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🔥Forbaernan🔥
- Savour your Soulmate -
Arthur hated the flame emoji-logo. Hated the silly catch phrase. Hated the ridiculous drink with its stupid name and its horrible taste. Hated every single thing about it, which was exactly why Morgana had asked him to go buy a bottle as a gift for the host of the New Year's party she was dragging him to that evening.
Arthur glared at the bottle of Forbaernan on the shelf in front of him as he remembered the conversation he’d had over the phone with his evil hag of a sister less than thirty minutes ago.
“It’s New Year’s Eve,” Arthur growled, “New. Year’s. Eve. And you’re sending me out to get a bottle of Forbaernan of all things? You know that shit will be sold out everywhere.”
“Don’t be such a grinch, Arthur.” Arthur gripped his phone a bit tighter. He had no trouble picturing the smug smirk on her face when she continued. “It’s the host’s favourite drink, which makes it the perfect present and you know it. Besides, I called the shop near your office. A batch of six bottles arrived this morning. If you go now you might get lucky.”
“Lucky,” Arthur snorted as he hung up the phone, one hand already pushed into the sleeve of his coat.
Arthur stood in front of the shelf that held the last bottle of Forbaernan, lost in thoughts while staring at the seal on the bottle’s cap. It looked like you’d need a blow torch to be able to unscrew the lid, which made sense. A couple of years ago, a chemist named Nimueh had managed to bottle something she’d called Soulmate Essence. As if that didn’t sound gnarly enough, the drink itself was absolutely foul.
But that was the thing, wasn’t it? It only tasted horribly to some people.
Forbaernan was a creamy golden drink, that had tiny flecks of actual 22 karat gold leaf in it. It looked very inviting. Luxurious, too. Honestly, the first time Arthur had seen it, he’d thought it looked like liquid gold. But that wasn’t what made it the hot commodity it had soon become. The drink was supposed to be different for everyone. It was said it smelled and tasted like your soulmate. Or rather, smelled and tasted like your surroundings the first time you’d hear them say your name out loud. After meeting your soulmate and hearing your name from their lips, the drink’s flavour would turn into a spicy mixture of ginger and green apples.
As soon as the drink had become available in shops, people had rushed to get their hands on as many bottles as they could. Everyone and their mums had wanted to know what meeting their soulmate would taste like. And, as promised, it had been a different experience for everyone.
The first time Arthur had tasted Forbaernan, he’d been with his sister and their best friends. Morgana had wrinkled her nose, claiming it smelled like wet dog. To her, the drink tasted like something chemical she couldn’t quite place. Coughing syrup perhaps? She’d quickly poured herself another glass so she could take her sweet time memorizing the drink’s taste and smell before passing it to the pretty girl in the flower dress sitting next to her.
Morgana’s friend Gwen had beamed at her boyfriend Lance, stating that, for her, the drink already tasted like ginger and apples. Lance’s smile had lit up the room. He’d refused to try the drink, since Gwen’s answer told him everything he needed to know. Then, it had been Arthur’s turn. He’d poured himself a glass and had brought it up to his nose, only to start gagging and run for the nearest waist bin. Apparently, Arthur’s soulmate smelled like burnt hair. Later he had tried to take a sip of the foul thing, after which he had told Lance to toss the drab, that reminded him of mushy peas, out the window.
Arthur hadn’t believed it at first. Had thought it smelt as revolting to everyone else too, but the people around him had been playing a prank on him of sorts. But then, one day, Morgana had called him, shouting something about ginger and apples and soulmates.
She had met someone. The someone. Her soulmate. Morgana had been squeezed between a large man and an elderly woman and their soaked golden retriever. She was waiting for her turn at the veterinarian's office so her kitten, Mordy, could get his first shots. Just as the elderly woman’s retriever had started to shake himself dry, covering everyone with eau-de-wet dog, a tall man with blond curls had walked in, holding a clipboard.
“Morgana Pendragon?” the veterinarian, doc Leon, had asked, and then everything had clicked.
“If you’re not buying this, I’d be more than happy to take the bottle,” a man behind Arthur said, his arm already stretched out to take it from the shelf. Arthur saw a set of long, elegant fingers wrap around the bottle’s body.
Arthur turned around to look at the man who’d stolen his bottle and reacted on pure instinct. He didn’t even realise he was snatching the bottle out of the other man’s hands until he held it against his chest. Arthur blinked, surprised at his own actions. He looked down at the bottle and then up, where his eyes found a pair of brightest blue eyes he’d ever seen. The man in front of him simply stared at Arthur in shock.
“What the-”, the man started, right when Arthur noticed his full lips and perfect cheekbones. His pale face was framed by thick black hair that seemed to curl a little at the tips. It looked soft and made Arthur want to reach out and run his fingers through it. Which is exactly why the part of his brain responsible for basic manners refused to cooperate.
“Are you blind, I’m holding it aren’t I?” came out of Arthur’s mouth.
“Yes. Yes, you do,” the man said, his voice laced with the forced patience of someone addressing a naughty child, “but you’ve been staring at it for five minutes, so I wondered if you were planning on buying it or –”
Rather than saying something even remotely charming or, say, give this piece of tall dark and handsome his phone number, Arthur turned into a blunt piece of shit. And wasn’t that just perfect.
“I am. Buying it, that is. Back off.” Arthur cradled the bottle against his chest.
The man blinked a couple of times. Arthur was about to apologise after seeing the shock in the other man’s eyes. Maybe even hand the bottle over and deal with Morgana’s wrath after just so he could make the hurt look in those sky-blue eyes go away. And that’s when the man’s face hardened.
“No need to be such an ass about it,” the man said with a scowl on his gorgeous face.
“I’m not an ass. And this is mine,” Arthur said. “Look, I’m sorry, I’m sure they’ll be able to find you another one of these in the back.”
“Yeah, you sound like you’re sorry alright. You snatched it out of my hand. Don’t be such a prat and go ask the clerk for another one of these yourself.”
“Not happening. I’m already late as it is. Besides, this shit tastes awful anyways. Might want to get something else.”
“So you don’t even like what’s in the bottle you just stole from me?”
“No one does.”
The other man rolled his eyes.
“Not that it’s any of your business,” Arthur sneered, “but I’m under strict orders to get this exact type of drink for a party I’m already dreading going to. So you’re not making it even worse for me by having me show up empty handed.”
“Oh for crying out loud.” The other man stomped his foot. Stomped. His. Foot. It looked so ridiculous and endearing at the same time, Arthur couldn’t help but laugh. Which, of course, did nothing whatsoever to calm the other man down.
The man stomped after Arthur to the cash register, where he asked the clerk for another bottle of Forbaernan.
“We’re all out,” the kid behind the counter said, his eyes flicking nervously between the two men.
“Then I’m sorry to say this man is holding my bottle.” The dark-haired man reached for the bottle in Arthur’s hand, who quickly turned away.
“Oh please."
“Yes. Please.” The man tapped his foot impatiently, holding out a hand.
“Not happening.”
Arthur turned his back to the man behind him, refusing to acknowledge how the flush of anger on the man’s cheeks made him look even better. The poor clerk looked embarrassed as Arthur swiped his black card through the machine. The kid mumbled a quiet “Happy holidays.”, which was drowned by an angry snort coming from the man next to Arthur.
Arthur left the shop, feeling a pair of angry blue eyes burn a hole through the back of his coat.
At least Morgana was happy about how it all went down, Arthur thought as he steered his car through narrow lanes, frustrated at how difficult it was to see anything since the snowfall had picked up in the past half hour. Honestly, they could have just celebrated at home. But no. Morgana had to go to Leon’s co-worker's party in the middle of nowhere. Had to drag Arthur with her. Had to order him to go get that damned bottle and harass what Arthur had come to think of as some sort of wrathful god-like creature in the process.
After explaining his ordeal to Morgana, she’d simply shrugged it off, thanked Arthur for his trouble and had taken the bottle from him to wrap it. The bottle was for their host, Leon’s co-worker, a girl named Freya.
"Don’t worry Arthur,” Morgana said as he pulled up in front of a small house that was completely covered in twinkling lights, “there’s no one who will accuse you of spreading too much holiday cheer.”
Arthur rolled his eyes but Morgana didn’t even wait for a reply, eager as she was to go inside where Leon was already waiting.
The tracks his car had made in the snow were already completely filled up, Arthur noticed with a frown. He doubted the winter service vehicles’ route went as far out of the city as this. Another car stopped behind Arthur's, its lights so bright Arthur couldn’t see who was inside. He figured he’d meet everyone soon enough and followed Morgana through the snow.
“Morgana, how nice to finally meet you. Leon’s told us so much about you!” a beautiful woman with long brown hair said, as she pulled Morgana into a tight hug. Must be Freya. As soon as Arthur got close enough, the woman hugged him, too. Arthur wasn’t much of a hugger, and he definitely wasn’t in a very cuddly mood, but somehow Freya’s enthusiasm rubbed off on him. When she let go, he felt his lips had curled up into a smile.
While Freya was hugging him, the last person to arrive to the party reached the front door as well. They were carrying some sort of fragrant bouquet, Arthur thought, as the delicate scent of peonies reminded him of summer. He was about to turn around and ask the man where he’d managed to find those this time of year, when Freya squealed into his ear.
“Merlin!”
“What kind of name is Merlin,” Arthur started, as he turned around, “I’ve never –”
Shit.
He froze.
Peony-man froze.
Arthur's brain stopped working. This was him. The gorgeous blue-eyed god who’d tried to snatch the bottle of Forbaernanfrom him mere hours ago. The one who’d called him a prat and had been positively fuming when Arthur had left the shop with what the man - Merlin apparently – had considered his bottle. The bottle. The one Arthur was currently holding to hand over to Freya, who had caught onto the fact that something was amiss and was currently squinting at Merlin, then Arthur and back again. Which meant that, behind his back, Morgana was undoubtedly doing the same.
Shit.
Arthur wasn’t sure at what point his jaw had dropped. He noticed Merlin’s had, too. If it hadn’t been for the snowflakes twirling around Merlin’s frame, Arthur would have thought there was something wrong with his eyesight. Merlin didn’t move. At all. He simply stared at Arthur and blinked at him for what felt like minutes. Arthur could see the snowflakes land on his dark hair, and on his neck, where the melting snow would undoubtedly slide down his collar. And yet the man still didn’t move.
“You two know each other,” Morgana said, breaking the spell that had come over the four of them. It wasn’t a question. It definitely didn’t need answering. Merlin shoved the bouquet in Freya’s hands without saying a word and went into the living room. Voices and laughter drifted through the door as Merlin opened it.
“Explain,” Morgana said. So Arthur did.
In the end, the dinner party wasn’t as bad as Arthur had expected it to be. Even though he hadn’t had any intentions of proving Morgana wrong when she’d called him a grinch earlier, Arthur found himself chuckling at most of the jokes and enjoying the company.
The food was great. Drinks were, too. And as soon as it became clear no one would be driving home that night due to the heavy snowfall, Freya’s friend Gwaine kept topping up everyone’s glasses as if there would be no tomorrow. Which, at the pace everyone kept guzzling down Freya’s wine, might actually be true for some.
People seemed surprised at how silent Tall Dark and Handsome was, which, as Arthur had learned, was very unusual. Merlin hadn’t said much at first, although Arthur caught him looking in his direction several times throughout the evening. Whenever their eyes met, Merlin was quick to look away. Whether it was the copious amounts of wine, or simply the fact that it wasn’t in his nature, Arthur couldn’t tell, but eventually the man did start to engage more. He’d chosen a seat at the other end of the table, in what Arthur assumed was an attempt to get as far away from him as possible, so Arthur couldn’t make out much of what was said. Nevertheless, he found himself enjoying the man’s unbridled laughter at Gwaine's jokes and felt his eyes drift over towards the far end of the table whenever he saw Merlin's hands move, every time the man told yet another anecdote which had the people around him ooh-ing and aah-ing for five minutes straight.
Inevitably, the conversation drifted to the effects of the bottle of Forbaernan Arthur and Morgana had brought for Freya to open at midnight to have with their desserts.
“Merlin’s smells like peonies and tastes like water,” Freya said in Merlin‘s stead when Morgana had asked everyone what it tasted like to them. “He’s a hopeless romantic. Whenever he goes anywhere, he ends up bringing a bouquet that has them in the hopes he’ll meet his soulmate.”
Freya gestured at the large bouquet of peonies she’d placed at the centre of the table. Arthur tried to hide a smile when he noticed the tips of Merlin’s ears turn red.
“What about you?” Merlin asked, his eyes suddenly earnest. It was the first time he’d said anything to Arthur that evening. He was about to answer, when Morgana jumped in.
“Burnt hair and mushy peas,” Morgana giggled. “The poor thing’s been traumatized ever since he found out. “Refuses to order anything that has peas in it, afraid that’ll mean someone sets his pretty golden locks on fire.”
“No peas on the menu tonight,” Freya said with a smile, although her eyes did flicker towards the candles for a moment. She pushed one a bit farther to the centre of the table.
Out of the corner of his eye, Arthur noticed Merlin reached for his wine glass. The man downed its contents in one go. Arthur pretended he wasn’t looking at how those long fingers curled around his glass. Pretended his mouth had gone dry from the tannins in the wine rather than from watching Merlin’s Adam’s apple bob as he swallowed his drink.
“You’re in trouble,” Morgana whispered.
Arthur couldn’t disagree.
After dinner, Merlin was the first to get up and help clear the table, while Gwaine announced they’d be playing party games until midnight. Everyone else left for the living room, but Arthur picked up a couple of plates and followed Merlin into the kitchen. He set them down gingerly as he looked from Merlin who’d started loading the dishwasher to Freya, who was preheating the oven for what everyone had called her world-famous baked Alaska.
“Hi,” Arthur started as soon as Freya left the kitchen to clean up the table. Before Merlin could say anything, Arthur continued. “I’m sorry about what happened earlier. I was rude and I shouldn’t have been. It’s just that all this soulmate talk has always bothered me. People act as if everything is decided for them, which it isn’t. People should get a choice in who they end up with, you know? What if your soulmate ends up being someone you don’t get along with? Or is someone you’re not even the least bit attracted to, or doesn’t make you laugh? But the universe fucked up somehow and you end up with someone who makes you miserable just because you’re expected to be with them.”
Arthur paused to breathe, aware he was rambling. When Merlin kept quiet, he continued.
“Anyways, you were absolutely right, earlier. I was an ass and I shouldn’t have been. So, truce?”
Merlin looked up at him and smiled. It seemed a bit sad, somehow. He nodded, which was good enough for Arthur, who immediately took a step forward, his hand already stretched out.
“Arthur Pendragon,” he said to Merlin, who’d taken Arthur’s hand in a firm grip. His hands felt cool against Arthur’s skin, which didn’t explain the sudden heat that rushed through Arthur’s body. At all.
“Merlin Emrys,” he said. “Nice to meet you Art-”
“Meeeeeeeerls!" Gwaine slurred as he rushed in to envelop Merlin in a bear hug. In doing so, he made Merlin stagger backwards. Arthur flexed his hand and stared at it, bewildered at the sudden loss of contact.
“We’re playing charades next,” Gwaine said, his tongue thick from all the wine he’d had, “You’re on my team! We’ll be kicking ass.”
Merlin chuckled and squeezed the man’s shoulder as he let himself be dragged out into the living room. He looked back at Arthur.
“Join us.”
He didn’t have to ask twice.
Arthur ended up forming a team with Merlin and Gwaine, although it didn’t take long for Gwaine to pass out on the sofa, leaving Merlin and Arthur to fend for themselves. Which they did. The two of them absolutely annihilated everyone else. They worked together in perfect sync, getting the other’s hints right away.
“You’re cheating!” Leon shouted when Arthur guessed the movie Fight club after Merlin had done nothing but place a finger against his lip as if to tell Arthur to be quiet.
“Oh come on, that one was easy,” Arthur grinned, feeling Merlin beam back at him, “No one talks about fight club!”
Leon rolled his eyes and huffed, which was Merlin’s queue to high-five Arthur and drop back down on the sofa with Arthur, who pretended he didn’t notice how close Merlin sat to him. Merlin’s grin lit up the room.
“At least your taste in movies isn’t as bad as your taste in beverages,” Merlin chuckled. His face was so close to Arthur’s, he could feel Merlin’s breath brush his skin.
“Oh I’ve got great taste,” Arthur said, his voice so low he doubted anyone but Merlin could hear him. “Especially when it comes to men.”
Merlin blinked a few times, and then rolled his head back, revealing the smooth skin of his neck. His body trembled with held-back laughter. “Did you just come on to me? Cause... that... was... so bad!” Merlin wheezed with tears in his eyes. Arthur chuckled and countered with a nudge of his elbow, which ended all restraint Merlin had shown at holding back his laughter. This, of course drew the attention from everyone in the room. People laughed, someone whistled. Gwaine woke up for half a second to shout “Bananas!” before he went back to his snoring.
When everyone finally quieted down and focused on the games again, Merlin sat even closer to Arthur than he had before. Arthur felt the man brush his arm. Merlin’s eyes met Arthur’s before he reached for the bowl of olives, took one and sucked on it before putting it in his mouth. Arthur’s mouth went dry when he watched Merlin lick his finger clean. As if to show he was fully aware of the effect his actions had on Arthur, Merlin winked at him with a sly smirk on his face.
After making sure the others were focused on Leon, Merlin leaned in closer. His breath felt hot against Arthur’s neck. Merlin’s voice was so deep, his words came out in a growl. “That’s how you come on to someone you’ve been fantasising about all evening.”
Arthur’s breath hitched. He needed a moment to cool down. Why didn’t anyone else notice the temperature in the room had skyrocketed in the last five seconds? He sighed in relief when he noticed Freya got up to get started on dessert and excused himself so he could follow her to the kitchen.
When asked if she needed any help, Freya told Arthur he could put the tray of baked Alaska in the oven for her. Arthur opened the oven door and took the tray. He leaned forward and -
“Shit!” Arthur shouted as he felt the oven rack sear the skin on his arm sending a flash of pain through him. The stench of burnt hair filled the kitchen. Arthur froze and stared at his reddening arm. Freya rushed over to him, a bag of frozen vegetables in her hand. She pressed it against his arm.
Then suddenly everyone seemed to have run to the kitchen. Arthur felt someone push him towards the kitchen sink, heard them open the tap. “Arthur, are you okay?” someone asked.
Merlin asked.
And then it all clicked.
Arthur hadn’t said much. He’d let Merlin boss him around and had kept his arm under the running water until it had gone as numb as the rest of his body. The others had gone back to the living room, where Freya was about to serve the dessert that had somehow found its way into the oven without any more accidents.
“You don’t have to stay here,” Arthur said, still dazed.
“Are you sure you’re alright?” Merlin asked, his voice earnest.
Arthur nodded. Then he reached for the bag of frozen vegetables someone had thrown on the counter. He couldn’t read the label, but he didn’t have to.
In the other room, he heard people laugh. Heard Gwaine’s booming voice as he started to count down.
Ten!
Arthur took the bag and held it up so Merlin could read the label. The man’s eyes widened.
Nine!
“Peas.” Merlin blinked, his lips already curling up into a smile. “I thought... Freya said...”
Eight!
“And I always bring peonies.” Merlin leaned closer.
Seven!
“This doesn’t have to mean...” Arthur started. He reached out and placed his hand on Merlin’s hip. “We have the bottle. We could check.”
Six!
Merlin shook his head. “I don’t think we have to.”
Five!
“We don’t.” Arthur placed his free hand on Merlin’s other hip and pulled the other man closer.
Four!
Merlin snaked his arm around Arthur's neck.
Three!
“I’m glad it’s you.”
Two!
“Me, too.”
One!
“Happy New Year,” Merlin murmured against Arthur’s lips.