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Arthur doesn't know what he's expecting when he walks into the busy campus coffee shop for the first time one rainy Tuesday afternoon. Overpriced pastries? Probably. Shoddy service? More than likely. His tolerance for other human beings to be brought to a new low? Almost certainly.
What he's not expecting is his destiny to show up in the form of dark, flour-streaked hair, skinny spindly limbs, beautiful blue eyes and the most ridiculous ears ever spotted on the British Isles.
Well, not again anyway.
It's a game Arthur and his ‘destiny’ (Merlin, as he prefers to be known) have played through the years. Arthur begins a new life in wherever they are in time, the two of them meet again (sometimes early in Arthur's life, sometimes later), Merlin’s memory spell lifts, Arthur’s memories eventually flood back, the idiot has a chuckle at his expense, hugs him senseless and then cries for a bit when it hits him that Arthur's really with him again. After that they pick up from where they left off until Arthur's life in that time ends and it all starts again in his next life.
It’s been so long and all Arthur wants to do is stride straight up to Merlin and pull him into his arms, but he knows that Merlin’s still likely to be upset about Arthur’s last life – he had died far too young and Merlin always struggled with that. He said it reminded him too much of the first time. Being immortal gives Merlin way too much time to think about things, in Arthur’s opinion.
He’ll just have to make up for it in this one.
Merlin is mopping under an empty table in the corner whistling completely off-key to the quirky pop tune coming from the shop’s speakers and Arthur is simultaneously amused and charmed by it. Merlin is the only person he's ever met who makes him feel that way.
After watching Merlin for a few more moments and deciding that destiny can't possibly wait a moment longer, Arthur strides up to Merlin and prepares for the onslaught of emotions.
“Fancy meeting you here,” he says confidently, pleased when Merlin's eyes shoot up to meet his own, but confused when instead of looking at him with wonder and relief like Merlin usually does, he raises an amused eyebrow.
“Er, have we…?” he asks, pausing his mopping to look at Arthur properly. “I mean it's very possible we have, only I have an appalling memory for names. And faces. Actually I have an amazing memory for them, I just seem to get them scrambled all the time. In any case, I'm hitting a real blank right now, sorry mate.”
“Haha, good one,” says Arthur flatly, rolling his eyes. “Good to see you still have your sense of humour. I’m sorry I died so young last time, alright? I’ll try to stick around a bit longer this time round.”
The amusement on Merlin's face fades and something that looks a lot like concern takes its place.
“Hey man, I don't know what you've taken, but I'm sure it's nothing that a bit of coffee can't cure. I'll just get Alyssa to get you a double-shot, alright?”
“Merlin, stop dicking around,” says Arthur taking a step towards him, heart sinking when Merlin takes a nervous step back. “I'm here now. I'm back.”
“I, er, I think you might have the wrong guy, mate,” he says. “My name is Emmett.”
It's Arthur's turn to look concerned.
“No, you're Merlin ,” he says slowly as if that might help him understand it better, “and I'm Arthur.”
To Arthur's relief, Merlin's face breaks into a look of comprehension and he nods.
“Oh shit! I get it,” he smiles. “You're into all that LARPing business, aren't you? Is this you trying to recruit? Well, I'm flattered you thought of me, but between my dissertation and shifts here I don't really have time for anything else, sorry. I hope you find what you're looking for though.”
I’m looking for you, you prick, Arthur thinks to himself. I'm always only ever looking for you.
He doesn't say it out loud because it's clear that for whatever cruel reason of the universe, Merlin (or Emmett ) doesn't remember him. Annoyed, but not ready to admit defeat, Arthur makes up his mind to make Merlin remember somehow.
For now though, he'll just have a coffee.
***
Merlin once told him that in one of their lifetimes, around the Eighteenth century, he was scared Arthur wasn't going to remember him at all. Arthur was the captain of a naval ship and Merlin was just a kitchenhand. Their paths seldom crossed and when they did Arthur was often far too preoccupied with matters of the ship to pay Merlin much attention.
It was only when Arthur caught Merlin after he slid on a slick patch on the deck, nearly toppling over the edge into the choppy water below, that it all came rushing back to him. This was his Merlin, still wandering the world after all these years.
It had been one of his most frustrating incarnations. At a time when romantic relationships between men were an offence punishable by death and with there being very little that a powerful sea captain and a poor kitchenhand could possibly have to discuss, Arthur and Merlin had been forced to learn to live on secret smiles and fleeting moments together on land.
Arthur reasons that if he had managed to survive that, he can survive the slow process of getting Emmett to remember who he really is.
He quickly learns that even though Emmett and Merlin look the same and have same personality quirks and mannerisms, all the history between them is missing and Arthur can’t rely on anything that’s happened before to win him over. He’s never saved Emmett’s life and Emmett’s never saved his life. They’ve never kissed. They’ve never had sex. They’ve never fallen in love. In effect, Arthur has only known this man for two weeks.
The first time Arthur accidentally affectionately calls him an idiot, Emmett stops speaking to him until he apologises. When he starts trying to explain that he doesn’t actually mean it, it’s just how they talk, he remembers that Merlin – Emmett – doesn’t know that and promptly shuts up about it, reminding himself to be more careful in the future.
Arthur has no idea how he’s going to get Merlin back. Merlin’s always been the one who remembers first and now there’s no Gaius to point him in the right direction, no great dragon to talk to him about destiny and offer him help in riddles. This time he’s on his own.
His only hope is to make Emmett fall in love with him and hope that it triggers something.
So he resolves to visit the shop every day and flirt until he physically can’t anymore. He spends hours there under the guise of finishing coursework while all the while asking Emmett about his day, about his dissertation, about whatever customer has been the most awful that day. When Emmett begins sitting at his table during his breaks, Arthur silently celebrates it as a small victory. When he offers Arthur one of his earphones to play him a song he really likes, Arthur knows he’s definitely in with a chance; Merlin only ever shared his favourite music with people he really liked.
Bolstered by these new developments, Arthur begins scouring every green patch he can on his way to the coffee shop for dandelions because he knows that (much to his amusement – “They’re weeds, Merlin.”...“I know, Arthur, but they’re beautiful and I don’t think enough people appreciate that.” ) they were always Merlin’s favourite.
Arthur celebrates another small victory when, the first time Arthur hands him a dandelion, Emmett lets out a little gasp of surprise which he quickly covers with a cough, feigning nonchalance.
“So now you’re bringing me weeds? Very thoughtful, Arthur,” Emmett says snippily as he tucks the small yellow flower into the pocket of his apron, his real thoughts betrayed by the red on the tips of his ears. Arthur is even more pleased when he realises that at closing time (which is generally when Arthur concedes that he has to go home), the dandelion still looks as fresh as if it had been picked just minutes ago, almost as if it’s being kept alive by magic.
As he walks home from the coffee shop that day, Arthur can’t stop grinning.
***
“So you like me, yeah?” Emmett asks one Friday, about two months after Arthur first sees him at the coffee shop, and Arthur almost chokes on his coffee in surprise.
“I guess so,” says Arthur, wiping steamed milk from his chin. “I mean yeah I do, quite a bit actually, when you’re not trying to murder me with hot beverages.”
“Sorry about that,” says Emmett, handing Arthur another napkin and though there’s a glint of amusement in his eyes, he does look genuinely contrite. Not to mention downright nervous. He takes a deep breath before he speaks again. “Anyway, I was wondering… and it’s totally fine if you don’t want to, by the way – I know that it’s not everyone’s cup of tea. But I have two tickets and I was wondering if you’d like to come see my friend, Brie’s, production with me? It’s some kind of musical about Mother Theresa and it’s probably going to be a complete and utter trainwreck, but she got the lead part and she’s super excited about it and I promised I’d go. If you want to, I was thinking we could do dinner before. Or after, whichever you prefer. That’s if you even want to at all. I mean, I was pretty sure you might want to, what with the dandelions everyday and all that, but sometimes I…”
“Emmett, stop before you hurt yourself,” laughs Arthur. “I’d love to see the Mother Theresa trainwreck with you. Let’s meet for dinner before, okay?. Say, half-six at Angelo’s?”
“Alright, great,” grins Emmett with that smile that’s been Arthur’s weakness since the middle ages. “Later then, yeah?”
“Later,” Arthur smiles back at Emmett, silently celebrating another victory.
***
That night is the first time in this life that Arthur gets to see Merlin out of his work uniform and he can’t say he’s disappointed. Arthur’s always loved the colour blue on him, but it’s never hugged his body this tightly, never made Merlin look like the epitome of sin itself.
It takes real effort for him to have a normal, distraction-free conversation over dinner.
“So this is potentially a bit of a weird question,” says Emmett later that evening as he twirls pasta onto his fork, “but in a hypothetical world where magic is real, where would you be on a scale from ‘magic is so fucking awesome let’s use it to solve all the world’s problems’ to ‘magic is heresy, burn the witch’?”
“Are you trying to confess that you have magic, Emmett?” laughs Arthur and Merlin flushes scarlet. “I don’t mind if you do.”
“No, this is hypothetical ,” he replies, nudging Arthur’s foot under the table. “I just said that.”
“Okay well, hypothetically then,” says Arthur, smirking in amusement, “I would say that I’d probably be somewhere between ‘magic is an important part of the universe and while it can’t solve all problems, it can be used to do real good in the world’ and ‘magic-users are really hot’.”
Emmett cocks his head to the side and looks at Arthur as if trying to puzzle him out.
“What is it?” asks Arthur. “Do I have a bit of black pepper caught between my teeth or something?”
“No, your teeth are great,” says Emmett with a smile. “It’s just… I can't work you out, Arthur. You seem to know things about me without me having to tell you and… I don’t know. It just feels like I’ve known you a lot longer than a few months.”
“I know what you mean,” says Arthur, encouraged by Emmett’s words. As lovely as Emmett is, Arthur just really wants Merlin back and this is the first sign he’s seen that it might actually happen. “Maybe it’s just one of those magical things that can’t really be explained.”
“Yeah, I guess you’re right,” says Emmett, tucking into his pasta again. As he slurps up a particularly long piece of linguini, Arthur feels such a rush of adoration for the idiot in front of him that he can’t help but let out a small chuckle.
“What?” asks Emmett. There’s a small splatter of sauce on his nose where the linguini hit it on its way into his mouth.
“Nothing,” says Arthur, reaching out to wipe the splatter away with his thumb. “I’m just really glad I’m here with you.”
“Ditto,” Emmett breathes out with a shaky laugh, the tips of his ridiculous ears burning red.
***
“I’m so sorry again for doing that to you,” says Emmett, for what feels like the millionth time since they left the theatre, as they walk back hand-in-hand to the restaurant where Arthur left his car.
At some point during the evening, with little else to do that didn’t involve paying attention to the god-awful play being performed in front of him, Arthur had threaded his fingers through Emmett’s and he hasn’t quite been able to bring himself to let go yet. Thankfully, Emmett doesn’t seem to mind.
“God, I had a feeling it was going to be bad,” laughs Emmett, “but I clearly had no fucking idea.”
“I don’t know, I quite enjoyed myself,” grins Arthur. “The company was excellent.”
“The company was alright,” Emmett replies. “Brie was the only actor with any real talent though.”
Arthur is confused for a moment before he realises what he’s missed.
“Not the acting company, idiot,” Arthur laughs. “I was talking about you .”
“Oh,” Emmett says, quietly.
“Oh shit, sorry, I called you an idiot,” Arthur says, stopping in his tracks. He subconsciously grips Emmett’s hand tighter as if he’s afraid that he’ll suddenly run away.
“It’s alright,” says Emmett, giving Arthur’s hand a reassuring squeeze. “I know now that there’s never any venom behind it and for what it’s worth, I think you’re an idiot too.”
The air is charged all of a sudden and there’s silence as each of them stand trembling in anticipation, waiting to see who’ll move first.
Arthur decides he’s waited for this long enough and he leans in to capture Emmett’s lips in a soft kiss.
It’s so different to the last time they kissed. For all intents and purposes this is their first first-kiss since Arthur’s first reincarnation and everything is unfamiliar territory. Emmett is shy and hesitant and Arthur doesn’t want to scare him off, so he lets him set the pace. Arthur relaxes into it as their lips slide together softly until suddenly there’s a hitch in Emmett’s breath and something changes. The hands that were resting lightly on the small of Arthur’s back are now gripping the fabric as if to keep him in place and there’s an intensity to the kiss that hadn’t been there a second ago.
Merlin is back.
Merlin’s tongue teases lightly at Arthur’s mouth and Arthur parts his lips to let him in. It’s almost too messy, all clashing teeth and giddy laughter, but Arthur feels like it’s the best thing that’s ever happened to him. He would trade a thousand perfect and gentle Emmett kisses for this one messy, imperfect kiss with Merlin.
When they eventually break apart, Arthur gasping for air as if resurfacing from a deep dive, he realises Merlin is crying.
“Oh g-god, Arthur, I’m so sorry. I couldn’t get to you this time,” he says, between sobs. “You were right there and I kept trying but I just… I couldn’t… Arthur I…”
“Hey, come here,” says Arthur, bringing his hands up to Merlin’s face and wiping his tears away with his thumbs. “Don’t worry about that, okay? We’re both here now and I’m not going anywhere. Let’s just get you home, yeah?”
Merlin nods and slips his arm around Arthur’s waist. Arthur does the same and, feeling the happiest he’s felt in centuries, leads Merlin back to the car.
***
“So maybe next time don’t cast such a powerful memory spell on yourself that you think I’m a LARPer alright?” Arthur chuckles as they lie curled up together in the centre of Merlin’s bed a few hours later. “For a while there I thought I was going to be spending the rest of this life with Emmett .”
“It would serve you right for dying so fucking young in your last life,” says Merlin bitterly. “How is it that you survive the fucking second world war , live to a ripe old age only to be taken out at thirty years old by a motorcyle accident in your next? For fuck’s sake, Arthur, no wonder my spell was so strong. I was distraught.”
“I know, I know,” Arthur says, pressing a kiss into Merlin’s curls. “I’ll be more careful this time, I promise.”
“You’d better be,” says Merlin as he traces the creases in Arthur’s hand with his long fingers.
They sit in comfortable silence for a while, each processing the day’s events, until Merlin looks up at him with big blue eyes.
“You remembered about the dandelions, though” he smiles.
“Well yeah,” says Arthur. “I mean they’ve always been your favourite.”
“Have I ever told you why?” Merlin asks.
“It’s because you think they’re severely neglected and underrated as far as flowers go, right?”
“Kind of,” grins Merlin, suddenly untangling himself from Arthur. “Wait here.”
“Oh no! All my plans to leave my boyfriend’s lovely warm bed to go somewhere where it’s cold and there’s no cuddling – thwarted!”
“Don’t be a prick,” laughs Merlin, rummaging through his wardrobe for something before pulling out a large cardboard box and plonking it onto the bed in front of Arthur. “Now, just know that I’ve had this for a long time. Forever, in fact, and I’ve never shown it to you. This is me officially giving all my secrets away.”
“What is it?” Arthur asks, his heartbeat doubling in speed.
“Open it.”
Obediently, Arthur pulls off the box’s lid and is met with the bizarre sight of hundreds and hundreds of dandelions.
“It’s every single dandelion you’ve ever given me in any life,” explains Merlin. “This box confused the fuck out of Emmett, but thank god he seemed to realise that it was something important and didn’t chuck it out. I think that’s why he decided to take a chance on you, strange as he thought you were. You brought him more to add to it without him ever telling you about them.”
“Okay, but this still doesn’t explain why you like them so much,” says Arthur, who can’t stop smiling. In response, Merlin pulls out a tiny box from amongst the flowers.
“In your first life, where you were the Crowned Prince of Camelot and I was just your servant, we went out on a hunt. I was still really upset about my father’s recent death, even though I was trying to put on a brave face around you,” said Merlin. “You saw through this, of course, just like you always do and you were doing everything in your power to cheer me up: the usual banter, offering me a day off, offering to get Cook to bake extra honey bread for me next time she made it… god, I think you might have even gone so far as to thank me that day. Nothing was working. Eventually, while we rested for lunch, you finally got a real smile out of me.”
“I picked you a flower,” says Arthur, the memory rushing back to him. “I gave it to you and your face just lit up. I remember being so relieved. I was worried you were going to be sad and morose for the rest of your life and that I’d never get my wonderful, chatty, idiotic manservant back.”
Merlin opens the box to reveal another dandelion, stem a little bent and broken, but otherwise perfect in every way. Arthur knows without having to ask that this is that first dandelion and his breath hitches.
“Every lifetime you choose me,” says Merlin quietly, sitting down on the bed next to Arthur. “Every lifetime you could be anyone and spend it with anyone and every single time without fail you choose me. When you’ve been alive as long as I have you learn that time is the most precious thing in this world and yet you never fail to give me yours, Arthur. No matter who we are, where we are, when we are or how dangerous it might be.”
Merlin presses the box into Arthur’s hand.
“This is the most precious thing I can give you in return,” he says, and Arthur’s grip on the box tightens. “It’s not quite a hundred lifetimes, but it’s… it’s yours.”
Arthur knows he’s crying now, but he doesn’t care. Setting the box carefully aside, he sits up and cups Merlin’s face gently in his hands.
“I will always choose you,” he breathes, resting his forehead on Merlin’s, savouring the feeling of Merlin’s racing pulse against his fingertips and the way Merlin’s hands have settled gently against his collarbone. They sit like that for a few moments before Arthur suddenly starts giggling uncontrollably.
“Oi, you’re kind of killing the mood here,” Merlin says, unable to keep himself from laughing too. “What could you possibly find funny about this?”
“I’m sorry, it’s just… how many lifetimes have you spent yelling at me for collecting ‘useless’ things?” asks Arthur. “Meanwhile, you’ve been a plant-hoarder this whole time.”
“I knew there was a reason I always kept it a secret,” says Merlin, tackling Arthur to the mattress in a fierce kiss.
As Merlin’s lips dust his jaw, neck and torso, Arthur finds himself thankful for many things: the man straddling him who Arthur loves more than anything in the world, the box of dandelions next to him that are a tangible reminder of that, his own precious dandelion that’s a reminder to him that Merlin is the only choice ever worth making and, most importantly, that his destiny knows exactly what he’s doing in bed.