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If you had asked Arthur that morning when he woke up what his biggest problem that day would be, he would probably have said an unexpected meeting with his father, or a particularly tricky case landing on his desk. He might have said it would be bad traffic or, far worse, someone damaging his flashy new sports car. Or perhaps he might have said it would be his PA turning up late again.
If you had asked him that morning, whatever he could have imagined, none of it could have possibly come anywhere close to the actual truth.
Arthur’s biggest problem that day certainly did involve his PA, but for once it wasn’t his tardiness, nor him going AWOL as he had the previous week, that was upsetting Arthur’s plans and sending his productivity through the floor. No, this time the problem lay in his clothing.
Who could have foreseen that a suit of all things would derail his day so completely and efficiently?
Merlin had wandered into Arthur’s office that morning – on time for once – and Arthur had glanced up, ready to make a sarcastic comment about his unusually efficient time keeping, only to be rendered temporarily speechless.
Arthur’s mouth opened and closed uselessly as he fought back his immediate reaction of ‘what the fuck?!’
Merlin said his usual, overly bright, ‘good morning!’ and carried on filing reports without so much as a glance in Arthur’s direction.
“Merlin, what-” Arthur broke off and swallowed to try and make the pitch of his voice come back down to a normal level. “What are you wearing?!”
Merlin looked over at Arthur and then down at his outfit for the day. There was nothing in his expression that seemed to say he thought there was anything of the ordinary.
“It’s a suit.” Merlin said, with a frown of confusion in Arthur’s direction.
“I can see that, Merlin.” Arthur said through gritted teeth. “But why are you wearing a… a woman’s suit?”
Merlin’s frown evaporated and he smiled brightly as though a mystery had been solved. Arthur, conversely, felt only more confused.
“Oh! Well, you see there was a bit of an issue back at my flat. The ceiling sort of came down in my room. Some leak in the pipes upstairs. I’ve been telling the landlord for months there was something up with the plaster. It had gone all… kinda… wibbly.” Merlin waved his hands expressively to convey his meaning. “Anyway, I was lucky my bed wasn’t under the worst of it as the bigger bits of plaster could have done me an injury.”
For a moment Arthur was seized by a wave of concern for his hapless PA. Merlin really did have some bad luck.
Merlin had wandered over while he was talking and, when he had finished, he perched on the edge of Arthur’s desk. An action that abruptly drew attention to the fact that Merlin had completely failed to answer the question at hand. The question about why he was wearing a skirt suit. Arthur cleared his throat and tried to avoid looking at Merlin’s surprisingly shapely legs. He’d always thought of Merlin as plain skinny, but those muscles… He closed his eyes for a moment and when he opened them, he was immediately reminded of his initial reaction. Gods but Merlin knew how to wind him up.
“I’m sorry to hear that.” Arthur said, trying to stay polite keep a grip on his temper. “Now, what has that got to do with what you’re wearing?”
“I don’t have a real wardrobe, so all my clothes were on an open rail. Everything I usually wear got wet and covered in plaster dust.” Merlin once again looked as though he thought this clarified things when it absolutely didn’t.
“And?” Arthur prompted.
“And what?”
“Why did you choose to wear-” Arthur cleared his throat again. It was surprisingly hard to keep from looking at Merlin’s legs with him perched so close. “-what you’re wearing instead of getting your clothes cleaned?”
“Oh, well this happened last night, see? So I had to borrow something from my flatmate this morning once we’d finished clearing up.”
“Ah. So I take it your flatmate is a girl.”
“No,” Merlin gave Arthur a bright, uncomplicated, smile. “Will just likes skirts.”
Arthur let his head sink into his hands. Of course Merlin’s flatmate wasn’t a girl. Of course Merlin wouldn’t see the issue with any of this.
“I take it Will is… err…” Arthur searched his brain for the correct term but came up blank.
“No. Will is not ‘err’” Merlin did air-quotes around the word. “He’s totally cis and straight. He’s just cool about clothes. Not that it’s any of your business.” Merlin finished indignantly.
Arthur knew it wasn’t any of his business. He didn’t know why he’d asked really. Other than an ongoing curiosity about Merlin’s own sexuality that he’d been trying to ignore. He rubbed at his face and leaned back in his seat.
“OK, alright, but I’m still lost why you borrowed a skirt suit.”
Merlin shrugged one shoulder and crossed his legs at his ankles. Arthur repressed a frustrated groan at the way the movement once again drew his eyes back to Merlin.
“It was the only suit he had. Unless the office dress regulations have changed since yesterday then I have to wear a suit. Plus, I kinda like it actually.” Merlin smoothed out a fold in the material. Arthur immediately found his mind wandering to the idea of running his own hands over the material… or under it.
“I’m fairly certain the office dress code states-” Arthur began, his throat dry.
“Actually, it only states ‘suit’ for the two genders it sees fit to recognise. No mention of who can and can’t wear skirts.” Merlin interrupted him, looking smug. “I checked.”
“Fair point. But you know if my father sees you in that…” Arthur let the threat hang there, hoping despite his long experience with Merlin that he would see reason now.
Rather than looking worried by the idea Merlin’s smile only grew wider. The glint in his eye warned Arthur that, whatever he was going to hear next, he wasn’t going to like it.
“He already did.”
“Merlin!”
“He laughed and gave me a cheque for £2.50. I think he thought it was some sort of charity fancy dress thing.” Merlin laughed at Arthur’s horrified expression. He pulled said cheque out of a pocket in the skirt (it has pockets?!) and waved it around thoughtfully. “What am I going to do with a cheque for £2.50 from a billionaire? It’s probably worth more for the novelty than the face value. Maybe I’ll auction it off.”
Arthur gave up all hope. He slumped forward and let his forehead hit the desk.
After a few moments of silence Merlin shoved playfully at Arthur’s shoulder.
“Cheer up. I’ll be back to boring old heteronormativity tomorrow and your problem will be solved.”
Turning his head so it rested on the desk, Arthur looked up at Merlin. He was still smiling, but not as brightly. The expression looked false now, like a mask he had put on to please. Arthur found himself yearning for the carefree happiness that had so recently been there in its place.
Arthur let his gaze drop. He was perilously close to Merlin’s hip at this angle. He found he really liked the way the fabric of the skirt accentuated Merlin’s form in ways his usual trousers didn’t. If he was honest with himself (something he rarely ever was) he had been noticing Merlin in ways he shouldn’t for a very long time now - the skirt had just made him acknowledge it.
“I don’t have a problem with it, Merlin. I don’t. It’s just…”
“This company is about as scared of anything queer as it can get.” Merlin finished for him.
Arthur nodded. Which was a difficult action when you had your cheek mushed against the polished wood of a desk.
“It’s OK. I know you’re not like him.” Merlin said.
How did he always know the right thing to say when Arthur was feeling down?
“Do you?” Arthur looked up at Merlin. He doubted Merlin had any inclination at all about how very different he was to Uther.
“I do.” Merlin said, and there was a fierceness in his expression that had something small, warm, and hopeful uncurling in Arthur’s chest.
Merlin reached over, hesitating for a tense moment, before letting his hand settle on Arthur’s hair. Arthur closed his eyes and let out a sigh as long fingers wound their way through his hair, flexing, caressing…
The sound of the printer in the corridor outside the office startled Arthur out of the intimate moment and he sat up quickly, almost knocking Merlin from his perch in his haste to straighten up and resume his mask of professionalism.
Disappointment clouded Merlin’s features and he stood up, stiff and uncomfortable. Arthur’s heart ached. He longed to close the distance that had so abruptly appeared between them.
“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have.” Merlin said. Cold. Fearful. Arthur hated it.
“Perhaps…” Arthur began, feeling fear try to stop him from speaking. He pushed past it. “Perhaps we should pick this up later? Out of the office. When we can talk more… openly.”
Hope blossomed on Merlin’s face and a small, tentative smile returned. “OK. That sounds… nice.”
“My place at eight? Since your flat is a disaster zone apparently.”
“Sure.” Merlin smiled brightly once more, and Arthur’s heart felt like it was going to burst out of his chest.
“Great.” Arthur gripped the armrests of his chair and tried not to panic. What had he suggested? Was this a date? Had he just asked Merlin out?
Merlin glanced over at the closed office door and the blinds that were shut on the internal windows. Then he turned back and quickly leaned down to press a kiss to Arthur’s cheek. “I’ll see you later then.” He said, blushing, then hurried out of the office leaving Arthur alone with his thoughts.
He got nothing else done after that. A whole day of work lost to the ghosts of a hand in his hair, lips on his cheek, the swish of that skirt every time Merlin came in the office to file something or ask him a question that could have been sent by email.
Arthur couldn’t understand how he’d never realised he had a thing for men in women’s clothing before (or maybe it was just Merlin) but he really couldn’t deny it now.
The evening couldn’t come soon enough as far as he was concerned, and Merlin had better not find any other clothes between now and then.