Originally written for another fandom and for another pairing (though the initial spark of inspiration has always been Merthur, just did not have enough of an idea at the time to go with it, hence a different pairing), I decided to tweak it a little and…well, here it is. My first Merlin/ Arthur fic.
Reviews are greatly appreciated.
Merlin does not belong me. If it did, Lancelot would not have been killed even once.
No true love there can be without
Its dread penalty—jealousy.
Owen Meredith (Lord Lytton)
Merlin knew he would be negotiating something the moment he wheeled his bike into his flat. Arthur was sitting at the kitchen counter, directly facing the door, reading the newspaper laid out flat on the kitchen counter. He appeared not to have heard Merlin come into the house, but Merlin knew better. And he knew that whatever the negotiations were, he had already lost it. Arthur was wearing a red cable-knit jumper, Merlin's favourite one actually. And was shoeless, his toes curling and uncurling as his feet rested on the rung of the high stool he was perched on. Arthur had come for battle fully armoured. Merlin might as well yield right then; he had never won any arguments with Arthur whenever jumpers and bare toes were involved. Merlin hated such moments of weaknesses, but Arthur did look extremely alluring wearing in his jumpers. And his littlest toe sort of bent inwards…
Focus, Merlin. Focus, damn it.
Merlin leaned his bike on the hallway, making as much noise as possible to make Arthur look up from the newspaper he was reading. He was getting rather offended that the world news was getting more attention from Arthur than him.
Arthur was slow to look up, but when he did, Merlin could not help smiling, despite the trepidation regarding whatever Arthur has to say to him. And there was also the matter of Merlin's heart giving a lurch (of the pleasant variety) because after nearly five years together (this was their third year of living together), Merlin still could could not believe how gorgeous the man he has listed as his emergency contact, introduced to his friends as his boyfriend and told his Mum that he was going to spend the rest of his life with is.
"We're out of food," Arthur's voice cut into Merlin's reverie.
Merlin, pulling fingerless gloves off his hand, winced when he heard Arthur. It was his turn to get the food. He promised Arthur he would last night. Arthur had wanted to, but Merlin, knowing how busy Arthur was at the law office at the moment had said it would be no problem. "I forgot. I'm sorry." He was slightly behind of a commission from an art gallery in Edinburgh. And there was his teaching job at the Art faculty at the uni. It was deadline week and between the assignments he was collecting and dealing with the variety of his students have come up with, grocery shopping was completely forgotten.
"I suppose we can have cereal with orange juice for dinner." Arthur had turned back to the newspaper and though it was the wrong thing to think, Merlin thought a sulking Arthur was most endearing. Not to mention many levels of hot as well. Arthur too must have just returned from work; droplets of water clinging to the tendrils of hair at the back of his neck suggested that he had just showered and thus had only made the discovery of the lack of food in their flat.
"As opposed to the alternative of…?" Merlin said, knowing that he was risking the not-quite-angry-sulking turning to real sulking (consequences of which would involve a long night, or two, or more, on the sofa). But he just could not help it. He hoped he was not grinning stupidly or anything; he was actually enjoying this.
"Nice, warm shepherd's pie, a pint from the tap and an apple cobbler for pudding," Arthur said, looking at Merlin. He no longer looked as if he was going to sulk. He was trying to entice Merlin to agree with him to go out for dinner. Merlin was about to say yes, until it dawned to him where Arthur had decided they would be having said shepherd's pie, pint and apple cobbler.
"At the Rising Sun?" Merlin was no longer smiling. And he no longer thought that it was endearing for Arthur to be on the verge of sulking. Arthur can sulk for all Merlin cares; he is not going to go to the Rising Sun if it was the last pub in the city.
Or any other pub. Because risks of walking into one with Arthur is always the same, regardless of its location.
"Yeah," Arthur replied, shrugging. He finally closed the newspaper, which Merlin knew was nothing more than a prop. Arthur knew Merlin resented the pub, so he needed to pull all the necessary stops to ensure that Merlin would agree to whatever he was suggesting.
Merlin decided that the lovely jumper and bare toes are not going to work this time. He resolved not to let things like jumpers in the shade of red that brought out the gold in Arthur's hair to sway his decision.
Merlin will not go to the pub. Period.
"But who'd want an almost home-like ambiance and great food and an enjoyable walk to the pub and back? We'll just have cereal with orange juice." Arthur was looking at Merlin.
Seriously, that pout is going to be the death of me. I wonder if I should kiss him...
No such luck. Arthur has his eyes narrowed.
Merlin sighed, one of many for the evening. "There's no need for sarcasm," Merlin pointed out, stuffing his leather gloves into his backpack. He dropped the backpack on the floor next to his bike and went into the adjoining living room, pretending to be interested in finding the TV remote and ignoring the hungry rumblings of his stomach. And Arthur's eyes on him.
It worked, for about a minute. As Merlin looked for the remote, Arthur had left his seat at the counter and was looking into the refrigerator. "Oh. It seems we're out of orange juice as well," he called out, sounding very nonchalant about it. Merlin rolled his eyes as he dropped to the sofa. "Brilliant. We will now know how a rabbit feels when it is fed with pellets. It would be a most enlightening experience. And what will it be, Rice Krispies or Cornflakes?"
"How about we order in a pizza..."Merlin began, turning to look at Arthur. He was going to firm about getting the pizza and not going out to the pub.
Eye contact was established. Merlin inhaled sharply.
Arthur was wearing the red jumper.
And it was Merlin's favourite jumper of Arthur's.
And his toes were doing that curl-uncurl thing again.
And he looked absolutely adorable (and many, many other things that are between adorable and sexy and flaming), standing at the counter, arms crossed at his chest, regarding the two boxes of cereal.
And he was pouting.
Merlin sighed, turning to the blank TV again.
The battle was lost.
Merlin shook his head.
As if it had been a battle in the first place.
"We'll go down to the pub."
A hint of a smile lifted the corner of Arthur's lips. But of course, he will not make this easy for Merlin. "Are you sure? Because I am looking forward to a scintillating dinner of dry cereal with multiple shots of whiskey to wash it down."
"I said we'll go to the pub, didn't I?" Merlin said, standing up from the sofa.
"Yes, you did." Arthur said, walking into the living room. He came to stand before Merlin. He raised an eyebrow, waiting for the next part of Merlin's concession about going to the pub.
Merlin narrowed his eyes at Arthur. He always gets the blame, no matter what the reason for his actions. Or what was at stake. But, Arthur, despite having won the battle (which was never a battle, Merlin thought again ruefully), was unwavering in his gaze on Merlin. Merlin sighed again, his shoulders slumped. "And I promise I won't start a fight."
"Promise?"
"Promise."
That finally brought forth a smile to Arthur's face. He uncrossed his arms and reached out for Merlin's hand. "It's a great place. I wish you would give it a chance, Merlin. It'll grow on you."
The only thing that will grow if I stepped into the place is resentment.
Merlin sighed inwardly as Arthur went to gather his coat and wallet. But Arthur wants to go there; he and the landlord have become good friends; Arthur gives him investing tip and the owner gives them a free pint whenever they dropped in.
Which was quite frequent until three months ago when Merlin punched a man in the face.
That had caused uproar in the pub; it was a family establishment and such acts of violence were…frowned upon. Merlin punched the man and found himself, not long after, outside the pub, nursing a stinging fist, whilst Arthur assured the proprietor of the pub that though he was not sure what exactly had happened, it will never happen again.
They never went back to the pub since that evening.
Arthur never asked what prompted Merlin to punch the man. For even though the punch was all sorts of impressive (his fist balled, his arm swung back and the surprisingly pleasing sound of smashed cartilage when Merlin's fist connected with the man's nose), the reason behind it had not been so. If Arthur had asked, Merlin would not have known what to answer him. Arthur, on his part, had not questioned Merlin. He did take Merlin's hand though, once he was outside the pub, checked if anything was broken and held his hand as they walked back in silence to their house. The incident was never mentioned again and Arthur never spoke about eating at the pub until this evening.
Merlin wondered what had happened to prompt Arthur to think that going to the pub was a good idea. Or that Merlin would even be allowed to enter the pub in the first place.
"Come on, Merlin," Arthur called out, interrupting Merlin's ruminations. He was at the hallway, slipping into the dark brown leather jacket (another item in Arthur's wardrobe that Merlin absolutely loved), the antithesis of the jumper and setting off his Greek god looks in a most spectacular manner.
Once again, Merlin sighed. And knew that him being evicted from the pub was a foregone conclusion, even before they had stepped out of their house.
-X-X-X-
It began immediately once they got to the Rising Sun. The usual cheerful noises of the dinner crowd became less discernible as they walked into the pub.
Actually, it was more obvious when Arthur walked into the pub, but Merlin tried not to think about it. He knew he was with a man whose good looks were reasons why Merlin had looked at him in the first place when he met him all those years ago (Merlin has to be honest with himself; broad shoulders, those arms and eyes the blue of a summer sky…Arthur is, simply put, stunning). And well, if people are to believed, Merlin has heard the odd remark or two that his own pixie-ish looks were equally enticing. And there was the fact that Merlin and Arthur made a striking couple…
Merlin braved the walk from the front door to their table, trying not to delve much on the fact that they seemed to have a table reserved for them. He wondered if Arthur had made a reservation earlier…the dining area was almost full, only another couple of tables were empty.
"I had a talk with Ron," Arthur said, as they sat at their table. "Ron actually did not mind much, but he was concerned about the other diners. I assured him it will never happen again."
Merlin frowned. If anything, he did not want Arthur defending him. He can fight his own battles (ones involving bare toes and jumpers notwithstanding) as the man with the broken nose would attest to. But Arthur looked earnest enough and Merlin knew he meant well.
Merlin was glad of it, he was. But, the Rising Sun has robbed Merlin of all other emotions except for apprehension. He wanted to tell Arthur he appreciated it, but he could not.
Because he had already seen looks that he knew could possibly set off another round of violence before the evening is out. And after that, no amount of talking would convince Ron to ever let Merlin into the Rising Sun. And Arthur as well.
The thought of Arthur being banned from the pub brought a smile to Merlin's face, his first happy thought since leaving the house minutes ago. It would great not to having to come to this place. Or have it as an option for eating out.
They were given a menu each, but Arthur already knew what he was having, so he studied the wine list, while Merlin tried to decide between the falafel or the vegan burger. As Merlin was mulling over his choices, Arthur excused himself to go to the bar and say hello to Ron.
Less than two minutes later, trouble started.
A group of women, four of them, came into the pub and took the table behind Merlin. Merlin turned to look at them, as he edged his chair close to his table; they smiled at him, appreciating his gesture…and probably his grin. Once they were settled into their seats, they started talking about their boss and their workload, the sale at some boutique…general women talk. Merlin, having decided on the burger, was determined to ignore them.
Until, suddenly he heard the words, "tall", "golden", "gorgeous", "jumper" and "yummy".
Merlin took a deep breath, trying not to think too much about the words he had heard. It could have been about anyone or anything in the pub. Arthur was not the only man wearing a jumper in there. Nor was he the tallest bloke. Merlin tried not thinking about 'gorgeous' because the word gorgeous implied only to his boyfriend (Merlin was not being biased, but seriously, if Arthur was in a room, all words gorgeous implicate Arthur) and Merlin does not want to just jump into conclusion that the ladies were discussing about Arthur. For all he knew, the fish and chips they ordered could be what the 'yummy' intended.
"…single…"
"…definitely…"
"…no woman sitting by herself…"
"…at home…"
"…don't even say it…"
"…if it was me…wouldn't let him out of the door by himself…"
"…what a profile…"
"…this pub is the best…"
"…don't think I'm hungry anymore…"
"…I am. For that hunk of meat headed…"
"…this way! This way! He's headed this way!"
Merlin did not have to look up to know that Arthur was walking back to their table. The ladies' conversation, which had started out as a whisper had steadily gained enough decibel to make it into an almost hysterical (and not in an amusing manner) commentary that Merlin was sure half the pub would have heard. He clenched and unclenched his hand, knowing that he was over-reacting by losing his temper. He should be flattered, not wanting to lash out physically. The ladies were doing what he had probably done hundreds of times in his life, checking out the most gorgeous man in the room.
But Arthur was his. Period.
He did not want people (men or women) discussing about him.
Or offer to buy him a drink.
Which was why three months ago, Merlin broke the man's nose. Irish, if he remembers correctly. Not bad looking either; brunette, with a beard and stylish shoulder-length hair. Merlin had overheard the man, talking to another man, about Arthur. He was telling his companion, (whatever they relationship was, it must have been superficial, because no one in a proper relationship would discuss other men with whomever they were with…yes, Merlin was all sorts of old-fashioned, but he was perfectly fine with it), as they sat nursing a beer at the bar, that Arthur had 'presence' even while sitting at the corner.
And that Arthur's jumper was 'adorable' but he 'would have it ripped out in a moment to see what was underneath…'.
And 'a gorgeous thing like that, he needs a drink…'
That had been when Merlin's fist had collided with the man's nose.
Merlin's sighed, trying to tune out the women from the next table. Their discussion, if it can be called one, was getting more and more explicit. And Merlin was getting more and more angry. He knew that something is going to break.
"Merlin?"
Arthur's voice caused not only for Merlin to look up at him, but the women from the next table to fall silent.
And seeing the concerned look on Arthur's face, concern solely for him, Merlin felt all the anger that had built up inside him dissipate almost immediately. When Arthur sat down opposite him, one hand covering Merlin's, Merlin suddenly knew how to get back at the women for 'discussing' about his boyfriend.
Merlin leaned forward and kissed Arthur, on the lips. And he took his time as well, enjoying it as he always does when kissing Arthur. When he drew back, Merlin was not sure which he enjoyed more, the kiss or the deafening silence from the table behind him.
Both had been immensely satisfying.
As satisfying as the women's final comment had been.
"…I knew it…"
Merlin laughed for the first time that evening.
-X-X-X-
Merlin enjoyed the meal. He enjoyed it so much that he left a nice tip alongside the bill. And told Ron to reserve a table for them next Thursday evening. The walk back was nice as well. Arthur did not say much, but then again, he usually does not. Nor does he have to. Merlin always compensates with talking for the both of them.
It was not until they reached their home that Arthur finally spoke. They stood on the porch, and Arthur looked at Merlin, his eyes shaded by lashes made golden by the light above them. He was amused about something, hence the smile on his face.
"What?" Merlin asked, hands crossed at his chest, mimicking Arthur.
"Who made you jealous this time?"
Arthur's question took Merlin by surprise. Merlin opened and closed his mouth; denial seemed to be the easiest way out of this. But Merlin had never lied to Arthur and he was not going to start. He might as well feign ignorance on the matter. "What?" He tried to look incredulous. Tried. And failed.
Arthur raised an eyebrow. Of course, pretending to be ignorant did not work with Arthur; Merlin should have known it would not. "Ron told me. He had overheard the conversation at the bar that day. He was quite surprised that you left it at a broken nose."
"When did you know this?" Merlin said, hoping his question would divert Arthur from his original question. Well, it was an outside chance; Arthur was after all a barrister and was unlikely to forget any question he had asked.
"Five minutes after you broke the Irishman's nose."
"Oh." It was only response Merlin could give. He was not sure what else he could have said. Telling Arthur that he had been insanely jealous at some random stranger checking out his boyfriend had seemed absurd then, as it was now. As absurd as Merlin felt right then with Arthur knowing the reason behind Merlin acting in a slightly over the top manner all those months ago.
Arthur's smile was languid, but it was a smile nonetheless. "I'm flattered," he said.
Merlin was instantly wary. He looked at Arthur, frowning. "By the Irishman?"
In any other situation Merlin would have laughed at the way Arthur rolled his eyes. But jealousy has a way of clouding over truths and exaggerating things that are not even real. "Don't be absurd, Merlin," Arthur said, taking a step closer to Merlin. "I'm flattered you broke someone's nose for me." The smile was back and despite the low lighting, Merlin could see Arthur's clear blue eyes; honest and open, the look reserved only for Merlin.
"Well, I have never been fond of people coveting what is mine," Merlin said truthfully. And was glad that he finally got to say that out aloud, never mind the fact that Arthur might just get offended at being thought of as an object.
"I am yours."
Merlin's heart lurched when he heard Arthur. Of all the times they had exchanged 'I love yous'; over the phone, hastily before leaving for work, the first time when they said it together as they walked back to Merlin's flat after their third date, this time Arthur declaring he was Merlin's whilst standing on their porch…well, it was a different sort of feeling all together.
But no one said jealousy was easily managed.
And Merlin, as cool and confident as he was sometimes, he needed just a little bit of assurance that this man he is with…that Arthur is all his.
"I know. But the Irishman, you know?" Merlin shrugged, averting his gaze from Arthur's, trying his best not to pout. "Accent, hair, beard. I was mildly attracted to him myself."
"And you thought I'd be…" Arthur did not finish that statement. When Merlin looked at Arthur, he saw him looking as surprised as he sounded.
Merlin felt just a tiny bit ridiculous. All these things had sounded perfectly valid and logic when he had thought about it, but out in the open, it was more stupid than anywhere near endearing. "I know it's absurd, but, I could not help it."
Arthur reached out a hand, touching the tendrils of hair near Merlin's ears. His touch was fleeting, but his eyes were regarding Merlin with much tenderness. "Accent and hair, I am looking at the finest examples of each attributes right here in front of me...though you do seem to be in need of a haircut, love."
Merlin's smile turned into quiet laughter.
"And facial hair does not do much for me." Arthur's gentle tone suddenly became…less gentle. "And now I have the sudden urge to break this Irishman's nose."
"What? Why?"
"Because you're mildly attracted to him."
Arthur's reply, quiet and with a hint of steel to it, surprised Merlin. He never thought about it…that Arthur would actually be jealous of someone Merlin had nothing more than a passing fancy…one that lasted not more than a minute.
It did not make sense...
But, it did make sense. In a way that Merlin knew two people in love could understand. His smile turned into a grin.
"I am more than mildly attracted to you right now," Merlin admitted, taking a step closer to Arthur, grinning as Arthur leaned forward with every intention of kissing his boyfriend.
"Good. So am I," he managed to say, before his lips claimed Merlin's.
Several moments passed. Merlin drew away from Arthur, almost as reluctant as Arthur was in releasing him. His look was nothing less than smouldering when he took Merlin's hand and led him inside the house.
"It was the women," Merlin felt like enlightening Arthur, once they were inside their house. It was the answer to Arthur's original question. "At the table behind ours?"
Arthur looked at Merlin, deep in thought. "I didn't notice them," he said, shaking his head, a frown creasing his brows as he tried to recall and then gave up fairly quickly because he has probably decided it was futile anyway. And perhaps, he was distracted by something as well. The frown was replaced with a mischievous smile, something else that was solely Merlin's, and Merlin had learned fairly early on in their relationship what that smile meant (anything ranging from Arthur stealing food from Merlin's plate to how quickly Arthur could undress Merlin). The gap between them became nonexistent as Arthur kissed Merlin again, urgent and none too gently. Merlin kicked the front door shut and focused his attention on the only person that mattered to him.
And if Arthur was surprised when Merlin told him to leave his red jumper on, he did not show it. He was much too distracted anyway.