No one else to find (6/6)
Part Six
'Arthur?' Merlin's voice is almost inaudible against the background din of voices and loud, loud music.
'Merlin?' says Arthur. 'Is that you? Where are you?' He has to shout to be heard, and can already feel the sinking, regretful lurch of his stomach as he wonders if he's interrupted something. 'Listen, you sound busy,' he says, but he feeds the machine more change anyway. 'We don't have to talk now if you have other stuff on.'
'Arthur, don't you bloody dare. Stay where you are,' says Merlin, and the line goes silent. A few heart-stopping seconds later, Arthur hears a door slam and the background noise fades away. 'I am not busy,' Merlin continues. 'Has something happened? You never call me.'
Arthur tells him, in a quick, broken rush of words. About how his father finally pushed him too far, about how he couldn't pretend any more, about how, even though he's always thought he'd have a half-decent exit strategy, in the end he just walked. When he finishes, he realises that his voice has become raw and uneven with the effort of recounting what happened.
'Hey, hey. It's alright; everything will be alright,' says Merlin, who is either doing a great job of taking all of this in his stride, or knows how close to hysterical Arthur is. 'Where are you now? Have you got anywhere to stay?'
'I'm in London. I'll find somewhere,' Arthur says. He feels foolish. He wonders if, with the twists and turns and highs and lows of the day, his instincts were off, and calling was a huge mistake. 'Look, I just wanted to tell you what happened. Now that, you know, I can,' he says, trying to go for cocky and nonchalant, but his voice betrays him and the words come out as a choked, devastated sob.
He hears Merlin swear to himself, and on the other end of the line, the door opens, flooding the line with noise again. He hears Merlin shout something that sounds suspiciously like Fuck the fuck off and then it's quiet again.
'Arthur, listen to me,' Merlin says, his voice deadly serious. 'I know Uther doesn't even allow you a bloody debit card. You are not going wandering around with nowhere to stay. Can you get yourself to Heathrow?'
'Yes. Why?'
Merlin laughs. 'Because I've just arrived in Edinburgh, that's why. I'll be on the next flight out of here - no, no arguments - just go to arrivals and wait. Heathrow, yeah? I'll just give Gwaine and Percival back the spare keys to their flat, and I'll be on my way. Stay there; I'll find you.'
'You don't need to do this,' Arthur says.
Merlin makes a frustrated Hmmm sound, and even though they've spent such a little amount of time in each other's company, Arthur knows this is when he should stop arguing. 'Fine,' he says to Merlin. 'I'll be there.'
It's only when he ends the call that he thinks to himself: Since when did Gwaine and Percival share a flat?
Thanks to the sheer number of Tube stops between Kings Cross and Heathrow, Arthur has had plenty of time to figure out what terminal he needs by the time he arrives at the airport.
Security look him up and down. He ignores them. He knows he looks like he's just been in a fight because, well, he has, but he evinces an air of having every right to be there, and they stay away.
He waits, drinking coffee after coffee, trying not to think about the afternoon, and the hotel, and what his father said to him. He tries even harder not to think about the future, because when he does, he feels excited and terrified and it's almost too much to think that this might be everything he's hoped for. Most of all, he wants to see Merlin, and the fact that Merlin wants to see him at least just as much - because, well, why would you fly back from Edinburgh? - makes any wait worth it. He's on his fourth coffee, third muffin and fifth tabloid before he realises he's taken the scrap of paper Merlin gave him more than a year ago out of his pocket, and is turning it over and over in his hands as he waits.
People move in and out of the terminal like traffic. Before he knows it, hours have gone by but there's still no sign of Merlin. The girl who's serving coffee has started to bring refills over to him without being asked. They're on first name terms now, and he's given her the barest bones of his story. It seems she's told security to go easy; they're still giving him a wide berth, but the looks they give him have changed from suspicious to merely interested. He looks up at the arrivals board again. There are two more flights due from Edinburgh tonight, and he's hoping to fuck that Merlin's on one of them; despite his earlier bravado, he doesn't fancy his chances of finding anywhere to stay for the night. Before much longer, exhaustion breaks over him in waves, and he begins to drift off to sleep for a minute or two at a time.
Sometime later - he's not sure exactly how long - he's interrupted from a half-doze by a tentative hand on his shoulder. He looks up, expecting another drink. Instead, his breath catches when he sees Merlin standing in front of him. He's dishevelled from the flight; hair askew, in desperate need of a shave. He looks perfect. He's also grinning from ear to ear, like he can't quite believe Arthur's really there.
That changes rapidly when he gets a clear view of Arthur's face.
'Oh my god,' Merlin says, sitting down with a thump, his hands going to Arthur's. 'What the fuck happened? Was it Uther?'
'Maybe a little bit,' Arthur says, rubbing the back of his head. He wants to slide closer; he wants to be as near to Merlin as he can, but he's not sure how things work in a public space like this, and he's wary of overstepping the mark.
Merlin seems to sense his uncertainty. He sets his bag down and slips one hand around Arthur's waist to bring them together. Arthur closes his eyes, relishing the connection of their arms and knees and chests brushing together gently as Merlin pulls him into a clumsy hug.
'I'm so fucking glad you called me,' he whispers into Arthur's ear, letting his lips brush against the top of his neck before he pulls him even closer.
Arthur tries to answer. He wants to say something important and meaningful and fitting, but he's choked by a wave of something that's so strong and painful that all he can do is nod his heartfelt agreement into Merlin's shoulder. As they hold one another, Arthur swaying slightly in the circle of Merlin's arms, he feels the full force of years of pent up frustration and the strain of hiding who he is, and something in him finally splinters and breaks. Letting it go is so sudden, so wanted, so needed that he has no choice but to let it happen. He's shaking like a leaf and it feels like everything at once: relief, grief, hope. For one awful moment, he thinks that Merlin's shoulder might be muffling his screams, but when he comes back to himself he can't hear anything except the wracking, unsteady heaving of his breath, and Merlin's soothing words, and his arms, anchoring him safely as the world carries on around them, regardless.
When Arthur's finally ready to draw back, any train of thought he might have had is derailed the moment Merlin brings a hand up to touch the side of his face. He does it very gently, avoiding the bruising and grazes, and runs his thumb along Arthur's cheekbone in a slow, achingly tender gesture.
'Are you going to kiss me?' Arthur asks him, hopeful, but still too unfamiliar with this territory to take what he wants.
'Would you like me to?' Merlin replies, smiling as he moves close enough for Arthur to feel the warmth of his breath on his face. He smells of mints and - oddly - herbs, and there's definitely whiskey in there somewhere. Arthur wants more of it, and he nods, nervous and desperate in equal measures.
Even though they are both overtired and overwrought, the first touch of Merlin's lips reinvigorates him in the way that the gallons of coffee he's consumed could not. He opens his mouth, wanting to taste more, wanting to press their bodies closer and closer until he can feel their heartbeats intermingling and he can't tell one from the other.
It's a long journey to Merlin's flat, and they lean companionably against each other on the series of tubes, and then the train, that gets them there. They lean against each other, talking in low voices even when no one else is near enough to listen. Arthur supposes that's his fault, behaviour ingrained from years of fear over the assumptions people might make about him. It's different now, but even with Merlin sitting beside him and no reason not to reach over and take his hand, he finds his natural reticence is an instinct that's hard to override.
'I didn't know Gwaine and Percival were sharing,' Arthur says. 'Actually, I didn't even know Gwaine was studying in Scotland, but then again I haven't seen either of them for a while.'
'He, er, transferred to the same Uni as Percival at the start of this year,' says Merlin.
'What? They missed each other that much?' Arthur jokes.
'Sort of,' Merlin says, carefully, like he's got something else to say and he's weighing up whether or not to say it. Arthur looks up at him.
'Merlin,' Arthur says.
'Well there might be more to their friendship than most people think,' says Merlin, looking a little guilty. 'Actually, there's not a might about it. They, er, got together after that New Year's Party you organised.'
'Bloody hell, no wonder Uther didn't want to let me do it a second time,' says Arthur, grinning. He feels like he should be more surprised, but as soon as he recalls the years of playfighting and drinking competitions and their near indefatigable penchant for arm wrestling, then he finds he's not really that surprised at all.
'I'm sure they wouldn’t have wanted to keep it from you,' Merlin says, ' but hardly anyone knows we're friends, never mind more than that so ...' Merlin takes his hand as he trails off, and looks at him apologetically.
'Well, I'm not ruled by Uther anymore,' says Arthur.
'Don't sell yourself short,' says Merlin. 'You haven’t been for a long time.'
The walk from the railway station to Merlin's flat is, at least, familiar, as is the inordinate amount of fiddling that occurs as he searches through his backpack and every pocket imaginable in order to find his key.
'Ah,' he says, retrieving it with a jingling flourish, 'here we are, at last.'
He pushes the door open, the amber of the streetlight slicing across the sharp angles of his face for an instant before it slams shut, and they're inside.
'Shit, you look knackered,' Merlin says, taking Arthur's coat but otherwise making no effort to move. 'I didn't want to drag you to the airport, but Will's away tonight and Gwen's never here. If they'd been in, you could've come straight over, but I just wanted to be with you as soon as I could. I couldn't bear to think of you waiting here by yourself. What if there hadn't been a flight for hours? What if the train was delayed? What if you'd forgotten where I lived? What if -'
'Merlin,' Arthur says, wrapping his arms around him now it's just the two of them. 'It's alright; I'd have found you.'
The next morning, Arthur wakes with a start and finds himself face to face with some unexpectedly patterned wallpaper.
There's a few seconds of peaceful confusion before the events of the past day hit him full in the face. He blinks and smiles to himself before settling back into the pillows and the protective cradle of Merlin's arms.
He's not used to waking up with someone else wrapped around him. There's only been that one time, when Uther found them, and it was very different to this. He can feel the steady warmth of Merlin's chest pressing against his back, and their legs tangling together. He shifts slightly and sees long, pale arms curving around him, over his own. After a few minutes he realises the rhythmic, unfamiliar sound that he can hear is snoring. He turns carefully, not wanting to disturb him, but needing unequivocal proof that Merlin really is there, nonetheless. Reality, he knows, will set in at some point and he'll have to start thinking about what happens next, but for now he wants to enjoy each moment as it comes.
It's not like he hasn't seen Merlin dozing before, but this time, without the familiar constraints of time or fear, he's free to watch him for as long as he likes. He takes in the rise and fall of his chest and, for a second, he can't quite remember how they even got their clothes off, let alone found their way under the covers. A moment later, he grins when he remembers how, as they stumbled down the hallway to his room, Merlin insisted they needed something to eat first. He remembers too, that when they finally did get to Merlin's room, how they were both cramming toast into their mouths as fast as they could, and that after that, his hands started shaking from sheer exhaustion as he attempted to get his clothes off. He stifles a laugh at the memory of Merlin who had done no better, despite the absolutely filthy promises he'd been making while they waited for their toast in the kitchen, and had nearly caused himself an injury as he attempted to get out of his jeans.
'You're getting crumbs everywhere,' Arthur had laughed, as they lay in a half-clothed, tangled heap on the edge of Merlin's tiny bed. By the time they'd made it under the covers, warm skin sliding against skin, Arthur barely had the energy to tease Merlin for yawning before he felt his own eyes sliding shut.
And now it's morning again. He knows it's a bit wrong, but now he's started, he can't stop from looking at Merlin. The small frown that creases his forehead more often than Arthur wants it to is completely absent, and he's smiling slightly, his eyelids flickering as he dreams. The thought that he could maybe wake up to this as often as he'd like is almost too immense for Arthur to take in, and he shies away from it, afraid to let himself think about something he's wanted so much and for so long. It's almost toe-curlingly sappy, but Merlin's irresistible, even despite the tiny streak of dribble that's escaped from his half-open mouth. Arthur tries to hold back and let him sleep a little longer, but soon there comes a point where it becomes impossible not to lean forward, press a kiss to his lips and watch his eyelids flutter open.
'Good morning,' Merlin says, lopsidedly. 'Or afternoon. Either way,' he says, reaching out to ruffle Arthur's hair, 'I think the word good applies.'
'You snore, and you need a bigger bed, ' says Arthur, but he kisses him again, because what he really means is you look beautiful when you sleep.
'Euuugh, I have morning breath,' says Merlin, but continues kissing him anyway, before leaning up on his elbows and fixing Arthur with an accusatory glare. 'You fell asleep on me,' he says. 'One minute you were telling me off for yawning, and the next, you passed out.'
'Hey,' says Arthur, pulling him back down, 'I had a lot on yesterday.'
'Well,' says Merlin, stretching the word out as he settles back down over the full length of Arthur's body, grinning at their very obvious reactions to the sudden contact, 'if I'm not mistaken, it's the weekend now.'
'Shit, you aren't supposed to be at work, are you?' Arthur says, realising that he has no idea what Merlin does at the weekends.
'Usually,' Merlin says. He shifts again to a more comfortable position, pressing their hips closer as he does, and looks ridiculously pleased with himself when Arthur inhales sharply at the pressure. 'But I'm supposed to be in Scotland this weekend, remember? I've got nothing on till Monday.'
'Good,' says Arthur, 'because I haven't either.'
It's a day of softly murmured affirmations of love, of tentative explorations, and cautiously growing confidence.
Arthur's always known that after a certain point, he'd be the one who was unsure of what he was doing, having almost nothing as a point of reference. The week Morgana was sick had afforded them more time alone than they'd had before and, looking back, it might have been the point at which he knew that things had to change, even if he still didn't know how or when. The problem is, that apart from his father's dire threats, and mutterings - as vague as they were salacious - he'd overheard here and there, Arthur's got very little practical idea of where to go next. He's embarrassed by how lacking this makes him feel, but Merlin isn't having any of it.
'Don't look so worried,' Merlin says. 'All it means is that you haven't watched as much porn as the rest of us. I'm as new to this as you are, but,' he grins from under his fringe, 'I think we should give it a go anyway.'
They get on fairly well with that plan, and by the time they think about getting out of bed it's getting on for early evening.
'Come on,' Merlin says, though the fact that he's kneeling behind Arthur, taking little soft bites out of his shoulder does little to motivate him. 'You can borrow some of Will's stuff if mine doesn't fit. The sooner we shower, and eat, the sooner we can get back to -'
He's cut off by frantic knocking at the door and, without thinking about it, Arthur dives back under the covers.
'Will?' says Merlin and a moment later, having apparently taken that as an invitation, his housemate comes barging in.
'Am I glad you're here, mate,' Will says, and marches over to the bed, waving his phone, seemingly still oblivious to the fact that his friend is wearing nothing but a sheet and there is someone in there with him. 'You will never fucking guess what I've just seen.' He waves the phone at Merlin again, and from the tinny voices Arthur can hear, there's a clip of some sort playing. 'This is your friend, right? And the other bloke's his dad? Can you fucking believe it? His father going for him like that.'
Merlin takes the phone from Will and looks at the screen, his mouth dropping open by increments as the clip plays on. Arthur can't see the screen - doesn't want to see it, really, but the words and voices become more and more familiar until there's absolutely no doubt in his mind about what's they're looking at. The sound cuts off abruptly, and Merlin turns to look at Arthur. Will follows his gaze, and finally figures out that they're not alone.
'Who sent that to you?' says Arthur, with all the authority of someone covered by a very thin sheet.
'Ah. Hi there mate, didn't see you there,' Will says. 'Merlin's friend Elena sent it to me. Apparently it's everywhere; she reckons you could press charges if you wanted to.'
'Oh fuck, no,' says Arthur. He buries his head in his hands, as his short break from reality comes to an abrupt end.
'I'm surprised Elena hasn't called you,' Will says to Merlin. 'She doesn't seem to know where Arthur is,' he looks back to Arthur, ' though judging from the look on your Dad's face, you're well out of that.'
Merlin grabs his phone from under the bed. 'Er. Might have switched it off,' he says with a rueful grin. 'Thirty-six messages. Fuck. Mostly from Elena. Oh, and two from Gwaine and Percival. And one from my Mum. Shit. I'd better call them back.'
'Guess you'll be here for a while, then?' Will says, while mouthing a far from discreet I fucking knew it to Merlin and an even less discreet thumbs up gesture.
'That alright with you?' says Arthur.
Will looks back and forth between them. 'Course it is. You stay as long as you like,' he says. 'Borrow some clothes until you get sorted; we're about the same size.'
Surprisingly, Will turns out to be the most pragmatic about Arthur's situation, and more specifically how to anticipate what Uther will more than likely try to screw up for him. Although Arthur's touched by how Will seems to want to get involved, he simply doesn't know him well enough to tell whether he's naturally helpful to people he doesn't consider utter wankers, or he's just pleased that Merlin has found someone, or maybe a combination of the two.
'He's got a lot of influence with the University, what with all the donations he makes. I think they're naming a new building after him this year,' says Arthur. 'To be honest, I wouldn't be surprised if he'll try to get me thrown off the course.'
'So you get in there first,' says Will. 'Get yourself over there as quick as humanly bloody possible and explain what's happened with your Dad and all. Once they hear how he's been treating you, and how there's evidence of it, they'll be falling over themselves to get away from him. They won't throw you out after that; they wouldn't dare.'
'They might do when they realise I can't afford my tuition fees. Fuck. What am I going to do about that? And rent, and food and ...'
'Don't worry about it for now,' says Merlin, wrapping an arm around him.
'It'll be fine,' Will adds, 'provided you can put up with Merlin.'
'He likes you, that's all,' says Merlin, after Will leaves for his bar shift. 'More people do than you give them credit for, and if they're worth knowing, then being honest about who you are isn't going to change that.'
'Yeah, well I suppose there's no pleasing some people,' Arthur says, and even though he means it light-heartedly, he can't stop Uther and Morgana's faces from flashing through his mind's eye. It's going to be hard to let go, and he's sure Uther isn't going to make it easy for him, but he's getting more and more certain that he'll be able to do it.
He gets up early on Monday and leaves a cup of tea on the bedside table for Merlin before kissing him goodbye and heading straight for the campus. He's set up an email account over the weekend, and exchanged a few messages with his tutor already, so it's not like there'll be any surprises on either side. Still, he wants the opportunity anyway. For one thing, he knows only too well how Uther operates, and he wants to know that his future is secure, at least for the time being.
It's also the reason why, as he rounds the corner that leads up to his tutor's building, that he's not entirely surprised when he sees his father there, waiting. As Arthur nears the doors, Uther moves into his path, blocking his way.
'Arthur,' he says. 'A word, please.'
'I thought I said everything I needed to on Friday,' Arthur says, moving to push past him.
'Not quite,' Uther says. He places a firm hand on Arthur's arm, and though he knows that he's free of all this now, what's harder is shaking off years of doing what he's told without question. He stops, runs a nervous hand through his hair, and waits for his father to speak.
'I suppose you're planning on going in there and telling everyone about what a hard life you've had and all the terrible things I've done to you,' says Uther, in an easy, pleasant tone that does nothing but fill Arthur with dread.
Arthur shrugs, not trusting himself to say anything yet. His father smiles without any humour and lets out an icy chuckle. 'Well, of course you are,' he says, not waiting for an answer, 'but then in most respects you've always been rather transparent, haven't you? '
'And what if I am?' Arthur says. 'It's not like it matters to you anymore.'
'On the contrary,' Uther says, and the chilling smile is back again. 'It matters to me a great deal; I've invested too much here to throw it away, but thanks to the wonders of modern technology, there's already talk of the University discontinuing its association with the Pendragon family, and I will not allow that to happen simply because you cannot conduct yourself appropriately.'
'So,' says Arthur, laughing nervously, 'you saw that YouTube clip, then. And there I was thinking you were here for a reconciliation.'
Uther gives him a look that could strip paint from walls. 'I'm here to give you a choice,' he hisses. 'If you go in there and further sully my reputation, then I feel it's only fair to let you know that I plan to issue a press release later today. It will address the storm that's been brewing since our altercation last week ended up in the public domain and, more importantly, it will allow me to share my side of the story.'
'I'm surprised you haven't had that taken down yet,' Arthur mutters.
'Believe me, my lawyers are working on it,' Uther says, 'however, some damage has already been done, and later I will be expressing my sincere regret at my behaviour, and the ill-chosen words I used.'
'You said something about a choice,' Arthur says, frowning.
'All in good time,' Uther smiles. 'I will also be addressing, as part of my statement, the reasons for my outburst. Chiefly, the pressure you have put your family under, given your unmanageable behaviour for the past few years, your frequent violence and your persistent drug use, despite being offered all the support and treatments available. After that, nothing you have to say will be credible, even with your hard luck story and your pathetic band of supporters.'
'You wouldn't dare,' Arthur says, his temper rising. He knows just as well as Uther does how rumours like this work, no matter how unfounded they are. Any chance of a successful future might well be ruined already.
'I can, and I will,' Uther says, 'and it just so happens that thanks to Dr Gaius' replacement, when your medical records are leaked, they will confirm everything in my statement, not to mention your little side trip to a drug treatment facility in the States a few years back. So,' he says, folding his arms across his chest and leaning back against the wall, 'you might want to think carefully about your next move. If you have any sense at all, you'll drop out of your course, walk away now, and let things carry on as they were.'
'Except that you'll have forced me out,' Arthur says. 'This is my future; what am I supposed to do about that?'
'As you said yourself, it's not like that matters to me anymore,' Uther says, 'but if you decide to go quietly, if you decide against involving the University or the police, then maybe I'll leave you and your friends alone. Of course, I can't imagine your boyfriend will stick around for long once he realises you won't be able to earn enough to keep him, but that's your concern now.'
Arthur forces his expression into the semblance of indifference. Underneath, his mind's an angry, terrified mess, and it's hard to think of doing anything else but agree to Uther's demands. If he defies him, involves the University, tries to strike out on his own, he's pretty much ruined already. If he pits himself against Uther now, then he's setting up a battle that could last for as long as the both of them live. He's not sure if he wants that, and he's not naive enough to think that Uther won't make Merlin, and his family, and his - their - friends part of that. He's not sure that it's worth it.
Arthur takes a deep breath. He's almost ready to concede and walk away, when he remembers something. It's the conversation he had with Merlin the first time they'd seen each other, the first time after Uther found them and everything had gone to hell.
'I should have stood up to him,' Merlin had said. 'I let my fear of him take over. I've regretted it every day since.'
And here I am, about to do the same thing, Arthur thinks, and I'll probably have the same regrets.
He's not stupid; he knows Uther's influence is far-reaching, and he won't hesitate to destroy his opponents, but then again, Arthur has had years to study him. He's seen how he operates, and he knows that his most vulnerable point isn't his lust for power, or his unbending beliefs, or his need for control over others. It's his reputation. It's his pride in the Pendragon name and his mistaken belief in what it stands for.
'I don't think so,' says Arthur, forcing himself to keep calm. 'And if I get so much as a hint that you've been spreading lies about me, then I will make sure that your pet GP is struck off. Don't think I don't know he's been feeding you and Reverend Aredian information about his patients. I'll make sure there's an investigation. How do you think the villagers are going to react when they find out you've been violating their privacy?'
'You'll never prove it,' Uther snaps, and though his expression is still unwaveringly belligerent, he doesn't sound quite so sure of himself now.
'Maybe not,' says Arthur, 'but accusations and an enquiry will be enough to shake their faith in you. Maybe it'll be enough for them to realise what sort of man Uther Pendragon really is. Seems to me you're willing to risk a lot. Do you really want to do that?'
'Don't go in there,' Uther says.
But this time, when Arthur tries to get past, Uther lets him go.
Arthur gets more support at the University than he had anticipated, along with a dawning sense of realisation that there are situations where Uther isn't powerful enough to get what he wants. His tutor assures him his place is safe, and packs him off to an advisor so he can go through everything he needs to do now, from getting loans for his tuition fees, to living expenses, bursaries he can apply for and part time work to fit in with his classes.
'It seems like a lot to think about,' the advisor says, 'especially as this was so ... unexpected, but it's not forever.'
'It's fine,' says Arthur, and he's pretty sure that he means it.
By the time he's finished, he's signed so many forms that he's pretty sure he'll be in debt for the rest of his life, but he feels all the more liberated for it.
On the way back home, he drops by the cafe where Merlin works and waits until he has his break.
'Hey,' says Merlin, sitting down beside him, 'how did it go?'
'Okay, mostly,' Arthur says. 'Bit of a long story really. Nice apron, by the way.'
'You think so?' says Merlin, smoothing his hands down the front of his uniform slowly enough that it starts to drive Arthur a little bit insane, 'because if you like it so much, then they've got some shifts going here. Interested?'
'That sentence so completely didn't end the way I wanted it to,' says Arthur, 'but yeah, I am.'
A few days later, his passport, birth certificate and driving license arrive in the post. No note is attached; it's clear that if he wants anything else, then he'll have to fight for it.
For a while, the clip of Arthur and Uther is everywhere. There's a brief spate of press interest and a couple of pieces in the business papers. They're mainly speculative: talk of investors distancing themselves and an unnamed source defending Uther's business practices. Arthur keeps scanning for a press release, but nothing comes.
News of his estrangement from his father circulates quickly around the university. He's not ashamed of who he is, but the fear and anxiety that dictated his former life is hard to separate from how he thinks people might judge him. Even though it's what he wants, it's hard to relinquish control over their reactions and unlearn the years he spent pretending to be the person he thought he should be.
He's expecting some bad feeling at least, but apart from a few muttered comments that are easily ignored, he finds that people remain mostly the same. Morgana is, on the other hand, an entirely different issue. She hasn't spoken to him yet, other than to make broad, generalised comments about loyalty and betrayal and disappointment within his earshot, but he can tell that she's just biding her time.
What does surprise him is how so many want to have their say, and the glee with which people - most of them practically strangers - want him to start a war with Uther.
'You'll clash, you know. It's inevitable,' one of them nods knowingly. 'You should teach him a lesson, get even, show him what's what,' says another. But whilst Arthur appreciates the support, and part of him can't blame them for wanting to see a really good fight, he knows the difference between him and Uther - one of the many differences - is that he has no desire for his life's success to be judged by how well he subjugates people or forces them to submit to his point of view. It's probably true that his and Uther's paths might cross in the future, but he's not going to fall into the same trap of hating and letting himself be controlled by the very thing he hates.
A few weekends later, Arthur gets his first wages, Merlin swaps a few shifts and they go out for a meal. Will invites himself, and so does Elena, and at the last minute there's the addition of Gwaine and Percival, who are back for a few days. Arthur tells himself that he shouldn't feel nervous. He spends almost an hour picking something out to wear from a selection of clothes that look alien, not just because they're new but because he's chosen them himself.
'I know you're worried; you don't need to be,' says Merlin, slipping his arms around him and leaning forward to nuzzle the back of his neck. 'We'll be gossip for about five minutes, and then Gwaine will be back to bitching at Percival about how many starters he's ordered.'
Arthur leans back. Now that he and Merlin can finally acknowledge what they are to each other he couldn't be happier. They've waited so long he doesn't want to do anything wrong; he's just not sure he knows how to do things right.
'Come on,' Merlin says, and hands him his coat.
It's an easygoing night of catching up and getting to know each other again that goes far too quickly, and it's close to midnight when they stagger out of the pub. The only thing remotely confrontational happens when they leave. Gwaine, a little the worse for wear, proceeds to tell Arthur what he'll do to him if he doesn’t look after Merlin. 'I know what you bloody Pendragons are like,' he slurs, as Percival drags him into a taxi.
'You might want to start the looking after right now,' Gwen laughs, as they watch Merlin almost engage in a fight with his coat as he tries to get it on. 'He's only had two beers. He's a liability.'
'Well, I guess that went alright,' Arthur says, after Merlin's got his coat back under control, and they're trail along behind the others.
'Mmm. Told you,' says Merlin, and pulls Arthur as close as he can.
It takes a while before people stop looking at Arthur as if he's just about to have a breakdown. He can see where they're coming from. After years of living by Uther's rules there should be some sort of fallout, he supposes. In a way, he's almost waiting for something to happen, too.
The after effects, such as they are, are more subtle than that.
For a while, he hardly notices them himself, but they're there in the details. They're there in the way Merlin shoots him worried looks when he waits for permission to do the simplest things. He forgets, sometimes, that he can change the tv channel, or decide what's for dinner, or go to the shops for milk if he wants to. It's just that he's never even thought about this side of him when there's always been so much more to address. When he does, he realises that taking back control of his life will be a longer journey than he's anticipated.
He tries not to think too much about how guilty Merlin looks after he snaps at him or they argue. Arthur's rational enough to know that it's inevitable from time to time, living on top of one another, like they do. The problem is, that doesn't matter to the thing inside him that connects his fear of being abandoned by the people he loves to a fear of getting things wrong. Sometimes, it's so strong that it threatens to overwhelm him.
'I'm not going anywhere' It's something Merlin says many times over during the first few months they live together. 'I'm sorry; I'm just moody sometimes' is another. Other times, he just holds Arthur until he feels him relax.
'I'm sorry,' Arthur always says. He knows he isn't good at this, but he's finding that the harder he tries and the more determined he is to stick with it, the more the fear abates each time. Soon, he's been away from Uther long enough to recognise that whilst the connections and associations he's made might be hard to unpick, he's started to feel them unravelling thread by thread.
Another legacy from his former life, the one that is perhaps the hardest to deal with, is how he behaves around Merlin. It's something he would never have anticipated, and with all the excitement and the changes going on around them, it's something that takes him a while to realise he's doing.
When he figures it out, he's surprised. Shocked, almost. He'd assumed that once he and Merlin started to live their lives the way they wanted, he would be, if anything, the more open and affectionate of the pair. Whilst in private, or if it's something Merlin has initiated, it's something he can hardly get enough of, but he notices that when they're outside the haven of their own room, he is never the one who takes Merlin's hand, or wraps an arm around him, or kisses him hello or goodbye, unless Merlin has done so first. It's not that he doesn't want to, it's just that his instincts never push him that way. He begins to wonder if his capacity for spontaneous affection has been eroded too. His recognition of it does little to change the situation, other than to make his attempts at spontaneity feel more stilted and rehearsed the harder he tries.
Unlike the arguments, Merlin doesn't comment on it, but he doesn't withdraw his affection either. If anything, there's more, and Arthur wonders, given how good everything else is, if this is even an issue. Except that it is an issue to him, that he wants to stop holding back part of himself, but he can't work out how to let it go.
Even though Arthur's intention was to find another house share, if only to give Merlin a bit of space, every time he mentions it he's shouted down by the others. So they stay living together, he and Merlin and Will and Gwen, and the weeks turn to months and finally there's just no point as the lease will be up soon anyway.
'What do you want to do for the summer?' Merlin asks over a beer one afternoon, blinking in the sunlight. It's late May and unusually warm. 'Because you can come and stay with me and my Mum if you like. I was kind of hoping you would, actually.'
'Sounds great,' Arthur smiles, and reminds himself that this is the time he should do something like squeeze Merlin's hand, or move closer. Something like that. Merlin seems to sense his awkwardness and beats him to it, stealing a crisp before swooping in for a sneaky kiss.
Other than Hunith's momentary flinch at the name Pendragon - apparently Dr. Gaius has shared at least some of his story with her - she welcomes Arthur into her house with open arms.
They spend the summer there, both working a succession of seasonal jobs that manage to be exhausting and kind of fun at the same time. There's a sense of freedom there that makes it different to London, different to any of the other times and places they've shared. They spend long evenings at the local pub, Arthur persuading Merlin's friends to dish the dirt on him whilst Merlin alternates between complaining and resting his head against Arthur's shoulder. Some nights they eat outside and spend the evening lying out in Hunith's garden. Other times Arthur's barely put his plate in the sink before Merlin's dragging him upstairs. Best of all, Arthur thinks, is when they curl up against each other in the dark night, sated and ready to drift off to sleep, but already excited about what the next day will bring.
For Arthur's final year at university, and Merlin's first, they rent a flat by themselves. It's a short walk away from Gwen and Lance, who have decided to do the same thing. It's even closer to Will, who is sharing with some work mates now because, as he puts it, someone half-decent has taken Merlin off his hands.
The nearest Arthur gets to hearing about his father is seeing himself occasionally referred to as Uther Pendragon's estranged son in the business press. Morgana still takes the same classes as he does, but instead of sneaking off instead of studying, he sees her now and again on campus, deep in conversation with a blonde, serious looking woman. Morgana barely speaks to him, her anger still tangible, and her sense of puzzlement even more so. It feels like she's waiting for him to beg for her friendship, or tell her how unhappy he is, or how sorry he is that he's caused so much trouble.
Despite the hand she's had in things, he can't bring himself to hate her, or even dislike her that much. Having tried and failed to secure it himself, he knows very well what an alluring thing Uther's approval can be. Still, he doesn't fancy her chances, and as time goes on and it seems she's no closer to getting the recognition she wants from him, he sees the hopeful look on her face turn to bitter discontent, and he wonders if Uther has taken on more than he's bargained for.
It almost no time at all before it's coming up for Christmas again. It brings a smile to Arthur's face every time he thinks about how different it will be from last year, when they were lucky to have an uncertain hour here and there.
He finishes his final class for the week. He's not in the best mood, having being ambushed by Morgana on his way out. Apparently Uther is still furious with him, mostly because his standing in the village has been, as she puts it permanently compromised.
He lets her rail at him until it doesn't look as if she's going to stop any time soon, and finally he has to walk away, biting down his own disappointment at how Uther will probably always think of him as a commodity. He wonders, as Morgana's voice follows him down the corridor, how long it will take for her to realise that for herself, and whether it will matter.
'What's up?' Merlin asks, who is waiting for him just outside the campus gates. 'You look like the world's about to end.'
'Nothing,' Arthur says out of habit, before he remembers that he doesn't have to do this anymore. 'Oh, just Morgana.'
They stop for a beer on the way back home and, after a little coaxing, he tells Merlin about it.
'Well, she can't be happy, can she?' Merlin says. 'After all, he didn't exactly welcome her with open arms after you went. She's probably hanging onto the hope that he'll acknowledge her as his.'
'Maybe,' says Arthur, and shudders at how fucked up that particular situation is. Uther will no more accept her for who she really is than he did Arthur. It might not matter now, but Arthur knows now that one day, it will. He wonders how far-reaching Morgana's anger will be when she realises that everything she's become or changed or given up for Uther Pendragon will have been for nothing.
They leave soon after that, and though Arthur tries not to brood about it too much, he can't quite get Uther, and the way he's behaved towards all of them, out of his mind.
'Fuck,' he says, as they reach the bus stop, shoulders touching, the beer high loosening his tongue a little. 'I'd never treat our children like that, no matter what.'
He goes quiet as he realises what he's just said: Our children. He panics. Maybe he's gone too far; maybe it's too much; maybe it's not what Merlin wants. He almost has to drag his eyes up off the pavement to face him, fearing the worst.
Merlin's look of surprise gives way to affection which, in turn, rapidly transforms into a broad, delighted grin. 'Yeah,' he says, his eyes softening, as a flush creeps slowly across his face, 'let's never, ever do that.'
The flush is echoed by the burning warmth that spreads across Arthur's chest. He takes Merlin's hands, and pulls him forward to kiss him. It lasts long enough for the other people in the queue to offer unsolicited advice on where to get a room, and all the while, Arthur can feel Merlin clinging to him just as tightly as he is holding him. For a few seconds which may, in reality, have been minutes, he presses his face against Merlin's neck and lets himself feel how truly lucky he is.
It's not until they pull apart that he remembers that this time, it was he who had taken Merlin's hands and he who had kissed him. And he had done so without thinking about it. He looks up at Merlin shyly and sees the importance of what's just happened mirrored in his eyes. He's smiling at Arthur as always, but there's something protective and proud in his expression too.
'We've missed the bus,' Merlin says, blinking rapidly as he inclines his head towards the empty shelter. 'We could walk.'
'Why not?' says Arthur. 'You can tell me about your day.' He slips his arm into Merlin's and, just before they pick up speed, presses a quick, solitary kiss into his hair.
End
'Arthur?' Merlin's voice is almost inaudible against the background din of voices and loud, loud music.
'Merlin?' says Arthur. 'Is that you? Where are you?' He has to shout to be heard, and can already feel the sinking, regretful lurch of his stomach as he wonders if he's interrupted something. 'Listen, you sound busy,' he says, but he feeds the machine more change anyway. 'We don't have to talk now if you have other stuff on.'
'Arthur, don't you bloody dare. Stay where you are,' says Merlin, and the line goes silent. A few heart-stopping seconds later, Arthur hears a door slam and the background noise fades away. 'I am not busy,' Merlin continues. 'Has something happened? You never call me.'
Arthur tells him, in a quick, broken rush of words. About how his father finally pushed him too far, about how he couldn't pretend any more, about how, even though he's always thought he'd have a half-decent exit strategy, in the end he just walked. When he finishes, he realises that his voice has become raw and uneven with the effort of recounting what happened.
'Hey, hey. It's alright; everything will be alright,' says Merlin, who is either doing a great job of taking all of this in his stride, or knows how close to hysterical Arthur is. 'Where are you now? Have you got anywhere to stay?'
'I'm in London. I'll find somewhere,' Arthur says. He feels foolish. He wonders if, with the twists and turns and highs and lows of the day, his instincts were off, and calling was a huge mistake. 'Look, I just wanted to tell you what happened. Now that, you know, I can,' he says, trying to go for cocky and nonchalant, but his voice betrays him and the words come out as a choked, devastated sob.
He hears Merlin swear to himself, and on the other end of the line, the door opens, flooding the line with noise again. He hears Merlin shout something that sounds suspiciously like Fuck the fuck off and then it's quiet again.
'Arthur, listen to me,' Merlin says, his voice deadly serious. 'I know Uther doesn't even allow you a bloody debit card. You are not going wandering around with nowhere to stay. Can you get yourself to Heathrow?'
'Yes. Why?'
Merlin laughs. 'Because I've just arrived in Edinburgh, that's why. I'll be on the next flight out of here - no, no arguments - just go to arrivals and wait. Heathrow, yeah? I'll just give Gwaine and Percival back the spare keys to their flat, and I'll be on my way. Stay there; I'll find you.'
'You don't need to do this,' Arthur says.
Merlin makes a frustrated Hmmm sound, and even though they've spent such a little amount of time in each other's company, Arthur knows this is when he should stop arguing. 'Fine,' he says to Merlin. 'I'll be there.'
It's only when he ends the call that he thinks to himself: Since when did Gwaine and Percival share a flat?
Thanks to the sheer number of Tube stops between Kings Cross and Heathrow, Arthur has had plenty of time to figure out what terminal he needs by the time he arrives at the airport.
Security look him up and down. He ignores them. He knows he looks like he's just been in a fight because, well, he has, but he evinces an air of having every right to be there, and they stay away.
He waits, drinking coffee after coffee, trying not to think about the afternoon, and the hotel, and what his father said to him. He tries even harder not to think about the future, because when he does, he feels excited and terrified and it's almost too much to think that this might be everything he's hoped for. Most of all, he wants to see Merlin, and the fact that Merlin wants to see him at least just as much - because, well, why would you fly back from Edinburgh? - makes any wait worth it. He's on his fourth coffee, third muffin and fifth tabloid before he realises he's taken the scrap of paper Merlin gave him more than a year ago out of his pocket, and is turning it over and over in his hands as he waits.
People move in and out of the terminal like traffic. Before he knows it, hours have gone by but there's still no sign of Merlin. The girl who's serving coffee has started to bring refills over to him without being asked. They're on first name terms now, and he's given her the barest bones of his story. It seems she's told security to go easy; they're still giving him a wide berth, but the looks they give him have changed from suspicious to merely interested. He looks up at the arrivals board again. There are two more flights due from Edinburgh tonight, and he's hoping to fuck that Merlin's on one of them; despite his earlier bravado, he doesn't fancy his chances of finding anywhere to stay for the night. Before much longer, exhaustion breaks over him in waves, and he begins to drift off to sleep for a minute or two at a time.
Sometime later - he's not sure exactly how long - he's interrupted from a half-doze by a tentative hand on his shoulder. He looks up, expecting another drink. Instead, his breath catches when he sees Merlin standing in front of him. He's dishevelled from the flight; hair askew, in desperate need of a shave. He looks perfect. He's also grinning from ear to ear, like he can't quite believe Arthur's really there.
That changes rapidly when he gets a clear view of Arthur's face.
'Oh my god,' Merlin says, sitting down with a thump, his hands going to Arthur's. 'What the fuck happened? Was it Uther?'
'Maybe a little bit,' Arthur says, rubbing the back of his head. He wants to slide closer; he wants to be as near to Merlin as he can, but he's not sure how things work in a public space like this, and he's wary of overstepping the mark.
Merlin seems to sense his uncertainty. He sets his bag down and slips one hand around Arthur's waist to bring them together. Arthur closes his eyes, relishing the connection of their arms and knees and chests brushing together gently as Merlin pulls him into a clumsy hug.
'I'm so fucking glad you called me,' he whispers into Arthur's ear, letting his lips brush against the top of his neck before he pulls him even closer.
Arthur tries to answer. He wants to say something important and meaningful and fitting, but he's choked by a wave of something that's so strong and painful that all he can do is nod his heartfelt agreement into Merlin's shoulder. As they hold one another, Arthur swaying slightly in the circle of Merlin's arms, he feels the full force of years of pent up frustration and the strain of hiding who he is, and something in him finally splinters and breaks. Letting it go is so sudden, so wanted, so needed that he has no choice but to let it happen. He's shaking like a leaf and it feels like everything at once: relief, grief, hope. For one awful moment, he thinks that Merlin's shoulder might be muffling his screams, but when he comes back to himself he can't hear anything except the wracking, unsteady heaving of his breath, and Merlin's soothing words, and his arms, anchoring him safely as the world carries on around them, regardless.
When Arthur's finally ready to draw back, any train of thought he might have had is derailed the moment Merlin brings a hand up to touch the side of his face. He does it very gently, avoiding the bruising and grazes, and runs his thumb along Arthur's cheekbone in a slow, achingly tender gesture.
'Are you going to kiss me?' Arthur asks him, hopeful, but still too unfamiliar with this territory to take what he wants.
'Would you like me to?' Merlin replies, smiling as he moves close enough for Arthur to feel the warmth of his breath on his face. He smells of mints and - oddly - herbs, and there's definitely whiskey in there somewhere. Arthur wants more of it, and he nods, nervous and desperate in equal measures.
Even though they are both overtired and overwrought, the first touch of Merlin's lips reinvigorates him in the way that the gallons of coffee he's consumed could not. He opens his mouth, wanting to taste more, wanting to press their bodies closer and closer until he can feel their heartbeats intermingling and he can't tell one from the other.
It's a long journey to Merlin's flat, and they lean companionably against each other on the series of tubes, and then the train, that gets them there. They lean against each other, talking in low voices even when no one else is near enough to listen. Arthur supposes that's his fault, behaviour ingrained from years of fear over the assumptions people might make about him. It's different now, but even with Merlin sitting beside him and no reason not to reach over and take his hand, he finds his natural reticence is an instinct that's hard to override.
'I didn't know Gwaine and Percival were sharing,' Arthur says. 'Actually, I didn't even know Gwaine was studying in Scotland, but then again I haven't seen either of them for a while.'
'He, er, transferred to the same Uni as Percival at the start of this year,' says Merlin.
'What? They missed each other that much?' Arthur jokes.
'Sort of,' Merlin says, carefully, like he's got something else to say and he's weighing up whether or not to say it. Arthur looks up at him.
'Merlin,' Arthur says.
'Well there might be more to their friendship than most people think,' says Merlin, looking a little guilty. 'Actually, there's not a might about it. They, er, got together after that New Year's Party you organised.'
'Bloody hell, no wonder Uther didn't want to let me do it a second time,' says Arthur, grinning. He feels like he should be more surprised, but as soon as he recalls the years of playfighting and drinking competitions and their near indefatigable penchant for arm wrestling, then he finds he's not really that surprised at all.
'I'm sure they wouldn’t have wanted to keep it from you,' Merlin says, ' but hardly anyone knows we're friends, never mind more than that so ...' Merlin takes his hand as he trails off, and looks at him apologetically.
'Well, I'm not ruled by Uther anymore,' says Arthur.
'Don't sell yourself short,' says Merlin. 'You haven’t been for a long time.'
The walk from the railway station to Merlin's flat is, at least, familiar, as is the inordinate amount of fiddling that occurs as he searches through his backpack and every pocket imaginable in order to find his key.
'Ah,' he says, retrieving it with a jingling flourish, 'here we are, at last.'
He pushes the door open, the amber of the streetlight slicing across the sharp angles of his face for an instant before it slams shut, and they're inside.
'Shit, you look knackered,' Merlin says, taking Arthur's coat but otherwise making no effort to move. 'I didn't want to drag you to the airport, but Will's away tonight and Gwen's never here. If they'd been in, you could've come straight over, but I just wanted to be with you as soon as I could. I couldn't bear to think of you waiting here by yourself. What if there hadn't been a flight for hours? What if the train was delayed? What if you'd forgotten where I lived? What if -'
'Merlin,' Arthur says, wrapping his arms around him now it's just the two of them. 'It's alright; I'd have found you.'
The next morning, Arthur wakes with a start and finds himself face to face with some unexpectedly patterned wallpaper.
There's a few seconds of peaceful confusion before the events of the past day hit him full in the face. He blinks and smiles to himself before settling back into the pillows and the protective cradle of Merlin's arms.
He's not used to waking up with someone else wrapped around him. There's only been that one time, when Uther found them, and it was very different to this. He can feel the steady warmth of Merlin's chest pressing against his back, and their legs tangling together. He shifts slightly and sees long, pale arms curving around him, over his own. After a few minutes he realises the rhythmic, unfamiliar sound that he can hear is snoring. He turns carefully, not wanting to disturb him, but needing unequivocal proof that Merlin really is there, nonetheless. Reality, he knows, will set in at some point and he'll have to start thinking about what happens next, but for now he wants to enjoy each moment as it comes.
It's not like he hasn't seen Merlin dozing before, but this time, without the familiar constraints of time or fear, he's free to watch him for as long as he likes. He takes in the rise and fall of his chest and, for a second, he can't quite remember how they even got their clothes off, let alone found their way under the covers. A moment later, he grins when he remembers how, as they stumbled down the hallway to his room, Merlin insisted they needed something to eat first. He remembers too, that when they finally did get to Merlin's room, how they were both cramming toast into their mouths as fast as they could, and that after that, his hands started shaking from sheer exhaustion as he attempted to get his clothes off. He stifles a laugh at the memory of Merlin who had done no better, despite the absolutely filthy promises he'd been making while they waited for their toast in the kitchen, and had nearly caused himself an injury as he attempted to get out of his jeans.
'You're getting crumbs everywhere,' Arthur had laughed, as they lay in a half-clothed, tangled heap on the edge of Merlin's tiny bed. By the time they'd made it under the covers, warm skin sliding against skin, Arthur barely had the energy to tease Merlin for yawning before he felt his own eyes sliding shut.
And now it's morning again. He knows it's a bit wrong, but now he's started, he can't stop from looking at Merlin. The small frown that creases his forehead more often than Arthur wants it to is completely absent, and he's smiling slightly, his eyelids flickering as he dreams. The thought that he could maybe wake up to this as often as he'd like is almost too immense for Arthur to take in, and he shies away from it, afraid to let himself think about something he's wanted so much and for so long. It's almost toe-curlingly sappy, but Merlin's irresistible, even despite the tiny streak of dribble that's escaped from his half-open mouth. Arthur tries to hold back and let him sleep a little longer, but soon there comes a point where it becomes impossible not to lean forward, press a kiss to his lips and watch his eyelids flutter open.
'Good morning,' Merlin says, lopsidedly. 'Or afternoon. Either way,' he says, reaching out to ruffle Arthur's hair, 'I think the word good applies.'
'You snore, and you need a bigger bed, ' says Arthur, but he kisses him again, because what he really means is you look beautiful when you sleep.
'Euuugh, I have morning breath,' says Merlin, but continues kissing him anyway, before leaning up on his elbows and fixing Arthur with an accusatory glare. 'You fell asleep on me,' he says. 'One minute you were telling me off for yawning, and the next, you passed out.'
'Hey,' says Arthur, pulling him back down, 'I had a lot on yesterday.'
'Well,' says Merlin, stretching the word out as he settles back down over the full length of Arthur's body, grinning at their very obvious reactions to the sudden contact, 'if I'm not mistaken, it's the weekend now.'
'Shit, you aren't supposed to be at work, are you?' Arthur says, realising that he has no idea what Merlin does at the weekends.
'Usually,' Merlin says. He shifts again to a more comfortable position, pressing their hips closer as he does, and looks ridiculously pleased with himself when Arthur inhales sharply at the pressure. 'But I'm supposed to be in Scotland this weekend, remember? I've got nothing on till Monday.'
'Good,' says Arthur, 'because I haven't either.'
It's a day of softly murmured affirmations of love, of tentative explorations, and cautiously growing confidence.
Arthur's always known that after a certain point, he'd be the one who was unsure of what he was doing, having almost nothing as a point of reference. The week Morgana was sick had afforded them more time alone than they'd had before and, looking back, it might have been the point at which he knew that things had to change, even if he still didn't know how or when. The problem is, that apart from his father's dire threats, and mutterings - as vague as they were salacious - he'd overheard here and there, Arthur's got very little practical idea of where to go next. He's embarrassed by how lacking this makes him feel, but Merlin isn't having any of it.
'Don't look so worried,' Merlin says. 'All it means is that you haven't watched as much porn as the rest of us. I'm as new to this as you are, but,' he grins from under his fringe, 'I think we should give it a go anyway.'
They get on fairly well with that plan, and by the time they think about getting out of bed it's getting on for early evening.
'Come on,' Merlin says, though the fact that he's kneeling behind Arthur, taking little soft bites out of his shoulder does little to motivate him. 'You can borrow some of Will's stuff if mine doesn't fit. The sooner we shower, and eat, the sooner we can get back to -'
He's cut off by frantic knocking at the door and, without thinking about it, Arthur dives back under the covers.
'Will?' says Merlin and a moment later, having apparently taken that as an invitation, his housemate comes barging in.
'Am I glad you're here, mate,' Will says, and marches over to the bed, waving his phone, seemingly still oblivious to the fact that his friend is wearing nothing but a sheet and there is someone in there with him. 'You will never fucking guess what I've just seen.' He waves the phone at Merlin again, and from the tinny voices Arthur can hear, there's a clip of some sort playing. 'This is your friend, right? And the other bloke's his dad? Can you fucking believe it? His father going for him like that.'
Merlin takes the phone from Will and looks at the screen, his mouth dropping open by increments as the clip plays on. Arthur can't see the screen - doesn't want to see it, really, but the words and voices become more and more familiar until there's absolutely no doubt in his mind about what's they're looking at. The sound cuts off abruptly, and Merlin turns to look at Arthur. Will follows his gaze, and finally figures out that they're not alone.
'Who sent that to you?' says Arthur, with all the authority of someone covered by a very thin sheet.
'Ah. Hi there mate, didn't see you there,' Will says. 'Merlin's friend Elena sent it to me. Apparently it's everywhere; she reckons you could press charges if you wanted to.'
'Oh fuck, no,' says Arthur. He buries his head in his hands, as his short break from reality comes to an abrupt end.
'I'm surprised Elena hasn't called you,' Will says to Merlin. 'She doesn't seem to know where Arthur is,' he looks back to Arthur, ' though judging from the look on your Dad's face, you're well out of that.'
Merlin grabs his phone from under the bed. 'Er. Might have switched it off,' he says with a rueful grin. 'Thirty-six messages. Fuck. Mostly from Elena. Oh, and two from Gwaine and Percival. And one from my Mum. Shit. I'd better call them back.'
'Guess you'll be here for a while, then?' Will says, while mouthing a far from discreet I fucking knew it to Merlin and an even less discreet thumbs up gesture.
'That alright with you?' says Arthur.
Will looks back and forth between them. 'Course it is. You stay as long as you like,' he says. 'Borrow some clothes until you get sorted; we're about the same size.'
Surprisingly, Will turns out to be the most pragmatic about Arthur's situation, and more specifically how to anticipate what Uther will more than likely try to screw up for him. Although Arthur's touched by how Will seems to want to get involved, he simply doesn't know him well enough to tell whether he's naturally helpful to people he doesn't consider utter wankers, or he's just pleased that Merlin has found someone, or maybe a combination of the two.
'He's got a lot of influence with the University, what with all the donations he makes. I think they're naming a new building after him this year,' says Arthur. 'To be honest, I wouldn't be surprised if he'll try to get me thrown off the course.'
'So you get in there first,' says Will. 'Get yourself over there as quick as humanly bloody possible and explain what's happened with your Dad and all. Once they hear how he's been treating you, and how there's evidence of it, they'll be falling over themselves to get away from him. They won't throw you out after that; they wouldn't dare.'
'They might do when they realise I can't afford my tuition fees. Fuck. What am I going to do about that? And rent, and food and ...'
'Don't worry about it for now,' says Merlin, wrapping an arm around him.
'It'll be fine,' Will adds, 'provided you can put up with Merlin.'
'He likes you, that's all,' says Merlin, after Will leaves for his bar shift. 'More people do than you give them credit for, and if they're worth knowing, then being honest about who you are isn't going to change that.'
'Yeah, well I suppose there's no pleasing some people,' Arthur says, and even though he means it light-heartedly, he can't stop Uther and Morgana's faces from flashing through his mind's eye. It's going to be hard to let go, and he's sure Uther isn't going to make it easy for him, but he's getting more and more certain that he'll be able to do it.
He gets up early on Monday and leaves a cup of tea on the bedside table for Merlin before kissing him goodbye and heading straight for the campus. He's set up an email account over the weekend, and exchanged a few messages with his tutor already, so it's not like there'll be any surprises on either side. Still, he wants the opportunity anyway. For one thing, he knows only too well how Uther operates, and he wants to know that his future is secure, at least for the time being.
It's also the reason why, as he rounds the corner that leads up to his tutor's building, that he's not entirely surprised when he sees his father there, waiting. As Arthur nears the doors, Uther moves into his path, blocking his way.
'Arthur,' he says. 'A word, please.'
'I thought I said everything I needed to on Friday,' Arthur says, moving to push past him.
'Not quite,' Uther says. He places a firm hand on Arthur's arm, and though he knows that he's free of all this now, what's harder is shaking off years of doing what he's told without question. He stops, runs a nervous hand through his hair, and waits for his father to speak.
'I suppose you're planning on going in there and telling everyone about what a hard life you've had and all the terrible things I've done to you,' says Uther, in an easy, pleasant tone that does nothing but fill Arthur with dread.
Arthur shrugs, not trusting himself to say anything yet. His father smiles without any humour and lets out an icy chuckle. 'Well, of course you are,' he says, not waiting for an answer, 'but then in most respects you've always been rather transparent, haven't you? '
'And what if I am?' Arthur says. 'It's not like it matters to you anymore.'
'On the contrary,' Uther says, and the chilling smile is back again. 'It matters to me a great deal; I've invested too much here to throw it away, but thanks to the wonders of modern technology, there's already talk of the University discontinuing its association with the Pendragon family, and I will not allow that to happen simply because you cannot conduct yourself appropriately.'
'So,' says Arthur, laughing nervously, 'you saw that YouTube clip, then. And there I was thinking you were here for a reconciliation.'
Uther gives him a look that could strip paint from walls. 'I'm here to give you a choice,' he hisses. 'If you go in there and further sully my reputation, then I feel it's only fair to let you know that I plan to issue a press release later today. It will address the storm that's been brewing since our altercation last week ended up in the public domain and, more importantly, it will allow me to share my side of the story.'
'I'm surprised you haven't had that taken down yet,' Arthur mutters.
'Believe me, my lawyers are working on it,' Uther says, 'however, some damage has already been done, and later I will be expressing my sincere regret at my behaviour, and the ill-chosen words I used.'
'You said something about a choice,' Arthur says, frowning.
'All in good time,' Uther smiles. 'I will also be addressing, as part of my statement, the reasons for my outburst. Chiefly, the pressure you have put your family under, given your unmanageable behaviour for the past few years, your frequent violence and your persistent drug use, despite being offered all the support and treatments available. After that, nothing you have to say will be credible, even with your hard luck story and your pathetic band of supporters.'
'You wouldn't dare,' Arthur says, his temper rising. He knows just as well as Uther does how rumours like this work, no matter how unfounded they are. Any chance of a successful future might well be ruined already.
'I can, and I will,' Uther says, 'and it just so happens that thanks to Dr Gaius' replacement, when your medical records are leaked, they will confirm everything in my statement, not to mention your little side trip to a drug treatment facility in the States a few years back. So,' he says, folding his arms across his chest and leaning back against the wall, 'you might want to think carefully about your next move. If you have any sense at all, you'll drop out of your course, walk away now, and let things carry on as they were.'
'Except that you'll have forced me out,' Arthur says. 'This is my future; what am I supposed to do about that?'
'As you said yourself, it's not like that matters to me anymore,' Uther says, 'but if you decide to go quietly, if you decide against involving the University or the police, then maybe I'll leave you and your friends alone. Of course, I can't imagine your boyfriend will stick around for long once he realises you won't be able to earn enough to keep him, but that's your concern now.'
Arthur forces his expression into the semblance of indifference. Underneath, his mind's an angry, terrified mess, and it's hard to think of doing anything else but agree to Uther's demands. If he defies him, involves the University, tries to strike out on his own, he's pretty much ruined already. If he pits himself against Uther now, then he's setting up a battle that could last for as long as the both of them live. He's not sure if he wants that, and he's not naive enough to think that Uther won't make Merlin, and his family, and his - their - friends part of that. He's not sure that it's worth it.
Arthur takes a deep breath. He's almost ready to concede and walk away, when he remembers something. It's the conversation he had with Merlin the first time they'd seen each other, the first time after Uther found them and everything had gone to hell.
'I should have stood up to him,' Merlin had said. 'I let my fear of him take over. I've regretted it every day since.'
And here I am, about to do the same thing, Arthur thinks, and I'll probably have the same regrets.
He's not stupid; he knows Uther's influence is far-reaching, and he won't hesitate to destroy his opponents, but then again, Arthur has had years to study him. He's seen how he operates, and he knows that his most vulnerable point isn't his lust for power, or his unbending beliefs, or his need for control over others. It's his reputation. It's his pride in the Pendragon name and his mistaken belief in what it stands for.
'I don't think so,' says Arthur, forcing himself to keep calm. 'And if I get so much as a hint that you've been spreading lies about me, then I will make sure that your pet GP is struck off. Don't think I don't know he's been feeding you and Reverend Aredian information about his patients. I'll make sure there's an investigation. How do you think the villagers are going to react when they find out you've been violating their privacy?'
'You'll never prove it,' Uther snaps, and though his expression is still unwaveringly belligerent, he doesn't sound quite so sure of himself now.
'Maybe not,' says Arthur, 'but accusations and an enquiry will be enough to shake their faith in you. Maybe it'll be enough for them to realise what sort of man Uther Pendragon really is. Seems to me you're willing to risk a lot. Do you really want to do that?'
'Don't go in there,' Uther says.
But this time, when Arthur tries to get past, Uther lets him go.
Arthur gets more support at the University than he had anticipated, along with a dawning sense of realisation that there are situations where Uther isn't powerful enough to get what he wants. His tutor assures him his place is safe, and packs him off to an advisor so he can go through everything he needs to do now, from getting loans for his tuition fees, to living expenses, bursaries he can apply for and part time work to fit in with his classes.
'It seems like a lot to think about,' the advisor says, 'especially as this was so ... unexpected, but it's not forever.'
'It's fine,' says Arthur, and he's pretty sure that he means it.
By the time he's finished, he's signed so many forms that he's pretty sure he'll be in debt for the rest of his life, but he feels all the more liberated for it.
On the way back home, he drops by the cafe where Merlin works and waits until he has his break.
'Hey,' says Merlin, sitting down beside him, 'how did it go?'
'Okay, mostly,' Arthur says. 'Bit of a long story really. Nice apron, by the way.'
'You think so?' says Merlin, smoothing his hands down the front of his uniform slowly enough that it starts to drive Arthur a little bit insane, 'because if you like it so much, then they've got some shifts going here. Interested?'
'That sentence so completely didn't end the way I wanted it to,' says Arthur, 'but yeah, I am.'
A few days later, his passport, birth certificate and driving license arrive in the post. No note is attached; it's clear that if he wants anything else, then he'll have to fight for it.
For a while, the clip of Arthur and Uther is everywhere. There's a brief spate of press interest and a couple of pieces in the business papers. They're mainly speculative: talk of investors distancing themselves and an unnamed source defending Uther's business practices. Arthur keeps scanning for a press release, but nothing comes.
News of his estrangement from his father circulates quickly around the university. He's not ashamed of who he is, but the fear and anxiety that dictated his former life is hard to separate from how he thinks people might judge him. Even though it's what he wants, it's hard to relinquish control over their reactions and unlearn the years he spent pretending to be the person he thought he should be.
He's expecting some bad feeling at least, but apart from a few muttered comments that are easily ignored, he finds that people remain mostly the same. Morgana is, on the other hand, an entirely different issue. She hasn't spoken to him yet, other than to make broad, generalised comments about loyalty and betrayal and disappointment within his earshot, but he can tell that she's just biding her time.
What does surprise him is how so many want to have their say, and the glee with which people - most of them practically strangers - want him to start a war with Uther.
'You'll clash, you know. It's inevitable,' one of them nods knowingly. 'You should teach him a lesson, get even, show him what's what,' says another. But whilst Arthur appreciates the support, and part of him can't blame them for wanting to see a really good fight, he knows the difference between him and Uther - one of the many differences - is that he has no desire for his life's success to be judged by how well he subjugates people or forces them to submit to his point of view. It's probably true that his and Uther's paths might cross in the future, but he's not going to fall into the same trap of hating and letting himself be controlled by the very thing he hates.
A few weekends later, Arthur gets his first wages, Merlin swaps a few shifts and they go out for a meal. Will invites himself, and so does Elena, and at the last minute there's the addition of Gwaine and Percival, who are back for a few days. Arthur tells himself that he shouldn't feel nervous. He spends almost an hour picking something out to wear from a selection of clothes that look alien, not just because they're new but because he's chosen them himself.
'I know you're worried; you don't need to be,' says Merlin, slipping his arms around him and leaning forward to nuzzle the back of his neck. 'We'll be gossip for about five minutes, and then Gwaine will be back to bitching at Percival about how many starters he's ordered.'
Arthur leans back. Now that he and Merlin can finally acknowledge what they are to each other he couldn't be happier. They've waited so long he doesn't want to do anything wrong; he's just not sure he knows how to do things right.
'Come on,' Merlin says, and hands him his coat.
It's an easygoing night of catching up and getting to know each other again that goes far too quickly, and it's close to midnight when they stagger out of the pub. The only thing remotely confrontational happens when they leave. Gwaine, a little the worse for wear, proceeds to tell Arthur what he'll do to him if he doesn’t look after Merlin. 'I know what you bloody Pendragons are like,' he slurs, as Percival drags him into a taxi.
'You might want to start the looking after right now,' Gwen laughs, as they watch Merlin almost engage in a fight with his coat as he tries to get it on. 'He's only had two beers. He's a liability.'
'Well, I guess that went alright,' Arthur says, after Merlin's got his coat back under control, and they're trail along behind the others.
'Mmm. Told you,' says Merlin, and pulls Arthur as close as he can.
It takes a while before people stop looking at Arthur as if he's just about to have a breakdown. He can see where they're coming from. After years of living by Uther's rules there should be some sort of fallout, he supposes. In a way, he's almost waiting for something to happen, too.
The after effects, such as they are, are more subtle than that.
For a while, he hardly notices them himself, but they're there in the details. They're there in the way Merlin shoots him worried looks when he waits for permission to do the simplest things. He forgets, sometimes, that he can change the tv channel, or decide what's for dinner, or go to the shops for milk if he wants to. It's just that he's never even thought about this side of him when there's always been so much more to address. When he does, he realises that taking back control of his life will be a longer journey than he's anticipated.
He tries not to think too much about how guilty Merlin looks after he snaps at him or they argue. Arthur's rational enough to know that it's inevitable from time to time, living on top of one another, like they do. The problem is, that doesn't matter to the thing inside him that connects his fear of being abandoned by the people he loves to a fear of getting things wrong. Sometimes, it's so strong that it threatens to overwhelm him.
'I'm not going anywhere' It's something Merlin says many times over during the first few months they live together. 'I'm sorry; I'm just moody sometimes' is another. Other times, he just holds Arthur until he feels him relax.
'I'm sorry,' Arthur always says. He knows he isn't good at this, but he's finding that the harder he tries and the more determined he is to stick with it, the more the fear abates each time. Soon, he's been away from Uther long enough to recognise that whilst the connections and associations he's made might be hard to unpick, he's started to feel them unravelling thread by thread.
Another legacy from his former life, the one that is perhaps the hardest to deal with, is how he behaves around Merlin. It's something he would never have anticipated, and with all the excitement and the changes going on around them, it's something that takes him a while to realise he's doing.
When he figures it out, he's surprised. Shocked, almost. He'd assumed that once he and Merlin started to live their lives the way they wanted, he would be, if anything, the more open and affectionate of the pair. Whilst in private, or if it's something Merlin has initiated, it's something he can hardly get enough of, but he notices that when they're outside the haven of their own room, he is never the one who takes Merlin's hand, or wraps an arm around him, or kisses him hello or goodbye, unless Merlin has done so first. It's not that he doesn't want to, it's just that his instincts never push him that way. He begins to wonder if his capacity for spontaneous affection has been eroded too. His recognition of it does little to change the situation, other than to make his attempts at spontaneity feel more stilted and rehearsed the harder he tries.
Unlike the arguments, Merlin doesn't comment on it, but he doesn't withdraw his affection either. If anything, there's more, and Arthur wonders, given how good everything else is, if this is even an issue. Except that it is an issue to him, that he wants to stop holding back part of himself, but he can't work out how to let it go.
Even though Arthur's intention was to find another house share, if only to give Merlin a bit of space, every time he mentions it he's shouted down by the others. So they stay living together, he and Merlin and Will and Gwen, and the weeks turn to months and finally there's just no point as the lease will be up soon anyway.
'What do you want to do for the summer?' Merlin asks over a beer one afternoon, blinking in the sunlight. It's late May and unusually warm. 'Because you can come and stay with me and my Mum if you like. I was kind of hoping you would, actually.'
'Sounds great,' Arthur smiles, and reminds himself that this is the time he should do something like squeeze Merlin's hand, or move closer. Something like that. Merlin seems to sense his awkwardness and beats him to it, stealing a crisp before swooping in for a sneaky kiss.
Other than Hunith's momentary flinch at the name Pendragon - apparently Dr. Gaius has shared at least some of his story with her - she welcomes Arthur into her house with open arms.
They spend the summer there, both working a succession of seasonal jobs that manage to be exhausting and kind of fun at the same time. There's a sense of freedom there that makes it different to London, different to any of the other times and places they've shared. They spend long evenings at the local pub, Arthur persuading Merlin's friends to dish the dirt on him whilst Merlin alternates between complaining and resting his head against Arthur's shoulder. Some nights they eat outside and spend the evening lying out in Hunith's garden. Other times Arthur's barely put his plate in the sink before Merlin's dragging him upstairs. Best of all, Arthur thinks, is when they curl up against each other in the dark night, sated and ready to drift off to sleep, but already excited about what the next day will bring.
For Arthur's final year at university, and Merlin's first, they rent a flat by themselves. It's a short walk away from Gwen and Lance, who have decided to do the same thing. It's even closer to Will, who is sharing with some work mates now because, as he puts it, someone half-decent has taken Merlin off his hands.
The nearest Arthur gets to hearing about his father is seeing himself occasionally referred to as Uther Pendragon's estranged son in the business press. Morgana still takes the same classes as he does, but instead of sneaking off instead of studying, he sees her now and again on campus, deep in conversation with a blonde, serious looking woman. Morgana barely speaks to him, her anger still tangible, and her sense of puzzlement even more so. It feels like she's waiting for him to beg for her friendship, or tell her how unhappy he is, or how sorry he is that he's caused so much trouble.
Despite the hand she's had in things, he can't bring himself to hate her, or even dislike her that much. Having tried and failed to secure it himself, he knows very well what an alluring thing Uther's approval can be. Still, he doesn't fancy her chances, and as time goes on and it seems she's no closer to getting the recognition she wants from him, he sees the hopeful look on her face turn to bitter discontent, and he wonders if Uther has taken on more than he's bargained for.
It almost no time at all before it's coming up for Christmas again. It brings a smile to Arthur's face every time he thinks about how different it will be from last year, when they were lucky to have an uncertain hour here and there.
He finishes his final class for the week. He's not in the best mood, having being ambushed by Morgana on his way out. Apparently Uther is still furious with him, mostly because his standing in the village has been, as she puts it permanently compromised.
He lets her rail at him until it doesn't look as if she's going to stop any time soon, and finally he has to walk away, biting down his own disappointment at how Uther will probably always think of him as a commodity. He wonders, as Morgana's voice follows him down the corridor, how long it will take for her to realise that for herself, and whether it will matter.
'What's up?' Merlin asks, who is waiting for him just outside the campus gates. 'You look like the world's about to end.'
'Nothing,' Arthur says out of habit, before he remembers that he doesn't have to do this anymore. 'Oh, just Morgana.'
They stop for a beer on the way back home and, after a little coaxing, he tells Merlin about it.
'Well, she can't be happy, can she?' Merlin says. 'After all, he didn't exactly welcome her with open arms after you went. She's probably hanging onto the hope that he'll acknowledge her as his.'
'Maybe,' says Arthur, and shudders at how fucked up that particular situation is. Uther will no more accept her for who she really is than he did Arthur. It might not matter now, but Arthur knows now that one day, it will. He wonders how far-reaching Morgana's anger will be when she realises that everything she's become or changed or given up for Uther Pendragon will have been for nothing.
They leave soon after that, and though Arthur tries not to brood about it too much, he can't quite get Uther, and the way he's behaved towards all of them, out of his mind.
'Fuck,' he says, as they reach the bus stop, shoulders touching, the beer high loosening his tongue a little. 'I'd never treat our children like that, no matter what.'
He goes quiet as he realises what he's just said: Our children. He panics. Maybe he's gone too far; maybe it's too much; maybe it's not what Merlin wants. He almost has to drag his eyes up off the pavement to face him, fearing the worst.
Merlin's look of surprise gives way to affection which, in turn, rapidly transforms into a broad, delighted grin. 'Yeah,' he says, his eyes softening, as a flush creeps slowly across his face, 'let's never, ever do that.'
The flush is echoed by the burning warmth that spreads across Arthur's chest. He takes Merlin's hands, and pulls him forward to kiss him. It lasts long enough for the other people in the queue to offer unsolicited advice on where to get a room, and all the while, Arthur can feel Merlin clinging to him just as tightly as he is holding him. For a few seconds which may, in reality, have been minutes, he presses his face against Merlin's neck and lets himself feel how truly lucky he is.
It's not until they pull apart that he remembers that this time, it was he who had taken Merlin's hands and he who had kissed him. And he had done so without thinking about it. He looks up at Merlin shyly and sees the importance of what's just happened mirrored in his eyes. He's smiling at Arthur as always, but there's something protective and proud in his expression too.
'We've missed the bus,' Merlin says, blinking rapidly as he inclines his head towards the empty shelter. 'We could walk.'
'Why not?' says Arthur. 'You can tell me about your day.' He slips his arm into Merlin's and, just before they pick up speed, presses a quick, solitary kiss into his hair.
End