Sweet and Delectable, Chapter 2
Title: Sweet and Delectable
Author: Phreakycat
Rating: M
Pairing: Arthur/Merlin
Genre: Modern AU, romance, slash, some angst
Previous Chapters: Chapter One
Warnings: Some violence in future chapters, eventual m/m Sexitimes. Shameless over-use of pastry metaphors. Graphic descriptions of baked goods and sugary concoctions. The very likely possibility that this fic will make you run out of your flat (possibly shoe-less and in a bath robe) searching desperately for the nearest bakery. Weight gain. Cavities. You probably shouldn't read this if you're diabetic.
Summary: Merlin is a talented pastry chef in London. Arthur is a Constable who wanders into his bakery at 3 AM looking for coffee. Merlin determines to seduce him through the fine art of baked goods. Things don't quite go as planned.
Author's note: SO SO SO SO sorry about the long delay, folks! Real Life got in the way in a big, unpleasant manner, and unfortunately fanfiction took a back seat for a bit. Things are settling down now, so hopefully I can update much more regularly. This part is pretty short (again, sorry!) because I'm reworking some of the middle and end sections. I figured short was better than nothing, though. Right? *makes hopeful face*
****
Two months into their strange early morning friendship, Merlin determines to find out if Arthur is queer.
This is easier said than done.
Merlin starts subtle, feeling out the situation. He makes it a point to drop the names of a few of the better-known gay bars in London into casual conversation. Arthur declares that he simply doesn’t have time to go out clubbing. Arthur could be totally unfamiliar with the bars, or simply sidestepping the issue. Either way, that’s a dead end.
Merlin comments on known gay celebrities. Even throws in some observations about pretty actresses, watching for a possible spark of interest either way. Arthur, it turns out, has no tele and no desire to follow celebrity gossip.
When Merlin finally becomes frustrated enough to boldly blurt out “So, are you seeing anyone?” Arthur simply laughs and mutters “As if I have time to date,” (which at least means he’s single).
Merlin briefly considers baking Arthur a marzipan cake in the shape of an enormous cock, possibly with the words DO YOU GO FOR ME? emblazoned on it in icing. As it is, he simply hasn’t the time or the spare marzipan for such an undertaking. Plus, he suspects it would make him seem slightly more than insane.
Finally, Merlin decides that perhaps the best course of action would be to subtly out himself and hope that Arthur gets a clue.
This, as well, is easier said than done.
He tries dropping hints. He plays some Ani DiFranco on the stereo one morning and sings along to In or Out. Arthur merely laughs at him and asks if he’s secretly become a lesbian.
Merlin wears a rainbow wristband the following day, but by the time Arthur saunters in it’s so coated with flour and scone batter that the colorful motif is completely unrecognizable.
He starts conversations on politics relating to gay rights, plainly stating his positions on gay marriage and anti-discrimination legislature. But Arthur, tired and distracted by a sample of Merlin’s new Bündner Nusstorte recipe, does little more than make non-committal noises and lick caramelized nut filling from his fingers.
Finally, Merlin’s had enough.
Friday morning, Merlin pours Arthur’s coffee into his favorite Torchwood mug - the one with Captain Jack on it. Arthur raises an eyebrow at the mug.
“Do you like Torchwood?” Merlin asks, stirring a bowl of créme pâtissiere.
“No tele, remember?” Arthur says. “God, your coffee has gotten even worse, if that’s possible.”
Merlin rolls his eyes and passes Arthur a warm slice of blueberry sour cream coffee cake to cover the burnt taste of the coffee.
“Yeah, but everyone’s seen Torchwood.”
“I saw a few minutes of an ep once, at Morgana’s,” Arthur admits around a mouthful of cake. “Was alright.”
Not giving himself time to think about what he’s saying, Merlin just goes for it.
“Captain Jack Harkness is just about the hottest thing on TV,” he says in a rush. “I want to marry him and have little immortal babies with him.”
Subtlety hasn’t worked thus far - might as well be blunt about it.
Arthur makes a slight choking sound and has to gulp a mouthful of coffee before he can speak.
“Well,” he says, hoarse and sounding a little bewildered. “I had no idea you were such a… Torchwood fan.”
“Yup,” Merlin says, trying out a shaky grin. “For quite some time now.”
“I see,” Arthur says. “I thought maybe - I thought perhaps I’d gotten a sort of... Torchwood vibe from you at some point.”
“Well I wasn’t trying to be subtle about it,” Merlin says. “Quite the opposite, in fact.”
“So, you’ve been trying to tell me about your… viewing preferences? Or, rather… Look, can we drop the tele metaphor, please? I mean, this isn’t just an epically weird conversation about Torchwood - we are talking about your -uh - sexuality, right?”
“Yeah,” Merlin says, chest tightening with anxiety. He feels a bit like a soufflé, shaky and delicate and poised to collapse inward with a single jolt.
Why had he thought it was a good idea to out himself?
Oh, God, this is a bad idea. Arthur’s going to leave and never come back, maybe have a chuckle with his rozzer friends about the queer little baker boy who outed himself with a fucking Torchwood reference.
“Okay,” Arthur says, snapping Merlin out of his internal panic attack. “Hey - can I have another slice of that coffee cake?”
“What?” Merlin says stupidly.
"Cof-fee cake,” Arthur says, drawing the words out as though he’s speaking to a stupid child, or possibly a moderately intelligent dog. “You know, that breakfast cake with the blueberries and the delicious crumb topping?”
“No,” Merlin says, clutching the bowl of crème patisserie to his chest protectively. “I mean - I know what coffee cake is, I just meant - ‘Okay?’ That’s all you have to say?”
“Should I be saying something else?” Arthur asks. “Wait - did you expect me to react like some sort of bigot or something?”
“No!”
But I was hoping for something more along the lines of “What’re the odds! I’m gay too! Oh, Merlin, take me - take me now!”
“Well, good,” Arthur says, actually looking relieved. “I mean, I don’t care if you go for éclairs rather than donuts. It’s all just pastry, right?”
Merlin blinks stupidly at him.
“Speaking of pastry, how about that coffee cake? And that’s not another euphemism -“ Arthur rushes to clarify. “I’d just like some more cake, please. Try and snag me a piece with extra crumb topping if you would.”
Merlin allows himself just a moment to breathe before he fetches Arthur the coffee cake. He still has no idea which way Arthur swings, but Arthur knows, and he’s still here.
Making pastry metaphors, no less.
If Merlin didn’t love Arthur before, he’s really screwed now.
Chapter Three
Author: Phreakycat
Rating: M
Pairing: Arthur/Merlin
Genre: Modern AU, romance, slash, some angst
Previous Chapters: Chapter One
Warnings: Some violence in future chapters, eventual m/m Sexitimes. Shameless over-use of pastry metaphors. Graphic descriptions of baked goods and sugary concoctions. The very likely possibility that this fic will make you run out of your flat (possibly shoe-less and in a bath robe) searching desperately for the nearest bakery. Weight gain. Cavities. You probably shouldn't read this if you're diabetic.
Summary: Merlin is a talented pastry chef in London. Arthur is a Constable who wanders into his bakery at 3 AM looking for coffee. Merlin determines to seduce him through the fine art of baked goods. Things don't quite go as planned.
Author's note: SO SO SO SO sorry about the long delay, folks! Real Life got in the way in a big, unpleasant manner, and unfortunately fanfiction took a back seat for a bit. Things are settling down now, so hopefully I can update much more regularly. This part is pretty short (again, sorry!) because I'm reworking some of the middle and end sections. I figured short was better than nothing, though. Right? *makes hopeful face*
****
Two months into their strange early morning friendship, Merlin determines to find out if Arthur is queer.
This is easier said than done.
Merlin starts subtle, feeling out the situation. He makes it a point to drop the names of a few of the better-known gay bars in London into casual conversation. Arthur declares that he simply doesn’t have time to go out clubbing. Arthur could be totally unfamiliar with the bars, or simply sidestepping the issue. Either way, that’s a dead end.
Merlin comments on known gay celebrities. Even throws in some observations about pretty actresses, watching for a possible spark of interest either way. Arthur, it turns out, has no tele and no desire to follow celebrity gossip.
When Merlin finally becomes frustrated enough to boldly blurt out “So, are you seeing anyone?” Arthur simply laughs and mutters “As if I have time to date,” (which at least means he’s single).
Merlin briefly considers baking Arthur a marzipan cake in the shape of an enormous cock, possibly with the words DO YOU GO FOR ME? emblazoned on it in icing. As it is, he simply hasn’t the time or the spare marzipan for such an undertaking. Plus, he suspects it would make him seem slightly more than insane.
Finally, Merlin decides that perhaps the best course of action would be to subtly out himself and hope that Arthur gets a clue.
This, as well, is easier said than done.
He tries dropping hints. He plays some Ani DiFranco on the stereo one morning and sings along to In or Out. Arthur merely laughs at him and asks if he’s secretly become a lesbian.
Merlin wears a rainbow wristband the following day, but by the time Arthur saunters in it’s so coated with flour and scone batter that the colorful motif is completely unrecognizable.
He starts conversations on politics relating to gay rights, plainly stating his positions on gay marriage and anti-discrimination legislature. But Arthur, tired and distracted by a sample of Merlin’s new Bündner Nusstorte recipe, does little more than make non-committal noises and lick caramelized nut filling from his fingers.
Finally, Merlin’s had enough.
Friday morning, Merlin pours Arthur’s coffee into his favorite Torchwood mug - the one with Captain Jack on it. Arthur raises an eyebrow at the mug.
“Do you like Torchwood?” Merlin asks, stirring a bowl of créme pâtissiere.
“No tele, remember?” Arthur says. “God, your coffee has gotten even worse, if that’s possible.”
Merlin rolls his eyes and passes Arthur a warm slice of blueberry sour cream coffee cake to cover the burnt taste of the coffee.
“Yeah, but everyone’s seen Torchwood.”
“I saw a few minutes of an ep once, at Morgana’s,” Arthur admits around a mouthful of cake. “Was alright.”
Not giving himself time to think about what he’s saying, Merlin just goes for it.
“Captain Jack Harkness is just about the hottest thing on TV,” he says in a rush. “I want to marry him and have little immortal babies with him.”
Subtlety hasn’t worked thus far - might as well be blunt about it.
Arthur makes a slight choking sound and has to gulp a mouthful of coffee before he can speak.
“Well,” he says, hoarse and sounding a little bewildered. “I had no idea you were such a… Torchwood fan.”
“Yup,” Merlin says, trying out a shaky grin. “For quite some time now.”
“I see,” Arthur says. “I thought maybe - I thought perhaps I’d gotten a sort of... Torchwood vibe from you at some point.”
“Well I wasn’t trying to be subtle about it,” Merlin says. “Quite the opposite, in fact.”
“So, you’ve been trying to tell me about your… viewing preferences? Or, rather… Look, can we drop the tele metaphor, please? I mean, this isn’t just an epically weird conversation about Torchwood - we are talking about your -uh - sexuality, right?”
“Yeah,” Merlin says, chest tightening with anxiety. He feels a bit like a soufflé, shaky and delicate and poised to collapse inward with a single jolt.
Why had he thought it was a good idea to out himself?
Oh, God, this is a bad idea. Arthur’s going to leave and never come back, maybe have a chuckle with his rozzer friends about the queer little baker boy who outed himself with a fucking Torchwood reference.
“Okay,” Arthur says, snapping Merlin out of his internal panic attack. “Hey - can I have another slice of that coffee cake?”
“What?” Merlin says stupidly.
"Cof-fee cake,” Arthur says, drawing the words out as though he’s speaking to a stupid child, or possibly a moderately intelligent dog. “You know, that breakfast cake with the blueberries and the delicious crumb topping?”
“No,” Merlin says, clutching the bowl of crème patisserie to his chest protectively. “I mean - I know what coffee cake is, I just meant - ‘Okay?’ That’s all you have to say?”
“Should I be saying something else?” Arthur asks. “Wait - did you expect me to react like some sort of bigot or something?”
“No!”
But I was hoping for something more along the lines of “What’re the odds! I’m gay too! Oh, Merlin, take me - take me now!”
“Well, good,” Arthur says, actually looking relieved. “I mean, I don’t care if you go for éclairs rather than donuts. It’s all just pastry, right?”
Merlin blinks stupidly at him.
“Speaking of pastry, how about that coffee cake? And that’s not another euphemism -“ Arthur rushes to clarify. “I’d just like some more cake, please. Try and snag me a piece with extra crumb topping if you would.”
Merlin allows himself just a moment to breathe before he fetches Arthur the coffee cake. He still has no idea which way Arthur swings, but Arthur knows, and he’s still here.
Making pastry metaphors, no less.
If Merlin didn’t love Arthur before, he’s really screwed now.
Chapter Three