Epilogue – More Stuff Just Happens Sometimes

Morgana sipped her glass of champagne and looked around the room.

Business men talked and guffawed and preened and showed off and boasted and had pissing contests. (That last one was figurative. Probably.) It was one of those work dos she hated but had to attend.

"Hello Morgana," said a smooth voice from behind her. She elegantly turned around, polite smile in place.

She didn't recognise him.

"Helloooo..." she said. "How are you?"

He was a tall man with a trendy little beard. Quite handsome, she thought, her eyes trailing from head to toe. Well-dressed, confident.

Alex, one of the partners of her firm, came up and slung an arm around the man's shoulders. "Morgana," he boomed, "I see you have met out newest member of our great team." He leaned forward and gave her a conspiratorial leer. "Had to hire a new senior accountant after Steve resigned, didn't I."

"Yes, of course," said Morgana. That had been a good day.

"Tauren," Alex addressed the man, "Morgana is one of our finest. Be kind, won't you."

"Naturally," said the man – Tauren – giving Morgana another kind of leer.

Later in the evening, Tauren said, "Let's go back to your place."

Morgana fingered the glass she'd been nursing the whole night. "I'm... not sure that's wise."

His face fell. "Oh no, you're married, aren't you?"

"Pardon? No," she laughed, "no. Not unless you count me living with my brother and his boyfriend married."

Tauren too laughed; he had a nice smile. "Well?"

"I have a baby at home," she confessed.

"Oh I see," he said, nodding. Then a peculiar look came over his face. "It's not mine, is it?"

"No! How could it – it wouldn't be – "

She did a double-take, and looked closely at him. Mr Hairy Chest – was he, was he, was he Mr Hairy Chest?

"Um," she said, "probably not."

. . . .

Merlin awoke from his place on the couch, head pillowed on Arthur's thigh. He looked up with bleary eyes to see Morgana standing in the lamp light with another man. "Hey," he greeted, rubbing his eyes and sitting up.

He looked over his shoulder at Arthur, who was dozing with baby Mordred in his arms. Morgana made to pick Mordred up but Arthur made a noise in his half-sleep and cuddled him closer.

Merlin gave the stranger an embarrassed look. "He's very protective," he told him.

The stranger only nodded. Morgana eventually succeeded and took Mordred upstairs to his nursery, the man following.

Merlin cuddled back down with Arthur on the couch. Arthur made more noises in his sleep and slid his hand into Merlin's hair.

Silence, then: "We should probably go upstairs."

"I like the couch," answered Arthur from the darkness, sleepy and slow.

"You're just saying that so you don't have to move."

"It's a good reason."

"Get up."

"No. Alright. In a minute."

They didn't.