Title: Lucky in Love
Rating: R (me being paranoid, suggestive themes)
Character/s: Merlin, Arthur
Summary: He had never been a lucky man until he had fallen in love.
Warnings: Pure and utter fluff
Word Count: 999
Author's Notes: Another continuation on the "ball" 'verse.
You hum to yourself as you cook dinner, determined that you were going to make a good job of it for once. The last three times you had tried, you had both taken one bite and called for a take-away. But you had settled for something simple with the hope it would enable you to score points. The shower is still running and your body itches to join your husband under the hot sprays of water, but you know the surprise will be ruined if you let other parts of your anatomy rule your brain. That would be a sure way of ruining dinner.
The timer goes off just as the water stops and you grin to yourself. You know his habits well, possible better than he knows them himself. You knew precisely how long it would have taken him to wash and change. He had left you sprawled on the sofa and you knew he would believe you to still be there. In fairness, that was not your fault. After the heated make out and groping session you had found yourself subjected to the second you both walked through the door, you knew you were not to blame if your mind had shut down.
Neither was he, however, for the stress of the job was beginning to get to you both. An important deal was coming up and he had refused to leave your side even when you were working late. He claimed it was the only way he knew you would eat and actually remember to come home, but you know differently. He didn’t want to face the empty house without you. You can’t blame him, for you would have done the same thing.
“Arthur?” A smile immediately tilts the edge of your mouth as you hear your name being called. No doubt he has made it to the living room and realised you are not where he left you. He deserves this surprise; he’s been working as hard as you. After all, as your assistant, every meeting you decide you need, every piece of paperwork that needs another stamp of approval: it’s up to him to obtain it for you. You might have to make the decisions, but they are only effective because he is working behind you.
“In the kitchen,” you call back, wishing you could see the way the frown would just pinch the edge of his nose as he tries to keep a somewhat startled expression of his face at the knowledge of your location. You couldn’t help it if culinary delights were not your speciality.
“What are you doing?” Glancing over your shoulder, you feel your eyes sparkle. His hair is still jetting up all over the place and the t-shirt he is drowned in isn’t quite long enough; it’s yours. Lose pyjama trousers only just stay over his slender hips and you have to force yourself to turn back to the food.
“Can you get the wine?” You ask innocently, watching as he comes closer, tentatively sniffing. His eyes widen in surprise over the fact that nothing, as of yet, has burnt.
“Are you cooking me dinner, Arthur?”
“It’s about time,” you murmur, brushing your lips against his cheek. “It’s almost done, pick what you want.”
You don’t even pretend to deny your eyes are locked firmly on his arse as he walks away, and if the glance he throws over his shoulder is anything to go by, he knows. You pull the plates towards you and begin dishing up as you hear Merlin pouring the wine.
To your delight, it is not only edible, but even has some taste. The look of rapture on Merlin’s face makes up for lack of any sort of presentation.
“What made you want to do this?”
You shrug, a fond smile tugging at the corners of your lips.
“You keep me ticking over during the day, the very least I could do was return the favour when we got home.”
“You have other ways,” he says innocently, but you are no fool. The days of believing his naivety are long gone, you know the wicked thoughts that spiral behind his gleaming eyes. You almost choke on your wine as he winks, and before you know it he is by your side, deft hands loosening your tie. He doesn’t stop there, one hand slipping into your shirt.
“Can we dance?” You ask quietly and his face lights up as he nods, taking your hand and pulling you to your feet. There is no music, but you don’t need it as you hold him close, your bodies moulding as one as you move together.
“What’s all this for?” He breathes into your neck. You can feel his eyelashes tickling your skin, you know he has closed his eyes as he leans his head against your shoulder. You kiss the top of his head.
“It’s been a hard day,” you admit, knowing by his intake of breath he hadn’t been expecting that. You never admit to things being hard.
“Hard month more like,” he mutters and you can’t find it within yourself to disagree. After all, sex over random pieces of furniture in your office had occurred at least three times a week. Right now, it hadn’t happened for over a month.
It was as if he sensed your thoughts, suddenly drawing back and linking your fingers. His eyes were sparkling and he began to tug you towards the bedroom. You laugh as you stumble along behind him. When he reaches the door, he pauses to slip his fingers through your belt loops and haul you close.
“I believe the first time we danced the evening had a very particular outcome?” He said quietly, eyes locked on your lips. You gulp, audibly, images of a masked stranger making love to you under the stars. You nod and Merlin grins, pulling you into the room.
You had never considered yourself a lucky man until you fell in love.