A Fortunate Fall (1/18)
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Title: A Fortunate Fall
Fandom: Merlin (c) BBC
Genres: AU, Romance/Drama
Rating: PG-13/R
Words: 4587
Progress: 1/18 (if everything goes according to plan...prev. 1/20, but outline was revised)
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: A Fortunate Fall is my baby, this chapter took an entire two weeks to write and revise...I'm honestly a little scared about putting it up. But any feedback that you could give me would be absolutely awesome--including rotten tomatoes and potatoes and what have you. xD. A special appearance by genius!Mordred, because he's just that awesome. =)
--
"Arthur, I'm done." Morgana folded her arms, "Starting tomorrow, Alex goes to a daycare like other kids his age or you take him to work with you. But I'm done." She didn't look amused at all. "It's never too late to start picking up after yourself, you are thirty." Her tone was both motherly and disapproving, "You're a father; you have a responsibility to your work, as well as to your son. You have to grow up someday, Arthur. I'm tired of this."
Arthur Pendragon desperately, desperately needed a drink. He needed alcohol so badly that his head felt like it was going to split in two. In all respects, Arthur Pendragon and thirteen hour workdays didn't mesh so well. "Morgana--"
"I'm done, Arthur. Don't make me repeat myself." Morgana shot him a baleful glare as she swept out of the room, all lilac satin and French lace. "If you don't mind, I'm already more than fashionably late in meeting Owaine."
"But I can't take him to work with me." Arthur protested, already envisioning the havoc that Alex would cause if he were allowed to run amuck in the office. Arthur was proud of his son for being a quiet, manageable kid, but the fact that Alexander Pendragon was five-years-old still remained. Five-year-olds, in Arthur's mind, did not hold a great precedence, even if the said five-year-old was his own flesh and blood. "You know that."
"it's none of my concern, he's your son, and not mine. Hire an au pair for him if you have to. It's not like you can't afford it." Morgana's gaze was no less sour. "The trouble with you, Arthur, is that you try too hard to go out of your way in order to take advantage of people. We all tire of that eventually." She opened a door, the door led to her library. Alex was there, perched on one of the cushions, his head bent over a book. It was a rather thick spine and when Arthur squinted, he could make out the faded threads of the title: Shakespeare Anthology -- The Complete Works.
"Why is my son reading Shakespeare?" Arthur asked, finding the scene somewhat amusing and horrifying at the same time.
"Just because he's five doesn't mean he can't appreciate good literature." Morgana shrugged, "And besides, if I don't get him started on the right books, he'll be hooked on those stupid trash paperbacks that are always on sale for fifty cents. Do you want that to happen? He asked me for something good to read, so I just gave it to him. If he didn't get it, Alex would have asked me for something different."
Or perhaps Arthur had unintentionally raised his son to fear his Aunt Morgana unconditionally. But he kept that bit to himself. "Oh."
That earned him another look, and then Morgana walked over to clasp a kind hand on Alex's shoulder, "Hey, Arthur's here."
Alexander didn't look at his father at all, Arthur thought. The boy was dark-haired where Arthur was blonde, and where Arthur was well-built, Alex was so skinny that Arthur often wondered if he was sick. Where Arthur's demeanor was imposing and demanding, Alex was shy, "...May I take this book with me?"
"Sure, of course you may." Morgana smiled warmly at the boy, "I still expect you to come visit me often, okay? You can bring the book back anytime."
"Okay." Alex nodded solemnly, and at last Arthur saw something of himself in his son. "Thanks."
"Don't mention it."
That was where it got awkward, Alex practically stalked past Arthur without acknowledging him at all. The "how was your day" fatherly greeting that Arthur had carefully prepared faded from his lips altogether. He just followed Alex to the door and watched the boy tug on his shoes. Morgana must have instructed him on how to tie his sneakers properly because it only took Alex a minute.
"Bye, Alex." Morgana smiled at him.
"See you, Aunt Morgana."
Arthur said, "...Thanks, Morgana."
And his sister merely clapped him on the shoulder, "Good luck. I've got to run, I'm really late for my dinner."
--
Outside of the office, Arthur drove an expensive, but still unassuming car. Alex quietly buckled himself in the backseat and kept up a stony face with his arms crossed. It was not until they turned onto a commercial street that Alex ventured, "It's all your fault, Dad. You made Aunt Morgana hate me."
The accusation stung. Probably because it was true. Arthur gripped the wheel. "Morgana doesn't hate you." He said, "She's just busy.'
"No," Alex gave a little huff, "She just hates you."
Arthur liked to think he had thick skin, but nothing could have prepared him for that. "Alexander...please don't be difficult. You know I have to work."
"You know, most CEOs in your position rarely go to the office and still make seven figures." Alex said.
He was really going to have to talk to Morgana about this. Arthur liked his kid so much better when he acted and sounded like a normal five-year-old. "For me it's different, my company is relatively new, and it's good to oversee things myself." Although it was undeniable that Arthur Pendragon had a knack for business; he was just thirty, and even though Camelot Software (CamSoft for short) was only in its third year mostly subsisting on heavily borrowed capital, it held promise. In fact, Arthur's head accountant was so enthusiastic that he predicted that revenues were going to shoot through the roof within the next couple of years.
Arthur would have liked to believe him, but he was born and raised a cynic.
"Who's going to take care of me tomorrow?" Alex wanted to know.
"I don't know. I'll call someone. Pellinor, maybe." But Arthur wondered if calling old frat brothers for caretaker favors was a smart idea; actually, it probably wasn't.
"Pellinor smokes like a chimney." Alex said, "I don't want to stay with him."
Perhaps it was not in Arthur's best interest to let his son know that he himself sometimes smoked like a chimney--except he was smart enough to do it when Alex wasn't around. "Fine, you don't have to stay with Pellinor. I don't know of anyone else that can take you on such short notice." he bit his lip, "...As a last resort, I guess you'll have to come to work with me."
"Da-ad."
"Sorry, okay? I can't help it." Arthur swerved dangerously into the parking lot of a 24-hour convenience store, he usually hated these places, but desperate times called for desperate measures. "I'm assuming you didn't eat with Morgana."
"I didn't. You made her late for dinner. You were supposed to pick me up at six."
"Alexander, stop it. If Morgana taught you to talk like that, stop it." Arthur slammed the car door shut. "I hope you like microwave pizza." If Alex was subtly implying that Arthur loved driving during the rush hour...the kid wasn't as smart as he thought he was.
"I hate it."
So did Arthur. In fact, he reflected somewhat bitterly as he scooped up a still pouting Alex in his arms, he decided that he quite hated his life. When Alex was asleep in bed, Arthur would have to console himself with a nice stiff drink. But until then--
"Dad, I hate microwave pizza."
"I heard you the first time." Arthur felt his forehead prickle. "Pick something else."
"Put me down."
Arthur did, and Alex toddled off to one of the aisles. Arthur took the opportunity to disappear down the liquor aisle himself and grab a bottle of vodka. The week had started out fine, but it had quickly spiraled downwards, everything was behind schedule. And how funny that Morgana took away his final lifeline on a Friday night. She had damn good timing. And he couldn't be that worried about Alex because a.) the convenience store wasn't big, and b.) Alex had proven himself a little too capable. Any potential kidnapper would have his hands full.
He walked to the front of the store, where the one store clerk, a college boy with an open face and ears he had yet to grow into, grinned at him amiably, "Thank goodness it's Friday?"
Arthur found himself shaking his head, "I prefer Mondays." And he did. Because Mondays meant everyone at the office was sleepy (with the exception of Arthur.) Having everyone sleepy meant peace and quiet.
"You're nuts."
"Yeah, I guess I am." Arthur gestured to the vodka, "Ring this up for me?"
The cashier did so, and bagged his purchase without further comment. He slipped a small bottle into the bag along with the vodka.
"What's that?"
"Caffeine pills. On the house, they'll be your best friend."
Arthur decided that the cashier wasn't a bad kid. "Thanks."
"No problem."
Alex materialized from the aisles then, his dinner of choice was a huge bag of pretzels, and a bottle of root beer. Arthur wasn't the best parent in the world, but even he knew better. "Alexander, is that supposed to be your dinner?"
"Yes." Alex jutted his chin out defiantly. Arthur saw a flash of himself as a boy and almost gave in.
"No."
"Da-ad!"
"You know better, Alexander," And of course, his son just had to choose the most horrible timing to revert back to his whiny, five-year-old self. "Put the pretzels back, you can have the soda as a drink. Just go pick out a microwave pizza."
"I hate pizza." Alex glared up at him, "And, you know, pretzels are technically healthier than microwave pizza." Actually, his son wasn't usually like this, Arthur supposed he was still sore about Morgana. But still, he thought it was worthwhile to entertain the possibility of Alex having multiple personalities.
"Alexander--"
"Here, tell you what." The cashier boy came to his rescue--unexpectedly. Leaving his post by the counter, he gave Alex a winning grin, "Let's make a deal, okay? Your dad is probably very tired and doesn't know what he's saying." (Here, he gave Arthur an apologetic look) "You can have your pretzels and your root beer, but you have to have pizza too."
"But I don't like pizza, I want pretzels. Dad never lets me have any."
The cashier boy grinned, "Hey, hey, hear me out first. If you get the pizza as a favor for me, I'll let you play one of those arcade games for free." There were arcade machines lined up along one wall. The guy dug in his pocket for two quarters and dangled them above Alex, "But that's only if you promise to get the pizza."
Alex considered, and then nodded his head solemnly, "Okay." He held out his hand in anticipation of the quarters.
"No, you have to go pick the pizza first."
And Arthur watched, absolutely blown away, as his son came back a minute later, with a flat paper box. The cover said, 'Pepperoni Pizza, Extra Cheese.' The cashier boy took it, and rang it up. As promised, he flicked Alex his two quarters. Alex dropped one and barely managed to catch the other. He ran giddily to one of the machines, the one with plastic guns that you point at the screen.
"...Hey, he's five." Arthur said, as got out his credit card again. "That kind of thing really appropriate?"
"It's not that violent." Said the cashier, "You shoot pink dinosuars that try to destroy your castle, perfectly kid friendly. Don't ask me why the gun is there."
"Ah." Arthur nodded pointlessly. All this, it was beyond him, CamSoft mostly manufactured business financing software. It was a long way away from pink dinosuars and castles. "...How'd you do that?" He changed the subject abruptly.
"Do what?"
"Get him to listen to you." It didn't sit too well with Arthur that his son had completely succombed to a stranger for no good reason.
"I have practice." Arthur recieved a boyish grin for his query, "Plenty of practice, I only have one younger brother, but tons of cousins. And by tons, I do mean tons. Most of them are his age...maybe a little older. Me and my brother are the odd ones out. It's mostly learning from experience, really. I mean, with kids his age, it's a lot of give and take."
For the first time, Arthur realized that the cashier boy had a name: a name that was pinned just above his right shirt pocket. Merlin Emrys.
Merlin saw him looking, "...If you want to laugh, go ahead. Get it out of your system." He said, his voice devoid of any sarcasm, "My mother was never very apt at naming things. She named my brother Mordred. I swear, everyone else in our family has normal names."
"I wasn't going to laugh." Arthur said defensively, and he'd heard of funnier names, courtesy of dealing with cheap Bosnian software companies. "But they're unusual. My name is Arthur." Well, it was only fair, he knew Merlin's name.
Merlin's eyes brightened in recognition, "...Arthur as in...Arthur Pendragon?" He asked carefully.
"Well, yeah." Arthur was surprised, it was a torturously difficult lesson, but he had finally learned the value of keeping a low profile. "You've heard of me?"
"...Well, no." Merlin had the propriety to look somewhat sheepish, "But I do recognize you, from here." After rummaging around his space, Merlin comes up with a wrinkled copy of BusinessWeek. The cover had Arthur on it, in a custom suit and a stack of papers in his hands. The title blared giddily in bold: The Wonders of CamSoft; A Look into the Mind of a Young Entrepreneur.
Arthur remembered the article. Published over a year ago, it had taken the business world by storm. He also remembered that too many people in a conference room made him claustrophobic. "I hated that." He said softly.
"Why?"
"Too many damn cameras. I swear I was blind for the rest of the day."
"Oh." Merlin smiled, "Must have been fun."
"You think?"
By the time Alex finished the entire game (a good forty minutes later, on fifty cents, which was decidedly impressive.) Arthur learned a few things. He learned that Merlin was twenty-three to his thirty (which made him feel very old) and he was still in the final semester of undergrad--because he had to drop a year in order to work.
"You had to drop an entire year?" Arthur voiced his disbelief.
"Is it that surprising?" For the first time, Merlin's voice had an edge to it. "I was behind on my rent, okay?"
"No, no." Arthur quickly made amends, "It's not that...it's just." He spied Alex wandering off to the candy bar aisle, "...It's just, is this the only job you have?"
"I work as a bookstore clerk on Saturdays and Sundays, the pay's not much better, but it suffices." Merlin looked him over carefully, "Why are you asking?"
"Quit both of those jobs and come work for me." The words slipped before Arthur could give them proper consideration.
Merlin looked confused, "...What?"
"Come work for me, you can be Alexander's au pair. I'll give a hundred fifty bucks a day." Even that figure was a small one. Arthur's company might be small, but that didn't stop him from being the richest man in town. "And you can have half of Saturday off, and Sundays, obviously. And you can do your own thing when Alex restarts school after break."
"Arthur." Merlin held up a hand, "Hold on a second." He looked dazed, "Firstly, I can't be Alex's au pair, because au pairs apply only to girls. But that's not the point. The point is that, as far as you know, I'm just a random cashier boy at a convenience store. You've known me for one hour, and trusting me with your kid like that isn't very smart."
"Are you trying to tell me that you're a convicted felon or something?" Arthur raised an eyebrow.
"No." Merlin sighed, "I'm just asking you, if you seriously think it's smart to leave your kid in the hands of a random stranger."
"You're a little bit random, but you're not really a stranger. Alexander likes you already, I can tell." Arthur pursed his lips, "I have a question for you, what's your college major?"
"Psychology and Business, a little more of the former than the latter. What does that have to do with anything?"
"Nothing, but seriously, majoring in Psychology damages your brain." Arthur told him with a straight face, "It's obvious."
"...Thanks." Merlin did not look so amused.
Arthur smiled at him, "You're welcome."
--
Arthur Pendragon owned a nice car that wasn't a limo, Merlin realized. In fact, the car proved to be quite eco-friendly.
And right after he realized that, he realized a couple more things. A majority of which weren't really important, but there were a couple of killers that easily topped the list:
1.) Arthur Pendragon was a horrifyingly pursuasive person--which was to say that Merlin agreed without agreeing to be an au pair for his son. ("There's no male equivalent for au pair, Merlin, don't be an idiot. Unless you want me to call you a nanny." Arthur gave him that piece of informtation sounding quite superior.)
2.) Alex really did like him. And Merlin had no idea why, all he did was bribe the kid--with fifty cents. It was totally not the way to win over a kid, and if anything, Merlin would know. But Alex seemed perfectly happy to babble to Merlin, while pointedly ignoring his father, and seemed perfectly content that Merlin was only offering 'Mmhm's' every other minute without really contributing.
3.) Arthur was FUCKING rich. And Merlin should have listened to the reasonable part of his brain when it wanted to take the bus home instead of bumming a ride in Arthur's car. Because now--
"Is this where you live?" Arthur wrinkled his nose in polite distaste, pulling to a stop at the curb. Sure, the cluster of old apartments weren't the most appealing accomodations in the world, but it had running water, the landlord graciously paid for Internet; and television was for the news, Merlin really didn't need cable for that.
"Yeah." Merlin said testily as he got out of the car, "I live here. With my brother and a couple of other people."
"A couple of other people?" Arthur raised an eyebrow.
"Friends, okay?" Merlin said, feeling more than a little exasperated, just because he sort of was coerced into working for Arthur Pendragon didn't mean his employer had access to his private life now. "Will and Matthew help with the rent." He paused, for the first time uncertain. "...So I'll see Alex tomorrow?"
"Yes." Arthur handed him a card. It had his address on it. "Eight-thirty tomorrow? I should be back around four o' clock."
Tomorrow was Saturday. Which reminded Merlin that he needed to quit his job at the bookstore. But somehow, all of this seemed a little shady, maybe he'd just call in sick. Just in case. "Fine. Eight-thirty. Thanks for the ride, Arthur."
"And the job." Arthur added dryly.
"And the job." Merlin complied, with a roll of his eyes, "See you, Alex."
"Bye, Merlin! I'll see you tomorrow!" Alex called cheerily after him.
--
Merlin lived in a two room apartment that was dilapidated on all counts. Will and Matthew shared one room, Merlin and Mordred the other.
Mordred was seventeen. Having a brother who was seventeen sometimes made Merlin very wary. But at least Mordred was very good about not bringing girls home on weekdays, in fact, he was sensitive enough to Merlin's feelings regarding girls and their current state of poverty to get himself invited over to her place--the house of whatever girl he was seeing, or chasing after. Today was Friday night, and Merlin wholly expected Mordred not to be home, but his brother was; when Merlin walked in, Mordred was settled on the couch eating a bowl of ice cream. He worked part time at an old-fashioned ice cream parlor for two reasons: ice cream, and girls in short skirts.
The two brothers couldn't have been more different.
"...Mordred, why are you home?"
Mordred looked at him somewhat indignantly, "Is it a crime for me to be home on a Friday night? Hello to you too."
Merlin rubbed his temples. "No, it's just...I didn't expect you to be home." He confessed, toeing off his faded sneakers and putting them aside. "Where are Will and Matthew?"
"Will's filling for some guy and Matthew no idea." Mordred licked his spoon. "Jesus, you really do act like everyone's mother."
"Mordred--"
"See? You've got that annoying mother tone down pat." Mordred shook his head. He disappeared into the cramped kitchen next door and returned with a beer. Tossing the can over, he grinned, "Have a drink and loosen up. I'll even accompany you to one of those bars if you want."
There was just something very wrong with your younger brother suggesting to accompany you to a gay bar. There just was. Merlin popped open the can, feeling the icy droplets cling to his fingers, "Mordred, that disturbed me so much I'm just going to pretend that never left your mouth."
"Suit yourself. It's Saturday tomorrow, though."
Merlin never liked beer, but he did appreciate the way the liquor made his head spin. "I have a new job starting tomorrow. If it works out, it pays one fifty a day."
"A dollar fifty?"
"One-hundred-fifty." Merlin clarified. Just saying it made him feel good. He took another swallow of beer.
"And pray tell, what's this miracle job?" Mordred licked his spoon clean. "At the very least, tell me it's legal. You didn't get yourself a gig as a male stripper, did you?"
Merlin took a deep breath and decided wisely, as an older brother should; to ignore most of what was said,"I got a job looking after Alex Pendragon." Of course, Merlin didn't really expect Mordred to know the name, since CamSoft didn't really come out with any gaming software, but Mordred looked at him.
"Pendragon? As in that guy that runs CamSoft Pendragon?"
Oh, well, then Mordred was much more well-read than what Merlin gave him credit for. "How'd you know that?"
"Friend of mine interned there, she said it was absolutely insane. Apparently, Arthur Pendragon's a royal dickwad." Mordred dismissed the question with a wave of his hand. "But that's not important, how the hell did you manage to score a gig like that? Don't tell me Arthur Pendragon just waltzed into 7-11 and offered you the job."
"Actually...yeah, he kind of did, I had to bribe his kid first." Merlin said, "My guess is that he was having a shitty Friday." But really, his mind was still stuck on the fact that Mordred said that Arthur was a dickwad--by hearsay, but still, that didn't sound too promising.
"So tomorrow, he'll probably come to his senses and fire you."
"Thanks Mordred, I appreciate the confidence." Now Merlin was glad that Arthur had bought vodka for his insurance. Perhaps he would be drunk in the morning and forget to fire Merlin.
"No problem. What are little brothers for, anyway?" Mordred grinned at him, "But I'm happy for you." With that, he stood, "Another beer?"
"Hell." Merlin let out a breath, "Why not?"
Mordred went off to the kitchen to grab two, he popped open a can for himself, and held it up, "To your new job, as a nanny."
"Au pair." Merlin found himself correcting. He promptly slapped himself for it.
"A what?"
"...Never mind." Merlin held up his glass, "Cheers." And took a long swallow.
--
"So Merlin's going to look after me tomorrow?" Alex peered up at him.
"That's the plan, yes."
Arthur walked the length of his son's room. It was a ridiculously big room for a five-year-old, but Alex was industrious and made use of most of that space. A bookshelf against one wall, stacked with books that Arthur was of the firm opinion that his son really should not be reading, no matter how precocious everyone made him out to be. But apparently, Morgana's opinion won over his. Alex's bed was in one corner, next to his closet. There was also a pile of half finished airplane models. They were half finished because Arthur would not let Alex work on them without supervision, as the activity did require use of a hot glue gun. He didn't care about how mature people said his son was.
"Dad."
"Hm?"
"I..um." Alex faltered, "Never mind, sorry about today."
"Don't worry about it." Arthur walked quickly to the door, "Good night."
"Night." Alex turned his face to the wall and pulled up his covers.
Arthur leaned against his son's door for a long time afterwards. The house was eerily silent, and he was suddenly struck with the fact that nothing was as it should be. He had his riches, and he had his son. But nothing turned out as it should be. Nothing was right. His son was growing up too fast, his house was too quiet. He thought too much about alcohol and smoke.
Giving in to the thought he had been entertaining all day, Arthur finally went down to the kitchen, poured himself some vodka, and went out to the balcony to smoke a well-deserved cigarette.
Yes, he really, really hated Fridays.