Work Text:
Escort /’eskort/
Verb. To accompany (someone or something) somewhere.
**
“Merlin, stop fussing!” Gwen chided as she fixed the impeccable black bow tie around the crisp collar of the equally impeccable white shirt. She gave her best friend a suspect look. “Are you sure Arthur is okay with this?”
Merlin nodded and Gwen raised her eyebrows, obviously unconvinced.
“Well, I would say he’s exactly thrilled,” he amended. “But, um, yeah.”
This was probably a bit of an overstatement, he admitted to himself, thinking back on the conversation in which he had casually mentioned to Arthur that he had agreed to do a one-time only (well, maybe a few times if this one time panned out all right) escort job to help EES, the company Arthur moonlighted for, which, it turned out, was short on escorts for a high society charity event that upcoming weekend.
The client was new, a wealthy socialite – Lord Devon something or another – looking for a male escort. All of EES’s “benders” (those escorts who would escort women or men) were already booked, including Arthur, so Mrs. Cuthbert had called Merlin on the off-chance that he would be willing to take up the job.
“Are you serious?” Arthur had asked, giving Merlin a look that was part surprised and part something else.
“Look, I know I’m a little mishap-prone,” Merlin had defended, feeling rather self-conscious about believing that he might be able to pull off an escort job half as good as Arthur. He would never be able to do as good a job – Arthur was perfect. “But I think I can manage one evening without mishap accompanying some lord for the sake of a charity event,” he had argued. “A charity event for homeless children,” he reminded.
Arthur had quirked his lip to the side in response. “I’m not talking about your proneness for mishap, Merlin,” he had explained patiently. “I’m far more worried that this Lord Whatshisname will end up falling deeply in love with you.”
It had been Merlin’s turn to intone, “Are you serious?”
Arthur had rolled his eyes and had remarked, “Very.”
“With my propensity for mishap?” Merlin had retorted, teasing. “We’ll be lucky if Lord Whatsit doesn’t ask for a refund on the date. There’s a policy on no return fees, right?”
Arthur had smiled at him then and Merlin had felt himself falling head over heels (a cliché but nevertheless true) all over again. Arthur had then leaned in and kissed him.
“The good thing is, I’ll be at this charity event,” he had said when he had pulled back. “So I can keep Lord Whomever in my sights and make sure he’s not making a play for my guy.”
A rosy blush had settled across Merlin’s cheekbones. It had been five months since he and Arthur had gotten together and Merlin still blushed in response to Arthur’s affections. “You’re not actually jealous,” he had teased.
Merlin had genuinely been surprised when Arthur had responded, “A little,” then had said frankly, “You’re beautiful, Merlin. And you grossly underestimate the appeal and power you have to bring men to their knees. Trust me, it’s too easy to fall in love with you.” He had given Merlin a cheeky grin. “So I’ll be keeping my eyes on this lord.”
“Is Lord Devon really sending a car to fetch you?” Gwen asked, brushing what Merlin could only imagine was invisible lint from his lapels given that she had rolled a lint brush over his entire body not two minutes ago. Sometimes Gwen could be more of a mother hen than Merlin’s own mother.
He nodded. Merlin had been told that Lord Albert Devon-Abbott (that was the client’s full name) would indeed be sending a car to pick him up at his flat and drive him to the hotel where the charity event was being held. Lord Devon was a guest staying in the hotel’s premier suite and would meet Merlin in the lobby upon his arrival.
“How terribly posh,” Gwen gushed, as she often did, and gave Merlin’s tie one last scrutinizing check before sighing her resignation.
As if on cue, a sharp knock sounded at the door of their flat and Merlin answered it to reveal a straight-backed and stiff-shouldered man in honest-to-goodness formal chauffeur’s attire – uniform, hat, gloves and everything. Merlin turned to raise his eyebrows at Gwen who discreetly coughed a snicker into her hand before giving Merlin a wave and telling him to “have a good time.”
The car Devon had sent to “fetch him” with was as posh and impressive as the driver – a silver Rolls-Royce Phantom limousine. Merlin felt like Cinderella going to the ball. In fact, he had to restrain himself from asking if, by chance, the chauffeur’s name was Major. To be fair, the man did have a bit of a horse-face.
Merlin was met by the Lord Devon-Abbott in the ornate lobby of the lavish hotel. (The irony of a charity event for homeless children being held at one of the most extravagant hotels in the city was not lost on him. Merlin very much hoped the hotel participated in a progressive recycling program.) Lord Devon turned out to be a man in his early to mid forties, an inch or two shorter than Merlin, with noticeably thinning dark blond hair. For a man with a title who sent posh limos to fetch hired escorts, Lord Devon was surprisingly nondescript. Merlin suspected the man would somehow make up for it with a gregarious personality and he soon found his suspicion to be squarely on the mark.
Lord Devon eyed him from head to toe and Merlin could feel the man’s gaze lifting away the layers of his clothing. Warmth spread over Merlin’s cheekbones as the blush settled.
“Very nice,” Devon murmured his appreciation, which might have been taken as a compliment had it not been for the lecherous tone that accompanied the comment.
Oh boy, Merlin thought, was he way out of his league.
Merlin slipped a finger round the inside of his starched collar, allowing his ‘date’ for the evening to lead him toward the ballroom. Once inside, he scanned the room for Arthur. Arthur was escorting Mrs. Laura Winhaven tonight, an EES regular who had a standing request for Arthur to accompany her to social events like this one. Merlin liked Laura Winhaven. He had met her once and she was a delightful woman.
What Merlin wouldn’t do to trade places with Arthur tonight. Not that he would feel comfortable with Lord Devon ogling his man, but Arthur was more experienced at this kind of thing and could better handle himself in these situations. Merlin, however, was a fish swimming along in shark-infested waters.
Still, he wanted to show Arthur that he could do this and without incidence. Even more so, Lord Devon had promised a considerable sum in support of the children’s charity and Merlin did not want to jeopardize that by putting off the man. Merlin crossed his fingers for smooth sailing, hoping he wouldn’t have to surrender his dignity to ensure calm waters.
**
Arthur’s gaze gravitated to the spot in the ballroom where the two men had entered and his breath caught.
Merlin looked gorgeous. Not that it was any surprise to Arthur. To him, Merlin was gorgeous in a pair of track pants and a worse-for-wear t-shirt. But in a tux...that was a whole other level of gorgeousness.
Really, there was no doubt of Merlin’s attractiveness and appeal. That was, to anyone but Merlin, who seemed honestly oblivious to his natural charm and the draw factor of his long eyelashes, fantastic cheekbones, and pink bow lips. Arthur blamed this on Merlin’s inclination towards humbleness and Will. Merlin was humble by nature and could be forgiven. Will - Merlin’s ex-boyfriend who had done a number on Merlin’s self-esteem – on the other hand, couldn’t.
Arthur could tell Lord Whatshisname was already “smitten” with his young, dark-haired escort. Perhaps a little too smitten, Arthur assessed, deciding he would keep one of his eyes on Merlin during the course of the evening in case things got beyond Merlin’s control.
Laura Winhaven leaned into Arthur. “Isn’t that your boyfriend?” she asked, inclining her head slightly in the direction of the two men standing near the archway. “With Lord Albert Devon-Abbott?” She smiled. “Merlin, isn’t it?”
Arthur nodded to indicate that it was. Mrs. Winhaven was a repeat client who always requested Arthur as an escort to these social functions. Laura Winhaven was a twice-widow who had not yet even reached her fiftieth birthday and had been left with sizeable estates in the case of both of her husband’s untimely deaths. Though the rumour mill ran amok with stories of gold-digging and black widow fantasies, Laura Winhaven had always been very generous with her inherited wealth and she was, as far as Arthur was concerned, a very upstanding and classy lady. She had taken interest in Arthur, and Arthur had shared some details of his personal life with her, including his relationship with Merlin. (She had even met Merlin once when he had run something out for Arthur whilst he was escorting the lovely lady.) At the core, Laura Winhaven was a kind but lonely woman and Arthur enjoyed his dates with her.
“I didn’t realize he was an escort too,” she said with surprise.
Arthur allowed a chuckle. “Oh, he’s not,” he told her. “At least not usually. He’s filling in tonight for this special event.”
Laura patted his arm. “Merlin is absolutely scrumptious looking. I would suggest keeping an eye on him, love. Lord Devon has a reputation for being a bit of a lecher,” she warned.
Arthur nodded his appreciation for the heads-up then set his jaw, sliding a glance at Devon and Merlin, consciously trying to refrain from grinding his teeth.
**
Lord Devon had grabbed flutes of champagne for each of them when they first arrived and Merlin made an effort to sip his slowly because any kind of wine went straight to his head and he definitely needed to keep his wits about him tonight. Devon was already on his third flute, fluttering through the crowd with his escort in tow, kissing cheeks and making superficial small talk with other socialite benefactors. He introduced Merlin as his “gorgeous and charming date for the evening” and Merlin blushed each time one of the ladies (and two gentlemen) cooed in agreement and appreciation.
It wasn’t long before Merlin felt a warm palm on his behind, a gentle caress, giving way to a hearty squeeze. Lord Devon was feeling up his butt! It took every ounce of Merlin’s resolve not to squeak out indignation and scurry off to the safety of the restroom for the rest of the evening.
“Uh...Mrs. Cuthbert went over EES’s rules and policies, right?” Merlin asked when Devon pulled him away to snag two more flutes of champagne.
Lord Devon smiled devilishly. “Ah, yes. No kissing, no touching.” He winked. “Only touched a little and haven’t done any kissing – yet.” His grin was lecherous. “But I’m sure a little extra money will coax the rules to bend some.”
The rules or him? Merlin shuddered, trying to wipe the image of Devon’s smirk from his mind. He was an escort not a rent boy. God, did Arthur have to deal with these kinds of advancements when on escort jobs? Merlin wondered, his jealousy sparking. No, that was ridiculous, he decided. Arthur had loads more experience at this than he did and he could handle himself. There was no way a man like Lord Devon would even think of putting a hand on Arthur’s backside.
Merlin declined to accept the flute Devon was holding out to him, telling the lord that he could use a glass of water – to drink or to drown himself in, Merlin hadn’t quite decided. Devon shrugged and Merlin politely excused himself to wander over to the ballroom bar. He could use to get away from his date for a few minutes to de-fluster and regroup.
“So - where do you want me to hurt Lord Grabby Hands?” Arthur asked, suddenly beside him.
Merlin snorted out a laugh. “Saw that did you?”
“Yep,” Arthur responded. “And if he does it again, I’ll lay him out flat.”
Merlin couldn’t help smiling. “Who knew you were the jealous type,” he expressed.
Arthur grinned back. “It’s near impossible not to be when you’re looking like that.” He eyed Merlin up and down. “You are bloody fucking hot, you know that?”
A warm blush crept up Merlin’s neck and settled on his cheekbones. Arthur was his boyfriend, but Merlin was sure he would never stop blushing like a schoolgirl at the things Arthur said to him. Arthur was the one who was bloody fucking hot. Suddenly Merlin couldn’t wait for this evening to end so that they could go to Arthur’s flat and make out like teenagers.
Arthur’s lips curled into a smile as he watched the blush settle across Merlin’s exquisite cheekbones. He loved making Merlin blush. Especially since Merlin, the sweet idiot, didn’t even realize this only made him look hotter and made Arthur love and want him more. It was a win-win as far as Arthur was concerned.
Arthur handed Merlin the glass of poured-from-the-bottle over ice water, hoping Merlin was sufficiently distracted enough not to dwell on the eco-unfriendliness of polyethylene terephthalate or to pine over recyclables and renewable resources. His boyfriend was a delightfully charming greener. “And make sure you don’t eat any of the appetizers going around except the shrimp cocktail,” he said. “It’s the only thing the kitchen was willing to confirm no egg was used in preparing.” Merlin had an egg allergy so Arthur had checked with the kitchen staff earlier to find out which foods Merlin could safely eat.
“Anything else?” Merlin asked, his expression amused.
“Yeah,” Arthur said, smiling. He leaned his head in and said softly into Merlin’s ear, “Love you.” Then he swept away to return to the lovely Mrs. Winhaven.
**
An hour and five or six (Merlin had lost count) flutes of champagne later, Lord Devon expressed suddenly, “It’s too stuffy in here,” and grabbed hold of Merlin’s hand to pull him out of the now crowded ballroom and into one of the adjoining hallways. Merlin wanted to protest – holding his hand did constitute touching after all – but he also didn’t want to make too big of a fuss. He was trying to act the professional and didn’t think it would be appropriate to whine every other second about Devon breaking the rules.
Devon led him down the expanse of a hallway to an obscure (and somewhat darkened, Merlin noticed) recess. He quickly pressed Merlin up against a wall, placing his hands on each side, blocking Merlin in.
“I really think we should get back to the ballroom--” Merlin suggested, hoping to somehow discourage the man.
“I want to spend a little time alone with you,” Devon said, his face so close Merlin could feel his breath on his cheeks and could better estimate the flute count at six. Devon put a hand on Merlin’s chin and traced his thumb over Merlin’s lips. He licked his own. “So pretty,” he murmured.
Okay. This had to stop. Merlin had gone as far as he was willing to go. To hell with showing Arthur he could do this. To hell with never being asked to do an escort job again. To hell with Lord Devon and his money. To hell with this charity event, even if it was for homeless children.
He was about to say as much when another voice cut strongly in.
“I think you should take your hands off him - right now.”
Arthur. And he did not look impressed.
Lord Devon eyed Arthur lazily. “I say, mate, what’s it to you?”
Arthur moved closer and his sheer presence was imposing and intimidating. Merlin suddenly understood how Will must have felt when Arthur had impressed upon him that he had better not play with Merlin’s feelings.
“Well, first of all, Merlin here is my colleague and we look out for each other,” Arthur responded evenly. His tone then became darker. “And second, Merlin happens to be mine.”
Lord Devon raised his eyebrows then looked pointedly from Arthur to Merlin, causing Merlin’s skin to flush. He smiled and took a generous step back from Merlin. “My mistake,” he said, apparently deciding he didn’t want to risk tangling with his escort’s boyfriend. Devon then strode magnanimously down the hallway away from them.
“Um, thanks?” Merlin expressed, his face reddening slightly. He loved that Arthur had staked his claim but, at the same time, it was kind of embarrassing that he had had to be ‘rescued’ from Lord Devon’s sexual advances by his own boyfriend.
Arthur smiled at him. “Oh, you had it all under control,” he said charitably. “I just happened to come by and thought you could use a little help.”
“Let’s be honest,” Merlin said with a frown. “I’m not cut out for this. I think my escort days are over before they began.”
Arthur slung an arm around Merlin’s shoulders. “Maybe not,” he consoled. “You’ve got potential.”
“You think so?”
Arthur grinned. “Definitely,” he said although Merlin detected a ‘but’ hanging in the air.
Merlin cocked a brow at him. “But...?”
Arthur huffed out a laugh. “I’m not sure I could handle my boyfriend being an escort,” he admitted, and Merlin was pleasantly surprised to see a light blush settle across Arthur’s cheeks. “You weren’t the only one out of his element tonight, Merlin,” he continued. “I discovered I don’t much like seeing you on the arm of other men.”
“Especially when I’m looking all bloody fucking hot like this?” Merlin said cheekily, sweeping his hands down the length of his tuxedo-clad body.
“Yeah,” Arthur said and it may have sounded a little breathless.
“How long before we can skip out to go to your place?” Merlin asked. He very much wanted to make out with Arthur. Like now.
Arthur chuckled. “We have to make it through dinner first,” he told him. “Which reminds me. Laura Winhaven would like you to join her for dinner.”
Merlin’s face puzzled. “I thought she already had an escort.”
“She does,” Arthur said. “But apparently she wishes to have two tonight.” Arthur grinned. “She’s already called EES and has arranged to cover Devon’s fee plus another of her own.”
Merlin raised his eyebrows. Then he couldn’t help tease, “So technically, I scored a double – or is it triple? - fee for tonight’s event, yeah?”
“Yes,” Arthur conceded, shaking his head, grinning.
“Maybe I do have potential as an escort then,” Merlin said, trying to stop his lips from spreading into a grin.
“Yeah, don’t let it go to your head,” Arthur said. He caught Merlin around the neck and rubbed his knuckles into his hair.
“Hey!” Merlin squeaked a protest. “Don’t damage the merchandise!”
Arthur rolled his eyes. He then planted a wet, hungry kiss on Merlin’s beautiful pink bow lips.
**