The Future Soon (2/4)
Part One
Merlin’s bedsit is small, but surprisingly clean. “I’d expected it to be a bit of a pigsty,” Arthur admits from the door.
“Magic’s good for cleaning.” Merlin smiles, but it’s tight and awkward. “Come in, would you?” Arthur obeys, since he’s got no particular reason to be difficult, and shucks off his jacket to hang on a peg on the door. There’s a moment of silence. “What made you change your mind?” Merlin asks eventually.
“I went to a Seer’s shop earlier.”
Merlin actually laughs. “You too? I thought the great Arthur Pendragon would be above that sort of nonsense.”
“What did you see, then?” Merlin bites his lip, and Arthur supposes he ought to make some effort as well. He can’t bring himself to explain the whole vision, how much it shakes him that he was planning to propose, and with his mother’s ring, because Merlin won’t understand that. Arthur almost proposed to Sophia years ago, had thought he and Gwen would be together forever once upon a time, had even vaguely considered marrying Vivian, but he’d never even considered asking his father for his mother’s ring. None of them would have been right for it. “I asked you to marry me,” he forces himself to say.
“I took you to meet my mother,” Merlin replies.
Arthur laughs, because the whole thing is absurd. Anyone else would be celebrating seeing this in their future, and he and Merlin are trying desperately to avoid it. He doesn’t even know why Merlin is avoiding it, other than their mutual mostly-cordial dislike, which isn’t holding water much anymore with them working together like this. Perhaps he ought to ask, but then he would have to explain in return, and he’s losing sight of his reasons. “I hope I charmed her,” he says, striving to keep his tone light.
“You dumped your breakfast in the trash when she wasn’t looking,” says Merlin, but he’s smiling. “Mind you, I don’t blame you, my mum’s a bit of a rubbish cook.” He glances at his kitchen, like that reminded him that he has a guest. “Can I get you something to drink?”
No, Arthur should say, we both know why I’m here and we might as well acknowledge it and go straight to the bedroom. “Water would be lovely,” he says instead.
“Gods, you’re posh.” Arthur just rolls his eyes while Merlin goes to the sink and fills a glass from the tap. “Here, hope it’s to your standards.” Just for that, Arthur makes a point of keeping a straight face while he drinks, even though it’s unfiltered and tastes of chemicals. Merlin fidgets while he takes a few gulps, trying to figure out how to do this, and ends up speaking again before Arthur can. “So how are we meant to do this?”
“In the usual fashion, I assume, unless there’s something off about you magic users.”
Merlin smirks. “It’s your first time with a magic user? I’ll be gentle, I promise.”
Arthur wishes suddenly that one of his visions had been of them having sex so he could have proper ammunition to mock Merlin with. “I won’t break.” He eyes Merlin. “And one would think you were scared of me. What are you doing all the way over there?”
The challenge is the right way to do it, it seems, because it brings Merlin over the three or four steps in between them until he’s nearly toe-to-toe with Arthur. Arthur finishes his glass of water and sets it on the nearest flat surface before turning back to Merlin, who is looking at him with uncomfortable intensity. “Shall we?”
Neither of them actually moves. Arthur wants to give up and walk out more by the second, but with this level of awkwardness at least chances are that they’ll never be able to even look at one another again, let alone get married. Still, it isn’t actually going to work if he doesn’t do something. “For the love of--” He holds out his arms. “Come here, would you?”
When Merlin reluctantly gets within arm’s length, Arthur grabs his collar and reels him in, putting him off balance and making him catch himself on Arthur’s chest. Merlin’s mouth falls open to object, and Arthur kisses him. For a second, Merlin’s lips keep moving like he’s trying to talk, but Arthur just slips his tongue inside and it stops.
Merlin, he discovers within moments, is a good kisser (but he knew that already, though things can change in a few years), not sloppy or shy. He frames Arthur’s face with his hands and systematically goes about finding what Arthur likes best while Arthur holds onto his shirt and tries to return the favour.
“This would be much easier in my bedroom,” Merlin whispers a few minutes later, when Arthur pulls away from his lips to taste the curve of his jaw and the line of his neck. Arthur hums and kisses Merlin’s pulse point. Merlin sighs, and it ruffles Arthur’s hair. “That was a hint, in case you didn’t notice.” Arthur nips his ear in retaliation. “Ow! For the record, I may have big ears, but they’re not actually sensitive.”
Arthur pulls away quickly when he remembers the first vision he saw, Merlin laughing like that had become a joke between them. “I’ll try to keep that in mind in future.”
“The future is just tonight, in case you didn’t remember,” snaps Merlin, and Arthur reminds himself that he has no right to take offense. “That’s sort of the point of all this.”
“Fine, show me to the bedroom, then.”
“I was trying,” says Merlin, and grabs him by the hand to tow him across the tiny living room space into the even tinier bedroom, which is barely big enough for a bed and a dresser. “If you say anything, I will absolutely kick you out.”
“And leave us to get married because we die of sexual tension? You’ve got to take one for the team, Merlin.” Merlin just glares and drops Arthur’s hand. “Fine, I’m sorry, I’ll keep my mouth shut.”
Merlin goes through at least five facial expressions, and Arthur doesn’t manage to understand a single one of them. “That would be a first, and at a really inopportune time,” Merlin says at last, with an attempt at a smirk. “Are we going to do this?”
In answer, Arthur starts unbuttoning his shirt, and when he looks up, Merlin is stripping his own off over his head. They undress in relative silence, and it feels wrong. Arthur gives up before he even finishes shoving down his trousers and takes the one step he needs to get into Merlin’s space and take over undoing his belt. “We should do this because we want to,” he says as conversationally as he can manage. Merlin feels much warmer than he ought. “It’s not like this is some sort of great sacrifice. We’ll muddle through, if you don’t want to.”
“If you are just trying to make me admit that I want to shag you,” Merlin starts, and Arthur kisses him silent again. “I’ve been thinking about it, since the first vision,” he continues when Arthur stops to finish with his belt and shimmy his trousers off his hips. “I can’t say I’m not curious.”
“Curious isn’t good enough.”
Merlin kisses him. “Trust you to have an attack of chivalry at the worst moment. Seriously, Arthur. I want to.”
Arthur, for all he tries to be a gentleman, certainly isn’t a saint, so he finishes divesting Merlin of his trousers and pants and then takes off his own while Merlin stumbles his way out of his socks, which he of course left for last because he’s useless. This time, it’s Merlin’s turn to catch him by the shoulder and turn him around, right as Arthur finishes getting his kit off. Arthur rolls his eyes. “What?”
“You want it too, right? That wasn’t you having some massive breakdown and wanting me to back out so you wouldn’t look like an idiot or anything, right?”
“I don’t do anything I don’t want to do.”
“Except marry me, apparently,” says Merlin waspishly, and Arthur kisses him. It’s rapidly becoming his favourite way to shut Merlin up. Merlin kisses back properly, and Arthur grinds their hips together, enjoying the feel of so much naked skin against his own. It’s always been different, being with men--more points of connection, more skin to touch, less cricks in the neck from bending. Merlin, for all he’s thin, is tall too, and all his sharp angles press into Arthur in the right places.
It’s Merlin who tumbles them down onto the bed, but Arthur who manages to twist while they fall to land on top, which gets an annoyed huff out of Merlin. It’s all an illusion, of course, Merlin could have him pinned to the bed in seconds if he wanted it, but Arthur enjoys it while it lasts. He braces himself so he won’t crush Merlin and kisses him hard, with occasional little thrusts of his hips to check on the state of Merlin’s erection. When he’s fully hard and Merlin is starting to make little noises into the kiss, Arthur pulls away, half to speak and half to see Merlin glare at him glassy-eyed. “Unless you have any particular objections, I’m going to blow you.”
“Your mouth,” says Merlin, which is quite answer enough.
Arthur kisses him one more time, just because he looks a bit bewildered, and then moves on to his goal.
Merlin grabs onto Arthur’s hair and holds there after the first lick, and his grip gets progressively tighter as Arthur explores every inch of his cock with tongue and lips before closing his mouth around it and sucking. It’s been a while, so he doesn’t go very deep at first, but it doesn’t seem to matter much to Merlin, who’s quiet but squirming against the hold Arthur has on his hips, tugging on Arthur’s hair with every movement. Arthur pulls off when one particular trick he remembers from uni makes Merlin gag him and actually pull out a few hairs at the same time. “I don’t want to be bald when I’m thirty, thank you.”
In answer, Merlin moves his hands to the back of Arthur’s neck and pushes until Arthur takes him in his mouth again, moving slowly down until he’s taken as much as he can and then humming. Merlin’s hands tighten convulsively at his neck, which is only marginally better than the hair-pulling. He doesn’t object. It’s good. He doesn’t know what the difference is from Vivian--from everyone he’s had in the past five years, really--but it’s good.
Merlin comes without warning (well, in retrospect the hand moving back to his hair and tugging desperately might have been an attempt at that, but he was rather distracted with the taste of salt and precum and the way Merlin’s whole body was was just trembling like he was about to burst), filling Arthur’s mouth with more than he’s prepared for. He pulls off so he doesn’t gag and spits what he can’t swallow off the edge of the bed while Merlin finishes with a grunt, catching Arthur’s neck and shoulder as he twists.
“I have to clean that in the morning,” says Merlin.
“Oh, shut it, you’ve got magic,” Arthur replies, and then Merlin is dragging him up the bed, since apparently he doesn’t need to recover after an orgasm. Arthur was expecting to have to finish himself off, since Merlin is useless, but that thought lasts about as long as it takes for Merlin to wrap his long fingers around Arthur’s erection before it disappears into a haze of heat. He doesn’t think Merlin’s using magic, but he’s honestly not sure, and it doesn’t take long to finish off. Merlin bends down afterwards and licks him clean, probably to prove a point. Arthur doesn’t mind. He’s nearly asleep.
Merlin comes back up to join him on the pillow when he’s done and runs his hands through Arthur’s hair, smoothing it down. “You can stay the night, if you want.”
“Excellent,” says Arthur, and dozes off.
The morning is … strange. Arthur wakes up tangled up in what seems like far too many limbs for them both having the requisite number, and even though they’re both hard, Merlin makes no move to do anything about it. He just smiles at Arthur and thanks him for the night. Arthur, who was about to suggest breakfast at least, finds himself standing on the other side of Merlin’s door in what feels like no time at all. “I’ll let you know if anything’s changed,” says Merlin with what’s got to be false cheer, and shuts the door.
Arthur stares at it for far too long, and only leaves when one of Merlin’s neighbours comes out of his flat and gives Arthur a funny sidelong look. When he gets home, he resists the urge to either go back to Taliesin’s or to call one of his friends to moan about how confused he is. The former is a bit of a terrifying thought, and for the latter he’d have to call Elyan, and he expects no sympathy whatsoever from that quarter.
Instead, he very carefully stops thinking about Merlin and whether they’re still getting married and why the hell he thought sex would make it go away when it’s just twisted him up all in knots. He goes for a run instead, and spends the afternoon with work reports that aren’t due for nearly two weeks. By the time Morgana calls in the evening and asks what’s wrong, he can lie convincingly enough to put her off the scent.
*
Arthur almost doesn’t pick up his phone when he sees Merlin’s name on his screen. They’ve been doing a very good job of not acknowledging one another’s existence in the month since they had sex, despite everyone’s best efforts, and he doesn’t particularly feel like breaking that record. Still, if Merlin is calling, he must have a good reason. Arthur answers the phone just before it goes to voicemail. “Hello?”
“I need your help,” says Merlin.
If he was expecting anything, it would have been a belated update after visiting a Seer and seeing if they’d managed to change the future. Merlin’s tone seems a bit off for that, though. “What’s the matter?”
“There’s a girl who works at your father’s company. Her name is Freya, and she’s--”
“One of the best workers we’ve got,” says Arthur automatically, because she does the data entry for his team and he does her performance reviews. “Nice, if shy.”
“Your father is going to fire her, and she can’t afford that.” Merlin doesn’t need to explain why. “I know it’s a long shot, but I had to ask if you can try to save her job. She doesn’t--he found out through her medical history. She got cursed when she was younger and got noted as a magic user on her records.”
Arthur hears a story or two like it every year. The company employs quite a lot of people, and sometimes when they can’t find another option a magic user will quietly join up. When they’re found out, their contracts are broken for one reason or another, nothing overtly related to their magic. He doesn’t like it, and there’s at least one magic user working at the company because Arthur falsified his records when his father went on a witchhunt, but there’s no way of making his father keep a worker once he starts suspecting magic. “I’ll do what I can,” he says, even though he knows he can’t do much.
“That’s all I want. I just … I couldn’t stand by when I know the one person who might be able to do something.”
“Thank you for trusting me to try, then.” He coughs. “I’ll try to have arrangements available for if it doesn’t work. You may tell her so.”
“You don’t need to do that. There are options for her.”
“The offer stands.” Arthur stares at his laptop screen and the numbers he’s been crunching on his couch. The whole mess with Merlin and the future has been good for his productivity at work, he can say at least that much for it. “I’ll have to figure out how to make him want to keep her on. He’ll just find a way around discrimination laws, he always does.”
“We get more of that sort of thing than you’d think, in the community. Let me know if you want connections.” He pauses. “Or Morgana, I suppose.”
“Yes, I ought to go to Morgana. Don’t want to bother you.”
There’s silence for so long that Arthur starts to wonder if the call has been dropped. “It’s not like I hate you,” Merlin says abruptly just as Arthur is about to hang up and think about trying again. “I just don’t much fancy being blackmailed by the future.”
“And you and I have nothing in common,” Arthur adds.
“And the in-laws would be terrifying.”
“And you--” Arthur sighs. “It just wouldn’t work. And I don’t much fancy being blackmailed either. I haven’t gone to a Seer’s shop since that night, to see. Have you?”
“Things have been busy.”
“That’s no problem. I just thought I would ask.” The conversation is starting to remind him of the ones he had with his father for the first six months after he was photographed snogging a man, not in the level of disapproval but in the huge fucking elephant in the room. “Well. I’ll keep you updated on the situation with Freya, and call if I have any issues.” Awkwardness with Merlin will be far easier to deal with than Morgana’s smugness.
“Thank you again, Arthur. I hope you can work something out.”
“So do I,” says Arthur, and hangs up before they can descend into silence again.
The next morning, he goes early to the office and takes the long way, and passes by Taliesin’s on his way. He’s walked by a few times since he went in, but this is the first time he’s considered trying again, seeing if they’ve made a difference. He doesn’t know what he would do either way, though, so he continues on to the office.
As he’d hoped, only Freya and a few other workers are in his department when he gets there. She jumps to her feet when she sees him, like she’s preparing to run, but she doesn’t object when he gestures her into his office and shuts the door. “Merlin was short on details last night,” he says when she’s standing before him like she’s expecting a firing squad, and enjoys the way she relaxes all at once. “Does my father already know you’re a magic user, or will we have time to fix your records before he comings in for the morning?”
“He knows, he just hasn’t talked to me yet. His secretary called down last night after he left to apologize for sending the records on before checking them.” She twists her hands together. “We still haven’t figured out what made him suspect me in the first place. I think it’s that I had a migraine last week and went to the company clinic. They pulled up my records then, and probably one of the doctors is loyal enough to tell.”
Arthur wonders if his father realizes that nearly everyone in his company is just waiting for him to retire and working against him as best they can. Even his son. “If he knows for sure, chances are large you won’t be able to stay in this office.”
Freya looks more than a bit panicked. “I know what happens to people who get fired from Pendragon for having magic. Not many will hire them.” She looks down. “Us.”
“We’ve got a few options.” He makes his voice as calming as possible, though he can’t say he’s good at it. That’s always been more Leon and Elena’s purview. Pity neither of them works at Pendragon anymore. “We can falsify your performance records before my father calls them up to find an excuse to fire you and I can strongly imply that you’re as much of a harridan as my sister and will run straight to Nimueh Lake and the other pro-magic activists to cry discrimination. That won’t keep you on, but it likely will give you a good severance package so you’ll have more time to try to find work.”
“And how would I find it? Merlin’s offered to help, but he’s taking courses and interning and the social services for magic users are pretty overloaded, thanks to--”
“My father,” Arthur finishes when she turns pink and stops talking. “I’ll write you a reference, of course. Not many people would turn you away if I did that, although word would get back to my father.”
“I don’t want to get you in trouble.”
Arthur shrugs. “I’ve been in worse, and will be in worse, I’m sure.” He thinks of conversations with Merlin in the future. This won’t be the last person he tries to save someone from his father’s bigotry. That, he vows silently, won’t change no matter whether he marries Merlin or not. “The only other option I can think of is a bit of a long shot, but I might be able to pull it off. However, it would require you leaving London.”
Freya puts it together without having to ask. “You think you could get him to send me to the new Wales office?”
“Like I said, it’s a long shot, but if I say the right things about diversity hires and just keeping you away from where you can do any harm … it’s cheaper to live, over there. But I know you might not want to leave your friends and family.”
Arthur looks away and boots up his computer for the day. He’s put in his password and gone searching for her files to do what good he can when she finally speaks. “If you can transfer me to Wales, I would appreciate that. It’s a steady job, and I haven’t got much here.”
It’s none of his business, so he just nods and busies himself with her file, cursing his inability to be comforting. For once, he actually wants Merlin around. He knows Freya and it’s his job to be nice to people. “I’ll do my best to remove any references to magic that I can find outside of your medical file, then. I don’t think there are many. Now, if you like, we can get started on your work.” Freya flees before he can say anything else.
When his father arrives after a breakfast meeting, Arthur gives him twenty minutes before going up to visit his office. His father gives him a pleased smile. “Ah, Arthur, saves me having to send for you. I have to talk to you about a member of your team.”
Arthur shuts the door. “Freya, yes, I heard. That’s why I came to see you, actually.”
Uther gives him the gimlet glare that makes other businessmen shake in their boots. “Just because the girl is on your team doesn’t make her any less a user of magic. She can’t be trusted and she will be laid off just like all the others.”
“If you say so.” Arthur calls up every trick he knows after twenty-six years of dealing with his father. “I had an alternate idea, but if you insist, I’ll start going through her records for an excuse. It won’t be easy. She’s punctual, efficient, and cooperative. I’ve never had a problem on one of her reviews.”
“What sort of alternate idea, Arthur?”
He shrugs, carefully indifferent. “The Wales office is short-staffed at the moment, is all. She’s indicated in the past that she’s willing to move for the company. I was thinking of recommending her for a placement there before.” That’s a blatant lie, since he would be mad to send Freya away when she does some of the best work in his department, but his father might believe it.
“Why should I send her to Wales? Why should I keep her on at all?”
“For all I’m sure Aredian will pull ahead and win the elections, it might not hurt to make a concession or two in case Lakewins. She’ll take it as a sign of good faith and won’t be searching up every imagined infraction like she otherwise might.” Nimueh Lake, Arthur discovered thanks to Morgana, was a school friend of his mother’s, and talk of her usually makes his father listen for at least a few seconds. “And putting Freya in Wales will keep her away from the center of things so she won’t be able to sabotage main operations.” Any more will just make his father suspicious. “Anyway, I suppose it’s your choice. Just a thought. Now, I was wondering if the deadline for the numbers on the Mercia project could be moved back a day, since we’ll need time to find someone new to do the data entry.”
“I’ll consider your proposition about Wales. It’s always good to have the government on our side. And the Mercia figures are needed not a single hour after I’ve asked for them, Arthur, as always. You’ll find a way to do it.”
“Yes, sir,” says Arthur, and goes back to his department to wait for the results of his chat.
Freya gets called up to Uther’s office around midday, and at four o’clock the e-mail comes to his department congratulating her in very terse language for her promotion and near-immediate departure for Wales. Arthur makes a point of having a conference call in his office with the door closed while everyone else on his team swarms her desk, asking why they hadn’t heard about the move. He stays there until after she’s out of the office for a day.
That doesn’t stop Merlin calling while Arthur is walking back from work, the quick way this time. “Freya says you sorted it for her, and then disappeared so she couldn’t thank you.”
“She shouldn’t. She’s still being moved to bloody Wales, and besides, if she thanks me, my father will realize that I did something.”
“Then I’ll thank you. You did a lot better for her than most people in her situation get.”
“I only wish I could do it more often.”
“You will.” Merlin pauses, then clears his throat when Arthur doesn’t offer up a comment at that. Arthur just keeps walking. “Not because I saw it or anything. Because I think you would anyway.”
“Thank you.”
“I went to a Seer’s shop on my way to work this morning,” says Merlin out of nowhere, and Arthur catches his breath. “Because you seemed curious, and I didn’t think you’d go, so I thought perhaps it would be a return for the favour with Freya.”
“And?”
“Well, we aren’t together anymore.” Arthur wishes he could see Merlin’s face; most of the time it’s much easier to read than his voice. “Five years in the future, at least, we aren’t. I don’t know about what you’ll be doing then, you weren’t in the vision.”
There isn’t a polite question to ask, in the situation. Arthur asks one nonetheless. “You, though. You’re happy?”
“Sure I am.” Merlin laughs, but it doesn’t sound terribly convincing, and there’s a note in his voice that Arthur doesn’t recognize. “I’m not shackled to you, at least. Working the job I want to work.”
“Good. That’s … good.” He reaches his apartment building. “I’ve got to go. I suppose I’ll see you around.”
“Yes. Gwen and Lancelot are having us all for dinner soon and I don’t think either of us can miss. I’m betting they’re announcing her being pregnant.”
“I’ll see you then.”
“Sure.” Arthur nearly ends the call when he hears Merlin say his name again. “Thank you again,” he says. “Freya and I both appreciate it.”
“No problem,” says Arthur, and hangs up.
*
Arthur tells himself he isn’t going into Taliesin’s right until he walks through the door. But he’s curious about the tone of Merlin’s voice on the phone last night--was he lying? Was he less happy in that future than he wanted to seem?--so he takes the turn off the street at the last minute and pushes the door open.
Again, Taliesin is at the counter, and he raises an eyebrow in recognition. “Your fortune didn’t please you last time, so you’ve come for another?”
“Better to ask you than my sister. Might we get started quickly? I’ve got to get to work after this.”
Taliesin stands up. “To the back room, then.” Arthur follows and watches again as Taliesin looks around the room of crystals. He picks one from an entirely different shelf this time. “This one’s a bit of a wildcard sometimes,” he warns before he hands it to Arthur. “But it’s tuned itself about four years in the future for you, and it should answer the question on your mind.”
“Thank you.” Arthur takes it and looks inside.
“--proud of you,” Morgana is saying, words she’s certainly never directed at him before. They seem to be at some sort of party--not many people he knows, besides her, but he thinks he sees Nimueh Lake across the room.
“It’s not like I’m the Prime Minister or anything, Morgana. I barely live off the wages I get in the Magic Users’ Office.” Arthur-in-the-future waves at someone across the room, someone Arthur doesn’t know now.
“You’re going in the right direction, though. I knew it would do you good to quit Pendragon.”
“It’s not that I had much choice.” From the way Morgana is staying close, it looks like he’s invited her to this function as his date. He tries very hard not to be horrified by that. “It was that or be shipped out to bloody Wales, and I couldn’t do much good there.”
For the first time, Arthur wishes he could take control of his future self, so he could ask Morgana what prompted his departure from Pendragon. Did his father find out about his attempts to help people like Freya? Did he stand up to him? Where’s Merlin and why is it that Arthur was still working at Pendragon when they were married but isn’t now? She couldn’t answer that last, but he wants to know anyway. “We would all miss you if you went to Wales anyway,” says Morgana. “Well, not Morgause.”
“Or Merlin,” says Arthur-in-the-future, too lightly, and Arthur winces.
She gives him the same uncomfortably intense look that she does now when he isn’t telling her something. “I don’t know why you can’t get along. It’s been years since you shagged.”
“We did not shag.”
“You are a dirty liar and you--”
Arthur puts the crystal down. Taliesin is just watching, head cocked, but he speaks when he realizes Arthur’s come out of his trance. “You got the answer you wanted the first time.”
“I suppose I did.” And it’s a good life, when he thinks about it. Out from under his father’s thumb, working his way to make a difference in politics for the magic users he’s starting to want to help. Still friends with Morgana and with most of his other friends. But when he compares the vague contentment with an undercurrent of anxiety from this most recent future with the love and security of the others he’s seen, it doesn’t feel like he got the right answer. Maybe it’s why Merlin sounded so unsure on the phone: he said he had everything he wanted, but maybe there wasn’t that feeling behind it all that made Arthur come out of the visions near-breathless before. “I was starting to think the other future was inevitable. Bit of a shock to see that it’s not.”
“There are things that are meant to be, but that doesn’t mean they’ll happen, if you try hard enough to stop them.”
Perhaps he should know this. Morgana talked about it enough, when she was first learning, how she had to remind herself that not everything would come true, or come true the way she thought that it would. Still, three different futures at different times showed him married to Merlin and he doesn’t know what changed it at last. Was it Merlin kicking him out of bed followed by a month of no contact? Or were they finally determined enough? “And what happens if something that’s meant to be doesn’t happen?”
Taliesin shrugs. “Perhaps nothing much. Perhaps a great deal. What have you changed?”
“I’m no longer marrying someone.”
“And do you love her?”
Arthur doesn’t bother correcting him. “Not yet. That’s why we were trying to change it. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got to go. The same amount as last time, I assume?”
“You would be right.” Arthur rummages in his wallet and pays the fee before walking out, leaving Taliesin in the back room.
He should go directly to the office. He’ll be a bit early, but not too much so, and it would be prudent to toe the line for a while in case defending Freya made his father suspicious of his loyalties. There are still people to help, so he can’t leave yet, and it’s best to stay on his father’s good side.
Instead, though, he stops off in a small seedy park, more of a lawn with a fountain, just off the street with the Seer’s shop, and calls Morgana. “This had better be good, I’ve got a big project at work this week and I haven’t got time for nonsense,” she says when she picks up the phone.
“Caller ID has made your greetings so much less polite.” He can almost hear her roll her eyes and prepare to say something scathing. “I’ll cut to the chase, I promise. Do you ever dream about me?”
“I had a dream last week that you were wearing a hedgehog as a hat, but I suspect that’s not what you mean,” she says dryly. “If you mean prophetic dreams then yes, of course. I dream about all my friends and family sometimes, and you aren’t the exception.”
“What have you seen?”
Morgana sounds wary when she answers, and the background noise has faded some. “What’s the matter, Arthur? You never ask me questions about magic.”
“I’ll tell you after. Just tell me what you see when you dream about me.”
She sighs. “It depends, but I think I know what you’re after, since Merlin tried oh-so-casually to bring it up as well.” Arthur winces, but at least he isn’t alone in wondering. “I’ve seen you two together--married, even--on and off practically since you’ve met.”
“On and off?”
“Mostly on, to be honest, and sometimes I see one of you doing something at work or with other friends and it’s impossible to know, but yes, sometimes you aren’t, before you start getting stroppy about that. Nothing stays exactly the same over such a long span of time.” So it could be chance that he and Merlin keep seeing themselves married, or it could be “meant to be.” “Tell me why you’re asking.”
He hadn’t told her, in the future he just saw. But that’s something easily enough changed by choices. “At your flat, those two times, and another time besides that, Merlin and I saw ourselves getting married. And we’ve been trying to change that.”
“That explains why you’re avoiding each other so much. Gwaine and Elena and I were discussing why that might be the other day, but we figured it was just because you’d finally given in and shagged and were embarrassed about it.”
In for a penny, in for a pound. “Well, that too.” Morgana starts laughing, and he has to nearly shout into the phone to get her to stop, hoping all the while that nobody passing is actually paying attention. “We thought it might prevent us getting together.”
“That sounds like Merlin-logic,” she says in between giggles. “Why are you telling me now? Didn’t it work? Or should I be buying the two of you a china service?”
“It worked.”
Something in his tone stops her laughing. “Oh, Arthur.”
“I didn’t call you for pity.”
“I know you didn’t. What did you call for?”
“Confirmation, I suppose.” To see if she thought they were destiny or if it were just something that happened more often than not for whatever reason. “Anyway, I’ve got to go, I’m late for the office.”
“Fix it, Arthur.” He sighs and opens his mouth to tell her that nothing needs fixing, his life will be just the same in four years only he won’t be at his father’s beck and call any longer. “If you called me, it means you didn’t like what you saw. So fix it.” With that, she hangs up before he can, leaving Arthur to walk to the office.
Freya accosts him almost the second he’s through the door, ten minutes late. Everyone on his team stops to stare, probably because they think he’s more his father’s son than he is. “In my office,” he snaps. She follows without a word and waits while he puts down his briefcase and tries to put his morning trip to Taliesin’s and his call with Morgana out of his mind. “You don’t have to say anything,” he says at last. “It was the very least I could do.”
“It wasn’t, though. Merlin says he thanked you already for me, but I do want to say it for myself. It’s not everyone who would put his neck on the line just because his boyfriend asked for a favour.”
He doesn’t bother asking where she got the impression he and Merlin are dating; Merlin wouldn’t have told her, and that’s what matters. He just sighs and shakes his head. “Merlin and I aren’t together. We just know each other, is all, and he thought I might be able to help. Anyone with the ability and a conscience would have done the same.”
She blushes. “I’m sorry, I just assumed. He seemed so certain that you would help, and other than Vivian, we don’t hear much about what you do outside the office.”
At least she isn’t a Seer. “It’s fine, Freya. Natural assumption. It’s all fine.” And sometime he’ll give himself time to wonder why Merlin, who’s forever needling him for being his father’s son and not doing anything for magic users, believed that Arthur would help when he made that phone call. “I’m only sorry I couldn’t keep you in the office. I can’t imagine anyone else doing such good work.”
“I’ll be doing much the same at Wales. Tomorrow’s my last day.”
“Good luck, then.”
Freya just looks at him for a few seconds, intent, before speaking again. “Thank you again. And I’m sorry about making assumptions.”
He isn’t thinking about it, not at work. There’s been too much thought about it over the past few days anyway, and Arthur wants to be at home, not at the office, when he starts facing the fact that he was far happier when he thought he was going to marry Merlin. “No problem. Best of luck in Wales, if we don’t talk again.”
She takes that as the dismissal it is, and leaves him alone in his office to get his mind back on his work.
*
Merlin is late to dinner at Gwen’s, and by the time he gets there, Morgana, Elena and Gwaine have all been giving Arthur accusing looks for at least five minutes and even Gwen asked if they’d had a fight (“not that I think you can’t act like adults or anything, but you’ve been avoiding each other lately”). Elyan just sits back looking exasperated.
However, Merlin comes in looking just as cheerful and disorganized as ever, hair in a mess and a sheepish grin already on his face. “My mother called,” he explains when Elena scolds him. “I hadn’t talked to her in a while, or I would have been here sooner.”
“Dinner’s ready,” says Gwen, once she’s taken Merlin’s coat and kissed his cheek. “A few more minutes and we would have had to start without you.”
Somehow (Arthur suspects Morgana, although she doesn’t make any overt moves so he can’t be sure), Arthur winds up shepherded to a seat next to Merlin when they all seat themselves around Gwen’s big round table. It’s awkward for all of thirty seconds while everyone else settles down and Gwen and Lancelot start serving up dinner, and then Merlin blindsides him with a smile. Not one of his huge grins, but a smile nonetheless. “Freya said you seemed uncomfortable, but I did want to thank you in person.”
“It’s the least I could do,” he says, and holds out his plate for Gwen to dish some roast onto it. When Merlin opens his mouth, probably to politely disagree, he shakes his head. “I know you persist in thinking I’m a younger, better-looking version of my father, but I do actually have a heart.”
“I don’t think that. I wouldn’t have called you in the first place if I thought that.” Merlin’s so intent on him that Morgana has to snap her fingers in his face before he stops leaning all over his plate and lets Gwen give him food. When the scrutiny is off them, he speaks again. “I just know how hard it is for you to go against him. Better than I did before, I mean.”
Arthur does his best to keep his horror off his face, because it will get them attention, if they don’t have it already. Even though Morgana is making a point of chattering brightly with Gwaine and Elena, he suspects she’ll be watching them very closely now that he’s admitted what he sees in his visions. Besides, he thought they had a tacit agreement to not talk about it. “I’ll be doing it more,” he says, since there’s no use not acknowledging it now that Merlin’s mentioned it.
“Even--” Merlin takes a deep breath. Arthur makes a point of looking bored and staring at his plate. Everyone else is having their own conversations, but they aren’t deaf or stupid. “Even now that we aren’t?”
“Yes. Must we talk about this here?”
He finally risks a look at Merlin just as Merlin looks guiltily around the table. Obviously he doesn’t quite have the hang of stealth. “I suppose not,” he says after giving Gwen an awkward wave as she sits down at the seat closest to the kitchen. “I just didn’t know the next time I would get to see you in person so I wanted to say it while I could.”
Arthurs huffs out a laugh. “You could have asked to meet somewhere in private, you know.”
Merlin raises his eyebrows. “And you’d have come? I find that hard to believe.”
He answers without thinking. “Of course I would have.” When Merlin just blinks at him, it occurs to him just how quickly and firmly he said that, not to mention how much he meant it. “I do have some manners,” he adds to temper it, though he doesn’t think it works well.
Still, Merlin tries valiantly to make it one of their usual conversations, with both of them sniping at each other. Apparently the time for thanks has passed. “You wouldn’t know it from the way you act.”
Arthur rolls his eyes and leans a bit away, since he’s finally realized just how close they were sitting when they were talking about things he’d rather not have the others hear. “Oh, you’re one to talk. I’ve never eaten a meal with you where you haven’t spilled something all over yourself.”
Gwaine’s loud voice interrupts their conversation. “What are you telling secrets about over there? Can anyone join in? Or are they very scandalous?”
“Shut up, Gwaine,” Elyan and Morgana say in unison, and Arthur gives them a pained look. At this rate, the whole group of them is going to know what’s going on before the end of the night, and he really doesn’t want that.
Gwen, bless her, pipes up. “Yes, please do--I mean, not that you aren’t lovely to talk to, but Lancelot and I wanted to talk to you all anyway, that’s why we called you here tonight. Because you’re all our dear friends, and we wanted to tell you all at once so no one would feel slighted. Well, Elyan knows already, but he’s family, so that can’t be helped.” Lancelot takes her hand, and it doesn’t take a Seer to know what’s coming. Arthur glances around the table while Gwen and Lancelot exchange besotted looks; Morgana is smirking, of course, and Elyan is beaming. Leon, Elena, and Gwaine all look varying shades of confused transforming slowly into understanding. Merlin’s smile is growing improbably by the second--clearly Arthur isn’t the only one who remembers that first dinner party with the scrying mirror. “We’ve been trying to get pregnant for a while--since before your party, Morgana, so don’t you start--and the doctor just confirmed it last week. I’m a bit over a month along.”
Elena is the first to react, letting out a shriek and practically falling in Morgana’s lap to throw her arms around Gwen’s neck, and that brings on a celebration that Gwen probably should have started before serving out their food, because everyone is going to end up with gravy all over their clothes if they keep leaning all over the table to hug the happy couple, and then each other when the happy couple is engaged with other people. At least Leon has the sense to stand up and walk around the table to clap Lancelot on the back and kiss Gwen’s cheek.
Everyone exclaiming at each other automatically makes Arthur turn to his right after he’s hugged Gwen and congratulated Lancelot, and he’s face to face with Merlin, uncomfortably close because Merlin was just leaning around Arthur to congratulate Elyan on being an uncle. They’re both grinning, and Arthur hasn’t been this happy in weeks, maybe months, maybe since he sat down behind his desk at Pendragon for the first time, and for a second it feels like one of the visions, like any second Merlin is going to wrap Arthur up in his arms and kiss him for the sheer joy of it and it would all be completely natural. Arthur tilts his head automatically, preparing, and--
Morgana kicks him under the table and Arthur jumps back so quickly he almost falls right into Elyan. He glares at her and she just raises an incredulous eyebrow before going back to talking animatedly with Elena, something about a baby shower that is unlikely to end well. Arthur braces himself and turns back to Merlin--who isn’t looking at him. Instead, he’s turned to his other side, gesticulating at Leon, who’s fighting back a grin, and it’s like nothing even happened, or it would be if Merlin’s ears and the back of his neck weren’t bright red.
“So when did it happen?” Elyan asks under cover of the chatter.
“When did what happen?” Arthur has a suspicion he knows what Elyan means, but he wants to be sure, and it’s a way to stall, at least.
“When did you two finally shag?”
At least he has the decency to ask quietly. Arthur doesn’t see much reason not to answer, although he lowers his voice to no one, not even Merlin on his other side, will be able to hear. “Nearly six weeks ago, if I’m counting right.”
Elyan smirks at him in a manner eerily reminiscent of Morgana. “Damn. Leon won.”
Part Three | Part Four
Merlin’s bedsit is small, but surprisingly clean. “I’d expected it to be a bit of a pigsty,” Arthur admits from the door.
“Magic’s good for cleaning.” Merlin smiles, but it’s tight and awkward. “Come in, would you?” Arthur obeys, since he’s got no particular reason to be difficult, and shucks off his jacket to hang on a peg on the door. There’s a moment of silence. “What made you change your mind?” Merlin asks eventually.
“I went to a Seer’s shop earlier.”
Merlin actually laughs. “You too? I thought the great Arthur Pendragon would be above that sort of nonsense.”
“What did you see, then?” Merlin bites his lip, and Arthur supposes he ought to make some effort as well. He can’t bring himself to explain the whole vision, how much it shakes him that he was planning to propose, and with his mother’s ring, because Merlin won’t understand that. Arthur almost proposed to Sophia years ago, had thought he and Gwen would be together forever once upon a time, had even vaguely considered marrying Vivian, but he’d never even considered asking his father for his mother’s ring. None of them would have been right for it. “I asked you to marry me,” he forces himself to say.
“I took you to meet my mother,” Merlin replies.
Arthur laughs, because the whole thing is absurd. Anyone else would be celebrating seeing this in their future, and he and Merlin are trying desperately to avoid it. He doesn’t even know why Merlin is avoiding it, other than their mutual mostly-cordial dislike, which isn’t holding water much anymore with them working together like this. Perhaps he ought to ask, but then he would have to explain in return, and he’s losing sight of his reasons. “I hope I charmed her,” he says, striving to keep his tone light.
“You dumped your breakfast in the trash when she wasn’t looking,” says Merlin, but he’s smiling. “Mind you, I don’t blame you, my mum’s a bit of a rubbish cook.” He glances at his kitchen, like that reminded him that he has a guest. “Can I get you something to drink?”
No, Arthur should say, we both know why I’m here and we might as well acknowledge it and go straight to the bedroom. “Water would be lovely,” he says instead.
“Gods, you’re posh.” Arthur just rolls his eyes while Merlin goes to the sink and fills a glass from the tap. “Here, hope it’s to your standards.” Just for that, Arthur makes a point of keeping a straight face while he drinks, even though it’s unfiltered and tastes of chemicals. Merlin fidgets while he takes a few gulps, trying to figure out how to do this, and ends up speaking again before Arthur can. “So how are we meant to do this?”
“In the usual fashion, I assume, unless there’s something off about you magic users.”
Merlin smirks. “It’s your first time with a magic user? I’ll be gentle, I promise.”
Arthur wishes suddenly that one of his visions had been of them having sex so he could have proper ammunition to mock Merlin with. “I won’t break.” He eyes Merlin. “And one would think you were scared of me. What are you doing all the way over there?”
The challenge is the right way to do it, it seems, because it brings Merlin over the three or four steps in between them until he’s nearly toe-to-toe with Arthur. Arthur finishes his glass of water and sets it on the nearest flat surface before turning back to Merlin, who is looking at him with uncomfortable intensity. “Shall we?”
Neither of them actually moves. Arthur wants to give up and walk out more by the second, but with this level of awkwardness at least chances are that they’ll never be able to even look at one another again, let alone get married. Still, it isn’t actually going to work if he doesn’t do something. “For the love of--” He holds out his arms. “Come here, would you?”
When Merlin reluctantly gets within arm’s length, Arthur grabs his collar and reels him in, putting him off balance and making him catch himself on Arthur’s chest. Merlin’s mouth falls open to object, and Arthur kisses him. For a second, Merlin’s lips keep moving like he’s trying to talk, but Arthur just slips his tongue inside and it stops.
Merlin, he discovers within moments, is a good kisser (but he knew that already, though things can change in a few years), not sloppy or shy. He frames Arthur’s face with his hands and systematically goes about finding what Arthur likes best while Arthur holds onto his shirt and tries to return the favour.
“This would be much easier in my bedroom,” Merlin whispers a few minutes later, when Arthur pulls away from his lips to taste the curve of his jaw and the line of his neck. Arthur hums and kisses Merlin’s pulse point. Merlin sighs, and it ruffles Arthur’s hair. “That was a hint, in case you didn’t notice.” Arthur nips his ear in retaliation. “Ow! For the record, I may have big ears, but they’re not actually sensitive.”
Arthur pulls away quickly when he remembers the first vision he saw, Merlin laughing like that had become a joke between them. “I’ll try to keep that in mind in future.”
“The future is just tonight, in case you didn’t remember,” snaps Merlin, and Arthur reminds himself that he has no right to take offense. “That’s sort of the point of all this.”
“Fine, show me to the bedroom, then.”
“I was trying,” says Merlin, and grabs him by the hand to tow him across the tiny living room space into the even tinier bedroom, which is barely big enough for a bed and a dresser. “If you say anything, I will absolutely kick you out.”
“And leave us to get married because we die of sexual tension? You’ve got to take one for the team, Merlin.” Merlin just glares and drops Arthur’s hand. “Fine, I’m sorry, I’ll keep my mouth shut.”
Merlin goes through at least five facial expressions, and Arthur doesn’t manage to understand a single one of them. “That would be a first, and at a really inopportune time,” Merlin says at last, with an attempt at a smirk. “Are we going to do this?”
In answer, Arthur starts unbuttoning his shirt, and when he looks up, Merlin is stripping his own off over his head. They undress in relative silence, and it feels wrong. Arthur gives up before he even finishes shoving down his trousers and takes the one step he needs to get into Merlin’s space and take over undoing his belt. “We should do this because we want to,” he says as conversationally as he can manage. Merlin feels much warmer than he ought. “It’s not like this is some sort of great sacrifice. We’ll muddle through, if you don’t want to.”
“If you are just trying to make me admit that I want to shag you,” Merlin starts, and Arthur kisses him silent again. “I’ve been thinking about it, since the first vision,” he continues when Arthur stops to finish with his belt and shimmy his trousers off his hips. “I can’t say I’m not curious.”
“Curious isn’t good enough.”
Merlin kisses him. “Trust you to have an attack of chivalry at the worst moment. Seriously, Arthur. I want to.”
Arthur, for all he tries to be a gentleman, certainly isn’t a saint, so he finishes divesting Merlin of his trousers and pants and then takes off his own while Merlin stumbles his way out of his socks, which he of course left for last because he’s useless. This time, it’s Merlin’s turn to catch him by the shoulder and turn him around, right as Arthur finishes getting his kit off. Arthur rolls his eyes. “What?”
“You want it too, right? That wasn’t you having some massive breakdown and wanting me to back out so you wouldn’t look like an idiot or anything, right?”
“I don’t do anything I don’t want to do.”
“Except marry me, apparently,” says Merlin waspishly, and Arthur kisses him. It’s rapidly becoming his favourite way to shut Merlin up. Merlin kisses back properly, and Arthur grinds their hips together, enjoying the feel of so much naked skin against his own. It’s always been different, being with men--more points of connection, more skin to touch, less cricks in the neck from bending. Merlin, for all he’s thin, is tall too, and all his sharp angles press into Arthur in the right places.
It’s Merlin who tumbles them down onto the bed, but Arthur who manages to twist while they fall to land on top, which gets an annoyed huff out of Merlin. It’s all an illusion, of course, Merlin could have him pinned to the bed in seconds if he wanted it, but Arthur enjoys it while it lasts. He braces himself so he won’t crush Merlin and kisses him hard, with occasional little thrusts of his hips to check on the state of Merlin’s erection. When he’s fully hard and Merlin is starting to make little noises into the kiss, Arthur pulls away, half to speak and half to see Merlin glare at him glassy-eyed. “Unless you have any particular objections, I’m going to blow you.”
“Your mouth,” says Merlin, which is quite answer enough.
Arthur kisses him one more time, just because he looks a bit bewildered, and then moves on to his goal.
Merlin grabs onto Arthur’s hair and holds there after the first lick, and his grip gets progressively tighter as Arthur explores every inch of his cock with tongue and lips before closing his mouth around it and sucking. It’s been a while, so he doesn’t go very deep at first, but it doesn’t seem to matter much to Merlin, who’s quiet but squirming against the hold Arthur has on his hips, tugging on Arthur’s hair with every movement. Arthur pulls off when one particular trick he remembers from uni makes Merlin gag him and actually pull out a few hairs at the same time. “I don’t want to be bald when I’m thirty, thank you.”
In answer, Merlin moves his hands to the back of Arthur’s neck and pushes until Arthur takes him in his mouth again, moving slowly down until he’s taken as much as he can and then humming. Merlin’s hands tighten convulsively at his neck, which is only marginally better than the hair-pulling. He doesn’t object. It’s good. He doesn’t know what the difference is from Vivian--from everyone he’s had in the past five years, really--but it’s good.
Merlin comes without warning (well, in retrospect the hand moving back to his hair and tugging desperately might have been an attempt at that, but he was rather distracted with the taste of salt and precum and the way Merlin’s whole body was was just trembling like he was about to burst), filling Arthur’s mouth with more than he’s prepared for. He pulls off so he doesn’t gag and spits what he can’t swallow off the edge of the bed while Merlin finishes with a grunt, catching Arthur’s neck and shoulder as he twists.
“I have to clean that in the morning,” says Merlin.
“Oh, shut it, you’ve got magic,” Arthur replies, and then Merlin is dragging him up the bed, since apparently he doesn’t need to recover after an orgasm. Arthur was expecting to have to finish himself off, since Merlin is useless, but that thought lasts about as long as it takes for Merlin to wrap his long fingers around Arthur’s erection before it disappears into a haze of heat. He doesn’t think Merlin’s using magic, but he’s honestly not sure, and it doesn’t take long to finish off. Merlin bends down afterwards and licks him clean, probably to prove a point. Arthur doesn’t mind. He’s nearly asleep.
Merlin comes back up to join him on the pillow when he’s done and runs his hands through Arthur’s hair, smoothing it down. “You can stay the night, if you want.”
“Excellent,” says Arthur, and dozes off.
The morning is … strange. Arthur wakes up tangled up in what seems like far too many limbs for them both having the requisite number, and even though they’re both hard, Merlin makes no move to do anything about it. He just smiles at Arthur and thanks him for the night. Arthur, who was about to suggest breakfast at least, finds himself standing on the other side of Merlin’s door in what feels like no time at all. “I’ll let you know if anything’s changed,” says Merlin with what’s got to be false cheer, and shuts the door.
Arthur stares at it for far too long, and only leaves when one of Merlin’s neighbours comes out of his flat and gives Arthur a funny sidelong look. When he gets home, he resists the urge to either go back to Taliesin’s or to call one of his friends to moan about how confused he is. The former is a bit of a terrifying thought, and for the latter he’d have to call Elyan, and he expects no sympathy whatsoever from that quarter.
Instead, he very carefully stops thinking about Merlin and whether they’re still getting married and why the hell he thought sex would make it go away when it’s just twisted him up all in knots. He goes for a run instead, and spends the afternoon with work reports that aren’t due for nearly two weeks. By the time Morgana calls in the evening and asks what’s wrong, he can lie convincingly enough to put her off the scent.
*
Arthur almost doesn’t pick up his phone when he sees Merlin’s name on his screen. They’ve been doing a very good job of not acknowledging one another’s existence in the month since they had sex, despite everyone’s best efforts, and he doesn’t particularly feel like breaking that record. Still, if Merlin is calling, he must have a good reason. Arthur answers the phone just before it goes to voicemail. “Hello?”
“I need your help,” says Merlin.
If he was expecting anything, it would have been a belated update after visiting a Seer and seeing if they’d managed to change the future. Merlin’s tone seems a bit off for that, though. “What’s the matter?”
“There’s a girl who works at your father’s company. Her name is Freya, and she’s--”
“One of the best workers we’ve got,” says Arthur automatically, because she does the data entry for his team and he does her performance reviews. “Nice, if shy.”
“Your father is going to fire her, and she can’t afford that.” Merlin doesn’t need to explain why. “I know it’s a long shot, but I had to ask if you can try to save her job. She doesn’t--he found out through her medical history. She got cursed when she was younger and got noted as a magic user on her records.”
Arthur hears a story or two like it every year. The company employs quite a lot of people, and sometimes when they can’t find another option a magic user will quietly join up. When they’re found out, their contracts are broken for one reason or another, nothing overtly related to their magic. He doesn’t like it, and there’s at least one magic user working at the company because Arthur falsified his records when his father went on a witchhunt, but there’s no way of making his father keep a worker once he starts suspecting magic. “I’ll do what I can,” he says, even though he knows he can’t do much.
“That’s all I want. I just … I couldn’t stand by when I know the one person who might be able to do something.”
“Thank you for trusting me to try, then.” He coughs. “I’ll try to have arrangements available for if it doesn’t work. You may tell her so.”
“You don’t need to do that. There are options for her.”
“The offer stands.” Arthur stares at his laptop screen and the numbers he’s been crunching on his couch. The whole mess with Merlin and the future has been good for his productivity at work, he can say at least that much for it. “I’ll have to figure out how to make him want to keep her on. He’ll just find a way around discrimination laws, he always does.”
“We get more of that sort of thing than you’d think, in the community. Let me know if you want connections.” He pauses. “Or Morgana, I suppose.”
“Yes, I ought to go to Morgana. Don’t want to bother you.”
There’s silence for so long that Arthur starts to wonder if the call has been dropped. “It’s not like I hate you,” Merlin says abruptly just as Arthur is about to hang up and think about trying again. “I just don’t much fancy being blackmailed by the future.”
“And you and I have nothing in common,” Arthur adds.
“And the in-laws would be terrifying.”
“And you--” Arthur sighs. “It just wouldn’t work. And I don’t much fancy being blackmailed either. I haven’t gone to a Seer’s shop since that night, to see. Have you?”
“Things have been busy.”
“That’s no problem. I just thought I would ask.” The conversation is starting to remind him of the ones he had with his father for the first six months after he was photographed snogging a man, not in the level of disapproval but in the huge fucking elephant in the room. “Well. I’ll keep you updated on the situation with Freya, and call if I have any issues.” Awkwardness with Merlin will be far easier to deal with than Morgana’s smugness.
“Thank you again, Arthur. I hope you can work something out.”
“So do I,” says Arthur, and hangs up before they can descend into silence again.
The next morning, he goes early to the office and takes the long way, and passes by Taliesin’s on his way. He’s walked by a few times since he went in, but this is the first time he’s considered trying again, seeing if they’ve made a difference. He doesn’t know what he would do either way, though, so he continues on to the office.
As he’d hoped, only Freya and a few other workers are in his department when he gets there. She jumps to her feet when she sees him, like she’s preparing to run, but she doesn’t object when he gestures her into his office and shuts the door. “Merlin was short on details last night,” he says when she’s standing before him like she’s expecting a firing squad, and enjoys the way she relaxes all at once. “Does my father already know you’re a magic user, or will we have time to fix your records before he comings in for the morning?”
“He knows, he just hasn’t talked to me yet. His secretary called down last night after he left to apologize for sending the records on before checking them.” She twists her hands together. “We still haven’t figured out what made him suspect me in the first place. I think it’s that I had a migraine last week and went to the company clinic. They pulled up my records then, and probably one of the doctors is loyal enough to tell.”
Arthur wonders if his father realizes that nearly everyone in his company is just waiting for him to retire and working against him as best they can. Even his son. “If he knows for sure, chances are large you won’t be able to stay in this office.”
Freya looks more than a bit panicked. “I know what happens to people who get fired from Pendragon for having magic. Not many will hire them.” She looks down. “Us.”
“We’ve got a few options.” He makes his voice as calming as possible, though he can’t say he’s good at it. That’s always been more Leon and Elena’s purview. Pity neither of them works at Pendragon anymore. “We can falsify your performance records before my father calls them up to find an excuse to fire you and I can strongly imply that you’re as much of a harridan as my sister and will run straight to Nimueh Lake and the other pro-magic activists to cry discrimination. That won’t keep you on, but it likely will give you a good severance package so you’ll have more time to try to find work.”
“And how would I find it? Merlin’s offered to help, but he’s taking courses and interning and the social services for magic users are pretty overloaded, thanks to--”
“My father,” Arthur finishes when she turns pink and stops talking. “I’ll write you a reference, of course. Not many people would turn you away if I did that, although word would get back to my father.”
“I don’t want to get you in trouble.”
Arthur shrugs. “I’ve been in worse, and will be in worse, I’m sure.” He thinks of conversations with Merlin in the future. This won’t be the last person he tries to save someone from his father’s bigotry. That, he vows silently, won’t change no matter whether he marries Merlin or not. “The only other option I can think of is a bit of a long shot, but I might be able to pull it off. However, it would require you leaving London.”
Freya puts it together without having to ask. “You think you could get him to send me to the new Wales office?”
“Like I said, it’s a long shot, but if I say the right things about diversity hires and just keeping you away from where you can do any harm … it’s cheaper to live, over there. But I know you might not want to leave your friends and family.”
Arthur looks away and boots up his computer for the day. He’s put in his password and gone searching for her files to do what good he can when she finally speaks. “If you can transfer me to Wales, I would appreciate that. It’s a steady job, and I haven’t got much here.”
It’s none of his business, so he just nods and busies himself with her file, cursing his inability to be comforting. For once, he actually wants Merlin around. He knows Freya and it’s his job to be nice to people. “I’ll do my best to remove any references to magic that I can find outside of your medical file, then. I don’t think there are many. Now, if you like, we can get started on your work.” Freya flees before he can say anything else.
When his father arrives after a breakfast meeting, Arthur gives him twenty minutes before going up to visit his office. His father gives him a pleased smile. “Ah, Arthur, saves me having to send for you. I have to talk to you about a member of your team.”
Arthur shuts the door. “Freya, yes, I heard. That’s why I came to see you, actually.”
Uther gives him the gimlet glare that makes other businessmen shake in their boots. “Just because the girl is on your team doesn’t make her any less a user of magic. She can’t be trusted and she will be laid off just like all the others.”
“If you say so.” Arthur calls up every trick he knows after twenty-six years of dealing with his father. “I had an alternate idea, but if you insist, I’ll start going through her records for an excuse. It won’t be easy. She’s punctual, efficient, and cooperative. I’ve never had a problem on one of her reviews.”
“What sort of alternate idea, Arthur?”
He shrugs, carefully indifferent. “The Wales office is short-staffed at the moment, is all. She’s indicated in the past that she’s willing to move for the company. I was thinking of recommending her for a placement there before.” That’s a blatant lie, since he would be mad to send Freya away when she does some of the best work in his department, but his father might believe it.
“Why should I send her to Wales? Why should I keep her on at all?”
“For all I’m sure Aredian will pull ahead and win the elections, it might not hurt to make a concession or two in case Lakewins. She’ll take it as a sign of good faith and won’t be searching up every imagined infraction like she otherwise might.” Nimueh Lake, Arthur discovered thanks to Morgana, was a school friend of his mother’s, and talk of her usually makes his father listen for at least a few seconds. “And putting Freya in Wales will keep her away from the center of things so she won’t be able to sabotage main operations.” Any more will just make his father suspicious. “Anyway, I suppose it’s your choice. Just a thought. Now, I was wondering if the deadline for the numbers on the Mercia project could be moved back a day, since we’ll need time to find someone new to do the data entry.”
“I’ll consider your proposition about Wales. It’s always good to have the government on our side. And the Mercia figures are needed not a single hour after I’ve asked for them, Arthur, as always. You’ll find a way to do it.”
“Yes, sir,” says Arthur, and goes back to his department to wait for the results of his chat.
Freya gets called up to Uther’s office around midday, and at four o’clock the e-mail comes to his department congratulating her in very terse language for her promotion and near-immediate departure for Wales. Arthur makes a point of having a conference call in his office with the door closed while everyone else on his team swarms her desk, asking why they hadn’t heard about the move. He stays there until after she’s out of the office for a day.
That doesn’t stop Merlin calling while Arthur is walking back from work, the quick way this time. “Freya says you sorted it for her, and then disappeared so she couldn’t thank you.”
“She shouldn’t. She’s still being moved to bloody Wales, and besides, if she thanks me, my father will realize that I did something.”
“Then I’ll thank you. You did a lot better for her than most people in her situation get.”
“I only wish I could do it more often.”
“You will.” Merlin pauses, then clears his throat when Arthur doesn’t offer up a comment at that. Arthur just keeps walking. “Not because I saw it or anything. Because I think you would anyway.”
“Thank you.”
“I went to a Seer’s shop on my way to work this morning,” says Merlin out of nowhere, and Arthur catches his breath. “Because you seemed curious, and I didn’t think you’d go, so I thought perhaps it would be a return for the favour with Freya.”
“And?”
“Well, we aren’t together anymore.” Arthur wishes he could see Merlin’s face; most of the time it’s much easier to read than his voice. “Five years in the future, at least, we aren’t. I don’t know about what you’ll be doing then, you weren’t in the vision.”
There isn’t a polite question to ask, in the situation. Arthur asks one nonetheless. “You, though. You’re happy?”
“Sure I am.” Merlin laughs, but it doesn’t sound terribly convincing, and there’s a note in his voice that Arthur doesn’t recognize. “I’m not shackled to you, at least. Working the job I want to work.”
“Good. That’s … good.” He reaches his apartment building. “I’ve got to go. I suppose I’ll see you around.”
“Yes. Gwen and Lancelot are having us all for dinner soon and I don’t think either of us can miss. I’m betting they’re announcing her being pregnant.”
“I’ll see you then.”
“Sure.” Arthur nearly ends the call when he hears Merlin say his name again. “Thank you again,” he says. “Freya and I both appreciate it.”
“No problem,” says Arthur, and hangs up.
*
Arthur tells himself he isn’t going into Taliesin’s right until he walks through the door. But he’s curious about the tone of Merlin’s voice on the phone last night--was he lying? Was he less happy in that future than he wanted to seem?--so he takes the turn off the street at the last minute and pushes the door open.
Again, Taliesin is at the counter, and he raises an eyebrow in recognition. “Your fortune didn’t please you last time, so you’ve come for another?”
“Better to ask you than my sister. Might we get started quickly? I’ve got to get to work after this.”
Taliesin stands up. “To the back room, then.” Arthur follows and watches again as Taliesin looks around the room of crystals. He picks one from an entirely different shelf this time. “This one’s a bit of a wildcard sometimes,” he warns before he hands it to Arthur. “But it’s tuned itself about four years in the future for you, and it should answer the question on your mind.”
“Thank you.” Arthur takes it and looks inside.
“--proud of you,” Morgana is saying, words she’s certainly never directed at him before. They seem to be at some sort of party--not many people he knows, besides her, but he thinks he sees Nimueh Lake across the room.
“It’s not like I’m the Prime Minister or anything, Morgana. I barely live off the wages I get in the Magic Users’ Office.” Arthur-in-the-future waves at someone across the room, someone Arthur doesn’t know now.
“You’re going in the right direction, though. I knew it would do you good to quit Pendragon.”
“It’s not that I had much choice.” From the way Morgana is staying close, it looks like he’s invited her to this function as his date. He tries very hard not to be horrified by that. “It was that or be shipped out to bloody Wales, and I couldn’t do much good there.”
For the first time, Arthur wishes he could take control of his future self, so he could ask Morgana what prompted his departure from Pendragon. Did his father find out about his attempts to help people like Freya? Did he stand up to him? Where’s Merlin and why is it that Arthur was still working at Pendragon when they were married but isn’t now? She couldn’t answer that last, but he wants to know anyway. “We would all miss you if you went to Wales anyway,” says Morgana. “Well, not Morgause.”
“Or Merlin,” says Arthur-in-the-future, too lightly, and Arthur winces.
She gives him the same uncomfortably intense look that she does now when he isn’t telling her something. “I don’t know why you can’t get along. It’s been years since you shagged.”
“We did not shag.”
“You are a dirty liar and you--”
Arthur puts the crystal down. Taliesin is just watching, head cocked, but he speaks when he realizes Arthur’s come out of his trance. “You got the answer you wanted the first time.”
“I suppose I did.” And it’s a good life, when he thinks about it. Out from under his father’s thumb, working his way to make a difference in politics for the magic users he’s starting to want to help. Still friends with Morgana and with most of his other friends. But when he compares the vague contentment with an undercurrent of anxiety from this most recent future with the love and security of the others he’s seen, it doesn’t feel like he got the right answer. Maybe it’s why Merlin sounded so unsure on the phone: he said he had everything he wanted, but maybe there wasn’t that feeling behind it all that made Arthur come out of the visions near-breathless before. “I was starting to think the other future was inevitable. Bit of a shock to see that it’s not.”
“There are things that are meant to be, but that doesn’t mean they’ll happen, if you try hard enough to stop them.”
Perhaps he should know this. Morgana talked about it enough, when she was first learning, how she had to remind herself that not everything would come true, or come true the way she thought that it would. Still, three different futures at different times showed him married to Merlin and he doesn’t know what changed it at last. Was it Merlin kicking him out of bed followed by a month of no contact? Or were they finally determined enough? “And what happens if something that’s meant to be doesn’t happen?”
Taliesin shrugs. “Perhaps nothing much. Perhaps a great deal. What have you changed?”
“I’m no longer marrying someone.”
“And do you love her?”
Arthur doesn’t bother correcting him. “Not yet. That’s why we were trying to change it. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got to go. The same amount as last time, I assume?”
“You would be right.” Arthur rummages in his wallet and pays the fee before walking out, leaving Taliesin in the back room.
He should go directly to the office. He’ll be a bit early, but not too much so, and it would be prudent to toe the line for a while in case defending Freya made his father suspicious of his loyalties. There are still people to help, so he can’t leave yet, and it’s best to stay on his father’s good side.
Instead, though, he stops off in a small seedy park, more of a lawn with a fountain, just off the street with the Seer’s shop, and calls Morgana. “This had better be good, I’ve got a big project at work this week and I haven’t got time for nonsense,” she says when she picks up the phone.
“Caller ID has made your greetings so much less polite.” He can almost hear her roll her eyes and prepare to say something scathing. “I’ll cut to the chase, I promise. Do you ever dream about me?”
“I had a dream last week that you were wearing a hedgehog as a hat, but I suspect that’s not what you mean,” she says dryly. “If you mean prophetic dreams then yes, of course. I dream about all my friends and family sometimes, and you aren’t the exception.”
“What have you seen?”
Morgana sounds wary when she answers, and the background noise has faded some. “What’s the matter, Arthur? You never ask me questions about magic.”
“I’ll tell you after. Just tell me what you see when you dream about me.”
She sighs. “It depends, but I think I know what you’re after, since Merlin tried oh-so-casually to bring it up as well.” Arthur winces, but at least he isn’t alone in wondering. “I’ve seen you two together--married, even--on and off practically since you’ve met.”
“On and off?”
“Mostly on, to be honest, and sometimes I see one of you doing something at work or with other friends and it’s impossible to know, but yes, sometimes you aren’t, before you start getting stroppy about that. Nothing stays exactly the same over such a long span of time.” So it could be chance that he and Merlin keep seeing themselves married, or it could be “meant to be.” “Tell me why you’re asking.”
He hadn’t told her, in the future he just saw. But that’s something easily enough changed by choices. “At your flat, those two times, and another time besides that, Merlin and I saw ourselves getting married. And we’ve been trying to change that.”
“That explains why you’re avoiding each other so much. Gwaine and Elena and I were discussing why that might be the other day, but we figured it was just because you’d finally given in and shagged and were embarrassed about it.”
In for a penny, in for a pound. “Well, that too.” Morgana starts laughing, and he has to nearly shout into the phone to get her to stop, hoping all the while that nobody passing is actually paying attention. “We thought it might prevent us getting together.”
“That sounds like Merlin-logic,” she says in between giggles. “Why are you telling me now? Didn’t it work? Or should I be buying the two of you a china service?”
“It worked.”
Something in his tone stops her laughing. “Oh, Arthur.”
“I didn’t call you for pity.”
“I know you didn’t. What did you call for?”
“Confirmation, I suppose.” To see if she thought they were destiny or if it were just something that happened more often than not for whatever reason. “Anyway, I’ve got to go, I’m late for the office.”
“Fix it, Arthur.” He sighs and opens his mouth to tell her that nothing needs fixing, his life will be just the same in four years only he won’t be at his father’s beck and call any longer. “If you called me, it means you didn’t like what you saw. So fix it.” With that, she hangs up before he can, leaving Arthur to walk to the office.
Freya accosts him almost the second he’s through the door, ten minutes late. Everyone on his team stops to stare, probably because they think he’s more his father’s son than he is. “In my office,” he snaps. She follows without a word and waits while he puts down his briefcase and tries to put his morning trip to Taliesin’s and his call with Morgana out of his mind. “You don’t have to say anything,” he says at last. “It was the very least I could do.”
“It wasn’t, though. Merlin says he thanked you already for me, but I do want to say it for myself. It’s not everyone who would put his neck on the line just because his boyfriend asked for a favour.”
He doesn’t bother asking where she got the impression he and Merlin are dating; Merlin wouldn’t have told her, and that’s what matters. He just sighs and shakes his head. “Merlin and I aren’t together. We just know each other, is all, and he thought I might be able to help. Anyone with the ability and a conscience would have done the same.”
She blushes. “I’m sorry, I just assumed. He seemed so certain that you would help, and other than Vivian, we don’t hear much about what you do outside the office.”
At least she isn’t a Seer. “It’s fine, Freya. Natural assumption. It’s all fine.” And sometime he’ll give himself time to wonder why Merlin, who’s forever needling him for being his father’s son and not doing anything for magic users, believed that Arthur would help when he made that phone call. “I’m only sorry I couldn’t keep you in the office. I can’t imagine anyone else doing such good work.”
“I’ll be doing much the same at Wales. Tomorrow’s my last day.”
“Good luck, then.”
Freya just looks at him for a few seconds, intent, before speaking again. “Thank you again. And I’m sorry about making assumptions.”
He isn’t thinking about it, not at work. There’s been too much thought about it over the past few days anyway, and Arthur wants to be at home, not at the office, when he starts facing the fact that he was far happier when he thought he was going to marry Merlin. “No problem. Best of luck in Wales, if we don’t talk again.”
She takes that as the dismissal it is, and leaves him alone in his office to get his mind back on his work.
*
Merlin is late to dinner at Gwen’s, and by the time he gets there, Morgana, Elena and Gwaine have all been giving Arthur accusing looks for at least five minutes and even Gwen asked if they’d had a fight (“not that I think you can’t act like adults or anything, but you’ve been avoiding each other lately”). Elyan just sits back looking exasperated.
However, Merlin comes in looking just as cheerful and disorganized as ever, hair in a mess and a sheepish grin already on his face. “My mother called,” he explains when Elena scolds him. “I hadn’t talked to her in a while, or I would have been here sooner.”
“Dinner’s ready,” says Gwen, once she’s taken Merlin’s coat and kissed his cheek. “A few more minutes and we would have had to start without you.”
Somehow (Arthur suspects Morgana, although she doesn’t make any overt moves so he can’t be sure), Arthur winds up shepherded to a seat next to Merlin when they all seat themselves around Gwen’s big round table. It’s awkward for all of thirty seconds while everyone else settles down and Gwen and Lancelot start serving up dinner, and then Merlin blindsides him with a smile. Not one of his huge grins, but a smile nonetheless. “Freya said you seemed uncomfortable, but I did want to thank you in person.”
“It’s the least I could do,” he says, and holds out his plate for Gwen to dish some roast onto it. When Merlin opens his mouth, probably to politely disagree, he shakes his head. “I know you persist in thinking I’m a younger, better-looking version of my father, but I do actually have a heart.”
“I don’t think that. I wouldn’t have called you in the first place if I thought that.” Merlin’s so intent on him that Morgana has to snap her fingers in his face before he stops leaning all over his plate and lets Gwen give him food. When the scrutiny is off them, he speaks again. “I just know how hard it is for you to go against him. Better than I did before, I mean.”
Arthur does his best to keep his horror off his face, because it will get them attention, if they don’t have it already. Even though Morgana is making a point of chattering brightly with Gwaine and Elena, he suspects she’ll be watching them very closely now that he’s admitted what he sees in his visions. Besides, he thought they had a tacit agreement to not talk about it. “I’ll be doing it more,” he says, since there’s no use not acknowledging it now that Merlin’s mentioned it.
“Even--” Merlin takes a deep breath. Arthur makes a point of looking bored and staring at his plate. Everyone else is having their own conversations, but they aren’t deaf or stupid. “Even now that we aren’t?”
“Yes. Must we talk about this here?”
He finally risks a look at Merlin just as Merlin looks guiltily around the table. Obviously he doesn’t quite have the hang of stealth. “I suppose not,” he says after giving Gwen an awkward wave as she sits down at the seat closest to the kitchen. “I just didn’t know the next time I would get to see you in person so I wanted to say it while I could.”
Arthurs huffs out a laugh. “You could have asked to meet somewhere in private, you know.”
Merlin raises his eyebrows. “And you’d have come? I find that hard to believe.”
He answers without thinking. “Of course I would have.” When Merlin just blinks at him, it occurs to him just how quickly and firmly he said that, not to mention how much he meant it. “I do have some manners,” he adds to temper it, though he doesn’t think it works well.
Still, Merlin tries valiantly to make it one of their usual conversations, with both of them sniping at each other. Apparently the time for thanks has passed. “You wouldn’t know it from the way you act.”
Arthur rolls his eyes and leans a bit away, since he’s finally realized just how close they were sitting when they were talking about things he’d rather not have the others hear. “Oh, you’re one to talk. I’ve never eaten a meal with you where you haven’t spilled something all over yourself.”
Gwaine’s loud voice interrupts their conversation. “What are you telling secrets about over there? Can anyone join in? Or are they very scandalous?”
“Shut up, Gwaine,” Elyan and Morgana say in unison, and Arthur gives them a pained look. At this rate, the whole group of them is going to know what’s going on before the end of the night, and he really doesn’t want that.
Gwen, bless her, pipes up. “Yes, please do--I mean, not that you aren’t lovely to talk to, but Lancelot and I wanted to talk to you all anyway, that’s why we called you here tonight. Because you’re all our dear friends, and we wanted to tell you all at once so no one would feel slighted. Well, Elyan knows already, but he’s family, so that can’t be helped.” Lancelot takes her hand, and it doesn’t take a Seer to know what’s coming. Arthur glances around the table while Gwen and Lancelot exchange besotted looks; Morgana is smirking, of course, and Elyan is beaming. Leon, Elena, and Gwaine all look varying shades of confused transforming slowly into understanding. Merlin’s smile is growing improbably by the second--clearly Arthur isn’t the only one who remembers that first dinner party with the scrying mirror. “We’ve been trying to get pregnant for a while--since before your party, Morgana, so don’t you start--and the doctor just confirmed it last week. I’m a bit over a month along.”
Elena is the first to react, letting out a shriek and practically falling in Morgana’s lap to throw her arms around Gwen’s neck, and that brings on a celebration that Gwen probably should have started before serving out their food, because everyone is going to end up with gravy all over their clothes if they keep leaning all over the table to hug the happy couple, and then each other when the happy couple is engaged with other people. At least Leon has the sense to stand up and walk around the table to clap Lancelot on the back and kiss Gwen’s cheek.
Everyone exclaiming at each other automatically makes Arthur turn to his right after he’s hugged Gwen and congratulated Lancelot, and he’s face to face with Merlin, uncomfortably close because Merlin was just leaning around Arthur to congratulate Elyan on being an uncle. They’re both grinning, and Arthur hasn’t been this happy in weeks, maybe months, maybe since he sat down behind his desk at Pendragon for the first time, and for a second it feels like one of the visions, like any second Merlin is going to wrap Arthur up in his arms and kiss him for the sheer joy of it and it would all be completely natural. Arthur tilts his head automatically, preparing, and--
Morgana kicks him under the table and Arthur jumps back so quickly he almost falls right into Elyan. He glares at her and she just raises an incredulous eyebrow before going back to talking animatedly with Elena, something about a baby shower that is unlikely to end well. Arthur braces himself and turns back to Merlin--who isn’t looking at him. Instead, he’s turned to his other side, gesticulating at Leon, who’s fighting back a grin, and it’s like nothing even happened, or it would be if Merlin’s ears and the back of his neck weren’t bright red.
“So when did it happen?” Elyan asks under cover of the chatter.
“When did what happen?” Arthur has a suspicion he knows what Elyan means, but he wants to be sure, and it’s a way to stall, at least.
“When did you two finally shag?”
At least he has the decency to ask quietly. Arthur doesn’t see much reason not to answer, although he lowers his voice to no one, not even Merlin on his other side, will be able to hear. “Nearly six weeks ago, if I’m counting right.”
Elyan smirks at him in a manner eerily reminiscent of Morgana. “Damn. Leon won.”
Part Three | Part Four