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“So,” Arthur sits down beside Merlin on the park bench and puts his arm over the back of it. “Father wants us to come to dinner on Sunday.”
“No.” Merlin unwraps his sandwich and bites into it.
“Not even going to give it a little thought?” Arthur asks, brow lifting.
“I don’t need to. I don’t like the way he treats you, and I’m angry at him for trying to ruin my business. He can go to hell.”
Arthur chuckles. “Why don’t you tell me how you really feel, Merlin?”
Merlin puts his sandwich down and looks at Arthur. “Do you honestly expect me to go and sit across the table from that man after what he did to me and Will?”
“Actually, I thought I’d sit across from him, and you could sit next to me, which would technically put you diagonal to him,” Arthur quips, giving Merlin his most fetching smile.
“Stop.”
Arthur sighs. “Merlin, my father is always going to be around, and it’s possible he wants to make amends before the wedding.”
“I doubt that.”
“Morgana and Leon will be there…we’ll have buffers.”
Merlin looks at Arthur long and hard. “This is important to you?”
Arthur nods.
“You do realize that if we do this, it very well could be catastrophic. I will not put up with him insulting you.”
“I’m used to it,” Arthur says.
“I don’t care,” Merlin's sharp eyes never leave Arthur’s. “I won’t put up with it.”
Arthur holds Merlin’s gaze for a full minute before saying, “All right. Thank you, Merlin, for doing this. I told Father to be on his best behaviour if you consent to come.”
Merlin nods and picks up his sandwich again, offering it to Arthur, who takes a bite.
"I’ve lost my appetite.” Merlin sets the rest of it on the bench.
“It won’t be that bad,” Arthur tells him. “Father will pointedly ignore the bad thing he did, put us down for taking that cheap vacation to the shore, tell Leon his hair’s too long, and try to change everything we’ve decided about the wedding.”
“Joy. Sounds like great digestion conversation. I’ll have an ulcer by the time we leave,” Merlin complains.
“I’m angry at him, too, Merlin,” Arthur says, bumping shoulders with him. “And believe you me, he knows it, or he wouldn’t be holding out this olive branch.”
“Dinner at his home is an olive branch for trying to destroy my livelihood?” Merlin asks. “Wow, and I’ll bet he’s not even cooking it.”
“Of course not,” Arthur says. “He has a chef.” He wipes his mouth with a napkin.
“Arthur,” Merlin stares at his feet. “You realize your father’s never going to change, right?”
“If he doesn’t, he’s going to lose me,” Arthur turns to Merlin. “because I’m not losing you.”
Merlin’s chest hurts. He feels rotten for ever entertaining the idea of breaking up with Arthur over his father. “It’s not like it would be easy to get rid of me.”
“But Father could drive you away,” Arthur says. “I know he could. And I won’t let that happen, Merlin. You’re too important to me. Father will have to accept you—accept us. Or he’s going to find himself out of my life for good.”
Arthur leans forward and kisses Merlin, and Merlin can taste the mayonnaise and pickle from the sandwich. Placing his hand on the nape of Arthur’s neck, he pulls him in closer, kissing him almost roughly.
“I love you, Arthur Pendragon.”
Arthur smiles, a flash of sun on an otherwise cloudy day. "Of course you do. Spend the night at mine tonight,” he squeezes Merlin’s hand.
Merlin rolls his eyes. “I’ll have to get up a half hour earlier if I do.”
“But it’ll be worth it to sleep beside me.”
Merlin smiles. “Yeah. Okay. I’ll see you there.” He kisses Arthur again and gets to his feet.