Time's Up Chapter 4 Part 1
Chapter 3
Part 1
...Arthur scratched the bridge of his nose, the bright-red mark itching from his glasses, and took a long, indulgent sip straight from a bottle.The day turned out to be rough, and, if he wanted to have any energy for work tomorrow, he had to find a way to relax. Just like this, with a couple of bottles of beer and a horror film. In which at this particular moment, a saw was busy cutting off a leg, red splashes flying all over the screen, and Arthur was incredibly comfortable right now. The content feeling was killed by a buzzing phone. Arthur felt for it around, and, after typing in the password, stared at the screen.
Seriously, he’d cut Gwaine’s bonus this month. Why did he submit to Merlin’s begging and gave away Arthur’s mobile number?
I’m waiting to meet with you-know-who right now. I can sneak into his office.
Arthur heaved a heavy sigh. No, he was definitely going to wring Gwaine’s neck for planting those superagent rubbish in Merlin’s head.
He started typing a reply:
Ease up on the champagne and quit playing Bond.
“‘M not drunk!” Merlin yelled into the phone when Arthur picked it up after ignoring the first four calls.
“I can absolutely hear that,” Arthur said, watching the guts of another victim on the screen falling out in even loops.
“You think I’m useless without Gwaine?” Merlin balked and added, slightly slurring the words, “‘M veeeery independent.”
“Merlin, even if you puke all over Edwin’s office, it won’t change the result of the deal he made on the side, “ Arthur reminded him. “He’s my problem to deal with, so please be a good lad, stay out of it. Or better, splash some cold water on your face and call a cab.”
The last thing he needed was Merlin hunting for the information using a personal invitation into Myrddin’s house. It was doubtful that Balinor would appreciate it if Arthur switched Merlin from drugs to industrial espionage.
“I w-won’t ‘elp y-you then,” Merlin announced angrily and hung up.
Arthur put away his bеer and dialed George. After giving his assistant specific instructions, he turned off the phone and went back to watch the film. He’d deal with Merlin’s outrage tomorrow; for now-rest and nothing else.
Unfortunately, Arthur couldn’t turn off his own brain, and soon enough he grudgingly realised that he was thinking about Merlin. His “charity project”, as Gwaine labeled it, was becoming less and less charitable. Arthur was used to getting paid for his work, and wouldn’t turn down a reward this time. It wasn’t about money, he had enough of that already. But with each passing day, Arthur wanted to succeed more and more-to pull Merlin out of the deep shite he got himself into. And somewhere on the edge of his mind flashed glimpses of an unarticulated plan about what else he’d like to do with Merlin when he stopped acting like a dolt.
“Quit it,” Arthur told himself out loud before his imagination took him somewhere dangerous. Was he really thinking about taking Emrys to bed? Of course not.
The blame was his sodding personal life. When was Vivian going to find the guts to leave him? Arthur couldn’t wait for that happy moment but wasn’t in a hurry to do it himself. His girlfriend deserved her reputation as a wretched bitch, and he’d preferred she left him on her terms instead of finding herself being dumped. Arthur finished his beer in one gulp and scooped a handful of nuts. Tomorrow he’d have to sweat it out, but tonight he could allow himself this small indulgence.
A new text arrived exactly when he was on the treadmill. After a good-night sleep and feeling restful, he was finishing his workout when the phone blinked with, “He replied!!!”
Not lowering his pace, Arthur pressed “talk”.
“Who?” he huffed out, trying to save his breath.
“Will!” Merlin sounded deeply unhappy. “I got drunk yesterday-”
“I remember.”
Merling paused disapprovingly and said, “I got drunk yesterday and when I came home, I wrote Will an email. Like you suggested, that I wanted to see him and talk...”
“And?”
“And he replied! He is in Paris, in school, and, if I go there, he wouldn’t mind meeting me.” Merlin moaned loudly.
“Do it,” Arthur suggested, decreasing the incline and the speed of his pace. He had about five more minutes to go.
“What are you doing there?” Merling asked with suspicion. “Arthur, shite, are you fucking someone over there?”
“I’m running over here, you lazy git.” Arthur scoffed, picturing Merlin’s outrage in vivid colors. “Okay, time’s up. I’ll contact you later.”
This short conversation restored all the energy he just lost running.
Leaving the gym, Arthur was smiling from ear to ear; everything was finally falling into place. In France, Gwaine would finish a little assignment, while Merlin would clean up his shite and stop calling him day and night. Win-win all around, just like always when Arthur put his mind into it.
And if he was deluding himself-it was only a tiny little bit.
Merlin clutched the arms of the seat and began a prayer. It was very short, made up by Merlin himself, “deargodletuslandinonepiece!” He had been afraid of planes since he was a kid. Even of the most reliable ones. Titanic was considered unsinkable, too. At least it was cruising on the waters, and not using its metal wings to cut through the clouds. Probably, the root of his fear was there. Merlin wouldn’t mind riding something alive. For example, as a kid, he dreamed of flying the dragons in the tales his father told him. And he could certainly survive without pretty stewardesses and plastic cups with Coke.
“If you want to keep a memento from this flight, better we steal a blanket,” Gwaine offered, pointedly crossing his eyes at Merlin’s white knuckles.
“How long?” he asked.
“About forty more minutes.” Gwaine checked his watch. “Want something to drink?”
Merlin dismally shook his head. He knew one remedy to help to clear his anxiety, but he couldn’t use it. Sodding Arthur. As if it wasn’t enough that Merlin was antsy about meeting his old friend, now he had to endure this. Where were the old times when they could just board a ship and sail? Comfortable cabin, pleasant company, entertainment, drinks, dancing. And no turbulence in the air.
“Do you already know what you’re going to tell him?” Gwaine aimlessly flipped the pages of the magazine he bought at Heathrow.
“Maybe I won’t tell him anything,” Merlin muttered. Since the moment Will responded to his email and they agreed to meet in Paris, Merlin managed to picture at least a dozen scenarios of how it was going to happen. And every last one was making his bad mood even more sour. When he started picturing a hook from the right, Merlin made himself stop-or Arthur did, sick of hearing his grave predictions. Arthur advised him to act according to the situation and if Will decided to sucker-punch him, he just needed to reciprocate-nothing to worry about.
In Arthur’s world everything was nothing to worry about.
“By the way, I’m going with you,” Gwaine said, folding a paper plane from the financial sheet he just finished studying.
“To meet Will?” Merlin was genuinely surprised.
“Yes.”
“Did Arthur order you to do it?” Merlin was torn: he was glad he wasn’t going to go alone, but he wasn’t a child incapable of figuring things out on his own.
“Arthur ordered me to do something entirely different. And would skin me alive if I failed.” Gwaine skilfully sent the paper plane down the aisle. “I’d like to look at that bloke. And I can’t leave my friend in trouble.”
“Obviously.” Merlin snorted. “You are our true knight in shining armour.”
“Honor and glory for me!” Gwaine proclaimed and smiled disarmingly at the frowning stewardess. She picked up the plane and walked up to them.
“I believe this is yours, sir?” she asked with a slight French accent.
Merlin rolled his eyes and turned to the window. Gwaine immediately dove into flirting, and for some reason it soothed Merlin’s nerves. Of course they hadn’t become best the best of friends in just a couple of weeks, but good pals-definitely. Merlin still didn’t quite believe that Gwaine’s idea to go with him was entirely his, he wasn’t that naive. Still... Merlin didn’t mind. Gwaine wouldn’t make it worse.
Landing didn’t go without a hitch: the pilot circled over the city for the longest time until he received approval to land. Merlin could hardly wait to feel a solid ground under his feet, and as soon as he did, he immediately started dragging Gwaine out of the airport. Gwaine barely managed to hand his business card to the stewardess and walked after him without much enthusiasm.
But then, Gwaine wasn’t one to sulk forever. Not even five minutes later, his mood did a one-eighty, he charmed the elderly cab driver and began cheerfully fishing out all the local gossip from the monsieur. And that’s when Merlin discovered that his companion was kicking arse in French. Not in that formal, impeccable language taught at school. Gwaine was dropping spicy phrases using Parisian slang, and Merlin had trouble keeping up. For some reason, it made Merlin mad. Arthur spent his days doing what he loved, Gwaine didn’t suffer from a lack of self-fulfillment, either, while Merlin had to be a coward and do what he enjoyed in secret. What would they do if they were him?
“... sourpuss,” came from somewhere close.
Merlin flinched, dropped the bottle of water he had clamped between his legs to the floor , and turned to Gwaine. “What?”
“I’m asking if you’re sick.” Gwaine picked up the bottle and handed it back to him. “You’re pale and look like you just sucked on a lemon.”
“No.” Merlin unscrewed the cap and took a sip. “Just not enough sleep.”
But it wasn’t that easy to get rid of Gwaine, and before he knew it, Merlin was pulled into a conversation with the cab driver. Thanks to the driving skills of the man, they made it to the destination without traffic and way early. The cafe where he agreed to meet with Will was empty except for one disheveled bloke in a scarf sloppily wrapped around his neck, engrossed in his iPhone.
“Is that him?” Gwaine asked.
“You haven’t memorised his face?” Merlin ordered himself a coffee and set down at the table.
“I was hoping you’d recognise your friend without my help.” Gwaine didn’t appear offended, crunching on his pastry.
Merlin nodded, but didn’t have a chance to respond. Gwaine’s phone went off and he started quickly talking in French, leaving Merlin to his devices.
They waited for almost an hour, and during that time Merlin managed to wind himself up into a ball of nerves. The greeting bell on the door chimed almost non-stop; the sound kept startling Merlin. Gwaine kept glancing at him in disapproval, but thank God, offered no comments about the situation.
Will came in three cups of coffee (espresso, cappuccino, latte) and two croissants later. He appeared suddenly, although Merlin could swear he kept his eyes on the door all that time.
“Hey, Merlin,” he heard from above.
“Hey.” Merlin quickly raised his head from his crossed arms on the table and offered his hand. The handshake turned out to be long and fierce.
“So, what brought you to Paris?” Will asked, smiling, and sat down on the chair next to him.
“This.” Merlin unceremoniously nodded at Gwaine who was currently arguing with someone over the phone. “We’re kind of friends, and he has business here.”
“And you decided to join him?” Will winked suggestively. “Brilliant. It’s finally gotten warm here; perfect time for clubbing.”
“Uh-” Merlin fumbled for a moment and then chuckled nervously. “It’s not what you think, he’s really just my mate.”
“And I don’t bat for his team, just so you know,” Gwaine suddenly piped into the conversation. With irritation, he threw his phone on the table and pulled a tablet out of his bag. “I’m Gwaine, by the way.”
“Nice to meet you. Will.”
Gwaine quickly nodded and, without looking at Will, cursed under his breath. Most likely due to the weak internet signal in the place.
“Don’t mind him, he’s always like that,” Merlin said.
Will snorted.
Shortly after, Gwaine was ready to leave. After agreeing to meet Merlin at the hotel, he walked out of the cafe and disappeared in the first available cab.
Silence hung around the table. The type of a silence when an aimless conversation was over, but no one was brave enough to start an important one.
“Listen, Merlin-”
“Will-”
They both started to laugh.
“Merlin, you git, why didn’t you call me sooner?” Will jokingly feigned hurt, taking small sips of his black coffee.
“Oi, me?” Merlin said in exasperation. “After everything you said to me? I wanted to kill you.”
“And you told me I was jealous of you, and was only friends with you because you were popular,” Will argued, and Merlin flushed.
“Well-yes. That was-but I wasn’t thinking. I was mad. You understand, I really liked Freya-”
“I do. And-I did envy you,” Will admitted slowly; Merlin stared at him. “What?”
“I don’t believe it.”
“Oh come on, Merlin. You were born with a silver spoon in your mouth. Loving parents, money, family business, which no one tried to shove down your throat-you wanted it yourself. Everyone loved you, and whenever we got in trouble, I was always the one to be blamed first. Child from a dysfunctional family and whatever. Of course, I was angry.”
“Will, I-” Merlin didn’t know what to say.
“Don’t sweat it, Merlin. Honestly, I did appreciate our friendship. You weren’t a spoiled rich prat and didn’t stop being my friend even when your mum demanded so.”
“After we almost blew up the entire chemical supply at the school lab? That was kind of warranted.” Merlin squinted.
“I think the last straw was when we ruined Sophia’s sister wedding-” Will smiled at the memories, and Merlin couldn’t stop his own grin.
Yes, that was a memorable event. Who knew that the explosives would blow up ahead of time? According to their masterplan, it was supposed to happen after the ceremony of cutting the three-story cake. At that point, the confetti, streamers, and other harmless festive crap should’ve exploded out of the container inside.
Instead, all guests ended up covered in cake, the bride’s dress was ruined, and the whole celebration was saved by some sheer miracle. The miracle came in a form of their classmate, Sophia, who swiftly cut off the ruined hem of her sister’s fancy dress using the kitchen scissors and announced the start of a mind-blowing party.
“I always said Soph should’ve been born a bloke,” Merlin said once he stopped laughing.
“True. Did you know that she now works for a company organising parties for the high society?”
“Are you talking about the one specialising in unique events?”
“Exactly,” Will confirmed. “And by the way, they are organising a birthday party for a few of our students.”
“Let me guess, for spoiled prats.”
“You got it. Want to come?”
“I don’t know, I wasn’t invited... And I barely speak any French.”
“Rubbish. It’s a really diverse crowd, everyone speaks English. Come. It’d be great to catch up.”
“Okay,” Merlin gave in. Will was always a master of persuasion. “Do you mind if I bring a plus one?”
“Gwaine?”
“Yes. He’s a great mate, you’ll see. He just had a bad morning, that’s all.” Merlin gave an empathetic pause. “I’d probably have bad mornings, too, if my boss were Arthur Pendragon.”
“Pendragon?” Will whistled. “Do you mean the Pendragon?”
“That’s what I mean.” Merlin sighed. Will frowned and checked his watch. Merlin nodded in understanding. “Lecture?”
“Sod it.” Will waved it off. “I haven’t seen you for such a long time, Merlin bloody Emrys. Let’s go to my place, you’ll tell me all about your deal with the Pendragons.”
“You’d piss your pants.” Merlin laughed. A ten-tonne rock was finally off his chest.
It was easy with Will, as if there wasn’t three years of cold war between them. As if they were back to the times when the weight of the responsibilities for school and making the right life choices weren’t pressing on their shoulders. Merlin missed this so much!
“Will,” Merlin called after paying the waiter.
Will dragged his eyes from the buttons on his coat. Merlin stood in the middle of the cafe, his hair wild and cheeks red from laughing. He wanted to say something.
“I missed you, too, you daft prick,” Will answered his unspoken words and, not able to resist, punched him in the shoulder.
Merlin roared with laughter. Yes, Arthur was right. Paris was going to be a loads of fun.
Chapter 4 Part 2