Chapter Fourteen.

The days were better than they'd ever been, and what used to be late nights in the club separated by two floors turned into subway rides to Arthur's apartment right after closing. It was a miracle either of them ever got any work done at all. Throughout the day, they would often sneak away for some alone time. That either constituted an isolated area or a walk along the Hudson during lunch. As the weeks went on, these instances only become more frequent.

Merlin couldn't get enough of Arthur. Apparently, Arthur felt the same way. It wasn't unusual for Arthur to surprise Merlin with a deep, swooping kiss right in the middle of the club—sometimes even during the business hours. Like Gwen, Merlin was now invited to all the Knight's meetings, and after a while it was expected that he be kept in the loop.

Of course, he had to pretend he knew less about organized crime than he actually did; but even when he slipped up, no one seemed to notice. Arthur was completely relaxed around him. Merlin probably could have dropped his faux-accent out of the blue without anyone saying a damn thing.

He didn't. He couldn't risk it.

Merlin still wore his façade. But it wasn't the same as it had been before, when he'd first created it. Merlin liked who he was around Arthur and Knights. It felt increasingly less like he was playing a part, and more like he was finally settling into his own skin.

Sometimes, he even believed his act himself.

It was early October, not even midday yet, and Merlin and Arthur already stole away for a make out session in the cellar. They were in the back of the room, hidden from the door by the loaded shelves. Arthur was sitting on the floor with his back pressed to a crate and Merlin was straddling his lap. Arthur's hands were placed loosely on Merlin's sides to keep him still, but every now and again he rode the motion as Merlin involuntarily rolled his hips.

Making out almost always turned into impromptu quickies.

Merlin didn't know how long they'd been down there, but it must have been close to an hour. He no longer heard the staff milling around upstairs as they cleaned. It reminded him that he had a job he should have been doing, too. He thought maybe it involved stocking the bar for the night ahead.

He hummed and pulled fractionally away from Arthur. "I think we came down here for a reason," he vaguely remembered.

"Was this not the reason?" Arthur asked, playing dumb.

"Shockingly, no."

"Then, go on. Back to work." The messages Arthur was sending were mixed, to say the least. He inclined his head to lazily suck at Merlin's neck. He doubled his grip and tugged Merlin closer in a crashing motion.

Merlin shuddered on impact. A fire dropped down low within him as he was pressed against Arthur's firm torso. He groaned and worked his hips, and imagined Arthur mouth wrapped around him as he thrust. It occurred to him that he didn't have to just fantasize.

But then he heard the sharp clacking of heels on the floor above them. The cellar door muffled it, but Morgana was calling out for Arthur.

Merlin froze and Arthur immediately stopped kissing him.

"Shh!" Arthur hissed.

The cellar door whined open. "Arthur? Are you down here?"

Arthur cupped his palm over Merlin's mouth. Merlin smirked impishly behind it.

"Arthur?"

"Is he there?" Gwaine's voiced called from further away.

"No," Morgana yelled back. She sounded like she was turning away. "I think he's with Merlin."

"Oh, great! They're probably off fu—!" The cellar door slamming cut off Gwaine's words. There were more muffled mumbles, but Merlin couldn't make out what they were saying. Eventually, the clacking of Morgana's shoes faded.

Arthur removed his palm.

"Wonder what that was about," Merlin said. It wasn't like Morgana to come after them after they'd disappeared.

"Interviews," Arthur answered nonchalantly. "We've got to the pick the next fella for Valiant to lock up."

"Mordred?"

"He's got too many strikes on his record already. One more, and he'll end up in Sing Sing, and I already feel guilty enough for thinking him a spy."

Arthur shuffled as Merlin's resituated himself on his lap. Merlin bit his bottom lip. "You had your reasons," he said past the lump in his throat. He hated being reminded of the Kings.

"Not good enough reasons," Arthur sighed, being too hard on himself. "Anyway, Morgana and Leon can conduct the interviews without me. They've done it before. They'll hire some fish." A first-timer.

Suddenly, his eyes lit up with an idea. "We should do something today. Get out of here. It won't be long until it's too cold to enjoy being outside."

The days were getting chillier and shorter. They shouldn't have been wasting them in a dusty, dark old cellar, no matter how tempting.

"A date?" Merlin stressed, biting down on the word for emphasis. He knew how much it made Arthur roll his eyes, and it did.

"If you like," Arthur droned before getting back on track. "What about Liberty Island? We can take a ferry out. I've not been; have you?"

For the first time, it dawned on Merlin that, in all his years of being in New York, he'd never once even considered taking a trip to the Statue of Liberty. "No," he said reflectively. "My god, I've gone native."

Arthur chortled. "Then, let's go. Maybe some of that liberty and justice for all will rub off on us."

"You'd better let me stock the shelves, then," Merlin reminded him. "The sooner I get that done . . ."

Arthur shook his head in mock disapproval. "Always with your responsibilities. Fine. Get your chores done, starting with something that requires your immediate attention."

All at once, Arthur flung his arms around Merlin and pulled him down the floor. Merlin whooped with surprise at the dizzying motion, and it didn't take long for the sounds he was making to become more strained.

Somehow, news of their trip to Liberty Island spread like wildfire (which had nothing to do with Merlin excitingly proclaiming it to Gwen, who in turn told Lance and then Morgana, who in turn told everyone else). It somehow became a group outing.

On the ferry ride to the island, the group of them stood on the bow of the boat. The wind made the Knights' long trench coats flap and made Morgana and Gwen constantly fight their hair out of their faces. Once docked, they stood at the base of the statue and craned their necks to see the torch that towered stories above them. The faded green of the metal was a shock against the blue and white sky.

Merlin had never felt so small.

Inside, on the intimidating and long trek to the observation deck within Lady Liberty's crown, Gwaine bet Percy he could beat him to the top. He promptly lost. On the other side of the river, the tip of Lower Manhattan glinted in silver in the afternoon light. The buildings reflected in shimmering ripples off the water.

Back on the rolling green grass in the shadow of the statue, they ate the picnic Gwen and Lance had packed and grappled with pigeons—blasé and unimpressed by the threat mankind posed to them, as all New York City birds were—for the food. Afterwards, Merlin stretched out beneath a tree, chatting with Gwen and Morgana, who basked in the last of the dying season's sunlight that would soon be too weak to warm the city. Arthur and his men boxed in a playful way that quickly dissolved into boyish wrestling.

A few hours before the Camelot's opening, they took a ferry back to Manhattan. As the island sunk away amongst the rocking waves, Gwaine belted out a song that Merlin vaguely remembered from his childhood. Apparently it was a favorite, because everyone else joined in at the chorus.

It was a nursery rhyme about a Duke of York and his army climbing up a hill, only to be frightened back down by a dragon. It was sung with enough mirth for onlookers to think them drunk.

From where Merlin was sitting, Arthur was framed against the Statue of Liberty. Every inch of him was golden in the setting pink and yellow sunlight bouncing off the currents. He might have been made of bronze himself.

"No, no, no! Blue balloons will completely clash with the rest of the décor," Morgana was saying into the phone when Merlin entered the club one morning two weeks later. For some reason, she'd moved the phone out of Arthur's office and hooked it up behind the bar.

Merlin didn't even know they had a phone jack behind the bar! He'd been working at the Camelot for six months now, and he'd never noticed one. It was possible Morgana willed it into existence. He wouldn't have been surprised.

"It's red and gold or nothing!" Morgana told the poor soul on the receiving end. Merlin was sympathetic for his plight. "Well, I don't care how many shipments you have to order. Gold and red. Twenty-four of each color. Understand?"

As he approached, Merlin caught Gwen's eyes and raised his brows in question. She was standing behind the bar, too, leaning on the wood with her chin in her palm and her fingernails tapping out a tune on her cheek. She patiently waited for Morgana to get off the phone. In the meantime, she returned Merlin's expression with an exasperated smile and a pointed look at Morgana out of the corners of her eyes.

Merlin knew the look well, as he'd worn it himself many times. Both he and Gwen had an impossible Pendragon to maintain.

"Excellent!" Morgana said in a buoyant tone that clearly meant she'd gotten her way. Like there was ever any doubt. "I'll pick them up on Thursday. Have the cake ready by then, too. Red velvet." She hung up the phone.

"Cake?" Merlin inquired with suddenly more excitement than curiosity. "What's the occasion?"

"Like you don't know!" Gwen giggled like she was sharing a secret.

Merlin let out an unsure noise.

"Oh, for god's—!" Morgana moaned when she realized Merlin had no idea what was going on. She'd said it the same way Arthur always did, like the whole world was conspiring against them to be one giant pain in the ass. Merlin often wondered if it was something they'd picked up from their father. It was probably the only similarity between the siblings.

"Did Arthur not tell you? I swear, his melodrama will be the death of us all," Morgana ranted before finally revealing with the proper amount of spite, "It's his birthday on Friday." She said birthday sarcastically, like she hadn't actually meant birthday.

Merlin had no idea what else she could have meant, so he looked at Gwen to decipher the hidden language. She silently confirmed his suspicions that Morgana had indeed actually meant "the day one is born," after all.

"His birthday?" Merlin echoed, abruptly panicked. He tried to remember Arthur having mentioned it, but he couldn't. Really, Merlin should have known the date his own boyfriend's birthday. He leaned into the bar and scrubbed his face.

"Then, you haven't gotten him anything?" Gwen pointed out.

"Why didn't he tell me!" Merlin lamented, but his palms muffled it.

Even though he couldn't see her, he might as well have heard Morgana rolling her eyes upon saying, "He's weird about his birthday! I don't know why."

"Oh, you know why!" Gwen protested, sounding empathetic. At least, Merlin understood what she'd meant by that.

Apparently, Morgana chose not to. "You're right. It's Father's fault."

Gwen didn't debate the point.

Merlin stood up straight, hoping to clear his head. It was Saturday. He had less than a week to come up with a birthday gift for Arthur—one Arthur wouldn't despise, which might have been impossible because Arthur despised almost everything he didn't pick out himself.

"You could take him somewhere," Morgana supplied off Merlin's helpless look. Her eyes lit up in they way they always did when she had an idea that benefited herself. "Actually, that's perfect! Take him out all day Friday so we can set up for the surprise party here!"

It wasn't a terrible plan. But Merlin didn't know where Arthur might like to go. New York City was a big place, filled with thousands of attractions. There had to be something! His mind came up blank.

Gwen nodded in solidarity. "You could take him to a show!"

Merlin remembered the last time he'd taken Arthur to Vaudeville and cringed. And he didn't think he could afford Broadway tickets.

"Or—oh! Coney Island!" Gwen exclaimed. "Lance and I went a few weeks ago. It's wonderful!"

Morgana scoffed dismissively. "Please. Can you actually see Arthur enjoying himself at Coney Island?" She'd said Arthur like she'd said birthday and Coney Island like she meant The Ninth Circle of Hell. Merlin had to admit she had a point.

Arthur wouldn't have been satisfied with anything! While he'd stopped complaining about New York on a daily basis, he still didn't go out of his way to seek a good time in the city. He treated Manhattan like how a king might treat his kingdom—making sure his lands were in tact and his people weren't starving (or, in this case, thirsting) and keeping the enemy outside his borders. He only ever went anywhere beyond the West Side when Merlin dragged him.

Then, an idea struck Merlin. Maybe he was thinking too narrowly. Maybe the only thing Arthur needed from New York City was a break from it. Arthur wouldn't want a surprise party or a Broadway show. He'd want to relax, to rest his head from the weight of the crown.

Merlin licked his lips and smirked to himself. "I think I've got an idea." The two women blinked at him in expectation, but he did not elaborate. Instead, he turned on his heels and started for the staircase.

"Cover for me if Arthur asks where I am!"

"And where exactly will you be?" Morgana called after him. She must have been annoyed at not receiving an answer.

It was Wednesday. But it wasn't any old Wednesday. Arthur hated this one—just as he hated every other day in this godforsaken week. He felt like he'd been holding his breath for days.

"Arthur?"

He looked up from the ledger to find Merlin in his office doorway. Merlin didn't wait for an invitation before pacing through, swaying slightly in slow strides with his hands folded behind his back. He looked like he wanted to say something, but he didn't come right out with it.

Which was unusual. Merlin was never one to hold back.

"Something on your mind, Merlin?" Arthur prompted. He placed his pen in the binding of the ledger.

"It's your birthday this Friday."

It had been the last thing Arthur expected to hear. Once it processed, he let out an exasperated exhale and looked away. He never cared much for his birthday, which was an understatement.

Every year, his Knights always tried to do something for him—which usually involved taking him to a new club and getting him drunk (the melancholy and frequently violent kind of drunk, despite everyone's efforts). Morgana always bought him something expensive. Gwen always sang him happy birthday, at least three times from morning until night.

It was an exercise he'd gotten used to, and one he'd hoped they'd left behind in London.

Arthur twirled at the silver ring on his finger. Uther had always pushed a smile on Arthur's birthday, but the luster never reached his eyes and his pats to Arthur's back where weaker than usual. He never celebrated—not really. He was too busy mourning. As a child, Arthur thought maybe he should mourn, too. The disposition started a few days before Arthur's birthday, rolling in like threatening dark clouds before a storm.

After time, the grief and the guilt sunk in until they became second nature. Any joy on that day just seemed inappropriate.

Arthur learned at a young age not to make a fuss about his birthday.

"Morgana told you," he guessed. The curve of his lips might have resembled a grimace rather than a smile.

"And Gwen," Merlin said, either to let her share in the credit or to assign half the blame.

Arthur picked up his pen again and began to scribble dates and dollar amounts. "Then, they told you not to make a big deal about it."

"Where's the fun in that?" The lightheartedness in Merlin's tone was phony. He knew he was walking on thin ice with whatever ludicrous idea he was about to propose. Arthur really hoped Merlin didn't have some extravagant evening planned. Even though extravagant and Merlin weren't exactly synonymous.

Although, if Morgana had helped him, maybe Arthur had reason to worry, after all. It could have been a party.

God, please let it not be a party.

"Merlin," Arthur warned, his tone on the cusp of aggravation.

"Just . . ."

It had been said in a whisper, tiny and uncertain. When Arthur looked up again, Merlin was staring at his shoes and biting his lip. Apparently, he collected his bravado, because he met Arthur's gaze squarely.

"I found this place in Sullivan County," he said, speaking quickly as though to not be interrupted. "It's a cabin—on a lake. White Lake. In the woods. Some hermit old man owns it, I think—the cabin, not the woods. Or the lake. Anyway, the lady at the rental office said he spends most of his time in Florida or somewhere warm or—"

"Merlin!" Arthur said again, just to stop him from rambling. He wasn't exactly sure what Merlin was trying to say, except that there was a cabin somewhere upstate. Arthur raised a brow in confusion. "Did you say rental?"

"I rented it for the weekend."

Actually, he said it more like, "Irenteditfortheweekend." Like he was wincing, instinctually protecting himself from an oncoming blow.

Arthur blinked. He realized his mouth was hanging open and he was staring, but he couldn't stop doing either. He felt oddly outside of himself, like his body belonged to another. His breath had even stopped.

"You rented it?" he heard himself say tonelessly.

Merlin shrugged innocently, a child scolded. "I got it for cheap . . . I think. It's the off-season for that kind of thing. I just thought . . ." He looked up again, giving a breathlessly hopeful grin. "You might like it."

Arthur looked down at the lines and numbers and ink blotches without really seeing them. He saw trees, instead—and water. The guilt and grief passed away without him really noticing until he was lighter somehow.

It didn't feel inappropriate at all.

"Or you could stay here for the surprise party Morgana and Gwen are planning," Merlin added, probably trying to make a weekend getaway to the country sound more enticing. As if it didn't already.

Arthur rolled his eyes. "You're terrible at keeping secrets!"

Merlin leaned into the desk, his eyes lighting up like a fisherman with a bite.

"What do you say?" he asked, biting his lip to keep down his excitement. Clearly, he'd put a lot of effort into this trip. Arthur couldn't say no. Arthur didn't want to say no.

He saw trees and water and Merlin.

Arthur puckered his lips, fighting a grin. He nodded.

As Merlin let his own smile free, Arthur looked at him as though he'd never quite seen anything like him before. And he wondered how it could be that Merlin saw him so completely, with such clarity, like no one else had ever seen him before.

He felt too light now. So light that his body felt too heavy around him.

"You're going to love it!" Merlin promised. He was about a second from jumping up and down in enthusiasm.

"Good, now get back to work," Arthur answered, just barely containing his own eagerness.

"Yeah, I will!" Merlin said in a way that sounded very much like he wouldn't. He started out of the office, backing up quickly so he could keep Arthur's eyes. He nearly tripped over his own heels in the process. "You don't have to worry about anything! Just pack some clothes. I'll take care of everything else!"

The back of his shoulder slammed against the doorway. It didn't affect him one bit, except for an apologetic glance to the wall and a sidestep.

"I've got it all under control!"

And he was gone, save for the echoes of his shoes and he ran down the stairs.

Arthur gave a breath of laughter. He tossed his pen down on the ledger, all hope of focusing on business gone. He leaned back in his chair and gleefully watched the spot from which Merlin had disappeared.

Maybe some birthday traditions had stayed in London, after all.