#methur endgame

[thesongistheriver]

@guiltyscarlet asked me about the bookstore merthur AU recently, so please, have an opening scene snip

The last box dropped to the floor with a resounding thud. “I think that’s the last of it, Gwen,” Merlin sighed, rubbing his arms.

“Oh, thank you, Merlin!” Gwen cried. “I know it seems like too many cookbooks—”

“I’m running a bookstore,” Merlin interrupted. “I don’t know if there is such a thing as too many of any kind of books.”

She gave him A Look, the kind he always idly thought she should find a way to patent. “Taking over your uncle’s shop and bringing it into the twenty-first century doesn’t mean you have to approve of your resident baker needing twelve boxes of baking apparatus and cookbooks lugged around.”

He grinned then, eyes crinkling. “Perhaps not, but if it means I get free scones for life, I’ll live with the pain.”

Smacking him lightly on the shoulder, Gwen giggled. “Deal. After all, you’re not asking for rent for the cafe in this space.”

Merlin shrugged, face falling nonetheless. “No reason to. Gaius owned the building outright, and now … well, now, I suppose I do.” 

Merlin still couldn’t entirely believe it. He’d never been that close to his great-uncle Gaius, but apparently he’d been the sole beneficiary of the shop in his will. It was somewhat ridiculous; he’d studied literature at uni and had been muddling along in a low-level editorial assistant position at a barely-functional publishing house until Gaius had passed, leaving Hunith and Merlin a huge bequest and the store entirely to Merlin himself.

Still, Gaius had definitely not kept up with the times, as Gwen so kindly noted. (Had it been anyone other than his oldest friend, he might have argued the point, but here they were.) There were ancient sticks of incense in pots around the place, bead curtains, and an aroma of patchouli so thick that Merlin felt he could actually see his great-uncle, with his long white hair, round spectacles, and multicolored dashikis left over from the 1970s, when he inhaled it. 

“Well, this town could use a decent public space, anyway,” Merlin said quietly, swiping some dust off a shelf near his shoulder. “A bookstore with a lending library and thrift-book option, a nice little cafe, wifi—” 

The lights went out, and Merlin sighed. “Right. I need to call the energy provider.”

Smiling, Gwen patted him on the back. “You do that. I’m going to investigate the footprint for this kitchen you’re having them install for me.” She clicked on the flashlight on her mobile and headed into the back room where her bakery would eventually reside.

“Gods help me,” Merlin muttered, then pulled his own mobile out of his pocket.