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Merlin woke up dazed on the sofa, his vision blurry, and he could only see Arthur’s head in his line of sight. Merlin grumbled something unintelligible then ran his hand through Arthur’s hair, soothing and warm, for no discernable reason other than he just wanted to. Arthur hummed, still writing something down on the coffee table as he sat on the floor, back against where Merlin had napped. Merlin didn’t even notice that he moved, pressing a kiss to the back of Arthur’s neck. A hello, good morning type of kiss like he always did with his partners. But then it hit him, what he had just done and his eyes shot open, wide and panicked, before he quickly yanked his hand back.
They weren’t dating.
Fuck, Merlin wasn’t even normally this affectionate with his previous girlfriends and boyfriends. He never felt the need for an excessive amount of PDA, always content with small actions and steady words. But it was always different with Arthur. Arthur never fit into any mould Merlin loosely set for him: a boss, a best friend, anything really.
Arthur had never once felt like Merlin’s boss. For all intents and purposes, his job title as Arthur’s personal assistant is just that. A title. He was never just a PA. He was an antagoniser, he was an advisor, he was so many things that the label just summed it up. And Arthur was never just a best friend. Most of Arthur’s standard friendships consisted of going out for a few pints at a pub on the weekends, complaining about shit that happened and only a quick jostling of shoulders, a perfunctory handshake, a side hug as physical contact. But that was never what happened with Arthur. Yeah, they did drink on the weekend and whinge endlessly, but Merlin never expected Arthur’s affections to be quite so tactile.
In all honesty, Merlin would never have guessed that Arthur, the picture perfect definition of a man’s man, would be so casual with his touch with another male, let alone Merlin of all people. Not that Arthur was homophobic or had some semblance of toxic behaviour in his bones (Morgana would have nipped that in the bud the first instance she had an inkling), but he seemed to exude masculinity, but the only type that mattered, the masculinity that was founded on tolerance and love.
And it wasn’t that Merlin hated Arthur’s affections. In fact, it was the exact opposite, but the lines between friendship and something more were bubbling underneath the surface every time they touched. Merlin wouldn’t change it for the world.
It was as if he didn’t know that he was starving until he got a taste for it and then it was useless to fight back against the hunger. His mum was affectionate and he wasn’t exactly deprived of it during childhood or even now, but the way Arthur showed that he cared made his stomach cave in and it made him a little breathless with want.
It was a calloused thumb against his cheek, wind chapped lips against his forehead, arms winding around his waist, hands intertwined in his. It was easy laughter and even easier hugs, cuddling on the couch with so much room to spare around them, the whisper of breath against his neck as they fell asleep wrapped up in each other’s embrace.
And Merlin so readily reciprocated. He pressed lazy kisses on Arthur’s cheeks, ran his hand through Arthur’s soft hair, let Arthur’s weight ground him when Arthur had accidentally slept atop his chest. He rubbed his thumb against the back of Arthur’s hand, wrapped himself behind Arthur as he tried to cook something for them, pressed his lips to Arthur’s ring just because he could.
It was quite easily the most affectionate relationship he had ever had with anyone, even including all of his last romantic endeavours, and he wasn’t even dating Arthur. And it didn’t feel weird because it was just them at their core.
But when he kissed the nape of Arthur’s neck that afternoon, something in him sang, like he finally realised what feelings were embedded in his chest and he could finally associate words with them. God, it was a little embarrassing how long it took for him to realise what it was that he was feeling.
He was in love with Arthur.
It wasn’t so much of a surprise than a ‘how the fuck do I tell him now’ type of revelation. And all while Merlin was contemplating his entire life in the span of about five seconds, Arthur leaned back a bit more and asked, tilting his head slightly as a subtle reminder for Merlin to bring his hands back to Arthur’s hair, “Nice kip?”
Merlin was never one to ignore such a command, so he obliged, smiling warmly. He said, “Perfect.”
“Good, you needed one. I can’t let you stumble around the office again without a decent night’s rest. That’d make me look like the idiot for not firing you.” Arthur’s words were caustic, but Merlin grinned. He could hear the undercurrent of concern beneath those words. It warmed him, just how much Arthur cared.
“You couldn’t fire me, you’d be useless without me, prat,” Merlin retorted and he tugged Arthur’s hair gently as he insulted him. It was strangely reminiscent of school kids taunting each other because they liked one another, but Merlin deigned to comment on it.
Arthur huffed. “I’m the CEO, of course I can fire you.” But he didn’t exactly disagree with the rest of his statement.
Merlin’s teasing grin softened into something inexplicably fond. He didn’t even bother replying, just gripped Arthur’s t-shirt lightly to pull him up onto Arthur’s insanely expensive, but rather large sofa. Thank God for having a rich best friend. Arthur laughed and toppled onto him, wrapping his arm around Merlin’s waist and laying his head in the crook of Merlin’s neck.
“CEOs deserve to take naps too,” Merlin mumbled, already feeling himself slowly drift back into his previous sleepy state. Two all-nighters had killed his brain and he honestly wouldn’t mind another few hours to get caught up on his sleep.
Merlin gently rubbed his hand across Arthur’s back, feeling the way his breaths deepened and the tension leak from his body. He barely registered Arthur’s hum on acknowledgement before they both fell asleep.
When Merlin woke up hours later, he felt colder and he blinked open his eyes to find Arthur standing above him with a grin. “You slept through the entire day, Merlin. You’re going to miss pub night again. We’re already late. Gwaine probably started drinking without us.”
“Gwaine always starts without us.” Merlin scrunched up his nose, feeling the lingering warmth of Arthur’s body heat on his chest. Arthur didn’t change out of his clothing before, opting to just put a bomber jacket over his outfit. It was dreadfully unfair that he still looked like a model. Merlin didn’t even want to know what his hair looked like. Merlin continued, “And you know I only missed it because Mum was here last Sunday. Now budge over I need to get dressed.”
“Just put on your coat, you look fine as is.” Arthur hip checked him and laughed when he made Merlin stumble. Prat.
Merlin rolled his eyes, but shrugged on the short black coat over his grey t-shirt that might have originally been Arthur’s shirt but he wasn’t too sure. At this point, some of their wardrobe had meshed together and they never really bothered to fix it. Well, not since he moved out of his shoebox flat to live with Arthur.
Merlin grabbed his phone, wallet, and keys and placed them in his pocket. His hair was probably a curly mess on his head and Merlin felt the stubble on his cheeks but he hadn’t cared enough to go back to the bathroom and shave. It wasn't like he was trying to impress someone. The only person who Merlin actually wanted to impress had seen him in his worst.
They left without fanfare and walked a few blocks down from Arthur’s flat until they reached a nondescript pub he and their mates always went to, called The Rising Sun. It was a hidden gem filled mostly with regulars, friendly service, and the best food he could ask for when he was pissed off his arse.
Arthur’s hand was around his waist and Merlin’s hand slipped into the back of Arthur’s dark, denim jeans without a second thought. And before they had even stepped inside, Merlin could hear their mates, all loud laughter and fun cheers. He put all thoughts of telling Arthur about his feelings in favour of getting absolutely hammered. Hey, he deserved it, okay?
Merlin didn’t think about his feelings even after waking up with a massive headache, an Arthur-shaped sack of warmth against his sweaty chest. He groaned and pushed Arthur away, wincing as he let out an indignant yelp that pierced through Merlin’s ears. He didn’t think about it later that day, or the next, or the few after that.
Yes, he was stalling. Why? He didn’t know exactly. Merlin was confident enough in their friendship that his feelings wouldn’t do much to wreck it forever. But... he didn’t want anything to change. Not their gentle touches, the way they slept together in the same bed, or how they let their personal boundaries fall away. If his feelings embarrassed Arthur, or Merlin even, he was afraid that their casual affections would stop.
And, God, he never wanted it to stop.
Maybe that was why he hadn’t said anything yet. It was always on the tip of his tongue, every time he looked at Arthur, but the words never passed his lips.
I’m in love with you, he wanted to say. But Merlin was a coward.
So when it was Arthur’s night out playing footie with their mates, Merlin just waved him off from the dining table. Said he wanted to work on some paperwork he had left for later and that he'd be useless on the field. Arthur just rolled his eyes, but kissed the top of his head as he was leaving, a duffel bag slung across his shoulder. “Remember to eat something, Merlin. You know how you get. I’ll be back late. Lance wants to ask us for opinions for an engagement ring, so he’ll probably send you pictures of some too.”
It warmed Merlin’s heart to always have Arthur’s concern. He just nodded and watched as Arthur left. He stared at his laptop with grim eyes. Think about how to tell Arthur or get some work done? It was very telling how much he wanted to avoid even thinking about talking to Arthur about his feelings, when he opened up a file and started working.
He passed the time drowning himself in emails, occasionally rising up to eat something or to reply to a text from Lancelot. The day passed by in an instant while he kept his mind occupied.
It wasn’t long until Arthur came back, wearing his change of clothes, tired but content. Must’ve had a good game then because Lancelot still hadn’t found a ring yet. Arthur set his bag down and walked over to Merlin who was sitting down on the sofa, mindlessly watching whatever was on. It was honestly to hide the fact that he was waiting for Arthur to come back home. He slept better when Arthur was near, but he would never admit that to his face. He had enough embarrassing moments.
Arthur’s hand ruffled up his hair, making him squawk and slap the offending hand away. Arthur just laughed and kissed his cheek in greeting. Merlin felt warmer than he was moments before, so he said, “Gross, you‘re a bit rank, Arthur. Take a shower before you come to bed.”
“I smell perfectly fine,” Arthur countered, but moved to take off his shirt as he walked away. Merlin just hid his grin. “And I’m only taking a shower because I want to, not because you told me to.”
“Of course,” Merlin agreed easily.
Merlin heard Arthur’s footsteps fade away, then he heard the shower running and decided it was time to get up. He cleaned around the sitting room, picking up the bags of crisps laying around and throwing them away. He shuffled back towards his own bathroom — yes, Merlin still couldn’t believe how filthy rich Arthur was to have a second bathroom in his flat just because — and did his nightly routine.
By the time he was done, Merlin had sat down on their bed (God, he even called it theirs), feeling the day weigh on him and he yawned. He waited as Arthur changed into some pants, foregoing pyjamas because that was just the way he slept. But when Arthur turned around, Merlin’s eyes snapped towards the bruise painted on his skin. He didn’t even hesitate before he grabbed the waistband of Arthur’s pants and pulled him closer, frowning at the purpling skin. He reached a hand up and brushed it. It was larger than his own palm, wrapping around Arthur’s hip and it looked like it hurt. It was probably from the football, but Merlin asked anyway, “What happened?”
“Probably during the game. It’s fine, Merlin, don’t worry. You know I’ve taken some hits before. Besides, I barely felt it.” Arthur looked down at it, surprised, like he didn’t even know it was there. Merlin couldn’t help but lean in and press a light kiss to Arthur’s bruise, loving the way Arthur’s stomach clenched slightly.
Friends didn’t do that. A friend wouldn’t let their other friend kiss their bruise away like that unless there was something else going on. Well, at least Merlin hoped there was something else underneath the surface. It really would be horrid if he was just the one pining away.
The hope in his chest wouldn’t be tamped down. Merlin murmured into golden skin, “Hurry up then. Come to bed.”
If Merlin looked a bit closer, he would’ve seen the flash of want burn in Arthur’s eyes before it softened into something adoring.
They both shuffled under the covers, Merlin on his back and Arthur finding a way to half splay out across his chest. He let one of his hands drift down the skin of Arthur’s back.
Maybe it was because he was almost about to sleep, because he said, “Arthur…”
Arthur hummed out an acknowledgment.
“I’m in love with you,” Merlin continued, still tracing long lines down Arthur’s skin. There was no pressure, no hesitation. It felt right to say it like this, under the covers in their bed, wrapped in each other’s arms.
Arthur’s head shot up to look at his, twisting his body until he was half upright on Merlin’s torso. His eyes were wild, surprised. “You better not be joking. Merlin, I swear to God if you are I’ll—”
It was natural to just lean in and place a gentle kiss on Arthur’s lips, loving the way Arthur’s little gasp sounded in his ears, the way Arthur’s responded easily. Merlin leaned back and smiled. Arthur grinned back.
“I’m not joking,” he finally answered. “You’re such a prat. I tell you I love you and you almost threaten me with, what was it again?” He smirked, feeling a little cocky. “Oh, wait, you were interrupted.”
“Shut up,” Arthur countered, pressing his lips to Merlin’s chest. Something warm unfurled in his stomach. “I love you too.”
“Yeah?”
“Yes, Merlin.” Arthur took Merlin’s free hand and squeezed softly. “Now go to sleep. We have work in the morning.”
Merlin didn’t respond, but he closed his eyes and fell asleep to the rhythmic pattern of Arthur’s breaths.