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gwyllionTitle: I Am Gwen (the cutest cat on the Internet!)
Author: gwylliondream
Genre: Modern au
Pairing: Arthur/Merlin
Rating: NC-17
Words: 58,347
Author’s Notes: I Am Gwen was written for![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
paperlegends and as a kinkme_merlin fill for this prompt.
Disclaimer: I did not create these characters. No disrespect intended. No profit desired, only muses.
Comments: Comments are welcome anytime! Thanks so much for reading!
“Arthur,” Merlin said, his mouth hanging open, oblivious to the other riders in the elevator.
Arthur smiled weakly at him, but Merlin’s brain screamed, “Avoid! Avoid! Avoid!”
Merlin couldn’t think fast enough, so his reflexes took over to remove him from the danger outside the elevator door. He frantically pressed every button on the panel, his eyes scanning for the “Close Door” button as each number lit up with an insistent push of his finger.
“Merlin,” Arthur said, shoving his hand between the doors, preventing them from closing, their mirrored surface reflecting Merlin’s panic back to him.
Merlin couldn’t avoid the stares from the remaining occupants of the elevator. He bit his lower lip and clenched the strap to his messenger bag tightly. Despite the angry murmurs of the riders, Arthur boarded the elevator and punched the number forty for his floor.
“Going up,” Arthur said, giving a confident smile to the disgruntled riders.
“No! I need to make my delivery,” Merlin said, adrenaline kicking in. He jammed his hand between the doors and prised them open again, stepping out of the elevator and into the chilly hallway.
“Excuse me,” Arthur said to the elevator’s occupants as he followed Merlin into the hall of the thirty-ninth floor.
The riders acted quickly to ensure the door finally shut, before they were subjected to any further delays.
Merlin strode down the hallway, the plush carpet giving way beneath his feet. His eyes scanned the numbers on each door, looking for number eleven. He couldn’t believe he had run into Arthur on his first trip back to The Devonshire since their date. What was Arthur doing here? He wasn’t even on his own floor. Merlin could feel his heart pounding in his ears.
“Merlin, wait,” Arthur called, seemingly right on his heels.
Finally, the gold plated eleven marked the door in front of Merlin. He sighed with relief and knocked four times with the brass knocker, ignoring Arthur, although it was difficult when Arthur ran up to Merlin and leaned against the wall next to his client’s door.
“You’ve not answered my calls,” Arthur said, panting from his run down the hallway.
Merlin thought he could hear footsteps coming to the door of thirty-nine eleven. Still, he was amused by Arthur’s breathlessness, his exquisitely muscled chest rising and falling, his hair sleep-tousled as if he had just gotten out of bed. Merlin clenched his jaw and averted his eyes to the ceiling instead. No, he hadn’t respond to Arthur’s calls. It was too little, too late. Merlin knew enough to quit while he was ahead. Arthur hadn’t tried calling him until Sunday. For all Arthur cared, Merlin could have been lying in the gutter on Friday night. He could have been attacked by a pack of stray dogs who roamed the streets at night looking for distracted bicycle messengers. Not to mention that Arthur really had led Merlin on—yet another reason that Merlin was pissed off at him.
“Every time I called Kilgharrah Kourier, that witch Freya sent a different courier to me, when I only wanted to see you again,” Arthur said, his voice wavering.
“Uh,” Merlin said, “I told her to do that.”
Arthur let his finger trace a path down the strap of Merlin’s messenger bag, from Merlin’s shoulder and across his chest to where a smattering of dark hair lurked beneath the Lycra. “I’d like to explain,” he said.
It finally dawned on Merlin that maybe, just maybe, Arthur wasn’t calling to break it off with him, after all. However improbable it was to think such a thing, it made Merlin fight back an urge to smile.
Just then, the door at thirty-nine eleven opened and an older woman peered out at them.
“Good afternoon, Ms. Annis,” Arthur said with a smile.
“Are you all set now?” Ms. Annis asked.
“Yes, thanks for everything,” Arthur said, giving Ms. Annis a little wave.
“No problem,” Ms. Annis said, closing the door behind her.
“But I have a delivery for you,” Merlin said, waving the manila envelope in front of the door as it closed.
Arthur folded his arms across his chest. “Sorry, Merlin. The envelope is empty.”
“No it isn’t,” Merlin said, feeling the envelope for its contents. “Freya wouldn’t send me out here for nothing.”
“Go ahead and open it,” Arthur said.
“Of course I’m not going to open it,” Merlin said. He held the envelope up to the light from a sconce that illuminated the hallway. “That’s one of our rules as bicycle messengers. It’s confidential. We can’t just open an envelope whenever we feel like it.”
Merlin stared at the envelope and felt how thin it was. That didn’t mean anything, though. A single document might only be the thickness of a piece of tissue paper… but surely even tissue paper is bulkier than this, Merlin thought.
In a flash, Arthur pushed himself off the wall and grabbed the envelope from Merlin’s hands. Merlin was caught off-guard from staring at the envelope against the light of the sconce. He felt it slip between his fingers and out of his possession.
“Give it back,” Merlin shouted. He’d lose his job over this for sure.
Arthur began to pick at the seal.
“You can’t do that,” Merlin yelled. He slapped at Arthur’s hands to get him to stop opening the envelope.
Arthur yanked the envelope out of Merlin’s reach and began to run down the hall with it held high. Merlin’s arm got caught in the strap of his messenger bag and he dropped it, leaving it in the middle of the hallway as he tore after Arthur.
When Arthur reached the end of the hall, he ducked into an alcove that had been arranged into a sitting area with a pair of plush club chairs, a low table, and a commanding view across the harbor. Merlin caught up to Arthur there and tried to wrest the envelope from him. He threw his arms around Arthur’s waist, tackling him. Arthur was caught off balance and tripped over the leg of one chair. He turned in mid air, trying to shake Merlin off as both men crashed to the floor.
Merlin was grateful for the carpeting beneath his knees and the helmet on his head. He landed with his shoulder smashing into Arthur’s middle, knocking the wind out of him. Over the past few weeks, he had imagined what it would feel like to roll around on the floor with Arthur. Unfortunately, he had very different circumstances in mind, most of which involved nakedness and a good deal of moaning. He scrambled over Arthur’s body, fingers digging into Arthur’s crimson polo shirt, but it was too late. Arthur had already worked his thumb under the envelope’s flap while Merlin reached for it unsuccessfully. Arthur tore the glue seal open.
“See?” Arthur said from his position, stretched out on the floor. He blew into the envelope so Merlin could see what it contained.
It was empty.
Merlin got to his knees and threw himself into one of the chairs, his chest heaving from the struggle.
“You’re still not supposed to open it. It wasn’t for you, even if Freya did set me up,” Merlin said, unbuckling his helmet and shoving it off his head. His hair was damp and matted with sweat.
Arthur pushed himself off the floor and knelt at the side of Merlin’s chair. “Sorry,” he said, panting. “I knew you wouldn’t open it for yourself.”
“Ms. Annis was in on this?” Merlin asked.
Arthur nodded. “She’s a good neighbor.”
“And Freya?” Merlin asked again, more seriously.
Arthur seemed to be undecided about what to do with his hands. He folded them beneath his chin and leaned onto the armrest of Merlin’s chair.
“She helped me. But it was only because you were such a bitch to her at work this week,” Arthur said.
“And let me guess—Gwaine isn’t hurt, is he?” Merlin said, encircling Arthur’s wrist with his hand. “I thought I needed to get to the hospital right away to make sure he was okay. You know he’s my friend.”
“I didn’t think you wanted to see me again,” Arthur said, lowering his eyes. “It was the only thing I could think of to do.”
“You’re a very bad man,” Merlin said, squeezing Arthur’s wrist.
“You’ve got very nice friends,” Arthur said, brightening. “They care about you.”
Merlin shifted in the chair and turned to face Arthur.
“Oh, sure, if you count a talent for deception as a good quality in a friend,” Merlin said.
“I know you’re angry with me,” Arthur said. He rotated his wrist so his palm pressed against Merlin’s palm. “Can you give me another chance?”
Merlin wanted to be angry. He wanted to scream. He had felt awful all week long, believing that Arthur had left him alone at the end of their date because Merlin had mentioned his love for cats one too many times.
“I wrote you off when you got off the train, and when you didn’t call me the next day,” Merlin said.
“I couldn’t call you,” Arthur said. “The only number I had was for Kilgharrah Kourier, and I kept getting that infernal answering machine. I left a message each day. I know Freya gave them to you.”
“She did, witch that she is,” Merlin said. A flood of warmth rushed over him. Perhaps Arthur really didn’t mean to leave him as he did. “I don’t really know what happened. Did I misunderstand you? We were on a date, weren’t we?”
“Sorry, it’s my fault,” Arthur said, pressing the back of Merlin’s hand to his cheek. Merlin felt Arthur’s shaky breath on his wrist.
“Was it all my talk about cats?” Merlin asked.
Arthur closed his eyes. “It was,” Arthur said. “But it’s not like you think.”
“I don’t know what to think anymore,” Merlin said. He was tempted to draw his hand away but Arthur’s fingers pressed tighter.
“I panicked,” Arthur said.
Arthur turned his head slightly, and Merlin felt Arthur’s lips touching the back of his hand for a kiss. It was gentle and slow, filled with a caution.
“Let me make it up to you,” Arthur said.
Merlin looked into Arthur’s eyes, shining and sincere.
“Let me,” Arthur said. “We can go upstairs right now if you’d like. I have something I want to show you.”
Merlin wasn’t going to let Arthur off that easily. What did Arthur want to show him? His etchings? He wasn’t going to fall for that, despite his rapidly hardening cock that his bike shorts would do nothing to conceal. He took a breath and tried to gather his thoughts as he watched the boats sailing in the harbor. “I’m a mess, I’ve been riding the streets all day, and I’ve got to get the bike back to the garage for Leon tonight—”
“Come back here then, after you’re finished,” Arthur said. “I’ll make you dinner, whatever you’d like.”
Merlin weighed his options. He could get up right now, ride the elevator to the lobby, and never see Arthur again, or he could take Arthur up on his offer and see where the night might lead them.
“You know I’m vegetarian?” Merlin asked.
Arthur grinned. “I got the feeling you were. You love animals so much, it only makes sense,” he said. “I have some fresh asparagus. And I make a mean pasta primavera.”
Merlin couldn’t help but laugh.
Arthur let go of his hand and reached up to stroke his cheek with the back of his knuckles before tracing Merlin’s smile with the pad of his thumb.
When Arthur rose up onto his knees, Merlin leaned forward. He speared his fingers through Arthur’s hair as their lips brushed. Arthur made a little moaning noise as he opened his mouth to allow Merlin’s tongue to sweep inside. Merlin clenched his fists, tugging Arthur closer still by his silky hair.
The chime sounded from the elevator down the hall as the doors opened to let the riders out. Merlin couldn’t care less if someone wandered to where he and Arthur kissed among the chairs and table that had been shoved askew while they struggled over the envelope.
It was Arthur who first broke the kiss to rest his forehead against Merlin’s while they caught their breath.
Merlin leaned back and let his eyes flicker over Arthur’s face. “What have you been doing this week?” Merlin asked. “You look terrible.”
Arthur pouted adorably. “I haven’t been sleeping well, I can assure you of that,” he said.
Merlin could hear footsteps trodding down the hallway, followed by the jingling of keys.
“Hey, is this your bag?” a man called from outside an apartment door.
“Oh shit,” Merlin said. “My bag.” He got to his feet and ruffled Arthur’s hair before adjusting himself and trotting down the hall.
Behind him, Arthur pushed the chair out of his way and followed Merlin, picking up his bike helmet off the floor.
“It’s mine,” Merlin called. “I’ve got it.”
Merlin slung the bag over his shoulder as the apartment door closed. He felt Arthur set the bike helmet onto his head and slip his hands around his waist, a welcome touch of comfort after what had been a lonely week.
He realized that he could stay here, making out with Arthur in the hallway all night, but he still needed to get the bike back to Kilgharrah Kourier before he rushed home for a quick shower. Caving in to his desire now would only prolong the suspense.
Merlin took Arthur’s hand and led him to the elevator, pressing the up button. When the elevator arrived, Merlin hit the button for the fortieth floor. In the time it took for the elevator to go up one floor, Arthur had tugged the strap of Merlin’s messenger bag to pull him into another searing kiss. Merlin’s hands gripped tightly around Arthur’s biceps, thankful that no one was waiting for the elevator when the door opened again. Merlin hovered between the elevator doors, holding them open with his foot.
“I’ll see you soon,” Merlin said.
Arthur stepped out of the elevator and into the hall. “Take your time,” he said. “But hurry.”
Merlin laughed as the elevator door shut.
=^.^= )
“I hate you both!” Merlin shouted at Freya and Gwaine.
He had waved his gloved hand in front of the sensor to trigger open the door to Freya’s office before heading into the garage to turn his bike over to Leon.
Gwaine, who was sitting on top of Freya’s desk, burst into laughter.
“They’ve been waiting an hour for you to get back,” Leon said, nodding at the pair.
Merlin shook his head as he watched Freya high-five Gwaine through the glass door that had slid shut again. He came to a stop, touching a foot down to the stained pavement of the garage floor.
“They’re up to no good,” Merlin said, swinging his leg over the crossbar of his bike.
“Looks like it worked,” Leon said.
Merlin unbuckled his helmet and pulled it off his head.
“She’s all yours,” Merlin said brightly, letting go of the handlebars, so Leon could take the bike.
“Thanks, Merlin. It’s good to have you back,” Leon said.
Merlin walked to the sliding glass door and waved his arms for it to open again.
“Whoohoo!” he shouted as walked through the door, circling his arms as if he were flexing his biceps.
Gwaine and Freya applauded, no doubt relieved that their plan had worked, after spending a week dodging Merlin’s foul mood.
Merlin leaned over and kissed Freya on the cheek. “And thank you, my dear, for never paying attention to anything I ask of you.”
Freya did her best to be gracious, but then said, “It’s Friday night. Give up your bag so I can get out of here.”
Merlin ducked his head beneath the strap of his messenger bag and handed it to Freya. She pulled the manifest from its pocket and peered inside to make sure the bag was empty.
“And you look none worse for wear after your devastating accident,” Merlin said, punching Gwaine on the arm.
“You have no idea,” Gwaine said, sipping his iced coffee. “I felt bad about lying to you, but you’ve been an ass to me all week and I figured I had nothing to lose.”
“Well done, friend,” Merlin said.
“So, it worked?” Gwaine asked. “He doesn’t really hate you?”
“No,” Merlin said, grabbing Gwaine’s cup away from him and peeling off the lid. “He doesn’t hate me at all.”
Gwaine beamed. “What’s next? Did he ask you out again?”
Merlin raised the cup, and his eyebrows.
Gwaine nodded and Merlin chugged down a few swallows.
“Let’s go,” Merlin said, snapping the lid back onto the cup. “I need your help. I have a date tonight.”
“Tonight?” asked Gwaine.
“Goodnight, Freya!” Merlin called as he headed out through the sliding glass door with Gwaine in tow.
“He’s cooking for me,” Merlin said excitedly, as they walked down Tremont Street.
“I’m impressed,” Gwaine said.
“I need a shower. I need to floss. I need to pack a bag,” Merlin said. He turned around to make sure Gwaine wasn’t trailing too far behind him.
“What are you going to wear?” Gwaine asked as he hurried to catch up.
“I don’t know, but thank God I did laundry yesterday,” Merlin said.
“What are you thinking of? It’s casual, right?”
“I’ve got those plaid board shorts,” Merlin said.
“Those look stupid,” Gwaine said.
“What do you mean? They make me look hot,” Merlin said.
Gwaine rolled his eyes. “It’s a bathing suit. You can’t wear a bathing suit on a date.”
“Why not?”
“Wear those light shorts, the ones that are almost white. They’ll look good with a plain T-shirt,” Gwaine said as they dodged a car on Winter Street. “You have that black one.”
“Black?” Merlin asked.
“Sure, it’ll make your eyes pop,” Gwaine said. “And it matches your hair.”
“Seriously?” Merlin asked. “I knew I kept you around for a reason.”
“And wear a belt.”
Merlin took the stairs two at a time and unlocked the door to his apartment. Gwaine insisted on accompanying him just in case Merlin needed more fashion help. Merlin flipped the switch on the air-conditioning, pulled the clothes from his closet, and jumped into the shower. After a quick wank and an even quicker scrub, he emerged from the shower with a renewed sense of urgency. He didn’t want to keep Arthur waiting.
It seemed like the minutes had flown by. When he had left Arthur, Merlin thought it would take him an hour to get back to The Devonshire. Now, it would be closer to two hours later.
“Do you want something to eat before you go?” Gwaine asked, his voice muffled with his head in the refrigerator door.
“No, I told you he’s making me dinner. Vegetarian!” Merlin yelled to Gwaine from the bathroom.
Merlin decided against shaving. He was pressed for time. Besides, his hands were shaking so badly with nervous excitement that he’d look like he got in a fight with a feral cat if he tried to shave. He threw on his clothes and spent entirely too much time finger-combing his hair.
“Ready!” he said when he emerged from the bathroom.
Gwaine was at the kitchen counter, engrossed in something that played on Merlin’s laptop. He looked up and whistled at Merlin who spun around, wiggling his ass seductively in jest.
“What are you watching?” Merlin asked. He grabbed his drawstring bag off the handle to the bathroom door and began to stuff items into it. Condoms, a toothbrush, floss. He rummaged through his dresser drawers for a clean pair of underwear.
“That cat,” said Gwaine, stuffing grapes into his mouth from a bowl he had found in Merlin’s refrigerator.
“You are?” Merlin asked.
“She’s trying to get into the box, but it’s got these cardboard dividers in it,” Gwaine said, tossing a few more grapes into his mouth.
“Whoa! I can’t believe you! After all the shit you’ve given me?” Merlin asked in disbelief.
“She’s great. Now she’s pawing the dividers out of the way. You go, girl!”
“Oh, that reminds me,” Merlin said, shaking his head. He walked to the television and pulled a DVD off the shelf beneath it.
“What’s that?” Gwaine asked, looking up from the screen.
Merlin shook the DVD at Gwaine. “It’s Gwen. I burned a DVD of her YouTube uploads. I figure if Arthur’s really interested in me, he’ll need to know more about her,” Merlin said.
Gwaine silently arched an eyebrow at him.
Merlin deflated with a loud breath.
“You’re right,” Merlin said, his shoulders sagging when he looked at the DVD cover that he had meticulously designed and printed with titles for each of the YouTube postings.
“Isn’t that what got you into trouble with Arthur in the first place?” Gwaine asked.
Merlin bit his lip. Gwaine was right. But what could Merlin do? He could think of only one thing. “I swear to you Gwaine, I won’t pull it out until I’m absolutely sure that Arthur is okay with my….”
“Obsession?” Gwaine offered.
“Obsession. In fact, I can assure you that I won’t mention cats at all. Not a single word about cats… unless Arthur brings them up first. How’s that?” Merlin asked. He knew it was a promise he’d have to work hard to keep, but if it meant making amends with Arthur and having a chance with him, he’d do it.
“It seems like that would be impossible for you,” Gwaine said, turning his eyes back to the laptop. “Nice background wallpaper, by the way. How many times have you wanked to Gwen’s owner’s hand?”
“None of your business,” Merlin laughed.
“You’re hopeless,” Gwaine said, pitching a grape at Merlin, which he caught and ate.
“You underestimate me, Gwaine. I’m on my way,” Merlin said, shoving the DVD into his bag, just on the off chance that Arthur was a closeted Gwen fan. “Wish me luck.”
“You know,” Gwaine said, shaking his finger at the computer screen. “I bet if I studied these videos long enough, I could figure out exactly where they’re made.”
“Yeah, really?” Merlin asked. “Well, go for it. And lock up when you’re done. I doubt I’ll be back tonight.”
“Go get ‘em, tiger,” Gwaine said, taking his eyes off the screen long enough for Merlin to wave to him before heading out the door.
=^.^= )
“Hello,” Arthur said as he swung the door open. “I was beginning to think that you weren’t coming back.
Before Merlin could say anything, Arthur leaned forward and pressed his lips to Merlin’s, eliciting a surprised whimper from him.
As if they were on automatic pilot, Merlin’s hands went to Arthur’s shoulders. His heart raced with the knowledge that this was the very first time he would be inside Arthur’s apartment as a guest. It seemed so different now, with Arthur’s arms around his waist, his broad hands against the small of his back, drawing him closer.
Merlin let his palms drift to Arthur’s chest. He ran his hands over the fabric of Arthur’s polo shirt, feeling a nipple pebble beneath his fingers while they kissed. It reminded him that less than two hours ago, they were wrestling over the decoy envelope in the hallway downstairs.
“Oh, I brought this for you,” Merlin said breathlessly, when they broke away. He took the bottle wrapped in brown paper from the Boston Wine Exchange out of his drawstring bag and handed it to Arthur. “I didn’t know what you liked, so I went with a Pinot Gris.”
Arthur pulled the bottle from its wrapper and read the label. “King Estate,” he said, reading the label.
“It sounded good,” Merlin said. He hated to admit it, but Merlin could barely contain himself in the wine shop when he was confronted with the Gato Negro Sauvignon Blanc and the Fat Cat Cellar’s Pinot Grigio. He narrowly avoided selecting something more feline, remembering his promise to Gwaine.
“That does have a nice ring to it,” Arthur said. “Let’s get it into the chiller.”
Merlin set his bag on the hall table where Arthur had neatly stacked a dozen empty soda cases, broken down flat for recycling, Merlin guessed. Funny, he never thought of Arthur as a fan of Mountain Dew, and it made him realize how much more he wanted to learn about Arthur, now that they were speaking to each other again. Merlin figured the table was as good a place as any to leave his stuff. It wasn’t like he wanted to pull out the ‘I Am Gwen’ DVD already, and he complimented himself on his restraint. He followed Arthur into the kitchen, which he had only previously seen from the entryway.
“Can I get you a glass now, or would you rather wait for this to chill?” Arthur asked, his hand cupping Merlin’s shoulder and skimming downward to his elbow. “I have a bottle of Chardonnay open that’s already cold.”
“I’ll take a glass of what you have open,” Merlin said. The aroma of sautéed vegetables on the stove was heavenly. A pot of boiling water sent steam into the air. He stood in the doorway to the kitchen while Arthur went to the refrigerator for the bottle.
“Please make yourself at home,” Arthur said.
Merlin backed away from the door, wondering if he should give Arthur some space to cook. He wandered into the dining room, which was as sleek and modern as he had imagined, with four chairs arranged around a glass-topped table. Arthur had already set the table with real silver and cloth napkins. The overhead lamp had been dimmed to a romantic glow.
In the living room, Arthur had put a CD on, so music played softly through the apartment. The violin and piano arrangement sounded vaguely familiar to Merlin—something he had heard recently, although he couldn’t remember where. He was never one to listen to classical music—not since he was in high school, yet he remembered hearing this particular tune recently. He shrugged and decided not to worry about it. He had enough on his mind with spending the evening with Arthur.
“Cheers,” Arthur said, handing him a glass.
Merlin accepted the wine and tilted the glass to touch Arthur’s. “Cheers,” Merlin said.
“To second chances,” Arthur said, his blue eyes locked onto Merlin’s while he took a sip.
“To second chances,” Merlin agreed, trying not to shudder with anticipation under Arthur’s gaze. The wine was sweet on his tongue. He hoped that it would help him to relax a bit. He couldn’t help but think about how badly his last date with Arthur had ended, and he was committed to avoiding a repeat experience. This was to be a new beginning.
While the wine helped Merlin to calm down, he certainly didn’t want to get drunk. He needed to keep his wits about him so he could make sure to avoid mentioning cats—for the time being, at least. Gwaine was right. His exuberance about cats got him into trouble the first time around, and he’d avoid the subject at all costs tonight. After their skirmish in the neighbor’s hallway, Arthur had confessed that Merlin’s obsession with cats had something to do with their falling out last Friday. Merlin hoped they could get to the bottom of their misunderstanding so it didn’t happen again. Most of all, he hoped Arthur wasn’t one of those people who thought all cats were mean or sneaky, or that they’d steal a baby’s breath. He supposed he’d find out soon enough.
“You’ve got a great view,” Merlin said, noting the ships in the harbor, their masts shining with the last vestiges of the setting sun.
“You can almost smell the ocean,” Arthur said, stepping into place beside Merlin at the window. “Even up this high.”
Merlin sipped his wine while admiring the dizzying view of the city. He felt Arthur put a hand around his waist and he longingly leaned into it so he could feel the pressure of Arthur’s hand more firmly. Merlin let out a gasp when Arthur let his fingers inch down the front of Merlin’s shorts to his pocket.
“You’ve got your cellphone with you?” Arthur asked, squeezing the rectangle outlined by the fabric.
“Should I not?” Merlin asked, curious.
“Let’s have it,” Arthur said, slipping his hand inside the pocket to retrieve the device. He took a quick look at it before handing it to Merlin. “Go ahead, turn it on.”
Merlin was game for whatever Arthur had in mind. He unlocked his phone and handed it to Arthur, enjoying what the tickle of Arthur’s breath on his neck did to his cock.
Merlin watched while Arthur punched in a number with his perfectly manicured nails. Soon, the voicemail picked-up.
You have reached Arthur Pendragon, please leave a message and I’ll return your call.
“Hello Arthur,” Arthur said. “This is Merlin’s phone number. Now, you’ll never have to plead your case to Freya, Gwaine, or Mr. Kilgharrah ever again. Good luck to you.”
Merlin burst out laughing as Arthur ended the call. “Kilgharrah? You had his help too?”
“A little bit,” Arthur said, shaking his head and handing Merlin’s phone back to him. “I don’t know how you can work for him. I had no idea what he was talking about half the time.”
“You’re not the only one,” Merlin said, taking another sip of wine.
“Look,” Arthur said, skimming his fingertips along Merlin’s forearm. “I need to get back to the kitchen because I doubt a burnt dinner will impress you much. My father had varied taste in music. Why don’t you take a look through the CDs and see if there’s something you’d like?”
Merlin nodded at the extensive collection on the shelves. “I can do that,” he said.
As soon as Arthur left the room, Merlin slipped his phone back into his pocket and began to look for a CD.
From the collection of media on display, Arthur’s late father seemed to have a little of everything from Aerosmith to Ziani, all arranged in alphabetical order from top to bottom. Merlin figured it would be best to stick with classical. He knelt on the floor to get a closer look at the musicians who fell late in the alphabet. REM and Rachmaninoff, U2 and Uccellini, Van Halen and Vivaldi… Four Seasons would be appropriate, especially since the summer heat was ready to give way to fall. Merlin took the CD off the shelf.
As he stood up, he caught a glimpse of something wedged between the shelves and the stereo cabinet. Arthur seemed busy in the kitchen, arranging food on the plates. When Merlin was certain that Arthur wasn’t watching him, he let his fingers skim across the hardwood floor to retrieve the object. It was exactly what he thought it was at first glance—a baseball that had somehow rolled behind the shelves.
Squatting in front of the CDs, Merlin picked the ball up and held it in his hand. He thought it was strange for Arthur to have a baseball rolling around on the floor of his immaculate apartment.
This was no ordinary baseball.
It was the foul ball that had nearly hit Arthur during the Sox-Tiger’s game. Merlin was sure of it.
And there was hair… only a few strands of it… but definitely hair… clinging to the white leather where the ball had rested on the floor.
At Hunith’s house, Merlin had about a half-dozen balls that he had caught or snagged by chance over his lifetime of attending baseball games. He kept them on a shelf with his high school diploma and his college degree, as if they marked an important milestone in his life. Merlin knew Arthur wasn’t nearly as big a baseball fan as he was, but still the question of why Arthur would leave this ball on the floor behind the stereo beckoned. And the hair…
Merlin examined a strand of it under the light. It was definitely—
“I hope you’re hungry,” Arthur said.
Merlin jumped at the sound of Arthur’s voice.
“Have you found something to listen to?” he asked.
Merlin recovered his composure and left the ball on the floor.
“Sure, how about this?” Merlin asked, rising to his feet with the Vivaldi CD in hand.
“Looks good,” Arthur said, taking the CD and loading it into the tray.
Merlin bit his bottom lip. He wanted to ask Arthur about the cat hair. There had to be some explanation for it.
Maybe Arthur’s father had a cat?
Maybe his housekeeper wasn’t very thorough?
Maybe it was simply dust?
Thin strands of…
Tabby-colored… dust.
Vivaldi’s violins took off and Merlin dug his fingernails into his palm. Maybe that would keep him from talking about cats, lest he find himself on Dr. Disler’s couch, spilling his guts about Gwen and how his love for her made a real human relationship impossible.
Arthur stepped back from the stereo.
“Let me get you a fresh glass,” Arthur said, taking Merlin’s glass from him with one hand and clasping Merlin’s hand in the other. Fortunately, he didn’t notice the half-moons that Merlin had pressed into his palm. “You must be starving.”
Arthur led Merlin into the dining room, where he offered him a chair.
“It smells wonderful,” Merlin said, trying to regain his focus on dinner. He unfolded his napkin and placed it over his lap.
“Here’s your Pinot Gris,” Arthur said, pouring the wine into a new glass for Merlin before filling his own.
Merlin watched as Arthur poured the wine. He breathed out a sigh, grateful that he hadn’t chosen one of the feline vineyards. He could do this. He could get through a date with Arthur without talking about cats.
“It’s been a long time since I’ve cooked for anyone,” Arthur said, taking a seat.
Merlin was surprised that Arthur sounded shy with this admission. He found it endearing.
“Well, it’s been a long time since anyone cooked for me,” Merlin said, taking his fork in hand.
“Really, it’s the least I could do,” Arthur said, raising his wine glass to take a sip. “Since giving you the wrong impression last week.”
To Merlin, the moment was decidedly awkward. Still, he forbade himself from bringing up the topic that led to Arthur’s hasty departure. He bit into a spear of asparagus that he had twirled with the linguine on his fork.
“This is wonderful,” Merlin said, between bites. “You’ve really gone over and above what I expected.”
“Well, it’s my pleasure, after I missed seeing your smiling face all week. How are your mother’s wedding plans coming along?” Arthur asked, taking a bite.
Merlin recalled that he had told Arthur about Hunith and Iseldir at the Sox game. “Fine, I think. I don’t know for sure, since she’s in Connecticut and I’m here, but I do know I’ll be the one to walk her down the aisle at the ceremony,” Merlin said, twirling another bite of pasta.
“That’s sweet,” Arthur said, biting into a breadstick. “You must be looking forward to it.”
“There’ll be a lot of relatives there who I only get to see every once in a while,” Merlin said. He wondered if this would be a good time to let Arthur know he wanted to bring a date to the wedding, but Arthur interrupted his thoughts.
“And your father? Are you close to him as well?” Arthur asked.
Merlin put his glass down after taking a sip of wine. “I don’t know him. My mother hooked up with him only once at a concert when she was still a teenager,” Merlin smiled. He had told the story countless times and it had ceased to bother him now that he was an adult.
“It’s too bad you don’t know him, but that’s a cool story,” Arthur said, taking another bite.
“I’m not sure it was so cool for my mother at the time,” Merlin said. “But she did all right as a single parent.”
“That she did,” Arthur said, waggling his eyebrows. “If you’re any indication.”
Merlin laughed. “You’re really pushing your luck,” he said.
“I’m so bad at flirting,” Arthur admitted with a laugh.
Merlin watched Arthur look at him from beneath his lashes. Arthur may have thought that Merlin was adorable, but truly there was nothing sweeter than Arthur who ran his father’s business, who nobly fought a legal battle against his sister, and who wasn’t afraid to admit his shortcomings. Besides admiring these many achievements, Merlin wanted to dip him in chocolate and lick him from head to toe for dessert. If only he loved cats as much as Merlin did… he’d be perfect.
“You seem to be doing fine. How have things gone for you this week?” Merlin asked, looking to divert the topic from cats, his own quirky family story, and his desire to lunge across the table to nibble on Arthur’s neck. “I haven’t been here, so I feel like I’ve missed a few transactions between you and Morgana.”
“It’s been difficult,” Arthur said, putting down his fork. He closed his eyes. “There’s every indication that Morgana will get what she wants.”
“I’m sorry to hear that,” Merlin said. He tried to put a positive spin on it to lift Arthur’s spirits. “But I’ve met her on my delivery route. She doesn’t seem so bad. Plus, she’s your sister. Isn’t there some way you can both be happy?”
Arthur shook his head. “That’s impossible,” he said.
“I don’t understand,” Merlin said, taking a sip of wine. He didn’t know much about sibling relations, but any kindergartener on the playground knew that sometimes he had to share. “Maybe if you could give a little, she’d let up on her claims?”
“I can’t,” Arthur said. He gripped his wine glass with tense fingers and looked Merlin in the eye. “There are some things more dear to people than their own relatives. I can’t budge on this. I won’t.”
Merlin was confused. Surely Arthur wasn’t talking about the apartment or any of its furnishings. Even if Morgana threatened to take those things away, they could be replaced. Merlin couldn’t imagine what could be more dear to him, besides his mother... and Aithusa, of course.
Just then, the Vivaldi ended and the CD player reverted back to the CD from earlier—Chopin, Merlin now realized.
At the first note, Merlin remembered where he had heard it before.
Gwen.
“Arthur?” Merlin breathed.
Arthur had something more important to him than his own sister.
Arthur’s fingers held the wine glass in an entirely familiar manner, each nail trimmed and polished to perfection.
The cat hair.
The empty Mountain Dew cases.
The cruise ship’s horn in the harbor.
Everything clicked.
The baseball.
The hardwood floors.
Arthur’s videography business.
Merlin’s mouth gaped open. He hyperventilated, his promise to stop mentioning cats in Arthur’s presence all but forgotten. He clenched the napkin with both fists, trying to steady his heart. He thought he might pass out.
“Arthur,” Merlin said, his eyes wide and panicked. “I swore I wouldn’t bring it up. I promised myself. It’s why I think you left me on the subway.”
“Merlin, I told you I had something to show you,” Arthur said. He stood and walked to Merlin’s chair, leaning close to whisper in Merlin’s ear. “Don’t ever think that your love for cats is a bad thing.”
Merlin let his napkin fall to the floor when he pushed his chair away from the table.
Looking more serious than Merlin had ever seen him, Arthur took Merlin’s hand and led him to the carpeted stairway next to the apartment’s entry door.
Merlin's heart felt like it was going to burst with excitement—like he had just gotten off the Tilt-a-Whirl and was ready to board the giant coaster. He went up the steps with Arthur to the upper level of the apartment where one open door led to a furnished bedroom and a second door was firmly shut.
Arthur opened the door. “Here she is,” he said.
Gwen meowed.
=^.^= )
Author: gwylliondream
Genre: Modern au
Pairing: Arthur/Merlin
Rating: NC-17
Words: 58,347
Author’s Notes: I Am Gwen was written for
paperlegends and as a kinkme_merlin fill for this prompt.Disclaimer: I did not create these characters. No disrespect intended. No profit desired, only muses.
Comments: Comments are welcome anytime! Thanks so much for reading!
“Arthur,” Merlin said, his mouth hanging open, oblivious to the other riders in the elevator.
Arthur smiled weakly at him, but Merlin’s brain screamed, “Avoid! Avoid! Avoid!”
Merlin couldn’t think fast enough, so his reflexes took over to remove him from the danger outside the elevator door. He frantically pressed every button on the panel, his eyes scanning for the “Close Door” button as each number lit up with an insistent push of his finger.
“Merlin,” Arthur said, shoving his hand between the doors, preventing them from closing, their mirrored surface reflecting Merlin’s panic back to him.
Merlin couldn’t avoid the stares from the remaining occupants of the elevator. He bit his lower lip and clenched the strap to his messenger bag tightly. Despite the angry murmurs of the riders, Arthur boarded the elevator and punched the number forty for his floor.
“Going up,” Arthur said, giving a confident smile to the disgruntled riders.
“No! I need to make my delivery,” Merlin said, adrenaline kicking in. He jammed his hand between the doors and prised them open again, stepping out of the elevator and into the chilly hallway.
“Excuse me,” Arthur said to the elevator’s occupants as he followed Merlin into the hall of the thirty-ninth floor.
The riders acted quickly to ensure the door finally shut, before they were subjected to any further delays.
Merlin strode down the hallway, the plush carpet giving way beneath his feet. His eyes scanned the numbers on each door, looking for number eleven. He couldn’t believe he had run into Arthur on his first trip back to The Devonshire since their date. What was Arthur doing here? He wasn’t even on his own floor. Merlin could feel his heart pounding in his ears.
“Merlin, wait,” Arthur called, seemingly right on his heels.
Finally, the gold plated eleven marked the door in front of Merlin. He sighed with relief and knocked four times with the brass knocker, ignoring Arthur, although it was difficult when Arthur ran up to Merlin and leaned against the wall next to his client’s door.
“You’ve not answered my calls,” Arthur said, panting from his run down the hallway.
Merlin thought he could hear footsteps coming to the door of thirty-nine eleven. Still, he was amused by Arthur’s breathlessness, his exquisitely muscled chest rising and falling, his hair sleep-tousled as if he had just gotten out of bed. Merlin clenched his jaw and averted his eyes to the ceiling instead. No, he hadn’t respond to Arthur’s calls. It was too little, too late. Merlin knew enough to quit while he was ahead. Arthur hadn’t tried calling him until Sunday. For all Arthur cared, Merlin could have been lying in the gutter on Friday night. He could have been attacked by a pack of stray dogs who roamed the streets at night looking for distracted bicycle messengers. Not to mention that Arthur really had led Merlin on—yet another reason that Merlin was pissed off at him.
“Every time I called Kilgharrah Kourier, that witch Freya sent a different courier to me, when I only wanted to see you again,” Arthur said, his voice wavering.
“Uh,” Merlin said, “I told her to do that.”
Arthur let his finger trace a path down the strap of Merlin’s messenger bag, from Merlin’s shoulder and across his chest to where a smattering of dark hair lurked beneath the Lycra. “I’d like to explain,” he said.
It finally dawned on Merlin that maybe, just maybe, Arthur wasn’t calling to break it off with him, after all. However improbable it was to think such a thing, it made Merlin fight back an urge to smile.
Just then, the door at thirty-nine eleven opened and an older woman peered out at them.
“Good afternoon, Ms. Annis,” Arthur said with a smile.
“Are you all set now?” Ms. Annis asked.
“Yes, thanks for everything,” Arthur said, giving Ms. Annis a little wave.
“No problem,” Ms. Annis said, closing the door behind her.
“But I have a delivery for you,” Merlin said, waving the manila envelope in front of the door as it closed.
Arthur folded his arms across his chest. “Sorry, Merlin. The envelope is empty.”
“No it isn’t,” Merlin said, feeling the envelope for its contents. “Freya wouldn’t send me out here for nothing.”
“Go ahead and open it,” Arthur said.
“Of course I’m not going to open it,” Merlin said. He held the envelope up to the light from a sconce that illuminated the hallway. “That’s one of our rules as bicycle messengers. It’s confidential. We can’t just open an envelope whenever we feel like it.”
Merlin stared at the envelope and felt how thin it was. That didn’t mean anything, though. A single document might only be the thickness of a piece of tissue paper… but surely even tissue paper is bulkier than this, Merlin thought.
In a flash, Arthur pushed himself off the wall and grabbed the envelope from Merlin’s hands. Merlin was caught off-guard from staring at the envelope against the light of the sconce. He felt it slip between his fingers and out of his possession.
“Give it back,” Merlin shouted. He’d lose his job over this for sure.
Arthur began to pick at the seal.
“You can’t do that,” Merlin yelled. He slapped at Arthur’s hands to get him to stop opening the envelope.
Arthur yanked the envelope out of Merlin’s reach and began to run down the hall with it held high. Merlin’s arm got caught in the strap of his messenger bag and he dropped it, leaving it in the middle of the hallway as he tore after Arthur.
When Arthur reached the end of the hall, he ducked into an alcove that had been arranged into a sitting area with a pair of plush club chairs, a low table, and a commanding view across the harbor. Merlin caught up to Arthur there and tried to wrest the envelope from him. He threw his arms around Arthur’s waist, tackling him. Arthur was caught off balance and tripped over the leg of one chair. He turned in mid air, trying to shake Merlin off as both men crashed to the floor.
Merlin was grateful for the carpeting beneath his knees and the helmet on his head. He landed with his shoulder smashing into Arthur’s middle, knocking the wind out of him. Over the past few weeks, he had imagined what it would feel like to roll around on the floor with Arthur. Unfortunately, he had very different circumstances in mind, most of which involved nakedness and a good deal of moaning. He scrambled over Arthur’s body, fingers digging into Arthur’s crimson polo shirt, but it was too late. Arthur had already worked his thumb under the envelope’s flap while Merlin reached for it unsuccessfully. Arthur tore the glue seal open.
“See?” Arthur said from his position, stretched out on the floor. He blew into the envelope so Merlin could see what it contained.
It was empty.
Merlin got to his knees and threw himself into one of the chairs, his chest heaving from the struggle.
“You’re still not supposed to open it. It wasn’t for you, even if Freya did set me up,” Merlin said, unbuckling his helmet and shoving it off his head. His hair was damp and matted with sweat.
Arthur pushed himself off the floor and knelt at the side of Merlin’s chair. “Sorry,” he said, panting. “I knew you wouldn’t open it for yourself.”
“Ms. Annis was in on this?” Merlin asked.
Arthur nodded. “She’s a good neighbor.”
“And Freya?” Merlin asked again, more seriously.
Arthur seemed to be undecided about what to do with his hands. He folded them beneath his chin and leaned onto the armrest of Merlin’s chair.
“She helped me. But it was only because you were such a bitch to her at work this week,” Arthur said.
“And let me guess—Gwaine isn’t hurt, is he?” Merlin said, encircling Arthur’s wrist with his hand. “I thought I needed to get to the hospital right away to make sure he was okay. You know he’s my friend.”
“I didn’t think you wanted to see me again,” Arthur said, lowering his eyes. “It was the only thing I could think of to do.”
“You’re a very bad man,” Merlin said, squeezing Arthur’s wrist.
“You’ve got very nice friends,” Arthur said, brightening. “They care about you.”
Merlin shifted in the chair and turned to face Arthur.
“Oh, sure, if you count a talent for deception as a good quality in a friend,” Merlin said.
“I know you’re angry with me,” Arthur said. He rotated his wrist so his palm pressed against Merlin’s palm. “Can you give me another chance?”
Merlin wanted to be angry. He wanted to scream. He had felt awful all week long, believing that Arthur had left him alone at the end of their date because Merlin had mentioned his love for cats one too many times.
“I wrote you off when you got off the train, and when you didn’t call me the next day,” Merlin said.
“I couldn’t call you,” Arthur said. “The only number I had was for Kilgharrah Kourier, and I kept getting that infernal answering machine. I left a message each day. I know Freya gave them to you.”
“She did, witch that she is,” Merlin said. A flood of warmth rushed over him. Perhaps Arthur really didn’t mean to leave him as he did. “I don’t really know what happened. Did I misunderstand you? We were on a date, weren’t we?”
“Sorry, it’s my fault,” Arthur said, pressing the back of Merlin’s hand to his cheek. Merlin felt Arthur’s shaky breath on his wrist.
“Was it all my talk about cats?” Merlin asked.
Arthur closed his eyes. “It was,” Arthur said. “But it’s not like you think.”
“I don’t know what to think anymore,” Merlin said. He was tempted to draw his hand away but Arthur’s fingers pressed tighter.
“I panicked,” Arthur said.
Arthur turned his head slightly, and Merlin felt Arthur’s lips touching the back of his hand for a kiss. It was gentle and slow, filled with a caution.
“Let me make it up to you,” Arthur said.
Merlin looked into Arthur’s eyes, shining and sincere.
“Let me,” Arthur said. “We can go upstairs right now if you’d like. I have something I want to show you.”
Merlin wasn’t going to let Arthur off that easily. What did Arthur want to show him? His etchings? He wasn’t going to fall for that, despite his rapidly hardening cock that his bike shorts would do nothing to conceal. He took a breath and tried to gather his thoughts as he watched the boats sailing in the harbor. “I’m a mess, I’ve been riding the streets all day, and I’ve got to get the bike back to the garage for Leon tonight—”
“Come back here then, after you’re finished,” Arthur said. “I’ll make you dinner, whatever you’d like.”
Merlin weighed his options. He could get up right now, ride the elevator to the lobby, and never see Arthur again, or he could take Arthur up on his offer and see where the night might lead them.
“You know I’m vegetarian?” Merlin asked.
Arthur grinned. “I got the feeling you were. You love animals so much, it only makes sense,” he said. “I have some fresh asparagus. And I make a mean pasta primavera.”
Merlin couldn’t help but laugh.
Arthur let go of his hand and reached up to stroke his cheek with the back of his knuckles before tracing Merlin’s smile with the pad of his thumb.
When Arthur rose up onto his knees, Merlin leaned forward. He speared his fingers through Arthur’s hair as their lips brushed. Arthur made a little moaning noise as he opened his mouth to allow Merlin’s tongue to sweep inside. Merlin clenched his fists, tugging Arthur closer still by his silky hair.
The chime sounded from the elevator down the hall as the doors opened to let the riders out. Merlin couldn’t care less if someone wandered to where he and Arthur kissed among the chairs and table that had been shoved askew while they struggled over the envelope.
It was Arthur who first broke the kiss to rest his forehead against Merlin’s while they caught their breath.
Merlin leaned back and let his eyes flicker over Arthur’s face. “What have you been doing this week?” Merlin asked. “You look terrible.”
Arthur pouted adorably. “I haven’t been sleeping well, I can assure you of that,” he said.
Merlin could hear footsteps trodding down the hallway, followed by the jingling of keys.
“Hey, is this your bag?” a man called from outside an apartment door.
“Oh shit,” Merlin said. “My bag.” He got to his feet and ruffled Arthur’s hair before adjusting himself and trotting down the hall.
Behind him, Arthur pushed the chair out of his way and followed Merlin, picking up his bike helmet off the floor.
“It’s mine,” Merlin called. “I’ve got it.”
Merlin slung the bag over his shoulder as the apartment door closed. He felt Arthur set the bike helmet onto his head and slip his hands around his waist, a welcome touch of comfort after what had been a lonely week.
He realized that he could stay here, making out with Arthur in the hallway all night, but he still needed to get the bike back to Kilgharrah Kourier before he rushed home for a quick shower. Caving in to his desire now would only prolong the suspense.
Merlin took Arthur’s hand and led him to the elevator, pressing the up button. When the elevator arrived, Merlin hit the button for the fortieth floor. In the time it took for the elevator to go up one floor, Arthur had tugged the strap of Merlin’s messenger bag to pull him into another searing kiss. Merlin’s hands gripped tightly around Arthur’s biceps, thankful that no one was waiting for the elevator when the door opened again. Merlin hovered between the elevator doors, holding them open with his foot.
“I’ll see you soon,” Merlin said.
Arthur stepped out of the elevator and into the hall. “Take your time,” he said. “But hurry.”
Merlin laughed as the elevator door shut.
“I hate you both!” Merlin shouted at Freya and Gwaine.
He had waved his gloved hand in front of the sensor to trigger open the door to Freya’s office before heading into the garage to turn his bike over to Leon.
Gwaine, who was sitting on top of Freya’s desk, burst into laughter.
“They’ve been waiting an hour for you to get back,” Leon said, nodding at the pair.
Merlin shook his head as he watched Freya high-five Gwaine through the glass door that had slid shut again. He came to a stop, touching a foot down to the stained pavement of the garage floor.
“They’re up to no good,” Merlin said, swinging his leg over the crossbar of his bike.
“Looks like it worked,” Leon said.
Merlin unbuckled his helmet and pulled it off his head.
“She’s all yours,” Merlin said brightly, letting go of the handlebars, so Leon could take the bike.
“Thanks, Merlin. It’s good to have you back,” Leon said.
Merlin walked to the sliding glass door and waved his arms for it to open again.
“Whoohoo!” he shouted as walked through the door, circling his arms as if he were flexing his biceps.
Gwaine and Freya applauded, no doubt relieved that their plan had worked, after spending a week dodging Merlin’s foul mood.
Merlin leaned over and kissed Freya on the cheek. “And thank you, my dear, for never paying attention to anything I ask of you.”
Freya did her best to be gracious, but then said, “It’s Friday night. Give up your bag so I can get out of here.”
Merlin ducked his head beneath the strap of his messenger bag and handed it to Freya. She pulled the manifest from its pocket and peered inside to make sure the bag was empty.
“And you look none worse for wear after your devastating accident,” Merlin said, punching Gwaine on the arm.
“You have no idea,” Gwaine said, sipping his iced coffee. “I felt bad about lying to you, but you’ve been an ass to me all week and I figured I had nothing to lose.”
“Well done, friend,” Merlin said.
“So, it worked?” Gwaine asked. “He doesn’t really hate you?”
“No,” Merlin said, grabbing Gwaine’s cup away from him and peeling off the lid. “He doesn’t hate me at all.”
Gwaine beamed. “What’s next? Did he ask you out again?”
Merlin raised the cup, and his eyebrows.
Gwaine nodded and Merlin chugged down a few swallows.
“Let’s go,” Merlin said, snapping the lid back onto the cup. “I need your help. I have a date tonight.”
“Tonight?” asked Gwaine.
“Goodnight, Freya!” Merlin called as he headed out through the sliding glass door with Gwaine in tow.
“He’s cooking for me,” Merlin said excitedly, as they walked down Tremont Street.
“I’m impressed,” Gwaine said.
“I need a shower. I need to floss. I need to pack a bag,” Merlin said. He turned around to make sure Gwaine wasn’t trailing too far behind him.
“What are you going to wear?” Gwaine asked as he hurried to catch up.
“I don’t know, but thank God I did laundry yesterday,” Merlin said.
“What are you thinking of? It’s casual, right?”
“I’ve got those plaid board shorts,” Merlin said.
“Those look stupid,” Gwaine said.
“What do you mean? They make me look hot,” Merlin said.
Gwaine rolled his eyes. “It’s a bathing suit. You can’t wear a bathing suit on a date.”
“Why not?”
“Wear those light shorts, the ones that are almost white. They’ll look good with a plain T-shirt,” Gwaine said as they dodged a car on Winter Street. “You have that black one.”
“Black?” Merlin asked.
“Sure, it’ll make your eyes pop,” Gwaine said. “And it matches your hair.”
“Seriously?” Merlin asked. “I knew I kept you around for a reason.”
“And wear a belt.”
Merlin took the stairs two at a time and unlocked the door to his apartment. Gwaine insisted on accompanying him just in case Merlin needed more fashion help. Merlin flipped the switch on the air-conditioning, pulled the clothes from his closet, and jumped into the shower. After a quick wank and an even quicker scrub, he emerged from the shower with a renewed sense of urgency. He didn’t want to keep Arthur waiting.
It seemed like the minutes had flown by. When he had left Arthur, Merlin thought it would take him an hour to get back to The Devonshire. Now, it would be closer to two hours later.
“Do you want something to eat before you go?” Gwaine asked, his voice muffled with his head in the refrigerator door.
“No, I told you he’s making me dinner. Vegetarian!” Merlin yelled to Gwaine from the bathroom.
Merlin decided against shaving. He was pressed for time. Besides, his hands were shaking so badly with nervous excitement that he’d look like he got in a fight with a feral cat if he tried to shave. He threw on his clothes and spent entirely too much time finger-combing his hair.
“Ready!” he said when he emerged from the bathroom.
Gwaine was at the kitchen counter, engrossed in something that played on Merlin’s laptop. He looked up and whistled at Merlin who spun around, wiggling his ass seductively in jest.
“What are you watching?” Merlin asked. He grabbed his drawstring bag off the handle to the bathroom door and began to stuff items into it. Condoms, a toothbrush, floss. He rummaged through his dresser drawers for a clean pair of underwear.
“That cat,” said Gwaine, stuffing grapes into his mouth from a bowl he had found in Merlin’s refrigerator.
“You are?” Merlin asked.
“She’s trying to get into the box, but it’s got these cardboard dividers in it,” Gwaine said, tossing a few more grapes into his mouth.
“Whoa! I can’t believe you! After all the shit you’ve given me?” Merlin asked in disbelief.
“She’s great. Now she’s pawing the dividers out of the way. You go, girl!”
“Oh, that reminds me,” Merlin said, shaking his head. He walked to the television and pulled a DVD off the shelf beneath it.
“What’s that?” Gwaine asked, looking up from the screen.
Merlin shook the DVD at Gwaine. “It’s Gwen. I burned a DVD of her YouTube uploads. I figure if Arthur’s really interested in me, he’ll need to know more about her,” Merlin said.
Gwaine silently arched an eyebrow at him.
Merlin deflated with a loud breath.
“You’re right,” Merlin said, his shoulders sagging when he looked at the DVD cover that he had meticulously designed and printed with titles for each of the YouTube postings.
“Isn’t that what got you into trouble with Arthur in the first place?” Gwaine asked.
Merlin bit his lip. Gwaine was right. But what could Merlin do? He could think of only one thing. “I swear to you Gwaine, I won’t pull it out until I’m absolutely sure that Arthur is okay with my….”
“Obsession?” Gwaine offered.
“Obsession. In fact, I can assure you that I won’t mention cats at all. Not a single word about cats… unless Arthur brings them up first. How’s that?” Merlin asked. He knew it was a promise he’d have to work hard to keep, but if it meant making amends with Arthur and having a chance with him, he’d do it.
“It seems like that would be impossible for you,” Gwaine said, turning his eyes back to the laptop. “Nice background wallpaper, by the way. How many times have you wanked to Gwen’s owner’s hand?”
“None of your business,” Merlin laughed.
“You’re hopeless,” Gwaine said, pitching a grape at Merlin, which he caught and ate.
“You underestimate me, Gwaine. I’m on my way,” Merlin said, shoving the DVD into his bag, just on the off chance that Arthur was a closeted Gwen fan. “Wish me luck.”
“You know,” Gwaine said, shaking his finger at the computer screen. “I bet if I studied these videos long enough, I could figure out exactly where they’re made.”
“Yeah, really?” Merlin asked. “Well, go for it. And lock up when you’re done. I doubt I’ll be back tonight.”
“Go get ‘em, tiger,” Gwaine said, taking his eyes off the screen long enough for Merlin to wave to him before heading out the door.
“Hello,” Arthur said as he swung the door open. “I was beginning to think that you weren’t coming back.
Before Merlin could say anything, Arthur leaned forward and pressed his lips to Merlin’s, eliciting a surprised whimper from him.
As if they were on automatic pilot, Merlin’s hands went to Arthur’s shoulders. His heart raced with the knowledge that this was the very first time he would be inside Arthur’s apartment as a guest. It seemed so different now, with Arthur’s arms around his waist, his broad hands against the small of his back, drawing him closer.
Merlin let his palms drift to Arthur’s chest. He ran his hands over the fabric of Arthur’s polo shirt, feeling a nipple pebble beneath his fingers while they kissed. It reminded him that less than two hours ago, they were wrestling over the decoy envelope in the hallway downstairs.
“Oh, I brought this for you,” Merlin said breathlessly, when they broke away. He took the bottle wrapped in brown paper from the Boston Wine Exchange out of his drawstring bag and handed it to Arthur. “I didn’t know what you liked, so I went with a Pinot Gris.”
Arthur pulled the bottle from its wrapper and read the label. “King Estate,” he said, reading the label.
“It sounded good,” Merlin said. He hated to admit it, but Merlin could barely contain himself in the wine shop when he was confronted with the Gato Negro Sauvignon Blanc and the Fat Cat Cellar’s Pinot Grigio. He narrowly avoided selecting something more feline, remembering his promise to Gwaine.
“That does have a nice ring to it,” Arthur said. “Let’s get it into the chiller.”
Merlin set his bag on the hall table where Arthur had neatly stacked a dozen empty soda cases, broken down flat for recycling, Merlin guessed. Funny, he never thought of Arthur as a fan of Mountain Dew, and it made him realize how much more he wanted to learn about Arthur, now that they were speaking to each other again. Merlin figured the table was as good a place as any to leave his stuff. It wasn’t like he wanted to pull out the ‘I Am Gwen’ DVD already, and he complimented himself on his restraint. He followed Arthur into the kitchen, which he had only previously seen from the entryway.
“Can I get you a glass now, or would you rather wait for this to chill?” Arthur asked, his hand cupping Merlin’s shoulder and skimming downward to his elbow. “I have a bottle of Chardonnay open that’s already cold.”
“I’ll take a glass of what you have open,” Merlin said. The aroma of sautéed vegetables on the stove was heavenly. A pot of boiling water sent steam into the air. He stood in the doorway to the kitchen while Arthur went to the refrigerator for the bottle.
“Please make yourself at home,” Arthur said.
Merlin backed away from the door, wondering if he should give Arthur some space to cook. He wandered into the dining room, which was as sleek and modern as he had imagined, with four chairs arranged around a glass-topped table. Arthur had already set the table with real silver and cloth napkins. The overhead lamp had been dimmed to a romantic glow.
In the living room, Arthur had put a CD on, so music played softly through the apartment. The violin and piano arrangement sounded vaguely familiar to Merlin—something he had heard recently, although he couldn’t remember where. He was never one to listen to classical music—not since he was in high school, yet he remembered hearing this particular tune recently. He shrugged and decided not to worry about it. He had enough on his mind with spending the evening with Arthur.
“Cheers,” Arthur said, handing him a glass.
Merlin accepted the wine and tilted the glass to touch Arthur’s. “Cheers,” Merlin said.
“To second chances,” Arthur said, his blue eyes locked onto Merlin’s while he took a sip.
“To second chances,” Merlin agreed, trying not to shudder with anticipation under Arthur’s gaze. The wine was sweet on his tongue. He hoped that it would help him to relax a bit. He couldn’t help but think about how badly his last date with Arthur had ended, and he was committed to avoiding a repeat experience. This was to be a new beginning.
While the wine helped Merlin to calm down, he certainly didn’t want to get drunk. He needed to keep his wits about him so he could make sure to avoid mentioning cats—for the time being, at least. Gwaine was right. His exuberance about cats got him into trouble the first time around, and he’d avoid the subject at all costs tonight. After their skirmish in the neighbor’s hallway, Arthur had confessed that Merlin’s obsession with cats had something to do with their falling out last Friday. Merlin hoped they could get to the bottom of their misunderstanding so it didn’t happen again. Most of all, he hoped Arthur wasn’t one of those people who thought all cats were mean or sneaky, or that they’d steal a baby’s breath. He supposed he’d find out soon enough.
“You’ve got a great view,” Merlin said, noting the ships in the harbor, their masts shining with the last vestiges of the setting sun.
“You can almost smell the ocean,” Arthur said, stepping into place beside Merlin at the window. “Even up this high.”
Merlin sipped his wine while admiring the dizzying view of the city. He felt Arthur put a hand around his waist and he longingly leaned into it so he could feel the pressure of Arthur’s hand more firmly. Merlin let out a gasp when Arthur let his fingers inch down the front of Merlin’s shorts to his pocket.
“You’ve got your cellphone with you?” Arthur asked, squeezing the rectangle outlined by the fabric.
“Should I not?” Merlin asked, curious.
“Let’s have it,” Arthur said, slipping his hand inside the pocket to retrieve the device. He took a quick look at it before handing it to Merlin. “Go ahead, turn it on.”
Merlin was game for whatever Arthur had in mind. He unlocked his phone and handed it to Arthur, enjoying what the tickle of Arthur’s breath on his neck did to his cock.
Merlin watched while Arthur punched in a number with his perfectly manicured nails. Soon, the voicemail picked-up.
You have reached Arthur Pendragon, please leave a message and I’ll return your call.
“Hello Arthur,” Arthur said. “This is Merlin’s phone number. Now, you’ll never have to plead your case to Freya, Gwaine, or Mr. Kilgharrah ever again. Good luck to you.”
Merlin burst out laughing as Arthur ended the call. “Kilgharrah? You had his help too?”
“A little bit,” Arthur said, shaking his head and handing Merlin’s phone back to him. “I don’t know how you can work for him. I had no idea what he was talking about half the time.”
“You’re not the only one,” Merlin said, taking another sip of wine.
“Look,” Arthur said, skimming his fingertips along Merlin’s forearm. “I need to get back to the kitchen because I doubt a burnt dinner will impress you much. My father had varied taste in music. Why don’t you take a look through the CDs and see if there’s something you’d like?”
Merlin nodded at the extensive collection on the shelves. “I can do that,” he said.
As soon as Arthur left the room, Merlin slipped his phone back into his pocket and began to look for a CD.
From the collection of media on display, Arthur’s late father seemed to have a little of everything from Aerosmith to Ziani, all arranged in alphabetical order from top to bottom. Merlin figured it would be best to stick with classical. He knelt on the floor to get a closer look at the musicians who fell late in the alphabet. REM and Rachmaninoff, U2 and Uccellini, Van Halen and Vivaldi… Four Seasons would be appropriate, especially since the summer heat was ready to give way to fall. Merlin took the CD off the shelf.
As he stood up, he caught a glimpse of something wedged between the shelves and the stereo cabinet. Arthur seemed busy in the kitchen, arranging food on the plates. When Merlin was certain that Arthur wasn’t watching him, he let his fingers skim across the hardwood floor to retrieve the object. It was exactly what he thought it was at first glance—a baseball that had somehow rolled behind the shelves.
Squatting in front of the CDs, Merlin picked the ball up and held it in his hand. He thought it was strange for Arthur to have a baseball rolling around on the floor of his immaculate apartment.
This was no ordinary baseball.
It was the foul ball that had nearly hit Arthur during the Sox-Tiger’s game. Merlin was sure of it.
And there was hair… only a few strands of it… but definitely hair… clinging to the white leather where the ball had rested on the floor.
At Hunith’s house, Merlin had about a half-dozen balls that he had caught or snagged by chance over his lifetime of attending baseball games. He kept them on a shelf with his high school diploma and his college degree, as if they marked an important milestone in his life. Merlin knew Arthur wasn’t nearly as big a baseball fan as he was, but still the question of why Arthur would leave this ball on the floor behind the stereo beckoned. And the hair…
Merlin examined a strand of it under the light. It was definitely—
“I hope you’re hungry,” Arthur said.
Merlin jumped at the sound of Arthur’s voice.
“Have you found something to listen to?” he asked.
Merlin recovered his composure and left the ball on the floor.
“Sure, how about this?” Merlin asked, rising to his feet with the Vivaldi CD in hand.
“Looks good,” Arthur said, taking the CD and loading it into the tray.
Merlin bit his bottom lip. He wanted to ask Arthur about the cat hair. There had to be some explanation for it.
Maybe Arthur’s father had a cat?
Maybe his housekeeper wasn’t very thorough?
Maybe it was simply dust?
Thin strands of…
Tabby-colored… dust.
Vivaldi’s violins took off and Merlin dug his fingernails into his palm. Maybe that would keep him from talking about cats, lest he find himself on Dr. Disler’s couch, spilling his guts about Gwen and how his love for her made a real human relationship impossible.
Arthur stepped back from the stereo.
“Let me get you a fresh glass,” Arthur said, taking Merlin’s glass from him with one hand and clasping Merlin’s hand in the other. Fortunately, he didn’t notice the half-moons that Merlin had pressed into his palm. “You must be starving.”
Arthur led Merlin into the dining room, where he offered him a chair.
“It smells wonderful,” Merlin said, trying to regain his focus on dinner. He unfolded his napkin and placed it over his lap.
“Here’s your Pinot Gris,” Arthur said, pouring the wine into a new glass for Merlin before filling his own.
Merlin watched as Arthur poured the wine. He breathed out a sigh, grateful that he hadn’t chosen one of the feline vineyards. He could do this. He could get through a date with Arthur without talking about cats.
“It’s been a long time since I’ve cooked for anyone,” Arthur said, taking a seat.
Merlin was surprised that Arthur sounded shy with this admission. He found it endearing.
“Well, it’s been a long time since anyone cooked for me,” Merlin said, taking his fork in hand.
“Really, it’s the least I could do,” Arthur said, raising his wine glass to take a sip. “Since giving you the wrong impression last week.”
To Merlin, the moment was decidedly awkward. Still, he forbade himself from bringing up the topic that led to Arthur’s hasty departure. He bit into a spear of asparagus that he had twirled with the linguine on his fork.
“This is wonderful,” Merlin said, between bites. “You’ve really gone over and above what I expected.”
“Well, it’s my pleasure, after I missed seeing your smiling face all week. How are your mother’s wedding plans coming along?” Arthur asked, taking a bite.
Merlin recalled that he had told Arthur about Hunith and Iseldir at the Sox game. “Fine, I think. I don’t know for sure, since she’s in Connecticut and I’m here, but I do know I’ll be the one to walk her down the aisle at the ceremony,” Merlin said, twirling another bite of pasta.
“That’s sweet,” Arthur said, biting into a breadstick. “You must be looking forward to it.”
“There’ll be a lot of relatives there who I only get to see every once in a while,” Merlin said. He wondered if this would be a good time to let Arthur know he wanted to bring a date to the wedding, but Arthur interrupted his thoughts.
“And your father? Are you close to him as well?” Arthur asked.
Merlin put his glass down after taking a sip of wine. “I don’t know him. My mother hooked up with him only once at a concert when she was still a teenager,” Merlin smiled. He had told the story countless times and it had ceased to bother him now that he was an adult.
“It’s too bad you don’t know him, but that’s a cool story,” Arthur said, taking another bite.
“I’m not sure it was so cool for my mother at the time,” Merlin said. “But she did all right as a single parent.”
“That she did,” Arthur said, waggling his eyebrows. “If you’re any indication.”
Merlin laughed. “You’re really pushing your luck,” he said.
“I’m so bad at flirting,” Arthur admitted with a laugh.
Merlin watched Arthur look at him from beneath his lashes. Arthur may have thought that Merlin was adorable, but truly there was nothing sweeter than Arthur who ran his father’s business, who nobly fought a legal battle against his sister, and who wasn’t afraid to admit his shortcomings. Besides admiring these many achievements, Merlin wanted to dip him in chocolate and lick him from head to toe for dessert. If only he loved cats as much as Merlin did… he’d be perfect.
“You seem to be doing fine. How have things gone for you this week?” Merlin asked, looking to divert the topic from cats, his own quirky family story, and his desire to lunge across the table to nibble on Arthur’s neck. “I haven’t been here, so I feel like I’ve missed a few transactions between you and Morgana.”
“It’s been difficult,” Arthur said, putting down his fork. He closed his eyes. “There’s every indication that Morgana will get what she wants.”
“I’m sorry to hear that,” Merlin said. He tried to put a positive spin on it to lift Arthur’s spirits. “But I’ve met her on my delivery route. She doesn’t seem so bad. Plus, she’s your sister. Isn’t there some way you can both be happy?”
Arthur shook his head. “That’s impossible,” he said.
“I don’t understand,” Merlin said, taking a sip of wine. He didn’t know much about sibling relations, but any kindergartener on the playground knew that sometimes he had to share. “Maybe if you could give a little, she’d let up on her claims?”
“I can’t,” Arthur said. He gripped his wine glass with tense fingers and looked Merlin in the eye. “There are some things more dear to people than their own relatives. I can’t budge on this. I won’t.”
Merlin was confused. Surely Arthur wasn’t talking about the apartment or any of its furnishings. Even if Morgana threatened to take those things away, they could be replaced. Merlin couldn’t imagine what could be more dear to him, besides his mother... and Aithusa, of course.
Just then, the Vivaldi ended and the CD player reverted back to the CD from earlier—Chopin, Merlin now realized.
At the first note, Merlin remembered where he had heard it before.
Gwen.
“Arthur?” Merlin breathed.
Arthur had something more important to him than his own sister.
Arthur’s fingers held the wine glass in an entirely familiar manner, each nail trimmed and polished to perfection.
The cat hair.
The empty Mountain Dew cases.
The cruise ship’s horn in the harbor.
Everything clicked.
The baseball.
The hardwood floors.
Arthur’s videography business.
Merlin’s mouth gaped open. He hyperventilated, his promise to stop mentioning cats in Arthur’s presence all but forgotten. He clenched the napkin with both fists, trying to steady his heart. He thought he might pass out.
“Arthur,” Merlin said, his eyes wide and panicked. “I swore I wouldn’t bring it up. I promised myself. It’s why I think you left me on the subway.”
“Merlin, I told you I had something to show you,” Arthur said. He stood and walked to Merlin’s chair, leaning close to whisper in Merlin’s ear. “Don’t ever think that your love for cats is a bad thing.”
Merlin let his napkin fall to the floor when he pushed his chair away from the table.
Looking more serious than Merlin had ever seen him, Arthur took Merlin’s hand and led him to the carpeted stairway next to the apartment’s entry door.
Merlin's heart felt like it was going to burst with excitement—like he had just gotten off the Tilt-a-Whirl and was ready to board the giant coaster. He went up the steps with Arthur to the upper level of the apartment where one open door led to a furnished bedroom and a second door was firmly shut.
Arthur opened the door. “Here she is,” he said.
Gwen meowed.
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no subject
Date: 2012-08-31 08:21 pm (UTC)This was another delightful date and I enjoyed getting clue after clue after clue (boxes, Chopin, baseball, cat hair) right up the the heart hitching reveal! Yay Gwen! Merlin having to repress all things cat related on this date was hysterical, especially in light of the big reveal.
I'm off to see if all of Gilli's information about cat adoption is going to help Arthur and Morgana come to an agreement :D
no subject
Date: 2012-08-31 08:38 pm (UTC)If only the Merlin writers would do the same!
:D