(love, or) A Feeling Like It (three)
The first sounds he hears when he enters his flat is the television, playing something in French, candy wrappers and someone munching. All together, it’s a dangerous combination. Mostly because none of them actually speak an actual useful phrase of French.
Merlin finds Leon sprawled on the couch with his self-proclaimed lazy jeans and a dirty t-shirt, chewing on some gummy.
“I thought Morgana banned those gummies in this flat,” Merlin says and plops down next to Leon on the couch.
“It’s not my fault they taste like sex,” Leon shrugs.
“The very reason she banned them,” Merlin gives a small laugh. “What’re you doing home so early?”
“Boss cut us out early,” Leon says matter-of-factly. “Why do you smell like matrimony?”
“Gwen and Lance invited me to go to Lance’s tux fitting.”
“Brilliant,” Leon nods and he sinks back into his seat, eating those gummies like nobody’s business and watching television (which has now reverted back to good old English) while Merlin just sits there next to him, thinking.
He doesn’t think for long, though (neither Leon nor Morgana ever let him) because Leon’s looking at him like he’s an endangered pet and he’s worried about the survival of his species. Leon lowers the volume and asks, “Alright, what’s wrong?”
Merlin’s answers in his head seem futile because Leon really does know him too well and he’s just sure that the replies, “Nothing,” or a variation of it will never suffice. And, besides, he was going to tell him and Morgana, anyway.
“Arthur kissed me.”
“Brilliant.”
“And then he disappeared.”
“Not so brilliant.”
“Damn straight,” Merlin sighs, taking one of the gummies and popping one into his mouth.
“I never pegged you for one of those guys who worry about something fickle like a kiss,” Leon says.
“Yeah, neither did I,” Merlin nods, smiling at him. “Funny how people change you, eh?”
“Fucking hilarious, mate,” he laughs.
“Tell me again how you told Morgana you liked her?” Merlin’s head lolls back in a comfortable position on the couch. Leon mimics the gesture and they look like kids, sharing candies and secrets.
“I was a slobbering mess; winter break during our first semester at uni. I came over to her at the bar and asked her out on a thousand dates. I said we’d kiss and fuck on the first and I’d tell her I loved her on the second and I’d ask her to marry me on the third and we’d spend the rest of our lives spending 997 dates.”
“I can’t believe she actually fell for that, though.”
“It’s only because I was charming and drunk and I was the only guy on campus who didn’t send her envelopes full of condoms,” Leon shrugs. “And, yeah, it was a surprise when she came into my class the next day and practically shouted that she was asking me out on a thousand and one dates. ‘Because the first one starts now’ she said. And she took my hand and gave the finger to the one of the boys who had given her condoms the day earlier. I failed that class but it was totally worth it.”
“Yeah, what’re you gonna do with Foreign Languages anyway?” Merlin huffed out. “When you have the language of love…”
“I knew that was coming.”
Leon burst out laughing, realizing just how corny he sounded. Merlin’s heard from their uni friends that Leon wasn’t this cheesy before he and Morgana got together but he wasn’t exactly happy enough to start skipping any time soon. Funny how people change you.
“We on the same planet there, mate?” Leon asks.
“Uhm, maybe,” Merlin says. “I think you just helped me.”
“Really?”
“Yeah, cos you might’ve been drunk and slobbering but at least you said it and Morgana asked you right back because you guys liked each other.”
“Yes…”
“And I might’ve been hooked up to an IV and half-asleep when he kissed me but he kissed me…” Merlin’s sentence drifts away into his thoughts as half-formed bubbles start appearing in front of him like some cartoon. “I know what to do.”
“Okay, good. Care to share?” Leon asks.
“I think we’ll just wait until Gwen and Lance’s dinner party this weekend.”
“But that’s days away! The suspense, Merlin! WHY?”
“It makes for a good thriller movie and, besides, it’s just three days away. You’ll probably be spending most of that being nostalgic with Morgana and drinking with your beer buddies.”
“You sound jealous,” Leon pouts.
“Cos you’ve got a great significant other and you have more than just a handful of friends? Always jealous of you, mate,” Merlin says sadly.
Leon pulls him in for a hug and then pulls out another gummy for him.
Wave of Walls - Casey Shea
Merlin doesn’t bother with the insecurities that Arthur might not show up because he knows he will. Because Arthur’s an honourable person and he loves Gwen and Lance and, for the most part, tonight will never be about Merlin.
So he turns up at Gwen and Lance’s flat with Morgana and Leon, dressed in a nice ensemble (black jeans and a blue shirt) because, contrary to popular belief, he has nothing against dressing up nice, especially if it’s for Gwen and Lance.
He hugs them both and Gwen shoots him a knowing smile when she pulls away. She passes him a drink and then points her eyes to the other side of the room. Amidst the other people and the balloons and the wine glasses, he sees him.
Arthur’s sitting down; talking to Percy who’s using his hands to talk animatedly while Arthur’s just there, nodding and laughing at the precise moment like he’s being controlled using a remote. Arthur tips his head back to take a sip of his drink but, instead, his eyes move away from the target and they land on Merlin.
That’s it, that’s the starting point. No backing away now, Emrys, because neither of them can pretend that it didn’t just happen.
Merlin gives the one-minute finger to Morgana and Leon and walks to them. “Hey, mate,” he says amicably to Percy.
Percy, who knows them all too well, doesn’t even bother to say hello back but, instead, makes a stupid excuse about how his booze is running out and he needs to get some more to function. It’s stupid, of course, because the only one who really needs alcohol to survive around here is Gwaine.
“Hi,” Merlin says, trying to be the steady one here.
“Hi,” Arthur answers back, his voice quivering like a guitar’s string after it’s been plucked.
“Let’s just jump into it, shall we?” Merlin comes closer, just in case Arthur’s not as comfortable with letting anyone else know about what could be happening as he is. “You kissed me.”
“Yeah, yeah I did,” Arthur nods, looking down at his hands.
“Why?”
“Because I liked you.”
“So, past tense then?” Merlin asks.
“No! No, of course not! Of course not past tense. I still do.” Merlin can see the clouds forming in Arthur’s eyes, like there’s a storm coming but Merlin’s not even going to go and get an umbrella, no he’s going to stay here and see how this all plans out.
“Well, good, because I like you, too. Present tense, let’s just get that straightened out,” Merlin pulls back, arms crossed.
Arthur looks at him like he’s grown an extra eye on his forehead and it’s most beautiful eye he’s ever seen. Maybe bluer than the sea, maybe it’s looking at him with all the things Merlin himself wants to say. In short, Arthur looks astounded, shocked, surprised and flustered all at the same time. How someone like him could portray that amount of emotion in the shortest period of time before that look disappeared is beyond him. Maybe he’s been underestimating Arthur.
“Hello, all!” Lance shouts cheerily into the room. “First of all, thanks to all of you for coming to celebrate mine and Gwen’s impending marriage. Second of all, would you please assemble in the dining room for your lunch? Okay, thanks, bye.”
As soon as Lance is finished, as if by cue, Gwen comes to them and asks them to go get the champagne from the kitchens. There’s a glint of mischievousness in her eyes. Of course. She doesn’t need them to actually get the champagne; she would probably get Gwaine to get it so she could have a quick job of it. No, she needs them to stand in a room together and talk it out. Merlin doesn’t know if he should feel good or bad about this.
Arthur and Merlin leave the living room and enter the kitchens of sparkly floors and high top cabinets, all alone. It’s like going to your first adolescent party, with boys and girls and even though you’ve been asking -nay, begging- your parents for you to go, you don’t find yourself that in time with the rest of the kids.
The one thing you wanted more than anything was turning out to be something you never wanted.
“I’m sorry,” Arthur says, his eyes filling in the regret.
“I know you are,” Merlin says, “but I don’t think that’s enough.”
“I’ve wanted to kiss you for the longest time,” Arthur says. “I regret doing it like that and running away afterwards. You don’t deserve that.”
“I deserve the best of you,” Merlin nods.
“You can have it,” Arthur steps forward, his face inches away from his and Merlin can smell his everything. Can smell the fabric of his clothes and the tell-tale of his mild intoxication and can feel his breath upon his. It’s the most intimate he’s felt in a long time, possibly his whole life.
“Thanks,” Merlin manages to say. “But I’d rather have everything.”
“Take it. For chrissakes, Merlin, please,” Arthur’s voice breaks a little and this is a first.
Merlin wants to take everything, like Arthur’s promised, and make sure that every nook and cranny of Arthur is perfectly kept and is being taken care of the way it should be. But he can’t, not now, because they’re in the kitchen and they’re being expected and he’s sure that the minute he leans in to kiss Arthur (on the lips, on the neck, anywhere, anywhere, he just wants to kiss him) someone will burst through the door and blush and say, “Oh, sorry,” and proceed to tell the entire dining room afterwards.
He’s selfish, he knows, but he wants this moment all for himself.
“What now?” Arthur asks.
“Let’s go back to the dining room and then politely excuse ourselves,” Merlin answers. “Then we’ll go to your place.”
“Yeah?” Arthur asks, his smirk reminding Merlin he’s dealing with Arthur Penn, who might be amazing and sensitive but he’s also still Arthur Penn, the arrogant prat.
“Yeah,” Merlin nods. He doesn’t kiss him but he does, however, link his fingers with his and, God, the feeling is overwhelming, just from that one touch. It’s like he’s been waiting for this for a long time, longer than he was even aware of. Like he made his mistakes and turned left just so he could be here, in this kitchen, with the palpable air around him. It’s almost as if he’s been waiting for Arthur forever.
So they leave the kitchen with the wine glasses and Gwaine yells out, “What the hell took so long?” because when it comes to Gwaine, you don’t mess with his alcohol. Lance has his eyebrow raised while Gwen pretty much looks as if Merlin just told her he and Arthur were going to elope to Canada and have copious amounts of gay sex and adopt little Cambodian babies.
But the way Arthur’s looking at him (oh, God, that look) and the way Merlin’s probably looking at Arthur -with half-lidded eyes, half conscious because of the things he’s thinking of doing right now and a smile that would envy all the puppies in the universe- is practically telling her anyway.
“Sorry, Gwen, I’ve got to go,” Merlin says to her. “Uh, work and stuff.”
“Of course, of course,” Gwen hugs him tightly. Merlin says goodbye to the others and go out of the door. Not five minutes later, Arthur follows the same gesture and he looks at him like he’s every bit of sunshine.
“Can I kiss you now?” is the first thing Arthur asks when they’re out of the building.
Technically, there’s nothing wrong with kissing now, they’re out of everyone’s eyes and only in each other’s but, no, not yet. At least, not in the way Arthur wants it to be. So Merlin leans in and plants his lips on Arthur’s neck. It’s an awkward thing, kissing someone’s neck like this, almost as if he’s looking for his vein and thinking of biting on to it like a vampire. But Arthur doesn’t seem to think so because his whole body goes rigid the moment Merlin does it and, fuck, did he just shiver?
Merlin laughs against his skin and Arthur just smacks him on the arm.
They enter Arthur’s car (because Merlin followed Morgana and Leon anyway) and they smile at each other, like they’re kids and they’re off to a crazy kind of road trip wherein there will be mix tapes and rebellious acts and enough sexual tension to make it a movie worth seeing. But they’re not, they’re not kids but the feeling stays. There is tension, after all, and silly actions can follow and Merlin can always make him a mix tape.
“Do you like poetry?” Arthur suddenly asks.
“Sometimes,” Merlin shrugs.
“The big trees on the other side of her, uh, him, uprooted; but you, cloudless boy, question of smoke, corn tassel; you were what the wind was making with illuminated leaves; behind the nocturnal mountains, white lily of conflagration; ah, I can say nothing! You were made of everything.”
“Pablo Neruda,” Merlin says and huffs out in disbelief. “Of course you can quote Neruda.”
“Surprised?” Arthur looks at him. “You don’t get what I’m trying to say, though, do you?”
“That I was made of everything? That your heart revolves like a crazy wheel? Or maybe that I cross above your heart without stopping?” Merlin asks absent-mindedly, his feet on the dash.
“All of the above, actually,” Arthur says fondly, which takes Merlin aback, more than it should. Because the feelings have been tossed out there but this, this is different, this is Arthur in himself, in other’s words. This is him showing Merlin just what he means to him in a way Merlin can understand better than any other way and, right now, Merlin’s heart can’t stop fluttering about.
“Arthur, I-”
“We’re here,” Arthur looks out the window.
Merlin follows him out and up the stairs. There’s that silence again, only this time he thinks he’s expected to make some sort of gesture, one to match Arthur’s, because Arthur has his hands in his pockets when all Merlin wants to do is hold them.
“P-poetry,” Merlin manages to stutter.
“What?”
“I’ve got a poem, too. My own, so please excuse the nonsense that comes through in between stanzas.”
“I’d be delighted to hear it.”
“I think I might just have to love you
Or else I’ll go insane
But if you don’t love me
You’re not one to blame
Cos I like long, romantic walks
But only to my laptop
And I-”
He’s cut off by a strong push until he’s against the wall and his breath knocked out of him. But he has no time to retrieve it back because Arthur’s replacing it with his own. And his words, his stupid, silly words are replaced by his lips.
Merlin moans against them because this is amazing. Arthur’s lips are soft and chapped and full of promises and Merlin’s actually fully awake to remember it. Because it’s all he wants to do. He wants to remember every curve of Arthur’s lips and how his tongue darts out to trace his bottom lip with it and how fervent and urgent it is, like they’re chasing time with their kisses.
He wants to remember, quite unashamedly, how he himself mutters, “Ngh,” when Arthur pulls back for a while to attack his neck and collarbone and how he positively melts and writhes because this is really fucking fantastic. And how Merlin starts to put his leg between Arthur’s and Arthur bites his lip and tips his head just so and it’s so tantalizing that he just wants to take a picture and have a wank to it whenever he wants to.
“Roses are red, violets are blue, screw poetry cos I’d rather fuck you,” Arthur says.
Merlin laughs and says, “What a fucking romantic.”
“Come on, come on, Merlin, come up,” Arthur practically jumps up and down and he kisses him after every syllable. Those sloppy kisses that nobody really remembers because they’re always followed by something bigger.
“Yeah, let’s go up,” Merlin says, matching his excitement.
Arthur reluctantly removes himself from Merlin’s body and, God, already he misses the warmth, and takes Merlin’s hand in his and leads him up the yellow brick road to somewhere Merlin’s hoped they’d be going when he woke up this morning. And all he can ask from the Wizard of Oz is, not a heart or a brain or a book with his name printed on it, but a requited love that will stay longer than most.
Merlin doesn’t get a chance to observe Arthur’s apartment because it was empty and without an owner when he first came here. He sees a flash of color before he’s tugged into the bedroom. Once they enter, Arthur pushes him, once again, against the wall but he doesn’t go for his lips this time. His fingers start trailing up the side of his legs, to his hips, and then to the hem of his shirt.
“Off,” Arthur instructs breathily.
Merlin does, unbuttons it, one by one, because Arthur’s not the only one who can do this. Although, after a while, Arthur’s not one for games and immediately takes off his own t-shirt and presses his naked skin against Merlin’s own. His hands reach his shoulder and, then, he sees it.
“You have a tattoo,” Arthur notes.
“It was a uni thing. Everyone got them. Peer pressure,” Merlin says.
“Never thought you’d be one to succumb to peer pressure, Emrys,” Arthur smiles and observes the tattoo. It’s nothing much, no roses or barb wires, just the words ‘I am a soul, I have a body’ with quote marks.
“CS Lewis or a variation thereof,” Arthur says, kissing the words. “Tattoos on you are gorgeous.”
“Shut up and kiss me,” Merlin hisses impatiently.
There’s absolutely no train of thought coherent enough to pass as words as Arthur unceremoniously puts him on the bed and then scoots up to him, licking up his chest that makes his toes curl and does other things to his nether regions.
Arthur sits up for a bit and Merlin sees the low slung of his jeans and, god, he can barely get his clothes off fast enough because his hipbones are showing and that piece of skin, the way it juts out like invitation is enough to put his thought into a frenzy. He starts undoing his trousers and Arthur pulls them off him, just so he can continue his assault on him.
“No, jeans off, jeans off sir,” Merlin says, no time for complete sentences. Somehow, in some show of strength, he manages to flip them over so that he’s on top. He slowly trails down Arthur’s chest and kisses his hipbones, one on his left, one on the left and, by this time, Arthur’s head is thrown back and breathing heavily.
Merlin picks at the button of his jeans, still kissing down the treasure trail, and hooks his fingers on the ends of his jeans and pants. He pulls them down slowly and is greeted by a very happy cock in his face. Arthur looks down at him and he’s expecting and flustered and, god, if he didn’t want to fuck him before, he does now.
Slowly, he licks the stripe up the underside of his cock that makes Arthur shiver under him. he licks the tip and he slides his mouth up the length, all the way to the base (“Oh my god,” Arthur curses under his breath) and all Merlin can do is smirk a little with a cock in his mouth, pulling back to lick around the head before sucking him again. He opens his mouth wide and sucks it in, making sure to look up at Arthur as he twists his tongue around his cock, just to see his face.
His hands come up to hold him in place at his hips. Arthur has his back arched and his head is thrown back, exposing the long line of his neck to him. Arthur looks down at him, biting his lips, fuckfuckfuck. He reaches down and runs his hands in Merlin’s hair and tugs.
“Fuck, M,” Arthur breathes out and shifts his body to get a better angle of him.
Merlin takes this as a form of encouragement and sucks harder, fingers digging into Arthur’s hips, his tongue swirling the head of the cock. He reaches up his hand to wrap his fingers around Arthur’s cock and stroke him there. Arthur is making those soft, gasping noises as he fucks Merlin’s mouth and his own cock is being neglected but that’s alright. Because he’s making Arthur make those noises, this is all because of him.
“Stop,” Arthur says.
“What?”
“Stop. I don’t want to come like this, just please, fuck, please let me fuck you,” Arthur says desperately. “Let me fuck you.”
“I’m not gonna last long, hurry up, you fucker,” Merlin says as he climbs up on top of him.
For a moment, all the warmth and heat is lost as Arthur leaves him to pour a generous amount of lube onto his fingers. He doesn’t even bother warning him before he plunges two fingers, knuckle deep, into Merlin’s hole. He feels his breath knocked out of him and he can’t help the small whimper than escapes his mouth as he feels himself opening for Arthur, as he pushes back against his fingers.
“Slut,” Arthur tells him.
“Don’t curr,” Merlin slurs to him as he laughs before adding a third finger. He twists his wrist just so and he almost blacks out. The yelp that escapes him is inevitable as he does it again because it reaches that spot in him; it’s too much, god, it’s just too much. But he can’t help but want more.
Almost in lightning speed, Arthur pulls his fingers from him and quickly rolls on a condom, spreading more lube on his cock before leaning forward, giving him a small kiss at the side of his neck and pushing into him.
Fuck.
Merlin feels himself groan like a wanton slut and he’s never cared less because he’s being stretched wide open, in a delicious sort of way and pushing back, and it’s amazing. There’s a light behind his eyes as Arthur starts thrusting into him.
He raises his legs and his knees grip as he allows Arthur to sink in fully inside and fuck, he’ll never get tired of this. Never.
Arthur braces himself and starts fucking into him in short and fast and hard and deep thrusts, they’re both too desperate for this first time but that’s okay. There will be plenty of other times. Plenty.
“Come on, Merlin, come on,” Arthur reaches in between them to mercilessly strip Merlin’s cock in time with his thrusts.
He can feel it, that tension building and it just takes one more stroke from Arthur to set him off. There it is, that bliss in such frenzy and it feels amazing. Arthur keeps going but he’s close and Merlin pulls him in closer by his knees, pulling him deeper until Arthur gasps and curses one last time. His hips stutter and, in this moment, he still has time to lean down and crush his lips against Merlin, and then he’s right there with him.
The light is blinding. Merlin blinks his eyes, trying to get it away from his pupils but the effort is futile because once he blinks it open, the light reaches in and wakes him up. He doesn’t regret it, though, because when he wakes up, he hears the sheets crunch next to him and the figure of a moving body. The one he’s spent most of yesterday exploring.
Arthur’s awake, though, fully dressed and listening to his Walkman but that doesn’t ruin the sentiment. Arthur’s here, next to him, and, when he got up to wash his face and look at himself in the mirror, he decided not to leave.
“Morning,” Arthur smiles at him and takes out his earphones. He comes back to a sleeping position, hands on his stomach and looking at Merlin.
Merlin means to say good morning, too, but it comes out as, “Mngh.”
“That English?”
“It could be. Could be a different language. I think I just invented a different language before breakfast.”
“What an accomplishment.”
Arthur stretches his body up and kisses Merlin on the nose, probably since he’s not a big fan of morning breath. “I like you.”
“I like you, too,” Merlin smiles, in spite of himself.
His phone beeps and Merlin has to come out of his daze to see what kind of arsehole is texting him at this time of morning. “Your phone’s been beeping a lot, you know. Kind of annoying.”
“I may have a creepy stalker,” Merlin sits upright.
“Oh, dear, I wanted that job,” Arthur says. He sits cross-legged in front of Merlin, his hands on his toes.
His phone is full of text messages. From Morgana.
Where the fuck did you go?
Arthur’s gone, as well
Holy hell, you and Arthur are together aren’t you?
You didn’t tell me?
You told Leon of your epiphany, apparently. I hate you forever.
Well, unless you tell me how wonderful Arthur arse is, that is, then I’ll forgive you. Leon’s watching me text this and I have now promised him sex when we get home.
Call me, you bastard.
“Morgana’s crazy,” Merlin states.
“Didn’t we always know that?” Arthur laughs, his hands coming inside of Merlin’s sheets and wrapping around his foot, slowly massaging him.
“What do we tell them, though?” Merlin asks, more worried than he thought he would be.
“That, in that moment, I swear, we were infinite…”
“Don’t you dare.”
“We tell them we like each other and if they don’t like that, then we won’t give a damn about it. Cos I’m pretty happy right now, aren’t you?”
“Of course I am,” Merlin looks to him. “And what, pray tell, do we tell ourselves?”
Arthur stops what he’s doing and straddles Merlin’s hips, his knees tight against his waist as he smiles at him. He leans down and kisses Merlin on the lips, to which he responds to mildly but then he trails those little butterflies with his lips on his jaw and his neck and that space below his ear and Merlin’s toes curl.
“I believe we can tell each other we now have very attractive boyfriends,” Arthur’s laugh reverberates every nerve in him and, oh God, this man is going to end him.
The phone beeps again.
Arthur sighs, his head dropping, his forehead against Merlin’s. “Give me the phone, Merlin,” he says, sitting up.
Merlin does so and Arthur reads out Morgana’s latest message. “You’re fucking Arthur, aren’t you?”
Arthur’s fingers move to text back. “Yes, he is.”
“Arthur!” Merlin reaches up.
“There, I’ve told them. See, no need to get Stephen Chobsky involved,” Arthur throws the phone and resumes his original position. “Now, shut up, I’m going to suck you off.”
“And after that, I’m going to fuck you and then we’re gonna have breakfast,” Merlin pulls him up for a kiss. “Or maybe I’ll fuck you over the breakfast table.”
“Unf, Merlin, just,” Arthur licks Merlin’s lips, “unff.”
Good Morning - Message to Bears
After breakfast (and the promised fuck) Arthur takes a shower, one Merlin declines because he decides shower sex is something they should do some other time and he wants to see Arthur’s flat.
It’s shrunk in size, if that means any sense, probably because of all the space being occupied by shelves and a couch and a couple of chairs. The living room has a foosball table, a beanbag chair, a couch facing the television and stacks upon stacks of shelves on either side of the television.
They carry an assorted number of things, from little knick-knacks to pictures but mostly they are a merging of CDs and books. There are a few DVDs that look worn out by the number of times they’ve been used -Dead Poets Society, Avatar, Inception, all 7 Harry Potter movies- but they do not compare to Arthur’s books. If his DVD list wasn’t enough, the books Arthur has is truly showing he’s a man after his heart.
Not all his favorites are here, there’s no Jonathan Safran Foer or Ernest Hemingway and there’s only one Neil Gaiman book but Arthur makes it up by having a vast collection of literary fictions and fantasy series and even the How to Write Science Fiction and Fantasy, a handbook for sci-fi writers by sci-fi writers, like Isaac Asimov and Orson Scott Card.
Merlin likes Arthur for Arthur, for being an arrogant prat and a sweet guy at the same time, for being honorable and stubborn, for being amazing in bed and for liking him back. But he fears he’s beginning to fall for him because of his collection of popular culture.
“Hey,” Arthur steps into the room, his arms wrapping themselves around Merlin.
“You weren’t kidding about the poetry,” Merlin says. “I mean, EE Cummings, TS Eliot, Walt Whitman. I never pegged you for much of a poetry kind of guy.”
“I try to dabble in beautiful things. Poetry’s one of them, obviously,” Arthur turns him around by the waist, “so are you.”
“Arthur-”
“I want to avoid this conversation later, okay? So let’s just get this over with. I’ve wanted to be with you for the longest time. Since you came out for me when we were in the bar.”
“Since March? That’s three months!”
“You don’t think anyone’s capable of pining for three months, do you?” Arthur quirks his eyebrows.
“Well, I know I am but…”
“The point is, it’s been a while. And I want you to know that this is real, at least to me. It’s not about sex, although it is a plus, it’s a real relationship. I haven’t had a stable one in a while and the only reason I waited three months before telling you was because I wanted to know you were worth it. Stupid me, of course.”
“You’re not stupid,” Merlin caresses his cheek, “why would you be stupid?”
“Because I should’ve known you were worth it from the start.”
It’s like looking back on the road that you’ve driven through for years. He’s not under the stress of driving. The swerves and turns are entirely at the fault of someone else and he’s in the relief of the back seat. He’s free to eat his Chinese take-out with both of his hands occupied on his meal and see how his toes curl in content and look back on what’s behind him.
Always forward, that was what he always thought when he was driving, but, no, this time, there is a freedom, a change starting in his mind, between the brown pillows he’s meaning to change at the back of him and the floor that contains ages of dust and debris and dreadful things. He’s free to see the trees, that are beautiful, and the buildings, that aren’t just gray and concrete after all, but holding some kind of architectural beauty in their lines and 90 degree angles.
He’s free in the backseat and, most importantly, he’s not there alone.
No, his feet are pressing against Arthur’s side and he’s looking at him like he’s every answer to every crossword puzzle in the world and all he wants to do is study every crevice of him for his words and the relief one feels when one finishes a crossword. And Merlin loves this feeling of being looked at because no one’s looked at him like that. Ever.
Arthur’s eyes are a welcome intrusion, one Merlin’s been waiting for. Merlin’s been building up bricks and bricks his entire life because he always thought no one would have eyes like that and no one would use them to look at him. But, here, in this metaphorical backseat where he can see everything, they’re slowly stripping away.
First revealing Arthur’s hair, the blonde grassland of a thing, then his full mouth that smiles at him knowingly, his neck that is decorated with bruises of passion and his nose, that crinkles adorably and, then, finally, his eyes.
Merlin sounds like a lunatic, he knows, a lovesick lunatic who’s only been a relationship that has a lifespan of a newborn baby that smells of new hope and promise, but Arthur makes him feel like this. And that’s alright.
It’s alright to feel like a sap and a cheeseball because they’re an ‘us’ now and he has every right to be a big ball of cheese for him. Every. Right.
Merlin didn’t want to leave Arthur’s flat, as if he thought that if he left their wonderful solitude, their bubble would burst and everything they’ve worked on for the past few hours wouldn’t matter once he stepped out. Silly thought, silly Merlin.
But, of course, once he reached his own flat, he realizes he didn’t want to leave for another reason: facing Morgana and Leon. It would be like facing your parents after being caught making out with someone behind the lockers during prom night. It’s not going to be one of his glorifying moments, of course, but he has to deal.
Merlin braves going through the door because he knows what time it is. Eleven o’clock to normal Brits but, to Morgana and Leon, it means Saturday morning cartoons, celebrated with bowls of cereal and cuddling on the couch. Merlin usually looks forward for these kinds of Saturdays but he’s already been fed and he and Arthur certainly did more than cuddle.
He enters the flat slowly, already drawing up a scenario in his head.
He wonders if Morgana would give him one of her razor sharp looks that stab him right in the front but, in the end, stand up and give him a hug and congratulate him. Leon probably would be the approving kind of dad, because he was the one Merlin talked to, and those kinds of dads always wanted their kid to be happy, regardless of the fact of whether or not they told them.
But, ultimately, they would smile and shake hands and go back to their island on the couch, soaking up the sunshine of artificial light on a bland afternoon, as if fucking Arthur was just some big accomplishment that deserved a medal and a plaque to hang on the bedroom wall.
But, no, they’re stationary on their couch; limbs intertwined together like every part of her complemented every other part of him. They’ve abandoned their bowls but not their cartoons, like they haven’t since they were children. Merlin wonders if they even notice he came in, as he takes off his coat to reveal his t-shirt, that still smells like Arthur - like cinnamon, worn poetry and stupidity.
“Uh, hi,” Merlin says to feed the famine of words.
“So,” Morgana says into the room. “You fucked Arthur last night.”
“You big slut, good for you!” Leon pumps his fist in the air.
“Oh, god,” Merlin shakes his head.
This is going to be one of those embarrassing moments where he will, one day, look back on and wonder why the hell he was friends with these people in the first place.
“We’re really happy for you, really, we are. We’ve been shipping you guys since day one. I think some of us even made a bet pool about when you would finally stop being such dickheads and fuck already,” Morgana says as Leon laughs in the background.
“Sweet Jesus,” Merlin mutters under his breath.
“We even have a ship name. Wait for it. Are you at the edge of your seat? Are you? You better be,” Leon says giddily. “Merthur.”
“It sounds like a cat disease,” Merlin says. He walks over and sits down on the table, across from them.
“I’m appalled, Merlin. It wasn’t supposed to be like a cat. More like a unicorn. You know, because you’re gay and all.”
“Yeah, I got it, Leon.”
“Listen, though, we really are happy for you. You and Arthur, it’s been a long time coming,” Leon says with such sincerity it almost melts his heart. “We’re happy if you’re happy, that is. We’re not gonna tease you all the time.”
“You guys had the talk?” Morgana asks as Leon lowers the volume of the television.
“Jeez, the talk? We’re in our twenties, grown men, what’s next? Are you going to ask if we used protection?” Merlin asks, aghast at his friends and their joking manner.
“Why not? I mean, do you really think either of your flats is suitable to raise a baby in? Merlin,” Morgana puts on her best poker face, “we don’t want you to look fat and disgusting.”
“At the rate you all are feeding me, I might as well be,” Merlin says. Pause. “But, yeah, I’m happy. I dunno what I feel but I’m steering towards happy. I’m gonna go change my clothes just, thanks.”
As he stands up to go to his room, he can clearly hear Morgana shouting out, “Merthur for the win!”
Merlin hasn’t been in a relationship in a while, a fully functioning one, not like the one he had with Gwaine, so he doesn’t know how to feel. He spends the day with Leon and Morgana because Arthur says he has to work for the day but he’ll come by in the evening and they’ll spend the night together.
So Merlin just sits there in their flat, not knowing what to feel. Merlin doesn’t want to think too much of this, because there is no way Arthur will come back and say that this morning and most of last night was a mistake or wondering if he will come back at all. Because they kissed and fucked and read poetry for each other and proclaimed that they are, in fact, boyfriends.
It’s like a loop, thinking about this. Thinking about this makes him not want to think about this which makes him feel depressed. At this rate, when Arthur came back, he’d be nothing like he was this morning. He’ll wonder why he’s even his boyfriend.
For the sake of the future of his relationship that he must stop over thinking about, he leaves the flat. Leon and Morgana are fine with it, probably because they’re sick of seeing him moping around the couch or, when he’s not doing that, pacing.
“I’m going out,” Merlin finally says.
“Good,” Leon and Morgana answer simultaneously.
They don’t even ask where he’s going. Sometimes, they have been such parental figures that he forgets to stop thinking about them about them as his honorary mum and dad and start thinking about them as friends. Suddenly, with that realization tapped into his head, he knows where to go.
The hospital, at least on his end, is always very spacey. It’s not crowded, there’s a few hurried footsteps around them but, overall, it’s as calm as a coffee shop. There might as well be some guy with an acoustic guitar strumming a soft, mellow tune at the waiting area near the vending machines at this rate.
He doesn’t know about the rest of the hospital, though, where patients are actually dying and there’s a stench of blood and possible death around. Maybe there are children screaming and sounds of stifled moans as a syringe enters a patient’s arm and the doctors will be frantic and they won’t smile.
Suddenly, Merlin imagines himself there, in the busy part of the hospital. He imagines a patient, a little girl, probably named Charlene, and she’s crying. She’s strong so she doesn’t scream when they wheel her away. The doctors look at her like she’s just another number, another thing to check off their list.
For a moment, Merlin feels some kind of odd melancholy for this fictional little girl, the kind that always takes over his heart whenever he comes to this hospital.
Before he goes to the room, he stops by Gaius’s office. The old man looks withered and, sometimes, when he hugs him, he smells like age-old secrets. But he’s still here because he’s still needed. Gaius’s office is a comfort, it always has been.
There’s a big oak table in the middle of the room, occupying a lamp, photos and various knick-knacks as a two chairs are perched in front of it. There’s a couch to his right, right under the window streaming in lines of light from the outside world. But what he loves the most about this place is the books.
As always, to Merlin, books have been a source of comfort. He never really trusted anyone without one. It’s lucky his boyfriend -he has a boyfriend now, he has a boyfriend- is just as a reader as he is.
“Merlin!” Gaius says joyously when he looked up.
“Hi, Gaius,” Merlin can’t help but smile at the sight of this man.
Gaius was the one who introduced Merlin to some of his favourite books. Merlin had been reading before that but only what others read. Those best-sellers and the ones that always got the best reviews in the papers. Up until he was about thirteen, he didn’t even know what literary fiction actually meant and, now, he can safely say he peruses that section of every bookstore first before wandering into previously-charted waters.
The old man comes round and gives him a hug, one of those nice, warm hugs, like tea in the afternoon. “Visiting, I presume?” he asks.
“Yes, it’s been a while. I’ve been sort of living in my own world lately. I need to remind myself of the amazing people I know,” Merlin sits down on one of the chairs.
“Ryan’s told me you came round to visit him a few weeks ago. From what he’s told me, you are absolutely besotted,” Gaius smirks.
“Well, he never could keep a secret very well,” Merlin shrugs.
“If you want to keep it a secret for a little while longer, it’ll be fine with me. I just want you to be careful, my boy, and whoever this young man is, he needs to take care of you,” Gaius says. That’s what he loves about Gaius sometimes: he cares far too much.
“Thank you and I would. I’d like to stay in this little bubble for as long as I can. You understand, right, Gaius?”
“Of course I do,” he nods. He rummages through his cupboards and pulls out a few thick books. “Now, which one would you like first?”
Merlin looks through them and holds up a very old, battered copy of Dialogues concerning Natural Religion (David Hume, 1779) and says, “I’ve already read this.”
“Perhaps, but I found this unique copy at a second-hand bookshop in downtown London last week. Some old loon had it and he wrote fascinating thoughts in the margins. I do love it when the mad and insane put their thoughts into writing, don’t you?”
“And this?” Merlin holds up another book, not so thick, not old -modern age, in fact- with an alluring cover.
“Move Under Ground, Nick Mamatas. It’s worth a read,” Gaius nods. Merlin turns the book around and reads the synopsis, immediately taken in.
“Listen, I should go. I’m sort of in a hurry,” Merlin can’t help but apologize. He wants to stay here a little while longer and peruse all the books Gaius can give him and let him tell stories and serve him tea. Maybe next time. Next time, when he’s read an old loon’s thoughts inside the margins of a philosophy work and read the Beats’ adventure.
“Of course, my boy,” Gaius nods because he understands. Somehow, he always seems to understand. “Don’t be a stranger, yes?”
“To you? Never,” he smiles. He really should come around more often.
He leaves the office and turns to his left, and outside into the world. A few more paces, that’s it. It hasn’t changed. In all his lifetimes and months here, the only thing that has changed is the amount of light beaming down at him, bright and dark and all things in between.
There’s still a eeriness that passes through him, like he’s missing something, something he doesn’t know, a blank he’s missed in the crossword puzzle like it’s not L-O-E at all, it’s L-O-V-E and he’s got it all wrong. There’s still she and him, like it’s always come down to.
He sits down on the ground, one more thing left unchanged, along with the movement of his fingers touching her headstone. There are some things that should be left alone, sacred acts of a life that should never be touched, like this one. Like Merlin leaning forward and saying with the most gentle tone he can manage, “Hi, Mum.”
A naiveté crashes through him every time he comes here: wishing that his mother would just wake up for the first time since she fell asleep during a cold, January night on an icy road and a light blinking from afar. He supposes it’s the same for everyone losing loved ones but he feels it more. Merlin always feels everything more.
“You’ll be happy to know that I found someone, Mum. You always said I should. You always said I was much too lonely and fictional characters weren’t actually going to pop out and marry me and take care of me. But, guess what, Mum? This guy? He’s real. Sometimes I can’t believe it but he’s real and I think he’s mine,” Merlin gushes because this moment can only truly be his if it’s his mum’s, as well.
“I’ve been worried. It’s easy to do for me even if there hasn’t been enough lifespan in our relationship to worry about anything. I worry too much but then I worry about not being worried. I worry whenever someone I know boards a plane, afraid it’s going to crash, I worry whenever someone offers some part of their life to me because how am I supposed to pay them back? I worry more for others than I do myself. But now? I worry about myself.
“Because I deserve this. Don’t I? Yes, of course I do. I deserve to be happy and to be loved after such a long time. Loneliness is harder to do when you’re surrounded by love. Now, Arthur, he could really love me. I worry if I can’t see that. I am in the way of myself being happy.”
His mum, silent as ever, would probably say something about how poetic her son is, and backs up all his points like her own personal thesis. You worry because you are you, you deserve to be happy because you have been sad, loving means being happy because being happy means you’re loved.
Once again, words of fiction reassure him. They strap across him like a straight jacket and make him feel safe in his insane little bubble.
The phone rings at exactly the right time, when his heart has swelled up to the point he cannot keep it in any longer and he’s taken in the chance to be happy.
“Hi, Arthur,” he smiles into the phone, all the while looking at his mother, who loves him through sleep and death. “Yeah, lunch right now sounds great.”
They’re at a small café nearby Arthur’s flat, which sort of begs the question of why they’re there instead of in the comfort of a familiar couch and no sound of busyness bustling around them. Then the food comes around in the form of brilliant-smelling coffee and half a cheesecake and suddenly he can’t care less about having sex because this food is like sex in your mouth already.
There’s some kind of normalcy between them already. How Arthur kissed Merlin upon arriving, chastely, sweetly, as someone pets a cat they’ve had since childhood, one hand creeping to the small of his back, holding him in place and how nonchalantly Arthur took his hand when they sat down and stroked his warm flesh there.
“I thought you were working the whole day,” Merlin says, digging into his piece of the cake, not really wanting to let go of Arthur so he keeps his fingers near his for a while.
“I think I deserve a lunch break with my boyfriend,” Arthur smirks. Boyfriend, there’s that word again; the word that makes him feel little giddy feelings he can’t say he’s ashamed of. “Now, how was your day?”
“My day was you, primarily. I went to go visit my mum, to clear things up a bit,” Merlin answers.
“Clear what things?”
“It’s stupid and it’s fine now. I’m happy,” Merlin smiles.
“What made you unhappy?” Arthur is beginning to worry.
Well, they always said that honesty was the best policy in a relationship, right? “I was worried about us. Well, actually, worried about me handling us. I had to think it through. I’ve thought it through and I want to us to be an us. I want to be happy and you can make me happy and likewise.”
“You’re right, Merlin, that is stupid,” Arthur says. “You shouldn’t worry about us. I really like you and I don’t want to screw this up. I want us to be the gay couple of the year because we’re so nauseating we make people throw up. I want us to look satisfied all the time because, really, we’ve just had dirty loo sex in every restaurant we stop by. I want us to be best friends that love each other, yeah?”
Merlin’s heart glows, it makes little beeping sounds like it’s calling out to Arthur’s. And it stops doing that once Arthur takes his hand in his again. Merlin’s heart stops beeping because it’s found another heart that could be there and intertwine itself into his veins and arteries until they won’t know what it felt like before they joined in holy cardiac matrimony.
“Yeah,” Merlin nods.
“Good,” Arthur looks satisfied with himself before bringing Merlin’s hand up to his mouth to kiss the knuckles.
“The dirty loo sex thing, though,” Merlin says. “Does that include this restaurant, as well?”
Merlin finds out, while his head is thrown back against the cubicle door, hands in Arthur’s hair as he begins sucking Merlin’s coherent thoughts through his cock, yes, yes it does.
PART FOUR
Merlin finds Leon sprawled on the couch with his self-proclaimed lazy jeans and a dirty t-shirt, chewing on some gummy.
“I thought Morgana banned those gummies in this flat,” Merlin says and plops down next to Leon on the couch.
“It’s not my fault they taste like sex,” Leon shrugs.
“The very reason she banned them,” Merlin gives a small laugh. “What’re you doing home so early?”
“Boss cut us out early,” Leon says matter-of-factly. “Why do you smell like matrimony?”
“Gwen and Lance invited me to go to Lance’s tux fitting.”
“Brilliant,” Leon nods and he sinks back into his seat, eating those gummies like nobody’s business and watching television (which has now reverted back to good old English) while Merlin just sits there next to him, thinking.
He doesn’t think for long, though (neither Leon nor Morgana ever let him) because Leon’s looking at him like he’s an endangered pet and he’s worried about the survival of his species. Leon lowers the volume and asks, “Alright, what’s wrong?”
Merlin’s answers in his head seem futile because Leon really does know him too well and he’s just sure that the replies, “Nothing,” or a variation of it will never suffice. And, besides, he was going to tell him and Morgana, anyway.
“Arthur kissed me.”
“Brilliant.”
“And then he disappeared.”
“Not so brilliant.”
“Damn straight,” Merlin sighs, taking one of the gummies and popping one into his mouth.
“I never pegged you for one of those guys who worry about something fickle like a kiss,” Leon says.
“Yeah, neither did I,” Merlin nods, smiling at him. “Funny how people change you, eh?”
“Fucking hilarious, mate,” he laughs.
“Tell me again how you told Morgana you liked her?” Merlin’s head lolls back in a comfortable position on the couch. Leon mimics the gesture and they look like kids, sharing candies and secrets.
“I was a slobbering mess; winter break during our first semester at uni. I came over to her at the bar and asked her out on a thousand dates. I said we’d kiss and fuck on the first and I’d tell her I loved her on the second and I’d ask her to marry me on the third and we’d spend the rest of our lives spending 997 dates.”
“I can’t believe she actually fell for that, though.”
“It’s only because I was charming and drunk and I was the only guy on campus who didn’t send her envelopes full of condoms,” Leon shrugs. “And, yeah, it was a surprise when she came into my class the next day and practically shouted that she was asking me out on a thousand and one dates. ‘Because the first one starts now’ she said. And she took my hand and gave the finger to the one of the boys who had given her condoms the day earlier. I failed that class but it was totally worth it.”
“Yeah, what’re you gonna do with Foreign Languages anyway?” Merlin huffed out. “When you have the language of love…”
“I knew that was coming.”
Leon burst out laughing, realizing just how corny he sounded. Merlin’s heard from their uni friends that Leon wasn’t this cheesy before he and Morgana got together but he wasn’t exactly happy enough to start skipping any time soon. Funny how people change you.
“We on the same planet there, mate?” Leon asks.
“Uhm, maybe,” Merlin says. “I think you just helped me.”
“Really?”
“Yeah, cos you might’ve been drunk and slobbering but at least you said it and Morgana asked you right back because you guys liked each other.”
“Yes…”
“And I might’ve been hooked up to an IV and half-asleep when he kissed me but he kissed me…” Merlin’s sentence drifts away into his thoughts as half-formed bubbles start appearing in front of him like some cartoon. “I know what to do.”
“Okay, good. Care to share?” Leon asks.
“I think we’ll just wait until Gwen and Lance’s dinner party this weekend.”
“But that’s days away! The suspense, Merlin! WHY?”
“It makes for a good thriller movie and, besides, it’s just three days away. You’ll probably be spending most of that being nostalgic with Morgana and drinking with your beer buddies.”
“You sound jealous,” Leon pouts.
“Cos you’ve got a great significant other and you have more than just a handful of friends? Always jealous of you, mate,” Merlin says sadly.
Leon pulls him in for a hug and then pulls out another gummy for him.
Wave of Walls - Casey Shea
Merlin doesn’t bother with the insecurities that Arthur might not show up because he knows he will. Because Arthur’s an honourable person and he loves Gwen and Lance and, for the most part, tonight will never be about Merlin.
So he turns up at Gwen and Lance’s flat with Morgana and Leon, dressed in a nice ensemble (black jeans and a blue shirt) because, contrary to popular belief, he has nothing against dressing up nice, especially if it’s for Gwen and Lance.
He hugs them both and Gwen shoots him a knowing smile when she pulls away. She passes him a drink and then points her eyes to the other side of the room. Amidst the other people and the balloons and the wine glasses, he sees him.
Arthur’s sitting down; talking to Percy who’s using his hands to talk animatedly while Arthur’s just there, nodding and laughing at the precise moment like he’s being controlled using a remote. Arthur tips his head back to take a sip of his drink but, instead, his eyes move away from the target and they land on Merlin.
That’s it, that’s the starting point. No backing away now, Emrys, because neither of them can pretend that it didn’t just happen.
Merlin gives the one-minute finger to Morgana and Leon and walks to them. “Hey, mate,” he says amicably to Percy.
Percy, who knows them all too well, doesn’t even bother to say hello back but, instead, makes a stupid excuse about how his booze is running out and he needs to get some more to function. It’s stupid, of course, because the only one who really needs alcohol to survive around here is Gwaine.
“Hi,” Merlin says, trying to be the steady one here.
“Hi,” Arthur answers back, his voice quivering like a guitar’s string after it’s been plucked.
“Let’s just jump into it, shall we?” Merlin comes closer, just in case Arthur’s not as comfortable with letting anyone else know about what could be happening as he is. “You kissed me.”
“Yeah, yeah I did,” Arthur nods, looking down at his hands.
“Why?”
“Because I liked you.”
“So, past tense then?” Merlin asks.
“No! No, of course not! Of course not past tense. I still do.” Merlin can see the clouds forming in Arthur’s eyes, like there’s a storm coming but Merlin’s not even going to go and get an umbrella, no he’s going to stay here and see how this all plans out.
“Well, good, because I like you, too. Present tense, let’s just get that straightened out,” Merlin pulls back, arms crossed.
Arthur looks at him like he’s grown an extra eye on his forehead and it’s most beautiful eye he’s ever seen. Maybe bluer than the sea, maybe it’s looking at him with all the things Merlin himself wants to say. In short, Arthur looks astounded, shocked, surprised and flustered all at the same time. How someone like him could portray that amount of emotion in the shortest period of time before that look disappeared is beyond him. Maybe he’s been underestimating Arthur.
“Hello, all!” Lance shouts cheerily into the room. “First of all, thanks to all of you for coming to celebrate mine and Gwen’s impending marriage. Second of all, would you please assemble in the dining room for your lunch? Okay, thanks, bye.”
As soon as Lance is finished, as if by cue, Gwen comes to them and asks them to go get the champagne from the kitchens. There’s a glint of mischievousness in her eyes. Of course. She doesn’t need them to actually get the champagne; she would probably get Gwaine to get it so she could have a quick job of it. No, she needs them to stand in a room together and talk it out. Merlin doesn’t know if he should feel good or bad about this.
Arthur and Merlin leave the living room and enter the kitchens of sparkly floors and high top cabinets, all alone. It’s like going to your first adolescent party, with boys and girls and even though you’ve been asking -nay, begging- your parents for you to go, you don’t find yourself that in time with the rest of the kids.
The one thing you wanted more than anything was turning out to be something you never wanted.
“I’m sorry,” Arthur says, his eyes filling in the regret.
“I know you are,” Merlin says, “but I don’t think that’s enough.”
“I’ve wanted to kiss you for the longest time,” Arthur says. “I regret doing it like that and running away afterwards. You don’t deserve that.”
“I deserve the best of you,” Merlin nods.
“You can have it,” Arthur steps forward, his face inches away from his and Merlin can smell his everything. Can smell the fabric of his clothes and the tell-tale of his mild intoxication and can feel his breath upon his. It’s the most intimate he’s felt in a long time, possibly his whole life.
“Thanks,” Merlin manages to say. “But I’d rather have everything.”
“Take it. For chrissakes, Merlin, please,” Arthur’s voice breaks a little and this is a first.
Merlin wants to take everything, like Arthur’s promised, and make sure that every nook and cranny of Arthur is perfectly kept and is being taken care of the way it should be. But he can’t, not now, because they’re in the kitchen and they’re being expected and he’s sure that the minute he leans in to kiss Arthur (on the lips, on the neck, anywhere, anywhere, he just wants to kiss him) someone will burst through the door and blush and say, “Oh, sorry,” and proceed to tell the entire dining room afterwards.
He’s selfish, he knows, but he wants this moment all for himself.
“What now?” Arthur asks.
“Let’s go back to the dining room and then politely excuse ourselves,” Merlin answers. “Then we’ll go to your place.”
“Yeah?” Arthur asks, his smirk reminding Merlin he’s dealing with Arthur Penn, who might be amazing and sensitive but he’s also still Arthur Penn, the arrogant prat.
“Yeah,” Merlin nods. He doesn’t kiss him but he does, however, link his fingers with his and, God, the feeling is overwhelming, just from that one touch. It’s like he’s been waiting for this for a long time, longer than he was even aware of. Like he made his mistakes and turned left just so he could be here, in this kitchen, with the palpable air around him. It’s almost as if he’s been waiting for Arthur forever.
So they leave the kitchen with the wine glasses and Gwaine yells out, “What the hell took so long?” because when it comes to Gwaine, you don’t mess with his alcohol. Lance has his eyebrow raised while Gwen pretty much looks as if Merlin just told her he and Arthur were going to elope to Canada and have copious amounts of gay sex and adopt little Cambodian babies.
But the way Arthur’s looking at him (oh, God, that look) and the way Merlin’s probably looking at Arthur -with half-lidded eyes, half conscious because of the things he’s thinking of doing right now and a smile that would envy all the puppies in the universe- is practically telling her anyway.
“Sorry, Gwen, I’ve got to go,” Merlin says to her. “Uh, work and stuff.”
“Of course, of course,” Gwen hugs him tightly. Merlin says goodbye to the others and go out of the door. Not five minutes later, Arthur follows the same gesture and he looks at him like he’s every bit of sunshine.
“Can I kiss you now?” is the first thing Arthur asks when they’re out of the building.
Technically, there’s nothing wrong with kissing now, they’re out of everyone’s eyes and only in each other’s but, no, not yet. At least, not in the way Arthur wants it to be. So Merlin leans in and plants his lips on Arthur’s neck. It’s an awkward thing, kissing someone’s neck like this, almost as if he’s looking for his vein and thinking of biting on to it like a vampire. But Arthur doesn’t seem to think so because his whole body goes rigid the moment Merlin does it and, fuck, did he just shiver?
Merlin laughs against his skin and Arthur just smacks him on the arm.
They enter Arthur’s car (because Merlin followed Morgana and Leon anyway) and they smile at each other, like they’re kids and they’re off to a crazy kind of road trip wherein there will be mix tapes and rebellious acts and enough sexual tension to make it a movie worth seeing. But they’re not, they’re not kids but the feeling stays. There is tension, after all, and silly actions can follow and Merlin can always make him a mix tape.
“Do you like poetry?” Arthur suddenly asks.
“Sometimes,” Merlin shrugs.
“The big trees on the other side of her, uh, him, uprooted; but you, cloudless boy, question of smoke, corn tassel; you were what the wind was making with illuminated leaves; behind the nocturnal mountains, white lily of conflagration; ah, I can say nothing! You were made of everything.”
“Pablo Neruda,” Merlin says and huffs out in disbelief. “Of course you can quote Neruda.”
“Surprised?” Arthur looks at him. “You don’t get what I’m trying to say, though, do you?”
“That I was made of everything? That your heart revolves like a crazy wheel? Or maybe that I cross above your heart without stopping?” Merlin asks absent-mindedly, his feet on the dash.
“All of the above, actually,” Arthur says fondly, which takes Merlin aback, more than it should. Because the feelings have been tossed out there but this, this is different, this is Arthur in himself, in other’s words. This is him showing Merlin just what he means to him in a way Merlin can understand better than any other way and, right now, Merlin’s heart can’t stop fluttering about.
“Arthur, I-”
“We’re here,” Arthur looks out the window.
Merlin follows him out and up the stairs. There’s that silence again, only this time he thinks he’s expected to make some sort of gesture, one to match Arthur’s, because Arthur has his hands in his pockets when all Merlin wants to do is hold them.
“P-poetry,” Merlin manages to stutter.
“What?”
“I’ve got a poem, too. My own, so please excuse the nonsense that comes through in between stanzas.”
“I’d be delighted to hear it.”
“I think I might just have to love you
Or else I’ll go insane
But if you don’t love me
You’re not one to blame
Cos I like long, romantic walks
But only to my laptop
And I-”
He’s cut off by a strong push until he’s against the wall and his breath knocked out of him. But he has no time to retrieve it back because Arthur’s replacing it with his own. And his words, his stupid, silly words are replaced by his lips.
Merlin moans against them because this is amazing. Arthur’s lips are soft and chapped and full of promises and Merlin’s actually fully awake to remember it. Because it’s all he wants to do. He wants to remember every curve of Arthur’s lips and how his tongue darts out to trace his bottom lip with it and how fervent and urgent it is, like they’re chasing time with their kisses.
He wants to remember, quite unashamedly, how he himself mutters, “Ngh,” when Arthur pulls back for a while to attack his neck and collarbone and how he positively melts and writhes because this is really fucking fantastic. And how Merlin starts to put his leg between Arthur’s and Arthur bites his lip and tips his head just so and it’s so tantalizing that he just wants to take a picture and have a wank to it whenever he wants to.
“Roses are red, violets are blue, screw poetry cos I’d rather fuck you,” Arthur says.
Merlin laughs and says, “What a fucking romantic.”
“Come on, come on, Merlin, come up,” Arthur practically jumps up and down and he kisses him after every syllable. Those sloppy kisses that nobody really remembers because they’re always followed by something bigger.
“Yeah, let’s go up,” Merlin says, matching his excitement.
Arthur reluctantly removes himself from Merlin’s body and, God, already he misses the warmth, and takes Merlin’s hand in his and leads him up the yellow brick road to somewhere Merlin’s hoped they’d be going when he woke up this morning. And all he can ask from the Wizard of Oz is, not a heart or a brain or a book with his name printed on it, but a requited love that will stay longer than most.
Merlin doesn’t get a chance to observe Arthur’s apartment because it was empty and without an owner when he first came here. He sees a flash of color before he’s tugged into the bedroom. Once they enter, Arthur pushes him, once again, against the wall but he doesn’t go for his lips this time. His fingers start trailing up the side of his legs, to his hips, and then to the hem of his shirt.
“Off,” Arthur instructs breathily.
Merlin does, unbuttons it, one by one, because Arthur’s not the only one who can do this. Although, after a while, Arthur’s not one for games and immediately takes off his own t-shirt and presses his naked skin against Merlin’s own. His hands reach his shoulder and, then, he sees it.
“You have a tattoo,” Arthur notes.
“It was a uni thing. Everyone got them. Peer pressure,” Merlin says.
“Never thought you’d be one to succumb to peer pressure, Emrys,” Arthur smiles and observes the tattoo. It’s nothing much, no roses or barb wires, just the words ‘I am a soul, I have a body’ with quote marks.
“CS Lewis or a variation thereof,” Arthur says, kissing the words. “Tattoos on you are gorgeous.”
“Shut up and kiss me,” Merlin hisses impatiently.
There’s absolutely no train of thought coherent enough to pass as words as Arthur unceremoniously puts him on the bed and then scoots up to him, licking up his chest that makes his toes curl and does other things to his nether regions.
Arthur sits up for a bit and Merlin sees the low slung of his jeans and, god, he can barely get his clothes off fast enough because his hipbones are showing and that piece of skin, the way it juts out like invitation is enough to put his thought into a frenzy. He starts undoing his trousers and Arthur pulls them off him, just so he can continue his assault on him.
“No, jeans off, jeans off sir,” Merlin says, no time for complete sentences. Somehow, in some show of strength, he manages to flip them over so that he’s on top. He slowly trails down Arthur’s chest and kisses his hipbones, one on his left, one on the left and, by this time, Arthur’s head is thrown back and breathing heavily.
Merlin picks at the button of his jeans, still kissing down the treasure trail, and hooks his fingers on the ends of his jeans and pants. He pulls them down slowly and is greeted by a very happy cock in his face. Arthur looks down at him and he’s expecting and flustered and, god, if he didn’t want to fuck him before, he does now.
Slowly, he licks the stripe up the underside of his cock that makes Arthur shiver under him. he licks the tip and he slides his mouth up the length, all the way to the base (“Oh my god,” Arthur curses under his breath) and all Merlin can do is smirk a little with a cock in his mouth, pulling back to lick around the head before sucking him again. He opens his mouth wide and sucks it in, making sure to look up at Arthur as he twists his tongue around his cock, just to see his face.
His hands come up to hold him in place at his hips. Arthur has his back arched and his head is thrown back, exposing the long line of his neck to him. Arthur looks down at him, biting his lips, fuckfuckfuck. He reaches down and runs his hands in Merlin’s hair and tugs.
“Fuck, M,” Arthur breathes out and shifts his body to get a better angle of him.
Merlin takes this as a form of encouragement and sucks harder, fingers digging into Arthur’s hips, his tongue swirling the head of the cock. He reaches up his hand to wrap his fingers around Arthur’s cock and stroke him there. Arthur is making those soft, gasping noises as he fucks Merlin’s mouth and his own cock is being neglected but that’s alright. Because he’s making Arthur make those noises, this is all because of him.
“Stop,” Arthur says.
“What?”
“Stop. I don’t want to come like this, just please, fuck, please let me fuck you,” Arthur says desperately. “Let me fuck you.”
“I’m not gonna last long, hurry up, you fucker,” Merlin says as he climbs up on top of him.
For a moment, all the warmth and heat is lost as Arthur leaves him to pour a generous amount of lube onto his fingers. He doesn’t even bother warning him before he plunges two fingers, knuckle deep, into Merlin’s hole. He feels his breath knocked out of him and he can’t help the small whimper than escapes his mouth as he feels himself opening for Arthur, as he pushes back against his fingers.
“Slut,” Arthur tells him.
“Don’t curr,” Merlin slurs to him as he laughs before adding a third finger. He twists his wrist just so and he almost blacks out. The yelp that escapes him is inevitable as he does it again because it reaches that spot in him; it’s too much, god, it’s just too much. But he can’t help but want more.
Almost in lightning speed, Arthur pulls his fingers from him and quickly rolls on a condom, spreading more lube on his cock before leaning forward, giving him a small kiss at the side of his neck and pushing into him.
Fuck.
Merlin feels himself groan like a wanton slut and he’s never cared less because he’s being stretched wide open, in a delicious sort of way and pushing back, and it’s amazing. There’s a light behind his eyes as Arthur starts thrusting into him.
He raises his legs and his knees grip as he allows Arthur to sink in fully inside and fuck, he’ll never get tired of this. Never.
Arthur braces himself and starts fucking into him in short and fast and hard and deep thrusts, they’re both too desperate for this first time but that’s okay. There will be plenty of other times. Plenty.
“Come on, Merlin, come on,” Arthur reaches in between them to mercilessly strip Merlin’s cock in time with his thrusts.
He can feel it, that tension building and it just takes one more stroke from Arthur to set him off. There it is, that bliss in such frenzy and it feels amazing. Arthur keeps going but he’s close and Merlin pulls him in closer by his knees, pulling him deeper until Arthur gasps and curses one last time. His hips stutter and, in this moment, he still has time to lean down and crush his lips against Merlin, and then he’s right there with him.
The light is blinding. Merlin blinks his eyes, trying to get it away from his pupils but the effort is futile because once he blinks it open, the light reaches in and wakes him up. He doesn’t regret it, though, because when he wakes up, he hears the sheets crunch next to him and the figure of a moving body. The one he’s spent most of yesterday exploring.
Arthur’s awake, though, fully dressed and listening to his Walkman but that doesn’t ruin the sentiment. Arthur’s here, next to him, and, when he got up to wash his face and look at himself in the mirror, he decided not to leave.
“Morning,” Arthur smiles at him and takes out his earphones. He comes back to a sleeping position, hands on his stomach and looking at Merlin.
Merlin means to say good morning, too, but it comes out as, “Mngh.”
“That English?”
“It could be. Could be a different language. I think I just invented a different language before breakfast.”
“What an accomplishment.”
Arthur stretches his body up and kisses Merlin on the nose, probably since he’s not a big fan of morning breath. “I like you.”
“I like you, too,” Merlin smiles, in spite of himself.
His phone beeps and Merlin has to come out of his daze to see what kind of arsehole is texting him at this time of morning. “Your phone’s been beeping a lot, you know. Kind of annoying.”
“I may have a creepy stalker,” Merlin sits upright.
“Oh, dear, I wanted that job,” Arthur says. He sits cross-legged in front of Merlin, his hands on his toes.
His phone is full of text messages. From Morgana.
Where the fuck did you go?
Arthur’s gone, as well
Holy hell, you and Arthur are together aren’t you?
You didn’t tell me?
You told Leon of your epiphany, apparently. I hate you forever.
Well, unless you tell me how wonderful Arthur arse is, that is, then I’ll forgive you. Leon’s watching me text this and I have now promised him sex when we get home.
Call me, you bastard.
“Morgana’s crazy,” Merlin states.
“Didn’t we always know that?” Arthur laughs, his hands coming inside of Merlin’s sheets and wrapping around his foot, slowly massaging him.
“What do we tell them, though?” Merlin asks, more worried than he thought he would be.
“That, in that moment, I swear, we were infinite…”
“Don’t you dare.”
“We tell them we like each other and if they don’t like that, then we won’t give a damn about it. Cos I’m pretty happy right now, aren’t you?”
“Of course I am,” Merlin looks to him. “And what, pray tell, do we tell ourselves?”
Arthur stops what he’s doing and straddles Merlin’s hips, his knees tight against his waist as he smiles at him. He leans down and kisses Merlin on the lips, to which he responds to mildly but then he trails those little butterflies with his lips on his jaw and his neck and that space below his ear and Merlin’s toes curl.
“I believe we can tell each other we now have very attractive boyfriends,” Arthur’s laugh reverberates every nerve in him and, oh God, this man is going to end him.
The phone beeps again.
Arthur sighs, his head dropping, his forehead against Merlin’s. “Give me the phone, Merlin,” he says, sitting up.
Merlin does so and Arthur reads out Morgana’s latest message. “You’re fucking Arthur, aren’t you?”
Arthur’s fingers move to text back. “Yes, he is.”
“Arthur!” Merlin reaches up.
“There, I’ve told them. See, no need to get Stephen Chobsky involved,” Arthur throws the phone and resumes his original position. “Now, shut up, I’m going to suck you off.”
“And after that, I’m going to fuck you and then we’re gonna have breakfast,” Merlin pulls him up for a kiss. “Or maybe I’ll fuck you over the breakfast table.”
“Unf, Merlin, just,” Arthur licks Merlin’s lips, “unff.”
Good Morning - Message to Bears
After breakfast (and the promised fuck) Arthur takes a shower, one Merlin declines because he decides shower sex is something they should do some other time and he wants to see Arthur’s flat.
It’s shrunk in size, if that means any sense, probably because of all the space being occupied by shelves and a couch and a couple of chairs. The living room has a foosball table, a beanbag chair, a couch facing the television and stacks upon stacks of shelves on either side of the television.
They carry an assorted number of things, from little knick-knacks to pictures but mostly they are a merging of CDs and books. There are a few DVDs that look worn out by the number of times they’ve been used -Dead Poets Society, Avatar, Inception, all 7 Harry Potter movies- but they do not compare to Arthur’s books. If his DVD list wasn’t enough, the books Arthur has is truly showing he’s a man after his heart.
Not all his favorites are here, there’s no Jonathan Safran Foer or Ernest Hemingway and there’s only one Neil Gaiman book but Arthur makes it up by having a vast collection of literary fictions and fantasy series and even the How to Write Science Fiction and Fantasy, a handbook for sci-fi writers by sci-fi writers, like Isaac Asimov and Orson Scott Card.
Merlin likes Arthur for Arthur, for being an arrogant prat and a sweet guy at the same time, for being honorable and stubborn, for being amazing in bed and for liking him back. But he fears he’s beginning to fall for him because of his collection of popular culture.
“Hey,” Arthur steps into the room, his arms wrapping themselves around Merlin.
“You weren’t kidding about the poetry,” Merlin says. “I mean, EE Cummings, TS Eliot, Walt Whitman. I never pegged you for much of a poetry kind of guy.”
“I try to dabble in beautiful things. Poetry’s one of them, obviously,” Arthur turns him around by the waist, “so are you.”
“Arthur-”
“I want to avoid this conversation later, okay? So let’s just get this over with. I’ve wanted to be with you for the longest time. Since you came out for me when we were in the bar.”
“Since March? That’s three months!”
“You don’t think anyone’s capable of pining for three months, do you?” Arthur quirks his eyebrows.
“Well, I know I am but…”
“The point is, it’s been a while. And I want you to know that this is real, at least to me. It’s not about sex, although it is a plus, it’s a real relationship. I haven’t had a stable one in a while and the only reason I waited three months before telling you was because I wanted to know you were worth it. Stupid me, of course.”
“You’re not stupid,” Merlin caresses his cheek, “why would you be stupid?”
“Because I should’ve known you were worth it from the start.”
It’s like looking back on the road that you’ve driven through for years. He’s not under the stress of driving. The swerves and turns are entirely at the fault of someone else and he’s in the relief of the back seat. He’s free to eat his Chinese take-out with both of his hands occupied on his meal and see how his toes curl in content and look back on what’s behind him.
Always forward, that was what he always thought when he was driving, but, no, this time, there is a freedom, a change starting in his mind, between the brown pillows he’s meaning to change at the back of him and the floor that contains ages of dust and debris and dreadful things. He’s free to see the trees, that are beautiful, and the buildings, that aren’t just gray and concrete after all, but holding some kind of architectural beauty in their lines and 90 degree angles.
He’s free in the backseat and, most importantly, he’s not there alone.
No, his feet are pressing against Arthur’s side and he’s looking at him like he’s every answer to every crossword puzzle in the world and all he wants to do is study every crevice of him for his words and the relief one feels when one finishes a crossword. And Merlin loves this feeling of being looked at because no one’s looked at him like that. Ever.
Arthur’s eyes are a welcome intrusion, one Merlin’s been waiting for. Merlin’s been building up bricks and bricks his entire life because he always thought no one would have eyes like that and no one would use them to look at him. But, here, in this metaphorical backseat where he can see everything, they’re slowly stripping away.
First revealing Arthur’s hair, the blonde grassland of a thing, then his full mouth that smiles at him knowingly, his neck that is decorated with bruises of passion and his nose, that crinkles adorably and, then, finally, his eyes.
Merlin sounds like a lunatic, he knows, a lovesick lunatic who’s only been a relationship that has a lifespan of a newborn baby that smells of new hope and promise, but Arthur makes him feel like this. And that’s alright.
It’s alright to feel like a sap and a cheeseball because they’re an ‘us’ now and he has every right to be a big ball of cheese for him. Every. Right.
Merlin didn’t want to leave Arthur’s flat, as if he thought that if he left their wonderful solitude, their bubble would burst and everything they’ve worked on for the past few hours wouldn’t matter once he stepped out. Silly thought, silly Merlin.
But, of course, once he reached his own flat, he realizes he didn’t want to leave for another reason: facing Morgana and Leon. It would be like facing your parents after being caught making out with someone behind the lockers during prom night. It’s not going to be one of his glorifying moments, of course, but he has to deal.
Merlin braves going through the door because he knows what time it is. Eleven o’clock to normal Brits but, to Morgana and Leon, it means Saturday morning cartoons, celebrated with bowls of cereal and cuddling on the couch. Merlin usually looks forward for these kinds of Saturdays but he’s already been fed and he and Arthur certainly did more than cuddle.
He enters the flat slowly, already drawing up a scenario in his head.
He wonders if Morgana would give him one of her razor sharp looks that stab him right in the front but, in the end, stand up and give him a hug and congratulate him. Leon probably would be the approving kind of dad, because he was the one Merlin talked to, and those kinds of dads always wanted their kid to be happy, regardless of the fact of whether or not they told them.
But, ultimately, they would smile and shake hands and go back to their island on the couch, soaking up the sunshine of artificial light on a bland afternoon, as if fucking Arthur was just some big accomplishment that deserved a medal and a plaque to hang on the bedroom wall.
But, no, they’re stationary on their couch; limbs intertwined together like every part of her complemented every other part of him. They’ve abandoned their bowls but not their cartoons, like they haven’t since they were children. Merlin wonders if they even notice he came in, as he takes off his coat to reveal his t-shirt, that still smells like Arthur - like cinnamon, worn poetry and stupidity.
“Uh, hi,” Merlin says to feed the famine of words.
“So,” Morgana says into the room. “You fucked Arthur last night.”
“You big slut, good for you!” Leon pumps his fist in the air.
“Oh, god,” Merlin shakes his head.
This is going to be one of those embarrassing moments where he will, one day, look back on and wonder why the hell he was friends with these people in the first place.
“We’re really happy for you, really, we are. We’ve been shipping you guys since day one. I think some of us even made a bet pool about when you would finally stop being such dickheads and fuck already,” Morgana says as Leon laughs in the background.
“Sweet Jesus,” Merlin mutters under his breath.
“We even have a ship name. Wait for it. Are you at the edge of your seat? Are you? You better be,” Leon says giddily. “Merthur.”
“It sounds like a cat disease,” Merlin says. He walks over and sits down on the table, across from them.
“I’m appalled, Merlin. It wasn’t supposed to be like a cat. More like a unicorn. You know, because you’re gay and all.”
“Yeah, I got it, Leon.”
“Listen, though, we really are happy for you. You and Arthur, it’s been a long time coming,” Leon says with such sincerity it almost melts his heart. “We’re happy if you’re happy, that is. We’re not gonna tease you all the time.”
“You guys had the talk?” Morgana asks as Leon lowers the volume of the television.
“Jeez, the talk? We’re in our twenties, grown men, what’s next? Are you going to ask if we used protection?” Merlin asks, aghast at his friends and their joking manner.
“Why not? I mean, do you really think either of your flats is suitable to raise a baby in? Merlin,” Morgana puts on her best poker face, “we don’t want you to look fat and disgusting.”
“At the rate you all are feeding me, I might as well be,” Merlin says. Pause. “But, yeah, I’m happy. I dunno what I feel but I’m steering towards happy. I’m gonna go change my clothes just, thanks.”
As he stands up to go to his room, he can clearly hear Morgana shouting out, “Merthur for the win!”
Merlin hasn’t been in a relationship in a while, a fully functioning one, not like the one he had with Gwaine, so he doesn’t know how to feel. He spends the day with Leon and Morgana because Arthur says he has to work for the day but he’ll come by in the evening and they’ll spend the night together.
So Merlin just sits there in their flat, not knowing what to feel. Merlin doesn’t want to think too much of this, because there is no way Arthur will come back and say that this morning and most of last night was a mistake or wondering if he will come back at all. Because they kissed and fucked and read poetry for each other and proclaimed that they are, in fact, boyfriends.
It’s like a loop, thinking about this. Thinking about this makes him not want to think about this which makes him feel depressed. At this rate, when Arthur came back, he’d be nothing like he was this morning. He’ll wonder why he’s even his boyfriend.
For the sake of the future of his relationship that he must stop over thinking about, he leaves the flat. Leon and Morgana are fine with it, probably because they’re sick of seeing him moping around the couch or, when he’s not doing that, pacing.
“I’m going out,” Merlin finally says.
“Good,” Leon and Morgana answer simultaneously.
They don’t even ask where he’s going. Sometimes, they have been such parental figures that he forgets to stop thinking about them about them as his honorary mum and dad and start thinking about them as friends. Suddenly, with that realization tapped into his head, he knows where to go.
The hospital, at least on his end, is always very spacey. It’s not crowded, there’s a few hurried footsteps around them but, overall, it’s as calm as a coffee shop. There might as well be some guy with an acoustic guitar strumming a soft, mellow tune at the waiting area near the vending machines at this rate.
He doesn’t know about the rest of the hospital, though, where patients are actually dying and there’s a stench of blood and possible death around. Maybe there are children screaming and sounds of stifled moans as a syringe enters a patient’s arm and the doctors will be frantic and they won’t smile.
Suddenly, Merlin imagines himself there, in the busy part of the hospital. He imagines a patient, a little girl, probably named Charlene, and she’s crying. She’s strong so she doesn’t scream when they wheel her away. The doctors look at her like she’s just another number, another thing to check off their list.
For a moment, Merlin feels some kind of odd melancholy for this fictional little girl, the kind that always takes over his heart whenever he comes to this hospital.
Before he goes to the room, he stops by Gaius’s office. The old man looks withered and, sometimes, when he hugs him, he smells like age-old secrets. But he’s still here because he’s still needed. Gaius’s office is a comfort, it always has been.
There’s a big oak table in the middle of the room, occupying a lamp, photos and various knick-knacks as a two chairs are perched in front of it. There’s a couch to his right, right under the window streaming in lines of light from the outside world. But what he loves the most about this place is the books.
As always, to Merlin, books have been a source of comfort. He never really trusted anyone without one. It’s lucky his boyfriend -he has a boyfriend now, he has a boyfriend- is just as a reader as he is.
“Merlin!” Gaius says joyously when he looked up.
“Hi, Gaius,” Merlin can’t help but smile at the sight of this man.
Gaius was the one who introduced Merlin to some of his favourite books. Merlin had been reading before that but only what others read. Those best-sellers and the ones that always got the best reviews in the papers. Up until he was about thirteen, he didn’t even know what literary fiction actually meant and, now, he can safely say he peruses that section of every bookstore first before wandering into previously-charted waters.
The old man comes round and gives him a hug, one of those nice, warm hugs, like tea in the afternoon. “Visiting, I presume?” he asks.
“Yes, it’s been a while. I’ve been sort of living in my own world lately. I need to remind myself of the amazing people I know,” Merlin sits down on one of the chairs.
“Ryan’s told me you came round to visit him a few weeks ago. From what he’s told me, you are absolutely besotted,” Gaius smirks.
“Well, he never could keep a secret very well,” Merlin shrugs.
“If you want to keep it a secret for a little while longer, it’ll be fine with me. I just want you to be careful, my boy, and whoever this young man is, he needs to take care of you,” Gaius says. That’s what he loves about Gaius sometimes: he cares far too much.
“Thank you and I would. I’d like to stay in this little bubble for as long as I can. You understand, right, Gaius?”
“Of course I do,” he nods. He rummages through his cupboards and pulls out a few thick books. “Now, which one would you like first?”
Merlin looks through them and holds up a very old, battered copy of Dialogues concerning Natural Religion (David Hume, 1779) and says, “I’ve already read this.”
“Perhaps, but I found this unique copy at a second-hand bookshop in downtown London last week. Some old loon had it and he wrote fascinating thoughts in the margins. I do love it when the mad and insane put their thoughts into writing, don’t you?”
“And this?” Merlin holds up another book, not so thick, not old -modern age, in fact- with an alluring cover.
“Move Under Ground, Nick Mamatas. It’s worth a read,” Gaius nods. Merlin turns the book around and reads the synopsis, immediately taken in.
“Listen, I should go. I’m sort of in a hurry,” Merlin can’t help but apologize. He wants to stay here a little while longer and peruse all the books Gaius can give him and let him tell stories and serve him tea. Maybe next time. Next time, when he’s read an old loon’s thoughts inside the margins of a philosophy work and read the Beats’ adventure.
“Of course, my boy,” Gaius nods because he understands. Somehow, he always seems to understand. “Don’t be a stranger, yes?”
“To you? Never,” he smiles. He really should come around more often.
He leaves the office and turns to his left, and outside into the world. A few more paces, that’s it. It hasn’t changed. In all his lifetimes and months here, the only thing that has changed is the amount of light beaming down at him, bright and dark and all things in between.
There’s still a eeriness that passes through him, like he’s missing something, something he doesn’t know, a blank he’s missed in the crossword puzzle like it’s not L-O-E at all, it’s L-O-V-E and he’s got it all wrong. There’s still she and him, like it’s always come down to.
He sits down on the ground, one more thing left unchanged, along with the movement of his fingers touching her headstone. There are some things that should be left alone, sacred acts of a life that should never be touched, like this one. Like Merlin leaning forward and saying with the most gentle tone he can manage, “Hi, Mum.”
A naiveté crashes through him every time he comes here: wishing that his mother would just wake up for the first time since she fell asleep during a cold, January night on an icy road and a light blinking from afar. He supposes it’s the same for everyone losing loved ones but he feels it more. Merlin always feels everything more.
“You’ll be happy to know that I found someone, Mum. You always said I should. You always said I was much too lonely and fictional characters weren’t actually going to pop out and marry me and take care of me. But, guess what, Mum? This guy? He’s real. Sometimes I can’t believe it but he’s real and I think he’s mine,” Merlin gushes because this moment can only truly be his if it’s his mum’s, as well.
“I’ve been worried. It’s easy to do for me even if there hasn’t been enough lifespan in our relationship to worry about anything. I worry too much but then I worry about not being worried. I worry whenever someone I know boards a plane, afraid it’s going to crash, I worry whenever someone offers some part of their life to me because how am I supposed to pay them back? I worry more for others than I do myself. But now? I worry about myself.
“Because I deserve this. Don’t I? Yes, of course I do. I deserve to be happy and to be loved after such a long time. Loneliness is harder to do when you’re surrounded by love. Now, Arthur, he could really love me. I worry if I can’t see that. I am in the way of myself being happy.”
His mum, silent as ever, would probably say something about how poetic her son is, and backs up all his points like her own personal thesis. You worry because you are you, you deserve to be happy because you have been sad, loving means being happy because being happy means you’re loved.
Once again, words of fiction reassure him. They strap across him like a straight jacket and make him feel safe in his insane little bubble.
The phone rings at exactly the right time, when his heart has swelled up to the point he cannot keep it in any longer and he’s taken in the chance to be happy.
“Hi, Arthur,” he smiles into the phone, all the while looking at his mother, who loves him through sleep and death. “Yeah, lunch right now sounds great.”
They’re at a small café nearby Arthur’s flat, which sort of begs the question of why they’re there instead of in the comfort of a familiar couch and no sound of busyness bustling around them. Then the food comes around in the form of brilliant-smelling coffee and half a cheesecake and suddenly he can’t care less about having sex because this food is like sex in your mouth already.
There’s some kind of normalcy between them already. How Arthur kissed Merlin upon arriving, chastely, sweetly, as someone pets a cat they’ve had since childhood, one hand creeping to the small of his back, holding him in place and how nonchalantly Arthur took his hand when they sat down and stroked his warm flesh there.
“I thought you were working the whole day,” Merlin says, digging into his piece of the cake, not really wanting to let go of Arthur so he keeps his fingers near his for a while.
“I think I deserve a lunch break with my boyfriend,” Arthur smirks. Boyfriend, there’s that word again; the word that makes him feel little giddy feelings he can’t say he’s ashamed of. “Now, how was your day?”
“My day was you, primarily. I went to go visit my mum, to clear things up a bit,” Merlin answers.
“Clear what things?”
“It’s stupid and it’s fine now. I’m happy,” Merlin smiles.
“What made you unhappy?” Arthur is beginning to worry.
Well, they always said that honesty was the best policy in a relationship, right? “I was worried about us. Well, actually, worried about me handling us. I had to think it through. I’ve thought it through and I want to us to be an us. I want to be happy and you can make me happy and likewise.”
“You’re right, Merlin, that is stupid,” Arthur says. “You shouldn’t worry about us. I really like you and I don’t want to screw this up. I want us to be the gay couple of the year because we’re so nauseating we make people throw up. I want us to look satisfied all the time because, really, we’ve just had dirty loo sex in every restaurant we stop by. I want us to be best friends that love each other, yeah?”
Merlin’s heart glows, it makes little beeping sounds like it’s calling out to Arthur’s. And it stops doing that once Arthur takes his hand in his again. Merlin’s heart stops beeping because it’s found another heart that could be there and intertwine itself into his veins and arteries until they won’t know what it felt like before they joined in holy cardiac matrimony.
“Yeah,” Merlin nods.
“Good,” Arthur looks satisfied with himself before bringing Merlin’s hand up to his mouth to kiss the knuckles.
“The dirty loo sex thing, though,” Merlin says. “Does that include this restaurant, as well?”
Merlin finds out, while his head is thrown back against the cubicle door, hands in Arthur’s hair as he begins sucking Merlin’s coherent thoughts through his cock, yes, yes it does.
PART FOUR