[Fic] A Train From Nowhere Brought Us Home, Chapter 3

[jayeinacross]

Title: A Train From Nowhere Brought Us Home [Chapter 3]
Progress: WIP
Rating: PG (this part)
Pairing/s: Arthur/Merlin (main, future), other minor pairings
Warnings: None (this part)
Word count: 1408
Summary: Modern AU. Arthur and Merlin first meet when they're waiting for the train on a rainy day, and that's how it all starts.
Disclaimer: I don't own these characters, the BBC does.
A/N: Sorry I didn't post this when I said I would, but here it is, albeit a little late. 4th chapter probably won't be up for a while. So much schoolwork to do, sorry.

Chapter 1
Chapter 2

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“Merlin?” Gaius says, eyebrow raised, as Merlin bursts inside. “Is that you?”

“No, it’s a pod person,” Merlin replies sarcastically. “Of course it’s me, who else would it be?”

“Well, it’s just that you’re not usually early,” Gaius said. “In fact, you almost always late. Why are you early?”

"Was out to lunch with Gwen and some friends," Merlin replies vaguely. "Got a cab here."

"Merlin, you can barely afford to pay your rent, let alone waste money on a cab." Merlin sees the beginnings of what Merlin secretly calls the 'Eyebrow of Doom' arising. 

"I didn't pay for it," Merlin mutters. "Arthur did."

Oh, no, there it was. The Eyebrow of Doom. "Arthur? I presume both Gwen and Morgana were with you for lunch."

Merlin nods.

"So would this be Morgana Le Fay's adopted brother, Arthur Pendragon? The son of Uther Pendragon?"

Merlin nods again, wondering warily whether this is a good thing or a bad thing. He's going for bad.

“I didn’t know that you knew Arthur Pendragon. Why didn’t you tell me?”

Merlin shrugs. “I just met him on a train once. I didn’t even realize that his father was Uther Pendragon until he told me, and I don’t even really know who he is anyway.”

“Merlin, you must be careful. Uther Pendragon is a very powerful man. He may be a businessman, but he has many powerful contacts, some within the government, and he is very, ah, close minded, you might say. If you are going to become friends with Arthur, you must be careful.”

After a few moments, Merlin finally understands what Gaius is trying to tell him.  

“You mean he knows about magic?”

Gaius nods solemnly. “He has a bit of a history with magic users, and he despises them. You must be very careful.”

“Wait, how do you know that Uther has something against magic?” Magic was not a public thing. The majority of normal people had absolutely no idea that magic even existed. It wasn’t common knowledge. “Do you know Uther?”

“I was once quite close friends with Uther Pendragon,” Gaius admits. “I still maintain contact with him, actually. He asks for treatments for old injuries occasionally.”

“But you’re magic too!”

“Yes, Merlin,” Gaius says patiently. “Uther knows that, but he overlooks it, fortunately. However, he most likely would not approve of a magic user becoming friends with his son. If he were to find out, you might be in a lot of danger. Maybe it’s best not to see Arthur again.”

Merlin shrugs and says, “Well, he is a bit of a prat. I’ll be careful, anyway,” and tries not to think about how sick he feels when he thinks of never seeing Arthur Pendragon again.

“Merlin,” Gaius begins warningly, but then a customer walks in and Merlin takes the opportunity to slip away into the back room and start sticking price tags on tins while Gaius is distracted.

It’d been true what Merlin had said to Gaius; Arthur was a bit of a prat, as well as a little bit arrogant, and too ridiculously attractive for his own good, and very aware of that fact. Merlin tries to convince himself that he definitely does not find Arthur's crooked-teeth grin and his slightly odd pairing of a button-up shirt and jeans endearing.

It doesn’t really work, and Merlin finds himself pulling his phone out of his pocket, scrolling through his contact list, and just staring at Arthur’s name and phone number. Gaius walks in after a while, and Merlin snaps it shut – and yes, he has a flip phone, and yes, it’s a bit gay, as Gwen’s told him often enough, but that doesn’t really matter, because he’s about 70 percent gay anyway – and tries to look like he’s just working innocently, but Gaius still gives him his suspicious Eyebrow of Doom and tells Merlin to go and buy some sticky tape.

When Merlin finally gets home at nine, he scarfs down some leftover Chinese takeaway then collapses on the couch and is halfway to falling asleep when his phone rings.

Merlin frowns at the thing that’s vibrating obnoxiously on the coffee table showing an unidentified number on the screen. He picks it up, flips it open, and says warily, “Hello?”

“Hello,” a female voice chirps. “It’s me, Morgana. How was work? Did you get there on time?”

“Oh, hey,” Merlin says, a little confused. “Yeah, I did, Arthur got me a cab...”

Morgana, for some reason, giggles. “How nice of him. So, do you like him?”

“Who, Arthur? Yeah, he’s actually quite decent. Still a bit of a prat, although I s’pose it’s a package deal.”

“Oh, yeah. Prat-ness comes included, unfortunately. You just have to remind him that he’s an idiot and try not to flatter him too much though, otherwise I don’t think he’d be able to fit his head through doorways.”

Merlin laughs out loud at that. “Mm, I’ll definitely keep that in mind.”

“Anyway, I’ve got to go. I just wanted to see how you were going.”

“Thanks, Morgana.”

“Oh, and Merlin?”

“Yeah?”

“Call Arthur sometime. He’s too stupid to do it anytime soon, so it’ll be best if you put him out of his misery sooner rather than later.”

“Um...okay?”

“Thanks, love. See you later.” And with that, Morgana hung up, leaving Merlin a little confused. Merlin shrugs to himself after a moment. Maybe their family is just strange, even if Morgana is adopted. It wouldn’t surprise him, honestly. He’s spending time with too many strange people today. Arthur and Morgana are one thing, but that old man from the cafe is on a completely different level.

The phone call from Morgana’s woken Merlin up a bit, and now his brain is working, and he decides not to go to sleep just yet. Instead, he moves to what’s supposed to be the dining room; it’s the biggest room in Merlin’s small apartment, and he’s converted it into his studio. There’s a plastic sheet fitted over the wooden table; Merlin knows he’s a messy artist, and he really doesn’t want to have to pay to replace the table. There’s newspaper strewn all over the floor as well, blotched with bright splatters of paint, and Merlin has to be sure not to drag his feet while he’s in the room.

He wants to paint a dragon, because it reminds him of Arthur. He paints it in red, because he thinks red would suit Arthur. He paints the dragon with a golden glow around it, because the colour of his magic is gold, and he wants more than anything to show Arthur his magic. He doesn’t think he will, though. Arthur probably doesn’t even know that magic exists; Merlin doubts that Uther would have wanted him to even know about it if he hated it that much, and even if he did know, there’s no doubt that Uther would have taught him that it was evil.

Merlin finds himself hating Uther Pendragon already.

 It’s late when Merlin finally finishes, past midnight, and he’s happy with his artwork. It’s very detailed, every scale shining, every fold of the leathery wings of the dragon visible, and there’s the blue of Arthur’s eyes in the dragon’s own irises. He sits back in his and chair and stretches, yawning, then stands up and leaves the canvas on the table to dry and goes and collapses into bed. He’s glad that he’s the next day he’s got an afternoon shift again, not a morning one, because no doubt he’d be too tired to function properly in the morning.

He’s tired, but he doesn’t sleep yet. Instead, he stares up at the ceiling, his eyes flashing gold for a moment, watches the glowing specks of light he’s just summoned float around, and thinks about destiny.

What that man in the cafe had said, it was strange, completely insane, of course. Did he say that sort of thing to everything? But it couldn’t have been a coincidence. When Merlin was younger and feeling incredibly alone, his mother had once told him that he’d one day find the other side of his coin, someone who he’s meant to be with, someone who would love him and accept him, magic and all. He can’t help but hope that that person is Arthur. Maybe it’s just wishful thinking, but there’s something about Arthur Pendragon that makes Merlin want to hold onto him and never let go.

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Chapter 4