2

 Morgana looked gleefully in his direction as he slumped in his chair, trying to disappear underneath (difficult, as his legs were stupidly long and hit the underside of the table before any sort of cover could be provided).

 

 "Yeah," Freya drawled out, pulling out the plug to stop the cheering (or 'wailing' if you listened to Freya. Which was a bit unfair really, considering the type of music she blared out in The Shop). "Could you fix that sometime soon, do you think?"

 

 Merlin pouted, crossing his arms petulantly. They were the ones who wanted him to get to know the coffee machine in the first place.

 

 ---

 

 

 

 ---

 

 Stopping mid lick, Merlin patted his newly acquired Optimus Prime (comes with a happy meal! Collect all 4!) through the canvas of his bag and tugged on his black and white checkered scarf. With the hand not occupied by the lolly (orange cream), he tucked his phone into his back pocket. Merlin liked Transformers, as well as lollipops. He even worked in a shop and wore scarves and converses and there was that one time he fell asleep on the train and the other commuters mistook him for a homeless person (awkward).

 

 He sighed and idly resumed his sucking, twirling the stick with his hand and making the hard lolly rattle behind the top row of his teeth. It was one thing to have self indulgent daydreams about being the person people wrote in about to the 'ThunderStruck' column in the Camelot Times, because everyone did that and it was completely normal. He'd have to be three types of vain and pretty delusional to declare himself Bar Guy candidate #451 on the DriveThru website (which was hilarious, because it's like Spartacus the movie on that livejournal community that — um, that he has no idea about at all).

 

 Besides, by the very definition of 'Bar Guy', he needed to have yelled at Penn in a bar and thrown a drink in his face and called him names his mam would not approve of. Seeing as Merlin was sure he would remember such a thing happening, which he did not, logic dictated the probability of him actually being Bar Guy was, oh, pretty much slim to none? He shook his head free of foolish thoughts (others milling in the park thought him suffering from an attack of invisible bees) and marched resolutely to the park's exit. What were the odds of that happening, honestly?

 

 And what was Penn wearing again? Sunglasses and a trench?

 

 Very discreetly Merlin looked around him (he managed to stumble at one point, also very discreetly) but spotted nobody wearing sunglasses (it was the evening) or trench coats (it was an evening where people gave the cold a one fingered salute).

 

 What he did spot, surprisingly, was Morgana striding very purposefully towards him from the direction of the public loos.

 

 "Hullo again, finally got away from the girls did you?"

 

 As far as Merlin's greetings went, he thought that one was quite well constructed. Therefore, he almost lost his lollipop to the dirty unforgiving earth when she replied with, "Lovely to see you again Merlin. You like cock, correct?"

 

 "Um, is that the sort of thing you normally ask somebody you've just met?" He could feel the flush creep up from his shirt collar (but it was successfully covered by his scarf; not that it did anything to hide the dead giveaway that was his ears).

 

 Morgana simply took that as an admission of guilt and nodded to herself, arms crossed over her chest. "I thought as much. You haven't looked at my breasts once."

 

 Which wasn't fair at all, because once they were mentioned, Merlin was compelled to look. Morgana moved her arms downward as if to help him along (which he was inclined to be polite about, and thank her for being so accommodating, but it seemed a bit greasy and yuck so he restrained himself).

 

 "Um, they're lovely?" Merlin offered squeakily, on the spot and more awkward than usual (which was saying quite a lot).

 

 "You don't think it's a bit too much?" Morgana asked, now also looking down at her low cut top and fiddling with the bust line. A couple walked past, and Merlin was vaguely aware of at least one of them staring at Merlin and Morgana both staring at the Morgana's cleavage, as there was a sound of a slap followed by something about sleeping on the couch. Merlin, for the most part, judged them to be scary and possibly scheming to eat him once his back was turned.

 

 "I guess they're— they provide the right amount of modest...ness and... allure-ification?" he managed weakly. He suspected that he may have sounded a bit like a mouse towards the end there (if mice talked about breasts that was, in their mice language. What was the mouse equivalent of sleeping on the couch anyway?) Also, he suspected it wasn't even a real sentence with real words, though he hoped Morgana wouldn't notice. He urgently felt the need to sit down and take apart his Optimus Prime. He could give Optimus some cool roller skates (that was a lie. Roller skates were not cool, not even robot roller skates).

 

 "That's very sweet of you Merlin. Come sit with me." She stalked over to a bench and folded herself into a seating position, legs crossing and one hand in her lap, tapping the space next to her pointedly with the nail of her index finger, making reverberating tinny sounds on the cheap plastic.

 

 "Okay." Merlin readily complied, grateful to be seated after just being outed in a public park frequented by chavs and drug dealers and possibly chav drug dealers with knives. Yes. Very good. He only just managed to curb the urge to take out his Transformer (he sat on his hands).

 

 Then, without so much as a by-your-leave, Morgana unleashed a torrent of questions not unlike an interrogation (and just like in the cop shows, he had no idea if he was incriminating himself just by humoring the scary lady). Some of the following questions were asked (and badly answered):

 

 1. Do you like blonds?

 2. What if they're really rude and stupid?

 3. Seen any rude and stupid blonds lately?

 4. How tall might someone have to be to date you?

 5. Would you consider making Gwen and Freya your personal stylists?

 6. Would you say that football takes up a good chunk of your time?

 7. What team do you barrack for?

 8. Wait, what team?

 9. Seriously?

 10. Well, at least you don't have a criminal record, right?

 11. Are you more impressed by defined abdominals or by tight glutes?

 12. How attractive do you find strong jaw lines?

 13. Would you be inclined to like stupid blonds if they had a strong jaw line and a lot of money?

 14. A lot of money, as in 'the potential to buy you small islands' sort of money.

 

 "That's not a question!" Merlin was finally able to declare, triumphant but bewildered. "Why are you asking me all this anyway?"

 

 "But would it matter?" Morgana pressed, digging her manicured nails into his jeans. "Would it, Merlin!"

 

 Merlin just wanted to make it stop. It was like being stuck on the phone with a telemarketer, but there was no option of pretending his house was on fire and hanging up.

 

 "I-I guess? I don't know if that would be important or not Morgana, I've never dated someone obscenely rich before!" He neglected to say that he'd never really dated anyone before, but frankly, that was really sad and he'd rather claim debilitating sickness and run away than admit to it. However, Morgana's (heavily lined) stare nailed his arse to the bench. He may or may not have eep-ed.

 

 "Come on Merlin, it's not that hard. If this alright-ish looking blond bloke wanted to buy you a lot of pretty shiny things, would you be averse to that?"

 

 "You do know I'm not a girl right?!" Merlin squawked. But Morgana was glaring at him still which was horrible and terrifying and he was beginning to panic. The throes of his turmoil sounded, oddly, like the theme to Mission Impossible. He hadn't known that his inner flailing had such cool theme music. Of course then he realized that the music was actually playing outside of his head, and he leapt at the chance to distract Morgana from making him answer awkward questions with the power of her glare (she looked the type to be very good about taking calls. Actually, she looked the type to be very good at everything, ever). "Are you going to answer that?" Merlin asked.

 

 Morgana gave him a look that said 'stop stalling', before pulling her phone out of her pocket. "It's not mine."

 

 Whilst their 'conversation' had been taking place, most people had fled the park for the comforts of their own well heated homes (the weather had seen their one fingered salutes, and raised them a chilly, south-easterly wind from Antarctica). Therefore, if it was neither Merlin's phone that was ringing, nor Morgana's...

 

 Merlin cocked his head to the side. There was mystery afoot! "Where's it coming from?"

 

 Without waiting for a response, Merlin got off the bench and set off to investigate. The phone had probably been dropped by somebody going through the park on their way home. Morgana very helpfully called out, "Check behind the bushes!" from where she still sat on the bench. She seemed to be fiddling with her phone.

 

 "Yeah," Merlin replied absently, looking about on the ground as he circled the bench. "They've probably just realised they've lost it... Maybe calling and hoping someone will pick up."

 

 "Oh yes," Morgana agreed. There was a sound of silky fabric sliding, as Morgana crossed her legs the other way. Thankfully for his sanity, Morgana did not look inclined to help look for the wayward device, instead smirking at something past his shoulders as Merlin came to a stop in front of her. "That is probably exactly what has happened."

 

 He looked around, moving away from the bench. There weren't many places to investigate: a bin, a lamp illuminating the public toilets next to another bench a bit further out, and beyond that the trees and shrubbery where the wildlife of the park resided. The ringtone had already stopped, but Merlin was fairly certain that it must have come from behind the loos (which wasn't at all dodgy, Merlin thought wryly). A couple of stray cats yowled from behind it, and darted out into the trees. Not looking forward to answering a phone that stray cats had probably put into their mouths and chewed on, he rounded the corner.

 

 There were a few cigarette butts, a couple of beer cans and, rather alarmingly, a pair of kids' binoculars. There was, alas, no phone. Hmm, Merlin thought. The strays have either taken the phone with them, or eaten it.

 

 As if proving his more probable hypothesis correct, the ringtone started playing again, this time from the trees and shrubbery. Merlin headed towards the greenery slowly, body curled in slightly to appear less threatening (unlikely though it was that any part of Merlin would inspire fear).

 

 "Here kitty kitty kitty," Merlin sang out (there was no reasoning behind that really, it was just the thing to do. No groundbreaking research proved stray cats were more likely to respond if being sung to). No cats emerged from the brush, although there were other creatures that did check to see if he was some sort of singing predator (what were ducks doing in the trees anyway?) The closer he came to the trees, the more excited the animals seemed to get.

 

 There is an awful lot of rustling going on back there, he thought. He crept up quietly, intent on making as little noise as possible.

 

 

 

 ---

 

 The sudden dull thud that sounded just behind him almost had him jumping out of his skin (and he might have emitted a sound only dogs could hear, but he wasn't going to own up to it and the dogs were almost certain to keep his secret).

 

 Merlin whirled around, whipping out his arms in front to defend himself against... a rock. Huh. He lowered his arms slowly, in case the rock decided to attack anyway. He was fairly certain that rock hadn't been there before.

 

 "What on earth...?" He kicked it with the toe of his converses. It did not sprout legs and jump him, so he kicked it some more.

 

 Merlin looked back to see if Morgana knew where the rock had come from, and found that during his forage into the bush, Morgana had made a friend. A tall, broad, scary-looking-from-behind friend. She looked none too pleased either. Deliberating between weird animals in the park that had rock slinging powers versus perhaps some sort of mugging happening right in front of him, Merlin opted to leave the wildlife for now and head back to the bench (although, he was pretty sure Morgana wasn't going to be the one coming out of an encounter like that worse for wear anyway, should anything untoward actually happen).

 

 "Is there a problem?" he asked, approaching carefully. He really wished he had his Toast Launcher right now.

 

 The stranger turned and gave him a broad, open grin beneath a fuzzy beard. "Hello!" Then he performed some sort of complicated coughing manoeuvre, and more gruffly repeated his greeting.

 

 "Hi..?" Merlin said warily.

 

 "I'm—" And he coughed again. "I'm Leon Knightly," he said scratchily.

 

 Merlin surmised that Leon had a nasty cold, and debated stepping backwards, but decided not too because he would look like he was afraid (or worse, rude). He really hoped Leon wasn't contagious.

 

 "And what are you doing around here Leon? Don't you live far, far away from here?" Morgana asked snippily and with obvious familiarity (thank goodness for that. Merlin was certain that he was not able to take Leon's broad shoulders and muscled arms in a fight that didn't involve remote controls).

 

 "Just um. You know." He coughed again, poor sod. "Looking for you."

 

 Merlin looked at the knowing glance Leon tossed at Morgana, and the returned pointed stare and defiant posture, one pointy nail tapping a staccato on crossed arms.

 

 Oh. Ohhhhhhh.

 

 "Well," Merlin said chirpily, hefting his bag back onto his shoulders and shifting uncomfortably. "I'll um, I'll go look for that phone and leave you lovebirds to it then shall I?"

 

 "No!" They both shouted, prompting Merlin to sit down on the bench very quickly. He didn't like being shouted at by formidable women and grizzly men who were twice his size.

 

 "I'll—" Leon cleared his throat. "I mean, Morgana and I will go find it. You sit right here."

 

 The unsaid 'where I can see you and you cannot make passes at my girlfriend' went duly noted, which Merlin communicated with a manly nod (he also would've tried to communicate 'I'm gay and quite frankly, your girlfriend is scary and asks a lot of embarrassing questions', but was afraid it would only make the situation worse). There was a half minute more of the couple staring at each other with various eyebrow movements, before Morgana reluctantly lifted herself off the bench and grumbled at Leon as they disappeared behind the trees. Merlin then politely turned his attention towards his iPod and ignored whatever noises were emanating from their general direction (sort of shout-y and rustle-y, like clothes being— well, anyway, he wasn't listening).

 

 He was so good at distracting himself in fact, that he almost jumped out of his skin again when Leon clapped a hand on his shoulder (his skin did not appreciate that at all. It rather liked housing all his innards).

 

 "Come on then," he said, voice penetrating through his earbuds, strangely deep and gruff (did the cold get worse due to the activities behind the trees?) "Let's get a drink."

 

 

 ---

 

 

 

 "How long is this campaign of misery going to last Penn? You've gathered all this information, you're spamming the blog twitter widget thing constantly — are you actually planning on doing anything with it?"

 "I ask the questions around here Dusty! When are you going to get rid of all that bloody fuzz on your face?"

 "Oh, um. Never."

 "And that's what she said, Drivethru fans."

 "Clever, Penn."

 "And don't you forget it. Anyway, this is why I've opened the lines. What do you think I should do, Drivethru fans? Call through with your suggestions!"

 "You mean you really haven't thought this through?"

 "I mean, that I will take suggestions on board and use them to flesh out my own, undoubtedly well thought out plans."

 "I really just can't see this ending well."

 "Nonsense! Nothing about this could possibly end badly for me."

 "I meant for me."

 "Well. That's just a bit selfish."

 "Pot calling kettle, etcetera. Hello Linda, you're on the line."

 "Hi hi! I've been following on the widget thing, but you haven't told us how good looking he is! If he's cute, you should totally ask him out for a drink!"

 "That doesn't really... Sound like much of a strategy for revenge to me Linda."

 "But thanks for calling in. What about you Tom, what do you think? Tom?"

 "You there Tom?"

 "Must've lost him to some other radio show that's actually law abiding. What about Robert? What's your advice for Penn?"

 "Well I think you should pay people to go up to him and tell him like, douchebags wear scarves."

 "Oh! That's actually quite a good one Robert, I'll keep that in mind. Sarah?

 "Hey guys, love the show!"

 "Thanks Sarah, you got anything to share?"

 "Oh yeah! I was thinking you could drive him crazy by leaving him cherry flavoured lollipops. Those things are revolting!"

 "Could be a little hard to achieve, don't you think Sarah?"

 "I trust in Penn's creativity."

 "Well thank you Sarah, so do I!"

 "Thanks for calling Sarah. Next we have Elizabeth on the line. Hello Elizabeth?"

 "Good evening gentlemen."

 "Why, good evening to you too milady. Have you any advice you'd like to share with Penn?"

 "Yes I do. I've two grown boys, and let me tell you; when they were young, their idea of courtship was pulling pigtails and pushing girls into the mud. I'll tell you what I told them: that is not the right way to win someone's affections — and if you're going so far as taking creepy photographs it is perhaps time to get some— some balls and do something about it."

 "Well said Elizabeth, thanks for that."

 "Drivethru fans, I'm beginning to worry that we're not quite on the same page about this revenge business."

 "On the contrary Penn, I think you are the only one who hasn't caught up to where the rest of us are yet."

 "Don't try to be witty with me Dusty, I will cut you."

 "Ooh, quivering in my boots Sire."

 "No sarcasm either."

 "Why don't you outlaw fun while you're at it."

 

 ---

 

 As they headed into Merlin's local pub, Morgana started smiling something horrid.

 

 "Is... something funny?" Merlin asked warily. They three of them spied a free booth opening up, and rushed to claim it. Well, Merlin and Leon rushed, Morgana strutted very purposefully and glared at anyone who appeared as though they were thinking about moving in on it.

 

 "This is just where I first saw you the other night." Morgana said, elegantly falling into the cushy seats. "You don't remember, Merlin?"

 

 Before he could try to do just that, Leon very loudly proclaimed that a drink was in order and slid beside Morgana, leaving Merlin to fetch the first round and give them some alone time. He took the familiar walk up to the bar where Heath greeted him impishly, taking his order.

 

 "Not trying to pick up guys at the bar tonight, hey Merlin?"

 

 Merlin gave him a crumpled look. "Heath, I don't know what you're talking about."

 

 Heath shrugged, and made some further comments about drowning rats and toilets but all Merlin could do was nod and try to look like he knew what Heath was on about. While he was waiting for their order at the bar, he turned back to inspect the two sitting at the booth. Morgana had put her hand where (Merlin assumed) Leon's thigh was (though for some reason Leon was glaring at her with a pinched look on his face). They looked to be in furious conversation, and Leon would twinge occasionally (what a trooper, coming out even when he was obviously feeling sick). He was about to head back when he noticed Lancelot heading towards the feuding couple. Morgana looked surprised, and Leon got up to pat him on the back, offering him a seat. Merlin signalled Heath for another glass and carried the pot back carefully.

 

 "Hullo Lance. How do you know Morgana and Leon?" he said, carefully unloading the jug and glasses on the table.

 

 "Oh, we wor—"

 

 "Work together." Leon interrupted. For some reason his voice was free of cold (and sort of familiar sounding?). He must've eaten a throat lozenge.

 

 "At Mercia?" Merlin inquired, taking his place next to Lancelot. "All of you?"

 

 "Mercia? Mercia. Yes. Where we work. All of us." Leon replied. Merlin blinked. Even though his voice had gotten better, he was obviously still delirious and ill.

 

 "I don't know about that." Morgana cut in.

 

 "Yes you do. Because Arth— I. I will take you shopping. And I will pay for it." Leon and Morgana exchanged long, lingering looks.

 

 "Then I suppose I do work at Mercia." Morgana said finally, pouring herself a pint.

 

 "What do I get for working at Mercia then?" Lancelot asked, looking on amusedly.

 

 "A salary." Morgana and Leon said in unison (well, Morgana said 'a pitiful salary', but still. Scary couple's telepathy!).

 

 Merlin hid his smile behind his beer. Leon and Morgana seemed made for each other, though they were probably prone to fighting, breaking up and getting back together. He obviously wasn't able to draw this conclusion from personal experience, but he had (been forced to) read a few old Cosmopolitans in the GP waiting room. As the night wore on, Merlin was able to share a few of his own work stories with the Mercia crew (none too exciting, but Morgana, Leon and Lancelot had a bit of trouble weaving a story together between the three of them that didn't confuse Merlin considerably regarding either location, people involved or even where equipment was placed in their studios. Maybe he just had to be there), including the odd bloke who came in last week.

 

 "What do you mean by odd?" Leon asked abruptly. Throughout the course of the night, Merlin still had this niggling feeling that he knew Leon from somewhere. ("Must have one of those faces." Leon had replied, voice gruff once again. Merlin had given him a throat lozenge and pitied him for having to deal with a perpetual cold).

 

 "Well um, at first I thought he was a shoplifter, because he kept skulking behind the racks where I couldn't see him? Anyway, he was a bit shorter than me, blond—" And here he was experiencing some deja vu from the park, but he quickly pushed those thoughts aside. Leon looked at him intently, so he kept going with his tale. "But he didn't look like he was browsing. It looked like he was waiting for me to walk out the back, you know, so he could steal things. Come to think of it, Freya did mention some guy loitering outside the other day— um, anyway, I walked up to him and asked him if he needed any help, and he wouldn't look at my face, so I thought hang on, he's really very shifty."

 

 "Absolutely. Should have called the cops on him. I urge you to do that next time," Morgana wisely advised.

 

 Lancelot took more of a humanitarian's view. "Maybe he was a bit shy?"

 

 "Um," Merlin vaguely remembered some rather good looks and a confident walk. "No, he didn't look the type..."

 

 Morgana whispered something to Leon that made him laugh. She then motioned Merlin to keep going.

 

 "Well, I was going to keep an eye on him, so I was rearranging stock near where he was standing when he just took a whole bunch of shirts off the rack, all different styles and different sizes, and went up to the counter to pay for them. I asked him if he wanted me to get him the ones in his size but he just muttered something about 'needing a lot of shirts ok, is that a crime?', took all the shirts before I could bag them, and then left! It was like, reverse kleptomania! Instead of stealing a whole bunch of things he didn't need he decided to buy a whole bunch of things he didn't need. It was very strange. Maybe he needs some impulse control?" Merlin took a sip of his beer. "Good sales figures for that day though." He remembered that because both girls had patted him on the head before he left. (He had been both touched and offended. What was he, a dog?)

 

 "Obviously crazy," Morgana said decisively.

 

 "Maybe he was thinking about how to come on to you, but panicked and fled?" Lancelot said, eating a pretzel. Merlin looked at him balefully, then confiscated his pretzel bowl.

 

 "Not you too," Merlin sighed. "Look here, even if he was gay, he did not look like the sort of guy who would want to go out with me."

 

 "That's not true Merlin," Morgana placed a hand on his wrist. "You're lovely."

 

 And Merlin appreciated the thought, he really did, but Morgana was with Leon, and she was wearing relationship tinted glasses spurred from her own exceptionally lovey-dovey thing with Leon, and had become some sort of matchmaking madwoman who accosted people in parks, trying to figure out which one of her mates she could set them up with. She was so nice, wanting to share the joy of being in a happy relationship with everybody else.

 

 He popped his hand on top of hers. "You're a very nice person Morgana."

 

 Leon and Lancelot sounded like they were choking into their drinks (backwash, ew).

 

 Then Morgana started to ask Merlin about his car preferences (Aston Martins? Bentleys? Maseratis?), at which point Leon tapped his (fake? Fake right?) Rolex and loudly declared the evening over. As they stood up to go and Morgana went off to powder her nose, Merlin couldn't resist asking, "do you know the guy she's on about?"

 

 Lancelot and Leon looked at him, then at each other, then back at him, pensive. Then they looked towards the ladies toilets, and put up their hands in surrender. "We've been threatened under pain of death that we're not to tell."

 

 At which point Merlin started to feel a little concerned. He patted his Optimus Prime for courage.

 

 ---

 

 

 

 ---

 

 'Well, that settles that,' Merlin thought, brushing his teeth for bed. He knew he wasn't much fun to look at. He smiled ruefully at his plain reflection in the mirror and patted his face dry, turning off the light and clambering into bed. He smothered his face into the pillow and massaged his chest, willing his mind to clear of silly thoughts. Of course he wasn't Bar Guy — he'd already done the math in the park! Stupid hope receptors in his stupid brain. His alarm clock rolled away from his thrashing until it bumped into Optimus Prime, standing tall and proud and all save-the-world-from-Merlin's-stupidity like, at which point it decided it had run far enough and promptly collapsed into itself. Merlin turned off the lamp and set his iTunes on his sleep playlist.

 

 'Of course it's not me,' he thought drearily. He lay through three Imogen Heap songs before falling into a fitful slumber.

 

 ---

 

 

 

 ---

 

 Merlin quickly x-ed out of the page (why had he set that as his homepage anyway?) and logged into his student portal. After his foolish assumptions the week before, Merlin decided he would not be furthering the madness any longer. He needed to do lots and lots of schoolwork and earn lots of money to pay for bills and things and not— not have idle daydreams about being the target of an internet manhunt!

 

 To clear his mind of his first world problems, he had gone to visit his mam on the weekend. It had been lovely, except for when his mam brought out the pictures of all the nice boys she had bumped into at Tescos.

 

 "Aren't they a bit young for you mam?" he had said, pausing mid slice into his roast beef. "I mean um, you go get them! You uh, new age, independent woma— um, cougar you."

 

 She had patted his hand fondly as she passed him yet another slice of home made bread. "Oh my lovely, daft boy, they aren't for me. Although I'll be very content to look at them about the house once you've decided on one."

 

 She had pushed the mash to one side and sidled over to show him the photos she had taken on her iPhone. "Now how about this one?" she started gleefully. "His name is Tony and he's got a double major in economics and history and a lovely, spacious penthouse in Moria! He also has an ear fetish! Doesn't he look like a naughty boy, Merlin?"

 

 There was a time when he had thought no harm could come of teaching his mam to use new technology. He mourned that innocence daily. Also, he decided he would never introduce his mam to Morgana.

 

 He fled his mam's house after dinner to go visit Gaius, only to be invited to eat the older man's signature porridge. Suddenly remembering something he had to do with Will, he ran for it.

 

 "Mate, I was going to get with a girl tonight you know," Will had grumbled, setting out the blankets on the couch. It was a blatant lie, Merlin could tell. Will was three kinds of hung over and was in no condition to woo anybody, let alone convince a girl to take her clothes off for him.

 

 "Just her panties is enough! Jesus, what kind of bloody complicated sex are you having Merlin? Oh that's right, you're not having any."

 

 "You're a wonderful friend Will. I cherish our friendship."

 

 "Yeah whatever. Just don't make any loud noises and flip the cushion over to the side that doesn't have any stains alright?" Then he had stumbled off and crashed on the kitchen table.

 

 He looked at the couch in a horrifying new light and opted to sleep on the floor. (But really, there was a high probability no place in that flat was untarnished).

 

 Prior to boarding the train back to the city the next morning, he had popped back by Gaius' in time to avoid another helping of breakfast porridge.

 

 "It's not going to kill you!" the physician had roared.

 

 "I'm not taking any chances," Merlin had grumbled, and gave Gauis a big hug to placate him. The old physician had smacked the back of his head before crushing him a bit too tightly about the ribs.

 

 "Now off with you," Gaius shooed him, suspiciously rough sounding. "And don't forget to ring your mam when you get back! She's driving us insane!"

 

 Merlin scampered off, hoping Gaius was using the royal "us" (it works that way doesn't it?) and really meant that his mum wasn't going up to random strangers in the supermarket telling them about her beloved son that has forgotten about his poor mam now that he's living in the city and would they be on the gay market by any chance and like to see some pictures?

 

 He plugged in his earphones as soon as he hopped onto the carriage, and settled into a seat next to the window. He had intended to take out Pride and Prejudice and Zombies to keep him company on the ride home, but vetoed the idea two minutes into the trip when his head decided the window had properties not unlike a comfortable pillow. He promptly fell asleep, as his night as Will's was not very restful (even thinking about what could have transpired on the bit of floor he had deemed a safe enough sleeping area had kept him up most of the night. Meanwhile, Will snored peacefully on the kitchen table, bloody bastard). He was awoken sharply after an abrupt stop and start, and surreptitiously checked himself for drool (scarves were very handy for that chore if need be). He was at Moria station, about fifteen minutes away from where he needed to get off, so Merlin decided to tough it out and stay awake.

 

 He stretched out bonelessly, turning his neck and hearing the satisfying cricks as he yawned. Sliding back up his seat, he met the very blue eyes of the girl sitting across the aisle. He smiled politely and she returned it.

 

 "Do you want one?" she asked.

 

 "Want what?" he enquired, tilting his head a little sleepily.

 

 "A lollipop." She started to unwrap one, offering it to him. "To match everyone else."

 

 Merlin blinked. He took the offered stick gingerly, and looked around the carriage. There were a lot more people on board than when he'd fallen asleep (which made sense because he had gotten on at Ealdor, basically at the end of the line) and there was something peculiar they all had in common.

 

 Skinny jeans (black).

 

 Converses (also black).

 

 Checkered Scarves (mostly black and white, with a few daring individuals venturing into red territory).

 

 The train was full of extremely similarly dressed youths, of which Merlin blended into seamlessly. He wondered if there was some sort of convention somewhere, or if an internet event was taking place in the carriage, like the world record for most people in a train carriage in skinny jeans eating lollipops (kind of weird, but hey, Guiness).

 

 "I love the DriveThru, don't you?" the girl said around her lollipop. And now that he had been made aware, he noticed that she was also done up in converses, skinnies, and red and black checkered scarf around her neck. "I hope Penn gets his man. It's so romantic don't you think?"

 

 Merlin nodded, confused but not willing to upset the locals with his ignorance. The Drivethru? Were Penn and Dusty doing a broadcast from the carriage or something? Before he could ask her to elaborate further the girl had already moved on.

 

 "By the way, those are some fantastic blue contacts! Much better than mine. Where'd you get them from?"

 

 By the time he had to get off at Castle station, he still hadn't convinced her that they were his actual eyes.

 

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 Merlin was bagging another scarf and another military jacket when he noticed something familiar-looking poking out of the customer's Hungry Hungry Hippos canvas bag.

 

 "I've just finished reading that! Not as good as the original, but I'm really looking forward to Natalie Portman as Elizabeth," he said as he handed the customer his hands, smiling. "Enjoy the rest of your day!"

 

 The customer sneered at Merlin, sniffed, then strode out of the store. Merlin's jaw dropped.

 

 "What was that all about? I was just being nice!"

 

 Freya stuck her head out of the break room and asked, "What's this about Natalie Portman? Is it that rubbish book you were reading aloud to us last week?"

 

 While Freya and Gwen had been busy working on a new design (and thus communicating to him in grunts and monosyllables as they toiled over their fabrics and patterns) he had decided to read them Pride and Prejudice and Zombies, because if he had to talk at them, there may as well be copious amounts of groaning zombies involved.

 

 "I don't care about her Chinese lineage!" Freya had whined, taking in the pant leg of the coveralls closer to Merlins calf, again. "And stay still, or so help me I will prick you to death."

 

 "That's what he said," Gwen had muttered on his other side.

 

 When the girls were exhausted, Freya would start hurling abuse and Gwen began to make innuendos (bad ones, yes — but for Gwen to utter such filth was on par with that scene in Sense and Sensibility, the one with the whole "oh my, he's touching her ankle, oh the indecency of it all!" stuff, which, by the way, he was forced to watch repeatedly while being in coverall prototypes at the girls' flat the night before. The horror, he could not have begun to explain).

 

 "It's meant to represent another set of class distinctions," Merlin had begun to explain, but Freya had shushed him very loudly and Gwen had started to laugh uncontrollably at the word 'class'. The girls had worked well into the night, while he had planted face first in the cast off fabrics pile in front of Alan Rickman's face. Then the terror began anew when his shift had begun that afternoon. The girls entrusted Merlin with minding the till all by himself as they sequestered themselves in a sewing frenzy, holing up in the tea room and taking the biscuit tin hostage.

 

 "I mean, it's absurdly popular at the moment. Loads of kids at uni are reading it," Merlin shouted from the register, frowning slightly. "What's his problem?"

 

 Freya merely grunted, picking stray threads out of her hair. Then Gwen came out bearing the finished product (dark green coveralls with loops for a faux tool belt in orange and 'slave to the wage' stitched in cursive on the front, to be worn over a grey hooded t-shirt) and the incident was forgotten as the girls proceeded to spend the rest of his shift playing dress up with their favourite Ken doll (otherwise known as Merlin).

 

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 The problem with having a lot of time on your hands and living in the internet age was, sooner or later you was sure to became some sort of facebook stalker. Facebook was clearly managed by hell's minions, filled with temptation and mindless spamming and flash games that took too long to load. Temptation, in this instance, presented itself as the gorgeous display picture and several photo albums of one Arthur Pendragon, who,

 

 1. Had blond hair

 2. Was (sort of, it looked like) friends with Morgana

 3. Had been that strange customer with a spot of reverse kleptomania

 4. Was possibly outrageously rich and, most importantly,

 5. Way, way out of his league (as in, it was not even possible to see the parking lot of the stadium from where he was standing).

 

 And Merlin told Morgana so, when (for some inexplicable reason) she was blocking his way into his own bathroom.

 

 He had come staggering home in the coveralls to see Lancelot and Leon parked on the sofa, four glasses of wine out on the coffee table (he loved that Lancelot was such a considerate soul). The two had been in an unusually chatty mood, asking him about his day, about his plans for the week, and if he were German, would he want to eat Paul the traitorous World Cup predicting octopus? Merlin had to beg off after that, wanting to wash his face of shop, and maybe change his clothes (they smelt a little of the pile of fabric in Freya and Gwen's sewing room, but mostly of shop), which led him to the bathroom that Morgana was unknowingly blocking him from. The beautiful woman stumbled a bit (must be the combination of stilettos and wine), bracing herself on the doorframe of his en suite.

 

 "I know what you're doing Morgana." he said, slightly accusative.

 

 Her voice wavered. "Y-You do?"

 

 Merlin then remembered his manners and helped her back to the sofa, telling her sternly, "You can't set me up with your friends. And you might want to take it easy on the wine, it's only eight."

 

 "Merlin! Wine loves me!" she admonished, gracefully oozing onto the sofa, pulling him down beside her. "What's this about then?"

 

 "I have a horrible dating history," he lied. "Also I saw your photos on facebook and hyperventilated a tiny bit. Please don't match make me."

 

 "How about we talk about this some more down at the pub?" Leon growled out, wringing his hands together meanfully. Right, no sitting close to Morgana then. Merlin inched away slowly.

 

 "Yes, let's go down to the pub, Merlin. Call Gwen and Freya and ask them to come out too, we'll make a night of it," Lancelot added. Merlin narrowed his eyes at his roommate.

 

 "Oh no, mate. We've got to have some words about that." Merlin would have continued, if not for Lancelot's guilty retreat to the kitchen with the wine glasses and Morgana's firm grip on his arm.

 

 "No, none of that. It's Friday night, let's go out and have a drink," she urged.

 

 "Yes, at the pub," Leon reiterated, standing up.

 

 His unsteady trek home after being manhandled for two hours by Gwen and Freya (they obviously didn't learn to treat their toys with care growing up) made the idea of walking anywhere else, even to the pub, seem like far too much effort. Merlin gave them a tired smile. "Um, actually, if it's all right with you, would you mind if we stayed here? It's been a long day."

 

 "Oh, well," Morgana and Leon looked at each other lustfully (their lust sort of resembled panic, but that wouldn't have made much sense so indeed, Merlin thought it must be lust).

 

 "Sorry Merlin," Lancelot said, coming back from the kitchen. "There aren't any drinks left. We shouldn't be staying in like boring old sods on a Friday night anyway."

 

 Merlin wasn't good at saying no, especially when being outweighed three to one. He heaved a sigh and got up. "Alright then, let me just wash my face and wake myself up."

 

 "No!" Morgana and Leon shouted at him vehemently. Merlin sat down again immediately. He really didn't like it when both of them raised their voices at him.

 

 "There's no need to do that Merlin," Morgana said soothingly, coaxing him to his feet. "And something's, er, broken in your bathroom anyway." She led him to the entrance way and pointedly looked at his shoes.

 

 "Something's broken?" Merlin asked, confused as to why he was obediently slipping on his converses.

 

 "Yes. The um—" Morgana began.

 

 "Soap dispenser." Lancelot said helpfully.

 

 "Right. Soap everywhere. Frothing up from underneath the door and everything. We just finished cleaning it up for you so, don't go in there right now." Leon said with finality.

 

 Merlin frowned. He was sure he had fixed that soap dispenser after he'd tinkered with the Toast Launcher. Then again, that could easily have been the source of the new problem.

 

 "Well, thank you," he said, looking down at his shoes. The click of Morgana's scarily high stilettos went past, as did the soft padding of Leon's brown leather loafers. There were a shiny pair of black dress shoes next to his Converse-clad feet. "New shoes Lance?"

 

 His roommate paused, wriggling his sock clad toes. And then started to slip into them. "Yes, yes they are. Excellent observational skills Merlin."

 

 "This is all nice and well folks, can we get a move on to the pub now please?" Morgana asked with a hint of impatience from the hallway outside. Merlin quickly took a step out, not wanting to get shouted at again. Lancelot was still putting on his shoes.

 

 "Got your keys right Merlin? I'm just going to leave my keys right here. In the blue bowl next to the door," Lancelot yelled out, shutting the door in a needlessly violent fashion. Merlin wished Lancelot would treat their shared flat with more care. He would have told him so, but was too busy trying to get rid of the loud ringing noise in his ears caused by Lancelot's hollering and door slamming.

 

 "Lance, I am right here. Please don't shout at me." Merlin frowned, rubbing his ears with gloved hands. "More importantly, regarding your behaviour towards Gwen..." And he proceeded to chastise Lancelot on his way with the ladies, especially one who roomed with Freya, who was rather vocal about the almighty power of woman, the evil of strangers and the eviler evil of drug lords all the way to the pub.

 

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 "Up to your old tricks again I see. Just make sure the drinks go down your throat and not on someone's face, alright Merlin?" Heath told him, tilting his chin in the direction of Merlin's booth as he slid over the second jug of the night. His friends were all drinking hard, Leon and Morgana