FIC: For Worse or For Better, Chapter 1
Title: For Worse or For Better, Chapter 1
Pairing: Arthur/Merlin
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 4,835 this chapter; 20,636 total (GAH)
Spoilers: None
Warnings: None
Notes: Written for reel_merlin Take 2 prompt: The Proposal. Huge thanks to krazykipper for the britpicking, and as always to marzilla for the beta, and for somehow always convincing me that I want to write, even when I swear that I'm quitting. Any remaining mistakes are mine.
Notes Part 2: I don't really know anything about how all this immigration stuff works, so it may or may not be exactly right- I just followed the movie. And also, for the sake of storytelling, we're just going to pretend that same sex marriage is legal and enforceable in the US, 'kay? =)
Disclaimer: Merlin and The Proposal are properties of BBC/Shine and Touchstone Pictures respectively. Sadly, I'm making no money off this.
ETA: This story now has a sequel here.
Arthur strode calmly through the lobby, the crowd of early morning traffic parting before him. He paused briefly to scan his ID card and made his way to the elevator bank. Everyone gave him a wide berth, even inside the elevator, and he was just fine with that. Mostly.
Arthur Pendragon, editor-in-chief at Camelot House Publishing, was not a popular man. In fact, he was fairly certain he’d heard the words “slave driver” tossed around in conjunction with his name on more than one occasion. He was known for being merciless with his competitors, his colleagues, and his staff. But it got the job done-that was the bottom line.
At 30, he was the youngest editor-in-chief in CHP’s history. His father had started the company in England long before he was born, and Arthur inherited the American subsidiary when he was only 25 years old, after his father’s untimely death. It had been floundering when Arthur took over, but he’d moved to New York and slowly built it up, taking apart anyone who stood in his way. Now it was the top publishing house in the country, and it was all thanks to Arthur.
It was the least he could do to honor his father’s memory.
He got off the lift and walked toward his office, ignoring the way his employees scrambled to get out of his way. He also ignored the hateful glares thrown in his direction. Five years ago it would’ve bothered him. Now, he’d be happy to show any one of them the door, daring them to go elsewhere, to try and find something better, knowing full well that they couldn’t. So they stayed. And hated him.
Arthur tossed his bag onto the sofa by the window. Ignoring the flashing message light, he rang Mary, the receptionist.
“Has Merlin arrived yet?”
“Not yet, Mr. Pendragon. Would you like me to call him for you?”
“No, I’ll do it, thank you.”
Right on cue, his Blackberry buzzed in its holster on his belt, signaling the arrival of a new text message:
On my way…getting coffee…SO SORRY.
Arthur sighed, punching a quick reply:
You’re completely useless. Don’t forget the cinnamon this time.
Merlin quickly shot back:
Yes Sire.
Arthur had gone through fourteen different assistants in his first two years in New York. They’d all started out eager, hoping that getting in good with Arthur would get them somewhere in the company. But Arthur was moody, and demanding, and sometimes mean, so none had been able to take it for more than two months. Until Merlin came along.
He’d wound up in Arthur’s office literally by accident. He’d just moved to New York and was doing temp work, reporting for the first day of his first job-only he’d written the address down wrong and had come to CHP instead of the building next door, where he was supposed to be.
Arthur should’ve taken it for the sign that it so obviously was, but instead he’d hired Merlin on the spot. Another assistant had just quit, and Merlin was English. His accent was a bit washed out because he’d lived in the states since he was a teenager, but it was familiar enough that it had made Arthur’s chest ache with homesickness.
The similarities between them ended there, however. Merlin was clumsy, inept, and utterly hopeless. But where others had run screaming, Merlin had persevered, and three years later, Arthur almost had him trained.
The door to his office banged open and Merlin hurtled in, a mess of dark hair, skinny limbs, and ridiculously large ears. Arthur arched an eyebrow as Merlin rushed over, placing Arthur’s coffee on his desk.
“Jesus, I’m so sorry,” he said, setting down his own coffee and shrugging off his coat. “Bloody power went out again and knocked out the alarm.”
“Perhaps you should pay your electric bill,” Arthur suggested, taking a sip of his coffee.
“Perhaps you should give me a raise,” Merlin shot back, snatching up the phone as it started to ring. “Arthur Pendragon’s office.”
Arthur hid a slight smile behind the rim of his coffee cup. In addition to all his other faults, Merlin was extremely insolent. Arthur put up with it because sometimes, on very rare occasions, it was amusing.
“He’s not in yet, may I take a message?” Merlin was asking, uncapping a pen with his teeth. “No, Ms. Stuart, I don’t know what time he’ll be in.” He listened for a while longer and then rolled his eyes. “Well, perhaps if you’d submitted your manuscript on time, he’d be more inclined to return your calls right away. But I’ll give him the message,” he finished, hanging up before she could say another word.
“Is that any way to talk to a client, Merlin?” Arthur asked, flipping through the latest sales figures that had come up from accounting.
“Here are your messages from Friday afternoon,” Merlin said, completely ignoring the question and handing him a small stack of slips. “Morgana called. Again. She said it’s very important and that she’ll be calling every ten minutes today until you speak with her.”
“Put her off,” Arthur said. He didn’t feel like dealing with his sister. Besides, he paid her a huge amount of money to take care of things without bothering him.
“But-“
“Just do it, Merlin. Oh,” he added when Merlin turned to leave the office, “I’ll need you to come in this weekend to help me go through some of the archived manuscripts. It’s time to take inventory and make sure we’re all up to date, legally speaking.”
Merlin’s face fell. “This weekend?”
“Is that a problem?” Arthur asked, not really interested in the answer. Merlin would wind up giving in, as always, so the protest was pointless.
“It’s just that it’s my uncle’s 75th birthday this weekend. I was going to go home for his big party. I told you last week.”
Arthur vaguely remembered something like that. “Yes, well, it’s come to my attention that some of our rights are expiring soon. If I have to sit here all weekend with dusty old papers, I don’t see why you should get out of it.”
A flash of anger crossed Merlin’s face. “Fine,” he said through his teeth, “I’ll cancel.”
Merlin turned and practically stomped out of the room to his desk, located right outside Arthur’s office. Arthur had wanted him in the same room-there was plenty of space-but Merlin had refused, not wanting to be cut off from the rest of the staff. He was one of them after all; wildly popular with his co-workers in spite of whom he worked for. Or perhaps because of it: it probably garnered him a lot of pity.
It was quiet for the next few hours, Merlin holding all his calls while Arthur finished reading the first draft of a manuscript before assigning it to an editor. He toyed briefly with the idea of giving it to Merlin, knowing that, like the others, he hoped working for Arthur would get him somewhere. But Merlin wanted it more. And he’d be good at it-Arthur knew that much from the feedback he’d gotten from Merlin on various things over the years. But if Arthur made him an editor, he’d lose him as an assistant.
Arthur assigned it to someone else.
It was close to lunchtime when Merlin poked his head in. “Tristan wants to see you in his office immediately.” He sounded a bit sullen, but nowhere near as angry as he had been.
Arthur groaned. Though Arthur owned a majority of the shares in the company, he preferred to be involved with the publishing rather than the administration, so his uncle was the CEO. A summons to his office was never pleasant. They had a like-hate relationship--sometimes he thought that Tristan secretly blamed him for Igraine’s death, though how Arthur was supposed to have prevented his mother from dying after giving birth to him, he had no idea.
“All right,” he said, pushing his chair away from his desk and standing up. “Give it ten minutes and then come get me.”
Merlin waved his hand in acknowledgment. Arthur took the elevator up to the floor where the executive offices were located, squashing the nerves that tried to wreak havoc on his composure. He knocked once before opening the door.
“Arthur,” his uncle said, “come in, come in.”
Arthur came fully into the office and shut the door. His uncle was seated at his desk, and behind him, leaning against the windowsill with her arms crossed, was Morgana. Arthur blinked in surprise.
“Morgana. I didn’t know you were coming in, Merlin said-“
“Yes, I know,” she interrupted, “but if I called, you’d just ignore me, so I figured this was the best way.”
“Okay,” Arthur said, confused. Morgana was his immigration attorney. She rarely had dealings with the company itself.
“I invited Morgana,” Tristan said, looking at him ruefully. Like Arthur’s, her temper was legendary in the family. “It’s about your visa, Arthur.”
“Oh,” he said, relieved. “Is that all? I thought that--”
“Your visa’s been denied.” Morgana’s voice was flat, without inflection. Arthur stared at her, convinced he’d misheard.
“Sorry?”
She stood and leant over Tristan’s desk, bracing herself on her hands. “The United States government has denied your visa.”
“But why?”
“Apparently they didn’t like the fact that you ran off to Paris in January. I told you that you weren’t allowed to leave the country while your application was pending,” she said, glaring at him.
“I had to! Bayard was having a complete meltdown and wouldn’t do any promotional appearances without me. It would’ve cost the company hundreds of thousands of dollars if he’d cancelled!”
“Unfortunately, they don’t care about that,” Tristan said. “As it stands, you’re looking at deportation.”
“Depor-“ Arthur stopped, unable to believe what he was hearing. “Isn’t that a bit extreme? I’m English! We’re allies!”
“This isn’t war we’re talking about, Arthur,” his sister said, rubbing her eyes. “You didn’t even fill out your paperwork.”
“I’ll do it now. Can’t we just reapply?”
“Yes,” she said, “but not for a year, and you have to leave the country for at least that long.”
Arthur plunked into one of the seats in front of his uncle’s desk. He had to leave for a year. There was no way he could do his job from London. It was simply too far away.
“I was thinking of making Valiant interim editor-in-chief, just while you’re gone,” his uncle said. Arthur’s head snapped up.
“Valiant?”
“He’s the only one with anywhere close to enough experience.”
He was also a complete snake in the grass. Years ago, Arthur’s father had been interested in acquiring a small publishing house owned by Valiant’s father. Unfortunately, news of the potential buyout had leaked and caused the stock prices to plummet, essentially forcing Valiant’s father to sell to Uther in an effort to recoup some of his losses. Valiant had been adamant that Uther had leaked news of the buyout purposely and had sworn revenge.
Then, suddenly, two years ago he’d had a change of heart and had come looking for a job at CHP. Tristan had hired him immediately. It would show that there were no hard feelings, he’d said. Except Arthur was convinced he was a spy of some sort, working for a competitor, trying to figure out a way to bring the company down.
Arthur couldn’t leave CHP in his hands.
“Listen, Arthur,” his uncle said gently, “you’ve built this company up from nothing. We would love it if you could stay. Believe me when I say that if there was any way, any way at all, we would do it.”
There was a knock at the door. Everyone turned to look as Merlin stepped in, holding the door open. Right, Arthur thought miserably, his knight in shining fucking armour. “I’m so sorry to interrupt,” Merlin said, stopping short when he saw Morgana. “Morgana. Hi.”
“Hi Merlin,” she said warmly. She’d always had a bit of a soft spot for the clod.
“What are you doing here?” he asked.
“Can we help you?” Tristan cut in. “We’re in the middle of an important meeting.”
“Right, sorry.” Merlin shook himself and looked at Arthur. “Bayard’s on the phone-he’s called twice already since you left and insists on speaking with you now.”
“It’s all right,” Arthur said, waving his hand at Merlin, trying to convey that there was no escaping this time.
“Tell Mr. Mercia that Arthur is otherwise engaged,” Tristan snapped.
“Yes, I know, but-“
Engaged. Arthur whipped around in his chair and looked at his assistant. He vaguely remembered Merlin not having a visa when he started- something about his grandparents and parents being citizens. Which made Merlin a citizen. And if Arthur were to get his papers some other way-say, by marrying a citizen-he’d be able to stay in the country and keep the company out of Valiant’s grubby little hands.
Perhaps Merlin was his knight in shining armour after all.
He was starting to look very flustered under Tristan’s withering gaze, so Arthur quickly made his mind up. He strode over to the door, taking Merlin by the hand and pulling him into the room until they were standing next to each other in front of Tristan’s desk. Merlin looked down at their joined hands, blinking.
“Well, I had hoped to do this another way,” Arthur started, gripping Merlin’s hand tighter when he tried to pull away, “but given the circumstances, I don’t think we have a choice but to go public.”
“With what?” Tristan asked, looking between Merlin and Arthur.
Arthur took a deep breath. “We’re getting married.”
“Who’s getting married?” Merlin asked, sounding utterly confused.
“You and I, silly. Stop being coy,” he said, giving Merlin a warning nudge with his elbow. “We don’t have to hide it anymore.”
Merlin fell silent, apparently too stunned to say anything else. Morgana had no such problem. “You have got to be kidding me.”
“No, not at all,” Arthur said, letting go of Merlin’s hand and slinging an arm around his shoulder, preventing him from escaping. “We’ve been dating secretly for months.”
“Secretly,” Tristan said, sceptical.
“Yes, I didn’t think it’d be appropriate to say anything until we were sure, him being my assistant and all.”
“And now you’re sure,” Morgana said.
“Of course.”
“Merlin?” she asked, giving him a hard look. “Is this true?”
He whimpered, and Arthur reached a hand up to awkwardly pet his hair. “Don’t let her intimidate you, uh…dear?” Arthur said, stumbling over the endearment. He cleared his throat. “Just tell her that it’s true.”
Merlin made a noise that sounded suspiciously like a sob, but Arthur chose to take it as confirmation. “See?” he said triumphantly to his sister.
“Wait, I’m sorry,” Tristan said. “How would marrying Merlin help?”
“Oh, he’s a citizen,” Arthur said proudly, thumping Merlin on the back. “So are we all set here, then?”
Morgana opened her mouth, but their uncle cut her off. “Whatever you say, Arthur. Make it legal, and we’ll take care of the rest.”
“Legal, right.” He grabbed Merlin by the arm and started towing him out of the office. “We’ll get right on that. Very exciting!” he called out as the door closed behind them. Once they were in the elevator, he slumped against the wall in relief. Merlin stood ramrod straight, staring at the doors until they opened on their floor. He followed Arthur into his office and shut the door.
“What the bloody hell was that?”
“Watch your tone,” Arthur warned as he sat down, picking up the manuscript he’d been reading earlier.
“Oh, I’m sorry,” Merlin said, “but I thought I heard you tell Morgana and your uncle that you and I are getting married.”
“I did, yes,” Arthur said absently, scribbling some notes in the margin.
“I am not marrying you.”
“Yes, you are,” Arthur said, “because if you don’t, all your dreams of becoming an editor will be over. Your career will be ruined, and you will have wasted the last three years of your life catering to my every whim for nothing.”
“You’d fire me?” Merlin asked, outraged. Arthur sighed, putting down his pen.
“Of course not. I don’t like this any more than you do. But if I get deported, they’re going to make Valiant editor-in-chief. He’d never trust you; you’re too close to me. He’d fire you the moment I was gone. ”
Merlin let Arthur’s words sink in. “Oh God,” he finally said, covering his face with his hands. “Oh God.”
“Stop being so melodramatic,” Arthur said. “It’s only for a couple of years, and then we get a divorce and carry on with our lives. But until then, we’re stuck with each other.”
“I don’t want-“
There was a knock at the door. Morgana let herself in, glaring at Arthur. “Merlin, give us a minute, would you?”
Merlin nodded, shuffling out of the room.
“What do you think you’re doing?” she asked, hands on her hips.
“I don’t know what you mean.”
“This isn’t a fucking joke, Arthur. There could be serious consequences.”
“To marriage? I never knew you were such a pessimist,” he said, smirking.
“Don’t bullshit me. It’s fraud. I know you’re lying. And God, poor Merlin.”
“Poor Merlin?” He was a little offended at the implication that being married to him would make Merlin a “poor” anything.
“He’s a good boy Arthur; I’m not going to let you do this to him.”
“It’s not for you to let me do anything. You work for me, remember.”
“You’re such a bastard. How can you-“
“Just do the paperwork, Morgana,” he said. “I’ll take care of Merlin.”
“Yes, because you’ve done such a bang up job of that already,” she hissed, knocking a stack of his papers to the floor and storming out of the room. He sighed. For someone so worried about Merlin, she didn’t seem to mind making more work for him. He pressed the intercom button on his phone.
“Merlin, I need you.”
++++
“What the bloody hell is taking so long?”
Merlin shot him a bored look and then went back to typing furiously on his BlackBerry. “We’ve only been here ten minutes. Calm down.”
Arthur sat back and crossed his arms over his chest. They were at the Homeland Security office downtown, waiting for their interview. “I just don’t see why we have to wait so long for a visa. Shouldn’t they be more worried about important things, like apprehending terrorists? Why do we even need an interview anyway?”
“So they can make sure we’re not lying. Which,” Merlin continued, dropping his voice to a whisper, “by the way we are.”
Arthur rolled his eyes. Really, Merlin was being ridiculously dramatic about the whole thing. He’d been alternating between sulking and ignoring Arthur for the past two days. Add that to the poisonous emails and phone calls he’d gotten from Morgana as she completed the paperwork and Arthur was starting to get a bit annoyed.
“Look,” he said, trying to remain calm. “It’s not a big deal. Just stick to the story, and we’ll be out of here in no time. I really don’t see what there is to be so upset about.” He laughed. “What, were you saving yourself for someone special?”
Merlin pulled a face, but didn’t reply. Arthur was struck with a terrible thought--did Merlin already have a significant other? Is that what this was all about?
“Wait, are you seeing someone?” he asked, sounding genuinely surprised. It’s not that Merlin was unattractive, per se, he’d just never thought about it.
“What? No,” Merlin said. “No. But yes, as it happens, I was saving myself.”
Arthur cocked his head, amused. “Are you a virgin, Merlin?”
“You are a complete tosser.”
Arthur paused. “Are you?”
Arthur’s voice carried across the office, and Merlin cleared his throat as people looked their way. “Shut up, Arthur. And no, I’m not, don’t be ridiculous.”
“So then for whom were you saving yourself?”
“Oh, I don’t know, perhaps I wanted to marry someone I loved or something. Hell, at this point I’d settle for liking them.”
Arthur sat back in his chair. Merlin’s words stung. They’d never had a good relationship, but he’d never thought Merlin actually disliked him. He wasn’t sure why, though--why would Merlin be any different from the rest of his employees?
His lack of response must’ve unnerved his assistant. “Arthur?”
“Forget I said anything. Let’s just try and get through this.”
“I’m sorry,” Merlin finally said, quietly. “That was a horrible thing to say.”
“At least it was honest.”
Merlin bit his lip and looked like he was about to say something else, but just then their names were called. They were led to a small, cramped office and left to squeeze into the two chairs in front of the tiny desk. He looked at the nameplate on the desk: Nimueh Dumond.
He looked around the room, anywhere but at Merlin, trying to ignore the sick feeling that was crawling into his stomach. Why was this happening now? If he was going to have an attack of conscience-if that’s what this was, Arthur didn’t have much experience with them-did it have to happen right before the interview with the one person who could blow this all to hell and back?
“Arthur-“ Merlin ventured, but once again he was saved. The door opened again and a pretty woman stepped in, tall with dark hair and strikingly blue eyes, dressed in a sharp suit. The whole effect reminded him disturbingly of Morgana.
“Mr. Pendragon?” she asked Merlin hesitantly, eyeing them both.
“That’s me,” he said, standing and offering his hand. “Arthur.”
“Pleased to meet you. And so you must be Mr. Emrys,” she said, smiling at Merlin and shaking his hand as well. “I’m Ms. Dumond, I’ve been assigned to your case.” She walked around to the back of the desk. “I’m sorry about the mess; it’s been one of those mornings.”
Arthur exchanged a glance with Merlin. She didn’t seem quite so bad. She sat down, smiling at him prettily. Come to think of it, Arthur thought generously, she was actually quite beautiful.
“Just to clear one thing up before we start,” she said, opening the file in front of her. “You two wouldn’t happen to be committing fraud because Mr. Pendragon’s visa was denied and he’s facing deportation, would you?”
On second thought, perhaps she was a bit of a toad.
“What?” Arthur spluttered, indignant as though he had the right to be. “Who told you that?”
“Well, obviously, you’re facing quite the predicament, Mr. Pendragon. You can hardly keep your position at the company if you’re deported,” she said, leaning forward and resting her elbows on the desk. “I’ve heard about you, you know. Arrogant, think you’re God’s gift to everything-I wouldn’t put it past you to bully your assistant into doing this.”
Definitely a toad. She turned to Merlin, her face softening a bit. “Am I right, Merlin? Is he forcing you to do this?” Merlin hesitated and, sensing weakness, Nimueh pressed harder. “Don’t you want to tell me the truth, Merlin?”
“The truth…” Merlin started, his voice faltering, “the truth is that Arthur and I-” he shot a quick glance at Arthur, who smiled in a way he hoped was encouraging and not at all threatening. “We’re in love,” Merlin said finally. “Only we didn’t want to tell anyone because Arthur felt it would be inappropriate. With my promotion coming up and all.”
“Promotion?” Nimueh and Arthur asked simultaneously. Merlin smiled at him and reached over to squeeze his hand where it sat on the arm of the chair.
“It’s all right,” he said to Arthur, “she has to know.” Turning back to Nimueh, he said, “Arthur’s promoting me. To editor. But we thought that if it came out that we were seeing each other, people would question his motivation.”
Arthur stared at him. The little weasel. Nimueh frowned, thrown off by the legitimate excuse.
“Does your family know about this?”
“My family’s dead,” Arthur said, “aside from my sister, and she’s aware of it.”
“Merlin?”
“We were going to tell them this weekend,” Arthur said quickly. Two could play at this game. “It’s Merlin’s uncle’s 75th birthday and there’s going to be a huge party. We thought we’d do it there, surprise everyone. Right, honey?” he asked Merlin, smiling triumphantly. Merlin’s eyes narrowed, but he didn’t deny it.
“And…where is this party going to be?”
“Merlin’s parents’ house.”
“And where is that, exactly?”
Arthur paused, scrambling for the answer. Oh God-he didn’t know where Merlin’s parents lived. How could he not know?
“Ealdor,” Merlin said, sounding far too serene. “Alaska.”
“Alaska. Alaska?” Arthur asked, the image of himself being mauled by a polar bear or possibly harpooned by an Eskimo coming terrifyingly to mind. Merlin just smiled.
Nimueh watched them for a long moment. “Well,” she finally said, “let me tell you how this is going to go. You’re going to come back here for an interview on Monday morning. I’m going to separate you and ask you everything-all the things a real couple would know about each other. Then I’m going to talk to your families, your neighbours, your co-workers.”
Merlin made a strangled sound. Nimueh eyed him briefly before continuing.
“If, at any point, anything indicates to me that this is fraudulent,” she paused for dramatic effect before turning to Arthur, “you will be on a plane to England, never allowed to return again, and you, Mr. Emrys, will be guilty of a felony, carrying with it a $250,000 fine and a sentence of five years in federal prison. Got it?”
Merlin blanched, and Arthur stood up, grabbing him by the arm and hauling him out of his chair. “Thank you. We’ll just be out of your way, then.”
+++
Arthur shoved open the doors that led to the sidewalk. “All right, so you need to make our flight reservations, and reserve a hotel while you’re at it-they do have hotels there, yeah? And for heaven’s sake, Merlin…Alaska? Really? Why couldn’t your family settle in New York, or Los Angeles, like normal people?”
Merlin turned on him, angry, bringing him up short. “Shut up, Arthur.”
“What’s with you?”
“Me?” Merlin spluttered, “what’s with me? Were you not in there just now?”
“Of course I was, don’t be stupid. And speaking of stupid, what was all that rubbish about being promoted?”
“Oh, I’m getting that promotion,” Merlin said, hands on his hips.
“Promote you to editor? Not a chance.”
“Fine,” Merlin said with a shrug, turning and walking away, “I quit. Have a nice trip back to England.”
Panic flared up in Arthur’s chest. “Wait a minute!” He ran to catch up and grabbed Merlin’s elbow, bringing him round so they were face to face.
“No,” Merlin snapped, snatching his arm away. “Things have changed. I could go to prison for this. Promote me, or I’m out.”
Arthur ran his hand through his hair, at a loss. “All right, fine. If you go through the whole thing, the weekend with your family, the interview, the wedding, I’ll promote you.”
“Effective immediately,” Merlin added. “And I want a raise, obviously. A big one.”
“Now wait just a minute-“
“No!” Merlin shouted, drawing attention to them. Arthur took a step back, surprised. “If I have to do this to save your arse,” he said, jabbing a finger at Arthur’s chest, “then I am damn well getting something out of it.”
“All right, all right,” Arthur said, raising his hands in surrender. “Calm down.”
Merlin relented, smoothing down the front of his sweater. “That’s better. Now, ask me nicely.”
Arthur eyed him warily. “Ask you what?”
“To marry you.”
“…you’re joking.”
“No. Go on then, down on one knee.”
Arthur stared at him, but Merlin only crossed his arms and waited, eyebrow arched. He looked around-the plaza was full of people, darting here and there, streaming in and out of the building. “Here?” he asked, a little desperate.
“Right here.”
Arthur cursed under his breath. Reluctantly, he got down onto one knee and peered up at his assistant, who was watching him with a smug smile.
“Willyoumarryme?” he mumbled, feeling his cheeks start to burn. This was humiliating; people were staring. Merlin just touched a finger to his ear.
“Sorry, what was that?”
“Will you marry me?” Arthur repeated, clearer this time.
“Like you mean it.”
“Fine,” Arthur snapped, squaring his shoulders. “Merlin Emrys, will you do me the proud honour of becoming my husband? Pretty please?”
Merlin cocked his head, considering. “That’ll do.” He turned and started walking away from Arthur. “See you tomorrow at the airport,” he threw back over his shoulder and then he disappeared into the crowd, leaving Arthur kneeling on the filthy sidewalk.
Chapter 2
Pairing: Arthur/Merlin
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 4,835 this chapter; 20,636 total (GAH)
Spoilers: None
Warnings: None
Notes: Written for reel_merlin Take 2 prompt: The Proposal. Huge thanks to krazykipper for the britpicking, and as always to marzilla for the beta, and for somehow always convincing me that I want to write, even when I swear that I'm quitting. Any remaining mistakes are mine.
Notes Part 2: I don't really know anything about how all this immigration stuff works, so it may or may not be exactly right- I just followed the movie. And also, for the sake of storytelling, we're just going to pretend that same sex marriage is legal and enforceable in the US, 'kay? =)
Disclaimer: Merlin and The Proposal are properties of BBC/Shine and Touchstone Pictures respectively. Sadly, I'm making no money off this.
ETA: This story now has a sequel here.
Arthur strode calmly through the lobby, the crowd of early morning traffic parting before him. He paused briefly to scan his ID card and made his way to the elevator bank. Everyone gave him a wide berth, even inside the elevator, and he was just fine with that. Mostly.
Arthur Pendragon, editor-in-chief at Camelot House Publishing, was not a popular man. In fact, he was fairly certain he’d heard the words “slave driver” tossed around in conjunction with his name on more than one occasion. He was known for being merciless with his competitors, his colleagues, and his staff. But it got the job done-that was the bottom line.
At 30, he was the youngest editor-in-chief in CHP’s history. His father had started the company in England long before he was born, and Arthur inherited the American subsidiary when he was only 25 years old, after his father’s untimely death. It had been floundering when Arthur took over, but he’d moved to New York and slowly built it up, taking apart anyone who stood in his way. Now it was the top publishing house in the country, and it was all thanks to Arthur.
It was the least he could do to honor his father’s memory.
He got off the lift and walked toward his office, ignoring the way his employees scrambled to get out of his way. He also ignored the hateful glares thrown in his direction. Five years ago it would’ve bothered him. Now, he’d be happy to show any one of them the door, daring them to go elsewhere, to try and find something better, knowing full well that they couldn’t. So they stayed. And hated him.
Arthur tossed his bag onto the sofa by the window. Ignoring the flashing message light, he rang Mary, the receptionist.
“Has Merlin arrived yet?”
“Not yet, Mr. Pendragon. Would you like me to call him for you?”
“No, I’ll do it, thank you.”
Right on cue, his Blackberry buzzed in its holster on his belt, signaling the arrival of a new text message:
On my way…getting coffee…SO SORRY.
Arthur sighed, punching a quick reply:
You’re completely useless. Don’t forget the cinnamon this time.
Merlin quickly shot back:
Yes Sire.
Arthur had gone through fourteen different assistants in his first two years in New York. They’d all started out eager, hoping that getting in good with Arthur would get them somewhere in the company. But Arthur was moody, and demanding, and sometimes mean, so none had been able to take it for more than two months. Until Merlin came along.
He’d wound up in Arthur’s office literally by accident. He’d just moved to New York and was doing temp work, reporting for the first day of his first job-only he’d written the address down wrong and had come to CHP instead of the building next door, where he was supposed to be.
Arthur should’ve taken it for the sign that it so obviously was, but instead he’d hired Merlin on the spot. Another assistant had just quit, and Merlin was English. His accent was a bit washed out because he’d lived in the states since he was a teenager, but it was familiar enough that it had made Arthur’s chest ache with homesickness.
The similarities between them ended there, however. Merlin was clumsy, inept, and utterly hopeless. But where others had run screaming, Merlin had persevered, and three years later, Arthur almost had him trained.
The door to his office banged open and Merlin hurtled in, a mess of dark hair, skinny limbs, and ridiculously large ears. Arthur arched an eyebrow as Merlin rushed over, placing Arthur’s coffee on his desk.
“Jesus, I’m so sorry,” he said, setting down his own coffee and shrugging off his coat. “Bloody power went out again and knocked out the alarm.”
“Perhaps you should pay your electric bill,” Arthur suggested, taking a sip of his coffee.
“Perhaps you should give me a raise,” Merlin shot back, snatching up the phone as it started to ring. “Arthur Pendragon’s office.”
Arthur hid a slight smile behind the rim of his coffee cup. In addition to all his other faults, Merlin was extremely insolent. Arthur put up with it because sometimes, on very rare occasions, it was amusing.
“He’s not in yet, may I take a message?” Merlin was asking, uncapping a pen with his teeth. “No, Ms. Stuart, I don’t know what time he’ll be in.” He listened for a while longer and then rolled his eyes. “Well, perhaps if you’d submitted your manuscript on time, he’d be more inclined to return your calls right away. But I’ll give him the message,” he finished, hanging up before she could say another word.
“Is that any way to talk to a client, Merlin?” Arthur asked, flipping through the latest sales figures that had come up from accounting.
“Here are your messages from Friday afternoon,” Merlin said, completely ignoring the question and handing him a small stack of slips. “Morgana called. Again. She said it’s very important and that she’ll be calling every ten minutes today until you speak with her.”
“Put her off,” Arthur said. He didn’t feel like dealing with his sister. Besides, he paid her a huge amount of money to take care of things without bothering him.
“But-“
“Just do it, Merlin. Oh,” he added when Merlin turned to leave the office, “I’ll need you to come in this weekend to help me go through some of the archived manuscripts. It’s time to take inventory and make sure we’re all up to date, legally speaking.”
Merlin’s face fell. “This weekend?”
“Is that a problem?” Arthur asked, not really interested in the answer. Merlin would wind up giving in, as always, so the protest was pointless.
“It’s just that it’s my uncle’s 75th birthday this weekend. I was going to go home for his big party. I told you last week.”
Arthur vaguely remembered something like that. “Yes, well, it’s come to my attention that some of our rights are expiring soon. If I have to sit here all weekend with dusty old papers, I don’t see why you should get out of it.”
A flash of anger crossed Merlin’s face. “Fine,” he said through his teeth, “I’ll cancel.”
Merlin turned and practically stomped out of the room to his desk, located right outside Arthur’s office. Arthur had wanted him in the same room-there was plenty of space-but Merlin had refused, not wanting to be cut off from the rest of the staff. He was one of them after all; wildly popular with his co-workers in spite of whom he worked for. Or perhaps because of it: it probably garnered him a lot of pity.
It was quiet for the next few hours, Merlin holding all his calls while Arthur finished reading the first draft of a manuscript before assigning it to an editor. He toyed briefly with the idea of giving it to Merlin, knowing that, like the others, he hoped working for Arthur would get him somewhere. But Merlin wanted it more. And he’d be good at it-Arthur knew that much from the feedback he’d gotten from Merlin on various things over the years. But if Arthur made him an editor, he’d lose him as an assistant.
Arthur assigned it to someone else.
It was close to lunchtime when Merlin poked his head in. “Tristan wants to see you in his office immediately.” He sounded a bit sullen, but nowhere near as angry as he had been.
Arthur groaned. Though Arthur owned a majority of the shares in the company, he preferred to be involved with the publishing rather than the administration, so his uncle was the CEO. A summons to his office was never pleasant. They had a like-hate relationship--sometimes he thought that Tristan secretly blamed him for Igraine’s death, though how Arthur was supposed to have prevented his mother from dying after giving birth to him, he had no idea.
“All right,” he said, pushing his chair away from his desk and standing up. “Give it ten minutes and then come get me.”
Merlin waved his hand in acknowledgment. Arthur took the elevator up to the floor where the executive offices were located, squashing the nerves that tried to wreak havoc on his composure. He knocked once before opening the door.
“Arthur,” his uncle said, “come in, come in.”
Arthur came fully into the office and shut the door. His uncle was seated at his desk, and behind him, leaning against the windowsill with her arms crossed, was Morgana. Arthur blinked in surprise.
“Morgana. I didn’t know you were coming in, Merlin said-“
“Yes, I know,” she interrupted, “but if I called, you’d just ignore me, so I figured this was the best way.”
“Okay,” Arthur said, confused. Morgana was his immigration attorney. She rarely had dealings with the company itself.
“I invited Morgana,” Tristan said, looking at him ruefully. Like Arthur’s, her temper was legendary in the family. “It’s about your visa, Arthur.”
“Oh,” he said, relieved. “Is that all? I thought that--”
“Your visa’s been denied.” Morgana’s voice was flat, without inflection. Arthur stared at her, convinced he’d misheard.
“Sorry?”
She stood and leant over Tristan’s desk, bracing herself on her hands. “The United States government has denied your visa.”
“But why?”
“Apparently they didn’t like the fact that you ran off to Paris in January. I told you that you weren’t allowed to leave the country while your application was pending,” she said, glaring at him.
“I had to! Bayard was having a complete meltdown and wouldn’t do any promotional appearances without me. It would’ve cost the company hundreds of thousands of dollars if he’d cancelled!”
“Unfortunately, they don’t care about that,” Tristan said. “As it stands, you’re looking at deportation.”
“Depor-“ Arthur stopped, unable to believe what he was hearing. “Isn’t that a bit extreme? I’m English! We’re allies!”
“This isn’t war we’re talking about, Arthur,” his sister said, rubbing her eyes. “You didn’t even fill out your paperwork.”
“I’ll do it now. Can’t we just reapply?”
“Yes,” she said, “but not for a year, and you have to leave the country for at least that long.”
Arthur plunked into one of the seats in front of his uncle’s desk. He had to leave for a year. There was no way he could do his job from London. It was simply too far away.
“I was thinking of making Valiant interim editor-in-chief, just while you’re gone,” his uncle said. Arthur’s head snapped up.
“Valiant?”
“He’s the only one with anywhere close to enough experience.”
He was also a complete snake in the grass. Years ago, Arthur’s father had been interested in acquiring a small publishing house owned by Valiant’s father. Unfortunately, news of the potential buyout had leaked and caused the stock prices to plummet, essentially forcing Valiant’s father to sell to Uther in an effort to recoup some of his losses. Valiant had been adamant that Uther had leaked news of the buyout purposely and had sworn revenge.
Then, suddenly, two years ago he’d had a change of heart and had come looking for a job at CHP. Tristan had hired him immediately. It would show that there were no hard feelings, he’d said. Except Arthur was convinced he was a spy of some sort, working for a competitor, trying to figure out a way to bring the company down.
Arthur couldn’t leave CHP in his hands.
“Listen, Arthur,” his uncle said gently, “you’ve built this company up from nothing. We would love it if you could stay. Believe me when I say that if there was any way, any way at all, we would do it.”
There was a knock at the door. Everyone turned to look as Merlin stepped in, holding the door open. Right, Arthur thought miserably, his knight in shining fucking armour. “I’m so sorry to interrupt,” Merlin said, stopping short when he saw Morgana. “Morgana. Hi.”
“Hi Merlin,” she said warmly. She’d always had a bit of a soft spot for the clod.
“What are you doing here?” he asked.
“Can we help you?” Tristan cut in. “We’re in the middle of an important meeting.”
“Right, sorry.” Merlin shook himself and looked at Arthur. “Bayard’s on the phone-he’s called twice already since you left and insists on speaking with you now.”
“It’s all right,” Arthur said, waving his hand at Merlin, trying to convey that there was no escaping this time.
“Tell Mr. Mercia that Arthur is otherwise engaged,” Tristan snapped.
“Yes, I know, but-“
Engaged. Arthur whipped around in his chair and looked at his assistant. He vaguely remembered Merlin not having a visa when he started- something about his grandparents and parents being citizens. Which made Merlin a citizen. And if Arthur were to get his papers some other way-say, by marrying a citizen-he’d be able to stay in the country and keep the company out of Valiant’s grubby little hands.
Perhaps Merlin was his knight in shining armour after all.
He was starting to look very flustered under Tristan’s withering gaze, so Arthur quickly made his mind up. He strode over to the door, taking Merlin by the hand and pulling him into the room until they were standing next to each other in front of Tristan’s desk. Merlin looked down at their joined hands, blinking.
“Well, I had hoped to do this another way,” Arthur started, gripping Merlin’s hand tighter when he tried to pull away, “but given the circumstances, I don’t think we have a choice but to go public.”
“With what?” Tristan asked, looking between Merlin and Arthur.
Arthur took a deep breath. “We’re getting married.”
“Who’s getting married?” Merlin asked, sounding utterly confused.
“You and I, silly. Stop being coy,” he said, giving Merlin a warning nudge with his elbow. “We don’t have to hide it anymore.”
Merlin fell silent, apparently too stunned to say anything else. Morgana had no such problem. “You have got to be kidding me.”
“No, not at all,” Arthur said, letting go of Merlin’s hand and slinging an arm around his shoulder, preventing him from escaping. “We’ve been dating secretly for months.”
“Secretly,” Tristan said, sceptical.
“Yes, I didn’t think it’d be appropriate to say anything until we were sure, him being my assistant and all.”
“And now you’re sure,” Morgana said.
“Of course.”
“Merlin?” she asked, giving him a hard look. “Is this true?”
He whimpered, and Arthur reached a hand up to awkwardly pet his hair. “Don’t let her intimidate you, uh…dear?” Arthur said, stumbling over the endearment. He cleared his throat. “Just tell her that it’s true.”
Merlin made a noise that sounded suspiciously like a sob, but Arthur chose to take it as confirmation. “See?” he said triumphantly to his sister.
“Wait, I’m sorry,” Tristan said. “How would marrying Merlin help?”
“Oh, he’s a citizen,” Arthur said proudly, thumping Merlin on the back. “So are we all set here, then?”
Morgana opened her mouth, but their uncle cut her off. “Whatever you say, Arthur. Make it legal, and we’ll take care of the rest.”
“Legal, right.” He grabbed Merlin by the arm and started towing him out of the office. “We’ll get right on that. Very exciting!” he called out as the door closed behind them. Once they were in the elevator, he slumped against the wall in relief. Merlin stood ramrod straight, staring at the doors until they opened on their floor. He followed Arthur into his office and shut the door.
“What the bloody hell was that?”
“Watch your tone,” Arthur warned as he sat down, picking up the manuscript he’d been reading earlier.
“Oh, I’m sorry,” Merlin said, “but I thought I heard you tell Morgana and your uncle that you and I are getting married.”
“I did, yes,” Arthur said absently, scribbling some notes in the margin.
“I am not marrying you.”
“Yes, you are,” Arthur said, “because if you don’t, all your dreams of becoming an editor will be over. Your career will be ruined, and you will have wasted the last three years of your life catering to my every whim for nothing.”
“You’d fire me?” Merlin asked, outraged. Arthur sighed, putting down his pen.
“Of course not. I don’t like this any more than you do. But if I get deported, they’re going to make Valiant editor-in-chief. He’d never trust you; you’re too close to me. He’d fire you the moment I was gone. ”
Merlin let Arthur’s words sink in. “Oh God,” he finally said, covering his face with his hands. “Oh God.”
“Stop being so melodramatic,” Arthur said. “It’s only for a couple of years, and then we get a divorce and carry on with our lives. But until then, we’re stuck with each other.”
“I don’t want-“
There was a knock at the door. Morgana let herself in, glaring at Arthur. “Merlin, give us a minute, would you?”
Merlin nodded, shuffling out of the room.
“What do you think you’re doing?” she asked, hands on her hips.
“I don’t know what you mean.”
“This isn’t a fucking joke, Arthur. There could be serious consequences.”
“To marriage? I never knew you were such a pessimist,” he said, smirking.
“Don’t bullshit me. It’s fraud. I know you’re lying. And God, poor Merlin.”
“Poor Merlin?” He was a little offended at the implication that being married to him would make Merlin a “poor” anything.
“He’s a good boy Arthur; I’m not going to let you do this to him.”
“It’s not for you to let me do anything. You work for me, remember.”
“You’re such a bastard. How can you-“
“Just do the paperwork, Morgana,” he said. “I’ll take care of Merlin.”
“Yes, because you’ve done such a bang up job of that already,” she hissed, knocking a stack of his papers to the floor and storming out of the room. He sighed. For someone so worried about Merlin, she didn’t seem to mind making more work for him. He pressed the intercom button on his phone.
“Merlin, I need you.”
++++
“What the bloody hell is taking so long?”
Merlin shot him a bored look and then went back to typing furiously on his BlackBerry. “We’ve only been here ten minutes. Calm down.”
Arthur sat back and crossed his arms over his chest. They were at the Homeland Security office downtown, waiting for their interview. “I just don’t see why we have to wait so long for a visa. Shouldn’t they be more worried about important things, like apprehending terrorists? Why do we even need an interview anyway?”
“So they can make sure we’re not lying. Which,” Merlin continued, dropping his voice to a whisper, “by the way we are.”
Arthur rolled his eyes. Really, Merlin was being ridiculously dramatic about the whole thing. He’d been alternating between sulking and ignoring Arthur for the past two days. Add that to the poisonous emails and phone calls he’d gotten from Morgana as she completed the paperwork and Arthur was starting to get a bit annoyed.
“Look,” he said, trying to remain calm. “It’s not a big deal. Just stick to the story, and we’ll be out of here in no time. I really don’t see what there is to be so upset about.” He laughed. “What, were you saving yourself for someone special?”
Merlin pulled a face, but didn’t reply. Arthur was struck with a terrible thought--did Merlin already have a significant other? Is that what this was all about?
“Wait, are you seeing someone?” he asked, sounding genuinely surprised. It’s not that Merlin was unattractive, per se, he’d just never thought about it.
“What? No,” Merlin said. “No. But yes, as it happens, I was saving myself.”
Arthur cocked his head, amused. “Are you a virgin, Merlin?”
“You are a complete tosser.”
Arthur paused. “Are you?”
Arthur’s voice carried across the office, and Merlin cleared his throat as people looked their way. “Shut up, Arthur. And no, I’m not, don’t be ridiculous.”
“So then for whom were you saving yourself?”
“Oh, I don’t know, perhaps I wanted to marry someone I loved or something. Hell, at this point I’d settle for liking them.”
Arthur sat back in his chair. Merlin’s words stung. They’d never had a good relationship, but he’d never thought Merlin actually disliked him. He wasn’t sure why, though--why would Merlin be any different from the rest of his employees?
His lack of response must’ve unnerved his assistant. “Arthur?”
“Forget I said anything. Let’s just try and get through this.”
“I’m sorry,” Merlin finally said, quietly. “That was a horrible thing to say.”
“At least it was honest.”
Merlin bit his lip and looked like he was about to say something else, but just then their names were called. They were led to a small, cramped office and left to squeeze into the two chairs in front of the tiny desk. He looked at the nameplate on the desk: Nimueh Dumond.
He looked around the room, anywhere but at Merlin, trying to ignore the sick feeling that was crawling into his stomach. Why was this happening now? If he was going to have an attack of conscience-if that’s what this was, Arthur didn’t have much experience with them-did it have to happen right before the interview with the one person who could blow this all to hell and back?
“Arthur-“ Merlin ventured, but once again he was saved. The door opened again and a pretty woman stepped in, tall with dark hair and strikingly blue eyes, dressed in a sharp suit. The whole effect reminded him disturbingly of Morgana.
“Mr. Pendragon?” she asked Merlin hesitantly, eyeing them both.
“That’s me,” he said, standing and offering his hand. “Arthur.”
“Pleased to meet you. And so you must be Mr. Emrys,” she said, smiling at Merlin and shaking his hand as well. “I’m Ms. Dumond, I’ve been assigned to your case.” She walked around to the back of the desk. “I’m sorry about the mess; it’s been one of those mornings.”
Arthur exchanged a glance with Merlin. She didn’t seem quite so bad. She sat down, smiling at him prettily. Come to think of it, Arthur thought generously, she was actually quite beautiful.
“Just to clear one thing up before we start,” she said, opening the file in front of her. “You two wouldn’t happen to be committing fraud because Mr. Pendragon’s visa was denied and he’s facing deportation, would you?”
On second thought, perhaps she was a bit of a toad.
“What?” Arthur spluttered, indignant as though he had the right to be. “Who told you that?”
“Well, obviously, you’re facing quite the predicament, Mr. Pendragon. You can hardly keep your position at the company if you’re deported,” she said, leaning forward and resting her elbows on the desk. “I’ve heard about you, you know. Arrogant, think you’re God’s gift to everything-I wouldn’t put it past you to bully your assistant into doing this.”
Definitely a toad. She turned to Merlin, her face softening a bit. “Am I right, Merlin? Is he forcing you to do this?” Merlin hesitated and, sensing weakness, Nimueh pressed harder. “Don’t you want to tell me the truth, Merlin?”
“The truth…” Merlin started, his voice faltering, “the truth is that Arthur and I-” he shot a quick glance at Arthur, who smiled in a way he hoped was encouraging and not at all threatening. “We’re in love,” Merlin said finally. “Only we didn’t want to tell anyone because Arthur felt it would be inappropriate. With my promotion coming up and all.”
“Promotion?” Nimueh and Arthur asked simultaneously. Merlin smiled at him and reached over to squeeze his hand where it sat on the arm of the chair.
“It’s all right,” he said to Arthur, “she has to know.” Turning back to Nimueh, he said, “Arthur’s promoting me. To editor. But we thought that if it came out that we were seeing each other, people would question his motivation.”
Arthur stared at him. The little weasel. Nimueh frowned, thrown off by the legitimate excuse.
“Does your family know about this?”
“My family’s dead,” Arthur said, “aside from my sister, and she’s aware of it.”
“Merlin?”
“We were going to tell them this weekend,” Arthur said quickly. Two could play at this game. “It’s Merlin’s uncle’s 75th birthday and there’s going to be a huge party. We thought we’d do it there, surprise everyone. Right, honey?” he asked Merlin, smiling triumphantly. Merlin’s eyes narrowed, but he didn’t deny it.
“And…where is this party going to be?”
“Merlin’s parents’ house.”
“And where is that, exactly?”
Arthur paused, scrambling for the answer. Oh God-he didn’t know where Merlin’s parents lived. How could he not know?
“Ealdor,” Merlin said, sounding far too serene. “Alaska.”
“Alaska. Alaska?” Arthur asked, the image of himself being mauled by a polar bear or possibly harpooned by an Eskimo coming terrifyingly to mind. Merlin just smiled.
Nimueh watched them for a long moment. “Well,” she finally said, “let me tell you how this is going to go. You’re going to come back here for an interview on Monday morning. I’m going to separate you and ask you everything-all the things a real couple would know about each other. Then I’m going to talk to your families, your neighbours, your co-workers.”
Merlin made a strangled sound. Nimueh eyed him briefly before continuing.
“If, at any point, anything indicates to me that this is fraudulent,” she paused for dramatic effect before turning to Arthur, “you will be on a plane to England, never allowed to return again, and you, Mr. Emrys, will be guilty of a felony, carrying with it a $250,000 fine and a sentence of five years in federal prison. Got it?”
Merlin blanched, and Arthur stood up, grabbing him by the arm and hauling him out of his chair. “Thank you. We’ll just be out of your way, then.”
+++
Arthur shoved open the doors that led to the sidewalk. “All right, so you need to make our flight reservations, and reserve a hotel while you’re at it-they do have hotels there, yeah? And for heaven’s sake, Merlin…Alaska? Really? Why couldn’t your family settle in New York, or Los Angeles, like normal people?”
Merlin turned on him, angry, bringing him up short. “Shut up, Arthur.”
“What’s with you?”
“Me?” Merlin spluttered, “what’s with me? Were you not in there just now?”
“Of course I was, don’t be stupid. And speaking of stupid, what was all that rubbish about being promoted?”
“Oh, I’m getting that promotion,” Merlin said, hands on his hips.
“Promote you to editor? Not a chance.”
“Fine,” Merlin said with a shrug, turning and walking away, “I quit. Have a nice trip back to England.”
Panic flared up in Arthur’s chest. “Wait a minute!” He ran to catch up and grabbed Merlin’s elbow, bringing him round so they were face to face.
“No,” Merlin snapped, snatching his arm away. “Things have changed. I could go to prison for this. Promote me, or I’m out.”
Arthur ran his hand through his hair, at a loss. “All right, fine. If you go through the whole thing, the weekend with your family, the interview, the wedding, I’ll promote you.”
“Effective immediately,” Merlin added. “And I want a raise, obviously. A big one.”
“Now wait just a minute-“
“No!” Merlin shouted, drawing attention to them. Arthur took a step back, surprised. “If I have to do this to save your arse,” he said, jabbing a finger at Arthur’s chest, “then I am damn well getting something out of it.”
“All right, all right,” Arthur said, raising his hands in surrender. “Calm down.”
Merlin relented, smoothing down the front of his sweater. “That’s better. Now, ask me nicely.”
Arthur eyed him warily. “Ask you what?”
“To marry you.”
“…you’re joking.”
“No. Go on then, down on one knee.”
Arthur stared at him, but Merlin only crossed his arms and waited, eyebrow arched. He looked around-the plaza was full of people, darting here and there, streaming in and out of the building. “Here?” he asked, a little desperate.
“Right here.”
Arthur cursed under his breath. Reluctantly, he got down onto one knee and peered up at his assistant, who was watching him with a smug smile.
“Willyoumarryme?” he mumbled, feeling his cheeks start to burn. This was humiliating; people were staring. Merlin just touched a finger to his ear.
“Sorry, what was that?”
“Will you marry me?” Arthur repeated, clearer this time.
“Like you mean it.”
“Fine,” Arthur snapped, squaring his shoulders. “Merlin Emrys, will you do me the proud honour of becoming my husband? Pretty please?”
Merlin cocked his head, considering. “That’ll do.” He turned and started walking away from Arthur. “See you tomorrow at the airport,” he threw back over his shoulder and then he disappeared into the crowd, leaving Arthur kneeling on the filthy sidewalk.
Chapter 2