He woke up the following morning with a completely expected headache, and a smile. He got up slowly, giving his head time to adjust to each new level of verticality. Finally, he was standing on the floor. He had gotten up at some point during the night, slightly more sober, and changed out of his suit. Arthur's tie - the one that looked good with Merlin's eyes - was laid neatly upon his bedside table. He ran a finger over the fabric. Arthur himself had probably already left the building - his method of getting rid of a hangover involved moving his body and getting fresh air, two things that Merlin at this moment found almost unthinkable. Besides, what with Camelot being a city and all, there was a limit to how fresh the air would be.

He picked up his phone and called Gwen. However, she was largely unintelligible. If she had lost something last night, it was her voice. He vowed that he would be right over, and they'd get over their hangovers together.

In the door to the flat, he met Morgana.

"Are you just coming home now?" he asked with disbelief.

Swaying slightly and still in her beautiful dress which had somehow remained unscathed, she answered slowly, "Yes."

"Impressive. Where have you been all night?"

"Oh, where haven't I been!" she exclaimed gleefully.

Merlin was relieved that whatever she had been doing it seemed to have been the fun kind of staying up all night, rather than the awful kind, though he was glad he was not going to be her waking up later in the day - he felt horrid enough himself, and he hadn't come home still drunk at midday.

"I think I've started a revolution," Morgana contently informed him as she waltzed on into the flat.

"That's brilliant," said Merlin, although he didn't really know what she could mean, "I'll see you later."

"Laters," she replied, dragging out the letter s for far longer than necessary.

He went to Gwen's at foot - she lived in student accommodation right next to campus, sharing a kitchen and a bathroom with four strangers. It was shabby, but the atmosphere was pleasant, even though everyone did see fit to lock their doors if they were out of their room for more than five minutes. The kitchen was empty of other people, so they elected to occupy it. Gwen had well and truly lost her voice and was really doing quite poorly, not solely on account of a hangover, like Merlin, but also because she and Lancelot had gotten stuck outside in the rain for an absurd amount of time, and she had caught a powerful cold. Merlin insisted she stayed on a chair, snugly wrapped up in her duvet, while he fried some bacon for the two of them. It was only fair, he reasoned, that he should do the cooking, as it was her food.

In a hoarse whisper, she told him about her night, and how lovely it was in spite of the trouble getting home.

"I am sorry we left you behind! I was, well, distracted - "

Here, she paused to give him a reprimanding look as he snickered. when he was silenced, she continued.

"And then I lost sight of you altogether. It was sort of stupid of me to ask you to come and then not…"

"Believe me, Gwen, it was all alright. I had a good time anyway."

"Really?"

"Really."

Unlike Merlin himself, Gwen was not one to push for details, and he didn't expand on his evening, not because it was anything he wanted to keep secret, but because it was a nice thought that it was his, and his alone. For now, his evening with Arthur was something private and sweet that he could keep inside his mind and keep living in.

He didn't see Arthur at all that day, he was out doing things, presumably - Merlin knew he had rugby practice on Sunday afternoons, this one probably being the last one before Christmas. He didn't really mind. The worrying part of his brain, which was, sadly, quite a substantial component, was beginning to fret about the what ifs, and overanalysing the previous night in every possible negative way, ranging from a practical joke to a drunken mistake, to quite simply a dream.

That last theory was pretty much debunked in class the next day. Gwen had taken his advice and stayed home with a hot drink, so he found himself sitting next to someone else. It was a particular someone that he was not entirely fond of; a girl called Jodie of whom the only thing he knew was that she had spent the first few weeks insisting to everyone that Gwen had only gotten the Pendragon grant on account of her friendship with Morgana. This was a hilarious, but somewhat poisonous fallacy quite clearly rooted in jealously, and it didn't put Jodie in a favourable light from Merlin's point of view. He was somewhat apprehensive, then, when she turned to talk to him.

"So, you danced with Arthur Pendragon at the party, right?"

"Er, yes, I did," he said, rather perplexed. He refrained from pointing out that she sounded like a fourteen year old girl, because that could be down to his predetermined dislike of her.

"So, are you like, his boyfriend, or..?"

Or what?

"I'm sorry, but I don't think that's any of your business."

His tone was polite, and he smiled apologetically, but it still felt like an odd thing to say. He was confused by her interest in the subject, and if he were completely honest, he didn't really know what to answer, and so he could think of nothing else than that, on the spot.

Though he was asked variations upon the same question several times throughout the day, he never came up with a better answer.

When he come home, Arthur was in the kitchen, making himself a sandwich. He was a horrible cook - for most of his meals, he leeched off Morgana or Merlin, or he got takeout. But sandwiches was the one thing he could make to an edible degree, he had dedicated himself to perfecting that skill. Merlin stopped in the doorway, and watched Arthur as he moved around.

"Hi," he said, his heart speeding up slightly.

Arthur looked over his shoulder.

"Hey," he replied. He sounded cheerful, and there was nothing in his voice that indicated regret for Saturday evening.

Merlin leant against the doorframe.

"How was your day?" he asked Arthur's back.

"Very good, thanks. And yours?"

"It's been interesting," Merlin admitted, "I've received about a thousand percent more attention than usual, which I think might be your fault."

Arthur laughed.

"Well, you're a massive nerdy idiot who seems to have gotten off with someone way out of your league, so you can't blame them for being surprised. They probably want to know your secret."

"Rude," Merlin chided, but he was grinning. Arthur was nothing if not himself. "Mostly they wanted to know whether I was your boyfriend or not."

Now came the great unknown. The free fall, out of the airplane, into… Wherever.

"Hm."

Arthur didn't say any more than that, and he still had his back turned. That was not as illuminating as Merlin had hoped.

"I wasn't sure what to answer," he added, a plea shallowly submerged in the words for Arthur to please, please tell him where they stood, because he was still falling and desperately reaching out.

There was a silence.

"Well," said Arthur eventually, "Do you want to be?"

Merlin was sure the beating of his heart could be heard on the other side of Camelot. Slightly out of breath, he answered,

"Yeah."

There was an excruciating pause before Arthur reacted.

"Good," he finally said, calmly and curtly, "Because I'd love to be yours."

Merlin could almost physically feel the cloud swallowing him up, wrapping him in warm, safe cotton. His heart was still attempting to escape his chest, and he felt lightheaded, but it was in no way a bad thing. He leaned his head on the doorframe and wondered whether he would ever be able to stop smiling. He continued to watch Arthur assemble his sandwich. The way his arms moved, the shape of his back, the muscles in his neck, the way his head tilted and the way his hair fell…

"Are you going to stare at my arse all day, or are you going to hand me those tomatoes?"

He motioned towards the bench on the other side of the kitchen. Merlin picked up the basket of cherry tomatoes that was placed there and walked over to Arthur with them.

"I wasn't staring at our arse."

Not that it wasn't worth a stare, but his eyes hadn't gotten that far yet.

"Oh, sure you weren't."

He took Merlin's hand for a moment, and ran his thumb along its side, from the wrist to the tip of the little finger. Then he let go and took the tomatoes.

"Thank you."

He arranged them on the two quite delicious looking sandwiches he had been preparing.

"You made two," Merlin observed.

"Yes, one for you, too," he said, shoving one of the plates into Merlin's hands with a smile, "So now you are obliged to cook dinner for me tonight."

"Thanks. You know, I'd have done that anyway. I mean, when don't I?"

"That's not a very strategic thing to say, Merlin. Now I have no incentive to make you sandwiches anymore, and so you will have to always make your own."

"I don't think boyfriends need incentive to make sandwiches for boyfriends."

Arthur looked at him for a long time, almost long enough that Merlin felt uncomfortable under his gaze. It was impossible to say exactly what he was thinking.

"I suppose not," he said eventually, and then he added, as if tasting how the word felt in his mouth, "Boyfriend."

The rest of the afternoon went by as it would on a regular day. They went about their regular habits as usual, but, to Merlin, at least, the whole atmosphere was different. It was as if things had subtly changed colour, or someone had switched the lighting around. He operated in the world as usual, but it was a different place. He reviewed his notes, worked on some problems, wrote a paragraph or two for an upcoming project, then he made dinner which both Arthur and Morgana ended up partaking in. She was still a little bit reduced after Saturday's extended shenanigans. She did vaguely remember meeting Merlin on her way home, but what revolution it was she had been a part of was anyone's guess. They ended the evening settled lazily in front of the television again. Arthur was the first to announce his intentions to retire, also the norm, as he had his earliest start on Tuesdays. He was about to get up when Merlin summoned what courage he had - if he was Arthur's boyfriend now, then he was damned if he wasn't going to get to kiss him before the day was over.

He laid his hand on Arthur's neck, and pressed his lips onto his. He felt Arthur shudder, then he reacted, opened his mouth and kissed him back.

The main thing it had in common with that sort-of-kiss that had unleashed all this was that it seemed to impede Merlin's ability to think. He could only feel, feel Arthur's lips on his, the tingle of stubble scraping against his mouth, strange, but far from unpleasant. It wasn't a long kiss, but it was a real kiss. He leaned his forehead against Arthur's and said, "Goodnight."

"Goodnight."

He couldn't remember ever hearing so much warmth in Arthur's voice before.

Morgana watched them with a raised eyebrow. Once Arthur had left, she slowly said, "I feel like I should definitely have seen that one coming."

Merlin shrugged.

He was still confused about Arthur and what exactly he thought and felt and wanted. They needed to talk, of course. But for now, the thing that he felt could keep him going through just about whatever, had already been said.

I'd love to be yours.