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Reservations and Revelations
He sees his mother first, visiting her for tea over the weekend. His birthday is midweek this year and who knows what work will throw at him on Tuesday. Last year he'd not even remembered until his uncle had texted him; this year he is sort of hoping everyone will forget. He’d loved the attention as a child, but as he grows older, he’s decided he prefers quieter acknowledgements.
But his mother will never forget his birthday, and deep down, Merlin is glad. It doesn’t matter that the hat and gloves she knitted are slightly too big, both will be welcome on cold winter mornings walking to and from the Tube. The new kettle is nicer than any he's had, and the tea and biscuits she packed with it will remind him of home. They enjoy his favorite dinner and watch her favorite show together. Between his schedule and her health, he is happy he can spend such time with her.
Gaius calls the next day to invite him to dinner. "You're going to be twenty-five!" he says. "That's a quarter century, Merlin. A momentous occasion in a young man’s life.”
Merlin rolls his eyes. He has no plans for the day, though he'd thought about texting Arthur. He is still trying to navigate whatever it is they’re doing—working together, shagging, dating?—and isn't sure how to approach their time off. Since they work together, is time off meant to be apart? Does Arthur want to see him outside of work? They’ve had a few weekend hookups after overtime in the office or work-related functions, but Merlin still isn't sure and accepts his uncle’s invitation to Sunday dinner. When Arthur texts him a question about work with a casual question about his plans for the day, he almost considers asking him along, but then decides it is way too soon for that, if ever.
Gaius gives him a book, as he often does given Merlin’s love for reading, but this book is different than the others. Large and leather bound, it is clearly old and well-used. “It’s time you started learning more about your magic,” the old man says. “Stop hiding it and start using it again.”
"You sound like mum," Merlin grumbles, even though he knows his uncle is right. He rarely uses his magic these days, not since he left Ealdor and that life behind. It has been over a year since he moved to London, but instead of learning more from Gaius, Merlin has grown comfortable simply letting it go. He sometimes misses it, but he doesn’t miss the strange looks, the bullying, the inherent risk of being a magic user in a world that hardly believes in magic anymore.
"And someday you'll probably sound like her too," Gaius laughs. "It happens to everyone, and it’s called getting old.” He taps the book. “You came to London in part to learn, Merlin. You have a gift, and I do wish you’d let me help you with it.”
“I like being normal, Gaius,” Merlin sighs. “I don’t need magic to work at the law firm and live a good life here in London.” Which is true, he’s enjoying what he’s built for himself in London. Magic would only complicate that, and inevitably lead to more loss. He holds up a hand to stop his uncle, since he knows exactly what the older man will say. It is a conversation they’ve had many times. “And since it’s my birthday, how about we skip the lectures this time? Didn’t you say there was ice cream?"
Gaius sighs. “Of course there is, I got your favorite. But I have something else for you. It’s a bit less serious, but I do hope you like it.”
He hands Merlin a second gift that turns out to be a Star Wars lunchbox. Merlin can’t help but grin; it is almost as useless as a book of magic, but much more fun.
"Thank you," he says, admiring the old-fashioned metal contraption that can barely hold a healthy meal for a ten-year-old boy, let alone a twenty-five-year-old man.
"You're welcome," Gaius replies. "Your mother said you lost your favorite one when you moved, so I when someone brought it into the shop, I knew I had to keep it.”
Merlin doesn’t tell him it had been a Dungeons and Dragons lunchbox he'd once had, a gag gift from his friends in university given his fondness for dragons, or that he'd got rid of it along with whole boxes of stuff when he'd left Ealdor. He hadn't cared at the time, though in hindsight he wishes he'd had the presence of mind to hold on to a few more of his belongings. Now, at least, he has a reminder of one.
"I love it," he says. “Feels like I’m a kid again.” Gaius suggests they watch one of the original films, which Merlin appreciates as the prequels never caught his fancy. They have mint chocolate chip ice cream and Gaius asks if he has any plans for Tuesday.
Merlin has no plans for Tuesday. He hasn’t said anything to anyone at work and doubts they know his birthday is that week. Merlin does not expect them to know, or to do anything. He’s only been working there for ten months, and though he has grown close to his small team over those months, he is still reluctant to share much about himself. He is too used to keeping secrets, and he is fine with that. It’s easier than getting hurt. As far as Merlin is concerned, his birthday is a normal day for everyone, though if he’s feeling up to it maybe he'll stop at his local for a few pints to celebrate.
Monday is a typically busy day at the law firm where he works as a legal assistant, and Merlin hopes Tuesday will be the same. But as it turns out, his entire team does, in fact, know it’s his birthday.
It starts first thing in the morning. Merlin is making himself a cup of tea in the reception area when Gwen and Morgana walk into the suite of offices they share. Gwen is carrying five cups of coffee from Merlin’s favorite café. He looks down at the steeping mug of tea in his hand and sets it down with a grin, since whatever Gwen has brought will certainly be better than his standard office cuppa.
"Happy birthday!" Gwen exclaims, setting everything on her desk—she is their secretary and works in the reception area—before throwing her arms around Merlin. She squeezes him hard, and he makes an exaggerated strangling sound. He grins when she backs away with an apology; she is so easy to fluster, and he loves her for it. She is one of the kindest people he knows, as well as hard working and efficient.
"Thank you," he tells her. "Though it’s really just another day."
"No, it’s not, it's your birthday!" she replies. "And you're a quarter century old so it's extra special." Merlin rolls his eyes with fondness; sometimes Gwen reminds him so much of Freya it hurts.
"My uncle said the same thing at dinner on Sunday," he tells her. "I'm still not sure whether it's a good thing or a bad thing."
“It’s definitely a good thing,” she says. She turns and picks out a cup from the coffee tray, his usual order, and hands it to him with a small gift bag he hadn’t noticed. “So enjoy your special day!” Merlin tries not to wince at the attention; fortunately taking a sip of the coffee makes him smile.
“Perfect,” he murmurs. “Thank you.” He takes another sip and waits.
“Go on, open the bag, too!” Gwen exclaims.
He sets his cup down and reaches into the gift bag to pull out a pound of ground coffee. It is high-end, not something he’d ever buy for himself, a dark roast with a hint of hazelnut. “Brilliant!” he exclaims and pulls her into another hug. “So much better than instant!”
“Of course it is,” Gwen huffs. “And you deserve it. Lance picked it out, he knows coffee better than I do. He said you should get a grinder and use whole beans, but I told him you’re not nearly as serious about it as him, no one is. And he wishes you a very happy birthday as well.”
“Tell him thank you, and who knows, maybe I’ll be ready for whole beans by forty.”
“You’ll be grinding them by thirty,” Morgana says then, coming over to give him a quick embrace and two air kisses, as is her style. She is one of the solicitors on their small team, working alongside her brother Arthur with Merlin assisting them both with their cases. When she steps back, she hands him another gift bag. "Happy birthday, Merlin."
Merlin thanks her and turns to set it down with Gwen’s gift, sure he’ll get a good response from one of them at least.
"Open it!" says Gwen almost immediately, practically bouncing on her toes this time. "Please, let’s see.”
He exchanges a smile with Morgana and opens the bag to find a bottle of very expensive red wine.
"Oh, perfect!” Gwen laughs. “Something for the morning and something for the evening! Although maybe you can share the wine with someone special tonight." There is a curious look on her face, but is that because she knows about Arthur, or because she wonders if he is seeing anyone?
"Thank you," he tells them both. "For the coffee and the wine. Maybe we can open the bottle later and share it here, end of the day sort of thing."
"Don't you have plans for later?" Morgana asks slyly. Even after ten months, he still can’t read her—if anyone knows about him and Arthur it will be his sister— but Gwaine comes stomping through the door then.
"Are we doing this already?" he asks. “Excellent!” He hands Merlin a plastic sack with a six pack of beer. "Happy birthday, mate. Have some better beverages to celebrate," he adds with a dismissive wave at the bottle of wine. He reminds Merlin of Will then, who always preferred a good pint at the pub.
Gwaine works security for the firm but seems to spend more time in their office than any other. Somehow, they had become almost instant friends, bonding over their shared experience of moving away from home after hard times and starting over in London. The beer is a local brew, one that he and Gwaine had shared many times. In fact, Merlin is pretty sure they'd been drinking it on Gwaine's birthday a few months back, when they'd got so shit-faced that Merlin had ended up crashing on Gwaine’s couch. It feels appropriate that Gwaine has gifted it for Merlin’s birthday, and Merlin grins as he shakes his friend’s hand, before being pulled into a warm hug.
"Thanks, Gwaine. I appreciate it."
“Don’t drink it all at once,” Gwaine replies. “Remember how that turned out last time!”
“Oh, do tell,” Morgana says immediately. “There must be a good story there if Gwaine is telling you to drink less.”
Gwaine winks at her. “A man never drinks and tells.”
“I thought it was kiss and tell?” Morgana replies.
“That too.” And he wiggles his eyebrows ridiculously.
"Gwaine," says Gwen, but she doesn’t seem to know how to finish the rebuke, because she shakes her head and points toward the takeaway cups on her desk. "We got coffee for everyone, but where's Arthur?" She glances around with a frown.
"Wasn't here when I got in," Merlin replies, sipping at his coffee. They'd got his order perfect, and it is a brilliant way to start the day, drinking with his co-workers and friends. Except for Arthur being gone, of course, but he isn't going to let the others know that, so he shrugs his disappointment away. "Could be upstairs already." His father works several floors up, and Arthur is frequently summoned to the elder Pendragon’s office.
Arthur appears then with impeccable timing, contradicting Merlin perfectly and carrying a box of pastries. He stops in the doorway when he sees them all standing around.
"Last minute gift run, Pendragon?" Gwaine teases. "We've covered coffee, beer, and wine, so that doesn’t leave much."
There is a sofa, table, and two chairs in the reception area and Arthur shakes his head as he sets the box down on the table before turning to them. "I got something last week," he says, surprising them all. "Something that is, in fact, not a consumable liquid. And I’m sorry I’m late to the party, but I stopped for pastries. Happy birthday!" He takes a step toward Merlin, arms coming up, then stops awkwardly, one hand going to his pockets, the other running through his hair with an almost sheepish smile. Merlin wonders what the others think of Arthur's aborted attempt at a hug, but it is probably for the best, lest the others suspect something. Arthur is not the type to go around hugging people, particularly Merlin.
Not that him and Arthur are a big secret, but they are. Secret. Or private, rather. Merlin doesn’t want or need his coworkers gossiping about him and Arthur, since he knows perfectly well at this point what they'd all say. Gwen would be concerned for Merlin's emotional well-being given Arthur is, admittedly, a bit of a prat at times; Morgana would want all the details of their clandestine hookups, and Gwaine would never miss a chance to take the piss and give Merlin a hard time about sleeping with the boss. Which is something Merlin has thought about enough given the many issues involved and doesn’t need Gwaine pointing out as well, even if the other man is a bit of a slag himself judging by the stories he tells.
Merlin sets all those thoughts aside and smiles, hoping no one in the room is having a psychic moment and can read his thoughts. He often wonders about Morgana, as she watches everything so intently and is watching him and Arthur right now with narrowed eyes; he’s even wondered if she might have magic.
"Thank you," he says. "They'll go perfect with the coffee Gwen brought." He walks past Arthur to the sofa, resisting the urge to brush against him and sensing the same from Arthur. Taking his favorite pastry from the box, a gooey mess of fruit and sugar, he sits down, feeling remarkably content, all things considered. He’d not expected anything, and even simple coffee and pastries fills his heart. It had been a challenging adjustment, moving to London, but he finally feels like he’s found his place.
Gwen hands Arthur his coffee, and he thanks her before turning back to Merlin. "So coffee, wine, and beer?" he says. "Sounds like you won the trifecta."
"A cabernet sauvignon, coffee from Dolci & Amaro, and the cheapest beer Gwaine could find at Tesco.” Merlin nods in agreement. “Quite a haul."
"Hey!" Gwaine exclaims. "You know damn well that stuff is not cheap. And if it's not appreciated, then I'll take it back and drink it myself."
Merlin grins as Morgana sits down in one of the chairs next to the sofa. Usually, the waiting area is for clients, but on days when it’s slow they will sit and drink coffee and gossip together; it’s how Merlin met Gwaine, on one of his many breaks in their office. "He's winding you up, Gwaine,” Morgana says. “We all know Merlin likes a good cuppa and an even better pint."
"Cheers," Merlin replies, raising his coffee cup.
"So, who's the wine for then?" Gwaine wonders through a mouthful of apple pastry.
"Me," Merlin answers. "Something posh now and then, a bit of culture."
"Didn't Gwen say you had plans to share it later?"
Merlin almost spits out his food, takes a drink instead, and shakes his head. "No, no plans. It’s a workday, after all."
"I'm sure you could find someone to share it with," Gwen says, sitting next to him and reaching into the box for something to eat. Merlin doesn’t miss the sly look she exchanges with Morgana.
"Er, maybe," Merlin murmurs. He’s been avoiding Arthur's gaze as much as possible since sitting down but can’t resist glancing up. Arthur is standing with his arms crossed, not glaring at him but watching thoughtfully. He turns around and picks up the wine bottle beside the coffee, studying the label.
"Nice choice,” he says, setting it back down. “I like wine. Do you want to open my gift?"
"That depends," Merlin says, caught off guard by both comments and slightly nervous. It’s doubtful Arthur had got him anything soppy or sentimental, something that might give away their sort-of relationship; that doesn’t seem in character for either one of them. And he doesn’t think it will be anything embarrassing either, despite their frequent name-calling and back and forth teasing. "Is it more work?”
Arthur rolls his eyes as he walks away. "No, but I looked for that." He steps into his own office and is back in no time, looking excited but clearly trying to hide it.
There are two boxes, one large and one small, each impeccably wrapped with a dark red ribbon. Merlin raises an eyebrow, but Gwaine says something before Merlin can remark. "Did you wrap those yourself? Because if you can do that, you can do a lot more than boss us around like a prince all the time."
Gwen snorts, then covers her mouth in embarrassment. Morgana tells Arthur he's clearly outdone them all and gives him another shrewd look that makes her brother swallow. Merlin takes a deep breath to calm his nerves, though he still isn’t sure what he’s so nervous about.
He unties the ribbon from the boxes, then pretends to study them, even shakes them before looking at Arthur curiously. Gwen is once again bouncing her leg in anticipation.
"The bigger one first," Arthur tells him. "Because then—well, never mind. You can open the bigger one." He stops babbling as Merlin take the paper off, not caring about preserving it although the thought of doing it slowly, folding it and setting it aside while they all watch and wait does cross his mind. However, he's never been good at that sort of thing—he does have his moments of impatience, after all—and he isn't one to reuse the paper, so he rips it off and tosses it on the floor.
It is a shirt box from one of the most upscale stores in town, and inside wrapped in tissue is a beautiful blue button-down shirt, with French cuffs and forward point collar. Laid on top is a deep burgundy tie with diagonal thin stripes in blue and gold. It is high quality, handsome, and exactly something he'd pick out for himself if he were splurging. Which he doesn’t, not on clothes, and not on anything since moving to London. Merlin is impressed. And he is touched, that Arthur had made an effort to find something so nice.
"Thank you," he says as he examines the tie. "It's brilliant."
"Oh, it's gorgeous," Gwen gushes, reaching out to run a hand along the soft silk. "It suits you perfectly, Merlin. They’re your colors. I'm impressed, Arthur." She says it teasingly, but they are all thinking it. Arthur looks slightly smug.
"I might not have wrapped it, but I did pick it out. Thought it would look good when—" He stops himself again, not seeing the knowing look that Gwen and Morgana share. Merlin sees it though; they must suspect something. "Never mind. Um, you can go ahead and open the other one. If you want."
"Maybe it's a matching—" Gwaine starts, but Gwen stops him. Merlin wonders what the other man might have said; probably something wildly inappropriate, given the way Gwaine usually thinks.
He opens the smaller box to find a carved wooden dragon, about the size of his fist, similar to one he’d had for years and lost in the move to London. It was newer, unmarked by the scuffs of time—different yet immediately as special.
"You remembered," Merlin murmurs softly. "What I said."
"When?" asks Gwen, ignoring the silence around them as Merlin runs his index finger along the dragon’s spine, across delicately carved wings. The details are exquisite, but all Merlin can think is that Arthur remembered.
"I am a solicitor, I’m required to remember things," Arthur finally answers. Merlin glances up, sees Arthur's worried face and the others watching him curiosity. He clears his throat.
"It was several months ago," he finally tells them. "We were talking about, er, the Pendragon crest. My father was a wood-carver, and I mentioned he carved wooden dragons.” He looks up to find everyone watching him. “When I moved here, I lost my favorite dragon. My father had died so I had no way of replacing it. I haven’t thought about it since that conversation.” Which is a lie, but he isn’t going to admit how much the dragon means to him, coming from Arthur. Just like the others didn’t need to know the conversation had taken place in bed and had not been about the Pendragon crest at all, but about lost parents and crushing expectations and the sort of things one didn’t usually talk about with one’s boss.
"Thank you," Merlin tells him, not sure what else to say. Arthur crosses his hands over his chest and nods.
“You’re welcome,” he says sincerely, then smirks. “At least you’ll always remember who you work for.” Merlin sees him cringe, but Gwaine laughs loudly while Gwen shakes her head.
“Prat,” Merlin tells him, and Arthur inclines his head in acknowledgment.
"Thank you—all of you. I wasn't expecting anything except some filing interspersed with emailing and a few hours of research and writing, and that you all thought of me and took the time to—well, thank you," he finishes lamely. It moves him immensely to think that these four people, whom he now considers as close as family, care about him enough to celebrate his birthday.
There is a flurry of "You're welcome" from everyone. Gwaine offers to take him to lunch, then amends it to everyone when Arthur very pointedly clears his throat.
Merlin stands up with his new shirt, tie, and dragon, and a small envelope flutters to the ground. He picks it up and recognizes Arthur’s handwriting. He glances at Arthur to find the other man watching him with slightly wide eyes.
“It’s the card," Arthur practically stammers, apparently nervous as the girls turn to watch Merlin. "Must have got tucked in between by accident."
"Okay," he says, surprised at Arthur's reaction and already thinking about when he could open the envelope, when the others aren’t around. He starts to put it into the shirt box, but Gwen protests.
"Aw, go ahead and read it now, Merlin," she says. "You'll forget about it if you put it away." Morgana seems to agree, though she is watching Arthur closely, and even Gwaine has leaned forward to watch. What are they expecting it to be, a massive bonus check? A day off? He offers Arthur a questioning look, which is returned with a slight shrug, not helping at all. If Merlin leaves the card unopened, the others will probably suspect something and give him a hard time, but if Arthur has written anything sentimental or suggestive, they'll likely pick up on it—and still give him a hard time.
Deciding that it is equal parts safe and unsafe to open the envelope in front of the others (and accepting that he doesn’t particularly want to wait, no matter the risk), Merlin opens the envelope to find an unassuming card inside. But the card has a message, and Merlin stares at it, his eyes blurring and his throat tight.
"Well?" asks Gwen. "What does it say?"
Merlin takes a moment before looking at her with a smile, though it is a smile meant to hide the sudden nervous beating of his heart. He’s always been good at hiding things, after all.
"Happy birthday, clotpole," he reads. "To the best legal assistant, contract writer, accountant, researcher, scheduler, and conflict mediator this office has ever seen." He leaves out the part of the message that is indeed something unexpectedly sentimental and far too personal to share.
Morgana snorts at the latter, since Merlin had stepped into a fight between her and Arthur during his first week working at the company and often keeps the peace between them. Arthur grins ruefully. "And don't forget best-dressed now, too!"
Gwen and Morgana exchange a look, while Gwaine nods and claps Merlin on the back. “Damn right! Our Merlin does it all!”
Merlin tucks the card back into the envelope. He glances at Arthur and gives him a small nod with a silent "thank you," and wishes more than anything that he could thank Arthur more personally right there. Though he doesn’t know what he'd say, as it is all far and above anything he might have expected, and he once again does not want the rest of the room to know.
Arthur nods back. "Happy birthday, Merlin," he says softly, then heads toward his door and calls back over his shoulder. “I mean, get to work, clotpole!”
“Still my word, dollophead,” Merlin calls after him. He watches, still struck by the card and the gifts. He doesn’t notice Gwen lean over to whisper in his ear.
"Maybe you'll have someone to share that bottle with after all," she murmurs, then stands before Merlin can reply. Gwaine hears her, though, and makes a gagging sound. Gwen slaps his head as she walks by him. Morgana is watching him now, and she gives him an enigmatic smile before leaving for her office.
Merlin walks over to his smaller office in a slight daze, and for the next ten minutes he clicks through some emails without quite seeing the words. He opens his desk drawer and places the dragon inside. Making sure no one is watching, he murmurs a word and feels the familiar tingle of his magic, and the tiny dragon flaps its wings and takes a turn around the drawer. Merlin smiles to himself, the feeling of his magic filling his heart as much as the wooden carving itself. He waves his hand and places it back on his desk, wondering if there will ever be a time when he uses his magic again, or shares it with his friends. With Arthur.
Merlin wants to read and reread Arthur’s card, to see if it is real or if he had misread it, but he doesn’t want the others to find him staring at it. To see him soaking in Arthur’s words, words he never thought to hear, feelings he’d never given voice to himself. More than anything, he wants to see Arthur, alone, and thank him and touch him and show him how much it all means—
"Merlin?" Arthur knocks on the door frame and interrupts his increasingly indecent thoughts. "Did you finish the report from the meeting with Mercia yesterday? My father is asking about it."
"I already—" He stops, realizing it is unlikely that Uther Pendragon is asking about it when it’s already been uploaded to their shared server, and that Arthur is instead giving him the perfect reason to stop in and see him alone. "I can pull it up and bring it to you in five."
"Thank you," Arthur says, and goes back into his office with a nod. Merlin prints from the shared server and places it in a file folder to take it to Arthur. Gwaine is still sitting in the reception area, eating another pastry, and Merlin can feel both him and Gwen watching, as if they know something is going on. Well, he isn’t going to give them a show, but he needs to see Arthur. Privately.
Arthur is sitting at his desk, fiddling with a pen when Merlin enters. He desperately wants to shut the door and ravage Arthur’s lips, but they don’t that at work, not when the others are still around. He does close the door about halfway, then hands Arthur the folder, waiting for a moment while he flips through it. Maybe he does need it for his father and hadn't wanted to see Merlin. But then he sets it down, and the look on his face tells Merlin that no, Arthur doesn’t care about the file at all. He wants a private moment as well. Merlin inclines his head toward the others back in the reception area, and Arthur sighs as he leans back in his chair. His voice is quiet.
"So, is that a yes?" he asks with a smile both genuine and vulnerable. It’s not the first time he has asked Merlin the same question over the last few weeks, as if making sure, reassuring himself that Merlin is still interested in their—for lack of a better word—fling. Which he is and couldn't imagine a time when he wouldn't be, but it’s nice to know that Arthur has his insecurities as well, when he always seems so confident.
Merlin hums as he walks past the desk to the hutch behind Arthur. He considers opening one of the upper cabinets and pretending to look for something, but leans against it instead, almost next to Arthur and at least out of direct sight of the door. He smiles, hopes that Arthur reads him right.
"I don't know, I have a nice bottle of expensive wine Morgana and Gwen are expecting me to share with someone tonight."
Arthur ducks his head before he stands, hands in his pockets as he turns toward Merlin. "Have anyone in mind?"
"Thought Gwen might like it, but she prefers white," Merlin replies. “And then I’d have to share with Lance.”
"I like red," Arthur murmurs, stepping forward and leaning against the hutch so that they are shoulder to shoulder now. Merlin glances at the door, hoping the others can’t see in but doubting it. And then he doesn’t care, relishing in the long line of heat pressing against his side.
He turns his head toward Arthur, wets his lips. "Then it's a yes if you'd like to come back to mine after dinner," Merlin says.
"Definitely a yes," Arthur murmurs, eyes drifting down to Merlin’s mouth before meeting his eyes. "Thank you for the invitation."
"Thank you for the gifts," Merlin said, his voice serious. "The shirt and tie are the nicest I have, I still can’t believe you remembered the dragon, and I don’t even know what to say about the dinner reservation."
"I’m glad you like them,” Arthur says. “And I wanted to ask you about dinner weeks ago, but I also wanted it to be a surprise. And not a surprise you opened in front of the others, though you covered it well."
"Thanks." Merlin laughs through his nose. "You know, I didn't think anyone would remember my birthday, wasn't sure if I wanted anyone to remember."
"Why not? It's your birthday, and that's always a reason to celebrate."
"But The Hub? Arthur, that’s a Michelin starred restaurant with a three-month waiting list." Which is all true, and one reason why Merlin is still so stunned. It’s too much—for him, for Arthur, for them. And the note Arthur had written…Merlin will treasure those words for years, no matter what happens between them.
"So what?" Arthur crosses his arms over his chest with a frown, fidgets with his feet. "Don't you want to go?"
"Of course I do!" Merlin exclaims, suddenly worried he might lose the chance to be with Arthur that night. "I've never been anywhere like it. Only it's…well, it's a lot more, isn't it? More than we've done. Together."
"Oh, we've done quite a lot together, Merlin."
"That’s not what I mean," Merlin says, finding it hard to say what he is thinking. "Although that's more along the lines of what I was expecting, if I was expecting anything, which I wasn't because I—"
"You what?" Arthur looks up with a mulish look on his face, daring him to say it. "You didn't think I'd remember? Or that I'd care?"
"I thought I'd stop at the pub on my way home and have a pint," Merlin admits, feeling bad about it. "I didn't think the whole team would remember and I'd end up at the poshest restaurant in town."
Arthur glances at the door again, then steps in front of him and puts his arms around Merlin’s waist. "You deserve it."
"Arthur, it's too much. And we—"
He leans in and kisses Merlin as if trying to silence both his voice and his doubts. Maybe it’s a good idea. If Merlin keeps talking, he will almost certainly say something stupid, something that will hurt Arthur's feelings, and all because of his own insecurities. Arthur has given him a wonderful gift and got them into one of the best restaurants in town for Merlin’s birthday. Just because they usually order take-away after a long day at work doesn’t mean they can’t go out to a nice restaurant together.
But it’s Merlin's birthday, and it’s an upscale, romantic, restaurant. Doesn’t that mean something? Or is it simply Arthur being generous, not thinking of what it might mean to Merlin? Only Merlin doesn’t know what it means to him either, to be going on that kind of date with Arthur. Yet maybe that's all it is, an exceptionally nice dinner on his birthday. Maybe he doesn’t have to read anything more into it, overthink everything.
"Thank you," Merlin murmurs against Arthur's lips. Arthur grins and they kiss again, Merlin throwing caution and worry to the wind, determined to enjoy the moment and not think about what it is or isn’t. He is so determined that he completely forgets they are in Arthur's office with the door half open. So of course someone walks in and sees them.
"Bloody hell!" Gwaine exclaims, stopping at the door and holding his hands in front of his face as if traumatized. "I thought Gwen and Morgana were being fanciful. I didn't think I'd walk in and see that!"
Arthur drops his head to Merlin’s shoulder, while Merlin stares out the window and considers sneaking out somehow. Then he decides that he has nothing to be ashamed of, not when Arthur is taking him to The Hub for his birthday, so he turns and meets Gwaine's incredulous, and slightly exasperated, expression.
"Sorry, Gwaine," he says with a very unapologetic shrug. "I was saying thank you."
"You never thank me like that," Gwaine laments, shaking his head with pretend sadness. "I can't believe you two actually hooked up. I told them he wasn’t your type, mate.”
"What can I say?" Merlin replies with a shrug. "You were wrong. Good thing you’re still working on your courses.”
"I’d rather argue for the legal rights of rats than walk in on that again. Anyway.” He turns it off with a grin. “Gwen reminded us that there’s a staff meeting upstairs in ten.”
He turns and walks out, pulling the door shut behind him. “Finish snogging so we can get to the meeting on time!” he calls out. There’s a shriek from Gwen, and then three excited voices in the reception area, no doubt talking about them.
Arthur blows out a long breath before turning back to Merlin. "Looks like it will be all over the building by lunch.”
Merlin rolls his eyes. “Are you kidding? It’ll be all over the building before the meeting starts.”
Arthur cringes. “I’m sorry if you didn’t want anyone to know. It will make things considerably more awkward.”
“It’s not that I didn’t,” Merlin shrugs. “Want anyone to know. And if Gwaine takes the piss and Gwen coos and Morgana is, well Morgana…I don’t mind if you don’t mind.”
Arthur’s smile could light up a room. “I can always threaten Gwen and Gwaine’s performance reviews, but Morgana…she’s been like that my whole life, so I’m afraid we’ll have to deal with her some other way. And I don’t mind if you don’t mind.”
“I don’t,” Merlin replies. He grins. “Especially if it means posh dinners at Michelin starred restaurants.”
He expects a joke in return, but Arthur surprises him again with a soft smile. “I know I’d like that.”
“Arthur, I didn’t mean—”
Arthur kisses him, quick but sweet. “Don’t think so hard,” he murmurs. “You’ll hurt yourself.”
“But you don’t have to—”
“I like this,” Arthur tells him. “And I want this. We are going to have the most amazing dinner tonight, and then I’m going to—” He whispers something wildly inappropriate in Merlin’s ear that goes straight to his groin.
Merlin kisses him, long and hard and fully intending to take Arthur's breath away and leave him wanting more. When Merlin finally pulls away, the slightly dazed look in Arthur's eyes tells him it worked. "We will definitely continue this later, at my place, with that bottle of wine. Because I am going to hold you to everything you said, and then I’m going to—" He adds something deliciously filthy to Arthur’s original plans and is rewarded by the other man’s sharp intake of breath and wide eyes.
"It's a date," Arthur says, his voice tight. He clears his throat. “Meeting first, though.”
"Bloody meeting," Merlin murmurs with a smile, but he doesn’t move. He's more aroused than he'd thought and doesn’t particularly want to leave Arthur's office and sit through an hour-long meeting with tight trousers. Arthur hums in agreement and motions toward the door.
"Come on, we may as well face them together, yeah?”
Merlin nods as he follows Arthur from the office. The others stop talking immediately, each one of them with a different smile. Arthur opens his mouth to say something, then shuts it with a rueful shake of his head. He places a warm hand on Merlin’s back as he guides him from the suite, still holding tight. Behind them, Gwen indeed coos, Gwaine takes the piss, and Morgana murmurs, “Finally.”
But Merlin is surprised to find it doesn’t bother him. It’s his birthday, and it has already been one of the best days he's had in years. And it isn’t over, because he will be spending the night celebrating with Arthur. Merlin can’t imagine anything better for his twenty-fifth birthday and hopes there will be many more to celebrate with Arthur by his side.