Not Quite Mary Poppins
This is my first foray out of American fandoms in about two years, not counting that tiny Colin/Bradley ficlet I did a little while ago. It's the second of my two Merlin fics (so far), but the first one I've managed to finish. The other is at 27,000 words and climbing, so have this one in the meantime.
Title: Not Quite Mary Poppins
Pairing: Arthur/Merlin
Rating: PG-13
Summary: The one where Merlin is a nanny, Arthur’s both a prat and a normal human being, Morgana schemes and Uther does relatively little.
Wordcount: 7,564
A/N: Huge thanks to caedesdeo for the prompt and excellent beta, and for not running away screaming when I poked her (she’ll learn). Also for reminding me about childproof caps on children’s medicine bottles *looks sheepish*
Please tell me if I sound too American; I’ve been writing in American for so long that it’s difficult for me to tell if it came through in this.
"It is a truth universally acknowledged that a single man in possession of a young son must be in want of a nanny."
"Gwen, could you stop butchering poor Jane Austen and help me pick out a jacket?"
As far as beginnings go, it isn't a very good one, but then again that's actually pretty fitting. Not all epic tales have an auspicious start, and the ones that do, well. We all remember Romeo and Juliet, right? So, perhaps it's for the better for Merlin to have such a horrible feeling about this interview, the sort that makes him despair over his jackets and mutter in Welsh about how it'd look like he's trying too hard if he does take those references from the owner of Ealdor Agricultural Supplies with him after all.
Gwen, his friend, his bestest friend in the whole entire world who is helping to keep him sane long enough to get through this, removes the suit jacket in his hand with a sigh and replaces it with a much more casual blue blazer. "There. Much better."
"Thanks." He can't stop himself sounding small and pathetic.
"Honestly, Merlin, anyone would think you're nervous."
"It's Arthur Pendragon. You do remember that stuff with his father last month, right?" He sounds slightly desperate, hoping Gwen will say 'yes' and then tell him not to go because she doesn't want him to be eaten alive for not being who he's supposed to be (never mind that they don't know who he's supposed to be, but he can't help thinking he isn't it.)
"Yes." Merlin's hopes soar. "And this isn't him, and you aren't a company being taken over." His hopes crash like so many have done before.
"It wasn't a takeover, it was a massacre!" Gwen slings his messenger bag over his shoulder, pulls his limp arm through the strap and pushes him towards the door. "A ma-"
"Massacre, yes, we've established that. Look, if you don't get out of here and into the car I won't be around the next time you need someone to keep you sane." Merlin shuts up and gets into the car, Gwen giving off vibes that he'd think are smug were she not such a nice person.
A nice person who delivers him to his doom, otherwise known as the Pendragon estate. It's a stupidly large house set in parkland (parkland!), with what are apparently deer roaming over the driveway. Merlin stares. Gwen stares - although hopefully also keeping an eye on where she's driving.
"Okay, you have to get this job just so that my excuse for being late to work is 'I was navigating the five miles of driveway to Pendragon House'."
Merlin buries his face in his hands and prays for a miracle or three.
Not surprisingly, none are forthcoming.
---
"I just don't see why you feel it's necessary to hire a nanny, that's all!" The woman who opens that door after Merlin's yank on the stupidly ornate bell-pull is beautiful, in a sort of terrifying way. She turns around in a flourish of glossy hair and expensive silk, and by virtue of Merlin standing two steps down he ends up on eye level with her equally terrifying cleavage.
"Can I help you?" Behind her surprisingly polite question Merlin can see confusion; clearly, whoever she was waiting for, it's not him.
"I'm Merlin Emrys?"
Her eyebrows lift. Merlin waits for the rebuttal. "From the Albion Agency?"
"Yes?" He will stop talking in questions some day soon, he promises himself, and resists the urge to turn around because the sight of Gwen's car vanishing down the driveway would be too depressing.
"You're the new nanny then." Merlin nods, about to apologise (it became automatic after the fifth family who expected a nanny and got a guy with messy hair and too large ears instead), but gets beaten to it by the woman. "I'm so sorry, you'd better come in."
"I- oh. Okay."
The house, like the bell-pull, is stupidly ornate. Far too many painted eyes follow Merlin as he follows the scary lady (You're not the child, Merlin, stop saying that) across an entrance hall he's fairly sure could be marked out and used to play tennis in and into a surprisingly cozy sitting room.
That she yelled from the door to here and was heard is evident as the man waiting there re-starts the argument where they'd left off when the woman had gone to open the door. He apparently doesn't notice Merlin standing behind her, because his first words are:
"Because Sophia is a heartless, backstabbing betrayer who would probably like to kill me, and Gawain needs a female influence in his life that isn't her or you. Hence the nanny."
Merlin counts himself lucky that looks have never swayed his opinion about someone, because this guy is absolutely gorgeous, and yet Merlin still thinks he's a prat.
"You didn't leave her out in the hall, did you?" He glares. Merlin bites his lip to stop the smile tugging at his lips. If he does get the job, this is going to a lot of fun. "Morgana, if you've scared her away already-"
"Arthur, meet Merlin Emrys. Gawain's new nanny." She steps aside, Arthur sees Merlin, and that, as they say, is when it all goes to hell.
--
"The only reason I'm still here, and I mean that, is because I think your sister would disembowel me if I ran away." Merlin waves a piece of paper detailing times for Gawain's summer fencing lessons at Arthur and glares. Arthur glares back, arms folded in a way he probably thinks is menacing. "And, also, how much stuff did you sign your kid up for?"
"Step-sister, not that it's ever really mattered." Arthur shifts, looking the faintest bit uncomfortable. "And he needs stuff to do, when I'm not around."
Merlin raises his eyebrows. "There's got to be at least seven clubs here. Are you planning to be around at all?"
"Yes," Arthur snaps, "I'm not going to abandon him with you."
"But you'd abandon him with some woman?"
Arthur splutters in the face of such logic. "Well, yes, I mean, no, but, look, you're a man!"
"And you're a prat. Are we done stating the obvious?"
"I'm your employer, technically you can't talk to me like that!"
"Do you want to fire me and have Morgana after you?" Merlin takes a grim satisfaction at the look of abject horror on Arthur's face and returns to his heap of papers. "Horse riding? Piano? Archery? Ballroom dancing? Do you want him to be bullied or be the bully?!"
"I don't know what he likes," says Arthur, and Merlin would swear he sounds defensive. Deciding, in an obviously saintly moment, to let it go, he sighs.
"I'm going to need to make a proper schedule for him at this rate. Is there anything else you've got planned for him, like seeing any friends, or his mother-"
"No," interrupts Arthur, "that won't be an issue. Just those, and a weekly dinner with my father. His assistant will call to tell us when."
"Right. In that case, shove off while I get started." Merlin drags his laptop out of his bag and grins up at Arthur, who ignores the command and nods questioningly towards the computer. "Gwen - the girl who dropped me off - made me bring it. Thought it might be useful."
"Right." Arthur watches him for a while, seemingly content to lean against the fireplace as Merlin starts tackling Gawain's list of clubs and activities into something understandable. It's a little off-putting, but Merlin tries to tune him out, and eventually Arthur must decide he's had enough of watching the new nanny mutter Welsh swear words as he struggles to read the handwritten notes in various margins because he leaves.
Merlin waves a hand over his head in acknowledgment of the half-amused "there's something about you, Merlin. I can't quite put my finger on it" that Arthur sends his way as he goes, and makes a note to ask the boy if he even likes horses.
It always pays to pre-empt a terrifying situation, after all. Merlin briefly wishes he'd managed to do it with this one.
--
Gwen looks sympathetic as she listens to Merlin about the ridiculous demands Arthur has for his son, all the little things like no TV after seven, and two hours of piano practice before he can go run wild in the stupidly large gardens.
Everything about Pendragon House, and the Pendragons themselves, is stupid, it seems.
Gwen points this out. "And you said Arthur's hair is stupid. What have you got against him already?"
"He doesn't want me there. It's Morgana that thinks a male nanny is a good idea, apparently. I think she thinks Gawain's been traumatised by his mother."
"Well, she was a bit...you know." Merlin nods but keeps silent, finding himself already planning the next day's schedule. "See, I knew you'd like this job."
"What?"
Gwen grins. "You've got that look on your face, the 'I'm planning a schedule' look. I don't know why you waste it on children, you'd be an amazing personal assistant. Not that you're a bad nanny, of course, I don't mean that, but-"
"I know, Gwen." Merlin curls up even smaller on his sofa, casting a look at his laptop which is glowing bright because he'd just lowered the lid when Gwen came over, the spreadsheet currently making glorious sense out of Gawain's summer waiting for him. "But you see how badly I'm getting along with Arthur, right? And that's one parent; imagine what I'd be like dealing with the amount of people a PA does."
Gwen pretends to wince, smiling. "Fair enough."
"And, alright, he's not that bad. I think he just isn't sure how to act like a human being."
"Can you blame him, with a dad like Uther Pendragon?"
There's not really much Merlin can say to that.
----
The next day goes much smoother, and if that's only because Gawain is there to act as a buffer (not that he knows it) between Merlin and Arthur, then Merlin has high hopes for this job.
Gawain is five years old and the spitting image of his father, although with a much better set of manners. Blond hair, blue eyes and a deceptively sweet smile make Merlin both cautious for future heartbroken five year old girls and wary of making Arthur smile like that. He looks carefully, when Arthur's not around, for any traces of the woman Arthur seems to hate so much, but can't find any.
He's not sure whether to be relieved about that yet.
In a quirk of fate that makes Merlin grin happily and just a little victoriously at Arthur over Gawain's head, Gawain seems to love him on sight. Within moments of introducing himself as 'Merlin, your new nanny' (bracing himself for the childish mocking), he's being asked a series of questions about wizards, and magic, and has he got an umbrella that lets him fly? Merlin grins even wider and answers with increasingly silly things, just to make Gawain giggle.
A phone call takes Arthur away for a good half hour, and when he comes back Merlin is teaching Gawain how to say please and thank you in Welsh, much to the boy's delight. Merlin's aware of Arthur watching, but does nothing to let on that he knows; something makes him want to keep that curiously soft expression on Arthur's face.
It's gone between one badly mangled 'ddiolch 'ch' and another, and Arthur clears his throat. "I have to go see my father; will you be alright here?"
Merlin isn't entirely sure who he's talking to, but Gawain answers for both of them. "We'll be fine, Dad." He looks up at Merlin with a serious expression once Arthur's gone, and scrutinises him carefully. Merlin holds still, well aware that how a child acts in front of their parents is not how they might act when alone with the nanny. "He likes you."
That's... not what he was expecting. "Do you like me?"
"Yeah," Gawain says with a shrug, "but not like Dad does." He watches Merlin flail at that, then hops down off his chair. "Come on, I'll show you my room."
"Were all you Pendragons precocious?" It's a rhetorical question directed towards one of the portraits hanging on the wall as Gawain pulls him up the stairs, but Merlin isn't surprised when the boy answers.
"Pretty much. Grandfather says Dad was worse than I am." He sounds awed.
Merlin doesn't doubt it.
----
Morgana is comfortably ensconced in one of the sitting rooms at Pendragon House, quite peaceful and content with a magazine, when Arthur wanders in and starts talking without any regard for whether she wants to talk or not. "He's got references from Ealdor. The agricultural company."
"Yes, Arthur."
"And Lord Bedevere, that guy who's always trying to get you to go flying. He's worth millions."
"Yes, Arthur. So are you."
"How did Merlin get references from them?"
Morgana sighs heavily and gives up on her magazine, her peace, and possibly Arthur's intelligence. "He worked for them, that's how."
"But this is Merlin. He can't even make toast without burning it." Morgana knows this. She knows because the fire alarm was still going off when she arrived for her daily session of annoying Arthur, finding all three of them in the kitchen. Arthur had been glaring, hands on hips, at a sheepish Merlin, while Gawain raced around making noises like a fire engine.
"But he can organise Gawain's summer stuff, make a non-burnt packed lunch, make sure he's got the right equipment and keep you on time for whatever meetings you've got, right?" Arthur shrugs, somehow managing to make it look grudging. "There's a reason he's one of the most sought after nannies in the country, you know."
"... He is?"
Morgana stares up at him. Arthur blinks down at her. "Did you not read his resume? My my, you are getting lax."
"I forgot." Morgana keeps looking at him. Arthur doesn't just forget to read a resume, and definitely not for someone who'll be working so close to him. "Besides, Gawain likes him, so it doesn't matter."
"Ah. Gawain likes him. Of course. You know," she stands up and taps him on the arm with her rolled-up magazine, "he's also gay."
"How the hell do you know that?! I'm pretty sure it's not on his resume. And why are you telling me," he adds belatedly, but Morgana has already started smirking.
"I have my sources." It's time, she thinks, leaving Arthur to worry about what else she's going to discover and/or say, to take Bedevere up on his offer. She feels like flying today.
----
The summer passes in an alarmingly pleasant way. Gawain takes to all of his classes, including ballroom dancing, with a show of talent Merlin can't help but attribute to his father. Once Merlin figures out that Arthur is capable of being a normal human being, and how exactly to make him act like it on a regular basis, he lets himself relax and concentrate on Gawain.
It's the day before Gawain goes to school for the first time, and Merlin is not a little surprised at his unconcerned attitude. "I went to preschool for a year already," shrugs Gawain when Merlin asks if he's nervous, "and some of the kids at my summer classes'll be there too."
Seeing the school he's starting at Merlin doesn't doubt it. Sitting in the warm kitchen with Arthur, both of them sorting through piles of papers, Merlin asks: "He's going to the Camelot Academy?"
Arthur must mistake the curious tone for something else, because his voice has that weirdly defensive tone Merlin hasn't heard since they first met. "Yeah. Something wrong?"
"No, no, not at all. It's just a bit, well, elite."
"What the hell do you know about it?" The you're just a nanny goes unsaid, but Merlin flinches anyway. Arthur sets his pen down with too much force, sending it skittering away to clatter to the floor. "I'm sorry, that was uncalled for."
"Just a bit, yeah." Arthur won't meet his gaze. "It's fine, don't worry about it."
"It's not fine, Merlin; I shouldn't talk to a friend like that," Arthur says fiercely, at last meeting Merlin's eyes with what he'd swear is pride. It makes sense, knowing Arthur's inability to apologise for anything, and takes the sting away from his snappish remark. Then; "We are... right?"
"Yes, although how I can be friends with such a prat I'll never understand." Arthur grins, the same sunny grin as Gawain, and Merlin does not look at the strip of skin exposed as Arthur leans down to pick up his pen.
"How do you know about it, though? I thought Bedevere's kid went to that boarding school, Avalon Somewhere, and everyone knows that Ealdor woman homeschools hers."
Merlin blinks. "You read my resume?" Arthur gives him a well-honed 'you're a moron' look. They both have them, and both use them a lot. "Right, right, sorry. Well, I worked for Dr. Gaius for a while, until his daughter started at Camelot."
"Did you ever find out his last name?"
Merlin laughs. "No, oddly enough." Arthur joins in, papers abandoned as he leans back in his chair, hands laced behind his head.
"You'd think, being one of the most prominent doctors in the country, that someone would know his last name. Hey, wait, what's the daughter's surname?"
"No such luck; she uses her mother's maiden name."
"Ah well, never mind," Arthur sighs, still smiling. "Who else?"
"That's, um, that's it. Just them."
"You're a rubbish liar, Merlin. That sort of disgust at an elite school only comes from knowing someone awful who has a kid there, I know it. Now, tell."
Merlin tries to ignore the teasing note in Arthur's voice and pretends to be focused on Gawain's uniform list as he replies. "I worked for Nimueh du Lac for a while." The silence is deafening. "She, ah, fired me."
"I know," says Arthur tightly. "I think most people know that, I just didn't realise that that nanny was...you." Merlin very carefully doesn't look up, waits for Arthur to carry this on. After a pause in which Merlin may possibly pray to any and all gods he can think of, and also Gwen for good measure, Arthur speaks. "I'm glad she did. Otherwise I- Gawain wouldn't have you around."
The grin spreads across Merlin's face as Arthur abruptly pushes his chair back, scraping over the stone floor, and vanishes into the depths of the house.
Yep, definitely a good summer.
----
They hit the first school-related snag about three weeks in, just before the October half term. Arthur, for all his insane workaholic tendencies, made it clear that he, not Merlin, will pick Gawain up from school each afternoon and the clubs that Gawain (of his own volition this time) has already joined.
Merlin is pleasantly surprised to find that Arthur remembers to do this every day without fail, even if he's had a five hour business meeting with his father and various board members.
Until one day he doesn't, and Merlin gets a call from a very worried headmistress (Camelot Academy believes in preferential service, apparently) that "Gawain is still waiting to be picked up, is everything alright at home?"
It's the first time Merlin hits Arthur, and to this day neither of them really know how they end up fighting, just that when they turn up to collect a sulky Gawain Arthur has a black eye and Merlin's got a split lip.
They're both grinning like idiots.
Much later, once Gawain has been placated with promises of a new set of encyclopaedias - Merlin heartily approves, because it isn't something else sharp and pointy for him to juggle with book bags and lunchboxes - Arthur quietly confides that Sophia had called.
Merlin looks at him, the flicker of the film they were watching until Arthur spoke lending his face an ethereal quality. "What did she want?" Time was it would've been inappropriate for him to ask that, but too many early mornings getting a sleepy Gawain ready for school and a sleepier Arthur ready for work (not strictly his job, but Merlin's conscience doesn't like letting him inflict morning Arthur on anyone else) has trained them out of such things as propriety.
That, and their fist-fight that afternoon.
"To see him." Arthur stretches; Merlin starts to look away, then thinks what the hell, it's dark. "Why now I haven't got a bloody clue; it's been two years."
"Are you gonna let her?"
He's silent for a long moment. Anyone else and Merlin would reach out, ground them with a comforting hand against the peculiar quality in the air that's making them lean in towards each other. Then;
"I don't know. I'll see what he wants to do."
"Precocious as he is, he'll probably be able to give you a bullet-pointed list of the pros and cons." Arthur laughs, the thread of tension that's been building snapping. Merlin sighs quietly and suggests another film.
Arthur must be more distracted than he's admitting, because he doesn't put up a fight when Merlin suggests Moulin Rouge out of sheer mischief.
----
One week, two days until Christmas, and Arthur decides to start the apparently obligatory 'needle the nanny about his sex life' questioning. It's happened to Merlin in every job he's had, once it comes out one way or another that he's gay, whether by slightly uncomfortable parents or slightly too interested ones.
At least Arthur pretends he doesn't know, although it doesn't last long because by this time Merlin can tell when he's lying. The conversation goes something like this:
"So, will you be bringing Gwen to the Christmas party?"
"No, because I wasn't planning on going myself."
At this point Arthur blinks at him, as if he didn't know this, hadn't been told it every day since informing Merlin about the giant party the Pendragons throw every year, and leans forward with an endearingly earnest expression on his face. "Merlin, it's a tradition."
"So is burning witches, and I don't see anyone prodding me into taking part in that." Merlin finishes wrapping a present for one of Gawain's teachers and reflects how fun it is to confuse Arthur, not that it takes much.
"Wha- you know, Merlin, sometimes I really don't get you."
"Good. Makes things more interesting."
Hmm," Arthur says, which could mean anything. Merlin keeps quiet. "Well? You're part of the family now, albeit an idiotic part who can't even curl ribbon properly, give me that." He leans over the low coffee table that they're kneeling either side of and steals the ribbon, the scissors and the present from Merlin. "And it's family tradition that we all bring our better halves to the stupidly over-the-top Christmas party."
Merlin chokes on the eggnog Gawain had insisted on making. Non-alcoholic, sadly. "And you think...me and Gwen?"
Arthur does a surprisingly good impression of clueless. "Yes? Why, did you break up?" Merlin senses he's about to be shown an attempt at an impression of pity for the non-existent ending to a non-existent relationship, and tilts his cup at Arthur.
"Stop it. I know you know I'm gay - Morgana let it slip - so enough of the frankly ridiculous pretending. I'm not going to the damn party." Arthur's next impression is of a fish, and not a terribly attractive one at that. Merlin grins and gets a faceful of ribbons.
"Okay, okay, fine. I was just trying to be..."
"Annoying?"
"Understanding, giving you a chance to tell me yourself."
"Riight. Wasn't so you could see if Gwen's available, of course." Arthur is the very image of Gawain getting caught sneaking extra snacks after dinner, and Merlin ends up rolling on the floor, unable to stop laughing. Arthur waits it out with another one of their shared expressions, this one more of a 'you're a moron and I don't know what's going on so I'll just leave you to it' face.
"Done?"
Merlin wipes away a tear or two. "Yes, thank you."
"I wasn't wondering about Gwen." Merlin just looks at him. "...well, maybe I was, but not for me! One of my friends is, well. Single."
"As much as I think she'd appreciate being set up with one of your friends - that is, she'd never forgive me for allowing it to happen - she's got a boyfriend. Lance. I think you'd like him, actually, he's into fencing and all that stuff."
"Why don't you invite them then? They'd be more than welcome to bring some sanity to the party."
"Sure." Merlin smiles and makes a note on his hand, carefully not watching the way Arthur watches him. They fall silent as Arthur expertly curls ribbons and fastens them to the tops of the pile of presents Merlin has already wrapped, while Merlin writes cards for Gawain to sign when he wakes up.
It's almost embarrassingly domestic, to the point where Merlin thinks he should put on one of the awfully cheesy Christmas CD's Gwen hid in his bag as a joke. Arthur senses it too, and starts laughing, eyes bright and reflecting the inexpertly hung (courtesy of Gawain, Merlin and a stepladder) lights on the (stupidly ornate) tree.
He could get used to this, thinks Merlin, and straight away loses a bit of his happiness.
Nannies don't last long enough to get this domestically comfortable, usually.
----
It's inevitable that Gwen and Morgana will get along like they've known each other forever, because that's just the way Arthur's luck runs. Merlin had warned him that this might happen, had said it with that teasing glint in his eye that made Arthur want to kiss him senseless sometimes and at others make him laugh until he cries.
It's just, he didn't expect them to be this obvious about it. Mistletoe and jokes about the von Trapp family are just so clichéd, somehow, and certainly not at the same level as Morgana's usual schemes. Although, actually, thinking about that, Arthur decides to be glad; this way he can see the traps coming and apply avoidance tactics.
He manages fine until he's carrying a heap of precariously balanced presents into the larger sitting room, grumbling about his father's insistence on bringing their gifts on the actual day. He always ends up stowing whatever large box Gawain receives under their tree long after all the other packages are neatly arranged, which is annoying.
There's a mild commotion in the room as hands from behind grab his waist and stop him in the doorway, and Arthur cringes. He can't see what's going on, vision blocked by the monstrosity Uther's bought for his grandson this year, but he can guess. By the strength of the person holding him it's Morgana, which means the person guiding (dragging) a confused Merlin towards them is sweet Gwen, who Arthur is now regretting introducing to his step-sister.
"Go on then, it's traditional!"
"Morgana-" Arthur tries to shift the box slightly to stop his voice being muffled. It doesn't work, mostly because he doesn't want it to end up on his foot. "It's only traditional if the people don't realise, not if they get press-ganged underneath."
He doesn't expect Merlin's laughter, or for the present to be carefully taken out of his hands. Merlin is there, flushed from helping Cook and smiling like he's the happiest he's ever been. "Don't be such a spoilsport, Arthur."
He definitely doesn't expect Merlin to lean in and press a kiss to his cheek, still grinning, before whirling away to deposit the present and carry on with whatever he was doing before they got grabbed.
Arthur stares. "Close you mouth, he didn't even use tongue," says Morgana, letting him go. She sounds inordinately pleased with herself.
"Saving that for after dinner," Merlin yells back from wherever he's gone, laughter in his voice, "I wouldn't want to shock him too much."
After that lunch seems a bit anticlimactic.
----
Gawain really doesn't want to go back to school in the New Year, and Arthur quite agrees with him. He still feels hungover from the party his friends had thrown to celebrate, even though he knows that's impossible. It could have something to do with the way Merlin still looks at him with a reproachful air, and Arthur desperately wants to know what he said or did when he got back at four am and proceeded to crash around until Merlin forcibly sent him to bed.
He gets over it, mostly, until Gwen comes to pick Merlin up one afternoon about a week later and chats to Arthur while they wait for him to finish whatever he's doing with Gawain. She smiles and talks about odd things, the sort of conversation Arthur's never really had because his father always wants there to be a purpose to talking.
Merlin's getting him used to it, slowly, with his ramblings and constant dashes from one topic to another.
"How was your New Year then?" She's smiling, probably expecting more of the alarmingly domestic behaviour she's witnessed over Christmas.
"Gawain stayed with my father, which is a normal thing, and I went to a party organised by some old friends of mine. I got so drunk it sometimes still feels like my stomach never wants to see solid foods again." The smile drops off Gwen's face.
"What about Merlin?"
Arthur frowns. "What about him? I thought he celebrated with you, like he said he always does."
"Lance took me away to Scotland for the entire weekend." They look at each other, and Arthur can practically hear the accusation in her eyes. "He was alone over New Year's?!"
"I-I didn't realise, I thought..." stammers Arthur. He doesn't actually know what he thought, just that he's getting the horrible feeling he missed something. Gwen's glaring at him, and he lets her; the tight feeling in his chest won't really let him do anything else.
Merlin comes flying down the stairs in his usual gangly way, sliding a little on the polished stone floor as he rushes over to where they're both leaning against a side of the huge doorway. "Sorry, maths homework was kicking both our asses. Ready?"
"Yep. Come on." Arthur watches them leave, Gwen still obviously angry with him. He's too busy wondering when Merlin stopped touching him to notice. When exactly they started resting a hand on the other's shoulder or back when one of them leaves, or even something so simple as a fleeting brush of hands when trading papers or whatever, Arthur can't pinpoint, but they have.
Arthur stays motionless, head bowed as he thinks deeply. He's almost sure Merlin hasn't touched him for a few weeks - longer than New Year, anyway - but any reason for it still eludes him.
He's still trying to work out what he can do to apologise and get Merlin touching him again without sounding too pathetic when Gawain wanders in for a drink, his tousled hair making it obvious that he and Merlin were more likely on the PlayStation than doing maths homework.
Gawain gets halfway out of the room before turning and saying, with all the drama of a five year old who thinks all adults are idiots, "he pretends like he doesn't mind, but he did really."
"I screwed up, didn't I." Gawain nods and clambers up to sit on the edge of the table. He's not strictly allowed, but Arthur knows Merlin lets him when he's making pancakes (his speciality, and now Gawain's favourite). Arthur gets the feeling his son is about to cross into much more important territory than the issue of Merlin's more relaxed rules.
"Yep. You like him, don't you."
There's no point in arguing; not only is Gawain ridiculously precocious, he's also perceptive. "I shouldn't, but I do."
"Why shouldn't you?" Precocious, yes, but he's still five.
"Because it'd be complicated. He works for me," Arthur explains, "and that puts him in an awkward position if I say anything about it."
Gawain shrugs. "So fire him." He says it with unshakable logic, as it appears to a five year old. "Then he can be my dad instead of my nanny." Arthur gapes, half-expecting to hear Merlin telling him to shut his mouth, he's not catching frogs. "That'd be good for everyone, except maybe granddad."
He abruptly hops down and runs off in typical five year old fashion, no doubt to carry on playing video games, leaving Arthur stunned into absolute silence and wondering if getting custody was a good idea after all.
An image of Sophia comes unwanted into his mind, permanently elegant and perfectly dressed without a crease, and it's joined by one of a ruffled Merlin dodging Arthur as he races to get Gawain's things ready for fencing.
Arthur's glad Gawain's not around to hear the groan he lets out. The boy would probably misinterpret (probably purposefully) and make a comment far beyond his years.
He's well and truly head-over-heels for the nanny.
--
The day after Arthur sends Gawain away to his room as soon as they get back from school, promising him takeaway pizza (something never usually allowed) so long as he stays out of the way for the rest of the evening. Gawain complies a little too fast for Arthur's peace of mind, and he has to stop himself explaining to his five year old that he's not planning on propositioning Merlin.
It's a quiet meal followed by the sort of laughter that makes your sides hurt and leaves you lightheaded, all because they watch one of the artsy films Morgana has taken to leaving around the house.
Arthur isn't sure whether it's a hint or just Morgana being Morgana, but it gets rid of the tension he's spotted - now that he's paying attention to it, which affords him no little shame - between Merlin's shoulders. Whether it's the film or the four hours they spend talking afterwards, Arthur doesn't care to work out, but whichever it is has the desired result.
Merlin starts touching him again.
Gawain walks around with a smug air for days afterwards, and Arthur would tell him off except he's pretty sure he looks like that himself.
----
Valentines Day passes with a very quiet Arthur and a morose Gawain, who, when pressed, says he most certainly does not miss his mother, but wishes "Dad had someone to share today with, you know? Someone who'll love him properly."
Merlin swallows hard and distracts him with a Welsh lesson.
----
Then Easter rolls around, and with it a bruised Gawain and a pair of amused adults, although they do their best to hide it.
"You know, I remember a time when life wasn't interrupted at intervals by the most ridiculous situations ever." Merlin glances up from where he's dabbing antiseptic onto a nasty cut on Gawain's cheek and smiles at Arthur. "It's all your fault, you know."
"Oh, of course."
"Ow, Merlin, that hurt," complains Gawain. Merlin refocuses and concentrates on not dabbing too hard. "And it's not his fault, Dad. I was the one fighting."
"I know, which is the problem." Arthur hides his smile and glares at Gawain, who looks chagrined and stares at his feet as Merlin moves on to the broken skin on his knuckles. Merlin looks up through his eyelashes, aiming for reproachful but landing nearer to coy, and it takes Arthur's breath away for a moment.
"What does the letter say?"
Arthur blinks and rereads it as Merlin carefully bandages Gawain's hand. "That he and...another boy were caught fighting at lunchtime, and refused to tell the Headmistress why they were doing so when she called them to her office."
"Who was the other boy?" Gawain and Arthur share a glance that immediately makes Merlin suspicious.
"Who?"
"Merlin-"
"It was Mordred," interrupts Gawain, shooting a defiant look at his father. "He said some stuff about you that was horrible and obviously false, so I hit him."
"Gawain, you can't do that every time someone makes a joke about me being a manny. We've talked about this." The nickname for a male nanny had made Gawain laugh, at first, until Arthur had gently told him it was generally used as a derogative. Merlin isn't sure why Arthur had done that, but it had made Gawain fiercely defensive and gave Merlin a warm feeling for days afterwards.
They really have. Back during Gawain's first term, his affection for Merlin had developed a defensive streak that manifested after he endured one too many taunts about being looked after by a manny. It's nothing unusual, at least not for Gawain; Arthur often worries about how defensive he gets when someone makes a disparaging comment about Arthur himself, either concerning his failed marriage or his reputation for being a ruthless businessman.
Merlin sighs, sounding resigned, and sends Gawain off with instructions to ask for some Calpol if his bruises hurt too much. Arthur watches him go, battling between pride that his son can hold his own against a boy a year older than he is and concern about the alarming number of fights he's been getting into.
"We've been called in to see the Headmistress," Arthur says quietly. "She'll be there with Mordred, so you don't have to come if you don't want to."
"Don't be an ass," replies Merlin fiercely, "of course I'll be there."
Arthur's pretty sure he's blushing with happiness, and takes himself away to his study before Merlin notices.
----
If the thought of seeing Nimueh had been bad, and it had been, then actually being in the same room as her is almost more than Merlin can stand. He keeps Arthur as a barrier between them as much as possible, which is practically from the moment they walk in to the moment they leave because Arthur clearly knows how much Merlin hates her.
"Arthur Pendragon, lovely to meet you" are her opening words, accompanied by a lush smile. She sends a poisonous look Merlin's way, and he's pathetically comforted when Arthur shifts subtly closer.
The meeting is pretty bizarre, because Mordred is as precocious as Gawain and just as certain that he was in the right. For his part, Gawain shows no embarrassment when he explains why he had thrown the first punch, and he obviously sees the faint twin smirks on the face of his opponent and his opponent's mother because he flushes with anger and raises his voice.
They leave with Gawain on a warning and Mordred in detention, Nimueh icy with anger.
Merlin takes Gawain to stand by the car, making him repeat fencing terms and dancing patterns until he's calmer and not showing the signs of Pendragon rage that Merlin can tell just as easily in him as he can in Arthur. Nimueh has caught Arthur's arm, drawing him away to speak to him with an intent expression.
Arthur listens for a minute or two before shaking her hand off and stalking away, face as pale as Gawain's had been. The two boys glare at each other with mutual hatred, which under other circumstances would make Merlin laugh, and then they're finally away from Nimueh du Lac.
Merlin waits until Gawain is ensconced in his room tackling homework to ask Arthur what she'd said to him.
"More stuff about you," he answers shortly, clattering pans in a way that will surely make Cook yell at him when she arrives later.
Merlin sighs. "If you want me to leave, I can-"
"No!" Arthur's right in front of him with a speed he should be used to by now, but he still gasps a little and rocks when Arthur's hands close over his arms. "She was lying, okay, and I know she was, and if you ever talk about leaving again I'll hit you."
"Because that's a surefire way to stop me quitting." Merlin tries for sarcasm and ends up with something veering towards breathless, because Arthur is right there and saying he never wants Merlin to leave, practically.
He pulls away with a smile and a mention of organising Gawain's things for the morning, leaving in a hurry.
----
Merlin isn't sure when he became 'Merlin, Arthur's better half' instead of 'Merlin, Gawain's nanny', but he apparently has because to date six people have referred to him as such. That two of them are Gwen and Morgana is to be expected; that Uther, on only the second occasion he's met Merlin, is another is not expected.
It's Gawain's sixth birthday party, and from where he is in the dining room Merlin can hear him shrieking as he plays some sort of party game with his friends. It's one of those days you get in films, with perfect skies and the sort of heat that you know is languid even through a camera lens, oozing in through the french doors that lead out onto the patio from every room on the south side of the house.
Merlin has begged off participating in any more games for a while; he's got a nasty bruise on his hip from where Galahad had been a little too enthusiastic in his turn at the piñata. Clearing away the remains of the birthday lunch and replacing it with dessert is a much safer option, at least until Arthur wanders in.
Arthur's bright at the worst of times, but in the liquid sun he seems golden, Merlin's insistence that he set aside all work for the weekend making him look loose and relaxed. He's even bowled in an impromptu and entirely made-up game of cricket, and staged a mock duel with Lance to the delight of Gawain and his friends.
Merlin stares at him, Arthur catches his eye and oh, this is it, this is everything.
This is how it should be, the two of them in this house, taking care of Gawain and each other, balancing each others characters out.
Like two sides of a coin, thinks Merlin, and he grins suddenly. The voice belongs to the founder of the Albion Agency, a crusty old dragon who spends most of his time rambling on about destinies and Fate when he isn't finding people jobs.
Arthur grins back, warm and open and sidesteps a group of screaming children to join Merlin by the table.
"Having fun?"
"Oh yes. I live for cooking seemingly endless bags of chicken nuggets and making tray after tray of muffins for a load of kids who won't notice if they're burnt or not in their rush to get back out to the bouncy castle some idiot of a parent thought it'd be a good idea to get." He's trying to be normal, to joke and tease and stop Arthur from seeing how hopelessly in love Merlin is with him, because right now he can't seem to hide it away.
He sees it the moment Arthur gets it, a widening of blue, blue eyes that's followed by an incredulous smile that Merlin almost can't bring himself to understand.
Then Arthur's kissing him, mouth flavoured with cool strawberries; he's stolen some of the children's ice-cream, lips slightly sticky against Merlin's and tasting sugary sweet as their tongues slide together.
Merlin loops his arms behind Arthur's head and grins into the kiss, which makes it more of a nuzzle than a proper kiss, but coherent thought is fading into the background of murmured conversation between adults and the low but persistent sound of a game of tag being played out somewhere in the parkland.
"We've got twenty-five bedrooms, why are you kissing in the middle of the dining room?"
Arthur barely pulls away long enough to answer a weary but happy-sounding Gawain, appearing from a field (judging by the grass stains on his jeans) to interrupt what is possibly the best moment of Merlin's life - and Gwen will never hear him admit that because she will tell Morgana and they will mock him for eternity.
"Better get used to it, kid."
Merlin lifts his burning face from Arthur's neck to see Gawain's grinning face. "Can you fire him now Dad? Please?" Arthur chuckles, the vibrations against his chest making Merlin mostly forget to be suddenly worried.
"Merlin," says Arthur softly, leaning in to press kisses along his jawline, "you're fired."
"Yes!" shouts Gawain in the middle of Merlin's slight heart-attack and major confusion. He yells for one of his friends, a boy Merlin remembers asking Gawain earlier who he is. Gawain, unusually, had refrained from answering. Now he says, very loudly and with an unmistakable note of pride, "Perceval, meet Merlin. My dad's boyfriend."
"Oh," says Merlin faintly. Arthur looks at him with a mix of amusement and affection- no, love, and it's another one they share. Merlin just hadn't realised what it meant.
"Idiot."
"Prat."
There's only one way to end an argument like that, and it involved pretty much everyone, Gawain included, yelling at them to get a room.
They comply.
Well, there are twenty-five to choose from.
Title: Not Quite Mary Poppins
Pairing: Arthur/Merlin
Rating: PG-13
Summary: The one where Merlin is a nanny, Arthur’s both a prat and a normal human being, Morgana schemes and Uther does relatively little.
Wordcount: 7,564
A/N: Huge thanks to caedesdeo for the prompt and excellent beta, and for not running away screaming when I poked her (she’ll learn). Also for reminding me about childproof caps on children’s medicine bottles *looks sheepish*
Please tell me if I sound too American; I’ve been writing in American for so long that it’s difficult for me to tell if it came through in this.
"It is a truth universally acknowledged that a single man in possession of a young son must be in want of a nanny."
"Gwen, could you stop butchering poor Jane Austen and help me pick out a jacket?"
As far as beginnings go, it isn't a very good one, but then again that's actually pretty fitting. Not all epic tales have an auspicious start, and the ones that do, well. We all remember Romeo and Juliet, right? So, perhaps it's for the better for Merlin to have such a horrible feeling about this interview, the sort that makes him despair over his jackets and mutter in Welsh about how it'd look like he's trying too hard if he does take those references from the owner of Ealdor Agricultural Supplies with him after all.
Gwen, his friend, his bestest friend in the whole entire world who is helping to keep him sane long enough to get through this, removes the suit jacket in his hand with a sigh and replaces it with a much more casual blue blazer. "There. Much better."
"Thanks." He can't stop himself sounding small and pathetic.
"Honestly, Merlin, anyone would think you're nervous."
"It's Arthur Pendragon. You do remember that stuff with his father last month, right?" He sounds slightly desperate, hoping Gwen will say 'yes' and then tell him not to go because she doesn't want him to be eaten alive for not being who he's supposed to be (never mind that they don't know who he's supposed to be, but he can't help thinking he isn't it.)
"Yes." Merlin's hopes soar. "And this isn't him, and you aren't a company being taken over." His hopes crash like so many have done before.
"It wasn't a takeover, it was a massacre!" Gwen slings his messenger bag over his shoulder, pulls his limp arm through the strap and pushes him towards the door. "A ma-"
"Massacre, yes, we've established that. Look, if you don't get out of here and into the car I won't be around the next time you need someone to keep you sane." Merlin shuts up and gets into the car, Gwen giving off vibes that he'd think are smug were she not such a nice person.
A nice person who delivers him to his doom, otherwise known as the Pendragon estate. It's a stupidly large house set in parkland (parkland!), with what are apparently deer roaming over the driveway. Merlin stares. Gwen stares - although hopefully also keeping an eye on where she's driving.
"Okay, you have to get this job just so that my excuse for being late to work is 'I was navigating the five miles of driveway to Pendragon House'."
Merlin buries his face in his hands and prays for a miracle or three.
Not surprisingly, none are forthcoming.
---
"I just don't see why you feel it's necessary to hire a nanny, that's all!" The woman who opens that door after Merlin's yank on the stupidly ornate bell-pull is beautiful, in a sort of terrifying way. She turns around in a flourish of glossy hair and expensive silk, and by virtue of Merlin standing two steps down he ends up on eye level with her equally terrifying cleavage.
"Can I help you?" Behind her surprisingly polite question Merlin can see confusion; clearly, whoever she was waiting for, it's not him.
"I'm Merlin Emrys?"
Her eyebrows lift. Merlin waits for the rebuttal. "From the Albion Agency?"
"Yes?" He will stop talking in questions some day soon, he promises himself, and resists the urge to turn around because the sight of Gwen's car vanishing down the driveway would be too depressing.
"You're the new nanny then." Merlin nods, about to apologise (it became automatic after the fifth family who expected a nanny and got a guy with messy hair and too large ears instead), but gets beaten to it by the woman. "I'm so sorry, you'd better come in."
"I- oh. Okay."
The house, like the bell-pull, is stupidly ornate. Far too many painted eyes follow Merlin as he follows the scary lady (You're not the child, Merlin, stop saying that) across an entrance hall he's fairly sure could be marked out and used to play tennis in and into a surprisingly cozy sitting room.
That she yelled from the door to here and was heard is evident as the man waiting there re-starts the argument where they'd left off when the woman had gone to open the door. He apparently doesn't notice Merlin standing behind her, because his first words are:
"Because Sophia is a heartless, backstabbing betrayer who would probably like to kill me, and Gawain needs a female influence in his life that isn't her or you. Hence the nanny."
Merlin counts himself lucky that looks have never swayed his opinion about someone, because this guy is absolutely gorgeous, and yet Merlin still thinks he's a prat.
"You didn't leave her out in the hall, did you?" He glares. Merlin bites his lip to stop the smile tugging at his lips. If he does get the job, this is going to a lot of fun. "Morgana, if you've scared her away already-"
"Arthur, meet Merlin Emrys. Gawain's new nanny." She steps aside, Arthur sees Merlin, and that, as they say, is when it all goes to hell.
--
"The only reason I'm still here, and I mean that, is because I think your sister would disembowel me if I ran away." Merlin waves a piece of paper detailing times for Gawain's summer fencing lessons at Arthur and glares. Arthur glares back, arms folded in a way he probably thinks is menacing. "And, also, how much stuff did you sign your kid up for?"
"Step-sister, not that it's ever really mattered." Arthur shifts, looking the faintest bit uncomfortable. "And he needs stuff to do, when I'm not around."
Merlin raises his eyebrows. "There's got to be at least seven clubs here. Are you planning to be around at all?"
"Yes," Arthur snaps, "I'm not going to abandon him with you."
"But you'd abandon him with some woman?"
Arthur splutters in the face of such logic. "Well, yes, I mean, no, but, look, you're a man!"
"And you're a prat. Are we done stating the obvious?"
"I'm your employer, technically you can't talk to me like that!"
"Do you want to fire me and have Morgana after you?" Merlin takes a grim satisfaction at the look of abject horror on Arthur's face and returns to his heap of papers. "Horse riding? Piano? Archery? Ballroom dancing? Do you want him to be bullied or be the bully?!"
"I don't know what he likes," says Arthur, and Merlin would swear he sounds defensive. Deciding, in an obviously saintly moment, to let it go, he sighs.
"I'm going to need to make a proper schedule for him at this rate. Is there anything else you've got planned for him, like seeing any friends, or his mother-"
"No," interrupts Arthur, "that won't be an issue. Just those, and a weekly dinner with my father. His assistant will call to tell us when."
"Right. In that case, shove off while I get started." Merlin drags his laptop out of his bag and grins up at Arthur, who ignores the command and nods questioningly towards the computer. "Gwen - the girl who dropped me off - made me bring it. Thought it might be useful."
"Right." Arthur watches him for a while, seemingly content to lean against the fireplace as Merlin starts tackling Gawain's list of clubs and activities into something understandable. It's a little off-putting, but Merlin tries to tune him out, and eventually Arthur must decide he's had enough of watching the new nanny mutter Welsh swear words as he struggles to read the handwritten notes in various margins because he leaves.
Merlin waves a hand over his head in acknowledgment of the half-amused "there's something about you, Merlin. I can't quite put my finger on it" that Arthur sends his way as he goes, and makes a note to ask the boy if he even likes horses.
It always pays to pre-empt a terrifying situation, after all. Merlin briefly wishes he'd managed to do it with this one.
--
Gwen looks sympathetic as she listens to Merlin about the ridiculous demands Arthur has for his son, all the little things like no TV after seven, and two hours of piano practice before he can go run wild in the stupidly large gardens.
Everything about Pendragon House, and the Pendragons themselves, is stupid, it seems.
Gwen points this out. "And you said Arthur's hair is stupid. What have you got against him already?"
"He doesn't want me there. It's Morgana that thinks a male nanny is a good idea, apparently. I think she thinks Gawain's been traumatised by his mother."
"Well, she was a bit...you know." Merlin nods but keeps silent, finding himself already planning the next day's schedule. "See, I knew you'd like this job."
"What?"
Gwen grins. "You've got that look on your face, the 'I'm planning a schedule' look. I don't know why you waste it on children, you'd be an amazing personal assistant. Not that you're a bad nanny, of course, I don't mean that, but-"
"I know, Gwen." Merlin curls up even smaller on his sofa, casting a look at his laptop which is glowing bright because he'd just lowered the lid when Gwen came over, the spreadsheet currently making glorious sense out of Gawain's summer waiting for him. "But you see how badly I'm getting along with Arthur, right? And that's one parent; imagine what I'd be like dealing with the amount of people a PA does."
Gwen pretends to wince, smiling. "Fair enough."
"And, alright, he's not that bad. I think he just isn't sure how to act like a human being."
"Can you blame him, with a dad like Uther Pendragon?"
There's not really much Merlin can say to that.
----
The next day goes much smoother, and if that's only because Gawain is there to act as a buffer (not that he knows it) between Merlin and Arthur, then Merlin has high hopes for this job.
Gawain is five years old and the spitting image of his father, although with a much better set of manners. Blond hair, blue eyes and a deceptively sweet smile make Merlin both cautious for future heartbroken five year old girls and wary of making Arthur smile like that. He looks carefully, when Arthur's not around, for any traces of the woman Arthur seems to hate so much, but can't find any.
He's not sure whether to be relieved about that yet.
In a quirk of fate that makes Merlin grin happily and just a little victoriously at Arthur over Gawain's head, Gawain seems to love him on sight. Within moments of introducing himself as 'Merlin, your new nanny' (bracing himself for the childish mocking), he's being asked a series of questions about wizards, and magic, and has he got an umbrella that lets him fly? Merlin grins even wider and answers with increasingly silly things, just to make Gawain giggle.
A phone call takes Arthur away for a good half hour, and when he comes back Merlin is teaching Gawain how to say please and thank you in Welsh, much to the boy's delight. Merlin's aware of Arthur watching, but does nothing to let on that he knows; something makes him want to keep that curiously soft expression on Arthur's face.
It's gone between one badly mangled 'ddiolch 'ch' and another, and Arthur clears his throat. "I have to go see my father; will you be alright here?"
Merlin isn't entirely sure who he's talking to, but Gawain answers for both of them. "We'll be fine, Dad." He looks up at Merlin with a serious expression once Arthur's gone, and scrutinises him carefully. Merlin holds still, well aware that how a child acts in front of their parents is not how they might act when alone with the nanny. "He likes you."
That's... not what he was expecting. "Do you like me?"
"Yeah," Gawain says with a shrug, "but not like Dad does." He watches Merlin flail at that, then hops down off his chair. "Come on, I'll show you my room."
"Were all you Pendragons precocious?" It's a rhetorical question directed towards one of the portraits hanging on the wall as Gawain pulls him up the stairs, but Merlin isn't surprised when the boy answers.
"Pretty much. Grandfather says Dad was worse than I am." He sounds awed.
Merlin doesn't doubt it.
----
Morgana is comfortably ensconced in one of the sitting rooms at Pendragon House, quite peaceful and content with a magazine, when Arthur wanders in and starts talking without any regard for whether she wants to talk or not. "He's got references from Ealdor. The agricultural company."
"Yes, Arthur."
"And Lord Bedevere, that guy who's always trying to get you to go flying. He's worth millions."
"Yes, Arthur. So are you."
"How did Merlin get references from them?"
Morgana sighs heavily and gives up on her magazine, her peace, and possibly Arthur's intelligence. "He worked for them, that's how."
"But this is Merlin. He can't even make toast without burning it." Morgana knows this. She knows because the fire alarm was still going off when she arrived for her daily session of annoying Arthur, finding all three of them in the kitchen. Arthur had been glaring, hands on hips, at a sheepish Merlin, while Gawain raced around making noises like a fire engine.
"But he can organise Gawain's summer stuff, make a non-burnt packed lunch, make sure he's got the right equipment and keep you on time for whatever meetings you've got, right?" Arthur shrugs, somehow managing to make it look grudging. "There's a reason he's one of the most sought after nannies in the country, you know."
"... He is?"
Morgana stares up at him. Arthur blinks down at her. "Did you not read his resume? My my, you are getting lax."
"I forgot." Morgana keeps looking at him. Arthur doesn't just forget to read a resume, and definitely not for someone who'll be working so close to him. "Besides, Gawain likes him, so it doesn't matter."
"Ah. Gawain likes him. Of course. You know," she stands up and taps him on the arm with her rolled-up magazine, "he's also gay."
"How the hell do you know that?! I'm pretty sure it's not on his resume. And why are you telling me," he adds belatedly, but Morgana has already started smirking.
"I have my sources." It's time, she thinks, leaving Arthur to worry about what else she's going to discover and/or say, to take Bedevere up on his offer. She feels like flying today.
----
The summer passes in an alarmingly pleasant way. Gawain takes to all of his classes, including ballroom dancing, with a show of talent Merlin can't help but attribute to his father. Once Merlin figures out that Arthur is capable of being a normal human being, and how exactly to make him act like it on a regular basis, he lets himself relax and concentrate on Gawain.
It's the day before Gawain goes to school for the first time, and Merlin is not a little surprised at his unconcerned attitude. "I went to preschool for a year already," shrugs Gawain when Merlin asks if he's nervous, "and some of the kids at my summer classes'll be there too."
Seeing the school he's starting at Merlin doesn't doubt it. Sitting in the warm kitchen with Arthur, both of them sorting through piles of papers, Merlin asks: "He's going to the Camelot Academy?"
Arthur must mistake the curious tone for something else, because his voice has that weirdly defensive tone Merlin hasn't heard since they first met. "Yeah. Something wrong?"
"No, no, not at all. It's just a bit, well, elite."
"What the hell do you know about it?" The you're just a nanny goes unsaid, but Merlin flinches anyway. Arthur sets his pen down with too much force, sending it skittering away to clatter to the floor. "I'm sorry, that was uncalled for."
"Just a bit, yeah." Arthur won't meet his gaze. "It's fine, don't worry about it."
"It's not fine, Merlin; I shouldn't talk to a friend like that," Arthur says fiercely, at last meeting Merlin's eyes with what he'd swear is pride. It makes sense, knowing Arthur's inability to apologise for anything, and takes the sting away from his snappish remark. Then; "We are... right?"
"Yes, although how I can be friends with such a prat I'll never understand." Arthur grins, the same sunny grin as Gawain, and Merlin does not look at the strip of skin exposed as Arthur leans down to pick up his pen.
"How do you know about it, though? I thought Bedevere's kid went to that boarding school, Avalon Somewhere, and everyone knows that Ealdor woman homeschools hers."
Merlin blinks. "You read my resume?" Arthur gives him a well-honed 'you're a moron' look. They both have them, and both use them a lot. "Right, right, sorry. Well, I worked for Dr. Gaius for a while, until his daughter started at Camelot."
"Did you ever find out his last name?"
Merlin laughs. "No, oddly enough." Arthur joins in, papers abandoned as he leans back in his chair, hands laced behind his head.
"You'd think, being one of the most prominent doctors in the country, that someone would know his last name. Hey, wait, what's the daughter's surname?"
"No such luck; she uses her mother's maiden name."
"Ah well, never mind," Arthur sighs, still smiling. "Who else?"
"That's, um, that's it. Just them."
"You're a rubbish liar, Merlin. That sort of disgust at an elite school only comes from knowing someone awful who has a kid there, I know it. Now, tell."
Merlin tries to ignore the teasing note in Arthur's voice and pretends to be focused on Gawain's uniform list as he replies. "I worked for Nimueh du Lac for a while." The silence is deafening. "She, ah, fired me."
"I know," says Arthur tightly. "I think most people know that, I just didn't realise that that nanny was...you." Merlin very carefully doesn't look up, waits for Arthur to carry this on. After a pause in which Merlin may possibly pray to any and all gods he can think of, and also Gwen for good measure, Arthur speaks. "I'm glad she did. Otherwise I- Gawain wouldn't have you around."
The grin spreads across Merlin's face as Arthur abruptly pushes his chair back, scraping over the stone floor, and vanishes into the depths of the house.
Yep, definitely a good summer.
----
They hit the first school-related snag about three weeks in, just before the October half term. Arthur, for all his insane workaholic tendencies, made it clear that he, not Merlin, will pick Gawain up from school each afternoon and the clubs that Gawain (of his own volition this time) has already joined.
Merlin is pleasantly surprised to find that Arthur remembers to do this every day without fail, even if he's had a five hour business meeting with his father and various board members.
Until one day he doesn't, and Merlin gets a call from a very worried headmistress (Camelot Academy believes in preferential service, apparently) that "Gawain is still waiting to be picked up, is everything alright at home?"
It's the first time Merlin hits Arthur, and to this day neither of them really know how they end up fighting, just that when they turn up to collect a sulky Gawain Arthur has a black eye and Merlin's got a split lip.
They're both grinning like idiots.
Much later, once Gawain has been placated with promises of a new set of encyclopaedias - Merlin heartily approves, because it isn't something else sharp and pointy for him to juggle with book bags and lunchboxes - Arthur quietly confides that Sophia had called.
Merlin looks at him, the flicker of the film they were watching until Arthur spoke lending his face an ethereal quality. "What did she want?" Time was it would've been inappropriate for him to ask that, but too many early mornings getting a sleepy Gawain ready for school and a sleepier Arthur ready for work (not strictly his job, but Merlin's conscience doesn't like letting him inflict morning Arthur on anyone else) has trained them out of such things as propriety.
That, and their fist-fight that afternoon.
"To see him." Arthur stretches; Merlin starts to look away, then thinks what the hell, it's dark. "Why now I haven't got a bloody clue; it's been two years."
"Are you gonna let her?"
He's silent for a long moment. Anyone else and Merlin would reach out, ground them with a comforting hand against the peculiar quality in the air that's making them lean in towards each other. Then;
"I don't know. I'll see what he wants to do."
"Precocious as he is, he'll probably be able to give you a bullet-pointed list of the pros and cons." Arthur laughs, the thread of tension that's been building snapping. Merlin sighs quietly and suggests another film.
Arthur must be more distracted than he's admitting, because he doesn't put up a fight when Merlin suggests Moulin Rouge out of sheer mischief.
----
One week, two days until Christmas, and Arthur decides to start the apparently obligatory 'needle the nanny about his sex life' questioning. It's happened to Merlin in every job he's had, once it comes out one way or another that he's gay, whether by slightly uncomfortable parents or slightly too interested ones.
At least Arthur pretends he doesn't know, although it doesn't last long because by this time Merlin can tell when he's lying. The conversation goes something like this:
"So, will you be bringing Gwen to the Christmas party?"
"No, because I wasn't planning on going myself."
At this point Arthur blinks at him, as if he didn't know this, hadn't been told it every day since informing Merlin about the giant party the Pendragons throw every year, and leans forward with an endearingly earnest expression on his face. "Merlin, it's a tradition."
"So is burning witches, and I don't see anyone prodding me into taking part in that." Merlin finishes wrapping a present for one of Gawain's teachers and reflects how fun it is to confuse Arthur, not that it takes much.
"Wha- you know, Merlin, sometimes I really don't get you."
"Good. Makes things more interesting."
Hmm," Arthur says, which could mean anything. Merlin keeps quiet. "Well? You're part of the family now, albeit an idiotic part who can't even curl ribbon properly, give me that." He leans over the low coffee table that they're kneeling either side of and steals the ribbon, the scissors and the present from Merlin. "And it's family tradition that we all bring our better halves to the stupidly over-the-top Christmas party."
Merlin chokes on the eggnog Gawain had insisted on making. Non-alcoholic, sadly. "And you think...me and Gwen?"
Arthur does a surprisingly good impression of clueless. "Yes? Why, did you break up?" Merlin senses he's about to be shown an attempt at an impression of pity for the non-existent ending to a non-existent relationship, and tilts his cup at Arthur.
"Stop it. I know you know I'm gay - Morgana let it slip - so enough of the frankly ridiculous pretending. I'm not going to the damn party." Arthur's next impression is of a fish, and not a terribly attractive one at that. Merlin grins and gets a faceful of ribbons.
"Okay, okay, fine. I was just trying to be..."
"Annoying?"
"Understanding, giving you a chance to tell me yourself."
"Riight. Wasn't so you could see if Gwen's available, of course." Arthur is the very image of Gawain getting caught sneaking extra snacks after dinner, and Merlin ends up rolling on the floor, unable to stop laughing. Arthur waits it out with another one of their shared expressions, this one more of a 'you're a moron and I don't know what's going on so I'll just leave you to it' face.
"Done?"
Merlin wipes away a tear or two. "Yes, thank you."
"I wasn't wondering about Gwen." Merlin just looks at him. "...well, maybe I was, but not for me! One of my friends is, well. Single."
"As much as I think she'd appreciate being set up with one of your friends - that is, she'd never forgive me for allowing it to happen - she's got a boyfriend. Lance. I think you'd like him, actually, he's into fencing and all that stuff."
"Why don't you invite them then? They'd be more than welcome to bring some sanity to the party."
"Sure." Merlin smiles and makes a note on his hand, carefully not watching the way Arthur watches him. They fall silent as Arthur expertly curls ribbons and fastens them to the tops of the pile of presents Merlin has already wrapped, while Merlin writes cards for Gawain to sign when he wakes up.
It's almost embarrassingly domestic, to the point where Merlin thinks he should put on one of the awfully cheesy Christmas CD's Gwen hid in his bag as a joke. Arthur senses it too, and starts laughing, eyes bright and reflecting the inexpertly hung (courtesy of Gawain, Merlin and a stepladder) lights on the (stupidly ornate) tree.
He could get used to this, thinks Merlin, and straight away loses a bit of his happiness.
Nannies don't last long enough to get this domestically comfortable, usually.
----
It's inevitable that Gwen and Morgana will get along like they've known each other forever, because that's just the way Arthur's luck runs. Merlin had warned him that this might happen, had said it with that teasing glint in his eye that made Arthur want to kiss him senseless sometimes and at others make him laugh until he cries.
It's just, he didn't expect them to be this obvious about it. Mistletoe and jokes about the von Trapp family are just so clichéd, somehow, and certainly not at the same level as Morgana's usual schemes. Although, actually, thinking about that, Arthur decides to be glad; this way he can see the traps coming and apply avoidance tactics.
He manages fine until he's carrying a heap of precariously balanced presents into the larger sitting room, grumbling about his father's insistence on bringing their gifts on the actual day. He always ends up stowing whatever large box Gawain receives under their tree long after all the other packages are neatly arranged, which is annoying.
There's a mild commotion in the room as hands from behind grab his waist and stop him in the doorway, and Arthur cringes. He can't see what's going on, vision blocked by the monstrosity Uther's bought for his grandson this year, but he can guess. By the strength of the person holding him it's Morgana, which means the person guiding (dragging) a confused Merlin towards them is sweet Gwen, who Arthur is now regretting introducing to his step-sister.
"Go on then, it's traditional!"
"Morgana-" Arthur tries to shift the box slightly to stop his voice being muffled. It doesn't work, mostly because he doesn't want it to end up on his foot. "It's only traditional if the people don't realise, not if they get press-ganged underneath."
He doesn't expect Merlin's laughter, or for the present to be carefully taken out of his hands. Merlin is there, flushed from helping Cook and smiling like he's the happiest he's ever been. "Don't be such a spoilsport, Arthur."
He definitely doesn't expect Merlin to lean in and press a kiss to his cheek, still grinning, before whirling away to deposit the present and carry on with whatever he was doing before they got grabbed.
Arthur stares. "Close you mouth, he didn't even use tongue," says Morgana, letting him go. She sounds inordinately pleased with herself.
"Saving that for after dinner," Merlin yells back from wherever he's gone, laughter in his voice, "I wouldn't want to shock him too much."
After that lunch seems a bit anticlimactic.
----
Gawain really doesn't want to go back to school in the New Year, and Arthur quite agrees with him. He still feels hungover from the party his friends had thrown to celebrate, even though he knows that's impossible. It could have something to do with the way Merlin still looks at him with a reproachful air, and Arthur desperately wants to know what he said or did when he got back at four am and proceeded to crash around until Merlin forcibly sent him to bed.
He gets over it, mostly, until Gwen comes to pick Merlin up one afternoon about a week later and chats to Arthur while they wait for him to finish whatever he's doing with Gawain. She smiles and talks about odd things, the sort of conversation Arthur's never really had because his father always wants there to be a purpose to talking.
Merlin's getting him used to it, slowly, with his ramblings and constant dashes from one topic to another.
"How was your New Year then?" She's smiling, probably expecting more of the alarmingly domestic behaviour she's witnessed over Christmas.
"Gawain stayed with my father, which is a normal thing, and I went to a party organised by some old friends of mine. I got so drunk it sometimes still feels like my stomach never wants to see solid foods again." The smile drops off Gwen's face.
"What about Merlin?"
Arthur frowns. "What about him? I thought he celebrated with you, like he said he always does."
"Lance took me away to Scotland for the entire weekend." They look at each other, and Arthur can practically hear the accusation in her eyes. "He was alone over New Year's?!"
"I-I didn't realise, I thought..." stammers Arthur. He doesn't actually know what he thought, just that he's getting the horrible feeling he missed something. Gwen's glaring at him, and he lets her; the tight feeling in his chest won't really let him do anything else.
Merlin comes flying down the stairs in his usual gangly way, sliding a little on the polished stone floor as he rushes over to where they're both leaning against a side of the huge doorway. "Sorry, maths homework was kicking both our asses. Ready?"
"Yep. Come on." Arthur watches them leave, Gwen still obviously angry with him. He's too busy wondering when Merlin stopped touching him to notice. When exactly they started resting a hand on the other's shoulder or back when one of them leaves, or even something so simple as a fleeting brush of hands when trading papers or whatever, Arthur can't pinpoint, but they have.
Arthur stays motionless, head bowed as he thinks deeply. He's almost sure Merlin hasn't touched him for a few weeks - longer than New Year, anyway - but any reason for it still eludes him.
He's still trying to work out what he can do to apologise and get Merlin touching him again without sounding too pathetic when Gawain wanders in for a drink, his tousled hair making it obvious that he and Merlin were more likely on the PlayStation than doing maths homework.
Gawain gets halfway out of the room before turning and saying, with all the drama of a five year old who thinks all adults are idiots, "he pretends like he doesn't mind, but he did really."
"I screwed up, didn't I." Gawain nods and clambers up to sit on the edge of the table. He's not strictly allowed, but Arthur knows Merlin lets him when he's making pancakes (his speciality, and now Gawain's favourite). Arthur gets the feeling his son is about to cross into much more important territory than the issue of Merlin's more relaxed rules.
"Yep. You like him, don't you."
There's no point in arguing; not only is Gawain ridiculously precocious, he's also perceptive. "I shouldn't, but I do."
"Why shouldn't you?" Precocious, yes, but he's still five.
"Because it'd be complicated. He works for me," Arthur explains, "and that puts him in an awkward position if I say anything about it."
Gawain shrugs. "So fire him." He says it with unshakable logic, as it appears to a five year old. "Then he can be my dad instead of my nanny." Arthur gapes, half-expecting to hear Merlin telling him to shut his mouth, he's not catching frogs. "That'd be good for everyone, except maybe granddad."
He abruptly hops down and runs off in typical five year old fashion, no doubt to carry on playing video games, leaving Arthur stunned into absolute silence and wondering if getting custody was a good idea after all.
An image of Sophia comes unwanted into his mind, permanently elegant and perfectly dressed without a crease, and it's joined by one of a ruffled Merlin dodging Arthur as he races to get Gawain's things ready for fencing.
Arthur's glad Gawain's not around to hear the groan he lets out. The boy would probably misinterpret (probably purposefully) and make a comment far beyond his years.
He's well and truly head-over-heels for the nanny.
--
The day after Arthur sends Gawain away to his room as soon as they get back from school, promising him takeaway pizza (something never usually allowed) so long as he stays out of the way for the rest of the evening. Gawain complies a little too fast for Arthur's peace of mind, and he has to stop himself explaining to his five year old that he's not planning on propositioning Merlin.
It's a quiet meal followed by the sort of laughter that makes your sides hurt and leaves you lightheaded, all because they watch one of the artsy films Morgana has taken to leaving around the house.
Arthur isn't sure whether it's a hint or just Morgana being Morgana, but it gets rid of the tension he's spotted - now that he's paying attention to it, which affords him no little shame - between Merlin's shoulders. Whether it's the film or the four hours they spend talking afterwards, Arthur doesn't care to work out, but whichever it is has the desired result.
Merlin starts touching him again.
Gawain walks around with a smug air for days afterwards, and Arthur would tell him off except he's pretty sure he looks like that himself.
----
Valentines Day passes with a very quiet Arthur and a morose Gawain, who, when pressed, says he most certainly does not miss his mother, but wishes "Dad had someone to share today with, you know? Someone who'll love him properly."
Merlin swallows hard and distracts him with a Welsh lesson.
----
Then Easter rolls around, and with it a bruised Gawain and a pair of amused adults, although they do their best to hide it.
"You know, I remember a time when life wasn't interrupted at intervals by the most ridiculous situations ever." Merlin glances up from where he's dabbing antiseptic onto a nasty cut on Gawain's cheek and smiles at Arthur. "It's all your fault, you know."
"Oh, of course."
"Ow, Merlin, that hurt," complains Gawain. Merlin refocuses and concentrates on not dabbing too hard. "And it's not his fault, Dad. I was the one fighting."
"I know, which is the problem." Arthur hides his smile and glares at Gawain, who looks chagrined and stares at his feet as Merlin moves on to the broken skin on his knuckles. Merlin looks up through his eyelashes, aiming for reproachful but landing nearer to coy, and it takes Arthur's breath away for a moment.
"What does the letter say?"
Arthur blinks and rereads it as Merlin carefully bandages Gawain's hand. "That he and...another boy were caught fighting at lunchtime, and refused to tell the Headmistress why they were doing so when she called them to her office."
"Who was the other boy?" Gawain and Arthur share a glance that immediately makes Merlin suspicious.
"Who?"
"Merlin-"
"It was Mordred," interrupts Gawain, shooting a defiant look at his father. "He said some stuff about you that was horrible and obviously false, so I hit him."
"Gawain, you can't do that every time someone makes a joke about me being a manny. We've talked about this." The nickname for a male nanny had made Gawain laugh, at first, until Arthur had gently told him it was generally used as a derogative. Merlin isn't sure why Arthur had done that, but it had made Gawain fiercely defensive and gave Merlin a warm feeling for days afterwards.
They really have. Back during Gawain's first term, his affection for Merlin had developed a defensive streak that manifested after he endured one too many taunts about being looked after by a manny. It's nothing unusual, at least not for Gawain; Arthur often worries about how defensive he gets when someone makes a disparaging comment about Arthur himself, either concerning his failed marriage or his reputation for being a ruthless businessman.
Merlin sighs, sounding resigned, and sends Gawain off with instructions to ask for some Calpol if his bruises hurt too much. Arthur watches him go, battling between pride that his son can hold his own against a boy a year older than he is and concern about the alarming number of fights he's been getting into.
"We've been called in to see the Headmistress," Arthur says quietly. "She'll be there with Mordred, so you don't have to come if you don't want to."
"Don't be an ass," replies Merlin fiercely, "of course I'll be there."
Arthur's pretty sure he's blushing with happiness, and takes himself away to his study before Merlin notices.
----
If the thought of seeing Nimueh had been bad, and it had been, then actually being in the same room as her is almost more than Merlin can stand. He keeps Arthur as a barrier between them as much as possible, which is practically from the moment they walk in to the moment they leave because Arthur clearly knows how much Merlin hates her.
"Arthur Pendragon, lovely to meet you" are her opening words, accompanied by a lush smile. She sends a poisonous look Merlin's way, and he's pathetically comforted when Arthur shifts subtly closer.
The meeting is pretty bizarre, because Mordred is as precocious as Gawain and just as certain that he was in the right. For his part, Gawain shows no embarrassment when he explains why he had thrown the first punch, and he obviously sees the faint twin smirks on the face of his opponent and his opponent's mother because he flushes with anger and raises his voice.
They leave with Gawain on a warning and Mordred in detention, Nimueh icy with anger.
Merlin takes Gawain to stand by the car, making him repeat fencing terms and dancing patterns until he's calmer and not showing the signs of Pendragon rage that Merlin can tell just as easily in him as he can in Arthur. Nimueh has caught Arthur's arm, drawing him away to speak to him with an intent expression.
Arthur listens for a minute or two before shaking her hand off and stalking away, face as pale as Gawain's had been. The two boys glare at each other with mutual hatred, which under other circumstances would make Merlin laugh, and then they're finally away from Nimueh du Lac.
Merlin waits until Gawain is ensconced in his room tackling homework to ask Arthur what she'd said to him.
"More stuff about you," he answers shortly, clattering pans in a way that will surely make Cook yell at him when she arrives later.
Merlin sighs. "If you want me to leave, I can-"
"No!" Arthur's right in front of him with a speed he should be used to by now, but he still gasps a little and rocks when Arthur's hands close over his arms. "She was lying, okay, and I know she was, and if you ever talk about leaving again I'll hit you."
"Because that's a surefire way to stop me quitting." Merlin tries for sarcasm and ends up with something veering towards breathless, because Arthur is right there and saying he never wants Merlin to leave, practically.
He pulls away with a smile and a mention of organising Gawain's things for the morning, leaving in a hurry.
----
Merlin isn't sure when he became 'Merlin, Arthur's better half' instead of 'Merlin, Gawain's nanny', but he apparently has because to date six people have referred to him as such. That two of them are Gwen and Morgana is to be expected; that Uther, on only the second occasion he's met Merlin, is another is not expected.
It's Gawain's sixth birthday party, and from where he is in the dining room Merlin can hear him shrieking as he plays some sort of party game with his friends. It's one of those days you get in films, with perfect skies and the sort of heat that you know is languid even through a camera lens, oozing in through the french doors that lead out onto the patio from every room on the south side of the house.
Merlin has begged off participating in any more games for a while; he's got a nasty bruise on his hip from where Galahad had been a little too enthusiastic in his turn at the piñata. Clearing away the remains of the birthday lunch and replacing it with dessert is a much safer option, at least until Arthur wanders in.
Arthur's bright at the worst of times, but in the liquid sun he seems golden, Merlin's insistence that he set aside all work for the weekend making him look loose and relaxed. He's even bowled in an impromptu and entirely made-up game of cricket, and staged a mock duel with Lance to the delight of Gawain and his friends.
Merlin stares at him, Arthur catches his eye and oh, this is it, this is everything.
This is how it should be, the two of them in this house, taking care of Gawain and each other, balancing each others characters out.
Like two sides of a coin, thinks Merlin, and he grins suddenly. The voice belongs to the founder of the Albion Agency, a crusty old dragon who spends most of his time rambling on about destinies and Fate when he isn't finding people jobs.
Arthur grins back, warm and open and sidesteps a group of screaming children to join Merlin by the table.
"Having fun?"
"Oh yes. I live for cooking seemingly endless bags of chicken nuggets and making tray after tray of muffins for a load of kids who won't notice if they're burnt or not in their rush to get back out to the bouncy castle some idiot of a parent thought it'd be a good idea to get." He's trying to be normal, to joke and tease and stop Arthur from seeing how hopelessly in love Merlin is with him, because right now he can't seem to hide it away.
He sees it the moment Arthur gets it, a widening of blue, blue eyes that's followed by an incredulous smile that Merlin almost can't bring himself to understand.
Then Arthur's kissing him, mouth flavoured with cool strawberries; he's stolen some of the children's ice-cream, lips slightly sticky against Merlin's and tasting sugary sweet as their tongues slide together.
Merlin loops his arms behind Arthur's head and grins into the kiss, which makes it more of a nuzzle than a proper kiss, but coherent thought is fading into the background of murmured conversation between adults and the low but persistent sound of a game of tag being played out somewhere in the parkland.
"We've got twenty-five bedrooms, why are you kissing in the middle of the dining room?"
Arthur barely pulls away long enough to answer a weary but happy-sounding Gawain, appearing from a field (judging by the grass stains on his jeans) to interrupt what is possibly the best moment of Merlin's life - and Gwen will never hear him admit that because she will tell Morgana and they will mock him for eternity.
"Better get used to it, kid."
Merlin lifts his burning face from Arthur's neck to see Gawain's grinning face. "Can you fire him now Dad? Please?" Arthur chuckles, the vibrations against his chest making Merlin mostly forget to be suddenly worried.
"Merlin," says Arthur softly, leaning in to press kisses along his jawline, "you're fired."
"Yes!" shouts Gawain in the middle of Merlin's slight heart-attack and major confusion. He yells for one of his friends, a boy Merlin remembers asking Gawain earlier who he is. Gawain, unusually, had refrained from answering. Now he says, very loudly and with an unmistakable note of pride, "Perceval, meet Merlin. My dad's boyfriend."
"Oh," says Merlin faintly. Arthur looks at him with a mix of amusement and affection- no, love, and it's another one they share. Merlin just hadn't realised what it meant.
"Idiot."
"Prat."
There's only one way to end an argument like that, and it involved pretty much everyone, Gawain included, yelling at them to get a room.
They comply.
Well, there are twenty-five to choose from.