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winterknightsTitle: Good Cheer
Author/Artist: ANON
Pairing(s): Merlin/Arthur
Prompt: Merlin works the bar at the pub where Arthur's employees have their office Christmas party. Arthur shows up, indignant that he wasn't invited. cue: Merlin makes everything better, in the process making Arthur a better man
Word Count/Art Medium: 2,300
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: Merlin characters are the property of Shine and BBC. No profit is being made, and no copyright infringement is intended.
Notes: Many thanks to S for the quick and thorough beta
Summary Arthur Pendragon learns there's always room for good cheer.
Read it on AO3
Arthur put the last signature on the last page. He was done for the night, which was just as well because the ink was running dry. Putting the pen down, he closed the folder – arm thick – and looked around. The office was deserted. Wreaths of holly stuck to the lintels, mistletoe hung about the door, and trees dotted the work surfaces. One lurked on top of the photocopier, wreathed in tinsel and fairy lights. But there was no human being in sight. The entire floor was probably void of people. It was the twenty-third after all, the last day before the holidays. It was natural that people should have vacated the premises a little earlier than usual.
Placing the folder in a desk and locking it, Arthur gathered his things. As he stepped out of his office, he noticed how preternaturally still the building was. The lights were still on – would be on till midnight – but there was no whir of machines, the air con was not working, and screens didn't light up, emitting their usual buzz.Only the lift pinged when Arthur summoned it, pressing the button for the ground floor.
When he saw him, the guard at the exit said, “Going to the Christmas party eh?”
Arthur cocked his head. “The Christmas Party? What Christmas party?”
“The one all the Camelot employees are going to.” He pointed a thumb at the revolving doors. “At the Duke of Monmouth's?”
This was thoroughly news to Arthur, who hadn't heard anything about a Christmas party. Further investigation seemed necessary. “The Duke of Monmouth's?”
“You didn't know?”
Arthur said, “I've forgotten.”
“Well, they're all down the road.” The guard pivoted so Arthur could look at the street. “I thought you were actually there.”
“No, I was up in the office.” Finishing the job he was meant to do.
“Oh, that's good, sir,” the guard said. “That's good.”
“Good night,” Arthur said, fiddling with the handle of his briefcase. “And happy holidays.”
****
The Duke of Monmouth wasn't Arthur's favourite pub by any means. The lighting was too dim, the pool table unserviceable, and the smoke too thick. With its wooden furniture and counter, stained glass, and fifties light fixtures, it was like taking a step into the past. Tonight, it was packed with workers from the nearby buildings, including his colleagues and subordinates.They gathered around five booths, numerous empty pint glasses on the tables in front of them . They were loudly singing some carol or other, taking selfies, and hugging each other.
Arthur came up to Valiant. “Nice to find you're all here.”
“Sir.” Valiant got out of the booth and stood up to Arthur. “You found us.”
Not because they'd told him. “I see you're having your Christmas party.”
“It's only an informal gathering, sir.” Valiant smiled. “Unwinding before the holidays.”
And of course Arthur wasn't informed. “I see.” He licked his lips. “You didn't think to let me know?”
Valiant's laugh sounded hollow. “We know how busy you are up in your grand office. We didn't want to disturb you.” When someone behind him cleared their throat, Valiant added, “Will you join us?”
“No.” Arthur could pretend he hadn't got the gist of this, but who would it serve to feign ignorance? Certainly not him, and it would further strain his relationship with his co-workers and dependants. “I was aiming for an early night.”
“Well, then.” Valiant is being pulled back into the fold by his companions. “Happy holidays, sir.”
A chorus of similar well wishes followed him all the way outside.
****
Arthur had said he wanted to get home early but truthfully he had no intention of doing so. It was only a little past eight, and though he was tired with the burdens of the day, he wasn't sleepy nor did he look forward to an evening of couch surfing. He hated watching telly and he wasn't one for laptop watching. He preferred company; he liked having people around. Securing his scarf around his neck, he turned tail and walked up the street.
He entered a second pub. This one was different from the establishment his colleagues had chosen for their Christmas party. It had flowers everywhere, hanging in pots outside and on top of surfaces inside. The decor was modern, airy, and the clientele made up mostly of tourists, intent on showing each other photos from their day's activities, or posing for new ones.
Arthur walked up to the bar and perched on a stool.The barman was a young man with dark hair that fell into his eyes, and a sharp face that, but for the softness of his mouth, was all angles. “Hey,” he said, when he saw Arthur, “what can I get you?”
“A pint of stout.” Arthur placed his palm flat on the counter.
The barman smiled. “We have a new micro brew we're trying.” He cleaned a glass. “It's called Dragon's Breath, pretty potent. It looks like you need it.”
“Does it?” Arthur'd always prided himself on not letting his feelings show. He supposed his mask had shattered and it was clear for all to see that he was down. “It'll pass.”
“I'm sure,” the barman said. “But sometimes a little alcoholic nudge goes a long way.” He made a face. “Unless, of course, you have a drinking problem. In which case I can serve you a soda. I have plenty of soda. It's good soda.”
“I'm not an alcoholic .” Arthur wanted that to be known. “I have zero problems with alcohol.”
“Phew,” the barman said, wiping at his brow with his forearm. “I'll get you some Dragon's Breath.”
“Thanks.”
“You can talk to me about your problems in the meantime.”
Arthur laughed. “You're not my psychiatrist.”
“No.” The barman took him up on the chuckle. “I'm your barman. I say tomato.”
Arthur had no intention of opening up. “I'm calling bullshit.”
“Merlin.” The barman passed him his glass and offered him his hand.
Arthur shook it. “Arthur.”
Arthur drank a pull, said, “How come you're so chatty?”
“How come you're so blue?”
Arthur hid his smile behind his raised thumb. “I'll answer if you answer.”
“That's easy.” Merlin slings the rag he was cleaning the counter with over his shoulder. “It's in my nature.” He raised an eyebrow.
Right, it was Arthur's turn. “I found out my colleagues and employees had a party behind my back.” He paused for effect, not that the punchline wasn't painful in and of itself. “They were so kind as to tell me post factum.”
“Ouch.” Merlin made a face. “Are you a terrible boss?”
“I'm an excellent boss.” And a conscientious one too, Arthur felt. “I just want the best from my people.”
“So you're a hard nut to crack.”
“I ask for nothing more than I'm willing to give.” Arthur had been in their shoes but a couple of years ago.
“You know what,” Merlin said, his lips quirking, “I believe you.”
Arthur couldn't quite believe he was having this conversation. “Thank you for your magnanimity.”
Merlin's eyes got small under the pressure of a grin. “I think they're not nice -- your co-workers, I mean. Unless you're Trump, you can't be that bad of a boss and they practically cold-shouldered you.”
“That's what I'm saying.” They could have told Arthur. They could have involved him. “A little good will would have gone a long way.”
Merlin nodded. “Uh huh. I'm with you on that. Fuck them.”
Arthur nearly spat out the beer he'd drunk. “Are you always this vehement?”
“Yeah.” Merlin served a pint then came back. “I know what it means to be cold shouldered like that.”
“You do?” To Arthur Merlin seemed totally at ease with himself, happy and well-adjusted. Just the type of guy everyone liked.
“Yeah.” Merlin paused to serve some customers. They looked like regulars because he joked with them and they reacted in kind. When he was done, he returned to Arthur. “Poor boy from a rural background. School meant being a social outcast.”
Arthur rumbled in his throat. “That's not the same. School's painful for everyone.”
“You don't look like someone who had trouble with school.”
“You're right.” Arthur was a good student. “Some things were easy back then. But I never open--”
“What?” Merlin tilted his head.
“I'm really pouring my heart out here,” Arthur said, drinking more of the Dragon's Breath he had in his glass. “I don't even know why.”
“I'm magic.” Merlin shrugged. “I invite confidences.”
“Do you offer any in return?” Merlin was quite something else, Arthur privately thought.
“Yeah.” Merlin stopped bustling about behind the counter and gave him a serious once over. “I quite like you.”
Arthur's blood pumped faster. “Do you?”
“Yeah.” Merlin's head moved to the side. “There's something honest about you.”
“I do believe I'm upright.” Arthur straightened himself out of his slouch. “That I have principles.”
Merlin bit his curving lip. “Yeah. As I said, I like that.”
Arthur ought to be subtle, or act as though he hadn't got it. After all, what sort of person flirted with a barman thinking it would go somewhere? Merlin probably chatted people up professionally. And being good looking, in his definitely quirky sort of way, he likely had a lot of that coming his way. Even so, Arthur said, “How much so?”
“Because of that question--” Merlin pointed at him. “A lot.”
Arthur coughed into his fist.
Merlin winked at him and moved over to serve a couple of girls. They'd just come in and brought with them a whiff of the outside, a taste of ice and snow. One wore red, the other black. They giggled with each other and at Merlin too. Studying the board, they waffled over their order, engaging Merlin in a conversation that veered from the best beer to the best breweries, to the best winery tours. In response, Merlin smiled at them and traded jokes with them, holding his belly when one made him really laugh.
Arthur was already having his suspicions confirmed, when Merlin got back to him. “Girls are sorted.”
“They were having a nice time talking to you.” Even a blind man would have noticed.
“They were. I was.” Merlin bobbed his head in an up and down swing. “Now I'm back.”
“Now you're back.” Arthur tilted his glass, and stared into it. “What for?”
“To talk.”
Arthur spread his hands out. “What about?”
“You,” Merlin said. “I thought I said I liked you.”
“You did.” Arthur inclined his head. It had surprised him, but he was now ready to run away with it. “Though I have no notion why.”
“Really?” Merlin shook his head. “So little self-confidence.”
Arthur's shoulders slumped. He knew that was a particularly unattractive trait. He had been told by his sister, and those friends he had who were really honest with him, who didn't let themselves be dazzled by Arthur's swift rise in his career or the buying power he had acquired thanks to it. “I thought boasting was a turn off.”
“There's a fine line,” Merlin said. “A subtle line.”
“True.” Merlin was making sense, Arthur thought. “So what else?”
“What else what?” Merlin's eyes narrowed.
Arthur didn't let himself get time to think. “Did you want to talk about?”
“Oh.” Merlin breathed a relieved breath. “You, me.” He pulled at his rag, grabbing it by one end as though he was about to swat some particularly obnoxious insect. “What you're doing after closing time.”
“Well, I'm not dependent on closing time.” Now Arthur smirked. He had this. Or at least he thought he did. Either way there was something about this moment, this exchange that gave Arthur a new energy.
“No, but I am.” Though he was the one who'd led the dance, Merlin went pink.
“Going home,” Arthur said, his plans for the evening seeming flimsy and insubstantial. “Maybe opening a bottle of wine.”
“Don't do that.” Merlin leant a hip against the counter.
“Are you going to say wine's bad for me?”
“No, I have a counter plan.” Merlin ducked his head, then lifted it. There was determination in his expression, a hint of conscious daring. “Wait for me to close up. It's only till midnight. We can ring in Christmas Eve together.”
“That's the New Year.” When Merlin's face fell, Arthur was quick to add, “But that's a good plan.”
****
The pavement was wet with melted sludge. The mistletoe hanging from the door to the pub shook in the breeze.
Merlin pocketed the keys to the pub and turned around. “I'm glad I forgot my gloves home,” he said.
“Why?” Arthur moved his head to the side. “It's freezing out here.”
“Because--” Merlin stepped closer to him. “This way I can do this.”
Cupping his face, Merlin leant close and, looking him in the eyes, touched his lips to his. Then again. With the tip of his tongue he licked Arthur's mouth, which parted, opening a notch. Fighting a shiver, Arthur shifted closer so he was standing hip to hip with Merlin. Deepening the kiss, he moved his tongue against Merlin's slowly, meshing them together till electricity worked at his skin.
Taking a breath, Merlin folded his lips around Arthur's and sucked them in one by one, letting the kiss get deep again when Arthur least expected it. Arthur trembled with how good it was, how right. It was a perfect match, a perfect union. It was funny how chance had thrown them together when they were such a good fit, when they were so good for each other. Something sizzled between them and took Arthur's breath with it, doing away with his thoughts and making his chest lighten with gladness.
Their mouths joined together and their tongues traded touches in a wet slide. Teeth nipped at lips, tongues soothed the nips, and tangled together when that was done.
Noses bumping, breath cooling between them, Merlin stepped back. “Would you like to come to mine?”
“Yes,” Arthur said, his voice stuttering after his heart. “Yes.”
Never had an evening's outcome flipped so quickly for Arthur. Never before had the turning tides served him so well. Perhaps the turnabout was due to the season. One was always prone to good cheer around Christmas time, always geared to hope. So in spite of his let down, he was already subconsciously ready to welcome happiness in his heart. However that was, Arthur wasn't about to second guess himself.
Hand in hand, they walked towards the tube.
Author/Artist: ANON
Pairing(s): Merlin/Arthur
Prompt: Merlin works the bar at the pub where Arthur's employees have their office Christmas party. Arthur shows up, indignant that he wasn't invited. cue: Merlin makes everything better, in the process making Arthur a better man
Word Count/Art Medium: 2,300
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: Merlin characters are the property of Shine and BBC. No profit is being made, and no copyright infringement is intended.
Notes: Many thanks to S for the quick and thorough beta
Summary Arthur Pendragon learns there's always room for good cheer.
Read it on AO3
Arthur put the last signature on the last page. He was done for the night, which was just as well because the ink was running dry. Putting the pen down, he closed the folder – arm thick – and looked around. The office was deserted. Wreaths of holly stuck to the lintels, mistletoe hung about the door, and trees dotted the work surfaces. One lurked on top of the photocopier, wreathed in tinsel and fairy lights. But there was no human being in sight. The entire floor was probably void of people. It was the twenty-third after all, the last day before the holidays. It was natural that people should have vacated the premises a little earlier than usual.
Placing the folder in a desk and locking it, Arthur gathered his things. As he stepped out of his office, he noticed how preternaturally still the building was. The lights were still on – would be on till midnight – but there was no whir of machines, the air con was not working, and screens didn't light up, emitting their usual buzz.Only the lift pinged when Arthur summoned it, pressing the button for the ground floor.
When he saw him, the guard at the exit said, “Going to the Christmas party eh?”
Arthur cocked his head. “The Christmas Party? What Christmas party?”
“The one all the Camelot employees are going to.” He pointed a thumb at the revolving doors. “At the Duke of Monmouth's?”
This was thoroughly news to Arthur, who hadn't heard anything about a Christmas party. Further investigation seemed necessary. “The Duke of Monmouth's?”
“You didn't know?”
Arthur said, “I've forgotten.”
“Well, they're all down the road.” The guard pivoted so Arthur could look at the street. “I thought you were actually there.”
“No, I was up in the office.” Finishing the job he was meant to do.
“Oh, that's good, sir,” the guard said. “That's good.”
“Good night,” Arthur said, fiddling with the handle of his briefcase. “And happy holidays.”
****
The Duke of Monmouth wasn't Arthur's favourite pub by any means. The lighting was too dim, the pool table unserviceable, and the smoke too thick. With its wooden furniture and counter, stained glass, and fifties light fixtures, it was like taking a step into the past. Tonight, it was packed with workers from the nearby buildings, including his colleagues and subordinates.They gathered around five booths, numerous empty pint glasses on the tables in front of them . They were loudly singing some carol or other, taking selfies, and hugging each other.
Arthur came up to Valiant. “Nice to find you're all here.”
“Sir.” Valiant got out of the booth and stood up to Arthur. “You found us.”
Not because they'd told him. “I see you're having your Christmas party.”
“It's only an informal gathering, sir.” Valiant smiled. “Unwinding before the holidays.”
And of course Arthur wasn't informed. “I see.” He licked his lips. “You didn't think to let me know?”
Valiant's laugh sounded hollow. “We know how busy you are up in your grand office. We didn't want to disturb you.” When someone behind him cleared their throat, Valiant added, “Will you join us?”
“No.” Arthur could pretend he hadn't got the gist of this, but who would it serve to feign ignorance? Certainly not him, and it would further strain his relationship with his co-workers and dependants. “I was aiming for an early night.”
“Well, then.” Valiant is being pulled back into the fold by his companions. “Happy holidays, sir.”
A chorus of similar well wishes followed him all the way outside.
****
Arthur had said he wanted to get home early but truthfully he had no intention of doing so. It was only a little past eight, and though he was tired with the burdens of the day, he wasn't sleepy nor did he look forward to an evening of couch surfing. He hated watching telly and he wasn't one for laptop watching. He preferred company; he liked having people around. Securing his scarf around his neck, he turned tail and walked up the street.
He entered a second pub. This one was different from the establishment his colleagues had chosen for their Christmas party. It had flowers everywhere, hanging in pots outside and on top of surfaces inside. The decor was modern, airy, and the clientele made up mostly of tourists, intent on showing each other photos from their day's activities, or posing for new ones.
Arthur walked up to the bar and perched on a stool.The barman was a young man with dark hair that fell into his eyes, and a sharp face that, but for the softness of his mouth, was all angles. “Hey,” he said, when he saw Arthur, “what can I get you?”
“A pint of stout.” Arthur placed his palm flat on the counter.
The barman smiled. “We have a new micro brew we're trying.” He cleaned a glass. “It's called Dragon's Breath, pretty potent. It looks like you need it.”
“Does it?” Arthur'd always prided himself on not letting his feelings show. He supposed his mask had shattered and it was clear for all to see that he was down. “It'll pass.”
“I'm sure,” the barman said. “But sometimes a little alcoholic nudge goes a long way.” He made a face. “Unless, of course, you have a drinking problem. In which case I can serve you a soda. I have plenty of soda. It's good soda.”
“I'm not an alcoholic .” Arthur wanted that to be known. “I have zero problems with alcohol.”
“Phew,” the barman said, wiping at his brow with his forearm. “I'll get you some Dragon's Breath.”
“Thanks.”
“You can talk to me about your problems in the meantime.”
Arthur laughed. “You're not my psychiatrist.”
“No.” The barman took him up on the chuckle. “I'm your barman. I say tomato.”
Arthur had no intention of opening up. “I'm calling bullshit.”
“Merlin.” The barman passed him his glass and offered him his hand.
Arthur shook it. “Arthur.”
Arthur drank a pull, said, “How come you're so chatty?”
“How come you're so blue?”
Arthur hid his smile behind his raised thumb. “I'll answer if you answer.”
“That's easy.” Merlin slings the rag he was cleaning the counter with over his shoulder. “It's in my nature.” He raised an eyebrow.
Right, it was Arthur's turn. “I found out my colleagues and employees had a party behind my back.” He paused for effect, not that the punchline wasn't painful in and of itself. “They were so kind as to tell me post factum.”
“Ouch.” Merlin made a face. “Are you a terrible boss?”
“I'm an excellent boss.” And a conscientious one too, Arthur felt. “I just want the best from my people.”
“So you're a hard nut to crack.”
“I ask for nothing more than I'm willing to give.” Arthur had been in their shoes but a couple of years ago.
“You know what,” Merlin said, his lips quirking, “I believe you.”
Arthur couldn't quite believe he was having this conversation. “Thank you for your magnanimity.”
Merlin's eyes got small under the pressure of a grin. “I think they're not nice -- your co-workers, I mean. Unless you're Trump, you can't be that bad of a boss and they practically cold-shouldered you.”
“That's what I'm saying.” They could have told Arthur. They could have involved him. “A little good will would have gone a long way.”
Merlin nodded. “Uh huh. I'm with you on that. Fuck them.”
Arthur nearly spat out the beer he'd drunk. “Are you always this vehement?”
“Yeah.” Merlin served a pint then came back. “I know what it means to be cold shouldered like that.”
“You do?” To Arthur Merlin seemed totally at ease with himself, happy and well-adjusted. Just the type of guy everyone liked.
“Yeah.” Merlin paused to serve some customers. They looked like regulars because he joked with them and they reacted in kind. When he was done, he returned to Arthur. “Poor boy from a rural background. School meant being a social outcast.”
Arthur rumbled in his throat. “That's not the same. School's painful for everyone.”
“You don't look like someone who had trouble with school.”
“You're right.” Arthur was a good student. “Some things were easy back then. But I never open--”
“What?” Merlin tilted his head.
“I'm really pouring my heart out here,” Arthur said, drinking more of the Dragon's Breath he had in his glass. “I don't even know why.”
“I'm magic.” Merlin shrugged. “I invite confidences.”
“Do you offer any in return?” Merlin was quite something else, Arthur privately thought.
“Yeah.” Merlin stopped bustling about behind the counter and gave him a serious once over. “I quite like you.”
Arthur's blood pumped faster. “Do you?”
“Yeah.” Merlin's head moved to the side. “There's something honest about you.”
“I do believe I'm upright.” Arthur straightened himself out of his slouch. “That I have principles.”
Merlin bit his curving lip. “Yeah. As I said, I like that.”
Arthur ought to be subtle, or act as though he hadn't got it. After all, what sort of person flirted with a barman thinking it would go somewhere? Merlin probably chatted people up professionally. And being good looking, in his definitely quirky sort of way, he likely had a lot of that coming his way. Even so, Arthur said, “How much so?”
“Because of that question--” Merlin pointed at him. “A lot.”
Arthur coughed into his fist.
Merlin winked at him and moved over to serve a couple of girls. They'd just come in and brought with them a whiff of the outside, a taste of ice and snow. One wore red, the other black. They giggled with each other and at Merlin too. Studying the board, they waffled over their order, engaging Merlin in a conversation that veered from the best beer to the best breweries, to the best winery tours. In response, Merlin smiled at them and traded jokes with them, holding his belly when one made him really laugh.
Arthur was already having his suspicions confirmed, when Merlin got back to him. “Girls are sorted.”
“They were having a nice time talking to you.” Even a blind man would have noticed.
“They were. I was.” Merlin bobbed his head in an up and down swing. “Now I'm back.”
“Now you're back.” Arthur tilted his glass, and stared into it. “What for?”
“To talk.”
Arthur spread his hands out. “What about?”
“You,” Merlin said. “I thought I said I liked you.”
“You did.” Arthur inclined his head. It had surprised him, but he was now ready to run away with it. “Though I have no notion why.”
“Really?” Merlin shook his head. “So little self-confidence.”
Arthur's shoulders slumped. He knew that was a particularly unattractive trait. He had been told by his sister, and those friends he had who were really honest with him, who didn't let themselves be dazzled by Arthur's swift rise in his career or the buying power he had acquired thanks to it. “I thought boasting was a turn off.”
“There's a fine line,” Merlin said. “A subtle line.”
“True.” Merlin was making sense, Arthur thought. “So what else?”
“What else what?” Merlin's eyes narrowed.
Arthur didn't let himself get time to think. “Did you want to talk about?”
“Oh.” Merlin breathed a relieved breath. “You, me.” He pulled at his rag, grabbing it by one end as though he was about to swat some particularly obnoxious insect. “What you're doing after closing time.”
“Well, I'm not dependent on closing time.” Now Arthur smirked. He had this. Or at least he thought he did. Either way there was something about this moment, this exchange that gave Arthur a new energy.
“No, but I am.” Though he was the one who'd led the dance, Merlin went pink.
“Going home,” Arthur said, his plans for the evening seeming flimsy and insubstantial. “Maybe opening a bottle of wine.”
“Don't do that.” Merlin leant a hip against the counter.
“Are you going to say wine's bad for me?”
“No, I have a counter plan.” Merlin ducked his head, then lifted it. There was determination in his expression, a hint of conscious daring. “Wait for me to close up. It's only till midnight. We can ring in Christmas Eve together.”
“That's the New Year.” When Merlin's face fell, Arthur was quick to add, “But that's a good plan.”
****
The pavement was wet with melted sludge. The mistletoe hanging from the door to the pub shook in the breeze.
Merlin pocketed the keys to the pub and turned around. “I'm glad I forgot my gloves home,” he said.
“Why?” Arthur moved his head to the side. “It's freezing out here.”
“Because--” Merlin stepped closer to him. “This way I can do this.”
Cupping his face, Merlin leant close and, looking him in the eyes, touched his lips to his. Then again. With the tip of his tongue he licked Arthur's mouth, which parted, opening a notch. Fighting a shiver, Arthur shifted closer so he was standing hip to hip with Merlin. Deepening the kiss, he moved his tongue against Merlin's slowly, meshing them together till electricity worked at his skin.
Taking a breath, Merlin folded his lips around Arthur's and sucked them in one by one, letting the kiss get deep again when Arthur least expected it. Arthur trembled with how good it was, how right. It was a perfect match, a perfect union. It was funny how chance had thrown them together when they were such a good fit, when they were so good for each other. Something sizzled between them and took Arthur's breath with it, doing away with his thoughts and making his chest lighten with gladness.
Their mouths joined together and their tongues traded touches in a wet slide. Teeth nipped at lips, tongues soothed the nips, and tangled together when that was done.
Noses bumping, breath cooling between them, Merlin stepped back. “Would you like to come to mine?”
“Yes,” Arthur said, his voice stuttering after his heart. “Yes.”
Never had an evening's outcome flipped so quickly for Arthur. Never before had the turning tides served him so well. Perhaps the turnabout was due to the season. One was always prone to good cheer around Christmas time, always geared to hope. So in spite of his let down, he was already subconsciously ready to welcome happiness in his heart. However that was, Arthur wasn't about to second guess himself.
Hand in hand, they walked towards the tube.
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