Disclaimer: Meh, I own nothing. Does it keep me up at night? Sometimes, sure. Am I used to it? Yeah, most days.

So How Do You Feel About Me?

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"You never told me if you like it or not, you know." Arthur began, trying to sound teasing as he said it, as he sat at Merlin's kitchen table, picking at the pizza Merlin had put in front of him not twenty minutes ago.

It had been… an interesting sort of day, to say the least. After coming down from the humiliation, finding out all about his drunken escapades, getting whatever details he could manage to out of Gwaine and Elyan in their own hung-over states—Jesus, was Arthur's logic fucked up!—Merlin had insisted, despite his jokes about Arthur still owing him a blowjob, that they find out from the proper authorities what the hell Arthur was supposed to do to take care of a new tattoo. By the time they had done that, tracked down the shop that he'd received it from, found out all the necessary care information, and bought the proper ointment, it was well into the early evening, so they had picked up a pizza on the way back to Merlin's flat, and then settled in at his kitchen table.

In the midst of all that, they really hadn't discussed the subject any further. They hadn't discussed how Arthur felt about Merlin—which, okay, was pretty obvious by now, but he would have liked to discuss it sober, thank you very much—or if Merlin even felt the same way about him. From the way he had kissed Arthur that morning, and his reaction to Arthur's tattoo, and the way he seemed to be taking everything in stride, Arthur liked to believe that he felt the same way, but…

With Merlin, he wasn't always so sure.

"Of course I like it," Merlin rolled his eyes, biting into a slice of pizza from where he was sitting just next to Arthur, in the exact same seat he'd been in when they had first discussed things. "You've permanently put my name on you—who wouldn't like something like that?" He asked, almost teasing with the question.

"People who don't feel the same way as the person who got the tattoo?" Arthur suggested, trying, in a roundabout sort of way, to ask what had been plaguing him all damn day. Merlin now knew how Arthur felt about him, knew the lengths he was willing to go to to prove it, but… other than the kisses, other than telling him he hadn't completely wrecked their friendship, other than saying he found it sexy, other than the sexual jokes—which, yeah, they were amusing and all, but, really, the innuendo wasn't exactly something that had been missing from their relationship before then anyway—he had said little to confirm or deny his own feelings for Arthur.

And it was driving him damn near mad, to be honest. Everything about Arthur, about the way he felt about Merlin, was now laid out on the table, and Merlin had done nothing in response to it. He hadn't said, "I feel the same way," or "Sorry, I don't think about you like that," or even "I don't know how I feel about you, but do you want to shag anyway?" which would have been better than the nothing he was currently receiving.

"Good point." Merlin nodded, his face irritatingly neutral, though his lips tugged up just slightly, giving way to his amusement at the situation, at Arthur's response and questions.

Aggravated yet oddly amused, Arthur put his slice of pizza down on his plate and looked over at Merlin, his eyes hard with determination now.

"Merlin…" He sighed.

"What?"

"I need to know." He said gently.

"Arthur." Merlin sighed back, pushing his own food to the side and wiping his hands off on a napkin. "I already told you: this," He gestured to Arthur's collarbone. "Hasn't ruined anything between us. What you did last night—that doesn't ruin anything, either. I promise you that." He told him.

"But," Arthur shook his head. "Has it not ruined anything in the sense that we can still be friends, or has it not ruined anything in the sense that you feel the same way?"

Merlin pursed his lips, leaning towards Arthur the same way he had just that morning—and god damnit, his eyes were too sincere in that moment, too captivating for Arthur to resist letting his hand come up to cup the back of Merlin's head, staring into those stupid eyes and ignoring that damn smirk on his face.

"It's not ruined anything, Arthur." He mumbled, closing the distance, kissing him slowly, completely. "In that sense."

"I love you, Merlin." Arthur blurted out then, because it was driving him crazy, this whole dancing around the subject with half-answers and secret meanings, and he needed to know—needed to know if Merlin felt the same way or if he was just jerking him around—Merlin would never, but…—or… or what. "I fucking love you." He repeated, squeezing the back of Merlin's head gently, tugging at his hair when he didn't respond, just stared back at him, a dreamy sort of look in his eyes, the beginnings of an unreadable grin tugging at the corners of his mouth. "And I… I need to know: How do you… How do you feel about me?"

"Arthur Pendragon wants to talk about his feelings rather than snog the man who's name he got tattooed on him—never thought I'd live to see the day." He murmured in response.

Arthur cocked his head slightly, giving him his most serious of looks. Merlin's smile softened at that, and he let one of his own hands come up to card through Arthur's hair before escaping his grip. He leaned back in his chair and let out a soft sort of sigh before continuing, Arthur patiently waiting all the while for his reaction, his response.

"Do you remember when we first met?" He asked.

Arthur blinked at him before nodding, of course he remembered something like that. But what did that have to do with—

"We could barely stand each other—yeah? Not that that's changed much or anything," Merlin chuckled carefully, eyes on Arthur the entire time. "Anyway, I went home that night and I called Lancelot and told him that I couldn't ever see you again. Because, if I did," He added quickly, holding up a finger to silence Arthur before he could say the retort that was just on the tip of his tongue. "I was going to fall in love with you. I saw you again, Arthur, and again and again and again." He shook his head. "You can call Lance and ask him, he'll tell you exactly what I just did, but it won't change anything, Arthur, because it's been too long and I've… I love you, too, all right? And last night—last night," He shook his head again, exasperation and something like impatience on his face. "Was like a dream. I couldn't… couldn't believe you felt—feel the same way, and it's… Do you have any idea how hard it was to refuse you last night? Jesus, Arthur. Jesus."

Arthur felt himself grinning widely, madly, Merlin's adorable, flustered speech echoing, replaying itself in his head again and again and again already. Merlin loved him, too. That was all he had heard. Merlin loved him, too.

"We're both such idiots." He chuckled then.

"Yeah, we are." Merlin agreed. "But, I mean, at least I never got anyone's name tattooed on me as a show of ownership."

"Oh is that what this is?" Arthur asked coyly, gesturing to his collarbone.

"Obviously. You're mine now, Pendragon, and it's nice of you to let everyone know that." Merlin said, his tone husky, provocative as he leaned across the table and caught Arthur's mouth with his own again.

Arthur shook his head and laughed before kissing him back, grabbed the back of his head, yanked him closer across the table, letting his worries and lingering thoughts about curses—what did Gwaine know, anyway?—slip away as he fell deeper into the kiss.

Arthur Pendragon didn't believe in curses anyway.

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