A Fortunate Fall (14/18)
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Title: A Fortunate Fall
Fandom: Merlin (c) BBC
Genres: AU, Romance/Drama
Rating: PG-13/R
Words: 5303
Progress: 14/18
Summary: Single father Arthur Pendragon, at the end of his rope, finds a miracle in the form of a young cashier boy at the local convenience store. As for Merlin, he's not quite sure about what to make of his new job as an au pair for the wealthiest man in town; but he does know that his employer has more than a few skeletons in his closet.
Notes: Sorry for the late update! >.> I got sick and real life kicked in, and I think we all know how that goes. .__.;;
Thanks to Alyse for looking this over!
Previous Chapters found here: raspberry-pop.livejournal.com/tag/a+fortunate+fall
--
Now that he thought about it, Arthur supposed it was inevitable. In fact, he felt almost stupid for not expecting it. Uther Pendragon ran one of the most respectable computer companies in Europe-Pendragon Computers (PC for jokes) and it was supposed to be Arthur’s one day, the company literally had his name stamped in gold. It was at times like this when Arthur wondered why he didn't go into publishing or something. Companies at their core were almost practically the same; it wouldn't have made much difference at all except tha Uther would have never found him.
But computers were the one thing that Arthur had really liked to do, and no small amount of teenage rebellion could have flushed that completely out of his system. Sometimes, he wished he could, he'd even tried all sorts of different things in college in faraway New York where Uther didn't have that many pairs of eyes keeping tabs on him. Arthur had been one of those people that the guidance counselors hated because he changed his major every other week.
He had tried everything: from economics, journalism, even biochemistry. He had even been all right at all of those things...but his niche was still where it had been all along. Arthur was Uther Pendragon's only son, after all.
Things had been all right then. They really had been.
And then they suddenly weren't anymore.
“Arthur.”
Merlin's hand hadn't left his arm and Arthur was glad for the anchor that the gesture offered. He glanced over at Merlin. “I...um. We made a scene, didn't we?”
For a moment, Merlin looked uncertain, and then he shrugged, “Honestly, I think that should be the least of your worries at the moment. Are you...okay?”
“I don't know.” He replied, meaning it entirely, “I haven't seen ever since...since three years ago, give or take. It's just a shock. But we already fell out before that.”
He felt Alex tugging at his hand. “...Was that Grandpa?”
“Yes, Alex, it was.”
“Is Grandpa still mad?” Alex peered up at him.
It'd been three years. Arthur shrugged. He didn't have an answer for that. Suddenly, it was like he didn't know anything at all. He was numb, and hollow, and it was only fitting that a father he hadn't heard from in three years drew that kind of reaction from him. But somehow, it seemed three years had passed yesterday, and Arthur felt twenty-seven and stupid again. (Twenty-seven wasn't usually an age that one would associate with stupidity, but Uther Pendragon was something else.)
“Alex.” Merlin was shaking his head at the boy, Alex took the cue and fell silent again. He was holding Arthur's hand so tightly that Arthur couldn't feel his fingers.
He found that he didn't mind that much.
-
They were back at the hotel, Alex hastily excused himself into the bedroom to watch television, and Merlin was secretly glad that Alex was so good at picking up social cues. He watched Arthur mope to the couch, and Merlin felt lost again. First Arthur's wife, now Arthur's father. Even if he had the patience of a saint--
“I haven't seen my father in years.” Arthur spoke, head lolling dangerously against a cushion. “I haven't really thought about him, either. Of course we weren't really speaking before that, so that hardly matters, doesn't it?”
Merlin poured him a glass of water. “And here you are again.” If he sounded more than a little exasperated, it was because he was. “Arthur, it does matter. He's your father. The only one that you'll ever have. And I can't help you unless you start talking to me.”
Arthur sighed heavily.
“I don't hate Uther.”
“But...?” Merlin prompted as he threaded his fingers through Arthur's hair.
“But ever since I can remember, I don't think we've ever agreed on anything. We fought all the time. About everything, who my friends were, what classes I took in school, what I ate.” Arthur gave a dry chuckle. “And after my mother died, I moved out. We were never on very good terms to begin with. I just...didn't want to see him.”
Merlin knew without a doubt that Arthur was lying...or, if he wasn't, he was certainly telling him a generously censored version of what went on. “I'm sorry.” He said.
“I'm not lying.” Arthur said. “You probably think I am.”
Merlin looked at him. He didn't know how a person could look so confident and pathetic at the same time, but Arthur managed beautifully. “I wish...I wish you would tell me. I wouldn't think any different of you.”
“Because you already know that I'm pathetic.”
This was one of those times where Merlin really did want to thwack him. “Yes, you run your own company, you have an adorable kid, and you're probably one of the richest guys in the city. Yeah, you're real pathetic.”
“Merlin...”
Well, if Arthur was so determined to play the tough guy, he'd play the saint. “I really want to hit you, but you'll probably say you deserve it, so I'm not going to. Maybe Uther wants to make it up to you, you know?”
Arthur snorted, “Don't be ridiculous. Just because you're kind and naive doesn't mean everyone else is. He probably thanks that it's going to be fun to ruin my life some more.”
“Arthur, he's your father.”
“He's also Uther Pendragon.” Arthur shot back humorlessly.
Merlin really did want to hit him. But instead, he stood up and left Arthur there on the couch. “Where's your assistant staying? I'll go pick up your notes.” Since he couldn't exactly pry Arthur open with a screwdriver.
“The Sheraton a block away.”
-
Alex was sitting on the bed, watching the History Channel. Most kids his age would whine about their favorite cartoon not being on, but Alex was content with the History Channel. That used to bother Arthur a little, but he had gotten used to it. At least Alex wasn't perusing Dickens ten years early like Morgana had wanted him to.
“Dad.”
Arthur sat on the edge of the bed, “Hey, what are you watching?”
“It's a special on the Revolutionary War.” Alex crawled over to him. “It's not that violent, so don't worry.” His face was scrunched with concern, “You okay now?”
“Yeah...mostly.”
“Where'd Merlin go?”
“He went to pick up my notes for me.”
“Oh.” Alex seemed to mull this over, and then he looked at Arthur again, “Dad? You and Grandpa weren't like me and you when you were growing up, right?”
“Erm.” Arthur looked away. He could barely remember himself at five, almost six, and remembering himself with Uther was near impossible. “Not really, no. I was very close with your grandma.” Because that was easier to say than 'mother', less impersonal, somehow.
“What'd you guys do?”
“Um...well.” He hadn't talked about his mother in ages, in fact, Arthur really didn't talk about his family or his private life at all. Even with his son. “Your grandma liked to paint. She used to paint me, I could never sit still. While she painted, she'd tell me stories.”
Alex sprawled down on the bed, “What kind of stories?”
“I...I don't remember.”
“You don't want to remember, or you don't remember?”
“Alexander.”
Everyone seemed to be thoroughly against him today. Arthur watched his son blow hair out of his eyes. After a moment, Alex said, “You're mad,” he stated simply without looking at him.
“I'm not mad.” Arthur crossed his arms, “Do I sound mad or something?”
“No, not particularly,” Alex shrugged. “...It's just, I've noticed that I have to get you mad in order for you to tell me things.” The boy reached for the remote and flicked off the screen, “What did Grandpa do?”
“Alex. Alex.” Arthur shook his head, he wasn't going to protest that fact (because it was somewhat true) but, “It's not that simple, people don't just do things and then I get pissed-I mean, angry. You wouldn't get it if I explained it to you.”
“Dad--”
“Get what if you explained what to who?” Merlin peeked his head in the door. If Arthur's semi-spat earlier with Merlin put him in a bad mood...he was good at hiding it, as always. “I got your notes. Your assistant must have gone to med school at some point in his life.” He tossed the notepad onto the bed.
“I wasn't explaining anything to anyone,” Arthur said, pointedly ignoring Alex's glare. “...what makes you say that?”
“He's a neat freak.” Merlin flopped down on the bed, “His hotel room looks like it's been sanitized twice. And I can't make heads or tails of his handwriting. It's on the first five pages,” he glanced over at Arthur, “did you ever go to med school?”
Arthur shuddered, “I made it a point to try everything in college. Stopped short of med school. I decided it was going to give me nightmares. I'll puzzle it out later. Let's go have dinner.”
“...Arthur,” Merlin was giving him a disapproving look again.
“I'm fine.”
Merlin sighed, “So you say.”
Arthur cut eyes at him, “I'm not doing this in front of the kid.” He bit out between gritted teeth. “Let's just go.”
-
Arthur was certainly not in a good mood, and Merlin, although he plastered on a smile for Alex's sake, wished that he could make Arthur come down with a miraculous case of amnesia and then everything would be all right. Or perhaps that was too much to ask for. Or maybe he could brainwash Arthur into thinking that it was actually all right to talk about his problems-for once.
Because of course Arthur would think that not talking about his problems, not not bothering other people with them was manly; that it was something he was supposed to do. Probably he'd blame his behavior on the fact that he had simply grown up that way.
That kind of repression couldn't have been healthy for anybody, Arthur included...although he usually conveniently overlooked himself when thinking about the general population. Merlin was pretty sure he was wasting breath if he told Arthur that.
While thinking about that, it was kind of lost on Merlin that a tux clad waiter had shown them to a table at the back. It was every bit as fancy as the Robuchon was, but somehow, their respective worries clouded everything.
“Could the two of you stop being mopey? I can't eat with you two being so omnivorous.” Alex glanced at them.
“Omnivorous?” Arthur glanced at him.
“It means gloomy,” Alex gave his father a look. “Duh.”
“You mean ominous.” Merlin took a sip of his mineral water. He'd developed a liking for it, really, after realizing that Arthur didn't mind him ordering water that cost a lot of money; in fact, Arthur encouraged it. “Ominous is the one that means gloomy. Omnivorous means you eat meat and veggies.”
“...Oh.” Alex looked at once disinterested, “Well, then stop being that. What Merlin just said just now.”
Arthur coughed pointedly into his napkin and got to his feet. “I'm going to the restroom.”
After Arthur had left, Alex crossed his arms, “...Grandpa must have done something awful.” He said, leaning towards Merlin conspiratorially.
That much Merlin knew already, but he looked interested anyway, “What makes you say that?”
“Because...Dad always gets like that whenever something really bothering him. All you have to do though, is make him mad and he'll explode.”
“But Alex, I don't want Arthur to explode.” Merlin said, meaning it entirely. It'd probably be a bitch to clean up and more trouble than it was actually worth. “I honestly don't think you'd like it very much if your dad exploded.”
“Well, if Dad exploded, most likely I'd be stuck with you,” Alex reasoned mildly. "I wouldn't really mind that."
“Or maybe your Aunt Morgana.” Merlin reminded him.
Alex blanched. “...Ngh.”
Merlin reached over and squeezed the boy's hand, “I'm sure your dad just doesn't want us to worry. I'll make him tell me soon. He won't have to explode, either. Things aren't going to get that drastic.”
Arthur took this opportune moment to rejoin them at the table. Alex leaned away from Merlin and focused on his cranberry juice again.
Nobody ate very much, and Merlin thought they offended the waiter.
-
If there was one thing that Arthur really could complain about Merlin, it would be the fact that Merlin made everything his problem. Even things that didn't concern him at all-like Uther Pendragon, and that Arthur really just didn't like talking about his problems. They were Arthur's problems, no one else's, and really; there was almost no point to bother other people with them.
Besides, it wasn't like he didn't know how to deal with his problems, and not knowing about Arthur's problems were certainly not going to kill Merlin.
Merlin was putting away the three boxes of leftovers into the fridge, and Arthur watched his back.
“I wished we had alcohol.” Arthur said.
“You would.” Merlin's voice was devoid of all humor, “Call room service then.”
“I would, but room service doesn't operate after eleven pm.”
“I bet there's a liquor store around here, somewhere,” Merlin shut the fridge and straightened up, “It's Vegas. No one's even asleep, I'll bet everyone's just waking up...I'll go see--”
“Hang on,” Arthur held up a hand, “what the hell are you trying to do? Do you want to get away from me that badly?”
Merlin paused near the door, “I don't know what I'm trying to do. But I think you need some time to yourself. And you're the one that said you wanted liquor.”
“I thought you hate it when I drink.” Arthur looked at him.
“I certainly don't approve of it,” Merlin shrugged rather helplessly. “But since when have you cared about what I think? I mean, it's not my problem, and I don't have any say in whether or not you should drink, Arthur.”
The words stung, more than he'd ever thought they would. Arthur stared at him. “Merlin...you don't know what you're talking about.”
“I wish I did. You should tell me.”
“What would you do if I told you? Would you just kiss me and tell me not to worry about it and that everything's all right?” The words slipped before Arthur could bite off his own tongue. “What good would that even do?”
The silence that followed was a horrible one, it was hollow and deafening. Merlin unlocked the door, “Nothing.” He said, so calmly that it made Arthur's skin crawl, “Absolutely nothing. Happy now?”
Arthur was not. He refused to say so.
-
Sometimes, Arthur Pendragon really pissed him off. The nearest liquor store was only a half block away, but Merlin took his time and he only changed his mind when a half dressed girl who didn't look legal meandered up to him, so dangerously close so that Merlin could see that she wasn't wearing a bra. He ducked quickly into the nearest liquor store.
Arthur probably had a very high tolerance for alcohol...or maybe he was just high functioning while under influence. It was bad to be encouraging habits like these, but it wasn't like Arthur left Merlin any choice, as his employer seemed a lot more pleasant when he was caught unawares.
The cashier took one look at him and sighed as he rang up Merlin's bottles. “You got dumped, huh, kid?”
“I...” For some reason, Merlin found that funny. He laughed, “I look that miserable?”
--
When he got back to the hotel room, it was well after midnight, but the moment Merlin closed the door, Arthur sat up on the couch.
“What took you so long?”
Merlin would have slammed the bag down on the table for emphasis, but stopped short, as he remembered that Alex was asleep in the bedroom. He settled the bag on the carpet instead, “Went for a walk,” for the first time, Merlin sat in the armchair across from the couch. If Arthur was bothered by his decision, he did a great job of not showing it.
“And how was the walk?”
“Eventful until someone who's not legal showed interest.” Merlin deadpanned.
“Which is why I don't go out at night in Vegas.” Arthur shook his head at him. As if Arthur Pendragon really was the model poster child for all things good and holy.
“Noble of you.”
There was silence. Merlin studied Arthur's face in the dark, and realized that he didn't remember Arthur having so many creases of worry in his skin. Finally, he got up and fetched glasses from the cabinet, popping open a bottle, he filled both glasses to the brim and walked over to the couch. “Here...it probably tastes bad, but you wanted alcohol.”
“Alcohol is never supposed to taste good.”
“Hear, hear, from an alcoholic himself.” Merlin raised his glass mockingly and almost lost his balance when Arthur grabbed at him. He landed on top of Arthur, and there was a fresh stain on one of the cushions.
“I'm not an alcoholic.”
Yes, and Arthur (who was not an alcoholic, thank you very much) had already maneuvered Merlin enough to free his arms so that he could drain half of his glass. But Merlin, having the patience of a saint, stayed his hand. He lay there, his head tucked securely under Arthur's chin, staring at his glass and watching it almost tip.
-
More than an hour later, the liquor was warm in Arthur's stomach, and his mind was delightfully foggy. He didn't think he was completely drunk yet, as he was all too aware of the fact that Merlin had unbuttoned his shirt buttons--although it'd been a while since he'd been honestly drunk, so...
“We should have sex.” Arthur said mildly.
He felt Merlin shift above him, “What...?”
“I said, we should have sex,” Arthur studied Merlin’s face in the dark. “I’m probably going to be drunk enough after another glass.”
“...Arthur,” Merlin righted himself, straddling Arthur’s lap, “I think you’re already drunk enough.”
“Where’re you going?”
“I’m going to curl up on the armchair and go to sleep.” Merlin settled himself into the said armchair, “You know, since we’re flying tomorrow.”
“Is it because you don’t do drunk sex?” Arthur watched him.
“I really didn’t peg you as the type to use sex to numb your problems,” Merlin mumbled into a cushion. “You really do amaze me.” But then, he guessed that it shouldn’t surprising since Arthur found a way to exercise every vice available to him. Sex hadn’t been exactly available before.
“What can I say? I’m an amazing guy.”
Merlin turned away from him, “Actually yeah, you really are. G’night, Arthur.”
Arthur must have been thoroughly drunk, because he didn’t complain about Merlin’s answer at all.
--
When Merlin woke, he found himself tangled uncomfortably in the armchair, and the couch was empty. The glasses that had been left there on the table were gone too. Arthur was unexpectedly productive when he was hungover, Merlin had to give him that much. He uncurled himself from the armchair and stretched out on the floor.
“Merlin!”
Merlin blinked once, Alex’s face loomed worriedly over him, Merlin smiled at him. “Hey, morning. Where’s your dad?”
“Dad went down to the convention to say goodbye to some people.” Alex shrugged. “He said his left you a note on the fridge.”
Well...that was also surprising, that Arthur would be thoughtful enough to leave a note for him, even when he was hungover. It took Merlin several tries to get up from the carpet, but finally, he ambled over to the fridge where there was indeed a piece of hotel stationary tacked there.
Arthur’s handwriting certainly looked drunk.
Merlin:
Gone down the convention for some last-minute business. Can you make sure everything’s packed up to go?
The note lacked a thank you, and it lacked a signature. Typical Arthur. Merlin crumpled the note and chucked it in the trash. “In other words, pick up after you...sometimes I wonder why I bother.”
“Are you mad at Dad?” Alex asked helpfully.
“Not mad,” Merlin admitted. “Just a little annoyed. Come on, you can help me pack up the suitcases.”
“Okay!”
Thank goodness for Alex. He probably took Merlin’s warning about not growing up like Mordred to heart. Since it was a weekend trip and they didn’t have much luggage, it only took a couple of minutes to get everything in order.
“So I guess...there’s nothing to do but watch television until Dad comes back.” Alex jumped on the couch.
“...Yeah.” Merlin really didn’t feel like doing anything, except going home, going to sleep. Alex crawled into his lap.
They settled on a movie about whales on the Discovery Channel, and were about fifteen minutes into that when there was a loud rap on the door. Merlin started.
“Alex, did your dad forget his card key?” After all, Arthur was not quite sober, so that became a possibility.
“He took it with him this morning because I reminded him, so no.” Alex shook his head.
“I wonder who it is then,” Merlin mused, mostly to himself as he got up. “Might be a cleaning maid.” He unlocked the door and it beeped.
“I was hoping to see my son, is he here?”
Uther Pendragon was not wearing the same blue suit he had been wearing the previous morning, but Merlin remembered his face from the way that Arthur had paled, and the elderly man looked no less imposing in gray. “Uh...Arthur is not here at the moment,” it took Merlin a moment to collect his wits. “He went down to the convention, erm, Mr. Pendragon.”
Uther Pendragon looked unconvinced. Merlin swallowed rather painfully, and almost wished that Arthur was here so that he could be the target of intense scrutiny instead. He’d gone to sleep in the clothes that he he’d worn yesterday, and Merlin had a sinking feeling that all the wrinkles that the shirt had was probably coming back to haunt him.
Alex peered around Merlin’s legs, “...Grandpa?”
Uther Pendragon’s stern face resembled something that was not so threatening for the first time. “Alexander, I never thought you’d be here. How are you doing?” His voice was probably not used to sounding so kind, it cracked.
At first, the boy looked uncertain, but then Alex shrugged, “Okay. School got out, so Dad brought me.”
“I was hoping that Arthur would have better sense than to bring you to Vegas.” Uther muttered.
Merlin spoke before he could think better of it, “...Arthur was working the whole time, I looked after Alex.”
“And you would be?”
“Uh,” Merlin hesitated a moment, deciding in his own best interests to speak to his feet, no wonder Arthur was so intimidating when he set his mind to it. “Um, I’m Merlin Emrys...I work for Arthur, sort of,” at the moment, he also served other purposes, but it was probably in Arthur’s best interests if Uther Pendragon didn’t know about them.
“...Sort of?” Uther Pendragon raised an eyebrow and Merlin flinched.
“I mean, I work for him, but I don’t really have a title or anything...” Merlin faltered.
“...Dad?”
Merlin had never been so happy to hear Arthur’s voice coming up from the hallway, When Uther stepped away from the doorway, Merlin let out a breath that had been stuck in his throat.
“Dad, what are you doing here?” There was obvious spite in Arthur’s voice.
“A father can’t even see his own son?” Said Uther, who really didn’t looked that surprised at Arthur’s tone.
“I wonder,” Arthur was the one that sounded skeptical this time. He stepped into the hotel room, planting himself firmly between Merlin and his father, “What exactly prompted this?”
“Arthur--”
“I’m well,” Arthur said. “Rather, as well as you’d let me be. Which, surprisingly enough, does turn out to be very well. Sorry to disappoint you.” His hand tightened over Merlin’s on the doorknob, “I really have nothing to say to you. If you’ll excuse me.”
Merlin watched as the door closed in Uther’s face.
--
“It’s okay to leave it like that?” Merlin asked him later, when Arthur sprawled out face down on his bed. “It’s your dad.”
“As much as I’d like to think otherwise,” Arthur hauled himself up enough to drop his face on a pillow. “Whose side are you on, anyway?”
“Wasn’t aware that there was sides.” Merlin sank down on the bed and settled his head against Arthur’s back, “but seriously.”
Arthur was silent for a long moment, “But seriously, you should find another hobby besides being a mother hen, Merlin? It gets old,” he sighed. “Why don’t you go home and get some rest?”
--
“What the hell?” Mordred demanded as the box of unopened condoms dropped unceremoniously on top of his head. “...Oh.”
“I didn’t use them, so I’m giving them back.” Merlin said dryly, “I don’t want you to run out.”
“I don’t like what you’re implying.”
“Not implying anything, just saying.” Merlin dropped his bag of dirty clothes on the bed, “I really don’t know what the hell’s going one anymore.”
“What’s wrong with him now?” Mordred looked at him blandly.
“I don’t even know.” Merlin paused, “...I met his old man.”
“And?”
“Arthur’s going to be pretty scary when he’s sixty, that’s all; if his old man is of any indication.” Merlin kicked the bag off of the desk and curled up on his bed, “order pizza. I don’t feel like cooking.”
--
Arthur Pendragon wasn’t the type to expect too much from life. Early on, he’d learned that good things didn’t last...everything came back to bite you in the ass when you least expected it. Uther’s appearance was almost expected along this vein.
“Why the long face?” Margaret glanced at him, “I thought the convention was a success.”
“It was.”
“So what’s the problem?”
She followed him into his office and stood in the doorway, “There’s not really, actually. I can’t be in a bad mood?”
Margaret tilted her head, “Well, you’re always in a bad mood, it’s just recently...you’ve changed. So I just thought...”
“I met somebody at the convention,” Arthur said, sounding purposely vague. “And I’m still a bit pissed off about it.”
“Consider today your lucky day, then,” Margaret smiled vaguely and slid a file in front of him, “Happy birthday.”
“It’s not my birthday.” Arthur settled himself into his chair.
“It might as well be,” Margaret said, “...Take a look, you might like what you see.”
“You know, I hired you because you actually spoke proper English and told me what I liked to hear,” Arthur sighed, reaching for the file. “Please don’t make me regret my decisions, Margaret.”
“I thought you had more faith in me than that,” Margaret tapped her heels against the floor, “you can’t say you aren’t curious?”
Arthur was, but he didn’t really feel like letting Margaret in on that quite yet. It wasn’t everyday she sounded so optimistic, it wasn’t just him.
He picked up the file and flipped it open, “...What the hell?”
“I thought you’d be happy.”
Arthur wasn’t, he was horrified. Shocked beyond words. He was pretty sure his hands were shaking.
“I...”
“Arthur?”
“Are you trying to tell me,” Arthur said, “that’s a good thing that Uther Pendragon of Pendragon Computers paid all of CamSoft’s debts?”
“You mean, you don’t know?” Margaret looked surprised, “Over the phone, he sounded like he knew you well.”
Arthur’s head was spinning a hundred miles a minute. Uther Pendragon had paid his debts, for the first time in thirty years, his father had done something genuinely kind...it wasn’t half-assed, either. Arthur’s company wasn’t doing badly, but they had incurred a sizable amount of debt. Kaye had told him that they’d break even by early next year, maybe February, March, at the latest, by April.
Money was never a problem for Uther Pendragon. The last time Arthur had bothered to check, his father owned three houses on two different continents and a yacht.
“Arthur?”
“Yeah, he should know me very well,” Arthur couldn’t quite keep the bitterness out of his voice. He didn’t look at Margaret either. “I’m Uther Pendragon’s son, Margaret.”
“You’re his son?” Margaret practically gawked at him.
Arthur gave her a long look, “Surprises me too, sometimes,” he told her dryly. “Pick up your jaw and get me some coffee.”