Archive of Our Own ^omega

It is a truth universally acknowledged that a single man in possession of a good fortune...

*

“Happy birthday!”

“I told you I didn’t need a cake,” Merlin said as Gwen set down a confectionery masterpiece she probably whipped up in an afternoon.

“It’s not a cake,” she reprimanded him, taking her seat across the table. Beside her, Gwaine tossed back what was left of his beer. “It’s a tart. And you also said you didn’t want to do anything for your birthday.”

“I stand by that.” Merlin had very little desire to celebrate the fact that he was getting older.

“Welcome to middle age,” Gwaine said, cracking open another bottle and toasting Merlin.

“I’m thirty-five. I’m not dead,” Merlin pointed out.

“Not yet.”

Merlin didn’t think Gwaine had much room to talk considering his birthday was only a few months away.

“Gifts!” Gwen interrupted, shooting Gwaine a look.

Leaning back in his chair, Merlin sighed. His flat was small, dim, with only one window that looked out over the city. The three of them barely fit in his dining room, if it could be called that. If Gwaine had decided to bring Percy, they would have had to move the celebration somewhere else. Merlin hadn’t asked where Percy was when Gwaine showed up alone.

“I think you’ll appreciate this,” Gwaine said as Merlin picked up his poorly-wrapped gift. Uneasy, Merlin unwrapped it carefully. Knowing Gwaine, there could be anything inside.

“A dildo?” he asked doubtfully as he got the wrapping off and opened the box to reveal a bright pink dildo. Pulling it out, he shot Gwaine a look as Gwen seemed to sigh.

“Not just any dildo,” Gwaine said eagerly. “It’s ribbed and motorized, for her pleasure.”

“I have a boyfriend, remember?” Merlin asked, setting aside the pink monstrosity. Also, he had plenty of those, and none that had probably come in a box with a bow on it.

“Mm-hmm,” Gwaine hummed doubtfully. Merlin frowned at his response. “And where is Mordred tonight?”

“Working,” Merlin replied shortly. He didn’t need to explain his boyfriend’s whereabouts to Gwaine. Gwaine had made it perfectly clear that he thought Mordred wasn’t good enough for Merlin. It wasn’t that Mordred was younger than him, by about eight years, or that Mordred never seemed to be around when Gwaine was, or that Mordred didn’t disguise his dislike of Gwaine and his lifestyle. Merlin wasn’t exactly sure what it was, but Gwaine had never exactly welcomed him into the fold.

“Open my gift,” Gwen said abruptly, shoving a bag into Merlin’s hands.

Gwaine merely shrugged. “You can never have too many toys.”

It wasn’t worth it to fight, Merlin decided, so he took Gwen’s gift, pulling out the paper.

“Is this…?” he asked as he pulled out a book, the cover old and frayed, the words in golden letters faded across the front.

“First edition,” Gwen replied, beaming. “Found it on eBay.”

“That’s incredible,” Merlin breathed, turning the book open to the first page and the words he had memorized. “Pride and Prejudice is my favorite.”

“I know,” she said, patting his arm.

“I can’t wait to show my students,” he said, setting the book aside and hugging Gwen. “Thanks.”

“Where was my hug?” Gwaine protested.

“When your dildo quotes classic novels, you’ll get a hug.”

“It could probably do that,” Gwaine said with a shrug. “Technology has advanced.”

Sitting back in his chair, Merlin actually smiled. His birthday had never been a big deal, and now that he had hit thirty-five, he figured it was all downhill from here. After all, he still wasn’t married and he didn’t have kids. He was beginning to run out of time.

“Save a piece for Milo,” Merlin said as Gwen cut the tart into pieces and handed them out.

She shook her head as she passed him a plate. “That child does not need any sugar, believe me. He’s really taken to football lately. I think he’s going to take after Lance quite a bit as he gets older.”

“He’s, what?” Gwaine asked, mouth full of raspberries and jam. “Eight now?”

“Nine,” Gwen corrected. “Though it doesn’t feel like it.”

Merlin had to agree. He could still remember Gwen and Lance’s wedding all those years ago. Where had the time gone?

“It’s because you’re old,” Gwaine said, shoving another forkful of tart in his mouth.

“And what does that make you?” Merlin asked. “Thirty-four and still fucking around?”

Gwaine didn’t even pretend to be insulted. “I have a healthy sex life with multiple partners, and Percy.”

“You’re never going to settle down, are you?”

“Why?” Gwaine asked, kicking up his feet and reclining in his chair. “Who wants to be tied down? Have to come home to the same person every day?”

“You come home to Percy,” Merlin pointed out and Gwaine shrugged.

“It’s not the same. We have an open relationship. We don’t need to ask permission to fuck around if we want to. Simple. Easy. Beautiful. You should try it.”

“No thanks.” Merlin rolled his eyes. He had no desire to be like Gwaine. “I’d rather have a committed, loving relationship.”

“I’m committed,” Gwaine said. “Committed to having a good time. But you go play house with Mordred if that makes you happy.”

Gwaine didn’t say it like a dig, but it was. Merlin could tell.

“There’s nothing wrong with wanting to be with one person for the rest of your life.”

“Of course not,” Gwaine said, and it was sincere this time. “Just not Mordred, right?”

“Gwaine,” Merlin warned, but Gwen put her hands on the table between them.

“That’s enough. We’re here to celebrate.” She raised her glass and Gwaine followed suit, obediently. Merlin hesitated, but in the end, he raised his as well. “To getting older and, hopefully, wiser.”

Merlin clinked his bottle with the rest of them. Maybe thirty-five wouldn’t be so bad. Maybe it might even be his year.

*

“Professor Emrys!”

Merlin stopped just short of the staff room door. “Yes, Mr. Cavanaugh?” Merlin turned to face the boy standing behind him.

“I was hoping you might be able to give me an extension on the essay due tomorrow,” the boy said, sweeping his hair to the side. He was one of those boys Merlin would have given anything to notice him back in school. These days, they just exhausted Merlin with their easy attitudes that got them everything they wanted. “It’s just, my grandmother’s in the hospital and I’ve been busy all week at home.”

“Get me a note from your grandmother’s doctor and you can have until Monday. Otherwise, two thousand words on Chaucer on my desk tomorrow, Mr. Cavanaugh,” Merlin said, leaving the frowning boy behind as he slipped into the blissful peace of the staff room.

Several teachers sat around the table in the middle of the room and Merlin crossed to where the kettle sat on a file cabinet. He poured himself a mug and added a tea bag to it before sliding into a seat across from where Mithian sat grading a stack of papers.

“Is it just me or are kids’ lies becoming worse?” he asked, blowing on his tea.

“It’s not just you,” Mithian murmured without looking up. “The other day, a year eleven told me his pet frog died and he needed to take the day off.”

“Send him to my class,” Elena piped in from down the table. “I can’t get my students to look at a dead frog, let alone dissect it.”

“You should suggest that as punishment to the headmaster,” Mithian said, still buried in her papers.

“I don’t think he’d go for it,” Elena said thoughtfully.

Shaking his head, Merlin pulled out his phone. Teaching teenagers was never easy, though he’d take it over teaching primary school.

Bringing up his messages, he automatically checked, but there was nothing from Mordred. Not that he’d been expecting anything, but a belated birthday message might have been nice.

His heart jumped as a message came through a second later, but it wasn’t Mordred. His excitement faded as soon as it had come as he clicked on the message from an unknown number.

It’s Arthur. I need to see you. Can we meet?

Merlin stared at the words on the screen. There they were, as if Arthur texted him all the time. It had been, what, thirteen years?

“Are you alright, Merlin?” Elena asked, and Merlin realized he’d been staring, eyebrows furrowed hard. Blinking, he set the phone face down.

“Fine,” he said shortly. “I’m fine.”

She nodded at his response but still frowned. Merlin looked away from her, curling his fingers around his mug and taking a long sip.

What could Arthur possibly want to talk about after all this time? As far as Merlin was concerned, they had nothing to discuss.

He didn’t respond to the text, sipping his tea until it was time for his sixth form class. At least the books never changed.

*

“You didn’t have to come,” Merlin said as he slid into a seat at the bar and Gwaine joined him. Percy was hanging up his coat by the door.

“A club is a club,” Gwaine said, though he was glancing around almost suspiciously. “Even if your boyfriend works here.”

Merlin shot him a look. “If you’re just going to insult him all night—”

“I’m here for a drink,” Gwaine interrupted as Percy joined them. “And maybe I’ll talk Perce into a threesome with that fit bloke down the bar.”

“Keep dreaming,” Percy replied, though he slid an arm around Gwaine’s waist anyway.

“Merlin!” Mordred appeared before them, wearing impossibly tight jeans and a tank top strategically ripped. He leaned over the bar to kiss Merlin, a little too sloppy, and maybe a little too showy considering they were in public. “And Gwaine,” Mordred went on, his tone dropping to something closer to annoyance.

Merlin wished they could just get along. He wasn’t sure why they disliked each other, but it made everything more difficult.

“You want your usual?” Mordred asked, completely ignoring Gwaine now.

“Sure,” Merlin agreed, glancing around the club. It wasn’t very busy for the hour, but it was a Thursday.

“You old enough to serve alcohol?” Gwaine asked, ignoring Merlin’s glare.

“Aren’t you getting a little old to be in here?” Mordred asked, cracking open a bottle for Merlin.

“Merlin’s older than me,” Gwaine said, and Merlin pinched his leg in response. Gwaine jerked and glared.

Merlin was sick of this petty fighting. It wasn’t like Gwaine was dating Mordred.

Mordred’s look could have soured milk, but he breezed away as someone else called for his attention. Merlin immediately turned to Gwaine.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” he demanded. “Why can’t you just be nice to him?”

“Because you can do so much better than a twenty-five year old club kid,” Gwaine replied. “You know, date someone who doesn’t pay his rent in singles.”

Merlin glared. “It’s none of your business who I date. If you came with me just so you could put him down, I think you should leave.”

Gwaine opened his mouth, but Percy had a hand on his arm, pulling him up. “Come on,” he said simply. “I’ll let you chat up that bloke. Take him home?”

Gwaine’s mouth twitched as he frowned at Merlin. He seemed to be debating arguing further. A part of Merlin wanted him to. He felt tensed up, wound up with stress, Arthur’s text lingering in the back of his mind. He could use a good row, and Gwaine wouldn’t hold back.

At length, Gwaine turned from Merlin, almost forcefully, sliding his arm around Percy’s waist instead.

“I wanna take you home,” he said instead. “Get you on your back.”

Percy smiled, steering Gwaine towards the exit. “Okay.”

Merlin watched them go, anger still bubbling to the surface. Gwaine had the audacity to judge his relationship with Mordred when his own was just as convoluted.

“Good, he’s gone.” Mordred reappeared, a disgusted look on his face.

Merlin rubbed his forehead. He hated being in the middle of this. “If you guys could just—”

“I will when he does,” Mordred interrupted sharply. “But he won’t, so why bother talking about it?”

“He’s not that bad usually,” Merlin said, though he wasn’t sure why he was defending Gwaine after what just happened. Maybe because Gwaine had been his best friend for the last ten years and he’d only known Mordred a few months.

“He’s a dick,” Mordred said simply, pushing his curls out of his face. “He’s slept with everyone in here.”

“Not everyone,” Merlin corrected. Not that Gwaine hadn’t offered back when they’d first met.

“That’s right,” Mordred said, leaning over the counter into Merlin’s space. “I get off at one. How about I come over to your flat and you can fuck me until we wake your neighbors?”

Merlin smiled into his beer. “I will not be awake at one AM.”

“Not even for my ass?” Mordred asked, arching an eyebrow. “Fuck, you’re so old, Merlin.”

“When you get to be my age, you won’t be up that late either.”

Mordred scoffed. “I won’t ever be your age. The good die young, remember?”

Merlin shook his head. “Thirty-five is practically dead?”

“For a gay guy? Yeah.” Mordred shrugged. “We peak at twenty-five.”

“You’re twenty-five now,” Merlin pointed out. Sometimes it was painfully apparent how young Mordred was. “And you’re sleeping with me, who is practically dead apparently.”

“I wanted a sugar daddy,” Mordred said simply and Merlin laughed.

“You should have picked someone with money.”

“Well, I’ll dump you when he comes along,” Mordred said, smiling at Merlin.

“Reassuring.” Merlin could only think of one person who might fit that description, but damned if Mordred would ever meet him.

Mordred tapped the counter. “Well, if you’re not gonna fuck me, I’m gonna go charm those old blokes at the end of the bar to buy me a leather jacket.”

Merlin shook his head at Mordred. It was probably those kinds of flippant remarks that Gwaine didn’t like about Mordred. Merlin knew it was just a joke, though, so he smiled.

“Get one for me.”

“I’ll try.”

Mordred left and Merlin turned to the dance floor. Even at twenty-five, he wouldn’t have gone to a place like this. He preferred to meet guys the old-fashioned way—furtively trying to catch their eyes at the grocery store or else getting set up on terrible blind dates by Gwen or Gwaine. Gwen’s were always boring and Gwaine’s always wanted a one-night stand.

Merlin had been in a lot of relationships over the years, but none had ever quite stuck. He’d been so sure he would have found someone by now, someone real. He wasn’t sure how much longer he could keep trying to find The One until he just gave up. Mordred was fun, and Merlin could see it going somewhere. Maybe. It was hard to say.

As he watched Mordred flirting with the two blokes at the other end of the counter, he sighed. His hand closed around his phone in his pocket and he frowned. Arthur’s text surfaced in his mind again.

I need to see you.

Well, Merlin didn’t need to see Arthur, and that was that.

*

The sun was almost unbearably warm for once, and Merlin hid in the shade of a tree near the edge of the football pitch. A bunch of kids in ugly uniforms ran around the field while parents shouted from the sidelines.

“You look like you’re melting,” Gwen said as she approached Merlin, handing him a bottle of water.

“Do matches have to be played outside?” he asked, his eyes falling on Milo, a skinny kid with a mop of brown hair.

“It’s a beautiful day,” Gwen pointed out. “And Milo likes it when you come.”

Merlin jerked his shoulders. Gwen turned to watch the match as they stood there. Lance was out in the sun, a hand over his eyes, probably getting sunburned.

For a long minute, they didn’t speak, but Merlin wasn’t paying attention to the match. Football had always bored him to death, but he put that aside for Milo, his favorite godson. Football always reminded him of someone else.

“I got a text,” he said before he could stop himself. Gwen glanced at him briefly. Merlin took a breath. “From Arthur.”

“Arthur?” she repeated, frowning. “But you haven’t spoken to him since—”

“Yeah, exactly,” Merlin said, clutching the phone in his pocket.

“Well, what did he say?”

“He wanted to meet up.”

Gwen looked away. “Hm.”

“Hm what?”

She shrugged. “I don’t know.”

Merlin frowned this time. “You don’t know anything about this? I know you guys are still friends.”

“We’re not really—Lance sees him sometimes. That’s all,” she said sincerely. Merlin wasn’t so sure about that. “So are you going to see him?”

“What for?” Merlin had no reason to answer Arthur’s message.

“It could be important.”

“Thirteen years and now it’s important?” Merlin asked, crossing his arms.

“People change,” Gwen said easily. She tucked back a curl and sighed. “You could at least see what he wants.”

“Arthur doesn’t change,” Merlin replied. He could be stubborn too.

“You never know. It has been a long time. What do you really have to lose by finding out?”

“Oh, I don’t know,” Merlin said, sarcastic. “My dignity, self-respect.”

“Arthur really affects all of those things?” Gwen asked, appealing to Merlin. “You’re an adult, Merlin. This isn’t Uni anymore.”

“Why aren’t you on my side?” he asked suspiciously. The thought of seeing Arthur again put his stomach in knots, and not the good kind. Gwen should have been telling him he was perfectly right to ignore him.

“I am,” she assured him. “But part of that is not letting you not close the chapters of your life. Arthur is one you never did.”

Merlin frowned. That wasn’t exactly true. Time was supposed to heal all wounds.

He didn’t reply to her, turning to watch the match instead. He hated to admit that she was right. Maybe he should just get it over with. He grimaced at the thought. He hated when she was right.

*

Merlin’s leg bounced up and down as he tried to stop himself from checking the door every time the bell tinkled as it opened. The aroma of coffee wafted around him, the noise of the cafe’s mellow soundtrack interrupted by the latte machine. Merlin’s book sat abandoned on the table. He’d tried for all of two minutes to read, but he was too distracted.

Any minute now, Arthur was going to walk through that door and either everything would be the the same or nothing would be.

Merlin still wasn’t sure he should have ever responded to the text. Maybe they all would have been better off if he’d just ignored it. Gwen didn’t know what was best.

The door tinkled again and Merlin’s head shot up despite his best efforts. His eyes fell on Arthur immediately, his heart thudding in his chest, panicked, nervous.

Arthur hadn’t changed much over the years except the few wrinkles around his eyes, and, to Merlin’s surprise, the glasses on his face. He was still fit, a handsome square jaw, crooked teeth as he smiled at Merlin.

Merlin’s stomach flipped over and he straightened up as Arthur neared his table.

“Wow,” Arthur said as he reached Merlin, eyes skimming down him. “You have not changed at all.”

“Likewise,” Merlin said, swallowing down the lump rising in his throat.

It was the same and yet not. Merlin couldn’t put his finger on the way things were sort of awkward but like no time had passed at all.

“Did you want to order something or—” Arthur started, but Merlin cut him off.

“I just want to know why, after all these years, you finally texted me back.”

Arthur shifted in his chair, but he didn’t look uncomfortable, not the way that Merlin felt right now.

“It’s been fifteen years,” he said, as though that was supposed to explain something.

Merlin frowned. “Fifteen since years since what?”

Arthur smiled, like Merlin amused him. Like the past had never happened.

“You just had your birthday, didn’t you?” he asked, and Merlin paused. He was surprised Arthur remembered.

“Yeah.”

Arthur leaned forward. “Do you remember your twentieth birthday?”

Frowning, Merlin leaned back, eyes on his book. “Vaguely.”

“I remember making a deal that night.”

Merlin’s gaze snapped back to Arthur as a memory hit him full in the face, something he hadn’t thought about in years. “You can’t be serious.”

“We did say thirty-five, didn’t we?”

Merlin stared at Arthur, torn between laughter and panic. “Are you serious?”

Arthur shrugged in that easy, relaxed manner he’d always managed to perfect. Merlin hated it. He hated everything about Arthur from his perfectly golden hair to his crinkled blue eyes, the V in his shirt, that fact that he was wearing jeans.

“Are you single?” Arthur asked instead and Merlin scoffed.

“No!” he said forcefully. “I’m seeing someone, and you can’t just waltz back into my life after thirteen years of no contact and expect me to honor some agreement we made when we were twenty and completely fucked-up drunk in some stranger’s bedroom at two in the morning.”

Arthur didn’t reply for a moment, too calm for Merlin’s anger.

“Thought you didn’t remember that night?”

Merlin looked away, sighing. God damn Arthur.

“We were stupid and drunk and young, and there’s no way you actually called me up for this,” he said instead. Grabbing his book off the table, he stood up. “Maybe I’ll see you again in thirteen years.”

He left Arthur sitting at the table, the door bell tinkling behind him as he stepped out into the drizzle of rain and headed for the Underground. He should never have come.

*

“How many have you had?”

Merlin bounced as Arthur flopped onto the bed next to him. The sheets smelled vaguely of weed and vanilla, a weird combination, but Merlin didn’t mind. His mind was pleasantly cloudy.

“This many,” Merlin said, holding up five fingers above his face. “No, wait, this many.” He held up another finger.

Arthur laughed beside him. “You’re such a lightweight.”

“It’s my birthday,” Merlin protested, digging his fingers into Arthur’s side. Arthur squirmed away from him. “I’m twenty now. I’m so old.”

“Hey, I’m older,” Arthur pointed out, sliding an arm behind his head and sighing up at the ceiling. Merlin settled in beside him.

“By, like, two months.”

“Still.”

Muffled music thudded under the door, and Merlin gazed at the black light poster taped to the wall behind him. He wasn’t even sure whose flat this was.

Arthur was warm beside him; Merlin could feel it. Of course, he could also feel the six drinks he’d had, making his face hot, his body light, free.

“D’you think Gilli broke up with me because I talk too much?” he asked at length.

“No, I think he’s an asshole,” Arthur replied. “You can do better.”

“But what if I can’t?” Merlin glanced over at Arthur, at the curve to his nose, his eyelashes resting against his cheeks as he lay there with his eyes closed.

“You can,” Arthur assured him.

“But what if I die old and alone and sad?” Merlin asked. He wished he had another drink.

Arthur opened his eyes. “You won’t.”

“But what if I do?”

Arthur seemed to think for a minute. “Then I’ll marry you.”

Merlin burst out laughing. “You’ll marry me? Get down on one knee, give me a ring? Buy a house in the country with a bunch of dogs?”

“Fuck yeah,” Arthur murmured. “We could do that.”

Merlin paused, gazing at Arthur. His heart had started to beat faster but his mind still felt cloudy, dizzy.

“So, like, when we’re thirty-five, if we’re not married, we’ll just get married?”

“Sure,” Arthur agreed, pulling Merlin down, an arm snug around his neck. “But I’m sure you’ll find someone better than me by then.”

“And if I don’t?”

Arthur smiled against Merlin’s hair. “Then I’ll see you in fifteen years.”

Merlin didn’t reply, closing his eyes and breathing in Arthur’s aftershave mixed with the weird smell of the strange bed.

“I need another drink,” Arthur said after a minute, pushing himself up and pulling Merlin with him. “And so do you, Birthday Boy.”

Merlin smiled as Arthur tugged him from the room and back to the party.

*

“You know, I invited you over to watch the match,” Gwaine said, staring over Merlin’s pile of papers at him.

“These won’t mark themselves.”

“Just give them all sixties,” Gwaine said, cracking open a beer and tossing the top on the counter.

The television was playing a rugby match, but Merlin had a stack of essays to grade.

“You’d make a terrible teacher.”

“I know.” Gwaine turned down the volume, though. “You want to catch a movie after this?”

“What’s playing?” Merlin really shouldn’t have been considering wasting more time, but it was better than sitting at home and thinking about Arthur. Ever since he’d gotten that text, ever since he’d seen Arthur, it seemed to be ingrained in his brain.

“I don’t know.” Gwaine grabbed Merlin’s phone off the couch and unlocked it. “Let’s see.”

“Well?” Merlin asked when Gwaine didn’t speak for a minute.

“Who’s Arthur?”

Merlin’s head snapped up, a jolt in his stomach at the name. “Why are you looking at my messages?” he demanded instead, snatching the phone back from Gwaine, who let him take it.

“It was open.” Gwaine shrugged. “So who is he? New boyfriend? Did you finally dump Mordred?”

“No,” Merlin said with a scowl. “He’s no one. Just some guy I used to know.”

“Used to date?”

“No.”

“You almost got my hopes up, Merlin,” Gwaine said, collapsing into the couch. “Thought maybe you’d found somebody decent.”

“Arthur is not decent,” Merlin muttered.

“Who’s Arthur?” Percy appeared from down the hall, grabbing a beer from the fridge and taking the seat next to Gwaine.

“Merlin’s mystery friend,” Gwaine supplied.

“Great,” Merlin said. Just what he needed. Everyone to know.

At least Percy didn’t pry, but then, Merlin didn’t know Percy all that well. He and Gwaine had been ‘dating’ for lack of a better term for six months. Merlin supposed Gwaine ought to be commended for keeping a guy around that long since Merlin couldn’t seem to be able to do it. Maybe there was something to the open relationship concept.

“Arthur is nobody,” Merlin said firmly, moving his stack of papers to the side. “Just someone I knew at Uni. I haven’t seen him in years.”

“Except for Saturday,” Gwaine pointed out, and Merlin scowled.

“It was just coffee.”

“Hey, you can have coffee with whoever you want,” Gwaine said seriously, resting a hand on Percy’s thigh. “Right? We all can have coffee with whoever we want.”

Merlin didn’t roll his eyes but he wanted to. Gwaine didn’t know Arthur. They’d never met, and as far as Merlin was concerned, they never would.

“No judgments,” Gwaine said, raising his hands in the air.

“There’s nothing to judge,” Merlin said simply. “I’m not going to see him again.”

“Whatever you want,” Gwaine said, though Merlin got the feeling he didn’t quite believe him.

“I have to finish marking these,” he said, grabbing his stack and rising from the couch.

“Oh, come on,” Gwaine said, pouting at Merlin. “I’m just taking the piss. No more talk about what’s-his-face unless you want to. I believe you, okay?”

Sighing, Merlin sat back down. “There’s nothing going on.”

“Exactly.” Gwaine grinned and set his feet over Percy’s lap as he turned the volume back up on the TV.

Merlin wasn’t paying attention to the match as he picked up another essay. He had to believe it was true or else he’d never get on with his life.

*

“How was your weekend?” Mithian asked as Merlin entered the staff room Monday morning. He passed where she stood over the copier and headed for the kettle.

“Long,” he replied, pouring himself a mug.

“I hear you,” she agreed as the copier chugged out papers.

“Do your friends meddle in your life?” he asked as he returned to where she stood.

She smiled at him. “Constantly. Though it has gotten a lot better since I got married.”

“You’ve been married two years now?” Merlin could never keep other people’s relationships straight. He could barely keep his own.

“Almost. But when I was single, it was like my happily married friends wouldn’t stop trying to make me as happy as them.”

“Which is miserable,” Merlin added, thinking of the blind dates Gwen used to set him up on. At least he had Mordred now, although that didn’t stop Gwaine from meddling.

Mithian hummed in agreement.

“So how’d you stop them?”

“I got married,” she said with a shrug. “Not that I did it to stop the meddling, but it definitely helped.”

“That’s my only option, eh?”

She tossed back her hair and shuffled her papers. “Just find someone who makes you happy and maybe they’ll back off.” Grabbing her papers, she left the staff room.

Merlin wasn’t sure how to do that. He was happy with Mordred but no one else seemed to be. Taking out his phone, he pulled up Mordred’s message thread, ignoring Arthur’s name at the top of his screen.

Dinner tonight? he texted.

Come by the club and I’ll get you a freebie, came Mordred’s response with a winky face attached.

At least Merlin had something to distract him, he thought, as he opened up the copier to start his own day.

*

The club was busier tonight, and Merlin had to wade through bodies to reach the bar. He could see Mordred serving some guys, putting on his best sly smirk for the customers. Merlin was glad Gwaine wasn’t there to see it as he slid up to the bar.

Mordred nodded at him with a smile as he came over. “The usual?”

“What time do you get off?” Merlin asked over the music thudding in his eardrums.

“Late,” Mordred replied, quirking an eyebrow. “You think your old man body will be up for an after party?”

“Funny,” Merlin replied, taking the drink Mordred handed him. He did admit that Mordred had a point. Merlin wasn’t the type to stay out all night. He never had been.

“Or maybe you’ll find someone more your speed,” Mordred said, and Merlin frowned. Mordred nodded behind him. “That old guy is checking you out.”

Merlin turned, expecting to find a fifty year old guy, but instead, he saw Arthur moving towards him.

“Shit,” he muttered, turning back to Mordred as Mordred looked confused. He felt more than saw Arthur step up beside him.

“Can I get a—”

“Gin and tonic, on the rocks,” Merlin finished for him, turning to face Arthur, who raised an eyebrow. “Are you stalking me now?”

“I don’t stalk,” Arthur replied, taking the seat next to Merlin despite Merlin’s glare.

“Then what are you doing here?”

Mordred reappeared with Arthur’s drink, sliding it over to him. He didn’t leave, though, leaning on his elbow and shooting Merlin a look. Merlin could have just disappeared, sunk right through the floor and vanished.

“You two know each other?” Mordred asked, eying Arthur.

“Arthur,” Arthur said, extending his hand to Mordred. Well, he still had has all his charm. “Pendragon.”

“Pendragon,” Mordred repeated. “As in Pendragon Corp that owns half of London.”

“Not exactly half,” Arthur said with a self-deprecating smile that only made Merlin angrier.

“It’s more like two-thirds,” Merlin muttered. “If you’re going to lie, at least do it right.”

“I think I’ll leave you to it,” Mordred said with a glance at Merlin. “I’ll see you after my shift.”

Arthur watched Mordred leave while Merlin wished his usual drink was far stronger tonight.

“Is that your boyfriend?” Arthur asked, but Merlin ignored him. It was one thing to get a cup of coffee. It was another for Arthur to show up at the club where Mordred worked. If Merlin knew anything about Arthur, it was that there were no coincidences if he was involved.

“What are you doing here?”

“Came for a drink,” Arthur said, raising his glass. “I’d propose a toast but I’m not sure you’d agree.”

Merlin frowned, pulling his drink closer. “What exactly are you expecting to happen, Arthur? Fifteen years later, you think I’m going to drop everything and honor some stupid drunken agreement?”

“Verbal agreements are legally binding in—”

“Don’t even,” Merlin cut him off. “You’re not an attorney. You work for your father turning apartment buildings into parking lots one by one. What did you think was going to happen after thirteen years of no communication? Was that not enough of a hint for you?”

Arthur paused, tossing back his drink. Merlin wanted an answer. A real answer.

“You’re upset.”

“Brilliant,” Merlin said, shaking his head. “You don’t even know why, do you?” Arthur didn’t reply and Merlin scoffed, finishing off his drink and sliding off his stool. “You’re so fucking full of yourself, you know that?”

“Merlin, wait,” Arthur said as Merlin stepped away.

Merlin shouldn’t have stopped, but he did, turning around. It had always been a problem with Arthur, walking away, saying no.

“Just meet me for lunch, okay?”

Merlin shook his head. “I don’t know why I would.”

“Please,” Arthur said, and something deep in Merlin’s chest throbbed, just like it used to. “I want to talk to you.”

“We’re talking right now.”

“We’re arguing right now,” Arthur corrected him. It didn’t endear him to Merlin. The thing that did was the way Arthur sighed, the way he used to do after a conversation with his father, like he was simply giving in, too tired to fight.

“Fine,” Merlin said at length, despite his better judgment. “But not lunch. I work.”

“Dinner,” Arthur supplied. “I’ll text you the details.”

He didn’t want to forgive Arthur was the thing. He’d spent thirteen years angry and upset, and one dinner wasn’t going to change anything. Still, he’d said yes.

Merlin left the club with his answer hanging over him. How was he going to get out of this one?

*

“We are officially adults now,” Arthur said, pulling on a black tee shirt.

“Is that why we’re drinking Patron out of the bottle?” Merlin asked, shaking the half-empty bottle as he sat on Arthur’s bed, watching Arthur rifle through his drawers.

“Mm-hmm,” Arthur replied, going to his closet and pulling out a jacket. “We survived undergrad. It’s out into the real world now.”

“Can’t we just stay in here?” Merlin asked, taking a swig and grimacing at the burn in his throat. “It’s safe in here.”

Arthur laughed, grabbing Merlin’s hand and pulling him up from the bed. Merlin stumbled slightly, already feeling the alcohol.

“We’re going out because after tonight—” He paused, taking the bottle from Merlin. “After tonight, everything’s going to be different.”

“You’re going to join the family business,” Merlin said, watching Arthur take too long of a drink. Arthur didn’t even grimace, wiping off his mouth and sighing.

“Guess I didn’t quite avoid it, did I?”

“There’s still time.”

Arthur shook his head. “Hey, come on. We’re going to celebrate, and we’re gonna get fucking sloshed.”

It sounded like a plan to Merlin.

*

“Merlin!” Gwen appeared out of the crowd, pulling him into the pub. “Where’s Arthur?”

“He’s getting drinks,” Merlin said, letting Gwen lead him over to a table where Lance already sat, along with Morgana and Leon. “Alright, guys?”

“So how does it feel?” Morgana asked, leaning across the table to be heard over the din. “You’re finally done.”

“With school anyway,” Merlin replied. “But I still have Assistantships to complete before I can really start teaching.”

“I don’t know why you’d want to be a teacher,” Morgana said, sipping her colorful drink.

“Better than being a real estate mogul,” Merlin said as Arthur returned with pints.

“It does pay the bills, though,” Morgana said with a glance towards Arthur.

“If you’re talking about me, I want to be in on it,” Arthur said, pushing into the booth next to Merlin, their legs pressed together.

“Just teasing you,” Morgana said easily. “You should have become a teacher like Merlin.”

Arthur scoffed into his pint. “Father would love that.”

“He already disapproves of everything I do, so you might as well follow suit.”

Arthur rolled his eyes and shoved Merlin’s pint towards him. “A toast to everyone, except Leon and Morgana, for making it through Uni, and to the next challenge.”

Glasses clinked and Merlin took a long swig. He could still feel Arthur’s leg pressed to his, and Arthur didn’t move it away as the conversation changed.

*

Merlin was not completely sloshed, as Gwen had said when she herded them from the pub and into a cab. He was pleasantly tipsy, just enough that everything seemed funnier, brighter, especially the lights in Arthur’s bedroom.

“Such a lightweight,” Arthur said, but he was swaying slightly as he sat down next to Merlin.

“I’m allowed,” Merlin said defiantly. “After all, the real world awaits.”

“Mmm,” Arthur hummed. “Paperwork and board meetings and agreeing with my father.”

“You don’t have to,” Merlin pointed out, leaning back against the wall. Arthur’s flat was so much bigger than his own, and he didn’t have an annoying flatmate leaving wet towels all over the bathroom. Merlin didn’t remember why they were in the bedroom instead of the living room. Arthur had come in here for something. Something… Merlin couldn’t remember what.

“I tried rebelling,” Arthur said, rolling his head to watch Merlin. “It didn’t really work for me.”

“That’s because you got a tattoo of a cartoon dragon on your arse,” Merlin said. “That no one ever sees.”

“People see.”

“Your father doesn’t,” Merlin corrected him. “So it doesn’t count.”

“At least I didn’t chicken out.”

Merlin frowned, pushing his hair from his face and gazing at Arthur. Arthur’s cheeks were pink, and Merlin knew he was slightly drunk even if he would deny it. Arthur’s eyes were still bright, though, lips soft and pink as they smiled at Merlin.

“Fuck off. I don’t like needles.”

“At least you’ll never be a junkie.”

Merlin shrugged as Arthur shifted closer, leaning back against the wall. It was late, later than Merlin usually stayed out, later than he was usually here with Arthur.

“I prefer the natural high,” Merlin murmured, closing his eyes for a minute. He felt tired, but it was a good kind of tired, like he could just drift off right there.

“Books,” Arthur supplied as Merlin nodded. “That reminds me. I got you something.”

Merlin opened his eyes as Arthur climbed off the bed and rummaged in his closet. “Were we supposed to do gifts?” He hadn’t gotten that memo.

“I just thought you’d like it,” Arthur said as he returned, climbing on next to Merlin, closer than before as he pressed a book into his hands.

Merlin turned it over slowly, his brain pleasantly fuzzy, though his stomach lurched slightly as he opened the cover.

“Signed by Jane Austen,” Arthur said, too close to Merlin, his breath ghosting over his neck.

“Emma,” Merlin breathed.

“Not quite your favorite, but second’s not bad.”

Merlin looked up at Arthur, a swirling emotion gathering in his chest, tightening. “You just thought I’d like it?”

“She’s your favorite, isn’t she?” Arthur asked. He smiled. “You babble about her constantly.”

Merlin wondered how drunk he really was when Arthur was suddenly too close, in his space, seeming to hover in an unspoken question.

“Yeah,” he said finally, the book slipping from his fingers as Arthur kissed him.

*

Merlin scanned the bookshelf, sliding his new/old copy of Pride and Prejudice in with the numerous other copies he owned, from the battered and bruised paperbacks he’d read a thousand times to the fancy hardbacks with golden inlaid flowers on the covers. He had multiple copies of all of Jane Austen’s works, though his gaze paused on the yellowed copy of Emma sitting on the shelf.

He reached for it, running a finger over the soft spine, sighing to himself.

A knock at the door made him jump, as though he’d been caught doing something shameful. Shaking himself, he turned from the bookshelf and wound around the furniture cluttering his living room. Merlin couldn’t be accused of being a minimalist.

He opened the door to Mordred leaning against the wall.

Mordred smiled. “Did I wake you?”

“Be quiet, you,” Merlin said, standing back to let him in. It wasn’t often that he met up with Mordred on nights Mordred worked. Mostly because Merlin wasn’t very good at staying up past eleven o’clock. He’d rather be in bed with a book and a cup of chamomile at that hour.

Merlin joined Mordred where he flopped on the couch, completely at ease, as though Merlin’s flat was his own. Merlin had only been to Mordred’s once or twice. Mordred constantly complained about his flatmates.

“You ran out there pretty fast today,” Mordred said after a minute, unbuttoning Merlin’s shirt a few buttons as though he just couldn’t stand him being so put together. “It didn’t have anything to do with that hot blond bloke, did it?”

“Didn’t you say he was old?”

Mordred shrugged. “Still fit.”

Merlin didn’t need Mordred thinking Arthur was fit. “He’s not that fit.”

Mordred raised an eyebrow, scooting into Merlin’s lap. “An old boyfriend?”

“No,” Merlin said, shaking his head. He didn’t really want to talk about Arthur, even if he had just agreed to dinner with him. He certainly wasn’t going to tell Mordred about that.

“An old hookup?”

“Didn’t you come over here to see me? Not talk about strangers?” Merlin asked, swallowing down the thud in his chest.

Mordred smirked after a second. “You sure you’re up for it?”

“Get in there,” Merlin said, shoving Mordred off his lap and towards the bedroom. Mordred only laughed as he left Merlin behind. Merlin rose, glancing only once at the bookshelf before following after.

*

“Oscar Wilde was—”

“Gay!”

The class tittered as Merlin sighed over his copy of Picture of Dorian Gray. “Mr. Cavanaugh.”

The boy only grinned at Merlin from behind his desk. Moving around his desk, Merlin leaned back against it and held up his copy again.

“Yes, he was gay. He was ostentatious. He was not afraid to say what he thought. And it got him thrown in prison. Dorian Gray is not just a novel about vanity; it’s a political stance.”

“Why’d he write it if he knew it would get him in trouble, sir?” One of the girls in the front row asked.

“Probably for that exact reason,” Merlin said with a smile. “Wilde was unpredictable. He was a practicing Catholic who also questioned the existence of God. He was a socialist and an anarchist. What have we been talking about in regards to political novels?”

The class was silent as Merlin looked around. Outside, rain drizzled down the window, clouds grey and angry in the distance.

No one raised a hand to answer, and Merlin sighed.

“Political novels are usually written as a comment on the status quo. If they were never written, things might never change.”

“What changed because of Oscar Wilde?” Cavanaugh asked, sweeping his hair back in a gesture so reminiscent of Arthur that Merlin lost his train of thought for a moment.

“His actions contributed greatly to the persecution of homosexuals and even brought about some of the stereotypes associated with gay men still prevalent in today’s society.” Merlin paused, glancing around at the blank faces that stared back at him. Sighing, he checked his watch. “Alright, that’s enough for today. Don’t forget to start on Machiavelli’s The Prince for tomorrow. We’ll continue this discussion then.”

His words were only greeted with scraping of chairs. The room was empty in a matter of minutes and Merlin followed the tide to the staff room, slipping inside and taking his usual chair across from Mithian and Elena.

“Do you suppose I could get away with assigning Harry Potter?” he asked, setting his head in his hands.

Elena patted his shoulder gently. “It does have lots of great themes.”

Shaking his head, Merlin sat back. It was always like this once they got to Oscar Wilde. Something about the end of the school year coupled with reading about parties and lavishness seemed to cause the students to stop paying attention.

“Oscar Wilde?” Mithian asked, getting up to refill her cup.

“All they are ever interested in is his sexuality.”

“They’re teenagers,” Mithian pointed out. “Sex is all they’re interested in right now.”

“Maybe I should assign Lady Chatterly.”

Mithian laughed. “I’m sure the Head would love that.”

“I’d enjoy it at least,” Merlin said, glancing out the window. He didn’t check his phone as he sat there. He didn’t want to know if there was a message from Arthur there, setting a time and place for this so-called dinner he’d agreed to.

“Not getting any?”

Merlin twirled a pen in his fingers. “Every thing’s fine with Mordred.”

“Is that the new boyfriend?”

“It’s been a month.” Merlin could probably stand to mention him a bit more.

“That’s a long time for you, isn’t it?” Elena asked, and if it were anyone else, Merlin might have mistaken it as a dig, but Elena was always sincere.

“I’ve had long relationships,” Merlin said, frowning. “I dated Owain for a year.”

Mithian smiled. “And then he wanted you to move and you didn’t.”

“He was moving to Bath!”

She raised a slim eyebrow. “What’s wrong with Bath?”

“I’m just not a seaside person,” Merlin said with a jerk to his shoulder. He could have moved with Owain. If he’d wanted to.

“You’re hopeless, Merlin,” she said simply. “There is no perfect person. You’re running out of time to be picky.”

Merlin scoffed, but deep down, something twisted his stomach. “Lots of people get married later these days.”

“You’re right,” Elena said easily. “I’m twenty-eight. There’s plenty of time to get married.”

Merlin wasn’t sure he could feel worse as Mithian set down a mug of tea in front of him and squeezed his shoulder.

*

Merlin supposed he could have been doing something helpful like chopping vegetables, but instead, he just sipped his wine and watched Gwen check the roast.

“Milo!” she called into the living room. “Turn off the TV and come set the table!”

“But Mu-um!” Milo replied and Gwen shook her head.

“Don’t worry,” Merlin said as she pulled down plates. “They get worse as they get older.”

She smiled. “Thank you for being so reassuring.” She turned to the opening again. “Milo!”

Lance entered the kitchen with Milo in tow a second later. “Help your mother.”

Milo made a face, but he took the plates out to the dining room without any more complaining.

“So how’s work?” Lance asked, pouring himself a glass of wine

“You know,” Merlin said with a shrug. “Teenagers only care about themselves. Just trying to cram classic novels through the self-involvement and hormones.”

“I’m so glad I’m not a teenager anymore,” Lance said with a laugh. “It’s probably a lot harder these days.”

Merlin paused as a thought surfaced as he watched Lance take a drink of his wine. “Speaking of. I saw Arthur the other day.”

“Did you?” Lance asked, avoiding Merlin’s gaze.

“He texted me. I wonder how he got my number after so long.”

Lance merely shrugged, turning to Gwen. “How’s the roast coming?”

“Lance,” Merlin said sharply. He hadn’t put it together until now, but seeing Lance hiding behind his glass, it made sense.

“He asked me if I still talked to you,” Lance said innocently. “I thought maybe you could finally work through this… thing.”

Merlin shook his head at Lance. He couldn’t believe it was that easy for his friends to betray him. “Why do you still talk to him anyway? Arthur’s a jerk.”

Lance gave Merlin that look like Merlin was being overly harsh. Merlin didn’t think he was.

“Because I’ve been friends with Arthur since I was Milo’s age,” Lance replied. “It’s not as if we talk every day. I see him a couple times a month for drinks.”

“And you talk about me?”

“No,” Lance said quickly. “No, we don’t talk about you. He just asked, kind of out of the blue. Look, you’re both my friends, and I think whatever happened between you two happened a long time ago.”

Merlin didn’t reply, finishing off his glass. He didn’t know what to say, torn between anger with Lance and disappointment that he still cared about Arthur.

“I didn’t mean to get in the middle of anything,” Lance said, and Merlin hated that he was always so sincere. It made it incredibly difficult to stay angry with him.

“I’m done!” Milo reappeared in the doorway. “Is it ready?”

“A few more minutes,” Gwen said, handing him a bottle of wine. “Why don’t you go fill the glasses.”

Merlin sighed at Lance. “What do you and Arthur have to talk about anyway? Rugby?”

“You used to enjoy talking rugby with Arthur,” Gwen reminded him as she pulled the roast from the oven.

“I used to like watching fit blokes running around in muddy shorts,” Merlin corrected her. He paused. “Still do. I bet Arthur only talks about work, doesn’t he? Has Uther ground away all his individuality by now?”

There was an awkward pause as Gwen and Lance exchanged a glance. Merlin got the feeling he was missing something obvious by the way they looked concerned.

“Uther died,” Lance said after the silence stretched uncomfortably. “A few years ago.”

“What?” Merlin heard himself say, almost an echo of himself as it sunk in.

“I’m surprised you didn’t know,” Gwen said, frowning as she cut into the roast. “It was all over the papers.”

Merlin didn’t know where he’d been that he hadn’t known. Of course it would have been in the papers. Uther Pendragon was a very powerful man in real estate, in business. The funeral had probably brought in hundreds of people. Merlin had a flash of Arthur sitting in a church pew, hands folded, tie a muted grey as everyone offered condolences.

He shook it away, though. He didn’t need to feel bad for Arthur.

“So Arthur took over the business?” he asked instead. “I’m sure he’s run plenty of people out of their homes in favor of shopping centres.”

Lance opened his mouth, but Gwen shoved a bowlful of salad in his hands.

“Dinner’s ready,” she said. “Merlin, could you grab the roast?”

Merlin took the plate from the counter and followed Lance to the dining room, though he suspected he was missing something, and it wasn’t the forks.

*

Merlin wasn’t completely sure why’d he’d agreed to dinner. Dinner was a long meal that involved a lot of talking. He was already thinking of excuses he could make when Arthur appeared at the table.

“You’re on time,” Arthur said, sounding surprised. He took his seat, draping the napkin over his lap. Merlin bristled slightly.

“It’s not that surprising.”

“If I recall, you were never where you were supposed to be,” Arthur said with a slight smile, but Merlin didn’t return it.

“People change.”

Arthur’s smile faltered, lips twisting. “This doesn’t have to be hostile, Merlin.”

“Then what should it be? I can’t pretend we’re still friends.” This whole thing was a mistake. He should never have agreed to it.

“I just wanted—”

“To talk,” Merlin interrupted, pushing at his silver wear. “So talk.”

He honestly wasn’t interested in anything Arthur had to say, but he was here. He could have been back at his flat reading painfully dreadful essays about how gay Oscar Wilde was.

Arthur actually fidgeted, a small jerk to his fingers as he pulled his hand off the table. “You’re still teaching?” he asked, and Merlin fought his sigh. So this was how they were going to do it. Small talk.

“Secondary English,” Merlin replied simply.

“I’m sure your students love you,” Arthur said, tilting his head to the side. “I always knew you’d be a great teacher.”

Merlin frowned, tapping his menu impatiently. “Why are you doing this?”

There had to be another reason. Arthur wouldn’t just show up after thirteen years to honor some stupid marriage agreement that had never been serious.

Arthur picked up the wine menu instead. “I left the company,” he said instead. “Or actually, I put Morgana in charge and started a non-profit.”

Merlin wasn’t sure what he was supposed to say to that. Was he supposed to be impressed? He didn’t want to be swayed by Arthur’s words, but something deep down actually felt, dare he say it, proud of Arthur. Even if Arthur had waited until Uther died to make his own path.

Merlin leaned forward over the table, lowering his voice because they were in a nice restaurant that probably frowned on the fact that Merlin hadn’t bothered to wear a jacket.

“Do you know why we’re not friends anymore, Arthur?” he asked, holding Arthur’s gaze. “Do you know why I was so surprised to see you after so long?”

His heart was beating faster as he watched Arthur. He wanted to hear Arthur say it, to acknowledge what he had done, how much he had hurt Merlin all those years ago.

It took a minute, but Arthur sighed, lowering his gaze. “I’m guessing it had something to do with that night.”

“Actually it had more to do with the next day,” Merlin said, swallowing down the lump in his throat at the memory. He’d tried so many times to just forget it, to repress that anything ever happened with him and Arthur. “When I saw you snogging Vivian outside the cafe, like the night before meant nothing.”

Merlin could still see it—Vivian in a yellow and white-flowered dress, leaning against the cafe, early afternoon sun pushing through the clouds. She had been doing that annoying hair twirl thing with her finger, standing so close to Arthur it couldn’t be anything but an invitation. Merlin had been so sure it was just her flirting, but Arthur had kissed her. He remembered the sun framing them, a golden glow around Arthur’s head, the pit in his stomach, that horrible empty feeling like all emotions had been sucked out of him.

He hadn’t turned from the scene quickly enough, not quickly enough to avoid Arthur seeing him. But Arthur hadn’t come after him. Instead, Merlin had squashed down the tears pricking at his eyes, his stomach crawling with despair, and fled the scene.

“I’m…” Arthur said after a long minute, not meeting Merlin’s eyes.

“Sorry?” Merlin supplied. “You’re about thirteen years too late.”

Merlin had been so sure that night, so sure that this was right and they’d just been waiting for no reason. He could still remember the way Arthur had touched him, careful but not hesitant, like he knew exactly what he wanted and Merlin was willing to let him have it.

“I know,” Arthur said finally. “I ruined probably the best friendship I ever had.”

Merlin wasn’t going to forgive Arthur, not that easily.

“I don’t understand,” he said, unable to keep the plaintiveness out of his voice. “Why would you do that?”

Arthur shook his head. “I don’t know. It shouldn’t have happened.”

“Which part?” Merlin asked, but the server showed up as he said it, a cheerful smile on his face.

“Can I get you gentlemen a drink?” he asked brightly.

Even Arthur seemed ruffled at the interruption, glancing carelessly at the wine list.

“Just bring a ‘98 Latour,” Arthur said dismissively. Merlin didn’t even want to know how much that cost.

“Excellent choice, sir,” the server said, scooping up the menu and leaving.

Arthur inclined over the table. “Listen, Merlin, I made a lot of mistakes when I was younger. And I know we can’t go back, and you may never forgive me for what I did, but I never regretted being your friend.”

Merlin still didn’t know why Arthur had turned around and snogged Vivian like that. Had he just been drunk the night before? Caught up in the moment? Arthur had always been open about his bisexuality, but Merlin had never expected it to affect him like that. It wasn’t even that it was Vivian, that it was a girl. It was that Arthur hadn’t even hesitated to kiss someone else, like he had meant nothing.

“Why now?” Merlin asked instead of forgiving Arthur. “Why not five years ago or ten?”

Arthur hesitated. Merlin wasn’t used to seeing him unsure and it made him uneasy. “I’m not sure. I just looked up at the calendar one day and realized your birthday was coming. And I remembered that stupid night we made that deal. I don’t know. Maybe I wanted that back.”

“You can’t have it back,” Merlin pointed out. “We were different then.”

Arthur nodded. “I was hoping we could move forward instead.”

Merlin didn’t tell Arthur how hurt he’d been, how lonely he’d been afterwards, how none of their friends had understood. He didn’t want to bring it up, not now. A part of him missed Arthur, though. He missed Arthur’s cocky attitude, his charmingly crooked smile, how he always knew just what to say to make Merlin feel worse, and sometimes better.

It had been too long to go back. Those who didn’t learn from history were doomed to repeat it.

“I don’t know,” Merlin said after a minute. He couldn’t imagine being friends with Arthur again, like the past thirteen years hadn’t happened. It might be too much.

“Consider it,” Arthur said, watching Merlin. He reached for his menu after a bit. “Have you tried the steak here? It’s fairly good.”

Merlin didn’t reply, picking up his menu. He wasn’t entirely sure this was a good idea, but he was already considering it.

*

“You didn’t come by the club last night,” Mordred said on the other end of the phone. Merlin tossed his empty red pen in the bin and grabbed another from the drawer filled with pens, scissors, too many rubber bands to count.

“Yeah, I had a bit of a late night,” he said, hoping Mordred wouldn’t ask what kind of late night.

Truthfully, Merlin had been home by ten, but he’d simply felt so exhausted by the evening, he’d gone straight to bed, completely forgetting he had promised to visit Mordred.

He didn’t like the club all that much anyway. The music was too loud and it wasn’t cozy like a pub. More like a flashing-lights, colored drinks, and too much yelling over music. He wished Mordred worked somewhere else, but Mordred liked the club. Mordred liked chatting with all the patrons, doing flips with the bottles, grinning cheekily at anyone likely to leave him a big tip.

It just wasn’t Merlin’s scene.

“You never have late nights with me,” Mordred said, and Merlin could practically hear the pout through the phone. “You’re always in bed before ten, like an old man.”

“You have Saturday off this week, don’t you?” Merlin asked, pulling the stack of essays to him as he sat down on the couch. “We could do something.”

“I was thinking of covering Craig’s shift,” he said and Merlin frowned. It seemed like he didn’t see much of Mordred considering they’d been dating a few months. “Good tips.”

Merlin didn’t know what to say. It wasn’t like he had a ton of free time himself. It’d be nice if he got to see his boyfriend once in a while.

“They’re having a special showing of the BBC Pride and Prejudice movie at a cinema uptown.”

“Boring,” Mordred said as a knock came at Merlin’s door.

“It’s not boring,” he protested. “It’s one of the best adaptations ever made.”

“You just like Colin Firth in a wet shirt,” Mordred said. “Besides, don’t you own it already?”

Merlin crossed his living room to the door, checking out the peephole first to make sure it wasn’t one of his neighbors come to invite him to yet another neighbor party. Merlin had no desire to go to any, and so far, he had avoided them all in the three years since he’d moved in.

“It’s better in a cinema,” he argued, pulling open the door. “Hey, Gwaine.”

Gwaine nodded, holding up a six-pack of beer and inviting himself in. Merlin shut the door behind him.

“Gwaine’s there?” Mordred asked, sounding annoyed. “Ugh.”

“Mordred,” Merlin said, and Gwaine immediately rolled his eyes, cracking open a bottle and taking his place on the couch as if Merlin had invited him there.

“I gotta go,” Mordred said sharply. “Enjoy your evening.”

“Mordred,” Merlin said again, but the call had already ended. He glanced at Gwaine. “You’re not even in the same room and you still can’t get along.”

Gwaine shrugged. “Drink?”

“What are you doing here?” Merlin asked instead, rounding the couch and sitting down. He did take the bottle Gwaine offered him.

“Was out. Knew you’d be in.”

It should have been pathetic that Gwaine would know that, but Merlin didn’t really care. He figured he was old enough that he didn’t need to make excuses for wanting to stay in.

“Why aren’t you still out? No one catch your eye?”

“Nah,” Gwaine said easily. “Plus Percy’s working late at the office.”

“Is he not into desk sex?”

Gwaine smiled. “Usually, he is. But it’s some big report thing he has to do. Figured the faster he gets it done, the faster I can get him across the desk.”

“That’s considerate of you,” Merlin muttered, though he was surprised. Anybody else would have bored Gwaine with a late-night project. He certainly wouldn’t be drinking at Merlin’s on a night like this.

“Besides, I haven’t heard anything about that bloke we’re not supposed to discuss,” Gwaine said, nudging Merlin in the side.

“There’s nothing to discuss,” Merlin said, though he couldn’t help thinking back to the other night with Arthur.

“Merlin,” Gwaine said, inclining his drink towards Merlin. “I’m your best mate, wouldn’t you agree?”

Merlin sighed. “Yes.”

“And as such, I am here to help you. To be your sounding board. To listen to you moan about your problems and then get you sloshed as a solution. So first, let’s hear about the problems.”

Merlin hesitated. Gwaine had never known Arthur, not like Lance and Gwen did. Gwaine didn’t know about Arthur’s good qualities—wouldn’t try to convince him Arthur had some redeeming feature. It would be nice to have someone on his side for a change.

“Fine,” he said at length. “But you have to promise not to tell anyone, especially Gwen or Lance, okay?”

“On my, well, Percy’s, honor,” Gwaine promised, cracking open another beer. “So, spill.”

Merlin sighed, curling up on the couch, the stack of essays long forgotten. “The thing you have to understand about Arthur is that he’s charming. And he’s good-looking, and he’s rich, and he knows it. I met him the first year of University and somehow we became friends, despite the fact that he’s a self-centered prat.”

Gwaine nodded knowingly and replaced Merlin’s bottle.

“I won’t lie,” Merlin said, gazing down at his bottle. “I liked Arthur. A bit more than a friend. And he was bisexual, so it wasn’t as if it was a pipe dream, per se. But we were just friends for those four years. But then…”

Merlin stopped. He’d never actually told anyone what had happened between him and Arthur, why they’d abruptly stopped being friends after finishing school. Gwen had pressed but he’d never let on. It was just too embarrassing to admit.

He’d thought, for that brief night, that all his dreams were coming true. That Arthur really did like him the same way. He’d been hideously wrong.

“What?” Gwaine asked, prompting him as he hesitated.

Merlin took a long swig from his drink. “There was a night and things happened, and I thought, maybe it was real. I mean, we were drunk, but still. It happened. Finally.”

Gwaine sat back, nodding slowly. “Let me guess, he denied the whole thing?”

“Worse. The next day, I saw him snogging Vivian for all the world to see. Like nothing had happened, like I didn’t matter.”

“I’m sure you were better off,” Gwaine said simply. “Sounds like a right git to me.”

It was nice to have someone agree with him for once. Merlin felt like a weight had been lifted off his shoulders. He took a drink.

“It sounds stupid, but I was heartbroken. I stopped talking to him, didn’t explain to anyone why. And now, thirteen years later, he shows up as though we’re still friends somehow. Talking about that stupid pact we made fifteen years ago to get married.” At Gwaine’s raised eyebrows, Merlin sighed. “You know, one of those, ‘if we’re not married in so many years, we’ll marry each other.’”

Gwaine still looked confused. “Not following.”

“You never made one?”

“Who wants to get married?”

Merlin wasn’t surprised Gwaine had never thought about it. “Well, anyway, it’s just an excuse to ring me.”

“But why?” Gwaine asked. “He must know why you stopped being friends?”

“I’m sure he knows,” Merlin said with a scowl. “But that’s how Arthur works. When he wants something, he does whatever he has to to get it.”

“So what does he want?”

“He says he wants to be friends again.”

Gwaine scoffed. “Convenient. Sounds to me like he wants something only you can give him.”

Merlin frowned. “Copy paper and red pens?”

Gwaine laughed, shoving his hair back from his face. “Use your brain, Merlin. He wants you.”

“Me?” Merlin repeated skeptically. “That is ridiculous. He could have had me for thirteen years already, but he fucked that up. He can’t expect that I would ever do that again? After what happened last time?”

“People change.”

“I wish people would stop saying that.” Merlin sighed.

Gwaine sat forward on the couch. “What other reason could he have for suddenly appearing in your life after so long? For apologizing, wanting to be friends?”

“To actually be friends?”

“Do you think he believes that would actually happen?”

Merlin paused. Arthur certainly wasn’t stupid, even if he was annoying. He hated to think that Gwaine was right, though. Merlin couldn’t afford to go through that again.

“If he doesn’t, then why bother at all?”

Gwaine shrugged. “Forgiveness would be a step in that direction. If he wanted you, he’d have to become friends with you again then somehow convince you he was worth the risk.”

“He’s not,” Merlin said firmly. “Besides, I’m with Mordred.”

Gwaine barely contained his eyeroll, much to merlin’s annoyance. “Not to defend Arthur, whom I’ve never met, but he can’t be worse than that club-hopping, pretty-boy, fruity drink-swigging kid.”

“Well, I knew you weren’t going to defend Mordred,” Merlin said, “but you could at least support the fact that I’m dating someone and Arthur can’t just swoop in and expect us to pick up where we didn’t leave off.”

“You’re completely right,” Gwaine said, lining the empty bottles up on the coffee table. “It’s a dick move. But, you know, if you still like him—”

“I don’t,” Merlin interrupted. He sighed, though. “It’s just, we were really good mates for a long time. And sometimes, when I’m with him, I feel like nothing has changed.”

“When you’re with him?” Gwaine asked slyly and Merlin grimaced.

“We had dinner,” he admitted. “Just so he would go away.”

“And did he?”

“I don’t know,” Merlin said. His fingers picked at the label on his bottle. “I don’t know how I feel anymore.”

“It’s ‘cause you still like him.”

“Gwaine,” Merlin warned, tossing the paper label at him. It fluttered to the floor.

“You’re allowed to have feelings,” Gwaine pointed out. “Even for people that hurt you. And you’re allowed to forgive them, if you want to. You’ve been holding onto this for a really long time.”

“Are you sure you’re not a psychological therapist?” Merlin asked. “You don’t usually make this much sense.”

“Last I checked, I was still just a physical therapist.” Gwaine grinned. “But you’d be surprised the problems the boys have off the field.”

“So are you saying I should let it go?” Merlin wasn’t entirely sure what he wanted anymore. He hadn’t been excited to see Arthur, but deep down, a tiny part had hoped maybe it was time to start over.

“Fuck no,” Gwaine said easily. “I’m just saying it’s good to keep your options open. Find out what Arthur really wants. Maybe it is to be friends. Then you could be friends. Unless you can think of a reason it would be bad.”

Merlin couldn’t really think of any other reason Arthur would choose now to show up. It wasn’t as if Merlin had a lot of money or a fancy job or anything Arthur could want. He doubted somehow that Arthur had a weird ulterior motive. It wasn’t really his style.

“What if it happens again?”

Gwaine shrugged. “You’re not twenty anymore. You’re fucking adults. If it happens again, demand to know why then cut that prick out of your life for good. He wouldn’t deserve you anyway.”

Merlin actually smiled. “It’s nice to have you on my side.”

Gwaine frowned but laughed. “I’m always on your side, mate.”

Gwaine cracked open another beer as they sat there, handing it off to Merlin and opening another for himself.

*

Merlin stepped into the darkened cinema, pausing to let his eyes adjust as he watched the ads on the screen. It smelled of popcorn and something uniquely cinematic that Merlin couldn’t describe.

He hadn’t managed to convince Gwaine to come with him, and Mordred had decided to cover someone’s shift at work rather than go. Gwen and Lance had a footie match for Milo to go to, so Merlin had come on his own.

Mordred was right, he admitted as he picked his way down the aisles, looking for the best available seat. Not that the cinema was crowded. Only a few people dotted the seats as Merlin gazed around. Merlin did, in fact, own this very movie, all five glorious hours of it, on DVD. But there was something about seeing it on the big screen, imagining he was living in Jane Austen’s world. He’d come to the conclusion long ago that if he’d been in her world, he would have been a governess, if such a thing were possible back then.

There was a couple in the front row that Merlin avoided. He didn’t need to spend the whole movie listening to their mushy sighs when he had his own.

Turning around, he faced the back of the cinema, and his heart jumped in his chest as he caught sight of a familiar outline. Surprise was outweighed by annoyance as he climbed the stairs.

“What are you doing here?” he asked. He couldn’t believe this was what his life had become. Was he destined to be stalked by Arthur forever?

Arthur, to his credit, looked surprised. “I could ask you the same thing.”

“You don’t like Jane Austen,” Merlin accused Arthur. “You never did.”

“I never read her,” Arthur admitted. “I didn’t have to. You told me everything about all of her novels.”

Merlin frowned but couldn’t deny it. “So you’re actually here to sit through five hours of Jennifer Ehle and Colin Firth?”

“Colin Firth is in this?” Arthur asked eagerly. “Now I definitely want to see it.”

Merlin didn’t know whether to be suspicious or just accept it. Instead, he did nothing, standing at the end of the row, popcorn clutched in one hand, his mobile in the other.

After a minute, Arthur nodded at him. “Are you just going to stand there or find a seat?”

Merlin hesitated. It wasn’t exactly an invitation. He could chose somewhere else to sit, somewhere far away from Arthur. He wondered if Arthur would care.

In the end, though, he sat down next to Arthur and tried to ignore the pitter-pat of his heart against his rib cage. Fifteen years ago, he would have given anything for this.

“I hear this is the best adaptation,” Arthur said as they sat there, waiting for the film to begin.

“It’s the most true to the book,” Merlin agreed. “But if you’re talking about best, I think the general consensus is that the 2005 version is the one that will make you believe in love again.”

Arthur glanced at him and Merlin shoved a handful of popcorn in his mouth to stop himself from saying anything else to get him in trouble.

“What’s that one like?” Arthur asked, gazing at Merlin.

“It’s like happiness and sunshine and that stupid way people look at each other when they’re in love. And it just… wrenches your heart out then somehow puts it back together.” So much for not saying anything stupid. He cleared his throat, fiddling with the arm rest.

“Maybe I should watch that one.”

“You should,” Merlin said abruptly, eternally grateful when the ads on the screen stopped and the movie began.

Five hours never seemed that long when Merlin watched this movie. Even Arthur didn’t fidget much or ask many questions as it played.

“Holy…” Arthur said as Colin Firth pulled himself out of the lake on screen, clothes dripping, white shirt stuck to his stomach. “Why did you never tell me about this scene in Uni? I would have been all over that.”

Merlin smiled but didn’t reply. He was actually enjoying this, sitting with Arthur, watching the movie, sharing the moment. Mordred would have been bored to tears by now, offering to blow Merlin instead.

By the time the film finished, it was dark outside. Merlin and Arthur stepped onto the sidewalk in front of the cinema and Merlin paused. It wasn’t as though he’d planned to spend the afternoon with Arthur.

“I was going to get a coffee,” Arthur said as they stood there. “If you don’t have plans.”

Merlin didn’t have plans except maybe to stop by and see Mordred, but he somehow doubted Mordred would care whether he did or not.

“Maybe just one,” Merlin agreed at length, pretending his didn’t see the way Arthur smiled.

They ended up at a cafe around the corner, one Merlin had never been to. It was too late for coffee, but Merlin got one anyway and joined Arthur at a table by the window.

“Are all Jane Austen adaptations as good?” Arthur asked as he sipped his coffee.

“Some,” Merlin allowed. “There have been plenty. Some of the newest ones have been really innovative. I show them to my students sometimes—Emma Approved, the Lizzie Bennett Diaries.”

Arthur nodded. “I’m going to pretend I know what that means.”

“They’re modern adaptations.”

“So less pining, more texting?”

Merlin smiled. “Something like that. You’ve seen Clueless, haven’t you? That was an adaptation of Emma.”

“Morgana used to watch that all the time,” Arthur said. “Couldn’t go a day without seeing Paul Rudd’s face.”

“Funny, that’s the same reason I watched it,” Merlin said as Arthur laughed.

“And you’re a hopeless romantic,” Arthur pointed out, and Merlin shrugged.

It was strange, sitting here with Arthur, smiling, talking. For a moment, Merlin almost forgot about the past few years. Maybe they could just move on. Maybe it had been that easy all along and Merlin had been winding himself up over nothing.

Or maybe it was simply easier to go back than to go forward.

“So where’s your boyfriend?” Arthur asked after a minute. “He didn’t want to come to the movies?”

“He’s working,” Merlin said as the weight in his chest settled in again. “And it’s not his thing anyway.”

“What is his thing?”

Merlin paused. “Well, he likes bartending, clubbing. He went to school for business, but he says he’s not interested in going corporate.”

Arthur nodded slowly, though Merlin wasn’t sure what that meant.

“How’d you two meet?” he asked instead, watching Merlin.

“Gwaine,” Merlin said with a shrug, though Arthur frowned. “He made me come along to the club one night, probably to pick up blokes or maybe just because he was bored.”

“Who’s Gwaine?”

“Oh, he’s my best mate,” Merlin said, sipping his coffee. “Anyway, Mordred was there, and I don’t know. He liked me for some reason. It’s kind of ironic since Gwaine hates Mordred so much and he’s the reason we met each other.”

“Why does he hate him?”

Merlin shook his head. “I don’t know. He thinks he’s too young and that we have nothing in common and that Mordred is rude. Not that Gwaine has any room to talk about any of those things. He sleeps with people he doesn’t even know their age or what they do.”

Merlin didn’t know why he was telling Arthur all of this. It was too much like before, like they had just fallen back into old patterns.

He was just about to suggest he go home, make up some excuse about grading essays or something, but before he could slide his chair back, a woman descended on their table.

“Sorry I’m late,” she said, swooping to kiss Arthur’s cheek. “Though it looks like you’ve found someone to—Oh my god, Merlin?!”

Merlin could only stare at Morgana, still as beautiful as ever with thick brown hair falling over her shoulders, her skin as pale as it had ever been, green eyes falling on him.

“Morgana,” he got out before she pulled him into a brief hug.

“I can’t believe this,” she said with a significant look at Arthur, which he appeared to ignore. “It’s been so long. You have only gotten more handsome.”

“You haven’t changed at all,” Merlin heard himself saying.

“You’re sweet,” she said, taking the third chair at the table. “Good genes, I guess.”

“And botox,” Arthur muttered, grimacing a moment later. Merlin suspected Morgana kicked him under the table.

“I’m surprised to see you,” she said, glancing at Arthur. “Here, together. When did that happen?”

Merlin got the feeling Arthur hadn’t told Morgana about his stalking activities as of late.

“Just recently,” Arthur said, not elaborating. Morgana raised an eyebrow at his answer.

“How’s Leon?” Merlin jumped in before she could push for more details. He didn’t want his whole life aired for everyone to know.

“I have no idea,” she replied, waving a hand with a wedding ring on it. “We broke up years ago. Arthur, you still see him, don’t you?”

“Yeah,” Arthur said shortly.

“So then…” Merlin said, nodding at her hand.

“Oh, this?” She held up the ring. “I got married a few years ago to a—”

“Freeloader?” Arthur offered and Morgana ignored him.

“He’s a photographer,” she finished. “And someone thinks because he isn’t published in national magazines that it doesn’t count.”

“He photographs weddings,” Arthur said, and Morgana rolled her eyes.

“Yes, and no one ever made any money doing that.” She turned to Merlin. “You should meet Cenred. I think you would like him. You’re both creative types, unlike my brother.”

Merlin smiled at Arthur’s disgruntled expression. “It does take a certain creativity to take over a city.”

“And that’s why I’m in charge now,” Morgana said easily. “Though, Arthur is not to be discredited. After Uther died, he made a lot of good changes. Obviously, the best was leaving.”

“Morgana,” Arthur said, but she interrupted him.

“It’s the first good thing you did for the company,” she said, patting his hand. “I get to be proud of you.” She turned to Merlin. “He created a non-profit division that helps people displaced by big real estate find affordable housing in the city. The company even bought a couple buildings, didn’t you? Rent-stable and all that.”

“That’s quite a turn-around,” Merlin said, watching Arthur, who merely shrugged.

“It was the least I could do.”

“I’m not sure I like this new modesty thing,” Morgana commented. “It doesn’t really suit you, Arthur.”

Arthur had always talked about getting out from under his father’s shadow, though Merlin had never thought he would. Despite all his talk, he’d still gone into the family business after school, still contributed to the Pendragon legacy. But now, things had changed, and so, it seemed, had Arthur.

Morgana focused on Merlin next, smiling at him in the way that had always made him nervous before.

“Are you married, then?” she asked. “Any kids?”

“I have about a hundred kids,” Merlin said, and Morgana didn’t react. “Students. No kids that are actually mine.”

“So you’re not married,” she said simply.

“No,” Merlin admitted. “Not married. Not yet.”

“Don’t worry,” she said. “You will find the right person. Arthur, on the other hand, is so picky, I’m surprised he hasn’t dried up from lack of sex.”

“Excuse me,” Arthur said but was promptly ignored.

“The last guy he dated lasted all of two weeks,” she went on. “Though I can’t say I blame Arthur for that one. He was a complete bore.”

“Morgana,” Arthur interjected, but she merely patted his hand reassuringly.

“There’s someone out there for you too. Though it might help if you actually gave someone a chance.”

Merlin actually smiled at Arthur’s annoyed expression. He’d forgotten how Morgana could be, how they could be together.

“Come on, Merlin,” she said next. “It’s been over a decade. Tell me everything.”

Merlin glanced at Arthur, who merely shrugged, a smile tugging at his lips. So much for getting out of there, though Merlin found as they continued talking, that he really didn’t mind after all.

*

Merlin wasn’t sure how he’d been talked into this, how he’d let Mordred convince him it was a good idea, though he suspected it had something to do with the guilty feeling he’d had when Mordred demanded where Merlin had been all of Friday night.

Either way, Merlin let Mordred pull him through the crowd of drunken revelers, brightly coloured lights flashing overhead, music throbbing against his eardrums so he could barely hear what Mordred shouted over it.

“What?” he asked, straining to hear as Mordred’s mouth moved again.

“Drink!” Mordred shouted back, miming with his hand. Before Merlin could shout anything back, Mordred had disappeared into the crowd.

Merlin wasn’t sure if it was a party or a rave or something in between, but he felt woefully out of place as he tried to weave through the throb of bodies. Mordred had only said that he wanted to go out, not be a boring couple who sat at home on Sunday nights watching Jeopardy. Merlin hadn’t even bothered to correct him that Jeopardy didn’t play on the weekends.

Merlin didn’t see what was wrong with staying home and watching TV. It was better than being stuck in a sweaty mob at midnight, but Mordred had a point, Merlin tried to convince himself. He hadn’t told Mordred about Friday with Arthur and Morgana, hadn’t explained why he hadn’t come by the club to visit him. It was that guilt that kept him at this party, looking around hopelessly to see where Mordred had gone.

It seemed an eternity before Mordred returned, two drinks in hand.

“Bartender’s a friend of mine,” Mordred shouted in Merlin’s ear. “He made ‘em extra strong for me.”

Merlin actually winced at the burn of alcohol as he took a drink. He hadn’t had anything this strong since Uni when they’d thrown all the alcohol they had in one punch bowl. Arthur had insisted it would be great. Instead, it had left all of them with wicked hangovers.

“And look what else I got for you,” Mordred said, pulling something out of his pocket. In the palm of his hand sat a small white pill.

Merlin frowned. “What’s that?”

“It’ll help loosen you up,” Mordred said simply. “Trust me, you could use it.”

Merlin wasn’t sure what he meant by that. He wasn’t the type to take pills that he didn’t know what they were.

“Why do you say that?” he asked instead, watching the way Mordred shrugged, leisurely, as though he offered drugs to everyone he dated.

“You’re so uptight sometimes,” he said, bouncing along to the music and tossing back his drink in one swig. “Just ‘cause you’re old doesn’t mean you can’t have fun! Books and TV aren’t fun. This is fun!”

Merlin looked around at the crowd of people, most ten years his junior, dressed in neon, streaks of paint across their faces. The music wasn’t even anything he recognized.

“Besides, you owe me!” Mordred said, moving closer so Merlin could actually hear him. “You’ve been blowing off dates ‘cause you want to sleep. Well, I want to do things other than sleep.”

Merlin didn’t say that he enjoyed sleeping. In fact, it was one of his favorite things to do. Even when he’d been Mordred’s age, he hadn’t wanted to go out partying every night. He had never been that kind of person. His idea of a good time was watching a film or hanging out with a few friends in a pub then going home to read. It wasn’t standing on a dance floor surrounded by club kids where he could barely hear himself think.

Mordred held out the pill, expression expectant. “Come on, Merlin. Live a little. Let go.”

Everything Merlin had ever learned about drugs told him not to do it, but something took over, a jerky movement that was his fingers plucking the pill from Mordred’s hand and shoving it in his mouth. He took a big gulp of his drink and coughed at the taste a second later.

“There you go,” Mordred said, smiling at Merlin. “That wasn’t so bad, was it?”

“I think we could tone down the drink next time,” Merlin said, massaging his throat where he could still feel the burn.

“We’ll just build up your tolerance,” Mordred said instead, grabbing Merlin’s hand. “Let’s dance.”

Merlin let Mordred pull him through the crowd, though he could swear he felt the drug tingling inside him already. He only hoped he hadn’t just done something stupid.

*

Merlin had lost track of Mordred. In fact, he’d lost track of everything. The coloured lights blurred together and the floor seemed to sway with every step he took. He bumped into someone as he tried to move towards what he thought was the bar, though it seemed to be changing locations every time he looked.

Merlin had a drink in his hand, but he wasn’t sure how long it had been there or if he’d drunk any of it. It felt almost as if it wasn’t his hand, like it wasn’t quite attached to his body as he stared at it.

Blinking, he tried to focus but everything seemed blurred, confusing, topsy-turvy. The bar pitched as Merlin saw it again and he bumped into someone else.

The plastic cup in his hand fell, tumbling in what seemed like slow-motion to Merlin, hitting the floor and spilling everywhere.

“Hey, are you—Merlin?”

His name floated through his ears like a song and Merlin turned to the person he’d run into, squinting against the lights.

“Gwaine?”

Gwaine’s hands grabbed Merlin’s shoulders as he stumbled. The floor was swaying again. Behind Gwaine, the lights seemed to frame his head, like a strange reddish-blue halo.

“What the hell are you doing here?” Gwaine asked, eyes darting down Merlin.

Merlin blinked, unable to quite focus on his face. “What are the hell you doing here?” he repeated, the words jumbling up in his head.

Gwaine frowned, and then his hand was on Merlin’s face, tilting his chin up, to the side, staring into his eyes as though looking for something. Merlin tried to pull his chin away but a tiny pain jolted through his temples at the movement.

The lights were hurting his eyes, too bright, too many colours.

“What are you on?” Gwaine asked instead of answering Merlin’s question, which Merlin found to be very rude.

He pulled away from Gwaine, but the floor felt as though it was falling out from under him and he collapsed into the puddle of his sticky drink.

“M’fine,” he said even as Gwaine hauled him back up, a tight grip on his arm this time.

“Like hell you are,” Gwaine muttered, already guiding Merlin towards what Merlin suspected was a door. The outline kept jumping around in his vision, from rectangle to square and back again.

“M’relaxed,” Merlin said as Gwaine pulled him through the door and out into a cool, clear air outside.

“Are you here alone?” Gwaine asked, forcing Merlin away from the thud of the music, the compression of the dance floor, the smell of sweat and alcohol. Merlin stumbled over nothing on the sidewalk, having trouble keeping his balance.

“No,” Merlin replied. “Mordred’s here. There. I need to find him.”

Gwaine didn’t let go of Merlin’s arm as Merlin tried to pull away. His arm felt like jello, like he might be able to just slide out of Gwaine’s grip if he tried hard enough, like a silk tie slipping from his fingers. Arthur had silk ties. Merlin had seen him wear one the other day. It had been red, blood red, a power colour.

By the time Merlin’s thoughts came back from Arthur, Gwaine had gotten him to the curb and was flagging down a cab.

“Unfortunately, I don’t have time to find your dipshit boyfriend and kick his ass right now,” Gwaine said as a cab pulled up.

“Where’re we going?” Merlin asked as Gwaine shoved him inside. He fell on the seat, crawling over and resting his head against the cool window pane.

He didn’t hear what Gwaine said as the taxi started moving. He had to close his eyes as the lights of the city swept past, a churning to match his stomach. He was fairly sure Gwaine was talking, but he couldn’t be positive between the rumble of the road, garbled mumblings from the radio, and the rushing in Merlin’s ears that he couldn’t quite explain.

Mordred would wonder where he’d gone. He’d wander around the dance floor and when he couldn’t find Merlin, he’d think he went home to read or watch TV or sleep. Sleep. Sleep would be heaven, Merlin thought, wincing as the car hit a hole and jolted.

Lost in thought of his warm, soft bed, Merlin didn’t notice the car stopping. He didn’t notice until Gwaine pulled open the door and he nearly fell out. Gwaine caught him, though, dragging him upright.

“Alright,” Gwaine said, a supportive arm around Merlin’s waist. “Let’s get you sobered up.”

Merlin made a noise of protest, but he was in no position to leave as it seemed his legs didn’t want to work anymore, and he let Gwaine drag him into a building and up a few flights of stairs.

“This is your flat,” Merlin said once Gwaine got the door open and dumped him on the sofa.

“Good work, detective,” Gwaine replied, leaving Merlin there and going to the kitchen.

Merlin slumped on the couch, pressing his fingers over his eyes. The bright light coming from the (admittedly dim) lamp in the corner burned his corneas. He felt as though he was at sea, on a boat, rocking back and forth with the waves even as he sat on the sofa.

A door opened somewhere behind him but Merlin couldn’t open his eyes, focusing on stopping the rocking. He wasn’t sure he could.

“What’s going on?” Percy’s hushed voice reached his ears. Gwaine’s only reply was a sigh and then he was back in front of Merlin, sitting on the coffee table.

“Drink this,” he said, pulling Merlin’s hand from his eyes.

Merlin winced at the light flooding his vision. “The room’s spinning,” he said instead.

Gwaine pushed a glass of water into Merlin’s hand. “I bet it is.”

He left Merlin there. Merlin followed his wavy movements, the outline of his body followed by streaks of light. Percy stood by the bedroom door, wearing only a pair of boxers, arms crossed over his chest.

“He’s pretty fucked up,” Gwaine said. “He took something, who knows what. Good thing I found him.”

“I can hear you,” Merlin said indignantly, shoving his head into a pillow as a wave of nausea came over him. Something pinched his temples and he grimaced.

“Well, if you can hear me, then listen to this,” Gwaine said, coming closer. Hands grabbed Merlin’s shoulders and pulled him out of the cushion. “You don’t do drugs with people who aren’t your friends, Merlin.”

“Mordred’s m’boyfriend,” Merlin slurred, frowning as Gwaine shoved the glass of water back in his hand.

“Where is he now?” Gwaine demanded. “Drink.” He forced Merlin to take a sip. Merlin made a face. He didn’t need to be babied. Especially not by Gwaine. “He’s not here.”

“Gwaine,” Percy said and Gwaine looked up sharply.

“Who knows what would have happened if I hadn’t been there,” Gwaine said, sounding angry. Merlin sucked in a breath. He felt suffocated in here, the air too warm, the water not cold enough.

“I can take care of myself,” Merlin said, pushing himself off the sofa. For a moment, he didn’t move, legs not quite able to support his weight. The whole room pitched and Merlin fell forward, barely stopping himself from hitting the table. “I’mnadult.”

“You’re not acting like it,” Gwaine said, pulling Merlin back onto the couch. Merlin went easily, sinking into the cushions. His head felt like it was swimming, his brain doing a backstroke through its own fluids.

“You’re one to talk,” Merlin slurred, waving a vague hand towards Percy. “Does he live here now?”

Merlin didn’t see the glance Gwaine and Percy shared, climbing onto the couch and closing his eyes. He felt his body sinking, his mind closing down.

“Drink your water,” Gwaine said as Merlin lay there.

Everything slowed down, his breathing, the sounds outside, the lights dimming around him as Merlin snuggled into the couch.

“He’ll be okay,” Merlin heard Percy say, voice quiet, far away.

“Let’s just go to bed,” Gwaine replied, and that was the last thing Merlin heard as everything dimmed and he fell asleep.

*

Light streamed in the windows and Merlin groaned into the cushion. His mouth felt like it was stuffed full of cotton balls, dry and muffled. His eyes fell on a glass of water sitting on the coffee table and he reached for it gratefully. He didn’t attempt to sit up yet, worried about the tiny pain screwing into his temples.

“You’re awake.”

Merlin blinked at Percy’s voice. Percy. Right, he was at Gwaine’s flat.

Merlin groaned again. “Not sure about that.”

Percy appeared around the couch, sitting on the coffee table and setting down a steaming mug. “Here, have some tea.”

Merlin was pretty he died last night, if the growing headache was any indication. Everything felt muffled except the pain in his head. He didn’t reach for the tea, hoping he would wake up again in a minute and this would all be a bad dream.

He didn’t, though, and he sighed. Percy smiled slightly, almost reassuringly, as though he knew what Merlin was feeling.

“Where’s Gwaine?” Merlin asked finally, taking a deep breath to combat the sick feeling churning in his stomach.

“He went to work,” Percy said and Merlin’s eyes widened and he sat up, too abruptly, and he winced as everything rushed through his body. He had to stop, sitting on the sofa, clutching the cushions, forcing himself to keep breathing as everything hit him at once, a throbbing pain in his temples, his churning stomach, a lump in his throat he couldn’t get rid of.

“What time is it?” he demanded when he felt like maybe he could breathe again.

“Almost ten.”

A new emotion, panic, flooded Merlin and he attempted to stand up, but Percy was there, forcing him down.

“It’s okay,” Percy assured him. “Gwaine called the school. There’s probably a poor substitute cowering before your students as we speak.”

It didn’t make him feel much better, but Merlin let his shoulders fall. At length, he reached for the tea and clutched it in his hands instead of drinking.

He didn’t remember much of last night. He remembered the club, Mordred, drinking something, a pill…

He remembered Gwaine, Gwaine upset. Gwaine didn’t normally get upset, not with Merlin. Shit, what had he done last night?

Turning to Percy, he frowned. “Did I make a complete arse out of myself last night?”

Merlin hadn’t really spent much time with Percy alone since he and Gwaine had started this… whatever it was. He didn’t really know Percy very well aside from the fact that Percy worked in an office somewhere, but he supposed maybe he should make more of an effort to get to know Percy if Gwaine was actually serious about this.

Gwaine had never been serious about any guy before, which was probably why Merlin had dismissed Percy. But here Percy was, making him tea and giving him a sympathetic look.

“You didn’t do anything we all haven’t done. It’s just, most of us did it when we were twenty.”

Merlin sighed. “Gwaine was pretty angry.”

“I think he was just surprised is all,” Percy said with a shrug. Percy was too nice, Merlin decided. “Not everyday you find your mate strung out at a party.”

“Yeah,” Merlin muttered, taking a sip of the tea finally. His stomach had calmed slightly and he didn’t feel like he was going to be immediately sick anymore. He glanced at Percy. “Do you need to get going? I can—”

“It's fine,” Percy said. “Don't worry about it.”

Merlin nodded slowly, sipping his tea. His mind wandered to Mordred. He was probably wondering what had happened. He might have been worried. Digging his phone out of his pocket, Merlin checked, but there were no texts. No voicemails. Nothing. His stomach sank as he shoved it back.

He glanced at Percy, who still sat on the coffee table, not seeming bothered by the silence.

“Can I ask you something?” he said, the words escaping before his brain completely wrapped around them.

“Sure.”

Merlin hesitated. “It doesn’t bother you that you and Gwaine have an open relationship? That he sleeps with other people?”

“No,” Percy said simply. “I don’t care what Gwaine does when he’s not here. As long as he comes back.”

Merlin frowned, turning the mug around in his fingers. “What if he doesn’t? I mean, what if some day he finds someone else? You don’t worry about that?”

Percy smiled. “I trust Gwaine. And if he did find someone else, it’d be pretty selfish of me not to let him go.”

“What do you mean?”

Percy leaned back on his hands. “I believe there’s somebody out there for everyone. Like a soul mate, you know? If Gwaine and I aren’t, and he finds it with someone else, I wouldn’t stand in the way.”

“So you don’t think you and Gwaine are?”

Percy shrugged. “I don’t know. I like him. He likes me. I could see it lasting, but I’m just one half. You both have to be on the same page for it to work.”

“Why do you like Gwaine?” Merlin asked and Percy laughed.

“You’re his best mate.”

“I know,” Merlin said dismissively. “But I don’t like him the way you do.”

Percy paused. “We have a lot in common. And what we don’t have in common is what makes it interesting.”

Merlin didn’t reply. His tea was only lukewarm now and his head still felt like it was going to split in half. He and Mordred didn’t have much in common if he was honest with himself.

“You want some breakfast?” Percy asked after a minute, getting up and heading to the kitchen. “I made eggs.”

“Oh God, no,” Merlin replied as his stomach lurched again. Percy only laughed behind him.

*

“Well, you missed an exciting day yesterday,” Mithian said as Merlin stood at the copier. Merlin would have said he hadn’t considering his day.

“Did I?” he asked instead, grabbing the stapler and taking his papers over to the table. Why they didn’t have a copy machine that stapled was beyond him.

Mithian took the seat across from him as Elena entered the staff room and headed for the coffee.

“The Head discovered two boys making use of the janitor’s closet in an ‘inappropriate manner,’ he said.”

Merlin snorted. “I don’t know why they don’t just do it in the park like everyone else does.”

“Don’t you want to know who it was?” Mithian asked.

“Have they been suspended?”

“No.” She leaned forward. “Though you might be interested anyway.”

Merlin supposed he would find out at some point. Gossip traveled around this school like a plague. He might as well have a heads up. He was sure the students were planning to mock and bully these students something terrible. It took him right back to his school days.

“Alright,” he said as he stapled. “Who was it?”

“Noah Porter and Spencer Cavanaugh.”

“Cavanaugh?” Merlin looked up. He wouldn’t have expected that. Cavanaugh was that boy that had all the girls hanging on him, and admittedly, some of the boys. Merlin would never have guessed.

Mithian nodded. “He’s probably not having a great time of it since the whole school knows what happened. You may want to keep an eye out in class.”

“I think they’re cute together,” Elena said as she sat down. “The popular boy and the school journalist. It’s like a romance novel.”

“Or a teen horror film depending on how things go,” Mithian muttered.

“Well, maybe you can help him,” Elena said to Merlin. “After all, you went through this, didn’t you?”

Not this exact situation, Merlin admitted. He’d never been caught with anyone in a broom cupboard, but people had seemed to know anyway. Like, he’d given off a vibe or something that everyone could tell he was different.

“I’ll do what I can,” Merlin said, though he wasn’t sure what that was.

Shuffling his papers together, his phone pinged with a text. Maybe it was Mordred, he thought excitedly, pulling it out. He hadn’t heard from him all day yesterday. No texts at all to check if he was okay, to see where he was. Merlin hadn’t texted Mordred, hadn’t wanted to. Instead, he’d waited and nothing had come. Maybe now.

It wasn’t Mordred’s name on the screen, though, as Merlin pulled the phone out. Was Morded ever going to call? Merlin could be dead for all he knew.

Instead, the text was from Arthur. At least Merlin’s heart didn’t sink this time at the message.

I borrowed a DVD of Pride and Prejudice 2005 from a girl at work. Watch it with me?

Merlin frowned at the message for a moment, not in annoyance at Arthur but more in annoyance at himself. Mordred would never want to simply watch a movie. Too boring, he would say. Shaking Mordred out of his head, Merlin typed in a response and headed for his classroom.

Sure

The students were all there, talking loudly except for two. Noah Porter, a short kid with messy auburn hair, sat in the back corner, staring at his notebook, a twist to his mouth that Merlin recognized in a second. He’d looked like that plenty of times in school.

Spencer Cavanaugh sat in his usual seat, but he wasn’t being loud or rowdy like he usually was. Instead, he stared straight ahead as Merlin entered and set his things on the desk.

“Morning,” he greeted them.

The chatter died down as students took their seats. Merlin’s gaze slid from Noah to Spencer, who didn’t meet his eyes.

“Sorry I was out yesterday. I’m sure you tortured the substitute mercilessly. However, we need to get back to our authors of the 1900s. Last we left off, we were talking about Oscar Wilde and how his social and political views shaped his writings.”

“Yeah, Cavanaugh. You should have more insight now,” one of the boys leered from the front row. Merlin saw Cavanaugh’s jaw tense, eyes flashing somewhere between anger and shame.

“That’s enough,” Merlin said sharply before either boy could do something they’d regret. “In this classroom, we treat everyone with respect regardless of gender, religion, or sexuality. If you’re not prepared to do that, then I’ll ask you to leave. Are we clear?”

“Sorry, Professor,” Eades said, turning to face the front.

“Moving on,” Merlin continued, watching Cavanaugh slump into his seat and glare at the back of Eades’ head. “Oscar Wilde.”

*

A few years ago, Merlin would never imagined he would be here in Arthur’s flat. It felt cavernous compared to Merlin’s, and he stared at the leather sofa, books piled artfully on the tables, art that probably cost a month of Merlin’s salary hanging on the wall.

“Wow,” he said as he stood in the living room. Arthur appeared with drinks, frowning.

“What?”

“Your flat is huge,” Merlin said. His eyes fell on the window. “Is that a balcony?”

“It’s very small,” Arthur said as though embarrassed. “Just sit down, Merlin.”

“Guess you didn’t do too badly as a mogul,” Merlin said, though he did sit. The leather felt like butter against his skin, soft and supple.

Arthur handed him his drink and shrugged. “Didn’t really have much of a choice there.”

Merlin would have argued, but he was trying to make an effort, so he didn’t. He wasn’t sure what had changed exactly in the past week, but he felt less animosity towards Arthur than before. In fact, things almost felt like they had before, except that they were completely different people now, and there always seemed to be an air of uncertainty in everything they did.

“So this movie,” Arthur said, not-so-subtly changing the subject. “Tell me about it.”

“I’m not going to tell you anything,” Merlin said. “This is one you have to experience.”

“Tease,” Arthur said, but he pressed play anyway.

Usually, Merlin would be totally immersed in the movie, but part of his mind was somewhere else. He’d probably checked his phone a thousand times today, but there had been nothing from Mordred. Maybe Mordred was dead for all he knew. He just didn’t understand why Mordred wouldn’t at least call to see how he was doing. He didn’t remember much of that night, but he remembered Mordred and dancing and too many hands. He remembered Mordred disappearing at some point, but then Gwaine had shown up.

Arthur didn’t speak much during the movie, which surprised Merlin. Arthur had always been one to talk through movies. It had always annoyed him in Uni.

The movie was one Merlin watched whenever he was feeling depressed. He still remembered the first time he’d gone to see it, back in the cinema, the summer after Arthur had broken his heart. He’d dragged Gwen to see it with him, though she hadn’t really protested. He remembered sitting in the cinema, watching the beautiful cinematography, the green and golden lights on the screen, the perfect way Darcy had taken Elizabeth’s hand to help her into the carriage. The drama of the rain, Elizabeth’s speech. The sun coming up over the crest of the hill as Darcy appeared at Longbourne.

It was this movie that had made Merlin think that maybe he could get on without Arthur in his life, that his Mr. Darcy was still out there.

Arthur glanced over at Merlin during the sunrise scene, but he didn’t say anything.

That was what Merlin wanted. He knew, in his heart, that it was fictional, that things like that didn’t happen in real life, but he still wanted it. He wanted someone to change, to grow, to become worthy for him.

When the film ended, Arthur let the credits play. He leaned back with a sigh.

“You were right.”

Merlin looked over finally. “About what?”

“That was a surprisingly perfect film.”

Merlin smiled. “You could have seen it with me twelve years ago if you hadn’t—” He stopped himself.

Arthur tapped his glass in the awkward silence. “I can see why you love it so much,” he said instead. “You’re all about the aesthetic.”

“Oh, please,” Merlin said, gesturing at Arthur’s flat that was filled with things only good for looking at. “How much was that Degas? You don’t even like him.”

“It was a gift,” Arthur said.

“And it’s on your wall because?”

Arthur shrugged. “It looks nice, and the wall was missing something.”

“Aesthetic.”

“Fine, maybe I am,” Arthur admitted. “But you’re just as shallow.”

Merlin frowned. “I am not.”

“You only went to rugby matches to watch the players in their shorts.”

“That doesn’t make me shallow,” Merlin pointed out.

“It doesn’t make you deep either.”

Merlin couldn’t exactly argue. Instead, he pulled out his phone. Still no text. Disappointed, he sighed and set it down.

“Expecting a call?” Arthur asked, grabbing Merlin’s empty glass and taking it to the kitchen.

“It’s nothing.” Merlin wasn’t going to tell Arthur about his problems with Mordred.

Arthur returned, taking his seat and turning to Merlin with an unexpectedly serious expression.

“Listen,” he said slowly and Merlin felt unease creep over him. “I know we’re sort of starting over here, and I’m lucky you’ve come this far with me.”

Merlin hesitated. He didn’t like being uncertain. It threw him off slightly. “What are you doing?” He wasn’t going to do something stupid like kiss him or something, right? Merlin wasn’t sure what he’d do.

Arthur pressed his palms together. “Morgana is throwing a sort of office party thing. Really, it’s just an excuse to drink on the company card. It’s not formal. Lance and Gwen are coming, and you could bring someone. That boyfriend of yours.”

“You want me to come to a party,” Merlin repeated slowly.

“If you’re free.”

It was a strange request. And Merlin wasn’t sure why Arthur had been nervous about asking. Except that they didn’t do this, not anymore. A party would be like they were friends again, outside of the two of them. Gwen and Lance would know.

But Arthur was making an effort, Merlin admitted. He was trying to be better. Merlin could try too.

“Okay,” he said finally. “Sure. I could do that.”

“Great.” Arthur smiled easily, like he hadn’t just made that awkward. “I’ll text you the details later.”

Merlin nodded. Now he just had to find out what happened to Mordred and if he’d even want to come to something like this. Something told him he ought not to hold his breath.

*

Three days. Three days and no text or call from Mordred. Maybe he was dead, Merlin found himself thinking as he headed to the club. He couldn’t think of any other explanation that Mordred wouldn’t at least send a text or dirty emoji in the past three days.

The club was busy as usual but the bouncer knew Merlin by now and let him in with only so much as a nod.

Merlin spotted Mordred right away, standing behind the bar, grinning at a pair of guys he was serving. He didn’t look dead.

Bracing himself, Merlin stepped forward. He had to do this, to talk to Mordred, find out exactly what happened on Sunday night.

“Merlin!” Mordred greeted him enthusiastically as he approached. “I thought maybe we’d lost you after that party.”

Merlin stared and the guys down the bar laughed too as if they were in on the joke with Mordred.

“What?” he asked, confused.

“You don’t remember?” Mordred asked, smiling slightly. “You were all over them at the party. But you left before we could—”

“Could what?” Merlin interrupted. He didn’t like the look of those guys, especially when they smiled and his stomach turned over.

“Nothing,” Mordred said, waving it away and moving away from the guys to kiss Merlin across the bar. “So what are you doing here?”

Merlin couldn’t believe Mordred was acting like nothing was wrong. “I haven’t heard from you in days,” he said, and Mordred shrugged, unconcerned.

“You didn’t text me either,” he pointed out.

“I didn’t abandon me at a party after you gave me drugs,” Merlin replied, shooting him a look.

“It was nothing serious,” Mordred said easily. “You did relax after that. You were fun.”

Merlin didn’t know what to say. “I don’t do that, Mordred.”

“You did on Sunday.” He laughed, tilting his head to the side. “Come on, Merlin. It was a party. You’re supposed to do that at parties. God, you’re so uptight sometimes.”

“Why do you keep saying that?” Merlin asked and Mordred actually rolled his eyes.

“Because you are. But don’t worry, I like it sometimes. I get unravel you.”

It wasn’t exactly a compliment. Mordred sighed, reaching for his hand and widening his big blue eyes, pouting his lips slightly.

“Hey, it’s not a big deal. Next party, we’ll do it your way.”

Merlin paused. “I’m glad you said that.” Something still felt a little off, and Merlin wasn’t sure Mordred had actually apologized for anything. “Because I was invited to a party on Saturday and I want you to come with me.”

“Saturday?” Mordred asked with a grimace. “I have to work.”

“Just take it off,” Merlin said. “Make that guy you covered for do it.”

Mordred smiled. “I guess I could. Just one Saturday, though.”

“Just one,” Merlin agreed, though he didn’t smile when Mordred did. For some reason, the idea of going with Mordred to the party wasn’t as exciting as it should be. The fact that he finally got Mordred to take a Saturday off for him should have made him feel better, but he didn’t quite as Mordred went back to the two guys at the end of the bar and laughed at something they said.

*

“You’re not doing a very good job of avoiding me.”

Merlin looked up from his latest piles of essays to see Gwaine sliding onto the stool across the table from him. Merlin’s coffee had long gone cold and his scone sat uneaten on its plate.

“Maybe that’s because I’m not avoiding you,” Merlin replied, looking up for the first time in half an hour. He’d been too engrossed in the terrible grammar mistakes of sixteen year olds to notice the comings and goings in the cafe.

Gwaine shook his hair back, seemingly unimpressed with Merlin’s answer. “So you haven’t called me back because…”

“I’ve been busy.” Merlin gestured at the pile of papers. In truth, he just hadn’t wanted to hear what Gwaine was inevitably going to say about the other night. He didn’t need to hear it.

“Sure,” Gwaine said doubtfully. “It’s not because you know I’m going to tell you—”

“I know what you’re going to say,” Merlin interrupted. “And I don’t want to hear it.”

Gwaine paused, pursing his lips and glancing around the cafe. “Anyone who would give you something like that then not stick around to watch out for you is not your friend, Merlin. Especially not your boyfriend.”

“Are you deaf?” Merlin asked. “I said I don’t want to hear it.”

“Well, I’m going to say it anyway,” Gwaine went on baldly. “I know you don’t care what I think about Mordred, but he doesn’t deserve you. After that, I can’t believe you even still want to be with him.”

“It’s not like there’s anyone else,” Merlin snapped before he could stop himself. Grimacing, he looked away from Gwaine’s questioning gaze.

“What do you mean?”

“Nothing,” Merlin said, grabbing the pile of essays and shoving them into his bag. “Look, I have to get these marked.”

“Wait a minute,” Gwaine said, grabbing Merlin’s arm and forcing him back onto the stool. “Are you saying you’re only with Mordred because you don’t think you can do better?”

“No,” Merlin said quickly. “I like Mordred. He’s—”

“Untrustworthy?” Gwaine interrupted. “A douchebag? Unappreciative?”

Merlin glared. “He doesn’t judge me.”

“I’m not judging you!” Gwaine said indignantly. “I’m judging him! And don’t tell me he doesn’t. I’ve heard him call you old.”

“It’s a joke.”

“Yeah, because he’s a twenty year old wanker.”

Merlin shook his head. He didn’t have time to sit around and be berated by Gwaine for his choices in men. God knew Gwaine had dated his share of wankers.

“He’s twenty-five,” he said instead, as acidicly as he could. Like that made a difference.

“Oh, sorry, did I insult him?” Gwaine asked, sarcasm dripping off his words. “Merlin, you’ve got to get a grip. You can do so much better. You don’t need him.”

“What do you know about what I need?” Merlin shot back. “Maybe I just want to be with someone. One person. Not twenty like you. I don’t want be old and alone. I don’t want to sleep around forever.”

“So you’re settling?” Gwaine asked as Merlin swept his bag off the floor.

“I have to go,” Merlin said sharply.

“Mordred’s an ass,” Gwaine said as Merlin reached the door. People were staring by now, but Merlin ignored them as he wrenched the door open.

“Well, so are you!” he said as he left. He heard the door tinkle, a noise that wasn’t angry enough for how he felt as he stormed away, leaving Gwaine and his so-called advice behind.

*

Merlin didn’t call Gwaine, and Gwaine didn’t call him.

As far as Merlin was concerned, last weekend was behind him. He and Mordred were going to go to this party with Gwen and Lance and they wouldn’t talk about the last party they’d been to.

“What kind of party is this?” Mordred asked when Merlin pulled him into his bedroom to switch out the mesh top he was wearing.

“Not the kind you wear mesh to,” Merlin said, digging in his closet.

“So a stuffy party?” Mordred asked, crossing his arms and looking put-out. “I should have started drinking before I came.”

Merlin pulled out a black sweater and tossed it at Mordred. “Just be nice tonight, okay?”

“I am always nice,” Mordred assured him. “I will charm whoever these people are.”

“Arthur’s…” Merlin hesitated. “He’s an old friend. You met him before, at the club.”

Mordred paused pulling the sweater over his head. “The hot guy who you hated?”

“That’s the one.” Merlin went back into the living room, grabbing his wallet. Mordred followed curiously.

“So you don’t hate him anymore?”

“We’re working through it,” Merlin said slowly. “Besides, Gwen and Lance are friends with him, so.”

Mordred made a face. “Gwen’s going to be there?”

“You don’t like Gwen?” Merlin had never met anyone who didn’t like Gwen. She was like sunshine in a person.

“She’s just so nice,” Mordred said, as though it was a bad thing. “It’s weird.”

“Okay,” Merlin said slowly. He grabbed his jacket. “We should get going.”

“Can we skip out early?” Mordred asked as they left and Merlin locked the door. “You know, get a drink, go back to my place…”

“Maybe,” Merlin said, though it didn’t excite him like it used to. Instead, he took Mordred’s arm and led him to the stairs.

*

Merlin hadn’t been to a party like this in a long time. Parties at the school were usually filled with balloons and ugly crepe paper. Parties Mordred took him to usually had flashing lights and so much alcohol you could drown in it. Of course, there was an open bar here, which Mordred wasted no time in getting them drinks.

“Fancy,” Mordred commented as they stepped into the room. It wasn’t at the office but at some hotel downtown. Arthur had said casual but a lot of people still seemed dressed up to Merlin. He was glad he’d at least thought the wear a button-down shirt. And that he’d made Mordred change.

“Merlin!” Gwen appeared with Lance. She had dressed up, more so than Merlin had anyway, in a blue dress. “I feel like I haven’t seen you in a while.” She hugged him and smiled at Mordred. “Nice to see you too, Mordred.”

Mordred merely nodded, scoping the crowd instead. Merlin elbowed him in the side and Mordred flashed her a brief smile.

“Arthur said he invited you personally,” Lance said as they stood there, surrounded by people Merlin didn’t know.

“Still talking about me, eh?” Merlin asked, but he smiled when Lance frowned. “It’s fine. We’re fine.”

Lance smiled, relieved. “Good.”

“Where’s this Arthur?” Mordred asked, looking bored.

Merlin glanced around, but the room was too crowded to really pick anyone out from a distance. He wasn’t surprised, however, by Morgana’s sudden appearance out of the crowd.

“Merlin!” she said, drawing him into a brief hug. She certainly hadn’t gotten the casual memo either in her floor-length dress. “You came. And this must be the boyfriend.” She turned to Mordred, who seemed taken aback by her. “I’ve heard many things about you.”

“Mordred,” Mordred said, taking her hand carefully as though he might burst into flame by touching her. Merlin didn’t blame him. Morgana gave off that vibe.

“I see you’ve already found the bar,” she said with a nod at their drinks. “Good. Arthur’s around here somewhere, trying to scheme up some money for his non-profit. They don’t just run themselves, you know.”

“What’s the party for?” Merlin asked as Morgana grabbed a glass of champagne off a passing tray.

“It’s the fourth anniversary,” Morgana said, raising her glass. “To the new Pendragon Corporation with me at the head.”

“So you’re celebrating Uther’s death?” Merlin guessed. It seemed a little morbid, even for her.

“Of course not,” she said, though a glint in her eye said different. “Just celebrating a new era. Cheers.”

They all drank, though Merlin wasn’t sure why. He wasn’t going to question her reasoning, though.

“Well, enjoy,” she said simply. “I’ll be around.”

“Wow,” Mordred said as she left them. “She’s…”

“Yeah,” Merlin agreed.

Gwen and Lance glanced at each other.

“I think we’ll go find Arthur,” Gwen said, taking Lance’s hand and steering him away. Merlin knew why they were leaving. They didn’t want to be around Mordred. Even Gwen couldn’t stand him.

“How long do we have to stay?” Mordred asked, sneaking a hand into Merlin’s pocket, and Merlin jerked at his touch.

“We have to at least find Arthur,” he said, though he didn’t really want to leave. All they would do was go back to Mordred’s flat, and Merlin didn’t really feel like it if he was honest.

Mordred rolled his eyes. “Then I need another drink.”

Merlin watched him go, sighing to himself. Mordred didn’t want to be here. Mordred never wanted to do anything Merlin did. Except sex.

Sipping his drink, Merlin scanned the crowd again. No sign of Arthur. He had to be here, though. Merlin wasn’t sure what he’d say when he saw him, how the introduction with Mordred would go. Mordred would probably hit on him. Something in Merlin’s stomach sank at the thought and he turned away, surprised to find a man standing before him.

“Fancy meeting you here,” the man said and Merlin frowned.

“Sorry?”

The man stepped closer. He was dressed up in a suit and tie, like he’d come straight from an office. Merlin was fairly sure they didn’t know each other, though from the way the guy was eyeing him, wasn’t completely sure.

“You still don’t remember me,” the man said, flicking back a lock of brown hair that fell in his eyes.

“Er,” Merlin said, wracking his brain for any memory of this man’s face.

“The club,” he said slowly, stepping closer. “The party?”

He was one of the guys, Merlin realized, the men who Mordred had been flirting with at the club the other day when he’d come in.

“Maybe this’ll remind you,” the man said, and Merlin jumped at the hand squeezing his ass.

“Remind me of what exactly?” Merlin asked, backing away. His heart was beating faster as he tried to force his brain to remember. Hands. He remembered lots of hands.

“Your boyfriend was totally into it,” the bloke said, grinning at Merlin in a way that didn’t reassure him. “You were too.”

“Into what?” Merlin wasn’t sure he wanted to know especially when they guy laughed.

“A foursome—well, we had to make it a threesome when you disappeared. It was still good, though.”

A weight dropped into Merlin’s stomach, heavy and painful. The guy didn’t seem to notice, clapping his shoulder.

“We can try again. I still think it’d be better with four.”

Merlin wasn’t sure if he was going to be sick or if the room was simply closing in around him as he stood there.

“Wh-what?” Merlin heard himself say, barely a word. The bloke didn’t hear, going on about something Merlin wasn’t listening to.

The noises of the party seemed to blend together as Merlin took a step, lurching forward. He had to find Mordred. He had to know this wasn’t true. People’s faces blurred as Merlin reached the bar where Mordred was flirting with the bartender.

“Mordred,” he said, grabbing his arm.

“Hey,” Mordred said, turning to him. “I’m making friends over here for the good stuff.”

“I need to talk to you,” Merlin said, feeling breathless, like all the air in his lungs had left him.

“Merlin,” Mordred said with a little laugh.

“Now,” Merlin said sharply, tugging Mordred away from the bar.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” Mordred asked, looking at Merlin like he was crazy as they stepped into the lobby and Merlin ushered him into a corner away from the door.

“Tell me you didn’t,” Merlin said, staring at Mordred.

Mordred frowned. “Didn’t what? You know, this is your party we’re supposed to be at. If you didn’t want to come, I could be at work making money right now.”

“God damn it, Mordred!” Merlin said, frustration exploding out of him. Even Mordred seemed surprised at the outburst. “You think you can just sleep with other people and I’ll be okay with it?”

Mordred shook his head. “What are you talking about?”

Merlin couldn’t believe he was just going to deny it. “At the party,” he said, trying to keep his voice down as people passed by their corner. “You had a threesome with those guys.”

“Oh,” Mordred said dismissively. “That was nothing. It was a party. It’s what you do.” He put a hand on Merlin’s shoulder. “You just need to relax.”

“I hate when you say that,” Merlin snapped. “And it’s not what I do at parties.”

“Because you don’t go to any,” Mordred pointed out. “Because all you want to do is read and sit in your flat by yourself.”

Merlin wasn’t going to let Mordred turn this around on him. “This isn’t about what I do. You slept with someone else. Two people!”

Mordred scoffed, and that, if anything, made Merlin angrier. How could he just dismiss this? They were dating. People who were dating did not sleep around!

“You were into it too,” Mordred pointed out, and Merlin stared.

“I was high!” He looked around quickly and lowered his voice. “I’m so tired of you saying I’m boring and I don’t do anything. I may not get drunk every night or stay out until the morning, but I’m not twenty anymore. I don’t want to do those things. I never wanted to do those things even when I was twenty. There’s nothing wrong with staying in.”

Mordred glared. “You’re so much better than me, aren’t you, Merlin? Because you’re so wise. If you’re so smart, then explain why you’re still dating me.”

Merlin took a step back as he stared at Mordred. He couldn’t explain it. He hadn’t been able to explain it to Gwaine, and he didn’t want to with Mordred.

“You know what,” he said instead, taking a breath. “We’re not. We’re not dating anymore.”

“So you just get to dump me?” Mordred asked, scoffing. “Just like that.”

“You cheated on me,” Merlin said. “And you make me feel old.”

“News flash,” Mordred said, pulling off Merlin’s sweater and tossing it at him. He still had on the mesh shirt and Merlin shook his head. “You are old. Good luck finding someone as hot as me.”

Mordred stormed away and Merlin didn’t even want to go after him. Instead, he sunk down into a chair, clutching the sweater and rubbing his eyes. What hurt most was knowing that Mordred didn’t even care. He would probably go to his club and hook up with some stranger and Merlin would be forgotten the next day.

He supposed that was what he got for dating someone so much younger than him.

“There you are.”

Merlin’s head snapped up at Arthur came around the corner.

“Arthur, hi,” he said quickly, forcing himself to stand.

Arthur smiled slightly. “Where’s Mordred? Morgana said he was here.”

Merlin sighed, shaking his head. “He left.”

“Oh.” Arthur paused. “Is he coming back?”

Merlin actually laughed at that. “I hope not.”

Arthur didn’t say anything for a minute, and Merlin didn’t know what he could say to change anything. He’d been stupid, naive, idiotic. Gwaine had been right. Gwaine, his best mate whom he’d gotten in a huge fight with.

“You need a drink?” Arthur asked finally, and Merlin nodded.

“A big one, I think.”

“I can do that,” Arthur said with a smile, waiting for Merlin to join him before heading back into the ballroom.

On the way in, Merlin tossed the sweater in the trash. He’d never wear that again.

*

The thing was, Merlin wasn’t upset over breaking up with Mordred. He supposed he should have seen it coming. Gwaine certainly had, though Merlin had been loathe to believe him, and now he was faced with the prospect of admitting to Gwaine that he had been right all along. He wasn’t looking forward to that.

Instead, he started on his third drink of the night and ignored the sympathetic look Gwen gave him over hers.

“I think you’re better off,” she said and Merlin wondered where Arthur had gotten to.

The party didn’t show any signs of winding down around them. Alcohol flowed freely and everyone seemed to be in a good mood. Merlin even felt a little better, though he wasn’t sure if he could attribute that to knowing Mordred had been all wrong for him or to the drink in his hand.

“He didn’t appreciate you, mate,” Lance chimed in when Merlin didn’t respond to Gwen.

“Yeah, I know,” Merlin said finally because he was tired of hearing it. “Look, I’m not upset. So maybe we can talk about something else.”

Gwen and Lance exchanged a look but they didn’t bring up Mordred again.

“Merlin.” Arthur appeared at his elbow and Merlin felt a wave of gratitude. Arthur probably wouldn’t bring up Mordred. “Morgana wants you to meet her husband.”

“Oh, sure,” Merlin agreed, grateful to leave Gwen and Lance to their looks. He knew they were only trying to help, but the real help would be to forget about it for now.

Arthur led them through the crowd of people Merlin didn’t know, though Arthur seemed to know them all.

“Enjoying the party?” Merlin asked, sticking close to Arthur, actually glad that Arthur was there. It was a different feeling, one that reminded him strikingly of life fifteen years ago.

Arthur shrugged. “They’re all the same, but at least you’re at this one.”

Merlin smiled slightly, weaving after Arthur until he caught sight of Morgana. She stood with a tall man with dark hair, laughing at something he said.

“Merlin, come meet Cenred,” Morgana said eagerly, dragging Merlin forward and presenting him to the man next to her.

He certainly wasn’t the type Merlin had suspected Morgana would marry, but then again, he was comparing Cenred to Leon, who had been clean-cut, slightly posh, and seemed to emanate friendliness. Not that Cenred seemed unfriendly, but he certainly wasn’t posh or clean-cut.

Cenred did smile, though, and nod at Merlin. “Pleased to meet you.”

“So how did you two meet?” Merlin asked, and beside him, Arthur groaned.

“Not this story again.”

“Quiet, Arthur,” Morgana silenced him with a look. “It’s actually a funny story.”

“Scarring,” Arthur muttered.

“I was actually dating someone else at the time,” Morgana said, ignoring Arthur. “He was a well-to-do attorney. Father hated him—”

“Of course,” Arthur interjected. Merlin glanced at him and bit back his smile. As he recalled, Uther had not approved of anyone Morgana had dated.

“Well, he did sue the company,” she said dismissively. “Anyway, it was his birthday so I thought it would be fun to have some photographs taken. You know, tasteful, timeless, erotic.”

Arthur grimaced and Merlin had to stop himself from laughing.

“Boudoir photos?” he managed to ask. It was completely in-character for Morgana, he thought.

She nodded, smiling at Cenred. “And that’s how we met. Cenred took the photos and they were so beautiful.”

“I only capture the essence,” Cenred said and Arthur rolled his eyes.

“I need another drink,” Arthur said and Morgana scoffed.

“Some day, you’re going to find someone too, Arthur, and I promise I won’t roll my eyes at you.”

“Sure you will,” Arthur replied, but turned to Merlin. “Come to the bar with me?”

Merlin’s glass was half-full, but he didn’t really fancy staying here to hear more of the story which he was sure was not rated PG.

“It was nice meeting you,” he said to Cenred.

“I’m sure we’ll be seeing each other,” Cenred replied, and Arthur pulled Merlin away before Merlin could question his answer.

“Do you know how many times I’ve heard that story?” Arthur asked as they headed for the bar.

“I’m guessing too many.”

“You got lucky. That was the detail-light version.”

Merlin laughed. “I’m sure I don’t want to hear the rest.”

“You probably will someday if Morgana has her way,” Arthur said, setting his elbow on the bar and sighing.

“She’s right, you know,” Merlin said with a shrug. “You’ll meet someone some day and be as gooey as they are.”

“Punch me if that ever happens,” Arthur insisted. He ordered his drink from the bartender and turned to the room. “I can’t believe it’s been four years already. So much has changed since then.”

Merlin frowned. He couldn’t help the small part that felt guilty about not being there for Arthur, the part he’d squished down into the farthest reaches of his brain when he’d vowed never to speak to Arthur again. He obviously hadn’t kept that promise.

Arthur got his drink and they wandered into the room. Everything appeared golden around them, from the walls to the carpet to the lights shimmering on the walls.

“Do you think you ever will?” Merlin asked as they reached the other side of the room, away from the crowd, near what was probably a hallway leading to other parts of the hotel. “Find someone?”

Arthur didn’t reply right away, ice clinking in his glass. “Why do you say that?”

Merlin shrugged. “Well, we’re not exactly as young as we were. I just dumped a guy who thought I was the crypt-keeper because I was over thirty.”

Arthur frowned. “You’re thirty-five. You’re not dead. A lot of people don’t find someone until later.”

“I know,” Merlin said with a sigh. “It just feels like it’s never going to happen.”

It wasn’t as if Merlin had thought Mordred was the one but he hadn’t expected it to end like this. Then again, he hadn’t expected to be standing here with Arthur having a civil conversation after so many years either.

“Merlin,” Arthur said, and something in his voice made Merlin look over, a crease to his forehead. “There’s something I need to talk to you about.”

“What?” Merlin asked cautiously. It wasn’t exactly ‘we need to talk’ but it evoked the same sort of emotion—panic and confusion.

“Here, let’s go in here,” Arthur said, pushing open the door behind them. It led to a small room off the main hall. Chairs were stacked in a corner as Arthur flipped on the light, illuminating the dark red carpet. Merlin stepped in gingerly, his mind racing with thoughts of what Arthur might be about to tell him.

“Arthur, what’s going on?” Merlin asked nervously, crossing his arms and staying close to the door.

Arthur turned to him, seeming to take a breath. “I’ve been trying to figure out how to say this for, well, years, honestly. I wasn’t sure I’d ever get another chance.”

“What are you doing?” Merlin took a step back even though Arthur didn’t move. He felt suddenly trapped in this room, the air pressing in around him.

“A couple weeks ago, you told me I was thirteen years too late to apologize. I waited too long. But I was… I was afraid.”

Merlin stared. Arthur had never been afraid of anything, well except perhaps disappointing his father.

“What are you talking about?” These past few weeks, Merlin had tried. He had tried to move forward with Arthur, to let go of the past, but here Arthur was, dredging it up again.

Arthur frowned, tossing back his drink. “That night when we… got together, afterward, I couldn’t stop thinking that I was going to screw it all up. Our friendship. Us. If we had gotten together, we would have broken up and it would have been messy and painful and I would have lost you.”

Merlin didn’t know what to think. “So you thought snogging Vivian would help?”

Arthur sighed. “I didn’t think this would happen. I thought you’d write it off as drunken mistake and we’d move on. I didn’t think you’d stop talking to me.”

Merlin wasn’t sure what exactly Arthur was trying to say here. Afraid of losing Merlin? Afraid he’d screw it up? Did that mean he’d actually cared back then?

Uncrossing his arms, Merlin shook his head. “You broke my heart, Arthur. You tore it out of my chest and stomped on it for the whole world to see. How could I not have been upset? I waited forever for that night and you just turned around like it didn’t matter.”

Arthur stared, eyebrows furrowed in confusion. Merlin didn’t have it in him to feel sorry for Arthur at the moment. All he could think of was that moment he’d realized Arthur didn’t care about him the same way he did. The moment he’d realized he had to make a break.

It had almost worked, almost. Until Arthur had come waltzing back into his life as though nothing had changed, as if he hadn’t torn Merlin in half.

“I didn’t know,” Arthur said finally. “I thought it was just me, that I had these stupid feelings for you and it would ruin everything if you knew.”

“You liked me,” Merlin said slowly, as though his brain couldn’t quite wrap around the notion. “You liked me, so you hurt me.”

“I didn’t mean to,” Arthur said, sounding exasperated now. “Not like that. I thought it would just go away. And we wouldn’t have to talk about it. I had expectations to live up to then. Things I had to do in a certain order, and I wasn’t supposed to sleep with my best friend.”

“I don’t know what you’re trying to say, Arthur,” Merlin said, frustrated. “It’s been years since this happened. You hurt me more than you possibly could know. I didn’t understand why you did it. And I don’t know why you’re here now, after all this time.”

“I’m saying I made a mistake,” Arthur said finally, watching Merlin carefully. Merlin looked away. He’d wanted to hear this for so long but now he wasn’t sure what it meant. “One I’ve been regretting ever since. For a long time, I tried to forget about it. I threw myself into work. I did everything everyone wanted me to do. I knew I couldn’t just call you up and say I was sorry and you’d forgive me. I had to change. What I’m saying is I wish I could take back the last thirteen years. I wish I could take back the day after. But I can’t. I can’t change what I did. I’m here because I don’t want to be just friends with you. I want more.”

Merlin’s heart thundered in his chest. He could feel his own pulse in his throat, the constriction in his lungs as his brain struggled to process everything. Arthur wanted him. Arthur had always wanted him.

Some part of him, some part that was still twenty years old, lying on that bed with Arthur as they agreed to get married, jumped excitedly, clawing its way to the forefront of his mind. But the other part, the part that remembered the way his whole world had crumbled seeing Arthur with Vivian, that part shoved it back.

Merlin didn’t know what to do, what to say. He stood there with Arthur, feet apart, the party continuing on just on the other side of the door, like they weren’t even having this moment.

“I can’t,” he said finally, the words forcing their way out. “I can’t do this right now.” He couldn’t handle this, not tonight, not after Mordred, after Gwaine, after everything that had happened lately.

“Merlin,” Arthur said, taking a swift step forward. “I’m sorry for everything I did. I was young and stupid and hung-up on other people’s expectations. I’m not like that anymore.”

Merlin’s hand were shaking as he reached for the doorknob. “I have to go,” was all he said as he left the room and Arthur behind. He couldn’t do this, not now. He had to get out of there. So he left Arthur and his unanswered question at the party and headed home to his empty flat.

*

Merlin would admit to being distracted as he sat behind his desk listening to the scratch of twenty pencils on paper. The clock ticked loudly in the background, slower and slower it seemed as he sat there.

His mind wasn’t on keeping an eye out for people sneaking glances at other’s papers. It wasn’t on the way Porter in the last row hadn’t written a thing in ten minutes, instead staring out the window, or the way Eades frowned at his essay like it had wronged him somehow.

His mind was on Arthur, Arthur’s words, the way he had looked at Merlin when he left, desperate, pleading, remorseful.

It was thirteen years too late, Merlin kept telling himself. Thirteen years of wasted time, time they could have been happy together all because Arthur had been afraid. Ironic, though, Merlin admitted. That Arthur being afraid of ruining things had, in fact, ruined things. As an English teacher, Merlin could at least appreciate irony.

Of course, Arthur wasn’t all to blame. Merlin was old enough, wise enough, to know it hadn’t all been Arthur’s fault. Merlin hadn’t talked to him about it then, hadn’t confronted him about Vivian. Instead, he’d simply turned and ran. If he hadn’t, maybe things would have turned out differently.

Pencil scratched in the quiet of the room. It was an unusually sunny day, distracting. Merlin couldn’t concentrate on teaching. He could only think of what he was supposed to do now.

It wasn’t thirteen years ago anymore. There were no excuses left.

The clock ticked loudly and Merlin finally looked up at it.

“Alright,” he said to the surprise of most of the students, who jumped at his voice. “Turn in your essays. Class is dismissed.”

Chairs scraped as students rushed to the door, dropping their papers unceremoniously on Merlin’s desk. Merlin didn’t stand up, grateful for the emptiness of the room.

“Professor.”

Surprised, Merlin looked up. Cavanaugh stood before him, the rest of the room empty behind him.

“Mr. Cavanaugh,” Merlin said, pulling himself together. “You’re going to be late to your next class.”

Cavanaugh didn’t move except to shift his weight. “Sir, I need to ask you something.”

“If it’s about the exam, I will have them back next week.”

“No,” Cavanaugh said, and it was then that Merlin noticed how nervous he looked, a twitch to his fingers as he clutched his bag. Unusual for him.

“Is something wrong?” he asked, and Cavanaugh glanced at the open classroom door instead. Merlin took the hint and got up to close it, coming back to lean against his desk.

Merlin wasn’t usually the one students went to with their problems. After all, they had a school counselor for this sort of thing.

He waited for Cavanaugh to speak first, to tell him what was making him clutch the strap of his book bag so tightly.

Cavanaugh hesitated as though he wasn’t quite sure he wanted to do this. “I heard, well, people say that you’re… gay.”

Merlin crossed his arms gently. “It’s not exactly a secret, if that’s what you’re wondering.”

Cavanaugh shook his head. “No, I just wondered how you dealt with it, in school.”

“Ah,” Merlin said as he realized what he was asking. He felt bad for the kid, and worse that he didn’t have an answer to his problem. “To be honest with you, I kept my head down, avoided anyone who might make my life worse, much as your friend Mr. Porter is trying to do.”

Cavanaugh frowned. “Did that work?”

Merlin sighed. “Not really, no. But you’re not like me, Spencer. You are popular and you have a lot of friends, and that’s the most important thing. Friends will protect you. True friends won’t judge you. They’ll only look out for you.”

Like Gwaine. Merlin grimaced at the thought.

“You can’t be afraid to stand up for yourself,” he said. “And I don’t know what’s going on with Mr. Porter, but he may need you to stand up for him too.”

“I can’t believe this is happening,” Cavanaugh muttered. “Noah won’t talk to me now. He thinks I abandoned him. Just ‘cause we got caught. Stupid, fucking Head.”

“Careful,” Merlin warned him. He sighed, though, as Cavanaugh huffed, jaw clenched. “As Jane Austen says, ‘we are all fools in love.’ I can’t fix your problem. Only you can. But if it makes you feel any better, things will get better once you get out of here. The world is much more accepting than teenagers.”

Cavanaugh didn’t seem reassured but he didn’t say anything else. Merlin glanced at the clock. He was certainly late to his next class.

“Do you need a pass for your next class?”

“No, thank you, sir,” Cavanaugh muttered, shouldering his bag and heading for the door. He paused, though, turning back. “Thanks.”

Merlin smiled slightly as Cavanaugh left. He was glad he wasn’t a teenager anymore, not that that stopped him from having similar problems.

He supposed, though, as he sat back down at his desk, that it was time he made things right with his own friends who, after all, were only looking out for him.

*

The most surprising thing was finding Gwaine home on a Saturday night. Gwaine stood in the doorway, arms crossed, casually blocking Merlin’s way in.

“Come to yell at me some more?” Gwaine asked, tilting his head to the side as Merlin frowned. He hadn’t expected it to be easy, but he’d hoped Gwaine would be a little more receptive to him.

“Actually, I came to apologize,” he said and Gwaine’s eyebrows rose slightly.

“In that case, come on in,” Gwaine said, stepping aside and letting Merlin in. Gwaine didn’t offer Merlin a drink, a sign he was still upset, Merlin took it.

The apartment was messy as usual, jackets flung over chairs, dishes in the sink.

“Percy’s not here?” Merlin asked as he sat gingerly on the couch.

“He has a match,” Gwaine said. He didn’t sit but remained standing, a slight tension to his shoulders. “I believe you came to say something?”

“Gwaine, stop it,” Merlin said. “I’m sorry for what I said. I was just upset that you hated my boyfriend so much.”

Gwaine sighed, the tension dropping from his body. “I know I wasn’t the nicest about it. I just don’t like him or trust him. I just want you to find someone, someone good.”

Merlin bit his lip. He’d have to say it. “Mordred and I broke up,” he forced himself to say. He knew Gwaine would only gloat about this forever.

“Oh,” Gwaine said instead, sinking onto the couch. “Really?”

“Yes, really,” Merlin said, watching him carefully. “So go ahead and say you told me so.”

“Merlin,” Gwaine said, grabbing him into a sideways hug, a little too tight. “I don’t want to say it. I don’t want to ever be right about that kind of thing.”

“Then why did we get into this stupid fight?”

“Because you weren’t listening to me,” Gwaine said and Merlin shoved him away. “You knew deep down, I was right, didn’t you?”

Merlin hated that Gwaine was right. He and Mordred would never have really worked out. He just didn’t like being told it to his face.

“Next time, just try a little harder, okay?”

Gwaine patted his leg. “I firmly believe there is someone better out there. Someone we’ll all like.”

“Yeah,” Merlin agreed, his thoughts flitting to Arthur. He still hadn’t figured out what to do there. He couldn’t ignore it forever. Arthur deserved some sort of answer, and so did Merlin.

Gwaine settled on the couch next to him, reaching for the remote and switching on the TV.

Merlin glanced at him. “What are you doing home anyway? It’s Saturday night.”

“I can stay in,” Gwaine said, but on Merlin’s look, he scoffed. “What? I can.”

“You never have,” Merlin pointed out. “Is this because of Percy?”

“What would it have to do with Percy?”

Merlin stared as he realized. “Oh my God,” he said as Gwaine frowned. “You really like him, don’t you? You love him.”

“Piss off, Merlin,” Gwaine said, shoving his shoulder.

“I can’t believe it,” Merlin said, laughing. “You finally found someone. Someone real. And before me; that’s depressing.”

“It’s not a big deal,” Gwaine said, though he was trying not to smile. Merlin could tell. “It’s just Percy.”

Merlin grinned. “I’m happy for you,” he said. “And I’m glad to know it’s possible.”

“What?” Gwaine asked suspiciously.

“If you can find love, there’s definitely hope for me.”

“Fuck you,” Gwaine said playfully, smacking Merlin with the remote, but Merlin didn’t care. If Gwaine could do it, even he had a shot.

*

The office building loomed above Merlin, white and somehow shiny, but that might have just been the sun reflecting off the windows. He’d never been here, never even know this building was here. It was hard to believe he’d lived in this city for so many years and never bothered to explore much beyond his usual haunts.

The elevator swept him up to the fifth floor, opening to reveal a large room filled with desks, offices, and one too many plants. He felt unusually nervous as he searched for the right office.

There it was, the door open, Arthur sitting at his desk, typing something on his computer. The desk outside his office was empty and Merlin hesitated before stepping up to the door. He had to do this. He couldn’t spend another thirteen years like the last.

Bracing himself, he took a breath and knocked on the door frame.

Arthur answered without looking up. “Sophia, I asked you not to—Merlin.” Arthur stood up quickly, as though confused to see Merlin standing in his office.

“Bad time?” Merlin asked, shifting awkwardly. He almost couldn’t believe he was going to do this.

“No,” Arthur said quickly, stepping out from behind the desk. He was wearing that red silk tie again and Merlin tore his gaze from it. “What are you…”

Merlin fidgeted as his heart chose this moment to beat faster. “I was angry with you for a long time,” he said finally as Arthur moved closer. “And it wasn’t all your fault. I should have said something then. But that’s in the past.” He wasn’t making any sense. All the things he’d wanted to say seemed to have flown out of his brain in the presence of Arthur, Arthur’s blue eyes staring into his, unsure. He huffed. “What I’m trying to say is that… I’m willing to give it another chance. You. Give you, us, another chance.”

This was it. There was no turning back this time. For so long, he’d been angry with Arthur, convinced it was something he’d done, something he was. He’d been wrong. They’d both been wrong.

Arthur didn’t reply right away and Merlin began to think he’d made another terrible mistake when Arthur did move, stepping behind him, shutting the office door and turning to Merlin.

“You’re serious?” he asked finally. “You really want to do this?”

Merlin smiled at his heart beat furiously. “As long as we don’t screw it up again.”

Arthur smiled, much to Merlin’s relief. “Can’t guarantee that, we can certainly try.”

Merlin didn’t know who moved first, but Arthur’s arms were around him, their mouths pressed together in a kiss that felt just like the first time. Something inside Merlin seemed to break open, a flood of emotions rushing through him. It was like happiness and excitement all at once, filling him, threatening to burst out of him.

Arthur grinned when he pulled back, running a hand through Merlin’s hair. He pressed their foreheads together, and Merlin allowed himself to simply be happy for once.

“No mistakes this time,” Arthur said, and Merlin laughed.

“Just the good ones,” he said, pulling Arthur back to his lips. This time, though, he knew he wasn’t making a mistake.

*

Epilogue

The sun shone through the window in another unusually sunny day, like the universe was happy. Or at least, that was what Merlin chose to think as he gazed out at the garden. Turning from the window, he went to the mirror, adjusting his tie. Blue silk.

Behind him, the door creaked open and footsteps fell muffled on the carpet.

“We’re not allowed to see each other,” Merlin said as he turned to find Arthur behind him, dressed in a similar suit.

“That’s just silly superstition,” Arthur said, stepping up to Merlin and fixing his tie again.

“You don’t want to curse this, do you?” Merlin asked, but he smiled anyway as Arthur laughed.

“I think if we can make it this far, we can overcome something as mundane as a curse.”

Merlin gazed at Arthur, the sparkling blue of his eyes, the dimple on his cheek when he smiled. “We’re really doing this.”

“Well, we only have one day left,” Arthur said, smoothing down Merlin’s jacket. “Then we’ll be too old.”

“Thirty-six is not too old,” Merlin said, sliding his arms around Arthur’s waist.

“But you’re still thirty-five today,” Arthur reminded him. “And according to the agreement—”

“Enough about the agreement,” Merlin interrupted him, pressing a kiss to his lips. “We made it here, didn’t we?”

Arthur smiled, kissing Merlin again, deeper, in a way that made Merlin feel like he was falling into him.

“We did,” Arthur agreed, hugging Merlin to him. “So how about a quickie before the ceremony?”

Merlin laughed and shove him away. “Afterward, I promise.”

“In the rose garden?”

“If you’re good,” Merlin said, stepping away from Arthur. “Now go out there. Your husband-to-be will be there soon.”

Arthur grinned, pressing one last kiss to Merlin’s lips. “See you in a bit.”

He left, and Merlin adjusted his tie one last time before heading to the door. There was no turning back now, and he didn’t want to.

... must be in want of a wife.

*

FIN.