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

Notes: *ahem* SORRY FOR THE DELAY! I had a lack of motivation this past week or two. Forgive me.

Oh my god! I can't believe this is ending! I am very proud of this work, I think. At some point, I may look back and cringe, like I do when I look back at 'Black Flames' (*shudders*), but for the moment I am proud aha.

Thank you all for all your lovely reviews and favourite-ing and everything. Thank you for reading and sticking with it and all that jazz. I write for myself yes, but I write for you guys more and just wow. Thank you all. It's been a pleasure.

Until next time, ay?

The Wedding

[6/6]

The ceremony had been a beautiful affair. Outside in the courtyards of the Du Lac's ancestral home – a building that was stunning in all its upper-class, expensive luxury which made Merlin nose wrinkle and his eyes roll – Gwen and Lancelot had 'tied the knot,' cradled by a pretty white arch laced with white roses and the sun blessing the event with its presence.

Morgana had stunned in a well fitting purple strapless dress, her long black curls cascading down her right shoulder and modest make-up. Arthur had to force himself to ignore the rather inappropriate wink she sent Leon's way as she sashayed past and all the implications instead chanced a glance over his left shoulder to Merlin who was grinning knowingly at him. The boy had nodded his head at Morgana and smiled appraisingly, before turning those eyes on Arthur to watch his reaction.

Arthur's hand did not tighten on his stick in a spark of jade jealousy as Merlin laughed silently at him. Rolling his eyes, Arthur had then turned his gaze to the bride, who had transformed from an understatedly pretty girl, into a radiant beauty who caused even Arthur's eyes to follow her – although it was, admittedly, in the same kind of abstract appreciation of beauty has he had for Morgana and not the openly stunned looks of say, Will.

Lancelot had been beaming the entire time, and although he may deny it later, Arthur knows he saw the welling of tears in his eyes and is certain it wasn't just him who heard the cracking in his voice as he recited his vows.

And now the ceremony and wedding breakfast is over (including the bloody speech he had had to write a few nights before. Merlin had been over as he had done it, distracting him and laughing over his shoulder before convincing him that there were other things to attend to. The same behaviour had continued today, Arthur could see him outside in his periphery chuckling into his hand), people have congregated in the dining hall. A DJ has set up at one end of the room and a grouping of tables in the other, leaving enough room for dancing. The double doors to the right, near the DJ, open up into a games' room with a fully stocked bar where Lancelot's parents have stocked up enough alcohol to ensure each and every guest gets more than adequately slaughtered if they so wish.

Arthur is sitting at one of the tables closest to the dance floor, watching the newly married couple take their first dance. They whisper to each other, words and sentiments that no one else can hear over the music, that make both laugh and Gwen blush prettily. He watches them with a quiet kind of envy, watching Lancelot's legs and feet with wistfulness he doesn't often indulge in before a hand sliding onto his shoulder distracts him.

He doesn't often think about his disability like he had before. Merlin interruption in his life, a whirlwind really of personality, teasing and a sheer determinism to not let Arthur's disability get in the way, has all but fully cured him. Insecurity still plagues him, but it doesn't niggle anymore, just a assign whisper that doesn't cut as deep. He does more with his days then he had before, egged on by Merlin, who doesn't say he is proud or happy, but has a certain look in his eye whenever Arthur tells him about his day. It's nice, he thinks, in a kind of twee way not wholly acceptable for a Pendragon.

"You scrub up rather well," comes Merlin's teasing voice before he moves around Arthur, drags out a seat and sits down.

"So do you," Arthur says. He doesn't take in Merlin's outfit, he had done that earlier, eyes shamelessly skimming his lovers' body, taking in the white shirt and skinny black tie that Merlin – king of old tops, worn jumpers and baggy jeans – had definitely borrowed, and the black trousers that were different from the ones he had worn to dinner on their first date, or any date since then. Arthur feels a little cheated he has never seen these trousers before, they accentuate Merlin's rather pleasant arse beautifully.

Although now, Merlin has now loosened his tie and undone a few buttons at his neck to reveal more milky white skin. Which is just unfair.

When Arthur drags his eyes back up from the tempting display, Merlin is grinning at him with a look in his eyes that says he knows exactly what distracted him. Arthur clears his throat.

"Where's Will?"

Merlin shrugs, glancing around. "I have no idea, probably trying to chat someone up, probably. He is allergic to monogamy." Arthur stifles a small, mocking grin quickly – Will and he will never get along. They both vie for Merlin's attention, preening when they win and sulking when they don't. It's a tag-of-war with Merlin in the middle. He usually just steps back and watches with exasperated fondness, and stepping in when things get a little to troublesome with threats. He doesn't know what he says to Will, but after the reprimanding warning, Will is always flushing a little so Arthur can only guess it's something Merlin knows that maybe Will doesn't want his mother to know. He threatens Arthur with sleeping on the sofa – which he had challenged before and found out that it wasn't as idle as he believed. What smarted the most was that it had been his own sofa.

Both threats however, whatever Will's may be, are more often than not enough to quieten them into a cold politeness.

Arthur makes a non-committal noise and Merlin smiles. "I know you don't like him, Arthur, but one of you needs to the bigger man so to speak, and Will won't. He has the mentality of a five year old."

Arthur raises an eyebrow. "It goes without saying that I am the bigger man, Merlin."

Merlin snorts. "Prat," he says fondly, moving his chair so that he is no longer sitting with his back to the dance floor. Lancelot is now dancing with his mother and Gwen with her brother. Others have filtered onto the dance floor as well, guests moving with their partners or friends, laughing and grinning – some are a little unstable even now, obviously enjoying the wine and drinks offered. Music with beats found more commonly in clubs mix with the more cheesy numbers that are typical of a party.

"It was a nice ceremony. I'm happy for them," Merlin says. Sentiment has always been his forte more than Arthur's. He has the same kind of starry-eye look that would look more at home on an adolescent females face than a grown mans'.

"Got wedding fantasies Merlin?"

Merlin flashes a grin without looking away from the dance floor. "I think you'd look amazing in a dress Arthur."

"I would not be the bride, Merlin. We both know that."

"I dunno, I did see you shed a little tear at Moulin Rouge." Merlin doesn't dodge the playful punch to his shoulder quick enough. "Fuck you."

That cheeky grin should be banned. "Only if you ask nicely," Merlin throws back at him even as Gwen sweeps over to them.

"Dance with me, Merlin," she asks, cheeks flushed with pleasure and hand extended. Merlin smiles and takes it although Arthur can see the slight panic in his movements. "I expect a dance with you to, Mr. Pendragon," she continues. Arthur laughs and nods his head in agreement.

"Whatever the bride wishes." She beams before dragging Merlin to the dance floor, who looks back at Arthur and looks panicky. Arthur simply raises his glass at him and smirks even as Merlin shakes his head at him, mouthing punishments before Gwen spins him around, swinging their arms and encouraging Merlin to move.

"Arthur, mate." Lance is a little merry, Arthur can tell by the way his hand slaps a little too heavily on his shoulder and how his grin is wider than normal – of course that could just be a side-effect of a die-hard romantic finally getting married to the woman he has pined over since they first met.

Arthur claps his own hand over his friends, before letting it fall and watching as Lancelot leans against the table. His dark eyes are on the dance floor, namely, his new wife and Merlin – who has all the grace of a two legged cat, but is laughing good-naturedly along with Gwen who is undoubtedly making comments.

"I can't believe we've finally done it." his eyes are shining and Arthur wonders if sometime tonight he will get the 'you're-my-best-friend-I-love-you' speech. "I bloody love that woman."

"I know," Arthur smiles. "We're all happy for you."

Lancelot makes a pleased noise and nods his head. "What about you and Merlin, then?" Lancelot moves towards Arthur to presumably nudge him, but misjudges the distance and staggers a little. "He's met the folks and everything. How'd your father take it."

Arthur shrugs. "As well as he could at such an event. He had a few choice words afterward, but Merlin held his own." There is a smugness that Lancelot recognises, and a fierce kind of pride that he doesn't, at least not when applied to people outside of Arthur's family or himself. He hadn't heard him speak of a partner in such a way at least – but then, Lancelot has never really met more than one or two of Arthur's partners.

And it's then that Lancelot really takes in his friend. On the surface there seems to be no difference – he is still proud and egotistical, but there is a strangeness there, a newness that Lancelot has seen only a few times before.

He smiles. He should've seen this really. Merlin brings it out in everyone.

Lancelot leans over his friend, who is smiling faintly at Merlin, who is dancing in an inexplicable way and laughing, even as he glances to the side to catch Arthur's eye. "You love him."

It isn't a question.

Arthur straightens, frowning a little at Lancelot. "I think it's a bit early for that."

"It's been a couple of months." Lancelot settles back again. "But you do you know. He loves you too, I reckon."

Arthur rolls his eyes. "What, now you're married you're an expert on relationships?"

Lancelot shakes his head. "Nope, but I do know a lot about you. And besides, he is the only one you have invited back to meet your father."

"I needed a date," he argues.

"There are plenty of women you could've chosen, you have before."

Arthur pulls a face. "They would've... bored me. Merlin is good for entertainment."

"I bet that's not all he is good at," Lancelot comments mildly, smirking a little. Arthur starts. Lancelot, despite being friends with both Arthur and Gwaine has never really been one for innuendo, even when drunk. But then the surprise fades and the old, familiar pike of jealousy that he has since learnt to control since the few relationships he had when he was younger, flares a little.

"Settle down boy, I'm a married man," Lancelot laughs. "Possessive bastard." Lancelot smiles a little, gazing at his friend. He has come a far way since his accident, the first few months having been filled with a desolate depression. Since Merlin, he has only improved further, no longer exaggerated the attention he may or may not get, going out and doing things – like joining a wheelchair basketball team to keep up fitness and accompanying Merlin and Will on one or two of their thrill seeking adventures. He has a sense of calmness about him that Lancelot hasn't seen for a while yet, a sense of contentment and achievement he hasn't seen since Arthur took his first steps after the accident in physical therapy.

"He's good for you, Arthur. Don't let your fear of – well, whatever it is you fear – get in the way." Lancelot straightens, and he smiles. "Now, I am going to reclaim my wife. You better get up there dancing soon, or I'll drag you up." Lancelot flashes a smile.

Arthur watches pensively, as Merlin concedes his hold on Gwen, claps Lancelot on the shoulder as he undoubtedly congratulates them one more time before he turns and smiles at Arthur.

Love, huh?

It's far into the evening, and Arthur has stuck to the soft drinks. But he has watched with amusement as Will and Lancelot and Elyan and anyone else who wants to plies Merlin with more alcohol and the dark haired man gets more and more giggly and uncoordinated. He leans heavily into Arthur, who is leaning in turn against the bar, and laughs at a comment made by someone neither Merlin nor Arthur has ever met before.

Arthur has, in the past hour or so, despite watching with mirth, swapping the alcoholic beverages people get him and replacing them with a simple coca-cola. After all, it wouldn't do for Merlin to pass out this evening when he is wearing those bloody trousers. Even his odd flailing dance doesn't detract from the niceness of those trousers and his bum.

Arthurs hand is around his waist as an extra support as Merlin's legs seem to have a mind of their own and absent fingers trace a short line over hips that are still a bit too bony for Arthur's comfort. The boy is soberly well and his words are no longer slurred even though his eyes still retain a glaze not unlike the kind he get during other activities or the faint flush of his cheeks.

The conversation is flowing surprisingly well for a group of decidedly drunk people, and Arthur mostly stays out of it – the twisted logic of drunkards will only turn a sober man insane – only presses a kiss to Merlin's temple once or twice to get his attention on what drink he'd like.

It doesn't take long for the girls of the group to bring up the conversation of sex – or lack of it – with their boyfriends or ex-boyfriends and the two other men (both boyfriends) shaking their heads as their girlfriends gossip, making indignant noises or poking fun at each other.

"You two are so cute," one girl (Arthur thinks she is single, but he isn't sure) coos to Merlin. "If you weren't taken I would eat you up. Same for your boyfriend. All the cute guys are either gay or taken."

Merlin laughs. "Don't tell him that, he has got a big enough head all ready." One of the men makes a comment no one else but his girlfriend hears. But they all hear the admonishment. But neither of the insulted men rises to the bait. Arthur has long since gotten over his sexuality, and Merlin just couldn't care less.

There is however, one comment that gets Arthur's attention and his hackles raised, ready for a fight.

"You talking about sex with a cripple, doubt he could get it up." The men who'd spoken had been hanging around the bar for nearly the whole night and staggered over as if a part of their group but hung on the outside. His words are slurred, almost indistinguishable and eyes hazy and unfocused. The girls, and the boyfriend who hadn't spoken before surprisingly, instantly rise to Arthur's defence.

Arthur clears his throat and Merlin looks at him, touching his hand as if to remind him that yes, it was insulting, but that they are at a wedding. He probably suspected Arthur to react the way he would've before, in the way he was considering now – which was to show him exactly how capable this fucking cripple was by beating the shit out of him. But Arthur only smiled at his lover before staring the man in front of him.

"You say that, and yet who is here with someone? You might want to stop the drinking or you will be unable to 'get it up.' Or is that why you are drinking?" It isn't necessarily the words that makes the man shrink back into the shadows, but the cold tone in which they are spoken and the glare that accompanies them. Arthur Pendragon is no fool to be cowed by idiots – he had once been a prosecutor of the highest standard, known for the way he could break down witnesses and criminals in the courtroom – and he does not take kindly to insults, especially by someone so much lower than himself.

Perfect, cool delivery of an insult and those eyes that are usually so warm, are suddenly ice, all the scorn and derision in the world focused on one person. Looking on, Merlin is certain the man must now feel about two feet tall. The way that he cringes and steps back certainly says so. When the man looks away, so does Arthur, looking back around the circle of people that had been talking before and continuing starting up another conversation as if nothing happened. A small part of Arthur, the insecure part, flinched at the comment, those old whispers about people never wanting a cripple; no one would want the hassle or the trouble flares for but a moment before Arthur remembers the warm, pliant body against him.

There is such a person and he holds him now. He smiles just as Merlin turns his head slightly and grins at him. There is a look in his eyes that says he is trying to be reprimanding, but can't quite bring himself to do it. Instead, Merlin just laughs, shakes his head and kisses Arthur's cheek before delving into the conversation of bad presents once more.

His hand, which had been used so exaggerate his words, however, stays on Arthur's.

The words Lancelot spoke earlier have been on Arthur's mind for the whole evening. They didn't detract from the night, or distract him, but they were there. Wonderings and musing flittering through his head like butterflies whenever he looked at Merlin, or Gwen and Lancelot or any of the other couples that attended. He has loved before – he loved Jason when he was younger, loved Tristan and Kay as well. He has loved before and has no fear against it.

Well, now that he has thought about it – he has never told someone directly that he loves them. He has made gestures, said it in a round-about way, but never those three condemning words in succession. He doesn't know why. He has felt love but never vocalised it.

But that doesn't mean anything. There is no fear there, it is just the way that he is – Uther has never been one to declare love for people either.

As for taking Merlin to meet his father and the she-troll, well he hadn't been lying. The girls he could've invited would have bored him and the girls he might've wanted to invite are already partnered up and so both of them would have to endure questioning from his father and Catrina.

Merlin is entertainment – the way he fumbled through the formalities in his country-bumpkin kind of way, winning smiles and endearments simply for being himself was funny. And those that didn't approve, Merlin simply grinned at anyway, shrugging it off as nothing – which is probably the worst snub those kinds of people could get. He is amusing to watch and Arthur can't help but laugh at his antics.

He wasn't afraid of Merlin meeting his father. He knows that whilst Merlin looks deceiving with his innocent smiles and bright eyes, he really is more observant then people give him credit for. He is stronger than people would think and has a quicker and sharper tongue then most would expect. He never feared for Merlin like he would've for the others, because Merlin is not easily cowed by intimidation and he had proven as such afterwards when Uther Pendragon had tried to throw his weight around and govern Arthur's lie and choice as he had done when Arthur was a boy.

And Uther had been impressed, although he would never admit it. Arthur had seen the disappointment in his eyes that Arthur had spilled his secret and no chance of a daughter-in-law, but there had been a faint approval in his eyes as well when Merlin held up under his razor tongue and also not interfered when Arthur and his father butted heads.

Kay would've interfered and lost any respect Uther may have had for him, because obviously interfering would infer that he believed Arthur not strong enough to fight his own battles. Tristan would have crumbled eventually under his fathers' glares and comments, snide things that Merlin deflects easily but Tristan would've taken to heart. And there isn't much point considering Jason, he had loved him yes but that was never meant to last – Arthur acknowledged that even back then.

"Arthur, let's go home." Merlin tugs him out of his thoughts, forehead resting on his shoulder. "I am bloody knackered." Arthur smiles and nods.

The pair makes their rounds, saying goodbye to whoever is left out on the dance floor and to the happy couple before making their way out to the car park. Arthur considers Merlin, goofy, childish Merlin. It's been a few months since that first meeting in the pub, and they are still working through things. They haven't probably argued, but they have bickered and snapped at each other. Merlin is strangely attractive when he is angry, and Arthur does admit that he has a little game of how quickly he can turn Merlin from angry to horny. He has it just over a minute at the moment, but he will succeed in getting to under a minute.

He is annoying at times, Arthur won't deny. His optimism sometimes conflicts with Arthurs' determination to look firmly at reality, and he doesn't bend under Arthur's will, which is something Arthur is used to with the few idiots he has dated between the few gems (although Kay is no longer considered one of those). He is bloody minded and stubborn as a mule and doesn't let Arthur get away with all that he is used to, but Arthur can acknowledge it is probably for the best.

Merlin challenges him, pushes him, and accepts him. He encourages Arthur, interested him and, most importantly, keeps that interest alive. He makes mistakes, but so does Arthur. They talk through those mistakes, they talk about everything. With Merlin, Arthur has never quite been so open – he has never exposed such weakness to a partner because then they have all the power, and after his father need to control him in his early years before Arthur bit back, Arthur cannot stand it.

But unlike Kay, and Tristan who was at the other end of the scale, there is no power play. Instead there is a flow of power and shifts and alters when need be, and otherwise stays stable. As strange as it is, Merlin, the boy wonder, has made Arthur grow up. His possessive nature and jealousy is no longer as furious as before, he no longer feels so self-conscious or the insufferable pride that he had once more. His pride is of a different calibre now, is no longer a variation of arrogance.

"You really need to oil those callipers of yours," Merlin comments as he plugs in his seatbelt and rests his head back against the headrest, eyes closed.

Arthur smiles and studies the man beside him, the curve of his neck, the slightly unfortunate ears, the flawless skin –

"I love you. Idiot." Merlin deserves that much – besides, he doubts Merlin would get the more subtle ways Arthur had employed before.

Merlin's head shifts so that those eyes are focused on him and he smiles. "Ditto, prat," he grins, his hand resting on Arthur's thigh. "Now, about those callipers?"

Arthur rolls his eyes and pulls out of the parking space. He never told Kay or Tristan or Jason he loved them, because he hadn't been in love with them. He never brought those men to his family home and introduced them to his father with confidence and trust, because he didn't have confidence in them or trust in them. He couldn't be sure they'd stand tall under his fathers' scrutiny.

He never done those things, because he never felt about them what he does for Merlin. And the stupid sentimental part of him, brought forth by the aforementioned man, doesn't think he will ever find someone quite like Merlin again, and he never wants to.

The End.

And so it finishes. I HOPE IT DOESN'T DISAPPOINT! If it does tell me. I am a bit iffy on it, so it may get rewritten anyway. I will rewrite sooner if you guys are also disappointed.

Um, yeah. Just thanks for sticking with me through this, is really appreciated. I know I said I would post a fourteen part story on here, but I think I'll do the 6 parter first. It's a humour/romance, with Older!Merlin – not obscenely older called 'All's fair.' But yes. Thank you for reading this, I hope this ending hasn't disappointed, if you think it has please tell me, I am considering rewriting it anyway so you won't offend me.

Thanks again. :]