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“If you’re not a couple, why did you sign my birthday card as Merlin and Arthur?”
Merlin stirred his spoon in his soup. “I don’t know. It’s more convenient?” He watched Gwaine do the same with his own soup. It was a tad congealed, Arthur had distracted him by asking his opinion on shirts. “You’re reading too much into it.”
“Huh,” Gwaine said, “here’s a funny story. I know a guy who’s been in love with his roommate for the last five years. I mean, he practically gets him dressed-“
“Shut up,” Merlin interjected. “Just… shut up.”
Raising his arms in mock surrender, Gwaine rolled his eyes. “One of these days, Arthur is going to kiss you and you’re going to convince yourself he’s doing it platonically.”
“What’s platonic?”
Merlin watched Arthur stumble into their kitchen with his tie knotted wrong, and smiled to himself. “Nothing.”
At the same time, Gwaine said jokingly, “Me and Merlin.”
“Glad to hear it,” Arthur retorted, swiping up Merlin’s now discarded bowl of soup and swallowing a mouthful. He looked between them dangerously. “You better be.” Clapping Merlin on the back, he snuck his arm around him. “By the way, Merlin, this is crap.”
—
It was a small miracle that Gwaine managed to keep a straight face while telling Merlin and Arthur he’d booked them a hotel room with a double bed. A miracle Merlin was going to attack him for, but a miracle nonetheless.
Arthur seemed to be taking it well. He was laid on his back watching Merlin unbutton his shirt like it was an everyday occurance.
“Merlin,” he said, over pronouncing the syllables, “how much of a meal can you make of that shirt?”
He groaned, and collapsed backwards onto the right half of the bed. “Feel free to take the floor.”
Arthur snorted. “You’re going to sleep in your shirt?”
“Stop fixating on the shirt!” Merlin exploded, watching Arthur roll onto his side with a smirk.
“Merlin, do you know how to take a shirt off? Do you need me to show you?”
“You prat,” Merlin exclaimed, his tone fading as he watched Arthur sit up and strip his pyjama shirt off. “Bugger off.”
Making a poor show of pretending to think about it, Arthur said, “No, I don’t think I will.”
Merlin raided his arsenal of insults. “You utter clotpole. You… dollophead.”
Arthur grinned. “Good night, Merlin.”
Not fair.
—
There was a savage smirk on Gwaine’s face as he said, “When was the last time Arthur was in a relationship?”
Merlin paused over the sink. “I don’t know. Vivian?”
“A serious relationship,” Gwaine amended, still grinning wildly.
“Is there a point to this?” Merlin snapped, staring at the murky dishwater.
His friend leaned against the counter and said in a low voice, “He hasn’t. Not in one longer than two months, not since he met you.” Gwaine folded his arms. “You know what Elena told me? She thought he liked you.”
“Gwaine, just stop it, okay?” Merlin sighed, the fight suddenly gone from his voice. “I know you think one day your meddling will miraculously get me and Arthur together, but nothing will ever happen.”
“Kilgharrah said he’s your destiny,” Gwaine persevered, and Merlin turned the tap on to drown him out.
“Kilgharrah was trying to convince me to pay his bail,” Merlin said forcefully, “and he told me to stab Arthur’s father with my umbrella. He’s hardly on Team Arthur.”
“Merlin, mate,” Gwaine drawled. “Does it matter? Arthur’s the only one whose opinion counts, and he’s on Team Merlin.”
At that, Merlin threatened him with the wet sponge.
—
Later, Merlin would blame the music and the drinking for what he said next.
Arthur was in a suit, even though they were out, and not kissing him was taking all the restraint usually held for not saying things like, “Did you know Elena thought you liked me?”
“Did she?” Arthur said drily, turning an empty shot glass around in his left hand. “Well, she was wrong.”
“Knew it!” Merlin crowed.
Arthur looked at him oddly. “I don’t like you, Merlin, I’m in love with you.”
He stood up straight, as if he’d been doused with cold water. “Did Gwaine put you up to this?”
“That,” Arthur returned, “was not how I pictured it in my head.”
“How did you picture it, then?” Merlin said, watching him discard the glass.
“There was a lot more kissing, and you tell me you’ve been pining after me for the last five years too.”
Merlin blinked. “Wow, that’s accurate.” He cleared his throat. “So if I told you I loved you, you’d kiss me?”
“Yes!” Arthur exclaimed, staring at Merlin as if he was a clotpole.
Maybe he was.
“Right. Good.” He levelled Arthur’s gaze. “Arthur Pendragon, I love you.”
Arthur kissed him.
—
Gwaine found them making out on the couch two days later, after picking the lock to their apartment and breaking in.
“What the heck do you think you’re doing?” Arthur thundered, as Gwaine grinned at them unapologetically from the doorway.
“I thought you were being held hostage,” he argued unconvincingly. Then, he turned on Merlin. “I’ll be your best man.”
Merlin shook his head. “No, you won’t. I’ll choose Gaius.”
“Don’t get cocky,” Gwaine returned. He grinned at Arthur, who looked like he might throw something at him. “How about you, Arthur? Surely I can outrank Leon?”
He had his head all but chewed off at that comment. “We’re not getting married!”
Gwaine sighed. “No offence, mate, but at the pace it took you to get together, can’t you see that Merlin will make a much better groom before he’s gone bald?”
There was a long silence, and Arthur chucked a cushion at Gwaine’s head, which he narrowly dodged.
Merlin grinned at Arthur. “Aw. I thought the throwing thing was special just for me.”
The blonde smirked. “Let me make it up to you, then.”
“If you must,” Merlin said, already leaning in to kiss him.
Gwaine took the hint.