Missed Connections: Part Two

[tourdefierce]

<3<3<3

When Merlin finally had enough to drink to go into the loo, he couldn't help but be nervous. Beyond the fact that Will might be right and his writing career was hanging on being blown by a specific person that Merlin had never formally met--beyond all of that, going into the bathroom with the knowledge that you were anticipating a glory hole blow job was extremely awkward, if not a bit tense. Immediately, Merlin felt as if the other gentleman in the loo were watching him. Objectively, he knew that wasn't the case. Well, not in the-I-know-you're-going-to-the-glory-hole-stall sort of way, anyway. The bloke at the corner standing by the urinal and jacking off was certainly looking at Merlin. But everyone else was just doing their business. In fact, one couple seemed to be having sex in the first stall.

Surprisingly, this made Merlin feel loads better (because at least other people were doing scandalous things). None of them were probably as pathetic as he was, except for the guy wanking to blokes pissing, but Merlin was okay with that. He was used to being pathetic. He was a writer, and being pathetic was basically a skill to put on his CV.

Merlin went straight to the stall, practically running, he was sure, and locked it behind him. He made a quick check to see if anyone was occupying the stall next door before he sat down on the lid of the seat. He was startlingly aware of how loud the couple was on the other end of the bathroom and how loud he must have been when the stranger had taken him inside his mouth for, arguably, the best blow job of his life. It was awe-inspiring, that was for sure. But Merlin still wasn't convinced it just wasn't the drugs.

Besides, taking drugs and sleeping with people was an easy cure for writer's block. Finding the anonymous bloke who sucked you off in a bathroom and who carried around custom embroidered handkerchiefs was not as easy.

It would totally make sense though, because nothing, absolutely nothing Merlin did was easy. It was as if he strategically conspiring against himself. Although, it wouldn't surprise him if his magic was somehow trying to ruin his life. That was just how much luck he tended to have.

Time passed slowly in Camelot's loo. Merlin spent most of his time drawing on the walls with magic ink, letting his magic ebb and flow to make beautiful patterns on the walls for the sake of his sanity. It was more than mildly amusing and arousing to listen to the multitude of people stumbling in and out of the club. There were definitely more people using the loo as it was intended; however, Merlin was increasingly surprised at the sheer number of people who hooked up in the bathroom.

Camelot was like most gay clubs, and had a backroom specifically reserved for sexual acts and a condom stand the size of a small corner shop to the left of the bar. People didn't really need to hook up in the bathroom. There were other places. It was just amazing how many couples chose the loo instead of the backroom. Maybe it was the lighting? Merlin had no idea.

He was incredibly embarrassed at the amount of time he spent there, idly drawing on the stalls and closing his eyes, letting his magic pool around him and search. It was something he often did when he was bored and alone, let his magic roam free. It was rare that anything significantly awesome happened. Once, he accidentally traveled through time. Time travel, in and of itself, was amazing. But the resulting panic about how he was going to get back was enough for Merlin to swear off deliberately trying to time travel.

Today, his magic seemed to feel more comfortable feeling out people and searching for connections. Merlin thought that maybe this was his magic looking for another person with the same talents, like a magical signature. But so far, the only thing significant he had found was that an old lady on Baker's Street had a haunted oven that enjoyed spiking all her baked goods with marijuana, for the simple pleasure of hearing the old lady's knitting group get supremely high.

Part of Merlin wanted to meet someone like him, whom he could talk to about the feeling of magic coursing through one's veins. The other part of him wondered if there was any use getting his hopes up when it was doubtful that he was going to be anything but alone for the rest of his life. Well, he'd have Will, and Merlin wasn't trying to say that Will was incompatible, but he certainly wasn't life partner material. Plus, Merlin wanted to get laid every once and a while, maybe even fall into a routine with someone. It all seemed like a lost cause, because at the end of the day, he was still a penniless, gay writer with chronic writer's block, who may or may not be able to move objects with his mind. He wasn't that special. Not in any of the ways that counted. He wasn't smart like Will or charming like Gwen. He didn't possess any startling beauty like Lance, nor was he successful like Morgana, although Gwen had hinted once at Morgana's connections with the Royal Family and how that was how she got started with her own company.

Either way, at the end of the day he was just Merlin. And the end of the day put him in a seedy bathroom of a gay club, waiting for the love of his glory hole life. It was unreal and pitiful.

Merlin looked at his watch. The 3:30 a.m. blinked at him hazily, and Merlin rubbed his face. It was obvious that whomever he had met in the days previous wasn't coming anytime soon. Merlin was on his feet when he remembered the handkerchief in his trouser pocket. He pulled it out, examining the soft cotton of the blue fabric and running his fingertips over the red embroidered dragon in the corner. It was a rather beautiful handkerchief, and Merlin was sad to see it go. He had enjoyed the soft way it felt splaying across his cheek while he was writing, idly playing with it, and more than once he had jerked off to it caressing the sides of his dick, as if it were channeling its owner's mouth. It was silly to keep it now. It would only remind Merlin of those fleeting days of writing and the most amazingly intimate blow job of his entire life.

He laughed at himself before stuffing the cloth into the glory hole. Maybe if the man ever came back, he'd get his handkerchief back. It was rather nice, after all.

Merlin turned to go, then realized that he might as well piss while he was there to avoid an uncomfortable tube ride back. It was early in the morning and his buzz had all but disappeared, the alcohol running its course through his system. He was just zipping up his trousers when the handkerchief disappeared from its place in the stall's hole.

Merlin stared at the hole, suddenly feeling the urge to get the piece of cloth back. Whoever had taken it was obviously thinking something else, like someone had left it or Merlin left it as a sign that he was there, waiting to get a blow job from just anyone.

"Oh no, um," Merlin bumbled. "I'm actually going to want that back, see, I was waiting for someone in specific, and it doesn't seem like they're going to make it. So if you could just, you know, pass it back, that would be..."

Merlin trailed off, a blush working its way up his neck and coloring his face. God, this was the most embarrassing situation of his life. Nobody couldn't make this shit up but it was happening to Merlin. It was his life.

"Sir? Sorry, but I really do need that back," Merlin started again, waiting to hear some sort of acknowledgment from the other party, but none came. "I mean, sorry. This might seem rather weird, but I was leaving it for him and if he's not going to come, I would rather you not nick it while I'm here. At least give me the pretense of thinking it might have got back to him."

Merlin cringed at the way his voiced sounded, uncertain and whiney. He waited, thinking about just magicking the damn thing back when the person on the opposite side of the stall laid out the handkerchief and knelt. Merlin blushed even harder.

"Oh no, no. I'm not really into it, it was just the one time," Merlin said as his voice squeaked. "I'm not, I'm not really interested in it from anyone else."

There was a rough chuckle and Merlin blushed even harder, barely resisting the urge to bang his forehead against the wall, when a second handkerchief was passed through the hole. The fabric was the same soft cotton except it was red. Merlin turned it over in his hands, gasping as his fingertips ran over the dark blue embroidered dragon.

"It's you," Merlin whispered in awe. "I can't fucking believe it."

Merlin stared at the hole in shock. Had his luck finally changed? Had the universe decided to take pity on him? Had his magic finally saved him from his own misery? Merlin didn't care at that moment why or how this had come to happen, just that it was happening--that this was real. His fingers gravitated to the hole as his other hand clutched desperately to the new handkerchief that smelled of subtle but spicy cologne and a unique male smell that Merlin imagined came from being stuffed inside the pocket of the man on the other side of the stall. Merlin wondered if the only colors he had were red and blue. He thought about the soft linen being pressed and folded neatly in the man's closet. The domestic scene of the man's routine, always folding the handkerchief and putting into the same pocket was all fiction in his mind but it burned something warm in his chest when he imagined it. He fancied the red coloring too, almost as much as that first blue one.

His fingers traced the outside of the carefully carved hole before dipping in tentatively. Immediately, the mouth on the other side pressed a tiny, chaste kiss to his fingertips. Merlin felt himself sigh, sagging against the stall as the mouth kissed up and down his fingers before suckling at the tip.

Merlin felt his magic surge at the contact of the man's open mouth. He gasped aloud and pressed himself up against the stall divider, desperate to be closer to whoever was invoking such a strong reaction inside of him.

"I'm so glad you're here," Merlin whispered, as the mouth worked its way down the pads of his index and middle fingers. "I waited for a while but there was no hope that you'd be there. That you felt this."

His magic surged again and Merlin didn't have the energy or the heart to cage it, not when it was so freely jumping at the sensations of the other man, just like it had earlier when he was letting it roam free. The idea that his magic had brought the man here, had lured him there, was even more arousing, and Merlin moaned against the stall.

"You have no idea what you do to me," Merlin said, working his trousers open. The mouth around his fingers groaned and Merlin quickly took it as permission, getting the condom out of his back pocket and ripping it out one-handed. He didn't have the strength to pull his hand away.

"God, I could come just like this, with just my fingers in your mouth," Merlin murmured as the mouth worked up and down his fingers, sucking at the tips and swirling his tongue desperately along the pads of Merlin's fingers. It felt incredible, and Merlin began to think that maybe he'd given the drugs a little too much credit in the previous exchange.

"Can I... Can we?" Merlin stumbled over his questions, need filling him as he stroked his cock lightly. The mouth around his fingers moaned and then nodded, tongue flicking at the tips of his fingers in what felt like encouragement.

Merlin could barely get his cock through the hole fast enough, letting that warm, wet, and increasingly intimate heat surround him in pleasure. He let his magic go, riding the fast and deep pleasure of the man's mouth while Merlin clutched the new embroidered cloth in his hand.

<3<3<3

Merlin was in a daze all the way back to his flat.

He sat on the tube, gently turning the red handkerchief over and over in his hands. His fingernails dragged over the careful embroidery, and he barely resisted the urge to press the cloth against his face. The blow job had been even more incredible sober, which Merlin was having a terrible time wrapping his head around. He could still feel the phantom heat of the man's mouth and the open-mouthed kisses he placed up and down the shaft. The mere thought made his magic tingle.

Merlin averted his eyes and sunk more into himself.

It had been amazing, and afterwards he couldn't help but sink down to his own knees and whisper filthy phrases through the wall until the man came. They had stayed like that, kneeling on opposite ends of the stall, until Merlin stuck his fingers back through the hole, just to feel the way the mouth kissed, so open and raw and vulnerable.

God, and then Merlin had started talking, babbling really, about how much the man's mouth had inspired him, how this simple act of anonymous release had inspired two days of writing and that no one had ever done that before.

The man, gloriously wonderful thing that he was, just kept kissing Merlin's fingers. It was lovely. And in the end, Merlin had resorted to begging to see him again, just like this. The only way the man communicated was with moans and nods of his head. But Merlin had worked out that they could do this again in three days time.

Three days seemed endless, but Merlin's magic throbbed pleasantly. It felt satisfied in a way that Merlin had never felt before. He was slowly understanding how devoid it had felt earlier, how something was missing. It was a staggering thought that led in too many directions. At the moment, he just needed to get home and write, write until it left him again.

Then, then he could meditate more and figure out exactly what his magic was trying to tell him, what his magic was imploring him to explore.

<3<3<3

"I can't talk now."

Merlin blinked. "Gwen, you phoned me."

"I realize that. It was only to let you know that I'll be picking you up at 8 tonight. Wait outside."

Merlin stared at his blinking cursor. The flow of writing had left off sometime this morning, and he wasn't supposed to see the man from the loo (he really needed a better name than that for him) until tomorrow night. But there was really nothing to be done.

"...just wear Will's tux, it should be fine."

Merlin realized that Gwen had been talking. "What? Why?"

Gwen sighed. "Merlin, weren't you listening?"

"No. Not at all. Come again?"

"Morgana is going to be gone a few more days because she's decided to buy a tiger," Gwen said in a tone that implied that she wished she was joking.

"A tiger?"

"Yes, named Mordred apparently. Anyway, she's stuck trying to wrestle it through Germany's customs unit. You'd be amazed at how offended they are that she's trying to take a tiger back to England. Anyway, I'm supposed to go to this dinner in her place and I've got instructions to take you."

"Me? No, Gwen, I'm not going to one of Morgana's functions. Last time, she had me go to some sort of cancer benefit for gay men!" Merlin screeched. His face was flushed just remembering the evening.

"What was wrong with that?"

"Gwen, I spent the whole night getting hit on by men who made jokes about having one ball. Jokes, Gwen! About genitalia! In public!."

Merlin let the silence convey his complete and total embarrassment. Gwen stifled laughter across the line, the cow.

"All right, that's a fair point. But this isn't anything like that, it's a personal dinner."

"Bloody hell, we're going to be dining with some duchess or duke or something of the sort, aren't we?"

Merlin heard Gwen shout something that didn't pertain to him, and grimaced at her frazzled tone. It was a wonder she had survived so long. Morgana's office was busy when she was there to control the chaos of the most unruly and emotional dependent writers in the world. Merlin couldn't imagine what it was like in her absence.

"You're right. Look, I'm wiring money into your account. Buy a tux."

Merlin shrieked. "What? No! Gwen, no. Please don't, I don't need Morgana's pity--"

"Merlin, I've really got to run. See you at 8."

The line went dead.

Merlin took a deep breath and looked desperately at Kilgharrah, who was circling Will's newest jacket and pawing at it with his tiny, white feet. Surprisingly, the cat didn't seem to have anything to say. That alone made Merlin suspicious that Kilgharrah was enjoying Merlin's turmoil.

<3<3<3

Merlin twitched in front of the mirror in the hallway.

"I look like a monkey."

He tilted his head and adjusted his tie.

"Nah, monkeys don't wear suits," Will said helpfully from his perched on the back of the couch. Merlin sighed. He looked ridiculous.

"I look like a little kid in dress-up clothes."

"Little tikes don't wear five thousand pound suits."

Merlin blushed wildly. "God, I can't believe I spent that much money."

"S'okay. Wasn't yours, was it? Had to spend all of it on something or Morgana would take it out of your next book sales," Will said, his mouth full of apple.

"I know," Merlin said. He adjusted his striped black tie. He did like the tie quite a lot, even if it was a horrid amount of money. "But I just feel so uncomfortable. It's like, wearing money or some sort of rubbish."

"Mate, I hate to break it to you, but you are wearing money."

Merlin whimpered.

"Cheer up, at least the food will be posh."

Merlin resisted the temptation to bury his hands in his hair. Only the sheer amount of time it took to get it to lay flat reminded him that he should be wise to do something else with his frustration. Like set Will on fire and let Kilgharrah eat the remains.

"Best be on your way," Will said around another mouthful of half-chewed apple. "Morgana'll be off her knob if she found out you were late."

"Right."

Merlin turned away from the mirror to grab his wallet and made way for the door. He looked down again, straightening his suit jacket and breathing in deep breaths that did nothing to calm him. His shoes squeaked slightly as he rocked. They weren't half bad either, soft leather in two tones of white and black. They actually looked like they belonged to Fred Astaire, or some other charming film star. He hoped he didn't look too ridiculous.

"Here, take this for luck."

Merlin turned to Will, who was startlingly close. He held up the handkerchief, delicate embroidery showing through Will's fist.

"I'm not taking that."

"Oh, would you just shut your fucking gob," Will muttered as he stuffed the cloth into the breast pocket of Merlin's tux. "Get on with it."

"Right," Merlin said again, for what felt like the fiftieth time that night.

"I won't wait up," Will teased, his eyebrows dancing as Merlin turned and shut the door.

<3<3<3

"Tell me again why I'm here," Merlin said as he fidgeted in the soft bench seat of the town car they were riding in. He was so uncomfortable in the tux that he was sure that everyone was going to know he was just a lowly writer, another one of Morgana's latest minions, that he wouldn't even get to open his mouth and make a fool of himself.

Gwen, of course, looked stunning. Stunning enough that no one would question why she was there in Morgana's place, and they wouldn't even second-guess her clearly common name and even more common background. Merlin would stand out like a sore thumb.

"Merlin, I already told you, Morgana told me to take you," Gwen said as she stared at her Blackberry, scrolling through hundreds of emails and typing at the same time. Morgana had bought Merlin one when he first started working under her direction, but he couldn't figure it out. It was a damn future machine that had every intention of helping drive Merlin into insanity.

"But why did Morgana order you to take me?" Merlin was perfectly aware that he was whining, though he was beyond the point of caring. If he was going to have to sit around and be insulted in perfectly polite conversation for the rest of the night, he was going to get his whining over beforehand.

Gwen looked up from her phone. "Morgana said that nothing unblocked gay writers more than posh social events."

"That's absurd."

"She said that all the repressed but fairly blatant homosexuality would inspire you."

Merlin closed his eyes in utter despair. Morgana was an editor. She was not a writing assistant. She did not comfort writers beyond offering up her twat and magical breasts for inspiration. She ordered things to be written magnificently or she would lop something important off. Books were written underneath her tyranny, but they were not inspired.

"Will there be an open bar?"

Gwen threw a sympathetic glance in his direction before turning back to her phone.

"Tell me there's a bright side."

Gwen grinned. "Do you want Morgana's bright side or mine?"

"Save me," Merlin moaned and slumped in the seat. To hell with his suit being wrinkled; the night was going to be a disaster anyway. He had never been very good at divination-- well, that is to say that his magic had never been very good at divination, but his gut feeling was telling him that the night was going to be horrid whether he looked decent in a tux or not. (He didn't, for the record, and he was going to tell Morgana so when she returned.)

"Well, Morgana said all the gorgeous men would stimulate your writing. But she said it in that tone that meant she wasn't telling me something. So who the hell knows who will be showing up," Gwen said gleefully.

"Probably the bloody King of Albion, or worse, his son. Only Morgana would think the gossip mags wrote more than rubbish," Merlin muttered. "Do you think the actual Queen will be there?"

"I doubt it, Merlin. I doubt any real royalty will be there. I mean, you'd think I would have patched calls through to Morgana and known if she were related to true royalty."

Merlin nodded. Morgana always had rumors of royal ties floating around her, but Merlin had yet to see evidence. She did, however, speak to a lot of people in code, but Merlin thought that was just because she enjoyed being ridiculous.

"I'm sure it's just a bunch of no-name dukes, who, although disarmingly pretty, will be either completely straight or so far on the down low that even you won't be able to pick up their signal," Gwen continued.

"Did you just say 'down low' in all seriousness?"

"Spare me your indignation."

"I wish I were dead."

Gwen flashed a gorgeous smile his way, completely melting his insides and making him feel slightly better, despite his determination to be surly.

"Come on then, what's your good news? I know you're dying to tell me," Merlin teased, poking her thigh through her lavender gown.

Gwen blushed slightly, glancing at him quickly before going back to her Blackberry. "Lance is coming over for a movie after I get done here."

"You naughty slunt," Merlin exclaimed. His own grin had taken over his face in spite of his jealousy over Lance. There was no hating biology.

"Slunt?"

"Slut and cunt."

Gwen grimaced. "Right. I don't think my vocabulary is going to be the low point in the night."

"I can't wait to tell Morgana that you'd rather hang out with some common chav instead of royalty."

"Please," Gwen said slyly. "I've already sent her a picture. She has no qualms over my choices."

"You play dirty," Merlin said as the car slowed and his easy mood evaporated around him, replaced by his earlier anxiety.

"Ready?"

"Absolutely not," Merlin said firmly.

Gwen opened the door into the night and Merlin had no choice but to follow.

<3<3<3

Will was right: at least the food was expensive and delightful because the company was lacking. As per expectation, there was an enormous amount of people who considered themselves royalty, but whom Merlin had never heard of before. They were all dukes and duchesses, part of Parliament, or famous for an entirely different reason that still escaped Merlin. They were all dull and drab and politely insulting. Merlin was half certain that Morgana was buying a tiger just to get out of coming to the blasted affair. Or, she had some spy lurking in the corner and recording Merlin's pain just so she could cackle at him in her office later. It was no secret that Morgana relished in other people's tumultuous experiences. She was an editor. It was her job.

Merlin was so bored he had taken to changing the shape of the ice cubes in his glass and hoping that no one would notice the tiny flash of gold in his averted eyes. It was just a bit of magic, nothing too fancy as to draw attention to himself, but at least it was keeping him awake.

"And this is?"

Merlin looked up to see a small group of people staring at him. Gwen trod on his toe as gracefully as possible underneath the table. He felt a flush work up his neck.

"Merlin, erm, Merlin Emrys," he stuttered out. Everyone continued to look at him blankly, which Merlin took a sign to continue. "I'm a writer under Morgana."

Gwen thankfully jumped in, pressing in close to him. "Merlin is being modest, he's one of Miss Le Fay's best new writers."

No one looked impressed. Merlin tried a tiny smile, hopeful to look harmless and insignificant. It worked.

"Ms. Smith, please enlighten us to Miss Le Fay's whereabouts? I'm afraid we've rather lost touch as of late," a woman with shocking red hair and a twisted, unpleasant mouth said. Everyone turned to Gwen, and Merlin sat back, effectively out of the spotlight and happy to be ignored for the rest of the evening.

"Guests, Lady Helen hopes that you all have enjoyed your dinner," said a woman whose name may or may not have been Catrina, raising her glass. Everyone turned to pay attention to her. "Please join me in the ballroom."

Everyone clapped, and Merlin looked around as everyone started to get up and head toward two large French doors. Merlin took the time to pull close to Gwen.

"Please tell me we can leave now," Merlin whispered furiously. She looked irritated, but good-humored.

"Come on, let's go into the ballroom."

They both rose, scraping their chairs back. Merlin pretended that he wasn't clinging to Gwen's arm, and Gwen looked at him as if trying to calm a startled farm animal. Merlin hoped his glare imparted his feelings to their fullest extent, and by the faint smile of Gwen's face, he thought he might have succeeded.

"I'm not fucking dancing," Merlin whispered into her hair as they made their way through the room, towards what Merlin assumed was the ballroom.

"Watch your mouth."

"Posh people curse too."

"Shut up or I'll make you dance with Lady Helen," Gwen whispered back, just as furious.

Merlin shivered in repulsion. Lady Helen was an important someone's wife, but that didn't stop her from being a complete hag and shooting Merlin scandalously filthy looks across the room like she would devour him in a hot minute if she could only find a corner dark enough. She obviously didn't get the memo that socializing with commoners was beneath her, nor that Merlin was gay... or the notice that she was heinous-looking.

"Gwen, did I ever tell you how glowing you look this evening?" Merlin said, tightening his grip on her arm. Gwen flashed her teeth.

"Don't worry, Merlin. I think we're supposed to meet the honored guest now."

"What do you mean? The honored guest didn't have to attend the dinner? Because that's just not fair," Merlin whined, and grabbed a glass of champagne from a passing tray. Gwen took it right from his hands.

"Didn't you read the program?"

Merlin pouted as she sipped daintily at her glass. "I didn't think dinners had programs."

Gwen rolled her eyes. "Well, this one does, and the honored guest, who, before you ask, was not named, will be introduced and give a small speech."

"Then what?"

Gwen raised an eyebrow. "Then we mingle."

"If I start telling everyone I write gay porn, do you think they'll ask us to leave?"

Gwen laughed, her elbow poking him in the side. "Nah, I think Lady Helen will invite you back to her place, and that man with the sharp teeth will offer to blow you in the loo."

Merlin shuddered. "This is right awful. I hate Morgana."

"I'm quite sure she's counting on that fact."

"I'm going to murder that stupid tiger."

Gwen sipped on her champagne, and Merlin wondered if it tasted as expensive as it looked. His mouth watered a bit because it did look delicious. It was probably like drinking pure gold... or diamonds.

"I promise we'll leave as soon as we meet the guest speaker."

Merlin groaned, making a half-hearted grab for Gwen's glass of bubbly.

"Promise?"

Gwen nodded, laying her head on Merlin's shoulder. "Yes, I promise. I told Morgana we'd stay and meet him because I'm pretty sure that's why we're here. I mean, she said he was expecting us to be here. Whatever that means; you know how Morgana enjoys her riddles. After that, we'll get out of here."

"Can I have some champagne?"

"Maybe. Now, smile charmingly," Gwen said as a couple passed them. The lady of the pair was wearing a tiara. Gwen elbowed him in the ribs a bit too forcefully and Merlin let out a small 'oof'. "I said smile charmingly, not like you have a mental affliction."

"Right."

<3<3<3

"This isn't happening to me," Merlin whispered desperately in Gwen's ear, frantically clawing at where her arm and hand that were entwined with his so that he could fucking escape the room, which was full of people clapping politely even though they were all right surprised that Lady Helen had nabbed such a 'guest speaker' for her glorified dinner party.

"Calm down, you great queen," Gwen hissed back. Merlin wanted to die or vanish or something equally dramatic. Once, he had stopped time as a young lad to ensure that Will didn't snatch the last biscuit, and he was considering doing that now, but he wasn't sure how stopping time would speed him through his agony. And this was nothing short of agony.

"Thank you for such a warm welcome," Prince bloody Arthur of Albion said from his place on the small podium. Merlin gaped like a cod. Prince Arthur was more stunning, if that were possible, in person than the telly and the gossip mags made him out to be. His dark blue suit was tailored to his broad shoulders and did nothing to hide the fact that the prince spent most of his free time playing footie and was, as a result, fit as fuck. His golden hair looked incredibly soft, even from the small distance Merlin and Gwen stood from the podium, and it was artfully tousled in a way that suggested several hair stylists slaved over it until it met their perfect standards. Merlin thought it looked like Arthur had just been shagged... or shagged someone. Either way, the thought was putting absolutely naughty images in his mind that most certainly didn't belong there when Merlin was standing in a ballroom full of faux royalty and now, actual royalty.

He was going to kill Morgana.

Gwen elbowed him in the ribs again. Merlin swore under his breath; that particular spot was going to be sore in the morning from all the times she kept pounding on it. "Pay attention," she hissed, and Merlin blinked. The Prince of Albion was actually giving a pleasant speech about charity or volunteerism or something of the sort.

"It is not only our duty as royal servants to this country but our absolute privilege to be generous with the gentle estates that we have been charged to care for," the prince was saying. His hand gestures were gentle, and Merlin had a sudden flash back to his childhood, sitting in front of the telly and watching Prince Arthur give his first public speech to the kingdom. He had talked animatedly with his hands, and the commentator had said how young it made the prince look and how the royal family must get his enthusiasm under control. Merlin hadn't understood why the Prince of Albion shouldn't be excited to speak to his people. Looking back, it did look a bit uncouth, but Merlin much preferred that boyhood prince to the man in front of him, who looked perfect but spoke like a prat.

"Please join me in thanking Lady Helen for the opportunity to speak to you all in the comfort of her splendid home. Enjoy the rest of your evenings," the prince was finishing. Merlin hadn't even realized how much of the speech he had missed. It was Morgana's damn fault if she thought Merlin was going to listen to what Prince Arthur was saying when he looked so gorgeous in the soft light of the ballroom.

"Well, this is awkward," Gwen whispered in his ear as she shifted around on her feet. Merlin peered down at her, not masking his clearly confused face. "Oh for the sake of the Queen, Merlin! Weren't you listening?"

Merlin shook his head, trying to clear the fog from his brain. He scanned the room to see all the minor royal members clapping politely, with tight and uncomfortable smiles on their faces. When he glanced back at Gwen, her eyebrows were raised, but Merlin just shook his head again.

"This isn't a party for the sake of a party. It was obviously put together to chastise the members of the royal family for their behavior as of recent days and the spending of their money," Gwen hissed while still trying to keep a pleasant smile on her face. "Prince Arthur was lecturing them."

Merlin blinked. "He didn't sound cross."

"Of course not! Royalty doesn't demand anything from each other; they expect it," Gwen said as she straightened up from whispering into his shoulder.

"I should have guessed that Morgana was dragging us into something dreadfully pretentious and painful," Merlin said as he looked for a way to escape now that the prince was off the podium and making his way around the room. Merlin was absolutely not speaking to the bloody Prince of Albion today. He was not mentally prepared to meet his childhood crush in the flesh, not with how his life had been going as of late. Knowing his luck, the prince might plunge Merlin into an even deeper block and crush any aspirations of a future Merlin had.

"She was busy, Merlin. I'm not even sure why Morgana was invited. She's not royalty," Gwen said as she smiled to Lady Helen from across the room.

"Gwen, Morgana is off in Germany buying a tiger. A tiger," Merlin said, incredulous. "If Prince Arthur was talking about shaming the crown and pillaging the royal bank account, I'm pretty sure buying a tiger and curing writer's block with her woman-bits really fits that bill."

Gwen downed the rest of her champagne. "You don't really think that Morgana is royalty, do you?"

Merlin shrugged, looking around the room. Morgana didn't look like anybody here, and even though she was his editor, they tended to spend more than enough time together than was strictly professional. Merlin would have known if he was hanging out with royalty.

"Would you really put anything past her?" Merlin whispered in her ear, trying to smile charmingly and not like a loon while Gwen made small talk with an ugly bloke with a hooked nose. In the end, the man looked fairly scared and scurried away. Merlin didn't even try to look apologetic.

"You'd think we'd know," Gwen went on whispering. "It's not as if the press ever leaves the royal family alone." It amazed Merlin that Gwen could look like she was having a glorious evening, all the while whispering furiously to Merlin. It was obvious that she had superior control over her facial muscles.

"Maybe Morgana is an illegitimate child," Merlin said gleefully.

"Don't be stupid," Gwen hissed back. Suddenly, her back stiffened and Merlin frantically surveyed the room around them.

"Gwen, let's leave. Right this instant."

"Absolutely not. Morgana said to meet the guest of honor and that is exactly what we are doing," Gwen said, and dug her fingernails so deeply into his arm that Merlin was sure he was bleeding through his tux.

"I'm not ready for this," Merlin said hysterically. He could see the prince taking long strides towards them, a small quirk to his lips that was threatening to actually weaken Merlin's knees.

"Nut up," Gwen hissed just as Prince Arthur arrived in front of them.

"You must be Ms. Smith," he said, smiling with a row of perfectly white teeth. Merlin watched in slow motion as Prince Arthur extended his hand and met Gwen's, which he brought to his mouth and kissed. It was disgustingly disarming. Merlin was torn between throwing himself on the prince or throwing up all over his shoes.

"Morgana has told me so much about her capable assistant and dear friend," Arthur went on, practically speaking against Gwen's hand before he lowered it. Merlin thought he could see actual stars in Gwen's eyes. It was his turn to elbow her, not that his own eyes looked any better. Hell, they were probably glowing.

"I'm afraid I can't say the same," Gwen said blushing. "But please, call me Gwen."

Prince Arthur laughed, his head slightly tilting back and exposing enough of his throat to physically cause Merlin's mouth to water. "Morgana does like to keep her royal ties to herself."

"Understatement of the year," Merlin muttered to Gwen, only to have Prince Arthur turn his attention towards him. Merlin squirmed as the prince looked at him, as if just seeing him.

"And you are?"

Merlin glared as Prince Arthur's voice dripped with ostentatious amusement. Merlin was not amusement for the sake of royalty. He was a person, not a circus attendant. Prince Arthur stuck his hand out and Merlin simply glared harder and stuck close to Gwen's side.

"I'm Merlin Emrys," Merlin said reluctantly. He ignored the several violent but surprisingly subtle jabs at his ribs by Gwen. He wasn't going to shake this prat's hand. Royalty or not, Merlin wouldn't be talked down to like he was a commoner. He understood that he was a commoner, but he didn't need to be reminded by some royal prat who obviously had gotten away with being awful to everyone for so long that no one called him out on it anymore.

Merlin had nothing to lose. Fuck Morgana and her torture.

Prince Arthur raised his eyebrows in mild surprise but didn't say anything to Merlin's obvious shunning. In fact, he looked even more amused. Merlin felt his glare turn into a scowl. Prince Arthur turned back to Gwen, his eyes twinkling in mirth. Merlin wouldn't have been surprised if the prince had an attendant to throw glitter in his pupils at the most opportune moments. His eyes were literally glimmering, and it was causing Merlin heart palpitations.

"I take it Morgana has neglected to explain the nature of this event or why she was invited," Prince Arthur said, snagging a glass of champagne from a blushing server.

"Nope, she thought it best to throw us to the beasts without warning," Merlin grumbled. Gwen choked on her own spit.

"Yes, well," the prince said with a pause. "Morgana is actually third in line for the throne."

It was Merlin's turn to choke, this time on his tongue, and Gwen had to untangle them to pound on his back. Merlin watched with watery eyes as Prince Prat looked on in further amusement. Merlin was torn between wanting to die and obliterating the entire room with magic; he hadn't ever used magic to kill someone, but he was pretty sure his mortification and surprise were enough to give it a good go.

"Since the Queen failed to have any heirs, the crown will pass to my father and then to me."

"Where does Morgana come in?" Gwen asked boldly, still rubbing soothing circles on Merlin's back.

"Morgana's father and mine were friends at St. Andrews, and after the death of Morgana's parents, my father adopted her. We grew up together," Prince Arthur said casually.

"How does no one know about this?" Merlin finally regained his voice and squeaked out. Reality was quickly sinking in--Morgana, third in line to the crown of fucking England, had been marking up his gay erotic fiction with a red pen. Merlin felt a blush bloom from what felt like the bottom of his soul.

Despite the above implications, something else felt prickly and hot in his chest. Morgana hadn't told them, and it hurt, twisted sharp and lingering. They were friends, first. They always had been and Merlin was under the impression that they always would be. Morgana had been there when Merlin finally found his father, only to have him murdered in a convenience store robbery not three weeks later. Merlin had been there to help pick Morgana off the ground every time the anniversary of her father's death came about. They had both been there, dressed in black and pillars of strength for Gwen, when her father had been falsely accused of the murder of her mother, resulting in his execution. They were bound together with more than just contracts. They were family. A chosen family that Merlin held dear. Without them and Will, Merlin would have been nothing.

And to think, he had been thinking about telling Morgana the truth about his magic. Merlin shuddered, the amusement of the evening quickly dissipating. He felt his magic swell with humiliation and prickle underneath his skin.

Prince Arthur finished his champagne carefully, his tongue sweeping out to moisten his bottom lip. Merlin felt his magic lurch at the lazy importance the man in front of him exuded. His body was definitely ambivalent, torn between extreme arousal and repugnance.

"Morgana accidentally ran over a reporter with a car when she was thirteen. The media has been terrified of her since," Prince Arthur continued offhandedly, oblivious to the change in Merlin's demeanor. "Besides, due to her late father's investments, Morgana owns a large portion of shares in most, if not all, of the United Kingdom's media outlets. If they dared print anything about her, she'd probably send them off to a war torn country and get them killed."

Merlin felt Gwen force out a trickle of laughter as Prince Prat smiled at her, wide and charming. Merlin really needed a drink. This was by far the most surreal experience of his life. He was torn between being in awe of the man in front of him, full of confidence and grace, and being completely disgusted with his narcissistic air about him, aware of his privilege and beauty--aware of exactly who he was in the eyes of every common citizen in the UK and his ability to exploit that fact.

"Tell me, Merlin," the Prince said, turning his twinkling gaze towards him. "What kind of fiction do you write?"

There was something about his tone and the set of his jaw, smug and superior, that turned Merlin's stomach sour. What kind of game was being played here? It was glaringly obvious that Prince Arthur knew exactly what kind of writing Merlin did and was making a game out of it--making a fool out of Merlin. This wasn't a joke, this was his life, and he wasn't going to be made an ass out of just for the amusement of royalty. He was good writer and he was a proud gay man. No one, royalty or not, was going to make a laughingstock of Merlin's life.

"No, no," Merlin said sweetly, "tell me what it's like to be heir to a throne you've never rightly earned. Seeing as my Queen Elizabeth never found it necessary to stoop low enough to have a shag, let alone children, with one of your inbred family members, I'm surprised--she's such a fine woman--that she'd let the crown pass over to you lot. Albion isn't even a real place. So you tell me," Merlin said, wickedly sharp. "Tell me what it's like to be Prince over a fictional people?"

Gwen was gaping at him. He could feel it burning through the side of his head, but his eyes were trained on Prince Arthur's, refusing to break his gaze even as Merlin realized that the entire ballroom was listening in on his speech. He thanked God, not for the first time, that he published under a pen name and that he wasn't the only gay erotica writer under Morgana's tutelage.

"The Pendragon family of Albion represents the history of this country," Prince Prat gritted out, his jaw tight and his eyes now alight with carefully controlled anger. Merlin would have been incredibly turned on if he weren't so furious himself. "Her Majesty is the future of England, and together the royal family represents a unity of both past and future strengths of this country."

Merlin scoffed. "Is that what your daddy told you to say whenever the lads at school teased you?"

"I'm not sure who you think you are, Mr. Emrys, or if you're confused as to who I am. But I am certainly not a school boy," Arthur continued, through clenched teeth. "And you can't speak to me that way."

Merlin threw up his hand and took a step toward the prince, who was actually an inch shorter than him now that they were nearly nose to nose.

"I'll talk to you however I choose," Merlin said snidely. "I may just be a common chav but that doesn't give you any right to treat me or Gwen however you bloody choose. I'm not some minion who licks your arse for a leg up. And I'm not inclined to stick around for more of your bullshit. Lecture your posh friends all you want, you're all a bunch of pompous, inbred slime. No wonder Morgana didn't want anyone important in her life to know about being related, even by contract, to any of you."

With that he stomped off, rage and magic coursing through his veins. He pushed through throngs of people, not caring who he pushed or shoved. Fuck them. He made his way through the kitchen, and passed the servant's entrance before he found a staircase that led him down to the back alley behind the building, leaving the sprawling penthouse behind him.

Merlin made sure to magic himself a bottle of their expensive champagne on his way out.

<3<3<3

Merlin stared at the ceiling.

Well, it wasn't a ceiling anymore. He had conjured storm clouds to reflect his mood and to keep Kilgharrah away. The nettlesome cat had attacked him as soon as Merlin got home from Morgana's ridiculous and humiliating dinner. He was in such a foul mood that he hadn't even gotten any pleasure out of chasing Kilgharrah out of the living room with lightning bolts.

Lightning bolts always brought him joy.

He felt bad about leaving Gwen there to deal with the aftermath of Merlin's outburst, but she ran Morgana's office and she was more than capable of dealing with a little ruffle in the royal feathers. Not that she should have to, but damnit, what was Morgana thinking, putting them in that situation? Sending them into the den of faux royalty was funny, not cruel; sending them into a den of realization of Morgana's real identity was, making it feel like they were all mocking Merlin and Gwen for being in the dark about Morgana's royal connections. Merlin had never been ashamed of who he was, whether it be working class or gay or an erotica writer. His mother had taught him to be more than any of those things. His magic reminded him every day that he was much more than any of those things.

Hell, even Kilgharrah insisted he had a destiny.

The real problem didn't lie with Prince Arthur, although he was an insufferable prat. The real problem was that Morgana was keeping a secret, just as Merlin was doing. Secrets were secrets for a reason. Merlin knew this, but the sting of Morgana's lie of omission was more than just her deceit; it was Merlin's guilt. They were friends. They were family and he should have told her and Gwen about his magic. He had no idea what was stopping him. There was no way they would abandon him. Will didn't and he was the most fickle person in the world. If anyone would throw a huge tantrum and threaten to out Merlin to the world it would have been Will. But Gwen and Morgana? It was unthinkable.

So then what was stopping him?

"God, I'm such an emotional fucktard," Merlin said into the darkness. The cloud-filled ceiling rumbled once with thunder before it started to rain. Thankfully, the raindrops evaporated before they reached the ground. It felt cleansing. Not to mention how riled up his magic had felt when he was arguing with Prince Arthur. The last time he had felt his magic surge like that had been with the mystery man in the glory hole.

Merlin laughed out loud.

God, his magic was so bloody strange! How it could equate a situation like the one earlier in the night to getting his prick sucked in a loo-- however amazing and intimate it was, they really weren't on the same level. And yet his magic had recognized it, and Merlin had fought to control it. Who knew if he succeeded; there was no way in knowing if his eyes had glowed gold or not. He was fairly sure he didn't hear any glasses shatter, and that was the run of the mill reaction to angry and uncontrollable magic.

Thunder rolled through the living room, and Merlin glared. His magic still felt restless, but his fingers didn't itch to write. Was glory hole man honestly the answer to his latest bit of writer's block?

Did it matter?

Merlin sighed and flicked his wrist, sending the stolen bottle of champagne to the ice box. Will would be pleased and even more excited to hear the entire sordid tale of his evening, if Gwen hadn't called him already. Merlin didn't have the energy to feel ashamed, the emotions were too raw.

The rain fell cool and soothing over his face until he succumbed to sleep.

<3<3<3

"And then you just got the hell out of there?"

Merlin sipped at his tea and nodded. As predicted, Will was completely enthralled with Merlin's tale. Will had a serious vendetta against English authority of any sort, and took rebellious acts against Queen and Crown to heart.

"You've spoken to Gwen?"

"Not since last night," Merlin said. He was feeling increasingly guilty about that, but he was still embarrassed and would need to explain why he freaked out so violently to Morgana's secret and Prince Arthur's particularly brand of prattishness. He wasn't ready for that just yet.

Will shook his head, but he was grinning into his tea cup. "I still can't believe you said all that. What got your knickers in a twist? Other than the fact that Prince Arthur is obviously a fucking cunt."

Merlin sighed and drained the rest of his tea, playing with the handle of his mug. "It's just, Morgana's big secret made me think about my magic."

Will nodded solemnly. If there was one thing that Will took completely seriously, it was the sharing of Merlin's magic. Will had been the first person outside of Merlin's mother to know about the magic and Merlin had shared his fears about letting people know about it. It could be so easy for someone to take advantage of him, Merlin's mother had always worried that Merlin's trusting nature would get him into dangerous trouble some day. Telling Will had been a relief, knowing that telling someone about his magic wasn't going to be the end of the world and that yes, sometimes things really did work out in his favor. There was always the clear and present danger that Merlin might make a mistake and tell someone who had more dangerous ideas than letting Merlin doing the dishes with magic, and how that could break his heart. As it was, just his mum and Will knew about his magic and Merlin wasn't sure he wanted to change that.

"You want to tell them?"

Merlin looked up, but there was nothing but trust and unbelievable support in Will's eyes. Not for the first time, Merlin was so glad to have Will around. Even if he was utterly disgusting, crass, and obsessed with Morgana's breasts. He was the best friend Merlin could have ever asked for.

"I do," Merlin said, breaking eye contact. "But something is stopping me."

Will shrugged. "Have you asked the cat? He always seems to have his own opinions about this shit."

Merlin laughed. He rarely asked Kilgharrah for advice because when he did, the cat spoke in murky riddles. When he didn't ask, and Kilgharrah volunteered fortune cookie wisdom, it was easier to understand. "Nah, I figured I'd let him come to me. He might be a bit pissed at me."

"What'd you do?"

"Don't look so gleeful, it wasn't anything drastic. I just chased him around the living room last night with lightning bolts."

Will cackled, pouring them both another cup of tea. "Serves the fucker right."

"Suppose so," Merlin murmured. He felt so scattered and emotionally charged.

"You should go play today," Will said. "And you should let me come."

Merlin stopped mid-sip. "Will..."

"Hear me out before you shoot me down, mate." Will put his hands up, as if to placate Merlin's future protests. "You're restless and you obviously don't know what you're going to do about Gwen and Morgana, not to mention the fact that Morgana is going to be right pissed you told her brother off."

"Prince Arthur is not her brother."

"Might as well be! They grew up together, Merlin." Will said it lightly but Merlin could hear the undertones: They're real family, like us. Be careful. It burned but it needed to be heard. "Do you really want to be around here, magic all tingly, when Morgana comes round to yell?"

Merlin drank his tea. Will might have a point, even if he used the word tingly again.

"Come on. You can get us there quick, your mum won't even know, and you can just get it all out of your system. You'll decide what you want to do about spilling the magic beans, and you can go talk to them tonight," Will said. His face looked earnest. But Merlin knew he had other motives too.

"You promise not to talk too much?"

Will grinned. "Fuck that."

Merlin nodded, unable to hide a grin of his own.

<3<3<3


Part Three