The First Meeting

Roxy and Eggsy would be vastly disappointed to find out that Merlin and Nimue met on Tinder.

After swiping right, they'd exchanged a suitable amount of sharp remarks before meeting for the first time near Victoria Street, London. Harry Potter (or Alexander Black, as he had named himself on the app) had chosen for them to meet at The Other Palace - a theatre, restaurant, and bar in the West End. Merlin (or 'definitely not Hamish'), had found the choice unusual and slightly overpriced, but agreed nonetheless.

Something about this 'Alexander' was familiar, but he couldn't quite place why.

Despite the nagging feeling that this man was far too young for him, and that his profession was too dangerous for anything more permanent than a casual fling, he agreed to a second date. A second date led to a third, and then he found himself deleting Tinder.

Alexander was a total mystery to him, and he'd always loved cracking puzzles. Hence, he turned to his favourite source of information - the MI5 databases. Being a wizard with computers had its pluses, but the name came up blank when tied with the physical description he had for Alexander. That meant that either he was a nobody, or he was using a fake name.

With Merlin's experience, this felt like the latter.

After some casual perusing before a date, he finally made the break he was looking for. With access to virtually every layer of MI5 and MI6's databases, he'd come up with a real name for this Alexander Black: Harry James Potter.

Pseudonyms

"Sorry I'm late!" Harry announced as he swung his coat over the back of his chair. Merlin had insisted on treating them that night; it meant that they had a secluded section of the restaurant to themselves, because he had a feeling they needed to figure out what was real about their relationship.

"We need to talk," Merlin said after they'd finished their main course. Harry's sappy grin fell slightly at that. "Harry." The panic that welled up in those lovely green eyes made Merlin want to take it all back, order dessert, and pretend that everything was fine.

"I'm-" he tried, cutting himself off. "Damien I'm sorry-"

"Hamish," he replied. "It's Hamish."

Confusion and furrowed eyebrows morphed into understanding, and a wonderful little laugh. They'd both been lying this whole time about something as mundane as their names. Even so, Merlin knew things weren't adding up. Namely, how Harry looked no older than twenty, despite supposedly being in his mid-thirties.

Secrets Revealed

Having come to the only sensible conclusion he could, Merlin decided that Harry was a wizard. Not in the way he himself was - an ace at computers and a multitude of other skills - but a literal, wand-waving wizard. There were several observations that led to this assumption, and he had discovered them all after moving in with Harry, just over a year and a half after they first started dating.

The first one was when he heard a smash. Startled out of his sleep, he shot downstairs, gun concealed, ready to shoot whoever was breaking into their little Islington apartment. What he found was Harry, muttering under his breath, as he poured himself a mug of coffee. At the time, he assumed it had been a figment of his imagination, but he didn't tend to imagine things, especially not crashes that sound distinctly like mugs breaking on the floor when Harry tried to reach the ones on the top shelf.

Next came an incident where he'd been somewhat in the field, and had maybe gotten injured. He wasn't nearly as badly hurt as the agent he'd been working with, and had staggered home and collapsed on the sofa. He didn't remember a lot of that incident, but he did remember some glowing lights and a pair of worried green eyes.

The last straw was literally finding Harry's wand. It was surprisingly ornate for a twig, and Merlin felt an uncomfortable warmth spreading through his fingers. Of course, that was when Harry came upstairs to see what had taken so long getting the monopoly set down.

"I can explain," he said, although Merlin was quite sure he couldn't.

"You're a wizard, love," Merlin supplied when Harry started to flounder. "It's alright. I know of wizards, although I've never met one. Some were involved in that business with Valentine-" He knew he'd said too much when Harry's eyes narrowed.

"Do continue," he said, folding his arms and settling himself down on the bed.

Nimue

"I want to join the Kingsman," Harry announced. Merlin choked on his tea.

"What? Why?" was his intelligent response. From what he knew, Harry came from old money, and could happily afford to keep his many households afloat, never work, and still have enough money for children, grandchildren, and great-grandchildren to live off of.

"I'm bored," Harry replied, and it bordered on a whine. "I don't want to stay within the Wizarding World - not when there's so much more out here." Merlin felt like pointing out that the Kingsman was hardly 'ordinary' - not that Harry would listen to him.

Of course Harry won their discussion, and Merlin was forced to bring it up in his next discussion with Arthur - virtual humiliation ensued when Harry aced the tests and named himself 'Nimue', making up his own position as 'Tech Advisor', despite knowing next to nothing about computers.

Galahad

"Nimue?" Harry - the other Harry in Merlin's life, that is - tilted his head as he took in the new recruit. Messy black hair, sharp green eyes, and a lazy smile.

"That's me."

Galahad turned to Merlin, confusion clear in his eyes; confusion that cleared up when he took in Merlin's flushed face.

"Merlin's lover? God help us all."

Just a little something to keep you all amused. Hope you enjoy this little set of shorts.

- L'Angleterre