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It's an early day in September and they're laying in Merlin's bed. Bed might be a misnomer, as it's really just a mattress on the floor, right next to a window. Merlin loves the window, it lets him watch the city below, and the trains coming into and out of the city each day. The train to Brighton (or one of them) has just rolled by and it stirs Merlin awake, or out of his sleepy reverie.
Arthur grumbles something and rolls over, burying his face further into the pillow. His own bed is on a bed frame and a box spring, with a headboard and elevated properly off the ground. It's objectively a better bed and a better flat than Merlin's cramped studio, but when they head home for the night, it really doesn't seem to matter which flat they head to.
Merlin, not as fond of sleeping in as his boyfriend is, sits up and stretches before turning to look to Arthur. They're both stark naked from the night before, but it's the nudity of sleep rumbled mornings, not passionate, heated nights. There's nothing wrong with this comfort, and he actually relishes in it, but still, Merlin knows that for any relationship you have to keep that initial spark.
"Arthur?" he asks.
It's clear that Arthur's actually debating pretending that he's still fast asleep, because he hesitates a few moments before grunting his answer.
"Which couple from Love Actually do you think we'd be?"
Arthur goes very still for a few moments. "Are you serious?"
"I mean, let's ignore the fact that Love Actually is very, very straight. Which couple are we?"
Arthur sighs and sits up likewise. It's clear that Merlin is not going to let them go. He scrubs his hand over his face, then leans against Merlin. The sun is streaking across his skin in a way that he's never failed to be charmed by.
"I'm thinking," Merlin says. "I think we'd be Hugh Grant and the cute assistant. You know, I worked for you and then I utterly charmed your trousers off."
Arthur laughs and has to pull away just enough to kiss Merlin, morning breath and all. (Because when it's real love, you don't really think about the morning breath, do you?)
"Fair enough. I mean, look at me now. There's no trousers or anything."
Merlin lifts the blanket and then feigns shock. "And no pants too! I'm scandalized. I can see your bits."
"And wait until I tell you where those bits were last night."
Merlin laughs and kisses Arthur again, then kisses along his shoulder. In a few minutes he'll get up to brush his teeth and wash up. Then he'll come back to bed and they'll have a shag before breakfast. Between the two of them they'll make a decent fry-up, even if Arthur will complain about Merlin's fake vegetarian bacon and Merlin will insist that Arthur's putting too much sugar and milk in his tea. It's a familiar routine, and one Merlin hopes they'll both have for years to come.
"Anyway," Arthur continues. "I think we're Colin Firth and his lady. She was technically employed by him too and he wasn't really charmed at first, and they didn't necessarily understand each other but...there was something there."
"Aren't you glad that I don't speak Portuguese?"
"I'd learn for you if I had to."
After a delay, Merlin snorts.
"How's it go? Eu te amo?" Arthur ventures.
"I love you works."
Instead of getting up, as he planned, Merlin decides the best course of action is to push Arthur back onto the mattress and straddle him. They don't want to get too comfortable with routine, after all.