soap to finish so that she would let them watch something decent.
“No… I said that if it went terribly then you wouldn’t have to do it again and…”she began, watching the television even while she spoke. Arthur had no idea how she managed to keep up with storyline (although, it wasn’t exactly Shakespeare) while taking part in their conversation, but somehow she always managed, shushing him and Owain whenever it got to a scene that she really had to watch.
“What part of he didn’t talk do you not understand?” Arthur asked incredulously, and she merely shrugged.
“It lasted more than five minutes,” Morgana explained, “you didn’t end up dead in a ditch, therefore it wasn’t terrible, and anyway you don’t have to go out again. But you said yourself that it was nice to get out of the house.” He had, it was true, in a weak moment, made a comment to that effect but it was highly unfair of her to hold that against him. He had said it two nights ago when he had been struggling through writing a presentation for a class and he had almost been climbing the walls. “Come on, Arthur.” She cajoled, turning from the angst-laden family scene on the television to look at him. “One night out a week is barely anything, you’re a student - live dangerously
“It’s not just a night out, though,” he pointed out, “it’s a sodding date and I don’t want to be subjected to your idea of a good date again.”
“Look, this one’s not like Tristan. He’s really nice, isn’t he Owain?” Behind her Owain gave a short nod and it was that more than anything that let Arthur’s guard down.
“Does he talk?” he asked.
“Yes,” she assured him, “but not too much.”
“If he can string a sentence together he would be a marked improvement,” Arthur muttered, and Morgana seemed to take this as a decision that he would go.
“Brilliant, Friday night again, Lancelot will be so pleased,” She beamed and Arthur felt his jaw drop open.
“Lance…a… lot?” he asked drawing the name out slowly. “Do any of your friends have normal names?” There was no reply and he realised that she had started texting. “What are you doing? I never said I was going!” Morgana did not even look up. “Morgana. I’m not going.”
“I already texted him to say you were,” she said, finally looking up, all innocent.
“Then text him back and say I’ve changed my mind,” he demanded.
“I can hardly do that,” she said reproachfully. “Look, you’ll like him. I promise you.”
“I’ve never heard that before,” he replied, his voice laden with sarcasm.
“You don’t even know the guy,” Morgana argued. “At least give him the courtesy of meeting him before you decide you hate him.” Arthur fumed silently, and he could see matching smirks on Morgana’s and Owain’s faces. It looked like he was going on another blind date then, unless he stood the guy up, which was unlikely.
***
“You know your mother and I met at university,” Uther told him over the phone the next day. There were a million different meanings underlying that simple sentence and Arthur could hear them all and half of them were questions he really did not want to answer.
“I know, father,” he said, deliberately taking it at face value. Perhaps, if he played dumb, he could avoid the unpleasant relationship talk a while longer.
“So, any beautiful young women crossed your path?” his father continued. It seemed the universe had decided that it was destroy Arthur’s sanity week. First Morgana signed him up on another blind date, now his father had started not so subtly asking about his love-life. He wondered what response he would get if he said ‘actually, father, I’m gay and I’m going on a blind date with a man tomorrow because Morgana has decided I can’t find one on my own.’ However, no matter how annoying Uther was, the idea of listening to him have a heart attack down a phone line was not appealing.
“No one special,” he managed to say, resorting to his answer of choice whenever his father asked him that question.
“Well, if you don’t get out there, you’ll never know,” Uther continued. “Not that you should abandon your studies.”
“Of course not, father,” Arthur’s brain switched off and he began to answer automatically as his father started to go on again about how important his studies were. But at least he was not asking him to get a girlfriend any more.
***
Arthur had failed spectacularly at finding any way out of the enforced blind date by Friday. Except leaving the poor man stranded in the pub by himself, and he felt sure that Merlin would have a thing or two to say about that. So he ended up dressing himself up again and dragging himself down to The Dragon once more, although he was not dreading the date quite as much as he had been the week before.
As soon as he walked in the door Merlin caught sight of him and offered him a huge smile, which Arthur returned in spite of himself. Morgana’s description had been even vaguer this week - sort of curly hair, sort of tallish - and he knew that he had no hope of finding the man, Lancelot Dulaque, without a bit of direction.
So he sat down at the bar and Merlin got to him immediately: apparently having conversed with him made him more efficient.
“Another blind date, huh?” Merlin asked as he poured his pint. The bar was not as busy as it had been when Arthur came in the time before, and his movements were a lot less urgent, not that Arthur had thought that possible. The blond nodded with a weary smile. “This one got a name?”
“Lancelot,” he replied, raising one eyebrow and Merlin quirked a smile.
“Lancelot?” he repeated and Arthur nodded. “Right, well… Gwen?” He turned and caught the other bartender as she hurried past. She looked between them curiously for a second. “You haven’t seen a man called Lancelot, have you?” She paused for a second before nodding. “Really? Arthur here’s supposed to be meeting him.” The woman turned to look at Arthur and her face fell a little.
“He’s over there,” she said with a nod and both Arthur and Merlin turned to look where she had indicated. Arthur was pleasantly surprised. Where Tristan had been imposing and a little ridiculous to look at, Lancelot was really quite attractive. Perhaps he had been too quick to dismiss Morgana’s idea. Of course, there was always a possibility that he had some sort of disastrous personality flaw, so he might have to reserve judgement. He turned back to Merlin with a small grin, but the barman’s usual smile was missing.
“Once more unto the breach,” he muttered, and that managed to raise a half hearted smile, but it faded quickly, and Merlin wished him luck before hurrying away down the bar. “Right…” Arthur said to himself. He would never understand that man.
He walked over to the table where Lancelot was sitting, drinking a pint himself, and offered his hand by way of greeting.
“Lancelot?” he asked, and the dark haired man looked up.
“Yes,” he answered with a slightly nervous smile, “I expect that makes you Arthur.”
“It does indeed.” Arthur lowered himself into a chair and gave his most charming smile. So far so good. “Anyway, Morgana has been completely impossible about the whole thing and told me nothing about you, so. Where do you come from?”
“Kent,” Lancelot replied, “though my father’s from France. And you?”
“Cornwall, via London, but my mother was Welsh, so half my family insists that I’m Welsh really.” That raised a smile, and they fell into an easy conversation about families and the stupid things they did. Arthur even managed to relax, which surprised him, and he was beginning to think that Morgana might be right when he noticed that Lancelot had taken to staring over his shoulder at something. He twisted round and caught sight of nothing interesting, just the bar. Gwen was serving a couple of customers and Merlin was down the other end trying to tell an aggressive student that he had had enough.
When he turned back, Lancelot was blushing a little and avoiding his gaze, as though he had been caught doing something wrong.
Arthur dismissed it, and continued in his diatribe against the lecturer he had had earlier that day, who had told them all in no uncertain terms, that they would fail miserably. He would have forgotten the incident entirely, except it kept on happening. He would look up and find that Lancelot was staring past him. He did not think that he was being that boring. He sighed and lifted his pint to his lips only to find that he had emptied it five minutes ago.
“Want another one?” he asked, drawing Lancelot’s attention back to him. There was a moment of blank incomprehension before his date realised what he was saying.
“Uh, thanks…” he reached for his wallet, but Arthur waved him down.
“My round,” he said with a grin and Lancelot gave him a weak smile.
Arthur had a feeling something had gone wrong, only he could not quite put his finger on it. They had been talking and then Lancelot had just drifted off, as though Arthur weren’t even there. He pulled himself up to the bar, frowning as he tried to work out whether he had said anything particularly prattish.
“Two pints,” he said as Merlin came up to him, and he started to pour them.
“How’s it going?” Merlin asked as he placed the first full glass down in front of him.
“I thought well, but…” he trailed off and fished a fiver from his wallet.
“Don’t tell me you were arrogant and rude to this one as well,” Merlin said, accepting the money, but the smile he had put on was a little forced.
“I’m not arrogant,” Arthur protested, frowning more deeply.
“Sure you aren’t,” Merlin replied, but Arthur knew he was humouring him. He glared and took the second pint as Merlin placed it on the counter. The bartender looked over his shoulder to where he and Lancelot were sitting and his mouth fell open slightly. “I don’t think it was you,” he said quietly, and Arthur turned to follow his gaze.
Gwen had gone to pick up their empty glasses, which Arthur had left on the table and she and Lancelot had fallen into a conversation. Both of them were smiling at each other like there was no one else in the room.
“Bugger,” Arthur said with feeling and he felt Merlin lean over to pat him on the arm. “But he’s gay,” he muttered under his breath.
“Apparently not so much,” Merlin replied, and although he was sympathetic, Arthur could tell that he was highly amused by the situation. He turned to glare at him and found that the thin man was grinning at him as widely as he had done at the beginning of the evening.
“Glad to see my dismal track record was enough to cheer you up,” he said bitterly, but the words had no venom to them. He felt as though he should feel betrayed, or angry, but he had only met the man a couple of hours ago and while they had got along well, it had not been love at first sight (not that Arthur believed in that sort of thing anyway). He sighed.
“You’re terrible at dates,” Merlin said, not even bothering to smother his amusement.
“You can’t make an assumption like that!” Arthur protested.
“Really?” Merlin asked, “Because 100% of the dates I’ve seen you go on have been appalling.”
“Two hardly gives you enough information to base a hypothesis on,” and Arthur was cringingly aware that he sounded like Morgana right there. That was what happened when you lived with science students. They infected you and you ended up talking like them. He shuddered. “I mean, how do you know it’s not just coincidence, and the people I ended up going on the dates with were the ones who were terrible at them?”
“You’re right,” Merlin admitted, nodding, and Arthur smirked. “I haven’t got a large enough test sample. So, have you ever been on a date before?”
“Of course!” Arthur said, quickly.
“Did it go well?” Merlin asked. Arthur looked at him for a second, with his mouth open before drawing himself up and huffing slightly under his breath. “I should take Lancelot his drink, and… tell him…” he trailed off.
“Right,” Merlin said, giving him a small chuckle. “Tell him Gwen gets off in ten minutes tonight,”
“He probably already knows,” Arthur said glumly, before turning back to the table and walking over. Gwen had left to pick up more glasses from around the other tables, but Lancelot was still staring after her, smiling like an idiot.
“Here,” Arthur said quietly, placing the beer down on the mat. Lancelot jerked round, guiltily. “So, you’re bi?” he asked and Lancelot flushed a dark red colour, looking down at his drink. “It’s fine… look. It was a blind date: the chances of it working out were a million to one.” There was a lengthy pause.
“I should pay you,” Lancelot said suddenly, standing up to look Arthur in the eye, “for the beer.”
“Don’t worry about it,” Arthur insisted.
“But-” Lancelot began.
“It’s nothing… look, Merlin says that Gwen gets off in ten minutes. I think you should probably be on a date with her, not me, don’t you?” Lancelot’s eyes widened and he nodded dumbly.
“Thank you,” he said, and Arthur just shrugged helplessly. There was little else he could have done in the circumstances. He could have made a fuss, or got angry, but Lancelot was a nice guy, and Gwen seemed reasonable enough. It was hardly their fault they had hit it off when he was supposed to be on a date with Arthur.
Lancelot gave him a last grateful look before hurrying off and Arthur looked down at the table for a second. Sitting there on his own did not feel very tempting, and he had a distinct urge to get drunk, so he turned on his heel and walked back to the bar.
“You’re a good guy,” Merlin told him with a smile as he perched back on a bar stool. Arthur just glared at him and proceeded to down his pint. “A good guy who can drink like a fish.”
“Whiskey,” Arthur said, and Merlin obliged with a grin.
“You barely knew him,” he pointed out and Arthur nodded in agreement.
“Not exactly an ego boost, though.”
“Not exactly like you need an ego boost,” Merlin retorted, sliding the whiskey over to him. “You’re not planning on getting completely wasted are you? I really don’t want to throw you out.”
“Nah.” Arthur assured him.
“So,” Merlin asked, watching Arthur sip at the whiskey, not even hissing as it burnt its way down his throat. “Why are you doing this?”
“Drinking whiskey?” Arthur looked up in confusion. “I just got ditched by my date for a girl,” Merlin smirked.
“That’s not what I meant,” the dark haired man grabbed a couple of glasses from under the bar and began to polish them as another bartender, an older man, came out and began to serve the customers. “Why are you going on blind dates?” Arthur considered the question for a moment.
“I’m not really sure,” he admitted, sighing and leaning his forearms against the bar. He had been asking himself the same question ever since Morgana came up with the idea; somehow she managed to manipulate him into everything. “It’s just, Morgana.”
“Morgana?” Merlin asked, walking a few steps down to take another order.
“My sister… step-sister,” Arthur explained, “and my flatmate. She decided that I’m not enjoying myself enough.”
“So she sent you on two terrible blind dates?” Merlin asked incredulously, offering a smile to the new customer as he handed over the money. He looked around and there was no one else waiting to be served, so he slipped back down to Arthur again. “That seems a little counterproductive.”
“She doesn’t think so,” he said with a sigh.
“And you didn’t think to say no?” Merlin asked.
“Of course I did!” Arthur said, “it’s just… she sometimes has difficulty hearing certain words. No being one of them.” Merlin laughed.
“I know the type,” he said with sympathy. “I’ve got a friend, Will; he can manipulate me into anything because he’s known me forever.” Arthur nodded.
“So, other than pimping you out, what’s Morgana like?” Merlin asked cheekily.
“Annoying,” Arthur replied, taking a longer sip from his Whiskey, “she and her boyfriend, Owain, are all over each other, all the time. And she knows things about me before I tell her. It’s irritating.”
“Your sister’s psychic?” Merlin quirked an eyebrow and Arthur smiled despite himself.
“No, she just knows me too well. She knew I was gay almost before I did.” He remembered, chuckling at the memory. “She told me it was obvious because she had never caught me staring at her breasts.” Merlin laughed out right at that, and Arthur found himself joining in. He had never told that story to anyone, Morgana was the only person whom he had ever told he was gay and she had related the story to Owain, with a great deal of embellishment. He had been so embarrassed at the time, but had tried to cover it up with wounded pride; it felt odd to be laughing at his eighteen year old self now.
“She sounds fun,” Merlin said absently, pouring himself a glass of water. “What about you?”
“Am I fun?” Arthur asked, confused.
“No, just in general, what about you? What do you do? What do you like to do? Why did Morgana feel that the only way to get you out of the house was to send you on the worst blind dates known to man?”
“You ask a lot of questions,” Arthur replied.
“So I’ve been told,” Merlin responded. “Gaius, my uncle, tells me it’s a sign of latent genius…”
“It must be very latent,” Arthur said with a grin. Merlin rolled his eyes.
“Like I haven’t heard that one before,” he paused surveying Arthur quietly for a minute. “Okay, so you want to be difficult. How about this: a question for a question, an answer for an answer. You ask me something, I’ll ask you something. That seems fair.”
“What makes you think I want to know about you?” Arthur asked.
“Because I’m wonderful, charming and handsome,” Merlin replied quickly, smiling like an idiot. “My turn.”
“Wait a second, that wasn’t a question!” Arthur cried, trying to sound outraged through the smile that he could not quite get rid of.
“Yes, it was. Now… my turn. You said that Morgana was your step-sister, which parents? Your mother, her father or the other way round?”
“My father, her mother,” Arthur replied without even thinking. He watched Merlin for a moment as the bartender nodded to himself, filing away the information before he realised that he was vaguely interested in finding out about him. He ad nothing better to be doing, anyway. “Okay… fine, I’ll play your little game.”
“No wonder Morgana managed to get you on those dates,” Merlin told him smugly, “You fold like cheap paper.” Arthur glared at him, which only prompted the irritating barman to dissolve into laughter.
“If you’ve quite finished,” Arthur said, raising one eyebrow. “Have you ever heard of a hair brush?” Merlin’s hand went up to his hair immediately, mussing it up a bit more.
“Yes, but I prefer the dishevelled look,” he replied. “When I brush my hair I look stupid.”
“Stupider than usual?” Arthur inquired.
“You’ve had your question,” Merlin told him firmly, “My turn. What do you want to do when you leave university?”
“I don’t know,” Arthur said with a shrug. “My father wants me to take over the family business.”
“That wasn’t my question,” Merlin told him in teasing reprimand. “I asked what you wanted to do.” Arthur looked at him for a moment and opened his mouth to say of course he wanted to run the family business, why shouldn’t he? What right did Merlin have to suggest that he did not? But the words would not come out. He sat there, silent for a moment. “Come on,” Merlin said, “you’ve got to have some dream or other.”
“I’m… not sure,” Arthur said quietly, “travel the world, maybe. Or try and save it. I thought about joining the army for a little while.”
“Because going around with a gun is really saving the world,” Merlin commented. Arthur shot him a rueful grin and he capitulated. “Travelling sounds fun. I’d like to do it myself. I always wanted to go to the Far East, walk on the Great Wall of China and eat a real curry in India. Sleep in one of those hotels in Tokyo where your room is as big as a coffin.”
“Has anyone ever told you that you talk too much?” Arthur asked, aware that he was throwing away a question, but not really caring too much.
“All the time,” Merlin replied, still smiling. “But I don’t listen.” He paused for a minute, studying Arthur intensely. “Has anyone ever told you that you are a prat? Other than me.” He added the last part quickly as Arthur opened his mouth to reply.
“Morgana has a couple of times, but no one else really.” He smiled and decided to think carefully about his next question. A quick look down at his glass told him that it was empty. “Can I have another beer? And that’s not my question, by the way.” Merlin grinned and grabbed a pint glass from behind him. Arthur watched his hands on the tap and the glass carefully. His fingers were long and pale, like the rest of him, and Arthur almost shuddered as he watched them slide down the pump. “What do you want to do - with your life?” he asked and Merlin looked up.
“Medical research,” he replied promptly, “I’m a bio-chemist at the University,” Arthur’s eyes widened. “Yeah, this isn’t my entire life, you know. I just do this to earn money to keep me in the manner to which I have become accustomed,” he put on a posh voice, not unlike Arthur’s own and the Arts student found himself chuckling even as he reeled at the revelation. He had not thought that Merlin might be a student, although it made sense. He did not have a local accent and he was around the right age, but if had not crossed his mind. “No need to look so shell-shocked. I do have a brain between these overlarge ears,” Merlin said and Arthur snapped back to see that the bartender looked a little uncomfortable.
“It’s your question,” Arthur pointed out, forcing the look of astonishment off his face.
“Right, it is, isn’t it,” Merlin’s face became very serious and Arthur worried that maybe the game had gone on too long. He waited for the question, shifting a little in his seat, and swallowing slightly. He was not entirely sure what it was he was dreading, but the way Merlin’s blue eyes drilled into him, he was dreading something.
“Have you come out to your dad?” Merlin asked eventually and Arthur just shook his head. “Your turn,” Merlin switched the conversation quickly. Arthur wondered how he had learnt to read people so well. He took a long drink of his beer before he spoke again.
“Favourite television show?” he asked and Merlin’s face crept into a smile again.
“British or American?” he asked again.
“Both,” Arthur decided with a shrug.
“British? Doctor Who, hands down. American? It’s a toss up between Heroes and Numb3rs. What about you?” But Arthur did not get a chance to reply as his mobile rang.
He pulled it out of his pocket with an apologetic smile at Merlin who shrugged.
“Arthur?” Morgana's voice asked as soon as he answered.
“Morgana,” he grimaced and Merlin smirked a little before slipping away to serve a group of people nearby.
“How’s it going?” she asked, “do you like him?” It took Arthur a moment to remember who she was talking about.
“Lancelot?” he said stupidly.
“Of course Lancelot,” she snapped back, as though he was a complete idiot, and he probably was, because all thoughts of his disastrous date had disappeared from his mind. He had heard bartenders called untrained counsellors somewhere, and Merlin definitely fitted into that category. He looked down to where the dark haired man was bantering with his new customers and was rewarded with a blinding smile as Merlin glanced his way.
“Right… that,” he said, and he could hear Morgana waiting on the other end of the line. Only she could make waiting an active thing. “Not that well.”
“You don’t like him?” she asked, sounding crestfallen.
“Not as much as he liked someone else,” he replied pragmatically. She would no doubt get worked up enough for the two of them. She always did. In Morgana’s mind the only person allowed to undermine Arthur’s self worth and make cutting remarks about him was her. If anyone else tried it, it was cruel and prompted her to verbally destroy them.
“What?!” she yelled, and he almost jerked his phone away from his ear. He could hear Owain asking her what was wrong in the background, but she ignored him. “He went off with some other guy, on your date?”
“Actually,” Arthur said, enjoying himself now, “he went off with the barmaid.” She had no reply for that, and he could hear her spluttering in the background. “Which was fine, I don’t mind.”
“That’s not the point,” she told him, clearly irritated that he was not showing the right amount of sorrow or anger over the situation. “He was on a date with you.” She paused for a second as though she was working something out. “Look, if that happened, why haven’t you come back? You’re not trying to drink it away are you?”
“Morgana, I’m fine.” He said in a flat voice, wishing she would just get off the phone already. He had given her the update and he was well able to take care of himself.
“It’s not a good idea to get drunk alone, Arthur. Come back and we’ll break out the vodka and get pissed together.” Arthur grimaced; he hated vodka, she knew that, and he did not need to get drunk right then. He had a busy weekend ahead and he needed to not be suffering from the hangover to end all hangovers.
“Morgana…” he began again, but she cut him off before he could decline her invitation.
“Come back now, or I’m sending Owain to come and get you,” she said and Arthur just had time to hear Owain beginning to protest before she hung up on him. The words he had been about to say caught in his mouth and he was left stuck in the middle of two conversations, neither of which he could finish. He looked around quickly and saw Merlin serving another large group of people about as far away from Arthur as he could get. He would take forever to get through them, and Morgana was definitely not kidding when she said she would send Owain. He glared into thin air before noticing the beer mat in front of him.
He patted down the pockets of his jacket until he found a long thin lump and fished the biro out, hoping it had enough ink, and reached for the beer mat. With a look at Merlin he tried and failed to catch the other man’s eye and chose instead to simply scrawl down a few words on the mat before standing and walking to the door.
He forced himself not to look back to see if Merlin had noticed, and braced himself for the cold as he pushed the door open. He was not expecting the rain though, and he swore as the wetness hit him in the face. He was lucky that his flat was less than a five minute walk away and he would probably still be soaked to the bone by the time he reached the door.
Cursing the weather, he set off to trudge back up the road, his mind emphatically not on whether Merlin had found his note yet.
***
“Is it raining?” Morgana asked as he walked through the door. He just glared at her. She had interrupted a perfectly nice drink, made him walk home through the pelting rain and had, incidentally, been behind the whole debacle in the first place.
“Whatever gave you that idea?” he asked, shrugging off his jacket, which dribbled water onto the floor in several constant trickles. Owain waved a welcome and offered him a can of Strongbow, which he declined. “I’ve had enough, thanks,” which made Morgana look at him disapprovingly.
“So, he stood you up for the barmaid?” she asked, her voice icy cold. Arthur nodded with a slight shrug, trying to convey that he was perfectly fine with the situation and had managed to salvage his evening a little, even. “What did you do?”
“I didn’t do anything!” he snapped back. “Look, it was a blind date. He liked someone else. It happens all the time. Why do you automatically assume I did something?”
“Because you usually do,” she replied.
“I tried, it didn’t work,” he said, storming towards his room, partially because he needed to get away from her and partially because the feeling of sodden cloth plastered to his skin, and water trickling down his hair and across his forehead was decidedly unpleasant.
“And that’s all you’re going to say?” she asked. He didn’t even answer her, just shut the door in her face.
Five minutes, a new set of clothes and a quick pass of his towel over his head later, he was feeling a little more alive, but still not up to talking to Morgana. So, instead of emerging from his room, Arthur just settled down at his computer, checking his email and going over the work he was planning to do at the weekend. He lost track of time, fiddling around with an essay plan and did not even notice the clock until he began to yawn widely at one o’clock in the morning.
He settled down in his bed, struggling to ignore the fact that Morgana, with her impeccable timing, had chosen to go to bed with Owain right then. He was unable to wipe the smile off his face, although he would have been hard pressed to tell anyone who asked why he was smiling. It had not been a good date, it had barely made it to an okay day, but he still felt curiously content.
***
Part 4
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