Tally [8/?]
Title: Tally [8/?]
Author: somerdaye
Pairings: Arthur/Merlin, some Gwaine/Merlin and Lancelot/Gwen
Rating: PG-13
Summary: When Gwaine Stanford is your only friend, you know it's time to switch things up a little. Old and new and more-thans.
Word Count: 2600+
Note: I'm not sure how I feel about two of my real-life friends reading this, esp. because they've made it their mission to badger me into updating at every turn. <3333
This chapter is long, kind of self-indulgent, and Arthur-centric. So, enjoy!
---
On what was going to be Arthur’s seventh tally - he was keeping track in his mind, just to make sure he didn’t forget to mark one - Lance was going to have a kind of ‘party’ for his friends, who’d just graduated from law enforcement training.
“Lance went to school with them for a couple of years,” Arthur explains into his phone, stretching out on his bed. Gwen had confined him to his room when he started asking snarky questions about how many of the people coming over Lance had slept with. (Lance still answered, “Four”, all serenely as he dusted the bookshelves.) “But then he was all, screw the money and security and honour I’ll get from being a policeman, I’d rather be a bartender at a gay bar instead.”
He hears Merlin snort and mutter something about rabbit food to someone on his end. “I assume that’s how you met him, then.”
Without permission from Arthur’s brain, a grin steals across his face. “Merlin, it’s like you know me.”
There’s a childish shriek of excitement, and Merlin shouts, “Bugger this - Gaius! Watch the bloody kids, I’m taking my break! ...And I know you better than you think, Arthur James Pendragon.”
“Morgana,” Arthur groans.
Merlin snickers, the noises of the petting zoo fading away and suddenly cutting off altogether with the click of a door.
“Yes, we’re getting along famously,” Merlin teases. “She’s got more tallies than you already.”
“Lies!”
“Not! She was here yesterday, cooing over the rabbits. And the day before that she brought me Supernatural and Community DVDs, claiming I need to watch more than just Doctor Who.”
“You are a bit obsessed, mate,” Arthur says, pushing down the anger - not jealousy - he feels towards his stepsister. Just to make sure, because he suddenly feels like if he doesn’t, he’ll die or something equally melodramatic, Arthur blurts, “You don’t sometimes like birds, do you?”
“No,” Merlin says with a surprised laugh. “No, no, exclusively blokes. If I fancied girls even a little bit I’d be married to Freya Maledizione.”
Arthur wonders who Freya Maledizione is and why Merlin says her name like an inside joke.
“Or so Gwaine insists repeatedly,” Merlin continues, and Arthur feels his eyes roll.
Gwaine. It was bad enough finding out that he was the one Elena was sneaking around with and getting into trouble for, and that he’s determined to get into Morgana’s pants - or shirt, at least - but the man inexplicably hates Arthur, constantly telling Merlin to stay away from him.
(Well, actually, if Arthur lets himself examine his feelings, he might be able to explain it, but Merlin is nice like Lance was nice, and that scares the hell out of him.)
“So don’t worry,” Merlin says, cutting into Arthur’s not-brooding. “I’m not moving in on your sister.”
“Stepsister,” Arthur corrects automatically. He hesitates. “And... seeing as it’s not really fair that you like her better than me -”
“- she is a hell of a lot nicer -”
“Obviously, she hasn’t shown you her true colours. Irregardless, I think you should come over later and make sure I don’t down a whole bottle of vodka when Lance’s mates start in on him about dating a woman.” Arthur holds his breath, waiting for an answer.
After a few seconds, Merlin says, “I don’t know if Gwen would be okay with that.”
“Please.” Arthur abandons all casualness at the memory of the only school mate of Lance’s he’s met - Percy Armstrong He doesn’t want to sit in the living room, stealing covert glances at the giant’s bulging arms and wondering if he was one of the four Lance shagged. “Please, I don’t know if I can get through this without you or an axe of gargantuan size. I might just fake a stroke to get away from them all.”
Merlin’s quiet for a moment, thinking it over - because Gwen really will freak if he shows up without invitation while she’s playing the perfect hostess, which resolves Arthur to let Merlin surprise her just for the look she’ll get on her face - and Arthur pictures him biting his lip, which isn’t really the best mental image to conjure up if he wants to avoid jumping Merlin’s bones and incurring Gwaine’s wrath and Gwen’s severe disappointment.
(Not that he, you know,gives a damn about either of them, but Gwaine has a disturbing amount of influence over Merlin and Gwen’s judgemental eyes would follow him around the flat for weeks.)
“Yeah, all right,” Merlin says abruptly. “Gaius, that’s my boss, Gaius, he’s yelling at me right now that if I don’t get out there in the next minute he’ll lock me in the goat enclosure, but, yeah, all right, I’ll come by later. Is six okay?”
Lance’s mates are due to show up at 5:30. Arthur grins. “Six is perfect.”
Merlin says a hasty goodbye before hanging up, and if Arthur lies there listening to the dial tone for an admittedly pathetic amount of time, nobody needs to know.
---
When Merlin gets home at 5:30, Gwaine - miraculously - isn’t there. The only thing waiting for him is a pile of folded, unfamiliar clothes and a note on the kitchen counter.
This shindig isn’t the t-shirt type, Merl, so here’s some NICE clothes. Keep them, I’ve got enough money to buy out Ireland. I also distracted Gwaine for you. You owe me. Have fun with the stepprat!
Love, M.
Creeped out, Merlin unfolds the clothes to find dark-washed jeans and a blue button-down. When he puts them on, he’s slightly disturbed but not surprised to find that they fit perfectly.
Arthur call you? he texts Morgana as he tries to comb his stupid hair.
No, the reply comes almost immediately. I had a dream.
Then, when he’s putting on his shoes, Try not to reminisce TOO much or Prat’ll get jealous. xoxo
---
Gwen, like the conniving little tart she is, has hidden the vodka. Arthur searches the entire kitchen as Lance’s mates file in the door, no to avail.
He scowls at the doorway, hearing warm voices and laughter filter through it. He knows where the vodka actually is, now, but he’s not about to brave Gwen and Lance’s ‘toy’ drawer again. He’s not quite that desperate yet, but if Merlin doesn’t show up soon, he just might have to for the sake of his sanity.
The guests settle down in the sitting room, and Arthur hears Gwen offer drinks in that sickeningly sweet voice he’d hoped for years was fake.
Then the doorbell rings, and the kitchen clock says 5:46, and Arthur’s never been so glad somebody came early.
“I’ll get it!” he yells, launching himself out of the kitchen with almost inhuman speed. If Gwen answers the door, she’ll just politely tell Merlin he can’t come in right now, since she’s kind of busy, but why doesn’t he come by tomorrow after she’s done work? They can play Operation and school Lance, who never played board games as a kid, while Arthur broods in his room after asking Lance how he survived childhood.
Arthur pulls the door open roughly and is greeted with a small smile and a, “Your sister’s fucking creepy. She knew I was coming over and my size from a dream.”
“Stepsister, and that’s normal for her,” Arthur says absently, busy raking his eyes over Merlin’s lean form. The shirt matches his eyes perfectly - but of course it does. Morgana lives to make Arthur’s life difficult.
“Someone at the door?” Lance asks, materializing beside Arthur without so much as a warning. “Merlin! What are you doing here?”
Merlin grimaces. “Arthur invited me.”
“Did he now?” Lance’s face flashes with irritation for a split second, guessing, Arthur assumes, that his ex-boyfriend is on a mission to irritate his current lover out of the flat.
“Sorry,” Arthur says insincerely.
“Well, it can’t be helped. Come on in, Merlin,” Lance steps aside to allow Merlin to walk between them. After a quick, nervous glance at Arthur, Merlin obliges and Lance steers him toward the living room. “Look what the dog dragged in, Gwen!” Lance announces, still clasping Merlin’s shoulder.
Merlin blushes, refusing to raise his eyes from the floor, and Arthur is just contemplating how completely unfair that expression is when a female voice squeals, “Merlin!?”
Before Arthur can blink, the few guests Lance invited are in an uproar, calling Merlin’s name and running forward to hug him or mess up his combed-for-once hair or, in the case of the woman who had first spoken up, kiss him lightly on the lips.
Lance and Arthur exchange a stunned look, while Gwen stands, frozen, by the bay window.
“I guess no introductions are necessary,” Arthur says, loud enough that everyone can hear him over their Merlin-coddling. Merlin himself looks absolutely shellshocked, a dazed half-grin on his damnably adorable face.
The guests mutter apologies, moving back to their seats but continuing to beam at Merlin.
“D’you still keep that book of yours?” Percy - stupid Percy - asks in delight.
Merlin nods, his face flushing a deeper red even as his smile widens. He shyly reaches into his back pocket (which was just inviting Arthur’s eyes to stare, damn him) and pulls out the small, tattered book that Arthur enjoyed running his hands all over. With a dramatic flair, he swipes a pen from the nearest end table and opens the book, looking uncannily like a professor taking roll.
Arthur’s brain only furthers that comparison when Merlin marks a tally under Gwen, calling her name as he does.
Then he continues, and Arthur remembers reading the names, hearing the stories, and only now can he put a face to them. Lance seems amused, now, that his old classmates and their dates know and adore Merlin, but it just makes the hot, bubbling not-jealousy tighten in Arthur’s stomach.
First is Percy, who went to elementary school with Merlin and whose bathroom was home to many of Merlin and Gwaine’s teenage adventures. His date, Sophia, allegedly tried to drown Merlin in a lake, thought she seems nice enough to him now. Leon, Lance’s old roommate and Merlin’s tennis partner in PE is next, followed by his fiancé, Freya, who only spent the last year of secondary school in Surrey after moving from Italy.
The woman who kissed Merlin turns out to be called Nimueh, sister of a boy Merlin used to babysit to pay off his college debt (“That family was evil, Arthur. Evil. Mordred electrocuted me with at least nine science projects and Nimueh tried seducing me whenever she happened to be home. I was expecting to end up on some documentary about the dangers of babysitting!”) and Arthur finds himself glaring daggers at her when she winks at Merlin. If Merlin hadn’t already assured him of his unyielding sexuality...
“Morgause,” the black-haired man who would not be a sexy professor, whatever Arthur’s traitorous mind seems to think, calls with a laugh, “and Cenred, the ‘other woman’ in Gwaine’s strange, strange mind.”
“You still hang out with Gwaine?” Leon asks, chuckling.
Percy grins, stretching his legs from where he sits on the floor against the couch to playfully kick Merlin’s shin. “Remember when you two TP’d my entire living room?”
“Yes!” Merlin laughs, plopping down on the floor where he stands and leaning back against the closest wall. He opens his mouth to continue the story but pauses, a small crease appearing between his eyebrows. He turns to fully face Arthur, who can’t quite get the not-jealousy of his his expression in time. Merlin’s face softens, crinkles appearing around his eyes, and he gestures vaguely at the spot of carpet beside him. “Come sit, Arthur. You too, Lance; Gwen. You’re all making me nervous just standing there.”
Lance claims the free armchair by the telly without question, and Gwen wanders over to sit on one of the arms, giving Arthur a dirty look as she does. Though she doesn’t seem angry with Merlin himself for agreeing to show up and completely diverting the group’s attention from her hostess act. Typical.
Arthur lowers himself to the carpet beside Merlin, feeling a warm surge of pleasure through his chest when Merlin smiles at the action.
Now Merlin turns back to Percy and insists that it was all Gwaine’s idea anyway, and did any of them want to take him off Merlin’s hands for a while? Morgause offers to throw him in a cell and though Merlin looks tempted, he declines, saying quite seriously that if Gwaine were ever to see Morgause with handcuffs and a uniform, he’d be at her feet, begging for her to take him back within seconds.
Then, Merlin flawlessly sets the conversation on a new track, asking for stories about Lance in college, and Leon explodes into anecdotes that would seem unreal if it were anybody but Lance. (A kitten stuck in a tree, really? That actually happens?)
Merlin settles back against the wall, leaning into Arthur a little as he teases Lance about his textbook heroics. Arthur thinks for a moment that if Gwen weren’t set to murder him already, she certainly would now, before pressing his entire left side against Merlin’s right.
Nimueh returns his earlier glower as he does, but Freya is smiling and since she is Merlin’s If-I-Were-Straight wife Arthur smiles back, leaning the side of his head on a bony shoulder.
Merlin stiffens slightly, and Arthur wonders wildly if he read something wrong - Morgana’d been talking about Arthur’s ‘destiny’ for years and years and he hadn’t seen her as flustered as she’d been with Merlin since that time she got to meet Brad Pitt. Arthur doesn’t want to think about it, but Morgana is buying Merlin clothes from Arthur’s favourite store and DVDs of Arthur’s favourite shows and Morgana has this really, really bad habit of making Arthur figure things out for himself, so he’d just assumed, and if he’s wrong, then he’ll just have to go back to pining in secret.
But then he feels Merlin’s body relax into him, and Merlin’s fingers trail over to tentatively press into the back of Arthur’s left hand.
Slowly, so he doesn’t startle Merlin, Arthur turns his hand over, staring at it from the odd angle and waiting open-palmed for Merlin to twine their fingers together, which he does easily.
Arthur’s heart is pounding faster than should be healthy as Cenred recalls the time Lance single-handedly put out a fire in the dorms (after starting said fire with his drunken attempts at cooking fettuccine). He chances a glance at Gwen.
Her eyes aren’t angry or judging like he’d expected, but challenging. Like hurt him and you’ll be forced to move to Portugal, don’t think I can’t arrange it.
He squeezes Merlin’s hand and thinks wearily, I won’t, you know I won’t. With how deep I am in this, thinking stupid things about destiny and Morgana’s sometimes-predictive dreams, I’m the one you should be worried about.
She gives him a look that clearly says I’m never worried about you, but the corners of her lips curve, and Lance turns to give him a surreptitious wink.
And Freya - yes. She’s still smiling like she’s proud of Merlin, even though she only has twenty-five tallies to her name. With her sweet eyes and almost shy body language, Arthur can see why Gwaine tried to get Merlin to love her. She obviously cares about him, too.
They all do, Arthur realises, flicking his gaze back down to Merlin’s warm hand, entwined in his own. Merlin is just that lovable.
His throat tightens, and he thinks: Shit.
---
chapter nine here
Author: somerdaye
Pairings: Arthur/Merlin, some Gwaine/Merlin and Lancelot/Gwen
Rating: PG-13
Summary: When Gwaine Stanford is your only friend, you know it's time to switch things up a little. Old and new and more-thans.
Word Count: 2600+
Note: I'm not sure how I feel about two of my real-life friends reading this, esp. because they've made it their mission to badger me into updating at every turn. <3333
This chapter is long, kind of self-indulgent, and Arthur-centric. So, enjoy!
---
On what was going to be Arthur’s seventh tally - he was keeping track in his mind, just to make sure he didn’t forget to mark one - Lance was going to have a kind of ‘party’ for his friends, who’d just graduated from law enforcement training.
“Lance went to school with them for a couple of years,” Arthur explains into his phone, stretching out on his bed. Gwen had confined him to his room when he started asking snarky questions about how many of the people coming over Lance had slept with. (Lance still answered, “Four”, all serenely as he dusted the bookshelves.) “But then he was all, screw the money and security and honour I’ll get from being a policeman, I’d rather be a bartender at a gay bar instead.”
He hears Merlin snort and mutter something about rabbit food to someone on his end. “I assume that’s how you met him, then.”
Without permission from Arthur’s brain, a grin steals across his face. “Merlin, it’s like you know me.”
There’s a childish shriek of excitement, and Merlin shouts, “Bugger this - Gaius! Watch the bloody kids, I’m taking my break! ...And I know you better than you think, Arthur James Pendragon.”
“Morgana,” Arthur groans.
Merlin snickers, the noises of the petting zoo fading away and suddenly cutting off altogether with the click of a door.
“Yes, we’re getting along famously,” Merlin teases. “She’s got more tallies than you already.”
“Lies!”
“Not! She was here yesterday, cooing over the rabbits. And the day before that she brought me Supernatural and Community DVDs, claiming I need to watch more than just Doctor Who.”
“You are a bit obsessed, mate,” Arthur says, pushing down the anger - not jealousy - he feels towards his stepsister. Just to make sure, because he suddenly feels like if he doesn’t, he’ll die or something equally melodramatic, Arthur blurts, “You don’t sometimes like birds, do you?”
“No,” Merlin says with a surprised laugh. “No, no, exclusively blokes. If I fancied girls even a little bit I’d be married to Freya Maledizione.”
Arthur wonders who Freya Maledizione is and why Merlin says her name like an inside joke.
“Or so Gwaine insists repeatedly,” Merlin continues, and Arthur feels his eyes roll.
Gwaine. It was bad enough finding out that he was the one Elena was sneaking around with and getting into trouble for, and that he’s determined to get into Morgana’s pants - or shirt, at least - but the man inexplicably hates Arthur, constantly telling Merlin to stay away from him.
(Well, actually, if Arthur lets himself examine his feelings, he might be able to explain it, but Merlin is nice like Lance was nice, and that scares the hell out of him.)
“So don’t worry,” Merlin says, cutting into Arthur’s not-brooding. “I’m not moving in on your sister.”
“Stepsister,” Arthur corrects automatically. He hesitates. “And... seeing as it’s not really fair that you like her better than me -”
“- she is a hell of a lot nicer -”
“Obviously, she hasn’t shown you her true colours. Irregardless, I think you should come over later and make sure I don’t down a whole bottle of vodka when Lance’s mates start in on him about dating a woman.” Arthur holds his breath, waiting for an answer.
After a few seconds, Merlin says, “I don’t know if Gwen would be okay with that.”
“Please.” Arthur abandons all casualness at the memory of the only school mate of Lance’s he’s met - Percy Armstrong He doesn’t want to sit in the living room, stealing covert glances at the giant’s bulging arms and wondering if he was one of the four Lance shagged. “Please, I don’t know if I can get through this without you or an axe of gargantuan size. I might just fake a stroke to get away from them all.”
Merlin’s quiet for a moment, thinking it over - because Gwen really will freak if he shows up without invitation while she’s playing the perfect hostess, which resolves Arthur to let Merlin surprise her just for the look she’ll get on her face - and Arthur pictures him biting his lip, which isn’t really the best mental image to conjure up if he wants to avoid jumping Merlin’s bones and incurring Gwaine’s wrath and Gwen’s severe disappointment.
(Not that he, you know,gives a damn about either of them, but Gwaine has a disturbing amount of influence over Merlin and Gwen’s judgemental eyes would follow him around the flat for weeks.)
“Yeah, all right,” Merlin says abruptly. “Gaius, that’s my boss, Gaius, he’s yelling at me right now that if I don’t get out there in the next minute he’ll lock me in the goat enclosure, but, yeah, all right, I’ll come by later. Is six okay?”
Lance’s mates are due to show up at 5:30. Arthur grins. “Six is perfect.”
Merlin says a hasty goodbye before hanging up, and if Arthur lies there listening to the dial tone for an admittedly pathetic amount of time, nobody needs to know.
---
When Merlin gets home at 5:30, Gwaine - miraculously - isn’t there. The only thing waiting for him is a pile of folded, unfamiliar clothes and a note on the kitchen counter.
This shindig isn’t the t-shirt type, Merl, so here’s some NICE clothes. Keep them, I’ve got enough money to buy out Ireland. I also distracted Gwaine for you. You owe me. Have fun with the stepprat!
Love, M.
Creeped out, Merlin unfolds the clothes to find dark-washed jeans and a blue button-down. When he puts them on, he’s slightly disturbed but not surprised to find that they fit perfectly.
Arthur call you? he texts Morgana as he tries to comb his stupid hair.
No, the reply comes almost immediately. I had a dream.
Then, when he’s putting on his shoes, Try not to reminisce TOO much or Prat’ll get jealous. xoxo
---
Gwen, like the conniving little tart she is, has hidden the vodka. Arthur searches the entire kitchen as Lance’s mates file in the door, no to avail.
He scowls at the doorway, hearing warm voices and laughter filter through it. He knows where the vodka actually is, now, but he’s not about to brave Gwen and Lance’s ‘toy’ drawer again. He’s not quite that desperate yet, but if Merlin doesn’t show up soon, he just might have to for the sake of his sanity.
The guests settle down in the sitting room, and Arthur hears Gwen offer drinks in that sickeningly sweet voice he’d hoped for years was fake.
Then the doorbell rings, and the kitchen clock says 5:46, and Arthur’s never been so glad somebody came early.
“I’ll get it!” he yells, launching himself out of the kitchen with almost inhuman speed. If Gwen answers the door, she’ll just politely tell Merlin he can’t come in right now, since she’s kind of busy, but why doesn’t he come by tomorrow after she’s done work? They can play Operation and school Lance, who never played board games as a kid, while Arthur broods in his room after asking Lance how he survived childhood.
Arthur pulls the door open roughly and is greeted with a small smile and a, “Your sister’s fucking creepy. She knew I was coming over and my size from a dream.”
“Stepsister, and that’s normal for her,” Arthur says absently, busy raking his eyes over Merlin’s lean form. The shirt matches his eyes perfectly - but of course it does. Morgana lives to make Arthur’s life difficult.
“Someone at the door?” Lance asks, materializing beside Arthur without so much as a warning. “Merlin! What are you doing here?”
Merlin grimaces. “Arthur invited me.”
“Did he now?” Lance’s face flashes with irritation for a split second, guessing, Arthur assumes, that his ex-boyfriend is on a mission to irritate his current lover out of the flat.
“Sorry,” Arthur says insincerely.
“Well, it can’t be helped. Come on in, Merlin,” Lance steps aside to allow Merlin to walk between them. After a quick, nervous glance at Arthur, Merlin obliges and Lance steers him toward the living room. “Look what the dog dragged in, Gwen!” Lance announces, still clasping Merlin’s shoulder.
Merlin blushes, refusing to raise his eyes from the floor, and Arthur is just contemplating how completely unfair that expression is when a female voice squeals, “Merlin!?”
Before Arthur can blink, the few guests Lance invited are in an uproar, calling Merlin’s name and running forward to hug him or mess up his combed-for-once hair or, in the case of the woman who had first spoken up, kiss him lightly on the lips.
Lance and Arthur exchange a stunned look, while Gwen stands, frozen, by the bay window.
“I guess no introductions are necessary,” Arthur says, loud enough that everyone can hear him over their Merlin-coddling. Merlin himself looks absolutely shellshocked, a dazed half-grin on his damnably adorable face.
The guests mutter apologies, moving back to their seats but continuing to beam at Merlin.
“D’you still keep that book of yours?” Percy - stupid Percy - asks in delight.
Merlin nods, his face flushing a deeper red even as his smile widens. He shyly reaches into his back pocket (which was just inviting Arthur’s eyes to stare, damn him) and pulls out the small, tattered book that Arthur enjoyed running his hands all over. With a dramatic flair, he swipes a pen from the nearest end table and opens the book, looking uncannily like a professor taking roll.
Arthur’s brain only furthers that comparison when Merlin marks a tally under Gwen, calling her name as he does.
Then he continues, and Arthur remembers reading the names, hearing the stories, and only now can he put a face to them. Lance seems amused, now, that his old classmates and their dates know and adore Merlin, but it just makes the hot, bubbling not-jealousy tighten in Arthur’s stomach.
First is Percy, who went to elementary school with Merlin and whose bathroom was home to many of Merlin and Gwaine’s teenage adventures. His date, Sophia, allegedly tried to drown Merlin in a lake, thought she seems nice enough to him now. Leon, Lance’s old roommate and Merlin’s tennis partner in PE is next, followed by his fiancé, Freya, who only spent the last year of secondary school in Surrey after moving from Italy.
The woman who kissed Merlin turns out to be called Nimueh, sister of a boy Merlin used to babysit to pay off his college debt (“That family was evil, Arthur. Evil. Mordred electrocuted me with at least nine science projects and Nimueh tried seducing me whenever she happened to be home. I was expecting to end up on some documentary about the dangers of babysitting!”) and Arthur finds himself glaring daggers at her when she winks at Merlin. If Merlin hadn’t already assured him of his unyielding sexuality...
“Morgause,” the black-haired man who would not be a sexy professor, whatever Arthur’s traitorous mind seems to think, calls with a laugh, “and Cenred, the ‘other woman’ in Gwaine’s strange, strange mind.”
“You still hang out with Gwaine?” Leon asks, chuckling.
Percy grins, stretching his legs from where he sits on the floor against the couch to playfully kick Merlin’s shin. “Remember when you two TP’d my entire living room?”
“Yes!” Merlin laughs, plopping down on the floor where he stands and leaning back against the closest wall. He opens his mouth to continue the story but pauses, a small crease appearing between his eyebrows. He turns to fully face Arthur, who can’t quite get the not-jealousy of his his expression in time. Merlin’s face softens, crinkles appearing around his eyes, and he gestures vaguely at the spot of carpet beside him. “Come sit, Arthur. You too, Lance; Gwen. You’re all making me nervous just standing there.”
Lance claims the free armchair by the telly without question, and Gwen wanders over to sit on one of the arms, giving Arthur a dirty look as she does. Though she doesn’t seem angry with Merlin himself for agreeing to show up and completely diverting the group’s attention from her hostess act. Typical.
Arthur lowers himself to the carpet beside Merlin, feeling a warm surge of pleasure through his chest when Merlin smiles at the action.
Now Merlin turns back to Percy and insists that it was all Gwaine’s idea anyway, and did any of them want to take him off Merlin’s hands for a while? Morgause offers to throw him in a cell and though Merlin looks tempted, he declines, saying quite seriously that if Gwaine were ever to see Morgause with handcuffs and a uniform, he’d be at her feet, begging for her to take him back within seconds.
Then, Merlin flawlessly sets the conversation on a new track, asking for stories about Lance in college, and Leon explodes into anecdotes that would seem unreal if it were anybody but Lance. (A kitten stuck in a tree, really? That actually happens?)
Merlin settles back against the wall, leaning into Arthur a little as he teases Lance about his textbook heroics. Arthur thinks for a moment that if Gwen weren’t set to murder him already, she certainly would now, before pressing his entire left side against Merlin’s right.
Nimueh returns his earlier glower as he does, but Freya is smiling and since she is Merlin’s If-I-Were-Straight wife Arthur smiles back, leaning the side of his head on a bony shoulder.
Merlin stiffens slightly, and Arthur wonders wildly if he read something wrong - Morgana’d been talking about Arthur’s ‘destiny’ for years and years and he hadn’t seen her as flustered as she’d been with Merlin since that time she got to meet Brad Pitt. Arthur doesn’t want to think about it, but Morgana is buying Merlin clothes from Arthur’s favourite store and DVDs of Arthur’s favourite shows and Morgana has this really, really bad habit of making Arthur figure things out for himself, so he’d just assumed, and if he’s wrong, then he’ll just have to go back to pining in secret.
But then he feels Merlin’s body relax into him, and Merlin’s fingers trail over to tentatively press into the back of Arthur’s left hand.
Slowly, so he doesn’t startle Merlin, Arthur turns his hand over, staring at it from the odd angle and waiting open-palmed for Merlin to twine their fingers together, which he does easily.
Arthur’s heart is pounding faster than should be healthy as Cenred recalls the time Lance single-handedly put out a fire in the dorms (after starting said fire with his drunken attempts at cooking fettuccine). He chances a glance at Gwen.
Her eyes aren’t angry or judging like he’d expected, but challenging. Like hurt him and you’ll be forced to move to Portugal, don’t think I can’t arrange it.
He squeezes Merlin’s hand and thinks wearily, I won’t, you know I won’t. With how deep I am in this, thinking stupid things about destiny and Morgana’s sometimes-predictive dreams, I’m the one you should be worried about.
She gives him a look that clearly says I’m never worried about you, but the corners of her lips curve, and Lance turns to give him a surreptitious wink.
And Freya - yes. She’s still smiling like she’s proud of Merlin, even though she only has twenty-five tallies to her name. With her sweet eyes and almost shy body language, Arthur can see why Gwaine tried to get Merlin to love her. She obviously cares about him, too.
They all do, Arthur realises, flicking his gaze back down to Merlin’s warm hand, entwined in his own. Merlin is just that lovable.
His throat tightens, and he thinks: Shit.
---
chapter nine here