In Spite of Everything, Part IV
Arthur is barely home for the next two days, and he welcomes Friday with relief. He works late that night, and when he trudges up the stairs and opens the door to their flat, he finds Merlin with his knees pulled up onto the couch, his toes poking out from his pajama bottoms. He stares at Arthur, his hands clasped around his shins, like he isn’t sure which way is the quickest out of the room and is therefore afraid to move.
Arthur drops his bag on the floor and shrugs out of his jacket. “Hey. Anything good on?”
Merlin averts his eyes to the television screen. “Repeat of Top Gear,” he murmurs.
Arthur nods and moves over to sit down next to him. “I’ve been promoted to assistant manager,” he says lightly. “I start training next week.”
“That’s great.” Merlin’s face goes soft around the edges, almost a smile. “I’m really happy for you.” He presses his hand to the couch cushion, ready to push himself up.
Arthur catches him with fingers on his wrist. “Can we talk?”
“Um.” Merlin settles again. “Yes. Sure. About what?”
Arthur’s quiet for a moment, and Merlin slides his hand out from his grip, folding his arms defensively over his chest. “I’m sorry,” Arthur blurts out, which is really not what he wanted to say at all. “For yelling at you. For getting angry.”
“Oh.” Merlin casts his eyes down at his arms, picks awkwardly at a bit of fuzz on his sleeve. “It’s alright. I deserved it.”
“You didn’t, though. It was as much my fault as yours. I didn’t - I mean, we never set parameters about what we were or what we expected from each other. I assumed that I knew what our relationship was like, and I didn’t at all, and that was as much my fault as yours.” Arthur takes a breath, clears his throat. “And maybe - I was probably too judgmental. I criticized you for what you did without trying to understand.”
“Arthur, it’s okay.”
“It’s not though. I - I’ve been thinking about it a lot. Maybe - it’s not an issue of fidelity. It’s not that you cheated on me. It’s just your sexual preference. Hear me out,” Arthur begs, when Merlin’s eyebrows shoot up. “I’m the kind of person who prefers to have sex with someone I am emotionally attached to and with whom I am in a relationship. And that’s fine. But you’re not that kind of person, and that’s also fine, and it’s not my place to tell you that there’s something wrong with that.”
“I don’t understand.”
He runs his tongue over his bottom lip. “I want to - I want to try again. If you’ll give me the chance, anyway. I know I wasn’t very kind to you before, and I know I overreacted. I’ll try to be more open-minded, alright? I’ll - It’ll be weird for me, but I’m sure I can learn to be in a semi-open relationship. A lot of people do it, right? They make it work. Why can’t we?”
Merlin stares at him for a long time. “You’re serious?” When Arthur nods, he unfolds his arms and leans toward him a little. “And you won’t - Arthur, you won’t get upset?”
“I’ll do my best not to. I’ll learn. Just give me a chance. Be patient with me. I want to be with you. That’s important to me, even if you don’t want to sleep with me right now. I love being with you, and spending time with you, and coming home to you, and I’ve been so miserable this past month and just - please.”
“Yes,” Merlin whispers, then clears his throat and tries again. “Yes, of course. I’ve been so unhappy, Arthur. I just wanted things to be okay, and I missed you so much.” He clambers into his lap, sliding his fingers into his hair and dragging him in to kiss him. “Thank you, thank you.”
***
Arthur is almost surprised at how easy it is to slide back into being a couple. It’s almost as if they never separated in the first place.
Of course, living together made it difficult for them to be apart even after they broke up, but Arthur never expected it to be this easy. He expected awkwardness, and discomfort from their friends, and weirdness. But it works out, and he’s happy.
Merlin’s feet are cold, and Arthur traps one between his ankles, slinging an arm around him and kissing the side of his head. “You need to put on weight or wear socks to bed,” he murmurs, eyes closed. “This is completely unacceptable for bedtime.”
“It’s not my fault you’re a human radiator,” Merlin quips, snuggling back against him and dragging Arthur’s arm around him so he can stroke his fingertips against the webs between Arthur’s fingers. “You’re lucky I don’t wake up all clammy from the heat you give off.”
“Oi!” Arthur bites the shell of his ear in chastisement and huffs for good measure. “You can always go sleep in your room if you find the state of my bed to be so unlikable.”
“Never!” Merlin gasps, as if horrified by the idea, and tips his head back to kiss him.
Arthur chuckles, even though Merlin’s statement isn’t strictly true. They never sleep together in Merlin’s bedroom, and spend most nights together in Arthur’s, but at least once a week, Merlin spends the night in his own bed, and Arthur sleeps alone. He’s pretty sure he understands why this is the way it is, but he doesn’t ask. He has no interest in knowing for sure.
They still don’t have sex, and Arthur doesn’t press it. He has never been a particularly patient person, but Merlin is worth it, and he has gone longer than this without sex. It isn’t important enough to him to ruin what they have; he’s almost able to go back to how they were before he knew, and he isn’t alright with it, but he’s close. He’s working on it, because he promised Merlin he would.
Merlin scratches lightly at Arthur’s stomach, humming. “What are you thinking about? You’ve gone all quiet.”
“How did you know I wasn’t sleeping?”
“You weren’t breathing your sleeping breaths,” he says easily, leaning up to press his lips to the corner of his mouth. “You were breathing your I’m-trying-to-be-very-quiet-so-I-can-think-thinky-thoughts breaths.”
“I am not thinking thinky thoughts.” Arthur laughs. “They’re just regular I’m-in-bed-with-Merlin thoughts.”
“Oh, those sound like fun thoughts.”
His heart leaps at the flirty tone. “Well, obviously.”
“I have fun I’m-in-bed-with-Arthur thoughts too,” Merlin says solemnly, nodding so that his cheek rubs against Arthur’s shoulder. “They’re How-lucky-am-I-to-be-in-bed-with-my-favorite-person thoughts.”
“I’m your favorite person?”
“Don’t ask stupid questions in bed, Arthur,” Merlin scolds, then wiggles around to squeeze his arms around him, kissing his neck. “Sleeping time now. I’m sprinkling sandman dust on you.”
“You are so weird.”
“You love it.”
“Yes, I do.”
***
Merlin’s bedroom door is closed.
Arthur notices that right away when he steps into the flat. He hangs his bag on the coat hook, and sets his keys down on the table by the door, carefully keeping his hand over them. He doesn’t know what to do. Should he stay? Pretend that when Merlin and whoever he’s with comes out, it’s completely normal for them to be there? Should he go?
This is new territory. Arthur has not been actively about the flat when Merlin’s had people over. He’s usually in lecture or at work or asleep. He swallows and takes up his keys again, moving carefully, and quietly, into his bedroom so he can change clothes. Maybe they could use him at work tonight. Someone almost always calls off, so perhaps he can fill in. And he could always use the money.
He leaves again, turning his key slowly in the lock, and sends Merlin a text message saying he picked up a shift. Even if he isn’t able to work, he figures it will be less awkward than the conversation they’ll have to have if he stays home.
It becomes routine rather quickly, because it seems that at least one of the people Merlin sleeps with is only available in the early evening lately. There’s a little bubble of hysterical laughter lodged at the base of his throat at the thought of Merlin keeping a schedule for it all. He very carefully avoids thinking about how neat and organized Merlin’s sex life is, and how much it reminds him of prostitution. On his more bitter days, he thinks he’s living in a one-man brothel. Maybe Arthur himself is his manager, in this scenario, his pimp, as it were.
The thought makes him tired, so he writes a note to the scheduling manager at the bookstore to tell him that he’s available Tuesdays, Thursdays and Fridays in the evening for work, and that he would very much like to work those nights, if they’ll allow it.
So he does. He’s working almost seven days a week, and spring is creeping along, the sun peeking out that little bit more each day. Arthur feels exams breathing against the back of his neck, and he tries not to think too much about how unprepared he is.
What time he doesn’t spend working is spent in the library, or in the corner of the coffee shop where Merlin works, letting his boyfriend top off his coffee without charge for hours at a time while he revises.
He feels drained every once in a while, and spends the time he should be preparing for exams or writing essays staring listlessly at the television, barely awake, until Merlin prods him from the cough and into bed after a cup of chamomile tea.
“You don’t smile much anymore,” Merlin comments one night as they sit across from each other at the coffee shop. Arthur has just taken a short break from studying to appease Merlin’s by shoving a chocolate chip muffin into his mouth. “I’m afraid you’re going to be a burnt-out matchstick by the time finals are over.”
Arthur manages a small smile, just for the satisfaction of proving to Merlin he still can. “Why aren’t you more stressed about them anyway?” he murmurs accusingly. “You have actual exams. I just have to write a lot.”
“I’m a genius,” Merlin says breezily. “You forget this. I wish I could help you with your exams. I’d take half of them for you if they’d let me. Take half your load.”
“I wish. I would love you forever if you did.”
“You’ll love me forever anyway.” Merlin pushes himself up and leans over to drop a kiss on his forehead. “I have to go back to work. Stay on till I’ve finished, alright? We’ll walk home together.”
***
“You look awful,” Morgana deadpans. She slides into the chair across from Arthur’s at the café.
Arthur pushes the iced tea he ordered her across the table. “Thanks, Morgana. You really make a guy feel good about himself.”
Morgana rolls her eyes. “You know what I mean. You’re exhausted. When was the last time you had a decent night’s sleep?”
“I sleep every night, believe it or not.” Arthur stirs his Coke with his straw, presses his fingers into his eyes in an attempt to make himself look more awake. “I’ve just been really busy. Work and all that. Plus exams around the corner.”
“Don’t remind me.” Morgana shudders. “All you youngsters are revising and no one is available to entertain me.”
“It’s not our fault you’re older than us. Pester Leon; he’s through with his degree as well.”
“Leon bores me.” Morgana waves her hand dismissively, bracelets jingling. “Why don’t you take fewer shifts, if you’re so tired from revising?”
Arthur flushes. “It gives me an opportunity to be away from the flat,” he murmurs. “Give Merlin some space.”
There is utter silence between them for almost a minute. Morgana stares at him, ink-blackened lashes barely fluttering. She takes a breath. “I see.”
“Oh, don’t say it like that.”
“Like what?”
“Like you’re judging me.”
“I’m not judging you. You’re judging you.” She tucks a strand of hair behind her ear, uncrosses her legs and crosses them again in the other direction. “Look. Whatever your reasons for working yourself most of the way to death, you need to give yourself a break. Why don’t you take a few days off work? You can crash in my guest room if you like.”
“I don’t need your guest room, Morgana. Everything’s fine.”
“It’s not,” Morgana snaps, loudly enough for the couple at the table next to them to jump. “It’s not fine that you are running yourself ragged because you can’t go home because your boyfriend is occupying the flat with his various fuck buddies.” She ignores the offended sound the same couple makes. “It’s not alright, Arthur.”
“What are you talking about?” He shakes his head, mouth hanging open. “You’re the one who told me to give him another chance, Morgana! I’m taking your advice here. I’m being patient, and understanding. What do you want from me?”
“You can’t - Arthur, can’t you see that this is killing you? You aren’t even actively thinking about it, but the hurt is taking such a toll on you. No matter how much you love him, or think you love him, you have to take care of yourself. You have to look after your own needs.”
She presses her lips together. “Arthur,” her voice is softer, less desperate, and she covers his hand. “Everything you’ve always done is to make other people happy. You remember what you did to make sure Uther still loved you, don’t you? You hid who you were, you pretended you were something you’re not. You promised you wouldn’t do that anymore. You promised you’d do whatever it took to make sure you were happy, on your own terms.”
“I am, Morgana.”
“You’re not. You’re doing whatever it takes to make Merlin happy, and breaking your own heart in the process.” She sits back in her chair, scrapes her hair back. “This is classic Arthur, you know.”
Arthur sighs, passes a hand over his face. “What should I do, Morgana? If that’s what you think, what should I do about it?”
“I don’t know,” she admits. “But you’re not a saint, Arthur. You’re trying to make something work that most people can’t, that most people are too insecure to even try.” She squeezes his hand. “You don’t have to sacrifice this much for him. You don’t have to give so much of yourself.”
Arthur stares at their hands. “I don’t know what else to do,” he admits. “I’m in love with him. I want him in my life. I’ll do whatever I takes to keep him.”
Morgana sighs, leans back in her chair. She brings her tea to her lips, takes a long drink, looking at him over the rim of her glass. She sets it down firmly, twists it slightly in its wet ring on the table. “You’re the most loyal person I’ve ever known,” she says quietly. “I don’t understand how someone could not want to be the same for you.”
***
Merlin is clinking around in the kitchen, presumably making dinner, judging by the spicy scents emerging from that general direction, the sound of sizzling meat in a skittle. He wonders if he’s making huevos rancheros for dinner again in a breakfast-for-dinner thing. He does it whenever Arthur has had a particularly rough day, because it always cheers him up, according to Merlin. Arthur continuously insists that all it does is bring tears to his eyes, since Merlin never fails to make the salsa too spicy.
Still, it’s kind of him, and Arthur is exhausted. He’s finally through with his final essays, and only has to survive two more exams. He doesn’t have it in him to work on the revision of either of them tonight, especially after his trying conversation with Morgana yesterday. His sister is so unhelpful, and so fickle. She seems to change her mind as often as she changes underwear, and he has no idea what he was supposed to take away from their discussion.
“Just promise me you’ll think about it,” she said. “Promise me you’ll at least try to consider what would make you happy, if nothing else was even an object of consideration, if there were no factors except you. Please?”
He promised, but he still doesn’t know how that promise is supposed to help. Whenever he thinks about what will make him happy, he thinks of having Merlin forever. And that seems to be the problem, as far as he can tell.
“What are you watching?”
He blinks over at Merlin when he plops down on the couch and hooks their arms together. “Oh. I don’t know.”
Merlin chuckles. “You never seem to actually be watching telly when you have it on, you know. You just sort of mindlessly stare at it. It’s like it completely turns off your brain.” He pauses. “I suppose that’s possible, really. They do say that television rots your brain.”
“Who’s ‘they’?”
“The nameless public.” Merlin kisses his cheek. “You know how much power they have. Do you want a cup of tea? You have to stay awake long enough to eat dinner. You haven’t been eating enough lately.”
“I’ve been eating.”
“Yes, when I make you eat. You know that doesn’t count.”
“In what way does that not count? I am still consuming food. I am still getting nutrients. It counts on every level, and I scoff at your attempts to make me think otherwise.”
Merlin pinches his arm, quirks his right eyebrow up. “You, sir, are avoiding the subject. Regardless if you think you’re eating enough, I don’t think so, and we’re dating, and I made you dinner, so you have to eat it. You aren’t allowed to say no. Otherwise, I will give you the silent treatment.”
“I believe you are drawing from outdated and wholly incorrect ideas about what the ‘woman’ in a relationship has to be like.”
“I am indeed.”
“You do realize they don’t apply to our situation since we’re both men.”
“I realize that as well. You are still changing the subject, and I do not approve.”
Arthur laughs softly, letting his head tip back against the couch. “If it makes you feel better, you can make me a cup of tea.”
“It does make me feel better.” Merlin kisses his cheek and unfolds himself from the couch, retreating to the kitchen. He shuffles about, running water in the kettle and setting it out on the stove. It’s the kind of silence that settles heavy and harsh around them, smothering, and Arthur looks over at Merlin to see him looking back.
“What is it?”
Merlin startles him out of his daze, and he begins rummaging in the cabinets in search of mugs. He sets them down too hard on the counter before he answers. “What is what?”
“Why are you all tense and nervous all of a sudden?”
“I’m not.”
“You are. What’s up?”
Merlin licks his lips. “Let me make you a cup of tea,” he insists quietly. “Then we’ll talk.”
Arthur flushes cold at that, his stomach plummeting. He thinks about arguing, because how can he just sit quietly and wait when he knows what’s coming? Instead, he just nods and turns again to look at the TV.
The kettle whistles, and Merlin scoops it off the stove. He has the tendency sometimes to walk away from the kitchen in the morning when he begins his tea, and Arthur wakes up to the kettle positively screeching; when he goes out to the kitchen, it’s practically rocking in its place on the burner, hissing and spitting, and he has to use a potholder to take it off the stove.
He lets the thought fill his chest with affection, and for a moment, he forgets that Merlin is about to sit down beside him and tell him they should break up. When Merlin sets the mug down on the coffee table in front of him, perfectly prepared, because Merlin somehow always makes the best tea, he looks over at him with a smile and picks it up to take a drink. “Thank you.”
The corner of his mouth quirks up in response. He sips at his own tea for a long moment, before setting it carefully and deliberately down in front of him. He takes a deep breath and expels it through his nose. “I’ve been putting this off for a while,” he admits. “It’s - it’s difficult for me.”
Arthur falls quiet, looks down into the creamy depths of his tea. He taps the side with his index finger. “Can I ask why?”
Merlin’s eyebrows draw together. “Why it’s difficult for me?”
“No. I mean - why you’re breaking up with me. I thought - I’ve been trying really hard, to be understanding and everything, and to not be judgmental. I thought I was doing alright. Don’t get me wrong,” he says quickly, when Merlin starts to shake his head. “I’m not trying to talk you into keeping me around by promising to change or anything, if you’ve decided that it’s best if we go our separate ways - metaphorically of course; we do still live together. I just think I deserve to know why.”
“Of course you do,” Merlin says quietly, then shakes his head again. “I mean - of course you would if that was the conversation I wanted to have with you.”
Oh. “It’s not?”
“Of course not. You’re wonderful.” Merlin laughs softly, closing his hand around Arthur’s wrist and squeezing gently. “Not that the conversation we have to have is going to be very fun either, but it’s definitely not that. I can’t - I don’t want to lose you. That’s why what I have to say is so necessary.”
Arthur leans forward, rests his elbows on his knees, and after a moment, sets his mug down too. “Alright. I’m all ears.”
Merlin twists his mouth up. “You’re not happy,” he blurts out, then looks down at his hands, twisting them together. “I’m not - I’m not making you happy. I haven’t been for a long time. Maybe ever since we got back together.”
Arthur frowns, shakes his head. “That’s not true.”
“It is though. You don’t smile at me anymore.” He touches his fingertip to the corner of Arthur’s mouth, almost like he’s going to push it upwards himself. He drops his hand into his lap, peers somewhat anxiously into Arthur’s face. “You don’t - we don’t sleep together anymore. You don’t let me come to your bed.”
That’s true. They haven’t slept together in a long time. Arthur thought it was on purpose on Merlin’s part, that he was choosing not to come. “I thought you’ve just… had company,” Arthur says carefully, unsure of how to broach that topic, because they’ve so carefully avoided it up to this point. As far as he’s concerned, they could keep avoiding it for the rest of their lives, and he would be just fine with it.
“No. Well, sometimes. I just - I didn’t think I was welcome anymore.” Merlin pulls his legs up onto the couch, tucks his chin over one of his knees.
Something stabs Arthur sharply between the ribs. “You’re always welcome, Merlin. That’s never - that’s never an issue or anything. You could sleep in my bed every night if you wanted. You could call it our bed if you wanted. I would love to have you all the time.”
Merlin licks his lips, smiling carefully. “You used to - when I came to bed after you, you’d leave the corner of the blanket turned down on the right side of the bed, and you’d crack the door, so that I’d know I could come in if I wanted. You don’t do that anymore.”
Arthur didn’t even realize he was doing that in the first place. “I’m sorry. I’ll remember from now on.”
“No, no, don’t apologize.” Merlin pushes himself up onto his knees, then swings a leg over to straddle his lap. He cups his face, draws him up to him for a kiss. “You shouldn’t be apologizing to me, you beautiful man. You’re wonderful.”
Arthur must look as confused as he feels, because Merlin sighs a little and rests their foreheads and noses together, his eyes closed. When he pulls back again, his expression is serious. “I’m ready to explain to you,” he says firmly. “You know how you asked me before, about explaining to you about… everything. The sleeping around and everything. I’m ready to explain it now.”
Arthur sighs. “You don’t have to, Merlin.”
“I do,” Merlin insists. “It’s important to me. Alright?”
“Yes. Alright.”
He nods, swallows hard. “Alright. When I - I mean. When I was younger, I really, really liked having sex. And I don’t think there’s anything wrong with that. I think most teenagers are like that. And I was always safe about it, and only ever did it with people I trusted and - well, I don’t really need to justify it; that’s not the point of this.
“At some point, I began to think that the easiest way for me to show people how much I care about them was to sleep with them. It was fun for all parties involved, and it was simple. It sort of kept people around. And maybe at some point, that stopped being enough, the having people around just because I slept with them. I started feeling like… they were only sticking around because of that. I know that’s probably not true,” he says quickly, when Arthur opens his mouth to comment. “It’s just how it felt.
“And when you asked me out, it seemed so - I mean, everyone else took the sex as a bit of a given, being friends with me. When you wanted more, I was so elated, Arthur. And I realized that whether I slept with you or not, you weren’t going anywhere. And maybe I loved that so much, and was so spoiled by that that I took you for granted a bit, and thought it was okay to continue on with everyone else.”
Arthur doesn’t say anything. He’s not sure how he should respond. It all seems rather a lot to take in, even with what he already knew about the situation. Hearing it from Merlin’s mouth stings, but also gives him some kind of strange hope. “So why are you telling me this now?” he asks quietly, meeting his eye.
Merlin rubs his thumbs over Arthur’s cheekbones. “It’s not fun anymore,” he admits. “It’s not something that I’m doing with friends that’s fun for both of us and keeps us close. I mean, it’s probably still fun for them, but - it feels like I have to do it, to keep my friends interested in being my friends.”
“You know that’s not true, Merlin.”
“I do,” he assures him. “But that’s how it’s begun to feel, like I’m kind of bribing them, and that’s not why I started doing it in the first place, and that’s not why I want to do it now. These people love me, and I know that. I know that even if we’re just friends, and don’t sleep with me, they’re going to stay with me.”
“Of course they are.”Arthur rubs his knuckles along Merlin’s jaw.
Merlin tilts his head to leave fleeting kisses on his fingers. “And if I keep sleeping with them, you’re not going to stay with me.”
“That’s not -”
“It is though. You’re going to resent me instead of loving me, and I want you to love me, Arthur, because I’m beginning to think I love you.” He takes a deep breath, as if he’s just broken surface. “And someday, I want sex to be something I can have especially with you, because as much fun as it is with other people, I don’t love them.” He bites his lip. “I’d loathe myself a lot less if I was having sex with people because I like sex, and not hurting you in the process. I knew I was hurting you and I thought because you said it was okay, that it was okay to continue. I’m sorry.”
Arthur’s eyebrows draw together. “Merlin…”
“So I’ve told them all I’m not going to sleep with them anymore.” He pauses. “Leon told me you’re too good for me, you know, because of all this. I sort of agree with him.” He curls his hand around Arthur’s, brings it to his mouth again. “Let me be good to you, yeah? Let me fix it.”
Arthur is nodding before Merlin finishes the question. “Merlin, I - yes, of course. Yes. I want - I just want to be with you. I would have taken anything you gave me, you have to know that. Thank you.”
Merlin’s face darkens slightly, and he presses a firm kiss to Arthur’s mouth. “You have to make me a promise though.” He searches his eyes for a long moment. “You have to promise me that you will stop putting yourself, and your happiness, aside for other people. You cannot let me be happy at your expense.” He shakes his head. “I have no interest in being happy at the expense of your happiness. That would just be the worst thing, to make someone as wonderful as you unhappy. I’ve been doing that long enough.”
Arthur’s mouth quirks up at the corner. “I’ve been doing that for a very long time. You might have to be a bit patient with me.”
“You’ve lived with me for a while now. You know how patient I can be.” He kisses him again.
***
“Merlin!” Arthur calls his name, jogs over to him. He hitches his bag up on his shoulder. “What are you doing here? Don’t you have a lecture?”
“I’ve skipped it!” Merlin says proudly and presents a picnic basket. “You’re done for the afternoon. I’ve checked your schedule. And because you’re done, we’re going to have a picnic. I’ve made egg salad sandwiches. They’re your favorite this month; you’ve ordered them every time we’ve gone to the café.”
Arthur shakes his head, bewildered, and slings an arm around his shoulders as they head off. “How could you possibly have noticed that?”
“I’m rather observant.” Merlin pats the side of his nose. “Besides, I’m always paying attention to what you eat. I like to cook for you.”
“So I’ve noticed.”
“And because egg salad recipes only come in servings of like, a thousand, we have enough for you to eat egg salad until you’re pretty much sweating it.”
“Well, that’s a charming visual.”
“Ah, but has it put you off egg salad?”
“Not in the least.”
“Then it was a succinct one.” Merlin beams at him.
At the park, Merlin unpacks his overstuffed bag in the shade of a large oak tree, laying out a blanket and anchoring a football against a root. “In case you wanted to play later,” he says by way of explanation.
“You hate football.”
“I do not. What a heinous accusation. I’m just no good at it. You’ll have to give me some instruction.”
“Gladly.”
Arthur does his best, but he’s not sure he has any success at all. Merlin manages to do more tripping over the ball than anything. But he’s fast, and Arthur is out of breath by the time they both collapse on the blanket, lying out on their backs.
“Thank you for this, Merlin.”
“Mmm.” Merlin wiggles over to him, curling up against his side, his head tucked up under his chin. “For what?”
“For this. The picnic. The dinner you made me last night. Bowling last weekend. I just - thank you, for all the attention. It’s very lovely, and I feel very… loved.”
“You are,” Merlin confirms, tracing a pattern on the inside of his wrist with his fingertip. “You’re so loved. I’m trying to show you how much, so you don’t ever have reason to doubt it again, or to ever look unhappy again. I’m trying to make it up to you, for being so negligent these past few months. You deserve so much more than I’ve given you.”
“You’ve given me everything I want.” Arthur curls his arms around him, kisses the top of his head.
Merlin pushes himself up onto his elbows over him, toying with his hair for a moment. “You’re going to be the happiest man in the world when I’m done with you,” he decides, then dips his head to press their mouths together.
Arthur slides a hand up to the back of his head, sliding his fingers into his hair. He lets Merlin lick his way past his lips, their tongues pressing together. Merlin tips his head to the side, fitting their mouths together more fully, and Arthur’s bones go liquid.
He’s still getting used to this. It’s not as if he and Merlin have never kissed, or been affectionate, but this attention, focused fully on him, is overwhelming; it makes him squirm, makes him itch under his skin. Merlin has lavished him with this kind of intense focus, and he tries to take it, soak it in, as much as he can.
“You act like this is the last time I’m ever going to touch you,” Merlin teased last week, when they had been tangled up on the couch, kissing and touching, slow and easy. “Like you’re trying to catalog everything.”
Arthur flushed. “I’m sorry. I’m not - how would you like me to do this?”
Merlin’s shoulders curved down, an avalanche, and his whole face dipped into his frown. “Arthur,” he said quietly, shaking his head. “You don’t have to worry about that. I like this. I like everything we’ve done, and I know it hasn’t been a lot, recently, but I love every ounce of attention you give to me. I’m not going anywhere. You don’t have to worry.”
“I know. I’m sorry.”
“No, no. Don’t apologize. I’m sorry, that I’ve made you feel like this. Christ, I’m lucky you still even want to be with me after all I’ve put you through.” He kissed him again, lightly. “We’ll take it slow. We’ll get used to each other. Just because we’re completely exclusive doesn’t mean we have to rush things.”
And they haven’t. They don’t. Arthur appreciates it, but it also makes him feel ashamed, like Merlin is being so patient with him, waiting for him, and he’s holding them back. He tried to make it clear to Merlin that he can decide when they become intimate again, and he has a sneaking suspicion that Merlin is waiting until he thinks Arthur is ready. And that’s fine, except that Arthur feels ready. It’s not as if he’s some blushing virgin who hasn’t done this before; he knows that he could enjoy a sexual relationship with him right now if Merlin would only let him.
Still, patience is his greatest talent, and Merlin is worth being patient for.
Merlin giggles against his mouth and pulls away. “You taste like mayonnaise.”
“Must be all the egg salad.”
“Clearly.” He kisses him again. “Thank you for coming out with me today. I’ve had fun.”
“Thank you for making me lunch. You’re sunburned.” Arthur runs his fingers lightly over the pink dusting Merlin’s nose and the apples of his cheeks. “We should have gotten some sun lotion on you.”
“Hindsight.”
“It’s 20/20, for sure.”
The sun begins to set, and Arthur notices with the drooping of his eyelids that they’ve been out in the sunshine for hours. Merlin tugs at a strand of his hair. “No falling asleep in the park,” he murmurs fondly. “Let’s go home.”
***
Arthur steps into the apartment and into a smell so intense that he has to pause to take a deep breath. “What are you cooking?” he asks, toeing his shoes off and wandering in the direction of the kitchen.
Merlin tilts his head up so Arthur can drop a kiss on his cheek. “Shepherd’s pie in the oven. You’re once again not eating enough so I decided to make you dinner.”
“I’m doing my best. I’m just so tired after work.” Arthur slides his arms around Merlin’s waist, hooks his chin over his shoulder, surveying the countertop. “And lemon squares?”
“Yes, but they won’t be ready to eat until tomorrow. You’ll have to wait. Go sit down; I’ll make you some tea.”
Arthur plops down in a stool at the island, watching Merlin work. “You don’t have to do this for me, you know. I appreciate it, a lot; I really do. But it’s a lot of effort to make for me, and I know you have better things you could be doing.”
“You’re my boyfriend, and I’d rather you not die from malnutrition. Besides, I like doing this for you.”
“You work so hard all the time,” Arthur argues. “I know your coursework is difficult; I’ve sat with you while you worked on it. Plus, you work at the coffee shop. Why would you want to add more to your plate?”
“Arthur.” Merlin sighs, sets down the spoon he was using to stir his ingredients. “You are trying, for the first time in your life, to completely support yourself. I’ve done it all my life, helping my mum out and earning my own spending money. I know how to juggle all this. You don’t. You’re just learning, and I’m proud of you for that, and I admire you for it.”
Arthur is oddly touched. “Thank you, Merlin. But I don’t see -”
“Shut up.” Merlin threatens him affectionately with the spoon. “Everyone needs help sometimes. Morgana helps you out by buying you lunch once a week and insisting on taking you shopping for new clothes when you got promoted. I can help you by making you dinner every once in a while. Besides, I like doing it. It’s an enjoyable process for me, and I want to do it. So let me.”
“Thank you.” Arthur smiles a little helplessly at him. “I don’t know what I’d do without you, honestly. I couldn’t have asked for a better flatmate.”
Merlin leans across the counter to kiss him. “No, you couldn’t.”
He serves dinner twenty minutes later, and sits with his arm around Arthur’s waist. They talk about their days while they eat, and Merlin leans his cheek against Arthur’s shoulder every once in a while, like he can’t quite stand to be too far from him, and after they do the washing up, they curl up on the couch for a while to digest, watching some TV movie.
“Merlin?”
“Hm?”
“May I ask you something?”
“Of course.” Merlin noses gently at Arthur’s jaw. “Anything.”
“Why were you alright with sleeping with me before we started dating? I mean. Why then and not after?”
He’s quiet for a long moment, rubbing his thumb against the inside of Arthur’s wrist. “I have this backwards sort of problem,” he admits. “I always imagine that if someone wants to be with me, romantically, that they’ll be okay with not having sex.” He wraps his arms around Arthur’s middle, presses his lips to his pulse point. “I thought, if you wanted to be with me, you would stay. And you did. You were so patient, and kind, and you didn’t pressure me or ask questions, even though you probably wanted to.” He swallows. “I didn’t even realize how I was making you feel until you told me I should’ve just told you I wasn’t attracted to you. I couldn’t fathom how you took that away from our relationship, but it makes sense. I was letting everyone have me but you. How else could that have looked?
“What it came down to is that you made - make - me feel safe. I never got the impression, or had the fear, that you were going to leave me, even if we stopped being lovers, even if we were just friends. I was sure I’d have you forever. I didn’t feel like I had to coerce you into staying. Does this make sense?” Arthur nods, and Merlin smiles. “And for the record, I find you incredibly attractive. You’re the sexiest person I know.”
Arthur blushes at that, smiling down at his lap. “Even sexier than Gwaine?”
“Well, he does have glorious hair.”
“He really does.”
“But not even Gwaine is sexier than you. Even he says so.”
“Does he really?”
“No. He says, ‘If I had to say someone else was as sexy as me, it would be Arthur.’ True story.”
“Was he drunk?”
“Of course.”
Arthur laughs. “Well, you only speak the truth when drunk.”
“Obviously. Now let’s go to bed.”
***
In the end, it’s not a very special night, when it happens.
Business was slow at the bookstore, so Arthur is home early from work. Merlin has taken over the coffee table in the living room and has his earbuds in. His textbooks and notebooks and papers are scattered on the table, in some semblance of order as he revises for his last, and most important, exam of the term.
Arthur tried to help him revise the night before, by quizzing him with organic chemistry flash cards, but when he couldn’t quite pronounce most of the words, Merlin released him, thanking him for trying.
Since he’s not much help with the exam preparation itself, Arthur is going to make the rest of the evening easy for him and so decides to make him dinner. It takes him half an hour, and it’s nothing fancy, but he sets a plate of spaghetti and meatballs in front of him with a cup of tea.
“Take a break,” he suggests, sitting down next to him. “You need to stay fuelled if you want to get through all your material.”
Merlin pulls his earbuds out and slings them around his neck, smiling gratefully at him. “You made spaghetti. I love spaghetti. Thank you.”
Arthur chuckles. “You say it like I made you a gourmet dinner.”
“You may as well have. Seriously, thank you. This is great.” He kisses his cheek.
Arthur squeezes his leg and leaves him to his work, puttering around the kitchen. He takes Merlin’s plate when he’s finished, and refreshes his tea, and does the washing up before retreating to their bedroom to read and relax, letting Merlin focus on his work without any distractions.
He stays up for two hours longer than he usually does, waiting for Merlin to come to bed. When he doesn’t, he finally sets his book aside and turns off the light.
He’s just starting to doze, when the door creaks open, flooding the room with the soft orange light from the lamp Merlin likes to leave on in the living room at night. He closes it tightly behind him, only to turn on the lamp beside the bed, effectively startling Arthur more thoroughly awake.
“Merlin?” he murmurs, leaning up on his elbows and rubbing the heel of his hand against his eye. “What’re you doing?”
Merlin doesn’t say anything, just steps out of his clothes and climbs onto the bed, straddling Arthur’s lap. He cups his face in his hands, drawing him up to kiss him firmly.
Arthur pushes himself up, sliding his hand into Merlin’s hair, his other arm hooking around his waist. He’s not sure what exactly he should be expecting right now, but having Merlin naked in his arms seems to be leading in one direction, particularly when Merlin shifts onto his knees and urges Arthur out of his boxers.
It’s all very slow. It seems like Merlin touches every part of him with his fingers and lips and tongue before lying out on his back and letting Arthur slide his fingers into him, opening him up. Arthur takes his time too. Merlin stares up at him with eyes that look almost bewildered, and keeps his hands on Arthur’s shoulders, like he’s anchoring himself in this moment.
“Are you alright?” Arthur murmurs, dips his head to kiss the corner of his mouth.
“Yes. Of course.” Merlin smiles at him, slides his fingers into his hair and draws him in to kiss him again. He arches up with a little whimper. “Alright, let’s - please.”
He helps Arthur roll on the condom, and then pulls him in to settle between his legs. When he first pushes into him, Merlin presses his fingers tight against Arthur’s shoulder blades, his leg hooking up against his hip.
Arthur kisses his way along the sharp line of his cheekbone, rocking his hips slowly, in a far steadier way than he thought he would. The tense line of Merlin’s shoulders and spine begin to relax, and he lets his hands wander, stroking over the dips and cuts of Arthur’s chest, the swells of his arms.
Arthur can’t stop kissing him, nuzzling in against his neck and pressing his mouth to his throat, to his collarbones and shoulders. He would love to take the time to thoroughly learn his body with his mouth alone, to see what he could coax from his quiet lover if he’s very patient.
Merlin’s thighs press tight to Arthur’s hips, drawing him in and pinning him there, his arms winding around his shoulders. Arthur anchors himself with one arm pressed to the sheets, pressing his other hand under Merlin’s knee, holding him still as he pushes harder, faster. Merlin’s breaths pick up speed as well, coming out almost voiced, little gasps that make Arthur lightheaded.
He’s barely embarrassed when he comes first. It’s enough to make his shoulders go rigid, his muscles seizing all the way down his back, and he goes completely breathless for what feels like several minutes. Merlin is terribly patient, murmuring against his ear, his fingers ghosting along his spine in soothing little pets.
“Sorry,” Arthur laughs, nosing against his cheek and reaching down to curl his hand around Merlin’s cock. He strokes him firmly, pressing his thumb in wet circles around the tip.
“Don’t be.” Merlin presses up into his hand, his hands sliding down to press against the back of Arthur’s thighs, preventing him from pulling out. “I liked it.” He lets out a little mewl of satisfaction when he finishes, practically writhing with it, and the sight of him is enough to stir a little spark of arousal in Arthur’s belly again.
He discards the condom, and Merlin reaches for tissues to clean them both up. They’re quiet, and Merlin wiggles in close to Arthur, tugging at his hands until he wraps his arms around him. He nuzzles against his chest, radiating contentment as Arthur pulls the sheet up around them.
They lay there for a long time, boneless, their fingers moving absently on each other’s skin. Arthur presses a kiss to Merlin’s hair. “Can I ask you something?”
“Hm?” Merlin’s voice is hazy, edged with sleep. “Of course.”
“Why now? I mean. Why tonight?”
He’s quiet for long enough that Arthur thinks he’s fallen asleep, and has almost resigned himself to waiting until morning, when his answer comes: “It was about time, don’t you think?”
Arthur has to agree.