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"Explain to me why I'm doing this for you again?" Merlin asked as he straightened his tie for the fifth time.
"Because you're my best mate."
"Lancelot is your best mate," Merlin replied with a sigh. He caught Arthur's eye in the mirror and stifled the urge to roll his eyes. "I'm just your flatmate. Why can't you ask him to do this?"
"I've already told you, Merlin. Lance is dating Gwen. It's weird enough that I dated her first. I don't need to add dating him, even if it's all just an act. And you live with me, which makes it perfect. Father will think our relationship is of the progressive variety and hopefully stop with all the stupid matchmaking."
Merlin just sighed once more and gave up on the tie and his hair. Arthur, with his sun god looks and fighter's build looked stunning in a tux, there was no denying that. Merlin, however, looked like a child playing dress-up in his father's closet. He wasn't meant for suits and tuxedos and fancy restaurants. He was an artist, for crying out loud. And he had been doing a good job of being a starving artist until Gwen had introduced him to Arthur who had, out of spite for his father, insisted that Merlin move into his plush flat in the middle of Knightsbridge of all places.
Not that Merlin was complaining. Before, he had lived in a tiny, cramped flat in Hackney where every noise had him ducking behind what little furniture he had. His place had been broken into on countless occasions, so by the time Arthur had arrived like a knight in shining armour, Merlin had been down to just a mattress, a broken coffee table, two folding chairs and dishes for one, all of which were chipped. It had been mortifying, having Arthur see the squalor Merlin lived in, but for all that Arthur was a prat – and he was massive prat – he never teased Merlin about that.
"Besides, this shouldn't be hard for you, seeing as how you are gay."
"What?! I am not."
"Yes you are. You were dating that fellow who lived upstairs from you. ."
"You know very well I wasn't dating him. He was as straight as an arrow." Merlin glanced away, throat tight. Arthur and Will had never got on, so Merlin had never really talked about Will much to him, but he felt the need to clarify. "He followed some city girl out here and then didn't have the heart to go home when she broke it off with him. He figured it'd be like old times, us living so close by."
Old times, however, had never included Merlin working what Will deemed the most dangerous job of all, cashier at an all-night convenience store. It had been a fluke that Will had stopped by the night the store was robbed, and he had taken the bullet meant for Merlin, his face going from stunned to blank within only moments of the whole terrible incident. His death had always weighed heavily on Merlin, but it had also been the motivating factor in him accepting Arthur's offer. Now he had a studio of his own in a high-rise apartment that came with a maid and a cook. The money he made working two part-time jobs was enough to cover the pittance rent – Merlin had insisted that he pay something, as he wasn't about to live on someone else's charity – and have enough to send home to his mother.
As though sensing his mood, Arthur quirked a smile at Merlin in the mirror, then, satisfied with his appearance, grabbed his coat and headed for the door. As he passed by Merlin, he reached out to ruffle the already unmanageable locks.
"Now, remember, we've been dating for three years—"
"We've been living together for four. Your father knows that, Arthur."
"Don't interrupt, it's rude. We've been dating for three years, because we were just friends for that first year. We'll keep to the truth as much as possible; my father can smell a lie a mile away, but if we hedge we should be okay. He'll offer to order champagne—"
"Which you hate. You only drink red wine, and even then you only drink ridiculously expensive reds." Merlin paused a beat before adding on an insincere, "sorry."
"Really, Merlin, do you just find it impossible to let someone finish a thought before injecting your two cents?" Arthur was glaring, but his tone was one of resignation, tinged with an undercurrent of fondness.
"Only with you," was Merlin's cheeky reply.
"Mm. It's good you know my tastes; helps with believability. Lightweight that you are, I'll order you wine by the glass so we don't end with a repeat of Lance and Gwen's engagement party.
Merlin blushed as he hurried into the lift after Arthur. "I told you me drinking was a bad idea. And anyway, not only did she stay the night, she made breakfast. And we went out several more times after that. She was charmed by my serenade."
"She was clearly just the same brand of idiot as you. But for the love of god, Merlin, do not bring up that story. You are a terrible liar and that happened four months ago. I can hardly see my father believing that we're in a loving, stable relationship if you start bringing up drunken conquests." Arthur's irritation only lasted a moment though, before he was reaching out to ruffle Merlin's hair once more. "I tell you what, once this is over, I'll look into remodeling your studio. It looked a little cramped the last time I was in there."
"You don't—" Merlin bit his tongue to keep from finishing the sentence. Arthur had made it clear over the last four years that he was perfectly aware of what he did and did not have to do, so if he offered to do something, it was in Merlin's best interest to just accept it graciously. "Thank you."
Arthur shot him private smile as he held the door open, waiting until Merlin was safely tucked inside before slamming it shut and rounding the car to the driver's seat. Then they were off to the restaurant, each mentally going over all the information they had been given by the other to make this a successful endeavor.
"Explain to me again how we ended up like this?"
Merlin's voice, plaintive and tired, floated out of the large walk-in closet he was currently hanging their clothes in. Arthur collapsed into one of the leather arm chairs, a glass of scotch in one hand and the fingers of the other pressed between his eyes. It was all he could do not to snap at Merlin, given that the whole thing was as much his fault as it was Merlin's.
"I will kill Morgana for this," he muttered, then jumped when Merlin suddenly appeared in front of him.
"Yes, well, leave some for me. I cannot believe she suggested this! She knows how terrified I am of Uther. A whole week. Sharing a house. With HIM!"
Arthur frowned at his friend, finally aware of just how stressed out Merlin was. "Look, it will be fine. We survived dinner—"
"Only just! And that was two hours. This is a whole fucking week, Arthur. Seven days! He'll kill me."
"I think he'd only consider death he thought I was the one taking up the duff," Arthur replied mildly. "He's hardly going to kill you otherwise. He just won't be particularly friendly."
Merlin spluttered, his face turning going from its previous ashen to bright red. "Could you not talk about our non-existent sexual relationship," he hissed.
"You're making too big a deal of this, Merlin. It will fine. Consider it a vacation. We'll do some skiing, perhaps some shopping." He eyed Merlin's winter coat with disdain. "Definitely shopping. How do you stay warm in that thing, Merlin?"
Chin tilted up defensively, Merlin opened his mouth to make a scathing reply only to be interrupted by Morgana's unannounced arrival.
"Oh, what a pity. Lover's tiff already?"
"Morgana, you know what's at stake here. Why on earth are you doing this to us?"
Furious Arthur was a sight to behold, Merlin thought, and he pulled out his camera as discreetly as possible. He managed to snap several shots and promised himself that he would print them in color and black and white as he went through them. Tucking the camera back in its case, Merlin cleared his throat, calling an end to the argument at hand.
"Not that I condone Morgana's actions at all, but I'm starved. Could we please find somewhere to eat?"
Morgana looked contrite all of a sudden, and Arthur knew without a doubt that he very much did not want to hear her next words.
"That's what I was coming to tell you. Olaf," she paused to wrinkle her nose distastefully at the horrific name, then continued, "and Vivian are joining us for lunch. I'm sorry, Arthur. I did try to convince him that you two needed the afternoon alone, but he insisted.
He had half a mind to refuse, but the moment Merlin saw the look on Arthur's face, he simply sighed. "I suppose I'll need to change then, yeah?"
"Yes. It isn't particularly fancy, so the black trousers and charcoal button-down I picked out for you on Saturday will do. And bring the new coat, Merlin. That one is ridiculous."
"Just because it isn't up to your snobbish standards, Morgana, does not mean you need to insult Merlin's clothing."
Arthur glared at her until she left, her laughter filtering through the door. Without looking at Merlin – who was giving him a look that clearly said hypocrite I – Arthur disappeared into the closet, returning with two outfits. He laid them out across the bed and turned towards the bathroom before he froze. He paled as a sense of horror washed over him.
"Merlin...."
"Yes, Arthur?"
"Please tell me that there is another door leading to another bedroom."
There was a long moment of silence, then the sound of Merlin opening and closing doors. "Um, no, this is the only bedroom. Why?"
"Did you notice anything...odd?"
Arthur could almost swear he heard the wheels turning in Merlin's head as he gazed around the room and took in their surroundings.
"Surely he doesn't expect us to share a bed," Merlin said, sounding scandalized.
"He's either calling my bluff or—no, he's definitely calling my bluff. And there's no sofa, either, only armchairs." Arthur huffed and turned his steely gaze on Merlin. "You are sleeping on the floor. I refuse to share a bed with you."
"Why should I have to sleep on the floor. This is all your fault, after all. You just couldn't tell your father no."
"Of course I couldn't! And after Sophia, well, I couldn't ask a woman to pose as my lover. That's like inviting disaster."
There was a snort from Merlin's side of the room, but Arthur was too tired to deal with anything else. "Look, let's just get dressed and deal with one conflict at a time, all right?"
"Yeah, sure. I'll just, um." Merlin waved his hand towards the bathroom and scooped up the suit Morgana had helped him pick out. Slipping into the bathroom, Merlin stripped off his jeans, long-sleeved shirt and ratty coat, exchanging them for the higher quality ware. When he was through, he opened the door to let Arthur in and they stood side by side, straightening their hair. Merlin was just losing his patience with his own when Arthur's hands stopped his harried movements.
"Idiot. It shouldn't surprise me that you can't even seem to groom yourself. Let me, or goodness knows what that cow will say to you. She was absolutely horrid to Morgana when they first met."
A quick run-through with damp hands and a dollop of gel later and Merlin was ready to go, hair tamed for the time being. Arthur gave him a quick once over before nodding and they headed downstairs to wait for Morgana and Uther to join them.
When Arthur opened the door for Merlin at the restaurant, he received a glare to which he smothered a smirk. He waited until Olaf and Vivian appeared before making his next move. He dropped his hand to Merlin's lower back as they followed the host to their table, aware of the eyes on them. He was also aware of the way Merlin flinched, though he doubted anyone else noticed.
Everything seemed to flow smoothly until they were halfway through dinner. Their movements were uncoordinated, and so when Arthur went to drape one arm over the back of Merlin's chair, Merlin was doing the same. Their hands tangled when they tried to pour wine for each other and Merlin let out the most undignified squeak when Arthur reached up to brush his fingers along the nape of his neck. The casual touches they usually shared with women were, it seemed, going to trip them up and expose their farce of a relationship.
"So, Merlin," Olaf said, his voice dripping with disdain, "Tell me what it is you do, exactly."
Merlin's eyes lit up as they always did when he talked about his art. "I'm a painter, mostly, though I do dabble in photography and digital art occasionally. I've done several—"
"Oh, how quaint." Vivian's tone suggested she thought otherwise and her smile was brittle. "But that's not a real job. Surely you know that. I mean, you can't even afford to contribute money to the household, can you?"
Twin spots of colour appeared on Merlin's cheeks and he dropped his eyes to the table. The fact that he didn't make very much money had always been a sore spot for him, and to have it brought up in front of everyone was embarrassing to say the least.
"I wonder how long the appeal will last." She continued on with her condescending comments, seemingly unaware of Merlin's discomfort. Arthur felt a muscle in his cheek twitch and he gripped his fork tightly. "I mean, you must be a drain on Arthur's goodwill, not to mention his finances."
"I really don't see how that is any of your business, Vivian," Arthur bit out. "And while Merlin certainly is not paid an outrageous amount of money to simply sit around like some over-made up doll, he is hardly a lesser person for it. He is, in fact, one of the most responsible, reliable people I know."
"Not exactly the words of true love," Vivian retorted, flashing Merlin a cold smile. She turned looked at Arthur, face softening. "I just don't understand the appeal of sharing your life with someone who can barely afford to keep themselves alive without depending on the charity of their friends and family."
Merlin flushed at that, but before he could think of something smart to say in reply, Morgana took action. While reaching for the basket of bread, her elbow connected with Vivian's glass of red wine, sending it splashing across the front of her white blouse.
"Oh, dear me. What have I done. Please, you must let me clean that up."
"Look at what you've done!" Vivian's screech turned heads throughout the restaurant and Uther glared at his stepdaughter.
"Olaf, I apologise for my daughter's clumsiness. Please, Vivian, let us pay to have your blouse cleaned."
Arthur let out a breath of relief when the cheque arrived and Uther waved away Olaf's attempts to pay. With a look that clearly said 'we will be talking about this later,' he paid for their meal and ushered Arthur, Morgana and Merlin back out to the car. The drive back to the house was quiet, the air stifling.
When they reached the house, Uther held out a hand to stall Arthur when he would have made his escape.
"Your...friend may head up, but I would like to speak with you."
"Yes father. Merlin, why don't you rest for a bit? We'll stay in today."
"Yeah, all right."
Merlin trudged up the stairs, thankful that he didn't have to sit through whatever lecture it was Arthur and Morgana were about to get. In the room, he bypassed the bed and headed straight for the bathroom with its magnificent bathtub. Turning on the water, Merlin hummed as he shed his clothes and wrapped a towel about his waist while he slipped back into the bedroom for the iPod Arthur had gifted him on his last birthday. He attached it to the speakers he had saved up for and carried them into the bathroom with him. The water was near-scalding when he finally sank down in the tub and Merlin leaned back, eyes closing as he lost himself to music and thought.
"Merlin?"
Arthur was a little surprised to find the bed empty when he finally entered the room nearly two hours later, but it only took him a moment to track down his wayward pseudo-boyfriend. With a grimace, Arthur snagged one of the large towels hanging on the wall and set it aside. The water was cold when he stuck his hand in to pull out the plug and Merlin was sound asleep.
"Merlin, you idiot. You are going to drown one of these days. Or give yourself hypothermia," Arthur growled, but he manhandled Merlin out of the tub and wrapped the towel around him with a degree of gentleness that belied his words.
Merlin managed to remain sound asleep until Arthur dumped him on the bed, then he stretched and stared up blearily, features still sleep-soft. "Fell asleep in the tub again, didn't I?"
"Yes, and I would just like to say for the record that I will not be the one to tell your mother that it was your own stupidity that killed you, so stop."
"Sorry," Merlin replied, but he didn't sound like he meant it.
Arthur just shook his head, sitting down on the edge of the bed without giving it much thought. "It's expected to storm tonight. They thought the storm would move around us, but apparently it's decided to strike us head on." He sighed. "At least the slopes will be nice when it's over. And because of the storm, Father has cancelled dinner plans with Olaf and his daughter. She's completely dreadful. I can't believe my father thinks I would actually—"
The bedroom door swung open and Morgana burst in. Her eyes widened when she saw them sitting on the bed together with Merlin in only a towel, but then her mouth curved up in a mischievous smile.
"Oh, good, you're already in character. Uther's on his way," she said before disappearing just as suddenly as she has appeared.
"Shit." Arthur looked panicked for a moment, before becoming unnervingly calm. Just as he heard his father's footsteps at the door, Arthur launched himself at Merlin, catching him off guard.
The kiss, they would later agree, had to have been the worst in history. Their noses bumped, their teeth clacked against one another and Merlin let out a shrill sound of surprise as he attempted to shove Arthur away from him. They broke apart only when Uther cleared his throat, eyes hard as he regarded them. Merlin let out a nervous laugh, then recalled his state of undress and dove behind Arthur.
"Uh, Father...was there something you needed?"
Uther studied them for a long moment before his brow smoothed out, and his tone was clipped when he spoke. "Your sister has volunteered you and your...friend to make dinner. Please see that it is ready by seven o'clock."
Merlin peeked out from behind Arthur's shoulder to watch Uther disappear back down the hall. "He really, really hates me, doesn't he?"
"No, but I think he's beginning to suspect. We need to try harder."
"How? It was hard enough holding your hand when we were at the restaurant!"
Arthur grimaced. "Well, we can't be too obvious about it or he'll only think we're faking it."
"Arthur, in case it has slipped your mind, we are only faking it."
"He needs to see us being...couple-y, but it can't seem staged. Oh, I know, tonight, after dinner, we'll have drinks in the living room. It's what I used to do with Sophia, that back-stabbing, soul-sucking whore who was using me to get back at her boyfriend."
Merlin gave Arthur's arm a sympathetic pat as he scooted back around to the side of the bed, intent now on getting dressed. "Right, well, I suppose that's okay, though I'm taking a firm stand against snogging again just for your father's sake." Merlin shuddered. "He'd probably poison my drink."
His back was to Arthur, so he didn't see the sudden glint in his eye, but Merlin was no fool. Arthur's prolonged silence boded ill. Once he had tugged on jeans, a t-shirt and his favourite hoodie, Merlin slipped socked feet into his trainers and moved to stand in front of Arthur.
"I mean it. No putting on a show just because you think your father doesn't believe us. I bruise easily and the last thing I need is you marking me up where he'll be forced to see it all week."
Arthur waved him away with an undignified snort. "No, I thought about, but knowing Morgana, she'd turn up with a bloody camera and then have it posted all over the internet by bedtime. We'll just have to be..." His lips curled back with distaste as he spit out, "lovey-dovey without excessive fondling of one another."
And that, Merlin thought as they headed downstairs to begin dinner preparations, was an image he really didn't need.
When Arthur's hand came down on Merlin's thigh two and half hours later, he nearly leapt out of his skin. Merlin glared at the offending appendage for a moment before recalling why it was there. Then he plastered on his widest smile and practically cooed in Arthur's ear.
"Would you like another drink, darling?" Merlin refrained from grabbing Arthur's wrist and wrenching his hand away when the fingers tightened their grip reflexively, but only because Arthur was just enough of an arse to fight back and Merlin didn't need to be humiliated in front of Uther by just how out of shape he was in comparison to the man's son.
"That would be lovely, sweetheart." How Arthur maintained such a calm façade when choking out endearments was beyond Merlin.
With a muttered oath, Merlin extracted himself from the couch's deep cushions, pausing in front of Uther's chair. "Um, Mr. Pendragon, may I get you anything while I'm up?"
Uther's gaze was unwavering as he stared silently at Merlin. Finally, he inclined his head. "Scotch. On the rocks."
"Oh, Merlin," Morgana called from her place by the fire. "While you're up—"
"Get it yourself, she-devil," Merlin all but snarled. He was too stressed out to be afraid of her.
"Now, that's rather rude. Arthur, can't you get your boyfriend to behave? He's been so cold to me all day."
Merlin had his back to the others as he bent over to fetch the glasses and bottle of scotch from beneath the mini bar, but he stilled, blanching at Morgana's words, suddenly regretting his discourteous behavior. Morgana was Uther's princess. Merlin, on the other hand, was dead. His hand was shaky as he poured the drinks, and he knew it wasn't just from fatigue.
Arthur gave an exaggerated yawn. "Perhaps I would feel bad for you, Morgana, if I weren't well acquainted with the number of perfectly nice young men you chew up and spit out on an almost hourly basis. Merlin just has the sense not to be suckered in by pretty face."
Morgana's laugh was genuine and Merlin let out a sigh of relief as he pulled out another glass for her. She drank like Uther did, and he filled their glasses accordingly. Arthur would want no ice and his glass only a quarter full to keep from over indulging. Drinks in hand, Merlin made a quick circuit around the room to drop off the first two and then cosied down beside Arthur, passing him his glass after stealing a fortifying sip. Arthur's smile was half fond and half chastising.
There was some struggle to arrange their limbs, with Arthur going for the over-the-shoulder grip while Merlin attempted to slip one arm around his neck. Once they untangled themselves and settled down, then it was a matter of where Merlin should place his head and it was growing increasingly awkward when Morgana finally took pity on them.
"Well, I for one, am completely knackered. I think I'll head to bed. Arthur, you really should get Merlin to bed as well. He's been looking a bit peaked all day. I don't think the flight here agreed with him."
There was real concern in her voice, and Arthur cursed himself for not noticing earlier. He had forgotten how much Merlin hated flying – no matter how short the trip – and Arthur was surprised at how well Merlin had held himself together.
"All right you, let's get you upstairs. You should have said something," he added, chastising.
"I was okay, this time. I think it just all caught up with me."
The stress of flying and being in close quarters to Uther was more than Merlin's poor mind could really deal with, and the false cheer he had assumed suddenly fled, leaving him feeling slightly weak in the knees. He was thankful for Arthur's strength, then, as he was pulled to his feet, one arm tucked around the strong shoulders.
"Father, if you'll excuse us?"
Uther's eyebrows rose, but he only nodded, his eyes tracking their slow progress out of the room. As Morgana passed by, she pressed a kiss to the top of his head. "Don't stay up too late," she murmured. "And don't forget to take your medication. I've been a good girl so far, but if I think you're being stubborn, I'll tell Arthur."
"Go to bed, witch." Uther's words lacked heat, and Morgana just laughed at the insult as she headed for her own room.
Merlin woke slowly, his body comfortable in its sleep-slackened sprawl. It wasn't until he turned his head away from the window that he realized he wasn't alone in the bed, and for a moment, he froze, unable to recall why Arthur was beside him. Then the nightmare of the week awaiting him came flooding back and Merlin groaned.
"Headache?" Arthur's voice was rough with sleep, his blue eyes hooded.
"No, just thinking about what an idiot I am."
That earned him a smile that was ruined only by a loud yawn. "Yeah, but it could be worse. You could be stupid, too. Go back to sleep. It's still snowing outside, so leaving will be impossible for the time being."
"We better not get snowed in. I have plans for this week."
"Shut up."
Arthur's hand, big and strong, swept through Merlin's hair before he rolled to his side. The blankets rose with the movement, causing Merlin to shiver at the sudden draft. Grumbling, he stumbled out of bed and to the fireplace, where he fumbled his way through turning on the gas fire, turning the dial until the fire was crackling happily. Another shiver and he was climbing back into bed.
"Mm, remind me to thank you later for getting me in bed. I was dead tired last night."
"Thank me now by going back to sleep," was the gruff reply, and Merlin rolled his eyes before complying.
The day had started off all wrong and it was quickly going to shit. After managing to douse Arthur with his – thankfully – cooled tea, Merlin had then tripped while going upstairs to fetch him a clean shirt, which had resulted in a spectacular bump on his forehead and split lip. Morgana had started yelling at Arthur, who had been busy shouting at Merlin for being horrendously clumsy and so it had been Uther who had produced the ice packs and checked the wound, announcing that Merlin would not require stitches. Merlin wasn't sure if he trusted Uther's medical opinion but he wasn't about to say so, so he had accepted it all as graciously as possible, then skived off shopping to mope in the room.
He had been tempted to take another bath, but Arthur had promised bodily harm if he did, stating that for all they knew, Merlin had a concussion and would die in the bathtub, a rather dramatic claim. Arthur had, in fact, threatened to stay home with Merlin that afternoon to take care of him, but Arthur's idea of "care" usually equated out to him nagging Merlin until one of them snapped and said something mean. Not wanting to deal with that on top of everything else, Merlin had simply promised not to fall asleep at all until Arthur returned, and instead had dug out his sketch pad, charcoals and camera.
He had been pleased to discover there was a printer in the house, and it hadn't taken him long to figure out how to connect it to his laptop, so in less than thirty minutes Merlin had printed off one of the pictures he had taken of Arthur the day before and posted the rest to his private photobucket account. Picture in hand, Merlin had absconded to the sheltered and heated sunroom.
Though Merlin preferred his paints and canvas, there was something to be said about the basics. As the morning slowly melted into afternoon, Merlin sat in the plush chair, his head bent over his sketch pad. He was out of practice with shadowing, but after several false starts, he had finally managed to get down the image he had had in his head at the time he had taken the picture.
In the photograph, Arthur had been facing Morgana, who was off-screen, his shoulders back and his chin tilted up. It was hard to recapture the dangerous glint in the blue eyes, but Merlin was pleased with the outcome. The set of Arthur's jaw, the line his eyebrows made when they were pulled together in anger. His mouth was open, having been caught mid-rant, and his lips were full, yet firm. His shirt hugged his arms, well-defined from hours spent at the gym, and his hands were braced on his hips. Feet planted shoulder's-width apart, he looked...like a king leading his knights into battle, and Merlin drew him as such.
It was an on-going joke between he and Arthur, about their names. While Arthur was a perfectly common name, Merlin was not, and Merlin had his cousin Tristan to thank for it. He had been eight at the time, and in love with the myth of King Arthur and his sorcerer-cum-advisor, Merlin. Of course, Merlin's mother could have chosen not to feed into the nonsense by not allowing her son's name to be chosen by a child, but heaven forbid if Hunith Emrys disappointed the little boy.
Just as Merlin's eyes were beginning to hurt from the strain of staring in one place for long, he added the final line to Arthur's profile, smudged the last shadowed area with his thumb, and leaned back to inspect his work. He smiled, pleased with outcome.
"You have quite the talent."
Uther's voice came as a shock for Merlin and he slipped out of the chair with a thud, landing squarely on his arse while the pencils and pad scattered.
"I, um—I mean...Sorry?"
"My apologies. I did not realise you were unaware of my presence." Uther didn't offer Merlin a hand up, but neither was he scowling. Stumbling only once, Merlin managed to pick himself up, then gathered his belongings while Uther continued to speak. "My son was telling me just the other day that your work will be appearing in a local gallery." There was nothing in his tone to indicate his thoughts on the matter, so Merlin wasn't sure how he was supposed to respond.
"Uh, yeah. Sort of a last minute, thing, though. The person originally planned to appear couldn't make the deadline, and since Leon is an old friend of Arthur's he let me have the spot.
Uther frowned then, his face becoming dark and forbidding. "Do you always—"
"Merlin? Father?"
Arthur's voice came as a sweet relief to Merlin, who was certain Uther was about to say something disparaging about his work or inability to secure a showing on his own merits, and he all but threw himself at Arthur the minute he entered the room.
"Arthur!" Wide smile in place, Merlin tried to slip into his role of 'boyfriend' by pressing a quick kiss to Arthur's cheek, but caught his ear instead as Arthur turned his head away. Trying not to look like even more of an idiot, Merlin cleared his throat. "I think I'll just go kip upstairs now that you're back. I've got a bit of headache." At the look of mild panic in Arthur's eyes, he hastened to assure, "Not the 'I-have-a-concussion-and-will-die-in-my-sleep' kind, just the 'I-strained-my-eyes-for-nearly-five-hours' kind." He faked a yawn that morphed into a real one halfway through and tucked his pad under his arm. "Put Morgana on kitchen duty," he added before disappearing.
Arthur pulled a face. "She'll kill us with her cooking. Perhaps we can order in?" Arthur turned to face his father, trying not notice the displeasure written all over the stern features.
"Olaf has invited us out tonight, so no. Go tell your friend that he will need to be ready to leave at five o'clock sharp." Orders issued, Uther stormed out of the room, leaving Arthur alone.
Arthur barely repressed the growl of frustration that was building up inside him. He hated Vivian; hated her insipid face, her taunting voice, her vain, spoiled personality. He didn't normally wish death on people, but Arthur was of the opinion that if Vivian were to accidentally step in front of a bus moving too fast to stop, the world would be a better place. The fact that his father had not told him the venue had not escaped him. Olaf liked to keep people unbalanced, so chances were high that a hired car would be picking them up to take them to an undisclosed location where Olaf and his bitchy princess of a daughter would no doubt think themselves at an advantage. Arthur smiled a slow, malevolent smile and headed upstairs to his room.
Merlin was already lying on the bed, comforter pulled up past his ears and his body curled tight to conserve heat. Despite his ridiculously high metabolism, Merlin never seemed to be warm enough, and Arthur glared at the mop of dark, wavy hair with irritation before he stalked over to the hearth and started the fire. Then he ducked into the bathroom, shutting the door firmly behind him as he pulled out his cell phone. Forty-eight minutes and thirty-seven seconds later, Arthur was quietly knocking on Morgana's door, a half-baked idea already forming.
"That," Morgana said, once he was finished explaining, "is inspired. I cannot believe I didn't think of it first."
"Yes, well, I have twice the motivation you do," Arthur countered.
"Mm. She was a total bitch to poor Merlin last night. I have no doubt whatsoever she'll do the same tonight, regardless."
"Yes, but this ought to knock her off her high horse just a bit, don't you think?"
Morgana fairly cackled with malicious glee. "If it doesn't, I am more than willing to ruin her outfit again."
"I knew I could count on you." Arthur sent her a winning smile. It was rare that they were on the same side, but the fight against evil called for it.
"Are you going to tell Uther?"
"No. You know how he is. And Olaf is a business associate. It would be best to keep him out of it. I'll take the blame for it, and gladly."
"Well, I should be getting ready." She rolled her eyes when Arthur glanced at his watch and then stared at her archly. It was just barely past two o'clock and they weren't due to be picked up until five o'clock. "Perhaps you should go kip with your lover." She drawled out the last word, making it sound disturbingly filthy rather than sarcastic, and Arthur fought the urge to wrap his hands around her throat, because Morgana's paybacks for bruising her in a visible place would no doubt be painful and damaging. He settled instead for stomping out of her room and back into his own.
He spent a few minutes internally debating the stupidity of actually lying down when he could be working on the stack of financials that would be due shortly after his return to England, but gave in to the lulling warmth of the room. Shucking off his shoes, Arthur slid between the sheets and comforter, one arm slipping beneath his head, under his pillow, while the other curled over his stomach. He could feel Merlin shifting beside him, restless from whatever dream he was having, and Arthur placed a calming hand on his shoulder. Just before sleep claimed him, Arthur dug his cell out of his pocket and set the alarm, giving them an hour before they would need to start getting ready.
Arthur felt it was a credit to his father that Uther didn't rush them to the car after the helicopter had landed, instead allowing Merlin the chance to get his bearings. It had been hard, making Merlin climb inside the helicopter when he knew just how shaken up Merlin was going to be upon landing, and knowing that there would be no real reprieve before they had to meet Olaf and his daughter.
"Are you okay?" Arthur enquired, careful to keep his voice low. He didn't like how pale Merlin looked, and they hadn't been in the air for that long.
"Getting there." Merlin bent over the sink, forearms braced against the tile counter. He shivered when Arthur laid a cool, damp cloth over the back of his neck, leaning into the gentle touch. Once he was certain his heart wasn't going to pound its way out of his chest, he stood and shot Arthur a crooked smile. "Let's get this over with, yeah?"
"Sure."
They met back up with Uther and Morgana outside and were led by the chauffer to a car. The drive was short and just as Merlin got his breathing back under control, they were there.
Vivian was, as per her usual, a bitch the moment they arrived. Her lips twisted in a sneer at the sight of Merlin in a suit – complete with a tie that Arthur had done in a half-Windsor – but her expression melted into one of wariness at Morgana's overly enthusiastic greeting. Olaf had appeared a moment later looking furious as he explained the loss of the reservation.
"I have spoken with the maître de, but he claims not to know how this could have happened." Olaf's face was nearly purple with rage, and Arthur exchanged a smug grin with Morgana.
"Are you certain? Perhaps they simply confused the time?" Uther's voice was calm and steady, but Arthur could see his father's relief. It was an unheard of restaurant, and Uther detested nothing more than being out of his element and having to rely on someone else's knowledge.
"Father, isn't Kronenhalle near here?" Arthur peered around him as though genuinely unsure of their location, but he saw the calculating look in his father's eyes and knew that he had been found out.
"What is Kronenhalle?"
Arthur had almost forgotten Merlin was beside him, as quiet as he had been. He shifted to the side so that he could slip an arm around Merlin's shoulders and drew him close. There was a bit of mash up as Merlin lost his balance, and Vivian laughed, high and loud, but they ignored her.
"You'll absolutely love it, if we're in the right neighborhood. It's a wonderful, traditional Swiss restaurant that was once patronised by great artists such as Matisse, Miró—"
"And Picasso," Morgana cut in. "It is a wonderful place, but I'm fairly certain it's on the other side of town, Arthur."
"Don't play the fool Morgana. You know quite well that it is only three blocks from here." Uther glanced down at her shoes meaningfully – she had chosen low heels for the evening, rather than the stilettos she normally favoured – but she let out a tinkling laugh, unconcerned that they had been caught out. "Olaf, Vivian, I believe you will find the restaurant to your liking, if you have not already been there."
Olaf just glared at them. "I'm sure we can handle a plebian meal, can't we, darling?"
"I suppose, daddy." Vivian sounded unimpressed. "So, tell me, Merlin," she simpered, moving to loop her arm through his. "Are you enjoying your stay here in Switzerland?"
Merlin looked stunned and wary, but answered politely nonetheless. "Yes, I think it's quite lovely here."
Tilting her head back, Vivian let out a laugh that Arthur could only define as a bray. "Yes, I'm certain that when one has lived their life as the dregs of society, this must be like a wonderland." She watched his face, her smile cruel when she saw the barb had struck home. When Arthur made to interfere, Olaf cut him off. "Oh, it looks like you took quite a spill. It must be hard being so ridiculously skinny and awkward." She giggled, the sound vile and nauseating. "You must feel so lucky, having a prince like Arthur come along to save you from yourself. I don't suppose anyone else would have spared you a second thought, but Arthur seems to have a soft spot for ugly ducklings."
And really, Arthur had been raised in a household where violence against women simply was not tolerated, but that didn't stop him from pulling his hand across his chest to deliver what could have possibly been a neck-snapping backhand. Uther was quick to restrain him, his glare conveying his own anger toward Vivian's words, but Morgana had been left unchecked.
"If that were the case, Vivian," and Morgana took great care to make certain the girl's name sounded like the filthiest word known to man, "Arthur would have gladly taken up with you before your darling daddy bought you that new nose, the collagen for your lips, a new set of breasts and the repeated tummy tucks. But then Merlin came along, stunning us all with quiet charm and adorably handsome smile and really, after that, not even all of your father's money could turn Arthur's head." And then Morgana punched her.
"Well," Uther said an hour later, "I believe that Pendragon United can count on Olaf pulling out of the proposed merger."
"Don't be silly, Uther." Morgana barely spared him a glance as she stole a bite of Arthur's dinner. "They can't afford not to go ahead. Olaf's company is failing; without us, he doesn't stand a chance. That was the point of tonight. He wanted to catch you off guard and then keep you that way so he could make you forget that you have the upper hand." Morgana popped a shrimp into her mouth and smiled beatifically.
"I wish you would reconsider working for the company, Morgana."
"Pfft. Please, I love my job. Speaking of, we're scheduling another fashion exposé for early fall, however, and I haven't yet found a venue." She glanced up at him through her eyelashes. "I hear there is this wonderful ballroom in Knightsbridge that hasn't been used in ages."
Uther studied her over the edge of his wine glance for several long seconds before nodding. "Shall I arrange for a caterer?" He received a negligent shrug and he took it to mean, 'Yes, but I've already asked for one favour, thus exceeding my limit for the evening,' and made a note to contact his secretary as soon as they returned home. "I believe I will call it an evening after this," Uther said a few minutes later. He flexed the fingers of his left hand and took another sip of his wine to steady himself. "The evening is still young and since the business part of this trip has been concluded, I am giving you three the remainder of the week off."
"Thank you, Father." Arthur stood extending a hand to Merlin, straining to keep up the façade even though the danger seemed to have passed. It was only because he knew Merlin so well that he was able to anticipate him tripping over the legs of his chair, and Arthur saved him the embarrassment of falling flat on his face.
"Well, I for one am ready to call it night. It's going to take almost two hours to get back to that mansion Uther calls a cabin and I think my hand is starting to bruise."
Arthur smirked as he recalled Vivian's shriek of pain and outrage, and even Merlin managed a smile. With a shake of his head, Uther left to close their bill and the trio made their way outside. Merlin stood off to the side with his head tipped back so that he could up at the stars, while Arthur casually leaned against the building, eyes closed. Morgana pulled out a slim case and withdrew a single cigarette, but she instead of lighting it, she rolled it between her fingers.
"I thought you quit that disgusting habit," Uther rumbled, surprising all three of them.
Morgana rolled her eyes. "I did, hence my not smoking the damn thing."
"Language, Morgana. I have called for a car and was assured that it would arrive in only a few minutes."
Merlin shot Uther a grateful smile and had just opened his mouth to say 'thank you' when Arthur cut him off.
"A good choice, Father, as Merlin would have no doubt ruined the interior of the helicopter if forced to fly a second time tonight."
Merlin's blue eyes narrowed and he gave Arthur the two-finger salute when his father's back was turned. Morgana laughed quietly at their antics before tucking away her cigarette and smoothing out her dress. When she flexed her hand with a frown, Uther took it in his own, eyebrows raised at the bruise already darkening over her knuckles.
"To say that that was unbecoming of a lady would be an understatement. I would hope this serves as a lesson."
"Of course," Morgana replied, baring her teeth in a predatory smile. "Next time I'll aim for her silicone implants. Much less damaging for me."
The limo pulled up and as the chauffer opened the door for them Uther let out a wary sigh and dropped her hand. "See that you put ice on it when we get home." Merlin was fairly certain that he heard him grumble, "Your father must be turning in his grave," but he wasn't positive.
On their last full day in Switzerland, Arthur spent twenty minutes attempting to persuade Merlin to try his hand at snowboarding while Uther remained home and Morgana dedicated a full seven hours to shopping and relaxing at the local spa in preparation for a night out. Merlin was horrified and insulted when she pointed out he was more than welcome to go with her, instead.
"Despite what Arthur might say, I'm not actually a girl, you know."
Morgana just looked at him, perfectly arched brows raised high. "Is that a no?"
"Yes, that's a no. Look, I think I'd rather stay in. You two have been dragging me up and down the slopes for the last three days. I think I'm done with the snow. I want to finish working on some sketches while have free time." His voice was firm, but he shot an almost guilty look at Arthur.
Arthur shrugged. "Suit yourself. I won't be able to answer my phone while I'm on the slopes, so if it's an emergency, text me. I have pretty good coverage here, so I'll make sure to check before each pass."
"And I'll have my cell, though it will be off while I'm getting waxed." She sniffed haughtily at the looks on their face.
They left in a flurry of coats and scarves, their loud voices slowly fading away. Merlin felt cheered by the sudden silence and after digging up his sketchpad and pencils, he retired to the sunroom once more, this time with photos of Morgana, Uther and even himself, as well. He had had an idea burning at the back of his mind and he couldn't wait to see how it would look.
He lost himself in his drawing, the seconds and minutes marked by the scritch of his charcoal pencils and the sigh-like sounds of his fingers deliberately smudging harsh lines into something gentler and softer. He had to draw them on separate sheets, but he was confident that he could scan them and work them into one portrait. If he had time, he would do a painting of this, to bring to life the colors and images that danced in his head, barely grasped by the cool grays and black.
It was the sound of Merlin's stomach grumbling that roused him and he let out a soft grunt of pain when he straightened, then nearly leapt out of his skin when he spotted Uther watching him. His mouth worked furiously to find something to say and settled on, "Sleep well?" He almost smacked himself in the forehead. Of all the idiotic things to say.
"Pleasantly enough, all things considered." Uther's eyes never strayed from Merlin's face. "You become almost obscenely involved in your art." Merlin felt like he should apologise, but Uther was already speaking again. "My son is...quite fond of you."
Merlin shrugged. "I think he just likes having a pet-project. I mean—" His eyes widened in horror. "I mean, he liked having a pet project. And then, you know, things just progressed from there."
If Uther had caught the slip-up, he didn't let on. "I admit that I did not find the situation agreeable when he first had you move in. My son is clear-headed in only matters that do not involve his heart, but he has not come out of your...relationship worse for the wear."
"Um." Merlin had nothing to say to that. "Thank you? Would you like lunch? I was just thinking I would make something to eat."
"If it is not too much to ask."
"Oh, no, of course not," Merlin replied, scrambling out of the chair. "I mean, it's the least I can do right? After bringing me on this trip?" Uther's expression remained stoic and Merlin was at a loss as to what else to say. "So, sandwiches, then?"
Merlin received a short nod and took himself off to the kitchen. He was mildly unnerved when Uther followed him and took a seat at the bar, his dark eyes tracking every movement. He seemed unaware that he was still flexing one hand, curling the fingers into a fist while the other hand massaged his arm.
"Do you need something?" Merlin asked as he laid out the makings. "For your arm, I mean."
Uther blinked, looking mildly surprised and shook his head. "No, it is nothing."
He watched as Merlin began slicing the roast from the night before into thin strips. When there was enough for at least four people, Merlin laid them out on a skillet to heat slowly and began mixing another assortment of condiments. He caught Uther's puzzled look and smiled.
"Dressing for the sandwiches. My mother used to make it whenever I went home. Before—before the accident. Not too spicy and not too sweet, so you should like it."
He finished the dressing at the same time that the meat was done and he set about putting together three astonishing looking sandwiches, well aware of Uther's preferences after a week spent cooking for the man. Merlin cut each sandwich in half and divided them equally between the two of them, then grabbed the crisps from the counter behind him and gathered up the plates, leading the way over to the small kitchen table. It was less formal – and therefore less intimidating – than the dining room, which meant that he didn't feel the need to jump up and pull out Uther's chair when he came to join Merlin.
They ate in mostly companionable silence that was only broken once, when Uther complimented Hunith's dressing recipe. When they were through, Merlin rinsed the dishes, loaded them and was about to retreat once more when an ominous thud sounded from behind him. When Merlin turned around, it was to find Uther sprawled across the floor, hands clasped to his chest and for a long second, Merlin could only stare in horror. Then he was moving, dashing to snatch up the cordless phone on the wall to dial Emergency while he dropped down on the ground beside Uther.
The wait for the paramedics seemed endless, drawn out by the fact that neither Morgana nor Arthur answered their phones. He felt like he had two thumbs as he texted them what was happening and by the time the ambulance pulled up, Merlin was in a state of near-panic.
The waiting room was blessedly warm, a relief since Merlin had not had time to find his coat. It was only luck that his cell phone had been on him at the time of Uther's collapse and now he had it clutched in his hands, waiting desperately for Arthur to call him back. It had been an hour since he and Uther had arrived at the hospital and he knew that surgery was already underway. As he paced the length of the room, hands wringing together around the phone, he glanced up at the clock and cursed Arthur for leaving him alone at a time like this. The nurse at the desk smiled sympathetically at him and he sent a weak one back in response before resuming his march of death to and fro.
Just when Merlin was beginning to despair they would never get there, the doors flew open and Arthur raced in, Morgana just a few steps behind him. They swept right past Merlin, demanding to know Uther's status, voices rising steadily. Merlin sagged with relief and dropped down into a chair, face falling into his hands as he listened to the argument currently taking place ten feet away. He didn't notice when the noise stopped until Arthur sat down beside him, hands clasped together so tightly his knuckles were white.
"I—the nurse said that if you hadn't called so quickly, hadn't been there, Father wouldn't have made it."
Merlin glanced up, taking stock of the drawn, pale features and the haunted look in Arthur's eyes. Whatever faults Uther had, his son loved him very much, that was clear. Merlin smiled and reached over to cover Arthur's hands with one of his own, squeezing gently.
"He'll be okay, Arthur. They were very optimistic when they took him in and I stayed with him right up until the surgeon came in."
"Father's doctor—" Arthur flipped over his phone, but Merlin's hand closed over it, his voice calm.
"I've already contacted Dr. Gaius. He should be here any minute as well to oversee anything else. Actually..." Merlin glanced at the clock on the opposite wall, surprised at how much time had passed since his arrival. "He might already be here. I spoke to him on the ride over here."
"Has anyone ever told you you're a godsend, Merlin?" Arthur murmured.
"No, though my mother once confessed she thought I might be the spawn of a demon."
It was crappy joke, but it made Arthur chuckle. When Morgana took the seat on Merlin's other side, they lapsed into silence once more, waiting for someone to come tell them what was going on. After thirty minutes, Merlin excused himself to hunt down the cafeteria and returned with three steaming hot cups of coffee and sugar and creamer stuffed in his pockets. They sipped quietly, eyes flitting between the double doors that lead to the operating room and the clock high on the wall.
It seemed like forever before the lead surgeon and Dr. Gaius finally appeared. Merlin tried to follow the conversation, but he didn't understand a word that was being said. He focused instead on Arthur's face, reading what he needed to know there. Relief loosened the tight lines around his mouth and eyes, the tension in his shoulder's draining away. Morgana all but sank back down onto her chair, her eyes closing as she fought for control. When she opened them again, they were wet and her smile wobbled a little.
"When can Father go home?" Arthur asked.
"We'll need to keep him under observation for a few days, but after that, he can be airlifted back to England. Dr. Gaius said that he will oversee everything from there. There was some damage, so your father will need to rest."
Arthur nodded, but Merlin could see that he wasn't taking much in anymore. Dr. Gaius seemed to understand, though. He spared a fond smile for Arthur and Morgana in turn, then nodded at Merlin.
"You'll see them home, won't you, Merlin?"
"Yes, sir. I contacted Mr. Pendragon's personal assistant and she's cancelled all meetings until further notice. We'll be at the cabin until he's ready to be transported back to England."
"That's a good lad. I have your numbers, so if there is any change, I will call you. I don't expect Uther to wake up this evening though, so it would best if you could get them home to eat and rest." Dr. Gaius' eyes slid over to where Morgana was fingering a cigarette looking quite like she was ready to actually light the damn thing. "I am going to prescribe a light sedative for Ms. La Fey, if you would see that she take it. I know how much she worries."
Merlin nodded and stood, tugging Arthur up by the hand before extending the other to Morgana. It took her a moment to respond, but she climbed unsteadily to her feet, her hand moving up to grasp Merlin's arm. He barely noticed when Dr. Gaius slipped the prescription note in his pocket, his attention was so focused. It took some work to dig his cell phone back out of his pocket as Arthur was still gripping one of Merlin's hands and Morgana was clinging to his arm, but he after a few seconds' struggle, he managed to call for a car and before he knew it, they were all back at the cabin.
The driver waited while Merlin got his friends inside, then he directed the man to take him to the nearest pharmacy. The woman behind the counter told him it would take a while to fill it, her smile apologetic and sincere, so he made a stop at the grocer, mentally planning out a menu for that night. He would have to make another trip the following day, but at least he had food for dinner as they had originally planned to eat out.
By the time Merlin had returned to the cabin and had dinner going, the day's events had finally caught up with him. He swallowed hard as he recalled the hour preceding Uther's collapse and for one full minute, he panicked. Merlin had fed Uther his mother's special dressing and then the man had collapsed. Granted, there was no evidence to prove that the two were at all related, but Merlin was nonetheless plagued with the irrational fear that he had nearly killed Arthur's father. Arthur, who had taken him in, set him up in the nicest flat with an amazing view, let him turn one of the bedrooms into a studio and even sent Hunith extra money each month – though Merlin was fairly certain Arthur hadn't intended for him to know about that last bit – and who always made sure that Merlin remembered to eat when he was holed up in his studio. Arthur, who was...
"Don't be an idiot," Arthur said gruffly, cutting into Merlin's thoughts. He shook his head before Merlin could ask. "No, you weren't talking out loud, but I know well enough by now to know when you're blaming yourself pointlessly. Morgana admitted on the drive over to the hospital that she thought perhaps his medication wasn't working as well as it should. She saw him favoring his left arm and meant to call him on it, but then got caught up with everything else."
"Oh." Merlin swallowed and stared down at the pot of corn chowder. "I'm sorry," he said a moment later.
Arthur just nodded, eyes far away. Merlin could already see that he was shutting down and decided that no one was going to be up for eating anytime soon. Morgana had taken the sedative as soon as Merlin had handed it to her, retiring to her room where they couldn't see her red-rimmed eyes or distraught expression, and Arthur...well, Arthur never had interest in food when he was stressed. Usually he buried himself in his work or worked out at the gym, but he didn't have that choice now. Merlin considered slipping a sedative into Arthur's food or drink, but dismissed the idea in the next breath. Arthur would hate him for that, hate him for clouding his mind at a time like this.
Setting the pot on the back burner and covering it for later, Merlin took Arthur by the hand for the second time that night and led him up the stairs to their room. He shut the door but left the light off, navigating their way to the bed through the dark and then set about stripping them both down to their pants. It only took him one try to get the fire going and then had them tucked into the bed, his arms wrapped around Arthur's shaking shoulders.
There were no tears; Arthur had been raised in an emotionally sterile environment and even though he laughed more now than before Merlin had moved in with him, he still never allowed himself the weakness of crying. But he huddled close, tucking his face into the curve of Merlin's neck, his arms slipping around the slender back. They lay like that for nearly an hour, drifting in and out of a light slumber, until the tension finally melted out away and Arthur pulled back to look at Merlin, his eyes soft with sleep and something else.
"Merlin," Arthur murmured. "Merlin, Merlin, Merlin. Where would I be without out you?" He ended the question with the gentlest of kisses, his lips barely grazing Merlin's.
Merlin blinked, a little surprised by the kiss, but not put off by it. Arthur had always been rather tactile with him and so this simply felt like the natural progression of things. With a sigh, he returned the kiss, falling into it as it slowly deepened. His lips parted when Arthur nudged them with tongue and Merlin pressed closer, his hands sliding up Arthur's back until his fingers could tangle in the golden locks. He didn't fight for dominance, just enjoyed the kiss, letting Arthur choose the direction of it.
Arthur's thigh, firm and strong from so many hours at the gym, slipped between Merlin's and they shifted closer. Merlin gasped when he felt Arthur's hard length pressed against his own, bucking up into it instinctively and eliciting a low groan from them both. It was as if that caused the dam to break, because suddenly Arthur's hands were all over him, pulling him closer, sliding down his back and under his pants to cup his arse. Merlin shivered at the touch, arching into it when Arthur's fingers dipped into the cleft. At the brush of a finger against his entrance, Merlin moaned, his breath hitching in his chest.
"Arthur."
"Merlin, I want—I want..." Arthur groaned again, unable to complete the thought.
"Yes. Yes, anything, Arthur."
Arthur withdrew his hands long enough to tug off the last two layers separating them, and Merlin whimpered as their cocks slid together. It was like nothing he had ever felt before and he pressed closer, wanting to imprint the moment and the sensations into every particle of his being.
"Have you ever...?" Arthur searched Merlin's gaze seeking out the answer to his question.
Merlin huffed. "I told you, Will and I weren't like that. I've never...you know."
Arthur nodded and pulled away, much to Merlin's distress. Before Merlin could pull him pack, he slipped from the bed and padded into the bathroom, reappearing a moment later with a slim tube and foil packet in his hand. Sliding back into the bed, Arthur set the tube on the nightstand and gathered Merlin close to press kisses over his cheekbones and along the soft curve of his jaw up to his ear. When he felt Merlin relax, Arthur stroked one hand down his side, slipping it between their bodies until he could wrap his fingers around Merlin's cock, testing the weight of it.
Merlin's head tipped back and his eyes fluttered closed. "Arthur," he breathed, the word hitching at the end.
Sliding his thumb over the crown, Arthur watched Merlin's face with a hooded gaze, drinking in the myriad of expressions. He leaned in, sealing their lips together as he began to stroke lazily. He used the sounds Merlin was making to determine what felt best, changing the direction of his strokes and the twist of his hand. After a few minutes, Arthur let go to guide Merlin's hand to him, showing Merlin what he liked best. Merlin's eyes opened to mere slits, and Arthur thought he caught a glimpse of gold edging the blown pupils. He smiled into the next kiss, this one initiated by Merlin, and let him explore.
Arthur had once been of the belief – long ago when he was just beginning to discover the softness of the female form – that a mouth was just a mouth. After kissing several girls during the summer between primary school and secondary, he had discovered that no mouth was really the same. By the end of his tenure at Le Rosey, he had tasted every flavour lip gloss known to man and had come to the conclusion that his original conclusion had been correct. He had stood by this claim steadfastly, never really giving much thought to it, but kissing Merlin...
It was as though a whole new world had been opened up to him. There was no gummy concoction lining Merlin's lips, sugary sweet and cloying with its cheap scent. No nervous giggling to distract him from the task at hand, either, for which he was eternally grateful. No, Merlin's lips were full and soft, despite being slightly chapped from exposure to the sun and cold. The sweeping curve of his upper lip was more like an archer's bow, shaped to perfection. Arthur traced it with his tongue, sliding along the edge as memorised the feel of it. Then he nipped gently at the bottom lip, tugging it into his mouth to nibble over the fullness, tasting Merlin's laughter on it; gentle and soothing, the kind that put people at ease almost immediately.
It was as though Merlin's lips spoke a language of their own, and Arthur wanted to learn it, wanted to understand and make it his own so that there could be no miscommunications between them, no unsaid words or missed opportunities. Arthur wanted to own them, make them his just as they marked him as Merlin's.
Moving past Merlin's lips to the inside of his mouth, Arthur swept his tongue over the even line of teeth, pressing down against the sharp points of his canines. He pushed past them to curl his tongue around Merlin's, challenging it, tempting it. When Arthur's retreated, Merlin's followed and the process was repeated with Arthur on the receiving end, Merlin mapping out the new territory.
As Merlin sank deeper into the kiss, Arthur turned his attention back to other things. Shifting his hips closer, he brought their erections together and wrapped Merlin's hand around both lengths, easing him into a slow slide. He managed to reach behind him for the lubricant with only the barest break in the kiss, tipping a small amount onto his fingers before setting it down behind Merlin. Arthur slipped his hand between them again, slicking Merlin's fingers and their cocks before urging him to move once more.
Trailing his slick fingers over Merlin's thigh, Arthur lifted his leg up to rest on his hip, then slowly worked his hand down and back. He cupped Merlin's balls, rolling them gently in his hand before pressing lightly at the sensitive skin just behind.
"Like that, did you?" he muttered when Merlin keened. "Good."
He took his hand away only long enough to add more lubricant and then it returned, slipping back further until he was able to press his finger against the tight ring of muscle. He rubbed over the whole area, slicking it to ease the way, then, with the utmost care, began pressing in the first finger. Merlin tensed, but Arthur distracted him by peppering kisses across his nose and over his eyes. When his finger was moving easily, he added a second.
"Keep—Keep touching us. Yeah, like that. Don't stop," he encouraged.
Merlin nodded, dipping his head down to trace his tongue over Arthur's collarbone while a third finger was introduced. The subtle sting morphed into a burn that had him clenching down on the intrusion and gritting his teeth, but Arthur's voice washed over him, soothing away the ache with its warmth. He was startled by the addition of a fourth finger and pulled back so that he could look at Arthur questioningly.
"Don't want to hurt you," Arthur said, his voice gruff and his eyes bright. Merlin smiled and thanked him with a kiss. "Think you're ready?"
"Yes." Merlin made to roll to his hands and knees, but Arthur stopped him with a hand on his hip.
"No, I want to see your face."
Merlin let out a shaky breath, head nodding jerkily as he lay flat on his back. Arthur settled himself into the vee of Merlin's legs and pressed a final kiss to the tempting lips before reaching for the condom. His hands were steady as he rolled it on and he spread more of the lubricant over his cock before lining himself up.
"Tell me if you want me to stop," he whispered, and then he was pushing in.
Merlin fought against his body's natural reaction to tense, wanting desperately to have this moment, to feel Arthur inside him. At first there was only the barest of pressure and he thought that maybe it wouldn't be so bad, but then Arthur began to press inwards and suddenly it was too much. Arthur was much bigger than four fingers and it hurt. Merlin wrapped his arms around Arthur's broad shoulders, his fingers digging in hard enough to leave bruises as he pressed his face against the strong chest before him.
Arthur stopped once the head was in, arms and legs shaking with need as he waited for Merlin to catch his breath and give him some sign that he was okay. When Merlin's body was no longer gripping his cock so hard it hurt, he pressed in a little more, inching his way into Merlin's heat as slowly as possible. It felt like an hour had passed before he was finally buried to the hilt, his thighs flush with Merlin's arse. Letting out a shaky breath, Arthur shifted Merlin back so he could kiss him again, temper the pain with pleasure. He balanced his weight on one arm and reached between them to grasp Merlin's flagging erection and worked it back into hardness.
"I'm going to move now," Arthur warned, no longer able to remain still. Merlin grunted, all of his focus on what was happening to him, on the new sensations coursing through him.
The first thrust was slow, Arthur withdrawing at a turtle's pace. He pulled back until only the head remained inside, poured a little more lubricant over his length and began the slow slide back. By the fifth repetition Merlin was sighing into Arthur's mouth and by the seventh he was pressing back, meeting each thrust with one of his own. Arthur kept their movements slow, though, aware that the pain was probably only overshadowed by the pleasure, not gone completely.
It was at Merlin's insistence that he began to speed up. The legs wrapped about Arthur's hips dragged him closer just as Merlin's body pulled him in deeper, making Arthur groan with the pleasure of it. He moved almost furiously, still aware enough to not get too rough, but it was a close thing. All the tension from the last week, the worry for his father, the desire he had never quite noticed or perhaps even understood, the want and need that must have been simmering beneath the surface of every interaction between them came boiling up, consuming them both.
Merlin arched up as Arthur slammed into his prostate, a steady chant of ArthurArthurArthur building into a crescendo of moans and soft keening cries interspersed with Arthur's name. He had to lift his head up so he could watch as Merlin slowly came apart around him. It was, Arthur realised, the most beautiful thing he had ever witnessed. The taut line of Merlin's body as his orgasm was torn from him, the full lips parting as Arthur's name was cried out brokenly -- it was that which finally pushed him over the edge, and with one final thrust, Arthur came harder than ever before.
He would have liked nothing better than to collapse back onto the bed and let sleep come, but the mess between them needed to be cleaned first. Separating himself from Merlin's post-coital, languid form, Arthur slipped off to the bathroom for a warm, wet washcloth. Merlin watched through hooded, sleepy eyes as Arthur wiped him down, a slow, satisfied smile creeping over his face. It broadened when Arthur finally slipped into bed beside him and Merlin immediately twined his long limbs about Arthur's chilled form, pressing a kiss to one smooth, broad shoulder.
The drifted off to sleep for a while, waking as the early dawn began to peek through the curtains. Unwilling to face reality quite yet, Arthur rolled them over, tangling them deep under the covers. He breathed in Merlin's comforting scent and let his body relax back into sleep, more at ease despite the chaos of the last twenty-four hours than he could remember having ever been before.
The call came in the early afternoon. Morgana was already in the kitchen, a fresh pot of coffee brewing, and Arthur joined her there, face relaxed as he relayed the doctor's message.
"So he's awake, then," she enquired, her words thick with relief. She reached up to toy with her shower-damp hair, the only outward sign of her distress.
"Yes, and he's asking for us. I told them we'd head over immediately."
Morgana frowned. "Aren't you going to wake Merlin?"
"I don't see the point. He isn't family and he probably wouldn't want to sit in the waiting room while we visited Father." Arthur shook his head at Morgana's dark look. "Besides, I don't particularly want him there. Father is not going to want an outsider seeing him at weakest. If you're ready, we should go. I already called for a car to take us there and mine is still in the lot, so we can bring it back later."
With a resigned huff, Morgana stood and followed Arthur to the front door, pausing to grab her purse and coat. Neither saw Merlin standing in the shadows, brow creased with hurt as he hugged his arms to his body. When the door clicked shut, he headed back up the stairs to the bedroom, sinking into the warm covers to wait for Arthur's return.
It was startling how small Uther Pendragon looked in hospital bed with tubes sticking out of him and the steady beep-beep of the machine monitoring his heart. Arthur had to fight his instinct to turn and run, to leave behind this image of vulnerability in his father. Instead, he stepped into the room and shut the door tightly behind him. Morgana was with the doctor going over the strict new diet – or rather, lifestyle – Uther would have to live by from then on. Sitting in the chair closest to the bed, Arthur took a deep breath, unsure of what to say to his father. Uther spared him the trouble.
"Son. I will say to you what I have already told Morgana; now is the time for settling down. This game you are playing with your friend must come to an end. There is only so much dishonesty the mind will tolerate, only so many lines that may be blurred, before the lies are no longer that. I will not live forever, Arthur, and I would not see you end up as I have. I always desired more for you. That is why I paid for the best education out there, why I had you work summers at the family company during your school years, but allowed you the gap year. Now, however, it is time for this charade to end."
"I don't know what you're talking about, Father," Arthur began, but Uther cut him off, hand slashing through the air.
"Do you think me a fool, Arthur?" Uther glared at his son, anger barely repressed. "You are hiding behind your friendship with—with that boy, using him as a means to maintain your playboy status. You are an adult, Arthur, and it is high time you started acting like. I will not see my company ruined because you are too busy chasing anything in a skirt to see the importance of what you have, to meet your responsibilities face on like a man."
His words were dash of cold water to the face and Arthur sucked in a sharp breath. Everything his father had said was true, but it still stung to have it thrown at him. Then he blinked and saw his father once more, almost shrunken by his ill-health, lying in a hospital bed with a monitor tracking his erratic heart rate. All of sudden, Arthur realised just how close he had come to losing his father and his own anger melted away, leaving behind only sorrow and resignation.
"You are right, Father. I have been irresponsible, and I apologise for my deplorable behavior. I promise you that I will work to rectify it immediately."
Uther frowned at his son's tone, his heavy brows drawing together. "Arthur, what are you planning? Have you even heard a word I have said?"
"Of course. Now, I think I should get Morgana back to the cabin. She barely slept at all last night and I think she's going to reach her limit soon."
Nodding slowly, Uther sank back against the pillows piled high behind him, his eyes shutting almost immediately. Arthur paused at the doorway, his resolve strengthening as he watched his father drift off to sleep. By the time he had Morgana tucked inside their rental, he had already hardened his heart to what he had to do. It was, as his father had said, time to set aside his games and take responsibility for his life.
When the minutes stretched into hours, Merlin gave up on sleep and showered, dressing in a simple pair of tattered and paint-stained jeans alongside his faded Brighton sweatshirt. He had once had hopes of attending the university, but too many things had stood in the way. Now all he had was the sweatshirt he had purchased at the beginning of sixth form, during a visit to the campus.
Merlin contemplated sketching some more, but concern for Arthur's father had him too restless to sit about, so he moved from room to room, tidying as he went. When he ran out of things to clean, he bundled up and called for a car to take him to the grocer where he shopped for dinner. He passed another two hours chopping, dicing, sautéing and simmering, becoming increasingly worried as time ticked by without word from Arthur.
By the time the front door opened, Merlin had worked himself into a ball of anxiety, bottom lip bruised from a five hours of biting at it. He looked up as Arthur strode into the room, but his questions died on his tongue as he took in Arthur's serious, forbidding expression and Morgana's furious one. If they were able to argue, he figured, the news couldn't be that bad. Merlin made the mistake of letting his guard down, so Arthur's next words were a punch to the gut.
"I've arranged for a car to take you to the airport first thing in the morning. Father won't be released for another few days, so Morgana and I will be staying at hotel near the hospital."
Frowning, Merlin shook his head. "I'm more than happy to stay if you want me to."
"I don't really think that would be appropriate." Arthur glanced away for a long moment. When he turned back, something in his face had hardened. "I can allow you a month to pack, but I've decided that it's time to settle down in a real relationship, and I can't do that with a flatmate."
Morgana made a choked noise behind them, but Merlin barely noticed. He let out an incredulous laugh, blue eyes wide and almost beseeching. "I don't think it gets much more real than last night," he pointed out.
"Last night was a fluke, a lapse in judgment and a moment of weakness. It cannot and will not happen again. I'm certain you understand."
The words were a slap in the face and Merlin could only shake his head. "You can't mean that. Not after—"
"I do not require a summary of what occurred last night. I was worried about my father and needed an outlet. You just happened to be there, a willing body. I will be staying in another bedroom tonight. Please be ready to leave by 5:30am."
Arthur turned and stalked from the room, leaving Morgana to stare helplessly at Merlin before chasing after him. Alone and numb from the shock of Arthur's declaration, Merlin sank down onto the nearest stool and wondered just what could have occurred to change Arthur's attitude so drastically in such a short period of time. When no answers came, he took himself off to his room to pack. His mind was too jumbled for sleep and so he passed what remained of the night sitting on the edge of the bed thinking about how suddenly his world had been turned upside down.
Merlin sighed, eyes travelling over his sparsely furnished flat, taking in the peeling wallpaper, the cracks in the ceiling and the signs of mold along the base boards. It was in worse condition than the place he had lived pre-Arthur. He had hoped that after six weeks living on his own again he would have adjusted, and for the most part he had, but the state of his life was still depressing. Stifling a grimace, Merlin grabbed the bag containing his bathroom necessities and after double checking to make certain that his door was locked – he kept the key on a chain around his neck, not trusting his fellow residents – headed down the hall to the communal shower.
He kept his eyes low, careful not to make eye-contact with other residents. It had come to Merlin's attention that he didn't live in the best place even before he signed the lease, but it was all he could afford on the small sum he had had in his savings. Keeping his back to a wall, Merlin stripped and stepped under the lukewarm spray of water, washing as quickly and efficiently as possible before scrambling into clean clothes. After a quick stop to exchange dirty clothes and soap for his wallet and jacket, Merlin headed off to his job.
He had hoped to find something a bit better paying, but there weren't many employers out there who were willing to hire someone who had not attended university, let alone completed high school, for more than minimum wage. The first job Merlin had found was at a second-hand book shop, and through the owner, Merlin had landed a second job busing tables for a diner just a few blocks from the store. But even both of those could not bring enough money to keep Merlin housed, and so he had taken the job at the convenience store just a block from his apartment, aware all the while that nothing good could come from it.
It was still early in the day, just gone four o'clock, and Merlin's shift at the diner started soon, so he took the underground rather than walking and stopped by café for a cheap but hot coffee. He let himself into the diner through the back door, donning the required uniform shirt as he downed his coffee and clocked in. With a look of grim determination, Merlin grabbed the bucket for the dishes and slid through the revolving door.
It was easy to fall into the routine of clearing tables, and Merlin let his feet carry him through the familiar steps. He was paid minimum wage, but the cook was a kindly woman who saved leftovers for him to take home in the evening, so he couldn't be too upset. And if he was at all honest with himself, he had worked far worse jobs pre-Arthur. With a sigh, Merlin unloaded the dirty dishes with a passing nod at the young man manning the sinks.
An hour before Merlin was off work, his cell phone rang. Before leaving behind the one Arthur had given him, Merlin had written down all six phone numbers in his address book. When the screen displayed Leon's name, Merlin felt the first thrill of real happiness in weeks. He was glad when the voicemail message alert sounded and made a mental note to check it on his way home. Humming slightly off-key, Merlin began wiping down tables and putting up chairs as the manager hurried out the last of the customers.
Merlin was certain that it took longer than usual to close, but finally, finally, he was done. Bag of food in hand, Merlin began the long trek home in the dark. It took him two tries to connect with his voicemail, but when he did and Leon's regretful tone flowed out of the earpiece, Merlin was fairly certain that his life could not actually get any worse. His throat tightened as devastation swept through him, Leon's words playing over in his mind.
"Merlin, it's Leon. Look, I feel horrible doing this, but Val got all his pieces done for the show and he wants his spot back. There's nothing I can do, Merlin. His dad owns the gallery and I'll lose it if I don't comply. I can still squeeze in one or two of your paintings though, so call me back when you know which ones you want to include. I'm really sorry, Merlin. I'll try to save you spot in next year's show."
Merlin punched out a hasty text to say that the two Leon already had in his studio were fine. He added a note that should they actually sell, the money should be forwarded directly to his mother. After a quick thank you, Merlin hit send and dug his key out from under his shirt, stifling the urge to slam the door once inside.
He wanted nothing more than to fall into bed after a long night, but when Merlin stepped into his flat and saw the canvases leaning against the far wall, something inside him snapped. With a low cry, Merlin grabbed the closest one in his hands and brought it down over his knee, snapping the wood frame in half. He could feel the splinters digging into his flesh, but as he continued to destroy half-finished paintings of his vision of Camelot, a cold numbness slowly filled him. Even when he was done, Merlin felt nothing, not the hurt from Arthur's abrupt dismissal of him to the overwhelming sadness of losing this last good thing that had carried him through everything else. Merlin didn't bother moving when he felt his eyelids grow heavy, but let himself drift off into a restless sleep.
When he woke, it was to the sharp ringing of his alarm and it was all Merlin could do to drag himself up from the hard floor. Stumbling across the room to where his coffee pot sat ready, Merlin punched the start button and blearily waited for the pot to fill. It would take no less than two cups before he would be read to face the communal bath and he was already running late. Breakfast would have to wait until he reached the bookshop where there would hopefully be a pastry set aside for him.
It was with heavy feet that Merlin gathered his towel and showering things, but despite the time crunch, he was careful to triple check his locks before heading down the hall. The bathroom was blessedly empty, so he allowed himself the luxury of a ten-minute shower rather than the usual seven he allotted. Then he was tripping back to his room to dress, fill another cup of coffee and dash off to his day job.
Merlin winced when he finally took in the damage he had created the night before. He spared a few minutes to scoop up the worst of it, dumping it into the can by his door. He grabbed his sketchbook, pencils and paints, tossing them in as well.
"It's not as though I've the time for it anyway," Merlin said to the empty room. With a heavy sigh, he picked up his bag and left once more, securing his tiny apartment behind him.
Merlin fought back a yawn as he let himself in through the back door of the convenience store. It had been busy at the bookshop, surprisingly so for the middle of a weekday, but things had slowed down just before his shift ended. Merlin had used the time to simply sit and sort through the latest buy-backs they would be putting on the shelves, some of the titles so ludicrous he couldn't help but snort. He set aside a book that made him think of Morgana, and another two that he thought Lancelot and Gwen would like. They would be home from the states in another three months and he couldn't wait to see them. It was wrong, he knew, to hope for it, but Gwen would almost certainly offer him a room at her and Lancelot's new home, and Merlin wasn't above saying yes, if only until he could save up enough to live somewhere better.
There was a brief tussle with a broom that seemed intent on denting Merlin's head, but after carefully extracting himself from near-catastrophe, he donned his work shirt, grabbed his drawer for the cash register, and headed into the main part of the store. He paused on his way to the counter to straighten a few shelves and pick up a half-empty cup of cold coffee, tossing it in the bin at the front of the store. Brian nodded to him as Merlin stepped into the small space.
"You sure you don't mind finishing my shift, mate?"
Merlin gave a negligent shrug, fighting back the wave anger and hurt when he thought about where he should have been instead. "Nah. My other plans fell through and I can always use the money."
"Well, just let me know when I can repay the favour. I owe you one." Brian smiled as he gathered his things and slipped out through the back, his drawer tucked under his arm.
With a sigh, Merlin counted out his drawer and slammed it shut, relishing in the almost pained ding of the old machine. Then he resigned himself to a night of annoying customers and the knowledge that what could have been the break he had been waiting for was taking place in a much nicer part of London.
Uther stepped into the gallery, heavy eyebrows drawn tight and low as he scanned the sea of faces for a familiar one. There were several, as he had known there were bound to be, but none were the one he had been expecting. With the sigh of a man unused to not having he what he wanted immediately set before him, Uther crossed to where Leon was talking to a small group. A sharp inclination of his head had the younger man making his excuses and following him to a quiet corner.
"I was told that Merlin Emrys would be here tonight."
Leon went pale, eyes widening at the words. "Um, he—er, the thing is, erm..." Closing his eyes for a moment, Leon took a deep breath and gathered his thoughts. "The building my gallery is in is owned by Clarion. His son, Val, had originally asked to have his pieces shown, but backed out a few months ago claiming he would not be able to meet the deadline. I offered the spot to Merlin, but when Val demanded it back, I had toI had to give it to him. I explained it to Merlin. I would have lost the gallery otherwise."
"So you allowed your loyalty to be bought by some untalented buffoon?"
Leon choked on a laugh that was at least half hysterical. "I have another show set for this summer. I've already promised Merlin a spot."
"I came here expressly to see his work."
"Oh! I do have three of the paintings he did. The third—well, I think he forgot it even existed, and it's quite beautiful, really. They're over there." He pointed towards the farthest wall, blanching a bit more at the fierce scowl Uther shot him.
"How much for all three?"
"All—but you haven't even seen them!"
"Are you questioning me?"
"No, of course not. For all three it will be £1000." Leon knew Uther Pendragon was good for the money, so he didn't feel bad about taking on the extra £150.
Uther pulled out his checkbook and pen, filling it out in his exaggerated scrawl. He shoved the slip of paper into Leon's hand. "I expect the pieces to be delivered to the address listed on my check. That should more than cover the cost of crating and transportation."
Leon's eyes boggled at the amount. "Um, I think you've made a mist—" The sentence died as he caught sight of Uther's cold expression. "When shall I drop them off?"
"Tomorrow. And I wish for the purchase to remain anonymous until I have spoken with—"
When Uther's phone rang, he had half a mind to ignore the call, but one glance at the tiny screen had him snapping it open, one hand up to forestall Leon's reply. "What is it?"
"I can't get in touch with Arthur! He's shut off his phone completely and Gwen is still in America with Lance!"
"Morgana, what in damnation are you talking about?"
"It's Merlin. He's been attacked."
Uther's world narrowed down to those five words and for one impossibly long minute, everything came to a standstill. Then he began barking out orders.
"Call Gaius and tell him everything you know. If Merlin is at one of those godforsaken clinics, tell Gaius I want him transferred immediately. I will see to my son."
Arthur lifted a hand when he caught sight of the waiter, desperate for another bottle of their Château Ducru-Beaucaillou 2005. Not once during the past three months he had been dating Sophia – or even when he had dated her a year and half ago -- had he loathed her more than at that moment, her high voice making the faint buzz of an oncoming migraine gradually worsen. If they had not been in public, he might have said something to that effect, but at the moment, it was not worth the trouble that would no doubt ensue. When his phone began to vibrate in his pocket, Arthur only barely managed to bite back a sigh of relief. He was immensely disappointed, therefore, when he saw an unknown number flashing on the screen.
He rejected the call twice more, not wanting to bother with an unidentified caller, then did the same when Morgana rung through, certain she simply wanted to remind him of all the reasons he should not go ahead with his plan to propose to Sophia. The blonde girl might have the most annoying thing since MTV stopped playing music videos and started airing reality shows, but his father wanted him to settle down and she was far more tolerable than, say, Vivian. On Morgana's third call, Arthur snarled and shut off his phone.
"Problems, darling?"
"Only Morgana."
"You know she's just trying to come between us. She doesn't understand our love."
Arthur grimaced when she reached out to pet his hand. The arrival of their waiter and the main course of the evening saved him, and Arthur dug in with perhaps a bit more relish that was polite. Turning the conversation to something far more neutral, Arthur dropped one hand to his thigh, feeling the sharp edges of the jewelry box in his pocket.
They were just looking over the dessert menu when Arthur's father arrived, looking far more furious than Arthur had ever seen. When Sophia made to complain about the interruption, Uther shot her a thunderous look, which he then turned onhis son.
"Is there a reason you turned off your phone?"
"Yes. I have grown rather weary Morgana's haranguing."
The thin lips pressed into a tight line for several seconds before Uther bit out, "Had you answered your phone, you would have known, then, that the original call was from the emergency clinic in Hackney, and that Morgana was out of her mind because Merlin was attacked at his job."
Arthur went still, face blank with shock. "What do you mean 'attacked'?"
"Darling, is this that low-class friend you were talking about? You're not really going to let him ruin our night, are you?"
"You," Arthur snarled, eyes wild, "will Shut. Up." He turned back to his father even as he stood and pulled out his wallet. He dropped enough bills on the table to cover the meal. "What happened?"
"He was working at Mercia Qwik Stop—" Uther got no further than that before his son was shoving him aside, desperate to get to his car.
"That idiot. He knows how dangerous it is working at that place. What the hell was he thinking?"
"Perhaps that he needed the money if he was going find somewhere to live. Not everyone is born into wealth."
"His best friend died there. How could he go back? And what do you mean? Merlin's staying with Gwen and Lance."
"That is not what Morgana told me." Uther ushered his son into the waiting car, breaking the conversation long enough to tell the driver where to go. "He has been living in squalor in Hackney because he does not have the education required to seek? high-paying employment and your other friends are still living abroad. You are the biggest fool I have ever met. What on earth possessed you to throw him out of your flat?"
Arthur's face was so bleak, Uther almost felt bad for the cruelty of his words. Almost.
"I—I thought that was what you wanted. You told me to end the farce."
"I expected you to stop pretending that the two of you were involved and either admit that you had feelings for the boy or find a gentle way of separating. I did not expect you to evict him in one day and take up with that—that tramp the next. Your mother—"
Uther bit his tongue on the rest of the words, turning away from the pain-filled expression on his son's face. It was too much to bring up a woman Arthur had never even known, to besmirch her memory because of something like this.
"I have already spoken with Gaius and he has assured me that Merlin has been released from the clinic he was taken to and transferred to Royal National Orthopaedic Hospital. I have already spoken to Dr. Wisenberg, one of the leading specialists in orthopaedic surgery and I have been assured that Merlin will be receiving only the best care available."
"Wait, what?" Arthur paused as the car pulled up to the curb outside the hospital, suddenly thankful that the restaurant had been nearby. "What does that mean?" he demanded as they passed through the sliding doors, not stopping until they were standing before Morgana.
Arthur barely had a chance to take a breath before Morgana was standing, her hand flying with deadly speed and connecting sharply with Arthur's cheek. When Uther opened his mouth to chastise her, Arthur only shook his hand, stomach in knots.
"No," he said hoarsely. "I deserved that."
"Yes, yes you did." And then her fury was gone and Morgana was in Arthur's arms, her tears soaking into his shirt. "Oh god, Arthur, he could die. They—the doctors, they won't tell me much, but what they have said—it sound—it sounds like they aren't very hopeful."
"The prognosis on Merlin's overall recovery cannot be determined until after he is out of surgery, though none of his injuries were life-threatening." Dr. Gaius had appeared behind them, his face grim as he waved them towards the chairs. "I oversaw his intake and the first part of his surgery. It will be quite some time before they are done, and Dr. Wisenberg—"
"The orthopaedic surgeon?" Arthur leaned forward, not removing his arm from where it curved around at Morgana's shoulders. "What does that mean? Why have they brought in a specialized surgeon?"
"The damage done to one of Merlin's hands by his attackers is of great concern. The bones of his left hand and fingers are fragile and without specialized care, it is quite likely that he may never regain use of them. Dr. Wisenberg, as I was saying, will not be available to speak to you until after he has completed the surgery. While you may remain here while you wait, I would encourage you instead to return home. Get some sleep."
Arthur shook his head, jaw set in a determined line and face stricken as the severity of the situation seemed to sink in. "No. I won't leave, not until I have seen that he's all right."
Uther sighed. "Arthur, he may not be all right, but your being here will not change the outcome."
"I won't leave him here alone. I—I've already gone and fucked this up enough, I won't just abandon him a second time. Oh god," he gasped out. "This is all my fault. I should have—If I hadn't..."
Morgana reached out and squeezed his hand. "You can't know that. Merlin could have asked me for a place to stay. He was just as determined to cut his ties. What has happened to him, it's terrible, and it's frightening, but that could have happened to anyone."
"And it did," Arthur snapped. "It happened to his best mate, at the same fucking store. I can't believe he took a job there! Again!"
"What? When?"
Arthur stared at Morgana incredulously. "Just before I moved him in with me. That was the reason I did it in the first place. He was a wreck after Will was shot."
"Will had gone by because he was worried about Merlin walking home late at night. There had been a string of muggings in the area and Will was positive that Merlin was one step away from being the next victim. While they were chatting, a man entered the store and pulled a gun on Merlin. Demanded he give him all the money in the cash register. When Merlin moved too slowly, the man started shooting. Will leapt in front of Merlin, took a single bullet to the chest and the man fled. They caught him a few days later and he's in jail, but that's not the point."
"Oh." Morgana fell silent, teeth worrying her bottom lip as she digested that latest bit of news. She had been abroad at the time that Merlin had become a fixture in Arthur's household and she had never thought to question it. Now she understood the fierce protectiveness Arthur had had for Merlin before everything had gone to shit.
A young doctor, barely a year into his residency, had followed Gaius to the waiting room and chose that moment to clear his throat, drawing their attention to him. He tutted over the notes on his clipboard, ignoring the quelling look Gaius was sending his way.
"I've been over the patient's notes and really, he's quite lucky his injuries were so minor. The crushed hand is probably the worst of them, and that's hardly anything to concern him for too long. Perhaps next time he will not be so quick to play the hero." He seemed pleased with his ability to communicate clearly with the group in the room, but his smile morphed into shock at the reaction he received.
"Bastard!"
Arthur lunged up, reaching for the startled doctor, but was stopped by Morgana's sharp cry and his father's hand on his arm. Still seething, Arthur stared the other man down.
"If I find out you've said that to Merlin, I swear to god, no hospital in all of England will offer you a job."
"I am only doing my job!"
"Don't, Dr.—" Arthur glanced at the tag pinned to the white coat. "Dr. Adams." He turned his back on the resident to face Dr. Gaius once more. "I'm not leaving the hospital until I've been able to see Merlin. I'm listed as his next-of-kin and we both know his mother is in no position to come up here."
Gaius nodded. "Uther has arranged for Merlin to have a private room once he is moved out of ICU. I shall see that an extra bed is made up for you. For now, though, go home. Shower, change and pack an overnight bag."
"They can't do that," Dr. Adams insisted, still indignant over Arthur's rough treatment.
"Considering the Pendragons are responsible the latest wing built onto this hospital and that Uther Pendragon sits on the board, I believe you will find that yes, indeed they can." Gaius' firm tone brooked no further discussion and he ushered the resident back through the double doors that led to the operating rooms.
"Son?" Uther waited for Arthur to sit back down. "I'm going to take Morgana home. You should do as Gaius suggested."
"I'm not leaving until he's out of surgery. I can't—I don't think I could handle it if something happened and I wasn't here."
Uther nodded understandingly. After Arthur's birth, as the doctors had fought for hours to stop all the internal bleeding Ygraine had suffered from the complicated delivery, Uther had refused to leave as well. No force had been strong enough to pull him from his wife's side until finally the time of death had been called and Gaius, then a young attending and also one of Uther's closest friends, had led him down the hall to where his infant son was wailing, alone in the nursery with only a soft bear at the foot of his bed for company. It had been a terrible time in Uther's life, but he had never regretted his decision to stay with her.
"I'm going to request a sedative for Morgana and then I will have some of your things gathered from your flat and brought here. before everything is packed away. I will arrange for your thinks to be put into storage until you have time to find a new apartment. Is there anything in particular you would like?"
"No. Anything will do."
Gathering Morgana close, Uther ushered her from the room. The silence that followed their departure was stifling and all of the guilt, all the recriminations, came crushing down upon Arthur. No matter how he looked at it, no matter all the other variables that had played a part in Merlin's attack, none of them would have even existed if not for Arthur's rash, heartless decision.
While Uther had always been distant, almost cold, he had never been cruel. And while he was not an active supporter of the gay community, he had also never discriminated against it. He had told Arthur at a young age that what others got up to behind closed doors was of no consequence to him and that as long as their activities were not illegal and that all participants were of age and consented, then who was he to say they could and could not do? Arthur knew – knew – beyond the shadow of a doubt that his father would have supported him if he had announced his attraction to Merlin that day at the hospital. But Arthur had been too scared by the suddenness of it and had, instead, pushed Merlin so far away it nearly killed him.
Just as his thoughts began to spiral out of control, a nurse appeared before him. The tag on her burgundy scrub shirt said her name was Freya and her eyes were kind.
"Mr. Pendragon?"
"Yes?" He blinked up at her. He glanced at his watch and was surprised to realize that more than three hours had passed since his arrival at the hospital and that his bag of belongings was sitting at his feet.
"We've prepared a room for you. Dr. Wisenberg has just finished the surgery and from the sound of things, he's very positive. He will have to repeat the procedure a few more times of the next several months, but nothing was shattered, so the mends should be straightforward."
Arthur nodded, relief punching through him. If it was true that the worst of the damage was in the left hand, then Merlin would still be able to sketch anyway, but it was good to hear. Arthur let his eyes drift closed as exhaustion settled around him like a heavy cloak. He startled awake when a hand shook him gently and he found himself staring into warm brown eyes.
"Yes?"
"I think we should get you to the room. Merlin is ICU and he'll have to stay there until the doctors are certain there are no chances of infection, and then they'll move him into the private room."
"When can I see him?"
"Not until tomorrow afternoon. Would you like me to call a cab so you can rest at home?"
"No, no, I'll stay here. If that's okay."
Freya smiled. "Not a problem, Mr. Pendragon."
She pulled him to his feet and after seeing him to the room, bid him a good night. Without even bothering to take off his shoes, Arthur collapsed onto the bed closest to the door, his bag thudding to the ground. Sleep came swiftly.
The Pendragon heir was sitting beside Merlin's bed in a chair he had absconded with from another room when Freya peeked. It was against procedure, but the doctors had finally cleared Merlin for transfer to the private room, so Freya didn't think he would get in too much trouble. His long legs were stretched out in front of him, crossed at the ankles, and the book he had been reading earlier lay open on his chest, forgotten as he dozed lightly. She smiled, checked Merlin's vitals and then tucked a spare blanket around Arthur Pendragon's broad shoulders. After making a mental note to let the other nurses on shift know not chase the young man off, Freya left to finish her rounds.
Arthur woke at the sound of the door shutting and shifted in his seat to look at Merlin. The heavy bandage that covered his forehead was clean and his face, livid with bruises, still looked deathly pale. But he was alive, and that counted for everything where Arthur was concerned. With a yawn, he sat up and the hardback that had been precariously perched on his chest slid to the floor with a thump.
The sound was startlingly loud, causing Arthur to jump slightly and swear. When he glanced up at the bed, he froze with shock.
"You're awake."
Merlin did not reply, but blinked blearily up at Arthur. He frowned as he began to take notice of his surroundings and one slim, shaking hand came up to tug at the oxygen tube hooked behind his ears. Arthur stopped him with a warm, reassuring hand before he could displace it.
"What happened," Merlin croaked. His voice sounded terrible and Arthur's gaze flitted down to the ring of bruising responsible.
"You were—" His own voice cracked, all the emotions he had been repressing since the first night rushing back up. "You were attacked. Three to one, though you managed to get one of them pretty good. Cops nailed him at clinic not far from the store and they've got all three in jail. Merlin--"
It was too much for Arthur and he dropped his face into the hand not currently grasping Merlin's in a death grip. He took a deep, shuddering breath and looked back up. His expression was so bleak, so absolutely shattered, it rocked Merlin to the core.
"I was—I was worse than an idiot. God, I almost lost you. There is nothing I can say in my defense, nothing I can do to undo it."
"It wasn't your—"
"Don't." Arthur had meant to sound firm, forceful, but it came out as a plea instead. "Don't make excuses for me."
Merlin looked ready to say something more and made to sit up, but as he shifted in the bed, his face twisted with pain. His bruised ribs protested the sudden movement and he managed to jostle his hand, sending a wave nausea-inducing pain lancing up his whole arm. Skin turned a sickly ashen color and Arthur leapt up from his seat to call for a nurse.
Two nurses appeared and they waved Arthur aside as they began checking vitals and asking Merlin a barrage of questions. When the second nurse finally left, Freya motioned for Arthur to come closer. She was busily adjusting the drip attached to Merlin's IV and even as Arthur watched, Merlin's color began to change back to normal and his face relaxed.
"He was due for another dose. He'll probably fall back to sleep soon, so keep that in mind. Nurse Esther, the woman who just left, will be to check on him in an hour and they'll probably go ahead and move him to the private room then."
"He's okay, though?"
Freya sighed sadly. "He will be, with time."
Arthur nodded and waited for her to leave before be dragged his chair around to the opposite side of the bed, where Merlin's unbroken hand lay splayed across the bed. Taking it in his hand, Arthur curved his free arm on top of the blanket and laid his head down. He could see a sliver of blue beneath Merlin's drooping lids, but it was fairly obvious that Merlin was out of it. It was unsettling for Arthur to see him as he was, but there was nothing to be done. With a sigh, Arthur let his body go lax and turned himself over to sleep.
Arthur woke to fingers brushing over his cheek, following the line of jaw and tracing over his lips. He opened his eyes slowly so as not to chase off the near phantom-like touches and he blinked up sleepily at Merlin, lips curving in a soft smile.
"You're awake," Merlin whispered, voice still rough.
"So're you. Merlin—"
"Later. We can talk about it later."
Arthur nodded and sat up, regretful as the action meant that Merlin's fingers were no longer touching him. "They said they want to keep you in here for another day, but after that I'll be taking you home."
"Home?"
Arthur looked sheepish. "Well, back to my father's mansion. My lease ran out on the flat and I decided not to renew it. I had intended to look into purchasing something, but, well." He shrugged. "Father has said that we're both welcome to stay there until I've found a place. A week at best, a month at most."
"You want me to come back. With you?"
Arthur closed his eyes to hide the anguish in them, because dear god had he earned the mistrust in Merlin's voice, no matter how badly he regretted it. "I can stay with Morgana," he said at last, looking at Merlin only when he was certain his expression would not betray him. "Or you can stay with her. I just—you can't—that place you were living, it's horrible. I had Leon and Gawain go by to collect your things and they were stunned. Merlin—"
Merlin shook his head, wincing as he did so. "No, I said we'd talk later. What I meant was, are you doing this out of guilt?"
"Yes," Arthur replied promptly. "Because if I hadn't been such an arse, if I had given any real thought to what I wanted and not to what I thought my father wanted, none of this would have happened. I never would have kicked you out. I didn't want that, Merlin. Believe me when I say that. But I thought my father was dying."
Merlin swallowed, his eyes suspiciously wet though no tears fell. "So this isn't pity."
The question earned him a choked laugh. "Please, if anyone should be pitied, it's me. My father and Morgana will never let me live this down and they'll both probably spend weeks trying to convince you that you can do better than a prat like me, but—" 'But I want you to pick me anyway, because I know, now, that you're the only person I've ever loved like this and I won't let you down. Never again.'
"This doesn't—this doesn't change anything. It won't all be miraculously fixed just because I've agreed to live with you and your father."
"I know." Arthur sighed and stared down at their tangled fingers, wondering when that had happened. "They say your hand should heal completely. Father managed to get you the top surgeon in the field and it wasn't the hand you use to paint or sketch."
Merlin's eyes travelled over to his bandaged hand, a frown drawing his brows together. "Nurse Freya gave me something different for the pain. I can still feel it though. You'll have to thank your father for me."
"You can thank him yourself when he comes by in the morning."
Merlin let out a nervous laugh. "Your father still scares me."
"My father has grown quite fond of you over the last few days. Really, probably ever since the Switzerland trip. It's almost annoying." At Merlin's horrified expression, Arthur laughed. "Idiot, not like that. Besides, he still thinks you're a fool for being friends with me."
The tension that had eased only minutes before returned and Arthur cleared his throat in the awkward silence that ensued.
"I arranged to stay here for the night. They've set up an extra bed in the room they'll be moving you too soon, but I can leave if you'd rather."
"No, I—I'd prefer it if you stayed."
Arthur understood all too well. Merlin had spent one horrific night alone in the hospital waiting while the surgeons tried to save his best friend. Arthur, Lance and Gwen had been out celebrating graduation and Merlin had not wanted to take them away from their fun, something for which he probably would have been thoroughly chastised for had he not just watched Will die. No, leaving him alone wasn't really an option, and Arthur had only offered because he had known Merlin would say no.
"Good."
No sooner were the words out than two male orderlies bustled in. Arthur released his hold on Merlin's hand and stepped aside so they could ready him for the room transfer. He watched avidly as the machines were disconnected and the IV reorganized so that it wouldn't trip them up. Another nurse came in, this one older and rather motherly, and she directed the two men to the new room, Arthur trailing after them slowly. He was a non-entity as far as they were concerned as they settled Merlin in and checked his meds once more, then they were gone.
There was a remote on the bedside table and Arthur picked it up as he sank down into the chair close to Merlin. He smirked as the movie listing page appeared. "Looks like you have on-demand."
Merlin attempted to roll his eyes, but the latest dose of medication was already kicking in. "Jus' don' pu' on foo'ball," he slurred, lids drooping.
Arthur's hand found its way to Merlin's free one, tucking the slim digits beneath his own. He didn't look over, but offered a gentle squeeze. When he did finally glance in Merlin's direction, a soft, fond smile expression stole over his face. It was enough, seeing Merlin relaxed in sleep once more, his hand still safely caught in Arthur's. Unwilling to relinquish his hold, Arthur settled down in the chair for a long night, content for the first time since everything had gone so terribly wrong.
In the two and a half weeks since Merlin had been discharged and swept away to the Pendragon mansion, he had not spoken more than a handful of words to Arthur, all of them done only out of necessity. The second surgery had been scheduled to happen in a month and Gwen and Lance were due home just before the big day, which would have pleased Arthur if he had not been so twisted up over Merlin's silence towards him. Morgana had told him to give Merlin time and Uther had simply looked unconcerned. Neither reaction had been at all what Arthur had been looking for, and he felt helpless.
It was as he was reading over the latest financials that Merlin sought him out. The bruises, now faded to a yellowish-green that was somehow worse than the dark blue, against Merlin's pale skin taunted Arthur as Merlin slipped into the study and it was all Arthur could do not to reach out and brush his hand over one of the battered cheeks. He gripped his glass of brandy instead, eyes taking stock of Merlin's current state.
"Is something wrong?" Arthur asked after a long moment.
Merlin shook his head. "I just—I've had time to think about what happened, about being here. With you. I thought maybe it was time we talked."
The knot that had been lodged in Arthur's gut since Merlin had disappeared flared and Arthur had to shift his grip to the desk lest he shatter the glass in his hand. The pain of it was familiar and it helped to ground him as he waited for Merlin to continue.
"I—look, I won't lie. I'm not happy about the way things turned out, or about the way you dealt with the situation. You were an utter bastard."
Arthur nodded in agreement, heart lodged in his throat. They weren't even together and yet already Merlin was delivering a break-up speech. "I know," he said at last, the words barely more than a whisper.
Merlin frowned, confused by the stark quality of Arthur's voice, but he pressed on ruthlessly. "What happened on that trip, I trusted you, believed what was happening was different, that it was real, and you threw that in my face. I wanted—" He shook his head, changing tactics mid-thought. "I don't want that to happen again. I don't want to have everything blow up in my face and wind up in the same place was I before. I hated that."
It was all Arthur could do not to reach out and yank Merlin into his arms, to tuck Merlin against his side and swear to never betray him again, but Arthur knew that words alone would not be enough to convince Merlin of his sincerity. The conversation was just the first of many steps that would need to be taken for the trust to be rebuilt and for Merlin's faith in Arthur to be restored.
"But the truth is," Merlin continued, eyes softening. "I missed you. Even when I hated you, I missed you more. And while I can't say that I believe you won't be an arse again, I do believe that this can work and that it's worth the effort. If—if you want it."
And oh god did Arthur want it. He wanted it more than anything else and he said as much with his eyes, mouth and hands, standing so he could draw Merlin to him, sliding his arms around Merlin's shoulders.
"I thought—I thought I'd gone and fucked it all up. That you were coming in here to tell me to fuck off and you'd like to stay with Morgana or Lance and Gwen."
"Idiot." Merlin let out a shaky laugh, his breath gusting over Arthur's neck. "Like I could leave you. However..." He pulled back enough to look Arthur in the eyes, his face grim. "You really need to find a place of your own. This place scares the shit out of me. I've gotten lost twice trying to find the kitchen."
"That's because you have no sense of direction. And I did. Find a place, I mean. I was going to announce it at dinner since I didn't think you were talking to me."
"And now that you know I am?" Merlin enquired archly.
"It's over in Kingsbridge, but it's a house, not a flat. Four bedrooms, three baths, a huge kitchen and an unattached guest house that could be transformed into an art studio."
Merlin looked positively stunned by the revelation. "Seriously?"
"Yes. I haven't put a bid on it yet, because I wanted you to see it first, but it could be ours by the end of the month."
It was the 'ours' that made Merlin's stomach flip. "You're serious about this?"
Merlin meant more than just the idea of living together, and Arthur knew it. Buying a house was one thing, but buying one with the intention that they would be sharing it, that it become Merlin's home...it was almost too much to take in and Merlin's legs threatened to give out. It was a relief when Arthur sat back down in his leather chair, pulling Merlin into his lap.
"More serious than you can imagine."
"We should tell your father. Now, rather than when there's food to choke on."
Arthur pulled back, his hands coming up to brush Merlin's hair away from his face and trace over the livid bruises. "He knew before we did, I think. He won't be surprised." Arthur paused, his gaze catching and holding Merlin's. "Or upset."
"Good. Best get it over with, though, yeah?"
"Yeah." Arthur nodded in agreement, leaning forward to brush his lips over Merlin's before urging him up. Taking Merlin's undamaged hand in his own, Arthur strode from his study with purpose, leading the way through the multitude of hallways. When he did not find Uther in the library, his study or even his bedroom, Arthur stopped.
"What's wrong?"
"I'm not sure where my father is."
"Oh, I saw him going into a room at the other side of the, erm, house when I was on my way to your study. The room that overlooks the lemon tree."
Arthur frowned hard. "Are you certain?" His frown deepened as Arthur began walking in that direction, his grip on Merlin's hand tightening. "That was my mother's sitting room. I didn't think he'd been in there since she died."
"Oh. Sorry."
"Nothing to apologise for, Merlin. I just wonder what he's doing in there."
Arthur's question was answered soon enough. After a sharp rap on the door, Uther called them in and Arthur found his breath stolen away. There, over the mantle where his father was standing, was a portrait of his mother. She had died before Arthur could form memories of her, their introduction brief and tragic. Arthur had only seen a few photographs of her, faded pictures worn by time and grief, most of which Uther had packed away just before Arthur entered secondary school. If all the photos have been packed away, how did Merlin get one to paint?
This was different though. It was as though the artist had captured her living spirit in the painting. Her blue eyes danced merrily, her blonde, upswept hair gleamed in the fading sunlight and mirth curved her lips. It was not from any picture he had seen before, nor were her clothes those of a modern woman. Instead, it was though she had been transported to another era, where kings and queens and chivalry and knighthood reigned. She was breathtakingly beautiful and Arthur felt the sharp pang of loss as she stared back at him.
Merlin froze just inside the door, unsure of what to do as he watched Arthur cross the room to stand beside his father. His feet seemed glued to the floor when all he wanted to do was run, and when he heard Arthur ask his father where the painting had come from, the reply was drowned out by the roar of his blood in his ears.
"—lin. I found it amongst a stack of paintings he was intending to put in storage. I was at first furious that he would take such a liberty, but the longer I looked at it – at your mother – I found that my anger was abating. I have never seen such a perfect likeness of her, not even in the photographs that were taken."
"Merlin?" Arthur twisted around to see Merlin's pale face and eyes wide with fear and something twisted low in his gut. Without hesitation, Arthur moved to where Merlin was standing and pulled him close once more, pressing his face into the slender curve of Merlin's neck. "She's beautiful. Thank you."
"I—you're not angry?"
"How could I be?"
Uther cleared his throat and Arthur stepped back, though he did not release Merlin completely. Hands clasped, they turned to face Uther and the portrait of Ygraine.
"I must admit, when I heard about the gallery showing, I was expecting more of the same. I had seen the sketch you were doing of Arthur and Morgana and I was intrigued."
Merlin laughed, the sound nervous and unsteady. "There was a whole series of paintings, but only three were shown. I heard from Leon a few days ago that they sold, though."
It was disconcerting to see Uther looking sheepish and it made Merlin's world tip on its axis for a brief moment.
"That would be because I bought them. I had intended to tell you sooner, but after the accident, I felt it was best to allow you to recuperate first. They are currently in storage, though I plan to have them hung in new children's ward they are building at the hospital. I thought that there is nothing little children like more than brave knights, daring princes and fierce dragons."
Arthur released Merlin's hand, his arm snaking around the taut shoulders. He brushed a kiss to Merlin's temple before speaking. "I would love to see them, Father. There are three?"
"Six, actually," Merlin mumbled, cheeks pink now that his fear had abated. "The rest are with Leon. I couldn't afford storage this time, and he promised to keep them safe. I hadn't wanted them to be part of the gallery showing, though. They were a bit more...personal."
"Would you be willing to sell them to me, Merlin?" Uther enquired.
"I'd be happy to donate the—them." Merlin stuttered out the last word as Uther glared balefully at him.
"I would hope that that as a friend of my son, you would have better business sense. It would seem, however, that that is not the case. Arthur, would you please explain to your...friend that he will need to start utilising his brain if he has any intention of becoming something other than a starving artist?"
Arthur lips twitched, but he managed not to smirk at his father's words. "I will see to it, Father," he replied, eyes already back on Merlin.
"Now, what is it you came here to tell me?" Uther's tone implied that he already knew the answer to his question, but Arthur humored him.
"I have found a place. I'm going to call the estate agent tomorrow so that I can show it to Merlin. The hope is that we will be able to move in before month's end."
Uther's face split in a broad smile, the first genuine one Merlin had ever seen him wear. It suited him, Merlin thought, and not for the first time his fingers itched to have his charcoals and pad so he could sketch. Unfortunately, his had not survived the meltdown he had suffered weeks before and he had not yet been to the supply store to replace them.
"So you are going to make an honest man out of him? Morgana will no doubt be smug. She was certain you two were destined for one another. She spent a good week before the Switzerland trip trying to devise ways to get the two of you snowed in together to 'give Fate a helping hand.' I will admit, it was amusing to watch the two of you pretend to be involved all for the sake of Arthur avoiding what he thought was a marriage set-up."
It took a few moments for the words to fully sink in. "But I thought—"
"Because Morgana no doubt wished youto. All part of her master plan, she told me. As it was, I merely wanted to see what kind of man Olaf was before I bought out his company. Had he proved to be of good character, I would have kept him on in a managerial position, but I realised it would be best for all involved if all ties were cut instead."
Recalling Olaf's unpleasant daughter, Merlin couldn't help but laugh. "I wonder how Vivian is dealing with her new status as a high-class pauper."
"They're hardly in financial ruin, Merlin. Last I heard, she was engaged to Bayard's oldest son. I do not believe that she knows he spends his time abroad in Third World countries, working as a volunteer for the Red Cross."
"It can only be character building," Merlin countered. "She can't possibly be any worse off."
It was Uther's turn to laugh. "No, I do not think that she can, though she was a far cry better than Arthur's last ill attempt at appeasing my wishes for him to settle down. What was her name son?"
Arthur's face went deliberately blank as he stared back. "I'm not sure who you're talking about. Merlin's has always been the only one for me. Now, if you don't mind, we're going to go speak with Cook and see if we can't arrange a meal befitting the announcement of our move."
As they exited the room, Arthur's arm still wrapped protectively around Merlin's shoulder, Merlin whispered, "I don't actually think the cook's name is Cook."
"Please, Merlin, I'm not an idiot. Her name is Hilde."
"Right. And you are aware that Hilde will not be moving with us, right?"
Arthur paused mid-step, horrified. "Then who is going to cook?" He shook his head, face relaxing. "Nevermind. I'll simply hire someone."
Merlin sighed and rolled his eyes. "Prat," he muttered, eyes twinkling with laughter.
Epilogue
Merlin wove his way through the sea of bodies, beyond ready to shed the stuffy tuxedo Arthur had literally forced him into. He could hear Gwen's laughter from somewhere to his left and could just spot Arthur's blond head straight ahead. He was about to make his way to Arthur's side when a hand on his arm stopped him. Merlin smiled as met his mother's fond gaze.
"Is it everything you hoped for?" she asked, tipping her head at the crowd of well-wishers.
"Yeah. Yeah, it is. I'm glad you were able to make it."
The nurse standing behind his mother's wheelchair looked away pointedly, but Merlin wasn't concerned about being overheard. He was still stunned to see his mother as she was, aware, smiling and talking. It had been so long that he had despaired of her ever making a recovery from the accident that had left her crippled. Now she was out and about, if still confined to the chair.
"There isn't any place I'd rather be, Merlin. And I'm so proud of you. I hear that another Camelot series has been commissioned."
"Of course it has," Arthur stated, sliding in next to Merlin. He bent to press a kiss to Hunith's cheek. "You are looking quite lovely today, Hunith. It would seem the country air has done you some good."
"Ever the charmer, Arthur, even on your wedding day. My son will have to keep an eye on you or you'll woo all the mothers here."
Arthur laughed good-naturedly. "Merlin is the only one for me and he knows it."
"I'm not so sure about that," Merlin said, frowning. "If I recall correctly, you promised little Bethany you would be her knight in shining armour."
Huffing with mock-outrage, Arthur shook his head. "Against that brat Mordred. Who the hell names a child that, I ask you?"
"You forget, I named my son Merlin."
"Which is a completely respectable name. After all, he's named after a legend. A positive legend, I might add."
"Mordred is perfectly sweet little boy, Arthur Pendragon. And besides, he's only barely two and his parents are your best friends."
They turned as one to glare at Lance and Gwen who were unaware of the discussion being held about them.
"Who invited them to the wedding again?"
"That would be Morgana," Merlin said. "And I'm fairly certain that Mordred's first name is actually quite benign. It's David, right?"
Arthur shrugged and Hunith laughed. "You two," she chided, shaking her head. "Look, they're getting ready for the first dance of the evening."
Arthur caught Merlin's hand in his, tugging him towards the dance floor. He relinquished his hold only long enough for Merlin to bend and kiss his mother. Then they were stumbling through the crowd once more, Merlin tucked safely against Arthur's side. There was an embarrassingly loud 'aww' from the on-lookers when Arthur caught Merlin before he could fall after tripping over David Mordred's shoes, earning them half-hearted glares from both young men.
As Hunith watched them move into the first dance, she laughed quietly. It was good to see Merlin so happy, so loved, after everything he had been through. She knew there were some secrets her son was keeping about his relationship with the young Pendragon, but she did not dwell on that. It was enough that she could see them together like this. Hopefully one day their union would be recognized by the rest of society as it should be, but for now, they were content to share the moment with their close friends and family.
As the evening wore on and the crowd began to disperse, Merlin caught Arthur's eye from across the room. Morgana was with Uther at one of the abandoned tables, their heads bent close as they laughed together and Gwen and Lance were watching as their son as he chased after Bethany, his stuffed dragon clutched tightly in one chubby fist. They would not be missed, Merlin decided, and he could see that Arthur had quickly reached the same conclusion.
Merlin set his champagne flute down and turned to his mother, who was losing her battle against the fatigue of a long day.
"Mother? Why don't you let the nurse take you back now?"
Hunith was about to argue with him when she saw Arthur hovering at the edge of the room near the exit. She wasn't the only one ready to retire. "I think I'll do that. You'll come by on Sunday?"
"Of course. Arthur will be there as well."
"Good. I love you honey," she added, taking his face in her hands. "Now go see to that man of yours." She cut off Merlin's horrified reply with a quick kiss and released him. As she was wheeled away, she saw Merlin slipping through the far door, Arthur right behind him, and smiled.
They didn't rush back to the room, but strolled down the hall, away from Uther's massive ballroom and their guests. Arthur linked fingers with Merlin, catching his eye and quirking his lips up in a soft smile. At the bottom of the stairs, just out of sight of the ballroom door, Arthur stopped and pressed Merlin to the wall.
"I like you in a tuxedo," he murmured against Merlin's lips. His hands travelled up Merlin's arms to his shoulders, then slid down his front to pull gently at the silk bowtie. With deft fingers, Arthur tugged it loose so that he could undo the top buttons of Merlin's shirt. "Love that you're wearing it for me."
"Yeah, well, I couldn't very well show up to my own wedding in jeans. Morgana would have had me flayed alive and then where would you be?"
Arthur chuckled as he mouthed along Merlin's jaw, one hand reaching up to tangle in the wavy locks, tilting Merlin's head to the side and exposing more of his slender neck to Arthur's questing mouth. "I don't wish to sound ungrateful, but I couldn't wait to be rid of all those people. It felt like every time I finally managed to track you down, someone else would whisk you away."
"I know," Merlin agreed, his fingers slipping inside Arthur's jacket and vest. He tugged impatiently on the shirt until he could feel warm skin and he sighed, eyes drifting shut even as he slid his hand into Arthur's trousers. "I've been dying to get you alone."
"Hmm."
Arthur's free hand mirrored Merlin's, moving past the layers of clothing separating them so that it could wrap around Merlin's cock. They groaned almost in unison, Merlin's head tipped back against the wall and Arthur's mouth sucking hot kisses along his collarbone. They broke apart when the ballroom door opened and laughter filtered down the hall to where they were barely concealed.
"Up," Arthur urged, and together they stumbled up the stairs to the second floor where their room was located. Rather than continue down the hall, however, they stopped once more.
Arthur pressed Merlin into the wall again, his hand already snaking back inside the tuxedo trousers. He pulled it free a second later to lick a broad swath over his palm, making certain his fingers were slick, then dove back in.
Merlin groaned when the fingers bypassed his cock and moved on. It was an awkward angle at best, but that didn't keep Arthur from pushing on, his fingers brushing over Merlin's balls, pressing against that sensitive spot just behind them and then further back.
"Oh god, Arthur." Merlin could barely do more than hang on, his fingers twisting in the shoulders of Arthur's jacket. Arthur was hard and hot where he was pressed against Merlin's thigh, but all of his attention was focused on pushing the first finger in, uncaring that they were still in the hallway.
"Merlin, Merlin, Merlin." Arthur kissed him hard as he pushed in the second finger, distracting Merlin from the burn of too much friction. "It was so hard keeping my hands off you all night. Can't believe it's done, that we're married now. Sod the laws."
"Arthur, Arthur please."
"Wanna be inside you right here. Wanna feel you wrapped tight around my body when I come and then—" He nipped at Merlin's bottom lip, adding a third finger. He pulled them out, slicked them with his tongue and pressed back in once more before he continued. "Then, once we're in the room, I want—I want you to fuck me."
Merlin nearly came undone just at the words. He hadn't pressed their roles in the bedroom, content to have Arthur anyway he wanted, but the idea of being trusted so much, of being inside Arthur was almost enough to make him come right there. He whimpered as Arthur manhandled him around, shoving his trousers down around his knees with one hand as he pressed Merlin forward with the other. There was the sound of Arthur wetting his hand again, stroking himself to slick his cock and then he was there, pushing into Merlin like there weren't still two hundred people one floor down from them.
It was slow going as Arthur pushed all the way inside, careful all the while not to hurt Merlin. By the time he was fully seated, his shirt was damp with sweat and his bangs were clinging to his forehead. Arthur's arms and legs shook with exertion as he waited for Merlin to adjust, and the moment he felt the muscles locked tightly around him clench, Arthur was moving, rolling his hips to drive himself deeper and deeper.
Hands gripping Merlin's hips, Arthur dropped his head to the back of Merlin's neck and let go, thrusting hard and fast. He could hear Merlin whispering his name, pleading for harder and faster and oh, yes, just like that. Please, don't stop. Don't stop ever.. Arthur slid one hand up, covering Merlin's mouth with his fingers, then sliding them inside for Merlin to suck on.
When they were slick to dripping, Arthur reached down and pressed the first one against the ring of muscle, sliding his finger inside Merlin along the length of his cock. It felt impossibly tight, but the sound Merlin made, the sharp keening, told Arthur that it was more pleasure than pain that was being felt, so he added the second and then the third. He moved them carefully, stretching Merlin wide as he feasted on the sight.
"Next time—next time I want to fuck you with the toy you bought last week. Want to watch you take me and then it, riding us both. Want you begging for it, desperate to be as fucked open as possible."
Merlin whimpered again and pushed back on Arthur's cock. Just the idea had him panting for it, his mind already consumed by the image Arthur had conjured. They had experimented with quite a few things over the last three years, but never the way Arthur was talking about. Merlin wondered how long Arthur had wanted to try it, then stopped thinking all together as a fourth finger pressed its way inside him.
The stretch was almost unbearable, the pain bordering on just this side of too much, but there was pleasure there still as well, and it took the edge off. As his body adjusted, Merlin began to press back, taking Arthur as deep as possible, urging him to move. The double sensation of Arthur's cock moving in and out of him and the fingers twisting and stroking was intense.
There was another burst of laughter downstairs, the sound growing closer as their unintended audience moved in their direction. Merlin's breath caught and he could hear Arthur's breath hitching as he began to thrust faster.
"Arthur," Merlin panted. "Hurry."
"Yeah. Yeah, almost there. Gotta touch yourself, Merlin. Please, need to feel you like this, squeezing my cock and my fingers, taking it all. Fuck, wanna see my come slipping out of you while I fuck you into the wall."
Merlin shuddered, eyes shut tightly as his whole body tensed. The sound of Arthur's words, the filth that he was gasping out as he fought off his own release, was too much and with a muffled shout, Merlin came.
"Oh god, oh fuck-Christ, Merlin!"
Arthur came explosively, Merlin's arse still clenched around him. He lost the rhythm of his thrusts, hips stuttering under the force of his orgasm. When he looked down, he could see a thin rivulet of come trailing out past his fingers to slide down the inside of Merlin's thigh and Arthur's cock gave one last valiant twitch, the last of his release being milked from him.
The sounds on the stairs stopped and there was a soft snickering before the footsteps retreated. Arthur spared a moment to wonder who had been there, but the sight of Merlin still spread wide open, legs trembling under the effort of keeping him upright, was too much to ignore.
Arthur dropped to his knees behind Merlin, hands molding to the curves of his arse to part them. He groaned at sight of Merlin's hole, red, raw and gaping from being stretched so wide. When he blew over abused flesh, Merlin whimpered and pushed back, knowing what Arthur intended to do and wanting it despite how sore he already was.
The first brush of Arthur's tongue over Merlin's entrance had it clenching, begging to be filled. Arthur moaned into Merlin's skin, breathing in his musky scent, savouring the heady flavour of himself and Merlin mingled together. Letting out a guttural groan, Arthur pressed back in, his tongue pushing into Merlin to search out the remnants of his own seed. It was as though he was on sensory overload, every part of him focused solely on Merlin. He traced the furrowed edge, lapped at the skin gone puffy from being fucked with too little lubrication and as an afterthought, darted downward to nuzzle at the back of Merlin's balls. Thoughts of being seen flew from Arthur's head leaving behind only want and need and a desire so strong it was practically thrumming with a life of its own in his veins.
Above him, Arthur could hear Merlin gasping and moaning his name, pleading with him for more. Arthur surged forward, his face buried in Merlin's cheeks, wet with his own saliva as he sloppily licked in and around Merlin's hole. He used his thumbs to pry Merlin open, forced his tongue in as deep as it would go and then sucked hard. He could feel Merlin go taut and he hummed, the vibrations sending out a tidal wave of sensation that had Merlin shaking almost violently, his body still overwrought from his previous orgasm.
Merlin went boneless a moment later, slumping to the ground. He was saved from striking his head on the floor by Arthur, who managed to slow Merlin's descent seconds before impact. It took some doing, but he managed to get them both tucked away, Merlin's tuxedo more or less straightened. There would be no disguising the fact that they had just shagged if they were chanced upon, but the rest of their dignity would be spared.
Clambering to his feet, Arthur reached down and pulled Merlin up, prepared to swing him into his arms bridal style if his legs didn't hold. Merlin was quick to guess Arthur's intent, though, and shot him a lethal glare.
"Do it and I'll sleep on the couch for the entirety of our honeymoon."
Arthur laughed softly. "We certainly can't have that. I have plans for that trip and none of them involve leaving the bed except to use the bathroom or answer the door for room service."
"You still haven't told me where we're going," Merlin pointed out as they staggered the few feet to their room. Arthur managed to shove the door open and waved Merlin through, smirking at the huff of annoyance.
"I told you, it's a surprise. There's no flying, though, so don't worry about that."
As he shed his tuxedo and climbed onto the bed, Merlin smiled up at Arthur. "Have I told, Arthur Pendragon-Emrys, just how much I love you?"
"Indeed you did, Merlin Emrys-Pendragon. In front of two hundred people, no less. But it never hurts to hear it again."
"Prat," Merlin muttered, but he graciously allowed the kiss Arthur gave him when he laid down beside Merlin. "Thank you. For everything."
"I'm the one that should be thanking you. For giving me the second chance to prove myself."
"Yes, well, I'm sure I'll regret that decision once you're glued to the telly watching footie for weeks on end and ignoring me."
Merlin yawned, eyes beginning to droop with exhaustion, and Arthur pulled him close, tucking Merlin's head beneath his chin. And as sleep slowly overtook them both, Arthur sent up one last prayer of thanks to the fates who had brought Merlin into his life.