Work Text:
“You have got to be joking,” Arthur mutters to himself. At first, he thinks his eyes are deceiving him. Surely, it can’t be…
Oh, but it is. There, right next to the main entrance of the company building, stands none other than Merlin Fucking Emrys, grinning ear to ear. It makes his stupidly sharp cheekbones more prominent than usual. He’s holding a rectangular sign that Arthur can’t read but he has a feeling he knows what’s on it, because Merlin has pulled a similar stunt before. It was never in front of Arthur’s workplace, though.
He stomps over, summoning his Pendragon glare™.
“Arthur!” Merlin beams at him, and Arthur wants to… he wants to… Ugh! “What a lovely surprise.”
Surprise, his arse. As if anyone could miss the giant Pendragon logo.
“What are you bloody doing here?”
Merlin all but shoves the sign in Arthur’s face, the words Free Hugs staring back at him and mocking him.
“Offering emotional support.”
Arthur slams his hand onto the sign, hoping to cause some serious damage. To his regret, it’s sturdier than it looks.
“You can shove your emotional support—” He catches himself in time, just as one of his senior coworkers passes by. He gives the man a strained smile, then rounds on Merlin. “You’re scaring off potential clients. Get lost.”
Merlin makes a disapproving sound. “On the contrary. I’m sure any clients of yours will appreciate a bit of TLC, after you’ve finished sucking every penny out of them.”
Arthur bristles and has to physically restrain himself from wrapping his hands around Merlin’s throat and strangling him right there.
You can’t go to jail. You wouldn’t survive without two showers a day and a protein shake.
“Excuse me?!”
“Oh, sorry, I stuttered.” Merlin places a hand over his heart in a mock apology. “I meant after they leave a meeting with you.”
His irritation is replaced by genuine hurt. This isn’t fair. Arthur is well aware of Uther’s reputation, and he’s well aware that nobody likes to deal with insurance companies. But Arthur isn’t an exploitative, money-grabbing corporate arsehole. Working for his father’s company had never been his first choice—correction, it was never a choice—but it is what it is, and he’s determined to give it his best. It’s possible to be successful without ripping people off. It’s possible to be successful and actually help people.
But he will not defend himself to Merlin. If Merlin wants to believe the stereotype without gathering all the facts, then so be it. Arthur doesn’t give a damn. He doesn’t.
“Don’t you have something better to do?” He folds his arms on his chest. “Doodling in a notebook or something?”
Merlin rolls his eyes and gives Arthur a sweet smile. Arthur hates it. “It’s called graphic design and it just so happens I can make my own schedule. Oh, here, let me give you my business card.” He reaches into his back pocket and offers a card to Arthur. “That logo of yours is atrocious. I'd even give you a discount.”
Arthur looks at it like Merlin just presented him with a dead rat. He feels his face heat with rage, and he wouldn't be surprised if steam was coming out of his ears.
“Get lost before I get security to deal with your skinny arse.”
“Security? Oh, you mean Percy!” He shoots a glance over Arthur’s shoulder where Percival is dutifully guarding the main entrance. “He’s such a lovely bloke.”
Arthur frowns. He looks at the Free Hugs sign, then at Merlin. Putting one and one together, he spins on his heel and fixes Percival with a look of sheer betrayal.
Percival fidgets uncomfortably. He doesn’t look in their direction, staring ahead instead.
“Percival,” Arthur says slowly, “you didn’t…”
“Uh… I…” Percival shuffles his feet, his eyes cartoonishly wide as they flick between Arthur and Merlin, before dropping to the ground. “It was a rough week.”
Unbelievable.
“What else can you expect, working for your father,” Merlin mocks.
Before Arthur can say something, a middle-aged lady stops in front of them, gazing at Merlin hopefully. Merlin, the obnoxious wanker, lights up, drops the sign and opens his arms. The hug goes on unnecessarily long. Uncomfortable, Arthur drops his gaze to his shoes, tapping his foot impatiently.
Once the lady is gone, Merlin gives him a triumphant smirk.
Biting back a colourful curse, Arthur says, “If I see you here tomorrow…”
Merlin waves a dismissive hand. “Sorry. Mondays and Thursdays only.” Merlin gives him a thorough once-over, and Arthur’s face heats. “You sure you don’t want a hug before you go? You look like you need it.”
Wiping that irritating grin off Merlin’s face might just be worth the jail time.
Eventually, reason wins, and Arthur angrily stomps away. Lunch. He needs to get lunch. Not that he has much appetite.
“Have a good day, Arthur!”
Maybe he should start bringing lunch with him on Mondays and Thursdays, so he doesn’t have to go out.
Nope, no way. He’s not giving Merlin the satisfaction. He’s a Pendragon. He doesn’t run away.
Arthur stares, unseeing, at the computer screen, the numbers blurring and blending together. What a fucking day.
He startles when the door to his office flies open, Gwaine’s stupid face greeting him.
“You ever getting out of here, or what?”
A glance at the clock tells Arthur it’s lunchtime. He groans, running a hand over his face. “I’m so far behind, it’s not even funny.”
“You need fuel. Come on. I’m famished.”
“You’re always famished,” Arthur grumbles, but gets up and follows Gwaine to the lifts.
If Arthur thought this day couldn’t get worse, he’s proven wrong when they step outside. Fuck. It’s Thursday, isn’t it?
“Merlin!” Gwaine calls. “How are you, my friend?”
Friend? How the hell do they know each other?
Gwaine pouncing on Merlin and sweeping him into a tight hug answers the question. Great. Another one who fell for the stupid sign.
“I’m great,” Merlin says. “You? Still have a soul?”
Gwaine barks out a laugh. “Pfft, who needs that shit? I’ll get by with a charming smile, dashing good looks and an 8-inch—”
“I told you to get lost,” Arthur grits out, the entire exchange raising his hackles.
“Hm, yes.” Merlin taps his chin thoughtfully. “You also ‘borrowed’ my crayons in the second grade and told me you’d give them back. What you say isn’t really worth much.”
Gwaine whistles. “Oh, boy. I sense some major UST here.”
“UST?” Arthur asks.
Gwaine opens his mouth, but Merlin beats him to it. “Unbearable, supercilious twat.”
Arthur inhales sharply, fingers digging into his palms. “I’ll fucking—”
“Whoa, whoa.” Gwaine jumps between them, holding up his hands. “Hold your horses. You might want to take this somewhere more private.” More quietly he adds, “And horizontal.”
“What?”
Gwaine shakes his head and clasps Arthur’s shoulder, subtly steering him away. “You’re in mighty need of a pint, Arthur. After work, of course. Come on, let me buy you lunch first.”
“You always say that, and you always forget your wallet.”
Gwaine shrugs, totally unapologetic. “Well, it’s the thought that counts, right?”
Arthur rolls his eyes, shoots one more scathing glare in Merlin’s direction, and turns away. “Let’s just go.”
And because Merlin has to have the last word, he calls, “Have fun!”
“Spill,” Gwaine says while they wait in a line at a local Prêt à Manger.
Arthur looks at the floor. “Where?”
“No, you idiot,” Gwaine huffs. “Why are the pretty ones always so dumb? Spill about Merlin.”
Arthur’s shoulders tense. “What about him?”
“There’s a history there. Come on, give daddy all the filthy deets.”
Arthur scrunches his nose, suppressing the urge to gag. “First, gross. Second, there are no deets. Definitely no filthy deets.”
Gwaine groans long-sufferingly, pouting like a kid who’s been told he can’t have candy. “Jesus, you are repressed.”
“I’m not repressed. I just don’t see what the point is.” At Gwaine’s unimpressed face, Arthur finally gives in. “We went to the same schools. We didn’t get along.”
It was all thanks to Arthur’s mum, who wouldn’t hear a word about private and boarding schools, much to Uther’s chagrin. His father never knew how to say no to Ygraine, so it was no wonder he eventually caved. The idea was for Arthur to fit in with the ‘normal’ kids, who didn’t have thousands upon thousands in their trust funds and whose parents didn’t drive a Jaguar or own a yacht. To teach him humility and the value of hard work, or something like that.
Yeah, Arthur wasn’t very popular. Definitely not with Merlin, who came from a middle of nowhere place called Ealdor and whose clothes were so worn they were falling apart on him. But unlike Arthur, everyone loved Merlin.
The way he’s made friends with Percival and Gwaine shows that people still eat out of his palm nearly two decades later. Fucking figures.
“Uh-huh.”
“What?”
At the counter, Arthur presents the sandwich he took from the display and taps his phone to the card terminal, then steps aside to make room for Gwaine.
“Nothing.” Gwaine’s expression suggests otherwise. “Just sounds to me like someone had a crush and never acted on it.”
Arthur can only laugh at the ridiculous suggestion. “Merlin doesn’t have a crush on me.”
“I meant you, idiot.” Before Arthur can react, Gwaine grins a sly grin, giving Arthur a heated look that makes him want to take a shower ASAP. “That being said, I’ll be damned if Merlin doesn’t want to get into those pants.”
There are so many things wrong with that statement that Arthur only manages to say, “You really love the sound of your own voice, don’t you?”
“It’s a great voice. Especially when it’s saying all the dirty–”
“Right.” Arthur swiftly backs off. “I need to get back to the office.”
“Oh, before you go, would you mind?” He waves the chicken wrap at Arthur with a sheepish smile. “Forgot my wallet.”
“I hate you.”
The first few weeks aren’t that bad. Each Monday and Thursday lunchtime Arthur makes sure to keep his shit together. He and Merlin exchange… pleasantries, Arthur glowers, Merlin enjoys himself far too much, and Arthur leaves. Rinse, repeat.
But then, because some higher power hates Arthur, Merlin’s schedule changes, and suddenly Arthur’s graced with his presence on Tuesdays and Fridays as well. He always used to hate Wednesdays–that point in the week when you’re caught in the middle of a shitstorm and holding your breath, praying to whoever will listen that you can make it till Friday.
Now, Wednesdays are his favourite day of the week.
“Hello, Arthur,” Merlin greets him on Friday. “How’s ruining lives going today?”
Arthur barely looks at him, feeling as though all the life has been sucked out of him. He doesn’t know why he even bothers getting lunch. In less than two hours, he’ll be handing over a report to Uther for one of their most important clients. No pressure, though.
“I’m not in the mood, Merlin.”
To Arthur’s surprise, Merlin doesn’t goad him, nor does he make fun of him. His usual smiles and infuriating grins are nowhere in sight. He purses his lips and wiggles the sign.
“Need a hug?”
The audacity should piss Arthur off, but he doesn’t have the energy to do that either. He gives Merlin an empty look and, deciding to forgo the lunch–his stomach wouldn’t be able to hold it for long anyway–he goes back to the office. Maybe he should have another look at the report, just to be sure.
Sweat trickles down Arthur’s temples as he watches Uther flip through the manila folder. There are only a few pages, but it feels like an eternity before Uther finally closes it and looks at Arthur.
“Is this a joke?”
Fuck. “I…”
“A first-year could do better than this rubbish.” Uther waves the folder in the air, then slaps it on the desk. “You expect me to present this to Summers?”
Swallowing the bile in his throat, Arthur wills his voice to remain steady. “I covered all the areas you wanted me to, took into consideration the—”
“Rewrite it.”
Arthur exhales shakily. Okay, yeah. He can do that. He’ll go over what Uther doesn’t like again. He’ll have to stay after hours, but that’s nothing new.
Before he can ask which parts Uther wants him to rewrite, a whirring sound makes him freeze. He watches, helpless, as the pages he’s spent the past three weeks working on get eaten by the shredder.
Uther watches him cooly. He puts his elbows on the desk, raising an eyebrow. “What are you waiting for? Get back to work. Actual work.”
Speechless and tasting bile on his tongue, Arthur gives him a curt nod and flees, willing the burn in his eyes to go away.
Arthur gets out a little after 7pm. He comes to a halt when he sees Merlin in his usual spot. Except instead of holding the sign, he’s sitting on the ground, doing something on his phone. Once he notices Arthur, he springs to his feet.
“Hi.” For the first time, his voice is void of teasing. He runs his gaze over Arthur, making him want to shrink or become invisible. He doesn’t want to be seen like this, especially not by Merlin. “Finished for the day?”
Arthur manages a brief nod. He doesn’t trust his voice not to betray him.
Uncertainty flashes across Merlin’s face. He reaches down, taking the sign from where it’s propped against the wall. He holds it up.
And like a dam breaking, something in Arthur cracks open. His legs move on their own and he doesn’t fight it when Merlin drops the sign so he can wrap his arms around him.
It should take him aback, how perfectly they fit against each other, but Arthur is too tired to think. He’s tired of feeling like a failure all the damn time. At least in this moment, holding onto Merlin and focusing on the strength of his arms around him, he can forget everything.
“Don’t know about you,” Merlin’s breath tickles Arthur’s neck, “but I’m starving.” He pulls away slowly, but Arthur has to make an effort to let go and not cling on. “Want to grab dinner?”
In lieu of an answer, Arthur’s stomach grumbles loudly, and he blushes. Merlin just laughs, but it doesn’t sound like he’s laughing at him, so Arthur doesn’t take offence.
How come he’s hungry already? Oh, right. He hasn’t eaten anything since his smoothie for breakfast. Seems that his appetite is back.
“Yeah. That sounds good.”
Merlin smiles, wide and genuine. The difference between the usual smiles he gives Arthur and the one he’s giving him now is striking. He bends down and picks up the sign, throws his rucksack over his shoulder and takes Arthur’s elbow.
“I know a place.”
Arthur will be damned, but he follows without questions.
Once in front of said place, Arthur digs his heels in.
“No way. Are you trying to kill me?”
Merlin rolls his eyes. “Trust me. It’s not what you’re thinking.”
What Arthur is thinking is that he doesn’t want to die at the fresh age of 29.
“I can’t believe your uncle got a licence to actually open a place.” It’s a wonder that Gaius hasn’t killed anyone with his ‘cooking’ yet.
“He’s got much better over the years. I come here often. It’s safe, I promise.”
Making peace with his fate, he follows Merlin inside Tasty Magic Tavern.
“I can’t believe this,” Arthur says through a mouthful of spinach and ricotta cannelloni (so he’s on a veggie streak, don’t judge). So far, his stomach hasn’t freaked out, and he doesn’t feel like he’ll have to make an emergency escape to the loo. “This actually tastes good.”
Merlin hums, licking melted cheese from his fingers.
Arthur quickly looks at his plate. His stomach flutters strangely. Huh. Maybe he spoke too soon and he might need the loo after all.
“I know, right? It’d seem that all those experiments, kitchen repairs and the occasional food poisoning were worth something.”
A memory springs to mind, and Arthur chuckles. “Do you remember your mum’s 40th birthday?”
“Oh, God.” Merlin covers his face with his hands. “Please, don’t.”
Arthur laughs, stealing a cheesy fry from Merlin’s plate.
Gaius’ place seems to be doing well, given how many tables are occupied. If someone had told Arthur that would be the case one day, he’d have probably pulled a muscle from laughing too hard. It’s not that he doesn’t wish Gaius all the best, but memories of that fateful summer still haunt him. He (and possibly every other person at the party) had spent days in agony, waiting until his digestive system spouted out every single piece of what was inside it.
Ygraine and Hunith used to be quite close. Sure, they are both the type of people who are friends with everybody, but knowing that Arthur and Merlin went to school together pushed them even closer. Not even Arthur’s adamance that he didn’t want to attend Emrys' birthday parties or any other parties would deter her.
Had Arthur known it was Gauis who cooked for Hunith’s birthday, he’d never have touched a crumb.
“Pretty sure there was no activated charcoal left at Boots by the time we recovered.”
Merlin makes a face, but a smile pulls at his lips. Arthur’s strangely fascinated by the way it makes his eyes turn into half-moons. His cheekbones are even more striking from up-close.
“It’s a good thing London is so big,” Merlin says. “Can you imagine if we lived in a small town where everybody knows everybody?”
“Like Ealdor?”
Surprise flickers across Merlin’s face. Arthur frowns. Did he say something wrong?
“Yeah, like Ealdor.”
“We’d have to move countries.”
“Continents.”
“Where would you run to?”
“Japan,” Merlin says without missing a beat. “No contest.”
Arthur huffs, taking a sip of his kombucha. “You’d draw that animated porn, wouldn’t you?”
Merlin holds up a finger. “It’s called hentai, and…” He makes a thinking face. “That’s not a bad idea.”
Shaking his head, Arthur says, “There must be big money in it.”
Merlin smiles at that, but it’s brief and kind of sad. He looks at Arthur, his eyes soft and glimmering in the warm light of the tavern. “It’s not all about money, Arthur.”
Arthur swallows and has to take another sip to soothe his suddenly dry throat. He doesn’t dare look at Merlin, feeling unusually vulnerable with his focus on him.
“No, I guess it’s not.”
Merlin is quiet for a while. He slaps a hand on the table and says, “Okay, your turn. Where would you run to?”
Arthur doesn’t usually let himself think about it much. Has he ever thought of dropping everything, shoving all he has into a suitcase, and taking off somewhere no one knows him? Somewhere he wouldn’t be found, where he would be free to live his own life? Sure. But only in brief, passing moments. That way, it hurts less when he wakes up to reality.
There is a place he’s never been able to stop thinking about. “Bali.”
Merlin’s eyebrows shoot up. “I hear they have great yoga retreats.”
Arthur doesn’t tell him he’s heard the same. That he’s researched it. He doesn’t tell him he does yoga in the morning and sometimes in the evening, if he gets home at a normal hour.
“Uh-huh.” Blushing, he reaches for his glass again.
Merlin watches him like he knows Arthur is watering down the truth. To Arthur’s relief, he doesn’t call him out on it.
“Well, if you ever go, take me with you. I could use some stretching.”
Bubbles shoot up Arthur’s nose, tears springing to his eyes. Bloody Merlin. He did that on purpose. Now all Arthur can see is Merlin in yoga pants, those really colourful, breezy ones, maybe with a mandala pattern. And his lithe body twisted in all kinds of poses.
Coughing awkwardly into his arm, Arthur rasps out. “And a tan.”
“What tan?” Merlin says incredulously. “I only have two colour settings, Arthur; pasty white or lobster red.”
Taking in Merlin’s smooth, alabaster skin, Arthur understands the point. “Well, then. We’ll have to meet in Japan instead.”
He knows they’re just saying whatever, but it feels like so much more. Like instead of discussing dreams that will never come true, they’re talking about their vacation plans. Something they can do in the near future.
Arthur knows it's just wishful thinking, but he holds onto the illusion just a little longer. “Sounds good.”
The grin Merlin gives him tells him he knows exactly what Arthur’s thinking. Strangely, Arthur is okay with that.
Arthur’s phone buzzes in his pocket. Right, he’s set up an alarm for 1pm. He saves the document he’s been working on and heads for the elevator.
Things have been way less miserable for him since he and Merlin broke the ice two weeks ago. He’s still not sure how he feels about Merlin standing in front of his building four days a week and offering free hugs to strangers. He definitely doesn’t understand the appeal. Who would want to hug someone who’s sweaty, reeks of cigarettes or bathed in a ton of sickly sweet perfume? And Merlin does this willingly? Bollocks. Not to mention that Merlin admitted to having been groped more times than he can count.
Arthur shivers. That’s like a nightmare come to life.
Speaking of groping…
“What are you doing?” Arthur hisses at Gwaine whose hands are all over Merlin. To his annoyance, Merlin doesn’t seem to mind, unbothered by Gwaine being… well, Gwaine.
Gwaine wraps his arm around Merlin’s shoulders. “Merlin’s giving me emotional support.”
“Stop molesting him. This is a public place.”
Gwaine winks. “It’s not molesting if he’s into it.”
Arthur has to take several deep breaths to steady himself. When he’s marginally more composed, he turns to Merlin. “Ready to go?”
“Where are you going?” Gwaine asks.
“Lunch.”
“Without me?!”
“Didn’t you just come back from your break?”
“That’s irrelevant. I can always eat.” He gives Merlin a sleazy grin.
Arthur nearly flies off the handle. Thankfully, Merlin saves him from committing manslaughter.
“Why don’t you go grope Percy, Gwaine? He looks kind of lonely.”
Gwaine’s face lights up. He zeros in on Percival, humming approvingly. “You’re right. Yo, Percy! How are you doing?”
Arthur shoots a quick glance over his shoulder. Percival’s haunted expression is rather comical, desperate for an escape route, but knowing he can’t leave his spot.
Any other time, Arthur would feel bad for him, but not this time. “Ready?”
Merlin studies him silently. He nods, leaving the sign on the ground to pick up later and grabs his rucksack.
“What’s wrong?” he asks Arthur as they’re crossing the road.
“Nothing’s wrong.” He can see Merlin smiling from the corner of his eye.
“You’re cute when you’re jealous.”
Arthur bristles, blood rushing to his face. “I’m not jealous! Why would I be jealous?”
Merlin bumps their shoulders together. “You tell me.”
Arthur remains stubbornly silent.
Something’s changed. They still have lunch together and talk about anything that comes to mind, whether it’s Arthur complaining about working for his father, Merlin sharing the ridiculous requests his clients sometimes have, or the two of them reminiscing about old times, laughing at how much they couldn’t stand each other.
But Arthur can’t shake the feeling that there’s some sort of tension hanging around them whenever they’re together. He can’t also shake the feeling that sooner or later, that tension will become unbearable and something will snap.
It's one of the reasons why, after weeks of tiptoeing around each other, Arthur internally freaks out when he steps outside after having finished for the day and finds Merlin waiting for him.
“Merlin? Why are you still here?”
Merlin heaves himself up, brushing dirt off his jeans. He gives Arthur a reluctant smile. “I’ve been waiting for you.”
Arthur throws a guilty glance at his watch. 8:34. “You should’ve said something. I would’ve tried to wrap up work earlier.”
Merlin shakes his head. “I don’t mind.”
Silence stretches between them. For the first time since they’d started spending time together, it’s uncomfortable. Arthur’s afraid to be the one to break it, in case he says something wrong. But Merlin appears just as reluctant, his fingers twitching at his sides and his eyes looking anywhere but Arthur.
Arthur’s eyes are drawn to the sign propped against the wall. “Still open for business?” Yep, definitely a stupid question. There’s barely anyone around at this hour.
“Uh, yeah.” Merlin rubs the back of his neck. Weird. Since when does Merlin get nervous? He’s a force of nature, unapologetic and untamable. “Yeah, I…”
With a slight hesitation, Merlin takes the sign and holds it in front of himself.
Arthur almost takes him up on the offer–he could really use a hug right now–but to his surprise, Merlin flips the sign around.
“That’s…” A lump lodges in Arthur’s throat. “That’s new.” He blinks, then blinks again, making sure he’s not imagining things. But no. Free Kisses is still written there: big, curvy words in black sharpie against the white background.
Merlin chuckles, dropping his gaze to the sign shyly. “Only for the VIP.”
Arthur’s breath catches, his heart hammering against his ribcage. Is he having a cardiac episode? Maybe he should call an ambulance. He knows for a fact it runs in the family.
He reads the sign again, and his lips tingle in anticipation. “VIP, huh? Is there like… a flat fee I need to pay to become one?” Jesus, what nonsense is he even saying?
A smile tugs on Merlin’s lips. He presses them together, like he’s trying to stay serious. The mischievous glint in his eyes gives him away.
“There is indeed a small fee required.”
Oh. Okay, they’re playing a game. That’s fine. Arthur can play. This is familiar. They’ve teased each other before.
“What is it?”
Merlin’s gaze locks with Arthur’s. “A date?”
A giggle starts to form in Arthur’s chest. It makes him giddy with hope and he almost blurts out a resolute yes! But they’re playing a game. It's easier to talk about things when it’s a game, and so, despite feeling kind of stupid, Arthur carries on.
“Is it like… like a one time payment? Or do you offer a subscription?” It doesn’t even make sense, but he doesn’t care.
Clearly, Merlin doesn’t either. His eyes sparkle, and Arthur knows he’s holding back from laughing, or giggling, or both. It makes him feel better about acting like a schoolgirl with a crush. If Gwaine saw him right now, he’d never let him live it down.
“Well, there’s no lock-in contract.” Merlin gives him a meaningful look. “But we highly value loyal customers.”
Arthur has to put a hand over his mouth to prevent any embarrassing sounds from escaping. Jesus, so embarrassing. His only saving grace is that Merlin doesn’t seem to be faring any better.
“That sounds…” He clears his throat. “... good. I’m a creature of habit. Subscription sounds like something right up my alley.”
Merlin’s smile takes over his entire face. “Yeah?”
“Uh-huh.” Feeling brave, Arthur takes a step forward. And then another. And one more, until he and Merlin are only inches apart, the sign creating a barrier between them. “But, you see, we need to seal the deal first. To avoid any future disputes.”
Merlin quickly schools his expression into something more serious. “Understandable.”
Arthur’s heart does a happy little dance, and he closes the remaining gap between them. The sign drops to the ground. Finally, Merlin’s hands are free, and they immediately land on Arthur. One of them cups his face and the other travels to the back of his neck and up, sliding through his hair. Merlin’s smile is wide and breathtakingly beautiful, and Arthur can’t wait to find out what it tastes like.
Merlin moves first, latching onto Arthur’s lips with the same desperation Arthur feels simmering inside him. And for a moment, the rest of the world falls away.
Home, Arthur thinks as he parts his lips for Merlin, greedily absorbing everything Merlin’s willing to give. Tastes like home.
Arthur’s relieved to find out he's not the only one who’s breathless when they pull apart. Merlin’s breath is hot against his lips, and Arthur can’t resist stealing one more, quick kiss. The grin Merlin gives him is worth it. To resist temptation, he puts some space between them but keeps his hands on the small of Merlin’s back. Merlin’s own hands stay on Arthur’s shoulders, just as reluctant to let go.
“Congratulations, Mr Pendragon.” Merlin’s back to speaking in that fake business voice. “You’re all set. Pleasure doing business with you.”
If this isn’t the best deal of Arthur’s life, he doesn’t know what is. And the best thing about it is that it didn’t cost him anything. It’s just an exchange of hearts.