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Merlin can barely look at Lancelot.
“How long?” He asks, and it’s a question he doesn’t want to know the answer to, but he needs to hear it. If he doesn’t hear it, it will never feel real. It will never sink in, if he doesn’t hear this answer from Lancelot’s lips.
“Only once. Only once, and we both regret it. I’m so sorry. You must believe I never wanted to hurt you.”
Merlin grits his teeth. He knows that Lancelot is earnest. Lancelot is always earnest, always means it when he says things like “I didn’t want anyone to get hurt.”
But none of that matters. Merlin is hurt. Merlin is beyond hurt. Merlin is seething, and crumbling, and destroyed all at once.
“Gwen, of all people. She’s one of my closest friends.”
She’s kind. She’s smart. She’s a woman.
“She feels terrible. We do regret it, Merlin. I’m sorry.” He puts a hand on Merlin’s shoulder, and Merlin cringes away from it, can’t even look at the man, can’t stand to be touched by the same hands that touched her like he didn’t matter.
“It’s a bit late for apologies and regret.” He spits the words. He doesn’t mean for them to be harsh, but he’s glad they are. He’s glad that Lancelot might feel even a fraction of the hurt that he feels in that moment, being confronted with a truth he never imagined.
Lancelot was supposed to be his one, his person, his forever. But instead, Lancelot had taken his heart and crushed it by taking his best friend to bed.
And Lancelot looks so remorseful. Merlin wants to believe him, that it was a mistake, that it will never happen again, that it doesn’t mean anything.
But it does. It does. It does.
Merlin wants to strangle Lancelot. Wants to hit him, kick him, punch him. Anything that will make Lancelot hurt like he does.
Instead, he pulls the ring off his finger and drops it on the ground.
Lancelot tries to come after him, but Merlin takes the keys to his car and doesn’t look back.
It over. He doesn’t want to talk about it. It’s over.
—-
Arthur and Gwaine bring him his stuff over the course of the next several days. He doesn’t ask how they know it’s his. Lancelot must be packing it, because all of his clothes are folded in that careful way Lancelot learned from a little blue and green Marie Kondo book he’d bought at a used books store right after they’d moved into the house.
Merlin doesn’t unpack his clothes. Subsists on what he’s got, and doing laundry almost constantly. Gwaine, wonderful, kind Gwaine, lets him stay at his flat while Merlin looks for a new one. Merlin knows Lancelot won’t be able to afford the rent to the house on his own, but he can’t care. Not right now. Maybe once the ache’s not so fresh, he’ll care, but he doesn’t care right now.
“Merlin,” Gwaine sits down next to him where his feet are pulled up on the couch and his arms are wrapped around his knees. He puts a heavy hand on one knee and makes Merlin look up at him. “It’s been a whole week. I’m fine letting you sleep on my couch and mope between shifts, but do you want to talk about it?”
Merlin looks at his friend, his dear friend who had earned Merlin’s trust over years and years of proving himself worthy, and he feels a pang of something in his chest, fear that his trust might be misplaced, like it was in Lancelot.
His eyes prickle and he tries to keep his mouth still even as the tears well up. “I can’t- I trusted him.” A tear falls down and Gwaine sighs, pulls Merlin in against his chest and lets Merlin sob. Every other time he’d cried he’d done it in the safety of the night, as silently as possible, because he didn’t want to admit to himself that it was over.
But it was over. It was over, and there was no going back. He’d never be able to trust Lancelot again, not after this.
“It’s alright. I’m right here. We’re all here for you. Poor Mordred’s brought a half dozen silly little gifts by, but I told him you weren’t up to company. Maybe you should see him tomorrow.”
Merlin nods his head, sobs going dormant, but the tears still flowing. The soothing way Gwaine rubs his back and strokes his hair reminds him far too much of the way Lancelot had held him after his dad died, but he pushed the thought aside. Lancelot was gone. In the past. He couldn’t think of him, not now. Maybe one day he’d be healed and stable enough to call Lancelot a friend again, but he didn’t even want to think about him now.
Gwaine held him until Merlin’s tears dried, and when he pulled away, he settled Merlin against his chest and they watched the Princess Bride. And every time Wesley made him think of Lancelot, he substituted Gwaine. Gwaine was his good friend, and a better man than Lancelot, as Lancelot had shown him.
—
Time passed. Gwaine and Merlin hooked up once while drunk and it just turned into a relationship. They were roommates, and then partners, transitioning smoothly between.
Gatherings were hard. Lancelot (and Gwen) had hurt him, but they were still their friends. They couldn’t be entirely shut out just for Merlin’s sake. (As Merlin had continuously insisted.)
And as things between him and Gwaine developed, slowly, something developed between Gwen and Lancelot. And as much as it pained him to see it, he was happy for them, when he wasn’t feeling sorry for himself. He loved Lancelot. He would probably always love Lancelot, but he still wanted him to be happy.
“You were good today.” Gwaine comments that night, as they’re getting ready for bed.
Merlin smiles at him over his shoulder, a combination of amused and confused. “What do you mean?”
“Didn’t mean mug Lancelot, even once. Smiled at Gwen. Some might say that’s progress.”
Merlin smiled, despite himself. “I’m trying to be kind. Mistakes or not, they are my friends.”
Gwaine smiled in that way that meant Merlin had done something amazing, but Merlin didn’t know it. Of course, the look had started clueing Merlin in on it, but it had taken him a while to figure it out. “Most people wouldn’t bother to be kind, after that. You’re a good man.” Gwaine walked across the room and looped his arms around Merlin’s waist, laying his chin against Merlin’s shoulder.
“And a lucky one.” Merlin turned his head to kiss Gwaine and Gwaine returned it enthusiastically.
He suddenly had very little need for pajamas.
—
When Arthur and Gwen start acting weird, Merlin was the first to notice. He brings it up to Gwaine, who shrugs, and says “The Princess might’ve just had a rock in his shoe. You know how easy he is to upset.”
—
Except it keeps happening. Arthur and Gwen were constantly strange around each other, and he recognized that look she had. A shared secret. Guilt.
No. No, it wasn’t possible. Surely not.
—
“Lancelot,” Merlin said. It’s the first time they’ve been alone in almost a year. Almost a year since that confession. Almost a year since Merlin’s life fell apart. Nine months since he and Gwaine started building their own life together. “I don’t think it’s my place, but I’ll hate myself if I don’t say anything. I’d have hated for one of our friends to keep this a secret from me.”
Lancelot looks confused, but says nothing, giving Merlin space to speak, just like he always did when Merlin struggled for words.
So he took a deep breath and ripped the bandaid off. “I think Gwen is cheating on you with Arthur.”
Merlin doesn’t know what he expects. Maybe for Lancelot to burst into tears and give Merlin some late justice. Maybe for him to be angry. Maybe for him to accuse Merlin of lying just to get back at him.
But whatever he expected, the soft rueful smile was not it. “You’ve noticed them, then.” He looks at Merlin with clear eyes, not trace of sadness, anger, or regret.
“Yeah,” Merlin doesn’t know what’s happening. Did Lancelot know? Had he been letting Gwen go behind his back? That would be just like Lancelot, to tell himself he deserved such treatment after doing it himself, but that wasn’t right. It wasn’t fair-
“Gwen and Arthur are…” He took a breath and gestured for Merlin to sit on the couch. It wasn’t the one they’d bought together. After a moment collecting his thoughts, he clasped his hands together and leaned forward. “Have you ever heard of polyamory?”
—
“Gwen is dating both of them.” Merlin says, collapsed in bed and exhausted after talking through his ex’s relationship dynamics.
“Hmm? Oh yeah. I sort of figured as much. Are they out?”
The fact that Gwaine isn’t surprised shouldn’t surprise Merlin. Gwaine’s more perceptive than he lets on, but the fact he didn’t tell Merlin is…
Well, it was none of his business, was it?
“I don’t think so. Lancelot only told me so I wouldn’t accuse her of cheating on him.”
Gwaine nodded. “Well, I’m happy for her, I guess. Arthur’s a prat, but he’s always carried a torch for her.”
“Like the one you carried for me?” Merlin teased. Not long ago, Gwaine had admitted that he’d fallen in love with Merlin long before they’d ever gotten together.
“Course not. Mine’s better.” He kissed Merlin’s lips softly, then reached to turn the light off.
—
When Arthur and Gwen finally announce that they’re a couple (and that Gwen hasn’t broken up with Lancelot) Mordred is the only one surprised.
They weren’t very subtle, toward the end. It doesn’t really matter to Merlin, though. He’s just happy his friends are happy.
—
Funnily enough, Gwaine is the one who brings it up. Merlin had probably been thinking it, but it wasn’t given form until Gwaine asked about it.
They were just eating dinner. Having a normal conversation, when suddenly Gwaine asked him if, “You think you might be like Gwen?”
Gwaine’s intentions aren’t immediately clear to Merlin. There are lots of positive qualities Gwen possess that Gwaine might feasibly be talking about, so it’s just a confusing sentence for a few, stray seconds.
“I mean, able to love more than one person, at the same time? The love’s the same, they both still matter, there’s just more than one of them.”
And… isn’t that a terrible, damning question.
“Why do you ask?”
“I think I might be carrying another torch myself. For Percival.”
Oh.
Wait.
—
“This is a bad idea.” Merlin rubs his sweating palms on the fabric of his jeans. He’s dressed more casually than he might usually be, in a simple grey tee shirt and a red hoodie. Gwaine says red looks good on him, and Merlin usually believes him, but he’s having a hard time believing it now.
“No. I think you’ve wanted to do this for a long time.” Gwaine says, while tousling Merlin’s hair in that way that only he ever seems to manage.
Merlin is feeling like a bloody fool, meeting up for coffee with the man who cheated on him. Percival is already sitting on their couch, giving Merlin encouraging smiles every time he looks that way. He and Gwaine are having a date night tonight, so even if coffee goes poorly, Merlin will have to find somewhere to spend the next couple hours.
Leon and Elyan’s couch was nice, come to think of it.
“I think you and Lancelot have missed each other,” Percival said very unhelpfully from the couch, and if he wasn’t Gwaine’s boyfriend, Merlin would tell him exactly where he could shove his assumptions.
“He means well.” Gwaine murmurs, seeing the anger gathering on Merlin’s face, creasing his brow. “Just relax. Take a deep breath with me.” Gwaine modeled the behavior and Merlin unconsciously followed. Git. “That’s it. Now. You’re going to go meet Lancelot for coffee. Just coffee. There’s no obligations. You’re just two old friends catching up.”
“Just two old friends with a betrayal between them.”
Gwaine frowned. “And years of love and friendship. It’s okay to be angry with him, but you and I both know he’s more than just a heartless traitor.”
“I never said he was heartless.” Merlin grumbled.
“Case in point.” Gwaine turned Merlin to face the mirror, showing him his finished hair, gelled into place. “Perfect. Go make him remember what he’s been missing out on.” Gwaine kissed his cheek and gave him a slap on the arse in the same moment, sending Merlin some very mixed signals, but before he could ask, he was being pushed out the door.
—
“I was afraid you might not come.” Lancelot said, when Merlin walked into the cafe twenty minutes late.
“I got held up, sorry.” He smiled sheepishly and sat down with his coffee. He’d opted for one of the reusable mugs. He liked the heavy weight of them in his hand.
“You don’t take milk anymore.” Lancelot said, eyes fixed on the rim of Merlin’s coffee cup.
“Hmm?” Merlin looked down at the mug. “Oh, yeah. Gwaine got it for me once with some insane combination of syrups, and it was actually really good. The sugar cuts the bitterness enough that I prefer it without the milk.”
“You never liked the aftertaste.” Lancelot recalled, and it shocks Merlin a bit that Lancelot remembered both these things.
Of course, he’d never admit it, but he could probably recite Lancelot’s coffee order from memory, both the way he took it at home and the way he took it in a shop.
“It’s good to see you,” Lancelot said, when the silence stretched on for too long.
“Yeah. You too.”
The conversation stops again. It never used to be like this, before. They could have sat in silence for hours and just enjoyed each other’s presence. Maybe had a short chat during commercials or between bites of food. They’d never been as lost for words as he felt right then though.
“How has Gwaine been?” Lancelot asked to fill the silence, and Merlin smiled a bit to himself.
“At the minute he’s trying to convince Percival to move in. So, fairly content, I’d say.” Merlin smiled. He wasn’t going to say he wasn’t worried about the way Gwaine and Percival were progressing. Gwaine was passionate, and he moved fast, Merlin knew that. He also knew that he’d rather Gwaine date someone with his permission than go behind his back to do it, and he didn’t want Gwaine to be unhappy staying monogamous. “I’m not sure how I feel about it, to be honest. I know about it, hell, I gave them my blessing, but… sometimes it still feels like-“ He doesn’t finish it, but he doesn’t need to. Lancelot knows what he means.
“I’m sorry. I know you don’t like me to say it,” He cut Merlin off as he tried to interrupt him. “But I am. The way things happened wasn’t right. Love, polyamory, none of it is an excuse to do what I did. I’m grateful that you’ve forgiven me enough to be my friend, despite it. And I’m glad we didn’t turn you entirely off polyamory.
“Yeah,” Merlin didn’t even know what to say to that, so he took another sip of his coffee, tried to center himself around the warm weight of the mug. “For a while, I couldn’t trust anyone. I thought, ‘If Lancelot, of all people, could betray me like that, what hope do I have for anyone else?'” It feels like his mouth moves without his permission. These are things he never meant to say aloud. Never meant to share. Even Gwaine didn’t know this. “I mean, I put everything into you, into us. And it felt like I was less important than a shag. I know now, you love her, but you kept saying it wasn’t important, and it didn’t mean anything, and… and somehow that felt worse. To think you didn’t even love her, just didn’t care about me enough not to.” Merlin sighed. “I don’t see it that way anymore, but… the scar’s still there.”
“I can’t ever undo that.” Lancelot murmurs, “But I hope you’ll let me try to make it up to you.”
Merlin smiles sadly, “I think that’s about all I can take.”
Lancelot nodded, and they fell into another silence. This one didn’t feel quite so unwanted.
——
Coffee meetings become regular. They’re still a little bit awkward, stilted, nowhere near flowing the way they did over a year ago, but still. Still, it’s good. It’s nice. Even when it’s awkward. Lancelot is still charming, and occasionally devious. Sneaks sips of Merlin’s coffee because he likes it but won’t admit it. Buys the scone he saw him eyeing while Merlin’s in the toilet. Accidentally on purpose brushes their feet, hands, sides together.
And it is nice. So when Lancelot asks if he’d like to do lunch, Merlin says yes.
Lunch is a casual sort of meal. Nothing to it. It’s short, simple, not particularly fancy. They go out for Chinese at the newest place in town, and it becomes their place. They go once a week or more, just to eat lunch and talk.
And then lunch becomes dinner, and dinner doesn’t feel so awkward and Merlin remembers what it was like to fall in love with Lancelot, all those years ago.
It was strange, and it was unexpected, and it was absolutely brilliant.
——
“Gwaine,” Merlin’s voice is breathless when Gwaine answers the phone. It’s nearly 11, and he was supposed to be home almost an hour ago. Gwaine wasn’t exactly mad, it had given him and Percival a bit of time to settle him into the second bedroom that used to pretend to be an office. Of course, a breathless phone call at 11 o’clock at night was a little bit concerning. “Gwaine, I- Lancelot, stop. Gwaine, I- Remember what we talked about. Oh-“
Gwaine raised his eyebrow and sat up in bed. He was suddenly very aware of that specific register of Merlin’s voice, that he only got when things were getting heated. And by the gods, did things sound like they were getting heated. They were going at it, right there over the phone! Gwaine barked a laugh, startling Percival from his doze. The big man pouted, eyes still closed, and Gwaine ran a gentle hand over his head to try and coax him back to sleep. “That’s my man. Go get him, Merlin!”
“Oh- Fuck- You’re sure? We agreed, you had to be sure.” Merlin sounds barely coherent, and Gwaine is almost jealous he doesn’t get to make Merlin lose his focus like that, but there’s always tomorrow night…
“I’m sure. You have fun. Me and Perce are turning in for the night. Ruin him for me, Lancelot!” Gwaine says it louder than strictly necessary, and the rumbling approval is probably the man himself.
Gwaine hung up before he had to hear anything untoward. Not that he’d mind, but Merlin certainly would, and he respected his boyfriend more than that.
—
The sex is good. Tremendous. It doesn’t feel like any of the sex they had before the break up, as much as it was passionate and affectionate, this took on a whole new dimension. Merlin felt like he was memorizing Lancelot for the first time, but also like he was coming home. He’d changed his facial hair, and even how he groomed his body hair in the time they’d been apart, and every bit of it fascinated Merlin.
For his part, Lancelot was equally fascinated, and was much more prone to putting his mouth on Merlin than he usually was. Leaving open mouthed kisses on every inch of bared skin, nipping his hip bones, swallowing him down like he was starving for it. Lancelot’s hair was shorter now than it had been when they’d been together. Gripping it was different. The soft grazing of his facial hair made the inside of Merlin’s thighs light up the way Gwaine’s did, and it was heaven. It was perfect.
God how he’d missed Lancelot’s body, hands, mouth. When Lancelot was finally inside him it felt so much like coming home, so much like being whole again, Merlin couldn’t stand it. When a few tears slipped down his face, Lancelot kissed them away, whispered soft reassurances in his ear, and never stopped the claiming of his body, heart, soul.
“Lancelot,” Merlin begged, feeling how close he was, but knowing he couldn’t get there just like this.
Lancelot’s hand was fire as it stroked his cock, lighting him up and making him see stars.
When the embers had burned down, and the ashes were settled, Lancelot held him in his arms, and he smelled so familiar. How was it that Merlin even remembered the way he smelled?
—
In the end, they get a bigger apartment. Lancelot and Percival have their own bedrooms that Merlin and Gwaine bounce between, along with a room they share. More often than not, they end up sleeping in threes, instead of twos, with either Merlin or Gwaine in the middle of the bed, flanked by their two partners.
When they go to get a new mattress for Percival’s room, (He wears them out fast) they find a giant bed that… could probably fit all of them very comfortably.
And Merlin buys it on impulse.
This works much better, in Merlin’s very humble opinion. His and Gwaine room becomes sort of the shared communal bedroom, and the spare bedrooms are mostly to house clothes and to have sex in. Gwaine starts calling them “Sin Dens” and Merlin thinks they might need to downsize the apartment again.
—
Their couch is gigantic. Percival is a big man, and Merlin may not be particularly broad, but he’s still quite tall. They need the space. Especially if he and Percival are going to lay across their boyfriend’s laps simultaneously. Percival was hesitant at first, but he’d taken to it quiet readily, letting Gwaine feed him bits of popcorn occasionally.
Merlin always felt best when he was curled up between Lancelot and Gwaine. It seemed to be going to way of Percival and Gwaine being more serious that Gwaine and Merlin were, but with Lancelot there to give him extra attention, he didn’t really mind. Just having Gwaine occasionally stop his petting of Percival to give him a soft kiss to the cheek or a shoulder squeeze was enough to make him feel loved.
Especially when he was pressed directly against Lancelot’s chest, Lancelot’s arm wrapped around him and holding him close. Three years before he never thought he’d be able to have this. Now, he’s got not one partner that loves him, but two, and Percival is great, and possibly starting something new with Elyan, so good for him, and everything was perfect.
“I love you.” Merlin murmurs into Lancelot’s neck as whatever show they’re watching starts to roll credits. Merlin hasn’t really been paying attention for the last twenty minutes or so.
“And I you,” Lancelot tilts his head to kiss Merlin deeply, but before it can get too heated, Gwaine and Percival are throwing popcorn at them, telling them good-naturedly to get a room.
Yeah. Life was good.