Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

It goes, more or less, like this:

It’s a cool summer night, and Merlin’s managed to sneak away from the party for exactly twelve minutes before he hears the back door open behind him and the rustle of footsteps on the grass. He sighs and stops from where he’d been trying to stack stray leaves on top of one another, leaning back on his arms.

“Gwen, I swear, I’ll be back inside in a few minutes.”

There’s a snort, which he flags immediately as distinctly not a sound Gwen would make, and Merlin tilts his head over his shoulder and squints.

“Oh,” he says. “It’s you.”

Arthur Pendragon unceremoniously drops himself onto the grass next to Merlin. There’s a bit of cookie crumb on the edge of his lip, which is as bothersome as it is strangely endearing. More so bothersome, Merlin thinks, as Arthur’s lips quirk into a smirk. “You know, I actually almost thought you’d left already. But between you and me, it kinda looks like you’re hiding.”

“Shut up,” Merlin grumbles, and goes back to trying to stack leaves. “I thought you were Gwen.”

“I could tell,” Arthur responds. He breathes in deep, and Merlin knows what it feels like—crisp, the end of summer just beginning to fade away, like the sticky-sweetness of ice cream melting on his tongue. “Why’re you hiding from Gwen?”

“I’m not,” Merlin says. He sneaks a glance back over at Arthur, and is surprised to find him looking back at Merlin. He turns away. “And why’re you out here anyway? It’s supposed to be your party.”

Arthur just shrugs. “You’ve been gone half an hour, Merlin,” he says simply. “Look, see how easy it was for me to answer your question? Come on, you can tell me. What’s got you all moody?”

“For the record, that did not answer my question,” Merlin huffs. “And I’m not being moody.”

“Now you’re just ignoring everything I’m saying,” Arthur says, amused. He bumps his knee against Merlin’s. “Or should I just go and look for Gwen, tell her where you are?” He cups his hands around his mouth, and starts to shout loudly, “Hey, Gwen—”

Merlin shoves at him, swatting Arthur’s hands away from his face. It only makes Arthur laugh, and he has to lean against his arm for balance. “Will you be quiet?” he hisses. “You’re such an ass.”

“Yes, Merlin, I know what you think of me,” Arthur waves at him dismissively, but he’s still grinning. “Get on with it, won’t you?”

Merlin groans, settling his hands down on his knees, his legs crossed. Distantly, he can hear the muffled sounds of voices and laughter coming from inside the house. “Gwen’s just been trying to set me up with one of her friends.”

“Oh,” Arthur says, sounding strange.

Merlin glances over at him. In the privacy of his mind, he can admit to himself that Arthur looks rather pretty like this, the moonlight as his backdrop and shadows softening his edges. Arthur and his watercolor blue eyes, Merlin’s always thought.

“That’s it?” he asks after a moment of silence. “Aren’t you going to make fun of me or something?”

That, at least, seems to snap Arthur out of whatever strange reverie he’d gotten himself into. Arthur blinks, coming back to himself. Then he smiles, a horribly familiar sight, and rolls his shoulders back. “Well, don’t tell me you’re afraid of going on a date, Merlin?”

Merlin rolls his eyes. “There it is. I can’t believe I asked for it.”

“What are you sitting out here for then?” Arthur asks. Then he adds, “Not interested?”

“Not really, no,” he confesses. “Gwen’s heart is in the right place, and I love her to death, don’t get me wrong, but she’s honestly got no idea what my type is.”

Arthur actually barks out a laugh. The sound startles Merlin, but he finds himself smiling a little too. Arthur shakes his head, and tilts his head, his gaze meeting Merlin’s own. Merlin tries very hard not to focus on the sharp angle of his jaw, and does not think about how it makes him feel.

“And what is your type exactly, Merlin?” Arthur asks, ever so casual.

Merlin glances at him skeptically. “You’re seriously asking me that?”

“What? I can’t be curious?” Arthur retorts back.

Merlin looks at him closer, trying to decipher whether Arthur’s kidding or not. To his surprise, Arthur seems honest, his body relaxed as he sits on the grass next to Merlin. No tension in his shoulders, no joke hiding behind his eyes. “You’re being weird,” Merlin says at last.

Arthur rolls his eyes. “It’s not weird to want to know your friend’s preferences, Merlin. If even Gwen doesn’t know, you’ve got to make sure at least someone gets it right.”

“And that someone is going to be you?”

Arthur tilts his head again, from the moonlit sky to Merlin. “Why not?”

Merlin stares at him in disbelief. “What do you mean ‘why not’? Why on earth would I tell you when you’re just going to make fun of me?”

At this, Arthur seems to genuinely look confused. “Why would I do that?”

“Because—” Merlin starts to say, suddenly struggling to find the words. “That’s—that’s what you’ve always done!”

Arthur frowns. Merlin has no idea what’s gotten into him.

“Arthur, in all the time we’ve known each other, you’ve made fun of literally every single guy I’ve dated,” Merlin points out. “You told Gilli—who I wasn’t even really dating at that point—that you’ve never seen anyone with a head as big as his.”

At this, Arthur at least has the decency to look the tiniest bit sheepish, but it’s ruined by the smirk that winds its way on his lips. “Well, he did have quite a large head, Merlin. Even you’ve got to admit that.”

Merlin can’t help the huff of laughter that leaves his mouth. “Okay, he did, but that’s not the point! You’re an asshole, is what I’m trying to say, so pardon me if that’s not information I feel like handing over to you. And what does it matter to you, anyway?”

Arthur purses his lips, seemingly in thought. It’s another thing Merlin tries not to stare at. “Look,” he says after a moment. “I’m not going to make fun of you, I swear.”

“I’ve heard that before—”

“Will you just listen for a second?” Arthur interrupts. Then he chews at his bottom lip, and lets out a long sigh. “I’m not going to make fun of you, because I don’t suppose I’ve got much of a leg to stand on right now, with the whole…dating thing, so,” Arthur says with a shrug. “Today’s your lucky day, Merlin. You get a free pass from me.”

“How fortunate,” Merlin mutters. Then, he says, “Wait. What do you mean? You’re having dating problems? You? Arthur Pendragon?”

“Christ, there’s no need to rub it in,” Arthur grumbles.

“But you’re always dating some girl,” Merlin says, staring at him. “There was Mithian, right, a few months back? Sophia, Vivian, then that sorority girl, what was her name—”

“Alright, I get it,” Arthur cuts him off. “This might come as a surprise to you, Merlin, but I don’t actually enjoy getting broken up with.”

“Mithian broke up with you?” Merlin says. “I did always think she could do better.”

“Shut up, Merlin,” Arthur says, rolling his eyes. “Anyway, that’s why Morgana’s been bothering me non-stop about this party.”

“She’s trying to set you up with a girl?” Merlin asks. “But isn’t it, like, not a good time? Since you’re moving away and all that.”

The party had been set up as a mix between celebrating graduating university and saying goodbye to Arthur, since he was moving to Nemeth to intern under his father’s company. This might be the last time he sees Arthur in a long time, Merlin realizes suddenly. Deep down, he’d known that, of course, but sitting here with Arthur makes it come alive. Not that they were ever particularly close, but—it feels strange to Merlin, still, to not find Arthur on the other side of a room or a party.

“Sort of,” Arthur replies.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Merlin questions, pulling his knees close to his chest.

Arthur stays quiet for a moment. Then he lets out a long breath, and tilts his head up towards the sky. “There is…someone I’m interested in,” he confesses, voice quieter than Merlin’s ever heard. “I know I should probably say something, but I don’t…” he trails off, before adding, the words so quick Merlin nearly misses it, “I don’t think they’re interested.”

Merlin looks back at him, stunned. “What?”

Here’s the thing about Arthur Pendragon:

When Merlin first met him, he thought Arthur was a pretentious, pompous dickhead, and rightfully so. Arthur was arrogant and mean and never managed to miss an opportunity to get on Merlin’s nerves. But Merlin was Gwen’s best friend, and Arthur still seemed to have some sort of crush on her back then (long gone now probably, since Gwen started dating Morgana last year—maybe the Pendragons had a type), and they’d eventually learned they had a lot of mutual friends. So they orbited around each other mostly, the first few times, never interacting too much because of the spark they caused, tensions and hackles raised. Merlin absolutely hated him, and Arthur felt the same, he was sure of it, because Merlin had to be one of the few people alive who didn’t fall for his charms.

And then there’d been the Halloween party. It was a year and half after they’d met, and Gwaine was hosting a party, so Merlin dressed up like an old wizard, pointy hat and wooden staff and everything, and Arthur—like the conceited prat he was—was dressed like a medieval king, which annoyed Merlin immensely. They mostly avoided each other that night, because Gwen threatened not to make pancakes anymore if Merlin picked a fight (which was totally unfair, by the way, because Arthur always started it, that horrid attention-seeker). It was a little after one in the morning when a brawl broke out, and Merlin wasn’t completely surprised to find Arthur at the center of it, knuckles and nose bloody and looking angrier than Merlin’s ever seen him. Cenred looked much worse for wear—there were bruises forming around both eyes and his nose was definitely broken. Lancelot and Percival had managed to break them up, and Mordred went to patch up Cenred, and Merlin found himself by Arthur’s side before he knew it, checking for injuries.

Arthur had been hesitant at first before Merlin reminded him he was studying to be a nurse, now stop being such a baby, and let me check you. He’d been fine, aside from a black eye and a cut to his cheek from where Cenred’s ring had lightly scratched his skin. Merlin had berated him for it, of course, because up until that point, that’s what they did—that’s how they worked. And then later, when the party had dispersed and Merlin sat with Arthur on the porch, Arthur had confessed that he’d only punched Cenred because he’d been making inappropriate comments about Freya, Merlin’s friend who Merlin was sure Arthur didn’t even really know, and not because he insulted Arthur, like Merlin had assumed. Merlin had felt something strange then, like he’d discovered Arthur a little more that night. After that, Arthur had thanked him for his help, smiling even, and it was that lopsided one that Merlin knew had all the girls falling at his feet, and well—Merlin had suddenly understood why, in that moment.

It was a silent truce, in all the days and months that followed after, disdainful bickering and insulting each other just as much, but only around the lines they knew the other would draw. And god, Merlin could take just as much as Arthur could give, and it was—thrilling, Merlin realized, to try and watch Arthur come up with something better. But it was even more electrifying when he managed to make Arthur smile, in defeat or in amusement, and an even bigger rush when Arthur laughed, tilting his head back and shaking his shoulders.

(He hadn’t known it then, but he’d look back, in a few years, maybe, and finally know why.)

So Merlin had understood. The impossible and irresistible allure of Arthur Pendragon, smug grin and glass-bright eyes, arrogance be damned. Merlin caught himself looking for Arthur at parties, always in that same orbit, and found him at the center of those nights, talking and arguing and knowing others were watching their lightning-fast verbal matches with both entertainment and horror. Gwen had told him once that it was always interesting to watch, because she’d never seen Arthur having so much fun. Merlin didn’t know what to make of that, only that he’d keep talking stupid if it kept Arthur looking at him like that.

And that brings him to now: because earlier that night, Merlin had found himself at the same place he always was, leaning against the wall and watching as Arthur went around the party, all the girls calling his name and trying to catch his attention like moths to a flame. It’s because of that he has a hard time believing what Arthur is saying, that there’s someone who isn’t interested in him. Anyone would want Arthur. It’s impossible not to want him.

Even Merlin wants—

“You never answered my question,” Arthur says, interrupting Merlin’s line of thinking.

“What?” Merlin blinks, focusing back to the present.

Arthur levels him with a stare. “Come on, Merlin, I told you my great big secret, and you still haven’t told me.”

“What…my type?” Merlin sputters, confused. “You still want to know that?”

“Would I still be asking if I didn’t?” Arthur retorts dryly. He still looks unfazed, and Merlin’s not completely sure with all the shadows dancing around them, but he thinks there’s just the faintest hint of pink on Arthur’s cheeks.

“I mean, I don’t…” Merlin bites his lip, feeling a bit awkward. “It’s not like a specific thing, I guess. But I don’t want someone boring, you know? Someone who can keep up with me. Someone who won’t mind being a little stupid with me. Someone who makes me laugh.”

“Someone who doesn’t have a giant head,” Arthur quips.

Merlin laughs, and Arthur’s eyes seem to light up, his smile satisfied. “Yeah,” he says. “Someone who makes me feel a little insane, I guess. Does that even make sense?”

Arthur nods. “Well, it’s not a typical list for sure, but I think I’ll let it slide.” He snorts at that. “And this…guy that Gwen wants you to meet, you don’t think he can be all that?”

Merlin sighs and shakes out his shoulders, stretching out his legs. As he does, his shoe bumps against Arthur’s, but neither of them move away. “No, I’ve already met him before. He’s a bit…dull? Is that mean to say? That’s definitely mean.”

“You’re mean to me all the time,” Arthur points out.

“That doesn’t count. You’re you,” Merlin says simply. “And what makes you think the girl you’re interested in doesn’t like you back? I have a hard time believing she could resist the great Arthur Pendragon’s rich boy charms.”

Arthur rolls his eyes. “Very funny,” he says. Then Arthur shifts, almost imperceptibly, but Merlin catches it, a nervous line to his usual ease. “It’s, uh, it’s a he. By the way.”

“Oh,” Merlin says, eyes going wide. “Huh.”

“What?” Arthur asks, his voice a bit defensive.

“Nothing!” Merlin says back, holding his hands up in surrender. Then he adds, light-hearted, “I don’t think there’s any chance he’s the same dull guy then, is there?”

That, at least, causes Arthur to huff out a soft laugh, the tension melting away from his shoulders. Merlin sits back, relieved.

“Nah, I don’t think so,” Arthur answers.

“Good, or else I was about to start questioning your taste,” Merlin jokes, and Arthur shakes his head, and Merlin watches him smile, licking his lips. Merlin looks away then, feeling like he’s been caught aflame.

“You should probably tell Gwen, though,” Arthur says, and at Merlin’s questioning gaze, he adds, “that you’re not interested.”

“Oh. Right, yeah,” Merlin says. He heaves out a sigh. “You’re probably right.”

“That’s a first,” Arthur muses. Merlin flicks a leaf at him, and Arthur laughs again. Merlin feels dizzy all of a sudden, which is weird, because he hadn’t even drunk anything earlier. Well, Arthur always did make him feel a little stupid.

“Do you leave tomorrow?” Merlin asks, and tries not to feel too dismayed when Arthur nods in reply. Why should he be? “That’s a shame. Though I guess it’ll be more peaceful around here, you know, without you going on and on about medieval trade routes or the economy or those god-awful cheesecakes you keep making me try.”

Though Merlin had aimed to be insulting, he finds he doesn’t mind when he catches Arthur smiling despite his words. It looks…almost fond, even.

“You can just say you’ll miss me, Merlin, I don’t think you’ll burst into flames,” Arthur says.

“And how would you know? My death would be on your hands then.” He can feel the heat between their legs, in the patch of grass dividing them into two. Merlin has a nagging feeling at the back of his head telling him it’s wrong. There shouldn’t be a space.

“I think I could live with that,” he retorts.

“And anyway, you’re the one who invited me to your own goodbye party,” Merlin tells him. “It sounds like you’re the one who’s gonna miss me.”

Arthur opens his mouth to retort to that, already mid-scoff, when the door slams open behind him, and Morgana steps out, hands on her hips.

“There you two are! Okay, I don’t want to know what you were doing, but Arthur, Percy and Elyan want to say goodbye to you before they leave, so you need to get a move on,” she says, looking pointedly at her brother. Then she turns to Merlin and smiles at him. When Morgana looks at him like that, it always makes him feel itchy, like she knows something he doesn’t. “There’s still some left-over cake for you, Merlin, if you want. Arthur made sure to pick a flavor you’d like.”

“Thanks,” he says, a little confused.

“Arthur,” Morgana warns, looking back to her brother.

“Alright, alright,” Arthur says, nodding. Then he does something peculiar: he glances over at Merlin quickly, the look on his face like he’s deciding on something. “I’ll be there in a second.”

This seems to appease Morgana and she nods before turning around and shutting the door to head back inside.

“Sorry,” Arthur says, actually sounding apologetic. “I guess I have to go in now, but—you’ll go back in too, right? Later?”

“I’m not going to leave without saying goodbye, if that’s what you’re worried about,” Merlin says, and he means it as a joke, but Arthur seems to look relieved by it. Huh.

“Okay, good.” With that, Arthur begins to stand, wiping off grass stains from his pants. He takes two steps forward before he turns right back around, and looks back at Merlin. Watercolor eyes, Merlin thinks again.

Merlin’s expecting him to come up with another insult, or maybe make Merlin swear to secrecy about the things they’d talked about, but what he says instead is:

“Do me a favor, won’t you, Merlin?”

Merlin looks at him right back. “Depends on what you’re asking.”

“Just…” he starts to say, a half-moon smile on his lips. “Never change.”

Merlin feels his mouth go dry. “I think I can do that.”

Then Arthur nods, turns around, and heads back inside the house. Merlin sits there in the grass, unmoving, eyes still on the spot where Arthur had been. He lets out a breath he hadn’t even known he was holding and places his hand on top of his chest, finding his heart racing.

The next part goes like this:

Merlin comes back inside the house and finds Gwen and tells her he appreciates her efforts, but he’s just not interested right now. Then Merlin, maybe out of habit, maybe out of something else he can’t name—something new—inevitably looks for Arthur. He finds him on the other side of the room, talking to Gwaine and a few other guys Merlin doesn’t recognize. Briefly, he wonders if the guy Arthur likes is here.

Then, Arthur’s gaze finds his.

There is a quiet moment then, where they just look at each other, a held breath. In that brief silence, in between a heartbeat and the next, Merlin feels the space between them, and thinks, maybe I will miss you after all.

Someone claps their hand against Arthur and he startles, turning his attention back to the conversation ahead of them. Merlin looks away, and there they are again, back to their usual orbit. He feels unmoored, unsettled, something buzzing inside his veins, like he’s hurtling towards something without knowing how to stop. It’s exhilarating, and Merlin feels absolutely insane.

But here it is: twelve minutes, enough for the kind of love that happens without noticing. The amount of time it takes for it to latch under the heart and dig so deep there is no uprooting it. Merlin pretends not to know nothing then, but even he feels something has changed. That, he will later learn, is the real impossibility of Arthur Pendragon.

Here are things Merlin knows:

1. In the months after the party, Merlin tries very hard not to think about texting Arthur, mostly because Arthur doesn’t seem to be going about texting him, either. Fortunately for Merlin, he gets a job at a nice hospital not too far from home and becomes busy enough to no longer have to think about it.
2. A year passes, and Merlin’s phone stays terribly quiet.
3. Now, two years after graduation, Gwen and Morgana decide to get married. There will be a dinner to celebrate. Merlin is, of course, invited, and is actually quite excited to spend some time with his friends after a particularly grueling shift, along with his day-off tomorrow. It’ll be fun, he tells himself.

Here is one thing he doesn’t:

1. Maybe he’s not the only one waiting for a message.

Merlin is running late.

He’s running late, because he’d decided to take a quick nap after his shift to rest, and his alarm hadn’t gone off properly. He’s already sent texts to both Gwen and Morgana, apologizing to them, and saying that he’ll be there soon. He’s just a block away now, trying to weave through the crowd of people walking. By the time he gets to the restaurant, he’s around twenty minutes late.

“Uh, I’m here with Guinevere Smith and Morgana Pendragon?” Merlin says to the hostess, who points him to a table over at the far right. It’s a fancy restaurant, with small chandeliers and warm, ambient lighting, and along with a few rustic touches, just enough to make it a bit more cozy.

Merlin makes his way to the table, and waves when Gwen spots him, smiling a little sheepishly.

“Merlin!” she exclaims, standing up immediately and rushing over to hug him, Morgana not far behind her with a smile and an embrace of her own. “I’m so glad you’re here!”

“Sorry for being late,” he apologizes, but Gwen waves a hand in dismissal.

“Oh, don’t worry about it, you’re hardly the only one,” she says, taking a seat. She gestures to the empty chair to her left for him to take. “Arthur arrived just a few minutes before you did.”

Merlin snaps his head up. “Arthur?” he says. “Arthur’s here?”

“Good to see you haven’t forgotten about me, Merlin,” a familiar voice drawls. Merlin turns around, then there he is. Arthur, with that smug smirk and golden halo. He’s got his arms crossed, looking quite satisfied at having caught Merlin off-guard. He turns to Gwen and says, “Sorry, just came from the bathroom.”

“Arthur,” he greets, feeling his heart start to pound in his chest. He doesn’t know why he feels nervous. He shouldn’t feel nervous. It’s just Arthur. Who he hasn’t seen in two years, and still looks as annoyingly and devastatingly handsome as when he left.

Well, shit.

“I didn’t know you were back,” he says, trying for a smile. He feels a little unbalanced—Merlin had always known where they stood before, but he’d spent a lot of time thinking about that night at the party (more time than he’d care to admit), and he came away from it thinking that something might have changed between them. He’s not sure what it is exactly, but he can’t help but wonder if Arthur thinks the same.

“Well, I could hardly miss my own sister’s engagement party, now could I?” Arthur moves to take a seat. Merlin tries not to look surprised when he sits down next to Merlin. “So I take it that you did miss me after all?”

Merlin scoffs. “You wish.”

He doesn’t really get to say much more after that because Lancelot calls for a toast for the happy couple and the food arrives not long after that. Truth be told, Merlin hadn’t realized how hungry he was. He becomes a little too preoccupied with his meal to join in on any of the other conversations with more than just an occasional nod, and tries to follow along on a conversation about football before he completely loses the thread and decides to give up.

He’s just finished his meal when Arthur leans closer to him, bumping their shoulders together. Up until then, Merlin had tried very hard not to stare at Arthur, which had always been a bit of a difficulty, but it proves almost near impossible now, with his mind trying to figure out what’s changed and what hasn’t. To his horror, Arthur looks even better than he did before, like he’d matured into his own pride, carrying himself less with conceited arrogance, but with a more refined form of self-assurance.

“So,” Arthur starts to say, voice low as the conversations around them drift away. Merlin can see them better now—his eyes haven’t changed, still the same sky-sea blue. “How have you been?”

Merlin shrugs. “Good, I guess. What about you? I didn’t know you were coming back.”

Arthur smiles, but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “I quit my job, actually. I moved back here last week.”

“What? Why?” Merlin asks. “Weren’t you working for your dad?”

Arthur grimaces. “That was the problem, actually,” he says, looking a bit pained. “I realized I wasn’t really…happy there. I was only doing it because my father wanted me to, and I—I don’t know, I figured it might be better to start fresh, but on my own this time.” He looks at Merlin. “You can laugh at me if you want, I know it’s probably a terrible decision. I had a cushy job, and I just gave it up.”

“No,” Merlin hears himself say. He’s never met Uther Pendragon, but he’s heard enough stories from Morgana to know that he and both his children have tricky relationships, and that Arthur’s always had a hard time saying no to him. “No, I don’t think it’s a terrible decision. I think I’m just…surprised. I didn’t think you’d have it in you. No offense.”

Arthur huffs a little laugh. “No, I think I deserve that. I didn’t think I did, either. Morgana’s actually the one who pushed me to do it.”

“Well, congratulations,” Merlin says, with a grin. He raises his glass to Arthur, who takes his own and clinks it against Merlin’s, a smile of his own resting on his lips. Merlin feels something kick inside his ribcage at the sight. “What’s the plan now then?”

“Find a job, mostly,” Arthur says humorously. “I’ve sent in some applications, and talked to people I’ve met on work trips, so I guess I’ll just have to see how it goes.” Arthur tilts his head to look at Merlin properly. “And what about you? You’ve yet to tell me how you’ve been, you know.”

Merlin shrugs, and takes a sip of wine. He looks around the room, a mix of voices around him, all friends he hasn’t seen in so long, and even longer for Arthur, he’s sure, but he can still feel Arthur’s eyes on him. “I thought Morgana would’ve told you.”

“Sure, but I was hoping to hear from you,” Arthur replies easily.

Merlin eyes him warily, looking for signs of teasing, but only finds genuine curiosity. Arthur surprises him, when he’s like that. “Not much to tell, really. I’ve been working at that new hospital on Sixth with Gwen. I got a new apartment near there too, and there’s this coffee shop with a killer latte I think I’m becoming addicted to. Oh, and I got a second cat. Her name is Aithusa.”

“And what was the name of your other cat again? Kilgharrah?”

Merlin blinks. “Yeah. You remembered.”

Arthur snorts. “How could I forget a name like that?”

“You used to make fun of it all the time,” he points out.

“Because it’s a stupid name, Merlin. For a cat.”

“What, as opposed to a dog named Cavall?”

“I’ll have you know that is a fine name for a dog—”

“Arthur, it literally means horse in Latin. You named your dog horse.”

Arthur laughs loudly at that, enough that it causes a few heads to turn. Merlin finds himself laughing back at him, and sees Morgana shake her head at the two of them, a curled smile on her lips and a twinkle in her eye. Merlin has half a mind to try and inspect that further, but then Arthur starts talking to him about an incident at his old job where a couple of rats had been released into the office space, which had caused Uther to throw a fit.

They talk a lot more, jumping into different topics fast enough that Merlin’s not really sure how they get there, but where Arthur is quick, Merlin is just as fast, a playful conversation with rapid remarks. Merlin almost feels bad for not really socializing with the others, but it’s Arthur, and even though they were never really friends, Merlin hasn’t seen him in years, and perhaps he really did miss him after all. And besides, Arthur doesn’t seem to have any qualms about it either—if anything, Merlin finds their chairs moving closer and closer, to the point their knees knock together but don’t move away. Merlin feels that point of contact like a thrill up his spine, and can’t help the way his heart pulls at the feeling.

Merlin almost doesn’t notice that it’s already time to leave, with most of the guests standing up and saying their goodbyes. He gets up almost abruptly, and Arthur follows, downing the last of his drink.

“Merlin,” Gwen says with a smile. “I’ll see you on Tuesday for lunch?”

“Wouldn’t miss it for the world,” Merlin tells her, pulling her into a hug.

Merlin heads outside, and stands near the windows, wondering if he should wait for Arthur, who’d gone to talk to Morgana after he’d gotten up. Instead of thinking about it, he fiddles with his phone, scrolling through his messages. There’s a few from his mum asking how he is, a couple from Will, and a few from his other friends at work.

He’s in the middle of texting his mum when he hears the restaurant door open, and Arthur comes out, looking around wildly.

“There you are, Merlin, I was worried you’d left already,” Arthur says, sounding just a bit breathless. “Heading home?”

“Yeah,” Merlin answers, switching his phone off and slipping it into his own pocket. “You?”

“You said you live near Sixth, right?” Arthur asks, and seems pleased when Merlin nods. “Mind if I walk with you then? It’ll be on my way.”

“Sure,” Merlin says. He tilts his head to the left and gestures for Arthur to come along with him. “So I guess you have changed.”

Arthur falls into step next to him. “What makes you say that?”

“Well, for one, you used to bring your car everywhere with you. Even that one time to the diner, do you remember? It was only, like, five minutes away, and you still insisted on driving,” Merlin tells him.

“It’s a good car, what can I say?” Arthur says back. “Is there a second thing?”

“You do seem less of an asshole,” Merlin says, quirking his lips into a smile. Arthur rolls his eyes. “But the jury is still out on that one. I’m still deliberating.”

“Oh, yeah?” Arthur says, knocking their shoulders together as they walk. “And what’ll take for you to reach a decision?”

“Hmm,” he hums. “I guess we’ll have to see, won’t we? I bet it’d make headline news: Arthur Pendragon, no longer an asshole. What’d you think?”

“You’re so stupid,” Arthur says, but he’s laughing anyway. They hit a stoplight, so Arthur seems to take the moment to look over at Merlin properly. Merlin pretends not to. “I guess you haven’t changed as much, though.”

“Well, you did ask me not to,” Merlin points out. He almost immediately regrets saying that, because who even knows if Arthur remembers, but then Arthur says:

“I suppose I did.” He smiles, just a small one. “You do look…you look good, Merlin. Better, I mean, than before.”

If Merlin blushes, he hopes he can say it’s just because of the cold. “I can’t believe you just complimented me.”

“Yeah, well, don’t get used to it,” Arthur grumbles half-heartedly as they start walking again. “I have been meaning to ask you something, though.”

They’re walking along the river bank now, a cobblestone road, and the air cooler around Merlin’s neck. The streetlights are a warm yellow, and the sounds of the city behind them are a bit muffled. It feels a little like the world is leaving them alone.

“Yeah?” Merlin says, kicking at a pebble.

“Whatever happened to that guy Gwen was trying to set you up with? I never did quite hear the ending to that story,” Arthur says casually.

Merlin snorts. “That’s because it never even happened. I told Gwen I wasn’t interested, so we never dated or anything.”

Arthur’s quiet for a moment, his footsteps slowing down by just a fraction. “But…are you, though?” he asks hesitantly.

Merlin turns to look at him, eyebrows furrowed. “Am I what?”

“Dating,” Arthur clarifies, pointedly looking away. He coughs. “Dating someone, I mean.”

Merlin blinks. He hadn’t been expecting that. “No,” he answers. “I’ve been on a few dates, but nothing ever really came out of them.”

“Too boring for you?” Arthur asks. He at least looks a bit embarrassed about the topic of conversation, but there’s just the tiniest hint of a smile on his lips.

Merlin just shrugs. It’s not that they were boring, per se; some of them had been quite fun, actually, and there was one guy who was really rather lovely. But they just hadn’t been what he was looking for.

“What made you ask?” he says to Arthur.

It’s Arthur’s turn to look surprised. He clears his throat. “Gwaine just mentioned that you guys were meeting up again tomorrow, so I was wondering if, you know, you and Gwaine were…dating.”

Merlin can’t help it—he barks out a laugh, and Arthur stares at him in confusion. It’s a bit adorable. “Me and Gwaine? No, definitely not. Did you really think…?”

“I just wanted to make sure!” Arthur defends, and Merlin watches as his face turns red under the streetlights. “You two were always close before, it’s not like it was a random idea!”

“We’re just going to try out this Mexican restaurant tomorrow, since we’re both free,” Merlin explains with amusement.

Arthur sends him a look. “That sounds like a date.”

Merlin crosses his arms. “It’s not a date, because Gwaine’s other reason for coming is that he thinks the waitress is cute and he’s going to try and get her number.” He almost wants to laugh at the look on Arthur’s face as the realization dawns on him. “And besides, I’ve got a bet going on with Lancelot that he’ll finally ask Percival out by the time the wedding comes around.”

Arthur looks absolutely mortified. “So you’re really not dating?”

Merlin resists another urge to laugh. “Not one bit,” he says, patting Arthur on the shoulder. “If it helps, we’ve kissed a few times, but that was a long time ago. We’re much better off as friends.”

Something complicated crosses Arthur’s face. “God. alright, I’ve embarrassed myself enough,” he says finally, shaking his head. Merlin laughs again.

“I can’t wait to tell Gwaine about this,” he says, cackling.

“Please don’t,” Arthur groans. He reaches for Merlin to try and knuckle at him, but Merlin manages to side-step and duck away in time. He snickers.

“No can do, I gotta,” he says to Arthur, who lets out a long-suffering sigh. “Hey, just remember, you’re the one that brought it up.”

“This is what I get for being curious about your life,” Arthur mutters.

Merlin bites his cheek to keep himself from smiling. “Well, what about you then? You had a giant crush on someone, didn’t you?”

Arthur turns flustered. “I wouldn’t call it giant,” he grumbles again, but the pink on his cheeks gives him away.

Merlin just grins. “Fine, you had a teeny tiny crush on someone. Did you ever tell them?”

At the question, Arthur turns to look at him, and Merlin’s breath gets caught in his throat. Suddenly, it’s like everything moves in slow motion. The streetlights paint Arthur golden, almost heavenly, all soft edges and sky-glass eyes. Merlin doesn’t think he’s ever seen anyone more beautiful.

Arthur smiles, small and soft, a strange look in his eyes, like a storm that hasn’t quite calmed down. A little bit pained and sad at the edges, a string pulled taut.

He shakes his head. “No,” Arthur says, his voice quiet. His eyes don’t leave Merlin’s once. “No, I had to leave without it.”

“Oh,” Merlin says. He’s not really sure what to feel. “But do you still—” He coughs, glancing away and feeling his cheeks warm. “Do you still like them?”

Arthur breathes out a soft laugh. He doesn’t say anything for a beat, just keeps looking at Merlin, a strange expression on his face. “Well, I guess it’s like you said. The jury’s still out,” he says. “But I’ve got a pretty good feeling I know the answer.”

Merlin feels like he should say something, anything, but he blinks and the moment seems to pass. Arthur finally glances away, taking a deep breath. But the look on his face is seared into Merlin’s mind now, the way he’d looked under the light, and Merlin can’t help but wonder if he’ll spend the rest of his life trying to understand what Arthur had been trying to say with his eyes alone.

“Arthur—” he starts to say, but feels the words die in his throat.

“Yeah?”

He swallows. “Nothing. Never mind,” he says instead. “Let’s get home, yeah? It’s getting cold.”

Arthur nods and follows suit, walking by Merlin’s side. He starts up another conversation about the time he’d accidentally walked into the wrong job interview, which, after jumping several hoops, eventually takes a left turn and morphs into a conversation about whether smooth or crunchy peanut butter is better with ice cream.

“Crunchy, definitely,” Merlin says just as they reach his block, turning at the street corner. “It balances out the texture of the ice cream better.”

“That depends on what ice cream you’re having. Like if it’s already got nuts in it, you’d just be adding in more nuts with the peanut butter,” Arthur adds thoughtfully.

“That’s a good point. There’s just too many factors,” he concludes. Then Merlin stops short of his apartment building, turns to his Arthur and rocks on his heels. “This is me.”

Arthur looks up at the building then back at Merlin, hands in his pockets again. He clears his throat. “Well, it was—it was good seeing you again, Merlin.”

“You, too,” Merlin says with a smile. He considers leaving it at that, ready to turn on his heel, but then Arthur looks soft again under the streetlights, and so he decides, why the fuck not. “I missed you,” he blurts out.

Arthur’s eyes widen in surprise.

“Alright, okay, good night, thanks for walking with me—”

“Merlin,” Arthur interrupts. Merlin looks at him, and finds that the surprised look had melted into a small smile. “I missed you, too, you idiot.”

“Oh. That’s good, then,” Merlin says.

“That’s good?”

“Obviously, to keep it fair,” he says with an eye roll. Then he bites the inside of his cheek, and says, “How come you never texted?”

Arthur blinks. “I didn’t know you wanted me to.”

Merlin feels very flustered. “No, it’s just that—I thought we were becoming friends, last time. And friends text each other, so.” He knows it sounds stupid, but he can’t stop himself from saying it.

“We are,” Arthur says quickly. “You know. Friends.” He rubs the back of his neck awkwardly. “And to be honest, I was kind of wondering why you didn’t either.”

“Oh,” Merlin says faintly. For a moment, he imagines Arthur the way he had been the last two years: lying in bed and hovering over Merlin’s contact, wondering if he should send a message. “I should’ve. I wanted to.”

“Yeah, me, too,” Arthur says. Then he breathes out a disbelieving laugh, shaking his head. “This is kind of stupid, isn’t it?”

Merlin grins. “Yeah,” he agrees. “I’ll see you around then?”

Arthur smiles, wide and honest, a genuine one that only ever so rarely comes out. Merlin likes that one the most. “I’ll text you. Good night, Merlin.”

“Good night, Arthur.”

With that, Merlin walks into the building and up to his apartment. He immediately heads for the window, and finds himself disappointed when it seems like Arthur’s already walked far enough to be out of sight. Then he shakes himself out of that thought, thinks to himself that he’s being silly, and decides to get ready for bed.

He’s just about to close his eyes when his phone beeps on his night stand. Merlin squints in the dark, trying to make out the words on the screen. And then his heart skips a beat. There’s a message from Arthur.

(12:34 AM) Arthur

Here’s your text. Made it home.

Merlin tries very, very hard not to smile.

(12:35 AM) Merlin

btw i can’t believe you admitted to actually missing me, thats so lame

(12:35 AM) Arthur

Shut up, I can still take it back.

(12:36 AM) Merlin

too late i know ur secret pendragon

Arthur doesn’t respond anymore after that, but it’s alright, Merlin thinks. He tries not to feel overly giddy about it, but the buzzing in his veins is back, a feeling in his chest that’s clawing at his skin, heart thundering like he’s standing on the ledge without knowing what’s on the other side. He’s unraveling under the thrill of it, whatever he has with Arthur, whatever it could be. It makes him feel a little insane, like a mad man on the loose, but also like the entire world just shifted and righted itself back into balance. It’s more than he’s felt in a long time.

And if Merlin falls asleep with his phone in his hand and a smile on his face, dreaming of watercolor blues and golden streetlights, that’s no one else’s business but his own.

(8:57 AM) Gwen

Merlin, have you seen my hair clip? I must’ve accidentally left it at yours last time.

(9:16 AM) Mum

Call me when you get the chance. I miss you!

(11:43 AM) Will

Shark Puppy just released a new album!!!! Let me know when you’ve listened to it pls

(11:57 AM) Gwaine

Hey Merls, I’m sorry, but i don’t think i’ll be able to come with you today there’s been a family emergency :( still down for Friday though!

(12:01 PM) Freya

OMG i can’t wait to see you next weekend! it’s been so long!

(12:16 PM) Merlin

hey gwaine just bailed on me do u feel like having some mexican food by any chance

(12:19 PM) Arthur

It’s really flattering to know I’m your second option

(12:19 PM) Merlin

please ur not even in my top 10

(12:19 PM) Arthur

But yeah Mexican sounds good

(12:26 PM) Merlin

great i’ll send u the address see u in 15?

(12:26 PM) Arthur

Sure

“So,” Morgana says in lieu of nothing, swirling the straw in her milkshake. “What’s going on between you and Arthur?”

Merlin blinks. “What?”

She raises an eyebrow. “You and Arthur.”

Behind her, the rest of the bridesmaids are chattering away, discussing hairstyle options for the wedding. They’re currently in the middle of Gwen and Morgana’s joint bachelorette party, which had started early in the morning with a very relaxing massage, followed by lunch at a five-star hotel that included afternoon tea, then bowling because Gwen was terrifyingly good at it, and lastly, dinner at the girls’ favorite diner. They’re meant to head to a bar downtown later to meet up with their other friends who couldn’t make it earlier in the day—that is to say, Merlin tries hard not to think about how Arthur will be there later.

“I’m not entirely sure that I do,” Merlin says, feigning innocence and munching on a chicken nugget.

Morgana rolls her eyes. “Come on, don’t play dumb with me. I know you know what I’m talking about.”

Merlin slurps at his own milkshake, and Morgana wrinkles her nose. “I think you’re gonna have to be more specific.”

She sighs impatiently. It serves her right, Merlin thinks. If she’s going to try and blatantly wheedle information from him, then he at least gets to be mildly annoying about it. “I’m talking about how you’re suddenly getting along so well. Not that it isn’t a good thing, it’s just… You never really did before.”

Merlin lets out a deep breath. “We’ve just,” he says, “agreed to be friends now.”

“And the flirting?”

“Flirting?”

She gives him a look, like it should’ve been obvious. “Yes, the flirting, as uncomfortable as it is for me to think about.”

“Arthur’s not—”

“Merlin.”

He groans, defeated, and hides his face in his hands. “I know.”

Here’s the thing: Merlin might have been a bit slow on the uptake, but he isn’t actually completely oblivious. He’s known it, deep down, that the way Arthur looks at him sometimes might mean something. They’d been hanging out a lot more these past few weeks and texting nearly all of the time. Merlin doesn’t really spend that same amount of time with anyone else, not even Will, who he’s known since he was a kid. And the things they say to each other—Merlin knows it’s different, somehow. It’s different with Arthur.

(And sometimes, like the time they’d gone out for sushi and then for some drinks, and Merlin had been laughing because Arthur was telling a story about one of his ex-girlfriends from high school, how she’d actually broken up with him on his birthday. Merlin still isn’t sure what compelled him to speak, but he’d gone and said, Well, what about now? Are you seeing anyone? Arthur had looked at him then, and without missing a beat, said, Not unless you’re interested, Merlin. And Merlin had just laughed, and hoped Arthur would think his cheeks were flushed from the winter air instead.

Or another time, when they’d been at Merlin’s apartment and sitting on the fire escape, and Arthur had gotten the call telling him he got accepted for a new job he really wanted. Arthur had smiled so big and wide, his face full of joy, it had made Merlin want to explode. Arthur’s eyes were bright and dark at the same time and Merlin didn’t really have the words for it, except for thinking that they were like the long wait for dawn, and that he wouldn’t mind, if it was like this all the time. If Arthur wanted it. Because he was starting to want it, too.

So really, he knows.)

“And?” Morgana prompts. “What are you going to do about it?”

“Nothing,” he answers, dipping a French fry in ketchup. “We’ve only just become friends. I don’t want him to turn around and go back to hating me.”

She rolls her eyes. “Please, Arthur never hated you.”

“No, he definitely did, remember? I was there,” he counters.

“Yes, and so was I,” Morgana says. “You did, maybe, but Arthur didn’t.”

“I don’t—”

“What’s this about Arthur?” Gwen says, sliding into the seat next to her fiance, kissing Morgana’s cheek. Morgana offers her the milkshake, which Gwen takes happily.

“Nothing,” Merlin says at the same time that Morgana says, “Gwen, do you think Arthur ever hated Merlin?”

“Of course not,” Gwen says almost immediately, which baffles Merlin. “And he’s flirting with you.”

He throws his hands up. “Does everyone think that?”

“Duh,” Morgana says while Gwen pats him empathetically on the back, nodding solemnly.

“You talk all the time. Every time I ask you to hang out when you’re on your day off, you’re already with him,” Gwen says with a bit of an amused smile. “Plus, didn’t he walk you home from our engagement party?”

“Wait, he walked you home that night?” Morgana asks suddenly, her eyebrows furrowing.

“Yeah,” Merlin admits, feeling a blush creep up on his neck like a sunburn. “Look, I know what it sounds like, but he said it was on his way home, anyway.”

“Merlin, he only talked to you that night! On his first night back seeing everyone else, too, mind you,” Gwen says, grinning.

“But Arthur asked me about parking,” Morgana seems to be saying to herself. “And he lives… oh. Oh, he’s good.”

“What are you talking about?” Merlin asks.

Morgana waves a hand in dismissal and smiles at him. It’s a little unnerving. “Nothing, never mind. I just got some memories confused.”

“Okay?” Merlin says, unsure. He’s got a nagging feeling she’s not telling him something, but before he can question her further, his phone buzzes in his pocket twice.

Morgana smirks. “Let me guess. Arthur?”

He shoots her a glare and fishes out his phone. “Shut up.”

Unfortunately for Merlin, she’s not wrong.

(8:56 PM) Arthur

Lancelot is a very sappy drunk.

When are you guys coming over?

(8:56 PM) Merlin

yeah and ur a very touchy one how is that any better?

and hang on lemme ask

(8:59 PM) Arthur

Am I? Funny, that only seems to happen when you’re around. I wonder what that’s about.

Merlin coughs, and very pointedly does not look at Morgana, who he already knows is feeling very smug. “Arthur wants to know when we’re coming.”

Morgana looks vindicated, and Gwen laughs. “Alright, I suppose we can head out now,” Gwen says. “The bill’s already sorted anyway.”

(9:07 PM) Merlin

well don’t think too hard we wouldn’t want u to hurt ur pretty little head

be there in 10 btw

It’s a short trip to the bar, only two blocks away, and Merlin delights at the way the cool air hits his skin. He tries not to be nervous, but he can’t help but think about how Arthur’s going to be there—and now that he’s heard that it might not just be all in his head, he’s not really sure how he’s supposed to act.

As they enter the bar, Merlin spots him almost immediately. He feels dizzy and excited all at once. Of course, he thinks to himself, that at the end of the night, there’s Arthur. He’s sitting in a booth with Percival next to him, a glass in his hand, laughing at something Gwaine said. It feels a little like university all over again, standing on opposite sides of the room, untouching and unyielding at the same time. Except—now, when Arthur looks up at the sound of their group entering, his eyes catch Merlin’s at the back, and he smiles so wide that Merlin’s heart nearly jumps out of his chest to get to him.

They all cram into the booth and it’s a bit cramped with everyone, but Arthur holds out a spot for Merlin to take. Their shoulders and thighs press together, and suddenly Merlin can’t think of a single thing to complain about.

“Hey,” Arthur says, close to Merlin’s ear so he can hear him over the music. The lights fall on Arthur’s face like colored raindrops and Merlin is so vividly reminded of an open ocean sky at sunset, a soft sea glass blue that goes on forever, brushstrokes of pink on his cheeks like a painting.

“Hi,” Merlin says back. He’s jittery all over. Merlin had learned a long time ago that being with Arthur was like walking a tightrope, a balance between the right words to say to maintain civility and words just aggravating enough to slightly piss him off. But that’s changed—there’s a third thing now, wrapped in Morgana’s words to him earlier, that Merlin doesn’t know how to balance without falling off spectacularly.

So when Arthur holds out his glass as an offering, Merlin doesn’t really hesitate to take a few sips, feeling the burn at the back of his throat. He wrinkles his nose. He’s never really liked beer.

“That’s awful,” he groans, wiping at his mouth. “Couldn’t you have ordered something else?” When Arthur doesn’t respond, Merlin bumps his shoulder.

Arthur blinks. Merlin doesn’t miss the way Arthur’s gaze had flicked to his mouth. “Sorry, I couldn’t hear you.”

“You have terrible taste,” Merlin says to him, making sure to speak a little louder. And you’re a terrible liar, he thinks.

Arthur’s lips quirk into an almost-smile. “I wouldn’t say that.” He slides another glass towards Merlin, who looks at him in suspicion. “Here, try this.”

“What is it?”

“It’s just hard lemonade,” Arthur tells him. “Since you’re being so picky.”

Merlin rolls his eyes. Like he’s the one with the overly complicated coffee order and who won’t eat ramen unless it’s from this one specific restaurant on the other side of town. “Thanks,” he says anyway, and Arthur grins at him right back.

They’re both pulled into a conversation with Gwaine and Freya, chatting about mindless things from work to their plans for the holidays, showing one another pictures of their pets, or in Gwaine’s case, a picture of the giant gecko in his bedroom wall that never seems to leave. Merlin can feel Morgana staring at him from across the table every time Arthur directs a question or a comment to him, and every time Arthur’s arm brushes against his own.

He can’t even say that it doesn’t matter—not when he’s hyperaware of every point of contact between them, electricity jolting through his skin whenever Arthur touches him. Merlin’s not sure if he’s not making up in his head, when Arthur lingers a little longer than usual, if his arm presses against Merlin’s for no other reason than just to simply do so. Even when some of their other friends decide to get up and dance, freeing up some space in the booth, Arthur doesn’t move away. Merlin doesn’t either.

“—can’t believe he never noticed,” Freya is grumbling, her lips pulled into a frown. “It was basically a confession! I don’t get it.”

“Some people just need it really spelled out for them,” Gwen says consolingly.

“What do you think I should do?” Freya asks. “I’m going to see him at work again next week! It’s just so embarrassing.”

“You could just tell him,” Arthur offers up.

Morgana snorts. “Rich advice coming from you, dear brother.”

Arthur’s eyes narrow. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Merlin definitely does not miss it when Morgana glances at him ever so briefly before going back to Arthur. He pretends not to notice.

“Nothing,” she says sweetly. She turns to Freya. “Though Arthur does have a point. If flirting isn’t working, that might be your only option.”

Freya groans. “Fine,” she mumbles. “I’ll think about it.”

“How about another round of drinks?” Lancelot offers, standing up from his seat.

“Oh, I’ll come with you, I’ve got to use the bathroom anyway,” Freya says.

Gwen turns to Morgana. “And how about a dance, my lady?”

Arthur gags exaggeratedly to Merlin, who makes a face right back at him, snickering.

“Anything for you,” Morgana says, smiling so big Merlin can’t help but be happy for her. “Lead the way.”

The couple sets off to the dance floor, both girls laughing all the way, and Merlin takes another sip of his drink as the realization settles around him. It’s just him and Arthur now.

“They make me want to tear my hair out sometimes,” Merlin tells him.

“Because of how disgustingly in love they are?” Arthur says.

“Exactly.”

Arthur laughs a little, and Merlin can feel it at his side when he does. Then, Arthur stands and moves, sitting across from Merlin instead. Merlin mourns the loss of contact almost immediately, his entire side going cold and empty. But then Arthur nudges his foot against Merlin’s under the table, lightly kicking at him. He’s got a little smile on his face, playful and teasing, and all the warmth rushes back into Merlin. This is a pretty good view too.

“What, you’ve never become a little cheesy when you were dating someone?” Arthur asks. The colors dancing on his face from the lights is making Merlin feel a little light-headed.

Merlin shrugs. “I don’t think I’ve ever liked someone enough to cross that line.” He raises his eyebrow at Arthur. “Have you?”

“Got close a few times,” Arthur admits, looking a little embarrassed. “But really? No one back home?”

“Oh, man, if I’ve dated only a few people here in Camelot, then you can count the number to be zero back in Ealdor,” Merlin says a little too honestly, leaning back on his seat.

“You know, I realized I never really did ask,” Arthur says. “Why did you decide to move to Camelot?”

And oh, isn’t that a story. Merlin takes a long, good sip of his drink. “For as long as I’ve lived there,” he starts saying, “I’ve known I wanted to get the fuck out.”

Arthur tilts his head in curiosity, gesturing for Merlin to continue.

“Ealdor is… It’s small. It never changes. No one ever leaves. They’re too afraid to even stretch their fingers over the border line, and people stay so still and move so slowly, the sun could rise and set and they’d only be two inches from where they were,” Merlin says, and he feels it rising in his chest—that old desperation to get out clawing at him, a need to be anywhere but where he’d grown up. “I wasn’t…really good at making friends. In middle school, some kid had started a rumor that I knew, like, evil magic or something, which was definitely not true, but it stuck, so. People didn’t really like me, and we weren’t really rich, so I only really had Will for company, do you remember him?”

“The guy from the coffee shop?” Arthur asks, and Merlin nods. They’d gone for coffee one morning, after Merlin’s night shift and before Arthur’s gym session, and Will was working at the time. It felt a little embarrassing to introduce the two, and Merlin could tell they didn’t really like each other, because Will was always the prickly type and Arthur seemed to revert back to his arrogant self whenever he met someone new, but it wasn’t so bad, all things considered.

“It felt like a lot of the time I couldn’t move. Like people already expected things of me, that I was strange or bad luck. I wanted… I wanted to become bigger than myself, so that I wouldn’t have to fold myself into something more manageable. I wanted to be somewhere where no one knew me. I wanted to get out,” Merlin finishes. He unclenches his fists, trying to relax. He’s never really told anyone all this before, aside from Gwen.

“But why Camelot?” he asks, looking genuinely curious.

Merlin shrugs. “It was far enough I knew no one would know me, but near enough I could still visit my mum if I really needed to.”

“I’ve never really wanted to leave Camelot, not like that,” Arthur says. “And even when I did, when I was in Nemeth, I just ended coming back around again.”

Merlin smiles. “Maybe it’s for the best,” he says. “You seem like you belong here.”

“You think so?”

He thinks of the two years Arthur had been gone. How he’d gone to dinners and parties to find an empty space, thrown off his orbit by a black hole. How he’d waited around for someone to test him the way Arthur did, to try and compete with him. How Camelot never really felt like it when Arthur wasn’t around, and now that he was, the world was back in proper balance.

“Yeah,” he says finally, smiling. “Yeah, I’m sure.”

“I like being back too,” Arthur says. “Though I guess now I have to deal with your stupid mouth blabbering every two seconds again. It was basically silent over there.”

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” Merlin snorts. His finger circles around the rim of his glass.

“Nah, it was way too boring,” Arthur says casually, but he’s looking at Merlin now, grinning, with that look on his face, the one Merlin can’t read. “And no one else really compared.”

“Oh,” Merlin says, taken aback. He gets that feeling in his stomach, like when’s on a rollercoaster and the ride drops, the wind roaring in his ears, and he can’t feel anything else about the world around him except for what’s directly in front of him. And there’s Arthur.

He takes a deep breath and braces himself for impact. “You know, Morgana seems to think you’ve been flirting with me.”

Arthur stiffens, but it’s so imperceptible that Merlin nearly misses it, the way his fingers tense around his glass. He blinks and in the next instant, Arthur’s relaxed again, shoulders loose and casual. “Oh, she does now, does she?”

“Yeah,” he says. He doesn’t know why, but a smile is rising on his lips, strangely feeling bold instead of nervous. The thrill of the thought that Arthur might actually be interested in him, the proof in the way Arthur is looking right at him, as if trying to guess at what Merlin’s up to.

“And what do you think?” Arthur asks him, smirking a little as he raises his glass to his lips. It’s a challenge, Merlin realizes.

“Well,” Merlin starts to say, leaning forward on his elbows. “I’d say that if you are, then you must be a worse flirt than I thought.”

Arthur barks out a laugh. “Now, Merlin, what makes you say that?”

Merlin shrugs, hoping it comes off as casual. “You’re just terribly obvious.”

Arthur looks stunned. “Obvious?”

Merlin takes another sip of his drink. Out of the corner of his eye, he can see Arthur watching him. “Definitely,” he says. “It’s like that summer of our second year in university, when we went to the pool, do you remember? You were staring at Gwen trying to get her to notice you, and then you slipped and fell right into the water. It was really funny.” He grins at the memory. “See? Obvious.”

But Arthur only looks confused. “Why would I want Gwen to notice me?”

Merlin falters, wondering if he’d said the wrong thing, if this will just embarrass Arthur by bringing it up. “You really don’t remember? I’m pretty sure this was back when you used to have that massive crush on her.”

Arthur frowns. “I never had a crush on Gwen.”

“Oh,” Merlin says, and now it’s his turn to be confused. “But you were always hanging around me? I assumed it was because you wanted to get close to Gwen, and I was her best friend. Even though she was already pretty smitten with Morgana by then, so I did feel kinda bad for you.”

For a moment, Merlin thinks he’s crossed a line, but then Arthur laughs, throwing his head back, and Merlin stands there watching him, mesmerized. His heart pounds loudly in his chest, the wind knocked out of his lungs.

When Arthur looks at him again, his lips are twitching, as if he’s trying not to smile. He shakes his head and says, “That’s not why I did that.”

“Then why…?” Merlin trails.

Arthur cocks his head to one side and crosses his arms. He shifts—and there’s something else now, in his smile, pulling at it tight, like it’s trying to hide something underneath. “Why do you think, Merlin?”

“Oh,” he says again, feeling dumb, like Arthur had beaten him in the challenge, after all.

Arthur presses his lips together, still looking a little amused. “Well, I’m going to go get us some more drinks,” he says, standing up. Then he winks, the absolute bastard. “Try not to think about that too hard, won’t you?”

Merlin nods, but Arthur’s already walking away. He watches him leave, around the corner to the bar, where Arthur drums his fingertips against the countertop as he asks for more drinks. He looks good, Merlin thinks, in a way that no one ever has before. All painted colors and golden halos, Merlin takes in the sight of him, broad-shouldered and strong and devastatingly handsome even from afar. Like an angel, like a god, like something holy—like something to pray for.

He swallows, and there’s a feeling in his chest, like he knows something he shouldn’t, but he does, and now it’s too late to go back. Something in the back of his mind reminds him, twelve minutes, that’s all it takes. And here it is again as Merlin watches Arthur, his throat dry and his heart racing, and he knows, deep down, that it can only mean one thing. It could only ever mean this one thing, and suddenly it all makes sense. The need to know more about Arthur, to peel back every piece of armor, and to see him smile. The most alive Merlin’s ever felt, the way he feels when someone says Arthur’s name. Someone who makes him feel a little insane.

And Merlin wants him.

He wants him bad.

(3:14 AM) Merlin

gwen my entire understanding of the universe just shifted

(3:15 AM) Gwen

Merlin, it’s 3am

This is about Arthur, isn’t it?

(3:15 AM) Merlin

yes please help me

did you know that he never had a crush on you?

(3:16 AM) Gwen

Okay I’m going to call you

And why on earth would Arthur have a crush on me? He was only ever interested in you

(3:16 AM) Merlin

oh my god

The problem with realizing he wants to kiss Arthur, Merlin learns very quickly, is that it becomes almost impossible not to think about kissing Arthur. Which is bad. It is very bad, because he feels so unfocused and horribly distracted, and he keeps catching himself trying to imagine what Arthur says to other people when he talks about Merlin, or what Arthur is doing at different times of the day. What makes it even worse is that Arthur keeps texting him and being annoying and asking Merlin if he’s free to hang out, and it makes Merlin feel all sorts of weird and nervous, which is ridiculous because it’s just Arthur, but it’s also Arthur.

So he feels a little torn when his days suddenly become swamped with work, because it means he has to say no to Arthur about getting dinner more than thrice, but it also means he doesn’t have to feel like his heart is going to jump right out of his chest at the thought of having to see Arthur. He’s got very conflicting feelings about the whole thing, but there’s one thing at least that’s very clear to him, which is that he would really, really like it if he could just shut Arthur up and make out with him.

“I’ve got some news,” Gwen says as she rounds the corner, putting her clipboard down on the desk. She’s got a little bouquet of flowers embroidered on her scrubs today. “Arthur was asking about you last night.”

Merlin very carefully sets his own pen down. He’d almost forgotten, but Gwen had told him the other day that she and Morgana were going to be having dinner with Arthur. “Hello, Gwen, it’s nice to see you too.”

She ignores him, instead raising an eyebrow and saying, “He also mentioned that he hasn’t been able to see you lately.”

Merlin breathes out a sigh. “Yeah,” he admits. “You know how busy it’s gotten.”

“Sure,” Gwen says, waving a hand in the air. “And I’m sure that it also has nothing to do with how you’ve recently discovered you want him to kiss the living daylights out of you?”

“I wouldn’t say that—”

“Fine, you want to hold his hand. Is that better?”

Merlin is embarrassed by the way he still blushes at that. “Morgana’s a terrible influence on you. She’s making you mean.”

Gwen laughs. “Okay, but that’s not the point,” she says gently. “Why are you avoiding him?”

“Because,” Merlin starts, before realizing he’s not sure what to say. “Because.”

“Because what?”

He groans, leaning forward to bury his face in his arms. He hears Gwen walk over to take the chair next to him.

Merlin takes a deep breath. “Because I really like him, Gwen,” he confesses, feeling the weight of words on his tongue, like gravity is pulling them down and carving them into something real. “I don’t know how it happened, but I do, and I feel like if I see him, my heart is going to explode. That, and I’m probably going to say something really stupid.”

Gwen bites down her lip like she’s suppressing a smile. “Oh, Merlin,” she says softly, leaning into his shoulder. “That’s so sweet. And I love you, but when it comes to that last part, I think that ship has already sailed. And Arthurstill likes you.”

Merlin huffs out a laugh, and bumps his own head against hers, a light tap, before moving away. “I just—I don’t know. It’s never really felt like this before.”

“But it’s a good kind of nervous, right?” she asks. “Like anything could be possible.”

If anything is possible, then Merlin falling flat on his face in front of Arthur and him laughing at Merlin definitely is. Though if that happened, Merlin would probably drag him down with him. But if he’s really thinking about it, if anything really is possible—then so is being with Arthur and making him laugh, and getting him to look at Merlin with that smile he’s almost certain is reserved just for him.

“Yeah,” he says after a moment. “Did he really ask about me?”

Gwen nods. “It was actually kind of funny. There wasn’t a topic we’d talk about where he wouldn’t find a way to bring you up. He said your name sixteen times. Morgana counted.”

Merlin flushes. “No, he didn’t.”

“He totally did!”

Merlin bites the inside of his cheek, his lips threatening to smile against his will. “God, I feel so stupid,” he says, looking away and shaking his head. “It’s like—I don’t know, it’s never felt like this before. And I keep thinking, I don’t know,” he exhales. “What if I mess it up?”

Gwen presses her lips together. “Well, that’s the thing about relationships, isn’t it? There’s a good chance you might.”

“That doesn’t make me feel any better.”

“You didn’t let me finish. There’s a good chance you might, but there’s also a good chance you won’t. And isn’t it all worth it, for that chance that it does work out? For it to become something beautiful?” Gwen says. “Look, Merlin, relationships are messy because people are messy. We all have our own things going on, but we’re all just trying our best, aren’t we? So truthfully, it’s going to be disappointing, and it’s going to be imperfect, and it’s going to drive you crazy. But it’s also going to be worth it, for that magical moment when everything clicks into place, and you’ll be glad you tried it anyway. There’s no waste in trying to love.”

Merlin stays still for a moment, mulling over her words. Then he inhales and says, “Is that what it felt like for you? When you realized you liked Morgana?”

She nods. “I didn’t think it would work out either at the start,” she admits with a small smile, twisting her ring around her finger. “But look at where we are now.”

Merlin smiles at her. “Just two more weeks ‘til the wedding. Morgana is lucky to have you, you know that, right?”

“I know,” she says, grinning. “So you should ask him out. Think about the double dates we could have.”

He laughs, tilting his head to the side. “I’ll take it into consideration.”

“Good enough for me,” she says, and takes his hand to squeeze it. “Alright, come on. Let’s get back to work before we get into trouble.”

Merlin sighs and stands up. “Yeah, yeah, I’m coming.”

He thinks about her words for the rest of his shift, his mind whirling back to Arthur at every lull, every moment between breaths. He’s willing to try, if Arthur is. And if Arthur is interested in him as much Merlin hopes he is, then maybe—maybe they can be something.

He just needs to wait until the wedding.

“Fancy seeing you here,” Arthur says, sidling up to Merlin, who is standing by the chocolate fountain and currently deciding on which dessert he should have next. He looks annoyingly good in a suit, which makes Merlin feel itchy inside.

Merlin snorts. “That’s got to be your worst opening line to date. Cupcake? It’s red velvet.”

Arthur smirks, but he takes the cupcake anyway, like Merlin knew he would. “Thanks,” he says. “But anyway, it got your attention, didn’t it? Seems like it did the trick to me.”

He takes a bite of the brownie and is pleasantly surprised to discover that it’s got fudge inside. He should’ve known Gwen would have made sure of something like that. “Please. I’d have to be blind not to notice your giant head coming from a mile away.”

“Now that’s just hurtful. I come all this way to you and this is how you treat me?” Arthur says, dramatically pressing his hand to his heart. “In my own house, no less.”

Merlin rolls his eyes. “It’s only what you deserve, Your Royal Highness,” he says mockingly.

“For the last time, Merlin, it’s not a castle,” Arthur huffs.

“It basically is, Arthur,” he says back, gesturing all around them, including where a very intricate and golden chandelier is hanging over their heads. “Just because you lot call it a tiny little cottage does not actually mean that it is.”

“Morgana’s the one who said that, not me,” Arthur grumbles. There’s a bit of frosting on his upper lip now, and Merlin feels equally torn between snickering and trying very hard not to stare.

Merlin sighs, and takes a bite of his own brownie, tearing his gaze away. “Well, she did pick a really beautiful wedding venue,” he says. The ceremony earlier had been nothing short of beautiful, though Merlin wouldn’t have doubted anything less from both Gwen and Morgana. It was held at the garden outside, with flowers everywhere, string lights over their heads, and purple and yellow banners. Everything looked straight out of a fairytale. Merlin isn’t too embarrassed to admit he did shed a few tears during Gwen’s vows.

They’d gone inside the mansion for the reception, which was even more grand, and that’s when Merlin had very quickly realized that a Pendragon summer home would probably be the closest he would ever get to being inside a modern day castle. He’d texted Arthur as such, and felt very pleased with himself when he’d seen Arthur smile at his phone from across the room. Merlin had felt the imprints of his own grin even when he’d looked away, pressing his lips together to keep himself from looking like an absolute fool. He’d spotted Arthur too several times over the night, their eyes catching one another’s in orbit, and it seems like gravity has finally done its work, with the two of them standing together now.

“Yeah,” Arthur agrees, finishing up the last of his cupcake. “Hey, do you wanna gossip about some of my relatives?”

“I can’t believe you’re asking me that,” Merlin says with a laugh. “Duh.”

Arthur smiles broadly. He takes a step closer to Merlin, their shoulders bumping against each other, and Merlin feels electric inside when he realizes that he can even smell Arthur’s cologne. No one would ever really suspect it, Arthur Pendragon, golden boy and billionaire son, being a gossip, not with his arrogance well-worn like a shield and his hidden earnestness underneath. But it’s true, and Merlin knows it best, of course, this terrible secret, hidden under the lie that he needs to keep up appearances and charms and how you can’t really do that without knowing all the facts, now can you, Merlin, now shut up and tell me what you know. So Arthur loves to gossip, and they’ve spent a lot of time making up stories and reasons for people’s motivations of sleeping one another and stealing family heirlooms. Though maybe Arthur is only a gossip because Merlin loves to gossip, and he loves gossiping with Arthur more than anyone else because of how horribly judgemental Arthur is, which never fazes Merlin because it’s matched perfectly only by how terribly merciless he himself can be too.

But that’s not really important right now. What’s important is—

“He slept with her?” Merlin exclaims incredulously.

“Shhh! He’s right there!” Arthur says, pressing a finger to his lips, but his shoulders are shaking with laughter anyway.

“Why would he do that? That’s basically his cousin!”

“Step-cousin,” Arthur corrects.

Merlin shoots him a look. “It still counts!” he says, eyeing the man in question. He’s one of Arthur’s distant uncles who Morgana had apparently been forced to invite. He’s currently trying to get the attention of one of Gwen’s friends and failing so miserably Merlin almost feels bad for him.

Arthur just shrugs. “According to him, it was love at first sight.”

Merlin scoffs at that. “Seriously?”

“Not really much of a romantic, are you, Merlin?” Arthur muses.

“I wouldn’t say that,” he says. “But maybe not so much when it comes to love at first sight.”

Arthur’s eyebrows raise at that, looking amused. “Really?”

Merlin tilts his head in question and squints. “Wait, do you?”

There’s a beat, and then Arthur seems to actually blush.

“No way,” Merlin says.

“Shut up, Merlin—”

“You do! You actually do, don’t you?” Merlin teases, grinning wickedly when Arthur becomes flustered, scowling. “I never would’ve guessed, the great Arthur Pendragon—”

“God, you are so annoying—”

“Nuh-uh,” Merlin sing-songs. “You’ve got to tell me who it was now. It’s the law. Was it Vivian? No, it’s gotta be Mithian, am I right?”

Arthur grits his teeth. “I am not answering that.”

Merlin is undeterred. “Come on! Give me a hint at least.”

“I’m not going to keep talking about this with you.”

“How about the first letter of the name?”

Arthur scowl deepens and he crosses his arms. “Why does it even matter?”

“Because,” Merlin says, half-shrugging. “I just wanna know. Whoever it is, they must be really something to catch your eye the first time around.”

To his surprise, Arthur seems to relent, letting out a deep sigh. “Fine. I’ll give you the first letter,” Arthur says, watching Merlin. “It’s M.”

“I knew it! So it is Mithian,” Merlin exclaims.

Arthur’s lips twitch into the barest hint of a smile. “Sure, if that’s what you think. Besides,” he says, tilting his head again towards Merlin. “A lot’s happened since first sight, hasn’t it?”

Merlin opens his mouth for another retort before Gwen comes around, looping her arm around his.

“Sorry to interrupt,” she says, still looking absolutely radiant. There’s flowers in her hair. “But I believe you promised me a dance, Merlin. You, too, Arthur.”

“I am a man of my word, of course,” Merlin says, grinning. He twirls her around and she laughs. Merlin turns back to Arthur, who’s watching them in amusement. “Well, duty calls. I’ll see you later?”

Arthur smiles. “Yeah, later.”

The music changes then, and the early beats of Nothing’s Gonna Stop Us Now starts to play. “Merlin, come on! It’s our song!” Gwen shrieks, beginning to tug on Merlin’s hand.

“Alright, I’m coming!” he says. He looks back at Arthur. Merlin grins and throws him a mock salute, to which Arthur laughs and shakes his head.

As he leaves with Gwen for the dance floor, Merlin gets one last glimpse of Arthur through the crowd. He’s still smiling, and looking so impossibly fond and affectionate that Merlin is almost glad to be taken away before his heart has the chance of doing something stupid, like throwing itself at Arthur.

The problem is Merlin’s not sure he’s ever wanted to do anything more.

It’s a long time before Merlin manages to stumble out of the dance floor, having been caught by Gwaine into an embarrassing rendition of a jig after he finished dancing with Gwen, followed by a ridiculous attempt at a waltz with Lancelot, and then a turn with the newlyweds, before leaving them to slow dance on their own, the lights dimmed and the song terribly sweet.

Merlin scans the crowd to find Arthur, and when he does eventually, Arthur is sitting outside on the steps facing the garden, the pale moon big and bright in front of him. He takes a moment to take in the sight of it, leaning against a pillar. There he goes again, thinking about Arthur and a starlit sky, softened edges and watercolor blue eyes. Merlin wants and wants and wants.

He takes a step forward, and Arthur seems to hear it, his shoulders tensing for the briefest moment before relaxing again.

“Morgana, if that’s you, I already talked to Father about the job—”

“What about the job?” Merlin asks, plopping right down next to Arthur, pulling his knees to his chest.

Arthur blinks. “Oh. It’s just you, Merlin,” he says. “And it’s—it’s nothing.”

“Doesn’t sound like nothing if you’re hiding,” Merlin quips, but he nudges Arthur with his elbow carefully.

“I’m not hiding. I’m just—thinking,” Arthur says with a deep sigh. Merlin waits a moment, then another, until Arthur exhales again and says, “He offered me a job again.”

“Really?” Merlin asks, surprised. “Why would he do that? You’ve already got a new job.”

Arthur shrugs. “He’s actually…he’s been asking me about it for months. He never wanted me to leave in the first place, so I suppose he never really accepted it. He said things would be different this time, that I’d be more in control of what I do.”

“Oh,” Merlin says faintly. His mind begins to spiral—if Arthur decides to work for his dad again, does that mean he has to leave again? “Are you…are you going to take it?”

“No,” Arthur says, so quickly and resolutely that Merlin almost has whiplash. “I mean—no, I don’t think so. I want to make a name for myself without him, and I can’t do that if I’m working under him, no matter how indirectly. Plus, I don’t really want to leave again. Not now, not when…” he trails off, biting his lip. He turns to Merlin, his face half-shadowed. “Anyway, I guess you’re stuck with me a little longer.”

Merlin releases a breath he didn’t realize he was holding. “Ah, well, you’re not too bad, Pendragon,” he says, waving a hand around to fake casualness, but he grins anyway, feeling relieved. “Tolerable at best, I think, and a total clotpole at worst.”

Arthur breathes out a small laugh. “How many times do I have to tell you that’s not a word?”

“And how many times do I have to tell you that I think it suits you perfectly?” Merlin counters.

Arthur rolls his eyes, and moves so that he faces toward the sky. They’re both quiet for a moment, save for the muffled sounds of the party behind them and the crickets echoing in the grass. The air is cool against Merlin’s throat when he breathes it in, and it reminds him of a summer long-lost, like a time he’d sat just like this with the same boy next to him.

“You know,” Arthur says after a while, his voice soft, “I was actually starting to think I freaked you out or something after the bachelorette party.”

Merlin’s head snaps to look at him. “What? Why?”

There’s the tiniest hint of pink that creeps up on Arthur’s cheeks. “Well, you didn’t…you kept saying no when I tried to ask you out for dinner. Morgana kept saying that you were interested, and Gwen told me you were just busy, but—I don’t know. I thought that maybe I went too far, or maybe I read things wrong.”

Merlin blinks. “No, Arthur, I—” he falters, ready to reassure Arthur that he really just got caught up at work before he processes Arthur’s words fully. His stomach drops. “Wait—what do you mean, asking me out? Like—as a date?”

Arthur looks at him, his eyes wide. “Merlin,” he says, sounding pained. “Merlin, I’ve been flirting with you for months. You have to know. Surely you know.”

“No…no, I mean, I do, but I didn’t think—” Merlin says, his heart thundering loudly in his ears. He faces Arthur now fully and grabs his hands. “Ask me again. Right now.”

“What?” Arthur says, confused.

“Arthur,” Merlin repeats. “Ask me out again.”

Arthur is still looking at him like he’s not sure what’s going on, but that’s okay, because Merlin’s head feels like a wild storm, like he’s in a face-first free fall. “Merlin,” he says, his voice low and soft and the way he says it makes Merlin’s heart do somersaults. “Get dinner with me. As a date.”

Merlin feels a stupid rush of fondness at the way it wasn’t even a question, because of course Arthur would say it like that, the absolute prick. He’s grinning so widely he feels like split into two. “Okay,” he says, breathless. “Yeah, okay.”

“Really?” Arthur says, like he can’t believe it either.

“Yeah,” Merlin nods. “And one more thing—my turn now. Tell me if I’m reading things wrong, yeah? But I don’t think I am.”

That’s all the warning Merlin gives him before he pulls Arthur closer by the collar and kisses him. Merlin’s sure he’s never tasted anything sweeter, and he can’t really think of anything else except Arthur—how he can finally have this, electrifying and dizzying and thrilling, and how it’s even better than he expected. He can’t keep himself from smiling, and he can feel Arthur breathe out a laugh, the warmth in the small space between them before Arthur moves to close the gap again, sinking into Merlin. He wraps his arms around Arthur’s neck, curling his fingers into Arthur’s hair, and he can feel Arthur’s hands touch his arms, his back, his waist, and he can’t help but shiver into it when Arthur presses kisses along his neck. His whole body feels like it’s on fire, and he can’t believe it’s real, and it’s Arthur, and he feels so alive.

When he lets go, he feels himself laughing again, the wind knocked out of lungs. Arthur looks deliciously flushed, his hair mussed and cheeks pink, beaming back at Merlin with that crooked grin of his, and it makes Merlin want to kiss him again. So he does.

“Hey,” Arthur says after a while, both of them catching their breath, foreheads pressed against each other. “You wanna get out of here?”

“Yeah,” Merlin says, his heart still pounding and his head still dizzy.

They manage to look presentable enough to find Gwen and Morgana to wish them one final congratulations and tell them that they’ll be heading out. Morgana’s smirk is ever present and Gwen is trying very hard not to smile, but one look from Merlin, and he can tell she knows already. Arthur drags Merlin out of there before Morgana can make one more comment, his hand in Merlin’s, and Merlin finds that he doesn’t really mind being pulled around.

They drive until they find a diner that’s still magically open late at night, because Arthur says he’s craving hamburgers, and Merlin could go for some fries anyway. Just as Arthur’s finished parking, he reaches over and tugs at Merlin to pull him in for another kiss, and looks so annoyingly smug at how dazed Merlin feels when it’s over that Merlin really doesn’t have another option but to try to beat him at his own game.

When they finally do make it out of the car, they find a booth in the corner, sitting side by side, and Merlin keeps sneaking glances over at Arthur, only to find Arthur already looking back at him. That makes him feel all sorts of things, and he can’t really help the smiles that spill out of him unbiddenly. They talk about random, unimportant things, like Arthur’s new boss and how Merlin’s cats are doing and whether or not soup can be classified as a drink or not. It’s easy and simple and light, and Merlin never wants it to end.

Eventually, they’re kicked out of the restaurant when it’s closing time, so they decide to go on a bit of a walk, the shops closed and the world quiet. The streetlights cast a warm color on them, hazy and dream-like. Merlin has to pinch himself to make sure it’s real.

“Wait, so you’re telling me Morgana knew?” Merlin exclaims, throwing his hands up in the air in defeat.

Arthur rolls his eyes, but he’s holding Merlin’s hand, so it kind of cancels out. “Of course Morgana knew, Merlin, I was never exactly subtle about it. I was actually kinda worried she’d say something to you back then at my going-away party, do you remember?”

Merlin pauses. He thinks back to that night, and thinks of Arthur telling him that Morgana wanted to set him up with someone. He whirls around, facing Arthur, voice incredulous when he says, “It was me?”

Arthur looks like he’s trying not to smile. “Took you long enough.”

“Wait, so that must mean—that even before—this whole time?” Merlin asks, eyes wide. “You liked me? You actually liked me?”

“Come on, Merlin, don’t be stupid,” Arthur says, voice sounding a little strained and soft and so far from its usual gruff that it sends Merlin’s head spinning. Then he finally looks at Merlin, and offers a weak smile. “Of course I did.”

He can’t believe this. This whole time—he’d always thought Arthur hated him, and sure, Morgana and Gwen had both said that it was untrue, but he assumed they were just teasing. He can’t wrap his head around it.

“Huh,” he says after a moment. “And you’ve been flirting with me all that time?”

Arthur gives him another pained look. “It’s not my fault you’re horribly dense. I thought I was being quite clear. You really only noticed it now?”

Merlin nods, feeling unsteady. “Wow. You must really like me.”

“I thought we established that already,” Arthur says, but it lacks his usual impatience. Then something in his eyes shifts, like he’s uncomfortable, and he looks insecure almost, when he asks, “And do you…?”

Merlin grins. “Do I what?”

“What do you feel about me?” Arthur manages to say after a moment. It’s a little strange, to say the least, to see Arthur without his usual cockiness, his shield of confidence. Perhaps this is finally what’s underneath all the armor, Merlin thinks. Just Arthur.

Merlin thinks about the question. He remembers what Gwen told him about relationships. Love must be such a cruel thing, to make you give your all to something without a guarantee of success, without certainty of stability. There’s no way of knowing how long it will last, or how far you will go together. There’s only the possibility of being together, the shared act of a free fall, the unspoken promise that binds you to another. Maybe that’s what it’s really about, that the greatest act of love is looking at the other person and taking them as they are and knowing all the possibilities of how things could go and still taking their hand despite it all.

So Merlin looks at Arthur then, at the love in the space between them, and decides, fuck it.

“Well,” he starts, moving so that he’s standing in front of Arthur instead of beside him. Arthur, golden under the streetlights, a watercolor painting, their orbits finally pulled together for good. “I still think you’re the most infuriating person I’ve ever met. You’re stubborn and arrogant and pretentious, and honestly, a total prat.”

“Is there a ‘but’ to all that?” Arthur asks humorously, but there’s a hopeful look in his eyes, teasing even, when he takes a step closer to Merlin, a smirk light on his lips.

“Hush. Let me finish,” Merlin says. He takes Arthur’s hand in his. “Look, you once asked me what my type was, and it was all this bunch of stuff that didn’t really make sense, I know, mostly because I thought it didn’t really matter. But now I look at you, and I think I’ve finally figured it out.” He smiles. “It definitely took some time, but I’ve realized that you’re not totally boring. You keep up with me, and I know you definitely don’t mind being a little stupid—”

“I genuinely can’t tell if you’re complimenting me or not—”

“Arthur, shut up,” Merlin says, and Arthur clamps his lips shut. “You make me nervous and excited and sometimes I don’t know how to act. You make me laugh more than anyone else, and I never want to stop talking to you. And,” he says, pausing just enough to step closer and touch Arthur’s collar. “You make me feel completely and absolutely insane.”

Arthur swallows. “I take it you also don’t think I have a giant head?” he says, voice low.

Merlin hums. “I can look past it,” he says, and then Arthur kisses him. “Plus, this is a much better way to keep you quiet.”

“Shut up, Merlin,” Arthur mutters, smiling into the kiss.

For once, Merlin very happily does.

It ends like this:

“Arthur, if you don’t turn off your alarm right now, I’m going to smash your phone into pieces,” Merlin groans, pulling an arm over his eyes. He hears Arthur make a sound next to him and feels him shift under the covers. The alarm is still going off, though, so Merlin reaches around blindly for a pillow and uses it to smack Arthur’s head.

“What the fuck,” Arthur mumbles, finally awake enough to shut off his alarm. “And that was your alarm, you idiot.”

“I’m not the one who sets a million alarms at five minute intervals before the actual alarm,” Merlin tells him, rolling over so that he faces Arthur, his eyes still bleary.

Arthur doesn’t look any more awake. His eyes are half-shut and there’s a bit of drool on the side of his mouth. By all means, it shouldn’t be that endearing, but Merlin feels a swell of fondness surge in his chest anyway. He’s learning very quickly that he likes Arthur like this, soft and relaxed in the morning light, still untouched by the rest of the day. It’s followed very closely by the Arthur from last night in bed, who Merlin also liked very, very much.

“We gotta get up soon,” Merlin tells him in a half-whisper, and he leans over to poke Arthur on the chest. “Morgana’s gonna be mad if we’re late to breakfast.”

“I don’t care,” Arthur grumbles childishly, burrowing further into the covers. Merlin resists the urge to laugh.

“Arthur, come on,” Merlin says, this time sticking his fingers to Arthur’s sides, where Arthur is secretly ticklish. The tactic works because Arthur shrieks, making a mess of the covers and moving away from Merlin.

“You are terrible,” Arthur says, scowling.

“Good. Now you’re awake,” Merlin says, chipper. “And you like to hog the blankets, did you know that?”

Arthur raises an eyebrow at him. “And you’re aggressive when you’re cranky. Did you really threaten to smash my phone?”

He shrugs. “You should’ve turned your alarm off.”

Arthur’s lips crack into a small smile. “You really are something, Merlin.”

“A good thing, I assume,” Merlin says, adjusting himself so that he’s tucked into Arthur’s side, his arm under Merlin’s head. It’s warm, and Merlin likes this a lot too. “Hey, what are you doing later?”

Arthur furrows his eyebrows. “Like after breakfast?”

“Yeah,” Merlin says, fingers playing idly with the edge of the blanket.

“I don’t know yet,” Arthur admits. “Why?”

“We could keep hanging out,” Merlin suggests. “You could come with me to pick up some stuff from the grocery.”

“Sure,” Arthur replies easily.

“And tomorrow? Are you doing anything tomorrow?”

Arthur raises an eyebrow. “Not that I know of. I’ve still got the day off from work.”

“Okay,” Merlin says, nodding. “That’s good. And the day after that?”

Arthur’s lips quirk into a smile. “Merlin, what are you going on about?”

Merlin’s fingers are still against the blanket, and he tilts his head to look over at Arthur. “Just wondering what your plans are.”

Arthur adjusts his arm, bringing Merlin closer. “Well, you need not worry because I have no intention of leaving your side today or tomorrow.”

And how about the rest of your life? Merlin wants to ask, but maybe that’s for another time. He has a feeling he already knows the answer anyway. I will never have to miss you again if I can help it.

“Good,” Merlin says, pleased even when he feels his cheek warm. He presses a kiss to the side of Arthur’s face. “We do have to get out of bed eventually though.”

Arthur groans. “Fine, but twenty more minutes.”

“Ten,” Merlin argues.

“Fifteen.”

Merlin sighs. “Alright. But I’m timing it.”

Arthur huffs, but his face is already half-buried in Merlin’s hair, his eyes shut and his breathing shortly turns slow and even. Merlin still feels like he could explode at the thought of where they are, at the idea that this is actually something he can have. Something he can actually keep.

With Arthur, Merlin realizes, it feels like time is—it’s not slow motion, no, like he’d thought before. It’s like time is always rushing past instead, like he doesn’t even notice it’s moving when he’s with Arthur, too focused on what’s right in front of him. Like stars colliding, something that’s latched under his heart and dug so deep, like a declaration that there was never going to be a destiny without both of them on either side of it. Something that changed between them a long time ago, something reverent in the bond between them.

Something about how twelve minutes is all it takes to fall in love the first time around, and how Merlin finally realizes that maybe Arthur Pendragon isn’t so impossible after all.