The Hardest Way Possible
Title: The Hardest Way Possible
Wordcount: ~12,500
Summary: Merlin's addicted to Craigslist, Arthur's looking for love in all the wrong places, and with a little help from their friends, they manage to get it together.
A/N: This started as a little palate cleanser after the Feast of Angst that this journal has been lately, and then sort of ... grew. Some Arthur/Others and Merlin/Others, but ... have faith in the endgame. Title by the Rustic Overtones.
Disclaimer: I do not own Merlin.
Merlin is about to click what he swears is his last link for the night when he sees the subject line:
Saw you in Ealdor - m4m (Camelot)
And Merlin’s always been a bit of a romantic with a secret love of reading personal ads for fun (thus why he’s on Craigslist when he should have been asleep for at least an hour), but he’s never actually run across a story that he could be part of. Hell, it could be for him. Ealdor is his restaurant, after all, so Merlin clicks the link with a completely stupid amount of butterflies in his stomach.
I came in just before close to get out of the rain. You and a friend were laughing and washing tables down, but you brought me a coffee anyway without my asking. Your friend was talking to you, but I feel like you and I had a moment when I paid. Maybe this is a bit of a long shot, but I would love to see you again. Message me if you see this?
-Location: Camelot
-It is NOT okay to contact this poster with services or other commercial interests
And the thing is, Merlin remembers this. It was absolutely pissing down three days ago, and he and Lance had been clearing up from a quiet night, since Merlin had finished cleaning the kitchen, when a blond in a suit came in, dripping and annoyed and completely fucking gorgeous. He’d smiled and asked if they’d mind him sitting down for a while while the rain spent itself and Merlin had told him it wasn’t a problem and made a coffee and sent Lance over with it because he can’t talk to men without falling over himself. And then went back to teasing Lance for being completely besotted with the new woman he’d … shit. Isn’t that just Merlin’s luck. He meets a gorgeous bloke in his restaurant, gorgeous bloke proves on Craigslist that he is in fact interested in men … gorgeous bloke is pining for Merlin’s straight best friend/employee.
Which means that now Merlin is left with the huge quandary of what to do. The least creepy solution would probably be to pretend he didn’t see it or recognize the situation. But then he imagines the blond bloke, maybe as much of a secret romantic as Merlin, fretting to himself that maybe he missed out on a chance at destiny and maybe missing out on other chances at destiny while pining for Lance (Merlin admits that he perhaps gets a bit maudlin in the middle of the night after a long shift in the kitchen). The kindest solution would be forwarding the link to Lance and letting him respond and gently let the bloke down. But Lance is the noblest person that he knows and it would absolutely kill him to do that and he would feel guilty for weeks. So instead Merlin clicks the reply button and tries not to overthink.
You are going to think this is incredibly creepy, he writes eventually, but I’m the friend you mentioned, of the guy at Ealdor. You were the blond with the suit and the red tie, right? And you seem really nice, which is why I’m really sorry to say that my friend is straight, got a girlfriend and everything. And I would have sent this on to him so he could respond, but then he would feel guilty forever, and I can’t be responsible for that. He’s just got this thing about eye contact, because he wants to be a businessman and he reads all these self-help books about being an effective person and--
Merlin deletes that last sentence.
Anyway, mate, best of luck in future. And sorry again, both for being a creeper and for giving the bad news.
After that, he logs off for the night and goes to bed feeling inexplicably glum.
His phone wakes him in the morning instead of his alarm, blaring “Baba O’Riley” at him, which means Gwaine is calling to enthuse about his latest lay or complain about being hungover. It’s about even odds which one. Merlin gives serious thought to not answering before remembering his exhausted message to the Craigslist guy the night before, and then he has to pick up, because he needs to rant at someone about it, and he can’t do it to Lance (or, by extension, Percival). “Gwaine,” he says the second he picks up the phone, “is it possible to unsend a message on Craigslist?”
Gwaine, because he’s an arse, immediately starts cracking up. “Merl, did you get drunk and try to cyber some bloke?”
“No! It’s just … this guy posted on Craigslist, a missed connection in Ealdor, and it was about Lance, and I felt sorry for the poor guy so I, you know, messaged him to tell him that Lance is straight, and I feel like a complete arse.”
It takes more than a full minute for Gwaine to get his laughter under control, and Merlin spends the whole time with his face flaming and buried in his pillow. “Mate, this definitely beats what I was going to talk to you about this morning,” Gwaine manages at last.
“What were you going to talk to me about?” Merlin asks hopefully, voice still a bit muffled by the pillow. If he gets Gwaine talking about whoever he shagged last night (and this sounds far more like a post-shag phone call than a post-binge phone call), maybe he’ll forget about Merlin being a complete idiot.
“Blonde bird. Lovely tits. Really annoying. Think I might switch to blokes for a bit after this, the ladies are a bit too high-maintenance for me these days. Come on, I’m more interested in your story. Who’s the guy?” Gwaine pauses and starts laughing again. “Oh, Merl, no, tell me it’s not the suit you were swooning over the other night.”
“I was not swooning!” Merlin cries, lifting his head, and then buries it again because of course Gwaine will take that as an admission, which it kind of is. “Stop laughing,” he adds after a miserable moment.
“Mate, I have got to tell Will about this.” Merlin groans. “Come on. You knew the second you showed weakness we would tease you till you squirm. You think it’s just so funny whenever something like this happens to us, and now it’s you.” He sounds far too gleeful for Merlin’s taste.
“Could I at least get a bit of sympathy? Normally Lance is my go-to guy for that, but he’d be so upset if he found out.”
Merlin flails his way out of bed and opens up his laptop. “You’re going to have to tell him eventually, you know,” says Gwaine. “He’ll be so disappointed if you don’t.”
“Not just yet, though,” says Merlin as he opens up his e-mail. “Oh, shit, he actually responded. Isn’t it the done thing to pretend that your correspondent was drunk, or to call him an arsehole and not answer?”
“Well, what does he say?” asks Gwaine.
Merlin’s heart sinks when he opens the message. Yeah, that’s me. Guess it was too much to hope for. Thanks. “Mate.” “Thanks,” says Merlin. “He says thanks.”
*
“So,” Arthur says over breakfast, and all four people with him snap to look at him immediately. “I actually got a response on the Craigslist thing.”
All three of the women beam at him immediately, though Leon looks a bit apprehensive. “I knew it was the right thing to do,” crows Morgana.
“From the man’s friend, apologizing and telling me he’s straight, with a girlfriend no less,” Arthur finishes, and all four of them visibly deflate. “I mean, he was nice enough about it, I suppose, but there isn’t really a good way to say that.”
“I’ll go get us some more coffee,” says Leon, which is his way of making sure he doesn’t have to console Arthur. Not that Arthur needs consoling.
The ladies swap looks. Morgana drops out first, predictably enough, leaving Gwen and Elena to telegraph at each other across the table. Gwen wins out at last, and turns to Arthur with a face full of sympathy. “He is just one man, Arthur. It doesn’t mean you have to give up on all of them.”
“Did I say that I was? I don’t believe I ever said that. It’s just a bit lowering, that’s all. And proof that I needn’t put something up on the internet every time I make eye contact with a man, Morgana.” And a reminder that if he does put things on the internet like that he needs to bloody stop thinking that it’s all going to end like some soppy film. “Anyway, I just wanted to let you lot know.”
Leon picks that moment to return with a tray of coffee for them all, and the girls all exchange looks and sigh, but stop bothering him. “Tell us about the new boyfriend,” says Elena when they’re all sipping their drinks and looking warily at each other, turning to Gwen.
Gwen turns pink. “Well, he’s not my boyfriend, for one. It’s only been two dates. And we’re planning a third. But really, he’s lovely. I think you all will love him. His name’s Lance, and he’s a perfect gentleman. He tends bar at the moment, but he wants to go into marketing …”
Morgana flaps a hand about. “Never mind that! We want to know what he looks like.” Leon looks around hopefully for someone to exchange a long-suffering look with, and Arthur indulges him, since he’s already heard at least five minutes of Gwen telling him how perfect this new bloke is and really doesn’t care to hear more.
“I can get Facebook on my phone,” Elena offers, and hands it over to Gwen, who is still blushing but looking so pleased that Arthur can’t actually bring himself to roll his eyes and start talking footie with Leon, which he would really like to do. The girls tend to forget that just because he’s gay doesn’t actually mean that he’s a girl. Well, Morgana forgets nothing, but she also delights in torturing him.
“There,” says Gwen after a few minutes, and Morgana and Elena immediately crowd close to look. “That’s him with his friend … Merlin, I think it is? He talks about him all the time, but I haven’t met him yet. He’s the one on the left.”
“Ooo, he’s quite handsome.” Elena grins at her. “I might just take him for myself.” Gwen swats her and Morgana giggles and the whole thing is getting unbearable when Elena takes her phone back and waves it at Arthur. “Here, you look too, tell Gwen how hot he is.”
Arthur takes it, preparing to say something polite and then drag Leon off to the gym and away from the girls, and stops to stare the second he’s taken the phone, because there on the screen is the man from Ealdor and the friend who sent Arthur the message. “You have got to be kidding me,” he says. “Well, at least what’s-his-name wasn’t lying about him having a girlfriend. My Lord, he has the most unfortunate ears known to mankind.”
All four of them gape at him. Leon and Morgana recover almost in unison, followed shortly by Elena. Gwen is last to get her composure back, but she’s the first one to speak. “Arthur, you can’t be--are you--Lance was the guy?”
“Unless Lance is the unfortunate with the ears, then yes, Lance was the guy.” Arthur grimaces and gives Elena back her phone. She pats his hand as he does. “I know you and I have always had similar taste, but really, this is a bit excessive.”
“Well, obviously I won’t see him any longer. It isn’t fair to you,” says Gwen, but she looks absolutely miserable as she says it. They’ve all been hearing about Lancelot the Perfect for weeks now and he can’t bear to break that up, even though he’d really like to.
Well, he can only hope that whoever-it-is-with-the-ears will never tell Lance about the Craigslist Debacle. “Don’t be silly, Gwen. I can man up and face Lancelot and his perfect arse with aplomb, I promise. I won’t even ogle him.”
Gwen beams. “You are a star, Arthur. Maybe he’s got some gay friends?”
He glares at her. “I do have some pride, you know.”
Elena, apparently sensing that he wants to go and have a very manly and dignified session of beating his head against a wall, makes a far-too-exaggerated point of checking the time on her phone. “Well, would you look at that! Arthur, you and I are due at the … thing. You know.”
“Right, of course, Ellie, the thing. I hope you know that you’re useless,” says Arthur, but he stands and pulls out her chair for her while she does, mostly so she won’t knock it over. “I’ll see you lot tomorrow, shall I? Gwen, don’t you dare break up with Lance over me, he seems like a great guy.”
“I’ll see you at the gym later,” promises Leon, who will probably make his excuses within five minutes to let Morgana and Gwen gossip. Or perhaps Gwen will make her excuses and Leon will spend the next hour trying hard not to stare at Morgana and she pretends to be unconcerned. There was some funny business involving a night of tequila shooters about a month ago that he is still trying to unravel.
Arthur holds out his arm and Elena takes it, and they walk down the street. They’re barely out of earshot of the others before she squeezes his arm. “Are you going to be okay with this for real, darling?”
“Well, I don’t have much choice, do I? Gwen’s been rhapsodizing about destiny for weeks, I don’t have the heart to say I’d rather not see him again.”
“Morgana and I will protect you. And Leon.” Elena pats his arm again. “Now, how about we go for a run in the park or something? I should not have had that last waffle.”
“Come on, then. Back to my flat and we’ll get changed.” He ruffles her hair and she beams up at him, knowing exactly what he means by it.
*
When Merlin explains his friends to his mother (though of course she’s known Will forever), he says it’s like he has shoulder angels and shoulder devils doing double duty. Gwaine and Will get him in trouble and then mock him mercilessly, and Lancelot and Percival listen to him moan about it and sometimes offer advice. Although Percival mostly just nods and looks sympathetic (he’s the newest to their group, a friend of Lance’s met while backpacking across Europe, and Merlin isn’t entirely sure what to think of him yet. He seems nice enough, but he’s also very quiet and has very scary muscles and when he smiles he looks a bit dim. But then, Merlin’s smile doesn’t make him look all that bright so he’s not really one to judge). But he’s still firmly in shoulder-angel territory.
Lance and Percival also seem to share this misguided notion that Merlin ought to join the rest of them when they’re engaging in sport, which is why Merlin’s at the park when he should really be getting ready to prep tonight’s dinner ingredients with Percival gently lobbing a Frisbee in his direction and Will laughing his head off on a nearby bench.
“I’m never actually going to catch one,” he calls across the space between them. Percival has had the brilliant idea that perhaps if Merlin has more time to see the Frisbee coming he’ll be more likely to catch it.
“Just give it a shot,” says Percival encouragingly, and lobs the Frisbee gently in Merlin’s direction again.
The problem with Percival being six foot a million and built like a Greek god is that a gentle lob for him creates a flying plastic wheel of death, and it is aimed unerringly for Merlin’s chest this time. Merlin flails backwards and lands on his arse and nearly gets a Frisbee haircut (never mind that Frisbees aren’t sharp enough for that).
Instead of hearing it skim across the grass in the distance, though, he hears a huff and the sound of someone catching it, followed by a laugh. “Good toss. You all right there?”
Merlin turns around, knowing his ears are going red, even as Will starts laughing again. There, to compound his humiliation, is the Craigslist Bloke, who is (a week after Merlin’s faux pas) already a legend in their group. He’s not wearing a suit this time, since he appears to be out for a run, and he’s sweaty and maybe glowing a bit in the sun, though that might also be the fact that he’s a bit backlit and Merlin is still sitting on his arse like a complete idiot. “Yeah, I’m fine.”
Percival, it appears, has jogged over to make sure Merlin is okay, and the blond steps right forward to shake his hand, and Merlin misses half the handshake because he’s standing up and brushing himself off, but when he gets up the Craigslist Bloke is pretty blatantly checking Percival out. Merlin’s heart sinks, which he refuses to admit. “Do you play here often?”
It occurs to Merlin that he actually has no idea if Percival likes men or not. Chances are if he was Gwaine would have seduced him by now. Or even Will. Or Merlin, if he was drunk enough. Their group of friends can be a bit incestuous. But then, he hasn’t tried to seduce Freya either. Maybe he’s a robot, since humans are not actually built like that. “Every once in a while. That was a great catch.”
“It was catch or be hit. Or fall on my arse,” says the blond, arching his eyebrows and turning to Merlin to include him in the joke (which is decent of him, even if he is sort of an arse) before freezing. “Oh, shit, it’s you.”
That quite neatly answers the question of whether he’d made any impression at all that first time, since he’s been recognized. It doesn’t really answer the question of what the hell he’s supposed to do now, because Will has suddenly materialized at his side, as he is wont to do, looking a bit murderous that anyone is less than pleased to see Merlin, which he is also wont to do. Percival just looks between them with a benign, confused sort of expression. Merlin really doesn’t want to deal with their reaction to meeting Craigslist Bloke, so he raises his eyebrows significantly like his Uncle Gaius does and hopes the other man follows his lead. “Oh, you’re the one who nearly knocked me over on the subway the other day,” he says, since it’s the first excuse that comes to mind considering the vaguely hunted look on Craigslist Bloke’s face.
“I’m what? I mean, I am. Sorry.”
“Mate, you are the worst liar I know,” says Will, who is heartless. “So, are you Craigslist Bloke?”
“I’m Arthur, actually.” It’s pretty easy to see that Arthur is trying hard to look neutral, but he’s also going a bit pink in the cheeks. “And who are all of you?” He looks pointedly at Percival, and Merlin has to admire his persistence, even if he also rather wants to sink into a hole.
Will is laughing too hard to answer. Merlin is giving serious thought to just babbling an excuse about the restaurant and running. Thus, Percival answers. “I’m Percival. It’s good to meet you, Arthur. This is Will and Merlin.”
Merlin could kiss him for not mentioning the Craigslist thing even though he thought it was a bit funny as well (Lancelot did not. Lancelot is still feeling guilty about it, in fact, and Merlin probably owes him chocolate truffles for that). Arthur relaxes. “I can’t stay long, I’m afraid. Meeting up with my sister for dinner. But it was great to meet you, Percival. And Merlin and Will, of course. Perhaps I’ll see you around here again, play some Frisbee.”
He jogs off. Merlin looks from Percival, who’s looking uncharacteristically thoughtful, to Will, who’s red-faced from laughing. “I’m going to go apologize to him and then head to the restaurant. I’ll see you guys later.”
Before Will can start mocking him again, Merlin runs off after Arthur and flags him down where he’s leaving the park. “Can I help you?” Arthur asks when he notices him, clearly not as willing to play nice when he’s not around Percival. “Are you here to tell me that none of your other friends are gay either?”
“You are such a prat,” blurts Merlin, and curses himself when Arthur looks ready to give him a piece of his mind. “No, sorry, sorry, I came to apologize. I’ve honestly got no idea if Percival is gay, you’ll have to ask him that yourself. I just … I was sort of mortified about being an arse and sending you that message and I told Gwaine, which was obviously a mistake because Gwaine can’t keep his fucking mouth shut, and--”
“Christ, do you ever shut up? Apology accepted. Watch out for any flying Frisbees.” And with that, Arthur walks off down the street, in the opposite direction to where Merlin needs to go.
“What an arse,” Merlin mutters, and stomps off towards Ealdor.
*
“Elena. Darling.”
“You already owe me about six favors, Arthur,” she replies, handing him the figures he ostensibly called her into his office to give him, never mind the head of Design probably shouldn’t be running errands for the CEO.
“I thought you might want to come to the park with me after work.”
Elena stares at him for several seconds and then shuts his office door, effectively cutting Sophia off from listening in on their conversation. “Alright, spill. You’ve been awfully secretive the past couple days, and now you want to go to the park. And you didn’t mention running.”
“I--well, there might be a guy. At the very least he’s good at Frisbee even if nothing comes of it. But there are a few complications, so I didn’t really want to mention.”
She sighs at him and sits down in the chair on the other side of his desk. “You are such a bloke. Why is my gay best friend such a man about everything?”
“Because I am a man. You need to work on your stereotyping.” He gives her a long look that he hopes reminds her of the fact that she hates shopping and shoes and is usually the one who instigates their runs or rides or games of football.
“So what kind of complications are there? Not sure if he’s gay?”
“Well, that. And he was playing Frisbee with the guy who messaged me on Lance’s behalf on Craigslist.”
Elena stares at him for a few seconds and then bursts out laughing. “One thing I can say for you, Arthur, is that your life is never boring.”
He reminds himself that he’s asking her for a favour and should be nice until she caves. Morgana he would attack immediately, but he also doesn’t intend to tell Morgana about any romantic developments until he’s planning to get married, considering her last advice led to his complete humiliation. “Come on, just a casual walk through the park. I’ll even buy you ice cream, after.”
“I am not six.” Arthur just looks at her. “What kind of ice cream?”
Arthur laughs, since that signals the beginning of her complete capitulation, and changes the subject to work. At five fifteen she comes to his office and drags him out, giving their excuses to Leon and Morgana on the way. Morgana’s look promises retribution, but there isn’t time to worry about that before Elena tows him down the street towards the park.
Just as he was hoping, Percival is tossing a ball around with some friends--Merlin and what’s-his-face, the one who about split his sides laughing when he figured out who Arthur was, are both there as well, though Merlin is reading a book on a bench and not dodging throws, as well as a timid-looking girl with a wicked throw. Lance is there too, however, and Arthur nearly turns around and leaves when he notices that. The only thing that stops him is Elena’s hand tightening on his arm. “I will tell Morgana about all this if you chicken out,” she hisses, which isn’t fair in the least.
“Merlin,” he says as jovially as he can manage, since that seems like the easiest way to get into the group.
Merlin’s head jerks up and he goes through a wide array of expressions in a very short time, settling in the end on a crumpled, long-suffering sort of squint. It makes him look disconcertingly like Leon for a second. “Arthur. Who’s your friend?”
“I’m Elena King, and it’s a pleasure to meet you.” Elena shakes Merlin’s hand, with enough force that Merlin looks bewildered when she lets go, and beams at him. “What are you reading?”
“Cookbook.” He holds it up, still giving Arthur sidelong glances. “Quite a coincidence to see you here again, Arthur.”
Arthur interrupts before Elena can try to lie on behalf, because she’s tried before and it never ends well. “Elena and I are winding down from a stressful meeting. Why aren’t you playing with your friends?”
Merlin mutters something under his breath involving the word “mother.” “I’m accident-prone and I have a reprieve today because I can’t make souffle with a concussion.”
“You like cooking?” asks Elena, sitting down next to Merlin and dragging Arthur down next to her so they’re all squished on the bench.
“I’m a chef. I own the Ealdor, downtown. It was my Da’s, and after he … uh, my mother ran it until I had my degree, and then I took over so she could get out of the city like she’s been wanting to do forever, and you probably didn’t want to know that.”
“Nonsense.” Elena proceeds to embark on a remarkably thorough investigation of Merlin’s life, family, and friends. The last gets him to mention Percival, among others, so Arthur makes a note to thank her for the information while he watches whatever game they’re playing. Then she drags him into talking about the office and before he knows it fifteen minutes have gone by with the three of them chatting about nothing terribly significant and he hasn’t got any closer to his goal for the day, which was to figure out if Percival is gay or just a good person to do sport with.
“I’ve got to go,” Merlin says eventually. “Gwaine’s in the kitchen, which is fine for the most part, but I’m due in so he can go out tonight.” He stands up and waves his friends over. “I’m headed out, you guys!”
Lancelot is the first one to jog over, and he freezes guiltily when he sees Arthur. Arthur grimaces, and Elena steps forward. “You must be Lance! We’re friends of Gwen’s, actually, and she’s told us all about you.” That breaks the ice, even if it makes them look shocked to a man (or woman, in the case of the one girl, who introduces herself as Freya and then draws Merlin off to the side to whisper at him).
Percival is the last to lope over, having apparently had to retrieve the ball, and gives Arthur a big smile when he sees him, which is a good sign. And then he looks at Elena. And Elena looks back.
“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” says Arthur thirty seconds later, when they haven’t said anything and the group around them has quieted to stare at whatever’s going on. It seems Percival isn’t gay after all. “Ellie, get his number and let’s go home, okay?”
That makes both of them blush and Elena swat him on the arm, and Arthur engages Lance in conversation while they work their way through introductions and make tentative plans for dinner. Lance seems determined to keep things from being awkward, but Arthur catches Merlin giving him a very odd look over his shoulder before he leaves.
Five minutes later, he and Elena are on their way out of the park, and she’s slowly coming down from giddy glee into an expression that he knows means that she’s only just realized that for the second time in less than a month he’s taken an interest in a bloke only for said bloke to take an interest in one of his best friends. “I am so sorry,” she says eventually.
Arthur would very much like to be angry, but he’s never been able to get angry at Elena for long. “Can’t be helped. Apparently he isn’t into men. I’m more worried about the fact that I’ve suddenly started being interested in straight men than in your budding romance, to be honest.”
She squints at him before changing the subject. “Merlin seems nice.”
“I suppose so. You two hit it off pretty well. Before you met Percival, I rather wondered--”
Elena starts laughing. “Merlin’s gayer than a maypole, Arthur, honestly, and you cured me of trying for lost causes when we were fifteen.”
Arthur blinks at that particular tidbit, which he’d somehow missed out on entirely (despite the neckerchiefs he’s worn … and the fact that he was apparently browsing the “m4m” section on Craigslist. In retrospect, he really ought to have picked up on that), but he can’t bring it up because he has to scold her for bringing up the virginity incident that they definitely don’t speak of and by the time he’s walked her home he’s forgotten all about it.
*
A month after Lance’s first date with Gwen (and a week and a half after Percival’s first date with Elena), someone has the brilliant idea that their groups of friends should meet, since half of them are dating already. Merlin suspects it was Gwen’s idea, from what he’s heard of her, and while he would dearly love to avoid Arthur for, oh, forever, Elena was nice enough and he can’t wait to see who it is that’s got Lance so besotted. He hasn’t dated anyone seriously since Freya in uni. So Merlin does the only logical thing: he suggests his restaurant as the meeting-place and then proceeds to shut himself in the kitchen with the excuse that he’s got to make sure the food is perfect for his new friends.
“You’re a coward,” Will informs him about fifteen minutes before the group is supposed to arrive.
“I’ve got a restaurant to run, and it’s not like we’ve got enough staff that I can afford to take a night off to sit about and watch Arthur make eyes at you or Gwaine or whoever else he decides he wants to fuck next.”
“So it is about your massive crush on Craigslist Bloke. Mate, did anyone ever tell you that you’re a bit pathetic?”
“You do, at least once a week, and I don’t have a crush on Arthur. Couldn’t you have sent Freya back here?”
“Freya is reminding Gwaine of his manners, and you don’t need sympathy, you need me.”
“I own Ealdor, Will, and I’m the best chef we’ve got.” He grins. “So it’s only partly an excuse. But Arthur’s an arse and he doesn’t like me very much, so I’m happy staying back here and only coming out at the end.”
“Coward,” repeats Will, and Merlin tosses his order booklet at him and sends him out, since he’s on shift tonight as well. The problem with employing most of his friends is that they can rarely do something all at the same time.
Merlin gets to work, since it’s a busy night and only him and prep cook in the kitchen. Eventually, Freya comes back with the orders from their table of friends. “Elena asked after you,” she says. “Arthur did as well, actually.” Merlin tries not to react to that because of course Arthur is going to be polite, everyone is on their best behavior. Freya pats his arm anyway and sets about helping him with the meals everyone ordered. “We don’t have to worry about Lance or Percival either,” she offers after a few seconds. “Gwen is just as infatuated as Lance, and Elena’s a bit less obvious but she seems sweet.”
The pause that comes next is very telling. “What’s Arthur doing, Freya?”
“He and Gwaine seem to be getting along quite well,” she says brightly.
Merlin ignores his own disappointment (and he has no right to be disappointed considering he’s met this bloke three times and knows that he is definitely not Arthur’s type if he’s hit on Lance, Percival, and Gwaine now) in favour of putting an arm around Freya. “I’m so sorry, Frey. He’s an arse. They both are.”
“It’s not like I’m not used to it,” she points out, and Merlin nods and gives her a spoonful of the sauce he’s making. Freya isn’t waiting on Gwaine, precisely, since she dates other people, but she’s still at least a bit in love with him. And she’s the only person of appropriate age in the greater Camelot area with working reproductive organs who Gwaine hasn’t tried to put the moves on, which definitely means something. “Anyway, I’ve got to go back out there. If it doesn’t get too busy, maybe you could serve the meals? We’ve been talking about you, and Gwen and Leon and Morgana want to meet you.”
“I’ll see what I can do,” he promises, and Freya kisses his cheek before she leaves again, carrying a few entrees for other customers.
As it happens, there is something of a lull when he’s about finished everyone’s dinners, so he loads up a tray and brings out half of them, signalling Will as he comes out to get the rest. Lance waves him over with a grin, his other hand occupied holding that of a pretty brown-skinned girl with a wide smile and curly hair, who must be Gwen. That makes it easy to identify Leon, who has a beard and might just rival Percival for height, and Morgana, who looks like a supermodel. “Hello again, Merlin,” says Elena while Freya swings by to help him distribute the plates to the correct people. “I’m sorry you can’t join us tonight.”
“I really need to hire another chef so I can have a night off once in a while,” he says, smiling around at everyone else as Will arrives with the rest of the plates.
Within the five minutes Merlin allows himself talking to his friends, he makes several observations: he and Gwen are going to adore each other, first off. She reminds him of his mother in all the best ways and she lights Lance up like nobody else he’s ever seen. He suspects he will adore Leon and Morgana as well, if he can get over being mildly terrified of Morgana, but he knows that they’re sleeping together (which apparently Arthur and Elena haven’t figured out, though Merlin isn’t sure about Gwen). And Arthur is definitely flirting with Gwaine, who normally would be charming him right back but isn’t.
When he notices that, he looks around for Freya, who’s off seating a couple who just came in, so Merlin makes a note to ask her about that later and then excuses himself back to the kitchen. Will comes in twenty minutes later. “Gwaine says to cook yourself whatever you want to eat tonight and then get out there, he’ll take the rest of your shift.”
“I thought that he and Arthur had hit it off. What’s up?”
“I don’t know. They had a heated discussion and then he flagged me down and that was that.” Merlin reads between the lines and tries not to groan. Gwaine’s always been a bit protective of Merlin, probably to make up for the fact that he was a bit of a twat way back at the beginning when they were in their second year at uni and Merlin thought that sleeping with Gwaine was the start of a relationship and Gwaine just wanted to be mates. Probably he told Arthur he wouldn’t sleep with him out of some misguided sense of nobility, which means that Merlin is going to go out there blushing cherry red because if Gwaine told Arthur that Merlin’s got a crush on him while he was letting him down …
“I need new friends.”
“Well, get out there and audition the others for the job. Handy, right?” Will sweeps back out with a few more plates.
Merlin makes himself a dinner out of leftover bits of other people’s. Nothing he would serve to a customer, but good enough when cooking for himself is a luxury he rarely gets to indulge in. Gwaine comes in after fifteen minutes, claps him on the shoulder, and kicks him out with his plate when Merlin tries to ask what he’s in for.
Part Two
Wordcount: ~12,500
Summary: Merlin's addicted to Craigslist, Arthur's looking for love in all the wrong places, and with a little help from their friends, they manage to get it together.
A/N: This started as a little palate cleanser after the Feast of Angst that this journal has been lately, and then sort of ... grew. Some Arthur/Others and Merlin/Others, but ... have faith in the endgame. Title by the Rustic Overtones.
Disclaimer: I do not own Merlin.
Merlin is about to click what he swears is his last link for the night when he sees the subject line:
Saw you in Ealdor - m4m (Camelot)
And Merlin’s always been a bit of a romantic with a secret love of reading personal ads for fun (thus why he’s on Craigslist when he should have been asleep for at least an hour), but he’s never actually run across a story that he could be part of. Hell, it could be for him. Ealdor is his restaurant, after all, so Merlin clicks the link with a completely stupid amount of butterflies in his stomach.
I came in just before close to get out of the rain. You and a friend were laughing and washing tables down, but you brought me a coffee anyway without my asking. Your friend was talking to you, but I feel like you and I had a moment when I paid. Maybe this is a bit of a long shot, but I would love to see you again. Message me if you see this?
-Location: Camelot
-It is NOT okay to contact this poster with services or other commercial interests
And the thing is, Merlin remembers this. It was absolutely pissing down three days ago, and he and Lance had been clearing up from a quiet night, since Merlin had finished cleaning the kitchen, when a blond in a suit came in, dripping and annoyed and completely fucking gorgeous. He’d smiled and asked if they’d mind him sitting down for a while while the rain spent itself and Merlin had told him it wasn’t a problem and made a coffee and sent Lance over with it because he can’t talk to men without falling over himself. And then went back to teasing Lance for being completely besotted with the new woman he’d … shit. Isn’t that just Merlin’s luck. He meets a gorgeous bloke in his restaurant, gorgeous bloke proves on Craigslist that he is in fact interested in men … gorgeous bloke is pining for Merlin’s straight best friend/employee.
Which means that now Merlin is left with the huge quandary of what to do. The least creepy solution would probably be to pretend he didn’t see it or recognize the situation. But then he imagines the blond bloke, maybe as much of a secret romantic as Merlin, fretting to himself that maybe he missed out on a chance at destiny and maybe missing out on other chances at destiny while pining for Lance (Merlin admits that he perhaps gets a bit maudlin in the middle of the night after a long shift in the kitchen). The kindest solution would be forwarding the link to Lance and letting him respond and gently let the bloke down. But Lance is the noblest person that he knows and it would absolutely kill him to do that and he would feel guilty for weeks. So instead Merlin clicks the reply button and tries not to overthink.
You are going to think this is incredibly creepy, he writes eventually, but I’m the friend you mentioned, of the guy at Ealdor. You were the blond with the suit and the red tie, right? And you seem really nice, which is why I’m really sorry to say that my friend is straight, got a girlfriend and everything. And I would have sent this on to him so he could respond, but then he would feel guilty forever, and I can’t be responsible for that. He’s just got this thing about eye contact, because he wants to be a businessman and he reads all these self-help books about being an effective person and--
Merlin deletes that last sentence.
Anyway, mate, best of luck in future. And sorry again, both for being a creeper and for giving the bad news.
After that, he logs off for the night and goes to bed feeling inexplicably glum.
His phone wakes him in the morning instead of his alarm, blaring “Baba O’Riley” at him, which means Gwaine is calling to enthuse about his latest lay or complain about being hungover. It’s about even odds which one. Merlin gives serious thought to not answering before remembering his exhausted message to the Craigslist guy the night before, and then he has to pick up, because he needs to rant at someone about it, and he can’t do it to Lance (or, by extension, Percival). “Gwaine,” he says the second he picks up the phone, “is it possible to unsend a message on Craigslist?”
Gwaine, because he’s an arse, immediately starts cracking up. “Merl, did you get drunk and try to cyber some bloke?”
“No! It’s just … this guy posted on Craigslist, a missed connection in Ealdor, and it was about Lance, and I felt sorry for the poor guy so I, you know, messaged him to tell him that Lance is straight, and I feel like a complete arse.”
It takes more than a full minute for Gwaine to get his laughter under control, and Merlin spends the whole time with his face flaming and buried in his pillow. “Mate, this definitely beats what I was going to talk to you about this morning,” Gwaine manages at last.
“What were you going to talk to me about?” Merlin asks hopefully, voice still a bit muffled by the pillow. If he gets Gwaine talking about whoever he shagged last night (and this sounds far more like a post-shag phone call than a post-binge phone call), maybe he’ll forget about Merlin being a complete idiot.
“Blonde bird. Lovely tits. Really annoying. Think I might switch to blokes for a bit after this, the ladies are a bit too high-maintenance for me these days. Come on, I’m more interested in your story. Who’s the guy?” Gwaine pauses and starts laughing again. “Oh, Merl, no, tell me it’s not the suit you were swooning over the other night.”
“I was not swooning!” Merlin cries, lifting his head, and then buries it again because of course Gwaine will take that as an admission, which it kind of is. “Stop laughing,” he adds after a miserable moment.
“Mate, I have got to tell Will about this.” Merlin groans. “Come on. You knew the second you showed weakness we would tease you till you squirm. You think it’s just so funny whenever something like this happens to us, and now it’s you.” He sounds far too gleeful for Merlin’s taste.
“Could I at least get a bit of sympathy? Normally Lance is my go-to guy for that, but he’d be so upset if he found out.”
Merlin flails his way out of bed and opens up his laptop. “You’re going to have to tell him eventually, you know,” says Gwaine. “He’ll be so disappointed if you don’t.”
“Not just yet, though,” says Merlin as he opens up his e-mail. “Oh, shit, he actually responded. Isn’t it the done thing to pretend that your correspondent was drunk, or to call him an arsehole and not answer?”
“Well, what does he say?” asks Gwaine.
Merlin’s heart sinks when he opens the message. Yeah, that’s me. Guess it was too much to hope for. Thanks. “Mate.” “Thanks,” says Merlin. “He says thanks.”
*
“So,” Arthur says over breakfast, and all four people with him snap to look at him immediately. “I actually got a response on the Craigslist thing.”
All three of the women beam at him immediately, though Leon looks a bit apprehensive. “I knew it was the right thing to do,” crows Morgana.
“From the man’s friend, apologizing and telling me he’s straight, with a girlfriend no less,” Arthur finishes, and all four of them visibly deflate. “I mean, he was nice enough about it, I suppose, but there isn’t really a good way to say that.”
“I’ll go get us some more coffee,” says Leon, which is his way of making sure he doesn’t have to console Arthur. Not that Arthur needs consoling.
The ladies swap looks. Morgana drops out first, predictably enough, leaving Gwen and Elena to telegraph at each other across the table. Gwen wins out at last, and turns to Arthur with a face full of sympathy. “He is just one man, Arthur. It doesn’t mean you have to give up on all of them.”
“Did I say that I was? I don’t believe I ever said that. It’s just a bit lowering, that’s all. And proof that I needn’t put something up on the internet every time I make eye contact with a man, Morgana.” And a reminder that if he does put things on the internet like that he needs to bloody stop thinking that it’s all going to end like some soppy film. “Anyway, I just wanted to let you lot know.”
Leon picks that moment to return with a tray of coffee for them all, and the girls all exchange looks and sigh, but stop bothering him. “Tell us about the new boyfriend,” says Elena when they’re all sipping their drinks and looking warily at each other, turning to Gwen.
Gwen turns pink. “Well, he’s not my boyfriend, for one. It’s only been two dates. And we’re planning a third. But really, he’s lovely. I think you all will love him. His name’s Lance, and he’s a perfect gentleman. He tends bar at the moment, but he wants to go into marketing …”
Morgana flaps a hand about. “Never mind that! We want to know what he looks like.” Leon looks around hopefully for someone to exchange a long-suffering look with, and Arthur indulges him, since he’s already heard at least five minutes of Gwen telling him how perfect this new bloke is and really doesn’t care to hear more.
“I can get Facebook on my phone,” Elena offers, and hands it over to Gwen, who is still blushing but looking so pleased that Arthur can’t actually bring himself to roll his eyes and start talking footie with Leon, which he would really like to do. The girls tend to forget that just because he’s gay doesn’t actually mean that he’s a girl. Well, Morgana forgets nothing, but she also delights in torturing him.
“There,” says Gwen after a few minutes, and Morgana and Elena immediately crowd close to look. “That’s him with his friend … Merlin, I think it is? He talks about him all the time, but I haven’t met him yet. He’s the one on the left.”
“Ooo, he’s quite handsome.” Elena grins at her. “I might just take him for myself.” Gwen swats her and Morgana giggles and the whole thing is getting unbearable when Elena takes her phone back and waves it at Arthur. “Here, you look too, tell Gwen how hot he is.”
Arthur takes it, preparing to say something polite and then drag Leon off to the gym and away from the girls, and stops to stare the second he’s taken the phone, because there on the screen is the man from Ealdor and the friend who sent Arthur the message. “You have got to be kidding me,” he says. “Well, at least what’s-his-name wasn’t lying about him having a girlfriend. My Lord, he has the most unfortunate ears known to mankind.”
All four of them gape at him. Leon and Morgana recover almost in unison, followed shortly by Elena. Gwen is last to get her composure back, but she’s the first one to speak. “Arthur, you can’t be--are you--Lance was the guy?”
“Unless Lance is the unfortunate with the ears, then yes, Lance was the guy.” Arthur grimaces and gives Elena back her phone. She pats his hand as he does. “I know you and I have always had similar taste, but really, this is a bit excessive.”
“Well, obviously I won’t see him any longer. It isn’t fair to you,” says Gwen, but she looks absolutely miserable as she says it. They’ve all been hearing about Lancelot the Perfect for weeks now and he can’t bear to break that up, even though he’d really like to.
Well, he can only hope that whoever-it-is-with-the-ears will never tell Lance about the Craigslist Debacle. “Don’t be silly, Gwen. I can man up and face Lancelot and his perfect arse with aplomb, I promise. I won’t even ogle him.”
Gwen beams. “You are a star, Arthur. Maybe he’s got some gay friends?”
He glares at her. “I do have some pride, you know.”
Elena, apparently sensing that he wants to go and have a very manly and dignified session of beating his head against a wall, makes a far-too-exaggerated point of checking the time on her phone. “Well, would you look at that! Arthur, you and I are due at the … thing. You know.”
“Right, of course, Ellie, the thing. I hope you know that you’re useless,” says Arthur, but he stands and pulls out her chair for her while she does, mostly so she won’t knock it over. “I’ll see you lot tomorrow, shall I? Gwen, don’t you dare break up with Lance over me, he seems like a great guy.”
“I’ll see you at the gym later,” promises Leon, who will probably make his excuses within five minutes to let Morgana and Gwen gossip. Or perhaps Gwen will make her excuses and Leon will spend the next hour trying hard not to stare at Morgana and she pretends to be unconcerned. There was some funny business involving a night of tequila shooters about a month ago that he is still trying to unravel.
Arthur holds out his arm and Elena takes it, and they walk down the street. They’re barely out of earshot of the others before she squeezes his arm. “Are you going to be okay with this for real, darling?”
“Well, I don’t have much choice, do I? Gwen’s been rhapsodizing about destiny for weeks, I don’t have the heart to say I’d rather not see him again.”
“Morgana and I will protect you. And Leon.” Elena pats his arm again. “Now, how about we go for a run in the park or something? I should not have had that last waffle.”
“Come on, then. Back to my flat and we’ll get changed.” He ruffles her hair and she beams up at him, knowing exactly what he means by it.
*
When Merlin explains his friends to his mother (though of course she’s known Will forever), he says it’s like he has shoulder angels and shoulder devils doing double duty. Gwaine and Will get him in trouble and then mock him mercilessly, and Lancelot and Percival listen to him moan about it and sometimes offer advice. Although Percival mostly just nods and looks sympathetic (he’s the newest to their group, a friend of Lance’s met while backpacking across Europe, and Merlin isn’t entirely sure what to think of him yet. He seems nice enough, but he’s also very quiet and has very scary muscles and when he smiles he looks a bit dim. But then, Merlin’s smile doesn’t make him look all that bright so he’s not really one to judge). But he’s still firmly in shoulder-angel territory.
Lance and Percival also seem to share this misguided notion that Merlin ought to join the rest of them when they’re engaging in sport, which is why Merlin’s at the park when he should really be getting ready to prep tonight’s dinner ingredients with Percival gently lobbing a Frisbee in his direction and Will laughing his head off on a nearby bench.
“I’m never actually going to catch one,” he calls across the space between them. Percival has had the brilliant idea that perhaps if Merlin has more time to see the Frisbee coming he’ll be more likely to catch it.
“Just give it a shot,” says Percival encouragingly, and lobs the Frisbee gently in Merlin’s direction again.
The problem with Percival being six foot a million and built like a Greek god is that a gentle lob for him creates a flying plastic wheel of death, and it is aimed unerringly for Merlin’s chest this time. Merlin flails backwards and lands on his arse and nearly gets a Frisbee haircut (never mind that Frisbees aren’t sharp enough for that).
Instead of hearing it skim across the grass in the distance, though, he hears a huff and the sound of someone catching it, followed by a laugh. “Good toss. You all right there?”
Merlin turns around, knowing his ears are going red, even as Will starts laughing again. There, to compound his humiliation, is the Craigslist Bloke, who is (a week after Merlin’s faux pas) already a legend in their group. He’s not wearing a suit this time, since he appears to be out for a run, and he’s sweaty and maybe glowing a bit in the sun, though that might also be the fact that he’s a bit backlit and Merlin is still sitting on his arse like a complete idiot. “Yeah, I’m fine.”
Percival, it appears, has jogged over to make sure Merlin is okay, and the blond steps right forward to shake his hand, and Merlin misses half the handshake because he’s standing up and brushing himself off, but when he gets up the Craigslist Bloke is pretty blatantly checking Percival out. Merlin’s heart sinks, which he refuses to admit. “Do you play here often?”
It occurs to Merlin that he actually has no idea if Percival likes men or not. Chances are if he was Gwaine would have seduced him by now. Or even Will. Or Merlin, if he was drunk enough. Their group of friends can be a bit incestuous. But then, he hasn’t tried to seduce Freya either. Maybe he’s a robot, since humans are not actually built like that. “Every once in a while. That was a great catch.”
“It was catch or be hit. Or fall on my arse,” says the blond, arching his eyebrows and turning to Merlin to include him in the joke (which is decent of him, even if he is sort of an arse) before freezing. “Oh, shit, it’s you.”
That quite neatly answers the question of whether he’d made any impression at all that first time, since he’s been recognized. It doesn’t really answer the question of what the hell he’s supposed to do now, because Will has suddenly materialized at his side, as he is wont to do, looking a bit murderous that anyone is less than pleased to see Merlin, which he is also wont to do. Percival just looks between them with a benign, confused sort of expression. Merlin really doesn’t want to deal with their reaction to meeting Craigslist Bloke, so he raises his eyebrows significantly like his Uncle Gaius does and hopes the other man follows his lead. “Oh, you’re the one who nearly knocked me over on the subway the other day,” he says, since it’s the first excuse that comes to mind considering the vaguely hunted look on Craigslist Bloke’s face.
“I’m what? I mean, I am. Sorry.”
“Mate, you are the worst liar I know,” says Will, who is heartless. “So, are you Craigslist Bloke?”
“I’m Arthur, actually.” It’s pretty easy to see that Arthur is trying hard to look neutral, but he’s also going a bit pink in the cheeks. “And who are all of you?” He looks pointedly at Percival, and Merlin has to admire his persistence, even if he also rather wants to sink into a hole.
Will is laughing too hard to answer. Merlin is giving serious thought to just babbling an excuse about the restaurant and running. Thus, Percival answers. “I’m Percival. It’s good to meet you, Arthur. This is Will and Merlin.”
Merlin could kiss him for not mentioning the Craigslist thing even though he thought it was a bit funny as well (Lancelot did not. Lancelot is still feeling guilty about it, in fact, and Merlin probably owes him chocolate truffles for that). Arthur relaxes. “I can’t stay long, I’m afraid. Meeting up with my sister for dinner. But it was great to meet you, Percival. And Merlin and Will, of course. Perhaps I’ll see you around here again, play some Frisbee.”
He jogs off. Merlin looks from Percival, who’s looking uncharacteristically thoughtful, to Will, who’s red-faced from laughing. “I’m going to go apologize to him and then head to the restaurant. I’ll see you guys later.”
Before Will can start mocking him again, Merlin runs off after Arthur and flags him down where he’s leaving the park. “Can I help you?” Arthur asks when he notices him, clearly not as willing to play nice when he’s not around Percival. “Are you here to tell me that none of your other friends are gay either?”
“You are such a prat,” blurts Merlin, and curses himself when Arthur looks ready to give him a piece of his mind. “No, sorry, sorry, I came to apologize. I’ve honestly got no idea if Percival is gay, you’ll have to ask him that yourself. I just … I was sort of mortified about being an arse and sending you that message and I told Gwaine, which was obviously a mistake because Gwaine can’t keep his fucking mouth shut, and--”
“Christ, do you ever shut up? Apology accepted. Watch out for any flying Frisbees.” And with that, Arthur walks off down the street, in the opposite direction to where Merlin needs to go.
“What an arse,” Merlin mutters, and stomps off towards Ealdor.
*
“Elena. Darling.”
“You already owe me about six favors, Arthur,” she replies, handing him the figures he ostensibly called her into his office to give him, never mind the head of Design probably shouldn’t be running errands for the CEO.
“I thought you might want to come to the park with me after work.”
Elena stares at him for several seconds and then shuts his office door, effectively cutting Sophia off from listening in on their conversation. “Alright, spill. You’ve been awfully secretive the past couple days, and now you want to go to the park. And you didn’t mention running.”
“I--well, there might be a guy. At the very least he’s good at Frisbee even if nothing comes of it. But there are a few complications, so I didn’t really want to mention.”
She sighs at him and sits down in the chair on the other side of his desk. “You are such a bloke. Why is my gay best friend such a man about everything?”
“Because I am a man. You need to work on your stereotyping.” He gives her a long look that he hopes reminds her of the fact that she hates shopping and shoes and is usually the one who instigates their runs or rides or games of football.
“So what kind of complications are there? Not sure if he’s gay?”
“Well, that. And he was playing Frisbee with the guy who messaged me on Lance’s behalf on Craigslist.”
Elena stares at him for a few seconds and then bursts out laughing. “One thing I can say for you, Arthur, is that your life is never boring.”
He reminds himself that he’s asking her for a favour and should be nice until she caves. Morgana he would attack immediately, but he also doesn’t intend to tell Morgana about any romantic developments until he’s planning to get married, considering her last advice led to his complete humiliation. “Come on, just a casual walk through the park. I’ll even buy you ice cream, after.”
“I am not six.” Arthur just looks at her. “What kind of ice cream?”
Arthur laughs, since that signals the beginning of her complete capitulation, and changes the subject to work. At five fifteen she comes to his office and drags him out, giving their excuses to Leon and Morgana on the way. Morgana’s look promises retribution, but there isn’t time to worry about that before Elena tows him down the street towards the park.
Just as he was hoping, Percival is tossing a ball around with some friends--Merlin and what’s-his-face, the one who about split his sides laughing when he figured out who Arthur was, are both there as well, though Merlin is reading a book on a bench and not dodging throws, as well as a timid-looking girl with a wicked throw. Lance is there too, however, and Arthur nearly turns around and leaves when he notices that. The only thing that stops him is Elena’s hand tightening on his arm. “I will tell Morgana about all this if you chicken out,” she hisses, which isn’t fair in the least.
“Merlin,” he says as jovially as he can manage, since that seems like the easiest way to get into the group.
Merlin’s head jerks up and he goes through a wide array of expressions in a very short time, settling in the end on a crumpled, long-suffering sort of squint. It makes him look disconcertingly like Leon for a second. “Arthur. Who’s your friend?”
“I’m Elena King, and it’s a pleasure to meet you.” Elena shakes Merlin’s hand, with enough force that Merlin looks bewildered when she lets go, and beams at him. “What are you reading?”
“Cookbook.” He holds it up, still giving Arthur sidelong glances. “Quite a coincidence to see you here again, Arthur.”
Arthur interrupts before Elena can try to lie on behalf, because she’s tried before and it never ends well. “Elena and I are winding down from a stressful meeting. Why aren’t you playing with your friends?”
Merlin mutters something under his breath involving the word “mother.” “I’m accident-prone and I have a reprieve today because I can’t make souffle with a concussion.”
“You like cooking?” asks Elena, sitting down next to Merlin and dragging Arthur down next to her so they’re all squished on the bench.
“I’m a chef. I own the Ealdor, downtown. It was my Da’s, and after he … uh, my mother ran it until I had my degree, and then I took over so she could get out of the city like she’s been wanting to do forever, and you probably didn’t want to know that.”
“Nonsense.” Elena proceeds to embark on a remarkably thorough investigation of Merlin’s life, family, and friends. The last gets him to mention Percival, among others, so Arthur makes a note to thank her for the information while he watches whatever game they’re playing. Then she drags him into talking about the office and before he knows it fifteen minutes have gone by with the three of them chatting about nothing terribly significant and he hasn’t got any closer to his goal for the day, which was to figure out if Percival is gay or just a good person to do sport with.
“I’ve got to go,” Merlin says eventually. “Gwaine’s in the kitchen, which is fine for the most part, but I’m due in so he can go out tonight.” He stands up and waves his friends over. “I’m headed out, you guys!”
Lancelot is the first one to jog over, and he freezes guiltily when he sees Arthur. Arthur grimaces, and Elena steps forward. “You must be Lance! We’re friends of Gwen’s, actually, and she’s told us all about you.” That breaks the ice, even if it makes them look shocked to a man (or woman, in the case of the one girl, who introduces herself as Freya and then draws Merlin off to the side to whisper at him).
Percival is the last to lope over, having apparently had to retrieve the ball, and gives Arthur a big smile when he sees him, which is a good sign. And then he looks at Elena. And Elena looks back.
“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” says Arthur thirty seconds later, when they haven’t said anything and the group around them has quieted to stare at whatever’s going on. It seems Percival isn’t gay after all. “Ellie, get his number and let’s go home, okay?”
That makes both of them blush and Elena swat him on the arm, and Arthur engages Lance in conversation while they work their way through introductions and make tentative plans for dinner. Lance seems determined to keep things from being awkward, but Arthur catches Merlin giving him a very odd look over his shoulder before he leaves.
Five minutes later, he and Elena are on their way out of the park, and she’s slowly coming down from giddy glee into an expression that he knows means that she’s only just realized that for the second time in less than a month he’s taken an interest in a bloke only for said bloke to take an interest in one of his best friends. “I am so sorry,” she says eventually.
Arthur would very much like to be angry, but he’s never been able to get angry at Elena for long. “Can’t be helped. Apparently he isn’t into men. I’m more worried about the fact that I’ve suddenly started being interested in straight men than in your budding romance, to be honest.”
She squints at him before changing the subject. “Merlin seems nice.”
“I suppose so. You two hit it off pretty well. Before you met Percival, I rather wondered--”
Elena starts laughing. “Merlin’s gayer than a maypole, Arthur, honestly, and you cured me of trying for lost causes when we were fifteen.”
Arthur blinks at that particular tidbit, which he’d somehow missed out on entirely (despite the neckerchiefs he’s worn … and the fact that he was apparently browsing the “m4m” section on Craigslist. In retrospect, he really ought to have picked up on that), but he can’t bring it up because he has to scold her for bringing up the virginity incident that they definitely don’t speak of and by the time he’s walked her home he’s forgotten all about it.
*
A month after Lance’s first date with Gwen (and a week and a half after Percival’s first date with Elena), someone has the brilliant idea that their groups of friends should meet, since half of them are dating already. Merlin suspects it was Gwen’s idea, from what he’s heard of her, and while he would dearly love to avoid Arthur for, oh, forever, Elena was nice enough and he can’t wait to see who it is that’s got Lance so besotted. He hasn’t dated anyone seriously since Freya in uni. So Merlin does the only logical thing: he suggests his restaurant as the meeting-place and then proceeds to shut himself in the kitchen with the excuse that he’s got to make sure the food is perfect for his new friends.
“You’re a coward,” Will informs him about fifteen minutes before the group is supposed to arrive.
“I’ve got a restaurant to run, and it’s not like we’ve got enough staff that I can afford to take a night off to sit about and watch Arthur make eyes at you or Gwaine or whoever else he decides he wants to fuck next.”
“So it is about your massive crush on Craigslist Bloke. Mate, did anyone ever tell you that you’re a bit pathetic?”
“You do, at least once a week, and I don’t have a crush on Arthur. Couldn’t you have sent Freya back here?”
“Freya is reminding Gwaine of his manners, and you don’t need sympathy, you need me.”
“I own Ealdor, Will, and I’m the best chef we’ve got.” He grins. “So it’s only partly an excuse. But Arthur’s an arse and he doesn’t like me very much, so I’m happy staying back here and only coming out at the end.”
“Coward,” repeats Will, and Merlin tosses his order booklet at him and sends him out, since he’s on shift tonight as well. The problem with employing most of his friends is that they can rarely do something all at the same time.
Merlin gets to work, since it’s a busy night and only him and prep cook in the kitchen. Eventually, Freya comes back with the orders from their table of friends. “Elena asked after you,” she says. “Arthur did as well, actually.” Merlin tries not to react to that because of course Arthur is going to be polite, everyone is on their best behavior. Freya pats his arm anyway and sets about helping him with the meals everyone ordered. “We don’t have to worry about Lance or Percival either,” she offers after a few seconds. “Gwen is just as infatuated as Lance, and Elena’s a bit less obvious but she seems sweet.”
The pause that comes next is very telling. “What’s Arthur doing, Freya?”
“He and Gwaine seem to be getting along quite well,” she says brightly.
Merlin ignores his own disappointment (and he has no right to be disappointed considering he’s met this bloke three times and knows that he is definitely not Arthur’s type if he’s hit on Lance, Percival, and Gwaine now) in favour of putting an arm around Freya. “I’m so sorry, Frey. He’s an arse. They both are.”
“It’s not like I’m not used to it,” she points out, and Merlin nods and gives her a spoonful of the sauce he’s making. Freya isn’t waiting on Gwaine, precisely, since she dates other people, but she’s still at least a bit in love with him. And she’s the only person of appropriate age in the greater Camelot area with working reproductive organs who Gwaine hasn’t tried to put the moves on, which definitely means something. “Anyway, I’ve got to go back out there. If it doesn’t get too busy, maybe you could serve the meals? We’ve been talking about you, and Gwen and Leon and Morgana want to meet you.”
“I’ll see what I can do,” he promises, and Freya kisses his cheek before she leaves again, carrying a few entrees for other customers.
As it happens, there is something of a lull when he’s about finished everyone’s dinners, so he loads up a tray and brings out half of them, signalling Will as he comes out to get the rest. Lance waves him over with a grin, his other hand occupied holding that of a pretty brown-skinned girl with a wide smile and curly hair, who must be Gwen. That makes it easy to identify Leon, who has a beard and might just rival Percival for height, and Morgana, who looks like a supermodel. “Hello again, Merlin,” says Elena while Freya swings by to help him distribute the plates to the correct people. “I’m sorry you can’t join us tonight.”
“I really need to hire another chef so I can have a night off once in a while,” he says, smiling around at everyone else as Will arrives with the rest of the plates.
Within the five minutes Merlin allows himself talking to his friends, he makes several observations: he and Gwen are going to adore each other, first off. She reminds him of his mother in all the best ways and she lights Lance up like nobody else he’s ever seen. He suspects he will adore Leon and Morgana as well, if he can get over being mildly terrified of Morgana, but he knows that they’re sleeping together (which apparently Arthur and Elena haven’t figured out, though Merlin isn’t sure about Gwen). And Arthur is definitely flirting with Gwaine, who normally would be charming him right back but isn’t.
When he notices that, he looks around for Freya, who’s off seating a couple who just came in, so Merlin makes a note to ask her about that later and then excuses himself back to the kitchen. Will comes in twenty minutes later. “Gwaine says to cook yourself whatever you want to eat tonight and then get out there, he’ll take the rest of your shift.”
“I thought that he and Arthur had hit it off. What’s up?”
“I don’t know. They had a heated discussion and then he flagged me down and that was that.” Merlin reads between the lines and tries not to groan. Gwaine’s always been a bit protective of Merlin, probably to make up for the fact that he was a bit of a twat way back at the beginning when they were in their second year at uni and Merlin thought that sleeping with Gwaine was the start of a relationship and Gwaine just wanted to be mates. Probably he told Arthur he wouldn’t sleep with him out of some misguided sense of nobility, which means that Merlin is going to go out there blushing cherry red because if Gwaine told Arthur that Merlin’s got a crush on him while he was letting him down …
“I need new friends.”
“Well, get out there and audition the others for the job. Handy, right?” Will sweeps back out with a few more plates.
Merlin makes himself a dinner out of leftover bits of other people’s. Nothing he would serve to a customer, but good enough when cooking for himself is a luxury he rarely gets to indulge in. Gwaine comes in after fifteen minutes, claps him on the shoulder, and kicks him out with his plate when Merlin tries to ask what he’s in for.
Part Two