Traditionally Done for schweet_heart
Title: Traditionally Done
Recipient: schweet_heart
Author: Sage_Owl
Rating: M (for light smut)
Pairing/s: Merlin/Arthur
Summary: Christmas-loving Merlin transfers to a new company just a few weeks before Christmas. All seems well, until he finds out his new boss is a bit of a Grinch...
Warnings: none
Word Count: 4,838
Author's Notes: I very much hope that all who read this fic, enjoy it-- including my giftee, schweet! Loved this prompt and had a blast writing it. Many thanks to my beta!
Disclaimer:Merlin is owned by the BBC and Shine. No copyright infringement is intended and no profit is being made. Don't send us to the dungeons.
Albion’s central offices were held in a massive, glimmering spike of steel in downtown London- quite literally piercing the layer of puffy clouds above them. A light dusting of snowflakes was in the air, and Merlin liked to think Albion’s spiky top was to be thanked for poking a hole in the heavens, so more fluffy, white goodness could spiral down around him. Glancing around to make sure no-one was watching, he let his eyes flash gold, grinning when the snowflakes around him whirled into a merry dance, briefly forming the shape of a dragon before drifting apart.
It was barely December, but Merlin already had a festive mashup of Christmas songs stuck firmly in his head, and he readjusted his soft, mile-long red scarf before entering the building with a smile.
Most people would balk at a job transfer just a few weeks before Christmas. But, despite the extra hours of paperwork and tearful goodbyes to his team (Will had promised to crash on his couch as much as was needed to ease Merlin’s grief, and Freya had smacked Will’s arm and declared that Merlin would need to buy a pull-out bed, so she and Will could share), truthfully, Merlin was terribly excited. Meeting a whole new host of coworkers meant he’d get to make them all Christmas gifts (he was currently debating between homemade candles or festively-decorated individual Christmas cakes, which he shamelessly adored). Plus, Albion was one of the few environmentalist corporations actually willing (albeit recently) to employ out-and-proud magic users. Merlin didn’t like to brag, but his magic was particularly attuned to nature, and the promise of being able to use his gifts for good was the main reason he’d jumped for the transfer in the first place (and not at all because the CEO, one Arthur Pendragon, looked deliciously gorgeous in his profile picture on Albion’s website).
Merlin patted down the pockets of his woolen coat, assuring himself everything was in order. Albion’s interior was full of the same steel-and-glass designs as the exterior, and Merlin was surprised to find a total lack of Christmas decorations, even a tree. But, it was still the beginning of the month, so he couldn’t fault them too much. He perked up a bit upon seeing a small, porcelain Christmas tree at the front desk, and he shared a grin with the cheery-looking young woman sitting behind it.
“Hi!” Merlin held out a mitten-covered hand for her to shake. “I’m Merlin, I just transferred here from-”
“Oh! Merlin, yes!” The woman cried, using one hand to gather up a messy handful of welcome papers and shove them across the desk. “That’s your welcome packet, but most of it’s pointless-” she snapped her mouth shut, eyes going wide with fear.
“I appreciate the honesty,” Merlin replied, grinning. “Saves me the time of reading it.” The woman relaxed at that, giving Merlin a rueful smile.
“I’m Elena, by the way,” the woman introduced herself, proceeding to tug open a desk drawer that Merlin could tell was stuffed to overflowing. Elena dug her hands through the mess with practiced ease, before pulling out a lanyard with a triumphant shout. “Your badge,” she explained, passing it to Merlin. The key card at the bottom was a blank white. “You’ll get your picture taken later today,” Elena added. “But first, Arthur- um, that is, Mr. Pendragon, wants to meet with you to give you a quick tour of the offices.”
Merlin’s eyebrows raised. The CEO wanted to meet with him personally?
Elena chuckled, obviously catching on to what Merlin’s expression meant. She leaned in closer, her blonde curls ruffling the stack of welcome papers. “You didn’t hear this from me, but he was very impressed with your resume.” She winked, and Merlin felt his cheeks warm to the shade of his scarf. “Enjoy your first day!” She added.
The elevator ride up to Mr. Pendragon’s office was long, and Merlin took the time to calm the flush in his cheeks, reminding himself that he was a professional, and was going to make an excellent impression as a talented, hard-working employee, and nothing more.
Two floors below his destination, the elevator slowed to a stop, and Merlin barely had time to blink before the doors opened and someone was grabbing his wrist and dragging him out before a floor of people, all crowded around an empty desk and grinning excitedly at him.
The man who’d dragged him out- who, Merlin now noticed, was roguishly handsome, with shoulder-length hair and an easy grin, pushed Merlin forward, calling out “Welcome to Albion!”
Other employees echoed the greeting, and Merlin was momentarily swept up in a swirl of handshakes and back-thumps as his coworkers introduced themselves. The man who’d orchestrated things introduced himself as Gwaine, and told Merlin they’d be fast friends once Merlin bought him a round of drinks at their favorite after-work pub.
“Best I can do is rum-spiked Christmas cake,” Merlin replied, putting a little extra theatrics into his heavy sigh.
Gwaine laughed. “Oh mate, we're going to be good friends. I can tell.”
“Impressive stunt, by the way, timing everything so perfectly,” Merlin said. “Had a lot of practice?”
“Oh, that,” Gwaine grinned, waggling his fingers in a non-subtle way that had the rest of the floor groaning. “A magician never reveals his tricks.”
Merlin beamed, thrilled to have found someone else with magic so quickly. Smirking, he tilted his head towards the pile of welcome papers on his desk. With a flash, the papers folded themselves into an origami rabbit, who hopped around the desk for a few moments before jumping into Merlin’s outstretched palm.
Gwaine whistled. “Wow, Elena wasn’t kidding when she said Arthur was impressed with you.”
Merlin smiled, pleased, then groaned when he remembered where he was supposed to be. “Shit, Gwaine, I have to go, I’m supposed to be in a meeting with him right now.”
“Well, that won’t work,” Gwaine mused, plopping himself down on Merlin’s desk. “Princess is in a stockholder meeting for at least another hour.”
“Oh.” Merlin was determined not to feel too disappointed. He would have other chances to meet Arthur, he was sure of it. “Care to help get me set up in the meantime? And also, ‘Princess’?”
Gwaine grinned. “My nickname for him. Arthur can be a bit of a prat sometimes, and this is my personal way of keeping him humble.”
Merlin rolled his eyes, unceremoniously shoving Gwaine out of the way so he could hang his coat over his chair. As he did, he felt a bulge in his front pocket, and carefully extracted the snowglobe he’d tucked inside. It was a typical winter scene, a snow-frosted Christmas tree with glittering lights strung around it, but he’d added a little of his own magic, so that every few minutes, a miniature Santa, sleigh and reindeer would fly in a loop around the Christmas tree.
“Is there somewhere I could leave this so that it gets to Arthur- er, Mr. Pendragon?”
Gwaine scooped up the snow globe, turning it over in his hands with another low whistle of admiration. “It’s beautiful, but…”
“But what?”
“Well, Princess doesn’t really celebrate Christmas. Or anything around this time of year, from what I’ve seen.”
Merlin boggled. “Not at all?” He asked, feeling some of his Christmas cheer shrivel up at the idea that his new boss was, apparently, a bit of a Grinch.
Gwaine shrugged. “‘Fraid so. Say, how about we get your company picture taken? I’m told I have an excellent eye behind the camera.” He winked, smiling even wider when Merlin burst out laughing.
“And a crap eye the rest of the time, I’m sure,” Merlin teased, laughing harder when Gwaine put on an exaggerated pout. Merlin promised himself he’d have a good first day, and whatever Arthur’s issues against Christmas were, Merlin was determined to see them for himself first.
His first week at Albion passed quickly. Gwaine took his picture, as promised, and swiftly made himself a familiar presence in the office with his corny jokes and running commentary on his latest project. He was wickedly good with statistics and probability, and often ran low-stakes bets around the office that all but the newbies knew not to challenge him on (and Merlin, after being forced to wear a ridiculous feathered hat for an entire work day, now knew better as well).
Gwen, head of PR, had been another fast friend, since they immediately bonded over their mutual love of holiday baking. Her bourbon brownies were heavenly, and she promised to bake him a plate as his Christmas gift if he baked her something other than Christmas cake. Merlin was currently considering snickerdoodles, but was keeping his options open.
Strangely enough, Arthur had become a familiar presence as well. According to Gwaine, he hated his private office- a leftover from Uther Pendragon’s time as CEO- and preferred to work out on the floor with everyone else. He and Merlin held a stilted, awkward introduction on Merlin’s second day.
Arthur shook Merlin’s hand with brisk efficiency, apologizing for being busy the previous day and thanking him for joining the team, and asked if he could stop by the lab the next day to see a demonstration of Merlin’s magic.
Merlin, who was trying not to blush at the feeling of Arthur’s strong, thick fingers against his (and was that a thumb ring he felt?), or stare too long at Arthur’s crisp blue eyes or sharp jawline, had readily agreed. Etiquette told him the conversation should end there, but Merlin couldn’t quite bear to let Arthur go just yet. Unfortunately, the first words out of his mouth were, “So, got any plans for Christmas?”
Arthur’s gentle smile darkened to a scowl, and he pulled his hand from Merlin’s grasp (Merlin was embarrassed to realize they’d been locked in a handshake that whole time). “No,” Arthur bit out. “No,” he repeated, tone a little more reserved. “I’ll probably be working the twenty-sixth, since it falls on a Monday.”
“Working the day after Christmas?” Merlin shouted in disbelief, wincing when several curious heads popped up from their desks at his outburst. Arthur’s expression darkened even further, and Merlin felt the conversation slipping away from him. “Sorry, I just-” Merlin bit his lip as he thought, too caught up in his own head to notice the way Arthur’s eyes briefly glanced at his mouth- “Aren’t you going to celebrate at all?”
“I think it’s time you get back to work, Merlin,” Arthur retorted, turning back to his own desk without another word.
Merlin frowned. His demonstration tomorrow would be sure to bring out Arthur’s hidden cheer.
The next day, Merlin trotted down to the main lab, happily whistling “Jingle Bells” as he ran through the spells he wanted to show Arthur.
Sefa, another employee with a gift for nature magic, was already waiting for him, her hands held out over dry soil, her eyes glowing a soft yellow. As Merlin watched, tiny stems began to climb up out of the dirt, leaves of clover slowly growing and unfurling until the patch of soil was covered with them. Merlin was in the middle of praising her when Arthur walked in, and congratulated Sefa on her work.
Something in his expression changed when he looked at Merlin, but Merlin didn’t know if it was good or bad.
“Well, Merlin, we don’t have all day. Get on with it.”
Merlin grinned, his excitement outweighing any of Arthur’s grumpiness. He cupped his hands together, keeping his eyes on Arthur as his eyes turned gold, then opened his hands to show a full, blooming poinsettia resting in his palms. Arthur nodded once, but didn’t comment. Merlin quickly moved on, keeping his palms open as the poinsettia reformed into a string of mistletoe. This brought a hint of a smile to Arthur’s face, and Merlin felt spurred on towards his grand finish. He suspended the mistletoe in the air between them, before placing his hands on either side of the plant, widening his fingers as he urged the mistletoe to grow. The mistletoe puffed up, winding over itself as it grew, branches sprouting out as the leaves lengthened to pine needles. With an extra flourish, Merlin created glowing orbs of light to rest in the branches of the Christmas tree, excitedly stepping around it to see Arthur’s expression.
Arthur was twisting his ring around his thumb, over and over, pinched gaze fixed on the display of Christmas cheer that Merlin had materialized out of nothing. When he spoke, he kept his eyes on the tree. “Very impressive, Merlin,” he began. Hope flared in Merlin’s chest. “But be sure to clean this mess up.” He smirked, then swept out of the room without a backwards glance.
Merlin was gobsmacked. “Prat,” he called out, surprised to hear a bark of laughter coming from the hallway. He closed his hand into a fist, and the Christmas tree burst into a shower of golden sparks.
Over the next several days, Merlin’s frustration with Arthur grew. If Merlin tuned the breakroom radio to a Christmas station, Arthur would change it. If Merlin brought in a dancing Santa to decorate his desk (an early gag gift from Will), he would walk in the next day to find it hidden in one of his desk drawers. If Merlin wore red or green (or worse, red and green) as part of his outfit, Arthur would give him a disdainful snort. When he asked Gwen about a possible secret santa exchange, she informed him that while gift-giving wasn’t prohibited, making a formal event of it was not permitted. For once, Merlin found himself wishing the holidays would be over as soon as possible, so he could focus on his work and the blossoming friendships with his coworkers without Arthur Pendragon doing his best to drain every ounce of Merlin’s Christmas cheer.
Merlin felt himself slump down in his seat every time Arthur entered the room, and had begun coming up with more and more creative insults to mutter whenever Arthur made an anti-Christmas comment. He was particularly proud of ‘dollophead’, though ‘clotpole’ was a close second. He’d hoped Arthur would take the hint and move his Grinch-like personality elsewhere- there were other floors, with other desks- but Arthur never got the hint. In fact, he seemed to hang around Merlin even more, watching every single time Merlin performed magic, ready with a mocking quip. Merlin felt that a glower was permanently plastered to his face.
It wasn’t until well into his second week at Albion that a full-on snowstorm hit, just a couple hours before he was set to leave. Heavy snowfall was a rare-enough occurrence that Merlin hadn’t prepared for it, and he mourned his future of scraping off ice and snow from his car without the proper tools.
The mood in the office was somber, and it only got more dismal when Arthur left an hour before anyone else, bundled up in a sleek black coat that accentuated the broad stretch of his shoulders. The man was a prat, but he was a gorgeous prat. Merlin scowled, unable to focus on his last hour of work. He left the office with his mittens already on, scarf wrapped up around his ears, nose, and mouth.
When he walked to his car and found Arthur Pendragon hard at work scraping away the ice and snow that had piled up, heavy breaths steaming out into the cold air in great white puffs, Merlin choked on a mouthful of yarn.
“Arthur!” He shouted, then realized he was muffled by his scarf, and quickly readjusted. “Arthur!” He called again, and this time Arthur looked up, eyes wide with recognition. “What are you doing out here?” Merlin asked, unlocking the doors so he could throw his bag in the passenger seat.
“Well.” For a moment, Arthur looked uncertain, before his signature haughtiness swiftly returned. “Well, Merlin,” he drawled, “the rest of my employees are aware of the parking garage underneath the building, where their vehicles are safe from getting snowed on. Since you obviously weren’t aware, I thought…” Arthur trailed off, gesturing to the ice scraper in his hand.
Merlin smirked. “You know I have magic, right?”
If Arthur’s cheeks weren’t already rosy from exertion, Merlin might have said he was blushing. “Yes, I’m aware. And I thought that after a day of using it you might want a break.” He frowned down at the scraper in his hand.
Despite plenty of evidence, Merlin was beginning to have a niggling feeling that he might have misjudged Arthur. It was a strange sensation, a tickling at the back of his throat that made him want to apologize for assuming the worst. He swallowed the words, feeling that enough of his relationship with Arthur had shifted already. “I don’t really get tired the way other people do after using magic. Still, thank you.”
Arthur raised an eyebrow. “Trying to say you’re special, Merlin?”
Merlin shrugged, trying not to smile. “More special than you, at least. Prat.”
The insult came out softer than Merlin meant, and judging by the flash of surprise across Arthur’s face, Merlin wasn’t the only one who’d noticed it.
Merlin ignored it, choosing to cross his arms over his chest and give Arthur a mock-disdainful glare. “Hurry up and finish, would you? I’d like to get home before it’s pitch-black out.”
Arthur gave a cocky, two-fingered salute, but obligingly got back to work, not stopping until the car was as free of snow and ice as possible.
Instead of another “thank you,” Merlin opted for a simple “cheers", which Arthur returned before heading back inside with a farewell wave. The whole drive home, Merlin couldn’t quite hold back the warm, cozy feeling in his chest. He blamed it on the heated seat.
Merlin spent the weekend doing as many Christmasy things as he could think of, to make up for how he’d been deprived at work. He went Christmas tree shopping with Sefa, the two of them taking turns to assist the sadder-looking trees with their growth when no-one was looking. He, Will, and Freya went ice-skating together, which ended with Freya being the only one graceful enough to stay on the ice. Merlin and Will stuck to the sidelines, trading workplace gossip and sipping cocoa.
Merlin entered the week before Christmas feeling exhausted, but happy, and hoping against all reason that Arthur wouldn’t bring his mood down the second he entered the office. Amazingly, Arthur didn’t even comment on Merlin’s red scarf when he walked in that morning- just shot him a friendly “good morning” and sat down at his desk.
Over the next few days, Merlin found himself observing Arthur more and more, noticing things he’d tried to ignore in the previous weeks. Arthur was friendly with everyone in the office. Not just in a ‘corporately-polite-so-it-looks-good’ kind of way, but a genuine ‘I-remembered-the-name-of-your-cat-you-mentioned-last-week’ kind of way, which was a little tricky to reconcile with the pratty-Grinch image Merlin had built up in his head. Merlin also saw how Arthur took time to deal with his employees’ concerns himself, instead of delegating, or worse, ignoring them. He saw Arthur sat next to Gilli, another new hire, in the break room, walking him through the computer systems he’d been struggling to use with a calm, patient voice. He saw Arthur listening to Sefa’s worries about the plants being left unsupervised over the long weekend and saw Arthur promise to check on them. Really, Merlin just saw Arthur, the real Arthur, and felt his physical attraction quickly bloom into a full-on crush.
On Wednesday, Arthur ordered in a catered lunch for the full office, and despite having a multitude of people to sit with, or even an entire private office for some peace and quiet, Arthur had waded through the throng of people to sit next to Merlin.
Instead of talking about Arthur’s generosity, or Merlin’s plans for Christmas, they kept the conversation casual, learning each other’s favorite foods (they both enjoyed Thai and Indian cuisine, but Arthur had ordered a smorgasbord for the office just to be safe), opinions on pets (Arthur wanted a dog, but knew central London wasn’t the best location. Merlin suggested he get a gerbil instead, and was treated to a glare and elbow nudge), and the places where they grew up (Merlin ended up talking about Ealdor for quite a while, since Arthur didn’t seem keen to discuss his childhood or his father).
If Merlin let himself think about it for too long, he knew he’d start thinking about how ‘first-date’ the questions seemed, and how natural it was when Arthur shared half the garlic bread on his plate after Merlin complained about forgetting to grab any. Still, lunch left him in high spirits, and he found himself whistling under his breath for the rest of the day. Arthur would roll his eyes when he recognized a Christmas tune, but Merlin knew the teasing was friendly, and would only whistle louder.
Merlin’s crush continued to grow after that. One part of him was eager to have a break from Arthur’s charming grins and easy company for a few days, while another part wished he could invite Arthur out for some Christmas celebrations. When he left the office on Friday, Arthur called out for him to have a good weekend, and that he’d see him on Tuesday. “See you on Tuesday,” Merlin repeated, trying not to grin too widely until he was safely in his car. The Christmas cakes had been a huge hit with everyone, and Merlin hoped his gift for Arthur would be well-received, too- he’d altered his original snow globe to be a simple winter cabin, with the magical flourish as a shimmer of the Northern Lights, instead of Santa and his reindeer.
Merlin drove down to Ealdor that night, and spent a wonderful Saturday and Sunday tucked in with his mum, eating mince pies, opening presents and interrupting their Christmas-movie marathon with loud crunchings of candy canes. He returned to his flat on Monday morning with his bags twice as full as when he’d left. He knew he was supposed to be spending the day in bed or on the sofa, napping away his Christmas feast before he returned to work the next day. But, he really wanted to know if Arthur liked his gift.
Albion was deserted when Merlin arrived, the lights dimmed. Merlin left Elena’s gift on her desk- he’d forgotten to leave it in the Friday rush- and made his way up. Arthur was sitting at his usual desk, fingers idly twisting the ring on his thumb as he scanned something on his screen.
Merlin took a deep breath and stepped forward, trying not to laugh when Arthur jumped in his seat at the sound of Merlin’s footsteps. “Working hard, or hardly working?”
“Wow, did it take you the whole elevator ride to come up with that?” Despite his words, Arthur’s expression had already brightened, and he got up from his desk to meet Merlin halfway. Up-close, Arthur smelled like woodsy aftershave, and there was a little smudge of curry at the corner of his mouth that Merlin badly wanted to wipe clean (or lick away- he wasn’t picky).
“I got your gift,” Arthur said, after the silence between them had stretched on for just a bit too long.
“And?” Merlin asked, trying not to sound overly hopeful. “Not too Christmasy for you?”
Arthur laughed, the force of it enough to throw his head back, revealing the lines of his neck that Merlin’s lips ached to trace. “Not at all. In fact,” Arthur hurried back to his desk, returning with a small package wrapped in gold paper, “I got you something as well. Not for Christmas,” he added, seeing the question in Merlin’s eyes. “For Yule.”
“Yule? Is that what you celebrate?” Merlin had a thousand questions on the tip of his tongue, but forced himself to wait. He wanted to know whatever Arthur was comfortable sharing- nothing more, nothing less.
Arthur nodded, taking a seat on Merlin’s desk. He sighed, twisting the metal thumb ring he always wore. Merlin couldn’t help the way his eyes fell to track its movement.
“My mother…” Arthur paused, a frown furrowing his perfect brow. “I don’t know all that much about her. She died when I was still a baby, and Uther-” Arthur cut himself off with a harsh laugh. “My father isn’t known to be very forthcoming. But, I know that she was a Druid. I don’t know if she had magic or not, but celebrating their holidays- Yule, for example- helps me feel a lot closer to her.”
Merlin swallowed back the lump of emotion in his throat as his heart swelled with love for the man before him. “That’s beautiful. I’m sorry if I ever made you feel that-”
Arthur waved his apology away. “Don’t mention it, I know I can be a bit of a prat sometimes. Plus, I do find Druid traditions to be a bit more thoughtful than modern-day Christmas festivities.”
Merlin jokingly mimed an arrow hitting his chest, grinning when Arthur laughed at his antics. Suddenly, the previous weeks were cast in a new light, and Merlin felt certain unusual events slot into place. “Yule takes place on the Winter Solstice, right? And that food you ordered for the office, that was-”
Arthur raised his hands in mock surrender. “Yes, yes, you’ve found out my secret. Sharing a meal with loved ones is-” Arthur froze, twin spots of color appearing on his cheeks.
“Loved ones, huh?” Merlin raised one eyebrow, trying to look suave even as his heart beat a staccato rhythm in his chest. He slowly walked towards his desk, stopping just shy of the gap between Arthur’s spread legs. “So, Arthur, is there anything you’d like to confess?”
“Shut up,” Arthur breathed, eyes locked on Merlin’s mouth.
“Make me,” Merlin retorted, confidently stepping into Arthur’s personal space, Arthur’s knees bracketing his hips.
Arthur’s pupils widened, and Merlin barely had time to react before a plush mouth pressed against his lips, warm and insistent. Merlin melted into it, hands coming up to encircle Arthur’s waist as their mouths opened to each other. Merlin felt the touch of Arthur’s thumb ring on his neck, blessedly cool metal against the hot flush of his skin, and moaned into their kiss. He heard Arthur give an answering groan as they both pulled each other closer, unwilling to allow even an inch of space between them.
When they finally stopped for air, Merlin’s hair was a tangled mess, Arthur’s tie was partially undone, and Merlin was certain his expression matched Arthur’s hungry stare and slick, cherry-red lips.
Merlin tried to step back a bit- so he could adjust himself- but his foot snagged on something bristly. He glanced down, surprised to see branches of mistletoe and holly wound around his ankles, steadily creeping towards Arthur as well.
Arthur noticed them too, and laughed delightedly, tugging Merlin closer by his belt-loops. “Seems I’m not the only one who has something to confess, Merlin,” he goaded.
“Prat,” Merlin muttered, leaning in for another kiss. Alone in the office, Merlin found it surprisingly easy to cajole Arthur into spending his remaining work hours in much more pleasant ways- and discovered they both had a bit of a thing for Arthur’s thumb ring tracing over every inch of Merlin’s skin, leaving cool trails of goosebumps that Arthur was more than happy to warm with his tongue.
When they finally paused their explorations (and ordered food, which Merlin decided should be curry, for no discernible reason), Arthur presented him with his gift- a small golden bell, intricately carved with the image of a bird mid-flight.
“Is this your way of asking me to warn you whenever I’m nearby?” Merlin teased, fingers playing with Arthur’s hastily done-up belt.
Arthur rolled his eyes, leaning in to press a soft kiss to Merlin’s cheek. “Idiot,” he replied, fondly. “I already know when you’re near.”
Merlin flushed, pleased, and tumbled Arthur back onto the floor, where they lost another hour to the pleasures of their hands and mouths (the takeaway was thankfully left in the lobby, where they could collect it after they’d had a chance to collect themselves- again).
Arthur was eager to teach Merlin about Druid traditions, and Merlin was eager to learn, fascinated by bonfires, yule logs and deep, ancient magic. He fell in love with Arthur’s traditions as easily as he’d fallen for Arthur- more so, really, since there was no arguing and far less name-calling this time around.
The next year, on the twenty-first of December, instead of the twenty-fifth, Merlin brought in cider-soaked cookies for the office- and mulled wine to share with Arthur later, in private- and he allowed himself a brief moment of holiday sentiment to marvel at how Arthur’s smile lit up the entire office.
Recipient: schweet_heart
Author: Sage_Owl
Rating: M (for light smut)
Pairing/s: Merlin/Arthur
Summary: Christmas-loving Merlin transfers to a new company just a few weeks before Christmas. All seems well, until he finds out his new boss is a bit of a Grinch...
Warnings: none
Word Count: 4,838
Author's Notes: I very much hope that all who read this fic, enjoy it-- including my giftee, schweet! Loved this prompt and had a blast writing it. Many thanks to my beta!
Disclaimer:Merlin is owned by the BBC and Shine. No copyright infringement is intended and no profit is being made. Don't send us to the dungeons.
Albion’s central offices were held in a massive, glimmering spike of steel in downtown London- quite literally piercing the layer of puffy clouds above them. A light dusting of snowflakes was in the air, and Merlin liked to think Albion’s spiky top was to be thanked for poking a hole in the heavens, so more fluffy, white goodness could spiral down around him. Glancing around to make sure no-one was watching, he let his eyes flash gold, grinning when the snowflakes around him whirled into a merry dance, briefly forming the shape of a dragon before drifting apart.
It was barely December, but Merlin already had a festive mashup of Christmas songs stuck firmly in his head, and he readjusted his soft, mile-long red scarf before entering the building with a smile.
Most people would balk at a job transfer just a few weeks before Christmas. But, despite the extra hours of paperwork and tearful goodbyes to his team (Will had promised to crash on his couch as much as was needed to ease Merlin’s grief, and Freya had smacked Will’s arm and declared that Merlin would need to buy a pull-out bed, so she and Will could share), truthfully, Merlin was terribly excited. Meeting a whole new host of coworkers meant he’d get to make them all Christmas gifts (he was currently debating between homemade candles or festively-decorated individual Christmas cakes, which he shamelessly adored). Plus, Albion was one of the few environmentalist corporations actually willing (albeit recently) to employ out-and-proud magic users. Merlin didn’t like to brag, but his magic was particularly attuned to nature, and the promise of being able to use his gifts for good was the main reason he’d jumped for the transfer in the first place (and not at all because the CEO, one Arthur Pendragon, looked deliciously gorgeous in his profile picture on Albion’s website).
Merlin patted down the pockets of his woolen coat, assuring himself everything was in order. Albion’s interior was full of the same steel-and-glass designs as the exterior, and Merlin was surprised to find a total lack of Christmas decorations, even a tree. But, it was still the beginning of the month, so he couldn’t fault them too much. He perked up a bit upon seeing a small, porcelain Christmas tree at the front desk, and he shared a grin with the cheery-looking young woman sitting behind it.
“Hi!” Merlin held out a mitten-covered hand for her to shake. “I’m Merlin, I just transferred here from-”
“Oh! Merlin, yes!” The woman cried, using one hand to gather up a messy handful of welcome papers and shove them across the desk. “That’s your welcome packet, but most of it’s pointless-” she snapped her mouth shut, eyes going wide with fear.
“I appreciate the honesty,” Merlin replied, grinning. “Saves me the time of reading it.” The woman relaxed at that, giving Merlin a rueful smile.
“I’m Elena, by the way,” the woman introduced herself, proceeding to tug open a desk drawer that Merlin could tell was stuffed to overflowing. Elena dug her hands through the mess with practiced ease, before pulling out a lanyard with a triumphant shout. “Your badge,” she explained, passing it to Merlin. The key card at the bottom was a blank white. “You’ll get your picture taken later today,” Elena added. “But first, Arthur- um, that is, Mr. Pendragon, wants to meet with you to give you a quick tour of the offices.”
Merlin’s eyebrows raised. The CEO wanted to meet with him personally?
Elena chuckled, obviously catching on to what Merlin’s expression meant. She leaned in closer, her blonde curls ruffling the stack of welcome papers. “You didn’t hear this from me, but he was very impressed with your resume.” She winked, and Merlin felt his cheeks warm to the shade of his scarf. “Enjoy your first day!” She added.
The elevator ride up to Mr. Pendragon’s office was long, and Merlin took the time to calm the flush in his cheeks, reminding himself that he was a professional, and was going to make an excellent impression as a talented, hard-working employee, and nothing more.
Two floors below his destination, the elevator slowed to a stop, and Merlin barely had time to blink before the doors opened and someone was grabbing his wrist and dragging him out before a floor of people, all crowded around an empty desk and grinning excitedly at him.
The man who’d dragged him out- who, Merlin now noticed, was roguishly handsome, with shoulder-length hair and an easy grin, pushed Merlin forward, calling out “Welcome to Albion!”
Other employees echoed the greeting, and Merlin was momentarily swept up in a swirl of handshakes and back-thumps as his coworkers introduced themselves. The man who’d orchestrated things introduced himself as Gwaine, and told Merlin they’d be fast friends once Merlin bought him a round of drinks at their favorite after-work pub.
“Best I can do is rum-spiked Christmas cake,” Merlin replied, putting a little extra theatrics into his heavy sigh.
Gwaine laughed. “Oh mate, we're going to be good friends. I can tell.”
“Impressive stunt, by the way, timing everything so perfectly,” Merlin said. “Had a lot of practice?”
“Oh, that,” Gwaine grinned, waggling his fingers in a non-subtle way that had the rest of the floor groaning. “A magician never reveals his tricks.”
Merlin beamed, thrilled to have found someone else with magic so quickly. Smirking, he tilted his head towards the pile of welcome papers on his desk. With a flash, the papers folded themselves into an origami rabbit, who hopped around the desk for a few moments before jumping into Merlin’s outstretched palm.
Gwaine whistled. “Wow, Elena wasn’t kidding when she said Arthur was impressed with you.”
Merlin smiled, pleased, then groaned when he remembered where he was supposed to be. “Shit, Gwaine, I have to go, I’m supposed to be in a meeting with him right now.”
“Well, that won’t work,” Gwaine mused, plopping himself down on Merlin’s desk. “Princess is in a stockholder meeting for at least another hour.”
“Oh.” Merlin was determined not to feel too disappointed. He would have other chances to meet Arthur, he was sure of it. “Care to help get me set up in the meantime? And also, ‘Princess’?”
Gwaine grinned. “My nickname for him. Arthur can be a bit of a prat sometimes, and this is my personal way of keeping him humble.”
Merlin rolled his eyes, unceremoniously shoving Gwaine out of the way so he could hang his coat over his chair. As he did, he felt a bulge in his front pocket, and carefully extracted the snowglobe he’d tucked inside. It was a typical winter scene, a snow-frosted Christmas tree with glittering lights strung around it, but he’d added a little of his own magic, so that every few minutes, a miniature Santa, sleigh and reindeer would fly in a loop around the Christmas tree.
“Is there somewhere I could leave this so that it gets to Arthur- er, Mr. Pendragon?”
Gwaine scooped up the snow globe, turning it over in his hands with another low whistle of admiration. “It’s beautiful, but…”
“But what?”
“Well, Princess doesn’t really celebrate Christmas. Or anything around this time of year, from what I’ve seen.”
Merlin boggled. “Not at all?” He asked, feeling some of his Christmas cheer shrivel up at the idea that his new boss was, apparently, a bit of a Grinch.
Gwaine shrugged. “‘Fraid so. Say, how about we get your company picture taken? I’m told I have an excellent eye behind the camera.” He winked, smiling even wider when Merlin burst out laughing.
“And a crap eye the rest of the time, I’m sure,” Merlin teased, laughing harder when Gwaine put on an exaggerated pout. Merlin promised himself he’d have a good first day, and whatever Arthur’s issues against Christmas were, Merlin was determined to see them for himself first.
His first week at Albion passed quickly. Gwaine took his picture, as promised, and swiftly made himself a familiar presence in the office with his corny jokes and running commentary on his latest project. He was wickedly good with statistics and probability, and often ran low-stakes bets around the office that all but the newbies knew not to challenge him on (and Merlin, after being forced to wear a ridiculous feathered hat for an entire work day, now knew better as well).
Gwen, head of PR, had been another fast friend, since they immediately bonded over their mutual love of holiday baking. Her bourbon brownies were heavenly, and she promised to bake him a plate as his Christmas gift if he baked her something other than Christmas cake. Merlin was currently considering snickerdoodles, but was keeping his options open.
Strangely enough, Arthur had become a familiar presence as well. According to Gwaine, he hated his private office- a leftover from Uther Pendragon’s time as CEO- and preferred to work out on the floor with everyone else. He and Merlin held a stilted, awkward introduction on Merlin’s second day.
Arthur shook Merlin’s hand with brisk efficiency, apologizing for being busy the previous day and thanking him for joining the team, and asked if he could stop by the lab the next day to see a demonstration of Merlin’s magic.
Merlin, who was trying not to blush at the feeling of Arthur’s strong, thick fingers against his (and was that a thumb ring he felt?), or stare too long at Arthur’s crisp blue eyes or sharp jawline, had readily agreed. Etiquette told him the conversation should end there, but Merlin couldn’t quite bear to let Arthur go just yet. Unfortunately, the first words out of his mouth were, “So, got any plans for Christmas?”
Arthur’s gentle smile darkened to a scowl, and he pulled his hand from Merlin’s grasp (Merlin was embarrassed to realize they’d been locked in a handshake that whole time). “No,” Arthur bit out. “No,” he repeated, tone a little more reserved. “I’ll probably be working the twenty-sixth, since it falls on a Monday.”
“Working the day after Christmas?” Merlin shouted in disbelief, wincing when several curious heads popped up from their desks at his outburst. Arthur’s expression darkened even further, and Merlin felt the conversation slipping away from him. “Sorry, I just-” Merlin bit his lip as he thought, too caught up in his own head to notice the way Arthur’s eyes briefly glanced at his mouth- “Aren’t you going to celebrate at all?”
“I think it’s time you get back to work, Merlin,” Arthur retorted, turning back to his own desk without another word.
Merlin frowned. His demonstration tomorrow would be sure to bring out Arthur’s hidden cheer.
The next day, Merlin trotted down to the main lab, happily whistling “Jingle Bells” as he ran through the spells he wanted to show Arthur.
Sefa, another employee with a gift for nature magic, was already waiting for him, her hands held out over dry soil, her eyes glowing a soft yellow. As Merlin watched, tiny stems began to climb up out of the dirt, leaves of clover slowly growing and unfurling until the patch of soil was covered with them. Merlin was in the middle of praising her when Arthur walked in, and congratulated Sefa on her work.
Something in his expression changed when he looked at Merlin, but Merlin didn’t know if it was good or bad.
“Well, Merlin, we don’t have all day. Get on with it.”
Merlin grinned, his excitement outweighing any of Arthur’s grumpiness. He cupped his hands together, keeping his eyes on Arthur as his eyes turned gold, then opened his hands to show a full, blooming poinsettia resting in his palms. Arthur nodded once, but didn’t comment. Merlin quickly moved on, keeping his palms open as the poinsettia reformed into a string of mistletoe. This brought a hint of a smile to Arthur’s face, and Merlin felt spurred on towards his grand finish. He suspended the mistletoe in the air between them, before placing his hands on either side of the plant, widening his fingers as he urged the mistletoe to grow. The mistletoe puffed up, winding over itself as it grew, branches sprouting out as the leaves lengthened to pine needles. With an extra flourish, Merlin created glowing orbs of light to rest in the branches of the Christmas tree, excitedly stepping around it to see Arthur’s expression.
Arthur was twisting his ring around his thumb, over and over, pinched gaze fixed on the display of Christmas cheer that Merlin had materialized out of nothing. When he spoke, he kept his eyes on the tree. “Very impressive, Merlin,” he began. Hope flared in Merlin’s chest. “But be sure to clean this mess up.” He smirked, then swept out of the room without a backwards glance.
Merlin was gobsmacked. “Prat,” he called out, surprised to hear a bark of laughter coming from the hallway. He closed his hand into a fist, and the Christmas tree burst into a shower of golden sparks.
Over the next several days, Merlin’s frustration with Arthur grew. If Merlin tuned the breakroom radio to a Christmas station, Arthur would change it. If Merlin brought in a dancing Santa to decorate his desk (an early gag gift from Will), he would walk in the next day to find it hidden in one of his desk drawers. If Merlin wore red or green (or worse, red and green) as part of his outfit, Arthur would give him a disdainful snort. When he asked Gwen about a possible secret santa exchange, she informed him that while gift-giving wasn’t prohibited, making a formal event of it was not permitted. For once, Merlin found himself wishing the holidays would be over as soon as possible, so he could focus on his work and the blossoming friendships with his coworkers without Arthur Pendragon doing his best to drain every ounce of Merlin’s Christmas cheer.
Merlin felt himself slump down in his seat every time Arthur entered the room, and had begun coming up with more and more creative insults to mutter whenever Arthur made an anti-Christmas comment. He was particularly proud of ‘dollophead’, though ‘clotpole’ was a close second. He’d hoped Arthur would take the hint and move his Grinch-like personality elsewhere- there were other floors, with other desks- but Arthur never got the hint. In fact, he seemed to hang around Merlin even more, watching every single time Merlin performed magic, ready with a mocking quip. Merlin felt that a glower was permanently plastered to his face.
It wasn’t until well into his second week at Albion that a full-on snowstorm hit, just a couple hours before he was set to leave. Heavy snowfall was a rare-enough occurrence that Merlin hadn’t prepared for it, and he mourned his future of scraping off ice and snow from his car without the proper tools.
The mood in the office was somber, and it only got more dismal when Arthur left an hour before anyone else, bundled up in a sleek black coat that accentuated the broad stretch of his shoulders. The man was a prat, but he was a gorgeous prat. Merlin scowled, unable to focus on his last hour of work. He left the office with his mittens already on, scarf wrapped up around his ears, nose, and mouth.
When he walked to his car and found Arthur Pendragon hard at work scraping away the ice and snow that had piled up, heavy breaths steaming out into the cold air in great white puffs, Merlin choked on a mouthful of yarn.
“Arthur!” He shouted, then realized he was muffled by his scarf, and quickly readjusted. “Arthur!” He called again, and this time Arthur looked up, eyes wide with recognition. “What are you doing out here?” Merlin asked, unlocking the doors so he could throw his bag in the passenger seat.
“Well.” For a moment, Arthur looked uncertain, before his signature haughtiness swiftly returned. “Well, Merlin,” he drawled, “the rest of my employees are aware of the parking garage underneath the building, where their vehicles are safe from getting snowed on. Since you obviously weren’t aware, I thought…” Arthur trailed off, gesturing to the ice scraper in his hand.
Merlin smirked. “You know I have magic, right?”
If Arthur’s cheeks weren’t already rosy from exertion, Merlin might have said he was blushing. “Yes, I’m aware. And I thought that after a day of using it you might want a break.” He frowned down at the scraper in his hand.
Despite plenty of evidence, Merlin was beginning to have a niggling feeling that he might have misjudged Arthur. It was a strange sensation, a tickling at the back of his throat that made him want to apologize for assuming the worst. He swallowed the words, feeling that enough of his relationship with Arthur had shifted already. “I don’t really get tired the way other people do after using magic. Still, thank you.”
Arthur raised an eyebrow. “Trying to say you’re special, Merlin?”
Merlin shrugged, trying not to smile. “More special than you, at least. Prat.”
The insult came out softer than Merlin meant, and judging by the flash of surprise across Arthur’s face, Merlin wasn’t the only one who’d noticed it.
Merlin ignored it, choosing to cross his arms over his chest and give Arthur a mock-disdainful glare. “Hurry up and finish, would you? I’d like to get home before it’s pitch-black out.”
Arthur gave a cocky, two-fingered salute, but obligingly got back to work, not stopping until the car was as free of snow and ice as possible.
Instead of another “thank you,” Merlin opted for a simple “cheers", which Arthur returned before heading back inside with a farewell wave. The whole drive home, Merlin couldn’t quite hold back the warm, cozy feeling in his chest. He blamed it on the heated seat.
Merlin spent the weekend doing as many Christmasy things as he could think of, to make up for how he’d been deprived at work. He went Christmas tree shopping with Sefa, the two of them taking turns to assist the sadder-looking trees with their growth when no-one was looking. He, Will, and Freya went ice-skating together, which ended with Freya being the only one graceful enough to stay on the ice. Merlin and Will stuck to the sidelines, trading workplace gossip and sipping cocoa.
Merlin entered the week before Christmas feeling exhausted, but happy, and hoping against all reason that Arthur wouldn’t bring his mood down the second he entered the office. Amazingly, Arthur didn’t even comment on Merlin’s red scarf when he walked in that morning- just shot him a friendly “good morning” and sat down at his desk.
Over the next few days, Merlin found himself observing Arthur more and more, noticing things he’d tried to ignore in the previous weeks. Arthur was friendly with everyone in the office. Not just in a ‘corporately-polite-so-it-looks-good’ kind of way, but a genuine ‘I-remembered-the-name-of-your-cat-you-mentioned-last-week’ kind of way, which was a little tricky to reconcile with the pratty-Grinch image Merlin had built up in his head. Merlin also saw how Arthur took time to deal with his employees’ concerns himself, instead of delegating, or worse, ignoring them. He saw Arthur sat next to Gilli, another new hire, in the break room, walking him through the computer systems he’d been struggling to use with a calm, patient voice. He saw Arthur listening to Sefa’s worries about the plants being left unsupervised over the long weekend and saw Arthur promise to check on them. Really, Merlin just saw Arthur, the real Arthur, and felt his physical attraction quickly bloom into a full-on crush.
On Wednesday, Arthur ordered in a catered lunch for the full office, and despite having a multitude of people to sit with, or even an entire private office for some peace and quiet, Arthur had waded through the throng of people to sit next to Merlin.
Instead of talking about Arthur’s generosity, or Merlin’s plans for Christmas, they kept the conversation casual, learning each other’s favorite foods (they both enjoyed Thai and Indian cuisine, but Arthur had ordered a smorgasbord for the office just to be safe), opinions on pets (Arthur wanted a dog, but knew central London wasn’t the best location. Merlin suggested he get a gerbil instead, and was treated to a glare and elbow nudge), and the places where they grew up (Merlin ended up talking about Ealdor for quite a while, since Arthur didn’t seem keen to discuss his childhood or his father).
If Merlin let himself think about it for too long, he knew he’d start thinking about how ‘first-date’ the questions seemed, and how natural it was when Arthur shared half the garlic bread on his plate after Merlin complained about forgetting to grab any. Still, lunch left him in high spirits, and he found himself whistling under his breath for the rest of the day. Arthur would roll his eyes when he recognized a Christmas tune, but Merlin knew the teasing was friendly, and would only whistle louder.
Merlin’s crush continued to grow after that. One part of him was eager to have a break from Arthur’s charming grins and easy company for a few days, while another part wished he could invite Arthur out for some Christmas celebrations. When he left the office on Friday, Arthur called out for him to have a good weekend, and that he’d see him on Tuesday. “See you on Tuesday,” Merlin repeated, trying not to grin too widely until he was safely in his car. The Christmas cakes had been a huge hit with everyone, and Merlin hoped his gift for Arthur would be well-received, too- he’d altered his original snow globe to be a simple winter cabin, with the magical flourish as a shimmer of the Northern Lights, instead of Santa and his reindeer.
Merlin drove down to Ealdor that night, and spent a wonderful Saturday and Sunday tucked in with his mum, eating mince pies, opening presents and interrupting their Christmas-movie marathon with loud crunchings of candy canes. He returned to his flat on Monday morning with his bags twice as full as when he’d left. He knew he was supposed to be spending the day in bed or on the sofa, napping away his Christmas feast before he returned to work the next day. But, he really wanted to know if Arthur liked his gift.
Albion was deserted when Merlin arrived, the lights dimmed. Merlin left Elena’s gift on her desk- he’d forgotten to leave it in the Friday rush- and made his way up. Arthur was sitting at his usual desk, fingers idly twisting the ring on his thumb as he scanned something on his screen.
Merlin took a deep breath and stepped forward, trying not to laugh when Arthur jumped in his seat at the sound of Merlin’s footsteps. “Working hard, or hardly working?”
“Wow, did it take you the whole elevator ride to come up with that?” Despite his words, Arthur’s expression had already brightened, and he got up from his desk to meet Merlin halfway. Up-close, Arthur smelled like woodsy aftershave, and there was a little smudge of curry at the corner of his mouth that Merlin badly wanted to wipe clean (or lick away- he wasn’t picky).
“I got your gift,” Arthur said, after the silence between them had stretched on for just a bit too long.
“And?” Merlin asked, trying not to sound overly hopeful. “Not too Christmasy for you?”
Arthur laughed, the force of it enough to throw his head back, revealing the lines of his neck that Merlin’s lips ached to trace. “Not at all. In fact,” Arthur hurried back to his desk, returning with a small package wrapped in gold paper, “I got you something as well. Not for Christmas,” he added, seeing the question in Merlin’s eyes. “For Yule.”
“Yule? Is that what you celebrate?” Merlin had a thousand questions on the tip of his tongue, but forced himself to wait. He wanted to know whatever Arthur was comfortable sharing- nothing more, nothing less.
Arthur nodded, taking a seat on Merlin’s desk. He sighed, twisting the metal thumb ring he always wore. Merlin couldn’t help the way his eyes fell to track its movement.
“My mother…” Arthur paused, a frown furrowing his perfect brow. “I don’t know all that much about her. She died when I was still a baby, and Uther-” Arthur cut himself off with a harsh laugh. “My father isn’t known to be very forthcoming. But, I know that she was a Druid. I don’t know if she had magic or not, but celebrating their holidays- Yule, for example- helps me feel a lot closer to her.”
Merlin swallowed back the lump of emotion in his throat as his heart swelled with love for the man before him. “That’s beautiful. I’m sorry if I ever made you feel that-”
Arthur waved his apology away. “Don’t mention it, I know I can be a bit of a prat sometimes. Plus, I do find Druid traditions to be a bit more thoughtful than modern-day Christmas festivities.”
Merlin jokingly mimed an arrow hitting his chest, grinning when Arthur laughed at his antics. Suddenly, the previous weeks were cast in a new light, and Merlin felt certain unusual events slot into place. “Yule takes place on the Winter Solstice, right? And that food you ordered for the office, that was-”
Arthur raised his hands in mock surrender. “Yes, yes, you’ve found out my secret. Sharing a meal with loved ones is-” Arthur froze, twin spots of color appearing on his cheeks.
“Loved ones, huh?” Merlin raised one eyebrow, trying to look suave even as his heart beat a staccato rhythm in his chest. He slowly walked towards his desk, stopping just shy of the gap between Arthur’s spread legs. “So, Arthur, is there anything you’d like to confess?”
“Shut up,” Arthur breathed, eyes locked on Merlin’s mouth.
“Make me,” Merlin retorted, confidently stepping into Arthur’s personal space, Arthur’s knees bracketing his hips.
Arthur’s pupils widened, and Merlin barely had time to react before a plush mouth pressed against his lips, warm and insistent. Merlin melted into it, hands coming up to encircle Arthur’s waist as their mouths opened to each other. Merlin felt the touch of Arthur’s thumb ring on his neck, blessedly cool metal against the hot flush of his skin, and moaned into their kiss. He heard Arthur give an answering groan as they both pulled each other closer, unwilling to allow even an inch of space between them.
When they finally stopped for air, Merlin’s hair was a tangled mess, Arthur’s tie was partially undone, and Merlin was certain his expression matched Arthur’s hungry stare and slick, cherry-red lips.
Merlin tried to step back a bit- so he could adjust himself- but his foot snagged on something bristly. He glanced down, surprised to see branches of mistletoe and holly wound around his ankles, steadily creeping towards Arthur as well.
Arthur noticed them too, and laughed delightedly, tugging Merlin closer by his belt-loops. “Seems I’m not the only one who has something to confess, Merlin,” he goaded.
“Prat,” Merlin muttered, leaning in for another kiss. Alone in the office, Merlin found it surprisingly easy to cajole Arthur into spending his remaining work hours in much more pleasant ways- and discovered they both had a bit of a thing for Arthur’s thumb ring tracing over every inch of Merlin’s skin, leaving cool trails of goosebumps that Arthur was more than happy to warm with his tongue.
When they finally paused their explorations (and ordered food, which Merlin decided should be curry, for no discernible reason), Arthur presented him with his gift- a small golden bell, intricately carved with the image of a bird mid-flight.
“Is this your way of asking me to warn you whenever I’m nearby?” Merlin teased, fingers playing with Arthur’s hastily done-up belt.
Arthur rolled his eyes, leaning in to press a soft kiss to Merlin’s cheek. “Idiot,” he replied, fondly. “I already know when you’re near.”
Merlin flushed, pleased, and tumbled Arthur back onto the floor, where they lost another hour to the pleasures of their hands and mouths (the takeaway was thankfully left in the lobby, where they could collect it after they’d had a chance to collect themselves- again).
Arthur was eager to teach Merlin about Druid traditions, and Merlin was eager to learn, fascinated by bonfires, yule logs and deep, ancient magic. He fell in love with Arthur’s traditions as easily as he’d fallen for Arthur- more so, really, since there was no arguing and far less name-calling this time around.
The next year, on the twenty-first of December, instead of the twenty-fifth, Merlin brought in cider-soaked cookies for the office- and mulled wine to share with Arthur later, in private- and he allowed himself a brief moment of holiday sentiment to marvel at how Arthur’s smile lit up the entire office.