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After a long week of work and the end of the seventh week with no Merlin, Arthur found himself at the pub, pulled along by trusty Gwaine.
They sat at the bar, chatting away, slowly making their way through a few beers. (Well, Gwaine’s had four so far, and Arthur’s still nursing his second.)
“So when’s Merlin coming back again?” Gwaine asked after he took another swig.
“In a week. He’s in the last bit of his lecture circuit, now,” Arthur said.
“Whew,” Gwaine whistled. “He sure is going places. I’ll tell you, I think he’s on his way to being the UK’s number one historian.”
Arthur huffed, nodding. “It wouldn’t surprise me. Merlin’s always been in love with history. He’s got such a passion for it.”
Gwaine bumped Arthur’s shoulder. “Yeah, but he’s got a bigger passion for you I think, mate.”
Arthur rolled his eyes, but failed to conceal his smile.
“I mean it, Arthur. I’ve known Merlin since—”
“Since you were fifteen, I know—”
“And I’ve never seen him so happy before. You’ve done quite a number on him.”
Arthur smiled into his beer. His heart sang with happiness knowing that his and Merlin’s friends could see their love for each other as clearly as they could.
***
A few hours later, Gwaine was pissed. Arthur was quite drunk himself, too.
Gwaine was off in a booth talking to a beautiful woman, and Arthur bet himself that the pair would be snogging in five minutes.
That’s when a bloke sat beside Arthur at the bar.
“Hi there,” the bloke said.
Arthur turned to look at him. Dark hair, brown eyes. He looked friendly. “Hi,” Arthur said.
“I’m Oswald.”
“Arthur.”
“Oh, really? I knew you’d have a great name like that.”
Arthur furrowed his brow. “Thanks,” he muttered.
The small talk continued on, propelled by Oswald. The thing was, Arthur was (and has always been) oblivious to flirting. He thought perhaps Oswald was just lonely and wanted to chat with a stranger. And Arthur, never a fan of small talk, just let it continue, taking it in stride as best as he could, because that was the polite thing to do. If he could make this stranger’s night better by just sitting here and chatting with him, well, it’s not like he had anything better to do tonight. He was stuck here until Gwaine stopped snogging that girl and they got a cab back to their respective flats together.
“What cologne do you use?” Oswald suddenly asked. “You smell good.”
“Uhm, I don’t know. I don’t remember.” Arthur decided to use Merlin’s cologne tonight—the one that he left at home—and Arthur had no idea what it was called. Something French, he thought. But he loved smelling like Merlin.
“Wait, sorry,” Oswald said, sliding off the bar stool, “can you come with me to the back? I can’t hear you very well.”
Arthur shrugged, getting up. He downed his beer, and at the same time remembered that he usually would’ve switched to water by now. His blood continued to buzz as he followed Oswald to the back, where the music was quieter.
Arthur looked ahead and saw that the farthest table in the back was empty. Although, if that meant that they were going to sit there and talk even more then maybe Arthur should just go get Gwaine and leave right now. Because with meetings all day at work and now this, Arthur was done with the polite small talk.
“Wait,” he said, “actually—”
“Come here,” Oswald said, and they passed the table in the back and went to the quiet lobby outside the bathrooms.
Suddenly Oswald’s hand was around Arthur’s wrist and he turned him and pressed him against the wall, faces so close that their breaths mingled. It all happened so fast, and the beer in Arthur’s belly further slowed his reaction time.
“You’re gorgeous,” Oswald whispered. He leaned forward and kissed Arthur’s lips.
Arthur’s eyes were wide open, his brain short-circuiting. And not in the good way that it does when Merlin kisses him.
Merlin.
Oswald pressed even closer against Arthur, continuing to kiss against his unmoving lips.
No.
Everything caught up with Arthur.
This wasn’t Merlin. This wasn’t Merlin. Gods, this felt so wrong . Wrong, wrong, wrong.
Arthur’s voice boomed as he shoved Oswald away from him. “No!”
“Hey!” Oswald said, throwing his hands up. “What?”
“You stay away from me,” Arthur growled, before he disappeared around the corner, back into the noisy bar.
Arthur walked past the booth where Gwaine and the girl were snogging. “Gwaine, I’m going. I’ll text you later.”
Arthur was at the front door when Gwaine called his name.
“Arthur!” Gwaine shouted over the music, still in the booth with his arm around the girl, but Arthur could see the concern in his eyes. “You okay?”
Arthur took a deep breath.
A grin spread up his face and he nodded. “Never better!”
***
Arthur thanked the gods that Queen Annis’ Jewelry was still open at this time of night.
He had quickly sobered after he left the pub, the chilly rain pelting down on him. It turns out, another man who’s not your boyfriend kissing you in a pub has the power to sober people up. He hadn’t had terribly too much to drink anyway.
The bell dinged as Arthur entered the jewelry shop and immediately went to look at the display case of engagement rings.
He ignored the questions of the shopkeeper and let his intuition guide him as he stared at the beautiful array of rings. And then one caught his eye.
“Can I please see that one?” Arthur asked, looking up at the shopkeeper and pointing to a ring in the case.
Maybe the shopkeeper could sense that Arthur was of the “old money”. He unlocked the case and held out the ring.
Oh, it was beautiful.
A silver band, not too thick and not too thin, with a blue line around the middle of it. And embedded into the band was a big, bright, shining diamond.
“This is it,” Arthur said. “I’ll take this one.”
***
The seven hour drive to Glasgow, to Merlin , seemed to take forever. But the anxiety that Arthur expected to feel around the halfway point never came, and instead he found himself pressing on the gas pedal even harder.
It was 2 am by the time Arthur parked out front of Merlin’s hotel. He checked his text from Merlin to make sure he knew the right room number, then walked inside.
Arthur nodded to the receptionist, doing his best to act like he belonged there, then made his way down the hall to the elevator.
It was then that anxiousness rose up in Arthur. What is he doing? He just expects to waltz right in and propose ? And that Merlin’s going to say yes? What if he has it all wrong? What if Merlin was going to break up with him after his trip? What if he realized he was better off without him?
No.
No, no, no. That’s the anxiety talking.
He can’t stop now. He has the ring, he took the drive, and he’s here . He’s in the same building as Merlin .
After almost two months, he’s in the same building as Merlin.
He’s about to see Merlin .
And gods, he loves Merlin.
Giddiness replaced anxiousness (for the most part, at least), and when the elevator doors opened to the fourth floor, Arthur broke out into a sprint, eyes frantically searching for the number 414 on one of the doors.
And in the middle of the night, in the middle of bloody Scotland, Arthur couldn’t help the feeling that he was almost home as he kneeled down in front of room 414, held out the open ring box, and knocked on the door.
***
Merlin was sitting on the couch in his huge hotel room, revising his lecture notes on his laptop. He had never flinched so hard in his life when there was a knock at the door.
It’s 2 am, who on earth would be on the other side of that door?
Whoever it was, knocked again, and Merlin shot up out of his seat, crossing his arms, tip-toeing slowly to the door. He cursed the fact that there was no peep hole. “Who is it?” he demanded in the deepest, most alert, stern voice he could muster.
“Housekeeping,” piped a high-pitched voice.
Merlin frowned. “I don’t need any housekeeping.”
“Uh—no! No sir, I’m sorry. There was an issue with your bedsheets. I need to fix them,” the girl said.
An issue with his bedsheets? What kind of crap was that?
Then again, what if there really was an issue with his bedsheets? What if they mixed up the dirty from the clean, and Merlin was about to go to bed on someone else’s dirty, used sheets?
Merlin did not like that thought.
He grabbed his keys, pepper spray dangling from the lanyard, and hid them behind his back. He crept closer and closer towards the door, slowly turned the handle, and then ripped the door open.
Merlin gasped.
There was Arthur , in all his glory, after two incredibly long months without him, kneeling right in front of Merlin’s door with a—
A ring.
A ring.
A ring in his hand.
“Merlin,” Arthur said, the smile present in his voice. They met eyes and oh , Merlin hasn’t seen that sincere, true, pure look in Arthur’s eyes in so long. Pupils blown, dreamy, loving blue eyes.
Gods, he missed him.
“Arthur,” Merlin breathed. By then, the pepper spray was long forgotten, dropped to the floor when Merlin cupped both hands around his mouth in pure shock that Arthur was at his door. With a ring .
“I’ve missed you so much,” Arthur said, and all Merlin wanted to do was scoop him up and hold him tight and feel his soft blond hair between his fingers. It had been so long .
“I’ve missed you too,” Merlin said.
“And I—” Arthur continued, “You make me so happy,” he smiled, and Merlin saw the tears welling in his eyes, and felt them in his own. “You make me so happy,” Arthur said again. “I love you so much.” He took a shaky breath. “There is no one, Merlin, no one, who I’d rather be with than you. You are—amazing, and perfect and—I can’t imagine spending my life with anyone besides you.” The tears finally spilled past Arthur’s eyes as he stared at Merlin with pure, undying, unconditional love .
“And I swear, I will spend the rest of my life trying to make you as happy as you make me. Will you marry me, Merlin?” Arthur asked.
The tears that had long since spilled from Merlin’s eyes spilled even faster, and Merlin was frantically nodding his head, saying, “Yes, yes, yes , Arthur ,” as coherently as he could before Arthur’s arms wrapped tight around him, their bodies pressed impossibly close together as they breathed each other in.
“I love you so much,” Merlin whispered, fingers desperately combing through Arthur’s hair.
“I love you too,” Arthur choked. “So much.”
They stood there for what felt like hours, holding each other tightly, silently crying into the other’s hair, shoulder, neck.
“Wait,” Arthur said, clearing his throat and separating from Merlin just enough to hold the ring between them. “Put this on.”
Merlin’s chuckle was wet before he looked down and gasped at the up-close sight of the ring. “It’s beautiful. Arthur—”
“Put it on,” Arthur whispered again.
Hands shaking, Merlin reached out and pried the ring from the box. He slipped the ring onto his third finger. The weight of it there was something Merlin’s never felt before, but he found it felt comforting. Reassuring, in a way he never thought a ring could feel.
“Yeah?” Arthur said, holding Merlin’s hand with both of his own, thumbs rubbing his knuckles.
“Yeah,” Merlin said, leaning his forehead against Arthur’s. “I love you.”
Arthur captured Merlin’s lips with his own. So soft, so chapped, so familiar.
So Merlin .
And he was his, forever.