I Am Gwen (the cutest cat on the Internet!) - Part 4
Title: I Am Gwen (the cutest cat on the Internet!)
Author: gwylliondream
Genre: Modern au
Pairing: Arthur/Merlin
Rating: NC-17
Words: 58,347
Author’s Notes: I Am Gwen was written for paperlegends and as a kinkme_merlin fill for this prompt.
Disclaimer: I did not create these characters. No disrespect intended. No profit desired, only muses.
Comments: Comments are welcome anytime! Thanks so much for reading!
“And that was all he said?” Gwaine dug at the plastic seal on a new box of Kleenexes, tearing the film off so a clean white tissue popped out from the top.
Merlin felt awful. He didn’t mean for Gwaine to give up his Saturday to watch him mope around his apartment, but being a good friend, Gwaine insisted that he bring coffee and bagels when he learned that Merlin had spent the night alone. The box of Kleenexes must have been an afterthought.
“He said he had to go back to his apartment,” Merlin said. “Things were going great, until I totally ruined it.”
Gwaine handed a tissue to Merlin so he could blow his nose again.
“You didn’t ruin it on your own. You should have texted me when you got in. I’d have marched over to The Devonshire and given him a piece of my mind,” Gwaine said.
“No, that would have made things even worse,” Merlin said. Merlin was sure that he looked a sorry sight to Gwaine. He slumped over the table and rested his head on his hands.
“There, there,” Gwaine said. He handed Merlin one of the two coffees from the recycled cardboard tray he had set on the table. The chocolate shavings sprinkled across the top had begun to sink into the whipped cream. “Drink up. A little caffeine and sugar will do wonders for your mood. It always helps me.”
“I just don’t understand,” Merlin said, accepting the cup and dragging it across the tabletop. “He didn’t even think to invite me to his place. He just ran off like I meant nothing to him.”
Gwaine pulled up a chair and sat next to Merlin. “Did he give off any sign that he was going to ditch you at the end of the game?”
“No, none at all. I told you, he was all over me on the train,” Merlin said, licking tentatively at the whipped cream that topped his coffee. “All.Over.Me. Christ, we were practically coming in our pants when the train pulled into State Street.”
“It doesn’t make any sense. What guy could walk away from a sure thing like that?” Gwaine asked.
“I wondered that myself, since I practically threw myself at him,” Merlin said, his lips quivering as he took another lick of whipped cream. “Right before he ran away from me.”
“Listen,” Gwaine said thoughtfully. “I’m not implying that you’re a slut, but this was only your first date with Arthur. Do you think maybe things were moving too fast for him? Could that be it?”
“I don’t think so. He didn’t even say he’d call me again. He just took off as fast as he could. I know I’ve only met him a few times, but you should have seen him when we kissed. There really was something there, something that should have kept him from jumping off at his train stop for no good reason at all,” Merlin said. He buried his head in his hands. “Oh, I am so stupid. No one will ever want me.”
“You’re not stupid,” Gwaine said. “Don’t be so hard on yourself.”
Gwaine’s patronizing tone only fueled Merlin’s anger. “I am stupid! I’m surprised you don’t think so too, considering all the time you invested in making me look good for my date. How could I have been such a fool?”
“So, I ironed your cargo shorts and helped you pick out a shirt. It was no sweat off my back,” Gwaine said, taking a sip of his coffee.
“I told him I loved cats! I’m sure that’s why he got off the train,” Merlin said. He tried to blow his nose again, using the same crumpled tissue that he held in his fist. It was no use. Gwaine handed him the whole box.
“Well, you do love cats,” Gwaine nodded. “We’re talking about you Merlin, not some eight year-old girl with a penchant for Hello Kitty. It’s not necessarily the information I would share on a first date, but there’s nothing wrong with being honest.”
“It’s all I could think of while I walked home from the T station last night. I didn’t worry about running into a group of thugs, I worried about how much I talked about cats… Oh God, I even told him I was obsessed with Gwen,” Merlin said, suddenly horrified. “Arthur wasn’t afraid of moving too fast. He was afraid I’d take him home and expect him to lap milk from a bowl or use a box of sand to take a piss in. He thinks I’m a freak who sits around watching a cat jump into boxes on YouTube.”
“Well…” Gwaine said.
Merlin glared at Gwaine, daring him to say If the shoe fits-, but the conversation was interrupted by the buzz of Merlin’s cellphone. Merlin glanced at the caller’s name and moaned, “Oh God, I can’t talk to her now.”
“Who is it?” Gwaine asked.
“My mother,” said Merlin, hitting the ignore button. “I’ll call her back later and break the news to her that I can’t even find a date for her wedding-the most important day of her life. I’m sure I’m a big disappointment to her.”
“Now you’re exaggerating,” Gwaine said, arching an eyebrow.
“Not by much,” Merlin said, slurping at his coffee.
“Well, you are exaggerating a little bit and that’s enough for me to see that you are on the road to forgetting your latest crush. Forget Arthur, and move on to the next Prince Charming. That’s my advice,” Gwaine said.
“You’re going to have to handle his deliveries,” Merlin said thoughtfully. “I’d die of embarrassment if I had to see him again.”
“I suppose so, if you think the cat thing was so horrible,” Gwaine said. “Elyan or Percival can do it if I can’t. If it’s really what you want.”
Merlin shrugged. “I was really falling for him. Even though it was only one date. I thought things were going perfectly,” Merlin said, his voice cracking. “I saved his life when he nearly got hit by a foul ball, but it meant nothing to him. He could just jump off the train and go home without even thinking about me. Why else would someone do that, unless they simply didn’t care?”
“I don’t know,” said Gwaine. “It really pisses me off too, that he let you down,” Gwaine said. He collected the empty coffee cups and tossed them into the trash.
For the rest of the day, Gwaine tried to keep Merlin’s mind off what had happened with Arthur.
He and Merlin passed the afternoon watching DVDs and playing MLB 2K12 on X-Box. Although Gwaine tried hard to take Merlin’s mind off his datefail, Merlin was relieved when Gwaine decided with a yawn that his job of tending to Merlin was done. Merlin appreciated his company, but he really needed some time alone so he could process what had happened.
After he declined Gwaine’s invitation to go to the Fritz to down his sorrows in a nightcap, Merlin gathered up the half-empty cartons of Chinese takeout they had ordered hours earlier. He consolidated what he could, stored the leftovers in the refrigerator, and threw the remnants of the packaging into the trash. The apartment seemed so quiet with Gwaine gone. Merlin supposed it had always seemed that way, ever since Cenred had left, but tonight it seemed even emptier than before. It was as if the absence of people had compounded, now that there was no longer any hope that Arthur would become his new love interest. He wished for some company to fill the lonely space in the apartment and in his heart.
Merlin went to the bathroom and splashed some cold water onto his face. His stubble had regrown almost as quickly as he had shaved it. The day after his botched date had passed quickly, thanks to Gwaine’s intervention. Time does heal all wounds, he thought to himself as he brushed his teeth. Maybe things could get back to normal next week, if he could avoid seeing Arthur.
Tomorrow was a new day and he could spend it however he liked. Maybe he’d visit Gilli at the MSPCA. He could investigate whether Gilli had any ideas about how he could illicitly adopt a pet cat to keep him company. Merlin knew the SPCA frowned on such things, but maybe Gilli would be lenient with him. Or if not, maybe Gilli knew some tricks that would help him convince his landlord that he should permit Merlin to have a cat in the apartment. It wasn’t as if he wanted to raise pit bulls. What harm could one cat do?
A cat would be the perfect companion for Merlin since it looked like he was going to be single for a good long time. He didn’t even want to look for a date for his mother’s wedding. It was an unnecessary weight that hung over him and it stressed him out. A cat would help him relax, he had read it somewhere on the Internet.
Merlin stripped off his shorts and T-shirt, leaving his boxers on to guard his nether bits against the chill of the air-conditioning. Flipping open his laptop, he checked his emails, deleting the ones that Gwaine had sent last night when he was checking up on him. There were two emails from his mother, who he would call in the morning, although he dreaded speaking to her. He promised himself that he wouldn’t mention Arthur at all.
Just when he had convinced himself that things were looking up, he noticed that Gwen’s owner had uploaded a new video to YouTube.
“Silly cat,” he said to the computer screen. “It’s all your fault that I lost my chance with Arthur.”
Merlin slid his laptop onto the futon and snuggled beneath his soft flannel sheet.
“It’s all right. I still love you,” Merlin said, apologizing to the image on his screen. Gwen scampered across the hardwood floor. He could almost make out the sounds of her tiny claws clicking above the sound of the violin that accompanied her antics. It was Chopin, Merlin believed. He recognized the sad melody from a class in music appreciation that he had taken in high school.
Gwen’s owner must have been holding something in his hand to get Gwen’s attention. Her eyes followed the unseen object from the left to the right of the screen, swaying to the notes of the music. When the music paused, Gwen hunkered down with her front paws and prepared to pounce. As the violin swelled, Gwen leaped into the air with a look of surprise on her face. Instead of the object moving further away from her, triggering a pounce, the object rolled ever closer and stopped right in front of her.
It was a baseball.
Gwen sniffed the ball curiously, then looked away.
Merlin rolled his eyes. “I don’t blame you for ignoring it,” Merlin said. “I’m sick of baseball too.”
The violin softened and Gwen reached out with a white paw to tap the ball. The ball rolled across the hardwood floor until it was no longer visible in the frame. Gwen chased after it presumably, because she bounded off the screen just as quickly as the baseball rolled away, ending the video installment.
Merlin sighed and closed his laptop. At least he could fall asleep thinking of Gwen scampering after a ball. It was better than last night’s sad memory of Arthur stepping off the train to leave him alone again.
=^.^= )
Sunday found Merlin riding the subway to the Heath Street station. From there, he could walk down Huntington Avenue to the SPCA. He peered out from beneath his summer beanie while he rode the train, a pair of Gwaine’s forgotten sunglasses hiding the truth in his eyes from the other passengers.
It was a shitty disguise.
In hindsight, Merlin thought it was ridiculous for him to assume that Arthur would be riding a subway train. Still, better safe than sorry. Even though the possibility was remote, Merlin really didn’t want to risk seeing Arthur. Not when he had embarrassed himself with his proclamations of cat love.
Gilli waved to him when he arrived at the shelter, which was busier than usual, considering Merlin usually visited during the weekdays when he was making deliveries. The sound of dogs excitedly barking to get a new master’s attention drowned out the mewls of the cats. The strange combination of animal excrement and disinfectant hung in the air. Merlin suspected it wouldn’t take long for an employee to get used to it, if he was fortunate enough to land a dream job of helping animals every day.
From behind the counter, Gilli was speaking to a couple with a small child. From what Merlin could hear, they were adopting a cat. Gilli went about the business of reviewing the paperwork with them. Merlin had seen similar transactions happen dozens of times while he visited the animal shelter.
A pair of calico cats romped in the Plexiglas-encased play area today. Merlin watched while a teenage girl spoke gently to them as she tried to get the cats to play with a feathery toy.
“What’s up?” Gilli thumped Merlin on the shoulder.
“Just stopping by for a visit,” Merlin said. “You look busy today.”
“It gets that way on the weekends,” Gilli said. “It’s good for the animals.”
The family that Gilli had been working with wandered past them and entered the dog kennel. The sounds of barking increased tenfold when they opened the door. Merlin had no interest in dogs, so he didn’t even bother to look into the noisy kennel. When the door shut behind them, the barking quieted again.
“Tell me this,” Merlin began when he had Gilli’s full attention. “If a person wanted to adopt a cat, and they rented an apartment, would you actually check to see if the landlord permitted them to have a pet?”
Gilli folded his arms across his chest and shook his head. “I can’t divulge that information.”
“Why not?” Merlin asked, his eyebrows shooting up.
“That’s an SPCA secret,” Gilli said.
“But it’s just a simple question,” Merlin said, exasperated.
“Of course we check up on it!” Gilli laughed, punching Merlin lightly on the arm. “Did you think we would just take a person’s word for it?”
“No, I suppose you can’t,” Merlin said.
“You know these animals are here because they are unwanted,” Gilli said, his voice gentle. “The last thing in the world that we want is for them to go to a home, only to be returned to us, unwanted again, because someone lied or used some other nefarious means to adopt one when they knew they weren’t supposed to have a pet. It’s traumatic for the animal.”
“It must be,” Merlin said thoughtfully. “Do you think there’s any chance of getting my landlord to change his mind about allowing pets? I mean, that happens sometimes, doesn’t it?”
“I hate to tell you this,” Gilli said, slinging an arm around Merlin’s shoulders, “but if your landlord did change the pet allowance of your apartment, I’m guessing your rent would go through the roof.”
Merlin sighed. “You must know my landlord. I’m sure that would be just the thing he’d do if he decided to allow pets.”
“Besides, don’t you have a cat already?” Gilli asked. “Why would you look for a new cat?”
“Aithusa,” Merlin said. “My mother got him for me when I finished elementary school. I had begged her for a pet. He’s older now and set in his ways. He loves to hunt and chase insects in the fields behind my mother’s house. Even if I could have a pet in my apartment, it would be unfair to expect him to adjust to living indoors.”
“I see,” Gilli said thoughtfully. “You could always move back home with your mother.”
Merlin laughed. “I don’t think so. She fusses enough over me now. I’d never have a moment to myself if I lived with her, if you know what I mean. Besides, she’s about to get married. I’d like her to enjoy her life with her new husband.”
“Look, if you think you might want a cat somewhere down the line, why not look for a new apartment? Maybe find a roommate so you can afford a higher rent. You could find a place that might have fewer restrictions. It’s worth a try,” Gilli said.
“That’s a good idea,” Merlin said. He had been thinking about finding a new place since Cenred left, but he couldn’t muster the energy to consider moving from the apartment they had shared. Maybe Gilli’s idea was just the shove Merlin needed to get out of his post-relationship funk.
“I have a feeling that your catless days are about to end, and soon. You’re more motivated than most people. Tell you what,” Gilli said, “let me get you an application to adopt a cat. You can fill it out and leave the address part blank. When you find a place that will allow a cat, all you’d need to do is fill in your new address.”
“I can do that?” Merlin asked.
“People do it all the time,” Gilli said. “Come on, the next Gwen is waiting to go home with you.”
Merlin followed Gilli over to the counter where Gilli handed him a two-page triplicate form.
“You’re sure this isn’t illegal, or anything?” Merlin asked.
“Trust me,” Gilli said, handing Merlin a pen. “When you’re ready to adopt a cat, you’ll be glad you got the red tape out of the way ahead of time.”
“Is it true that you’ll need me to give you a blood sample and promise you my first born?” Merlin asked, chuckling.
“Along with FaceBook links, your credit report, references, complete sexual history, and your resume,” Gilli said.
Merlin’s eyes went wide.
“I’m just kidding… about the credit report,” Gilli said with a wink.
Merlin bit down on the pen cap to keep himself from blushing at Gilli’s feeble attempt at flirting. He looked down at the form in front of him and began to fill in the blanks. Just then, the father of the family who Gilli had been speaking to earlier approached the counter. “Thanks for everything,” the man said, grasping Gilli’s arm. His other hand held a carrier containing a calico cat.
“No problem,” said Gilli, waving to the mother and child. “I’m sure Penelope will be happy to be back at home.”
“She hates riding in the car, but thanks for checking her over,” the man said.
“Sorry for the inconvenience,” Gilli said.
A few moments after the family left, Merlin looked up from his paperwork. “Stray?” he asked.
“What’s that?” Gilli asked.
“Was it a stray getting reclaimed by her owner?” Merlin asked.
“Oh, no, it was an adoption,” Gilli said matter-of-factly. “A transfer of ownership, actually.”
“What does that mean?” Merlin asked, curious.
“Well, you see, that man’s father recently died. A few years before he died, he had adopted a cat from us. As you’ll notice in the fine print when you get to the bottom of our adoption contract, you’re not signing up to own a pet,” Gilli said, motioning to Merlin’s paperwork. “You’re simply adopting one. If anything happens to you, we get the cat back.”
“Why would you want it back?” Merlin asked. “The goal here is to empty your place of animals, isn’t it?”
Gilli sighed. “It’s our obligation to the animal to make sure it gets a good permanent home,” Gilli said, as if he just stated the most logical thing in the world.
“So you’re telling me that when I get a cat from you, I don’t own it, and you get it back if I can’t keep it?” Merlin asked.
“That’s right. When you adopt a pet, we retain ownership of the animal. You promise to keep and care for the pet for the rest of its life. You can’t just give it away when you grow tired of cleaning up after it or if you move away and can’t take it… or if you die,” Gilli said.
“So you took this dead guy’s cat away from his family? That’s the stupidest thing I ever heard of,” Merlin said.
“Right. But technically, it was never the dead guy’s cat. It’s always our cat,” Gilli said.
“But you let his family keep it,” Merlin said.
“In this case, they wanted to keep the cat, so they brought the animal in for us to check it out and then they filled out the adoption paperwork. It’s mostly a formality, but that’s what must be done,” Gilli said.
“I think I get it,” Merlin said. “Although it sounds like it makes more work for you.”
“Look, if we didn’t do it that way, an adopter could simply give one of our pets away to whoever they wanted. How would it be if they gave it to a research laboratory or someone who trains dogs to fight or someone who was convicted of animal cruelty?” Gilli asked.
“I guess I can see your point,” Merlin said.
“If someone adopts a pet from us, we have the right and an obligation to take it back if it doesn’t work out for whatever reason. We’re charged with protecting the animal’s welfare. We’re the SPCA, for God’s sake!” Gilli said.
Merlin smiled. “I guess it is true what they say about you wanting a person’s first born before you’ll let them adopt a pet.”
“Well, we can’t let our adoptive families take it upon themselves to place our pets in a new home without our approval. It would defeat the purpose of screening people for a good home in the first place,” Gilli said tapping his finger on Merlin’s application. “Speaking of which, I need to go help some of these customers.”
“It’s really busy today,” Merlin said, observing the clusters of people waiting for assistance.
“Hey,” Gilli said, smacking Merlin on the arm. “Why don’t you volunteer for us?”
“What?” Merlin asked.
“We always need volunteers, especially on the weekends when regular staff are so busy with adoptions. Those litterboxes don’t get scooped all by themselves, you know,” Gilli said.
Merlin grinned. “I suppose could do that,” he said.
“That would be great,” Gilli said. “Even a couple hours of your time would help us out.”
“Okay,” Merlin said. He was thrilled to have the chance to help the homeless cats. “How about next Saturday?”
“That would be perfect. If you could come by a couple hours before we close, that’s when I need the most help putting this place back together,” Gilli said, waving his hands around at the misplaced cat toys and informational leaflets that were strewn on the counter.
“I’ll be here,” Merlin said.
“Awesome,” Gilli said. “Now, finish filling this out and start looking for a roommate and a new apartment. If you’re volunteering here, it won’t be long until you find the perfect cat for you.”
“Thanks, Gilli. I think I will,” Merlin said, turning his attention back to his paperwork, his spirit renewed by the hope of adopting a cat someday soon.
=^.^= )
“Go ahead and ask her,” Gwaine said as he and Merlin emerged into the cool air of Freya’s office. “Just in case.”
“Ask me what? And step away from that sensor, you’re letting all the heat in,” Freya said.
Monday promised to be another scorcher of a day. On their walk to work, Merlin and Gwaine had already planned to meet somewhere indoors for lunch, hoping to get out of the sun for a half-hour or so.
The sliding glass door closed behind Merlin’s back, blocking the heat from outside. Percival and Elyan already had their manifests in front of them. They scanned their lists more slowly than usual, no doubt hoping to take advantage of the air-conditioned comfort for as long as possible before hitting the road.
“First, Merlin wants to know if he has any messages this morning,” Gwaine said. “And then, he might have a request.”
Merlin snagged his messenger bag off the sorting table and pulled the manifest sheet from its pocket. His eyes scanned the addresses on the paperwork, making sure there were no deliveries scheduled for The Devonshire on his route.
“What’s wrong with Merlin? He doesn’t talk anymore?” Freya asked. She drummed her fingernails on her desk waiting for an answer.
Merlin cleared his throat before scanning his manifest for a second time, just to be certain.
The clicking of Freya’s nails on her desk told Merlin this was not going to be a good day to make demands of her. Elyan rolled his eyes at Freya when she wasn’t looking, while Percival pretended to ignore Freya’s tapping.
“Good,” Merlin said, satisfied that a morning visit to The Devonshire was not on the schedule. “You can’t send me to The Devonshire again, Freya.”
“Fantastic,” Freya said. “What have you done now, Emrys?”
The gravity of what happened to him on Friday night was brought sharply into focus again, now that Merlin was back at work. No longer alone in his apartment, he had no videos of Gwen or roommate searches on Craigslist to distract him from reality.
“They’ll find out sooner or later,” Gwaine said, nudging Merlin’s shoulder.
Merlin did his best to ignore Gwaine’s prodding so he could give the impression of taking charge of his own problem.
“You can’t send me there, even if a call comes in requesting me specifically,” Merlin told Freya. He replaced the manifest in the pocket of his messenger bag and slipped it over his head.
“What do you mean?” Percival asked. “You were practically begging Freya to send you to The Devonshire last week.”
Merlin sighed and closed his eyes, as if the action would erase the stares he got from his fellow messengers. He didn’t expect their sympathy, but his personal life was really none of their business. He opened his eyes to glare at Gwaine, who simply shrugged at him.
“I can only imagine,” Freya said. “As if my Monday mornings weren’t busy enough. Let me guess-now I have to deal with you clogging up the works by requesting special treatment. And something tells me that your Prince Charming will never have another pick-up or delivery for us again.”
“Sorry, Freya,” Merlin said. “We had a bit of a falling out, you might say.”
“Don’t be so easy on him, Merlin,” Gwaine said, grabbing his own messenger bag from Freya. “He ditched you.”
“Oh sweetie,” Freya said, cupping Merlin’s chin in her palm from across her desk. “And now you don’t want to see him again? I feel awful for you, really I do. But you do realize this is a place of business, don’t you?”
Merlin pushed her hand away. “I’m just asking you to keep him off my route-and his sister, too. It shouldn’t be too difficult. There are other messengers who work here,” Merlin said, glancing around the office in the hopes of getting some support from his co-workers.
“He must be something really special to make you act like such a girl,” Elyan said with a shake of his head.
“I don’t get it,” Leon said, poking his head in from the garage. “If he ditched you, why do you think he’d be calling you here?”
“Mmmm… that’s a good point,” Freya said. “I bet he only has Kilgharrah Kourier’s number for Merlin. Am I right?”
Merlin cringed.
“Wait a minute. You didn’t give him your cellphone number?” Gwaine asked, gaping speechlessly.
Merlin wilted under Freya’s gaze.
“That’s why I’ve got this message for you. It came in at eight o’clock Sunday morning-from Arthur Pendragon,” Freya tore the message from her notepad and handed it to Merlin.
“What does it say?” Gwaine asked.
“Merlin, call me,” Freya said. “And he leaves his phone number. How efficient.”
“I’m not calling him,” Merlin protested, crumbling the paper into his pocket. “He sent the message on Sunday? He left me on Friday night without a single word to wrap things up or make plans for another date.”
“He basically ran away,” Gwaine said, nodding to Freya in confirmation, which earned him a scowl from Merlin.
“He ran away?” Percival asked.
“It’s a girl thing,” Gwaine said.
Merlin cringed. “Shut up, Gwaine! I’d appreciate everyone minding their own business.” Turning to Freya, he added, “And if you would be so kind as to assign any future deliveries to Gwaine, I’m sure he’ll take care of them.”
Merlin hitched his messenger bag onto his hip and stormed past Leon.
“Don’t worry, Merlin. There are other fish in the sea,” Leon said, following behind him.
Merlin found his bike on the rack, a tag affixed to the handlebars, verifying that Leon had tuned it up over the weekend.
“I know,” Merlin said. “It’s just going to take me awhile.”
Merlin snapped the chinstrap buckle of his helmet into place and rode out the door.
He checked his manifest and wove through the morning traffic to his first stop on Tremont Street.
When he stepped through the door of the financial planner, he barely waved to the secretary who usually offered him a refill of coffee for his travel thermos. Instead, he rode off to his next stop, closer to Downtown Crossing. From the intersection of Tremont and Winter Streets, he could see the upper floors of his apartment building, nestled into the skyline like a puzzle piece. He pedaled past Winter Street and entered Chinatown, where it was much too early for him to be stopping for a snack of sticky rice or turnip cakes. He picked up Mr. Tan’s payroll to drop at the accountant later in the morning.
Merlin was picking up speed, pumping hard on the uphill when the sound of sirens blared through the hazy morning air. He jumped the curb and touched a foot to the sidewalk. Despite the urgency of the ambulance’s horns, most drivers merely tapped on their brakes. The cars had nowhere to go, even if their drivers tried to inch their way to the side of the road. Merlin took a swig from his water bottle and yawned, wishing he had stopped for more coffee. The weekend had been draining for him, and he spent both nights tossing and turning beneath the sheets.
A call came in from Freya who took a moment to ask how his morning was going, before she explained that she needed him to make a pick up at Dr. Disler’s. He was a psychiatrist in the South End who often needed documents delivered to Beth Israel Hospital. Maybe he could check into getting some psychiatric help while he was there-at a discount, Merlin told Freya, who seemed to be amused by the idea. The doc would probably laugh Merlin right out of the office when he learned that Merlin was so obsessed with cats that it had ruined his chances for a relationship with Arthur.
He chained his bike to the wrought iron railing at the brownstone and planned a route for his next half-dozen stops in his head. He’d avoid Fenway at all costs, even if it meant jumbling Freya’s meticulously organized manifest. There was no need to torture himself with the memory of his nearly perfect date with Arthur. At the last minute, he decided against describing his sad tale of woe to the psychiatrist’s office manager, who handed him the documents for the hospital. He joined her for a quick cup of tea, which satisfied his craving for caffeine in the late morning. He left the office and pedaled down the sidewalk of the tree-lined street, flanked by million-dollar condos.
He considered stopping at the MSPCA on his way to Coolidge Corner so he could pick Gilli’s brain on the best way to narrow down potential roommates on Craigslist. But when he got to the intersection, he decided to leave that task for later. He wasn’t in any mood to deal with Gilli’s flirting. It would only remind him of what he had lost with Arthur. He could always stop by later in the week, if he still thought Gilli’s advice could be useful.
On the long straightaway of Huntington Avenue, Merlin couldn’t get Arthur and his sudden departure from the train out of his mind. He slid his hand into his pocket and felt for the crumpled paper with the message Freya had given him. He was almost positive that the mention of cats drove Arthur away. When he couldn’t be completely satisfied with that, he beat himself up a little more by deciding that if not for his obsession with Gwen, it was the groping and kissing that drove Arthur away. Maybe it was all a big mistake.
Merlin couldn’t bring himself to call Arthur. He probably only wanted to officially dump Merlin anyway. No, it was best to leave their failed date with an ambiguous ending. Besides, Merlin was too angry about what happened. After all he went through to make certain their date was perfect, from ironing his clothes, to shaving, to saving Arthur’s life-he couldn’t do any better than that on a date. And if that wasn’t good enough for a second date with Arthur, then Merlin would never be good enough. He wished he hadn’t been so excited in the first place. The sheer dizzying anticipation of spending the night with Arthur, especially when everything had been going so well, was what made Arthur’s sudden departure from the train sting so badly.
Then, there was still the matter of finding a date for his mother’s wedding. If worse came to worst, he could dress Gwaine in a tux and bring him along, he supposed. God knows Gwaine owed him one for blabbing Merlin’s business to the whole office.
When he got to Beth Israel, he traded the psych documents for a chilly insulated container that was going to Boston Children’s Hospital, a mere quarter of a mile away. They never told him what the insulated packages contained. He only knew they were important. Merlin pedaled hard, imagining that the Styrofoam-encased package that rode on his handlebars might be a heart that would replace some unfortunate broken one. In the lobby, he caught his breath after handing off the package to the waiting orderly. He wished his own broken heart could be replaced as easily, with a spin down a connecting alleyway between the hospitals.
The afternoon brought more of the same. Day after day, the week passed much like any other week. He made his deliveries by day, grumbling at Gwaine whenever he got the chance. By night, when he returned to his lonely apartment, he searched the Internet for a new place to live. When he became convinced that nearly everyone advertising for a roommate on Craigslist had spent time in prison at some point in their lives, he turned to watching Gwen on YouTube. If only Merlin’s days were as simple as Gwen and her owner’s. His only care in the world would be choosing the angle from which to film his cat jumping into a box. What a life.
By the time Friday afternoon came, Merlin was looking forward to shutting himself in his apartment where he wouldn’t have to deal with customers or co-workers for two blissful days. He hoped more downtime might pull him out of his funk. He’d fill the days with X-Box and baseball, with free skunky beer and Craigslist, and more Gwen, always more Gwen… He rode through the doors of Kilgharrah Kourier and tossed his empty messenger bag on Freya’s sorting table.
“Just a minute,” Freya said into the phone. “Merlin, wait up, I have another delivery for you.”
Merlin blew out a breath. It was already past quitting time and he wanted nothing more than to go home and sulk. He waited while Freya finished her call.
“It’s urgent,” Freya said, handing him an envelope. “Customer by the name of Annis, thirty-nine eleven at The Devonshire.”
“Freya,” Merlin whined. “You know I can’t go there. Send Gwaine.”
“Gwaine can’t go. That was just him on the phone. He got doored on Beacon Street and he’s in an ambulance on his way to the hospital,” Freya said.
“Oh my God, is he alright?” Merlin quickly traded whatever concerns he had about The Devonshire for his friend’s well-being.
Freya raised her palm to him. “He says he’s fine. The ambulance is just a precaution. Leon is there picking up the bike and Elyan is finishing Gwaine’s deliveries.”
Merlin wondered where Percival was, but he figured he’d lose all Freya’s respect if he were to ask if maybe he could make the delivery instead. Fortunately, Freya was too quick with her directions.
“She’s on a completely different floor than Prince Charming,” Freya said. “Go!”
Merlin shoved the envelope into his messenger bag and rode out the door.
He pedaled up the street to The Devonshire. Knowing his luck, he’d run into Arthur. It had been that kind of week. Arthur had called again on Monday and once on Tuesday, Freya told him, but by Wednesday, he must have given up. Merlin was relieved. He had too many other things to think about besides wondering why someone would be kissing him one minute and then running away at the mere mention of a cat. He didn’t need that kind of boyfriend. Thinking about his date with Arthur only made him angry now.
Merlin chained his bike to the light pole. He tried to keep his head down while his eyes scanned the windows into the lobby, just in case a certain former client happened to be passing through on his way to the elevator.
The usual doorman let him in and buzzed thirty-nine eleven. Ms. Annis gave the okay and Merlin joined several other people in the elevator, pressing the button for the thirty-ninth floor.
Merlin squeezed his way into the back corner of the elevator. He was hot and sweaty from riding all day and he figured he’d give The Devonshire’s residents a break. He took off his gloves and shoved them into the back pocket of his Lycra biking shirt.
At the fourteenth floor, two people exited the car, which freed up more room for Merlin and the remaining people who, Merlin estimated from their business suits, were returning home from a day at the office. Another passenger got off at twenty-seven and Merlin began to panic. What if the elevator didn’t stop at thirty-nine and continued on to forty instead? He took a deep breath and pressed the number thirty-nine again for good measure, even though that button was already illuminated.
He breathed a sigh of relief when the elevator doors opened at the thirty-ninth floor. His relief was short-lived, however, because who stood there, bouncing on his heels in the plush carpeting, but Arthur Pendragon himself.
=^.^= )
Author: gwylliondream
Genre: Modern au
Pairing: Arthur/Merlin
Rating: NC-17
Words: 58,347
Author’s Notes: I Am Gwen was written for paperlegends and as a kinkme_merlin fill for this prompt.
Disclaimer: I did not create these characters. No disrespect intended. No profit desired, only muses.
Comments: Comments are welcome anytime! Thanks so much for reading!
“And that was all he said?” Gwaine dug at the plastic seal on a new box of Kleenexes, tearing the film off so a clean white tissue popped out from the top.
Merlin felt awful. He didn’t mean for Gwaine to give up his Saturday to watch him mope around his apartment, but being a good friend, Gwaine insisted that he bring coffee and bagels when he learned that Merlin had spent the night alone. The box of Kleenexes must have been an afterthought.
“He said he had to go back to his apartment,” Merlin said. “Things were going great, until I totally ruined it.”
Gwaine handed a tissue to Merlin so he could blow his nose again.
“You didn’t ruin it on your own. You should have texted me when you got in. I’d have marched over to The Devonshire and given him a piece of my mind,” Gwaine said.
“No, that would have made things even worse,” Merlin said. Merlin was sure that he looked a sorry sight to Gwaine. He slumped over the table and rested his head on his hands.
“There, there,” Gwaine said. He handed Merlin one of the two coffees from the recycled cardboard tray he had set on the table. The chocolate shavings sprinkled across the top had begun to sink into the whipped cream. “Drink up. A little caffeine and sugar will do wonders for your mood. It always helps me.”
“I just don’t understand,” Merlin said, accepting the cup and dragging it across the tabletop. “He didn’t even think to invite me to his place. He just ran off like I meant nothing to him.”
Gwaine pulled up a chair and sat next to Merlin. “Did he give off any sign that he was going to ditch you at the end of the game?”
“No, none at all. I told you, he was all over me on the train,” Merlin said, licking tentatively at the whipped cream that topped his coffee. “All.Over.Me. Christ, we were practically coming in our pants when the train pulled into State Street.”
“It doesn’t make any sense. What guy could walk away from a sure thing like that?” Gwaine asked.
“I wondered that myself, since I practically threw myself at him,” Merlin said, his lips quivering as he took another lick of whipped cream. “Right before he ran away from me.”
“Listen,” Gwaine said thoughtfully. “I’m not implying that you’re a slut, but this was only your first date with Arthur. Do you think maybe things were moving too fast for him? Could that be it?”
“I don’t think so. He didn’t even say he’d call me again. He just took off as fast as he could. I know I’ve only met him a few times, but you should have seen him when we kissed. There really was something there, something that should have kept him from jumping off at his train stop for no good reason at all,” Merlin said. He buried his head in his hands. “Oh, I am so stupid. No one will ever want me.”
“You’re not stupid,” Gwaine said. “Don’t be so hard on yourself.”
Gwaine’s patronizing tone only fueled Merlin’s anger. “I am stupid! I’m surprised you don’t think so too, considering all the time you invested in making me look good for my date. How could I have been such a fool?”
“So, I ironed your cargo shorts and helped you pick out a shirt. It was no sweat off my back,” Gwaine said, taking a sip of his coffee.
“I told him I loved cats! I’m sure that’s why he got off the train,” Merlin said. He tried to blow his nose again, using the same crumpled tissue that he held in his fist. It was no use. Gwaine handed him the whole box.
“Well, you do love cats,” Gwaine nodded. “We’re talking about you Merlin, not some eight year-old girl with a penchant for Hello Kitty. It’s not necessarily the information I would share on a first date, but there’s nothing wrong with being honest.”
“It’s all I could think of while I walked home from the T station last night. I didn’t worry about running into a group of thugs, I worried about how much I talked about cats… Oh God, I even told him I was obsessed with Gwen,” Merlin said, suddenly horrified. “Arthur wasn’t afraid of moving too fast. He was afraid I’d take him home and expect him to lap milk from a bowl or use a box of sand to take a piss in. He thinks I’m a freak who sits around watching a cat jump into boxes on YouTube.”
“Well…” Gwaine said.
Merlin glared at Gwaine, daring him to say If the shoe fits-, but the conversation was interrupted by the buzz of Merlin’s cellphone. Merlin glanced at the caller’s name and moaned, “Oh God, I can’t talk to her now.”
“Who is it?” Gwaine asked.
“My mother,” said Merlin, hitting the ignore button. “I’ll call her back later and break the news to her that I can’t even find a date for her wedding-the most important day of her life. I’m sure I’m a big disappointment to her.”
“Now you’re exaggerating,” Gwaine said, arching an eyebrow.
“Not by much,” Merlin said, slurping at his coffee.
“Well, you are exaggerating a little bit and that’s enough for me to see that you are on the road to forgetting your latest crush. Forget Arthur, and move on to the next Prince Charming. That’s my advice,” Gwaine said.
“You’re going to have to handle his deliveries,” Merlin said thoughtfully. “I’d die of embarrassment if I had to see him again.”
“I suppose so, if you think the cat thing was so horrible,” Gwaine said. “Elyan or Percival can do it if I can’t. If it’s really what you want.”
Merlin shrugged. “I was really falling for him. Even though it was only one date. I thought things were going perfectly,” Merlin said, his voice cracking. “I saved his life when he nearly got hit by a foul ball, but it meant nothing to him. He could just jump off the train and go home without even thinking about me. Why else would someone do that, unless they simply didn’t care?”
“I don’t know,” said Gwaine. “It really pisses me off too, that he let you down,” Gwaine said. He collected the empty coffee cups and tossed them into the trash.
For the rest of the day, Gwaine tried to keep Merlin’s mind off what had happened with Arthur.
He and Merlin passed the afternoon watching DVDs and playing MLB 2K12 on X-Box. Although Gwaine tried hard to take Merlin’s mind off his datefail, Merlin was relieved when Gwaine decided with a yawn that his job of tending to Merlin was done. Merlin appreciated his company, but he really needed some time alone so he could process what had happened.
After he declined Gwaine’s invitation to go to the Fritz to down his sorrows in a nightcap, Merlin gathered up the half-empty cartons of Chinese takeout they had ordered hours earlier. He consolidated what he could, stored the leftovers in the refrigerator, and threw the remnants of the packaging into the trash. The apartment seemed so quiet with Gwaine gone. Merlin supposed it had always seemed that way, ever since Cenred had left, but tonight it seemed even emptier than before. It was as if the absence of people had compounded, now that there was no longer any hope that Arthur would become his new love interest. He wished for some company to fill the lonely space in the apartment and in his heart.
Merlin went to the bathroom and splashed some cold water onto his face. His stubble had regrown almost as quickly as he had shaved it. The day after his botched date had passed quickly, thanks to Gwaine’s intervention. Time does heal all wounds, he thought to himself as he brushed his teeth. Maybe things could get back to normal next week, if he could avoid seeing Arthur.
Tomorrow was a new day and he could spend it however he liked. Maybe he’d visit Gilli at the MSPCA. He could investigate whether Gilli had any ideas about how he could illicitly adopt a pet cat to keep him company. Merlin knew the SPCA frowned on such things, but maybe Gilli would be lenient with him. Or if not, maybe Gilli knew some tricks that would help him convince his landlord that he should permit Merlin to have a cat in the apartment. It wasn’t as if he wanted to raise pit bulls. What harm could one cat do?
A cat would be the perfect companion for Merlin since it looked like he was going to be single for a good long time. He didn’t even want to look for a date for his mother’s wedding. It was an unnecessary weight that hung over him and it stressed him out. A cat would help him relax, he had read it somewhere on the Internet.
Merlin stripped off his shorts and T-shirt, leaving his boxers on to guard his nether bits against the chill of the air-conditioning. Flipping open his laptop, he checked his emails, deleting the ones that Gwaine had sent last night when he was checking up on him. There were two emails from his mother, who he would call in the morning, although he dreaded speaking to her. He promised himself that he wouldn’t mention Arthur at all.
Just when he had convinced himself that things were looking up, he noticed that Gwen’s owner had uploaded a new video to YouTube.
“Silly cat,” he said to the computer screen. “It’s all your fault that I lost my chance with Arthur.”
Merlin slid his laptop onto the futon and snuggled beneath his soft flannel sheet.
“It’s all right. I still love you,” Merlin said, apologizing to the image on his screen. Gwen scampered across the hardwood floor. He could almost make out the sounds of her tiny claws clicking above the sound of the violin that accompanied her antics. It was Chopin, Merlin believed. He recognized the sad melody from a class in music appreciation that he had taken in high school.
Gwen’s owner must have been holding something in his hand to get Gwen’s attention. Her eyes followed the unseen object from the left to the right of the screen, swaying to the notes of the music. When the music paused, Gwen hunkered down with her front paws and prepared to pounce. As the violin swelled, Gwen leaped into the air with a look of surprise on her face. Instead of the object moving further away from her, triggering a pounce, the object rolled ever closer and stopped right in front of her.
It was a baseball.
Gwen sniffed the ball curiously, then looked away.
Merlin rolled his eyes. “I don’t blame you for ignoring it,” Merlin said. “I’m sick of baseball too.”
The violin softened and Gwen reached out with a white paw to tap the ball. The ball rolled across the hardwood floor until it was no longer visible in the frame. Gwen chased after it presumably, because she bounded off the screen just as quickly as the baseball rolled away, ending the video installment.
Merlin sighed and closed his laptop. At least he could fall asleep thinking of Gwen scampering after a ball. It was better than last night’s sad memory of Arthur stepping off the train to leave him alone again.
=^.^= )
Sunday found Merlin riding the subway to the Heath Street station. From there, he could walk down Huntington Avenue to the SPCA. He peered out from beneath his summer beanie while he rode the train, a pair of Gwaine’s forgotten sunglasses hiding the truth in his eyes from the other passengers.
It was a shitty disguise.
In hindsight, Merlin thought it was ridiculous for him to assume that Arthur would be riding a subway train. Still, better safe than sorry. Even though the possibility was remote, Merlin really didn’t want to risk seeing Arthur. Not when he had embarrassed himself with his proclamations of cat love.
Gilli waved to him when he arrived at the shelter, which was busier than usual, considering Merlin usually visited during the weekdays when he was making deliveries. The sound of dogs excitedly barking to get a new master’s attention drowned out the mewls of the cats. The strange combination of animal excrement and disinfectant hung in the air. Merlin suspected it wouldn’t take long for an employee to get used to it, if he was fortunate enough to land a dream job of helping animals every day.
From behind the counter, Gilli was speaking to a couple with a small child. From what Merlin could hear, they were adopting a cat. Gilli went about the business of reviewing the paperwork with them. Merlin had seen similar transactions happen dozens of times while he visited the animal shelter.
A pair of calico cats romped in the Plexiglas-encased play area today. Merlin watched while a teenage girl spoke gently to them as she tried to get the cats to play with a feathery toy.
“What’s up?” Gilli thumped Merlin on the shoulder.
“Just stopping by for a visit,” Merlin said. “You look busy today.”
“It gets that way on the weekends,” Gilli said. “It’s good for the animals.”
The family that Gilli had been working with wandered past them and entered the dog kennel. The sounds of barking increased tenfold when they opened the door. Merlin had no interest in dogs, so he didn’t even bother to look into the noisy kennel. When the door shut behind them, the barking quieted again.
“Tell me this,” Merlin began when he had Gilli’s full attention. “If a person wanted to adopt a cat, and they rented an apartment, would you actually check to see if the landlord permitted them to have a pet?”
Gilli folded his arms across his chest and shook his head. “I can’t divulge that information.”
“Why not?” Merlin asked, his eyebrows shooting up.
“That’s an SPCA secret,” Gilli said.
“But it’s just a simple question,” Merlin said, exasperated.
“Of course we check up on it!” Gilli laughed, punching Merlin lightly on the arm. “Did you think we would just take a person’s word for it?”
“No, I suppose you can’t,” Merlin said.
“You know these animals are here because they are unwanted,” Gilli said, his voice gentle. “The last thing in the world that we want is for them to go to a home, only to be returned to us, unwanted again, because someone lied or used some other nefarious means to adopt one when they knew they weren’t supposed to have a pet. It’s traumatic for the animal.”
“It must be,” Merlin said thoughtfully. “Do you think there’s any chance of getting my landlord to change his mind about allowing pets? I mean, that happens sometimes, doesn’t it?”
“I hate to tell you this,” Gilli said, slinging an arm around Merlin’s shoulders, “but if your landlord did change the pet allowance of your apartment, I’m guessing your rent would go through the roof.”
Merlin sighed. “You must know my landlord. I’m sure that would be just the thing he’d do if he decided to allow pets.”
“Besides, don’t you have a cat already?” Gilli asked. “Why would you look for a new cat?”
“Aithusa,” Merlin said. “My mother got him for me when I finished elementary school. I had begged her for a pet. He’s older now and set in his ways. He loves to hunt and chase insects in the fields behind my mother’s house. Even if I could have a pet in my apartment, it would be unfair to expect him to adjust to living indoors.”
“I see,” Gilli said thoughtfully. “You could always move back home with your mother.”
Merlin laughed. “I don’t think so. She fusses enough over me now. I’d never have a moment to myself if I lived with her, if you know what I mean. Besides, she’s about to get married. I’d like her to enjoy her life with her new husband.”
“Look, if you think you might want a cat somewhere down the line, why not look for a new apartment? Maybe find a roommate so you can afford a higher rent. You could find a place that might have fewer restrictions. It’s worth a try,” Gilli said.
“That’s a good idea,” Merlin said. He had been thinking about finding a new place since Cenred left, but he couldn’t muster the energy to consider moving from the apartment they had shared. Maybe Gilli’s idea was just the shove Merlin needed to get out of his post-relationship funk.
“I have a feeling that your catless days are about to end, and soon. You’re more motivated than most people. Tell you what,” Gilli said, “let me get you an application to adopt a cat. You can fill it out and leave the address part blank. When you find a place that will allow a cat, all you’d need to do is fill in your new address.”
“I can do that?” Merlin asked.
“People do it all the time,” Gilli said. “Come on, the next Gwen is waiting to go home with you.”
Merlin followed Gilli over to the counter where Gilli handed him a two-page triplicate form.
“You’re sure this isn’t illegal, or anything?” Merlin asked.
“Trust me,” Gilli said, handing Merlin a pen. “When you’re ready to adopt a cat, you’ll be glad you got the red tape out of the way ahead of time.”
“Is it true that you’ll need me to give you a blood sample and promise you my first born?” Merlin asked, chuckling.
“Along with FaceBook links, your credit report, references, complete sexual history, and your resume,” Gilli said.
Merlin’s eyes went wide.
“I’m just kidding… about the credit report,” Gilli said with a wink.
Merlin bit down on the pen cap to keep himself from blushing at Gilli’s feeble attempt at flirting. He looked down at the form in front of him and began to fill in the blanks. Just then, the father of the family who Gilli had been speaking to earlier approached the counter. “Thanks for everything,” the man said, grasping Gilli’s arm. His other hand held a carrier containing a calico cat.
“No problem,” said Gilli, waving to the mother and child. “I’m sure Penelope will be happy to be back at home.”
“She hates riding in the car, but thanks for checking her over,” the man said.
“Sorry for the inconvenience,” Gilli said.
A few moments after the family left, Merlin looked up from his paperwork. “Stray?” he asked.
“What’s that?” Gilli asked.
“Was it a stray getting reclaimed by her owner?” Merlin asked.
“Oh, no, it was an adoption,” Gilli said matter-of-factly. “A transfer of ownership, actually.”
“What does that mean?” Merlin asked, curious.
“Well, you see, that man’s father recently died. A few years before he died, he had adopted a cat from us. As you’ll notice in the fine print when you get to the bottom of our adoption contract, you’re not signing up to own a pet,” Gilli said, motioning to Merlin’s paperwork. “You’re simply adopting one. If anything happens to you, we get the cat back.”
“Why would you want it back?” Merlin asked. “The goal here is to empty your place of animals, isn’t it?”
Gilli sighed. “It’s our obligation to the animal to make sure it gets a good permanent home,” Gilli said, as if he just stated the most logical thing in the world.
“So you’re telling me that when I get a cat from you, I don’t own it, and you get it back if I can’t keep it?” Merlin asked.
“That’s right. When you adopt a pet, we retain ownership of the animal. You promise to keep and care for the pet for the rest of its life. You can’t just give it away when you grow tired of cleaning up after it or if you move away and can’t take it… or if you die,” Gilli said.
“So you took this dead guy’s cat away from his family? That’s the stupidest thing I ever heard of,” Merlin said.
“Right. But technically, it was never the dead guy’s cat. It’s always our cat,” Gilli said.
“But you let his family keep it,” Merlin said.
“In this case, they wanted to keep the cat, so they brought the animal in for us to check it out and then they filled out the adoption paperwork. It’s mostly a formality, but that’s what must be done,” Gilli said.
“I think I get it,” Merlin said. “Although it sounds like it makes more work for you.”
“Look, if we didn’t do it that way, an adopter could simply give one of our pets away to whoever they wanted. How would it be if they gave it to a research laboratory or someone who trains dogs to fight or someone who was convicted of animal cruelty?” Gilli asked.
“I guess I can see your point,” Merlin said.
“If someone adopts a pet from us, we have the right and an obligation to take it back if it doesn’t work out for whatever reason. We’re charged with protecting the animal’s welfare. We’re the SPCA, for God’s sake!” Gilli said.
Merlin smiled. “I guess it is true what they say about you wanting a person’s first born before you’ll let them adopt a pet.”
“Well, we can’t let our adoptive families take it upon themselves to place our pets in a new home without our approval. It would defeat the purpose of screening people for a good home in the first place,” Gilli said tapping his finger on Merlin’s application. “Speaking of which, I need to go help some of these customers.”
“It’s really busy today,” Merlin said, observing the clusters of people waiting for assistance.
“Hey,” Gilli said, smacking Merlin on the arm. “Why don’t you volunteer for us?”
“What?” Merlin asked.
“We always need volunteers, especially on the weekends when regular staff are so busy with adoptions. Those litterboxes don’t get scooped all by themselves, you know,” Gilli said.
Merlin grinned. “I suppose could do that,” he said.
“That would be great,” Gilli said. “Even a couple hours of your time would help us out.”
“Okay,” Merlin said. He was thrilled to have the chance to help the homeless cats. “How about next Saturday?”
“That would be perfect. If you could come by a couple hours before we close, that’s when I need the most help putting this place back together,” Gilli said, waving his hands around at the misplaced cat toys and informational leaflets that were strewn on the counter.
“I’ll be here,” Merlin said.
“Awesome,” Gilli said. “Now, finish filling this out and start looking for a roommate and a new apartment. If you’re volunteering here, it won’t be long until you find the perfect cat for you.”
“Thanks, Gilli. I think I will,” Merlin said, turning his attention back to his paperwork, his spirit renewed by the hope of adopting a cat someday soon.
=^.^= )
“Go ahead and ask her,” Gwaine said as he and Merlin emerged into the cool air of Freya’s office. “Just in case.”
“Ask me what? And step away from that sensor, you’re letting all the heat in,” Freya said.
Monday promised to be another scorcher of a day. On their walk to work, Merlin and Gwaine had already planned to meet somewhere indoors for lunch, hoping to get out of the sun for a half-hour or so.
The sliding glass door closed behind Merlin’s back, blocking the heat from outside. Percival and Elyan already had their manifests in front of them. They scanned their lists more slowly than usual, no doubt hoping to take advantage of the air-conditioned comfort for as long as possible before hitting the road.
“First, Merlin wants to know if he has any messages this morning,” Gwaine said. “And then, he might have a request.”
Merlin snagged his messenger bag off the sorting table and pulled the manifest sheet from its pocket. His eyes scanned the addresses on the paperwork, making sure there were no deliveries scheduled for The Devonshire on his route.
“What’s wrong with Merlin? He doesn’t talk anymore?” Freya asked. She drummed her fingernails on her desk waiting for an answer.
Merlin cleared his throat before scanning his manifest for a second time, just to be certain.
The clicking of Freya’s nails on her desk told Merlin this was not going to be a good day to make demands of her. Elyan rolled his eyes at Freya when she wasn’t looking, while Percival pretended to ignore Freya’s tapping.
“Good,” Merlin said, satisfied that a morning visit to The Devonshire was not on the schedule. “You can’t send me to The Devonshire again, Freya.”
“Fantastic,” Freya said. “What have you done now, Emrys?”
The gravity of what happened to him on Friday night was brought sharply into focus again, now that Merlin was back at work. No longer alone in his apartment, he had no videos of Gwen or roommate searches on Craigslist to distract him from reality.
“They’ll find out sooner or later,” Gwaine said, nudging Merlin’s shoulder.
Merlin did his best to ignore Gwaine’s prodding so he could give the impression of taking charge of his own problem.
“You can’t send me there, even if a call comes in requesting me specifically,” Merlin told Freya. He replaced the manifest in the pocket of his messenger bag and slipped it over his head.
“What do you mean?” Percival asked. “You were practically begging Freya to send you to The Devonshire last week.”
Merlin sighed and closed his eyes, as if the action would erase the stares he got from his fellow messengers. He didn’t expect their sympathy, but his personal life was really none of their business. He opened his eyes to glare at Gwaine, who simply shrugged at him.
“I can only imagine,” Freya said. “As if my Monday mornings weren’t busy enough. Let me guess-now I have to deal with you clogging up the works by requesting special treatment. And something tells me that your Prince Charming will never have another pick-up or delivery for us again.”
“Sorry, Freya,” Merlin said. “We had a bit of a falling out, you might say.”
“Don’t be so easy on him, Merlin,” Gwaine said, grabbing his own messenger bag from Freya. “He ditched you.”
“Oh sweetie,” Freya said, cupping Merlin’s chin in her palm from across her desk. “And now you don’t want to see him again? I feel awful for you, really I do. But you do realize this is a place of business, don’t you?”
Merlin pushed her hand away. “I’m just asking you to keep him off my route-and his sister, too. It shouldn’t be too difficult. There are other messengers who work here,” Merlin said, glancing around the office in the hopes of getting some support from his co-workers.
“He must be something really special to make you act like such a girl,” Elyan said with a shake of his head.
“I don’t get it,” Leon said, poking his head in from the garage. “If he ditched you, why do you think he’d be calling you here?”
“Mmmm… that’s a good point,” Freya said. “I bet he only has Kilgharrah Kourier’s number for Merlin. Am I right?”
Merlin cringed.
“Wait a minute. You didn’t give him your cellphone number?” Gwaine asked, gaping speechlessly.
Merlin wilted under Freya’s gaze.
“That’s why I’ve got this message for you. It came in at eight o’clock Sunday morning-from Arthur Pendragon,” Freya tore the message from her notepad and handed it to Merlin.
“What does it say?” Gwaine asked.
“Merlin, call me,” Freya said. “And he leaves his phone number. How efficient.”
“I’m not calling him,” Merlin protested, crumbling the paper into his pocket. “He sent the message on Sunday? He left me on Friday night without a single word to wrap things up or make plans for another date.”
“He basically ran away,” Gwaine said, nodding to Freya in confirmation, which earned him a scowl from Merlin.
“He ran away?” Percival asked.
“It’s a girl thing,” Gwaine said.
Merlin cringed. “Shut up, Gwaine! I’d appreciate everyone minding their own business.” Turning to Freya, he added, “And if you would be so kind as to assign any future deliveries to Gwaine, I’m sure he’ll take care of them.”
Merlin hitched his messenger bag onto his hip and stormed past Leon.
“Don’t worry, Merlin. There are other fish in the sea,” Leon said, following behind him.
Merlin found his bike on the rack, a tag affixed to the handlebars, verifying that Leon had tuned it up over the weekend.
“I know,” Merlin said. “It’s just going to take me awhile.”
Merlin snapped the chinstrap buckle of his helmet into place and rode out the door.
He checked his manifest and wove through the morning traffic to his first stop on Tremont Street.
When he stepped through the door of the financial planner, he barely waved to the secretary who usually offered him a refill of coffee for his travel thermos. Instead, he rode off to his next stop, closer to Downtown Crossing. From the intersection of Tremont and Winter Streets, he could see the upper floors of his apartment building, nestled into the skyline like a puzzle piece. He pedaled past Winter Street and entered Chinatown, where it was much too early for him to be stopping for a snack of sticky rice or turnip cakes. He picked up Mr. Tan’s payroll to drop at the accountant later in the morning.
Merlin was picking up speed, pumping hard on the uphill when the sound of sirens blared through the hazy morning air. He jumped the curb and touched a foot to the sidewalk. Despite the urgency of the ambulance’s horns, most drivers merely tapped on their brakes. The cars had nowhere to go, even if their drivers tried to inch their way to the side of the road. Merlin took a swig from his water bottle and yawned, wishing he had stopped for more coffee. The weekend had been draining for him, and he spent both nights tossing and turning beneath the sheets.
A call came in from Freya who took a moment to ask how his morning was going, before she explained that she needed him to make a pick up at Dr. Disler’s. He was a psychiatrist in the South End who often needed documents delivered to Beth Israel Hospital. Maybe he could check into getting some psychiatric help while he was there-at a discount, Merlin told Freya, who seemed to be amused by the idea. The doc would probably laugh Merlin right out of the office when he learned that Merlin was so obsessed with cats that it had ruined his chances for a relationship with Arthur.
He chained his bike to the wrought iron railing at the brownstone and planned a route for his next half-dozen stops in his head. He’d avoid Fenway at all costs, even if it meant jumbling Freya’s meticulously organized manifest. There was no need to torture himself with the memory of his nearly perfect date with Arthur. At the last minute, he decided against describing his sad tale of woe to the psychiatrist’s office manager, who handed him the documents for the hospital. He joined her for a quick cup of tea, which satisfied his craving for caffeine in the late morning. He left the office and pedaled down the sidewalk of the tree-lined street, flanked by million-dollar condos.
He considered stopping at the MSPCA on his way to Coolidge Corner so he could pick Gilli’s brain on the best way to narrow down potential roommates on Craigslist. But when he got to the intersection, he decided to leave that task for later. He wasn’t in any mood to deal with Gilli’s flirting. It would only remind him of what he had lost with Arthur. He could always stop by later in the week, if he still thought Gilli’s advice could be useful.
On the long straightaway of Huntington Avenue, Merlin couldn’t get Arthur and his sudden departure from the train out of his mind. He slid his hand into his pocket and felt for the crumpled paper with the message Freya had given him. He was almost positive that the mention of cats drove Arthur away. When he couldn’t be completely satisfied with that, he beat himself up a little more by deciding that if not for his obsession with Gwen, it was the groping and kissing that drove Arthur away. Maybe it was all a big mistake.
Merlin couldn’t bring himself to call Arthur. He probably only wanted to officially dump Merlin anyway. No, it was best to leave their failed date with an ambiguous ending. Besides, Merlin was too angry about what happened. After all he went through to make certain their date was perfect, from ironing his clothes, to shaving, to saving Arthur’s life-he couldn’t do any better than that on a date. And if that wasn’t good enough for a second date with Arthur, then Merlin would never be good enough. He wished he hadn’t been so excited in the first place. The sheer dizzying anticipation of spending the night with Arthur, especially when everything had been going so well, was what made Arthur’s sudden departure from the train sting so badly.
Then, there was still the matter of finding a date for his mother’s wedding. If worse came to worst, he could dress Gwaine in a tux and bring him along, he supposed. God knows Gwaine owed him one for blabbing Merlin’s business to the whole office.
When he got to Beth Israel, he traded the psych documents for a chilly insulated container that was going to Boston Children’s Hospital, a mere quarter of a mile away. They never told him what the insulated packages contained. He only knew they were important. Merlin pedaled hard, imagining that the Styrofoam-encased package that rode on his handlebars might be a heart that would replace some unfortunate broken one. In the lobby, he caught his breath after handing off the package to the waiting orderly. He wished his own broken heart could be replaced as easily, with a spin down a connecting alleyway between the hospitals.
The afternoon brought more of the same. Day after day, the week passed much like any other week. He made his deliveries by day, grumbling at Gwaine whenever he got the chance. By night, when he returned to his lonely apartment, he searched the Internet for a new place to live. When he became convinced that nearly everyone advertising for a roommate on Craigslist had spent time in prison at some point in their lives, he turned to watching Gwen on YouTube. If only Merlin’s days were as simple as Gwen and her owner’s. His only care in the world would be choosing the angle from which to film his cat jumping into a box. What a life.
By the time Friday afternoon came, Merlin was looking forward to shutting himself in his apartment where he wouldn’t have to deal with customers or co-workers for two blissful days. He hoped more downtime might pull him out of his funk. He’d fill the days with X-Box and baseball, with free skunky beer and Craigslist, and more Gwen, always more Gwen… He rode through the doors of Kilgharrah Kourier and tossed his empty messenger bag on Freya’s sorting table.
“Just a minute,” Freya said into the phone. “Merlin, wait up, I have another delivery for you.”
Merlin blew out a breath. It was already past quitting time and he wanted nothing more than to go home and sulk. He waited while Freya finished her call.
“It’s urgent,” Freya said, handing him an envelope. “Customer by the name of Annis, thirty-nine eleven at The Devonshire.”
“Freya,” Merlin whined. “You know I can’t go there. Send Gwaine.”
“Gwaine can’t go. That was just him on the phone. He got doored on Beacon Street and he’s in an ambulance on his way to the hospital,” Freya said.
“Oh my God, is he alright?” Merlin quickly traded whatever concerns he had about The Devonshire for his friend’s well-being.
Freya raised her palm to him. “He says he’s fine. The ambulance is just a precaution. Leon is there picking up the bike and Elyan is finishing Gwaine’s deliveries.”
Merlin wondered where Percival was, but he figured he’d lose all Freya’s respect if he were to ask if maybe he could make the delivery instead. Fortunately, Freya was too quick with her directions.
“She’s on a completely different floor than Prince Charming,” Freya said. “Go!”
Merlin shoved the envelope into his messenger bag and rode out the door.
He pedaled up the street to The Devonshire. Knowing his luck, he’d run into Arthur. It had been that kind of week. Arthur had called again on Monday and once on Tuesday, Freya told him, but by Wednesday, he must have given up. Merlin was relieved. He had too many other things to think about besides wondering why someone would be kissing him one minute and then running away at the mere mention of a cat. He didn’t need that kind of boyfriend. Thinking about his date with Arthur only made him angry now.
Merlin chained his bike to the light pole. He tried to keep his head down while his eyes scanned the windows into the lobby, just in case a certain former client happened to be passing through on his way to the elevator.
The usual doorman let him in and buzzed thirty-nine eleven. Ms. Annis gave the okay and Merlin joined several other people in the elevator, pressing the button for the thirty-ninth floor.
Merlin squeezed his way into the back corner of the elevator. He was hot and sweaty from riding all day and he figured he’d give The Devonshire’s residents a break. He took off his gloves and shoved them into the back pocket of his Lycra biking shirt.
At the fourteenth floor, two people exited the car, which freed up more room for Merlin and the remaining people who, Merlin estimated from their business suits, were returning home from a day at the office. Another passenger got off at twenty-seven and Merlin began to panic. What if the elevator didn’t stop at thirty-nine and continued on to forty instead? He took a deep breath and pressed the number thirty-nine again for good measure, even though that button was already illuminated.
He breathed a sigh of relief when the elevator doors opened at the thirty-ninth floor. His relief was short-lived, however, because who stood there, bouncing on his heels in the plush carpeting, but Arthur Pendragon himself.
=^.^= )