A Tale of Two Arthurs 3/3

[kathkin]

Arthur slammed the door of their flat and thanked whatever Gods were listening that Merlin was in rather than trapped in the depths of the university library.

“Merlin,” he said, seizing him as he wandered out of the living room. “Okay. I spoke to my father, he’s fine with us, but he wants to meet you.”

“Oh,” said Merlin. “That’s good, isn’t it?

“Yeah, it’s great,” said Arthur. “Except he’s coming over here seven o’clock today.”

“Oh,” said Merlin. Then, “Shit.”

“Pretty much, yeah,” said Arthur, snappish. “And we need to talk about clothes.”

Merlin looked down at himself. “Something wrong with what I’m wearing?”

“Yeah, no,” said Arthur. “You have a shirt, right?” Merlin looked blank. “As in, a proper shirt. With buttons and a collar.”

“Um?” said Merlin. “I think I had one of those for school once.” Arthur glared.

“What? I’m a student!”

“Alright,” said Arthur. “What about trousers that aren’t jeans, can you manage that?”

Merlin bit his lip, thought hard. “I have a kilt,” he offered eventually.

Arthur groaned. “You don’t have any decent trousers, but you have a bloody kilt?”

“My uncle’s Scottish,” said Merlin sheepishly. “I like it.”

“Okay,” said Arthur. Took a deep breath. “Here’s what we do. You tell me your size, I go out and buy you some better clothes, and while I’m gone, you start thinking about dinner.”

“What, I’m cooking?” said Merlin. Arthur nodded. “Well, that’s not fair. You can’t just spring something like that on me. Why don’t you cook?”

“Because I can’t cook,” Arthur hissed.

“You could make him pasta with baked beans,” said Merlin, beaming.

Arthur gripped him by the shoulders and shook him gently. “I hate you so much sometimes,” he said. “Please, Merlin. This has to go well. It’s so important that this goes well.”

“Alright,” said Merlin. “Fine. But the olive oil’s almost finished so you’ll have to buy some of that too. And you’ll probably want to go to the butchers. What does your father like?”

“Um,” said Arthur. “Don’t do anything foreign. Keep it simple. He doesn’t eat chocolate, I don’t know why. He’s allergic to shellfish.”

Merlin nodded slowly. “Okay,” he said. “You go out, I’ll text you when I’ve had a look through my recipe books, yeah?”

Arthur wrapped him up in his arms, gave him a quick squeeze. “I love you. You know I love you, right?”

“You, um, hadn’t mentioned that yet,” said Merlin. “Actually.” Arthur released him.

He stepped back. “But yeah. Yeah, I get that.” He smiled.

KA

Arthur woke up all alone in bed, and lay still, trying to will himself back to sleep, so he wouldn’t have to face another day of this, this - whatever this was. Waking up alone never seemed to get any easier (and that was stupid, really, because he’d spent more of his life without Merlin than with). It hadn’t been so bad at first. He’d been so sure that he could find the other Merlin if he just looked hard enough, but - it had been three days since he’d given up.

He forced his eyes open. Blinked. Then sat up, dumbfounded.

The sheets were red and rumpled. Merlin’s pyjamas were in a heap on the floor. The bed was still warm next to him, recently vacated. And someone, someone was in the kitchen, pattering around and humming.

He sat still for a few seconds, rigid, gripping the quilt, hardly daring to move in case he was dreaming, in case he woke himself up, then, once he was almost sure, he rumbled out of bed and raced for the door.

He slowed to a stop once he was outside. He wasn’t sure he dared look in the kitchen, just in case, in case… he wasn’t even sure what he was afraid of. He gripped the doorframe tightly, took a deep breath, and made himself look.

Merlin was there, in jeans and his ancient I ♥London t-shirt, wandering back and forth. He was making pancakes. The scent of them filled the kitchen, and Arthur breathed in, in.

“Oh, hey,” said Merlin. “You’re up. Did you -”

But before he could finished, Arthur launched himself forward, threw himself at Merlin, wrapped his arms around him and held on as tightly as he could. He never wanted to let go again.

“Oh God,” he gasped out. “Oh God. It’s me. I’m home, Merlin. I’m home. I’m home.” He mouthed it over and over into Merlin’s neck. Merlin was strangely still, but he didn’t care. He was home.

After a moment, Merlin shifted, then pushed him back a little, fingers brushing his face, feeling along his hairline until they found the long, upraised length of a scar. Then he relaxed, all the tension seeping out of his body, and sank into Arthur.

“It’s you,” he said. He was starting to tremble. “It’s really you.”

“It was awful, Merlin,” said Arthur, breathing in the scent of his hair. Shampoo and pancake batter. “It was like a vision of what my life would’ve been like if I’d never met you. Never leave me. Promise you’ll never leave me?”

Merlin sighed and pulled himself back, looking Arthur in the eye. “Of course,” he said. “Why would I?” Then, “I missed you. I missed you so much.”

For half a minute or so, they just looked at each other, standing in the sunlight that streamed through the kitchen windows, pancakes hissing away behind them.

Then Arthur said, “Was he here? The other me? He was, wasn’t he?”

Merlin hesitated, then nodded, biting his lip.

“Okay,” said Arthur. “That’s okay. I mean. You two -”

“He wasn’t you,” said Merlin quickly. Too quickly. “I know he wasn’t you. I just had to look after him, yeah?” He swallowed. “I thought you weren’t coming back.”

Arthur frowned, sudden horrible thoughts crowding his head. He pulled away from Merlin, took a deep breath. “You didn’t, though,” he said. “I mean, of course you didn’t.” Merlin stared blankly at him. “I mean, it’s not like you slept with him or anything?” He laughed nervously.

Merlin was silent. Then he backed away, up against the sink, and pressed his hands over his mouth. “Oh, God,” he said. “He was you! I mean, he was practically you! That doesn’t count, does it? I mean, it didn’t. It wasn’t.” He dragged his hands up through his hair.

Arthur choked back a yell, planted his feet firmly on the tiled floor. “So, when you said you missed me, what you meant was you’d been with him instead while I was stuck all on my own?”

“No!” said Merlin. “It wasn’t, I swear it wasn’t like that. I mean, we didn’t. Well, we did, but only twice, yeah?”

“Twice,” said Arthur flatly.

“Once the first morning, when I didn’t realise it wasn’t you, and he just went along with it, I don’t know why,” said Merlin. “And. Once last night. When I thought you weren’t ever coming back.” Arthur stared. “Please don’t be angry,” said Merlin. “Please, please.” He reached out for Arthur, wrapped his arms around his neck and clung on, tears prickling against Arthur’s skin. “He was almost you, yeah?” he said.

“And I missed you, and I wanted him to be you, and I think he wanted to be you too. And I missed you.” He trembled. He was sobbing, Arthur realised. “I’m so sorry,” he said. “I told myself I wouldn’t, when I realised what had happened, I told myself I’d wait till you came back, but then I thought you were gone forever and I just couldn’t stand it any more. Please don’t be angry.”

Arthur hesitated for a moment, then pulled Merlin back, looked him in the eye, wiped away tears with his thumb. He couldn't lose Merlin again. “Hey,” he said. “Hey. I understand, yeah? And it would be stupid to be jealous of myself, right?”

Merlin smiled. “Right,” he said. He sniffed. “The pancakes’ll be ready soon. You want pancakes?”

He was home all right.

B

Merlin still looked scruffy, even in a proper shirt and some brand new dark trousers. He was dashing around the kitchen, simultaneously poking at his vegetables and checking on the chicken and stirring the soup and putting together the cheesecake, shirt tails trailing out from under his apron (he didn’t usually wear one, but once he’d put the clothes on it seemed a bit stupid to take them off, so he’d dug out a gag apron he’d been given as a Secret Santa present once).

“You could at least tuck it in,” said Arthur.

“I will, I will,” said Merlin. “Do you want me to fix my hair as well?”

“No, I think that’s probably as good as it gets,” said Arthur. He checked his watch. “Ten to seven. You about done?”

“The table’s all set, yeah?” said Merlin, tasting the soup and seasoning it again. “And the wine’s in the fridge. I’ll be done for seven.” He grinned. Arthur smiled back, willing himself to relax.

Then the door buzzer sounded, and he almost jumped out of his skin, tensing up all over. “Oh, God,” he said. “Fuck, he’s early. Why did he have to be early?”

“Go answer the door, then,” said Merlin, pulling on his oven gloves. “It’s no big deal.”

Arthur stood in the doorway, fidgeting, definitely not biting his nails, and Merlin sighed, closed the oven, and took his head in big, padded hands that smelled of burnt cake.

“It’ll be alright, yeah?” he said. He kissed Arthur gently. “What’s the worst that could happen?”

“I don’t like to think,” said Arthur. “Look, just tuck your shirt in and take off that stupid apron.”

“Done and done,” said Merlin, reaching behind himself. “Hurry up, he’ll be getting impatient.”

The door buzzer went off for the second time. Arthur swore and launched himself at the button.

His father was as steely-grey and stern as ever as he walked into the flat. He hadn’t visited Arthur at home in years, and he stared around himself, silently judging. Then his gaze fell on Merlin, standing just inside the kitchen, adjusting his shirt.

“And this is Merlin, then?” he said.

Merlin swallowed. “Good evening,” he said. He held out a hand. Uther shook it stiffly. “It’s very nice to meet you.”

“Of course,” said Uther.

A pause. Arthur was about to say something when Merlin chipped in with, “So you’re early.”

“Yes,” said Uther. “It always pays to be prompt.”

“I just meant that dinner won’t be ready for a few more minutes,” said Merlin, doing his best to smile. “D’you want to sit down while you wait?”

Arthur had tidied up in the living room, thank God. The moment Uther was gone, Merlin grabbed him by the arm and gave him an appalled look.

“I thought you weren’t worried?” Arthur hissed.

“You didn’t tell me he was so terrifying!” Merlin hissed back.

“Yes I did!” said Arthur.

“Well, alright, you did,” said Merlin. “But you weren’t descriptive enough! He’s all…” He waved his hands vaguely in a way that was presumably meant to convey: cold, pretentious, really fucking scary. “Arthur, I don’t know if this is going to work. What if I say something stupid? What if he doesn’t like my cooking? What if -”

“Merlin, he will love your cooking,” said Arthur, taking hold of him. “Because everyone loves your cooking, yeah?” Merlin nodded, breathless. Arthur kissed him on the forehead, gave him a nudge back towards the kitchen, and dashed away to entertain his father.

His father, who was standing by the bookcase in the corner - brand new, they’d bought it in Ikea when they’d realised that the shelving Arthur had wasn’t enough for Merlin - looking at a row of battered books. “Whose are all these?” he said. “They’re not yours, are they?”

“Oh,” said Arthur. “No, those are Merlin’s.”

His father pulled out one of the books and flipped it open. “Chrétien de Troyes?” he said.

“It’s for his thesis,” said Arthur. “Arthurian literature. That’s his favourite, he says.” He nodded at the book.

Uther frowned, then broke into one of his rare smiles. “He shall have to tell me about that,” he said. He put back the Chrétien de Troyes and pulled out a copy of Le Mort D’Arthur.

Arthur breathed an inward sigh of relief.

*

Later, while Merlin was in the kitchen, stacking up the dishes by the sink, Arthur’s father took him aside in the hallway.

“I must say, I’m pleasantly surprised, Arthur. You’ve done very well for yourself.” He looked like he was going to go on, but Merlin wandered over then, holding a wineglass in one hand and a dishcloth in the other.

Uther cleared his throat. “This means you’ll have to adopt, of course,” he said.

Merlin’s jaw dropped.

“I’m sorry?” said Arthur.

“I still expect grandchildren,” said his father. “Morgana’s gone child-free, so I’m relying on you, I’m afraid.” He adjusted his tie.

“Um,” said Merlin. “We hadn’t really thought that far ahead. Sir.”

“Please,” said Arthur’s father. “Call me Uther.” He took Merlin’s hand - there was some brief juggling with the wineglass - and shook it warmly. “I hope to see you again soon. Good luck with your thesis. It sounds fascinating.”

And then he was gone, as suddenly as he’d arrived. Merlin wiped at his wineglass thoughtfully.

“Grandchildren?” he said, staring into space.

“Apparently,” said Arthur.

Merlin frowned. “I don’t know if I’d be a good parent.”

Arthur walked over, draped an arm around him. “You’d do great. Trust me.”

“I didn’t really think about that, though,” said Merlin. “I mean you said we were married, in that - in the other universe, so I guess I assumed, but I didn’t really… y’know.” He swallowed. “I think that went well, though.”

“He likes you,” said Arthur. “And he approves. Which means he’s not going to start sending me pointed emails telling me how his business associates have single daughters like he did last time I was seeing someone.” Merlin frowned. “Something wrong?”

“There’s still half a cheesecake left,” said Merlin. “How do you feel about cheesecake for breakfast?”

“That sounds revolting,” said Arthur, wrinkling his nose.

“Yeah,” said Merlin brightly.

KA

They ate their pancakes curled up on the sofa, with maple syrup and raspberries and cream, sticky and sweet and delicious. Arthur ran his fingers through Merlin’s hair, stroked his fringe back.

“What was he like?” he said. “The other me.”

“Like you were when we first met,” said Merlin. “Except a little less obnoxious.”

“Oh, thanks,” said Arthur.

“Well, he didn’t shout at me or tell me I was disgusting,” said Merlin. “Is what I meant. When he found me in his bed.”

“I didn’t mean that,” said Arthur. “You know I didn’t mean that.”

“It was a long time ago, and I’m over it,” said Merlin, feeding him a raspberry. “He was - I don’t know.” He frowned a sad little frown.

“What?” said Arthur, nudging him.

“He didn’t want to leave,” said Merlin. “I mean, he was you, kind of, so I guess he fell for me as well. He didn’t want to go back to - well, you know. You were there.”

Arthur winced. “I didn’t think I could ever get that lonely. You should see the amount of porn he had in his flat.”

“Well, there must be a me, right?” said Merlin. “In his universe. There was a you and a Morgana and a Lance and a Gwen, so there must be a me somewhere.”

Arthur pressed a kiss to the top of his head, comforting. “I looked for you,” he said. “I tried so hard to find you. I kept trying to think what I should say, because I couldn’t exactly tell you that I was your husband from another universe, but then it didn’t matter, because I couldn’t find you. You weren’t anywhere. I don’t know, maybe it’s just the universe with no Merlin.”

“There’ll be someone for him,” Merlin insisted. “There has to be. Right?”

“Well, I’d almost given up when I found you,” said Arthur. “He’ll be okay.” He hugged Merlin a little closer.

“Let’s stay in,” said Merlin after a moment. “All day. Let’s not go anywhere. Just you and me, yeah? We can order in dinner. It’ll be nice. Besides, we have lost time to make up for.” He set his plate down on the coffee table and twisted round to face Arthur, smiling.

“I love you,” said Arthur, staring at him, wondering, tracing the sharp lines of his cheekbones with his eyes.

“Yeah,” said Merlin. “I know.”

B

After the ceremony, after they’d cut the cake and said their vows and greeted relative after relative, they ducked out of the reception hall, out onto the balcony, away from the music and the drunk uncles and Merlin’s army of screaming little cousins.

Arthur took Merlin’s hand, twisted their fingers together, rings meeting with a soft little clink.

“So,” he said.

“So,” said Merlin. “That went better than I expected.”

“What did you expect?” said Arthur.

“I was convinced I was going to trip over or fuck up my vows or something,” said Merlin. “There may have been hyperventilating. You’ll have to ask Gwen and Will, I’m not sure.”

Arthur laughed. “You’re adorable.”

“Yeah, well, you’re my husband,” said Merlin.

“I guess I am,” said Arthur. “Wow.” He smiled, suddenly elated, and kissed Merlin, soft, then passionate. Merlin moaned, pulled back, reached into his pocket.

“What’ve you got there?” said Arthur.

Merlin drew out two little figures in suits. “It’s little marzipan Arthur and Merlin,” he said. “I took them after we cut the cake. You want to eat me?”

“Oh, hell yeah!” said Arthur, taking little marzipan Merlin.

Merlin raised marzipan Arthur, as if toasting him. “Well.”

“Well,” said Arthur. He grinned. “To the other Arthur and Merlin. I hope they’re both as happy as I am.”

Merlin laughed, took hold of Arthur’s lapels, toyed with them. “Yeah. I hope so too.” He bit into marzipan Arthur and smiled. “Mmm. You’re delicious.”

Before Arthur could answer, there was a little cough from the doorway. Merlin turned, smiled down at one of his cousins.

“Hi, Lucy,” he said. She beckoned him over. He crouched down beside her, let her whisper in his ear. “Oh. Okay.” He turned to face Arthur. “She wants to dance with you.”

“I don’t know,” said Arthur, addressing her sternly. “I don’t want to upset my new husband. He’s very jealous.” Lucy blushed and turned her face away.

“I think I can deal,” said Merlin, smiling, fitting their hands together. “Go on. Have fun.”

Arthur turned and waved as he was dragged back out onto the dance floor, waved at Merlin, standing framed in the glass doorway, the night sky behind him and the rest of their lives ahead of him. And that.

(does it really matter anyway)

Merlin was just finishing up a lecture, scrawling notes across the blackboard, messy.

“So as you can see, Chrétien de Troyes really was a remarkable poet,” he said, dusting the chalk off his hands. “Even aside from his influence on later Arthurian literature, his use of structure was particularly innovative. So that’s why he’s been called the inventor of the modern novel.” He stood back, adjusted his glasses. “Any questions?”

The students filed out, happy and laughing, until there was only a single solitary figure left at the back. Merlin had been packing away his notes into his bag, didn’t notice for a few minutes, not until their footsteps echoed around the empty lecture theatre. He slipped his glasses off and squinted up.

“Interesting lecture, Dr. Emrys,” said Arthur as he ambled down the steps.

“Dr. Emrys-Pendragon,” said Merlin, a slow smile spreading across his face. Arthur stopped a few paces away and grinned at him. “I thought you were in Berlin till the weekend?”

“Yeah, turns out, that… wasn’t,” said Arthur. “I may have lied a bit. Happy anniversary, Merlin.” He tossed Merlin a little box, a carefully wrapped present.

Merlin looked at it for a moment, then set it down on the desk and flung his arms around Arthur’s neck.

“Love you,” he said, nose to nose with him.

“I know you do,” said Arthur. “Morgana’s picking the kids up from school and taking them to McDonald's. They’re spending the night at hers. We have the house to ourselves all evening.”

Merlin pulled a face. “McDonald's? Really?” He shook his head. “Never mind. That’s great. Really great.”

Arthur grinned, ran his fingers through Merlin’s hair - the first few strands of grey were starting to peek out - and said, “Thank you. You’re the best thing that ever happened to me. And I love you, yeah?”

“Yeah,” said Merlin, kissing him, soft and kind of amazing.

.fin.