FIC: Serendipitous (Arthur/Merlin, pg-13, 1/2)
Title: Serendipitous
Author/Artist: ayane_tsurugi
Pairing(s)/Character(s): Arthur/Merlin (Arthur/Sophia, Merlin/Will, Gwen/Lancelot), Leon, Morgana, Gaius, various others
Rating: PG-13
Summary: In which there is love at first sight, give or take five minutes, Leon is the world’s best PA, the Slash Dragon is really bad at business meetings, more than one Arthur wears a red scarf, and Fate is a fickle bitch who breaks everything apart, but puts it back together even better in the end. Or, a fic loosely based on the movie Serendipity.
Warnings (if any): Clichés, clichés, clichés. Dubious representations of life in NYC. Language. Bad puns. Playful jabs at the sanity of fiction writers. Political incorrectness.
Total word count: 13,569
Disclaimer: This story/artwork is based on characters and situations created and owned by the BBC and Shine TV. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.
Author's/artist's notes: Written for a prompt by accioscar at merlin_muses, and originally posted here. Massive thanks to kate0404, who beta'd this madness and let me flail at her without threatening me bodily harm. She is clearly a saint. All mistakes are mine, point me at any typos, and feedback is love!
Part One
Three days before Christmas, 2006
Arthur loved Christmas in New York. He wasn’t sure what it was about the month of December that made the city seem almost magical, but he’d loved it ever since his first, when he was nine and his father had just moved them there to start the east coast branch of Penn Inc.
(He’d tried, once, when his father was working late for the third Christmas Eve in a row, to explain the indelible majesty of Manhattan during the holidays. The rant he’d gotten in return about the “damn snow” and “millions of dollars on twinkle lights, for heaven’s sake” had ended with “but at least the two inches of ice over everything might incapacitate some of the more annoying tourists and keep them from coming back,” and really, it was a relief they weren’t in retail.)
All month, he would be in an inexplicable good mood that would spread through his office like wildfire, causing his usually long-suffering but respectful employees to become friendly and downright cheerful. “It’s because you’re less of an asshole during the holidays,” Leon, his PA, liked to inform him. “And because their bonuses are almost always fifty percent higher than they should be.”
(“I’m never an asshole, Leon.”
“Of course not, Sir.”)
His goodwill, however, did not extend to the ten taxi drivers so far who’d passed him up, leaving him to pull his coat more tightly around himself and debate the merits of just walking out into the street. Or to the one who finally pulled over with a blatant roll of his eyes. And it most certainly didn’t extend to the moron who’d just clamored through the other door of his cab.
“What do you think you’re doing?” he asked, scowling as the guy pulled the door shut and grinned at him like trying to steal Arthur’s cab was the best thing he’d done all day.
“Sorry, mate. Been trying to get one to pull over for ten minutes, and I’m freezing my nuts off. Mind if we share?”
Arthur glared at him. “Yeah, actually, I do. I got here first, so the cab’s mine. And I’m not your ‘mate.’”
The guy raised an eyebrow at him, no longer smiling, and said, “No, I suppose you’re not. Remind me to thank someone for that later.” From the front seat, the cabbie tapped impatiently on the dash and stared at them through the rearview mirror. “In the meantime, I’m not leaving, so you can either tell the nice driver where you’re going or get out and try your luck with the next twenty that drive through.”
Arthur gaped, indignation coursing through him, but after a long moment where it became obvious the guy wasn’t going to back down and the cabbie pointedly cleared his throat at them, he sagged back against the seat and rubbed a defeated hand across his face. “Macy’s.”
When he looked over, the guy was smiling again, bright and unguarded. Even if the British accent hadn’t tipped him off, that openness made it obvious he wasn’t a native. “Brilliant, that’s where I’m heading too. We can split the fare.”
“Seriously?” Arthur raised a surprised eyebrow across the back seat. “That’s certainly a coincidence.”
“Don’t really believe in coincidences,” the guy said with a careless shrug.
“Well then, what would you call it, hijacking the cab of someone who just happens to be going the same place you are? Luck?”
“I prefer fate.” He grinned again, this time crooked and somehow endearing. Arthur returned it; the cabbie gave a derisive snort that they both ignored. He extended a hand. “I’m Merlin.”
Arthur stared for a moment then huffed a quiet laugh, reaching out to shake his hand. “You probably won’t believe me, but. Arthur.”
Merlin just grinned wider. “See, I told you. Fate.”
As the cab finally forced its way back into the flow of traffic, Merlin’s gaze drifted toward the window but Arthur’s stayed fixed on him. He wasn’t quite sure what it was, but there was just something about Merlin that made it difficult to look away. He had black hair, just long enough that it curled against the back of his neck and behind his ears. His ears stuck out in a way that could have been unfortunate but was really just cute. And his lips…yeah, it was probably the lips that did it. Or possibly the cheekbones.
“Why Macy’s?” he blurted eventually, when he’d stared so long he was starting to feel awkward. Merlin looked back at him.
“Last minute shopping,” he said with an amused roll of his eyes. “Honestly, I never learn. My mum told me if she gets another present after Boxing Day she’s just going to put it away and open it next year so she can pretend I was on time for once. And of course this year I’ve got to post them, so I’ll be lucky if they get there before New Year’s.” He shook his head and Arthur laughed. “What about you?”
“Same.” Arthur shrugged. “Though I can’t say I have the same problem. My sister lives in my apartment building, and if I don’t have her present ready by the time she barges through my door at nine on Christmas morning, she gets to pick something. Last time that happened I spent four hundred dollars on a handbag. Plus another hundred on the matching wallet.”
Merlin’s eyes widened. “Blimey. Okay, right, never introducing my mum to your sister. She’d have me replace her telly, and then move on to the furniture. I’d have the whole house redone in a few years, especially once she started doing it for her birthday as well.”
“Don’t give my sister any ideas,” he snorted. “The last thing I need is to redecorate a penthouse apartment to her whims.”
Merlin stared at him for a moment, giving him a rather obvious once-over, his mouth quirked up at the corners. “So the suit’s not just for show, then?”
Arthur looked down at himself. He hadn’t had time to go home and change after leaving the office. “Yeah, not so much.” He grinned. “Why? Am I more attractive now?”
Merlin laughed brightly, his blue eyes crinkling at the corners, and it had been a really long time since Arthur had looked at another man this way. Probably since college. “Oh, infinitely.”
They were still grinning at each other when their cab pulled to a stop outside Macy’s. Arthur handed over enough money to cover the fare before Merlin had even pulled his wallet out and got glared at in return.
“I know you American types have no sense of humor, but I didn’t actually mean that I like you for your money. I’m perfectly capable of paying my own way.”
They were standing on the sidewalk outside the store now, people sweeping by all around them. “I have no doubt of that,” Arthur said, “and I wasn’t implying anything. It was my cab anyway, so stop being melodramatic and save your money for all the people you’re going to have to bribe at the post office in the morning.”
Merlin sighed, his breath making a cloud in the air, and rubbed a hand across the back of his neck. “Fine. Thank you, then.” He hesitated, looking at Arthur, almost like he didn’t want to go just yet.
Then again, Arthur could have been projecting.
“It was nice meeting you, Arthur,” he finally said, smiling one last time before he turned away. It seemed almost - sad.
“Yeah, you too.” He watched Merlin disappear through the crowd into the store, took a deep breath, and followed him in.
He was three feet and two “accidental” shoves in when he remembered why he hated this place so much. There were people wall-to-wall, elbowing each other, grabbing things off the shelves and clutching them protectively to their chests; it was ridiculous. Not to mention that, once he’d managed to battle his way into the women’s department, he still had no idea what he was going to get Morgana or Sophia.
His mind stuttered at the sudden reminder. Oh right, Sophia. His girlfriend. Who probably wouldn’t approve of the way he’d been thinking, was still thinking, about the charming, beautiful British man who’d hijacked his cab.
He picked through the sweaters, distracted and suddenly depressed by the qualifying thought that he probably wouldn’t see Merlin again anyway, but eventually gave up. Anyway it was dangerous trying to buy women clothes - he knew this from experience - so he contemplated the jewelry counter for a moment, but another thought struck him. He located the salesperson that looked least inclined to homicide and asked, “Cashmere scarves?”
He followed her directions through some more of the crowd and, just as he spotted the rack, a familiarly lanky form also entered his field of vision, a red cashmere scarf in his hands. Tucked under Merlin’s arm were what looked to be a boxed perfume set and a pair of black Argyle socks. He felt himself grin as he made his way over, unmistakably pleased.
“For your mother?” he asked, once he was close enough, and Merlin’s head snapped up, a matching grin unfolding across his features. He looked relieved, happy almost to see him again, and yeah, Arthur was definitely projecting.
“Oh, er, no,” he said. “The perfume’s for her - she loves the stuff, for some reason. No, the scarf’s for my, uh, my boyfriend. Will.”
Arthur knew his face fell, couldn’t stop it, and looked down to hide it. “Right, of course.” He looked back up with a forced smile. “I was actually thinking about one for my girlfriend. Maybe there’s something to this fate thing of yours after all.” Merlin’s answering smile didn’t look any more real than Arthur’s felt, tense and a little sad, and he swallowed. “Who are the socks for?”
He glanced down at them, face loosening. “They’re for me. I have a thing for socks; I get some for myself every year. My Christmas present to me, since it’s always so difficult to convince people that you want socks.”
This confession startled a laugh out of Arthur and dissipated some of the awkward tension between them. When he’d grabbed two scarves (green for Morgana, blue for Sophia) and decided to get gift cards to wrap up inside, he looked over to see Merlin’s smile had turned genuine again.
They made the trek to the registers together - two are less likely to get trampled than one, after all - and, back outside, hesitated only a couple of seconds before walking on, falling in step together.
It took him nearly a minute to work up the courage to break the silence. “So, have you eaten?”
***
When he realized where Arthur was leading them, Merlin couldn’t help laughing. “Serendipity 3, really?”
They’d both already eaten dinner - him with Gwen and Arthur before he left the office (“Oh bloody hell, you’re a workaholic too. I should have known.” “Shut up, Merlin.”) - so they’d decided on dessert. Arthur grinned. “I was inspired.”
He had no idea what they were doing. Two men, both taken, one ostensibly straight, and yet there was something, Merlin could feel it, pulling them together. It was so much more than physical, even if Arthur was one of the most gorgeous men he’d ever seen. He’d never felt a draw toward another person so sharply.
And he knew they shouldn’t be doing this; the longer he walked next to Arthur, the further his thoughts drifted from home and Will. Sweet, wonderful Will, who he’d known nearly forever and who loved him. But knowing Arthur felt it too, this strange pull? It clouded his vision and his thoughts, until all he wanted was to just keep walking, close enough to feel the heat from Arthur’s arm next to his.
“What are you doing in New York?” Arthur asked, once they’d been seated and their hot chocolate had been set in front of them.
“My best friend from school moved here a while ago,” he said, swirling his straw through the mass of whipped cream floating atop his drink. “Met her American Prince Charming and let him talk her into giving up the English lifestyle.”
Arthur laughed. “So you’re here to find yours now?”
He laughed too and pretended he couldn’t feel his cheeks heating. “Not exactly. She’s getting married soon, on the 6th. I promised her I’d be here for it, so she invited me for Christmas as well.”
“Are you supposed to be in the wedding?”
“Oh yeah,” he smirked. “She tried to talk me into being her Maid of Honor, but the tailor said she just couldn’t get that pink dress to look good on me, so they’ve made me the minister.” Arthur choked around a sip of his drink, and Merlin grinned delightedly. “No, I’m the best man. I’m mates with her fiancé as well; plus, her friend Freya looks a lot better in pink than I do.”
Arthur wiped a tear from his eye, still chuckling, and said, “I don’t know. I’m not sure I’d mind seeing you in a pink bridesmaid’s dress.”
“Then you’re either kinkier or more sadistic than I thought. Either way, kindly keep away from my wardrobe.”
“No promises,” he grinned. He was quiet for a moment, like he was measuring his next words. “You’re in town for another couple of weeks, then?”
Merlin met his eyes, seeing the hope, interest, and that little something else that he knew were mirrored in his own, and nodded. “Yeah, I am.”
Going to Central Park next was Merlin’s idea, but the ice skating was all Arthur.
“Come on, Merlin, it’s not difficult! Just skate to me.” He spun in a graceful circle and Merlin wanted to take off one of his borrowed skates and chuck it at him. “You have to let go of the wall first, you know.”
“Oh, do shut the fuck up,” he said, wobbling dangerously when he tried, again, to release the wall. “You were probably one of those athletic, football player types I always hated, weren’t you?”
“I played soccer, actually,” Arthur said, but he was grinning.
“It’s football, you uneducated cretin, and you’re really just proving my point.”
The arse laughed loudly at that, but when Merlin looked up again, he was much closer, holding out a gloved hand. “Come on, then. I won’t let you fall, I promise.”
And he didn’t. He let Merlin cling to his arm the first couple times around, and when he finally understood that Merlin really wasn’t going to get any better, he wrapped a steadying arm around his waist. If Merlin caught Arthur staring at him, a fond smile on his lips, or Arthur felt Merlin slide their fingers purposefully together against the soft wool of his coat, neither of them mentioned it.
Back on safe ground, Merlin could feel Arthur’s eyes on him as he pulled fruitlessly at the skates’ laces, and their eyes met again. “What?”
“Nothing,” Arthur said, turning his attention back to pulling his real shoes back on. “Just thinking about how I’ve got a crush on someone else’s boyfriend.”
Merlin yanked one of the laces free with a sigh. “Yeah, I think I know the feeling.”
When he’d returned the skates and was gathering up his things, he was struck with an urge. He reached a hand into his Macy’s bag and pulled out the red scarf, then stepped close and wrapped it once around Arthur’s neck.
Merlin watched his Adam’s apple work as he swallowed. “What about your boyfriend?” he asked, and Merlin didn’t know if he meant it in regards to the scarf or this thing growing, unnamed and almost tangible, between them.
So he answered, just as vaguely, “I’ll figure something out.” He smoothed the ends down Arthur’s chest and stepped back. “It looks better on you anyway.”
***
They walked around a while longer, knowing how late it had become but neither of them willing to break the spell.
It was only when they found themselves back in front of Serendipity 3 that Arthur stopped and took a breath. “How can I get in touch with you?”
Merlin started digging through his messenger bag. “My friend got me a pre-paid mobile to carry around while I’m here…bugger, where is it?”
“Do you remember the number?” he asked, pulling out his BlackBerry. Which was…dead. “No, oh fuck no. Are you kidding me?” He cast a hopeful glance at Merlin, who’d stopped his frantic digging, but he was empty-handed. “Nothing?”
Merlin shook his head. “Do you have a business card? You suit-wearing types carry those, don’t you?”
Arthur made to reach for his wallet, but remembered just as he touched it that he’d given out his last one during a lunch meeting that very afternoon. He sighed. “Not with me. Is there something in your bag you can write on?” he asked, desperate now, but Merlin was shaking his head.
“This is a sign,” he said. “It’s got to be. We’re moving too fast. We should,” he swallowed, visibly pained, “back off a bit.”
“What? Merlin, no, it’s not a sign, it’s just bad luck! We don’t have to…what are you doing?” He’d reached into his messenger bag again, and he pulled out an old, slightly battered hardback copy of Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy.
“When I get back tonight,” he said, “I’m going to write my name and the phone number on page forty-two of this book. Tomorrow morning, I’ll sell it to a used bookstore in the city. If you find it and call me before I leave for England on the seventh, then we’re meant to be together now.”
Arthur gaped. This was insane. “And if I don’t? Then is this, whatever this is, a fluke?”
“There’s no such thing as a fluke, Arthur. It’ll happen when it’s supposed to.” He tried to smile, but it didn’t reach his eyes in the slightest. He looked resigned, sad in a way Arthur never wanted him to have to be. He stepped forward into Arthur’s space and pressed a light kiss to the corner of his mouth. “Later, Arthur.”
“Soon,” he swore. “I’ll find it. I will.”
A minute later, Merlin had waved down a cab and was gone. It didn’t occur to him until later that they should have sent something into the world with his name and number on it.
-
The night before Gwen’s wedding, 2007
“All right,” Gwen said, hands on her hips. “You haven’t let that stupid mobile out of your sight for two weeks now. This has something to do with the night you won’t tell me about, and I want to know. So spill it, Emrys.”
She crawled back into the bed beside him and he turned to face her. They’d been lying there all evening, watching movies to distract her from the fact that Lance was gone for the night.
“How did you know that Lance was the one?” he asked in lieu of an explanation, and she raised an eyebrow.
“‘The one’?”
“You know, the Mythical One, the be all end all, the light at the end of the bloody dark tunnel. How did you know it was Lance?”
She shrugged as best she could with one arm trapped beneath her. “I don’t know, I just did. There was something different there, special. Something I hadn’t felt before.”
He groaned loudly, rubbing a hand over his face. “Oh God, I’m so fucking stupid.”
“Merlin, what the hell happened?”
“I had it, Gwen. I had the stupid bloody feeling, I knew what it was, and I left it to chance! I followed the signs instead of just going with it, and now…I don’t even know his last name. I’ll probably never see him again, if he’d even want to, because obviously I’m a complete nutter.”
She pulled him tight to her chest and pressed her face against the top of his head. “Oh, Merlin.”
They stayed like that for a long time, until eventually he sighed and said, “Will loves me.”
She nodded, knowing all too well that it would never be enough anymore. “I know, love.”
***
When Arthur opened the door to Morgana's knock at nine that night, she could tell straight away he hadn’t slept properly in at least a fortnight. There were dark circles beneath his eyes and his hair stuck up at odd angles, like he’d been running his hands through it. Both his pants and button-up shirt were covered in creases and wrinkles, the sleeves rolled up in haphazard bunches.
“What in the world have you been doing? You look terrible.”
“Book shopping,” he replied, waving away her concern. “Did you want to come in?”
She raised a disbelieving eyebrow, but didn’t push it. If he didn’t want to tell her the truth, he wouldn’t. Even in such a tired state, he’d just start snapping at her. “No, thank you. I just wanted to ask if you were still planning on coming to the wedding with me tomorrow. “
He stared at her, uncomprehending, and she sighed. “My friend Gwen, I’m supposed to go to her wedding tomorrow? I asked if you’d like to be my plus one so she might believe you’re not actually my imaginary brother?”
“Oh,” he said, finally nodding his understanding. “Right, I remember now. Um.” He glanced back into the apartment at something she couldn’t see. “I’m sorry, Morgana, I really can’t. I’m working on something very important, and I’ve only got a couple of days left.”
“Something for work?” She leaned in to get a better look, and saw what could have been a map spread across the kitchen table. It was covered in furious red x’s.
“Not exactly.” He rubbed tiredly at his eyes. “How about you set up lunch sometime soon, and I promise I’ll show up. Can’t have her thinking you’re making me up. Just, I can’t do tomorrow.”
She sighed, thinking she might call Leon just so she wouldn’t have to show up alone. Arthur sagged against the doorframe a bit, and she frowned. “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine,” he lied. “Or I will be. Hopefully soon.”
“All right then,” she said, unconvinced. “Get some sleep. I wasn’t lying when I said you looked terrible.”
“Good night, Morgana.”
After he’d closed the door, she made a mental note to tell Leon not to let Arthur work himself to death and went back upstairs.
Part Two
Three years, four months, five days, and six billion used bookstores later, 2010
Leon was already waiting for him when he walked into the office, a cup of black coffee in one hand and a distressingly thick stack of messages in the other. Arthur took the coffee gratefully but didn’t stop until he’d reached his desk and flopped into the comfortable, expensive chair behind it.
“How many of them do I want to hear?”
“That depends. Do you want me to lie to you?”
“Preferably.” He reached over and pressed the power button on his laptop; might as well check his e-mail too. Get the torture over with. He’d just returned from a business breakfast with a client that had taken almost two hours longer than it was supposed to (a political thriller writer who, shockingly, had some issues with paranoia), so he was already behind.
“Then they’re all wonderful. Not an anal retentive fiancée or disgruntled relative in the bunch.”
Arthur let out a laugh that was more groan than anything else and waved a hand. “Fine, read them.”
“Let’s see, Morgana called and asked for the…fifth time why she has to wear the most hideous bridesmaid’s dress known to man. Sophia called three times: once to remind you about dinner with her father tonight, again; once to quintuple check with me about your reservations - yes, by the way, I made them a week ago; and once to say that his plane is landing early and she’s thinking about bringing him by the office to see you-“
He choked. “What?”
“Just kidding, I made the last one up. And finally, your father called, because he wanted to know why you hadn’t checked your e-mail yet.” Leon nodded at the computer. “Apparently there’s something in there about the possibility of finding one person who could double as the IT guy we so desperately need and a graphic designer, because one of them apparently quit yesterday. There’s also an e-mail from me asking if we can change the office phone number.”
“You know changing the phone number wouldn’t help. My father would know it, Morgana would get it from him, and Sophia would just steal your cell phone number out of my BlackBerry while I was in the shower.”
Pulling up his e-mail, he found two messages from his father, another from Morgana about the dress (this time with pictorial evidence - there was green lace involved, and a lot of it), and some fifteen more from clients, employees, and other companies all marked ‘urgent.’ He deleted the two from his wedding planner without reading them.
“Should I bring more coffee?”
“Just bring the whole damn pot in here, Leon.”
It was going to be a long day.
***
It was perfect. Everything Will had done was absolutely perfect. The Monday afternoon picnic in Hyde Park, all of Merlin’s favorite foods, the walk around the lake they always used to make when they were kids…it was everything great and romantic he ever could have imagined.
And yet, as Will got down on one knee in front of him, all he wanted to do was haul him back to his feet and demand that he think about this, really think, before he asked.
“Merlin,” he said, holding up a band of simple white gold between them, “I love you so much. You’ve known me since I was young and as horrible as I could possibly be, and you’ve stayed with me though everything. We’re perfect together. Will you marry me?”
“Oh, Christ,” he breathed. Thoughts and responses swirled all around his head: ‘what?’ and ‘wow;’ pros, cons, doubts, and what-ifs; ‘yes’ and, scariest of all, ‘no thank you.’ So instead of answering, unsure just what would come out if he opened his mouth, he leaned down and caught Will’s face between his hands. He tried to put everything good about their relationship into the kiss he pressed against his lips - the love and the history, the friendship - and from the relieved sigh Will puffed against his lips when they’d pulled apart, he understood.
He guided one of Merlin’s hands from his cheek to the space between them and slid the ring onto his finger, gliding it past the first knuckle and against the second, where it stopped and refused to continue.
Will glared at it. “Bugger. I was sure I’d gotten the right size.” He stood, sighing, and Merlin curled his hand. He brought the ring closer, staring intently at it, and ran his thumb across the shining surface. He’d stopped watching for signs a long time ago, after New York had left him devastated with no one to blame but himself, but this was one. He knew it.
He just didn’t know whether to listen to it.
Like he was reading his mind, Will reached over and cupped his cheek. “It doesn’t mean anything. I promise. You can take it to get resized tomorrow; it’ll be fine.”
And so Merlin smiled as brightly as he could and pulled Will - his fiancé - into a tight hug. “I know.”
***
“Will proposed,” he said as soon as Gwen picked up the phone.
“Today?”
“Yeah. At Hyde park. He made me a picnic.” Merlin stared at the ring, now sitting in the palm of his hand. He hadn’t looked away from it for longer than a few minutes since he and Will had separated that afternoon.
“What did you say?”
“I said yes, I think.”
“You think.”
“Well, I didn’t really say much of anything. But I’ve got the ring.”
She was quiet for a long moment, and he thought he heard a door closing. She’d always liked having private phone conversations in her bathroom; the reminder made him smile. “You’re not sure,” she said. It wasn’t a question.
“I don’t know what I am.”
“Then wait for a sign.”
“Gwen- ”
“No, Merlin, I’m serious. Just because Fate’s a fickle bitch who kept you away from your mysterious Arthur three years ago doesn’t mean you should ignore what your gut’s telling you now.”
He swallowed and drew in a long breath. “The ring didn’t fit. I’m supposed to get it fixed tomorrow.”
She hummed in sympathy. “Is that enough?”
“I told myself no. But maybe? I don’t know, Gwen. What am I supposed to do?”
“I can’t decide for you. You have to figure it out for yourself. But Merlin?”
“Yeah.”
“Don’t settle.”
***
Dinner with Sophia’s father went about as well as Arthur figured it would - throughout the night, he’d been stared at appraisingly, blanket disapproval of any man and pride that his daughter had landed the wealthy son of a Publishing mogul warring on the man’s face.
They were getting married in five days. And after four years together, it was probably about time, not that he’d been rushing into it. He probably wouldn’t have even proposed if she hadn’t obviously wanted him to - why mess with what worked?
Morgana didn’t approve, of course. His father didn’t understand the appeal, but took the news well enough. Leon threatened to throw himself off a bridge.
But he was happy enough. They could stand each other for long periods of time, she cooked well, the sex was good. She understood his need to keep his own apartment for as long as he could, and he understood her addiction to online shopping. Neither of them made a big deal of the fact that they were spending most of the week before their wedding apart, her entertaining her father and working through the last details with their wedding planner and him tying up loose ends at work so that a week-long honeymoon wouldn’t leave him irreparably behind.
And they loved each other in their own way. Marriage wouldn’t change any of that.
On the walk back to his apartment, he spotted a bookstore he hadn’t been to in a while and ducked inside, heading straight for the section marked Sci-Fi/Fantasy. There were three hardback copies of Hitchhiker’s Guide on the shelves, and he flipped each one open to page forty-two before snapping them shut and replacing them.
With a sigh and a brief nod at the clerk behind the cash register, he walked back outside and made his way home.
***
When Merlin got back to his uncle’s shop that night, Gaius was still there, tinkering with a computer that had been giving him trouble. He wasn’t quite sure what was wrong with it, and it was driving him a bit batty.
“Still no diagnosis?” He flopped gracelessly onto one of the empty chairs.
“Not as such,” Gaius said, frowning at the machine. “Do you suppose you could take a look at it tomorrow? I know you’ve got the day off, but I’ll go mad if I have to stare at it anymore.”
Merlin gave him a tired smile. “Sure, Gaius.”
His uncle moved away from the worktable, looking at him with raised eyebrows. “Are you all right, my boy? You seem rather down tonight.”
“I’m fine.” He was lying and he knew it. Gaius could tell too; he stared another moment, looking a bit sad.
“London hasn’t been good for you, has it, Merlin?”
“You know as well as I do that I can’t go back, Gaius.” He’d picked up and moved to London just a couple months after Gwen’s wedding. When Will followed him without complaint, he told himself that it was the only sign he’d ever need that everything was as it should be. “As much as I miss my mum, going back home isn’t the answer. I’m figuring it out.”
Gaius pursed his lips, like that wasn’t quite what he meant, but nodded. “I hope so. “
After another moment, he wished his uncle good night and went upstairs, into the small flat he called home. He pulled off his clothes and climbed into bed, hoping that sleep would come quickly. Instead, he was awake for several hours more, staring at the ceiling and wishing the world made sense.
-
The next day (Four days before the wedding), 2010
Arthur’s father called him in the next morning to discuss Important Matters of Business which, he knew, was almost never good news for him.
This morning was no exception.
Uther pushed a thick manila folder across his desk. “You have a new client.”
Arthur picked it up, the label on the tab catching his attention immediately. “John Drake? I thought he was non-fiction. You usually handle the non-fiction clients.”
“I do,” he nodded, “because the science and history writers are statistically less insane than fiction writers. That does not, however, apply to Mr. Drake, who is writing a book on the Arthurian legends and who insisted he work with you the moment he learned your name. I trust that won’t be a problem?”
“Of course not,” he said, and slid the file into his bag. Plenty of dubiously sane clients already had access to him day and night, what was one more? “Was there anything else?”
“Yes,” Uther said, sliding another sheet of paper across the desk to him. “I’m putting you in charge of the interviews for the computer specialist position. I’ve had my PA set up times with each of them tomorrow and Thursday.”
He scanned the list, brow furrowing when he reached the bottom. “Who’s this last one? I don’t think I’ve seen a résumé for an M. Emrys.”
“I got an e-mail this morning from an old colleague of mine looking for a possible position for his nephew. I’ve been informed he’s the best, and coming from Gaius, that’s saying quite a lot.”
Arthur hummed his assent. “Why don’t you just hire Emrys, then? If you believe he’s the best.”
Uther smiled wryly. “Gaius hasn’t quite convinced him to come, as I take it. I’ve offered first class air fare from Heathrow and a guaranteed work visa to sweeten the deal, of course. If Gaius pulls it off, he should be here for an interview on Friday morning.”
“He’s an import?” Arthur asked, surprised.
“He’s the best.”
***
First thing that morning, Merlin followed the directions Will had given him to the jewelry shop where he’d bought the rings.
It was small, with a simplistic sign over the door proclaiming work that was ‘hand-crafted since 1878.’ There was one man working inside behind a glass display counter with dozens of rings for show; there were simple ones, like his band, and he could see others with intricate, flawless diamond work.
The man was older, with graying hair and strong hands, and he was wearing coveralls with a white shirt underneath and a red scarf around his neck. He turned around a moment after Merlin walked in, and a small sewn-on patch came into view, proclaiming him ‘Arthur.’
Merlin nearly dropped the ring.
“What can I do for you, my lad?”
“I-“ he said, but his voice died in his throat.
Arthur.
Arthur in a red scarf.
Gwen had told him to look for the signs. What if this was it? What if this meant that marrying Will was a mistake?
He let out a shaky breath, stuttered a “Sorry” to the shopkeeper, and left. He needed to take a walk.
***
Arthur met Sophia back at his apartment for lunch because she wanted to start packing for the Honeymoon.
“You know you’re awful at these kinds of things,” she’d said. “It’ll just be easier to let me do it.”
Which, to him, meant he got to lay on the bed, digging through some of his work files, while she pulled things he hadn’t seen in years out of the back of his closet.
“Good Lord, Arthur,” she said at one point, tossing another old jacket into a heap on the floor, “why do you even have some of this crap?”
He didn’t answer, but then she wasn’t really expecting him to. He only looked up when she let out a loud, “Oh!” and tossed something onto the bed. “Why don’t you wear this more often? It would look gorgeous on you. Didn’t you get me one of these?”
He froze at the long strip of red cashmere suddenly spread across his papers, a memory of the long pale hands that had wrapped it around his neck so long ago rising from the depths of his mind. He ran his fingers along the soft fabric, his breath catching in the back of his throat. “Yeah, I did,” he said, hoping his voice didn’t waver. “I guess I just forgot I had it.”
If it did, Sophia didn’t notice, because she just clucked disappointedly and went back to her digging.
***
Back at the office, staring at Leon across his desk, Arthur said, “I’m making a big mistake, aren’t I?”
Leon didn’t look up from his planner. “Which one?”
“Sophia. It’s a mistake, isn’t it?”
Leon sighed, set his pen down, and rubbed a hand over his face. “Are you serious? Because if it was my opinion you wanted, you would have listened to me four years ago when she figured out the office phone number and I threatened to brain myself with the receiver.”
“You think it’s a mistake.”
“Arthur. For fuck’s sake, you’re getting married in four days. This is not the time! Is this just some cold feet thing? Do I need to call Morgana to come shake you?”
“But what if I’m supposed to be waiting! What if I have a soul mate and I’m about to walk down the aisle and take myself permanently off the market?” He ran nervous hands through his hair and looked up just in time to see comprehension dawn in his PA’s eyes.
“Oh God. This is about the cab hijacker again, isn’t it?”
Arthur smiled wryly. “Merlin.”
“It is. Arthur, we went over this three years ago. Your ‘soul mate’ lives on another continent. You don’t know his last name. Last I checked, you couldn’t even say what part of England he lived in. Unless you have some new contact willing to scour Great Britain for every Merlin under age 30, we’re exactly where we were then.”
“Sophia found the scarf today,” he said, undeterred.
“The scarf,” Leon said blankly. “The red one, that was supposed to be for his boyfriend?”
“Yes! She just threw it to me and told me that I should wear it more often. I mean, Merlin believed in all that ‘signs’ crap, maybe that was a sign!”
Leon looked distinctly unimpressed. “A sign that you should clean out your closet more often? Definitely.”
“A sign that I’m not supposed to give up yet. That I’m supposed to try one more time.”
He shook his head. “You are out of your damn mind, you know that? I’ve been telling you for a long time, but this time I think you’re having an actual certifiable episode.”
“Does this mean you’ll help me?” He grinned in that certain childlike way that he knew would make Leon roll his eyes and say ‘fine, whatever,’ because they’d been together too long for him not to know these things.
“Will you give me a raise?”
“No.”
“Okay, fine. Whatever.”
***
“Gwen…”
“Merlin?”
He sniffed.
“Oh sweet bloody fuck, you’ve been crying.” This time he definitely heard a door close. “What happened?”
“I gave the ring back. I couldn’t…I was leading him on. And God, he was just so heartbroken. Gwen, I broke his heart. I-“ He let out a sob, resting his forehead against the steering column. He was still in the car park outside Will’s flat; he couldn’t drive, not yet.
“Love, what happened?”
“I took the ring to the jeweler this morning, and there was just this one old bloke in a scarf and some coveralls working. And when he turned around I saw his name. Gwen, it was Arthur. The jeweler who made my engagement ring too small was named Arthur and he was wearing a red bloody scarf.”
Gwen let out a long breath into the receiver. “Oh, Merlin.”
“So I took a walk, tried to find some way to ignore it, but I just. I couldn’t. Because that’s not a sign. That’s a giant advert made of flashing lights and arrows around it. And now, God, now I just feel so guilty.” He swallowed thickly.
“You did the right thing, Merlin. You know you did. There’s no way you could have kept going without being haunted by all the what-ifs and you told him the truth as soon as you knew it. You made it right as best you could; better than a whole lot of other people would have.”
He sobbed again, but quieter this time. Calmer. “If I’d just told him three years ago, I might not have hurt him so badly.”
“Hush, love. Don’t torture yourself.” She made calming noises into the phone, and an image of her as a mother rose unbidden in his mind. It calmed him enough to wipe the wetness from his eyes. “What are you going to do now?”
He huffed a sad laugh. “I wish I knew.”
***
When he got back to the shop late that afternoon, it was clear that Gaius was waiting for him. As soon as Merlin walked in, he was pointed to an empty chair. Deep lines of concern were etched across his uncle’s face. “Sit down, boy. We need to talk.”
He slumped down into the chair and rubbed a hand over his eyes. He felt better after talking to Gwen, but not enough so that he hoped he looked as well as he felt.
“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you as depressed as you’ve been these past couple days.” Merlin opened his mouth, but Gaius held up a hand. “So I think it’s time you had something new in your life.”
“Something new?” he asked, or started to, but Gaius produced a printed out plane ticket before he could finish.
“I know you’ve always been content working here, for me, but you should be doing something more with your talents. So I e-mailed an old colleague of mine who started a publishing company a few years back and asked if he had any need of a computer wizard.” Merlin was stunned. He let his head fall back and he laughed, loudly, up at the ceiling. How did Gaius always know exactly what he needed? “There’s an interview, but considering that he’s paid for the plane ticket and already started the papers for your work visa, I’m willing to bet the job’s yours if you want it.”
He smiled at his uncle, bright and real for the first time in days. “I can’t believe you got me a job that requires a plane ticket.”
“Well, my boy, that’s the thing,” he said. “It’s in New York City.”
Merlin was still laughing, loud and delighted, when he slid off the chair and into the floor.
Part II
Author/Artist: ayane_tsurugi
Pairing(s)/Character(s): Arthur/Merlin (Arthur/Sophia, Merlin/Will, Gwen/Lancelot), Leon, Morgana, Gaius, various others
Rating: PG-13
Summary: In which there is love at first sight, give or take five minutes, Leon is the world’s best PA, the Slash Dragon is really bad at business meetings, more than one Arthur wears a red scarf, and Fate is a fickle bitch who breaks everything apart, but puts it back together even better in the end. Or, a fic loosely based on the movie Serendipity.
Warnings (if any): Clichés, clichés, clichés. Dubious representations of life in NYC. Language. Bad puns. Playful jabs at the sanity of fiction writers. Political incorrectness.
Total word count: 13,569
Disclaimer: This story/artwork is based on characters and situations created and owned by the BBC and Shine TV. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.
Author's/artist's notes: Written for a prompt by accioscar at merlin_muses, and originally posted here. Massive thanks to kate0404, who beta'd this madness and let me flail at her without threatening me bodily harm. She is clearly a saint. All mistakes are mine, point me at any typos, and feedback is love!
Part One
Three days before Christmas, 2006
Arthur loved Christmas in New York. He wasn’t sure what it was about the month of December that made the city seem almost magical, but he’d loved it ever since his first, when he was nine and his father had just moved them there to start the east coast branch of Penn Inc.
(He’d tried, once, when his father was working late for the third Christmas Eve in a row, to explain the indelible majesty of Manhattan during the holidays. The rant he’d gotten in return about the “damn snow” and “millions of dollars on twinkle lights, for heaven’s sake” had ended with “but at least the two inches of ice over everything might incapacitate some of the more annoying tourists and keep them from coming back,” and really, it was a relief they weren’t in retail.)
All month, he would be in an inexplicable good mood that would spread through his office like wildfire, causing his usually long-suffering but respectful employees to become friendly and downright cheerful. “It’s because you’re less of an asshole during the holidays,” Leon, his PA, liked to inform him. “And because their bonuses are almost always fifty percent higher than they should be.”
(“I’m never an asshole, Leon.”
“Of course not, Sir.”)
His goodwill, however, did not extend to the ten taxi drivers so far who’d passed him up, leaving him to pull his coat more tightly around himself and debate the merits of just walking out into the street. Or to the one who finally pulled over with a blatant roll of his eyes. And it most certainly didn’t extend to the moron who’d just clamored through the other door of his cab.
“What do you think you’re doing?” he asked, scowling as the guy pulled the door shut and grinned at him like trying to steal Arthur’s cab was the best thing he’d done all day.
“Sorry, mate. Been trying to get one to pull over for ten minutes, and I’m freezing my nuts off. Mind if we share?”
Arthur glared at him. “Yeah, actually, I do. I got here first, so the cab’s mine. And I’m not your ‘mate.’”
The guy raised an eyebrow at him, no longer smiling, and said, “No, I suppose you’re not. Remind me to thank someone for that later.” From the front seat, the cabbie tapped impatiently on the dash and stared at them through the rearview mirror. “In the meantime, I’m not leaving, so you can either tell the nice driver where you’re going or get out and try your luck with the next twenty that drive through.”
Arthur gaped, indignation coursing through him, but after a long moment where it became obvious the guy wasn’t going to back down and the cabbie pointedly cleared his throat at them, he sagged back against the seat and rubbed a defeated hand across his face. “Macy’s.”
When he looked over, the guy was smiling again, bright and unguarded. Even if the British accent hadn’t tipped him off, that openness made it obvious he wasn’t a native. “Brilliant, that’s where I’m heading too. We can split the fare.”
“Seriously?” Arthur raised a surprised eyebrow across the back seat. “That’s certainly a coincidence.”
“Don’t really believe in coincidences,” the guy said with a careless shrug.
“Well then, what would you call it, hijacking the cab of someone who just happens to be going the same place you are? Luck?”
“I prefer fate.” He grinned again, this time crooked and somehow endearing. Arthur returned it; the cabbie gave a derisive snort that they both ignored. He extended a hand. “I’m Merlin.”
Arthur stared for a moment then huffed a quiet laugh, reaching out to shake his hand. “You probably won’t believe me, but. Arthur.”
Merlin just grinned wider. “See, I told you. Fate.”
As the cab finally forced its way back into the flow of traffic, Merlin’s gaze drifted toward the window but Arthur’s stayed fixed on him. He wasn’t quite sure what it was, but there was just something about Merlin that made it difficult to look away. He had black hair, just long enough that it curled against the back of his neck and behind his ears. His ears stuck out in a way that could have been unfortunate but was really just cute. And his lips…yeah, it was probably the lips that did it. Or possibly the cheekbones.
“Why Macy’s?” he blurted eventually, when he’d stared so long he was starting to feel awkward. Merlin looked back at him.
“Last minute shopping,” he said with an amused roll of his eyes. “Honestly, I never learn. My mum told me if she gets another present after Boxing Day she’s just going to put it away and open it next year so she can pretend I was on time for once. And of course this year I’ve got to post them, so I’ll be lucky if they get there before New Year’s.” He shook his head and Arthur laughed. “What about you?”
“Same.” Arthur shrugged. “Though I can’t say I have the same problem. My sister lives in my apartment building, and if I don’t have her present ready by the time she barges through my door at nine on Christmas morning, she gets to pick something. Last time that happened I spent four hundred dollars on a handbag. Plus another hundred on the matching wallet.”
Merlin’s eyes widened. “Blimey. Okay, right, never introducing my mum to your sister. She’d have me replace her telly, and then move on to the furniture. I’d have the whole house redone in a few years, especially once she started doing it for her birthday as well.”
“Don’t give my sister any ideas,” he snorted. “The last thing I need is to redecorate a penthouse apartment to her whims.”
Merlin stared at him for a moment, giving him a rather obvious once-over, his mouth quirked up at the corners. “So the suit’s not just for show, then?”
Arthur looked down at himself. He hadn’t had time to go home and change after leaving the office. “Yeah, not so much.” He grinned. “Why? Am I more attractive now?”
Merlin laughed brightly, his blue eyes crinkling at the corners, and it had been a really long time since Arthur had looked at another man this way. Probably since college. “Oh, infinitely.”
They were still grinning at each other when their cab pulled to a stop outside Macy’s. Arthur handed over enough money to cover the fare before Merlin had even pulled his wallet out and got glared at in return.
“I know you American types have no sense of humor, but I didn’t actually mean that I like you for your money. I’m perfectly capable of paying my own way.”
They were standing on the sidewalk outside the store now, people sweeping by all around them. “I have no doubt of that,” Arthur said, “and I wasn’t implying anything. It was my cab anyway, so stop being melodramatic and save your money for all the people you’re going to have to bribe at the post office in the morning.”
Merlin sighed, his breath making a cloud in the air, and rubbed a hand across the back of his neck. “Fine. Thank you, then.” He hesitated, looking at Arthur, almost like he didn’t want to go just yet.
Then again, Arthur could have been projecting.
“It was nice meeting you, Arthur,” he finally said, smiling one last time before he turned away. It seemed almost - sad.
“Yeah, you too.” He watched Merlin disappear through the crowd into the store, took a deep breath, and followed him in.
He was three feet and two “accidental” shoves in when he remembered why he hated this place so much. There were people wall-to-wall, elbowing each other, grabbing things off the shelves and clutching them protectively to their chests; it was ridiculous. Not to mention that, once he’d managed to battle his way into the women’s department, he still had no idea what he was going to get Morgana or Sophia.
His mind stuttered at the sudden reminder. Oh right, Sophia. His girlfriend. Who probably wouldn’t approve of the way he’d been thinking, was still thinking, about the charming, beautiful British man who’d hijacked his cab.
He picked through the sweaters, distracted and suddenly depressed by the qualifying thought that he probably wouldn’t see Merlin again anyway, but eventually gave up. Anyway it was dangerous trying to buy women clothes - he knew this from experience - so he contemplated the jewelry counter for a moment, but another thought struck him. He located the salesperson that looked least inclined to homicide and asked, “Cashmere scarves?”
He followed her directions through some more of the crowd and, just as he spotted the rack, a familiarly lanky form also entered his field of vision, a red cashmere scarf in his hands. Tucked under Merlin’s arm were what looked to be a boxed perfume set and a pair of black Argyle socks. He felt himself grin as he made his way over, unmistakably pleased.
“For your mother?” he asked, once he was close enough, and Merlin’s head snapped up, a matching grin unfolding across his features. He looked relieved, happy almost to see him again, and yeah, Arthur was definitely projecting.
“Oh, er, no,” he said. “The perfume’s for her - she loves the stuff, for some reason. No, the scarf’s for my, uh, my boyfriend. Will.”
Arthur knew his face fell, couldn’t stop it, and looked down to hide it. “Right, of course.” He looked back up with a forced smile. “I was actually thinking about one for my girlfriend. Maybe there’s something to this fate thing of yours after all.” Merlin’s answering smile didn’t look any more real than Arthur’s felt, tense and a little sad, and he swallowed. “Who are the socks for?”
He glanced down at them, face loosening. “They’re for me. I have a thing for socks; I get some for myself every year. My Christmas present to me, since it’s always so difficult to convince people that you want socks.”
This confession startled a laugh out of Arthur and dissipated some of the awkward tension between them. When he’d grabbed two scarves (green for Morgana, blue for Sophia) and decided to get gift cards to wrap up inside, he looked over to see Merlin’s smile had turned genuine again.
They made the trek to the registers together - two are less likely to get trampled than one, after all - and, back outside, hesitated only a couple of seconds before walking on, falling in step together.
It took him nearly a minute to work up the courage to break the silence. “So, have you eaten?”
***
When he realized where Arthur was leading them, Merlin couldn’t help laughing. “Serendipity 3, really?”
They’d both already eaten dinner - him with Gwen and Arthur before he left the office (“Oh bloody hell, you’re a workaholic too. I should have known.” “Shut up, Merlin.”) - so they’d decided on dessert. Arthur grinned. “I was inspired.”
He had no idea what they were doing. Two men, both taken, one ostensibly straight, and yet there was something, Merlin could feel it, pulling them together. It was so much more than physical, even if Arthur was one of the most gorgeous men he’d ever seen. He’d never felt a draw toward another person so sharply.
And he knew they shouldn’t be doing this; the longer he walked next to Arthur, the further his thoughts drifted from home and Will. Sweet, wonderful Will, who he’d known nearly forever and who loved him. But knowing Arthur felt it too, this strange pull? It clouded his vision and his thoughts, until all he wanted was to just keep walking, close enough to feel the heat from Arthur’s arm next to his.
“What are you doing in New York?” Arthur asked, once they’d been seated and their hot chocolate had been set in front of them.
“My best friend from school moved here a while ago,” he said, swirling his straw through the mass of whipped cream floating atop his drink. “Met her American Prince Charming and let him talk her into giving up the English lifestyle.”
Arthur laughed. “So you’re here to find yours now?”
He laughed too and pretended he couldn’t feel his cheeks heating. “Not exactly. She’s getting married soon, on the 6th. I promised her I’d be here for it, so she invited me for Christmas as well.”
“Are you supposed to be in the wedding?”
“Oh yeah,” he smirked. “She tried to talk me into being her Maid of Honor, but the tailor said she just couldn’t get that pink dress to look good on me, so they’ve made me the minister.” Arthur choked around a sip of his drink, and Merlin grinned delightedly. “No, I’m the best man. I’m mates with her fiancé as well; plus, her friend Freya looks a lot better in pink than I do.”
Arthur wiped a tear from his eye, still chuckling, and said, “I don’t know. I’m not sure I’d mind seeing you in a pink bridesmaid’s dress.”
“Then you’re either kinkier or more sadistic than I thought. Either way, kindly keep away from my wardrobe.”
“No promises,” he grinned. He was quiet for a moment, like he was measuring his next words. “You’re in town for another couple of weeks, then?”
Merlin met his eyes, seeing the hope, interest, and that little something else that he knew were mirrored in his own, and nodded. “Yeah, I am.”
Going to Central Park next was Merlin’s idea, but the ice skating was all Arthur.
“Come on, Merlin, it’s not difficult! Just skate to me.” He spun in a graceful circle and Merlin wanted to take off one of his borrowed skates and chuck it at him. “You have to let go of the wall first, you know.”
“Oh, do shut the fuck up,” he said, wobbling dangerously when he tried, again, to release the wall. “You were probably one of those athletic, football player types I always hated, weren’t you?”
“I played soccer, actually,” Arthur said, but he was grinning.
“It’s football, you uneducated cretin, and you’re really just proving my point.”
The arse laughed loudly at that, but when Merlin looked up again, he was much closer, holding out a gloved hand. “Come on, then. I won’t let you fall, I promise.”
And he didn’t. He let Merlin cling to his arm the first couple times around, and when he finally understood that Merlin really wasn’t going to get any better, he wrapped a steadying arm around his waist. If Merlin caught Arthur staring at him, a fond smile on his lips, or Arthur felt Merlin slide their fingers purposefully together against the soft wool of his coat, neither of them mentioned it.
Back on safe ground, Merlin could feel Arthur’s eyes on him as he pulled fruitlessly at the skates’ laces, and their eyes met again. “What?”
“Nothing,” Arthur said, turning his attention back to pulling his real shoes back on. “Just thinking about how I’ve got a crush on someone else’s boyfriend.”
Merlin yanked one of the laces free with a sigh. “Yeah, I think I know the feeling.”
When he’d returned the skates and was gathering up his things, he was struck with an urge. He reached a hand into his Macy’s bag and pulled out the red scarf, then stepped close and wrapped it once around Arthur’s neck.
Merlin watched his Adam’s apple work as he swallowed. “What about your boyfriend?” he asked, and Merlin didn’t know if he meant it in regards to the scarf or this thing growing, unnamed and almost tangible, between them.
So he answered, just as vaguely, “I’ll figure something out.” He smoothed the ends down Arthur’s chest and stepped back. “It looks better on you anyway.”
***
They walked around a while longer, knowing how late it had become but neither of them willing to break the spell.
It was only when they found themselves back in front of Serendipity 3 that Arthur stopped and took a breath. “How can I get in touch with you?”
Merlin started digging through his messenger bag. “My friend got me a pre-paid mobile to carry around while I’m here…bugger, where is it?”
“Do you remember the number?” he asked, pulling out his BlackBerry. Which was…dead. “No, oh fuck no. Are you kidding me?” He cast a hopeful glance at Merlin, who’d stopped his frantic digging, but he was empty-handed. “Nothing?”
Merlin shook his head. “Do you have a business card? You suit-wearing types carry those, don’t you?”
Arthur made to reach for his wallet, but remembered just as he touched it that he’d given out his last one during a lunch meeting that very afternoon. He sighed. “Not with me. Is there something in your bag you can write on?” he asked, desperate now, but Merlin was shaking his head.
“This is a sign,” he said. “It’s got to be. We’re moving too fast. We should,” he swallowed, visibly pained, “back off a bit.”
“What? Merlin, no, it’s not a sign, it’s just bad luck! We don’t have to…what are you doing?” He’d reached into his messenger bag again, and he pulled out an old, slightly battered hardback copy of Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy.
“When I get back tonight,” he said, “I’m going to write my name and the phone number on page forty-two of this book. Tomorrow morning, I’ll sell it to a used bookstore in the city. If you find it and call me before I leave for England on the seventh, then we’re meant to be together now.”
Arthur gaped. This was insane. “And if I don’t? Then is this, whatever this is, a fluke?”
“There’s no such thing as a fluke, Arthur. It’ll happen when it’s supposed to.” He tried to smile, but it didn’t reach his eyes in the slightest. He looked resigned, sad in a way Arthur never wanted him to have to be. He stepped forward into Arthur’s space and pressed a light kiss to the corner of his mouth. “Later, Arthur.”
“Soon,” he swore. “I’ll find it. I will.”
A minute later, Merlin had waved down a cab and was gone. It didn’t occur to him until later that they should have sent something into the world with his name and number on it.
-
The night before Gwen’s wedding, 2007
“All right,” Gwen said, hands on her hips. “You haven’t let that stupid mobile out of your sight for two weeks now. This has something to do with the night you won’t tell me about, and I want to know. So spill it, Emrys.”
She crawled back into the bed beside him and he turned to face her. They’d been lying there all evening, watching movies to distract her from the fact that Lance was gone for the night.
“How did you know that Lance was the one?” he asked in lieu of an explanation, and she raised an eyebrow.
“‘The one’?”
“You know, the Mythical One, the be all end all, the light at the end of the bloody dark tunnel. How did you know it was Lance?”
She shrugged as best she could with one arm trapped beneath her. “I don’t know, I just did. There was something different there, special. Something I hadn’t felt before.”
He groaned loudly, rubbing a hand over his face. “Oh God, I’m so fucking stupid.”
“Merlin, what the hell happened?”
“I had it, Gwen. I had the stupid bloody feeling, I knew what it was, and I left it to chance! I followed the signs instead of just going with it, and now…I don’t even know his last name. I’ll probably never see him again, if he’d even want to, because obviously I’m a complete nutter.”
She pulled him tight to her chest and pressed her face against the top of his head. “Oh, Merlin.”
They stayed like that for a long time, until eventually he sighed and said, “Will loves me.”
She nodded, knowing all too well that it would never be enough anymore. “I know, love.”
***
When Arthur opened the door to Morgana's knock at nine that night, she could tell straight away he hadn’t slept properly in at least a fortnight. There were dark circles beneath his eyes and his hair stuck up at odd angles, like he’d been running his hands through it. Both his pants and button-up shirt were covered in creases and wrinkles, the sleeves rolled up in haphazard bunches.
“What in the world have you been doing? You look terrible.”
“Book shopping,” he replied, waving away her concern. “Did you want to come in?”
She raised a disbelieving eyebrow, but didn’t push it. If he didn’t want to tell her the truth, he wouldn’t. Even in such a tired state, he’d just start snapping at her. “No, thank you. I just wanted to ask if you were still planning on coming to the wedding with me tomorrow. “
He stared at her, uncomprehending, and she sighed. “My friend Gwen, I’m supposed to go to her wedding tomorrow? I asked if you’d like to be my plus one so she might believe you’re not actually my imaginary brother?”
“Oh,” he said, finally nodding his understanding. “Right, I remember now. Um.” He glanced back into the apartment at something she couldn’t see. “I’m sorry, Morgana, I really can’t. I’m working on something very important, and I’ve only got a couple of days left.”
“Something for work?” She leaned in to get a better look, and saw what could have been a map spread across the kitchen table. It was covered in furious red x’s.
“Not exactly.” He rubbed tiredly at his eyes. “How about you set up lunch sometime soon, and I promise I’ll show up. Can’t have her thinking you’re making me up. Just, I can’t do tomorrow.”
She sighed, thinking she might call Leon just so she wouldn’t have to show up alone. Arthur sagged against the doorframe a bit, and she frowned. “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine,” he lied. “Or I will be. Hopefully soon.”
“All right then,” she said, unconvinced. “Get some sleep. I wasn’t lying when I said you looked terrible.”
“Good night, Morgana.”
After he’d closed the door, she made a mental note to tell Leon not to let Arthur work himself to death and went back upstairs.
Part Two
Three years, four months, five days, and six billion used bookstores later, 2010
Leon was already waiting for him when he walked into the office, a cup of black coffee in one hand and a distressingly thick stack of messages in the other. Arthur took the coffee gratefully but didn’t stop until he’d reached his desk and flopped into the comfortable, expensive chair behind it.
“How many of them do I want to hear?”
“That depends. Do you want me to lie to you?”
“Preferably.” He reached over and pressed the power button on his laptop; might as well check his e-mail too. Get the torture over with. He’d just returned from a business breakfast with a client that had taken almost two hours longer than it was supposed to (a political thriller writer who, shockingly, had some issues with paranoia), so he was already behind.
“Then they’re all wonderful. Not an anal retentive fiancée or disgruntled relative in the bunch.”
Arthur let out a laugh that was more groan than anything else and waved a hand. “Fine, read them.”
“Let’s see, Morgana called and asked for the…fifth time why she has to wear the most hideous bridesmaid’s dress known to man. Sophia called three times: once to remind you about dinner with her father tonight, again; once to quintuple check with me about your reservations - yes, by the way, I made them a week ago; and once to say that his plane is landing early and she’s thinking about bringing him by the office to see you-“
He choked. “What?”
“Just kidding, I made the last one up. And finally, your father called, because he wanted to know why you hadn’t checked your e-mail yet.” Leon nodded at the computer. “Apparently there’s something in there about the possibility of finding one person who could double as the IT guy we so desperately need and a graphic designer, because one of them apparently quit yesterday. There’s also an e-mail from me asking if we can change the office phone number.”
“You know changing the phone number wouldn’t help. My father would know it, Morgana would get it from him, and Sophia would just steal your cell phone number out of my BlackBerry while I was in the shower.”
Pulling up his e-mail, he found two messages from his father, another from Morgana about the dress (this time with pictorial evidence - there was green lace involved, and a lot of it), and some fifteen more from clients, employees, and other companies all marked ‘urgent.’ He deleted the two from his wedding planner without reading them.
“Should I bring more coffee?”
“Just bring the whole damn pot in here, Leon.”
It was going to be a long day.
***
It was perfect. Everything Will had done was absolutely perfect. The Monday afternoon picnic in Hyde Park, all of Merlin’s favorite foods, the walk around the lake they always used to make when they were kids…it was everything great and romantic he ever could have imagined.
And yet, as Will got down on one knee in front of him, all he wanted to do was haul him back to his feet and demand that he think about this, really think, before he asked.
“Merlin,” he said, holding up a band of simple white gold between them, “I love you so much. You’ve known me since I was young and as horrible as I could possibly be, and you’ve stayed with me though everything. We’re perfect together. Will you marry me?”
“Oh, Christ,” he breathed. Thoughts and responses swirled all around his head: ‘what?’ and ‘wow;’ pros, cons, doubts, and what-ifs; ‘yes’ and, scariest of all, ‘no thank you.’ So instead of answering, unsure just what would come out if he opened his mouth, he leaned down and caught Will’s face between his hands. He tried to put everything good about their relationship into the kiss he pressed against his lips - the love and the history, the friendship - and from the relieved sigh Will puffed against his lips when they’d pulled apart, he understood.
He guided one of Merlin’s hands from his cheek to the space between them and slid the ring onto his finger, gliding it past the first knuckle and against the second, where it stopped and refused to continue.
Will glared at it. “Bugger. I was sure I’d gotten the right size.” He stood, sighing, and Merlin curled his hand. He brought the ring closer, staring intently at it, and ran his thumb across the shining surface. He’d stopped watching for signs a long time ago, after New York had left him devastated with no one to blame but himself, but this was one. He knew it.
He just didn’t know whether to listen to it.
Like he was reading his mind, Will reached over and cupped his cheek. “It doesn’t mean anything. I promise. You can take it to get resized tomorrow; it’ll be fine.”
And so Merlin smiled as brightly as he could and pulled Will - his fiancé - into a tight hug. “I know.”
***
“Will proposed,” he said as soon as Gwen picked up the phone.
“Today?”
“Yeah. At Hyde park. He made me a picnic.” Merlin stared at the ring, now sitting in the palm of his hand. He hadn’t looked away from it for longer than a few minutes since he and Will had separated that afternoon.
“What did you say?”
“I said yes, I think.”
“You think.”
“Well, I didn’t really say much of anything. But I’ve got the ring.”
She was quiet for a long moment, and he thought he heard a door closing. She’d always liked having private phone conversations in her bathroom; the reminder made him smile. “You’re not sure,” she said. It wasn’t a question.
“I don’t know what I am.”
“Then wait for a sign.”
“Gwen- ”
“No, Merlin, I’m serious. Just because Fate’s a fickle bitch who kept you away from your mysterious Arthur three years ago doesn’t mean you should ignore what your gut’s telling you now.”
He swallowed and drew in a long breath. “The ring didn’t fit. I’m supposed to get it fixed tomorrow.”
She hummed in sympathy. “Is that enough?”
“I told myself no. But maybe? I don’t know, Gwen. What am I supposed to do?”
“I can’t decide for you. You have to figure it out for yourself. But Merlin?”
“Yeah.”
“Don’t settle.”
***
Dinner with Sophia’s father went about as well as Arthur figured it would - throughout the night, he’d been stared at appraisingly, blanket disapproval of any man and pride that his daughter had landed the wealthy son of a Publishing mogul warring on the man’s face.
They were getting married in five days. And after four years together, it was probably about time, not that he’d been rushing into it. He probably wouldn’t have even proposed if she hadn’t obviously wanted him to - why mess with what worked?
Morgana didn’t approve, of course. His father didn’t understand the appeal, but took the news well enough. Leon threatened to throw himself off a bridge.
But he was happy enough. They could stand each other for long periods of time, she cooked well, the sex was good. She understood his need to keep his own apartment for as long as he could, and he understood her addiction to online shopping. Neither of them made a big deal of the fact that they were spending most of the week before their wedding apart, her entertaining her father and working through the last details with their wedding planner and him tying up loose ends at work so that a week-long honeymoon wouldn’t leave him irreparably behind.
And they loved each other in their own way. Marriage wouldn’t change any of that.
On the walk back to his apartment, he spotted a bookstore he hadn’t been to in a while and ducked inside, heading straight for the section marked Sci-Fi/Fantasy. There were three hardback copies of Hitchhiker’s Guide on the shelves, and he flipped each one open to page forty-two before snapping them shut and replacing them.
With a sigh and a brief nod at the clerk behind the cash register, he walked back outside and made his way home.
***
When Merlin got back to his uncle’s shop that night, Gaius was still there, tinkering with a computer that had been giving him trouble. He wasn’t quite sure what was wrong with it, and it was driving him a bit batty.
“Still no diagnosis?” He flopped gracelessly onto one of the empty chairs.
“Not as such,” Gaius said, frowning at the machine. “Do you suppose you could take a look at it tomorrow? I know you’ve got the day off, but I’ll go mad if I have to stare at it anymore.”
Merlin gave him a tired smile. “Sure, Gaius.”
His uncle moved away from the worktable, looking at him with raised eyebrows. “Are you all right, my boy? You seem rather down tonight.”
“I’m fine.” He was lying and he knew it. Gaius could tell too; he stared another moment, looking a bit sad.
“London hasn’t been good for you, has it, Merlin?”
“You know as well as I do that I can’t go back, Gaius.” He’d picked up and moved to London just a couple months after Gwen’s wedding. When Will followed him without complaint, he told himself that it was the only sign he’d ever need that everything was as it should be. “As much as I miss my mum, going back home isn’t the answer. I’m figuring it out.”
Gaius pursed his lips, like that wasn’t quite what he meant, but nodded. “I hope so. “
After another moment, he wished his uncle good night and went upstairs, into the small flat he called home. He pulled off his clothes and climbed into bed, hoping that sleep would come quickly. Instead, he was awake for several hours more, staring at the ceiling and wishing the world made sense.
-
The next day (Four days before the wedding), 2010
Arthur’s father called him in the next morning to discuss Important Matters of Business which, he knew, was almost never good news for him.
This morning was no exception.
Uther pushed a thick manila folder across his desk. “You have a new client.”
Arthur picked it up, the label on the tab catching his attention immediately. “John Drake? I thought he was non-fiction. You usually handle the non-fiction clients.”
“I do,” he nodded, “because the science and history writers are statistically less insane than fiction writers. That does not, however, apply to Mr. Drake, who is writing a book on the Arthurian legends and who insisted he work with you the moment he learned your name. I trust that won’t be a problem?”
“Of course not,” he said, and slid the file into his bag. Plenty of dubiously sane clients already had access to him day and night, what was one more? “Was there anything else?”
“Yes,” Uther said, sliding another sheet of paper across the desk to him. “I’m putting you in charge of the interviews for the computer specialist position. I’ve had my PA set up times with each of them tomorrow and Thursday.”
He scanned the list, brow furrowing when he reached the bottom. “Who’s this last one? I don’t think I’ve seen a résumé for an M. Emrys.”
“I got an e-mail this morning from an old colleague of mine looking for a possible position for his nephew. I’ve been informed he’s the best, and coming from Gaius, that’s saying quite a lot.”
Arthur hummed his assent. “Why don’t you just hire Emrys, then? If you believe he’s the best.”
Uther smiled wryly. “Gaius hasn’t quite convinced him to come, as I take it. I’ve offered first class air fare from Heathrow and a guaranteed work visa to sweeten the deal, of course. If Gaius pulls it off, he should be here for an interview on Friday morning.”
“He’s an import?” Arthur asked, surprised.
“He’s the best.”
***
First thing that morning, Merlin followed the directions Will had given him to the jewelry shop where he’d bought the rings.
It was small, with a simplistic sign over the door proclaiming work that was ‘hand-crafted since 1878.’ There was one man working inside behind a glass display counter with dozens of rings for show; there were simple ones, like his band, and he could see others with intricate, flawless diamond work.
The man was older, with graying hair and strong hands, and he was wearing coveralls with a white shirt underneath and a red scarf around his neck. He turned around a moment after Merlin walked in, and a small sewn-on patch came into view, proclaiming him ‘Arthur.’
Merlin nearly dropped the ring.
“What can I do for you, my lad?”
“I-“ he said, but his voice died in his throat.
Arthur.
Arthur in a red scarf.
Gwen had told him to look for the signs. What if this was it? What if this meant that marrying Will was a mistake?
He let out a shaky breath, stuttered a “Sorry” to the shopkeeper, and left. He needed to take a walk.
***
Arthur met Sophia back at his apartment for lunch because she wanted to start packing for the Honeymoon.
“You know you’re awful at these kinds of things,” she’d said. “It’ll just be easier to let me do it.”
Which, to him, meant he got to lay on the bed, digging through some of his work files, while she pulled things he hadn’t seen in years out of the back of his closet.
“Good Lord, Arthur,” she said at one point, tossing another old jacket into a heap on the floor, “why do you even have some of this crap?”
He didn’t answer, but then she wasn’t really expecting him to. He only looked up when she let out a loud, “Oh!” and tossed something onto the bed. “Why don’t you wear this more often? It would look gorgeous on you. Didn’t you get me one of these?”
He froze at the long strip of red cashmere suddenly spread across his papers, a memory of the long pale hands that had wrapped it around his neck so long ago rising from the depths of his mind. He ran his fingers along the soft fabric, his breath catching in the back of his throat. “Yeah, I did,” he said, hoping his voice didn’t waver. “I guess I just forgot I had it.”
If it did, Sophia didn’t notice, because she just clucked disappointedly and went back to her digging.
***
Back at the office, staring at Leon across his desk, Arthur said, “I’m making a big mistake, aren’t I?”
Leon didn’t look up from his planner. “Which one?”
“Sophia. It’s a mistake, isn’t it?”
Leon sighed, set his pen down, and rubbed a hand over his face. “Are you serious? Because if it was my opinion you wanted, you would have listened to me four years ago when she figured out the office phone number and I threatened to brain myself with the receiver.”
“You think it’s a mistake.”
“Arthur. For fuck’s sake, you’re getting married in four days. This is not the time! Is this just some cold feet thing? Do I need to call Morgana to come shake you?”
“But what if I’m supposed to be waiting! What if I have a soul mate and I’m about to walk down the aisle and take myself permanently off the market?” He ran nervous hands through his hair and looked up just in time to see comprehension dawn in his PA’s eyes.
“Oh God. This is about the cab hijacker again, isn’t it?”
Arthur smiled wryly. “Merlin.”
“It is. Arthur, we went over this three years ago. Your ‘soul mate’ lives on another continent. You don’t know his last name. Last I checked, you couldn’t even say what part of England he lived in. Unless you have some new contact willing to scour Great Britain for every Merlin under age 30, we’re exactly where we were then.”
“Sophia found the scarf today,” he said, undeterred.
“The scarf,” Leon said blankly. “The red one, that was supposed to be for his boyfriend?”
“Yes! She just threw it to me and told me that I should wear it more often. I mean, Merlin believed in all that ‘signs’ crap, maybe that was a sign!”
Leon looked distinctly unimpressed. “A sign that you should clean out your closet more often? Definitely.”
“A sign that I’m not supposed to give up yet. That I’m supposed to try one more time.”
He shook his head. “You are out of your damn mind, you know that? I’ve been telling you for a long time, but this time I think you’re having an actual certifiable episode.”
“Does this mean you’ll help me?” He grinned in that certain childlike way that he knew would make Leon roll his eyes and say ‘fine, whatever,’ because they’d been together too long for him not to know these things.
“Will you give me a raise?”
“No.”
“Okay, fine. Whatever.”
***
“Gwen…”
“Merlin?”
He sniffed.
“Oh sweet bloody fuck, you’ve been crying.” This time he definitely heard a door close. “What happened?”
“I gave the ring back. I couldn’t…I was leading him on. And God, he was just so heartbroken. Gwen, I broke his heart. I-“ He let out a sob, resting his forehead against the steering column. He was still in the car park outside Will’s flat; he couldn’t drive, not yet.
“Love, what happened?”
“I took the ring to the jeweler this morning, and there was just this one old bloke in a scarf and some coveralls working. And when he turned around I saw his name. Gwen, it was Arthur. The jeweler who made my engagement ring too small was named Arthur and he was wearing a red bloody scarf.”
Gwen let out a long breath into the receiver. “Oh, Merlin.”
“So I took a walk, tried to find some way to ignore it, but I just. I couldn’t. Because that’s not a sign. That’s a giant advert made of flashing lights and arrows around it. And now, God, now I just feel so guilty.” He swallowed thickly.
“You did the right thing, Merlin. You know you did. There’s no way you could have kept going without being haunted by all the what-ifs and you told him the truth as soon as you knew it. You made it right as best you could; better than a whole lot of other people would have.”
He sobbed again, but quieter this time. Calmer. “If I’d just told him three years ago, I might not have hurt him so badly.”
“Hush, love. Don’t torture yourself.” She made calming noises into the phone, and an image of her as a mother rose unbidden in his mind. It calmed him enough to wipe the wetness from his eyes. “What are you going to do now?”
He huffed a sad laugh. “I wish I knew.”
***
When he got back to the shop late that afternoon, it was clear that Gaius was waiting for him. As soon as Merlin walked in, he was pointed to an empty chair. Deep lines of concern were etched across his uncle’s face. “Sit down, boy. We need to talk.”
He slumped down into the chair and rubbed a hand over his eyes. He felt better after talking to Gwen, but not enough so that he hoped he looked as well as he felt.
“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you as depressed as you’ve been these past couple days.” Merlin opened his mouth, but Gaius held up a hand. “So I think it’s time you had something new in your life.”
“Something new?” he asked, or started to, but Gaius produced a printed out plane ticket before he could finish.
“I know you’ve always been content working here, for me, but you should be doing something more with your talents. So I e-mailed an old colleague of mine who started a publishing company a few years back and asked if he had any need of a computer wizard.” Merlin was stunned. He let his head fall back and he laughed, loudly, up at the ceiling. How did Gaius always know exactly what he needed? “There’s an interview, but considering that he’s paid for the plane ticket and already started the papers for your work visa, I’m willing to bet the job’s yours if you want it.”
He smiled at his uncle, bright and real for the first time in days. “I can’t believe you got me a job that requires a plane ticket.”
“Well, my boy, that’s the thing,” he said. “It’s in New York City.”
Merlin was still laughing, loud and delighted, when he slid off the chair and into the floor.
Part II