Chapter Text
They have coffee sometimes.
Mordred sees him across the room and wishes that he was brave enough to go over, to introduce himself but he never does. But in his mind the two of them sit there and laugh together, in his mind they have coffee together.
Sometimes he comes in with others; a pretty dark skinned girl that he spends the entire time laughing with; a striking dark haired woman who he has serious intense conversations with; a group of friendly laughing guys who make jokes loud enough for everyone to hear; or worst of all a handsome blonde man who Mordred is sure he’s in love with. Part of him says that it would be so easy to go up and introduce himself to any one of his friends, that that way he could find himself gradually closer to the man of his dreams. But he never does, he doesn’t have the bravery for that.
But the worst part is when he’s not there at all and Mordred stays way too long just in case he’s running late. He knows they’re impossible but just catching a single glimpse of him makes the day so much brighter.
It’s the beginning of November when he’s approached. The dark haired woman who has always scared him more than any of the other coffee shop regulars with her intensity doesn’t even ask before she slides into the seat opposite him.
“You’re either staring at me or at Merlin, which one?”
Mordred just stares at her for a moment, unsure of how exactly to respond. And it’s only because she continues to stare expectantly at him that he manages to choke out, “Merlin?” It’s the first time he’s heard his name and yet it fits so instantly that he feels as if he must have always known his name somehow.
The woman smiles and it transforms her face from someone terrifying to someone who seems welcoming somehow. “Excellent, because I would have felt bad telling you that little puppy dogs aren’t exactly my type. Morgana, by the way.” And with that she offers him a hand to shake.
“Mordred,” he manages to offer back with a small still worried smile as he takes her hand.
“So Mordred when are you going to talk to him? I’ve seen you staring for two months now and as adorable as it is Merlin’s too obvious to notice that sort of thing, especially as he’s still moping over my very heterosexual half-brother, so I’d suggest you making the first move. You’re what? Twenty? I’m sure you’ve at least tried hitting on guys before.”
Mordred shook his head, “I’m eighteen and no.”
If anything this seemed to make Morgana more gleeful, “oh wow you really are a puppy aren’t you? It’s not hard really, just go over and say hi next time he’s here alone okay. And if you don’t, well let’s just say you’ll regret it.” And with another scarily charming smile she just got up and left the café.
Mordred just stared at the door for a while, he wasn’t entirely certain what had just happened but he was pretty sure that somewhere along the way he’d got permission to go after the guy he’d been lusting after for months. But he didn’t wait for him to turn up that day.
He still didn’t approach him, oh he thought about it more often but he still couldn’t find the bravery to get up and go over. Each week Morgana would come by his table and make the same threats to him, she even talked him into giving her his number somehow so that she could threaten him more effectively. So sometimes as he watched Merlin and Morgana debate earnestly over their coffee he would receive a text telling him to come over, he always ignored it.
Soon enough it was December and term was almost over. Mordred wasn’t sure how he was supposed to survive over Christmas without seeing Merlin every day; three whole weeks without seeing his face seemed like a lifetime. And the texts from Morgana were getting more threatening, when she promised a proper photo if he went and talked to Merlin he thought that he might die from desperate happiness – and yet he still couldn’t go over.
He began to consider telling his parents that he couldn’t come home because he had too much work to do and yet he knew that they wouldn’t believe him. Anyway Merlin probably had somewhere else to be at Christmas too, he probably had family to go to too.
And then one day Merlin entered the café with red eyes, bundled up against the icy chill outside but the red eyes clearly weren’t from that. Mordred assumed that someone was coming, that Morgana or one of the others would follow in a few minutes ready to comfort him and yet after fifteen minutes he still sat there alone sipping blank eyed the drink clasped in his hands.
The idea of texting Morgana never somehow entered his head; instead as Merlin placed the empty mug on his table (at least Mordred assumed it was empty), he quickly ordered two drinks and headed straight for Merlin.
“Hi, is it okay if I sit here?” His heart was beating so fast that he was certain he was going to spill both drinks all over himself if he held them much longer.
Merlin just gave him a noncommittal shrug. It wasn’t until he had sat down that he actually spoke, “I’ll leave when your friend gets here.”
“Oh, no. it’s for you,” he managed to choke out as he pushed one of the mugs over to him with a nervous smile. “You looked as if you needed some hot chocolate.” He still couldn’t quite believe his own daring, that he was actually sitting directly opposite Merlin. “But if you don’t like it that’s fine, I just thought that maybe you might want some.”
Merlin looked at him in quiet surprise and confusion, “no, thanks. I like hot chocolate.”
Silence reigned for a few minutes, the only thought in Mordred’s head was blind panic now his brief moment of bravado had disappeared and been replaced with the completely surety that Merlin must think him mad.
“Merlin.”
For a moment he almost says I know before he remembers and knows that that’s the wrong answer. “Mordred.”
“You’re here a lot too aren’t you?” it’s not a question he expects an answer to; it seems like more of a statement. “It’s nice to know your name rather than as the cute boy in the corner.”
The word cute roars triumphant in his chest and although he’d rather be known as hot or sexy he’s so grateful that Merlin thinks he’s cute, and a genuinely happy smile bursts out of his lips without hesitation. “I kept on meaning to say hello but you always had… friends.”
He’s grateful too that Merlin doesn’t correct him there and remind him of all the time he’d sat there alone because he has no answer he’s willing to share of why he didn’t approach him then.
They sit in silence then, Mordred careful not to stare for too long and yet completely unable not to take in all the details he’d missed while he’d stared from afar. He doesn’t mean to but it happens anyway because Merlin is so much more beautiful close up and red eyed than he could have ever imagined in all those months of waiting.
And then Merlin stands, another empty cup on the table. “It was nice to meet you Mordred,” he tells him with a weak smile, “thanks for the hot chocolate.”
He makes no promises of future conversations before he leaves and Mordred feels like crying. But when he receives a text a few hours later from Morgana, score one for the puppy, he laughs and cries all at once because if he didn’t tell her that means that Merlin did, and that means hope.