The Future Soon (4/4)
Part One | Part Two | Part Three
“So,” Arthur asks when he and Merlin have been staring at each other over the doorstep of Merlin’s building for a good minute and they haven’t got much beyond “hello,” “what are you in the mood to eat this evening?”
That seems to be Merlin’s cue to step out and shut the building door. “There’s a nice little place a few streets over, they do a good ravioli.”
“Ravioli it is, then,” says Arthur, and stuffs his hands in his pockets as Merlin starts leading them down the street. “Thank you for agreeing to come out. I didn’t want to be on my own, and anyone else would have made it a group occasion.”
Merlin shoots him a quick sideways glance and then goes back to staring at the pavement. “You aren’t feeling very celebratory, then?”
“I don’t feel as if it’s hit me quite yet.” He hasn’t checked his e-mail since he sent in his resignation, but he made the mistake of listening to the message his father left on his answer phone when he went back to his flat to change and drop off his things, and it was a rant on betrayal and family that the beep cut off midway through. His mobile has been silent since Merlin called, but Arthur doesn’t expect that to last long if he keeps ignoring his father at every turn, which is his current strategy. “I imagine that tomorrow morning I’ll wake up either wanting to shoot off fireworks or ready to panic. We’ll have to see which.”
Merlin reaches out and squeezes his elbow before letting his hand drop. “Is it kind of weird and creepy if I say that I’m really proud of you?”
Arthur can’t help laughing at that, just a bit. “Maybe, but it’s good to hear so I don’t much care. I imagine I’ll get it from Morgana as well, but she’ll just sound smug about it.”
“She sounds smug about most things. Gwen might say it, she tends to be good at things like that.”
They’ll all think it, he’s relatively sure, in some form or other. It’s part of what’s getting him through the day. Gwaine will laugh at him, Leon will wrinkle his brows and get worried, Elyan will roll his eyes, Elena will flutter awkwardly about, Lancelot will be very serious about it, Gwen will get teary-eyed, and Morgana will get smug, but they’ll all be pleased and proud. “I’m glad to hear it from you, though,” he says at last, when Merlin gives him a questioning look and he realizes they’ve gone half a block without him saying a word.
“Any reaction from your father?” Merlin asks.
“Nothing good, and I haven’t even checked my e-mail. I imagine I’ll hear a great deal over the next few months, and even when he cools down he won’t let me forget it. If he cools down. I don’t know, he mentioned disowning me when he left a message earlier, but I don’t think he actually would.”
Arthur doesn’t have to look at Merlin to imagine the wince, and when Merlin speaks again he sounds painfully cheerful. “Well, on the bright side, you’ve still got me.” He coughs. “And all of us.”
“That will be a great comfort to me while I’m unemployed, thank you.”
Merlin catches his arm and tows him down a side street when Arthur doesn’t see him turn. “You won’t be unemployed. You may not have a plan just yet, but I don’t imagine that will last very long.”
“I suppose not. Aren’t I allowed a few hours to wallow, though?”
“Oh, right, of course, I didn’t mean to--”
“Merlin.” Arthur puts his hand over Merlin’s on his arm and nearly trips when Merlin stops instantly to look at him. “I was joking. It’s all right.”
“Oh.” Merlin starts them walking again, and drops Arthur’s arm when he moves his hand. Arthur tries not to be discouraged by that--he doesn’t have any illusions that figuring out whatever this is going to be between them will be a fast or easy process. “I’ll still try to keep my advice about your future to a minimum. It’s a side effect of the degree, you know, wanting to help everyone.”
“I may not have known you before you went to university, Merlin, but I am absolutely certain that you wanting to help people started long before you started your degree.”
At that, Merlin actually laughs. “My mother could tell you stories, I’m sure. I had a bit of a tendency for bringing home stray animals. And Will, who’s nearly a stray animal himself.”
“I’ve heard you mention him a few times. Childhood friend?”
“And partner in crime, and first boyfriend, and part-time agony aunt. He still lives back home.” Merlin grins. “Though he gets up to so much trouble without me that I sometimes wonder if he’s going to get run out of town on a rail. Hopefully my mother will prevent that.”
“You two must have been the terror of the village,” Arthur offers, to see how long he can keep the smile on Merlin’s face. Besides, for all he’s known Merlin for years he doesn’t know much about his past and it seems as good a time as any to talk about it.
“Pretty sure we were responsible for every hair on old Mr. Simmons’s head turning white. And then for him losing it all.”
Arthur prompts him to talk about it more, and the conversation lasts for the few blocks to the restaurant, which is in a narrow building in between an art gallery and a little boutique. They are, he realizes a few seconds later, only a block or two down from Taliesin’s; he just usually comes at it from the other direction. He allows himself one second to wonder if that’s the shop where Merlin went the time he saw them apart, and then shakes off the thought. “Shall we go in?”
The waitress greets Merlin by name and gives Arthur a funny sideways look that probably means she’s wondering where she recognizes him from (and for all he’s used to being recognized for standing behind his father trying to look interested at press conferences, he really hopes that doesn’t happen tonight), and seats them at the best table in the house, not that there are many tables. Arthur stares at the wine list and Merlin in turns, trying to figure out what the next topic of conversation ought to be.
Merlin, to his surprise, is the one who starts talking first. “So, I’m guessing you don’t want to be this whole night about you quitting, right?” Arthur nods. “Okay, then.” The pause after that goes on long enough that Arthur wonders if he’s going to have to come up with something after all, and then Merlin lets out an exasperated sigh. “You know, for how often we see each other, one would think I would know you better.”
“Believe me, I’m feeling much the same, but I suppose that’s what this meal is supposed to change.” He smiles. “Although I refuse to ask you your favourite colour, that would be a bit too much.”
That, thankfully, loosens things up. They talk more about Merlin’s life growing up in Ealdor, about his mother and Will and his Uncle Gaius who lives in the city, and the constant parade of animals going through their little farm, including a tamed deer if Merlin is to be believed. When that subject is exhausted, long after the waitress has come by to bring them their wine and take their orders for food (two orders of ravioli, since it comes highly recommended), Arthur talks about his family a bit. Not about his father, but about Morgana and Morgause and how exactly they’re related to him, since it’s easy to get confused.
From there, they move on to music and movies and why Nimueh Lake is almost sure to win the elections and a hundred other subjects, and it’s nowhere near as awkward as Arthur had feared it might be. By the time dessert is served, he’s feeling brave enough to offer Merlin a bite of cheesecake off his fork, and Merlin, with a raised eyebrow, takes it and offers Arthur a taste of chocolate cake in return. Arthur can’t keep the grin off his face for the rest of the meal.
It’s half past nine by the time they leave, Arthur refusing to let Merlin so much as look at the bill (although it’s quite reasonable, far more so than anywhere Vivian made him take her), and the walk back to Merlin’s building is slow and quiet, though this time the silence doesn’t feel awkward. As they get closer to Merlin’s building, though, Arthur starts feeling first-date jitters like he hasn’t had in years, which is ridiculous, as they aren’t even on a date, at least not an official one, even if Arthur would like to count it as such. Should he kiss Merlin at the door? Should he offer to do it again sometime?
He still hasn’t figured it out by the time they stop at the doorway of Merlin’s building and stand there stupidly for a bit. “Thank you for a lovely evening,” he says at last. “It’s ended my day far better than I was expecting it to end before you called.”
“I’m glad. Nobody should have to do something like that alone.”
“Well, I’ve got you. And the others, like you said earlier. I’ll probably tell Morgana later, and she’ll give everyone else the gossip on my behalf.”
“Right.” Merlin nods a few times, and then practically lunges forward to wrap Arthur in a hug so tight it almost hurts. “Just--call me if you think I can help?” he whispers right in Arthur’s ear.
Arthur, after a startled moment, gives him a little squeeze in return. “Definitely.”
Merlin pulls back, but not all the way, and Arthur wonders if he’s going to kiss him and leans just a few millimeters forward to try to encourage him. Instead, Merlin lets go of him and takes a step back. “Good luck talking to Morgana, and I’ll talk to you soon.”
With that, he fumbles out his keys and ducks into his building while Arthur is still standing on the doorstep wondering what the hell just happened.
*
When Merlin calls at eleven that night, ten minutes after Arthur gets off the phone with Morgana, he doesn’t even let Arthur get a greeting out before he starts talking. “So, I’m thinking I probably should have kissed you earlier, at the door, and maybe you would have come up, but honestly I’m a little confused right now so I’m not sure.”
Arthur swallows around something that he’s pretty sure would have come out as a nervous giggle. “I’d rather hoped you might,” he says in the closest approximation he can get of his usual even tone. “But there’s always next time.”
“Is there? Because like I said, I’m confused. That … that was a date, right? I wasn’t imagining that.”
Merlin’s tone doesn’t give him enough clues. “It doesn’t have to be a date, if you’d rather it wasn’t,” he says at last, since that seems safest.
“But you wanted it to be.” Arthur chooses not to answer that. “No, seriously, you’ve got to answer. You wanted it to be a date. Didn’t you?”
“Yes, but not if you didn’t want it to be. It sort of takes two to make a date.”
Merlin pauses. “No, I’m still confused. Because up until a few weeks ago you didn’t want to marry me, or date me, or probably even see me unless absolutely necessary, and now you’re answering my calls when you’re pissed and upset and you’re asking me out on stealth dates and can you maybe see where there’s a bit of a problem there?”
Of course Merlin asks the question that Arthur isn’t yet sure how to answer. He knows it’s inconsistent, he knows it’s a problem. He just isn’t quite sure how to explain that he’s seen several futures now, and he’s been annoyed, and surprised, and okay, perhaps a bit horrified, but the only one where he came out feeling a little hollow and like something was truly wrong was the one where he and Merlin weren’t together. Especially because he has no desire to sound soppy. “It’s been a hell of a few weeks,” he manages.
“That’s not an explanation.”
“I know it’s not, but I don’t know what to say. Except I think we might have made a mistake.”
After a moment, it seems to occur to Merlin that Arthur’s waiting for a response. “What kind of mistake?”
“Why were we so against dating? We’ll leave the getting married part of things out, just in general.”
Merlin sighs. “We discussed it. Don’t want to be blackmailed by the future, awful in-laws, we don’t get along …”
“Well, the in-laws won’t be a problem any longer.”
“Oh, shit, Arthur, I’m--”
“No matter. Seriously. And we do get along, now. In case you hadn’t noticed.” Merlin doesn’t answer. “As for the being black-mailed by the future …well, it’s more like being blackmailed by ourselves, isn’t it? The crystals and mirrors can’t show us anything we don’t already feel somehow. Right?” They chose to stop seeing each other, to stop talking, and they never got married. They bicker, and they sometimes get along, but when they talk, they end up together. “It’s not destiny or anything, so far as I can tell. We just keep … choosing it.”
“And what made you choose it this time?” There’s a noise Arthur can’t identify in the background.
Arthur struggles for the right words. “I’m happiest when we’re together.” Another mysterious noise. “What the hell are you doing, contacting aliens?”
“I’m.” Merlin stops, and then there’s the unmistakable sound of a car horn. “I’m just walking up to your building, actually, because I sort of thought we ought to have the conversation not over the phone and then I called you to warn you I was coming over and got a bit derailed. Can you buzz me up so I don’t have to break in with magic this time?”
With that, Merlin hangs up, leaving Arthur gaping silently at his mobile before his buzzer goes off insistently. He half-runs to the door to press the button that will let Merlin up, and then stands there while Merlin runs up the three flights of stairs--and of course he wouldn’t take the lift, that would end it all too quickly--so he can throw open the door the second Merlin finishes knocking. “Um. Hello,” says Arthur, when Merlin just stands there silently. “Won’t you come inside?”
“What the hell do you mean, you’re happiest when we’re together?” Merlin steps past him and shuts the door. Hopefully the neighbours aren’t feeling nosy.
Arthur crosses his arms. “I’ve been doing most of the talking in this conversation, and I’m actually rather curious why you were thinking of kissing me earlier if you’re so against it.”
Merlin closes his eyes and leans against the nearest wall. “Look, if we’d never looked into the future and you hadn’t looked so upset and you’d just … acted like you have been since I called about Freya, and not because of the future, then I would have snogged you at the door and not regretted it, and maybe I’m not giving you enough credit, but it’s hard to be sure.”
“I suppose that’s fair.” Arthur has to try hard not to be stung, though. “If it helps, she’s not the first one I tried to help. She’s just the first one I was overt about. And maybe I did it a little bit because of the future, but that’s just because it reminded me that there were choices besides being stuck in that office for the rest of my life trying to undo my father’s mistakes.”
“And what about me?” Merlin looks at him again. “You said it’s because you’re happiest with me. What does that mean?”
Arthur can’t quite stop himself snapping out his answer. “It means, you insecure twat, that I figured out eventually that there’s probably a reason I was happiest with you.” When that just leads to Merlin blinking at him, Arthur lowers his voice and tries it another way. “We argue, yes, and I know you didn’t like me, but I certainly respect you, and did long before Morgana took out that damn mirror of hers.”
“I didn’t dislike you,” says Merlin before Arthur can think what to say next. “I just … expected better of you.” Despite Arthur trying to hide his wince at something his father’s said to him at least once a week since he was sixteen, Merlin instantly looks dismayed. “Not like that! Just, Morgana spoke so highly of you, and then you were sort of a prat at first and things sort of got off on the wrong foot and didn’t get better. Until recently.”
“Yes. Recently.” Arthur rubs a hand over his eyes. “Is it so hard to accept that I like you and want to take a shot at this? It’s not like I’m proposing marriage right now, I accept that things could change and we could part ways in a month and make things horribly awkward at Gwen and Lance’s dinner parties. I just think it’s worth giving a try.”
“So do I. I just--”
“Suspect my motives?”
“No.” Merlin smiles, and Arthur allows himself to relax a bit. “Well, maybe. But less now.”
Perhaps he shouldn’t push, but Merlin is standing straight again and he’s still smiling and while they haven’t worked out everything about the future yet, Arthur’s beginning to think they might actually manage it. “Does that mean I get a second date, then?”
It’s actually comforting when Merlin stops to think about it for a minute, head tilted to the side. “Yeah, I think it does. But first, I’m going to make up for earlier and kiss you.”
Arthur has a half-second to remember that they’re not even in his living room yet and that the corridor leading to the rest of his flat probably isn’t the most romantic place for a kiss before Merlin’s lips are on his. Arthur kisses back with everything he’s got, but Merlin seems to have some sort of point to prove, because he pushes Arthur back a few steps, until he hits the wall, and then presses his body up against Arthur’s to keep him there.
After a minute, the kiss gentles, and Arthur takes the opportunity to do what he didn’t when they had sex for the first time and makes a point of trying to learn what Merlin likes best. It’s a bit of a challenge with Merlin trying to do the same thing to him, but they both seem to manage it. Arthur has to push him off after what could be five minutes or fifteen, when he’s hard enough that if Merlin shifts his hips even half an inch he’s going to know. Merlin’s wounded look has got to be at least half sham, but Arthur leans his head on Merlin’s shoulder anyway, so he can whisper in his ear. “If you don’t want this going further tonight, we need to back off for a while.” He grimaces down at the tight front of his jeans and makes a point of not looking at Merlin’s too closely. “Maybe a long while.”
“We probably shouldn’t. We’ve still got some things to work out.” Merlin disentangles their arms and Arthur reluctantly drops the leg he’s got hooked around Merlin’s knee. “Besides, I don’t put out on the first date.”
“We’ll have to schedule the next one quite soon, then, won’t we?” Arthur just grins when Merlin elbows him and finishes pulling away. “But apart from that, and I promise this isn’t a move, it’s late and I hate the thought of you going all the way across town again, especially since I know you’ll refuse to take a cab even if I offer to pay. Would you like to stay the night? The bed’s big enough for two no problem, or you can take the sofa if you’re worried about your virtue.”
Merlin turns pink. “I know your bed is big, I stayed in it the night you were drunk. On top of the covers, but it’s comfortable.”
Arthur raises an eyebrow. “Is that you accepting my invitation?”
After a second, Merlin nods. “I’ve got to leave early for some interning hours, but here’s about as close to there as my flat is, so it shouldn’t be a problem, as long as you don’t mind me shrinking some of your clothes so I won’t look like a kid in my dad’s closet.”
“Done,” says Arthur, and slings an arm around Merlin’s shoulders to bring him the rest of the way into his apartment.
*
Morgana has a dinner party the night after the elections, to celebrate Nimueh Lake’s win. Arthur and Merlin show up at the same time, which is actually an accident because Merlin had a class all afternoon and Arthur was visiting one of his old law professors, a man named Geoffrey who has a few connections to politics and was all too willing to use them when Arthur admitted that he’d broken with his father, and they stand outside her door for a few seconds, fidgeting and trying to figure out what to do. “Are we going in together?” Arthur asks eventually.
It’s not that they’re hiding the fact that they’re dating from their friends. But it’s only been two weeks and six dates and the second their relationship becomes a matter of public record nobody is ever going to let them forget about it, so Arthur is quite enjoying having it as a bit of a secret for now, and Merlin seems to feel the same. “They’ll find out sometime,” says Merlin. “May as well be now.”
Lancelot and Gwen come up the stairs just then, before Arthur can reach out and grab Merlin’s hand, and Gwen immediately loops her arm through Merlin’s and starts chattering about the baby while Lancelot claps Arthur on the shoulder and knocks on Morgana’s door. Any plans of coming in hands linked and making a grand declaration are scrapped when Leon throws open the door and invites them all inside where Gwaine’s pouring wine and Elena is making salad while Morgana fusses over her meat thermometer. The talk is immediately all about the elections and Elyan’s recent promotion and Gwen’s baby and a hundred other things, so Arthur gives Merlin a helpless shrug and just stays close as a compromise.
Nobody notices, not when Arthur and Merlin deliberately choose seats next to each other for once instead of one of them being the last to the table and forced to sit next to the other, not when they deliberately brush shoulders or hands every time they reach for anything. About halfway through dinner, though, while Lancelot is regaling them all about his boss’s irate reaction to Nimueh’s victory, Merlin rests his head on Arthur’s shoulder for just a second before jerking upright. When Arthur looks around, Morgana is watching them with a slightly stunned expression that morphs into a mad grin. Arthur shakes his head before she can do more than open her mouth, and she subsides, still smirking.
Elyan gets it next, sometime between appetizers and the roast Morgana is still getting up occasionally to prod, when Merlin pokes Arthur in the side to get his attention and Arthur just elbows him in return. He looks between them several times, and when Arthur just smirks at him, he gapes. “No way,” he says, a bit too loud, and the table falls silent in the middle of talking about what colour Gwen and Lancelot are thinking about painting their nursery.
“You’re … that against us painting the nursery blue?” says Gwen, blinking at him.
Morgana, bless her, interrupts with a serene smile. “Well, it’s not a very gender-neutral colour, is it? Might want to wait until you know the baby’s sex, you know, or paint it a nice yellow or peach to head that off at the pass entirely. Maybe even green.”
“Yellow is nice,” Elena agrees, and the conversation moves on with only a few more odd looks at Elyan. Arthur catches Merlin’s hand under the table and squeezes it; he wants to say, but he wants to do it on their terms. Merlin squeezes back.
When dinner is over (and the roast is perfect, as Arthur could have told Morgana without checking, since Morgana never makes anything bad), Morgana claps her hands and smiles around the table in a way that Arthur recognizes as the prelude to a terrifying idea. “In honour of the elections and Elyan’s career and … whatever else we might be celebrating, I thought I might take out the scrying mirror again. It isn’t set up, but it’s only a matter of a few minutes to do it.”
“Excellent idea,” says Arthur through his teeth, with a look that he hopes promises endless torment at some unspecified point in her future. “I’ll just clear the table while you do that, shall I?”
Merlin gives him a sideways look and stands up alongside him. “I’ll help out, Arthur.”
Morgana beams at them. “Thank you, lads. Why don’t the rest of you repair to the living room while I get out my mirror?”
Arthur starts collecting plates and silverware while Merlin gets an armful of cups that he must be balancing with magic because he’s nearly as clumsy as Elena and Arthur can tell already that he’s going to have to start keeping extra mugs in his cabinets if Merlin keeps coming over. Everyone else troupes into the living room and Morgana winks at them before disappearing to her bedroom.
“This is going to be interesting,” says Merlin the second they’re in the kitchen and alone, stacking the dishes in the sink. “But look on the bright side, Morgause couldn’t come after all so you won’t have to deal with her and Morgana smirking in stereo.”
Arthur finishes putting down his dishes and puts his arm around Merlin’s waist. “I don’t really care about the mocking, you know. Well, I do, but better sooner than later, I suppose. Gwen would look reproachful if we put it off much longer, and you know I can’t withstand that. I just know we’ve still got some of our own problems to work through, and I don’t particularly want an audience for all the arguments we’re sure to get into.”
Sometimes after Arthur says something, Merlin’s eyes will go soft and he’ll give Arthur a kiss. Arthur hasn’t quite figured out what the pattern is, since once Merlin did it after Arthur announced that he didn’t like sushi, but this is apparently one of those times, because Merlin grabs the collar of his button-up, putting it irreversibly askew if past experience is any guide, and plants his lips on Arthur’s. “They’ve been witnessing our arguments for years, no need to change it now,” Merlin whispers when they part, and then Arthur has to kiss him.
There’s a not-very-well-stifled shriek and the sound of a salad bowl smashing on the floor, and Arthur and Merlin jump apart. When Arthur turns, he isn’t the least bit surprised to see Elena standing there looking absolutely gobsmacked with lettuce and vinaigrette all over her shoes, actually pointing at them like someone in a panto. “You! The two of you!” she exclaims.
Morgana’s flat is posh, if not quite as posh as Arthur’s, but it’s not big enough that Elena’s screech didn’t bring everyone poking their heads out of the living room and then coming closer when they see the tableau in the kitchen. Since the game is up anyway, Arthur holds out his hand and waits for Merlin to take it. It takes a few seconds, but he does, and Elena lets out another squeak that Gwen mirrors a second later when she figures it out.
Before Arthur can think of what to say, Morgana pops out of her bedroom, mirror in hand and smug smile firmly in place. “Well, are you going to tell us how long you’ve been keeping secrets? Naughty, Arthur, you let me keep thinking you were heartbroken and I made you muffins.”
“I shared them with Merlin,” Arthur says, because he did, and he thought they were congratulations-on-getting-away-from-our-father muffins anyway. “And we figured things out about two weeks ago now.”
“Why don’t I get muffins?” Gwaine asks. “Also, Ellie, you won the pool!”
Morgana swans over to him and pats his cheek. “If you get your heart broken, I’ll make you muffins. Orange pineapple, I know you like that. And yes, Elena, you can collect your winnings from me soon as I find the tin.”
“Oh, fuck off, you didn’t really have a bet.”
“We did,” says Elyan, “and actually, Elena, you don’t get it.” When Arthur peers around everyone to see him, he’s grinning. “They’ve just finally got their act together where dating is concerned. For the fucking bit, Leon won.”
That, of course, brings on quite the uproar, while Elyan lords it over everyone for knowing the full story before even Morgana (and the look in Morgana’s eye promises retribution for this particular surprise, since she understandably thought he’d confided everything there was to the Merlin situation to her) and Arthur tries not to look as mortified as he feels and Merlin turns redder and redder and occasionally tries to extract his hand from Arthur’s grip. “We’re taking things slow,” Arthur interrupts loudly when Gwen and Elena start squealing very disturbing things about a wedding. “And I’d appreciate it if you lot wouldn’t harass my boyfriend.”
His voice betrays him by going a bit soft on the last two words, and Gwen, Elena, and Leon all give him identical fond looks. Which might have something to do with the startled, pleased expression on Merlin’s face. Morgana clears her throat and he reminds himself to buy her something frivolous and expensive when he’s got a job again. “All the more reason to get the scrying mirror out,” she says. “Everyone into the living room.”
Nobody dares disobey Morgana when she’s being firm, so everyone turns around and goes back to the living room and the chairs that someone set out while Arthur and Merlin were in the kitchen, casting occasional reproachful looks behind them. They all pick their seats, and Arthur pushes his a few inches closer to Merlin’s before he sits down. “Could have been worse,” he whispers.
“Just wait until Gwen corners me.”
“I have,” says Morgana with a pointed look at the two of them, “set this up for about five years from now. It’s long enough after the last time I set it for that long that you’ll be getting new things. Who wants to start?”
Gwen and Lancelot end up doing it first, since Gwen is sitting right to Morgana’s left. “Tough night with a second one,” says Gwen when she comes up, and then whacks Lancelot in the arm. “And you were staying late at work, you wanker.”
Lancelot takes the mirror from her. “We’ll see about that.” Twenty seconds later, he comes out of his trance smiling ruefully. “You’re right, but if it’s any help I’m getting ready to go home.”
Elyan’s next, with a night at work that makes him make a disgusted face, followed by Gwaine, who comes out smirking but not talking and Elena, who’s blushing bright red and stares at her lap while she mumbles an obvious lie about being at work. That brings it to Leon, who has thirty seconds and comes back to awareness with his brows knit. “I’m with a woman, we seem to have been together for a while, but I’m quite sure I haven’t met her yet.” He shrugs. “I suppose I will.”
That means it’s Arthur’s turn, and Arthur takes it automatically but doesn’t look right away. He’s chosen quite a lot of things lately based on what he’s seen in visions, and he isn’t really sure if he wants to know what differences the choices have made. Is he still with Merlin? Or will their tentative attempts at a relationship fizzle out because doing it now makes them miss some key event in the future that keeps them together forever? Whatever it is, though, he wants to find out for himself. He looks at Merlin, who’s just watching with his head cocked to the side, and then at Morgana, who rolls her eyes. “Not for me tonight, actually,” he says. “I think I’m just going to take things as they come.”
Merlin beams at him, takes the mirror among the coos and snickers, and passes it on to Morgana without even glancing inside. It looks like they might finally be on the same page.
*
Four and a half years later
Arthur kicks the door to their flat shut and drops the takeaway on the table, sushi for Merlin and a microwave meal from the Tesco’s down the street because Arthur refuses to eat anything that’s been prepared in the same vicinity as raw fish. When Merlin doesn’t immediately sweep down on the table, Arthur looks around, and sure enough, there he is on the couch, nodding along to his headphones while he peers at his laptop. “Honey, I’m home,” he shouts, just to be obnoxious, and Merlin jumps.
“I thought you’d be another half hour,” he says by way of apology, and goes back to his laptop, although he at least slips his headphones off. “We’ll eat in here, yeah?”
“I see the romance has gone,” mutters Arthur, but he warms his meal up anyway and puts Merlin’s food on a plate because he always spills it everywhere if he eats from the carton. Merlin just hums and doesn’t bother looking up from his work, which has been eating his evenings for days now but will hopefully end soon when the vote on the latest piece of anti-discrimination legislation goes through. At least all of Arthur’s work on it happens during the day, but Merlin’s volunteering on top of taking care of his clients. Arthur sets their meals down on the coffee table and joins Merlin on the couch, allowing him thirty seconds before poking him. “Come on, you do actually have to eat it, you can’t just pick the nutrients up by osmosis.”
“You and my mother.” Merlin rolls his eyes but obediently eats a few bites before getting distracted again.
Arthur’s too tired to scold him much after a day lobbying among every party that will listen for the law that will hopefully tie his father’s hands for good where hiring policies are concerned, as well as other business owners like him. Instead, he finishes his meal and then buries his nose in Merlin’s hair and nuzzles at him, which gets disappointingly little reaction. So of course he nips Merlin’s ear.
Merlin yelps, and then laughs. “Seriously, Arthur, if I’ve told you once, I’ve told you a thousand times, just because they’re large doesn’t mean they’re sensitive.”
Success. Arthur pulls away and grins at him, getting a grin in return. “I just can’t help myself and you know it. And I’m storing up, since chances are you won’t be coming to bed tonight. Again.”
Merlin just smiles, shakes his head, and leans over to kiss Arthur’s jaw. “Pretty soon, I promise, and it will be just like before.”
“Hmm.” Arthur grabs Merlin’s hand when he takes it away from his keyboard for a second and rubs their rings together, then has to look down. Six months on and it’s still sometimes hard to think of Merlin as his husband. “Not quite like before,” he points out, barely paying attention anymore. “Promotion, and all.” He groans and leans back on the couch. “Gods, I don’t want to go back to the office.”
Finally, Merlin puts the laptop down, moving their plates out of the way to do it, and loops his arms around Arthur’s neck. “You’ll be running the world soon enough,” he whispers, and Arthur really can’t do anything but kiss him.
They’re getting farther than they have in more than a week, what with how busy they’ve been and how often their friends require their presence, and Arthur’s just pressing his husband back into the couch to see if he can have his wicked way with him before Merlin remembers he probably ought to be working when he realizes just why the conversation they’ve been having sounds so familiar and bursts out laughing. Merlin pulls back, looking offended, and Arthur has to sit up and take deep breaths to get himself under control. “Sorry, I’m sorry,” he gasps eventually.
“What on earth was that all about?” Merlin asks, still sprawled out on the couch, and Arthur seriously considers shelving the conversation for later.
Instead, he grabs Merlin’s hand again. “Anything about the conversation we just had give you a bit of deja vu, perhaps?”
Merlin squints at him. “Should it have? I am really tired, you know.”
“About five years ago,” Arthur starts, and Merlin’s fingers twitch in his, “Morgana had a dinner party and thought it would be clever to get her scrying mirror out, and--”
It’s Merlin’s turn to burst out laughing. “Oh, no. But it wasn’t quite the same, right? So we don’t have to tell Morgana and let her be smug forever?”
“I have no intention of mentioning it to Morgana, and yes, it was a bit different. But still, close enough, for all I think it was in a different context then.” Arthur looks around. “And a different flat.” A year ago, when they were finally moving in together, they’d looked at nearly twenty flats, and the first one that had suited them both had been the one they saw in the first vision. They looked around at it, looked at each other, and walked right out without even inspecting the bedroom.
It’s not the only difference from the futures they saw while they were trying to get things figured out, and Arthur knows he isn’t the only one who catalogues each one and treasures it as a sign that this really is something that they’re doing for themselves. Merlin was the one who proposed, two weeks before Arthur was planning to do it, and he and Morgana together had apparently schemed to get Arthur’s mother’s ring out of the vault and resized. Arthur still wears it, along with his wedding ring, even if it does make Gwaine point out that it makes him the girl every time he remembers to. Some things are the same as the visions, though, and to his surprise, Arthur doesn’t mind that much.
When he looks back at Merlin, he’s propped himself up on his elbows and is just watching Arthur, eyebrows raised. “That’s okay, right? You aren’t going to have some sort of freak-out that this means all that mess was all because you’re destined to buy me sushi and harass me on our couch? Because if so, you can call Morgana, I’m too knackered to deal with it.”
Arthur rolls his eyes and leans over him. “No, because I figured most of that came with the marriage territory. And I would never call Morgana for that, didn’t we just say we’re never telling her because she would be smug forever? I would call Elena, if anyone.”
Merlin snorts. “As if Elena wouldn’t tell Morgana immediately.”
Arthur considers that for a moment. “Leon, then.”
“On a date with Freya tonight,” says Merlin, and Arthur can’t help grinning at that, because setting them up when Freya got a job in London is one of the better ideas he’s had, if he does say so himself. Merlin just laughs and shakes his head. “You’re going to become an inveterate matchmaker in our old age, aren’t you?”
“Probably, with Gwen and Lance’s brood of terrors running around.” He kisses Merlin before pulling away again. “I really, truly, don’t mind. That’s why I was laughing. I actually think we ought to celebrate it. Coming full circle, and all.”
Merlin laughs. “Is this celebrating going to have something to do with the fact that we’ve been too busy to actually use that ridiculous bed you insisted on lately?”
“Or the couch.” Arthur grins at him. “I’m flexible.”
Merlin pulls him back down on top of him, and Arthur goes, arranging their arms into a position that won’t let either of them fall off the couch and putting his lips against Merlin’s with the ease of practice. He probably should insist on going to the bed, since he can’t remember the last night when both of them were on it for a full night’s sleep, but he’s comfortable where he is, and when Merlin inevitably whines afterwards about being hungry since he’s an idiot who doesn’t finish his dinner, the remains of the sushi will be right there. Unless they knock it off the coffee table, and he can’t help laughing into Merlin’s mouth about that. Merlin pulls away just far enough to speak against his mouth. “I love you, you daft sod,” he says, and goes back to kissing Arthur.
And that, Arthur thinks, is more than enough reason to enjoy living in the present.
“So,” Arthur asks when he and Merlin have been staring at each other over the doorstep of Merlin’s building for a good minute and they haven’t got much beyond “hello,” “what are you in the mood to eat this evening?”
That seems to be Merlin’s cue to step out and shut the building door. “There’s a nice little place a few streets over, they do a good ravioli.”
“Ravioli it is, then,” says Arthur, and stuffs his hands in his pockets as Merlin starts leading them down the street. “Thank you for agreeing to come out. I didn’t want to be on my own, and anyone else would have made it a group occasion.”
Merlin shoots him a quick sideways glance and then goes back to staring at the pavement. “You aren’t feeling very celebratory, then?”
“I don’t feel as if it’s hit me quite yet.” He hasn’t checked his e-mail since he sent in his resignation, but he made the mistake of listening to the message his father left on his answer phone when he went back to his flat to change and drop off his things, and it was a rant on betrayal and family that the beep cut off midway through. His mobile has been silent since Merlin called, but Arthur doesn’t expect that to last long if he keeps ignoring his father at every turn, which is his current strategy. “I imagine that tomorrow morning I’ll wake up either wanting to shoot off fireworks or ready to panic. We’ll have to see which.”
Merlin reaches out and squeezes his elbow before letting his hand drop. “Is it kind of weird and creepy if I say that I’m really proud of you?”
Arthur can’t help laughing at that, just a bit. “Maybe, but it’s good to hear so I don’t much care. I imagine I’ll get it from Morgana as well, but she’ll just sound smug about it.”
“She sounds smug about most things. Gwen might say it, she tends to be good at things like that.”
They’ll all think it, he’s relatively sure, in some form or other. It’s part of what’s getting him through the day. Gwaine will laugh at him, Leon will wrinkle his brows and get worried, Elyan will roll his eyes, Elena will flutter awkwardly about, Lancelot will be very serious about it, Gwen will get teary-eyed, and Morgana will get smug, but they’ll all be pleased and proud. “I’m glad to hear it from you, though,” he says at last, when Merlin gives him a questioning look and he realizes they’ve gone half a block without him saying a word.
“Any reaction from your father?” Merlin asks.
“Nothing good, and I haven’t even checked my e-mail. I imagine I’ll hear a great deal over the next few months, and even when he cools down he won’t let me forget it. If he cools down. I don’t know, he mentioned disowning me when he left a message earlier, but I don’t think he actually would.”
Arthur doesn’t have to look at Merlin to imagine the wince, and when Merlin speaks again he sounds painfully cheerful. “Well, on the bright side, you’ve still got me.” He coughs. “And all of us.”
“That will be a great comfort to me while I’m unemployed, thank you.”
Merlin catches his arm and tows him down a side street when Arthur doesn’t see him turn. “You won’t be unemployed. You may not have a plan just yet, but I don’t imagine that will last very long.”
“I suppose not. Aren’t I allowed a few hours to wallow, though?”
“Oh, right, of course, I didn’t mean to--”
“Merlin.” Arthur puts his hand over Merlin’s on his arm and nearly trips when Merlin stops instantly to look at him. “I was joking. It’s all right.”
“Oh.” Merlin starts them walking again, and drops Arthur’s arm when he moves his hand. Arthur tries not to be discouraged by that--he doesn’t have any illusions that figuring out whatever this is going to be between them will be a fast or easy process. “I’ll still try to keep my advice about your future to a minimum. It’s a side effect of the degree, you know, wanting to help everyone.”
“I may not have known you before you went to university, Merlin, but I am absolutely certain that you wanting to help people started long before you started your degree.”
At that, Merlin actually laughs. “My mother could tell you stories, I’m sure. I had a bit of a tendency for bringing home stray animals. And Will, who’s nearly a stray animal himself.”
“I’ve heard you mention him a few times. Childhood friend?”
“And partner in crime, and first boyfriend, and part-time agony aunt. He still lives back home.” Merlin grins. “Though he gets up to so much trouble without me that I sometimes wonder if he’s going to get run out of town on a rail. Hopefully my mother will prevent that.”
“You two must have been the terror of the village,” Arthur offers, to see how long he can keep the smile on Merlin’s face. Besides, for all he’s known Merlin for years he doesn’t know much about his past and it seems as good a time as any to talk about it.
“Pretty sure we were responsible for every hair on old Mr. Simmons’s head turning white. And then for him losing it all.”
Arthur prompts him to talk about it more, and the conversation lasts for the few blocks to the restaurant, which is in a narrow building in between an art gallery and a little boutique. They are, he realizes a few seconds later, only a block or two down from Taliesin’s; he just usually comes at it from the other direction. He allows himself one second to wonder if that’s the shop where Merlin went the time he saw them apart, and then shakes off the thought. “Shall we go in?”
The waitress greets Merlin by name and gives Arthur a funny sideways look that probably means she’s wondering where she recognizes him from (and for all he’s used to being recognized for standing behind his father trying to look interested at press conferences, he really hopes that doesn’t happen tonight), and seats them at the best table in the house, not that there are many tables. Arthur stares at the wine list and Merlin in turns, trying to figure out what the next topic of conversation ought to be.
Merlin, to his surprise, is the one who starts talking first. “So, I’m guessing you don’t want to be this whole night about you quitting, right?” Arthur nods. “Okay, then.” The pause after that goes on long enough that Arthur wonders if he’s going to have to come up with something after all, and then Merlin lets out an exasperated sigh. “You know, for how often we see each other, one would think I would know you better.”
“Believe me, I’m feeling much the same, but I suppose that’s what this meal is supposed to change.” He smiles. “Although I refuse to ask you your favourite colour, that would be a bit too much.”
That, thankfully, loosens things up. They talk more about Merlin’s life growing up in Ealdor, about his mother and Will and his Uncle Gaius who lives in the city, and the constant parade of animals going through their little farm, including a tamed deer if Merlin is to be believed. When that subject is exhausted, long after the waitress has come by to bring them their wine and take their orders for food (two orders of ravioli, since it comes highly recommended), Arthur talks about his family a bit. Not about his father, but about Morgana and Morgause and how exactly they’re related to him, since it’s easy to get confused.
From there, they move on to music and movies and why Nimueh Lake is almost sure to win the elections and a hundred other subjects, and it’s nowhere near as awkward as Arthur had feared it might be. By the time dessert is served, he’s feeling brave enough to offer Merlin a bite of cheesecake off his fork, and Merlin, with a raised eyebrow, takes it and offers Arthur a taste of chocolate cake in return. Arthur can’t keep the grin off his face for the rest of the meal.
It’s half past nine by the time they leave, Arthur refusing to let Merlin so much as look at the bill (although it’s quite reasonable, far more so than anywhere Vivian made him take her), and the walk back to Merlin’s building is slow and quiet, though this time the silence doesn’t feel awkward. As they get closer to Merlin’s building, though, Arthur starts feeling first-date jitters like he hasn’t had in years, which is ridiculous, as they aren’t even on a date, at least not an official one, even if Arthur would like to count it as such. Should he kiss Merlin at the door? Should he offer to do it again sometime?
He still hasn’t figured it out by the time they stop at the doorway of Merlin’s building and stand there stupidly for a bit. “Thank you for a lovely evening,” he says at last. “It’s ended my day far better than I was expecting it to end before you called.”
“I’m glad. Nobody should have to do something like that alone.”
“Well, I’ve got you. And the others, like you said earlier. I’ll probably tell Morgana later, and she’ll give everyone else the gossip on my behalf.”
“Right.” Merlin nods a few times, and then practically lunges forward to wrap Arthur in a hug so tight it almost hurts. “Just--call me if you think I can help?” he whispers right in Arthur’s ear.
Arthur, after a startled moment, gives him a little squeeze in return. “Definitely.”
Merlin pulls back, but not all the way, and Arthur wonders if he’s going to kiss him and leans just a few millimeters forward to try to encourage him. Instead, Merlin lets go of him and takes a step back. “Good luck talking to Morgana, and I’ll talk to you soon.”
With that, he fumbles out his keys and ducks into his building while Arthur is still standing on the doorstep wondering what the hell just happened.
*
When Merlin calls at eleven that night, ten minutes after Arthur gets off the phone with Morgana, he doesn’t even let Arthur get a greeting out before he starts talking. “So, I’m thinking I probably should have kissed you earlier, at the door, and maybe you would have come up, but honestly I’m a little confused right now so I’m not sure.”
Arthur swallows around something that he’s pretty sure would have come out as a nervous giggle. “I’d rather hoped you might,” he says in the closest approximation he can get of his usual even tone. “But there’s always next time.”
“Is there? Because like I said, I’m confused. That … that was a date, right? I wasn’t imagining that.”
Merlin’s tone doesn’t give him enough clues. “It doesn’t have to be a date, if you’d rather it wasn’t,” he says at last, since that seems safest.
“But you wanted it to be.” Arthur chooses not to answer that. “No, seriously, you’ve got to answer. You wanted it to be a date. Didn’t you?”
“Yes, but not if you didn’t want it to be. It sort of takes two to make a date.”
Merlin pauses. “No, I’m still confused. Because up until a few weeks ago you didn’t want to marry me, or date me, or probably even see me unless absolutely necessary, and now you’re answering my calls when you’re pissed and upset and you’re asking me out on stealth dates and can you maybe see where there’s a bit of a problem there?”
Of course Merlin asks the question that Arthur isn’t yet sure how to answer. He knows it’s inconsistent, he knows it’s a problem. He just isn’t quite sure how to explain that he’s seen several futures now, and he’s been annoyed, and surprised, and okay, perhaps a bit horrified, but the only one where he came out feeling a little hollow and like something was truly wrong was the one where he and Merlin weren’t together. Especially because he has no desire to sound soppy. “It’s been a hell of a few weeks,” he manages.
“That’s not an explanation.”
“I know it’s not, but I don’t know what to say. Except I think we might have made a mistake.”
After a moment, it seems to occur to Merlin that Arthur’s waiting for a response. “What kind of mistake?”
“Why were we so against dating? We’ll leave the getting married part of things out, just in general.”
Merlin sighs. “We discussed it. Don’t want to be blackmailed by the future, awful in-laws, we don’t get along …”
“Well, the in-laws won’t be a problem any longer.”
“Oh, shit, Arthur, I’m--”
“No matter. Seriously. And we do get along, now. In case you hadn’t noticed.” Merlin doesn’t answer. “As for the being black-mailed by the future …well, it’s more like being blackmailed by ourselves, isn’t it? The crystals and mirrors can’t show us anything we don’t already feel somehow. Right?” They chose to stop seeing each other, to stop talking, and they never got married. They bicker, and they sometimes get along, but when they talk, they end up together. “It’s not destiny or anything, so far as I can tell. We just keep … choosing it.”
“And what made you choose it this time?” There’s a noise Arthur can’t identify in the background.
Arthur struggles for the right words. “I’m happiest when we’re together.” Another mysterious noise. “What the hell are you doing, contacting aliens?”
“I’m.” Merlin stops, and then there’s the unmistakable sound of a car horn. “I’m just walking up to your building, actually, because I sort of thought we ought to have the conversation not over the phone and then I called you to warn you I was coming over and got a bit derailed. Can you buzz me up so I don’t have to break in with magic this time?”
With that, Merlin hangs up, leaving Arthur gaping silently at his mobile before his buzzer goes off insistently. He half-runs to the door to press the button that will let Merlin up, and then stands there while Merlin runs up the three flights of stairs--and of course he wouldn’t take the lift, that would end it all too quickly--so he can throw open the door the second Merlin finishes knocking. “Um. Hello,” says Arthur, when Merlin just stands there silently. “Won’t you come inside?”
“What the hell do you mean, you’re happiest when we’re together?” Merlin steps past him and shuts the door. Hopefully the neighbours aren’t feeling nosy.
Arthur crosses his arms. “I’ve been doing most of the talking in this conversation, and I’m actually rather curious why you were thinking of kissing me earlier if you’re so against it.”
Merlin closes his eyes and leans against the nearest wall. “Look, if we’d never looked into the future and you hadn’t looked so upset and you’d just … acted like you have been since I called about Freya, and not because of the future, then I would have snogged you at the door and not regretted it, and maybe I’m not giving you enough credit, but it’s hard to be sure.”
“I suppose that’s fair.” Arthur has to try hard not to be stung, though. “If it helps, she’s not the first one I tried to help. She’s just the first one I was overt about. And maybe I did it a little bit because of the future, but that’s just because it reminded me that there were choices besides being stuck in that office for the rest of my life trying to undo my father’s mistakes.”
“And what about me?” Merlin looks at him again. “You said it’s because you’re happiest with me. What does that mean?”
Arthur can’t quite stop himself snapping out his answer. “It means, you insecure twat, that I figured out eventually that there’s probably a reason I was happiest with you.” When that just leads to Merlin blinking at him, Arthur lowers his voice and tries it another way. “We argue, yes, and I know you didn’t like me, but I certainly respect you, and did long before Morgana took out that damn mirror of hers.”
“I didn’t dislike you,” says Merlin before Arthur can think what to say next. “I just … expected better of you.” Despite Arthur trying to hide his wince at something his father’s said to him at least once a week since he was sixteen, Merlin instantly looks dismayed. “Not like that! Just, Morgana spoke so highly of you, and then you were sort of a prat at first and things sort of got off on the wrong foot and didn’t get better. Until recently.”
“Yes. Recently.” Arthur rubs a hand over his eyes. “Is it so hard to accept that I like you and want to take a shot at this? It’s not like I’m proposing marriage right now, I accept that things could change and we could part ways in a month and make things horribly awkward at Gwen and Lance’s dinner parties. I just think it’s worth giving a try.”
“So do I. I just--”
“Suspect my motives?”
“No.” Merlin smiles, and Arthur allows himself to relax a bit. “Well, maybe. But less now.”
Perhaps he shouldn’t push, but Merlin is standing straight again and he’s still smiling and while they haven’t worked out everything about the future yet, Arthur’s beginning to think they might actually manage it. “Does that mean I get a second date, then?”
It’s actually comforting when Merlin stops to think about it for a minute, head tilted to the side. “Yeah, I think it does. But first, I’m going to make up for earlier and kiss you.”
Arthur has a half-second to remember that they’re not even in his living room yet and that the corridor leading to the rest of his flat probably isn’t the most romantic place for a kiss before Merlin’s lips are on his. Arthur kisses back with everything he’s got, but Merlin seems to have some sort of point to prove, because he pushes Arthur back a few steps, until he hits the wall, and then presses his body up against Arthur’s to keep him there.
After a minute, the kiss gentles, and Arthur takes the opportunity to do what he didn’t when they had sex for the first time and makes a point of trying to learn what Merlin likes best. It’s a bit of a challenge with Merlin trying to do the same thing to him, but they both seem to manage it. Arthur has to push him off after what could be five minutes or fifteen, when he’s hard enough that if Merlin shifts his hips even half an inch he’s going to know. Merlin’s wounded look has got to be at least half sham, but Arthur leans his head on Merlin’s shoulder anyway, so he can whisper in his ear. “If you don’t want this going further tonight, we need to back off for a while.” He grimaces down at the tight front of his jeans and makes a point of not looking at Merlin’s too closely. “Maybe a long while.”
“We probably shouldn’t. We’ve still got some things to work out.” Merlin disentangles their arms and Arthur reluctantly drops the leg he’s got hooked around Merlin’s knee. “Besides, I don’t put out on the first date.”
“We’ll have to schedule the next one quite soon, then, won’t we?” Arthur just grins when Merlin elbows him and finishes pulling away. “But apart from that, and I promise this isn’t a move, it’s late and I hate the thought of you going all the way across town again, especially since I know you’ll refuse to take a cab even if I offer to pay. Would you like to stay the night? The bed’s big enough for two no problem, or you can take the sofa if you’re worried about your virtue.”
Merlin turns pink. “I know your bed is big, I stayed in it the night you were drunk. On top of the covers, but it’s comfortable.”
Arthur raises an eyebrow. “Is that you accepting my invitation?”
After a second, Merlin nods. “I’ve got to leave early for some interning hours, but here’s about as close to there as my flat is, so it shouldn’t be a problem, as long as you don’t mind me shrinking some of your clothes so I won’t look like a kid in my dad’s closet.”
“Done,” says Arthur, and slings an arm around Merlin’s shoulders to bring him the rest of the way into his apartment.
*
Morgana has a dinner party the night after the elections, to celebrate Nimueh Lake’s win. Arthur and Merlin show up at the same time, which is actually an accident because Merlin had a class all afternoon and Arthur was visiting one of his old law professors, a man named Geoffrey who has a few connections to politics and was all too willing to use them when Arthur admitted that he’d broken with his father, and they stand outside her door for a few seconds, fidgeting and trying to figure out what to do. “Are we going in together?” Arthur asks eventually.
It’s not that they’re hiding the fact that they’re dating from their friends. But it’s only been two weeks and six dates and the second their relationship becomes a matter of public record nobody is ever going to let them forget about it, so Arthur is quite enjoying having it as a bit of a secret for now, and Merlin seems to feel the same. “They’ll find out sometime,” says Merlin. “May as well be now.”
Lancelot and Gwen come up the stairs just then, before Arthur can reach out and grab Merlin’s hand, and Gwen immediately loops her arm through Merlin’s and starts chattering about the baby while Lancelot claps Arthur on the shoulder and knocks on Morgana’s door. Any plans of coming in hands linked and making a grand declaration are scrapped when Leon throws open the door and invites them all inside where Gwaine’s pouring wine and Elena is making salad while Morgana fusses over her meat thermometer. The talk is immediately all about the elections and Elyan’s recent promotion and Gwen’s baby and a hundred other things, so Arthur gives Merlin a helpless shrug and just stays close as a compromise.
Nobody notices, not when Arthur and Merlin deliberately choose seats next to each other for once instead of one of them being the last to the table and forced to sit next to the other, not when they deliberately brush shoulders or hands every time they reach for anything. About halfway through dinner, though, while Lancelot is regaling them all about his boss’s irate reaction to Nimueh’s victory, Merlin rests his head on Arthur’s shoulder for just a second before jerking upright. When Arthur looks around, Morgana is watching them with a slightly stunned expression that morphs into a mad grin. Arthur shakes his head before she can do more than open her mouth, and she subsides, still smirking.
Elyan gets it next, sometime between appetizers and the roast Morgana is still getting up occasionally to prod, when Merlin pokes Arthur in the side to get his attention and Arthur just elbows him in return. He looks between them several times, and when Arthur just smirks at him, he gapes. “No way,” he says, a bit too loud, and the table falls silent in the middle of talking about what colour Gwen and Lancelot are thinking about painting their nursery.
“You’re … that against us painting the nursery blue?” says Gwen, blinking at him.
Morgana, bless her, interrupts with a serene smile. “Well, it’s not a very gender-neutral colour, is it? Might want to wait until you know the baby’s sex, you know, or paint it a nice yellow or peach to head that off at the pass entirely. Maybe even green.”
“Yellow is nice,” Elena agrees, and the conversation moves on with only a few more odd looks at Elyan. Arthur catches Merlin’s hand under the table and squeezes it; he wants to say, but he wants to do it on their terms. Merlin squeezes back.
When dinner is over (and the roast is perfect, as Arthur could have told Morgana without checking, since Morgana never makes anything bad), Morgana claps her hands and smiles around the table in a way that Arthur recognizes as the prelude to a terrifying idea. “In honour of the elections and Elyan’s career and … whatever else we might be celebrating, I thought I might take out the scrying mirror again. It isn’t set up, but it’s only a matter of a few minutes to do it.”
“Excellent idea,” says Arthur through his teeth, with a look that he hopes promises endless torment at some unspecified point in her future. “I’ll just clear the table while you do that, shall I?”
Merlin gives him a sideways look and stands up alongside him. “I’ll help out, Arthur.”
Morgana beams at them. “Thank you, lads. Why don’t the rest of you repair to the living room while I get out my mirror?”
Arthur starts collecting plates and silverware while Merlin gets an armful of cups that he must be balancing with magic because he’s nearly as clumsy as Elena and Arthur can tell already that he’s going to have to start keeping extra mugs in his cabinets if Merlin keeps coming over. Everyone else troupes into the living room and Morgana winks at them before disappearing to her bedroom.
“This is going to be interesting,” says Merlin the second they’re in the kitchen and alone, stacking the dishes in the sink. “But look on the bright side, Morgause couldn’t come after all so you won’t have to deal with her and Morgana smirking in stereo.”
Arthur finishes putting down his dishes and puts his arm around Merlin’s waist. “I don’t really care about the mocking, you know. Well, I do, but better sooner than later, I suppose. Gwen would look reproachful if we put it off much longer, and you know I can’t withstand that. I just know we’ve still got some of our own problems to work through, and I don’t particularly want an audience for all the arguments we’re sure to get into.”
Sometimes after Arthur says something, Merlin’s eyes will go soft and he’ll give Arthur a kiss. Arthur hasn’t quite figured out what the pattern is, since once Merlin did it after Arthur announced that he didn’t like sushi, but this is apparently one of those times, because Merlin grabs the collar of his button-up, putting it irreversibly askew if past experience is any guide, and plants his lips on Arthur’s. “They’ve been witnessing our arguments for years, no need to change it now,” Merlin whispers when they part, and then Arthur has to kiss him.
There’s a not-very-well-stifled shriek and the sound of a salad bowl smashing on the floor, and Arthur and Merlin jump apart. When Arthur turns, he isn’t the least bit surprised to see Elena standing there looking absolutely gobsmacked with lettuce and vinaigrette all over her shoes, actually pointing at them like someone in a panto. “You! The two of you!” she exclaims.
Morgana’s flat is posh, if not quite as posh as Arthur’s, but it’s not big enough that Elena’s screech didn’t bring everyone poking their heads out of the living room and then coming closer when they see the tableau in the kitchen. Since the game is up anyway, Arthur holds out his hand and waits for Merlin to take it. It takes a few seconds, but he does, and Elena lets out another squeak that Gwen mirrors a second later when she figures it out.
Before Arthur can think of what to say, Morgana pops out of her bedroom, mirror in hand and smug smile firmly in place. “Well, are you going to tell us how long you’ve been keeping secrets? Naughty, Arthur, you let me keep thinking you were heartbroken and I made you muffins.”
“I shared them with Merlin,” Arthur says, because he did, and he thought they were congratulations-on-getting-away-from-our-father muffins anyway. “And we figured things out about two weeks ago now.”
“Why don’t I get muffins?” Gwaine asks. “Also, Ellie, you won the pool!”
Morgana swans over to him and pats his cheek. “If you get your heart broken, I’ll make you muffins. Orange pineapple, I know you like that. And yes, Elena, you can collect your winnings from me soon as I find the tin.”
“Oh, fuck off, you didn’t really have a bet.”
“We did,” says Elyan, “and actually, Elena, you don’t get it.” When Arthur peers around everyone to see him, he’s grinning. “They’ve just finally got their act together where dating is concerned. For the fucking bit, Leon won.”
That, of course, brings on quite the uproar, while Elyan lords it over everyone for knowing the full story before even Morgana (and the look in Morgana’s eye promises retribution for this particular surprise, since she understandably thought he’d confided everything there was to the Merlin situation to her) and Arthur tries not to look as mortified as he feels and Merlin turns redder and redder and occasionally tries to extract his hand from Arthur’s grip. “We’re taking things slow,” Arthur interrupts loudly when Gwen and Elena start squealing very disturbing things about a wedding. “And I’d appreciate it if you lot wouldn’t harass my boyfriend.”
His voice betrays him by going a bit soft on the last two words, and Gwen, Elena, and Leon all give him identical fond looks. Which might have something to do with the startled, pleased expression on Merlin’s face. Morgana clears her throat and he reminds himself to buy her something frivolous and expensive when he’s got a job again. “All the more reason to get the scrying mirror out,” she says. “Everyone into the living room.”
Nobody dares disobey Morgana when she’s being firm, so everyone turns around and goes back to the living room and the chairs that someone set out while Arthur and Merlin were in the kitchen, casting occasional reproachful looks behind them. They all pick their seats, and Arthur pushes his a few inches closer to Merlin’s before he sits down. “Could have been worse,” he whispers.
“Just wait until Gwen corners me.”
“I have,” says Morgana with a pointed look at the two of them, “set this up for about five years from now. It’s long enough after the last time I set it for that long that you’ll be getting new things. Who wants to start?”
Gwen and Lancelot end up doing it first, since Gwen is sitting right to Morgana’s left. “Tough night with a second one,” says Gwen when she comes up, and then whacks Lancelot in the arm. “And you were staying late at work, you wanker.”
Lancelot takes the mirror from her. “We’ll see about that.” Twenty seconds later, he comes out of his trance smiling ruefully. “You’re right, but if it’s any help I’m getting ready to go home.”
Elyan’s next, with a night at work that makes him make a disgusted face, followed by Gwaine, who comes out smirking but not talking and Elena, who’s blushing bright red and stares at her lap while she mumbles an obvious lie about being at work. That brings it to Leon, who has thirty seconds and comes back to awareness with his brows knit. “I’m with a woman, we seem to have been together for a while, but I’m quite sure I haven’t met her yet.” He shrugs. “I suppose I will.”
That means it’s Arthur’s turn, and Arthur takes it automatically but doesn’t look right away. He’s chosen quite a lot of things lately based on what he’s seen in visions, and he isn’t really sure if he wants to know what differences the choices have made. Is he still with Merlin? Or will their tentative attempts at a relationship fizzle out because doing it now makes them miss some key event in the future that keeps them together forever? Whatever it is, though, he wants to find out for himself. He looks at Merlin, who’s just watching with his head cocked to the side, and then at Morgana, who rolls her eyes. “Not for me tonight, actually,” he says. “I think I’m just going to take things as they come.”
Merlin beams at him, takes the mirror among the coos and snickers, and passes it on to Morgana without even glancing inside. It looks like they might finally be on the same page.
*
Four and a half years later
Arthur kicks the door to their flat shut and drops the takeaway on the table, sushi for Merlin and a microwave meal from the Tesco’s down the street because Arthur refuses to eat anything that’s been prepared in the same vicinity as raw fish. When Merlin doesn’t immediately sweep down on the table, Arthur looks around, and sure enough, there he is on the couch, nodding along to his headphones while he peers at his laptop. “Honey, I’m home,” he shouts, just to be obnoxious, and Merlin jumps.
“I thought you’d be another half hour,” he says by way of apology, and goes back to his laptop, although he at least slips his headphones off. “We’ll eat in here, yeah?”
“I see the romance has gone,” mutters Arthur, but he warms his meal up anyway and puts Merlin’s food on a plate because he always spills it everywhere if he eats from the carton. Merlin just hums and doesn’t bother looking up from his work, which has been eating his evenings for days now but will hopefully end soon when the vote on the latest piece of anti-discrimination legislation goes through. At least all of Arthur’s work on it happens during the day, but Merlin’s volunteering on top of taking care of his clients. Arthur sets their meals down on the coffee table and joins Merlin on the couch, allowing him thirty seconds before poking him. “Come on, you do actually have to eat it, you can’t just pick the nutrients up by osmosis.”
“You and my mother.” Merlin rolls his eyes but obediently eats a few bites before getting distracted again.
Arthur’s too tired to scold him much after a day lobbying among every party that will listen for the law that will hopefully tie his father’s hands for good where hiring policies are concerned, as well as other business owners like him. Instead, he finishes his meal and then buries his nose in Merlin’s hair and nuzzles at him, which gets disappointingly little reaction. So of course he nips Merlin’s ear.
Merlin yelps, and then laughs. “Seriously, Arthur, if I’ve told you once, I’ve told you a thousand times, just because they’re large doesn’t mean they’re sensitive.”
Success. Arthur pulls away and grins at him, getting a grin in return. “I just can’t help myself and you know it. And I’m storing up, since chances are you won’t be coming to bed tonight. Again.”
Merlin just smiles, shakes his head, and leans over to kiss Arthur’s jaw. “Pretty soon, I promise, and it will be just like before.”
“Hmm.” Arthur grabs Merlin’s hand when he takes it away from his keyboard for a second and rubs their rings together, then has to look down. Six months on and it’s still sometimes hard to think of Merlin as his husband. “Not quite like before,” he points out, barely paying attention anymore. “Promotion, and all.” He groans and leans back on the couch. “Gods, I don’t want to go back to the office.”
Finally, Merlin puts the laptop down, moving their plates out of the way to do it, and loops his arms around Arthur’s neck. “You’ll be running the world soon enough,” he whispers, and Arthur really can’t do anything but kiss him.
They’re getting farther than they have in more than a week, what with how busy they’ve been and how often their friends require their presence, and Arthur’s just pressing his husband back into the couch to see if he can have his wicked way with him before Merlin remembers he probably ought to be working when he realizes just why the conversation they’ve been having sounds so familiar and bursts out laughing. Merlin pulls back, looking offended, and Arthur has to sit up and take deep breaths to get himself under control. “Sorry, I’m sorry,” he gasps eventually.
“What on earth was that all about?” Merlin asks, still sprawled out on the couch, and Arthur seriously considers shelving the conversation for later.
Instead, he grabs Merlin’s hand again. “Anything about the conversation we just had give you a bit of deja vu, perhaps?”
Merlin squints at him. “Should it have? I am really tired, you know.”
“About five years ago,” Arthur starts, and Merlin’s fingers twitch in his, “Morgana had a dinner party and thought it would be clever to get her scrying mirror out, and--”
It’s Merlin’s turn to burst out laughing. “Oh, no. But it wasn’t quite the same, right? So we don’t have to tell Morgana and let her be smug forever?”
“I have no intention of mentioning it to Morgana, and yes, it was a bit different. But still, close enough, for all I think it was in a different context then.” Arthur looks around. “And a different flat.” A year ago, when they were finally moving in together, they’d looked at nearly twenty flats, and the first one that had suited them both had been the one they saw in the first vision. They looked around at it, looked at each other, and walked right out without even inspecting the bedroom.
It’s not the only difference from the futures they saw while they were trying to get things figured out, and Arthur knows he isn’t the only one who catalogues each one and treasures it as a sign that this really is something that they’re doing for themselves. Merlin was the one who proposed, two weeks before Arthur was planning to do it, and he and Morgana together had apparently schemed to get Arthur’s mother’s ring out of the vault and resized. Arthur still wears it, along with his wedding ring, even if it does make Gwaine point out that it makes him the girl every time he remembers to. Some things are the same as the visions, though, and to his surprise, Arthur doesn’t mind that much.
When he looks back at Merlin, he’s propped himself up on his elbows and is just watching Arthur, eyebrows raised. “That’s okay, right? You aren’t going to have some sort of freak-out that this means all that mess was all because you’re destined to buy me sushi and harass me on our couch? Because if so, you can call Morgana, I’m too knackered to deal with it.”
Arthur rolls his eyes and leans over him. “No, because I figured most of that came with the marriage territory. And I would never call Morgana for that, didn’t we just say we’re never telling her because she would be smug forever? I would call Elena, if anyone.”
Merlin snorts. “As if Elena wouldn’t tell Morgana immediately.”
Arthur considers that for a moment. “Leon, then.”
“On a date with Freya tonight,” says Merlin, and Arthur can’t help grinning at that, because setting them up when Freya got a job in London is one of the better ideas he’s had, if he does say so himself. Merlin just laughs and shakes his head. “You’re going to become an inveterate matchmaker in our old age, aren’t you?”
“Probably, with Gwen and Lance’s brood of terrors running around.” He kisses Merlin before pulling away again. “I really, truly, don’t mind. That’s why I was laughing. I actually think we ought to celebrate it. Coming full circle, and all.”
Merlin laughs. “Is this celebrating going to have something to do with the fact that we’ve been too busy to actually use that ridiculous bed you insisted on lately?”
“Or the couch.” Arthur grins at him. “I’m flexible.”
Merlin pulls him back down on top of him, and Arthur goes, arranging their arms into a position that won’t let either of them fall off the couch and putting his lips against Merlin’s with the ease of practice. He probably should insist on going to the bed, since he can’t remember the last night when both of them were on it for a full night’s sleep, but he’s comfortable where he is, and when Merlin inevitably whines afterwards about being hungry since he’s an idiot who doesn’t finish his dinner, the remains of the sushi will be right there. Unless they knock it off the coffee table, and he can’t help laughing into Merlin’s mouth about that. Merlin pulls away just far enough to speak against his mouth. “I love you, you daft sod,” he says, and goes back to kissing Arthur.
And that, Arthur thinks, is more than enough reason to enjoy living in the present.