Continua Part 5
Masterpost . Part 1 . Part 2 . Part 3 . Part 4
Australia is pretty, Arthur decides, but definitely not for him. The accent is jarring, an unfamiliar butchering of his own language that somehow sounds inherently lazy. The whole place feels like that, too, and he thinks it's probably something to do with proximity to beaches like these. They are warm and picturesque-of course people don't feel like working when the ocean and sand are right there, beckoning.
Arthur spends most of his first full day alternating between swimming and eating, trying to pretend like this is a holiday rather than hiding out. The resort has a pool, which is pleasantly sand-free and doesn't dump waves on him, and he lies by it most of the day in the shade. In the evening he drinks whiskey and takes a sedative to drown out the fear and, stupidly, the loneliness he feels taking over his life. In the morning he reaches out for a body that isn't there.
He sends a text to Gwen after a breakfast, ignoring the steadily increasing number of voicemails. In it he says he's sorry, that he just needs some time away from everything, then he turns off his phone.
When Arthur gets home, Gwen is a mess.
She clings to him when she sees him, wraps her arms around him and holds him as tight as she can. He expected yelling, but now he sees that she was worried, and he feels even worse. Somehow he managed to underestimate her again. Had thought she might even appreciate the solitude, the chance to spend time with Lance. She probably didn't even let herself see Lance while he was gone.
He cradles her head against, whispers, "Shh, it's all right," and then she's pulling away and biting her lip.
"Arthur-"
He can see it in her eyes, that she's finally going to say it, that this is too far, that disappearing for two weeks is unforgivable. For a moment he considers letting her say it, wishes that he could let her be the 'bad guy', but that wouldn't be fair.
"Stop," he says, putting a finger over her lips. He trails it along her cheek and down her neck, feels how perfect her skin is there, smooth and soft and warm. "I love you," he says with perfect honesty.
"Arthur, I-"
"I love you," he says more firmly. "But we shouldn't be together anymore. You deserve better than this, better than me. But please know, I love you, and I always have. I'm just a bit useless with relationships." Gwen looks crushed and Arthur doesn't know how to say the next bit, but he has to, if only to ease her mind. "And I know about Lance."
She swallows and wraps her arms around herself. "Lance?"
He tries to look understanding. "I'm okay with it."
"What?" she asks.
Arthur's a little thrown by her reaction, but it doesn't change how he feels. "I mean, I'm okay, with you and Lance."
Gwen's face changes from shocked to confused to angry in the space of a breath. "How can you-how can you be 'all right' with me being with Lance?" Anger has definitely won out, and Gwen heaves in air and seems on the verge of venting it straight back at Arthur. "Oh God," she says, eyes going wide with some horrified thought. "You've been with someone else."
And that is not at all how Arthur was supposed to be ending his marriage. "Gwen-"
"That's it, isn't it? Isn't it?" Her hands fly to her hair and she squeezes, grips it tightly. "Oh, God."
She turns away and heads down the hall. Arthur follows, arm outstretched but hesitant to touch.
"I should have known," she chastises herself. "How could I not have realised?" Frustrated, her hands tighten into fists and then release. Tighten and release. And then she spins, spits out an agonised, "He was my friend."
There are tears threatening to fall, but Gwen's too strong to let them. Arthur's not sure if the last words are aimed at him, so he doesn't respond. Gwen's not an idiot, and there's no way he could convince her it was anyone else now that she's decided. Arthur wants to defend himself to her, explain that he had to or Merlin would have died. But there's no way she'd ever believe him. And he doesn't want to sink any lower in her eyes.
"Like I said, you deserve better than me."
He steps around her, hating how betrayed she looks, but hating even more that there is no way to make this better, to make any of this not hurt Gwen. There's a feeling of inevitability to how this is playing out, like he was foolish to imagine it could have gone any other way. In the sitting room, he pours himself a glass of whiskey and downs it quickly, then pours another and one for Gwen.
He hands it to her. "I do love you," he repeats, but she just glares at him over the crystal edge of her tumbler. "You deserve to be happy."
"You-" she starts, then grits her teeth, placing her whiskey on the table. "I have never, ever, slept with Lance." Her voice is eerily calm, at least to Arthur's ears. "I would never betray you like that."
Arthur chokes on his drink at Gwen's last words, because that isn't what he was-And how could he have been wrong? "But Merlin said-"
"I never said I was sleeping with Lance! I care for him, but that doesn't mean I'm-" She lets out a frustrated groan. "If we couldn't work things out, then yes, something might have happened. But-how could you ever think I would cheat on you? How could you think that of me?"
Arthur downs the rest of his drink, feels more awful in this moment then he has ever felt before. "I would have understood," he says.
She's flummoxed and angry when she replies. "Well, don't think that I will." She drinks the scotch, forces it down with three large gulps, then lets out the burning breath that follows. "You can stay on the sofa tonight, but tomorrow you need to leave."
"No, no it's fine. I'll go tonight." He already has a booking, but telling Gwen that would be an unnecessary cruelty.
She nods then leaves him standing there, glass in hand. Arthur has always admired Gwen's confidence, her poise in a bad situation. He sips at his drink, glances around the room, which should feel like home but doesn't. How could it when he was always split in two, only allowing part of himself to be married to Gwen, to live a normal life? It was probably inevitable that they wouldn't survive as a couple.
He throws back the rest of his drink, takes both glasses to the kitchen and places them side-by-side next to the sink. There was a time when that would have indicated a night of chatting and love making between them. Not anymore.
Arthur returns to work straight away, of course, and spends all day, every day at the office, partly because he has three weeks worth of accounts and approvals to catch up on, but mostly to avoid Gwen. He moves into his own place after spending the first week in a hotel, organises movers to collect all his belongings but there's very little they have to take: clothes, some books and personal effects. Gwen is still angry, but Arthur likes to think he can see an edge of relief emerging.
Arthur thinks about Merlin whenever he isn't actively using his brain. He wonders where Merlin is, what he's doing, ponders calling Gwaine to see if he's heard from him. The addiction must have vanished along with the curse, because Arthur has no doubt Merlin would have tracked him down by now if he still craved it. Which also means the curse must be gone, but Arthur feels no relief.
The stress is unbearable after the first month: the long hours, his guilt about Gwen, his preoccupation with Merlin, and the fact that Arthur is dealing with a temp again because his PA is apparently not coming back to work. It's when Arthur is quite literally at his breaking point, face red with exasperation, file of incorrect income figures in his hand which have been given to the press, that Merlin walks back into his office.
Arthur is mid-rant, flailing and yelling and generally venting all his frustrations out at the poor sod who will take his insults too personally, when he turns back to find Merlin standing in his place, looking tired but tidy and dressed for work.
Arthur stops. "You're back," he says.
Merlin nods, gives an uncertain smile and Arthur can feel a million pounds of stress lift off his shoulders. That smile. God he's missed it.
"You can go," he says absently to the cause of his ire, eyes still fixed on Merlin.
Once they're alone, Merlin pulls out the guest chair and sits. "Gwen called. Said you weren't being nice to anyone and asked if I could come and fix that."
Arthur drops the financials onto his desk like they're a snake. He can see Gwen's motives badly hidden behind this. She's worried about Arthur now, and apparently decided to start intervening in his life. He could resent it, but she's trying to be well meaning. "How is she?" he asks.
"Good. Well, she sounded all right. We didn't exactly talk much, and I'm not stupid enough to ask her why she was being short with me."
"We split up." Arthur moves the folder so he can sit at his desk without it glaring at it. "She knows about us and isn't happy. Understandably."
Merlin's face screws up in confusion. "You told her?"
"No, God no," he says adamantly. "She'd think I was crazy. Crazier. No, I meant just about us being together."
Merlin purses his lips, looks away from Arthur and says, "I thought you would still try and work things out. Eventually."
"She's better off without me. And I . . . needed to be by myself."
Merlin examines Arthur's face for a long time. "To adjust," he says finally.
"Something like that."
They're silent for a moment and then Merlin gives Arthur a small smile, something so easy and unencumbered, and Arthur feels it deep inside his chest. Merlin being back has fixed something already, and Arthur can breathe again, nice and deep, calming.
"So," he says, trying for a lighter tone. "How much of my rant did you hear?"
"What I wasn't in the room for I could hear in the corridor."
"I can't believe I'm saying this but . . . Merlin, I need you." Arthur gestures at the small pile. "This is such a fucking mess."
"I could maybe try and turn back time?" Merlin suggests.
Arthur balks, checks that no one outside is looking at them with any added interest. "No," he whispers loudly. Merlin's smile disappears and Arthur swears because it's not-he wasn't- "Look, just, we'll handle this the normal way, all right?"
"Okay." Merlin fidgets in the chair. "I was only joking, really. Well, mostly. How about you start on a press release about the error and I'll handle accounts?" he asks, and Arthur could just hug him.
"Thank you," he says instead.
They have one conversation about what happened, and it's late that night, after everyone else has left. Arthur has donned his jacket and looped his scarf around his neck, ready to leave but unable to until he at least broaches the subject. He hovers next to Merlin's desk and when faced with a questioning look, asks, "So . . . I take it everything went okay, then?"
Merlin places a final few things in his bag and zips it up. "Yeah, it did."
It's a much shorter response than Arthur was expecting, and something about Merlin's tone gives the impression it's not exactly a welcome topic. Considering the way Arthur left, that's understandable.
"I'm sorry for leaving you there," he says. "It seemed to be the safer option, for both of us."
Merlin gives him a sad, thin smile. "It's okay. I know why you did it."
Arthur nods then looks down over the partitioned off desks, thinks he should leave but can't make himself move. They shared the very worst of each other and prevailed. Surely there is something else he should say?
"Well, goodnight," Merlin says, effectively silencing anything further Arthur might have said. He hauls his bag over his shoulder and walks towards the door while Arthur watches.
It's almost as though they've returned to normal-back to what they were like before they ever shared a kiss. Merlin's a perfectly efficient employee, smiling too brightly and giving the impression he functions on a combination of luck and rare moments of brilliance. And Arthur, well. He's just like he used to be as well. Being too proper, mostly because he doesn't know how else to behave.
He loves Merlin. He's always loved Merlin to some extent, but at least before he was able to fuck him regularly. Now, all he can do is watch and then go back to his sparsely decorated apartment where he wanks while staring at unfulfilling porn. This weekend he's determined to go out and find someone to sleep with, because otherwise he's going to lose it and start propositioning people at work. One person in particular, probably. And he already knows how that will go.
Merlin and Gwaine are still together. Merlin shows up every day looking stylish and tired, and then at lunch he calls Gwaine. Sometimes they talk for a while, other days it's just a minute, but it's consistent. Routine. One that doesn't involve Arthur.
"You look tired," Merlin says, walking into the office and placing a pile of reports on the desk for Arthur to check over.
"Have you looked at yourself lately?"
"I know; I've been staying up late." Arthur raises his hand to let Merlin know that he can stop right there. Arthur really doesn't want to hear about that. "Not like that," Merlin says, rolling his eyes. "I've been practising, with magic."
Relieved, Arthur sits back in his chair. "And how is that going?"
"Okay, I think. It's just hard . . ." he trails off.
"Hard?"
Sighing, Merlin pulls out the chair opposite Arthur and sits. "The hiding it thing. I tried to tell Gwaine and I just-I couldn't."
Arthur closes his eyes. He supposes he'll have to do this sometimes, give good relationship advice to Merlin, because bad advice will just make Merlin mad at him.
"You don't have to tell him," he says, opens his eyes to find Merlin staring at him like he just spoke a foreign language.
"But I want to."
Arthur leans back, feels the crick in his neck that's been there ever since he woke up this morning. "If you really think Gwaine won't believe you, or that you'll scare him off or something, then just keep it to yourself. If it's really that important to you that he knows, wait until it's a safe time to tell him."
Merlin lets out a deep breath. "You're right," he says.
"I'm always right," Arthur snarks back, then leans forward and picks up the paperwork. It's not a large pile, but it still pulls uncomfortably at his muscles to lift it.
"I can help you with that," Merlin says. "Your neck," he adds when Arthur doesn't immediately know what he's talking about.
"It's fine," Arthur says, because he doesn't need Merlin touching him.
"No, really, I can help." Merlin stands up and walks around the back of Arthur's chair, places one hand on either side of his neck and starts to squeeze.
"Merlin, stop. It's not-it's not appropriate."
That actually makes Merlin chuckle. "You've fucked me in here before, you know. Several times. Just relax, no one's looking."
Arthur glances out through the glass across the office and can only see people staring at their computer screens. Merlin's right, no one is interested in what's going on inside his office.
"Gaius showed me this thing," Merlin says as his thumbs rub circles on Arthur's shoulders. "Can I?" he asks.
The thought of Merlin touching him with his magic has Arthur almost pulling away. He doesn't like the lack of control, or how alien it feels to be touched and manipulated by something he can't see.
"Please, Arthur? It'll be nice."
There's something else in Merlin's voice, and Arthur, who's never been very good at saying no to Merlin, can already feel himself giving in.
"Stop if I tell you to," he says, before sitting back in the chair and allowing Merlin to touch him again.
"Okay, tell me if it gets to be too much." Merlin starts to rub, little rotations along the sides of Arthur's neck. And then it . . . intensifies. The deep, plunging feeling emanates out and his skin is warmed. "Is that all right?"
"Yes," Arthur says. Really, it feels amazing, but he's not going to admit to that.
"Okay, I'm going to locate the pain now."
It only takes a second. Arthur can feel as the tinge in his neck is plucked and eased. Despite himself, he lets out a groan as everything slots back where it should be. All the while the little massage has continued, loosening his tension.
"Good?" Merlin asks. There's a hint of cheek in his voice, because he's heard Arthur, knows that it feels wonderful.
"Very good." There's a moment that follows where Merlin keeps touching him even though the pain is gone and neither of them register that that's not quite right. Arthur does first, and he stiffens under Merlin's hands, clueing the other in. "Thank you," Arthur says, not wanting to ruin what was a very good massage. "That feels a lot better." It actually feels perfect, and Arthur's misgivings about the magic may have faded. Just a little.
"You're welcome," Merlin says, returning to his side of the desk. "It's nice that it can be useful." He shrugs and leaves, and Arthur wonders all afternoon if maybe he should ask Merlin to use his magic more often.
The next day, it's a pen mark on Arthur's shirt. He was careless, turned to type while still holding the biro in his hand and now there's a long thin streak of blue running up his sleeve. It's not a big deal; like most executives, Arthur has a stash of laundered shirts for just these moments. Merlin knows that, but he winks at Arthur and mutters some nonsense, his eyes flash and all of a sudden Arthur's shirt is pristine-better than new.
Arthur's a little speechless at first, recovers slightly and says, "Wow."
"I know, right?" Merlin says, more than a little delighted with himself.
"I might just have to add my laundry to your list of duties. This is remarkable." Arthur lifts his sleeve and smells and it's . . . clean, no hint of chemicals or fake floral scents.
"You'd have to pay me more," Merlin replies, still grinning. Arthur wants so badly to grab Merlin in that moment, to pull him down into his lap, to kiss his stupid proud smile and make out with absolute glee. He settles for returning the ridiculous beaming expression, not hiding one little bit how much he enjoys that they have this together. He thinks the feeling might be mutual.
On Friday, Arthur packs up at six and grabs his briefcase. Merlin is sitting at his desk, frowning at his screen.
"Staying late?" Arthur asks.
"What?" Merlin glances at the time, rubs his face. "No, just didn't notice how late it was." He starts closing down his windows as he says, "Any plans for the weekend?"
Arthur looks up in surprise. Normally, no, he doesn't do anything on the weekends other than work, or work out, or wank.
"I was planning on heading out tonight."
"Out?" Merlin asks.
"Yeah, you know, to a club or something." He cringes because really, he may as well have just said he needs to get laid, because Merlin knows Arthur, knows he can't stand those places.
"I could use a drink," Merlin says quickly. Too quickly.
Arthur side-eyes him as he slips his arms into his jacket. "Gwaine's not expecting you?"
There's more than a little sadness on Merlin's face and he gives a slight smile. "No, not really."
Arthur doesn't ask for anything more. Merlin will probably have two drinks and let everything out, which means Arthur is very unlikely to end up getting laid tonight. He tempers his disappointment with the thought that at least he will have Merlin's company.
"I have to head home first to change."
"Oh, right. I should, um . . ."
"You look fine. It's not like you're wearing business attire."
"This is business attire," Merlin responds, affronted.
Arthur laughs because Merlin can't truly think that. His shirt is definitely better suited to a nightclub than the boardroom. Fitted and black with tiny white dots? It's business attire like sheer blouses and mini skirts are.
It takes Merlin a few minutes to finish getting his things together and Arthur waits for him, blatantly checking his watch to hurry Merlin along. When he's finished, they catch the lift down to the parking level together and walk to Arthur's Merc. Arthur glances at Merlin as he gets in, enjoys the little look of pleasure on Merlin's face. Arthur has missed it.
"Anywhere in particular you want to go tonight?" Arthur asks as they pull out of the garage.
"Somewhere with strong drinks."
"Right. I'm sure we can find something." He'll have to sneak some money to the bartender and ask them to pour Merlin's weak. Arthur really doesn't feel like carrying him home tonight.
At Arthur's flat, Merlin gets lumped with a laptop and told to find them a suitable club and somewhere near it to eat. Arthur then changes into his best jeans and a dress shirt for the night, thinking that Merlin had better find somewhere fancier than a pub for them. When he comes out, Merlin smiles.
"This is perfect," he says, turning the screen around and showing Arthur. It looks like exactly the kind of place Arthur hates-and suddenly he's dreading it: the strobe lighting, the loud relentless beats. He'd put up with it for a chance to get shagged, but just for a few drinks?
"Look, do you really want to go out, or were you just up for a drink?"
Merlin gapes for a bit, then admits, "Just feel like getting a bit plastered."
"Right." Arthur closes the laptop and heads to his kitchen. He has at least three bottles of different whiskey. Probably some vodka, too. They can get takeaway and stay in.
He finds a bottle of Glenfidditch and two glasses, and pours two fingers in each. When he turns to get some ice, he finds Merlin standing next to the fridge, watching him.
"You wanted to go out," he says, looking guilty.
"Another night." Arthur shrugs and hands Merlin a glass.
After a bit of negotiating, they decide on pizza. Or really, Arthur decides. Merlin relents. It's on their third drink that Merlin starts playing. First it's just flicking Arthur's head from three feet away.
"Stop that," Arthur says. "You're being a pest."
Merlin, supple with whiskey, uses his magic to tug on Arthur's ear. "But it's fun."
"Fun for you." Arthur tosses a cushion at Merlin to make him stop. "Do something impressive."
Merlin grins and slumps back into the lounge, brightens when he decides on something. He says something like steoras with his hand outstretched and a hundred tiny flecks of light appear and radiate out through the room.
"Beautiful," Arthur says. He turns to watch Merlin, expects to see him looking pleased, but instead he finds him forlorn. "What's wrong?"
Merlin sighs. "I wish it was normal, you know?"
Arthur nods, understands without Merlin having to explain. Sadly, Merlin can never show this display to the world. Most people would never believe it was real, and God forbid if anyone ever realised it was. There's nothing Arthur can say to make it less doleful, so he doesn't say anything.
"I tried to tell Gwaine."
Arthur should have seen this coming. It's blatantly obvious, now he thinks about it.
"It didn't go well I take it."
"He thought I was fooling around, and then when I didn't laugh it off, he asked what was wrong with me."
The little lights are slowly dying out, evaporating when they land on something, leaving no trace of their existence.
"It can take a while to accept."
"I know. I just . . . I thought he was ready. And-I need him to be ready. Keeping this from him, it's eating me up."
"Seriously?" Arthur asks. "You managed to keep us from him for years."
"This is different," Merlin snaps. "This is something I could share, something good."
Arthur sips the last drops from his glass, stands to get himself another. Merlin follows.
"It didn't take you awhile," he says once they enter the kitchen. "You barely blinked an eye at Gaius'."
Pausing, Arthur can't help but stare at Merlin. "Have you forgotten?"
Merlin ducks his head, turns away from Arthur and takes a deep breath. "No."
"It took at least a year," Arthur says, sternly. "Months of me 'experimenting' on you, trying to find any other explanation, anything that made sense. And even then, after all of that . . ." There was the desperate attempt at achieving normality: dating Gwen, weekly dinners with Uther, working all hours, trying for a baby. It was all part of striving to overcome the madness, the insanity that was the curse. And as much as Arthur doesn't want to say it, he feels he has to. "Just because Gwaine hasn't been . . . receptive, doesn't mean he never will be."
Arthur finishes pouring their drinks, refrains from slamming the bottle of liquor down loudly. He hates that he's just defended Gwaine, feels tight and angry with himself, even though he knows it was the right thing to do. Merlin appears beside him and reaches for his glass. He's close, a line of warmth beside Arthur, and it feels too familiar, too welcome.
Arthur picks up his drink and heads straight for the lounge, needs the distance in order to think straight. He falls back onto the sofa, forehead scrunched up while he figures out how he ended up in this situation.
"Sorry," Merlin says, sitting down on the other end. "I'm ruining your night by being in the doldrums."
Arthur snorts. His plan was to go out and get laid. Instead he's staying in with Merlin and giving him relationship advice.
"You're the only person I can talk to about this, though."
Their eyes meet and for a moment, Arthur thinks that maybe Merlin feels this too: the emptiness, the missing something. Perhaps he's having trouble adjusting as well. It's gone almost as soon as Arthur thinks of it. And then suddenly the buzzer is going off, letting them know there's someone seeking entry.
Merlin seems to have forgotten Arthur can see his eyes change colour.
After pizza, their moods are lighter. Merlin pulls up some Monty Python from Arthur's collection and they watch it, laughing more at each other quoting lines than at the actual movie. Merlin's taking care of the drinks with his magic, a bottle on the coffee table refilling their empties. Which is, in case there was ever any doubt, fucking excellent. Arthur tells Merlin this every time he sees it, even after Merlin lets him know that yes, Arthur, I get it. Most awesome thing you've ever seen. You can shut up now. Arthur doesn't, because he can see Merlin loves hearing his magic praised.
And then, then they start talking again, only this time, they're both buzzed from whiskey and Monty Python and it starts out funny, until it isn't anymore.
"I totally cock-blocked you tonight," Merlin says, slurring and grinning. "Oh, man."
Arthur laughs at first, until he realises that's kind of a dick move. "I was supposed to be pulling right now," he laments. "It's been," Arthur pauses, attempts to count back the weeks, "ages," he says instead. "Since Wales."
"I figured," Merlin says. "It's been eight weeks."
"Eight weeks." Arthur draws the words out, tries to remember the last time he went this long without sex. Uni days? Possibly.
"I've probably saved you from hooking up with some trollop. You should thank me."
Arthur turns that over in his inebriated brain. "I don't think so. Eight weeks is a very long time-you should be helping me find a trollop."
"You don't need that," Merlin says. Arthur can feel the magic now, it's stroking along his arm, up his thigh. Arthur still isn't entirely comfortable with how it feels, how it reminds him of that night. "I wouldn't even have to touch you."
Arthur swallows. He's tempted, half hard already just at the thought of letting Merlin have him, but it's improper. Selfish. "What about Gwaine?" he asks.
"We wouldn't be doing anything wrong," Merlin replies, as though they aren't already, and Arthur feels the magic curl around his thigh, dipping down between his legs.
He squirms. "No. It's not right." It was different before, when they had to. Arthur could excuse it then.
"And what if there wasn't a Gwaine?"
Arthur scoffs, a frustrated sound which serves to stop him from saying something stupid. He ignores every urge inside and says, "But there is."
Merlin looks a little put out, but he pulls the pressure back. Arthur is more tense now. Partially aroused and confused. He wants Merlin to touch him, God how he wants it. Just not like that. And not when there's Gwaine. The look Gwen had given him is at the front of his mind, reminding him of how they can hurt the others.
"I should probably go," Merlin says. He stands and looks around himself, tries to locate his messenger bag. It's then that Arthur notices the swaying, feels himself equally off kilter. They're drunk, both of them, and this would no doubt get messy if they tried to sort through it now.
"I'll call you a cab," Arthur says, standing up and heading for the phone.
"Don't worry about it," Merlin responds. "I can . . ." he wiggles his fingers and Arthur isn't quite sure just what he means, but it's something to do with magic and, wow, maybe Merlin is going to conjure a cab.
"Okay."
Arthur walks Merlin to the door and shuts it behind him. The clock tells him it's just after midnight, and Arthur feels every minute, heavy and long, waiting for him in bed.
On Monday morning, Arthur is sitting at his desk, unable to shake the feeling that he just wasted a weekend. Just before nine Merlin wanders into the office proper carrying the hot chocolate he religiously makes in the tearoom before work each day. Their eyes meet and Merlin smiles, and Arthur feels a little better.
Merlin always makes him feel better-that's half of the problem. It's easy to go without sex when you have Merlin's smiles on hand. It's when they're not there that's the problem.
He gets an alert for an email, opens his inbox. There's one from Merlin sitting on top. The subject line says: I broke up with Gwaine.
A small grin sneaks its way onto Arthur's face, until he realises and frowns in concentration. There's nothing else in the email, just that one line.
Arthur hits reply.
"You're not entitled to any leave."
He clicks send thinking it's a perfect response, light and unable to be misconstrued.
Merlin's reply is sudden. "Is that all you have to say?"
Arthur retypes his response a dozen times, settles on: "I'm glad".
It's an hour before Merlin answers. His says: "Me too".
It's probably egotistical, but Arthur takes it as a given that Merlin will want to spend lunch with him. When Merlin brings in the last week's budget analysis, Arthur says, "Pub for lunch?" and Merlin nods. He doesn't look happy about it, but not sad either. Conflicted. That's what it is.
Arthur supposes that's normal for most people. His situation with Gwen was different, of course. They spent years breaking up, though, tiny piece by tiny piece. They spoke last week when she called to tell him-out of courtesy, because they're still officially married-that she was seeing Lance now. It hadn't hurt at all, but that doesn't mean it never did. There were times, back when he first realised he couldn't have everything with Gwen, that he had envied Lance so much it was painful.
At lunch, Arthur collects Merlin on his way out by standing next to his desk until Merlin rolls his eyes and locks his desktop.
"I was planning on sushi today," he gripes as he pulls on his coat and scarf.
"Then I'll take you to sushi."
Merlin actually stops dead. "Really? It's decidedly lacking in grease, you know."
"Really. Now come on."
There's a place not far, one with hot green tea and a selection that even Arthur can't scoff at. Remarkably, they get a booth. Or maybe not so remarkably, given Merlin's recently discovered talents.
"So . . . Gwaine?" Arthur prompts once they've ordered.
Merlin sips at his tea, takes his time before answering. "So here's the thing," he says. "I thought about how you said I should give Gwaine time, and I tried to imagine it, how I'd feel if I did give him all that time and then he reacted badly anyway. And then I realised that Gwaine would never do that to me. No matter how weird I was, or crazy, he would never turn me away."
"So why-"
"Just-just let me finish." Another sip of tea and he swallows. "Understanding that, it made me realise I was sort of subconsciously counting on Gwaine leaving me." Merlin stops, looks out at the street through the windows, avoids Arthur's gaze. "I never really pictured myself with him in five, ten years' time."
Arthur nods, agrees wholeheartedly with that sentiment. The curse made both of them unfit for a perfect fairy-tale relationship with anyone else. How can you commit to another person completely when you are constantly betraying them?
"It felt like that with Gwen, sometimes. Not in the beginning. I used to think I could make it work."
"If Arthur Pendragon can't, what hope did I ever have," Merlin says with a wry grin.
"None, obviously." Arthur smiles, makes it more teasing than mean. On the inside, he's thrumming, waiting for Merlin to say the words, to tell him that he's willing to give this a go.
"We're kind of left with each other, now though. Too dysfunctional for anyone else-"
"Don't say that," Arthur says.
"I don't mind. When I think of that, if feels right. I don't want to be with anyone but you-if that's what you want?"
"Yes," Arthur says, surprising himself with how abruptly it just pops out. He clears his throat, tries to regain some semblance of control. "If it weren't for the curse, I think we would have worked."
Merlin smiles more to himself than to Arthur. "I don't think so." Arthur's set to complain when Merlin continues. "You'd never had a boyfriend before, and all of three people knew we were even together. It's sweet that you think you would have been brave enough back then, but you weren't. Eventually I would have grown sick of it."
Abashed, Arthur doesn't try to defend himself. Merlin's right. While work relationships are frowned on at Pennies, Arthur could have done any number of things to allow them to be together. He hid behind his excuse, used it as a reason not to have to change.
He watches Merlin sipping his tea and wonders if he's scared of that-of being with the same Arthur again. He wonders if Merlin thinks it's worth it. And Arthur wants to show him, wants Merlin to believe that he'll be different now.
"This time," Arthur says, swallowing dryly while his heart hammers in his chest, "I will fire you."
There's a hint of a grin on Merlin's face, then he shakes his head and quietly laughs. "How is that one of the most romantic things you've ever said to me?"
Arthur grimaces as Merlin begins to show George all of his systems. He's tried having George as his assistant before, and it was awful. A ridiculous level of deference meant George was never willing to tell Arthur when he was doing the wrong thing. But Merlin assured Arthur he was going to educate George on the benefits of being able to tell his boss when he's being an arse. Arthur is still having trouble believing he agreed to that.
When Merlin comes in to Arthur's office, he's laughing.
"I should hire somebody else," Arthur says, a pained look on his face.
"Because that has been so successful before. George will be fine. Give him a few months and he'll be ready to contradict you on a daily basis."
"Only when necessary."
"Of course."
Merlin still looks tired. It pulls at Arthur in an unpleasant way to see him like that, makes him worry that he's forgotten to attend to Merlin, and when he remembers they don't have to do that anymore, he wonders if maybe the curse hasn't entirely left. Merlin assures him it's just standard lack of sleep. He's on the sofa at Gwaine's while he looks for somewhere else to live because he refuses to stay with Arthur like a normal person. It's only been a few days since they kind of agreed to be together again; apparently that's too soon.
"You should come over after work," Arthur says.
"It wouldn't be right. Not until I move out."
"I still have the flat." Arthur hasn't offered it up until now, didn't want to bring up the memories of that place and what they were like back then. "The lease isn't up for renewal for a couple of months. It's yours if you want it."
He can almost see the thoughts flit through Merlin's mind. The instant repulsion followed by the rational argument that it's just a place: somewhere to sleep, somewhere to keep his things. It's the same thought process Arthur had had.
"Okay," Merlin says finally. "Just until the lease runs out."
Arthur breathes and relaxes. It's something. He feels like they might finally be getting closer.
Arthur doesn't recognise the flat. There's stuff . . . everywhere. When did Merlin get so much stuff? There are framed prints on the walls, objets scattered around on every available surface, except for the table which is covered in textbooks for his degree (which he's finally enrolled in). There's-colour all around, and a smell, nothing nasty, just something other than barely worn carpets.
"You're here," Merlin says, smiling, no, beaming as he comes and takes Arthur's coat and kisses him on the lips. Something clatters in the kitchen. "Shit."
Arthur follows Merlin, stops as soon as he sees what's going on. A kitchen is cleaning itself, apparently. Except for the plate that's now lying broken on the floor.
"Still learning?" Arthur asks.
"At least it's only one plate this time."
They kiss again and Arthur lets his hands roam now, slips them up under Merlin's jumper and touches his skin.
"So, have you thought about it?" Merlin asks.
"Hmm mm."
"And?"
"Okay," he says. "But if I say stop-"
"I'll stop. Immediately."
Arthur's been hesitant for Merlin to use his magic in bed. Despite how good it can feel, Arthur hates the lack of control, the knowledge that Merlin can just whisper a word and have Arthur undressed or hoisted up by nothing, or, and this one truly scares him, unable to say no. Arthur likes sex between them now, how it's natural, organic, something they can have if they feel like it. And he knows that Merlin wants more, wants to recreate what he used to feel, but Arthur has never felt able to give in.
"It's going to feel amazing."
"Uh huh," Arthur responds, dubious. He's sure Merlin can make it feel good, but Arthur likes plain, ordinary sex now. The type where Merlin lays him down and fucks him nice and deep and slow, and touches him with his hands, runs them all over Arthur like he can't get enough. Like he wants to be where he is.
Merlin leads Arthur to the bedroom, walking backwards and pulling Arthur along, playful and excited. He likes to show off his magic, and Arthur's pretty much the only person who gets to see, so he indulges him. It's hard to pretend to be eager when he's not, though, so he just smiles, which is all the encouragement Merlin needs, really.
In the bedroom, Merlin falters.
"Did you-did you want to take off your own clothes?"
It's something Arthur has insisted on, along with all the other magic-less aspects of sex. But today he's trying to relax those boundaries.
"You can do it."
Merlin's eyes flash and Arthur's clothes literally vanish.
"Where are they?" Arthur asks, looking around.
"I'm not entirely sure, to be honest. Probably in the laundry basket. At least, that's where mine end up." Merlin shrugs and smiles, completely unworried, and Arthur thinks that this really isn't helping Arthur's faith in Merlin and his magic. Merlin must see the doubt creeping in. "They're fine," he says. "Now, I think you should get on the bed."
Arthur laughs a little, lets out some of his uncertainty, then makes his way to the bed and sits on the edge. Merlin drags his eyes over Arthur's naked form until he meets his eyes.
"I'm not going to make you need it, but everything else will be the same. Your body will respond to me, and touching me will make you want more, and when I come inside you, it will feel better than anything ever has before."
Arthur swallows. "Better than anything?"
"Yes."
Arthur wonders if Merlin even realises what he's saying. If what they had before felt better than anything, why would he ever want anything else? Suddenly Arthur is feeling a little self-conscious, and maybe even a little defensive about his love of conventional sex.
Merlin strips his own clothes with another flash and then he's approaching Arthur, mumbling something in the old language, and then Arthur can feel it, deep inside: the anticipation. He's waiting for Merlin to get closer. Waiting and waiting.
"How do you feel?" Merlin asks.
"Like you're taking forever."
Merlin laughs and then finally he's close enough that they can touch. He puts a hand on Arthur's chest, says, "Move back," and Arthur does. Once he's in the centre, Arthur lies down and Merlin settles next to him.
All Arthur can do is stare at Merlin's lips. He wants them, so he leans in and licks, moans a little with how good it feels to get close.
"Just tell me if you want to stop, okay, Arthur?"
Arthur feels like laughing, because stopping is just madness, but he knows that he used to think it was important that Merlin give him the choice, so he says "yes" and keeps licking and kissing and touching. Merlin climbs on top of Arthur and the closeness makes Arthur arch up, makes him crave contact with Merlin, makes his insides flare with how much he wants Merlin there.
It's just fingers at first, and despite Merlin sucking on Arthur's dick, it's just not enough. Arthur grinds down on Merlin's hand.
"Steady," Merlin says after pulling off Arthur's dick. "You'll just end up hurting yourself."
It makes sense, so Arthur eases and stills himself, lets Merlin work him open at a snail's pace. All the while, Arthur's insides clench and unclench with the need to be filled.
And then Merlin is rubbing his cock alongside Arthur's, a quick tease before he finds Arthur's hole and starts to slowly push in.
"Oh God," Arthur groans. It's just right. Perfect. The way he feels stretched and glutted, it's exactly how he needed to feel. Merlin starts fucking, slowly at first, and then deeper, harder. Arthur braces himself against the mattress and yells, things like "fuck" and "more" and "Christ" just pouring out of his mouth.
"You should come first," Merlin says, panting with his efforts. "It feels even better if you're relaxed."
Arthur can't imagine anything feeling better, but he does as Merlin said, fists himself and starts tugging. It is better. Immediately. And then Arthur's floating on that feeling, enjoying how good it is to be fucked while getting himself off. His other hand holds on tight to Merlin's thigh and that makes it perfect.
Eventually Arthur comes, gripping Merlin so tight he makes him yell. His orgasm peaks and he feels his whole body sigh. It's just a pause though. Above him, Merlin is still there, giving Arthur a moment before he keeps going. Arthur can still feel the pull, can still feel how Merlin is stuffed inside him.
"You okay?" Merlin asks.
Arthur can't speak, so he nods. His hands find Merlin's back and press him down closer, and Merlin takes the hint and starts to thrust. Arthur hitches his knees up, makes sure Merlin can get in as deep as possible, and then they're fucking properly again.
It's almost as though Arthur can feel Merlin getting closer. There's something, some kind of connection, and every push of Merlin's cock has him climbing towards a different high. He swears he can feel Merlin's pulse, can breathe Merlin's breaths, and then, then-
When Merlin comes, Arthur can feel that too, but he also feels his body being fulfilled-his every need, his every desire quenched completely. An unending feeling of adoration and contentment. It starts deep in his body and fans out, spreads the overwhelming sense of bliss through his body. He clings to Merlin, holds him through the aftermath of Merlin's own orgasm, shares every last shudder.
Merlin lifts his head shortly after, and asks, voice timid, "How was it?"
Arthur opens his eyes. "Perfect."
That seems to relieve Merlin. He smiles and kisses Arthur again.
"It's hard to imagine," Arthur adds between pants, "how it was ever bad. That felt . . . wonderful. More than wonderful. I felt like we were-"
"Connected," Merlin finishes. "We were. That's what it does." He rolls over onto his back and stares up at the ceiling. "It didn't always feel good."
Arthur thinks back over all the years, and tries to imagine what Merlin would have felt when they had sex. Mostly obligation, probably. Other times: fear, regret, anger. None of it would have been particularly pleasant. Not until things started to change, when Merlin had come back to Pennies. Then there was-
Lust. There was a lot of that. Longing. Jealousy. And then . . . something more. Really it was just how Arthur always felt about Merlin, but it had definitely been getting stronger. Arthur feels a touch embarrassed, thinks Merlin should have let him know he was eavesdropping on Arthur's feelings. But then Arthur remembers the last few times in Wales, when Merlin was gagging for it and all Arthur wanted was to feed him and then get away.
"You knew," he says, thinking of Merlin's face when Arthur left him with Gaius. But it's more than that. Merlin knew everything, all along.
"What's important is how it feels now," Merlin says as he leans in, kisses Arthur softly. Arthur still has the remnants of magic running through him, only takes a moment to figure out what Merlin is saying.
"As long as you know I do too," Arthur replies. He's surprisingly nervous, given everything they've shared over the years.
Merlin smiles, secret and small. "I think you could show me."
xarenna made all the art for this story and truly did such an amazing job. Her art masterpost is here. Please head over there and let her know you love it as much as I do.
Something a little self-indulgenty... I made a mixtape for this fic. You can find that post here.