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Arthur takes the chocolate chip cookies out of the oven and puts them on the stove. They look much better than the last batch—he lifts one up with a spatula and grins when he finds the bottom a nice golden brown.
He has a class that night, but it’s a light day at the book shop, so he didn’t go in with Merlin. He plans to make enough cookies to take and share at the shop tomorrow. Glancing at the cookbook, he says aloud, “Time to move on to Cherry Macaroons.”
Grabbing some of an earlier batch that have cooled, Arthur puts them into a container and goes out in the hall to knock on Ralph’s door. Buttons immediately begins barking, and Arthur hears Ralph admonish him.
“Arthur!” Ralph smiles when he opens the door. “Come in. Cookies…you are thickening my waistline, my friend! I’ve had to increase my evenings at the gym.”
“So have I,” Arthur admits. Although swordplay burns quite a bit of calories, Arthur doesn’t want to get fat. Merlin continues to have the metabolism of a thirteen-year-old. He sets the cookies on the counter and pets Buttons. Realising that Ralph is staring, Arthur asks, “What?”
Ralph shakes his head. “Those bruises on your arm…”
Arthur looks down at them. “Oh. Cain got a bit overzealous the other night in class.” He has to admit his right forearm has taken on the appearance of an overly ripe banana.
Ralph’s eyes look troubled. “You got them in class.”
“Yes,” Arthur’s smile fades at the look on Ralph’s face and the disbelieving tone of his voice. “What’s the matter?”
“Arthur, you would tell me if something else were going on, wouldn’t you? I mean, we are friends.”
Arthur frowns. He has no idea what Ralph is talking about, but he nods. “Of course.”
Back in his flat, Arthur cleans the kitchen. His mobile buzzes, and he quickly grabs it up, thinking of Merlin, but the name on the screen causes Arthur to put it down again. Why would he be calling? To flirt? To talk about the kiss? Arthur ignores it, letting it go to voicemail, which he doesn’t listen to.
Instead, he decides to walk to the shop. He misses Merlin, and he’s tired of baking.
It’s a lovely day out; autumn continues to creep in, and Arthur’s happy to be able to wear his hoodie again. A noise overhead draws Arthur’s attention to the sky. It’s one of those machines…he can’t ever recall the name properly. A steel bird of some sort that Merlin insists people ride inside. Arthur doesn’t understand how they can possibly do it, and even if it were possible, Arthur doesn’t think he would do it. It sounds insane! Right now the thing is just a spot in the open sky reflecting sun, a long trail of white behind it. Oddly, the noise of it seems to be lagging behind, too.
At the shop, Merlin’s smile is so happy when he sees Arthur come through the door, Arthur wishes there wasn’t a customer between them so he could grab Merlin up and kiss him. Instead, he takes a seat and pours a cup of tea.
“I didn’t expect you to come in today,” Merlin says after the woman finally leaves.
“I missed you,” Arthur grins. “And I’m tired of cookies.”
Merlin leans down for a kiss and then sits beside him. “Do you have class tonight?”
“Yes. We’ll hardly see one another before bed. That’s another reason I came by.” Arthur takes a sip of tea.
Merlin leans back in the chair. “Did your cookies turn out well?”
Arthur sniffs. “Of course.”
Merlin eyes him. “How many did you burn?”
“Just one batch,” Arthur admits. “I gave another dozen to Ralph.” He frowns. “He said something odd I couldn’t figure out.” He relates the earlier conversation to Merlin.
“Oh, my God!” Merlin groans. “He thinks I beat you!”
“What? Why…what makes you think that?”
“Remember the night you told me about Dirk? All the noise and glass? And now you’re bruised! He actually thinks I’m abusing you!”
“But that’s ridiculous,” Arthur scoffs. “I could take you any day.”
Merlin shakes him head. “Domestic violence doesn’t work like that.” He puts his head in his hands. “Oh, shit.”
“It’s not that big of a deal,” Arthur soothes. “We’ll just set him straight.”
Merlin raises his head. “And say what? That my magic broke all our dishes?” He leans back, looking stricken. “I hate this.”
“Merlin, I can just assure him the bruises really are from class and that night we had a row and threw stuff, but that you emphatically don’t hit me.”
Merlin pouts. “He won’t believe you. In the back of his mind, he’s always going to think I’m hurting you.”
Merlin is right; Arthur can see it in Ralph’s eyes every time they speak. And to make matters worse, a new student’s hand slips and the pommel of his sword hits Arthur in the face, giving him a black eye.
“Ralph, I know what you’re thinking,” Arthur says when Ralph literally gasps at the sight of the black and green bruise. “But I assure you, this is from class. Merlin does not beat me—the very thought is absurd! He won’t even kill crickets when he finds them in the flat! Insists on taking them all the way downstairs and outside. The very notion of him trying to hurt me is preposterous. Not to mention the fact that I could hold both his wrists in one hand.” That might be exaggerating a bit—Merlin’s grown quite a lot since the days he first became Arthur’s manservant.
Ralph puts a hand on Arthur’s arm. “All right, Arthur. But remember, I’m here for you.”
Arthur doesn’t even mention that conversation to Merlin; it would upset him too much. As they lie in bed, Merlin’s head resting on Arthur’s chest, legs entwined, Arthur is almost asleep when Merlin speaks, surprising him with a new topic.
“Arthur, why haven’t you answered any of Dirk’s phone calls?”
Arthur blinks into the darkness. “There’ve only been two. One yesterday, and one today. How did you know he’s been ringing?”
“He rang me this afternoon.”
Arthur stiffens, surprised. “What did he want?”
“He only wants to talk to you about the movies he’s filming. They’ve lost one of their main sword fighters, and they want you to replace him.” Merlin raises his head to look at Arthur. “I wanted to tell him to bugger off. I’d already cussed him out about the kiss…good thing there were no customers in the shop.”
“He wants me to go to New Zealand?” Arthur asks, amazed.
Merlin nods, biting his lip. “It would be such a great opportunity for you, Arthur.”
“But?”
“But…I couldn’t go with you, and you’d have to fly.”
“Fly?” For a moment, Arthur can’t grasp what Merlin means, and then he remembers the steel birds. “Fuck, no.”
“It isn’t as bad as you think,” Merlin tells him.
“How long will it take? The filming, I mean,” Arthur prefers not to think about the flying part.
“About a month, Dirk said. It’s not a big part, but Arthur…you don’t know what an opportunity this is for you.”
“You want me to do it,” Arthur states, surprised.
Merlin sits up, his figure shadowy in the darkness. “Of course I don’t! I don’t want you to fly off somewhere you’ve never been to be around people you don’t know and work with a man who fancies you! Do you think I’m crazy?”
Arthur can’t help but smile at that. “So, you don’t want me to go. I won’t, then.”
“But Arthur, the money—the recognition! This could mean real work for you that utilises your merits! I don’t see how you can pass it up. I would be a selfish bastard to keep you from doing this.”
“Why didn’t you tell me about it earlier?” Arthur asks curiously.
“Because I’m just a bit of a selfish bastard,” Merlin admits, settling onto Arthur’s chest when Arthur tugs him downward. Arthur kisses the top of Merlin’s head.
“Let’s not talk about it now.”
“We’ll have to soon enough. They want you to come right away. You’ll have to ring him tomorrow.”
Arthur sighs, hand running down Merlin’s bare back to rest on the swell of his arse. The thought of leaving Merlin for a month is unbearable, the thought of riding in one of those contraptions in the sky almost as bad.
But the opportunity to really do something in this world with his talents …Arthur can’t quite throw the notion away.