Title: Walking, talking, living doll (last part of this series)
Rating: PG-13 cause there's a little bit of drinking.
Character/s: Merlin, Arthur
Summary: Merlin completes his mission.
Warnings: Wee bit of drinking. Mainly silly fluff.
Word Count: ~890
Prompt: #174 Intent
Author's Notes: Last part for this series and another fill for my bingo card.
- Pick up your phone you gigantic clotpol,
- I just called to say I l...ook nothing like that doll.
- Say hello to my little friend.
- In vino veritas, in Sambuca... well, it's worth a shot.
Merlin’s pictures show Pratley the doll feeling the water in the drinking fountain, Pratley sitting on a park bench and Pratley ‘walking’ barefoot in the grass. There is something remarkably magical about them. Arthur knows this park, but seeing it through Pratley’s point of view puts it all in a new light. Arthur is willing to bet the pictures are even better when not drunk. Artistic like. The kind that gets you thinking. Just like Merlin.
“These are wonderful, Mrln. You should put these online. I’ll share on facebook and stuff right away.”
Stupid Sambuca makes Merlin think Arthur doesn’t really mean it. He rolls his eyes and looks overbearing at Arthur.
“You’ll ruin your reputation.”
“I’ll be proving my reputation for having impeccable taste!”
Arthur’s mind is brilliant.
“Ok, I *might* put it online. But there might be some copyright stuff and such even if I don’t make any money from it. Have to get that sorted first, doncha think?”
Arthur pouts slightly at Merlin’s doubts. He gives the puzzle some thought.
“I’ll call the company lawyers right away! Sort this right up. Whesh my phone?”
He staggers to his feet. He instantly misses Merlin’s warmth, but this is something he can do for Merlin and it needs to be done now.
Merlin pulls him back down.
“Don’t be silly, it’s late and not a company… problem… thing.”
“But it’s important. You’re important.”
That seemed to shut Merlin up. Arthur’s not sure how long. But there’s silence. He rests against Merlin’s side, Merlin feeling warm and lovely.
“You’ll regret this in the morning though.”
Arthur looks up at him, finding nothing regretful or regrettable there. Merlin clarifies, looking very, very, very serious.
“It’s a workday tomorrow.”
“I know. Dossn matter.”
“Really? What about you master degree in workaholism?”
“Taking a day off. Am expanding my horizons. Heard alcoholischm is very pop’lar.”
“Yeah, but now it’s like totally mainsteam and eeeverybody’s doing it.”
“Bummer. Still taking the day off. Researching new cool isms.”
“We’ll get Pratley to step in for you. No one will notice. Except he smiles too much. You should smile more.”
“He’s not driving my car, tha’s fo sure.”
“Merladdin’s got that magic rug. ‘S all cool.”
Suddenly Merlin jumps up. He’s a bit unsteady, but it’s clearly with intent. Arthur feels bereft. Then a pair of scissors snaps close next to his right arm. He jerks his arm away, staring with alarm at the sleeve of his shirt. Surely Merlin didn’t just make a hole in it? It’s an expensive shirt! There’s a snap by his left arm too. His head jerks up to look at Merlin. Would this be a repeat of the unfortunate mustard incident of 1998? There’s a snap at Arthur’s hip, and one by each of his thighs. Arthur gulps at the look in Merlin’s eyes. He’s determined, like before. He’s man on a mission.
“Just one more to go. This won’t hurt a bit.”
Arthur’s eyes follow the scissors, moving down, down, down, touching Arthur’s knees and snapping close at the same instant. He his legs spring apart belatedly to avoid the scissors. But now Merlin appears to be done.
Merlin spins the scissors on his index finger before his lifts them to his lips and blows at the tip. He puts the scissors back on the table and sits down again, beaming proudly while Arthur inspects his knees. No damage, it seems.
“Ok, what was that?”
“Large scale de-boxing. Seemed to be the next, logical step. If you continue to live in a box after that, then it’s no fault of mine.”
Arthur doesn’t know what to say to that.
“Also. Now you’re nonreturnable. Original, limited edition, or not.”
Hope flares in Arthur’s chest.
“I guess you’re stuck with me then.”
“There’s always ebay, or a flea market.”
Arthur’s hand reaches over to cover Merlin’s.
“But you wouldn’t do that.”
Merlin smiles, his hand turning palm up and their fingers fold together.
“No, I wouldn’t do that.”
The dolls are left staring towards the TV which is still paused ten minutes into Hunith’s episode of ‘Downtown Abbey’. If their grins are anything to go by, they don’t mind it a bit. When Hunith tiptoes through the front door a while later, she sees Arthur’s shoes are still there, his previously forgotten jacket still where it was, in the living room she finds another jacket and a tie and what appears to be Merlin socks. At least something has happened while she was conveniently away. Everything is quiet. She quirks an eyebrow at the dolls on the arm rest, but sits down and lets ‘Downtown Abbey’ play, making sure not to interrupt the dolls’ handholding. It might be important. She turns up the sound a little bit to make sure there are sounds indicating her return. She eyes a half empty shot glass, picks it up and raises it in a toast to her two companions.
“Tell you what, little fellows. I loved Will with all my heart, don’t ever doubt that. But some people burn bright yet short, like my Balinor, while other burn bright and long. If I get you two a couple of round cheeked kiddies, do you think my two life sized darlings will get the hint? It’s worth a shot, I say.”