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He can remember the first time he rode a bike. Uther held it steady as Arthur climbed on, small hands reaching for the handlebars, an eagerness to please his father, feet testing the pedals. He can remember pushing forwards, trying to pedal fast and maintain his balance, watching Morgana far, far ahead.
He can remember the first day of high school, walking into class, the nerves and the sweaty palms. He can even remember the very first kiss he shared with Gwen, when they were seven and still played hide and seek.
The point is, Arthur can remember his first time for many things, but he can’t pinpoint the exact moment when his heart started to flutter at the sight of his best friend.
Merlin shoves Arthur playfully. “You’re being awfully quiet.” He looks at Arthur for a long moment until Arthur realises that he hasn’t responded.
“I’m fine, Merlin,” he says, trying for an exasperated eye roll. Merlin hums, eyeing him carefully. His eyelashes are long, prettily framing his eyes. Arthur wants to reach out and run his thumb over the side of Merlin’s face.
“Do you want to come over?” Merlin sounds normal again, like he isn’t scrutinising Arthur under a microscope. “Mum’s away this weekend.”
All of a sudden, Arthur feels shy. It’s not like he hasn’t been to Merlin’s house before, and he’s certainly been there in Hunith’s absence, but something still feels strange and oddly exhilarating. Like he has a schoolboy crush, whispers a traitorous voice in his head. It sounds suspiciously like Morgana, so he tells it to shut up. “Sure.”
That evening, Arthur settles himself on the couch. He’s seen the Johnny English movies far too many times to be excited, but as he watches Merlin put the DVDs in, he finds himself looking forward to the parts that he knows will make Merlin snort with laughter. The thought comes without any warning, and Arthur is still staring at nothing in particular while trying to make sense of the strange, recurring thoughts when Merlin drops down beside him and grabs the blanket.
“It’s cold.” He somehow manages to make it sound like a whine even though he’s smiling. “I love these movies. Mum and I used to watch them all the time.”
“Really? I can’t stand the main guy,” Arthur pauses for effect, “probably because he reminds me of you.”
“Oi!” Merlin shoots him a glare. Arthur shrugs as innocently as he can manage. “That was so uncalled for,” says Merlin, throwing a half hearted punch at Arthur’s arm.
Arthur catches it easily, and uses it to drag Merlin closer. “Why are you always so cold?” he complains. The movie starts, cutting off Merlin’s no doubt snarky reply, and they lapse into silence.
Arthur finds he can’t focus on the film. His gaze keeps being drawn to the warmth beside him. Merlin’s right is pressed against Arthur’s left, and he can’t pretend he knows how he feels. He and Merlin are just friends, Arthur reminds himself when he catches himself studying Merlin’s profile.
Some time later, he’s shaken awake. He blinks his eyes open slowly. Merlin’s staring down at him, and it’s dark outside. The credits are rolling on screen.
“- possibly fall asleep? Honestly,” Merlin says, shaking his head. His eyes are soft, though, and there’s no mocking in his words.
Arthur rubs his hand over his eyes. “Like I said, Merlin, it’s not that interesting, especially since I have a real-life version right he- Oomph!” He’s cut off as Merlin lunges at him, pinning him down on the couch.
It’s nothing, really. Arthur has played in more sports teams than he can count, and flipping Merlin back is no difficult feat. But something holds him back, and he watches Merlin, waiting - wanting - to see his next move.
Merlin licks his lips unconsciously. His gaze slips down to Arthur’s lips, and for a split second, Arthur wonders what it would be like to kiss him, to kiss his best friend, before, suddenly, it’s happening. Merlin leans down and presses his mouth to Arthur’s, and Arthur feels his breathing hitch, and his eyes widen in shock.
It goes on for a few seconds before the doorbell rings and Arthur gathers his thoughts enough to free his arms from Merlin’s grip. He pushes him off, and stumbles off the couch. Merlin’s eyes are terrified. He opens his mouth and closes it again.
“I’d- I’d better get-”
“It’s probably Morgana.” Arthur hesitates. He doesn’t know what to say. Should he be angry? It wasn’t as if the thought hadn’t crossed his mind. His stomach clenches unpleasantly. They’re supposed to be friends. It isn’t supposed to be complicated. He isn’t supposed to want. “I,” he starts after a moment, “I’ll see you tomorrow.”
Merlin nods. He looks miserable, and Arthur wishes he could offer some comfort, but he doesn’t know how to react, how he feels, and he can’t remember when everything changed.
On the drive home, Arthur feels Morgana watching him. He knows she wants to ask, knows she’ll figure it out as soon as he meets her eyes. But she stays quiet, and he’s grateful for the moment of peace.
It doesn’t last long. Morgana backs the car into the garage, turns the light on and opens her mouth to say something.
Arthur interrupts. “I’ve fucked everything up.” The whole car ride, he’s been thinking and thinking. Trying to figure it out. If he’s honest with himself, he still doesn’t know what any of this means. But he does know what whatever happened won’t be easy to clear up.
“Oh, Arthur,” Morgana says, reaching for him. Arthur allows himself to be tugged closer, and Morgana wraps her arms around him before saying, “If I know you and Merlin at all, you’ll figure it out.”
“Maybe.” He doesn’t feel like speaking. Ever.
“Arthur, just don’t rush yourself,” whispers Morgana. “In time, it’ll fall into place.”
He replays Morgana’s words later, as he lies awake staring at the ceiling. Could it be that simple?
The next morning, walking into class is painfully awkward. Arthur meets Merlin’s eyes, and almost wishes he hadn’t. There’s a heaviness in them. Arthur wants to make it go away. He takes his usual seat next to Merlin, who tenses in surprise.
Arthur’s spent the whole night wide awake, thinking about what he’s going to say to Merlin when he gets the chance, and now that he’s here, he doesn’t know how to voice any of it. Morgana has always said that Arthur is no good with emotions, and the truth of it burns his throat until he can’t speak.
It isn’t until halfway through the class that he finally works up the courage.
“Merl-”
“Arthur, I’m sorry.”
Arthur swallows uncomfortably. “I should be the one apologising, Merlin.”
Merlin’s lips twitch upwards at the familiar way Arthur says his name. But then he sobers again. “What for? I’m-”
Arthur holds up a hand. “Hang on, let me just get this out, yeah?” He waits for Merlin’s nod before continuing. “I shouldn’t have left like that. I was confused, and taken by surprise, but upsetting you was not my intention. Merlin,” he pauses, “Merlin, I think we should try last night again.”
Merlin gapes at him. “I don’t understand,” he says finally, somehow managing to make it sound like a question. “You’re not.. mad?”
Part of Arthur wants to kiss Merlin right there, in the middle of class. Part of Arthur wants to have everything figured out, regardless of what Morgana said to him last night. He settles for reaching for Merlin’s hand under the desk and twining their fingers together.
“You know, that speech sounded so ridiculously noble,” says Merlin, later. They’re leaning against a tree, at the start of their lunch break. Arthur absolutely does not blush.
It’s a secluded corner, and the situation is making Arthur feel awkward. He doesn’t know what to say or what to do with his hands. He fidgets. Merlin reaches out to still his hands, and smiles softly.
“It’s okay, Arthur. You don’t have to know how you feel.” He looks at the ground. “I understand.”
And all of a sudden, it feels like things are falling into place, and when Arthur leans in to kiss Merlin, it feels right. He’s happy, and Merlin smiles into the kiss, and Arthur thinks that maybe Morgana was right, and things are falling into place already.