Every Story is a Love Story (2/3)
Part One
“My God, you’re such a cheap date.”
“I am,” Arthur says with as much dignity as he can muster while leaning most of his weight on Merlin’s shoulder, “no such thing.”
“You can spend a whole night drinking violently pink cocktails,” Merlin continues, unimpaired, “but put a pint and a few shots in front of you and you’re stumbling. And you call me the girl?”
“You’re the one who got so drunk at his signing party that he … you, you ended up singing because you decided you were in a musical, so you’re the lightweight. Also, I had more than you.” Arthur is proud of the amount of that he gets out without slurring.
“Indeed you did, and you should be grateful that I still remember the way back to my flat. Not to mention grateful that the couch is comfortable.”
Arthur blinks at him. “Gwen, though.”
“She won’t bring Lancelot back to the flat, and it’s not as if you’ve never slept there before. Whoops, don’t step in that, Arthur, I really don’t think that’s water,” says Merlin, steering him around something mysterious on the pavement. “I think I’ve still got a pair of your trackpants and Gwen’s got a t-shirt or two from an old boyfriend so you don’t have to sleep in your suit.”
“There’s a reason you’re my favorite,” Arthur announces with an expansive gesture, and Merlin props him up a bit more since that nearly overbalanced them. He hasn’t been this drunk in quite some time, it would be rather embarrassing if it were anyone but Merlin taking care of him.
“Author?” inquires Merlin.
“Person.”
He doesn’t need to look at Merlin to know he’s rolling his eyes. “Of course, Arthur. Come on, here’s my building, up the steps, you’re so heavy and you’d better be so nice to me in your e-mails tomorrow, who thought a piss-up was a good idea on a weeknight?”
Arthur winces, since that was all him. “I’ll go in late, I haven’t got any meetings in the morning and Freya will only judge me a little bit.”
“Shut up, Freya adores you as much as everyone else does, she just doesn’t like to pander to your ego. Hold yourself up for a minute, I need to get us through the door.” Arthur obediently leans against the side of the building, since his legs are getting a bit wobbly in the wake of the Scotch. And the beer. And the other sort of beer. And the shots of whatever that was Merlin got them.
“Nobody panders to my ego, Morgana sets a horrible example,” he manages to mutter belatedly when Merlin finally drags him through the door and prods him in the general direction of the stairs, because of course he hasn’t got an elevator in his building. At least he only lives on the second floor.
“Yes, your life as the chief editor and CEO of the ever-so-successful Camelot Publishing is a terribly difficult-watch your step, I can’t take you anywhere.” Merlin lags behind him and half-pushes him up the steps, even though Arthur’s mostly got his feet under him now and could probably do more of the work if he cared to. It’s nice, though, feeling taken care of; he doesn’t really have anyone to do it outside the office, and inside the office Freya runs his life efficiently but doesn’t fuss over him.
By the time they make it to Merlin’s door, after much more exasperated pushing from Merlin and Arthur insisting for no reason beyond annoying him that his life is indeed terribly dull, they’re both laughing, muffling it into their hands so Merlin’s neighbors don’t come out to scold them. The door opens before Merlin can finish unlocking it, and there’s Gwen, hands on her hips and a smile twitching at her mouth. “I could hear the two of you coming from the street. Hello, Arthur.”
“You are meant to be on a date,” he reminds her.
“I got in half an hour ago, because Lancelot is a gentleman. Are you sleeping here? Merlin, is he sleeping here?”
Merlin gently pushes Arthur through the door and into the cozy little flat he and Gwen have lived in since Arthur’s known him. “Yes, I wasn’t going to send him halfway across town when he’s this drunk and knackered, even if it is a work night. I texted Freya an hour ago to say he’ll be late, at least.”
Arthur frowns at him. “I’m quite certain that I didn’t tell you to do that.”
Gwen looks between them, lips pursed, and then shrugs. “Just don’t keep me up all night, I have to work in the morning. Arthur, want me to wake you up when I get up?”
“Apparently my office has been informed that I’ll be late.”
“Whatever you say, then,” she says, and kisses Merlin on the cheek before wandering into her bedroom and shutting the door.
Arthur manages to shake off some of his fogginess, now that he’s in the quiet and the dark, and he goes to the kitchen for a glass of water while Merlin goes into his room for an extra blanket or two for the couch. They get ready for bed in near-silence after that, since Arthur’s never quite gotten over being unnerved by Gwen, mostly because she always looks at him as if she’s terribly disappointed in him and waiting for him to break her heart. Merlin gives him blankets and pajamas and finds him painkillers, takes some himself, and goes to bed without further ado, all the amusement from earlier gone so he just looks worn out.
Exhausted though he may be, Arthur can’t get to sleep right away. His flat is little more than a place to crash at night, one he chose when he insisted Morgana take their father’s house after he died since he got the company, but it’s still odd being out of his own bed. The bookshelves are beside the couch, so he idly scans the titles while he waits to sleep-he’s too drunk to concentrate on reading anything, but it’s something to do. He’s been shown the bottom shelf before, stuffed full of all of Merlin’s copies of his own books. Most of them from Camelot Publishing, of course, under his pseudonym, and a few copies of short story anthologies that he’s published erotica in, as well as the one odd mathematics periodical that sticks out like a sore thumb (where Merlin co-authored an article in his last year of university since apparently he was some sort of maths prodigy before the romance novels, and Arthur’s never got an explanation out of him about that).
“Can’t sleep?” asks Gwen, and Arthur nearly jumps out of his skin. “Sorry, I thought you would have heard my door opening, I wanted a glass of water.”
“Guess I wasn’t paying attention.” He’s only slurring a little now, alcohol mostly wearing off and headache starting in to take its place despite the painkillers. “Was just looking at Merlin’s books. I always forget how many he’s got even though I’ve edited them all.”
“You two have known each other for years now, and he’s a fast writer,” she says, and there’s that disappointment like always, or something close to it. “You both probably made a joke of it, but you should have seen his face when he got that e-mail about the new imprint. It means a lot, that you’re doing this for him.”
“With him,” Arthur corrects, since that’s the operative word that everybody seems to miss, even Merlin. “It means something to more than just the two of us.”
Gwen softens at that, though he couldn’t say why, and relaxes her posture. “With him, then. It still means a great deal, to the two of you and everyone else. Now go to sleep, would you, or no amount of coffee will make you presentable for work and Morgana will call me to complain.”
As if that’s some sort of permission, Arthur drifts off before she’s even finished getting her glass of water. In the morning, when he wakes up when she starts getting ready for work despite himself, everything after Merlin’s pub is a bit foggy, but he remembers chatting with Gwen and she’s smiling at him this morning, not looking disappointed. He’s not sure why, but he figures she has her own reasons, and he doesn’t need to pry.
*
From: Merlin
To: Arthur
Subject: Whoops
So, I was expecting Freya to answer when I called so I just said that you forgot your tie at my place last night and then it was Morgana. Incoming?
Sorry.
“Merlin has your tie,” Morgana drawls from Arthur’s office doorway.
Arthur has a hangover and wants to do anything but deal with this, but it’s too late to hide and Freya’s off running something down to graphics, where she undoubtedly got distracted leaning over Leon’s shoulder to see what he’s got for searching for stock for the Tintagel covers so far. He makes a mental note to fire her later and gives Morgana an insincere smile. “Yes, I’ve just been informed by e-mail, which he ought to have done straight away instead of giving us over to the gossips. I was drunk, I slept on his couch, as I have done quite a few times before.”
“Yes, but you haven’t done it since Tintagel.”
He stares at her. “I fail to see the significance.”
“Of course you do, sweetie. Since you read The Hunter’s Heart, maybe?” He stares some more, and she sighs. “Since you read his gay porn for the first time and-” She breaks off to make a wanking motion explicit enough that he almost hisses at her to shut the door. “Oh, don’t tell me you didn’t.”
“First off, it wasn’t the first time I’d read his porn, gay or straight, by any means. He’s published in anthologies and online, remember? And second, of course I didn’t. It’s hard to get turned on when you’re taking a red pen to something, you of all people should know that.”
“It’s not like I haven’t finished a day of work and gone home to make very good friends with my vibrator before,” she says breezily, and lovely, he’s going to have to spend the next five years of his life trying to erase that from his memory.
“Thank you, that was an image I wanted to have. Now, were you visiting to do anything besides play secretary for me and make erroneous assumptions about my love life? Merlin is my best friend, has been for quite some time, it doesn’t matter what sort of romance novel he’s writing this week.”
Morgana rolls her eyes and tilts her head to the side. “Does he know you’re bisexual?”
That trips him up, mostly because it seems to come out of nowhere. “I would assume so. I don’t think I’ve said it outright, but I’m not shy about appreciating either gender while we’re out and I’m certain I’ve been on a date or two with men since I’ve known him.”
It’s Morgana’s turn to stare at him, and then she grins, the exact way she always does when something is going to go horribly wrong. “You know, I would explain all the ways that this is going to turn into a disaster just because you and Merlin are both so hopelessly stupid, but I think I’ll enjoy it more this way. One of my authors has a gay romance with werewolves, by the way, that’s the real reason I came to see you. Tintagel or Avalon?”
“Perhaps we can put the logos for both on it, show that it’s supported by the whole company. Your author, your edit, though, I don’t have the patience to work out consistency of werewolf soulbonds or whatever the fuck it is you get up to at your desk.”
She leans closer, hisses “Knotting” in his ear, and laughs at the resulting expression on his face. Arthur throws the closest writing utensil at her. “Yes, definitely your edit, now out, you’ve exceeded the amount of times per week that you’re allowed to traumatize me, thank you.”
“Like children,” says Morgana, and swans out, stopping to chat with Freya for a few minutes as she returns just in time to miss the whole awkward interlude.
Arthur indulges himself in resting his forehead on his desk for a moment before straightening up and opening a return message to Merlin.
From: Arthur
To: Merlin
Subject: Re: Whoops
You could have just e-mailed me in the first place, and then I would have been spared Morgana chatting about vibrators and whether you know I’m bisexual and werewolf porn and for the record, Merlin, there is very little that could make me pawn you off on another editor, but werewolves might be in that category.
I am traumatized and going to be unable to think of anything pleasantly sexual all day, which is a bit of a problem in my profession, as you might guess. I suppose that means it’s a good day for paperwork.
He’s expecting a quick response mocking him for being traumatized by his sister, but he doesn’t get anything until midafternoon.
From: Merlin
To: Arthur
Subject: Re: Re: Whoops
Thank you for sharing your trauma, Arthur, it’s really big of you. I’m guessing that means I’m not getting any editing notes today, in which case I’ll have more chance to look over the other Tintagel possibles, two are almost ready for you and the other two need a bit more brushing up before I send them your way, they’re a bit … well, they need some pre-you editing, let’s say that.
And I … didn’t. Know that you’re bisexual, I mean. Suppose I ought to have guessed, or something? One would think a writer would be more observant, I guess.
“You look confused,” says Freya from the doorway. “Belated hangover?”
“No, I’ve been over that for hours. Just an odd e-mail.”
She squints at him for a moment, then steps fully into his office. “From Merlin?”
“Yes, actually.” It isn’t even Merlin’s awkwardness about not knowing Arthur’s bisexual that confuses him-Arthur doesn’t make a point of telling people, mostly because it’s irrelevant. After reading flowery porn all day, he rarely wants to have sex, and when he does he generally doesn’t have the energy to pick up men. If he got into a relationship it would be one thing, but running the company doesn’t give him the time to build the relationships with people that would necessitate telling Merlin, and he doesn’t expect Merlin to pay attention to everyone he checks out at the bars. He’s mostly wondering about the first paragraph. It’s not the first time Merlin’s sent him a message saying he’s got a bit more editing to do before his next book comes to Arthur, but usually he’s both more flippant and more specific, talking about grammar or an overblown scene that Arthur would mock. This time, there’s just that odd awkwardness, the lack of specificity. He doesn’t know how to explain it to Freya, though, even though she knows both of them well. “Just talking about Morgana, and his next MSes.”
Freya nods slowly. “He e-mailed me over lunch, seemed a bit … of.” She hesitates. “Is everything okay?”
“I’m fine, if that’s what you’re asking. I don’t know about Merlin, we haven’t e-mailed much today.” And that’s still more food for thought, exactly how often they spend most of Arthur’s workday exchanging periodic e-mails and how odd it feels when Merlin takes a while to respond. “It could be I said something while I was drunk last night, though I don’t remember saying anything awful and I wasn’t quite blackout drunk.”
She bites her lip, and it’s obvious there’s something she could say, but she shakes her head instead. “If he were annoyed with you, he would tell you, just like he has a hundred times before. I’m sure that whatever it is, it will blow over. I just … thought I would ask. Maybe I’ll take him out to dinner later, see if there’s anything he wants to get off his chest. Could be boy troubles, I know you two don’t really talk about that.”
Arthur opens his mouth to say that he always knows when Merlin has a boyfriend and when they break up, but then again, that really is all he knows. One week it’s Sorry, can’t do dinner, I’m out with Gilli-yeah, he’s the new boyfriend or Thursday night is date night with this one, Edwin is big on routine and eventually it’s Oh, no, I’m not busy, we ended it a few days ago, nothing traumatic and Men are all such fuckers, why can’t I just marry Freya. “Yes, by all means,” he says after a few too many seconds. “I won’t even pry afterwards, just make sure he’s okay.”
Freya nods. “I will. And now, I mostly came in to say you’ve got an agent who’s left a message asking if lesbian romance is going to be part of Tintagel as well.”
“Doesn’t sell as well, but I don’t want to discriminate, I just haven’t had time to go actively recruiting yet and nobody seems to have manuscripts for it they’re jumping on me with, forward me the contact info and I’ll get in touch in the morning, I’ve got too much to wrap up this afternoon for that discussion.”
“Right, I’ll get on that. Thanks, Arthur.” She pauses in the doorway. “Are you sure you’re okay? Merlin may be a bit odd, but this isn’t exactly normal post-hangover behavior from you, either.”
“I’m fine,” he says, and waves her out.
*
From: Merlin
To: Freya
Subject: ???
Are you on your lunch break yet? Please tell me you’re on your lunch break, Gwen is having lunch with Lance or I wouldn’t bother you but I need to talk to someone or I will quite possibly do something really stupid.
From: Freya
To: Merlin
Subject: Re: ???
Yes, sorry for the wait, I was just finishing up a phone call. What’s the matter? Need me to call?
From: Merlin
To: Freya
Subject: Re: Re: ???
No, probably won’t make much sense that way, it’s probably best for me to do this over e-mail. Having minor Arthur-related freakout. Are you free to instant message for a bit? Faster than e-mail, won’t take up as much of your lunch break.
Freya: Here I am, Arthur isn’t paying very close attention and I’m technically on break anyway, what’s the problem?
Merlin: Has it somehow magically escaped my notice for the past several years that Arthur is bisexual, or is he having a sexuality crisis brought on by Tintagel?
Freya: Oh, Christ.
Freya: Yes, I’ve known for ages, after he sent a disgruntled one night stand flowers because he’s Arthur.
Merlin: And you didn’t tell me???
Freya: I have been to the pub with you two when you were both a bit buzzed, do you really not notice him checking out other blokes’ arses?
Merlin: … No?
Freya: Probably because you’re too busy staring at him like a character in one of your novels. Look, maybe I should have told you, but does it make that much of a difference in the end?
Merlin: YES because now I am getting my hopes up because I can’t quit replaying all the times he’s told me I’m his favorite person and last night he was drunk and all over me and he’s even starting to win Gwen over and this really wasn’t supposed to happen, I am the stupidest gay cliché known to mankind.
Freya: You should seduce him.
Merlin: what
Freya: Find out one way or the other.
Freya: Look, Arthur is wonderful, but he’s terribly oblivious-would have to be, not to figure out that Roland and Alan are the two of you with your hair colors switched.
Freya: He’s spent his whole life around romance novels and he still doesn’t get that you’re in love with him.
Merlin: Or he’s just NOT INTERESTED.
Freya: He’s so determined not to be his father, is it any wonder he doesn’t realize he’s in his own version of his parents’ love story? But he cares about you more than anyone, and he thinks your porn is hot, and that’s a better beginning than most would get. It doesn’t take a genius to know Arthur’s a bit jaded by written sex.
Merlin: You’ve been talking to Morgana too much.
Merlin: And how could you possibly know that, I refuse to believe that you and Arthur discuss my porn, because that would mean I have to spend the next ten years hiding under my bed.
Freya: It became rather obvious when he drank most of a bottle of water and started fiddling with his tie halfway into the first reading session he had for HH, and then when I had to bring him another before the end.
Merlin: DON’T TELL ME THESE THINGS. I am already having to edit the book with the pirates and one of my contemporaries because now I’m horribly afraid that he’s just going to /know/ somehow.
Freya: Would it be so bad if he figured it out?
Merlin: … Not if he said yes.
Merlin: I’ve got to go. Have a good afternoon. Thanks.
Freya: You do not have to go!
Message not sent.
Freya: MERLIN.
Message not sent.
From: Freya
To: Morgana
Subject: Arthur and Merlin
Don’t know what happened this morning, but I think you might have done more harm than good. Both sounding a little lost, and not in the hungover sense.
From: Morgana
To: Freya
Subject: Re: Arthur and Merlin
Someone’s got to do something.
Have a little faith. They’ll have to figure themselves out sooner or later.
*
It was easy to forget that they were friends, that they were each other’s fallbacks, that once in secondary school they’d promised each other that if neither had anyone by age thirty they would give it a try, with the lights so low and the music was loud. “We should-dance with other people, maybe,” said Elliot, because he was starting to think that Lucas’s hands at his hips and the way his eyes almost never left the love bite on Elliot’s neck meant something, and there was nothing more foolish than that.
“Do you think so?”
Elliot swallowed, watched the way Lucas’s eyes followed the bob of his Adam’s apple. “I do.”
Lucas pressed even closer, until Elliot could feel him hard against his hip and had to arch into it, unthinking. “I don’t,” he breathed right in his ear, and when he pulled back it was just far enough to trail kisses across his jaw. “You’re my favorite person, God, why wouldn’t I want to?”
“Then why didn’t you before?”
Lucas pressed his lips right over the love bite but didn’t suck to overlay it with his own. “I didn’t figure it out until you were with Sam, and I didn’t want to break you up. And then when you did, God, I thought it was my chance, and I wanted to wait until it wouldn’t be a rebound but when you went and got off with that bloke last night, I wanted so badly for it to be me …”
“Arthur!” says Freya, in the tone that means she’s definitely said it more than once.
“Reading,” he replies without looking up from his screen, because she knows he got the first of Merlin’s contemporary manuscripts in his e-mail this morning after weeks of Merlin barely being in contact aside from sending him edits and that he isn’t to be interrupted unless the building starts burning down.
“I know, but you’ve got to listen for a minute. I need to leave for the day so you won’t have me guarding the door. I’ve forwarded all your calls to Elena.”
Arthur blinks up at her, tearing his eyes away from what he’s willing to bet is going to be the book’s first sex scene, since the buildup is already half-killing him in unedited form. “Wait, leaving? Why are you leaving? Are you ill?”
“No, Merlin just called to say he’s in A&E and needs someone to pick him up, he got in a bit of an accident on his bicycle and Gwen’s out of town for the day so she can’t.”
“God, why didn’t you tell me?” Arthur slams his laptop shut and stuffs it in his briefcase without bothering to shut it down properly. “I’ll go with you, if you’re forwarding my calls and everyone’s expecting me to be reading, there’s nothing that won’t keep until we’ve made sure he’s okay. Did he sound okay?”
Freya smiles at him and doesn’t try to talk him out of going, much to his surprise. “He sounded a bit frayed, so I didn’t get many details, but I think he might have broken his arm. He swerved to miss someone’s dog that ran right into his way and a car didn’t swerve quite enough to miss him.”
Arthur grabs his jacket and ushers her out of the office. “Of course he got in a car accident trying to rescue a dog. Only Merlin.”
She gets her purse as they pass her desk and grabs her phone out as they go, sending off a text, presumably to let someone know that the CEO and his assistant will be out of the office for the rest of the afternoon. Arthur resists the urge to text Merlin incessantly to make sure he’s conscious and not off doing anything else foolish, since he most likely won’t answer if his arm is broken and he’s been sporadic at answering texts since that last piss-up anyway. Freya mutters something that he pretends not to hear on the grounds of not wanting to fire her today as they get into the first taxi that pulls over, and then gives the driver the name of the hospital Merlin’s in.
It’s not a long drive, but Arthur fidgets the whole way, still not completely in reality after getting pulled from his reading so suddenly and only getting more worried the more he comes aware because Merlin’s a bit accident prone, yes, but he’s not landed in the hospital since Arthur’s known him.
“How’s the latest book?” Freya inquires when he finally manages to look at her instead of staring out the window and willing the traffic to move faster.
“Good. Really good work, actually, I didn’t even start off worried like I did with Hunter’s Heart. Best-friends-get-together kind of story, that’s one of his favorite ideas to play with.”
She looks at her lap. “Yes, I’ve noticed that. What’s the title?”
Arthur neglects to mention that he had to send back the file entitled Lolita with the message I shan’t read it until you’re serious, since even when Merlin is being inexplicably uncommunicative he’s still a bit of a git. “Sweet Dreams, which I suppose I can’t fault.”
“No, it’s not half bad for him.”
They chat about the book the rest of the way to the hospital, where Arthur pays the cabbie and lets Freya direct him since he has no idea where to go once they’re inside. She talks with a nurse and gets them led to Merlin, who’s dozing in a chair with his left arm in a cast and a sling. Freya rushes forward to coo while Arthur stands awkwardly back, finally connecting that he just left his office two hours early when Freya could easily have hauled Merlin back to his flat and looked after him until Gwen got him.
Eventually, Merlin looks up from blearily assuring Freya that he’s fine and his arm isn’t going to suddenly fall off and blinks at Arthur. “Wait, you’re here. What are you doing here? Don’t you have a job?”
“I have a job,” says Freya, but she’s smiling and turns around to talk to the nurse again a second later about how many painkillers Merlin’s allowed to have and when he needs to make an appointment for a checkup.
Since she’s left him at sea and Merlin is still staring at him wide-eyed and more confused than can really be good for him, Arthur casts about for something to say. It’s never this awkward between them, but a few weeks of silence and the hospital have made everything far too strange. “I suppose I ought to have left you in Freya’s capable hands, but I was … worried,” he manages, since Morgana frequently reminds him that it doesn’t kill him to admit he has feelings.
Merlin makes a face at his arm. “This is going to be hell to type with, edits might slow down some.”
“Don’t worry about it,” Arthur assures him instantly. “We’re ahead of schedule on Hunter’s Heart anyway, and now I’ve got Sweet Dreams to go through as well, and it’s not as though I lack for work, so take as much time as you need to recover.”
“Shouldn’t take me too long to recover enough to work, I can type one-handed when I need to.” Merlin yawns. “I hate painkillers, I feel all fuzzy.”
“Fuzzy is better than whining,” says Freya, finishing with the nurse and pulling Merlin gently to his feet. Arthur grabs Merlin’s little bag of belongings. “They’re releasing you as long as someone watches you for the next twenty-four hours, that bump on your head is nasty enough to keep an eye on. I’ve got a date tonight, when’s Gwen meant to be home?”
Merlin stumbles along until Arthur comes up to his other side and takes a bit of his weight, doing his best not to jostle his arm. “Not until midnight, probably, but I’ll be okay for a few hours, not the first time I’ve had a concussion.”
Freya sighs. “It’s not a problem, I’ll just cancel the date, it’s nobody special-”
“You’ll do no such thing,” says Arthur. “I’ll stay with him. If you don’t mind, Merlin?”
“You’ve got things to do, you should be at work now,” says Merlin as they steer him towards the door.
“I can read your book just as easily while you’re snoring in your flat as I can in my office. Better, perhaps, Morgana is less likely to poke her nose in and cause trouble.”
Merlin doesn’t look very happy. “If you’re sure.”
“I am.”
“Good, then,” says Freya, pushing open the door to let them out. “I wasn’t relishing the thought of canceling, I admit. Let’s get a cab, shall we?”
Merlin sleeps the entire cab ride to his flat, and he’s grouchy and groggy when they wake him to get out and up the stairs. Arthur gives serious thought to just picking him up and carrying him, but that would do his arm no favors and he’s not about to make things worse, so he just returns the favor that Merlin did for him when he was drunk and pushes him gently up the stairs from behind while Freya coaxes him up from the front. They get inside with a minimum of fuss and bother and Arthur is left to get Merlin in his pajamas and into bed while Freya gets water and pills and whatever else they might need.
“My bike is ruined,” says Merlin while Arthur averts his eyes to let him get changed.
“Lucky you’re a well-to-do author who can afford a new one, then,” Arthur returns, and reaches out to grab him and keep him from falling when he miscalculates his ability to put on trousers with only one arm. “Try again, I really have no desire to dress you while you’re in this state.”
“Do you have a desire to dress me while I’m in any state?”
“One would hope you’ve been able to dress yourself since you were a child, Merlin, though given some of your outfits that is debatable, I’ll admit.”
“Stop making fun of him, he’s injured and he can’t keep up,” Freya calls from the other side of the door. “Is he decent?”
Merlin hops a bit and finally makes it into the remainder of his clothes. “Yes, I’m fine, and I’m not six years old, both of you have seen me practically naked before.”
Freya comes in and sits him down on the bed, leaving him a glass of water and two pills on the way. “You can have the water now, but the pills need to wait a few hours. Are you hungry?” Merlin shakes his head, and Arthur pulls the covers up even though he gets a glare. “Nothing too heavy when he is hungry, Arthur, but other than that it’s just common sense. Are you two going to be okay if I leave you? If I leave now I have time for a bit of a shop before my date.”
“Go ahead,” says Merlin, and she kisses him on the forehead and gives Arthur a little smile before she leaves. “Am I allowed to sleep, oh mighty doctor? I’m sort of knackered.”
“Yes, I just have to wake you up periodically and make sure you make as much sense as you ever do.”
Merlin bites his lip. “You don’t have to stay, you know. I wasn’t kidding when I said I would be okay on my own.”
Arthur sighs and tries not to look at the bandage farther up on Merlin’s arm than the cast, where the pavement rubbed his skin raw. “Indulge me, Merlin. Freya nearly gave me a heart attack earlier when she said you were at A&E, and I can read your book just as easily here as I can there. Just go to sleep.” The way Merlin looks at him, glassy-eyed with pain and drugs but still a bit wary, makes him blurt out a question he’s been avoiding. “Have I done anything wrong?”
“No, no, God, of course not,” says Merlin, sounding surprised enough that it’s a comfort.
He can’t help pressing, just a bit. “It’s only that you’ve been a bit quiet, lately.”
It takes Merlin long enough to answer that Arthur wonders if he’s fallen asleep. “I’ve been editing. And I’ve had some things to think about. It’s fine. We’re fine. I promise.”
After that, Merlin settles in to sleep and Arthur plugs his laptop in and goes to the other side of the bed to sit and read.
“We’ve always said the friendship is more important,” said Elliot, but it was hard to put any conviction behind it.
“Just because I want you doesn’t mean we have to stop being friends.” Lucas kissed him, swift and sure. “I know I should wait, but if you have time to think, you’ll have time to say no, and you can’t tell me you’ve never thought about it.”
Elliot hadn’t, honestly, years of being friends and knowing they were both gay nonetheless. There’d been the odd fantasy, but he’d never really thought about what it would be like, if hugs at the door turned into kisses, if they went out to the clubs and always left together at the end instead of having one dance at the beginning of the night and maybe another later if the pickings were scarce. With Lucas’s hands hot through his clothes, though, it was hard not to think about it. “I suppose … I suppose all we can do is try.”
Arthur wakes up at one in the morning, hours after making Merlin cheese on toast for dinner and letting him have his painkillers before coaxing him back to sleep, with his laptop shut on his lap and his hand tangled in Merlin’s hair, Merlin sprawled across his leg. It takes him a second to figure out what woke him until he looks up to find Gwen in the doorway, standing and watching them with an expression he can’t quite decipher. A second later, she nods, a smile forming, and Arthur barely has time to nod and smile in return before she shuts the door. He turns to check on Merlin one last time and falls back asleep before he can do more than put his laptop off to the side.
*
“That is yesterday’s suit, your shirt doesn’t fit properly, and you’re wearing a plaid tie,” says Morgana gleefully when she walks into his office five minutes after he gets there. “The rumor mill is all abuzz about you and Freya leaving for some Merlin-related reason yesterday, so I can only assume that you vigorously shagged him all night and had to steal his clothes this morning.”
Arthur rubs his temples and wonders what the chances are that if he pretends he can’t hear her she’ll go away. Probably quite low, since that didn’t even work when they were children. “And in what way would Freya be involved in that?”
Morgana leers. “You tell me.”
“Merlin broke his arm, I stayed the night at his flat and woke up too late to go back to mine for a fresh shirt. Thank you as ever for your concern about my nonexistent sex life.”
“Is he all right?”
“Well enough to be complaining this morning about how slow this is going to make typing for the next few weeks, at least. I’ve told him not to worry about it, two manuscripts to edit is certainly enough to be going on with for the moment.”
Morgana hums quietly, and when he looks up at her again she’s looking at him speculatively. “You must have been worried, to leave the office.”
“Of course I was, is there any particular reason that I shouldn’t have been? He’s my best friend, after all.”
That answer obviously doesn’t give her what she wants, because she switches tacks. “And how is the newer one? Everyone’s waiting to see if it’s as good as The Hunter’s Heart.”
“Possibly better, though Hunter’s Heart is coming on by leaps and bounds as we edit, might even get it down to copy-editing soon, although Merlin’s injury might slow us down some. He’s always done well with the contemporaries, more chance to pull from reality.”
Morgana blinks at him like he’s surprised her. “What on earth do you mean by that?”
“Oh, you know, the little things all authors do. Like how the heroine from his last contemporary always forgot her reading glasses on her head like Gwen does when she’s tired, and how one of his heroes had a fondness for pet names about the same time that Gwaine went around calling everyone ‘darling.’”
“I can honestly say I’d never noticed.”
“You don’t edit him, so I wouldn’t expect you to.”
For a second, she just watches him, eyes a bit narrowed, and then she hums thoughtfully. “What sort of things are showing up in his Tintagel romances, out of curiosity?”
“Nothing much ever shows up in his historicals-Roland’s got a ring he wears like I wear my mother’s, but I don’t recall anything else much. Sweet Dreams seems to be rife with it, though, even down to one of the characters calling the other his favorite person when he’s being affectionate.”
She raises her eyebrows. “As Merlin does to you?”
“As I do to Merlin, not that it’s any of your business.” She starts laughing, hand over her mouth. “For God’s sake, Morgana, what?”
“It’s like you’re being willfully ignorant, I really can’t talk to you when you’re being like this,” she announces, and barely manages to get her face straight before striding right out of his office.
It takes less than a minute for Freya to appear at the door. “That was certainly an interesting conversation.”
“Oh good, so we’re dispensing with the fallacy that I have any privacy whatsoever, then,” Arthur says into his hands. “Are you here to tell me I’m being an idiot as well?”
“Actually, I’m here to ask if you’ll e-mail Sweet Dreams to me, since you’ve apparently finished your first read-through.” He looks up, but Freya looks sincere, although her brows are knit in a way that spells trouble for someone.
“Yes, fine, shouldn’t be a problem. I have business matters to take care of this morning so I can’t get around to doing editing quite yet, but I’ll get the file to you before I get a start.”
“That’s fine. Mithian wants to see you, by the way, she’s down seeing Elena right now but she’ll be up again within an hour. They’ve decided it’s the most efficient use of both of their time to have their editing meetings down at the reception desk.”
“Good for them. They’re getting on well, then?”
Freya smiles. “Yes, they were friendly before but this seems to be a whole new level. You know how your editors get with their pet writers.”
“I suppose I do.” She starts back out of his office, apparently satisfied with whatever they’ve said, but he interrupts her before she can leave. “I forgot to ask when I came in, but how was the date last night?”
“Better than I was expecting, actually, I’m glad I didn’t have to cancel. Thanks for watching out for Merlin, he probably appreciated you being there more than he would have appreciated me.” He raises an eyebrow. “I tend to fuss,” she explains. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to make a few phone calls, and if Sweet Dreams were to show up in my inbox while I did I certainly wouldn’t object.”
“I’ll keep it in mind,” Arthur says, and manages a smile while she walks out.
From there, the day goes downhill. Arthur spends the morning mired down in paperwork and phone calls that he’d really rather not have to make while Freya reads outside his door. Mithian’s check-in is a bright spot, but she’s twenty minutes later than she’d thought she would be since she was off giggling with Elena and he has to interrupt it and send her apologetically away when he gets a phone call from one of their lawyers about an author needing to be let out of her contract and has to take care of it. Morgana shakes her head sadly at him whenever he sees her, Freya’s got something on her mind, he runs into Gwaine when he stops by graphics and gets laughed at for no reason he can discern, Leon’s behind with covers for the Avalon Imprint, and all he really wants to do is shut himself in his office and start preparing some preliminary editing suggestions for Merlin.
Sometime around two, he catches a few minutes to send an e-mail to him, even if it can’t be about editing.
From: Arthur
To: Merlin
Subject: How are you?
Tell me how awful it is to have a broken arm so I can feel a bit less shitty about how my day is going.
It takes another hour to get around to his e-mail again, between soothing a disgruntled author who doesn’t want her book pushed back to spring even though it will likely sell better then and going over financial reports from his various departments. By that time, he’s nearly ready to strangle someone, so he’s glad when the only e-mail that pops up and doesn’t seem to be part of a chain that he’s only included in on a courtesy is from Merlin.
From: Merlin
To: Arthur
Subject: Re: How are you?
Sorry to disappoint, but aside from some pain today isn’t awful at all. Gwen stayed home from work to coddle me and I’ve been getting some edits done even if it’s slow going. Definitely glad I’ve been working myself so hard recently, I don’t feel too behind. Sounds like you’re having a bad one, though, what’s up?
From: Arthur
To: Merlin
Subject: Re: How are you?
Just one of those days. Not enough time, half the people I need to do business with are grouchy and the other half, led by Morgana, are giving me pitying looks for no reason I can fathom. Also she gave me a hard time of it this morning for stealing your tie and shirt (which is so uncomfortable, I cannot tell you, if I’m going to keep falling asleep at your flat I am going to start storing clothing there). Nothing too terrible, so I haven’t got any stories to entertain you with.
Although if Morgana asks you about a threesome with Freya and me you should feel free to strenuously deny, or not if you want a better story for your broken arm.
From: Merlin
To: Arthur
Subject: Re: How are you?
… I’m not going to ask why you think threesomes lead to broken arms, as I suspect the answer may be kinky enough to change my perceptions of you quite a lot. But, um, thanks for the offer, I suppose?
Sorry your day is shit, wish I could help. Can’t even offer a drink tonight, that’s frowned upon while I’m on painkillers. Maybe we could have lunch tomorrow, or something? Should be feeling with it enough to leave the flat by then.
From: Arthur
To: Merlin
Subject: Re: How are you?
Oh, so you didn’t want me telling Morgana about how Freya tied you up and spanked you until you writhed so hard you actually fractured your arm trying to get free?
Lunch would be good, I would come over tonight but I’m going to be way too exhausted by then.
From: Merlin
To: Arthur
Subject: JESUS CHRIST
GWEN WAS READING THAT OVER MY SHOULDER, YOU ABSOLUTE PILLOCK.
Offer of lunch rescinded, she knows it didn’t actually happen and she’s still looking at me like she doesn’t quite know what to do with me.
Also, give Freya a bit of credit, she’d be a better dominatrix than to tie me up in any position that would cause enough pressure to break an arm. Though I wouldn’t put it past you, we would have to teach you how to do bondage.
And you’re underestimating my ability to take it.
“Arthur? Are you okay?”
Arthur manages to tear his gaze away from his screen, even if he can’t quite get his mind off the image of Merlin, tied up and being spanked and liking it, which is more compelling than ninety percent of the porn he sees on a daily basis even if it’s not at all what generally interests him. Freya’s standing at his door again, looking concerned. “Yes, I’m fine, sorry, did you need something?”
“You just look a bit flushed,” she says slowly. “And you don’t usually when you’re going over financials, and you’ve been quite involved in your screen … oh, sorry, did I interrupt you finally getting back to the Sweet Dreams notes? I can leave you alone if so. I’ve been enjoying it, and I know how you hate to be torn from his books.”
“No, I’m just a bit warm, is all, thank you. The financials are finished with, though, if you want to run them over to Geoffrey.”
“I’ll do that, then.” She gives him another worried look. “And then maybe get you some water. Why don’t you take a ten-minute break before your next call? There’s nothing concrete on the schedule right now.”
“Yes, ma’am,” he says as dryly as he can manage, and waves her off once she’s got the papers.
And then he’s stuck trying not to think about Merlin, again, the way he drew unconsciously closer in his sleep, the way his ears still turn red whenever Arthur tries to talk about editing his sex scenes in public, the way anyone who’s ever read romance novels knows that at least some of the sex scenes are based off what the author enjoys and how Arthur’s never found an author whose sex he likes as well as Merlin’s, and the fact that his “favorite person” comments always come out far more earnest than he means them to, and he still can’t stop thinking about tying Merlin up and spanking him.
Shit.
Shit.
*
Part Three
“My God, you’re such a cheap date.”
“I am,” Arthur says with as much dignity as he can muster while leaning most of his weight on Merlin’s shoulder, “no such thing.”
“You can spend a whole night drinking violently pink cocktails,” Merlin continues, unimpaired, “but put a pint and a few shots in front of you and you’re stumbling. And you call me the girl?”
“You’re the one who got so drunk at his signing party that he … you, you ended up singing because you decided you were in a musical, so you’re the lightweight. Also, I had more than you.” Arthur is proud of the amount of that he gets out without slurring.
“Indeed you did, and you should be grateful that I still remember the way back to my flat. Not to mention grateful that the couch is comfortable.”
Arthur blinks at him. “Gwen, though.”
“She won’t bring Lancelot back to the flat, and it’s not as if you’ve never slept there before. Whoops, don’t step in that, Arthur, I really don’t think that’s water,” says Merlin, steering him around something mysterious on the pavement. “I think I’ve still got a pair of your trackpants and Gwen’s got a t-shirt or two from an old boyfriend so you don’t have to sleep in your suit.”
“There’s a reason you’re my favorite,” Arthur announces with an expansive gesture, and Merlin props him up a bit more since that nearly overbalanced them. He hasn’t been this drunk in quite some time, it would be rather embarrassing if it were anyone but Merlin taking care of him.
“Author?” inquires Merlin.
“Person.”
He doesn’t need to look at Merlin to know he’s rolling his eyes. “Of course, Arthur. Come on, here’s my building, up the steps, you’re so heavy and you’d better be so nice to me in your e-mails tomorrow, who thought a piss-up was a good idea on a weeknight?”
Arthur winces, since that was all him. “I’ll go in late, I haven’t got any meetings in the morning and Freya will only judge me a little bit.”
“Shut up, Freya adores you as much as everyone else does, she just doesn’t like to pander to your ego. Hold yourself up for a minute, I need to get us through the door.” Arthur obediently leans against the side of the building, since his legs are getting a bit wobbly in the wake of the Scotch. And the beer. And the other sort of beer. And the shots of whatever that was Merlin got them.
“Nobody panders to my ego, Morgana sets a horrible example,” he manages to mutter belatedly when Merlin finally drags him through the door and prods him in the general direction of the stairs, because of course he hasn’t got an elevator in his building. At least he only lives on the second floor.
“Yes, your life as the chief editor and CEO of the ever-so-successful Camelot Publishing is a terribly difficult-watch your step, I can’t take you anywhere.” Merlin lags behind him and half-pushes him up the steps, even though Arthur’s mostly got his feet under him now and could probably do more of the work if he cared to. It’s nice, though, feeling taken care of; he doesn’t really have anyone to do it outside the office, and inside the office Freya runs his life efficiently but doesn’t fuss over him.
By the time they make it to Merlin’s door, after much more exasperated pushing from Merlin and Arthur insisting for no reason beyond annoying him that his life is indeed terribly dull, they’re both laughing, muffling it into their hands so Merlin’s neighbors don’t come out to scold them. The door opens before Merlin can finish unlocking it, and there’s Gwen, hands on her hips and a smile twitching at her mouth. “I could hear the two of you coming from the street. Hello, Arthur.”
“You are meant to be on a date,” he reminds her.
“I got in half an hour ago, because Lancelot is a gentleman. Are you sleeping here? Merlin, is he sleeping here?”
Merlin gently pushes Arthur through the door and into the cozy little flat he and Gwen have lived in since Arthur’s known him. “Yes, I wasn’t going to send him halfway across town when he’s this drunk and knackered, even if it is a work night. I texted Freya an hour ago to say he’ll be late, at least.”
Arthur frowns at him. “I’m quite certain that I didn’t tell you to do that.”
Gwen looks between them, lips pursed, and then shrugs. “Just don’t keep me up all night, I have to work in the morning. Arthur, want me to wake you up when I get up?”
“Apparently my office has been informed that I’ll be late.”
“Whatever you say, then,” she says, and kisses Merlin on the cheek before wandering into her bedroom and shutting the door.
Arthur manages to shake off some of his fogginess, now that he’s in the quiet and the dark, and he goes to the kitchen for a glass of water while Merlin goes into his room for an extra blanket or two for the couch. They get ready for bed in near-silence after that, since Arthur’s never quite gotten over being unnerved by Gwen, mostly because she always looks at him as if she’s terribly disappointed in him and waiting for him to break her heart. Merlin gives him blankets and pajamas and finds him painkillers, takes some himself, and goes to bed without further ado, all the amusement from earlier gone so he just looks worn out.
Exhausted though he may be, Arthur can’t get to sleep right away. His flat is little more than a place to crash at night, one he chose when he insisted Morgana take their father’s house after he died since he got the company, but it’s still odd being out of his own bed. The bookshelves are beside the couch, so he idly scans the titles while he waits to sleep-he’s too drunk to concentrate on reading anything, but it’s something to do. He’s been shown the bottom shelf before, stuffed full of all of Merlin’s copies of his own books. Most of them from Camelot Publishing, of course, under his pseudonym, and a few copies of short story anthologies that he’s published erotica in, as well as the one odd mathematics periodical that sticks out like a sore thumb (where Merlin co-authored an article in his last year of university since apparently he was some sort of maths prodigy before the romance novels, and Arthur’s never got an explanation out of him about that).
“Can’t sleep?” asks Gwen, and Arthur nearly jumps out of his skin. “Sorry, I thought you would have heard my door opening, I wanted a glass of water.”
“Guess I wasn’t paying attention.” He’s only slurring a little now, alcohol mostly wearing off and headache starting in to take its place despite the painkillers. “Was just looking at Merlin’s books. I always forget how many he’s got even though I’ve edited them all.”
“You two have known each other for years now, and he’s a fast writer,” she says, and there’s that disappointment like always, or something close to it. “You both probably made a joke of it, but you should have seen his face when he got that e-mail about the new imprint. It means a lot, that you’re doing this for him.”
“With him,” Arthur corrects, since that’s the operative word that everybody seems to miss, even Merlin. “It means something to more than just the two of us.”
Gwen softens at that, though he couldn’t say why, and relaxes her posture. “With him, then. It still means a great deal, to the two of you and everyone else. Now go to sleep, would you, or no amount of coffee will make you presentable for work and Morgana will call me to complain.”
As if that’s some sort of permission, Arthur drifts off before she’s even finished getting her glass of water. In the morning, when he wakes up when she starts getting ready for work despite himself, everything after Merlin’s pub is a bit foggy, but he remembers chatting with Gwen and she’s smiling at him this morning, not looking disappointed. He’s not sure why, but he figures she has her own reasons, and he doesn’t need to pry.
*
From: Merlin
To: Arthur
Subject: Whoops
So, I was expecting Freya to answer when I called so I just said that you forgot your tie at my place last night and then it was Morgana. Incoming?
Sorry.
“Merlin has your tie,” Morgana drawls from Arthur’s office doorway.
Arthur has a hangover and wants to do anything but deal with this, but it’s too late to hide and Freya’s off running something down to graphics, where she undoubtedly got distracted leaning over Leon’s shoulder to see what he’s got for searching for stock for the Tintagel covers so far. He makes a mental note to fire her later and gives Morgana an insincere smile. “Yes, I’ve just been informed by e-mail, which he ought to have done straight away instead of giving us over to the gossips. I was drunk, I slept on his couch, as I have done quite a few times before.”
“Yes, but you haven’t done it since Tintagel.”
He stares at her. “I fail to see the significance.”
“Of course you do, sweetie. Since you read The Hunter’s Heart, maybe?” He stares some more, and she sighs. “Since you read his gay porn for the first time and-” She breaks off to make a wanking motion explicit enough that he almost hisses at her to shut the door. “Oh, don’t tell me you didn’t.”
“First off, it wasn’t the first time I’d read his porn, gay or straight, by any means. He’s published in anthologies and online, remember? And second, of course I didn’t. It’s hard to get turned on when you’re taking a red pen to something, you of all people should know that.”
“It’s not like I haven’t finished a day of work and gone home to make very good friends with my vibrator before,” she says breezily, and lovely, he’s going to have to spend the next five years of his life trying to erase that from his memory.
“Thank you, that was an image I wanted to have. Now, were you visiting to do anything besides play secretary for me and make erroneous assumptions about my love life? Merlin is my best friend, has been for quite some time, it doesn’t matter what sort of romance novel he’s writing this week.”
Morgana rolls her eyes and tilts her head to the side. “Does he know you’re bisexual?”
That trips him up, mostly because it seems to come out of nowhere. “I would assume so. I don’t think I’ve said it outright, but I’m not shy about appreciating either gender while we’re out and I’m certain I’ve been on a date or two with men since I’ve known him.”
It’s Morgana’s turn to stare at him, and then she grins, the exact way she always does when something is going to go horribly wrong. “You know, I would explain all the ways that this is going to turn into a disaster just because you and Merlin are both so hopelessly stupid, but I think I’ll enjoy it more this way. One of my authors has a gay romance with werewolves, by the way, that’s the real reason I came to see you. Tintagel or Avalon?”
“Perhaps we can put the logos for both on it, show that it’s supported by the whole company. Your author, your edit, though, I don’t have the patience to work out consistency of werewolf soulbonds or whatever the fuck it is you get up to at your desk.”
She leans closer, hisses “Knotting” in his ear, and laughs at the resulting expression on his face. Arthur throws the closest writing utensil at her. “Yes, definitely your edit, now out, you’ve exceeded the amount of times per week that you’re allowed to traumatize me, thank you.”
“Like children,” says Morgana, and swans out, stopping to chat with Freya for a few minutes as she returns just in time to miss the whole awkward interlude.
Arthur indulges himself in resting his forehead on his desk for a moment before straightening up and opening a return message to Merlin.
From: Arthur
To: Merlin
Subject: Re: Whoops
You could have just e-mailed me in the first place, and then I would have been spared Morgana chatting about vibrators and whether you know I’m bisexual and werewolf porn and for the record, Merlin, there is very little that could make me pawn you off on another editor, but werewolves might be in that category.
I am traumatized and going to be unable to think of anything pleasantly sexual all day, which is a bit of a problem in my profession, as you might guess. I suppose that means it’s a good day for paperwork.
He’s expecting a quick response mocking him for being traumatized by his sister, but he doesn’t get anything until midafternoon.
From: Merlin
To: Arthur
Subject: Re: Re: Whoops
Thank you for sharing your trauma, Arthur, it’s really big of you. I’m guessing that means I’m not getting any editing notes today, in which case I’ll have more chance to look over the other Tintagel possibles, two are almost ready for you and the other two need a bit more brushing up before I send them your way, they’re a bit … well, they need some pre-you editing, let’s say that.
And I … didn’t. Know that you’re bisexual, I mean. Suppose I ought to have guessed, or something? One would think a writer would be more observant, I guess.
“You look confused,” says Freya from the doorway. “Belated hangover?”
“No, I’ve been over that for hours. Just an odd e-mail.”
She squints at him for a moment, then steps fully into his office. “From Merlin?”
“Yes, actually.” It isn’t even Merlin’s awkwardness about not knowing Arthur’s bisexual that confuses him-Arthur doesn’t make a point of telling people, mostly because it’s irrelevant. After reading flowery porn all day, he rarely wants to have sex, and when he does he generally doesn’t have the energy to pick up men. If he got into a relationship it would be one thing, but running the company doesn’t give him the time to build the relationships with people that would necessitate telling Merlin, and he doesn’t expect Merlin to pay attention to everyone he checks out at the bars. He’s mostly wondering about the first paragraph. It’s not the first time Merlin’s sent him a message saying he’s got a bit more editing to do before his next book comes to Arthur, but usually he’s both more flippant and more specific, talking about grammar or an overblown scene that Arthur would mock. This time, there’s just that odd awkwardness, the lack of specificity. He doesn’t know how to explain it to Freya, though, even though she knows both of them well. “Just talking about Morgana, and his next MSes.”
Freya nods slowly. “He e-mailed me over lunch, seemed a bit … of.” She hesitates. “Is everything okay?”
“I’m fine, if that’s what you’re asking. I don’t know about Merlin, we haven’t e-mailed much today.” And that’s still more food for thought, exactly how often they spend most of Arthur’s workday exchanging periodic e-mails and how odd it feels when Merlin takes a while to respond. “It could be I said something while I was drunk last night, though I don’t remember saying anything awful and I wasn’t quite blackout drunk.”
She bites her lip, and it’s obvious there’s something she could say, but she shakes her head instead. “If he were annoyed with you, he would tell you, just like he has a hundred times before. I’m sure that whatever it is, it will blow over. I just … thought I would ask. Maybe I’ll take him out to dinner later, see if there’s anything he wants to get off his chest. Could be boy troubles, I know you two don’t really talk about that.”
Arthur opens his mouth to say that he always knows when Merlin has a boyfriend and when they break up, but then again, that really is all he knows. One week it’s Sorry, can’t do dinner, I’m out with Gilli-yeah, he’s the new boyfriend or Thursday night is date night with this one, Edwin is big on routine and eventually it’s Oh, no, I’m not busy, we ended it a few days ago, nothing traumatic and Men are all such fuckers, why can’t I just marry Freya. “Yes, by all means,” he says after a few too many seconds. “I won’t even pry afterwards, just make sure he’s okay.”
Freya nods. “I will. And now, I mostly came in to say you’ve got an agent who’s left a message asking if lesbian romance is going to be part of Tintagel as well.”
“Doesn’t sell as well, but I don’t want to discriminate, I just haven’t had time to go actively recruiting yet and nobody seems to have manuscripts for it they’re jumping on me with, forward me the contact info and I’ll get in touch in the morning, I’ve got too much to wrap up this afternoon for that discussion.”
“Right, I’ll get on that. Thanks, Arthur.” She pauses in the doorway. “Are you sure you’re okay? Merlin may be a bit odd, but this isn’t exactly normal post-hangover behavior from you, either.”
“I’m fine,” he says, and waves her out.
*
From: Merlin
To: Freya
Subject: ???
Are you on your lunch break yet? Please tell me you’re on your lunch break, Gwen is having lunch with Lance or I wouldn’t bother you but I need to talk to someone or I will quite possibly do something really stupid.
From: Freya
To: Merlin
Subject: Re: ???
Yes, sorry for the wait, I was just finishing up a phone call. What’s the matter? Need me to call?
From: Merlin
To: Freya
Subject: Re: Re: ???
No, probably won’t make much sense that way, it’s probably best for me to do this over e-mail. Having minor Arthur-related freakout. Are you free to instant message for a bit? Faster than e-mail, won’t take up as much of your lunch break.
Freya: Here I am, Arthur isn’t paying very close attention and I’m technically on break anyway, what’s the problem?
Merlin: Has it somehow magically escaped my notice for the past several years that Arthur is bisexual, or is he having a sexuality crisis brought on by Tintagel?
Freya: Oh, Christ.
Freya: Yes, I’ve known for ages, after he sent a disgruntled one night stand flowers because he’s Arthur.
Merlin: And you didn’t tell me???
Freya: I have been to the pub with you two when you were both a bit buzzed, do you really not notice him checking out other blokes’ arses?
Merlin: … No?
Freya: Probably because you’re too busy staring at him like a character in one of your novels. Look, maybe I should have told you, but does it make that much of a difference in the end?
Merlin: YES because now I am getting my hopes up because I can’t quit replaying all the times he’s told me I’m his favorite person and last night he was drunk and all over me and he’s even starting to win Gwen over and this really wasn’t supposed to happen, I am the stupidest gay cliché known to mankind.
Freya: You should seduce him.
Merlin: what
Freya: Find out one way or the other.
Freya: Look, Arthur is wonderful, but he’s terribly oblivious-would have to be, not to figure out that Roland and Alan are the two of you with your hair colors switched.
Freya: He’s spent his whole life around romance novels and he still doesn’t get that you’re in love with him.
Merlin: Or he’s just NOT INTERESTED.
Freya: He’s so determined not to be his father, is it any wonder he doesn’t realize he’s in his own version of his parents’ love story? But he cares about you more than anyone, and he thinks your porn is hot, and that’s a better beginning than most would get. It doesn’t take a genius to know Arthur’s a bit jaded by written sex.
Merlin: You’ve been talking to Morgana too much.
Merlin: And how could you possibly know that, I refuse to believe that you and Arthur discuss my porn, because that would mean I have to spend the next ten years hiding under my bed.
Freya: It became rather obvious when he drank most of a bottle of water and started fiddling with his tie halfway into the first reading session he had for HH, and then when I had to bring him another before the end.
Merlin: DON’T TELL ME THESE THINGS. I am already having to edit the book with the pirates and one of my contemporaries because now I’m horribly afraid that he’s just going to /know/ somehow.
Freya: Would it be so bad if he figured it out?
Merlin: … Not if he said yes.
Merlin: I’ve got to go. Have a good afternoon. Thanks.
Freya: You do not have to go!
Message not sent.
Freya: MERLIN.
Message not sent.
From: Freya
To: Morgana
Subject: Arthur and Merlin
Don’t know what happened this morning, but I think you might have done more harm than good. Both sounding a little lost, and not in the hungover sense.
From: Morgana
To: Freya
Subject: Re: Arthur and Merlin
Someone’s got to do something.
Have a little faith. They’ll have to figure themselves out sooner or later.
*
It was easy to forget that they were friends, that they were each other’s fallbacks, that once in secondary school they’d promised each other that if neither had anyone by age thirty they would give it a try, with the lights so low and the music was loud. “We should-dance with other people, maybe,” said Elliot, because he was starting to think that Lucas’s hands at his hips and the way his eyes almost never left the love bite on Elliot’s neck meant something, and there was nothing more foolish than that.
“Do you think so?”
Elliot swallowed, watched the way Lucas’s eyes followed the bob of his Adam’s apple. “I do.”
Lucas pressed even closer, until Elliot could feel him hard against his hip and had to arch into it, unthinking. “I don’t,” he breathed right in his ear, and when he pulled back it was just far enough to trail kisses across his jaw. “You’re my favorite person, God, why wouldn’t I want to?”
“Then why didn’t you before?”
Lucas pressed his lips right over the love bite but didn’t suck to overlay it with his own. “I didn’t figure it out until you were with Sam, and I didn’t want to break you up. And then when you did, God, I thought it was my chance, and I wanted to wait until it wouldn’t be a rebound but when you went and got off with that bloke last night, I wanted so badly for it to be me …”
“Arthur!” says Freya, in the tone that means she’s definitely said it more than once.
“Reading,” he replies without looking up from his screen, because she knows he got the first of Merlin’s contemporary manuscripts in his e-mail this morning after weeks of Merlin barely being in contact aside from sending him edits and that he isn’t to be interrupted unless the building starts burning down.
“I know, but you’ve got to listen for a minute. I need to leave for the day so you won’t have me guarding the door. I’ve forwarded all your calls to Elena.”
Arthur blinks up at her, tearing his eyes away from what he’s willing to bet is going to be the book’s first sex scene, since the buildup is already half-killing him in unedited form. “Wait, leaving? Why are you leaving? Are you ill?”
“No, Merlin just called to say he’s in A&E and needs someone to pick him up, he got in a bit of an accident on his bicycle and Gwen’s out of town for the day so she can’t.”
“God, why didn’t you tell me?” Arthur slams his laptop shut and stuffs it in his briefcase without bothering to shut it down properly. “I’ll go with you, if you’re forwarding my calls and everyone’s expecting me to be reading, there’s nothing that won’t keep until we’ve made sure he’s okay. Did he sound okay?”
Freya smiles at him and doesn’t try to talk him out of going, much to his surprise. “He sounded a bit frayed, so I didn’t get many details, but I think he might have broken his arm. He swerved to miss someone’s dog that ran right into his way and a car didn’t swerve quite enough to miss him.”
Arthur grabs his jacket and ushers her out of the office. “Of course he got in a car accident trying to rescue a dog. Only Merlin.”
She gets her purse as they pass her desk and grabs her phone out as they go, sending off a text, presumably to let someone know that the CEO and his assistant will be out of the office for the rest of the afternoon. Arthur resists the urge to text Merlin incessantly to make sure he’s conscious and not off doing anything else foolish, since he most likely won’t answer if his arm is broken and he’s been sporadic at answering texts since that last piss-up anyway. Freya mutters something that he pretends not to hear on the grounds of not wanting to fire her today as they get into the first taxi that pulls over, and then gives the driver the name of the hospital Merlin’s in.
It’s not a long drive, but Arthur fidgets the whole way, still not completely in reality after getting pulled from his reading so suddenly and only getting more worried the more he comes aware because Merlin’s a bit accident prone, yes, but he’s not landed in the hospital since Arthur’s known him.
“How’s the latest book?” Freya inquires when he finally manages to look at her instead of staring out the window and willing the traffic to move faster.
“Good. Really good work, actually, I didn’t even start off worried like I did with Hunter’s Heart. Best-friends-get-together kind of story, that’s one of his favorite ideas to play with.”
She looks at her lap. “Yes, I’ve noticed that. What’s the title?”
Arthur neglects to mention that he had to send back the file entitled Lolita with the message I shan’t read it until you’re serious, since even when Merlin is being inexplicably uncommunicative he’s still a bit of a git. “Sweet Dreams, which I suppose I can’t fault.”
“No, it’s not half bad for him.”
They chat about the book the rest of the way to the hospital, where Arthur pays the cabbie and lets Freya direct him since he has no idea where to go once they’re inside. She talks with a nurse and gets them led to Merlin, who’s dozing in a chair with his left arm in a cast and a sling. Freya rushes forward to coo while Arthur stands awkwardly back, finally connecting that he just left his office two hours early when Freya could easily have hauled Merlin back to his flat and looked after him until Gwen got him.
Eventually, Merlin looks up from blearily assuring Freya that he’s fine and his arm isn’t going to suddenly fall off and blinks at Arthur. “Wait, you’re here. What are you doing here? Don’t you have a job?”
“I have a job,” says Freya, but she’s smiling and turns around to talk to the nurse again a second later about how many painkillers Merlin’s allowed to have and when he needs to make an appointment for a checkup.
Since she’s left him at sea and Merlin is still staring at him wide-eyed and more confused than can really be good for him, Arthur casts about for something to say. It’s never this awkward between them, but a few weeks of silence and the hospital have made everything far too strange. “I suppose I ought to have left you in Freya’s capable hands, but I was … worried,” he manages, since Morgana frequently reminds him that it doesn’t kill him to admit he has feelings.
Merlin makes a face at his arm. “This is going to be hell to type with, edits might slow down some.”
“Don’t worry about it,” Arthur assures him instantly. “We’re ahead of schedule on Hunter’s Heart anyway, and now I’ve got Sweet Dreams to go through as well, and it’s not as though I lack for work, so take as much time as you need to recover.”
“Shouldn’t take me too long to recover enough to work, I can type one-handed when I need to.” Merlin yawns. “I hate painkillers, I feel all fuzzy.”
“Fuzzy is better than whining,” says Freya, finishing with the nurse and pulling Merlin gently to his feet. Arthur grabs Merlin’s little bag of belongings. “They’re releasing you as long as someone watches you for the next twenty-four hours, that bump on your head is nasty enough to keep an eye on. I’ve got a date tonight, when’s Gwen meant to be home?”
Merlin stumbles along until Arthur comes up to his other side and takes a bit of his weight, doing his best not to jostle his arm. “Not until midnight, probably, but I’ll be okay for a few hours, not the first time I’ve had a concussion.”
Freya sighs. “It’s not a problem, I’ll just cancel the date, it’s nobody special-”
“You’ll do no such thing,” says Arthur. “I’ll stay with him. If you don’t mind, Merlin?”
“You’ve got things to do, you should be at work now,” says Merlin as they steer him towards the door.
“I can read your book just as easily while you’re snoring in your flat as I can in my office. Better, perhaps, Morgana is less likely to poke her nose in and cause trouble.”
Merlin doesn’t look very happy. “If you’re sure.”
“I am.”
“Good, then,” says Freya, pushing open the door to let them out. “I wasn’t relishing the thought of canceling, I admit. Let’s get a cab, shall we?”
Merlin sleeps the entire cab ride to his flat, and he’s grouchy and groggy when they wake him to get out and up the stairs. Arthur gives serious thought to just picking him up and carrying him, but that would do his arm no favors and he’s not about to make things worse, so he just returns the favor that Merlin did for him when he was drunk and pushes him gently up the stairs from behind while Freya coaxes him up from the front. They get inside with a minimum of fuss and bother and Arthur is left to get Merlin in his pajamas and into bed while Freya gets water and pills and whatever else they might need.
“My bike is ruined,” says Merlin while Arthur averts his eyes to let him get changed.
“Lucky you’re a well-to-do author who can afford a new one, then,” Arthur returns, and reaches out to grab him and keep him from falling when he miscalculates his ability to put on trousers with only one arm. “Try again, I really have no desire to dress you while you’re in this state.”
“Do you have a desire to dress me while I’m in any state?”
“One would hope you’ve been able to dress yourself since you were a child, Merlin, though given some of your outfits that is debatable, I’ll admit.”
“Stop making fun of him, he’s injured and he can’t keep up,” Freya calls from the other side of the door. “Is he decent?”
Merlin hops a bit and finally makes it into the remainder of his clothes. “Yes, I’m fine, and I’m not six years old, both of you have seen me practically naked before.”
Freya comes in and sits him down on the bed, leaving him a glass of water and two pills on the way. “You can have the water now, but the pills need to wait a few hours. Are you hungry?” Merlin shakes his head, and Arthur pulls the covers up even though he gets a glare. “Nothing too heavy when he is hungry, Arthur, but other than that it’s just common sense. Are you two going to be okay if I leave you? If I leave now I have time for a bit of a shop before my date.”
“Go ahead,” says Merlin, and she kisses him on the forehead and gives Arthur a little smile before she leaves. “Am I allowed to sleep, oh mighty doctor? I’m sort of knackered.”
“Yes, I just have to wake you up periodically and make sure you make as much sense as you ever do.”
Merlin bites his lip. “You don’t have to stay, you know. I wasn’t kidding when I said I would be okay on my own.”
Arthur sighs and tries not to look at the bandage farther up on Merlin’s arm than the cast, where the pavement rubbed his skin raw. “Indulge me, Merlin. Freya nearly gave me a heart attack earlier when she said you were at A&E, and I can read your book just as easily here as I can there. Just go to sleep.” The way Merlin looks at him, glassy-eyed with pain and drugs but still a bit wary, makes him blurt out a question he’s been avoiding. “Have I done anything wrong?”
“No, no, God, of course not,” says Merlin, sounding surprised enough that it’s a comfort.
He can’t help pressing, just a bit. “It’s only that you’ve been a bit quiet, lately.”
It takes Merlin long enough to answer that Arthur wonders if he’s fallen asleep. “I’ve been editing. And I’ve had some things to think about. It’s fine. We’re fine. I promise.”
After that, Merlin settles in to sleep and Arthur plugs his laptop in and goes to the other side of the bed to sit and read.
“We’ve always said the friendship is more important,” said Elliot, but it was hard to put any conviction behind it.
“Just because I want you doesn’t mean we have to stop being friends.” Lucas kissed him, swift and sure. “I know I should wait, but if you have time to think, you’ll have time to say no, and you can’t tell me you’ve never thought about it.”
Elliot hadn’t, honestly, years of being friends and knowing they were both gay nonetheless. There’d been the odd fantasy, but he’d never really thought about what it would be like, if hugs at the door turned into kisses, if they went out to the clubs and always left together at the end instead of having one dance at the beginning of the night and maybe another later if the pickings were scarce. With Lucas’s hands hot through his clothes, though, it was hard not to think about it. “I suppose … I suppose all we can do is try.”
Arthur wakes up at one in the morning, hours after making Merlin cheese on toast for dinner and letting him have his painkillers before coaxing him back to sleep, with his laptop shut on his lap and his hand tangled in Merlin’s hair, Merlin sprawled across his leg. It takes him a second to figure out what woke him until he looks up to find Gwen in the doorway, standing and watching them with an expression he can’t quite decipher. A second later, she nods, a smile forming, and Arthur barely has time to nod and smile in return before she shuts the door. He turns to check on Merlin one last time and falls back asleep before he can do more than put his laptop off to the side.
*
“That is yesterday’s suit, your shirt doesn’t fit properly, and you’re wearing a plaid tie,” says Morgana gleefully when she walks into his office five minutes after he gets there. “The rumor mill is all abuzz about you and Freya leaving for some Merlin-related reason yesterday, so I can only assume that you vigorously shagged him all night and had to steal his clothes this morning.”
Arthur rubs his temples and wonders what the chances are that if he pretends he can’t hear her she’ll go away. Probably quite low, since that didn’t even work when they were children. “And in what way would Freya be involved in that?”
Morgana leers. “You tell me.”
“Merlin broke his arm, I stayed the night at his flat and woke up too late to go back to mine for a fresh shirt. Thank you as ever for your concern about my nonexistent sex life.”
“Is he all right?”
“Well enough to be complaining this morning about how slow this is going to make typing for the next few weeks, at least. I’ve told him not to worry about it, two manuscripts to edit is certainly enough to be going on with for the moment.”
Morgana hums quietly, and when he looks up at her again she’s looking at him speculatively. “You must have been worried, to leave the office.”
“Of course I was, is there any particular reason that I shouldn’t have been? He’s my best friend, after all.”
That answer obviously doesn’t give her what she wants, because she switches tacks. “And how is the newer one? Everyone’s waiting to see if it’s as good as The Hunter’s Heart.”
“Possibly better, though Hunter’s Heart is coming on by leaps and bounds as we edit, might even get it down to copy-editing soon, although Merlin’s injury might slow us down some. He’s always done well with the contemporaries, more chance to pull from reality.”
Morgana blinks at him like he’s surprised her. “What on earth do you mean by that?”
“Oh, you know, the little things all authors do. Like how the heroine from his last contemporary always forgot her reading glasses on her head like Gwen does when she’s tired, and how one of his heroes had a fondness for pet names about the same time that Gwaine went around calling everyone ‘darling.’”
“I can honestly say I’d never noticed.”
“You don’t edit him, so I wouldn’t expect you to.”
For a second, she just watches him, eyes a bit narrowed, and then she hums thoughtfully. “What sort of things are showing up in his Tintagel romances, out of curiosity?”
“Nothing much ever shows up in his historicals-Roland’s got a ring he wears like I wear my mother’s, but I don’t recall anything else much. Sweet Dreams seems to be rife with it, though, even down to one of the characters calling the other his favorite person when he’s being affectionate.”
She raises her eyebrows. “As Merlin does to you?”
“As I do to Merlin, not that it’s any of your business.” She starts laughing, hand over her mouth. “For God’s sake, Morgana, what?”
“It’s like you’re being willfully ignorant, I really can’t talk to you when you’re being like this,” she announces, and barely manages to get her face straight before striding right out of his office.
It takes less than a minute for Freya to appear at the door. “That was certainly an interesting conversation.”
“Oh good, so we’re dispensing with the fallacy that I have any privacy whatsoever, then,” Arthur says into his hands. “Are you here to tell me I’m being an idiot as well?”
“Actually, I’m here to ask if you’ll e-mail Sweet Dreams to me, since you’ve apparently finished your first read-through.” He looks up, but Freya looks sincere, although her brows are knit in a way that spells trouble for someone.
“Yes, fine, shouldn’t be a problem. I have business matters to take care of this morning so I can’t get around to doing editing quite yet, but I’ll get the file to you before I get a start.”
“That’s fine. Mithian wants to see you, by the way, she’s down seeing Elena right now but she’ll be up again within an hour. They’ve decided it’s the most efficient use of both of their time to have their editing meetings down at the reception desk.”
“Good for them. They’re getting on well, then?”
Freya smiles. “Yes, they were friendly before but this seems to be a whole new level. You know how your editors get with their pet writers.”
“I suppose I do.” She starts back out of his office, apparently satisfied with whatever they’ve said, but he interrupts her before she can leave. “I forgot to ask when I came in, but how was the date last night?”
“Better than I was expecting, actually, I’m glad I didn’t have to cancel. Thanks for watching out for Merlin, he probably appreciated you being there more than he would have appreciated me.” He raises an eyebrow. “I tend to fuss,” she explains. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to make a few phone calls, and if Sweet Dreams were to show up in my inbox while I did I certainly wouldn’t object.”
“I’ll keep it in mind,” Arthur says, and manages a smile while she walks out.
From there, the day goes downhill. Arthur spends the morning mired down in paperwork and phone calls that he’d really rather not have to make while Freya reads outside his door. Mithian’s check-in is a bright spot, but she’s twenty minutes later than she’d thought she would be since she was off giggling with Elena and he has to interrupt it and send her apologetically away when he gets a phone call from one of their lawyers about an author needing to be let out of her contract and has to take care of it. Morgana shakes her head sadly at him whenever he sees her, Freya’s got something on her mind, he runs into Gwaine when he stops by graphics and gets laughed at for no reason he can discern, Leon’s behind with covers for the Avalon Imprint, and all he really wants to do is shut himself in his office and start preparing some preliminary editing suggestions for Merlin.
Sometime around two, he catches a few minutes to send an e-mail to him, even if it can’t be about editing.
From: Arthur
To: Merlin
Subject: How are you?
Tell me how awful it is to have a broken arm so I can feel a bit less shitty about how my day is going.
It takes another hour to get around to his e-mail again, between soothing a disgruntled author who doesn’t want her book pushed back to spring even though it will likely sell better then and going over financial reports from his various departments. By that time, he’s nearly ready to strangle someone, so he’s glad when the only e-mail that pops up and doesn’t seem to be part of a chain that he’s only included in on a courtesy is from Merlin.
From: Merlin
To: Arthur
Subject: Re: How are you?
Sorry to disappoint, but aside from some pain today isn’t awful at all. Gwen stayed home from work to coddle me and I’ve been getting some edits done even if it’s slow going. Definitely glad I’ve been working myself so hard recently, I don’t feel too behind. Sounds like you’re having a bad one, though, what’s up?
From: Arthur
To: Merlin
Subject: Re: How are you?
Just one of those days. Not enough time, half the people I need to do business with are grouchy and the other half, led by Morgana, are giving me pitying looks for no reason I can fathom. Also she gave me a hard time of it this morning for stealing your tie and shirt (which is so uncomfortable, I cannot tell you, if I’m going to keep falling asleep at your flat I am going to start storing clothing there). Nothing too terrible, so I haven’t got any stories to entertain you with.
Although if Morgana asks you about a threesome with Freya and me you should feel free to strenuously deny, or not if you want a better story for your broken arm.
From: Merlin
To: Arthur
Subject: Re: How are you?
… I’m not going to ask why you think threesomes lead to broken arms, as I suspect the answer may be kinky enough to change my perceptions of you quite a lot. But, um, thanks for the offer, I suppose?
Sorry your day is shit, wish I could help. Can’t even offer a drink tonight, that’s frowned upon while I’m on painkillers. Maybe we could have lunch tomorrow, or something? Should be feeling with it enough to leave the flat by then.
From: Arthur
To: Merlin
Subject: Re: How are you?
Oh, so you didn’t want me telling Morgana about how Freya tied you up and spanked you until you writhed so hard you actually fractured your arm trying to get free?
Lunch would be good, I would come over tonight but I’m going to be way too exhausted by then.
From: Merlin
To: Arthur
Subject: JESUS CHRIST
GWEN WAS READING THAT OVER MY SHOULDER, YOU ABSOLUTE PILLOCK.
Offer of lunch rescinded, she knows it didn’t actually happen and she’s still looking at me like she doesn’t quite know what to do with me.
Also, give Freya a bit of credit, she’d be a better dominatrix than to tie me up in any position that would cause enough pressure to break an arm. Though I wouldn’t put it past you, we would have to teach you how to do bondage.
And you’re underestimating my ability to take it.
“Arthur? Are you okay?”
Arthur manages to tear his gaze away from his screen, even if he can’t quite get his mind off the image of Merlin, tied up and being spanked and liking it, which is more compelling than ninety percent of the porn he sees on a daily basis even if it’s not at all what generally interests him. Freya’s standing at his door again, looking concerned. “Yes, I’m fine, sorry, did you need something?”
“You just look a bit flushed,” she says slowly. “And you don’t usually when you’re going over financials, and you’ve been quite involved in your screen … oh, sorry, did I interrupt you finally getting back to the Sweet Dreams notes? I can leave you alone if so. I’ve been enjoying it, and I know how you hate to be torn from his books.”
“No, I’m just a bit warm, is all, thank you. The financials are finished with, though, if you want to run them over to Geoffrey.”
“I’ll do that, then.” She gives him another worried look. “And then maybe get you some water. Why don’t you take a ten-minute break before your next call? There’s nothing concrete on the schedule right now.”
“Yes, ma’am,” he says as dryly as he can manage, and waves her off once she’s got the papers.
And then he’s stuck trying not to think about Merlin, again, the way he drew unconsciously closer in his sleep, the way his ears still turn red whenever Arthur tries to talk about editing his sex scenes in public, the way anyone who’s ever read romance novels knows that at least some of the sex scenes are based off what the author enjoys and how Arthur’s never found an author whose sex he likes as well as Merlin’s, and the fact that his “favorite person” comments always come out far more earnest than he means them to, and he still can’t stop thinking about tying Merlin up and spanking him.
Shit.
Shit.
*
Part Three