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Ironically enough, Arthur was inadvertently the reason the introduction.
Merlin called him an ass, Arthur called him stupid, Merlin called him a prat. Admittedly, Arthur was glossing over some details that may or may not have been significant to his and Merlin’s first meeting (and fight). Guinevere, Morgana’s friend had stepped in and taken Merlin’s side. The two of them had then proceeded to happily bond over what an (alleged) prat Arthur was. At the time, Arthur had rolled his eyes and carried on, assuming Merlin would end up being one of Morgana’s friends.
Arthur’s and Morgana’s friends were separate groups that never mingled. Each sibling protected this boundary with teenage zeal and aggression. It was the last year of high school anyway, so it hardly mattered.
What he hadn’t expected was for Merlin, Gwen and himself ending up with practically the same class schedule. As if that wasn’t enough, Merlin destroyed the careful dynamic between all of them with sheer disregard and obliviousness.
It started with a fateful assignment given by their teacher, Mrs Collins, who seemed to think partnering the binary gender together would end in a Twilight-esque romance. Honestly, who could bother to think about anything other than the greatly dreaded, impending A levels? Arthur certainly didn’t.
For the first hour the two of them butted heads, purely out of spite. When they finally accepted that the assignment wasn’t going to do itself, a tentative alliance formed. Before they knew it, they’d established a rapport of joking insults and friendly shoves, their earlier animosity forgotten.
By extension, Arthur and Gwen befriended each other. Arthur would never admit it, but before Merlin socialised him, he had mostly hung out with rugby mates whom he just about tolerated.
Gwen was an amazing friend to have. She was sweet, kind, and adorable. It took some coaxing to get her opinions, which Arthur soon realised were quite valuable and enlightening. She and Merlin had remarkable instincts when it came to character. Once he’d matured, Arthur would wonder what they saw in him back then. He could admit he’d been a horrid, bratty kid.
Gwen was a magician with a library card. She helped him study with her impressive lists of reference books. Merlin and Arthur had grudging started to visit the library once they realised how much easier it made their coursework.
Well, maybe not easier but certainly better.
Arthur returned the favour by solving her commuting problem, waking up an hour earlier to offer her a ride. Morgana was with them too, of course. The three of them formed their own dynamic with Arthur leaving the two to themselves for the most part. Shockingly, Morgana began to soften up towards him. The barbed comments persisted but they were fewer and less intense.
By the time their finals arrived, the Gwen, Merlin and Arthur were a tight knit group, much to Morgana’s consternation. It would have been perfect, all well and good. Except, Mrs. Collins had been right. Not about Twilight or assignments or even the occasional generic life advice. Teenagers did have time for things other than A levels.
It was innocent enough the first time it happened. But it happened again, and again, and at least once a week. Merlin and Gwen would play with each other’s hair. The stroke of hair here, a massage there, and once, some braiding of some sort. Arthur would bet Gwen also tested her hair cutting skills him.
It had been awkward for Arthur at first. It seemed like an intimate moment between friends, like he was intruding even though they were in a room full of people. Then he heard the whispers.
Most people assumed they were dating. Arthur rolled his eyes at that. Some of them had whispered mean things about them, crudely discussing Gwen’s appearance, or Merlin’s alleged sexuality, or their economic status. Arthur glared fiercely at anyone who dared, challenging them.
Where earlier he gave Merlin and Gwen their space, he stood protectively next to them as if his mere presence could chase the words and any ill-intents away. Like a knight. Or a dragon.
Preoccupied as he was, it was understandable that he didn’t recognise it earlier. The swooping in his stomach, the increased heartbeats, the fidgety habits. It took him longer still to figure out most of it was directed towards Merlin.
Bloody hell, I’m yearning for Merlin.
By the time that had sunk in, exams buried it.
Graduation arrived. There was fear, sorrow, happiness, confusion and everything in between jumbled up in a mass of emotions. Discussions of gap years, universities, courses, applications, jobs, loans, travels, relocations took up the most of the conversation around.
The goodbyes with promises and threats to keep in touch were a mixture sincere and performative, as one could expect. The ones exchanged between Gwen and Merlin definitely fell in the former category. If Arthur had more courage, he would have joined them. He settled for a punch in the arm and a see you around for Merlin, and a hug so short and light, it barely counted for Gwen.
The scant months between his first semester of university and all the way till the coursework began to crush him in earnest were spent with a deep feeling of loss. Arthur couldn’t describe it as anything further than deep and achy.
He missed Merlin, Gwen, and Morgana fiercely. The depts of it frightened him. Mixed with the general anxiety for the future, and stress from the present, Arthur had quite the cocktail for himself.
With the help of distance, coursework, and a growing surety that he would never see Merlin or Gwen again, he carefully moved on.
In the end it was Morgana who brought them together again.
Arthur was sure his presence was Gwen’s request. Morgana would never voluntarily invite him along anywhere, no matter how well they got on these days. He studiously kept Merlin away from his thoughts.
They met at a café. It was awkward at first, small talk about the happenings of each other’s lives. Gwen was dealing in architecture (focusing on accessibility and sustainability), Morgana was in political journalism, Arthur was making his way through managerial accounting, Merlin was in event management.
Gwen had just finished recounting the time Merlin was on team for the inauguration of one of Gwen’s small projects. It had been pure luck that she had even gone, stepping in for her manager who had other obligations. It had prompted her reaching out to Morgana, and by extension, Arthur.
“We’d never have met if it weren’t for the inauguration,” said Gwen, teasingly nudging Merlin.
“Of course we would have,” Merlin replied with a grin. “One of us would have cracked and texted or something.”
“That’s how Gwen and I kept in touch,” said Morgana, much to Arthur’s surprise. She smiled warmly at Gwen. “Finding time to actually meet is a bitch though.”
“What about you, Arthur?” Merlin asked. “Speaking to anyone from school?”
“No.” He took a sip of his drink to sooth his dry throat. “A few from uni but no one else.”
“You’ll have to forgive my brother,” said Morgana in an annoying, patronising tone. “He’s a bit of an old man when it comes to technology.
Arthur scoffed, mostly a reflex. “I can text perfectly well.”
“He never uses the wi-fi.”
“I do too, when I need help with navigation.” Arthur crossed his arms. He didn’t trust the map app either, but it helped when there was no one around to ask. He had his reasons for staying away from social media, thank you very much.
“I had better get your number, then,” Merlin said. He pulled out his phone and shoved it before Arthur.
Arthur cleared his throat awkwardly as he typed his number in. The flip flops he though his stomach had abandoned came back with force.
He had dated in uni, of course. Gone through the whole sexuality crises and finally accepted that be was interest in more than one gender. Not all his relationships necessarily fell in either the romantic or platonic category. To say it was a confusing period was a massive understatement. He’d felt butterflies then too. None like the ones Merlin provoked. He’d assumed their intensity stemmed from teenage hormones.
Yet here he was again, the swoops and churns spreading through his entire torso, as enthusiastic as ever.
He returned the phone, taking the liberty of saving the contact with his full name. Merlin snorted for some unknown reason before his thumbs flew about the screen. A buzz in Arthur’s pocket signified that Merlin had likely sent him a text.
Arthur decided to save the number later. It had nothing to do with being nervous about having Merlin’s number.
“Now you have no excuse,” Merlin teased.
“I happen to be a busy person, Merlin.” They fell into their back and forth easily.
“Arthur, dear,” Gwen said sweetly. The dangerous kind of sweet. “Surely you aren’t too busy for old friends?”
“I promise I’ll find time for you.” He smiled at her winningly.
Merlin kicked his shin. “Oi. I’m right here.”
Arthur raised his eyebrow. “I can see that.”
“Much as I hate to interrupt this, Gwen and I have plans,” said Morgana, gathering her purse and things. “I’ve been waiting for this too long to let it pass.”
“We’ll leave you two to catch up.” Gwen stood, straightening her skirt. “It was nice to see you again, Arthur.” She gave him a quick hug. The hug Merlin received was longer, with more warmth. Arthur felt a pang of envy which he shoved away firmly.
Silence reigned for a bit as the two left. Arthur knew from experience that the odd thrumming in his body would recede if broke the silence. It was difficult though, and he wasn’t entirely sure he wanted to.
Merlin drained the last of his drink. “Want to head out? I’ve been meaning to rent some movies for a while now.”
The thought of refusing didn’t even cross his mind.
They ended up at Merlin’s place watching the DVDs, and just like that Merlin was back in his life.
Friday night movies soon became a thing for Gwen, Morgana, Merlin, and Arthur. Not every week, of course. They had other obligations too–social, familial, work related. It was simply the most frequent event on Arthur’s calendar.
It didn’t happen very often, but it was there—Gwen and Merlin’s head massages. The yearning in Arthur increased to ridiculous amounts. He couldn’t exactly skip Fridays without a good reason, and frankly he didn’t want to. He enjoyed them too much to let some silly resurgent crush get in the way.
It seemed like in hindsight, his teenage yearning was more for intimacy than Merlin. Now it was equal. He wanted the intimacy and he wanted it with Merlin.
He stared at Merlin’s free hand sometimes. When Gwen lay her head on Merlin’s shoulder, or when Merlin lay his head on Gwen’s lap. Arthur could so easily join, sitting on the other side of Merlin, or on the floor close to him.
Merlin had two hands, yes, but neither of them were meant for Arthur. So he stayed away.
As seemed to be the generic theme of Arthur’s life, it was once again Morgana’s fault. She left on a business trip for a week. The passion in her eyes as she prepared for it would either be a very good thing or a very bad thing for her target…er, subject. Either way, Arthur sent a small prayer to any hapless person who may get entangled in it.
It was that very weekend that Gwen happened to have a date, if the amount of suggestive and winky emojis from the group chat was anything to go by. Had he checked his text before he’d settled on Merlin’s couch, Arthur would have come up with some excuse too. It would certainly explain Merlin’s surprised look when he’d answered the door.
He held this phone sheepishly once Merlin returned with refreshments.
“Just read the group chats now. Didn’t realised movie night was essentially cancelled.”
Merlin squinted. “It is?”
Arthur raised an eyebrow as he accepted the glass of juice. “Morgana’s away, Gwen has a commitment.”
Merlin shrugged. “You’re here,” he stated. “Choose a movie. Nothing too loud.”
Arthur wondered whether he ought to make his excuses or if it would be rude. He didn’t usually overthink like this. Those damned butterflies. The thought of being alone with Merlin was both exciting and terrifying.
“I could go if you’d rather have a quiet night in,” he offered.
Merlin stared at him pensively. “I would rather a quite night with some company. Can we skip the movie tonight?”
The butterflies danced. Arthur took a sip of his drink. “Sure. What do you want to do?”
Merlin exhaled heavily. “I could kill for a head massage right now. I’ve had a pounding head since afternoon.”
Arthur could hardly believe it. This was it, the moment he had yearned for since his boyhood. He froze. “Bad day at work?” he asked, pretending to survey the DVDs.
Merlin huffed. “Let’s just say, these clients were the most indecisive, unreasonable ever. I mean, most people come with the vaguest ideas of what they want, and they usually change their mind a dozen times. But these guys.” He groaned in frustration. “It must take some real effort to be so insufferable.”
He launched into details of how the clients refused to work with anything he presented and blamed their, frankly ridiculous, choices on Merlin’s lack of skills.
The two of them headed to the kitchen at some point and made some sandwiches, where the conversation naturally flowed to Arthur’s work.
Arthur wasn’t sure what to say. His usual response was that it was often tedious and boring to outsiders. He managed to dig up some stories, and found to his surprise that they felt good to share. At any rate Merlin didn’t look bored out of his mind.
He also found himself making mental notes to catch up with office gossip and happenings if only to relay them to Merlin.
By the time they settled to actually watch a movie, it was too late. They would barely finish half before Arthur would have to leave.
Being with Merlin made him feel so light and content, Arthur didn’t want to leave.
“How’s your headache?” he asked, wanting to fill the lull they’d fallen into. Neither of them were paying attention to the movie. The volume was turned down so low it may as well be muted.
Merlin rotated his head and rubbed his neck gently. “A bit better, I suppose. Not gone yet, unfortunately.”
Arthur stopped breathing. Here it was again. “I could give you a little—” he made a gesture with his hands—“if you want,” he blurted out. He panicked slightly. “I mean, it’s probably not going to be that great or anything—”
“Yes,” Merlin cut him off. “Please. I would do anything for one right now.” He offered puppy dog eyes, which were unnecessary. Arthur was had hood, line, and sinker.
“Come here,” Arthur mumbled, gesturing to himself. Merlin sat sideways, one leg up, with his back to Arthur.
Arthur turned his body as well. He didn’t dwell on the pang of disappointment of facing his back too long. He was grateful Merlin was not touching him and couldn’t see his face. He flexed his fingers a bit before gently touching Merlin’s hair. The butterflies in his stomach were firing cannon balls at each other.
His touch started soft before gradually getting firmer, always gentle. Merlin’s hair was, well, hair. It wasn’t soft as a cat’s fur or anything but it wasn’t too rough either. He worked on the tensed muscles around the neck and base of his head, slowly moving upwards. He used both hands, rhythmically soothing lines and rubbing circles.
Merlin’s shoulders dropped, relaxed. He swayed back slightly. Arthur gently encouraged him to lean on his shoulder. He adjusted them so he was resting against the couch with Merlin practically between the v of his legs. This felt more intimate that anything he had seen between Gwen and Merlin. He was heady with it.
He worked on the crown of his head, the temples, and the forehead, occasionally dipping down to the base and up again.
Arthur too relaxed, losing himself in the movements. The butterflies calmed down. His chest was filled with a content warmth, like custard on a cold night. He ensured his breaths were even as he was sure Merlin could feel the air with every exhale.
Merlin’s hair began to let out natural grease. The scent of natural oil drifted to him. Arthur didn’t mind it, oddly enough. Had it been anyone else, he supposed he would have, but this was Merlin. It seemed he was to be the exception to every rule Arthur ever lived by.
Judging by the deep breath and the heaviness of his body, Merlin had fallen asleep. Arthur continued his ministrations, even though the tip of his fingers began to numb with the rub of hair. He didn’t want Merlin to tense up again. He didn’t want it to end.
A voice at the back of his head warned him not to get attached to this. It would make the yearning much worse. He wouldn’t be able to bear to watch Merlin and Gwen, not when his hands had felt, explored, learned.
Arthur closed his eyes tightly and pushed the voice away. If he had only this one chance, he was bloody well going to make the most of it. His well intended plan to leave in sometime were dashed as he fell asleep, one arm around Merlin’s collar, holding him to his chest, and the other still in his hair.
It was dark.
Arthur’s lower back was numb and he just knew if he moved, the crick in his neck would make itself known.
Merlin had moved sometime during the night. He rested on Arthur sideways, head tucked in his neck, one arm squashed between them, and the other resting on Arthur’s thigh. Arthur’s own hands loosely circles Merlin hips.
As much as he didn’t want to, he worked his barely functional brain cells and nudged Merlin.
Merlin grumbled in his sleep. “W’azzit?”
“Bed.”
Merlin’s eyes finally opened. He blinked. “Yeah.” He stood shakily, grabbing Arthur’s hand to help him up. Keeping his hand on him, Merlin stumbled with an equally sleepy and stiff Arthur.
It seemed entirely natural for them to fall onto the bed together. Neither of them could bother to remember why that wasn’t necessarily the best idea. Arthur threw his leg over Merlin’s as Merlin adjusted the pillow for them to share.
Arthur hardly though how much better his neck was feeling when he conked out.
When he finally woke up, it was slow and lazy. The comforting weight against him almost made him hum in contentment. He shifted without thought, his hand carding through Merlin’s hair. A soft sigh swept across his neck in response.
It was a peaceful moment. It had been a while since either of them had woken up with such gentleness.
It came to an end when the protest of various body parts compelled them to move.
When nerves began to creep on Arthur, a small sleepy, unguarded smile from Merlin chased them away.
They moved about silently, using the loo and completing their morning routine with minimal words. Merlin dug out some clothes for Arthur who was grateful for a chance to get out of his hopelessly creased work clothes.
By the time they reached the kitchen for breakfast, the peaceful silence was replaced by light chatter. Neither of them mentioned the previous night.
After breakfast, they checked their phones. Gwen and Morgana had sort of taken over the group, discussing Gwen’s date.
“I’m surprised we slept through all this,” Merlin said, startling Arthur as he surreptitiously checked his work email
“Sorry?”
Merlin waved his phone. Have you not checked the group yet?”
Arthur exited his email and opened the app, staring at the little 186 near their Movie night group. He didn’t bother opening it. “I suppose we missed last night’s real entertainment.”
“Too bad I switched my phone off.” Merlin scrolled through the chat and snorted. “Our absence was noted.” More scrolling, a gasp. “Morgana is trying to steal my best friend.” Eyes widened in disbelief. “Gwen’s willing!”
Arthur sipped his second cup of tea, amused. “Quick, slip on your armour and fight for Gwen.”
Merlin finally glanced up from his phone. “Knights are thick. I’d be a dragon.”
Arthur raised an eyebrow. “ ‘s that so? So Gwen is a princess and Morgana is her fair rescuer?”
“Morgana is the wicked witch.”
“I suppose there’s a wizard of Oz somewhere here. Uncle Gaius?”
“Or Kilgharrah,” Merlin muttered darkly.
Arthur rolled his eyes. “Someday, you’ll accept he’s just a cat.”
“Someday,” Merlin mimicked, “you’ll eat your words when the city is one fire because of him.”
Arthur sighed. Kilgharrah was his father’s cat—old, grumpy, with the usual hissing and staring into your soul bits. He and Merlin had an…odd relationship, to put it lightly.
“You’ll be the knight, of course,” Merlin said with twinkling eyes.
“I don’t want anything to do with your absurd universe, Merlin. Wait, didn’t you say knights are thick?”
Merlin grinned. “I did, yes.” He ducked as Arthur threw a cushion at him.
Merlin when to shower soon, leaving Arthur to realise he had nothing to do. He tidied up here and there without being invasive. He briefly considered starting up his work laptop before tossing the thought. It was Saturday.
He ended up reading the texts. Gwen’s date appeared to be successful. She’d given quite a few details and it took a bit for Arthur to realise it was because she was hopeful for a stable relationship. He also rather belatedly realised that last night hadn’t been the first date. He blinked, wondering how he could have missed that.
He snorted when he reached the texts send by Morgana at four in the morning, cursing having to be awake while the rest of the gang had their weekend sleep-in. The last few texts were from Merlin, replying to the occasional text. Arthur’s breath’s breath hitched as he read his repose to the friend-stealing bit.
I’ll find a new best friend. Arthur happens to have magical hands. The best I’ve known.
Arthur knew it was in jest. It had to be. All the same, Merlin had said that. About him. He grinned.
“What’s got you so cheerful?” Merlin entered, freshly showered, hair dripping water onto his shirt.
Arthur strategically ignored him. “Don’t you own a towel?”
Merlin glared. He shook his head like a dog, spraying Arthur with water.
“Merlin!” Arthur held his hand up to cover his face.
“Prat.”
“Idiot.”
“Dumbass.”
“Nincompoop.”
“Dollophead.”
“That’s still not a real thing.”
“It’s what your contact name says.” Merlin shrugged.
“What?” Arthur blurted out in surprise. He distinctly remembered saving his number with his proper name.
Merlin ignored him. He snatched Arthur’s phone and checked it. He stared in disbelief. “You’ve saved me by my full name? How many Merlins do you know?”
“I save everyone’s number with the full name.”
“You’re joking,” he deadpanned. “Gods, you really have saved th—Guinevere?!”
“Want me to change it to poo-bear?” Arthur asked sarcastically.
Merlin held the phone out. “Change mine right now.”
“To poo-bear?” Arthur asked, genuinely confused.
“Of course not! But if that’s what it takes to change it, then fine.”
Arthur stared at the screen for a bit, his mind blank. “I could remove your last name.”
Merlin pinched the bridge of his nose and muttered to himself. “I see I have my work cut out for me. Baby steps, Merlin, baby steps. Okay,” he clapped his hands with a forced smile, “that’s a good start.”
“I don’t suppose you’d be willing to give me your email, then?”
Merlin stared. “Which alternate dimension spat you out?” He muttered despairingly at himself before he realised Arthur was pulling his leg. He kicked him in the shin, resulting in a tussle which ended with Arthur giving him a noogie.
“Get off me, you arse,” Merlin exclaimed with laughter.
Arthur let go, keeping an arm slung around his shoulders. “As your best friend replacement, I protest to all these insults. I’ve never heard you call Gwen an arse.”
“I only want you for your hands,” Merlin retorted.
Arthur ruffled his hair. “Proposing to me already, Merlin?” He smirked.
Merlin eyes widened in horror. “That’s would definitely end up in the Kilgharrah-burnt-city prophecy.”
“You’re mad as a hatter.”
That is how they ended up watching Alice in wonderland, arguing over which one was the best.
This time, Arthur lay his head on Merlin’s lap as Merlin fingers worked their magic. Arthur could see the appeal. It was soothing and relaxing, draining out tension he didn’t even realise he had.
He resolutely ignored Merlin’s amused, “You’re like an adorable kitten.” He did not curl up and he did not arch his head and he most certainly did not demand for more.
He couldn’t wait for next movie night. Merlin did have two hands, one for Gwen and one for him. Arthur supposed he would have to use one of his own to feed Merlin snacks, lest he get grumpy. A sacrifice he would have to endure.
Honestly, had he know how good it would be, he would have long since kidnapped Merlin to be his personal masseuse or something.
By the time Arthur finally headed home, he had sneakily extracted a promise for further head pats from him. And Merlin’s contact proudly and affectionately read Idiot.