lady_ragnell (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
lady_ragnell) wrote2011-03-12 01:36 am
lady_ragnell) wrote2011-03-12 01:36 am
The Hardest Way Possible (part 2)
Part One
Arthur has no idea what’s going on. Well, on the surface he does. Gwen and Elena decided that since they were dating men from the same social group that their social groups should meet, and since their boyfriends are apparently pushovers (which makes Arthur just a shameful bit glad that he didn’t get anywhere with either of them), there are anywhere between eight and ten people at the table at any given time (since apparently all of Merlin’s friends work at his restaurant), making awkward conversation that feels like a first date with far too many people.
No, the confusing part is Gwaine. Gwaine is attractive and definitely into men if his smacking Will’s arse and then proceeding to leer at Arthur and Leon (and Morgana and Gwen and Elena, so strictly speaking apparently he’s bisexual, but that’s a step better than Lance or Percival) is any indication. Of course Arthur knew within the first five minutes that Gwaine would be a one-night shag and not a relationship, but that wasn’t really a deterrent and so he flirted, and Gwaine actually flirted back.
Everything was going swimmingly, in fact, until Merlin came out of the back to lean all over Lance’s chair and chat to them while avoiding Arthur’s eyes at every opportunity. Apparently the awkwardness of their past encounters got to him. After he left, though, Gwaine sent a considering look after him, and then clammed up, even going so far as to tell Will that he would take over for Merlin in the kitchen when Arthur kept trying.
“You’re a bit of a twat, but we’ll see what happens,” says Gwaine just before he leaves, punching Arthur’s shoulder and kissing Morgana’s hand on his way. Elena, sitting on his other side, pats his thigh as Merlin emerges with a plate full of rice and vegetables, looking less than pleased at being ejected from his own kitchen.
After a quick look around the table, Merlin takes Freya’s sometimes-seat in between Percival and Lance instead of the one Gwaine vacated next to Arthur, and Arthur is unaccountably stung. It’s not that he’ll languish without Merlin’s attention, but for two gay men to dismiss him in as many minutes is a bit galling. He’s not used to being rejected, until the past few weeks, that is. Anyway, he tells himself firmly, Merlin isn’t his type.
As if she can read his mind, Morgana gives Arthur a dirty look and looks over at Merlin. “The food here is absolutely delicious. I’m surprised I haven’t heard of it before.”
Merlin shrugs, giving her a bashful smile through his lashes. “We’re nothing special. Just the kind of thing you get served in your grandmother’s kitchen, or that’s what my mother told me when she still ran it. But I’m glad you like it.”
Everyone falls over themselves to tell Merlin how delicious dinner was and how lovely the little hole-in-the-wall restaurant is, and Arthur is tempted to join in until he realizes that Will is hovering by the table and cracking up, and that Merlin’s blush is a bit more mortified than pleased. “Mate,” says Will, “it’s like you have superpowers or something. He’s been like this since primary,” he informs the table at large. “Five minutes and he has everyone around wrapped around his finger. Everyone likes him.”
Merlin gives Will a two-fingered salute and answers with his mouth full. “Not everyone likes me, you bastard. Arthur doesn’t like me. Right?” He looks at Arthur for support, sounding remarkably cheerful about it.
Arthur, on the other hand, is a good deal less cheerful, because everyone at the table is looking at him with near-identical looks of disapproval. Including Leon and Elena, who he thought he could count on to be on his side. “I don’t know you well enough to dislike you,” he says when he realizes that some sort of rebuttal is required.
“We’ve talked about compliments, brother dear, and how bad you are at giving them,” says Morgana, looking only just more amused than annoyed, and Arthur realizes how idiotic his last comment sounded.
Not that he’ll admit it. “Well, it’s not like I can tell Merlin that his shoes are lovely and match his dress perfectly, Morgana.”
“Apparently you’re immune to Merlin’s superpowers, Arthur,” says Elena in her This Is Significant tone of voice, and Arthur admits that perhaps he should be nicer and it isn’t precisely Merlin’s fault that he’s always around when Arthur makes a complete tit of himself.
From the red on Merlin’s cheeks and the way he’s staring at his plate, it’s pretty clear that he doesn’t want an apology, or any attention at all, so Arthur decides it’s his duty to change the subject somehow. “Perhaps it’s my superpower to be immune to superpowers.”
“Nah, you’re just a bastard,” says Leon, amiably enough, and grins at him enough that Arthur doesn’t get stung by it.
“Now, that isn’t nice,” Merlin says, and his face lights up with a grin. The power of it makes Arthur blink and wonder if he isn’t being affected by Merlin’s superpowers after all. “Could be he’s just a bit thick and the force of my personality hasn’t made it through his skull yet.” He goes still right after he finishes saying it, like he hadn’t quite meant to say the words out loud, and somehow that manages to break the ice.
They end up staying around for another hour, and the conversation is a lot less stilted than it was earlier in the night. Will, Freya, and even Gwaine stop by every once in a while to tell a story or add to the conversation, and Merlin leaves once in a while to greet a regular or make sure Gwaine isn’t buried in the back. When he returns he usually has a plate of appetizers or a new bottle of wine or something else with him, and Arthur warms to him more than he’d expected.
“Right, you lot, I have to close this place up and you aren’t helping,” says Merlin at last, which seems to be some sort of magical cue for all of his friends to get up and start grabbing supplies from behind the bar to clean the tables.
Arthur sits and fidgets for about ten seconds before deciding that he might as well be useful, and he goes and picks up a cloth with the rest of them and wets it in a bucket once Lancelot has filled it. Elena joins him pretty quickly, helping Percival move the room back into its base configuration after half the customers hauled tables together and apart all evening, and all his other friends get up to help as well, despite Merlin and Lance protesting.
After a few minutes, when everyone is busily engaged in cleaning and Merlin is closing down the bar, Arthur slips into the kitchen, where Gwaine and a few other employees are washing dishes and putting things away. Arthur approaches Gwaine and makes sure to keep his voice low when he speaks. “What the hell was all that about, out there? You lost interest pretty fast.”
Gwaine gives him an unimpressed look. He and Morgana and Elena ought to form a club. “You’ll figure it out eventually, your Highness. Now, as long as you’re back here, you can help us with the pots and pans.”
*
Merlin meets Gilli when he finally gives in after a week of working noon to midnight every day and advertises for a second chef. Gwaine’s good enough as a stop-gap, but he wants someone trained, and Gilli is the first one to interview. Merlin’s first uncharitable thought is I can’t hire him, Gwaine will find some sort of joke about us both having ridiculous ears and chase him off within the first week, but Gilli turns out to be a good chef and great company, if a little angry at the world.
He asks Merlin out during a slow dinner shift after an exhausting game of Frisbee in the park. It’s been almost three weeks since the dinner at Ealdor and Merlin’s shocked at how well his group of friends, rag-tag and barely paying the rent, gets along with their new friends, all of whom are posh and most of whom are higher-ups at Pendragon Corporation. It seems unlikely, but despite some awkwardness they all get along really well, even if it makes the games even more cutthroat than they were before. Merlin had begged out after Morgana hit him right in the gut with a very well-aimed throw and Arthur had fussed at him for a good five minutes before rejoining the game. “So, I know that when you’re not working I am and vice versa,” says Gilli, de-boning a chicken while Merlin wonders if Morgana cracked on of his ribs, “but I was wondering if you’d like to do something sometime. Maybe grab breakfast or a coffee or a movie sometime if Gwaine can take over the kitchen.”
Normally, Merlin has hard and fast rules about not sleeping with anyone who works at his restaurant, having learned the hard way that it only makes things awkward and complicated and that it becomes impossible to actually find time to spend together outside of work. But his infatuation with Arthur still hasn’t gone away and he desperately wants it to, especially with them spending so much more time together lately. His friends all know, of course, and Will won’t stop teasing about it (although Gwaine, for reasons best known to himself, stopped with that after the night they all had dinner. Things are awkward between he and Arthur now, but he brushes off Merlin’s questions whenever he tries to ask), but more worryingly, he thinks Arthur’s friends are starting to suspect. Remembering Gwen’s worried look after Arthur finished making sure Morgana hadn’t ruptured Merlin’s spleen, he smiles at Gilli and picks up a knife to start chopping the onions they’ll need for tonight’s soup. “I’d like that. Maybe brunch, the day after tomorrow? We could meet here, there’s a place a couple streets over that serves great breakfast even during the week.”
Gilli beams at him, and they finish the rest of the prep for dinner in near-silence. Merlin goes home that night grinning and makes a point of not telling any of his friends about the date, because that would just jinx it.
Of course, that also means that he has no warning when, fifteen minutes into his brunch with Gilli (who looks like he might be inching his hand over to hold Merlin’s), Arthur and Leon walk in, arguing about something business-related. He should have known better than to go on a date somewhere Elena and Gwen introduced him to. “Brace yourself,” he says to Gilli, since it’s only fair warning. He hasn’t met the larger group. “I’m afraid our date’s about to be crashed.”
Sure enough, when Arthur and Leon see him, they wave and go to a table right next to Merlin’s, although Leon stops Arthur when he seems likely to just drag chairs over to sit with them. “Good morning, Merlin. Who’s your friend?” Arthur asks.
“This is Gilli, he’s the new chef at Ealdor. Gilli, this is Arthur and Leon, I think I’ve told you a bit about them. Are you two here on a business brunch?”
“Yes,” says Leon, who has clearly picked up that Merlin is on a date and doesn’t really want it interrupted, especially not by the man who he has a huge sodding crush on.
“Nothing that can’t wait a few minutes, though.” Arthur leans around Merlin to wave at Gilli. “You haven’t been around that I’ve seen before.”
Gilli is glaring and Merlin knows he hasn’t got the best opinion of posh people, so he intercepts before they can start arguing. “Like I said, he’s the new chef, so you wouldn’t know him.”
“I imagine we’ll get to know him. If he’s at Ealdor it’s only a matter of time before he joins the group.”
“He sort of is already,” says Merlin, trying not to grind his teeth. It’s not like he doesn’t like Arthur--he actually enjoys his company, when he’s not being a prat, so it isn’t just his hormones making him so damn attracted--but having him along on a date that’s mostly about getting over him is counterproductive. It’s that thought that leads him to blurt “We’re on a date right now, so if you wouldn’t mind …”
“Oh,” says Arthur, and they stare at each other for a few seconds trying to figure out exactly what is supposed to happen next. Merlin certainly can’t think of anything to say to make the situation less awkward. “Of course. We’ll leave you to it,” Arthur adds eventually, in a stiff tone Merlin can’t place, and makes a point of turning around and starting to talk about mergers or investments or something else equally confusing.
Merlin goes back to making first-date conversation with Gilli, but he’s all too aware of Arthur’s presence at his back and feels more trapped than anything by the end. Luckily, Arthur and Leon leave first, apparently for some sort of meeting with the Marketing department (run by Morgana), and Merlin does his best to salvage the date from there. Gilli stops him after barely five minutes. “So, this isn’t going to work.” Merlin stares at him. “If you want to make your ex jealous, that’s fine, but I’d rather not deal with it.”
“What? We never dated. We don’t date.”
“Either way, you’re great, and I’m definitely going to keep working at Ealdor, but you should get things sorted with him instead of going out with me. I’ll see you for the dinner shift tomorrow.” And with that extraordinary announcement, Gilli waves and walks out of the restaurant, slumping the second he’s out the door like he doesn’t realize Merlin can see him through the massive window.
Merlin feels wretchedly guilty, and it isn’t until he’s back in his flat getting ready to call Freya that he finally remembers where he’d heard Arthur sound like that before: after Percival fell hard for Elena in the park.
It takes nearly half an hour to convince himself that Arthur is just being a prat and definitely isn’t interested, for his own sanity.
*
Arthur is not jealous. He is not, no matter the looks his friends give him when he misses games in the park the third time running with an excuse even he will admit is lame. It just so happens that he wants a bit of distance from Merlin and his friends, and the original guesses his friends have for him avoiding the park are certainly reason enough for that.
“Is the thing with Lance bothering you still?” Gwen asks the second he bows out the first time.
“I thought you didn’t mind about Percival,” says Elena anxiously when she hears.
Morgana’s more blunt. “If this is just because Gwaine turned you down, Arthur, one would think you could swallow your pride and make friends.”
Leon stays quiet about it, although he was there when they accidentally crashed Merlin’s date and probably has suspicions of his own. He rolls his eyes at Arthur but doesn’t try to talk him into going.
Elena is the one who voices it the third time Arthur turns down an outing, on a gorgeous Saturday afternoon when he would otherwise never turn the opportunity down, and she at least has the decency to drag him into privacy before starting to harangue him. “This is about Merlin, isn’t it? I don’t know what your problem with him is, other than him seeing you at less than your best. Or … have you finally got yourself sorted where he’s concerned? Because that might explain it too.”
“I have no sorting to do where Merlin is concerned.”
Her eyebrows draw together. “So you didn’t figure it out?”
Arthur sighs. “Figure what out, Ellie?”
She sighs right back at him and he wonders vaguely if it’s that annoying when he does it. “Normally, we all like to let you figure things out for yourself, and I think after the first time most of us sort of guessed that you had and you were freaking out about it, but--”
“I’m not a child,” he feels compelled to point out.
“Arthur. Merlin has--or had, at least--a huge whopping crush on you. Probably since the night you met Lance. And you’ve sort of been stomping all over his heart since. So I figured either you’re avoiding him because you figured that out and wanted to let him down gently instead of systematically working your way through his friends, or you’re avoiding him because you developed a crush in return and you can’t handle it because you think he’s not your type.” Arthur tries to figure out what to say to that. Elena moves from exasperated to pitying in less than a second. “You really hadn’t figured it out.”
“Leon and I accidentally interrupted Merlin while he was on a date,” he says without quite meaning to.
Elena smacks his arm. “And you didn’t tell me? It’s not Merlin’s fault if he doesn’t want to wait around for you to figure out that you’re jealous.”
“I am not jealous.” She just looks at him. “Really, Elena, I’m not. Merlin is skinny, and he has ridiculous ears, and he is too clumsy to go anywhere without a keeper, and--”
“And you’re smiling,” she points out. “My God, you’ve got it bad.”
“You are being ridiculous.”
“Then you won’t mind coming along to the park with us.” Arthur opens to his mouth to object to her shoddy logic if nothing else. “Or I’ll tell Morgana,” she finishes, which really isn’t fair.
Arthur finds himself at the park twenty minutes later, trying hard not to sulk. Everyone’s there, and that includes Merlin--and Gilli. Who is quite chummy with Merlin and the rest of his friends, and sitting off to the side arguing menus with Merlin when they get there. He glares at Arthur when they show up, and Arthur pretends not to see it because of course he isn’t jealous, that’s just Elena putting ideas in his head, and Gilli’s got no right to dislike him, since he left them alone after he twigged it was a date.
To add insult to injury, Gilli excuses himself five minutes after Arthur arrives. “I’ve got first shift in the kitchen tonight,” he explains to the group at large, and gives Arthur another dirty look.
By the time he’s said his goodbyes and gone, all of Arthur’s friends are staring between them with knowing looks that Arthur really does not want to see the results of. Eventually they start actually playing games, though, and Arthur drifts over to Merlin’s blanket, ignoring Elena’s raised eyebrows. “I’m sorry again about the other day,” he offers when Merlin just squints at him.
“It was pretty awkward,” says Merlin, which is half an acknowledgment and half, Arthur hopes, an acceptance of his apology. “Aren’t you going to join the others?”
“I’m here under protest.”
“Yes, I’d noticed you haven’t been around.” Merlin takes a breath and Arthur doesn’t even bother hoping that he isn’t going to mention it, because of course Merlin would. He isn’t the type to let something like that pass. “I sort of feel like that’s my fault. I mean, you get along with the rest of us.”
Arthur gives him a disbelieving look. Gwaine’s still ignoring him more often than not, and he and Will can’t talk for more than five seconds without trading barbs. “I’ve had a busy time of it lately, that’s all.”
Merlin just shrugs. “Sorry to hear that, then. Suppose it must be busy being a CEO.”
“Not as busy as you. I’ve no idea how you have time for any sort of life at all.” Arthur settles down next to Merlin even though he gets a sideways glance for it.
“Well, Gilli helps with that, and Gwaine when he can. Just like you’ve got all the heads of your departments to cover for you.” Merlin nods towards the game. “And I can’t complain, really. It pays the rent, and helps out a lot of my friends as well, on top of which I get to cook for a living.”
“You’ve always wanted to?”
“I was brought up in a kitchen. Apparently my da had a chef’s hat on me before I was a year old. There are pictures. And then after he left my mam kept me around, and my uncle likes cooking too, although he isn’t a chef.”
Arthur keeps him talking about his mother, who’s apparently on a farm in the country somewhere, and his uncle, a psychologist in the city, while the games go on, and after periodic mistrustful looks from Merlin (not to mention everyone else), he finally relaxes and they have a proper conversation, and the whole thing is surprisingly nice.
Elena raises her eyebrows at him when she leaves with Percival, and Arthur leaves when Merlin does, unwilling to undergo the interrogation he’s sure Morgana and Gwen will give him quite yet.
It isn’t until he’s walking in the door to his flat and wondering when he can have a conversation with Merlin again that he realizes Elena was right and he might be in more than a bit of trouble.
*
“So, you and Arthur seemed cozy at the park today,” says Freya when Merlin gets to the restaurant that night. “Has he finally made a move? Or did you?”
“No, no moving, no dating, no anything, seriously. I think that was his way of apologizing for ruining my date with Gilli the other week, that’s all.” She just peers at him, disbelieving but too polite to say anything of the sort. “We just talked about our families and stuff. And I babbled.”
“Sounds like great first date conversation,” she says, and Merlin would send her out onto the floor to take orders but he has no illusions about actually having authority over his employees. They just tend to laugh at him when he tries to order them about. “I don’t know how you can’t see it, Merlin. He was just staring right in your eyes that whole time, like you were the most fascinating thing in the world, and he kept touching you.”
And Merlin was acutely aware of the touching but Arthur is probably just physical with his friends and Freya is starting to look like he’s her favorite character from a soppy film so he has to stop her before she gets her hopes up. “Freya, I am not actually Elizabeth Bennett, you know. And Arthur would make a rubbish Mr. Darcy, what with making eyes at all my friends.”
“He’s just taken a while to come around, that’s all,” she says, smiling brightly. “No one looks at someone else like he was looking at you without wanting to ravish them.”
“I’m not his type.”
“You men and your types.” Freya rarely gets exasperated, but she’s heading in that direction now. “It’s just an excuse not to give it a try.”
“Could you stop getting my hopes up?” Merlin snaps, and goes to find something to chop, since he ought to be working, after all.
The conversation is on his mind, though, as is Arthur, for the next week. They see each other in passing a few times, and Merlin gets a very odd look from Elena when she stops by Ealdor to see Percival one evening, and every time Arthur makes a point of singling him out to talk to him, even though they’re always in groups. Every one of Merlin’s friends (and Gilli, which is absolutely mortifying) asks him somehow if something’s going on, and by the end of the week he’s snapping at them all to shut up every few minutes because he really needs to not think about it. Arthur is attractive, and fun, and actually nice once you get past the bluster, and Merlin is dangerously close to falling for him before they’d even been in a date. It’s only the constant inner litany of “He wanted Lance first, and Percival next, and then Gwaine” that keeps him from doing something truly stupid, like asking the man out.
It all goes to hell the next Sunday, when Merlin’s leaving the kitchen after an early dinner shift and runs smack into Arthur, who looks a bit thrown, and who isn’t trailing Gwen and Elena and Leon and Morgana for once. “Um, hello,” he says, since Arthur’s just staring and one of them has to say something eventually.
“I was just wondering how you are. You never showed up at the park today, and you usually try to make an appearance.”
“I overslept this morning, is all, and then I had things to get ready for my shift. Are you here for dinner?”
“Only if you’re joining me. The rest of them are out for food that you don’t serve here, but I wasn’t in the mood for a large group so I thought I would come and find you.”
His voice is perfectly friendly and polite, but nothing more, and Merlin calls himself an idiot for getting his hopes up yet again before shrugging. “Truth be told, I was just going to go in search of food that I didn’t cook as well. Maybe a kebab, I could murder a kebab.”
“Kebabs it is, then,” says Arthur, inviting himself along, and hovers around by the door while Merlin says goodbye to all his regulars and employees.
The awkwardness dissipates pretty quickly while they argue amiably over what the best kebab stand in the area is and chat about their friends. Lance and Gwen are probably going to start picking out curtains within weeks, never mind they haven’t been dating long enough to do that. Percival and Elena continue to run one another ragged during jogs and games of Frisbee (and probably other things as well, but Merlin and Arthur give each other horrified looks when they realize that and silently agree to never think of it again). Gwaine actually went on two dates with Gwen’s brother and Freya is trying hard to keep her chin up about it. Merlin asks if Leon and Morgana are ever going to admit they’re in a relationship and Arthur chokes on his kebab in shock, which makes Merlin change the subject fast.
With any of his other friends, Merlin would just invite them up to his flat, especially when he’s as tired as he is, but with Arthur he feels the need to be on neutral ground, preferably in public. It’s far too easy to imagine their ramble around Camelot’s streets as a date, and bringing Arthur back to his flat in that context would only end in disaster. Not that Merlin doesn’t have self-control, because he does, unlike some other people he could mention (Gwaine). It’s just that things with Arthur are feeling a bit too natural, like this is normal and Merlin could thread his arm through Arthur’s and put his chin on Arthur’s shoulder and that Arthur would lean into it. That, he decides, is a dangerous line of thought, and he ought to disengage before he makes an idiot of himself. “I think I’m going to make an early night of it,” he says when they get to a place on the street where it would be easy for them to turn in opposite directions to get home. “It was good to see you.”
Arthur’s face actually falls, but he straightens his shoulders and smiles a second later. “We’ll have to do it again sometime. You’re surprisingly good company, you know.”
“Thanks for the vote of confidence.”
“I didn’t mean it like that. I just thought you were shyer at first.” Arthur stops them walking and pulls out his phone. “Here, I want your number. It’s good to talk to you away from both of our entourages and I have every intention of doing it again.”
With Arthur smiling at him in the light of the street light and the way he takes Merlin’s hand and shoves the phone into it, Merlin knows he’s either got to get some distance or go mad. “Look, don’t take this the wrong way, and you can have my number, but maybe we shouldn’t do this too often?”
Arthur’s face shutters, and Merlin feels hellishly guilty. “I find it hard to think of how that could be taken in a good way, Merlin.”
Merlin owes it to him to be honest. This isn’t secondary school and all their friends are friends. This will be horrible, but probably best for everyone in the long run. “I’ve got a huge stupid crush on you, in case you hadn’t noticed,” he mutters, putting his number in as quick as he can, “and things like this are just going to get my hopes up. Give me a while to get over you, yeah?” He hands Arthur his phone. “I’ve got to go.”
“Merlin--”
“Seriously, Arthur, I do not want to have this conversation right now. I’m going home. I’m sure I’ll see you soon.”
Arthur’s still trying to talk to him, but he doesn’t follow when Merlin turns around and walks away, and that’s what’s important.
Two days later, during which time Arthur doesn’t call him and Merlin tries hard not to wallow, Merlin finds himself on Craigslist late at night again, killing his stupid heartbreak with a bottle of cheap wine and the missed connections. He almost misses the headline while he scrolls listlessly, but once he sees it, he can’t click fast enough, hope flaring into life again.
Ealdor again - m4m (Camelot)
You: charming large-eared chef who’s got superpowers that apparently take a while to work on me. Me: complete idiot who’s maybe a bit in love with you and might have fucked things up the other night by not just grabbing you and snogging you when I could. Ask someone for my number? I don’t want to call you till I’m sure you’ve seen this.
-Location: Camelot
-It is NOT okay to contact this poster with services or other commercial interests
*
Arthur’s mobile rings at one thirty on a Wednesday morning, waking him up, and he’s all set to growl at whoever’s on the other line when he sees Merlin’s name on the display. “Merlin?”
“I might be a little drunk,” says Merlin, voice shaky, “and also, you’re a complete arse. It’s not like I lurk on Craigslist or something, what if I hadn’t seen that?”
“I had a backup plan,” Arthur admits, sitting up and feeling much more awake, the beginnings of happiness starting to spread through him. “It involved asking Elena to ask Percival to somehow put you in the way or seeing the ad. And if that hadn’t worked I was prepared to grovel a bit. You wouldn’t listen to me the other night, and I really wanted to--”
“Could you maybe shut up?” Arthur does so, and a few seconds pass in silence like Merlin is worried he’s going to start talking again. “I feel like an arse saying this, but it’s going to bother me if I don’t ask, and--”
“I don’t like you because the others turned me down,” Arthur says immediately, even though Merlin asked him to shut up. “I would have wanted to kill Lance within a week, he’s far too nice, and Percival doesn’t talk, and Gwaine only ever would have been a bit of a shag and I knew it. You are a much better option. I’m just a bit of an idiot. Ask any of my friends. Elena has been telling me to ask you out for ages.”
“Okay.” Merlin’s voice goes soft. “A bit in love with me?”
Arthur’s face flames. The post had been written with the help of several fingers of brandy. “Well. I realize it’s a bit soon, as we haven’t gone on a date yet unless you count the other night, which I’d rather like to, but I thought you’d appreciate it. Like those girly films you like so much.”
“Amelie is not a girly film. And I’d rather not count the other night as our first date, if it’s all the same to you. I was sort of miserable and then I was a complete git at the end there and I don’t want that to be our first date.”
“So … what would you like to be our first date?”
“Call in sick to work tomorrow,” says Merlin, out of nowhere, and then Arthur can almost hear him blush. “I’m sorry, that was a stupid thing to say. You can’t just call out of work on short notice like this because you want to go on a date, you’re the CEO.”
“Tell me what you were going to suggest.” It’s incredibly irresponsible to be thinking about it at all, but he’s tired and a little giddy and Merlin actually wants to go out on a date with him, and waiting a few days for their schedules to mesh doesn’t exactly feel like an option at this point.
“I don’t know, really. I thought may you could come to my flat, and I could make you lunch or something. I’d like to cook for you. And if we go to Ealdor we wouldn’t have any privacy or if we go to the place with the brunch I’ll be thinking about the date with Gilli, so I really thought my flat might be the best option.”
Merlin’s tripping over his words and normally Arthur would laugh at him for stammering like a schoolgirl, but mostly he’s busy trying to figure out a. if there’s an implied offer of sex in being invited to Merlin’s apartment and b. if all of his meetings for the day can be rescheduled. “I’ll call off work,” he finds himself saying a few seconds later. “I think at this point it would be a bit anticlimactic not to see you tomorrow. Today.”
“I can’t ask you to do that.”
“You aren’t asking. But I’m doing it. I never take time off, and Pendragon can tick along without me for the day. Really, the only danger is Morgana doing a hostile takeover.”
“If you’re willing to take that risk.” Merlin laughs, and Arthur leans back against his headboard, feeling a bit ridiculous but happier than he has in weeks, possibly months. Elena is going to mock him forever.
“You’re worth the risk,” he says, since Merlin’s tipsy and he’s tired and that’s probably the right situation for soppy statements.
There’s silence over the line for a good minute, but it doesn’t sound shocked or unhappy, and Arthur hasn’t got anything to say, so he lets it stretch out. “I don’t want to hang up,” says Merlin at last, and at least they’re on the same page with being soppy.
“I don’t either.”
They eventually fall asleep on the phone, and Arthur wakes up some time around three to the sound of Merlin snoring in his ear and hangs up with a whispered good night that he only says because he’s relatively certain Merlin won’t hear it. Then he sleeps until seven, calls his assistant to inform her that he’s ill and won’t be in, and goes back to sleep until nine.
He wakes up again when Elena calls him. “Sophia says you’re ill. You aren’t ill, Arthur, I talked to you last night and I can tell a week in advance if you’re coming down with something.”
“Merlin and I have a date today,” he says, and doesn’t even bother not sounding shamelessly happy about it.
She pauses. “You are going to tell me this story, later. In great detail. Because the last I heard Merlin had confessed his love for you on the street and you stood there like an idiot while he walked off into the sunset and you were heartbroken and pretending you didn’t like him enough to be heartbroken.”
Arthur winces; Elena always does pick the bluntest way of saying things. “I don’t actually live in a television drama,” he says.
“Of course you don’t.”
“I am hanging up on you now, Ellie. I have a date to get ready for.”
He doesn’t have to be at Merlin’s until noon, but he turns up at the address Merlin texted him this morning at eleven and Merlin opens the door almost immediately. “I thought you would never get here,” he says, and makes an aborted move like he’s going to kiss Arthur before stopping to blush. Arthur can’t have that, so he steps into the doorway and kisses Merlin.
Lunch ends up horribly burned, much to Merlin’s embarrassment, but Arthur doesn’t much care. They’ll have plenty more dates if he has anything to say about it, and judging by the slightly mad grin Merlin is sporting by the time he has to excuse himself (with more kisses and a frantic search for a neckerchief to hide the love bite Arthur gave him), they’re on the same page.
He calls Elena on his walk home and tells her everything as she demands, and when they hang up he knows she’s going to talk to Morgana and probably Gwen and that Gwaine will torture the information out of Merlin at Ealdor and that they’ll never get privacy again as a result, but he’s surprisingly okay with it. He’s more than happy to have afternoons in the park with everyone and dinners at Ealdor with all of Merlin’s friends getting up periodically to take care of customers, as long as he gets Merlin to himself once in a while.
I’m glad the right person read my ad he texts Merlin as he gets to his flat, and thinks that Merlin will probably know what it means.
Arthur has no idea what’s going on. Well, on the surface he does. Gwen and Elena decided that since they were dating men from the same social group that their social groups should meet, and since their boyfriends are apparently pushovers (which makes Arthur just a shameful bit glad that he didn’t get anywhere with either of them), there are anywhere between eight and ten people at the table at any given time (since apparently all of Merlin’s friends work at his restaurant), making awkward conversation that feels like a first date with far too many people.
No, the confusing part is Gwaine. Gwaine is attractive and definitely into men if his smacking Will’s arse and then proceeding to leer at Arthur and Leon (and Morgana and Gwen and Elena, so strictly speaking apparently he’s bisexual, but that’s a step better than Lance or Percival) is any indication. Of course Arthur knew within the first five minutes that Gwaine would be a one-night shag and not a relationship, but that wasn’t really a deterrent and so he flirted, and Gwaine actually flirted back.
Everything was going swimmingly, in fact, until Merlin came out of the back to lean all over Lance’s chair and chat to them while avoiding Arthur’s eyes at every opportunity. Apparently the awkwardness of their past encounters got to him. After he left, though, Gwaine sent a considering look after him, and then clammed up, even going so far as to tell Will that he would take over for Merlin in the kitchen when Arthur kept trying.
“You’re a bit of a twat, but we’ll see what happens,” says Gwaine just before he leaves, punching Arthur’s shoulder and kissing Morgana’s hand on his way. Elena, sitting on his other side, pats his thigh as Merlin emerges with a plate full of rice and vegetables, looking less than pleased at being ejected from his own kitchen.
After a quick look around the table, Merlin takes Freya’s sometimes-seat in between Percival and Lance instead of the one Gwaine vacated next to Arthur, and Arthur is unaccountably stung. It’s not that he’ll languish without Merlin’s attention, but for two gay men to dismiss him in as many minutes is a bit galling. He’s not used to being rejected, until the past few weeks, that is. Anyway, he tells himself firmly, Merlin isn’t his type.
As if she can read his mind, Morgana gives Arthur a dirty look and looks over at Merlin. “The food here is absolutely delicious. I’m surprised I haven’t heard of it before.”
Merlin shrugs, giving her a bashful smile through his lashes. “We’re nothing special. Just the kind of thing you get served in your grandmother’s kitchen, or that’s what my mother told me when she still ran it. But I’m glad you like it.”
Everyone falls over themselves to tell Merlin how delicious dinner was and how lovely the little hole-in-the-wall restaurant is, and Arthur is tempted to join in until he realizes that Will is hovering by the table and cracking up, and that Merlin’s blush is a bit more mortified than pleased. “Mate,” says Will, “it’s like you have superpowers or something. He’s been like this since primary,” he informs the table at large. “Five minutes and he has everyone around wrapped around his finger. Everyone likes him.”
Merlin gives Will a two-fingered salute and answers with his mouth full. “Not everyone likes me, you bastard. Arthur doesn’t like me. Right?” He looks at Arthur for support, sounding remarkably cheerful about it.
Arthur, on the other hand, is a good deal less cheerful, because everyone at the table is looking at him with near-identical looks of disapproval. Including Leon and Elena, who he thought he could count on to be on his side. “I don’t know you well enough to dislike you,” he says when he realizes that some sort of rebuttal is required.
“We’ve talked about compliments, brother dear, and how bad you are at giving them,” says Morgana, looking only just more amused than annoyed, and Arthur realizes how idiotic his last comment sounded.
Not that he’ll admit it. “Well, it’s not like I can tell Merlin that his shoes are lovely and match his dress perfectly, Morgana.”
“Apparently you’re immune to Merlin’s superpowers, Arthur,” says Elena in her This Is Significant tone of voice, and Arthur admits that perhaps he should be nicer and it isn’t precisely Merlin’s fault that he’s always around when Arthur makes a complete tit of himself.
From the red on Merlin’s cheeks and the way he’s staring at his plate, it’s pretty clear that he doesn’t want an apology, or any attention at all, so Arthur decides it’s his duty to change the subject somehow. “Perhaps it’s my superpower to be immune to superpowers.”
“Nah, you’re just a bastard,” says Leon, amiably enough, and grins at him enough that Arthur doesn’t get stung by it.
“Now, that isn’t nice,” Merlin says, and his face lights up with a grin. The power of it makes Arthur blink and wonder if he isn’t being affected by Merlin’s superpowers after all. “Could be he’s just a bit thick and the force of my personality hasn’t made it through his skull yet.” He goes still right after he finishes saying it, like he hadn’t quite meant to say the words out loud, and somehow that manages to break the ice.
They end up staying around for another hour, and the conversation is a lot less stilted than it was earlier in the night. Will, Freya, and even Gwaine stop by every once in a while to tell a story or add to the conversation, and Merlin leaves once in a while to greet a regular or make sure Gwaine isn’t buried in the back. When he returns he usually has a plate of appetizers or a new bottle of wine or something else with him, and Arthur warms to him more than he’d expected.
“Right, you lot, I have to close this place up and you aren’t helping,” says Merlin at last, which seems to be some sort of magical cue for all of his friends to get up and start grabbing supplies from behind the bar to clean the tables.
Arthur sits and fidgets for about ten seconds before deciding that he might as well be useful, and he goes and picks up a cloth with the rest of them and wets it in a bucket once Lancelot has filled it. Elena joins him pretty quickly, helping Percival move the room back into its base configuration after half the customers hauled tables together and apart all evening, and all his other friends get up to help as well, despite Merlin and Lance protesting.
After a few minutes, when everyone is busily engaged in cleaning and Merlin is closing down the bar, Arthur slips into the kitchen, where Gwaine and a few other employees are washing dishes and putting things away. Arthur approaches Gwaine and makes sure to keep his voice low when he speaks. “What the hell was all that about, out there? You lost interest pretty fast.”
Gwaine gives him an unimpressed look. He and Morgana and Elena ought to form a club. “You’ll figure it out eventually, your Highness. Now, as long as you’re back here, you can help us with the pots and pans.”
*
Merlin meets Gilli when he finally gives in after a week of working noon to midnight every day and advertises for a second chef. Gwaine’s good enough as a stop-gap, but he wants someone trained, and Gilli is the first one to interview. Merlin’s first uncharitable thought is I can’t hire him, Gwaine will find some sort of joke about us both having ridiculous ears and chase him off within the first week, but Gilli turns out to be a good chef and great company, if a little angry at the world.
He asks Merlin out during a slow dinner shift after an exhausting game of Frisbee in the park. It’s been almost three weeks since the dinner at Ealdor and Merlin’s shocked at how well his group of friends, rag-tag and barely paying the rent, gets along with their new friends, all of whom are posh and most of whom are higher-ups at Pendragon Corporation. It seems unlikely, but despite some awkwardness they all get along really well, even if it makes the games even more cutthroat than they were before. Merlin had begged out after Morgana hit him right in the gut with a very well-aimed throw and Arthur had fussed at him for a good five minutes before rejoining the game. “So, I know that when you’re not working I am and vice versa,” says Gilli, de-boning a chicken while Merlin wonders if Morgana cracked on of his ribs, “but I was wondering if you’d like to do something sometime. Maybe grab breakfast or a coffee or a movie sometime if Gwaine can take over the kitchen.”
Normally, Merlin has hard and fast rules about not sleeping with anyone who works at his restaurant, having learned the hard way that it only makes things awkward and complicated and that it becomes impossible to actually find time to spend together outside of work. But his infatuation with Arthur still hasn’t gone away and he desperately wants it to, especially with them spending so much more time together lately. His friends all know, of course, and Will won’t stop teasing about it (although Gwaine, for reasons best known to himself, stopped with that after the night they all had dinner. Things are awkward between he and Arthur now, but he brushes off Merlin’s questions whenever he tries to ask), but more worryingly, he thinks Arthur’s friends are starting to suspect. Remembering Gwen’s worried look after Arthur finished making sure Morgana hadn’t ruptured Merlin’s spleen, he smiles at Gilli and picks up a knife to start chopping the onions they’ll need for tonight’s soup. “I’d like that. Maybe brunch, the day after tomorrow? We could meet here, there’s a place a couple streets over that serves great breakfast even during the week.”
Gilli beams at him, and they finish the rest of the prep for dinner in near-silence. Merlin goes home that night grinning and makes a point of not telling any of his friends about the date, because that would just jinx it.
Of course, that also means that he has no warning when, fifteen minutes into his brunch with Gilli (who looks like he might be inching his hand over to hold Merlin’s), Arthur and Leon walk in, arguing about something business-related. He should have known better than to go on a date somewhere Elena and Gwen introduced him to. “Brace yourself,” he says to Gilli, since it’s only fair warning. He hasn’t met the larger group. “I’m afraid our date’s about to be crashed.”
Sure enough, when Arthur and Leon see him, they wave and go to a table right next to Merlin’s, although Leon stops Arthur when he seems likely to just drag chairs over to sit with them. “Good morning, Merlin. Who’s your friend?” Arthur asks.
“This is Gilli, he’s the new chef at Ealdor. Gilli, this is Arthur and Leon, I think I’ve told you a bit about them. Are you two here on a business brunch?”
“Yes,” says Leon, who has clearly picked up that Merlin is on a date and doesn’t really want it interrupted, especially not by the man who he has a huge sodding crush on.
“Nothing that can’t wait a few minutes, though.” Arthur leans around Merlin to wave at Gilli. “You haven’t been around that I’ve seen before.”
Gilli is glaring and Merlin knows he hasn’t got the best opinion of posh people, so he intercepts before they can start arguing. “Like I said, he’s the new chef, so you wouldn’t know him.”
“I imagine we’ll get to know him. If he’s at Ealdor it’s only a matter of time before he joins the group.”
“He sort of is already,” says Merlin, trying not to grind his teeth. It’s not like he doesn’t like Arthur--he actually enjoys his company, when he’s not being a prat, so it isn’t just his hormones making him so damn attracted--but having him along on a date that’s mostly about getting over him is counterproductive. It’s that thought that leads him to blurt “We’re on a date right now, so if you wouldn’t mind …”
“Oh,” says Arthur, and they stare at each other for a few seconds trying to figure out exactly what is supposed to happen next. Merlin certainly can’t think of anything to say to make the situation less awkward. “Of course. We’ll leave you to it,” Arthur adds eventually, in a stiff tone Merlin can’t place, and makes a point of turning around and starting to talk about mergers or investments or something else equally confusing.
Merlin goes back to making first-date conversation with Gilli, but he’s all too aware of Arthur’s presence at his back and feels more trapped than anything by the end. Luckily, Arthur and Leon leave first, apparently for some sort of meeting with the Marketing department (run by Morgana), and Merlin does his best to salvage the date from there. Gilli stops him after barely five minutes. “So, this isn’t going to work.” Merlin stares at him. “If you want to make your ex jealous, that’s fine, but I’d rather not deal with it.”
“What? We never dated. We don’t date.”
“Either way, you’re great, and I’m definitely going to keep working at Ealdor, but you should get things sorted with him instead of going out with me. I’ll see you for the dinner shift tomorrow.” And with that extraordinary announcement, Gilli waves and walks out of the restaurant, slumping the second he’s out the door like he doesn’t realize Merlin can see him through the massive window.
Merlin feels wretchedly guilty, and it isn’t until he’s back in his flat getting ready to call Freya that he finally remembers where he’d heard Arthur sound like that before: after Percival fell hard for Elena in the park.
It takes nearly half an hour to convince himself that Arthur is just being a prat and definitely isn’t interested, for his own sanity.
*
Arthur is not jealous. He is not, no matter the looks his friends give him when he misses games in the park the third time running with an excuse even he will admit is lame. It just so happens that he wants a bit of distance from Merlin and his friends, and the original guesses his friends have for him avoiding the park are certainly reason enough for that.
“Is the thing with Lance bothering you still?” Gwen asks the second he bows out the first time.
“I thought you didn’t mind about Percival,” says Elena anxiously when she hears.
Morgana’s more blunt. “If this is just because Gwaine turned you down, Arthur, one would think you could swallow your pride and make friends.”
Leon stays quiet about it, although he was there when they accidentally crashed Merlin’s date and probably has suspicions of his own. He rolls his eyes at Arthur but doesn’t try to talk him into going.
Elena is the one who voices it the third time Arthur turns down an outing, on a gorgeous Saturday afternoon when he would otherwise never turn the opportunity down, and she at least has the decency to drag him into privacy before starting to harangue him. “This is about Merlin, isn’t it? I don’t know what your problem with him is, other than him seeing you at less than your best. Or … have you finally got yourself sorted where he’s concerned? Because that might explain it too.”
“I have no sorting to do where Merlin is concerned.”
Her eyebrows draw together. “So you didn’t figure it out?”
Arthur sighs. “Figure what out, Ellie?”
She sighs right back at him and he wonders vaguely if it’s that annoying when he does it. “Normally, we all like to let you figure things out for yourself, and I think after the first time most of us sort of guessed that you had and you were freaking out about it, but--”
“I’m not a child,” he feels compelled to point out.
“Arthur. Merlin has--or had, at least--a huge whopping crush on you. Probably since the night you met Lance. And you’ve sort of been stomping all over his heart since. So I figured either you’re avoiding him because you figured that out and wanted to let him down gently instead of systematically working your way through his friends, or you’re avoiding him because you developed a crush in return and you can’t handle it because you think he’s not your type.” Arthur tries to figure out what to say to that. Elena moves from exasperated to pitying in less than a second. “You really hadn’t figured it out.”
“Leon and I accidentally interrupted Merlin while he was on a date,” he says without quite meaning to.
Elena smacks his arm. “And you didn’t tell me? It’s not Merlin’s fault if he doesn’t want to wait around for you to figure out that you’re jealous.”
“I am not jealous.” She just looks at him. “Really, Elena, I’m not. Merlin is skinny, and he has ridiculous ears, and he is too clumsy to go anywhere without a keeper, and--”
“And you’re smiling,” she points out. “My God, you’ve got it bad.”
“You are being ridiculous.”
“Then you won’t mind coming along to the park with us.” Arthur opens to his mouth to object to her shoddy logic if nothing else. “Or I’ll tell Morgana,” she finishes, which really isn’t fair.
Arthur finds himself at the park twenty minutes later, trying hard not to sulk. Everyone’s there, and that includes Merlin--and Gilli. Who is quite chummy with Merlin and the rest of his friends, and sitting off to the side arguing menus with Merlin when they get there. He glares at Arthur when they show up, and Arthur pretends not to see it because of course he isn’t jealous, that’s just Elena putting ideas in his head, and Gilli’s got no right to dislike him, since he left them alone after he twigged it was a date.
To add insult to injury, Gilli excuses himself five minutes after Arthur arrives. “I’ve got first shift in the kitchen tonight,” he explains to the group at large, and gives Arthur another dirty look.
By the time he’s said his goodbyes and gone, all of Arthur’s friends are staring between them with knowing looks that Arthur really does not want to see the results of. Eventually they start actually playing games, though, and Arthur drifts over to Merlin’s blanket, ignoring Elena’s raised eyebrows. “I’m sorry again about the other day,” he offers when Merlin just squints at him.
“It was pretty awkward,” says Merlin, which is half an acknowledgment and half, Arthur hopes, an acceptance of his apology. “Aren’t you going to join the others?”
“I’m here under protest.”
“Yes, I’d noticed you haven’t been around.” Merlin takes a breath and Arthur doesn’t even bother hoping that he isn’t going to mention it, because of course Merlin would. He isn’t the type to let something like that pass. “I sort of feel like that’s my fault. I mean, you get along with the rest of us.”
Arthur gives him a disbelieving look. Gwaine’s still ignoring him more often than not, and he and Will can’t talk for more than five seconds without trading barbs. “I’ve had a busy time of it lately, that’s all.”
Merlin just shrugs. “Sorry to hear that, then. Suppose it must be busy being a CEO.”
“Not as busy as you. I’ve no idea how you have time for any sort of life at all.” Arthur settles down next to Merlin even though he gets a sideways glance for it.
“Well, Gilli helps with that, and Gwaine when he can. Just like you’ve got all the heads of your departments to cover for you.” Merlin nods towards the game. “And I can’t complain, really. It pays the rent, and helps out a lot of my friends as well, on top of which I get to cook for a living.”
“You’ve always wanted to?”
“I was brought up in a kitchen. Apparently my da had a chef’s hat on me before I was a year old. There are pictures. And then after he left my mam kept me around, and my uncle likes cooking too, although he isn’t a chef.”
Arthur keeps him talking about his mother, who’s apparently on a farm in the country somewhere, and his uncle, a psychologist in the city, while the games go on, and after periodic mistrustful looks from Merlin (not to mention everyone else), he finally relaxes and they have a proper conversation, and the whole thing is surprisingly nice.
Elena raises her eyebrows at him when she leaves with Percival, and Arthur leaves when Merlin does, unwilling to undergo the interrogation he’s sure Morgana and Gwen will give him quite yet.
It isn’t until he’s walking in the door to his flat and wondering when he can have a conversation with Merlin again that he realizes Elena was right and he might be in more than a bit of trouble.
*
“So, you and Arthur seemed cozy at the park today,” says Freya when Merlin gets to the restaurant that night. “Has he finally made a move? Or did you?”
“No, no moving, no dating, no anything, seriously. I think that was his way of apologizing for ruining my date with Gilli the other week, that’s all.” She just peers at him, disbelieving but too polite to say anything of the sort. “We just talked about our families and stuff. And I babbled.”
“Sounds like great first date conversation,” she says, and Merlin would send her out onto the floor to take orders but he has no illusions about actually having authority over his employees. They just tend to laugh at him when he tries to order them about. “I don’t know how you can’t see it, Merlin. He was just staring right in your eyes that whole time, like you were the most fascinating thing in the world, and he kept touching you.”
And Merlin was acutely aware of the touching but Arthur is probably just physical with his friends and Freya is starting to look like he’s her favorite character from a soppy film so he has to stop her before she gets her hopes up. “Freya, I am not actually Elizabeth Bennett, you know. And Arthur would make a rubbish Mr. Darcy, what with making eyes at all my friends.”
“He’s just taken a while to come around, that’s all,” she says, smiling brightly. “No one looks at someone else like he was looking at you without wanting to ravish them.”
“I’m not his type.”
“You men and your types.” Freya rarely gets exasperated, but she’s heading in that direction now. “It’s just an excuse not to give it a try.”
“Could you stop getting my hopes up?” Merlin snaps, and goes to find something to chop, since he ought to be working, after all.
The conversation is on his mind, though, as is Arthur, for the next week. They see each other in passing a few times, and Merlin gets a very odd look from Elena when she stops by Ealdor to see Percival one evening, and every time Arthur makes a point of singling him out to talk to him, even though they’re always in groups. Every one of Merlin’s friends (and Gilli, which is absolutely mortifying) asks him somehow if something’s going on, and by the end of the week he’s snapping at them all to shut up every few minutes because he really needs to not think about it. Arthur is attractive, and fun, and actually nice once you get past the bluster, and Merlin is dangerously close to falling for him before they’d even been in a date. It’s only the constant inner litany of “He wanted Lance first, and Percival next, and then Gwaine” that keeps him from doing something truly stupid, like asking the man out.
It all goes to hell the next Sunday, when Merlin’s leaving the kitchen after an early dinner shift and runs smack into Arthur, who looks a bit thrown, and who isn’t trailing Gwen and Elena and Leon and Morgana for once. “Um, hello,” he says, since Arthur’s just staring and one of them has to say something eventually.
“I was just wondering how you are. You never showed up at the park today, and you usually try to make an appearance.”
“I overslept this morning, is all, and then I had things to get ready for my shift. Are you here for dinner?”
“Only if you’re joining me. The rest of them are out for food that you don’t serve here, but I wasn’t in the mood for a large group so I thought I would come and find you.”
His voice is perfectly friendly and polite, but nothing more, and Merlin calls himself an idiot for getting his hopes up yet again before shrugging. “Truth be told, I was just going to go in search of food that I didn’t cook as well. Maybe a kebab, I could murder a kebab.”
“Kebabs it is, then,” says Arthur, inviting himself along, and hovers around by the door while Merlin says goodbye to all his regulars and employees.
The awkwardness dissipates pretty quickly while they argue amiably over what the best kebab stand in the area is and chat about their friends. Lance and Gwen are probably going to start picking out curtains within weeks, never mind they haven’t been dating long enough to do that. Percival and Elena continue to run one another ragged during jogs and games of Frisbee (and probably other things as well, but Merlin and Arthur give each other horrified looks when they realize that and silently agree to never think of it again). Gwaine actually went on two dates with Gwen’s brother and Freya is trying hard to keep her chin up about it. Merlin asks if Leon and Morgana are ever going to admit they’re in a relationship and Arthur chokes on his kebab in shock, which makes Merlin change the subject fast.
With any of his other friends, Merlin would just invite them up to his flat, especially when he’s as tired as he is, but with Arthur he feels the need to be on neutral ground, preferably in public. It’s far too easy to imagine their ramble around Camelot’s streets as a date, and bringing Arthur back to his flat in that context would only end in disaster. Not that Merlin doesn’t have self-control, because he does, unlike some other people he could mention (Gwaine). It’s just that things with Arthur are feeling a bit too natural, like this is normal and Merlin could thread his arm through Arthur’s and put his chin on Arthur’s shoulder and that Arthur would lean into it. That, he decides, is a dangerous line of thought, and he ought to disengage before he makes an idiot of himself. “I think I’m going to make an early night of it,” he says when they get to a place on the street where it would be easy for them to turn in opposite directions to get home. “It was good to see you.”
Arthur’s face actually falls, but he straightens his shoulders and smiles a second later. “We’ll have to do it again sometime. You’re surprisingly good company, you know.”
“Thanks for the vote of confidence.”
“I didn’t mean it like that. I just thought you were shyer at first.” Arthur stops them walking and pulls out his phone. “Here, I want your number. It’s good to talk to you away from both of our entourages and I have every intention of doing it again.”
With Arthur smiling at him in the light of the street light and the way he takes Merlin’s hand and shoves the phone into it, Merlin knows he’s either got to get some distance or go mad. “Look, don’t take this the wrong way, and you can have my number, but maybe we shouldn’t do this too often?”
Arthur’s face shutters, and Merlin feels hellishly guilty. “I find it hard to think of how that could be taken in a good way, Merlin.”
Merlin owes it to him to be honest. This isn’t secondary school and all their friends are friends. This will be horrible, but probably best for everyone in the long run. “I’ve got a huge stupid crush on you, in case you hadn’t noticed,” he mutters, putting his number in as quick as he can, “and things like this are just going to get my hopes up. Give me a while to get over you, yeah?” He hands Arthur his phone. “I’ve got to go.”
“Merlin--”
“Seriously, Arthur, I do not want to have this conversation right now. I’m going home. I’m sure I’ll see you soon.”
Arthur’s still trying to talk to him, but he doesn’t follow when Merlin turns around and walks away, and that’s what’s important.
Two days later, during which time Arthur doesn’t call him and Merlin tries hard not to wallow, Merlin finds himself on Craigslist late at night again, killing his stupid heartbreak with a bottle of cheap wine and the missed connections. He almost misses the headline while he scrolls listlessly, but once he sees it, he can’t click fast enough, hope flaring into life again.
Ealdor again - m4m (Camelot)
You: charming large-eared chef who’s got superpowers that apparently take a while to work on me. Me: complete idiot who’s maybe a bit in love with you and might have fucked things up the other night by not just grabbing you and snogging you when I could. Ask someone for my number? I don’t want to call you till I’m sure you’ve seen this.
-Location: Camelot
-It is NOT okay to contact this poster with services or other commercial interests
*
Arthur’s mobile rings at one thirty on a Wednesday morning, waking him up, and he’s all set to growl at whoever’s on the other line when he sees Merlin’s name on the display. “Merlin?”
“I might be a little drunk,” says Merlin, voice shaky, “and also, you’re a complete arse. It’s not like I lurk on Craigslist or something, what if I hadn’t seen that?”
“I had a backup plan,” Arthur admits, sitting up and feeling much more awake, the beginnings of happiness starting to spread through him. “It involved asking Elena to ask Percival to somehow put you in the way or seeing the ad. And if that hadn’t worked I was prepared to grovel a bit. You wouldn’t listen to me the other night, and I really wanted to--”
“Could you maybe shut up?” Arthur does so, and a few seconds pass in silence like Merlin is worried he’s going to start talking again. “I feel like an arse saying this, but it’s going to bother me if I don’t ask, and--”
“I don’t like you because the others turned me down,” Arthur says immediately, even though Merlin asked him to shut up. “I would have wanted to kill Lance within a week, he’s far too nice, and Percival doesn’t talk, and Gwaine only ever would have been a bit of a shag and I knew it. You are a much better option. I’m just a bit of an idiot. Ask any of my friends. Elena has been telling me to ask you out for ages.”
“Okay.” Merlin’s voice goes soft. “A bit in love with me?”
Arthur’s face flames. The post had been written with the help of several fingers of brandy. “Well. I realize it’s a bit soon, as we haven’t gone on a date yet unless you count the other night, which I’d rather like to, but I thought you’d appreciate it. Like those girly films you like so much.”
“Amelie is not a girly film. And I’d rather not count the other night as our first date, if it’s all the same to you. I was sort of miserable and then I was a complete git at the end there and I don’t want that to be our first date.”
“So … what would you like to be our first date?”
“Call in sick to work tomorrow,” says Merlin, out of nowhere, and then Arthur can almost hear him blush. “I’m sorry, that was a stupid thing to say. You can’t just call out of work on short notice like this because you want to go on a date, you’re the CEO.”
“Tell me what you were going to suggest.” It’s incredibly irresponsible to be thinking about it at all, but he’s tired and a little giddy and Merlin actually wants to go out on a date with him, and waiting a few days for their schedules to mesh doesn’t exactly feel like an option at this point.
“I don’t know, really. I thought may you could come to my flat, and I could make you lunch or something. I’d like to cook for you. And if we go to Ealdor we wouldn’t have any privacy or if we go to the place with the brunch I’ll be thinking about the date with Gilli, so I really thought my flat might be the best option.”
Merlin’s tripping over his words and normally Arthur would laugh at him for stammering like a schoolgirl, but mostly he’s busy trying to figure out a. if there’s an implied offer of sex in being invited to Merlin’s apartment and b. if all of his meetings for the day can be rescheduled. “I’ll call off work,” he finds himself saying a few seconds later. “I think at this point it would be a bit anticlimactic not to see you tomorrow. Today.”
“I can’t ask you to do that.”
“You aren’t asking. But I’m doing it. I never take time off, and Pendragon can tick along without me for the day. Really, the only danger is Morgana doing a hostile takeover.”
“If you’re willing to take that risk.” Merlin laughs, and Arthur leans back against his headboard, feeling a bit ridiculous but happier than he has in weeks, possibly months. Elena is going to mock him forever.
“You’re worth the risk,” he says, since Merlin’s tipsy and he’s tired and that’s probably the right situation for soppy statements.
There’s silence over the line for a good minute, but it doesn’t sound shocked or unhappy, and Arthur hasn’t got anything to say, so he lets it stretch out. “I don’t want to hang up,” says Merlin at last, and at least they’re on the same page with being soppy.
“I don’t either.”
They eventually fall asleep on the phone, and Arthur wakes up some time around three to the sound of Merlin snoring in his ear and hangs up with a whispered good night that he only says because he’s relatively certain Merlin won’t hear it. Then he sleeps until seven, calls his assistant to inform her that he’s ill and won’t be in, and goes back to sleep until nine.
He wakes up again when Elena calls him. “Sophia says you’re ill. You aren’t ill, Arthur, I talked to you last night and I can tell a week in advance if you’re coming down with something.”
“Merlin and I have a date today,” he says, and doesn’t even bother not sounding shamelessly happy about it.
She pauses. “You are going to tell me this story, later. In great detail. Because the last I heard Merlin had confessed his love for you on the street and you stood there like an idiot while he walked off into the sunset and you were heartbroken and pretending you didn’t like him enough to be heartbroken.”
Arthur winces; Elena always does pick the bluntest way of saying things. “I don’t actually live in a television drama,” he says.
“Of course you don’t.”
“I am hanging up on you now, Ellie. I have a date to get ready for.”
He doesn’t have to be at Merlin’s until noon, but he turns up at the address Merlin texted him this morning at eleven and Merlin opens the door almost immediately. “I thought you would never get here,” he says, and makes an aborted move like he’s going to kiss Arthur before stopping to blush. Arthur can’t have that, so he steps into the doorway and kisses Merlin.
Lunch ends up horribly burned, much to Merlin’s embarrassment, but Arthur doesn’t much care. They’ll have plenty more dates if he has anything to say about it, and judging by the slightly mad grin Merlin is sporting by the time he has to excuse himself (with more kisses and a frantic search for a neckerchief to hide the love bite Arthur gave him), they’re on the same page.
He calls Elena on his walk home and tells her everything as she demands, and when they hang up he knows she’s going to talk to Morgana and probably Gwen and that Gwaine will torture the information out of Merlin at Ealdor and that they’ll never get privacy again as a result, but he’s surprisingly okay with it. He’s more than happy to have afternoons in the park with everyone and dinners at Ealdor with all of Merlin’s friends getting up periodically to take care of customers, as long as he gets Merlin to himself once in a while.
I’m glad the right person read my ad he texts Merlin as he gets to his flat, and thinks that Merlin will probably know what it means.
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