Visiting Morgana makes Arthur feel better. He doesn't know why, but it seems like ever since he had that mental breakdown in front of her, they've grown closer. It's easier to view each other as actual people, it seems. He doesn't mind her ordering him around because he's no good at telling her he cares either, and that's the closest Morgana really gets sometimes. She's so fucking stubborn. But he does care for her, as a brother to a sister. She's just obnoxious.

"Merlin!" says Morgana excitedly when she answers the door, pushing Arthur aside to hug Merlin. "You haven't been to magic club in two weeks and I dislike it immensely." She looks at Arthur with unveiled disgust. "Arthur, you're stupid and boring. Come in."

Arthur scowls at her, and she sticks her tongue out at him.

It's the closest they really get to telling the other they care.

Gwen is at the stove, hair pulled back, looking flushed. "Hello, Arthur," she says, having the decency to greet Arthur first because she knows he hates it when no one ever does. She smiles. "Hello, Merlin." If there's been anyone more excited about Arthur and Merlin than Gwen, Arthur would like to meet them. Gwen is practically over the moon about the two of them.

"She just likes to see you happy," Morgana keeps saying, and Arthur supposes it's true.

She really is that fucking sweet. Honestly, it's exhausting just to be friends with. But a nice kind of exhausting.

They eat lamb for lunch, which is way too elaborate but Arthur's cooking and he cooks lamb best and secretly he wants to show off for Merlin a bit, so no one really objects. And, honestly, he's the best cook of the four of them.

"This," says Merlin through a mouthful of rice, "is delicious."

Arthur pretends he isn't gratified by the praise. "Don't speak when you're chewing, Merlin, Christ."

Merlin, in response, makes a show of chomping on his food even more.

"It's like you don't even like each other," says Morgana incredulously. "You're always bickering."

"Oh, I don't like him at all," says Merlin. He turns to Arthur and deftly kisses him on the cheek. "Not even a bit."

He stands to clean off his plate, only catching sight of Arthur's telling blush in the mirror above the sink.

Arthur hates his biology sometimes – for making him blush and shake when Merlin's around, for making his stomach strangle his vocal chords when Merlin says something particularly revolting, for making him seize Merlin's face and kiss him severely, which Merlin says is nice, but could be scaled back just a bit but when he's caught up in the moment but Arthur can't care less what Merlin thinks.

Actually – Arthur never cares what Merlin thinks when it comes to his kissing.

Christ.

"I don't understand you two," sighs Morgana, slicking her hair back in one hand. "I don't understand your relationship at all."

"Well that's good," retorts Arthur hotly, "because I'm really not asking you to."

Actually, the fact that Morgana doesn't understand their relationship makes Arthur feel immensely better because he doesn't understand it either, and if someone outside of their relationship can't it means it's not just him.

Arthur has never been really comfortable being alone – look at last year: he only lasted a month on his own before Merlin.

But it doesn't stop Arthur from worrying. Constantly. Actually, that's Arthur's modus operandi, to be quite honest: worrying. He can't shut off his brain, it's always cycling through all the things he's done wrong, how he's mucked things up with Merlin, how Merlin could walk out the door any moment, that relationships hardly ever last, that there's nothing stopping Merlin from just leaving, that Arthur doesn't deserve Merlin, he doesn't deserve him at all and also Arthur wants to tell Merlin he's in love with him, not just that he loves him, because they feel different, Arthur's in love with Merlin, but whenever he goes to say it, the words get curbed behind his teeth, leaving skid marks on his brain.

"Arthur," says Merlin when they're pretending to fall asleep that night. "What's wrong?"

Arthur is sure to keep his voice casual. "Oh, you know. Just me."

Merlin shimmies his skinny body next to Arthur's, his long, slender fingers wrapping around Arthur's bicep. "Tell me."

Arthur sighs. "I don't want to." He catches sight of Merlin's face, which is sadder than is reasonable for a human being, he looks like a fucking clubbed baby seal, fuck, and feels immediately chastened. "No, that's not what I meant. I mean, I don't want to feel it and if I don't address it, it makes me feel better."

"Well," says Merlin smoothly, "that's bullshit."

"I hate feeling things, Merlin," confesses Arthur, "and then knowing I hate it is a feeling and then I realize I'm feeling things and then it's weird because I don't want to." He pauses. "Does that make sense?"

"Not even in the slightest," says Merlin, smiling. "But I understood it anyway."

"And sometimes being with you is horrible," Arthur continues, "because you make me feel so fucking much, and sometimes it's good and sometimes it's bad, but I can't even tell the difference. You know? As if I'm thinking too much about thinking and feeling too much about feeling."

"Arthur," says Merlin, his breath wind over Arthur's skin. It gives him goosebumps, little mountains on his skin. "I absolutely love you."

"Merlin—"

"Oy," says Merlin, still smiling. "Let me finish."

Arthur groans. "What."

"I absolutely love you, Arthur Pendragon, and I don't care if it takes you months or years or millennia to figure out how you feel, because I know you love me, and I'll wait. I'd wait for thousands of years for you, Arthur, and I don't care if you don't think you're really gay gay or something like that, or if you don't want gay friends or even if you'd rather not call me your boyfriend when you're at work because you're afraid of people seeing you different, because I know you'll come around. Because I absolutely love you, Arthur, and I know you love me, too."

Now would be a good time for Arthur to say he's in love with Merlin but the words get stuck on his tongue, the taste of consequences choking him.

"Thank you," is all he can manage, and it's not even romantic, it sounds like he's thanking a waiter, for fuck's sake, but it doesn't matter to Merlin, not at all. Because Merlin, he can hear the way Arthur's breath hitches before he says it, and he knows that soon Arthur will say "I love you" without being afraid.

But for now all he can do is watch Arthur fall asleep, still settling into himself. His prince.

…sometimes even Merlin wants to gag about their relationship.