Chapter Text
If you asked Merlin Emrys now if he’d been staring at Arthur Pendragon the day they met, he would flatly deny it. The truth according to Gwaine, however, was that in the hour before they first spoke to each other, Merlin did little else.
The restaurant, a veritable palace of black steel and exposed brick in a part of town Merlin and Gwaine would normally have no business visiting, was not their usual haunt, but Gwaine was drunk off of the success of his first week of performances as a professional actor and insisted on treating Merlin to a “proper feast” to thank him for putting up with his “unemployed arse” for so long. Merlin didn’t have the heart to tell him that as a full-time musician (albeit one with a decent following and a steady stream of gigs thanks to their flatmate, Gwen, who took the job of manager deathly seriously) he was also technically unemployed and that judging by the number of French words on the menus in front of them, the portions weren’t likely to amount to a “feast”.
Considering that neither of them could usually afford as much as a coffee here (and indeed probably wouldn’t be able to afford coffee anywhere else for a long while afterwards), the two of them silently agreed to make the most of the experience. It wasn’t likely to happen again in a hurry. However, in-between Gwaine’s hilarious backstage horror stories and gossip about the cast, they took a moment to entertain the idea that they might have made a mistake in their choice of restaurant.
The trouble with French restaurants was that the menus were predominantly in French. And neither of them spoke French, as their unfortunate waiter, Gilli, soon learned.
“I'll have the, er, ‘giggot dagnew plewreer’, Gwaine said, his Irish accent making deciphering whatever French he was attempting to say even more impossible.
“The… Gigot D’Agneau Pleureur? ” Gilli asked nervously.
“If that means meat and potatoes, then that's the one,” Gwaine said with a wink. The waiter scribbled it down and turned to Merlin.
“I’ll have the ‘boof borgi… borgwigen…’”
Merlin looked to Gwaine for help, but he was too busy sniggering behind his menu.
“W-why don't you just... point to the meal you want?” Gilli suggested and Merlin was only too happy to oblige. Gilli wrote it down with a smile and looked back up at them. “For future reference it's Boeuf Bourguignon.”
“Isn't it tough working here?” asked Gwaine. “Getting your head around all these foreign words?”
“Well my dad is French, so the language isn't a problem,” said Gilli, colour filling his cheeks, “but it's only my second day working here so there's all that pressure. This is a really good restaurant and I'm hoping to get a bit of experience before I go off to study to be a chef.”
“Brilliant, mate,” Merlin grinned. “We promise not to be difficult customers. Well I do, I can't make any guarantees about Gwaine here.”
“I'll behave,” Gwaine said, with a flirtatious smirk, and Gilli blushed a deeper red. Merlin kicked Gwaine under the table and made a mental note to tell him to tip Gilli well.
Despite (or perhaps because of) their atrocious French and inexperienced waiter, their misgivings about the restaurant had evaporated. It was ridiculous and mental and exactly the kind of thing that the two of them would get up to. Merlin was having the time of his life.
And then the blond prat waltzed in.
Gwaine was in the middle of a hilarious story about how one of the actors had glued the female lead’s’ lipstick to the dressing table as payback for her insufferable diva attitude, when Merlin spotted him. He was sure he stopped breathing for a moment.
He looked like a marble statue come to life. His features were strong and accentuated by the seriousness with which he carried himself. Although he was dressed like the preppiest catalogue model ever (a relatively tight-fitting black polo shirt underneath a grey cardigan and dark blue jeans that hugged his body perfectly ), the combination of his tousled hair and, quite frankly, arse of a god, had Merlin going from thinking about dressing room shenanigans to shenanigans involving un dressing in his room.
Just when his thoughts were about to head down the point of no return, he noticed that he was with a woman. A really pretty woman with dark hair and and looks to rival his.
So straight then. Bloody perfect.
Still, as the couple settled down at a table just a few from Merlin and Gwaine’s, Merlin found he couldn't stop sneaking glances at The Adonis (as he had now privately dubbed him). Gwaine, who was becoming increasingly frustrated at the fact that Merlin wasn’t listening, turned to see what he kept looking at and when he turned back around he was smirking.
“Aye, Merlin, he’s very pretty,” he chuckled, “but he does look a bit of a princess.”
“In what way does he look a ‘princess’?” Merlin asked, glancing briefly at the man again to be sure he had enough context. “A prince, I’ll give you, but definitely not a princess.”
A Disney prince with perfect hair and eyes like an ocean.
“I'm just saying gorgeous as he is, he looks… pampered,” Gwaine said softly, his eyes crinkling at the corners at Merlin’s defensiveness. “You know, the kind of man who gets manicures and the like.”
“Says the man with an entire men's skin-care range in the bathroom cabinet,” Merlin said, quirking an eyebrow in amusement.
“Ah, but that's different,” Gwaine rebutted. “As an actor, my face is my instrument and I have to keep it well-tuned. Princess Perky over there has no such excuse.”
“I wouldn't be too sure about that, Tuna Face. He does look vaguely familiar.”
And it was true; the more Merlin looked at him, the more he got the feeling he'd seen him somewhere before. He began sifting through various actors, musicians and TV personalities, trying to pin his face to something he knew.
He was so lost in this process that it took him a moment or two to realise that the man was now staring back at him, wearing a sour expression. Merlin looked away hastily, his cheeks filling with colour, feeling a complete idiot. When he chanced another glance, he was pleased to see a pink tinge to the other man’s face too. The resulting effect made him look more human, more approachable.
And even more bloody attractive.
“Oi, Earth to Merlin!” Gwaine said indignantly, snapping his fingers right in front of Merlin’s eyes and startling him out of his daydreams. Merlin looked back at Gwaine sheepishly. “Look, we didn't come here on the pull – although if we did I'd be all for that.” He motioned behind him to where The Adonis was drinking some kind of fruit juice. “No, we came here to celebrate the fact that my show didn't flop after one night, that I got decent reviews and so that I could pay you back for that time you paid for us both at Mogue the night Ellie Godwyn was playing and I got to chat her up for a full five minutes.”
He remembered the night well. Merlin, being slightly obsessed with Ellie Godwyn’s music and knowing Gwaine's immense crush on her, upon hearing that she was going to be on Saturday Night Unplugged (the televised live show that the coffee shop, Mogue, had became famous for) had used the money from a really decent gig he had just done and immediately booked a table as close to the stage as possible. During her performance, she had glanced at Gwaine more than a few times and Gwaine, of course, took this as some kind of sign that he was in with a chance, despite Merlin’s assurances that it was a beyond horrible idea. (“Oh my God, Gwaine, please don't try to hit on her. You're just a really good-looking bloke. I would also look at you the more than the other people. I'm pretty sure she has a boyfriend.”)
The funny thing was that even when he had cornered her, chatted her up (as he had determined he was going to) and she had politely turned him down because she was in a relationship, Merlin could tell that she was actually disappointed that she had had to say no. He, of course, hadn't told Gwaine this. The mere thought of Gwaine’s smug grin and the never ending stream of chatter that was likely to follow, was more than enough for Merlin to keep mum on the subject.
“You're right,” Merlin said eventually, shaking his head a little and giving Gwaine a small grin. “Sorry about that. Back to pretending to be fancy.” He picked up his glass of water, pinky-out, and continued in his best affectation of a posh accent. “Do please continue with more of your delightful backstage anecdotes or describe in detail the exact shade of magenta you say Vivian Olafsson turned.”
If he glanced at The Adonis after that, he made sure it was when Gwaine wasn't looking and then only for the briefest of brief moments.
About halfway through a dessert that Merlin was sure had been handcrafted by magical baking woodland fairies, he realised that there were raised voices coming from The Adonis’ table.
Well, one raised voice. The Adonis was on his feet and shouting at Gilli. The poor waiter, who was at least a head shorter than him, looked like he would love nothing more than to dissolve into the laminated wood flooring and never return and Merlin didn't think that was fair. It was only his second day.
“Hold that thought a moment, Gwaine, I want to see what's going on over there,” Merlin said, frowning, eyes fixed on the scene as he stood up and made his way over to The Adonis’ table. He vaguely heard Gwaine telling him to leave it alone, but he ignored it. Someone had to bring it to the man’s attention that Gilli was new and mistakes were to be expected.
“... I have been coming to this restaurant for years now and never, not once, have I received service like this! Do you realise that someone with allergies could die if you brought them the wrong meal? That's not just incompetence – that's reckless negli—”
“Alright, mate, you've had your little shouting match – fun’s over,” Merlin interrupted. The Adonis turned to look at him, face contorted with disgust.
“And who are you? ” He asked, the last word dripping with disdain. So much so that Merlin was temporarily disarmed.
“I'm… well, I'm Merl… nobody. I'm no one.”
The Adonis’ lip curled into a humourless smirk. “Precisely, so stay out of it.”
The Adonis turned again to shout at Gilli, who at this point looked ready to bolt for the door, but Merlin caught his arm, pure anger raging through him now.
“It's only his second day, you complete and utter twozzle! He's still learning! Would it hurt your delicate sensibilities to give him a fucking break?”
“What did you say to me?” The Adonis said, now rounding on Merlin instead.
“Exactly what you heard me say,” Merlin said, all nerves gone, a note of danger to his voice now.
“Do you have any idea who I am?” The Adonis said, voice dangerously calm.
“Oh come now, Arthur, stop being such an arse,” said the girl with the dark hair. Now that Merlin was looking at her properly, he recognised her as Morgana Pendragon, celebrity, heiress and businesswoman. Which meant that The Adonis was…
“Arthur Pendragon,” said Gwaine, sidling up next to Merlin. Arthur glared daggers at him. “Morgana Pendragon too. What a delightful surprise. I’ll just collect my Merlin and leave you two to enjoy the rest of your meal then shall I?” He took Merlin’s arm and began steering them back to their table, but Merlin shrugged out of his grasp and turned back to the Pendragons and Gilli who now looked a second away from passing out completely.
“Pendragon, huh?” Merlin said, furiously. “So that’s it? You think just because you’re some big businessman-celebrity you think you can take it out on people who earn significantly less than you? Just because they aren’t making your life comfortable enough? What kind of entitled prick do you have to be to yell at a man on his second day for an honest mistake? Your name, famous as it is, does not entitle you to whatever the fuck you want. Contrary to popular belief, the sun does not shine out of your every orifice, no matter who your father was.”
Merlin managed to duck the punch that was aimed his way and Gwaine valiantly caught it inches from his face.
“Now, Princess, that nose is my career,” he said with a smirk. “You don’t want to be messing that up. I’m not above litigation.”
Merlin thought Arthur looked like he would love nothing more than to be messing up Gwaine's face, but he was saved from seeing it happen by a voice somewhere behind them.
“Excuse me gentlemen, but I must insist that you all leave this restaurant immediately,” said the dangerous voice. Merlin turned around to see who it belonged to. The manager, a frail-looking old man with wispy white hair and icy blue eyes that blazed with fury, strode towards them and Merlin instinctively knew that there would be no point in arguing his case. Without another word, he marched over to his table, grabbed his bag and strode out of the door, purposefully knocking Arthur's shoulder on the way out.
He leaned against the wall outside, waiting for Gwaine while he paid. Arthur and Morgana were out the door a minute later and just before they strode off back to their Lamborghinis, or limousines or whatever amazing and stupidly expensive cars they probably drove, Arthur gave him one last glare, while Morgana mouthed what Merlin interpreted as “I’m sorry my brother is such a prick”.
“Cheer up, mate” said Gwaine, clapping a hand to Merlin’s shoulder, startling him. “That was a good thing you did. And at least we had fun before Princess Prat fecked everything up, eh? In any case, you’ve got McGillin's to look forward to later.”
Yeah, he did. If he didn’t snap all of the strings on his guitar angry-rehearsing before then.
McGillin's was a relatively new pub that had opened up in the nicer part of the city and it had the unique distinction of being the only typical British pub in Britain that didn’t feel like a typical British pub.
Merlin instantly disliked it.
Through the tireless managerial efforts of his best friend, Gwen, Merlin had performed at close to a hundred different pubs, and they were all more or less of the same mold – a room full of decent food and good people that felt like a second home.
McGillin’s was completely different. There was the decent food, granted, and the drinks were surprisingly well-priced for where they were in town, but the place was full of slightly intimidating people who looked like they earned the pub’s monthly takings in a day and it felt the furthest thing from a second home Merlin could imagine.
“Are you sure this is a good idea?” Merlin muttered to Gwen as he followed her through the door, guitar case in hand. “These people look like they're used to people far bet—”
“Merlin, I swear to God if you say better, I'll scream. I swear I will.”
They crossed over to the bar where she turned to glare at him.
“This is one of the best pub gigs in the country at the moment and I don't want to tell you how many people I had to yell at to get it for you. Do you think I would have done that if you weren't as good, if not better than any other act that has performed here? Do I look like someone who shouts at people for mediocre?”
“No, but…”
“But nothing, Merlin,” she said, taking his hand. “I wouldn't have told you to quit your job and volunteered to be your manager if I didn't think this was what you were born to do. You're amazing, okay? And I know that you know that, so stop being so scared.” Merlin offered her a small grateful smile. Gwen pointed at the stage, a small raised platform at the other end of the room. “Look, you are going to go up there, you are going to open that big, fat mouth of yours and you are going to make them listen, just like you always do. This gig has the potential to change your life so stop second-guessing it, alright?”
“I love you to bits, you know that?” Merlin said with a grin, pulling Gwen into a tight hug. “I’m sorry if I sounded ungrateful. You’re an amazing manager and an even more amazing friend. I’m just daft.”
“You are,” she agreed, kissing him on the cheek. “But that’s why I love you. Now, go break some hearts.” She pushed him towards the stage.
The sound check took a few more minutes, but before long, he was standing in front of a live microphone, heart racing, with his guitar slung around his shoulders, staring out into a room full of people who were about to hear his music for the first time.
And as he took a deep breath to calm himself, he realised that there was no better feeling.
“You see? What did I tell you? You were flawless up there!” said Gwen the minute she caught sight of Merlin. Leaving the stage had proved difficult as over the course of the performance Merlin had gained a new group of fans who were quite eager to chat to him afterwards. He spent almost fifteen minutes meeting people and trying to disentangle himself from all of the women (and men) wanting to buy him drinks, until finally a path back to Gwen had cleared and Merlin ran for it.
“That was actually a good one,” Merlin grinned. It really had been amazing. The audience had been a bit cold towards the start, which wasn't unusual for a venue he hadn't played before, but by the end he had gained the attention of almost everyone in the room. They laughed at his banter and jokes and by the end, most eyes were trained on him. All in all, it was what Merlin would describe as the perfect gig. He pulled Gwen into a hug. “I was wrong, you were right and I will never doubt you again.”
“Any chance I can get that in writing?” Gwen laughed and just as Merlin was about to reply, she was dragging him towards a table at the back of the pub.
“Um, Gwen, I know I literally just promised to never doubt you, but what the fuck?”
“There's someone I want you to meet before we go,” she said, stopping suddenly to look Merlin in the eye. “She's an old friend of mine but also potentially a really important contact so, you know, just be yourself.”
She turned back towards the table before whipping around a second later.
“But, I mean, don't be too much like yourself,” she added seriously. “Maybe just Merlin-lite, okay?”
Merlin was about to retort in indignation when one of the people from the table got up and began making their way towards them. When he saw who it was, he felt his stomach sink.
Seven billion people in this world and it had to be her.
“Morgana, this is Merlin Emrys; Merlin, Morgana Pendragon,” Gwen said, gesturing between the two of them.
Morgana was smirking like it was Christmas and she had been given the biggest present under the tree.
“ Merlin, ” she said, eyes glittering with barely-contained humour. “I didn't think we would be meeting again so soon.”
“You’ve met?” Gwen asked, her eyebrows flying up into her hairline.
“You know Morgana Pendragon?” Merlin countered, just as confused.
“Gwen and I were roommates at boarding school,” Morgana explained to Merlin before turning to Gwen, “and Merlin and I met earlier today when he valiantly yelled at my brother for being a dick to our waiter.”
A beat of silence followed this statement as Gwen processed exactly what Morgana was saying, and a second later, she gave a horrified gasp and buried her face in her hands.
“No, oh my god, Merlin. Please tell me you didn't shout at the CEO of Excalibur Records?” Gwen said, voice muffled. “It sounds like exactly something you would do, but please tell me I’m wrong this time?”
“Uh…” said Merlin, not sure how to explain that that was exactly what he had done. Gwen made another horrified noise and pulled her hands away from her face.
“I think it was commendable,” Morgana laughed. “I mean, it was unfortunate because you caught my brother on the worst possible day, but he really was being an A-grade arsehole and your interference was warranted.”
“I didn't mean to fuck up his day or anything. I just don't like seeing people treating other people badly just because they can,” Merlin said, mostly to Gwen, who was now looking at him like he had just binned a million quid.
Which, in a way, he supposed he had.
“Oh, he’ll be fine,” Morgana said, waving her hand dismissively. “What I really want to talk about is your music.”
“Oh?” Merlin asked, not knowing what else to say. He had no idea where this conversation was going. He looked at Gwen for a clue but she seemed just as perplexed as him.
“It's really good,” said Morgana with a warmer smile. “Incredible, in fact.”
“Oh, uh, thank you,” he said, feeling his cheeks fill with colour.
“I’m a co-owner of the coffee shop Mogue, ever been there?” Morgana asked.
“Yeah, quite a few times,” said Merlin, his heart speeding up a little. “To be honest, I’d live there if I could.”
Morgana laughed delightedly.
“Well, we're still looking for a warm-up act before the Saturday Night Unplugged performance this week, because the artist we had booked dropped us yesterday. Do you think you can fill in on such short notice?”
It took Merlin a second to hear what Morgana was asking him. He was sure that he had misunderstood her, but he didn’t know how else to interpret the words she had just said. He also knew he should give her an answer, but his mind was all over the place now and the power of speech suddenly seemed beyond his capabilities..
“He’d love to,” Gwen said, jumping in. “Sorry, he’s just a bit overwhelmed. Mogue is probably his favourite place on earth. He’s not joking when he says he’d live there given half the chance. This means so much, Morgana. Thank you.”
“Y-yeah,” Merlin agreed. “Thanks so much. This is just.. Wow .”
“You’re welcome,” Morgana smiled. “We do a rehearsal early Saturday morning with the warm-up act and the headliner so that everyone’s comfortable come the evening. I’ll email you and Gwen with those details tomorrow. Oh and it’s Ellie Godwyn this weekend! She’s going to adore you!”
Merlin was about to pass out.
“Are you sure you don't want to have another drink with us, Gwen?” Morgana asked, gesturing to the table behind her. Merlin glanced over and several of the women there waved at him. He waved back, with an awkward smile.
“I would love to, but I have to get a report on my boss’ desk by eight tomorrow morning or it's my job,” said Gwen. “Thanks so much for inviting me to sit with you, though. I had a lovely time.”
“It was really good to see you again, Gwen,” Morgana said, pulling her into a hug. “I really have missed you all these years.”
“Me too,” smiled Gwen.
“Well, you'd better go finish your report,” Morgana said. “I'll be in contact, and if I'm not, you have my number. Feel free to pester me. It was lovely meeting you, Merlin.”
“You too,” he replied.
And as he turned to leave with Gwen, he wondered how many other impossible things would happen before the day ended.
“You really yelled at Arthur Pendragon though?” Gwen asked as they took a bus back to their small apartment. She was frowning at Merlin who smiled back at her, too elated to be terrified of her anger.
“I only yelled because he was being an arse,” Merlin explained. “It was the poor bloke’s second day and he was nervous enough dealing with just Gwaine and me. Arthur and Morgana are whole new levels of intimidating. So yeah, I put the prat in his place. He took a swing at me, I ducked, Gwaine caught his fist and we got chucked out. And I'd do it again if I saw him…”
Merlin's voice trailed off as a whole new thought occurred to him: what if he ended up seeing Arthur again? He was bound to if Gwen and Morgana had reconnected. Would he be just as big of a prat the next time? Morgana had said that Merlin had just caught him on a bad day, but he was having a hard time imagining him as anything other than a proper tool.
Merlin was brought out of his thoughts by the sound of chuckling next to him.
“Excuse me, but are you laughing? ” he asked, looking round at her.
“I am,” she said, “but only because you're just always so… you. I don't know many people who would have the nerve to shout at a celebrity for being rude to a waiter, but I guess I should have known you'd be one of them.”
“I wasn't trying to prove anything,” said Merlin, heat creeping up his neck. “I just wanted to make sure that he knew why the waiter might be fucking up and then he turned it into this huge fucking argument. He's a proper wanker, Gwen.”
“Well, I only spent time with him a few times when I was a teenager,” said Gwen, “but he seemed like a butt back then so I suppose not much has changed.”
“Yeah, now that we're on the subject,” said Merlin, nudging Gwen’s shoulder. “How is it that we've been friends since pretty much the first day of uni and not once in all that time did you mention that you were friends and roomies with Morgana Fucking Pendragon ?”
“I don't know,” said Gwen, playing with the strap of her bag. “It didn't really ever pop up in conversation in the beginning and then when she got really famous with that TV show I didn't want to be that loser who drops names to look cool. We were friends but we lost contact and I figured that was it, you know. Sometimes you don't get to keep your friends from high school.”
Merlin’s heart gave a pang at this, his mind filling with thoughts of his only friend from high school, Will. He didn’t get to keep him.
“Oh no, Merlin!” said Gwen, suddenly, slipping her hand into Merlin’s and giving it a squeeze. “That was really insensitive of me, I'm so sorry.”
“It's alright, you didn't mean anything by it,” Merlin replied, giving her hand a squeeze in return. Guilt at his reaction to Gwen's harmless words mingled with sadness, and he looked out the window in case he did actually start crying or something.
They both went quiet and Merlin tried desperately to think about Mogue or McGillin’s or Ellie Godwyn’s new album – absolutely anything other than Will. Then Gwen broke the awkward silence.
“Arthur though,” she said carefully, “he isn't half gorgeous, is he?”
Merlin genuinely laughed at that.
“He looks like he was crafted by angels that specialise in the wank fantasies of scrawny struggling musicians.”
“I don't know, he looks more like some kind of escaped genetic experiment by a group of scientists trying to create the perfect man. He was a prototype. They couldn’t quite hack the personality.”
They spent the rest of the journey home trying to one-up each other in their descriptions and ended up tumbling through the door in fits of laughter over Merlin’s last one (“He’s like a box Smarties. Not looks-wise, mind, but if I had to choose something to nibble…”) and were still chortling to themselves as Gwen powered up her laptop and Merlin went to the kitchen to make tea for them. He prepared an extra mug when he heard Gwaine arriving back from the theatre.
“Merlin, if I were not convinced that you would kill me within a month of our relationship, I would marry you, I swear it,” Gwaine said when he brought him and Gwen their tea.
“Thanks, love,” Gwen said, not looking up from her typing.
“You're welcome, Gwen. See, Gwaine? Normal people just say ‘thank you’,” said Merlin in amusement. Gwaine pulled a face at that.
“Who the feck wants to be normal?”
Merlin shrugged. “Fair point.”
“Oh, by the way, I know why our Princess was in such a foul mood at the restaurant earlier,” Gwaine said, taking a sip of his tea. Merlin, who was turning back to the kitchen to fetch his own tea, stopped mid-action and Gwen paused her typing to hear what Gwaine had to say. “Apparently it's been two years today since Uther Pendragon died. So it wasn't entirely the bad service he was upset about. It was actually his da. I feel kind of shite about it now. As awful as he was to that waiter, that is a tough day to have to live through.”
“Oh my god, you're right,” said Gwen, picking up her tea. “I still remember watching the news report while I was meant to be studying for finals.”
Merlin felt like the worst person on earth. While nothing excused Arthur's behaviour, in this new light, Merlin's actions were also pretty goddamn awful. As Gwen and Gwaine started discussing it further, Merlin made his way back into the kitchen.
He knew how it felt to dread that one day of the year because all the grief that you'd tried to keep at bay for the rest of the time was so close to the surface that anything could trigger it. Every year the anniversary of Will’s accident loomed in front of him like a dark cloud, reminding him that it had been years since he had last shared a joke with him or heard him laugh or got into one of their ridiculous arguments about nothing important.
How much worse must it feel if that person was a parent?
Grabbing his mug from the counter, he poured the contents down the sink and made his way to bed.
Any love he had for tea or this day was gone.