Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

"Okay, there he is.", Merlin whispered, leaning over to nudge Morgana with a bony finger.

Morgana was not impressed - or maybe she was, seeing as how she choked on her drink. "That's him? The guy who's been occupying your wet dreams? The royal-pain-in-the-arse blonde who's dad hired you on the spot? The one who made you get him coffee three seperate times because it wasn't chocolate-y enough?", she asked, squinting.

Merlin just hums happily, lovestruck.

Morgana sighs as Gwen - on her other side, sharing the DJ booth - pokes her in the ribs with her fingernails. "Fine, fine. Just...go." The dark haired woman waves a ring-bedecked hand at the dance floor, and Merlin gives her a dopey grin before nearly tripping down the stage.

And he's doing fine, has the butterflies in his stomach settled so he's pretty sure he's not going to throw up on his boss-slash-wank-fantasy, before "Peacock" by Katy Perry starts blasting out over the speakers.

"Dammnit, Morgana, what part of 'be subtle!' don't you understand?", Merlin grumbles to himself. She's lucky he knows the words to it, and that the routine he has planned goes along okay with it; otherwise, he might just be obliged to tell Gwen who had really 'borrowed' her concealer.

All thoughts of possible revenge go out the window, however, when Lancelot starts his introduction - curtain time...

"Ladies and Gentlemen - you're in for treat tonight! We've got the Warlock doing our first show..."

Chapter Text

As loud as the crowd could be outside of The Den, as they all called the back area behind the stage, the noise was always more concentrated inside of it.

Namely, this time, when Merlin made his way back in, plucking out ones and the occasional five, it was because Elyan and Gwaine were running around, frantically throwing aside articles of clothing and shouting at each other.

"Well I don't know where it is!"

"Oh, great, so what, we have to be mismatched?"

"I can just not wear mine, you lummox!"

"You will wear that goddamn thing if I have to shove it up there, you know the crowd always likes them, and rent's due next week!"

"...What.", Merlin muttered, squinting confusedly at Leon until he laughed, quietly, and explained with a sweeping motion at the two.

"Elyan can't find his tail, for the tiger thing they do. They're up after Percy.", the curly-haired man stage-whispered. The two - who were now flipping over the small couch in the middle of the room in search of the prop - apparently heard him, for they turned to see who he was talking to.

"Merlin!" Elyan's face lit up as he spoke. "Help us look, will you? You're good at finding things."

"Right Hufflepuff.", muttered Gwaine, running a hand through his hair - friendly, but frustrated.

Two minutes later the tail, only slightly the worse for wear, was found, and the two rushed off for their show when Percival sauntered back into The Den, Morgana following behind him. Merlin grabbed for a blanket to cover up with, but she cast him an amused, disinterested glance.

"Oh, please, Gwen has bigger at home." Merlin glared and pulled a pair of sweatpants on, Percival snickered from where he was changing unashamedly in the back, and Morgana rolled her eyes. "Also - my dear, you have horrendous taste in men. I think you broke his brain. If he can't handle your work, I wouldn't give him the time of day."

"He can handle my work just fine.", Merlin countered, crossing his arms.

"This work. Reading your sheets of numbers and making some sense out of them is what he does for a living. Anyone could do it. But this takes skill.", she nearly purred. Merlin wondered if she'd been talking to Kilgharrah again, and why he hadn't tried to light her on fire. (Kilgharrah had a liking for fire, but that's for another time.)

"He's good at his job.", Merlin found himself protesting. "I mean, he's a prat, don't get me wrong, but he's a prat with a head for numbers."

"Mm." Morgana looked amused, but Merlin couldn't figured out why, and from experience he knew he probably wouldn't like the answer, so he didn't ask. "Well, if you want to go talk numbers with him, or snog his head off, I believe Gwen and Lance have him cornered for you by the bar."

Was it sad that he almost vaulted over the couch with just a pair of sweatpants on to go see his boss?

Probably, Merlin decided. Still...

Worth it.