No Ordinary Groupie - Merlin - Arthur/Merlin

Mar 21, 2009 15:51

Title: No Ordinary Groupie
Pairing: Arthur/Merlin
Word Count: 3566
Rating: PG-13/R
A/N: Modern day AU. This was originally started for one of comment_fic's prompts, but grew rather extremely beyond comment-sized.
Summary: As an up and coming rock star, Arthur Pendragon is used to having people fall at his feet - and Merlin, a thoroughly unimpressed technician, is the only one willing to put him back in his place.


The best thing about being the lead singer in a rock band is the groupies. This, Arthur feels sure, is a reasonably well-known fact. If you know how to sing a song and you're brave enough to stand on stage with the lights shining in your eyes for long enough, the world is yours for the taking: the women (and men, from time to time) drop to their knees at the faintest hint of a smile backstage. It's something that Arthur's gotten rather used to and grown extremely fond of.

Which is why Merlin - stupid, annoying, stubborn, clumsily, interesting-looking Merlin - is so utterly frustrating. A light technician at one of Arthur's band's regular venues, he doesn't even so much as bat an eyelid regardless of what level of charm Arthur attempts to throw at him. At first his flirting had been little more than a joke, something to do to pass the time while Lancelot and the others tuned their instruments. After the complete lack of a reaction, beyond an amused smile and a few snarky comments, it had become something a lot more than that: it had become a challenge.

"Give it up, Arthur," Lancelot says, before raising a bottle of water to his lips and drinking deep.

Arthur returns his attention to Lancelot from where he had been (not so subtly, it has to be said) watching Merlin hungrily as the techie fiddled with something or other. In all honesty Arthur couldn't say what the large black piece of equipment that Merlin is adjusting is, only that it looks ridiculously expensive and that he can't believe that anybody would trust someone like Merlin, who has been known to trip over his own feet and walk into mirrors upon occasion, with something that must cost a ridiculous amount of money.

"Give what up?" he sighs, certain that Lancelot is about to delve uninvited into his psyche.

"Watching Merlin like that. You're never going to get anywhere with him."

Arthur snorts at him dismissively. "Of course I am. I'm Arthur Pendragon."

"And he is Merlin Emrys, and is completely uninterested in anything you have to offer." Lancelot smiles at him as he sits down on the edge of the stage. Arthur always loves this part of the evening: the adrenaline that begins to surge through his body when he looks out at the unfilled club and imagines what it will look like once they're playing later. "You do realise that he's straight?"

"There's no such thing as sexuality. Only 'people who have-'"

"'- not met Arthur yet.'. I know." Lancelot sighs at him and together they look towards Merlin. As usual, Merlin ignores them entirely and continues with his work, even though Arthur's sure that he must be able to hear them. He's fairly close, and with ears like that he must have some sort of advanced hearing ability in any case.

“Oi!" he calls over to him. "Oi! Merlin!"

"Your seduction technique needs a little work," Lancelot suggests under his breath.

Arthur is content to ignore him, especially when Merlin glances over his shoulder at them. "What?"

"You need to settle something for us," Arthur says, leaning forward with his forearms resting upon his legs. "Lancelot here seems under the impression that you're straight. Tell him that's ridiculous."

"I'll tell him no such thing," Merlin protests, still crouched down beside that expensive piece of equipment near the bottom of the stage.

"So you are straight?" Arthur doesn't bother to hide the intense disappointment in his voice, though he finds the silver lining in the fact that that at least explains why Merlin is so annoyingly resistant to Arthur's considerable charms.

"I never said that," Merlin answers, "but I'm not going to get involved with your little games. I've actually got work to do."

"So do I!"

"Since when is chatting about the venue staff's sexuality 'work'?"

"Ah! I knew you were listening in on us. That's terrible. Eavesdropping… Shameful. Yes, shame on you, Emrys."

"With you talking so prattishly loud it's impossible not to listen in." Despite the way that he's grouching, Merlin is still smiling. Arthur decides that that's a very good sign and feels a smile of his own coming on. "Not to mention that your idea of sexuality is so self-absorbed as to be unbelievable. You're quite possibly the most arrogant man we've ever had in here."

Beside him, Lancelot very hurriedly looks away then stands up to go and fiddle with his guitar again. Arthur's smile has certainly fractured. "You do realise that I'm the lead singer of a successful rock band? You can't talk to me like that."

"The Camelots haven't even got a record deal yet," Merlin says, "and if you did then I'd get the dubious pleasure of getting one of the bouncers to throw you off stage. Unsigned acts only, remember?"

"That's hardly the point. We've got a buzz. We're going places."

"Good for you." Merlin's smile twitches at him. "I'll look forward to the day that these 'places' you're going don't involve here."

Arthur has many mean and cutting things to say back to him in return (really. He does. No, honestly; it might even make Merlin cry, he thinks) but he decides that perhaps he should pretend that chivalry isn't dead after all and hold his tongue. We don't all have to sink to Merlin's level, he tells himself determinedly as he begins to get to his feet. "One of these days you're going to rue the day you said that to me," he prophesises.

It doesn't have quite the effect he'd been hoping for - all he receives is a sarcastic nod (and Arthur isn't even sure how a nod can even be sarcastic, but Merlin manages it) and then Merlin is focused on his stupid piece of equipment again.

Walking over to Lancelot, Arthur interrupts before he can say anything about that confrontation. "Don't say a word, Lance," he warns.

Dutifully, his friend stays silent. Just as well: Arthur doesn't think that his ego could handle any more bruising.

That bash to the ego is cured the second he takes to the stage. The crowd's good tonight, filled with fans both casual and more dedicated. At times, Arthur can hear them singing along with him and that's nothing in the world that feels as good as that, nothing at all (except, perhaps, the talented heat of someone's mouth on his cock). The bright lights that shine upon him leaving him sweating, and by the end of the night, when the cheering fades away and once they've finished their encore, he's needy and ready to take anyone home.

He chooses a man tonight; a boy, probably. He barely looks seventeen and maybe Arthur is skirting with immorality here but he can't help it. With lips like that, who could blame him?

"Do you want to take me home tonight?" he asks, leaning against the wall backstage and watching this young fan before him.

The man-boy (what's his name again? Arthur hasn't been paying much attention) licks his gorgeous lips and nods. With dark hair and striking blue eyes, Arthur's sure that there's a resemblance there that Lancelot would find extremely amusing: it makes him glad to know that the guitarist has already headed home to his early domestic bliss with Gwen, his girlfriend.

As he takes his favourite groupie (for tonight, in any case) by the hand and begins to lead him out of the club, he sees Merlin by the light board: there's a group of people around him, flocking to him easily. It makes Arthur burn with an emotion something like jealousy, and he holds onto his fan's hand with a little more strength than he ought to. It's not fair. It's not fair, god damn it, and he wishes that there was some way that he could teach Merlin a lesson.

On his way out, Merlin looks up and Arthur manages to catch his eye. He sees the way that Merlin glances between him and the young man that he has with him, putting things together.

This could be you, Arthur says with a smirk, if you'd played your cards right.

Merlin has a smirk of his very own, That could be me, if you weren't such a prat.

Arthur has the unsettling feeling that Merlin's smirk probably tops his own - and he's glad, for once, when he gets to leave the club behind.

*

"Hangover?" Morgana asks innocently, sipping tea across the kitchen table from him.

Groaning, Arthur places his forehead on the smooth, varnished wood. He wishes he wasn't here; dealing with Morgana is absolutely the last thing that he wants to do today. "I wasn't even drinking last night," he complains.

"Then why are you writhing around like that?" Morgana teases all too gleefully. "You shouldn't let Uther see you."

"As if my father could disapprove of me any more than he already does." A life of rock and roll and promiscuous sex is probably not what had been intended for Uther Pendragon's son. Sadly, Arthur doesn't exactly fit the mould of 'golden boy', though he used to try. "And, as I said before, I am not hung-over. I had a bad night last night."

But that's not it at all, really. The man-boy he'd taken home had been rather more experienced than Arthur had been expecting, pleasantly so, and he’d moaned so nicely when Arthur fucked him, but something had felt… wrong - it had felt like something was missing, something important, (but Arthur had checked and they'd definitely been using protection so it couldn't be that) and now he's woken up feeling bad and cranky and that wrongness is still there, pooling in his belly.

"This wouldn't happen to have something to do with that technician Lancelot was telling me about?" Morgana asks innocently. Arthur decides, at that precise moment, that he is really going to slaughter Lancelot whenever the opportunity arises. He closes his eyes and groans again, loudly. Morgana laughs. "Oh my god, it does. Are you lovesick, Arthur?" she sing-songs.

Morgana is also on his list of people he will slaughter when he finally snaps, but she's been on that list ever since his father became her legal guardian when she was thirteen.

"I am not lovesick. At all. I'm Arthur Pendragon."

With many people (hundreds, he's certain) that alone would be enough to prove his innocence of what she's accusing him of. With Morgana, it results only in an amused twist of her lips. Arthur wonders why people keep smirking at him like that. It's rather annoying.

"What's his name?" she asks as if he hasn't protested at all.

"There's no name! No 'he'! Nothing."

"Arthur, I've known you since you were a child." Morgana's disapproving stare is one that even a mother would be proud of, so Arthur merely turns his head on the table so that he's facing away from her and closes his eyes again. Stupid Morgana. Stupid Lancelot.

Stupid, stupid Merlin.

His eyes might be closed, but he's absolutely certain that he can actually hear it as Morgana rolls her eyes. "If there's no 'he' then perhaps you should stop moping. I thought the show went well last night?"

"It went better than 'well'." Nonetheless, he's decided that he's going to have to work out a way to destroy Morgana's instant messaging programs just to prevent her from gossiping with his friends. He has no idea how exactly to do something like that, but he knows that he'll be able to work something out (and he tries not to think that this is exactly the sort of thing that a technician would probably be extremely good at). "Lancelot also wanted me to let you know that there's another show on at the same club tonight."

"Excellent. Why should I care?"

"He said that this is the kind of music your little crush likes."

Arthur snorts at her. He is absolutely not the sort of man that has crushes on anybody at all, and certainly not annoying little snots with sticky-out ears like Merlin Emrys. As if he would give him the satisfaction of actually turning up to anything like that…

"What time does it start, out of curiosity?"

Curiosity's sake and nothing but that, obviously. He just wants to compare staring times of his act with whoever this person is. Obviously. Nothing more than that (he most definitely is not planning on doing along in the hopes of running into Merlin. That would be ridiculous).

"Eight o'clock," Morgana answers. He hears the sound of her chair scraping over the kitchen floor as she pushes it back and stands up. "See you there, Arthur."

He groans at her one last time, then sets to work on various nefarious plots to get Lancelot back for this imposition.

*

It doesn't mean anything that he's here, back in the same club. He's in the audience this time, lurking near the back instead of pressing near the stage. The entire atmosphere is different tonight: there are no deafening guitars or thumping drum beats. On the stage sits a solitary female. Her hair is long and she looks as if she's stepped straight out of the 70s, all pale skin and flowing skirts. Arthur's fairly certain that she's actually bare foot. There's an acoustic guitar in her lap and the music is so gentle ('beautiful', he's sure Morgana would call it) that he's surprised the crowd is still awake after all this time.

And there is a crowd, and a large one. Arthur has turned up late - he doubts that he could sit through 'Merlin's kind of music' for too long without going absolutely bonkers - but it seems that he's lucky to even get through the door. The place is never this packed whenever the Camelots are playing, and he tries not to feel slighted.

It doesn't take him long to locate Merlin, leaning against the bar. There's something about Merlin, a magnetic quality that seems to draw him in stronger and stronger every time that Arthur is (lucky enough) unfortunate enough to come across him. In the darkness of the club his pale skin seems to glow, and Arthur's eyes can't help but be drawn to the neck scarf he's wearing. He's never actually seen Merlin wearing anything other than the standard black t-shirt that is required for his job. This is Merlin on one of his days off - and he's wearing the clothes of the annoying hipsters that Arthur likes to harass whenever he's given the chance, but… He's Merlin. He's Merlin in the same way that Arthur is Arthur: it means that he can get away with crimes that other people cannot, including wearing scarves in an extremely hot room and skinny jeans that he probably has to be poured into every morning.

It takes him a few moments to notice who it is that's standing beside Merlin, talking to him, but as soon as he does Arthur finds himself frowning: Morgana. And, to make matters worse, there's Lancelot too. And Gwen. All of them standing around his Merlin, chatting as if they're actually friends.

He's not yours, Arthur reminds himself as he walks towards them. Stubbornly, he adds, Yet.

"Are my friends harassing you?" he asks once he reaches Merlin's side, placing a hand on his arm and offering his most charming smile.

"Of course not," Merlin responds. "We were just taking bets on how long it would take you to come over here."

Arthur is not blushing (perhaps he's a little flushed, but that's only because it's extremely warm in here). "So who won the bet?"

"Me," Morgana answers. "Naturally."

"I think I came a close second," Merlin counters.

"Doesn't count. You were cheating."

On the stage, the singer finishes the latest of her dreary songs and Merlin and the girls applaud and cheer wildly. Arthur tells himself that he absolutely should not take someone with such appalling taste in music to bed with him, but there's something charming about the way Merlin is smiling and the joyful way his face has lit up. Something extremely charming, in fact, but he stops watching once he realises that that is exactly the same way that Lancelot is watching Gwen. When the next song starts, Merlin is still paying far too much attention to the girl on the stage, so Arthur orders himself a drink and tries merely to bask in the novelty of being allowed to stand next to Merlin without being hit by the acid of his tongue. It's probably the first time he's ever had such an experience.

It's a pleasant experience, especially when he notices that Merlin isn't objecting to how close he's standing, and doesn't push him away when he edges just a little bit closer. He can feel Merlin's body heat now, pressed against his arm, and after that it is really no effort at all to raise his arm and drape it over Merlin's shoulders: he fits against him perfectly, like a jigsaw piece slotting into place.

It attracts Merlin's attention, finally winning it back from the singer, and Arthur is relieved that he is not immediately set upon for his daring. Instead he is gifted with a smug smile, and Merlin laughs - almost to himself - before saying, "You are such a dork," and returning his attention to the stage.

Arthur doesn't think that he has ever been called a 'dork' in his entire life. He can't decide if he likes it or not.

What he does like, however, is the way that Merlin rests his head against his shoulder and leans against him when the slower (even slower, to be more accurate, seeing as all of these songs seem as if they'd be lapped by a snail) songs come on. The evening isn't turning out to be so bad after all.

It comes to an end, of course, as these things always do.

"You can walk me home if you'd like," Merlin offers (and Arthur has to admit that his cock stirs a little in anticipation, as he thinks of all the filthy things he'd like to do with Merlin when they get somewhere private).

"See you tomorrow!" Morgana calls, laughing as she begins to head in the opposite direction in search of a taxi.

Arthur keeps his arm around Merlin's shoulders. He won't move it until Merlin forces him to. "Do you live nearby?" he asks.

"Yeah, a few streets away. Don't worry; it isn't too far for your little legs to handle."

Arthur takes the opportunity to prod Merlin in the ribs, and is pleased to hear him laugh and squirm. Ticklish. That's something to bear in mind for later.

"Thank you for coming," Merlin says once they've been walking and talking casually for a while. "I didn't think you would."

Arthur frowns. "You were thinking about it either way?"

"I may have implied to Lancelot that I'd be open to the idea of you coming along…" Merlin says with a sly smile.

"You usually act like you hate me," Arthur points out. "You're a complete twat to me, most of the time."

"Yeah, 'cause most of the time you act like a complete prat. Whenever you're pretending to be a rock star…"

"I am a rock star."

"Oh, of course." Merlin's shoulders shake. He's probably laughing. "I figure you need someone to put you back in your place."

"I have Morgana for that," Arthur grumbles, though it's a relief to know that Merlin actually has a reason for putting him down and pushing him back all the time: it helps to cement his knowledge of his irresistibility.

"And now you have me too," Merlin says proudly. His walking slows to a stop. "This is me." He nods up at one of the buildings to their right. It looks the same as all of the others in this street and Arthur thinks that the rent is probably less than half of his own. Sometimes he forgets about the privilege that his family's money affords him. He waits expectantly, his thoughts wandering to how he's going to get Merlin back for all these months of teasing once they get upstairs, but Merlin smiles. "I'm not going to invite you up, you know."

"What?" It's possible that he sounds a little more shocked than is strictly polite.

"I don't intend on being another notch on Arthur Pendragon's bedpost. I'm not one of your groupies."

That, quite frankly, is extremely obvious. No groupie would ever talk to him in the way Merlin does or make him work half as hard.

"Don't worry. It'll be worth it," Merlin promises. "Trust me."

"Are you free tomorrow?"

"Why?"

"Because I'm going to take you out." It'll be the first date he's been on in his entire life (Arthur would never admit as much, but he finds the concept fairly frightening).

Merlin nods and takes a step backwards without so much as a goodnight kiss. "Ask Lancelot for my number," he advises - making him work just a little bit more. As he watches Merlin leave, pulling his flat keys out of those ridiculously skinny jeans, Arthur can't help but stand there and smile. He's never looked forward to working hard in his life - but trying to date Merlin Emrys is certainly something to greedily anticipate.

character:merlin, pairing:arthur/merlin, character:lancelot, character:arthur pendragon, fandom:merlin, challenge:comment_fic, character:morgana

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