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“Maybe that’s Ralph,” Arthur says, watching Merlin leave the room to go get the door. Ralph may have just returned from walking the dog and decided to pop in for some coffee with Arthur. After watching a couple of Arthur’s classes, their neighbor has decided to learn to sword fight. He’s also let up a bit on his suspicions of Merlin manhandling Arthur after witnessing just how physical the advanced class could get. Arthur thought it decidedly nice not seeing that worried expression on Ralph’s face anymore.
Arthur hears talking in the living room and finishes rinsing the cup he’s holding before walking through the arched doorway. He’s surprised to find Brandon Davies standing there, looking fresh and oddly handsome in a red jumper and dark trousers, hands buried deep in the pockets of his navy pea coat.
“Hello, Arthur,” Brandon smiles at him, and Arthur tries to smile back but suspects it comes off as more of a grimace.
“Hello, Brandon. To what do we owe this pleasure so early in the morning?”
“I’m working on a new book, and I need to do some research. I thought I’d give Merlin a ride to the shop.”
“How considerate,” Arthur replies stonily.
“Well, since I found myself wide awake at four AM and really want to get started on my research, I thought I’d get going. It’s no trouble at all to pick up Merlin. I know how he dislikes driving, and it’s a bit chilly this morning for the bicycle.”
Arthur gives Brandon his most impenetrable gaze, forcing the other man to look away first.
“I’m ready, then, Brandon,” Merlin pipes up, shrugging into his coat. His eyes widen as he approaches Arthur for a goodbye kiss, obviously trying to convey that this is not something he can turn down without seeming a real prat. Arthur draws Merlin in, kissing him deeply, completely ignoring their guest. Merlin’s hands weakly push at Arthur’s chest, trying to prod him away, but Arthur swipes his tongue over Merlin’s, and Merlin relents.
Finally, Arthur lets Meriln go, happy to see him looking a bit dazed.
“I’ll walk down to the shop and have lunch with you,” Arthur tells him, and Merlin nods jerkily, tripping over his own feet to get to the front door, which Brandon holds open for him.
“Oh, and Merlin,” Arthur says, leaning against the archway to the foyer.
Merlin turns around, eyes dilated so that only a bit of the blue shows. “Yeah?”
“Be sure to wear your gloves so your hands don’t get cold.” Arthur smiles, watching Merlin blink stupidly at him for long seconds before the words sink in.
“Gloves. Right, yeah, okay.” He pulls them out of his coat pocket and puts them on. Arthur watches him walk to the elevator, Brandon babbling alongside him about something, before closing the door with a scowl. Stupid Brandon Davies. Why the hell did he turn up? Arthur thought he’d given up on nosing around in their lives. The bloody bastard.
With a sigh, Arthur gets his cookbook off the shelf and looks for something he might have the ingredients for that he can take to the shop for lunch. He settles on some relatively easy meat pies and gets to work.
Three failed starts, two broken dishes, and one trip to the basement to incinerate the rag rug he stained the hell out of, Arthur has two decent-sized pies in the oven and has started a load of dishes in the dish washer.
Arthur then has to change his clothes because they’re covered in flour, so he heads for the bedroom. Although he’s gotten relatively good at cooking, he still isn’t able to do it without making a mess of everything around him, including himself.
Aithusa lies on the bed, head on Merlin’s pillow.
“You’re supposed to be on the bed on the window sill,” Arthur scolds her. “Merlin will be cross if you don’t learn to like it, you know.” He strips off his shirt and grabs another from the closet, pulling it over his head. “And what was that stink you made in your box?” Aithusa raises her head to look at him through slitted eyes. “You don’t expect me to clean that, do you?” Arthur wrinkles his nose. “No, you’re right. Let’s leave it for Merlin.”
He grabs up his keys and goes back into the kitchen to check on the pies. They smell heavenly, and as they seem to be evenly brown, he grabs a pot holder and takes them out, turning the oven off, thinking about how he’d like to take Merlin over the back table of the shop before they eat. Something about that addled look Merlin gave him before he left has Arthur feeling hot and bothered.
Quickly, he wraps up the pies, grabs his coat, and heads out.