Archive of Our Own

Merlin presses the phone against his chest, exhaling quickly. He stands in an unfamiliar room, surrounded by childhood embarrassments that any other day he'd be delighted to find, from the DuckTales comics on the bookshelf next to the desk and the footie pattern on the bed cover to the old faded stickers on the closet door. Instead of lingering on them, he kicks his own bag so it slides closer to the bed and looks at the bathroom door on the far wall. 

“They’re here already, I’m going to say hi!”

“What?” comes muffled from the bathroom.

Merlin has said enough, Arthur needs no more information than this. He turns to leave the room, stopping once he sees the old poster on the door. He hesitates, mouth moving to a grin, but he forces it down. He doesn’t have time for it right now, and he needs to move before Arthur returns.

The hall outside the room is more foreign to him than the room he just left, and that’s saying something. At least the bedroom had a lived-in look to it, even if said living had happened decades prior. One long wall of the hallway is completely lined with paintings of landscapes, the opposite wall covered with doors, up until a turn that might lead to stairs. Or more doors. Or both. He had known the Pendragons had money, but he hadn't known. 

Footsteps approach from the left. "Merlin?" 

“Gwen?”

“What's the matter?” comes the beautiful voice of his angelic savior, followed by said angel herself as she comes into view. She's in a purple dress, a little more dressed up than usual, her hair pulled up in a bun that can't contain a few of her strands of hair. He's never cherished the sight this much. 

“Okay, so.” He steps, hand racking through his hair, sticking it up out of place even further. He glances at the bedroom door behind him, then at Gwen again. “You know Arthur,” he speaks in a loud whisper, hand cupped in front of his mouth. 

“I do, yes,” Gwen says, clearly amused. “He’s my friend.”

“And your ex,” Merlin supplies. “And your girlfriend’s brother. That must be awkward at family reunions.”

“Not anymore,” Gwen says. “Is this what you wanted to talk about?”

“No? Well, yes? I mean,” Merlin shifts his weight, tucking his hands under his armpits. “We're here, at Lord Pendragon's evil lair, and I know Arthur asked me to come, but—”

“He did finally—”

“No, you know he’d never—”

“Merlin! Arthur—”

“Yeah, yeah, he’d be an idiot to not want me back,” Merlin mutters, glancing back at the bedroom door. “Well, he’s an idiot, no surprise there.”

“Oh, Merlin,” Gwen says, obviously disappointed. “When Morgana said you'd be coming together, I thought he had taken advantage of the Christmas celebration to let you know how he feels."

"What he feels is like not putting up with his father's terrible matchmaking skills."

"So when he asked you to come...." 

"It's to fake a relationship so his father doesn't throw him at another Sophia."

"I'm sorry," she says, placing a hand on his shoulder and giving it a squeeze. 

"I can't blame him, do you remember Sophia? She tried to drown him in alcohol to get him to share his bank account information. Or was that Vivian?" 

"No, Vivian wanted him to run off the country with her, didn't she?" 

"You're right. She made me miss Elena." 

"Didn't you insist Elena was possessed?" Gwen raises her eyebrows. 

"No! No, no." Merlin pauses and tilts his head. "I did suggest she might have been swapped at birth by a fairy." 

"Much better," Gwen says, smiling at him. "So, was this the emergency?" 

"Ah, well. Remember that bit about Arthur and I pretending to date? We've been put in the same room and… and there's only one bed." 

Gwen nods, looking at him. "And?" 

"Do you need more?" Merlin asks, removing his hands from his armpits at last to rub at the side of his head. "What am I going to do? I can't ask to sleep in a different room!" 

"Then just share the bed." 

"You make it sound so simple, when in fact it is very complicated," Merlin mutters. 

"I don't understand the issue. Is the bed small?" 

"No? Look, it's-" Merlin reaches back and opens the door so she can take a look at it herself, and freezes once he gets a look inside. "-Arthur! Hi."

Inside the room, there is one bed. Over the bed there is an open bag, and leaning over it is Arthur. 

Arthur is pulling an expensive-looking cardigan from the bag, one not much different from the one he's wearing at the moment. His shoulders are hunched over, relaxing a bit as he lifts his head up to look through the open door, his golden hair falling over his eyes. He lifts an eyebrow in question as he straightens up, his wide shoulders pulling back. As pleasing as it is to see him, it’s not what Merlin wanted right now.

"What on Earth are you doing standing there, Merlin? You look like you got hit in the head."

Merlin is in love with this man, what has he done to deserve this? Arthur's such an ass.

"I just came by to see you two," Gwen says, moving closer to the door. "Hi, Arthur."

"Oh, hello, Guinevere." Gone is the dragged out, prattish tone of voice, now all warmth and politeness. "We were going to look for you in a bit. Did you arrive alright?"

"Morgana knew the way," Gwen says, smiling. "I'm going back to our room to grab a coat, I'll see the two of you later?"

Arthur nods. "Tell Morgana to meet us in the small living room."

Gwen touches Merlin's arm lightly,  giving him a look that’s probably meant to be encouraging, and leaves.

Merlin waits by the door a little longer, watching as Arthur goes back to unpacking. "You have more than one living room?"

"Of course, we're not animals." Arthur lifts his chin, as he picks up a pair of socks from the bag. His voice almost didn’t betray his amusement, and if Merlin hadn’t been familiar with Arthur’s stupid sense of humour, he would think he was an even bigger ass than he actually is.

"But you only have one at your flat." 

Arthur stops, pair of socks in his hand. “And?”

“No, you’re right, you do behave like an animal.”

Arthur looks at Merlin with a grin, and throws the socks at him, hitting him the jaw. “Shut up. Are you going to unpack?”

"When we're only staying a night? No need," Merlin walks into the room at last. He leaves the socks on the floor for Arthur to pick up. "Speaking of, we're sharing a room."

"Of course?" Arthur glances at him for a moment, as he returns to his task. "Where else would we sleep? Unless," he stills, turning fully to Merlin. "Are you uncomfortable with sharing a bed?"

Right, someone who isn’t pining after their friend wouldn't have issues sharing a bed, right? Right. It's just a a normal night sharing a bed with a friend, and very much not a problem. "No, of course not."

"Then what's the matter?" Arthur asks.

That's a good question. Merlin closes the bedroom door behind him, stares at it for a breath, and turns to Arthur again. "It's just... my loneliness is killing me."

"What are you on today, Merlin?"

"Oh, when I'm not with you I lose my mind," Merlin moves off the door, revealing the Britney Spears poster glued to it.  "Give me a sign, hit me-"

It's a pair of trousers that hit his face this time around. Merlin laughs as he throws them back at Arthur, who to his delight seems to be blushing. "Didn't pin you for a Britney fan."

"You're the one who knows the lyrics, Merlin," Arthur replies, putting away the trousers. 

"Who doesn't know that one?" Merlin moves to sit on the bed, on the opposite side of Arthur's. He lies down backwards, turning his face to watch Arthur unpack.

Arthur gives him an amused look in return, corners of his mouth pulling up gently. “You’re an idiot.”

“Never heard that one before.”

Arthur just shakes his head and goes back to unpacking. Merlin gets to watch him move in close proximity as he refolds a sweater. There’s something pleasant in the domesticity of watching Arthur put away his clothes, and is this really what he’s come to? Fantasizing about Arthur taking care of his laundry? He must have done something very wrong in a past life. 

Still, his eyes follow Arthur’s movements, his hands as he gently refolds a shirt, a look of concentration on his face.

“Careful with that.”

Arthur doesn’t turn his head to look at him, lifting only his eyes. “What is it now?”

“I’m starting to see smoke coming off your ears.”

Arthur drops the sweater on his face. Merlin shoves it off in time to see him relax, the tension gone from his shoulders. 

“Listen,” Arthur says, taking the sweater back from him, “there’s no need to be nervous.”

“Nervous, me? Why would I be?” Merlin asks, crossing his arms.

“You already know my father,” Arthur reminds him.

“I think he tolerates me a bit now. Built up some immunity.”

“Right. And don’t think I don’t know about the group chat you have with my sister and Guinevere.”

“Was it supposed to be a secret?”

“You sure act like it was.”

“I didn’t want you to be jealous,” Merlin explains, a smile growing on his face.

Arthur raises his eyebrows, his own mouth visibly fighting a smile. “Of not being included in a group chat called ‘my gal my pal and me’? I’m devastated.”

“See, I knew you would be.”

Arthur chooses to ignore this. “You only don’t know my uncle Agravaine and Catrina, and I’m sure they’ll....” the sentence fades off, as he tries to find a good way to finish it.

“Tolerate me?” Merlin suggests. He's heard a bit about both, but the only thing he can really remember about them is Gwaine's hell theory.

Arthur looks at him, finally done with setting out the ridiculous amount of clothing he brought for a two day stay. He places the bag on the floor and leans over the bed, hand on the mattress a little above Merlin’s shoulder to support his weight.

“I know these circumstances aren’t ideal,” Arthur tries once more, eyes firm on Merlin’s. “So if you want to... to call this off....”

“No! No.”

The frown on Arthur’s face finally vanishes as he smiles down at Merlin.

Merlin looks down, from Arthur’s eyes to his mouth to the collar of his cardigan. Merlin’s heart hammers in his chest as he contains the urge to clasp a hand to the back of Arthur’s neck and pull him down for a kiss. Being attracted to someone, feeling the crashing wave of warmth hit his chest and tingle its way down his body, is rare enough that it still takes him by surprise when he looks at Arthur and wants, no matter how long he’s wanted this prat in particular. He doesn’t have enough practice at hiding his own wants, nor the shock of having them in the first place.

If this was a real relationship, Merlin might act on this urge to pull Arthur closer, to test their proximity, but it’s not. This is Arthur, who needs a friend as a buffer against his father’s matchmaking efforts, who thinks nothing of them sharing a bed, who leans over him with a smile so warm that it ignites a fire in Merlin. 

Arthur lands a hand on the top of his head, ruffling his hair hard for a moment, laughing as Merlin complains and tries to swat his hand away.

“Alright, alright.” He’s still grinning as he stops, fingers tender now as they fix the mess he made of Merlin’s hair. He gives it a hard pet afterwards, as if to make up for the gentleness of the act. “Come on, we better go if we want some time with the girls before the rest of my family shows up.”

The small living room, turns out, is bigger than the one Merlin shares with Will. Merlin’s taking a picture and posting it on their friends’ group chat as soon as he can.

Merlin’s phone is pushed down by Arthur, who is holding his own with his free hand. “You know, I’m starting to think you came here just to somehow make fun of the fact that my father has means.”

“It’s that or steal a few paintings. I’m sure your father won’t miss a few from the hallway.” Merlin puts the phone back in his pocket, feeling it vibrate against his leg.

“Do take the one in front of my bedroom, Merlin,” comes Morgana’s voice from the entrance, “If I have to look at it first thing in the morning one more time I might set it on fire.”

"Ah, it's you," Arthur says blandly.

"Yes, I was invited for Christmas. Shocking, isn't it?" Morgana comes in, arm hooked into the crook of Gwen's elbow, and the couple moves to sit down on a couch. 

"Hi, Morgana," Merlin says, sinking down on the couch next to theirs. 

"Oh, so now you want to speak to me?" Morgana asks, her tone a little too innocent.

Arthur sits down next to Merlin, raising an eyebrow at him.

"There are things you don't want to hear," Merlin says.

"Yes, like your voice."

"Morgana," Gwen chimes in, amused, pressing their shoulders together. 

"I know she's kidding," Merlin leans back to rest against the couch cushions. "Mostly."

"Hmm," Morgana doesn't deny it. "So, excited for Christmas?"

"I don't understand why you do Christmas at all," Merlin replies, "aren't you all atheists?" 

"Aren't you?" Arthur shoots back, leaning back into the couch as well as he turns to face him, his arm over the back.

"I’m agnostic, but I'm not the one celebrating Christmas with my family," Merlin replies.

Arthur tilts his head in begrudging agreement, and sinks back into the couch as well. His arm is over Merlin's shoulder now, hand touching the back of his neck.

"It's just our annual excuse to be spoiled, Merlin," Morgana answers for him.

“Like you need the excuse,” Arthur tells her. His fingers play lightly with the ends of Merlin’s hair, moving against his neck.

“You’re right, Gwen spoils me immensely,” Morgana says with obvious pleasure, turning to smile at her girlfriend. 

“Should I stop, then?” Gwen asks with a smile of her own, tucking some hair behind Morgana’s ear even as she speaks.

“Absolutely not,” Morgana lenas in to press a quick kiss to her cheek. She turns to Arthur afterwards. “What’s your excuse?”

“Me?” Arthur asks. “I’m not spoiled at all.”

Merlin snorts loudly. Arthur’s nails press against his scalp, dragging down to his neck, but if that was supposed to be a punishment then it didn’t quite work as intended.

“Got something to say, Merlin?”

Merlin slowly turns his head towards him, trying to both stop focusing on Arthur’s hand and prevent it from retreating. “If you got any more spoilt you’d be rotten.”

“Do you hear how he treats me?” Arthur asks his sister. “I do need Christmas.”

Arthur's arm rests more steadily now over his shoulder, his hand still, cupping the back of Merlin’s neck. Merlin can’t keep up with the conversation, doesn’t have the motor skills required to pull his buzzing phone from his pocket. He only somewhat manages to look away from Arthur and back to the girls again. 

Arthur’s touch isn’t completely foreign to him. Arthur has a tendency to reach for him, arm over his shoulders, ruffling his hair, knocking their shoulders together. But this, this is new. 

Well, Merlin’s not about to look a gift horse in the mouth, and if Arthur had planned to fool his sister as well, then he should have been clearer on the details before Merlin had time to panic about it to Gwen. Still, for the sake of the pretense and absolutely no other reason, Merlin slides on the couch so he’s leaning against Arthur. He can’t quite see Arthur’s face from this new position, but from the way he puffs out, chest rising and falling against Merlin’s arm, and the way he secures his arm around Merlin's shoulders, he can tell the prat is radiating smugness. 

Merlin nudges him slightly with his elbow, and shifts, lifting his hips so he can slide his phone off his trousers. The group chat got revived while he was obsessing over Arthur’s touch, it seems.

Arthur puffs out a laugh against his ear, clearly reading over his shoulder. “Surprisingly I’m with Gwaine on this one.”

“Don’t be an ass,” Merlin presses against him a little more firmly, as he goes through the motions of adding Will once again to the chat. 

“This happens on a weekly basis,” Arthur shrugs a little.

“It’s the second time this week,” Gwen says, from where she’s looking at her own phone. 

“'Tis the season,” Morgana says dryly, making Arthur laugh.

An echoing laugh can be heard from the hallway outside, feminine and loud, and Arthur stills beside Merlin, before leaning in closer.

“Brace yourself,” Arthur speaks against his ear, and before Merlin has time to process any of it he’s getting up.

Arthur’s stepmother, Catrina, comes into the room. She’s wearing a tight, warm-looking white dress that goes down to her knees, with a fur jacket covering her shoulders, and she opens her arms wide as she looks into the room and sees them all. “Merry Christmas, dears!”

“Merry Christmas, Catrina,” Gwen says gently, when no one else replies.

Arthur doesn't sit back down, so Merlin gets up beside him. His arm bumps into Arthur's, and then Arthur intertwines their fingers. He squeezes Merlin’s hand tight for a moment, and Merlin doesn't know which one of them needed the reassurance. Arthur's family is oddly intimidating. Well, Arthur’s family is odd.

"I know you kids wanted to have some time away from us older folks," Catrina continues, as if she wasn't at most a decade older than them. "But it's time to eat! I came to fetch you to dinner."

"Oh, wonderful," Morgana says, as she and Gwen get up as well from their couch. Her smile is too still on her face when she looks at Catrina.

"Come on, kids!" Catrina turns and leaves the room.

Morgana presses her face into Gwen's shoulder, who pats her head.  "There there."

"She's the worst," Morgana mutters, low enough that only they can hear it. She turns her head so she and Arthur can share a look, and what must be silent sibling communication. Merlin wouldn’t know much about it, but it seems to appease them both. Morgana lifts her head and lets Gwen fix her hair, and Arthur relaxes, some of the tension leaving his shoulders as he nudges Merlin.

“This was the easy part,” Arthur warns him, as he leads them out of the room. “Dinner is the real test.”

Dinner is the real test. When they get into the dining room, they find a long table with two men sitting at the end of it, wine glasses in hand. Uther Pendragon, dressed in an actual suit and tie for a Christmas Eve dinner with his offsprings, turns his gaze to his wife, smiling at her as she goes in, and then turns to the four of them. He speaks then, his voice not as warm as one would expect when greeting their children, “Sit down, let’s eat.”

Dinner is the worst test. Merlin quietly shuffles after Arthur, who sits down to his father’s right. Merlin sits beside him, and he doesn’t know with whom he’s supposed to make eye contact. Catrina sits in front of him, with Morgana to her right and Agravaine to her left. At least Merlin assumes it’s Agravaine, he hasn’t met the man and no one is making introductions.

Gwen, sweet, perfect Gwen, pats him discreetly on the knee from his other side. She smiles encouragingly when he glances at her.

“Isn’t it wonderful that we’re all here together?” Catrina gets up, leaning over to serve them all. “I haven’t had a Christmas with family since my family died in that tragic home invasion.” She pauses with a sigh, bringing the soup ladle close to her chest, and then she smiles again as she pours soup for maybe-Agravaine. “I’m really glad I get to have Christmas with family again!”

What the fuck. What is Merlin supposed to say to that? Is he supposed to answer at all? He can’t turn to look at either Arthur or Gwen at his sides for an answer, so he looks at Morgana, who is looking just as panicked. Did Catrina’s entire family really die or is she joking? Who mentions something like that so casually?

“You’re here with us now, my dove,” Uther says, and if his voice was cold before, now it’s way warmer than it should be in a family setting.

“And the family gets bigger every day!” she says, serving Merlin now. “Welcome, welcome, Marvin.”

“It’s Merlin.” Merlin manages to say. Arthur’s hand finds his own under the table and that’s something, at least.

She sits down, finished with the task. “Such an unusual name! Why did your parents give it to you?” 

“You’d have to ask my mum,” Merlin answers, feeling wrongfooted. “She likes birds.”

“How curious!” Catrina finally looks away from him and motions for everyone to start eating. “Bon appetit!” 

He loses Arthur’s hand on his own, but at least eating means he doesn’t have to speak. The soup, the soup is odd, it tastes like boiled pears, but it’s edible and no one is asking him about decisions made at a time when he didn’t even know how to speak. 

In fact, no one really talks for the duration of the meal, which makes him even more uneasy than it does to address Arthur’s family. They eat in silence, only broken by the sound of the cutlery hitting the plates, and Merlin doesn’t do Christmas, but this has got to be hands down the worst of his life.

He looks at Arthur once in a while, and then at Morgana, who only shrugs a little at him. Gwen gives him a sympathetic look, and the one time Merlin opens his mouth to comment on something, like maybe compliment the food? He's not a big pears fan but it'd be nice to break the silence, Morgana meets his eyes and shakes her head a bit. Did Merlin know Arthur's family was odd before he accepted to spend Christmas with them while pretending to date Arthur? He thought he did, but apparently not.

At least not speaking makes the meal go faster, which is probably the point of it, as Merlin can feel both Arthur and Morgana relax as everyone moves to the proper living room. If Merlin had thought the one they had been before was big, now he understands why Arthur would disagree. Uther's regular sized living room could fit most of Merlin and Will's flat in it. Paintings hang on every wall, there is no television, and there are two sofa sets, one with a long sofa facing two single sofas with a side table, and further into the room there's two long couches facing each other by a lit fireplace.

“The tree is new,” Arthur comments, looking at a tall decorated Christmas tree, which has lights and decorations hanging from it’s branches. The tree is a little too close to the fireplace for Merlin’s comfort. 

“Ah, yes, Catrina thought we should liven up the place for Christmas,” Uther says.

“I can’t believe you didn’t put any Christmas decorations!” Catrina leans against Uther, resting a hand on his chest. “What did you do before you had me?”

“Wasted away,” Uther turns to her.

“Surely not, you were very present when I first met you,” Catrina croons.

“Alright, I need a drink,” Arthur turns away, and Merlin follows him along to a cabinet.

“So, they, uh, they’ve always been like this?”

“You mean since they met six months ago?” Arthur pulls out two glasses on top of the cabinet, and pours them both some whiskey. 

“I’ll take that as a yes.”

“Arthur, pour one for me,” comes Uther’s voice from behind them, making Merlin jump.

Heart racing, he turns to look at him, and then pushes forward his own drink. “You can have mine, I don’t feel like drinking tonight.”

“Could have said so,” Arthur raises an eyebrow at him as he speaks.

“But you were being so sweet for once,” Merlin smiles back at him.

"You speak as if you don't appreciate my son," Uther says, his tone too casual.

"Uh," Merlin looks between the two of them. He might have forgotten for a second that Uther was right there, and probably wouldn't like to hear him bully Arthur. "I never said that. I appreciate him. I appreciate him a lot."

"Do you now, Merlin?" Arthur asks, but his tone is smug, and he's grinning at him. "Couldn't have guessed."

"That's because you..." right there, Uther is right there, "...don't need to guess at all. I wouldn't be here if I didn't."

Arthur's smile gets impossibly wider, and he comes closer, moving an arm around Merlin's waist and pulling him to his side. Merlin really wishes Arthur would avoid smiling at him like that in such close proximity if he doesn't want to get kissed.

"What do you do for a living, boy?" Uther asks. He looks closed off, eyes falling to the hand Arthur has on Merlin's hip with a carefully blank face. Arthur must read it better than Merlin's does, because he tenses a little against him, but doesn't pull back.

"I'm a programmer."

"I see."

Uther stares at them in silence after that.

"And... you're..."

"Retired. If you’ll excuse me," Uther gives them a nod and moves back to Catrina and Agravaine, who are chatting on the individual sofas.

"Thank god," Merlin sighs, slumping against Arthur. "You didn't warn me about this. You better believe I appreciate you for putting up with your weird, weird family."

"You already knew we were weird," Arthur says, tone clearly amused, and he leads them to the other couches by the fireplace, where Gwen and Morgana are already sitting together.

"Didn't know how weird it really is, even with Gwaine's theory on your father and-"

"Don't you dare," Arthur points a finger at his face.

“This actually explains a lot about you,” Merlin says as he lands on the free couch, throwing his legs over Arthur’s lap. Arthur is surprisingly accommodating to it. Usually he throws his legs off to the floor, but now he just sighs loudly, a hand resting over his knee. It’s… too nice for it to be a good idea.

“Do I want to hear whatever nonsense you’re thinking?”

"Probably not," Merlin grins, "but here it goes anyway-"

Arthur leans over the couch to push a hand against his mouth, making Merlin laugh as he tries to shift away, his own hands on Arthur's face as he tries to shove him off.

"That's just classy," Morgana comments from her spot.

"I think it's sweet," Gwen says.

Arthur finally lets go of his face, grinning as he sinks back into the couch. “And let that be a lesson to you.”

Merlin can still feel the uncomfortable lingering touch of Arthur’s fingers pressing on his cheek and nose, and his hair is probably a mess again, but he looks at Arthur smug and pleased and smiling, and Merlin’s chest feels full, bursting at the seams with all the love he has for this man.

“Clotpole,” Merlin puffs out, giving Arthur a soft shove with his foot.

The advantage of the large living room is that it makes it easy for them to split into groups as they wait for midnight. It helps, it’s easier to pretend the four of them are on their own, almost like any other outing, except Merlin has a leg hooked over Arthur’s, their sides pressed together, and Arthur takes one of his hands, playing with it in his lap. Merlin has never done Christmas before, but this might be the best one yet.

At some point Merlin opens his eye to realize he has been dozing off to Arthur's shoulder,  face tilt so his nose nuzzles at his neck, body curled towards him. Arthur’s hand stills on his hair.

"Merlin," Arthur speaks, not for the first time.

"Yes, hi," Merlin sits up, a hand rubbing at his eye, dragging it down his face to wake himself up. "Sorry."

"It's almost midnight," Arthur tells him, dropping his hand from his hair.

"Already?" Merlin looks at him, and then at the other couch where Gwen and Morgana are snuggled up to. "Why didn't you wake me up?"

Arthur shrugs. "There was no need."

"And you two were adorable," Morgana says, her smile too pleased. "Everyone agrees."

"Everyone?" Merlin asks, with a bad feeling. Nothing good happens when Morgana smiles like that.

"She did share it with the group," Gwen says, giving Morgana a stern look. "I told her not to."

“Shouldn’t you be charitable during Christmas time?” Merlin asks, pulling out his phone and scrolling up the group chat up until he finds a picture. He opens the photo, and takes a moment to stare at it.

Merlin is sleeping curled into Arthur’s side, leg over him, almost in his lap. His face is hidden from view, tucked into Arthur’s shoulder, but Arthur’s is not. He’s looking down at Merlin with a smile, a hand at the back of his head, the other still wrapped around Merlin’s, and he looks, he looks— 

“So, wasn’t I charitable?” Morgana asks knowingly.

Merlin would almost agree, if it wasn’t for the torrent of messages following said picture, going from Elyan calling it a Christmas miracle to Gwaine asking when’s the wedding. Merlin doesn’t know how to reply without making it worse, so he switches groups to my gal my pal and me:

Arthur shifts to feel his own phone and then frowns, when he doesn’t feel it vibrate, shoving a little at Merlin. “Are the three of you in your exclusive chat right now? Stop that.”

“You said you weren’t jealous,” Merlin says as he puts the phone away. He can feel it vibrate, and Gwen is still looking at her phone, so he’s probably getting the rest of those pictures.

“It’s bad manners to text in company, Merlin.” Arthur says snottily, and nudges him again.

Merlin nudges back, and Arthur does the same again. He’s clearly intent on pushing Merlin down on the couch, but he’s interrupted but the arrival of the rest of his family.

“It’s time for the presents! Uther, darling, will you play Santa for us?” Catrina asks, taking him to the tree, where the presents lie underneath.

Merlin hasn’t interacted with Uther much over the years since he has met him, but he knows enough to understand that Uther in good humour letting his wife put on a Santa hat on his head and moving to grab one of the presents is, at the very least, unexpected.

“What is happening,” Arthur says with some confusion as he’s handed a small wrapped present.

“From Santa,” Uther says, tonelessly.

Morgana laughs, phone held up as she records the moment for prosperity. She puts it down when Uther turns to her with one of her gifts, and soon they're all sitting by the fireplace, opening gifts together. 

Merlin has one giftwrapped from Arthur, another from Morgana, and Gwen's clearly wrapped at home. Surprisingly he has received a small box from Uther. He opens that one first, to reveal a stapler. It's black, sleek and looks fancier than he's used to for an office supply. He can’t remember the last time he needed a stapler, or even if he has one at home. Still, he smiles at Uther and Catrina in thanks. 

Morgana got him a new sleeve for his laptop, for which he's incredibly grateful, and Gwen a new rubber duck for his collection, with draconic scales and wings. Arthur got him a pair of dark blue gloves and a matching scarf.

"So you can stop stealing mine," Arthur says when he smiles at him.

Merlin laughs. "Go on, open what I got for you, then."

And then Arthur is laughing as well, as he finishes unwrapping a red scarf. He's still laughing as he hooks an arm over Merlin's shoulder and pulls him into a side hug. Merlin grins against Arthur's jaw, hand on his firm chest, feeling the laugh build up under his touch, and wishes this could drag on forever.

Merlin doesn’t fully recover from the nap he took on Arthur’s shoulder, and sleepiness keeps hanging on his shoulder like a comfortable blanket trying to lull him to slumber, but it still feels it’s too early when they return to Arthur’s room. The lone bed is still at the center of the room, taunting him, and Merlin didn’t really have the time to process it yet.

“I’m going to take a shower,” he says, as he puts down his presents by his bag.

“Be quick about it,” Arthur says, as he shifts to stretch his arms over his head, “I want the lights off in five minutes.”

Merlin gets to enjoy the view from the back as he moves to the bathroom, holding the clothes to his chest as he appreciates the clear strength of Arthur’s arms, the shift of his shoulder blades, the line of his back down the rising sweater. Merlin closes the bathroom door behind his back, drops the pyjamas on the closed toilet lid and pulls his phone out of his pocket, quickly opening the group chat to bother the girls, because he needs to say it to someone and it’s certainly not going to be Arthur.

He drops the phone over the pyjamas so he can undress, and is chuckling as he hears it vibrate. He gives himself the time to get naked before giving the chat a last look.

With that he drops the phone over his used clothes and jumps into the shower, snickering to himself over his own comeback. The shower has fantastic water pressure, the perfect solution for his stress, and Merlin stands underneath the hard spray, letting it hammer hot water against his shoulders and back for a while. Who cares that he still hasn’t been introduced to Arthur’s uncle when he can breathe slowly into the hot steam? Maybe Arthur will already be asleep by the time he’s done, and the one bed stress will be done. Maybe Merlin can stay under the shower until Uther kicks him out over the outrageous water bill.

He’s warm, pinkskinned and loose when he comes out of the shower and gets dressed, relaxed as he opens the door, clutching his used clothes to his chest, his phone in between. Arthur is not asleep, he’s inside the covers already, resting against the headboard, and he raises an eyebrow as he sees Merlin come in.

“That took a while.”

“Counting the minutes until I got back, were you?” Merlin asks, dropping the clothes on the floor by his bag. He puts the phone down by the side table on his side of the bed, and slides under the sheets.

“Oh, I don’t know,” Arthur says, turning to lie sideways facing him, a too-pleased grin on his face. “I’m not the one in the group chat talking about my ass.”

Merlin freezes, halfway through the motions of laying his head on the pillow. “What.”

“You know,” Arthur turns around to reach for his own phone, smirking widely as he grabs it, “right now, when you-”

Merlin lunges across the bed to grab Arthur’s phone, leaning over his chest. “That wasn’t for you!” he lets out, heart on his throat.

Arthur is laughing as he holds his phone out of range, hand on Merlin’s shoulder to push him away. “Oh really? Is this what you go on about in your secret chat with my sister and Guinevere?”

Merlin’s face is burning as his fingers graze against Arthur’s phone. “That- Who said that was about you?”

He’s shoved into the pillow, Arthur leaning over him, forearm on Merlin’s chest holding him down. “It wasn’t? Morgana said otherwise.”

“Morgana’s a witch,” Merlin replies, hand coming up to press his palm on Arthur’s chin, trying to shove him away. His heart is hammering so hard in his chest Arthur is probably feeling it against his arm, and that’s somehow even worse than him seeing the messages Merlin sent to the wrong chat. 

“Won’t argue with that,” Arthur is still grinning, even as he’s forced to tilt his head up towards the ceiling. “But really, Merlin, if you really do enjoy my-”

Merlin slides the pillow from under his own head and shoves it at Arthur’s face. “I just called you an ass, you prat!”

Arthur laughs as he drops on his back beside Merlin, pulling the pillow away and pressing it over Merlin’s face. “You called me an ass, but what-”

“I can never live this down,” Merlin groans, the sound muffled by the pillow he keeps pressed against his own face. Maybe he can just smother himself like this and be spared of this embarrassment. 

“No, you cannot,” Arthur agrees, his voice still far too pleased as he shifts beside him. “This was a fantastic Christmas present, much better than the scarf.”

Under the pillow Merlin becomes aware that Arthur’s turned off the lights, and with that small mercy Merlin moves the pillow back to under his head. “Next time I’ll save the money,” Merlin mutters, turning to his own phone with some dread. He unlocks it and stares at the group chat open on screen, Camelot’s Finest + Will Again.

Why is Freya out for blood? Merlin shuts down the phone, curls up with his back turned to Arthur, as he tries not to regret every choice he’s made in life that has led him to this moment.

He can feel Arthur’s gaze on his back, and he waits in silence, trying to at the very least stop blushing. Then Arthur sighs loudly, having come to a decision, and turns to lie on his back. “My extra Christmas gift to you, then, I’ll let this go while we’re here, how about that?”

Merlin moves just enough to look over his shoulder, raising an eyebrow at him. 

“What?”

“That’s awfully nice of you. Are you feeling alright?”

Arthur frowns. “You know, you should learn to appreciate when I do something for you.”

“But it’s so rare, how am i supposed to get used to it?” Merlin replies.

Arthur shoves the covers over Merlin's head. “Go to sleep and stop complaining, before I change my mind.”

Merlin’s smiling, both relieved and somewhat disappointed that his lapse hasn’t really changed anything between them. He shifts under the covers, closes his eyes and snuggles slightly into the pillow. “Shutting up. Goodnight, Arthur.”

“Goodnight, Merlin.”

Merlin wakes up on the following morning from the light pouring into the room, spilled between the badly closed curtains, but he stays awake from the warm weight of Arthur's arm on his chest, the blonde hair tickling at his temple, the soft snores against his ear. Arthur is pressed against his side, with a leg thrown over both of Merlin's, holding his knees still. He doesn't think he's allowed to move without waking Arthur up, and he's not sure he wants to move at all. He's warm and cozy and sleepy, and this is a unique situation that probably won't get a do over. 

His eyes close all by themselves, his face turning to press his nose on the crown of Arthur’s head and he tries to shift slightly sideways, so his back can stop complaining over the position.

Arthur hums against him, pressing his face against Merlin’s shoulder for a moment. “Sorry,” his voice smoothed over by sleep, slurring a little, “this okay?”

This is okay enough that maybe they could plan on doing it every day for the rest of their lives. Merlin drags a hand to pat Arthur awkwardly on the shoulder before he drops it off. “Time?” he asks.

“Doesn’t matter, shut it, Merlin,” Arthur slurs against his shoulder.

Next time Merlin wakes up to Arthur flinching against him, and someone knocking hard on the door.

"Whasit?" Arthur props himself up on an elbow turning his face to the door. 

Merlin doesn't open his eyes fully, just enough to see the pillow marks on Arthur's cheek, the hair bent at odd angles, just enough to make him smile. He could wake up to this more often.

"Come on," Morgana says from the other side of the door , "Gwen is making pancakes and you are not allowed to skip it."

"Wouldn't dream of it," Arthur falls back onto Merlin, knocking the air out of his lungs. "Why is my sister so awful, what did I do to deserve this?"

Merlin puffs out so Arthur's hair is no longer in his mouth. "Always thought you were very well suited as siblings."

"You're a terrible boyfriend," Arthur complains, turning away to lie on his back.

"This was your choice," Merlin says. He's cold in the areas Arthur had been pressed against, and it's enough to wake him up properly.

"You said yes," Arthur replies, pulling the covers further up.

“To my constant regret,” Merlin answers with a yawn. He sits up, stretching to the pleasant feeling of his back cracking into place. 

“Leave then, Merlin,” Arthur says, barely hearable under the covers.

Merlin looks at the Arthur-shaped lump under the covers. “And who do you think your father would be trying to set you up with if I wasn’t here?”

“God, don’t remind me,” Arthur slurs off, falling asleep again. 

Merlin leans closer, grabbing the covers over Arthur and pulls them off. “Up and at them!”

“Merlin!” Arthur complains, trying to reach for the covers again. “Didn’t I tell you to leave?”

“Come on, lazy daisy, let’s go eat some pancakes!”

Sleepy Arthur is a delight Merlin doesn’t get to see often, but here he is in his full glory, eyes practically closed, warm and soft at the edges as he lets Merlin wrap him in a robe and lead him downstairs to the kitchen, his weight warm against Merlin’s side.

Merlin sits him down by the kitchen counter by weigthing his hands on Arthur’s shoulders, and he has to fight the urge to press a kiss to the top of his head as Arthur slumps down against the wall. “You’re a baby,” he says instead, but his voice comes out more fond than teasing.

Arthur’s cheek reddens under his gaze, and he turns his face away. “Get me those pancakes.”

“Morning, morning,” Merlin says, going to Gwen’s side by the stove. He puts a hand on her shoulder and kisses her cheek, humming as he gets the chance to look at the growing pile of pancakes next to them. “Need anything?”

"Everything's done already," Gwen says with a smile. "Morgana will be in a moment, just sit down."

"You sure? I could make some coffee."

"Why aren't you as helpful when I'm the one asking?" Arthur asks, starting to wake up under the smell of food.

"Because you don't ask, you order."

"You enjoy it," Arthur replies, rubbing the heel of his palm against an eye.

"I really didn't need to know that," Morgana says as she comes into the room. "Do sit down, Merlin, I don't trust you in this kitchen."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Merlin asks, even as he sits next to Arthur. “I know how to cook.”

“The food turns out alright, but you, on the other hand…” Morgana trails off with a tilt of her head. She’s moving around the kitchen with familiarity, pulling plates and glasses from cupboards that Merlin would have wasted hours to search for.

“Why are you Pendragons so mean to me,” Merlin complains, elbows on the table and resting his head on his hands, “I could be at home forcing Will to watch Sound of Music with me, you know.”

“I keep telling you to leave,” Arthur says, bumping his shoulder on Merlin's. “You don’t get to complain.”

Morgana puts down the silverware on the table and sits down across from them. “Arthur, get the honey.”

“You do it.”

“I got the plates,” Morgana replies, “do your part.”

“Merlin can get it for me,” Arthur says.

“You’re an ass,” Merlin says, and regrets his choice of words as soon as he says it. Morgana gives him a look right away, but he speaks again before anyone else can. “I don’t even know where it is.”

Arthur groans as he gets up. He drags himself across the kitchen to open a cupboard and returns to the table, pressing down the bottle in front of Morgana. “There, are you happy?”

“Immensely.”

Merlin freezes, as instead of returning to his seat, Arthur slumps over his back, head resting against Merlin's shoulder. “Didn’t I say you were useless, Merlin?”

Merlin can’t meet Morgana’s eyes, humming in agreement as he lifts a hand to give Arthur’s arm a pat. This is. This is okay. Gwen puts down the plate of pancakes on the table, looks at Arthur and then at Merlin, raising her eyebrows at him in silence. This is very much okay. 

Arthur slides back into his seat, and sleep seems to fade away from him, every bite from breakfast taking him a step away from the gentleness the night had laid on him. By the time they’re done, as Merlin helps put everything away, Arthur is bickering with his sister, sitting straighter on his chair.

“I’m going to get dressed,” Merlin says, drying his hands when he’s done. “I don’t fancy running into your father in my pyjamas.”

“He knows what pyjamas are, Merlin,” Morgana says, breaking her argument with Arthur.

“He already judges me enough as it is,” Merlin puts down the towel. He drags his hands on his pyjama trousers. 

“You have a point there,” Arthur says, getting up. “He told me I should aim higher.”

Morgana lets out a startled laugh. “Did he really?”

Arthur throws an arm over Merlin’s shoulder. “Don’t worry, Merlin, he’d say the same of anyone who wasn’t suggested by him.”

“Your father is a nightmare at setting you up,” Merlin replies, letting Arthur lead them back to the room.

“Jealous?”

“You wish.” Merlin answers without missing a beat, but he’s thinking of the disapproving way Uther had looked at him the previous night and the way Arthur had felt it. He considers bringing it up, but he really doesn’t want to bring that rigidness to Arthur, not when he’s in such a good mood.

Breakfast had been the truly easy part. Even the awkward dinner had turned out to be an easy part, because when they return to the living room is to see Catrina hanging some mistletoe over the door frame. 

“Good day,” she says with a large smile, “will any of you do me the favour of bringing in my husband?”

Morgana just turns around quietly and leaves. Gwen looks at her go, then at the two of them again. “...I’ll go with her.”

“I don’t think she’s going to call my father,” Arthur tells her.

Gwen snorts at that, and rushes after her girlfriend.

“Oh, boys, nevermind,” Catrina says, apparently not having heard them. She’s looking inside the room. “Here he is! Uther, my heart, come to me.”

“Oh no,” Arthur grabs Merlin’s wrist and drags him down the hall. Merlin’s laughing as Arthur takes him around the hall to reach the living room through a different door, and barely can contain it when he realizes when they arrived too soon, just in time to see Catrina and Uther snogging by the door frame. “What have I done to deserve this?” Arthur complains, taking him down to one of the sofas, face turned away from the couple.

“Do you want me to make a list?” Merlin asks.

Morgana and Gwen come through the same door as they had, but they’re lucky enough to do so when Uther steps away from the door, even if he looks too smitten for anyone’s taste. Their luck runs out, because as that happens Catrina calls out “Agravaine! Come here, dear!”

It’s with horror as they see her laughing as she pulls Arthur’s uncle for a quick kiss, patting his cheek before moving to Uther’s side again, who looks good humoured about the whole thing.

“Do they… do they realize we’re here?” Morgana asks, her voice stricken with horror.

Gwen has a hand over her mouth, and Arthur the most disgusted look he’s ever seen on his face. Merlin is doing his utmost not to laugh, but he can’t resist going to the group chat.

“Merlin, would you please stop looking so pleased,” Arthur nudges at him with a knee.

“No,” Merlin says, “Remember? When you showed us the pictures and Gwaine said-”

“It’s not true,” Arthur cuts him off, and grabs his arm, lowering it as he hisses “would you stop that? I can’t believe you’re trying to take a picture of this.”

“They’ve stopped already,” Merlin says, dropping off into the couch. “It’s safe to look.”

Arthur turns to look at the rest of the room. Agravaine is sitting with Catrina and Uther on one of the sofas, but he still makes a face. He shoves Merlin away from his side and gets up. “Alright, I’m getting a glass of water. Do any of you need anything from the kitchen?”

“No, no, go on,” Morgana says.

Arthur gets up, and Merlin barely waits for him to give a step before he leans to whisper to the girls. “I can’t believe Gwaine was right-”

“Merlin, this stopped being funny when they got under the mistletoe,” Morgana says.

“I don’t know,” Gwen’s smiling now, “I think it’s pretty funny that Gwaine could tell from a picture that your father, hmm…”

“You know what, Merlin,” Morgana raises her voice a little, as she lifts her chin. “I’ve changed my mind, could you go ask Arthur to get me some tea?”

“Why don’t you go?” Merlin asks.

“So you and Gwen can gossip about the imaginary threesome Gwaine invented between my father, his wife and Arthur’s uncle? I’d rather not.”

Merlin and Gwen share a look, she manages to hide a giggle behind a hand, but Merlin’s chuckling openly as he gets up.

“Go on, then, shoo!”

“Alright, alright.”

He makes his way across the living room with no problem, but runs into Arthur as he returns from the kitchen, glass of water in hand. “What are you doing?” Arthur asks as he steps into the room.

“Morgana asked-”

"Oh, would you look at that," Morgana's voice rings across the room, making the others turn to them as well.

“Oh!” Catrina smiles from where she sits between Uther and Agravaine. “Look up, boys!”

Right. Merlin glances up at the mistletoe that proved the very real and existing polyamourous relationship in Arthur’s family, and then back at Arthur, who is just as still as he is. The thing, the thing is. Merlin hasn’t kissed anyone in years, first from a lack of interest, and then from an interest focused on one person only. Said person is standing right in front of him under the mistletoe holding a glass of water, eyes dropping from Merlin’s to... To his mouth, he thinks, and Merlin steps a little closer.

“Are you sure?” Arthur asks in a low tone of voice, watching him approach.

It’s not like Merlin particularly wants to kiss just to pretend, just because they’re under a stupid plant in front of his family, but is he ever getting another chance? He nods at Arthur, carefully placing a hand on his shoulder, leaning in so the tip of his nose brushes Arthur’s.

Arthur's the one who moves in the rest of the way, tilting his head to the side so his lips brush against Merlin's, light, a breath puffing against his lips. Merlin surges in, surprised at the softness of Arthur's lips, at the hand that now rests on his hip, carefully holding him close. Arthur leans away first too, leaving just enough space to breathe, just so Merlin can nuzzle in slightly, melting into the drag of his bottom lip against Arthur's. Arthur kisses it, and then his upper lip, and the corner of Merlin's mouth, and it's been so long since Merlin has felt such a swelling need to press close to someone, he can’t help but to lean into it.

Merlin kisses him again, hand cupping Arthur's cheek, letting his mouth part on Arthur's, his tongue touch lightly on his lips so he can feel Arthur's shuddered breath on his mouth. Arthur’s jaw slacks under his touch, opening for him, and Merlin’s about to press closer when he hears a throat clearing loudly.

He pulls back, their mouths making a wet sound as they unpart, and Merlin can feel the warmth filling him from the kiss moving up his torso to his cheeks, burning his face into a blush as he recalls that they’re not alone, and most of all, that it’s not real. It's not real and they've just been called to stop by Uther Pendragon.

“I… I’m getting Morgana some tea,” Merlin lets out, and moves past Arthur out of the room.

Merlin’s still short of breath when he steps into the kitchen. He plances a hand on the counter, another covering up his mouth as he tries to get his heart to slow down to a normal pace. He manages a deep breath, before Arthur rushes into the kitchen after him.

“Merlin,” Arthur says with a frown, hand reaching out and then retreating, keeping his distance. 

“Yeah, sorry,” Merlin moves to the kettle, taking it to the sink and filling it with water, anything to not look at Arthur for a moment. 

“You don’t have to apologise,” Arthur says.

Merlin manages to glance at him as he turns on the kettle. Arthur’s cheeks are delightfully pink, his lips… his lips redder than he has ever seen them, and Merlin has to look away again before he kisses him again. “Where’s the tea? And the teacups?”

“I’ll get it,” Arthur says, moving a little further away to collect them.

Merlin manages a deep breath. He needs to speak before he lets this ruin things between them. “I’m sorry I went so far, I know you didn’t sign up for this when you asked me to pretend to date you, I just…” —he should have probably figured out an excused before he started giving one— “...well…”

“Merlin,” Arthur stops him, his voice serious in a way he hasn’t heard since Arthur asked him to do this. “What on earth are you talking about?”

Merlin turns to him, eyes on Arthur’s shoulder so he doesn’t have to meet his eyes. “We didn’t set any parameters of what we were willing to do, which we probably should have done, you were very vague on the details of this whole fake dating stunt. Not that I’m blaming you for it, don’t get me wrong,” he’s quick to add, at Arthur’s affronted look, “but this probably was over the line, right? I mean, you weren’t counting on me—”

“Merlin,” Arthur interrupts him again, frowning at him. “Did you— you were pretending?”

“What do you mean?” Merlin finally meets his eyes, heart clenching at the apprehension he can read on Arthur’s face. “That’s what you asked.”

“No,” Arthur says slowly, hands at his side closing tightly. “I asked you to come over as my date for Christmas.”

“Yeah,” Merlin says, “because your father tries to set you up with someone every year.”

“That’s— I said that as a joke!” Arthur lets out. “I asked you to come, you asked why would you do that, and I said—”

“You asked if I’d like to meet whoever else your father had set up for you—”

“I thought you were jealous of them, from the stories you make up about them, I was trying to—”

“I don’t make up stories—”

“So Elena was really swapped by a fairy as a baby?” Arthur asks. “Look, that doesn’t matter, the point is, I didn’t ask you to pretend to date me, Merlin, I asked…”

Merlin’s heart is still in his chest, his lungs filled with air that for a moment he can’t release. “You asked for real?”

“Who asks people to pretend to date them, that’s ridiculous, Merlin!”

“You’re ridiculous!” Merlin replies without thinking. “If you thought it was real then why didn’t you kiss me?”

Arthur’s blush is back on his face, red and splotchy and lovely. “You’re grey ace,” he says, somewhat awkwardly, “I thought it was better if you set the pace. I figured if you wanted to kiss me you knew you could.”

“Oh,” Merlin says, heart back to beating too loudly in his chest. He supposes that’s it’s regular pace around Arthur, but it doesn’t help, not when he feels so devastated from such a ill-planned, lovely sentiment. “You could have asked.”

“What?” Arthur asks, still looking lost.

Merlin leans off the counter and steps closer. “You could have just asked if I wanted to kiss you.”

“Do you?” Arthur asks.

“Thought that was obvious after the mistletoe, clotpole.” Merlin says. He moves into Arthur’s space.

“That’s not a real word,” Arthur says, an old argument, but his hands are reaching for Merlin.  Merlin is reaching back just as fast, one on Arthur’s jaw, the other on his chest, moving in as Arthur’s hands pull him close by his waist, and they barely get time to look at each other before they’re kissing again.

Arthur seems to waste no time this time around, licking into Merlin’s mouth and pressing him against the counter. They’re locked together from mouths, to chest, to hips for a kiss that needs no end, up until Arthur pulls back to look at Merlin properly. “This okay?” he asks, and Merlin is brought back to all the times Arthur has asked the same over this stay, and Merlin loves.

“More than okay,” Merlin says, and has to kiss the smile Arthur gifts him.