Hesekiel and Merlin Meet For The Very First Time

Hesekiel had no interest in the circus, nor becoming an assistant to the main magician's antics. Unfortunately, his status had been upgraded from 'heavy lifter of boxes' to 'assistant to a huge tool'. He had never actually meet Merlin before, not formally, but that didn't mean he liked him.

Though, to be very fair, Hesekiel did not like anyone. He had no interest in the world, nothing. He was the most unemotional, boring person ever to have lived. Aside from the incredibly large "tattoo" that spanned across his face and all the way down his body. The last person who had asked hadn't lasted very long at the circus, and so people tended to not ask many questions.

As he walked into the caravan meant for Merlin, he immediately wished he hadn't. The stench of perfume lingered in the air. How could anyone stand it? Though, as he covered his nose, he realized most people were not as sensitive to smells as he was.

"I'm your new assistant," he announced, in a flat monotone.

Merlin, who was lounging on the bed with his eyes closed, grinned. A fluffy, purple robe effeminately enveloped his thin body; it complimented the lilac hues of his expensive sheets and pillows.

This image was nothing when compared to the rest of the caravan. Every inch of the walls was heavily bedecked with posters; once could hardly see the rich red paint underneath. There were feathers and tasseted rugs and shimmery silk clothes hanging off of every available surface. Even the ceiling had been painted with an accurate replica of the night sky.

Without bothering to open his eyes, the magician waved his hand in a welcoming gesture.

"What a sultry voice. Come on over here, sugar--sit on my lap and we can get to know each other."

"No," replied Hesekiel without batting an eyelash. "I'm not going to risk catching an unsavory disease from you."

He stayed by the door, arms crossed over his broad chest. Hesekiel really hated Merlin and he had barely even said two words to him.

He frowned, sighing dramatically.

"Come on, don't be shy. You've already interrupted my nap--don't make me get up, please. Try to be a little civil." He waved his hand again, twice this time. "Come on, dear--I promise I don't bite."

"...You are aware that I'm a large, muscular, hairy, man, correct," though it was a question, his voice didn't fluctuate properly to show it as such.

There was a long, awkward silence.

"...Don't even joke like that, hun," said Merlin finally.

"Are you completely deaf, or just an idiot," he wondered. "Either way, I don't care. I'm your new assistant, which I've said once but because you seem to be deaf, I'll say it again. My name is Hesekiel Alpassi and I don't want to look at you for longer than I have to, so don't expect me to be in the caravan often. If you need me, which you never should except during shows and rehearsals, you won't be able to find me."

He finally sat up and opened his eyes. The moment he saw Hesekiel, his nose wrinkled with pure revulsion.

"Augh! You're mortifying. I told them specifically to get me a nice female assistant, someone to bang between shows--you are thoroughly unacceptable. Find another caravan to sleep in, because this one is reserved for me and beautiful ladies."

He pointed at the door, glaring at Hesekiel. "I can't believe management actually screwed up this bad. Unthinkable! Inconceivable!" He tossed his head back in indignation, sending the vanilla perfume of his hair wafting through the room.

"No, this is where I'll be sleeping from now on, princess," he said. "If it's any consolation, we could still bang between shows."

Without any hint about whether or not he was serious, he sat down on the edge of the large bed. "Do you have a spare bed, or will we be sharing. I'd rather not share, lest I catch your gay."

"Of course I don't have a spare!" he scoffed. "Only my ladies are allowed in here--do you think I'm gay? Though if you are, I'll have to ask you to leave even more firmly. Screw management--I cannot be with another gay man, particularly one this ugly. That is the exact type of sex I am not looking for."

He crossed his arms, turning away from Hesekiel and pouting.

"This is the only bed, so you couldn't sleep in here if you wanted. My bed isn't big enough for a giant oaf like you anyway. Just fuck off and tell them to bring me back an actual lady partner."

"Don't you think I tried," he replied. "I think you're a disgusting, filthy waste of air who only earns his place in this world by being a mediocre magician. I don't want to share a room with you, much less look at you."

Hesekiel stared at him, raising a hand to deliberately, and carefully, slick his hair back down. The motion was almost creepy, due to the entire calm, deliberate nature of it.

"If you're unhappy, talk to the ringmaster. I know Stefan and Tobias will both turn your prissy ass away."

"As if!" exclaimed Merlin, flipping his fragrant hair again. "They both love me!" He sounded less than sure, despite his poutiness; his last encounter with Stefan in particular had ended less than spectacularly. How was he supposed to know he had wanted to be his assistant, but hated being called manly? It was just the truth.

Merlin glared down his nose at Hesekiel. Speaking of the truth, it was time someone received a healthy dose.

"And as if I'm the disgusting one, you Cro-Magnon filth--does this, shall we say, exotic stench ever leave you, with all that hair? I'm willing to bet it's at least semi-permanent--it'd take a few years to build up a funk like yours, in any case.

"Do you get thrown out of public establishments often? If so, which gets them first--the stench or the face? Can you even spell 'mediocre', or 'magic' for that matter? Can you disappear, or make pigeons come out of your sleeves, or take swords to the belly and survive? Can you invite women into your bed with a 90% rate of success, and satisfy them 99% of the time?

"If you can't do any of those things, who are you to look down on me?" he sneered. "I am Merlin Marquise, bitch, and you are merely in need of a bath."

"Are you entirely satisfied with your meek attempt at ruffling my feathers," he asked, completely unperturbed by the entire experience. "I'm about to go eat lunch, so I'll leave you to sort out this problem."

He headed for the door, before he paused.

"One more thing. I'll move in my things tonight, sometime during the night. I hope you won't mind."

"No, you will not!" he insisted angrily. "I am going to speak to management--by the time I am done, this shitty partnership will be through, and I will have a lovely lady. Do you hear me? Don't even bother coming back here, because our career together is already over."

In a huff, Merlin drew the curtains closed and pulled his eyemask over his eyes again.

"And don't you dare interrupt my beauty sleep!"

-x-

Hours later, Merlin found himself sitting on his bed. He was fully dressed in his usual garb of purple and furs, but his expression was glum and he was all alone. Even the single candle flickering his tiny end table seemed somber and downtrodden.

Today was one of the worst days of his life--his proposal for a new partner had been rejected. He hugged his shoulders, pouting and watching the door; all he could do was wait for that oaf to come back in. How disgusting.

He should be sleeping by now, or at least sleeping with someone, but he couldn't risk letting that brute place his gross Viking furniture on top of something important or expensive. So he sat awake, waiting and miserable.

Hesekiel came back, smelling of the deep woods. Earthy, musty smells clung to him as he entered the tent. More noticeable than his smell, was the fact that he seemed to have misplaced his clothes. He was carrying a box, however. It was not a particularly large box, either. Pelts could be seen poking out.

"You're awake. And you aren't sleeping with someone." He said, perhaps a bit of surprise coloring his voice. "This is all I have. It will stay in it's box, in the corner, and you won't touch it."

He set down the box, staring at Merlin.

"Do you understand."

"I hate you," said Merlin suddenly, crossing his arms. "You suck. Take your stupid mystery box and just get out--this room is for the ladies and me only. You're ruining everything."

He stood up an paced in front of his bed, groaning audibly.

"I can't stand you! You smell horrid, you're useless, you're bringing in a box of your filthy belongings, you refuse to sleep outside--you're even naked. What the hell is this?! I have done no crime so great as to deserve this hell!"

He ripped a scarf off of its hook on the wall and threw it to the floor in a rage.

"I can't live like this, not with you--this whole thing seems like a bad plot to a gay movie. And let me tell you, I'm over that phase. Don't even try."

Hesekiel responded by saying, "just kidding." and throwing the box at Merlin. It contained an assortment of pelts, which were quite disgusting. Some even had blood still caked on the fur.

As much as he loved his pelts, it would be much more hilarious if Merlin freaked out about this. So, he sat and watched, instead.

He grabbed the scarf from the floor and wrapped it around his neck, amused greatly.

The resulting scream echoed throughout the circus campgrounds. Everyone heard it: Tobias involuntarily clutched Dragomir's vest for protection; Cecil and Mimey pulled away from each other and stared at the door; Camellia jumped into Luke's lap "out of fear."

Merlin dropped the box, pulling a lacy purple handkerchief and holding it over his face to block the sickening smell. The pelts spilled out onto the wooden caravan floor, merely worsening the situation. He screamed again, completely agitated.

"GET. OUT!" he yelled, pointing at the door. "I cannot live like this, you fucking freak--I have standards of living! I never want to see your hideous face again. Jesus fucking Christ, I've had college boyfriends with more class." He massaged his temples, suddenly overcome by migraine pains.

"Augh...you are a hazard to my health...leave, before I force you. I swear I will, I can't sleep like this. You're despicable."

"....you're going to force me." He said, a twinge of amusement in his voice. "You. Are going to force. Me."

He rose an eyebrow.

"...are you entirely serious right now, Merlin." He stared at him, toying with the scarf he had taken a liking to. "Please say you aren't, because I'd rather enjoy seeing you attempt to force me out."

"What other choice do I have!" he snapped through the lacy folds on the handkerchief. "I can't live like this! My head is already killing me, and I have a show tomorrow--I'm telling you, I can't live like this. I need to get rid of you, I want you out..."

He coughed into his handkerchief, moaning and shaking his aching head.

"...I'll have to force you out, because I've got no other options...what else can I do? I can't even bring women in here to help relieve my headaches. This situation is inhumane."

He slumped onto the velvety sheets of his bed, hanging his head with misery.

"What have I done to deserve any of this?" he muttered sadly, pinching the bridge of his nose.

"You're a complete disgrace to the human race," Hesekiel said bluntly. He sat down on the edge of the bed, not facing Merlin. He toyed with his new scarf as he spoke.

"You disgust everyone. You use women for sex, yet you act as if you're above everyone else. Your magic tricks are simple," okay that was a lie, "and you aren't even attractive," another lie (?), "mostly, you just sicken me."

He laid backwards on the bed, looking up at Merlin, who was now upside down. "I'm the one wondering why I have to share a tent with a monster like you."

"How dare you," whispered merlin, visibly shaking. "How dare you..."

He stood up, striking Hesekiel across the face; to be fair, there wasn't much force behind it. Merlin had never been the most muscled man.

"HOW DARE YOU?!" he shrieked, tossing a pillow at Hesekiel's face. "I use the ladies for love, you sick oath--is an artist's heart diminished by his carnal needs? Of course not! You just don't understand anything! And you know what?"

Merlin snapped with both hands, and heavily perfumed smoke filled the room; when it cleared, there were no less than seven bunnies resting on Hesekiel's face and body.

"You're lucky I don't summon the swords, you oaf!" he spat. "Now get off of my bed!"

Hesekiel sat up suddenly. It wasn't because he was intimidated. Of course it wasn't; like he cared how Merlin felt. The bunnies, however. They looked rather tasty. He had just eaten, but...

He stood up, wrapping the scarf around his neck.

"I'm not leaving," he replied. "I'm going to sleep."

"I will set my pigeons on you," he spat. "And that'll just be the first act. Now are you going to leave or not, you fat lummox?"

He kicked Hesekiel's side for good measure, being careful to avoid the bunnies.

"I wonder if they'll eat you, or if you're too dirty for animal consumption."

Hesekiel shoved the bunnies off the bed, and then laid down next to Merlin. Curling up into a ball, he just stared at the other man.

"Are you going to sleep or not?" he asked, the faintest smile on his lips. "I'm going to sleep."