The Meaning of Courage 5/7
Title: The Meaning of Courage 5/7
Summary: In which Arthur finally does something relatively brave, Merlin gets annoyed and slightly frustrated and whacks out the comfort food, Arthur says it like it is and Morgana lays down the ground rules.
Rating: PG-13
Beta'd by: The truly wonderful lasvegas_lights
Spoilers: N/A
Disclaimer: I still don't own Merlin or any of the characters. (Apart from the secretary.)
A/N: So, in writing the second half of this chapter, I decided that things weren't going to work the way I'd originally planned them to. That's why the summary has changed and I'm reposting the entire thing in chapter again in one go. I would say feel free to skip over the start and get to the new part, but it's been so long since I uploaded that you've probably forgotten. *Fail*
Also, thanks to Anigram for help with the summary. I dedicate this to you. XD
When Arthur had told Merlin that he liked to take photos of everyone and everything that meant something to him, Merlin had expected a relatively large amount of photos as Arthur was one of the most popular people he knew. He imagined there would be lots of pictures of Arthur's friends, so he was extremely surprised when Arthur finally offered to show Merlin his portfolio.
“Now that we’re a thing,” Arthur had explained to him, holding him close, arms around Merlin’s skinny waist. “I guess I’ll show them to you. That is, if you want to.” He said, with only one thin folder to nervously offer him.
“I thought you had more than this.” Merlin mused, spreading them out on Arthur’s bedcovers. He smiled at the one of Morgana and Leon. They looked a little younger, Leon’s hair was shorter and Morgana wasn’t pregnant and Leon was stood behind Morgana holding her close to his chest, chin resting on the top of her head. They were both smiling widely, extremely content to have their photo taken. The lighting was a little off, but Merlin thought it added to the feel of the photo, it all looked so natural.
Arthur huffed, poking Merlin with his foot from the safety of his desk chair (his room in the University halls was so small that even if he stood on the other side of the room, he was still within touching distance of Merlin). “I do have more yes. But the ones you’ve got are the good ones, you know, the ones of people I care about.” He blushed a little. He’d never been one for talking about personal matters and it made him feel awkward. “The other ones were just taken for fun, you know? Plants and stuff.”
“Can I see them?” Merlin looked up at him eagerly, carefully placing the photos he had back in the folder.
“If you must.”
“Oh, I must.” Merlin grinned as Arthur made a show of heaving himself out of his chair to reach underneath his bed. He watched as Arthur pulled out a large ring-bound folder, arms tensing under the weight.
“They’re not very good.” Arthur sat back down heavily, slouching in his seat. .No matter who it was, having someone look at your work, judging it, was hard, espeically when that someone was an artist who not only knew a thing or two about this kind of thing but was also someone Arthur cared about. Merlin's opinion mattered to Arthur.
“Arthur, you’re an idiot!” Merlin suddenly exclaimed, making Arthur jump, then frown in confusion. “These are all incredible!” he flinched as Merlin swatted him on the knee. “How can you not see that these are amazing?” Merlin continued without taking a breath, gesturing to one of the photos in the folder. “I mean, look at this. Really look at it. People train for years to be able to do this, and you’ve done it with no training whatsoever and a depressingly shit digital camera.”
“Hey! There’s nothing wrong with my digital camera!”
“Arthur, when you picked it up just then to comfort it, the lens fell out.” Merlin said matter-of-factly, watching him accusingly through the flicks of hair that fell over his face.
“That always happens.”
“That’s not meant to happen. Ever.” Admitting defeat, Merlin turned back to the picture. “Where did you take this?”
Arthur leaned over to take a look, taking a moment to try and remember. “Uh. Oh yeah! It was at one of Morgana’s friend’s weddings. The photographer bailed, so Morgana signed me up to take the photos. The bride didn’t like this one when I printed them, so told me to keep it.”
Merlin snorted. “Was she stupid? This photo’s brilliant.” He tilted his head a little to look at it from a better angle - the bride was laughing as the wind whipped her veil around her face, trying to keep the delicate material of her dress off of the ground. She was surrounded by other smiling people, trying to help her to keep the veil under control and usher her toward the safety of the church behind her.
“It’s alright I guess. I can see why she didn’t like it.” He gestured vaguely toward the photo. “The lighting’s all weird.” He frowned at Merlin’s judgmental look. “What?”
“Shut up. Your photos are awesome. And if you don’t accept that and embrace your obvious talent, you are as much of an idiot as that bride was for not liking your photo.”
Arthur blushed deeply, trying to hide his embarrassment by playfully shoving Merlin’s shoulder. Merlin very childishly (in Arthur’s opinion) retaliated by swatting him over the head with the plastic wallet that held the photo. “Hey! What was that for?”
“What was that - Really? You’re an idiot.”
“Well, at least I’m not a clotpole.”
Merlin stared at him for a moment, eyebrow rising slowly. “What does that even mean?”
“I have no idea.”
*****
“Merlin told me I should show off my photos. Like in an art gallery or something.” Arthur peered over the two sheets of wallpaper that Morgana was making him hold up for her to look at.
She looked up from the washing she was carefully folding and frowned a little. “And what do you make of that?” She had insisted that Arthur hold up the wallpaper while she did her usual routine, claiming that it would help her get a ‘feel’ of the wallpaper. Arthur was convinced it was just punishment for not telling her that he and Merlin were officially together sooner as soon as he knew.
“I’m your sister,” she had said, in a tone that was way too dramatic for the situation. “You’re supposed to tell me everything.”
“Well, I don’t know.” He sighed heavily, dropping his arms to his side. As a pair of balled up socks came flying towards his face, he very quickly held the samples back up. “Sorry. But, it’s just, would anyone actually like them? Or would I just embarrass myself? Let’s be honest, I don’t belong in art galleries. I don’t even know where they are!”
“You walk past them every time you go to the library, you idiot.” She tutted, tilting her head to one side to look at the wallpaper he was holding. She screwed one eye shut and raised a hand to block one of them from her view, paused for a moment, before doing the same to the other.
“Is that what those buildings are?” He laughed a little. “I’ve always wondered.”
Morgana shook her head in exasperation, gently placing the folded washing back into the wash basket. “Back to the point - of course people would like your photos, Arthur. They’re incredible!” She pointed towards a frame on the wall behind her. “Look, I even deemed one of them good enough to put in my house.” She couldn’t help but smile fondly at the small grin of pride that unconsciously crossed his face. “Why shouldn’t you do an exhibit? I say go for it.”
“Thanks Morgana. But what about Father?”
“What about him?” She folded her arms across her chest, leaning back in her chair. “I don’t like either of those patterns. Hold up the next two?”
Arthur sighed, slowly rolling up the two samples he currently had and randomly selecting two others from the ridiculously large pile that his sister had amassed. “Well, should I tell him?”
“About the exhibition? Or about you or Merlin?” She asked, ignoring his look of shock. As usual, she had instantly guessed that it wasn’t just photography that was playing on his mind. Ever since he and Merlin had become official, as it were, Arthur had been fretting over whether or not he should tell his father, and the best time to if he did.
“How did you-?” He began, but was quickly cut off by Morgana holding up her hand.
“Don’t even insult your intelligence by asking that. We both know full well that I always know what’s bothering you.”
“True.” He sighed, arms aching from the effort of holding them up for so long. “If you’re asking, both of them, actually.”
“Well,” Morgana said calmly, her tone fond. As much as she insulted him and forced him to do her bidding, Morgana really cared about Arthur, he was her baby brother after all. “Why don’t you invite Father along to your exhibition, when you get your arse into gear and apply, and, maybe, if they decide that you’re good enough, that would be the perfect time to introduce Merlin to him as your boyfriend.”
“That’s a good idea,” Arthur said, smiling widely, clearly relieved that it could be resolved so simply. “Why didn’t I think of that?”
“Because, dear brother, you are not nearly as smart as me.” She smiled innocently, gently folding her hands over her stomach. She frowned as he snorted in disbelief.
“Can I put these down now?” He asked desperately, gesturing to the wallpaper.
“No. I still haven’t forgiven you for not telling me about you and Merlin as soon as it happened. You know I like to stay in the loop. Now, let’s have a look at the next two.”
“Seriously?” Arthur looked distressed.
“Seriously.” Morgana’s face was stern - She meant business.
*****
“Just send him an email.”
“Isn’t that a bit impersonal?” Arthur ran a frantic hand through his hair as he leant back heavily in his chair.
“Not necessarily. Unless you want to call him. Or go and see him personally.” Merlin laughed as Arthur instantly shook his head in horror. “Send him an email then.” They’d been sat like this for the last twenty minutes and despite Merlin’s best efforts, the conversation had barely moved on, and Arthur was definitely no closer to making a decision.
“What should I say?” Arthur frowned, hands poised ready over the keys of his laptop. “Do I even have to invite him?” His expression was hopeful as he peered over the top of his screen at Merlin. He knew that he had a lot to talk to his Father about that he’d been putting off for way too long, but still. Uther Pendragon was intimidating.
“Of course you do!” Merlin tutted, casually spearing a piece of pasta on his fork. Arthur had cornered him in the University College’s dining hall during lunch, plonked himself, his lecture notes and his laptop down opposite him and asked, well, more demanded, that Merlin help him because he was ‘better with all that personal, feelings stuff’. “Besides, you were the one who said you wanted to invite him.” He chewed the pasta slowly,
watching Arthur carefully.
“Yeah, but…” Arthur scowled when Merlin chased his hand away from his plate with his fork.
“Get your own.” He scolded. “But what? You either want to invite him or you don’t.”
“I do,” Arthur began slowly, ignoring Merlin’s sigh of frustration when he stole a sip of his water. “But, are photography exhibitions really his thing?” When Arthur had received an email from the gallery director in response to his application, he’d been insufferably smug for the entire morning (in Merlin’s opinion). But it had been short-lived when Arthur had realized that he had no excuse not to invite his Father.
“How am I supposed to know? I’ve never met the man. The only thing I know about him is that he keeps a very tidy cupboard.” Arthur smirked, thinking back to their escapades in his Father’s office. Merlin’s look of complete disapproval stopped him from voicing any inappropriate thoughts that had popped into mind. Merlin, for some reason, was utterly convinced that Arthur only ever thought about carnal things. Arthur maintained vehemently that it was only true some of the time.
“Why don’t you just ask him? If he says no, well, he’s an idiot. But if he says yes then that’s fantastic. What have you got to lose?” Merlin turned back to his pasta, stabbing several pieces on his fork. As soon as he went to put them in his mouth, as if on cue, Arthur slammed his laptop shut, making Merlin jump and drop all the pasta he’d carefully selected. Frowning, and with an angry remark ready on his tongue, Merlin looked up at Arthur, only to close his mouth and sigh softly. Arthur had dropped his head onto the table in frustration, and tangled his hands so tightly in his hair that Merlin could almost feel the tugging himself.
“I can’t do this!” He cried, voice muffled by the thick wood of the table.
Merlin rested his hand comfortingly on Arthur’s head, gently removing Arthur’s fingers from his hair. “Yes you can,” He murmured, carefully replacing Arthur’s fingers with his own. “I’ll help you, if you like?”
“Really?” Arthur turned his head to the side, peering up at him. “You’d do that? But aren’t you really busy?”
“Of course I’ll help.” He gently brushed the hair out of Arthur’s eyes, teasing out a small knot between his fingers. “Coursework can wait a few more hours.” He said, surprising himself with how calm he sounded. He’d been trying not to think about how behind everyone else he was - what with worrying about his mother, worrying about Arthur and all the stress he seemed to bring along with him, he’d pushed it aside. “I’ll be fine.”
“Thanks, Merlin, I really appreciate it.” Arthur turned his head to press a kiss to Merlin’s palm, before grinning wickedly and grabbing a piece of pasta from Merlin’s plate.
“Hey! That’s mine!”
“You’re just too slow for me.” Arthur looked far too smug as he chewed his prize slowly. His expression quickly changed to a frown when Merlin flicked him on the nose and leant back in his chair, arms folded.
“Shan’t help you now.”
“Aww, come on Merlin, I need your help.”
“Nope. Not after stealing my food.”
“Really?”
“Well, maybe if you beg.” Merlin laughed at Arthur’s put-out expression. “I mean it.”
“Are you serious?” Arthur asked incredulously, feeling a strange sense of de ja vu. Didn’t he have a conversation that ended like this only this morning?
Merlin's eyes narrowed, “Deadly.”
*****
As he was growing up, the only time Arthur stood outside his Father’s office at work was when he’d been summoned after school because Uther had found out about some trouble he’d gotten into or because he’d failed a test or didn’t make the grade in some coursework. Being concerned and generally happy to stick their nose where it wasn’t wanted, his teacher had called his Father on more than one occasion to express their “disappointment”. It usually led to Arthur being shouted at for a ridiculously long period of time, with his Father demanding to know why he though it was okay to “undermine” the Pendragon name, or deliberately embarrass his Father. Which of course was not what Arthur had intended.
On the contrary, Arthur had become exceptionally adept at avoiding fights and passing tests with flying colours, just to avoid having a shouting match with his Father. On the rare occasion that Arthur felt the need to put his fist in the face of one of his classmates, or didn’t do as well as he hoped in a test, the visits to his Father’s work always ended with either his Father ordering him out of his sight, or Arthur slamming the office door behind him when he stormed out. The latter became more frequent as he got older, when his confidence and height grew to match his Father’s and he had had enough of being accused of non-existent ulterior motives.
So, at the age of twenty and not recalling punching anyone in the face or even having a test, Arthur was unsure as to why he was sat in the overly formal waiting room of his Father’s law firm. Earlier that afternoon, three days after he’d sent the email to his Father, he’d received a phone call from Uther’s secretary (who still hated him, ten years later, after Arthur had tripped her up by stringing his school tie between the doorframe to “catch the witch” who was terrorizing his Father’s office) claiming that “Mr. Pendragon Sr.” required “Mr. Pendragon Jr’s” (And really, what was that about?) presence at exactly two thirty five pm to discuss “a matter of exceptional personal importance”.
Collette (otherwise known to Arthur as the office-terrorizing witch) peered over the top of her glasses at him in obvious disapproval. Looking down at himself, Arthur decided that it probably would’ve been better if he hadn’t worn jeans and a branded hoodie (another present from Leon. Probably instructed by Morgana to make him slightly more fashionable.). Still, he knew he looked presentable (Merlin had told him so before he left earlier that day.) and what Collette thought of him should be none of his concern. But, her accusing stare was beginning to make him uncomfortable. So, Arthur surprised himself by being extremely grateful when his Father strode out of his office, interrupting the evil stares he had been receiving. Not that the look his Father gave him was much better.
“Arthur.” He said, by way of a greeting. The cold tone of his Father’s voice told him everything he needed to know - this would not be a social visit. The way the older Pendragon stood with his hands clasped behind is back, his face void of any obvious emotion, reminded Arthur of all the other times that he’d faced his Father like this. He took a deep breath, steadying himself.
“Father.” He stood slowly, warily watching as Collette paused in her vigorous typing to smile smugly at him over the screen of her computer.
“Follow me.” His Father turned swiftly and strode back towards his office. “This won’t take long.” Arthur sighed. Experience warned him that this would in fact take quite some time, and that ‘won’t take long’ was actually code for ‘sit down and stay silent while I shout at you for however long I feel is necessary about being such a fail of a Pendragon.’
“Take a seat.” Arthur settled down in the stiff chair opposite his father’s desk, leaning back in exactly the manner his Father had spent years telling him not to. He considered it a small victory when he saw Uther’s jaw clench in frustration. “I received your email,” He began, seeming innocent enough. “Sit up when I’m talking to you.” He snapped, frowning deeply when Arthur ignored him. “Was it some kind of a joke?”
Arthur frowned. “What part of it was amusing, Father?”
Uther raised an eyebrow slowly. “What part of it wasn’t?”
Arthur ground his teeth together in frustration. He knew it would end like this. Just like every other time he’d invited Uther to something. “I don’t quite follow.”
“You don’t follow?” Uther laughed a little. “Are you being serious, Arthur?” As his son did not respond, the smile quickly slid off his face. “You were being genuine? Good grief, Arthur, what have I told you about wasting my time?”
Arthur instantly bristled, straightening in his chair. “Wasting your time? I’m wasting your time? I’m missing a lecture to be here right now. Don’t you think it would be more fitting to say that you’re wasting my time? Couldn’t you have just sent an email, rather than dragging me all the way over here just to shoot me down?”
“How dare you speak to me like that!”
“You were the one who called me out here. Well actually, you got Collette to call me, because you clearly don’t want to ‘waste your time’ calling your son!” He spat. “I sent you the email,” He poked himself in the chest to emphasize his point. “As a good-will gesture to you,” now he poked his finger toward his Father. “Because I thought you might have just the slightest interest in my life and what I’m spending my time doing. Clearly,” he said, shrugging his shoulders in an attempt to fake nonchalance, “I was wrong. You don’t care at all, do you?”
Uther forced a small smile onto his face, raising his hands in what Arthur assumed was supposed to be a calming gesture. It didn’t work. “It’s not that I don’t care, Arthur, it’s just-“
“Just what? What excuse is it going to be this time? You don’t have the time? Prior commitments? I’ve heard them all, because you always, always manage to worm your way out of everything that I invite you to.” He cut off Uther’s attempted response with a raised hand. “Don’t try to deny it. Every Rugby game, tennis match, school play and even parent’s evening! You’ve never attended a single one and you know it.” Arthur leant back in his chair, chest rising and falling rapidly.
Uther watched him carefully for a moment, resting his elbows on the surface of his desk and linking his fingers together. "Finished? Was that really necessary? Every time you come into my office you end up shouting at me. It’s uncalled for and I don’t appreciate it.”
“Uncalled for?”
“Yes. A little respect wouldn’t go amiss.”
“Respect? I will show you respect when you finally start to deserve it!”
“Arthur! How dare you!”
“Will you come to the exhibition or not? That’s all I want to know.”
“If I can find the time.”
“I won’t expect you then.” Arthur struggled for a moment to hide the shake in his voice, attempting to cover it. He’d hope that maybe just this once, Uther could see just how much this meant to him and appreciate the invitation. Apparently, a little acknowledgment and even less compassion had been too much to ask. “Are we done here?” Arthur asked.
“I should say so.” Uther’s face remained frustratingly blank as Arthur nodded once, turning to leave the office.
“Right. Well, goodbye, Father.” He watched as Uther flinched at the venom in his voice. He frowned as Uther appeared to cover up his reaction by returning his attention to the paperwork on his desk. He waved his hand in Arthur’s direction in a dismissal.
"Close the door behind you, Arthur. Please refrain from being immature and slamming it like you normally do.”
Arthur slammed the door with as much force as he could.
*****
Merlin knew that Arthur was furious before he even stepped into the room. Part of it was down to his magic - it’s always allowed him a look into what other people are feeling. The stronger the emotion, the easier he found it to pick up on. He can feel the thrum of anger that Arthur’s giving off a good minute or two before he can see him. He has a good idea of what, or who, caused it.
The other reason he knows is down to the text he received nearly ten minutes ago. The way it was worded so simply made Merlin a little afraid:
Need to see you. Stop me doing something stupid.
He easily guessed that Arthur's meeting with his Father hadn’t gone particularly well. Not that Merlin had really expected it to - from what he’d seen and what he’d heard from Morgana, Arthur’s relationship with his Father was questionable at best. That was one of the few things, Merlin thought suddenly, that they had in common.
Merlin had responded quickly with his location:
Art room. First on the left.
and waited patiently for Arthur to arrive. He’d spent the majority of his day in the art room in an attempt to make a dent in the large amount of work he had left to do. Working almost constantly seemed to have paid off though - he was really starting to get somewhere. When Arthur hesitated in the doorway, Merlin was grateful that everyone else had long since left. He entered the room quickly when Merlin wiped his paint-splattered hands on his jeans, cleared a pile of watercolour paintings from a chair for him and beckoned him in.
Arthur dropped his bag next to the chair (which was so covered in paint and so stereotypical that a small part of Arthur had to wonder whether it had been done deliberately) and sat down heavily. Merlin stood opposite him, silently leaning against the table he’d spread his work across. As Arthur focused on his feet and gripped his knees in an attempt to control himself a bit, he was grateful that Merlin didn’t say anything and didn’t ask any questions. They stayed in complete silence for a few moments, as Arthur continued to avoid Merlin’s concerned gaze. Suddenly, a half-empty packet of Skittles came into view. He looked up in momentary confusion to see Merlin smiling faintly, offering the sugary sweets to him in an attempt at a comforting gesture.
It was such a small gesture that was so simple and innocent and so Merlin that Arthur quickly found it difficult to hold back the tears that had been threatening to surface for some time. He looked away again quickly so that Merlin couldn’t see.
He clearly wasn’t quick enough, because the next thing he knew, the Skittles were skittering across the floor and Merlin was wrapping his around him tightly, tucking Arthur’s head under his chin. The sudden contact was apparently too much for Arthur’s resolve, and his grip quickly moved from his knees to Merlin’s shirt. He wasn’t aware that he’d actually started crying until Merlin started mumbling hushed words that Arthur couldn’t quite understand, but found somewhat soothing all the same.
It could have been Merlin’s calming presence, or the soothing circles that he was rubbing into his back that helped Arthur get his anger more under control, he wasn’t sure. It took a few minutes for Arthur to stop the damn tears and get his emotions in check. Merlin was reluctant to let Arthur move away from him when he shifted, settling for clasping his face between his hands and using his thumbs to wipe the tears from his face. He carefully brushed Arthur’s fringe out of his eyes, pressing a small kiss to his forehead, his nose and finally his lips.
“I take it he’s not coming then?” Merlin’s voice was steady, but underneath the apparent calmness, Arthur could sense something else. Anger, maybe? Disgust? Contempt? A bit of everything, he decided. The way that Merlin had got so emotionally involved in Arthur’s problems caused a small pang in his heart. Despite all the issues in his own life that Merlin had yet to face, and that Arthur decided he would promise to help him with, Merlin still found enough room in his heart and mind to be unfalteringly caring and genuine. It was times like this, of small comforts and simple gestures that seemed to mean so much, that made Arthur realize how lucky he was to have someone so profoundly good as Merlin.
“No, he’s not coming.” Arthur watched Merlin’s face carefully as he frowned deeply, resting his forehead against Arthur’s. He only just caught Merlin’s mumble of, “Bastard.”
“Did he have a reason?”
“No. I didn’t wait for one. They’re always the same.”
Merlin sighed, slowly and quietly. He kissed Arthur’s nose again, screwing his eyes shut. “He’s an idiot. Really an idiot. You don’t need him there, Arthur. I know you wanted him there and I get that, but he’s an idiot for just - I mean, why would he-“ Merlin took a deep breath. “I’ll be there. For the entire time. You know I will be, right?”
Arthur knows. And for that, he’s grateful. They stay sat like that, foreheads together, Merlin’s hands on Arthur’s face, Arthur’s hands clenched in Merlin’s shirt, for some time, comfortable in each other’s presence, comforted by the quiet.
*****
“Relax, Arthur.” Merlin placed his hands on Arthur’s shoulders, smoothing down the collar of his shirt. He had to congratulate Morgana on her choice of clothes for him; dark, figure-hugging jeans, white shirt rolled up to the elbows, grey-skinny tie and matching waistcoat. Despite his nerves, Arthur looked amazing. “It’s going fantastically. Your prints have had loads of interest already.”
Arthur sighed, resting his forehead against Merlin’s shoulder. “I feel so out of place.” He admitted slowly. “I’m not an art student - I do Maths, for God’s sake! I'm sure people know that I don’t belong here.”
“It’s an open gallery, Arthur. Anyone can get a slot, if they’re good enough, regardless of what subject you do.” He smiled a little when Arthur merely huffed, nuzzling his nose into Merlin’s neck. “You’ve got just as much of a right to show off your work as the next guy.” He ran a hand though Arthur’s hair, gently pushing him away. He laughed at Arthur’s disgruntled expression, attempting to herd him back towards his exhibit and the people milling around it. “Go on, go and charm some people into buying some photos.”
Arthur scoffed, brightening a little. “I don’t need to charm to sell. People can’t resist my photos, they’re that good.” He joked, giving Merlin a quick peck on the lips.
Merlin watched as Arthur strode towards his exhibit, instantly catching the attention of two people admiring some of his prints. Merlin was slightly impressed with how easily Arthur hid his insecurities and his nervousness - his cool, collected demeanour was nothing compared with how he had been that morning. Merlin had had to talk him out of cancelling several times.
Although Arthur hadn’t said anything outright, Merlin could tell how much it had hurt when his Father had told him he wouldn’t be ‘wasting his time’ by attending. He’d seen Arthur’s face fall when he had received the impersonal phone call from his Father’s secretary, almost as if he knew that meant his Father would reject his invitation. Merlin guessed he was lucky that he’d never really had to worry about things like that - his Mother had always attended every school play, every parent’s evening and every single art exhibition, no matter how small - so he couldn’t tell for sure what Arthur was thinking, but he could see, from the way he looked up hopefully every time someone walked in the door, just in case his Father had changed his mind, only to look away quickly to hide his disappointment when it was yet another stranger, that Arthur was really hurting.
It made Merlin so angry to think that Uther had told his only son, to his face, that he thought that celebrating the success of his hobby was a complete waste of time. Surely he couldn’t be that heartless? Merlin knew how at peace Arthur was when he was taking photos and his happiness and obvious enthusiasm when he was talking about his prints was unbelievably contagious. The more he thought about it, about Arthur, the more angry he became - there must be a little bit of Uther that cared about his son, right? As he watched Arthur laugh, gesturing towards his prints, chatting away to a potential buyer, Merlin frowned. Surely Uther couldn’t believe this was a waste of time?
“Penny for your thoughts?”
Merlin looked away from Arthur, momentarily startled from his toughts. He relaxed when Morgana smiled at him, linking her arm though his. “Hmm? Oh. Not really worth the penny.” He let himself be slowly led around the exhibit by Morgana, who, as usual, looked stunning in an elegant, yet modest, red cocktail dress, feigning passing interest in the works they wandered by.
“Come now, Merlin, we both know that there’s a lot going through that head of yours.” They paused for a moment while Morgana adjusted her hair slightly in the reflection of the glass in a photo frame. “You can’t fool me.”
“I can try though, right?” At the scolding look she shot at him over her shoulder, he sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “It’s Arthur. And Uther. I just - Well, when he said - the look on his- It just makes me so angry that he could just- “ He ran a hand through his hair quickly, trying to find the right words. “I’m worried about him.”
Morgana nodded slowly, slipping her arm through Merlin’s again and continuing their browsing of the exhibits. “Uther can be cruel. Exceptionally so. I know that as much as the next person. But no matter how much he tries not to show it, he does love Arthur.” She ignored Merlin’s snort of disagreement.
“He does. Deep down in that stone cold heart of his. I know it doesn’t seem like it, but he does. Uther has never been one for showing emotions, or showing that he cares-“
“But this is his son for Christ’s sake!”
“Because he just doesn’t know how.” She continued. “When our Mother died,” Here she faltered. She took a deep breath before continuing. “When our Mother died, Uther felt like he’d lost everything. He’d spent the first few years of Arthur’s life doting on his every whim, but when he lost our Mother, he didn’t know what to do anymore.”
“Arthur had no idea what had caused his Father to suddenly not want to spend time with him like he used to, and you have to understand, at three, he was easily led by his emotions. He thought Uther had abandoned him. Watching Arthur feel so alone and grow up thinking his Father hated him killed Uther, it really did. But the truth was, Arthur reminded him too much of our Mother. Not just in looks, sure he had her blue eyes and blonde hair, but in personality - Arthur was so trusting and loving and unwaveringly loyal, and Uther couldn’t deal with it. So,” She sighed, gripping Merlin’s hand in hers. “He kept his distance. And, when he came to a point where he could look at Arthur and not burst into tears of grief, it was too late to repair the damage and their relationship has remained as dysfunctional and hateful ever since.” The silence that fell when she finished was uncomfortable.
“That’s not much of an excuse to say those things to his child, though.”
“It’s not an excuse, Merlin,” Morgana’s tone was sharp. “There is no excuse for the way Uther chose to deal with my Mother’s death. Even if there was, I wouldn’t have it. What I just told you was an explanation. So that you understand and know the full story before you cast judgements.” She let out a frustrated huff of breath. “Not that your judgements are too far off, I imagine.” She stopped walking suddenly and turned to face Merlin, laying a hand on his chest.
“Arthur is fragile. He may not seem it, under all that laddish charm and apparent lack of care about what the world thinks of him, but he is. Deep down, he’s still a hurt little boy that misses his Father, and if I find that you’ve hurt him in any way, or abandoned him, I will kill you myself, okay? I can’t watch my brother go through something like that again.”
“You have my word, Morgana. I’m not planning on going anywhere.”
“Thank you.” Merlin watches as Morgana suddenly turns, and hurries toward Arthur, arms outstretched for a hug, loudly exclaiming her congratulations. He watches as Arthur grins and wraps his arms around his sister tightly, and he smiles in response to Arthur’s happy waving to him. He realizes, as he stands there, a smile on his face, that he really, truly meant what he said - he couldn’t imagine his life without Arthur now.
Summary: In which Arthur finally does something relatively brave, Merlin gets annoyed and slightly frustrated and whacks out the comfort food, Arthur says it like it is and Morgana lays down the ground rules.
Rating: PG-13
Beta'd by: The truly wonderful lasvegas_lights
Spoilers: N/A
Disclaimer: I still don't own Merlin or any of the characters. (Apart from the secretary.)
A/N: So, in writing the second half of this chapter, I decided that things weren't going to work the way I'd originally planned them to. That's why the summary has changed and I'm reposting the entire thing in chapter again in one go. I would say feel free to skip over the start and get to the new part, but it's been so long since I uploaded that you've probably forgotten. *Fail*
Also, thanks to Anigram for help with the summary. I dedicate this to you. XD
When Arthur had told Merlin that he liked to take photos of everyone and everything that meant something to him, Merlin had expected a relatively large amount of photos as Arthur was one of the most popular people he knew. He imagined there would be lots of pictures of Arthur's friends, so he was extremely surprised when Arthur finally offered to show Merlin his portfolio.
“Now that we’re a thing,” Arthur had explained to him, holding him close, arms around Merlin’s skinny waist. “I guess I’ll show them to you. That is, if you want to.” He said, with only one thin folder to nervously offer him.
“I thought you had more than this.” Merlin mused, spreading them out on Arthur’s bedcovers. He smiled at the one of Morgana and Leon. They looked a little younger, Leon’s hair was shorter and Morgana wasn’t pregnant and Leon was stood behind Morgana holding her close to his chest, chin resting on the top of her head. They were both smiling widely, extremely content to have their photo taken. The lighting was a little off, but Merlin thought it added to the feel of the photo, it all looked so natural.
Arthur huffed, poking Merlin with his foot from the safety of his desk chair (his room in the University halls was so small that even if he stood on the other side of the room, he was still within touching distance of Merlin). “I do have more yes. But the ones you’ve got are the good ones, you know, the ones of people I care about.” He blushed a little. He’d never been one for talking about personal matters and it made him feel awkward. “The other ones were just taken for fun, you know? Plants and stuff.”
“Can I see them?” Merlin looked up at him eagerly, carefully placing the photos he had back in the folder.
“If you must.”
“Oh, I must.” Merlin grinned as Arthur made a show of heaving himself out of his chair to reach underneath his bed. He watched as Arthur pulled out a large ring-bound folder, arms tensing under the weight.
“They’re not very good.” Arthur sat back down heavily, slouching in his seat. .No matter who it was, having someone look at your work, judging it, was hard, espeically when that someone was an artist who not only knew a thing or two about this kind of thing but was also someone Arthur cared about. Merlin's opinion mattered to Arthur.
“Arthur, you’re an idiot!” Merlin suddenly exclaimed, making Arthur jump, then frown in confusion. “These are all incredible!” he flinched as Merlin swatted him on the knee. “How can you not see that these are amazing?” Merlin continued without taking a breath, gesturing to one of the photos in the folder. “I mean, look at this. Really look at it. People train for years to be able to do this, and you’ve done it with no training whatsoever and a depressingly shit digital camera.”
“Hey! There’s nothing wrong with my digital camera!”
“Arthur, when you picked it up just then to comfort it, the lens fell out.” Merlin said matter-of-factly, watching him accusingly through the flicks of hair that fell over his face.
“That always happens.”
“That’s not meant to happen. Ever.” Admitting defeat, Merlin turned back to the picture. “Where did you take this?”
Arthur leaned over to take a look, taking a moment to try and remember. “Uh. Oh yeah! It was at one of Morgana’s friend’s weddings. The photographer bailed, so Morgana signed me up to take the photos. The bride didn’t like this one when I printed them, so told me to keep it.”
Merlin snorted. “Was she stupid? This photo’s brilliant.” He tilted his head a little to look at it from a better angle - the bride was laughing as the wind whipped her veil around her face, trying to keep the delicate material of her dress off of the ground. She was surrounded by other smiling people, trying to help her to keep the veil under control and usher her toward the safety of the church behind her.
“It’s alright I guess. I can see why she didn’t like it.” He gestured vaguely toward the photo. “The lighting’s all weird.” He frowned at Merlin’s judgmental look. “What?”
“Shut up. Your photos are awesome. And if you don’t accept that and embrace your obvious talent, you are as much of an idiot as that bride was for not liking your photo.”
Arthur blushed deeply, trying to hide his embarrassment by playfully shoving Merlin’s shoulder. Merlin very childishly (in Arthur’s opinion) retaliated by swatting him over the head with the plastic wallet that held the photo. “Hey! What was that for?”
“What was that - Really? You’re an idiot.”
“Well, at least I’m not a clotpole.”
Merlin stared at him for a moment, eyebrow rising slowly. “What does that even mean?”
“I have no idea.”
*****
“Merlin told me I should show off my photos. Like in an art gallery or something.” Arthur peered over the two sheets of wallpaper that Morgana was making him hold up for her to look at.
She looked up from the washing she was carefully folding and frowned a little. “And what do you make of that?” She had insisted that Arthur hold up the wallpaper while she did her usual routine, claiming that it would help her get a ‘feel’ of the wallpaper. Arthur was convinced it was just punishment for not telling her that he and Merlin were officially together sooner as soon as he knew.
“I’m your sister,” she had said, in a tone that was way too dramatic for the situation. “You’re supposed to tell me everything.”
“Well, I don’t know.” He sighed heavily, dropping his arms to his side. As a pair of balled up socks came flying towards his face, he very quickly held the samples back up. “Sorry. But, it’s just, would anyone actually like them? Or would I just embarrass myself? Let’s be honest, I don’t belong in art galleries. I don’t even know where they are!”
“You walk past them every time you go to the library, you idiot.” She tutted, tilting her head to one side to look at the wallpaper he was holding. She screwed one eye shut and raised a hand to block one of them from her view, paused for a moment, before doing the same to the other.
“Is that what those buildings are?” He laughed a little. “I’ve always wondered.”
Morgana shook her head in exasperation, gently placing the folded washing back into the wash basket. “Back to the point - of course people would like your photos, Arthur. They’re incredible!” She pointed towards a frame on the wall behind her. “Look, I even deemed one of them good enough to put in my house.” She couldn’t help but smile fondly at the small grin of pride that unconsciously crossed his face. “Why shouldn’t you do an exhibit? I say go for it.”
“Thanks Morgana. But what about Father?”
“What about him?” She folded her arms across her chest, leaning back in her chair. “I don’t like either of those patterns. Hold up the next two?”
Arthur sighed, slowly rolling up the two samples he currently had and randomly selecting two others from the ridiculously large pile that his sister had amassed. “Well, should I tell him?”
“About the exhibition? Or about you or Merlin?” She asked, ignoring his look of shock. As usual, she had instantly guessed that it wasn’t just photography that was playing on his mind. Ever since he and Merlin had become official, as it were, Arthur had been fretting over whether or not he should tell his father, and the best time to if he did.
“How did you-?” He began, but was quickly cut off by Morgana holding up her hand.
“Don’t even insult your intelligence by asking that. We both know full well that I always know what’s bothering you.”
“True.” He sighed, arms aching from the effort of holding them up for so long. “If you’re asking, both of them, actually.”
“Well,” Morgana said calmly, her tone fond. As much as she insulted him and forced him to do her bidding, Morgana really cared about Arthur, he was her baby brother after all. “Why don’t you invite Father along to your exhibition, when you get your arse into gear and apply, and, maybe, if they decide that you’re good enough, that would be the perfect time to introduce Merlin to him as your boyfriend.”
“That’s a good idea,” Arthur said, smiling widely, clearly relieved that it could be resolved so simply. “Why didn’t I think of that?”
“Because, dear brother, you are not nearly as smart as me.” She smiled innocently, gently folding her hands over her stomach. She frowned as he snorted in disbelief.
“Can I put these down now?” He asked desperately, gesturing to the wallpaper.
“No. I still haven’t forgiven you for not telling me about you and Merlin as soon as it happened. You know I like to stay in the loop. Now, let’s have a look at the next two.”
“Seriously?” Arthur looked distressed.
“Seriously.” Morgana’s face was stern - She meant business.
*****
“Just send him an email.”
“Isn’t that a bit impersonal?” Arthur ran a frantic hand through his hair as he leant back heavily in his chair.
“Not necessarily. Unless you want to call him. Or go and see him personally.” Merlin laughed as Arthur instantly shook his head in horror. “Send him an email then.” They’d been sat like this for the last twenty minutes and despite Merlin’s best efforts, the conversation had barely moved on, and Arthur was definitely no closer to making a decision.
“What should I say?” Arthur frowned, hands poised ready over the keys of his laptop. “Do I even have to invite him?” His expression was hopeful as he peered over the top of his screen at Merlin. He knew that he had a lot to talk to his Father about that he’d been putting off for way too long, but still. Uther Pendragon was intimidating.
“Of course you do!” Merlin tutted, casually spearing a piece of pasta on his fork. Arthur had cornered him in the University College’s dining hall during lunch, plonked himself, his lecture notes and his laptop down opposite him and asked, well, more demanded, that Merlin help him because he was ‘better with all that personal, feelings stuff’. “Besides, you were the one who said you wanted to invite him.” He chewed the pasta slowly,
watching Arthur carefully.
“Yeah, but…” Arthur scowled when Merlin chased his hand away from his plate with his fork.
“Get your own.” He scolded. “But what? You either want to invite him or you don’t.”
“I do,” Arthur began slowly, ignoring Merlin’s sigh of frustration when he stole a sip of his water. “But, are photography exhibitions really his thing?” When Arthur had received an email from the gallery director in response to his application, he’d been insufferably smug for the entire morning (in Merlin’s opinion). But it had been short-lived when Arthur had realized that he had no excuse not to invite his Father.
“How am I supposed to know? I’ve never met the man. The only thing I know about him is that he keeps a very tidy cupboard.” Arthur smirked, thinking back to their escapades in his Father’s office. Merlin’s look of complete disapproval stopped him from voicing any inappropriate thoughts that had popped into mind. Merlin, for some reason, was utterly convinced that Arthur only ever thought about carnal things. Arthur maintained vehemently that it was only true some of the time.
“Why don’t you just ask him? If he says no, well, he’s an idiot. But if he says yes then that’s fantastic. What have you got to lose?” Merlin turned back to his pasta, stabbing several pieces on his fork. As soon as he went to put them in his mouth, as if on cue, Arthur slammed his laptop shut, making Merlin jump and drop all the pasta he’d carefully selected. Frowning, and with an angry remark ready on his tongue, Merlin looked up at Arthur, only to close his mouth and sigh softly. Arthur had dropped his head onto the table in frustration, and tangled his hands so tightly in his hair that Merlin could almost feel the tugging himself.
“I can’t do this!” He cried, voice muffled by the thick wood of the table.
Merlin rested his hand comfortingly on Arthur’s head, gently removing Arthur’s fingers from his hair. “Yes you can,” He murmured, carefully replacing Arthur’s fingers with his own. “I’ll help you, if you like?”
“Really?” Arthur turned his head to the side, peering up at him. “You’d do that? But aren’t you really busy?”
“Of course I’ll help.” He gently brushed the hair out of Arthur’s eyes, teasing out a small knot between his fingers. “Coursework can wait a few more hours.” He said, surprising himself with how calm he sounded. He’d been trying not to think about how behind everyone else he was - what with worrying about his mother, worrying about Arthur and all the stress he seemed to bring along with him, he’d pushed it aside. “I’ll be fine.”
“Thanks, Merlin, I really appreciate it.” Arthur turned his head to press a kiss to Merlin’s palm, before grinning wickedly and grabbing a piece of pasta from Merlin’s plate.
“Hey! That’s mine!”
“You’re just too slow for me.” Arthur looked far too smug as he chewed his prize slowly. His expression quickly changed to a frown when Merlin flicked him on the nose and leant back in his chair, arms folded.
“Shan’t help you now.”
“Aww, come on Merlin, I need your help.”
“Nope. Not after stealing my food.”
“Really?”
“Well, maybe if you beg.” Merlin laughed at Arthur’s put-out expression. “I mean it.”
“Are you serious?” Arthur asked incredulously, feeling a strange sense of de ja vu. Didn’t he have a conversation that ended like this only this morning?
Merlin's eyes narrowed, “Deadly.”
*****
As he was growing up, the only time Arthur stood outside his Father’s office at work was when he’d been summoned after school because Uther had found out about some trouble he’d gotten into or because he’d failed a test or didn’t make the grade in some coursework. Being concerned and generally happy to stick their nose where it wasn’t wanted, his teacher had called his Father on more than one occasion to express their “disappointment”. It usually led to Arthur being shouted at for a ridiculously long period of time, with his Father demanding to know why he though it was okay to “undermine” the Pendragon name, or deliberately embarrass his Father. Which of course was not what Arthur had intended.
On the contrary, Arthur had become exceptionally adept at avoiding fights and passing tests with flying colours, just to avoid having a shouting match with his Father. On the rare occasion that Arthur felt the need to put his fist in the face of one of his classmates, or didn’t do as well as he hoped in a test, the visits to his Father’s work always ended with either his Father ordering him out of his sight, or Arthur slamming the office door behind him when he stormed out. The latter became more frequent as he got older, when his confidence and height grew to match his Father’s and he had had enough of being accused of non-existent ulterior motives.
So, at the age of twenty and not recalling punching anyone in the face or even having a test, Arthur was unsure as to why he was sat in the overly formal waiting room of his Father’s law firm. Earlier that afternoon, three days after he’d sent the email to his Father, he’d received a phone call from Uther’s secretary (who still hated him, ten years later, after Arthur had tripped her up by stringing his school tie between the doorframe to “catch the witch” who was terrorizing his Father’s office) claiming that “Mr. Pendragon Sr.” required “Mr. Pendragon Jr’s” (And really, what was that about?) presence at exactly two thirty five pm to discuss “a matter of exceptional personal importance”.
Collette (otherwise known to Arthur as the office-terrorizing witch) peered over the top of her glasses at him in obvious disapproval. Looking down at himself, Arthur decided that it probably would’ve been better if he hadn’t worn jeans and a branded hoodie (another present from Leon. Probably instructed by Morgana to make him slightly more fashionable.). Still, he knew he looked presentable (Merlin had told him so before he left earlier that day.) and what Collette thought of him should be none of his concern. But, her accusing stare was beginning to make him uncomfortable. So, Arthur surprised himself by being extremely grateful when his Father strode out of his office, interrupting the evil stares he had been receiving. Not that the look his Father gave him was much better.
“Arthur.” He said, by way of a greeting. The cold tone of his Father’s voice told him everything he needed to know - this would not be a social visit. The way the older Pendragon stood with his hands clasped behind is back, his face void of any obvious emotion, reminded Arthur of all the other times that he’d faced his Father like this. He took a deep breath, steadying himself.
“Father.” He stood slowly, warily watching as Collette paused in her vigorous typing to smile smugly at him over the screen of her computer.
“Follow me.” His Father turned swiftly and strode back towards his office. “This won’t take long.” Arthur sighed. Experience warned him that this would in fact take quite some time, and that ‘won’t take long’ was actually code for ‘sit down and stay silent while I shout at you for however long I feel is necessary about being such a fail of a Pendragon.’
“Take a seat.” Arthur settled down in the stiff chair opposite his father’s desk, leaning back in exactly the manner his Father had spent years telling him not to. He considered it a small victory when he saw Uther’s jaw clench in frustration. “I received your email,” He began, seeming innocent enough. “Sit up when I’m talking to you.” He snapped, frowning deeply when Arthur ignored him. “Was it some kind of a joke?”
Arthur frowned. “What part of it was amusing, Father?”
Uther raised an eyebrow slowly. “What part of it wasn’t?”
Arthur ground his teeth together in frustration. He knew it would end like this. Just like every other time he’d invited Uther to something. “I don’t quite follow.”
“You don’t follow?” Uther laughed a little. “Are you being serious, Arthur?” As his son did not respond, the smile quickly slid off his face. “You were being genuine? Good grief, Arthur, what have I told you about wasting my time?”
Arthur instantly bristled, straightening in his chair. “Wasting your time? I’m wasting your time? I’m missing a lecture to be here right now. Don’t you think it would be more fitting to say that you’re wasting my time? Couldn’t you have just sent an email, rather than dragging me all the way over here just to shoot me down?”
“How dare you speak to me like that!”
“You were the one who called me out here. Well actually, you got Collette to call me, because you clearly don’t want to ‘waste your time’ calling your son!” He spat. “I sent you the email,” He poked himself in the chest to emphasize his point. “As a good-will gesture to you,” now he poked his finger toward his Father. “Because I thought you might have just the slightest interest in my life and what I’m spending my time doing. Clearly,” he said, shrugging his shoulders in an attempt to fake nonchalance, “I was wrong. You don’t care at all, do you?”
Uther forced a small smile onto his face, raising his hands in what Arthur assumed was supposed to be a calming gesture. It didn’t work. “It’s not that I don’t care, Arthur, it’s just-“
“Just what? What excuse is it going to be this time? You don’t have the time? Prior commitments? I’ve heard them all, because you always, always manage to worm your way out of everything that I invite you to.” He cut off Uther’s attempted response with a raised hand. “Don’t try to deny it. Every Rugby game, tennis match, school play and even parent’s evening! You’ve never attended a single one and you know it.” Arthur leant back in his chair, chest rising and falling rapidly.
Uther watched him carefully for a moment, resting his elbows on the surface of his desk and linking his fingers together. "Finished? Was that really necessary? Every time you come into my office you end up shouting at me. It’s uncalled for and I don’t appreciate it.”
“Uncalled for?”
“Yes. A little respect wouldn’t go amiss.”
“Respect? I will show you respect when you finally start to deserve it!”
“Arthur! How dare you!”
“Will you come to the exhibition or not? That’s all I want to know.”
“If I can find the time.”
“I won’t expect you then.” Arthur struggled for a moment to hide the shake in his voice, attempting to cover it. He’d hope that maybe just this once, Uther could see just how much this meant to him and appreciate the invitation. Apparently, a little acknowledgment and even less compassion had been too much to ask. “Are we done here?” Arthur asked.
“I should say so.” Uther’s face remained frustratingly blank as Arthur nodded once, turning to leave the office.
“Right. Well, goodbye, Father.” He watched as Uther flinched at the venom in his voice. He frowned as Uther appeared to cover up his reaction by returning his attention to the paperwork on his desk. He waved his hand in Arthur’s direction in a dismissal.
"Close the door behind you, Arthur. Please refrain from being immature and slamming it like you normally do.”
Arthur slammed the door with as much force as he could.
*****
Merlin knew that Arthur was furious before he even stepped into the room. Part of it was down to his magic - it’s always allowed him a look into what other people are feeling. The stronger the emotion, the easier he found it to pick up on. He can feel the thrum of anger that Arthur’s giving off a good minute or two before he can see him. He has a good idea of what, or who, caused it.
The other reason he knows is down to the text he received nearly ten minutes ago. The way it was worded so simply made Merlin a little afraid:
Need to see you. Stop me doing something stupid.
He easily guessed that Arthur's meeting with his Father hadn’t gone particularly well. Not that Merlin had really expected it to - from what he’d seen and what he’d heard from Morgana, Arthur’s relationship with his Father was questionable at best. That was one of the few things, Merlin thought suddenly, that they had in common.
Merlin had responded quickly with his location:
Art room. First on the left.
and waited patiently for Arthur to arrive. He’d spent the majority of his day in the art room in an attempt to make a dent in the large amount of work he had left to do. Working almost constantly seemed to have paid off though - he was really starting to get somewhere. When Arthur hesitated in the doorway, Merlin was grateful that everyone else had long since left. He entered the room quickly when Merlin wiped his paint-splattered hands on his jeans, cleared a pile of watercolour paintings from a chair for him and beckoned him in.
Arthur dropped his bag next to the chair (which was so covered in paint and so stereotypical that a small part of Arthur had to wonder whether it had been done deliberately) and sat down heavily. Merlin stood opposite him, silently leaning against the table he’d spread his work across. As Arthur focused on his feet and gripped his knees in an attempt to control himself a bit, he was grateful that Merlin didn’t say anything and didn’t ask any questions. They stayed in complete silence for a few moments, as Arthur continued to avoid Merlin’s concerned gaze. Suddenly, a half-empty packet of Skittles came into view. He looked up in momentary confusion to see Merlin smiling faintly, offering the sugary sweets to him in an attempt at a comforting gesture.
It was such a small gesture that was so simple and innocent and so Merlin that Arthur quickly found it difficult to hold back the tears that had been threatening to surface for some time. He looked away again quickly so that Merlin couldn’t see.
He clearly wasn’t quick enough, because the next thing he knew, the Skittles were skittering across the floor and Merlin was wrapping his around him tightly, tucking Arthur’s head under his chin. The sudden contact was apparently too much for Arthur’s resolve, and his grip quickly moved from his knees to Merlin’s shirt. He wasn’t aware that he’d actually started crying until Merlin started mumbling hushed words that Arthur couldn’t quite understand, but found somewhat soothing all the same.
It could have been Merlin’s calming presence, or the soothing circles that he was rubbing into his back that helped Arthur get his anger more under control, he wasn’t sure. It took a few minutes for Arthur to stop the damn tears and get his emotions in check. Merlin was reluctant to let Arthur move away from him when he shifted, settling for clasping his face between his hands and using his thumbs to wipe the tears from his face. He carefully brushed Arthur’s fringe out of his eyes, pressing a small kiss to his forehead, his nose and finally his lips.
“I take it he’s not coming then?” Merlin’s voice was steady, but underneath the apparent calmness, Arthur could sense something else. Anger, maybe? Disgust? Contempt? A bit of everything, he decided. The way that Merlin had got so emotionally involved in Arthur’s problems caused a small pang in his heart. Despite all the issues in his own life that Merlin had yet to face, and that Arthur decided he would promise to help him with, Merlin still found enough room in his heart and mind to be unfalteringly caring and genuine. It was times like this, of small comforts and simple gestures that seemed to mean so much, that made Arthur realize how lucky he was to have someone so profoundly good as Merlin.
“No, he’s not coming.” Arthur watched Merlin’s face carefully as he frowned deeply, resting his forehead against Arthur’s. He only just caught Merlin’s mumble of, “Bastard.”
“Did he have a reason?”
“No. I didn’t wait for one. They’re always the same.”
Merlin sighed, slowly and quietly. He kissed Arthur’s nose again, screwing his eyes shut. “He’s an idiot. Really an idiot. You don’t need him there, Arthur. I know you wanted him there and I get that, but he’s an idiot for just - I mean, why would he-“ Merlin took a deep breath. “I’ll be there. For the entire time. You know I will be, right?”
Arthur knows. And for that, he’s grateful. They stay sat like that, foreheads together, Merlin’s hands on Arthur’s face, Arthur’s hands clenched in Merlin’s shirt, for some time, comfortable in each other’s presence, comforted by the quiet.
*****
“Relax, Arthur.” Merlin placed his hands on Arthur’s shoulders, smoothing down the collar of his shirt. He had to congratulate Morgana on her choice of clothes for him; dark, figure-hugging jeans, white shirt rolled up to the elbows, grey-skinny tie and matching waistcoat. Despite his nerves, Arthur looked amazing. “It’s going fantastically. Your prints have had loads of interest already.”
Arthur sighed, resting his forehead against Merlin’s shoulder. “I feel so out of place.” He admitted slowly. “I’m not an art student - I do Maths, for God’s sake! I'm sure people know that I don’t belong here.”
“It’s an open gallery, Arthur. Anyone can get a slot, if they’re good enough, regardless of what subject you do.” He smiled a little when Arthur merely huffed, nuzzling his nose into Merlin’s neck. “You’ve got just as much of a right to show off your work as the next guy.” He ran a hand though Arthur’s hair, gently pushing him away. He laughed at Arthur’s disgruntled expression, attempting to herd him back towards his exhibit and the people milling around it. “Go on, go and charm some people into buying some photos.”
Arthur scoffed, brightening a little. “I don’t need to charm to sell. People can’t resist my photos, they’re that good.” He joked, giving Merlin a quick peck on the lips.
Merlin watched as Arthur strode towards his exhibit, instantly catching the attention of two people admiring some of his prints. Merlin was slightly impressed with how easily Arthur hid his insecurities and his nervousness - his cool, collected demeanour was nothing compared with how he had been that morning. Merlin had had to talk him out of cancelling several times.
Although Arthur hadn’t said anything outright, Merlin could tell how much it had hurt when his Father had told him he wouldn’t be ‘wasting his time’ by attending. He’d seen Arthur’s face fall when he had received the impersonal phone call from his Father’s secretary, almost as if he knew that meant his Father would reject his invitation. Merlin guessed he was lucky that he’d never really had to worry about things like that - his Mother had always attended every school play, every parent’s evening and every single art exhibition, no matter how small - so he couldn’t tell for sure what Arthur was thinking, but he could see, from the way he looked up hopefully every time someone walked in the door, just in case his Father had changed his mind, only to look away quickly to hide his disappointment when it was yet another stranger, that Arthur was really hurting.
It made Merlin so angry to think that Uther had told his only son, to his face, that he thought that celebrating the success of his hobby was a complete waste of time. Surely he couldn’t be that heartless? Merlin knew how at peace Arthur was when he was taking photos and his happiness and obvious enthusiasm when he was talking about his prints was unbelievably contagious. The more he thought about it, about Arthur, the more angry he became - there must be a little bit of Uther that cared about his son, right? As he watched Arthur laugh, gesturing towards his prints, chatting away to a potential buyer, Merlin frowned. Surely Uther couldn’t believe this was a waste of time?
“Penny for your thoughts?”
Merlin looked away from Arthur, momentarily startled from his toughts. He relaxed when Morgana smiled at him, linking her arm though his. “Hmm? Oh. Not really worth the penny.” He let himself be slowly led around the exhibit by Morgana, who, as usual, looked stunning in an elegant, yet modest, red cocktail dress, feigning passing interest in the works they wandered by.
“Come now, Merlin, we both know that there’s a lot going through that head of yours.” They paused for a moment while Morgana adjusted her hair slightly in the reflection of the glass in a photo frame. “You can’t fool me.”
“I can try though, right?” At the scolding look she shot at him over her shoulder, he sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “It’s Arthur. And Uther. I just - Well, when he said - the look on his- It just makes me so angry that he could just- “ He ran a hand through his hair quickly, trying to find the right words. “I’m worried about him.”
Morgana nodded slowly, slipping her arm through Merlin’s again and continuing their browsing of the exhibits. “Uther can be cruel. Exceptionally so. I know that as much as the next person. But no matter how much he tries not to show it, he does love Arthur.” She ignored Merlin’s snort of disagreement.
“He does. Deep down in that stone cold heart of his. I know it doesn’t seem like it, but he does. Uther has never been one for showing emotions, or showing that he cares-“
“But this is his son for Christ’s sake!”
“Because he just doesn’t know how.” She continued. “When our Mother died,” Here she faltered. She took a deep breath before continuing. “When our Mother died, Uther felt like he’d lost everything. He’d spent the first few years of Arthur’s life doting on his every whim, but when he lost our Mother, he didn’t know what to do anymore.”
“Arthur had no idea what had caused his Father to suddenly not want to spend time with him like he used to, and you have to understand, at three, he was easily led by his emotions. He thought Uther had abandoned him. Watching Arthur feel so alone and grow up thinking his Father hated him killed Uther, it really did. But the truth was, Arthur reminded him too much of our Mother. Not just in looks, sure he had her blue eyes and blonde hair, but in personality - Arthur was so trusting and loving and unwaveringly loyal, and Uther couldn’t deal with it. So,” She sighed, gripping Merlin’s hand in hers. “He kept his distance. And, when he came to a point where he could look at Arthur and not burst into tears of grief, it was too late to repair the damage and their relationship has remained as dysfunctional and hateful ever since.” The silence that fell when she finished was uncomfortable.
“That’s not much of an excuse to say those things to his child, though.”
“It’s not an excuse, Merlin,” Morgana’s tone was sharp. “There is no excuse for the way Uther chose to deal with my Mother’s death. Even if there was, I wouldn’t have it. What I just told you was an explanation. So that you understand and know the full story before you cast judgements.” She let out a frustrated huff of breath. “Not that your judgements are too far off, I imagine.” She stopped walking suddenly and turned to face Merlin, laying a hand on his chest.
“Arthur is fragile. He may not seem it, under all that laddish charm and apparent lack of care about what the world thinks of him, but he is. Deep down, he’s still a hurt little boy that misses his Father, and if I find that you’ve hurt him in any way, or abandoned him, I will kill you myself, okay? I can’t watch my brother go through something like that again.”
“You have my word, Morgana. I’m not planning on going anywhere.”
“Thank you.” Merlin watches as Morgana suddenly turns, and hurries toward Arthur, arms outstretched for a hug, loudly exclaiming her congratulations. He watches as Arthur grins and wraps his arms around his sister tightly, and he smiles in response to Arthur’s happy waving to him. He realizes, as he stands there, a smile on his face, that he really, truly meant what he said - he couldn’t imagine his life without Arthur now.