Chapter Nine

Arthur's ears were full of his own pulse, his heartbeat fast and drum-like in his head. The librarian had left him at the table and Arthur had been unable to stop himself from watching him walk away, each step careful as though he were trying not to trip over that loose lace of his. Arthur had warmed at the sight, something incredibly tender entering his chest as he thought of the many times he'd observed the lanky bloke stumble, trip, wobble.

Before him, Arthur had never been one to fall for an underdog, the clumsy one. He had always gone after an entirely different type of bloke, - or indeed girl - always after a certain pride, an attractive confidence. But then he'd stumbled into the library on a mission to find a place to escape for a while and…

And he had happened.

And now? Now all Arthur could do when watching films with his mates was fall for the hopeless cases, the underdogs, the characters who didn't lead but had all the spunk and none of the self-belief. He found himself yearning less for the James Bond's of the world and more for the Q's, no longer interested in Captain America and more inclined towards the dorkier Quicksilver, the shy and unassuming Nightcrawler.

Arthur couldn't explain it and he couldn't change it. Now he fell for the best friends, side-stepping the charming and brave leads for the intellectuals.

It made his head spin.

But it didn't scare him now, not like it did at first. Because Arthur watched for three years as the unassuming smile, the tousled hair, the sweet and helpful long-limbed librarian stole his heart and all its fractions, claiming his affections when he overheard him ramble, heard him argue passionately about one admittedly nerdy fandom or the next. When he'd heard him arguing with a girl on the desk over the unsung heroes in Harry Potter, Arthur had flushed all over because he felt the same.

The shared love for Neville and Seamus went right to Arthur's heart, and daft as it was it only aided his rapidly growing crush.

So now, seated at his favourite table and trying his hardest to look focused on a book as he stared, Arthur wanted nothing more than to scoop up the ridiculous, clumsy, cartoon-printed-T-shirt-favouring bloke and kiss him senseless.

And at the same time he was terrified of admitting how he felt.

Instead, he sat. He sat, and he watched as the bloke went back to sorting lights, as he checked each bulb thoroughly, as he fumbled and almost dropped cable after cable and dressed the tree in coloured twinkles. He just about had a heart attack every time the pale face cocked to one side, every time it looked like those dark eyes might drift his way.

The lights were up and the bloke was fiddling with reams of tinsel, tangling himself completely and shifting it from one way to the next as though… As though what, exactly? He looked like he were pausing, taking as long as possible. Stalling, maybe. Arthur had seen from previous years that the bloke clearly enjoy the task of putting up the tree, however humongous a job it may be. Arthur may not know him well, but he could see that clear as day.

He'd always loved seeing the joy light in those eyes, the grin that always stretched across his lips. He saw it waver now and a sudden thought struck Arthur from nowhere.

Was it possible that the table had been reserved? Could it be that the bloke were waiting for someone to show? But if so, then why had he cleared it for Arthur? Why had he come over so fast, like he'd been waiting to do so, like…

Arthur's mouth ran dry and his lungs stalled. He almost didn't dare to think it.

Was it possible? Could his luck be so good that-

Had he been waiting for Arthur?

And then, right then when he was swallowing the fear of what devastating consequences such a hope could have if dashed…

The blue eyes turned his way and met his own.

A flash zipped through him at the contact, as though his gaze were a physical touch. Every nerve was alight again, every inch of his skin alive and buzzing. And to top it off, a flush of dark pink rolled over the bloke's face, staining his cheeks and making his lashes darker than shadow. Arthur trembled.

And when it was over, when those eyes turned back to the pile of tinsel at the foot of the tree, Arthur felt brave for the first time that day. He gave himself over to it, and it rewarded him with what he'd wanted to do for so very long that it felt life-long.

Arthur pushed back his seat and stood up, his legs shaking with each step as he made his way finally over, as he approached the one place he'd wanted to be in three years. His side. He was compelled, as though drawn in by magnetism, or gravity or something stronger.

Like… fate.

Like Magic.

And suddenly he found himself there, standing beside the bloke with the down-turned head, seeing close up the concentration on his features, feeling the proximity send the wings in his stomach crazy, feeling the light-headed disbelief that he was actually doing this, standing right beside him and opening his mouth as though to speak.

"Need a hand?"

The head shot up and the startled eyes were round and breath-taking, sending all other thought from Arthur's vicinity.

"Hi." he croaked.

The bloke only stared at him, like he'd been zapped by some unseen force, startled and still, one hand reaching as though to cover his own mouth.

"I- uhm…"

"Hi." the librarian breathed, and Arthur could draw breath once more.

He pushed on recklessly, lest his bravery fail and his words disappear again like they felt destined to do.

"Listen, this is going to sound… well, weird, but-"

"Oh-"

"I just-"

"- god!"

"What?"

"Are we actually-"

"Are you-"

"Sorry, you go."

"Sorry, you go."

Both stopped to laugh, faces reddening as they broke the eye contact that was sending them both quivering. Arthur cleared his throat, Merlin hummed. Arthur brushed invisible lint from his jumper and Merlin rubbed the back of his neck with one hand.

The air between them was awkward, excitement crackling like anticipation.

It was happening.

Arthur took a breath and forced himself to get a grip, his eye returning to the lanky, nerdy form of the bloke he'd wanted to know for three years.

"I'm Arthur." he blurted, bravely at last.

"You are not!" came the eager reply, blue eyes shining as a smile bloomed across his face. "I'm Merlin!"

Arthur could only blink at him in response.