Maybe Love Is The Reason Why (2/2)
Title: Maybe Love Is The Reason Why
Fandom: Merlin
Pairings: Merlin/Will, Merlin/Arthur/Gwaine
Rating: R
Disclaimer: If I owned Merlin... well, let's just say a few things would be different.
Spoilers: None, modern AU
Summary: Will asks Merlin an important question. Merlin's struggle for an answer leads him on a journey of self-discovery that lands him somewhere he'd never have imagined.
Author's Note: Written for the Spring Fling fest on kinkme_merlin, for this prompt. It got such lovely comments there that I decided to de-anon.
Thanks to: pinkfairy727 who beta'd, and was also my head cheerleader while I battled through writing this.
Part One
Part Two
Gwen and Merlin are onto their third drinks by the time Arthur, Gwaine and Lancelot return, quite evidently having made a few trips back to the bar themselves in the meantime.
Merlin knows, although the thought is slightly fuzzy, that he should cut himself off after this one. He needs to be thinking clearly tomorrow afternoon, and he won’t be if he’s feeling hungover and sorry for himself.
And besides, he still needs to figure out what he’s actually going to say to Will. Which he’d been planning on doing this evening, but all he can think about now is Gwen’s words earlier.
Despite repeated assertions that he thinks she is wrong, Merlin is, in fact, getting less and less sure by the minute. It would explain the extreme reactions to his news on Tuesday. And when he dredges his memory, he’s not so sure that he hasn’t seen something more in various looks over the years. But maybe that’s just his brain putting a spin on things that never existed.
He’s even less sure what he wants to do about it if it does in fact turn out to be true. If he says nothing, does nothing, they could go on just as they have for years, with the one difference that Merlin would know it wasn’t really what Arthur or Gwaine wanted.
But the alternatives - if he does something, says something… Things could get very uncomfortable.
And why would he say anything? He’s with Will, after all. And Arthur and Gwaine are his friends. Nothing needs to change, unless he wants it to.
And he doesn’t think he wants it to. But maybe he does.
“Merlin?”
Merlin is startled out of his reverie by Lancelot’s concerned voice and the nudge he gets in the side.
“Are you okay? You’ve been having a staring contest with your pint for a good fifteen minutes now, and I hate to tell you this, but you’re not going to win.”
Merlin shorts and shakes himself. “I’m fine,” he reassures his friends. “Just… tired. Long day.” It’s not entirely a lie.
He looks down at the inch or so of lager still in the bottom of his glass and pushes it away. “Might beg off now, though. Before I actually fall asleep on one of you.”
A memory surfaces of Arthur and Gwaine half-carrying him back to the flat once, years ago, when several all-night study sessions in a row had conspired to have him actually fall asleep on them in the pub. And they’d attempted to get him home without bothering to wake him up first.
“Need someone to walk back with you?” Lance asks as Merlin starts gathering his coat and scarf and putting them on.
Merlin shakes his head and laughs. “No, it’s okay. I’m a big boy now, you know. I can look after myself for all of a ten minute walk home.” He bumps his shoulder against Lance’s as they stand up, Lancelot sliding out of the booth to let Merlin out. “Thanks, though.”
He tucks his scarf into his coat and pats his pocket, checking for his keys, before he turns back to the table. “Don’t drink too much,” he grins at them before turning to wend his way through the pub to the door. He can just hear Gwen calling ‘We never do!’ over the noise of the multiple conversations going on around him.
The night air is sobering, a sharp breeze blowing empty wrappers from the chippie up the road along the pavement, along with the odd empty can.
Merlin shoves his hands in his pockets for warmth as he walks the familiar route, his mind still back in the pub with Arthur and Gwaine.
One fleeting thought has turned into a hundred, and suddenly he’s second guessing everything he’s ever thought about his relationships with Arthur and Gwaine; his relationship with Will.
If someone had asked him this time last week, he would have said with absolute certainty that he was happy with Will. Sure, they weren’t perfect, but no one was. They had a good thing going.
Seven days later, and he isn’t certain at all any more what it was he actually feels for Will. He likes him, he likes him a lot, and they have had some brilliant times together, but Merlin is beginning to suspect his reluctance to move in with him might just be a symptom of a deeper problem.
If it is, he feels he really ought to figure it out before he sees Will tomorrow. It’s not fair on Will if he’s just leading him on.
The front door of his building appears more quickly than expected, and Merlin digs into his pocket for his keys. Once safely back in the flat, he rushes through his bedtime routine and settles down under his warm duvet to think.
Arthur and Gwaine - in love with him? He doesn’t know what to do with the idea.
He and Arthur have been friends for so long that it seems a little ludicrous that he wouldn’t have said something by now. Merlin had been an almost painfully shy twelve year old when they first met, and Arthur had been the one to draw him out, let him grow into himself. Arthur was the first person he came out to, back when they were still spotty teenagers, and he hadn’t really been all that surprised when Arthur’s response had been that he was actually pretty sure that he was bi.
The topic of them together has never come up, though. He certainly isn’t Arthur’s usual type - for a start, he can count past ten without taking his shoes and socks off. Judging on the assortment of ditzy girls and guys he’s seen Arthur with over the years, he isn’t surprised that Arthur never sticks with the same one for more than a few weeks at a time. If that.
And okay, it’s not that he’s never considered it. Arthur’s never been hard on the eyes, and he’s also never been shy about wandering around in just his pants. They’re friends, but Merlin would have to be blind not to have looked.
He can even be sweet and charming, when he puts his mind to it. Although more often than not the sweetness of his actions is disguised by the brusque manner in which he performs them.
He’s been like that for the entirety of their friendship, and Merlin doesn’t think he’d change now - doesn’t want him to change. They’d probably never even have become friends otherwise.
The only kid from his primary school to win a scholarship to Camelot Academy, Merlin hadn’t known a soul his first day there, and hadn’t found it easy fitting in. Arthur, he’d learned later, hadn’t had any of his friends from primary school either, but as a generally confident and talkative type, he hadn’t found the transition quite as difficult as Merlin had.
Merlin remembers, now, watching him in the corridors those first few weeks. His bright shock of blond hair had always marked him out, and it seemed that everyone knew who he was. It was a sharp contrast to Merlin himself, the dark scrawny kid who kept his head down and mainly just tried to make it through each day.
But Arthur… Arthur had grinned at him in the corridors every day, the only one of the rich elite Merlin was now surrounded with who took the time out of their day to notice him at all.
A flood of forgotten emotion sweeps through Merlin’s veins as he drifts into the past. He remembers how he came to live for those encounters with Arthur, engineering opportunities to be in the same place as Arthur as many times as he could through the day. His sexuality just beginning to make itself known, he’d quickly developed an all-encompassing crush on Arthur.
And then one day Arthur had simply taken him by the arm and brashly declared that they were going to be friends now. Merlin had never been given a choice, but knows he would have jumped at the chance had it been framed as an offer rather than an edict.
It hadn’t taken long for them to become inseparable, Arthur confessing a few weeks in that most of the ‘friends’ he’d made in the first few days at Camelot had been far more interested in how rich his father was than in actually getting to know Arthur himself. As their friendship had developed - with no hints yet that Arthur was not the unattainable straight boy Merlin had first thought him - Merlin’s crush had been pushed further and further into his subconscious until he’d forgotten it even existed.
Until now.
If Gwen is right - and Merlin realises that somewhere between their conversation earlier and now he has come to the conclusion that she very probably is - Merlin cannot help but wonder now if he wasn’t the only one harbouring inappropriate feelings for a best friend.
It doesn’t entirely explain why he would never have mentioned it, but Merlin knows Arthur well enough to know how easily he can slip into self-preservation mode. And it’s not like he’s ever admitted his crush to Arthur either.
Where any of it leaves them now, he hasn’t the slightest clue.
Twisting onto his back, Merlin stares at the ceiling in the dim light cast by his bedside lamp. Sadly, it doesn’t seem willing to provide him with the inspiration needed to figure out what to do with his situation.
A boyfriend that he can no longer say with confidence he wants to be with, and not one but two best friends and roommates who might possibly have feelings for him. He doesn’t want to consider how it could possibly get more complicated.
One complication of a best friend relationship would really have been quite enough.
Merlin wriggles down further in bed, tucking the duvet around his shoulders.
It isn’t entirely ridiculous to accept that Gwaine’s feelings might not be entirely those of platonic friendship, considering their history. Even if Merlin can’t, now, remember an awful lot of that particular night.
At the time, Merlin had been a slightly sloshed 18 year old on a night out with some coursemates, Gwaine had been the hot stranger who’d somehow looked past Merlin’s admittedly unique dancing style on the club dance floor and had bought him a drink. Most of the rest of the evening is a little sketchy in Merlin’s head, disjointed scenes and snapshots rather than a smooth sequence of events.
Meeting Gwaine again several weeks later, introduced by Arthur as the barman he’d befriended at their local, had been initially awkward. Merlin can’t remember now if either of them ever actually told Arthur they’d met before that, but they’d determinedly put that one night stand behind them and the friendship had gone from there.
Merlin is beginning to wonder just how good he is at pushing things into his subconscious and ignoring them. And if it’s something he should worry about. He hasn’t thought about any of these things for years, and it seems they’re a lot less resolved than he’d thought they were.
One thing is finally clear, though - he can’t drag Will through this. His confused feelings are his own problem, and Will deserves more.
The thought of breaking things off with Will doesn’t upset him nearly as much as he knows it probably should, considering that a few days ago he was considering the possibility of moving in with the guy.
His skill at self-delusion is clearly exceptional.
Turning off the lamp, Merlin buries his face in the pillow. It’s clear what he has do at lunch tomorrow, and after that… well, he’s just going to have to figure that one out.
Will is already waiting, bundled up in a parka, when Merlin rounds the corner and crosses the car park to the pub. He grins when he spots Merlin, but even from several metres away Merlin can see the apprehension behind the smile.
He leans over and presses a light kiss to Will’s cheek as he gets near. “Hey.”
“Hi,” Will nods, gesturing towards the front door of the pub next to them. “After you.”
Merlin can feel Will close behind him as they go through the two sets of doors into the cosy interior of the pub. There’s a fire roaring in the fireplace on one wall and, cold after his walk here, Merlin heads towards the closest vacant table he can find to it.
Neither of them bothers to pick up the menu once they’ve got their coats off and settled into their chairs; the menu here hasn’t changed in at least the ten months since they first came here, and they both know what they like on it.
Double checking his pocket for his wallet and taking mental note of the number inscribed on the table, Merlin stands up and takes a backwards step towards the bar. “You want your usual?” he asks, getting a nod and a smile in response.
It’s not busy, so Merlin has ordered their food and is back at the table with two full glasses within a couple of minutes. “So… busy week?” he starts, taking a sip as he sits back down.
“Not really,” Will responds, doing the same. “Pretty quiet on new client meetings this week, so finally been catching up on all the paperwork that’s been piling up. From your texts sounds like you’ve had a bit more on.”
Merlin shrugs, grateful that Will seems willing to go along with the small-talk for now. “Well, Freya at work’s been sick, and we’ve been trying to reschedule appointments and cover all her patients. So it’s been a bit frantic. And some of them weren’t very happy with seeing a different physio. I don’t know how she copes with some of them, actually…”
They manage to keep up the inconsequential chat right through their meals arriving and they’re thankfully down the point of the last few bites before Merlin runs out of light-hearted topics to introduce and knows it’s time to get to the point.
“So…” he says, placing his cutlery carefully side-by-side on his plate. “We should probably talk about the reason I asked you to come today.”
“It’s a no, isn’t it?” Will pushes his empty plate to the side and rests his elbows on the table.
Merlin blinks. There’s no point in denying it. “How did you know?”
Will shrugs self-depreciatingly. “All the signs pointed that way. You took four days to think it over, we’ve hardly talked in those four days, and you’ve clearly been putting off this conversation all through lunch. It didn’t really take a genius to figure it out.”
“Point,” Merlin concedes. “It’s not that… I don’t…” He takes a deep breath. “I do like you. We get along well, we’ve had some great times, it’s just… I think…”
“It’s okay if you’re not ready,” Will says. “I didn’t mean to pressure you into anything, I just thought you should know that…”
“No, Will,” Merlin interrupts. “It’s… it’s not just that, okay?” He bites his cheek nervously. “I…”
Will sits back, realisation dawning on his face. “This is more than just not wanting to move in, isn’t it?”
Merlin nods slowly. “I’ve been doing a lot of thinking the last few days, about a lot of things. And I realised a few things about myself I’d been ignoring for a long time. I’ve still… well, I’ve got a lot of things still to figure out, but those are my problem. The thing it comes down to though, is… it wouldn’t be fair to you to carry on like this.”
“If you’ve got a problem, you know you can talk to me,” Will says earnestly. “I can be there for you if you…”
Merlin shakes his head vehemently, cutting off Will’s comment. “No. It’s not anything you can help with. I don’t even think it’s something that needs helping, it’s just…” He rubs his hands on the thighs of his jeans and goes for it. “I like you, I really do. But I don’t think I’m ever going to love you in the way I’d need to for us to work long term.”
Will sits stock still for a long moment; Merlin watches him worriedly. “Right,” he says eventually. “So… I guess this is it, then?”
Merlin nods. “I didn’t want to hurt you, but I don’t want to lead you on, either,” he explains, not sure if he’s making it better or worse.
“Yeah, I get it,” Will says blankly. “I… “
“Are you okay?” Merlin asks; he hates hurting him like this.
Will just shoots him a look.
“Right, okay, stupid question.” Merlin looks around the pub. “Do you want me to leave?”
Will shrugs. “Maybe?” He looks down at his hands on the tabletop. “It might be better if you did, actually. I… it’s not entirely unexpected, I guess, but… Yeah, it’d probably be better if you went.”
Merlin gathers his coat and scarf and starts putting them on even as he stands up. “I…umm… bye.”
Still buttoning his coat, he flees; he never wants to have to do something like that again.
He’s apprehensive when he opens the flat door; he hasn’t seen either Arthur or Gwaine yet today - neither of them had surfaced by the time he left to walk to the pub to meet Will. He suspects last night turned into quite a late one - it wouldn’t be out of the ordinary, and he was solidly asleep before they got home.
The curtains haven’t been fully drawn in the living room, and the volume on the TV is low, which he considers confirmation of his suspicions.
“Hey, you guys, late one last night?” he asks casually as he strips off his coat and toes off his shoes.
“I always forget that if Lancelot suggests playing a drinking game,” Arthur starts, voice soft, “I’m supposed to say no way. How that man can still remember so many stupid rules after so many drinks defies me.”
Merlin eases down onto the end of the sofa beside them. He’s fallen into the trap of drinking games with Lance himself a few times, and it never ends well. “So a bit fragile today, then?”
“A bit,” grunts Gwaine, who definitely looks like he’d rather be back in bed. “And I have work in a couple hours.”
Merlin smiles sympathetically.
“Where you been off out to, anyway?” Arthur asks, squinting sideways at Merlin.
“I met Will for lunch at the Coach and Four.”
A scowl flashes across Arthur’s face, brief but unmistakeable. “Oh.”
“I… um…” Merlin picks at a mark on the sofa arm studiously, unsure quite how they’re going to react to his latest bit of news. “I broke up with him.”
A hand on his shoulder pulls him around to face his flatmates.
“Seriously?” Arthur says, Gwaine echoing with, “Why?” a moment later. Clearly this isn’t the news either of them was expecting this afternoon.
“I did a lot of thinking after Tuesday night,” Merlin says, shrugging a little. “And eventually I realised that the reason I didn’t feel ready to move in with him is that I just…” He runs a hand through his hair. “I can’t imagine myself with him in five years’ time. I don’t know that I ever loved him in quite the way I thought I did.”
He debates for a second making a vague mention of Gwen’s involvement, but decides against it; that conversation has far too much potential to get into territory he’s just not ready to discuss yet.
“Are you sure you’re okay?” Arthur asks, slinging an arm around his shoulders.
Merlin leans a little into the hug. “I’m fine, honestly,” he says. “I know I should be more upset than this, but I’m not.”
The only thing he’s upset about is how awkwardly he left things; actually having broken up with Will has left him with more of a sense of relief.
“So you don’t need to come drown your sorrows while I work tonight?” Gwaine asks, leaning in.
Merlin shakes his head, grinning. “Seeing the state of you two this afternoon, I think not.”
Arthur’s arm tightens around his neck, hand coming up to ruffle Merlin’s hair. “Oi!”
Merlin ducks away. “Meant with the utmost of affection, of course,” he expands quickly. Armed with Gwen’s knowledge from the night before and his own resurfaced memories, he identifies the momentary flash of expression across Arthur’s face as pleasure at his statement.
He’s suddenly struck with the truth of this new situation: every interaction he has with Arthur or Gwaine now is going to be affected until he can figure out his own feelings about things. He nearly straightens and pulls away, but that will just prompt more questions than its worth.
And besides, he’s enjoying it. He hadn’t realised until now just how much he’d missed about the usual close relationship he shares with his flatmates, even just for the few days they’d been pushing him away.
If he never sees Will again it will hurt - he likes to think that some day they might find their way to being friends - but he’ll get over it. Just the thought of actually being separated from Arthur or Gwaine for an extended period of time - let alone forever - is a physical pain in his gut. They’re more than just his best friends; he can’t imagine life without them.
In retaliation for the hated hair ruffle, almost without volition, he finds himself elbowing Arthur lightly in the ribs.
When Gwaine pounces on his socked feet and initiates a tickle war - something which had been almost a weekly event in their flat at one point - he knows he’s done for.
Merlin doesn’t know what to do. Having finally given his brain permission to think about it, he cannot stop thinking about what ‘more than friends’ would be like with Arthur. Or Gwaine. Or Arthur and Gwaine. The last has provided him with enough late night fantasy fodder to last years, even though he knows it’s probably rather less likely than either of the other scenarios to actually come true.
He keeps finding himself watching them whenever the occasion arises, and he’s fairly sure it’s becoming noticeable.
Although he apparently managed not to notice Arthur and Gwaine doing the same to him for years so he probably shouldn’t be so worried that they’ll have noticed after just a little over a week.
It can’t go on like this, though. He needs to say something, do something. And he will… just as soon as he figures out what that should be.
He does know he can’t lose them - either of them. And he knows with sinking certainty that if he were to attempt to pursue anything with one of them… he could easily end up ruining his relationship with the other. Even if he could choose, it simply isn’t worth the risk.
The tension is beginning to drive him crazy.
He finds himself writing out long, elaborate speeches that just end up torn, crumpled and tossed into the bin. The scenarios he imagines out while staring at his bedroom ceiling at night are dismissed as even more ridiculous than the speeches.
As much as he had scoffed at the idea of asking Arthur and Gwaine straight up about their feelings when Gwen had suggested the idea, as the days pass, it begins to have merit.
He needs to know before he actually goes out of his mind. Once everything is out in the open, things can only get better, right?
He knows Arthur and Gwaine are curious when he asks them not to make any plans for Sunday lunchtime; he’d initially planned for teatime, but Gwaine’s work schedule had scuppered that. He doesn’t have the nerve to give them any more details beforehand, though.
Sunday morning finds him pacing frantically around his own room, rehearsing the things he needs to say in his head. He’s terrifyingly aware that if this goes badly wrong, he could find himself looking for somewhere else to live. He doesn’t think it will go that badly, he hopes it will go smoothly, but an annoying part of his brain keeps reminding him of the possibility.
By the time lunchtime actually rolls around, he’s practically shaking. No need for his normal caffeine hit this morning, the adrenaline is making him jumpy enough without it.
Gwaine is still just in his pyjama bottoms and a thin t-shirt when he emerges from his room shortly before noon, which doesn’t help Merlin’s nerves at all. Arthur joins them a few moments later, thankfully fully dressed.
“Can you both just… take a seat on the sofa, please?” Merlin asks them, hands flailing wildly towards the piece of furniture in question.
“Are you all right, Merlin?” Arthur says, taking a step towards Merlin instead, a concerned hand out.
Merlin nods frantically and shoes Arthur towards the sofa. “I’m fine, I’m fine. I just… I have something I want to talk about with both of you, so could you just go and sit down. Please.”
Arthur holds his hands up, looking startled. “Okay, okay.”
“Sorry.” Merlin clenches his fists and tries to regain his composure. “I didn’t mean to snap. Just… sit down?”
Arthur and Gwaine settle down together in the middle of the sofa, matching expectant expressions on their faces. The tight grip Arthur has on his own knuckles suggests he’s expecting the worst - whatever the worst might be.
Merlin paces in front of them for a few moments; he can’t do this like this. He can’t stand up like this in front of them like he’s making some sort of presentation. He casts around the room for a few moments before dragging the coffee table away from the wall and perching on the edge, his knees a few feet from those of his flatmates.
“Right,” he starts, all of his carefully rehearsed points completely disappearing from his mind. “So, I… The thing is…”
He closes his eyes for a second and takes a deep breath. “We have to get this out in the open before I go mad. Gwen told me, a couple of weeks ago… Look, you know I broke up with Will two weeks ago...”
“You’re not getting back with him, are you?” Gwaine interrupts, leaning forward.
Merlin shakes his head swiftly. “No, no, of course not. Definitely not. No, that’s not what this is. But the reasons why I broke up with him, well, the reasons I told you anyway, there are things I didn’t tell you.”
He brushes a hand through his hair, chuckling a little at himself. “I should have written this down,” he mutters. “I’m making a right hash of this.”
“Just start at the beginning,” Arthur says encouragingly.
Merlin takes a few moments and sorts his words out in his head before he tries to speak again. “I told you I broke up with Will because I couldn’t see myself with him long term, and that’s true, but really I broke up with him because…”
His nails dig into his palms and stares at the floor at their feet as he steels himself to make the admission he has been working himself up to all morning. “I broke up with him because I didn’t feel for him even a tenth of what I feel for you. Either of you, both of you.”
He chances a look up at Arthur and Gwaine, who both look slightly stunned. They’re not yelling or leaving, though, which he’s taking as a positive sign. “You don’t have to say anything,” he assures them. “I just… I thought you should know. You need to know, because it’s been driving me batty not saying anything and if we get everything out in the open then at least we can figure out what’s going on here. And also there’s something Gwen said.”
Arthur clears his throat. “Gwen?”
Merlin nods. “Gwen. I was talking to her that Friday, the day before I broke things off with Will. And I’d already decided that I wasn’t going to move in with him but it was some things she said that really got me doing some soul searching and thinking.”
He watches Arthur and Gwaine’s faces; this is it, after this he’ll know for sure. “She said, well, basically she said that I might not be the only one that feels this way. The more than friends feelings, that is. And that that was why you were both so upset with me when I told you about Will.”
Neither of them say anything, although they both look like they’d like to if they only knew what to say. Which is new - Merlin is usually the tongue-tied one in this friendship.
“If she’s wrong, then she’s wrong,” he pushes on. “And I’ve just made a bit of an idiot of myself, but nothing needs to change, I can get over it, and it’s not like…”
“She’s not wrong,” Arthur and Gwaine interrupt simultaneously, turning to look at each other in startlement.
Merlin’s breath gets caught in his throat, and his gaze darts back and forth between the two of them. He’s spent the last few weeks fairly convinced that Gwen was right, but to have it confirmed blows his mind a little.
“So you… really?”
Arthur and Gwaine glance at each other once more before nodding.
“I… well…” Merlin sits back on the table, worrying after a moment that it won’t hold his weight and relieved when nothing appears to snap or crack beneath him.
“So what do we do?” Gwaine says, echoing Merlin’s thoughts.
He shrugs a little, rubbing a damp palm across his sleeve. “Work out a way to get past it?” he suggests uncertainly. “I mean, what else can we really do?” He shifts uncomfortably. “I… look… it’s not like I can choose, can I? And even if I could, I wouldn’t. I couldn’t do that to either of you, it would just ruin things. It wouldn’t be fair.”
Arthur and Gwaine look at each other for a long moment, something passing between them that Merlin can’t identify. The matching grins when they turn back to look at Merlin worry him slightly.
“Merlin,” Arthur says seriously through his smile. “Whoever said you had to choose?”
A glance at Gwaine confirms his agreement.
Merlin nearly falls off the table in his shock. He steadies himself and stares at his flatmates - possibly soon to be rather more than that.
Still smiling, they shuffle along, opening up a space between them. Merlin blinks at them for a few moments, frozen, before launching himself into the gap.
With an offer like that, how could he ever say no?
“Arthur,” Merlin can hear Gwen saying sharply. “Put Merlin down. No one wants to see that.”
“That’s discrimination,” Arthur says - not for the first time - as he pulls back; Merlin whines involuntarily as Arthur’s lips leave his neck and wriggles closer, his hand creeping further up the back of Arthur’s untucked shirt.
“No it’s not,” Gwen responds, as always. “I’d be saying the same no matter who the two of you were. And you know it.” She laughs. “I’ve told you before, kiss all you want, but you’ve got a flat for anything else. Same as any other patrons. And you also know that I’m not above taking the soda gun to you if I have to.”
Merlin does, in fact, know this for a fact. It had only happened once, but one night of walking home with a T-shirt that still hadn’t quite dried out is quite enough.
“For crying out loud,” she continues, “it’s been nearly eight months, you’d have thought the three of you would be past this stage by now.”
Merlin nuzzles into Arthur’s neck for a second - he had never realised how convenient Arthur’s fondness for open necked shirts in the summer was until he started sleeping with him - before twisting his head to look at Gwen. “I don’t know about Arthur or Gwaine,” he grins. “But I’m never planning on getting past this stage.”
Arthur draws him back around with a hand in his hair, presses his back into the bar and presses a fierce kiss to his lips. “Me neither,” he murmurs into Merlin’s ear.
“Seriously, guys, why don’t you just wait for Gwaine at home?” Gwen asks as Merlin reluctantly twists around to face the bar, Arthur pressed tight against his back. Merlin resists rubbing against Arthur’s crotch, but only just. “You wouldn’t even have to have clothes on if you did that.”
He shrugs. “We like waiting here.”
“You have drinks,” Arthur says behind his ear. “And snacks. And sometimes a hot bartender to ogle.”
“You have food in your flat, don’t you?” Gwen says, ringing up the latest order at the till. “And leave my boyfriend out of this.” She winks.
“That’s not the point,” Arthur argues, his thumb stroking Merlin’s stomach through his T-shirt. “And not your boyfriend, either.”
Even after almost eight months, it still gives Merlin a happy wriggle in his stomach to refer to either Arthur or Gwaine as his boyfriend. Even more so when they do the same about each other; the wrangling over quite how this relationship would work had been complex at first, and the simplicity with which they’re now enjoying it still occasionally leaves Merlin staggered.
“Are you trying to dissuade paying customers there, Gwen?” Gwaine says, coming out from the back room, back into his regular clothes after his stint behind the bar in the admittedly flattering black uniform polo.
“I don’t think I could get rid of those two if I tried,” Gwen retorts.
“Just to be sure…” Gwaine rounds the bar and skirts a small group of friends to reach Merlin and Arthur. “Don’t try.”
He slings an arm around Arthur’s back and drops a quick kiss on each of their mouths in turn. “You ready?”
“More than,” Merlin responds, tugging him back for a proper kiss. It’s just beginning to get interesting when a bar towel smacks him on the ear.
“Seriously, you three, get out of here before you do something that gets you arrested for indecent exposure,” Gwen says, brandishing the towel as if to swing it again.
Untangling himself from Arthur, Merlin steps away from the bar and holds his hands up in surrender. “All right, all right, we’re going, okay?”
“See you in class on Wednesday, Merlin?” Gwen calls as he makes his way out of the Peacock with Arthur and Gwaine.
He turns and walks backwards, trusting them to keep him from smacking into anything or anyone. “Absolutely, with bells on. And maybe this week I’ll even paint something that doesn’t unintentionally end up an abstract.”
“Well, miracles can happen,” she grins, turning back to her next customer.
Despite the early evening hour, the sun is still beating hotly down on their backs as they emerge from the cool shade of the pub. The three of them walking anywhere together had always been highly likely to result in a bit of horsing around on the way, but in the months since they went from flatmates to more-than-friends, their antics have tended to include just as many stolen kisses and sly gropes as they do shoves, tickles and prods in the ribs.
As a result, it isn’t only the June sunshine that has them hot and bothered by the time they stumble against the front door of their flat. Merlin digs frantically in his jeans pocket for his keys, only to have Arthur nudge him out of the way and open the door himself.
The door is barely closed behind them when Merlin finds himself edged up against the wall in the hallway, Gwaine’s tongue stroking the roof of his mouth. Arthur’s hair starts to tickle his cheek a moment later as he attacks Gwaine’s neck from behind.
“It’s… far too hot… for all these clothes,” he pants when he pulls back, the back of his head knocking against the wall.
“Couldn’t agree more.” Gwaine smirks predatorily and tugs at Merlin’s belt loops.
They strip each other efficiently as they bump their way down the hallway to Arthur’s room - Arthur’s bed had been the only one, on experimentation, they’d found they could all fit into comfortably at the same time, and they haven’t quite rid themselves of the habit of referring to the room as being Arthur’s, despite the lack of regular use that Merlin and Gwaine’s rooms see.
The sunlight through the window casts a bright slant across the bed, and Merlin pushes Arthur down in the middle of it, enjoying the glint of the sun’s rays on his fair hair.
It’s barely a second before he finds himself sprawled facedown on the sheets beside him, courtesy of an impatient Gwaine.
Reaching behind him, he tugs at Gwaine until he settles where he wants him, shoulders against the mound of pillows at the head of the bed.
Blanketing Gwaine’s body with his own, Merlin nips sharply at a nipple before starting a slow slide down his chest. Arthur wriggles around beside them; Merlin is momentarily distracted from his target when Arthur takes Gwaine’s mouth in a deep kiss, little pleased moans slipping out from between their lips.
Refocusing, he slips lower, his own already painfully hard cock brushing pleasurably against Gwaine’s strong leg. His mouth is already watering by the time he is faced with Gwaine’s, and he doesn’t hesitate, taking it as deep as he can in one swoop.
Gwaine’s hips jerk up in response, his groan loud even muffled through Arthur’s mouth. Merlin rests one hand on a muscled thigh, holding him steady as he begins a steady pace. He knows what Gwaine likes, alternating deep sucks with lighter, more teasing, tongue swirls. Two hands come to tangle in his hair; only one of them is Gwaine’s.
Arthur’s cock sways in his peripheral vision, his hips shifting as he evidently seeks friction. Merlin reaches up, spreading the fluid already gathering at the tip and matching the pace of his mouth. Arthur’s fingers tighten almost painfully in his hair, the pull just sharp enough to send a pulse of pleasure down Merlin’s spine.
Merlin lets his eyes drift closed, the breathy moans from above his head washing over him as he loses himself in his task.
“Merlin,” Gwaine grunts some amount of time later - Merlin doesn’t have any idea of how long, but the sun is still bright in the window when he opens his eyes so he doesn’t reckon it’s too long. He blinks up at Gwaine, drawing back so just the tip of Gwaine’s cock is in his mouth and licking into the slit at the tip.
“Stop, Merlin, stop,” Gwaine breathes, gripping at Merlin’s shoulders. “Too close, stop.”
Merlin pulls back, propping himself up on an elbow and letting his eyes stroke over Gwaine’s sweat-damp, heaving chest. Giving into impulse, he licks a line up across his stomach and chest, the salty tang mixing with Gwaine’s unique taste on his tongue.
Face buried in Gwaine’s neck, Merlin doesn’t notice Arthur moving until a wet heat lands on his lower back, tickling around a knob on his spine and making him squirm. Gwaine’s hands wrap around the nape of his neck, tugging slightly, and Merlin follows the lead, settling comfortable between Gwaine’s thighs, their lips lined up perfectly for sweetly drugging kisses.
The pressure on his back inches lower, and Merlin lets his thighs fall open in anticipation, wriggling slightly until his cock lines up against Gwaine’s. Gwaine rocks up against him gently, the hot slide on the sensitive skin of his cock knotting deep in the pit of Merlin’s stomach.
The slow rub distracts Merlin entirely from Arthur’s tongue until it circles his hole, sending a bolt of ecstasy right through his body. He pushes back instinctively, wanting more, but then Gwaine’s hips circle up again and he can’t help but thrust against them.
He’s caught, suspended between the two pleasures, his body at war with itself on what it wants more. Arthur licks deeper, Gwaine thrusts harder, and Merlin drifts blissfully, his back arching as tingles shoot through his veins, curling his toes and sparking at his fingertips.
He’s only vaguely aware of Arthur pulling away, saying something to Gwaine. There’s fumbling in the top drawer, and then the heat of Arthur’s tongue is replaced by a coolly slick finger.
“Cold!” he complains against Gwaine’s lips.
“Sorry,” Arthur mumbles insincerely against his shoulder. “Won’t happen again.”
It will, Merlin knows it will - Arthur seems to take a perverse pleasure in making him jump at the temperature - but when a second finger joins the first, he can’t bring himself to care.
He has to bite his lip to hold back from the edge when Arthur curls the tips of his fingers, brushing against that spot deep inside him that makes him see stars. “No more,” he mumbles, batting behind him at Arthur and trying to get his knees under him. “Now, please.”
He pulls Gwaine up with him until they’re kneeling together in the centre of the bed, bodies plastered together from thigh to shoulder. Sliding his hands down from Gwaine’s shoulder blades, he grips the firm arse cheeks he so loves to admire in tight jeans and pulls them tight together.
Arthur fumbles around behind him for a few seconds before he presses up against his back, hard cock sliding slickly against his hole.
He wriggles, frustrated. “Don’t tease, Arthur,” he mutters breathlessly. “Just, now.”
Arthur reaches around them and grants his wish, pushing in slowly, the familiar burning stretch nearly tipping Merlin over the edge.
They set up a slow rhythm, Merlin screwing back onto Arthur's cock and then forward, grinding against Gwaine’s. It can’t stay that way, and they gradually writhe together faster and faster, their wet kisses getting sloppier and less coordinated, as they chase release.
Merlin crashes over the edge first, every muscle in his body quivering as fireworks go off behind his closed eyelids. He’s still trembling in the aftershocks, not entirely aware, when Arthur and then Gwaine follow him over.
When he regains full consciousness, he’s sandwiched between Arthur and Gwaine, their heads sharing a single pillow. Arthur hands him a wet-wipe from the tube on the bedside table, and he cleans up quickly, his eyelids already starting to droop.
Gwaine hooks the duvet from the bottom of the bed with his foot, tugging it up over them and wrapping an arm around Merlin’s waist.
A lazy glance at the digital clock over Arthur’s shoulder tells him it’s still fairly early; dinner can wait for a while. Right now, with his lovers around him, he’s exactly where he wants to be.
-end-
Comments and concrit are loved!
Fandom: Merlin
Pairings: Merlin/Will, Merlin/Arthur/Gwaine
Rating: R
Disclaimer: If I owned Merlin... well, let's just say a few things would be different.
Spoilers: None, modern AU
Summary: Will asks Merlin an important question. Merlin's struggle for an answer leads him on a journey of self-discovery that lands him somewhere he'd never have imagined.
Author's Note: Written for the Spring Fling fest on kinkme_merlin, for this prompt. It got such lovely comments there that I decided to de-anon.
Thanks to: pinkfairy727 who beta'd, and was also my head cheerleader while I battled through writing this.
Part One
Part Two
Gwen and Merlin are onto their third drinks by the time Arthur, Gwaine and Lancelot return, quite evidently having made a few trips back to the bar themselves in the meantime.
Merlin knows, although the thought is slightly fuzzy, that he should cut himself off after this one. He needs to be thinking clearly tomorrow afternoon, and he won’t be if he’s feeling hungover and sorry for himself.
And besides, he still needs to figure out what he’s actually going to say to Will. Which he’d been planning on doing this evening, but all he can think about now is Gwen’s words earlier.
Despite repeated assertions that he thinks she is wrong, Merlin is, in fact, getting less and less sure by the minute. It would explain the extreme reactions to his news on Tuesday. And when he dredges his memory, he’s not so sure that he hasn’t seen something more in various looks over the years. But maybe that’s just his brain putting a spin on things that never existed.
He’s even less sure what he wants to do about it if it does in fact turn out to be true. If he says nothing, does nothing, they could go on just as they have for years, with the one difference that Merlin would know it wasn’t really what Arthur or Gwaine wanted.
But the alternatives - if he does something, says something… Things could get very uncomfortable.
And why would he say anything? He’s with Will, after all. And Arthur and Gwaine are his friends. Nothing needs to change, unless he wants it to.
And he doesn’t think he wants it to. But maybe he does.
“Merlin?”
Merlin is startled out of his reverie by Lancelot’s concerned voice and the nudge he gets in the side.
“Are you okay? You’ve been having a staring contest with your pint for a good fifteen minutes now, and I hate to tell you this, but you’re not going to win.”
Merlin shorts and shakes himself. “I’m fine,” he reassures his friends. “Just… tired. Long day.” It’s not entirely a lie.
He looks down at the inch or so of lager still in the bottom of his glass and pushes it away. “Might beg off now, though. Before I actually fall asleep on one of you.”
A memory surfaces of Arthur and Gwaine half-carrying him back to the flat once, years ago, when several all-night study sessions in a row had conspired to have him actually fall asleep on them in the pub. And they’d attempted to get him home without bothering to wake him up first.
“Need someone to walk back with you?” Lance asks as Merlin starts gathering his coat and scarf and putting them on.
Merlin shakes his head and laughs. “No, it’s okay. I’m a big boy now, you know. I can look after myself for all of a ten minute walk home.” He bumps his shoulder against Lance’s as they stand up, Lancelot sliding out of the booth to let Merlin out. “Thanks, though.”
He tucks his scarf into his coat and pats his pocket, checking for his keys, before he turns back to the table. “Don’t drink too much,” he grins at them before turning to wend his way through the pub to the door. He can just hear Gwen calling ‘We never do!’ over the noise of the multiple conversations going on around him.
The night air is sobering, a sharp breeze blowing empty wrappers from the chippie up the road along the pavement, along with the odd empty can.
Merlin shoves his hands in his pockets for warmth as he walks the familiar route, his mind still back in the pub with Arthur and Gwaine.
One fleeting thought has turned into a hundred, and suddenly he’s second guessing everything he’s ever thought about his relationships with Arthur and Gwaine; his relationship with Will.
If someone had asked him this time last week, he would have said with absolute certainty that he was happy with Will. Sure, they weren’t perfect, but no one was. They had a good thing going.
Seven days later, and he isn’t certain at all any more what it was he actually feels for Will. He likes him, he likes him a lot, and they have had some brilliant times together, but Merlin is beginning to suspect his reluctance to move in with him might just be a symptom of a deeper problem.
If it is, he feels he really ought to figure it out before he sees Will tomorrow. It’s not fair on Will if he’s just leading him on.
The front door of his building appears more quickly than expected, and Merlin digs into his pocket for his keys. Once safely back in the flat, he rushes through his bedtime routine and settles down under his warm duvet to think.
Arthur and Gwaine - in love with him? He doesn’t know what to do with the idea.
He and Arthur have been friends for so long that it seems a little ludicrous that he wouldn’t have said something by now. Merlin had been an almost painfully shy twelve year old when they first met, and Arthur had been the one to draw him out, let him grow into himself. Arthur was the first person he came out to, back when they were still spotty teenagers, and he hadn’t really been all that surprised when Arthur’s response had been that he was actually pretty sure that he was bi.
The topic of them together has never come up, though. He certainly isn’t Arthur’s usual type - for a start, he can count past ten without taking his shoes and socks off. Judging on the assortment of ditzy girls and guys he’s seen Arthur with over the years, he isn’t surprised that Arthur never sticks with the same one for more than a few weeks at a time. If that.
And okay, it’s not that he’s never considered it. Arthur’s never been hard on the eyes, and he’s also never been shy about wandering around in just his pants. They’re friends, but Merlin would have to be blind not to have looked.
He can even be sweet and charming, when he puts his mind to it. Although more often than not the sweetness of his actions is disguised by the brusque manner in which he performs them.
He’s been like that for the entirety of their friendship, and Merlin doesn’t think he’d change now - doesn’t want him to change. They’d probably never even have become friends otherwise.
The only kid from his primary school to win a scholarship to Camelot Academy, Merlin hadn’t known a soul his first day there, and hadn’t found it easy fitting in. Arthur, he’d learned later, hadn’t had any of his friends from primary school either, but as a generally confident and talkative type, he hadn’t found the transition quite as difficult as Merlin had.
Merlin remembers, now, watching him in the corridors those first few weeks. His bright shock of blond hair had always marked him out, and it seemed that everyone knew who he was. It was a sharp contrast to Merlin himself, the dark scrawny kid who kept his head down and mainly just tried to make it through each day.
But Arthur… Arthur had grinned at him in the corridors every day, the only one of the rich elite Merlin was now surrounded with who took the time out of their day to notice him at all.
A flood of forgotten emotion sweeps through Merlin’s veins as he drifts into the past. He remembers how he came to live for those encounters with Arthur, engineering opportunities to be in the same place as Arthur as many times as he could through the day. His sexuality just beginning to make itself known, he’d quickly developed an all-encompassing crush on Arthur.
And then one day Arthur had simply taken him by the arm and brashly declared that they were going to be friends now. Merlin had never been given a choice, but knows he would have jumped at the chance had it been framed as an offer rather than an edict.
It hadn’t taken long for them to become inseparable, Arthur confessing a few weeks in that most of the ‘friends’ he’d made in the first few days at Camelot had been far more interested in how rich his father was than in actually getting to know Arthur himself. As their friendship had developed - with no hints yet that Arthur was not the unattainable straight boy Merlin had first thought him - Merlin’s crush had been pushed further and further into his subconscious until he’d forgotten it even existed.
Until now.
If Gwen is right - and Merlin realises that somewhere between their conversation earlier and now he has come to the conclusion that she very probably is - Merlin cannot help but wonder now if he wasn’t the only one harbouring inappropriate feelings for a best friend.
It doesn’t entirely explain why he would never have mentioned it, but Merlin knows Arthur well enough to know how easily he can slip into self-preservation mode. And it’s not like he’s ever admitted his crush to Arthur either.
Where any of it leaves them now, he hasn’t the slightest clue.
Twisting onto his back, Merlin stares at the ceiling in the dim light cast by his bedside lamp. Sadly, it doesn’t seem willing to provide him with the inspiration needed to figure out what to do with his situation.
A boyfriend that he can no longer say with confidence he wants to be with, and not one but two best friends and roommates who might possibly have feelings for him. He doesn’t want to consider how it could possibly get more complicated.
One complication of a best friend relationship would really have been quite enough.
Merlin wriggles down further in bed, tucking the duvet around his shoulders.
It isn’t entirely ridiculous to accept that Gwaine’s feelings might not be entirely those of platonic friendship, considering their history. Even if Merlin can’t, now, remember an awful lot of that particular night.
At the time, Merlin had been a slightly sloshed 18 year old on a night out with some coursemates, Gwaine had been the hot stranger who’d somehow looked past Merlin’s admittedly unique dancing style on the club dance floor and had bought him a drink. Most of the rest of the evening is a little sketchy in Merlin’s head, disjointed scenes and snapshots rather than a smooth sequence of events.
Meeting Gwaine again several weeks later, introduced by Arthur as the barman he’d befriended at their local, had been initially awkward. Merlin can’t remember now if either of them ever actually told Arthur they’d met before that, but they’d determinedly put that one night stand behind them and the friendship had gone from there.
Merlin is beginning to wonder just how good he is at pushing things into his subconscious and ignoring them. And if it’s something he should worry about. He hasn’t thought about any of these things for years, and it seems they’re a lot less resolved than he’d thought they were.
One thing is finally clear, though - he can’t drag Will through this. His confused feelings are his own problem, and Will deserves more.
The thought of breaking things off with Will doesn’t upset him nearly as much as he knows it probably should, considering that a few days ago he was considering the possibility of moving in with the guy.
His skill at self-delusion is clearly exceptional.
Turning off the lamp, Merlin buries his face in the pillow. It’s clear what he has do at lunch tomorrow, and after that… well, he’s just going to have to figure that one out.
Will is already waiting, bundled up in a parka, when Merlin rounds the corner and crosses the car park to the pub. He grins when he spots Merlin, but even from several metres away Merlin can see the apprehension behind the smile.
He leans over and presses a light kiss to Will’s cheek as he gets near. “Hey.”
“Hi,” Will nods, gesturing towards the front door of the pub next to them. “After you.”
Merlin can feel Will close behind him as they go through the two sets of doors into the cosy interior of the pub. There’s a fire roaring in the fireplace on one wall and, cold after his walk here, Merlin heads towards the closest vacant table he can find to it.
Neither of them bothers to pick up the menu once they’ve got their coats off and settled into their chairs; the menu here hasn’t changed in at least the ten months since they first came here, and they both know what they like on it.
Double checking his pocket for his wallet and taking mental note of the number inscribed on the table, Merlin stands up and takes a backwards step towards the bar. “You want your usual?” he asks, getting a nod and a smile in response.
It’s not busy, so Merlin has ordered their food and is back at the table with two full glasses within a couple of minutes. “So… busy week?” he starts, taking a sip as he sits back down.
“Not really,” Will responds, doing the same. “Pretty quiet on new client meetings this week, so finally been catching up on all the paperwork that’s been piling up. From your texts sounds like you’ve had a bit more on.”
Merlin shrugs, grateful that Will seems willing to go along with the small-talk for now. “Well, Freya at work’s been sick, and we’ve been trying to reschedule appointments and cover all her patients. So it’s been a bit frantic. And some of them weren’t very happy with seeing a different physio. I don’t know how she copes with some of them, actually…”
They manage to keep up the inconsequential chat right through their meals arriving and they’re thankfully down the point of the last few bites before Merlin runs out of light-hearted topics to introduce and knows it’s time to get to the point.
“So…” he says, placing his cutlery carefully side-by-side on his plate. “We should probably talk about the reason I asked you to come today.”
“It’s a no, isn’t it?” Will pushes his empty plate to the side and rests his elbows on the table.
Merlin blinks. There’s no point in denying it. “How did you know?”
Will shrugs self-depreciatingly. “All the signs pointed that way. You took four days to think it over, we’ve hardly talked in those four days, and you’ve clearly been putting off this conversation all through lunch. It didn’t really take a genius to figure it out.”
“Point,” Merlin concedes. “It’s not that… I don’t…” He takes a deep breath. “I do like you. We get along well, we’ve had some great times, it’s just… I think…”
“It’s okay if you’re not ready,” Will says. “I didn’t mean to pressure you into anything, I just thought you should know that…”
“No, Will,” Merlin interrupts. “It’s… it’s not just that, okay?” He bites his cheek nervously. “I…”
Will sits back, realisation dawning on his face. “This is more than just not wanting to move in, isn’t it?”
Merlin nods slowly. “I’ve been doing a lot of thinking the last few days, about a lot of things. And I realised a few things about myself I’d been ignoring for a long time. I’ve still… well, I’ve got a lot of things still to figure out, but those are my problem. The thing it comes down to though, is… it wouldn’t be fair to you to carry on like this.”
“If you’ve got a problem, you know you can talk to me,” Will says earnestly. “I can be there for you if you…”
Merlin shakes his head vehemently, cutting off Will’s comment. “No. It’s not anything you can help with. I don’t even think it’s something that needs helping, it’s just…” He rubs his hands on the thighs of his jeans and goes for it. “I like you, I really do. But I don’t think I’m ever going to love you in the way I’d need to for us to work long term.”
Will sits stock still for a long moment; Merlin watches him worriedly. “Right,” he says eventually. “So… I guess this is it, then?”
Merlin nods. “I didn’t want to hurt you, but I don’t want to lead you on, either,” he explains, not sure if he’s making it better or worse.
“Yeah, I get it,” Will says blankly. “I… “
“Are you okay?” Merlin asks; he hates hurting him like this.
Will just shoots him a look.
“Right, okay, stupid question.” Merlin looks around the pub. “Do you want me to leave?”
Will shrugs. “Maybe?” He looks down at his hands on the tabletop. “It might be better if you did, actually. I… it’s not entirely unexpected, I guess, but… Yeah, it’d probably be better if you went.”
Merlin gathers his coat and scarf and starts putting them on even as he stands up. “I…umm… bye.”
Still buttoning his coat, he flees; he never wants to have to do something like that again.
He’s apprehensive when he opens the flat door; he hasn’t seen either Arthur or Gwaine yet today - neither of them had surfaced by the time he left to walk to the pub to meet Will. He suspects last night turned into quite a late one - it wouldn’t be out of the ordinary, and he was solidly asleep before they got home.
The curtains haven’t been fully drawn in the living room, and the volume on the TV is low, which he considers confirmation of his suspicions.
“Hey, you guys, late one last night?” he asks casually as he strips off his coat and toes off his shoes.
“I always forget that if Lancelot suggests playing a drinking game,” Arthur starts, voice soft, “I’m supposed to say no way. How that man can still remember so many stupid rules after so many drinks defies me.”
Merlin eases down onto the end of the sofa beside them. He’s fallen into the trap of drinking games with Lance himself a few times, and it never ends well. “So a bit fragile today, then?”
“A bit,” grunts Gwaine, who definitely looks like he’d rather be back in bed. “And I have work in a couple hours.”
Merlin smiles sympathetically.
“Where you been off out to, anyway?” Arthur asks, squinting sideways at Merlin.
“I met Will for lunch at the Coach and Four.”
A scowl flashes across Arthur’s face, brief but unmistakeable. “Oh.”
“I… um…” Merlin picks at a mark on the sofa arm studiously, unsure quite how they’re going to react to his latest bit of news. “I broke up with him.”
A hand on his shoulder pulls him around to face his flatmates.
“Seriously?” Arthur says, Gwaine echoing with, “Why?” a moment later. Clearly this isn’t the news either of them was expecting this afternoon.
“I did a lot of thinking after Tuesday night,” Merlin says, shrugging a little. “And eventually I realised that the reason I didn’t feel ready to move in with him is that I just…” He runs a hand through his hair. “I can’t imagine myself with him in five years’ time. I don’t know that I ever loved him in quite the way I thought I did.”
He debates for a second making a vague mention of Gwen’s involvement, but decides against it; that conversation has far too much potential to get into territory he’s just not ready to discuss yet.
“Are you sure you’re okay?” Arthur asks, slinging an arm around his shoulders.
Merlin leans a little into the hug. “I’m fine, honestly,” he says. “I know I should be more upset than this, but I’m not.”
The only thing he’s upset about is how awkwardly he left things; actually having broken up with Will has left him with more of a sense of relief.
“So you don’t need to come drown your sorrows while I work tonight?” Gwaine asks, leaning in.
Merlin shakes his head, grinning. “Seeing the state of you two this afternoon, I think not.”
Arthur’s arm tightens around his neck, hand coming up to ruffle Merlin’s hair. “Oi!”
Merlin ducks away. “Meant with the utmost of affection, of course,” he expands quickly. Armed with Gwen’s knowledge from the night before and his own resurfaced memories, he identifies the momentary flash of expression across Arthur’s face as pleasure at his statement.
He’s suddenly struck with the truth of this new situation: every interaction he has with Arthur or Gwaine now is going to be affected until he can figure out his own feelings about things. He nearly straightens and pulls away, but that will just prompt more questions than its worth.
And besides, he’s enjoying it. He hadn’t realised until now just how much he’d missed about the usual close relationship he shares with his flatmates, even just for the few days they’d been pushing him away.
If he never sees Will again it will hurt - he likes to think that some day they might find their way to being friends - but he’ll get over it. Just the thought of actually being separated from Arthur or Gwaine for an extended period of time - let alone forever - is a physical pain in his gut. They’re more than just his best friends; he can’t imagine life without them.
In retaliation for the hated hair ruffle, almost without volition, he finds himself elbowing Arthur lightly in the ribs.
When Gwaine pounces on his socked feet and initiates a tickle war - something which had been almost a weekly event in their flat at one point - he knows he’s done for.
Merlin doesn’t know what to do. Having finally given his brain permission to think about it, he cannot stop thinking about what ‘more than friends’ would be like with Arthur. Or Gwaine. Or Arthur and Gwaine. The last has provided him with enough late night fantasy fodder to last years, even though he knows it’s probably rather less likely than either of the other scenarios to actually come true.
He keeps finding himself watching them whenever the occasion arises, and he’s fairly sure it’s becoming noticeable.
Although he apparently managed not to notice Arthur and Gwaine doing the same to him for years so he probably shouldn’t be so worried that they’ll have noticed after just a little over a week.
It can’t go on like this, though. He needs to say something, do something. And he will… just as soon as he figures out what that should be.
He does know he can’t lose them - either of them. And he knows with sinking certainty that if he were to attempt to pursue anything with one of them… he could easily end up ruining his relationship with the other. Even if he could choose, it simply isn’t worth the risk.
The tension is beginning to drive him crazy.
He finds himself writing out long, elaborate speeches that just end up torn, crumpled and tossed into the bin. The scenarios he imagines out while staring at his bedroom ceiling at night are dismissed as even more ridiculous than the speeches.
As much as he had scoffed at the idea of asking Arthur and Gwaine straight up about their feelings when Gwen had suggested the idea, as the days pass, it begins to have merit.
He needs to know before he actually goes out of his mind. Once everything is out in the open, things can only get better, right?
He knows Arthur and Gwaine are curious when he asks them not to make any plans for Sunday lunchtime; he’d initially planned for teatime, but Gwaine’s work schedule had scuppered that. He doesn’t have the nerve to give them any more details beforehand, though.
Sunday morning finds him pacing frantically around his own room, rehearsing the things he needs to say in his head. He’s terrifyingly aware that if this goes badly wrong, he could find himself looking for somewhere else to live. He doesn’t think it will go that badly, he hopes it will go smoothly, but an annoying part of his brain keeps reminding him of the possibility.
By the time lunchtime actually rolls around, he’s practically shaking. No need for his normal caffeine hit this morning, the adrenaline is making him jumpy enough without it.
Gwaine is still just in his pyjama bottoms and a thin t-shirt when he emerges from his room shortly before noon, which doesn’t help Merlin’s nerves at all. Arthur joins them a few moments later, thankfully fully dressed.
“Can you both just… take a seat on the sofa, please?” Merlin asks them, hands flailing wildly towards the piece of furniture in question.
“Are you all right, Merlin?” Arthur says, taking a step towards Merlin instead, a concerned hand out.
Merlin nods frantically and shoes Arthur towards the sofa. “I’m fine, I’m fine. I just… I have something I want to talk about with both of you, so could you just go and sit down. Please.”
Arthur holds his hands up, looking startled. “Okay, okay.”
“Sorry.” Merlin clenches his fists and tries to regain his composure. “I didn’t mean to snap. Just… sit down?”
Arthur and Gwaine settle down together in the middle of the sofa, matching expectant expressions on their faces. The tight grip Arthur has on his own knuckles suggests he’s expecting the worst - whatever the worst might be.
Merlin paces in front of them for a few moments; he can’t do this like this. He can’t stand up like this in front of them like he’s making some sort of presentation. He casts around the room for a few moments before dragging the coffee table away from the wall and perching on the edge, his knees a few feet from those of his flatmates.
“Right,” he starts, all of his carefully rehearsed points completely disappearing from his mind. “So, I… The thing is…”
He closes his eyes for a second and takes a deep breath. “We have to get this out in the open before I go mad. Gwen told me, a couple of weeks ago… Look, you know I broke up with Will two weeks ago...”
“You’re not getting back with him, are you?” Gwaine interrupts, leaning forward.
Merlin shakes his head swiftly. “No, no, of course not. Definitely not. No, that’s not what this is. But the reasons why I broke up with him, well, the reasons I told you anyway, there are things I didn’t tell you.”
He brushes a hand through his hair, chuckling a little at himself. “I should have written this down,” he mutters. “I’m making a right hash of this.”
“Just start at the beginning,” Arthur says encouragingly.
Merlin takes a few moments and sorts his words out in his head before he tries to speak again. “I told you I broke up with Will because I couldn’t see myself with him long term, and that’s true, but really I broke up with him because…”
His nails dig into his palms and stares at the floor at their feet as he steels himself to make the admission he has been working himself up to all morning. “I broke up with him because I didn’t feel for him even a tenth of what I feel for you. Either of you, both of you.”
He chances a look up at Arthur and Gwaine, who both look slightly stunned. They’re not yelling or leaving, though, which he’s taking as a positive sign. “You don’t have to say anything,” he assures them. “I just… I thought you should know. You need to know, because it’s been driving me batty not saying anything and if we get everything out in the open then at least we can figure out what’s going on here. And also there’s something Gwen said.”
Arthur clears his throat. “Gwen?”
Merlin nods. “Gwen. I was talking to her that Friday, the day before I broke things off with Will. And I’d already decided that I wasn’t going to move in with him but it was some things she said that really got me doing some soul searching and thinking.”
He watches Arthur and Gwaine’s faces; this is it, after this he’ll know for sure. “She said, well, basically she said that I might not be the only one that feels this way. The more than friends feelings, that is. And that that was why you were both so upset with me when I told you about Will.”
Neither of them say anything, although they both look like they’d like to if they only knew what to say. Which is new - Merlin is usually the tongue-tied one in this friendship.
“If she’s wrong, then she’s wrong,” he pushes on. “And I’ve just made a bit of an idiot of myself, but nothing needs to change, I can get over it, and it’s not like…”
“She’s not wrong,” Arthur and Gwaine interrupt simultaneously, turning to look at each other in startlement.
Merlin’s breath gets caught in his throat, and his gaze darts back and forth between the two of them. He’s spent the last few weeks fairly convinced that Gwen was right, but to have it confirmed blows his mind a little.
“So you… really?”
Arthur and Gwaine glance at each other once more before nodding.
“I… well…” Merlin sits back on the table, worrying after a moment that it won’t hold his weight and relieved when nothing appears to snap or crack beneath him.
“So what do we do?” Gwaine says, echoing Merlin’s thoughts.
He shrugs a little, rubbing a damp palm across his sleeve. “Work out a way to get past it?” he suggests uncertainly. “I mean, what else can we really do?” He shifts uncomfortably. “I… look… it’s not like I can choose, can I? And even if I could, I wouldn’t. I couldn’t do that to either of you, it would just ruin things. It wouldn’t be fair.”
Arthur and Gwaine look at each other for a long moment, something passing between them that Merlin can’t identify. The matching grins when they turn back to look at Merlin worry him slightly.
“Merlin,” Arthur says seriously through his smile. “Whoever said you had to choose?”
A glance at Gwaine confirms his agreement.
Merlin nearly falls off the table in his shock. He steadies himself and stares at his flatmates - possibly soon to be rather more than that.
Still smiling, they shuffle along, opening up a space between them. Merlin blinks at them for a few moments, frozen, before launching himself into the gap.
With an offer like that, how could he ever say no?
“Arthur,” Merlin can hear Gwen saying sharply. “Put Merlin down. No one wants to see that.”
“That’s discrimination,” Arthur says - not for the first time - as he pulls back; Merlin whines involuntarily as Arthur’s lips leave his neck and wriggles closer, his hand creeping further up the back of Arthur’s untucked shirt.
“No it’s not,” Gwen responds, as always. “I’d be saying the same no matter who the two of you were. And you know it.” She laughs. “I’ve told you before, kiss all you want, but you’ve got a flat for anything else. Same as any other patrons. And you also know that I’m not above taking the soda gun to you if I have to.”
Merlin does, in fact, know this for a fact. It had only happened once, but one night of walking home with a T-shirt that still hadn’t quite dried out is quite enough.
“For crying out loud,” she continues, “it’s been nearly eight months, you’d have thought the three of you would be past this stage by now.”
Merlin nuzzles into Arthur’s neck for a second - he had never realised how convenient Arthur’s fondness for open necked shirts in the summer was until he started sleeping with him - before twisting his head to look at Gwen. “I don’t know about Arthur or Gwaine,” he grins. “But I’m never planning on getting past this stage.”
Arthur draws him back around with a hand in his hair, presses his back into the bar and presses a fierce kiss to his lips. “Me neither,” he murmurs into Merlin’s ear.
“Seriously, guys, why don’t you just wait for Gwaine at home?” Gwen asks as Merlin reluctantly twists around to face the bar, Arthur pressed tight against his back. Merlin resists rubbing against Arthur’s crotch, but only just. “You wouldn’t even have to have clothes on if you did that.”
He shrugs. “We like waiting here.”
“You have drinks,” Arthur says behind his ear. “And snacks. And sometimes a hot bartender to ogle.”
“You have food in your flat, don’t you?” Gwen says, ringing up the latest order at the till. “And leave my boyfriend out of this.” She winks.
“That’s not the point,” Arthur argues, his thumb stroking Merlin’s stomach through his T-shirt. “And not your boyfriend, either.”
Even after almost eight months, it still gives Merlin a happy wriggle in his stomach to refer to either Arthur or Gwaine as his boyfriend. Even more so when they do the same about each other; the wrangling over quite how this relationship would work had been complex at first, and the simplicity with which they’re now enjoying it still occasionally leaves Merlin staggered.
“Are you trying to dissuade paying customers there, Gwen?” Gwaine says, coming out from the back room, back into his regular clothes after his stint behind the bar in the admittedly flattering black uniform polo.
“I don’t think I could get rid of those two if I tried,” Gwen retorts.
“Just to be sure…” Gwaine rounds the bar and skirts a small group of friends to reach Merlin and Arthur. “Don’t try.”
He slings an arm around Arthur’s back and drops a quick kiss on each of their mouths in turn. “You ready?”
“More than,” Merlin responds, tugging him back for a proper kiss. It’s just beginning to get interesting when a bar towel smacks him on the ear.
“Seriously, you three, get out of here before you do something that gets you arrested for indecent exposure,” Gwen says, brandishing the towel as if to swing it again.
Untangling himself from Arthur, Merlin steps away from the bar and holds his hands up in surrender. “All right, all right, we’re going, okay?”
“See you in class on Wednesday, Merlin?” Gwen calls as he makes his way out of the Peacock with Arthur and Gwaine.
He turns and walks backwards, trusting them to keep him from smacking into anything or anyone. “Absolutely, with bells on. And maybe this week I’ll even paint something that doesn’t unintentionally end up an abstract.”
“Well, miracles can happen,” she grins, turning back to her next customer.
Despite the early evening hour, the sun is still beating hotly down on their backs as they emerge from the cool shade of the pub. The three of them walking anywhere together had always been highly likely to result in a bit of horsing around on the way, but in the months since they went from flatmates to more-than-friends, their antics have tended to include just as many stolen kisses and sly gropes as they do shoves, tickles and prods in the ribs.
As a result, it isn’t only the June sunshine that has them hot and bothered by the time they stumble against the front door of their flat. Merlin digs frantically in his jeans pocket for his keys, only to have Arthur nudge him out of the way and open the door himself.
The door is barely closed behind them when Merlin finds himself edged up against the wall in the hallway, Gwaine’s tongue stroking the roof of his mouth. Arthur’s hair starts to tickle his cheek a moment later as he attacks Gwaine’s neck from behind.
“It’s… far too hot… for all these clothes,” he pants when he pulls back, the back of his head knocking against the wall.
“Couldn’t agree more.” Gwaine smirks predatorily and tugs at Merlin’s belt loops.
They strip each other efficiently as they bump their way down the hallway to Arthur’s room - Arthur’s bed had been the only one, on experimentation, they’d found they could all fit into comfortably at the same time, and they haven’t quite rid themselves of the habit of referring to the room as being Arthur’s, despite the lack of regular use that Merlin and Gwaine’s rooms see.
The sunlight through the window casts a bright slant across the bed, and Merlin pushes Arthur down in the middle of it, enjoying the glint of the sun’s rays on his fair hair.
It’s barely a second before he finds himself sprawled facedown on the sheets beside him, courtesy of an impatient Gwaine.
Reaching behind him, he tugs at Gwaine until he settles where he wants him, shoulders against the mound of pillows at the head of the bed.
Blanketing Gwaine’s body with his own, Merlin nips sharply at a nipple before starting a slow slide down his chest. Arthur wriggles around beside them; Merlin is momentarily distracted from his target when Arthur takes Gwaine’s mouth in a deep kiss, little pleased moans slipping out from between their lips.
Refocusing, he slips lower, his own already painfully hard cock brushing pleasurably against Gwaine’s strong leg. His mouth is already watering by the time he is faced with Gwaine’s, and he doesn’t hesitate, taking it as deep as he can in one swoop.
Gwaine’s hips jerk up in response, his groan loud even muffled through Arthur’s mouth. Merlin rests one hand on a muscled thigh, holding him steady as he begins a steady pace. He knows what Gwaine likes, alternating deep sucks with lighter, more teasing, tongue swirls. Two hands come to tangle in his hair; only one of them is Gwaine’s.
Arthur’s cock sways in his peripheral vision, his hips shifting as he evidently seeks friction. Merlin reaches up, spreading the fluid already gathering at the tip and matching the pace of his mouth. Arthur’s fingers tighten almost painfully in his hair, the pull just sharp enough to send a pulse of pleasure down Merlin’s spine.
Merlin lets his eyes drift closed, the breathy moans from above his head washing over him as he loses himself in his task.
“Merlin,” Gwaine grunts some amount of time later - Merlin doesn’t have any idea of how long, but the sun is still bright in the window when he opens his eyes so he doesn’t reckon it’s too long. He blinks up at Gwaine, drawing back so just the tip of Gwaine’s cock is in his mouth and licking into the slit at the tip.
“Stop, Merlin, stop,” Gwaine breathes, gripping at Merlin’s shoulders. “Too close, stop.”
Merlin pulls back, propping himself up on an elbow and letting his eyes stroke over Gwaine’s sweat-damp, heaving chest. Giving into impulse, he licks a line up across his stomach and chest, the salty tang mixing with Gwaine’s unique taste on his tongue.
Face buried in Gwaine’s neck, Merlin doesn’t notice Arthur moving until a wet heat lands on his lower back, tickling around a knob on his spine and making him squirm. Gwaine’s hands wrap around the nape of his neck, tugging slightly, and Merlin follows the lead, settling comfortable between Gwaine’s thighs, their lips lined up perfectly for sweetly drugging kisses.
The pressure on his back inches lower, and Merlin lets his thighs fall open in anticipation, wriggling slightly until his cock lines up against Gwaine’s. Gwaine rocks up against him gently, the hot slide on the sensitive skin of his cock knotting deep in the pit of Merlin’s stomach.
The slow rub distracts Merlin entirely from Arthur’s tongue until it circles his hole, sending a bolt of ecstasy right through his body. He pushes back instinctively, wanting more, but then Gwaine’s hips circle up again and he can’t help but thrust against them.
He’s caught, suspended between the two pleasures, his body at war with itself on what it wants more. Arthur licks deeper, Gwaine thrusts harder, and Merlin drifts blissfully, his back arching as tingles shoot through his veins, curling his toes and sparking at his fingertips.
He’s only vaguely aware of Arthur pulling away, saying something to Gwaine. There’s fumbling in the top drawer, and then the heat of Arthur’s tongue is replaced by a coolly slick finger.
“Cold!” he complains against Gwaine’s lips.
“Sorry,” Arthur mumbles insincerely against his shoulder. “Won’t happen again.”
It will, Merlin knows it will - Arthur seems to take a perverse pleasure in making him jump at the temperature - but when a second finger joins the first, he can’t bring himself to care.
He has to bite his lip to hold back from the edge when Arthur curls the tips of his fingers, brushing against that spot deep inside him that makes him see stars. “No more,” he mumbles, batting behind him at Arthur and trying to get his knees under him. “Now, please.”
He pulls Gwaine up with him until they’re kneeling together in the centre of the bed, bodies plastered together from thigh to shoulder. Sliding his hands down from Gwaine’s shoulder blades, he grips the firm arse cheeks he so loves to admire in tight jeans and pulls them tight together.
Arthur fumbles around behind him for a few seconds before he presses up against his back, hard cock sliding slickly against his hole.
He wriggles, frustrated. “Don’t tease, Arthur,” he mutters breathlessly. “Just, now.”
Arthur reaches around them and grants his wish, pushing in slowly, the familiar burning stretch nearly tipping Merlin over the edge.
They set up a slow rhythm, Merlin screwing back onto Arthur's cock and then forward, grinding against Gwaine’s. It can’t stay that way, and they gradually writhe together faster and faster, their wet kisses getting sloppier and less coordinated, as they chase release.
Merlin crashes over the edge first, every muscle in his body quivering as fireworks go off behind his closed eyelids. He’s still trembling in the aftershocks, not entirely aware, when Arthur and then Gwaine follow him over.
When he regains full consciousness, he’s sandwiched between Arthur and Gwaine, their heads sharing a single pillow. Arthur hands him a wet-wipe from the tube on the bedside table, and he cleans up quickly, his eyelids already starting to droop.
Gwaine hooks the duvet from the bottom of the bed with his foot, tugging it up over them and wrapping an arm around Merlin’s waist.
A lazy glance at the digital clock over Arthur’s shoulder tells him it’s still fairly early; dinner can wait for a while. Right now, with his lovers around him, he’s exactly where he wants to be.
-end-
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