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“You won’t believe what Lance did today!”
“Oh yeah?” Arthur asked dryly, taking a seat beside his friend on the sofa.
Merlin had mentioned Lance’s name at least five times in every conversation he’d had with Arthur for the past two weeks. Considering the fact, Arthur talked to Merlin multiple times a day, an inevitable occurrence given they shared a flat together, that was a fucking ridiculous amount to talk about anyone.
It had all begun when Lance was granted a job as vet nurse at the local animal shelter Merlin volunteered at on weekends.
Arthur, frankly was sick of hearing Lance’s bloody name. Lance this. Lance that. It was as if he were a saint or something equally ridiculous. For all Arthur knew, Lance could be, as he’d never actually met Lance (and hopefully never would if he had a say about it). Arthur supposed Lance was tall, dark, handsome, all of that rubbish romantic comedies blathered on about. He was still holding out on the hope that Lance was suffering through the primitive stages of balding and had an abnormally large nose, or something along those lines.
“I didn’t hear my alarm go off this morning,” Merlin began. “And so I had to rush to work because I literally had twenty minutes to get there and make sure I didn’t look like someone who doesn’t give two fucks about his appearance. Which I most definitely do, just not this morning for obvious reasons. Anyway, the point is, I had no time buy a coffee on the way there. You know how I am without coffee so you can probably see where this is going.”
Arthur did know, far better than Lance did. Lance didn’t keep extra coffee inside his bedside cabinet in case Merlin exhausted their pantry supply.
“When Lance found out why I was so jittery, he went out and bought me one during his twenty minute break. He didn’t even buy one for himself! Isn’t that so nice?”
Arthur gritted his teeth. “So nice.”
If Arthur had been there he would’ve done exactly the same thing, Lance wasn’t so special! In fact he wouldn’t even had to ask why Merlin had been so jittery in the first place. He bet Lance had bought Merlin a regular coffee, not his favourite type, a flat white.
Arthur wouldn’t have made such a mistake.
“You have to meet him!” Merlin said, eyes bright, oblivious to Arthur’s conflicting attitude. “You guys would be such great friends!”
“I guess so,” Arthur replied, the flat nature of his tone conveying that he’d rather write a complicated essay on biophysics than meet the man in question.
Merlin’s brow furrowed, and he leant back against the sofa, crossing his arms. Arthur frowned, feeling guilty for being unable to, in the very least, pretend he could stand Lance. He didn’t mean to be so cold towards his friend, he just thought there was something suspicious about Lance du Lac, and he didn’t want Merlin to be taken advantage of.
Or something like that.
He had a good reason, he was sure of it.
“Or not. You don’t have to. I just thought…” Merlin trailed off, biting his lip.
Arthur sighed. “I just don’t think that would be a good idea.”
“Why not?” Merlin asked, ever inquisitive. “I don’t understand. You guys are both such amazing people and you both love Quentin Tarantino films and soccer, even if you do support different teams, so you’d have loads to talk about! He even said himself he’d like to meet you.”
Oh god, it just kept getting worse, didn’t it?
Could the world not just give Arthur a break for a minute or two? He had cash if that’s what they wanted, or his soul, that could work too.
Half of him felt incredibly guilty for thinking so terribly of someone who evidently didn’t think the same of him, and the other half of him was glowing from the knowledge that Merlin thought he was amazing.
Then it all came tumbling out, as if whatever was in charge of keeping his thoughts at bay had suddenly decided to commit mutiny. What bastards!
“He just sounds so… so perfect, okay,” Arthur stuttered. “And I don’t know how to deal with that! Meeting him would be too much.”
“Why would you…?” Then Merlin’s eyes widened. “Wait a minute. Are you jealous?”
“No of course not, why would I be…” Then a startling revelation made itself known.
It wasn’t Lance’s perfection that bothered Arthur. It was the fact Lance and his perfection was all that Merlin could possibly want. That it obliterated any chance Arthur had at being good enough for Merlin, at being the one who Merlin wanted.
Merlin, who saw the best in everyone regardless of what they’d done.
Merlin, who listened to his music too loud and would probably suffer hearing damage in his forties.
Merlin, who had the biggest and best smile out of everyone he knew.
Merlin, who was all Arthur had ever wanted.
Shit.
Mother fucking shit.
“Of course I’m fucking jealous,” Arthur said, voice now loud and clear in the wake of his unannounced epiphany. “When you keep going on about how perfect he is all the time, how can I not be? How could I possibly compete with that?
“Compete?” Merlin raised his eyebrows. “What do you mean?”
“Only one person can be your boyfriend. Unless you’re into polygamy that is, which is totally cool, but I’m pretty should you would have told me by now if you were. Are you?”
He knew he was rambling. His entire system was in panic mode. He wouldn’t be surprised if his system shut down entirely. It wasn’t built to withstand such uncertainty.
But then Merlin grinned, and it lit his whole face up, leaving Arthur’s head momentarily clear of all and any thoughts to make way for processing its beauty.
“You’ve got no one to compete with, absolutely no one at all,” Merlin assured him, the softness plain on his face and in his tone, chasing away any doubts Arthur had. “Lance is just a friend, maybe even one day a really close friend. God, if I knew you were interested in me, I would’ve done this ages ago.”
Then he leaned in and kissed Arthur, slow and sweet.
Arthur promptly forgot all about Lance and his perfect ways.