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‘Happy birthday, Jack!’
‘Thanks,’ Merlin grinned, taking the bottle of wine that Alice had thrust at him. ‘Come on in; Gina and Fred are already here.’
‘Feeling old yet?’ She waggled her eyebrows, and he pretended to sigh wistfully.
‘You have no idea.’
‘Well, we can’t stay young and beautiful forever.’ Alice patted him on the shoulder and swept past to say hello to the others.
‘If you say so,’ Merlin chuckled under his breath. He followed her to the living room and put the bottle on the side table, looking fondly at his three friends. After all these years, he had learned to appreciate having someone to celebrate his birthday with, even if their estimation of his age was off by several centuries. And it was funny, though not really surprising, that he was always drawn to people who reminded him of home. Alice was like Gwaine in many ways, Gina had Gwen’s kindness and fierce loyalty, and Fred would have gotten along with Percival and Leon. Merlin even had someone in his life now whom he could at times call a clotpole—his boss, Derek (although there the similarities between him and Arthur ended). And he was already used to hiding things even from those closest to him, so it didn’t really hurt that much that he couldn’t be completely honest with them. He had accepted his lot and tried to make the best of it. But sometimes he wished…
The ringing of the doorbell interrupted his musings, and he turned towards the hallway with surprise.
‘Are you expecting someone else?’ Alice asked eagerly, always on the lookout for the unexpected.
‘No.’ He frowned, then sighed. It was probably his batty neighbour coming to complain about the (imagined) noise. The doorbell rang again, and he steeled himself for an unpleasant conversation.
As soon as the door swung open, however, the prepared apology and all the other thoughts milling in his head flew away. In fact, for a moment, he forgot his own name.
Standing before him, wearing jeans and a checkered flannel shirt with rolled-up sleeves, his hair as unruly as ever, was Lancelot. Lancelot, whom he had not seen for almost a millennium and a half. Lancelot, who now gave him a tentative smile and said quietly, ‘Happy birthday, Merlin.’
The warlock gaped at him, unable to believe his eyes. This couldn’t be true. How? Why? He had never truly lost hope that he would see Lancelot again, but he had always assumed that the knight would walk out of the Lake of Avalon with Arthur, wearing a chainmail and brandishing a sword. So this casual meeting on the doorstep of his flat in Exeter, with ABBA’s Mamma Mia playing in the background (and wasn’t that perfectly on point?), was unexpected. Amazing but unexpected, and Merlin’s brain simply shut down. His body, however, acted of its own accord, and he pulled the knight inside, then started running his hands over him as if to make sure he was not just a figment of his imagination. But no, he was as real as Alice, Gina, or Fred and exactly the way that Merlin remembered him. Even those calloused hands that now caught his own to stop their wandering were as gentle as ever…
‘Jack? Jack!’ Fred’s voice broke through the haze filling his mind. ‘Do you want to introduce us?’
Merlin was surprised by how even his voice sounded when there was a storm of emotions raging inside him.
‘This is my friend. My very old and very dear friend.’
He wondered how rude it would be if he were to leave his guests and drag Lancelot off to his bedroom, where they could be alone, separated from the outside world by a door locked with magic, just like in Camelot. As much as he loved his friends, all he wanted and needed right now was time and opportunity to fully appreciate his surprise birthday gift. He was still debating it when Alice, with her typical bluntness and disregard for social cues, pushed herself between him and Lancelot and extended her hand to the latter with an enticing smile.
‘Well, hello there, Jack’s very old and very dear friend. I’m Alice. What’s your name?’
Lancelot got flustered for a second (Merlin could tell by how his eyes widened slightly), but after a beat, he replied smoothly, ‘Elvis.’
‘Elvis?’ Even the unshakeable Alice was caught off guard, though she recovered quickly and winked. ‘Well, no wonder you and Jack hit it off. Alexa, play Can’t Help Falling in Love.’
Lancelot was clearly at a loss how to react, and Merlin was too busy fighting the blush creeping up his neck to help him out (after all, there was a reason why that song was at the top of his playlist entitled Bregdan anweald). The urge to lock themselves away somewhere to talk freely was overwhelming, but before he could act on it, Alice took Lancelot’s arm and led him off to the kitchen, offering him a drink and asking about how he and Jack had met.
As soon as they were out of earshot, Gina started bombarding Merlin with whispered questions. Where did he find this dreamboat? Were they, you know, together? Why had he never mentioned him before? He fended her off with some evasive answers that he knew would not satisfy her curiosity, but he just couldn’t focus enough to think of a coherent and plausible story. It was impossible to explain their relationship and what Lancelot meant to him to people who didn’t know about Camelot. After all, his friends thought he was a twenty-something guy who liked ‘old’ music and worked at a cool place that popularised science, not an immortal sorcerer with a destiny to protect Albion… and a heart that had been yearning for a certain noble knight for fifteen centuries.
He shook his head like a dog getting out of the water. Why on earth was he not within touching distance of Lancelot right now?
‘Alice, can you give us a minute?’ She would probably mock him good-naturedly for the urgency in his voice later, but he couldn’t care less.
‘Sure. He’s refusing to tell me any embarrassing stories about you, so he’s no use to me anyway. Have fun!’ She blew them a kiss with a wicked grin and left them alone.
Merlin had a million questions he wanted to ask, but the sight of Lancelot leaning against the countertop in his kitchen was so bizarre that he finally blurted out the least important one, ‘Why Elvis?’
Lancelot pointed through the open doorway to the poster on the living-room wall that depicted the King.
‘I thought I needed a more common name.’
Merlin giggled, taking a step closer.
‘Mission not accomplished.’
‘I’m sorry.’
‘Don’t be. It’s quite fitting, actually.’ Another step. ‘He also made people swoon.’
‘Merlin…’ Lancelot looked away in embarrassment.
‘Oh my god,’ the warlock rolled his eyes, ‘fifteen hundred years later, and you’re still in denial?’
‘But I don’t want to make people swoon.’
‘Oh, really?’ Merlin quirked an eyebrow at him, playing with the knight’s leather wristband, similar to the one he had been wearing when they first met.
Lancelot blushed.
‘I meant people in general, not… not a specific person,’ he clarified with a look that left no doubt as to whom he had in mind, and Merlin’s heart slammed into overdrive.
‘Well, I’m going to take advantage of that,’ he whispered, then locked his gaze with Lancelot’s so that the knight would be the only one to see the glow in his eyes as he flicked his hand to change the music that was flowing in from the living room. He had dreamed of playing him this song since he had first heard it.
When marimba rhythms start to play
Dance with me, make me sway
Lancelot didn’t have to be asked twice. Not taking his eyes off the warlock, he clasped one of his hands in his own and slipped his other arm around Merlin’s waist, pulling him close.
Like a lazy ocean hugs the shore
Hold me close, sway me more
Merlin closed his eyes and rested his head on Lancelot’s shoulder. He recalled their first attempt at dancing, all those years ago in Camelot, which had been a disaster until they said, ‘Screw the steps,’ and just went with what felt right.
Like a flower bending in the breeze
Bend with me, sway with ease
It was amazing how easily they picked up right where they had left off fifteen centuries earlier (and how little it mattered to them that the kitchen was tiny and cluttered).
When we dance you have a way with me
Stay with me, sway with me
Merlin looked up to see Lancelot smiling down at him with a hint of sadness in his eyes. His heart squeezed painfully because he knew what that meant.
‘You’re not staying, are you?’
The knight shook his head.
‘We have only until midnight.’
Other dancers may be on the floor
Dear, but my eyes will see only you
‘I like this song,’ Lancelot murmured, leading him into a slow turn that nevertheless left Merlin dizzy.
Only you have the magic technique
When we sway I go weak
‘It is very spot on,’ the warlock agreed breathlessly.
I can hear the sound of violins
Long before it begins
Merlin gently pulled his hand from Lancelot’s grasp, then slipped his arms around the knight’s neck.
‘Pay attention now,’ he whispered in his ear.
Make me thrill as only you know how
Sway me smooth, sway me now
‘Happy 1555th, Merlin.’
‘You’ve made it so. And we still have…’ he squinted at the clock, ‘3 hours and 17 minutes. Any ideas?’
Lancelot bowed and kissed his hand as the song ended.
‘Whatever you wish.’
Merlin thought longingly of shutting his bedroom door on the outside world and just forgetting about everything. But it would have been too much like old times, and maybe the point was to make new memories with Lancelot? To sit with him on the couch, drink wine, laugh at Alice’s jokes, tease Gina about her latest celebrity crush, think of perfect comebacks for when someone made fun of Fred for being a librarian… and dance some more, of course, finally being able to use all those songs that had always made him think of his knight to show Lancelot how he felt.
And so they did just that, and it was perfect.
And when he found a leather wristband among the wine glasses in the morning, he put it on and smiled.