He was looking at him again. "Stop twitching!" Gwen hissed in his ear, but Merlin shook her off. It was her bloody fault anyway. Playing matchmaker like that. Who did she think she was? You know, a small voice whispered in the back of his head, she actually did a pretty good job last time. Will was a great bloke. It wasn't her fault the whole thing fell apart. Merlin shook the voice away, his frown deepening. He did not need to be reminded of that now, with Arthur-bloody-Pendragon's eyes boring into the back of his head.
The bell finally rang, and Merlin bolted out of his seat, fully intending to run out of the lecture hall and back to his dorm where he could lock the door and wallow in peace. Fate, it seemed, had other ideas, as his foot caught on the edge of his chair and he fell flat on his face. "Bugger fucking shit!" he tried to swear, but it mostly came out as a sort-of "mmrphr-mmphng-SHIT!" as he finally dragged himself upright with Gwen's help.
"Are you all right?" she asked, moving her hand from his bag strap, where it had been yanking him upright, to his shoulder where it began to pat in a vaguely reassuring manner.
"Fine," he muttered, straightening and preparing to march away from all of the other students pointing at him and laughing under their hands. He managed to get a full five steps before having his path blocked by none other than the reason Merlin's head still felt like it was on fire.
"Hello Merlin," Arthur said brightly, flashing a brilliantly white smile. "Fancy a coffee?"
"No," Merlin snapped back, attempting to elbow his way past. Arthur stood firm though, his rugby-player, broad-shouldered physique blocking Merlin's slim frame.
"Why not? It's just coffee," Arthur's smile grew broader, more inviting (or so he must've thought; Merlin thought that it made him look a bit deranged).
"I have a lot of work to do," Merlin tried to move around him again and, again, was blocked. Sighing, he turned around and shouldered past Gwen, who was much easier to dodge when she tried to grab him.
Arthur followed him, just behind Gwen, who was starting to add her own voice to the attempted persuasion.
"Please, Merlin, just one cup!"
"It's not like I'm asking you on a date or something."
"Would it kill you to be sociable for once?"
"I just want to get coffee."
"Pleeeeeaaaase Merlin?"
"One cup of coffee. Is that too much to ask? I've only asked about a million times."
Fed up with their pleas, Merlin turned around just before the door. "I said no, all right? I know what this all comes back to." He turned to Gwen. "I'm not going to let you set me up with someone again, much less a guy, much less him!" he jabbed a finger at Arthur before turning sharply on his heel and storming out of the lecture hall.
The dark mood followed him all of the way back to his dorm room. Luckily enough, Gwaine, his roommate, was out (no doubt wooing another hapless lady, Merlin mused before scowling again) so Merlin could turn up his music as loud as he liked and sulk on his bed while Holst's "Mars" roared about him. There, with the strings and the horns, and the percussion, he finally felt bad. Gwen was only trying to help, nevermind the fact that he was resolutely Not Gay. He had told her that, but obviously she didn't believe him and pulled this Arthur bloke out of nowhere. Well, not nowhere. Out of their Shakespeare lecture, which was completely unfair, because how could he stay Not Gay when those clear blue eyes were staring at you while reading Sonnet 18- no! He would not think about that, nor would he think about Arthur's hands, with his blunt fingers and tendons flexing over muscle as he drummed on his notebook, nor the line of his jaw when he laughed at something Lance (Gwen's boyfriend and the source of all of this current double date nonsense) said. No, he would not think about that, and he would be perfectly straight and instead think about that pretty girl in his Russian class that had smiled at him and called him cute because that's what normal blokes did.
Only her smile kept morphing into Arthur's and her hand on his elbow kept morphing into Arthur's and buggering shit was he glad when someone knocked on the door. He hopped off the bed, turning down the music and peered out of the hole. It was Gwen, holding two steaming mugs of what looked like hot chocolate and looking distinctly frazzled and uncomfortable. Smiling, Merlin unlock the door and swung it open.
"Hi," she said, looking very small and very uncomfortable. "I brought you some hot chocolate."
"Thanks, Gwen," he replied, standing aside. Her face melted into a smile and she darted gratefully past him.
"I really am sorry, though," she started to babble as soon as she set the mugs down. "I just think you and Arthur would be perfect for each other, and he's mad for you, and it's been ages since you've had a boyfriend, and-"
"Gwen," he started gently, grabbing a mug and blowing on it. "I'm not gay. We've been over this."
The look she gave him was sad. She knew. She was there when he called Will, half-drunk and sobbing, and told him that he couldn't do it anymore. She was there when he straightened his shoulders the next day, put on a smile like iron, and scoffed at anyone that tried to set him up with another guy, saying "What are you guys on? I like girls." She knew. And she knew better than to prod at that spot buried deep in his heart because it still hurt far too much.
He took all of this in in a moment, and took a sip of his cocoa. "If you want me to have a significant other, I can always ask Freya." She was the girl who smiled at him in Russian.
Gwen shook her head. "And leave Arthur out in the cold like that? You can pretend all you want that you don't like him, but I sit next to you in Shakespeare. I've seen how your ears go all red when he starts to read aloud." She took the mug Merlin handed her and sipped it gratefully. November was just beginning to sink in around campus, with its accompanying chill and howling winds.
"You could find him another date," Merlin mused, desperate to shove the attention off him. "I'm sure Gwaine would do it. He's always been a bit of a poof."
"Be nice!" she exclaimed, shoving Merlin playfully. "Besides, Arthur won't accept anyone else," she continued, her brown eyes peering at him through the steam rising off of her mug. "I tried."
He swallowed the sensation of his heart leaping into his throat. "Well, try harder."
Her face, which become slightly hopeful during the conversation, became sad again.
A few days later, Merlin was walking across the quad when a very familiar shout snapped him out of his peaceful reverie. "What do you want?" he snapped as Arthur jogged up next to him. "And if it's to get coffee, no."
The blond shrugged, falling into step with him. "Gwen told me that you said I should give up on you."
"She gives good advice," Merlin replied, pointedly not looking at him.
"Then she told me I shouldn't give up." Arthur grabbed his arm and stopped. Merlin, caught off guard, swung about and made the mistake of looking at him. "I don't think you realize this Merlin, but I like you. I honestly, genuinely do. And I know you probably think I'm the biggest prat in the world for asking you out so many times, but I really would like to get a cup of coffee with you."
"I…" Merlin began, hesitating. Here he was, standing in front of Arthur, feeling like an idiot because the boy was so honest and upfront and blunt and, all right, let's be honest, sweet about everything and Merlin… "All right. One cup of coffee. And it's not a date."
Arthur broke into one of the biggest smiles Merlin had ever seen. "Right. Not a date. Okay. I know the perfect place." He slid his hand down to Merlin's and began to walk, pulling darker-haired boy behind him.
"Oi!" Merlin jerked his hand away before the warm, sort of fizzy feeling that sprouted when Arthur grabbed it began to spread. "I can walk myself, thanks."
Arthur's smile dimmed a bit, then his lips crooked up on one side. "All right," he said, falling into step beside him. Merlin felt a bit dizzy.
"So, where is this coffee place then?" he asked after a moment, trying to ignore how his heart beat a little faster when Arthur's blue eyes glanced his way.
"It's off campus a bit," Arthur shrugged. "It's not too far. I'll drive us."
"You'll- what?" Merlin felt his voice squeak embarrassingly as the blond stopped beside a shiny black motorbike.
"Hop on," Arthur grinned as he tossed Merlin a helmet.
"I'm not getting on that," Merlin shook his head. His terrible balance, combined with the way Arthur was sure to drive, led his mind to… nope. No, he was most certainly not getting on that bike.
"Yes you are," Arthur's grin crooked as he slid his own helmet on. "Come on, Merlin. It's not gonna kill you."
"It will most certainly try," Merlin replied, eyeing the bike's sleek lines and engine nervously. It looked fast. Very fast.
"Don't be such a girl," Arthur slung a leg over, straddling a bike in a way that made Merlin's thoughts veer towards a territory that he had sworn to stay out of.
"Fine," Merlin snapped back, sounding a bit like a petulant child. He slid the helmet over his head and scooted cautiously onto the bike behind Arthur. At least there, thankfully, he didn't have the chance to see the blond's daredevil smile as he eased the bike slowly out of the parking lot.
"Merlin?" Arthur called, his voice muffled by the full-face helmet.
"Yeah?" Merlin called back, clinging to the back of the bike and trying to keep some distance between the two of them.
"You might want to hold on," Arthur replied, then took off so quickly Merlin lurched forward and found himself clinging to Arthur's broad back.
Inexplicably, he thought of Will and making snow angels after the first snow a year before. Snowflakes clung to his eyelashes, and Will was laughing as he smashed a handful of snow into Merlin's face, then kissed him through the cold. It was then, Merlin remembered, that he had thought that maybe, just maybe, they could last. But then… and now Will was gone, off at another school. It was probably for the best, Merlin mused. He probably wouldn't have even been able to leave his room, much less go to class, if Will was still there. And he definitely wouldn't be able to be Not Gay, which he most certainly still was, despite the scent of Arthur's leather jacket in his nose and the cold November wind whipping at his cheeks.
They pulled over, slowing to a stop and Merlin jumped off the bike as soon as he could without killing himself. "Wow, Merlin," Arthur smirked, pulling his helmet off. "I never knew you were such a girl. Clinging to me like that. I thought I might pop!"
"If you weren't such a bad driver, I wouldn't have had to cling," Merlin shot back, strangely offended.
Arthur gave him an odd look. "Well, come on, then," he said after a moment. "Coffee shop's upstairs."
"Camelot Coffee," Merlin read the sign on the door aloud as they passed it and began to tramp upstairs. "Why do I find that strangely ironic?"
"Merlin and Arthur at Camelot Coffee, yeah," Arthur's crooked grin was back, sending shivers into the pit of Merlin's stomach. He fought them down, reminding himself that this was not a date, just coffee, and that he was Not Gay.
"Maybe we can get a free muffin or something," Merlin muttered, and Arthur laughed, bright and surprised.
"Maybe!" he held open the door. "After you."
"Still not a date," Merlin felt compelled to say as he walked through the door.
Camelot Coffee was small, cluttered, and just what Merlin felt a coffee shop should be. Cramped little tables huddled next to tall windows on the wall, with barely enough room for two people and chairs to seat them, and squashy chairs grouped around a fireplace at the other end of the shop. Bookshelves lined the underside of the counter, stacked two or three deep with books.
"Merlin!" a delighted squeal snapped him out of his reverie.
"Gwen?" he said in disbelief, staring at the curly brown head that poked up from behind the counter. "This is where you work?"
"Yep! And hullo Arthur," she added, her eyes twinkling.
"Hullo, Gwen. Two coffees, please," he replied, leaning comfortably on the counter.
"Hot chocolate, actually," Merlin and Gwen said at the same time, then started giggling at the look on Arthur's face.
"You lot are mental," he shook his head before paying and slouching over to one of the squashy chairs.
"We weren't laughing at you!" Gwen called after his retreating back. He waved a hand lazily, and she turned back to Merlin with a grin as she got their order together. "So, are you two on a date?"
"No," Merlin answered, almost before she finished her sentence. "We are having coffee. It is not a date."
"All right," she replied, but she was still grinning. "Here are your drinks,"
"Thanks," he muttered, gathering them together and going over to sit by Arthur.
"Thanks, mate," Arthur said, gratefully receiving his coffee. Merlin nodded sullenly, sinking into his chair. "So, what's your major?" Arthur sipped gingerly at his coffee, trying to make conversation.
"Early Modern Literature," Merlin replied, hoping the idea would bore him enough that he would let them simply drink their drinks and leave in silence.
"What's that then? Just a load of reading?" Apparently, Arthur couldn't take a hint.
"Reading, literary analysis, and a load of other things you would probably find immensely boring." There. Perhaps now Arthur would shut up.
"You're right, I would find that boring. I'm a business major," he slumped back in his chair, propping his feet up on the low coffee table. "Dad's choice, but it's not terrible." Merlin let out a non-committal grunt. Arthur frowned. "Are you all right? You seemed fine earlier." Merlin didn't answer and took a sip of his cocoa. "Merlin?" Arthur leaned forward, placing his hand over Merlin's.
Merlin jumped, very nearly overturning his cocoa onto his lap. "Bloody hell, Arthur," he snapped. "This isn't a date, remember?"
Arthur recoiled nearly as fast as Merlin. "I know. Just coffee. I can ask questions, though. It's not like I'm interrogating you."
He looked so confused and hurt the Merlin's face instantly softened. "Sorry, It's just… Gwen asked about it, and it's not a date because I'm not gay."
Arthur frowned again, and Merlin knew he was remembering the year before and him and Will, but thankfully he chose not to say anything. "All right. Not a date."
They talked about little things, then. Arthur laughed at Merlin's absurd amount of homework and Merlin laughed at Arthur's absurd amount of money. "It's my dad's," Arthur tried to brush it off, but it was also Arthur's and Merlin told him so. They sat and talked until their drinks had gone cold and the sun began to set. Then, they stood up and went downstairs and got back on Arthur's motorbike and drove back to campus.
Fast seemed to be the default speed for Arthur's driving. He took off from the coffee shop so quickly that Merlin was forced to clutch at his back again. It was very difficult, then, to convince himself that he was Not Gay, with the feel of Arthur's waist under his hands and the smell of hisleather jacket in his nose and the scrape of his combat boots against Merlin's feet. Arthur laughed suddenly. Whether from the sheer adrenaline of how fast he was going or from otherwise, Merlin didn't know, but the laughter flowed over him like snowflakes in his eyelashes and he knew that he was in trouble.
Kissing a girl, Merlin mused, was very unlike kissing a boy. There was no awkward scraping of teeth or hard lines to push yourself against. Girls were soft, and a bit unwieldy, and they yielded far too much. He was expected to do all of the work, while they laid back and enjoyed it and it was all very unfair. Still, it was all part of being Not Gay, and he could almost convince himself that he enjoyed it. He had the rest of his life to convince himself, anyway.
Freya made a soft noise and arched up into him, her leg sliding along the back of his. He made (what he hoped was) an appreciative sound and pulled away. "My goodness, Merlin!" she exclaimed, her eyes bright with mischief. "Where did you learn to kiss like that?"
He shifted uneasily, trying not to squash her. "Here and there," he replied, smiling back at her, eyes a bit unfocused. Perhaps drunk-dialing Freya for a snog wasn't his best idea, but the whiskey he dug out of Gwaine's fridge and the feel of Arthur's waist under his hands pushed him forward and now, here he was. "You're a pretty goooood kisser yourself." He slurred. Was he slurring? He couldn't tell.
She frowned, starting to look concerned "Are you sure you want to do this?" she asked, eyes narrowed. "You're drunk, Merlin."
"Yes, I am," he replied, bobbing his head. "And perfectly capable of making my own decisions, thank you."
"I don't want to push you into anything you don't want to do," she bit her lip, looking more and more concerned. Merlin didn't know why. He was having a good time, right? She should be having one too. He bent down to kiss her again. She put a hand flat on his chest and pushed him away. "I don't want to have just a drunken snog," she said, sitting up on his bed. "I would like a relationship, Merlin."
"That's all right," he smiled at her, feeling pleasantly warm and fuzzy. "I do, too."
"But not with me," she replied, shaking her head slightly.
He frowned. What did she mean, not with her? Of course he wanted a relationship with her! She was pretty, and smart, and he was Not Gay, so it was perfectly fine. "Of course I want a relationship with you, Arthur," he said, then froze. He had said Freya, right? Not… not… oh, god…
She stared back at him, big brown eyes becoming resigned. "All right," she said, moving out from underneath him. "I'm going to go." She grabbed her jacket from where it was slung over his chair and kissed him on the cheek. "You're a lovely bloke, Merlin. You really are. And you really should be honest with yourself," She said, then left. Merlin sat there, alone once again. He choked back a sob, and reached for the now half-empty bottle of whiskey again, determined to drink himself into oblivion.
A knock on the door roused him. He sat up, the near-empty bottle of whiskey slipping out of his hand and onto the floor with a sharp *crack*. Dimly, he wondered where Gwaine had gotten to again, but a rise of bile in the back of his throat quashed the thought and he leaned over and retched into his rubbish bin. The door creaked open, and he heard an "Oh my god!" before a pair of combat boots rushed into his line of view and a hand descended onto his back. He retched again.
"Merlin, are you all right? Merlin? Merlin?" he could barely hear the voice, but heard just enough to know, know that it was Arthur.
"What are you doing here?" he mumbled, fumbling his way upright with the help of something surprisingly warm and steady.
"Gwen asked me to come. You had a study session with her and Lance or something and my god. Are you all right?" Arthur's hand was moving now, comforting circles that warmed across Merlin's back.
"I'm fine," he tried to feebly push Arthur away, but he felt the bile rising in his throat again and leaned back over to retch again.
"You are not fine. How much did you drink?" Arthur must have caught sight of the bottle on the floor because he suddenly went still. "Merlin, did you drink that entire bottle of whiskey?"
"It was three quarters full when I started," Merlin somehow made it upright again and clutched at the warm thing for support.
The warm thing clutched back, wrapping itself around him in what felt like a hug. "That much alcohol could kill you, Merlin!"
"Good," he replied, his voice muffled by the thing. "Being alive is too much trouble."
"What?" the warm thing was taken away, and suddenly Merlin was looking into clear blue eyes. "Why on Earth-?"
"Cause he wouldn't be hurt then," Merlin replied, the words spilling out of him. "Will wouldn't have gotten hurt cause of me, and he would still be okay and I would still be okay, but I'm not okay. Why am I not okay?" he started to cry, big, fat tears dripping down his cheeks.
"Will wasn't hurt because of you," Arthur said, his face twisting up in sadness. "He wasn't. How could you hurt anyone?"
"He was with me, so he was hurt!" the words exploded out of Merlin. He couldn't hold them in anymore. The alcohol, and Arthur being right here and the small, aching part in his chest just expanded and expanded until there was no possible way he could hold it in. "They kicked the shit out of us, because I was with him and he was with me and we were happy, oh god. Why was there something wrong with us being happy?"
The warm thing was back and hugging him and stroking his hair as he cried into it. "There is nothing wrong with you being happy," Arthur choked out. "Nothing. You should always be happy."
And Merlin cried. He cried and he cried and Arthur held him, because Merlin knew now that the warm thing was him, and they were both crying because Merlin had kept that bottled up for so long, and Arthur was stroking his hair, and it all felt so right. He cried until he felt like he had nothing left, and then he cried a bit more, and then he fell asleep, Arthur still stroking his hair.
Merlin awoke with a groan, feeling like someone had shoved a dirty sock in his mouth and then started jumping on his head. Surprisingly though, he felt warm and comfortable, which hadn't happened since he and Will broke up. With a bit of effort, he opened his eyes and found himself staring straight at Arthur Pendragon. The blond, so lively when awake, was strangely calm when sleeping, his big arms wrapped around Merlin and his eyelashes brushing his cheeks. Merlin reached out to touch his face, unthinking, then stopped, remembering the night before. Only the pain in his head stopped him from recoiling, and even then the movement was enough to make Arthur stir.
Merlin froze. Arthur murmured something in his sleep, then opened his eyes. "Hullo," he said, smiling sleepily. "Feeling better?" Merlin just started at him, unable to move. Arthur frowned a bit, still not fully awake. "Are you all right?" he asked, his voice still muddled with sleep.
Merlin couldn't move. He couldn't stop thinking about how Arthur knows. He knows about Will and what Merlin's been doing to himself and about everything. "No," he chokes out, before wriggling out of Arthur's arms to throw up again.
The blond was out of bed in a trice, rubbing Merlin's back as he threw up on top of the stale vomit from the night before. "Are you all right?" he repeated, panic starting to creep in his voice. Merlin sat back up again, feeling the spike pound into his head as he stared at Arthur. Arthur stared back, his hair still mussed from sleep and all golden and soft in the morning sun. Merlin was struck by a sudden though of how stupid Arthur's hair looked like that and let out an involuntary snort of laughter. "What?" Arthur asked, sounding indignant.
"Your hair looks like a bloody trainwreck," Merlin replied, a grin beginning to form on the corners of his lips.
"Your's doesn't look much better," Arthur shot back, running a hand through his hair and making it stick up even more. "You look like you were hit by a bus. Remind me never to let you drink whiskey again."
The laughter died in Merlin's throat, and he began to extract himself from Arthur. "Right. I'm gonna go get some water."
"Wait," Arthur said, grabbing his wrist. "You know, Merlin," his thumb began to run over the back of Merlin's hand. "You don't have to be afraid anymore."
Merlin pulled his wrist out of Arthur's hand. He looked at him for a long moment, then went to the bathroom to rinse the taste of dirty sock out of his mouth and to help alleviate the pounding in his head. When he got back, there was no more vomit in his rubbish bin, no more empty bottle of whiskey on the floor, and no Arthur. Feeling strangely empty, Merlin crawled back into bed and tried to fall back asleep.
It took a long time without Arthur's arms wrapped around him.
Gwen was the next person to wake him up, which she did with much hollering and fussing. "Merlin, are you all right? Arthur told me what happened last night. I can't believe you drank almost an entire bottle of whiskey. You are not allowed to drink again, do you hear me? Not allowed!"
"All right, Gwen," Merlin smiled. "I'm sorry for worrying you."
She frowned for a few more moments, then plopped onto the bed next to him. "Was he here all night?"
"I'm not going to talk about it," Merlin shook his head, trying to look stern, but he could feel a grin starting to creep onto his mouth.
She gaped at him. "He was, wasn't he? Oh, I told you he liked you!"
"I'm not going to talk about it," Merlin insisted, but he could feel himself smiling.
"I told you!" she sing-songed, then dissolved into giggles. Merlin felt laughter bubbling up inside his throat too, and let it out to mingle with hers, "Really though," she said, still smiling. "You look much better."
"I feel much better," he replied, and he did. Something happened the night before, amidst all of the drinking and the throwing up, and the crying, that left him feeling much, much better. And Arthur's small caress on his hand that morning… Merlin still felt it, and still heard him saying that he didn't have to be afraid anymore. "I think I'm okay now, Gwen. I really think I am."
Her face softened. "Good. Now," she rummaged about in her bag. "I brought some soup, and the patented Smith Hangover Cure!" she held out a sealed bowl full of what looked like beef stew and a water bottle filled with a murky brown liquid.
"I'll just take the soup, thanks," he said, grabbing the bowl. "I'm feeling all right."
She frowned. "Well, I'll at least go get you some water, then."
He smiled weakly. "Yeah, thanks."
She left, and he set to the task of prying open the soup bowl without it going everywhere. He halfway succeeded when his phone went off, making him jump. "Bugger!" he swore, sloshing a bit of the still-hot stew onto his lap. He dabbed at it gingerly while reaching for the phone with his other hand, finally managing to grab it without spilling any more of the soup.
Sorry, it said; one lonely text message in his in box. The number wasn't in his phone, but he knew who it was. He slumped back, his arm flopping over his eyes and the soup sloshing dangerously in his lap. It was all right. Really, it was, but… he wanted to tell Arthur in person. And maybe kiss him. Just a tiny bit of Merlin wanted to kiss Arthur (okay, maybe it was more than just a tiny bit), but he was still scared and didn't want Arthur to get hurt.
"All right, here you go," Gwen came bustling in again, the same water bottle that had the hangover cure now filled with water. "Merlin, what did you do?" she cried, tugging the dirty sheet off of him.
"Spilled the soup," he muttered, poking an eye out from under his arm. "Sorry."
"You need to be more careful," she replied, bundling the sheet up and tossing it in the hamper.
"I'll try," he said, his words a bit muffled by his arm.
She looked at him, then sighed. "You'll see Arthur tomorrow. Don't worry about it."
"I'll try," he repeated, and she laughed again.
"Stop twitching," Gwen hissed in his ear. Merlin couldn't help it. The clock was moving so slowly, and he wanted to talk to Arthur, thank Arthur, kiss Arthur- well, maybe not that last one. Finally, finally the professor began to wrap up his lecture. Merlin bolted out of his seat again, before snagging his bag on the armrest and stumbling. He looked up as he desperately tried to untangle himself and saw Arthur's blond head bobbing away with the crowd. He gave his bag one last, desperate jerk and it finally came loose. He took off running after Arthur, dodging through the crowd and hoping his clumsy feet didn't give out before he reached him.
"Arthur!" he yelled, hoping that the blond heard him over the crowd. Miraculously, Arthur turned around and spotted Merlin flailing after him. He turned away and Merlin's heart sank, but then Arthur's friends nodded and left and Arthur was there, standing alone on the quad, waiting for Merlin. His heart leapt into his throat at the sight, and he couldn't believe how lucky he had ended up, and all because one bloke was too stubborn to give up. He stumbled to a stop in front of him, panting, and looked him in the eye.
Arthur opened his mouth to say something, and Merlin held up a hand. "Wait," he said. "I want to say something first." He straightened and stood taller than he had ever felt. "I was killing myself. Really, I was. It's been a year since Will, and I refused to let myself feel anything for anyone and especially not you because I hate everything about you. Your hair, your stupid combat boots, the way you drive, the way you dress, everything. And over time, I guess I started to hate you a little less. And I'll be honest, that terrifies me. Because even though you're a prat and one of the biggest clot-poles I have ever met, you're also sort of sweet and honest and you care about people, and me, though I have no idea why since I'm a bigger mess than all of them," he looked right into Arthur's eyes. "But you were right. I don't have to be afraid anymore because it wasn't my fault. And I shouldn't be afraid to love someone because I think they might get hurt."
Arthur stared at him. Then blinked. Then shifted and pulled a paper out of his back pocket. Merlin stared at him, confused, until Arthur began to read.
"Those lines that I before have writ do lie,
Even those that said I could not love you dearer:
Yet then my judgment knew no reason why
My most full flame should afterwards burn clearer.
But reckoning Time, whose million'd accidents
Creep in 'twixt vows, and change decrees of kings,
Tan sacred beauty, blunt the sharp'st intents,
Divert strong minds to the course of altering things;
Alas! why, fearing of Time's tyranny,
Might I not then say, 'Now I love you best,'
When I was certain o'er incertainty,
Crowning the present, doubting of the rest?
Love is a babe, then might I not say so,
To give full growth to that which still doth grow?"
"That's Sonnet 115," Merlin said, his breath a bit ragged. Arthur read him poetry. Shakespeare. A sonnet.
"Yes, it is," Arthur agreed quietly, folding the paper back up.
Merlin stared at him for a moment more, then muttered, "Oh, bugger it all to hell," grabbed the back of Arthur's neck and kissed him. Arthur made a surprised noise in the back of his throat, then melted into the kiss. His arms came up and around Merlin, warm and steady and strong, and Merlin's fingers ran through Arthur's hair. His brain spun away. He didn't remember what he had to do next (kiss Arthur) or what he was supposed to do (kiss Arthur). He just knew that he did not want to stop kissing Arthur. The blond pulled away after a few moments, and Merlin went after him, capturing his lips for a few more blissful moments before snapping back to reality.
"So," Arthur said, his eyes bright and lips red from the kissing. "Coffee?"
"Mm," Merlin replied, and kissed him again.