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When Morgana had said that she had a friend she wanted to introduce him to, Arthur hadn’t been expecting someone like Merlin.
Well, to be fair, he doesn’t know what he was expecting exactly, given that his sister’s involvement in his love life had previously been limited to sitting on the sidelines and smirking as Arthur made yet another horrible mistake. So when she’d suggested setting him up with one of her mates from uni, he’d justifiably been a little suspicious.
(”Come on Arthur, I think you two could be really good for each other!”
“The answer’s still no. And if your eyebrows ever do that in the context of my romantic life again, I’m shaving them off in your sleep.”
“At least give him a chance. He can’t be worse than Sophia, anyway.”
“Sophia went bonkers and tried to drown me, Morgana.”
“Exactly! Merlin certainly wouldn’t do anything like that. Well, not unless you-”
“Fine. But if this is a disaster, you can do Sunday lunch with Father by yourself for the next three weeks.”)
And so when Arthur’s at the pub a few days later waiting for Merlin to arrive, he really has no idea what sort of person to look out for. Some starving artist type, maybe. What sort of sane person would want to be friends with Morgana, anyway?
After paying for his drink, he turns to sit at a table somewhere to wait for Merlin, who is now officially late. Before he can move however, a tall, dark-haired man collides with him, sloshing Arthur’s drink all down his front.
“You idiot,” Arthur exclaims before he can stop himself. “Can’t you look where you’re going?”
“Oh my god, I’m really sorry,” the man babbles apologetically. “I sort of wasn’t looking where I was going and then you were just there and-”
As the man continues to talk, Arthur catches himself thinking that it’s a shame he promised Morgana he’d meet this Merlin bloke, because the dark-haired man is really very good-looking in a strange sort of way, with his eyes and cheekbones and...
“I’m meant to be meeting someone and now I’ve got beer all over my shirt because you don’t seem to have mastered the art of walking in a straight line,” Arthur complains. Possibly more obnoxiously than the situation deserves, but really, he can’t be blamed for that. It’s a defence mechanism.
“You don’t have to be so rude about it,” the man says, frowning now. “This may be a shock, but the world doesn’t actually revolve around you. I’m meant to be meeting someone too and now I’m late because of you - well, later than I already was, anyway-”
A knot of suspicion is growing inside Arthur’s stomach.
“Hang on,” Arthur says slowly. “Your name isn’t Merlin by any chance, is it?”
“Yeah, how did you know that?” A look of horror dawns over Merlin’s face. “You aren’t Arthur, are you?”
Arthur nods ruefully.
Merlin scowls. “Let’s get this over with then,” he says, stalking off towards a table in the corner. Calling over his shoulder, he adds, “And I’m only still here because Morgana threatened to cut up all of my neckerchiefs if I didn’t give you a chance. Just so you know.”
Coughing to cover up his snort of laughter, Arthur follows him, wet shirt still sticking to his chest. He has a feeling this is going to be an interesting evening.
***
A few hours later, Arthur is sitting next to a rambling Merlin, trying unsuccessfully to hide his smirk because, as it turns out, Merlin is the most adorable drunk ever.
“... and you know Morgana said you were an idiot and she’s right, you kind of are but your hair’s also really shiny. She didn’t mention that.” Merlin breaks off as he gesticulates a little too wildly with the hand which is holding his pint glass. He gazes sadly at the spilled liquid before looking up at Arthur again, staring at him dreamily for a second. “Your eyes are so blue. ’s a shame you’re such a prat, because other than that you’re actually quite nice and-”
“Merlin?”
“Yeah?”
“Shut up.” And with that, Arthur leans forwards to kiss him softly on the lips.
Merlin might not be what he’d been expecting. But he’s far, far, better.