Archive of Our Own ^beta

Merlin hated himself just a little bit. Not all the time, but at this moment, standing outside his favorite cafe, he hated himself. He was meant to be meeting up with his best mate, and Arthur, that prick, was nowhere to be found. So Merlin hated himself. Because he was standing outside his favorite cafe, as it was beginning to rain, holding a bouquet of daisies, all to try to impress a man who had forgotten about him. 

Merlin couldn’t bring himself to leave, so he huddled close to the building to hide from the rain and check his phone. No messages. No missed calls. Nothing at all. He opened a new text, typing and deleting fifteen different messages before he settled on one, sending it off with a sigh. 

Merlin: Is everything ok? 

Merlin waited. No answer. He waited another half hour, until it was clear Arthur was definitely not coming, and then he shoved his phone, still with no new messages, into his pocket and walked out into the rain. 

Merlin and Arthur had been best friends since primary school. They’d become friends when a six year old Merlin had tried to punch Arthur in the face for insulting his ears. Arthur had apologized, and then turned around and immediately punched another boy who tried to make fun of Merlin. They’d been inseparable ever since, all the way through school and uni. When they’d graduated, Arthur had said he couldn’t imagine being parted from Merlin, so even though he had family in the same city, his father and his sister Morgana, it was Merlin he’d gone flat hunting with. And now they shared a tiny apartment and a gray kitten they’d named Excalibur, and somewhere along the way, Merlin had fallen in love with his best friend. 

He wasn’t sure when, or even how, because Arthur really was a prat at the best of times, but he knew he couldn’t make it go away. He had tried that. And he’d tried to date other people. He’d tried everything he could think of. Arthur knew he was gay. Arthur himself was bi, but he’d never even seemed to think of Merlin as an option, despite the fact that they’d been living out of each other’s pockets for years. Merlin was getting to the end of his rope with all the pining, though, so he’d decided to make a move. 

Merlin scowled to himself as he made his way down the rainy sidewalk. Trust Arthur to just not show up and make him look like an idiot. Merlin had psyched himself up for weeks to ask him on this date. He’d gotten flowers. He’d worn his nicest casual clothes, and the blue jacket that Arthur had told him brought out his eyes. He’d even asked Arthur’s sister for advice, since she’d been  privy to his pining for nearly a decade now. 

He’d been shocked when Arthur had agreed so easily, but then, Arthur was always surprising him. They’d agreed to meet at the cafe since Arthur would be coming from work, and Merlin had been so nervous he’d nearly thrown up before he left the flat. This was supposed to be the day everything in his life finally fell into place. Instead, he was soaked, depressed, and had endured the judgment of three different florists for no reason because his best friend was an asshole. 

He arrived outside Morgana’s building and waited while she buzzed him up. He took the stairs up to the fifth floor instead of taking the lift because he felt like there was a neon sign emblazoned above his head declaring him to be the world’s most pathetic loser. He shook the excess water off the bouquet, tried to square his shoulders from their despondent slump, and knocked on Morgana’s door.  

“There’s Romeo! How’d it go?” Morgana’s grin faded as she took in the look on Merlin’s face. He shuffled past her, dropping the bouquet of flowers he was holding dejectedly onto the coffee table. 

“Here, do you want some flowers?” he asked as he dropped onto the couch. Morgana produced a vase and some water as she questioned him. 

“Merlin, what on earth happened? I didn’t expect to hear from you until tomorrow. You know, if things went really well,” she smirked slightly. Merlin leaned forward and pressed both hands to his face. 

“It didn’t go at all,” he mumbled into his hands. Morgana squinted at him. 

“What?” 

“It didn’t go. At. all.” he repeated. Morgana gasped. Merlin nodded miserably. 

“He stood me up.” Morgana pulled him into a hug, and Merlin knew he must look terrible for her to be hugging him when he was still dripping with rainwater. 

“Let me get you a towel. And some alcohol,” she said as she released him, standing and hurrying from the room. Merlin leaned backwards into the couch cushions, wondering if he’d find answers written on the ceiling if he looked hard enough. 

Morgana returned a moment later, handing him a towel, a hoodie that he must have left here at some point, and brandishing a bottle of whiskey and two glasses. 

“Do you have anywhere to be tomorrow?” she asked. Merlin shook his head. 

“Me either. Thank god for Fridays. Let’s get you trashed,” she declared, pouring him a drink and then reaching for the TV remote. 

An hour later, they were both past the point of tipsy, had ordered some pizza, and were watching old episodes of Bake Off. When the pizza arrived, Merlin stumbled to the door to get it, and when he returned he saw the flowers again. He stared at them sadly until Morgana reached forward and took the pizza from his hands, pulling him back onto the couch. 

“It’s nice you got him daisies,” she said quietly. Merlin looked at her. 

“Most people don’t know they’re his favorite,” he agreed. Morgana nodded. 

“Our mum used to grow daisies. There would be vases full of them all over the house,” she told him. Merlin nodded. He’d always like daisies. They looked so happy. He groaned again, leaning into a pillow so he could hide his face. 

“Why am I so stupid?” he asked Morgana. She pulled him away from the pillow with a pitying expression on her face. She poured more whiskey into each of their glasses. 

“You’re not stupid, Merlin. In fact you’re much too clever to want anything to do with my idiot of a brother.” She smiled and raised her glass in a toast. Merlin smiled back and downed it in one.

Another hour in, and Merlin was feeling decidedly drunk despite it being just past 9pm. So it took him a moment to realize his phone was ringing, Arthur’s name flashing across the screen. Morgana gaped as he reached for it. 

“Let it ring out,” she told him sternly, even though she was already muting the TV. Merlin frowned.

“I can’t. What if he’s in trouble?” 

“Then he probably deserves it,” she retorted. Merlin ignored her and swiped to answer the call. 

“Hey,” he answered, trying to inject some cheer into his voice. 

“Merlin,” Arthur practically shouted down the phone. 

“I got us a date!” Merlin frowned at his phone. 

“You got us a DATE ?” Merlin was incredulous. 

“They’re French!” Arthur exclaimed, gleeful. 

“They’re French.” Merlin frowned and rubbed his forehead. Morgana tried to grab the phone from him, but he held it out of her reach. 

“Hot and French,” Arthur confirmed smugly. Merlin whacked himself in the forehead and didn’t respond because there was nothing to say to that. 

“Where are you? You should come meet us! I can’t double date alone. I need you here!” Arthur cheered, and Merlin noticed for the first time the background noise that probably meant Arthur was standing outside a club. 

“Where am I? Are you kidding me Arthur?” Merlin couldn’t stop his voice from going a little shrill at the end. 

“Nooo,” Arthur trailed off, his enthusiasm dropping as he noticed the tone of Merlin’s voice. 

“Merlin is everything ok? You sound upset,” he informed him. Merlin had thought he was done feeling rejected for the night, but he felt his stomach drop all over again at the confirmation that there had been no emergency or work problem. Arthur really had just forgotten that he had already had a date for the evening. A date who apparently wasn’t even worth remembering. Merlin’s heart cracked further. 

“I’m fine, Arthur,” he lied. Morgana was miming at him to hang up in the background, but Merlin waved her off. 

“Look, have fun on your date. I’ll see you tomorrow.” Merlin was proud of how steady his voice came out even though he felt like crying. 

“ My date? Tomorrow? Merlin, where are you?” Arthur sounded genuinely concerned now, and Merlin couldn’t fault him. Merlin very rarely stayed out overnight. He sighed deeply, trying to make his voice sound more normal. 

“I had a date,” he answers. Arthur makes a startled, choked off noise, and Merlin hangs up the phone before he can say anything else. He tosses his phone onto the couch. 

“Your boyfriend is the dumbest human in the world,” Morgana declares, pulling Merlin to her like he’s a sad puppy. Merlin lets her. He doesn’t think he could feel more pathetic than he does right now. 

“He’s not my boyfriend,” he argues sadly. 

“Yes he is. He’s just too stupid to know that,” she tells him firmly. 

“He’s going to understand how stupid he is very soon though,” she threatens. Merlin nods and sniffles, trying not to full-on cry. 

“Yep. He’s definitely going to regret losing out on all of this,” he gestures weakly at his crumpled form, and Morgana laughs quietly. 

“I’m willing to bet that he will.” She tells him and unmutes the television. 

The next morning, Merlin wakes up on Morgana’s couch, head pounding and mouth drier than the Sahara. He stumbles to the bathroom and rinses out his mouth, fumbling in the medicine cabinet for some painkillers. He gulps them down with a handful of water from the tap before stumbling back to the couch, cursing Morgana and her whiskey. He’s just begun to fall back to sleep when he hears clattering in the kitchen and Morgana appears. 

“Merlin,” she greets calmly. Merlin squints up at her. 

“Of bloody course you’re fine,” he grumbles, throwing an arm across his eyes to block the light. 

“Don’t be dramatic,” she smacks his arm out of the way and he means to grumble, but then he realizes she’s handing him a cup of tea, so he changes his mind, struggling to sit up and take it without sloshing it all over himself. 

“Drink up, pretty boy. We’re going to brunch,” she declares. Merlin feels his eyes go wide and he wants to argue, but he can see the look on her face. She smiles sunnily at him when he doesn’t argue. 

“I’ll get you a change of clothes. Go shower. It’s almost eleven,” she walks away, and Merlin closes his eyes and sips his tea. A moment later, Morgana’s words catch up to him. 

“Wait--how the hell are you gonna get me clothes?” he calls after her. He gets no response, so he decides to get in the shower and hope that it works out. Morgana doesn’t usually promise things she can’t follow through with. 

Fifteen minutes later, he steps out of the shower smelling like Morgana’s guest shampoo and finds a pile of clean clothes on the counter. Unlike the hoodie she gave him yesterday, he’s never seen these before. The jeans are a little looser than what he normally wears, but they fit well enough. The shirt is a dark blue v-neck with little pineapples printed on it, also a little large, and there are even clean boxers and socks. Weird as it is, Merlin is just grateful for the clean clothes. 

He bundles his dirty clothes under one arm and exits the bathroom, going into the kitchen where he finds Morgana leaning against the counter sipping coffee. 

“Glad to see the clothes fit,” she smirks at him. He raises both eyebrows at her. 

“Yeah, they do. Care to explain?” Morgana doesn’t even look slightly concerned. 

“I have a bunch of spare clothes for situations like this.” 

“What? Who does that?” Merlin cannot contain his confusion.

“I do.”

“Why?” he’s still confused. Morgana rolls her eyes at him and drains the last of her coffee. 

“Because, Merlin. There are numerous people in my life who are dramatic enough to end up here, on my couch, needing a change of clothes because of some stressful nonsense they’ve gotten themselves into. And they are also in denial about the sheer level of their own drama, so I can’t just tell them to leave things here for when they need them.” Merlin is both offended and touched by the declaration. 

“Aww, Morgana, you do care,” he coos at her. She rolls her eyes again, but she accepts his hug willingly. Merlin releases her a minute later. 

“Don’t worry. I won’t tell anyone you’ve got a heart in there,” he reassures her. She slaps him lightly in the cheek. 

“Just because I care about you doesn’t mean I won’t kill you.” Merlin nods, hoping he’s conveying the correct amount of respectful fear with his expression.

“Put your shoes on. We’re leaving.” She sweeps out of the kitchen, and Merlin wipes the fond smile off his face as he follows her out the door.  

Two hours later, Merlin is fully caffeinated and fed, and he is feeling much more like a human being than when he first woke up. Morgana is sitting across from him sipping espresso from a tiny cup. Merlin thinks it’s her fourth one, but he hasn’t been counting too closely. He takes a sip from his own coffee, a cinnamon latte that tastes like Christmas, and tries to keep his mind from drifting back to Arthur. It doesn’t work, and he makes a face. He drags himself back to the moment and sees Morgana looking at him

“Do you have any plans for the day, Merlin?” She asks. He tilts his head at her. 

“No. What plans would I possibly have?” he raises an eyebrow at her. She shrugs. 

“Maybe you had plans with Arthur. You usually do on the weekends,” she informs him. Merlin just stares back at her before looking down into his mug. 

“No. We, uh. I mean—I didn’t plan anything. I thought…depending on how the date went—you know? Merlin can feel himself flushing as he stumbles over his words. Morgana’s steady gaze feels like it’s burning into him and he needs to stop talking. 

“So, uh, no. No plans,” he finishes. She reaches across the table to pat his hand. 

“I figured as much. You should do something today, though. Something fun, just for you. You don’t want to go back to your apartment and mope around with Arthur in the next room, do you?” 

“No. Definitely not,” Merlin shudders at the visual. He imagines returning to the apartment to find Arthur and both of the French guys from the night before sharing breakfast in his kitchen. The thought makes him feel slightly sick and he glances up at Morgana with wide eyes. 

“Fuck, you’re right. I need plans,” he tells her desperately. Morgana tightens her grip on his hand. 

“Breathe, Merlin. It’s fine. Honestly, it is. Just go to a movie or something.” Merlin takes a deep breath and nods to himself. 

“Yeah. Yeah I can do that. I could have plans. People have plans all the time. I’ll just find something to do. How hard could it be?” Morgana smiles in the way he knows means she’s trying not to laugh at him. 

“Honestly, Merlin. Just find something to do today, and if you meet me at my place for dinner, we can go out after. I know how much you love dancing.” Merlin smiles at her, hearing the judgment in her tone. He does love dancing. He’s not very good, but after a couple drinks even he can’t tell that anymore. He nods. 

“Yeah. That sounds good. Thanks, Morgana. Really. You’re the best.”

“I know,” she smiled smugly at him. 

“Wait, what are you doing today?” Merlin asked. 

“I already have plans,” she told him. He stared at her, but she didn’t elaborate. Merlin sighed. He should have known better. 

When they finally left the restaurant, Morgana put her sunglasses on and strolled away. Merlin checked the time. It was early afternoon, and he had hours to kill. There was no one near him on the sidewalk, so he allowed himself one dramatic sigh. Then, he turned in the direction of his favorite book store. He had only gotten three steps when a hand grabbed his wrist. 

“What—” he whirled around in a panic, but it was just Morgana. 

“Be at my apartment by 7. Don’t answer any phone calls from your idiot boyfriend.” Merlin rolled his eyes again. 

“He’s not—” but Morgana had already released him and walked away. Merlin sighed again and turned down the sidewalk. 

His favorite bookstore was small and crowded, bookshelves practically overflowing. There were armchairs in every corner that you could sit and read in, and the owner had a dog that walked around napping on various patrons’ feet. 

It was nearly empty when Merlin arrived, and he headed for the back corner, snagging a random book off a shelf on the way. He curled himself into his favorite armchair, and opened the book, finding it to be a biography of some politician he’d never heard of. He resisted the urge to pull out his phone and stalk Arthur’s social media, instead immersing himself in the early childhood adventures of some parliament member. 

He was starting to actually get invested in the college drama in the book when his phone rang. He fished it out of his pocket, and saw Arthur’s name on the screen. He was about to answer it, when he remembered what Morgana said and hesitated. He turned the volume down in case there were other people in the shop who could hear it, and just kept staring at Arthur’s name until it eventually stopped ringing. He took a deep breath and opened the book back up, but his phone started buzzing again. He let it ring out a second time, feeling guilty as all hell. 

The phone didn’t ring again and Merlin breathed a sigh of relief. Instead it vibrated with an incoming text. And then three more in quick succession. He glanced at the lock screen to see they were all from Arthur. Merlin stared at them for a long moment. Then he very intentionally put the phone back into his pocket without looking at them. He congratulated himself on his victory, and went back to his book, very determinedly not thinking about the unread messages just sitting in his phone. 

He would wait at least an hour before looking at them. He’d show Arthur that he wasn’t always at his beck and call. Even if he totally was, he was going to pretend that he was very busy with important plans. If Arthur could forget about him so easily, then Merlin would pretend he could do the same. 

His resolve lasted a grand total of fifteen minutes. Then he was pulling his phone out of his pocket and desperately clicking into his messages, trying to ignore the anxiety he felt trying to anticipate what Arthur might have written.

Arthur: You didn’t come home last night?!?

Arthur: Did you really have a date?

Arthur: I know you didn’t really have a date. What happened? 

Arthur: Where are you?

Arthur: Merlin, answer your phone and tell me you haven’t been murdered 

Merlin couldn’t help but huff out a laugh. He could hear Arthur’s progression from slightly annoyed to actively worried in the messages. It was just like Arthur to go from zero to sixty in 3 seconds. Murdered, honestly. He stared fondly at the screen, thumbs hovering as he tried to figure out a response. Before he could type a single letter, his phone buzzed with another incoming message. 

Arthur: Merlin if you have been murdered I will kill you. Followed by whoever murdered you

Merlin chuckled and decided not to respond just yet. He should probably put Arthur out of his misery, but there was a small and maybe slightly sick part of his heart that was enjoying Arthur’s concern. After last night, it soothed his broken heart to see proof that Arthur did actually care about him. He put his phone back in his pocket, and then pulled it back out. He took a screenshot and sent it to Morgana. 

Merlin: What should I say?

Her response was immediate. 

Morgana: Let him sweat

Feeling validated, Merlin put the phone back in his pocket and continued reading. He almost managed to forget about Arthur entirely. Another hour later, he made his way to the front of the store, bought the book he’d been reading and stepped outside. He didn’t have a plan for where he was going, but it was nice out, so he decided to just walk around for a bit. He ended up in a nearby park where Arthur had once tried to force him to go running. This time, instead of cursing Arthur’s obsession with cardio, Merlin found himself sitting on a bench and struggling not to feel sorry for himself. 

It wasn’t like Merlin had never been stood up before. That had happened twice. And he had been dumped a couple of times, and all of that had sucked, but this was different. He sighed and slumped forward to put his head in his hands. Arthur was different. He always had been, maybe from the moment he and Merlin had become friends. Merlin had been willing to risk their friendship for a chance at something more, and while it would have been hard if Arthur had said no, it was immeasurably worse that Merlin had gotten his hopes up. Arthur had made him think he felt the same, and then stomped his heart into the ground with no warning. 

“Why am I like this?” Merlin asked in the general direction of his shoes. 

“Why are you like what?” Merlin jumped at the unfamiliar voice. He jerked his head up to see a man standing in front of him and looking at him with concern. He was wearing shorts and a t-shirt, headphones pulled from one ear. He’d clearly been running through the park, and Merlin cursed himself silently because the man was gorgeous. He had brown hair that was pulled back into a bun, some stubble on his handsome face, and while he did look concerned, he was grinning at Merlin, inviting him to share some secret joke. 

“Um,” Merlin fumbled for words as the silence between them stretched. 

“Just…like. Nothing. Just. You know,” he trailed off awkwardly, waving a hand in a way that explained nothing. Instead of running away, the attractive, slightly sweaty man sat on the bench next to him. 

“Gwaine. Nice to meet you,” the man extended his hand. Merlin swallowed a shocked gasp and shook his hand. 

“Merlin,” he responded. Gwaine smiled at him again, and Merlin could feel the tips of his ears turning red. 

“Nice to meet you,” he added, not wanting to seem impolite. Gwaine released his hand and reclined on the bench, angling himself toward Merlin. 

“So, what are you like, Merlin?” he asked. Merlin couldn’t help the small laugh that escaped him. 

“Oh I’m pretty normal. Just sitting here, lamenting my life choices. The usual,” he joked. Gwaine laughed. 

“Ah, I know the feeling,” he replied. Merlin smiled back at him, and suddenly didn’t feel quite so nervous. 

“Although one choice I won’t be lamenting is stopping mid-run to meet you,” Gwaine continued with a flirtatious wink. Merlin couldn’t help it. He laughed out loud. 

“Oh my God. That’s such a shit line. I can’t believe you actually just said that!” Merlin laughed harder. Instead of being offended, Gwaine seemed pleased. 

“A shit line? Please, Merlin. It’s already working,” he declared. Merlin shook his head. 

“I fail to see how it’s working,” he tried to look disbelieving instead of charmed.

“Well, you see, Merlin,” he began, draping an arm around Merlin’s shoulders and leaning in like he was telling a secret, “I know it’s working because you didn’t punch me in the face for hitting on you.” Merlin opened his mouth to respond but Gwaine kept talking. 

“And, you’re looking much happier than you were when I first stopped. I’ll call that a success.” Merlin felt his smile fade slightly at the reminder of his situation with Arthur. Gwaine noticed and removed his arm. 

“Is that reaction to the idea of me flirting with you?” Merlin shook his head. 

“No, no, it’s not that,” he reassured.  

“Boyfriend, then?” Merlin hesitated and Gwaine nodded in understanding. 

“So the boyfriend is the life choice we’re lamenting?” Merlin shrugged before figuring it wouldn’t hurt to tell him. 

“Not even a boyfriend. A best friend,” he started and Gwaine made a sympathetic noise. 

“Straight?” he asked with a grimace. 

“No, he’s interested in men. Just not in me,” he explained. Gwaine patted his shoulder comfortingly. 

“We’ve all been there, mate,” he reassured, “He’ll come to his senses. Unless he’s a pillock, in which case, you obviously deserve better.”  Merlin laughed. 

“He is a pillock,” he agrees. Gwaine grinned at him. 

“That’s the spirit! And uh, just in case he continues to be a pillock, can I get your number?” Merlin is startled to see that Gwaine actually looks a little nervous as he asks. Merlin pulls out his phone, and opens it, handing it to Gwaine to put his number in. 

“Just so we’re clear I’m not—I mean. Arthur is—He’s—” Merlin stutters to a stop as Gwaine hands his phone back. 

“No pressure, Merlin. I don’t wanna ruin anything with your pillock of a boyfriend. But I would like to be friends.” He smiles easily, and Merlin thinks this situation seems impossible. He opens a new message and shoots one off to Gwaine so he’ll have Merlin’s number too. Gwaine looks pleased when it pops up on his own phone and then he gets to his feet. 

“Well, I should finish my run, and I’m sure you have more life choices to lament,” Gwaine says. Merlin laughs. 

“I always do.” 

“It was nice to meet you Merlin. See you around, yeah?” Gwaine does a few quick stretches and then jogs off down the path. Merlin sighs dreamily after him, wondering why his life is so stupid. An absolutely gorgeous, funny, charming man just appeared out of nowhere and wanted to ask Merlin out. And Merlin still couldn’t think about anything but the fact that the attractive man who wanted to ask him out wasn’t Arthur. He put his head back in his hands. 

“Why am I like this?” 

Eventually, Merlin pried himself off the bench, deciding he needed more coffee. On his way to the nearest shop, his phone rang. It was Morgana, so he answered. 

“Hey.”

“Merlin! I’m just checking in on how your plans are going for the day,” she says. Merlin gives her a quick rundown of his day, from the bookstore to meeting Gwaine. He can practically hear her smirk through the phone as she asks what he looks like. 

“I told you, he’s just a new friend. And he knows that too,” Merlin exclaims. There’s a long moment of silence. 

“You should invite him to come out with us tonight,” she says. Merlin raises an eyebrow. 

“Morgana, what are you planning?” She scoffs indignantly. 

“Who, me? I would never. I just want to meet your new friend,” she tells him. Merlin is skeptical, but it doesn’t sound like a bad idea, so he agrees. Morgana practically squeals down the phone and Merlin has to hold it away from his ear. 

“Stop making that noise! Jesus. Look, I’ll meet you at your place, ok? I need coffee.” Morgana hums in agreement and hangs up. Merlin pulls out his phone to invite Gwaine. He doesn’t get an immediate response, but the man had been running last time he’d seen him, so he’s not overly worried about it. 

He heads into the coffee shop, smiling quietly to himself as he realizes he’s actually excited for tonight.  

Merlin leaves the coffee shop a short time later with 2 coffees and a small bag of pastries that he knows Morgana will like. He’s hoping they’ll buy her forgiveness for showing up to her apartment too early. He’s shuffling the cups and bag between his hands so he can knock when the door is yanked open before him. 

Merlin jumps back, fumbling not to drop anything from his hands as Arthur storms out of Morgana’s apartment and directly into him, cursing under his breath. He grabs Merlin by the shoulders to right himself, causing coffee to slosh all over Merlin’s hands and forearms.  

“What the hell—” Arthur starts and then stops abruptly as he realizes who he’s run into. 

“Merlin?” he sounds shocked, hands still on Merlin’s shoulders as he stares at him. 

“Arthur,” Merlin replies, trying to shake himself free of Arthur’s grip so he can do something about the coffee dripping all over him, but Arthur is still just staring at him like he hasn't seen him in weeks. 

“Arthur? Are you ok?” Merlin says it slowly, wondering why Arthur is in such shock. His tone seems to snap Arthur out of his trance and he releases Merlin’s arms, smoothing down the skin like maybe he ruffled something somehow. 

“Yeah, sorry. I, uh, I didn’t see you. I wasn’t expecting—” he looks down for a second and his eyes widen slightly as he catches sight of Merlin’s shirt. 

“Is that—whose shirt is that?” Merlin looks down even as he tries to lick the coffee off his arm. 

“Oh, this?,” Merlin starts, wondering how to explain his outfit without sounding completely pathetic. He doesn’t get anywhere though, because Arthur has noticed something else. 

“Those aren’t your pants, either,” he says and his voice takes on a tone Merlin doesn’t think he’s ever heard before. Arthur looks up and meets Merlin’s eyes, squinting at him suspiciously. 

“Merlin. Whose clothes are you wearing? And why haven’t you been answering your phone?” Merlin freezes again under the look Arthur gives him. His lack of response makes Arthur’s eyes narrow even further. Merlin takes a sip of his coffee and tries to look as innocent as possible. Arthur frowns and takes a deep breath before he speaks again.  

“You didn’t come home last night.” Merlin shakes his head and raises his coffee to his mouth again. Arthur snatches the cup out of his hand before he manages to take a sip. 

“Hey!” Merlin complains, but Arthur holds it out of his reach.  

“You didn’t come home, you’re hungover, and you’re wearing someone else’s clothes.” 

“I’m not hungover,” Merlin protests. Arthur shakes the coffee cup at him. 

“Second coffee in the afternoon. Hangover.” Merlin curses how well Arthur knows him. 

“Ok, I’m hungover. So what?” he backpedals, trying to keep Arthur on the defensive instead of himself. 

“Why are you ignoring me?” Arthur asks, deviating from the hangover line of questioning. His tone is still lighthearted, but Merlin feels his face flush. 

“I’m not,” he argues, but it sounds weak even to his own ears. Arthur takes a step back like Merlin has slapped him, the smile dropping from his face. 

“Oh.” Arthur looks like the world has been knocked out from under him, and Merlin hastens to fix the mess he’s just created. 

“Arthur, no, I wasn’t—” he begins, but he’s cut off by Morgana’s voice drifting through the open door. 

“Merlin, hurry up. We’re going to be late.” Arthur looks back towards Morgana and meets Merlin’s gaze with a frown. 

“Plans?” he asks. Merlin nods shakily. 

“Yes. We’re going out!” Morgana answers him cheerfully, appearing in the door. 

“Coffee? For me? Aren’t you sweet,” she gushes as she reaches out and takes the coffee Merlin is still holding. 

“Now come on, Merlin. Wouldn’t want to keep your new friend waiting,” she winks at him and goes back inside. Arthur stares after her, mouth agape. 

“New friend?” he asks. Merlin nods again, not sure what to say in response. Morgana reappears and answers for him. 

“Yes, he’s lovely. Big fan of pineapple,” she says, grabbing Merlin by the arm to drag him inside. 

“He? Pineapple?” Arthur chokes out as the door is shut in his face. He gets no response. 

On the other side of the door Merlin yanks his arm out of Morgana’s grip. 

“What the hell? A fan of pineapple?” he hisses. Morgana looks meaningfully at his borrowed shirt. Merlin glances down, having forgotten the pineapple pattern. 

“Oh?” he’s still confused. Morgana rolls her eyes and pushes him further into the apartment, snatching the bag of pastries from his grasp. 

“You’re early,” she declares. Merlin frowns. 

“Sorry?” Morgana waves him off. 

“No worries, pretty boy. At least now we’ve accomplished something.” Merlin looks blankly back at her. 

“Oh please, Merlin. Even you couldn’t be that dense.” He continues to stare at her until she relents. 

“My brother is jealous, you idiot.” She gestures at his shirt again. 

“He thinks you stayed out all night and hooked up with someone who owns a pineapple shirt. And he thinks we’re going out to meet him tonight. He’s burning up inside,” she declares smugly. Merlin shakes his head. 

“I think, given the events of last night, that we can safely assume Arthur isn’t jealous.” Merlin tries to sound matter of fact about it, and not like he wishes desperately that Arthur would be jealous over him seeing someone else. 

“And I think, given the interrogation and kicked puppy dog eyes he just gave you in the hallway, that I will beg to differ. He loves you, he’s jealous, and I bet he never eats pineapple again.”  Morgana grins wickedly at him, and Merlin can’t help but smile back. 

“I seriously doubt that,” he argues, but she ignores him. Instead she grabs him again and drags him down the hallway into her room. 

“Don’t whine, Merlin,” she says. “We have to make you look extra hot for Gwaine tonight.” Merlin rolls his eyes. Morgana smacks him lightly on the cheek. 

“Don’t complain, Merlin. This is for your own good. Now, how about some eyeliner?” Merlin sighs dramatically but allows himself to be manhandled into a chair so she can apply makeup to his face. He hasn’t even heard back from Gwaine yet, and he’s not willing to get his hopes up two nights in a row. 

Two hours later, so they wouldn’t be part of the embarrassingly early to the club crowd, Morgana drags Merlin into one of her favorite clubs downtown. She’s looking around but she doesn’t find whoever she's looking for. Instead, she turns to Merlin. 

“Do you see Gwaine?” Merlin squints around, trying to see clearly through the dim lighting and crowds. 

“Not yet,” he tells her. Morgana tsks at him and drags him in the direction of the bar. When they arrive, she flags down the bartender and orders them both a drink. Then she leans on the bar and turns to look at him. 

“You should wear eyeliner more often,” she tells him. Merlin scoffs. 

“I don’t think that’s going to happen,” he tells her. She frowns. 

“I bet Gwaine thinks it’s hot,” she smirks. Merlin scowls at her. 

“You haven’t even met him, how would you know—” he begins, but he stops as someone wraps an arm around his shoulders. 

“It is hot. So hot. 10 out of 10, Merlin. Honestly,” a familiar voice says in his ear. Merlin turns in shock to see that Gwaine has appeared out of the crowd and is hanging off him, grinning at Morgana like they’ve known each other all their lives. 

“No one asked you,” Merlin defends, and Gwaine snorts a laugh. 

“No one needed to. I’m willing to offer compliments unprompted.” He looks Merlin up and down and then winks at him. 

“You look hot. You're completely gorgeous.” Merlin gapes back at him and Morgana positively beams. She stretches a hand out toward him. 

“Morgana, Merlin’s friend and better,” she introduces herself. Merlin rolls his eyes as Gwaine accepts her hand and kisses it. 

“Jesus,” he mutters. Gwaine laughs at him, and Morgana punches his arm. 

“Shut up, Merlin. You invited him,” she taunts. Merlin begrudgingly nods because she is right, after all. Gwaine seems unconcerned, sipping his own drink and bobbing his head casually to the music. 

“You want to dance?” he asks, and Merlin flounders for a moment before he agrees. Forget Arthur. He’s here to have fun, and dancing with Gwaine seems like it will be a lot of fun. He looks at Morgana and she shakes her head. 

“Oh no. You boys have fun.” She takes another sip of her drink and waves them off. Gwaine makes a triumphant noise, downs his drink, and pulls Merlin into the crowd. 

The music is loud and the dance floor is so crowded that they end up practically on top of each other as they dance, pressing into the people all around them. Gwaine is a surprisingly good dancer, and he doesn’t make fun of Merlin for his mediocre dance abilities, so Merlin decides he’s an excellent dance partner. He’s just beginning to get a bit sweaty when the music shifts into something a little bit slower, and Gwaine pulls him in close. Merlin flushes, but Gwaine just grins.

“Don’t worry, Merlin. I haven’t forgotten about the lamentable boyfriend. I just want to dance with you.” Merlin honestly can’t think of a response to that except for his usual denial of his and Arthur’s relationship status. It doesn’t seem to work on Gwaine, who just shakes his head at him. 

“The only people who deny each other that much are people who haven’t figured out that they want each other,” he tells Merlin. Merlin gapes. 

“That’s not true. I know what I want. I’m not the problem,” he argues. Gwaine studies him, surprisingly serious for the atmosphere around them. 

“I believe that, Merlin,” he says, “That just means your boyfriend must really need a wakeup call.” Merlin huffs out a breath. He doesn't know how to get people to believe that he and Arthur aren’t a couple. And he doesn’t know how to get Arthur to view him as a serious romantic possibility. He looks over at the bar where they’ve left Morgana, hoping that seeing her will bring some clarity to his life. 

Instead, it brings more confusion. Because Arthur is now leaning on the bar next to Morgana. He’s holding a glass filled with something blue, and he’s looking directly at Merlin. Merlin tears his gaze away, not wanting to seem like he was looking at Arthur on purpose, though he’s not entirely sure why it would matter. Gwaine catches the movement, and he turns to look, quickly identifying Arthur next to Morgana. He huffs a quiet laugh and pulls Merlin closer as they dance. 

“So, Blondie? That the boyfriend?” he asks. Merlin groans and lets his head drop forward onto Gwaine’s shoulder. 

“He’s not my boyfriend,” he whispers. Gwaine hums in agreement. 

“But you want him to be,” he says conversationally. Merlin makes an affirmative noise. 

“I’ve been in love with him for years. But he doesn’t care about me like that,” he says. Gwaine spins Merlin slightly so he can more easily study Arthur over Merlin’s shoulder. 

“I don’t think that’s true,” he says. Merlin snorts a laugh into Gwaine’s shoulder. 

“Sure,” he says, disbelieving. Gwaine shakes him a little. 

“No really, Merlin. He’s looking at me like he’s trying to kill me with his eyes.”

“He is not.” 

“I swear.” Merlin doesn’t really believe Gwaine, but he can’t keep himself from looking over his shoulder toward the bar. Sure enough, Arthur is staring steadfastly in his direction with a frown on his face. Merlin catches his eye by accident, and Arthur quickly rips his gaze away, turning to talk to Morgana instead.

“God, now he doesn’t even want to look at me,” Merlin mutters. Gwaine laughs again. 

“Please, Merlin. Anyone with eyes could tell he wants to kill me for even thinking of dancing with you. Maybe he doesn’t know that, but he is not happy that you’re dancing with anyone but him.” Gwaine tells him. Merlin looks over at Arthur and then back to Gwaine.

“You think?” 

“I’d bet my life on it,” Gwaine reassures. Merlin looks at him in astonishment. Gwaine just looks pointedly back at the bar, where Arthur downs his drink, looks at Merlin one more time, says something to Morgana, and disappears quickly into the crowd. Gwaine chuckles in delight. 

“My God, this is the most drama I’ve ever been a part of in real life,” he says. Merlin looks at him. 

“Are you often involved in drama outside of real life?” he asks. Gwaine shrugs. 

“I was on a soap opera for a while in college. That was some crazy shit.” Merlin laughs. Gwaine looks pleased, and Merlin decides that even though Arthur doesn’t like him, it’s nice that he met Gwaine. He just knows Gwaine is going to end up being a great friend. Over at the bar, Morgana is looking incredibly smug, so Merlin elects to ignore her, concentrating instead on being in the moment instead of worrying about other things. 

The music picks up again quickly, and Merlin leaves Gwaine on the dance floor to head to the bar. He gets two waters, and then drags Morgana back out to dance with him and Gwaine. He pointedly doesn’t think about Arthur, and he is grateful that Morgana and Gwaine let the subject drop. Instead they dance and laugh and have a good time, and Merlin is having a much better time than he had expected. He’s also more drunk than he had planned to be, because Morgana keeps buying him drinks. 

“Come on, Merlin,” she teases, “Everyone knows tequila mends a broken heart.” Gwaine snorts out a laugh. 

“Don’t listen to her, Merlin. Only some good Irish whisky can fix that. She’s just trying to get you drunk,” he directs a playful scowl at Morgana. Morgana flips him off, still seemingly in control of all her faculties, even though she and Merlin have now had the same amount to drink. 

“I have nothing to gain from an inebriated Merlin,” she denies. And then she pushes Merlin forward so he stumbles into Gwaine. Gwaine catches him around the middle so they don’t both tumble to the floor, and Merlin feels his face flush in embarrassment. 

“But I won’t deny that he is pretty when he’s had a few too many,” she adds. Gwaine laughs as Merlin huffs indignantly and tries to right himself, using Gwaine’s shoulders as a crutch. 

“You’re evil,” he hisses at her. Morgana just smiles at him. 

“You love me.” Merlin can’t find it in himself to argue, so he flips her off instead.

Several hours and several pints of water later, Merlin has sobered up a bit and is about ready to head home. He’s tired and it’s been a very long day, and he just wants to sleep in his own bed. He’s leaning against the bar sipping on his water and watching Gwaine and Morgana on the dance floor. They have yet to seem inebriated in the slightest even though they both drank more than Merlin did. He’s not sure how that’s possible, but he would be willing to believe there was some sort of magic involved. He starts making his way toward them so he can tell them he’s ready to leave.  It’s been a good night. Gwaine is a lot of fun, and Merlin hasn’t danced so much in ages, but he desperately wants to go home and be less hungover tomorrow than he was today. 

Halfway to where Gwaine and Morgana are dancing, he is stopped in his tracks by a hand on his arm. He is pulled backward through the crowd several feet before he manages to stop the momentum and turn to see who’s grabbed him. There are a great many harsh words and phrases on the tip of Merlin’s tongue, but they all vanish as he turns and realizes he’s looking into Arthur’s blue eyes. He stares at him for longer than is really acceptable, but Merlin is quickly realizing he’s a little more tipsy than he had thought. Finally, he manages to gather his thoughts. 

“What the hell, Arthur?” he shoves Arthur’s hand off his arm. Arthur frowns at him. 

“You’re drunk, Merlin. We need to get home so you can sleep this off.” Arthur’s calm and patronizing tone does nothing but make Merlin angrier. 

“ We don’t need to do anything. I’m not that drunk. I’ve had plenty of water, and I haven’t had anything alcoholic in a few hours now,” he growls. Arthur looks at him in disbelief, so Merlin continues. 

“And even if I was smashed off my face, I don’t see how that’s any of your concern,” Merlin glares. Arthur looks briefly stricken and then his face hardens as he looks at something over Merlin’s shoulder.

“Of course it’s my concern, you daft idiot. You already went and got completely hammered last night. You don’t need that two nights in a row. Besides, you don’t act like yourself when you drink too much.” He crosses his arms over his chest. Merlin rolls his eyes. 

“What the hell does that mean? I don’t act like myself?” he demands. Arthur freezes momentarily, but then stubbornly decides to keep going. 

“Staying out all night. Not answering your phone. Hanging around with…strangers,” he waves his hands for emphasis. 

“Morgana’s not a stranger,” Merlin scoffs. Arthur glares at him. 

“And I’m supposed to believe you spent the night with Morgana? Tell me Merlin, when did you turn straight? Besides, Morgana hates pineapple,” he adds in an accusatory tone. Merlin glares even harder back at Arthur. 

“Who cares if Morgana likes pineapple or not?!” he demands, growing increasingly frustrated with Arthur’s strange accusations and utterly fed up with Arthur treating him like he’s a child who’s done something wrong. 

“Maybe I had plans last night. Maybe my life doesn’t actually revolve around you! Maybe I had something better to do than go on a stupid double date with some random guy you met in some shitty club!” Merlin finishes in a huff, slightly out of breath. He can feel his ears burning red, and people around them are starting to look at them strangely. He doesn’t care. He just glares back into Arthur’s shocked face. 

“You—” Arthur chokes slightly and has to gulp in a few hurried breaths before he can continue. 

“You actually had a date last night.” It’s not a question. He’s looking at Merlin like he’s never seen him before. He looks like he might be sick, and he continues in a small, hurt voice that Merlin has only heard once or twice before when Arthur is truly upset. 

“You weren’t joking, were you? You actually—you…I can’t believe you couldn’t at least tell me to my face,” he finishes in a small voice. Merlin feels his own anger dissipate at the hurt look on Arthur’s face before he remembers who exactly he had a date with. 

“I shouldn’t have had to tell you,” he bites back. Arthur’s face contorts strangely for a moment before he responds. 

“I always want to know what’s going on in your life, Merlin. Even if you don’t want me in it, ” he says quietly.

“What?” Merlin pulls a confused face. Arthur makes a pained expression and pulls Merlin further out of the crowded area of the club into a quieter corner. 

“Morgana told me earlier. She said you met someone. And it was,” he gulps and looks away from Merlin’s face, taking a harsh breath before he continues.

“She said it was serious, but you didn’t know how to tell me. I thought she was just messing with me, but she wasn't, was she? He’s the one you were dancing with. The guy with the long hair? You looked…happy. With him. How long have you been seeing him?” Merlin cannot for the life of him follow Arthur’s logic. 

“Gwaine? What the hell does Gwaine have to do with this, Arthur? Yes, we were dancing, and yes, he has long hair. I fail to see how that is relevant.” Arthur lets out a slightly hysterical chuckle and turns his back on Merlin. He has both hands covering his face, and he runs his hands roughly through his own hair, making it into a complete mess, before he turns back around. Merlin is startled to see that he looks like he’s about to cry. 

“You fail to see how Gwaine is relevant?” Arthur asks in a slightly strangled tone. Merlin just gapes at him. He feels like they are having two completely different conversations. 

“From where I’m standing, Merlin, he’s the only thing that is relevant.” Merlin scoffs, feeling himself getting angry again. 

“Oh please. So I made a friend who isn’t you. It’s not the end of the world, Arthur. I’m allowed to have friends and to dance with them if I want to. And you’re not my mum and I don’t have a curfew, so if I want to stay out all night with my friends, then I bloody well can.” Arthur opens his mouth, but Merlin keeps talking. He’s not done being annoyed yet. 

“And yes, Gwaine is a friend. And he is bloody gorgeous. So if I want to spend time with him or date him, I will. And it’s none of your business if I do or not. And I don’t have to tell you about it if I don’t want to. Stop acting so fucking jealous. You’re not my boyfriend, Arthur. Jesus. Morgana was right. You really are the dumbest person alive.” He finishes his tirade, expecting Arthur to feed off his anger and start yelling back. Instead, Arthur looks like Merlin just slapped him across the face. He looks tired and sad and hurt, and Merlin cannot understand why, but he feels guilty for having caused it. He doesn’t know if he should apologize, and Arthur just keeps staring at him with that expression, like somehow Merlin has crushed him beyond the point of repair, and Merlin still can’t figure out how that’s possible. Finally, Arthur looks away and takes a deep shuddering breath. Merlin watches him pull himself back together, hiding his emotions until his face is carefully calm and polite. It’s the formal mask that he uses when he is deeply uncomfortable, and Merlin has never seen it directed at himself before. 

“You’re right, Merlin. I apologize. Obviously your love life is none of my business. As you so correctly pointed out, I am not your boyfriend. I didn’t realize it made me “the dumbest person alive” to be shocked that less than a week before our first date, you are dating other people and spending the night with them. Just because you asked me out on a date, doesn't mean I have the right to be jealous of you and Gwaine. It’s not your fault you asked out your roommate only to find someone you actually like a day later,” he paused and Merlin couldn’t breathe.

“I apologize for the sarcasm. It’s impolite, but I find myself unable to speak candidly without crying. I understand that it would be hard to tell me about Gwaine given, well. Given my obvious feelings. It would be lying to say I am happy for you, Merlin. I selfishly want to be the only person who could ever make you happy, but I understand that you’ve had a change of heart. And I’ll do my best not to interfere in your relationship with Gwaine. No matter how much I wish—” he cut himself off, apparently unable to speak any more. Merlin was appalled to see tears in Arthur’s eyes, but he pulled himself together enough to say a few final words. 

“Forget it. I trust that Morgana and Gwaine will see you safely home. You’ll understand if I don’t stick around to say goodnight after this. I’ll see you at home, sometime. Good night, Merlin.” And with that, he turned and quickly made his way to the exit of the club, leaving Merlin standing behind him, jaw practically on the floor as he tried to process what Arthur had just said to him. After only a few moments, he realized that Arthur was actually leaving. And Arthur was actually heartbroken. Over him. It was the easiest decision in the world to follow him as quickly as he could. 

He whipped out his phone and texted Morgana that he’d left to find Arthur. He scanned the sidewalk outside for Arthur as he left the club but he saw nothing. He tried to call him, but the call went straight to voicemail. Merlin was starting to panic when he realized that the only place Arthur would be was at their flat. He hailed a cab and practically shouted their address at the driver. He had to find Arthur now. Nothing had ever seemed so urgent in his life. 

When he finally arrived, he nearly forgot to pay the driver in his haste. He took the stairs two at a time and barreled through the door to the flat like he was being chased. Arthur startled to his feet from his position on the couch. He hadn’t changed his clothes. He hadn’t even taken his shoes off. There was a bottle of whiskey in front of him on the coffee table, and a single glass that was half-filled with amber liquid. He was staring at Merlin, and Merlin stared back, neither of them saying anything for a long time. 

Eventually, Arthur broke the staring contest and sank back down onto the couch. He raised the glass and took a large gulp, grimacing as he swallowed it back. Merlin approached him slowly and took it from his hand, placing it back on the table. Arthur followed the movements with confusion, still not looking at Merlin’s face. 

“What are you doing here?” he asked. Merlin tried to smile at him. 

“I live here.” Arthur huffed out a pained laugh. 

“I mean, why aren’t you with Gwaine?” 

“I just met Gwaine this afternoon.” Arthur’s head jerked up. 

“Then where—” 

“I told you. I was at Morgana’s last night,” Merlin rolls his eyes at Arthur’s dumbfounded expression. 

“But the clothes?” 

“Borrowed them from Morgana’s secret stash,” Merlin explains. Arthur looks confused at that but he doesn’t question it. 

“Then why were you ignoring me all day?” he asks, so quiet it’s nearly a whisper. Merlin squares his shoulders and explains. 

“Because you stood me up last night,” he says. Arthur frowns at him. 

“I didn’t.” 

“You did,” Merlin argues. 

“I didn’t. You said ‘next Friday at 7,’” Arthur argues back. Merlin opens his mouth, but Arthur keeps going. 

"I've been in love with you for years, you absolute tosser. You've been driving me crazy, always dating shitty guys who don't appreciate you. You think I'd finally get a chance with you and I'd fuck it up by not showing up?" Arthur has risen to his feet, looking outraged at the very idea. Merlin crowds him back toward the couch, feeling a little riled up himself.

“I said ‘Friday at 7,' you massive pillock. You left me standing in the rain with a bouquet of daisies, and then you called me from the club to tell me you scored a date with some French dude!” Merlin is yelling again, and Arthur is looking both confused and hopeful, but he is still unwilling to lose the argument.

“Two French dudes, Merlin. It was supposed to be a double date! Us and them, because I didn't want to wait a week to go on a date with you, you insufferable idiot,” he disagrees loudly, and then he pauses, breathing heavily. 

“You got me daisies?” There’s a tiny smile in the corner of his mouth and Merlin can’t help but smile back at him. 

“Of course I got you daisies, you utter cabbagehead. They’re your favorite,” he explains. Arthur's smile widens. 

“You didn’t have a date with someone else last night.” Merlin rolls his eyes at him. 

“No.” 

"You were waiting for me with my favorite flowers." Merlin just glares at him. 

“And you didn't sleep with that long-haired pillock?” Merlin actually laughs at that one. 

“I only met Gwaine today. He asked me out. I turned him down because I’m in love with the biggest prat I’ve ever met.” 

“You’re in love with me,” It’s not a question, but Merlin doesn’t think he’ll ever be over the look of wonder on Arthur’s face as he says it. 

“Dumbest. Person. Alive,” he tells Arthur as he pulls him in for a kiss.  

“I might be dumb, but you love me,” Arthur mutters. Merlin rolls his eyes and heaves a put upon sigh.

“I guess I do,” he concedes. Arthur doesn’t respond, opting instead to reel him back in for another kiss.