Nights 'Round the Table (11/14)
Part One Part Two Part Three Part Four Part Five Part Six Part Seven Part Eight Part Nine Part Ten Part Eleven Part Twelve Part Thirteen Part Fourteen
The drive to Oakland was uncomfortably silent. Merlin cursed himself for not walking to the nearest BART station or taking a cab. At least then he wouldn’t be stuck in rush hour traffic on the Bridge with someone determined to ignore him. Merlin had been excited about the prospect of their date, and foolishly thought he could get to the source of Arthur’s anger in time to salvage the evening.
By the time they got to Treasure Island, Merlin couldn’t take it any more. “Look, I don’t know what’s happened to make you so angry, but I can’t actually do anything about it if you won’t talk to me.”
“Let me see, Merlin, why would I be upset? It surely isn’t because you never thought I might need to know that your father is famous, and that keeping that information a secret might have consequences. That it would have a real impact on people besides yourself, including everyone in Marketing and Legal, who should have been informed before the show began airing. Or perhaps you could have told me since my press effectively changed from brilliant eye for undiscovered talent, to Hollywood establishment choosing the remake over making something original. I can’t imagine why I would be upset by this.”
“I know that I don’t exactly announce who my father is, but it’s not as though it’s a well-kept secret, Arthur.” Merlin spat out. “Anyone can find out who my dad is by putting my name, or my mom’s name, or even Gaius’s name into Google. Is it my fault that you don’t run background checks on your employees, or that Morgana didn’t tell you, since you knew we went to school together? She knew me before I stopped talking about it, so I didn’t expect her to keep it a secret. Hell, I thought maybe you’d get that I went by my mother’s name instead of my father’s and ask me about it. None of that changes who I am, whether you call me Merlin Balinor or Merlin Emrys.”
“I thought maybe you would tell me the truth, because I thought maybe there was more to us than boss and employee. I thought we might mean more than that.”
“Really, Arthur, is that what you thought? We had a romantic dinner that went nowhere because you couldn’t tell I was practically using naval signal flags to let you know it was more than just dinner, and even after sleeping together, we’ve barely spoken to each other.”
“Well, let’s see, you flirt with everyone, and more than flirt with what seems to be anyone you’re not actually related to. I’m sorry if I’m not willing to risk my reputation by bed-hopping. I like to know that my partners are interested in more than one night.”
“I’m sorry that you don’t feel like you can leave the closet, Arthur, but some of us are okay with who we are, and don’t need to make excuses about why we can’t be happy.”
“But see, Merlin, I think we’ve already proven that I have no idea who you are.”
Merlin ground his teeth to keep silent, the force of it making his jaw ache. He couldn’t continue the conversation, so he refused to talk until Arthur parked to let him out of the car.
“I don’t think I’ve thanked you for the opportunity to work on this show.” He forced a bright smile onto his face. “Have a nice life, Arthur,” he said closing the door and walking away.
Merlin pulled his scarf tighter about his neck as he exited the 19th Street BART station. The pervasive October fog had turned to a gentle sprinkling of rain, and he hadn’t brought his umbrella. He mentally cursed himself for not catching a ride earlier with Gwen and Percy, but the extra forty minutes of sleep had seemed so important at the time.
Plus, he hadn’t really been up for dealing with the cheeriness of his two friends this morning. It was the last full day of filming for A Wizard in the Kitchen, and the entire staff had been abuzz with excitement for days, but Merlin only found himself getting more and more irritated and ready for the whole thing to be over.
Arthur hadn’t been by, either to the restaurant or any of the offsite filming, since that disastrous interview the previous week. Not that Merlin had expected him to, but he’d almost dared to let himself hope for something like an apology. Not a real one, of course. Arthur Pendragon didn’t do apologies, after all, at least not when there was anything real to apologize for. But something. An acknowledgement that their professional relationship was still solid, at least.
But no.
By the time he reached Ambrosia, Merlin had worked himself into quite the funk. Enough so that he didn’t even noticed the crowd of people outside until one of them blocked his way with a handheld sign, huge block text in bright red magic marker: “If it ain’t ORGANIC, it’s PROBLEMATIC!”
Merlin pushed the sign aside, earning himself a very dirty look from the pretty, hemp-clad brunette holding it. He pushed himself through the crowd, only half-paying attention to the signs many of them were holding. He could worry about what was going on once he made sure the rest of Ambrosia’s staff was all right.
“That’s him!” someone yelled as Merlin broke through the crowd just in front of the entrance to Ambrosia.
Merlin ducked inside just as the man who’d yelled started up a chant: “GMOs gotta GTFO! GMOs gotta GTFO!”
“Merlin!” Gwen, looking more harried than he’d seen her in years, greeted him with a hug. “Thank god you made it. They’ve stayed on the sidewalk so far, but we were starting to worry they might not once you got here.”
“I’m fine,” Merlin said, patting her shoulder. “They didn’t even recognize me until just before I got in. Gwen, what’s going on? Why do we have protesters out front, of all things?”
“It’s those ridiculous rumors,” Gaius said, coming over to join them.
“What rumors?” Merlin asked, confused. “Is this still that bullshit about my dad’s strawberries?”
“Oh, Merlin,” Gwen said, and he just knew the sympathy in her voice was the same that had her trying to force-feed him hot cocoa whenever anyone mentioned Arthur in his presence over the past week.
Thankfully, Gaius saved him from having to convince Gwen -- again! -- that really, he was okay with it all. You would have thought he and Arthur had been dating for months, the way she was coddling him.
“Someone,” Gaius said, “seems to have decided that we’ve been lying about the origin of our ingredients. They’ve been out there raving about imported, genetically modified foods all morning.”
“That’s ridiculous!” Merlin protested. “You’ve always made it a point to buy local when you can. Everyone knows that. And we’ve got a forager. How exactly do you go about foraging for imported, genetically-modified produce?”
“It’s been building online ever since that interview you did,” Gwen admitted. “At first, it was about your father, and then they blew what you said out of proportion, and then it became Ambrosia supporting GMOs and undermining local agriculture.”
“You knew about this?” Merlin asked. “Gwen, why didn’t you tell me?”
“It was the internet, Merlin,” Gwen said patiently. “People say all kinds of crazy things online. Besides, you were already so upset...”
“None of us realized it was serious until we got here to find that outside,” Percy said, joining them.
“We weren’t keeping it from you on purpose,” Gwen said.
“No,” Merlin agreed, shaking his head. “No, of course you weren’t. Sorry. I’m just tired and annoyed and snappish.”
“You and the rest of us,” Gaius said. “But, now, let’s leave that problem until later, hmm?”
Merlin glanced out the front window. The crowd was still there, at least twenty people by his count, but he couldn’t do anything about them now. Right now, the best he could do to ease everyone’s worry was to do his job the best he could.
“Well, then,” Merlin said, putting on his best confident grin, “we’d better get back to the kitchen. Come on; let’s make some magic.”
They held the wrap party for Wizard in the Kitchen on a Thursday night. Everyone on staff collaborated on the guest list, and they all hoped that the protesters didn’t decide to call the fire marshal about them being over capacity. Gaius had asked Percy to act as bouncer for the night, since the protesters showed no sign of leaving and taking their terrible signs with them.
Merlin was relieved that filming was finally over, and even more relieved that he hadn’t signed a contract for more then one season. If FoodTV wanted to renew the series, they would have to do it without him. He had never been interested in that kind of fame anyway, but now that he had done it successfully, he would probably never hurt for television work again. He also suspected that before the show finished airing, he would start being offered book deals, and guest spots on other shows. He might not have done this before, but he was familiar with the process thanks to his parents. Even with the local press being horrible about the protests, and his interview airing with selective edits, he still felt confident that he would always be able to find work in this industry.
He made his way through the crowd, shaking hands and hugging people when necessary, as he headed toward the bar. Gaius had arranged things so the staff were taking 15-minutes shifts tending the bar to allow everyone the chance to mingle with their guests. Since Merlin didn’t want to mingle, he grabbed a beer from the bar, and tried to find a corner to hide in. Unfortunately, before he could do that, Gaius caught up with him and pulled him towards an empty table.
“Timothy Kilgharrah is around here somewhere. I’ve asked everyone to keep an eye out for him and keep him away from my office. The last thing I want is for him to get into my glaucoma stash. If you see Tim, I would appreciate if you let him know that I have changed my medication, and that it would be unwise for him to take another man’s prescription.”
“Gaius, why don’t you just tell him you don’t want to share your drugs with him?”
Gaius’s eyebrow shot straight into his hairline. "You have met Tim, haven’t you, Merlin? You try telling that man to do anything he doesn’t want to do. Especially when he feels he’s earned it in some way due to his suffering. He’s convinced that since I’m some sort of a traitor by working with Uther Pendragon, I should take it upon myself to provide him with a balm for his troubles.”
“You could always bribe him with brownies.”
“Don’t be cheeky. I need to make sure the druids are sticking to the well liquors for everything but the champagne. We’re going to bring out the hors d'oeuvres shortly. You should check in with them and make sure that none of those jokers decided to serve Easy Cheese on Ritz crackers.”
Merlin nodded, grateful for an excuse to avoid the party. He headed toward the kitchen, grabbed a plate and selected hors d'oeuvres from each of the many trays, justifying the action with the knowledge that he would have to give commentary on them later. Pulling out his keys, he let himself into the stockroom so he could hide in peace. He made the decision to leave the light off, since he didn’t want anyone to notice the light under the door. Gaius had installed emergency lighting after the first time Merlin had accidentally locked himself in the stockroom when he was fifteen and couldn’t see to get out. Making himself comfortable on the floor, he sat with his food and beer, and proceeded to get his sulk on.
“Young chef.”
“Jesus fuck! Dude, what are you doing in here?” Merlin started badly, losing his balance and almost falling into the metro racks. The Great Dragon was lounging in the far corner.
“These are troubling times we live in. The witches seek to destroy you. You must be vigilant, and strike back decisively before it’s too late to combat their lies.”
“You don’t understand how the internet works, do you? Have you heard of birthers? Once people start to believe a rumor, no matter how stupid, they don’t need any more proof that someone else on the internet said it was true. It’s too late to fix it, and I wouldn’t even know where to start.”
“You could expose the truth about them.”
“Who are they? I have no idea where all of this started, and I don’t know why they’ve decided to hate me.”
“Do you not have enemies? Those who would view you as an obstacle to their scheming?”
“Not really, I mean those crazies from Blessed... Oh, witches.”
“Yes, young Merlin. You have interfered with them just by your existence. You, and your father before you, represent everything they seek to eradicate from this industry. Patriarchal domination in professional kitchens, rationalizations for the consumption of flesh, national exposure for views that contradict their own beliefs. But your partnership with Pendragon gives you power they can never hope to have. They cannot defeat you so long as you stand together.”
Merlin frowned. “It’s too late, then. Arthur wants nothing to do with me. Even if we get a second season, it’s going to be too late to save Ambrosia if no one comes to eat here because of the protesters.”
“You have the potential to become the greatest chef who has ever lived. Already, I see that you are the equal of those before you who had the gall to name themselves Dragonlords.”
The Dragon stood up, and dusted himself off, even though Merlin knew for a fact the room was spotless. “Do not let your loyalty to Gaius prevent you from achieving your destiny. Your path as a chef may be set, but only you can determine how you walk along it, and how far you’ve traveled by the end.” He opened the door and walked out.
Merlin rubbed his hands over his face, trying to make sense of what the old bastard had said and steeling himself to return to the party and be a good host. Half the people here were going to want to talk to him, and the sooner he got it out of the way, the sooner they’d go home and he’d be able to think about his next steps.
Next
The drive to Oakland was uncomfortably silent. Merlin cursed himself for not walking to the nearest BART station or taking a cab. At least then he wouldn’t be stuck in rush hour traffic on the Bridge with someone determined to ignore him. Merlin had been excited about the prospect of their date, and foolishly thought he could get to the source of Arthur’s anger in time to salvage the evening.
By the time they got to Treasure Island, Merlin couldn’t take it any more. “Look, I don’t know what’s happened to make you so angry, but I can’t actually do anything about it if you won’t talk to me.”
“Let me see, Merlin, why would I be upset? It surely isn’t because you never thought I might need to know that your father is famous, and that keeping that information a secret might have consequences. That it would have a real impact on people besides yourself, including everyone in Marketing and Legal, who should have been informed before the show began airing. Or perhaps you could have told me since my press effectively changed from brilliant eye for undiscovered talent, to Hollywood establishment choosing the remake over making something original. I can’t imagine why I would be upset by this.”
“I know that I don’t exactly announce who my father is, but it’s not as though it’s a well-kept secret, Arthur.” Merlin spat out. “Anyone can find out who my dad is by putting my name, or my mom’s name, or even Gaius’s name into Google. Is it my fault that you don’t run background checks on your employees, or that Morgana didn’t tell you, since you knew we went to school together? She knew me before I stopped talking about it, so I didn’t expect her to keep it a secret. Hell, I thought maybe you’d get that I went by my mother’s name instead of my father’s and ask me about it. None of that changes who I am, whether you call me Merlin Balinor or Merlin Emrys.”
“I thought maybe you would tell me the truth, because I thought maybe there was more to us than boss and employee. I thought we might mean more than that.”
“Really, Arthur, is that what you thought? We had a romantic dinner that went nowhere because you couldn’t tell I was practically using naval signal flags to let you know it was more than just dinner, and even after sleeping together, we’ve barely spoken to each other.”
“Well, let’s see, you flirt with everyone, and more than flirt with what seems to be anyone you’re not actually related to. I’m sorry if I’m not willing to risk my reputation by bed-hopping. I like to know that my partners are interested in more than one night.”
“I’m sorry that you don’t feel like you can leave the closet, Arthur, but some of us are okay with who we are, and don’t need to make excuses about why we can’t be happy.”
“But see, Merlin, I think we’ve already proven that I have no idea who you are.”
Merlin ground his teeth to keep silent, the force of it making his jaw ache. He couldn’t continue the conversation, so he refused to talk until Arthur parked to let him out of the car.
“I don’t think I’ve thanked you for the opportunity to work on this show.” He forced a bright smile onto his face. “Have a nice life, Arthur,” he said closing the door and walking away.
Merlin pulled his scarf tighter about his neck as he exited the 19th Street BART station. The pervasive October fog had turned to a gentle sprinkling of rain, and he hadn’t brought his umbrella. He mentally cursed himself for not catching a ride earlier with Gwen and Percy, but the extra forty minutes of sleep had seemed so important at the time.
Plus, he hadn’t really been up for dealing with the cheeriness of his two friends this morning. It was the last full day of filming for A Wizard in the Kitchen, and the entire staff had been abuzz with excitement for days, but Merlin only found himself getting more and more irritated and ready for the whole thing to be over.
Arthur hadn’t been by, either to the restaurant or any of the offsite filming, since that disastrous interview the previous week. Not that Merlin had expected him to, but he’d almost dared to let himself hope for something like an apology. Not a real one, of course. Arthur Pendragon didn’t do apologies, after all, at least not when there was anything real to apologize for. But something. An acknowledgement that their professional relationship was still solid, at least.
But no.
By the time he reached Ambrosia, Merlin had worked himself into quite the funk. Enough so that he didn’t even noticed the crowd of people outside until one of them blocked his way with a handheld sign, huge block text in bright red magic marker: “If it ain’t ORGANIC, it’s PROBLEMATIC!”
Merlin pushed the sign aside, earning himself a very dirty look from the pretty, hemp-clad brunette holding it. He pushed himself through the crowd, only half-paying attention to the signs many of them were holding. He could worry about what was going on once he made sure the rest of Ambrosia’s staff was all right.
“That’s him!” someone yelled as Merlin broke through the crowd just in front of the entrance to Ambrosia.
Merlin ducked inside just as the man who’d yelled started up a chant: “GMOs gotta GTFO! GMOs gotta GTFO!”
“Merlin!” Gwen, looking more harried than he’d seen her in years, greeted him with a hug. “Thank god you made it. They’ve stayed on the sidewalk so far, but we were starting to worry they might not once you got here.”
“I’m fine,” Merlin said, patting her shoulder. “They didn’t even recognize me until just before I got in. Gwen, what’s going on? Why do we have protesters out front, of all things?”
“It’s those ridiculous rumors,” Gaius said, coming over to join them.
“What rumors?” Merlin asked, confused. “Is this still that bullshit about my dad’s strawberries?”
“Oh, Merlin,” Gwen said, and he just knew the sympathy in her voice was the same that had her trying to force-feed him hot cocoa whenever anyone mentioned Arthur in his presence over the past week.
Thankfully, Gaius saved him from having to convince Gwen -- again! -- that really, he was okay with it all. You would have thought he and Arthur had been dating for months, the way she was coddling him.
“Someone,” Gaius said, “seems to have decided that we’ve been lying about the origin of our ingredients. They’ve been out there raving about imported, genetically modified foods all morning.”
“That’s ridiculous!” Merlin protested. “You’ve always made it a point to buy local when you can. Everyone knows that. And we’ve got a forager. How exactly do you go about foraging for imported, genetically-modified produce?”
“It’s been building online ever since that interview you did,” Gwen admitted. “At first, it was about your father, and then they blew what you said out of proportion, and then it became Ambrosia supporting GMOs and undermining local agriculture.”
“You knew about this?” Merlin asked. “Gwen, why didn’t you tell me?”
“It was the internet, Merlin,” Gwen said patiently. “People say all kinds of crazy things online. Besides, you were already so upset...”
“None of us realized it was serious until we got here to find that outside,” Percy said, joining them.
“We weren’t keeping it from you on purpose,” Gwen said.
“No,” Merlin agreed, shaking his head. “No, of course you weren’t. Sorry. I’m just tired and annoyed and snappish.”
“You and the rest of us,” Gaius said. “But, now, let’s leave that problem until later, hmm?”
Merlin glanced out the front window. The crowd was still there, at least twenty people by his count, but he couldn’t do anything about them now. Right now, the best he could do to ease everyone’s worry was to do his job the best he could.
“Well, then,” Merlin said, putting on his best confident grin, “we’d better get back to the kitchen. Come on; let’s make some magic.”
They held the wrap party for Wizard in the Kitchen on a Thursday night. Everyone on staff collaborated on the guest list, and they all hoped that the protesters didn’t decide to call the fire marshal about them being over capacity. Gaius had asked Percy to act as bouncer for the night, since the protesters showed no sign of leaving and taking their terrible signs with them.
Merlin was relieved that filming was finally over, and even more relieved that he hadn’t signed a contract for more then one season. If FoodTV wanted to renew the series, they would have to do it without him. He had never been interested in that kind of fame anyway, but now that he had done it successfully, he would probably never hurt for television work again. He also suspected that before the show finished airing, he would start being offered book deals, and guest spots on other shows. He might not have done this before, but he was familiar with the process thanks to his parents. Even with the local press being horrible about the protests, and his interview airing with selective edits, he still felt confident that he would always be able to find work in this industry.
He made his way through the crowd, shaking hands and hugging people when necessary, as he headed toward the bar. Gaius had arranged things so the staff were taking 15-minutes shifts tending the bar to allow everyone the chance to mingle with their guests. Since Merlin didn’t want to mingle, he grabbed a beer from the bar, and tried to find a corner to hide in. Unfortunately, before he could do that, Gaius caught up with him and pulled him towards an empty table.
“Timothy Kilgharrah is around here somewhere. I’ve asked everyone to keep an eye out for him and keep him away from my office. The last thing I want is for him to get into my glaucoma stash. If you see Tim, I would appreciate if you let him know that I have changed my medication, and that it would be unwise for him to take another man’s prescription.”
“Gaius, why don’t you just tell him you don’t want to share your drugs with him?”
Gaius’s eyebrow shot straight into his hairline. "You have met Tim, haven’t you, Merlin? You try telling that man to do anything he doesn’t want to do. Especially when he feels he’s earned it in some way due to his suffering. He’s convinced that since I’m some sort of a traitor by working with Uther Pendragon, I should take it upon myself to provide him with a balm for his troubles.”
“You could always bribe him with brownies.”
“Don’t be cheeky. I need to make sure the druids are sticking to the well liquors for everything but the champagne. We’re going to bring out the hors d'oeuvres shortly. You should check in with them and make sure that none of those jokers decided to serve Easy Cheese on Ritz crackers.”
Merlin nodded, grateful for an excuse to avoid the party. He headed toward the kitchen, grabbed a plate and selected hors d'oeuvres from each of the many trays, justifying the action with the knowledge that he would have to give commentary on them later. Pulling out his keys, he let himself into the stockroom so he could hide in peace. He made the decision to leave the light off, since he didn’t want anyone to notice the light under the door. Gaius had installed emergency lighting after the first time Merlin had accidentally locked himself in the stockroom when he was fifteen and couldn’t see to get out. Making himself comfortable on the floor, he sat with his food and beer, and proceeded to get his sulk on.
“Young chef.”
“Jesus fuck! Dude, what are you doing in here?” Merlin started badly, losing his balance and almost falling into the metro racks. The Great Dragon was lounging in the far corner.
“These are troubling times we live in. The witches seek to destroy you. You must be vigilant, and strike back decisively before it’s too late to combat their lies.”
“You don’t understand how the internet works, do you? Have you heard of birthers? Once people start to believe a rumor, no matter how stupid, they don’t need any more proof that someone else on the internet said it was true. It’s too late to fix it, and I wouldn’t even know where to start.”
“You could expose the truth about them.”
“Who are they? I have no idea where all of this started, and I don’t know why they’ve decided to hate me.”
“Do you not have enemies? Those who would view you as an obstacle to their scheming?”
“Not really, I mean those crazies from Blessed... Oh, witches.”
“Yes, young Merlin. You have interfered with them just by your existence. You, and your father before you, represent everything they seek to eradicate from this industry. Patriarchal domination in professional kitchens, rationalizations for the consumption of flesh, national exposure for views that contradict their own beliefs. But your partnership with Pendragon gives you power they can never hope to have. They cannot defeat you so long as you stand together.”
Merlin frowned. “It’s too late, then. Arthur wants nothing to do with me. Even if we get a second season, it’s going to be too late to save Ambrosia if no one comes to eat here because of the protesters.”
“You have the potential to become the greatest chef who has ever lived. Already, I see that you are the equal of those before you who had the gall to name themselves Dragonlords.”
The Dragon stood up, and dusted himself off, even though Merlin knew for a fact the room was spotless. “Do not let your loyalty to Gaius prevent you from achieving your destiny. Your path as a chef may be set, but only you can determine how you walk along it, and how far you’ve traveled by the end.” He opened the door and walked out.
Merlin rubbed his hands over his face, trying to make sense of what the old bastard had said and steeling himself to return to the party and be a good host. Half the people here were going to want to talk to him, and the sooner he got it out of the way, the sooner they’d go home and he’d be able to think about his next steps.
Next