Morgana calls Arthur the next morning at seven o'clock.

"—"

"What the fuck, Morgana?" moans Arthur into the receiver. "I want to go back to bed."

"You aren't—you aren't still up and panicking?"

"About what," asks Arthur, thinking mostly about rolling over and ignoring her phone call.

"About—seeing Merlin yesterday."

And the second she says it, Arthur remembers that it happened and that he could never again pretend it didn't.

"Fuck," he breathes, and Morgana realizes what she's done.

"I'm sorry, Arthur, I—"

"It's fine," says Arthur flatly, but it isn't because he's sure yesterday was the last time he'd ever see Merlin.

"It's just—he called me."

"Who?" asks Arthur tiredly, bored of playing guess who with Morgana by now.

"Merlin."

"Fuck," repeats Arthur, and Morgana is humming nervously on the other end of the line. "What did he say?"

"He said that he saw you and things didn't go well, but that he misses me and Gwen and wants to see us."

It's more than he can take, the fact that Merlin wants to see Morgana and Gwen but not him.

"And then he said he wanted to see you."

"And he couldn't tell me that himself?" demands Arthur hotly. "What are you, his fucking messenger?"

"No, it wasn't like that," protests Morgana hastily. "It was like – a confession. He admitted he wants to see you but that after yesterday he doesn't know what to do about it."

"Fuck," says Arthur once more, and Morgana makes a sound. "Fuck. Fuck fuck."

"Yeah," agrees Morgana. "Basically."

"Did he – did he want to see me, see me or just see me?"

"I don't know what the fuck that means," says Morgana. "But it sounded like he misses you."

"I don't – I love him," blurts out Arthur suddenly, awkwardly, and he can hear Morgana smile on the other end.

"I'm proud of you," she says at length. "I'm proud of how far you've come."

"I don't even know if I've made progress," says Arthur tiredly. "I thought I had, but after talking with Merlin, I feel like I'm back where I've started."

"You're not," says Morgana firmly. "I see the changes." She sighs. "I hope you will too soon."

"So what now," says Arthur flatly.

"We'll invite him over," says Morgana, "and I'll tell you when and then you can just pop over and it will be so much fun and horribly awkward."

"Fuck," repeats Arthur again.

"That's the spirit!" says Morgana cheerfully, and she hangs up the phone.

Arthur shows up too early. Of course.

"You're not supposed to be here," stammers Gwen. "You're supposed to come at seven."

"It is seven," says Arthur, and Gwen shakes her head. "It's six thirty."

"Which is my version of seven," says Arthur, and Gwen groans.

"We forgot to schedule in Arthur's OCD," she calls over her shoulder, and Morgana, whose hair is still in curlers, shrieks.

"You can't be here! Merlin's not here yet! Leave!"

"I'm not leaving," says Arthur staunchly, and Morgana pulls curlers out of her hair fanatically. "Fine, it will be an ambush oh God. Merlin's going to be here any minute I cannot believe you ugh."

Gwen is looking out the window comically, leaving Arthur standing in the foyer holding his bottle of wine.

"He's here oh God he's here," shouts Gwen, and Morgana stumbles back into the room, shoving heels onto her feet and pulling something out of the oven. "Places. This is not a drill."

"Sit down, Arthur, at the table, shit," says Morgana, lighting some candles on the table.

"He's getting out of the car and entering the building let's go," shouts Gwen despite the proximity of both Morgana and Arthur.

"Stairs he's coming up the stairs," Gwen explodes, and Morgana shoves Arthur into a seat around the table. "Just sit down."

There is a knock at the door.

"It's show time," breathes Gwen, and opens the door.