We Need to Talk About Merlin [Part 4]
Author: schweet_heart
Title: We Need to Talk About Merlin [Part 4]
Rating: R [this part]
Pairing/s: Merlin/Arthur, Merlin/Edwin
Character/s: Merlin, Arthur, Edwin
Summary: Merlin has a new boyfriend. Morgana doesn't like him. Somehow, Arthur winds up stuck in the middle.
[ Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | AO3 | Merlocked18's Art | Sequel ]
Warnings: Discussions of cheating/infidelity, mildly dubious consent, deeply questionable life decisions.
Word Count: 1300 words (...I swear I'll get it back down to 1k next week)
Prompt: #251 Perfectly Imperfect.
Author's Notes: I swear this was meant to be only 4 parts.
When Arthur finally tracks him down, Merlin is holed up in a conference room on the second floor, sitting curled up on a large black settee next to the window. He has his knees drawn up and the lights off, and if Arthur hadn’t been looking for him he might have mistaken him for part of the furniture.
“There you are,” he says, stopping in the doorway. “Can I come in?”
“No.”
Arthur ignores this, stepping inside and closing the door. “You know, you’re not very good at hiding,” he continues, determined to keep his voice light. “This was the only room open on this floor, other than the bathroom. Kind of obvious.”
“Yeah, well, I’m sorry my secret concealment skills aren’t up to your expectations,” Merlin spits out. “Next time, I’ll be sure to break into a broom closet somewhere so that you won’t be able to track me down.”
Arthur sighs and picks his way across the cluttered floor. “Not what I meant,” he says, perching on the sofa next to Merlin. “You don’t need to hide from me.”
“Don’t I?” Merlin shifts away from him, shoulders stiff. “Did you know?”
“About Edwin?”
“No, about Gwaine. Did you know Morgana was trying to set me up with someone?”
Arthur frowns, not sure why this is important. “She may have mentioned something about it.”
“And you went along with it?”
“You know what Morgana’s like. When she gets an idea into her head, sometimes it’s safer just to get out of the way. Although, if it helps, I don’t think she was actually aiming to break the two of you up - she just wanted you to know you had other options.”
Merlin huffs. “Right. Because I couldn’t possibly figure that out for myself. Did it even occur to either of you that I was happy with the way things were?”
“I told her not to interfere,” Arthur retorts, sounding defensive even to himself. “But she had a bee in her bonnet about Edwin; she was convinced he wasn’t good enough for you.” He folds his arms across his chest. “You have to admit, she got that part right.”
“Oh, sure.” In the dim light, Arthur can see Merlin’s expression twist into a contemptuous knot, his mask pushed back to reveal a tear-streaked face. “Poor, hapless Merlin, can’t even tell his boyfriend is a cheating douchebag. Good thing I’ve got you guys to set me straight, isn’t it?”
“Merlin…”
“No, forget it.” Merlin pushes to his feet. “I’m going home.”
“You are not.” Arthur grabs his arm. “If anything, Edwin’s the one who should be slinking away in shame, not you. At least come and have another drink with me, show him you couldn’t care less what he does.”
But Merlin is already shaking his head. “I don’t want another drink, thanks,” he says. “I think I’ve already been humiliated enough for one evening.”
The bitterness in his tone makes Arthur’s stomach clench, and not for the first time he wishes he’d stopped long enough to punch Edwin in the face. He lets go of Merlin’s wrist.
“You really liked him, huh.”
“No, it’s not that.” Merlin worries at his lower lip. “I mean, I did like him, of course I liked him - I think maybe I could have loved him, even, given time. But we’d only been together a few months. It’s just…you and Morgana, you never know when to leave well enough alone. It's humiliating.”
“We were only trying to help.”
“I know. But there’s a reason why I never talk to you guys about my love life.” He glances at Arthur, then away again. “You’re my ex, even if it was a long time ago. Would you want Sophia to be privy to all the details of your failed relationships?”
“Well, no,” Arthur admits. “But I hate Sophia. You hate Sophia. People in Papua New Guinea who have never met Sophia hate Sophia. Of course I’m not going to tell her anything.” He studies Merlin’s face, tugging the fairy king mask off altogether so he can see him better. “Do you hate me?”
Merlin looks down. “No,” he says quietly. “No, I don’t hate you. Only…I’m such a hopeless mess, Arthur, I can’t help thinking you must look at me and be so grateful you decided to break things off when you did.”
This is so far from the truth that Arthur can’t help but laugh, the sound coming out slightly strangled. He drops the mask onto the sofa and stands up. This close, the slight difference in their heights is more obvious, but he still has to tip Merlin’s chin up with one finger as he says, “The way I remember it, that was a mutual decision, for the good of our collective sanity.” He smiles crookedly, wondering if Merlin can guess at the true depth of emotion behind it. “Don’t let Edwin make you second-guess yourself. You may not be perfect, but as far as I’m concerned you’re perfect that way.”
It’s quiet, there in the conference room. Outside, it has started snowing lightly, tight little flurries that don’t bode well for the journey home, and Merlin meets Arthur’s gaze, the pearlescent light reflected in his wide-open eyes.
“Did you ever think, maybe…” He lets the thought trail off, his eyes roaming Arthur’s face. Arthur holds himself very still.
“Do I ever think what?”
Merlin’s voice is low. “D'you ever think maybe we made a mistake?”
Arthur licks his lips, and can feel as much as hear the startled shift in Merlin’s breathing. “Merlin, I - “
Merlin kisses him. Perfectly imperfect Merlin, with his unruly hair and his too-big ears, his hands coming up to gently bracket Arthur’s face. It’s better than Arthur remembers, better even than he’d imagined earlier on the dance floor; everything is preternaturally clear and sharp, Merlin’s hands and Merlin’s lips the only real things and everything else a dream.
When he can breathe, Arthur says, “You’re not - I don’t think you’re hopeless.”
Merlin snorts. “You tell me I’m hopeless at least six times a day.”
“All right.” Arthur smiles a little, bumping their foreheads together. “So maybe you are hopeless. But you’re not - I mean - I want…even hopeless personal assistants deserve to be happy, you know.”
Merlin’s breath hitches in what might be a laugh, and he threads his fingers into Arthur’s hair, shifting forward until Arthur can feel the hard length of him pressed against his thigh. “How happy?”
“Very happy,” Arthur murmurs, the breath stopping in his throat as Merlin nudges him back towards the sofa. “Ecstatic, even.”
This can’t possibly end well. Merlin has just been jilted by his boyfriend, and Arthur still hasn’t told him how he feels, but on the other hand, Merlin is right there, his eyes dark without that ludicrous mask, and it seems like he’s asking - as if he wants -
“Fuck me,” Merlin whispers, removing any possibility of doubt and also apparently all the air from the room. “Arthur, I want you to - “
“We’re drunk,” Arthur blurts, his voice shaking. “And Edwin…”
“I don’t care about Edwin,” Merlin hisses, with enough vehemence that it can’t possibly be true. “Arthur, please.”
When Arthur remains silent, Merlin takes up the argument in kisses, slow and soft, tracing a burning trail under Arthur’s jaw and down his throat until his knees abruptly give way, and he sits down heavily on the leather sofa behind him. He catches at Merlin’s arms in an effort to slow things down, to orient himself, but Merlin is already straddling his lap, and Arthur is losing the ability to think with anything approaching rationality.
“Merlin,” he manages - a last-ditch effort. “This is a public building. We can’t…”
“We can,” Merlin disagrees, and Arthur can’t help but give in.
Title: We Need to Talk About Merlin [Part 4]
Rating: R [this part]
Pairing/s: Merlin/Arthur, Merlin/Edwin
Character/s: Merlin, Arthur, Edwin
Summary: Merlin has a new boyfriend. Morgana doesn't like him. Somehow, Arthur winds up stuck in the middle.
[ Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | AO3 | Merlocked18's Art | Sequel ]
Warnings: Discussions of cheating/infidelity, mildly dubious consent, deeply questionable life decisions.
Word Count: 1300 words (...I swear I'll get it back down to 1k next week)
Prompt: #251 Perfectly Imperfect.
Author's Notes: I swear this was meant to be only 4 parts.
When Arthur finally tracks him down, Merlin is holed up in a conference room on the second floor, sitting curled up on a large black settee next to the window. He has his knees drawn up and the lights off, and if Arthur hadn’t been looking for him he might have mistaken him for part of the furniture.
“There you are,” he says, stopping in the doorway. “Can I come in?”
“No.”
Arthur ignores this, stepping inside and closing the door. “You know, you’re not very good at hiding,” he continues, determined to keep his voice light. “This was the only room open on this floor, other than the bathroom. Kind of obvious.”
“Yeah, well, I’m sorry my secret concealment skills aren’t up to your expectations,” Merlin spits out. “Next time, I’ll be sure to break into a broom closet somewhere so that you won’t be able to track me down.”
Arthur sighs and picks his way across the cluttered floor. “Not what I meant,” he says, perching on the sofa next to Merlin. “You don’t need to hide from me.”
“Don’t I?” Merlin shifts away from him, shoulders stiff. “Did you know?”
“About Edwin?”
“No, about Gwaine. Did you know Morgana was trying to set me up with someone?”
Arthur frowns, not sure why this is important. “She may have mentioned something about it.”
“And you went along with it?”
“You know what Morgana’s like. When she gets an idea into her head, sometimes it’s safer just to get out of the way. Although, if it helps, I don’t think she was actually aiming to break the two of you up - she just wanted you to know you had other options.”
Merlin huffs. “Right. Because I couldn’t possibly figure that out for myself. Did it even occur to either of you that I was happy with the way things were?”
“I told her not to interfere,” Arthur retorts, sounding defensive even to himself. “But she had a bee in her bonnet about Edwin; she was convinced he wasn’t good enough for you.” He folds his arms across his chest. “You have to admit, she got that part right.”
“Oh, sure.” In the dim light, Arthur can see Merlin’s expression twist into a contemptuous knot, his mask pushed back to reveal a tear-streaked face. “Poor, hapless Merlin, can’t even tell his boyfriend is a cheating douchebag. Good thing I’ve got you guys to set me straight, isn’t it?”
“Merlin…”
“No, forget it.” Merlin pushes to his feet. “I’m going home.”
“You are not.” Arthur grabs his arm. “If anything, Edwin’s the one who should be slinking away in shame, not you. At least come and have another drink with me, show him you couldn’t care less what he does.”
But Merlin is already shaking his head. “I don’t want another drink, thanks,” he says. “I think I’ve already been humiliated enough for one evening.”
The bitterness in his tone makes Arthur’s stomach clench, and not for the first time he wishes he’d stopped long enough to punch Edwin in the face. He lets go of Merlin’s wrist.
“You really liked him, huh.”
“No, it’s not that.” Merlin worries at his lower lip. “I mean, I did like him, of course I liked him - I think maybe I could have loved him, even, given time. But we’d only been together a few months. It’s just…you and Morgana, you never know when to leave well enough alone. It's humiliating.”
“We were only trying to help.”
“I know. But there’s a reason why I never talk to you guys about my love life.” He glances at Arthur, then away again. “You’re my ex, even if it was a long time ago. Would you want Sophia to be privy to all the details of your failed relationships?”
“Well, no,” Arthur admits. “But I hate Sophia. You hate Sophia. People in Papua New Guinea who have never met Sophia hate Sophia. Of course I’m not going to tell her anything.” He studies Merlin’s face, tugging the fairy king mask off altogether so he can see him better. “Do you hate me?”
Merlin looks down. “No,” he says quietly. “No, I don’t hate you. Only…I’m such a hopeless mess, Arthur, I can’t help thinking you must look at me and be so grateful you decided to break things off when you did.”
This is so far from the truth that Arthur can’t help but laugh, the sound coming out slightly strangled. He drops the mask onto the sofa and stands up. This close, the slight difference in their heights is more obvious, but he still has to tip Merlin’s chin up with one finger as he says, “The way I remember it, that was a mutual decision, for the good of our collective sanity.” He smiles crookedly, wondering if Merlin can guess at the true depth of emotion behind it. “Don’t let Edwin make you second-guess yourself. You may not be perfect, but as far as I’m concerned you’re perfect that way.”
It’s quiet, there in the conference room. Outside, it has started snowing lightly, tight little flurries that don’t bode well for the journey home, and Merlin meets Arthur’s gaze, the pearlescent light reflected in his wide-open eyes.
“Did you ever think, maybe…” He lets the thought trail off, his eyes roaming Arthur’s face. Arthur holds himself very still.
“Do I ever think what?”
Merlin’s voice is low. “D'you ever think maybe we made a mistake?”
Arthur licks his lips, and can feel as much as hear the startled shift in Merlin’s breathing. “Merlin, I - “
Merlin kisses him. Perfectly imperfect Merlin, with his unruly hair and his too-big ears, his hands coming up to gently bracket Arthur’s face. It’s better than Arthur remembers, better even than he’d imagined earlier on the dance floor; everything is preternaturally clear and sharp, Merlin’s hands and Merlin’s lips the only real things and everything else a dream.
When he can breathe, Arthur says, “You’re not - I don’t think you’re hopeless.”
Merlin snorts. “You tell me I’m hopeless at least six times a day.”
“All right.” Arthur smiles a little, bumping their foreheads together. “So maybe you are hopeless. But you’re not - I mean - I want…even hopeless personal assistants deserve to be happy, you know.”
Merlin’s breath hitches in what might be a laugh, and he threads his fingers into Arthur’s hair, shifting forward until Arthur can feel the hard length of him pressed against his thigh. “How happy?”
“Very happy,” Arthur murmurs, the breath stopping in his throat as Merlin nudges him back towards the sofa. “Ecstatic, even.”
This can’t possibly end well. Merlin has just been jilted by his boyfriend, and Arthur still hasn’t told him how he feels, but on the other hand, Merlin is right there, his eyes dark without that ludicrous mask, and it seems like he’s asking - as if he wants -
“Fuck me,” Merlin whispers, removing any possibility of doubt and also apparently all the air from the room. “Arthur, I want you to - “
“We’re drunk,” Arthur blurts, his voice shaking. “And Edwin…”
“I don’t care about Edwin,” Merlin hisses, with enough vehemence that it can’t possibly be true. “Arthur, please.”
When Arthur remains silent, Merlin takes up the argument in kisses, slow and soft, tracing a burning trail under Arthur’s jaw and down his throat until his knees abruptly give way, and he sits down heavily on the leather sofa behind him. He catches at Merlin’s arms in an effort to slow things down, to orient himself, but Merlin is already straddling his lap, and Arthur is losing the ability to think with anything approaching rationality.
“Merlin,” he manages - a last-ditch effort. “This is a public building. We can’t…”
“We can,” Merlin disagrees, and Arthur can’t help but give in.