~*~
The Sound of Silence
The meeting is a disaster. Arthur knows Camelot has better equipment than Essetir, he fucking knows it, he's seen Essetir's speakerphones and they're falling apart and he knows his are better. But ultimately, it's not his call. And the band wanted Essetir. He wonders what it was that Cenred did to convince them to pick his company.
It takes everything out of him not to shut the door to the conference room when he leaves. He stands by the door for a minute, turning on his phone and checking his watch for something to do as he gets himself together. He finds the floor very interesting as he walks back to his office.
Except, someone is already there. Arthur stands at the door and cocks his head to the side. Someone is in his office. He's sitting in one of the chairs across from Arthur's own and he doesn't seem to be doing anything there really - he's not touching anything on Arthur's desk, he's not playing with the chair, he's not examining the office. But he's there and Arthur is pretty sure he hasn't let him in. In fact, he's pretty sure he doesn't even know who the fuck the guy is.
He takes a deep breath. “Who are you?” he asks as calmly as he can. He can feel a headache forming between his temples. There's no reply. “Hello! Who the hell are you?” he repeats, louder this time. He walks into the office and drops his briefcase on the coffee table to the side of the door. “What the fuck is your problem?” he finally snaps. “Who the fuck are you and what are you doing here!?” With every word leaving his mouth, Arthur is more and more aware of how his head is pulsing. He hopes to god this guy is not a potential client, because he is so done with this entire day, he just can't stand to be fake polite anymore. And it's only 11 in the morning, too. “What are you, like, deaf?” he spits, rubbing the bridge of his nose.
“Yes, actually, that's exactly what he is.”
Arthur turns around, surprised to hear Morgana's voice. Then the words register. It must show on his face because Morgana laughs. She doesn't sound mad, just amused.
“Don't worry, he won't be offended,” she jokes.
Arthur rolls his eyes. “Had to go for the obvious?” She flashes him a smile as she approaches. He hugs her tightly, burying his face in her neck. She smells amazing, a fresh, herbal aroma. His headache subsides a little. “What are you even doing here? I thought you were supposed to be in France for that magazine shoot?”
“Oh Arthur, you always have been shit with dates,” she laughs.
She pats his cheek gently before turning the empty chair next to the guy Arthur yelled at for apparently no reason and to definitely no effect, and sitting down. The guy turns to her and smiles. Arthur's never seen him before. Morgana waves him towards his own chair and Arthur is suddenly reminded of their childhood, when Morgana loved to play the age card to make him pretend to have a tea party with her. He laughs to himself, unbuttons his jacket and sits down. The guy smiles at him as well and reaches out over the desk.
“Merlin, nice to meet you,” he says brightly.
“Arthur,” Arthur answers, shaking the guy's hand. He's tall and pale, dark-haired and light-eyed and atypically attractive and exactly Morgana's type. Arthur should've guessed.
“Merlin is my new assistant,” Morgana explains.
Arthur snorts. “You don't need an assistant!”
“Correction: I've never had an assistant,” she replies with a wicked grin. Arthur knows when to let it go. This is not one of those times.
“You are the Gordon Ramsay of marketing, Morgana, all you could possibly need is someone to carry your bags!” he contradicts. “And he, no offence,” he adds, turning to Merlin, “he doesn't look like someone you'd hire to do that.”
“None taken,” Merlin throws in, surprising Arthur who didn't expect a reaction.
“Merlin is finishing visual arts, he's creative, he's intelligent, he's good with people. I want someone like him working on my side,” Morgana says, putting her professional voice to good use. Arthur knows how she gets when she wants something, and this is it; he doesn't like being on the opposite side of the desk from her when she is doing serious business, and she clearly thinks this is serious business. “Uther left this company to the both of us. Now, I've stayed out of your way when it comes to management, but you've always trusted me with the face of the company in the public and I am telling you - you want Merlin to join us.”
Arthur sighs. He hates it when Morgana is right, it's a sibling thing, but he hates it even more when she is right with a good reason. “Fine,” he agrees, “I'll have his contract ready tomorrow.”
“No need, I already have it,” she interrupts before he can say anything else. She's back to her usual tone and has a wide smile on her face, which scares Arthur a little. Sometimes he is really glad she's working with him and not against him. It occurs to him, not for the first time, that Morgana doesn't actually have a contract with him. He shrugs it off. His headache was just beginning to dull down. She hands him a contract, already signed on one side in a messy scrawl with tall letters pushed together almost to the point of being a single line. Arthur signs on the other side.
“Here you are,” he announces, handing the contract back to Morgana. “Welcome to Camelot, I hope you will be happy working for us,” he says to Merlin, giving him the speech tiredly. Merlin looks at him the entire time he's speaking, his eyes not meeting Arthur's, but staying on Arthur's mouth. Arthur is momentarily confused before he realizes Merlin is reading his lips.
“Thank you,” he replies when Arthur is done. One side of his mouth twitches a little higher than the other when he looks Arthur in the eye. Arthur can't help smiling back. His headache is starting to fade.
“Good, now that that's settled,” Morgana says, straightening her dress and bringing Arthur's attention back to her, “I think it's safe to assume we lost the deal with Hellstage?” She makes it sound like it's a question, but Arthur knows she can tell from his mood that the meeting didn't go well. “You're going to need more media coverage, Arthur. We need something to put us on the map internationally, come on, Essetir is killing us.”
Arthur sighs. There she goes again, being right. “I suppose you have an idea, then?” It sounds just a bit more annoyed than he really is. He rubs his temples. His headache is now coming back full force.
“Hmm, not yet, actually. But Merlin and I,” she specifically stresses Merlin's name with a sweet smile in his direction, “will be working on it. We'll get back to you soon,” she promises. She puts a hand on Merlin's forearm to get his attention and gestures toward the office door. Arthur only realizes then that Merlin wasn't even looking at her to figure out what she was saying. The kid must really trust her.
“Nice to meet you, Arthur,” Merlin says before he leaves, shaking Arthur's hand again. Arthur is impressed by his balls - calling his boss by his first name mere minutes after meeting him is not standard practice to Arthur's knowledge.
Arthur watches them leave. They stand by the elevator, waiting and he can see Morgana gesticulating wildly, in an uncharacteristically good mood, and point at him every once in a while. Merlin is laughing; at first it's just a few nods and wide smiles, but then he has to cover his mouth with his hand and then he eventually just laughs, head thrown back and throat exposed, seemingly giving up on keeping it in. Arthur figures they're talking about him, but he doesn't mind. It's rare to see Morgana so carefree and anyone who can bring that side of her out again is someone Arthur can tolerate, no matter what. And besides, Merlin seems like a good fit for her. They look like a good couple.
~*~
Arthur is not even done checking his schedule when there's a knock on his door. “Yes?” he calls out, not looking up from his plan book. He assumes it's just Freya, bringing him the earnings reports he asked for, but then the knocking happens again and there is no way Freya would ever knock twice when she usually doesn't even bother waiting for him to respond to her first knock. He looks up. Merlin is standing by the glass door leading into Arthur's office, looking a bit confused. Arthur waves him in.
“Sorry, I assume you replied when I first knocked, but I wasn't sure so I knocked again,” he says immediately.
Arthur has never felt more awkward talking to someone who is supposed to be his employee. He has a strong urge to apologize, but at the same time, he has a feeling that might actually make the situation worse. He curses his lack of experience in dealing with people with any kind of a disability - he's not sure whether Merlin would think it was polite if Arthur treated him differently and be grateful, or if he would be enraged by special treatment and find it offensive. In the end, Merlin takes the immediate choice out of his hands. He doesn't react to Arthur's discomfort, quickly moving the conversation forward. Arthur can see why Morgana said he was good with people.
“So, Morgana and I have been talking,” he declares in a tone that almost sounds professional (or at least would sound professional if Merlin looked a little older and a little more like he belonged in an office instead of wearing colourful scarfs and plaid shirts), “and she figures she can get your sound boosters and mics featured in a few unrelated commercials, so that should help. But we should also do some ads ourselves, and I have a few ideas.” Merlin takes a small folder out of his messenger bag and opens it on the desk in front of Arthur. “They're just rough sketches,” he says, almost apologetically.
The folder contains three sheets of papers, all of different sizes, one of them has clearly been folded and unfolded multiple times. They're just line drawings, simple and unsophisticated and unfinished. One of them has colours written into different areas and is exactly what he'd expect from Merlin - artsy and vibrant and fresh, the other surprises him in its simple, understated elegance and the third one is literally just a bad pun (don't be deafeated by bad equipment - good sound is earreplaceable) that makes Arthur laugh, especially when he notices that Merlin appears a bit embarrassed by it. He looks up at Merlin, mildly impressed.
“Yeah?” Merlin asks, grinning. He's like a puppy, so excited and happy to be praised. Arthur is amused, despite himself. He makes a mental note not to send Merlin to any meeting unattended, though.
“All right, I'll think about this,” he says.
Merlin nods, stands up from where he was leaning over the desk and nods again. “Sorry, I... This is my first job like this, so, um, I'm not sure what happens next.”
“I'll pick one of these and let you know which it is so you can... refine it,” he replies, still looking down at the sketches. Then he realizes Merlin can't hear him. He raises his head to, sure enough, find Merlin looking at him expectantly. “I'll let you know soon which one to work on,” he repeats.
“Oh, okay,” Merlin agrees. “Well, I'll go now then.”
“Have a nice day,” Arthur says, waving Merlin out. When Merlin closes the glass door behind him, he waves at Arthur with a huge grin plastered on his face. Arthur shakes his head, already distracted by his daily schedule again. He wonders distantly how long it will be before the cut-throat corporate business dampens Merlin's contagious enthusiasm.
~*~
Arthur drops his keys into the bowl on the dresser in the hallway. Morgana's raincoat is hanging next to his.
“Morg?” he calls out into the living room. There's no response.
He takes off his shoes and puts them away. He loosens his tie as he walks to the kitchen. He has a glass of water before heading upstairs. He's in the middle of unbuttoning his shirt, when he passes Morgana's room. Someone's there, Arthur can hear Morgana talking to them, but he doesn't knock. He goes to change into something more casual first.
When he emerges from his room some 15 minutes later, freshly showered and wearing a faded grey tracksuit and a threadbare black t-shirt, Morgana and her guest have moved downstairs to the living area and the TV is on.
Arthur leans over the railing to find Morgana and Gwen sitting in the little white sofa in front of the TV, talking animatedly. “Hello, Gwen,” he calls out, makes a pause, then adds, “Morgana.”
“Ha, ha, very funny,” Morgana replies, not even looking away from the screen.
“Hello, Arthur,” Gwen says, looking up and smiling. Arthur smiles back. He quickly descends down the stairs, his bare feet making barely any sound. He can feel Gwen's eyes on him as he heads to the kitchen.
“Is there any food?” he remembers to yell before opening the fridge.
“Well, if you make it, there will be,” Morgana calls. She practically sings it and Arthur just knows she was planning on him cooking. He's hungry, so it's not a bad plan per se, but he's also tired and in a mood to contradict anything Morgana wants, so he decides to just pop some popcorns in the microwave. He grabs a beer from the fridge.
“Beer, ladies?” he asks, taking a mental inventory of the fridge. They really need to go grocery shopping.
He hears Gwen's “None for me, thanks!” almost at the same time when Morgana says, “I'll have one!” They laugh to themselves as he grabs another bottle, then closes the fridge.
Morgana is not amused by his solution to their lack of an evening meal. “You don't deserve it,” she grouches when he motions for her to scoot over, but she does it anyway.
He settles in between them. Morgana grabs a fistful of popcorn, spilling a few on Arthur's lap. Gwen, on the other hand scoots closer and leans against his arm.
“What are we watching?” Arthur asks. He's long ago learnt that arguing with Morgana about the remote never ends well for him.
“Police Women of Broward County,” Gwen says, picking popcorn up from Arthur's chest.
“This one idiot of a woman just said the weed in her fucking bra was blown there by the wind!” Morgana informs him, waving her arms around exaggeratedly. “Like, how stupid can you get?” Gwen shakes her head with a smile.
Arthur feels like he will never know how on earth Gwen and Morgana became such close friends, being as different as they are. However it happened, Arthur is glad. He loves Gwen like another sister. He just wishes he hadn't had to date her to figure that out. They've both moved past it by now, it was years ago after all, but Gwen sometimes still gives him these looks that make him feel so guilty for breaking up with her. She's always been understanding, she's always said she didn't mind being his 'straight experimentation phase', but sometimes Arthur still can't get out of his own head over it.
“Oh come on, dude, in which universe were you gonna be able to outrun all of them!” Morgana yells, throwing a popcorn at the screen. Gwen laughs and Arthur just shakes his head. He slides a little lower in his seat until he's half lying down. The plastic bowl of popcorn is still warm where it rests on his stomach. He watches deputy Ana Murillo patrol the streets with mild interest while Gwen mostly tries to provoke Morgana into animated commentary. Arthur starts to drift off.
~*~
Merlin is 6 minutes late to his scheduled meeting, but Arthur decides to forgive him when he sees him in a suit. It's navy blue with thin grey stripes and Merlin looks so uncomfortable in it that Arthur has to laugh. He's suddenly very glad he let Morgana convince him to keep the meeting private just between him and Merlin.
“Oh shut up,” Merlin says under his breath. Arthur laughs even harder. Merlin rolls his eyes and waits it out. By the time Arthur is getting himself under control, Merlin is smiling as well.
“All right, show me.”
Merlin takes the large carton cut-out out of its paper confines and hands it to Arthur. The colours are more pastel than Arthur expected them to be and the entire thing looks a lot less like a child drew it and a lot more like a very chic, jazzy, groovy poster. Arthur nods appraisingly.
“I take it you like it,” Merlin comments.
“Yeah, it looks very-“ Arthur catches himself just in time and remembers to look up. “It looks like something that would make me wanna go to the nearest store and get that mic,” he says honestly, surprising even himself with how much he really means it.
The reaction that Merlin rewards him with is something Arthur memorizes for cheering up on any future bad days. Merlin smiles and nods, then sits down like his legs can't keep him standing any longer.
Arthur puts the cardboard aside, placing against his desk face up so he can still see it. He leans forward, his arms on the desk, fingers interlaced. Merlin looks up. “Well done,” Arthur tells him.
For what feels like a very long time, Merlin doesn't react. He just looks at Arthur like he's not really sure Arthur is even real; his eyes are shining and his lips are parted and Arthur immediately feels like he has to force himself to stop looking. He sits back in his chair and looks at the poster for the ad again for something to do.
“Arthur?” Merlin says. When Arthur looks up, he find that it's Merlin who's leaning on his desk now. He looks a weird mix of determinedly serious and nervously giddy. “I just wanted to say...” He takes a deep breath. “I want to thank you.”
“What for?” Arthur asks, genuinely confused.
“I'm an artist. I've always thought of myself as an artist. And I mean, we both know that most people don't live off their art. And, well, you have given me the opportunity to do just that. And just... thank you.”
Arthur doesn't know what to say to that. He feels like Merlin has just told him something important, something that means a lot to him and Arthur appreciates that. He wishes he knew how to express that without being completely inappropriate and unprofessional.
“It's a pleasure,” he ends up saying weakly. It seems to be enough for Merlin, though.
“It really is,” he replies. “See you around!”
Arthur almost says something to stop him, but then he remembers Merlin is Morgana's boyfriend, Morgana's assistant, Morgana's little pet talent. He watches Merlin leave and hopes Freya doesn't notice he's checking him out. The suit actually looks very good on him, despite his obvious discomfort.
He gets back to the sales figures he was reading before Merlin came in. it's difficult to get Merlin out of his mind, but he does his best to convince himself that Merlin is off limits. He's not even sure what it is about Merlin that gets under his skin. He decides to think it's because Morgana likes him and because that automatically makes Arthur want him even more.
He stands up, buttons his jacket and straightens it. He picks up the poster and heads to the board meeting, confident in his solution for their dropping sales.
~*~
“I invited Merlin to join us.”
Arthur hisses when the tip of the knife just bites at the thin skin on his thumb. He lets go of the knife and the pepper he's dicing immediately, puts his thumb in his mouth and sucks hard. It stings.
“I hope you don't mind? Are you all right over there?” Morgana asks from the dining area where she is setting the table, adding a fifth chair and plate.
Arthur can taste the blood in his mouth. He takes a napkin from a drawer behind him and wraps it around his thumb. “Um. Yeah, yeah, I'm fine. I don't mind Merlin coming over,” he says. His heart is beating a little faster.
“Good! Well, then you also won't mind that Elyan couldn't make it, so I told Merlin he could bring a friend.”
Arthur bites the inside of his cheek and glares at Morgana over the island separating the kitchen from the dining room. “You just love springing this shit up on me last minute, don't you?”
“A little bit,” she admits with a grin. When she looks at him over a wine glass she's putting down, however, and notices the bloody napkin around his finger, her face goes blank. “Oh my god. Are you all right?”
“I'm fine, really,” he assures her, removing the napkin to show her that the cut has stopped bleeding. She relaxes instantly. Ever since their father died, Morgana's been a lot quicker to panic when faced with any kind of injury. It hurts Arthur to see his big sister, always the cool and collected one between the two of them, so easily shaken. “So, this friend?” he prompts, hoping to distract Morgana. It works.
“Yeah, I actually have no clue who he is?” she replies. She starts distributing the spoons around the table. “I just know his name is Gwaine and he's Merlin's ex.”
Arthur's hand pauses over the knife he was about to pick up again. He's suddenly very glad he didn't. “Merlin's ex?” he echoes.
“Yeah. Why are you surprised, you and Gwen are pretty close too!”
“Well, yes,” he concedes. “But that's different. Gwen and I were never going to work. For obvious reasons.”
“Well, I guess him and Gwaine were never going to work either. Boy, I'm really glad my name doesn't start with gw-,” she adds.
Arthur rolls his eyes at her. He starts chopping the onions. “So... Merlin is bi then?” he asks in what he hopes is a casual tone. He can't deny the way his heart lifted when Morgana mentioned Gwaine's previous relationship with Merlin.
“I- I suppose? Never really asked him,” Morgana says. It doesn't sound like she's pulling his leg so he thinks he might have pulled off the casual bit. That is, until Morgana asks, “Why?”
“Er, just curious,” he lies. His knife slips and the onion slice he cuts is about twice the thickness it should be. “I mean, if he used to date Gwaine, who is a dude or so you tell me, and now there's you...”
The sound of cutlery clinking against a plate reaches him first and then there's Morgana's laugh closely following it. He finishes chopping the onion. He takes another one and chops that one too. He puts them in the frying pan where they immediately start sizzling. Morgana is still laughing.
“Care to share?” he asks, his curiosity having long ago faded into confusion and then irritation.
Morgana takes a few more seconds to calm down. One of her hands is pressed against her stomach and she's leaning against the table. “Just to make sure I got that right - you think Merlin and I are dating?”
“Yes?” Arthur tries. He thinks back to every interaction between Morgana and Merlin he's witnessed; yes, he's definitely Morgana's type and yes, they're definitely close, but the truth is, Arthur has never seen them acting as anything more than friends. Suddenly, Arthur feels incredibly embarrassed.
“Merlin and I? Are not dating!” Morgana says, laughing once again.
Arthur's face feels like he could very well be making dinner on it and not the stove. “Fine, fine, I get it,” he whines grabbing the pan without thinking. He lets go almost the moment his finger make contact, so the burn is not serious, but it still hurts like hell and Arthur yelps. Morgana almost breaks a glass. “Just not my night tonight is it?” Arthur comments. Morgana makes a disapproving sound with her tongue, already cracking an egg and separating the white. She smears it on his hand with gentle fingers.
“Get out of the kitchen, I'm cooking tonight. I've had it with you almost giving me heart attacks.”
~*~
Arthur tops off Gwen's glass. She nods a thank you to him, then turns her attention back on Gwaine, who is telling what Arthur hopes to be an exaggerated version of a ZOO anecdote that included a guard, a young Gwaine, a shaky cage and a very drunk giraffe. Morgana and Gwen are like hypnotized, watching Gwaine as he talks and drinking in every word, laughing at all the appropriate times and asking a few questions here and there. Merlin, who is seated to Gwaine's left and is leaning over a little bit to see Gwaine's face, looks amused, but is also rolling his eyes whenever Gwaine says something that sounds particularly hard to believe. Arthur gets the feeling he's heard the story before and probably not the same version of it.
He watches carefully as Merlin's long fingers wrap around the stem of his wine glass and bring it to his lips. He takes a small sip and swallows it slowly. Arthur follows the bobbing of Merlin's throat.
Around him, Gwen and Morgana both erupt into a laughing fit and Arthur takes that as the cue that the story has ended. He chuckles at the point he didn't hear while casting just the briefest of glances at Merlin's face. Merlin is looking at him. Arthur doesn't even know if he's hoping that Merlin didn't notice him looking, or that Merlin totally caught him staring.
~*~
“Hey,” Morgana says, poking her head into Arthur's office. Arthur mumbles in response. He's knee-deep in deciphering R&D's report on the new headphones they've been working on and as much as he loves Morgana, he doesn't have time for her right now. “I know you're busy-“ Morgana starts.
“Then why are you talking to me?”
“But,” she continues like he didn't even say anything, “Merlin and I were thinking about going out for drinks tonight. To celebrate his first successful campaign. And I thought maybe you'd want to join us?”
Arthur pretends to still only be half-listening, the way he always does when Morgana casually (but not really; Arthur is on to her, the scheming minx) mentions that he should join something she and Merlin were doing these days. “Yeah, sure,” he replies as nonchalantly as he thinks he can pull off without sounding any alarms in Morgana's head. He's not fooling her, he can tell.
“Excellent! Gwaine and Elyan and Gwen and Leon are joining us. Probably Freya too. If her slave driver of a boss lets her out a bit early.”
“Yes, yes, whatever,” he says, waving her off. The door of the office closes quietly. Arthur grins stupidly at the unintelligible bullshit on his laptop.
~*~
When Arthur gets to the elevator, he find the button for up already pressed. He looks to his side and sees Merlin there.
“Good morning, boss,” Merlin greets politely. Too politely.
“You're not gonna shock me into forgetting you're a whole hour late to work, Merlin,” he replies. Merlin smiles at him like he knows Arthur is full of shit.
“Morgana gave me a free morning,” he says, only briefly checking which floor their elevator was on.
“Did she now,” Arthur comments, more to himself than to anyone else. He can feel Merlin's eyes on his face, but at this point, he's already used to that.
“And why are you late, if I may notice?”
“Because I decide when the work hours begin,” Arthur answers readily, stepping into the elevator. He presses both the button for his floor, and the one for the marketing department. Merlin smiles gratefully at him.
The elevator ride is short, but by the fourth floor, only halfway there, Arthur is already fighting the urge to fidget. He keeps looking to his side, to Merlin's fingers resting on his bag, drumming a rhythm Arthur doesn't recognize. He wonders if it's weird for Merlin to see that, if he ever just looks at himself and thinks about all the sounds he must be making but can't hear.
“So, Gwaine is tending the bar at this club tonight,” Merlin says out of the blue. “He promises free drinks to all of his friends he finds attractive. Which is, really, all of his friends.” Merlin's voice is fond when he talks of Gwaine. Arthur wonders what Merlin sounds like when he's talking about him. “Wanna come?”
Arthur might be imagining it, but he thinks there might be a hint of hope in Merlin's question. His fingers have stopped moving. “Clubbing is not really my thing,” he says.
“Oh.” Merlin's fingers are restless again.
“But I can make an exception,” he adds quickly.
“Oh!” This time, there's definitely excitement in the sound. “Great! Well, pick me up after work? Morgana has to sort things out for the trip and book the tickets for the flight.”
“Sure,” Arthur agrees. He wants to say something more, but the elevator makes its annoying, mechanical ding sound and the door opens to the 9th floor. “See you then!” he manages to squeeze in before the door closes again. He doesn't think Merlin catches it.
Arthur goes to his office and sits at his desk, automatically logging into his e-mail account and taking out his planner. Clubbing with Merlin. It could be a chance for him to see Merlin in a different setting. It could be a chance for something to happen. Arthur's palms are already sweating at just the idea. He doesn't remember being this nervous about talking to someone he likes since junior high.
Him and Merlin, they've been dancing around whatever this thing between them was for weeks now, ever since that dinner at Arthur's place (definitely caught staring), Arthur more confident and open about his attraction since he found out Merlin was single and Merlin apparently, contradictory, more nervous now that he could probably safely guess that Arthur liked him, but still as determined and as much of a tease as ever.
Arthur can just imagine them in a cartoon, on a sports court, him in one corner and Merlin in the other, both slowly moving towards the centre. In that metaphor, he mused, Morgana would be the referee, waiting at the finish line and betting on who was gonna get there first.
Arthur is more than certain now that Morgana has been subtly trying to get them together all along and that Arthur's misperception of her own relationship with Merlin was just a bit of a set back in her plan. A part of him is outraged that she would meddle into his personal life like that. Another part of him is touched that she cares. But mostly, he's just grateful. Not that he'll tell her that.
~*~
“You know, I have to say, you don't strike me as a type to go to clubs,” Arthur has to say. He's driving Merlin home at 3 in the morning and he sends a silent prayer of thanks to the traffic gods for the empty streets because between turning toward Merlin every once in a while to enable conversation (and stare a little), being just this side of tipsy, and almost falling asleep from lack of rest, Arthur is not being the most conscientious driver right now. He will hate himself when he's gotten a little sleep and regained the ability to grasp just how dangerous this is. For now, he just drives.
“What, you figured me more for the kind of guy who goes to acoustic plays in cafes and visits art shows?”
“Well, yeah.” The alcohol is making Arthur bold and a lot less concerned about what is leaving his mouth than he usually is.
Merlin laughs. “Yeah, okay, I'm not gonna lie, you're not wrong,” he replies. “That's exactly the type I am.” From the corner of his eye, Arthur sees him look out of the window. When he speaks again, it's quiet and he sounds almost sad. “Or I used to be. I go to clubs because those are the only places where I can be absolutely certain I will 'hear' any music. That's why I go there so often.”
Arthur doesn't know what to say. He drives in silence down two more turns.
“But,” Merlin says, startling Arthur by putting a warm hand on his knee, “that's not really a conversation for a car lift home, is it?”
Arthur makes a sound that he himself isn't sure was affirmative. He can't think clearly with Merlin's hand moving a few inches above his knee and squeezing his thigh.
“So how would you feel about going to dinner with me?”
Arthur manages to stop himself from stepping on the brake only because he can see Merlin's apartment building in front of him. He pulls up to the curb in front of it and only then lets Merlin's words sink in. His hands reflexively squeeze around the wheel a few times. He can feel fucking butterflies in his stomach.
He looks at Merlin. Merlin's hands are in his lap now and he's fidgeting, but that's that only sign that he's nervous at all. He's looking at Arthur expectantly and doesn't seem to be ready to leave the car before he gets his answer. Arthur thinks the butterflies from his stomach might be moving up to his head because he is beginning to really want to smile, and smile wide.
“Yeah, I'd love to go to dinner with you.”
~*~
Arthur barges into Morgana's room, vindictively deciding to wake her up by tickling her. She grumbles at him and pushes at his hands. “What do you waaaaant?” she whines.
“You win,” he tells her, “Merlin asked me out. We're going to dinner on Sunday.”
Morgana grins at him through the fingers covering her face. “I knew it!” she says.
“You win,” he repeats, still bent over her bed.
“Oh, Arthur.” Morgana reaches out and pulls Arthur's face down. She kisses his forehead. “It wasn't a game,” she says.
“Riiiiiight,” Arthur replies, hugging her. “Oh, come on, I know you've been trying to play matchmaker with us all along. Just wanted to let you know - your plan worked.”
“You can thank me on your wedding! And it wasn't a game,” Morgana says again when he steps away from the bed. “It was totally a game,” he hears her mumble into her pillow just before Arthur closes the door.
“I heard that!”
~*~
Arthur's phone beeps and vibrates against the polished surface of the nightstand. Morgana picks it up. “It's from Merlin,” she announces.
“Read it,” Arthur tells her, running his finger over the clothes in his closet. Since Merlin is taking him out, he's also picking the place. Arthur had to text Merlin to ask him what he should wear and he was waiting for the reply. It's only now that he's looking at all his clothes that he realizes his wardrobe is not very diverse.
“He says something casual,” Morgana informs him. She sounds way too excited. Arthur waits for the rest of the text, because he is sure there is something else there, something that he's sure Morgana is gonna be using to tease him about soon enough. “But also, to wear something that makes your ass look good,” she adds, giggling.
Arthur's head drops between his shoulders, his face heating up. He feels a little bit ridiculous. Having done everything he's done in his life, having been in boarding school most of his childhood, having defied his father most every step of his adult life, having run a corporation since he was only 26, he thinks it's odd that this is what he gets nervous about. He's stood in front of people who could practically end his life as he knew it and stood his ground without breaking a sweat, and now one dinner gets him flustered. He presses his forehead to the closet doors. He's going out with Merlin. It's happening, he's going out with Merlin. He's not sure if the laugh that bubbles out of him is nervous or happy.
He doesn't hear it when Morgana walks in, but he feels her small hand between his shoulder blades. “It's really not that dire of a situation,” she teases, patting him, “I'm sure we can find something casual in here.” Arthur laughs. “Here, these,” Morgana says, pulling out a pair of dark slacks. “They're casual. Well, casual enough. And you know what, they do make your ass look fantastic. Now, let's see if you have anything that is not a starched dress shirt in there.”
She does end up pulling out a dress shirt, but it's one that Arthur hasn't worn in ages. It's pristinely clean, the white of it almost shining, but it's wrinkled (“That's the point, Arthur, stop trying to straighten it!”). The buttons are a deep red colour and the Pendragon family crest is embroidered on the left breast pocket. Arthur runs his fingers over it.
“You're sure this is not a little too much?” he asks.
“Oh please, Merlin will love it, he's weird like that, likes old things.” She grins at him wickedly over her shoulder. Arthur raises an eyebrow at her to remind her that she's even older than him. “He'll probably ask you about it, how come we even have a crest and what you knew about it, so I hope you remember all of Uther's lectures about. Not that there is any way you wouldn't remember, he gave them at practically every meal we ever shared,” she quickly adds as she pushes him out of the closet and back to his room. She pats his chest and gestures for him to change clothes. The sound of their doorbell rings through the house. “Ah, that'll be Gwen and Elyan,” Morgana says, sounding delighted. “I invited them over for some consultations,” she explains as she goes to get the door.
Arthur wants to be frustrated with her, but as he takes off his t-shirt, shrugs into the shirt Morgana picked out and starts buttoning it up, he knows it's not frustration that has his fingers shaking.
By the time everyone is back upstairs (Morgana entering his room first, then Gwen and Elyan followed by some guy Arthur has never met in his life which is a little bit weird considering they are all in his bedroom and he is zipping up his pants), Arthur has mostly finished getting dressed. He looks down at himself and only then realizes how extremely disconcerting he finds that lack of a tie and a jacket on top of his shirt.
“Ooh, looking good,” Elyan teases him. Arthur wishes he was still young enough to get away with sticking his tongue out at people or flipping them off.
“It actually does look good!” Gwen says honestly, reaching out to smooth her fingers over the Pendragon crest. “I've never seen you wear that before.”
“First of all, can I just say how happy I am that you all have such faith in the idea that I can look good,” he deadpans, “and secondly, thank you, Gwen.” Gwen smiles at him briefly, before looking back down at the crest.
“That's some excellent work,” she murmurs to herself. Arthur can just see the clogs working in her brain, memorizing the stitching pattern.
“And thirdly,” he adds belatedly, talking to the guy Gwen and Elyan brought, “no offence, but you're in my bedroom and I have no idea who you are.”
“Right,” the guy laughs, extending his hand. “I'm Lancelot. Gwen and I have been friends for-“
“Ah, yes, now I know,” Arthur interrupts him. Gwen has always spoken about Lancelot with high praise, always sounding just a little bit smitten and Arthur has long begun wondering if Lancelot was even real or if Gwen was just idealizing him. Standing in front of Lancelot now, though, he can see the appeal.
“Lancelot just got back from Somalia,” Elyan says as he jumps onto Arthur’s bed. Doctors Without Borders, Arthur remembers, feeling a little slow for how long it takes him. He must be really preoccupied, he realizes. It'd be funny if it didn't make him even more nervous.
“All right, everyone, we have about half an hour to coach Arthur how to act on a date,” Morgana tells everyone, clapping her hands once. Arthur shoves at her shoulder, privately admitting that yeah, maybe he could use some help.
“Definitely roll up the sleeves,” Elyan throws in from the bed.
“Oh, yes,” Lancelot agrees, sitting down next to Elyan. He fits in with them surprisingly smoothly. Arthur feels like he already knows Lancelot, having heard so much about him from Gwen. He likes Lancelot, he decides as Morgana goes to the bathroom to pick out cologne for him. He feels a little like a dress up doll. But then, these are some of the people who know him best and if there is anyone he trusts to help him make this work, it's them. And since he really wants to make this work, he will take any help he can get. He grins at random when it hits him, yet again, that he's going on a date with Merlin. Lancelot puts a hand on his shoulder like he understands. They could become good friends, Arthur decides.
~*~
Arthur picks Merlin up in front of his apartment complex. Merlin is wearing a light blue shirt and dark jeans, a black scarf loosely tied around his neck and Arthur only feels a little overdressed. When he reaches out and opens the passenger door, his hand is trembling. Merlin slides into the car gracefully, his hand brushing up the entire length of Arthur's arm to squeeze his shoulder.
“Hello,” he says. He sounds breathy.
“Hey,” Arthur replies. He stifles down a nervous laugh. Merlin doesn't seem to be in a better shape, though.
~*~
The restaurant they're in is very obviously a family business, but it's not exactly what Arthur expects. The walls are white with brick red accents (Arthur felt like a waiter when he first walked in, until he saw that all the waiting staff was wearing black uniforms) and littered with photos of the same few people with various happy customers. There are symmetrically placed tall vases with real palm leaves. Arthur is surprisingly impressed by Merlin's choice (he doesn't even know why he keeps being surprised anymore; he decisively doesn't think about how he continues to expect the other shoe to drop because he feels like Merlin just might be too good for him, too good to be interested in him), which Merlin doesn't miss. “I thought you might like it. I know the owners so I got us a reservation,” he said when they first walked in, Arthur's hand glued to Merlin's lower back.
“The guy is an asshole!” Merlin says now, tipping his wine glass in Arthur's direction before taking a sip. “I mean, it's supposed to be a creative design class, right? He just wants everyone to do what he does! That's not creativity.”
“Mmhm,” Arthur agrees, the fingers of his right hand itching to move just that little bit closer and touch Merlin's hand. He can't stop looking at Merlin, hasn't even been trying to for the last hour and a half. His nerves have simmered down to a pleasant buzz in his stomach, he hasn't embarrassed himself (not counting the fact that he's sure the entire restaurant can see him staring at Merlin with the expression of a lovestruck teenager), the conversation is running smoothly (more or less - Merlin occasionally asks him to repeat something) and Merlin seems to be having a good time. Arthur is definitely having a good time, the best he's had in a long time, he realizes.
“I'm sorry,” Merlin laughs, “but your face hasn't changed and I can't tell if you reacted to that at all.”
“Oh!” Arthur starts to apologize, but he knows by now that Merlin genuinely doesn't mind. It's one of the things he admires about Merlin, that he is so flexible about the way people treat him, even though sometimes it feels like the world is somehow failing Merlin in forcing him to adjust instead of becoming more accessible to him. “Sometimes I just... forget you can't hear me,” Arthur admits.
“Good,” Merlin replies. “I'll take that as a compliment.”
Arthur thinks about that for a second. “Yeah, you should. You're probably better adjusted than most of the people I know who are perfectly-“ He doesn't know how to end that.
“Normal?” Merlin suggests, laughing. “You can say it.”
“I don't want to,” Arthur replies.
“Good answer,” Merlin grins at him. Arthur doesn't know why he's so proud of himself about just that one thing. “Go ahead, I'm sure you have questions,” he adds.
For the first time all evening, Arthur feels uncomfortable. He does have questions, but he doesn't know how to ask them; they feel somehow wrong. Merlin puts a hand on his shoulder.
“I wasn't born deaf,” he says, “as you might have figured from the fact that I talk about as well as a person of hearing. Or so I'm told. A couple of years ago, I started getting dizzy spells, my ears would start ringing. And then one morning I woke and I just... couldn't hear.”
“You don't have to tell me these things,” Arthur interrupts. He can feel that mood has shifted, become more solemn and he doesn't want to ruin an otherwise very pleasant evening.
Merlin smiles sadly, looking away from Arthur's face and turning to the three candles in the centre of their table. “At the risk of scaring you off,” he says, “but I really like you. I want to make this work. And well, let's be real for a second, you've never dated a deaf person, you have no clue what you're doing here,” he grins teasingly at Arthur, “and maybe it will help you to... know more.”
Arthur is shocked into silence by Merlin's honesty. He is not used to someone being that frank with him, especially not in his line of work. He thinks back to the first time he met Merlin - even then, Merlin wasn't only unfazed by Arthur's authority, he challenged it. He smiles at the memory. He notices he's not nervous anymore, even though they're venturing into more serious topics.
“Yeah, it probably will,” he admits.
“They call it the sudden deafness syndrome. Imaginative, I know.” He shakes his head. “It's usually partial hearing loss and it's usually temporary, but I had to be special.” Merlin's voice is steady and his expression is blankly polite. Arthur can sense just a hint of bitterness coming from him, though. “It was terrible at first,” he admits, his face crumbling. “I had been so used to being surrounded by sound all the time and just... People think it's just silence, when you're deaf. It's more that that, it's the kind of silence that feels like that annoying, constant, flat sound, it's like someone is putting pressure on your brain, it's suffocating.”
Arthur has never heard Merlin sound like that, so broken. He wishes he could just do something to erase that whole part of Merlin's life. He reaches out over the table and takes Merlin's hand. That seems to break Merlin out of his spell and when he looks at Arthur again, there's a small smile on his face.
“You get used to it, though. At first I was just very mad, and then I put everything into hoping that I will get better. And while I was waiting to magically suddenly start hearing again, I... Well, I got used to not hear. I adjusted. In the end, I didn't mind that much,” he finishes.
“So, is there still a possibility that you'll hear again?” Arthur asks carefully.
“Oh, yeah. The thing about sudden deafness is that no one actually has a clue about it. They don't know why it happens, they don't know how to stop it and they don't know how to fix it.” Merlin squeezes Arthur's hand lightly. “But I've stopped expecting it.”
When Merlin doesn't say anything more, Arthur decides that he doesn't want to pry. He believes that Merlin wants to tell him everything, but he also thinks that maybe, just for once, Merlin may be overestimating himself. He doesn't think it's as easy for Merlin to talk about this as Merlin usually makes it seem.
Since Merlin is not looking at him anymore, Arthur taps the side of Merlin's hand with his thumb to get his attention. “You're very good at reading lips,” he says, blatantly shifting the subject of conversation to a safer zone.
Merlin laughs. It doesn't quite sound like he's okay again, but it's close. “Thank you! It's all just one very long guessing game, to be honest,” he admits. “Half the time I only catch every other word and then I just fill the rest in logically. Doesn't always work out exactly as I planned.”
Encouraged by his successful technique for lightening the mood, Arthur decides to throw caution to the wind and just go for it. “I have to say, it can be very distracting that you're always looking at my mouth.” His heart is beating faster and feels like it's crawling up his throat, but the fact that Merlin's hand has not moved from his gives him hope. He's looking at Merlin's eyes as he says it so he sees the flicker of surprise, quickly masked away when Merlin smiles brightly and a little nervously.
“Yeah? I've been told it looks like I want to kiss everyone,” he says, seemingly stuck between making it a joke and trying to be seductive, and so help him, but Arthur finds it adorable. “See, that didn't go as I planned either. Let me try that again.” Arthur laughs. Merlin leans in closer, and Arthur mirrors him. “If it looks like I want to kiss you,” Merlin breathes, this time totally succeeding in making Arthur want to pull him closer and forget there are other patrons around them, “it's because I do.”
Arthur gives Merlin about two seconds to change his mind before leaning in and pressing his lips to Merlin's. Merlin is more than ready for it, though, his free hand finding its place on Arthur's neck pulling him closer. Arthur expects Merlin to kiss like he does everything else - quickly and straightforwardly, taking no nonsense. But he doesn't. When Arthur licks at Merlin's lips, Merlin opens his mouth slowly, only just touching Arthur's tongue with his own. It's intoxicating, the way Merlin teases him and makes him work for it; it makes him always want more.
Distracted by Merlin's mouth, Arthur doesn't notice that he's leaning too far over the table and knocks off a half full glass of wine. He hears it break on the floor, and pulls away. Merlin frowns at him and just squints with one eye, like he's gauging why Arthur is not kissing him anymore. Arthur waves to the side of the table and says, “Glass.”
Merlin looks down and starts laughing. “Well, it's flattering to know I have that effect on you,” he squeezes out between fits of laughter. Their waiter, a kid named Will who's been unusually attentive to their table all night, is already cleaning up the mess, looking, of all things, like he's about to start laughing as well. Arthur thinks it's unprofessional until Merlin kicks at the kid's foot from under the table with a “Shut up, Will,” and Arthur figures out they know each other.
Merlin kisses him again when he stops laughing, not knocking anything off the table this time, and Arthur can feel the smile against his lips. It's the best date he's ever been on.
~*~