4 - press my nose up, to the glass around your heart

[tink_sky_reid]

~*~

part 4: press my nose up, to the glass around your heart

~*~

“Yeah, Deaton says that I can start working full time as soon as next month,” Lancelot told him.

“Damn, that's fast,” Arthur replied distractedly. He saved the presentation he was making and closed the window. His e-mail inbox was still empty.

“Any news on that research proposal of yours?” Lancelot asked, like he could sense what Arthur was doing.

“Nope.”

“Oh well. Relax, I'm sure you'll get in.”

“Yeah, I'm sure I can get in. Father had better not be messing with this,” Arthur said bitterly. The Oxford organized project he'd decided to use for his dissertation was a dream come true and there was little Arthur wasn't willing to do to ensure participation, but he wanted to get there on his own merit. He submitted a CV that did not include his medical records and he explicitly told his father not to pull any strings. He'd questioned those decisions a few times since then, but it was important to him to stick to his guns.

“Well, even if he is, there's nothing you can do about it, is there now?” Lancelot reasoned. It didn't make Arthur feel any better, though. “So, just, I don't know. Don't think about it? Tell me how things are between you and Merlin!”

Arthur swallowed thickly. “Yeah, things are fine. They're great.”

“Yeah?”

Arthur's laptop pinged. He refreshed his e-mail. There was a new message there. Arthur hovered over the e-mail subject. It was carefully phrased not to give him any hints about the outcome of his application.

“So are you guys still seeing each other? I mean how does it even work now?”

Arthur closed his eyes. He thought about telling Lancelot that he hadn't spoken to Merlin since he left Cambridge more than three months ago, that he didn't know what the fuck was wrong with him and why he made the stupid decisions he made. He thought about trying to explain himself to Lancelot, because Merlin was Lancelot's friend too, but he didn't have an explanation. Every time he picked up his phone to call Merlin, to text him or send him an e-mail, anything, he would become completely overcome with some irrational but undeniable dread and shame. And he'd give in. And he'd put the phone away.

He thought about continuing to lie to Lancelot, pretending everything was fine. It wasn't like he hadn't already imagined all the possible ways in which he could stay in touch with Merlin, it wasn't like he hadn't already planned dates and conversations with Merlin, it wasn't like he hadn't already lived them all out in his head. But it hurt to even think about it because it made him realize every single thing he'd done wrong.

He clicked with his eyes still closed and opened the e-mail. He wasn't as happy as he felt someone who just got into the most prestigious doctorate programs ever should have. “I'm in,” he told Lancelot to avoid answering his questions.

~*~

Merlin stretches out over Arthur's bed. He looks younger, clean-shaven and smiling and relaxed. “Come on,” he says, patting the bed, “Join me.”

Even as he reaches over to the bed and helps Merlin pull him onto it, Arthur is sure this is a bad idea. But Merlin's hand lingers on his waist and he doesn't say anything.

“I wish they hadn't replaced the beds,” Merlin says, relaxing back into the pillows.

“Pretty sure they had to.”

“Still. I was attached to that bed!”

“You're telling me!” Arthur replies. “I lost my virginity in that bed.”

“Well, technically you didn't,” Merlin argues, “you'd slept with people before me.”

“Not with guys,” Arthur counters.

“Yeah, I figured that.”

“Hey! I wasn't that bad. Was I?”

Merlin smiles. “No, quite the contrary. You were good.”

Unthinkingly, Arthur reaches out to trace the side of Merlin's face with his finger. As soon as he realizes what he's doing, he pulls his hand back and clears his throat. “Remember when we walked in on Morgana and... what was his name anyway?”

Merlin holds Arthur's gaze for a second too long, his expression unreadable. Then he seems to shake off whatever he was feeling and smiles. “How could I forget? I was scarred for life.”

“I remember that one time we had a fight... I don't even know what we were fighting about anymore, but you didn't want to sleep in the same bed.”

“Ah, yes. Only my bed was always covered in stuff because we weren't using it!”

“You slept on my notes! I swear they smelled like you afterwards!” Arthur laughs.

“What about the first time I realized you were having nightmares?”

“I hated you for waking up. For finding out,” Arthur admits.

“That was the first time, this is gonna sound really stupid but, that was the first time it even crossed my mind that you were...”

“Messed up?” Arthur offers.

“For lack of a better expression,” Merlin agrees.

“We weren't together yet then.”

“No, you were still deciding if you even tolerated me, if I recall correctly,” Merlin says. “But I woke up and you looked so terrified, Arthur, I swear.”

Arthur thinks back to that night. “You didn't say anything, just gave me water and sat on the bed with me. You held my hand. I thought you were treating me like a child.”

“I just wanted to make you feel better.”

“You did,” Arthur replies. “I didn't want to tell you, but you did.”

“I wanted to kiss you,” Merlin confesses. “You were a total asshole to me,” Arthur laughs, “but that night I saw you as something more. There was something about you. There is something about you.”

Arthur looks away uncomfortably. He traces his wedding ring with his thumb. The bed dips as Merlin rolls over. He puts a hand inappropriately low on Arthur's back. Against all better judgment, Arthur leans into it.

“Do you still have them? The nightmares?”

“Yeah.”

“You have to stop blaming yourself, Arthur,” Merlin says quietly, his fingers dancing over Arthur's spine.

“Easier said than done,” Arthur murmurs.

“Yeah. I get that now.”

~*~

The cafe was small and cozy. The walls were paneled with dark wood and the chairs were tastefully mismatched, making it look like it was someone's dining room. It had the kind of intimate feel and comfortable aesthetic that was exactly what Gwen liked. Arthur preferred sleek, light and spacious areas, the kind of modern, minimalistic, pragmatic chic that reminded him of a place of work, rather than a place of living. But he'd missed Gwen so much that he was happy to meet her anywhere she wanted.

He was seated by the door, at a table with one chair removed. The waiter awkwardly spluttered to offer help every few seconds. Arthur took pity on him and placed an order before he sent him away as gently as he could. A few years ago, he wouldn't have had that amount of tact.

A warm hand on his shoulder startled him. He looked up. Gwen was smiling at him under a blue hoodie, snowflakes sticking to the few curls falling over her face. “Hey stranger,” she said.

“Gwen.”

She sat across from him. Arthur was well beyond the time where he instinctively started to get up to have her chair out for her or take her coat. He took a long sip of his tea. The nervous waiter was back. He took Gwen's order (hot chocolate with hazelnuts, it's really good, you should try it next time), looked at Arthur like he was still some sort of novelty. For a moment it seemed like he wanted to say something, but then he shook his head and left. Arthur almost wanted to laugh at him.

“I didn't know you moved back here,” she commented. The waiter brought her chocolate over.

“Yeah, I just got an apartment last month.”

It felt weird telling her such basic things. He knew they hadn't quite been in good contact lately, but she was still one of his closest friends.

“It's nice to see you again.”

She was looking at him with such fondness, Arthur had to turn away. She was always so understanding to him, so kind. Arthur didn't feel like he deserved it.

“It's good to see you to,” he told her, looking back up at her face. She was still smiling, a small, but warm and genuine smile. He'd always thought she was beautiful, but not having seen her in months made him see her as a completely new person. He reached out and put his hand over her on the table.

~*~

“Thank God your building has an elevator,” Arthur says, letting Merlin push his chair inside.

“Tell me about it, I would've had to carry you up four floors,” Merlin replies, throwing his keys at the nearby coffee table. “And thank God you got a nice pet student who doesn't meddle in your personal life.” He gestures around the apartment, saying, “It's a little small and cramped, so let me know if you need any help.”

Arthur hums in response, too busy looking around to reply properly. From where he is, he can only see the living room and the kitchen, the hallway leading towards a closed door.

Merlin sits into the armchair next to him, folds his legs under himself and leans to the side, closer to Arthur. “Oh, sorry, did you want anything?”

“No, I'm fine,” Arthur says, turning towards Merlin. Merlin's face is quite close. “You have a nice place.” He does think it's nice, he just also thinks it's a little impersonal. There's clear evidence that someone lives there, but they could be most anyone in the world. The only trace of Merlin in the apartment are the few framed photos scattered around.

Merlin raises an eyebrow at Arthur. “But?” he asks.

“I don't know, are you selling it?”

Merlin snorts. “No. Why?”

“It's a little... bare?”

Merlin looks around before leaning even closer towards Arthur. “Ah, yes. It was better while Gwaine was still living here. I... have sort of given up.”

Arthur's first thought is that Merlin looks like he's given up on more than just his apartment, but he doesn't mention that. He can't escape the feeling that all of this is his fault, that he is to blame for Merlin's life not working out the way he planned, for Merlin being alone, for Merlin not caring about any of it.

“I know what you're thinking,” Merlin says.

“Do you?” Arthur considers moving away as Merlin is well in his personal space, but Merlin's eyes have always had a hypnotic effect on him at this small a distance.

“You're blaming yourself,” Merlin guesses, a lopsided smile on his face.

“Am I wrong?”

Merlin doesn't answer. Instead he comes even closer, one of his hands stroking over Arthur's knee. Arthur knows what is about to happen, and yet it still catches him by surprise when their lips meet. It's a soft and gentle touch and Merlin gives him more than enough time to pull away. He doesn't, opting to deepen the kiss instead. It's only then that Merlin closes his eyes.

It's all that Arthur remembers and more. It's Merlin knowing to ease into the kiss, it's Merlin remembering to scrape his teeth over Arthur's lips, it's Merlin's hand on the back of Arthur's neck. It's the noise Merlin makes when it starts, and Arthur's hand fisted in the front of Merlin's shirt. And it's Arthur pulling back, against what every fiber of his being wants.

“I have to go,” he says, his voice breaking. Merlin doesn't try to stop him, which is good because Arthur doesn't know what he would do if Merlin asked him to say.

~*~

Arthur tried not to take the rejection personally, but it wasn't easy when his best friend was refusing to be his best man. He opened his mouth to protest, but Lancelot beat him to it, slamming his hand down on the kitchen table. “What were you thinking, Arthur!?”

Thrown for a loop, Arthur forgot what he was about to say.

“You asked her to marry you? Have you completely lost your mind?”

Arthur was honestly and genuinely baffled. He knew Lancelot had a thing for Gwen, he knew they'd dated a while ago, but he thought they were both over it. Clearly he was wrong. “Look, I didn't realize this would be awkward for you. I thought you and Gwen were done!”

Lancelot took a step back, putting more distance between them. “This isn't about that.”

“Then what is it about!? Because I can't really think of that many reasons for why my best friend wouldn't want me to marry the woman I love!”

“And that is the problem,” Lancelot said bitterly. “You don't love her.”

Arthur's first reaction was anger. Which was good, really, since he probably would have panicked if he'd actually thought Lancelot had him figured out. “How dare you?” he hissed.

“How dare I? You're making the mistake of your life!” Lancelot shouted. “And, hey, if you want to ruin your own life, go ahead. But why would you drag Gwen into this?”

And that was it. Arthur was done, he was sick of people assuming he couldn't do things, he was sick of people telling him he wasn't good enough. He didn't expect Lancelot to be one of those people. “So what you're saying is that I'm not good enough for her?”

“No, Arthur,” Lancelot replied, much quieter and calmer now. “I think you will be a great husband one day. To someone else. I'm saying you're not right for her.”

“And you are?” Arthur threw back in his face.

“Maybe!” Even in the heat of the moment, Arthur had to give Lancelot props for owning up to what he thought; Arthur had always appreciated honesty. “But we'll never know! Because she cares about you and as long as you're leading her on, she'll stay by you because loyal is the kind of person Gwen is!”

“I'm not leading her on.”

Lancelot put both of his hands out slowly, placatingly even, like he was talking to a child who was being unreasonable. Arthur had a feeling he wouldn't like whatever Lancelot was about to say. “Arthur, I'm only gonna say this once: call Merlin.” Arthur gasped, his heart dropping to his stomach and something cold spreading through his whole body. “Look, you haven't been the same since you two broke up and I know how much he means to you. Whatever happened between you two, I'm sure you can wor-“

“Get out,” Arthur said coldly.

~*~

He should be staying away. Any reasonable person could see that. But Arthur doesn't feel like being reasonable. He feels like being excited, he feels like being in love, he feels like being alive. So he doesn't stay away.

“I was almost sure you'd run back home,” Merlin says, locking the door to his classroom.

“I did run. Or as close as,” Arthur admits.

“You came back.”

“I want us to... be friends,” Arthur says. The truth is that he wants more, that he's always wanted more, but he accepts that he can no longer have that. Well, he tries to accept, at least.

“Mmhm,” Merlin replies, smirking a little. “We can do that. Or...” He licks his lips suggestively.

“Or nothing,” Arthur says before Merlin can change his mind.

“Alright,” Merlin agrees. “Friends, then.” His hand stroking the side of Arthur's neck in passing says otherwise. Arthur doesn't point that out.

~*~

Gwen settled in next to him with a glass of wine. She started the movie and leaned into Arthur's side when he hugged her. Her hair smelled of lavender.

“Can I just ask, why are we watching Harry Potter again? You can practically reenact the movies yourself by now.”

“I can't practically reenact it, I can reenact it!” Gwen replied. Arthur would have believed the offence in her voice if he hadn't known better. “And it reminds me of my childhood. Besides, it's my birthday, I get to choose what we watch!”

“Okay, okay,” Arthur conceded as the Privet Drive showed up on the screen in front of them. He leaned his head against Gwen's and made his piece with sitting through a marathon of Daniel Radcliffe growing up.

Somewhere around the time Ron fell off his chess horse, Gwen sat up, the top of her head knocking against Arthur's chin, disturbing him from the pleasant almost-slumber he had fallen into.

“Have you ever thought about kids?” she asked. “I was just remembering my father taking me to the premiere of the last Harry Potter movie and... I want make some more of those memories. From the other side, this time.”

Arthur was so far from ready for this conversation. “Um, no, I can't say I've given it any serious thought,” he said.

“Don't get all diplomatic with me,” Gwen chided, pinching Arthur's arm where it was still resting around her shoulders. “Honestly. Can you imagine us with kids?”

“I can imagine a lot of things,” Arthur replied, trying not to say anything he'd regret. He pictured a baby's crying waking him up and Gwen having to get up because he couldn't. He imagined not being able to teach his son soccer. He thought about looking at a child and seeing them smile with unconditional love.

“Arthur, don't think, just answer: do you want children?”

“Yes,” Arthur said, but before he could get roped into anything and before Gwen could get her hopes up, he felt that he needed to point out a few things. “You'd be doing a lot of the work alone,” he warned.

“Oh, so like any mother.”

“We'd probably have to adopt.”

“I'm fine with that.”

“How long have you been thinking about this!?” Arthur asked, laughing.

“Well, maybe a little while,” Gwen admitted, looking at him from under her lashes. “Okay, maybe more than a little while.”

Arthur watched her face carefully. He knew she would never force him to do something this important, but he also saw in her eyes that she wanted this.

“Can I think about this some time when Voldemort is not shrieking in my ear?”

~*~

Arthur should have known, really, as soon as he saw Merlin at his door with a bottle of cheap red wine in his hand. Now, three hours later and both Merlin's wine and Arthur's whiskey gone, Merlin is stumbling towards the bed and Arthur is regretting his life choices. Merlin trips over his own feet, braces himself on Arthur's shoulder and then seems to give up, letting himself fall on Arthur's lap. Arthur tries to move away and minimize the contact, but it's not like he has anywhere to go (it's not like he's really trying).

“Oops,” Merlin says, sitting up to be face to face with Arthur, his lips brushing over Arthur's cheek in the process. He doesn't sound sorry at all.

“What are you doing?” Arthur slurs.

“Nothing,” Merlin replies readily, grimacing over-dramatically.

“You're in my lap,” Arthur points out.

“Mmm, that I am,” Merlin murmurs into Arthur's ears, rolling his hips slowly. He presses in so close Arthur can feel the bulge in Merlin's jeans against his lower belly. He hasn't felt that in so long that he's almost forgotten how good it feels. Merlin rubs his face against Arthur's neck, the light stubble scratching over Arthur's skin; it's unfair, Arthur thinks, because he's always loved that feeling and Merlin knows it and Merlin is not playing fair and Arthur moves his head to the side to expose more of his neck.

“You're taking advantage. I'm drunk and you know me and you,” he wants to sound accusing; it's not his best performance especially when Merlin bites down on his jaw and Arthur moans, “You are taking advantage.”

“Guilty,” Merlin admits. Arthur can feel him grinning. Merlin squirms until he's kneeling over Arthur's lap, his legs pressing against the armrests of Arthur's chair and Arthur really has no place to put his hands other than Merlin's thighs (or so he tells himself).

“Do you not suffer from the whiskey dick syndrome like the rest of us mortals?” Arthur asks, trying to break the sexual tension he could probably cut with a knife.

“Only because I've been waiting for this for too long. You're looking at 15 years of sexual frustration right here,” Merlin says, not budging an inch away from Arthur.

There isn't a place on Arthur's body where he can't feel Merlin - Merlin's ass is snuggly pressed against Arthur's crotch and there's virtually no space between their upper bodies; Merlin is rubbing his cheek against Arthur and Merlin's hands are roaming over Arthur's face and through his hair. Arthur runs his hands up Merlin's thighs absently. His mind is just fuzzy enough that he can still excuse turning his head just that tiniest bit and bring their mouths together.

It's different this time, no patience and no finesse, fast and sloppy and wet and Arthur can't get enough. Merlin is like a cat, his whole body moving fluidly against Arthur as he rubs himself on Arthur's stomach and if Arthur could he'd be pushing up against him by now. Instead he grabs at Merlin's wrist and guides his hand lower. He catches their hands in the corner of his eye, the golden glint of his wedding ring. He lets go of Merlin as if burnt.

“Shit, we can't do this,” he says, turning his head away when Merlin tries to kiss him again. “No, Merlin, I'm serious, we can't.”

Merlin grunts, his head falling to Arthur's shoulder. “Come on,” he moans. “You know you want this.”

Arthur runs his finger over his wedding ring. “I'm married.”

“An unfortunate, but not insurmountable setback.” Arthur gives Merlin the most incredulous face he can manage to pull. Merlin makes a dissatisfied noise, but he settles back on Arthur's knees, putting some distance between them. “Fine,” he sighs. “I'll drop it. If you tell me one thing. Are you happy?”

“I have a life,” Arthur replies, belatedly realizing that he's falling right into Merlin's clever little trap. If he hadn't been there to witness it, Arthur would be wondering if Merlin had actually been drinking.

“So do I. But are you happy?”

It's an easy question, Arthur thinks, it should be an easy answer, a simple yes that would solve this whole mess he's in the middle of. It's a word he's said countless times before, yet now he can't remember how to pronounce it. “I'm not unhappy,” he says instead.

“But you're not happy either,” Merlin deduces.

Knowing he can't win, Arthur decided not to argue. “And I would be with you?” he asks sarcastically. It's only after the words leave his mouth that he realizes what he said.

“Yeah. You would,” Merlin says simply. He brings their foreheads together. Arthur has to close his eyes. “I want you, Arthur,” Merlin whispers, “and so help me, I'm not giving up without a fight this time.”

They're close again and Arthur can smell the alcohol on Merlin's breath and then he can taste it as well. “Fuck it,” he murmurs against Merlin's lips, his hands gripping Merlin's hips.

~*~

Arthur checked his watch as he waited for the green light. He was cutting it close to his latest interview, but he could still make it if his luck with traffic lights just turned. He huffed, frustrated, looking right, then left, wondering if he could rush across without being hit (he couldn't). He was tapping his fingers on the armrest when he noticed him. A tall skinny guy walking down the street, his back to Arthur. His dark hair was messy and his coat was worn and there was a plaid blue scarf around his neck and Arthur knew, he could swear he knew. He didn't even think about it, he turned to follow, but when he looked again, the man was gone. Arthur stared at the corner where he last saw him until the green light had come and passed and he was most definitely late. A part of him still wanted to follow.

~*~

Merlin is going through the family photos on Arthur's laptop. Arthur is leaning against his side, his fingers splayed carelessly over Merlin's upper thigh; he studies Merlin's face. In the unnatural light of the laptop screen, Merlin's skin is even paler and he looks like a ghost. For the first time Arthur can see up close how much older Merlin really looks, the bags under his eyes and the barely there frown lines. Arthur runs his lips over the clear lines of Merlin's ribs, making Merlin laugh and push him away gently.

“You're tickling me,” he complains. Arthur does it again just to hear Merlin laugh. “Stop it,” Merlin says, putting the laptop away to the floor so he can get on top of Arthur and grab both of his wrists to force them over his head. “Hmm, now what am I gonna do with you,” he tuts. “So many options, so little time,” he says, glancing at the digital alarm clock on the nightstand.

Arthur, however, thinks of something else. “Less than a month till the end of the semester,” he blurts.

Merlin moans and lets go of Arthur's arms. “Seriously? You had to do that now?”

“Sorry! Sorry,” Arthur said, waving his arms around. “I just... That's not a lot of time. What are we doing here, Merlin?”

“We were about to have sex.”

Arthur rolls his eyes. “I'm serious. What happens when I leave?”

A shadow crosses over Merlin's face. Arthur averts his eyes. “I wouldn't know,” Merlin says coldly. “What happens when you leave?”

Arthur chews on his bottom lip. He hasn't thought about that, hasn't even surmised all his options, let alone made a choice.

“Gaius wouldn't be opposed to an early retirement,” Merlin says.

“I'd have to spend even more time here.”

“Exactly,” Merlin confirms.

“I can't move here permanently!”

“Well, not here, you'd get an apartment.”

“Gwen has a job, Morgause and Mordred are in school, I can't just,” Arthur makes a face, “uproot my family's whole life!”

Merlin throws his leg back over Arthur's and sits next to him again, his arms crossed. “Not your family that I want,” he says.

“Are you asking me to leave Gwen?” Arthur sits up, rubbing his jaw. His lungs feel like they're three times smaller than they should be, the shock taking all the air out of him. “After only a few weeks?”

“No, I'm asking you to stay with me after putting me through hell for 15 years.” Arthur doesn't even know how to react to that, but luckily he doesn't have to, because Merlin continues, “I'm asking you to stay. Because you'll be happier if you do.”

“It's not that easy,” Arthur counters; he can't believe Merlin doesn't see it.

“No, it really is,” Merlin says simply.

“If you think Gwen will just go with this little plan of yours-“

“I don't! I think she will be hurt and I think she will hate my guts until the day she dies and I think your children will resent me and I think everyone will have to adapt, and that's perfectly fine with me.” Arthur looks sideways at Merlin's face; Merlin is dead serious. “I can be the bad guy. If it means I get to have you, I can be whatever the fuck I need to be.”

“I married Gwen for the wrong reasons,” Arthur admits, “but I still care about her. I can't be so blasé about hurting her, and quite honestly, I'm shocked that you can. She was your friend!”

“And she is wonderful,” Merlin says, turning to look Arthur in the eye. “But what you don't seem to get it that there is little I wouldn't do for you. It's not that I don't care. I just don't care enough for it to be more important than being with you.”

~*~

Gwen slipped under the covers, snuggling up to Arthur's back, her arm snaking around his waist. She kissed the back of Arthur's neck and scratched at his belly gently. He put his hand over hers, but didn't turn around.

“I'm tired,” he said.

“I thought it was supposed to be women who excused themselves with that,” Gwen replied, kissing him again.

“Guess we're not exactly a typical couple.”

“Yeah, I guess,” Gwen agreed. The bed squeaked as she presumably moved to lie on her back. Arthur couldn't feel the warmth of her body near him anymore. “Arthur, be straight with me. Is something wrong?” she asked.

“No,” Arthur said honestly.

“So, you're just... not interested.”

Arthur opened his mouth to correct her, but the truth was that she was right. And that she probably knew it. He felt awful for turning her down so often, for making her doubt herself because he knew what that felt like. He promised himself to make it up to her. He vowed to start working on his marriage.

~*~

“Wait, so are you thinking about taking the job?” Gwen asks incredulously. “Arthur!”

“I- It's a good job. I like it here. I want to think about it.” He tries to keep his eyes on the image of Gwen's face on his screen. The fact that they're not doing this in person was supposed to make it easier, but it doesn't.

“Arthur, my father is sick. He can't take care of two children on his own!” Gwen reasons.

“I know! Which is why we would have to work something else out. I'm just thinking about it, I haven't decided yet,” he says. It feels like a lie.

“We need you here. The kids miss you. I miss you.”

Arthur sighs. “I know,” he says. Wrong answer, judging by the way Gwen's looks at him, her lips parting and her eyebrows creasing together. She looks like she's about to cry. Arthur remembers a time when that would've made him feel a lot worse than it does now. It's still difficult to see.

Gwen visibly collects herself, putting on a polite smile that makes Arthur feel like they're more distant than they've ever been. “Well, if this is what you really want, I'll support you. I wish we'd had more time to prepare, but I'll take care of everything somehow.”

“I just feel like... I've got something here, something important.”

“More important than your family?”

Arthur looks at the door to his room where Merlin is leaning against the doorframe. “I don't know yet,” he says honestly.