the last waltz did somersaults

[casualtheatrics2]

the last waltz did somersaults

Rating: 12A (mostly kissing, some swearing, references to oral sex)

Word Count: ~15,000 words

Summary: Inspired by this prompt at kinkme_merlin.

The business is failing, the staff have all left, and the former CEO trashed their office. The secretary’s a former intern, and the senior management staff are cobbled together from several of Uther Pendragon’s highly successful companies. Arthur’s the newly appointed CEO, and he has no idea what he’s supposed to be doing. Luckily, Merlin, the janitor, always seems to be ready with a kind word and a magical solution.

Notes: Unbeta’d. Title taken from the Train song We Were Made For This because I’ve been listening to that album a lot and I have a lot of feelings, OK?! It was this or a fun. lyric....

--



Arthur is sixteen when he first goes to work for one of his father’s companies in the school holidays. Uther thinks it will be ‘educational’ and ‘inspirational’ for Arthur to work alongside ‘real people with debts and misery’ (Uther’s exact words) before he starts his university applications.

Arthur thinks this is bullshit, and that he’d rather spend the summer running about on Hampstead Heath with his shirt off, playing football and chatting up girls.

On the first day he’s due to attend work, he calls in “sick” and slopes off to the cinema with his mates. Uther is apoplectic with rage when Arthur gets home that evening, and orders Arthur a town car for the rest of the summer to take him to and from work. Arthur is equally furious, and vows to be the worst intern the company has ever seen.

The next morning, he sulks on the journey to work, walks into the building wearing jeans and a ratty t-shirt and practically five minutes later, Arthur finds himself in a stationary cupboard getting an enthusiastic blow job from Sophia, one of the other interns who’s studying Business at university.

He just about makes it through the rest of the summer - he hates the filing and the plastic plants and the photocopier that always breaks down and the whine of the air conditioning, but he turns up, does the bare minimum of work (and usually gets it all wrong anyway), gets a blow job off Sophia in the stationary cupboard and goes home to his negligent father’s well-stocked bar.

He goes back to school in September, assuring his father that he really does appreciate the value of hard work now. He knows he should feel guilty for being a filthy liar.

--

The following summer passes in much the same way.

Arthur, in theory, works at the company, but more realistically, he turns up, distracts the secretaries by flirting with them, shags the other interns in the stationary cupboard (this time he is less gender-specific in his tastes) and ultimately gets fired two weeks before the end of summer when he shreds a vitally important file and loses the company a £30 million account.

Uther doesn’t speak to him for four months, but that’s not really a great loss to Arthur.

He spends the last two weeks of the summer holiday in Ibiza with his newly-discovered half-sister from one of Uther’s previous relationships - Morgana is five years older than him, and working as an underwear model whilst at university. His friends are wickedly jealous.

--

Three weeks after Arthur goes back to school, Uther cuts off his allowance and tells him he needs to earn his own money and find his own job. If he doesn’t, Uther warns, there’ll be no financial support during university.

Since, for university, he is relying on a generous allowance and a credit card his father pays off without question, Arthur complies with Uther’s command. That doesn’t mean he doesn’t spend several hours raging about his father’s insensitivity, before ringing the company he’d worked at the previous summer and asking for a job.

When the Human Resources lady doesn’t seem to be able to stop laughing, he slams the phone down in anger.

He thinks of his furnished flat, waiting in his chosen university’s town, and grits his teeth. He goes through the paper, ringing all the part-time jobs. He finds one eventually in a coffee shop a whole bus ride away from his house, and spends his Saturdays for the rest of the year burning espresso, sweeping up crumbs and mopping out toilets.

He hates it, especially when his first pay cheque clearly doesn’t even match half of his former allowance. But his colleagues - Jo (thin, spiky-haired, bitingly sarcastic) and Rhys (stocky, cheerful, eternally optimistic) - more than make up for the deficit in pay. He enjoys their company, especially when some of his friends drift away when he’s no longer the rich, golden boy of the sixth-form. Rhys has access to an unparallelled crop of weed, and Jo knows all the bars that serve underage kids; it becomes habit to spend his Saturday evenings with them.

Both are ambitious, but disadvantaged compared to Arthur and for the first time in his spoilt life, he is grateful for his opportunities.

Come the summer, Arthur increases his hours to full-time, as do Rhys and Jo. He no longer needs the money - Uther restored his allowance when he started speaking to Arthur again - but he can’t bring himself to give up the companionship of two people who like him for himself, not his money.

--

In the autumn, Arthur goes to university, and yes, his fully furnished flat, generous allowance and I’ll-pay-it-no-questions-asked credit card are all in situ for him. He gets a job in the students’ union bar anyway; it’s a few hours a week, and it’s a great way to meet people.

In the holidays, he goes back to the cafe in his hometown, and works with Rhys and Jo. He does it because he can’t get used to weeks without the structure of work. Rhys is studying part-time for an accountancy qualification and Jo is putting herself through art school.

By the end of his second year, he’s offered the duty manager’s position in the union bar. He knows the choice is between him and a girl called Megan, who’s at the uni on scholarship and lives with five other girls in a house meant for four. He turns it down, and carries on working as a barman. When he graduates (and therefore leaves), the bars manager tells him his work ethic is “unparalleled” and that he hopes Arthur will request a reference from him when he goes to a ‘proper’ job, as it will be a pleasure to write one for him.

Arthur thanks him - doesn’t mention that he’s going to work for his father, so a reference is totally unnecessary - and says what a pleasure it’s been to work with him.

He graduates with First Class Honours, and for the first time since he was sixteen, spends the summer out of work. The café closed whilst he was away, and he can’t face the thought of working somewhere else. Jo stays at art school and Rhys works full-time for an accountancy firm, so Arthur spends his summer sunbathing, sleeping and preparing to go to work in September.

--

Arthur’s worked for Uther for over eight years now. He’s moved around between the various companies, and despite his reputation as ‘Uther’s son’ preceding him, he’s found himself popular and well-liked with the staff.

Uther reproves Arthur when they meet for their regular Sunday lunch, tells him the staff will never respect him if they don’t fear him. Arthur thinks that’s bullcrap, and makes a point of saying hello to every member of staff he meets. Uther continues to ignore all but the most senior members of staff, and father and son eventually agree to disagree, for now.

Uther’s approach to business is to move Arthur around between the companies every two years or so, just to remind all the staff that Uther has eyes and ears everywhere. Arthur’s been at Keenettiks, a sports equipment company, for just over eighteen months now, and therefore isn’t surprised to receive an email from Uther, summoning him across town to a meeting one week. He clears his diary, tells his secretary to hold his calls, and hops in a cab to meet his father.

Uther’s secretary, a beady-eyed woman called Catrina, tells Arthur to wait in the conference room. Arthur smiles and thanks her, and Catrina looks at him in horror, as though he’s spat at her feet. Recalling his father’s steadfast refusal to be nice to anyone at work, Arthur rolls his eyes and wanders away to the conference room that overlooks the Barbican. Although Arthur, if pressed, would admit to loathing the City of London slightly, he loves this part of town, everything a short walk from St Paul’s, patches of verdant green here and there, the old buildings, the history of it all. He knows he’s lucky to work in such a spectacular area.

He turns from the wide plate-glass window as Uther sweeps into the room (Catrina three steps behind, and she’s still eyeing Arthur warily, as though he’ll leap over and kiss her). “Arthur!” Uther jovially claps his son on the back.

“Father,” Arthur smiles.

“Take a seat, take a seat, I’m just waiting for Leon to get here.” As if on cue, Leon Bailey - an extremely gifted mathematician and the darling of the accounting department - knocks and walks into the room, smiling at Arthur warmly and nodding respectfully at Uther.

“Gentlemen, thank you for meeting me at such short notice,” Uther says pompously. He clears his throat and Catrina passes Uther a file. “I have recently acquired a new company for the portfolio,” Uther flips open the file and passes a sheaf of papers to each of them. “It’s a small firm, in York, only about one hundred and fifty members of staff.”

Arthur nods, eyes scanning the page. It all seems fairly straightforward. “Why did we acquire it?” he asks, not lifting his eyes from the paper.

“I acquired it,” and Arthur doesn’t miss the note of censure in Uther’s voice, “because it is a shipping company, with strong links across the North. But it’s in serious financial trouble. The board of directors returned a vote of no confidence in almost all the senior management three weeks ago.”

“Because of the serious financial trouble, or because you were interested in buying?” Arthur asks drily. It wouldn’t be the first time Uther’s...directed a takeover like this.

“The company is in the red. Seriously in the red,” Uther presses on, ignoring Arthur’s jibe. “But it has the capacity to provide for most of the business shipping needs within a 100 mile radius of York. That includes Manchester, Liverpool, Newcastle...” Uther pauses. “It could be a seriously profitable enterprise.”

Arthur nods and looks up. “I can see there is a projected profit margin, and the benefits of acquiring this company, but it’s heavily in debt and there seems to be a serious hint of corruption on the senior management.”

“Hence the no confidence vote,” Uther says, voice heavily and patronisingly patient. “The senior staff cannot be trusted to run the company to make a profit, nor to run the company to my satisfaction. Hence you two.”

Leon and Arthur look at each other across the table. “Sir?” Leon asks.

“I’m appointing you two the CEO,” Uther points at Arthur, “and the CFO,” he points at Leon. “You’re going to go to York, with a team you handpick from the rest of my companies, and you’re going to sort this company out. You’re going to be ruthless. And you are going to get me results.”

--

Arthur rolls his eyes at Leon and takes another swig of whiskey. “You know we’re going to either fuck this up, or be so successful it hurts, right? And that whatever happens, we’ll be back here in London in two years, and Uther will take all the credit?”

Leon smiles and sips his own whiskey in a slightly less “desperate alcoholic” way than Arthur is. “I think it’s an exciting opportunity, whatever the outcome. And Morgana...”

“No.”

“What?”

“We’re not taking Morgana with us.”

“She’s your sister.”

“She’s a witch.”

“I’m flattered,” drawls the familiar voice, as Morgana slides into the booth next to Leon. “Love you too, brother dearest.” She blows a kiss at Arthur, and then kisses Leon’s cheek in greeting.

“No, Morgana, this is going to be stressful enough, without you coming too.”

Leon holds up a hand. “Arthur, I will very rarely override you in matters of business. You are an absolute genius when it comes to running companies. But we need Morgana. She is a Human Resources goddess, and, more importantly, she can spot a corrupt and lying weasel at forty paces.”

Arthur has to concede the point. “Fine,” he snaps. “Morgana, due to your unparallelled skills as a human lie detector and possible torturer of fluffy kittens, would you like to join Leon’s and my crack team of employees, moving to York to take over a business that is possibly so mired in debt and misery it will never emerge into sunlight again?”

“Oh, Arthur, I’d love to,” Morgana cooes sarcastically, fluttering her eyelashes. She pauses and says, “Seriously, though, yes, I would. I fancy getting out of London, and God knows you’re going to need a woman on your team.”

“Great,” says Arthur. “One down, seven more to go.”

--

It takes Arthur and Leon eleven days to assemble a team to take with them to York. Morgana has taken to referring to them as the “Knights of The Round Table”, under the command of “King Arthur”, and Arthur would quite like to kill her for it. When he tells Leon this, Leon just laughs and says he hopes he’s Arthur’s seneschal.

Aside from Morgana, Human Lie Detector and Sassy, Savvy HR Head Honcho (as the unofficial documents list her), there is Gwaine O’Shea (Disgustingly Charming Ad Man), Lancelot Lake (Chivalrous and Adorable Logistics Whiz), Guinevere Thomas (Disarmingly Sweet But Secretly Deadly Lawyer) and Tristan Lyons (Quiet But Frighteningly Talented IT Person). Arthur’s worked with all of them before and he knows that they’ll work well together.

In addition to his new senior management team (and Arthur tries very hard not to think about how he’ll soon be the CEO of his own company), Arthur also asks Mithian Rogers, one of the legal secretaries, and Isolde Doherty, Gwaine’s assistant, to join them as well. He needs a general secretary too, but when he’d asked Miranda, his secretary for the last two years, if she’d consider coming to York with him, she’d politely refused. At least, that’s what he tells Uther.

In reality, Miranda had laughed hysterically, and then, realising Arthur was serious, stared at him in horror until he withdrew the offer. He’d sent in Morgana to try and sway Miranda’s resolve, and Morgana came out three minutes later, muttering about “stubborn, stupid bitches”. Arthur had assumed (correctly) that Miranda wasn’t coming to York.

Two days before he’s due to pack up his office, and five days before he’s due to head to York ahead of the team to prepare for their arrival, Arthur knocks on Morgana’s door and announces, “We need a secretary.”

Morgana looks up. “We do?”

“Yes, we do,” Arthur snaps. “I know it seems demeaning, but we need someone to answer the phones and sort the post and make the coffees and do the photocopying and put things in the right place and just generally help us out. I’ll take an intern at this point, but we need someone.”

Morgana purses her lips and says, “Well, what do you want me to do about it?”

Arthur loves his sister, he does, but his patience is wearing thin after discovering that most of Uther Pendragon’s empire is of the opinion that Arthur is being sent to York to fail. “I want you, dearest sister, to find me a secretary by Friday, and I don’t want to hear any bitching about it.”

Morgana smirks at Arthur and says, “No.”

“What?” Arthur’s voice is flat.

“You’re not my boss until a week on Thursday. So, find your own secretary, dearest brother.”

Arthur turns on his heel and storms down the corridor, passing Leon as he goes. Leon is clearly heading to Morgana’s office, and Arthur pauses long enough to shout loudly, “Leon, I will kill her within three weeks, and I am going to hold you responsible.”

Leon just laughs, “No, you won’t!” and carries on walking. Arthur thinks Leon might not be taking his pain and suffering seriously enough.

--

Arthur sends out a company-wide email asking for secretarial volunteers, and gets no responses. He extends the email to all of Uther’s other companies as well, and stares at his inbox, which continues to report no replies for the rest of the afternoon.

It’s late evening and he is nearly finished with his final handover documents, when there’s a timid knock at his office door.

“Come in!” he calls.

The door opens, and in steps a thin, dark-haired girl, who he vaguely recognises from smiling encouragingly at her in the typing pool. “Hello, what can I do for you?” he smiles.

“Mr Pendragon, I’m Freya Marlowe.”

“Hello Freya, take a seat,” he gestures to the chair on the other side of his desk.

Freya looks terrified, twisting the fabric of her skirt between her fingers, but after a moment’s pause, she says, “I’m an intern here.”

“OK,” Arthur says cautiously.

“I overheard you talking to Miss Le Fay this morning,” Freya blurts out, and then blushes. “I wasn’t eavesdropping!” she adds hastily.

“That’s alright,” Arthur says, a rueful smile across his face. “I wasn’t exactly quiet. I’d be surprised if no-one heard.”

Freya smiles. “I heard you say that you needed a secretary.”

“Yes, I do.” Arthur pauses. “Are you saying you’d like to come to York?”

Freya nods. “I realise I’m very young and inexperienced, but I work hard and I enjoy this job. And you’re always so nice to me when you see me in the corridors, I hoped I could help you.”

“You’ve heard the rumours then?” Arthur can’t help asking, a dry tone to his voice. “About how we’re all going to fail miserably?”

Freya smiles, and it transforms her face from pale and drawn to lively and dancing. “I think they’re jealous, you know,” and her grin grows wider. “Still, if anyone can show them, you can.”

Arthur is touched by the faith this underling he’s barely noticed has in him. “How old are you?” he asks curiously.

“I’m twenty,” Freya replies, cautiously. “But I’ve been working here for a little over a year, and I think my line manager would give me a good reference.”

Arthur says nothing for a moment or two, weighing up the pros and cons. Pros: Freya is a volunteer for the team, she’s enthusiastic, and she’s obviously not a troublemaker, or he’d have heard about her before now. Cons: she’s young, unknown and he’s not really in the frame of mind to take on a secretary that’s totally inexperienced at the beginning of what could prove to be a totally hostile takeover.

Eventually, he asks, “Why?” He means, ‘why would your line manager give you a good reference?’ but Freya blushes again, ducks her head and mutters something about a personal situation at home that’s difficult.

Inside his head, Arthur groans. Now he’s looking, he can see a bruise along her left shoulder and a mark on her inner arm like fingerprints. He opens his mouth to thank her for the offer, but politely decline it (and to advise her to contact Refuge), but he finds himself saying, “Thank you, Freya, I’d be delighted to have you join our team.”

Freya beams again, and thanks him, before scurrying out of the room, promising to be ready to leave with him on Monday morning to move to York.

Arthur can’t quite believe what he’s done. He emails Morgana.

From: a.pendragon@keenettiks.co.uk
To: m.lefay@keenettiks.co.uk
Subject: Secretaries - READ THIS EMAIL YOU BITCH

Morgana,

Found a secretary. What can you tell me about Freya Marlowe?

Arthur.


The reply comes back twelve minutes later.


From: m.lefay@keenetticks.co.uk
To: a.pendragon@keenettiks.co.uk
Subject: Re: Secretaries - SPEAK TO ME LIKE THAT AGAIN AND I’LL CUT YOU

No idea. Name isn’t familiar. Who’s she working for at present? Maybe check her Personnel file? Password’s ‘tumbledown’.

Morgana

Sent from my iPhone


From: a.pendragon@keenettiks.co.uk
To: m.lefay@keenettiks.co.uk
Subject: RE: Re: Secretaries - DO YOU NOT APPRECIATE THE STRESS I’M UNDER?

Why is that the password? She’s an intern, not a secretary. I don’t know why I said yes.

A


From: m.lefay@keenetticks.co.uk
To: a.pendragon@keenettiks.co.uk
Subjects: Re: RE: Re: Secretaries - COULDN’T GIVE A FUCK DEARIE, IT’S ENTERTAINING AS HELL FOR ME

Hahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahaha.

That is all.

Wait, no it’s not.

Good luck with your new secretary!

Sent from my iPhone


Arthur ignores Morgana’s reply, and finds the Personnel files on his computer. He taps in the password, and once access is granted, he searches for Freya Marlowe.

Her file pops up, and Arthur opens it. The first thing he notices is that her file is nearly empty, with only the required forms in it. The second thing he notices is her high psychometric test results. It’s standard procedure for all applicants to undertake the standardised tests, although Keenettiks is one of the few Pendragon companies that doesn’t use the test scores in the shortlisting process. Freya’s scores are consistently in the 96th percentile, and her non-verbal reasoning score is the highest he’s seen. She can also type 120 words per minute, is fluent in Spanish and Arabic and knows shorthand. Her line manager, the incredibly-hard-to-impress Yvonne, has written, Freya is attentive, helpful, unobtrusive and deeply committed to her work. She is always punctual, has had no sickness absence since beginning this job and is an asset to the team. Her gentle nature and her enthusiasm in team projects makes her a valuable addition to the Keenettiks workforce.

Arthur, nearly weeping with excitement, copies the page into a new email to Morgana and waits for the reply.

It’s almost instantaneous.

From: m.lefay@keenetticks.co.uk
To: a.pendragon@keenettiks.co.uk
Subject: RE: Freya Marlowe’s Personnel File

Fuuuuuuuuuuuuuuck. How do you always land on your feet, you jammy sod? Can I have her? Please? She sounds wonderful.

Sent from my iPhone


Even if Freya is hopeless, and burns the coffee, and forgets Arthur’s almond croissant, and hangs up on vital clients, and loses all the paperwork in the whole company by setting off the fire alarm and soaking it all to mush, Arthur is going to forgive her, because he has finally got one over on Morgana.

--

Arthur spends the last day at Keenettiks handing things over to Cedric, his replacement, a weaselly-faced man with a straggly beard. Cedric is worryingly enthusiastic about all the files Arthur’s handing him, and Arthur leaves Cedric’s office with a foreboding sense of doom.

Still, in five hours, this company will no longer be his problem, and he’ll be heading home to pack up his stuff and move up country.

He finds Morgana in his office, flipping through the few folders of information that Arthur’s decided to keep and take with him. She raises an eyebrow. “You’re taking the plans for last year’s Christmas party?”

Arthur blushes and snatches the folder back. “I know this seems silly, but I thought Freya might need a plan to work off,” he snaps, “and a Christmas party will be just in time to bring the team together once the first changes are out of the way.”

Morgana smiles at him, and Arthur is alarmed that it’s not her usual mocking grimace, but genuine and warm. “I forget sometimes that you’re not like Uther.” At Arthur’s outraged expression, she shakes her head, laughs and explains, “You’re like him in business, all ruthless and capable and innately good at it, you know, the business stuff comes naturally. But he’s so horrible to his staff, and you always put yours first. You think about how they could be happier. And you treat them all like they’re human.”

Arthur shrugs. “I learned the hard way that not everyone is as lucky as we are. To just graduate and walk into top jobs. I try to be nice to people because I’ve actually done those shitty jobs. I’ve cleaned toilets and mopped floors. Everyone deserves to be happy.”

Morgana pats his arm. “I’ve arranged for Freya’s transfer this morning. She’s excited, you know, although I think Yvonne’s going to kill you for stealing her favourite intern. Come to my office at lunch - please,” she calls over her shoulder as she sweeps from the room.

However nice Morgana is being to him, Arthur knows better than to ignore her command. At lunch time, he finds himself in her office with his new team surrounding him. Morgana hands out glasses of champagne that are gulped rather than sipped. They all look a little nervous - Arthur isn’t surprised. He’d read the bathroom graffiti too that morning, and he tells them so.

The laughter breaks the tension, and Arthur, no longer a de facto leader but the real thing for this team of people, presses on.

“I know that the wider company believes this is an attempt on Uther’s part to have us, to have me, fail.” He shrugs. “I know my father. He’s not like that. He doesn’t believe in failure. He thinks this will be easy, that it can and will succeed. He appointed Leon and me in charge of this venture, and invited us to select a team to accompany us. We chose you, because we believe that you are the best talent Pendragon Limited has to offer. I know that moving hundreds of miles away from places you’ve lived happily for a long time is difficult. I know that, because I’ve lived in London all my life, and the thought of leaving makes me feel sick. But I believe that we are the best Pendragon can offer. We are the future of this company. And I see us not only not failing at turning around Avalon Shipping, but succeeding and turning it into not just a rival for other shipping companies, but the main competitor to beat. I look forward to working with you all, now and in years to come.”

Arthur lifts his champagne glass and says, “To the future of Avalon Shipping!”

Nine voices echo Arthur’s toast, “Avalon Shipping!”

Looking round the room, Arthur sees the nerves fading to confidence - confidence in themselves and confidence in him. They can do this, right?

--

Come Monday morning, Arthur contemplates driving his car at full speed off Tower Bridge and into the Thames. The weekend has been hell - his moving company were helpful, sure, but they took forever to pack, and the things for storage kept being muddled up with the things for transport. Arthur had nearly throttled one of the workmen when they’d expressed surprise that Arthur wasn’t taking a baby grand piano to York.

He pulls up outside Keenettiks to collect Freya at 7am, and is surprised to find her standing with two small bags at her feet. “Is that all you’ve got?” he asks in surprise, before he can stop himself.

Freya blushes. “I don’t have much and Hal, my boyf-” she breaks off, shakes her head and says calmly, “my ex-boyfriend, kind of burned most of my books and clothes when he discovered I was coming with you.”

Arthur can feel the expression of horror dancing across his face. Freya shrugs. “I needed an out, anyway. It’s done now.” She picks up the bags and gestures to the boot of the car. “Shall I put them in there?”

“Er, no, the back seat,” Arthur says, opening the right door. “So, um, Hal. Is he coming after you?”

“Shouldn’t think so,” Freya says, sliding into the passenger seat. “He’s moved on already.” Her face twists up, but she shakes herself and straightens her shoulders.

They sit in silence until they clear the outskirts of London, when Arthur, feeling his stomach rumble, turns to Freya. “I want McDonalds.”

Freya laughs, and her stomach rumbles too. “Next services?”

Arthur nods, and from then on, they talk all the way to York.

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