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Twinkling fairy lights of every color flash brightly in the darkness. Merlin stares at the door to the pub. Even with the door closed, Merlin can hear the obnoxiously loud Christmas music blaring. Worse, he can hear the off tune singing of drunken patrons warming up their voices as though it will make a difference in how their carols sound.
Merlin considers running away. There won’t be a train back to London until after the holiday, but he could live in the Ealdor train station if it meant not having to sing carols in the cold.
Except he can hear his mother in the back of his mind.
~>>
“You haven’t been home in almost a year.”
Merlin knows every trick in his mother’s playbook. Guilt remains one of her best. He guiltily shifts his weight and bites the inside of his cheek.
“You missed the past three Christmases,” Hunith continues, rolling out dough with an unnecessary ferocity.
Merlin sighs. “You know I have to work, mum.”
“You hate your job.” Hunith brandishes the rolling pin like a weapon. With each word it wobbles closer to Merlin’s face.
“I do not!”
“You complain about it all the time.”
Merlin doesn’t point out that he never complains about his job. He complains about his boss, Arthur Pendragon, a trust fund brat with more money than common sense. He’s demanding, rude and ungrateful.
Yet, in a startling dichotomy, Arthur Pendragon also has a heart of gold and hair to match. As the founder and CEO of Du Bois Charities he gives away more money than he wastes on fancy cars and suits. And Merlin loves the fact that he chooses to fund up and coming artists, children’s creative workshops and camps for sick children.
“I just-“ she chokes on a fake sob. “You never know which Christmas will be my last and your uncle is getting on in years.”
“Mum.” Merlin hisses. He turns away from the open kitchen door, hoping that the other village mums don’t come to investigate. “I know when you’re fake crying.”
“I am still your mother, Merlin Emrys,” Hunith harshly barks.
Merlin flushes with embarrassment.
“Everything alright in there?” a woman calls from the living room.
Hunith grins victoriously as she watches her son lose all will to fight. His shoulders slump. He bites his lip. He reaches for the hook with his coat on it.
“Fine,” Merlin hisses. “But I’m not going to enjoy it.”
“I just don’t want you to end up alone, cariad.”
<<~
Which is how he ends up with Gwaine drunkenly crooning Christmas carols in his ear as they walk between houses.
“It’s nice to have you home,” Gwaine says, grinning brightly at Merlin.
Once upon a time, Merlin would’ve swooned. Gwaine, eyes alight with all the colors of Christmas, pressing against him to keep him warm, had been Merlin’s New Year’s wish from the ages of fifteen to twenty. Then they’d fallen into a drunken snogfest and decided that they were better as friends. Their definitions of friends differs in that Gwaine shags his friends when he fancies it and Merlin does not.
The group of carol singers rounds the corner of Merlin’s lane. Every inch of his mother’s home is decked out in faerie lights, garland and ribbons. He wonders if he can slip away and sneak in the backdoor. Gwaine hugs him tighter with the arm looped around his waist and he knows it’ll be impossible.
They don’t even have to knock before Merlin’s mother and Uncle Gaius are at the door with tea, cocoa, biscuits and cake. Hunith’s friends gather behind the two as the carollers start another rendition of Silent Night.
Hunith pushes a cup of tea into Merlin’s cold hands and smiles brightly at Gwaine. She dotes on Gwaine as he sings louder and more offkey than the rest. Gwaine gets cookies. Merlin gets his hand slapped away from the tray. Gwaine gets a beautiful slice of cake. Merlin is given an unfrosted slice that has already fallen apart. And when Merlin finishes his tea and asks his mother for more, as all the other carollers start on their third song, she takes the cup and never gives it back.
Merlin’s only too happy to return to Gwaine so he can pilfer some of the cookies he’s hidden in his pocket.
“Hey,” Gwaine protests.
“My mum likes you more than me,” Merlin complains.
“I visit her more,” Gwaine whispers in his ear.
Merlin playfully smacks Gwaine. Gwaine puts his arm back around Merlin and Merlin, cold and tired, snuggles into the warmth. He can feel his mother sharing smirks and excited whispers with her friends, hoping that this will be the year Gwaine decides to settle down and make an honest man out of her son.
When the shiny red sports car drives down the lane and pulls into her driveway, Hunith’s face falls. She doesn’t wait for the blond driver to get out of the car to stomp back into her home.
Merlin stiffens.
“You alright?” Gwaine asks.
The car door opens and Arthur Pendragon steps out. If Merlin hadn’t already felt foolish in the Christmas jumper, Arthur’s cashmere sweater and perfect jeans make him feel ridiculous. Arthur’s eyes catch Merlin’s. His beautiful face is unreadable as his blue eyes take in the awful jumper, Merlin’s cold chapped face and Gwaine hanging precariously onto him. Nothing could make the situation more mortifying.
“No!” Hunith shouts as she barrels out of her home, rolling pin in hand. “It is Christmas Eve and you are not taking my son!”
“Mum!”
Gwaine bursts out laughing as Hunith swings the rolling pin at Arthur’s head. Arthur just barely manages to duck out of the way. Carol singers gasp and gape. Gaius sucks in a shocked breath. All of Merlin’s mother’s friends gather in the doorway to watch Hunith raise the rolling pin to swing again.
Merlin rushes to stop his mother from assaulting his boss and immediately slips on an icy patch landing in the snow. All eyes are on him as he wishes for Father Christmas to let the snow swallow him. Mortified, he closes his eyes feeling the cold of the snow beneath him sink into his clothes.
“Are you okay?”
The posh voice of Arthur Pendragon never sounded so soft. Merlin’s eyes open. Standing above him, getting his fancy shoes wet in the snow, Arthur offers him a hand. Merlin doesn’t hesitate to take it.
“Are you okay?” Arthur repeats softly, looking over Merlin as though he were made of glass and had nearly shattered in front of him.
“Fine.”
“Look what you’ve done,” Hunith accuses Arthur, shaking her rolling pin at him as she wraps Merlin in her arms and begins ushering him inside past her gaping friends.
Gaius follows her and then she slams the door closed so hard the wreath bounces against it. The carolers amble onto the next house, eyeing Arthur as they pass. He remains, shocked and mortified in the garden unsure of what to do.
“You must be Arthur,” Gwaine says, offering Arthur his flask instead of his hand.
Arthur refuses the drink. Gwaine takes another long pull from the flask before offering it to Arthur again.
“You sure? Might need it.”
Arthur silently looks between the picturesque cottage and the drunken man beside him. Gwaine’s reindeer ears are askew and his jumper blinks ‘Happy Christmas’ in alternating red and green.
All of it is suddenly too much, because he’s only known Christmases that are silver, gold, posh and perfect. The carols are sung by professionals with a string quartet accompanying them and no one’s mother tries to take his head off with a rolling pin. Everyone smiles perfectly for pictures with gifts bought by assistants and everyone goes home to cold lonely flats and buries themselves in their work.
He takes a drink of Gwaine’s whiskey.
“Good man.” Gwaine claps him on the shoulder. “Now, let’s go face the music.”
Gwaine strolls right into Merlin’s home like he lives in it. The cluster of ladies stop gossiping when Arthur enters the sitting room. The silence lasts for two very uncomfortable seconds.
“Go tell him you quit!” Hunith’s voice carries through the entire home. “If you leave on Christmas Eve I will disown you! Gwaine will be my son.”
“I’m not quitting my job, mum.”
Above them there’s stomping and angry muttering that sounds Welsh. Suddenly, Hunith appears on the stairs still cursing in languages Arthur doesn’t understand. Arthur tries to make himself as small as possible. The rolling pin is thankfully gone but Hunith’s glare hurts just the same.
“Gwaine.” Hunith pointedly ignores Arthur. “Would you like some more cocoa? Ladies, let’s move to the kitchen. It’s rather cold in here.”
The fireplace crackles beside Arthur. The room’s nearly boiling, but the ladies take their cups and trays of treats into the kitchen.
Merlin descends the steps moments later in a dry hoodie and jeans. The pair stand in silence until it becomes awkward. From the kitchen, there isn’t a single peep. Arthur looks over his shoulder to find one of Hunith’s friends spying on them. She flushes and moves away from the door. The door still doesn’t close.
“Wanna go outside?” Merlin asks with an eye roll.
Arthur nods.
It’s no easier to find the words outside.
“So,” Arthur says softly.
“So.”
“Still haven’t told your mum then?”
Merlin begrudgingly smiles. “She isn’t exactly your biggest fan.”
“I’ve noticed.”
Merlin snorts. A puff of condensation rises in the cold. Arthur smiles as the light catches Merlin’s eyes making them sparkle with mirth.
“You should’ve told me you were coming,” Merlin whispers.
“I know. I know.” Arthur sighs. He shifts his weight nervously. “I thought I would chicken out and I didn’t want you to know.”
Merlin watches him with patient eyes. Arthur has never felt so safe. Merlin takes half a step toward Arthur and stops. Faces press against the kitchen window fogging it up with their breath.
“They’re watching us.”
Merlin gestures for them all to go away. The women flush and shuffle away. Hunith glares. Gwaine gives a thumbs up and pulls Hunith from the window, drawing the curtains behind him.
“That’s Gwaine I take it?”
Merlin nods.
“Gwaine that wants to shag you?”
“We’re friends,” Merlin reminds him.
“Right.”
The two fall into an uneasy silence. Arthur’s not good at the messy parts. He’s only ever seen emotion expressed in distant cold ways that leave him feeling bereft. He doesn’t feel cold or distant about Merlin. He feels messy and entangled like when they make love and the sheets wrap around them, damp with sweat and clinging to their skin. Merlin makes messes wherever he goes, Arthur included.
“I should go,” Arthur blurts out, moving toward his car.
“Because of Gwaine?”
“No, it’s just-“ Arthur pauses to shake his head and find the words.
He doesn’t belong in Merlin’s messy world where the lights sparkle brightly and people love completely.
“I’ll see you in London, alright?”
It’s impossible to miss the disappointment on Merlin’s face when he whispers, “Yeah. I’ll see you in London.”
Arthur bites his lip, digs his nails into his palms and gets into the car. He starts the engine but waits for Merlin to go back inside before shifting it into gear. Then he puts the car back in park. He takes the keys from the engine and stomps back to the door and knocks.
The moment the door opens, he’s pressing his lips to Merlin’s, eyes closed, heart hammering in his ears. He brings a hand up to cup Merlin’s jaw except it isn’t Merlin’s. He jumps back.
“Arthur?” Merlin squeaks questioningly from the sofa.
Gwaine grins ferally at Arthur. “You kiss well for a posh twat.”
Arthur blinks, says nothing and turns back to his car.
“Arthur!” Merlin goes running out of the house after him. “Wait!” There’s a hint of laughter in his voice.
He reaches Arthur before Arthur reaches the safety of his car. He pulls at his arm.
“Come in and meet my mum.”
Merlin wraps his arms around Arthur’s waist. Behind them his mum’s friends, Gaius and Gwaine are jockeying for the best position to watch from the sitting room window. Hunith, rolling pin in hand, has the kitchen window to herself. Arthur’s eyes meet hers.
“She has the rolling pin,” Arthur whispers.
Merlin smiles, letting his chin rest on Arthur’s shoulder.
“And I really wouldn’t blame her for hitting me with it after that.”
“I should admit something before we go back in. I may have told her that you make me work obscene hours so I didn’t have to admit to shagging my boss.”
Arthur can’t stop himself from snorting. Merlin laughs with him.
“I should admit something too.” Arthur turns in Merlin’s embrace so he can take Merlin’s face in his hands. “I’m madly in love with you. Like I can’t think when you aren’t around and I’ve gone completely insane in less than a day without you.”
Merlin’s too beautiful in the twinkling light with flushed cheeks and a lopsided grin not to kiss. Arthur tries to pull away when Gwaine whistles lewdly, but Merlin pulls him closer, deepening the kiss. When they break apart, Merlin takes Arthur by the hand and leads him back to the house.
All eyes are on them when they step inside. Gwaine winks. Gaius smiles warmly. The village mums fail to pretend like they weren’t just pressed against the window spying. Hunith stands in the doorway to the kitchen, rolling pin in hand.
“Everyone,” Merlin begins with an exasperated sigh, “this is Arthur, my boyfriend.”
There’s a mumble of greetings from around the room.
“Arthur, this is my mum.”
Hunith crosses her arms across her chest. Her eyes narrow. The rolling pin remains an ever present threat in her hands.
“Welcome to our home,” she says stiffly.
“It’s nice to meet you. Merlin told me so much about all of you.”
It’s a horrible thing to say because Merlin’s told them about Arthur too, except he’s been complaining about Arthur his boyfriend while they thought he was Arthur the boss.
“I’m working late with Arthur. He’s so picky about his supper. I can’t come home this weekend. Arthur needs me in the office.
Hunith narrows her eyes.
“It was so nice of you to stop by,” Hunith says coldly. “I’m sure you’re a busy man.”
“Mum,” Merlin hisses.
Hunith turns her fury toward her son. She points the rolling pin at him with menacing intention.
Arthur begins to pull away from Merlin. Merlin holds tightly to his hand. With big pleading eyes, Merlin pouts at his mother. Hunith sighs. She lowers the rolling pin a fraction of an inch.
“Do you have plans for the holiday?” Hunith asks Arthur.
“No, ma’am. I don’t think I’d make it back to London in time for Christmas.”
Merlin pouts on Arthur’s behalf as he presses closer to him.
“You’ll have to stay then,” Hunith decides, lowering the rolling pin. “Let’s get you warmed up. Tea or cocoa?”
“Tea for us both,” Merlin answers, smiling up at Arthur.
Hunith points her rolling pin at her son. “None for boys who lie to their mother.”
Hunith spends the rest of Christmas Eve spoiling Arthur rotten with cake, tea and embarrassing stories of Merlin as a child. Gwaine sneaks whiskey into Arthur’s teacup and adds the most embarrassing details to the stories.
~>>
It’s the first Christmas Arthur doesn’t dress in a suit. He’s in a pair of Merlin’s track pants and an old tshirt when he opens his very first ugly Christmas jumper which he wears proudly the rest of the day.