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rainbowvamp · 3 years

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No Body, No Crime (Mercelot)

It's 4am and some of us don't know how sleep schedules work! Here's your angst fill for Mini @mercelotweek. Sorry in advance :)

Warnings! Death of Major Characters. Merthur, but Arthur is Evil. No Happy Ending. Check AO3 for more extensive warnings.

Summary: Merlin was the love of Lancelot's life. He could stand watching him marry someone else if it meant Merlin was happy. He could not stand watching that man get away with murdering him.

Angst, Morgana&Lancelot team up that canon adherent people won't like maybe?, unrequited love, pining, one-sided Merlin/Lancelot, except I head canon that it's not

----

“Lancelot, have I ever told you that your eyes are so warm?” Merlin asked, stroking a hand over Lancelot’s cheek. Merlin is so clearly drunk, but Lancelot still feels his face warm beneath the soft touch. He knows that Merlin doesn’t, couldn’t, mean that the way he thought, not with how head over heels he was with Arthur Pendragon, but… it still made his heart skip a beat when Merlin talked about him like that.

When he doesn’t answer Merlin just keeps tracing the lines of Lancelot’s face. Lancelot knows he should stop him, when he runs his fingers over Lancelot’s softly parted lips, but he doesn’t. Let’s Merlin’s hands stroke down his neck, shoulders, and chest, so obviously taking in his muscle tone.

“You’r beefier than Arthur. Did you know that? Not by a lot, not like Percival is, but… so much muscle.” He squeezes Lancelot’s bicep, and Lancelot swallows hard.

—

“You’re beefier than Arthur. Did you know that? Not by a lot, not like Percival is, but… so much muscle.” He squeezes Lancelot’s bicep, and Lancelot swallows hard.

—

Lancelot’s been waiting for Merlin for a little over ten minutes. Merlin tends to be a bit scatter brained at the best of times, so Lancelot isn’t particularly worried, but when Merlin walks in, looking flustered, Lancelot is immediately on guard.

Merlin pulls his chair out almost violently and is just barely politely to the waiter, obviously holding back a sort of curt near-anger that Lancelot didn’t see often. He ordered a glass of wine, their usual white, and only when the waiter was gone did he finally look at Lancelot.

“What’s wrong?” Lancelot asked him, and Merlin’s blue eyes were fiery, angry in earnest now.

“The sheets smelled like perfume.” Merlin speaks through gritted teeth, and Lancelot is at a loss.

“I don’t understand.”

“The sheets. Our sheets. Smell like perfume. I don’t wear perfume, and neither does Arthur.” He glared and just barely managed to be courteous when that waiter brought him his glass. Their Tuesday dinner was a tradition, and the waiter seemed to sense something was wrong because he brought the bottle and left it on ice at the table.

It took Lancelot a few second to process that, before he finally, stupidly said, “Oh.”

“Yeah, oh.” Merlin took a sip of his wine that was more like a gulp, but Lancelot didn’t say anything about it. “I can’t prove it. I don’t know who it is, but I just know he’s sleeping with someone else. And in our bed.” Merlin was seething, and Lancelot couldn’t blame him. He’d been pining after his dear friend for years, and if Lancelot had Merlin he’d never dream of anyone else, let alone bring them into his bed.

“You’re sure there’s no chance it’s your soap? Maybe he switched colognes?” He doesn’t believe this, but he hopes, because he loves Merlin, that Arthur wouldn’t betray him like this.

“I checked the entire bathroom. Nothing. Not the detergent, not his soap, nothing.” Merlin downed the rest of his glass in one swallow and when he reached for the bottle, Lancelot put his hand over Merlin’s.

“Maybe let’s wait until we have some food, yeah?”

Merlin glared. “My husband is cheating on me. If there’s ever been a time to get fucked up on wine, it’s today.”

“Yes, and you have every right to do that, but let’s get you fed first, so you don’t overdo it.” He guided Merlin’s hand back down the table and left his own on top of it for longer than he probably should have before releasing it. Merlin was still glaring, but Lancelot knew it wasn’t him Merlin was upset with. He’d just have to deal with it. His friend needed him.

“I’m going to catch him. I’m going to make him admit what he’s doing. The damn cad. Bloody prat. Fucking wanker.” Merlin is just muttering insults to himself now, and if the situation weren’t so tragic, Lancelot would probably have laughed at the absurdity of suck language coming from Merlin of all people.

“Is there anything I can do right now? You can stay with me tonight, if you don’t want to go back.” Lancelot offered, but before he was even finished speaking, Merlin was shaking his head.

“No, it’s fine. I need to confront him, and if anyone should leave, it should be him. I’m not the faithless one, and I won’t be chased from my own home.”

Lancelot nodded and when their food came, he didn’t protest the overfull glass of wine Merlin served himself before giving Lancelot a regular serving.

—

“Merlin, you should probably go to bed. Everyone else is asleep.”

It was Merlin’s Bachelor Party. A guys weekend away. They’d done a pub crawl in London of all places, and now they were all shacked up in a couple hotel rooms (on Arthur’s dime, so they were very nice room).

“You’re not asleep.”

“I’m also not drunk off my arse.” He smiled. After the decision had been made to call a car so Lancelot could drink, he’d had a few, but he wasn’t nearly as gone as everyone else had been. “Come on, let’s get you to bed.” And damn if he wasn’t kicking himself for phrasing it like that.

“Lancelot Du Lac, I’m engaged.” Merlin tries to feign offense, but he starts giggling too hard for it to be effective. Lancelot rolls his eyes even as his ears burn and he lifts Merlin up under one arm so that he get him off the bed long enough to pull the bed covers back and pour Merlin in.

“You used to be fun.” Merlin complained, and Lancelot laughed earnestly.

“No, I didn’t. You’ve just gotten more irresponsible.”

Merlin frowned but soon became distracted by the soft texture of the sheets. “Stay with me. I don’t like to sleep alone anymore.”

“I am staying with you. We already put Gwaine and Elyan in the other room.”

“No, I mean here.” He slapped the side of the bed beside him.

Lancelot was tempted, but ultimately shook his head. “I don’t think that’s a good idea, Merlin.”

“Because you love me?”

Lancelot’s breath catches. The casual way Merlin says it almost drives Lancelot off the deep end. Years of secret keeping about to be toppled by a drunken night when Merlin was already engaged.

“You don’t have to say anything. I know you want it to be shecret. Shecret. See-cret.” He smiled when he finally managed to get his tongue to cooperate with him, then turned that beaming grin up to Lancelot. “I promise I love you too.”

“I-I- I need some air.”

He hears Merlin call after him as he leaves the room, but he ignores it. He can’t look at him, right then. He can’t see those blue eyes and those soft lips and pretend that he hasn’t just had his heart forcibly exposed. He can’t. He can’t. He can’t.

—

The next Tuesday, Merlin was nowhere to be found. He’d called, texted, done everything short of showing up at his house. When Merlin was a half hour late, too long even for Merlin’s scattered head, he got up from the table without eating, left more money than was needed to cover the water he’d been nursing, and went to look for Merlin.

He drove by Merlin’s work first, thinking maybe he’d gotten lost in a project except his car wasn’t there. He went inside, just in case.

Mithian, the very competent front desk worker that Lancelot suspected did more than work the front desk, smiled up at him.

“Lancelot! Are you looking for Merlin?” Her smile was just the tiniest bit tight.

“Yes. He’s not here, is he?” Lancelot feels his heart get heavy, suddenly. His chest is tight in a way it hasn’t been since his parent’s car wreck years ago. He swallows hard as Mithian speaks.

“No. No one’s been able to get ahold of him today. We called his husband, but he didn’t answer either.” Mithian has a distraught look on her face that even her usual calm demeanor can’t hide. It’s the same way Lancelot feels

“I’ll see if I can track him down. Thank you.”

“Let me know if you hear anything, please.”

“Yes, of course.” He nodded and left, making a mental list of places to visit.

—

“Lancelot!” Merlin scrambles out of bed far too early for someone as hung over as he must be. “I was worried. You didn’t come back. Why didn’t you come back?” Merlin looks him over like he might have managed to get into some trouble on his own for a few hours, and Lancelot shook his head.

“I needed to time to think. I’m alright. I’m sorry I worried you.”

“Sorry? Sorry? I put my foot in my mouth while drunk and your response is to apologize?” Merlin looks exasperated, and it makes one of Lancelot’s lips quirk up a bit.

“Sorry. Should I apologize for your foot instead.”

Merlin groaned and leaned his head against Lancelot’s shoulder. “You scared the shit out of me. I thought I’d fucked up our friendship.” Merlin’s hands wrapped around Lancelot’s waist in a hug, and Lancelot returned it easily.

“Nothing could ruin our friendship. Just… Please don’t ever do that again.”

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay.”

“It’s not, but I promise not to… be so blasé in the future.”

“Thank you.”

—

He drives by Merlin and Arthur’s house first, but their car isn’t there. He gets out and knocks on the door anyway, just in case. He has a key for emergencies, and he decides that this is an emergency. He lets himself in and goes straight to Merlin and Arthur’s bedroom.

He’s never been in here before, and the way that everything is clean and tidy feels wrong for Merlin. The Merlin Lancelot knows has always been messy, and chaotic. When they’d been roommates years ago, Merlin had never been able to keep his room any nicer than slightly unkempt, but the place is spotless. It looks wrong.

He knows he shouldn’t, but he goes through Merlin’s bedside drawer, looking for clues to where he might be. He tries not to think about the full bottle of lubricant he finds there, looks over the pads of paper, half written lists, books with dog-eared pages. This looked much more like Merlin.

As he’s sifting through pages, a half sheet, ripped along one edge, catches his eye.

Perfume

“Working Late”

Jewelry charge

Lipstick stains

5 months no sex

Lancelot shoved the list into his pocket on a whim and closed the drawer. Merlin had been talking about confronting Arthur. Maybe he had. Maybe…

Lancelot had never cared much for Arthur, but Lancelot could admit that even for Arthur, that would be too far. Lancelot leaves the house without disturbing anything else. Maybe Merlin and Arthur reconciled and went for a whirlwind trip to Fiji or something else ridiculous. Lancelot wouldn’t actually be surprised if they had. Merlin was impulsive like that and Arthur had money.

—

Arthur calls him later that night. Asks with the calmest tone that Lancelot has ever heard if Merlin had been by his place, or met him for dinner. Lancelot says no, and Arthur hangs up without even a pass at formalities.

—

Lancelot drives by Arthur and Merlin’s house. He means to stop, ask after Merlin, except…

Arthur’s car is missing. In it’s place is a sleek new white sports car. Nothing like the practical car that Merlin had insisted on.

Lancelot drives straight by, and doesn’t stop.

—

He hears from Gwaine that Arthur has a new girlfriend on a pub night of all nights. A woman who’s moving into the house with him. It’s been less than a month since Merlin disappeared, and Arthur had a new woman on his arm already? Lancelot and Gwaine had never been overly close, friends by virtue of knowing Merlin and being cared for deeply by Merlin, but even Gwaine seemed to pick up on Lancelot’s stormy mood.

“Don’t do anything stupid, mate. He’s not worth it. I know how much you cared for him.”

“Everyone cared for Merlin.” It’s a curt, snappish tone, so unlike Lancelot’s usual soft demeanor.

“Not like you did.” Gwaine takes a sip of his beer and calls the bartender back over, ending their conversation.

—

“And do you, Arthur Pendragon, Take Merlin Emrys to be your lawfully wedded husband?” Arthur’s tie is a bright red that compliments the blue of Merlin’s well. Lancelot can’t see Merlin, because he’s standing right behind him, in the position of the best man, but he can see Arthur, who looks… Well Lancelot is sure he’s in love, but if that were him, Lancelot would probably be on the verge of tears.

He reminds himself that everyone is different, and he tries not to judge Arthur on his wedding day. This is the man that makes Merlin happy, the man Merlin loves, and so Lancelot just has to accept that.

“I do.”

“And do you, Merlin Emrys, take Arthur Pendragon to be your lawfully wedded husband?”

“I do.” Merlin’s voice is a little thick, and Lancelot knows that means he’s holding back tears. Lancelot is holding back tears of his own, clenching his jaw to try and force his face to stay neutral. Over Arthur’s shoulder he catches Morgana’s eyes, and she looks at him in a way Lancelot doesn’t understand.

“Then by the power invested in me, I pronounce you married. You may kiss your groom.”

Lancelot looks away when Merlin surges forward to kiss Arthur, and Elyan, one of the other groomsmen, squeezes his shoulder. Lancelot doesn’t know if it’s sympathy or some strange gesture of happiness, but Lancelot uses it to ground himself while he waits for Arthur and Merlin to pull away from each other.

—

Lancelot sees Arthur and the woman as he’s taken to internally calling her later that night at the same pub. He’s sitting with Percival, nursing a glass of wine Merlin would’ve liked when he spots them. The woman is hanging on his arm, looking completely smitten, and Arthur looks like the cat who got the cream.

Percival caught the storm clouds in Lancelot’s eyes and followed his gaze before whispering “shit,” and rubbing his temples. “I think that’s Elyan’s sister.”

“I don’t care who she is. Arthur’s a bastard.” Lancelot grit his teeth and Percival reached across the table to put a hand on Lancelot’s elbow and hold him steady.

“Let’s not lose our heads. We can go if you want.”

Lancelot kept his gaze firmly fixed on them, still angry right down to his very core, but eventually, Percival squeezed his arm and broke his stare, making Lancelot snap out of it.

“I think that would be best.” He murmured, quiet in his rage to keep it from bursting form him.

“I’ll get the tab, go flag a cab.”

Lancelot nodded and left out the back so he wouldn’t have to walk by them.

—

“Morgana, I’m going to do something stupid.”

Morgana was in a black night dress, with her hair pulled back into a French braid, obviously getting ready for bed. “Well, hello to you too, Lancelot. What do I owe the pleasure of your company?”

“Can I come in?” He asked, not rising to the bait, and that seemed to get her attention because she simply stepped away from the door and let him in.

She walks into her small kitchen and pulls a bottle of wine from the fridge. She gestures at him with it and he shakes his head, but she still pulls a glass down for herself and fills it.

“What the problem? Does it have anything to do with a certain blonde airhead who I’d personally like to strangle?”

Lancelot tensed a bit in his chair. “Why do you want to strangle him?”

Her tone was too cool when she spoke, swirling the deep red wine in the glass in a way that was disconcerting. “He killed my brother, Lancelot. The fact I haven’t put a blade to his throat myself is only because I’ve got a child who’s very eager to come home with me. You can’t adopt with a murder charge.” Her face looks so sweet when she says it, but Lancelot can see the mirror of his own rage in her.

“You and Merlin were always quite close.”

“Closer than I ever was to Arthur. Blood only runs so deep. There’s a lot to be said for the connection of like-souls.” She smiled at took a seat at the table, made more dramatic by the flowing motion of her skirts. “So, what’s the stupid thing you’re planning on doing?”

Lancelot smiles half-heartedly. “If I tell you, you have to promise not to go to the police.”

Morgana’s smile turned evil. “Oh, do tell.”

—

They stay up half the night, and Lancelot calls himself an Uber home from hers, to establish a paper trail, as she puts it. The plan they’ve hatched is only half baked at best, but they had time to revise, make it even better.

They would avenge Merlin.

—

Merlin and Arthur have only been on holiday for three days when Morgana shows up at his flat with a bottle of wine, more food than any one person could possibly eat, and a sour expression.

“I hate that they’re so damn happy. It’s disgusting.” Morgana said, collapsing onto his couch.

The two of them had grown closer once Merlin and Arthur got engaged. Merlin was always talking about her, Arthur’s half sister who he almost liked better than Arthur, actually, too bad be wasn’t straight because if so…

“We’re supposed to be happy for them. They’re in love.” Lancelot said, but he took the bottle from her and broke the twist seal without being asked.

“Well, if my Arthur wasn’t such a cad, maybe I would be, but I know him. This is… I don’t know what it is, but it’s temporary, and Merlin doesn’t know that. It’s going to break his heart.”

“They did get married. Maybe it’s not.” Lancelot tried to stomp on the little part of himself that hoped it was temporary. He wouldn’t wish heartbreak on Merlin, even if it would give him a chance to be with the man of his dreams.

“You haven’t known Arthur as long as I have. It never bothered me before that he was like this, but I like Merlin. He’s probably one of my favorite people.” She huffed and took the glass Lancelot offered her, filled with wine.

“Mine too.” He sighed and sat down on the couch beside her.

“I’m sorry. This isn’t fair. I know you’re… well, everyone knows that. I’m sorry.”

“If Arthur makes him happy, that’s what I want for him.” Lancelot took a deep drink from his wine glass.

“You keep telling yourself that, Lancelot.” She sighed and laid her head on his shoulder, picking up the remote and putting on trash television.

—

“Lancelot, have you seen Arthur? I’m sorry to call, I know you’re not fond of him after everything, but… he didn’t come home last night.” Gwen calls him frantically about three weeks later. He’s sitting at the dock with Morgana, one hand draped over her shoulders. They were expecting the call soon, so they were spending as much time together as possible.

“I haven’t seen him. Hold on, I’m with Morgana.” He pulls the phone slightly away from his ear and makes a show of informing her of the news like her ear hadn’t been practically pressed to his phone as well. “Mor, did you hear from Arthur at all last night?” He tries not to smile to himself, but Morgana doesn’t even try to hide it.

“No, I haven’t. We haven’t spoken in a few weeks, actually. I don’t really want anything to do with him.”

“He’s missing.” He says softly enough that Gwen could still hear it. Putting on a show of being concerned was actually a part of their plan.

“Serves him right. Not like he looked very hard for my brother when he went missing. He’s probably drunk in an alley somewhere.”

“Mor, come on.” He sighed and put his ear back to the phone. “Gwen, do you need any help? We can be down there in a bit. Have you talked to the police yet?”

“No. I was hoping someone had heard from him. I was going to call Morgana next. Will you just call Percival and Gwaine and them? I don’t think they like me very much.”

“Gwaine likes you plenty, and Percival is just shy. Don’t worry about it. I’ll call them. You getting his work friends?”

“Yeah. Thank you, Lancelot. I appreciate this so much.”

“Anything, Gwen.”

When he hangs up, he and Morgana grin wildly at each other, triumphant that their plan is going to work.

—

Gwaine tells Merlin that Lancelot and Morgana are sleeping together and Lancelot never corrects him. It’s not wrong, necessarily, it’s just not what Merlin thinks it is. Morgana is aromantic. Lancelot is in love with Merlin. It’s just sex. But Merlin has these fanciful ideas about he and Arthur getting to be best men at Lancelot and Morgana’s wedding, that he immediately takes back because “of course it’s too soon to talk like that, but can you imagine?”

No. He couldn’t. He couldn’t imagine standing at an alter with Merlin behind him, instead of in front of him, but he just nodded, had a sip of his wine, and said nothing.

The rumor circulates through their entire friend group, eventually. He and Morgana do spend a lot of time together, for two people who aren’t dating but are sleeping together. A part of Lancelot wants to break it off, but the small smile on Merlin’s face every time he mentions his and Morgana’s relationship keeps him from doing it.

They feel like partners in this giant conspiracy to hate Merlin’s marriage, and their connection is the only thing that keeps him sane. Well, that and the very mandatory Tuesday dinners he and Merlin always have, no matter what.

—

Watching poor Gwen get carted off in handcuffs probably isn’t supposed to satisfy Lancelot, but it does, just a little bit. He doesn’t even feel guilty, because Prison is a better fate than Arthur or Merlin had.

She looks at him with this howling anger that Lancelot pretends not to understand. She has suspected him since a couple weeks into the investigation of Arthur’s death. How convenient that he’d managed to let it slip to the police that Gwen had taken out life insurance on Arthur. How convenient that the only person who could corroborate his testimony was Arthur’s sister, who had always hated her. How convenient that Arthur had disappeared on a night where he was supposed to have plans with her but canceled for some unknown reason that couldn’t be corroborated or exonerate her.

Yes. How very convenient.

#minimercelotweek2021 #day 3: angst #mercelot #merlance #merlin x lancelot #merlin/lancelot #lancelot&morgana

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