Archive of Our Own

1. Monday

Arthur reached out his hand and it curled around the mug of coffee Merlin had put there for him. Merlin must have added one of his stay-hot spells to it because Arthur had been stuck here, wrestling with the year-end projections, since before nine but it was still warm. 

He glanced up to see if Merlin was at his desk, wondering if there was any chance of getting some biscuits - brain food - to go with the coffee, but unsurprisingly, his assistant was nowhere to be seen. Instead there was a huge bunch of flowers, taking up most of the space on Merlin’s workstation. Arthur tilted his head. Who would send Merlin flowers? HR sent flowers to staff sometimes when something very good, or very bad, happened. Arthur would know if Merlin had done something very good - he hadn’t - so maybe something very bad had happened? Arthur’s brow furrowed. 

Just then, Merlin waltzed into Arthur’s office, a packet of biscuits in one hand and a file with papers that were threatening to spill out of it tucked under his arm. “Brain food for you!” Merlin said, dropping the dark chocolate digestives on top of Arthur’s printouts. Arthur’s annoyance was tempered by the fact that those were his favourite biscuits. “And Leon’s sales report for you to check before he circulates it.” 

The file half fell out from under his arm, the papers sliding towards the floor as it dropped onto Arthur’s desk. Arthur caught them, and looked up glaring. “Watch it!” Then, guiltily, he remembered the flowers and the probably bad news awaiting Merlin, and mumbled, “Please.”

Merlin’s jaw dropped open. “Please? Who are you and what have you done with Arthur Prat-dragon” 

“You can’t talk to me like that, Merlin. I’m your boss.” Arthur had pointed this out before, but it never made any difference. Nothing he said seemed to have much effect on Merlin, which he ought to mind, but he didn’t. 

“How are the projections coming on, oh mighty boss?” Merlin asked, grinning. 

Arthur ignored Merlin's jibe and sighed. “I’m getting there, but it just takes forever.”

“Do you want me to pull up last year’s third quarter report for comparison? Maybe some of the assumptions are the same?” 

“Yes, that would be good actually,” Arthur said, thinking, not for the first time, that Merlin wasn’t just a pretty face, though his face was very pretty. Those cheekbones and the soft, pink curve of his expressive lips - Arthur knew better than to think about them or he’d end up in trouble with Guinevere Smith, Head of HR. Boss-employee relationships were not allowed for good reason. 

He opened the biscuits to distract himself and shoved one in his mouth as Merlin turned to go. He suddenly remembered the flowers. “I’mf opfe vrfingg okay,” he spluttered, crumbs spraying over Leon’s report.

Merlin laughed, a warm, bright sound in his dull office. “Can I have that again, in English rather than Biscuitese?” 

Swallowing the biscuit down, Arthur pointed at the flowers on Merlin’s desk. “I hope everything’s okay.”

“Oh, yeah. Those. Err, everything’s fine, thanks.” He snatched a couple of Arthur’s chocolate digestives and sauntered out the door, ignoring the protests Arthur flung after him. 

It was nearly lunchtime when Arthur finally got to the end of the projections and the justifications for all the assumptions underlying them. He leaned back in his chair with a contented sigh. He didn’t like doing the work, but he did like the satisfaction of getting it done. 

He looked through the glass wall at Merlin's desk and, unsurprisingly, Merlin and his unruly tangle of black hair were nowhere to be seen. The bouquet was still there, though, and Arthur’s curiosity was piqued. He wanted to know why Merlin was getting flowers. 

As casually as he could, Arthur stood up and strolled from his room. He made his way to Merlin’s desk and looked despairingly at the jumble of papers, piled all over it. After a quick glance around to check that no one was looking, he pulled the card from the flowers.

His mind reeled. Pookie? Snugglebum? His lips twitched in amusement. But what would be better next time? A date? It would have to be really bad for you to need to send flowers afterwards to apologise. He’d had some pretty lacklustre dates himself, but he’d never had to send apology flowers. Should he have done? Surely his half sister, Morgana, would have made sure he had if he’d needed to? After all, at least two of his dates had been her friends. But if whoever Snugglebum was, was calling Merlin ‘Pookie’, they must be beyond a first date. Arthur grinned. Pookie! Merlin didn’t seem like a Pookie to him, but you never could tell. 

At least the flowers didn’t mean really bad news for Merlin. Merlin, who it turned out was in a relationship. Arthur felt bad that he hadn’t known that. He put the card back in its holder and, feeling strangely deflated, he retreated to his office. 

2. Tuesday

The next day, Snugglebum struck again. When Arthur came back from his catch up with Leon, there was another arrangement of flowers on Merlin’s desk. Whereas yesterday’s had been romantic pink roses, today’s was a riot of golden sunflowers and vermilion gerberas. 

Merlin wasn’t around and no one was paying him any attention, so Arthur decided he might as well read the card or it would eat away at him all morning and he wouldn’t get anything done. 

Arthur’s eyes went wide. Twinkle Toes now? Was this a follow on from yesterday’s flowers? Maybe Merlin was in a play? Or a band? Recited poetry? A musical maybe. Arthur couldn’t really see Merlin being all toothy grins and jazz hands, but you never knew. 

When Merlin came back to his desk, Arthur pressed his buzzer and called him into his office. Merlin sank into the chair on the other side of Arthur’s desk in an uncouth sprawl. Idly, he started making a string of paperclips dance in the air in front of him, probably because he knew that any fidgeting, magical or otherwise, would annoy Arthur.

Arthur tried to ignore it. “The flowers on your desk,” he said. “I couldn’t help seeing the card. I gather congratulations are in order?” 

The paperclips clattered onto the carpet. “Oh. Uh. Um ... Yeah thanks.” Merlin stuttered, sitting up straighter.

“Well?” 

“Well what?” Merlin looked puzzled. 

“What type of performance are you to be congratulated for?” 

“Oh …” There was a long pause as Merlin’s face scrunched up, then he blurted, “Burlesque!” 

Arthur’s mouth dropped open. “Burlesque? Is Twinkle Toes … what? … a stage name?”

Merlin laughed a little shrilly. “No. No! Just joking. Haha, can you imagine?” 

Arthur could, but he knew he mustn’t let himself. “What then?” he prompted, leaning forward with a frown.

“Oh, it’s nothing. You know. Just. A thing.” Merlin hopped up. “Hey, shall I get you sushi for lunch? I could go to the place you like on Albion Street. Do you want the salmon ones or the vegetarian?” 

Arthur loved that place. His stomach rumbled appreciatively. “The salmon ones, obviously.” Merlin shouldn’t need to ask. He knew Arthur’s order. 

“Okay, I’ll be back soon.” Merlin smiled brightly and slipped out of the room. He was gone before Arthur realised he still didn’t know what type of performance Merlin had given, and Merlin had left the paperclips lying in a mess on his floor. 

3. Wednesday

It was lunchtime when Arthur looked up to see a florist walking towards Merlin’s desk with an arrangement of delicate, blousy blooms in soft creams and dusty pinks. The man had long brown hair tied up in a bun and a hot pink polo shirt that stretched over nicely muscled shoulders. 

Arthur leapt to his feet and hurried out of his office. He intercepted the man as he went to put the flowers down. “I’ll take those,” he said, putting out his hand for them. 

“They’re for Merlin.” 

“I realise that. I’m his boss.” Arthur knew he sounded haughty, but he didn’t care. “I’ll give them to him when he comes back. They’ll be safer in my office.” 

“If you’re sure?” The man did not seem sure about it, his hazel eyes full of concern.

Arthur smiled at him, all teeth. “Absolutely. No point wasting them. They can brighten up my room until he comes back. He’s in a meeting.” Arthur reached out and almost had to pull them out of the florist’s hands. 

“Okay. Well please be careful with them. And tell Merlin that Lance said thank you.” 

“Yes, yes.” Arthur replied, already retreating to his office so he could read the message without being seen. 

The man gave him another uncertain look but left. Arthur shut his office door and pulled out the card. 

Thank you for putting up with me xxx 

Arthur frowned. Merlin should not be merely putting up with Snugglebum. He deserved better than that! 

He was still frowning as his half-sister barged into the room. Arthur hated the way she did that. Even if Merlin had been at his desk he would have just waved her in. They were always in cahoots and ganged up on him. 

“Flowers!” Morgana observed as she pushed his door shut with the sharp spike of her heel. “Oh dear, what have you done now?” 

“What do you mean, what have I done? Maybe someone has sent me flowers.” 

She wafted her hand dismissively. “Hardly. They are beautiful though, you must really need to apologise because that’s a step up from the bunch of wilting chrysanthemums you normally grab at the garage.” She reached out and plucked the card from the arrangement. “Thank you for putting up with me,” she read out. “Well you could be sending those to anyone! They could be for me, for a start.” 

“You don’t put up with me. You harangue me!” 

Morgana stared down her nose at him. “There’s no other way to deal with you. You leave me no choice.” 

At that moment Merlin came in. Arthur rolled his eyes. Apparently everyone was barging in on him today. 

“Oh, are those my flowers? Thank you!” he said, sweeping towards the desk in a purposeful way. He picked them up and swiped the card out of Morgana’s fingers, all in one surprisingly fluid movement, then turned around and waltzed straight out again, pushing the door shut behind him with his hip. 

Bemused, Arthur looked at Morgana who seemed just as puzzled. 

“He knew you’d got him flowers then?” she asked.

“No. I told you. I didn’t get him those flowers. Someone sent them for him.” 

“Poor boy,” Morgana said, mouth turning down in an exaggeratedly sad pout. “You mean he has someone else in his life he has to put up with besides you? What rotten luck. He’s such a saint.”

“He is not a saint!” Arthur exclaimed. “He’s nearly as much of a harpy as you are. He bullies me!”

“Like forcing you to leave work before six so you can actually go to football with your friends for the first time in ages? Or bringing you lunch because otherwise you don’t eat? Or pretending to Uther that you’re on a call with Singapore whenever he phones you? Or staying late whenever you do, to make sure you do actually go home eventually. Yes, he’s so mean to you, Arthur.”

Arthur glared at her. “He’s still very bossy. Nearly as bossy as you.”

“Which is just what you need,” she said, arching an eyebrow at him. 

Arthur sighed. He wasn’t ever going to win an argument with Morgana. 

Once Morgana finally left him in peace, Arthur went to his doorway and called Merlin in. 

“So what are the flowers for?” he asked once Merlin had pushed the door to, looking at his assistant expectantly. 

“I don’t think that’s any of your business,” Merlin replied, eyes narrowed. 

His response didn’t reassure Arthur at all. In fact it made him more concerned. He wasn’t sure Merlin would want it, but Arthur felt he had to do something. “Well. Uhm … I don’t want to be nosy of course, but … if you need anything, you can talk to me.” Arthur stuttered out his awkward offer, then, realising Merlin regarded him as a big oaf, he hastily amended, “Or Guinevere, if you prefer. Or Morgana.” 

Merlin didn’t say anything and wouldn’t look at him, so Arthur added, “If you ever get to the stage where there’s a body to deal with, Morgana’s definitely your best bet.” 

Arthur saw a little quirk of Merlin’s lips at that and it gave him a warm feeling. He pressed the point; “I just hope it won’t be my body.” 

At that, Merlin laughed, dimples appearing and eyes brightening and Arthur felt a flush of warmth in his chest. 

“I reckon Morgana will get to the point of deciding to bump you off before I do. Not that I won’t help her if she asks me to.” 

“Duly noted, thank you.” Arthur returned Merlin’s grin with one of his own and they stood there smiling at each other for several beats longer than ought to have been comfortable, until Merlin made an excuse to leave, and Arthur returned to his seat, still smiling to himself. 

4. Thursday

Arthur was not in a good mood when he finally arrived at the office, around eleven. He had just endured another of his father’s three hour inquisitions, over a family breakfast that Morgana had failed to show up for, again. It really wasn't clear to Arthur why Uther had left Arthur in charge when he retired, seeming as he had such utter disdain for everything Arthur did. His jaw was tense and his hands fisted, as he walked past Merlin, giving him a tight-lipped nod and noting there was an enormous array of indigo and blue delphiniums on his desk. Of course there was. 

He left his door ajar, half hoping Merlin might come in after him. He sank down on the sofa by his window and watched Merlin turn away Elyan, reluctantly accepting a stack of files from him in doing so. 

As Elyan left Gwaine approached. He didn’t look like he’d actually come to work at all, judging by the way he was flicking his hair around and leaning into Merlin’s space and they were laughing together. Gwaine was such a flirt, Arthur thought crossly. Merlin was his assistant and he ought to be helping Arthur, not encouraging Gwaine’s inappropriate behaviour. Not that there was any point Gwaine flirting with Merlin, given that big blue bunch of flowers on his desk, proclaiming he was already taken, by ‘Snugglebum’. Arthur rubbed the heels of his hands into his eyes. His chest felt tight and he felt a little sick in his stomach: not that unusual after seeing his father, but watching Merlin and Gwaine seemed to be making it worse. 

After only a minute or two, Merlin shooed Gwaine away, and then hurried in to Arthur’s office. He closed the door behind him as he came in, balancing a mug of coffee and a piece of cake on one of the plates from the shared kitchen. His dark curls flopped into his eyes as he looked down at Arthur and smiled tentatively. “It’s Elena’s birthday so she brought in chocolate cake for breakfast. I saved you some.”

A little of the tightness in Arthur’s chest loosened. Chocolate cake was Arthur’s favourite, which Merlin would have remembered, because he was strangely attentive to that kind of thing. He blinked hard and smiled weakly, holding his hand out for it. Merlin gave it to him and then reached forward his hand hovering near Arthur’s head. For a moment, a hopeful moment, Arthur thought those long fingers were going to stroke through his hair, but Merlin pulled back. He perched on the coffee table in front of Arthur. “Go on. Eat it then,” he instructed, arching his eyebrows expectantly. 

Obediently, Arthur took a mouthful, the rich, sweet flavour filling his mouth. He sighed appreciatively. Merlin’s face broke out into a dimpled smile; his kind, blue eyes bright, as he motioned for Arthur to take another bite. Arthur did what he was told and Merlin patted his knee then got up to tidy some things on Arthur’s desk. 

By the time Arthur had nearly finished the cake he felt much better in every way. 

As he went to take the last mouthful, Merlin came back over to him. “Hey, what about leaving some for me?” he asked, indignantly. Merlin reached forward, trying to grab the plate, but knocked it out of Arthur’s hand. The plate landed on the carpet and the sticky cake spread itself all over Arthur’s white shirt. All his warm feelings towards Merlin vanished in an instant. 

“Look what you’ve done! I’ve got a meeting with an investor in twenty minutes.” 

“It’s your fault, you pig. You just scoffed the biggest piece of chocolate cake I’ve ever seen!” 

“You gave it to me and now you’re complaining about the size?” 

“It was meant for us to share!” Merlin threw his hands up in exasperation.

Arthur growled. “Well you should have made that clear.” 

“The fact that it’s a quarter of a cake wasn’t clear enough?” 

A sharp voice cut through their bickering. “That’s enough, you two. We can hear you down the hallway.” 

Arthur and Merlin both looked around to see Guinevere standing in the doorway, her hands on her hips and her expression the apogee of disappointment. 

“He started it,” Arthur said sullenly. “He tried to snatch my cake.”

“It was my cake which I gave to you, you cabbagehead!” Merlin exclaimed. He turned to Gwen. “Can you believe him?” 

Gwen’s mouth twitched. “You’ve not been here long, Merlin, but I would still have thought you’d know it’s dangerous to get between Arthur and his cake.” 

Arthur frowned at her backhanded support and Merlin grinned. Arthur scowled at him. “The issue at hand is not the cake I’ve eaten,” he reminded them, “it’s the cake on my shirt.” 

“Merlin, you can take care of that, can’t you?” Gwen asked. 

Merlin rolled his eyes and nodded. He muttered something unintelligible under his breath, flapping his hand in Arthur’s general direction. The worst of the cake marks disappeared. 

“Can’t you do better than that?” Arthur grimaced.

“Cover it up with your tie,” Merlin shot back. 

Gwen interrupted before Arthur could say anything to further antagonise his assistant. “Merlin, would you be a dear and see if you can get it a bit cleaner, please? It reflects badly on all of us when Arthur looks like a slob.” She smiled brightly at them both. 

“I resent that,” Arthur said, but he fell silent as Merlin stepped up to him. Merlin put his hands on Arthur’s chest and closed his eyes. Their equal height meant Merlin’s breath ghosted over Arthur’s face making his skin tingle as Merlin whispered another incantation, the words soft and exotic. Arthur had never been more aware of the heat of someone’s touch or the movement of their lips: the hairs stood up on the back of his neck and he almost swayed when Merlin finally dropped his hands, breaking the contact. Merlin opened his deep blue eyes, meeting Arthur’s gaze with parted lips, before he looked away, spots of pink high on his cheeks. 

“Well done, Merlin. That looks much better.” Gwen’s cheerful approval broke the moment and Arthur stepped back, rapidly trying to collect himself and hoping neither of them could hear his heart hammering away in his chest. 

Gwen’s mobile rang and she glanced at the screen. “I need to take this. Stop fighting or flirting or whatever it is you’re doing and get on with your day please.” She left the room and Merlin followed her out.

Arthur looked through the, admittedly, extremely helpful briefing page Merlin had prepared for him, before he gathered his papers for his appointment with the investor and headed out. Merlin had gone to some interminable department meeting so Arthur didn’t have to, so as he passed Merlin’s desk he couldn’t resist looking at the card that had come with today’s  flowers. His brow creased in confusion as he read,

5. Friday

Arthur arrived at the office early on Friday morning, determined to get some answers about what was up with Merlin. He knew he had no right to pry into Merlin’s personal life, but he was concerned. Curious, too, he could admit it. But mostly concerned. 

If Merlin wasn’t well he wanted to be sure that he - well the company - was there for him. Merlin hadn’t been employed long enough to be entitled to company sick pay, for instance, and Arthur knew that Guinevere would not let him make an exception for one employee, but Arthur could always change the whole company policy, if necessary. He felt very strongly that Merlin needed to be taken care of and he was not convinced that ‘Snugglebum’ was up to the job, given that in just one week he had had to send apology flowers, and then, two days later, more flowers to thank Merlin for putting up with him. 

Annoyingly, Merlin wasn’t at his desk when Arthur arrived, although there was a takeaway coffee with a note saying Yes this is for you, you big arse. Arthur snorted and picked the coffee up gratefully. 

He turned to go into his office, and through the glass he saw Guinevere and Merlin sitting on the sofa deep in conversation. His annoyance turned to concern as he took in their serious faces, his mind returning to the ‘get well soon’ flowers of yesterday. He flumped into Merlin’s chair, restlessly spinning it backwards and forwards as he sipped the coffee and waited for them to finish.

Eventually, the door opened. “Morgana is going to be delighted,” Gwen said as she came out. 

“Thank you so much for all the help,” Merlin replied. 

“Not at all. Fingers crossed it works out. I’m rooting for you both.” 

They hugged quickly and Gwen smiled warmly at Merlin. It wasn’t the sort of smile you gave someone who had just told you they were extremely ill. And Morgana was evil, but not in the delighted-someone-is-sick way, especially not Merlin, who was one of her favourites. Something unclenched in Arthur’s chest as he concluded that Merlin couldn’t have been telling Gwen about his illness. So, sick enough for flowers, from the temperance society, but not sick enough to need to tell HR? Arthur was confused.

Once Gwen had gone, Merlin turned to Arthur. He stuck his chin out and said, unapologetically, “I had something private to talk to Gwen about, so we used your office.” 

For some reason, Arthur didn’t feel like making a thing of it as he normally would. “Of course. Use it again if you need to,” he said. He didn’t add, I hope you’re okay.

Merlin’s expression softened and he smiled. It was boyish and unguarded. Arthur might have described it as fond if it had been directed at someone else. “Thanks.” 

When Arthur got back from his two o’clock meeting Merlin was, as usual, conspicuous by his absence and, also unsurprisingly, there were flowers on his desk. A huge bouquet of cream roses, white orchids and pale green hydrangeas. It was the most ostentatious arrangement of the whole week. 

All the air rushed out of Arthur’s lungs when he read the card:  

“To Merlin, Congratulations on your new job! Love Morgana.” 

He screwed his eyes shut telling himself to breathe. Once he’d managed a few rattley breaths he opened his eyes and looked at the card again, convinced he must have made a mistake. But, no; that was still Morgana’s flamboyant handwriting, still congratulating Merlin on his new job. Merlin was leaving! That’s what he must have been telling Guinevere this morning. 

Morgana knew, and she was pleased for him. Had he really been so awful to Merlin that Morgana was glad he was leaving him? 

It felt like he was inhaling broken glass as he blinked and screwed his eyes shut. But quickly he peeled them open again, knowing he had to face this; that he only had himself to blame. He was an insufferable prat. Merlin had told him so, he had just thought that Merlin didn’t mind, that it was almost said affectionately, that he understood that … that … What? That Arthur sniped at him because he trusted him? Because he thought they both enjoyed the banter? Because Merlin stood up to him and Arthur needed that - someone, who called him out, but still stood by him? 

Except Merlin wasn’t standing by him. 

He pushed away all those hurting thoughts. With a scowl, he scooped the flowers into his arms and stormed down the corridor to Guinevere’s office. 

He pushed his way in, making the door bang against the wall. Gwen’s assistant, Sefa, flinched. Guinevere rolled her eyes at him. “Arthur, wait there. Sefa, I think we had better continue this in a bit. Do you have things to get on with for now?” 

With a nervous nod, Sefa sidled out the door, trying to keep as much space between herself and Arthur’s glowering form as she could. 

Sighing, Gwen indicated the vacated chair. “Sit down Arthur.” 

Arthur thumped the flowers on the desk, making the bag of water they were tied in wobble threateningly, but he sat as he had been told to. “Merlin’s leaving me,” he said, and he’d meant it to sound angry but his voice cracked and his eyes felt hot. 

Gwen gave him a gentle smile and Arthur felt like hitting something, though he wouldn’t of course, especially not in front of Guinevere. She would be so disappointed in him. 

“He’s not leaving. He’s going to work for Morgana,” she said. 

Arthur let out an angry snort. How could Morgana steal Merlin from him? How could Guinevere let her? 

“It was Merlin’s request,” she added, expression kind, even as the glass shards in Arthur’s lungs dug further in. This was Arthur’s fault then. Morgana hadn’t tempted him, Arthur had driven him away. 

“What if I refuse to let him go?” Arthur asked, shakily. “Doesn’t he have to give a month’s notice?” 

Gwen shook her head and reached out to pat Arthur’s hand. “Now come on Arthur. You don’t want to stand in Merlin’s way. He’s too bright to be an assistant. Morgana has a promotion for him.” 

“Can’t I give him a promotion?” he asked, pitifully. 

Gwen gave an amused huff. “No, Arthur. This is the right thing for Merlin.” She tilted her head, looking at him meaningfully. “And I think it’s going to be good for you too.” 

Arthur grimaced. Hardly. 

“It means he won’t be working for you any longer.” She paused, and then added, “He won’t be your direct report.”

“I know what not working for me means!” Arthur glowered at her. 

“Good. I’m glad that’s all sorted then,” she said, leaning back in her chair with a pleased smile. 

“It is not all sorted! I suppose it’s none of my business now he’s not working for me,” Arthur said, not managing to keep the snideness out of his voice, “but there’s something going on.” 

His concern won over and he leaned forward, heaving in a breath and then letting all his concerns tumble out. “I’m worried about him. Whoever his boyfriend is sounds like a pillock at best, and might be mistreating him - he keeps having to send him flowers to apologise and to thank Merlin for putting up with him. And yesterday he got ‘get well soon’ flowers - it was a huge bouquet - I’m worried he’s ill, or possibly an alcoholic - the flowers were from a temperance society. We ought to offer to help him, shouldn’t we?” 

“Oh, Arthur, bless you. Those flowers weren’t for Merlin. You silly. Why would he suddenly be getting sent daily flowers?” 

“They were there on his desk,” Arthur said, confused.

“No, that’s fair. I guess they are hard to explain, if you don’t know. They were from my husband, Lancelot.” 

“Your husband is sending Merlin flowers?” Arthur didn’t know where to begin with that. 

Gwen laughed. “He’s a florist. I think I told you that. His colleague normally does the flower prolongation magic when people request it, but she’s on holiday this week so Merlin offered to do it. It takes a few hours so Merlin said to bring them into work so he can do it during the day. It doesn’t detract from Merlin’s work and Merlin is doing it as a favour, not being paid, so I didn’t see it as a problem, but I did say maybe he ought to be discreet about it, which is why he didn’t say anything, I suppose.” 

“So, the flowers were all for different people?” 

Gwen nodded. 

“And Merlin isn’t an alcoholic. Or in a bad relationship?” 

“Nope.” 

“And he’s not anyone’s Pookie?” Arthur asked, this last point seeming particularly important to clarify. 

“I doubt it. He isn’t in a relationship,” Gwen said. Then added, “Not right now, anyway. It’s all going to work out, Arthur. You’ll see,” and she winked at him, much to Arthur’s bemusement. 

“Well thank you for explaining things,” he managed, stiffly. 

His chest felt heavy as he walked back to his desk. Gwen was hardly going to find him someone like Merlin again. There wasn’t anyone like Merlin. There was a bitter but familiar taste in his mouth - disappointment, resignation. Loneliness. 

+1. Saturday

Wallowing in bed seemed an entirely appropriate response to yesterday’s events, and Arthur was still doing it at three o’clock on Saturday afternoon. He was unshaven, and there were dried Frosties on his pyjama top from when he’d briefly left his room about an hour ago to get something for lunch and sloshed milk from the cereal bowl all over himself as he’d got back into bed. 

He knew he should get up and do something constructive. He’d feel better even if he just had a shower. With a groan he levered himself from his nest of scrunched up duvet, dog-eared comfort read, and chocolate bar wrappers (they had been breakfast) and shuffled to the bathroom. 

He was feeling better, dressed and halfway through shaving, foam spread across his right cheek but already scraped off his left, when his doorbell rang. He ignored it: the only person who visited was Morgana and she’d let herself in anyway. But it rang again, and, remembering that Mr Monmouth over the road sometimes needed help to get his cat down from on top of the surprisingly high bookshelves with which his house was filled, he grabbed a towel, roughly wiping off the rest of the shaving foam and went downstairs, cursing as the doorbell rang for a third time. 

As he entered the hall he saw his letterbox push open and a bright, cerulean eye peered through it. “Don’t hide. I can see you, Arthur,” Merlin’s familiar voice called. 

Without his permission, Arthur’s heart leapt, and he silently reprimanded it for being so naively optimistic. There could hardly be anything good about Merlin being here. It must be something work related, after all Merlin was still his assistant until Monday morning, when Morgana got him. Nevertheless he was glad Merlin hadn’t come forty-five minutes earlier and caught him in his milk-soaked, frostie-encrusted pyjamas. 

He pulled the door open and Merlin burst into laughter. Arthur scowled. 

“You look like half a Father Christmas.” Merlin brushed a warm finger along the underside of Arthur’s jaw sending shivers across Arthur’s skin, then presented Arthur with a froth covered finger. “You've got foam here.”

“I was shaving.”

“In the afternoon?” Merlin said, arching an eyebrow. 

“Yes,” he said, stubbornly refusing to offer further explanation. 

“Okay. Afternoon shaving. I can work with that; it’s just good to know.” 

Arthur narrowed his eyes. Merlin looked so sunny, optimistic and bright, and it hurt Arthur that Merlin’s feelings about not working for him any longer were clearly completely different from his own emotions about the situation. “What are you doing here, Merlin? I’m busy.” 

Merlin looked a little chastened. “Yes of course. Well, I know you were eyeing up the flowers on my desk all week and I thought you might like some yourself, so …” Merlin darted to the side of the porch and came back with a bunch of two dozen crimson roses, rich and vibrant, wrapped in black tissue paper with a gold border and tied with a golden ribbon. They were unusual, stunning, and Arthur’s favourite colour. 

Merlin thrust the flowers at Arthur. “For you.”

Utterly bemused, Arthur took them. “Thank you," He said instinctively. He couldn't leave Merlin standing on the doorstep, so he added, "Come in then." 

They must be some sort of apology for leaving, Arthur thought as he led Merlin to the kitchen and started looking through his cupboards for something to put them. Merlin was fidgeting and when Arthur stood up with a large jug which would have to do until he had time to go and buy a vase, Merlin huffed and leant over, pulling the card from the arrangement and pushing it at Arthur. “Read it! Please.” 

With a frown, Arthur took it from him, noticing how Merlin was biting his bottom lip, eyebrows pinched together. He turned the card over and read the message:

“How about dinner?” 

Arthur was confused. “Dinner?” he asked. “If this is to apologise for you leaving me and going to work for Morgana, you don’t have to. I know I’m difficult to work for. You put up with me longer than some of my other assistants.” 

“Oh my God! You are being so dense!” 

Arthur bristled. “Well, I’m sorr—” 

“I am not leaving you,” Merlin interrupted. “I mean I am leaving your direct employment, but only so you’re not my boss any longer. So I’m free to ask you to dinner.” He jabbed a finger at the card with the dinner invitation, which Arthur was still holding awkwardly between his thumb and finger.

Arthur still felt confused. “You want to eat food together?” 

“A date!” Merlin threw his hands up. “You giant clotpole with your strangely endearing abandonment issues. The flowers are to say, Will you go out with me? Lets go on a date! I want to be your boyfriend!” 

“Oh.” A warmth crept through Arthur’s body as he finally understood. “Oh!” 

He paused, letting it sink in, then he tilted his head and grinned, feeling giddy and a little mischievous at the unexpected turn of events. “Well as you seem so desperate about it, I suppose I can let you take me out to dinner.” 

Merlin huffed. “You are the desperate one. Morgana and Guinevere despaired of you. I am taking you somewhere very expensive, obviously, and for that rude comment, you can pick up the bill. ” 

“It’s going to be like that is it, Pookie?” Arthur asked. He was smiling stupidly, he could feel his cheeks hurting with it. 

Merlin laughed. “Oh you better believe it. Snugglebum.”