Les Lettres Défi

Merlin is Arthur's new secretary and is oddly appealing. Also, just to complicate things, eccentric Uther has introduced a penpal scheme within the office to promote team unity, and despite initially being at blows, Arthur and his anonymous penpal are getting on extremely well. Somehow Arthur has to balance his physical attraction to Merlin, and his emotional attraction to his penpal... While baking some exceptional puddings, because lemon drizzle cake is nice.

Notes:

Written for Paperlegends Big Bang 2012, finally getting round to cross-posting it here.
Original masterpost is here.
The wonderful Isa's artwork for the fic is here.

Work Text:

It started with a seemingly innocent email, causing Arthur Charles Pendragon to storm into his father's office far too early for anyones liking one Monday morning.

"Have you actually gone mental? I don't mean to be rude, but seriously, have you finally succumbed to the mid-life crisis we all knew was inevitable?"

Uther Pendragon smiled benignly and gestured vaguely towards the seat the other side of his desk with a coffee sat in front of it, as if he'd expected his son to come storming into the room with a scowl on his face at that precise moment. Which, Arthur reflected, he probably had - eccentric, all-knowing man that he was. Arthur sat in the chair that felt more like it was made for a living room as opposed to an office and took a sip of the coffee - which was, of course, the perfect temperature. He took a deep breath and tried to remind himself that the man in front of him was a ruthless, omnipotent, possibly evil business tycoon, not the pleasantly baffled, benevolent and positively twinkly old man he currently appeared to be.

Sometimes Arthur wondered if his father did everything he could to disorientate the people that came into his office to the extent that he could defeat them on whatever they'd come in to argue about, give them a cup of tea and a biscuit, and have them leave of their own volition without them realising that the argument in question had even been brought up, let alone lost. Definitely evil.

"Father," he began, "what on God's green earth is this all about?" With this he thrust a printout of an email across the desk, and rolled his eyes as Uther pretended to read it,

From: [email protected]
To: All Staff
Subject: Unity!

I'm sure it has escaped no one's attention that this company is riddled with gossip, rumour and backstabbing, and while we encourage healthy competition, losing one's job over it is not healthy: this has gone far enough.

As such, I am introducing a new initiative designed to promote bonding and partnership within the workplace. By the end of today, I expect you all to have followed the link at the bottom of this email and registered under a nickname of your choice. By tomorrow morning, you will have been paired up at random, and are required to be in contact with your in-office 'penpal' at least once a day unless under mitigating circumstances which I myself must approve - no one is exempt. You must also remain anonymous to the person with whom you are in contact.

Talk about your interests, hobbies, lives, or simply work. Become friends and learn to trust one another.

There is to be no abuse of this scheme or of each other via this scheme; I will know, and it will not be tolerated.

If you have any questions, please feel free to contact my office.

Enjoy,

U. Pendragon

Uther sighed and closed his eyes before speaking.

"You can't have ignored what's going on. Yes, as a company we're doing well financially, but that shouldn't be at the cost of people's wellbeing. The bitching, the lying... I don't know what's gone wrong with my company, it's like none of them have realised they're not in high school anymore for goodness sake. And when office politics reach front page news, something must be done. Your own secretary quit last week - how's that new boy doing, by the way?"

"Oh, er, fine I guess, learning the ropes"

"You guess? In my day we'd take the new kid out for lunch, get to know them, help them settle in. I'm sure you can't even tell me his name."

Arthur paused, annoyed and wishing not for the first time that his ability to remember numbers and figures after the most brief of glances translated to people's names.

"That's entirely besides the point. I've been busy since he started, you know perfectly well the deadlines we've got coming up if we want to make this merger. I just don't have time for all this touchy feely penpal bullshit!"

"Make time." And with those two words, Uther spoke with a finality that left Arthur in the knowledge that the conversation was, in no uncertain terms, over.

Within half an hour of the conversation, Arthur found himself chain-drinking tea and on the phone to his best friend, Lance, who worked on the floor below. Having resigned themselves to the idea - only due to the knowledge that there was no way out of it - they were now debating the next most important thing: choice of nickname.

"I don't know why you're getting so worked up about it" Arthur grumbled around a chocolate biscuit. "It's just a stupid nickname for a stupid thing that'll probably only last a week."

"Come on mate, get into the spirit of it! Gotta make the right impression, after all, I could get partnered with Gwen. Or you could get partnered with that guy you had your eye on, what was his name, Eric? Edward?"

"Edwin. Ugh, no thank you. Did you see his teeth? Bad oral hygiene is always a turn off. You do know you could always just speak to Gwen, has she even noticed you exist yet?"

"Stop deflecting, you wanker. Now, I'm thinking of using 'Chevalier du lac' for mine..."

"Why?"

"Oh you know, as a nod to medieval tales of adventure and heroism. And it's in French, which will make me sound more interesting."

"Jeez Lance, could you really get any more pretentious?" He spluttered, before instantly regretting it as he tried to wipe soggy biscuit off the ridiculously important spreadsheets he had laid out in front of him ready for that afternoon's meeting. He made a brief mental note never to eat around important bits of paper, then recalled the amount of times he'd decided that in the past, and the amount of times he'd ignored it completely. The latter number greatly outweighed the former.

"I could actually, you don't want to hear some of my other ideas. That was the subtle, toned down one."

"Seriously now, I don't think you should be allowed to be in contact with normal human beings. I might just hang up."

"You were the one who rang me, I can't help it if you can't get through the day without hearing my beautiful voice. And I can't let you go til you've got a wonderful and ingenious nickname. So I guess you'd better leave it to me!"

"Well how about I pinch your idea, if you're such a genius, and go with Mort. Then if anyone asks I can just tell them I'm an avid Terry Pratchett fan."

"But what if they read Pratchett, and start quizzing you on the books?"

"Really? That's your only problem with this plan?"

Arthur snorted, then quickly wrapped up the conversation, having noticed the time. Not, however, before arranging where and when to meet for lunch - the canteen. Again. So that Gwen could be ogled. Again. Gwen was the sweet brunette who worked in the canteen and regularly brought hot drinks and snacks up to the upper offices of the building, and over the course of the last month or so Lance had fallen deeper and deeper in love with her - having, of course, never exchanged so much as the slightest word with her. Arthur often wondered whether or not he really wanted to spend his lunch break listening for the thousandth time to Gwen's one-man fanclub waxing lyrical on her many perfect features, but then he remembered how funny it was to rip the shit into Lance and his unrequited passions, despite the fact that - now Edwin was most definitely off the cards - Arthur had no one to ogle whilst doing so.

From: [email protected]
To: [email protected]
Subject: Your Correspondent

Dear Mort,

Thank you for registering promptly to the scheme and choosing a suitable nickname.

You have been partnered with: Dewin.

Please be in touch with them by the end of the day.

Many thanks,

Admin.

From: [email protected]
To: [email protected]
Subject: Hi

Hey Dewin, I'm Mort. Well, that's my nickname for this, anyway.

So, seeing as we don't have a choice about doing this stupid thing I suppose I'd better tell you that I'm male, I work here (obviously...), I'm between the ages of 25 and 35 (doesn't narrow it down so much in this office), and I really don't enjoy participating in enforced team-bonding projects just because the boss has gone a bit loopy in his old age. I don't even know what he was thinking of.

Yours,

Mort.

From: [email protected]
To: [email protected]
Subject: Do you enjoy being a Prat?

Hi Mort, I'm Dewin.

I'm also male and within that age range, but I personally reckon that when the boss came up with this, he was thinking of the similar projects that have been used to great effect in highly powered, successful offices across the globe. He may also have been thinking of the psychological effects of positive anonymity - namely that if one befriends someone who is anonymous, one will automatically be friendlier and kinder to the wider group (in this case the office) in case they encounter their new friend without knowing. So if anything, I'd say he's getting smarter, not loopier.

Dewin

From: [email protected]
To: [email protected]
Subject: Alright, suck-up

Dewin-

I see I spoke ill of the boss to the wrong person, big fan, are we?

Mort

From: [email protected]
To: [email protected]
Subject: Never quite escaped high school, did you...

Mort-

Not a big fan of Uther, just a big fan of knowing your facts before you slag something off. Does tend to help arguments stand up to questioning, if you ask me. Just a quick pointer for the future, there.

Dewin

From: [email protected]
To: [email protected]
Subject: Get fucked

*This message has been censored due to an inappropriate subject line*

From: [email protected]
To: [email protected]
Subject: Mature.

Really, I'm so impressed.

From: [email protected]
To: [email protected]
Subject: Ok, I'm sorry.

You just pushed my buttons, alright?

I'm under a lot of stress with work at the moment, I've got a couple of big deadlines coming up, and I just don't have the time to be fooling around with this.

I suggest we just stick to the required one email a day so we don't bother each other and can get on with our work.

From: [email protected]
To: [email protected]
Subject: Fine by me

But can I just say, if you're letting work get in the way of your personal life to the extent where you don't have the time to merely email someone, perhaps it's time to re-assess your priorities.

"Argh, he just seems like a twat! Where does he get off, speaking to me like that?"

"Arthur, calm the hell down. It's only the first day, you can't have emailed him more than a few times, how have you managed to take such a dislike to him already?"

Arthur proceeded to tell Lance via speakerphone precisely what had been said in each email as he kneaded bread dough at the breakfast bar of his kitchen. When questioned about his baking habits, he was very vocal even to his close friends about how plebeian it was to buy sliced bread when it was easier, tastier and more satisfactory to make one's own, but in fact he loved the way it felt in his hands, the simple satisfaction of making something from scratch, and the warm homely smell that filled his flat.

"To be honest, it kinda sounds like he hit the nail on the head there."

"What do you mean?"

"When was the last time I saw you outside of work?"

"Oh I don't know, we went to that new restaurant just the other day."

"That was last month."

"What's your point?"

"My point is that I'm your best friend - if you can't find the time to see me outside of work then you're spending too much time at work. I would bet money that you're currently making... Let's see, it's Tuesday, so making either bread or fruit scones, crunching numbers from today's paperwork in your head, and talking to me on speakerphone. You need to chill the fuck out, man! Take some time to hang out and not be doing five things at once!"

Arthur paused in his mental calculations and kneading to wonder if his friend had a point. Then he remembered that he hadn't carried the 2 and that's where the extra figures were coming from, and carried on.

"Fine, I'll come out for drinks on Friday, would that make you happy?"

"Only if you're buying the rounds!" Lance laughed. "And stop being so pissy that someone who wasn't me or Morgana called you on your bullshit. Give the guy a chance, it might be good for you."

"Fine, whatever. Oh and Lance, remind me to invite that new secretary guy out with us for drinks, Father was taking the piss because I'd temporarily forgotten his name. What is his name, by the way?"

"How could you forget? His name's Merlin."

From: [email protected]
To: [email protected]
Subject: Start over?

Ok, so I may have been unnecessarily rude yesterday. My friend thinks I got cross because you disagreed with me, I maintain it was because you were rude about it.

Regardless, you may have had a point, so can I suggest that we ignore yesterday and start over?

I'm Mort. I enjoy baking, I focus too much on work, and I have to eat boxes of Celebrations in the right order.

From: [email protected]
To: [email protected]
Subject: Well since you admitted you were a clotpole about it...

Fine.

I'm Dewin. My friends tell me I have an unhealthy obsession with Lord of the Rings, I drink too much tea, and Fry's Peppermint Creams are the best chocolate bars in the universe.

There's a right order to eat Celebrations??

From: [email protected]
To: [email protected]
Subject: Clotpole??

Of course there's a right order to eat Celebrations. The malteasers ones are the best, followed by: Caramel, Twix, Galaxy, Mars, Milky Way. So you eat them in the opposite order, saving the best til last. And obviously no one eats Snickers or Bounty, because they're disgusting.

Is there such thing as too much tea??

I enjoy Buffy the Vampire Slayer more than I probably should (I entirely blame David Boreanaz and James Marsters), I don't do as much sport as I'd like, and I like red wine.

From: [email protected]
To: [email protected]
Subject: It's a valid word. Hush.

It's possible you're slightly OCD about chocolates. And the Bounty ones are the best.

Other people seem to think you can have too much tea, but I disagree!

When it comes to Buffy, I think you're underestimating the fantastic-ness of Seth Green. What sports do you do?

My favourite teas are Assam, Kenyan and Russian Caravan, I only dunk biscuits if they're dark chocolate digestives, and I finish work in 10 minutes! So good night, speak to you tomorrow.

--------------------------

A loud alarm woke Merlin at the ungodly hour of 7am on Thursday morning, and he thrust his arm towards his bedside table in hopes of hitting the snooze button on his clock, before recalling that the snooze button is bad for his ability to get to work on time and as such he had moved his alarm clock to the opposite side of the room the previous night.

Grumbling about early mornings, how he's too genius for his own good, and why can't he be back at university where no one cared whether he actually turned up or not, he dragged himself across the room to turn his alarm clock off, changed the playlist on his ipod from his nighttime audiobook to 'Morning shower WAKE UP music', turned the volume up high and forced himself into the shower.

He sang loudly and out of tune to Flogging Molly as the powerful shower slowly attacked his body into wakefulness, suppressing the urge to do a little dance as the song got more upbeat. Feeling clean and a bit more refreshed, he left the shower, towelled himself dry quickly to avoid the cold of the bathroom, and walked, stark naked, into the kitchen to put the kettle on, knowing the quicker he had a cup of tea in his hand the better. As it boiled he went back into his room and threw on the nearest smart clothes, vowing (as he did most mornings) that he would actually make the effort tomorrow.

After his cup of tea (strong, not too milky, one and a half sugars) and a couple of slices of toast (liberally doused with butter and honey), he made sure he had everything he needed in the messenger bag slung carelessly over his shoulder, triple checked that his phone was in his pocket where it belonged, had a five minute 'where-are-my-keys-dammit-I'm-sure-I-put-them-down-here-somewhere' panic, and left the flat. His flat was one half of a cheap but nice house in the outskirts of the city which was a 45 minute walk, 30 minute cycle or 3 minute train ride away from the office. Since he started the previous week, he'd intended to enjoy the brisk morning walk to the office in the early autumn sunshine, but had invariably opted for the extra half hour in bed.

He took the shortcut across the field by the house - trying not to get his smart shoes too muddy - scrambled over the fence into the small, one platform station, and hopped on the train just a second before the doors closed, sighing with relief.

When he reached his desk, Merlin settled in his comfortable (and, no doubt, expensive) desk chair, threw his bag down and glanced around at people's office doors and desks, seeing that he was again one of the first to arrive - second only to Arthur. Merlin's immediate boss, Arthur Pendragon was almost always the first to arrive on floor 7 and the last to leave - prompting Merlin to vaguely wonder on more than one occasion if the man actually slept there, contemplating the possibility of a campbed secreted somehow in Arthur's office.

Despite being his boss, Arthur hadn't spoken more than a few words to Merlin, sending his instructions via email, but the others in the office assured him that it was nothing against him personally, it was just how Arthur was - especially when he had as much work on his plate as he currently did. Merlin, however, had a knack of being taken under people's wings - he liked to think it was because he was polite and nice, but it was more likely his youthful features and large, innocent looking blue eyes - so he had settled in quite easily.

Having fired off a quick email to inform Arthur that he'd arrived, Merlin set about dealing with anything that had come in overnight. This involved laughing probably slightly too loudly at a strip of an online comic that Gwaine had emailed him the link to at 3.41am - adding credence to Merlin's theory that Gwaine shouldn't be allowed near the internet after midnight. Or, for that matter, access to Merlin's work email address. As he started to type a reply about how it was all very well that some people were freelance and could choose their own hours but some of us have a job to do thank you very much, a new email popped up from Arthur requesting a coffee. Merlin sighed, but rose to put the kettle on anyway. Arthur was usually a tea person, but needed at least one strong, sweet black coffee in the morning before he could function properly, especially if his day was due to be full of meetings as this one was.

When the coffee was made, Merlin knocked lightly on Arthur's door, taking the answering grunt as an invitation to enter. He smiled as he walked into the room, setting the large mug down carefully on Arthur's desk and turning to leave before a voice stopped him in his tracks.

"Um, ahem. Thank you, Merlin." Merlin turned back to face him, trying to suppress the grin at just how awkward Arthur sounded.

"No problem. Was there anything else you needed?"

"Not particularly, no. It was only... Are you by any chance free tomorrow night? There's a few of us going out for a few drinks after work and we wondered if you'd like to come along? Get to know the new kid, and all that."

"Um, yeah, that would be nice, thank you." Merlin smiled, was pleased to get a small smile in return, and left the room as it became clear that that was all Arthur had to say on the subject. Well, drinks with the boss, there was no way that could go wrong.

From: [email protected]
To: [email protected]
Subject: Good Morning

In response to your message of last night, Seth Green's fantastic-ness (another new word? Might have to get you a dictionary) goes without saying. Oz/Willow were clearly the best couple of the entire show.

Sports-wise, I do fencing quite regularly, and used to play a lot of rugby at uni. Occasionally still do, but not enough.

My favourite tea is Tetleys...

From: [email protected]
To: [email protected]
Subject: Re: Good Morning

I don't need a dictionary, sometimes words don't quite say what I want them to say, making up something new is the easiest way round it :)

Rugby? Ah, you're one of those...

If you think your favourite tea is Tetleys, then you haven't tried proper tea. I can see some education will be in order...

From: [email protected]
To: [email protected]
Subject: Re: Re: Good Morning

What do you mean, one of those? Nothing wrong with enjoying a bit of rugby!

And what do you suggest in regards tea?

From: [email protected]
To: [email protected]
Subject: TEA - lesson 1

Oh come on, I went to uni in Wales, I know what rugby lads are like!

Don't get me wrong, one of my best mates is a rugby lad, and some of them can be really lovely, but a lot of them are kind of thugs, right? I mean, I always got the impression that a lot of them never really grew up from being the 'cool kid' in high school - they always seemed to feel the need to prove themselves, fighting more, drinking more and fucking more than the next...

Never appealed to me to be honest!

First lesson of tea is that Tetley's is not the best tea. In order to begin your education, I'm going to set you a challenge for the weekend. Pick up some Assam, Earl Grey, and Green teas (preferably Whittards, but I'll settle for Twinings), and try them. You think you can handle that?

From: [email protected]
To: [email protected]
Subject: Lesson 1? How many will there be?

Going to have to disagree with you about rugby. While I'll admit that it can on occasion attract some less than savoury characters, that's not who most rugby players are. There's an old quote that sums it up perfectly, saying that football is a gentleman's game played by thugs, and rugby is a thug's game played by gentlemen. My coach used to say rugby is about the art of controlled aggression - you let everything out on the pitch, then as soon as the game's over you drop all the aggression, the arguments, the feuds, and the losers buy the drinks. Some of the nicest, gentlest men I've ever met have been rugby players - a good mate of mine is built like a brick shithouse, he could probably push back the opposite team in a scrum by himself, but off the pitch he wouldn't say boo to a goose.

But I think that's enough of my rugby rant! I can handle the tea challenge, any reason why those three in particular? And I'll have to set one in return! Your challenge, should you choose to accept it, is to watch at least one rugby game. World Cup was less than a year ago, so you should be able to find one online pretty easy - go for All Blacks or Wales, but not the final, it wasn't as good as it should have been...

From: [email protected]
To: [email protected]
Subject: Tea education never ends!

Jeeez haha, I now know if I ever want to get you talking I just have to mention rugby! I maintain that the majority of rugby players at my uni were arseholes...

I accept your challenge. I've picked those three teas because I reckon they give a good introduction to the three main types of tea - black tea (Assam), flavoured tea (Earl Grey, flavoured with bergamot), and green tea. Once you've got used to those we might move onto fruit teas and flower teas! Bit sad the extent to which I can talk about tea, huh?

Well it's quarter past five, and my friend's texting me because I said I'd meet her outside at five but got caught up, so better be off! Speak tomorrow.

---------------------------------

From: [email protected]
To: [email protected]
Subject: Sorry

Good Morning

Really sorry but today is crazy busy so have no time to email. Speak Monday.

From: [email protected]
To: [email protected]
Subject: Re: Sorry

No problem, I understand.

My friend emailed me this, if you get a chance to check your email, it might cheer you up!

http://xkcd.com/1024/

From: [email protected]
To: [email protected]
Subject: Re: Re: Sorry

Managed to peek during my five minute lunch... Made me smile.

Thank you, you have no idea how much I needed that!

Have a good weekend, enjoy the rugby ;)

----------------------

Arthur sighed with relief, slowly tilting his head from side to side as he tried to stretch out the kink in his neck. It had been a long, tiring day of meetings and paperwork, and to be honest the only things that had got him through had been copious cups of tea from Merlin (with an extra sugar to keep him going), the comic at lunchtime from Dewin, and the prospect of a large, stiff drink after work with Lance. And now, finally, an hour after everyone else at the office had already left, he only had one email left to send and then he could leave. He rubbed his eyes and forced them to focus on the screen, typing the words slowly, his brain already in the pub. He pressed send and shut down his computer, cursing at it under his breath for being the harbinger of all his work, then checked his list of things of things he needed to get done over the weekend - for the first time in over a month, the figure was less than five, meaning he'd actually have time to get out his baking book and try something new. Arthur smiled softly to himself, vaguely wondering what he might try cooking as he gathered his briefcase and jacket, and left the office.

Arthur had been planning on heading home and get changed before going to the pub, but decided against it as that would just prolong the amount of time without a drink in his hand, and surely plenty of other people would have gone straight from the office, so he wouldn't feel too out of place in his smart suit and tie. He went so far as to undo his top button and loosen his red tie slightly as he pushed open the door to The Dragon's Egg, gravitating straight to the bar and ordering a scotch and a pint. He spotted Lance stood with a few of their other friends and made his way over, smiling innocently at the pointed glance Lance gave his two drinks.

"What? It's been a long day!"

He greeted his friends happily, and was glad that none of them chose to mention how long it had been since he'd been to the pub with them after work, they just settled into the routine of chatting and taking the piss out of each other which was by now as natural as breathing. The four, Arthur, Lance, Leon and Percy, had known each other since uni, and had all managed to end up working for the same company. They'd all been adamant that they hadn't wanted to get their jobs because they were mates with the boss's son, but luckily they were good enough at their respective jobs that it wasn't an issue.

Arthur had tuned slightly out of the conversation as he crunched a couple of numbers from earlier in the day in his head - a bad habit his friends were all too used to - but started paying attention again as he caught Leon making fun of Lance for choosing their current position in the bar because of its 'prime ogling potential', something Arthur kicked himself for not noticing before - it was his job to take the piss out of Lance for ogling Gwen! Arthur turned to look in the same direction that Leon was less-than-subtlely pointing to see the object of Lance's affection, and felt his breath catch in his throat as he saw his own secretary, looking much more comfortable out of work and his work clothes, instead sporting well-worn jeans that were tight enough to be nearing indecency, and a blue form fitting tshirt, with some kind of red scarf wrapped clumsily around his slender neck.

It must be the scotch, he thought. Stick to pints from now on.

-----------------------

Merlin had not at all planned on getting drunk - just 'a few quiet drinks after work'. Unfortunately, he had underestimated the iron liver of Gwen - one of the first people at the office who he'd spoken to, and a warm woman with a quick wit who was fast becoming a firm friend. It seemed every time he finished a drink there was a fresh one in front of him, punctuated by her mischievous grin and followed by a challenge - whether it be a drinking game, or pool (which Merlin was so bad at, he was convinced it couldn't be sporting to challenge him in the first place, but somehow he couldn't say no). And as such, he had to admit, he was rather tipsy.

He and Gwen were stood at the pool table, swigging their drinks and contemplating another game (or, as Merlin referred to it, a massacre) when Arthur walked in. Merlin could have sworn he felt the man's presence in the pub before he saw him - though he'd question this in the cold sobriety of the next day - and couldn't stop himself from watching as his boss walked over to his friends (including the attractive dark-haired man who couldn't stop looking at Gwen and was nowhere near as subtle about it as he seemed to think) and greeted them with a laugh and a clap on the back. It was the first time Merlin had seen the man with anything but fierce and serious concentration or worry on his face, and he decided instantly that Arthur should laugh a lot more often - it suited his face, and somehow made Merlin stop in his tracks.

A couple of minutes later, Merlin found he was still watching Arthur as the blonde man turned to look in their direction, and there was an odd look almost of surprise on his face. Merlin wasn't quite sure what to do, and settled for raising his drink in greeting, a shy smile on his face. There followed a moment where Arthur's expression didn't change at all, and Merlin started feeling like an idiot with a probable over-abundance of alcohol in his veins and was about to turn away, when Arthur's face broke into a small smile, nodding in his direction before turning back to his friends. Merlin let out a breath he hadn't realised he'd been holding, and turned to Gwen, offering to go to the bar for the next round. A double would be very welcome right now.

--------------------

The first part of Arthur's weekend was spent wishing death upon his friends and himself - he hadn't had quite so much to drink in a while, and god did it show. After depositing himself sullenly into his large shower for quite a long time he found himself feeling more human and ready to face the day. After throwing some clothes on he wandered into the kitchen, wincing only slightly as he opened the curtains above the sink. Perhaps today was not the day to attempt to tackle a croquembouche, probably just a tarte au citron instead, as Morgana was bound to visit that evening, and she had a large soft spot for lemon puddings - he still remembered the look of pure ecstasy on her face the time he'd served freshly baked hot lemon souffle pudding... That dessert was now reserved only for emergency bribery purposes.

As he put the kettle on, he remembered his challenge from Dewin, allowing himself a small smile as he recalled the man's indignance at what constituted good tea. He quickly booted up his laptop as his tea brewed (good old Tetley's, thank you very much) and brought up Google to find the nearest Whittards, a shop he had to admit he'd never been into before. To his surprise there was one only a ten minute walk from his apartment, so he decided to get dressed properly, head out and face his challenge like a man. (Before, of course, putting on his flowery pinny - a joke gift from Percy that he hadn't quite got round to chucking away yet - and baking a nice lemony tart.)

To be completely honest, Whittards scared him. It wasn't a big shop, but the shelves were lined with more varieties of tea than he'd thought existed in the world, let alone in an average sized shop not even in the city centre, and that wasn't even going into all the different (vaguely baffling, Arthur thought) types of coffee, hot chocolate and crockery. There had only been one other person browsing the shop, so the shop assistant's gaze was predominantly - and unsettlingly - directed at Arthur. This, in addition to his normal macho pride, meant that Arthur was loathe to ask for help and as such spent an inordinately long time gazing at the shelves of tea, trying to get the right ones. In the end he managed it, leaving the shop with three boxes of Assam, Earl Grey and Green tea each containing twenty five teabags (more than enough for an experiment, surely?), and also a nice new bone china cup and saucer, a large teapot with a pattern of friendly looking blue squares, a tea strainer and a loose leaf tea holder, because if he was going to do this he was going to do it right, dammit. And the loose leaf tea holder was in the shape of a little house. Which was kind of cool.

The Assam he tried when he got back from the shop. He liked it, it was pretty much like his normal tea, just... Well, better. It was more refined, the flavours more delicate and well-rounded, and it was full of a warmth that he felt radiate outwards through him as he swallowed. He could quite happily get used to this one. Whittards were right to call it the 'Tea of the Empire'!

The Earl Grey he tried later in the afternoon, as he sat in front of his laptop and got a bit of work done. He had to make two cups of this, as he left the first one to brew a bit longer than he should have, and it ended up unbearably strong and bitter. The second cup he only left to brew for a couple of seconds and it was undoubtedly milder and more pleasant to drink, but wasn't a taste he could grow to like all that much - a bit too much like soap.

The green tea he shared with Morgana as they devoured slices of his perfectly cooked tarte au citron - the pastry short and crisp and the filling smooth and deliciously lemony. The tea made him feel unexpectedly relaxed and calm (causing Morgana to very nearly look slightly surprised, but not quite), and he found he quite liked it.

--------------------

From: [email protected]
To: [email protected]
Subject: Challenge

Good Morning! How are you today?

I successfully completed the tea challenge (should I expect a prize?), how did you get on with the rugby?

From: [email protected]
To: [email protected]
Subject: You're too cheery for first thing Monday morning

Hello. I'm not too bad thank you, I'd rather still be in bed though! What about you? Have a good weekend?

Your prize for completing your challenge is that you get to keep emailing me! Lucky you.

Gotta admit, I'm slightly ashamed of myself - I watched the All Blacks vs Wallabies match, and got really into it! I had Wikipedia up in a different window so that I could try to keep up with the rules and so on, but I think I got the hang of it nearer the end. It's oddly enjoyable to watch two teams of burly men beat the shit out of each other - though I entirely blame the tight shorts ;)

Though it's by no means my favourite thing to watch, I enjoyed it (much against my better judgment) and wouldn't be averse to watching it again.

And I have to say, if - as a rugby player - you're built anything like Jerome Kaino, I can see us getting along very well!

How was the tea?

From: [email protected]
To: [email protected]
Subject: Monday morning, tonnes of work, why wouldn't I be cheerful?

Ahh, glad you enjoyed it! And you said I ranted about rugby, looks like it has the same effect on you!

Tea challenge was... Interesting. I really liked the Assam, but the Early Grey was pretty vile! The green was alright, went nicely with the lemon tart I made - you should try it, it's a nice combination. I even bought myself a teapot and proper bone china teacup to conduct my challenge - hope you're proud.

I wish I were built like Jerome Kaino! Let me guess, you're more of a Sonny Bill Williams? :P

From: [email protected]
To: [email protected]
Subject: Urgh. Morning people.

Glad you enjoyed the Assam. If I'm honest, I can't stand Earl Grey either, but everyone should have tried it at least once. I'm very proud of your teapot haha, I shall have to set you more tea challenges!

I would try the green tea/freshly baked lemon tart combo, but unfortunately I'm absolutely useless in the kitchen - I've finally got to the point where I don't always burn pasta, but that's about it! Closest I'll get is Tesco Finest, might pick one up after work if I remember.

Hahahaha Sonny Bill?? That's pretty much the opposite of me. If we're using All Blacks analogies, I suppose the closest thing to me would be Aaron Cruden - except I don't have his muscles. Or looks. Or talent. I'm a bit rubbish in comparison I suppose!

From: [email protected]
To: [email protected]
Subject: Nothing wrong with mornings.

If you can't stand Earl Grey, why the devil did you make me drink it? You unkind creature.

I'll make you a lemon tart one day. My friends inform me I'm pretty good, and my sister has in the past told me she'd kill people for a slice. It would be funny except I'm fairly sure she would...

Nothing wrong with Aaron Cruden - don't suppose you've got his ridiculously large ears as well? And on the talent front - you keep me amused at work, that's the most useful talent I can think of.

From: [email protected]
To: [email protected]
Subject: Everything wrong with mornings. Good thing it's afternoon now.

Like I said, everyone should have tried Earl Grey at least once in their lives. And if I was forced to endure it, then everyone else should share my pain :)

Your sister sounds scary. If you ever do make me a lemon tart, I'll have to give it to her as a preventative measure so that she doesn't kill me for it!

Ah, good to know I'm useful for something! Glad I keep you amused. I suppose you're alright as well :)

From: [email protected]
To: [email protected]
Subject: Afternoon just means it's nearly morning again.

You shall do no such thing! A lemon tart is a beautiful thing, don't go promising it away so easily.

I'm just alright? Well thanks :P

Gotta be off, quite a bit to do before finishing today...

Chat tomorrow :)

From: [email protected]
To: [email protected]
Subject: Shut up about mornings. I'm allergic to them.

I look forward to it :)

-----------------------------

Tuesday was the worst day Arthur had had in weeks. He only managed one short email to Dewin first thing in the morning, then his day was completely full of meetings and paperwork and fixing other people's fuck-ups. He didn't have time to have lunch or speak to Lance - a quick texted apology had to suffice, but Lance knew what Arthur's work was like and accepted it easily, teasing that he'd have to make Leon and Percy ogle Gwen with him instead of their usual sandwich at their desks. By the time Arthur finally left the office - several hours after even his Father - his brain had turned to mush and he could barely see, numbers and figures still passing through his vision.

The only thing he could concentrate on was the only thing that had made him smile that day - after a particularly evil meeting with his father (who was not happy about a certain piece of work not being done on time, though it was nothing to do with Arthur or his team), Merlin had come into the office bringing a cup of tea that Arthur hadn't had the time to ask for. He received it gratefully and took a sip, looking up at Merlin in surprise. The man had flushed, his ears turning an oddly pleasant shade of pink, and mumbled "I put an extra sugar in. I noticed you usually have an extra sugar when you've had a meeting with your father, I thought you might need it." He'd then turned and shuffled swiftly out of the room, leaving Arthur with a pleasantly baffled smile on his face.

---------------------------

From: [email protected]
To: [email protected]
Subject: Morning

You all right? Less stressed than yesterday I hope?

Tea helps.

From: [email protected]
To: [email protected]
Subject: Re: Morning

A bit, yes - sorry about yesterday. Can't believe we're only halfway through the week.

Tea does help, but I wouldn't mind something stronger! I don't go out drinking much but can't deny I'm looking forward to my end-of-the-week pint on Friday!

From: [email protected]
To: [email protected]
Subject: Re: Re: Morning

On top of everything else, you drink pints?

Oh dear. Can't believe I like someone who plays rugby and drinks pints. My seventeen year old nerd self would kick me.

From: [email protected]
To: [email protected]
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Morning

You like me?

From: [email protected]
To: [email protected]
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Morning

Well, yes.

--------------------

Arthur thought it was probably time to kick himself and take a look at what the fuck he thought he was doing. Flirting. With practically a stranger. Who he'd hated just a week ago. It was so unlike him.

Except... Maybe that was a good thing. His friends were always going on at him to be more reckless, right? Impulsive? Well what was this if not impulsive? And there was something about this Dewin guy. As much as it had pissed him off, it was refreshing to have someone who wasn't Leon or Morgana see through him and call him on his bullshit.

Plus, when he stopped to think about it, it had actually been quite a while - over two years - since he'd honestly been interested in someone - and even then it was Gilly, a man he'd wasted seven months on before finding out he'd only wanted Arthur for his position in the company, hoping a relationship would get him a promotion.

He'd nearly got it, too, Arthur thought bitterly. Since then Arthur had been cynically suspicious of anyone who showed an interest in him, opting for one night stands and quick fucks, but not letting anyone get close enough to actually start having feelings for them - at this point he didn't really believe anyone could want him for anything other than his position.

And now here was this man who had no idea of his name, let alone how important he was within his father's company, and still seemed interested in him. It was, to be honest, nice in a way that made him want to bake cupcakes. And he liked cupcakes.

Maybe, he thought, maybe this guy would be worth a chance. Worth letting go for. And it couldn't hurt to see where it went, right?

-------------------

From: [email protected]
To: [email protected]
Subject: Hi

Sorry I didn't reply yesterday, got caught up in a few pieces of work... No rest for the wicked, eh!

But in response to what you said, you know, same here.

From: [email protected]
To: [email protected]
Subject: Re: Hi

'Same here'??

Wow, I'm so impressed by your eloquence right now!

In fact, I'd be willing to bet you're an English Literature graduate, your vocabulary is just that breathtaking!

From: [email protected]
To: [email protected]
Subject: Psh.

At least I don't make up words.

From: [email protected]
To: [email protected]
Subject: 'Psh' not a made up word?

At least I'm not a clotpole ;)

Oh, and I thought since we did tea and rugby challenges last week, we could do another this weekend, what do you reckon?

From: [email protected]
To: [email protected]
Subject: Perfectly acceptable noise of exasperation.

Sounds intriguing, did you have anything in mind?

From: [email protected]
To: [email protected]
Subject: Pah.

When I was younger, my best friend back home and I had a continuing competition thing where we had to see what we could convince the teachers at our school to do without them getting suspicious. Not going to lie, I was pretty damn amazing at it - I had the bonus of faux-innocence, but he was more devious, so we were pretty evenly matched.

AS SUCH, your mission - should you choose to accept it - is to get the highest up member of Camelot as you can wearing a Hogwarts-inspired tie on Monday. The colour scheme is your choice, but you must tell me beforehand so I know it's not just a coincidence!

You up for it?

From: [email protected]
To: [email protected]
Subject: Challenge Accepted!

Haha sounds like fun to me!

Colours of choice are, of course: red and gold.

From: [email protected]
To: [email protected]
Subject: Re: Challenge Accepted!

Ooh, a Gryffindor, eh? Interesting...

I'm more of a Ravenclaw man myself (as you can probably tell from my significantly superior intellect), but fair enough.

You got a challenge for me?

From: [email protected]
To: [email protected]
Subject: Lions beat eagles.

If Ravenclaws are so smart, why do they never win the house cup?

Ravenclaw just means you're a bit odd.

And I shall have to think of a suitable counter-challenge, I'll let you know tomorrow.

From: [email protected]
To: [email protected]
Subject: Well... At least you're not Slytherin.

Because everyone expects Ravenclaws to be smart, so no one gives them points for it, whereas insecure little Gryffindors need validation in every area of their lives.

True story ;)

Ok, look forward to hearing from you tomorrow then.

--------------------

Friday saw Merlin late to work for the first time. His friend Elena had turned up at his place the previous night, puffy-eyed and upset, so he'd given her company, love, a large cup of tea and his bed for the night. This of course meant that he had spent the night in fitful bursts of sleep on the sofa, overslept, and had to hurry into work (a note and breakfast left on the table for Elena) so as to not be even later. He had appreciated her company - he had been feeling somewhat morose and lonely of late, and looking after her made him feel better - but really could have done without the look that appeared on Arthur's face when he entered the office.

Miraculously, he made it til lunchtime before he was called into Arthur's office.

"Look, Merlin, - "

"I know, I know, I was late, I'm sorry, it won't happen again."

"You're right, it won't. I know you're still new, but we really don't tolerate lateness here, especially with the crazy workload we've got going on at the moment."

"I know, I've said I'm sorry, a friend needed me. Have you never been slightly late because of extenuating circumstances?"

"No. Work comes first."

Merlin stood for a moment, shocked by this impulsive revealing of - to him - skewed priorities.

"It doesn't come first for everyone. And sometimes, it shouldn't" With that he left the room, trying hard not to slam the door, with an anger he couldn't quite place.

Arthur scowled.

--------------------------

From: [email protected]
To: [email protected]
Subject: TFIF

Crazy busy again today, sorry...

God, I must be the most dull person to have as a penpal, right? Always working.

But I thought of a challenge, if you're up for it?

From: [email protected]
To: [email protected]
Subject: Re: TFIF

Well if you're dull, I must be crazy - seeing your name in my inbox makes me grin, even when someone at work has pissed me off and you're just apologising for being busy!

I am definitely up for a challenge. (Hoping it doesn't involve too much nudity - my best friend from back home used to set me far too many naked-related challenges, in increasingly public places...)

From: [email protected]
To: [email protected]
Subject: Re: Re: TFIF

Did you do the increasingly naked challenges?

This is (unfortunately) nothing to do with nudity though...

I challenge you to bake a cake of your choosing, bring it in on Monday and leave it in the staff canteen to be shared by everyone, so that an anonymous penpal could potentially sample a slice and remain anonymous.

Challenging enough?

Have to go now - ARGH PAPERWORK. Need a beer.

From: [email protected]
To: [email protected]
Subject: Re: Re: Re: TFIF

Couldn't let him win, could I? ;)

I manfully accept your challenge, but warn you in advance that I genuinely can't bake for shit. I will try very hard not to poison everyone with my failings, but can't make any promises...

Don't lie, you love paperwork really. And let's be honest, post-paperwork, vodka is clearly the way forward.

Hope you have a good weekend :)

----------------------------

That night, Arthur was at the bar before Merlin, who had stopped off at home to get changed and check on Elena. When Merlin walked through the door, he glanced around, taking stock of who was around, and caught sight of Arthur and his cronies occupying their usual corner. To his surprise, Arthur was staring straight at him, and when he realised with a start that Merlin was looking at him, he raised his pint in his direction with a small smile, seemingly half in greeting and half in apology. Merlin smiled back, nodding at the man before being greeted by a distinctly merry Gwen with a large drink in each hand, yelling that he needed to catch up. Merlin groaned - trying to match Gwen drink for drink, he'd discovered, was dangerous. Despite her small stature, she seemed to have a stomach made of steel, though she claimed she could only handle her drink because she'd 'trained for years under the great heavyweight herself - Morgana'.

A while later, Merlin's pockets having got lighter and his speech more slurred, Gwen left for the toilet ("I'm not gonna spew", she assured him loudly, "I just need a piss. Shhhhh") and, seeing Merlin was alone (trying - and failing - to improve his pool skills), Arthur wandered over.

"Hey Merlin. Look, about earlier-"

"Don't worry about it, we'd both had a long day, no big. And anyway, we're at the pub, no work talk allowed!" Arthur had a strange look on his face, as if he maybe hadn't actually been going to apologise, or perhaps he was just baffled by the concept of work talk not being allowed, but seemed to decide to drop it, moving easily to his next topic of conversation.

"So, you and Gwen seem close."

"Yeah, yeah, she's been great. And she can't half drink."

"So are you two, you know, a thing?"

"Me and Gwen? Ha! Oh god no."

"Oh, you seem pretty adamant about that, not your type?"

"Yeah, something like that. I reckon it's the vagina that does it." At this Arthur had to pause halfway through a sip of his drink as he snorted, tried not to choke or spray alcohol in Merlin's direction, and stared incredulously. Merlin realised this was probably the first time he'd seen the other man let his calm and collected demeanor slip, and absently thought it rather suited him.

"Why," Merlin continued, "Are you interested? Want me to put a good word in or something?"

"No no no, not at all. Not for me, anyway."

"You sound about as adamant as I was!"

Arthur smirked. "Yeah, and I guess for the same reason, as well." Merlin raised his eyebrows. "But hey, one of the reasons I came over. Look, have you met my friend Lance? Can be a bit of a douche, but means well?"

"Yeah I've spoken to him a little, why?"

"Well basically, he's had a huge thing for your friend Gwen for ages, but he's too much of a pussy to actually do anything about it, so I was wondering if you could do me a huge favour and introduce them? I wouldn't usually ask, but..."

"Sacrificing your own pride to help a friend? How touching!" Merlin allowed a grin to break on his face, showing Arthur that he wasn't the arsehole he was trying not to come across as.

Arthur chuckled, low and smooth. "To be completely honest it's a bit more selfish than that - there's a lot I'd sacrifice to avoid hearing Ode to Guinevere three times a day. I'm not even joking, if I have to hear the phrases 'chocolate curls' and 'sun-kissed skin' one more time, there may well be violence. You'd be preventing a bloody murder, it's basically your civic duty to introduce them."

Merlin kept his face as straight and serious as possible, putting every effort into not letting any stray giggles escape as he replied, "well, if it's as serious as that, I suppose I have to don't I? Wouldn't want any brutal violence to happen at the office. God knows you'd only make me clean it up."

Arthur grinned widely and started moving slowly back in the direction of his friends. "So, you'll help?"

Merlin couldn't contain his smile in response - happy Arthur was infectious. "You owe me!"

A minute later it became clear why Arthur had suddenly left, as Gwen returned and tapped him on the shoulder, slightly less drunk than she had been but still smiling, which meant no puke. Score.

"Sorry I was a while, I ran into Morgana. How's the pool going?"

"Huh?" Merlin was confused for a moment, before he remembered he was still stood next to the pool table with the cue in his hands. "Oh, you know. Usual levels of bad. Hey, have you seen Arthur tonight? I said I'd say hi if we were both out and, umm, he said he'd buy a round of drinks."

Gwen gave Merlin a bit of an odd look, but was obviously more intrigued by the possibility of a free drink than the reason Merlin wanted to see Arthur all of a sudden. "He's over there in the usual corner, surrounded by the usual gang."

"Come on then, let's go say hi." With that, and armed with a winning smile, Merlin took Gwen's wrist and dragged her fairly unceremoniously towards the huddle of men surrounding Arthur, who had been keeping an eye on Merlin and turned to greet them as they approached.

"Merlin! Good to see you out. You know the guys, right? Lance, Perce and Leon?"

"Right, hi guys. Have you met Gwen?" Merlin tried not to grin too obviously as they all said their 'hello's, including Lance who had flushed a rather fetching shade of magenta.

"Percy? Percy Steele, right?" Gwen queried as the large, muscular man nodded. "This is going to sound crazy, but did you by any chance go to college with my brother? His name's Elyan."

"Oh god, I did! I haven't seen him in the longest time, how is he?"

"He's good, yeah, I-" Gwen didn't get far into her response before Arthur interjected.

"Sorry guys, but I just need to see Merlin about something, we'll be back in a minute, all right?" The others nodded their assent as Arthur and Merlin walked in the direction of the bar and out of earshot of the others, who were still discussing Gwen's brother.

"Why are we leaving? We've only just introduced them, and Gwen's only talking to Percy at the moment anyway."

"All part of my masterplan. Within the next two and a half minutes, Leon will offer them all a drink, and Percy will have to go with him to help him carry them, but they will tell Lance to stay there to save the spot. As such, Gwen and Lance will be forced into conversation and getting to know each other. We keep an eye on it from here, if it goes well we can conveniently disappear, if it doesn't we can be back and saving things within seconds. It's genius, if I may say so myself."

"It's evil is what it is," Merlin muttered, as he glanced over Arthur's shoulder to see Leon and Percy excusing themselves as Lance's face made its best effort to do an impression of a radish. "But it seems to be working."

"Of course it's working," Arthur grinned smugly. "I'm brilliant."

Merlin laughed at the other man's vanity. "Well I hope you're brilliant with deep pockets, because to get Gwen over there I told her you'd promised to buy us drinks, so that'll have to happen otherwise she'll think I lied."

"You did lie! You want me to protect your character by validating your lies?" Arthur's face was almost perfectly serious, only the wicked glint in his eye giving him away.

"Pretty much, yeah. Anyway, I said you'd owe me."

"So me buying drinks makes us even?"

"Oh god no. This is just the start."

From: [email protected]
To: [email protected]
Subject: YOU ARE ACTUALLY FUCKING KIDDING ME, RIGHT???

Please tell me this is just a complete coincidence.

Please.

I genuinely don't think I could cope if you confirmed the fact that you actually got UTHER FUCKING PENDRAGON, the BIG BOSSMAN OF THE ENTIRE FUCKING COMPANY, wearing an actual, honest-to-god GRYFFINDOR TIE.

Seriously now. I don't know whether to laugh or cry.

Please put me out of my misery before I explode with the suspense.

Arthur chuckled at the memory of the phone call he'd had with his father the previous night. He'd been tempted to wear the tie himself - he was, after all, about as high up in the company as you could get, but thought it would be cheating. He'd known that Uther was due to have a meeting with important clients first thing Monday morning and had managed to convince him to forsake his usual soberly coloured tie for one in the colours of the company logo - a golden dragon on a red background. The stripes kept it formal, he'd said, but the colours would be a show of confidence in the company to both the employees and the clients. To be honest, he hadn't expected it to work at all. But it had. And it had impressed Dewin.

From: [email protected]
To: [email protected]
Subject: Challenge completed

What can I say, I'm a competitive bugger :)

Impressed? ;)

From: [email protected]
To: [email protected]
Subject: Re: Challenge completed

Trying very hard not to admit to being gobsmacked, to be honest...

But now I know the level you're up to, I'll have to think up some harder challenges!

Dare I ask your methods? I was always half convinced that my friend back home had really juicy dirt on all the teachers and was just blackmailing them all...

Also, just so you know, the cake is in place - planted by a friend so that it can't be traced back to me! I'm practically 007...

From: [email protected]
To: [email protected]
Subject: Live & Let Die

Considering naming challenges after Bond films, seeing as you're 007 (Craig? Connery? Brosnan?). This one is Live & Let Die because I'm kinda scared of actual death from food poisoning...

Haven't tried cake yet, but going down for lunch break soon, so I'll let you know how many corpses I see down there.

And of course I can't tell you my methods, a magician never reveals his secrets! Anyway, you might use them against me, and as I said, I'm pretty damn competitive!

From: [email protected]
To: [email protected]
Subject: Re: Live & Let Die

Aha, you've fallen into my trap! Bond (none of the above) strikes again - I have an ally keeping an eye out for who takes cake... Inside information will be reaching me shortly.

A magician - what are you, Harry Potter? Fits with the Gryffindor-ness I suppose.

Also, I resent the implication that my cake will kill people - I tried very hard, I'll have you know!

From: [email protected]
To: [email protected]
Subject: Re: Re: Live & Let Die

Ahh Mr Bond, I'm not so easily tricked! I very cleverly (one could even call me a genius...) got a friend to pick me up a slice to prevent tracking. It's not just you who's sneaky!

Coffee cake - fairly ambitious for a first cake. Tasty though, sponge slightly dry (maybe five minutes less in the oven next time), but just the right amount of coffee flavour. I declare this challenge a success.

And even though Draco Malfoy is clearly more badass, I'll happily be Potter. Good at sports, centre of attention, rich, I could live with that :P

From: [email protected]
To: [email protected]
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Live & Let Die

My spy kinda failed me anyway, turns out she spent most of her time flirting with this guy she's into. TRAITOR TO THE CAUSE. It must have worked though, because he took an extra slice of cake... My cake brings all the boys to the yard.

Also, don't lie, I know the real reason she didn't see you - you were wearing your invisibility cloak, weren't you?

Glad you enjoyed the cake - I blame the dryness on far too much work and therefore subsequent accidental napping.

From: [email protected]
To: [email protected]
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Live & Let Die

Well I shall have to stop setting you cake challenges, don't want to have to share the cake - or, for that matter, you - with all the other boys it might attract to your yard.

Nearly the end of the day, chat tomorrow. Thanks for the cake, Bond :)

xxx

From: [email protected]
To: [email protected]
Subject: Live & Let Live

I shall try not to lure too many men with my baking overnight ;)

You're welcome, Potter :)

xxx

--------------------------------------------

Arthur was doing an excellent job of completely ignoring the ringing phone until Merlin came into his office, without knocking, of course, threw a scrunched up ball of paper at his head (and Arthur dreaded to think what important and confidential pieces of information might be contained in this particular piece of ammunition), and told him to answer it because it was Morgana and she was threatening violence to everyone in his office if he didn't pick up the damn phone. Arthur, ever the epitome of sophistication, stuck his tongue out, and carefully ignored Merlin's answering grin as he grabbed the offending phone, resolutely not watching his assisstant leave the room.

"I have just had missiles launched at my cranium for this, what do you want?"

"Honestly darling, I take it from your slow response and lack of rage that you haven't checked your emails in the last half an hour?"

"No, I'm trying to get these bloody stats sorted, why?"

"I suggest you have a look. Don't worry, I can wait." And she started to hum an annoyingly cheery tune as he opened up his email, grumbling under his breath all the while. He suppressed the grin that threatened to emerge on seeing Dewin's name, and went straight to the email from Uther.

From: [email protected]
To: All Staff
Subject: Merger

It is my pleasure to announce that, after months of negotiations, our merger with Mercia LTD has been successful. As such, I wish to announce that this Friday will be a half day, and I shall be hosting an informal drinks reception at the Boar's Head in celebration.

This merger is excellent news for the future of the company, and I extend my thanks to all those whose hard work brought it to fruition.

"Oh for fuck's sake." Arthur groaned.

"Now there's the brother I know and love!" Arthur could hear the grin in Morgana's voice. "Which bit shall we complain about first?"

"Firstly, the merger isn't finished, we've still got weeks of work on it, especially your lot in HR. Secondly, is he really trying to spin it as a friendly merger instead of a violent takeover?"

"I have a theory, that when Uther was a child he would call it sharing when he stole the toys from other children. He just has a way with words..."

"Thirdly, this email is going to make the people that work here think he's nice. He's not. He's an evil dictator and we both know it."

"Everyone that works here knows it too, I can't shake the suspicion he's just trying to get everyone to let their guard down so that he can strike when we least expect it. I think he's descended from snakes."

"And finally, why the hell do we have to go to the Boar's Head for this stupid drinks reception? I hate that place."

"Oh come on Arthur, it's just your kind of place, full of old boys who've never had to lift a finger - you fit in perfectly!"

"Fuck off. Why can't we just go down the Dragon's like any other Friday?"

"Because then Uther would come. Can you imagine, Uther in the Dragon's? It's like sacred ground, I can't figure out if he'd melt or if the bar would."

Arthur shuddered at the thought.

"Look, Morg, I really need to get these numbers in order, but I'll give you a ring later. Okay? I'm sure we can find a way of avoiding it, or skipping out early at least."

"You know he'll never let us miss it. All right, you put your scheming brain into action, I hope the cogs aren't too rusty."

"Oh fuck off" he said affectionately, before saying goodbye and putting the phone down.

--------------------------------------------

From: [email protected]
To: [email protected]
Subject: Challenge?

Hey. Are we doing challenges this weekend?

From: [email protected]
To: [email protected]
Subject: Re: Challenge?

We can do, why, you got a devious one in mind?

From: [email protected]
To: [email protected]
Subject: Re: Re: Challenge?

No, not particularly, just used to them now I guess. My weekends would be a lot more boring without them!

And anyway, gives me a way to get to know you better :)

From: [email protected]
To: [email protected]
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Challenge?

I'd say you already know me pretty well! Better than a lot of my face-to-face friends by now probably, and if that isn't worrying I don't know what is :P

Okay, I shall dig deep within my brain to try and find a suitable challenge for you...

From: [email protected]
To: [email protected]
Subject: Your challenge, should you accept...

Not well enough!

I had a thought for a challenge, but it's a bit different, so let me know if it's crap...

I challenge you to tell someone the truth. Not like "Your hair is brown" kinda truth, a hard truth, an important truth, capital-T Truth. Because from things you've told me it sounds like you're far too nice and polite to people, it's about time you told someone where to shove it :)

Only catch is you then have to tell me!

From: [email protected]
To: [email protected]
Subject: Challenge accepted!

Interesting challenge! I like it though. I accept the challenge, though I can't for the life of me think what to do for it.

Similarly abstract challenge for you: I challenge you to do something unexpected.

From: [email protected]
To: [email protected]
Subject: Unexpected?

I'm not so good at unexpected, just ask my friends or my sister quite how predictable I am. Seriously, I'm so predictable that I have a friend who can correlate my mood and what day of the week it is and tell me exactly what baked good I am working on at that time - it's actually a bit depressing how accurate he is, I'm sure he must have CCTV installed in my flat or something.

So yeah, I guess unexpected would be a good thing!

I accept your challenge with trepidation and manly bravery ;)

--------------------------------------------

"Hey Lance, are you going to this drinks reception on Friday?"

"No."

"Why not? I need you there to stop me from killing someone. Potentially myself."

"Because Uther isn't my father, I don't need to go. You'll have Merlin, I trust him to prevent too much bloodshed. I'm going down the Dragon's like every other Friday."

"Gwen will be there, Morgana's making her go."

"Good for her, I hope she enjoys herself at the expense of the two of you."

"Lance. Please?"

"Nope."

"I hate you."

-----------------------------------

From: [email protected]
To: [email protected]
Subject: 'Informal' drinks

Thought I'd better warn you - when my father says 'Informal', he's lying.

Do you own a suit?

From: [email protected]
To: [email protected]
Subject: Re: 'Informal' drinks

What do you think I wear to work every day?

From: [email protected]
To: [email protected]
Subject: Re: Re: 'Informal' drinks

Oh Merlin, please. Black trousers and a wrinkled shirt do not a suit make.

Seriously, do you have a proper suit, waistcoat, jacket and all? The place Uther is forcing us to go to is stupidly posh, no joke. Oh, and have you got any tie that isn't that vile blue one? I can lend you one if you want.

From: [email protected]
To: [email protected]
Subject: Re: Re: Re: 'Informal' drinks

So posh even you think it's posh? Jeez, I'm pretty fucked then. Um, I've got a friend I can probably borrow a nice suit from, not promising it'll fit me perfectly though, he's broader round the chest than me. A tie would be great if you wouldn't mind.

Don't see what's wrong with my nice blue one though...

------------------------

Arthur was already cross, uncomfortable and more than a little tipsy by the time Merlin arrived. The first thing to catch his eye was his own tie round the other man's neck - it does bring out his eyes perfectly, he said to himself, just like I knew it would. Shame about the suit though...

Merlin's suit was black with a dark grey pinstripe, looked surprisingly expensive and well made, and was fitted perfectly - except not to Merlin.

"Who did you borrow that off then?"

Merlin flushed with embarrassment. "Is it that obvious?" Arthur raised his eyebrows, taking in the extra room around the man's waist, the loose shoulders, and the slightly too-short trouser leg.

"Yes."

"Oh. I was kind of hoping no one would notice. I borrowed it from my friend Gwaine."

"Oh yeah? What does he do that requires a suit like that?"

"Very little to be honest. He's an artist, does mostly freelance graphic design stuff to pay the bills. His agent made him get a nice suit for interviews and openings and things, but these days I think he pretty much just rolls it out every time his girlfriend calls him a slob just to try and prove her wrong. Though to be fair I reckon she's just as much of a slob as he is, she probably only calls him a slob to get to see him in the suit."

"He's got a girlfriend, huh?"

"Yeah, Viv, she's lovely."

"Good."

"Why?"

"Oh, you know, if you were wearing another man's clothes and you were both single it might, I don't know, mean something." Arthur reddened slightly, mentally blaming the vodka in his hand for his inability to verbalise what went through his brain. In fact he could probably blame the vodka for the fact it went through his head in the first place.

Both men had either forgotten or deigned to not mention the fact that Merlin was indeed wearing the clothing of another single man in the form of Arthur's silk tie. It was probably a bad idea to dwell on the thought that that might 'I don't know, mean something', so the subject was swiftly changed to which particular alcoholic substance might make the party more bearable, in addition to what on earth Morgana was wearing and why.

------------------------

Within the hour, Arthur and Merlin were pleasantly tipsy, leaning on each other in the corner as they simultaneously avoided and judged everyone else, sharing quiet words and suppressed laughter. Morgana joined them briefly, smirking every time their snarky comments were aimed at each other instead of the rest of the room, before calling them a pair of giggling schoolgirls and going to join Gwen in a different part of the room to do pretty much exactly the same thing. They enjoyed aiming their light-hearted vitriol solely at Morgana for at least ten minutes after that, grinning happily at each other each time a joke was made.

The drinks reception itself was indeed a dull affair, filled mainly with the more senior management staff and the ambitious young up-and-comers trying to brown-nose their way into a promotion. Arthur was far too used to these events, usually spending them at his father's side, smiling politely and carefully ignoring the barely hidden snide comments about nepotism and how easy he must have had it. Oh how he wished he could just snap at them, informing them that actually, his father expected far more from him than from anyone else, and how hard he had to work to prove to the company, his father and himself that he had earnt his position, not just been born into it. Because he worked hard, dammit, and was good at what he did - not that any of these people saw that, they just saw another hurdle on their way to the top.

"Who's that over there, talking to Morgana? She doesn't half look like she wants to punch him..."

"Morgana wants to punch everyone, never forget that. If she's angry, it means she wants to punch you. If she's happy, it means she wants to punch you. Except you're not related to the damn woman, so she probably won't follow through on it."

"She's really not as bad as you make her out to be, you know. And you didn't answer the question."

"Oh, that's George. He's working with Morgana in HR at the moment, though he's made his way through most of the departments at the company by now. He was my assistant for a while, good at his job too."

"Yeah? Why did he stop working for you?"

"Honestly, Merlin, he is one of the most boring men I've ever had the misfortune to meet. Each department puts up with him for about six months then fobs him off to someone else. He makes jokes about stats. Stats, for fuck's sake! I'd rather have someone working for me who is a bit crap at their job but keeps me entertained than have someone who makes jokes about stats."

"Are you saying I'm a bit crap at my job?"

"Oh shush, you know that's not what I meant. Oh god, he's seen us. Quick, if we run to the bar he might not talk to us!"

And so the two shuffled as quickly as they could in the direction of the bar, very definitely not giggling, but possibly chuckling in a manly fashion. They propped themselves next to Gwen, who had migrated that far by that point, nudged each others shoulders, met each others eyes, managed to keep straight faces for all of ten seconds, then collapsed in semi-hysterical laughter. Gwen merely raised her eyebrows.

By that point, Morgana had escaped George's deadly clutches, and was stalking towards them with a murderous glint in her eye. She came to a halt in front of Arthur, poking a perfectly manicured fingernail into the centre of his chest.

"Why didn't you save me?"

Oh honestly, Morgana, you never save me when he accosts me. And anyway, this is Merlin's first time at one of these things, I've got to look after him. God only knows what he'd get up to if I didn't."

"You do know he's an adult, right? He's perfectly capable of looking after himself."

"You'd think so, but actually he's not - he's genuinely quite incapable of interacting like a normal human being without my expert help."

"Really? This is the excuse you're using to escape the usual Pendragon meet-and-greet? It honestly is your turn, if I have to make polite small talk with one more lecherous old man who makes conversation with my breasts instead of me, I swear they will not survive the night. And you might not, either."

"Well if you are going to wear that dress, I don't know what you expect."

"He's right, you know," Merlin interjected with a sly grin. "Not about the dress - although, you know, he's got a point - but I am really quite spectacularly useless. Now, Arthur, could you please teach a poor simpleton such as myself how a normal human being might go about downing a double vodka and coke in less than ten seconds?"

"Why Merlin, it would be my honour and pleasure to instruct you." And with that, the two men turned triumphantly back towards the bar, muttering quietly between themselves as if congratulating each other on a battle well fought. Morgana stared incredulously at them for a moment before turning her accusing glare on Gwen, who had ignored the entire exchange in favour of tapping away happily on her phone.

"What? Oh, sorry, Lance texted." And her small smile was filled with such pure joy that Morgana honestly couldn't stay angry - hard as she tried.

-----------------------

It couldn't have been more than half an hour later that Arthur and Merlin came to find Morgana and Gwen, who were talking to Gwen's friends from the canteen. Morgana was instantly suspicious, mainly down to their matching sheepish expressions and the large, dark red stain that was slowly spreading itself down Merlin's torso.

Tempted as she was to start asking precisely who did what this time (honestly, it was like having children sometimes), she merely crossed her arms, raised a single eyebrow, and released her patented Glare Of Doom. Merlin faltered almost immediately, but Arthur was unfortunately more used to it.

"Here's the thing, Morg. Merlin is useless and clumsy and spills everything."

"Me?" Merlin spluttered. "You're the one who dropped nearly a whole glass of red wine on me!"

Arthur reddened. "Yes, well, that doesn't negate the fact that you're clumsy and useless."

"Your face is clumsy and useless."

"What does that even mean?"

"I don't even know, but -" The two seemed dangerously close to erupting into giggles once more, so Morgana felt the need to interrupt.

"Boys. What did you come over here to tell me?"

"Well Clumsy-and-useless over here managed to spill my glass of good red wine all down himself -"

"Lies! You're the one who spilt it."

"- and his friend needs his suit back tomorrow, so I've offered to get it cleaned like the good and generous pal I am."

"More like, because it was your fault."

"So we're off."

"Off?" Morgana near screeched, causing Gwen to turn round to see what was going on. "You're deserting me here?"

"Yeah, pretty much. Look, take Gwen, make an excuse, and leave. Go join Lance and the boys at the Dragon's or something, we might pop round there later, and Father can cope with getting his arse licked without one of us to hold his hand. Because now I think about it, that's actually a pretty fucking disgusting thought. But have a good night, ok?" Arthur leant forward, kissed his sister on the cheek, threw a smile at Gwen and left, his hand at the small of Merlin's back as he led him through the crowd towards the door.

"You know, he's got a point. We've been here long enough that Uther can't throw a fit if you leave, and by the sound of his texts, Lance and that lot are having a lot more fun..." Much as she hated to admit it, Morgana had to concede that perhaps if even Gwen agreed, Arthur might indeed have a point.

------------------------

The train back to Merlin's part of town was quite short, but felt longer as they talked (with only hints of slurring) about everything and nothing, pressed together thigh-to-thigh and shoulder-to-shoulder as they leant into the heat of each other's bodies. They discussed how close Gwen and Lance were getting ("My genius plan is working!"), the fake vintage Leica camera that formed Merlin's phone case, the book that Arthur currently couldn't stop reading - if he ever got the time - and the virtues of living that bit further out of town.

As they walked from the station towards Merlin's flat, the closeness remained as the backs of their hands brushed together with almost every step. It seemed as though their skin was made of flint and tinder, each touch creating sparks that felt as if they must leave trails of heat in their wake.

By the time they got to Merlin's door, they had fallen into a comfortable silence, occasionally meeting each other's eyes and sharing grins. Merlin managed to unlock the door with only three tries, and ushered Arthur inside in front of him.

"It's probably nowhere near as nice as anything you're used to, but, you know. It's home."

"Don't be silly. It's, well. It's lovely, actually." And it was. Okay, it was a bit messy, and the fittings and furniture were older and cheaper than Arthur's own, but it was homely, and comfortable, and just so Merlin. And let's be honest, Merlin was lovely.

"Can I offer you a drink or anything?" Merlin seemed to have suddenly realised that he and Arthur were standing in his hallway in the semi-dark, perilously close as Arthur's breath ghosted on his cheek. Merlin bit his lower lip nervously, and once the idea had popped into Arthur's head that he should replace those teeth with his own, he couldn't escape the image that filled his mind. He stared unashamedly at Merlin's lips, stained slightly from red wine and laughter, contrasting beautifully with the white teeth that worried them. The effort that it took to keep himself standing still prevented Arthur from answering that question for slightly too long.

"No, I'm - I'm fine, thanks."

Unable to hold himself back any longer, as if the words had released his muscles, Arthur stepped forward, crashing his lips into Merlin's, taking advantage of the man's surprised gasp to thrust his tongue into his mouth, making the most of an intimacy that he was sure would be stopped - possibly violently - any second. It was his turn to be surprised as, after a few seconds, Merlin relaxed into the kiss and started giving as good as he got, their tongues locked in a duel for dominance as they slid against each other, their hands grasping desparately at hip, waist, neck, hair, as if fearful one of them might come to their senses any moment. Arthur slid his hands down to Merlin's arse, gripping and lifting, and nibbled on the lighter man's bottom lip as Merlin got the hint, bracing himself on Arthur's shoulders and wrapping his legs around his waist. Merlin couldn't help but let out a groan as Arthur stepped forward and slammed Merlin's back against the wall, never pausing his assault in his lips. That heady mix of pleasure and pain was only heightened as Arthur rolled his hips, grinding their groins together as they breathed in each other's moans.

Soon all Merlin's brain could focus on was the inability to comprehend why they were both wearing so many clothes and, held in place with the wall at his back and Arthur's muscular chest to his front, Merlin slid his hands to the front of Arthur's shirt, pulling, fiddling and ripping until there was nothing holding it together, at which point he pushed his hands over Arthur's shoulders, forcing the shirt and the jacket that had been worn over it to the ground. This made Merlin do something he hadn't previously managed - he tugged his lips away from Arthur's mouth, and instead ran both his fingers and his eyes over that chest, those arms, those shoulders. Oh those shoulders... And in that moment, there was nothing he wanted more than to do loving and increasingly rude things to this man, this gorgeous, perfect, statue of a man whose hands held him easily and whose lips nuzzled at his throat, coaxing out the moans that Merlin couldn't hold in.

He reluctantly unwrapped his legs from Arthur's waist, carefully lowering his toes to meet the floor and didn't fail to catch the uncertainty and hunger in Arthur's eyes as he raised his head to meet Merlin's gaze. Merlin grinned, leant forward, dragged his tongue along Arthur's jaw to culminate in a light nibble on his earlobe, and whispered just one word.

"Bedroom."

In any other situation, the growl that eminated from deep in Arthur's throat might have been frightening.

Somehow they made it from the kitchen to Merlin's bedroom, pausing for several make out sessions against a variety of surfaces and removal of clothes on the way. By the time Merlin pushed Arthur down onto the bed, they both still had boxers on, Arthur had retained both socks, and Merlin still had one sock and the tie that had been so painstakingly perfected earlier in the evening. Arthur wasted no time in using it to pull Merlin forward until he was straddling Arthur's hips, leaning forwards and capturing those lips once more as he made Arthur very aware that there were only two thin layers of cotton between their equally hard cocks that seemed to crave the touch of flesh.

Soon, the taste of Arthur's mouth wasn't enough for Merlin, he wanted to sample every inch of the body beneath him. He wanted to devour. He reluctantly moved away from the man's lips, finding it difficult to resist the groans of complaint that ensued, and set about changing them to groans of pleasure as he licked, nibbled and sucked his way down Arthur's throat and chest. He was caught between a smug grin and an insatiable moan as Arthur's fingernails scraped down his back in response.

Merlin bit sharply on one of Arthur's nipples, eliciting a shocked gasp, and swiftly smoothed the sensitive skin with gentle, lapping licks before repeating the treatment on the other side as his fingers explored the firm muscles of Arthur's stomach. He moved further down, trailing a line with his tongue all the way down to Arthur's navel in his wake, and hooked his fingers into the waistband of Arthur's soft black boxers. He paused a moment, steeling himself for the point of no return, then pulled them down, freeing Arthur's rock hard cock.

Merlin took a moment to smile at his luck - the dick in front of him precisely matched the man it was attached to: beautiful, sculpted, big in all the best ways, and fucking edible. He couldn't hold himself back, and leant forward to lick a stripe along the underside, from root to tip, and couldn't help but notice the way Arthur's hips jerked as if he were trying his hardest not to thrust all the way into Merlin's mouth. Merlin decided it was only polite to remove the temptation, so abruptly licked his lips, fit his mouth over Arthur's head and slid down as far as he could, sucking lightly and humming with pleasure. This surprised Arthur, but pleasantly, if the loud moans were to be believed.

Merlin moved his head leisurely up and down, sucking, hollowing his cheeks and swirling his tongue around Arthur's cock, tasting every inch he could get his mouth on. He loved the experience of Arthur's gradual loss of control as the man allowed more moans to escape, and his hips jerked more each time Merlin put pressure on the thick, throbbing vein on the underside of his cock with his clever tongue. Merlin's fingers were soft as they stroked and fondled Arthur's balls in unpredictable patterns, til his forefinger found its way further back - the gentleness of its touch in direct contradiction with the rough but skilled desperation of his mouth - over his perineum and toward the puckered heat of his hole.

Merlin was often perfectly happy to bottom during sex, in fact there was little he loved more than a good hard cock pounding into him, the perfect balance of burning pain and scorching pleasure. But when he heard the sharp hitch in Arthur's breath as his finger circled the man's entrance, there was nothing he wanted more in that moment than to be inside him; filling him, breaking him apart and completing him with each thrust. Groaning at the thought, he pulled off of Arthur with an obscene pop and kissed his way back up his body, leaving his finger teasing the soft skin at the crease of his arse.

"I want to fuck you" Merlin murmured into Arthur's ear, then regretted it immediately as the man stiffened underneath him. Dammit, he shouldn't have mentioned it, especially when he would have been more than happy for Arthur to fuck him into the mattress. And now he'd made Arthur uncomfortable, and he'd ruined the whole damn thing, and he shouldn't have fucked with the status quo, and -

"Fucking get on with it then." Arthur growled, relaxing back into Merlin's touch and flexing his back, pushing down until Merlin's finger breached the tight ring of muscle, eliciting a low moan from both men at the dry friction of it. Merlin wasted no time in removing his finger carefully and leaning over to his bedside table, tugging open the top drawer and quickly grabbing a condom and a bottle of lube before settling himself back between Arthur's legs.

Merlin took a deep breath and flicked open the cap on the lube, pouring a generous amount onto his fingers and warming it between his hands before returning his hand to Arthur's arse and carefully but surely sliding one slim finger inside. He started to pump his finger in and out, circling and stretching, as he leant back over Arthur, kissing the man's lips, jaw, neck. Before he knew it he had three fingers squeezed inside Arthur's tight hole, burying them up to the knuckle with each thrust and curling them, rubbing across his prostate and making him groan and arch his hips into Merlin's.

Arthur's hands seemed to be everywhere all at once: they scratched angry marks down Merlin's back, they pushed his boxers down, they pulled his hair, gripped the back of his neck, tugged his cock. Merlin knew that with Arthur around his fingers and Arthur's fingers around him he couldn't last much longer, so he pulled back, grabbed the foil packet of the condom between his teeth and ripped it open before rolling it quickly onto himself. He manoeuvred Arthur's legs, placing one around his waist and resting the other up on his shoulder to make it easier for both of them, planted his hands firmly either side of Arthur's head, then looked into those piercing blue eyes for a final confirmation that this was ok.

Arthur pulled Merlin down, his hands buried in messy black hair, and - in a moment of surprising tenderness - kissed him softly on the lips. The men paused for a moment, caught in the balance, but couldn't hold themselves back for long - Arthur bit down hard on Merlin's bottom lip as Merlin thrust forward, pushing and pushing until he could push no more, and could feel Arthur's buttocks against his thighs. This pause did not hold balance or softness, but was full of clenched fingers, panted breaths and low grunts.

Merlin started to move, slowly rolling his hips and uttering swear words under his breath at the sensations as he worked up to long, deep thrusts. Arthur moved beneath him, raising his hips to meet each thrust and changing the angle slightly so that Merlin hit that blessed bundle of nerves each time, pushing exhalations, moans and "Fuck, Merlin"s out of him.

A warm tingling running up his thighs told Merlin that he wasn't going to be able to last much longer, the tight heat of being inside Arthur - of, oh god, filling him completely - threatening to overwhelm him. A voice at the back of his head said he should try to avoid coming an embarrassing amount of time before Arthur, so he reached a hand down and started pulling roughly at the man's large cock, trying to match the pace of his own thrusts and grounding himself with the teeth nipping at his collarbone. He moaned loudly as a larger hand came down to cover his, quickening the rhythm and tightening the grip until Arthur's movements stuttered, stilled and, with an impressive groan that might have started out as Merlin's name, he came, covering both of their hands and torsos with the hot white liquid.

Even if Merlin hadn't been close before, the sight of Arthur's face contorted with pleasure and the clench of his arse as he came would have completely done him in. As it was, he managed two more short thrusts before his conscious mind exploded in bursts of light and heat and stars and goddamned galaxies and the best orgasm he'd ever fucking had. He floated on air for what seemed like forever but was probably only a few seconds, and when he came back to earth he found that he'd collapsed onto Arthur, who was breathing as heavily as he was.

After a few minutes, Merlin reluctantly pulled out of Arthur - trying not to feel guilty as he winced slightly - tied a knot in the very full condom and threw it in the general direction of the bin. He grabbed the corner of the duvet that had found its way to the edge of the bed and pulled it unceremoniously over them, and was only slightly surprised when Arthur pulled him into his arms and kissed him slowly and deeply before settling back down onto the pillow.

The two men, fingers locked and legs tangled, were asleep within minutes.

-----------------------

Merlin awoke slowly, trying to combat the sensation of OH-GOD-OW-WHY-ME that seemed to be trying to consume his face and brain, presumably in punishment for his own consumption of far too much wine and possibly a vodka or two the previous night.

He curled underneath his duvet, quietly processing his current state. Well rested, yes, so he'd slept well for once. Hungover, pretty self explanatory. Nauseous, but not about to throw up any minute, so a fry up was out of the question but a dry breakfast should be okay. Somewhat unhappy, probably mourning his own lack of brain function. Cold, blame the lack of clothes. Lonely, that was - wait. Hang on. Lack of clothes?

He looked groggily around to confirm his assessment and found that, not only was he utterly devoid of clothes, but the only items of clothing from the previous night he could see in the room were his boxers, one sock and - peeking out from under his pillow - his tie. Damn. Time to dig down into the sodden recesses of his memories from last night and try to figure out what - or, oh god, who - he'd done.

He remembered Gwen, Lance, giggling, and shots. He remembered deciding that the bottle of Merlot was his and shouldn't be shared. He remembered laughing, and joking, and insulting, and teasing, and flirting, and blonde, and blue, and being pushed up against a wall and kissing like the world was about to end.

Arthur. Oh fuck.

Merlin groaned with disbelief, scouring his brain for any alternate scenario in which he might not have actually just fucked his boss, but was unsuccessful. He froze for a moment, listening to see if there was any evidence of anyone else still in his flat, but couldn't hear anything, so decided to be brave and have a look.

He managed to crawl out of bed and put on clean boxers and a jumper, then retreated to the bathroom to piss, splash cold water on his face, and take at least twice the recommended dose of nurofen. He then made his way slowly throughout the rest of the flat, peeking round corners before turning them as if Arthur may be hiding, ready to jump out at Merlin any moment. He wasn't.

The only pieces of evidence in the flat that the previous night had been anything out of the ordinary were the occasional item of Merlin's clothing strewn in increasingly interesting places (the floor? Fine. The toaster? Baffling. Around the light? Actually quite impressive), and a plate in the kitchen that was covered in a teatowel and letting off a thin ribbon of steam.

Merlin inspected it suspiciously for a few moments before deciding that Arthur probably wasn't a murderer and it probably wasn't a bomb, and he removed the towel with a flourish.

Pancakes.

On his old, chipped dinner plate (handpainted with pansies by his mother) sat a pile of about eight small scotch pancakes, golden brown and still warm, obviously cooked fresh that morning.

He glared at the plate for a minute, wondering if he was still dreaming, then decided that if he were dreaming he might as well enjoy it, and shoved the topmost scotch pancake unceremoniously into his mouth. He nearly moaned in pleasure as his teeth broke through the slightly crisp edge to reveal the inside - soft, light and fluffy. Perfectly flavoured, not too sweet. He grabbed the butter out of the fridge to put a quick smear on the next pancake before devouring that one too.

As he quickly made his way through the plate, he couldn't help but wonder - who the hell makes pancakes for a drunken one-night-stand?

----------------------------------

Arthur stood in his kitchen, stirring a bowl of cake batter furiously. As much as he didn't want the cake to sink due to over-mixing (a mistake he hadn't allowed himself to make in years), he had to let his frustrations out on something, and beating cake mix tended to be less painful than beating walls.

What had he been thinking? It was like he was determined to sabotage himself - he'd only just made the decision to see how things went with this penpal guy (who, he reminded himself, was funny, witty and charming - not to mention had no clue about his standing in the company), and the next thing he knew he was drunk and fucking some other man. His assisstant, no less, because apparently even when being a complete pissing cliche he had to go the whole hog.

He didn't even want to think about the fact that Merlin had topped. Arthur hadn't bottomed for anyone since he lost his virginity (because, oh god, he never wanted to repeat that experience), and really didn't want to consider what it might mean that he'd not only bottomed for Merlin, he'd been so fucking enthusiastic about it.

To be honest, he really didn't want to think about it at all. It had clearly been a mistake - a very, very drunken one - and meant nothing to either of them. All he needed to do was ignore the fact that it happened, go back to things being normal with Merlin - his assisstant, no more - and focus on Dewin.

He tried to ignore the miniature Morgana in his head yelling "Pretending things don't exist doesn't make them go away, it just makes you delusional" as the full size one had repeated to him many times, divided the batter evenly between two greased springform tins, and thrust them unceremoniously into the pre-heated oven. He reached into the fridge for eggs, milk and cream, thinking about the fact that he hadn't made himself a creme caramel in ages. And not about Merlin at all.

----------------------------------

"...And I tell you what, they were the best pancakes I've ever eaten. And the washing up had been done! I mean, who does that?"

Merlin was sat at the desk in his uncle's empty bookshop, recounting the tale of the previous night (leaving out, of course, the gory details) to his uncle, Gaius, who was shuffling round the shelves checking stock and ticking things off on an old, ratty clipboard as he listened intently.

Gaius's shop was old, a bit dusty, and sold predominantly second hand occult books, so it wasn't exactly the busiest place. It generally picked up a bit on Saturday afternoons, though, and Merlin frequently helped out by manning the counter while his uncle sorted stock, or reshelving, or accounting - things Merlin didn't particularly understand or care about.

He was happy to help though, the customers were mainly regulars who all knew him, and it gave him an excuse to spend time with Gaius, who was the closest thing to a father figure he had. Also, Gaius didn't know Arthur, so Merlin could talk to him about the man's odd actions.

"Well, had you talked about what this might mean to either of you?"

"No, we were a bit... Distracted." Merlin blushed. "I don't even know if I want it to be more, I mean I like him, and we get on, and, you know, pancakes. But he's my boss."

Gaius nodded sagely - as if the concept of screwing your male boss was one he understood all too well, an image Merlin really did not need.

"Romances in the workplace can be tricky. Though talking of which, I thought you were getting on well with that penpal chap of yours?"

Merlin winced. "Yeah, we are getting on really well... But if I had the choice between getting to know someone in person and getting to know them by email, there's no contest, you know? I mean, Mort and I get on like a house on fire now that he's stopped being an arsehole, and if I could meet him in person I'd jump at the chance, but you can't wake up in the arms of a laptop. Does that make sense?"

"Yes, I see what you mean. Well I suppose all you can do now is wait and see how Arthur feels."

"Though sometimes people find it difficult to see clearly what they want - like one side of a coin trying to see the side that makes it whole." Merlin jumped as the voice came from behind the bookshelf that Gaius was stood next to, then took a deep, calming breath as he saw a regular customer of the shop shuffling slowly towards them.

"Oh hello, Mr Gareth." Merlin said. "I didn't know you were there."

"How many times must I tell you, call me Cillian. And that is so often the case with the youth of today, not seeing what is right in front of them. Am I right, Gaius?" The man smirked in an infuriatingly knowing way at Gaius, who swiftly changed the subject, telling Merlin he'd decided he wanted to do up the shop building's wild and unruly back garden, and asking Merlin to go outside and see how much work he think it might need.

On occasion, Merlin thought Gaius might be slightly magic, in his constant knowledge of when an argument needed to be pre-emptively avoided and precisely how to do so.

------------------------

When Monday morning rolled around, Merlin was almost looking forward to seeing Arthur. He'd spent most of the weekend in the back garden of Gauis's shop, attempting to 'trim' grass he was sure was taller than him, and had found that gardening (/battling his way through the jungle) lent itself to deep thinking.

Merlin had never overly wanted to get involved with anyone he'd worked with, but then he'd never worked with Arthur, and the more he thought about it the more he thought they'd compliment each other. He'd been nervous of the man at first, but once he'd managed to worm his way past the serious and workaholic exterior (admittedly with the help of a couple of beers), he'd found a fun, warm man with whom he shared a sense of humour that was equal parts darkly sarcastic and immaturely silly. A man he could talk to, laugh with, and who was - let's face it - a fucking beast in the sack.

And so, when Merlin sauntered from the lift into the office, a small smile played about his lips. He hadn't slept fantastically, but had managed to wake up in plenty of time and hadn't had to hurry to catch the train for once. He loaded his computer as the kettle boiled, firing off a quick email to Gwaine to nag him that it was his turn to host their occasional Dr Who and tequila night (the tequila helped assuage the shame of ugly crying about Ten and Rose). He didn't have any emails from Arthur even though the man was clearly in his office, so he assumed that he would want a coffee - it was first thing on a Monday, after all.

When Merlin had stirred all of the sugar in, he crossed to Arthur's door, knocking merely as a formality before he wandered in regardless. Arthur sat hunched over a pile of papers, concentrating with pen in hand. He looked tired. Merlin placed the mug next to him and stood, starting to feel a bit awkward by this point, next to the desk as he waited for Arthur to look up. The pause that followed was thick and lasted too long for comfort before Arthur finally broke it.

"Can I help you?" If that hadn't been enough to cut through Merlin's hopeful optimism, the look he proceeded to give him was - it wasn't even neutral, it was a dischordant symphony of uncaring scorn, the kind of look one would flash at a stranger in the street if they were to spit on the ground, before promptly forgetting their existance.

Merlin's heart dropped through his feet as if on a particularly unpleasant rollercoaster and he quickly shook his head in response before leaving the room, closing the door carefully behind him. He sat behind his desk, took a large gulp of his cup of tea and breathed heavily, wondering when he'd allowed Arthur the power over him to change his mood so drastically in such a short amount of time.

----------------------------

From: [email protected]
To: [email protected]
Subject: Morning

Good morning. You had a good weekend?

From: [email protected]
To: [email protected]
Subject: Re: Morning

Hey.

Hasn't been too bad, haven't been sleeping all that well though so pretty tired this morning.

How did you do with this week's challenge?

From: [email protected]
To: [email protected]
Subject: Re: Re: Morning

Not so well to be honest, haven't really had an opportunity to tell a big truth! I told the truth to a friend after a few drinks on Friday night, but that doesn't count.

I guess the closest thing would have been telling my uncle that I really don't want to spend every weekend in the forseeable future trying to sort out the godforsaken hellhole that he calls the back garden to his shop. (He's got me doing it anyway, so this time the truth didn't help! Oh well.)

x
From: [email protected]
To: [email protected]
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Morning

What did you say to the friend then?

That sounds like a nearly useful truth, and it does seem like the truth, so I'll allow it :P

From: [email protected]
To: [email protected]
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Morning

Ah nothing important, bit of a long story anyway.

How was doing something unexpected?

From: [email protected]
To: [email protected]
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Morning

Not as unexpected as I expected! It's possible I may have overthought the whole thing and possibly also done some chickening out...

I did something kind of unexpected Friday night I guess (what is it about Friday night?), and also made creme caramels - my friend nearly had a heart attack when I told him what I'd cooked, which was good because it was obviously unexpected, but also slightly worrying that something as insignificant as my baking could provoke such a reaction... I think I should make him go to more regular check-ups at the doctors.

From: [email protected]
To: [email protected]
Subject: Yawn

Well I'm proud of you anyway, from the sounds of it, any change (however slight) to your slightly OCD cooking habits is an achievement!

What happened Friday?

From: [email protected]
To: [email protected]
Subject: Hope that's out of tiredness, not me being boring...

Friday was just a few drunken antics - but I don't usually drink enough to have 'antics', and was with a friend I haven't known very long, so I reckon I can count that as doubly unexpected - more points for me.

Is there an actual points system for this challenge, or do we just make it up as we go along?

From: [email protected]
To: [email protected]
Subject: Sorry, really knackered :S

Of course we just make it up as we go along, wouldn't be fun any other way :)

From: [email protected]
To: [email protected]
Subject: Me too.

Ha, of course not. I'm winning anyway though, right?

Sorry I'm all blargh today, feeling so out of it.

xxx

From: [email protected]
To: [email protected]
Subject: Re: Me too.

Of course you're winning... For now! I'm just lulling you into a false sense of security, it's all part of my master plan ;)

That's fine, I am too. We'll talk tomorrow though, yeah?

And 'blargh' isn't a word :P

xxx

-------------------------

Morgana sauntered easily into Arthur's office without warning - as usual - on Tuesday and stated that she'd asked Merlin to get them coffee because they were going to need it if they were going to get these forms filled in by the deadline.

"What forms?"

"What forms? Arthur, are you joking with me? Because that's not funny. The personnel ones from the merger, we need them in HR by midday." Arthur groaned and tried very hard to resist the urge to bash his head resoundingly and repeatedly on the surface of his desk. He hadn't forgotten something this important for years.

As if finding his pain amusing (which, in his opinion, it most definitely did), the universe chose that moment to send Merlin bumbling through the door carefully balancing two mugs of coffee and glaring resolutely at the dark liquid inside them. Arthur found that he had to quickly suppress a blush before it forced him to explore whether it was caused by anger or embarrassment.

"Merlin, where did you put those personnel forms from the merger?"

"They'll be somewhere amongst the 'In' pile on your desk, where you asked for them, sir."

Arthur fumed silently, and couldn't completely suppress the flush that coloured his cheeks this time as Merlin placed the two mugs on the desk and swiftly left. Before the whole debacle between them, there wouldn't have been anything in the 'In' pile. He always kept up to date, even if it meant staying in the office til ten in the evening, or working full days at the weekend. How had he let himself get so distracted? It wasn't like him at all.

Morgana, as ever too observant for her own good, had watched the exchange and Arthur's attempts at a neutral facial expression with a calculating look in her eye, and ended up at the only logical conclusion.

"Arthur, what did you do?" Arthur looked up at her as if he'd forgotten she was there and narrowed his eyes.

"What do you mean, what did I do? You automatically assume I've done something wrong?"

"Well when was the last time Merlin brought you a cup of tea or coffee without you having to ask?"

"Probably Friday, why?"

"And the last time he insulted you? Or called you on your superiority complex bullshit? Or smiled at you? Or joked with you? Or came up with increasingly complex and convoluted dastardly schemes to force Gwen and Lance together with you?"

Arthur was completely fed up of her condescending, accusatory tone and couldn't stop himself from yelling "Last week. Why? What the fuck point are you trying to make, you utter harpy?"

Morgana just looked unhappy and sat silently for a few minutes, waiting for Arthur's anger to run out of steam. Finally she spoke softly and sadly.

"Arthur. What did you do?"

-------------------------

From: [email protected]
To: [email protected]
Subject: Stop - Challenge time!

(Like, to the tune of Hammer time? It's funny, feel free to laugh...)

This is me, invoking the right of midweek challenge!

As such, I hereby challenge you, Potter, to tell me two secrets that you have never ever told anyone before - one serious and one silly.

If you're lucky I might tell you two of mine :)

From: [email protected]
To: [email protected]
Subject: I laughed. It's not funny.

An intriguing proposition, Bond!

Yeah, okay. I warn you though, I'm not so good with sharing.

From: [email protected]
To: [email protected]
Subject: I'm hilarious, don't lie to yourself

That's fine, I'm pretty over the top with sharing, so my overshare will make up for your share deficiency.

From: [email protected]
To: [email protected]
Subject: I would put obligatory 'your face is hilarious', but I haven't seen your face...

Okay, secrets then. Here goes:

1) Because of my upbringing, I honestly believe I'm not good enough. I'm not a good enough employee, I'm not a good enough friend, I'm not a good enough partner for anyone who may show an interest. I am a constant disappointment to myself, which leads me to kind of hate my job.

2) Despite my complete and utter baking evangelism, my favourite snack in the world is a McVitie's dark chocolate digestive biscuit with tomato puree on top. Don't judge, it's wonderful.

From: [email protected]
To: [email protected]
Subject: I'd like to see your face

Wow. And you say you're no good at sharing... I wish I knew how to change your mind on the first one. I think you are good enough, and should be proud of yourself for the man you are, the man whose emails are the highlight of my day. And I'm glad that you work here, because if you didn't I may never have met you. Though if you ever decided to quit your job and open a bakery, I would be in there all the time, eating your cakes and getting nice and fat.

As for the second one, well. There are no words for how disgusting you are.

From: [email protected]
To: [email protected]
Subject: I'd like to see yours.

That's more than enough about me, time for your secrets please?

And with the digestives - don't knock it til you've tried it. Seriously, it is the most perfect combination of sweet, savoury and tangy. It's a dream.

From: [email protected]
To: [email protected]
Subject: Secret time

1) I wish I could meet my father, just once, and tell him that he should be proud of the man I've grown into, and that he should be so sorry that he walked out when my mother was pregnant because he's missed wonderful things. Except I'm not entirely sure I believe that myself.

2) Once, my best friend from home and I went into my next-door neighbour's garden, and stole apples from his tree. We only got two each, and he never picked them anyway, but I felt so guilty that I threw up.

From: [email protected]
To: [email protected]
Subject: Re: Secret Time

He has indeed missed out - if I knew him, I would shake him and ask what the hell he was thinking. He gave up the chance to see ridiculous, wonderful you at your best and your worst, and I don't get to see you at all.

Not sure the extent to which throwing up is a silly secret, but it is sufficiently gross to probably qualify so I'll let you off.

You talk a lot about this friend from back home - should I be worried? :P

From: [email protected]
To: [email protected]
Subject: Re: Re: Secret time

Haha oh God no, nothing to worry about at all!

We tried to practise kissing on each other once when we were about twelve but ick and no, it just felt so wrong.

He lived a few doors down from me so we knew each other from the age of, like, 2. Both of our mothers were single parents, so they kind of teamed up - we were more like brothers than anything I guess.

From: [email protected]
To: [email protected]
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Secret Time

Were? Have you grown apart a bit since you moved away?

From: [email protected]
To: [email protected]
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Secret time

Um, not quite. I guess you could say we've grown apart a bit since he died.

From: [email protected]
To: [email protected]
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Secret Time

Oh fuck me, I'm so sorry, I had no idea!

What happened? If you don't mind me asking...

From: [email protected]
To: [email protected]
Subject: Will.

No need for you to apologise, there was no way you could have known.

His name was Will and he was the best friend I ever had. He was my brother and my best friend and my ally, he could read me like a book and we would defend each other to the death - though that got him into more scrapes than it did me, to be completely honest.

He was one of those guys where he could walk into a room of complete strangers, and when he left ten minutes later, not only would he have made friends with (and probably subsequently taken the piss out of) everyone, but he would have made sure they all made friends with each other. It sounds like an exaggeration, but I swear to you I've seen exactly that happen on more than one occasion. I don't know how he did it.

He was one of those unlucky but stupidly optimistic people. One time, he'd just lost his job, his arsehole girlfriend had just split up with him, he couldn't afford rent so he was sleeping on my sofa, and he just grinned at me and asked why I looked so glum. I asked how he could stay so cheery in the face of all that, and he just said "Well, you big tart, it's gotta mean it's nearly time for things to start going right!"

Three years ago, things were finally going right - he had a job at a bar he really enjoyed, finally got it together with 'the one' (god, they'd been dithering around each other since year 11, it was getting pretty boring for the rest of us!), he was happy. He'd just finished work one night and was walking home alone when a drunk driver hit him and drove off. He died almost instantly, they said, and they caught the driver - but that won't bring him back.

The police told me first - woke me at three in the morning. You know what they say, a knock on the door at three in the morning is never gonna be good news - I still now can't get to sleep without some kind of noise in the background (I like audiobooks) because I have nightmares about those sirens waking me again.

I still have his answer in my head to pretty much any situation, I know most jokes and cutting remarks he'd say at any given time. Sometimes I even say them, just to feel like he's there. But just because I know what he'd say doesn't replace him being there to say it. God I miss him.

Wow, have just realised how much I wrote... Really sorry, I get this kind of evangelical zeal when it comes to Will - I know how amazing he was and I kind of want everyone else to know too. Sorry.

From: [email protected]
To: [email protected]
Subject: Re: Will.

Wow. I'm impressed with the sheer level of, as you say, evangelical zeal - ever thought of becoming a Jehovah's Witness? (In case you haven't noticed already, I make jokes when I don't know what to say, and I'm shit with emotions...)

Seriously though, I'm so sorry that he's dead, and that you had to go through that - I wouldn't wish that on anyone, least of all you, and I wish I knew what to do to make it better. He sounds like a good guy.

Not gonna lie though, I'd probably be jealous of him if he were still around, he gets far too much of your attention :P

From: [email protected]
To: [email protected]
Subject: Re: Re: Will.

Let's be honest, he'd probably hate you! He could be a complete twat sometimes (and no, I'm not going to suddenly say that he was perfect just because he's dead like some pricks from school did), especially to guys I dated!

He was just over protective though :)

Also I reckon he'd be worried that you're more daring in fulfilling challenges :P

From: [email protected]
To: [email protected]
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Will.

What can I say, I'm pretty damn amazing at challenges ;)

Thank you for telling me about Will, you didn't have to and I appreciate it.

Didn't even notice 5pm flying by! Better go.

Talk tomorrow, sweet dreams :)

xxx

From: [email protected]
To: [email protected]
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Will.

You're pretty damn amazing full stop.

Good night.

xxx

-----------------------

Arthur did not enjoy the rest of the week. He and Merlin were barely speaking - only exchanging words directly related to work - and he didn't quite know what to do. He didn't enjoy not knowing what to do.

He hadn't entirely intended to be quite so ridiculously rude the first time he saw the other man after - after the weekend, but he'd been tired, and maybe overthinking, and hadn't had his coffee yet dammit. And Merlin had just stood there, stood there with that stupid grin on his face as if he was waiting for praise or something, and it had hit Arthur that yeah, he probably had just fucked the boss in hopes of getting a promotion or a raise or something. Arthur had just snapped.

He'd meant to discuss things with Merlin like a human being, he had. He had no idea what he would have said, but he would have thought of something. But now Merlin was being wary of him, stepping as if on eggshells, looking at him as if he'd kicked a favourite puppy, and each time Arthur saw those sad eyes it just made him angrier, more resentful. What did he have to be sad about?

The sadder Merlin looked, the crosser Arthur felt about the whole thing. The more Arthur snapped, the more Merlin avoided his eyes, spoke quieter and closed the door really quietly and carefully in a way that yelled 'I AM PASSIVE-AGGRESSIVELY FUMING AT YOU'. It didn't help that Morgana kept looking pityingly at the two of them every time she was in the vicinity. Arthur occasionally took it upon himself to remind her that he'd seen some of the specimens she'd crawled into bed with in the past and didn't think he was the one that needed pity. She just sighed in response and shook her head sadly.

The only thing that kept him going through work was his emails to and from Dewin. Even those had been tainted by the guilt he felt about sleeping with Merlin, but his penpal was so warm and so open that he nearly managed to forget. They were by now in the habit of emailing throughout most of the day every day (Arthur was only just getting enough work done, and dreaded to think if Dewin was too), and discussed anything and everything, from the deep and philosophical to the light and unimportant.

Arthur was growing increasingly fond of Dewin, and was not going to allow himself to screw this up again.

--------------------------------------

From: [email protected]
To: [email protected]
Subject: Afternoon

Had a meeting this morning, argh! Didn't murder anyone who pissed me off though - you proud?

From: [email protected]
To: [email protected]
Subject: Re: Afternoon

Very proud :)

Boss hasn't been around this morning and I didn't have much work to get done so went for a gossip with my friend (the bad spy, remember her?).

Oh, and got a new audiobook in the post - looking forward to listening to it tonight.

From: [email protected]
To: [email protected]
Subject: Re: Re: Afternoon

Tut tut, gossiping when you should be working? You'd better be careful or I might tell Uther :P

I do remember the bad spy - she's nothing compared to you, Mr Bond! How is she? Has she got together with that guy who distracted her from cake-watching?

What audiobook did you get? Is that to listen to when going to sleep?

From: [email protected]
To: [email protected]
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Afternoon

You'd never tell on me, you like having me around too much ;)

She's fine, and yes she did! They're basically like an old married couple already, it's a bit gross if I'm honest with you.

New audiobook is Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows read by the wonderful Stephen Fry. It is for sleeping purposes, yes - I almost always listen to Harry Potter to go to sleep to (usually Goblet of Fire, it's my favourite), but sometimes listen to other Stephen Fry things. Who wouldn't want to go to sleep to the sound of Stephen Fry's voice?

From: [email protected]
To: [email protected]
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Afternoon

Eurgh, couples. My best friend recently got together with a girl he's been after for ages (he used to make me go with him to basically stalk her at work...) and they're the same.

Ha, so basically, you go to sleep to stories about me? ;)

From: [email protected]
To: [email protected]
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Afternoon

Yes, I suppose I do! Haha, hadn't even thought about that.

That just makes them even better.

Off for the day now, chat tomorrow :)

xxx

--------------------------------------

Arthur had taken to eating his lunch alone in his office, but on this particular Tuesday he was in an uncharacteristically good mood - a cartoon Dewin had sent him as a 'good morning' had actually managed to make him laugh out loud - and so decided to indulge Lance's order to join him for food in the canteen. After all, he only had cold (not to mention slightly crappy and half-squished) sandwiches with him, and fancied something hot for a change.

He finished up with a couple of emails he needed to get sent off before he took a break, locked his computer (with Dewin's email up in the browser to be there as soon as he got back to his desk) and hummed all the way to the lift, earning some delightfully baffled looks from his colleagues.

When he walked into the canteen though, his good mood vanished as suddenly as English sunshine when he saw where Lance was sat - not at their usual table (which they frequently shared with a number of the guys, depending on who was free at any one point), but with Gwen and Merlin.

Now, Arthur didn't know what Merlin might have told Gwen, but he himself hadn't told Lance what had happened - it was none of their business. Regardless, they knew something had happened to cause them to fall out, and Lance knew that Arthur didn't want to spend more time with Merlin than was strictly necessary. Well, thought Arthur, I don't know what they're trying to force me into this time, but it will not work. With that in mind he stalked over to the table in question, seeing from closer-to that Merlin looked about as uncomfortable as he felt. Well, good.

"Hi Lance," he said pointedly, ensuring a cold sneer was fixed onto his face. "I'm just going to go back up to my office, I'm not as hungry as I thought."

"Dude, come on. Just sit down and stop being a wanker." Arthur's cheeks tried to tinge pink - Lance had the nerve to call him a wanker?

"I'd rather not thank you, dude, the company in my empty office is a much more appealing prospect than the company here. Nice to see you Gwen." It wasn't until he was walking away - marching stiffly towards the lifts - that he realised that what he said might actually have been accurate - after all, his office had the potential for emails from Dewin.

Lance and Gwen looked nervous as Merlin fumed, neither having seen him this angry before. His cheeks were flushed an angry red and his scowl almost comical in its cartoon-esque lines, making his face look even more angular than usual.

"How fucking dare he be so rude."

"Look, mate, he's just being... Well, he's just being Arthur." Lance spoke quietly, trying to placate Merlin.

"He's got absolutely no right to treat me like shit, just because I fucked him once. We were both drunk for Christ's sake."

"Well, he fucked you..."

"I fucking beg your pardon? On top of everything else, he told you he had his cock up my arse? I swear, that man can not bear to be seen as anything but a top - "

"No, no, he didn't tell me anything, I don't want to know to be honest. It's just... He always tops. He hasn't bottomed since he lost his virginity, it's kind of a big thing for him I guess."

Merlin stopped his tirade mid-flow, trying to take in the information that had just been dumped on him. "What?"

Lance's face did seem to be doing its best impression of a radish, uncomfortable with the way the conversation seemed to be going. He looked imploringly at Gwen for help, but she just shrugged and shovelled more food into her mouth with a smile. He didn't blame her.

"Look. I'll say this, and then we are going to change the fucking subject because I'm hungry. The guy Arthur lost his V-plates to was a prick, and was not careful at all. There was blood, I had to drive him to hospital, and he hasn't bottomed since, that I know of. And I don't blame him. Now can I please eat my lunch?"

Merlin nodded absently, lost in thought, and completely failed to notice Gwen pausing her focussed pursuit of food to squeeze Lance's knee as he joined her in shovelling. They really did suit each other, with their matching love of food.

-------------------------------

From: [email protected]
To: [email protected]
Subject: Hey.

No challenge today, sorry - half asleep.

My friend Elena has taken to visiting more often recently, and when she does I have to sleep on the sofa, and even with audiobooks on I sleep very badly, so feeling kind of crap to be honest.

Sorry.

xxx

From: [email protected]
To: [email protected]
Subject: Re: Hey

Don't worry about it, no need to apologise!

How come she's been visiting so much?

xxx

From: [email protected]
To: [email protected]
Subject: Re: Re: Hey

You're too nice to me, even when I'm half asleep and boring.

Um, Elena was Will's girlfriend - you know the one I mentioned, 'the one'? We were all friends through school, and the two of them were basically in love from year eleven onwards, it was just one of those stupid things where they each thought the other liked someone else or something, and they'd only get close to getting together when one of them was with someone else, so they only actually officially got together a few months before the accident.

She's had a pretty rough month or so, and it's coming up to the anniversary (December, by the way), so she's having a hard time of it. When she's having a hard time she has a tendency to turn up on my doorstep in tears.

xxx

From: [email protected]
To: [email protected]
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Hey

Oh god, poor her - and poor you!

Are you doing ok, with having to look after her?

I don't half worry about you sometimes.

xxx

From: [email protected]
To: [email protected]
Subject: Psh

No need to worry, I'll be fine.

I actually quite like having her round - we tend to eat take out, drink more than we should, and reminisce about all the awesome times we had with Will, so we do tend to spend more time laughing than anything else. I like it because I can focus on looking after her, and making sure she's ok, so I don't dwell on things that get me down, so it helps I guess.

It's just, with having her a couple of evenings a week, then work as well, it's kind of knackering, you know?

xxx

From: [email protected]
To: [email protected]
Subject: Psh is not a word.

I have a challenge for you - go and get some sleep!

Wish there was something I could do.

xxx

From: [email protected]
To: [email protected]
Subject: Psh is onomatopoeic.

Haha I will try, just for you :P

Wish I could just see you. We will one day.

xxx

-------------------------------

In the days and weeks that followed, Arthur's moods felt increasingly bipolar - swinging worryingly quickly from butterfly-stomached elation every time he received an email from Dewin, and the guilt-ridden irritation every time he saw Merlin's face. These days they worked most efficiently when the only communication between them consisted of Arthur's emailed instructions ("More orders from his fucking highness", as Merlin grumbled) and Merlin's terse questions of "Anything else?" when he had to take something into Arthur's office.

The work was getting done, sure, but somehow they were less efficient than they had been when they'd spent their days making fun of each other and laughing. It didn't help that the workload was getting heavier as Uther trusted less and less of his senior staff and foisted more of their work onto Arthur. He was working late into the evening and at weekends more often than not (times he hated because Dewin wouldn't be at work, so he wouldn't even get the bursts of joy from his emails) and had stopped going out on a Friday night again - not, he told himself, anything to do with Merlin at all, but because he was busy, dammit.

As such, the only time he saw his friends was when they took it in turns to force him - occasionally violently - to have a break and eat lunch. Of course, Morgana also frequently stormed into his office to yell at him about things and demand baked goods, but he preferred to think of her less as a friend and more as a screeching harpy.

By this point it came as less of a surprise than it probably should have done (convinced as Arthur was of Uther's declining mental state - the man had started smiling at employees and drinking grapefruit juice, for fuck's sake) when Uther declared that Halloween was obviously time for an office party.

A fancy dress party.

Needless to say, Arthur was less than pleased when everyone in his department - and, he noticed during his lunch breaks, the rest of the company - spent the entire week in the run up to the party discussing their costumes instead of getting any bloody work done. By the end of the week, he'd scowled so much that where it would before have sent his employees into a scared working frenzy, they now mostly ignored it. Some of them even smiled when he scowled at them. It felt like he was losing his touch, and he didn't like it.

When the day of the party arrived, Arthur - blackmailed into attendance by Uther, of course - was, as usual, working late. As such, by the time he left the office it was time to go straight to the hall Uther had booked out for the occasion, leaving him no time to change. Not that he would have dressed up, he wasn't a fucking child (as he'd tried to tell Uther, though it was difficult to have an argument with a man who would only respond with a single raised eyebrow), but he would have liked to have been wearing something other than his work suit. If he had to go through torture, he wanted to be comfortable while doing so, and was cross that he couldn't.

When he got to the door, Uther grilled him over his lack of costume. Arthur tried very hard to ignore the fact that this was indeed his father dressed as a giant pumpkin, circular body frame, face paint, hat, and all. Arthur discreetly pinched himself, but unfortunately this particular nightmare did in fact appear to be real.

After defending himself with a few hushed comments of "Well if you want me to get the work done then you can't complain when I don't have time to get changed" (carefully not mentioning that he would only have changed into jeans anyway), Arthur entered the room and headed straight towards the alcohol table.

Gwen was standing by it, dressed as a princess in a lovely purple dress that looked gorgeous on her. It also, he knew, matched perfectly with Lance's own knight-in-shining-armour costume (Arthur couldn't count the amount of excited phone calls he'd received extolling the virtues of finally having a reason to wield a sword).

Arthur felt vaguely guilty when it came to Gwen. He liked her very much, he wouldn't have made so much effort to get her and Lance together if he hadn't, but as she was Merlin's best friend, since everything had happened he'd kind of been avoiding her by association, and he felt bad about it. Especially now her and Lance had finally got together, he couldn't help the nagging feeling that he had been a bad friend (though the cruel voice at the back of his mind reminded him that they should be used to it by now).

So, after a quick scan of the room to make sure Merlin was nowhere to be seen, Arthur approached the table that seemed to bend under the weight of so many bottles, and greeted Gwen. They chatted amiably as he poured himself a large double, joking about the inordinate amount of joy that Lance found in wearing a large, heavy and probably quite uncomfortable suit of armour. Arthur had forgotten the woman's dark sense of humour - she was, after all, friends with Morgana for a reason - and allowed her cutting sarcasm to draw a laugh from his lips for the first time in a few days.

It was refreshing. He hadn't realised how much he'd missed this. Also, she carefully hadn't mentioned his lack of costume - something he couldn't have been more grateful for.

"Hey guys." Arthur froze, the laughter dying on his lips as Merlin settled himself next to Gwen, drink in hand. He was dressed not as a wizard, as Arthur had somewhat expected (not that he'd thought about it at all), but in some kind of mediaeval peasant garb - loose brown trousers, a belted purple tunic, a ratty red scarf slung about his neck, and a brown jacket whose sleeves were too long, covering most of his fingers. Arthur thought he was probably dressed according to Gwen and Lance's bizarre little cast of characters, but didn't particularly want to ask.

"It was nice talking to you Gwen, I think I'm going to go find Morgana or something now." The tension in Arthur's shoulders had returned, along with the formality in his voice.

"Arthur, don't go on my account. Please." Merlin sounded tired.

"Why, do you have anything related to work that you need to discuss?"

"No, but you shouldn't just leave every time I turn up. I don't know if you remember, but we used to actually get on quite well."

"What precisely would you like me to say?"

"It's not up to me what you fucking say, I'm just suggesting you give conversation a chance, so -"

"So what, Merlin?" Arthur yelled, the frustration that had built over the previous couple of weeks culminating in this one outburst. "What do you want from me? A pay rise? Promotion? My fucking hand in marriage?"

"Fuck off, no." Merlin responded, easily matching Arthur in tone and volume.

"Then what? What do you want?"

I want to know why you let me fuck you, Merlin thought. I want to know why I slept better in your arms than I have in my own flat since before Will died. I want to know if you fuck all your new assistants, like some twisted kind of welcome ritual. I want to know if you leave them all pancakes when you disappear before they've woken up in the morning. I want to know if it meant anything to you, and why the fuck it matters to me whether it did or not.

Merlin remained silent, and watched as Arthur left with a sneer of scorn.

-----------------

From: [email protected]
To: [email protected]
Subject: How is it December already??

Can't believe how long we've been emailing now.

You have a good weekend?
I decorated a Christmas tree as challenged (EVEN THOUGH IT'S NOWHERE NEAR CHRISTMAS YET), picture is attached. How did you get on making gingerbread?

xxx

From: [email protected]
To: [email protected]
Subject: That's how months work, haven't you ever had a calendar?

Weekend's been all right, Elena was around again. Gingerbread made my flat smell gorgeous, and Elena and Bad-Spy-Friend ate most of it, so couldn't have been too bad!

Very impressed with tree decorating - though I think you lose points for having a colour theme, Christmas trees should be a miscellaneous mish-mash of things that have been collected since birth... It was impressive for a first-timer though (still can't believe you haven't decorated a tree properly before)

It is nearly Christmas, it's only a week and a half away! Less than a week left of work.

xxx

From: [email protected]
To: [email protected]
Subject: I have one, it has naked firemen on. It was a gift.

Colour theme looks so much nicer though! And red and gold are very Christmassy, I don't think you're allowed to deduct points for that.

I wouldn't have been impressed if just Elena ate the gingerbread - remember the treacle tart incident? She ate that, though god knows why. Bad-Spy-Friend seems to have good taste though, so I trust her judgment.

I got bored over the weekend so mad a croquembouche for fun... Only me there to eat it though, so have had to give large sections to the best friend and the sister to get rid of it.

xxx

From: [email protected]
To: [email protected]
Subject: Yeah, a gift FROM YOURSELF ;)

I thought you said we'd never mention the treacle tart incident again - for your sanity as much as mine! It was kind of edible.

Just had to google croquembouche - oh my god! Are you serious, you crazy person? Potter, that looks gorgeous and wonderful - I wish I'd been able to have some. Did it taste good?

xxx

From: [email protected]
To: [email protected]
Subject: Psh, lies.

Oh please, Bond, of course it tasted good.

I wish I could have given you some.

Can we just say fuck the rules and meet already, please?

xxx

From: [email protected]
To: [email protected]
Subject: Remember that time when Psh isn't a word? ;)

You know I really want to. Uther doesn't have to know, does he?

Might have to be after Christmas though, got work all this week then Friday is the anniversary, then visiting home for Christmas.

xxx

From: [email protected]
To: [email protected]
Subject: Thought you told me it was onomatopoeic?

I can wait til after Christmas. I got you a gift, by the way.

What are you doing for the anniversary?>
xxx

From: [email protected]
To: [email protected]
Subject: Don't quote my bullshit back at me

I got you a gift too. It's a bit crap, but I like it.

Elena and I are visiting the grave during the day (I think she's planning a full blown picnic, it's entirely possible I may catch pneumonia), then in the evening a friend is throwing a Christmas meal so I'm going to that. I wasn't sure if I wanted to go, but it's Bad-Spy-Friend, plus I guess it'll help take my mind off it.

Are you gonna be free New Year's Day?

xxx

From: [email protected]
To: [email protected]
Subject: Psh.

If you like it, I'll like it.

Wish I could be there with you at the baffling winter picnic (wrap up warm please, don't want to lose any of your fingers to frostbite), just to... I don't know, hold your hand or something. Oh god, is that ridiculously mushy and disgusting? (If it helps, I would then ravage you in a manly fashion. Possibly in a snowdrift, but possibly somewhere warmer.)

New Year's Day is indeed free - are we really doing this? :)

xxx

From: [email protected]
To: [email protected]
Subject: Re: Psh.

It was pretty damn mushy and disgusting. Much to my revulsion, I kind of liked it. But I will definitely hold you to the ravaging thing.

I think we are really doing this. Do you know the cafe on Avalon Row? It'll be open on Jan 1st...

xxx

From: [email protected]
To: [email protected]
Subject: Re: Re: Psh

I do know it. Shall we say midday?

Oh god, I actually can't wait. Gonna be doing lots of panic baking...

xxx

From: [email protected]
To: [email protected]
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Psh

Midday is perfect.

I'll be wearing pink mittens - they were a gift, but they're so fucking warm.

Can't believe I'm gonna finally get to see you :)

See you soon!

Merry Christmas :)

xxxx

-----------------

November and much of December had passed quickly for Arthur, a repetitive cycle of work, sleep and baking. In fact the only thing that didn't fit into his carefully ordered routine was Dewin. He knew perfectly well that he couldn't keep living his life like this, this monotonous day-to-day, it was a miracle his friends had put up with him for so long.

Something had to change. And on the first of January - after Gwen's Christmas meal, Christmas day spent with his father and Morgana, and the rest of the Christmas holiday spent trying to remember what free time felt like and what one did with it - it would. Knowing Dewin, it would change for the better.

------------------

Arthur had, as per usual, been kept late at work, and arrived at Gwen's about half an hour after he'd said he would. He knocked on the door and gave her an expensive bottle of wine and a large hug when she answered, apologising profusely.

"Really Arthur, we always add around three quarters of an hour onto any time you say you'll be somewhere, so if anything you're early. Early for you, anyway, everyone else is already here. Can I get you a drink at all?"

"Just a coke, please" he said, while hanging his thick woollen coat on the rack and toeing off his shiny leather shoes, as was the custom in Gwen's flat. He was sure she ordered people's shoes off to make them feel more at home, but it always made him feel a bit vulnerable, as if his shoes were a shield and without them his fleshy toes could get stabbed at any moment. At least no one was exempt from the shoe rule, which did mean Morgana couldn't aim for him with her stilettos.

He walked through to the living room to find such a cheerily comfortable scene in front of him, everyone chatting happily to everyone else, that he wasn't quite sure whether it made him feel more at ease or more Bah-Humbug-y.

Percy and his girlfriend were sat on one sofa with Gwen's brother Elyan, and presumably the two men were catching up on everything that had happened since their college days, though Lamia didn't look at all impressed at quite how much more attention Percy was paying to Elyan than to her. Noticing the glint in Elyan's eyes, Arthur couldn't see Percy and Lamia lasting much longer.

Lance, Leon and Morgana were sat on the other sofa, discussing ice hockey teams and tactics - a new obsession of Morgana's, because although the uniforms aren't as tight as in rugby, she enjoyed the violence.

Merlin and Freya, a good-looking canteen girl who was good friends with Gwen, sat on the floor, laughing about something. Arthur looked away quickly, carefully not noticing the movements of Merlin's throat as he laughed or the way his shirt rode up at the back when he sat cross-legged.

Gwen re-entered the room behind him, passing him his drink with a smile and pushing him towards the free armchair before going to sit on Lance's lap, easily joining in with the debate as to whether the Canucks or the Kings were the superior team. Morgana's main line of argument, this from a woman with a keen eye for talent and a clever brain for tactics, seemed to consist of "Yeah, but Kesler's bum."

Arthur sat back in the chair, wiggling his toes and sipping at his drink, observing the company he was in but not quite feeling like he should join in - each conversation seemed so self-contained, he didn't want to butt in where he wasn't wanted, and wondered for a moment if it was normal to feel completely alone in a room full of people. He was just allowing his mind to drift to Dewin, contemplating whether or not the man might be near a computer and therefore whether he could email him and get a reply, because Blackberrys had to be good for something, when a timer went off in the kitchen and Gwen jumped up, telling everyone to go through to the dining room and sit down.

The dining table was nice (wooden and circular) but quite small, and the chairs mismatched, clearly crammed in to fit all of the guests in one place. Everyone scrambled to sit down, excited by the prospect of food, all getting in each other's way but carefully leaving two seats next to each other for Gwen and Lance, who she had roped into helping her carve things and carry things.

Merlin made everyone laugh by joking that he seemed to have at least three times more elbows and knees than anyone else, and Arthur, who, much to his indignation, found himself sitting next to him, was inclined to agree. He had Morgana sitting the other side of him, and resigned himself to an evening of violence from all angles - intentional and accidental.

A cheer went up as Gwen, blushing prettily, carried the cooked goose into the room on a large tray and placed it in the centre of the table, Lance scuttling behind her with various armfuls of vegetables, wine, gravy and all the trimmings and trappings of a fantastic Christmas meal. Meat was carved and served, alcohol poured, side dishes shared, and conversations flowed, punctuated with occasional bursts of gleeful laughter.
Arthur spent most of the meal talking to the people to his right - Morgana, Leon beyond her, and Percival beyond them - keeping his back carefully turned to Merlin, who was laughing with Gwen and Lance. He tried to keep the conversation as lighthearted and carefree as he could, keeping the focus on the others, not himself, and tried not to sneer every time he caught something that Merlin said that got on his nerves.

Because really, who cared that Merlin was getting into gardening and had tried a new type of tea? Dewin liked gardening and tea, and he wouldn't have gone around yelling about it to everyone, for goodness sake. Apparently his reactions hadn't been quite as subtle as he'd thought (or Morgana was ridiculously perceptive, which was of course a very real possibility), as after a while his sister called him on it.

"Honestly Arthur, do you have to sneer at everything? Who do you think you are, Draco bloody Malfoy?"

"I can't be Malfoy, I'm clearly Harry Potter." Arthur chuckled softly to himself as everyone else at the table glanced around at each other, each wondering if this was a particular joke they'd missed that everyone else was in on. Eventually it was Gwen who asked what everyone had been wondering.

"Um, Arthur. You're blonde, you sneer, and you may well be evil. How on earth are you even slightly Harry Potter?"

"Oh, sorry. It's an in-joke with a friend" Morgana looked carefully at everyone in the room, but they all had equally blank looks on their faces.

"You have friends? Like, ones that aren't us?"

"Yeah, my penpal, you know from that thing at work?" Lance, having heard far too much about Arthur's penpal, nodded knowingly. The girls were still confused.

"But why does he call you Harry Potter?"

"Oh, it's a long story. We were setting these challenges for each other, and ended up joking that I was Potter and he was James Bond." A couple of people had lost interest in the conversation and were talking amongst themselves. Gwen and Morgana were respectively questioning and making fun of Arthur. Lance was once more concentrating on the food in front of him. But Merlin sat stock still, eyes wide in disbelief.

"It's a funny story actually, we had been talking about -"

"Excuse me for a minute guys, sorry. Just need some fresh air." Merlin interrupted Arthur, earning himself a glare, but paid no attention and met no one's eyes as he rose up out of his seat and walked out.

The table was silent for a few moments after Merlin left the room, and Gwen stared at his empty seat with a sad look on her face.

"Sorry about that, guys." She said, finally. "He's having a rough day. Just carry on with your food, I'll go and speak to him in a bit."

"Oh, rough day, huh?" Arthur couldn't help but sneer. "Has he finally decided he can't put up with looking at our faces anymore?"

"Arthur, will you fucking give it a break?" Gwen snapped, shocking everyone in the room. "You really want to know? It's the anniversary of his best friend's death, okay? They grew up together, practically brothers, lived together, then one night Merlin was woken by sirens and a knock at the door at three in the morning to tell him his best friend had been hit by a drunk driver and killed. Even now he can't sleep in silence because he has nightmares, he has to fall asleep listening to audiobooks otherwise he's convinced he'll get another knock at the door. Are you fucking happy now? Is that what you wanted to hear?"

Arthur was, for once, speechless. Naturally, it didn't last long.

"What... What sort of audiobooks?"

"I don't know, fucking Harry Potter or something, I think. Really? All of that, and what you got from it was audiobooks?"

"Excuse me for a minute. I just need to -" Arthur didn't bother making an excuse to leave, he just pushed his chair back and walked out of the door, leaving behind him a sea of surprised faces. Morgana was the first to speak.

"I don't know if I'm more surprised by Arthur being speechless, or impressed by Gwen for causing it..."

Arthur stepped quietly onto the balcony and stood next to Merlin, leaning against the railing and gazing out over the lights of the city.

"Gwen told me it's the anniversary of your friend's death. It's Will, isn't it?" He asked softly.

Merlin, whose head was in his hands, didn't reply for so long that Arthur almost thought he hadn't heard. Then, without moving his hands or looking up, he nodded.

"Which means you're Dewin, doesn't it?"

Merlin nodded again, then glanced sideways at Arthur and said "Actually it's pronounced 'Deh-winn', not 'Due-win'."

"You're shitting me, right? I've been pronouncing it wrong for months?" He allowed a grin, and saw an answering small smile appear on Merlin's face. "What does it mean anyway?"

"Really? You never bothered to Google it? It's Welsh, it means wizard."

Arthur smirked. "That makes sense. 'Mort' was a reference to Le Mort D'Arthur, but I guess you've figured that one out by now."

"Yeah, pretty much clicked as soon as you mentioned the Potter and Bond thing. For all neither of us want to be associated with the legends, we kinda can't escape them, huh?"
"Guess not."

They stood in awkward silence for a while, each staring out across the nighttime cityscape and carefully avoiding each other's eyes as they tried not to shiver too obviously in the winter cold.

Finally, inevitably, it was Arthur who couldn't bear the silence for a moment more.

"So what the hell happens now?"

Merlin sighed, lifting his eyes - clear blue pools filled with sadness - to meet Arthur's for the first time since he'd walked onto the balcony.

"What did you expect would happen? Dewin likes Mort, but Arthur hates Merlin. And has done for months now, and I don't even know why. So I guess what happens is we go back to our normal lives and forget it ever happened, because I don't know about you but I can't see a way of getting past this."

Arthur gaped, shocked to find himself speechless for the second time in less than half an hour, and could do no more than stand and stare as Merlin directed a small, defeated smile his way, then turned and left. Arthur tried to protest, to call him back, to follow, to scream, but found his body frozen, his vocal chords still and silent.

He just needed more time. He didn't know what to do, or even what he wanted to do; he was still trying to process the massive bombshell that Dewin - the man who cheered up his life, and made him laugh, and made him want to do something with his time other than work and sleep, the man he'd recently started trying to avoid the 'L' word in relation to, because hell, they'd never even met - was in fact Merlin - the man he'd felt an instant attraction to, fucked, then felt guilty and treated like shit. The man who'd just walked out with the instruction to forget it all ever happened.

Arthur didn't want to forget it all. He'd expected to meet Dewin in person, fall in the 'L' word for real, and live happily ever after in a house. With a dog. Not that he'd spent ages thinking about it, because he wasn't a girl or anything, just... Well, it didn't matter, because then Merlin happened. And dammit, this wasn't how it was supposed to end.

When he went back inside, Merlin had left and everyone else was - quite rightly, he supposed - looking at him suspiciously. He finished the meal with them with the minimum amount of talking he could manage, then left, claiming to have a headache. He needed to think. This wasn't how it was supposed to end at all.

------------------

From: [email protected]
To: [email protected]
Subject: Can we talk?

Dear Dewin. No, scratch that.

Dear Merlin,

Look, I know it's been a few days since everything came out, but I've needed to think. It's been difficult. Shut up, I know what you're going to say - it's not the thinking that's difficult, just the whole stupid situation.

I find it easier to get my thoughts straight on paper rather than in person, so I thought emailing you would help.

Here's the thing - I've spent the last couple of months completely falling for you/Dewin, that much is obvious, right? And I'm pretty sure you like me/Mort too. But I don't hate you/Merlin, though I can see how it might seem like I do. This is the complicated bit.

Okay, so me/Mort and you/Dewin were starting to get on well, and I started to get that stupid feeling in my stomach every time I got an email, and it had been so long since I'd felt like that, I figured I'd see what happened, you know? Maybe let someone in.

Then you/Merlin happened, with your ears, and your cheekbones, and your stupid neck... The neck is cheating, okay? And you made me laugh, and I wanted you, and then everything happened.

And I felt like such a dickhead - I'd just decided to see where this flirtation-y thing went with you/Dewin, then I ruined it all - as I always fucking do - by letting my cock rule my brain. So I was a complete arsehole and took it out on you/Merlin.

The problem wasn't that I hated you, but that I liked you. Oh this is too fucking confusing.

Look, long story short - I want both of you. I want you.

This is ridiculous, I'm not even making sense to myself here - so much for it being easier via email. You won't even get it til after Christmas and by then it'll probably be too late.

Fuck it, I'm coming round, okay?

I think I love you.

Arthur

-----------------------------------

It had just started to snow as Arthur left his building and he panicked, suddenly remembering that it was Christmas Eve and that the roads and the trains would be fucked up. He ran back inside and had returned within two minutes, carrying the bicycle that he hadn't touched since summer. There was no way this could go wrong...

By the time he pulled up outside of Merlin's house, he was soaking wet (not to mention sore) from the snow that had quickly turned into far less romantic and exceptionally more painful hail, and had blood leaking from the hole in the left knee of his trousers from one of the three times he managed to skid and fall over. Were it not for the fact that his muscles were aching and his legs had turned to jelly from cycling so far for the first time in so long, he would have given it up as a bad job, turned round and headed home.

But no, he needed to do this. And he needed to do it now or never.

Arthur, having dropped his bike unceremoniously onto the pavement, let himself in through the side gate to the garden, and walked unsteadily up the flight of steps to the door of Merlin's flat. Taking a deep breath, he knocked and waited.

And waited.

After seven and a half tense minutes (not that he was counting or anything), he knocked again, this time banging his fist harder against the door, louder and more insistent, as he cursed his bad luck and useless timing.

This time, though, he heard a response - a muffled yell of "Hang on, I'll be there in a second!" Moments later the door was thrown open to reveal Merlin, panting from running to open the door, dripping wet and naked save for an excruciatingly small towel slung around his hips that he clutched to keep closed at the side.
Arthur gaped, and once more lost the use of not only his word-forming abilities, but also his capacity for sensible thought.

"Um, Arthur? I was kind of in the shower. Can I help you with something?"

Arthur jolted into the realisation of what a sight he must look - drenched, bleeding, and staring like an idiot at that drip of water that was slowly finding its way down Merlin's sternum towards the flat of his stomach. Merlin shifted uncomfortably under his gaze, and Arthur decided it couldn't exactly get worse, he should say what he came here to say.

"I hate you because I like you."

"I beg your pardon?" Merlin looked offended.

"Uh, I cheated on you. With- with you." Arthur stammered, wondering why none of this was quite going how he'd intended.

"Arthur, I don't know if you think this is helping, but believe me, it's not."

"Fuck. Well, I was falling for you, then sex, and... And neck is cheating. And I blamed you, but it was me, but I didn't know... Because you weren't you, then suddenly you're you, and it's -"

Merlin raised one eyebrow, looking distinctly unimpressed with Arthur's rambling, baffling stream of consciousness. He looked dangerously close to closing the door in Arthur's face.

"Oh shitting hell. Look, Merlin, have you got a towel or something? It's fucking freezing out here!"

Merlin seemed to notice the extent to which Arthur was shivering by this point, and reluctantly stepped back to allow him to enter. Having shut the door behind them both, Merlin quickly walked away in the direction of his bedroom, so Arthur stood awkwardly in the entrance to the living room, assuming that he shouldn't follow but not quite sure what to do with himself.

"Go make a cup of tea or something, everything's in the kitchen." Merlin said over his shoulder. "I'll just be a minute."

Arthur trudged into the kitchen, trying not to drip on too much, and felt vaguely embarrassed that he still knew exactly where everything was from his one short previous experience with this kitchen. He filled and turned on the kettle, warmed the pot under the hot tap, selected two teabags of Russian Caravan to drop into it, and prepared two cups with sugar and milk, ready for the tea to be poured straight in.

He wanted to serve something with the tea, and realised he probably should have baked something before he came - a peace offering, if you will. He wondered if it would be terrifically bad form to bake someone a peace offering in their own kitchen with their own ingredients, but was interrupted from that train of thought by the reappearance of Merlin, who'd thrown on a cosy looking pair of grey joggers and a faded tee shirt, in which he looked annoyingly delectable. He was also carrying the fluffiest, most inviting looking blue towel Arthur had ever seen.

"Here," he said. "Dry yourself off. You'll want to clean that knee too, and I've left some dry clothes in the bathroom. They'll probably be a bit small for you, but they're the best I've got. I'll finish off the tea."

Arthur took the towel with a smile of gratitude - not trusting his mouth to even say 'thank you' without betraying him - and left the kitchen, heading towards the bathroom.

He stripped, rubbed himself all over vigorously with the towel, and cleaned the graze on his knee, covering it with savlon and a plaster he found in one of the cupboards. He then dressed in the clothes Merlin had put out - another pair of joggers, red this time, that felt soft and worn on the inside, and a hoody that was slightly large on Arthur and as such must have drowned Merlin. Arthur tried not to focus on the mental image of Merlin looking small, fragile and - dare he say it - adorable in an overly large hoody, splashed a little warm water on his face, steeled himself, and walked back to the living room.

Merlin was sat on the sofa sipping at his cup of tea, so Arthur sat next to him and reached for his own mug, studying the faded pink Power Ranger design on it instead of Merlin's face.

"Arthur?" Merlin said softly. "Do you want to tell me why you're here?" Arthur took a deep breath, and hoped that this time it would come out in a way that Merlin might understand.

"I don't hate you, okay? I was cross with myself, and I took it out on you, and that wasn't fair, and I'm sorry. Okay, so I liked this penpal person, and I wanted to see how it went with him, then you happened, and I felt like I'd cheated on him, which was you, with - well, you. So I was a complete arsehole because I'd fucked it up like usual. Then I got convinced that you'd only slept with me because you wanted to further yourself in the company -"

"You know that's complete bullshit, right? That's not me at all, you should know that."

"Yes, I do, but it's happened an embarrassing number of times, okay? I have it kind of ingrained into my brain that people don't want me for me, they want me for my position within the company, and that's why it was so nice to have this penpal interested in me - because he had no idea who I was and liked me anyway. And anyway, I had to find something bad about you, because I liked you, and wanted you, but didn't want to screw up this thing with the penpal. I let you fuck me for god's sake, that never happens. I don't even know why, there's just... There's just something about you. So that's the thing - I wasn't a twat because I hated you, I was a twat because I liked you, and I didn't know how to deal with it. And now you and Dewin are the same person, and... And I think I'm falling in love with you, and I don't quite know what to do with that, and -"

"Arthur, stop." Merlin had to interrupt, he figured it'd be cruel to let Arthur carry on rambling for too much longer. "Can we still do the challenge thing, like in the emails?"

"Um, yeah I guess, why?"

Merlin allowed a slow smile to emerge on his face. "Because I'm going to set you a challenge. I challenge you to shut the hell up and fucking kiss me already."

It was completely worth it for the utterly shocked expression on Arthur's face, and for the perfect blinding grin that followed it. It was even more worth it when Arthur leaned forward, quickly closing the gap between them, and pressed his lips softly to Merlin's. They moved slowly together, revelling in sharing breath, and lips, and gentle, unhurried touches. When they finally pulled away, they just sat and looked at each other in awe, as if they couldn't quite believe that this was happening, but were really fucking glad that it was.

"Right," said Merlin, "you finish your cup of tea, then I reckon we should start making up for lost time, okay?" Arthur didn't seem averse to that idea at all. "Oh, and so you know? I'm falling in love with you too."

Arthur spluttered out the large mouthful of tea he'd just started, and tried very hard not to choke. "What? You can't tell me that when I'm drinking tea!"

"Why not? I think tea is an equally suitable accompaniment for good news and bad news." If Arthur didn't know better, he would have thought Merlin's grin looked decidedly evil.

"Yes, but that's a serious conversation type statement, not an offhand comment when someone's trying to drink a cup of tea!"

Somehow, it was actually quite fitting that their first argument as a couple was about declarations of probably-love and nice, good quality, Russian Caravan tea. And after all, it was followed by pretty fucking mindblowing make-up sex. Three rounds of it, actually, about which neither of them felt even slightly guilty.

--------------------------

It wasn't until New Year's Eve that they actually exchanged Christmas gifts.

On Christmas Day Merlin woke up alone once more, and panicked for a moment before he looked up to see Arthur leaning against the doorway, balancing a plate piled high with pancakes on one hand and two mugs of tea in the other, a fond smile on his lips as he watched Merlin rub his eyes and stretch. Merlin wasn't sure what he wanted to do first, eat the pancakes or rip his own boxers from Arthur's body. He settled for pancakes first - wouldn't want them to get cold, after all.

They ate breakfast in bed together, curled around each other, touching and feeding each other at every disgustingly cute opportunity. After their food they explored each other's bodies in the morning light, exchanging lazy hand jobs and deep kisses. They spoke softly and laughed and made fun of each other, and it wasn't until 11am that they remembered it was actually Christmas Day, and Arthur needed to get to his father's for enforced family bonding time.

He left wearing Merlin's boxers underneath his clothes, and Merlin's hoody over them, with a long lingering kiss and a promise to see him as soon as he could. Which was of course not as soon as either of them wanted.

Arthur enjoyed his Christmas lunch a lot more than he expected to. Partly because both Morgana and Uther absolutely loved the christmas pudding he'd started preparing months before, but mainly because Morgana had finally got out of him the reason he looked happy for once - Merlin. She then proceeded to spend the next half hour talking about how wonderful they'd be together, and how good they would be for each other. A large amount of it was less than complimentary ("He won't actually put up with your bullshit", "He'll stop you from being such a grumpy bastard" and Arthur's personal favourite "Finally, someone else who gets the joy of dealing with you when you're being a vain, self-pitying twat! I still get first dibs on lemon tarts though."), but Arthur appreciated it nonetheless.

Uther, meanwhile, sat with a smug grin on his face throughout the meal, telling Arthur it was all down to his wonderful penpal scheme, as if he'd planned in excruciating detail for this to happen. Arthur carefully didn't mention that if it weren't for the penpal scheme he and Merlin would have been together months ago, but honestly wouldn't have put it past Uther to have strategised the entire thing with the intention to teach him a lesson or something. He shook his head and tried not to think about it.

That evening, Merlin had gone to Gaius's for Christmas dinner, so Arthur stayed at his father's with Morgana, where the three of them drank good scotch and played cards, betting with pennies and tuppences like they had when Arthur was a child. He enjoyed it more than he would have cared to admit.

First thing in the morning on Boxing Day, Merlin hopped on a train to his hometown in Wales to stay with his mother for a few days. He and Arthur texted every day and spoke on the phone each night, despite Hunith's jibes that they were clearly an old married couple already. On the last evening he was there, she insisted on speaking to Arthur and took the phone into a different room. Merlin had no idea what happened in that particular conversation, only that his mother came back into the room laughing and wiping a tear away. She nodded approvingly at him as she handed the phone back, so he took that to be a good sign.

On January 31st, Merlin hopped back on a train home, and instead of getting off at his own stop, got off at the stop nearest Arthur's apartment. He carried his bags through the cold, quiet streets, and rang the buzzer for Arthur's flat number, hoping he had the right building.
"Hello?"

"Hey Arthur, it's me."

"Merlin? I thought you weren't getting back til this evening?"

"I took an earlier train and didn't bother stopping off at mine, and it's really cold, you wanna open the door?"

"Oh god yeah, sorry, come on up."

Arthur met him in the doorway and held and kissed him as if he'd been away for months, not mere days.

When Merlin was finally allowed to enter the flat, he was taken aback by how nice it was - large, clean, light, tastefully furnished - though, he supposed, knowing Arthur, he shouldn't have been surprised. (Arthur later came to the realisation that his flat felt so much more like home when it had piles of Merlin's books strewn haphazardly on the floor, Merlin's raggedly old red blanket heaped on the sofa ready for them to cuddle under while watching a film, Merlin himself sat at the counter in the kitchen, eating whatever Arthur had just finished baking and making a general mess of things.)

After Merlin had dumped all of his stuff in Arthur's bedroom (because there was no point even pretending to make up the guest room) and shamelessly stolen a hoody to warm himself up (Arthur had been right, he did look adorable in oversized clothes), the two sat huddled together on the sofa, drinking tea (nice plain Tetleys, thank you very much) and talking about their Christmases.

After a while, Merlin's smile started to grow devious and when Arthur, suspiciously, asked why, he announced that it was most definitely present time. And so, they separated, each going to liberate gifts from their respective hiding places and meeting back at the sofa to gaze questioningly at the package in the other's hands.

After only a few rude jokes about wanting each other's packages (they were grown men, after all), the gifts were exchanged. The one Merlin gave to Arthur was in two parts, a large box and a smaller one, wrapped in gaudy red paper with cartoon reindeer on. He opened the larger one first, finding a transparent cake box inside, which held a very tasty looking cake.

"It's lemon drizzle," Merlin said, looking uncertain. "I figured I'd try to make one, I hope it's ok."

"I'm sure it's wonderful, we can have it this evening."

The second package held a CD - the audiobook of Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire. Arthur looked up at Merlin, who had gone scarlet.

"I know it's stupid, but I figured, you know, if I was going to be staying over here more often, it might come in handy. I mean, I sleep so much better when you're there anyway, but just in case I have a bad night or something, you know? Oh god, this was a bad idea, I'm sorry, I'm low on money this year so I figured I'd go for something meaningful instead, and I got it before I knew you were Mort otherwise I might have gotten something else, and -"

Arthur suddenly realised, this was not a gift for him - it was a gift for their future together. A gift to say that he was in it for the long haul, that he was planning on staying over frequently, that one day, who knew, they might move in together. He interrupted Merlin's tirade with a quick kiss to the lips and smiled.

"It's wonderful, stop babbling. After all, who wouldn't want to fall asleep to Stephen Fry's voice?" Merlin's answering grin was answer enough.

The present Arthur gave to Merlin was small and flat, and he removed the wrapping paper (classy stripes, of course) to find that it was an envelope. He looked suspiciously up at Arthur, who merely gestured for him to continue, then lifted the flap and slid out the thin slip of paper inside. It was a voucher for a tea tasting experience day at Twinings, including the opportunity to create his own tea blend with one of their master blenders, and Merlin stared at Arthur, his jaw practically on his knees.

"Is it okay? I know it's not much..."

"Are you fucking kidding me? It's perfect! You're perfect."

"Oh, um. I'm glad you like it."

"Now how about we move this to the bedroom so that I can thank you properly?"

"Why, Merlin, I do think that's the best idea you've had all day."

That night, as the clock struck midnight, Arthur and Merlin watched the fireworks across the city out of the large windows in the living room and drank champagne. They grinned at each other and clinked their glasses, their free hands linked tightly together, presenting a united front to whatever the hell the year to come decided to throw at them. They toasted to their friends, to happiness, to each other, to love, and to the future - to their future.

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