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Merlin was perfectly aware that he had never truly loved anything in his life.
Except perhaps for his motorcycle.
It wasn’t nearly as sad as it sounded; his motorcycle was Merlin’s only constant companion. It had been around the country with him, in every town and city and port. There wasn’t a place that Merlin had been that his bike hadn’t, and for that he was eternally grateful.
He didn’t much care that his bike really didn’t have a choice in the matter.
Or any feelings.
And could never love him back.
That was completely fine.
“You’re in Camelot? Since when? It’s been….what? A year since I’ve heard from you?”
“Two,” Merlin corrected Lance with only a twinge of guilt. They had been so close during high school, but Lance had gone on to the Ivy League and Merlin…Merlin had most decidedly not. Drifting was destined to happen.
“I’ll meet you at your office?” Merlin suggested, almost letting himself hope. “Buy you dinner to make up for being a complete dick?”
“I doubt one dinner would make up for it,” Lance replied, disgruntled. “I’m thinking at least six or seven. But I’m willing to bet you’re not staying in town for that long.”
“I don’t know yet,” Merlin told him, and it was the truth. He had been feeling…something, these past few weeks, an undeniable itch to go home to Camelot, see the place where he’d grown up, apologize to Lance, and maybe, just maybe, he’d be able to figure out who he really was beneath the layers of sarcasm and emotional baggage.
Lance exhaled heavily through the phone. “Well, at least that’s a start. Are you going to see Gaius at all while you’re here?”
“Absolutely not,” Merlin said briskly, pinpricks of something that definitely wasn’t guilt in his gut. “I’ll see you at five?”
“Sure,” Lance said casually, but his voice then became commanding. “Don’t be late.”
“When am I ever late?” Merlin asked faux-innocently, but he understood the implications. It wasn’t too late to fix their friendship, but it was damn well close.
As it turned out, Merlin was late. But he had a perfectly legitimate reason that had nothing to do with him and everything to do with a crime scene.
He’d been cruising on his bike through a residential area that would eventually lead to the medicinal company that Lance worked for when he noticed the whirring of sirens off to his right. Unable to resist his curiosity, he veered left and followed the noise.
The crime scene was a video store on the corner of Pine Avenue, one Merlin remembered coming to when he was a kid and begging Gaius to let him watch Hitchcock. The answer, of course, was no. However, today’s scene was very different in nature. For one thing, it was crawling with detectives, and yellow police tape was everywhere.
But since Merlin was, well, Merlin, he noticed smaller things, too. Like the way everyone was stepping gingerly off the street corner and the blood on their latex gloves. And the fragile way they were handling the man who was sitting, shaking on the bench outside.
Not to mention the way that the shaking man hardly indicated witnessing a murder. That shaking was more indicative of nerves. Even from a sizable distance, Merlin could see the beads of sweat on his forehead, how he shooed away any cop that approached him with a tremor in his hands, how he bit his lip just enough so that Merlin just knew.
Sometimes he wished he could turn it off, whatever was inside his head, but Merlin could read the man’s guilt as easily as if the man had just confessed. And so, because Merlin couldn’t just leave things alone, he pulled off on the opposite curb, and headed across the street.
He regarded the yellow tape as a suggestion, and ducked through to get a better look at the man. Up close, he was even more positive of the man’s guilt. His pupils were dilated, he kept clearing his throat – and yet the cops that surrounded him weren’t even questioning him.
Now that was just shoddy police business.
“Excuse me,” Merlin pulled one of the uniformed officers aside. “Can you direct me to the head detective on this case?”
“Sure, that’s Morgana Le Fay,” the officer pointed over to the store’s doorway, where a striking woman with a mane of silky black hair and towering heels stood, jotting something down in her notebook. “But wait – are you a civilian?”
Merlin didn’t stick around long enough to answer the question, heading immediately for the woman. He cleared his throat as he approached, and the woman put up one finger to stop him from speaking further.
Merlin took an immediate disliking to her.
“Whatever it is, I’m sure it can wait,” the woman snapped as she viciously scribbled in her book. “I have enough to do without civilians meddling in police business.”
“Well, that’s a shame, because I know who did it,” Merlin said pleasantly, the detective’s head jerked up so quickly he was surprised she didn’t have whiplash. Her sharp eyes regarded him with scrutiny.
“Did you have prior knowledge of this murder being committed?” She regarded him with vicious intent.
“No,” Merlin said defensively. “No, I was just driving by.”
“You…were just….driving by.” She laughed derisively with an elegant toss of her hair. “Well, excuse me if I don’t take what you have to say too seriously.”
“Well, it’s the man sitting on the bench over there,” Merlin gestured in that vicinity. “Just so you’re aware.”
“And why do you think this is, mister…?”
“Emrys,” Merlin answered automatically. “Merlin Emrys. And isn’t it obvious? He’s shaking, his pupils are dilated, he won’t let the cops come near him…”
“He just witnessed his coworker’s murder; I think that’s enough to excuse his behavior.”
“But it’s just so indicative of guilt! Someone should at least be taking his statement!” Merlin shook his head in befuddlement at the woman’s direct opposition to him. “Haven’t you ever taken a criminal profiling class?”
He knew he said the wrong thing. The woman’s eyes widened and her mouth set, her voice barely a hiss. “Have you? What right do you have to tell me how to do my job?”
“Look, I just know how to read guilt,” Merlin put his hands up as he took a couple of steps backward. “I’m sorry if I’ve offended you.”
“I recommend vacating this crime scene as soon as possible. We’re trying to do real police work here. Now leave before I arrest you for obstruction of justice.”
“Little extreme,” Merlin winced, unable to hide a sarcastic comment. “But point taken. Good luck, Detective. I’d question the coworker.”
Lance wasn’t too mad at him for being late and Merlin saw on the news later that the man he suspected had been placed under arrest and given a full confession, so Merlin really wrote that incident off as a success.
That was, until he got a call from the police station three days later and was asked to come in.
“Hi,” Merlin greeted pretty curly-haired receptionist with a bright smile. “I’m Merlin Emrys, and I was called in….? I’m not exactly sure why, but when the police summon me, I’m not apt to decline.”
“Of course,” she said with a smile. “I’ll let them know you’re here.”
Merlin only had to wait a few moments before the clacking of high heels alerted him to the returned presence of Detective Le Fay, looking just as terrifyingly attractive as she had at the crime scene. Merlin stood as she approached, but she looked to the receptionist first – and the smile the other woman gave her was one much shyer and more reserved than the one Merlin got. He took note of it.
“Mr. Emrys, thank you for coming in today,” Detective Le Fay said with a feral glint of her perfect teeth. “If you’ll just follow me?”
“Of course,” Merlin said, and headed with her into the bowels of the police station. She led him down a hallway busy with officers before bringing him into an interrogation room. Merlin’s hackles immediately went up when he saw where he was going.
His defenses rose even more when he saw a man standing inside the door. He was beautiful – he had sky blue eyes, his suit jacket fit him just tightly enough that the outlines of his muscles could be seen, and his blond hair glinted despite there being no sunlight.
He also regarded Merlin not with a smile or a frown, but simply with curiosity. He was reserving judgement for now. Merlin immediately sensed that this man was ruled by his head, while his partner was more apt be ruled by her heart.
“Detective Arthur Pendragon,” the man reached out to shake Merlin’s hand.
“Merlin Emrys,” he took it with a friendly smile as he sat down in the interrogation chair. “Can I ask what this is about?”
“Your little tip from the other day,” Le Fay pursed her mouth as she paced about the room. Pendragon, however, had taken a seat across from Merlin. “Turned out to be correct.”
“I wouldn’t have said so if I wasn’t sure,” Merlin said, nonplussed.
“That’s just it – how, exactly, were you sure?”
“I told you, I can read guilt,” Merlin repeated. “I notice things most people don’t. I was just trying to help.”
“But who were you trying to help?” Le Fay clicked her tongue. “Somehow, I doubt it was us.”
“What she means,” Pendragon sent her a guarded look, and Merlin picked up on the obvious tension between them. It wasn’t sexual, as Pendragon hadn’t looked at Le Fay’s rather fantastic rack once since she walked in the room. This was a professional conflict. “Is that we’re not sure what angle you’re trying to play. What did you stand to gain from helping us? And what would you stand to gain from accusing Mr. Hawkhausen?”
“Wait a second,” Merlin interrupted, “you think I’m involved in this?”
“We’re not ruling it out,” Pendragon told him with a measured look. “Personally, I don’t believe a man can read guilt by passing someone on the street. But if you can give us some other reason behind this incident…”
“Or, if you can’t, we’re more than willing to place you under arrest for possible conspiracy,” Le Fay said pleasantly. “It’s your choice.”
“Are you two good cop-bad copping me?” Merlin said with a groan as his gaze flickered between them. “That’s just pathetic. Police work really has gone downhill, hasn’t it?”
“You would know, wouldn’t you, Merlin Emrys?” Le Fay said as she reached for a file on the table, the only decoration in the dreary room. “You were raised by your uncle, who worked in this very department for over thirty years. And then, at age eighteen, you were arrested. And immediately skipped town. For good.”
“In my defense, I was pretty stupid at eighteen. Stupid enough to steal a car, at least. I’m clearly a motorcycle kind of guy. And I would have left Camelot regardless of that arrest. I was just waiting for my diploma at that point.”
“Nonetheless, this is rather suspicious behavior,” Pendragon stated diplomatically. But there was something in his eyes, something that Merlin liked – the man didn’t think he was guilty. At least that was something.
“It was nearly ten years ago,” Merlin tried to point out, but was hushed by Morgana.
“We have reasonable cause at this point, Mr. Emrys. So either start talking or I will arrest you.”
Merlin glared up at her, finally fed up with her blatant disrespect. “What the fuck is your problem?”
“Alright, that’s enough.” Anger flashed in Pendragon’s eyes, which wasn’t the source Merlin was expecting. “Merlin Emrys, you’re under arrest…”
“Wait!” Merlin exclaimed, finally feeling the gravity of what could occur here. They’d never find evidence to hold him, but this incident would insure that Lance wouldn’t trust him again, he’d never be able to face Gaius as long as he lived, and…
And it would mean far too long a time away from his motorcycle.
A terrible, awful, ridiculous idea occurred to him.
Naturally, he rolled with it.
“I knew he was guilty because – because I’m a psychic,” he said, and immediately winced in impact as Le Fay and Pendragon stared at him in shock and derision.
“A what?” Pendragon asked, skeptical and shocked simultaneously.
“A psychic,” Merlin repeated, and then clutched at his head as if he was going to faint. It was a good thing he was such a dramatist. And that he had done theatre in high school.
After a few moments of playacting, groaning, spinning around, and what not, he regarded the detectives with new clarity in his eyes.
“You two just started working together. You’re not sure if it’s going to work out. Le Fay here is apt to fly off the handle, and has just a touch of anger issues. Pendragon, on the other hand, is level-headed to the extreme. He doesn’t like taking risks unless they’re calculated. I feel like he’s a little scared. In fact –” Merlin really hoped that this was an accurate assumption and that the detective didn’t hate him for this “–I think this is his first stint as a detective. Am I right?”
The pair stared at him, mouths hanging open just slightly, and Merlin took that as a cue to continue.
“And Morgana – congratulations on your relationship. Usually, it’s the men that get to sleep with the receptionist. I’m glad that someone’s out there breaking gender stereotypes. Oh, and Arthur thinks I’m innocent, by the way.”
The detectives were essentially fish at this point, their eyes and mouths equally wide.
“Am I free to go then?” Merlin asked, rolling back on the balls of his feet with just a touch of pride.
“Lance….I’ve been thinking that I might stay in town for a while,” Merlin phrased his sentence as carefully as he could as he sat on Lance’s kitchen counter, inhaling a bowl of chili.
Lance blinked at him from his seat at the kitchen table. “You’re…you’re serious?”
“Yeah, I am,” Merlin said, and meant it. “I missed California. I missed you. And I’ve been thinking about opening up my own business.”
“Your – your own what?” Lance dropped his spoon. “You’re fucking with me, Merlin. You haven’t held a job for more than six months in your entire life. You haven’t lived that long in one place since you were eighteen. And a business? You have no idea what running a business entails.”
“But you do,” Merlin said, nervous, but he couldn’t show it. He prided himself on appearing collected at almost all times. “You’ve always been the smart one, the responsible one. Maybe if you could give me a few pointers…”
“What?”
“Then I could stay,” Merlin finished. “And we could be best friends again, like we used to be. I was a dick, Lance, and I’m sorry.”
“Are you ever going to say that to your uncle?”
Merlin exhaled deeply. “Maybe someday, alright? But I have to stick around long enough to do it.”
“What kind of business is this, exactly?” Lance dropped the subject of Gaius, for which Merlin was grateful. “I can’t imagine you being very happy doing….well…anything.”
“I was thinking that it would be something along the lines of a…psychic detective agency?”
“What –”
“Look, long story short, the police think I’m a psychic, and they want me to work a case for them in order to prove it. And clear my name of….other potential transgressions. I want you to come with me tomorrow, be my partner, like when we were kids.”
“Merlin –”
“I know, I know,” Merlin shook his head. “You don’t trust me anymore. But I want to earn that trust back, Lance. So please, take the day off work, and come with me, and if this works out….I’ll move back to Camelot. I’ll open the detective agency. And you can be a part of it if you want, or not. I just want you back in my life again.”
After only a second’s hesitation, Lance finally let his guard down. He always had been soft-hearted. He stood up, walked to Merlin, and threw an arm around his shoulder. “I’ll be there.”
The murder case absolved, but only through Merlin’s clever interfering and overdramatic “psychic visions”. Lance was entirely frustrated, and yet completely enamored with the idea by the time Merlin rented the property on the beachfront for the business. Le Fay couldn’t stand him and thought he was a crook. And Pendragon…
Merlin really couldn’t tell when it came to Pendragon.
Which was irritating. Merlin could read anyone.
“Good morning, Detective Pendragon,” Merlin sidled up along Pendragon’s desk two weeks after he was hired on his first official case. He had worked three so far, and each one with Le Fay’s anger and derision toward him, and Pendragon playing both sides of the field. Sometimes he would reject Merlin immediately alongside his partner, and other times he would check into Merlin’s leads and follow up on his ideas. Merlin really hadn’t had the chance to talk to him at all yet, at least not alone, and he figured that doughnuts were the perfect way to break the ice.
“What is that?” Pendragon looked up from his paperwork to look at the paper bag in Merlin’s hand that he was holding up tantalizingly.
“I brought you doughnuts,” Merlin said. “Cops like doughnuts, don’t they?”
Pendragon glared at him for a moment. “That’s a stereotype. A true stereotype, but a stereotype nonetheless.” He grabbed the bag from Merlin’s outstretched hand, and Merlin grinned. “What are you doing here? I wasn’t aware that you had been hired on another case.”
“I haven’t,” Merlin said. “I came to see you.”
“Me?” Pendragon said around a mouthful of chocolate. “Why?”
“Because I was getting very strong psychic vibes,” Merlin made up on the spot, “that we needed to talk. I get the feeling that we’re going to be spending a lot of time together in the future. We’re going to be very important to one another. Instrumental, even. We have a bond, Arthur Pendragon, and the thread the holds the universe together knows it. So I just thought we should get to know each other better.”
Pendragon stared up at him for a moment with incredulity before starting to laugh, throwing his head back, and the sun from the window streaming in to hit his hair at just the right angle to make him look like a work of art.
Pendragon shook his head in wonderment. “I can’t puzzle you out, Merlin. Are you being genuine? Are you just making this shit up as you go along? Or is this just how you flirt?”
Merlin hesitated for a moment. “Can it be all three at once?”
“You are a wonder, Merlin,” Pendragon stood up, leaving the rest of his doughnuts on his desk. “Though I’m not sure what the wonder is quite yet. It’s probably that you’re an idiot.”
“And why is that?” Merlin pushed on unashamedly.
“Because I have yet to decide whether or not you’re insane, a liar, or both. And,” Pendragon leaned over to look right into Merlin’s eyes, his own blue ones glinting with mirth and something else. “It’s very clear that I’m out of your league.”
Pendragon headed down the hallway and toward the chief’s office, and Merlin tried very hard not to watch him walk away. He failed, of course.
“Goddamn,” he whispered to himself, and wondered just how difficult it would be to crack Arthur Pendragon’s hard exterior.
As it turned out, it was Arthur who ended up being the first to make a significant crack in Merlin’s ten or fifteen layers of sarcasm, discomfort, and general issues with commitment, trust, and anything vaguely resembling emotion.
Merlin had stayed in town for Lance. He hadn’t dared touch Gaius with a ten foot pole. And working for the police gave him something exciting to live for. But on a chilly November night, for the first time since he was eighteen, his motorcycle wasn’t the most important thing in his life.
The case had been serious from the start; a man who had been in prison for creating bombs in the seventies had skipped his parole, and the materials found in his apartment indicated that he was up to his old MO.
“I want all units on alert,” Morgana said as she stalked through the apartment, shaking with barely contained rage. Merlin had grown comfortable enough with her in the past few months that he could now use her first name with only a few death threats.
Arthur, on the other hand, Merlin had taken to calling a plethora of names, not just his given one. Some of them were insulting, which Arthur gladly volleyed back to him, and some of them were sugary sweet pet names that made him hit Merlin over the head and threaten to shoot him. Merlin took a lot of pleasure in both. He was actually growing quite fond of Arthur, and was much more likely to confide in him than Morgana when it came to police work.
“Don’t you think it’s odd that he left these materials behind?” Merlin muttered to Arthur, stepping forward so that they were a shoulder’s length apart. “I think he’s trying to set us up.”
“Likely,” Arthur nodded. “But why? What would be the purpose in it, unless he’s trying to distract us while he pulls something bigger off? What could be bigger than a bomb?”
“Maybe…maybe…” An idea struck Merlin. “I don’t know. Could be a lot of things. Call me if there are any updates, I’m gonna find Lance. I’m sure he’s bored as hell at the fucking pharmacy. Nothing makes your life more interesting than a bomb maker – though in Lance’s case, I think a candle maker would be more interesting that the latest butt cream.”
Arthur chuckled slightly, just enough for Merlin to be gratified. “No offense to Lance, but I agree. I’ll call you when something happens – other than near-constant process of Morgana shrieking at the peasants.”
“You need to find a way to stand up to her,” Merlin said with a shake of his head. “You’re just as good of a detective, she’s just more experienced, and…uh…inspires more fear in the hearts of strangers.”
Arthur gave him a reserved, almost regretful smile. “Sure, I’ll do that. The day Lance stands up to you and tells you to shove off when you pull him out of work again.”
Merlin laughed, knowing that Arthur was mostly joking. “I’ll be sure to tell him that.”
“Or maybe the day you sell your motorcycle!” Arthur called after Merlin’s retreating figure, and Merlin flipped him off as he headed out of the apartment, already dialing Lance’s number.
“Merlin, I already spend more time working for you than I do working at my own company, so this better be good,” Lance huffed through the phone.
Merlin summarized the case quickly before adding “I’m almost positive that the guy’s doing this to cover up a murder. His file says he had a partner back in the seventies who turned state’s witness against him. If he’s still alive, I’d be willing to bet my bike that that’s the place where he’s head.”
Lance was silent, considering, before sighing deeply. Merlin pumped his fist in victory. “I’m going to the police station to copy the file; meet you at the office.”
The developments that followed were very logical; Merlin found the partner’s address and place of employment, and neither his boss nor his landlord had seen him in days. Luckily, his neighbor said that the man had mentioned something about going to see his sister – who, as it turned out, had been dead for fifteen years. So they knew the man was in hiding, and when Merlin had an overwhelming dramatic psychic vision about it for the police, Arthur had jumped on the tail end of Merlin’s knowledge with a theory about a connection through family. So Merlin and Lance paved through records, and they found that the man still owned his childhood home in the countryside. So Merlin had another “vision”, and off they went.
It was when they arrived at the house that all of hell broke loose.
Their theory was right, of course, because Merlin was always right. However, after both men’s presence was confirmed and the house surrounded, nothing went according to plan. Merlin and Lance were allowed to go inside, despite not being allowed guns (which Merlin really didn’t understand, but rolled with anyway while Lance grabbed the back of Merlin’s jacket and tried not to panic). With Arthur, Morgana, and four other officers in front of them, it was supposed to be a guarantee of safety.
Which, Merlin supposed, it was. For the two of them.
“Freeze!” Arthur shouted as the uniformed officers entered the room where the heat signatures had registered. Officers piled in from the opposite door as well until the two men in the center of the room were entirely surrounded; the suspect was standing above the bloodied, yet still breathing body of his former partner, holding what appeared to be a meat cleaver, which was just. Revolting.
“Interesting proposition,” the nasally voice of the bomb maker permeated through the room as every officer pointed their gun at him, on the highest of alerts.
Merlin could see the slight angle of his arm, how it was headed upward just slightly in a swinging motion, and immediately calculated the time and the force it would take to reach Arthur –
And he sprang away from Lance just in time to tackle Arthur to the ground as the cleaver went soaring over their heads.
He could hear a series of shots above them, but Merlin wouldn’t let himself think of that, just pressed down against Arthur’s body, shielding him from the fire. He could feel Arthur breathing heavily underneath him, his heartbeat terrified against Merlin’s own and Merlin’s hand, almost unwittingly, went from Arthur’s chest up to his hair, pressing his cheek against Arthur’s as his forehead hit the ground.
The shots stopped moments later, but it felt like several centuries, and someone was pulling Merlin up. It was Lance, and he immediately pulled Merlin into a tight hug, but Merlin could barely feel it, he was so – so –
He looked over at Arthur, who was being thoroughly expected for damage by Morgana. The body of the suspect was on the ground, three bullet holes in his chest. Other officers were calling for backup, picking up the alive but bloodied man on the ground and rushing him out for medical attention.
Merlin’s eyes flickered to the cleaver stuck against the wall, at a similar height to Arthur’s neck.
He shuddered and had to glance at Arthur again, just to make sure. He was fine; shaken up, terrified, but fine. He’d probably never had a near-death experience before. Merlin sure as hell hadn’t.
It was only when Arthur mouthed ‘thank you’ to him that Merlin realized what he needed to do.
“Well,” Gaius said as he surveyed Merlin critically. Merlin sighed and automatically shrunk inward as he stood, full of humility, on Gaius’s doorstep. God, he hated that eyebrow. That judgmental, condescending eyebrow. “Look what the cat dragged in.”
“Look, I know I’m the last person you want to see right now, or ever –” Merlin began, but Gaius cut him off.
“So you’ve been in town for four months now, and you haven’t even bothered to call?”
“Sorry,” Merlin muttered.
“What was that? I didn’t hear you?”
“I’m sorry,” Merlin said, louder and more emphatically. He hoped Gaius would concede and let him inside, but he wasn’t off the hook yet.
“And to top it all off, you’re working for the police. As a psychic. Don’t think I haven’t read the papers. You’ve created quite a stir. You know, I don’t remember you having any magical abilities when you were growing up. Just something that developed naturally, or has your continued appetite for bullshit reached too far this time?”
“I’m not psychic, Gaius, you know that,” Merlin sighed, knowing better than to lie. Gaius always knew when Merlin was lying, and had since the first time Merlin had ever told a lie, at age five, about where the cookies had gone.
“So you are purposefully breaking the law! Splendid. I raised you rather excellently, didn’t I? Your mother would be so proud.”
“Don’t drag my mother into this,” Merlin snapped, already on edge and spiraling out of control. “I’d like to talk to you without all of this pent-up animosity, if that’s alright. Can I come in?”
Gaius regarded him for a moment, eyebrow still raised critically at him. “If you insist.”
Merlin’s shoulders slumped as he entered the house he swore he would never step foot in again. It looked exactly the same; Gaius was never one for change. Merlin could almost see the scuff marks from when he skateboarded indoors at age eleven and effectively destroyed the varnish on every wooden surface in the house.
“So, I’m guessing you need something from me,” Gaius said as he closed the door behind Merlin. “Help on a case? Forensic expertise? A connection on the force?”
“No!” Merlin shot at him, rubbing his head in exasperation. His entire body hurt. “I – I watched someone almost die today. He would have died, if not for me.”
Gaius’s eyebrow became less critical and more curious. “I see.”
“I just – I realized today that I’m terrified of losing him,” Merlin said slowly. “And it’s not like its Lance – I know I’m scared of losing him. But this guy – he’s just a cop, someone I know and get along with. We’re not even friends. But I just got so – how did you do it, for all those years?”
The eyebrow finally vanished, and for the first time in what felt like his entire life, Gaius regarded Merlin with something akin to respect. “You just do. You don’t get used to it. It doesn’t get better. But it’s something you do. You live with that pain, and when someone really does die, you keep on living anyway. That’s the only thing to do.”
Merlin took this in with his eyes closed, head hitting the wall behind him as he inhaled deeply. “Thank you. I just – thank you.”
“You really care about this, don’t you,” Gaius said, and it wasn’t a question. “This business. This psychic shtick. Staying in town. Lancelot. Whoever this person is that you risked your life for. You care.”
“I know,” Merlin nodded self-deprecatingly. “Shocking.”
They were silent for a moment, but Merlin knew that he had come here for something more than just comfort. “Gaius – I just want to say – I haven’t forgiven you for everything that happened. And for making me the person that I am. And I know you haven’t forgiven me for what I’ve done either. But if it’s okay, then…then we should have dinner sometime.”
Gaius’s gaze was unchanged and unflinching. “I always wanted you to be a police officer. And I always cursed you for the choices you made; you could have been the best damn cop in the city. In the state, even. But I know that it wasn’t what you wanted for your life. But yet, here you are, working for the police and happier than you ever were gallivanting across the country on that blasted bike.”
“Don’t you dare say I told you so,” Merlin regarded him warily, but Gaius shook his head.
“Thanksgiving’s in two weeks. I’ll make dinner if you bake a pie.”
“And by ‘you bake a pie’, do you mean ‘have Lance bake a pie and then bring him along’?” Merlin couldn’t help but smile, and Gaius shook his head, but this time it was fondly instead of critically.
“Yes, that’s what I mean. Maybe you should bring this not-friend that you risked your life for, too. I’d like to meet the person that’s finally made my son care about something other than himself.”
“I care about Lance,” Merlin said quietly.
Gaius shook his head. “You’ve known Lance since you were born. That doesn’t count. This is the first person who you’ve willingly connected to in – well.”
“Yeah,” Merlin ran a hand through his hair and considered what his life had become. “I know.”
“Are you aware that this happiness you’ve found – this life you’re trying to build – is built entirely on a lie? You know that if you were exposed, you could lose all of this at any moment?”
Merlin’s heart clenched at the thought. It was one of those ideas that kept him awake at night, on a dangling precipice between sleep and hell. “I know.”
“Is it worth it?”
Merlin thought of Lance slowly learning to trust him again, of Morgana’s clacking heels and severe frown, of the feeling of Arthur’s heart beating against his own.
“Yes.”
Arthur was going home to his family for Thanksgiving, so thankfully, Merlin didn’t have to pluck up the courage to ask him. But in mid-December, when Arthur was bitching about his father’s last-minute trip to Italy with his newest wife, Merlin blurted out “Come to my place for Christmas.”
“What?” Arthur broke off mid-tirade to give Merlin a bewildered look. Merlin was sitting on Arthur’s desk, as he did at least three times a week, to bother Arthur and prevent him from getting any work done. It was a great arrangement for both of them. Occasionally Lance joined it, but he always got his own chair.
“I’m – my uncle – the one who was a cop – he’s my only family, and we’re only just starting to get along again after my disastrous teenage rebellion,” Merlin explained awkwardly. “Lance is going to France with his cousins for Christmas, so he can’t be a buffer, and somehow I don’t think Morgana would make Christmas very enjoyable. She’d probably instruct me on how to eat my turkey. So you’re really the clear choice here.”
Arthur regarded him critically, but Merlin already knew that his offer was going to be accepted. His smile had softened around the edges. “Is this your strange way of asking me on a date?”
“Arthur, every time we hang out we’re on a date, you just haven’t chosen to accept this yet,” Merlin explained as if talking to a toddler. “In fact, we’re on a date right now. Just with decidedly less making out than I would prefer.”
“You’re incorrigible,” Arthur laughed and reached up to brush Merlin’s bangs out of his eyes. Merlin tried to pretend he didn’t feel a shiver go down his spine at Arthur’s touch. “I’m not dating you.”
“I think I’m insulted,” Merlin tilted his head to the side. “What have I possibly done to you to make you so averse to the idea? You like me. I like you. Neither of us is straight.”
“You’ve never asked me that,” Arthur raised an eyebrow at him.
“I never had to,” Merlin proclaimed haughtily. “I’m psychic, remember? Besides, bisexuals can sense each other in the wild. It’s ingrained in us. We can recognize each other’s scent anywhere.”
Arthur laughed. “If that was true, I would have been on a lot more dates in college. But the point remains – if we got together, it would be a mistake.”
“Why’s that?”
“Because I don’t do casual. And I think you exclusively do casual,” Arthur’s face challenged Merlin to refute his statement, which. He really couldn’t. It was the truth. Arthur stood up with a fond shake of his head. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Merlin.”
“But baby,” Merlin lay backward and threw his head off the desk to address Arthur’s retreating form upside-down. “I can change for you!”
“People are staring,” Arthur turned around, chuckling, and lifted Merlin lightly up by the chin. “I’ll come to your house for Christmas.”
Merlin didn’t even pretend not to watch Arthur walk away this time.
And then there was a serial killer, because of course there was a serial killer. Lance was very upset. He hadn’t signed on for serial killers. He made this absolutely clear within the first five minutes of the case.
But then he learned Merlin was personally called out by the killer and he became his usual protective, loyal self.
There was also a girl, because of course there was a girl. Freya had been the closest thing Merlin had to a high school sweetheart, and they had kissed when he’d seen her at the reunion, but hadn’t called her since, because. Well. He was Merlin.
But Lance had issued a challenge about Merlin’s commitment issues, and Merlin couldn’t just let it go, so he asked her out about fifteen minutes before he learned he had been personally chosen as the rival of the infamous Yin Yang Killer.
It was an excellent day all-around.
Or at least, it was until the killer decided Merlin wasn’t taking things seriously enough –really, was that his biggest goddamn problem? Was the universe trying to tell him something? – notched up the excitement, and kidnapped Gaius.
That. That was the real kicker.
“Oh my God,” Merlin sank into the old armchair that had adorned his uncle’s living room for as long as he could remember, staring up at the message left on the mantle. “They have Gaius. Fuck. Fucking shit.”
Surprisingly, it was Morgana who reached out to put a hand on his shoulder, one of the only acts of kindness he could remember receiving from her. Lance was trying to keep himself upright against the coffee table, almost as affected by Merlin at the idea that the man who raised them both might be dead because of them. Arthur, from his position next to the killer’s red scrawled message, kept flickering concerned eyes between them.
“We’ll find him,” Morgana said, voice steely. “Now come on – the message is for you. What can you make of it?”
Merlin heard himself talking, was making the connections in his head that would lead them to the drive-in movie theatre, but he could barely register what was happening. Gaius was gone. Gaius was kidnapped. Gaius might be dead. And it was entirely his fault.
Because he couldn’t take anything seriously enough.
“The drive-in on Ninth,” Arthur followed up whatever Merlin had said. He honestly didn’t remember. Maybe his body is going into shock. “They have the lights burned out on their sign – I think the letters are the same as the ones at the end of the message.”
“Yeah,” Merlin said hollowly, standing up and stalking away from his friends and out of his childhood home, not bothering to see if they were following him. “Let’s go.”
The drive-in was packed but Merlin saw Gaius’s pickup from sometime in the 1950s the second he arrived. Yet again, he didn’t wait for anyone’s permission or any kind of plan, but hurried at top speed to the car, heart pounding inside his chest. If Gaius died because of him…
“Gaius,” Merlin whispered, thankful, as he saw his uncle’s shock of wild white hair in the driver’s seat. He tiptoed closer, and as he chanced a glance backward, saw Arthur and what looked like a battalion of officers surrounding him, surrounding the car – they were waiting for Merlin to give them the all-clear. But Merlin didn’t even know where the killer was yet.
“Merlin – is that you?” Gaius’s voice, strained, whispered just loud enough for Merlin to hear.
“Yes, it’s me,” Merlin knelt next to the car to get a good look at his uncle. Gaius was sitting completely still in his seat, staring straight ahead. “Are you…”
Gaius’s eyes flickered backward toward the projector box, and Merlin followed his line of sight. There was a tiny beam of red light coming through to land on the back of Gaius’s head.
“Fuck,” Merlin cursed as he dug his phone out of his pocket to dial Lance’s number. His best friend picked up on the first ring.
“Merlin, you should’ve waited,” Lance said immediately, but Merlin brushed him off.
“Lance, he’s strapped.”
“Fuck,” Lance said in a quick breath; Lance, who never cursed. “I’ll let Arthur and Morgana know. Do you know where the killer is?”
“Gaius…where is he?” Merlin lowered his phone to ask.
“She,” was Gaius’s response as he jerked his head just slightly to the right. Merlin stood to look at the closest car –
And found a middle-aged, dark-haired woman staring a hole in his head as she held up a tiny box with a taunting smile.
“I see her,” Merlin said, both to Lance and Gaius. “I’m going over.”
“Wait –” Lance’s voice was cut off by Gaius.
“Merlin…If we don’t make it out of this…”
Merlin ducked back down to look Gaius in the eye, hard and angry. “We will.”
“But if we don’t,” Gaius hesitated a moment before sighing, closing his eyes. “I’m proud of you. You’ve made a lot of mistakes, but I’m proud to be the one who raised you. I’m proud to be your uncle.”
If this really was the last time…Merlin couldn’t just not take it seriously. He had to find some way to fix this fatal flaw.
“My father,” he replied quietly, and Gaius nodded, understanding. Merlin took that as a cue to stand and walk toward the still-smiling woman, tilting her little box back and forth as if to tell him that she could kill Gaius at any time.
“Merlin,” she said as he opened the passenger side door to her car. “How nice to finally meet you.”
“I wish I could say the same,” Merlin fought to keep his voice level and emotions in check. “Should I be calling you Yin or Yang?”
“How about you call me Nimueh?” She said, voice airy and light in contrast to their current predicament.
Merlin smiled, tight-lipped. “I’d prefer to call you Yang.”
“You’re just no fun, are you, Merlin?” She shook her head with a full-throated chortle. “You must be having a rough day.”
“You could say that.”
“It might get worse,” Yang said, showing him the box but not letting it within his reach. “Depending on what happens next.”
“What do you want?” Merlin said, low and urgent. “I’ll do anything.”
“Will you now? And isn’t that special, that you care about your uncle so? That’s why I chose him, you know,” she said, playing with the box, fingers lightly brushing over the button that would end his Gaius’s life. “When you started mocking our little game, I knew I needed to take something close to the heart. And you care about exactly three people, Merlin, so it wasn’t hard to find one. Can you guess who the other two are?”
“Lance and Arthur,” Merlin said automatically, because she clearly knew the answer already.
“Good,” she purred. “It’s nice you can admit it. You wouldn’t have been able to do that – what? A whole year ago, is that when you started to care again?”
“Something like that,” Merlin said, uncomfortable with not only the fact that she knew when he had gotten to town, but also that she knew that it wasn’t a turning point in his career, it was the emotional turning point of his life.
“Now, I don’t want you to hate me, Merlin – and I know that if I kill your uncle, you will,” she clicked her tongue as she shook the box back and forth. “You and I still have a part to play together. So this time…I’m going to let you off the hook. Next time, we’ll have a bigger game, with more players. You’d like that, wouldn’t you? Games aren’t anything you need to take seriously.”
She handed him the box and Merlin didn’t even have time to process what she said before he leaped out the car and yelled “Clear!” with adrenaline pumping through his veins.
The police swarmed around the car, and Merlin found himself stumbling away and toward Lance, who wrapped him in a tight hug. “You did it,” he whispered in Merlin’s ear. “You’re alright.”
“Yeah,” Merlin said, reaching around for his phone and dialing a number. He pressed it to his ear and waited for it to pick up.
“Who are you calling?” Lance asked.
“Freya,” Merlin replied, which was greeted with a gape.
“Merlin, you’ve just faced as serial killer and now you’re going on a date?”
“I told her I would. And I need to start taking the things I do more seriously,” Merlin explained as the phone finally picked up. “Hey, Freya, I was wondering…?”
“If you could call and cancel?” Freya said with a light, laughter-filled voice. “I was kind of expecting this, honestly. I was hoping you might pull through this time, Merlin. But don’t worry about it; it’s fine.”
“Actually,” Merlin said, and he could have been insulted, but he had a healthy dose of self-awareness. He knew the image he portrayed to people, the kind of person he was. And he was the kind of person who would call and cancel a date last minute. “I was wondering if you could meet me at the drive-in on Ninth. I had what you could call an interesting day, and I’m already here.”
“Oh!” She said, surprised, and clearly a little embarrassed. Merlin had already forgiven her, though. “Sure. I’ll be there in fifteen minutes.”
“Are you sure about this, Merlin?” Lance said as Merlin hung up with a satisfied smile. “I mean…”
“Yeah,” Merlin said, and it was the truth.
After checking on Gaius to make sure he was alright, and watching the police take Yang into custody, Merlin headed into the building to grab some food for when Freya arrived. Lance had already promised that he’d catch a ride with the officers so Merlin could use his car for the night. Freya would probably be here in five minutes, and Merlin was hoping she wouldn’t ask too many questions about the swarm of cops still in the vicinity.
Merlin was paying for his Milk Duds when he heard someone clear their throat behind him. He turned to see Arthur, his suit jacket gone and hair askew, looking at Merlin with something unnamable in his eyes. Merlin hadn’t talked to him since – well.
“Hey,” Merlin turned to face him, trying to smile. “Worry not, I’m alright. Everyone’s alive, no one got their head chopped off – just another day at the office, eh?”
Arthur laughed a little breathlessly as he shook his head. “Back to brushing everything off, are we?”
“Not everything,” Merlin allowed him as he exhaled deeply. “It’s been a hell of a day. But I’m nothing if not resilient.”
“I know,” Arthur said, and then broke off, wincing. “Look, Merlin – I just wanted to say that you were great today. I’ve never seen you so…”
“Not like me?” Merlin asked, a bit self-deprecatingly.
“No,” Arthur shook his head. “Not that. It was…it was still you. Which is why I’m here right now. I think you deserve more than that rather impressive array of movie theatre snacks tonight. I want to take you to dinner.”
Merlin stared at him for a moment, not comprehending. He – he didn’t even know how he felt about it, Arthur’s hopeful expression, his half-smile as he waited for Merlin’s reaction.
But Freya was waiting.
And Merlin was taking things seriously.
“Detective Pendragon…” he started, and shook his head. “You have the worst timing of anyone I know.”
“What?” Arthur’s smile froze.
“I’m on a date...right now,” Merlin couldn’t look Arthur in the eye. “I’m trying this new thing called taking what I say and do seriously. Someone I know was pretty adamant about me doing that.”
“I…I did think you were taking things seriously,” Arthur started to explain, and the vulnerability that Merlin had seen in his eyes before was gone. He was trying to backpedal his way out of this. “That’s kind of why I was asking you out.”
“I – I’m only just starting, Arthur,” Merlin stated awkwardly. “This is attempt number one. And even if I wasn’t on a date tonight…I would have to say no. You were right before. I can’t be with you, at least not right now. I’m still not a good enough person yet.”
“Merlin, you’re a lot of things, but a bad person isn’t one of them,” Arthur said, half exasperated but half affection and Merlin just couldn’t handle doing this. He’d never had a conversation like this before, turned down what every one of his instincts screamed for him to do.
“But I wouldn’t treat you right,” Merlin pointed out, and he knew this was true. “You’re not the kind of guy you mess with; you’re the real deal. And I only want to be with you if I can give you what you deserve. And I can’t do that yet. You’re way too good for me. I haven’t seen Freya much at all since high school. Maybe she and I are on the same level. But – and I’m loathe to admit it – you are way too out of my league.”
Arthur laughed bitterly, his eyes wide and almost sad. Merlin hated himself. He really, truly hated himself.
“Well, I suppose I could say good luck on your date, but we both know I don’t mean it,” Arthur took a few steps forward, toward Merlin, and leaned up to kiss his forehead. Merlin leaned into the touch, his whole body shaking with something that he couldn’t name. “Have a good night, Merlin.”
“You too,” Merlin croaked after his retreating form, lifting a hand up to his face to brush his hair away from his eyes, his entire world making even less sense than before.
“Hey,” a tiny dark-haired girl with wide brown eyes and a slight figure chose that moment to walk through the double doors. “Why are the police here?”
“That,” Merlin walked toward Freya to greet her with a kiss on the cheek, and thanked God that she wasn’t blonde, or else he’d never be able to get Arthur out of his head, “is an excellent question that I will answer at another time. Don’t want to spoil what is sure to be the best date both of us have ever been on. In our lives.”
“High expectations,” she raised her eyebrow with a laugh. “Are you alright? You look a little shaken up.”
Merlin wondered if it was because of the serial killer or Arthur.
Whatever. They were basically the same thing.
Things were only awkward for two weeks, after which Merlin and Arthur went back to their ordinarily scheduled witty banter, snide remarks, and underlying romantic tension that they both tried valiantly to ignore.
Merlin had broken up with Freya six months later, due to the overwhelming feeling of guilt that he was leading her on. And he was, in a way. He genuinely cared for Freya and enjoyed spending time with her, but Arthur wouldn’t leave the back of his mind.
Lance, of course, thought that the day immediately following the breakup would be the perfect time to let Arthur know that he was single, available, and still interested.
“There’s plenty of time for me and Arthur,” Merlin told Lance as they sat in their office throwing a tiny basketball between them and counting how long it could go without hitting the floor, like real professionals do.
“What if there’s not?” Lance raised an eyebrow as he threw the ball back to Merlin. “You both risk your lives every day. There’s no guarantee. So tell him how you feel. Now.”
“Who’s that secretary that you like?” Merlin pretended to ponder for a moment. “Morgana’s ex? The one you’ve been pining over? What’s her name…Gwen? I don’t see you rushing over to ask her out.”
“That’s different and you know it,” Lance said, but there was a new gravity to his face as he scowled at Merlin. “You and Arthur have been dancing around each other for two years. We’re not at your level. No one is at your level.”
“I’ll tell him,” Merlin said defensively. “But he has a girlfriend right now, and that guy from the bar last night gave me his number. It’s not the right time, Lance.”
Lance just sighed, shaking his head in pity. “If you keep waiting for the right time, you’ll never find it. You’re in love with him, Merlin.”
“I am not!” Merlin snorted derisively in Lance’s general direction. “I’ve never been in love.”
“Which is why you have no idea that this is what love is,” Lance rolled his eyes and caught the ball that Merlin had thrown with more force than entirely necessary.
“Well, I wouldn’t have dated Freya for so long if I was in love with him,” Merlin tried to point out, but was immediately shushed.
“Merlin – I’m not accusing you, because I know you didn’t do it on purpose – but you dated Freya for the experience of dating another human being with the intent of a serious relationship, that way you’d know how to treat someone, AKA Arthur, in a similar relationship.”
Merlin slumped in his seat slightly, knowing that there was some truth in what Lance had said. It was why he had broken up with her, after all. She, like Arthur, was too good for him.
“I don’t know, Lance,” Merlin sighed, squeezing his eyes shut and trying to articulate what was inside his mind. He clearly needed help with this – and Lance was generally very good with emotions, and how to handle them. And he was Merlin’s best friend, who understood him better than anyone else. “It just feels like I’m biding my time. That we’ll end up together no matter what. And I’m just waiting it out.”
“Until you feel like you deserve it,” Lance finished for him, and Merlin nodded. Merlin could read anyone, but Lance was the only one who could read him. “Merlin, I’m not sure if this is your self-loathing streak or something else, but you deserve to be happy.”
“And so does Arthur,” Merlin pointed out.
“He’d be happy with you.”
“No, he wouldn’t,” Merlin laughed humorlessly. “Maybe at first he’d be, but I’m still not good enough yet. I need to….I don’t know what I need to do. I don’t want to date anyone else, because that’s not fair. But I can’t be the person that I am and date him. He doesn’t…what would he say if he knew I wasn’t psychic?”
“Is that what this is about?”
“Part of it, I guess,” Merlin sighed. “My life is a lie, Lance. I could lose all of this at any moment. I’m just so desperate to hold on to it. And I know that if I was with him, I’d have to tell him. And then I would lose this business – I would lose my uncle’s respect again – and I’d. I would lose you, too.”
Lance’s eyes went soft and he shook his head as if Merlin was the stupidest person on the planet, which he probably was. “I don’t know about the rest of that, but you can’t lose me. Not again. You’re my best friend, Merlin, and I’m always on your side. No matter what you do and how bad it is, I’m always going to be there. And if you gave him the chance, Arthur would tell you the same thing.”
Merlin just laughed. “I highly doubt that.”
He didn’t get the opportunity to find out if Arthur saw him like Lance did, but he was hit with the startling clarity that it was exactly how he himself felt about Arthur.
Unfortunately, it took another near-death experience to get him to realize it.
There was a suitcase that contained a deadly pathogen loose in the city, and in the wrong hands, could start biological warfare. They had been chasing the suitcase through the train station until they found the man who had spread it in the first place, and in the confrontation, part of the virus had leaked out.
The only one who had been close enough to be exposed was Arthur.
“He could die today,” Merlin stared through the hospital window to Arthur, lying in the bed. Arthur, who was deadly pale with red-rimmed eyes. Arthur, who Merlin had never seen looking anything but collected and confident. “And he’d never know how I feel.”
“I’d say I told you so,” Lance said quietly from next to him, eyes also fixed on Arthur. “But I know it’s not the time.”
“It might be the time for something else, though,” Merlin’s eyes flickered between Arthur and Lance, and his friend turned to look at him with shocked eyes.
“Are you really…?”
“I think so,” Merlin rocked backward on the balls of his feet, heart in his throat. “Jesus Christ, I’m scared.”
“You’re in love,” Lance said, clapping him on the shoulder. “It’s scary.”
Merlin spent a second longer in his reverie before grabbing a surgical mask and opening the door. Arthur glanced up from the bed, and gave him a tired smile.
“Hey? What’s up? Has Morgana found the box that has the cure yet?”
“I don’t think so,” Merlin answered, entire body thrumming with unbridled energy. Morgana, furious and enraged with this case for debilitating her partner, had followed a lead on the cure nearly two hours ago, and no one had heard from her since. “But I have something that I need to tell you.”
Arthur sat up straighter, narrowing his eyes. “What is it? Is she okay?”
“She’s fine, she’s fine,” Merlin reassured him, walking the rest of the way over to his bedside. “This is about me, actually. And you. I –”
“Arthur!” The door suddenly burst open, Lance heading into the room with a wild look in his eye. Merlin felt the energy rush out of him at the interruption, nerves spiking up at what Lance could possibly be doing. “You – There’s something you should know.”
“Can it wait until I’m done telling him something he should know?” Merlin hissed, glaring at Lance with a touch more desperation than he wanted to.
“The doctor just stopped by and you don’t have the virus, you’re going to be fine,” Lance explained, even though Merlin felt a huge rush of relief, it couldn’t be appreciated. His nervous system was too wired.
Arthur, on the other hand, immediately sprang up out of the bed, light in his eyes. “Really? Oh, thank God. Thank God!” He ripped the medical tape off of his chest without a second thought as he stood, laughing and beaming, pulling Merlin into a brief hug that made it feel like the world was caving in. “I’m not going to die in this disgusting hospital bed!”
“Looks like you have more time than you thought,” Lance shot a nervous look toward Merlin, and that was when he made a decision he never thought himself capable of.
“I – I still want to tell you what I was going to say before,” Merlin turned to Arthur, fumbling through his words. “If that’s okay.”
Arthur, eyes concerned, nodded at him, and Merlin heard Lance shut the door on his way out.
“Look,” Merlin said, pulling the surgical mask away from his face to look Arthur in the eye. “You – you know how when you’re a kid, and you get a cereal box, and there’s the cool prizes at the bottom?”
“Yeah?” Arthur shook his head in wonderment as Merlin stumbled through his entirely unplanned metaphor for something he didn’t quite know yet.
“Well…there are two kinds of kids. There’s the kid that flips the cereal box over right away in order to get the prize as soon as possible. And then there’s the kid who waits patiently, eats all of his bowls of cereal, and the prize just…falls out.”
“And why are we talking about these two kids?” Arthur smiled up at Merlin, confused but still overwhelmingly genuine, and Merlin was going to have a panic attack.
“Because I was the kid that didn’t wait,” Merlin explained, and resisted the urge to reach for Arthur’s hand. “Not just when it came to cereal, but for anything. I couldn’t wait to get out of my house, to get my driver’s license, to get a motorbike, to travel across the country. And I know that I’m trying to be…to be different than that kid, but at my core, that’s still who I am. And I just keep asking myself – what am I waiting for now? I just – I don’t want to miss out on the prize.”
“What are you trying to say?” Arthur said, quietly, and Merlin knew what they were both thinking.
But when he opened his mouth, the words wouldn’t come out.
He had said them once, when he had been shot and was lying, nearly dead, on the floor of a gas station while the man who had him prisoner allowed him one phone call to say goodbye to his girlfriend. To Freya. But Merlin had called Arthur instead in order to give the police some kind of clue as to where he was. And the man wouldn’t let Merlin hang up without saying ‘I love you’, and so Merlin did. And he had heard Arthur’s sharp intake of breath over the line, could feel the electricity between them even through the phone, and when Merlin had said ‘Goodbye, Freya’, it hurt worse than the gunshot wound.
He had broken up with Freya three days later.
“I – I don’t – I don’t know,” he whispered to Arthur’s wide blue eyes that were always genuine, even when Arthur was frustrated or annoyed or angry.
They only stared at each other for a moment before the door burst open again, this time with Morgana, who strode straight past Merlin to embrace her partner, and Merlin ducked out of the room to face Lance’s questioning face, and he knew his friend was dreading the response.
“I didn’t say it,” Merlin told him, and after one last look through the window to Arthur, he left the hospital, hoping to never return.
Merlin hated Arthur’s boyfriend Mordred more than he had ever hated anyone in his entire life. And that included how much he hated Gaius when he was seventeen.
For one thing, he was kind of exactly like Merlin. Except smaller and more irritating. He read guilt, too, but the thing was he had a degree from an accredited university, so the police took him seriously. Of course. And Merlin knew that he threw a fit whenever Mordred was around, but he really couldn’t bring himself to care.
The worst of it was that Mordred had lied to the police about his credentials, but came clean before he asked Arthur out. And though Arthur had initially been angry and said no, he had come back only moments later to say things like ‘I appreciate your honesty’ and ‘let’s get a coffee’, and Merlin. Just. Hated Mordred a lot.
But Arthur liked him. He liked him so much he was going to Italy with him. And Merlin was unspeakably jealous.
Nothing would have come of his unspeakable jealousy if not for the fact that he had left his jacket in one of the interrogation rooms during the day and had to come back later that night to retrieve it, because on the staircase heading down to the cell block was Arthur, sitting and speaking unintelligibly on his phone.
Because he couldn’t help himself, Merlin swung down the stairs and fell into a heap next to where Arthur sat. “Everything alright?”
“Yeah,” Arthur said, hanging up the phone and shoving it in his suit pocket with more force than necessary. “I was just trying to make long distance dinner reservations – not working out too well for me.”
“Why long distance?”
“I’m…leaving for Rome in three days?” Arthur shot Merlin a questioning look, like Merlin had momentarily suffered brain damage.
“Right, right,” Merlin shook his head, pretending he had forgotten. He had not. “Well, have a great four days off.”
“Merlin, I’m gone for two weeks,” Arthur gave him a long-suffering look, and Merlin tried not to wince.
“That is…a considerable amount of vacation time,” Merlin allowed himself to say, trying as hard as he could to distance himself from this situation. That, of course, couldn’t work out in his favor, so he slowly gave in and let the subject become more emotional in manner. “Have… a fantastic time, Arthur. Take lots of pictures. You can take some snapshots of the cool motorbikes in Rome for me, if you want. Just a suggestion.”
Arthur laughed, but Merlin wasn’t finished. He had started, and now he couldn’t’ stop. “Trips like this are supposed to be once in a lifetime, and they say they’re even better when you’re with someone you care about. I’m…I’m glad you have someone you care about.”
Merlin couldn’t meet Arthur’s eyes, because he knew what he would see and couldn’t bear it. Arthur seemed to realize this, and instead of speaking, he leaned over and rested his head on Merlin’s shoulder. It was a far more intimate act than Merlin could bear, and his skin crawled with heat.
“Sometimes I think it’s you,” Arthur said quietly after a moment of silence, “who’s making me a better person. Not the other way around.”
Merlin chuckled, but his proximity to Arthur made it hard to even think. “I’ve still got quite a ways to go before I’m good enough for you.”
Arthur lifted his head up to meet Merlin’s eyes, and there was almost a kind of dread in them. “Do you really believe that? Or do you think that I do?"
“I don’t believe it, it’s true,” Merlin told him with a sad smile. “I’m still the eighteen year old kid who ran away.”
“No,” Arthur said, his voice firm and eyes harder than before, though still gentle. “You’re the twenty-eight year old who came back and the thirty-three year old who…who is good enough. Who takes things seriously; at least when they matter. Who…who would make a great boyfriend. For anyone lucky enough to…”
Arthur trailed off, eyes searching Merlin’s face, looking for something, and whatever it was, he found it, because the next thing Merlin knew, Arthur was kissing him. It was sloppy and desperate and everything Merlin could have ever dreamed. For a moment, all he could do was sit there and let it happen, let Arthur bring his hands up to Merlin’s face and cup the back of his neck, let his tongue slide into his mouth.
And then Merlin, buoyed with sudden energy, kissed back, one shaking hand on Arthur’s chest, the other on his side, and gave as good as he got.
Merlin wasn’t sure how long they kissed before they finally broke apart for air, and with one look at Arthur’s glazed look, his lips red and bruised, Merlin could feel his heart breaking.
“Pendragon!” A voice above them yelled, and the pair broke apart to opposite ends of the stairs, startled. It was Morgana, who gave them a disdainful glance, not even taking notice of their messy appearances. “Your vacation hasn’t started yet. Get up here and finish your paperwork on the Yates case of the chief will have your head.”
“Right,” Arthur said, giving Merlin one last terrified glance as he stood up. “Coming.”
Merlin sat in silence for a moment before leaning backward against the stone wall, running his hand through his hair and wondering what the hell he was supposed to do now.
“So. Are you going to tell him?”
“Tell who what?” Merlin said through a mouthful of casserole. He was at Gaius’s for dinner, an occurrence which had been happening more and more throughout the past few years. He’d been back in town for nearly five years now, and even though his relationship with his uncle was rocky, it was constant.
“Are you going to tell Arthur that you’re in love with him?” Gaius rolled his eyes, reaching over to smack Merlin on the back of his head like a misbehaving preschooler.
“Ow!” Merlin rubbed the spot where impact was made and glared at Gaius. “What was that for?”
“Because if you don’t tell him, you’re an idiot,” Gaius said, not mincing words. “When does he leave for Italy?”
Merlin regarded his uncle suspiciously. “I don’t remember telling you that he was going.”
“Believe it or not, I occasionally talk to your friends when you’re not around,” Gaius explained tetchily. “But it so happens that I heard you telling Lance that you wanted to tell him before he left and got serious about this….other boy.”
“I shared that with Lance in the men’s room at the Red Robin; where the hell were you hiding?”
“You’re not the only one who has ‘investigative skills’,” Gaius put his pointer finger to his head in a mockery of Merlin’s signature move, which was really just one insult too far.
“Don’t try to out-fake psychic a fake psychic!” Merlin reached across the table to snatch Gaius’s hand down. The old man just chortled, clearly amused. “How’d you know?”
“Are you going to tell him?” Gaius raised his eyebrow. His knowing, condescending eyebrow.
Merlin groaned. “I don’t know, alright? He leaves on Friday. I want to tell him, but I’m not sure how. It’s never worked out very well in the past.”
Gaius nodded thoughtfully. “Just tell him. Tell him now. Tell him five minutes from now. I don’t care. But don’t doubt for one second that you would still be the person you are today without Arthur Pendragon. And you owe it to him to tell him. Of all the relationships you’ve had, with anyone, this is the only one you’ve never ruined. So don’t fuck it up now.”
“That’s surprisingly good advice,” Merlin allowed, but had to stop himself after that. He couldn’t let Gaius’s ego get any bigger. “Can we never have this conversation again?”
“Hey, Morgana, have you seen Arthur?” Merlin rushed past the flurry of the police headquarters to stop short at Morgana’s desk. The woman in question looked up at him with narrowed, unamused eyes.
“He left for Italy, in case you’ve forgotten.”
“No, no, his flight is tomorrow, I’m sure of it,” Merlin said, adrenaline coursing as panic began to set in.
“Maybe Mordred managed to get them an earlier one; I can’t be sure because I don’t care,” Morgana informed him tetchily as Merlin sank down into the chair opposite her desk, heart thumping uncomfortably in his chest. “Was that an invitation to sit down? What are you still doing here?”
“I think I need to get a ticket to Rome,” Merlin groaned, head in his hands.
“What, to confess your undying love for him?” Morgana said with a sarcastic quirk of her eyebrow. Merlin tried to stare her down, but he knew he came off more desperate than anything.
“Exactly.”
Morgana frowned, though not unkindly, as she leaned forward. “You really do care about him, don’t you?”
Merlin resisted the urge to roll his eyes. “Obviously.”
Morgana clicked her tongue, thinking for a moment before speaking again. “You know I’ve never liked you, right?”
“Oh, yeah,” Merlin muttered, wondering where this conversation is going.
“My partner,” she said, lacing her fingers together in a rather threatening manner, “on the other hand, likes you quite a bit. And whenever the two of you have a tiff, I’m the one who has to put up with it. And therefore, I know that he likes to go to the pier when he’s upset. If he’s in town, that’s where he’ll be. Of course, he might be in Rome falling madly in love, the two of them will run away together, and you’ll never see him again.”
“Thanks, Morgana,” Merlin said genuinely, though a bit tentatively. “I owe you one.”
“You owe me many,” she said with a brush of her hand. “Now get out of my sight.”
On the way to the pier, Merlin may or may not have booked a ticket to Rome. Just as a safety precaution. He had to be sure.
However, it turned out he didn’t need it, for after pulling his bike onto the curb across the street, he could already see Arthur’s glinting blond hair. It was like a homing beacon, and Merlin felt a rush of affection in his chest. Arthur hadn’t left. Arthur had stayed.
Unless that wasn’t Arthur and Merlin was delusional.
He walked at top speed down the pier.
Relief filtered through him when he saw that it was indeed Arthur, facing away from him and out toward the ocean. Merlin hesitated for a moment before realizing that this was it; this was his shot, and he couldn’t throw it away. Not for anything, and especially not for nerves.
He stepped forward to lean against the railing of the pier next to Arthur. He felt the other man look at him, and heard a noise somewhere between a gasp and a breath. He turned to Arthur. “Hi.”
“Hi,” Arthur said back, gazing at him with shock. “How did you –”
“Morgana,” Merlin answered, and Arthur nodded in understanding. “You didn’t go to Italy.”
“No. I didn’t.”
They stared at each other without speaking for a few moments before Merlin broke the silence. “It shouldn’t be this hard, should it? Is it usually this hard?”
“No,” Arthur replied with a regretful sigh. “It isn’t. And it shouldn’t be. We’ve tried so many times…”
“And failed so many times,” Merlin added bitterly, but there was enough humor in his voice for Arthur to smile.
“That, too,” he looked down at the ground. “Maybe this just isn’t meant to happen. Things are fine the way they are.”
“You’re saying we should just leave things well enough alone?” There was a sinking feeling in Merlin’s chest that multiplied when Arthur nodded sadly.
“Yeah. I think we’d both be better off.”
Merlin disagreed. There wasn’t a part of him that didn’t need Arthur like most people needed air, and food, and other less important things. But these past years, all he had done was try to be a better person, and if that meant letting Arthur go, then he would let Arthur go.
“Okay,” Merlin said, huffing out a quick breath as he turned away. “Okay.”
He only made it five feet before he turned back around.
“Can I just – can I say what I came here for first?”
Arthur, startled, probably by how desperate and needy Merlin sounded, nodded for him to go on.
“I…” Merlin tried to find the words. This had gone so badly before, and this was the one time it needed to go right. “I have a motorcycle.”
It wasn’t what he had been planning on saying. Not even slightly. And Arthur’s eyes narrowed in confusion and a little bit of judgement. “I’m aware.”
“And I…I love my motorcycle. It’s the best purchase I’ve ever made, by far. Riding down the highway at eighty miles per hour with the wind in your hair…nothing else matters. It’s the definition of freedom. And that bike was my only friend for ten years. It’s been everywhere with me. It’s the one thing that has always been a constant in my life, and I don’t know where I would be today without it. Probably stranded at a gas station somewhere in Iowa, now that I think about it.”
Arthur’s face was torn somewhere between laughter and genuine emotion. “You love your motorcycle, Merlin. Is there a point to this?”
“Yeah,” Merlin said, nodding concrete in what he was going to say. He knew it couldn’t be ‘I love you’, because he might freeze again. But he could say the same thing in different words. “The point is that….that since I met you…I’ve been thinking about getting a car.”
“That…” Arthur’s face changed to one of pure wonderment, smile lighting up the whole world. “That would be ridiculous. That is a – a responsible decision, a very adult one, that implies that you’re taking something very seriously –”
“Good point,” Merlin said, grabbing Arthur’s face in one hand and in his waist in the other, and pulled the other man toward him. This kiss was everything the other hadn’t been; it wasn’t desperate and panic-inducing, it was sweet, and genuine, and what Merlin imagined pure joy was. By the time they broke apart, they had quite an audience surrounding them, with more than one wolf-whistling teenager, and an old woman who was taking a picture.
“Uh…” Merlin said as he pulled away from Arthur’s face, hands remaining on Arthur’s hips, as Arthur kept one of his hands on the side of Merlin’s neck, buried in his hair. “This is…an escalation of many things that happened,” he tried to explain to the still gaping crowd.
“Maybe we should go,” Arthur said with just the slightest laugh to his otherwise pink, embarrassed flush.
“Good plan,” Merlin said, and then realized that there was still something he had to do before this could work out. “I need to tell you something else. Something a little less…good. Can we go back to my place?”
“Sure,” Arthur said, sending Merlin a concerned look, but reached for his hand nonetheless. Merlin squeezed it tightly as they walked down the pier, trying to revel in this moment just in case what he had to say would ruin this entire relationship before it even began.
“Merlin, you’re scaring me,” Arthur said when Merlin leaned in for a chaste kiss before sitting Arthur down at his kitchen table, after which he began to pace. And wouldn’t stop pacing. “Whatever it is, I’m sure it’s not as bad as you think.”
“Oh, I promise, it’s worse,” Merlin laughed humorlessly before making himself sit down across the table. “Here’s the thing, Arthur. I’m going to tell you something, and it’s going to give you the power to ruin my life. I’d really like for you not to ruin my life, but I have to tell you in order to make this work. Because I don’t want to start dating you and have to tell you later, when we care about each other even more and it’ll hurt even more. There is a direct ratio between care and hurt here. So all I’m asking is that you give me a chance. And if you don’t want to do that, I understand; just please don’t ruin my life.”
“Tell me,” Arthur’s eyes were gentle and concerned, but Merlin knew that in about two minutes, they would become hard and angry. He knew Arthur; he knew that he wouldn’t be granted automatic forgiveness.
“I –” Merlin swallowed hard, and decided that he’d best just come out and say out. “I’m not a psychic.”
Arthur laughed, and it was the worst reaction Merlin could have imagined. “What?”
“I’m – I’m not a psychic, Arthur. I made it up to get out being arrested.”
“You’re – you’re serious, aren’t you?” Arthur’s gaze suddenly turned guarded and, as Merlin suspected, very angry. “You’ve been breaking the law under the police’s noses for five years. You – how could you risk that? If you were found out, they would arrest you.”
“Because I love it, Arthur,” Merlin exhaled, shaking with the physical strain it was taking to get through this. “I love doing this more than anything in the world. It’s the first thing I ever cared about, the only job I never quit. And Lance was there, and Gaius forgave me, and …and you, Arthur.”
“How –” There were pinpricks of tears in Arthur’s eyes. Merlin had never seen Arthur cry before, let alone been the cause of it, and guilt welled up inside of him. “You’ve lied to me all this time.”
“I just wanted to stay, Arthur. If I ever had to leave…I’d just go right back to being the person I was before. And that’s what’s going to happen to me if you tell the chief, or Morgana. So please – if you don’t want to be with me anymore, I can bear it, but please don’t tell anyone. I can’t lose what I have here.”
Arthur opened his mouth wordlessly, searching for something he couldn’t articulate. Merlin sat and let him process, anxiety running rampant through his veins. He had no idea how Arthur would react. Finally, Arthur spoke in a strangled voice. “Why did you tell me now? We – we could have been happy. Gotten what we both wanted.”
“It wouldn’t have been fair to you,” Merlin explained, bewildered by the question. “How could I be with you in this way, knowing that I was still lying to you? For a long time, I wouldn’t have thought twice about doing something like that. But you’ve made me a better person, Arthur. That’s the whole point.”
“A better person,” Arthur laughed humorlessly, scuffing his shoes against the floor’s wooden varnish. “That’s always been it, hasn’t it? You becoming better for me – and now you’re better than me. If I was in your shoes….I’d be terrified to tell anyone. Who else knows?”
“Just Gaius and Lance,” Merlin said, daring to hope just slightly. “And now you.”
“Makes sense, I suppose,” Arthur sighed heavily. “I wish you would have told me sooner.”
“Arthur, I still haven’t managed to get the words ‘I love you’ out yet. I have enough emotional baggage to last several lifetimes.”
“You said I love you once,” Arthur said almost emotionlessly. “But I suppose that was technically to Freya.”
“It was for you, too,” Merlin said after a moment, and he never thought he would be explaining this to Arthur. “I was dying when I said that. I didn’t know if I would make it. There was a reason I called you and not Lance or Morgana. If it was going to be the last thing you heard me say….”
“If I recall, the last thing you said was ‘Bye, Freya’,” Arthur scoffed in Merlin’s direction. “Really something to remember you by, Merlin.”
“I never said I didn’t screw up,” Merlin said, and glanced at Arthur’s guarded, but now somewhat more relaxed and calm expression. “Are you going to tell anyone?”
“Of course not,” Arthur said with a roll of his eyes. “Honestly, Merlin, I don’t hate you. I know what it would do to you.”
“…Do you forgive me?” Merlin asked, daring to hope.
Arthur sighed, looking down at his hands. “We could have been having sex right now, yet you chose to sit down and have a serious conversation about your flaws. Merlin from five years ago never would have done that. I’m still not pleased about this whole thing, but yes. I forgive you. And I still want to be with you.”
“Oh thank God,” Merlin said, reaching across the table to pull Arthur into a kiss.
“So,” Arthur said, nuzzling his face into the crook of Merlin’s neck. “What kind of car are you going to get?”
“Oh my God, stop,” Merlin laughed poking at Arthur’s side, and rolling to the other side of him to avoid his nagging questions.
“No, no, you promised me a car, you can’t renege that now,” Arthur pulled himself on top of Merlin, resting his chin on top of Merlin’s chest. “So what kind?”
“I said I was thinking about getting a car,” Merlin corrected him. “Thinking is not the same thing as getting. I won’t get rid of my bike for a day-old relationship. I need a little more commitment than that.”
“Okay,” Arthur said with a shit-eating grin. “So if I married you, what kind of car would you get?”
Merlin’s heart tightened at the thought, and not unpleasantly. Marriage was one the scariest things in the world to him for years, but yet when Arthur put it like that…
“Something cool,” Merlin decided. “An old Corvette. Or a Thunder Bird.”
“And what would it take for you to get an affordable car?” Arthur teased him, reaching up to pull at Merlin’s hair. Merlin batted his hands away.
“Probably a white picket fence and 2.5 kids,” Merlin chuckled at the way Arthur’s face crinkled up in laughter.
“I think you would love a station wagon,” Arthur shoved at Merlin’s legs with his own and Merlin shoved back, laughing and joyful.
“I’d need a lot more than 2.5 kids for something like that.”
“Lucky thing I like kids,” Arthur said, pulling himself upward to rest his head in the crook of Merlin’s neck, lips pressed in the hollow of Merlin’s throat.
“Personally, I think I can fit a lot of kids on my bike,” Merlin said, and Arthur chuckled as he mouthed at Merlin’s jaw.
“I hope you’re joking,” Arthur murmured as he lay back down, settling into the space between Merlin’s head and his neck, and Merlin kissed the crown of his head. He had never been this happy in his entire life, and couldn’t imagine any moment better than this.
“I’m….mostly joking…”