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Merlin hurries behind the blond man, balancing the gift-wrapped boxes as best he can. The day has been long and hectic, and Merlin’s feet hurt. It’s late; it’s Christmas Eve; Merlin’s freezing; and the boxes are heavy. The man has his own hands full and balances his load precariously on his knee as he uses his key ring to open the trunk of his silver BMW.
Snow falls fast, swirling around them, the wind whipping the tails of the man’s expensive coat about his legs, once or twice billowing high enough to reveal his fit arse ensconced within snug trousers. Merlin would enjoy the view much more if he weren’t shivering and doing his best not to drop all the boxes as the blond man meticulously arranges things before taking what Merlin’s carrying from his hands.
“Thanks for your help,” the man says, looking more than a bit harried, his handsome features flushed. He hands Merlin a wad of bank notes and rushes to the driver’s side of the car. “Happy Christmas!” he calls a bit distractedly, waving at Merlin before driving off.
“Same.” Merlin looks down at the money. It’s a generous tip, maybe even enough to make it worth working on Christmas Eve, and he pockets it. His eyes catch on a blur of red as he starts toward the pavement. He’s dismayed to see a brightly wrapped package lying where the BMW had been parked. Bending, he picks it up. The store is closing, and Merlin’s supposed to meet his mates at Gwen’s. But …it is Christmas Eve, and what if this present is important to that man?
Merlin goes inside to sign out, and before retrieving his coat from his locker downstairs, he finds the credit card information for the blond patron. He'd just make a quick call to Gwen and tell her he's going to be late.
An hour later, Merlin stands at the door of a posh flat, distinct sounds of a party going on inside. He looks at his watch. If he hurries and traffic cooperates, he won't be too late to Gwen's. In all honestly, a part of him would just rather head home and sleep and try to forget this is his first Christmas without his mother. Clutching the square package to his chest, Merlin rings the doorbell.
A tall, bearded man opens the door. “Hello! Happy Christmas! Come in!” He takes Merlin by the arm and pulls him inside. “I’m Leon.” Before Merlin can say a word, his coat is off and hung in the closet.
“Here, have some eggnog. I’m Sophia. Happy Christmas. Cold out there, isn’t it?” A blonde woman hands Merlin a cup before looping her arm through Leon’s and smiling.
“It certainly is,” Merlin answers. He starts to offer the gift, but a burst of laughter coming from the living area has Leon nudging Merlin that way to find a group of people milling about, chatting. A tall, thin tree graces one corner of the room, its limbs decorated, surprisingly, in Disney ornaments and small stuffed animals.
“What did you say your name is?” Leon asks.
“Erm, Merlin,” Merlin replies.
“Arthur, look who’s here! It’s Merlin!”
The man Merlin helped with his packages earlier turns his head, handsome features relaxed. He’s wearing a red sweater over a white dress shirt; as well as a pair of grey slacks that fit him just as well as the dress trousers he wore earlier; his blond hair is combed back from his face, and he sprawls leisurely on the carpet beside a little boy of about three years of age. Slow recognition and then a smile blooms on Arthur’s face when he spots Merlin with the present in his hands.
“By golly, Joshua, I believe Father Christmas has sent Merlin with your gift!” Arthur climbs to his feet.
Merlin quickly arranges his face into a smile. “That he did! ” He hands the box to Arthur with a flourish. Arthur’s eyes meet Merlin’s, a look passing between them.
Joshua, wearing bright green overalls with a reindeer embroidered on the bib,smiles brightly and reaches his arms out.
“Let me help you with it,” Arthur says, sitting in a chair and pulling Joshua to stand between his legs. Merlin watches with interest as the wrapping comes off to reveal the red caboose of a train. Joshua squeals, and everyone claps as Arthur crawls to the tree, attaching the caboose to the train set up under there.
“Leon?” Arthur calls, and Leon leans down to flip a switch. The train begins to puff and whistle, chugging along the tracks, moving beneath the branches of the tree. Joshua jumps up and down gleefully, clapping his hands, brown eyes alight with happiness and excitement.
“The choo-choo train, Daddy! Look at the choo-choo!”
“I know! Thank goodness Merlin ran into Father Christmas! I thought maybe he’d forgotten his promise to get it here tonight. Thank you, Merlin.” Arthur turns bright blue eyes Merlin’s way, and Merlin feels his heart leap in his chest.
“Thanks, Merwin,” Joshua says running over to give Merlin’s leg the briefest of perfunctory hugs before scrambling back down on his knees to examine the train. He looks back over his shoulder, small face scrunched up in thought. "Are you an elf?"
Merlin laughs. "No. Just helping Father Christmas out a bit."
Merlin watches the little boy for a moment before turning to Arthur. “Well, now that I’ve delivered Father Christmas’s present, I’d best be going.” He turns for the door, very glad he took the time to get the gift to its owner.
“Wait,” Arthur’s voice follows him into the foyer.
Merlin stops, turning around.
“Cheers, Merlin, for tracking me down,” Arthur tells him. “It was an important gift.”
“I can see that,” Merlin smiles. “I was happy to do it.”
“Please stay and have some food with us.”
Merlin looks over Arthur’s shoulder at the group of people milling about. “I couldn’t intrude.”
“Nonsense,” Arthur says, smiling. “It’s just a hodgepodge of friends. I’d like for you to stay.”
Is Merlin imagining the look of interest in Arthur’s eyes? His heart speeds up even more. He can’t deny the attraction he feels for Arthur, but there’s the child…Is Arthur married?
Arthur stares at him beseechingly, and Merlin can’t refuse.
“Well, maybe for a bit.”
Arthur’s grin is contagious.
An hour later, Merlin and Arthur are talking books as the party goes on around them. They’ve already agreed to loan each other half their respective libraries, and Merlin is telling Arthur that Charles Dickens is undoubtedly the most genius of all authors, ever.
“His characterization…” Merlin says. “And this time of year, I always re-read A Christmas Carol. Did you know, when Dickens wrote it, the average age of death in London was twenty-two?”
Arthur’s looking at Merlin with an odd, soft look, and Merlin tilts his head. “What? What is it?”
Arthur shakes his head. “Nothing. You just reminded me of someone I used to know, that’s all.”
“Really? Who?” Merlin asks. Having stuffed themselves full of finger food, everyone around them has broken off into groups, chatting, watching television, and playing games. Joshua is asleep on the couch between Merlin and Arthur, his head pillowed on Arthur’s leg, his feet splayed in Merlin’s lap.
“Joshua’s father,” Arthur says.
“Oh.” Merlin doesn’t know what to say to that. He looks down at the little boy, so adorable in sleep; his bow-shaped lips parted; lush, dark lashes fanning cheeks flushed from play.
“His name was Lance, and he was my best friend. Joshua’s mother died in childbirth, and I promised Lance that if anything should ever happen to him, I’d raise Joshua for him.” Arthur looks sad. “I never in a million years thought I’d have to keep that promise just nine months later.”
“I’m sorry,” Merlin says.
“Don’t be,” Arthur sighs. “I miss Lance, but Joshua’s the best thing that ever happened to me.” He reaches down and strokes the dark hair from the little boy’s face.
Later, Merlin types a second text to Gwen, giving his regrets that he won’t be making it over there at all that night.
Are you sure you're not just saying that so you can go home and go to bed?
Merlin assures her that's not the case, and she texts back, In that case, good luck with Arthur of the Awesome Arse! Merlin can’t help but smile, pocketing his mobile. He really tells Gwen way too much.
He winds up staying to help Arthur clean up after his guests leave.
“I wanted to flirt with you today at the department store, but I didn’t have time,” Arthur tells him. “I left all my shopping to the last minute; I’ve had to work so much lately.” He turns and takes Merlin’s hand, asking him flirtatiously, “Tell me; did you notice me at all?”
Merlin colours. “I admit I may have snuck a look at your bum while you were loading the trunk.”
Arthur throws his head back and laughs. “I’ll tell you a secret,” he says. “I’m wearing the Christmas pants my sister gave me. Would you like to see them?” He raises a brow.
Merlin’s blush deepens, but he nods.
Arthur turns around, and unbuckling his trousers, he lowers them just enough to reveal the bright red underpants with white lettering that read, Jingle My Bells over the tempting globes of Arthur’s bottom.
“Oh, my God!” Merlin bursts out laughing.
Arthur re-does his trousers. “I know. She has quite the sense of humour.”
Attraction zips between them, strong and palpable, and Merlin takes a step forward.
“Perhaps I can jingle those bells for you,” Merlin says throatily, trying and failing to suppress a grin.
Arthur smirks. “Perhaps you can.” He pulls Merlin closer, lips brushing over his. “Have anything against dating a man who has a child?”
Merlin pretends to consider. “No, I don’t think so.” He leans in. “You’re standing under the mistletoe,” he says and kisses Arthur’s mouth, which is soft and pliable against his lips. He moves the tip of his tongue to touch Arthur’s, and Arthur makes a low humming noise in his throat.
Arthur wraps his arms around Merlin, drawing their bodies together. “I don’t have any mistletoe,” he says against Merlin’s mouth, their breath mingling.
“Well, it sounded good,” Merlin smiles, kissing Arthur again and again, thinking this Christmas is shaping up to be a pretty good one after all.