Happy Merlin Holidays, sabriel75!

[merlin-hols.livejournal.com]

Title: Showmance
Recipient: sabriel75
Author: cassie_black12
Rating: PG-13
Pairings: Merlin/Arthur, Morgana/Leon, implied Gwen/Lance
Word Count: 10,403
Warnings: None
Summary: When his doctor suggested he take up a hobby to counteract his stressful lifestyle, Arthur had no idea just how big a change it would make.
Author's Notes: Huge thanks to the mods for organising this fest at such short notice – you've done a fabulous job. Squishy hugs to my wonderful beta, N, who whipped this into shape. And finally to sabriel75, I'm fairly sure this isn't quite what you had in mind, but I hope it comes close enough ♥ Merry Christmas!!!
Disclaimer: The characters depicted herein belong to Shine and BBC. I make no profit from this endeavor.


All work and no play made Arthur a very dull boy. Or at least that's what people kept telling him. Actually, his doctor said it made him a stressed-out ulcer candidate, but Arthur chose to ignore such obvious scare tactics.

His nearest and dearest, however, were not quite so blasé when it came to his health. Hence Arthur's current predicament.

He leant back in his chair and winced as the hideous orange plastic creaked loudly. A quick glance around the room confirmed his earlier conclusion that he was surrounded by the motliest looking group of people since that time his father developed a social conscience and had Arthur spend a night in the local homeless shelter.

Arthur chanced a look sideways at Gwen, expecting to share a wry smile, or a roll of the eyes, but she seemed as engrossed in the proceedings as everyone else.

There were times when Arthur thought he would be perfectly entitled to hate Gwen. Like the time she backed his brand new BMW into a lamp post, or when she threw up red wine all over his favourite Paul Smith shirt. And if that wasn't enough, there was that whole dumping Arthur so she could go out with one of his best friends instead incident.

The trouble with Gwen, though, was that she was the sweetest, kindest, single most genuine person that Arthur had ever met, and hating her would rank him somewhere alongside the killer of Bambi's mother.

Seemingly from nowhere, a ripple of excitement made its way around the room with all the speed and uniformity of a Mexican wave. Arthur looked around in confusion and attempted to gauge what he'd missed.

"What's—"

"Shhh," Gwen hissed, her eyebrows raised in some kind of warning.

Arthur slowly turned his face to the front of the room, towards the focus of all the enthusiasm.

Gaius Meyer was...well, quirky would probably be the best way to describe him, Arthur thought. He sat in a chair, facing the group, eyeing each one of them intently in turn over the top of his black-rimmed glasses as he leant forward on his cane. Shoulder length white hair framed his lined face, which, together with the outfit of maroon velvet jacket, loose-fitting white shirt topped with cravat, and beige cords, all combined to give the appearance of an eccentric impresario.

Directors, Gwen had informed Arthur knowledgably, were the be-all and end-all of the Amateur Dramatics world. At first glance, he had been rather sceptical about this, but Arthur had now seen the level of control Gaius wielded with just a tap of that cane, and no longer needed convincing.

For the first time that evening, Arthur decided to pay attention to the proceedings. And then promptly wished that he hadn't. Well, what he actually wished was that Gwen had never mentioned this crazy idea in the first place, but then he remembered the alternative activity had been fishing with Leon, and suddenly Gwen's little club didn't seem like such a bad thing after all.

But a pantomime, Arthur's brain kept demanding incredulously. It wasn't like he'd been expecting the RSC when he signed up, but something a little more high-brow than slapstick humour and men in drag would have been nice.

There was a young man seated to Gaius's left. Arthur hadn't noticed him until that moment – which was strange, because whoever he was had just the kind of angular features that usually guaranteed Arthur's attention – especially those cheekbones. Arthur's eyes fixed on this man as he unfolded his long limbs from his chair and got to his feet.

"Who's that?" he demanded sotto voce of Gwen, only to find himself shushed again. With a huff and a barely concealed sigh, Arthur turned to face the front again. And found himself looking up into the bluest pair of eyes he'd ever seen.

"Here you go."

It took Arthur a few moments to realise that the eyes had a person attached. A person who was, in fact, talking to him. "Huh?" It wasn't his most eloquent moment.

"This is yours," Cheekbones replied softly, gesturing with the bundle of paper in his hand.

Arthur could feel the first flush of embarrassment creeping up his neck. It only got worse when he noticed the long elegant fingers holding the proffered script and his mind began to take him to some very wrong places. "Thank you," he said finally, taking the script and heaving a sigh of relief that his voice hadn't come out as quite the squeak he'd feared.

Arthur refused to acknowledge Gwen, even though he could feel her amused grin burning into the side of his face. Instead he picked up his script and immersed himself in the doings of Cinderella.

Finally, the loud scrape of chair legs along the parquet floor signalled to Arthur it was time to leave. He was on his feet in an instant, and shot a quick glance towards the exit, mentally calculating his chances of making out before he was forced to engage in further conversation. Especially with the rather voracious-looking blonde woman who had been eyeing him speculatively for the best part of the hour.

Of course, the way his evening had gone so far should have taught Arthur not to have such false hope. No sooner had he clutched his copy of Cinderella to his chest, than Arthur found himself being dragged purposefully across the room.

"Ah, Guinevere, I see you've been recruiting for us."

Arthur rolled his eyes at two things. One, the fact that Gwen let anyone live to tell the tale of using her actual name – it was a crime she never allowed to pass unpunished – and secondly, the double air kiss complete with associated noises that was now passing between them.

Gwen just smiled warmly and said "This is Arthur."

Gaius turned his gaze to Arthur, who was moved to wonder why the old man bothered wearing glasses at all if he was just going to look over the top of them all the time.

"Arthur Pendragon," Gaius said softly, almost as if musing to himself.

Arthur bristled at the familiarity. "I'm sorry, do I know you?"

"No." Gaius shook his head, his expression almost sad. "Or at least, not since you were a baby. Your mother and I used to work together."

Arthur knew his mother had once been an actress. He'd gleaned that much from the box full of programmes and newspaper clippings that Morgana had found stashed away in their attic. But that was as far as his knowledge went. Over the years, Arthur's father had remained steadfast in his determination not to discuss his late wife. So Ygraine du Bois, the beautiful woman who smiled up at Arthur from various dog –eared stage magazines, remained a mystery to the one person who ached to know her best.

Instead of firing off the numerous questions currently on the tip of his tongue, Arthur simply smiled tightly. "I see." He held out his hand in greeting – not quite being ready for the air kiss just yet. "Good to meet you."

Gaius returned the shake with a smile of his own. "Indeed. Will you be returning next week? Or have we managed to put you off already?"

"Of course he will." Gwen slipped her arm through his and squeezed ever so gently. "Won't you, Arthur?"

Arthur nodded – he figured it was the safest way to avoiding offending either of them.

"Splendid." Gaius seemed oblivious to Arthur's reticence. "We don't get as much interest as we used to. Especially not from the younger generations. It's something of a record having two new people at once."

"Two?" Arthur frowned and racked his brains for anyone else who had seemed similarly awkward – nothing.

"Yes, my nephew Merlin. He's," Gaius cast a quick look around the room, "ah, there he is talking to Sophia."

Arthur followed the direction of his gaze and found himself looking at the enigmatic man from earlier, and the blonde woman who seemed intent on catching his eye.

Merlin seemed to notice he had their attention because he turned towards them ever so slowly, a brilliant smile lighting his face, but all Arthur noticed, the one thing his world narrowed down to was the soft curve of Merlin's neck and what it would be like to trail his tongue over the smooth, pale flesh.

*

"You and your bright ideas." Arthur slumped into his seat, pint in hand and a dark scowl on his face.

"You didn't have fun?" Morgana smirked at Arthur over the top of her wine glass. "I'd have thought it was right up your street."

"I don't see why," Arthur muttered, glaring belligerently at his friends.

"You acted at school," Leon pointed out, and earned himself a beaming smile from his girlfriend.

"But that was Shakespeare," Arthur argued.

"That it was," Gwen agreed. "I remember your Bottom well."

Everyone sniggered.

"Ha ha." Arthur pouted.

"Shouldn't that be Hee Haw?" Morgana leant back quickly in her seat, out of the range of Arthur's hand.

"Never mind her," Gwen soothed. "I thought you did a brilliant job." She slid her hand into his hair. "And you looked beyond adorable with those ears."

Arthur batted her hand away. "When you've all quite finished."

"So you're not going back then?" Leon enquired as he tugged futilely at a bag of pork scratchings. "Should I dig out the spare fishing rod?"

Arthur shuddered; cold riverbanks and squirming maggots were not top of his list of ways to have fun. "No, thank you."

"So what then?" Morgana snatched the bag from Leon's hands, opened it with ease, before passing it back. "You know what the doctor said."

Arthur stiffened. "I'm well aware of what he said, Morgana. I was there at the time."

"Well then, if you won't join Gwen's little club, and you won't take Leon up on his offer – not that I blame you on that one, mind – then you can come to yoga with me." She sat back in her seat, a triumphant expression on her face.

Arthur blanched. "Firstly, things aren't so bad that I'm willing to wear Lycra and prance around in front of a room full of mung bean-eating hippies, and secondly, who said I wasn't joining?" He shifted sideways to smile at Gwen, who was eyeing him suspiciously.

"It did sound awfully like you hated it," she said. "And you were less than complimentary about some of the other members."

Arthur gave a dismissive wave of his hand. "I'll admit I was a little underwhelmed to begin with, but now that I've had time to think it over," he gave a quick shrug," I'm sure it'll be fine."

Gwen's eyes narrowed further. "You've certainly changed your tune. What happened to I'd rather rip off my own arm and beat myself to death with it than stand on stage shouting 'he's behind you'? "

"I'm allowed to change my mind, aren't I?"

"In theory, yes," Gwen replied slowly. "But it's not exactly something you're famed for."

"Well, there's a first time for everything." Arthur picked up his pint and took a long drink.

"It'll be the crown," Leon commented, causing the rest of the group to look at him in surprise.

"Crown?" Morgana repeated slowly. She glanced at Leon's drink. "How many of those have you had exactly?"

Leon laughed and shook his head. "I'm not drunk. I just meant...you said the show was Cinderella, right?" He turned to Gwen here for confirmation.

"Yes, that's right," Gwen replied, before exchanging glances with Morgana.

"Well, it's obvious, isn't it?" Leon sat back in his chair, smug expression on his face. "Blondie here fancies himself as Prince Charming."

The laughter that followed drowned out Arthur's spluttering protests, but Leon was wise enough to keep a safe distance for the rest of the night.

**********


"Are you sure you still want to do this?" Gwen whispered as they made their way into the community centre the next week.

"I'm here aren't I?"

"Yes, but—"

"And I've read the script." Arthur came to a stop and turned to face her. "Trust me, Gwen, if I was planning to back out at any point, it would have been long before I was forced to endure this," he gestured with the rolled up script in his hands, "twice."

Gwen's nervous expression softens slightly. "You're right. Sorry. It's just that I really like coming here and—"

"Relax." Arthur slung a friendly arm around her shoulder. "I have no intention of ruining things for you."

Gwen gave a sigh of relief and Arthur wasn't sure whether he should be offended by her lack of faith or not. Then as he recalled some of his more scathing comments following the previous week's meeting, he supposed it wasn't entirely unjustified.

"Hi, Merlin."

Arthur snapped to attention at the sound of Gwen's soft greeting. He looked up just in time to see long fingers push back a duffle coat hood, revealing the smiling eyes and glorious cheekbones that he resolutely hadn't been thinking about for the last seven days.

"Merlin." Arthur winced internally at just how loud his greeting came out, but fortunately neither of the other two seemed to notice.

"Hi," Merlin replied, then turned that smile to Arthur. "You came back. I told Gaius you would."

Arthur tried really hard to ignore the squirmy feeling in his belly at the thought that Merlin had been thinking of him, talking about him – even if it was in the context of amateur dramatics. "I'm glad someone had faith in me." And without thinking, he slung his free arm around Merlin's neck and grinned conspiratorially. "I knew I liked the look of you for a reason."

*

It really was one of the most beautiful things he had ever seen. And Arthur was painfully aware that if he didn’t do something soon, like move or speak, he'd do something completely embarrassing like reach out and trail his fingers along the lines of Merlin's neck until they tangled in the unruly wisps of hair at his nape.

"You're not auditioning then?"

Merlin turned, his expression one of surprise, like he hadn't been aware of Arthur's intense scrutiny. "Sorry?"

"The play," Arthur replied – he still refused to use the other P word to describe it. "I noticed your name wasn't down for any auditions."

"No," Merlin replied as if the barest idea horrified him. "I'm more of a behind-the-scenes person. Like Gwen."

"You make dresses, too?" Arthur couldn't resist teasing and received his reward when dots of high colour appeared along Merlin's cheekbones.

"Not quite." Merlin gave a nervous sort of a laugh. "Uncle Gaius has roped me into organising the scenery."

"Good with a brush, are you?" Arthur asked, more out of an urge to continue the conversation than any real interest in the subject matter.

Merlin shrugged. "Not bad. I've just started an MA at the Royal College of Art – that's why I'm living with my uncle at the moment. Student digs in London are a bit out of my price bracket."

Arthur nodded. Not that he had any problem with student accommodation, not with the stylish flat his father had purchased for Morgana and him to share – but he remembered the struggles some of his friends had endured to make ends meet. Then something occurred to him. "Aren't you a little bit old to be starting post-graduate? I mean, you must be what...twenty-four, twenty-five?"

"Twenty-four," Merlin replied softly. "I took a bit of a break from my studies."

He didn't offer any further information, and Arthur didn't press – despite what his friends thought of him, Arthur did know when to back off. "You want to be an artist, then?"

"Hopefully." An obvious look of relief passed over Merlin's face. "It's hard going though. There aren't many galleries willing to show unknown artists."

Arthur's mouth had always had a habit of running away with him, and this time was no exception. "You know," he said, shooting a bright smile in Merlin's direction. "My father has quite a large art collection."

"That's nice," Merlin replied neutrally.

It wasn't exactly the response Arthur had been hoping for, so he decided to clarify his point. "What I mean is, to build his collection he has quite a lot to do with dealers, gallery owners and such like. He might be able to put in a good word for you."

Merlin smiled at him curiously for a moment. "You haven't even seen my work; I could be rubbish."

"Of course." Arthur didn't even attempt to stop his eye roll. "Because the Royal College of Art makes a habit of accepting talentless hacks onto their MA programme, I'm sure."

The crinkles around Merlin's eyes appeared again. "Point," he acknowledged. "But it doesn't mean you'll like it, though."

"Merlin, I wasn't planning to hang it on my bedroom wall." He paused for a moment and then grinned. "I might though, if I liked it. You'll have to invite me round to see your etchings sometime."

*

Leon was going to have a field day, Arthur decided. So, for that matter, were the rest of his friends. He kept his eyes glued to the floor whilst Gaius announced the rest of the cast's roles – he'd have to put up with Gwen's teasing soon enough, he wasn't about to give her a head start.

"Come on, Arthur." Gwen gave him a nudge with a surprisingly sharp elbow. "I don't know why you're pretending to not be happy. You got your crown."

"I'm a Prince, not a King," Arthur muttered, unable to resist correcting, despite his resolution to ignore her.

"Crown Prince," Gwen replies smugly. "Either way you get a pretty circlet of gold to sit on your shiny hair." She reached out and patted his head as if to illustrate her point.

Arthur batted her hand away and finally made eye contact. "Stop bloody petting me. I'm not a dog."

"No," Gwen replied. "And I suppose I don't want to make your bride-to-be jealous." She nodded across the room to a slight, dark-haired girl who was currently engaging Merlin's attention.

Freya was pretty, Arthur admitted to himself begrudgingly, if you liked the ethereal type. But really she was far more suited to the role of Snow White than that of the golden haired Cinderella. Still, when he considered that the close alternative had been the rather attentive blonde woman from his first meeting, Arthur quickly warmed to his co-star.

"Come on." Gwen was on her feet, hands on her hips, staring down at him expectantly.

"Where to?"

"The pub." Gwen held his coat out for him.

Arthur took a quick glance at his watch. "What's the hurry? The others won't be there for at least an hour; Leon was working late."

Gwen tugged her own coat on and stuffed her hands in the pockets firmly. "We're going with them," she replied, with a quick nod towards the group of people waiting patiently by the door. Obviously Arthur didn't hide his response as well as he thought, because she added, "Don't start."

Arthur was a little stung by the injustice of this remark, but before he could set Gwen straight, in no uncertain terms, Merlin was there, smiling at them both, and suddenly Arthur found it a little hard to maintain his irritation.

"You two coming to the pub?" Merlin asked.

"Of course," Arthur replied instantly, ignoring Gwen's snort of disbelief. "Wouldn't miss it for the world." He slung his arm once again around Merlin's neck and began leading them towards the door. "You can buy me a pint and tell me some more about these paintings of yours."

*

"So, Merlin." Morgana smiled widely and all Arthur could think was that she looked like a shark eyeing its prey, and what a bad idea it had been to invite Merlin to join them. Poor man didn't know what he'd let himself in for.

"Morgana," Arthur said warningly. "Don't start with the Spanish Inquisition."

"Yeah, because nobody expects that," Merlin quipped

Arthur turned to look at him in surprise for a moment, and then couldn't suppress the bubble of laughter rising in his throat; maybe Merlin would do just fine after all. He got to his feet. "My round," he announced. "Same again?"

"I'll give you a hand," Leon offered. And no sooner had he stood up than Morgana shuffled along the bench until she was next to Merlin.

Arthur shook his head at his sister. "Behave," he warned.

Morgana clutched her chest in mock injury. "I don't know what you mean."

Arthur eyed her disbelievingly. "Gwen, I'm putting you in charge till I get back. And Merlin?"

Merlin looked up, his big blue eyes dancing with amusement. "Yes?"

"Watch out for this one." Arthur nodded in Morgana's direction. "She bites."

*

"You're brave, aren't you?" Leon gave a quick glance over his shoulder as they stood at the bar.

Arthur finished giving his order to the barmaid. "What makes you say that?"

"Well, you've left your new boyfriend alone in Morgana's clutches. That means you're either brave, or stupid."

"Merlin's not my boyfriend."

Leon turned to face him, one eyebrow quirked. "Really? You could have fooled me from the way you've been making puppy eyes at him all night."

Arthur spluttered into his freshly-poured pint. "I do not make puppy eyes at anyone. If anything, you're the one who trots around after my sister like a good little lap dog."

Leon just smiled good-naturedly; it took more than that to rile him. "Face it, Arthur, you like him. You know it, I know it, everyone at that table with the possible exception of Merlin knows it, so stop with the denial and tell me what you're going to do about it.

"Could you keep your voice down a little," Arthur muttered when he noticed the barmaid smiling to herself.

"Don't try side-tracking," Leon replied, reaching for his own drink. "Would you rather have this conversation with your sister?"

Arthur shuddered at the prospect. "I don't even know that he's gay," he replied shortly, handing over several crumpled notes to the barmaid who had given up all pretence of not listening.

"He is." Leon grinned at Arthur over the top of his drink.

Arthur ignored the tiny burst of hope this information gave him. "And you know this how, exactly?"

"Morgana," was Leon's succinct reply.

Arthur would have loved to scoff at this, but he had enough experience of his sister's sometimes startling insights, that he at least gave it the benefit of the doubt. "Oh," he said and turned his gaze back to the table where Merlin was seemingly in deep conversation with his sister; Arthur felt faintly sick at the prospect of what sort of things Morgana would be saying.

"Oh," Leon repeated. "That's all you've got to say?"

"Give a bloke a break would you." Arthur turned his attention back to the bar and began gathering up the various drinks. "Until sixty seconds ago I thought he was straight. Even I require a little longer than that to come up with a plan of action."

"You don't need a plan." Leon fixed him with a look that Arthur just knew he'd learned from Morgana. "Just ask him out. How hard can it be?"

"So says the man who mooned after my sister for...how long was it?"

"That's different," Leon replied unfazed.

"How?" Arthur's attention snapped back to Merlin instantly. He was laughing at something Morgana has said; his head tipped back, the long line of his neck arched and vulnerable. Arthur shivered.

"Merlin's nowhere near as scary as your sister."

**********

"Are you nervous?"

Arthur turned his head and gave Gwen and incredulous look, before refocusing his attention on the road ahead.

"It's okay if you are," she continued.

"I'm not," Arthur replied shortly, before pulling up at a set of traffic lights. "It's just a read-through," he added. "All we do, according to you, is sit around in a circle reading aloud. What's there to be nervous about in that?"

"When you put it like that...I just thought, well, there's all those people you barely know, who've all had lots more experience. And then there's Gaius, who's worked with actual famous people."

Arthur chuckled to himself at this. He found it endlessly amusing that Gwen was still star struck by celebrities, despite her position at the BBC, however junior it might be.

"Film-star famous," Gwen clarified, clearly aware of the source of Arthur's amusement. "And of course, Merlin will be there," she added slyly.

"Don't start," Arthur warned. "We're not having this conversation again.

"But—"

"No," Arthur said firmly. "I know you mean well, all of you – even Morgana – but this is my life and I'll do things at my own pace."

Gwen sank back into her seat and remained silent then, much to Arthur's relief. They continued the rest of the journey in much the same fashion and it wasn't until they were stood on Gaius's doorstep, waiting for the bell to be answered, that Gwen gave him a nudge and asked, "Are we okay?"

Arthur nudged back, a smile on his face because he could never quite manage to hold a grudge. "Of course we are, idiot."

*

Gaius's home was much the same as its owner – eccentric, to say the least. The room they were currently in was imposing; high ceilings, large bay windows, and even more strikingly, no seating save for a scatter of cushions on the floor and one wingback chair clearly designed for Gaius's use.

Arthur wasn't particularly fazed by the seating arrangements – he'd eaten in enough Japanese restaurants in his time – but some of the elder group members were clearly a little disgruntled by Gaius's obvious statement of position.

The read-through itself went much as Arthur expected, although he was surprised to see Freya come to life when she slipped into character. He suspected he would actually like the girl if she wasn't hanging off Merlin every time he saw her.

There were times when Arthur felt as though some of the others were waiting for him to mess up, miss a cue, fluff his lines, or something to that effect. Particularly Edwin, an unprepossessing man with an unfortunate scar on his face, who, Gwen reliably informed him, had coveted the Prince's role for his own.

But fail he didn't. Arthur noted a few approving looks from other members – admittedly two of whom were Gwen and Merlin – and even Gaius didn't frown or interrupt, which, Arthur had swiftly learnt, was high praise indeed.

*

"Pub?" Gwen asked as she took Arthur's hand and allowed herself to be pulled to her feet.

"For a change?" Arthur asked wryly. He paused for a moment and brushed at his trousers, removing any lingering trace of carpet. "Why don't you head down with the others?" he suggested. "I'll drop the car off at home and then join you."

"You're sure?" Gwen asked, slipping into her jacket. "I don't mind coming with you."

"Nah." Arthur shook his head. "No point in both of us going. Besides, someone needs to be there to snag us a table."

"If you're sure," Gwen repeated, and Arthur had to smile at this, because she was already half way across the room and linking arms with Gwaine.

"Arthur, do you have a moment?"

Arthur's stomach sank a little with Gaius's words. Maybe he had been terrible after all and Gaius had simply decided to spare his feelings by saying it in private. He turned around, fake smile plastered on his face. "Sure, what's up?"

Gaius took one look at his expression, his posture, and clapped Arthur on the shoulder. "Don't look so worried, man," he exclaimed cheerfully. "It isn't firing squad time for you just yet."

Arthur laughed shakily and felt the tightness in his belly loosen. "That's good to hear."

"You remind me so much of your mother," Gaius continued, and then the tightness moved up to Arthur's chest.

"Really?" he croaked hoarsely.

Gaius nodded absently, as if already lost in memories of his own.

"Gaius." Merlin prodded his uncle gently, and it startled Arthur, too, because he hadn't even noticed him in the room.

"What?" Gaius turned around, wild-eyed. "Merlin, what the devil are you playing at?" Then his gaze lowered to the box in Merlin's hand. "Ah yes, thank you." He took hold of the box and turned back to Arthur. "I thought you might like to see this," he explained, holding it out before him.

Arthur took what turned out to be a video cassette and looked at it in confusion. "What is it?"

"Your mother," Gaius replied simply. Then, seeing the startled look on Arthur's face, he clarified, "It's some home video footage; behind the scenes, rehearsals, that kind of thing. It's from when we did Hamlet at the Old Vic."

Arthur looked down at his hands as if he couldn't quite believe what he was holding. For years he had longed for someone to just tell him about his mother, what she was like, who she was, and now that he had the chance to see her, hear her, within his grasp, he wasn't sure if he was ready. He knew Gaius was waiting for a reply, but Arthur wasn't sure there were words to explain what this meant to him. Finally, he just said, "I don't have a video recorder."

Gaius reached out and squeezed his shoulder briefly, and the look that passed between them told Arthur that some of what he was feeling was understood. "No problem," he said softly. "There's one in the cupboard over there." He nodded towards the corner of the almost bare room. "Merlin will show you."

"Thank you." It took Arthur quite an effort to force the words past the lump in his throat.

Gaius just nodded. "Take as long as you need," he said, then turned to leave.

Arthur looked from the cassette in his hands to Merlin's rather uncomfortable expression. "Umm..." was all he managed to say.

Apparently Merlin was fluent in inarticulacy, because he took the tape from Arthur's hand and headed over to the cupboard that Gaius had indicated.

Within minutes Arthur found himself seated on the floor, remote control in hand and heart in his mouth.

"I'll leave you to it," Merlin said softly as he turned to leave.

Arthur wasn't sure what prompted him to do it, but the next words out of his mouth were, "Don't, please."

Merlin stopped in his tracks and swallowed hard. "You want me to say?"

Arthur nodded. "I don't know why, I just..." What he wanted to say was that he thought he would be less inclined to fall apart if he had company, but Arthur wasn't quite ready to bear his soul to that degree yet.

"If you're sure?" Merlin replied, and sat himself on the cushion right next to Arthur.

Fairly sure he could feel the heat from Merlin's thigh – which was only inches away – Arthur nodded. "I'm sure."

*

"She was beautiful." Merlin was the first one to speak in the awkward silence after. "Your mother," he clarified unnecessarily.

Arthur smiled. He'd heard a few people say that before, and had seen a few blurred photographs of his mother – but now he knew they were right. He'd seen her smile, heard her laugh; he finally felt like he knew his own mother.

"Gaius is right," Merlin continued. "You are like her."

"Are you calling me beautiful, Merlin?" Arthur smiled weakly in an attempt to lighten the mood.

"Maybe," Merlin replied. Then he leant in and nudged Arthur with his shoulder. "You okay?"

Arthur wasn't really sure there was an answer to that. "I miss her," was what he ended up saying.

Merlin nodded. "I get that," he said softly

Arthur looked at him in surprise, because how could Merlin possibly get what he was feeling?

"Remember that long study break I mentioned?" Merlin asked, his eyes fixed intently on Arthur, who nodded in reply. "My mother had breast cancer; I went home to look after her, until she..."

Arthur felt a pang in his chest at the sight of raw grief on Merlin's face. Mimicking Gaius's earlier actions, he reached out and placed a hand on Merlin's shoulder, squeezing gently. Only, unlike Gaius, he let his fingers splay outwards, until his thumb was ever so slightly smoothing over the ridge of Merlin's collarbone.

They stared into each other's eyes in silence, and Arthur was painfully aware that they were having a moment. Just as he was trying to work out whether it would be inappropriate to lean in and see if Merlin's lips really were as soft as they looked, he was saved from the dilemma by the insistent vibrating of his Blackberry.

There were few people who would bother to call Arthur at this time of night, so he felt fairly confident in reaching into his pocket and ending the call with a press of a button. Then he smiled uncertainly at Merlin. "Sorry about that," he said.

"'S okay," Merlin replied, but the moment was gone and Arthur let his hand fall reluctantly to the floor.

"I'm sorry about your mum, too," Arthur continued. "I didn't realise."

Merlin shrugged. "Why would you? I don't really like to talk about it."

"Oh." Arthur wasn't sure how to respond to that. "I didn't—"

"Not you," Merlin said quickly. "I just meant people in general."

"I see," Arthur replied, when really he didn't, but it felt like something was shifting between Merlin and him, so he wasn't about to start asking questions.

Then Merlin's pocket started vibrating.

He smiled apologetically as he pulled out his mobile. "Hello?" There was a long pause during which Merlin smiled and flushed quite a lot. Then he held the phone out to Arthur. "It's for you."

"For me?" Arthur repeated incredulously.

Merlin nodded. "Morgana," he explained.

Arthur took the phone without further questions. "This had better be important," he snapped into the handset. Morgana barely got the first few words of teasing out of her mouth before Arthur told her to 'sod off' and then promptly hung up.

"Do I even want to know why my sister has your phone number?" he asked, as he handed Merlin back his phone.

"She can be very insistent," Merlin replied as if this explained everything, and with Arthur's extensive knowledge of Morgana, it really did.

**********

Arthur thought that whichever of his friends had suggested he do this in order to relax deserved to be shot. Dragging himself out in the cold for twice-weekly rehearsals, after long days in the offices, was definitely not his idea of fun. Even yoga was starting to look more appealing.

They'd been rehearsing for almost five weeks now and Arthur had been surprised at just how easily he slipped into his role. Leon asserted it was only to be expected, that Arthur had been playing an over-privileged pretty-boy for most of his life, so really it was a role he was born to play. For his part, Arthur found himself wondering if it wasn't time he acquired a new group of friends, one that wasn't so quick to mock.

The other cast members were equally at home with their parts – which given their experience was not such a surprise. Arthur continued with his grudging respect for Freya's performance – their scenes together were amongst his favourite to perform – and Gwaine's comic timing as Dandini, the Prince's hapless manservant, was really quite impressive.

Only tonight's rehearsal was not going as smoothly as it should. It seemed to Arthur that the closer they got to opening night, the more people regressed, fluffed their lines, and missed their cues. Tonight was no exception – it was Geoffrey's turn.

He was an older gentleman, probably somewhere around Gaius's age, and something of a veteran of the amateur dramatics scene. Which made his mistakes all the more surprising.

Arthur became increasingly frustrated. Time was ticking on, and if Geoffrey didn't pull a performance out of the bag to satisfy Gaius soon, then the evening would be over before Arthur got the chance to practice himself.

In the end, thoroughly disgruntled with just about everything, Arthur turned and headed towards the back of the hall where he knew he'd find Merlin.

Merlin was crouched on the floor in front of a large canvas, paint brush in hand and a look of intense concentration on his face. There are a few other people assisting him, but it was Merlin who held Arthur's attention.

He'd never seen him work before – despite the promises, there just hadn't been the time to visit Merlin's studio. Which was a shame, Arthur realised, because there was something completely soothing about the look of pure contentment on Merlin's face as he worked.

A quick glance down the other end of the room confirmed to Arthur that he wouldn't be rehearsing any time soon, so he pulled up a nearby chair and settled down to watch. All the while doing his best to ignore Gwen, who was, Arthur was only too aware, grinning at him like a mad thing from her spot behind the tea urn.

It wasn't long before Merlin laid down his brush. He sat back on his heels and surveyed his work, giving a satisfied nod. Merlin tugged a dirty-looking rag from his pocket and proceeded to wipe the left-over paint from his hands.

"That looks really good." Arthur got to his feet and walked to stand beside Merlin.

Merlin started in surprise. "I didn't realise you were there." He stood and discarded the rag.

"Sorry." Arthur grinned ruefully. "Didn't mean to scare you. You were just so lost in your work I didn't like to interrupt."

Merlin smiled in return. "I get like that sometimes," he admitted, his tone almost wistful.

"You're lucky." Arthur doesn't even try to hide his envy. "There's not much in the business world to inspire me."

"Not even all those fancy suits?" Merlin teased.

Arthur pretended to think for a moment. "You may have a point," he said grudgingly.

"Oh, before I forget." Merlin turned to the side and began digging deep in a faded rucksack. "I have something for you."

"A present?" Arthur's eyes lit up at the prospect; he loved presents.

Merlin grinned. "I bet someone's a big fan of Christmas?"

"Shut up, Emrys, and hand it over." Arthur reached out and made a grabby hands motion. The jovial expression on his face turned to one of curiosity as Merlin handed him a blank DVD case. "I don't think we're quite close enough for us to be swapping porn just yet."

Merlin spluttered, a bright red flush spread over his cheeks and down the pale skin of his throat. "It's not porn."

Arthur popped the case open and stared at the two plain discs inside. "Are you going to tell me, or am I going to have to guess?"

Merlin shifted awkwardly, his face still a little pink. "I know a bloke at Uni who's really good with the whole technology thing." He gestured absently with his hands and didn't quite meet Arthur's gaze.

"And?" Arthur prodded and tried to ignore the fact that Gwen was now shamelessly eavesdropping.

"Well, he's got this machine or something that copies video onto DVD. The quality is really good apparently."

Arthur was nearly speechless as he began to understand what it was he was holding. "Merlin," he said slowly. "Is this..."

Merlin just nodded. "I thought you might like it. It was either that, or buy you a video recorder – and I'm not sure you're ready for that level of technology yet."

Arthur was so touched by the gesture that for once he genuinely couldn't find the words. "Thank you," he said, and never before have those words felt so inadequate.

"It's nothing." Merlin gave a small shrug and looked away.

"It's everything," Arthur insisted as he reached out and grabbed Merlin's wrist.

And that was the very moment that Merlin's phone chose to start ringing loudly.

"If that's my sister," Arthur muttered, "tell her I'm going to kill her."

Merlin laughed, tugged his phone from his jeans pocket, and then laughed. "Looks like you're going to be in need of a good alibi."

"You're kidding?" Arthur had only been joking, and he had to fight the rising annoyance that his own sister hadn't tried calling him first.

Merlin nodded absently as he scrolled through the text.

"What does she want?" Arthur tried his hardest not to snap. After all, it wasn't Merlin's fault that Morgana had this uncanny knack of intruding at the most inopportune moments.

"She's invited us around for takeaway," Merlin replied, eyes still fixed to his phone.

Arthur's heart gave a distinct lurch at the almost casual way Merlin said us without so much as a bat of an eyelid. Surely that must mean something, right?

"So do we?" Merlin looked up from his phone, eyes wide, guileless, and infinitely confusing.

"Why not." Arthur didn’t even pretend to think about it. "Tell her I'll have my usual."

*

"Are you ever going to make a move?"

Arthur slammed the dishwasher door shut and mentally cursed himself for making such a schoolboy error as to let Morgana corner him. "I fail to see how that is any of your business."

Morgana fixed him with a baleful glare. "Don't give me any of that crap, Arthur." She paused for a sip of wine before continuing the assault. "Now what's the problem? You're not usually so shy and retiring."

Arthur shrugged and tried his hardest for nonchalance. He wasn't ready to admit that the real problem was his fear that what he felt for Merlin was a lot more than simple attraction – certainly not to Morgana of all people.

"He likes you," she pressed, clearly in no mood to be thwarted.

"So why aren't you having this conversation with him?" Arthur hated that his voice sounded childish and petty, but Morgana always was could bring out the worst in him.

"Because you're my brother, and I don't know Merlin well enough yet to bully that much."

Arthur snorted; it was nice to know his sister had some limits, at least.

"And," Morgana continued, "because for some reason, he's convinced that you would never want someone like him."

Her last words hit Arthur like a blow to the chest. "What?"

"Not everyone has your buoyant self-confidence, brother dear."

"But he's gorgeous." It was the first time Arthur had said the words out loud, even to himself. But not even the fact that it was Morgana listening could have kept them inside any longer.

Morgana rolled her eyes. "I know that, and so do most other people who aren't Merlin."

Arthur shook his head slowly. "I can't believe he would think that."

"Well believe it." Morgana stepped into his personal space and placed her hands firmly on his shoulders. "And do something about it – fast. Or you're going to miss out. Gwen says there's already some bloke called Gwaine who's showing an interest in him."

Arthur practically growled at this last piece of information. He'd never liked that bastard, with his bouncy hair, amusing drinking tales, and his easy going nature. Pretending to be Arthur's friend when all the while he was nothing more than a...Merlin-stealer.

*

"Keep still, will you." Gwen's words were muffled by a mouthful of pins, but her glare still spoke volumes. "Unless you want your trousers to fall down on stage?"

"Well, stop sticking those damn things in me," Arthur protested. "You're getting a little too close for comfort."

Gwen looked at her hand, paused halfway up Arthur's inside seam, and then grinned. "Relax, Arthur. If I'd wanted to damage the Pendragon family jewels, I'd have done it while you were naked and asleep in my bed, not wide awake, fully clothed and in a room full of witnesses."

Merlin, who was hovering at Gwen's side, clutching a pin cushion and tape measure, chucked merrily at this for a moment. Then he looked at them in confusion. "You two went out?"

"A long time ago," Gwen replied through the pins.

"Until she dumped me for one of my best friends," Arthur added in his most convincing injured tone.

"But I thought..." Merlin caught Arthur's gaze and flushed. "Never mind."

"He plays for both teams," Gwen clarified, apparently having deduced with the problem was.

"Gwen!"

"What?" Gwen looked up at Arthur indignantly. "It's true."

"Still." Arthur gestured to their surroundings. "This is hardly the place."

Gwen tutted loudly. "For goodness sake, it's only Merlin. And he's hardly going to judge you for liking...well, you know."

"Hey!" It was Merlin's turn to protest this time.

"Oh honestly, don't you start, too. You're as bad as each other."

"Maybe we could just change the—OW!"

"Sorry." Gwen smiled sweetly. "My hand just slipped."

Arthur was not convinced. "You did that on purpose," he muttered sulkily, a ready pout appearing on his lips. Then he looked up and caught Merlin smiling at him, and suddenly it was all Arthur could do to fight the flush rapidly staining his cheeks.

*

The door to the pub swung open, admitting a biting gust of wind, and Merlin.

"It's snowing," he announced needlessly, and sank gratefully into a vacant seat.

Arthur didn't need to look outside to know this was the truth. There were delicate white flakes still clinging to Merlin's long lashes that he longed to kiss away.

Merlin dumped his bag onto to the table with a loud thud, art supplies spilling from the broken zip, and gratefully took the pint Arthur slid in his direction. "Thanks," he murmured, before taking a deep drink.

Arthur couldn't help but smile at the sight of Merlin's bright red mittens clutched around the glass. He wasn't sure quite what it was about them, but every time Merlin wore them, Arthur was struck with an overwhelming urge to hold his hand.

"That reminds me," Morgana said, apropos of nothing. "I spoke to Uther earlier." She paused and looked at Arthur for a moment before continuing. "He's going to be away over Christmas. Some skiing trip or other. Apparently the networking opportunities are just too good to miss."

Arthur didn't know why he was so surprised by this. After all, Uther never failed to disappoint. But there was still a small part of Arthur, a part that remembered the young boy who idolised his father, that still…hoped.

"I could cook," Morgana offered, but even she didn't sound convinced it was a good idea.

"I'd rather not die, just yet." Arthur gave his sister a tiny nod to show his appreciation though.

"You could come to ours," Merlin said suddenly. "Both of you; all of you, if you want. It'll just be me and Gaius, and you'll probably be forced to watch the Queen's speech, but it's better than food poisoning, right?"

Cautiousness be damned, Arthur slid his hand under the table and gently took hold of Merlin's. He felt the scratch of damp wool against his palm but held on tight, smiling softly in response to Merlin's rather startled expression.

Merlin squeezed back then, and Arthur sat back in his chair and allowed the flow of conversation to wash over him. He paid little heed to the eager festive plans being made – his whole world had narrowed down to the feel of Merlin's hand wrapped tightly in his own.

*

"I'm going to be sick," Merlin announced as Arthur swung his front door open.

"You'd better come in, then." Arthur smiled and gestured into the hallway.

"I'm serious," Merlin insisted as he shrugged off his coat and hung it in its now-usual spot.

"So am I," Arthur replied seriously. "I haven't had coffee yet and it's almost ten."

Merlin made a huffing sort of noise but followed Arthur into the kitchen just the same. He slumped down on one of the numerous stools, and looked, for all the world, like he was pouting.

Arthur banged around his kitchen for a moment, kick-starting his coffee machine into life. There was a distinctly warm and fuzzy feeling in his chest and Arthur was so content with the sheer domesticity of the scene that he could have almost purred in satisfaction. Without having to ask, he made Merlin's drink exactly as he liked. "Here you go." He slid the mug across the worktop. "Are you ready to tell me what the problem is now?"

"Gwaine's sick – the bastard," was all Merlin said, and it was clear from the expression on his face that he expected this to be sufficient information.

Arthur was torn between glee at Merlin's new attitude towards his potential rival, and concern over the grey tinge now colouring Merlin's skin. "You're not ill as well, are you?" he asked, and pressed one hand quickly to Merlin's forehead. Arthur resolutely didn't think about how close Gwaine would have had to get to pass on his germs.

Merlin batted his hand away impatiently. "I'm fine," he muttered. Then, catching sight of Arthur's raised eyebrow, he added, "physically. Gwaine's got Chicken Pox."

"But that means he's—"

"Infectious," Merlin finished glumly.

"But the play?" Even now, Arthur still won't use the word Pantomime.

"Ever heard of understudies?" Merlin stared forlornly into his drink.

Arthur nodded. "I didn't know we had any."

"We do." Merlin finally looked up, his skin paler than ever.

"You?" Finally two and two made four for Arthur.

"I'm going to be sick," Merlin repeated his words of earlier.

Arthur took a step back. "Really? Because the bathroom's over there." He gestured to the far side of the room.

Merlin shook his head. "There's a slight chance I'm being a little melodramatic."

Arthur grinned wryly. "You'll be fine. You pretty much know everyone's parts, anyway. You're always prompting them at rehearsals."

"That's hardly the point." Merlin glared at him just a little.

"Then what is?"

Merlin placed his cup firmly on the worktop and hopped off his stool. "I can't get up on a stage in front of hundreds of people."

That stopped Arthur in his tracks for a moment. "Hundreds?" he questioned.

Merlin nodded. "The theatre's sold out for all six shows. Morgana had your father's marketing team on the case."

"That's my department," Arthur complained bitterly. "No one said anything."

Merlin just shrugged, obviously more concerned with his own issues.

"Treacherous bastards," Arthur muttered into his cup.

"Never mind them. I'm having a minor breakdown here."

"It'll be fine," Arthur soothed instantly. He stepped closer and wrapped an arm around Merlin's shoulders. "You realise this makes you my manservant now."

"Can we focus, please?" Merlin shot Arthur a warning glare.

"Sorry. Look, it really will be fine, I promise. I'll help you rehearse."

"You sound awfully confident."

"Of course," Arthur said cheerfully. "Pendragons never fail."

"But I'm not a Pendragon," Merlin pointed out stubbornly.

Arthur tightened his grip on Merlin, and dragged him into a one-armed hug. "No, but I am."

*

Gwaine had now been officially diagnosed with Chicken Pox, and according to the doctor would be in quarantine for another week. The news was greeted with tentative relief by most of the group, but was no help to Merlin, who would still have to take the stage on opening night.

The dress rehearsal was a disaster.

Despite Arthur's best efforts to reassure him, Merlin's nerves took hold the moment he stepped out on stage. He missed practically every cue and forgot lines that Arthur knew damn well that he knew. And the worst part of all, the part that made Arthur want to gather him up and hide him somewhere, was the expression Merlin wore throughout the entire ordeal that made him look like some startled woodland creature.

Arthur could feel the growing ripple of irritation through the reminder of the cast with every needless mistake of Merlin's. And even Gaius's perpetual frown looked deeper than usual. All of which was a vicious circle, because clearly Merlin could sense everyone's unease and this just made him more nervous, more uncertain.

"I thought you said he knew the lines."

Arthur looked from Gwen to where Merlin was talking forlornly to Gaius. "He does," he insisted. "He's word perfect every time we run through them. He just gets so damn nervous."

"He'll be okay on the night. I'm sure."

Arthur hadn't even noticed Freya standing by his side. He smiled at her gratefully; glad Merlin has at least one other person supporting him – even if he did suspect her of having ulterior motives.

There was a derisive snort behind them and Arthur turned round to see Geoffrey standing there. "You'd better hope so, girlie. If he keeps on screwing up like that he's going to bring the whole show down with him."

"That's not helping," Arthur replied through gritted teeth. He didn't know these people well enough to start falling out with them, but he wasn't going to stand back and let them just attack Merlin.

Geoffrey glared at him. "It's the truth," he replied, before stalking away.

"Merlin's coming," Gwen said softly. "Stop it."

Merlin still had that faintly sick look to him when he joined their group. "You guys should probably head off without me," he announced. "I'm going to give the pub a miss tonight."

"Don't let them get to you." Arthur bumped his shoulder against Merlin's with a smile.

"It's not that." Merlin pushed the slightly damp hair back from his forehead. "Not really."

"It'd do you good to get out," Gwen put in. "Take your mind off things."

"What, like how much I suck?" Merlin demanded. Then he flushed. "Sorry, I shouldn't take it out on you."

"That's it," Arthur said decisively. "You're coming out and no arguing. I'm not having you sitting in your bedroom listening to The Smiths and feeling sorry for yourself."

"Some friend you are," Merlin muttered mulishly.

"Very true," Arthur agreed. "And it's about time you recognised that fact. Now grab your coat and I'll give Morgana and the others a shout."

*

When she walked over to their table, Morgana took one look at Merlin's expression and promptly squeezed herself into the seat next to him. Ignoring her brother's rather put out expression in the process.

"You're worrying about nothing," she said briskly.

"That's easy for you to say." Merlin actually braved a tiny glare in her direction.

Arthur leant forward, so he could see past his sister's intrusive form. "Morgana's right. Everyone knows a bad dress rehearsal is a sign of a good first night."

"Yeah," Leon agreed from behind his pint. "Just wait till you have all those crowds cheering you on. You'll forget all about your nerves then."

Merlin paled visibly.

"You're not helping, Leon." And Arthur directed a swift kick under the table at his best friend.

"What you need is a good stiff drink," Morgana announced.

Gwen giggled. "I wondered what you were going to say then."

Merlin's cheeks gained just a little colour.

Morgana squeezed her way back out from around the table and headed in the direction of the bar, Leon's wallet safely clutched in her hand.

Arthur took the opportunity to slide further down the seat until he was practically pressed alongside Merlin. "You'll be fine," he said quietly, and then used the cover of the table top to give Merlin's hand a gentle squeeze.

"You think?" Merlin asked shakily, and he turned his hand palm up and laced his fingers with Arthur's.

"I know." Arthur's stomach flipped several somersaults and he couldn't shift the broad grin from his face.

"I could teach you some breathing exercises," Lance offered. "To help you calm down and centre before a performance."

Merlin frowned slightly at the suggestion.

"Lance here is a bit of a yoga guru," Arthur explained. "He's one of those holistic my body is a temple types. That's why he's not normally in the pub with us unhealthy mere mortals."

"It works," Gwen commented, leaning forward in her seat. "I'd never have made it through my interview at the BBC without it."

"It's got to be worth a try," Merlin said uncertainly. "What do you think?" He turned to Arthur.

Arthur couldn't resist tracing circles on the back of Merlin's hand with his thumb. "If Lance says it'll help, that's good enough for me."

"Okay." Merlin smiled nervously at Lance. "I'll do it. Thank you."

"Come over to ours tomorrow," Gwen suggested. "I still have some adjustments to make to your costume. You're welcome to join us too, Arthur," she added slyly, then jerked in her seat a little as his foot rapped sharply against her ankle.

*

"Did it work?" Arthur hovered behind at Merlin's side as he ran through the breathing exercises that Lance had showed him. "Do you feel calm?"

"I might," Merlin replied, cracking one eye open to glare at Arthur. "If you weren't hovering around me like some kind of annoying fly."

"Oh, right. Sorry." Arthur could have kicked himself for being so stupid. Of course Merlin would want some time to himself; he was probably terrified at the prospect of going on stage soon. "I'll just leave you to it, then."

"No, Arthur." Merlin got to his feet and grabbed hold of Arthur's wrist. "Wait."

Arthur turned back around and looked at him warily. "It's okay," he muttered.

Merlin shook his head. "It's not. I shouldn't take it out on you when you're just trying to help."

"Trying being the operative word, I think," Arthur replied ruefully.

Merlin smiled softly and slid his hand down Arthur's arm until he had hold of his hand. "That's what I like about you. That you care enough to want to try."

"As opposed to my more insect-like qualities?" Arthur stepped a little closer and took hold of Merlin's other hand.

Merlin laughed properly for the first time in days, and it wasn't until that moment that Arthur realised how much he'd missed the sight of Merlin, head thrown back, throat bared vulnerably.

"You're beautiful, you know that?" The words were out of his mouth before Arthur had even had a chance to process them. And now all he could do was wait in horrified silence for Merlin's reaction.

"What?" Confused really was an adorable look on Merlin, Arthur decided.

He stepped even closer. "You. Are. Beautiful," Arthur repeated earnestly.

Spots of bright colour dotted along Merlin's cheekbones. "Arthur, don't," he said, and it sounded so much like a plea that Arthur's heart clenched in his chest.

"Don't what?" He used their joined hands to pull Merlin closer still, and then leaned in close until the tip of his nose was trailing along Merlin's jaw line. "You want me to stop this?" Arthur asked, and was surprised at just how hoarse his voice came out.

Merlin didn't speak. In reply he just freed one of his hands from Arthur's grasp and curled it tightly around the back of his neck; his fingers toyed with the hair at Arthur's nape.

That was all the encouragement Arthur needed. He hadn't planned this. He had, in fact, planned a very careful seduction of Merlin for after the show was over, but this, right now, it just felt so right that he couldn't stop it even if he’d wanted to.

Just as Arthur was working out the perfect way to kiss Merlin, the decision was taken out of his hands. Clearly the more impatient of the two, Merlin leant forward and pressed their lips together insistently

Arthur let out a cry of surprise which was muffled by Merlin's eager kisses – given Merlin's earlier reticence, Arthur had fully expected to have to take the lead in this encounter. But then Merlin pulled Arthur's bottom lip into his mouth, sucking and nibbling on it, and Arthur wasn't sure how much longer he could resist the temptation to throw Merlin down on the nearest surface and thoroughly debauch him. Although from the way he was kissing right now, it seemed like Merlin was quite the expert in debauchment himself.

Arthur's hands slid onto Merlin's waist, holding tightly and pulling their bodies flush together. He couldn't stifle the groan that escaped his lips at the feel of Merlin's erection pressing insistently against his thigh.

The sudden sound of conversation brought them both back to their current surroundings. Arthur pulled away reluctantly – he let his forehead rest against Merlin's, his eyes roving eagerly over every inch of Merlin's flushed face.

"Bet you're not worried about the play anymore." Arthur grinned smugly.

Merlin gave him a dazed smile. "What play?"

*

"I told you there was nothing to worry about." Arthur turned and grinned at Merlin.

"Smugness is not one of your more attractive qualities," Merlin replied, and reached out to flick the tip of Arthur's nose.

Arthur wriggled out of the way just in time. "Admit it; you secretly loved it didn't you?"

Merlin rolled his eyes. "What was it gave me away – the sweaty palms or the way I hyperventilated between every scene?"

"And people say I'm a drama queen." Arthur gave Merlin a quick poke to the ribs which had him squirming indignantly. "Didn't you even enjoy it a tiny little bit? All the applause and the adoring fans?"

"I don't think I'm going to be adorning any bedroom walls just yet."

"Oh, I don't know." Arthur leered slightly. "There's a spot on my wall earmarked for your picture already."

"Next to the countless pictures of you?" Merlin laughed. "Morgana's told me all about them."

"I was ten," Arthur protested. "I really think you should stay away from my sister. She's a dreadful influence on you."

"Not much chance of that happening, I'm afraid. We're invited round for a celebration dinner tomorrow. Leon's cooking."

"Thank god for that." Arthur paused for a moment. "Did you really not enjoy it at all?"

Merlin shrugged. "The after party was fun."

"Especially all that free champagne."

"I wouldn't know about that," Merlin replied. "I ended up wearing more of it than I got to drink."

Arthur rolled over so he had Merlin pinned beneath him. He lowered his head and licked a slow trail up Merlin's neck. "I know," he murmured. "And it tastes great on you."