FIC: Serendipitous (2/2)
Part I
Three days before the wedding, 2010
The first round of interviews went about as well as Arthur expected them to.
Morris was nice enough and Arthur thought, if pressed, he could probably work Paint or an uncomplicated word processor, but not much beyond that.
(“How much of this résumé is actually true, Morris?”
“Well…my name really is Morris, sir.”
“Right. Very good. Thank you for coming in, Morris.”)
Mordred was significantly more skilled, and probably would have been a good candidate if he were less unnerving. He spent the entire interview glaring at Arthur across the desk like he’d been personally offended and was plotting violent revenge.
(“How did that one go?” Leon asked, once he was gone.
“I’ll let you know when I get the image of him massacring everyone with a shotgun out of my head.”)
And Cedric was probably the biggest kiss-ass he’d ever met. Arthur contemplated, at one point during the interview, whether he would continue to blindly agree with everything Arthur said if Arthur told him he looked a bit like a rat. He didn’t try it and find out, but it was a near thing.
After Cedric had gone, Leon came into his office with a cup of coffee and an aspirin. “I’m nominating you for sainthood,” he said, once he’d swallowed the pill and half of the coffee.
“Don’t bother. You’d just make me do the paperwork.”
He pillowed his head on the hard wood of his desk. “I have my first meeting with John Drake this afternoon. Can you stay late tonight?”
“I dug out the Chinese takeaway menus first thing this morning.”
“Good man.”
***
Merlin didn’t pack much, just the essentials: his laptop and charger, his toothbrush, and whatever clothes he had crammed into his wardrobe.
He’d delighted his uncle Gaius with a gasped “Yes, okay” once he’d picked himself up from the floor, then spent the next eighteen hours figuring out how quickly he could orchestrate an International move.
He spent more of it than he would have liked on the phone with his mother, explaining what had happened with Will, assuring her that he hadn’t just made the biggest mistake of his life, and finally diverting her attention with an exclamation of “Gaius got me a job in New York!” after which she demanded to speak to Gaius and, well, the speaker on his mobile had always been very good.
Otherwise, it was a surprisingly simple (if frantic) process. His flat was much too small for any clutter, and what few possessions he did have could easily be posted to him later; he didn’t have to form any messy goodbyes (he didn’t call Will - even if he hadn’t been hung up on, saying ‘I’m leaving the country’ right after ‘No, I can’t marry you’ seemed a bit like adding insult to injury) because the only friends he talked to on a regular basis would be waiting for him when he got there; Gaius assured him that his to-be employer was taking care of his work visa; and he solved the money dilemma as best he could by going to a few of the ATMs nearby and pulling enough from his account to cover him for a few days, until Gaius could wire the rest to Gwen.
And while he knew he should have been more worried, battling with the what-ifs and what-do-I-dos, considering the long-term implications of life in another country, he just couldn’t bring himself to move beyond his excitement.
Gaius drove him to the airport that morning for his 11 a.m. flight and hugged him goodbye at the gate. Merlin told him ‘thank you’ a dozen times and ‘I love you’ half a dozen times more, until his uncle shoved him in the direction of the gate and told him, amused and affectionate, “Oh, get on with it.”
But the best part of it was, when he was settled into his seat with his laptop case in the compartment overhead, the stranger in the seat next to his pulled a copy of Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy out of his bag and tucked it under his chin. Merlin smiled a private smile out the open window and knew, once and for all, that this was exactly where he was supposed to be.
***
John Drake was…well. He was just as insane as Arthur’s father had said he was.
“Destiny has great things in store for you, my young Mr. Penn,” he said, when Arthur had spent nearly ten minutes unsuccessfully trying to get him to discuss his book.
Arthur took a deep breath and hoped that humoring the man would get them on track faster. He and Leon had a cute Englishman to find. “Is that so?”
“Indeed,” Drake smiled. “Much like your legendary counterpart, you need only find your Merlin. Only then will your heart be complete.”
Arthur gaped at him for a long moment. “How did you-“ he started, and then tried again, “Don’t you mean I should find my Guinevere? She was King Arthur’s great love, wasn’t she?”
Drake shrugged, but he was still smiling in that same vague, now rather unsettling way. “I suppose it depends on which version of the legends you believe.” With that pronouncement he made to stand, leaving Arthur gaping at him again.
“Mr. Drake! We haven’t discussed business yet. Where are you going?”
“I believe we’ve said quite enough for today, don’t you?” He picked up the case that had been left unopened on the floor by his feet. “There will be other meetings for everything else. Have your charming assistant out there set it up.”
Arthur blinked a couple times, disbelieving. “Yes, of course.”
Drake was almost at the door when he turned around and looked straight at Arthur. “Your father tells me you’re getting married this weekend. I suppose I should be offering my congratulations?” The expression in his eyes was almost disapproving and it, like most things about this man, took him by surprise.
Eventually Arthur stammered out, “Right. Thank you, Mr. Drake,” and then Drake was gone, Arthur staring bemusedly after him.
***
When he got through the many levels of security John F. Kennedy Airport had to offer its international travelers (as much as he loved Gwen and Lance, there was a reason he didn’t visit them more), Merlin stumbled exhaustedly toward the baggage claim, and fumbled his phone from his pocket so that he could call Gwen with his surprise. Instead, he found her standing there, stern hands on her hips that were belied by the excited grin threatening to break across her face and his one overstuffed duffel at her feet.
“Bugger! I wanted to surprise you.”
He threw his arms around her waist and picked her up, enjoying the loud laugh he got as he swung her around. They were both smiling broadly when he set her back on her feet.
“You were the one who gave your mother a phone capable of making international calls and then ran off to the States on a whim,” she admonished. “You have no one to blame but yourself.”
He hummed and bent to pick up the duffle. “I suppose I’ll have to concede your point. You can just be glad you didn’t get the ‘You’re making a mess of things’ talk that I got or Gaius’ ‘I can’t believe you’re endorsing this madness.’”
Gwen ‘tsk’d at him and looped an arm through the one of his that wasn’t balancing the strap of his laptop case, leading him toward the doors. “Your mother is lovely, and I won’t hear a word claiming otherwise. Now, despite the ludicrous amount of money you probably already exchanged so that you could needlessly offer to check into a hotel, Lance should have the guest room at our flat set up for you by now. And once you look a bit less like you’re dying on your feet, you’re to tell me everything, do you understand?”
He leaned over and kissed her on the cheek. “I’ve missed you.”
“I’ve missed you too, love. Come along though, we should get going. The after lunch traffic will be a nightmare and Lance has been dying to see you.”
***
It wasn’t the first time Arthur and Leon were the only ones left in the building besides the security guards and janitorial staff, and it wouldn’t be the last (no matter how many times Arthur told him to go home, Leon would always stay, perhaps out of concern that he would start sleeping in his office again).
They sat across from each other at Arthur’s desk, each with a notepad balanced on one knee. Cartons of Chinese food in varying states of emptiness littered the space between them, ignored as they separately considered the Case of the Missing (Gorgeous - Arthur’s addition) Englishman.
They’d gone over everything Arthur could remember several times to no avail, but he refused to give up. Leon had tried a couple of times to bring up what it meant that he was more invested in a ghost of a memory than the fact that he was supposed to be walking down the aisle with someone else in three days, but he was doing his best not to think about that.
He just had to try.
Leon beat a steady rhythm against his notepad with a pen. “What angle haven’t we tried already? Hope and blind faith in Google will only get us so far. You never found the book, you don’t know the name of the person he was staying with, you said he paid cash at Macy’s and Serendipity…” Arthur stared at the ceiling, trying to remember that night in as much detail as he could. As forceful as it had been, three years was still three years. “Do you remember why he was in town? You said he was staying with a friend for a couple weeks, but I don’t think you said why.”
“He was here for a wedding,” Arthur said automatically, and then his eyes widened. “Oh.”
Leon nodded, eyebrows raised in surprise and no little relief. “Huh. We might actually be able to use that.”
_
Two days before the wedding, 2010
Leon managed to reschedule him out of everything that day except for the interviews, which were just as fruitless as the first set and endlessly more frustrating. There was Val (short for Valiant, supposedly, which Arthur still doubted), who had an obvious attitude problem and a penchant for snakes, if the tattoo stretching from his wrist to his neck was any indication; there was Katrina, who…smelled, quite frankly, and opened her interview by asking if the advertised salary was negotiable; and then there was Vivian, who spent the entire interview glaring and batting her eyelashes at him in turn, and whom he was certain many of the other employees would boycott on principle as soon as she opened her mouth.
Almost as soon as she was gone, Arthur shrugged back into his suit jacket and met Leon in front of the elevator doors.
“I’ve informed your father’s assistant that you’ll be out of the office for the day, and your father had his assistant inform me that you have an interview with ‘the Emrys boy’ in the morning and that you are to keep your cell phone on at all times, no exceptions.”
He sighed. “I just hope this Emrys kid is as good as my father seems convinced he’ll be. Of course, he’d only have to be vaguely mediocre to surpass the rest of the idiots I’ve seen.”
Leon shrugged as the elevator opened and they stepped inside. “Your father sent up some examples of his graphics work, and he’s pretty good, as far as I can see. If he’s even halfway decent as a technician, he might just replace you as Employee of the Month.”
“If he’s halfway decent at either job, much less both, I’ll name him Employee of the Month myself.”
Once they were through the main lobby and on the sidewalk outside, it was only a short walk to the nearest branch of the public library. Their amazing and foolproof plan was to search the computerized back issues of the Times, locating the wedding announcements of every couple who married on January 6th, 2007 and finding them in the Yellow Pages. Eventually, one of them would have to admit to knowing a Merlin.
By the end of the day, he would have his in. He just knew it.
***
Mid-afternoon, they finally had a complete list, along with the vaguely horrifying knowledge that no less than thirty-seven couples in New York City and the surrounding areas had tied the knot that particular Saturday.
“I hate this damn city,” Arthur grumped when Leon shoved the list, as well as a very thick phone book, in front of him.
“Do you want your hot English soul mate or not? Now shut up and start looking up phone numbers.”
“I could fire you, you know.”
The way Leon snorted was really just insulting.
***
When Merlin finished telling them his entire story, Gwen and Lance just stared at him. They were crammed around the small kitchen table, cups of tea and an untouched plate of biscuits sitting between them.
“So Gaius just found you a job in the city,” Gwen marveled. “No knowledge of what happened with this Arthur bloke, he just did it.”
Merlin nodded. He couldn’t blame her; he was having trouble believing how it had all worked out too.
“And all of this happened in, what, two days?” Lance asked, incredulous. He blew out a long breath. “I have to say, dude, I don’t envy you.”
He winced. He doubted anyone would envy him parts of his story: his stomach still churned with guilt when he thought of Will’s heartbroken face.
Gwen, seeming to sense the path his thoughts had taken, cleared her throat. “So what’s the plan, then? You’re obviously going to go looking for him.”
He smiled at her. “Well, yes, I was planning on it. I figure after my interview tomorrow I can come up with a plan of attack. Do you suppose Googling ‘gorgeous rich Arthur NYC’ would work? Or should I just skip to ringing every Arthur in that bloody great phone book of yours?”
“You could always try craigslist,” Lance chuckled.
“Ooh, yes! You could say you’re ‘a warlock looking for his king!’ It’s perfect!”
“Useless, the both of you,” he said, but he was laughing. Honestly, he had no idea how he was going to go about finding Arthur, or even if he was supposed to. Maybe he just needed to wait until Fate gave him a shove.
…Nah, to hell with Fate. That fickle bitch screwed them over the first time - he wasn’t about to put it in her hands a second. An unwelcome thought struck him.
“Let’s just hope he hasn’t run off and married some bint. Just because I couldn’t doesn’t mean he couldn’t.”
Gwen frowned at him. “Don’t talk like that, you’ll make yourself mad over it. But speaking of weddings, I’m supposed to go with my friend Morgana to her brother’s this weekend. I’ve only met him once or twice, but she says she refuses to be the cliché bridesmaid who shows up with the Best Man, so she’s making me tag along. You should come with; I think you’d really like her.”
He raised an eyebrow. “I don’t think trying to turn me straight is the answer here, Gwen, but thanks.”
“I’m serious, you arse,” she said and kicked him under the table just as Lance put in, “Though, if any girl were to turn you straight, it would probably be that one.”
When Gwen leveled a glare at Lance and Lance backpedaled faster than anyone he’d ever seen, he couldn’t help but smile. For the first time in a long, long time, he felt at home.
***
They were still taking turns making phone calls from Leon’s cell when the library closed at eight that night and they were chased out.
Arthur hadn’t even realized how completely he’d been neglecting his phone until he took it out and found three text messages, seven missed calls, and five voicemails. And it wasn’t until he opened the first text, from Morgana, that read, “WHERE THE FUCK ARE YOU?” that he realized something else: he’d completely missed his wedding rehearsal.
He didn’t play the voicemails. Of the seven missed calls, four were Sophia, two were Morgana, and one was his father, so he could easily predict what they said. A wedding rehearsal, scheduled a day earlier than usual to accommodate the lives of everyone who wanted to attend, and it had been missing a groom and his best man.
“Oh God, Leon.” He’d frozen dead in his tracks and Leon came back to join him, peering at the message over his shoulder.
“Shit,” Leon breathed. Then, “fucking shit. We completely just skipped your rehearsal, Arthur. Arthur.”
“I know, okay? I know.”
Leon threw his hands up, exasperated. “You don’t know. That’s the fucking point. You aren’t supposed to just forget your wedding rehearsal with a woman you love because you’re scouring ghosts of Christmas past for a guy you knew for a few hours three years ago. That’s not how it goes.”
And Arthur knew that. He knew all of that. They were the things he’d been trying to ignore all week, even before Sophia found the scarf. Every time he wondered why he didn’t think too much about what Sophia could possibly be doing as he worked away the hours and days before their wedding. Every time he walked into his apartment and thought about how he dreaded leaving it and finding a place for the both of them. Every time he thought about long wiry limbs, short dark hair, and blue eyes before he went to sleep at night. He knew.
And it wasn’t fair. It wasn’t fair to her, that he’d brought her along for nearly four years when he couldn’t love her the way she wanted to be; that he’d missed their rehearsal; that he’d let it get to the point where there was a rehearsal for him to miss. It wasn’t fair to him, that he’d settled; that he hadn’t been willing to let go of what he had just because he learned it would never be enough. It wasn’t fair to Merlin, wherever he was, that he’d almost stopped trying when he never should have.
“You’re right,” he finally said, meeting Leon’s unhappy eyes. “Of course you’re right. I’ll fix it. Right now.”
He turned around, walking back the way he came. It was a few blocks, but he could use the time to think.
Unfortunately, the walk didn’t take nearly as long as he’d like, so by the time he was standing in Sophia’s doorway, taking in her puffy eyes and undone hair, he still had no idea what he was going to say.
“We need to talk.”
***
It was barely a minute after he closed the door to his apartment that the frantic knocking started.
He thought about ignoring it, wanted to so badly, his cheek still throbbing where it’d been slapped and his head on the verge of a migraine, but then Morgana’s voice reached him, saying “I know you’re there, don’t think you can ignore me,” and he knew she wouldn’t stop until he opened the door or she woke up the whole building.
So he pulled the door open and stepped back without a word, allowing her and her displeased scowl inside.
“Where the hell have you been, Arthur?” she demanded. “It’s been hours, and none of us knew anything! You weren’t answering your phone, Leon’s was always either busy or went to voicemail. Father and I were worried. Not to mention your fiancée.”
“I know, Morgana.”
“She cried on me, Arthur. You made her cry on me,” she said, then stopped, focusing on his cheek. She raised a hand gingerly to touch it, and he flinched away. “Though I suppose you’ve already experienced versions of that first hand tonight.”
“I took care of it. The wedding’s off.”
She sighed and dropped her hand. “I suppose that’s a relief. I won’t have to spend the rest of your life telling you what a terrible mistake you made.”
He huffed a sort of laugh, shaking his head. “Glad to save you the trouble. Now, if you don’t mind, I’d really like to just lie down.”
“Oh no, you’re not getting off that easily,” she said, hands on her hips. “I still want to know where you were. If it was enough for you to ignore your phone and forget your wedding rehearsal, it must be juicy.”
He crinkled his nose at the word choice, but told her the whole story anyway, starting with the night three years ago when he fell for a stranger and ending with that day’s failed attempts to find anyone, anyone at all, who knew a Merlin.
That was when Morgana gave him the piece of information he’d been looking for all day, as well as a piece of information he could have gone forever not knowing.
“That was the weekend Gwen got married, wasn’t it? I think she has a friend named Merlin.” She paused and stared at him, wide-eyed. “You were supposed to go with me to that, do you remember?"
-
The day after Arthur cancelled the wedding (The day before Sophia goes on their honeymoon by herself), 2010
It took a long while of listening to Morgana wax poetic on the artistry of karma and quite a lot of begging, but with the help of her inner romantic, he eventually won out. She wrote Gwen’s address out for him, and shook her head when he started to protest.
“This isn’t the sort of thing you do over the phone, Arthur,” she said, with a certain gleam in her eye that he didn’t want to read too much into when it was going on two in the morning.
He stared at the paper for a long time after she left, slowly realizing that yes, this might actually, finally be his chance. And with all the giddiness and anxiety thrumming through his veins at that idea, he thought he’d never be able to sleep.
However, he tipped himself over onto his bed, still fully dressed, and a few minutes later the world drifted away.
***
Arthur woke up to the harsh ‘ding’ of his phone informing him that he had a text message.
It was from his father. Emrys interview this morning. Try to show up to this one.
He groaned and rolled over, suddenly hideously uncomfortable. He knew without looking down that his shirt and pants were hopelessly crinkled, and one of his shoes had come off during the night.
It took him a second to remember why he’d slept in his clothes, but the strange crackle of paper when he moved his hand had it all flooding back to him and he sat straight up. A glance at the clock told him he had an hour before his interview started, which wasn’t nearly enough time to get to Gwen’s, explain himself, and get back to the office, but he couldn’t wait any longer.
Shooting off a quick text message to Leon (May have the answers. Will be a bit late. Apologize to Emrys for the inconvenience.), he changed into another suit as quickly as he could and dashed out the door.
***
Merlin was awakened that morning by a hand shoving him unceremoniously off the bed and then offering him a cup of tea.
“You’re going to be late if you lay about much longer,” Gwen’s voice informed him, and he groaned into the pile of blanket he’d dragged down with him.
“That was completely unnecessary. I was just getting up, really!” He shoved himself to his feet to prove this (completely false) point and immediately toppled back to the bed, legs tangled in the sheets. Gwen snorted and walked out of the room, his tea still in her hand.
When he finally managed to extract himself and follow, she was sat at the kitchen table, one mug in her hand and another waiting for him next to a plate piled with toast and jam.
“I should really have fought Lance harder for you,” he said, cramming a toast triangle into his mouth whole.
She rolled her eyes. “Sorry, love, I require sex, which means someone who’s not completely terrified of my vagina.” He harrumphed. “Now, do you want me to call you a cab?”
He turned his head to catch the time on the microwave and started, jogging the few steps back into the guest room. “No, I think I’ll take the underground,” he said, voice muffled as he dug through his bag for a button-down and the one pair of dress trousers he owned. He really needed to go shopping.
He was dressed, his teeth brushed and hair flattened in record time. Ducking through the kitchen to kiss Gwen on the cheek, he ran for the door, shouting “Wish me luck, I love you, bye!” as he pulled it closed behind him.
***
When Arthur pressed the button for Gwen’s apartment, he was buzzed inside without question. Surprised, he walked up and had barely knocked once when the door flung open to reveal Gwen in a fluffy blue bath robe.
“What could you possibly have forgo--” she started, freezing when she realized who was standing in the doorway. “Oh. Er, hi, sorry about that. Thought you’d be someone else.” She pulled the robe tighter around her body, flushing slightly. “Would you like to come in?”
He shoved his hands in his pockets to stop himself fiddling with his shirt cuffs like a child. “Um, if that would be okay? I just need to ask you about something.”
“Of course!” She stepped back to let him step inside and closed the door softly behind him. “Do you want some tea? There’s some toast in here if you haven’t eaten,” she said, bustling nervously toward where he presumed the kitchen must be. “I’m very sorry about your wedding. Morgana called me last night and said it was probably going to be cancelled.”
“I’m fine,” he assured, falling into step behind her. “About everything. Really.” She ushered him into a seat at the small table and poured him some tea anyway.
“Now, what can I do for you?” she asked, once she was sitting across from him.
He cleared his throat, unsure where to start. He spun the tea cup around with his fingers. “This is going to sound strange, but I just need to ask. Do you know somebody named Merlin?”
Her eyebrows shot up, an effective answer to his question, and he nearly shouted in relief. Morgana had been right! He was finally getting closer!
The look in Gwen’s eyes turned from surprise to, strangely, worry, and finally landed on a sort of comprehension. Her mouth formed a small ‘o.’ “Oh my God,” she said. “Oh Christ. It’s you! You’re Arthur!”
Something warm and happy unfurled in his stomach. “He remembers me?”
She grinned at him, wide and amazed, and for a moment he thought she might start clapping. He understood the impulse. “Are you joking? Oh God, of course he remembers you.”
She jumped out of her seat to grab her purse and began digging through it. “I was just wondering if you could give me some way to get in touch with him. I mean, I know it’s been three years and an ocean is a lot to overcome, distance wise, but-“
“Ha!” she said triumphantly, pulling out her cell phone. “Arthur, he’s in the city right now for an interview. He just got here yesterday afternoon; he lives here now.”
Arthur opened his mouth, unsure just what to say or if he even remembered how to talk in his daze, but was saved when his cell phone rang.
***
Once he figured out which stop he was supposed to get off on, Merlin found the building for Penn Inc. (the best name for a publishing company ever, in his opinion) easily enough.
The information Gaius gave him said that he was to report to the 30th floor, where the owner’s son’s office was located, for the interview. The security guards in the main lobby let him through easily at the mention of his name, pointing him toward the shiny doors of a lift. When he stepped onto it, he hesitated a moment before pressing the 30 button.
He wasn’t nervous, per say - according to Gaius all he had to really do to get this job was show up - but something about the building made him thrum with energy. As the floors ticked by, his fingers beat an uneven rhythm against his thigh.
The only person waiting for him on Floor 30 was a scruffy-looking bloke whose nameplate proclaimed him Leon Knightly, Personal Assistant to A. Penn. When Merlin walked in, he was hovering over the coffee machine, and it looked like he was trying to coax it into working faster.
“Um, hello?” he ventured.
“Yes, how can I help you?” Leon barely turned around, his eyes never leaving the pot.
“Er, I’m here for the interview? With Mr. Penn?” His eyes wandered to a large wooden door that was firmly shut. He couldn’t see a light on underneath.
Leon finally turned, giving up on the coffee for the moment. “Right. Of course, you’re Mr. Emrys.”
When Leon was back at his desk, Merlin held out a hand. “You can call me Merlin.”
Leon’s eyes widened, and for a moment Merlin expected there to be one of those “like the wizard?” comments, but he didn’t say anything. After much too long a pause, Leon shook his hand and said, a strange note to his voice, “Nice to meet you, Merlin.”
“Likewise.” Feeling suddenly awkward, Merlin shoved his hands in his pocket. “So, er, is Mr. Penn ready for me?”
The reminder seemed to kick Leon back in gear, because he turned, reaching for the phone on his desk. “He’s actually running a bit late, but I’ll call him and let him know you’re here, okay?” And with one last strange look at Merlin, he started dialing.
***
Arthur glanced at the screen of his BlackBerry and answered on the second ring. “Yes, Leon?”
“Sir,” Leon’s tinny voice said through the speaker, “your nine-o-clock’s here. A Mr. Merlin Emrys.”
“Merlin?” he repeated, and he shared a shocked look with Gwen. “Tall, lanky guy, black hair, completely gorgeous?”
“That’s the one, Sir.”
Arthur let out a long gust of air that became a laugh halfway through. Of course it would be that simple now. God, Fate was a bitch.
“I’m on my way. And for fuck’s sake, don’t let him leave.”
After he hung up, he stared wordlessly at Gwen for a moment until she reached out, grabbed his shoulders, and shook him a bit. “Go.”
***
“I could come back later,” Merlin offered ten minutes into his wait, but Leon looked so stricken when he said no that Merlin didn’t dare bring it up again.
***
Arthur was in such a state by the time he got to Penn Inc. that he didn’t even wait to hear how much the fare was, just threw too much money through the open window and ran inside, past the confused security guards and straight into the elevator.
It took much longer than usual to get to his floor, of course, several stops along the way impeding his progress. He nearly murdered the woman who got on at 13 and back off at 15.
When the door finally let out a ‘ding!’ and opened to his floor, his pulse was racing and his mind soared. He hadn’t felt this good in years - possibly since Merlin had stepped close that first time to wrap the scarf around his neck.
The first thing he saw when he rounded the corner was Merlin. He was leaned back in a chair, long legs stretched out in front of him and his hands in his pockets, thumbs rubbing along the fabric of his pants. It was quite possibly the best thing Arthur had ever seen.
An assessment that was promptly proven wrong when Merlin looked up, saw him, and froze, his mouth dropping open.
Arthur was grinning so hard it probably should have hurt.
Merlin got up and walked toward him, almost hesitant, but a brilliant grin was unfurling on his lips as well. “Arthur Penn,” he said, like he should have known all along that it would happen this way.
“Merlin Emrys,” Arthur returned, and if it came out more breathless than suave, only Leon was there to notice.
Before he could talk himself out of it, Arthur leaned forward into Merlin’s space and, after a moment to allow him to pull away if he wanted to, pressed their lips together.
Merlin’s hands came up to bracket his face instantly, strong fingers on his jaw and at his nape. He let his arms slip around Merlin’s waist, pulling him as close as he could, and ran his tongue along Merlin’s bottom lip.
Merlin let out a low, rumbling groan and licked into Arthur’s mouth, tilting his head and shifting impossibly closer. Arthur’s hands had just started drifting toward the ass of Merlin’s pants when Leon cleared his throat loudly.
“You’ve got an office. Use it.”
Arthur pulled back, though admittedly not very much, and huffed a breathless laugh. He grasped one of Merlin’s hands and began pulling him toward his office door. Merlin laughed too, and stuttered an awkward apology as they passed.
“I’ll tell your father Merlin has the job, then?” Leon asked, an amused smirk on his face.
“Good man.”
Epilogue
Christmas Eve, 2010
Gwen insisted that it was her idea they all gather at Morgana’s for Christmas that year, but Arthur thought it reeked of Morgana and Leon’s influence. Especially when Morgana’s assistant Helen showed up, begging to be regaled with the story of Arthur and Merlin’s Time-Transcendent True Love.
“We are not calling it that.” Arthur glowered at his sister over the top of his eggnog. “You did this on purpose.”
Morgana put a hand to her chest in an ineffective plea of innocence. “Your suspicion wounds me. It’s not my fault the girl’s curious.”
He looked at Helen, who seemed more amused than anything. “Didn’t any of your teachers tell you not to give in to peer pressure? She is the one they were warning you about.”
“Come on, Arthur,” Merlin called from behind him, where he was going through Morgana’s books. She had a surprising amount, bookshelves spanning two walls, and Merlin had been wanting to go through them for months. “She’s going to make us do this every year. She gave us an anniversary gift. You may as well get used to it.”
Morgana grinned, a promise of how true that statement was, and Arthur rolled his eyes. “Fine, fine. What would you like to know, Helen?”
Gwen clapped excitedly and ran over to join them, settling next to Morgana on the couch. Lance and Leon, who’d taken to each other quite well, looked over briefly and then kept talking.
Helen smiled. “Was it love at first sight?”
“Um,” Arthur laughed, “give or take five minutes.” Merlin let out a loud snort.
“He doesn’t give the best first impressions, my Arthur. He’s a bit of an arse, really.”
“You hijacked my cab! I had the right.” Merlin hummed indulgently and grinned over his shoulder when Arthur huffed. “Okay, next question.”
“What did you do when you saw each other again after all that time had passed?” This time it was Leon who snorted.
“You coached her into this,” Arthur accused, glaring over at him.
“By which he means they made out in his office like teenagers until Uther came down to meet his new employee.” Leon smirked.
“Which also answers the question of how I met the parent,” Merlin said. “He gave Arthur a talk about sexual harassment lawsuits and offered me a raise. I hadn’t even started working yet.”
“Next,” Arthur said. Gwen and Leon were both shaking with mirth at this point and Morgana’s lips were twitching like she really wanted to comment.
Helen was giggling now too, and it was obvious she already knew most of the story because next she asked, “Did you ever stop looking for him? The book, with his name in it?”
His face softened. “Never. I went into at least one every single day, even when I barely let myself think about him. I never found it, though. I’m not really sure what I would have done if I had. Hopped on a plane to England and started digging through phone books, probably.”
“Arthur,” Merlin said tentatively.
“What? It could have worked, admit it.”
“No seriously, Arthur.” He turned around and Merlin was holding up a book. An old, slightly battered hardback copy of Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy. He flipped it open to page forty-two and presented it to the group. In the margin was a scribbled Merlin Emrys, followed by ten digits.
To everyone’s surprise, it was Helen who spoke up. “I remember that! I got that for your Christmas present one year. I’d read it and I thought you’d like it, so I found you a first edition. Wow, that was…2006, I think?”
The whole group stared wide-eyed between her and the book for a long moment, disbelieving. Then Lance laughed.
“So it’s been one floor up this whole time?” he asked. Even Morgana’s mouth had dropped open in shock and she raised her hands in vague, if genuine apology. Arthur shook his head; it certainly wasn’t her fault. He couldn’t even blame Helen.
“God, fate is such a bitch.”
Three days before the wedding, 2010
The first round of interviews went about as well as Arthur expected them to.
Morris was nice enough and Arthur thought, if pressed, he could probably work Paint or an uncomplicated word processor, but not much beyond that.
(“How much of this résumé is actually true, Morris?”
“Well…my name really is Morris, sir.”
“Right. Very good. Thank you for coming in, Morris.”)
Mordred was significantly more skilled, and probably would have been a good candidate if he were less unnerving. He spent the entire interview glaring at Arthur across the desk like he’d been personally offended and was plotting violent revenge.
(“How did that one go?” Leon asked, once he was gone.
“I’ll let you know when I get the image of him massacring everyone with a shotgun out of my head.”)
And Cedric was probably the biggest kiss-ass he’d ever met. Arthur contemplated, at one point during the interview, whether he would continue to blindly agree with everything Arthur said if Arthur told him he looked a bit like a rat. He didn’t try it and find out, but it was a near thing.
After Cedric had gone, Leon came into his office with a cup of coffee and an aspirin. “I’m nominating you for sainthood,” he said, once he’d swallowed the pill and half of the coffee.
“Don’t bother. You’d just make me do the paperwork.”
He pillowed his head on the hard wood of his desk. “I have my first meeting with John Drake this afternoon. Can you stay late tonight?”
“I dug out the Chinese takeaway menus first thing this morning.”
“Good man.”
***
Merlin didn’t pack much, just the essentials: his laptop and charger, his toothbrush, and whatever clothes he had crammed into his wardrobe.
He’d delighted his uncle Gaius with a gasped “Yes, okay” once he’d picked himself up from the floor, then spent the next eighteen hours figuring out how quickly he could orchestrate an International move.
He spent more of it than he would have liked on the phone with his mother, explaining what had happened with Will, assuring her that he hadn’t just made the biggest mistake of his life, and finally diverting her attention with an exclamation of “Gaius got me a job in New York!” after which she demanded to speak to Gaius and, well, the speaker on his mobile had always been very good.
Otherwise, it was a surprisingly simple (if frantic) process. His flat was much too small for any clutter, and what few possessions he did have could easily be posted to him later; he didn’t have to form any messy goodbyes (he didn’t call Will - even if he hadn’t been hung up on, saying ‘I’m leaving the country’ right after ‘No, I can’t marry you’ seemed a bit like adding insult to injury) because the only friends he talked to on a regular basis would be waiting for him when he got there; Gaius assured him that his to-be employer was taking care of his work visa; and he solved the money dilemma as best he could by going to a few of the ATMs nearby and pulling enough from his account to cover him for a few days, until Gaius could wire the rest to Gwen.
And while he knew he should have been more worried, battling with the what-ifs and what-do-I-dos, considering the long-term implications of life in another country, he just couldn’t bring himself to move beyond his excitement.
Gaius drove him to the airport that morning for his 11 a.m. flight and hugged him goodbye at the gate. Merlin told him ‘thank you’ a dozen times and ‘I love you’ half a dozen times more, until his uncle shoved him in the direction of the gate and told him, amused and affectionate, “Oh, get on with it.”
But the best part of it was, when he was settled into his seat with his laptop case in the compartment overhead, the stranger in the seat next to his pulled a copy of Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy out of his bag and tucked it under his chin. Merlin smiled a private smile out the open window and knew, once and for all, that this was exactly where he was supposed to be.
***
John Drake was…well. He was just as insane as Arthur’s father had said he was.
“Destiny has great things in store for you, my young Mr. Penn,” he said, when Arthur had spent nearly ten minutes unsuccessfully trying to get him to discuss his book.
Arthur took a deep breath and hoped that humoring the man would get them on track faster. He and Leon had a cute Englishman to find. “Is that so?”
“Indeed,” Drake smiled. “Much like your legendary counterpart, you need only find your Merlin. Only then will your heart be complete.”
Arthur gaped at him for a long moment. “How did you-“ he started, and then tried again, “Don’t you mean I should find my Guinevere? She was King Arthur’s great love, wasn’t she?”
Drake shrugged, but he was still smiling in that same vague, now rather unsettling way. “I suppose it depends on which version of the legends you believe.” With that pronouncement he made to stand, leaving Arthur gaping at him again.
“Mr. Drake! We haven’t discussed business yet. Where are you going?”
“I believe we’ve said quite enough for today, don’t you?” He picked up the case that had been left unopened on the floor by his feet. “There will be other meetings for everything else. Have your charming assistant out there set it up.”
Arthur blinked a couple times, disbelieving. “Yes, of course.”
Drake was almost at the door when he turned around and looked straight at Arthur. “Your father tells me you’re getting married this weekend. I suppose I should be offering my congratulations?” The expression in his eyes was almost disapproving and it, like most things about this man, took him by surprise.
Eventually Arthur stammered out, “Right. Thank you, Mr. Drake,” and then Drake was gone, Arthur staring bemusedly after him.
***
When he got through the many levels of security John F. Kennedy Airport had to offer its international travelers (as much as he loved Gwen and Lance, there was a reason he didn’t visit them more), Merlin stumbled exhaustedly toward the baggage claim, and fumbled his phone from his pocket so that he could call Gwen with his surprise. Instead, he found her standing there, stern hands on her hips that were belied by the excited grin threatening to break across her face and his one overstuffed duffel at her feet.
“Bugger! I wanted to surprise you.”
He threw his arms around her waist and picked her up, enjoying the loud laugh he got as he swung her around. They were both smiling broadly when he set her back on her feet.
“You were the one who gave your mother a phone capable of making international calls and then ran off to the States on a whim,” she admonished. “You have no one to blame but yourself.”
He hummed and bent to pick up the duffle. “I suppose I’ll have to concede your point. You can just be glad you didn’t get the ‘You’re making a mess of things’ talk that I got or Gaius’ ‘I can’t believe you’re endorsing this madness.’”
Gwen ‘tsk’d at him and looped an arm through the one of his that wasn’t balancing the strap of his laptop case, leading him toward the doors. “Your mother is lovely, and I won’t hear a word claiming otherwise. Now, despite the ludicrous amount of money you probably already exchanged so that you could needlessly offer to check into a hotel, Lance should have the guest room at our flat set up for you by now. And once you look a bit less like you’re dying on your feet, you’re to tell me everything, do you understand?”
He leaned over and kissed her on the cheek. “I’ve missed you.”
“I’ve missed you too, love. Come along though, we should get going. The after lunch traffic will be a nightmare and Lance has been dying to see you.”
***
It wasn’t the first time Arthur and Leon were the only ones left in the building besides the security guards and janitorial staff, and it wouldn’t be the last (no matter how many times Arthur told him to go home, Leon would always stay, perhaps out of concern that he would start sleeping in his office again).
They sat across from each other at Arthur’s desk, each with a notepad balanced on one knee. Cartons of Chinese food in varying states of emptiness littered the space between them, ignored as they separately considered the Case of the Missing (Gorgeous - Arthur’s addition) Englishman.
They’d gone over everything Arthur could remember several times to no avail, but he refused to give up. Leon had tried a couple of times to bring up what it meant that he was more invested in a ghost of a memory than the fact that he was supposed to be walking down the aisle with someone else in three days, but he was doing his best not to think about that.
He just had to try.
Leon beat a steady rhythm against his notepad with a pen. “What angle haven’t we tried already? Hope and blind faith in Google will only get us so far. You never found the book, you don’t know the name of the person he was staying with, you said he paid cash at Macy’s and Serendipity…” Arthur stared at the ceiling, trying to remember that night in as much detail as he could. As forceful as it had been, three years was still three years. “Do you remember why he was in town? You said he was staying with a friend for a couple weeks, but I don’t think you said why.”
“He was here for a wedding,” Arthur said automatically, and then his eyes widened. “Oh.”
Leon nodded, eyebrows raised in surprise and no little relief. “Huh. We might actually be able to use that.”
_
Two days before the wedding, 2010
Leon managed to reschedule him out of everything that day except for the interviews, which were just as fruitless as the first set and endlessly more frustrating. There was Val (short for Valiant, supposedly, which Arthur still doubted), who had an obvious attitude problem and a penchant for snakes, if the tattoo stretching from his wrist to his neck was any indication; there was Katrina, who…smelled, quite frankly, and opened her interview by asking if the advertised salary was negotiable; and then there was Vivian, who spent the entire interview glaring and batting her eyelashes at him in turn, and whom he was certain many of the other employees would boycott on principle as soon as she opened her mouth.
Almost as soon as she was gone, Arthur shrugged back into his suit jacket and met Leon in front of the elevator doors.
“I’ve informed your father’s assistant that you’ll be out of the office for the day, and your father had his assistant inform me that you have an interview with ‘the Emrys boy’ in the morning and that you are to keep your cell phone on at all times, no exceptions.”
He sighed. “I just hope this Emrys kid is as good as my father seems convinced he’ll be. Of course, he’d only have to be vaguely mediocre to surpass the rest of the idiots I’ve seen.”
Leon shrugged as the elevator opened and they stepped inside. “Your father sent up some examples of his graphics work, and he’s pretty good, as far as I can see. If he’s even halfway decent as a technician, he might just replace you as Employee of the Month.”
“If he’s halfway decent at either job, much less both, I’ll name him Employee of the Month myself.”
Once they were through the main lobby and on the sidewalk outside, it was only a short walk to the nearest branch of the public library. Their amazing and foolproof plan was to search the computerized back issues of the Times, locating the wedding announcements of every couple who married on January 6th, 2007 and finding them in the Yellow Pages. Eventually, one of them would have to admit to knowing a Merlin.
By the end of the day, he would have his in. He just knew it.
***
Mid-afternoon, they finally had a complete list, along with the vaguely horrifying knowledge that no less than thirty-seven couples in New York City and the surrounding areas had tied the knot that particular Saturday.
“I hate this damn city,” Arthur grumped when Leon shoved the list, as well as a very thick phone book, in front of him.
“Do you want your hot English soul mate or not? Now shut up and start looking up phone numbers.”
“I could fire you, you know.”
The way Leon snorted was really just insulting.
***
When Merlin finished telling them his entire story, Gwen and Lance just stared at him. They were crammed around the small kitchen table, cups of tea and an untouched plate of biscuits sitting between them.
“So Gaius just found you a job in the city,” Gwen marveled. “No knowledge of what happened with this Arthur bloke, he just did it.”
Merlin nodded. He couldn’t blame her; he was having trouble believing how it had all worked out too.
“And all of this happened in, what, two days?” Lance asked, incredulous. He blew out a long breath. “I have to say, dude, I don’t envy you.”
He winced. He doubted anyone would envy him parts of his story: his stomach still churned with guilt when he thought of Will’s heartbroken face.
Gwen, seeming to sense the path his thoughts had taken, cleared her throat. “So what’s the plan, then? You’re obviously going to go looking for him.”
He smiled at her. “Well, yes, I was planning on it. I figure after my interview tomorrow I can come up with a plan of attack. Do you suppose Googling ‘gorgeous rich Arthur NYC’ would work? Or should I just skip to ringing every Arthur in that bloody great phone book of yours?”
“You could always try craigslist,” Lance chuckled.
“Ooh, yes! You could say you’re ‘a warlock looking for his king!’ It’s perfect!”
“Useless, the both of you,” he said, but he was laughing. Honestly, he had no idea how he was going to go about finding Arthur, or even if he was supposed to. Maybe he just needed to wait until Fate gave him a shove.
…Nah, to hell with Fate. That fickle bitch screwed them over the first time - he wasn’t about to put it in her hands a second. An unwelcome thought struck him.
“Let’s just hope he hasn’t run off and married some bint. Just because I couldn’t doesn’t mean he couldn’t.”
Gwen frowned at him. “Don’t talk like that, you’ll make yourself mad over it. But speaking of weddings, I’m supposed to go with my friend Morgana to her brother’s this weekend. I’ve only met him once or twice, but she says she refuses to be the cliché bridesmaid who shows up with the Best Man, so she’s making me tag along. You should come with; I think you’d really like her.”
He raised an eyebrow. “I don’t think trying to turn me straight is the answer here, Gwen, but thanks.”
“I’m serious, you arse,” she said and kicked him under the table just as Lance put in, “Though, if any girl were to turn you straight, it would probably be that one.”
When Gwen leveled a glare at Lance and Lance backpedaled faster than anyone he’d ever seen, he couldn’t help but smile. For the first time in a long, long time, he felt at home.
***
They were still taking turns making phone calls from Leon’s cell when the library closed at eight that night and they were chased out.
Arthur hadn’t even realized how completely he’d been neglecting his phone until he took it out and found three text messages, seven missed calls, and five voicemails. And it wasn’t until he opened the first text, from Morgana, that read, “WHERE THE FUCK ARE YOU?” that he realized something else: he’d completely missed his wedding rehearsal.
He didn’t play the voicemails. Of the seven missed calls, four were Sophia, two were Morgana, and one was his father, so he could easily predict what they said. A wedding rehearsal, scheduled a day earlier than usual to accommodate the lives of everyone who wanted to attend, and it had been missing a groom and his best man.
“Oh God, Leon.” He’d frozen dead in his tracks and Leon came back to join him, peering at the message over his shoulder.
“Shit,” Leon breathed. Then, “fucking shit. We completely just skipped your rehearsal, Arthur. Arthur.”
“I know, okay? I know.”
Leon threw his hands up, exasperated. “You don’t know. That’s the fucking point. You aren’t supposed to just forget your wedding rehearsal with a woman you love because you’re scouring ghosts of Christmas past for a guy you knew for a few hours three years ago. That’s not how it goes.”
And Arthur knew that. He knew all of that. They were the things he’d been trying to ignore all week, even before Sophia found the scarf. Every time he wondered why he didn’t think too much about what Sophia could possibly be doing as he worked away the hours and days before their wedding. Every time he walked into his apartment and thought about how he dreaded leaving it and finding a place for the both of them. Every time he thought about long wiry limbs, short dark hair, and blue eyes before he went to sleep at night. He knew.
And it wasn’t fair. It wasn’t fair to her, that he’d brought her along for nearly four years when he couldn’t love her the way she wanted to be; that he’d missed their rehearsal; that he’d let it get to the point where there was a rehearsal for him to miss. It wasn’t fair to him, that he’d settled; that he hadn’t been willing to let go of what he had just because he learned it would never be enough. It wasn’t fair to Merlin, wherever he was, that he’d almost stopped trying when he never should have.
“You’re right,” he finally said, meeting Leon’s unhappy eyes. “Of course you’re right. I’ll fix it. Right now.”
He turned around, walking back the way he came. It was a few blocks, but he could use the time to think.
Unfortunately, the walk didn’t take nearly as long as he’d like, so by the time he was standing in Sophia’s doorway, taking in her puffy eyes and undone hair, he still had no idea what he was going to say.
“We need to talk.”
***
It was barely a minute after he closed the door to his apartment that the frantic knocking started.
He thought about ignoring it, wanted to so badly, his cheek still throbbing where it’d been slapped and his head on the verge of a migraine, but then Morgana’s voice reached him, saying “I know you’re there, don’t think you can ignore me,” and he knew she wouldn’t stop until he opened the door or she woke up the whole building.
So he pulled the door open and stepped back without a word, allowing her and her displeased scowl inside.
“Where the hell have you been, Arthur?” she demanded. “It’s been hours, and none of us knew anything! You weren’t answering your phone, Leon’s was always either busy or went to voicemail. Father and I were worried. Not to mention your fiancée.”
“I know, Morgana.”
“She cried on me, Arthur. You made her cry on me,” she said, then stopped, focusing on his cheek. She raised a hand gingerly to touch it, and he flinched away. “Though I suppose you’ve already experienced versions of that first hand tonight.”
“I took care of it. The wedding’s off.”
She sighed and dropped her hand. “I suppose that’s a relief. I won’t have to spend the rest of your life telling you what a terrible mistake you made.”
He huffed a sort of laugh, shaking his head. “Glad to save you the trouble. Now, if you don’t mind, I’d really like to just lie down.”
“Oh no, you’re not getting off that easily,” she said, hands on her hips. “I still want to know where you were. If it was enough for you to ignore your phone and forget your wedding rehearsal, it must be juicy.”
He crinkled his nose at the word choice, but told her the whole story anyway, starting with the night three years ago when he fell for a stranger and ending with that day’s failed attempts to find anyone, anyone at all, who knew a Merlin.
That was when Morgana gave him the piece of information he’d been looking for all day, as well as a piece of information he could have gone forever not knowing.
“That was the weekend Gwen got married, wasn’t it? I think she has a friend named Merlin.” She paused and stared at him, wide-eyed. “You were supposed to go with me to that, do you remember?"
-
The day after Arthur cancelled the wedding (The day before Sophia goes on their honeymoon by herself), 2010
It took a long while of listening to Morgana wax poetic on the artistry of karma and quite a lot of begging, but with the help of her inner romantic, he eventually won out. She wrote Gwen’s address out for him, and shook her head when he started to protest.
“This isn’t the sort of thing you do over the phone, Arthur,” she said, with a certain gleam in her eye that he didn’t want to read too much into when it was going on two in the morning.
He stared at the paper for a long time after she left, slowly realizing that yes, this might actually, finally be his chance. And with all the giddiness and anxiety thrumming through his veins at that idea, he thought he’d never be able to sleep.
However, he tipped himself over onto his bed, still fully dressed, and a few minutes later the world drifted away.
***
Arthur woke up to the harsh ‘ding’ of his phone informing him that he had a text message.
It was from his father. Emrys interview this morning. Try to show up to this one.
He groaned and rolled over, suddenly hideously uncomfortable. He knew without looking down that his shirt and pants were hopelessly crinkled, and one of his shoes had come off during the night.
It took him a second to remember why he’d slept in his clothes, but the strange crackle of paper when he moved his hand had it all flooding back to him and he sat straight up. A glance at the clock told him he had an hour before his interview started, which wasn’t nearly enough time to get to Gwen’s, explain himself, and get back to the office, but he couldn’t wait any longer.
Shooting off a quick text message to Leon (May have the answers. Will be a bit late. Apologize to Emrys for the inconvenience.), he changed into another suit as quickly as he could and dashed out the door.
***
Merlin was awakened that morning by a hand shoving him unceremoniously off the bed and then offering him a cup of tea.
“You’re going to be late if you lay about much longer,” Gwen’s voice informed him, and he groaned into the pile of blanket he’d dragged down with him.
“That was completely unnecessary. I was just getting up, really!” He shoved himself to his feet to prove this (completely false) point and immediately toppled back to the bed, legs tangled in the sheets. Gwen snorted and walked out of the room, his tea still in her hand.
When he finally managed to extract himself and follow, she was sat at the kitchen table, one mug in her hand and another waiting for him next to a plate piled with toast and jam.
“I should really have fought Lance harder for you,” he said, cramming a toast triangle into his mouth whole.
She rolled her eyes. “Sorry, love, I require sex, which means someone who’s not completely terrified of my vagina.” He harrumphed. “Now, do you want me to call you a cab?”
He turned his head to catch the time on the microwave and started, jogging the few steps back into the guest room. “No, I think I’ll take the underground,” he said, voice muffled as he dug through his bag for a button-down and the one pair of dress trousers he owned. He really needed to go shopping.
He was dressed, his teeth brushed and hair flattened in record time. Ducking through the kitchen to kiss Gwen on the cheek, he ran for the door, shouting “Wish me luck, I love you, bye!” as he pulled it closed behind him.
***
When Arthur pressed the button for Gwen’s apartment, he was buzzed inside without question. Surprised, he walked up and had barely knocked once when the door flung open to reveal Gwen in a fluffy blue bath robe.
“What could you possibly have forgo--” she started, freezing when she realized who was standing in the doorway. “Oh. Er, hi, sorry about that. Thought you’d be someone else.” She pulled the robe tighter around her body, flushing slightly. “Would you like to come in?”
He shoved his hands in his pockets to stop himself fiddling with his shirt cuffs like a child. “Um, if that would be okay? I just need to ask you about something.”
“Of course!” She stepped back to let him step inside and closed the door softly behind him. “Do you want some tea? There’s some toast in here if you haven’t eaten,” she said, bustling nervously toward where he presumed the kitchen must be. “I’m very sorry about your wedding. Morgana called me last night and said it was probably going to be cancelled.”
“I’m fine,” he assured, falling into step behind her. “About everything. Really.” She ushered him into a seat at the small table and poured him some tea anyway.
“Now, what can I do for you?” she asked, once she was sitting across from him.
He cleared his throat, unsure where to start. He spun the tea cup around with his fingers. “This is going to sound strange, but I just need to ask. Do you know somebody named Merlin?”
Her eyebrows shot up, an effective answer to his question, and he nearly shouted in relief. Morgana had been right! He was finally getting closer!
The look in Gwen’s eyes turned from surprise to, strangely, worry, and finally landed on a sort of comprehension. Her mouth formed a small ‘o.’ “Oh my God,” she said. “Oh Christ. It’s you! You’re Arthur!”
Something warm and happy unfurled in his stomach. “He remembers me?”
She grinned at him, wide and amazed, and for a moment he thought she might start clapping. He understood the impulse. “Are you joking? Oh God, of course he remembers you.”
She jumped out of her seat to grab her purse and began digging through it. “I was just wondering if you could give me some way to get in touch with him. I mean, I know it’s been three years and an ocean is a lot to overcome, distance wise, but-“
“Ha!” she said triumphantly, pulling out her cell phone. “Arthur, he’s in the city right now for an interview. He just got here yesterday afternoon; he lives here now.”
Arthur opened his mouth, unsure just what to say or if he even remembered how to talk in his daze, but was saved when his cell phone rang.
***
Once he figured out which stop he was supposed to get off on, Merlin found the building for Penn Inc. (the best name for a publishing company ever, in his opinion) easily enough.
The information Gaius gave him said that he was to report to the 30th floor, where the owner’s son’s office was located, for the interview. The security guards in the main lobby let him through easily at the mention of his name, pointing him toward the shiny doors of a lift. When he stepped onto it, he hesitated a moment before pressing the 30 button.
He wasn’t nervous, per say - according to Gaius all he had to really do to get this job was show up - but something about the building made him thrum with energy. As the floors ticked by, his fingers beat an uneven rhythm against his thigh.
The only person waiting for him on Floor 30 was a scruffy-looking bloke whose nameplate proclaimed him Leon Knightly, Personal Assistant to A. Penn. When Merlin walked in, he was hovering over the coffee machine, and it looked like he was trying to coax it into working faster.
“Um, hello?” he ventured.
“Yes, how can I help you?” Leon barely turned around, his eyes never leaving the pot.
“Er, I’m here for the interview? With Mr. Penn?” His eyes wandered to a large wooden door that was firmly shut. He couldn’t see a light on underneath.
Leon finally turned, giving up on the coffee for the moment. “Right. Of course, you’re Mr. Emrys.”
When Leon was back at his desk, Merlin held out a hand. “You can call me Merlin.”
Leon’s eyes widened, and for a moment Merlin expected there to be one of those “like the wizard?” comments, but he didn’t say anything. After much too long a pause, Leon shook his hand and said, a strange note to his voice, “Nice to meet you, Merlin.”
“Likewise.” Feeling suddenly awkward, Merlin shoved his hands in his pocket. “So, er, is Mr. Penn ready for me?”
The reminder seemed to kick Leon back in gear, because he turned, reaching for the phone on his desk. “He’s actually running a bit late, but I’ll call him and let him know you’re here, okay?” And with one last strange look at Merlin, he started dialing.
***
Arthur glanced at the screen of his BlackBerry and answered on the second ring. “Yes, Leon?”
“Sir,” Leon’s tinny voice said through the speaker, “your nine-o-clock’s here. A Mr. Merlin Emrys.”
“Merlin?” he repeated, and he shared a shocked look with Gwen. “Tall, lanky guy, black hair, completely gorgeous?”
“That’s the one, Sir.”
Arthur let out a long gust of air that became a laugh halfway through. Of course it would be that simple now. God, Fate was a bitch.
“I’m on my way. And for fuck’s sake, don’t let him leave.”
After he hung up, he stared wordlessly at Gwen for a moment until she reached out, grabbed his shoulders, and shook him a bit. “Go.”
***
“I could come back later,” Merlin offered ten minutes into his wait, but Leon looked so stricken when he said no that Merlin didn’t dare bring it up again.
***
Arthur was in such a state by the time he got to Penn Inc. that he didn’t even wait to hear how much the fare was, just threw too much money through the open window and ran inside, past the confused security guards and straight into the elevator.
It took much longer than usual to get to his floor, of course, several stops along the way impeding his progress. He nearly murdered the woman who got on at 13 and back off at 15.
When the door finally let out a ‘ding!’ and opened to his floor, his pulse was racing and his mind soared. He hadn’t felt this good in years - possibly since Merlin had stepped close that first time to wrap the scarf around his neck.
The first thing he saw when he rounded the corner was Merlin. He was leaned back in a chair, long legs stretched out in front of him and his hands in his pockets, thumbs rubbing along the fabric of his pants. It was quite possibly the best thing Arthur had ever seen.
An assessment that was promptly proven wrong when Merlin looked up, saw him, and froze, his mouth dropping open.
Arthur was grinning so hard it probably should have hurt.
Merlin got up and walked toward him, almost hesitant, but a brilliant grin was unfurling on his lips as well. “Arthur Penn,” he said, like he should have known all along that it would happen this way.
“Merlin Emrys,” Arthur returned, and if it came out more breathless than suave, only Leon was there to notice.
Before he could talk himself out of it, Arthur leaned forward into Merlin’s space and, after a moment to allow him to pull away if he wanted to, pressed their lips together.
Merlin’s hands came up to bracket his face instantly, strong fingers on his jaw and at his nape. He let his arms slip around Merlin’s waist, pulling him as close as he could, and ran his tongue along Merlin’s bottom lip.
Merlin let out a low, rumbling groan and licked into Arthur’s mouth, tilting his head and shifting impossibly closer. Arthur’s hands had just started drifting toward the ass of Merlin’s pants when Leon cleared his throat loudly.
“You’ve got an office. Use it.”
Arthur pulled back, though admittedly not very much, and huffed a breathless laugh. He grasped one of Merlin’s hands and began pulling him toward his office door. Merlin laughed too, and stuttered an awkward apology as they passed.
“I’ll tell your father Merlin has the job, then?” Leon asked, an amused smirk on his face.
“Good man.”
Epilogue
Christmas Eve, 2010
Gwen insisted that it was her idea they all gather at Morgana’s for Christmas that year, but Arthur thought it reeked of Morgana and Leon’s influence. Especially when Morgana’s assistant Helen showed up, begging to be regaled with the story of Arthur and Merlin’s Time-Transcendent True Love.
“We are not calling it that.” Arthur glowered at his sister over the top of his eggnog. “You did this on purpose.”
Morgana put a hand to her chest in an ineffective plea of innocence. “Your suspicion wounds me. It’s not my fault the girl’s curious.”
He looked at Helen, who seemed more amused than anything. “Didn’t any of your teachers tell you not to give in to peer pressure? She is the one they were warning you about.”
“Come on, Arthur,” Merlin called from behind him, where he was going through Morgana’s books. She had a surprising amount, bookshelves spanning two walls, and Merlin had been wanting to go through them for months. “She’s going to make us do this every year. She gave us an anniversary gift. You may as well get used to it.”
Morgana grinned, a promise of how true that statement was, and Arthur rolled his eyes. “Fine, fine. What would you like to know, Helen?”
Gwen clapped excitedly and ran over to join them, settling next to Morgana on the couch. Lance and Leon, who’d taken to each other quite well, looked over briefly and then kept talking.
Helen smiled. “Was it love at first sight?”
“Um,” Arthur laughed, “give or take five minutes.” Merlin let out a loud snort.
“He doesn’t give the best first impressions, my Arthur. He’s a bit of an arse, really.”
“You hijacked my cab! I had the right.” Merlin hummed indulgently and grinned over his shoulder when Arthur huffed. “Okay, next question.”
“What did you do when you saw each other again after all that time had passed?” This time it was Leon who snorted.
“You coached her into this,” Arthur accused, glaring over at him.
“By which he means they made out in his office like teenagers until Uther came down to meet his new employee.” Leon smirked.
“Which also answers the question of how I met the parent,” Merlin said. “He gave Arthur a talk about sexual harassment lawsuits and offered me a raise. I hadn’t even started working yet.”
“Next,” Arthur said. Gwen and Leon were both shaking with mirth at this point and Morgana’s lips were twitching like she really wanted to comment.
Helen was giggling now too, and it was obvious she already knew most of the story because next she asked, “Did you ever stop looking for him? The book, with his name in it?”
His face softened. “Never. I went into at least one every single day, even when I barely let myself think about him. I never found it, though. I’m not really sure what I would have done if I had. Hopped on a plane to England and started digging through phone books, probably.”
“Arthur,” Merlin said tentatively.
“What? It could have worked, admit it.”
“No seriously, Arthur.” He turned around and Merlin was holding up a book. An old, slightly battered hardback copy of Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy. He flipped it open to page forty-two and presented it to the group. In the margin was a scribbled Merlin Emrys, followed by ten digits.
To everyone’s surprise, it was Helen who spoke up. “I remember that! I got that for your Christmas present one year. I’d read it and I thought you’d like it, so I found you a first edition. Wow, that was…2006, I think?”
The whole group stared wide-eyed between her and the book for a long moment, disbelieving. Then Lance laughed.
“So it’s been one floor up this whole time?” he asked. Even Morgana’s mouth had dropped open in shock and she raised her hands in vague, if genuine apology. Arthur shook his head; it certainly wasn’t her fault. He couldn’t even blame Helen.
“God, fate is such a bitch.”