I Am Gwen (the cutest cat on the Internet!) - Part 3
Title: I Am Gwen (the cutest cat on the Internet!)
Author: gwylliondream
Genre: Modern au
Pairing: Arthur/Merlin
Rating: NC-17
Words: 58,347
Author’s Notes: I Am Gwen was written for paperlegends and as a kinkme_merlin fill for this prompt.
Disclaimer: I did not create these characters. No disrespect intended. No profit desired, only muses.
Comments: Comments are welcome anytime! Thanks so much for reading!
“How about this one?” Gwaine asked, holding the dark blue shirt against Merlin’s chest.
Of course, Gwaine decided to act like a total girl once he found out that Arthur had asked Merlin to the game. He insisted that they knock off work early on Friday, so Merlin could prepare for the big event… with Gwaine’s help.
“No, no, no!” Merlin pushed the shirt away. He wrinkled his nose as if the large red number 24 was dripping with cat piss.
“Why not? You look nice in blue,” Gwaine said.
“Gwaine! Arthur will think I’m a total ass if I go to the game wearing that shirt. No self-respecting Sox fan would wear a Manny shirt. Not after what happened in ’08,” Merlin said, continuing to rummage through his bureau.
“I’m sure Arthur has no idea that Manny was traded to the Yankees,” Gwaine said.
“Don’t be stupid,” Merlin said, pulling a red shirt out of a drawer. “He was traded to the Dodgers… right before he was suspended for using steroids.”
“Ahhh… that must be what they meant by Manny being Manny,” Gwaine said, shaking his head.
“I need something safe, like this one,” Merlin said holding a red shirt with the number 19 emblazoned on the back.
“Beckett?” Gwaine asked.
“Reliable, honest, and trustworthy,” Merlin said.
Gwaine got busy ironing a pair of cargo shorts while Merlin jumped into the shower.
Merlin wasn’t normally particularly attentive to the state of his clothing, so he appreciated Gwaine’s offer to help him prepare for his date. Merlin worked the shampoo through his hair, regretting that he hadn’t taken the time to get a haircut during the week. He massaged a dollop of conditioner between his palms, hoping that it would help him tame the unruly mess.
In hindsight, it was probably too late to make a good impression on Arthur. The damage was already done. Showing up at the wrong address, behaving like a bumbling fool, intruding on clients’ personal matters… although none of these transgressions seemed to have dampened Arthur’s interest. Merlin considered himself lucky.
Merlin dried himself and wrapped the towel around his waist. He opened the bathroom door to let the steam escape and to allow some of the air-conditioning to flow into the bathroom.
“How are you doing out there?” he called to Gwaine.
Gwaine appeared in the doorway, holding a pair of neatly ironed shorts.
“Here you go, Your Highness,” Gwaine said with a flourish.
“Thanks,” Merlin said as he squirted a handful of shaving cream from the can.
“No, no, no!” Gwaine said. “You’re not going to shave!”
“Of course I am,” Merlin said, skimming his foamy hands over his cheeks and chin.
Gwaine made a sound like an animal hit by a car.
Merlin grimaced at him from beneath his mask of white. “Just because you like a scruffy face doesn’t mean every guy does,” Merlin said.
“Oh, so you think Arthur likes a smooth face?” Gwaine asked, before turning to put the iron away.
“I’ll admit I’ve thought about it, but it doesn’t really matter since my beard grows so fast. It’ll be back by tomorrow if I think he likes it,” Merlin said as he scraped the razor over his chin.
Gwaine whimpered a bit while stroking his own scruffy beard.
After Merlin finished shaving, he dressed himself to Gwaine’s specifications and endured a few more minutes of Gwaine primping his hair, which he promptly ruined by putting on a navy blue Red Sox cap. He checked his watch and insisted that Gwaine not accompany him to The Devonshire, a trip that would take all of ten minutes if he walked slowly. Instead, he charged Gwaine with tidying up his apartment before returning to his own a few blocks away.
“I’ll have this place looking immaculate… just in case you have an overnight guest,” Gwaine said with a wink.
Merlin smirked and stuffed his wallet in his pocket.
“It’s good to know that you have every confidence in me,” Merlin said.
“You have condoms?” Gwaine asked.
Merlin rolled his eyes.
“Ah, yes, the bike messenger’s rule number… number… I forget which one,” Gwaine said, snapping his fingers.
“Aren’t you thinking of be prepared?” Merlin asked.
“No, that’s not it,” Gwaine said. “I don’t think be prepared is a bike messenger’s rule.”
“I thought that condoms went under the category of safety first, fun second.” Merlin said.
“Maybe,” Gwaine said.
“Wish me luck, in any case,” Merlin replied, heading for the door.
“Wait, aren’t you going to bring your glove? You never know when a foul may come your way,” Gwaine said.
“Gwaine, I’m not eight years old, for God’s sake," Merlin said, shoving him out of his way.
“All right, get going then,” Gwaine said as Merlin stepped into the hall. “Go Sox! And you’d better text me when you get home.”
=^.^= )
Merlin was a bit surprised to see Arthur waiting for him in the lobby of The Devonshire.
As he walked to The Devonshire, Merlin had imagined himself riding to the fortieth floor of the building to greet Arthur for the first time as a date, and not as one of the many delivery people that Arthur undoubtedly had to deal with in his everyday life. He hoped Arthur might show him the rest of his apartment, maybe even give him a hug. That might have solidified Arthur’s intentions more firmly than sharing the free Sox tickets he had scored.
But it was not to be. Merlin shrugged off the fantasy as quickly as he could, and reset his expectations for the night ahead.
“You look like you’re ready to take the field,” Arthur said gesturing to Merlin’s Beckett shirt and the blue ball cap.
“I could say the same for you,” Merlin said brightly, taking in Arthur’s white home jersey with the retired team captain Varitek’s number 33 on the back. “I didn’t think you were a big enough fan to own a shirt.”
“Really? I thought it was some kind of state law that every Massachusetts resident must own at least one.” Arthur smiled and nodded to the doorman, “Taxi, please,” he said.
Merlin and Arthur let the doorman exit first to flag down a taxi.
“I figured we’d take a taxi so we’ll have plenty of time to find our seats and take a look around the ballpark. I hope you don’t mind,” Arthur said, his hand skating across the small of Merlin’s back as they stepped outside.
“No, not at all,” Merlin said, trying to control the feeling of butterflies in his stomach because of the touch of Arthur’s hand. “It’s been a long time since I’ve been to a game. It’ll be fun to see what’s going on around the park.”
The doorman signaled for a taxi and soon Merlin found himself in the backseat of the car with Arthur riding down the same city streets that Merlin pedaled every day. When the taxi turned onto Storrow Drive, Arthur let out a sneeze.
“Excuse me,” he said, digging into his pocket for a handkerchief.
“Bless you,” Merlin said. “Are you sure you’re not allergic to me?”
Arthur laughed and wiped his nose. “No, I’m quite sure I’m not. It’s this tree pollen or something,” Arthur said, waving his hand at the window where the trees lined the Esplanade. “I don’t know why. It starts acting up with me at the end of every summer.”
Merlin played with the strap to his seatbelt. “Are you allergic to other things, as well?” he asked.
“No, not that I know of,” Arthur said, crumpling his handkerchief back into his pocket. “Like what?”
“Well, like cats, for example,” Merlin said, looking out the window. “Most people aren’t allergic to only one thing. There’s usually lots of things they are allergic to-certain animals, for example.”
“I think I’d know if I was allergic to cats,” Arthur said, eyeing Merlin suspiciously for a moment. “Are you trying to tell me that you’re covered in cat fur or something?”
“No, I but I visited the MSPCA recently and I suppose I could have some cat juju lingering around me,” Merlin said, wiggling his fingers in the air.
After a few moments passed, Arthur said, “You’re a bit strange, Merlin.”
Merlin only laughed.
When the taxi dropped them off on the corner of Lansdowne Street, Arthur was quick to draw a bill from his wallet. Merlin made a mental note to take care of the next fare.
As the taxi drove off, Merlin felt free to experience the magical atmosphere that was Fenway. The vibe on the street was almost as dizzying as the thought of spending time with Arthur at his side. He and Arthur walked down the crowded street that bordered the historic park.
Lansdowne Street was closed to vehicular traffic, but open to pedestrians and vendors. The smell of grilled sausages and popcorn filled the air. A long line of hopeful fans waited at the box office window, trying their luck at getting tickets for the game. A certain number of game-day tickets were always held back so that fans could get a standing-room only spot if they showed up early enough at the park. Most fans walked away disappointed. Merlin was glad he didn’t need to worry about getting into the game today.
Arthur was a few steps ahead when Merlin paused to watch a group of amateur musicians beat out a rhythm on a dozen overturned plastic buckets. It was only for a moment, and soon Merlin heard Arthur calling his name. He looked up to see him gesturing wildly from the short section of chain link fence that separated left field from the street.
“Merlin, come look,” Arthur said.
Merlin jogged over to where Arthur stood and peered through the fence. The Red Sox had just finished their warm-up and were crossing the field on their way to the clubhouse. Merlin excitedly pressed his face against the fence, his hands laced through the warm metal of the chain link.
“Big Papi!” a young boy yelled from behind Merlin. Soon a throng of fans had gathered at the fence to watch their heroes walk by. As the crowd grew thicker, Merlin and Arthur were nudged closer together by the encroaching fans. Merlin didn’t mind a bit that the strangers invaded so much of his personal space. Instead, he grinned like a little kid as he caught sight of all his favorite players. It didn’t hurt a bit that he was squashed next to Arthur. He took time to enjoy the solid feel of Arthur pressed against him. He could smell the scent of Arthur’s shampoo as their heads inclined together to get a final glimpse of the players before they disappeared from the field.
When the crowd dispersed, they made their way to the park’s entrance. Arthur dug the tickets out of his wallet and handed one to Merlin. After getting a quick pat-down by security, they passed through the turnstiles and stepped onto the concourse.
“You must be starving,” Arthur said. “Do you want to grab a bite now, or wait until the game starts?”
Merlin took a quick look down the concourse toward the concessions that featured everything from overpriced beer to spinach and artichoke dip.
“No, I can wait. Besides, Gwaine made me eat a Powerbar before I left my apartment,” Merlin said.
“I see,” Arthur said, as they began to walk with the flow of other fans who wandered around the passageway that encircled the field. “And who is this Gwaine… your boyfriend?”
“Oh, no,” Merlin said, trying to keep the blush from coloring his cheeks. “He’s a friend… and a co-worker. Not a boyfriend at all.”
“Oh, so he’s a messenger as well?” Arthur asked.
“Yes, one of the finest. And your place is on his regular route,” Merlin said.
“Is that so?” Arthur asked. “You’d think I’d have seen him by now.”
“He does a great job. If you still think I’m incompetent, maybe you’d like me to arrange for Gwaine to deliver your documents from now on?” Merlin asked with a grin, hoping that Arthur would soundly refuse the offer.
Arthur rolled his eyes. “I’ll take your word for it that he’s good,” he said, squeezing the back of Merlin’s neck. “But I think I’ll keep you on. Perhaps if you work on your skills handling my documents, you’ll be able to measure up to your friend’s caliber someday.”
“You should be so lucky,” Merlin said, giving Arthur’s shoulder a friendly shove.
Beneath the stadium, dozens of vendors displayed every bit of Red Sox merchandise available. There were T-shirts and Bobble-heads, keychains and lingerie, anything conceivable as long as it featured the team’s logo.
“Hey, check it out,” Merlin said, sliding his hand over a small cat collar, woven with the Red Sox’s trademark B. “My cat would love this.”
Merlin shook the collar so the tiny silver bell jingled and Arthur’s brow furrowed. “Hey, we should go find our seats,” Arthur said, drawing Merlin’s attention away from the merchandise.
“Oh, sure, what section are they in?” Merlin asked while digging into his pocket for the ticket.
“Twelve,” said Arthur, who had retrieved his ticket from his pocket faster than Merlin.
As Merlin passed each entryway into the stadium, he gazed through the openings, like giant keyholes that allowed him to spy into the stands. It seemed almost surreal to see the park lit so brightly by thousands of fluorescent lights, despite the late afternoon sun. A hazy cloud hung over the field, as if each atom that once sat as dew on the grass was summoned upward by the combination of the summer sun and the high-tech lighting.
Merlin and Arthur walked to the entryway closest to their seats. Merlin couldn’t help being excited as he climbed the steps and entered the park. The light was blinding and there were too many people moving around for him to be able to concentrate on one thing.
“Over here,” Arthur said, tugging Merlin’s shirtsleeve.
Merlin followed Arthur as he located their seats, which looked directly over the first base line.
“Great seats,” Merlin said when they were settled comfortably.
“Yeah,” said Arthur. “My father’s friend, Geoffrey, gave them to me. To be honest, I think my father’s old friends feel sorry for me and they’re showing their sympathy by giving me things. Do you know what I mean?”
“I think so. I suppose it’s only natural that they want to reach out and do what they can to show that they care about their friend’s son,” Merlin said.
“And Sox tickets are always appreciated. Who in their right mind could turn this down?” Arthur asked as he gestured toward the field. The stands had started to fill up while they sat and talked.
“Did you get along with him well? Your father?” Merlin asked.
Arthur grew tight-lipped as he presumably thought of an appropriate answer.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to pry,” Merlin said.
“I suppose it’s not right to be rejoicing over great seats when my father is dead,” Arthur said.
“I didn’t mean-” Merlin began.
“My mother died when I was an infant, so my father has always been my only family,” Arthur said resolutely.
“What about Morgana?” Merlin asked.
“My half-sister, actually… proven by a paternity test when I was away in college,” Arthur said.
“Oh,” Merlin said. “I hadn’t realized.”
“It sounds like something you’d see on Jerry Springer, doesn’t it?” Arthur laughed.
“I’m sure that took some sorting out between you and your father,” Merlin said.
“It did,” Arthur nodded. “We didn’t always see eye to eye, despite the fact that he raised me. When he first took ill, a couple years ago, I moved back here from New York. I stayed in his apartment when he was hospitalized, but I never thought that he wouldn’t be returning.”
“So it’s his apartment you’re living in at The Devonshire?” Merlin asked.
“I’ve been there for two years, come September,” Arthur said.
“Oh, so he was hospitalized since then?” Merlin asked.
“I had been between jobs in New York when I came to visit him for week. While I was here, he suffered a stroke,” Arthur said, averting his eyes to a stray thread at the hem of his shorts.
“I’m sorry to hear that,” Merlin said.
“At first the doctors weren’t certain to what degree he would recover,” Arthur said. “But as time went on, the outlook became increasingly grim.”
A pair of middle-aged women stopped at the row of seats Merlin and Arthur were sitting in. They indicated that this was their row, as well. The men stood to make room for the women to squeeze past them to find their seats at the end of the row.
“So you never went back to New York?” Merlin asked, when they were seated again, wondering gently what role an absent boyfriend might play in his future.
“No, I stayed here to be close to my father, in case his health took a turn for the better-or worse. Besides, I had no concrete job to go back to, so I packed my things up and moved them into my father’s apartment,” Arthur said.
“Oh, what kind of work did you do in New York?” Merlin asked, trying to find his way to a more comfortable emotional ground.
“Video engineering,” Arthur said brightly.
Merlin’s eyes went to the broadcast booth where Jerry and Don called the game. “I’m not sure what that is,” Merlin said. “Did you work for a TV station?”
“No, nothing quite so lucrative,” Arthur said. “I worked for myself. People would hire me to set up the recording of live events. Mostly boring stuff like City Council meetings and press conferences. Sometimes, I’d get an offer to do a wedding, if I was lucky.”
“That sounds like fun,” Merlin said. “My mother is getting married this winter. Maybe I can put in a good word for you if you need the work.”
Arthur laughed at that. “I’m afraid I haven’t been able to think about getting my business off the ground in Boston. Maybe that will be just the push I need to get my ass in gear.”
“Have you been doing anything for work?” Merlin asked. “I mean, besides studying to be a bicycle messenger, picking my brain for all the best tricks of the trade.”
“I’m tempted to say that I’ve been running my father’s company, although that would be a gross overstatement, since it pretty much runs itself,” Arthur said.
“Now, see, I knew you had to be doing something all day besides fighting with Morgana,” Merlin said. “What kind of business did he do? He must have been successful to live in that beautiful high-rise.”
“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you,” Arthur said.
“Oh, come on,” Merlin said.
A puff of breath escaped from Arthur’s lips. “He manufactured rabies poles. Those catch-pole things that you see Animal Control officers using on animals that need to be restrained.”
Merlin nearly choked with laughter. “That’s actually pretty funny.”
“I know,” Arthur said. “He bought the company when he was a young man. They make the poles and ship them from a factory in California. It’s the only place in the world that makes them, and it’s the only thing they make.”
“Nice. I’m surprised your father didn’t live out there where it’s sunny,” Merlin said.
“Oh, no,” Arthur said. “He was born in Boston and he loved it here. Besides, the company pretty much ran itself. He just had to sit back and collect a paycheck. Not bad for a couple hours of work per week.”
“And now the company’s ownership is at stake?” Merlin asked.
“Just one of the things Morgana is trying to claim for her own from my father’s estate, along with the apartment,” Arthur said.
“If you lose the apartment, do you think you’ll want to move back to New York?” Merlin asked. “Or maybe move to California to keep an eye on things if you get to keep the company?”
“I love Boston. I’d love to stay here, but I really have no idea if my differences with Morgana will ever be resolved. I worry about losing the things that are most important to me-the things she’s threatening to take away,” Arthur said, turning to Merlin. “I’d like to try to forget about it tonight.”
“I’m sorry,” Merlin said. “It must be very difficult. I’ve seen how many documents you two have shuttling back and forth. It can’t be easy.”
Merlin wondered if it was too much for him to expect Arthur to speak about his legal woes. Perhaps when Arthur was ready to share, Merlin would listen, but until then, the affairs of the elder Pendragon’s estate were something that Merlin would wait for Arthur to broach with him. Although Arthur was shaping up to be a perfect date for his mother’s wedding, Merlin was ever-cautious about playing his cards right. He didn’t want to give Arthur the impression that he was some kind of gay gold-digger.
“I suppose we Pendragons are keeping Kilgharrah Kourier in business these days, and I suspect we will be for a long while,” Arthur said.
“I won’t complain about the job security,” Merlin grinned, pleased that Arthur allowed him an opening to change the subject.
Merlin was so busy thinking about something interesting to say that he couldn’t have anticipated what happened next.
Arthur let his fingertips trail across the back of Merlin’s hand. “To think,” Arthur said, leaning close to Merlin so he could whisper in his ear, “that I was simply going to let you in my door, hand you some documents, and send you on your way.”
Merlin felt the tips of his ears burn with Arthur’s flirtatious tone. He was relieved that he didn’t have to think of what to say next because the announcer’s voice boomed over the loudspeakers, welcoming the fans to the park. After several rounds of applause for the players, the singing of the national anthem and the equally revered “Play Ball,” the fans became quiet enough for Merlin to hear the beating of his heart again.
“Should we grab a bite now, before things get too exciting,” Merlin asked.
“I suppose that’s a good idea,” Arthur said, patting his stomach as if he was starving.
“I’ve got it,” Merlin said placing his hand on Arthur’s shoulder. “You can stay here and I’ll go make a food run. What would you like?”
After memorizing Arthur’s request for a sausage sub with grilled onions, but no peppers, a single ribbon of mustard across the top, and a Sam Adams draft, Merlin decided to make things easy by just ordering the same thing when he got to the concession stand. Sure, he was mainly a vegetarian, but this was Fenway, and a sausage sub was mandatory.
Merlin smiled the whole time he was in line, thinking about the soft tickle of Arthur’s breath in his ear. He also took it as a positive sign that Arthur seemed somewhat willing to talk about his father’s death and the legal battle for which there seemed to be no end in sight. Still, Merlin wanted to keep the conversation light and not overburden Arthur or himself with the concerns of the day. Besides, Arthur was bloody gorgeous under the ballpark lights and Merlin had little chance of paying attention to anything else. Merlin’s inability to focus on anything other than Arthur became even more obvious when he lost his footing and nearly tumbled down the flight of stairs as he returned to their seats. Fortunately, he caught himself at the last moment, only spilling a few drops of beer from the plastic cups. Arthur, who had witnessed the slip while looking forward to Merlin’s return, simply grinned and shook his head.
By the time Merlin reached Arthur with the food and drinks intact, Verlander had already struck out two and had a full count against Gonzalez.
“Are you always so graceful?” Arthur asked, softly chuckling.
Merlin handed Arthur his sausage and plunked down into his seat again, resting his feet on the crossbar of the seat in front of him.
“You weren’t supposed to see that,” Merlin said confidently. He tried to contain his smile while he checked the pitch count between bites of sausage.
More than once, Merlin caught Arthur watching him as the game progressed. Arthur seemed to eat his sausage as unobtrusively as possible, while Merlin took long licks at the dripping juices from the sweet onions and had to wipe his chin with a napkin from the stack he had brought from the concession stand.
Merlin finished shoving the last of his sub into his mouth amid the cheering and clapping as Big Papi drove in a two-run single in the bottom of the third. He and Arthur, like the other Fenway faithful, got to their feet to cheer for the home team.
When the cheering ended, they sat back down in their seats. Merlin was busy checking the scoreboard when he felt Arthur’s thumb brush corner of his mouth. He felt his heart beat faster as he wondered what Arthur meant by touching him in front of everyone in the stadium. It was as if Merlin was the focal point of the universe and everyone knew that Arthur Pendragon was touching his lips. Merlin could barely breathe.
“You’ve got some mustard there,” Arthur said.
“Oh,” Merlin said, startled. He reached for another napkin and made a few passes across him mouth with it before asking, “Better?”
Arthur looked at Merlin’s lips again and deemed them clean. Merlin’s face grew hot at the thought of Arthur inspecting him. He felt Arthur’s sparkling blue eyes scanning his face appreciatively. He even dared to make some eye contact at close range, and basked in the same warm feeling he felt for Arthur reflected back to him in Arthur’s eyes.
When their attention drifted from each other, they settled into the rhythm of the game, side by side, both cheering for the Sox when they got a hit. With Verlander on the mound, they didn’t come too easily.
As silly as it was, Merlin couldn’t help but be enthused that he was attending a game where the opponent’s team name evoked the sleek jungle cats that roamed the African continent far from Fenway. The feline beasts were never far from Merlin’s heart, even if they came in the form of Justin Verlander and his 4-seam fastball.
“Do you like cats?” Merlin asked off the cuff. He couldn’t remember whether he had actually asked Arthur if he liked them.
Arthur suddenly choked on the mouthful of beer he had been swallowing at the time, gasping and spewing the amber liquid from his nose. Merlin was surprised to see Arthur do something so undignified. While Arthur fumbled amongst their trash for a clean napkin to cover his mouth, Merlin wondered whether he should pound on Arthur’s back to help him breathe properly.
“Why?” Arthur fought to regain his breath. “Why do you ask?”
“I was just wondering, from when we were talking about allergies on the ride here,” Merlin said, pleased that Arthur seemed to have recovered. “Have you ever seen that cat Gwen from YouTube?”
Arthur’s coughing fit seemed to begin again, although he hadn’t taken another sip of beer.
“I may have seen her once or twice,” Arthur said.
“She’s gone absolutely viral,” Merlin said. “Especially since her book came out-‘I Am Gwen.’ That kind of says it all.”
“I guess so,” Arthur said, dabbing his face with a napkin.
“You know,” Merlin said, leaning close so no one could overhear. “Most people think bike messengers are total hipsters, but I’d watch that frigging cat jump into a box all day long if I could.”
Arthur exhaled shakily. “Yeah… a cat jumping into a box is pretty entertaining.”
Merlin decided not to pursue the cat conversation any further with Arthur since it seemed to bring out strange behavior. Instead, he sat back to enjoy the game.
Lester had given up two walks in the bottom of the sixth when Fielder stood at the plate. The first pitch was a hard fastball, inside.
Ball 1.
The second pitch, a curveball, down and away.
Ball 2.
The third pitch was a two-seam fastball middle away, which Fielder tattooed into the stands.
Arthur never saw the ball coming.
Merlin had seen Arthur’s attention drift to the beautiful sunset that streaked the sky with color above third base while Fielder was at bat. Although he was only one hundred feet from home plate, Arthur had no way of knowing the ball heading in his direction.
Time seemed to slow as Merlin shifted in his seat. His feet left the crossbar where they were resting even before the ball left the interior of the field. Merlin planted his left foot on the concrete floor in front of him as the ball cleared the first rows of fans. With both hands, he grabbed Arthur by his shirt, the fabric bunching beneath his fingers.
Merlin’s eyes never left the ball.
The umpire cried, “Foul!”
Later, Merlin would swear that he could make out each stitch of the ball as it rocketed toward Arthur's head.
Merlin pulled.
A look of confusion passed over Arthur’s face when he was hauled forward just before the ball hit the back of his seat. The sharp snap of leather splintering the wooden seatback rang through the park. Arthur freed himself from Merlin’s grip and the park exploded with cheers.
Back at home plate, Fielder shook his head, as if apologizing.
Someone handed Merlin the ball, which had spun off the seatback and landed in the hands of a fan behind him. By then, Arthur had finally recognized what had nearly happened to him.
“You saved his life,” a fan shouted, slapping Merlin on the back.
Arthur looked like a fish out of water, his eyes open wide as he gasped for breath.
“Good job,” another fan said, adding to Merlin’s feeling of pride.
“Thanks, Merlin,” Arthur finally uttered when he got his bearings.
“They’ll need to repair this in the morning,” Merlin said, letting his fingers tentatively examine the splintered seatback.
“I’m lucky that wasn’t my head,” Arthur said, stating the obvious.
“This belongs to you,” Merlin said, tossing the ball up and down in one hand. “Keep it for a souvenir.”
“Thanks… I think,” Arthur said. “Shouldn’t you bring a glove next time?”
“I thought about bringing mine, but it seemed silly at the time. Only little kids brought gloves to the game,” Merlin said, lowering his gaze.
“No one would mind. You’re a big kid, anyway, so you could get away with it,” Arthur said as he examined the ball, rotating it with his fingers, in a motion that seemed strangely familiar to Merlin.
“Alright, maybe I will,” Merlin said, pleased that Arthur was talking about there being a next time, even though he almost lost his life to a foul ball.
“That would be adorable,” Arthur said.
“What’s that?” Merlin asked, distracted by the thought of Arthur’s hands.
“You,” Arthur said.
“Me?” Merlin answered.
“You, bringing your glove to the park to try to snag a foul ball. That would be adorable. As if you’re not adorable enough already,” Arthur said, the blush in his cheeks barely noticeable. “Thanks for saving my life.”
Merlin couldn’t have been more pleased with how their date was going. He tried not to read too much into it. It was early in their friendship and after only one meeting that wasn’t business related, so he didn’t want to get his hopes up. He sank back into his seat and tried to enjoy the game as much as he enjoyed sitting beside Arthur.
Sometime in the next inning, a park official stopped by to inspect the back of Arthur’s chair. When the official determined that Arthur hadn’t suffered any real trauma, other than acquiring a new appreciation for paying attention when a batter was at the dish, he offered Arthur some vouchers for free food and drink at the concessions. Merlin took this opportunity to load both of them up with boxes of Cracker Jack and a large bag of roasted peanuts.
After another round of beer, along with a pair of hot pretzels, Arthur seemed to relax as thoroughly as possible for someone who was nearly killed by a foul ball. The score was 2-2 when Jackson made the last out in the top of the eighth. Merlin thought that was as good a time as any to get up out of his seat and make a trip to the men’s room before they had to trek home, but Arthur had other ideas.
“You can’t leave now,” Arthur insisted as the music began to play.
Merlin didn’t quite understand. “It’s just a song,” he laughed. “It’s no big deal.”
Arthur looked affronted. “Listen, Merlin, I may have lived in New York for a few years,” Arthur said, making sure to whisper the name of his city in order to avoid inciting a riot among the Boston fans, “but I grew up watching the Sox. There’s no way you can leave me during Sweet Caroline.”
Merlin thought Arthur was being silly. This was the perfect time to leave his seat. There would be no line for the men’s room, not with the familiar strains of Neil Diamond’s voice over the loudspeakers.
“Where it began… I can’t begin to know when… but then I know it’s growing strong,” Arthur sang along with the crowd.
Merlin could only laugh at Arthur when he took his hand and swung their arms in the air.
“Was it the spring… and spring became the summer… who'd believe you'd come along,” Arthur sang with a tipsy grin.
“Haaaaaaands,” the noise in the stadium was deafening.
“Touching hands…”
“Reaching out… “
“Touching me… touching you,” Arthur-and the 37,493 other fans in the park-sang.
Merlin could no longer resist Arthur’s antics, so he joined in, “Sweet Caroline, bah, bah, bah… Good times never seemed so good. So good! So GOOD! SO GOOD!”
“I've been inclined, bah, bah, bah… to believe it never would….”
Merlin had been keenly aware of the Kiss-Cam that lingered on couples, their faces projected onto the giant screens that flanked the Green Monster. As Sweet Caroline played, the camera scanned around the park, seeking out potential subjects who would rouse the crowd by kissing onscreen. Some couples smiled and kissed. Some couples laughed and avoided kissing. Shouts went up from the crowd whenever the camera loomed near. Before long, the camera headed Merlin’s way, focusing on Arthur as he sang. After a slight adjustment to the focus, Merlin saw himself in the frame with Arthur, splashed over the Jumbotron. Arthur was still fully engaged in singing, but when he finally noticed the shouts of the crowd around him and Merlin, he looked up to see his face on camera and got a clue as to what was happening.
Merlin tried to smile, biting his lip the whole while. He would hate to feel as if Arthur had been forced to kiss him. When he was all but certain that Arthur was simply going to ignore the Kiss-Cam, instead he slung an arm around Merlin’s neck and pulled his head in close. Merlin tried to squirm away, but before he could, Arthur playfully rubbed his knuckles onto Merlin’s head. The fans around them burst into laughter and the camera moved on to find some other potential kissers.
Merlin was a bit relieved. Although Boston was a gay-friendly city, he didn’t want to push his luck with Arthur. Things were going well between them and the night wasn’t quite over yet.
At the top of the ninth inning, the Sox were up 3-2 and Bard was well on his way to striking out Boesch for the win when he got a base hit. With the tying run on first, everyone in the park stood and held their breath while Cabrera came to the plate.
“Every game I’ve ever been to ends this way,” Merlin said, covering his eyes.
“We’ll still have last ups,” Arthur said hopefully, letting his hand rest between Merlin’s shoulder blades.
It was all Merlin could do to concentrate on the pitcher, hoping that the game wasn’t sent into extra innings. He wanted Arthur, alone, and all to himself, right now. He had saved Arthur’s life. He was sure that he could think of a way for Arthur to repay him if he put his mind to it, but he needed the game to end now.
“I can’t watch,” Merlin said as the pitch crossed the plate.
When he next opened his eyes, the crowd erupted into cheers because Cabrera had grounded into a 6-4-3 double play.
“Woohoo!” Merlin yelled along with the crowd, throwing his hands in the air.
“Nothing like a close game to make it all worthwhile,” Arthur said as he wildly applauded.
The screaming fans began to shift to leave the stadium. Although there was a little unintentional pushing and shoving, the crowd fell into line one behind the other as they funneled toward the exits. There was no escape from the sea of humanity as people inched through the passageways beneath the stands. Merlin was reassured by the grip of Arthur’s hand on his shoulder that they would soon be outside again.
When the fans filtered onto Lansdowne Street, they moved a little faster, but everyone was headed in the same direction, hooting and hollering about the win.
“We’ll never get a taxi in this mess,” Arthur said.
“We could just take the T,” Merlin said. Even Arthur wouldn’t be pretentious enough to avoid the city’s subway system all the time. “Come on, I’ll buy.”
“Sounds good,” Arthur said, taking Merlin’s hand.
Merlin glanced down at his hand as it fitted into Arthur’s. He felt a flutter of joy in his chest. Arthur seemed to have no qualms about showing affection, and Merlin hoped it was a sign of where the night would lead.
The pair hurried with the flow of fans down Brookline Avenue toward the Kenmore T stop where the line of people waiting to board the train already spilled out onto Commonwealth Avenue.
“May as well get in line,” Arthur said, letting go of Merlin’s hand so he could walk through the narrow entrance in front of him.
Merlin fumbled for his wallet and got out his Charlie Card in anticipation of the line moving forward. He didn’t mind the crowded conditions or the feel of Arthur’s chest pressed against his back, Arthur’s hands wandering with affection to his shoulders, his waist, his hips.
At the turnstile, Merlin tapped the card to the sensor. When he got the green light, he handed the card to Arthur so he could do the same. They then followed the flow of the crowd onto the platform where they awaited the next train.
They had to be careful not to get too close to the edge of the platform as more fans pushed through the turnstiles and joined the wait for a ride home. Before too long, the rumble of the train shook the ground as it rolled into the station.
The doors slid open and people clambered aboard until they were stuffed into the car like sardines. Since there were no empty seats, Merlin reached up with both hands to grab the bar that ran the length of the train car so he could steady himself for the ride. Arthur was standing right in front of him with no place to hang onto. When the train jolted out of the station, Arthur jerked forward and stopped himself from falling by grabbing Merlin by the waist. Merlin gasped. The air was heavy with the scent of the city, the odor of newsprint and bio-fuel. Arthur’s fingers didn’t grip enough to hurt, but just enough for Merlin to know that they were there digging into the waistband of his cargo shorts.
“Well, hello,” Merlin said seductively, so only Arthur could hear him, his words mostly drowned out by the rush of the train along the tracks.
“Hello there,” Arthur murmured. “Do you come here often?”
Merlin felt himself blush every shade of red, and he didn’t care whether Arthur noticed or not.
“Hynes,” the robotic voice announced over the loudspeaker as the train came to a halt at the station.
No one moved when the doors opened.
Arthur let go of Merlin for a moment so he could adjust his footing. Merlin stretched his long fingers and re-gripped the bar. Fortunately, he was tall enough that the reach didn’t bother him.
The doors closed and the sway of the train car flung Arthur into Merlin again. Arthur’s arms slipped around Merlin’s waist to steady himself as the train’s wheels clattered along the tracks, through tunnels, and over bridges. Copley, Arlington, Park Plaza, the stops went by without many passengers leaving the train. If anything, they were packed more tightly than they were when they boarded the train at Kenmore.
“Where do you get off, Merlin?” Arthur whispered the words into Merlin’s ear, his tone leaving nothing to innuendo when they approached the Government Center stop.
Merlin swallowed hard. He felt as if a bolt of lightning had shot straight from his ear to his cock. His mind was racing with what might happen that night. Maybe Arthur would invite him to his place, or maybe they’d find themselves back at Merlin’s. He hoped to God that Gwaine cleaned his apartment up a bit.
“I usually ride the Red Line to Downtown Crossing,” Merlin said, noncommittal.
Arthur nodded. “Then you’ll need to get off at Government Center with me, because you just missed your connection for the Red Line.”
“Like Charlie on the MTA,” Merlin said, lowering his lashes. “I can ride the T all day without ever getting off… but what fun would that be?”
When the train pulled into Government Center, it seemed like everyone onboard breathed a sigh of relief that they would be exiting.
The whoosh of pneumatics signaled the door’s opening and people began to pile out of the train. Suddenly Merlin had more breathing room. Before he knew it, he and Arthur were tumbling out the train door and heading for the escalator. Merlin was about to step onto the escalator to the street level at Scollay Square, but Arthur had other ideas.
“Come on,” Arthur said, tugging Merlin’s hand. “Let’s go for a ride.”
Merlin was thrilled to follow as Arthur led them downstairs to the Blue Line. Nearly all the people who had been on the Green Line train from Kenmore were assembled there, waiting for the train to the parking lots in the northern suburbs where five dollars bought them a parking space for the night as opposed to the fifty dollars or more to park in Beantown.
Mercifully, the Blue Line train rolled into the station as Merlin and Arthur reached the bottom of the stairs and they were able to squeeze through the doors before they closed, despite the T official promising that another less-crowded train was on its way into the station.
Merlin found himself in the same position that he had adopted on the Green Line train from Kenmore, arms above his head, holding onto the bar so he wouldn’t lose his balance. When the train sped out of the station, it was so crowded that no one would have noticed or even cared that Arthur’s arms found their way around Merlin’s waist again, his fingers splayed across the small of his back, his thumbs pressing into the soft flesh beneath his shirt.
“State Street,” the robotic voice chimed when the train braked to a halt.
“That’s your stop,” Merlin said knowingly. He had been to The Devonshire enough times to know which station Arthur would use, if he ever needed to ride the T. Merlin’s hips hitched involuntarily. “Do you want to keep riding?”
Arthur made no movement to exit the train. Instead, he shifted so that one of his legs slotted between Merlin’s. “You can get back to Downtown Crossing from here, too,” he said. “If you want-”
“I don’t know if I want to go home just yet. This is kind of cozy,” Merlin said as the doors closed and the train sped down the tracks again.
Aquarium…
Maverick…
Airport…
More riders exited the train at each stop. No passengers boarded, but Merlin and Arthur remained as they were, Arthur’s hands braced on Merlin’s hips, while Merlin held the overhead bar for balance.
Wood Island…
Orient Heights…
Rolling beneath the city, the train rumbled to the rhythm of their hips as they slipped against each other with every twist of the tracks. By the time they reached the northern extremities of the Blue Line, only the two of them remained in the car. Arthur hitched his chin over Merlin’s shoulder and Merlin shivered at the feel of his breath against his neck before the train took off again.
To Merlin’s dismay, a drunk from the racetrack got onboard when they pulled into Suffolk Downs. He was an old man with a cane, who emptied his pockets of losing race stubs, scattering them on the floor before making his sad journey home.
“Get a room,” he muttered, halfway to himself, while Merlin let go of his bar with one hand and made a show of massaging the baseball that Arthur had wedged into his back pocket.
At Beachmont Station, the drunk stumbled out the train door.
Alone again, they careened toward Revere Beach and on to Wonderland, where the train would change direction to head toward the city again.
Merlin felt Arthur’s hands shift to the small of his back, his thumbs sliding beneath the waist of his shorts. The squeal of metal on metal sounded from the rails. Merlin’s breath caught in his throat when Arthur’s fingers traced circles on the hairless skin of his torso. He watched Arthur’s eyes, half-closed while he swayed to the motion of the train. There was no mistaking the pressure of his hard cock digging into Merlin’s thigh.
“This is what I wanted to do since the first moment I saw you,” Arthur said.
Merlin gripped the bar more tightly. He felt Arthur’s lips brush his, and suddenly they were kissing.
Arthur’s lips were as soft as Merlin had imagined they would be. He moaned a little as his lips parted to the sweep of Arthur’s tongue, allowing him in. Arthur’s eyes drifted shut, the last thing Merlin saw before he closed his eyes.
Merlin couldn’t really say he was surprised by Arthur kissing him. They had been flirting with each other since long before the foul ball nearly took Arthur’s head off. He squeezed his eyes shut and hummed softly. He supposed if he thought about it, Arthur tasted of Italian sausage, Vidalia onions, and overpriced beer. He suspected that he tasted the same.
He barely noticed when the train pulled into Revere Beach station. The doors opened and with no passengers waiting to board at this time of night, they swiftly closed again.
Merlin could feel Arthur’s heart hammering where their chests met. He pulled back a little to breathe, their mouths separating while their noses still touched.
“Was that before or after I dropped my helmet on your floor?” Merlin asked.
“Shut up, Merlin,” Arthur whispered before he kissed a path along Merlin’s jaw. “I didn’t want the first time I kissed you to be in front of that stupid Kiss-Cam or any of those people at the park. I didn’t want them to ruin it for us.”
“Fat chance of that happening,” Merlin said before finding Arthur’s earlobe and drawing it into his mouth.
Beachmont…
Orient Heights…
Wood Island…
Merlin loved to kiss. When Arthur lowered his head to bite gently at Merlin’s throat, Merlin coaxed Arthur’s lips back to his after catching his breath. To hell with his bee-stung lips, he thought as he let Arthur suck his bottom lip between his. He hoped the burn would last all weekend.
Airport…
Maverick…
Aquarium…
“Arthur?” Merlin gasped between kisses. “Arthur, your stop is coming up.” Merlin hoped that by drawing Arthur’s attention to the upcoming State Street stop, he would be invited to join Arthur at The Devonshire.
“I know,” Arthur said, running his knuckles along Merlin’s cheek.
“If you’d like, we can change to the Orange Line. It’s only one more stop to mine,” Merlin said, letting go of the bar with one hand to wrap it behind Arthur’s neck. “I’m sorry I haven’t had the chance to clean up, and it’s really small and less extravagant than yours, and I’ll have to hide all my ‘I Am Gwen’ stuff from you, so you don’t think I’m a complete lunatic-”
“I’ve got to get back to my apartment,” Arthur said, pulling away abruptly.
“State Street,” the robotic voice announced.
Merlin raised his eyes hopefully as the train slowed.
“I need to get back to my own apartment tonight,” Arthur said, nodding resolutely, as if the past fifteen minutes of kissing on the train had never happened.
The doors whooshed open and Arthur stepped backward, letting go of Merlin’s hands. Merlin reached for him like a drowning man reaching for a life preserver. Arthur felt for the doorframe and stepped off the train.
Merlin watched him, even after the doors shut. Arthur turned away and headed for the stairs that would take him to street level.
When the train began to move, Merlin sat down. He folded his arms across his chest, feeling the ache from having held his arms over his head for so long. He chanced a glimpse around the vacant subway car through the sudden tears in his eyes. Grateful that no one was there to see him, he decided he could walk the distance home from Government Center.
=^.^= )
Author: gwylliondream
Genre: Modern au
Pairing: Arthur/Merlin
Rating: NC-17
Words: 58,347
Author’s Notes: I Am Gwen was written for paperlegends and as a kinkme_merlin fill for this prompt.
Disclaimer: I did not create these characters. No disrespect intended. No profit desired, only muses.
Comments: Comments are welcome anytime! Thanks so much for reading!
“How about this one?” Gwaine asked, holding the dark blue shirt against Merlin’s chest.
Of course, Gwaine decided to act like a total girl once he found out that Arthur had asked Merlin to the game. He insisted that they knock off work early on Friday, so Merlin could prepare for the big event… with Gwaine’s help.
“No, no, no!” Merlin pushed the shirt away. He wrinkled his nose as if the large red number 24 was dripping with cat piss.
“Why not? You look nice in blue,” Gwaine said.
“Gwaine! Arthur will think I’m a total ass if I go to the game wearing that shirt. No self-respecting Sox fan would wear a Manny shirt. Not after what happened in ’08,” Merlin said, continuing to rummage through his bureau.
“I’m sure Arthur has no idea that Manny was traded to the Yankees,” Gwaine said.
“Don’t be stupid,” Merlin said, pulling a red shirt out of a drawer. “He was traded to the Dodgers… right before he was suspended for using steroids.”
“Ahhh… that must be what they meant by Manny being Manny,” Gwaine said, shaking his head.
“I need something safe, like this one,” Merlin said holding a red shirt with the number 19 emblazoned on the back.
“Beckett?” Gwaine asked.
“Reliable, honest, and trustworthy,” Merlin said.
Gwaine got busy ironing a pair of cargo shorts while Merlin jumped into the shower.
Merlin wasn’t normally particularly attentive to the state of his clothing, so he appreciated Gwaine’s offer to help him prepare for his date. Merlin worked the shampoo through his hair, regretting that he hadn’t taken the time to get a haircut during the week. He massaged a dollop of conditioner between his palms, hoping that it would help him tame the unruly mess.
In hindsight, it was probably too late to make a good impression on Arthur. The damage was already done. Showing up at the wrong address, behaving like a bumbling fool, intruding on clients’ personal matters… although none of these transgressions seemed to have dampened Arthur’s interest. Merlin considered himself lucky.
Merlin dried himself and wrapped the towel around his waist. He opened the bathroom door to let the steam escape and to allow some of the air-conditioning to flow into the bathroom.
“How are you doing out there?” he called to Gwaine.
Gwaine appeared in the doorway, holding a pair of neatly ironed shorts.
“Here you go, Your Highness,” Gwaine said with a flourish.
“Thanks,” Merlin said as he squirted a handful of shaving cream from the can.
“No, no, no!” Gwaine said. “You’re not going to shave!”
“Of course I am,” Merlin said, skimming his foamy hands over his cheeks and chin.
Gwaine made a sound like an animal hit by a car.
Merlin grimaced at him from beneath his mask of white. “Just because you like a scruffy face doesn’t mean every guy does,” Merlin said.
“Oh, so you think Arthur likes a smooth face?” Gwaine asked, before turning to put the iron away.
“I’ll admit I’ve thought about it, but it doesn’t really matter since my beard grows so fast. It’ll be back by tomorrow if I think he likes it,” Merlin said as he scraped the razor over his chin.
Gwaine whimpered a bit while stroking his own scruffy beard.
After Merlin finished shaving, he dressed himself to Gwaine’s specifications and endured a few more minutes of Gwaine primping his hair, which he promptly ruined by putting on a navy blue Red Sox cap. He checked his watch and insisted that Gwaine not accompany him to The Devonshire, a trip that would take all of ten minutes if he walked slowly. Instead, he charged Gwaine with tidying up his apartment before returning to his own a few blocks away.
“I’ll have this place looking immaculate… just in case you have an overnight guest,” Gwaine said with a wink.
Merlin smirked and stuffed his wallet in his pocket.
“It’s good to know that you have every confidence in me,” Merlin said.
“You have condoms?” Gwaine asked.
Merlin rolled his eyes.
“Ah, yes, the bike messenger’s rule number… number… I forget which one,” Gwaine said, snapping his fingers.
“Aren’t you thinking of be prepared?” Merlin asked.
“No, that’s not it,” Gwaine said. “I don’t think be prepared is a bike messenger’s rule.”
“I thought that condoms went under the category of safety first, fun second.” Merlin said.
“Maybe,” Gwaine said.
“Wish me luck, in any case,” Merlin replied, heading for the door.
“Wait, aren’t you going to bring your glove? You never know when a foul may come your way,” Gwaine said.
“Gwaine, I’m not eight years old, for God’s sake," Merlin said, shoving him out of his way.
“All right, get going then,” Gwaine said as Merlin stepped into the hall. “Go Sox! And you’d better text me when you get home.”
=^.^= )
Merlin was a bit surprised to see Arthur waiting for him in the lobby of The Devonshire.
As he walked to The Devonshire, Merlin had imagined himself riding to the fortieth floor of the building to greet Arthur for the first time as a date, and not as one of the many delivery people that Arthur undoubtedly had to deal with in his everyday life. He hoped Arthur might show him the rest of his apartment, maybe even give him a hug. That might have solidified Arthur’s intentions more firmly than sharing the free Sox tickets he had scored.
But it was not to be. Merlin shrugged off the fantasy as quickly as he could, and reset his expectations for the night ahead.
“You look like you’re ready to take the field,” Arthur said gesturing to Merlin’s Beckett shirt and the blue ball cap.
“I could say the same for you,” Merlin said brightly, taking in Arthur’s white home jersey with the retired team captain Varitek’s number 33 on the back. “I didn’t think you were a big enough fan to own a shirt.”
“Really? I thought it was some kind of state law that every Massachusetts resident must own at least one.” Arthur smiled and nodded to the doorman, “Taxi, please,” he said.
Merlin and Arthur let the doorman exit first to flag down a taxi.
“I figured we’d take a taxi so we’ll have plenty of time to find our seats and take a look around the ballpark. I hope you don’t mind,” Arthur said, his hand skating across the small of Merlin’s back as they stepped outside.
“No, not at all,” Merlin said, trying to control the feeling of butterflies in his stomach because of the touch of Arthur’s hand. “It’s been a long time since I’ve been to a game. It’ll be fun to see what’s going on around the park.”
The doorman signaled for a taxi and soon Merlin found himself in the backseat of the car with Arthur riding down the same city streets that Merlin pedaled every day. When the taxi turned onto Storrow Drive, Arthur let out a sneeze.
“Excuse me,” he said, digging into his pocket for a handkerchief.
“Bless you,” Merlin said. “Are you sure you’re not allergic to me?”
Arthur laughed and wiped his nose. “No, I’m quite sure I’m not. It’s this tree pollen or something,” Arthur said, waving his hand at the window where the trees lined the Esplanade. “I don’t know why. It starts acting up with me at the end of every summer.”
Merlin played with the strap to his seatbelt. “Are you allergic to other things, as well?” he asked.
“No, not that I know of,” Arthur said, crumpling his handkerchief back into his pocket. “Like what?”
“Well, like cats, for example,” Merlin said, looking out the window. “Most people aren’t allergic to only one thing. There’s usually lots of things they are allergic to-certain animals, for example.”
“I think I’d know if I was allergic to cats,” Arthur said, eyeing Merlin suspiciously for a moment. “Are you trying to tell me that you’re covered in cat fur or something?”
“No, I but I visited the MSPCA recently and I suppose I could have some cat juju lingering around me,” Merlin said, wiggling his fingers in the air.
After a few moments passed, Arthur said, “You’re a bit strange, Merlin.”
Merlin only laughed.
When the taxi dropped them off on the corner of Lansdowne Street, Arthur was quick to draw a bill from his wallet. Merlin made a mental note to take care of the next fare.
As the taxi drove off, Merlin felt free to experience the magical atmosphere that was Fenway. The vibe on the street was almost as dizzying as the thought of spending time with Arthur at his side. He and Arthur walked down the crowded street that bordered the historic park.
Lansdowne Street was closed to vehicular traffic, but open to pedestrians and vendors. The smell of grilled sausages and popcorn filled the air. A long line of hopeful fans waited at the box office window, trying their luck at getting tickets for the game. A certain number of game-day tickets were always held back so that fans could get a standing-room only spot if they showed up early enough at the park. Most fans walked away disappointed. Merlin was glad he didn’t need to worry about getting into the game today.
Arthur was a few steps ahead when Merlin paused to watch a group of amateur musicians beat out a rhythm on a dozen overturned plastic buckets. It was only for a moment, and soon Merlin heard Arthur calling his name. He looked up to see him gesturing wildly from the short section of chain link fence that separated left field from the street.
“Merlin, come look,” Arthur said.
Merlin jogged over to where Arthur stood and peered through the fence. The Red Sox had just finished their warm-up and were crossing the field on their way to the clubhouse. Merlin excitedly pressed his face against the fence, his hands laced through the warm metal of the chain link.
“Big Papi!” a young boy yelled from behind Merlin. Soon a throng of fans had gathered at the fence to watch their heroes walk by. As the crowd grew thicker, Merlin and Arthur were nudged closer together by the encroaching fans. Merlin didn’t mind a bit that the strangers invaded so much of his personal space. Instead, he grinned like a little kid as he caught sight of all his favorite players. It didn’t hurt a bit that he was squashed next to Arthur. He took time to enjoy the solid feel of Arthur pressed against him. He could smell the scent of Arthur’s shampoo as their heads inclined together to get a final glimpse of the players before they disappeared from the field.
When the crowd dispersed, they made their way to the park’s entrance. Arthur dug the tickets out of his wallet and handed one to Merlin. After getting a quick pat-down by security, they passed through the turnstiles and stepped onto the concourse.
“You must be starving,” Arthur said. “Do you want to grab a bite now, or wait until the game starts?”
Merlin took a quick look down the concourse toward the concessions that featured everything from overpriced beer to spinach and artichoke dip.
“No, I can wait. Besides, Gwaine made me eat a Powerbar before I left my apartment,” Merlin said.
“I see,” Arthur said, as they began to walk with the flow of other fans who wandered around the passageway that encircled the field. “And who is this Gwaine… your boyfriend?”
“Oh, no,” Merlin said, trying to keep the blush from coloring his cheeks. “He’s a friend… and a co-worker. Not a boyfriend at all.”
“Oh, so he’s a messenger as well?” Arthur asked.
“Yes, one of the finest. And your place is on his regular route,” Merlin said.
“Is that so?” Arthur asked. “You’d think I’d have seen him by now.”
“He does a great job. If you still think I’m incompetent, maybe you’d like me to arrange for Gwaine to deliver your documents from now on?” Merlin asked with a grin, hoping that Arthur would soundly refuse the offer.
Arthur rolled his eyes. “I’ll take your word for it that he’s good,” he said, squeezing the back of Merlin’s neck. “But I think I’ll keep you on. Perhaps if you work on your skills handling my documents, you’ll be able to measure up to your friend’s caliber someday.”
“You should be so lucky,” Merlin said, giving Arthur’s shoulder a friendly shove.
Beneath the stadium, dozens of vendors displayed every bit of Red Sox merchandise available. There were T-shirts and Bobble-heads, keychains and lingerie, anything conceivable as long as it featured the team’s logo.
“Hey, check it out,” Merlin said, sliding his hand over a small cat collar, woven with the Red Sox’s trademark B. “My cat would love this.”
Merlin shook the collar so the tiny silver bell jingled and Arthur’s brow furrowed. “Hey, we should go find our seats,” Arthur said, drawing Merlin’s attention away from the merchandise.
“Oh, sure, what section are they in?” Merlin asked while digging into his pocket for the ticket.
“Twelve,” said Arthur, who had retrieved his ticket from his pocket faster than Merlin.
As Merlin passed each entryway into the stadium, he gazed through the openings, like giant keyholes that allowed him to spy into the stands. It seemed almost surreal to see the park lit so brightly by thousands of fluorescent lights, despite the late afternoon sun. A hazy cloud hung over the field, as if each atom that once sat as dew on the grass was summoned upward by the combination of the summer sun and the high-tech lighting.
Merlin and Arthur walked to the entryway closest to their seats. Merlin couldn’t help being excited as he climbed the steps and entered the park. The light was blinding and there were too many people moving around for him to be able to concentrate on one thing.
“Over here,” Arthur said, tugging Merlin’s shirtsleeve.
Merlin followed Arthur as he located their seats, which looked directly over the first base line.
“Great seats,” Merlin said when they were settled comfortably.
“Yeah,” said Arthur. “My father’s friend, Geoffrey, gave them to me. To be honest, I think my father’s old friends feel sorry for me and they’re showing their sympathy by giving me things. Do you know what I mean?”
“I think so. I suppose it’s only natural that they want to reach out and do what they can to show that they care about their friend’s son,” Merlin said.
“And Sox tickets are always appreciated. Who in their right mind could turn this down?” Arthur asked as he gestured toward the field. The stands had started to fill up while they sat and talked.
“Did you get along with him well? Your father?” Merlin asked.
Arthur grew tight-lipped as he presumably thought of an appropriate answer.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to pry,” Merlin said.
“I suppose it’s not right to be rejoicing over great seats when my father is dead,” Arthur said.
“I didn’t mean-” Merlin began.
“My mother died when I was an infant, so my father has always been my only family,” Arthur said resolutely.
“What about Morgana?” Merlin asked.
“My half-sister, actually… proven by a paternity test when I was away in college,” Arthur said.
“Oh,” Merlin said. “I hadn’t realized.”
“It sounds like something you’d see on Jerry Springer, doesn’t it?” Arthur laughed.
“I’m sure that took some sorting out between you and your father,” Merlin said.
“It did,” Arthur nodded. “We didn’t always see eye to eye, despite the fact that he raised me. When he first took ill, a couple years ago, I moved back here from New York. I stayed in his apartment when he was hospitalized, but I never thought that he wouldn’t be returning.”
“So it’s his apartment you’re living in at The Devonshire?” Merlin asked.
“I’ve been there for two years, come September,” Arthur said.
“Oh, so he was hospitalized since then?” Merlin asked.
“I had been between jobs in New York when I came to visit him for week. While I was here, he suffered a stroke,” Arthur said, averting his eyes to a stray thread at the hem of his shorts.
“I’m sorry to hear that,” Merlin said.
“At first the doctors weren’t certain to what degree he would recover,” Arthur said. “But as time went on, the outlook became increasingly grim.”
A pair of middle-aged women stopped at the row of seats Merlin and Arthur were sitting in. They indicated that this was their row, as well. The men stood to make room for the women to squeeze past them to find their seats at the end of the row.
“So you never went back to New York?” Merlin asked, when they were seated again, wondering gently what role an absent boyfriend might play in his future.
“No, I stayed here to be close to my father, in case his health took a turn for the better-or worse. Besides, I had no concrete job to go back to, so I packed my things up and moved them into my father’s apartment,” Arthur said.
“Oh, what kind of work did you do in New York?” Merlin asked, trying to find his way to a more comfortable emotional ground.
“Video engineering,” Arthur said brightly.
Merlin’s eyes went to the broadcast booth where Jerry and Don called the game. “I’m not sure what that is,” Merlin said. “Did you work for a TV station?”
“No, nothing quite so lucrative,” Arthur said. “I worked for myself. People would hire me to set up the recording of live events. Mostly boring stuff like City Council meetings and press conferences. Sometimes, I’d get an offer to do a wedding, if I was lucky.”
“That sounds like fun,” Merlin said. “My mother is getting married this winter. Maybe I can put in a good word for you if you need the work.”
Arthur laughed at that. “I’m afraid I haven’t been able to think about getting my business off the ground in Boston. Maybe that will be just the push I need to get my ass in gear.”
“Have you been doing anything for work?” Merlin asked. “I mean, besides studying to be a bicycle messenger, picking my brain for all the best tricks of the trade.”
“I’m tempted to say that I’ve been running my father’s company, although that would be a gross overstatement, since it pretty much runs itself,” Arthur said.
“Now, see, I knew you had to be doing something all day besides fighting with Morgana,” Merlin said. “What kind of business did he do? He must have been successful to live in that beautiful high-rise.”
“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you,” Arthur said.
“Oh, come on,” Merlin said.
A puff of breath escaped from Arthur’s lips. “He manufactured rabies poles. Those catch-pole things that you see Animal Control officers using on animals that need to be restrained.”
Merlin nearly choked with laughter. “That’s actually pretty funny.”
“I know,” Arthur said. “He bought the company when he was a young man. They make the poles and ship them from a factory in California. It’s the only place in the world that makes them, and it’s the only thing they make.”
“Nice. I’m surprised your father didn’t live out there where it’s sunny,” Merlin said.
“Oh, no,” Arthur said. “He was born in Boston and he loved it here. Besides, the company pretty much ran itself. He just had to sit back and collect a paycheck. Not bad for a couple hours of work per week.”
“And now the company’s ownership is at stake?” Merlin asked.
“Just one of the things Morgana is trying to claim for her own from my father’s estate, along with the apartment,” Arthur said.
“If you lose the apartment, do you think you’ll want to move back to New York?” Merlin asked. “Or maybe move to California to keep an eye on things if you get to keep the company?”
“I love Boston. I’d love to stay here, but I really have no idea if my differences with Morgana will ever be resolved. I worry about losing the things that are most important to me-the things she’s threatening to take away,” Arthur said, turning to Merlin. “I’d like to try to forget about it tonight.”
“I’m sorry,” Merlin said. “It must be very difficult. I’ve seen how many documents you two have shuttling back and forth. It can’t be easy.”
Merlin wondered if it was too much for him to expect Arthur to speak about his legal woes. Perhaps when Arthur was ready to share, Merlin would listen, but until then, the affairs of the elder Pendragon’s estate were something that Merlin would wait for Arthur to broach with him. Although Arthur was shaping up to be a perfect date for his mother’s wedding, Merlin was ever-cautious about playing his cards right. He didn’t want to give Arthur the impression that he was some kind of gay gold-digger.
“I suppose we Pendragons are keeping Kilgharrah Kourier in business these days, and I suspect we will be for a long while,” Arthur said.
“I won’t complain about the job security,” Merlin grinned, pleased that Arthur allowed him an opening to change the subject.
Merlin was so busy thinking about something interesting to say that he couldn’t have anticipated what happened next.
Arthur let his fingertips trail across the back of Merlin’s hand. “To think,” Arthur said, leaning close to Merlin so he could whisper in his ear, “that I was simply going to let you in my door, hand you some documents, and send you on your way.”
Merlin felt the tips of his ears burn with Arthur’s flirtatious tone. He was relieved that he didn’t have to think of what to say next because the announcer’s voice boomed over the loudspeakers, welcoming the fans to the park. After several rounds of applause for the players, the singing of the national anthem and the equally revered “Play Ball,” the fans became quiet enough for Merlin to hear the beating of his heart again.
“Should we grab a bite now, before things get too exciting,” Merlin asked.
“I suppose that’s a good idea,” Arthur said, patting his stomach as if he was starving.
“I’ve got it,” Merlin said placing his hand on Arthur’s shoulder. “You can stay here and I’ll go make a food run. What would you like?”
After memorizing Arthur’s request for a sausage sub with grilled onions, but no peppers, a single ribbon of mustard across the top, and a Sam Adams draft, Merlin decided to make things easy by just ordering the same thing when he got to the concession stand. Sure, he was mainly a vegetarian, but this was Fenway, and a sausage sub was mandatory.
Merlin smiled the whole time he was in line, thinking about the soft tickle of Arthur’s breath in his ear. He also took it as a positive sign that Arthur seemed somewhat willing to talk about his father’s death and the legal battle for which there seemed to be no end in sight. Still, Merlin wanted to keep the conversation light and not overburden Arthur or himself with the concerns of the day. Besides, Arthur was bloody gorgeous under the ballpark lights and Merlin had little chance of paying attention to anything else. Merlin’s inability to focus on anything other than Arthur became even more obvious when he lost his footing and nearly tumbled down the flight of stairs as he returned to their seats. Fortunately, he caught himself at the last moment, only spilling a few drops of beer from the plastic cups. Arthur, who had witnessed the slip while looking forward to Merlin’s return, simply grinned and shook his head.
By the time Merlin reached Arthur with the food and drinks intact, Verlander had already struck out two and had a full count against Gonzalez.
“Are you always so graceful?” Arthur asked, softly chuckling.
Merlin handed Arthur his sausage and plunked down into his seat again, resting his feet on the crossbar of the seat in front of him.
“You weren’t supposed to see that,” Merlin said confidently. He tried to contain his smile while he checked the pitch count between bites of sausage.
More than once, Merlin caught Arthur watching him as the game progressed. Arthur seemed to eat his sausage as unobtrusively as possible, while Merlin took long licks at the dripping juices from the sweet onions and had to wipe his chin with a napkin from the stack he had brought from the concession stand.
Merlin finished shoving the last of his sub into his mouth amid the cheering and clapping as Big Papi drove in a two-run single in the bottom of the third. He and Arthur, like the other Fenway faithful, got to their feet to cheer for the home team.
When the cheering ended, they sat back down in their seats. Merlin was busy checking the scoreboard when he felt Arthur’s thumb brush corner of his mouth. He felt his heart beat faster as he wondered what Arthur meant by touching him in front of everyone in the stadium. It was as if Merlin was the focal point of the universe and everyone knew that Arthur Pendragon was touching his lips. Merlin could barely breathe.
“You’ve got some mustard there,” Arthur said.
“Oh,” Merlin said, startled. He reached for another napkin and made a few passes across him mouth with it before asking, “Better?”
Arthur looked at Merlin’s lips again and deemed them clean. Merlin’s face grew hot at the thought of Arthur inspecting him. He felt Arthur’s sparkling blue eyes scanning his face appreciatively. He even dared to make some eye contact at close range, and basked in the same warm feeling he felt for Arthur reflected back to him in Arthur’s eyes.
When their attention drifted from each other, they settled into the rhythm of the game, side by side, both cheering for the Sox when they got a hit. With Verlander on the mound, they didn’t come too easily.
As silly as it was, Merlin couldn’t help but be enthused that he was attending a game where the opponent’s team name evoked the sleek jungle cats that roamed the African continent far from Fenway. The feline beasts were never far from Merlin’s heart, even if they came in the form of Justin Verlander and his 4-seam fastball.
“Do you like cats?” Merlin asked off the cuff. He couldn’t remember whether he had actually asked Arthur if he liked them.
Arthur suddenly choked on the mouthful of beer he had been swallowing at the time, gasping and spewing the amber liquid from his nose. Merlin was surprised to see Arthur do something so undignified. While Arthur fumbled amongst their trash for a clean napkin to cover his mouth, Merlin wondered whether he should pound on Arthur’s back to help him breathe properly.
“Why?” Arthur fought to regain his breath. “Why do you ask?”
“I was just wondering, from when we were talking about allergies on the ride here,” Merlin said, pleased that Arthur seemed to have recovered. “Have you ever seen that cat Gwen from YouTube?”
Arthur’s coughing fit seemed to begin again, although he hadn’t taken another sip of beer.
“I may have seen her once or twice,” Arthur said.
“She’s gone absolutely viral,” Merlin said. “Especially since her book came out-‘I Am Gwen.’ That kind of says it all.”
“I guess so,” Arthur said, dabbing his face with a napkin.
“You know,” Merlin said, leaning close so no one could overhear. “Most people think bike messengers are total hipsters, but I’d watch that frigging cat jump into a box all day long if I could.”
Arthur exhaled shakily. “Yeah… a cat jumping into a box is pretty entertaining.”
Merlin decided not to pursue the cat conversation any further with Arthur since it seemed to bring out strange behavior. Instead, he sat back to enjoy the game.
Lester had given up two walks in the bottom of the sixth when Fielder stood at the plate. The first pitch was a hard fastball, inside.
Ball 1.
The second pitch, a curveball, down and away.
Ball 2.
The third pitch was a two-seam fastball middle away, which Fielder tattooed into the stands.
Arthur never saw the ball coming.
Merlin had seen Arthur’s attention drift to the beautiful sunset that streaked the sky with color above third base while Fielder was at bat. Although he was only one hundred feet from home plate, Arthur had no way of knowing the ball heading in his direction.
Time seemed to slow as Merlin shifted in his seat. His feet left the crossbar where they were resting even before the ball left the interior of the field. Merlin planted his left foot on the concrete floor in front of him as the ball cleared the first rows of fans. With both hands, he grabbed Arthur by his shirt, the fabric bunching beneath his fingers.
Merlin’s eyes never left the ball.
The umpire cried, “Foul!”
Later, Merlin would swear that he could make out each stitch of the ball as it rocketed toward Arthur's head.
Merlin pulled.
A look of confusion passed over Arthur’s face when he was hauled forward just before the ball hit the back of his seat. The sharp snap of leather splintering the wooden seatback rang through the park. Arthur freed himself from Merlin’s grip and the park exploded with cheers.
Back at home plate, Fielder shook his head, as if apologizing.
Someone handed Merlin the ball, which had spun off the seatback and landed in the hands of a fan behind him. By then, Arthur had finally recognized what had nearly happened to him.
“You saved his life,” a fan shouted, slapping Merlin on the back.
Arthur looked like a fish out of water, his eyes open wide as he gasped for breath.
“Good job,” another fan said, adding to Merlin’s feeling of pride.
“Thanks, Merlin,” Arthur finally uttered when he got his bearings.
“They’ll need to repair this in the morning,” Merlin said, letting his fingers tentatively examine the splintered seatback.
“I’m lucky that wasn’t my head,” Arthur said, stating the obvious.
“This belongs to you,” Merlin said, tossing the ball up and down in one hand. “Keep it for a souvenir.”
“Thanks… I think,” Arthur said. “Shouldn’t you bring a glove next time?”
“I thought about bringing mine, but it seemed silly at the time. Only little kids brought gloves to the game,” Merlin said, lowering his gaze.
“No one would mind. You’re a big kid, anyway, so you could get away with it,” Arthur said as he examined the ball, rotating it with his fingers, in a motion that seemed strangely familiar to Merlin.
“Alright, maybe I will,” Merlin said, pleased that Arthur was talking about there being a next time, even though he almost lost his life to a foul ball.
“That would be adorable,” Arthur said.
“What’s that?” Merlin asked, distracted by the thought of Arthur’s hands.
“You,” Arthur said.
“Me?” Merlin answered.
“You, bringing your glove to the park to try to snag a foul ball. That would be adorable. As if you’re not adorable enough already,” Arthur said, the blush in his cheeks barely noticeable. “Thanks for saving my life.”
Merlin couldn’t have been more pleased with how their date was going. He tried not to read too much into it. It was early in their friendship and after only one meeting that wasn’t business related, so he didn’t want to get his hopes up. He sank back into his seat and tried to enjoy the game as much as he enjoyed sitting beside Arthur.
Sometime in the next inning, a park official stopped by to inspect the back of Arthur’s chair. When the official determined that Arthur hadn’t suffered any real trauma, other than acquiring a new appreciation for paying attention when a batter was at the dish, he offered Arthur some vouchers for free food and drink at the concessions. Merlin took this opportunity to load both of them up with boxes of Cracker Jack and a large bag of roasted peanuts.
After another round of beer, along with a pair of hot pretzels, Arthur seemed to relax as thoroughly as possible for someone who was nearly killed by a foul ball. The score was 2-2 when Jackson made the last out in the top of the eighth. Merlin thought that was as good a time as any to get up out of his seat and make a trip to the men’s room before they had to trek home, but Arthur had other ideas.
“You can’t leave now,” Arthur insisted as the music began to play.
Merlin didn’t quite understand. “It’s just a song,” he laughed. “It’s no big deal.”
Arthur looked affronted. “Listen, Merlin, I may have lived in New York for a few years,” Arthur said, making sure to whisper the name of his city in order to avoid inciting a riot among the Boston fans, “but I grew up watching the Sox. There’s no way you can leave me during Sweet Caroline.”
Merlin thought Arthur was being silly. This was the perfect time to leave his seat. There would be no line for the men’s room, not with the familiar strains of Neil Diamond’s voice over the loudspeakers.
“Where it began… I can’t begin to know when… but then I know it’s growing strong,” Arthur sang along with the crowd.
Merlin could only laugh at Arthur when he took his hand and swung their arms in the air.
“Was it the spring… and spring became the summer… who'd believe you'd come along,” Arthur sang with a tipsy grin.
“Haaaaaaands,” the noise in the stadium was deafening.
“Touching hands…”
“Reaching out… “
“Touching me… touching you,” Arthur-and the 37,493 other fans in the park-sang.
Merlin could no longer resist Arthur’s antics, so he joined in, “Sweet Caroline, bah, bah, bah… Good times never seemed so good. So good! So GOOD! SO GOOD!”
“I've been inclined, bah, bah, bah… to believe it never would….”
Merlin had been keenly aware of the Kiss-Cam that lingered on couples, their faces projected onto the giant screens that flanked the Green Monster. As Sweet Caroline played, the camera scanned around the park, seeking out potential subjects who would rouse the crowd by kissing onscreen. Some couples smiled and kissed. Some couples laughed and avoided kissing. Shouts went up from the crowd whenever the camera loomed near. Before long, the camera headed Merlin’s way, focusing on Arthur as he sang. After a slight adjustment to the focus, Merlin saw himself in the frame with Arthur, splashed over the Jumbotron. Arthur was still fully engaged in singing, but when he finally noticed the shouts of the crowd around him and Merlin, he looked up to see his face on camera and got a clue as to what was happening.
Merlin tried to smile, biting his lip the whole while. He would hate to feel as if Arthur had been forced to kiss him. When he was all but certain that Arthur was simply going to ignore the Kiss-Cam, instead he slung an arm around Merlin’s neck and pulled his head in close. Merlin tried to squirm away, but before he could, Arthur playfully rubbed his knuckles onto Merlin’s head. The fans around them burst into laughter and the camera moved on to find some other potential kissers.
Merlin was a bit relieved. Although Boston was a gay-friendly city, he didn’t want to push his luck with Arthur. Things were going well between them and the night wasn’t quite over yet.
At the top of the ninth inning, the Sox were up 3-2 and Bard was well on his way to striking out Boesch for the win when he got a base hit. With the tying run on first, everyone in the park stood and held their breath while Cabrera came to the plate.
“Every game I’ve ever been to ends this way,” Merlin said, covering his eyes.
“We’ll still have last ups,” Arthur said hopefully, letting his hand rest between Merlin’s shoulder blades.
It was all Merlin could do to concentrate on the pitcher, hoping that the game wasn’t sent into extra innings. He wanted Arthur, alone, and all to himself, right now. He had saved Arthur’s life. He was sure that he could think of a way for Arthur to repay him if he put his mind to it, but he needed the game to end now.
“I can’t watch,” Merlin said as the pitch crossed the plate.
When he next opened his eyes, the crowd erupted into cheers because Cabrera had grounded into a 6-4-3 double play.
“Woohoo!” Merlin yelled along with the crowd, throwing his hands in the air.
“Nothing like a close game to make it all worthwhile,” Arthur said as he wildly applauded.
The screaming fans began to shift to leave the stadium. Although there was a little unintentional pushing and shoving, the crowd fell into line one behind the other as they funneled toward the exits. There was no escape from the sea of humanity as people inched through the passageways beneath the stands. Merlin was reassured by the grip of Arthur’s hand on his shoulder that they would soon be outside again.
When the fans filtered onto Lansdowne Street, they moved a little faster, but everyone was headed in the same direction, hooting and hollering about the win.
“We’ll never get a taxi in this mess,” Arthur said.
“We could just take the T,” Merlin said. Even Arthur wouldn’t be pretentious enough to avoid the city’s subway system all the time. “Come on, I’ll buy.”
“Sounds good,” Arthur said, taking Merlin’s hand.
Merlin glanced down at his hand as it fitted into Arthur’s. He felt a flutter of joy in his chest. Arthur seemed to have no qualms about showing affection, and Merlin hoped it was a sign of where the night would lead.
The pair hurried with the flow of fans down Brookline Avenue toward the Kenmore T stop where the line of people waiting to board the train already spilled out onto Commonwealth Avenue.
“May as well get in line,” Arthur said, letting go of Merlin’s hand so he could walk through the narrow entrance in front of him.
Merlin fumbled for his wallet and got out his Charlie Card in anticipation of the line moving forward. He didn’t mind the crowded conditions or the feel of Arthur’s chest pressed against his back, Arthur’s hands wandering with affection to his shoulders, his waist, his hips.
At the turnstile, Merlin tapped the card to the sensor. When he got the green light, he handed the card to Arthur so he could do the same. They then followed the flow of the crowd onto the platform where they awaited the next train.
They had to be careful not to get too close to the edge of the platform as more fans pushed through the turnstiles and joined the wait for a ride home. Before too long, the rumble of the train shook the ground as it rolled into the station.
The doors slid open and people clambered aboard until they were stuffed into the car like sardines. Since there were no empty seats, Merlin reached up with both hands to grab the bar that ran the length of the train car so he could steady himself for the ride. Arthur was standing right in front of him with no place to hang onto. When the train jolted out of the station, Arthur jerked forward and stopped himself from falling by grabbing Merlin by the waist. Merlin gasped. The air was heavy with the scent of the city, the odor of newsprint and bio-fuel. Arthur’s fingers didn’t grip enough to hurt, but just enough for Merlin to know that they were there digging into the waistband of his cargo shorts.
“Well, hello,” Merlin said seductively, so only Arthur could hear him, his words mostly drowned out by the rush of the train along the tracks.
“Hello there,” Arthur murmured. “Do you come here often?”
Merlin felt himself blush every shade of red, and he didn’t care whether Arthur noticed or not.
“Hynes,” the robotic voice announced over the loudspeaker as the train came to a halt at the station.
No one moved when the doors opened.
Arthur let go of Merlin for a moment so he could adjust his footing. Merlin stretched his long fingers and re-gripped the bar. Fortunately, he was tall enough that the reach didn’t bother him.
The doors closed and the sway of the train car flung Arthur into Merlin again. Arthur’s arms slipped around Merlin’s waist to steady himself as the train’s wheels clattered along the tracks, through tunnels, and over bridges. Copley, Arlington, Park Plaza, the stops went by without many passengers leaving the train. If anything, they were packed more tightly than they were when they boarded the train at Kenmore.
“Where do you get off, Merlin?” Arthur whispered the words into Merlin’s ear, his tone leaving nothing to innuendo when they approached the Government Center stop.
Merlin swallowed hard. He felt as if a bolt of lightning had shot straight from his ear to his cock. His mind was racing with what might happen that night. Maybe Arthur would invite him to his place, or maybe they’d find themselves back at Merlin’s. He hoped to God that Gwaine cleaned his apartment up a bit.
“I usually ride the Red Line to Downtown Crossing,” Merlin said, noncommittal.
Arthur nodded. “Then you’ll need to get off at Government Center with me, because you just missed your connection for the Red Line.”
“Like Charlie on the MTA,” Merlin said, lowering his lashes. “I can ride the T all day without ever getting off… but what fun would that be?”
When the train pulled into Government Center, it seemed like everyone onboard breathed a sigh of relief that they would be exiting.
The whoosh of pneumatics signaled the door’s opening and people began to pile out of the train. Suddenly Merlin had more breathing room. Before he knew it, he and Arthur were tumbling out the train door and heading for the escalator. Merlin was about to step onto the escalator to the street level at Scollay Square, but Arthur had other ideas.
“Come on,” Arthur said, tugging Merlin’s hand. “Let’s go for a ride.”
Merlin was thrilled to follow as Arthur led them downstairs to the Blue Line. Nearly all the people who had been on the Green Line train from Kenmore were assembled there, waiting for the train to the parking lots in the northern suburbs where five dollars bought them a parking space for the night as opposed to the fifty dollars or more to park in Beantown.
Mercifully, the Blue Line train rolled into the station as Merlin and Arthur reached the bottom of the stairs and they were able to squeeze through the doors before they closed, despite the T official promising that another less-crowded train was on its way into the station.
Merlin found himself in the same position that he had adopted on the Green Line train from Kenmore, arms above his head, holding onto the bar so he wouldn’t lose his balance. When the train sped out of the station, it was so crowded that no one would have noticed or even cared that Arthur’s arms found their way around Merlin’s waist again, his fingers splayed across the small of his back, his thumbs pressing into the soft flesh beneath his shirt.
“State Street,” the robotic voice chimed when the train braked to a halt.
“That’s your stop,” Merlin said knowingly. He had been to The Devonshire enough times to know which station Arthur would use, if he ever needed to ride the T. Merlin’s hips hitched involuntarily. “Do you want to keep riding?”
Arthur made no movement to exit the train. Instead, he shifted so that one of his legs slotted between Merlin’s. “You can get back to Downtown Crossing from here, too,” he said. “If you want-”
“I don’t know if I want to go home just yet. This is kind of cozy,” Merlin said as the doors closed and the train sped down the tracks again.
Aquarium…
Maverick…
Airport…
More riders exited the train at each stop. No passengers boarded, but Merlin and Arthur remained as they were, Arthur’s hands braced on Merlin’s hips, while Merlin held the overhead bar for balance.
Wood Island…
Orient Heights…
Rolling beneath the city, the train rumbled to the rhythm of their hips as they slipped against each other with every twist of the tracks. By the time they reached the northern extremities of the Blue Line, only the two of them remained in the car. Arthur hitched his chin over Merlin’s shoulder and Merlin shivered at the feel of his breath against his neck before the train took off again.
To Merlin’s dismay, a drunk from the racetrack got onboard when they pulled into Suffolk Downs. He was an old man with a cane, who emptied his pockets of losing race stubs, scattering them on the floor before making his sad journey home.
“Get a room,” he muttered, halfway to himself, while Merlin let go of his bar with one hand and made a show of massaging the baseball that Arthur had wedged into his back pocket.
At Beachmont Station, the drunk stumbled out the train door.
Alone again, they careened toward Revere Beach and on to Wonderland, where the train would change direction to head toward the city again.
Merlin felt Arthur’s hands shift to the small of his back, his thumbs sliding beneath the waist of his shorts. The squeal of metal on metal sounded from the rails. Merlin’s breath caught in his throat when Arthur’s fingers traced circles on the hairless skin of his torso. He watched Arthur’s eyes, half-closed while he swayed to the motion of the train. There was no mistaking the pressure of his hard cock digging into Merlin’s thigh.
“This is what I wanted to do since the first moment I saw you,” Arthur said.
Merlin gripped the bar more tightly. He felt Arthur’s lips brush his, and suddenly they were kissing.
Arthur’s lips were as soft as Merlin had imagined they would be. He moaned a little as his lips parted to the sweep of Arthur’s tongue, allowing him in. Arthur’s eyes drifted shut, the last thing Merlin saw before he closed his eyes.
Merlin couldn’t really say he was surprised by Arthur kissing him. They had been flirting with each other since long before the foul ball nearly took Arthur’s head off. He squeezed his eyes shut and hummed softly. He supposed if he thought about it, Arthur tasted of Italian sausage, Vidalia onions, and overpriced beer. He suspected that he tasted the same.
He barely noticed when the train pulled into Revere Beach station. The doors opened and with no passengers waiting to board at this time of night, they swiftly closed again.
Merlin could feel Arthur’s heart hammering where their chests met. He pulled back a little to breathe, their mouths separating while their noses still touched.
“Was that before or after I dropped my helmet on your floor?” Merlin asked.
“Shut up, Merlin,” Arthur whispered before he kissed a path along Merlin’s jaw. “I didn’t want the first time I kissed you to be in front of that stupid Kiss-Cam or any of those people at the park. I didn’t want them to ruin it for us.”
“Fat chance of that happening,” Merlin said before finding Arthur’s earlobe and drawing it into his mouth.
Beachmont…
Orient Heights…
Wood Island…
Merlin loved to kiss. When Arthur lowered his head to bite gently at Merlin’s throat, Merlin coaxed Arthur’s lips back to his after catching his breath. To hell with his bee-stung lips, he thought as he let Arthur suck his bottom lip between his. He hoped the burn would last all weekend.
Airport…
Maverick…
Aquarium…
“Arthur?” Merlin gasped between kisses. “Arthur, your stop is coming up.” Merlin hoped that by drawing Arthur’s attention to the upcoming State Street stop, he would be invited to join Arthur at The Devonshire.
“I know,” Arthur said, running his knuckles along Merlin’s cheek.
“If you’d like, we can change to the Orange Line. It’s only one more stop to mine,” Merlin said, letting go of the bar with one hand to wrap it behind Arthur’s neck. “I’m sorry I haven’t had the chance to clean up, and it’s really small and less extravagant than yours, and I’ll have to hide all my ‘I Am Gwen’ stuff from you, so you don’t think I’m a complete lunatic-”
“I’ve got to get back to my apartment,” Arthur said, pulling away abruptly.
“State Street,” the robotic voice announced.
Merlin raised his eyes hopefully as the train slowed.
“I need to get back to my own apartment tonight,” Arthur said, nodding resolutely, as if the past fifteen minutes of kissing on the train had never happened.
The doors whooshed open and Arthur stepped backward, letting go of Merlin’s hands. Merlin reached for him like a drowning man reaching for a life preserver. Arthur felt for the doorframe and stepped off the train.
Merlin watched him, even after the doors shut. Arthur turned away and headed for the stairs that would take him to street level.
When the train began to move, Merlin sat down. He folded his arms across his chest, feeling the ache from having held his arms over his head for so long. He chanced a glimpse around the vacant subway car through the sudden tears in his eyes. Grateful that no one was there to see him, he decided he could walk the distance home from Government Center.
=^.^= )