So, uhhh...

I had the idea for this story and after I write I came up with an slightly different way it could have happened which turned into a story of its own and suddenly I had all these various ideas and it seemed a bit ridiculous to put them as separate stories so I decided to put them as a series of unconnected events. Each exists in it's own little universe unless stated, but that probably won't happen.

This first one, the idea of a 'FAT Night' comes from a relatively newish Australian drama series called Wonderland. So the makers of that show own the whole 'FAT Night' concept. I don't own that any more than I do Merlin or those characters.

PS. This chapter includes minor(ish) spoilers for Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire, read at your own risk.


It was Arthur's turn for FAT Night.

FAT Night (or Food Appreciation Time) was a sacred and integral part of the week.

It was the one night were they would all, emergencies and outstanding occurrences excluded (there did happen to be a lot of those so times when everyone was there were actually quite rare), gather in one apartment and have dinner together. Of course it wasn't that simple. There were rules.

Rule 1: Turn Em' Off. Pretty much what it means and very simple. All phones are to be turned off and placed together and are not to be touched for any reason until the owner is leaving.

Rule2: No Cheating. Also pretty simple. Store bought=you're busted. If it's your night to cook then it has to be from scratch.

Rule 3: Imagination. Not always followed to the extremes, but that's okay. As long as there's a little bit of individual creativity in what you make, then everything's fine. Just try not to go overboard (Gwaine).

And finally;

Rule 4: Voting. The Stomach Rules. Vote with how good the food was, nothing else. (Although that rule tended to be bent sometimes.)

And tonight it was Arthur's turn.

This round was pasta; specifically, lasagne. Morgana, who had gone first, had made a vegetarian one which had ended up being mostly cheese. Gwaine had created a steak, potato and beer monstrosity that had been absolutely devoured. Leon had made an old family recipe and Merlin, bless his soul, had made a very weird desert lasagne.

Unfortunately Rule 2 meant that Arthur had to make his pasta from scratch. He had gone around to Gwen's several days ago to borrow her pasta roller and Arthur was sure the damned thing was evil. So far he had made three batches of pasta, the first he had thrown away after taking it out of the fridge (Arthur didn't even want to try and figure out why it was blue), there had been no point in even trying to roll it out, and the second had been so dry it had crumbled in his hands as he tried to roll it out.

This third lot seemed to be going okay but Arthur was moments away from using the ready made, dried sheets he had discovered in the back of the pantry.

It was just the pasta he needed to do. The béchamel sauce and mince was ready and waiting the cheese was grated and the oven was half-way heated.

One excruciating hour later Arthur slid the tray into the oven and slid to the floor, lightly hitting his head against the counter. The next person to suggest pasta for FAT Night was going to be decked, he decided.

Sighing he looked down at himself, he hadn't been this covered in food since the time he and Merlin had been snowed into their flat and had decided to bake cookies. Arthur smiled at the memory.

It had been the middle of winter and they had been snowed in. Arthur, who normally had to be dragged out of bed by Merlin, had woken up with Merlin in his arms as they lay in a cocoon of blankets. Alarmed, he had tumbled to the floor, taking the blankets with him, in his haste to get up. Merlin had yelped before tumbling after him and they had ended up in a very confused heap on the floor until Merlin had managed to explain that, after waking up and discovering their situation, he had phoned into both their jobs before crawling back into bed. After a lazy breakfast of maple syrup spiked coffee and waffles they had rearranged the furniture in the main room of their flat and built a fort of sheets and blankets. By the time they had gotten hungry again they were halfway into a Harry Potter marathon (Cedric was minutes away from dying) and it was dark outside. Once Goblet of Fire had ended Arthur had set about making a stack of cheese and salami toasties while Merlin rooted around in the fridge and pantry, eventually dumping an arm load of flour, eggs, butter, sugar, vanilla extract and chocolate chips on the counter.

Merlin had grinned at Arthur, who had answered by shoving half a sandwich in Merlin's mouth. Once the stack of sandwiches had been finished they started on the cookies. Later they would both insist that the other had started it; but it had ended with four trays of deformed cookies, a dozen smashed eggs, one bag of exploded flour, the flat smelling as if the Marshmallow man had exploded in it and Arthur lazily licking a sugar and butter mixture off Merlin's collar bones (Merlin had already kissed the streaks of melted chocolate off Arthur's jaw) as they sat on the equally as dirty kitchen floor waiting for the cookies to bake.

That had been a good day (and night and a bit more of a day).

Arthur really wished Merlin was with him right now.

Merlin knew how to make pasta, more than that but if Merlin were with him Arthur could have dumped the rest of the flour on him and then they could have taken a shower together. Yes, Arthur thought, that would have been nice. There wasn't anything Arthur liked more than a wet, naked Merlin. Unless there was chocolate involved.

Slightly more cheerful in his day dream, Arthur only just noticed the knocking at the door. Assuming it was just Merlin back from wherever he had gone after running out the door that morning, Arthur didn't bother getting up.

"It's open, you idiot," he yelled, sneezing from the flour tickling his nose. "I was thinking, Merlin. We should have just enough time before anyone arrives, and I did just create one amazing lasagne, so how about I throw the rest of this flour all over you and we go and recreate what happened that day we were snowed in and made cookies. I think we still have some off that chocolate flavoured lu…"

There was a strangled sort of snort and a muffled laugh and Arthur suddenly realised that instead of Merlin's clumsy footsteps (and possible thump of him falling over/walking into something), the door had opened to a pair of neat clicking, like heels on the wooden floor…

Face draining off blood, Arthur slowly got to his knees and tentatively poked his head up to look over the counter. "Morgana?" he squeaked noticing his sister, the owner of the muffled laugh. "Hunith!" his voice rose several more octaves as he saw his boyfriend's mum.

Hunith had an almost entertained smile on her face, more so because of Arthur's mortification rather than because of what he had been saying. But Morgana just grinned and stopped bothering to hide her amusement. "Oh, don't stop on our account, brother dear," her eyes were gleaming with laughter.

With a pitiful whimper Arthur sank back down to the filthy kitchen floor, drawing his legs to his chest and wrapping his arms around his knees.

Morgana cackled like the witch she is. Hunith giggled. Arthur buried his face in his knees and moaned.

There was more clacking and then Arthur felt a hand on his shoulder. Arthur raised his head just enough to see Hunith crouching down in front of him, a small smile on her face. "Everything alright, dear?" she asked.

Arthur scowled and began muttering about Merlin and evil pasta rollers and witches and…

Hunith nodded along before standing up and glancing over the mess that was Arthur and Merlin's kitchen.

"Up you get, Arthur," Hunith said.

Arthur stood up, his scowl now more a pout, because when Hunith used her 'mum voice' you did as she said, no questions asked. Only this time Hunith's mum voice was laced with something that screamed 'oh you poor dear, let me mother you to death'. No one could resist being mothered by Hunith.

Arthur let Hunith lead him from the kitchen and into the bathroom.

"Shower," she says, giving him a small nudge before turning away to rifle through his clothes.

Arthur showers all the while wishing Merlin were there too. Wrapped in only a towel and still dripping a bit he found that Hunith had laid out a set of clothes for him. Plain black pants and a bright red button down shirt that he may or may not have nicked from Merlin years ago which means its that little bit too small for Arthur but he really doesn't care.

Emerging from his and Merlin's bedroom Arthur finds that Gwaine and Percy, Freya and Lance and Gwen had turned up and had made themselves at home.

"Arthur," Gwen squeals upon seeing him. Jumping up from where she was sitting with Lance she pulled him into a giant hug. Arthur smiles, hugging her back and taking a deep breath of Gwen-ness. Not in a weird way or anything, because Lance and Gwen love each other very much and Arthur really couldn't survive without Merlin and in any case Gwen is like his sister, its just that Gwen is a baker and always smells like cookies and cupcakes and all things delicious.

By the time the lasagne is finished in the oven Uther, Elyan and Leon have turned up, the former with two bottles of something, and only Merlin, to Arthur's eternal despondency, is still to arrive. Putting the large lasagne tray in the centre of the table it is joined by the salad Arthur managed to throw together in between despairing over the pasta and some cheesy-garlic-herb-bread.

The front door opens with a small crash as Uther poured out some wine, and Arthur shakes his head as Merlin stumbles into the room.

"Sorry I'm late," he says, grabbing Arthur's face and giving him chaste kiss. Arthur almost whines audibly as Merlin pulls away to wrangle himself out of his coat but doesn't because everyone else is there and he's already made a complete fool of himself in front of Hunith and Morgana and he really isn't up for giving a repeat performance.

Dinner, as it always is, is a lively affair. Hunith and Uther spend a majority of it talking quietly about whatever it is that they talk about. Ygraine and Balinore, Arthur assumes, considering the same looks of love and longing on the 'parents' of their weird little group.

Ygraine, Uther, Balinore and Hunith had all been close friends in university so Morgana, Arthur and Merlin had grown up together. They had meet Lance, Leon, Elyan and Gwen in primary school while Gwaine, Percy and Freya had joined their oddball group in high school. While most still had parents alive, they weren't as close as Morgana, Arthur and Merlin were to theirs and, because it was just who Uther and Hunith were, they had sort of adopted their children's friends. Mostly it included giving advice (Uther) and mothering/somewhat obsessively feeding (Hunith).

Leon, who had been out of town for a week, kept an arm around Morgana, content to listen to his friends and hold his wife close. Gwaine and Freya got into another of their arguments over which Doctor was the best (Gwaine was all for David Tennant, the hair he argued, while Freya insisted upon Peter Davison, she had grown up watching reruns of classic Who) and, as he always did, Elyan pitched in with his opinion that Doctor Who was completely ridiculous and that Sherlock was better. That turned into a debate of which show was the best, Leon jumping to the Doctor Who side while Lance and Percy went to Sherlock's defence.

Thankfully, Arthur's lasagne went off quite well and soon they were all stuffed with pasta and wine.

It was nice, Arthur thought as they migrated from around the table, dishes soaking in the sink for later. It had been a long time since they had all been able to get together.

Gracious as ever they surrendered the two arm chairs to Hunith and Uther. Leon spread out on the loveseat, Morgana sitting in between his legs and half laying on his chest, his arms around her waist. Gwen, Freya and Gwaine had commandeered the two beanbags, while Elyan, Percy and Lance had dragged over three chairs from the dining table. Arthur was sitting on the floor, legs stretched out and Merlin's head on his shoulder.

Arthur tilted his head back, absently stroking Merlin's hair as he listened in to Elyan telling Percy and Lance all about the case he had been working on for the last couple months, the case that was the reason for him missing at least half of the FAT Nights lately. A seemingly simple custody case of a sixteen year old girl whose mother had died had turned into a very confusing case filled with grandparents who were alive, a father who actually did care, blackmail and drugs. In the end Sophia, the girl, had ended up being emancipated but willing to live with her dad.

The more he thought about it the odder it was that everyone was there. Uther and Hunith only really came when specifically invited, Leon should have been over the pond for at least another couple days and if Arthur remembered correctly and Gwaine and Percy, he could have sworn, should have still been in Wales checking out the new bar they were thinking of buying.

Huh. Oh well, just enjoy it, Arthur told himself. Which really wasn't as simple as it seemed considering just who Arthur was. Arthur had an almost inability to let things go, he had to know what was going on, why things were happening. It tended to be a very good thing for his job, he was a DI at Scotland Yard (Lance worked there too, he was Arthur's partner. Gwen too, she worked as a forensic tech), but for everything else it was maddening, both for Arthur and everyone around him.

"Father," he asked, twisting his head around to look at the elder man. "Weren't you supposed to have that dinner with the board tonight?" Uther owned Pendragon Lawyers, Elyan was to be his prodigy and heir for the company (originally that was to be Arthur, but when he showed an obvious disinterest in anything lawyery and Elyan had decided he wanted to be a lawyer, Uther had taken his son's friend under his wing).

Uther gave him a look that Arthur couldn't read. "Am I not allowed to have dinner with my children and family?" he asked.

"Well, yes… of course you… I just mean…" Arthur stammered out, flushing slightly as everyone looked on curiously. He broke off with a pout when he realised that his father was messing with him.

"It was rescheduled," Uther said simply.

"Don't you…" Arthur began. Uther owned the company, which meant that he, and sometimes his assistant, scheduled those things… which meant that Uther had rescheduled it. And Leon…

"Leon, how come you're back early. Morgana was complaining that by the time you got back she would already be on a plane to Italy." Morgana had her own fashion line and spent half her time in London and the other half hopping from Italy to Paris to New York and a few places in between.

Leon gave a small shrug. "Got done early and figured I'd surprise Morgs."

Morgana gave a pleased smile and pressed a kiss to Leon's cheek before snuggling deeper into his arms.

"Right," Arthur said, unconvinced and more than a little suspicious.

"What about you two, then?" he asked Percy and Gwaine. "What happened to Wales?"

"Going next week," Percy said convincingly.

Or at least it would have been convincing if Gwaine hadn't, at the exact same time, said. "Decided against it," before glancing at Merlin.

There was an uncomfortable silence before, "Oh hell."

"Merlin?" Arthur asked, his hand stilling in Merlin's hair.

"I asked them to come, Arthur." Merlin said, turning to look up at Arthur.

"Okay," Arthur said slowly. "But that doesn't explain why they couldn't just say that."

"He didn't tell us why either," Gwaine pitched in, shutting up when Freya kicked his leg and Gwen swatted at his arm.

Merlin mumbled something.

"What was that?" Arthur asked.

"I said, no time like the present," Merlin repeated, no longer leaning on Arthur but sitting up on his knees. "And I asked them to come because I thought our whole family should be here to see this."

Arthur chanced a glance up at everyone else, who seemed just as clueless as he did. "See what?"

The beginnings of a flush rose up Merlin's neck. "Me making an idiot of myself," he said decidedly.

"You're already an idiot, Merlin. What the hell is going on?"

"I… well," not that he seemed to have to do whatever it was he was doing Merlin was a lot less confident. He shuffled a bit forward so he was directly in front of Arthur and took a deep breath. "wiloumarme?"

Arthur frowned in confusion, out of the corner of his eye he saw Hunith and Morgana wearing identical smiles. Uther had a small smile on his face, one Arthur equated to when something reminded him of Ygraine.

"What?" Arthur said, attempting to translate Merlin-speak into common English.

"Iloarme?"

"Merlin," he said, shaking his head slightly. "What the hell are you trying to say?"

A small noise emanated from Merlin's throat and he abandoned speaking to reach into a pocket. "Oh Gods," he whispered before shoving his free hand into his other pocket. "Oh gods, ohgods, ohgods… where did I put it? I can't believe I lost the damned thing… ohgods… I only went to the bloody jewellers today… you idiot Merlin… can't even do this right…"

Freya and Gwen both gasped while both Morgana and Hunith started laughing. When Arthur looked up he was grateful to see that Leon, Gwaine, Lance, Percy and Elyan, at least, were as clueless as he was.

Arthur had no clue what was going on but he did know his boyfriend. "Is it your coat?" he asked.

Merlin's head shot up from where he was rummaging fruitlessly in his pockets. Once again he grabbed Arthur's face in his hands and planted a kiss on his lips before springing to his feet. "I knew I was going to ask you to marry me for a reason," he said with a blinding smile before disappearing from the room.

Arthur blinked.

Around him Gwen and Freya joined Hunith and Morgana in their hysterical laughing while the all the guys looked stunned.

"Oh, FUCK!" Merlin's voice yelled from outside the room, he had evidently realised what he had said. A moment later he re-entered the room looking more than a little sheepish and threw a small box at Arthur's chest before burying his face in his hands.

On pure reflex Arthur caught the box looking up from it in confusion to Merlin, his gorgeous Merlin who is standing in the middle of the room facing Arthur with his face hidden in his hands. Arthur could tell that Merlin's pale skin had turned a bright red beneath his hands and gods if that doesn't make him look adorable. Of course, to Arthur, Merlin always looks adorable. Whether it's when he's splayed out beneath Arthur looking utterly wrecked, chest heaving and cheeks flushed or when he's dressed in one of the £500 plus suits that Morgana has bought and insisted he wear (which really, it shouldn't be able for anyone to look adorable in but Merlin happens to manage it anyway, and hell does it drive Arthur crazy that he does). Merlin even manages to look adorable when he's staring into Arthur's eyes through hooded lids, his mouth red and swollen, lips wrapped around Arthur with his tongue teasing the sl…

ask you to marry me… Arthur thought in a very delayed way.

Oh. OH.

Arthur, with slightly shaking hands, opened the box. Inside it sat two silver bands, one slightly larger than the other. Rings.

"Merlin," Arthur said, unable to keep the smile off his face as he stood up. "That has got to be one of the most pathetic proposals in the history of… of forever."

"That's not a no, is it?" Merlin asked, his voice muffled by his hands.

Arthur grinned as he placed the larger ring on his finger before reaching out to tug Merlin's hands away from his face. Arthur had been completely right, Merlin's face was a brilliant red. He shook his head in amusement, sliding the smaller ring onto Merlin's finger.

Merlin eyes flickered between Arthur's hand, his own hand and Arthur's face.

"Soooo, really…" he asked tentatively. "Us, yes?"

"Yes, Merlin," Arthur said, contemplating whether or not he should be worried about how rapidly Merlin's face was paling when suddenly Merlin's body was colliding with his and he was stumbling back from the force of having a full grown man, even one as skinny and light as Merlin, thrown at him.

"Idiot," he murmured, his lips and words mostly lost in Merlin's hair.

"Your idiot," he got back feeling Merlin's lips moving against his neck.

Arthur laughed, hugging Merlin closer as their family laughed at the absurdity that was his boyfrie… fiancé. Maybe pasta for FAT Night wasn't such a bad thing after all, he had certainly won this round.


Hope you enjoyed it.

If you have any suggestions or request I would be happy to comply an attempt to do them justice. I'll post more when I think of them/finish the ones I've got going.

-Nita