Chapter Text
It had been all over the news.
Du Lac Due for a Benching?
Star draft for the Camelot Knights, Lancelot Du Lac, benched for the second game of the season as he sports a new shoulder injury. Reports say Du Lac strained his shoulder while playing for the amateurs leagues and never recovered.
This season, he stands at the very top of the draft picks for the all-new Camelot Knights, a chance Du Lac says he's been, "waiting for a lifetime."
“It’s all so boorish.” Merlin wiped the counter of muffin crumbs and stood, looking to see if Gwen had reacted. “I think we should transfer instead.”
“What’s that?” Gwen looked up from an equally riveting article from *JAMA , and Merlin cleared his throat impatiently until she looked up, mouth puckering into a perfect “O” as he gestured to the magazine.
“Don’t even know why I buy these tabloids .” He spit out the word as if it was volatile. “They always prattle on about the same things anyway, Who’s dating Who, What’s married Where. I say, Who Cares .” Merlin was now pacing, one hand fiddling with the pen in the pocket of his scrubs, and the other clenching and unclenching at his side. Gwen liked to term it his “morning caffeine and gripe”.
“Ah Merlin.” Gwen stood, shaking her own paper from the greasy communal table, and took Merlin’s elbow with a winning smile. One that had reassured dozens of professional players to part with their fears as she set shoulders on field, and Merlin couldn’t help feeling like he should extend out his own right then for her to snap it back in place. “I know what this is about. You’re nervous .”
Merlin huffed “I’m not!”
“You are.”
“I’m. Not.”
“Then why do you have your lucky Figs on?” Merlin sputtered but let the amusement sneak into his face at her notice.
He patted the olive green scrubs. “These aren’t my favorite ones. I just like pockets.”
“And I know you prepared and re-prepared your instrument bag over a hundred times last night.”
“Alright, alright. No need to diagnose me.”
“Fun ny. ” Gwen hummed a little as she went about the room collecting their paperwork to put in the copier as Merlin trailed behind her. “Alright, Maybe I’m a little nervous, but can you blame me? I mean, we’re only getting hired to work with the MLB’s newest and hottest pro-team. Not to mention that some of these guys are from Cardiff!”
Merlin wondered if that was part of the reason he had been hired onto the MLB. The interview had been rather short, and more focused on his willingness to live abroad than anything else.
“Well, I heard that the man that you’ve been assigned to, Lancelot Du Lac, is very nice to look at.” Gwen said amusedly.
“They’re professional baseball players. I’m sure they’re all nice to look at.”
“That’s not what you texted me yesterday! What was it? Oh, Gwen, I can’t stop looking at his washboard abs, his sparkling brown eyes, his charming smile . Send Help! ”
Merlin sputtered, “No! I was merely commenting on his… form, physique. You know, in a professional sense.”
“So professional you had to scroll through all of Instagram Photos huh. To prepare yourself for the anatomy of course.”
Merlin rolled his eyes at the back of her head, although she couldn’t see, and then remembered all the things he seriously did have to do. Preparation-wise.
As the medical staff hand-picked to wait on the team during games, they were expected to keep prepared for any type of injury that might befall them, from sprains, to dehydration, falls, fractures, bruises, concussion, and so on. He’d near lost his mind scouring the internet for any little tidbit he could find on Lancelot, the player he was assigned to. And so far the internet had been moot of anything, besides the shoulder injury, and his avoidance of interviews in general.
He snapped out of his thoughts just as Gwen had collected the final forms and pinned them neatly with a clip. As the newly hired doctor, and only a few years fresh from residency, Merlin knew Gwen faced the same, if not more, apprehensions as him. He supposed he could dial back on the whining for a bit. Maybe.
She gave the papers a hearty thump on the table, and then hugged them to her chest. Her mouth opened, likely with advice, but Merlin never got to hear it. Not even a second later had the door banged open, and in walked the manager of The Camelot Dragons, Ted Joustim.
“You two.” Merlin had found his grin unnaturally wide in the interviews and had still harbored the same sentiment since. “Just the nerds I was looking for.”
Ted sauntered over to them and mock gasped when he noticed the papers in Gwen’s hands. “Now are those the physical forms for the players to fill out? Thank you, honey.”
He lifted them from her without a word, and as Merlin watched as Gwen stiffened under his appraising smile he felt a sudden protectiveness well up in him. “It’s so exciting to be on the field Tim! Merlin and I were just about to go looking for you to lead us to the rest of the staff.”
“I’m flattered you think I have an idea where they are.”
He guffawed, a rough, unpleasant sound that seemed to echo around the staff room. “But sure, I’ll give you birds a tour. Kevin was supposed to do it, my shit intern, but I guess I can take time out of my very busy day to help.”
He paused, and Merlin realized he was waiting for a thanks. A long moment later he stammered. “Thanks.”
“C’mon.” The heavy-set man started walking away from them almost immediately, not bothering to turn back. “It will have to be quick.”
Merlin exchanged a heavy glance with Gwen, who’s eyes had already gone sad in that way he absolutely hated to see. “C’mon Gwen.”
He nudged her, and she finally looked up. “Let’s ditch him as soon as we know our way around.”
She nodded and started behind him, and Merlin grabbed the instrument bag they shared before following after her.
Have baseball players always been this massive? Was Merlin’s first thought when he strode into the room full of them. And were they always going to look so stoic?
He had felt more than a little intimidated when Ted Joustim had led them into a room filled with players, and not medics, whilst on their ‘tour’ of the facility. And now there were around ten to fifteen men sitting around the large lounge, who had suddenly gotten very quiet in their presence.
“Boys.” Ted greeted them with a flourish, producing a clipboard from nowhere. “Now these are two new members who’ll be joining your ouchy team. Nurse Gwen and Dr. Mertin!”
“Actually, I’m the Doctor Tim.” Gwen smiled at him with so much flattery, you could almost miss the flatness behind her eyes. “But yes, you can call me Gwen. And this is Merlin.”
She gestured to him, and Merlin tried to give the players a confident smile, while scanning the ranks for Lancelot. “He’ll be your NP, but Merlin is very qualified so you won’t have to worry about a thing.”
“We’re so excited to join the family.”
None of the players seemed to react at the sentiment, and Merlin almost felt like he had to say something, when a tall, blonde man walked up to them, clapping. When the man sauntered closer, he noted the smirk set firmly on his face and felt his spirits fall. So the rumors had not been lying about Captain Arthur Pendragon.
“Thanks Tim, for bringing more people from home to help us integrate.” The man used air quotes while looking down his nose at them. “We’ll all be a lovely, homesick family in no time.”
Arthur’s sharp tone grated his ears, and he was almost willing to overlook it. Until he noticed how all the other players looked at the wo of the same with the same mix of derision, pity, and annoyance. The frosty welcome angered him.
“That’s enough.”
“Excuse me?”
“I said that’s enough.” Merlin’s words were too metered, but his annoyance grew looking around the facility. Bloody hell, they hadn't even had a proper welcome! This was the worst first day of a job he’d had since working as a part time cashier at the Tesco’s, and even then the grocer had always said Hullo to him.
“We’ve been here at this facility for mere thirty minutes, and on our first day, mind you, and haven’t even met the other medical staff, seen the facility, or even told where the locker room is.” Merlin felt the hot feeling stir from his very core, an insistence on telling them all off, even with his job on the line.
“And don’t tell me that this is how the day usually runs. Busy. Frenetic. Whatever. I don’t buy it.”
Arthur Pendragon had now crossed his arms over his jersey, his mouth a petty, thin line at Merlin’s outburst. But Merlin couldn’t find himself to care.
A nasally voice to his left started, “Well, Mr. Emrys-”
“Enough Tim.” Another voice spoke up from the center of the room, as a player walked up to them.
It was Lancelot.
Merlin swallowed the heat in mouth in favor of watching man he had googled come to life before him. He was tall, with tousled dark hair, not under the cover of a cap, with the most striking brown eyes Merlin had ever seen. At least they had gotten that part of the story right.
“I think we’ve all got off on the wrong foot. And I-” Lancelot paused and looked over at Arthur, who looked away. “I want to apologize for the sorry welcome you’ve had here so far. I promise we’re not all assholes. Mostly.”
He smiled warmly at Gwen’s hesitant nod and turned his eyes on Merlin. Who felt immediately like dying under the earth at Lancelot’s knowing grin.
“I think you’d fit right in…Merlin, right?” Merlin managed a nod, and Lancelot’s smile seemed to grow. “Don’t mind Arthur. We’re having a rough start of the season and everyone’s a little stressed. But we’ll work on it.”
“Well the clapping did surprise me. Right off the bat.” Merlin regretted the pun almost immediately, but Lancelot’s answering laugh helped worsen the sting.
“I think you two will fit right in.”
“Worked at the UN office. Assisted with the emergency on the Venice Runway Winter 2015. …Worked with Donatello?” Gwaine paused, and Merlin took the moment to slip off his blood-pressure cuff.
“Donatell-oh actually.” He corrected, and only looked up at the resounding silence. The other players sitting in the adjacent waiting room had all looked up at him. “Sorry. We had to get it right while seeing him for his weekly physicals. And I was at every one.”
Gwaine raised an eyebrow. “In that case, have you got any gossip then?”
“Unless you want me to violate HIPPA, no.” Merlin grinned.
“Let’s see.” Gwaine adjusted imaginary glasses over the bridge of his nose as he raised Merlin’s phone closer to his face. “What’s else on this impressive resume of yours?”
Merlin and Gwen had gotten themselves well-acquainted with the ‘Knights’ beginning with their first physical for the season. Despite their cautioning of discretion, some of Gwaine’s friends had tagged along, and sat nearby before their own checkups.
“Merlin!– You worked with The Royal Family?” Merlin nodded, remembering how tedious the routine had been, spending his days on private jets and limousines. “Mate, seriously, what the hell are you doing here?”
Merlin scoffed at the remark, as he updated Gwaine’s vitals on a screen. “Honest. Shouldn't you be with the Pope or something?”
“Merlin is a very accomplished nurse.” Gwen said, intoning his name like it was a shiny button she had picked up. “But, if has the flexibility to work wherever he likes, why not work wherever he wants to.”
Gwaine frowned for a second, but then nodded solemnly. “I understand. I used to be more of a free spirit back when I wasn’t settled on playing professionally. That freedom to travel isn’t something I’d change for the world.”
“Exactly.” Merlin said, pulling up the next chart he had to see.
Internally, however, he questioned his own unwillingness to settle down. His mum had sent him many Christmas cards wishing him the best, but also praying that Merlin hadn’t flown the philosophical nest again. He never had a good answer for her.
Shaking himself of his thoughts, he patted Gwaine’s shoulder as the man hopped off the bench. “Well, it was nice to meet you Gwaine. I hope I won’t see you in the clinic too often.”
Gwaine laughed at that and clapped Merlin on the back as he left, shutting the door behind him.
Now for the next patient on the list… Lancelot.
Merlin felt his pulse quicken without even checking it, as he read over Lancelot’s chart for review. He’d finally have a chance to get acquainted with the man who stood up for him a week ago, and despite the time going by, Merlin still hadn’t thought of something to say to him.
Too soon, he heard a knock at the door, and gathered himself before letting the man in. “Come in.”
“Merlin.” Lancelot offered a polite smile as he stood in the doorway, awkwardly.
Before he had the chance to say anything, Gwen tugged at his sleeve hurriedly. Glancing down he noted the flashing phone sign that read Elyan. He hardly had the chance to nod as she walked quickly out the door.
“Sorry, something came up.” Merlin clasped his hands, and felt his mouth run dry watching Lancleot shuffle his feet.
“Well, where do you want me?”
“The chair is fine.” Merlin swallowed, as he gathered his clipboard to ask the formal, introductory questions. “I’ll just go over the initial stuff with you. History, recurring complaints, and goals you have for this season.”
Lancelot sighed but took a seat. Merlin prepared his mental list as he tapped a pen to paper. “So tell me a little about your medical history.”
“My medical history?” Lancelot scratched at his neck, which Merlin found frustratingly distracting. “Well, I’m sure you’ve heard about my shoulder injury.”
“Only what the tabloids have told me.” Merlin said boldly and was rewarded with a small smile from the other man.
“Yes, the tabloids. A bit too obsessed with an injury that amounts to nothing more than a long-dead mistake.” He looked up from the spot on the floor he had fixated on, to give Merlin his full, riveting gaze. “But I’ll tell you.”
“It started when I was sixteen. I had just gotten a job at the department store down the block.” Without seeming to notice himself, Lancelot leaned forward while telling his story, jaw tightening.
“And that was the day some guys had planned a robbery.”
Lancelot’s voice had gone flat and cold as he stared at the ground, the words seeming to be strained from his mouth. “I was the only one at the register, and the manager had gone to the back for a smoke. The men had a script prepared for the job and I only had to follow it and I wouldn’t be harmed.”
“I wasn't the same man then as I am now, Merlin.” Through some effort, Lancelot unclenched the fist he had been gripping on the chair arm. “I was impatient, a make-shift hero, having something to prove. But I was also wrong.”
“And it all went wrong.” Now, Lancelot’s face was masked with cold, and Merlin could hardly recognize the man who he had met just one week ago. “The manager came back to find me wrestling with two of them, while the third cleaned the cash drawer. They pulled my shoulder hard during the fight, and when my manager came to help, they hurt him too. But for him it was fatal.”
As he finished, he looked up, giving Merlin a careful look. “And I don’t share that story at all. For the shame of living with the reminder of what happened that day. And to keep playing competitively of course.”
“Completely understandable.” Merlin breathed slowly, trying not to let Lancelot’s words shake his professional demeanor. “I’m so sorry Lancelot.”
“It’s fine.” Lancelot managed a small smile. “I’m fine now. The muscle in my shoulder was torn, but it’s healed, gets bad only on the worst days. And I make up for it plenty on the field.”
Merlin nodded, his initial feelings slipping away as he assessed Lancelot’s shoulder with a more serious look. “Actually, I think I have an idea to help. Though it might sound a little unconventional to you.”