Disclaimer: I own nothing.

I told myself that I wasn't going to post any of the chapters of the fics I've been working on until I'm done with the entire fic. I apparently lied to myself.

Note: In this modern universe, the Arthurian myths aren't famous. In fact, most people have never heard of them. That will make sense when the time comes.

Another note: This was a High School/Coffee Shop/Merlin Has Glasses AU when I began but it has morphed over time. I don't know what it is anymore. It's still Modern... but that's about it.

Rated M for inevitable sex in the future.

Enjoy.

Merlin's last class of the day ended, and though he had work in ten minutes when Albion Coffee House was thirty minutes away from his school, he was in no hurry. He just had to find somewhere away from any people, and he'd be there in no time.

"Merlin!" He turned at the sound of Gwen's voice. He grinned at her and her smile widened. When she was closer, she said, "You have work?" He nodded. "And you're getting there…" She looked around, leaned in, and then whispered, "You know. With…"

"Yeah," Merlin said, keeping from rolling his eyes. Yes, magic was illegal and she had to be careful about where she said it, but it would probably be less suspicious if she had just said it rather than looking around like she had a guilty conscience. It was also funny that she felt the need to ask every day, since he always got to work with magic.

He hadn't told her about his talents. She'd figured it out the moment they met, nearly four years back, when she tripped over something and Merlin instinctually caught her before she would have likely broken a bone or two. It was lucky it was her he accidentally saved, because if it were any other stranger, they might have turned him in. But Gwen only decided he was an all-around decent person who was worth being friends with, if he would risk his own safety to help someone he didn't even know. Now they were both in their last year of high school and they'd been through almost everything together.

"You should just get a car, Merlin," she said reproachfully.

"Then I would have to get the later shift. You know as well as I that I need the money. Mum just doesn't make enough on her own. Don't act like you don't understand that."

She nodded. She was in the same place. She and her brother had worked alongside their father for years, so he could get more done and thus make more money. Neither of their families were well-to-do, but they managed.

"Would a half hour kill you though?" she asked, sounding less sure of herself.

"Probably not," Merlin said. "But I do everything I can."

"I just don't want you caught. You know the reward Pendragon offers for any word of sorcery."

Merlin did roll his eyes this time. The town he lived in was positively medieval, the way it was run. Even Ealdor, which was much smaller than Camelot, had been less strictly governed. There was a single man in Camelot that controlled everything, and if you wanted to get anywhere in town or in the surrounding towns, you had to do it through him. His men were everywhere, for the sole purpose of searching for magic. Merlin was starting to wonder if Pendragon didn't control half of England by now. It was all money and status, not him deserving the power. The mayor of Camelot was a friend, all the businesses in the area were invested by him somehow…

Merlin missed Ealdor. While magic still was frowned upon, like it is in many places, it was at least legal. But his mother got Merlin a position at Camelot High, which was a rather prestigious place, and a job, and wanted him to go live with an old friend of her's, Gaius. He sent her money when he could, because he knew she needed it. She meant well sending him to Camelot, so he didn't complain.

When he graduated, he could leave. Maybe go to London, where magic was used freely. Who cared what the Great Dragon said about his destiny being here? What the hell was a destiny, anyway? Kilgharrah always had his own reasons for saying the things he did. Even if the dragon was almost an old friend to Merlin, and one of Merlin's only connections to his late Dragonlord father, he was certainly a self-serving creature.

It was ironic, how Camelot made magic illegal, but it wasn't until Merlin moved here that he truly learned to understand his powers, both through lessons from Gaius and through the wisdom of a certain dragon. A dragon which dwelled underneath the city itself, locked in by Uther Pendragon. Uther thought he could control the creature, but being stuck in one place did not mean he was powerless. Because Merlin found him.

If Uther hadn't have kept the dragon there, Merlin wouldn't be able to learn from it. He was obviously far too sure of himself. It was probably suicide to say it, but he privately hoped that someday, that arrogance could make Pendragon lose his hold on Camelot so magic could be used freely. It wasn't any specific animosity towards the man… but was it so much to want to be free to be himself?

Merlin was lost in his thoughts, to the point that he had gone through the next half an hour of his life on auto-pilot. He didn't remember saying goodbye to Gwen, or travelling to work in a wink with a spell he got from a book that Gaius had lying around, or dressing in his apron, but there he was, cleaning one of the blenders at Albion Coffee House. The shop was small and in the evenings, only he and Lance worked. It was never busy in the evenings. They'd get customers, sure, but there might be hours at a time when nobody was in the shop at all. This was one of those times.

Other than Gwen and Gaius, Lance was the only one who knew about Merlin's magic. Merlin hadn't told him, but he hadn't obviously shown him like he had with Gwen either. Lance just had this sort of… intuition. He was an interesting fellow, both a jock and a nice guy, both nauseatingly attractive and uncommonly kind. Needless to say, Merlin and Lance were quite close from working together for so long.

So when Merlin shook his head and looked to Lance, he smiled. "Merlin, you always have your head in the clouds."

"The clouds are more interesting than the blenders, I guess."

"Yes, I suppose they are."

Merlin went to spray more Windex on the plastic lid on the blender, but it was caught. He whispered at it in an old tongue and tried again. It worked. While he was at it, he took off his ridiculously thick (both the rims and the lenses) glasses and cleaned them too.

Lance chuckled, and only then did Merlin realise he was still standing there.

"What?" asked Merlin as he put his glasses back into place on his nose.

"With all the power you seem to have, it seems a waste to use it on faulty Windex bottles."

Merlin looked at Lance more seriously. He looked around, making sure the shop was still empty. The only person there was a boy from their school, named Gilli, who often sat in the corner and did his homework. He hadn't gotten a drink yet because he didn't let himself until he finished one assignment. He wasn't likely to hear Merlin from over there, so he said, "You remember meeting that dragon underneath the town?"

"It would be hard to forget a thing like that, Merlin."

"He told me… well, he told me I have a destiny. That my magic will have a use someday."

"And what is that destiny?" asked Lance.

"I don't know. Kilgharrah has an obnoxious need to be vague all the time. He just told me that I will make England a better place, and that I can't leave Camelot until I've accomplished that."

Lance's eyebrows knitted together. "Have you thought of leaving?"

"Sometimes," Merlin admitted. "I mean, there are places in England where I can use my gifts freely."

"Places? You mean London? That's about it, at this point."

"There's more than that, farther south."

"Barely," Lance replied. "Pendragon is powerful, and his fear of magic is spreading. It seems every few months, another city is outlawing it."

Merlin honestly didn't pay much attention to politics like that, but he suddenly decided maybe he should. If what Lance said was true… maybe Merlin would have nowhere he could be himself by the time he finished school.

Merlin's mouth set in a frustrated frown. "What's he got against me and my people anyhow? What did we ever do to him?"

Lance sighed. "I don't know. But hey, maybe that's your destiny that the dragon talks about. Making Pendragon see reason."

"Right. Like a Pendragon could ever see reason."

"Hey, his son isn't so bad. We were on the football team together." Lance used to be on the team, but now he worked and didn't have time for training.

"Oh, yeah, calling him a footballer makes me think so highly of him."

Lancelot raised an eyebrow and said, without any real venom, "I'm a footballer. Well. Have been."

"Well, yeah," Merlin agreed, "but you're an exception to the rule."

"You don't really know any of them, Merlin." Again, he didn't really sound angry. Maybe a little disappointed, which was worse. Like Lance never thought Merlin could be so prejudiced. "Don't be so quick to judge."

Merlin shrugged. He only didn't know them because they didn't let anyone near them. Merlin had really only seen the backs of their heads anyway, so what was there to like. He knew Lance because he worked with him, but they didn't hang out at school. That's just the way it was. High school could be very archaic, if you got right down to it. There were the elite and the commoners, and they just didn't mix. And the most elite of the school was Arthur Pendragon, none other than Uther Pendragon's own son. Merlin had never seen him, not really. Merlin was in the honors courses and Arthur wasn't, and there was no other place for them to interact. So if Uther was King, Arthur was prince. See? Archaic.

Merlin was lost in his head again, because when he was going to respond to Lance, he was already by the espresso machine, wiping down the counter.

"Don't be cross with me," said Merlin timidly.

Lance looked up with a kind smile. "Merlin, I'm not angry. It's just that you're one of my very good friends, but so are the football guys. I wish you didn't dislike each other."

"What, they talk about me?"

"Well, not you in particular."

"So they're a bunch of prats, just like I said."

Lance was looking at Merlin disapprovingly again. "They just don't get to know anyone outside their own social circle, and thus say things even when they have no proof to back it up. Which is the same thing you're doing right now. They're no worse than you."

Lance didn't say it unkindly and didn't mean to offend, but still Merlin felt like it was a slap to the face. Lance was such a good guy, hearing him say something like that about you hurt.

"I've got to take out the recycling," said Lance, and he went out the door with some boxes.

Merlin stood at the counter, looking at the spotted gray and black counter thoughtfully. Merlin had never thought of himself as judgmental. But was he?

Then, like fate itself was listening into his pondering, a boy walked in. He vaguely recognised him as someone who went to his school. Specifically, as a footballer.

And then he looked over at the boy sitting and doing his homework. Gilli was tall and gangly, much like Merlin. Merlin had never paid him much mind, other than to make him coffee, but now he watched the scene that unraveled before him.

"You should really eat more, you know," said the boy who had walked in, who was blond and bulky. "Girls don't much like the rail-thin look."

Gilli paid him no mind.

"Hey, I'm talking to you," barked the blond boy. Merlin's curious look turned into a glare.

"Excuse me," Merlin said pointedly. "Can I get you anything?"

"No," the blond said, not turning to Merlin. Merlin walked around the counter as the blond said more insulting things to Gilli.

"Excuse me," Merlin said again. "I won't let you insult our customers. I'd be happy to make you a drink, but otherwise, I'm going to have to ask you to leave."

The blond finally spared him a glance, his eyes a piercing blue that made Merlin's stomach inexplicably roil. The scowl on his lips was so hateful, however, that Merlin didn't have time to pay the sensation much mind before he was glowering himself.

"Do you know who I am?" asked the other boy threateningly.

"Sure I do. You're a big, fat prat."

Merlin said it before he realised he said it. Sure, he'd have no problem saying it any other time, but he was at work. He couldn't say that when he was working. He could easily get fired for it. But he couldn't take it back now. His pride wouldn't let him apologise when the boy so obviously deserved the title.

The blond's look of hate grew fiercer, to the point that if Merlin were less thick-headed, he might have considered that he was in real danger. The other boy stepped closer. "How dare you speak to a Pendragon that way?"

Merlin's stomach dropped out his arse. He half-expected to see a mess on the floor where he shat it out. This… this was Arthur Pendragon. A boy who easily had the power to ruin Merlin's life. One word to his father and Merlin might get expelled. Merlin had already said enough to lose his job—without Arthur complaining to his daddy, either. If he didn't go to Camelot High and didn't have a job, he'd have no reason to stay. He'd have to go back to Ealdor.

But wasn't that better than here anyway?

But Kilgharrah's words came to him. You have a great destiny, young warlock. You need only the patience and wisdom to discover it.

He had to stay in Camelot. This idiot footballer could destroy everything.

But that didn't make the thought of apologising any more attractive. So he just glared, his fists squeezed together at his sides.

A hand clapped onto his shoulder and he almost jumped. It was Lance.

"Merlin," he said warningly.

"He was harassing a customer," Merlin said mechanically.

Lance looked at Arthur, who surprisingly looked a little timid. Maybe Lance made everyone feel inadequate, even the great Arthur Pendragon. "Arthur, you can't do that. I won't allow you to stay if you're here to be cruel to our other customers."

It wasn't so different from what Merlin had said, but this time Arthur just looked down, a little ashamed for half a second. Then he looked up again. "Yeah, okay, maybe I was out of line, but this—this kid just called me a prat! And he works here."

"Merlin," Lance said again, but this time he just sounded exasperated.

"I have half a mind to talk to the manager of this place and report him," continued Arthur.

"Hey, Arthur, don't do that—" Lance said.

"But," continued Arthur, "I suppose I could forget to mention this to the manager or my father… at a price."

Surely the price would be something pretty horrible. Maybe he and some of his footballer friends would beat him up.

But Merlin had to stay in Camelot. For his destiny's sake.

So he sighed. "Alright. What do you want?"

"Come to the locker rooms at lunch tomorrow."

Yeah. That sounded like a good place for he and his mates to beat him senseless. But still, Merlin asked, as if he didn't already know, "For what?"

"Come and I won't tell anyone about this," Arthur continued. "Don't… and my lips won't stay sealed for long."

"Arthur," Lance cut in, but a glance from Arthur was enough to shut him up too. Merlin couldn't blame Lance either. He had this… this look. Like his word wasn't to be questioned. He had a hard time imagining anyone trying to defy the boy. Well, other than Merlin himself. He was hard to shut up.

"Do you agree or not?" Arthur said.

Merlin kept looking at Arthur, thinking about all the things he could do to Arthur. He could take the whole football team, if it came down to that.

And did he really have a choice?

So Merlin nodded once, and Arthur turned on his heel and left.

It took Merlin a long moment to even speak, he was so angry. "Why did he even come here if he didn't want a drink?"

"Merlin, that was stupid of you," scolded Lance.

"He was being a prat and I told him so! How was I to know he was Pendragon's son?"

"Because everyone knows that," inserted Gilli. "But… for the record, I appreciate you cutting in." Merlin's eyes caught movement in his peripherals, and he looked down to the table, where Gilli was fiddling with a ring. There was a symbol on it… a symbol of the Old Religion. "But I could have dealt with him without you getting yourself into trouble."

Lance could be trusted, of course, but Merlin didn't want to out a fellow sorcerer, so he just said, "Yes, I'm sure you could have. But I wasn't going to let him be mean in my shop."

"But it's not your shop," said Lance. "And you could still get fired over this."

"I'll go meet him at lunch tomorrow. It'll be fine."

"Don't go, Merlin," said Lance.

"What, I thought the footballers weren't so bad," said Merlin with his eyebrow up.

Lance looked at the ground. "They… they have some growing up to do. Arthur especially. But there's good in him that you can't see at first glance. He just…" Lance sighed. "I'm afraid what will happen if you go."

"But I can't afford to get kicked out of Camelot High, or fired from my job. So I don't have any other options. Don't forget that I'm not useless. I'll be okay."

Lance sighed again, and he gave a chuckle that held no mirth. "I hope for your sake that you're right."