No One Else to Find (1/6)
Title: No One Else to Find
Pairing: Arthur/Merlin
Rating: R
Wordcount: approx 38,000
Summary: Modern AU, Arthur is in the closet and in denial of his homosexuality until he meets Merlin.
Written for this kinkme_merlin prompt.
Warnings: Homophobia (see prompt); some violence in later sections.
Part One
The first time Arthur sees him, he's standing in the wide church doorway, all messy hair and unlikely adolescent angles, like he doesn't know what to do with himself now the service has finished.
Arthur, on the other hand, knows very well what to do with himself. He's a Pendragon, after all, son of the main benefactor of the little village church that has grown from strength to strength though years of Pendragon fundraising and donations. The church has changed too. Arthur sometimes hears people say that it's changed from a welcoming place to somewhere ... less so ... but he doesn't hear that very often, or very loudly.
Arthur's always been a part of things here, but even though he doesn't know what it feels like to be an outsider, he can imagine, so he separates himself from his group of friends, walks over to the boy and taps him lightly on the shoulder.
'Hey, I'm Arthur. You new here?' he says.
He swallows heavily as the boy turns to face him. It's a familiar feeling, this bewildering flush of attraction, and one that he's used to pretending isn't there. He forces his eyes away from the boy's arms, and how they wrap, protectively, around his lean, narrow ribcage, and focuses back on what he's supposed to be doing.
'Yeah,' the boy says, 'I'm Merlin.' Then he smiles. It's a ridiculous, genuine grin, and Arthur gets the feeling that this is one battle with himself that might already have lost.
He can feel Uther's eyes on him, even though he's deep in conversation with Reverend Aredian, but he an Merlin fall into an easy chat anyway. It turns out that he's staying with his uncle for a few months. Arthur asks where he's going to school, and he doesn't even realise he's holding his breath until Merlin confirms that they're at the same place.
'I've never been to a church school before,' says Merlin. 'Uncle Gaius thinks it'll be alright, but ...'
'Dr Gaius?' Arthur says, and earns a sharp look from his father. 'Don't often see him here.'
Merlin laughs. 'Yeah, it's not really his thing, but, well, he thought that if I came along, I might get to know some people before school starts. What's it like there, anyway?'
'Alright,' says Arthur, neglecting to mention that his father has been Chair of Governors for as long as he can remember and he dictates the school's policy on pretty much everything. 'It's also the only one for miles,' he says, and tries not to stare too hard at the pale, graceful slope of Merlin's neck.
Merlin runs a hand through his hair. He looks around him, like he ought to be somewhere, and suddenly Arthur needs to do something, anything to stop him from leaving.
'Fancy a walk by the river?' Arthur says, and a grin unfolds across Merlin's face. 'A few of us go every week, after church,' he explains and sees Merlin's expression coalesce into something that looks a little like disappointment, but before Arthur has a chance to wonder about it, Merlin nods.
'Yeah, why not?' he says.
They catch the others up easily, and in no time Merlin has met everyone, and is learning their names and their interests and things Arthur doesn't know about them himself. They're all within a few years of age; Arthur is one of the older ones at seventeen; at sixteen, Merlin is somewhere in the middle.
The stab of jealousy that Arthur feels at how quickly Merlin fits in soon turns into cautious elation when, as they all head home, Merlin asks him if he can join them again next week.
'You don't need to ask,' Arthur says, punching him lightly on the arm. He tells himself it's a friendly gesture, but when his hand lingers against the warmth of Merlin's shirt a little too long, he panics that he's already given himself away.
Merlin looks down at Arthur's fingers and, his easy smile not faltering, back up to him again. Arthur drops his hand back to his side, apology ready, but Merlin speaks first: 'See you then, Arthur,' he says, and heads off, waving as he goes.
For the next few minutes, all Arthur can think of his how much he likes the sound of his name when Merlin says it.
They run into each other at school before the week is out, but the restless bustle and the small, but significant, difference in their ages allows for only the briefest of greetings.
A casual bump of shoulders, a half-friendly, half-tentative wave or two, and then the first week of the autumn term is over. Arthur finds himself wondering, and then hoping, if he'll see Merlin on Sunday. So we can catch up, he tells himself. See how he's settling in.
When Merlin sidles up to him after church that week, he feels nauseous with relief.
'You came back then?' he says, like an idiot.
'It takes more than the promise of hellfire and eternal damnation to scare me off,' Merlin says. He's smiling, but he lowers his voice when Reverend Aredian walks by. 'Besides, I don't have anything else to do today. You lot off to the river again?'
'Yeah,' Arthur says, and pure, unadulterated happiness starts to bubble away somewhere inside him. For a second there, he's almost scared by how good it feels.
Sundays become a regular thing, and Merlin seems content - eager, even - to be in Arthur's company. He's not quite like Arthur's other friends; where the others are frenetic and high-spirited, he has a quiet, determined energy; he's uncompromising, but he doesn't dominate the conversation like Gwaine or Sophia or Elena sometimes do, and his friendliness and sweetness - Arthur feels almost guilty when he puts a name to the latter quality - seems to make it easier for others to gravitate towards him.
There's something about him that Arthur finds calming - undemanding, almost - and the fact that Merlin seeks him out just as the other way around adds a sense of evenness and symmetry to their tentative friendship, and sets it apart from how he is with everyone else.
But that's not all of it; Arthur wishes that it was.
Arthur has long told himself that the way he feels when he stares at Percival's arms is just the same as when he glances at Sophia's breasts. He knows it's not true, but at least he can pretend it is, and if not to himself, then everyone else. He's become an expert at it, and his father's beliefs provide the perfect cover not to push his advantage on the few dates he absolutely cannot avoid.
And it's fine. Really, it is. It's amazing how appealing a life of someone else's choices can be when the alternative is unthinkable.
Except now Merlin's here, everything changes.
It takes a while - days turn into weeks and weeks turn into months - for Arthur to realise that what he feels around Merlin is more, even, than the furtive rush of desire and guilt he feels when he lets his eyes linger too long on Gwaine and Percival when they're playfighting, or how when he's alone he never, ever thinks of girls, no matter how much he wishes, for his father's sake, that he did.
He expects it to go the way it always has done before: a strong, burning attraction, lingering images he can't quite get out of his mind and finally, a few frantic, secretive wanks until it fades away into the background again.
But it doesn't, and he doesn't know what do about it. Worse still, he doesn't know if he wants to do anything about it.
'Who's that new boy at church?' Uther asks over breakfast one morning. Arthur suspects he knows already, and he's just testing him for reasons he'd rather now know about.
'Merlin?' Arthur says. 'He's Dr. Gaius' nephew; he's just here for a few months, I think.'
Uther nods, confirmation that he was just checking his facts. 'His mother was taken ill, I heard,' his father says. 'He'll be gone when she's well enough to go leave hospital.'
'That must be tough,' Arthur says, and regrets his words as soon as he sees the look Uther shoots him. Uther believes that bad things happen to bad people. It doesn't make any difference what it is: illness, accident, premeditated murder; as far as Uther's concerned, they had it coming to them. By his reckoning, Merlin and his mum would have had it coming too.
Arthur is used to Uther holding up the blessings of his own virtuous life as proof of what happens to good people. That his mother, who died whilst giving birth to him, is always carefully edited out of this picture, is a point that hasn't escaped him. Uther rarely speaks of her and Arthur knows better than to broach the subject.
When he was much younger, he thought the reason for his father's silence must be because her was death too hard to talk about. These days, he wonders if it was simply because Uther deems her existence, and subsequent demise, too inconvenient a challenge to his world view. Sometimes, Arthur wonders what Uther would do if he discovered that his own son doesn't quite fit with what he thinks is right and good. The thought never fails to makes him shiver.
One afternoon, on their way home after school, he and Merlin stop off at a newsagent for some chocolate. Arthur knows that Uther will want to know why he's late, but it's a rare, sunny November day, and Merlin wants to go to the park. 'Come on, it might be the last sun we see until, well, ages,' he says, pulling Arthur along with him.
'That's the most unconvincing argument ever,' says Arthur, squinting in the pale, half-hearted sunlight, but he joins him on the grass anyway.
'What happened to your mother?' Arthur asks. It's taken him weeks to say anything, unsure of how to broach the subject, wary because of the wounds it might open up for both of them. 'You talk about her, but you live with Gaius.'
'She was in an accident,' Merlin says, his voice getting small and tight. 'Last summer. She was driving. There ... there was another car. She's still in hospital.'
'Must have been some accident,' Arthur says.
'It was,' says Merlin, swiping at his eyes with his hand. 'It'll take time, but she'll be okay, I think. Sometimes it feels like I'll be waiting forever.'
'I'm sorry,' Arthur says and, without thinking about it, he takes Merlin's damp fingers and covers them with his own. They're sitting so close they're almost leaning into one other, so when Merlin drops his head against Arthur's shoulder, Arthur simply wraps an arm around him, and they stay like that until he can't ignore the missed calls from Uther anymore.
The following week, Reverend Aredian gives a sermon on what he terms as sexual deviance. Arthur doesn't have to look to know that his father will be nodding along to every word. He starts to fidget, a stranger in his own skin, as he listens to the reverend's increasingly strident denouncements. He's more than familiar with the subject matter; Uther has delivered the same lecture countless times at home. It's one of the few occasions when he will talk about Arthur's mother, though only as a peripheral character in a tale of the perils of moral turpitude.
Although Arthur can appreciate that his father needs to make sense of what happened, privately he finds it unlikely that the fact that his mother's midwife was in a relationship with another woman was any sort of contributing factor to her death. He's just sorry that the explanation that Reverend Aredian provided Uther with turned his father into the person he is today.
His relief, when the sermon ends, and they can finally all head down to the river, lasts about as long as it takes for him to catch sight of Merlin. Arthur instigates a game of football that he knows Merlin won't want to join, and they play for nearly an hour. Afterwards, he joins the others and drops down onto the grass. The game should have cleared his head, but Aredian's words - terrifying and personal - are still ringing in his ears, and Arthur finds that he's not quite ready to meet Merlin's eyes.
Merlin seems to take the hint, and strikes up a conversation with Morgana and Leon, but when Arthur hears them making plans to go to the cinema later that week, he finds himself walking over when he hears Morgana and Leon decide to call it a day.
'Do you think Reverend Aredian's right?' Merlin says, when the others have gone, leaving them sitting under the shade of a weeping willow.
Arthur shifts uncomfortably; he has never felt more transparent. He knows what the answer to the question should be, but yet he finds he can't get the words out.
'I don't know,' he says. He can feel Merlin's eyes on him, but if he looks over to meet them, he's scared he might lose whatever tenuous control he has of the conversation and say something he'll regret. 'It's what my father believes,' he says, finally.
Merlin doesn't reply, just keeps picking at a few blades of grass and Arthur, who curses himself - almost as the words leave his mouth - for being so obvious, says: 'What do you think?'
'You really want to know?' says Merlin. Arthur has never heard him so cautious before so he nods and smiles in encouragement. 'Alright then,' says Merlin, 'I think Aredian's wrong, and I hate it that he's making other people think they're wrong because of it.'
'Oh,' says Arthur. He's never felt so simultaneously relieved and terrified in his life.
'Does this mean we aren't friends anymore?' Merlin asks. He sounds so nervous that when Arthur sees his grass-stained fingers tapping away on the ground, he wishes he could take them in his own. But he can't. Not today.
Instead, he settles for a shake of his head and, feeling his heart pounding, he takes a deep breath. 'Does this mean I won't see you on Sundays anymore?'
'No,' Merlin says. 'I like this part, at least. Anyway, you look like you could use the support.'
Arthur shrugs and punches him lightly on the shoulder. 'Thanks,' he says.
It's not an admission, exactly, but it might as well be.
Sometimes, when Uther has a bit too much to drink, he tells Arthur that he's all he's got and he's a lucky man to have a son that he can be so proud of.
Arthur finds it hard to reconcile this Uther to the other, public one that he sees most of the time, but it's not because he doesn't understand, it's because he understands too much. It would be easier, he sometimes thinks, if he didn't know Uther had vulnerabilities, if he couldn't see where one persona bled into the other. He often thinks that if he understood Uther just a little less, making him happy wouldn't matter as much as it did.
Arthur knows that Uther and Gaius were friends before he was born, but for as long as he can remember, they haven't got along. It's an odd sort of situation. Uther pretty much runs things in the village the same way as he runs his business. It's a surprise, really, that Gaius is still there.
For the most part Uther just pretends that Gaius doesn't exist and mostly, it's not hard for him to do that since Uther sees a private doctor and Gaius has nothing to do with the church (He thinks it's all rubbish, Merlin whispered to him, a few days after Aredian's hellish sermon. If I told him what the Reverend says to us, I don’t think he'd let me go back.).
They do, occasionally, clash over village politics. Both men have been on the council for years, and sometimes their differences of opinion go on for weeks. This year, it's over plans for the New Year's celebration. Uther wants to use the event to promote what he terms as traditional family values. Gaius doesn't feel quite the same way and his refusal to Uther's plans, even though he has the support of all the other councillors, angers Uther the longer it goes on.
He and Arthur end up driving to Gaius' cottage one evening. Uther tells Arthur to wait outside in the car, and he marches in to speak to Gaius. Not long after the first voices are raised, Merlin slips out of a side door and lets himself into the car.
'Hey, I thought you could use this,' Merlin says, and hands him a chocolate brownie.
'Thanks,' says Arthur. 'Have they killed each other yet? '
'They're still working on it,' says Merlin. 'Actually, they're arguing over you now.'
'Me?' says Arthur, frowning; Gaius hardly knows him. 'I thought this was about Uther wanting to leave some of his mad leaflets out at the New Year's party.'
'Yeah,' says Merlin, and he looks over at Arthur. 'Well it started off like that, and then the next minute Gaius is going on about Uther and all the lobbying he does these days.'
Arthur doesn't see how this would affect him, but he sort of knows what Merlin is talking about. He's overheard Reverend Aredian and Uther enough times, discussing how they might be able to use Uther's money and profile to influence changes in the law.
'He's not powerful enough for that,' Arthur says. 'The business is doing okay, but, well, you know what his agenda's going to be. He'd never get anywhere.'
'That's the bit that Gaius really didn't like,' Merlin says quietly. 'He's got wind that the plan is for you to take over the reins; Uther thinks that you'd be a more appealing public face for his, er, you know, views.'
Arthur suppresses the urge to let his head fall into his hands. 'Fucking perfect,' he says. Uther has only broadly pushed him in the direction of business and politics, so he had hoped he might be allowed to exercise a little control over his choice of career. It doesn't look like that's the case anymore.
'You don't have to, you know,' Merlin says, and places a tentative hand on Arthur's shoulder.
Arthur feels his hands ball up into fists. He doesn't know how to begin to explain that, actually, he really, really does have to, but then the voices in the house get louder, followed by silence, and then a door slams.
'Guess that's my cue to go then,' says Merlin, but he pauses to give Arthur a quick, final squeeze to the shoulder before he lets himself out of the car.
It doesn't seem like any time at all until it's the last day of term, and they're heading out of the school gate with Morgana, Elena and a couple of their friends. Arthur is dreading the holidays; he still doesn't see Merlin much during the week, but he's grown used to him being there. It's only now, when it's about to be taken away, that he realises exactly how much his presence is coming to mean to him.
'What are you doing for New Years?' Arthur asks, as they fall back, momentarily, from the others.
'Nothing, probably,' Merlin says, and they walk along side by side, elbows almost touching. 'What about you?'
Elena who is, Arthur always thinks, much more stable on a horse, leans back and nearly goes flying in her effort to join their conversation. 'Why don't you come to the village hall with us, if you've got nothing better to do?' she says, slipping between him and Merlin, and linking arms with both of them. 'It's not the most exciting thing in the world, but lucky Arthur gets to take me every year.'
'Elena's your date?' Merlin asks, unlinking his arm, and looking at Arthur with a little frown creasing his forehead.
'No,' says Arthur at the same time as Elena says: 'Yes,' and lets out a little giggle.
Arthur opens his mouth to explain, but before he can get anywhere Merlin takes a step back, hitching his school bag firmly across his shoulder.
'Oh,' says Merlin. 'I didn't realise. Well, okay. I'd better be going now, I suppose.'
'It'll be nice if Merlin tags along too, won't it?' says Elena, as Merlin hurtles away from them. 'It's not like we're on a real date or anything, is it?'
Arthur rolls his eyes; he's known Elena from when they were babies, and she's always been oblivious to most of what goes on around her. As he watches Merlin practically fly off down the road, part of him is desperate to follow, but it's quickly overruled by another, more familiar part of him that always wins when he's unsure or hesitant. You've already drawn enough attention to yourself, the other voice says, and, reluctantly, he turns his attention back to Elena.
New Year's Eve is unremarkable, and Arthur and Elena leave the village hall shortly after midnight. She has an early start at the stables and is keen to make a move. Arthur, who has spent most of the night watching the door in the unlikely event Merlin decides to show, has no wish to stay any longer than absolutely necessary.
He brings Elena straight back to the Godwyn's, and once he sees that she's safely indoors, he goes for a drive. He's managed to keep this sliver of time after their occasional not-quite-dates to himself for a while now. Uther thinks he knows what Arthur and Elena are doing, so he rarely questions him over little lateness here and there, and Arthur makes sure he's never so long gone that Uther's suspicion is aroused.
Usually, Arthur drives until he finds somewhere quiet, and sits there, soaking up the silence and the few precious minutes where he can just feel like himself, and not the person he needs to be for everybody else. It's a pressure that he doesn't often get to relieve himself of, and he has mixed feelings about these times, needing the freedom and the solitude, but dreading the inevitable point where he has to put his key back into the ignition and head home.
Tonight, he finds himself outside Gaius' cottage. It's stupid, he knows, but he can't really think of where else he'd rather be. The light's on inside, and before he has time to overthink it, he gets out of the car, walks up the path and knocks at the door.
Merlin answers, yawning. He blinks a couple of times and tries, unsuccessfully, to smooth out his ruffled hair.
'Arthur?' he says, his smile a touch more forced than Arthur had hoped for.
'Sorry,' Arthur says. 'I woke you up. I should go.'
'No, no, come in,' says Merlin, pulling him into the cottage by both hands. 'I just drifted off for a few minutes. Gaius is still out, doing whatever it is he does; I was just about to make some tea.'
'Sounds good,' says Arthur, and when Merlin smiles back at him, he's almost got himself convinced himself that showing up, unannounced, in the middle of the night, isn't such a rash move after all.
Feeling faintly absurd in his tuxedo, Arthur clears a space on the long bench beside the kitchen table and watches Merlin as he drifts around, plucking cups and spoons from the chaos. It strikes him, suddenly, that he would never do something like this at home. He and Uther rarely have time for casual conversation, and when they do, he always makes sure Arthur isn't at a loose end for long.
'Here,' says Merlin, setting a cup down in front of him. He moves a stack of medical journals to the floor, clearing a space to sit alongside Arthur, their thighs brushing briefly as he settles in, one leg folded under itself. 'So,' he says, his eye briefly darting up to meet Arthur's. 'Good night?'
'Merlin,' Arthur says. 'About Elena ...'
'You don't need to explain how it is,' Merlin says, looking studiously at his tea, his fingers curled tightly around the cup.
'But there isn't anything to explain,' Arthur says. 'There's nothing between me and Elena. It's just ... we've always gone to these things together. It's easier that way.'
'Oh,' Merlin says, still focused on his cup. 'Easier, how?'
Easier than pretending with someone who isn't in on it, Arthur thinks. A lot fucking easier than taking someone I actually want to go with.
What he actually says is: 'It's no big deal, Merlin. It keeps our fathers off our backs.'
'I see.' Merlin presses his lips together, his tea still, apparently, the most interesting thing he's ever seen. 'Well, as pleased as I am that both your fathers are happy, if it's not a big deal, I don't know why you needed to come here and tell me that right now.'
Arthur thinks he's used to Merlin's frankness but he realises, as the words leave his mouth, that he is the one subject that has never come under the full force of his friend's scrutiny. It's unexpected, this sudden prodding, like an invasion, and he blusters a bit, unsure of where this is going. He settles for a nudge to Merlin's ribs - familiar ground - and a grin, though it's probably far too weak. 'It's your fault, anyway,' Arthur says. 'You were the one acting weird about Elena and me at the end of term.'
'Oh, right,' says Merlin. He sets his cup down and gives Arthur a wide, sceptical grin. 'Okay. Just so I've got this bit right - you and Elena pretend to date though you have absolutely no interest in each other, yet I'm the one with the weird behaviour?'
'Fuck it, Merlin, you were acting strange,' Arthur says. He doesn't mean to snap but he can feel himself losing what little control he has of the conversation.
'No, I wasn't,' says Merlin. There's something defiant about the way he's looking at Arthur that's at odds with his voice, which sounds strained and raw.
'Come on,' Arthur says. It's probably the wrong thing to do, but he goes for a light, friendly punch on the arm anyway. 'You were. It's not as if you wanted me as your date, is it? That would have been ridiculous.'
'Completely,' says Merlin, half to himself. 'I'd have to be mad to want a thing like that.'
'Yeah, insane,' says Arthur, relieved that Merlin is joking around now. 'Thanks for putting the thought in my head of us as a couple, though,' he says, and Merlin, mid-sip, nearly chokes on his tea.
'Like you said,' Merlin says softly, when he's composed himself. 'Ridiculous.'
'Yeah,' says Arthur, all bravado now they're back onto something less personal, 'so why were you so off with me, then? Come on Merlin, you're not normally one to hold back.'
Merlin looks away, and Arthur remembers that the last time he saw uncertainty on his face, was when he asked Merlin what he really thought about Reverend Aredian's sermon. This time, though, it's tinged with something more self-conscious. 'I'm sorry,' Merlin says, with a short laugh. 'Maybe I was a bit jealous. Not that I've any right to be, I know. It's just ... we're friends, and ... I know you, and I can see how unhappy it makes you when you pretend.'
'Pretend about what?' Arthur says, after a deep breath.
'You know what.' Merlin says, his voice getting quieter and quieter. 'You and Elena. It's all just for show. It's all just to hide that you're gay.'
Arthur's mind starts to spin. They've danced around this before, but putting it into words is different. Now that it feels like there might be an alternative, he doesn't know if he does want to stop pretending, even just to one person. All he wants to do now, really, is leave; it's taking all his willpower not to stand up and end this conversation.
'Arthur,' Merlin says. He sounds like he's miles away. 'Arthur, you're shaking.'
'Am bloody not,' he says. But he is, and even though he expects Merlin to call him on his bullshit again, instead he feels an arm slip around him. When the silence is broken by a raw, choked back sob, it takes a second to realise that the sound has come from him.
Merlin pulls him closer, and Arthur leans against him, relaxing bit by bit until, finally, he lets his arm fall against Merlin's waist. He feels Merlin take a deep, shuddering breath and suddenly he's very aware of how close his lips are to Merlin's neck, and how his hand, buried in the soft material of Merlin's t-shirt is only a handful of fibres away from warm, soft skin.
He knows that they shouldn't even be this close, but he lifts his head a fraction anyway, so his lips brush against Merlin's neck. Merlin tenses at first, the play of muscles underneath his skin making it look almost as if he's resisting something, but he doesn't push Arthur away, not even when, emboldened by Merlin's unspoken encouragement, he starts to move up the long column of his throat, tasting and inhaling the scent of the pale skin that he's only ever allowed himself to look at before.
'Arthur ... ' Merlin says. He's still breathing unsteadily. 'Are you sure this is a good idea?'
Arthur stops dead still; he can feel the heat creeping over his face already. 'You said you were jealous. I thought ...'
'Arthur?'
'Sorry,' says Arthur, standing up. 'Obviously, I've made a huge mistake. I should go.'
But before he can get away, Merlin grabs hold of his hands and pulls him back onto the bench. Now that they're facing each other again, he can see that although Merlin is nervous and maybe a little surprised, he doesn't seem horrified or disturbed or any of the other reactions Arthur was so ready to attribute to him seconds earlier.
'You haven't got anything wrong,' he says, rubbing his fingers over Arthur's rigid hands. 'Not if this is about me wanting you. But I can see how much you hate yourself sometimes, and I don't want to make it worse. I don't want you to do something you'll look back on and regret.'
'Oh, so you're a mind reader now?' Arthur says, forcing out a faintly bitter smile. 'Is there anything else I need to know about myself, or is that is for tonight?'
Merlin pauses, like he's trying to collect his thoughts. 'I've been through this,' he says. 'I was ready for how I was going to feel, but you're not. You still want to be what Uther wants you to be.'
'Hang on,' says Arthur, eyebrow raised. 'What do you mean you've been through this? Do you mean people know you're ...?'
'Gay?' says Merlin. 'You are allowed to say it, you know. And yes, my mum knows, and a few of my friends back home. What I'm saying is, it was a huge thing for me and I knew I had people to support me. People I could talk to. But it's not the same for you.'
'No, it's not,' Arthur says. 'But you're here aren't you?'
And then he remembers.
'Not forever,' says Merlin, and the little hitch in his voice makes Arthur ache.
Merlin seems to understand that the last thing Arthur wants right now is comfort or sympathy or anything that will make him feel more raw than he already does. Instead, he gets up and goes to the kitchen, and returns with what appears to be a bottle of champagne.
'Gaius left it out earlier,' Merlin says, laughing at Arthur's bemused expression, and sets the bottle on the table as if the last five minutes haven't happened. 'For some reason I think he didn't believe I hadn't got plans. Maybe we can, you know, toast your and Elena's fake relationship or something.'
'Idiot,' says Arthur, but he can't keep the fondness from his voice. 'Alright,' he says, 'but only because I want to see if you can open one of those things.'
Merlin laughs again and Arthur can't help his eyes being drawn back to his neck, so he closes them and focuses on convincing himself of the wisdom of Merlin's earlier words.
'You look a bit uncomfortable there,' Merlin says, laying his fingers briefly over Arthur's hands, 'let's move.'
Arthur wants to protest that he doesn't need looking after but he settles on rolling his eyes at Merlin's retreating figure before moving to the nearby couch. To his surprise, he hears a faint popping sound and then Merlin reappears, holding two mugs, looking triumphant. Even though there's more space now, he still sits down side by side with Arthur.
'It must be hard for you, living here,' Arthur says, setting his mug down on the table next to Merlin's. He doesn't really feel like drinking. 'What with the Reverend and everything.'
'It's not as if I could go anywhere else,' Merlin says. 'My Dad's been gone for years, and he didn't really have any family. Gaius is all mum has. Anyway,' he says, giving Arthur a quick, sidelong glance, 'it's not all bad.'
'Oh yeah?' Arthur says.
'Yeah,' says Merlin. 'There's this boy ...'
'Really, Merlin?' Arthur says. 'And does Gwaine know how you feel about him?'
He isn't expecting the cushion that connects, suddenly, with the side of his head, and the exasperated 'Shut up, Arthur,' that follows, but he reacts without thinking, and seconds later he has Merlin pressed into the couch, their faces only inches apart. They've been just as near to one another before but, Arthur realises, never this close.
When Merlin looks up at him and licks his lips, Arthur nearly loses it. He bites down a moan, but it comes out anyway, a rough, strangled gasp. He knows he should shut his eyes or move away. Anything to stop him wanting this so much, but he doesn't and finds himself staring into Merlin's questioning eyes.
'I want you,' Arthur says, and something in his stomach twists and aches at the blunt admission. He knows, theoretically, it should make sense, to hold back, but then Merlin shifts underneath him and he discovers, as his thigh presses against Merlin's groin, that he's not the only one having second thoughts.
'If you're waiting for me to make the first move, you'll be here a long time,' says Merlin.
'As if I'd make a move on you,' Arthur says, though he almost has to gasp the words out.
Merlin just smiles. His eyes are dark and pensive as he moves a hand to stroke through Arthur's hair, his fingers stopping just above the nape of his neck. There's no pressure to his hand, really, and it's not like Merlin's pushing him one way or another, but Arthur can't ignore his instinct a moment longer.
He cups Merlin's cheek and lets his thumb graze against the contours of his face, taking in the contrasting sensations of soft skin and light stubble, and then goes back to trace a haphazard line from his temple, swiping across a sharp cheekbone, and then back down along the line of his jaw.
Eventually, he reaches Merlin's mouth. His breath catches; he can't quite bring himself to believe that he's allowed to do this. Slowly, he traces over Merlin's lips, softly pressing his thumb against the fleshy plumpness. When Merlin runs his tongue over Arthur's thumb and sucks it briefly into his mouth, the sensation is almost too much to bear. He closes his eyes and lets himself feel how much he wants this and then finally, finally, he leans down and kisses him.
During the second or two it takes for Merlin to respond, the feeling of wanting to run comes back again, but it's gone as soon as Arthur feels Merlin's lips pushing back against his. His mouth opens to Arthur tantalisingly slowly, like he's drawing him in piece by piece. It's another eternity before Arthur feels the tentative slide of Merlin's tongue, and then his own shy, answering stroke.
Only then does Arthur give himself permission to let go. After that it's as if time speeds up, and everything's frantic and intense and on the edge of too much. Merlin hitches his leg up around Arthur's waist, pulling him even closer but, possessed by a sudden need to see him, Arthur leans back. Merlin is very still, but a slow flush is creeping up his neck and his breath is coming faster, lips parting slightly into a smile as he pulls Arthur back to him.
'Okay?' he whispers, his lips touching Arthur's as he speaks. Arthur kisses him again, briefly this time, and lays his head against Merlin's shoulder.
'Perfect,' he says, and kisses him again, briefly this time. He lays his head against Merlin's chest, wanting to listen for his heartbeat, but just as he's trying to remember the last time he felt this good, he's interrupted by the unmistakeable sound of a key in the front door.
'Shit,' Arthur says, on his feet in an instant.
'Gaius,' Merlin says, sitting up and stretching lazily. 'Don't worry, he won't say anything.'
Arthur wants to tell him that isn't the point, but at that moment the phone in his trouser pocket starts to vibrate. He knows who it is without having to look.
With about as much regret as he's felt about anything, he starts to straighten his shirt.
'Arthur?' Merlin says. 'It's okay, honestly.'
'It's not that,' Arthur says. 'It's Uther. I'm sorry, I have to go.'
Merlin presses a quick kiss to his lips, and Arthur slips out through the kitchen door, his mouth still tingling. As he drives back he realises that he still can't remember a time when he's felt better than this.
When he pulls into his own driveway and sees the light on. Uther is still up. Fear hits him like a punch to the guts, and he can't remember feeling any worse.
Uther is waiting in the hallway for him when he gets in. He doesn't say anything at first, just looks him up and down slowly, before issuing a curt goodnight. Arthur watches as his father disappears up the stairs, at a loss for what to think, let alone say.
It feels worse, in a way, than if Uther had demanded to know where he'd been. He's edgier now, knowing that although his transgression hasn't been addressed, it's been noted, and it won't be forgotten.
Arthur knows he might as well forget sleep for a while. He goes into the kitchen, and as he sits alone at the table, something ugly takes hold of him and he feels his hands start to shake. He tries to fight it. He doesn't want to be angry with Uther, who's spent his life taking care of him. Still, he can't help resenting how easily his father can do this; how he can turn something that was starting to feel a little bit brilliant into something that he feels ashamed of, with just a look and a word.
Part Two
Pairing: Arthur/Merlin
Rating: R
Wordcount: approx 38,000
Summary: Modern AU, Arthur is in the closet and in denial of his homosexuality until he meets Merlin.
Written for this kinkme_merlin prompt.
Warnings: Homophobia (see prompt); some violence in later sections.
Part One
The first time Arthur sees him, he's standing in the wide church doorway, all messy hair and unlikely adolescent angles, like he doesn't know what to do with himself now the service has finished.
Arthur, on the other hand, knows very well what to do with himself. He's a Pendragon, after all, son of the main benefactor of the little village church that has grown from strength to strength though years of Pendragon fundraising and donations. The church has changed too. Arthur sometimes hears people say that it's changed from a welcoming place to somewhere ... less so ... but he doesn't hear that very often, or very loudly.
Arthur's always been a part of things here, but even though he doesn't know what it feels like to be an outsider, he can imagine, so he separates himself from his group of friends, walks over to the boy and taps him lightly on the shoulder.
'Hey, I'm Arthur. You new here?' he says.
He swallows heavily as the boy turns to face him. It's a familiar feeling, this bewildering flush of attraction, and one that he's used to pretending isn't there. He forces his eyes away from the boy's arms, and how they wrap, protectively, around his lean, narrow ribcage, and focuses back on what he's supposed to be doing.
'Yeah,' the boy says, 'I'm Merlin.' Then he smiles. It's a ridiculous, genuine grin, and Arthur gets the feeling that this is one battle with himself that might already have lost.
He can feel Uther's eyes on him, even though he's deep in conversation with Reverend Aredian, but he an Merlin fall into an easy chat anyway. It turns out that he's staying with his uncle for a few months. Arthur asks where he's going to school, and he doesn't even realise he's holding his breath until Merlin confirms that they're at the same place.
'I've never been to a church school before,' says Merlin. 'Uncle Gaius thinks it'll be alright, but ...'
'Dr Gaius?' Arthur says, and earns a sharp look from his father. 'Don't often see him here.'
Merlin laughs. 'Yeah, it's not really his thing, but, well, he thought that if I came along, I might get to know some people before school starts. What's it like there, anyway?'
'Alright,' says Arthur, neglecting to mention that his father has been Chair of Governors for as long as he can remember and he dictates the school's policy on pretty much everything. 'It's also the only one for miles,' he says, and tries not to stare too hard at the pale, graceful slope of Merlin's neck.
Merlin runs a hand through his hair. He looks around him, like he ought to be somewhere, and suddenly Arthur needs to do something, anything to stop him from leaving.
'Fancy a walk by the river?' Arthur says, and a grin unfolds across Merlin's face. 'A few of us go every week, after church,' he explains and sees Merlin's expression coalesce into something that looks a little like disappointment, but before Arthur has a chance to wonder about it, Merlin nods.
'Yeah, why not?' he says.
They catch the others up easily, and in no time Merlin has met everyone, and is learning their names and their interests and things Arthur doesn't know about them himself. They're all within a few years of age; Arthur is one of the older ones at seventeen; at sixteen, Merlin is somewhere in the middle.
The stab of jealousy that Arthur feels at how quickly Merlin fits in soon turns into cautious elation when, as they all head home, Merlin asks him if he can join them again next week.
'You don't need to ask,' Arthur says, punching him lightly on the arm. He tells himself it's a friendly gesture, but when his hand lingers against the warmth of Merlin's shirt a little too long, he panics that he's already given himself away.
Merlin looks down at Arthur's fingers and, his easy smile not faltering, back up to him again. Arthur drops his hand back to his side, apology ready, but Merlin speaks first: 'See you then, Arthur,' he says, and heads off, waving as he goes.
For the next few minutes, all Arthur can think of his how much he likes the sound of his name when Merlin says it.
They run into each other at school before the week is out, but the restless bustle and the small, but significant, difference in their ages allows for only the briefest of greetings.
A casual bump of shoulders, a half-friendly, half-tentative wave or two, and then the first week of the autumn term is over. Arthur finds himself wondering, and then hoping, if he'll see Merlin on Sunday. So we can catch up, he tells himself. See how he's settling in.
When Merlin sidles up to him after church that week, he feels nauseous with relief.
'You came back then?' he says, like an idiot.
'It takes more than the promise of hellfire and eternal damnation to scare me off,' Merlin says. He's smiling, but he lowers his voice when Reverend Aredian walks by. 'Besides, I don't have anything else to do today. You lot off to the river again?'
'Yeah,' Arthur says, and pure, unadulterated happiness starts to bubble away somewhere inside him. For a second there, he's almost scared by how good it feels.
Sundays become a regular thing, and Merlin seems content - eager, even - to be in Arthur's company. He's not quite like Arthur's other friends; where the others are frenetic and high-spirited, he has a quiet, determined energy; he's uncompromising, but he doesn't dominate the conversation like Gwaine or Sophia or Elena sometimes do, and his friendliness and sweetness - Arthur feels almost guilty when he puts a name to the latter quality - seems to make it easier for others to gravitate towards him.
There's something about him that Arthur finds calming - undemanding, almost - and the fact that Merlin seeks him out just as the other way around adds a sense of evenness and symmetry to their tentative friendship, and sets it apart from how he is with everyone else.
But that's not all of it; Arthur wishes that it was.
Arthur has long told himself that the way he feels when he stares at Percival's arms is just the same as when he glances at Sophia's breasts. He knows it's not true, but at least he can pretend it is, and if not to himself, then everyone else. He's become an expert at it, and his father's beliefs provide the perfect cover not to push his advantage on the few dates he absolutely cannot avoid.
And it's fine. Really, it is. It's amazing how appealing a life of someone else's choices can be when the alternative is unthinkable.
Except now Merlin's here, everything changes.
It takes a while - days turn into weeks and weeks turn into months - for Arthur to realise that what he feels around Merlin is more, even, than the furtive rush of desire and guilt he feels when he lets his eyes linger too long on Gwaine and Percival when they're playfighting, or how when he's alone he never, ever thinks of girls, no matter how much he wishes, for his father's sake, that he did.
He expects it to go the way it always has done before: a strong, burning attraction, lingering images he can't quite get out of his mind and finally, a few frantic, secretive wanks until it fades away into the background again.
But it doesn't, and he doesn't know what do about it. Worse still, he doesn't know if he wants to do anything about it.
'Who's that new boy at church?' Uther asks over breakfast one morning. Arthur suspects he knows already, and he's just testing him for reasons he'd rather now know about.
'Merlin?' Arthur says. 'He's Dr. Gaius' nephew; he's just here for a few months, I think.'
Uther nods, confirmation that he was just checking his facts. 'His mother was taken ill, I heard,' his father says. 'He'll be gone when she's well enough to go leave hospital.'
'That must be tough,' Arthur says, and regrets his words as soon as he sees the look Uther shoots him. Uther believes that bad things happen to bad people. It doesn't make any difference what it is: illness, accident, premeditated murder; as far as Uther's concerned, they had it coming to them. By his reckoning, Merlin and his mum would have had it coming too.
Arthur is used to Uther holding up the blessings of his own virtuous life as proof of what happens to good people. That his mother, who died whilst giving birth to him, is always carefully edited out of this picture, is a point that hasn't escaped him. Uther rarely speaks of her and Arthur knows better than to broach the subject.
When he was much younger, he thought the reason for his father's silence must be because her was death too hard to talk about. These days, he wonders if it was simply because Uther deems her existence, and subsequent demise, too inconvenient a challenge to his world view. Sometimes, Arthur wonders what Uther would do if he discovered that his own son doesn't quite fit with what he thinks is right and good. The thought never fails to makes him shiver.
One afternoon, on their way home after school, he and Merlin stop off at a newsagent for some chocolate. Arthur knows that Uther will want to know why he's late, but it's a rare, sunny November day, and Merlin wants to go to the park. 'Come on, it might be the last sun we see until, well, ages,' he says, pulling Arthur along with him.
'That's the most unconvincing argument ever,' says Arthur, squinting in the pale, half-hearted sunlight, but he joins him on the grass anyway.
'What happened to your mother?' Arthur asks. It's taken him weeks to say anything, unsure of how to broach the subject, wary because of the wounds it might open up for both of them. 'You talk about her, but you live with Gaius.'
'She was in an accident,' Merlin says, his voice getting small and tight. 'Last summer. She was driving. There ... there was another car. She's still in hospital.'
'Must have been some accident,' Arthur says.
'It was,' says Merlin, swiping at his eyes with his hand. 'It'll take time, but she'll be okay, I think. Sometimes it feels like I'll be waiting forever.'
'I'm sorry,' Arthur says and, without thinking about it, he takes Merlin's damp fingers and covers them with his own. They're sitting so close they're almost leaning into one other, so when Merlin drops his head against Arthur's shoulder, Arthur simply wraps an arm around him, and they stay like that until he can't ignore the missed calls from Uther anymore.
The following week, Reverend Aredian gives a sermon on what he terms as sexual deviance. Arthur doesn't have to look to know that his father will be nodding along to every word. He starts to fidget, a stranger in his own skin, as he listens to the reverend's increasingly strident denouncements. He's more than familiar with the subject matter; Uther has delivered the same lecture countless times at home. It's one of the few occasions when he will talk about Arthur's mother, though only as a peripheral character in a tale of the perils of moral turpitude.
Although Arthur can appreciate that his father needs to make sense of what happened, privately he finds it unlikely that the fact that his mother's midwife was in a relationship with another woman was any sort of contributing factor to her death. He's just sorry that the explanation that Reverend Aredian provided Uther with turned his father into the person he is today.
His relief, when the sermon ends, and they can finally all head down to the river, lasts about as long as it takes for him to catch sight of Merlin. Arthur instigates a game of football that he knows Merlin won't want to join, and they play for nearly an hour. Afterwards, he joins the others and drops down onto the grass. The game should have cleared his head, but Aredian's words - terrifying and personal - are still ringing in his ears, and Arthur finds that he's not quite ready to meet Merlin's eyes.
Merlin seems to take the hint, and strikes up a conversation with Morgana and Leon, but when Arthur hears them making plans to go to the cinema later that week, he finds himself walking over when he hears Morgana and Leon decide to call it a day.
'Do you think Reverend Aredian's right?' Merlin says, when the others have gone, leaving them sitting under the shade of a weeping willow.
Arthur shifts uncomfortably; he has never felt more transparent. He knows what the answer to the question should be, but yet he finds he can't get the words out.
'I don't know,' he says. He can feel Merlin's eyes on him, but if he looks over to meet them, he's scared he might lose whatever tenuous control he has of the conversation and say something he'll regret. 'It's what my father believes,' he says, finally.
Merlin doesn't reply, just keeps picking at a few blades of grass and Arthur, who curses himself - almost as the words leave his mouth - for being so obvious, says: 'What do you think?'
'You really want to know?' says Merlin. Arthur has never heard him so cautious before so he nods and smiles in encouragement. 'Alright then,' says Merlin, 'I think Aredian's wrong, and I hate it that he's making other people think they're wrong because of it.'
'Oh,' says Arthur. He's never felt so simultaneously relieved and terrified in his life.
'Does this mean we aren't friends anymore?' Merlin asks. He sounds so nervous that when Arthur sees his grass-stained fingers tapping away on the ground, he wishes he could take them in his own. But he can't. Not today.
Instead, he settles for a shake of his head and, feeling his heart pounding, he takes a deep breath. 'Does this mean I won't see you on Sundays anymore?'
'No,' Merlin says. 'I like this part, at least. Anyway, you look like you could use the support.'
Arthur shrugs and punches him lightly on the shoulder. 'Thanks,' he says.
It's not an admission, exactly, but it might as well be.
Sometimes, when Uther has a bit too much to drink, he tells Arthur that he's all he's got and he's a lucky man to have a son that he can be so proud of.
Arthur finds it hard to reconcile this Uther to the other, public one that he sees most of the time, but it's not because he doesn't understand, it's because he understands too much. It would be easier, he sometimes thinks, if he didn't know Uther had vulnerabilities, if he couldn't see where one persona bled into the other. He often thinks that if he understood Uther just a little less, making him happy wouldn't matter as much as it did.
Arthur knows that Uther and Gaius were friends before he was born, but for as long as he can remember, they haven't got along. It's an odd sort of situation. Uther pretty much runs things in the village the same way as he runs his business. It's a surprise, really, that Gaius is still there.
For the most part Uther just pretends that Gaius doesn't exist and mostly, it's not hard for him to do that since Uther sees a private doctor and Gaius has nothing to do with the church (He thinks it's all rubbish, Merlin whispered to him, a few days after Aredian's hellish sermon. If I told him what the Reverend says to us, I don’t think he'd let me go back.).
They do, occasionally, clash over village politics. Both men have been on the council for years, and sometimes their differences of opinion go on for weeks. This year, it's over plans for the New Year's celebration. Uther wants to use the event to promote what he terms as traditional family values. Gaius doesn't feel quite the same way and his refusal to Uther's plans, even though he has the support of all the other councillors, angers Uther the longer it goes on.
He and Arthur end up driving to Gaius' cottage one evening. Uther tells Arthur to wait outside in the car, and he marches in to speak to Gaius. Not long after the first voices are raised, Merlin slips out of a side door and lets himself into the car.
'Hey, I thought you could use this,' Merlin says, and hands him a chocolate brownie.
'Thanks,' says Arthur. 'Have they killed each other yet? '
'They're still working on it,' says Merlin. 'Actually, they're arguing over you now.'
'Me?' says Arthur, frowning; Gaius hardly knows him. 'I thought this was about Uther wanting to leave some of his mad leaflets out at the New Year's party.'
'Yeah,' says Merlin, and he looks over at Arthur. 'Well it started off like that, and then the next minute Gaius is going on about Uther and all the lobbying he does these days.'
Arthur doesn't see how this would affect him, but he sort of knows what Merlin is talking about. He's overheard Reverend Aredian and Uther enough times, discussing how they might be able to use Uther's money and profile to influence changes in the law.
'He's not powerful enough for that,' Arthur says. 'The business is doing okay, but, well, you know what his agenda's going to be. He'd never get anywhere.'
'That's the bit that Gaius really didn't like,' Merlin says quietly. 'He's got wind that the plan is for you to take over the reins; Uther thinks that you'd be a more appealing public face for his, er, you know, views.'
Arthur suppresses the urge to let his head fall into his hands. 'Fucking perfect,' he says. Uther has only broadly pushed him in the direction of business and politics, so he had hoped he might be allowed to exercise a little control over his choice of career. It doesn't look like that's the case anymore.
'You don't have to, you know,' Merlin says, and places a tentative hand on Arthur's shoulder.
Arthur feels his hands ball up into fists. He doesn't know how to begin to explain that, actually, he really, really does have to, but then the voices in the house get louder, followed by silence, and then a door slams.
'Guess that's my cue to go then,' says Merlin, but he pauses to give Arthur a quick, final squeeze to the shoulder before he lets himself out of the car.
It doesn't seem like any time at all until it's the last day of term, and they're heading out of the school gate with Morgana, Elena and a couple of their friends. Arthur is dreading the holidays; he still doesn't see Merlin much during the week, but he's grown used to him being there. It's only now, when it's about to be taken away, that he realises exactly how much his presence is coming to mean to him.
'What are you doing for New Years?' Arthur asks, as they fall back, momentarily, from the others.
'Nothing, probably,' Merlin says, and they walk along side by side, elbows almost touching. 'What about you?'
Elena who is, Arthur always thinks, much more stable on a horse, leans back and nearly goes flying in her effort to join their conversation. 'Why don't you come to the village hall with us, if you've got nothing better to do?' she says, slipping between him and Merlin, and linking arms with both of them. 'It's not the most exciting thing in the world, but lucky Arthur gets to take me every year.'
'Elena's your date?' Merlin asks, unlinking his arm, and looking at Arthur with a little frown creasing his forehead.
'No,' says Arthur at the same time as Elena says: 'Yes,' and lets out a little giggle.
Arthur opens his mouth to explain, but before he can get anywhere Merlin takes a step back, hitching his school bag firmly across his shoulder.
'Oh,' says Merlin. 'I didn't realise. Well, okay. I'd better be going now, I suppose.'
'It'll be nice if Merlin tags along too, won't it?' says Elena, as Merlin hurtles away from them. 'It's not like we're on a real date or anything, is it?'
Arthur rolls his eyes; he's known Elena from when they were babies, and she's always been oblivious to most of what goes on around her. As he watches Merlin practically fly off down the road, part of him is desperate to follow, but it's quickly overruled by another, more familiar part of him that always wins when he's unsure or hesitant. You've already drawn enough attention to yourself, the other voice says, and, reluctantly, he turns his attention back to Elena.
New Year's Eve is unremarkable, and Arthur and Elena leave the village hall shortly after midnight. She has an early start at the stables and is keen to make a move. Arthur, who has spent most of the night watching the door in the unlikely event Merlin decides to show, has no wish to stay any longer than absolutely necessary.
He brings Elena straight back to the Godwyn's, and once he sees that she's safely indoors, he goes for a drive. He's managed to keep this sliver of time after their occasional not-quite-dates to himself for a while now. Uther thinks he knows what Arthur and Elena are doing, so he rarely questions him over little lateness here and there, and Arthur makes sure he's never so long gone that Uther's suspicion is aroused.
Usually, Arthur drives until he finds somewhere quiet, and sits there, soaking up the silence and the few precious minutes where he can just feel like himself, and not the person he needs to be for everybody else. It's a pressure that he doesn't often get to relieve himself of, and he has mixed feelings about these times, needing the freedom and the solitude, but dreading the inevitable point where he has to put his key back into the ignition and head home.
Tonight, he finds himself outside Gaius' cottage. It's stupid, he knows, but he can't really think of where else he'd rather be. The light's on inside, and before he has time to overthink it, he gets out of the car, walks up the path and knocks at the door.
Merlin answers, yawning. He blinks a couple of times and tries, unsuccessfully, to smooth out his ruffled hair.
'Arthur?' he says, his smile a touch more forced than Arthur had hoped for.
'Sorry,' Arthur says. 'I woke you up. I should go.'
'No, no, come in,' says Merlin, pulling him into the cottage by both hands. 'I just drifted off for a few minutes. Gaius is still out, doing whatever it is he does; I was just about to make some tea.'
'Sounds good,' says Arthur, and when Merlin smiles back at him, he's almost got himself convinced himself that showing up, unannounced, in the middle of the night, isn't such a rash move after all.
Feeling faintly absurd in his tuxedo, Arthur clears a space on the long bench beside the kitchen table and watches Merlin as he drifts around, plucking cups and spoons from the chaos. It strikes him, suddenly, that he would never do something like this at home. He and Uther rarely have time for casual conversation, and when they do, he always makes sure Arthur isn't at a loose end for long.
'Here,' says Merlin, setting a cup down in front of him. He moves a stack of medical journals to the floor, clearing a space to sit alongside Arthur, their thighs brushing briefly as he settles in, one leg folded under itself. 'So,' he says, his eye briefly darting up to meet Arthur's. 'Good night?'
'Merlin,' Arthur says. 'About Elena ...'
'You don't need to explain how it is,' Merlin says, looking studiously at his tea, his fingers curled tightly around the cup.
'But there isn't anything to explain,' Arthur says. 'There's nothing between me and Elena. It's just ... we've always gone to these things together. It's easier that way.'
'Oh,' Merlin says, still focused on his cup. 'Easier, how?'
Easier than pretending with someone who isn't in on it, Arthur thinks. A lot fucking easier than taking someone I actually want to go with.
What he actually says is: 'It's no big deal, Merlin. It keeps our fathers off our backs.'
'I see.' Merlin presses his lips together, his tea still, apparently, the most interesting thing he's ever seen. 'Well, as pleased as I am that both your fathers are happy, if it's not a big deal, I don't know why you needed to come here and tell me that right now.'
Arthur thinks he's used to Merlin's frankness but he realises, as the words leave his mouth, that he is the one subject that has never come under the full force of his friend's scrutiny. It's unexpected, this sudden prodding, like an invasion, and he blusters a bit, unsure of where this is going. He settles for a nudge to Merlin's ribs - familiar ground - and a grin, though it's probably far too weak. 'It's your fault, anyway,' Arthur says. 'You were the one acting weird about Elena and me at the end of term.'
'Oh, right,' says Merlin. He sets his cup down and gives Arthur a wide, sceptical grin. 'Okay. Just so I've got this bit right - you and Elena pretend to date though you have absolutely no interest in each other, yet I'm the one with the weird behaviour?'
'Fuck it, Merlin, you were acting strange,' Arthur says. He doesn't mean to snap but he can feel himself losing what little control he has of the conversation.
'No, I wasn't,' says Merlin. There's something defiant about the way he's looking at Arthur that's at odds with his voice, which sounds strained and raw.
'Come on,' Arthur says. It's probably the wrong thing to do, but he goes for a light, friendly punch on the arm anyway. 'You were. It's not as if you wanted me as your date, is it? That would have been ridiculous.'
'Completely,' says Merlin, half to himself. 'I'd have to be mad to want a thing like that.'
'Yeah, insane,' says Arthur, relieved that Merlin is joking around now. 'Thanks for putting the thought in my head of us as a couple, though,' he says, and Merlin, mid-sip, nearly chokes on his tea.
'Like you said,' Merlin says softly, when he's composed himself. 'Ridiculous.'
'Yeah,' says Arthur, all bravado now they're back onto something less personal, 'so why were you so off with me, then? Come on Merlin, you're not normally one to hold back.'
Merlin looks away, and Arthur remembers that the last time he saw uncertainty on his face, was when he asked Merlin what he really thought about Reverend Aredian's sermon. This time, though, it's tinged with something more self-conscious. 'I'm sorry,' Merlin says, with a short laugh. 'Maybe I was a bit jealous. Not that I've any right to be, I know. It's just ... we're friends, and ... I know you, and I can see how unhappy it makes you when you pretend.'
'Pretend about what?' Arthur says, after a deep breath.
'You know what.' Merlin says, his voice getting quieter and quieter. 'You and Elena. It's all just for show. It's all just to hide that you're gay.'
Arthur's mind starts to spin. They've danced around this before, but putting it into words is different. Now that it feels like there might be an alternative, he doesn't know if he does want to stop pretending, even just to one person. All he wants to do now, really, is leave; it's taking all his willpower not to stand up and end this conversation.
'Arthur,' Merlin says. He sounds like he's miles away. 'Arthur, you're shaking.'
'Am bloody not,' he says. But he is, and even though he expects Merlin to call him on his bullshit again, instead he feels an arm slip around him. When the silence is broken by a raw, choked back sob, it takes a second to realise that the sound has come from him.
Merlin pulls him closer, and Arthur leans against him, relaxing bit by bit until, finally, he lets his arm fall against Merlin's waist. He feels Merlin take a deep, shuddering breath and suddenly he's very aware of how close his lips are to Merlin's neck, and how his hand, buried in the soft material of Merlin's t-shirt is only a handful of fibres away from warm, soft skin.
He knows that they shouldn't even be this close, but he lifts his head a fraction anyway, so his lips brush against Merlin's neck. Merlin tenses at first, the play of muscles underneath his skin making it look almost as if he's resisting something, but he doesn't push Arthur away, not even when, emboldened by Merlin's unspoken encouragement, he starts to move up the long column of his throat, tasting and inhaling the scent of the pale skin that he's only ever allowed himself to look at before.
'Arthur ... ' Merlin says. He's still breathing unsteadily. 'Are you sure this is a good idea?'
Arthur stops dead still; he can feel the heat creeping over his face already. 'You said you were jealous. I thought ...'
'Arthur?'
'Sorry,' says Arthur, standing up. 'Obviously, I've made a huge mistake. I should go.'
But before he can get away, Merlin grabs hold of his hands and pulls him back onto the bench. Now that they're facing each other again, he can see that although Merlin is nervous and maybe a little surprised, he doesn't seem horrified or disturbed or any of the other reactions Arthur was so ready to attribute to him seconds earlier.
'You haven't got anything wrong,' he says, rubbing his fingers over Arthur's rigid hands. 'Not if this is about me wanting you. But I can see how much you hate yourself sometimes, and I don't want to make it worse. I don't want you to do something you'll look back on and regret.'
'Oh, so you're a mind reader now?' Arthur says, forcing out a faintly bitter smile. 'Is there anything else I need to know about myself, or is that is for tonight?'
Merlin pauses, like he's trying to collect his thoughts. 'I've been through this,' he says. 'I was ready for how I was going to feel, but you're not. You still want to be what Uther wants you to be.'
'Hang on,' says Arthur, eyebrow raised. 'What do you mean you've been through this? Do you mean people know you're ...?'
'Gay?' says Merlin. 'You are allowed to say it, you know. And yes, my mum knows, and a few of my friends back home. What I'm saying is, it was a huge thing for me and I knew I had people to support me. People I could talk to. But it's not the same for you.'
'No, it's not,' Arthur says. 'But you're here aren't you?'
And then he remembers.
'Not forever,' says Merlin, and the little hitch in his voice makes Arthur ache.
Merlin seems to understand that the last thing Arthur wants right now is comfort or sympathy or anything that will make him feel more raw than he already does. Instead, he gets up and goes to the kitchen, and returns with what appears to be a bottle of champagne.
'Gaius left it out earlier,' Merlin says, laughing at Arthur's bemused expression, and sets the bottle on the table as if the last five minutes haven't happened. 'For some reason I think he didn't believe I hadn't got plans. Maybe we can, you know, toast your and Elena's fake relationship or something.'
'Idiot,' says Arthur, but he can't keep the fondness from his voice. 'Alright,' he says, 'but only because I want to see if you can open one of those things.'
Merlin laughs again and Arthur can't help his eyes being drawn back to his neck, so he closes them and focuses on convincing himself of the wisdom of Merlin's earlier words.
'You look a bit uncomfortable there,' Merlin says, laying his fingers briefly over Arthur's hands, 'let's move.'
Arthur wants to protest that he doesn't need looking after but he settles on rolling his eyes at Merlin's retreating figure before moving to the nearby couch. To his surprise, he hears a faint popping sound and then Merlin reappears, holding two mugs, looking triumphant. Even though there's more space now, he still sits down side by side with Arthur.
'It must be hard for you, living here,' Arthur says, setting his mug down on the table next to Merlin's. He doesn't really feel like drinking. 'What with the Reverend and everything.'
'It's not as if I could go anywhere else,' Merlin says. 'My Dad's been gone for years, and he didn't really have any family. Gaius is all mum has. Anyway,' he says, giving Arthur a quick, sidelong glance, 'it's not all bad.'
'Oh yeah?' Arthur says.
'Yeah,' says Merlin. 'There's this boy ...'
'Really, Merlin?' Arthur says. 'And does Gwaine know how you feel about him?'
He isn't expecting the cushion that connects, suddenly, with the side of his head, and the exasperated 'Shut up, Arthur,' that follows, but he reacts without thinking, and seconds later he has Merlin pressed into the couch, their faces only inches apart. They've been just as near to one another before but, Arthur realises, never this close.
When Merlin looks up at him and licks his lips, Arthur nearly loses it. He bites down a moan, but it comes out anyway, a rough, strangled gasp. He knows he should shut his eyes or move away. Anything to stop him wanting this so much, but he doesn't and finds himself staring into Merlin's questioning eyes.
'I want you,' Arthur says, and something in his stomach twists and aches at the blunt admission. He knows, theoretically, it should make sense, to hold back, but then Merlin shifts underneath him and he discovers, as his thigh presses against Merlin's groin, that he's not the only one having second thoughts.
'If you're waiting for me to make the first move, you'll be here a long time,' says Merlin.
'As if I'd make a move on you,' Arthur says, though he almost has to gasp the words out.
Merlin just smiles. His eyes are dark and pensive as he moves a hand to stroke through Arthur's hair, his fingers stopping just above the nape of his neck. There's no pressure to his hand, really, and it's not like Merlin's pushing him one way or another, but Arthur can't ignore his instinct a moment longer.
He cups Merlin's cheek and lets his thumb graze against the contours of his face, taking in the contrasting sensations of soft skin and light stubble, and then goes back to trace a haphazard line from his temple, swiping across a sharp cheekbone, and then back down along the line of his jaw.
Eventually, he reaches Merlin's mouth. His breath catches; he can't quite bring himself to believe that he's allowed to do this. Slowly, he traces over Merlin's lips, softly pressing his thumb against the fleshy plumpness. When Merlin runs his tongue over Arthur's thumb and sucks it briefly into his mouth, the sensation is almost too much to bear. He closes his eyes and lets himself feel how much he wants this and then finally, finally, he leans down and kisses him.
During the second or two it takes for Merlin to respond, the feeling of wanting to run comes back again, but it's gone as soon as Arthur feels Merlin's lips pushing back against his. His mouth opens to Arthur tantalisingly slowly, like he's drawing him in piece by piece. It's another eternity before Arthur feels the tentative slide of Merlin's tongue, and then his own shy, answering stroke.
Only then does Arthur give himself permission to let go. After that it's as if time speeds up, and everything's frantic and intense and on the edge of too much. Merlin hitches his leg up around Arthur's waist, pulling him even closer but, possessed by a sudden need to see him, Arthur leans back. Merlin is very still, but a slow flush is creeping up his neck and his breath is coming faster, lips parting slightly into a smile as he pulls Arthur back to him.
'Okay?' he whispers, his lips touching Arthur's as he speaks. Arthur kisses him again, briefly this time, and lays his head against Merlin's shoulder.
'Perfect,' he says, and kisses him again, briefly this time. He lays his head against Merlin's chest, wanting to listen for his heartbeat, but just as he's trying to remember the last time he felt this good, he's interrupted by the unmistakeable sound of a key in the front door.
'Shit,' Arthur says, on his feet in an instant.
'Gaius,' Merlin says, sitting up and stretching lazily. 'Don't worry, he won't say anything.'
Arthur wants to tell him that isn't the point, but at that moment the phone in his trouser pocket starts to vibrate. He knows who it is without having to look.
With about as much regret as he's felt about anything, he starts to straighten his shirt.
'Arthur?' Merlin says. 'It's okay, honestly.'
'It's not that,' Arthur says. 'It's Uther. I'm sorry, I have to go.'
Merlin presses a quick kiss to his lips, and Arthur slips out through the kitchen door, his mouth still tingling. As he drives back he realises that he still can't remember a time when he's felt better than this.
When he pulls into his own driveway and sees the light on. Uther is still up. Fear hits him like a punch to the guts, and he can't remember feeling any worse.
Uther is waiting in the hallway for him when he gets in. He doesn't say anything at first, just looks him up and down slowly, before issuing a curt goodnight. Arthur watches as his father disappears up the stairs, at a loss for what to think, let alone say.
It feels worse, in a way, than if Uther had demanded to know where he'd been. He's edgier now, knowing that although his transgression hasn't been addressed, it's been noted, and it won't be forgotten.
Arthur knows he might as well forget sleep for a while. He goes into the kitchen, and as he sits alone at the table, something ugly takes hold of him and he feels his hands start to shake. He tries to fight it. He doesn't want to be angry with Uther, who's spent his life taking care of him. Still, he can't help resenting how easily his father can do this; how he can turn something that was starting to feel a little bit brilliant into something that he feels ashamed of, with just a look and a word.
Part Two