Work Text:
Arthur felt like he’d gone through the day on autopilot. He barely remembered taking the train to and from work, and despite drinking three lattes and a RedBull he still felt his eyes burn as he dragged his exhausted body up the steps to his flat. Why had he agreed to live on the eighth floor again?
Right, he thought. Merlin. Mer lin had talked him into it because the view will be incredible, Arthur! (the view, they realized upon receiving the keys, was the parking garage), and Arthur had listened because Merlin had looked up at him with those great big puppy dog eyes.
He was always using those eyes against him. They were Arthur’s weakness, and Merlin knew it. Weaponizing them should be illegal.
That was how he’d become so exhausted in the first place. Merlin used those eyes to talk him into something he’d never say yes to otherwise. He stayed up half the night helping a cat who’d just had gallbladder surgery use the litter box— Merlin would have helped it, he said, if only he’d woken up! He sleeps like the dead, Arthur thought bitterly— and by the time he’d gotten a half hour of shut-eye it was time to get ready for work.
This was not the first time Merlin has brought home animals in need, by the way. He seemed to think the flat was his own personal veterinarian office. He’d brought home orphaned puppies, birds with damaged wings, baby bunnies minutes away from being a cat’s dinner— he even brought home stray people, on the occasion, which is how they met their good friend Lancelot.
But it didn’t matter anymore. He was home now, and he was going to go straight to bed, and Merlin would be the one left to take care of the cat while Arthur sleeps soundly on.
He pulled his keys out of his pocket and unlocked the door to his flat. It was strangely quiet— normally he could hear the telly on, or some kind of Celtic folk music playing at unholy volumes as Merlin sat on the balcony and painted. Perhaps he’d gone out?
He shrugged, too tired to really ponder it any further. He saw the gray tabby he’d spent all night with peacefully snoozing on the couch, curled up and content, and he gave it a rueful pat on the head as he approached his bedroom door.
He put his hand on the doorknob, just about to open the door, when he heard— was that mewling?
He turned around and glanced at the tabby, still asleep on the couch. Then he turned back to the door and pressed his ear against it.
It was mewling, and he heard whispering, too. It was Merlin.
“ Don’t you worry,” Arthur heard him say through the door. “ You don’t need to be frightened. I’m just glad you’re okay.”
Arthur realized he was holding his breath and let it go, then slowly and very quietly opened the door. Merlin sat with his back to Arthur and a box between his knees, cooing softly at it. “We’re going to take such good care of you—”
“Who,” Arthur asked, just as softly and dead on his feet, “is we?”
Merlin perked up and straightened immediately. “Arthur!” He whipped his head around with a bashful grin.
Arthur narrowed his eyes. “Merlin.”
“Love of my life! Light of my life!”
“ Mer lin.”
“How was work? Did you rule with a beautifully sculpted fist as usual?”
“Merlin, what the hell is that?”
Merlin’s smile drooped, just slightly, and Arthur felt his chest pang. Be strong, he chanted to himself. Be strong. Be strong.
“Come look,” his boyfriend said. “Very slowly! Poor baby is afraid of just about everything.”
Arthur sighed, bringing his fingers up to punch the bridge of his nose for a moment before quietly moving forward. He stood over Merlin, peering inside the box.
It was a kitten, barely the size of his hand. She was shaking like a leaf in the very corner, looking up at him with great big blue eyes, and Arthur closed his own.
“Merlin, what is it doing here?”
Merlin smiled up at him brightly. “She needed somewhere to stay. Look at her, Arthur. She has nowhere to go. I found her stuck in my tire when I was leaving the studio today— thank the gods her fur caught my eye before I got in the car! It took a while to get her to trust me enough to pull her out.”
Arthur crouched next to Merlin and curled his fingers gently around the box, so the kitten could get used to his scent without scaring her. “Okay. Why isn’t it at the vet?”
Merlin frowned. “She’s terrified, Arthur. She would be so distressed if we brought her there before gaining her trust first. And I figure, we already have Killie and all his supplies here, so—”
“Killie?”
“Our cat, short for Kilgharrah— I just named him this afternoon, do you like it? Anyways, we can give her some of his food and—”
“You can’t name them, Merlin, you’ll get too attached. We can’t keep them.”
Merlin stopped talking. He stared at Arthur’s face, realized he was serious, and frowned. “What?”
Arthur sighed heavily and placed a hand on his shoulder. He squeezed. “You can’t keep bringing home god-knows-what every day. How will we take care of them all? One day you’re going to bring home a raccoon with rabies and we’ll—”
“I would never bring home a racoon during the day—”
“ — all get sick and it’s just a bad idea, Merlin.”
Arthur looked away from Merlin’s face, into the kitten’s frightened eyes, and then down at the floor. Nowhere was safe. All of the eyes, goddamnit.
“But Arthur,” Merlin protested. He could hear the pouting in his voice. “Just for one night?”
“We should really take it to the vets before they close.” When he was met with silence, he looked to his left, and…
There it was. The look. “Merlin, don’t do that.”
Merlin drew his eyebrows together and pushed his lips out slightly, full-pout. When he realized that Arthur was not conceding, he looked sadly at the kitten in its box. He weakly reached a hand out to pet her.
Don’t give in, Arthur. This has to stop. I repeat, do not give in.
Arthur looked at Merlin’s face, trying to catch his eye, but Merlin would no longer look at him. He looked at the kitten, at the side of the bed, to his artwork on the walls, but not at Arthur.
Who knew that would be worse?
Dear God, he thought, then said, “Merlin.”
Merlin turned to him slowly, a more petulant pout on his face. “What?” he grumbled.
Arthur sighed, long-suffering, then framed his boyfriend’s face with both hands and pecked him on the lips. He pressed his lips to his again, and again, until the pout softened, until he was being kissed back. Just as Merlin put a hand to his hair Arthur pulled away.
“You’re staying up with them this time.”
Merlin’s eyes sparkled, and the grin he gave him was blinding. “You’re the best!” he yelled, before launching himself at Arthur, tackling him to the floor in a hug. The kitten jumped.
“Sorry,” they each whispered to her. Merlin turned his face back to Arthur’s. “You won’t regret this, Arthur.”
He replied with a sarcastic comment about already regretting it, but the truth was, Arthur would survive on a half hour of rest every night if he could see that smile again.
Merlin seemed to know what he was really saying anyways, in that strange way he always did, and leaned in with a smile, pressing his lips to his.