Disclaimer: I do not own Merlin, dammit. *Sobs*. It belongs to BBC.

Notes: REPOSTED because I made some mistakes about Morgana and Leon. I forgot I had already made them a couple xD My bad. And then reposted again because I am an idiot and forgot some formatting things. SORRY FOR SPAMMING YOU xD

This should be finished soon and when it is I shall post a new story, which is approx. 14 chapters called 'On The Beat.' :] When 'Firsts' is finished I'll be posting another six-parter, but it is currently nameless. I am also in the process of writing a short one-shot of their very first meeting, before Arthur's accident (it will only be short) and another that features the party Catrina mentioned in the last chapter.

Enjoy

PS: Please point out any typos, mistakes or general criticisms you may have if you have them :D

The Dinner

[4/6]

It's been a few weeks since Arthur had been formally introduced to Merlin and his opinion hasn't changed – he is still a hopeless idiot, although perhaps not quite as hopeless as Arthur had previously believed. He comes into Kuppa Koffee as often as he ever did, during the same sort of period as well.

Sometimes, when the currents of customers are slow, they have whole conversations, only briefly interrupted. They are pleasant conversations, topics breaching from the simplistic like movies, books or music to in depth debates of politics and current events. Sometimes, when Arthur is in the mood and Merlin has the time, they even have those crazy, deep conversations of life and direction and philosophy. But, admittedly, they are few and far between.

He has told Merlin the strangest of things, thoughts and ideas of things he probably wouldn't feel comfortable telling anyone other than Lancelot. They have spoken of love and preferences and ex-partners, of hang-ups and insecurities. Merlin has spoken of his mother and Will and his family, and of his Uncle Gaius who took him in when Ealdor became too small a place to contain his curiosity and need for adventure and variety. Arthur had spoken, grudgingly and with a little coaxing of his own family, warts and all – of his father, his mother and half-sister, of his fathers' new beau and the constant anxieties whenever his fathers' bunk up and irrational anger at him for such actions.

Other times, they may barely even get past Merlin parroting of his order and the brief mandatory greetings before Merlin is whisked off again to do this or get that, to sweep that table or attend that person. Those times, they get the barest of snatches of conversation, mere comments, usually teasing as Merlin sweeps past, balancing crockery on his arms. On these days, even Merlin's break times are limited and conversation small to accommodate.

And all the time, even during those deep conversations of life, there is always that friendly, mocking banter – Merlin's witty intelligence and sharp tongue battling with his own. It makes the conversations interesting, it's interesting to watch what slip-ups or comments Merlin lets slide and what ones he challenges with a quip of his own. It is intriguing to watch his eyes illuminate when they broach a topic he is passionate about, like literature or sociology, the way his cheeks flush a little as he gestures wildly with bony fingers; the way his nose scrunches up a little when Arthur says something he doesn't agree with, a little frown between his brows as he shakes his head. He likes to watch Merlin ready himself for an opposing argument, how he straightens in his seat only to lean forward a bit, or how he chews his lip when he is seriously deliberating Arthurs' own opinion; how his eyes twinkle with a mischievous light and his lips quirk in the beginnings of a boyish grin full of childish charm when Arthur has opened himself up to teasing, how he leans back and relaxes, allowing Arthur to either realise his mistake or dig himself deeper.

And he finds himself further and further confused as he is entrance by this man-child, who can be mature as a wise man and in the next breath regress into the delight of a child. Advice passes his lips as easily as banter, secrets as easily as jokes and pain as easily as joy. He wears his heart on his sleeve, trusting those he meets not to rip into it as soon as they can, guileless prey to an angry predator, and yet Arthur feels none of the disdain he usually does for such people. Before meeting Merlin he found such people foolish, not worth his attention. This world is dog-eat-dog and if they are stupid enough to bare their throat to the predators with no defence, then they deserve what the world serves them.

But Merlin had changed that view. He still finds the concept an odd one, one he could never adopt and most fellows who do the same he will still look down on – but Merlin has offered something, a refreshing insight to the psychology of those people. He can, through Merlin, see the attraction of such a lifestyle, of the freedom and strength it can hone in some people, even if he does not truly understand.

He remembers the very first time he has set eyes on Merlin. If someone had told him then that he would feel the stirrings of attraction to such a man, an attraction that bleeds deeper then something physical, he would've laughed. Lancelot had told him that Merlin was no fool as he had first commented, but Arthur hadn't believed him.

Maybe he should've been more trusting of Lancelot's judge of character. But no matter, he has learnt better now and better late than never, he thinks, now that he has recognised what he might've missed.

"Arthur, are you paying any attention?" Arthur eyes are dragged away from Merlin's figure as he coos over a baby in a pram just a few tables away, boyish grin in place as he talks with the mother – who is most definitely making eyes at him rather shamelessly. It annoys Arthur, which annoys him further. He is perfectly aware of the attraction he feels for the younger man, he also knows Merlin has no preference regarding gender unlike Arthur, who has only brought females to his fathers' gathering to keep the Pendragon Patriarch happy.

He made a promise long ago that when he finds a man he wants to settle down with, if he does, then he will happily introduce them to the family. But until then, he is willing to keep up the charade and keep his personal life as private as possible.

"Who are you staring at?" Morgana's voice once again bleeds through his thoughts and Arthur flicks his gaze to her, keeping it there.

"Just a friend."

She raises an eyebrow disbelievingly, following where his line of sight had once been and catching Merlin as he stands after stroking the babes' cheek and returning to work.

"Oh, the cutie who took our order," she grins at him wickedly from over her hot chocolate. "Arthur, I approve."

The blond rolls his eyes. "I hardly need your approval, Morgana." But even as he says it, there is a faint feeling of relief. But he crushes it – it is stupid. He feels an attraction, but he has no idea what Merlin thinks. The boy is, self-admittedly, a little dense when he comes to such things – well, Merlin had used the word oblivious, but that really is just a politer term for dense.

"But it's nice to have," she adds for him, turning in her seat to gaze at the boy in question again and, really, Arthur could strangle her. "Pretty little thing." The comment is almost lazy, off-hand before she turns around again. "Speaking of dating, have you got one for daddy dears'–" she sneers the words, her distaste for their shared father obvious "–birthday?"

Arthur makes a disgruntled noise. "Not yet," he answers. "I'd much rather not think about it. I still have a week or so to find someone." Without his consent his eyes drift back to Merlin who is laughing at something Will had said and hitting his shoulder.

"Yes," Morgana says as she places her mug on the tabletop. Arthur can almost taste the aura of smugness cloaking her and hear the smirk of her words before he sees it. "Someone indeed..."

"You know Morgana," Arthur says as he pulls into a free space outside the restaurant. "You could've worn something a little more appropriate." He throws a meaningful look at her outfit, even as she laughs and waves his attention away.

"There's nothing wrong with what I am wearing," she answers breezily, exiting the car with grace. Arthur rolls his eyes and grumbles after her about shirt skirts and low cut necklines, grabbing his walking sticks. Really, he thinks, when he locks the car. Is it too much to ask for her to cover up a little bit instead of flaunting her attributes so shamelessly?

"I am twenty-six years old, Arthur," she says reprovingly when Arthur voices this. "The Big Brother look didn't work when I was fourteen, it won't work now."

"Doesn't mean I can't try," Arthur argues, vowing mentally to castrate any male in the restaurant, waiter or otherwise, who thinks peering down his sisters' cleavage would be a good idea – even Leon wouldn't be completely forgiven. They are both lead over to an almost full table when they arrive, the celebrating couple raising to greet them. Arthur eyes the long table, there is a free seat next to a woman Arthur assumes to be from Gwen's side of the family, who is quite possibly a cougar by the way she is lying Lancelot's younger cousin and a two between Merlin (seated next to Gwen's brother) and Leon, who Morgana is delighted to see and moves to greet straight away.

Gwen smiles, and gestures to the seats sweetly. "We thought we'd save a seat for you two with people you knew." If Arthur didn't know better, he would almost assume the look in her eye is conniving, but Gwen is obviously too sweet to plot and plan like that.

Yeah right.

Merlin had already looked up at their arrival and is sporting his usual grin. As Arthur approaching, he says, with all the seriousness in the world: "I bloody knew you were faking." Arthur pauses and quirks an eyebrow at his friend. "I bet you don't actually need that wheelchair*." He shakes his head in mock disapproval. There is a slight shift from a few people around the table, unsure whether to laugh or be annoyed – Arthur knows they are waiting to take their cue from him.

He laughs. "You're right, you've got me," he grins as he sits down. "I'm doing it for the benefits. Better parking and all." The few uncertain people within ear shot titter a little at the comment, feeling a little better about finding amusement in the comment. "Idiot."

Merlin grins at him, and claps his shoulder. "See, confession is good for the soul."

"I do feel a hundred times lighter," Arthur replies seriously, shaking his head. "Anyway, I hope you remember Morgana." Arthur leans back in his seat to reveal the dark-haired beauty, who had been watching the exchange knowingly.

Merlin throws him a withering look. "Contrary to popular belief, I am not an idiot." He then smiles at Morgana (and ignores Arthur "I'll believe that when I see it," and his curse when Merlin pinches his side). "Pleased to meet you, sorry about earlier, some morons forget that at the coffee longue, I have to work and can't sit around sipping coffee all day, unlike other people."

Arthur makes an offended noise, even as Morgana speaks over it. "It's fine. I've heard a lot about you, it's good to finally put a face to the name."

"Likewise, it seems you're the only person Arthur actually likes out of his family."

"'Like' is a very strong word," Arthur buts in, flashing his pearly whites at his sister and Merlin in turn.

Merlin rolls his eyes. "Don't be an arse Arthur." He turns his gaze back to Morgana. "Has he always been like this?"

"What stubborn, moronic and emotionally constipated? Yes, I'm afraid he has. He gets it from his father."

"We share the same father," Arthur reminds her, eyes flicking to Merlin to take in his mirth and smiling at what he sees.

"Yes, we do, and clearly I am the one that turned out better. It's why he hasn't had another child you know," she says to Merlin. "He has me, why improve perfection?" Arthur shakes his head, you almost couldn't tell she hates Uther from the way she's speaking now, but, then he supposed, she isn't as emotionally free as she claims either. She too has fallen prey to the Pendragon traits of keeping mum about emotions to most others.

"I can see the resemblance," Merlin tells him after, that same twinkle in his eye after Morgana had turned away to flirt with Leon. Arthur raises an eyebrow in question. "You're both horribly arrogant. Is that another trait from your father? He seems like a peach, by the way."

Arthur snorts and throws his napkin at the grinning man. "I dare you to say that to his face."

"Oh, so I'll be meeting the family then?" Merlin comments lightly, pushing the napkin back towards its owner. Arthur stares at him, blinking and rattling off a drink he wants to the waiting server without taking his eyes off Merlin. There is a gleam in those blue eyes that Arthur is sure he recognises, but hasn't seen nearly as often as he used to. Merlin is quietly smiling; head tilted a little, watching as Arthur watches him.

"There's a possibility," he says carefully, levelly, gauging the reaction, "that you just might make the cut." Merlin only keeps that small, soft smile on his face as he moves onto another branch of conversation.

The rest of the celebratory dinner – delayed by a few weeks due to family and other arrangements – passed without further incident. They are just finishing up desert when Lancelot grabs everyone's attention with a chime of cutlery against glass.

"We wanted to say thanks to everyone coming tonight and to mention son or two things. Mine is for Arthur."

Arthur halts his conversation with Merlin about the cougar aunt and her endeavours to latch her claws into Lance's cousin throughout dinner, and looks up questioningly.

"We've been friends for years," Lancelot starts when he has Arthur attention. "And I want you to be my best man."

Arthur blinks before grinning. "Of course. Don't be put out when I outshine you though, Lance. Green never has been your colour." Lance laugh, a deep, proper laugh and moves around the table to clasp his friend by the hand.

"Thanks mate," he says, squeezing the blonds shoulder as well before returning to his seat. Gwen was next, announcing her choice of Maid of honour – Morgana beside them grinned brightly, and clapped her hand together once.

"I'd love to!" she exclaims, beaming at her friend and launching into a discussion across the table about the other bridesmaids and possible ideas. Lance just looks between them with a look of amusement and Arthur shares his look.

"You better not be expecting me to do anything like that." He nods his head in the girls' direction and Lance chuckles.

"If I have to hear it, so do you."

"It's your wedding," Arthur says in a voice that most definitely is not a whine. "You have to know. I don't." Lancelot just shrugs and Arthur falls back into his seat, most definitely not pouting.

"Quit pouting like a girl," Merlin comments slyly, but there is something in his tone that is a bit off. Arthur straightens and glances at the dark-haired man beside him, who had been, before he noticed Arthurs gaze a few microseconds after Arthur looked at him, staring at his mouth. There is a faint blush colouring his cheeks and tops of his ears now.

Well, damn. Merlin might be oblivious but Arthur is not. He smiles to himself.

"Merlin?" he pitches his voice a tone lower, leaning towards the man in an attempt to not be overheard – Morgana luckily is too engrossed in her conversation of colours and dress styles to take notice.

"Hmm?" That is also a tad odd in sound, a little too high to be natural.

"You are coming to dinner with me, tomorrow night. I'm getting you at seven – wear something smart."

Merlin eyes, which had been staring just over his shoulder, bounce over to his face.

"Now hold on, you massive prat, you can't just commandeer me –" Arthur cuts off the tirade with a small smile, not that Merlin's heart had been in it anyway.

"I can and I will."

Merlin sighs, shaking his head. "Fine," he concedes, sounding sulky, even as a smile twitches the corners of his lips. "But you are paying."

Arthur hums his contented agreement.

*I say this to my dad all the time. I also threaten to kick his sticks away from him/pop the wheels off his wheelchair. He then says he is going to run over my toes and/or chases me down the street, veering off at the last second so he doesn't actually run into me.

Bless him.

I think sometimes people must think I am an abuser of the disabled. xD I enjoyed writing this part actually. I hope you enjoyed reading it just as much.