For Claire (twosidesofthesamepenis), my best friend. I felt inspired after googling Christmas Trees. It’s out of season but still, ily mon petit noire <3
Merthur Modern AU-homeless!merlin and businessman!arthur meet on Christmas Eve when Arthur sees an, albeit dirty, but beautiful stranger shivering to death on a park bench.
“Hey,” says Arthur, as he strides over with the confidence that the CEO of Pendragon Industries should, “aren’t you freezing to death there?”
“Yeah, but where else have I got to go?” replies the man, looking the tall blond straight and hard in the eye; he couldn’t deal with the usual bullshit. Not on Christmas Eve. Arthur let out a small chuckle as he sat next to the stick thin man. He was wearing a beanie hat pulled right down over his large ears, his nose was set straight and Arthur shamelessly took in the way the streetlight above them illuminated the side of the man’s face, leaving a halo like rim of light which followed the sharp lines of his jaw and cheekbones. How it made the gold specks in his blue eyes sparkle. The man shivered and shuffled uneasily and shoved his hands under his armpits, trying to warm up.
“Christmas alone, huh?” Arthur asked softly.
“Hmm”, grumbled the man, looking at his feet. He looked so despondent that Arthur couldn’t keep quiet any longer.
“Spend Christmas at my flat, if you want. Well, it’s more of a penthouse but you know what I mean. I mean-I know how creepy that sounds and… and I guess you probably just want me to go away-” The man let out a small, knowing laugh at this, “-but my entire family have gone to Russia or somewhere as stupidly far away and Christmas alone in London is lonely as hell. Oh-and I don’t know how I’m going to eat such a shit-load of food-even me! So please, I don’t know, I’m babbling because you’re not talking so please reply or even run away because that would be a definite answer and mmmphh-” He was silenced by the other putting a finger on his lips.
“Shush, although you’re cute when you ramble-I’m Merlin by the way”
“Merlin” Murmured Arthur, as though trying the word out to see how it felt. It felt good. Right, somehow.
“Meerrlllinnnnn, will you do me the honour of spending Christmas with me, in my flat-but-not-flat-actually-a-penthouse?”
“Do you have a Christmas tree?”
“Yes, who doesn’t?”
“With lights and everything?”
“And yule log?”
“Then yes, lead the way, sire”