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Merlin carefully moves the vase of miniature red roses and cleans off the counter, looking about the little coffee shop.
There are only a few regulars there this afternoon, including Mithian, who sprawls in the alcove studying for her master’s thesis, several pencils sticking out of her disheveled hair. Arthur is upstairs in the single booth he frequents doing whatever it is he does with all his papers and mobile phones and coffee refills; and Gwaine sits opposite Merlin’s till, drinking hot chocolate, suggestively licking the cream off his upper lip and leering a little wolfishly while making fuck me eyes at Merlin.
Merlin gives Gwaine a little smile and turns toward Will, who’s decidedly laughing at him over by the baked goods.
“Oh, shut it,” Merlin ducks his head and whispers.
Will puts another sheet of cookies in the display case. “He looks like he wants to have you for dinner.”
“He’s nice enough,” Merlin chances a glance Gwaine’s way. “And if he’s the one who’s been sending me these flowers...”
Merlin’s been receiving a different bouquet every few days for weeks, but they never have a name attached, only a note dictated to the florist when ordered over the phone.
“He hardly seems the type to send flowers. I’d say flavored condoms are more his speed.”
“You’re right,” Merlin replies. “Perhaps it’s that big bloke that comes in on Tuesdays. The one with the glasses.”
“Is he interested in you?” Will asks.
Merlin shrugs. “Well, he doesn’t look at me like that.” He ticks his head in Gwaine’s direction.
“I wish sweet-bum over there would look at me with half the interest,” Will gives an exaggerated sigh, glancing at Mithian pouring over her text books.
Merlin crouches to put the whipped topping back into the small refrigerator under the counter. “You think calling her sweet-bum is likely to get you anywhere with her?”
Will gives Merlin a disgusted look. “Well, I won’t call her that to her face!”
“Excuse me," a familiar voice interrupts their conversation. "Are you going to wait on me, or do I have to continue listening to this pathetic interchange?”
Will sighs and starts toward Arthur, who shakes his head and points to Merlin with the flick of a finger.
“No, him.”
Merlin meets Will’s eyes before turning to look at Arthur Pendragon, who, in a semi-bored fashion, leans against the counter picking dead leaves from Merlin’s bouquet of roses. A ray of sunlight chooses that moment to pour from the glass door, forming a halo of light around Arthur’s blond head.
“Sorry,” Merlin says pleasantly, swiftly moving the flowers out of Arthur’s reach and trying to ignore how startlingly handsome he looks.
Merlin reaches for the coffee pot to refill Arthur’s cup. “Difficult day?”
Arthur’s perpetual pout wavers, and he looks at Merlin, unsure. “Why do you say that?”
Merlin indicates the rolled-up sleeves of Arthur’s blue Armani shirt and the crimson tie set uncharacteristically askew.
“You look at bit harried.”
“Bye, Merlin,” Gwaine calls, tapping the counter as he sweeps past with a wink. Merlin waves cheerfully.
Arthur clears his throat, and Merlin adds cream and sugar to Arthur’s coffee, just the way he likes it. When Merlin looks up, Arthur’s blue eyes are unguarded and clear.
“My…father had me running about a bit more than usual today.”
Merlin gives Arthur one of his brightest smiles and places a cookie on his saucer before handing it back to him. Even rich, self-entitled prats deserve a little extra kindness sometimes, he thinks.
“On the house,” Merlin says, “Will just made a fresh batch.”
Obviously taken aback, Arthur pauses a moment before giving Merlin a curt nod and turning to climb up the small spiral staircase to the lone booth upstairs.
Will comes up behind Merlin as he watches Arthur go, leaning with one arm on the counter top. “I think you knocked a chip of ice off the Grinch’s heart.”
“Wonder why he always sits up there?” Merlin muses.
“Probably can’t stand to be around people,” Will says. “I honestly think he’s allergic to them.”
Merlin shakes his head, chuckling, as Will crouches and slides a box of Halloween decorations out from under the counter.
****
The following day Arthur is there after work again, looking even more harassed as he barks his coffee order at Will between agitated swipes at his iPhone. When Arthur tastes the coffee, he immediately spews the mouthful out on the counter, causing Will to take a step back.
“This tastes nothing like the way Merlin makes it,” he complains, grabbing a napkin and wiping his mouth with it.
“Well pardon me, your highness,” Will scoffs, running a cloth over the counter. “Let me go get Merlin for you. Perhaps he stirs it with his dick, and that’s why it tastes so good.”
“No need to get lewd, you little troll,” Arthur says.
Will's face screws up belligerently. “What did you just call me?”
Arthur leans on the counter, eyes narrowing. “You’re deaf as well as unintelligent? It’s a wonder you could find employment at all, but I suspect Merlin’s a benevolent employer as well as superior at producing a cup of coffee.”
“Why you pompous, over-bearing…”
“Will!” Merlin bursts in from the back where he’s caught the hind end of the conversation. “I’ll take care of it.”
Arthur smirks as Will storms away, and Merlin begins preparing Arthur’s coffee.
The bells on the front door jingle, and Merlin looks up to see the large bloke with the glasses come in. That’s right; it is Tuesday, isn’t it? Merlin gives the man one of his best smiles before turning back to Arthur, who’s scowling, undoubtedly upset at being ignored.
“These flowers need a bit of water,” Arthur complains as Merlin hands the cup to him.
“I’ll keep that in mind,” Merlin replies, watching as Arthur takes a sip and deems it acceptable.
When Arthur doesn’t move away from the counter, Merlin says, “Can I get you anything else?”
Arthur blinks. “Perhaps one of those cookies you gave me before.”
“Oh!” Merlin heads for the glass case of baked goods. “So you liked Will’s peanut butter cookies?”
Arthur looks about quickly, obviously not wanting Will to overhear. “It was…I’m hungry, that’s all.”
Merlin returns with it, and Arthur thanks him. Arthur keeps a running tab that he pays dutifully at the end of every month, usually with a hefty tip added to it, which is why Merlin goes out of his way to be extra nice to him. Well, that isn’t the only reason; Arthur Pendragon is incredibly fit, and Merlin has to admit there’s something about the man that intrigues him. Underneath the grouchy, prattish exterior, Merlin suspects there lies someone worth getting to know; although Merlin doesn’t run in Arthur’s circle or anywhere near it and will probably never get the opportunity.
He’s suddenly reminded of the bloke who walked in and turns to see Freya giving him his change.
“What’s his name?” Merlin whispers to her after the man’s walked to a table.
“Percy Astor,” she answers, sotto voce. “And he’s definitely gay,” she giggles. “He’s the one Morgana King didn’t have any luck with at the New Year’s party.”
“Good Lord, he must be gay, then,” Merlin bites his lip. “Do you think he could be the one sending me the flowers?”
“Could be,” Freya replies. “He’s an attorney, so he can afford it. Go flirt with him, Merlin!”
Merlin dutifully crosses the room and asks Percy if everything’s to his satisfaction. He feels like a dolt since Percy only has a plain cup of coffee and probably hasn't even tasted it yet.
Percy looks up from his legal briefings, dark glasses perched on the end of his nose. “Oh, yes. Everything’s quite good, thanks, Marvin.”
Merlin blushes crimson. “Um, it’s Merlin.”
Percy looks back down at his papers. “Oh…sorry, yes.”
Merlin turns to see Arthur leaning against the counter, a definite smirk on his face.
“May I have a refill?” he asks when Merlin approaches. “Marvin?”
Merlin scowls. “Shut it.”
Arthur’s brows shoot up. “What did you say?”
“You heard me, prat,” Merlin pours his coffee.
Arthur’s lips twitch. “Merlin, I’ll have you know, there’s a much better coffee shop down the street where they aren’t likely to insult me.”
“Why don’t you go there, then?” Merlin asks, brow rising. He’s not sure why he’s driving off his best customer, except that his pride is hurt and Arthur’s an arse.
Arthur regards Merlin for a moment.
“Because there’s something about you--‘re coffee, Merlin,” Arthur's eyes hold Merlin's a moment as he brings the cup to his lips before heading back upstairs, his mind obviously on work again.
Will appears from the back to watch Arthur make his way up the spiral staircase. “Too bad he didn’t take the hint.”
Merlin sighs. “He’s a faithful customer.” He cocks his head to the side. “And just look at that arse.”
“I like birds, mate,” Wills replies with a huff before returning to the back room to check the oven.
****
Two days later Merlin thinks it might be Cedric, the man who delivers their coffee grounds and other supplies, who’s sending him the flowers, when Cedric lingers a bit longer than usual to chat with Merlin about the order.
Cedric isn’t bad looking, if you like the thin, mousey type. Which Merlin doesn’t, really. But getting flowers is the most romantic thing that’s ever happened to Merlin, and the arrangements are so thoughtful, always with a note giving a reason why they were chosen.
The sunflowers had been the first, out of season and undoubtedly expensive. For your sunny smile, the card had read. That note had brought a large smile to Merlin’s face, along with the thought that his admirer must be quite the romantic type. Merlin had found himself grinning uncontrollably at everyone that day; he’d even gotten a smile out of Arthur Pendragon, of all people-- A smile that had made Merlin’s stomach flip unexpectedly.
Then there were the lilacs, Because they’re your favourites, Merlin. And how had his admirer known that? Merlin recalled a conversation about flowers he’d had with Freya one day, and that realization had Will, Merlin, and Freya occupied for hours trying to recall who’d been in the shop at the time, but they didn’t have any luck.
Frankly, Merlin’s fairly certain that Cedric hadn’t been there, but he’s looking at him just now over the signed order slip with definite interest, so Merlin gives him a bright, toothy grin.
“Wow, love your mouth,” Cedric says, gaze lingering there, and Merlin’s encouraged before Cedric shatters his hopes by adding, “Want to slip in the back for a blow? I have about fifteen minutes before my next delivery.”
“Um, you haven’t been sending me flowers, have you,” Merlin states dubiously.
“What?” Cedric tilts his head back and laughs, Adam’s apple bobbing in his skinny neck. “No, mate! But that’s a good one!” He leaves, still laughing, and Merlin turns, bumping into Arthur, whose eyes are locked on Cedric’s retreating form.
“Arthur, what are you doing back here?” Merlin asks, flustered.
“You had a delivery,” Arthur answers, jaw working.
“I know,” Merlin replies. “That was the delivery man.”
“I mean in the front,” Arthur corrects, not meeting Merlin’s gaze. “Flowers.” He turns abruptly and retreats in the direction he came. Merlin follows to find a beautiful vase of freesias sitting on the counter.
“There’s no note,” Merlin says, disappointed. “There should be some sort of note.” He looks to Arthur, who only shrugs and stares at the newspaper in front of him.
Three days later, it’s raining outside. People come in, shaking droplets out of their hair and off their umbrellas, ordering coffee to warm themselves up and pastries because they smell so wonderful. The little coffee shop is cozy and inviting, and it’s soon packed, the booths as well as the bar filled to capacity, the hum of pleasant conversation filling the air. Days like this remind Merlin why he chose to open a shop in the first place, and he finds himself in a singularly good mood.
Merlin sees that Arthur has again secured the sole booth at the top of the spiral staircase, where the restrooms and Merlin’s small flat are the only other reason to go up there. When Merlin bought Magical Grounds, it was worth it to him to live in the small apartment above the shop while he got the business going. Now he finds he prefers it.
Arthur's face is full of concentration, illuminated by his lap top screen, and Merlin turns to the next customer, a very handsome South American man with tanned skin and dark, soulful eyes.
“Hello,” the man smiles at Merlin, and Merlin can’t help but smile back.
“Hello, what can I get you this afternoon?”
“With all this rain, I think a large, steaming cup of coffee with cream and sugar, and maybe a couple of those brownies,” the man replies.
“Good choice,” Merlin says ringing him up and giving him the total. “It doesn’t look like it’s going to stop raining anytime soon.”
A crack of thunder shakes the building, drowning out the man’s reply. Merlin gets his coffee.
“Thanks. I’m Lance, by the way. I’ve been in here a few times, but you’ve never waited on me.”
“Oh, well, I’m glad you’ve come back,” Merlin says.
“You have a nice smile,” Lance tells him with a bit of a blush as he turns away with his coffee and brownies to find a place to sit.
Merlin watches him go, suddenly wondering.
“What are you reading?” Merlin asks Gwen a few moments later as he makes his way around the room giving refills.
“The Mayan Secrets,” she answers, showing him the cover. “It’s really good.”
“Maybe I’ll read it sometime,” Merlin tells her, inching by her table and over to the booth where Mithian sits, head in her books. She’s so engrossed, she doesn’t seem to notice Merlin at all when he pours her coffee. Gwaine looks up from his newspaper and gives Merlin a lascivious wink.
“Thanks, Merlin,” Gwaine says when Merlin’s finished pouring, somehow managing to make Merlin's name sound like a dirty promise.
“You’re welcome,” Merlin moves on, face burning. He feels a light brush of fingers pass over his bum and just manages not to jump. From out of the corner of his eye, Merlin can see Will smirking at him. Thunder rolls in the distance, rattling the cups on the shelves.
Merlin fills a few more cups, sorry to see that Lance doesn’t yet need a refill, then climbs the stairs to where Arthur’s on his mobile telling someone off as only he can; Merlin feels exceedingly sorry for the person on the other line. Arthur nods curtly at Merlin when he proffers the pot, and scoots his cup Merlin's way with his left index finger, the one with the platinum ring on it he always wears. Merlin pours, glancing at the graphics pulled up on Arthur’s laptop screen, the piles of papers strewn all over the table, and the briefcase overrunning with folders. There are circles under Arthur’s eyes.
On impulse, Merlin takes a seat in the chair opposite Arthur, turning over the empty cup in front of him in its saucer and pouring himself some coffee. He watches Arthur talk for a few more moments, studying him, lightning flashing outside the window. He’s never really stopped to just look at the man as a whole picture. Sure, Merlin realized Arthur’s hot a long time ago; he’d have to be blind not to. He’s seen the way the sunlight from the glass door hits his flaxen hair; he’s seen the blue of his eyes and the sharp line of his jaw; and he's noticed the wide, firm shoulders underneath the expensive shirts and the rounded arse pulling at the tailored trousers. But he’s never had the time to look at the whole.
At the moment, Arthur appears exhausted. He’s rubbing at his eyes with elegant fingers. His nose, narrow and patrician, is a bit red at the tip from receiving the same treatment, and his sharp jawline unshaven, as though Arthur’s skipped an accustomed afternoon touch-up for some reason. Merlin has the sudden desire to run his fingers over it, or perhaps his tongue.
Where did that come from?
Which brings Merlin’s attention to Arthur’s ruby red lips, pouting again as Merlin stares at them, wondering what they taste like, watching as the very tip of Arthur’s tongue comes out to sweep across them. On the whole, Arthur’s face is like a picture from a storybook…a prince, or king, maybe. Albeit a tired one at this moment.
Merlin blinks rapidly, looking up to meet Arthur’s eyes.
Arthur’s mouth falls open, arrested mid-sentence. He tells the person on the other line he has to go and ends the call.
“Something I can do for you?” he asks Merlin, staring, eyes a deeper blue than they were a moment ago, Merlin is sure.
“No,” Merlin hides his face in his coffee. “Just thought I’d take a break while I can.”
“Oh.” Arthur frowns, but doesn’t say anything else. He looks at the mess around him before sighing, leaning back in his own seat and reaching for his cup. After he takes a sip, he closes his eyes.
“Your coffee is heavenly,” he murmurs.
Merlin snorts, wishing for a moment that Arthur liked something more than his coffee.
“What?” Arthur opens his eyes and glares.
“Nothing,” Merlin shrugs.
“Can’t I pay you a compliment?” Arthur asks.
“Sure,” Merlin replies easily, looking away.
“I love your coffee,” Arthur tells him. “You make the perfect cup. If I could, I would wrap you up and take you home with me.”
There’s an awkward moment when Arthur seems to realize what he just said. He rushes on. “To make my coffee every morning, of course.”
“Of course,” Merlin repeats, imagining himself being carted to a posh flat and kept as Arthur’s personal coffee slave. The idea is oddly erotic.
Merlin’s lips twitch, and he turns sideways to look over the railing at the customers below, thinning out a bit as a few run out into the torrent to catch the bus that’s stopped at the corner. Freya and Will seem to have everything under control for the moment.
He finds Lance in the crowd, still seated and sipping his coffee. Merlin wonders if he could be the one who’s been sending Merlin flowers. He did seem a bit flirty earlier when he ordered, taking the time to introduce himself and point out that Merlin has never waited on him before.
“Arthur,” Merlin says suddenly over the end of a jarring boom of thunder.
“Hm?” Arthur’s taken refuge in his mobile, head bent, thumb scrolling.
“If you were receiving anonymous flowers once a week, and you suspected you knew who might be sending them to you, would you ask them outright?”
When there’s no answer after several long seconds, Merlin turns to look at Arthur, who’s staring past his mobile phone to the table. Finally, Arthur sets his mobile down and straightens his shoulders, raising his eyes to meet Merlin’s.
“I would, yes,” Arthur replies seriously.
Merlin’s eyes rake over Arthur’s face, which seems more sincere than usual. Merlin nods once and gets up from his seat. “I’ll do it then. Thanks, Arthur.” He begins to walk away.
“Merlin,” Arthur calls, a little uncertainly. “Where are you going?”
Merlin turns around. “Oh…See that dark-skinned man down there just behind where Will’s standing? With the thick brown hair?”
Arthur leans forward and looks over the railing. He nods his head slowly.
“That’s Lance. I’m pretty sure he’s the one who’s been sending me flowers. I’m going to go talk to him.”
Several emotions run over Arthur's face in quick succession, none of which Merlin can identify.
“Merlin, you dolt!" Arthur bursts out when Merlin gets to the top of the steps.
Merlin’s anxious to get downstairs before Lance leaves. He stops, staring back at Arthur, who has risen from his seat. “What?”
“If you had a lick of sense in your head, you’d realize that I’m the one who’s been sending you those flowers!”
Arthur's words hang in the air as a flash of lightning illuminates the windows, followed by a loud crack of thunder that shakes the building. The electricity flickers and goes out, leaving Merlin, Arthur, and everyone else in complete darkness.
Downstairs, everyone begins talking at once. Something hits the floor, skidding past Merlin’s foot.
“Dammit!” Arthur swears.
“What happened?”
“I’ve dropped my fucking phone,” Arthur’s voice comes from somewhere near the floor. “I can’t see a damn thing…I can’t find it.”
“Merlin!” Will yells. “Is there a torch around here?”
“Shit,” Merlin mutters backing away from the stairs. “The batteries are out!” he calls down. “But there may be candles in a drawer in the kitchen!”
A small light appears in the darkness—someone’s phone app—and Merlin can make out Will’s form moving toward the kitchen area. He turns back to where he thinks Arthur might be.
“Arthur, did you really send me those flowers, or are you just being a prat?”
Arthur doesn’t answer.
“Arthur?” Merlin turns in a slow circle before taking a step backward and tumbling over something, landing hard on the floor, flat on his back.
“Fuck!” Merlin reaches out and latches onto what he thinks must be Arthur’s tie, yanking on it, getting a satisfyingly strangled sound for his efforts.
Merlin struggles to sit up. “Answer me!”
Arthur’s fingers encircle Merlin's hand, prying them away from his tie. “I will, if you’ll stop trying to kill me!” His voice is hoarse.
“Sorry,” Merlin mutters, letting go, “but you weren’t talking, and then you tripped me.”
“After you accused me of lying!”
“It’s only that it’s a bit difficult to believe!” Merlin turns his head to where he thinks Arthur is.
“Why?” Arthur asks. “Because a pillock like Arthur Pendragon would never send someone flowers?”
Merlin frowns, reaching out in the darkness for any part of Arthur he can touch. His hand finds Arthur’s calf, and Merlin clutches it. The material of Arthur’s trousers is silky soft, serving as a reminder that Arthur is well out of Merlin's league.
“No,” he corrects, “because you’ve been here all along, even going so far as to deliver a vase of them to me yourself, yet you’ve never told me they’re from you!”
Arthur is silent. Merlin doesn’t withdraw his hand. He waits patiently for Arthur to say something. Outside the rain is falling in sheets, slapping noisily against the window pane. Another sudden crack of thunder is followed by a feminine squeal downstairs.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” Merlin asks softly.
“You never once suspected they could be from me.”
Merlin is surprised to hear a note of hurt in Arthur's voice.
“You’ve never shown the slightest interest in me.”
“I talk to you all the time!” Arthur huffs. “I’ll only allow you to make my coffee!”
Merlin laughs. “And that’s supposed to mean you like me?”
“Yes!” Arthur exclaims on a whoosh of air. Merlin hears him take a deep breath. “I was going to tell you with the last bouquet,” he admits. “It was on the note. But when I saw you’d resorted to asking delivery men if they were sending them, I chickened out.”
“Oh,” Merlin says softly. “I was grasping at straws…at anyone who’d shown interest in me at all. It wasn’t that I liked Cedric. I was actually pretty relieved that he wasn’t the one.”
“And how do you feel now that you know that I’m the one?” Arthur asks after a moment.
Merlin stares into the darkness, the hubbub of noise below seeming far away from what is going on there in the balcony. In truth, it would have been easier if Cedric had been the one.
Carefully, Merlin slides his hand up past Arthur’s knee along his outer thigh, leaning closer.
“I’m surprised, for one,” Merlin replies, “that a man like you would even look at a man like me.”
“What are you talking about?” Arthur scoffs. “You’re brilliant. You have a smile that lights up a room. Why do you think I come here all the time? Your smile makes me forget that abominable place where I work.” Something warm blooms in Merlin’s chest and spreads at Arthur’s words. “Those sunflowers…the way people feel when they look at them is the way I feel when I see your smile,” Arthur says quietly, sincerely, and Merlin’s heart melts then and there.
“Oh, my God, Arthur,” he whispers, throat clogging up.
“Well, don’t go and cry about it,” Arthur mutters.
“No one’s ever said anything so wonderfully nice to me before.” Merlin's mind reels that this dashing, well-to-do man is somehow enamoured with him, Merlin Emrys, owner of Magical Grounds Coffee Shop.
Arthur grabs hold of Merlin’s hand where it rests on his thigh, squeezing it gently, even as he berates him for being a crybaby.
“Kiss me,” Merlin half-orders, half-pleads.
He hears Arthur’s small intake of breath, feels him fumble a bit.
“I can’t see you!”
“I’m right here,” Merlin says, groping for Arthur’s arm.
Arthur’s lips land on Merlin’s nose, but soon they get sorted out and the warmth of Arthur’s breath on Merlin’s face feels right, as do his lips skimming across Merlin’s and tongue sliding into Merlin’s eager mouth. Merlin runs his hand up Arthur’s shoulder, cupping stubbled jaw as they kiss, moving so that their bodies press together temptingly. And then Arthur tumbles backward onto the floor, and Merlin finds himself hovering over him, their mouths still attached, working over one another languidly. Arthur’s hands move over Merlin’s back to rest on his arse, and Merlin pulls in a deep breath.
“Oh, I’m sorry,” Arthur mumbles into Merlin’s mouth. “I wasn’t trying to take advantage.”
Merlin can’t help but chuckle.
“What?” Arthur huffs against Merlin’s cheek.
“Take advantage? Really, Arthur? I’m neither fourteen nor a girl!”
“Well, pardon me for being a gentleman.”
“You’re so posh.”
Merlin kisses him again.
The lights begin to flicker, and Merlin suddenly realizes they’re going to come on and everyone’s going to see him and Arthur lying on the floor snogging like teenagers.
“Let’s go in my apartment. It’s right behind you.”
He feels Arthur crane his head back.
Merlin laughs. “You can’t see it, numpty. The electricity’s out, remember?”
Arthur gives Merlin’s arse a little pinch. “You’re going to pay for talking to me like that.”
“I’m looking forward to it,” Merlin replies devilishly. He pushes himself up and feeling his way toward the door to his rooms.
“I can’t see a bloody thing, Merlin!” Arthur complains.
“Just crawl. In a straight line.”
“Pendragons do not crawl.”
Merlin fishes out his key from his pocket and feels for the lock. “If you tell me Pendragons don’t get on their knees for anyone, I’m going to have to rethink this.”
Arthur's voice is suddenly in Merlin's ear. “This Pendragon would gladly fall to his knees for you.” Merlin's cock grows painfully hard in his pants.
Once in the dark apartment behind the closed door, Merlin sinks into Arthur’s embrace.
“Tell me,” he says after several minutes of intense snogging in which he wonders why he’d never considered Arthur more fully before. “Why me?”
“Merlin!” Arthur sounds exasperated. He kisses a trail up Merlin’s jawline and speaks into his ear. “I’ve wanted you forever. You’re…you’re nice. You ask me about things that no one else asks me about.”
Merlin frowns, thumbs moving over the soft skin just under Arthur's shirt. “I do?”
“Yes, you do. You always do, no matter how busy you are. It makes me feel…I don’t know. Important to someone. And you give me…cookies.” Arthur sounds embarrassed. He presses a kiss to Merlin’s neck that takes Merlin's breath away.
Merlin doesn’t know what to say. He’d had no idea that these things made such an impression on Arthur. Hand to Arthur's jaw, he pulls the man in for a kiss, enjoying the scent of Arthur's expensive cologne and the feel of soft lips against his.
When they part again, he whispers, “I really did want to know how you were doing. You never look very happy.”
“I’m happiest when I’m here, drinking your coffee.” Arthur's voice is soft, stripped of all pretense, and it squeezes at Merlin's heart.
“You like my coffee that much?”
“No,” Arthur replies slowly, “I like you that much.”
“Oh.”
“Yes, oh.” Arthur finds Merlin’s lips again, and Merlin’s lost.
It isn’t long before the electricity comes back on, but it remains dim in Merlin’s apartment, where Merlin and Arthur have fallen onto the bed in a tangle of limbs.
“They’re going to be looking for me,” Merlin says, breathing heavily as Arthur licks a stripe from one collarbone to the other. “I really should get back. I don’t want to, but I should.”
“All right,” Arthur says. But his mouth slides up to take Merlin’s again in a searing kiss that wipes all thought from Merlin’s brain for long, intense moments.
Finally Merlin pulls away, smiling at Arthur. They both stand up and straighten their clothes-- rearranging their erections in their pants—then slip out of Merlin’s rooms.
“Where in the world did you go?” Will asks when Merlin appears downstairs. Most of the customers have cleared out.
“Oh, sorry, I went into my place for a bit. Had to use the bathroom.” Merlin helps Will clean a few tables, and when he looks about for Arthur, finds that he’s gone.
The following morning, a huge bouquet of mixed autumn flowers arrives.
“That admirer of yours is at it again,” Will states, and Freya squeals. Merlin hasn’t told them anything yet, preferring to keep it to himself for a bit. He takes the card out. It reads, Dinner? A.
Will’s looking over Merlin’s shoulder, and all thought of privacy goes out the window. “Who the hell is A?”
“It’s Arthur,” Merlin smiles besottedly.
“Arthur Pendragon?” Will almost shouts, and Freya claps her hands, dancing about.
“Oh, Merlin! I always thought he looks at you in a certain way!”
“Really?” Merlin asks, turning to look at her. “What certain way?”
“That ponce?” Will asks in disbelief.
“Like you’re the only person in the room,” Freya sighs, hands over heart.
“He does?” Merlin asks, unable to keep the pleasure from lacing his words. “Really? How long’s he been doing it?”
“But he’s such a tosser!” Will groans, smacking his forehead. “I can’t believe this!”
“As long as he’s been coming in here,” Freya answers.
“Freya!” Merlin scolds, “Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I don’t know…you never mentioned him. I didn’t even know you thought him good looking.”
“The man is a twat!” Will slaps the counter, making everything on it shake. “I mean, sure, he has the money, but who knew he could even come up with the idea of flowers? I bet his secretary did it all for him.”
Merlin stares at Freya. “Of course, I think he’s good looking! I’d have to be crazy not to. But I never in a million years thought he’d ever notice me--I just thought he loved my coffee!”
At this, Will gives Merlin an incredulous look. “Merlin, you can’t honestly think that you’re that great at putting cream and sugar into coffee.”
Merlin turns to him. “You mean you knew he likes me?”
Will shrugs. “Not exactly. I thought it was more that he hated me. I just assumed he was being a prat about the coffee and wanted you to fix it just to annoy me. But it certainly wasn’t because your coffee-making skills are all that.”
Merlin shakes his head. “I can’t believe I’ve been so oblivious. I feel really bad about it. I pretty much asked Arthur for advice about my secret admirer.”
Freya covers her mouth with her hand. “You didn’t!”
Merlin nods. “Did. That’s when he told me that he’s the one who’s been sending the flowers.”
“Then what happened?” Freya asks, eyes wide.
“Then…we made out.” Merlin blushes.
Will begins opening drawers and slamming them shut as he takes out what he needs for the morning rush.
“Out of all the men who come in here, he has to take a liking to you,” Will grumbles.
“He’s not what you think he is, Will,” Merlin tells him. “He’s really quite sweet. You’ve read the notes on the flowers.”
Will glares. “He called me a troll!”
“Ah, yeah. There’s that.” Merlin shrugs and gives Freya a wink.
“I like you, Will,” Freya says, and Will turns pink, freckles standing out on his nose.
“Thanks, Freya.”
Merlin laughs.
Will scowls, tying an apron around his back. “Shut it, Merlin.” He heads for the kitchen to bake scones.
Merlin plugs up the plastic jack o’ lanterns and fills the coffee machines while Freya counts money into the till.
When Arthur walks in during the lunch rush, Merlin’s too busy to stop and talk, but gives a smile and a nod at Arthur’s questioning look. Arthur holds up seven fingers before leaving with his coffee.
“See, Arthur let me make his coffee today,” Freya points out when things die down. “Now that he’s got you in the bag.”
“I’m hardly in the bag, Freya,” Merlin colours, but he knows he really, really is.
That night Arthur tries to take Merlin to a restaurant so posh Merlin’s afraid he wouldn’t know which cutlery to use to eat what.
“Can’t we tone it down a little?’ Merlin asks him when they enter the parking lot, and Merlin sees the valet. “You don’t have to impress me, you know.”
Arthur stares at him a moment before turning his BMW around and driving them to a small diner on the other side of town.
“Will this do?”
“Perfect.” Merlin smiles.
They order hamburgers and fries, and Merlin wipes ketchup off Arthur’s chin with a napkin.
“Who knew you’d be such a messy eater?” Merlin teases. “I’ve only ever seen you eat cookies.”
Arthur smiles. “I rather like letting my hair down like this.”
“It’d be better if you weren’t wearing that expensive suit,” Merlin tells him. “I’d really love to see you in a pair of jeans and a T-shirt.”
Merlin gets his wish the following night when Arthur takes him to a movie. They hold hands and eat popcorn, Arthur occasionally sucking the butter off Merlin’s fingers in a manner that makes Merlin so hard he throbs in his jeans, but when Arthur takes him home, he leaves Merlin with a fairly chaste kiss at the door.
“Are you wooing me?” Merlin asks him.
“Perhaps,” Arthur answers.
Merlin smiles, accepting it. He still isn’t sure that he and Arthur can really make a go of a relationship. He likes Arthur, and he really likes the way that being with Merlin seems to erase the stress lines that have been around Arthur’s eyes as long as he’s been coming into Magical Grounds. But the fact remains that Merlin and Arthur are from two different worlds. What could they possibly have to talk about?
The next day when Arthur comes into the coffee shop, he doesn’t sit at the booth upstairs but chooses the table nearest the counter, spreading his work over it and glancing at Merlin occasionally, giving him a small, private smile. Merlin finds himself smiling back and occasionally watching Arthur when he’s working, head bowed over papers. More than once, Merlin wonders what it would feel like to have Arthur’s elegant fingers roaming his body. The very thought sends shivers over his skin.
When Will sees Arthur’s new choice of tables, he just shakes his head and moves on.
On Saturday Arthur takes Merlin to a fall festival in the country that Merlin mentioned seeing in the paper.
They have caramel apples, and Arthur gets licked by a sheep at the petting zoo.
“It’s okay to say you’re disgusted,” Merlin tells him, watching Arthur try to school his features.
Arthur gives Merlin a look. “I’m not disgusted,” he replies, holding his hand a good foot away from his body.
“Uh huh, right. I don’t think the sheep’s germs are really going to hurt you, Arthur.”
“I know that!”
Merlin laughs.
“Stop laughing at me,” Arthur grumbles.
Merlin grabs the offending hand and laces his fingers with Arthur’s, and after a moment, Arthur relaxes.
“I’m just used to living in the city,” Arthur tells Merlin. “Where there are no farm animals to speak of.”
Merlin squeezes Arthur’s hand. “You don’t have to explain.”
“I had a nanny who would have sterilized my hand for less."
They watch a woman spin her own wool for a while and then Merlin spots the Ferris wheel, his very favourite thing at the fairs in Ealdor, and drags Arthur that way.
Merlin loves being high over the ground, looking down at everything for miles around. People look so small—it's like he's on top of the world.
He explains this to Arthur as he points out different landmarks, the wheel slowly rising to the top as they sit in the swinging buckets. “It reminds me of when I was little, and Will and I used to go to the traveling fair that they put up one weekend and took down the next. Mum always worried the Ferris wheel was dangerous and might break apart…” Merlin suddenly realizes he’s babbling, and Arthur isn’t saying anything.
“Arthur?” He looks at him. Arthur sits rigidly, hands gripping the bar as they rise around the back of the wheel again, cresting the top. “Arthur, are you all right?”
“Fine. I’m fine, Merlin.” Arthur looks straight ahead, eyes wide.
“Oh, my God, you’re scared of heights!” Merlin exclaims, and Arthur squeezes his eyes shut.
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I’m fine, really,” Arthur says tightly. “Enjoy the ride, please...”
The wheel descends and moves around the back again, picking up speed.
“Oh, fuck,” Arthur murmurs under his breath, sweat breaking out on his forehead.
“You should have told me,” Merlin says, looking over his shoulder. The bucket seat sways.
“Don’t move!” Arthur exclaims, knuckles going white on the bar. “Please don’t fucking move.”
“Hey,” Merlin touches Arthur’s arm. “It’s okay. Really. The ride will stop soon, and we’ll get off. Keep your eyes closed if you like and just breathe.”
The ride stops all right. At the very top.
“What happened?” Arthur asks, opening his eyes and looking around in panic.
“They’re just letting someone else on,” Merlin replies, peering over the side.
“Oh, God, Merlin, stop moving the seat…” Arthur begs, agitated. Merlin feels terrible. He dragged Arthur on the ride, and of course Arthur hadn’t wanted to admit that he’s terrified of high places. And terrified he is; Merlin’s never seen anyone so white.
Carefully, so as not to jar the seat, Merlin puts his arm around Arthur, trying to make him feel secure. “It’s okay, really. You’re fine. The seat won’t fall.”
Arthur shuts his eyes again, breathing erratically.
“Shh, everything’s okay, Arthur. Honestly.”
After a moment, the wheel starts up again. Merlin wants to shout for them to stop it so they can get off, but he doesn’t want to embarrass Arthur. He's never been on a ride that seems so long. How must it feel to Arthur? He bites his lip. Finally, the ride slows down, and they begin unloading, an excruciatingly long process where they keep stopping the wheel, which makes the seats rock back and forth. Merlin thinks Arthur’s going to have a heart attack. He talks to him in a low, comforting voice.
“My Aunt Sally was afraid of heights. She wouldn’t cross over bridges.”
Arthur bows his head and risks opening an eye. Seeing that they’re still hundreds of feet in the air, he closes it again.
"She traveled fifty miles out of the way to come to our house just to avoid the bridge that was the shortcut."
The pulse in Arthur's temple throbs. “I didn’t think it would be this bad. I haven’t been on one of these since I was a boy. I thought perhaps…perhaps I was just being a baby then, like Father said.”
“No,” Merlin ventures. “I think we can safely say you have a genuine fear of heights. I would avoid them if I were you. Do you get this way in tall buildings? Out on a balcony?”
Arthur winces as they descend a bit more, but opens his eyes, fixing them on Merlin and nods once.
“I’m sorry I insisted on this ride,” Merlin says.
“Nonsense, I’m a grown man, I could have said no. I’m sorry I’ve ruined things.”
Merlin squeezes Arthur's shoulder and gives Arthur a cheeky grin. “You haven’t ruined anything. If anything, you’ve made me feel big, strong, and desirable.”
Arthur cocks his brow, visibly relaxing as their seat gets closer to the ground. “Merlin, are you comparing me to a damsel in distress?”
“Maybe?”
The ride finally stops, and they get off. Arthur takes a deep breath and lets it out. “I feel like an utter fool.”
“Don’t,” Merlin tells him. “I’m afraid of crickets.”
Arthur looks at him. “Crickets? You mean the bugs that jump?” Merlin nods, and Arthur makes a face. “Why? They don’t bite or anything.”
“It’s mostly those brown ones that jump really high,” Merlin explains. “Cave crickets. They have the long antennae. I just don’t like them. We used to have them in our basement when I was a boy-- I scream like a girl if they jump at me.”
“They only do that to try to frighten you away,” Arthur tells him.
“Well, it works,” Merlin shivers.
Arthur puts an arm around him. “I’ll protect you from the cave crickets, Merlin,” he promises.
“Will you get me some cotton candy, too?” Merlin asks, laying his head on Arthur’s shoulder.
“That, too.”
“I think we could be good together,” Merlin pronounces later as they leave the fair, the sun setting over the tree line ahead, spreading reds and golds over the horizon. “At first I didn’t think so, but now I’ve changed my mind.”
“What changed it?” Arthur digs in his pocket for his car keys and looks up at Merlin, eyes bluer than any summer sky Merlin ever remembers seeing.
Merlin shrugs and looks around at the people leaving the fair. “I don’t know. It’s just…I never even considered for a moment that you might be the one sending me the flowers because it seemed someone like you couldn’t possibly go for someone like me. And I thought we would never get on because we wouldn’t have anything in common. But you’ve proved me wrong this week. You’ve shown me you like me for me.”
Arthur shakes his head. “Of course I do. What else would I like you for? That swill you serve and call coffee?”
Arthur keeps a serious face while Merlin processes his words, then breaks into a large grin. Merlin’s finally able to take a breath.
“You plonker!” Merlin shoves at Arthur’s shoulder before grabbing him by the back of the neck and pulling him in for a kiss. Arthur drops his keys and the stuffed bear Merlin won for him in the ring toss and wraps his arms around Merlin, holding him close, the Ferris wheel a dark shadow towering behind them. Merlin smiles into the kiss, and Arthur sighs with what sounds to Merlin like happiness.
finis