Only Two Tragedies (3/4)

[ifeelbetter]

Title: The Only Two Tragedies (AU + WIP 3/?)
Author: ifeelbetter
Rating: PG-13 (for the presence of alcohol—shock!)
Pairing: Merlin/Arthur, slight Gwen/Lancelot
Word Count: 2,033
Disclaimer: Don’t own, won’t ever. It’s all a lie.
Summary: Merlin is a young British artist living in New York but has, of late, lost his inspiration. While he’s looking for his missing spark, he winds up challenging Arthur, wealthy son of a PR mogul, to a drinking competition and ends up winning himself a less-than-willing model.
Notes: Um YES. So when I said I would update in a timely manner? I may have ACCIDENTALLY lied. Lied in a big-ol'-whopper-of-a-lie kind of way. And, if anyone is still interested, I am DEEPLY sorry. Also--do you know who's awesome? rheashan is awesome. Cuz she beta-ed for me. First time for her, first time for me. Watch out, world. I may be going pro.


Gwen came back sometime in the early evening full of patter about her day's research and, being that she was the kind of girl who could find a rainbow in a pile of manure, was able to entertain Arthur for a full hour more with stories of famous Shakespearean flops and debacles. She was finishing up the tale of a rivalry between two companies that led to riots across Boston that had Arthur nearly crying with laughter when Merlin finally decided he'd had enough for one day.

"So I guess the artist's block is a thing of the past then?" Gwen said, seeing the rough sketches that had overflowed onto the floor around Merlin's feet.

"A bit, maybe," Merlin said sheepishly. "Don't want to jinx it, though. It's only been a day."

"Right." There was something entirely too knowing in her gaze that had Merlin shifting uncomfortably under it. He hated it when she knew more about him than he did.

"Right," he agreed, for lack of anything else to say.

"I take it I'm free?" Arthur said, stretching.

"As the breeze," Merlin said.

"God, I need a shower."

Gwen wrinkled her nose. "Yeah, you kinda do." Arthur scoffed.

"It's a musk, is what it is. Manly."

"Well, I can agree that it definitely smells like man. Like a smelly man."

Arthur grinned at her as he pulled his phone out of his pocket. "Well, since my prettiness is no longer required here, I must go put it to use elsewhere." He stood, stretching again. He'd been in jeans a T-shirt all day, more casually dressed than Merlin had ever seen him before. And the shirt had been that well-worn sort, the kind that has learned to stretch across the well-muscled chest and a bit around the arms, and it suited Arthur better, in Merlin's opinion, than any of the button-downs. And if the jeans slung a bit low...well, Merlin wouldn't fault them for it.

"Yeah, with great pretty comes great responsibility," Merlin agreed. "Go save some kittens."

"I wouldn't dream of putting my pretty to such mundane use," Arthur said with that rakish grin again. Merlin followed him to the door and found himself standing awkwardly in the half-open door, half feeling like he was ending his most prudish date ever and half feeling like Arthur might have metamorphosed into a close friend in a single afternoon.

"So," he said, leaning into the door. Of course Arthur just smirked over his shoulder, totally at ease.

"So. Bright and early tomorrow?"

"Must it be bright and early? Can't we pretend that the morning begins at noon?" Merlin wheedled.

Arthur grinned. "You won the bet, you set the time." He started to turn again.

"I'll make you coffee," he blurted out. Arthur paused and Merlin stammered on, "You know. To save you from the evil machines."

"Thanks."

"Yeah, well. I do know my way around coffee beans."

"Yeah, you do." Arthur grinned again and was gone. Merlin stood somewhat stupidly at the door for another moment, listening to the footsteps as Arthur climbed down the eight floors.

"Bugger."

Gwen laughed behind him and he hurriedly shut the door.

"'Gwen, how can you possibly think he's good looking? He's such a prat!'" Gwen said in her best Merlin-fake-British imitation.

"You're very funny."

"That was you, right? You were the one who went on and on about how terrible Arthur is? And who played 'Fit But You Know It' as an illustration of his point?"

"You're hilarious, really. I'm laughing on the inside."

"I would mock you for having theme songs for the people in your life--"

"He's hardly a 'person in my life.' He's my winnings, that's what he is."

"--buuuuut, I think I'd rather mock you for wanting to have his babies." She grinned. "Given the choice, of course."

"Nobody asked you. And I don't want to have his babies."

"You're just dying to tell me how dreamy he is, though, aren't you?"

Merlin sighed. "God, he really is, though."

And he threw a nearby pillow at her when she burst out laughing again.

----------

Arthur downed a shot of tequila to applause. It was a usual Saturday night, out with the boys. It felt odd, almost, after such a strange day to be so normal. He'd feel this tomorrow, no doubt, and he'd only been out for a few hours. His heart wasn't in it, despite the loud thumping music and raucous laughter around him. He found his mind drifting and his eyes wandering. They stopped wandering with a jolt when they ran into a guy with blue eyes and dark hair, staring back.

He grinned. The guy drank from his beer, letting his bottom lip linger on the rim of the bottle. And damn if Arthur wasn't sold the moment he saw those eyes.

It wasn't too long before Arthur had him on the dance floor and was pressing a sloppy kiss into the crook of his neck, groping for a handhold in unfamiliar territory. The guy kept grinning -- the wrong grin but close enough -- but he looked up at Arthur and suddenly he knew that whatever it was he wanted, it wasn't this. He mumbled a half-assed apology, pushed the guy away, and nearly ran out of the club.

When he hit the cooler air of the meat-packing district and felt cobblestones under his feet again, he felt like he was on slightly firmer ground.

It was the art thing, that's what it was. It's the fucking bohemian nonsense that just doesn't apply to the real world, right? Arthur kicked at a cobblestone, feeling it ought to take some responsibility for how abysmally his night was progressing. He told himself that real men don't have (almost have, if he was being truthful) one night stands with twinks in clubs, especially not ones that remind them of fucking painters. Because that was pretty gay.

Which was the problem, for the most part. Arthur had messed about before, who hasn't? He did have a sense though that messing around with friend in college was different from picking guys up in clubs. Or mooning after painters.

God, when did he become a trashy romance novel?

He kicked the cobblestone again for good measure and his stomach growled. He looked around for the nearest food and groaned.

Of course he was standing outside A Salt and Battery, the only authentically British fish and chips shop for miles. Of course he was.

That was the last straw, after all. The universe could get off his case, as far as he was concerned. He pulled his phone out of a pocket and picked the number within seconds.

"Hey, Soph. What are you up to?"

------------

Arthur was a mess the next day when Merlin let him in, at least forty-five minutes late. He looked vaguely sheepish but mostly pompous.

"When are we going to be done with your little," he waved a hand condescendingly at the sketchpad in Merlin's hands, "project?"

"When I say we are. I won the bet, I set the time, right?"

Arthur rolled his eyes. "Fine. Get on with it." He flopped onto the sofa again but pulled his phone out and started pressing buttons.

"Are you five? Sit still," Merlin said, grabbing the phone out of his hands. "Or you won't get this back." Arthur gaped at him.

"You took my phone."

"Yes."

"You can't take my phone."

"I think I already did."

"Well, give it back."

"Sure," Merlin said, beginning to hand it over. When Arthur reached out for it, he pulled it back again. "Oh, wait. No, I don't think I will give it back. I think I'll keep it."

"You can't keep it."

Merlin rolled his eyes. "Look, just sit there and be quiet. Can you manage that?"

Arthur raked a hand through his hair and pulled his pretentious, super-expensive sunglasses off. "Fine. But I get my phone back when you're through with me today, alright?"

"If you're good."

"Yes, mother."

Merlin let that one pass and concentrated on his drawing. Arthur was a completely different sort of model today, though: a godawful one. He fidgeted, he shifted, he generally made Merlin's day wretched. An hour in, it was clear that Arthur would not sit still, no matter what Merlin threatened.

Merlin threw his arms up in defeat and declared that they were going to the park and Arthur could run off his energy in the dog park.

It was early afternoon still and Merlin knew that Gwen sometimes took a lunch break in the Park, considering it a substitution for going to the gym, which she never did anyway and so the substitution was on a purely theoretical level.

Park with Arthur. He won't sit still today. Grumpy too. He texted her.

PMS? came her reply within seconds.

Meet us there, pls? I don't want to kill a millionaire's son.

Alice. In an hour or so.

Merlin grinned as he shut his phone. Morganna had left for Boston before Arthur had even arrived or he would have begged chaperoning out of her as well, wishing he had her ability to shut Arthur down but settling for Gwen's pleasant sociability. If she couldn't charm Arthur out of his foul mood, he didn't know what could.

As he shoved the phone back into his pocket, it began to vibrate. And sing 'You've Got a Friend In Me.' Arthur's eyebrows rose as they left Merlin's building.

"Gwen's fault again," Merlin explained as he answered the phone, not bothering to check who was calling, "Hello?"

"Merlin? It's Lancelot. From the other night--well, day as well." Merlin grinned, completely forgetting Arthur for the moment.

"Lancelot, wonderful to hear from you, mate. You anywhere near Central Park?"

"I could be, I think. Still getting used to the subways, you know."

"It's like swimming, you just have to jump in. Do you think you could find the Alice in Wonderland statue within an hour?"

"Yeah, sure. It's totally in my guidebook."

"Throw the guidebook out, mate, Gwen and I will show you the sights. Meet me at Alice in an hour. Oh, and Gwen too."

Lancelot laughed and agreed and Merlin ended the call as they approached their subway stop. He stopped in his tracks as he remembered Arthur and why Lancelot and Arthur were not a good mix. Arthur had been glowering for the entire conversation with deepening intensity.

He sheepishly grinned and scratched absentmindedly at the back of his head. "Oops," he said.

"Oops, indeed," Arthur grumbled.

"I swear I'm not being subterfugeonous, it's just--"

"That's not a word."

"Isn't it? Subterfuge-y? Subterfuge-ish?"

"None of those are words."

"But you know what I mean!"

"I really don't because you're not speaking English."

"I meant," Merlin insisted, grabbing Arthur's arm as he hurried ahead of him, "that I wasn't trying to make you hire him or anything. He's just... nice."

"Nice."

"Yeah, nice. And you're--" Merlin trailed off, gesticulating vaguely.

"I'm what, exactly? You'll have to use actual words. In English, if you don't mind," Arthur said, turning suddenly and facing Merlin. They were on the subway platform by this point, packed in by the sightseeing throng. Merlin was keenly aware of the fact that he could feel Arthur's breath, he was that close.

"I don't know. You're something. And yesterday, you were so... well, I just forgot, alright? I forgot," Merlin stammered.

"Right. Forgot."

"I did! Because you were so normal and decent yesterday," Merlin said, finding himself getting angrier as he spoke. It must have been anger, at least, because of the way his pulse was racing and his face was turning, he was sure, bright red. "Even if you're being a complete plonker today, I thought you weren't actually, you know," he said, trailing off again, "all that bad. On the whole." He watched Arthur's face. "All things considered."

Arthur's face had changed while Merlin was speaking but he couldn't exactly pinpoint the emotion it had settled on. It just seemed to be the same as his normal expression but with softer edges.

"Not all that bad?" he repeated.

And then their train arrived.