Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“It’s amazing, you have to watch it,” Gwen gushes, setting down her pint with vigour. The beer sloshes precariously in the still nearly full glass.

Merlin chuckles. “So you have been saying. For the last two hours.”

It is no exaggeration. Arthur had been the last to arrive at the pub thanks to a late anatomy class, and by the time he dropped into his seat next to Merlin, Gwen was already in full swing. The cause of all her excitement is apparently a new Netflix show called Heartstopper.

It sounds rather cheesy to Arthur if he is completely honest. Not that he’ll ever say that out loud where Gwen can hear — he knows better than to provoke her ire. Besides, it’s not like he actually has to—

“Promise me you’ll watch it,” Gwen presses, leaning forward to grab their hands. Arthur hastily pulls his away under the pretence of taking a sip of his beer, which promptly earns him a pointed look. “Both of you.”

Damn it.

Arthur shoots a pleading glance at Leon, but receives no more than a resigned shrug in reply, which means Leon must’ve given in before Arthur even arrived. Where is Gwaine when Arthur needs him? Gwaine is one of the few people who somehow manage to say no to Gwen.

“It’s really worth it,” says Elena, wrapping her arm around Gwen’s shoulders and dropping a kiss on her temple.

“Thank you!” Gwen exclaims.

Arthur glares at Elena, who has the audacity to wink at him. She knows well enough how he feels about romance shows! What has he ever done to deserve such eagerness to see him suffer?

Before Arthur can speak up to somehow weasel out of it, Merlin replies with a sigh, “Okay, okay, we’ll watch it.”

Arthur splutters, turning his glare on Merlin. He manages to hold it for all of two seconds before he feels his resistance melt away in the face of Merlin’s wide, pleading eyes. That goddamn puppy look should be forbidden — especially for insolent flatmates who abuse its power to make Arthur agree to ridiculous things. Their kitchen is orange, for god’s sake!

“Ugh, fine,” he groans. “You owe me at least three Marvel film nights.”

“Why do I owe you anything? Gwen’s the one insisting!” Merlin protests. “I’m being forced as much as you are.”

Everyone at the table knows that is blatantly false, so Arthur doesn’t feel it necessary to call him out on it. Unlike Arthur, Merlin actually enjoys the kind of mushy soft romantic fluff that Gwen likes to recommend; this is no hardship for him — not the way it’s going to be for Arthur.

“You won’t regret it,” Gwen promises with a wide grin.

And really, how can Arthur deny her anything when she beams like her own personal sun? He drains his glass to avoid answering. Merlin being the first to give in has saved Arthur’s pride at least, no need to risk it now.

“We’ll see,” he grumbles, fighting a smile when Gwen squeals happily.

“You have to tell me all your thoughts next Friday! You’ll watch it before then, right?”

Merlin laughs. “Sure. We have nothing planned besides work.”

Arthur stifles a groan. So much for a pleasant weekend.

Arthur is slow to wake on Saturday morning. It had been past midnight when he and Merlin finally got back from the pub to their shared flat, both well-sloshed and in the mood for drunk food. Neither of them had kept an eye on the time, but if Arthur had to guess, they probably didn’t make it into their respective beds before one o’clock. At least the late-night meal prevented too bad of a hangover.

On autopilot, he grabs a fresh t-shirt along with a pair of sweats and goes to take a shower. He is brushing his teeth, refreshed and dressed, when he hears Merlin drag himself out of his room and into the kitchen. The grinding noise of the coffee machine follows a few moments later.

Once done, Arthur passes his room to drop his pyjamas on the bed before padding down the short hall into the open-plan living room, where a steaming cup of coffee is waiting on the kitchen island for him. He sits down without a word while Merlin finishes preparing his own cup. After over two years of living together, Arthur knows better than to try and talk to Merlin before coffee.

A minute of comfortable silence later, Merlin gives a satisfied sigh as he takes his first sip.

“Morning.”

“Mmh.”

Arthur bites back a fond grin. He has long since learned to decipher Merlin’s quasi-nonverbal morning communication. “Slept well?”

“M-hm.” Merlin takes another long sip of coffee. “Mh?”

“Yeah, quite alright. Impressed my head doesn’t hurt worse.”

“Mmh.”

For a few minutes, both of them stay silent as they drink their coffee. Then Arthur gets to his feet.

“Breakfast?”

“God, yes,” Merlin finally speaks, his voice still rough from sleep.

Arthur nods, opens the fridge, and begins to collect the ingredients for pancakes. He doesn’t look up from mixing the batter when Merlin trudges off into the bathroom a couple of minutes later, not worried in the slightest whether Merlin will be back in time for food. He always is.

As expected, Arthur is just finishing up the last pancakes when Merlin returns freshly showered with damp hair and flushed cheeks. With habitual ease, he steps around Arthur to get orange juice and jam from the fridge, along with plates, glasses, and cutlery from the cupboards to set the table.

In the beginning, they snapped at each other more often than not in the morning, with both of them being somewhat particular about what ticks them off so shortly after waking up. Although it had taken them a while, these days their routine is rock-solid. Arthur gets up first because he needs a shower to be functional, which wakes up Merlin, who makes coffee for them both while Arthur occupies the bathroom. They have coffee, and once Merlin is awake enough to get himself ready for the day, he goes to have his shower while Arthur makes breakfast. They eat together, then go on with their respective plans for the day.

Plans which, besides Arthur’s regular football training, amount to exactly nothing this weekend.

Training is intense but satisfying, and Arthur feels positively energised by the time he says his goodbyes to Elyan, Lancelot, and Percy. Maybe he can convince Merlin to come out on a walk, make use of the nice spring weather rather than wasting away inside.

The idea is still on Arthur’s mind when he gets back to their flat. It’d do Merlin good to get some sun and fresh air; he spends entirely too much time buried in books.

“There you are,” Merlin calls from the living room. “I was already wondering whether you decided to go out with your football lads or something.”

“We hung out on the pitch for a bit, just catching up and enjoying the sun,” Arthur replies. “You should try it sometime.”

“What, loafing around on trampled grass and getting a sunburn?” Merlin snorts. “No thanks.”

“Going outside, you off-brand Dracula,” Arthur shoots back from his room.

“Excuse you!”

Arthur laughs. “The weather really is nice, though,” he says as he returns to the living room. “And some physical activity wouldn’t hurt you either.”

“Are you saying I’m out of shape?”

“We’d just go for a walk, not a workout!”

“So you are saying I’m out of shape.”

“Merlin.”

Merlin cackles. “Well, it’ll have to wait another day. Now move your arse over here before this goddamn Sonic trailer plays again.”

For a moment, Arthur blinks at him in confusion. Then he remembers — the stupid Netflix show.

“Ugh, seriously? Today?” Arthur whines, even as he drops onto the couch next to Merlin. “It’s literally a perfect day outside, and you want to watch a show all afternoon?”

“We promised, and we both know if we don’t do it today, we won’t do it at all. Do you want to face Gwen’s eyebrow? Do you?”

Arthur does not shudder at the thought. He does not.

“That’s what I thought,” says Merlin, shoving a pack of Jammie Dodgers at Arthur. His favourite. “Here, I got us all decked out with snacks.”

It isn’t Merlin’s turn to get groceries this week. Arthur is absolutely certain because they both hate doing groceries. And yet Merlin has gone out to get Arthur’s favourite snack, just to cheer him up about a show that isn’t his favourite genre. The bloody sap. He opens his mouth to say as much, but before Arthur can respond, the trailer for Sonic the Hedgehog starts over on the TV.

“No, shut up!” Merlin cries, snatches the remote from the couch table, scrolls to Trending Now, and presses play on Heartstopper. “No more Sonic!”

Arthur capitulates with a laugh and shelves his teasing for later.

The familiar Netflix tu-dum is followed by the sound of a school bell layered over the beginning notes of a pop song. Merlin folds his legs under him and gets comfortable in his corner while Arthur opens the pack of Jammie Dodgers, ready to settle in and spend the next few hours mostly zoned out.

He never makes it that far because right there on the screen, barely a few seconds in, is fifteen-year-old Merlin. With his messy dark curls, bright blue eyes, and ridiculous ears, he is just as Arthur remembers, wearing a dark coat over his school uniform as he walks into the school building.

It isn’t actually him, of course, but the resemblance of the actor to Merlin of six years ago is so pronounced that Arthur sucks in a sharp breath. Beside him on the couch, actual Merlin’s jaw has dropped, and they share a stunned look before returning to stare at the boy on screen. Even the way he moves is reminiscent of Merlin’s school days. It is uncanny.

Arthur vaguely recalls Gwen mentioning something along those lines during her excited rambling. How the main characters remind her of Merlin and Arthur and that they would surely like them for that reason. He hadn’t expected it to be an understatement! Usually, Gwen’s gushing is mostly hyperbole!

Before either of them can fully catch themselves, Charlie Spring is heading for his desk, and there is sixteen-year-old Arthur. Or almost.

Nick Nelson isn’t as perfect of a look-alike for Arthur as Charlie is for Merlin — his hair is a little darker, his face a little rounder, and his eyes are a warm brown instead of sky blue. He looks softer than Arthur ever was.

“Hi,” Charlie says with a wide smile.

“Hi,” Nick echoes, smiling back.

The music swells, and the scene cuts to the title card: 1. Meet

The title card disappears in the blink of an eye, and for a moment, Arthur wants to press pause just to process… that. Process the fact that he and Merlin met almost exactly like that, albeit they hadn’t been half as polite to each other. But the remote is out of reach, and neither he nor Merlin move to grab it. Neither of them move at all for what feels like several minutes as the show continues.

Charlie is kissing some other boy when Arthur finally snaps out of his stupor, having missed the rest of the scene entirely.

“Well, he’s rather popular,” he drawls. “You know, considering he looks like you.”

Merlin makes an outraged noise. “Well, Nick is rather friendly considering he looks like you!”

“Looks have nothing to do with friendliness, idiot.”

“He’s still less of a prat than you,” Merlin retorts.

Arthur laughs, and some of the tension that had seized his shoulders bleeds away. The shock is wearing off into merely surprise. Because that is what it is; he’s surprised. Taken aback for a moment because, really, how could he have anticipated this?

Blowing out a breath, he settles into his seat and stretches his legs out on the couch. Maybe this won’t be so hard to focus on after all.

He watches as Charlie and Nick bump into each other repeatedly. Each time Nick offers a soft “Hi,” and Charlie gives an equally soft “Hi” in return. The fourth time brings an actual conversation, and Arthur is once again struck by how familiar their banter feels. Merlin is right, though; Arthur had been more of a prat in his school years, he can admit that by now.

The other boy, who is apparently called Ben, reappears on screen. As soon as he opens his mouth, Arthur is glad he hadn’t paid any attention to the previous scene he was in. What an arse.

When it cuts to the next segment, Merlin breaks the silence with a huff. “Gwen could’ve warned us.”

“I think she did.”

“I mean properly!”

Arthur laughs again just to tease him, even though he privately agrees. She really could’ve been a little clearer about the level of resemblance. But Gwen probably didn’t say more because this is where the similarities end anyway. So what if the actors happen to look a lot like they did in their youth?

It’s just a show.

They really have to reevaluate how much blind trust they place in Gwen.

By the time the end credits for episode one roll, Arthur is reeling, and he can tell that Merlin is similarly rattled. His head is buzzing with memories and questions to the point that he feels antsy, his heart beating just that side of too fast.

The episode opens doors in Arthur’s mind he didn’t know existed. Because Charlie doesn’t just look like Merlin; he is Merlin, albeit a little less loud and snarky. And Charlie has a crush on Nick.

Did Merlin have a crush on Arthur when they first met?

But then, Merlin may be snarkier than Charlie, sure, but he is still gentle and kind at his core. Arthur wasn’t, not back then. He was a right prat, as Merlin very helpfully informed him within ten minutes of their first meeting. Not exactly crush material.

Arthur shakes himself.

Why is he even thinking about this? Merlin is his best friend, neither of them are crush material for the other! It’s just this damn show that makes him consider ridiculous things because Nick and Charlie are so similar to them.

Not only are they eerie look-alikes for Arthur and Merlin physically, they also seem to live laughably similar lives. Like the fact that Nick plays rugby and Arthur plays football; Charlie plays the drums, Merlin the guitar. Like their social status in school, and the fact that both Charlie and Merlin were faced with bullies after coming out.

Arthur scowls at the memory of Cenred backing Merlin into a corner with a cruel grin on his face. In hindsight, Arthur should’ve done worse to him than he did. It was enough though, and in some ways that day cemented Merlin and Arthur as Merlin-and-Arthur. Nobody tried picking on Merlin again after that.

The chime of Charlie’s phone pulls Arthur out of his thoughts. He focuses back on the TV, and promptly lets out a scoff at seeing Charlie’s flimsy lie that he is fine.

Merlin shoots him a half-hearted glare, to which Arthur arches a brow in return.

They both know downplaying is another habit that Merlin shares with Charlie, and Arthur is almost proud when Charlie doesn’t insist on it in response to Nick’s follow-up. Merlin is much more stubborn with such things.

The show switches to a flashback of Ben approaching Charlie in the music room, and Arthur scowls at Ben’s fake sympathy.

“Well, you’re brave for putting up with all the negativity,” says Ben.

Charlie shrugs. “I guess so.”

The two share a look. Ben nudges their knees together, and Charlie manages a small smile.

“I’m Ben.”

“Arse,” Arthur mutters. If he had a chance to tear Ben Hope limb from limb, he would take it in a heartbeat.

Merlin snorts and nods. He seems remarkably at ease, given that the show must’ve reminded him of the past just as much as it has Arthur. Or hasn’t it?

Granted, he and Merlin weren’t half as wholesome as Nick and Charlie when they first became friends. They bonded through bickering more than anything else, continuing silly arguments between classes until they rarely left each other’s side unless their schedules demanded it.

“He’s straight, Charlie,” Tao chides, peering down at Charlie’s messages with Nick. “Like, you only need to glance at him to see that he’s a massive heterosexual. Isaac, back me up on this.”

“Ginormous heterosexual,” Isaac deadpans, barely looking up from his book.

“Exactly.” Tao nods decisively.

“Masculine guys can be gay,” Charlie argues.

“Yes, thank you,” Arthur huffs.

Merlin laughs.

“No offence, but you’re not exactly the authority on figuring out who is and isn’t gay.” Charlie turns to Isaac. “And bisexual people exist?”

Isaac merely raises his eyebrows and doesn’t reply.

Charlie deflates and turns back to Tao. “I know he’s straight. He told me.”

Arthur makes a noise of protest. “Because you assumed!”

“There, there,” Merlin says, grinning as he pats Arthur’s ankle.

“Sod off,” Arthur snipes, and reinforces the statement with a kick, just for the sake of it.

Merlin laughs again, his eyes already focused back on the screen where Charlie is asking his teacher for advice on getting over a crush on a straight boy.

Unbidden, the question Arthur had firmly put aside just minutes ago reappears in his mind; did Merlin have a crush on him when they first met? Did he talk himself out of it because he thought Arthur was straight? Arthur had certainly done his utmost to appear straight back then.

A mild sting of discomfort flickers in Arthur’s chest. For a moment, it almost feels like disappointment.

He quickly thinks better of it though. If anything, it is regret about how much of himself he had repressed for far too long. How deeply in denial he’d been. But that is in the past, and there is nothing to be disappointed about.

“Looks like Gwen and Elena have their own doppelgangers,” Merlin says, dragging Arthur’s attention back to the show.

It takes him a few seconds to catch up with the scene, then he laughs. “Sure looks like it. That’s probably why they like it so much.”

“I’ll bet,” Merlin cackles.

As Arthur watches Tara and Darcy befriend Elle, he has to admit that it is much less unsettling to see someone else’s not-quite-perfect copy compared to seeing his own. It almost feels… natural. Right, somehow.

For a while, then, Arthur finds himself comfortably captivated by the episode as they watch Charlie going over to Nick’s house, playing in the snow with Nellie the dog, and taking selfies. It’s all very wholesome, and despite the sappiness, he’s starting to see why Gwen is so obsessed with this show.

At some point, Merlin makes grabby hands towards the coffee table to have Arthur pass him the crisps, which in turn reminds Arthur of his open pack of Jammie Dodgers, and they both dig into their snacks.

His mood falters a little when Nick’s mum voices her approval of Charlie. Uther would’ve said the exact opposite about Merlin — had said the exact opposite about Merlin many times. He pushes the memory aside. Uther’s vitriol never stopped him from being friends with Merlin, so there is no reason to dwell on it.

It stopped you from other things.

The thought feels like ice, and Arthur has to suppress a shudder as he wills it away. Still, a sliver of unease clings to him while he watches Tao argue once more that Nick is definitely not interested, telling Charlie how Nick is supposedly in love with Tara.

The feeling only grows worse as Charlie’s friends keep insisting that Nick is straight, while Nick develops an increasingly obvious crush on Charlie as the episode goes on. And good god is it obvious. The smile on his face when he notices that Charlie has fallen asleep beside him during a film is nothing short of besotted.

Nick’s gaze drops from Charlie’s face down to where Charlie’s hand is lying on top of the blanket, palm up and relaxed in sleep.

A sudden surge of anticipation makes Arthur’s breath stall.

He licks his lips and shoots a quick, nervous glance at Charlie’s face, before cautiously moving his own hand to hover above Charlie’s.

Animated sparks fly from the tiny glowing space between their palms.

Arthur’s eyes widen—

After barely a second, Nick hastily pulls his hand away, crossing his arms as he heaves a tense breath, gaze trained up at the ceiling for a long moment. When he turns back to Charlie, there is nervous fear written all over his face.

Charlie is still fast asleep.

Come on, Arthur thinks, sitting up straighter without really meaning to.

Nick swallows before looking back down. Slowly, hesitantly, he lifts his hand to inch it back towards Charlie’s. Despite the tension radiating off him, he doesn’t pull away immediately this time. Instead he hovers there, flexing his fingers above Charlie’s palm as he stares at their barely separated hands with bated breath.

The sparks return with a crackle of drawn stars and lightning bolts, glowing light swelling in tune with the soft music.

Arthur’s skin crackles with those sparks, anticipation clenching his gut. A part of him is suddenly very aware of the heat of Merlin’s legs, mere millimetres from his feet.

Nick drops his hand.

“Aw,” Merlin mutters.

Arthur deflates, the tension abruptly broken.

Releasing his held breath, he sinks back into the cushions as an odd sense of relief flickers through his disappointment. He has to suppress the urge to draw up his knees, to remove his tingling feet from where they are not-quite-touching Merlin’s thigh.

Before he has a chance to properly process any of that, the show cuts to Nick shrugging on his jacket.

“You look so cuddly like that.”

Charlie glances down at himself. “Do I?”

Nick gives a soft chuckle and nods. “Yeah.”

His smile falters into something vulnerable. He continues to stare at Charlie for several seconds before his hesitance snaps. With two strides he is in Charlie’s space, wrapping his arms around him in an almost desperate hug.

That. Yeah, that—

An ache swells in Arthur’s chest, sudden and strangely familiar. At the edge of his awareness Merlin’s presence blazes like a beacon, even as he finds himself unable to look away from the screen. Away from the longing in Nick’s face.

There is an insight there, a realisation on the tip of Arthur’s tongue. But then it ends — with a hasty goodbye just as abruptly as it had started — and whatever Arthur had been about to understand slips away before he can grasp it.

He blinks a few times in an attempt to clear his head. It only partially works, and he can’t quite shake the feeling of something lingering just beyond his reach.

Arthur swallows, unsure whether he even wants to know. Perhaps he is more invested than he thought.

The second episode ends in obvious pining, with Nick grinning dopily at photos of Charlie on his phone, and Arthur does not think about how he used to scroll through Merlin’s sparse Instagram. Really, he doesn’t.

“That really is a universal gay experience, huh,” Merlin says as Nick hits enter on a Google search reading “am I gay?”

Arthur merely grunts and quickly shoves another Jammie Dodgers in his mouth to avoid a more elaborate response while the episode credits roll.

Privately though, he has to agree with Merlin. The way Nick’s happy, smitten smile morphs into a frown is all too reminiscent of how Arthur felt when he himself first began to question his sexuality. Because he remembers this — remembers the paralysing fear of what it might mean if that terrible thought turned out to be true.

Though perhaps Nick’s fear isn’t quite as paralysing as his own had been. It had taken Arthur years before he dared to actually entertain the idea consciously enough to look into anything related to it. And even once he managed that step, it stayed an excruciatingly slow process as he doubted himself at every turn, still desperate to escape a conclusion that went against everything his father had raised him to believe. It had been Merlin’s fault, really; Merlin who had slowly dismantled Uther’s prejudice ingrained in Arthur’s mind simply by existing as a gay man at Arthur’s side, in Arthur’s life. It had been Merlin who kicked loose the first stone that would roll and roll to eventually cause an avalanche.

Just like Charlie gets the first stone rolling for Nick, Arthur thinks unbidden. Except unlike himself, Nick isn’t hesitating. Nick isn’t taking years. No, he just goes for it, jumping off the deep end the way Arthur never would’ve dared.

Would Merlin have behaved differently? If someone had said to him that they don’t think Arthur is straight, maybe—

Arthur mentally cuts himself off before the rest of the thought can spell itself out. The lack of it echoes like a muffled cry in his head, and part of him is sure Merlin will hear it — that Merlin will notice, will know somehow because he is sitting right there barely a metre away and there is no way he won’t notice.

But Merlin doesn’t spare him so much as a glance, his attention fully focused on the beginning of episode three.

“Poor Nick. Look at him, he’s all upset,” he says with a pitying pout.

Falling back on old instincts, Arthur pushes his rising panic aside and replies with a steady voice, “At least he’s only reading about homophobia, rather than hearing it first-hand.”

Shit. He didn’t mean to say that.

As expected, Merlin promptly turns to frown at him. His eyes bore into Arthur’s with such intensity it seems like he can see right inside Arthur’s mind for one long, torturous moment. Then his expression softens, though the hint of a gentle smile is quickly replaced by a sarcastic sneer.

“Yes, well, we can’t all have front row seats to Uther Pendragon’s A-plus parenting.”

The quip startles a surprised laugh out of Arthur, and a tight knot of pent-up tension dissolves under his ribs.

“A true privilege,” he shoots back, making Merlin snort. The familiarity of the exchange feels like returning to solid ground, which gives Arthur a chance to regain his bearings and somewhat calm the frantic whir at the back of his mind.

“He gives me Val vibes,” Merlin says after a minute, raising his chin to point at a sleazy boy speaking to Nick outside the school gate.

Arthur grimaces, which is all the agreement Merlin needs, judging by his laughter. Not that he’s wrong, Arthur quite agrees with Merlin’s assertion; Val is exactly that sort of spoiled brat, flaunting his money as if it is a royal title that makes him better than everyone else. Even the boy’s quasi-order that Nick should bring “cool people” along to his — clearly outrageously lavish — birthday party that weekend could just as likely have come from Val’s mouth.

Rich twat.

Arthur can’t help rolling his eyes when Imogen promptly appears at Nick’s side like a moth drawn to flame, vying for an invitation to Rich Twat’s party. His amusement falters mere moments later.

“What— Why would you actually invite her?” he protests, gesturing at the TV where little hearts pop up around Imogen’s head. “She’s crushing on you, you twit, don’t encourage her!”

“Bold of you to assume he notices that,” Merlin chortles.

Arthur shoots him a glare, gesturing at the TV again. Because honestly, Imogen could hardly be any more obvious, all flustered and delighted and suddenly shy as if she doesn’t expect Nick to actually invite her. And yet Nick seems oblivious.

“Still, he was pining over Charlie not two minutes ago, why would he invite someone else now?” Arthur insists a little petulantly.

Merlin shrugs. “They’re friends, he probably didn’t even think about it in that way. Don’t pretend you would’ve been any smarter, you were just as slow on the uptake back in school, if not worse.”

“Bullshit,” Arthur begins, then pauses to catch the locker room chatter between the other rugby teammates.

“And Nick is gonna have his pick of two girls,” drawls Rich Twat.

“Who’s the other girl?”

“Imogen, obviously. Everybody knows she fancies him.”

Arthur flings his arm out towards the TV with an indignant, wordless shout, because he may have been clueless but he was never that thick. Not even at sixteen years old.

Merlin, however, promptly mimics Arthur’s gesture of pointing at the TV along with shooting Arthur an exaggeratedly meaningful look, complete with high-raised brows and comically wide eyes, as though Nick’s feeble protests prove his point.

“If you’re not into Imogen, then Saturday night’s your chance with Tara,” Rich Twat leers. “That’s all I’m saying.”

Charlie frowns at the ground as the other boys cheer and whistle, before chancing a hesitant look over at Nick who falters under the attention.

“Yeah. Maybe.”

“Oh come on!” Arthur exclaims with an exasperated groan. Charlie’s subdued expression brings back that persistent sense of unease in his gut. It’s impossible to ignore even as he reflexively leans into the safe, controllable feeling of annoyance at Nick’s reluctance to assert himself properly.

Merlin hums and absently pats Arthur’s ankle the same way he has countless times before. A small gesture, deeply familiar through years of habit, to placate and appease without words — except now Arthur’s skin blazes beneath Merlin’s palm, and there is absolutely nothing familiar about it. The touch, though gentle as ever, shoots through Arthur like a charged current.

And then it’s over, Merlin’s hand back in his own lap, and all that remains is a faint echo of electric heat tingling across Arthur’s skin. Somehow Arthur manages not to move, while also resolutely refusing to think about why it’s so important that he doesn’t. Instead, he stays put as he echoes Merlin’s approval of Nick asking Charlie to come to the party.

Seeing Charlie’s excitement about the invitation, he can’t help but wonder how Merlin feels. How he felt back in their school days when Arthur was invited to party after party. Of course he brought Merlin along more often than not, but it never felt as significant as this. Could it have?

Too late now.

“Tao and Elle are so gonna be a thing,” says Merlin.

Arthur forces the bitter thought aside and makes an assenting noise as he focuses back on the show, where Charlie arrives at the venue. Things seem to be going well, until Rich Twat — whose name is apparently Harry — crops up again far too soon to force Nick into a conversation with Tara.

The obvious dismay on Charlie’s face sparks sharp anger in Arthur’s gut. How hard can it be to tell the stupid twat ”No”? It’s not like Nick would have to proclaim himself gay to tell Harry that he’s hanging out with his friend and to leave them alone.

“I don’t really feel that way…” Nick stammers.

“Nick, it’s fine,” Tara laughs. “I don’t feel that way about you either.”

Nick’s relief is palpable. “Yeah.”

Tara sighs. “All of this could have been avoided if I just…”

“What?”

“Told everyone I’m a lesbian.”

“Well, yeah, but um—” Nick furrows his brows. “I guess that’s not something you’d really wanna lie about.”

“Wouldn’t be a lie,” Tara replies with a shrug.

“Aww, good for you, Not-Gwen!” Merlin cheers, and Arthur has to smile despite the sting of envy in his chest. Good for her, yeah, to be able to just say that so easily.

“Her name is Tara.”

Merlin flicks a crisp at him. “I know that, you prat.”

Arthur bats it away with an outraged huff and raises a warning finger. “Don’t start.”

Merlin grins.

“Merlin.” Arthur sits up straighter, pulling his legs up and away from him. The distance is a cold relief.

“I’m not doing anything!” Merlin protests, blue eyes sparkling with mischief. He laughs at Arthur’s narrowed eyes and repeats, “I’m not doing anything, now stop glaring.”

He turns back to the TV, traces of his grin still lingering on his lips.

Arthur watches him with a healthy dose of suspicion for another moment before doing the same. Of course, Charlie has disappeared in the meantime, but Arthur is delighted to see that Nick actually tells Rich Twat to shove it this time and goes looking for Charlie. As he should.

If it were Arthur, he would never let Merlin fend for himself at a party like that. Even now, the rare times they go out to an actual club, he always makes sure to keep Merlin in his sight, just in case he manages to magically attract trouble of some kind. As such, Arthur isn’t exactly surprised when Charlie bumps into Ben, even as the mild worry in his stomach flares with nerves.

“No, don’t play his games!” Merlin protests.

Arthur grunts his agreement, silently cursing Nick. It takes Charlie shoving Ben into a wall and telling him to piss off before he can breathe easy again, but the relief quickly turns sour when Imogen throws herself at a visibly uncomfortable Nick on the dance floor.

“How obtuse can you be,” Arthur grumbles, irritated.

“Him or her?” Merlin asks with a teasing grin.

Either. Both.

Arthur only shrugs, glad when Nick leaves Imogen behind rather quickly. His mood lifts as they watch Tara and Darcy kiss under rainbow lighting, radiating so much joy it makes Arthur’s throat grow tight. On screen, Nick watches them too, standing there utterly transfixed and wearing an expression of pure wonder. It’s an achingly reminiscent emotion, that almost disbelieving wonder at the mere idea of queer couples experiencing happiness.

At last, Nick spots Charlie again, and Arthur can’t keep himself from rolling his eyes at how helpless and confused Nick seems about Charlie having left. He has the slightest bit more sympathy for Nick’s dismay upon hearing about Charlie’s run-in with Ben, but can’t help but feel a little smug for knowing Cenred never got another chance to go near Merlin after Arthur intervened the first time. Not that it’s really the same, but still.

“I’m so proud!” Nick squeezes Charlie’s hand, and doesn’t let go of it again.

Charlie stares down at their linked hands, then at Nick, a bemused smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

Unbidden, Arthur’s eyes flick over to Merlin, whose attention is in turn wholly on the show, eyes glittering with excitement. Ignoring the hitch in his breath, Arthur hastily looks away.

“It’s kinda noisy in here, isn’t it?” Nick says, looking out into the crowd with a slight frown.

Charlie follows his gaze, and the wheels are visibly turning inside his head. He looks back at Nick with a smile and nods. “Yeah.”

“Shall we go somewhere quieter again?”

Charlie’s smile widens a bit as he scans Nick’s face. His reply is a little breathless. “Okay?”

Arthur’s heartbeat has kicked up several notches all of a sudden. There’s a nervous buzz in his stomach, a premonition of something momentous.

Nick rises to his feet, still without letting go of Charlie’s hand. “Come on.”

He tugs Charlie through the crowd until they reach the door leading to the staircase, then turns back to ask, “You want to race?”

“Oh, you want to race me?”

“No, no, no—”

Charlie laughs, and takes off, sprinting up the stairs. “Come on!”

For some reason, Arthur feels as breathless as Nick is after running up several flights of stairs in pursuit of Charlie. Why can’t he breathe? He doesn’t dare to glance over at Merlin again, suddenly terrified of… He’s not entirely sure of what.

He’s so preoccupied by the sudden fear squeezing his lungs, he hardly registers the mildly mocking remarks about Rich Twat renting out an entire hotel for a birthday party. Hardly registers Nick sitting down beneath a window, or Charlie settling down beside him. And then Charlie speaks, and Arthur’s attention is yanked brutally back to the show.

“So… was Harry being serious? Do you like Tara?”

Impossibly, given how fast Arthur’s heart is already hammering, his heart rate doubles.

“What? No! No, definitely not!” Nick shakes his head vehemently.

Charlie’s lips quirk into a fleeting smile, and he releases a quiet, tense sigh. “Uh…” He hesitates, and Nick shifts anxiously.

“So,” Charlie continues, looking back over at Nick, “you don’t have a crush on anyone at the moment?”

Arthur holds his breath, hoping his inner turmoil isn’t obvious on his face. He’s transfixed, unable to look away for so much as a second. At the back of his mind, a rather frantic part of him keeps wondering what Merlin is thinking.

Nick drops his gaze into his lap, a mild furrow appearing between his brows. “Well… I didn’t say that,” he replies, meeting Charlie’s eyes again.

Charlie’s eyes widen, then his face falls a little. A few seconds of tense silence tick by, then Charlie asks, “What’s she like then?”

“You’re just going to assume they’re a ‘she’?” Nick says. His smile is nervous.

Charlie gapes at him. He stammers a little as he asks, “Are they… Are they not a girl?”

Say yes! Arthur wants to scream. But Nick averts his gaze once more and only manages a shaky “Um…” in response. Arthur can’t even blame him, he’s terrified just watching it happen. If Merlin had started this conversation with him when they were in school, Arthur probably wouldn’t even have admitted that he had a crush at all, let alone that it wasn’t on a girl.

It takes Charlie a moment to gather his courage. “Would you go out with someone who wasn’t a girl?”

“I don’t know.” Nick pauses. Frowns. “Maybe.”

Charlie exhales a shaky breath. He doesn’t look at Nick. Slowly, he shifts his foot just a little closer. Places his hand flat on the floor between them, next to Nick’s. Not touching, but only just.

He’s visibly nervous when he raises his gaze towards Nick again. “Would you kiss someone who wasn’t a girl?”

Arthur’s heart thunders in his ears.

“I don’t know.” Nick looks troubled as he says it. Afraid.

Somehow, it’s enough for Charlie to stay brave. To slide his hand that last little bit closer, until their pinkies are close enough to touch.

Tiny animated sparks spring from the point of contact.

Nick is visibly overwhelmed, but he meets Charlie’s hopeful gaze regardless.

Charlie asks, “Would you kiss me?”

All at once, Charlie is Merlin, and it’s Merlin who’s asking, and— It hits Arthur like lightning.

Nick doesn’t reply immediately, but he hooks his little finger more firmly under Charlie’s. Finally, they meet each other’s eyes again, and he nods.

“Yeah.”

It’s Charlie who closes most of the distance, moving slowly as if to give Nick time to change his mind. He doesn’t. The kiss is hesitant, no more than a cautious meeting of lips.

Merlin lets out a whooping cheer, startling Arthur into looking over despite his best efforts. His breath catches at the sight.

Merlin’s cheeks are flushed pink, his lower lip caught between his teeth as he intently keeps his eyes on the TV.

They kiss once. Twice. Then they both pull away, eyes fluttering open to stare at each other, stunned.

Neither of them says a word as they shift back to their original positions, averting equally insecure eyes.

Arthur forces himself to breathe. It’s more difficult than it should be, and he settles for breathing quietly instead of deeply. Is his face hotter than usual? His heart feels like it might beat out of his chest any moment.

After a few moments of charged, anticipatory silence, Nick takes Charlie’s hand. Their eyes meet.

There is far less hesitation this time. Charlie wraps his free hand around the side of Nick’s neck, while Nick pulls Charlie closer by his shoulder.

Hand-drawn flowers swirl around them as they kiss languidly for long moments, the music building to a proper melody.

It carries Arthur with it as he stares, mesmerised. He registers nothing else, not even Merlin’s reaction, even though the part of him that always thinks about Merlin is begging him to please see whether Merlin is reacting to this as strongly as he is.

Because it’s them. It’s not really them, but it is to Arthur. It’s Nick and Charlie, but all Arthur sees is him and Merlin. All at once, nothing has ever felt so right as this. Except this isn’t real. It isn’t truly them — somehow, they have missed their mark.

It should be them. He wants it to be them. The acknowledgement of how much he wants this is like the final piece of a puzzle clicking into place, and realisation hits.

Fuck.

He is in love with Merlin.

Finally the music crests, and ebbs away as the kiss comes to a gentle end.

They linger close for a moment, just breathing.

“You okay?” Charlie asks, a tiny smile lifting the corners of his lips.

No, Arthur isn’t okay. He’s the opposite of okay; he’s in love with Merlin!

“I…” Nick begins.

Before he can find his words Harry’s voice sounds from the hallway. “Nick, are you up there? I just want to talk, mate.”

The interruption shakes Arthur out of his panicked paralysis as much as it startles Nick and Charlie out of their bliss. He seizes his chance and does what he does best: he shoves his feelings down, banishes them to the deep confines of his mind, and forces his attention towards the first available alternative.

Nick scrambles to his feet. Charlie watches him move away with wide eyes.

“Why are you hiding?” Harry calls from outside, sounding impatient.

“No!” The word slips out before Arthur can catch himself. He resolutely ignores Merlin’s eyes on him, keeping his glare firmly directed at the screen. Don’t, he thinks, both a warning and a plea — as if Nick might hear him and listen. As if he himself might. Don’t fuck this up.

For a moment, Nick hesitates, looking down at Charlie.

Then, without a word, he turns and leaves.

Leaves Charlie sitting on the floor beneath a window in an empty room. Alone.

“Idiot,” Arthur snarls as searing anger floods him, and he has to bite the inside of his cheek to keep himself from spewing any more curses. He seethes through Nick’s stilted conversation with Rich Twat, wishing he could reach into the TV to punch the brat himself.

When Nick walks back to the room, Arthur already knows what he will find, and he’s proven right mere seconds later. Somehow, seeing the dismay on Nick’s face makes it worse. This is Nick’s own fault!

If Arthur were given such a chance, he would never throw it away like that. Fuck.

The scene cuts abruptly to Charlie shutting the door of his father’s car.

“Hey. Hey you okay?” Charlie’s dad asks.

Charlie gives no reply, merely a minute shake of his head. For a moment he struggles with himself, then his laboured breaths turn to quiet sobs.

His dad pulls him into a hug, murmuring comforting words as Charlie cries into his shoulder.

A pang of sorrow pierces Arthur’s fury, and it drains away like water vanishing into cracked desert earth. Reflexively, he swings his gaze to Merlin, almost expecting him to be crying too.

There are no tears on Merlin’s face. But where his posture was open and relaxed only minutes ago, he now has his arms wrapped tightly around his torso, his knees pulled up close rather than stretched out in front of himself. His forehead is etched with a deep crease between furrowed brows, and the tension in his jaw matches the way he presses his lips into a firm line.

Arthur wants to say something, only he has no idea what. An apology? No, what would he even apologise for? Arthur isn’t Nick, he hasn’t done anything. Some expression of sympathy? Also no, because just like Arthur isn’t Nick, Merlin isn’t Charlie.

Anything he can think of sounds wrong. Worse, anything he can think of makes it painfully obvious that he’s been thinking about them as Nick and Charlie. What if Merlin hasn’t? What if Arthur is the only one having terrible, terrible realisations here?

He says nothing. It aches, but he swallows it.

Charlie mentally replays asking Nick if he would kiss him, but Nick says no. A knock on the door startles him out of the daymare and he continues to brush his teeth.

“Charlie! Can you get the door please?” Charlie’s mother calls from off-screen. “It’s probably the postman.”

“Fine, one sec!” Charlie spits out the toothpaste and rinses his toothbrush, then hurries down the stairs. He opens the door and freezes.

Outside in the pouring rain, breathing heavily as if he’s been running, stands Nick.

“Yes!” Arthur hisses, at the same time as Merlin exclaims the same thing. They look at each other, startled, and Arthur promptly feels his face heat. He quickly looks away, vaguely noting Merlin to do the same out of the corner of his eye.

His heart keeps racing as the credits for episode three roll through.

Chapter Text

Nick apologises before the title card for the fourth episode even appears. Only for not texting Charlie rather than for running away, but Arthur takes it for a start. The tension between Nick and Charlie as they awkwardly stand in the doorway before finally heading up to Charlie’s room is captivating enough that Arthur manages not to think of anything else.

Curse Gwen for being right; it is a really good show.

“Uh… So—” Nick begins, but Charlie cuts him off.

“I’m so sorry.” He doesn’t meet Nick’s eyes, head bowed even as he takes a step closer.

Arthur can’t help but mutter angrily, “No, you idiot!”

Merlin snorts, and that really shouldn’t make Arthur’s insides tingle as if he had swallowed butterflies. But he can’t think about that now.

“I’m so sorry,” Charlie repeats miserably, still looking anywhere except at Nick. “It was… I didn’t think properly about what I was doing and… It was a stupid thing to do, and I don’t want you to feel awkward about it, because it was all my fault.”

“Charlie, hang on—” Nick tries, moving towards Charlie.

“I shouldn’t have kissed you.”

Ouch.

Nick stops in his tracks. He looks devastated.

Arthur feels the dismay as if it were his own. He refuses to think about that too.

“I bet you just felt pressured to do it because I asked,” Charlie barrels on, not noticing Nick’s expression, “and now you probably don’t want to talk to me ever again, but I at least had to say sorry. See if maybe there’s a chance we can still be friends?”

“Charlie—” Nick takes another step.

“I don’t want to lose you because I did something stupid.”

“Charlie!” He grabs Charlie’s face, forcing Charlie to finally meet his eyes, and for a moment they just stare at each other. Charlie fearful, Nick seeming almost lost.

Arthur holds his breath. He vaguely notices Merlin leaning forward in his seat, vaguely registers that he’s doing the same.

Determination settles in Nick’s gaze. There’s no hesitation when he leans in and kisses Charlie soundly.

Like the first time around, Merlin cheers, clapping his hands together once. He’s grinning at the TV like a maniac.

Arthur can’t help but grin as well.

Though the kiss is shorter than the last one, it feels no less important. The same animated flowers twirl across the screen, the music a twinkling echo of the melody from the last episode.

Nick pulls back, looking almost shocked at what he has just done.

“Um…” Charlie watches him with big, confused eyes.

“God.” Nick takes a step back, struggling for words. He exhales a quivering breath, shakes his head. “I’m so sorry, I…” He turns and sits heavily on Charlie’s bed. “I’m just so sorry I ran away last night.”

“Good,” Arthur snipes. But as Nick goes on to explain how confused he is, the righteous indignation gives way to something not unlike… envy. Nick is so much braver than Arthur was at that age. It took Arthur months of silent agonising, before he finally—and very overly casually—mentioned anything of the sort to Merlin.

Now listening to Nick, he wishes he had been this honest with Merlin when he first started questioning his sexuality. Maybe he could’ve had this.

The want hits Arthur like a punch to the stomach. He desperately pushes it away and focuses back on the show, where Charlie is hugging a crying Nick, comforting him silently.

“At school,” Nick says as they’re standing down in the foyer again, “is it okay if we, like…”

“Keep this a secret?” Charlie finishes for him.

Guilt and regret are written all over Nick’s face, but he nods. “Yeah. I just don’t really know if I can, uh… You know. Come out as anything.”

Charlie gives him a gentle smile. “Yeah. It’s fine.”

“What?! No it’s not!” Arthur protests. “Look at him, he’s clearly unhappy!”

Merlin shrugs. “It makes sense that Nick needs a bit more time. Coming out is a big step, and he only just started to figure things out.” He shoots Arthur a chiding look. “Don’t pretend like you’d be ready to come out just like that if it were you.”

Arthur vehemently refuses to think too much about that comparison, and argues instead, “He seems to be pretty certain about wanting Charlie.”

“Still.”

Arthur scoffs, but doesn’t argue further.

Charlie runs out into the rain calling after Nick, who pauses and turns in surprise.

“Hi,” Nick says, as Charlie comes to a halt under the umbrella he’d given Nick.

“Hi.”

Confused, Nick asks, “Did I forget something?”

Charlie looks over his shoulder, like he’s checking if the coast is clear. “Um…” He turns back to Nick and, with a small nod, replies, “Yeah,” before promptly leaning in for a firm kiss.

Arthur’s heart swoops, his blood rushing with a thrill. A bittersweet ache swells under his ribs, more and more until his chest feels as if it’s about to burst like the heart-shaped fireworks drawn into the scene. It takes him a second to realise what he feels is longing.

“Okay. Bye!” Charlie turns on his heels and runs off without giving Nick a chance to respond.

Nick stares after him with an astonished smile, letting out an incredulous little chuckle. His smile settles into happiness as he turns and, after collecting himself for a moment, walks away with a spring in his step.

The happiness on Nick’s face is burrowed inside Arthur, too, and it only makes him yearn even more.

“Adorable,” Merlin coos, looking positively delighted.

Arthur nods. “Mhm!”

It comes out as more of a squeak than a hum, but Merlin doesn’t comment on it—if he even noticed. Arthur has never been so glad for how easily distracted Merlin is, as he takes a few deep breaths to get his racing heart under control.

By the time he manages, the scene has switched to Imogen joking around with Nick, playfully ruffling his hair.

“If she could just back off, that’d be great,” Arthur complains. “He’s as good as taken!”

“She doesn’t know about that,” says Merlin.

It’s a fair point, and Arthur hates it.

“She would, if Nick just got over himself,” he mutters, quiet enough that Merlin doesn’t hear. Because what he hates even more is that he knows all too well that Merlin’s earlier point is just as valid. Coming out is a big step. It took Arthur years to get where Nick is after only a few months.

Too long, he thinks as he watches the two boys grin at each other in class.

He’s glad when the show cuts to a scene at the girls’ school, and he can laugh at Merlin’s amused commentary about Tara finally being brave enough to kiss Darcy hello in class. And he does not think about how Tara’s courage to move forward only makes Nick’s hesitation feel worse, nor about how Gwen came out almost two whole years before himself.

The show returns to Charlie and Nick meeting up in the art block for lunch, joking about ditching their friends for Charlie to get rugby tips as they hold hands under the table. It’s sickeningly sweet.

“If you don’t like them, why don’t you drop them already?” Arthur grouses when Nick muses how nice it is to be able to ditch his idiotic friends for once. “You can just choose to eat with Charlie.”

“Bet Tao would love that,” Merlin replies.

“I’d rather deal with Tao than Harry.”

“Fair point,” Merlin concedes.

Arthur spreads his hands like there you go, grinning when Merlin rolls his eyes. Then, with a teasing smirk, he tacks on, “He can’t be any worse than Will.”

“Oi!” Merlin protests, but he joins into Arthur’s laughter only a second later. Even now, six years later, Will hasn’t quite warmed up to the idea of Arthur being Merlin’s friend, despite the fact that Arthur has de facto been Merlin’s best friend for the majority of those six years.

They both focus back on the TV when the scene switches to rugby practice, and Charlie not being quite brave enough to tackle his opponent. The way Nick frowns at the other boys’ disparaging comments, yet remains silent, ticks Arthur off again immediately. It doesn’t help that Charlie is visibly disheartened when the coach comes to speak to him.

“It’s all about confidence,” says Coach Singh.

“Well, it’s hard to be confident when they all see me as a stereotypical gay boy who can’t do sports,” Charlie retorts.

Coach Singh’s brows tick up, and she gives him a look. “A lot of gay people are good at sports, Charlie.”

“Yeah!” Arthur exclaims, clapping his hands together. “Come on, Charlie!”

Merlin snorts and shakes his head.

Arthur points at the screen, where Charlie is now practicing tackles on his own, knocking down a dirty yellow dummy over and over. “See, that’s the spirit!”

“See, if he simply refused to join the stupid team from the start, he wouldn’t have to deal with this crap,” Merlin replies, rolling his eyes.

“Just because you can’t make it ten metres without tripping.”

“At least I won’t have cumulative brain damage from too many blows to the head in a decade.”

Arthur lobs a pillow at him, and Merlin laughs, bright and happy. It washes over Arthur like a fresh breeze, and his chest swells with tickling satisfaction that, he realises all of a sudden, is not new at all. He always liked to hear Merlin laugh—to be the one to make him laugh.

The pillow hits him in the face as it comes flying back, snapping him out of the thought. He sputters in mock-outrage, silently grateful for the distraction as they continue to bicker. They only fall silent once the show cuts to Elle reassuring Tara and Darcy, who are the talk of the school following their public kiss at Harry’s party.

“Tara, I need to talk to you,” Imogen announces as she walks up to their table in the cafeteria.

“Oh god,” Tara mutters under her breath. Then, louder, she says, “Hi, Imogen, what’s up?”

Arthur glares at the TV. “She really is just a nuisance, isn’t she?”

“At least she hasn’t said ‘lesbian’ like it’s a dirty word yet,” says Merlin. Still, he cheers when Darcy shuts Imogen down. “Yeah, you tell her Darcy!”

“Alright, fine, I was just asking,” says Imogen, like her questions weren’t intrusive as hell. “Like, just so you know, Nick and I are basically together, so I just needed to check.”

“Excuse me?!”

“You and Nick Nelson are together?” Elle asks incredulously.

“No they’re not!” Arthur exclaims, but Imogen nods and doubles down by showing a selfie of herself and Nick on her phone. The irrational urge to rip it out of her hands and smash it is so strong, Arthur has to put his own phone aside lest it ends up as a stand-in.

“So, you and Nick are definitely not—”

“I’m a lesbian!” Tara snaps.

“Hell yeah!” Merlin claps his hands together.

Imogen hesitates. “I’m not, like, homophobic. I’m an ally.”

“Oh, shut up,” Arthur groans, and he’s glad that Tara and Darcy seem to share his sentiment of being thoroughly fed up with Imogen.

Merlin, however, bursts into giggles. “Wow, iconic.”

There is nothing iconic about Imogen in Arthur’s opinion. “Iconic?! She lied about her and Nick being together!”

“I agree that she’s jumping the gun quite a bit,” Merlin replies, still sniggering. “But that was hilarious.”

“Ridiculous, more like,” Arthur grumbles, crossing his arms to sulk.

Thankfully, the show then moves on to Tao and Isaac having lunch outside, and Merlin shuts up.

It’s not even two minutes before Arthur can’t help himself. “See, if Nick didn’t ask Charlie to keep it all hush-hush, Tao wouldn’t have to be so worried either.”

“I don’t think Tao would be all that mollified if he knew, to be honest,” Merlin counters sceptically.

“It’d be better than lumping Nick in with those idiotic rugby lads.” Arthur gestures at the screen, where Harry just chucked a ball at Tao’s head, earning laughter from the whole group except for Nick.

“You okay?” Nick asks as he approaches Tao. He looks supremely uncomfortable, and not just a little guilty.

Tao straightens, the ball under his arm, and glares. “Yes.”

“Can I have the ball back?”

Tao holds it out, only to pull back when Nick moves to grab it. “No. It’s mine now.”

Resigned, Nick turns away while his so-called friends laugh and jeer in the background. He makes it as far as two steps, then Tao flings the ball at the back of Nick’s head.

More mocking laughter from the rugby lads.

“Assholes, why does he still hang around with them at all?” Arthur grouses. “He should just drop the lot.”

“Drop all his friends, because Tao is being so much nicer to him. Right.”

“Yes! He has Charlie.”

“It’s not that easy.”

“It was for me.”

Merlin gives him a look that Arthur can’t fully read, but it makes any further argument stick in his throat. He suddenly feels naked, like he has revealed too much, and he hastily looks away, hoping his discomfiture isn’t too obvious on his face.

The next few minutes pass Arthur by in a blur. He hardly registers that Charlie is forced to lie to Darcy when she asks about him and Nick, barely listens to Elle snapping at Tao for his pessimism as the much anticipated rugby game is getting into full swing. By the time he manages to regain some resemblance of calm, rain is streaking down onto the field, Harry is egging Charlie on to go all in against an opposing player, and the music is getting increasingly tense.

It happens in a flash. One second Charlie is running, the next he’s curled up on the wet grass with his hand cupped protectively over his bleeding nose.

“Charlie!” Nick shouts. But he doesn’t go to him. He only stares, frozen, standing opposite the line of onlookers at the edge of the field. Charlie’s friends. Tara and Darcy. Imogen and Ben with a group of faceless classmates, some of which are laughing.

There’s a flashback to their conversation in Charlie’s entryway; “Is it okay if we, like…” — “Keep this a secret?” — “Yeah.”

Coach Singh is shouting over the rain that the match is over. Someone helps Charlie to his feet and leads him off the field.

And Nick does nothing but watch.

“Coward,” Arthur snarls before he can catch himself. He feels Merlin’s gaze on him, and stubbornly sets his jaw as he turns to meet it. “Secret or not, he should have helped. What the fuck is he that afraid of?”

Merlin doesn’t say anything for a moment. In the background, Nick awkwardly checks on Charlie in the infirmary, while Merlin studies Arthur intently, his forehead creased with a frown.

Arthur’s nerves are buzzing under the scrutiny, but he doesn’t look away. Because Nick is acting like a coward. Nick already has Charlie—could have Charlie at least—and he’s messing it up for no good reason!

When Merlin finally speaks, his voice is iron. “There’s plenty to be afraid of about being outed before you’re ready. Charlie understands that.”

It’s like being doused in ice water. Arthur opens his mouth to say something—defend himself, apologise, anything—but Merlin turns away and fixes his eyes firmly back on the TV before he can manage so much as a sound. Guilt slams into him with all the force of a freight train, yet part of him remains stubborn. He didn’t mean it like that!

His conflicting feelings churn in his gut as he tries to focus back on the show. Charlie is apologising, but Arthur swallows first his protests, then his approval when Nick apologises in turn. He swallows his irritation when Nick runs away after Isaac walks in on them, all the while a small, annoyingly reasonable part of him grudgingly accepts that he was far worse than Nick is. He just wishes he had been better. He wishes he had never been scared of any of this. Maybe then he and Merlin—

Imogen is waiting with the other rugby lads when Nick walks out of the building. Everyone’s eyes are on her and Nick as she compliments his performance in the match—despite the fact that their team was losing before the game was called off, as Nick points out.

Finally noticing that something is off, Nick asks, “What’s going on?”

“I…” Imogen stammers, visibly nervous. Nick’s face begins to fall as it dawns on him what is happening. “I… wanted to ask you, um…” She cuts off with a nervous laugh. “Like, this is really random. But maybe we could, like… go out somewhere. Together.”

Nick stares at her in overwhelmed shock, while the rugby lads jeer quietly in the background.

“Like, I guess sort of a… date. Or something,” she finishes. Somehow, she looks almost as terrified as Nick does.

Arthur actually has to bite his tongue to hold back an angry curse. The sharp pain clears his mind a little, but it doesn’t quell the disdain festering like bile at the back of his throat. If she ruins this—

No, he thinks. This time, Nick has to say No.

“Oh. Um…” Nick flounders.

“Go on Nick,” Harry needles, the other rugby lads laughing like this is the best entertainment of their lives.

Nick looks around as if searching for an escape, but of course there is none, and Imogen is still gazing up at him out of fear-wide eyes. He caves.

“Yeah. I guess so, sure.”

The tang of iron floods Arthur’s mouth after he bites his tongue a bit too hard this time. He soothes the wound against the inside of his cheek, reaches for his drink to wash down the few remaining drops of blood.

Out of the corner of his eye, he catches a glimpse of Merlin, who is still resolutely not looking at him. His lips are pressed into a tight line as he pays far too close attention to the episode credits.

Arthur shoves a biscuit into his mouth just to feel justified in remaining silent. It tastes like cardboard drenched in sugar, chased by a faint metallic aftertaste.

The tension in the room goes beyond what’s happening on screen, beyond Arthur’s anger at Imogen and Nick. Somehow, this is between him and Merlin now, and Arthur doesn’t quite know how they got here.

Except he does. Because it’s always been about them, hasn’t it? Because he’s in love with Merlin.

Oh hell, I’m in love with Merlin.

The impact is no milder when the realisation hits him a second time. In fact, it’s almost worse, because Tao and Charlie bickering about Monopoly isn’t nearly interesting enough to let Arthur distract himself. His desperate attempts to shove it all back down into a deep, dark corner of his mind, where he doesn’t have to deal with it, fail miserably.

Fuck, what is he supposed to do? He has no idea how Merlin feels, but given that they’ve been best friends for almost seven years, and Merlin never so much as hinted at being interested, the most likely assumption is not the same. Unless… Unless Merlin never showed any interest because he thought Arthur wasn’t interested—couldn’t be interested.

But no, he came out well over two years ago; Merlin was literally the first person to know that Arthur is bisexual. If Merlin was interested, he would’ve said something. Done something. Right?

A memory springs up in Arthur’s mind, startlingly clear save for a faint shadow around the edges, as though his brain is trying to imitate the stupid flashbacks of the TV series:

Him and Merlin, standing in the very room they’re sitting in right now, except there’s no furniture. The guy from the housing agency giving them two sets of keys and a copy of their rental contract, before waddling out the door. Merlin turning to look at Arthur with a beaming smile and sparkling blue eyes, and Arthur’s heart skipping a beat as he grins back.

Fuck, he really is as oblivious as Merlin thinks him.

But how could Arthur have known?! They’ve always been like this, almost from the very beginning. Best friends.

Granted, Arthur never had a best friend before Merlin, so he has nothing to compare to, but he knows the bloody concept. Or so he thought at least. Now, he’s not so sure he got the concept entirely… right? Did he misread things between himself and Merlin in the beginning? Was Merlin giving him signals then that Arthur was too blind to see?

In hindsight, every little interaction seems significant. Meaningful. Or it’s just wishful thinking, Arthur can’t tell. He completely misses the first several minutes of episode five because he’s too busy dredging up memory after memory in search of anything obvious enough to give him certainty.

He comes up with nothing. At least nothing he can trust, because even he can tell how it’s all filtered through the lens of his realisation that he’s in love with Merlin. He suddenly remembers small details of conversations he never actually noticed in a conversation before, so chances are that his rose-tinted brain just invented them for him. But… What if it’s real?

“Watch out, dicknozzle!” Tao snarls, shoving Harry angrily.

“You alright, mate?” Harry taunts.

Arthur’s attention finally snaps back to the TV, and he’s relieved to hear Nick telling Harry to stop picking on people. Of course, that’s when Harry plays the “are you gay for them” card, which silences Nick quite effectively despite Arthur’s internal chanting of say yes say yes say yes! Why did people in TV shows never listen?

Tao isn’t silenced, though; he calls Harry a rich bell-end, and Arthur swallows a satisfied noise as Tao storms off with Charlie in tow. The high only lasts for a few moments, then his satisfaction puffs away into nothing when Charlie tells Tao he shouldn’t have done that.

“I know you’re trying to help, but you’re making things worse.”

“I’m sticking up for you,” Tao retorts. “We have to show Harry that he can’t just walk all over us.”

Arthur silently agrees, even though he’d rather it was Nick who defends Charlie so fiercely. At least in this, Arthur did better than Nick Nelson; he always defended Merlin. Not that it was necessary all that often, once everyone knew that picking on Merlin meant picking a fight with Arthur.

A smile tugs on his lips, but it’s fleeting. If only he’d done half as good at figuring himself out as he did at protecting Merlin. Instead, he wasted years trying to convince himself he was straight, all because—

On screen, Nick’s mother enters the Nelson’s kitchen where Nick is staring at his phone, making only a distracted noise when she asks how his day was. Arthur almost expects her to berate Nick. She doesn’t, of course—she’s not Uther—asking what’s wrong instead like a decent parent. And Nick tells her. Just like that, without much hesitation, not a hint of fear in his face even though he’s not bothering to hide his feelings in the slightest. Focused entirely on his own confusion and unhappiness.

“A lot of people are expecting us to get together,” Nick explains, “but I don’t think I like her like that.”

“You shouldn’t go out with someone because you feel sorry for them,” Nick’s mother replies.

Arthur knows that this is the norm, nothing unusual; this is how it’s supposed to be. He knows that, intellectually. Yet it still feels extraordinary to him, and the fact that it does makes his stomach twist with anger and jealousy. The anger is nothing new; he’s been angry at Uther for most of his life, though it admittedly reached new heights after he finally accepted his own bisexuality. He’s used to the anger—it’s the jealousy that takes him aback with its intensity.

What if he’d had a mother like this? What if Ygraine hadn’t died, what if she’d been the one to raise Arthur? What if she’d been kind?

Who could he have been if he grew up with someone in his corner?

A familiar ache rises in his chest, and he pushes the thought aside. He didn’t grow up with his mother, he grew up with Uther. There’s no changing that.

He blinks his eyes back to focus in time to see Nick winning at bowling. He’s missed an entire scene again, all caught up in his head. It takes him a few seconds to reconstruct what approximately happened, and by the time he’s mentally actually with the show, Charlie has walked away to use the bathroom.

“I’m going to talk to him,” Tao announces to Elle.

She quirks an eyebrow. “About?”

Tao gives her a look and understanding dawns on her face. “Tao. Tao, no. It’s his birthday.”

“I have to,” Tao insists, and walks away.

Oh no. Arthur doesn’t like this one bit. As angry as he is at Nick, both for asking Charlie to keep things secret and for agreeing to that stupid date with Imogen, the thought of this whole thing going wrong, of Nick losing Charlie before he even really had him—

He swallows around a knot of desperation in his throat. Nick has to fix this, before it’s too late. He has to, because—

Because Charlie is Merlin, and Nick is Arthur, and if Arthur can’t have Merlin, Nick at least needs to get Charlie. Arthur isn’t sure he can take it if he doesn’t.

He doesn’t dare to breathe as he watches Tao tell Charlie about the date with Imogen, barely relaxes when Charlie argues back that it can’t be true. It is true. Arthur knows it is, and he hates it.

The camera cuts back to the rest of the group, then follows Nick through the arcade as he goes to get more snacks, and Arthur realises what’s going to happen only a handful of seconds before Tao’s and Charlie’s muffled voices drift from the TV speakers. He can’t even blame Nick for turning away from the counter and approaching the restroom doors like a moth drawn to flame. Dim red light spills on Nick’s face when he pushes the doors open a crack right as Tao says, “I just don’t like seeing him mess with you.”

“Do you really think he’s messing me around?” Charlie asks after a pause, sounding far less sure than through the beginning of their argument.

“I mean,” Tay hedges, “that’s what it looks like.”

“But… He’s…” Charlie looks devastated—Nick looks devastated and terrified. “He’s… my… friend.”

The mix of relief and disappointment on Nick’s face nearly reignites Arthur’s anger at him, but it’s outweighed by the desperation still clinging to his lungs. Nick can’t lose Charlie.

Arthur can’t lose Merlin.

Nick has returned to the counter, turning when Tao and Charlie exit the restroom, hands shoved in his pocket.

“Ugh! Just go,” Tao mutters and walks away.

Charlie approaches. “Hi.”

“Hi,” Nick echoes, and it comes out a bit choked.

“Are you getting more food?”

Nick stares at him for a moment, dismay etched into his soft face. Then he surges forward and wraps Charlie in a hug.

Breath flows back into Arthur’s lungs like he’s breaking through the surface after being underwater for too long. The screen lights up with neon strings of yellow and blue and magenta that swirl around the two as they hug, and the smile Charlie buries in Nick’s shoulder rekindles a spark of hope in Arthur’s stomach. Nick hasn’t lost his chance.

Arthur tenses up again only a minute later, watching Nick and Tao sitting next to each other in mostly tense silence while the others are bowling.

Finally, Tao snaps. “I don’t know if this thing with Charlie is a joke, but for some reason, he really likes you, and you’re messing with him. And I will not tolerate it, so consider this your final warning.”

Nick stares at him, terror written plainly on his face. He swallows, fear shifting into guilt as he slowly drops his gaze.

“Yeah,” he manages, looking back over at Tao, who is still glowering at him. “You’re right.” A beat of pause. Then he adds, “You’re a good friend.”

“I know.”

As terrified as Nick seems, Arthur thinks Tao actually let him off quite easy. Gwaine would probably have roughed him up at least a little. Hell, Gwaine would probably lose his shit if Arthur ever dared to make a move on Merlin. Oh god, Gwaine can never find out about Arthur’s feelings or he’s a dead man.

It’s almost ironic. Until now, Gwaine’s protectiveness of Merlin was one of Arthur’s favourite things about him—one of the few things they fully agreed on, aiming twin glares at any guy trying to hit on Merlin… God, Arthur is an idiot, isn’t he?

His attention is drawn back to the show when Nick admits that he overheard Charlie and Tao in the bathroom. The breath trapped in Arthur’s throat releases with a soundless sigh of relief when Nick actually apologises, despite Charlie acting like there’s no need to. While he still hates most of Nick’s reasons—seriously, why should Nick care whether his stupid mates are confused, it’s none of their business anyway—at least he’s being honest with Charlie.

“I wish I’d met you when I was younger,” Nick says, face scrunched up in a frown.

“Yeah?” Charlie breathes.

“Mmh. I wish I’d… known then what I know now.”

And fuck, if that doesn’t hit the nail on the head. God, how Arthur wishes he’d known sooner. Maybe he could’ve had a chance.

The mood in the show lightens as Nick gifts Charlie a framed picture of the two of them, which immediately reminds Arthur of similar gifts him and Merlin have exchanged over the years; several of them are on display in the very living room they’re sitting in.

For the first time since Merlin snapped at him at the end of the previous episode, Arthur risks a glance to the side—he needs to know if Merlin has noticed it too—and his breath catches when he finds Merlin looking not at the TV, but the picture frame sitting on the bookshelf. A picture of them.

Then Merlin’s eyes flick towards Arthur, and he hastily drops his gaze before he’s caught staring. His heart races in his throat.

Merlin noticed, had the same thought as Arthur. What does that mean? Does it mean anything? Just because he noticed, doesn’t mean Merlin is making the same parallel as Arthur; maybe he considers a framed picture an entirely platonic gift. Just like Arthur did until this very moment.

He’s so distracted, he barely registers the kiss on screen—right in the middle of the arcade!—or the text Nick sends Imogen. It isn’t until the camera cuts to a park in broad daylight that he snaps back out of it.

His heart sinks when Imogen shows up. Is Nick seriously going on a date with—

“Imogen, I…” Nick starts. “You’re a really nice person but… I don’t like you like that.”

Relief floods Arthur. Finally, well done, Nick.

He only realises he expected Imogen to throw a tantrum when she doesn’t. Not only that, but she listens to Nick’s fumbling elaboration about how he feels out of place with their friend group, never once trying to convince him otherwise.

Shame churns in Arthur’s gut as he watches her save Nick from Harry’s questions the next morning before school; he really judged her far too harshly. Her and Nick both.

He risks another glance at Merlin, suddenly very tired of the tension between them. Setting his pride aside, he clears his throat, and offers. “I guess he’s trying.”

Merlin whips around to look at him. “Oh?”

Arthur shrugs. “He did tell her the truth, even if it came a little late.”

“Mmh, that he did,” Merlin hums, a hint of amusement sparkling in his eyes.

And just like that, the tension seeps from the room as the episode credits roll, and Arthur doesn’t even think to fight the smile tugging at his lips. He realises his mistake the very next moment when Merlin smiles back, and—

Oh no. Oh hell, he’s breathtaking. As in, Arthur actually can’t breathe all of a sudden. He’s frozen like a deer in headlights, and fuck, he’s staring, isn’t he? He’s staring and Merlin is looking right at him with those brilliant eyes that always see right through him—

He tears his gaze away, surging to his feet before he can catch himself. With some effort, he manages to smooth his face into a hopefully neutral expression, before chancing a fleeting glance at Merlin as he clears his throat.

“I, uh—” He flounders for a painful second, having apparently forgotten the entire English language all of a sudden. “Bathroom.”

Very intelligent, Pendragon.

To his relief, Merlin doesn’t call him out on the sudden lack of brain cells, but easily agrees, “Yeah, a quick break sounds good.”

Arthur doesn’t need to be told twice; he takes his chance and flees.

Shit. That’s his first thought after the bathroom door is safely locked behind him. Shit, shit, shit—

Third time is not a charm as the realisation hits again: He’s in love with Merlin. Fuck, he’s in love with Merlin! What is he going to do?!

He paces the small space like a tiger in a cage, as every thought he’s had since realising his feelings for the first time rewinds and replays in his brain—with a whole wagonload of new ones piled on top. To call it overwhelming would be the understatement of the year.

Minutes tick by before he finally gets a grip on himself and dares to consider all his options. Some are more terrifying than others. In the end, it boils down to one simple fact:

Arthur can’t lose Merlin.

He never worried about that happening before, but suddenly the possibility seems far too plausible, and the thought alone is terrifying. Merlin would tell him that it’s alright, that it doesn’t change anything about their friendship and he doesn’t mind if Arthur’s in love with him. He would try to make that be the truth, too, but they’d both know. They’d never be fully relaxed with each other again, keeping just a tiny bit of distance until they’ve suddenly drifted apart so far they barely connect at all.

Arthur doesn’t think he’d survive that. He may already have lost his chance at that with Merlin, but he still needs him by his side.

There’s a knock at the door. “Arthur?”

His heart plummets. Fuck, fuck, fuck, he can’t face Merlin right now! Merlin knows him better than anyone, better than Arthur knows himself sometimes—he’ll see right through him in a heartbeat!

“Did you fall asleep on the loo again? It’s been twenty minutes,” Merlin teases, but there’s worry layered underneath.

“I’m not asleep!” Arthur protests, while spinning around to the sink to splash his face. The cold water isn’t as effective at clearing his mind as he’d hoped, but it does ground him a little. It’ll have to be enough.

“Well, move your lazy arse then,” Merlin complains. “We have three more episodes to go, and it’s almost dinner time.”

Oh no. No, no, no, he can’t stay here for three more episodes! Frantic, he pulls his phone from his pocket and opens the first contact in his message list that isn’t Merlin.

“Didn’t you eat a whole bag of crisps?” he shoots back while he types out a quick message and hits Send. “You can’t possibly be hungry again already.”

Please, he begs silently, don’t leave me hanging now.

“You’re one to talk! But crisps and Jammie Dodgers aren’t dinner, so can we get a move on?”

It takes agonising sixteen seconds for Gwaine to respond, and Arthur could cry with relief when the text pops up on his screen. He sucks in a deep breath, pulls back his shoulders, and draws himself up to full height. He just has to get out of the apartment, he can do this.

“Actually,” he says, opening the door and marching right past Merlin without looking at him, “we’ll have to rain check the rest of the show. Gwaine managed to get into an argument with a group of Germans over football and could use some backup.”

“What?” Merlin asks, audibly taken aback. “You’re leaving?”

Arthur doesn’t turn around as he walks through to his room to grab his wallet. Thankfully he freshened up after training, so he doesn’t need to change. “I can hardly leave him hanging, can I?”

His gaze catches on Merlin’s face when he turns around, and his stomach drops at the sceptical frown he finds there, before quickly looking away. Yeah, he has to get out of here.

“Sounds rather serious,” Merlin hums. “Do you want me to come too?”

“No! What? No, no,” Arthur fumbles, acutely aware of how terrible of a job he’s doing at playing off his immediate reaction. He avoids Merlin’s eyes as he slides past him in the hallway and has to actively keep himself from rushing to his shoes sitting by the entrance. “We’ll be fine, Percival is on his way as well. Just—” He straightens from pulling on his trainers and chances a single glance at Merlin. “—have your dinner you were so eager for, I’ll eat at the pub. Gwaine is paying.”

Merlin’s expression darkens for all of a split-second, so briefly that Arthur isn’t sure if he really saw it. He must’ve imagined it, because Merlin only replies mildly, “Tell him he’s an idiot.”

“As always,” Arthur promises, then escapes outside before his heart can beat right out of his chest.

Gwaine graciously lets him knock back a pint before asking any questions. Not that it takes particularly long, but Arthur appreciates the reprieve nonetheless. He even manages to compose himself a little.

They each order another beer, then Gwaine finally fixes Arthur with a look. “So, are you gonna tell me what’s going on?”

Arthur cringes a little. How the hell is he supposed to explain that he’s hiding from Merlin of all people? “Going on? Why would there be—”

“Save the rubbish for someone who’ll believe it,” Gwaine cuts him off, just as their drinks are brought out. “You all but called a red alert. Those usually only happen when you’re stuck on a terrible date—and you weren’t on a date today, you were at home.” He picks up his fresh pint and points it at Arthur. “Something happened, and it’s something to do with Merlin; out with it.”

A beat passes as Arthur gapes at him in surprise—sometimes he forgets how smart Gwaine actually is underneath all the nonsense, they really don’t give him enough credit—then he deflates, swallowing the reflexive denial that’s already on the tip of his tongue.

“You know that show Gwen won’t shut up about?”

“Gwen won’t shut up about a lot of things. Which of the ten—”

“That queer romance thing on Netflix,” Arthur cuts in. “Heartstopper.”

Gwaine’s face does something interesting, shifting through several expressions too quickly for Arthur to parse, before settling on what Arthur recognises as carefully contained amusement. “Ah, I see.”

Arthur frowns. “What is that supposed to mean?”

Gwaine waves him off with a shake of his head. “You started watching it?”

“Yeah,” Arthur confirms, eyeing Gwaine warily.

“And now you’ve realised you’re completely and utterly whipped for Merlin?”

“Yea— Wait what?!”

“Took you long enough to realise it. You’re not exactly subtle, mate,” Gwaine says, patting his arm.

Arthur’s face grows cold with dread. Does Merlin know? Did he know before Arthur even figured it out?

His burgeoning panic must be written all over his face, because Gwaine smoothly adds, “If it’s any consolation, the only person more oblivious to your giant crush on Merlin than yourself, is Merlin.” He grins. “You might have to get a neon sign or something for the message to get through to him.”

“Message?!” Arthur hisses. “There’s no message! Gwaine, he can’t find out! Ever!”

For the first time that evening, the humour drops from Gwaine’s face. “What? Why the hell not?”

Arthur splutters. “Because! I can’t just—” He shakes his head. “No, absolutely not.”

Gwaine stares at him, incredulous. After a long moment of silence, he buries his face in his hands with an aggrieved sigh, muttering something under his breath, too quiet for Arthur to understand. When he finally raises his head again, his expression has shifted into one of stubborn determination—the kind that spells potential disaster.

“What are you doing?” Arthur demands, alarmed. His panic spikes when he sees Gwaine pull out his phone. “Gwaine! You can’t—”

“I’m only texting Gwen, you big baby,” Gwaine interrupts him. “Or maybe your sister, actually. It’s clearly necessary.”

Arthur snatches the phone out of Gwaine’s hands before he can pull away. “It is not necessary.”

“Mate, it definitely—”

“It isn’t.” Arthur stares him down, silently pleading for him to give in. “I’ll…think about it, alright?”

Gwaine’s eyes narrow. “Think about what exactly?”

Arthur swallows, the words heavy on his tongue. “What you…implied.”

“You’ll think about telling Merlin?”

He nods and does his best to ignore the hopeful part of him cheering at the admission. “Can we just get sloshed and forget this entire conversation ever happened?”

Gwaine studies him for a moment, then sighs. “Fine. But give me my phone back.”

“You won’t text Gwen? Or Morgana?”

“I won’t text anyone,” Gwaine promises with an exaggerated eye-roll.

“Thank you,” Arthur says sincerely.

Gwaine only rolls his eyes again and signals the waitress for another round.

They change the topic. They get drunk. Spectacularly drunk.

For a while, Arthur actually manages not to think about why they’re out drinking in the first place. Gwaine is a master of distraction if nothing else, an endless well of inane topics and questionable anecdotes.

All too soon, the waitress rings the bell for last round, and they chug their half-full glasses before swiftly ordering a final pair of pints. The waitress lets them hang about for another generous hour, for which Arthur thanks her with an equally generous tip when she does finally tell them to leave.

They tumble out into the street. The cool night air is a relief on Arthur’s sweat-dampened skin, and his mind clears just enough for him to realise how much he’s swaying with every step. He staggers to a halt beside a street lantern, leaning against it to steady himself while the world spins around him.

It only takes a few moments for the sensation to subside, but he knows better than to let go of his anchor yet. Instead, he tips back his head to gaze up at the sky as he sucks in a deep breath. The full moon hangs high and bright among the stars, bathing the dark firmament in pale silver. It is an ethereal sight.

Merlin’s face emerges in crisp detail from the ignored part of his brain. Morgana once said that Merlin is like the moon; Arthur gets it now.

He would love this, he thinks; Merlin loves anything he can write poetically about.

“You good, mate?” Gwaine claps a hand on Arthur’s shoulder, startling him out of his daze.

“Yeah, jus’ appreciating the moon,” Arthur explains. The words come out a little slurred despite his best efforts.

Gwaine raises a doubtful eyebrow, then he laughs. “Y’re so hammered, Pendragon. As you should be!”

He slings his arm around Arthur’s shoulders which destabilises both of them as Arthur loses hold on the street lamp. By some miracle they don’t fall on their faces, but it’s a near enough thing that they both burst out laughing after catching themselves. Arthur can almost hear Merlin laugh at him, too, as they continue stumbling down the street.

He has to show him that sky when he gets home; he can already see the smile on Merlin’s face, shining even brighter than the full moon. Even more beautiful.

Fuck, this is exactly what Arthur wanted to not think about, but he can’t help it. Because with alcohol dulling his fears, one question stands out above all: What if Gwaine is right? Maybe he should tell Merlin the truth. Maybe, even though he’s not as quick on the uptake as Nick fucking Nelson, it isn’t too late for them.

“Earth to Arthur, hello-o,” Gwaine calls, and by the way his voice is raised, it’s not the first thing he said.

“Hm? What?”

“Good lord,” Gwaine snorts, “are you actually that drunk?”

Arthur rolls his eyes, then shrugs. “I was just thinking about what you said earlier.”

That gets Gwaine’s attention. “Oh? And?”

He shrugs again. “I dunno.”

“Well, keep thinkin’, mate,” Gwaine says, giving him a clap of encouragement on the back. He seems almost proud, though Arthur isn’t sure of whom—Arthur or himself. Maybe a bit of both.

Maybe it isn’t too late.

The thought circles in Arthur’s head the entire way back home.