Chapter Text
Rollin up the black apron Arthur deposited it by the old man's hands, “There, shift done. Now lets get to tonight’s main event.”
Gaius raised his head ever so slightly, “Before you do, go and grab my nephew from up there,” he motioned to the back section of the pub; although it was only up a few of steps most regulars seemed to think that constituted too much exercise, hence the fact the main area was buzzing where as the ‘snug’ was dead. Well apart from one shadow lurking in the distance.
The younger man sighed, “Why do I get the feeling this isn't as simple as it sounds?”
“Because nothing with our landlord ever is.” Pausing mid pint Gwen laughed to herself, her face lighting up, all soft and gentle.
Returning to absent-mindedly scanning the local paper the white haired man could be heard to mutter under his breath, “Sulking over something as simple as me adding his name to the team list, what is the youth of today coming to?” Before motioning to Arthur, “Go, go.”
Five steps felt like a different world, the lights dimmer and the ceiling height reduced, it took a while for Arthur’s eyes to adjust before the previous shadow took human form and there he was retreating into the furthest corner of the leather clad bench seats, all emo hair and spider limbs, looking to Arthur as though he wished he could be any where else other than here.
“Hell.”
He mouthed it, so faint Arthur was positive he had misheard.
“Hell.” A little louder, a little more confident.
Shit! Did he just read my mind? Arthur had a second of unadulterated panic, surely not, some gangly teenager could not do that; could they?
His doubt must have shown on his face.
“This place is worse than hell.” The boy sought to clarify.
Arthur lent against the banister for support and let out a sigh of relief. It had been a throw away comment.
“Heaven knows why my Mum thought it’d be a good idea . Go and help your uncle Gaius Merlin, get out of this village for the summer Merlin, make some new friends Merlin. Well I was doing just fine on my own thank you very much.”
Clearly it didn't matter to the lad that Arthur hadn't made any attempt to engage him in conversation, oh no he was to keep going anyway.
“But would she listen? Would she as heck a week later my bags are packed and I'm shoved on a train to God knows where and end up, first night, stuck in a pub being press ganged into joining their darts team for what I can only assume is the foreseeable future.”
From his vantage point Arthur could literally see the fury build, yet instead of it being a worry he couldn't help but be endeared; with each breath this boy, Merlin, sprung into life, his gestures losing their constraints and becoming wild, uncoordinated. Yet a gust of wind would knock the fellow down; there was no real threat of violence.
“Darts I tell you. Do I look like a darts player?”
Arthur went to answer but never got the chance.
“No. And there’s good reason for that. I don’t play. Haven’t even picked up one of those arrow things in my twenty one years of existence…”
OK, not a teenager, my mistake.
“ Wouldn't know one end of a dart from the back of a bus. Although I might have a better chance of hitting one of those than that board with all it stupid colour coded sections, I mean have you seen the size of them.” His hands took a break from their wafting to try and mime the concept of tiny, “I could do it, oh I could. IF I WAS STOOD RIGHT NEXT TO THE BLOODY THING.”
Half the pub paused mid conversation to see what all the fuss was about before deciding it wasn't worth their energy.
“And just to top it off I can’t drink a pint to save my life.”
Arthur laughed. Out loud.
“Won’t be so funny when a big twenty stone,” Merlin lowered his voice, “mother fucker,” before returning to rant volume, “cops an eye full of my half and has me pegged as a Nancy boy.”
“Are you?” The words were out of Arthur’s mouth before he had time to think.
“No.” Too fast a reply, like it had been drilled into him from an early age.
Arthur stared.
“Yes. But that’s besides the point. What was I saying?”
“Big mother fucker and all that.”
“Oh yes, so he catches on and tells his even bigger mate and bam what do you know for the rest of the night I endure a living nightmare. That’s if I make it out in one piece, which having met half this team is highly unlikely. I can see the headlines now, ‘Darts player impaled on oche by own side.’
Pondering how to play this Arthur ventured, “Highly unlikely, I don‘t think it‘s possible to be run through with an oche, besides they’re far to valuable to waste on your scrawny arse. How would the Neanderthals know where to stand at the next match?”
“By the chalk outline of my body.” Deadpan delivery, even if the corners of his mouth wanted to betray him as indicated by their ever so slight twitch, “Answer me this, which twenty something in their right mind actually wants to play darts.?”
“Me.”
“Oh!”
“I was coming to let you know the mini bus will be here in five minutes.” Glancing at his watch Arthur corrected, “Is ready to go now. Your choice. Come or don’t, doesn't bother me.”
Much.
Because of course Gaius might appear to be a foolish old man who wouldn't harm a fly but looks could be deceiving, forty years in the pub industry had taught him well and Arthur knew better than to return empty handed. At least that was his story and he was sticking to it. Nothing to do with those fluttering eyelashes.