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When Arthur and his friends tumbled inside the small cafe with their backpacks, laughing and sweaty after football practice, Arthur wasn’t expecting his heart to go completely batshit crazy inside his chest. He’d already had his workout for the day; there was no need for his heart to go this wild. But Arthur’s heart didn’t care.
Why? Because of the boy behind the counter.
Arthur had never seen him before in his life, which was surprising because this town was filled with kids who all went to Avalon. So, it was all the more shock to Arthur’s core when he entered the cafe and came face-to-face with an unknown mystery boy who he could only describe through a string of exclamations and expletives:
Shit. Holy shit—oh my god who the hell is this fantastic guy—he’s so cute oh my god. Fuck! Arthur thought, and then he saw the boy roll up his sleeves and he watched the muscles in his forearms move under his skin as he pressed down on some sort of juicer or whatever the hell it was. Fucking hell he’s so hot, but he’s—his face—he’s so fucking adorable. Oh my god I’m going mad.
He had pale skin, and must’ve been about Arthur’s height, with black hair that curled around his (large) ears and had slight little waves to it. His lips, his smile— it was gorgeous. Arthur’s sure that it was this boy’s rehearsed, overused customer service smile, but by god it had him weak in the knees.
A slap to Arthur’s back brought him out of his swooning—not that Arthur swooned, of course not—and his mate Leon gave him a look and gestured to the menu. “What do you want?”
And then, somehow, Arthur was right in front of this Holy Barista, staring back and forth between him and the menu with the dumb look of a fish.
“I’ll have—” he cleared his throat, “Um, an iced chai latte please. Large, please, that is.” Fuck, Arthur thought. Swallow me up.
But the Holy Barista just smiled, simple and sweet, and up close Arthur could see that his eyes were blue—astonishingly blue—so blue that he could swim in them forever. And no, Arthur will never admit that such a horrible, cheesy metaphor like that ever crossed his mind. Ever.
“All right,” Holy Barista said, his voice deep and mellow. “So that’s one chocolate frappuccino, an iced tea with a shot of raspberry, a vanilla cold brew with milk, a hot black tea, and an iced chai latte. Anything else?”
“Sounds great. How much?” Leon asked.
Arthur stood there dumbly as Leon collected fivers from everyone, unconsciously pulling one from his wallet as he watched the barista make their drinks. Leon pocketed the extra change, claiming it was gas money for “having to drive you bollocks everywhere,” which was fair enough.
They were the only ones in the cafe this late, 7pm that is, so Holy Barista merely announced the name of each drink when it was ready. Which was completely unsatisfactory to Arthur as he had wanted to introduce himself. Nonetheless, Arthur watched from his seat (which he did not pick just because it had a view of the front counter) as the Holy Barista finished up with his drink and announced it.
Arthur’s chair screeched against the tile as he got up, but he was quick enough that the barista hadn’t set the drink down yet. Arthur approached the counter and held out his hand so that he would have to give it to him directly. And then maybe he’d be close enough to read Holy Barista’s name tag and strike up a conversation.
“Here you go,” Holy Barista said, smiling, and he placed the latte into Arthur’s hand.
“Thanks,” Arthur said, his fingers skimming the barista’s, his eyes searching his apron for a name tag that proved nonexistent. There goes that plan.
Arthur walked back to the table, defeated.
“Come on,” Percy groaned. “I’d never do that. Arthur might, though.”
“Do what?”
“Here we go.” Leon sighed.
“Arthur,” Lance started, “if you’re at a party, and you’re having fun, drinking a beer, whatever, and then a girl comes up to you and just starts kissing you—like, full on make-out—are you pulling away because you don’t know her?”
“What the hell kind of question is that?” Arthur asked.
“It happened to Elyan,” Percy replied. “Allegedly.”
“It did!” Elyan said. “Last Friday. A good half-hour snog and I didn’t even get her name.”
“How did I miss this in the ten seconds I was gone to get my drink?”
“Just answer the question. Would you pull away or not?” Lance asked.
“Well, probably? I don’t really want to just kiss some stranger,” Arthur said.
“See, look at that; Pendragon’s got some class after all!” Percy said.
“Or if you’re Elyan, you just shut up as she shoves her tongue down your throat,” Leon said.
The conversation went on and on, Elyan doing his best to defend himself, which proved futile. Meanwhile, Arthur watched the barista clean up for the night and occasionally sneak his phone from his pocket, thumbs firing away.
Twenty-five minutes later, Arthur was in agony. He kept half his attention on his friends, cracking jokes and nodding his head when he needed to, and the other half was spent discreetly watching Holy Barista in a normal, not at all creepy way. There was just something so alluring about him. He wished he could just go up there and ask him out, but he didn’t want to do it in front of his mates. Especially because said mates had no idea Arthur was gay.
He’d figured it out about a year ago, when he was 16 and none of his mates could shut up about the girls in their classes they liked—not that that’s necessarily changed—but Arthur remained questionably silent through it all.
Since then, he’s never found the right time to try to tell them. He knew they’d be fine about it, maybe a little awkward at first in the football locker rooms or something, but hopefully they’d come round. They were good mates, but Arthur didn’t want to test that by exiting the comfy closet he’d locked himself in, even if its walls were starting to cave in around him.
A few minutes later, Arthur figured out a new plan. He quickly finished off the rest of his latte and got up to order a water. (AKA, another excuse to talk to him).
“Hi, is there something else I can get you?” Holy Barista asked after quickly turning his phone off and shoving it back into his pocket.
“Just a cup of water, please,” Arthur said.
“Coming right up.” He smiled. And by god it looked so genuine; Arthur was definitely going mad.
Holy Barista passed the water over and Arthur took it. Then, he bit the bullet. He was going to shoot his shot if it was the last thing he ever did. Arthur resolutely ignored his friends in the corner of his eye and asked, “Hey, what’s your name? I haven’t seen you here before.”
“Oh, I’m Merlin. What about you?”
“Arthur.”
And suddenly, it felt as if he’d been punched in the chest. He gasped, images filling his head, completely unbidden—images that Arthur didn’t even know and yet were so familiar…
Merlin, pale, sick, lying on his horse, rasping: “I have to come with you.”
“No, Merlin. You’d die,” Arthur said, and squeezed his shoulder, his vision blurry with tears.
Arthur, carrying an injured Merlin on his shoulder. Only when he had set him down, the rocks fell and the bandits swarmed. Arthur screamed as he lost sight of Merlin.
Merlin, covered head to toe in mud, walking towards Arthur with a bright grin. Arthur hugged him tight as soon as he was close enough, paying the mud no mind. “I’m so glad you’re okay,” Arthur said, and Merlin murmured his agreement into Arthur’s shoulder.
Merlin, holding Arthur’s hand, running through a corridor, until he opened a door and shoved Arthur against it as soon as it shut. Arthur gasped, surprised, and Merlin crowded his space, smiling something fierce. Arthur’s heart swelled and Merlin’s eyes glimmered shut as he captured the bow of Arthur’s lips in a kiss.
“I’m so glad we can finally do this,” Merlin whispered. That’s when Arthur promptly kissed back, holding Merlin’s jaw steady, and Merlin’s hands ran through Arthur’s hair. Heavenly.
Suddenly, Arthur was back in the cafe, staring back at an equally surprised Merlin.
Merlin.
Arthur let out a bark of a laugh, free and happy. Giggles rose up out of Merlin too.
And then Merlin came around the counter and launched himself at Arthur.
He buried his nose into Arthur’s neck, breathing deeply, and Arthur could’ve fainted at how comfortable —natural— it felt. He wrapped his arms securely around Merlin’s waist, moving his hands up and down.
They pulled apart, just barely, to look at each other’s faces. Arthur frowned when he saw Merlin was crying. He brushed his thumb across Merlin’s cheek.
“I didn’t remember,” Merlin whispered, his voice wobbly. “Not until you said your name, I didn’t remember.”
“I can’t believe it’s you,” Arthur said, choked up. “I—I didn’t…”
“Me neither,” Merlin said, and then he reached to wipe Arthur’s tears away.
Arthur pressed his forehead to Merlin’s. “I love you so much.”
“I love you too, Arthur. Gods, I missed you. How does that even make sense? I didn’t know you until just now, but…it feels like my life before this wasn’t even real.”
“It is now,” Arthur said. “Real. We’re here.”
Merlin smiled, small and private. “Once and future,” he whispered, and then he kissed Arthur. They kissed slow, sure, natural. Arthur couldn’t think of anything else besides the overwhelming joy bursting through his heart. It was odd, actually. He could barely describe it. The only thing that came to mind were two simple words:
Merlin’s home.
“Arthur,” Merlin whispered, breaking off the kiss. “I can’t believe it’s really you.”
“It’s me, you dollophead.”
Merlin’s face split into a grin. “That’s my word,” he answered.
Elsewhere in the cafe, Arthur’s friends stared at them in pure astonishment.
“Hey, mates,” Elyan said, “I think Arthur might be gay.”
“Does he even know that guy?” Percy asked.
“Maybe the barista just pounced on him,” Leon suggested.
“Did you not see, Leon? He literally did!” Lance laughed.
“I don’t see Arthur pulling away, do you?” Elyan asked.
“Oh my god,” Percy groaned. “Fine, Elyan. You win.”
“No,” Leon said. “I think Arthur wins.”