Amped - Part 15
Nov. 15th, 2011 11:09 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
gwyllionTitle: Amped
Author: gwylliondream
Genre: Modern au
Pairing: Arthur/Merlin
Rating: NC-17
Words: 57,554
A/N: This was written for NaNoWriMo 2011. For additional notes, warnings, etc, please refer to Part 1 here.
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!
Merlin awoke with a shout that shook the futon and jostled the pair of drapes that hung beside him.
Droplets of sweat pricked on his forehead. In the moment before he recognized where he was, he cried out, “No, no, no!” His feet kicked the quilt away in panic.
“Merlin?” Arthur was there, his hands stilling Merlin’s flailing arms.
“Merlin, you’re having a bad dream,” Arthur’s voice stirred him awake.
“Arthur?” Merlin gathered himself. His chest heaved as he gasped for more air.
“I’m here. I think you were having a nightmare,” Arthur said, rubbing his hands up and down Merlin’s arms.
“Oh, God, I’m so sorry,” Merlin said. He was so embarrassed. “I hope I didn’t wake you. Oh that’s stupid of me, of course I did.”
“Don’t worry about it,” Arthur smiled.
“I probably woke the whole house,” Merlin grumbled. “Some overnight guest I am.” He stretched out on the futon, feeling his back crack before he became loose with sleep again.
The sun was shining through the displaced drapes. Merlin squinted as he looked around the room.
Arthur reached for him, his hand hovering above Merlin’s head before dropping to push a stray lock of hair from Merlin’s forehead. “It’s alright, Merlin,” he said. “It’s half seven. Time to be waking anyway.”
“Half seven?” Merlin asked, pulling the quilt up to his chin. “What kind of sweat-shop are you running here?”
“One where the Chief of Police sets the schedule,” Arthur said. “Come on, up you go.”
Merlin swung his legs over the side of the futon. He rose to his feet and when he did, it was as if all the events of the previous day rushed through his mind again. He watched Arthur pulling the sheets and blanket across his mattress and tucking it in before he dragged the crimson comforter over his pillows.
Merlin closed his eyes, remembering. Yesterday wasn’t a bad dream after all.
“Hey, Arthur,” he said.
“Yeah?” Arthur looked up from his fidgeting with the pillows.
“I’ve got to go make a phone call,” Merlin said.
Arthur stopped what he was doing. He said, “Of course, Merlin. I’ll go get us some breakfast.”
Merlin dug his mobile from his bag. Looking up to make sure Arthur had closed the door behind him, he speed-dialled Mordred’s number.
He supposed he should have been shocked that Mordred answered on the first ring.
“Merlin,” Mordred said.
“Mordred,” Merlin breathed a sigh of relief. He swayed for a moment, the sunlight growing brighter in Arthur’s room, the sounds of the household rumbling to alertness as the day began.
The tension being transmitted through the airwaves was as thick as clotted cream.
“I… I just want to know what’s going on,” Merlin said.
“You tell me,” Mordred said. Merlin could hear the smile in his voice.
Merlin laughed, more from nervousness than anything. “We need to talk,” he blurted out. “Are you home, will you be home today?”
Merlin looked around the room, finding the ticking alarm clock on Arthur’s bedside table. “Half seven,” he breathed aloud, remembering that Arthur had told him the time already. “I can be there soon.”
“I may be,” Mordred said. “Or I may not be.”
Merlin let the phone slide down his cheek. He paced back and forth in front of the bed.
“Mordred, I need to know. We need to talk, yeah? You can’t just change the locks and throw me out. Where am I supposed to go? We’ve been together two years. Look, I’ll stop by. We’ll talk. I’m on my way now.”
Merlin listened to the dead air before hanging up.
He shoved the phone into his bag and stripped off Arthur’s clothes, leaving them on the bed. Dressing quickly, he met Arthur in the dining room.
“Father, this is Merlin,” Arthur said.
“Hello, sir,” Merlin said, grabbing a banana off the buffet. He hoped he could employ Arthur’s help. He decided that rushing him out the door would be the best way to get to Mordred and to avoid Arthur’s father. “Arthur, if you don’t mind, I appreciate your hospitality, but I’ve really got to get going.”
He was relieved when Arthur grabbed the keys to the Smart Car and followed him out the door.
***
“I’m not going to say anything,” Arthur said as they pulled onto the main road, the Smart Car slinking into the morning traffic.
“Sorry,” Merlin said.
Arthur adjusted his aviators and chanced a glance at his reflection in the rear-view mirror.
“I was rude,” Merlin said.
“And surly,” Arthur added.
“I am so sorry,” Merlin said, turning in his seat so he could face Arthur. “I’ll make it up to you. Anything. I swear. After all you’ve done. God! I didn’t mean to act so weird in front of your father.”
“I’m just glad Morgana’s sleeping pills hadn’t worn off yet,” Arthur said. “Or you could have made me the laughingstock of my entire extended family.”
Merlin buried his face in his hands. “I’m sorry,” he said again.
Arthur nodded. “It will be okay. You’re distressed.”
Merlin didn’t dare venture a look in Arthur’s direction. “Really? Will it really be okay? I feel like such an arse,” he said.
At the next red light, Arthur played with his ring, rotating it between his thumb and forefinger until the light turned green.
“It will be fine. My father understands the psychology of human nature. He’s a policeman,” Arthur exhaled resolutely. “Everything will be fine. My father is the least of your worries.”
Arthur stalked a parking place in front of Merlin’s building. He put the Smart Car into park.
“Go ahead, Merlin,” he said. “This is what you wanted to do.”
Merlin slid his hand across the Smart Car’s door. He had to admit he was nervous, scared even of what might happen if Mordred was angry.
“Good luck, Merlin,” Arthur said, chewing his bottom lip. “I wish you and Mordred every happiness.”
Merlin’s fingers were shaking as he opened the Smart Car’s door. “Arthur?”
“I’m going to wait right here,” Arthur said. He slid his aviators off and looked Merlin in the eye. “If he’s not there… or if you can’t get in to at least collect your belongings… I want your arse right back out here in this car. You’ve got work to do today.”
Arthur put his aviators back on like he meant business. Merlin closed the Smart Car door behind him and walked through the gate.
Merlin was grateful that his key could still open the entrance door. He climbed the four flights of stairs to the flat... Mordred’s flat… where they spent the first night that they met, the flat he had come to consider his own, despite all the difficulties of living with a genius like Mordred. He was a genius. He’d tell you so, himself.
Merlin pushed on the door, hoping it would open.
It didn’t.
He rapped on the door with his knuckles, but there was no sound in the flat.
He wondered a thousand things about why Mordred had left. Merlin had told him he was on his way over. He felt like shit. Like he wasn’t worth even the half-hour or so it took for Arthur to drive him there.
Arthur.
Merlin trudged down the hallway and descended the stairs.
The Smart Car was still there.
“Hey,” Arthur said through the passenger’s side window.
Merlin held his hand up to hopefully silence him.
“Please,” he said, sliding into his seat. “I’m not in the mood for your lost puppies or promises of candy today.”
“Come on, sweetheart,” Arthur said. “I’ve got enough worries with The Round Table Tour being a week away. I don’t need you getting all emo on me.”
Merlin fastened his seatbelt.
“Besides,” Arthur continued. “You forgot your kohl. I almost didn’t recognize you. I thought you were a guy for a moment there.”
“Oh, mate,” Merlin replied clutching his chest. “That hurts. You wound me. Absolutely wound me. Kick me when I’m down.”
Arthur snickered as he pulled out into traffic.
Merlin laid his head back and smiled. Maybe he’d be able to make it through the day without crying after all.
***
Merlin was grateful for the time it took to get from his flat… his former flat… to the garage. He reclined his seat back as far as it would go and worked his sulky emo routine for all it was worth.
Arthur clenched his jaw, probably pissed off as hell with him for his antics at the Pendragon house, and for his whining to be taken to Mordred’s flat.
“You’re a good friend,” Merlin said absentmindedly, thinking about his own transgressions.
“What?” asked Arthur, turning to face him as he wove through rush-hour traffic.
“You’re good,” Merlin said. “You’re a good man.” He wanted more than anything to slide his hand over Arthur’s as he held the steering wheel... to reassure Arthur that he believed in him, believed that no matter what happened with Gwen and Nimueh, with his father and The Black Zigzags, with the Police Academy and The Knights… Merlin would always see Arthur’s goodness in dealing with any the situation, no matter how daunting. He’d always believe Arthur was doing the best he could. He had certainly proved it to Merlin, both by taking in a vagabond, and by driving him to his boyfriend’s house.
They parked the Smart Car and Merlin followed Arthur onto the loading dock, sliding under the corrugated door, to make their entrance.
Merlin tossed his satchel onto the table, as usual, so he could go over his notes as the band rehearsed. He also had a good mind to go over all the electronics with a fine toothed comb to take care of the anomalies in the equipment that he noticed during the previous rehearsal at the Avalon Theatre. It was going to be a long day. And when it was over he hoped that Arthur would take him to Mordred’s flat again, just to get his things and make sure he wasn’t mistaken in their relationship being over.
“Hey, guys,” Leon said, turning his head from the ping pong table to greet the new arrivals.
“What’s all this?” asked Arthur.
“It’s bloody brilliant,” Percival said, raising a paddle in the air.
“It’s junk,” Gwen said, approaching Arthur and pressing a kiss to his cheek. “They found it on the side of the road whilst Lance and I were transporting the keyboards and the drum kit. They decided they couldn’t live without it.
“Damn right,” said Leon, returning Percival’s serve.
The weightless white ball flew through the air, landing somewhere among the empty pizza boxes that were stacked in the corner.
“Here you go, mate,” Percival got into serve position and slammed the ball with the paddle.
This time, the ball bounced toward the seldom-used conventional door. Before the ball bounced to a stop, the door opened and a slim woman decked in red stepped into the garage. She bent to pick up the ball, her scarlet nails contrasting like a candy cane on the white of the ping pong ball.
Gwen rushed over to her and took the ball from her hand. She greeted her and drew her toward Arthur.
“Arthur,” said Gwen. “This is Nimueh. I thought she could hang out and watch us rehearse today.”
“Sure, Gwen,” said Arthur graciously. “Nimueh, make yourself at home.”
Merlin wasn’t sure how Arthur did it. He not only managed to keep his composure when Gwen brought that woman into The Knights’ rehearsal, but he sounded better than ever on vocals.
The day flew by and saw Merlin checking his mobile a hundred times for a message from Mordred. Each time he punched the damn thing on, it was like a little stab into his heart. That’s right, he told himself. You were nothing to Mordred. He doesn’t want you back. You’re not worth it to him. You’ll never be worth anything to anyone.
He wiped his eyes on his sleeve more times than he cared to think. At least he was preoccupied and busy with the equipment, although Gwaine seemed to notice something was wrong, but as soon as he could ask if Merlin was alright, Elyan dragged him away to practice some new song or to listen to a riff he had worked out.
Before Merlin knew it, it was time to leave.
Author: gwylliondream
Genre: Modern au
Pairing: Arthur/Merlin
Rating: NC-17
Words: 57,554
A/N: This was written for NaNoWriMo 2011. For additional notes, warnings, etc, please refer to Part 1 here.
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!
Merlin awoke with a shout that shook the futon and jostled the pair of drapes that hung beside him.
Droplets of sweat pricked on his forehead. In the moment before he recognized where he was, he cried out, “No, no, no!” His feet kicked the quilt away in panic.
“Merlin?” Arthur was there, his hands stilling Merlin’s flailing arms.
“Merlin, you’re having a bad dream,” Arthur’s voice stirred him awake.
“Arthur?” Merlin gathered himself. His chest heaved as he gasped for more air.
“I’m here. I think you were having a nightmare,” Arthur said, rubbing his hands up and down Merlin’s arms.
“Oh, God, I’m so sorry,” Merlin said. He was so embarrassed. “I hope I didn’t wake you. Oh that’s stupid of me, of course I did.”
“Don’t worry about it,” Arthur smiled.
“I probably woke the whole house,” Merlin grumbled. “Some overnight guest I am.” He stretched out on the futon, feeling his back crack before he became loose with sleep again.
The sun was shining through the displaced drapes. Merlin squinted as he looked around the room.
Arthur reached for him, his hand hovering above Merlin’s head before dropping to push a stray lock of hair from Merlin’s forehead. “It’s alright, Merlin,” he said. “It’s half seven. Time to be waking anyway.”
“Half seven?” Merlin asked, pulling the quilt up to his chin. “What kind of sweat-shop are you running here?”
“One where the Chief of Police sets the schedule,” Arthur said. “Come on, up you go.”
Merlin swung his legs over the side of the futon. He rose to his feet and when he did, it was as if all the events of the previous day rushed through his mind again. He watched Arthur pulling the sheets and blanket across his mattress and tucking it in before he dragged the crimson comforter over his pillows.
Merlin closed his eyes, remembering. Yesterday wasn’t a bad dream after all.
“Hey, Arthur,” he said.
“Yeah?” Arthur looked up from his fidgeting with the pillows.
“I’ve got to go make a phone call,” Merlin said.
Arthur stopped what he was doing. He said, “Of course, Merlin. I’ll go get us some breakfast.”
Merlin dug his mobile from his bag. Looking up to make sure Arthur had closed the door behind him, he speed-dialled Mordred’s number.
He supposed he should have been shocked that Mordred answered on the first ring.
“Merlin,” Mordred said.
“Mordred,” Merlin breathed a sigh of relief. He swayed for a moment, the sunlight growing brighter in Arthur’s room, the sounds of the household rumbling to alertness as the day began.
The tension being transmitted through the airwaves was as thick as clotted cream.
“I… I just want to know what’s going on,” Merlin said.
“You tell me,” Mordred said. Merlin could hear the smile in his voice.
Merlin laughed, more from nervousness than anything. “We need to talk,” he blurted out. “Are you home, will you be home today?”
Merlin looked around the room, finding the ticking alarm clock on Arthur’s bedside table. “Half seven,” he breathed aloud, remembering that Arthur had told him the time already. “I can be there soon.”
“I may be,” Mordred said. “Or I may not be.”
Merlin let the phone slide down his cheek. He paced back and forth in front of the bed.
“Mordred, I need to know. We need to talk, yeah? You can’t just change the locks and throw me out. Where am I supposed to go? We’ve been together two years. Look, I’ll stop by. We’ll talk. I’m on my way now.”
Merlin listened to the dead air before hanging up.
He shoved the phone into his bag and stripped off Arthur’s clothes, leaving them on the bed. Dressing quickly, he met Arthur in the dining room.
“Father, this is Merlin,” Arthur said.
“Hello, sir,” Merlin said, grabbing a banana off the buffet. He hoped he could employ Arthur’s help. He decided that rushing him out the door would be the best way to get to Mordred and to avoid Arthur’s father. “Arthur, if you don’t mind, I appreciate your hospitality, but I’ve really got to get going.”
He was relieved when Arthur grabbed the keys to the Smart Car and followed him out the door.
***
“I’m not going to say anything,” Arthur said as they pulled onto the main road, the Smart Car slinking into the morning traffic.
“Sorry,” Merlin said.
Arthur adjusted his aviators and chanced a glance at his reflection in the rear-view mirror.
“I was rude,” Merlin said.
“And surly,” Arthur added.
“I am so sorry,” Merlin said, turning in his seat so he could face Arthur. “I’ll make it up to you. Anything. I swear. After all you’ve done. God! I didn’t mean to act so weird in front of your father.”
“I’m just glad Morgana’s sleeping pills hadn’t worn off yet,” Arthur said. “Or you could have made me the laughingstock of my entire extended family.”
Merlin buried his face in his hands. “I’m sorry,” he said again.
Arthur nodded. “It will be okay. You’re distressed.”
Merlin didn’t dare venture a look in Arthur’s direction. “Really? Will it really be okay? I feel like such an arse,” he said.
At the next red light, Arthur played with his ring, rotating it between his thumb and forefinger until the light turned green.
“It will be fine. My father understands the psychology of human nature. He’s a policeman,” Arthur exhaled resolutely. “Everything will be fine. My father is the least of your worries.”
Arthur stalked a parking place in front of Merlin’s building. He put the Smart Car into park.
“Go ahead, Merlin,” he said. “This is what you wanted to do.”
Merlin slid his hand across the Smart Car’s door. He had to admit he was nervous, scared even of what might happen if Mordred was angry.
“Good luck, Merlin,” Arthur said, chewing his bottom lip. “I wish you and Mordred every happiness.”
Merlin’s fingers were shaking as he opened the Smart Car’s door. “Arthur?”
“I’m going to wait right here,” Arthur said. He slid his aviators off and looked Merlin in the eye. “If he’s not there… or if you can’t get in to at least collect your belongings… I want your arse right back out here in this car. You’ve got work to do today.”
Arthur put his aviators back on like he meant business. Merlin closed the Smart Car door behind him and walked through the gate.
Merlin was grateful that his key could still open the entrance door. He climbed the four flights of stairs to the flat... Mordred’s flat… where they spent the first night that they met, the flat he had come to consider his own, despite all the difficulties of living with a genius like Mordred. He was a genius. He’d tell you so, himself.
Merlin pushed on the door, hoping it would open.
It didn’t.
He rapped on the door with his knuckles, but there was no sound in the flat.
He wondered a thousand things about why Mordred had left. Merlin had told him he was on his way over. He felt like shit. Like he wasn’t worth even the half-hour or so it took for Arthur to drive him there.
Arthur.
Merlin trudged down the hallway and descended the stairs.
The Smart Car was still there.
“Hey,” Arthur said through the passenger’s side window.
Merlin held his hand up to hopefully silence him.
“Please,” he said, sliding into his seat. “I’m not in the mood for your lost puppies or promises of candy today.”
“Come on, sweetheart,” Arthur said. “I’ve got enough worries with The Round Table Tour being a week away. I don’t need you getting all emo on me.”
Merlin fastened his seatbelt.
“Besides,” Arthur continued. “You forgot your kohl. I almost didn’t recognize you. I thought you were a guy for a moment there.”
“Oh, mate,” Merlin replied clutching his chest. “That hurts. You wound me. Absolutely wound me. Kick me when I’m down.”
Arthur snickered as he pulled out into traffic.
Merlin laid his head back and smiled. Maybe he’d be able to make it through the day without crying after all.
***
Merlin was grateful for the time it took to get from his flat… his former flat… to the garage. He reclined his seat back as far as it would go and worked his sulky emo routine for all it was worth.
Arthur clenched his jaw, probably pissed off as hell with him for his antics at the Pendragon house, and for his whining to be taken to Mordred’s flat.
“You’re a good friend,” Merlin said absentmindedly, thinking about his own transgressions.
“What?” asked Arthur, turning to face him as he wove through rush-hour traffic.
“You’re good,” Merlin said. “You’re a good man.” He wanted more than anything to slide his hand over Arthur’s as he held the steering wheel... to reassure Arthur that he believed in him, believed that no matter what happened with Gwen and Nimueh, with his father and The Black Zigzags, with the Police Academy and The Knights… Merlin would always see Arthur’s goodness in dealing with any the situation, no matter how daunting. He’d always believe Arthur was doing the best he could. He had certainly proved it to Merlin, both by taking in a vagabond, and by driving him to his boyfriend’s house.
They parked the Smart Car and Merlin followed Arthur onto the loading dock, sliding under the corrugated door, to make their entrance.
Merlin tossed his satchel onto the table, as usual, so he could go over his notes as the band rehearsed. He also had a good mind to go over all the electronics with a fine toothed comb to take care of the anomalies in the equipment that he noticed during the previous rehearsal at the Avalon Theatre. It was going to be a long day. And when it was over he hoped that Arthur would take him to Mordred’s flat again, just to get his things and make sure he wasn’t mistaken in their relationship being over.
“Hey, guys,” Leon said, turning his head from the ping pong table to greet the new arrivals.
“What’s all this?” asked Arthur.
“It’s bloody brilliant,” Percival said, raising a paddle in the air.
“It’s junk,” Gwen said, approaching Arthur and pressing a kiss to his cheek. “They found it on the side of the road whilst Lance and I were transporting the keyboards and the drum kit. They decided they couldn’t live without it.
“Damn right,” said Leon, returning Percival’s serve.
The weightless white ball flew through the air, landing somewhere among the empty pizza boxes that were stacked in the corner.
“Here you go, mate,” Percival got into serve position and slammed the ball with the paddle.
This time, the ball bounced toward the seldom-used conventional door. Before the ball bounced to a stop, the door opened and a slim woman decked in red stepped into the garage. She bent to pick up the ball, her scarlet nails contrasting like a candy cane on the white of the ping pong ball.
Gwen rushed over to her and took the ball from her hand. She greeted her and drew her toward Arthur.
“Arthur,” said Gwen. “This is Nimueh. I thought she could hang out and watch us rehearse today.”
“Sure, Gwen,” said Arthur graciously. “Nimueh, make yourself at home.”
Merlin wasn’t sure how Arthur did it. He not only managed to keep his composure when Gwen brought that woman into The Knights’ rehearsal, but he sounded better than ever on vocals.
The day flew by and saw Merlin checking his mobile a hundred times for a message from Mordred. Each time he punched the damn thing on, it was like a little stab into his heart. That’s right, he told himself. You were nothing to Mordred. He doesn’t want you back. You’re not worth it to him. You’ll never be worth anything to anyone.
He wiped his eyes on his sleeve more times than he cared to think. At least he was preoccupied and busy with the equipment, although Gwaine seemed to notice something was wrong, but as soon as he could ask if Merlin was alright, Elyan dragged him away to practice some new song or to listen to a riff he had worked out.
Before Merlin knew it, it was time to leave.
