Nothing Says Christmas Like a Bunch of Stationary, a Light Bulb and Thai Takeaway
fandom: Merlin
rating: G
word count: ~2.8k
category: slash, pairing(s): Arthur/Merlin
characters: Arthur Pendragon, Merlin
genre: modern AU, fluff, domestic, established relationship, holiday fic
warnings: none
disclaimer: Don't own anything, don't make money from this, you know the drill.
summary: It's not Christmas until it feels like Christmas.
also on AO3
a/n: Man, I wrote this in such a delirious state that Idek what I wrote xD But yeah, there you go a holiday fic. Now I'll go back to my gross sobbing over the finale (alhdfjladgdjafskhgkjdhas).
Written for fy-merlinxarthur's Xmas fest on Tumblr.
Apologies for any mistakes that are still in there, I cannot see through my tears to check for them.
Right, so, since I'm in an exceptionally charitable mood, everyone who potentially wants a holiday/winter-themed fic, you can ask for one in the comments and I will write it for you. You can leave as detailed of a prompt as you like, for any of my ships in any of my fandoms (refer to my list of tags for the fandoms and ships, or, if you dare, you can browse my tumblr, fair warning, there are Merlin spoilers there).
Feedback is always appreciated ^^
Happy holidays!
Nothing Says Christmas Like a Bunch of Stationary, a Light Bulb and Thai Takeaway
So, Christmas has snuck up on them this year.
Arthur's been working like a madman for the last few weeks, putting the finishing touches on the bridge he's designing, muttering complex equations under his breath while walking around like a lost puppy, then running to the nearest of the six calculators stashed in their apartment and typing at it furiously, checking and rechecking every detail of the bridge plans, thinking and rethinking every solution. Merlin thinks it's a bit insane and obsessive of Arthur to be reviewing basically everything he's been doing for months, but when he tries to tell Arthur that he needs to calm down, Arthur just makes this sort of hissing noise and goes back to pouring over countless sketches and sheets of paper with tiny, squiggly numbers on them.
But then, Merlin's probably not in any position to be lecturing Arthur, seeing how he spent most of December in a caffeine induced delirium, trading sleep and food and basic human needs for few more precious hours of studying for midterms. Looking back now, Merlin sees the irony of a psychology student preparing an exam in the psychology of learning trying to cram three books into his brain in about a week, but at the time it seemed like a perfectly reasonable course of action to postpone studying till the last possible moment so as to have more time with friends; he was also planning on quality time with Arthur, but as it turned out, Arthur was otherwise occupied. That was approximately when Merlin began to hate that bloody bridge.
Now, he's beginning to despise it. His exams are over and university is out for the holidays; Merlin is now free as a bird, free to do whatever he pleases, like reading or going out or shagging his boyfriend. But said boyfriend is not following Merlin's schedule, so Merlin spent the first few days of his holidays catching up on much-needed sleep.
So, they've been busy. So, they haven't noticed Christmas creeping up. Surely it's happened before. There's still time to put up decorations and call everyone and send cards and make dinner and- Yeah, there's no time.
Merlin sighs into the empty mug in his hand, feels his breath return to him smelling of mint tea. He suddenly feels so very tired and deflated, like that one breath just sucked everything out of his body and now he's completely empty. He's not even sure why it matters that they're apparently missing Christmas this year, neither him not Arthur are really believers, in fact Arthur insists on keeping the holiday as secular as possible without actually skipping it (though if that is for religious reasons or to spite his father, Merlin can't decide), and neither the date nor the holiday hold any special meaning for either of them, they wouldn't be breaking any important traditions by not celebrating, but the very fact that they both somehow forgot Christmas, for however legitimate reasons, reminds Merlin of just how little time they've been spending together as of late.
Arthur conveniently chooses that moment for one of his calculator quests, dashes past Merlin and reaches over to the counter, muttering something under his breath. Merlin watches him without really seeing him, still too lost in his own thoughts.
“Morning,” Arthur greets him, sounding distracted and not looking up, to which Merlin replies with equal enthusiasm, already used to this type of exchange. He turns away from Arthur and puts his mug in the sink, not expecting Arthur to show any other signs of acknowledging him, and sure enough, when he turns back to the kitchen, it's empty. For the first since he moved in, Merlin notices how large their apartment is, how hostile and unwelcoming it looks when there isn't a pile of dirty take-out containers in the living room, or a hoodie tossed over the armchair; they've been sticking to their own respective space for so long that the rest of their place looks almost like no one lives there. The feeling of nostalgia for mornings when they used to wake up together, to kiss each other every time they were in the same room washes over Merlin.
He looks out the window, trying to put it out of his mind; it's snowing outside, big white snowflakes are being tossed around by wind and somewhere in the distance there are colourful lights taped to someone's window. Merlin watches them fade slowly, then come back on once, twice, three times. He pushes himself away from the counter with a new level of determination - they may not have Christmas, but he'll be damned if he lets their occasionally hectic professional lives stand in the way of their relationship.
He walks over to Arthur's study and lets himself in, not bothering to knock. The room is mess, pens and pencils littering the floor and large sheets of paper with the bridge in various stages of completion drawn on them. Merlin walks over them, not caring - he knows that Arthur will have already sent the important things to the city council.
Arthur himself is at the desk, a pen in one hand, a ruler in the other, the pen's cap held between his lips. He looks tired, manic, but the way he's focused on the equation in front of him, the look on his face, it does something to Merlin.
“It's Christmas Eve,” Merlin says, when he's already close enough to lean on Arthur's desk.
Arthur drops the cap from his mouth and looks up, frowning. “Merlin! I didn't notice you there, sorry, did you need anything? Because I really need to get this-“
“It's Christmas Eve tonight,” Merlin repeats calmly. The things Arthur's face does in response to his statement make him smile. He remembers how, only minutes ago, he was wondering where all their magic had gone, but now, here, in this moment, with Arthur looking at him like he's sprouted another head and then looking out the window and then checking his calendar and him unable to look away, he sees that whatever chemistry, whatever spell is between them still very much exists, they just need to pay more attention.
“It's Christmas?” Arthur asks finally, then looks out the window again. When he turns back around, he looks like a five-year-old who's only just found out about the magic of airplanes. “It's Christmas.” Merlin nods, trying to suppress a giggle. There's an ink stain on Arthur's bottom lip that catches his eye as Arthur opens his mouth to shout, “It's Christmas! ...Wait, already?”
Merlin laughs. “Yeah... Don't worry, I didn't realize it until this morning either.” Arthur caps his pen and puts it away. Merlin smiles. “Or alternatively, worry, because I don't have a gift for you and we haven't decorated and our families won't appreciate the lack of cards this year. Also, there's no food,” he adds. And those are all valid points, and maybe they should worry a little bit, but with Arthur reaching over the desk to squeeze his hand and with Arthur's work forgotten under Merlin's feet, Merlin finds it a bit difficult to care. Arthur seems to be of much the same mind seeing how he just sort of keeps staring at Merlin's face like he's never truly seen it before for what seems like an eternity.
“We forgot about Christmas,” Arthur says at length, after everything around them has already faded into insignificance and Merlin has become sufficiently reassured that they are more important than work and college and Christmas put together. Arthur's hand, the one not busy playing with Merlin's fingers, has migrated to the side of Merlin's face and acts as a gentle anchor keeping Merlin in this moment, in their microcosmos of rediscovery.
“We've been busy,” Merlin replies, leaning into Arthur's hand.
Arthur looks at him for a long moment, then leans in slowly and kisses him. Merlin smiles into the kiss. He breathes into Arthur's mouth and it feels like all the anxiety of the last few weeks, all the rush and the busyness, all the numbness from that morning, it all leaves his body with that breath. He laughs.
“What?” Arthur asks, his eyes crinkling in the corners as he smiles.
Merlin shrugs. “Nothing really, it's just... we are so unprepared for Christmas this year.”
“Well,” Arthur says carefully, looking around like he's trying to take in their surroundings and assess them for future changes, “do you want to celebrate?”
Merlin is almost sure that's one of the trick questions people ask so they'd be able to judge others from their answers, but he knows Arthur far too well to think him capable of such a game. He looks out of the window. The snow's stopped. He can't see any Christmas lights that are on.
“Yeah. Yeah, I'd like to,” he replies.
“Then we will!” Arthur agrees. “Where are we putting the tree?”
“We don't have a tree, Arthur,” Merlin reminds him exasperatedly. “Like I said, we're not really what you would call prepared.”
“Okay, we can just put up decorations,” Arthur suggests.
Merlin figures that would work, so they go to work looking for their Christmas box. It's not until half an hour later that something occurs to Merlin.
“Hey, Arthur,” he calls from the kitchen where he's checking the cupboards for clues for what has to be the third time. Arthur's response is a cough that Merlin is pretty sure is caused by the dust accumulated on top of their wardrobes where Arthur's also on the quest of finding Christmas ornaments. “I think... we might have left that box at mine when I moved in.” There's an inarticulate, but not happy-sounding noise that comes from Arthur before Merlin hears the thudding of Arthur's feet coming closer.
“So... we don't have a tree or ornaments,” he states, hands on his hips and a fleck of dirt on his nose. Merlin is not sure if he wants to laugh or be annoyed. He goes with laughing, Christmas spirit and all. Not that he really feels like it's Christmas tomorrow, not when he's hungry and tired and their apartment looks like a bomb went off in it, but there isn't a single shiny tinsel anywhere in sight.
“We can buy a tree?” Merlin ventures, even though he doesn't feel like dragging a tree through snow-clogged streets.
“Don't be stupid, Merlin, it's Christmas Eve, it's too late to buy a decent tree.”
Merlin, in a display of immense maturity, sticks his tongue out at Arthur. “I suppose you have a better suggestion then?”
“Nah, no, I've got nothing either,” Arthur admits. Merlin is about to suggest they quit, to hell with Christmas, they can just snuggle up and watch a movie, when Arthur cocks his head to the side and a grin spread over his face. “Actually... How about you go and get us some food, and something to drink and... I'll see what I can do about the tree?”
~*~
Merlin walks into their apartment already bracing himself for... well, something horrible. He knew Arthur had some sort of a plan as soon as he saw the look on his face about an hour earlier, when Arthur ushered him out to the store as quickly as he could. But he played along, partially because, well, he liked that look on Arthur's face, and partially because they did really need food.
He ended up getting Thai takeaway. It's not really the most common Christmas food, but there was no crowd at the restaurant, and Merlin figured since they were winging it this year anyway, it didn't really matter.
Surprisingly, perhaps, the apartment is not in ruins. In fact, it looks about as clean as their apartment can be. But there is also no tree in sight. Merlin is neither surprised nor disappointed, especially when he picks up on the smell of chocolate coming from somewhere. He loses his jacket and boots, grabs the food and follows his nose.
Into Arthur's study, as it turns out. Arthur is arranging pillows and blankets on the floor and he's moved the coffee-table from the living room near the impromptu beds; two mugs of steaming hot chocolate are on it, and so is a bowl of what appears to be large glittery confetti.
Merlin can't see much other than that, since the light is scarce. Merlin looks for its source and finds it to be a single light bulb, somehow painted in red, sitting on top of what appears to be an unstable pile of paper and pens. It's shaped to resemble a pine, Merlin notices, and there's glitter thrown all over it, too. It looks like a contemporary art project, Merlin decides once he's had enough time to properly take it in and while it's not a Christmas tree, it gives Merlin that giddy feeling he used to get around Christmas when he was a child. The light bulb is flickering and colouring the whole room in warm shades of orange and red, making it look like it's being lit and warmed by a real fire.
Merlin closes the door behind him. He almost wishes he could lock it, protect it from the outside and keep it just to himself.
“Oh, hey,” Arthur greets him when he notices him.
“Hey,” Merlin replies, putting the food down on the table so he can grab Arthur by the waist and pull him closer. “Is that our tree?”
“You like it?” Arthur asks with a smirk that Merlin proceeds to wipe off his face with a kiss.
“It'll do,” Merlin replies with a grin. Arthur rolls his eyes, but before he can answer, Merlin kisses him again, just because, because Arthur's is not working, and Merlin has no exams tomorrow, and this night is for them to spend together, and their tree is not a tree, and their decorations were probably stolen from a drag queen, and they'll eat Thai food and drink hot chocolate and probably be sick because of it later, but right now, it's perfect.
“Thai?” Arthur asks incredulously, once Merlin releases him and lets him sniff through the boxes.
“It was open, it was empty, I couldn't be bothered to stand in line,” Merlin simply says with a shrug. He grabs a random container of food and settles onto the pillows. It's actually quite comfortable, even more so when Arthur joins him and he starts using Arthur's shoulder as a pillow.
“Why are we camping in your study?” he asks once he's finished eating.
“It was easier to stack the tree here when all the paper was already on the floor.”
“Oh, I see,” Merlin replies, snuggling closer. Arthur takes the empty food container from his hands and throws it at the table where their two mugs lie, long empty. Merlin watches the container fly over the table. “You sure that tree's gonna stand?” he teases.
Arthur scoffs as he pulls a blanket over them. “Of course it'll stand, I'm an architect, I know how to build things to be stable.”
“There's something to support it under there, right?”
“Of course there is, goodness, Merlin,” Arthur laughs.
“What?”
“It doesn't matter!” Arthur replies a little too quickly.
So naturally, Merlin sits up and crawls closer to the tree. “Are those my textbooks?”
“No, that's the pot,” Arthur replies, deadpan.
“And is that your trash can?” Merlin asks, laughing as he squints through paper and pens to see the black mesh of Arthur's recycle bin.
“Shhh, it's the trunk,” Arthur replies, pulling Merlin away from the tree and manhandling him back under the covers.
“And where did you get the glitter?”
“From the little girl on the floor below us. You can have it as your gift, it's not like I haven anything else to offer you.” Arthur's voice is gradually getting quieter, which makes Merlin sleepy, so he settles into their make-shift bed and cuddles up to Arthur's side, making himself comfortable and letting his eyelids droop a little.
“That's all right,” he replies into Arthur's shoulder, “I'll just take this romantic dinner and your masterpiece as my present.” Arthur swats him lightly on the shoulder. Merlin laughs and pulls the blankets around them tighter.
He lets the blinking of the red light lull him to sleep, thinking how this is the first time he's actually felt like the holiday season has indeed started. So maybe their tree is basically a recycle! campaign, and maybe their Christmas feast was Thai takeaway, and maybe this isn't the best Christmas he's ever had. But that all doesn't matter. What matters is that Merlin is full, he's warm, he's comfortable, he's with Arthur and he's happy. And that's what Christmas is all about.
~*~
Merlin's been living with Arthur for too long if the sudden clattering and clanking is a normal occurrence. He kicks Arthur in the shin and mumbles, “Remind to avoid that bridge at all cost.”
Arthur's “Shut up and sleep, Merlin” is muffled by the pillow.
A pencil rolls past Merlin's face. Merlin grins into the darkness. It's not Christmas until they've made some kind of a ridiculous mess.
rating: G
word count: ~2.8k
category: slash, pairing(s): Arthur/Merlin
characters: Arthur Pendragon, Merlin
genre: modern AU, fluff, domestic, established relationship, holiday fic
warnings: none
disclaimer: Don't own anything, don't make money from this, you know the drill.
summary: It's not Christmas until it feels like Christmas.
also on AO3
a/n: Man, I wrote this in such a delirious state that Idek what I wrote xD But yeah, there you go a holiday fic. Now I'll go back to my gross sobbing over the finale (alhdfjladgdjafskhgkjdhas).
Written for fy-merlinxarthur's Xmas fest on Tumblr.
Apologies for any mistakes that are still in there, I cannot see through my tears to check for them.
Right, so, since I'm in an exceptionally charitable mood, everyone who potentially wants a holiday/winter-themed fic, you can ask for one in the comments and I will write it for you. You can leave as detailed of a prompt as you like, for any of my ships in any of my fandoms (refer to my list of tags for the fandoms and ships, or, if you dare, you can browse my tumblr, fair warning, there are Merlin spoilers there).
Feedback is always appreciated ^^
Happy holidays!
Nothing Says Christmas Like a Bunch of Stationary, a Light Bulb and Thai Takeaway
So, Christmas has snuck up on them this year.
Arthur's been working like a madman for the last few weeks, putting the finishing touches on the bridge he's designing, muttering complex equations under his breath while walking around like a lost puppy, then running to the nearest of the six calculators stashed in their apartment and typing at it furiously, checking and rechecking every detail of the bridge plans, thinking and rethinking every solution. Merlin thinks it's a bit insane and obsessive of Arthur to be reviewing basically everything he's been doing for months, but when he tries to tell Arthur that he needs to calm down, Arthur just makes this sort of hissing noise and goes back to pouring over countless sketches and sheets of paper with tiny, squiggly numbers on them.
But then, Merlin's probably not in any position to be lecturing Arthur, seeing how he spent most of December in a caffeine induced delirium, trading sleep and food and basic human needs for few more precious hours of studying for midterms. Looking back now, Merlin sees the irony of a psychology student preparing an exam in the psychology of learning trying to cram three books into his brain in about a week, but at the time it seemed like a perfectly reasonable course of action to postpone studying till the last possible moment so as to have more time with friends; he was also planning on quality time with Arthur, but as it turned out, Arthur was otherwise occupied. That was approximately when Merlin began to hate that bloody bridge.
Now, he's beginning to despise it. His exams are over and university is out for the holidays; Merlin is now free as a bird, free to do whatever he pleases, like reading or going out or shagging his boyfriend. But said boyfriend is not following Merlin's schedule, so Merlin spent the first few days of his holidays catching up on much-needed sleep.
So, they've been busy. So, they haven't noticed Christmas creeping up. Surely it's happened before. There's still time to put up decorations and call everyone and send cards and make dinner and- Yeah, there's no time.
Merlin sighs into the empty mug in his hand, feels his breath return to him smelling of mint tea. He suddenly feels so very tired and deflated, like that one breath just sucked everything out of his body and now he's completely empty. He's not even sure why it matters that they're apparently missing Christmas this year, neither him not Arthur are really believers, in fact Arthur insists on keeping the holiday as secular as possible without actually skipping it (though if that is for religious reasons or to spite his father, Merlin can't decide), and neither the date nor the holiday hold any special meaning for either of them, they wouldn't be breaking any important traditions by not celebrating, but the very fact that they both somehow forgot Christmas, for however legitimate reasons, reminds Merlin of just how little time they've been spending together as of late.
Arthur conveniently chooses that moment for one of his calculator quests, dashes past Merlin and reaches over to the counter, muttering something under his breath. Merlin watches him without really seeing him, still too lost in his own thoughts.
“Morning,” Arthur greets him, sounding distracted and not looking up, to which Merlin replies with equal enthusiasm, already used to this type of exchange. He turns away from Arthur and puts his mug in the sink, not expecting Arthur to show any other signs of acknowledging him, and sure enough, when he turns back to the kitchen, it's empty. For the first since he moved in, Merlin notices how large their apartment is, how hostile and unwelcoming it looks when there isn't a pile of dirty take-out containers in the living room, or a hoodie tossed over the armchair; they've been sticking to their own respective space for so long that the rest of their place looks almost like no one lives there. The feeling of nostalgia for mornings when they used to wake up together, to kiss each other every time they were in the same room washes over Merlin.
He looks out the window, trying to put it out of his mind; it's snowing outside, big white snowflakes are being tossed around by wind and somewhere in the distance there are colourful lights taped to someone's window. Merlin watches them fade slowly, then come back on once, twice, three times. He pushes himself away from the counter with a new level of determination - they may not have Christmas, but he'll be damned if he lets their occasionally hectic professional lives stand in the way of their relationship.
He walks over to Arthur's study and lets himself in, not bothering to knock. The room is mess, pens and pencils littering the floor and large sheets of paper with the bridge in various stages of completion drawn on them. Merlin walks over them, not caring - he knows that Arthur will have already sent the important things to the city council.
Arthur himself is at the desk, a pen in one hand, a ruler in the other, the pen's cap held between his lips. He looks tired, manic, but the way he's focused on the equation in front of him, the look on his face, it does something to Merlin.
“It's Christmas Eve,” Merlin says, when he's already close enough to lean on Arthur's desk.
Arthur drops the cap from his mouth and looks up, frowning. “Merlin! I didn't notice you there, sorry, did you need anything? Because I really need to get this-“
“It's Christmas Eve tonight,” Merlin repeats calmly. The things Arthur's face does in response to his statement make him smile. He remembers how, only minutes ago, he was wondering where all their magic had gone, but now, here, in this moment, with Arthur looking at him like he's sprouted another head and then looking out the window and then checking his calendar and him unable to look away, he sees that whatever chemistry, whatever spell is between them still very much exists, they just need to pay more attention.
“It's Christmas?” Arthur asks finally, then looks out the window again. When he turns back around, he looks like a five-year-old who's only just found out about the magic of airplanes. “It's Christmas.” Merlin nods, trying to suppress a giggle. There's an ink stain on Arthur's bottom lip that catches his eye as Arthur opens his mouth to shout, “It's Christmas! ...Wait, already?”
Merlin laughs. “Yeah... Don't worry, I didn't realize it until this morning either.” Arthur caps his pen and puts it away. Merlin smiles. “Or alternatively, worry, because I don't have a gift for you and we haven't decorated and our families won't appreciate the lack of cards this year. Also, there's no food,” he adds. And those are all valid points, and maybe they should worry a little bit, but with Arthur reaching over the desk to squeeze his hand and with Arthur's work forgotten under Merlin's feet, Merlin finds it a bit difficult to care. Arthur seems to be of much the same mind seeing how he just sort of keeps staring at Merlin's face like he's never truly seen it before for what seems like an eternity.
“We forgot about Christmas,” Arthur says at length, after everything around them has already faded into insignificance and Merlin has become sufficiently reassured that they are more important than work and college and Christmas put together. Arthur's hand, the one not busy playing with Merlin's fingers, has migrated to the side of Merlin's face and acts as a gentle anchor keeping Merlin in this moment, in their microcosmos of rediscovery.
“We've been busy,” Merlin replies, leaning into Arthur's hand.
Arthur looks at him for a long moment, then leans in slowly and kisses him. Merlin smiles into the kiss. He breathes into Arthur's mouth and it feels like all the anxiety of the last few weeks, all the rush and the busyness, all the numbness from that morning, it all leaves his body with that breath. He laughs.
“What?” Arthur asks, his eyes crinkling in the corners as he smiles.
Merlin shrugs. “Nothing really, it's just... we are so unprepared for Christmas this year.”
“Well,” Arthur says carefully, looking around like he's trying to take in their surroundings and assess them for future changes, “do you want to celebrate?”
Merlin is almost sure that's one of the trick questions people ask so they'd be able to judge others from their answers, but he knows Arthur far too well to think him capable of such a game. He looks out of the window. The snow's stopped. He can't see any Christmas lights that are on.
“Yeah. Yeah, I'd like to,” he replies.
“Then we will!” Arthur agrees. “Where are we putting the tree?”
“We don't have a tree, Arthur,” Merlin reminds him exasperatedly. “Like I said, we're not really what you would call prepared.”
“Okay, we can just put up decorations,” Arthur suggests.
Merlin figures that would work, so they go to work looking for their Christmas box. It's not until half an hour later that something occurs to Merlin.
“Hey, Arthur,” he calls from the kitchen where he's checking the cupboards for clues for what has to be the third time. Arthur's response is a cough that Merlin is pretty sure is caused by the dust accumulated on top of their wardrobes where Arthur's also on the quest of finding Christmas ornaments. “I think... we might have left that box at mine when I moved in.” There's an inarticulate, but not happy-sounding noise that comes from Arthur before Merlin hears the thudding of Arthur's feet coming closer.
“So... we don't have a tree or ornaments,” he states, hands on his hips and a fleck of dirt on his nose. Merlin is not sure if he wants to laugh or be annoyed. He goes with laughing, Christmas spirit and all. Not that he really feels like it's Christmas tomorrow, not when he's hungry and tired and their apartment looks like a bomb went off in it, but there isn't a single shiny tinsel anywhere in sight.
“We can buy a tree?” Merlin ventures, even though he doesn't feel like dragging a tree through snow-clogged streets.
“Don't be stupid, Merlin, it's Christmas Eve, it's too late to buy a decent tree.”
Merlin, in a display of immense maturity, sticks his tongue out at Arthur. “I suppose you have a better suggestion then?”
“Nah, no, I've got nothing either,” Arthur admits. Merlin is about to suggest they quit, to hell with Christmas, they can just snuggle up and watch a movie, when Arthur cocks his head to the side and a grin spread over his face. “Actually... How about you go and get us some food, and something to drink and... I'll see what I can do about the tree?”
~*~
Merlin walks into their apartment already bracing himself for... well, something horrible. He knew Arthur had some sort of a plan as soon as he saw the look on his face about an hour earlier, when Arthur ushered him out to the store as quickly as he could. But he played along, partially because, well, he liked that look on Arthur's face, and partially because they did really need food.
He ended up getting Thai takeaway. It's not really the most common Christmas food, but there was no crowd at the restaurant, and Merlin figured since they were winging it this year anyway, it didn't really matter.
Surprisingly, perhaps, the apartment is not in ruins. In fact, it looks about as clean as their apartment can be. But there is also no tree in sight. Merlin is neither surprised nor disappointed, especially when he picks up on the smell of chocolate coming from somewhere. He loses his jacket and boots, grabs the food and follows his nose.
Into Arthur's study, as it turns out. Arthur is arranging pillows and blankets on the floor and he's moved the coffee-table from the living room near the impromptu beds; two mugs of steaming hot chocolate are on it, and so is a bowl of what appears to be large glittery confetti.
Merlin can't see much other than that, since the light is scarce. Merlin looks for its source and finds it to be a single light bulb, somehow painted in red, sitting on top of what appears to be an unstable pile of paper and pens. It's shaped to resemble a pine, Merlin notices, and there's glitter thrown all over it, too. It looks like a contemporary art project, Merlin decides once he's had enough time to properly take it in and while it's not a Christmas tree, it gives Merlin that giddy feeling he used to get around Christmas when he was a child. The light bulb is flickering and colouring the whole room in warm shades of orange and red, making it look like it's being lit and warmed by a real fire.
Merlin closes the door behind him. He almost wishes he could lock it, protect it from the outside and keep it just to himself.
“Oh, hey,” Arthur greets him when he notices him.
“Hey,” Merlin replies, putting the food down on the table so he can grab Arthur by the waist and pull him closer. “Is that our tree?”
“You like it?” Arthur asks with a smirk that Merlin proceeds to wipe off his face with a kiss.
“It'll do,” Merlin replies with a grin. Arthur rolls his eyes, but before he can answer, Merlin kisses him again, just because, because Arthur's is not working, and Merlin has no exams tomorrow, and this night is for them to spend together, and their tree is not a tree, and their decorations were probably stolen from a drag queen, and they'll eat Thai food and drink hot chocolate and probably be sick because of it later, but right now, it's perfect.
“Thai?” Arthur asks incredulously, once Merlin releases him and lets him sniff through the boxes.
“It was open, it was empty, I couldn't be bothered to stand in line,” Merlin simply says with a shrug. He grabs a random container of food and settles onto the pillows. It's actually quite comfortable, even more so when Arthur joins him and he starts using Arthur's shoulder as a pillow.
“Why are we camping in your study?” he asks once he's finished eating.
“It was easier to stack the tree here when all the paper was already on the floor.”
“Oh, I see,” Merlin replies, snuggling closer. Arthur takes the empty food container from his hands and throws it at the table where their two mugs lie, long empty. Merlin watches the container fly over the table. “You sure that tree's gonna stand?” he teases.
Arthur scoffs as he pulls a blanket over them. “Of course it'll stand, I'm an architect, I know how to build things to be stable.”
“There's something to support it under there, right?”
“Of course there is, goodness, Merlin,” Arthur laughs.
“What?”
“It doesn't matter!” Arthur replies a little too quickly.
So naturally, Merlin sits up and crawls closer to the tree. “Are those my textbooks?”
“No, that's the pot,” Arthur replies, deadpan.
“And is that your trash can?” Merlin asks, laughing as he squints through paper and pens to see the black mesh of Arthur's recycle bin.
“Shhh, it's the trunk,” Arthur replies, pulling Merlin away from the tree and manhandling him back under the covers.
“And where did you get the glitter?”
“From the little girl on the floor below us. You can have it as your gift, it's not like I haven anything else to offer you.” Arthur's voice is gradually getting quieter, which makes Merlin sleepy, so he settles into their make-shift bed and cuddles up to Arthur's side, making himself comfortable and letting his eyelids droop a little.
“That's all right,” he replies into Arthur's shoulder, “I'll just take this romantic dinner and your masterpiece as my present.” Arthur swats him lightly on the shoulder. Merlin laughs and pulls the blankets around them tighter.
He lets the blinking of the red light lull him to sleep, thinking how this is the first time he's actually felt like the holiday season has indeed started. So maybe their tree is basically a recycle! campaign, and maybe their Christmas feast was Thai takeaway, and maybe this isn't the best Christmas he's ever had. But that all doesn't matter. What matters is that Merlin is full, he's warm, he's comfortable, he's with Arthur and he's happy. And that's what Christmas is all about.
~*~
Merlin's been living with Arthur for too long if the sudden clattering and clanking is a normal occurrence. He kicks Arthur in the shin and mumbles, “Remind to avoid that bridge at all cost.”
Arthur's “Shut up and sleep, Merlin” is muffled by the pillow.
A pencil rolls past Merlin's face. Merlin grins into the darkness. It's not Christmas until they've made some kind of a ridiculous mess.