Fic: The Last to Know
Title: The Last to Know
Author: silverwings2020
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 2,500
Warnings: none
Summary: Arthur's always loved Merlin. Five times other people noticed, and one (of many) Merlin did.
Read on AO3.
1.
Arthur could see that Merlin was struggling to stay awake. Their friends-Arthur included-were all wired on the hype of being out of school for the day, but Merlin was beginning to show the effects of waking up early to cram onto a bus with their rowdy classmates and spending all day clambering around some austere museum none of them were interested in. His head drooped progressively lower, and his retorts to Arthur’s, “You alright there, Merlin?” became less and less intelligible, until it was just a jumbled murmur. Arthur was laughing at one of Leon’s jokes when he felt something on his shoulder, and he looked down to see that Merlin had finally given in and fallen asleep, head propped on Arthur.
He looked so peaceful, and Arthur couldn’t bring himself to shake him awake or even move him, even though he knew he should. Not even thinking about his friends, Arthur reached up and brushed Merlin’s hair out of his eyes, smiling at the sleepy sniffle it elicited from Merlin.
“Idiot,” he murmured fondly.
Behind him, Leon and Lancelot continued talking, voices lower than before. They saw the affection in Arthur’s smile, and how he didn’t even try to move them when Merlin’s arms wrapped around his waist, but they didn’t say anything.
2.
“Arthur, I’ve told you, there’s no point in me applying there. I’ll never get in.”
“Merlin,” Hunith heard Arthur’s voice reply, his exasperation clear even from the other room. “You’re practically first in our class. What are you talking about, you’ll never get in?”
“I don’t come from a rich family,” Hunith’s son mumbled, and she could picture him as he said it, sitting at the kitchen table, staring morosely at the pile of papers in front of him, tips of his ears burning red. “It’ll be fine from you and Leon; your families have been going there for ages. I’m nobody.”
“You’re not nobody,” Arthur said fiercely. “You’re brilliant, and any school who doesn’t accept you isn’t worth going to.”
“What are you talking about?”
“There’s no way I’m going to Albion without you, Merlin. We’ll go to Mercia, or wherever you want-“
“Arthur, shut up, you know your dad wouldn’t let you go anywhere else.” Merlin’s words were brusque, but Hunith heard the blush that was surely staining his cheeks in his tone. “Stop being stupid.”
“You’re the one being stupid!” Arthur scoffed. “My father can do whatever he wants. I’m not going to a school that doesn’t let my best friend in just because his great-great grandfather wasn’t a stuffy old aristocrat.”
Hunith didn’t need to be in the same room to know that Arthur was fixing Merlin with his best shut-up-and-do-what-I-tell-you look, and her son was glaring, knowing that there was nothing he could do or say to change his mind.
“You’re a prat,” Merlin said finally.
“Shut up, Merlin,” Arthur replied easily, and then they were bickering again, this time over who got to have the last biscuit, and Hunith was left to marvel at the lengths Arthur would go to for her son.
3.
Leon and Arthur were halfway through a vicious battle in their video game when Merlin poked his head into the sitting room, looking irritated.
“What’s up, Merlin?” Arthur asked, not taking his eyes off of the screen.
“I thought I told you not to put your laundry in with mine, Arthur?” Merlin grumbled, brandishing a purple t-shirt that Leon distinctly remembered Arthur buying last week. “I’m your flatmate, not the maid. I’m not doing your washing!”
Arthur barely glanced up at the offending piece of clothing before returning his attention to the game. “It’s too small for me, you keep it.”
Leon frowned at Arthur, who refused to move his eyes from the television. Merlin huffed.
“I don’t need your hand-me-downs, Arthur.”
“Merlin,” Arthur finally groaned as Leon successfully destroyed his player. “It’s nothing. The shirt doesn’t fit me anymore, I never wore it even when it did, and you need new shirts. Just take it.”
Merlin’s frown didn’t budge, even when he grumbled, “Fine,” and stomped back into his bedroom. Leon fixed Arthur with a pointed stare.
“What?” Arthur demanded, turning back to the game.
“You just bought that shirt, Arthur,” Leon pointed out. Arthur winced, knowing he’d been caught.
“So?”
“So why’d you lie to Merlin?”
Arthur shrugged stiffly. “The idiot never lets me buy him anything. And he really did need a new shirt.”
Leon snorted, and let the subject drop. Arthur turned his focus to thoroughly trouncing Leon in the next round, leaving Leon to wonder if Arthur even realized how obvious he was.
4.
Gaius knocked on the door to his nephew’s flat. He heard a massive sneeze from inside, followed by careful footsteps, and waited patiently for Merlin to open the door. A moment later, he heard the lock click, and the door fell open to reveal, much to Gaius’ surprise, a very tired-looking Arthur.
“Gaius,” he said in greeting, keeping his voice low. “What can I do for you?”
“Hunith asked me to check on Merlin,” Gaius explained, frowning. “She said he wasn’t feeling well. May I see him?”
“Yeah, of course,” Arthur replied, stepping aside to allow Gaius through. “He was up all night. I thought about calling, but I didn’t want to wake you.”
“Did you stay up with him?” Gaius inquired, eyeing the bags under Arthur’s eyes and his tousled hair. Arthur shrugged.
“I wouldn’t have been able to sleep with all the racket he was making, anyway. He’s in here.”
They stopped in the doorway to the sitting room, and Gaius caught a glimpse of his nephew stretched across the sofa, flyaway hair poking out from his tangle of blankets. The television was playing old Doctor Who reruns, but the volume was so low, Gaius could hardly hear it. The spot on the sofa beside Merlin was creased, as if someone had been sitting there recently. Gaius raised an eyebrow, but remained silent.
“He fell asleep just before you knocked,” Arthur said in a whisper, picking his way through used tissues to stand over Merlin’s prone form. “Do you want me to-?”
“No, he’s fine as he is,” Gaius assured him, bending low to feel Merlin’s temperature. “He’s warm.”
“He’s got a temperature of about 38,” Arthur provided, sitting in the empty chair. “Is that bad?”
“It’s not terribly good, but he’ll certainly live,” Gaius answered, straightening. “Has he been keeping hydrated?” Arthur nodded.
“I made him some tea and some soup, but he hasn’t managed to keep anything down yet.”
“Well then, I can see I’m not needed. He has a perfectly good caretaker already,” Gaius said, looking at his watch. He frowned. “Aren’t you supposed to be in class?”
Arthur started, and flushed guiltily at Gaius’ raised eyebrow. “I didn’t want to leave him alone,” he said weakly, gesturing at Merlin, who was still fast asleep. “Leon’s going to take notes for me, so I won’t fall back on my lectures.”
“I see,” Gaius remarked slowly. He looked from Arthur, sleep deprived and unusually scruffy, to Merlin, wrapped so carefully in his blankets, and shook his head minutely. “Very well. I’ll be sure to let Hunith know that her son is in good hands.”
5.
“Gwen, I…I need your help,” Arthur blurted, uncharacteristically nervous, the instant Gwen opened the door to her flat. Gwen blinked at him.
“Arthur? Where’s Merlin?” she asked, peering around the hall for their friend.
“He’s at home,” Arthur answered, stepping inside and closing the door behind him. “I need some advice.”
“Sure,” Gwen said slowly, leading the way into her kitchen. “Do you want some tea?”
“No, I’m fine.” Arthur stood in the middle of the room, hands shoved into his pockets. Gwen had never seen him look so uncomfortable, and she couldn’t help but stare as he went on, “I, uh…I wanted to ask you. About Christmas. And Merlin.”
“I’m going to need more information than that, Arthur,” Gwen said when it became obvious that Arthur wasn’t going to say anything. To her surprise, he actually blushed.
“Sorry, I…” He stopped, swallowed, and tried again. “I need your opinion on the gift I got for him.”
He reached into his coat pocket and brought out what seemed to just be a long folded strip of fabric. When he unraveled it for her scrutiny, Gwen saw that it was a scarf, deep red in colour, which she knew was Arthur’s favourite. It looked expensive, and it was lovely. Still, Gwen frowned. Arthur was forever teasing Merlin about his scarves; so much so that she was half-convinced Merlin wore them simply out of spite. It was downright bizarre that Arthur had bought one for him. Arthur began to fidget as she looked at it, clearing his throat almost nervously. Gwen looked up at him
“It’s beautiful,” she assured him, “he’ll love it.” Arthur visibly relaxed.
“You’re sure?”
“Of course I’m sure,” Gwen replied, hands on her hips. “Did you really come all the way over here just to make sure I like your gift? You know Merlin better than I do; you’ve never had trouble buying something for him before.”
Arthur shrugged, worrying the scarf between his fingers. “I just…he deserves more than the crap I get him every other year. I wanted to show him that I do care, about him.” He flinched, but didn’t try to take back what he’d said. “Do you really think he’ll like it?”
Gwen looked at Arthur, at the unusual gleam of nervousness in his eyes, and his fingers tangling themselves into the scarf. She’d watched her two friends dance around each other for years, and knew better than anyone how much they truly cared for each other, even though they both-for some unfathomable reason-tried to hide it. Seeing Arthur with his guard down made her heart melt.
“Yes, Arthur,” she said finally, giving Arthur a small smile. “I really think he will.”
1.
The first date had been a surprise. He’d shared a flat with Arthur for years, and been best friends with him for even longer, but he’d never known that Arthur so much as fancied him. He’d agreed, of course, and spent the entire dinner sitting squashed in his side of the table, terrified that this whole thing was some sort of joke, until Arthur finally lost his patience and snapped at Merlin to stop being such a bloody idiot and pass the salt, please-which, somehow, made everything suddenly click into place. They went home together that night, but slept in their own rooms, the only change in their normal routine being the soft kiss Arthur offered Merlin just before they parted.
A few days later, they had their second date, and the sex that followed it was as much of a surprise as their relationship. Arthur drove Merlin crazy with soft teasing kisses across his chest, trailing up to whisper in his ear as he fucked him into the mattress. It felt like coming home-the years of seeing but not touching falling away as Merlin stroked Arthur’s quivering back muscles, trading air in messy kisses that were more eagerness than finesse, but still managed to be perfect. They stayed awake long after they’d finished, lying close together and laughing late into the night, occasionally passing lazy kisses between them.
Their life fell into order after that. Merlin moved his things from his room to Arthur’s (“My view is better, and I’m closer to the bathroom.”), and their weekly movie-and-take-out night evolved into necking on the couch while the television worked in the background (“We’re missing the Felix Felicis scene.” “You’ve already seen it, like, a hundred times, Merlin.”). They still bickered near-constantly, but more often than not, this dissolved into one of them kissing the other, rather than Arthur pulling Merlin into a headlock. Before either of them really realized it, it was their first anniversary, and Gwen was squealing about their love over her third glass of wine, and Gwaine was making wildly inappropriate jokes, and Merlin and Arthur were waiting impatiently for everyone to leave so they could ravish each other senseless.
Several months later, Merlin was coaxed gently awake by kisses on his bare neck and shoulder. Arthur chuckled when he hummed in approval, and kissed him obligingly when Merlin stretched his neck.
“’hud murnah,” Merlin yawned. Arthur smiled.
“Good morning to you, too.” He allowed Merlin another sleepy kiss before tapping him on the behind. “Come on, get up. We’ve got things to do today.”
“We what?” Merlin asked confusedly. It was Saturday. Saturday meant sleepy morning sex and curling up on the sofa and trips to the pub. But Arthur clearly had other plans.
“You heard me. Come on, we’ll be late if we don’t get going.”
“Late for what?” Merlin almost whined, burrowing into the blankets. He swatted Arthur’s leg with his foot when the only response was a secretive smile. “You’re plotting something, aren’t you?”
Arthur laughed. “Always so suspicious.”
“Comes with having a sneaky boyfriend. Come on, what is it?”
“Fine,” Arthur sighed, “ruin the surprise. I got Lance to make an appointment for us at that shelter he volunteers for. He said they just got a cat for rehoming that he thinks is perfect for us and he wants us to come in for a look.”
“What?” Merlin squeaked, suddenly feeling wide awake. “Why?”
“Honestly, Merlin, because we’re going to adopt her, obviously. Or another cat, if this one doesn’t work out.”
Merlin gaped at Arthur, hardly daring to believe it. He’d been trying to convince Arthur to adopt a cat for months, but Arthur had been adamantly against it. He’d been so resolute, Merlin had mostly given up.
Not entirely convinced that he wasn’t dreaming, Merlin continued, “But…you hate cats.”
“I do,” Arthur shrugged, “but I love you, and it would make you happy. Plus, Lance swears we’ll love her, so I’m willing to give it a chance.”
Merlin couldn’t help himself. He surged forward to throw his arms around Arthur’s neck and kissed him. “Fuck, Arthur, I don’t deserve you. You are…” He paused, and drew back to look at his boyfriend. “I love you, too. I really, really do.”
Arthur smiled in response, and they would have lost themselves in the following (extremely enthusiastic) kiss if Arthur’s phone hadn’t beeped, reminding them of the appointment.
Later, they were back in their flat and watching their new ash-grey cat examine her new home. The cat, christened Minerva, had charmed them both instantly with its wide blue eyes. Even Arthur had been smitten with her within a few minutes of having her plopped into their arms; Merlin had had to work hard at hiding his smile over the sight of Arthur cradling a purring cat. Minerva thankfully seemed to be taking to them just as well. While she explored, Merlin snuggled closer to Arthur’s side, and Arthur pressed a kiss to his forehead. Minerva mrrt’d at them from under the coffee table. Arthur’s answering laughter rumbled under Merlin’s palm, and Merlin smiled.
Author: silverwings2020
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 2,500
Warnings: none
Summary: Arthur's always loved Merlin. Five times other people noticed, and one (of many) Merlin did.
Read on AO3.
1.
Arthur could see that Merlin was struggling to stay awake. Their friends-Arthur included-were all wired on the hype of being out of school for the day, but Merlin was beginning to show the effects of waking up early to cram onto a bus with their rowdy classmates and spending all day clambering around some austere museum none of them were interested in. His head drooped progressively lower, and his retorts to Arthur’s, “You alright there, Merlin?” became less and less intelligible, until it was just a jumbled murmur. Arthur was laughing at one of Leon’s jokes when he felt something on his shoulder, and he looked down to see that Merlin had finally given in and fallen asleep, head propped on Arthur.
He looked so peaceful, and Arthur couldn’t bring himself to shake him awake or even move him, even though he knew he should. Not even thinking about his friends, Arthur reached up and brushed Merlin’s hair out of his eyes, smiling at the sleepy sniffle it elicited from Merlin.
“Idiot,” he murmured fondly.
Behind him, Leon and Lancelot continued talking, voices lower than before. They saw the affection in Arthur’s smile, and how he didn’t even try to move them when Merlin’s arms wrapped around his waist, but they didn’t say anything.
2.
“Arthur, I’ve told you, there’s no point in me applying there. I’ll never get in.”
“Merlin,” Hunith heard Arthur’s voice reply, his exasperation clear even from the other room. “You’re practically first in our class. What are you talking about, you’ll never get in?”
“I don’t come from a rich family,” Hunith’s son mumbled, and she could picture him as he said it, sitting at the kitchen table, staring morosely at the pile of papers in front of him, tips of his ears burning red. “It’ll be fine from you and Leon; your families have been going there for ages. I’m nobody.”
“You’re not nobody,” Arthur said fiercely. “You’re brilliant, and any school who doesn’t accept you isn’t worth going to.”
“What are you talking about?”
“There’s no way I’m going to Albion without you, Merlin. We’ll go to Mercia, or wherever you want-“
“Arthur, shut up, you know your dad wouldn’t let you go anywhere else.” Merlin’s words were brusque, but Hunith heard the blush that was surely staining his cheeks in his tone. “Stop being stupid.”
“You’re the one being stupid!” Arthur scoffed. “My father can do whatever he wants. I’m not going to a school that doesn’t let my best friend in just because his great-great grandfather wasn’t a stuffy old aristocrat.”
Hunith didn’t need to be in the same room to know that Arthur was fixing Merlin with his best shut-up-and-do-what-I-tell-you look, and her son was glaring, knowing that there was nothing he could do or say to change his mind.
“You’re a prat,” Merlin said finally.
“Shut up, Merlin,” Arthur replied easily, and then they were bickering again, this time over who got to have the last biscuit, and Hunith was left to marvel at the lengths Arthur would go to for her son.
3.
Leon and Arthur were halfway through a vicious battle in their video game when Merlin poked his head into the sitting room, looking irritated.
“What’s up, Merlin?” Arthur asked, not taking his eyes off of the screen.
“I thought I told you not to put your laundry in with mine, Arthur?” Merlin grumbled, brandishing a purple t-shirt that Leon distinctly remembered Arthur buying last week. “I’m your flatmate, not the maid. I’m not doing your washing!”
Arthur barely glanced up at the offending piece of clothing before returning his attention to the game. “It’s too small for me, you keep it.”
Leon frowned at Arthur, who refused to move his eyes from the television. Merlin huffed.
“I don’t need your hand-me-downs, Arthur.”
“Merlin,” Arthur finally groaned as Leon successfully destroyed his player. “It’s nothing. The shirt doesn’t fit me anymore, I never wore it even when it did, and you need new shirts. Just take it.”
Merlin’s frown didn’t budge, even when he grumbled, “Fine,” and stomped back into his bedroom. Leon fixed Arthur with a pointed stare.
“What?” Arthur demanded, turning back to the game.
“You just bought that shirt, Arthur,” Leon pointed out. Arthur winced, knowing he’d been caught.
“So?”
“So why’d you lie to Merlin?”
Arthur shrugged stiffly. “The idiot never lets me buy him anything. And he really did need a new shirt.”
Leon snorted, and let the subject drop. Arthur turned his focus to thoroughly trouncing Leon in the next round, leaving Leon to wonder if Arthur even realized how obvious he was.
4.
Gaius knocked on the door to his nephew’s flat. He heard a massive sneeze from inside, followed by careful footsteps, and waited patiently for Merlin to open the door. A moment later, he heard the lock click, and the door fell open to reveal, much to Gaius’ surprise, a very tired-looking Arthur.
“Gaius,” he said in greeting, keeping his voice low. “What can I do for you?”
“Hunith asked me to check on Merlin,” Gaius explained, frowning. “She said he wasn’t feeling well. May I see him?”
“Yeah, of course,” Arthur replied, stepping aside to allow Gaius through. “He was up all night. I thought about calling, but I didn’t want to wake you.”
“Did you stay up with him?” Gaius inquired, eyeing the bags under Arthur’s eyes and his tousled hair. Arthur shrugged.
“I wouldn’t have been able to sleep with all the racket he was making, anyway. He’s in here.”
They stopped in the doorway to the sitting room, and Gaius caught a glimpse of his nephew stretched across the sofa, flyaway hair poking out from his tangle of blankets. The television was playing old Doctor Who reruns, but the volume was so low, Gaius could hardly hear it. The spot on the sofa beside Merlin was creased, as if someone had been sitting there recently. Gaius raised an eyebrow, but remained silent.
“He fell asleep just before you knocked,” Arthur said in a whisper, picking his way through used tissues to stand over Merlin’s prone form. “Do you want me to-?”
“No, he’s fine as he is,” Gaius assured him, bending low to feel Merlin’s temperature. “He’s warm.”
“He’s got a temperature of about 38,” Arthur provided, sitting in the empty chair. “Is that bad?”
“It’s not terribly good, but he’ll certainly live,” Gaius answered, straightening. “Has he been keeping hydrated?” Arthur nodded.
“I made him some tea and some soup, but he hasn’t managed to keep anything down yet.”
“Well then, I can see I’m not needed. He has a perfectly good caretaker already,” Gaius said, looking at his watch. He frowned. “Aren’t you supposed to be in class?”
Arthur started, and flushed guiltily at Gaius’ raised eyebrow. “I didn’t want to leave him alone,” he said weakly, gesturing at Merlin, who was still fast asleep. “Leon’s going to take notes for me, so I won’t fall back on my lectures.”
“I see,” Gaius remarked slowly. He looked from Arthur, sleep deprived and unusually scruffy, to Merlin, wrapped so carefully in his blankets, and shook his head minutely. “Very well. I’ll be sure to let Hunith know that her son is in good hands.”
5.
“Gwen, I…I need your help,” Arthur blurted, uncharacteristically nervous, the instant Gwen opened the door to her flat. Gwen blinked at him.
“Arthur? Where’s Merlin?” she asked, peering around the hall for their friend.
“He’s at home,” Arthur answered, stepping inside and closing the door behind him. “I need some advice.”
“Sure,” Gwen said slowly, leading the way into her kitchen. “Do you want some tea?”
“No, I’m fine.” Arthur stood in the middle of the room, hands shoved into his pockets. Gwen had never seen him look so uncomfortable, and she couldn’t help but stare as he went on, “I, uh…I wanted to ask you. About Christmas. And Merlin.”
“I’m going to need more information than that, Arthur,” Gwen said when it became obvious that Arthur wasn’t going to say anything. To her surprise, he actually blushed.
“Sorry, I…” He stopped, swallowed, and tried again. “I need your opinion on the gift I got for him.”
He reached into his coat pocket and brought out what seemed to just be a long folded strip of fabric. When he unraveled it for her scrutiny, Gwen saw that it was a scarf, deep red in colour, which she knew was Arthur’s favourite. It looked expensive, and it was lovely. Still, Gwen frowned. Arthur was forever teasing Merlin about his scarves; so much so that she was half-convinced Merlin wore them simply out of spite. It was downright bizarre that Arthur had bought one for him. Arthur began to fidget as she looked at it, clearing his throat almost nervously. Gwen looked up at him
“It’s beautiful,” she assured him, “he’ll love it.” Arthur visibly relaxed.
“You’re sure?”
“Of course I’m sure,” Gwen replied, hands on her hips. “Did you really come all the way over here just to make sure I like your gift? You know Merlin better than I do; you’ve never had trouble buying something for him before.”
Arthur shrugged, worrying the scarf between his fingers. “I just…he deserves more than the crap I get him every other year. I wanted to show him that I do care, about him.” He flinched, but didn’t try to take back what he’d said. “Do you really think he’ll like it?”
Gwen looked at Arthur, at the unusual gleam of nervousness in his eyes, and his fingers tangling themselves into the scarf. She’d watched her two friends dance around each other for years, and knew better than anyone how much they truly cared for each other, even though they both-for some unfathomable reason-tried to hide it. Seeing Arthur with his guard down made her heart melt.
“Yes, Arthur,” she said finally, giving Arthur a small smile. “I really think he will.”
1.
The first date had been a surprise. He’d shared a flat with Arthur for years, and been best friends with him for even longer, but he’d never known that Arthur so much as fancied him. He’d agreed, of course, and spent the entire dinner sitting squashed in his side of the table, terrified that this whole thing was some sort of joke, until Arthur finally lost his patience and snapped at Merlin to stop being such a bloody idiot and pass the salt, please-which, somehow, made everything suddenly click into place. They went home together that night, but slept in their own rooms, the only change in their normal routine being the soft kiss Arthur offered Merlin just before they parted.
A few days later, they had their second date, and the sex that followed it was as much of a surprise as their relationship. Arthur drove Merlin crazy with soft teasing kisses across his chest, trailing up to whisper in his ear as he fucked him into the mattress. It felt like coming home-the years of seeing but not touching falling away as Merlin stroked Arthur’s quivering back muscles, trading air in messy kisses that were more eagerness than finesse, but still managed to be perfect. They stayed awake long after they’d finished, lying close together and laughing late into the night, occasionally passing lazy kisses between them.
Their life fell into order after that. Merlin moved his things from his room to Arthur’s (“My view is better, and I’m closer to the bathroom.”), and their weekly movie-and-take-out night evolved into necking on the couch while the television worked in the background (“We’re missing the Felix Felicis scene.” “You’ve already seen it, like, a hundred times, Merlin.”). They still bickered near-constantly, but more often than not, this dissolved into one of them kissing the other, rather than Arthur pulling Merlin into a headlock. Before either of them really realized it, it was their first anniversary, and Gwen was squealing about their love over her third glass of wine, and Gwaine was making wildly inappropriate jokes, and Merlin and Arthur were waiting impatiently for everyone to leave so they could ravish each other senseless.
Several months later, Merlin was coaxed gently awake by kisses on his bare neck and shoulder. Arthur chuckled when he hummed in approval, and kissed him obligingly when Merlin stretched his neck.
“’hud murnah,” Merlin yawned. Arthur smiled.
“Good morning to you, too.” He allowed Merlin another sleepy kiss before tapping him on the behind. “Come on, get up. We’ve got things to do today.”
“We what?” Merlin asked confusedly. It was Saturday. Saturday meant sleepy morning sex and curling up on the sofa and trips to the pub. But Arthur clearly had other plans.
“You heard me. Come on, we’ll be late if we don’t get going.”
“Late for what?” Merlin almost whined, burrowing into the blankets. He swatted Arthur’s leg with his foot when the only response was a secretive smile. “You’re plotting something, aren’t you?”
Arthur laughed. “Always so suspicious.”
“Comes with having a sneaky boyfriend. Come on, what is it?”
“Fine,” Arthur sighed, “ruin the surprise. I got Lance to make an appointment for us at that shelter he volunteers for. He said they just got a cat for rehoming that he thinks is perfect for us and he wants us to come in for a look.”
“What?” Merlin squeaked, suddenly feeling wide awake. “Why?”
“Honestly, Merlin, because we’re going to adopt her, obviously. Or another cat, if this one doesn’t work out.”
Merlin gaped at Arthur, hardly daring to believe it. He’d been trying to convince Arthur to adopt a cat for months, but Arthur had been adamantly against it. He’d been so resolute, Merlin had mostly given up.
Not entirely convinced that he wasn’t dreaming, Merlin continued, “But…you hate cats.”
“I do,” Arthur shrugged, “but I love you, and it would make you happy. Plus, Lance swears we’ll love her, so I’m willing to give it a chance.”
Merlin couldn’t help himself. He surged forward to throw his arms around Arthur’s neck and kissed him. “Fuck, Arthur, I don’t deserve you. You are…” He paused, and drew back to look at his boyfriend. “I love you, too. I really, really do.”
Arthur smiled in response, and they would have lost themselves in the following (extremely enthusiastic) kiss if Arthur’s phone hadn’t beeped, reminding them of the appointment.
Later, they were back in their flat and watching their new ash-grey cat examine her new home. The cat, christened Minerva, had charmed them both instantly with its wide blue eyes. Even Arthur had been smitten with her within a few minutes of having her plopped into their arms; Merlin had had to work hard at hiding his smile over the sight of Arthur cradling a purring cat. Minerva thankfully seemed to be taking to them just as well. While she explored, Merlin snuggled closer to Arthur’s side, and Arthur pressed a kiss to his forehead. Minerva mrrt’d at them from under the coffee table. Arthur’s answering laughter rumbled under Merlin’s palm, and Merlin smiled.