What You Mean to Me (Right Now) Part Two
Arthur pushes open the door of the pub, pausing to blink at the dimness of the room as he tries to spot Leon. It's a little early for the place to be filling up, and Arthur picks him out once his eyes start to adjust. Leon's found a booth near the back and his head is bent over his mobile, the device looking tiny in his strong hands.
He tucks the phone away as Arthur approaches but is slow to wipe the smile from his face.
"Am I interrupting?" Arthur asks. "Perhaps you and Betsy would like to have a moment?"
For as long as Arthur can remember, all of Leon's electronics have been named Betsy.
Leon's hand inches for his pocket before it seems that he realises it, but he corrects his trajectory and reaches for Arthur's hand instead. Arthur shakes it but is left feeling unhinged by the gesture. He and Leon haven't shaken hands since they first met.
"I'm glad you could meet me tonight," Leon says, and the formal tone of the evening remains. "What are you drinking?"
"Lemonade is fine. I've hit the pain meds more than I ought this week."
It's a lie. Arthur isn't as familiar with this part of town as he'd like to be, and since his accident, he doesn't like to depend on directions given to him by anyone else. He drove tonight because he's found it's easier than trying to lope along the tube platforms and hope someone doesn't crash into him for going slower than they are, which is still as fast as he can manage.
"I'll go to the bar then," Leon says and pats the pocket where Betsy is hiding one more time. "You hungry at all?"
Arthur waves him off and checks his own mobile. There are no messages, of course, so he pulls up NotScrabble to see if Morgana has had a chance to see the new board he'd started, but she'd obviously had some work to do that day, because it doesn't appear she's touched it.
"Morgana still kicking your arse at wordplay, then?"
"Morgana kicks my arse at everything. You know that, and you know better than to tell her," Arthur says as Leon slides back into the booth, a snakebite in one hand and Arthur's lemonade in the other. "You still drink that garbage?"
"It's an acquired taste."
Leon stops there, but there are words hanging between them, unspoken, little jokes they used to make and thanks to Arthur's stubbornness never will again. Leon is the first to break the silence, sighing before he takes a drink of his beer. He wipes the foam out of his beard with the back of his hand before he speaks.
"Look, I said some things the other night that I shouldn't have, dug up a lot of old history. It wouldn't have been fair for me to do that when we were together, and it's certainly not fair to do it now."
Arthur's hand clenches around his glass of lemonade. "I- I appreciate that. But the things that you said? You weren't wrong."
The bark of gruff laughter from Leon surprises Arthur, and he feels heat rising to his cheeks. He takes a drink of his lemonade but tries to swallow too much and chokes. Leon's laughter stops.
"I'm sorry, Arthur, I am. It's just that in the eight years we've known each other, I've never once heard you say that you were sorry. To anyone." Arthur presses his lips together and frowns, so Leon continues. "I don't mean that to be a criticism. It might even mean that you're doing something hippyish, like growing as a person."
"And I know how much you hate that shite."
"Damn straight," Leon says with a grin. "That's some kind of New Age nonsense right there, and this RAF man won't stand for it."
"Won't stand for what?" a voice from behind Arthur asks, and Arthur gets to have the seminal experience of seeing Leon blush.
"Gwaine," he says, and Arthur has to fight the urge to roll his eyes, because while he hadn't expected to see Gwaine again quite so soon, for some reason it doesn't seem to be a total surprise that he's here.
"Thought that this might be where I would find you," Gwaine says, shooting a curious look at Arthur as he moves around the table to clap Leon on the shoulder. Arthur is nearly blinded by Leon's grin.
"How'd you know?"
"You mean other than you mentioning that this was your local about six times in the last two weeks?" Gwaine asks with a matching smile. He slides into the booth next to Leon. "I may have taken note last weekend when I left yours as to where, exactly, it was."
A hand reaches over Arthur's shoulder and grabs Arthur's glass. He turns to see Merlin swallow down a healthy mouthful of his lemonade, only to see him choke on it.
He coughs and Arthur marvels that he doesn't spit lemonade all over the table, while Gwaine throws his head back and laughs and Leon looks on, ready to jump in as though he might be called upon to perform the Heimlich Maneuver at any moment.
"Why," Merlin manages after a moment of red-faced spluttering, "is there no alcohol in that?"
"If I'd known your itinerary, your highness, then I would have made sure to have an appropriate beverage available for you."
Merlin throws his hands up in surrender. "Okay. I deserved that. It appears I'm determined to make a prat of myself around you. It's just that when Gwaine starts announcing personal details to the room at large, I feel a strong urge to drink."
"But what are you doing here?" Arthur asks, watching Merlin as he comes around from behind the booth and sits down next to him, which Arthur most definitely did not ask him to do, but which brings a fond smile to Leon's face.
Arthur thinks it might be a little bit soon for Leon to be looking fondly upon any of Gwaine's friends.
"Gwaine is here because he's Facebook stalking Leon, " Merlin says and Gwaine doesn't deny it, "and I am here because I am told that having a mate with you when you do this sort of thing makes you less of a creeper."
Arthur waits for Leon to respond to this bit of news, but when he glances over across the table, Leon and Gwaine have their heads bent together, whispering about something. Merlin thunks his forehead down on the table. He turns his face to Arthur and squints up at him with only one eye open.
"Now do you want alcohol?" he asks, sounding just a little bit desperate. "Even if you don't, at least let me buy you a lemonade for contaminating yours."
Arthur risks one last glance across the table and prods Merlin in the shoulder. "Let's go." When Merlin frowns at him, Arthur nods at Leon and Gwaine. "You're not leaving me along with the two of them."
"Bring me back a Guinness," Gwaine calls as they make their way to the bar. Merlin flips him two fingers, then scrunches up his face at Arthur.
"Sorry. I keep telling myself that I'm going to stop doing that. I'm not a kid any more, right?" Arthur snorts, and even in the din of the after work crowd, Merlin stills hears. "What?"
"You're not a kid anymore? But you're what? Twenty-six?"
Merlin grins. "Thirty-three."
"Garbage."
"It's the truth. It's the ears. They make me look like I'm about twelve."
"Maybe that's it," Arthur says, even though that's not it at all. Merlin carries an air of youthful exuberance about him, and his smile seems carefree. "So you and Gwaine, you're not-"
"Oh, god, no," Merlin says, laughing as they wait for the bartender to take their orders. "No. We've been friends for far too long. He knows all of my bad habits and I know all of his. I'm just not sure how to excuse him from his long enough for us to try for anything."
"Ah. I know how that goes," Arthur says, even though he doesn't. He supposes it would be like trying to date Leon a second time, knowing going in that Leon was forced to be so regimented for so long in the RAF that now he can't be organized enough to fold his socks.
"You want another lemonade?" Merlin asks once the bartender has deigned to give them his attention. Arthur checks his watch.
"I was drinking it because I hadn't planned on staying this long," he admits.
"You can't leave me here now." Merlin nods over to the booth they vacated. The space between Leon and Gwaine has all but disappeared. "I rode over here with Gwaine and I don't have any idea what part of town I'm in, much less how to get home. And I'm not one hundred percent sure that I'll have a ride back."
"I have to have alcohol in my system if I'm going to have to watch the two of them all night. Cider, please," Arthur says to the bartender, who nods.
"Two," Merlin says and pulls out his wallet.
"What are you doing?"
"Buying your drink. I thought it only polite since I drank your other one. I'm still disappointed there wasn't vodka in it by the way." He gives Arthur a sly look. "And to prove to you that I'm really the age I say I am."
He hands Arthur his driver's license and Arthur tries to control his face from showing that he hadn't believed Merlin earlier. Merlin sees his disbelief anyway and gives him a rueful smile as he takes back the card.
"I could hardly buy a pint in uni without being harassed. Of course, if Gwaine ever shows you pictures of me from back then, you'll understand why."
"You won't show me any pictures?" Arthur asks, and Merlin gives his head a vehement shake.
"If it were up to me, no photos from that period of my life would still exist. Unfortunately, I can't help what other people do with the photographic evidence of my horrible bowl cut. Gwaine has a picture of the two of us from our graduation on his mantle where it can be seen by all."
Merlin takes their drinks from the bartender and passes Arthur his.
"Cheers."
"Least I could do. Now do you want to join our mates or do you fancy a game of darts?"
Leon is sitting back at the booth staring down at the table with a private smile on his face while Gwaine leans forward, whispering something to him.
"Darts sounds fab."
"I thought you'd agree."
If there's anything that Arthur learns from the evening, it's that Merlin is terrible at darts.
"You've only managed to hit the board once," he points out somewhere in the middle of their second game. "Though if points were handed out for the number of patrons you've hit&ndash"
"I haven't hit a single person! Stop trying to defame me."
"You're managing it just fine on your own. You only have eight points."
"I would have more if you didn't insist on coaching me through every bloody throw."
"I wouldn't have to coach you if you weren't so terrible at the game. What did you do in uni?"
"Studied." Merlin takes his drink and goes to try again, but Arthur's not surprised to see several people casting a wary look at him. "Why, what did you do?"
"I studied, too. Graduated with a first, even, but I still took the time to learn how to play darts."
"First in what?"
"Accounting," Arthur takes a sip of his cider. Merlin had bought himself a second beer after Arthur had beaten him so soundly during their first round of darts, but Arthur's been nursing his drink.
"And are you working for a great corporation where you have to wear a suit and tie every single day and sell your soul to the global economy?"
"I work for my father's office, so you be the judge of that," Arthur says, trying to twist his mouth into an approximation of a smile. Merlin is silent for a minute and Arthur thinks that he really is judging him, and there's a sudden stab of fear in his heart that Merlin will find him ridiculous, find him lacking in some way, because as attractive as Arthur might find Merlin, they are not in a relationship. They barely know each other, but Arthur doesn't think he's willing to lose this new friendship, the first he's had in years.
Then Merlin goes and smiles at Arthur, and with a wink says, "I think we've moved past that prejudicial moment where we deal with who our parents are. No Harry Potter-Draco Malfoy garbage here, yeah? Stereotypes and all that rot?"
"What stereotypes? I'm a gay man with a bum leg. I've never been stereotyped in my life."
And oh, fuck, there it is. He'd not wanted to just blurt out everything at once about his leg, not quite yet, and he can feel a flush blooming on his cheeks and creeping down his neck. It's too hot in the pub all of a sudden and he glances past Merlin, trying to gauge if he can get to the door without stumbling over someone's feet or a handbag left in a careless place an aisle. He starts to move off his chair, only to be stopped by Merlin's hand on his arm.
"Are you okay?"
Arthur can't look him in the eye, can't stand to see the pity he's going to find there. He focuses instead on the place at Merlin's neck where his shirt collar is unbuttoned. He thinks that Merlin probably has lovely collarbones, but he knows that he'll probably never have the chance to see them. The fact that he's even thinking about it is enough to sober him up.
"I already know about your leg," Merlin says. "I'd have to be pretty stupid not to when the first time we met, you brought me prescriptions from Gwen. She's one of the best in her field. And she sends referrals to me all the time."
"She told you about me?" Arthur's starting to remember that first time he'd met Merlin, that Gwen had told Merlin to be extra nice to him, and shame floods him.
"She told me that you were a good friend of hers and that, given the chance, she thought that you and I would probably be mates, but that you had trouble meeting new people. And then she backed up and talked all over herself trying to make sure that I understood that she didn't want me to think that you were some sort of sad sack or anything, that you really were lovely and-" Merlin pauses to take a breath and Arthur finds himself cracking a smile in spite of himself.
"That sounds just like Gwen. Always wants everyone to be happy-"
"- but she'll give you the what for if you need it?" Merlin laughs. "That sound exactly like my experience with her."
"What advice did she give you?" Arthur's honestly curious as to what she might have told Merlin. Despite the way Arthur's treated him- and he's self-aware enough to know he hasn't been on his best behaviour- Merlin seems to be a decent sort, willing to put their prior meetings behind him, even if it is only because Gwaine and Leon seem to be getting along so well.
"Same as she gave you, as far as I can tell. Get out there. Meet people. Keeps trying to tell me that there are plenty of boys in the clubs."
"Bad break up?"
"Something like that." Merlin clears his throat and glances back to the corner of the bar where they'd left Leon and Gwaine. "Those bastards."
"What?" Arthur startles, and Merlin pulls his hand off Arthur's arm. Arthur had forgotten it was there while they were talking about, but now the place where Merlin's hand had been burns like a brand.
"Those arses- they left us." Merlin digs in his pocket and pulls out his phone, staring down at it with his lip curled in disgust. "'Off to find food. Didn't want to interrupt. I'll owe you cab fare.' from Gwaine. I told that bastard I didn't know where I was."
"I can drive you home" Arthur offers. "Or at least to a tube station."
Merlin sighs. "I appreciate that. But you shouldn't have to just because my best friend is an inconsiderate arse."
"My best mate, too," Arthur says. "C'mon. I'm hungry, and for all that this is Leon's favourite place in the world, there are better places in this city to eat. I can drop you off somewhere after."
"Can't say no to an offer like that, I suppose," Merlin says and stands. "You should know, though, that I'm a picky eater."
Arthur stops pulling his jacket on. "How picky?"
"I tend to think toasted cheese sandwiches are the hautest of cuisine." Merlin laughs at Arthur's frown. "Perhaps not that bad, but I'm still pretty choosy."
"I think that if you'll trust me, I can find something for you."
That night, as Arthur's driving home after dropping Merlin off- he doesn't live that far from Arthur, after all- his phone beeps, signalling a text. Arthur's pulse picks up a little bit, but out of habit, he waits until he's parked in the garage of his building before pulling his phone out.
It wasn't toasted cheese, but I think I'm inclined to trust your foodie instincts from now on.
Arthur climbs into bed later that night, finding it harder and harder to relegate thoughts of Merlin to the back of his mind.
**********
"I can't believe Leon and Gwaine bailed on us."
Arthur pulls his jacket tighter around himself and tries not to huddle against the brick wall of the club. He doesn't even want to think about what disgusting things might have occurred there. Merlin frowns down at his phone like that will change the text message he'd received from Gwaine. Arthur has a similar text on his phone from Leon.
Pissing down is not the best weather to go dancing in. Staying in tonight, mate. Have fun.
"Why are we friends with those arses?" Merlin asks, still scowling down at his phone. "You know they're just staying in for a shag."
"Sounds like somebody is jealous," the man in front of them sing-songs. "I don't know why you would be when you're in line with the best looking man this club has seen in sometime."
Arthur can feel Merlin's glance, but he keeps his head down, staring at his phone and hoping that Leon will send another message saying that he's just joking, that he and Gwaine are stuck on the damn trains and they'll meet them in just a few.
He's just not sure he can handle spending an entire evening with Merlin in a gay dance club. He's less sure as to whether he can handle watching Merlin enjoy himself in a gay club.
He's tried to figure out what it is about Merlin, but he's only ended up confused, and to his shame, aroused. He's pulled off to thoughts of friends before and has even been able to look them in the eye later, but something about Merlin makes him hesitate. He's long given up on fighting with himself over whether or not he finds Merlin attractive- the man's long limbs and sharp cheekbones fascinate Arthur- but he can't make himself act on any of the desires he feels.
"Maybe we should go." Merlin shifts his weight from one foot to the other. "You didn't seem too excited to do this when we were all out to dinner last week."
"But you wanted to," Arthur says. "If I remember correctly, you were all 'Gwaine, we haven't been to the clubs since you and Leon started fucking."
"I didn't say that."
"All right, you implied it when you said that they were dating."
"That's because they hardly ever leave their flats to see anyone. We were lucky we managed to get dinner with them the other night. When was the last time you saw Leon alone?"
Arthur has to think for a second. "That night at the pub."
"Exactly."
"Sounds like someone's jealous," Arthur repeats the line the man in front of them had used and Merlin startles. He jumps away from the brick wall like it delivers a shock to his system, then tries to cover it up by moving along the line as it inches closer and closer to the door of the club.
"What? No. I'm not." Arthur raises his eyebrows. "I'm happy Gwaine's found someone."
"But-"
"But I miss having a friend to get dinner with or go to the cinema with. I ate Pot Noodle three times this week because I didn't want to go out by myself."
"Don't be a girl. You can go out to eat by yourself without it being weird."
"Yeah?" Merlin asks. "When was the last time you did it?"
Arthur turns his face away so Merlin won't see his blush. "It's been awhile. That's not the point. Pot Noodle? Really? Tell me this. How did you manage to live to be thirty-three? Be honest."
"I survive on a diet of takeaways and Pot Noodle." Merlin crosses his arms over is chest. "And the occasional tin of pineapple."
"You're lucky you met me then," Arthur says as they arrive at the door to the club. "I now know that my mission in life is to make sure you don't die of scurvy."
"Scurvy? Really?" Merlin holds out his ID to the bouncer who does a double take at the date of birth then waves them both through. Arthur never even pulls his license out.
"I'll get the drinks," Merlin says, "if you can scope out a table. Any requests?"
"Yeah." Arthur has to yell to be heard over the pounding bass. "Get yourself something with fruit in it. I don't want you to die of scurvy while we're here. Can you imagine me trying to explain that to Leon and Gwaine?"
Merlin, for all he had told Arthur he was trying to put away childish habits, seems to have no problem flipping him two fingers. Arthur grins and heads off to find a table.
He's hoping not to have to stand all evening, but men are packed in tight all around the perimeter of the dance floor. Arthur takes a deep breath and starts to make his way up the stairs, hoping he'll get lucky and there will still be a place left when he finally makes his way to the upper level. It's quieter upstairs, and his effort is rewarded when two guys who had been snogging rather enthusiastically in a booth that looks out over the dance floor decide to take it somewhere else. Where, Arthur doesn't want to know, even if he can guess.
He's just sat down and arranged himself so he can see the antics on the dance floor, and really, he's never seen so much glitter in his life, when the man from earlier, when they'd still been waiting to get into the club slides into the booth next to Arthur.
"Ditch Dumbo already?" he asks. He traces a finger up Arthur's arm. "Not that I blame you. You look like a man who can be a little rough and I don't think he could take that much."
"I'm sure he can take plenty," Arthur says and tries to shrug the man off. He hadn't come here for this. "Look, I don't want to waste your time. Go find someone else to pull."
"Ahh, but I saw you first. And I always get what I go after." He puts his hand on the top of Arthur's right thigh and leans in, trying to kiss at Arthur's neck. Arthur strong-arms him out of the way, trying to shove him out of the booth.
"Arthur, when I told you to save a seat for me, I didn't mean on the other side of the booth." Arthur never thought he'd be so glad to hear Merlin's voice. He glances around the man to see Merlin carefully set the giant goblets he's carrying down on the table then place a hand on the chap's shoulder.
"Sorry, mate, but we're not into sharing." Merlin pulls on the man's arm until he gets out of the booth, then Merlin is not nice about shoving him out of the way. He slides into the booth with Arthur, and Arthur is surprised to feel the tug of Merlin's fingers in his hair.
"If he wasn't still watching I wouldn't do this," he says and presses his lips to Arthur's.
Arthur's mouth was already open in shock so Merlin slips his tongue right past Arthur's lips, licking into his mouth like he owns it. It should be awkward; it's the first time Arthur has kissed anyone since Leon, and first kisses are always a little weird, but Arthur is in such shock that he just lets Merlin tilt his head in whatever direction he needs it to go.
When Merlin pulls back, Arthur can tell, even in the dim light of the club, that Merlin is flushed. His stare is intense and Arthur finds himself glancing around him to find that the guy has left.
"Sorry," Merlin says. He slides back down the seat away from Arthur and grabs both drinks from the end of the table. "I've met him before and he's very persistent. "We can go somewhere else if you were trying to meet someone tonight. I just- you looked like a frightened animal."
"I am not a bloody kitten," Arthur says. "But thank you. And I don't mind staying. I didn't have any plans of pulling. But if you did- I guess your time here tonight is ruined. We can go somewhere else after we finish our drinks so you can try your luck."
Arthur sees the drinks that Merlin ended up buying them and bursts out laughing right in the middle of stumbling over his words. Merlin gives him a sheepish grin. Arthur picks one of the goblets up, lifting it over his head so he can look through the pink liquid to the chunks of pineapple and mandarin orange floating in it, topped by what looked to be an entire layer of maraschino cherries.
"Sorry. I asked for the fruitiest drink they had," Merlin says, and picks up his own drink, clinking it against Arthur's. The force of it is ridiculous, but the goblets are heavy on their own, much less laden down with alcohol soaked fruit. "Cheers."
They both take long swallows of their drinks and out of the corner of his eye, Arthur watches Merlin's Adam's apple bob. It does nothing to help deal with the erection he's had since Merlin placed his lips on Arthur's, and Arthur doesn't know that he has enough willpower not to pull off to these memories. They're too fresh, too perfect, really, and if he wanted to keep his self-control intact then he never should have agreed to this in the first place. Watching Merlin out there on the dance floor with other men will be tortuous, and Arthur knows it, especially now that he knows that Merlin wears menthol lip balm.
"I mean it, you know," Merlin says when he sets his drink back down on the table. "If you want to try a different club, that's okay with me. I want you to be able to have a good time, too, and if you're going to be uncomfortable now-"
"Did you see anyone you wanted to dance with? I don't want to ruin your night, either."
Merlin shrugs. "No one's caught my eye just yet. I like to dance, but I'm not any good at it, so I try and make a fool of myself as little as possible."
"I doubt that very seriously. You seem like the type to make a fool of yourself if someone else is uncomfortable, just to make them feel better." Merlin shrugs again and ducks his head, then glances up at Arthur through his eyelashes.
"Speaking of." Merlin clears his throat and drags a finger along rim of his goblet, "look, I'm sure you know this already, and Christ, I was going to wait until I was I was completely hammered to say something, or better yet, I was going to make sure Gwaine was completely hammered and then let him at you, because that way you could have shrugged it off as drunken rambling, but&ndash"
"Merlin, what the hell are you talking about?"
Merlin takes a deep breath in and then all of his words rush at once. He won't meet Arthur's eye.
"Youknowtherearegloryholesinestablishmentsliketheseifoneweretowanttohavesomekindofanonymousexperience." Merlin makes a hand gesture that Arthur is at a loss to recognize the meaning off. "And no one would ever have to know about your leg. I know you don't like people knowing, and oh, fuck, I'm sure this is the most offensive thing I've ever said to someone, drunk or sober, but if you wanted to, Arthur, to get yourself back out there, you could. Just so you know."
Arthur wants to answer, to ask what the hell Merlin is rambling about and what does he mean he should have let Gwaine tell him, but his teeth literally hurt from the sound of Lady Gaga wailing on about being Born This Way. Instead of trying to figure it out, he sets a hand on Merlin's shoulder.
"Finish your drink," he says, "unless that will make you even less coherent. One sip and you're already drunk."
"I've already had half of mine and picked out most of the fruit, and you've barely started on yours," Merlin says, frowning. "Anyway, please don't be mad at me. I just thought that you might want to take the edge off, since Leon says that it's been so long. But never mind, just forget I said anything."
"Wait." Arthur's hand tightens on his goblet, as he realises what Merlin's been going on about. "You all planned this trip to take me out, get me drunk, and then what? You were going to stick my dick in a glory hole and wait outside the stall until I was finished?"
Merlin's face is miserable and he nods before taking another long swallow of his drink. He sets the glass back down on the table and uses his long fingers to fish a piece of pineapple out of the bottom. "We weren't going to get that involved, of course, we just wanted to suggest it to you as an option."
"And it didn't occur to any of you I might not be interested in this brilliant plan?"
"It occurred to us. Or at least to me. I told you, I'm offended at myself for even thinking it was a good idea, and that's why I told you now, while you're still sober, instead of getting you drunk and then you suddenly thinking getting your cock sucked was a great idea."
"Getting me that drunk seems counterproductive."
"Doesn't it? I can't believe we ever even had this conversation. I'm sure Leon and Gwaine bailed on us because they grew a conscience."
"They bailed because they wanted to stay home and shag."
"So you're not cheesed with us? Because, to be honest, I would be." Merlin gives Arthur a sidelong glance down the seat of the booth. Arthur narrows his eyes.
"Oh, I'm incredibly offended, and I'll probably take it out on you in ways that involve manual labour and probably make you responsible for moving all my furniture when the lease on my flat is up." He pauses, waiting as Merlin nods as though that's an appropriate punishment. Arthur waits for another moment before continuing. "But I must say, I'm impressed with your ingenuity."
Merlin startles, nearly choking on the cherry he's sucking on. "You are?"
"You managed to come up with a way to not only get me out of the house, but also the possibility of getting laid. I'm not thrilled with the idea, but even Morgana and Gwen didn't come up with that plan. Devious as it was, I feel like that deserves at least a little bit of respect."
"No," Merlin says, with a shake of his head. "It really doesn't. Look, did you want to get out there and dance tonight?"
"Not particularly."
"Then finish your drink and let's go. I need to go bury myself in my shame."
"Merlin." Arthur places a hand on his knee. "It's really okay. I do think it's funny in kind of a skeevy way. Let's just put it behind us, say we were drunk when we joked about it." Merlin nods, still looking miserable. "Besides I can still hold it against you by making you move furniture. In fact, I'm quite sure I hate my sofa where it is now."
Merlin laughs. "That may be your downfall. I have no upper body strength to speak of."
"You look like you do all right for yourself."
Merlin looks up at Arthur through lowered lashes and Arthur freezes. Is this flirting? It's been so long since he flirted with anyone that Arthur's almost forgotten what it's like. Then he remembers the first time he met Merlin, the insinuation in Merlin's voice when he'd said that Gwen had given him the instruction to take special care of Arthur.
Arthur shudders. His hand is still on Merlin's knee but he makes no effort to remove it.
"Can I?" Merlin asks, and this time he's not shouting to be heard above the noise of the club. He's looking at Arthur's mouth now, and Arthur finds his own gaze dropping to trace the shape of Merlin's lips. "Can I just-" Merlin asks again and then his lips are on Arthur's more tentative than before, a gentle pressure that leaves Arthur reeling.
Arthur presses back. He leaves the hand on Merlin's knee right there but raises his other hand to tangle in Merlin's soft hair. This time he is the one to trace the pout of Merlin's lower lip, to open Merlin's mouth with his own, and damn, does it feel good to kiss someone. Just to kiss, not even to do anything else. By the time Arthur pulls away from Merlin, he's breathless.
"I've wanted to do that since you first walked into my shop," Merlin says right into Arthur's ear because it seems like they've cranked up the music again. "I was going to be terribly jealous if you had wanted to dance with other men tonight."
Arthur shakes his head. "I would think the reason I don't dance would be pretty obvious."
"I'll get you to dance with me one day," Merlin promises. "For now, though, let's get out of here."
The terror must be evident on his face, because Merlin leans in and nuzzles at his ear. "Not for that," he says. "I'm kind of an old fashioned guy in that regard. Let me take you out on a proper date first then I'll try and get you to put out."
"I'm not that easy," Arthur warns with a laugh.
"Well, at least let me take you someplace where we can hear each other better."
"That," Arthur says, and shoves at Merlin's shoulder to get him to leave the booth, "sounds like the best idea you've had all night."
**********
Merlin calls him the next morning.
"Christ, I said some stupid shite last night. I didn't even drink that much," he says and Arthur's heart seizes. He sets down the plate of toast soldiers he made- a hangover food if ever there was one, even if none of the telly chefs would admit to eating them- with more force than is necessary.
"Oh," is all he manages to say.
There's a sharp intake of breath on the other end of the line and then Merlin begins to do his best Gwen impression, talking all over himself and not managing to make any sense at all.
"Wait, you thought I was apologising for- But I had a good time at coffee- I thought that we were clear last night that I'm an arse about some things, but you wouldn't think that I-"
"Slow down, Merlin," Arthur says, despite the way his heart aches.
"I really liked kissing you." Arthur can hear Merlin take another deep breath, and while he's waiting for Merlin to speak again, Arthur finds he is leaning his entire body against the island in the kitchen. He'd decided upon waking to use his cane while making his way around his flat for the morning; after standing for so long waiting to get into the club the night before, his body can use the rest, but now it seems as though his cane will not be enough to support his weight.
"And I'd like to do it again sometime," Merlin continues. Arthur's heart feels lighter. "I was calling to apologise for what I said last night, about the glory hole. That was inappropriate, and I understand if you'd rather not hear from me again."
"I answered the phone, didn't I?"
There's a pause. This is clearly not the answer that Merlin was expecting. Arthur picks up his cane and his plate and goes into the dining room, where he settles down to his breakfast.
"Yes," Merlin says, "you did answer the phone."
"And do you really think that I would have let you kiss me if I'd been offended by what you said to me?"
"Um, no? But you had been drinking, and it was loud in there, so I thought maybe I should clarify that I said something thoughtless."
"Merlin" Arthur draws out the other man's name like he is explaining something to a child "people say thoughtless things to me all the time. Two days after I'd returned to work after all of my rehab, my father asked me to look up some numbers for him before telling me that these numbers would help him get a leg up on whatever the lib-dems were proposing that week. I don't even recall what it was about."
"He didn't."
"That is my father for you. I'm inured to insensitive comments." Arthur pauses and pinches the bridge of his nose. "Most of the time. Morgana can still get one in every once in awhile."
"It's always the people closest to us who can twist the knife the deepest," Merlin says. "They know all of our insecurities."
"Quite."
"So, if I were to bring you beer to apologise for being an insensitive arse, what would I bring you?"
Arthur laughs and checks the clock on the microwave. "It's half-past ten in the morning."
"Vodka, then?" Merlin says. "We can make Bloody Marys and pretend to be posh."
"I am posh," Arthur says and he can hear Merlin snort on the other end of the line. "Tell you what. There's a great brunch place about halfway between us. I can eat and you can drink, and you can pretend to be posh while I act like I wouldn't be seen with someone who was trying so hard."
"Can we wear our sunglasses indoors?" Merlin asks. "I don't think I'll be able to manage posh without them."
Arthur heaves a put-upon sigh. "If you must. Again with the trying too hard."
When they get to the restaurant, Merlin balks at Arthur ordering the chicken schnitzel.
"It's fried chicken," Arthur points out. "Nothing more complicated than that."
"Posh." Merlin replies with a shake of his head. He's refused to take of his aviators and it appears as though he's forgotten to brush his hair this morning. Despite both of those things, Arthur is charmed.
Even more so when he feels the light pressure of Merlin's foot on top of his while Merlin tries to suppress a smile.
**********
Arthur finds that he loves to cook for Merlin. It's fascinating to watch his face change from disbelieving to blissful as Arthur convinces him to try something new. The fights Merlin puts up are for show, Arthur quickly learns, but it's still charming the way Merlin's lower lip pouts out when Arthur has a spoonful of sauce or a piece of fruit or cheese for him to try.
Arthur tries to tell himself that he doesn't find it sexy, but he knows he's lying.
Sometimes Merlin brings Arthur candy from the old fashioned glass jars that line the shelves of the apothecary and laughs when Arthur gives him a wary look.
"It's not as old as everything else in the shop," he says. Arthur flushes as he thinks back to the dusty jars he'd seen the first time he met Merlin. "I reorder the candies every week from a place across town."
He's quickly discovered Arthur's secret sweet tooth, and while Arthur moans about having to work out on the strength training equipment he keeps in the spare room, he loves that Merlin thinks of him, that he worked out Arthur's favourite combination of chocolate and coconut. Arthur had forgotten how nice it was to have someone know him that well.
He learns that Merlin is terrified of horror movies but loves to see them all the same. Arthur likes the way Merlin starts off sitting on the opposite end of the sofa when it's his night to choose what DVD they'll watch after Arthur cooks, but ends up practically in Arthur's lap by the end of the night. Arthur doesn't think it's a calculated move because Merlin's been nothing but straightforward with him since that night in the club. Still, he likes the way Merlin buries his face in Arthur's neck, muttering about the protagonist not being intelligent enough to get out of the house or woods or haunted train station. It's cute, even if he would never tell Merlin that.
At some point, Arthur tells Merlin about his mother, about the way she'd died when Arthur was not yet a month old. Merlin's face is empathetic when Arthur talks about the cerebral haemorrhage that had taken the life of a woman that he never knew. Then he lets Merlin take him out for a beer and Merlin lets Arthur coach him at darts, though they're both quiet for most of the evening.
"Isn't that Morgana?" Merlin asks one night when they are out for dinner at a pub near Parliament. It isn't a fancy place, but Merlin has begged off of his foodie training for a night.
"I'd really like to eat something that I can spell all of the ingredients in," is how he phrases it to Arthur.
"You make it sound like I'm feeding you processed foods," Arthur replies, scandalised. "I would never."
The pub is both crowded and dark, a place where the younger staffers of Parliament members like to congregate and complain about their bosses and hook up with sexual partners that they will almost always regret the next day. Arthur's been here for drinks once or twice and done his share of bitching about his father, but for the most part, he doesn't like to socialise with people he will see at work. Many of them are young and liberal and don't understand how Arthur can stand to work for someone who would be so outspoken against his very being, but Arthur has never known how to explain that he's all his father has.
Arthur tries to see around the clusters of people but finds it easier to pick out the people Morgana would normally be seen with and eventually he notices Alvarr, the idealistic lib-dem MP she works for making his way to the bar.
"I'm sure she's here somewhere," he tells Merlin. "Alvarr tends to depend on her for everything, it seems."
He depends on Morgana more than Arthur had known, he realises, when he sees the two of them as he and Merlin are leaving. Morgana doesn't notice them, she's so focused on Alvarr, but the look in her eyes is one Arthur recogonises. He worries he's projecting it on his own face every time he looks at Merlin.
Arthur knows that Alvarr is married, that his wife Enmyria stays out of London as much as possible. Arthur's not sure what Morgana thinks, whether or not she cares that everyone in the pub knows what's going on, and he wonders how long this has been going on, how long everyone has known.
It's a sobering thought, that he's missed this about his own sister, and he vows to make more time with her even as he gives in to the press of Merlin's hand to the small of his back.
**********
Master Post :: Part One :: Part Two :: Part Three