Chapter Text
“It’s amazing, you have to watch it,” Gwen gushes, setting down her pint with vigour. The beer sloshes precariously in the still nearly full glass.
Merlin chuckles. “So you have been saying. For the last two hours.”
It is no exaggeration. Arthur had been the last to arrive at the pub thanks to a late anatomy class, and by the time he dropped into his seat next to Merlin, Gwen was already in full swing. The cause of all her excitement is apparently a new Netflix show called Heartstopper.
It sounds rather cheesy to Arthur if he is completely honest. Not that he’ll ever say that out loud where Gwen can hear — he knows better than to provoke her ire. Besides, it’s not like he actually has to—
“Promise me you’ll watch it,” Gwen presses, leaning forward to grab their hands. Arthur hastily pulls his away under the pretence of taking a sip of his beer, which promptly earns him a pointed look. “Both of you.”
Damn it.
Arthur shoots a pleading glance at Leon, but receives no more than a resigned shrug in reply, which means Leon must’ve given in before Arthur even arrived. Where is Gwaine when Arthur needs him? Gwaine is one of the few people who somehow manage to say no to Gwen.
“It’s really worth it,” says Elena, wrapping her arm around Gwen’s shoulders and dropping a kiss on her temple.
“Thank you!” Gwen exclaims.
Arthur glares at Elena, who has the audacity to wink at him. She knows well enough how he feels about romance shows! What has he ever done to deserve such eagerness to see him suffer?
Before Arthur can speak up to somehow weasel out of it, Merlin replies with a sigh, “Okay, okay, we’ll watch it.”
Arthur splutters, turning his glare on Merlin. He manages to hold it for all of two seconds before he feels his resistance melt away in the face of Merlin’s wide, pleading eyes. That goddamn puppy look should be forbidden — especially for insolent flatmates who abuse its power to make Arthur agree to ridiculous things. Their kitchen is orange, for god’s sake!
“Ugh, fine,” he groans. “You owe me at least three Marvel film nights.”
“Why do I owe you anything? Gwen’s the one insisting!” Merlin protests. “I’m being forced as much as you are.”
Everyone at the table knows that is blatantly false, so Arthur doesn’t feel it necessary to call him out on it. Unlike Arthur, Merlin actually enjoys the kind of mushy soft romantic fluff that Gwen likes to recommend; this is no hardship for him — not the way it’s going to be for Arthur.
“You won’t regret it,” Gwen promises with a wide grin.
And really, how can Arthur deny her anything when she beams like her own personal sun? He drains his glass to avoid answering. Merlin being the first to give in has saved Arthur’s pride at least, no need to risk it now.
“We’ll see,” he grumbles, fighting a smile when Gwen squeals happily.
“You have to tell me all your thoughts next Friday! You’ll watch it before then, right?”
Merlin laughs. “Sure. We have nothing planned besides work.”
Arthur stifles a groan. So much for a pleasant weekend.
Arthur is slow to wake on Saturday morning. It had been past midnight when he and Merlin finally got back from the pub to their shared flat, both well-sloshed and in the mood for drunk food. Neither of them had kept an eye on the time, but if Arthur had to guess, they probably didn’t make it into their respective beds before one o’clock. At least the late-night meal prevented too bad of a hangover.
On autopilot, he grabs a fresh t-shirt along with a pair of sweats and goes to take a shower. He is brushing his teeth, refreshed and dressed, when he hears Merlin drag himself out of his room and into the kitchen. The grinding noise of the coffee machine follows a few moments later.
Once done, Arthur passes his room to drop his pyjamas on the bed before padding down the short hall into the open-plan living room, where a steaming cup of coffee is waiting on the kitchen island for him. He sits down without a word while Merlin finishes preparing his own cup. After over two years of living together, Arthur knows better than to try and talk to Merlin before coffee.
A minute of comfortable silence later, Merlin gives a satisfied sigh as he takes his first sip.
“Morning.”
“Mmh.”
Arthur bites back a fond grin. He has long since learned to decipher Merlin’s quasi-nonverbal morning communication. “Slept well?”
“M-hm.” Merlin takes another long sip of coffee. “Mh?”
“Yeah, quite alright. Impressed my head doesn’t hurt worse.”
“Mmh.”
For a few minutes, both of them stay silent as they drink their coffee. Then Arthur gets to his feet.
“Breakfast?”
“God, yes,” Merlin finally speaks, his voice still rough from sleep.
Arthur nods, opens the fridge, and begins to collect the ingredients for pancakes. He doesn’t look up from mixing the batter when Merlin trudges off into the bathroom a couple of minutes later, not worried in the slightest whether Merlin will be back in time for food. He always is.
As expected, Arthur is just finishing up the last pancakes when Merlin returns freshly showered with damp hair and flushed cheeks. With habitual ease, he steps around Arthur to get orange juice and jam from the fridge, along with plates, glasses, and cutlery from the cupboards to set the table.
In the beginning, they snapped at each other more often than not in the morning, with both of them being somewhat particular about what ticks them off so shortly after waking up. Although it had taken them a while, these days their routine is rock-solid. Arthur gets up first because he needs a shower to be functional, which wakes up Merlin, who makes coffee for them both while Arthur occupies the bathroom. They have coffee, and once Merlin is awake enough to get himself ready for the day, he goes to have his shower while Arthur makes breakfast. They eat together, then go on with their respective plans for the day.
Plans which, besides Arthur’s regular football training, amount to exactly nothing this weekend.
Training is intense but satisfying, and Arthur feels positively energised by the time he says his goodbyes to Elyan, Lancelot, and Percy. Maybe he can convince Merlin to come out on a walk, make use of the nice spring weather rather than wasting away inside.
The idea is still on Arthur’s mind when he gets back to their flat. It’d do Merlin good to get some sun and fresh air; he spends entirely too much time buried in books.
“There you are,” Merlin calls from the living room. “I was already wondering whether you decided to go out with your football lads or something.”
“We hung out on the pitch for a bit, just catching up and enjoying the sun,” Arthur replies. “You should try it sometime.”
“What, loafing around on trampled grass and getting a sunburn?” Merlin snorts. “No thanks.”
“Going outside, you off-brand Dracula,” Arthur shoots back from his room.
“Excuse you!”
Arthur laughs. “The weather really is nice, though,” he says as he returns to the living room. “And some physical activity wouldn’t hurt you either.”
“Are you saying I’m out of shape?”
“We’d just go for a walk, not a workout!”
“So you are saying I’m out of shape.”
“Merlin.”
Merlin cackles. “Well, it’ll have to wait another day. Now move your arse over here before this goddamn Sonic trailer plays again.”
For a moment, Arthur blinks at him in confusion. Then he remembers — the stupid Netflix show.
“Ugh, seriously? Today?” Arthur whines, even as he drops onto the couch next to Merlin. “It’s literally a perfect day outside, and you want to watch a show all afternoon?”
“We promised, and we both know if we don’t do it today, we won’t do it at all. Do you want to face Gwen’s eyebrow? Do you?”
Arthur does not shudder at the thought. He does not.
“That’s what I thought,” says Merlin, shoving a pack of Jammie Dodgers at Arthur. His favourite. “Here, I got us all decked out with snacks.”
It isn’t Merlin’s turn to get groceries this week. Arthur is absolutely certain because they both hate doing groceries. And yet Merlin has gone out to get Arthur’s favourite snack, just to cheer him up about a show that isn’t his favourite genre. The bloody sap. He opens his mouth to say as much, but before Arthur can respond, the trailer for Sonic the Hedgehog starts over on the TV.
“No, shut up!” Merlin cries, snatches the remote from the couch table, scrolls to Trending Now, and presses play on Heartstopper. “No more Sonic!”
Arthur capitulates with a laugh and shelves his teasing for later.
The familiar Netflix tu-dum is followed by the sound of a school bell layered over the beginning notes of a pop song. Merlin folds his legs under him and gets comfortable in his corner while Arthur opens the pack of Jammie Dodgers, ready to settle in and spend the next few hours mostly zoned out.
He never makes it that far because right there on the screen, barely a few seconds in, is fifteen-year-old Merlin. With his messy dark curls, bright blue eyes, and ridiculous ears, he is just as Arthur remembers, wearing a dark coat over his school uniform as he walks into the school building.
It isn’t actually him, of course, but the resemblance of the actor to Merlin of six years ago is so pronounced that Arthur sucks in a sharp breath. Beside him on the couch, actual Merlin’s jaw has dropped, and they share a stunned look before returning to stare at the boy on screen. Even the way he moves is reminiscent of Merlin’s school days. It is uncanny.
Arthur vaguely recalls Gwen mentioning something along those lines during her excited rambling. How the main characters remind her of Merlin and Arthur and that they would surely like them for that reason. He hadn’t expected it to be an understatement! Usually, Gwen’s gushing is mostly hyperbole!
Before either of them can fully catch themselves, Charlie Spring is heading for his desk, and there is sixteen-year-old Arthur. Or almost.
Nick Nelson isn’t as perfect of a look-alike for Arthur as Charlie is for Merlin — his hair is a little darker, his face a little rounder, and his eyes are a warm brown instead of sky blue. He looks softer than Arthur ever was.
“Hi,” Charlie says with a wide smile.
“Hi,” Nick echoes, smiling back.
The music swells, and the scene cuts to the title card: 1. Meet
The title card disappears in the blink of an eye, and for a moment, Arthur wants to press pause just to process… that. Process the fact that he and Merlin met almost exactly like that, albeit they hadn’t been half as polite to each other. But the remote is out of reach, and neither he nor Merlin move to grab it. Neither of them move at all for what feels like several minutes as the show continues.
Charlie is kissing some other boy when Arthur finally snaps out of his stupor, having missed the rest of the scene entirely.
“Well, he’s rather popular,” he drawls. “You know, considering he looks like you.”
Merlin makes an outraged noise. “Well, Nick is rather friendly considering he looks like you!”
“Looks have nothing to do with friendliness, idiot.”
“He’s still less of a prat than you,” Merlin retorts.
Arthur laughs, and some of the tension that had seized his shoulders bleeds away. The shock is wearing off into merely surprise. Because that is what it is; he’s surprised. Taken aback for a moment because, really, how could he have anticipated this?
Blowing out a breath, he settles into his seat and stretches his legs out on the couch. Maybe this won’t be so hard to focus on after all.
He watches as Charlie and Nick bump into each other repeatedly. Each time Nick offers a soft “Hi,” and Charlie gives an equally soft “Hi” in return. The fourth time brings an actual conversation, and Arthur is once again struck by how familiar their banter feels. Merlin is right, though; Arthur had been more of a prat in his school years, he can admit that by now.
The other boy, who is apparently called Ben, reappears on screen. As soon as he opens his mouth, Arthur is glad he hadn’t paid any attention to the previous scene he was in. What an arse.
When it cuts to the next segment, Merlin breaks the silence with a huff. “Gwen could’ve warned us.”
“I think she did.”
“I mean properly!”
Arthur laughs again just to tease him, even though he privately agrees. She really could’ve been a little clearer about the level of resemblance. But Gwen probably didn’t say more because this is where the similarities end anyway. So what if the actors happen to look a lot like they did in their youth?
It’s just a show.
They really have to reevaluate how much blind trust they place in Gwen.
By the time the end credits for episode one roll, Arthur is reeling, and he can tell that Merlin is similarly rattled. His head is buzzing with memories and questions to the point that he feels antsy, his heart beating just that side of too fast.
The episode opens doors in Arthur’s mind he didn’t know existed. Because Charlie doesn’t just look like Merlin; he is Merlin, albeit a little less loud and snarky. And Charlie has a crush on Nick.
Did Merlin have a crush on Arthur when they first met?
But then, Merlin may be snarkier than Charlie, sure, but he is still gentle and kind at his core. Arthur wasn’t, not back then. He was a right prat, as Merlin very helpfully informed him within ten minutes of their first meeting. Not exactly crush material.
Arthur shakes himself.
Why is he even thinking about this? Merlin is his best friend, neither of them are crush material for the other! It’s just this damn show that makes him consider ridiculous things because Nick and Charlie are so similar to them.
Not only are they eerie look-alikes for Arthur and Merlin physically, they also seem to live laughably similar lives. Like the fact that Nick plays rugby and Arthur plays football; Charlie plays the drums, Merlin the guitar. Like their social status in school, and the fact that both Charlie and Merlin were faced with bullies after coming out.
Arthur scowls at the memory of Cenred backing Merlin into a corner with a cruel grin on his face. In hindsight, Arthur should’ve done worse to him than he did. It was enough though, and in some ways that day cemented Merlin and Arthur as Merlin-and-Arthur. Nobody tried picking on Merlin again after that.
The chime of Charlie’s phone pulls Arthur out of his thoughts. He focuses back on the TV, and promptly lets out a scoff at seeing Charlie’s flimsy lie that he is fine.
Merlin shoots him a half-hearted glare, to which Arthur arches a brow in return.
They both know downplaying is another habit that Merlin shares with Charlie, and Arthur is almost proud when Charlie doesn’t insist on it in response to Nick’s follow-up. Merlin is much more stubborn with such things.
The show switches to a flashback of Ben approaching Charlie in the music room, and Arthur scowls at Ben’s fake sympathy.
“Well, you’re brave for putting up with all the negativity,” says Ben.
Charlie shrugs. “I guess so.”
The two share a look. Ben nudges their knees together, and Charlie manages a small smile.
“I’m Ben.”
“Arse,” Arthur mutters. If he had a chance to tear Ben Hope limb from limb, he would take it in a heartbeat.
Merlin snorts and nods. He seems remarkably at ease, given that the show must’ve reminded him of the past just as much as it has Arthur. Or hasn’t it?
Granted, he and Merlin weren’t half as wholesome as Nick and Charlie when they first became friends. They bonded through bickering more than anything else, continuing silly arguments between classes until they rarely left each other’s side unless their schedules demanded it.
“He’s straight, Charlie,” Tao chides, peering down at Charlie’s messages with Nick. “Like, you only need to glance at him to see that he’s a massive heterosexual. Isaac, back me up on this.”
“Ginormous heterosexual,” Isaac deadpans, barely looking up from his book.
“Exactly.” Tao nods decisively.
“Masculine guys can be gay,” Charlie argues.
“Yes, thank you,” Arthur huffs.
Merlin laughs.
“No offence, but you’re not exactly the authority on figuring out who is and isn’t gay.” Charlie turns to Isaac. “And bisexual people exist?”
Isaac merely raises his eyebrows and doesn’t reply.
Charlie deflates and turns back to Tao. “I know he’s straight. He told me.”
Arthur makes a noise of protest. “Because you assumed!”
“There, there,” Merlin says, grinning as he pats Arthur’s ankle.
“Sod off,” Arthur snipes, and reinforces the statement with a kick, just for the sake of it.
Merlin laughs again, his eyes already focused back on the screen where Charlie is asking his teacher for advice on getting over a crush on a straight boy.
Unbidden, the question Arthur had firmly put aside just minutes ago reappears in his mind; did Merlin have a crush on him when they first met? Did he talk himself out of it because he thought Arthur was straight? Arthur had certainly done his utmost to appear straight back then.
A mild sting of discomfort flickers in Arthur’s chest. For a moment, it almost feels like disappointment.
He quickly thinks better of it though. If anything, it is regret about how much of himself he had repressed for far too long. How deeply in denial he’d been. But that is in the past, and there is nothing to be disappointed about.
“Looks like Gwen and Elena have their own doppelgangers,” Merlin says, dragging Arthur’s attention back to the show.
It takes him a few seconds to catch up with the scene, then he laughs. “Sure looks like it. That’s probably why they like it so much.”
“I’ll bet,” Merlin cackles.
As Arthur watches Tara and Darcy befriend Elle, he has to admit that it is much less unsettling to see someone else’s not-quite-perfect copy compared to seeing his own. It almost feels… natural. Right, somehow.
For a while, then, Arthur finds himself comfortably captivated by the episode as they watch Charlie going over to Nick’s house, playing in the snow with Nellie the dog, and taking selfies. It’s all very wholesome, and despite the sappiness, he’s starting to see why Gwen is so obsessed with this show.
At some point, Merlin makes grabby hands towards the coffee table to have Arthur pass him the crisps, which in turn reminds Arthur of his open pack of Jammie Dodgers, and they both dig into their snacks.
His mood falters a little when Nick’s mum voices her approval of Charlie. Uther would’ve said the exact opposite about Merlin — had said the exact opposite about Merlin many times. He pushes the memory aside. Uther’s vitriol never stopped him from being friends with Merlin, so there is no reason to dwell on it.
It stopped you from other things.
The thought feels like ice, and Arthur has to suppress a shudder as he wills it away. Still, a sliver of unease clings to him while he watches Tao argue once more that Nick is definitely not interested, telling Charlie how Nick is supposedly in love with Tara.
The feeling only grows worse as Charlie’s friends keep insisting that Nick is straight, while Nick develops an increasingly obvious crush on Charlie as the episode goes on. And good god is it obvious. The smile on his face when he notices that Charlie has fallen asleep beside him during a film is nothing short of besotted.
Nick’s gaze drops from Charlie’s face down to where Charlie’s hand is lying on top of the blanket, palm up and relaxed in sleep.
A sudden surge of anticipation makes Arthur’s breath stall.
He licks his lips and shoots a quick, nervous glance at Charlie’s face, before cautiously moving his own hand to hover above Charlie’s.
Animated sparks fly from the tiny glowing space between their palms.
Arthur’s eyes widen—
After barely a second, Nick hastily pulls his hand away, crossing his arms as he heaves a tense breath, gaze trained up at the ceiling for a long moment. When he turns back to Charlie, there is nervous fear written all over his face.
Charlie is still fast asleep.
Come on, Arthur thinks, sitting up straighter without really meaning to.
Nick swallows before looking back down. Slowly, hesitantly, he lifts his hand to inch it back towards Charlie’s. Despite the tension radiating off him, he doesn’t pull away immediately this time. Instead he hovers there, flexing his fingers above Charlie’s palm as he stares at their barely separated hands with bated breath.
The sparks return with a crackle of drawn stars and lightning bolts, glowing light swelling in tune with the soft music.
Arthur’s skin crackles with those sparks, anticipation clenching his gut. A part of him is suddenly very aware of the heat of Merlin’s legs, mere millimetres from his feet.
Nick drops his hand.
“Aw,” Merlin mutters.
Arthur deflates, the tension abruptly broken.
Releasing his held breath, he sinks back into the cushions as an odd sense of relief flickers through his disappointment. He has to suppress the urge to draw up his knees, to remove his tingling feet from where they are not-quite-touching Merlin’s thigh.
Before he has a chance to properly process any of that, the show cuts to Nick shrugging on his jacket.
“You look so cuddly like that.”
Charlie glances down at himself. “Do I?”
Nick gives a soft chuckle and nods. “Yeah.”
His smile falters into something vulnerable. He continues to stare at Charlie for several seconds before his hesitance snaps. With two strides he is in Charlie’s space, wrapping his arms around him in an almost desperate hug.
That. Yeah, that—
An ache swells in Arthur’s chest, sudden and strangely familiar. At the edge of his awareness Merlin’s presence blazes like a beacon, even as he finds himself unable to look away from the screen. Away from the longing in Nick’s face.
There is an insight there, a realisation on the tip of Arthur’s tongue. But then it ends — with a hasty goodbye just as abruptly as it had started — and whatever Arthur had been about to understand slips away before he can grasp it.
He blinks a few times in an attempt to clear his head. It only partially works, and he can’t quite shake the feeling of something lingering just beyond his reach.
Arthur swallows, unsure whether he even wants to know. Perhaps he is more invested than he thought.
The second episode ends in obvious pining, with Nick grinning dopily at photos of Charlie on his phone, and Arthur does not think about how he used to scroll through Merlin’s sparse Instagram. Really, he doesn’t.
“That really is a universal gay experience, huh,” Merlin says as Nick hits enter on a Google search reading “am I gay?”
Arthur merely grunts and quickly shoves another Jammie Dodgers in his mouth to avoid a more elaborate response while the episode credits roll.
Privately though, he has to agree with Merlin. The way Nick’s happy, smitten smile morphs into a frown is all too reminiscent of how Arthur felt when he himself first began to question his sexuality. Because he remembers this — remembers the paralysing fear of what it might mean if that terrible thought turned out to be true.
Though perhaps Nick’s fear isn’t quite as paralysing as his own had been. It had taken Arthur years before he dared to actually entertain the idea consciously enough to look into anything related to it. And even once he managed that step, it stayed an excruciatingly slow process as he doubted himself at every turn, still desperate to escape a conclusion that went against everything his father had raised him to believe. It had been Merlin’s fault, really; Merlin who had slowly dismantled Uther’s prejudice ingrained in Arthur’s mind simply by existing as a gay man at Arthur’s side, in Arthur’s life. It had been Merlin who kicked loose the first stone that would roll and roll to eventually cause an avalanche.
Just like Charlie gets the first stone rolling for Nick, Arthur thinks unbidden. Except unlike himself, Nick isn’t hesitating. Nick isn’t taking years. No, he just goes for it, jumping off the deep end the way Arthur never would’ve dared.
Would Merlin have behaved differently? If someone had said to him that they don’t think Arthur is straight, maybe—
Arthur mentally cuts himself off before the rest of the thought can spell itself out. The lack of it echoes like a muffled cry in his head, and part of him is sure Merlin will hear it — that Merlin will notice, will know somehow because he is sitting right there barely a metre away and there is no way he won’t notice.
But Merlin doesn’t spare him so much as a glance, his attention fully focused on the beginning of episode three.
“Poor Nick. Look at him, he’s all upset,” he says with a pitying pout.
Falling back on old instincts, Arthur pushes his rising panic aside and replies with a steady voice, “At least he’s only reading about homophobia, rather than hearing it first-hand.”
Shit. He didn’t mean to say that.
As expected, Merlin promptly turns to frown at him. His eyes bore into Arthur’s with such intensity it seems like he can see right inside Arthur’s mind for one long, torturous moment. Then his expression softens, though the hint of a gentle smile is quickly replaced by a sarcastic sneer.
“Yes, well, we can’t all have front row seats to Uther Pendragon’s A-plus parenting.”
The quip startles a surprised laugh out of Arthur, and a tight knot of pent-up tension dissolves under his ribs.
“A true privilege,” he shoots back, making Merlin snort. The familiarity of the exchange feels like returning to solid ground, which gives Arthur a chance to regain his bearings and somewhat calm the frantic whir at the back of his mind.
“He gives me Val vibes,” Merlin says after a minute, raising his chin to point at a sleazy boy speaking to Nick outside the school gate.
Arthur grimaces, which is all the agreement Merlin needs, judging by his laughter. Not that he’s wrong, Arthur quite agrees with Merlin’s assertion; Val is exactly that sort of spoiled brat, flaunting his money as if it is a royal title that makes him better than everyone else. Even the boy’s quasi-order that Nick should bring “cool people” along to his — clearly outrageously lavish — birthday party that weekend could just as likely have come from Val’s mouth.
Rich twat.
Arthur can’t help rolling his eyes when Imogen promptly appears at Nick’s side like a moth drawn to flame, vying for an invitation to Rich Twat’s party. His amusement falters mere moments later.
“What— Why would you actually invite her?” he protests, gesturing at the TV where little hearts pop up around Imogen’s head. “She’s crushing on you, you twit, don’t encourage her!”
“Bold of you to assume he notices that,” Merlin chortles.
Arthur shoots him a glare, gesturing at the TV again. Because honestly, Imogen could hardly be any more obvious, all flustered and delighted and suddenly shy as if she doesn’t expect Nick to actually invite her. And yet Nick seems oblivious.
“Still, he was pining over Charlie not two minutes ago, why would he invite someone else now?” Arthur insists a little petulantly.
Merlin shrugs. “They’re friends, he probably didn’t even think about it in that way. Don’t pretend you would’ve been any smarter, you were just as slow on the uptake back in school, if not worse.”
“Bullshit,” Arthur begins, then pauses to catch the locker room chatter between the other rugby teammates.
“And Nick is gonna have his pick of two girls,” drawls Rich Twat.
“Who’s the other girl?”
“Imogen, obviously. Everybody knows she fancies him.”
Arthur flings his arm out towards the TV with an indignant, wordless shout, because he may have been clueless but he was never that thick. Not even at sixteen years old.
Merlin, however, promptly mimics Arthur’s gesture of pointing at the TV along with shooting Arthur an exaggeratedly meaningful look, complete with high-raised brows and comically wide eyes, as though Nick’s feeble protests prove his point.
“If you’re not into Imogen, then Saturday night’s your chance with Tara,” Rich Twat leers. “That’s all I’m saying.”
Charlie frowns at the ground as the other boys cheer and whistle, before chancing a hesitant look over at Nick who falters under the attention.
“Yeah. Maybe.”
“Oh come on!” Arthur exclaims with an exasperated groan. Charlie’s subdued expression brings back that persistent sense of unease in his gut. It’s impossible to ignore even as he reflexively leans into the safe, controllable feeling of annoyance at Nick’s reluctance to assert himself properly.
Merlin hums and absently pats Arthur’s ankle the same way he has countless times before. A small gesture, deeply familiar through years of habit, to placate and appease without words — except now Arthur’s skin blazes beneath Merlin’s palm, and there is absolutely nothing familiar about it. The touch, though gentle as ever, shoots through Arthur like a charged current.
And then it’s over, Merlin’s hand back in his own lap, and all that remains is a faint echo of electric heat tingling across Arthur’s skin. Somehow Arthur manages not to move, while also resolutely refusing to think about why it’s so important that he doesn’t. Instead, he stays put as he echoes Merlin’s approval of Nick asking Charlie to come to the party.
Seeing Charlie’s excitement about the invitation, he can’t help but wonder how Merlin feels. How he felt back in their school days when Arthur was invited to party after party. Of course he brought Merlin along more often than not, but it never felt as significant as this. Could it have?
Too late now.
“Tao and Elle are so gonna be a thing,” says Merlin.
Arthur forces the bitter thought aside and makes an assenting noise as he focuses back on the show, where Charlie arrives at the venue. Things seem to be going well, until Rich Twat — whose name is apparently Harry — crops up again far too soon to force Nick into a conversation with Tara.
The obvious dismay on Charlie’s face sparks sharp anger in Arthur’s gut. How hard can it be to tell the stupid twat ”No”? It’s not like Nick would have to proclaim himself gay to tell Harry that he’s hanging out with his friend and to leave them alone.
“I don’t really feel that way…” Nick stammers.
“Nick, it’s fine,” Tara laughs. “I don’t feel that way about you either.”
Nick’s relief is palpable. “Yeah.”
Tara sighs. “All of this could have been avoided if I just…”
“What?”
“Told everyone I’m a lesbian.”
“Well, yeah, but um—” Nick furrows his brows. “I guess that’s not something you’d really wanna lie about.”
“Wouldn’t be a lie,” Tara replies with a shrug.
“Aww, good for you, Not-Gwen!” Merlin cheers, and Arthur has to smile despite the sting of envy in his chest. Good for her, yeah, to be able to just say that so easily.
“Her name is Tara.”
Merlin flicks a crisp at him. “I know that, you prat.”
Arthur bats it away with an outraged huff and raises a warning finger. “Don’t start.”
Merlin grins.
“Merlin.” Arthur sits up straighter, pulling his legs up and away from him. The distance is a cold relief.
“I’m not doing anything!” Merlin protests, blue eyes sparkling with mischief. He laughs at Arthur’s narrowed eyes and repeats, “I’m not doing anything, now stop glaring.”
He turns back to the TV, traces of his grin still lingering on his lips.
Arthur watches him with a healthy dose of suspicion for another moment before doing the same. Of course, Charlie has disappeared in the meantime, but Arthur is delighted to see that Nick actually tells Rich Twat to shove it this time and goes looking for Charlie. As he should.
If it were Arthur, he would never let Merlin fend for himself at a party like that. Even now, the rare times they go out to an actual club, he always makes sure to keep Merlin in his sight, just in case he manages to magically attract trouble of some kind. As such, Arthur isn’t exactly surprised when Charlie bumps into Ben, even as the mild worry in his stomach flares with nerves.
“No, don’t play his games!” Merlin protests.
Arthur grunts his agreement, silently cursing Nick. It takes Charlie shoving Ben into a wall and telling him to piss off before he can breathe easy again, but the relief quickly turns sour when Imogen throws herself at a visibly uncomfortable Nick on the dance floor.
“How obtuse can you be,” Arthur grumbles, irritated.
“Him or her?” Merlin asks with a teasing grin.
Either. Both.
Arthur only shrugs, glad when Nick leaves Imogen behind rather quickly. His mood lifts as they watch Tara and Darcy kiss under rainbow lighting, radiating so much joy it makes Arthur’s throat grow tight. On screen, Nick watches them too, standing there utterly transfixed and wearing an expression of pure wonder. It’s an achingly reminiscent emotion, that almost disbelieving wonder at the mere idea of queer couples experiencing happiness.
At last, Nick spots Charlie again, and Arthur can’t keep himself from rolling his eyes at how helpless and confused Nick seems about Charlie having left. He has the slightest bit more sympathy for Nick’s dismay upon hearing about Charlie’s run-in with Ben, but can’t help but feel a little smug for knowing Cenred never got another chance to go near Merlin after Arthur intervened the first time. Not that it’s really the same, but still.
“I’m so proud!” Nick squeezes Charlie’s hand, and doesn’t let go of it again.
Charlie stares down at their linked hands, then at Nick, a bemused smile tugging at the corners of his lips.
Unbidden, Arthur’s eyes flick over to Merlin, whose attention is in turn wholly on the show, eyes glittering with excitement. Ignoring the hitch in his breath, Arthur hastily looks away.
“It’s kinda noisy in here, isn’t it?” Nick says, looking out into the crowd with a slight frown.
Charlie follows his gaze, and the wheels are visibly turning inside his head. He looks back at Nick with a smile and nods. “Yeah.”
“Shall we go somewhere quieter again?”
Charlie’s smile widens a bit as he scans Nick’s face. His reply is a little breathless. “Okay?”
Arthur’s heartbeat has kicked up several notches all of a sudden. There’s a nervous buzz in his stomach, a premonition of something momentous.
Nick rises to his feet, still without letting go of Charlie’s hand. “Come on.”
He tugs Charlie through the crowd until they reach the door leading to the staircase, then turns back to ask, “You want to race?”
“Oh, you want to race me?”
“No, no, no—”
Charlie laughs, and takes off, sprinting up the stairs. “Come on!”
For some reason, Arthur feels as breathless as Nick is after running up several flights of stairs in pursuit of Charlie. Why can’t he breathe? He doesn’t dare to glance over at Merlin again, suddenly terrified of… He’s not entirely sure of what.
He’s so preoccupied by the sudden fear squeezing his lungs, he hardly registers the mildly mocking remarks about Rich Twat renting out an entire hotel for a birthday party. Hardly registers Nick sitting down beneath a window, or Charlie settling down beside him. And then Charlie speaks, and Arthur’s attention is yanked brutally back to the show.
“So… was Harry being serious? Do you like Tara?”
Impossibly, given how fast Arthur’s heart is already hammering, his heart rate doubles.
“What? No! No, definitely not!” Nick shakes his head vehemently.
Charlie’s lips quirk into a fleeting smile, and he releases a quiet, tense sigh. “Uh…” He hesitates, and Nick shifts anxiously.
“So,” Charlie continues, looking back over at Nick, “you don’t have a crush on anyone at the moment?”
Arthur holds his breath, hoping his inner turmoil isn’t obvious on his face. He’s transfixed, unable to look away for so much as a second. At the back of his mind, a rather frantic part of him keeps wondering what Merlin is thinking.
Nick drops his gaze into his lap, a mild furrow appearing between his brows. “Well… I didn’t say that,” he replies, meeting Charlie’s eyes again.
Charlie’s eyes widen, then his face falls a little. A few seconds of tense silence tick by, then Charlie asks, “What’s she like then?”
“You’re just going to assume they’re a ‘she’?” Nick says. His smile is nervous.
Charlie gapes at him. He stammers a little as he asks, “Are they… Are they not a girl?”
Say yes! Arthur wants to scream. But Nick averts his gaze once more and only manages a shaky “Um…” in response. Arthur can’t even blame him, he’s terrified just watching it happen. If Merlin had started this conversation with him when they were in school, Arthur probably wouldn’t even have admitted that he had a crush at all, let alone that it wasn’t on a girl.
It takes Charlie a moment to gather his courage. “Would you go out with someone who wasn’t a girl?”
“I don’t know.” Nick pauses. Frowns. “Maybe.”
Charlie exhales a shaky breath. He doesn’t look at Nick. Slowly, he shifts his foot just a little closer. Places his hand flat on the floor between them, next to Nick’s. Not touching, but only just.
He’s visibly nervous when he raises his gaze towards Nick again. “Would you kiss someone who wasn’t a girl?”
Arthur’s heart thunders in his ears.
“I don’t know.” Nick looks troubled as he says it. Afraid.
Somehow, it’s enough for Charlie to stay brave. To slide his hand that last little bit closer, until their pinkies are close enough to touch.
Tiny animated sparks spring from the point of contact.
Nick is visibly overwhelmed, but he meets Charlie’s hopeful gaze regardless.
Charlie asks, “Would you kiss me?”
All at once, Charlie is Merlin, and it’s Merlin who’s asking, and— It hits Arthur like lightning.
Nick doesn’t reply immediately, but he hooks his little finger more firmly under Charlie’s. Finally, they meet each other’s eyes again, and he nods.
“Yeah.”
It’s Charlie who closes most of the distance, moving slowly as if to give Nick time to change his mind. He doesn’t. The kiss is hesitant, no more than a cautious meeting of lips.
Merlin lets out a whooping cheer, startling Arthur into looking over despite his best efforts. His breath catches at the sight.
Merlin’s cheeks are flushed pink, his lower lip caught between his teeth as he intently keeps his eyes on the TV.
They kiss once. Twice. Then they both pull away, eyes fluttering open to stare at each other, stunned.
Neither of them says a word as they shift back to their original positions, averting equally insecure eyes.
Arthur forces himself to breathe. It’s more difficult than it should be, and he settles for breathing quietly instead of deeply. Is his face hotter than usual? His heart feels like it might beat out of his chest any moment.
After a few moments of charged, anticipatory silence, Nick takes Charlie’s hand. Their eyes meet.
There is far less hesitation this time. Charlie wraps his free hand around the side of Nick’s neck, while Nick pulls Charlie closer by his shoulder.
Hand-drawn flowers swirl around them as they kiss languidly for long moments, the music building to a proper melody.
It carries Arthur with it as he stares, mesmerised. He registers nothing else, not even Merlin’s reaction, even though the part of him that always thinks about Merlin is begging him to please see whether Merlin is reacting to this as strongly as he is.
Because it’s them. It’s not really them, but it is to Arthur. It’s Nick and Charlie, but all Arthur sees is him and Merlin. All at once, nothing has ever felt so right as this. Except this isn’t real. It isn’t truly them — somehow, they have missed their mark.
It should be them. He wants it to be them. The acknowledgement of how much he wants this is like the final piece of a puzzle clicking into place, and realisation hits.
Fuck.
He is in love with Merlin.
Finally the music crests, and ebbs away as the kiss comes to a gentle end.
They linger close for a moment, just breathing.
“You okay?” Charlie asks, a tiny smile lifting the corners of his lips.
No, Arthur isn’t okay. He’s the opposite of okay; he’s in love with Merlin!
“I…” Nick begins.
Before he can find his words Harry’s voice sounds from the hallway. “Nick, are you up there? I just want to talk, mate.”
The interruption shakes Arthur out of his panicked paralysis as much as it startles Nick and Charlie out of their bliss. He seizes his chance and does what he does best: he shoves his feelings down, banishes them to the deep confines of his mind, and forces his attention towards the first available alternative.
Nick scrambles to his feet. Charlie watches him move away with wide eyes.
“Why are you hiding?” Harry calls from outside, sounding impatient.
“No!” The word slips out before Arthur can catch himself. He resolutely ignores Merlin’s eyes on him, keeping his glare firmly directed at the screen. Don’t, he thinks, both a warning and a plea — as if Nick might hear him and listen. As if he himself might. Don’t fuck this up.
For a moment, Nick hesitates, looking down at Charlie.
Then, without a word, he turns and leaves.
Leaves Charlie sitting on the floor beneath a window in an empty room. Alone.
“Idiot,” Arthur snarls as searing anger floods him, and he has to bite the inside of his cheek to keep himself from spewing any more curses. He seethes through Nick’s stilted conversation with Rich Twat, wishing he could reach into the TV to punch the brat himself.
When Nick walks back to the room, Arthur already knows what he will find, and he’s proven right mere seconds later. Somehow, seeing the dismay on Nick’s face makes it worse. This is Nick’s own fault!
If Arthur were given such a chance, he would never throw it away like that. Fuck.
The scene cuts abruptly to Charlie shutting the door of his father’s car.
“Hey. Hey you okay?” Charlie’s dad asks.
Charlie gives no reply, merely a minute shake of his head. For a moment he struggles with himself, then his laboured breaths turn to quiet sobs.
His dad pulls him into a hug, murmuring comforting words as Charlie cries into his shoulder.
A pang of sorrow pierces Arthur’s fury, and it drains away like water vanishing into cracked desert earth. Reflexively, he swings his gaze to Merlin, almost expecting him to be crying too.
There are no tears on Merlin’s face. But where his posture was open and relaxed only minutes ago, he now has his arms wrapped tightly around his torso, his knees pulled up close rather than stretched out in front of himself. His forehead is etched with a deep crease between furrowed brows, and the tension in his jaw matches the way he presses his lips into a firm line.
Arthur wants to say something, only he has no idea what. An apology? No, what would he even apologise for? Arthur isn’t Nick, he hasn’t done anything. Some expression of sympathy? Also no, because just like Arthur isn’t Nick, Merlin isn’t Charlie.
Anything he can think of sounds wrong. Worse, anything he can think of makes it painfully obvious that he’s been thinking about them as Nick and Charlie. What if Merlin hasn’t? What if Arthur is the only one having terrible, terrible realisations here?
He says nothing. It aches, but he swallows it.
Charlie mentally replays asking Nick if he would kiss him, but Nick says no. A knock on the door startles him out of the daymare and he continues to brush his teeth.
“Charlie! Can you get the door please?” Charlie’s mother calls from off-screen. “It’s probably the postman.”
“Fine, one sec!” Charlie spits out the toothpaste and rinses his toothbrush, then hurries down the stairs. He opens the door and freezes.
Outside in the pouring rain, breathing heavily as if he’s been running, stands Nick.
“Yes!” Arthur hisses, at the same time as Merlin exclaims the same thing. They look at each other, startled, and Arthur promptly feels his face heat. He quickly looks away, vaguely noting Merlin to do the same out of the corner of his eye.
His heart keeps racing as the credits for episode three roll through.