Disclaimer:: Merlin (c) BBC
Notes:: Just something to satisfy my inner Merthur fangirl =) Hope you like. If anyone has any ideas they want me to try, feel free to tell me via PM or review.
Across Time: Chicken Soup for a Merthur Lover's Soul
A collection of AU Merthur standalone oneshots
Chapter I: Supermodel
Merlin is thrilled to land a prestigious internship at Viva Camelot, a fashion magazine. What he's not so thrilled about is his first assignment-- interviewing Arthur Pendragon.
--
"...I'm suddenly not sure if this is such a good idea." Merlin bit his lip. "I want to throw up."
"I smell a drama queen tantrum coming." Lancelot grinned, rolling his eyes, "Honestly, you'll do fine, you landed the interview with no sweat, didn't you? Half the guys piss their pants halfway through the appointment process. You'll land the internship, no problem. Just go in there and give them hell. Merlin the extraordinaire. They call you that for a reason, don't they?"
"I don't feel like an extraordinaire right now, thank you." Merlin griped, "Gwen, will you please tell your boyfriend to say something encouraging and helpful instead of freaking me out?"
Gwen laughed, her name was Guinevere, but as far as Merlin knew, her name was a mistake, her parents wanted to name or something exotic, but Guinevere just grew up looking like a 'Gwen', so it stayed that way. "I think Lancelot's being plenty helpful, Merlin. And he's right you know, you are a bit of a drama queen sometimes, just be yourself, you'll be fine."
"But if I blow this, it'd be all over. And besides, Morgana Le Fay will be interviewing me. I didn't talk to her when I made the interview." Merlin sighed, "I've seen her on television, she's a scary bitch."
"Which...sort of brings me back to my original question: why do you want to work for a bitch, again?" Lancelot raised his eyebrow.
"Lancelot." Gwen gave her boyfriend a stern look, "Now you're really not helping."
"I want to work for Viva Camelot...not my fault that Morgana Le Fay runs the place with an iron fist." Merlin glanced at his watch, "Anyway, I gotta go." He got out of the car and threw a wave over his shoulder, "See you guys...if I make it out alive."
"Oh, don't be so melodramatic, we'll be back here to meet you for coffee, okay?" Gwen hurriedly waved at him, before Lancelot could come up with some smart retort. "Break a leg, Merlin. You'll be great."
--
Merlin's euphoria lasted a total of about seven seconds, maybe less. Whatever confidence he mustered outside the door, disappeared the moment he was shown to the office of Morgana Le Fay. The kid that led him there paused outside the door with a faint grin, "Good luck in there, Morgana's not that scary if you get to know her. Just don't freak out in the middle of things, she really hates it when people are freaking out."
"...Ah, thanks." I think. That certainly helped. A lot.
"No problem. Anyway, I'll be here if you need anything...after your interview, of course. It doesn't take long." The boy opened the door, "After you."
Morgana Le Fay's office was big, and it was clean. There was a leather couch against one wall, and a coffee table with a vase. The vase only had a single rose in it. There was also a rack of what looked to be unfinished clothing, and her desk sat in the middle of the room. She sat there, hard at work flipping through a fashion spread. Morgana only looked up when his guide stood directly in front of her desk.
"Morgana, your appointment for 2pm is here. Might I introduce Merlin?"
She rolled her eyes, "I live for your drama, Mordred, I really do. Thanks for brightening up my day."
"You're very welcome." Mordred turned, as he did, he clapped Merlin on the shoulder, "It's your show, don't screw it up."
"Thanks, Mordred."
Mordred was gone, and Merlin went back to feeling very naked and very stupid in front of Morgana Le Fay. She couldn't have been that much older than he was, but she looked more imposing than she'd ever had on television. "So...are you just going to stand there gaping at me or are you actually going to sit and talk?"
Merlin closed his mouth, "Oh, yeah...sorry. My name's Merlin. I'm here for the err, interview."
"Well, pull up a chair. Don't look at me like that, I don't bite." Morgana put her fashion spread aside, "Coffee?"
"...I drink tea." Merlin said.
"Well, then, tea?" She smiled at him, it was an almost welcoming smile, "Come on, I need a reason to boss Mordred around."
"...Yeah, okay, I guess I'll have some tea."
--
Forty-five minutes and two cups of tea later, Merlin emerged from Morgana's office all smiles. Mordred leaned against the opposite wall looking so amused. "So, I guess I'm the first to say, Congratulations."
"Thanks."
Mordred walked with him to the door, "When do you start?"
"She told me Thursday."
"Ah, so you'll start your first day of work on a hell day." Mordred smirked, "That certainly sounds like Morgana Le Fay. All the publications have to be done by Friday, so Thursday's pretty much hell day for everyone...me included. Even though I technically don't do anything except deliver tea or and harass Morgana."
"Sounds like fun."
"Yeah, tons of fun." Mordred nodded his head cheerily, "More fun than your first assignment, I'm guessing. What is it? Usually Morgana gives out something impossible. It's something like initiation."
...That didn't sound appetizing at all, Merlin blinked at him, "What was yours?"
"Mine? Eh...it was more of a formality, since I'm Morgana's cousin and technically she's not allowed to do anything to me. Mine was a joke really." Mordred shrugged, "I had to plan a surprise party for Gaius our night janitor...he's deathly suspicious of everything, so it's pretty hard to surprise him. I managed though, somehow." He gestured to the thin file Merlin held, "Search for the purple post-it, it's in there, somewhere."
After a minute, Merlin held out the purple post-it. In a neat hand and blue pen, Morgana had written:
Interview Arthur Pendragon for next Friday's issue. ~ Morgana.
"You've got to be kidding me, are you serious?" Mordred snatched the post-it from Merlin and squinted at it, as if that would make the right words appear, when it didn't, Mordred handed back the post-it with a shake of his head. "Boy, she really must hate you. Arthur Pendragon? That's harsh."
"Why?" Merlin asked faintly.
"Oh, no reason, Arthur Pendragon's up and coming. He's also the biggest prat you'll ever meet in your lifetime." Mordred shrugged, "I interviewed him once, I was filling in for someone; I swear, every time he opened his mouth, I wanted to bash his face in. Good luck with that."
--
"What's wrong, Merlin?" Lancelot settled next to him on the couch, "For someone who just landed a dream job, you don't look so happy."
"I'm not." Merlin popped open a new can of beer, he had started drinking out of celebration, and the longer he thought about his pending assignment on Thursday, it turned into drinking out of depression. "I have to make initiation."
"So? It can't be any worse than pledging, can't it?"
Merlin looked at Lancelot, "...Actually, yeah, it can. When Arthur Pendragon's involved."
Gwen, who had just answered the room, fairly tripped on her feet, "Did I just hear you say 'Arthur Pendragon'?"
"Yep, I have to interview him on Thursday. Totally looking forward to it." Merlin wiped his mouth, "Don't start salivating all at once now, Gwen. He's a prat, have you ever seen him on television? He has an ego five miles high!"
"So? He's good looking."
"...Excuse me?" Lancelot raised an eyebrow.
Gwen quickly cleared her throat, "You're better looking." She pecked him primly on the cheek, "But honestly, he's Arthur Pendragon! Wipe that frown off your face, Merlin, surely it can't be that bad."
Merlin did, by drowning more beer. He was not looking forward to Thursday at all.
--
Arthur Pendragon was something of a wonder, he was only twenty-three, a year older than Merlin, but toted an extensive resume, in the last year alone, he attended over forty shoots in several different countries, The States, England, France, even Korea. He'd appeared as the poster child of good looks in the top fashion magazines, Viva Camelot included. He was not opposed to walking the runway nude (he had done that once in Switzerland, the show had sold out) Arthur's private life was a mess, he dated girls and guys and--
Merlin nearly blanched
"As long as they're not horrible to look at, I guess that's enough for me. I'm not that picky of a guy." So Arthur Pendragon told Elle, in an interview just two months ago. Merlin put down the file in disgust, he was starting to feel like a sellout without morals just reading these stupid interviews.
"Hey," Said Mordred out of nowhere, "You about ready to go?"
"Who are you, my designated driver?"
"Yeah, you drive a junk bucket, I'm supposed to get you to the interview in high style. Oh, and in case you need to cry after Arthur Pendragon's done with you, I'm supposed to buy you a cup of tea and nurse your wounds." Mordred grinned, "It's going to be fun, come on."
Yeah, Merlin thought, real fun.
--
Merlin spotted Arthur Pendragon the moment he entered the cafe. Mordred had left him alone to go hang somewhere, but now Merlin wished that he had told Mordred to stay. Arthur Pendragon was intimidating halfway across the room. He also had a girl on his arm--gee, how surprising was that? Merlin sucked furiously on his ice tea for comfort.
"Hey, you from Viva Camelot?"
"Err..." Merlin was momentarily at a loss for words. The only coherent thought seeing top model Arthur Pendragon across the table was: Well, isn't he bloody gorgeous? He promptly kicked himself under the table.
"Well? Are you or aren't you?" Arthur demanded.
Merlin recovered, "Yeah, I mean...yes, I am. My name's Merlin." He stumbled clumsily to his feet and held out a hand for Arthur to shake. "Pleased to meet you." (What he really wanted to say was "You look even better in person.")
But Arthur just stared at him, like Merlin was some fly that landed unawares in his onion soup or something like that, "Are you...sure you're from Viva Camelot?"
Feeling foolish, Merlin dropped his hand, "Yeah, why?"
"Because." Arthur tasted the word like delectable chocolate and still looked at Merlin like he was scum stuck on his shoe, "Because, I thought Morgana Le Fay would have better sense than to send you to me dressed like..." a faint well placed sneer graced his lips, "that."
Merlin certainly didn't think there was anything wrong with what he was wearing. Sure, perhaps his button-up shirt and jeans were a little plain, but they were no cause for Arthur to sneer like that.
"You can't blame her." Merlin said defensively, "...I didn't see Morgana today."
"Well, you should have. Even without her, though, you'd think you'd have some sense not to wear light colors, it makes you look like a emaciated ghost." Arthur replied smoothly, as he sat down. The girl that he was with stuck her tongue boldly into his ear and said something about a manicure next door.
"Yeah, fine, whatever, I'll come find you."
Merlin averted his eyes, and took out his note pad. In bold strokes, he penned: Arthur Pendragon is a prat.
The interview would go downhill from there.
-
A week later, the minute Merlin showed up to work, Mordred was there to meet him. "...Morgana's ticked at you." He reported somberly, "She wants you in her office, now."
Merlin's mind started whirling a mile a minute. What had he done? Well, there was that one time on Friday, where he had taken forever with the copies because the copier machine decided to break when everyone needed it the most--that wasn't his fault. But there was also that time on Monday, when Mordred was late to work and Merlin became the designated coffee boy. He forgot to mention on his resume that he didn't make coffee. And then there was--
"...I think it's about the Arthur Pendragon interview. The little blurb that you wrote." Mordred told him, "I thought it was hilarious because everyone knows he's a prat, but...I don't think she's too happy about that."
Oh, yeah. He had almost forgotten about that. Arthur Pendragon, however good looking he was, wasn't someone that Merlin wanted to remember. "...Oh."
As expected, Morgana didn't look to amused to see him, "...So. Would you please explain to me what possessed you to write 'Arthur Pendragon is a prat'?"
"Err..." Why they'd even published it if everyone was so pissed off about it was a better question, or so Merlin thought. "I'm sorry, it just...he insulted me."
"Arthur Pendragon insults everyone." Morgana shot back, "The first rule of the fashion business? Don't let him get to you." She fixed him with a venomous glare. "I want you to go over to his flat right now and apologize. His stupid agent put me through hell this morning. He threatened to call a press conference. You got me into this mess, you get me out of it, or else you're done here."
"I--"
"And for God's sake, get Mordred to pick something from the bin for you to wear. Tell him to take my car again."
-
"You should have told me what to wear the first time." Merlin told Mordred without much humor, "Maybe he wouldn't have insulted me." That wasn't to say he liked his new clothes, everything felt at least a size too small, and Merlin already thought he was skinny.
"He insults everyone." Mordred looked at him, "What makes you so special?" He parked the car alongside a curb, "That building, the sixth floor. I'll wait out here for you, I'm guessing you won't take long."
"I'll be out of there in thirty seconds." promised Merlin.
-
"...Properly dressed this time, Merlin. I'm impressed." Arthur Pendragon opened the door for him with a wide smirk. "Come in." Surprisingly, he didn't have a girl glued to his side this time. But Merlin took the high road and refused the urge to say so.
Merlin wondered why Arthur remembered his name. The model was famous, met tons of people every day...but he remembered Merlin's name. Well, when he thought about it again, it made sense, if someone wrote about him being a prat in a magazine, he'd probably remember the guy's name too. He shook his head, "...No thanks, I'm not staying."
"I said, come in, Merlin." Arthur's voice now had an edge to it, "Rule Two when talking to a famous person: you don't refuse me."
Biting his lip, Merlin stepped in the door. "I"m still not staying, Arthur." Because it felt weird to call a guy like that Mr. Pendragon, or sir.
"Not even when I'm trying to be hospitable?" Arthur ducked briefly into what appeared to be the kitchen and came back with two cans of beer. He tossed one to Merlin, who nearly dropped it.
"Thanks but no thanks. I don't drink so early in the morning."
"It's not morning." Arthur popped open his own can and sloshed down a large gulp; somehow, he still made the motion seem exquisite, elegant. "It's 2pm."
Merlin held his ground, he was close to just abandoning all pretenses and running out the door. He wasn't sure what it was about Arthur Pendragon and his brand-name clothing and smirks that still looked good, no matter how much Merlin disliked the guy. "I don't want a drink. Seriously, I'm just supposed to apologize, and then I'll get out of your hair."
"...So, I'm sorry, and then you walk out of here."
"Well, yeah." Merlin looked down at the beer can in his hand.
"After you wrote the article, read by people in Korea, about how I was a prat." Arthur gave him a look, "What made you think I was going to let you off easy?"
"But you are a prat."Merlin said, "I stand by the fact that if you'd been somewhat civil, I wouldn't have written that."
"I was civil." Arthur said, "And besides, you're properly dressed now." He drank more beer, "It was all for a good cause."
"I disagree."
Arthur smirked at him, "Rule Three when talking to a famous person: you don't contradict me." So saying, he took one step, and then another, and then another, until Merlin found himself pinned against the wall. Even though he hadn't even finished an entire can yet, the alcohol was prevalent on Arthur and it made Merlin's head swim. "You might find that your life might be easier that way."
"Arthur--what are you doing?"
"Seducing you in order to humiliate you, what does it look like, Merlin?"Arthur's mouth found his throat, "If at any point and time you feel like reciprocating, I won't mind."
Alarm bells went off in Merlin's head then, but those bells died down when he realized it was Arthur Pendragon doing wondrous things to his body. Things that girls all over would die to have him do. And at the moment, (though Merlin would never, ever admit it outside the private recesses of his own brain) he knew why. "Arthur..." Somehow, his hands found their way to Arthur's hips, "These aren't...my clothes."
"...Thanks, I couldn't tell." Arthur pulled away briefly, "I'll be careful not to tear anything."
Merlin wanted to tell Arthur that seducing him didn't make things any better, Arthur was still no less of a prat, even though he was doing unimaginable things to him. "...I'm going to want to kill you later. Probably."
"Let me change your mind."
-
Later, actually, a full two hours later, Merlin sat naked on Arthur Pendragon's bed holding a can of beer. He drained it and started to get dressed. His mind was still mush and he couldn't quite work up the courage to tell Arthur Pendragon that he was going to kill him. Things hadn't changed, not one bit.
Arthur walked into the room, also as nature intended, and sat. Merlin averted his eyes.
"Nothing you haven't seen."
"I'm still going to kill you." Merlin said, to himself, he also didn't sound too convincing.
"...We'll see about that." Arthur tipped his face up and kissed him, "Will you at least rewrite our interview? I honestly liked this one better."
Mordred was probably going to kill him. Thirty seconds had dragged on into two hours. And Merlin didn't even want to think about Morgana. Merlin forced himself to shrug, noncommittally. "Maybe, I"ll think about it."
Completed ~ 05/11/09