Chapter Text
ARTHUR
Arthur stood at the counter, shuffling paperwork and trying to look busy. The tattoo gun from across the room gave a steady hum that complimented the rock music coming from the speakers. He heard the muffled conversation between Gwen and her client behind him.
Four black chairs lined either wall and stood out against the white tile floor. Art covered almost every inch of wall space around them—tattoo designs they had created over the years, designs that had won awards, and even a few coloring pictures from the kids of their regulars.
He pulled out a sheet of fake tattoos and started cutting out designs for when kids came in with their parents. Sometimes kids wanted a tattoo of their own so he liked to have a few kid-friendly temp designs ready to go when they came in.
She was tattooing a sword and some Latin phrase on a regular customer’s forearm. She had told Arthur what it said but he’d forgotten almost immediately.
He rearranged the stickers and postcard art of local artists on the counter for about the twelfth time. He was just reaching for his water when the front door chimed open.
A young man walked into the shop, a small box in his arms. He shut the door carefully behind him as if he were afraid it would shatter then made his way to the counter.
“How can I help…you?” Arthur asked barely completing his thought when the man turned his way. He had the most striking pair of blue eyes that Arthur had ever seen. Arthur took a sip of his water to avoid saying something stupid.
“Hey!” he smiled and Arthur choked on his water. "You alright?"
Arthur nodded waving the customer on to continue.
“I’m opening a shop across the street and was wondering if you could keep some cards for me," he pulled out a stack of business cards.
Arthur coughed, “Yeah, what kind of shop?”
“Flower shop. Golden Dragon Florist,” he turned and pointed out the window to the cheerful-looking sign across the street. “We open this Monday so I was hoping to get some last-minute cards out. I’ve also brought this,” he set a small black and white bouquet in a simple glass vase on the counter, it matched the shop perfectly. “If you can keep my cards available, I’ll be happy to bring a new bouquet in every week.”
“Oh, that’s beautiful!” Gwen exclaimed. Arthur hadn’t even realized she’d finished with her client. “Isn’t it gorgeous? I know just where to put it.” She pulled their small case of business cards over a touch and put the vase against the wall, in plain view of anyone walking in the door and whoever was looking at the cards, thoughtful as always.
“And what’s your name?” she asked.
“Merlin,” the stranger said. At the sound of his name, the temperature in the shop seemed to drop five degrees. Electricity filled the air like the calm before a storm when he could just hear thunder in the distance.
The customer from earlier, Gwain, chose that time to make his way to the counter, shaggy hair ever in his face and a dark leather jacket thrown over his shoulder. Gwen took his payment as Merlin handed over the business cards to Arthur.
“You run a flower shop?” Gwain asked him.
“I will on Monday, yeah,” Merlin grinned. Arthur vaguely wondered what he would give to be the reason for that smile.
“Well, welcome to the neighborhood,” the customer, Gwain, introduced himself before taking a card, “Is it too soon to call the number?”
“Not at all, but I won’t get my first shipment until Sunday.”
Gwain nodded once, looking Merlin up and down, “Let me know if you need help at all. I’m always happy to lend a hand.” He gave the same charming smile that had every woman in town swooning…along with at least half the men.
Merlin smiled back, “I’ll keep that in mind.”
Gwain shrugged on his leather jacket before nodding to Gwen, “Until next time, love.”
“You know where I’ll be,” she waved to Gwain as he left.
Merlin turned his head just slightly to watch Gwain leave and Arthur caught a glimpse of a tattoo peeking up under the corner of his collared shirt. The unmistakable pattern of scales was impossible to miss.
“I’ll be taking one of these as well,” Gwen said as she grabbed a card from the stand. “I do flower pressings occasionally and am always in the market for certain flowers.”
“If you let me know what you’re after I can try to get it in on the next shipment,” he stated. He was practically vibrating out of his skin at two new customers already.
“Thank you,” she said, “I’d really appreciate that. I’ll get a list together and bring it by Monday.”
“Not a problem. What name should I put in the books?” he asked.
“I’m Gwen and this is Arthur,” he said as he picked up the box. “Best be off. I’ve got a few more places to visit. Thanks!”
“Good luck,” Arthur managed to say.
Merlin smiled and made his way out the door.
“What was that?!” Gwen exclaimed as soon as the door shut.
“What was what?” he asked, hoping that his blond hair would help the ‘play dumb’ game plan.
It didn’t.
“That! You’re usually the first to talk to customers and you hardly said five words. That was not customer service. That was swooning over customers.”
“He’s not a customer, he’s…”
“If you say ‘competition’ I’m gonna fire you.”
“You can’t fire me,” Arthur said aghast. “It’s my shop.”
“I’ll figure it out, Highness,” she gave a mock curtsy and headed back to her station.
Arthur resisted the urge to laugh at the title. Really, he thought it was absurd. Prince of Ink. Some idiot with a Wi-Fi connection had commented the title on one of his early posts and it took off. He’d been leaning into it ever since.
Arthur grabbed his iPad and sat on the sofa along the back wall and saw as Gwen picked up her sketchpad. She slipped off her shoes and tucked her feet up under her like she was trying to keep warm. He suddenly remembered the blankets and dropped his iPad on the sofa before walking into his office and grabbing the wicker basket he had taken home the night before. Arthur walked back toward the sofa, “Freshly washed.”
She reached her hands out in a “gimme” motion before he even set the basket down. She grabbed her favorite blue blanket from the top and immediately burritioed herself into it with just enough freedom to resume drawing.
“I love when you wash the blankets," she said. "They’re always softer when you wash them than when anyone else does.”
He shrugged, “Maybe they just like me better.”
“Maybe it’s a gift,” she added helpfully.
“Maybe it’s Maybelline,” he whipped his hair out of his face with enough dramatic flair to be the lead singer in a 2000s grunge band.
Gwen laughed, “You know if you were half this charming around men, they wouldn’t stand a chance.”
“And if you were half this charming to women neither would they.”
“Ha!” she proclaimed, “Joke’s on you, I still have men as a choice,” her eyes fell back to her sketchbook as her hand glided across the page.
“And how’s that working out?” Arthur asked, pausing his own drawings.
She hesitated, “Irrelevant.”
“Oh, it is most certainly not.”
“You—I…no,” her cheeks reddened and she seemed to focus harder on her paper.
“Don’t tell me, you liked him too.”
“Absolutely not,” she stated, her ears turned red and completely negated her point.
“Hey, at least you talked to him,” Arthur stated, slightly envious of her nerve. Between the two of them, she’d always been more outgoing while he was more calculated.
“At least you’re more his type,” she muttered.
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That night, after everyone else had left he began cleaning up the shop. There wasn’t much to do since it had been a slow day. He folded the blankets beside the couch and rearranged the magazines on the side table a half-dozen times.
He gathered the trash from each station and under the front counter then locked the front door. A light flickered on across the street. Merlin was wandering around his empty flower shop with a paint roller. An orange cat was staring at him from across the shop and Merlin kept turning back to the cat and gesturing wildly and talking to it. The odd part was that he kept waiting like the cat was talking back.
Merlin turned to start painting and apparently the cat said something he didn't like because Merlin turned to yell at the cat and promptly tripped on a can of paint ending up flat on the floor.
The cat ran across the room and used his abdomen as a springboard onto the counter. He watched as Merlin stood and wiped off the grey paint that now covered his clothes. He flipped off the cat that now happily perched on the counter. Arthur couldn’t help but laugh as he clicked off the shop light and headed to his loft upstairs for the night.
He laid in bed, staring at the cieling, and began a mental countdown to Monday morning.