FIC: The Marvelous Magical Toy Shop (Merlin/Arthur - 5400 - PG)

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Title:The Marvelous Magical Toy Shop
Author/Artist: starkidpatronus
Pairing(s): Merlin/Arthur
Prompt: Merlin/Arthur Modern AU. Merlin owns a toyshop, and it's Arthur's first Christmas taking care of his young nephew, Mordred, after Morgana and Leon were killed in a car accident. The chemistry is immediate, but Merlin thinks Arthur is taken, and Arthur doesn't realise that when Merlin says the toys are magical, he's actually being literal–at least until the toys themselves get in on the act.
Word Count/Art Medium:5400
Rating: PG
Contains (Highlight to view): *Mentions of car accident and minor character deaths*
Disclaimer: Merlin characters are the property of Shine and BBC. No profit is being made, and no copyright infringement is intended.
Notes: Shout-out to cominguprosesx13 on a03 for being such a fast and helpful beta, as usual!
Summary: Arthur wants to make Mordred's first Christmas after the death of Morgana and Leon (Mordred's parents) great. He goes to the Marvelous Magical Toy Shop to make that happen. He doesn't expect to find something for his perfect Christmas while he's there.

Read it on AO3 here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17277041


Cinnamon, honey, and a touch of lemon hits Arthur’s nose as he escorts Mordred into the Marvelous Magical Toy Shop. A twinkling sound above the door barely registers as Arthur takes in the breathtaking store. For starters, it stretches for what looks like kilometers with no end in sight. Shelves of every imaginable toy line the walls. Music is playing softly, but Arthur doesn’t see any speakers anywhere. A train is making a journey around the shop, tooting its whistle every so often. Shelves alternate decorations between remarkably real-looking fake snow and garlands. A huge tree with flashing lights and toy ornaments sits beside a winding staircase that leads upstairs.

“Wow,” Mordred breathes, eyes wide.

Arthur’s sentiments are the same. He smiles down at Mordred. “You like it?”

Mordred nods eagerly, still staring at the shop. He’s apparently so enraptured, he temporarily forgets how much he hates Arthur. Arthur is genuinely touched by the wonder in Mordred’s eyes, and it’s a rare day he’s touched by something related to Mordred. “So, anything catching your eye?”

“I want all of it.”

Arthur laughs. “Well, let’s see if we can’t narrow it down a bit for Ole’ Saint Nick, huh? Come on, let’s look around.”

Mordred drifts to one shelf, crowded with toy tanks. Mordred studies them with interest before picking one up and inspecting it more closely. “You like it?” Arthur asks.

Mordred shrugs, as if to say he isn’t sure yet. He’s still peering at the tank; Arthur leaves him to it, looking at the shop some more.

There is a series of smaller Christmas trees scattered around, each with bulbs and lights of unique color schemes. There is a shelf dedicated to nutcrackers that are clacking away on their own. There even seems to be a section in which fake snow is falling; Arthur wonders vaguely how they keep the floor from getting too slippery there.

Snapping him out of his train of thought, Mordred cries, “Oh wow!” and bolts toward a shelf full of trains on the other side of the store.

“Mordred!” Arthur runs after him, but doesn’t catch up to him until he’s already bumped into a man’s legs. The man turns around, already smiling down at Mordred. Arthur thanks God; the man must work here and be required to indulge in a child’s whims and insults. He catches up to him and Mordred.

“Hi,” he greets the man, placing a hand on Mordred’s shoulder. “Sorry, he just—loves trains.”

“Not a problem at all,” the man replies, waving Arthur’s apology away. “I also love trains.” He winks at Mordred, who smiles. “What’s your name?” the man asks Mordred.

“Mordred,” the boy answers in a small voice.

“Nice to meet you, Mordred,” the man says. “I’m Merlin. What kind of train are you looking for?”

Mordred gives another one of his classic shrugs and Merlin throws his head back and laughs.

“Well, just go ahead and browse then,” Merlin says. “Let me know if you have any questions.”

Mordred nods and goes down the shelf a little ways to look at the trains. Arthur steps a bit closer to Merlin to say softly, “Hey, I’m Arthur Pendragon.”

“Merlin Emrys,” Merlin says with an easy smile.

“Listen, I—I really am sorry about—the way he—ran into you.”

“Oh really, no harm, no foul,” Merlin says. “I love seeing how excited the kids get, so if anything, he just made my day!”

Arthur chuckles. “Well, I guess that’s one of us. I love him, but he drives me nuts half the time.”

“Really?” Merlin’s eyebrows shoot up. “I can tell you, he’s a lot better behaved than most kids who come in here.”

“Well, I’m sure his mother would have been happy to hear that; she was always trying to wrangle him.”

“Was?”

“Er—yeah, she—passed on a couple months ago.”

“Oh my God, I am so sorry.”

“It’s all right, thank you,” Arthur assures him. “I’m just—trying to give him a good Christmas after that, you know?”

“Of course.” He pats Arthur on the shoulder, making Arthur breathe in sharply as sparks shoot down his arm from the touch. Merlin pulls his hand away as if he’s been shocked, looking at Arthur like he’s something to be feared. Arthur’s about to say something, but Merlin beats him to the punch, clearing his throat and saying with holiday cheer, “Well, let me know if you need help with anything!”

Arthur nods and says with equal false cheer, “Thanks, will do!”

Merlin nods back stiffly, then leaves to greet a family looking at trains further down the shelves.

***

“Hey!”

Arthur turns around at the shout just before he and Mordred leave the shop; Merlin is chasing after them. When he reaches them, he holds out Arthur’s wallet. “You dropped this.”

“Oh, Jesus, thank you.” Arthur takes the wallet from Merlin. “You’re a lifesaver.”

Merlin gives a crooked smile. “Just a conscientious store-owner.”

Arthur does a double-take. “Oh—you—this is your shop?”

“Sure is.”

“Wow, it’s amazing.”

“Thank you,” Merlin says, amusedly. “You sound surprised.”

“Well, it’s just—I figured you’d be older is all, with the shop being so impressive and everything. I mean, hasn’t this place been open for decades?”

“Yeah, but I recently took over; my mum passed this year.”

“Oh, I’m so sorry.”

“Thank you, but it’s fine; she fought the cancer ‘til the very end.”

“Well, I’m still sorry for your loss.”

“Thank you.” An awkward moment passes during which neither of them knows what to say, then Merlin says to Mordred, “I hope Santa brings you what you want this year.”

Arthur waits, then says, “Mordred, what do you say?”

“Me too,” Mordred replies. Merlin laughs.

“Sorry,” Arthur says. “We’re still—working on that one.”

“Oh, it’s fine,” Merlin says, still laughing. “I appreciate the honesty. Well, come back soon!”

Arthur nods, smiling, then takes Mordred’s hand and leaves through the store’s front doors.

***

Arthur is unsurprised when, the next day, Mordred hands him with a letter to Santa filled with items from the toy shop. Once he’s seen Mordred off to school, he takes the tube back to the shop.

For a moment, Arthur wonders if it really is as magical as he remembers. One step back inside confirms it is; the shop is just as warm and inviting as if was the day before, if a little less crowded now that it’s a weekday.

Arthur checks Mordred’s letter to Santa, then makes a beeline for the trains. He then looks more closely at the description Mordred’s written down; “train with red and black engine and bright green car” certainly narrows it down. Arthur scans the shelf, which is filled with every imaginable style of train. Blue engines, black engines, green engines, yellow engines, purple engines, white engines, zebra-patterned engines, shape-covered engines, sparkly engines. Arthur’s vision starts blurring as he takes in all the options; he looks away to take a moment to breathe.

Instead, he fixes his eyes on the fake snow on the above shelf. After staring at it for a moment, he notices just how real it looks. He reaches out a hand to touch it and finds that it’s cold to the touch. And it crunches under his hand. Spellbound, he continues to touch it, marveling at how real it feels—

“Back again, I see!”

Arthur jumps, knocking merchandise off the shelves in the process. “Shit,” he mutters bending down to pick up the toy trains. “Sorry.”

“Oh, it’s fine,” Merlin replies, squatting to gather up some of the trains. They both reach for the last one and after a moment of brief hand-touching and blushing, Arthur takes initiative and picks up the final trains. They both dump their armfuls of trains back onto the proper shelf.

“Sorry again,” Arthur says sheepishly.

“Seriously, you’re fine,” Merlin insists, already setting to work on reorganizing the trains. “What can I do you for?”

Arthur takes a second to regroup after hearing those words out of an attractive bloke’s mouth, then says, “I’m here to uh—help out Santa.”

Merlin nods knowingly. “Ah yes, of course. Where would Santa be without his helpers?” He gives Arthur a smile and requests, “May I see your list?”

“Certainly.” Arthur hands Merlin Mordred’s lovingly-scrawled letter to Santa.

Merlin looks it over diligently, nodding and humming at different points. After a few moments, he declares, “Right then. This is easy enough. Are you getting everything on here?”

“Yes.”

“All right, let’s get started.”

With that, they’re off.

***

Merlin is incredible.

He finds the train with the red and black engine in about five seconds. It takes him even less time to locate the correct tank. There are five shelves of trolleys, yet Merlin easily picks the one fitting Mordred’s description.

“You’re amazing,” Arthur praises. “It’s like—it’s like this place really is magical.”

Merlin looks sharply at Arthur. Wrong-footed by Merlin’s suddenly piercing gaze, Arthur asks, “Sorry, did I—say something wrong?”

“No!” Merlin answers quickly, losing his intensity. “No, not at all. Sorry, just—I’ve never taken compliments well, is all.”

“Well, that’s too bad,” Arthur remarks, “because I’m not going to stop giving you them. You are remarkable at what you do. And not just at finding the toys. This whole place—” Arthur throws out his arms to encompass all of the shop—“is a marvel.”

“Well, I’m not sure it’s all that,” Merlin hedges as he resumes walking towards the staircase.

“But it is!” Arthur insists, following after him. “I mean, that fake snow you have—it looks and feels so real. How do you do it?”

“Oh, it’s nothing special, just—”

“Nonsense,” Arthur says as he stands in front of the staircase, holding onto both railings behind him to effectively block Merlin’s path. Leaning in slightly, he inquires, “What is your secret?”

“I don’t have one.”

“Oh, come on,” Arthur says, flirting very intentionally now. “Everyone’s got a secret, Merlin.”

“Not me. I’m an open book.” A pause with a stare-off, and then, “Now, shall we get this last item?”

Arthur can see Merlin’s not going to play ball, so he yields and takes his hands off the railings. “’Course. Let’s.”

He turns around and climbs up the stairs—once they’ve both reached the top, he follows Merlin’s lead to the toy soldiers section.

“All right, he wants a set of the green,” Merlin says, plucking a set off the garland-decorated shelf. Arthur notices that Merlin has lovely hands. Hands that could do a great deal more than— “And a set of the red, blue, and white.”

Arthur snaps out of it as Merlin picks up a wooden box of the figurines.

“And—that’s it, right?”

“Yes, it is,” Arthur confirms, taking the sets of soldiers from Merlin and placing them in his basket. It occurs to him that the basket shouldn’t be able to hold all of these items, nor should it remain so light as it does; he has a momentary freakout thinking some of the stuff must have fallen out. But no, shifting the merchandise around proves it is all there.

He looks up to see Merlin looking at him with raised eyebrows.

“Come on,” Merlin says. “Let’s ring you up.”

Arthur nods. Merlin starts towards the stairs again, but something about the soldiers catches Arthur’s eye. He looks back at them to see that they are all holding their arms out towards Merlin. Arthur knows for a fact they were not doing that before. He looks after Merlin, then looks back at the soldiers, which have now returned to their previous disarray. Merlin stops at the top of the stairs and looks back at Arthur, waiting for him. Arthur shakes his head, then follows after Merlin.

***

For a couple days, everything is normal.

And then something weird starts happening.

Arthur has hidden all the presents in his dresser. But when he wakes up one morning, he finds the tank and train sitting on the coffee table in the living room. He puts the toys back where they belong, then calls Mordred into the living room.

“Do you want to tell me something?” Arthur asks evenly.

Mordred shakes his head.

“This will be a lot easier if you just tell me yourself.”

“Tell you what?”

Arthur sighs. “Mordred, did you go looking for your Christmas presents?”

“What?” Mordred scrunches his brow up. “Why would I do that?”

“I don’t know, why don’t you tell me?”

“I didn’t, though.”

“Mordred.”

“I’m not lying!” Mordred insists. “Honest! I know Santa has my presents in the North Pole. Why would I look for them here?”

For a moment, Arthur had forgotten about Santa and the fact that Mordred is five years old. He recovers, saying, “Right. That makes sense, actually. So, you really didn’t go looking for them?”

Mordred shakes his head adamantly.

“Hm.” Arthur shrugs his shoulders. “All right, then.”

“Why do you ask?”

“Um—it was a test!” he declares. “To make sure you weren’t doubting Santa or anything. You know he won’t bring you your presents if you doubt him, right?”

Mordred nods, rolling his eyes like Arthur’s an idiot. “Yeah, I know, Uncle Arthur.”

“Good.” Arthur looks around the room, unsure of what to do now. “Do you, um, want to watch some telly?”

“I’m going to go back to reading,” Mordred proclaims, turning on his heel, returning to his bedroom, and slamming the door behind him.

Arthur sighs to himself, feeling again that he is way out of his depth here.

***

He’s willing to chalk the whole incident up to his own late night antics he doesn’t remember. But then, more stuff keeps happening.

The blocks build themselves into fantastical formations at Arthur’s bedroom doorway. The yo-yo hangs itself from one of the hangers in Arthur’s closet. The chalkboard begins to write words itself that Arthur can barely read, let alone decipher a meaning for.

The breaking point is when the rattle drum wakes Arthur up in the middle of the night by making noise all on its own, twisting from side-to-side with no human intervention. Arthur is horrified; he sleeps on the sofa that night.

The very next day, he gathers all the toys together in various tote bags and takes them with him to the toy shop.

Once there, he taps his foot while waiting in line. Finally, after a woman went back-and-forth with a cashier over the price of one lollipop for ten minutes, it is Arthur’s turn. Firmly, he says, “I’d like to speak to the owner, please.”

“Oh, are you sure I can be of no assistance, sir?” the cashier asks with a friendly smile.

“Quite sure, yes,” Arthur replies. “I’m positive this is well above your pay-grade.”

“Very well,” the cashier says. “One moment, please.”

She disappears behind a curtain behind the counter, then returns with Merlin in tow. Upon seeing Arthur, Merlin’s eyes light up. “Arthur!” he exclaims. “Hey there! How are you?”

“Fine, thanks,” Arthur answers. “And you?”

“I’m good, yeah,” Merlin says, still smiling at Arthur. “What seems to be the problem?”

“Um—” Arthur looks down at the bags of toys at his feet. “Could we talk privately for a minute?”

“Certainly,” Merlin obliges. “Let’s go to my office upstairs.”

Arthur waits for Merlin to get out from behind the desk, then follows him up the stairs and to a corner of the floor that has a little red door. Merlin takes out a ring of keys, unlocks the door, and holds it open for Arthur before entering himself.

“Can I offer you anything?” Merlin asks, walking over to a small table with a kettle and coffee maker on it. “Tea, coffee, water?”

“Uh—I’ll take a coffee, if you’re offering,” Arthur answers, sitting down in the chair across from Merlin’s at the desk. “Thanks.”

“’Course. Do you have a preference on what kind?”

“I just take it black.”

“Yeah, that fits.”

“What does that mean?”

“Nothing bad, just—you seem like the type who’d drink black coffee. Just based on what I know about you.”

“You don’t know that much about me.”

“I’d like to.”

“Pardon?”

“Um—nothing, sorry,” Merlin says, shaking himself a little. “I don’t know why I said that.”

“No, I’m not—It’s fine, I just—”

“’Fraid I only keep instant here, will that be all right?”

Arthur wants to continue on this train of thought, but takes the cue that Merlin doesn’t. “Yeah, that’s fine.”

Merlin sets Arthur’s coffee to brew, then turns the kettle on. “More of a tea drinker myself,” he explains.

Arthur nods and says with a slight smile, “Yeah, that fits.”

Merlin smiles back. “How’s Mordred?”

“Good,” Arthur answers. “He’s doing well in school and reading a lot on his own. I don’t think he has a lot of friends, but I don’t think he’s bullied, either. He’s just a—private person, I suppose.”

“How old is he?”

“Five.”

“Huh.”

“What?”

“Nothing, just—five’s a bit young to be a private person.”

“Yeah, well. He’s certainly private when it comes to talking to me about anything.”

“I’m sorry.”

“No, I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said that, it was—unprofessional.”

“Relax, Arthur. You don’t have to be so professional here,” Merlin assures him. “We’re literally in a toy shop.”

Merlin hands Arthur his coffee.

“Thank you,” Arthur says as Merlin sits in his chair behind his desk with his cup of tea.

“No problem. So, what brings you here today, Arthur?”

“Um—I—This is going to sound crazy, but just—hear me out. These toys—they’re—they’re coming alive.”

Merlin stares at Arthur for a very long moment. Then, he bursts out laughing.

“You want to run that one by me again?”

“I’m serious!” Arthur insists, knowing he sounds bonkers. “They are showing up in random places all over my flat. And last night, the rattle drum started twisting and making noise all on its own! It was terrifying!”

“Uh-huh.” Merlin sets his cup of tea down on the table as he peers at Arthur. “So, you want me to believe that these toys are magically coming alive at night, then?”

“They are!”

“Don’t you think a much more likely explanation would be—”

“Mordred isn’t doing it,” Arthur declares. “I already confronted him about it and he truly had no idea what I was talking about.”

“Right, and a five-year-old has never lied about anything.”

“I can tell when this kid is lying. He isn’t,” Arthur proclaims. “He thinks all his presents are with Santa right now.”

Merlin chuckles. “Right, of course.” He leans back in his chair, considering Arthur.

He sighs. “Well, I can certainly take a look at them, see if I can fix any defects. Maybe they’re windups that have just gone bad.”

“They’re not windups, though!” Arthur exclaims. “I didn’t buy any windups!”

“Are you sure of that?” Merlin pushes. “Did you check?”

“Well, no, but—”

“Let me take a look.” He holds out a hand for one of the tote bags; Arthur obliges and hands it over. Merlin looks inside, shuffling around the toys. “Yup, defective windups. I can get these fixed for you by tomorrow.”

“Fixed?”

“Yeah.”

“Wait, you—you make all of these toys?”

“Well, me and all the workers here, yes.”

Arthur stares at Merlin in shock. “Wow.”

“You didn’t notice the lack of packaging?” Merlin quirks an eyebrow. “How the only branding is for this shop?”

“I—I did, I just—I don’t know, I didn’t really put it together ‘til now,” Arthur explains. “You’re like Santa’s Elves!”

Merlin laughs again, eyes twinkling. “Well then, let Santa’s Elves fix these for you, yeah?”

Arthur breathes a sigh of relief. “Sure thing.”

***

The next day, Arthur returns to the shop. When he reaches the front of this line, the cashier immediately asks him, “Oh, you’re Mister Pendragon, right?”

“Um—yes, how did you—”

“Mister Emrys said you’d be the fit blond guy.”

The tips of Arthur’s ears heat up and he looks down at his feet. “Um—I—Thank you, um. Yeah, I’m—I’m Mister Pendragon.”

The cashier smiles at him. “Do you know where his office is?”

“Yeah, I was there yesterday.”

“Great, you can just head right up then. He’s waiting for you.”

Arthur nods his thanks, then makes his way to the office. He hears giggles all around him as he walks, but every time he looks to see who is laughing, all he sees are shoppers who are entirely uninterested in him. Shaking it off, he knocks on the red door upstairs.

“Who is it?” comes Merlin’s voice from inside.

“Arthur Pendragon.”

“Come on in!”

Arthur opens the door and walks into the office, smiling at Merlin. “Hi.”

“Hello there,” Merlin greets. “How are you?”

“Good, you?”

He grins. “Grand.”

Arthur nods in response and sits across from Merlin at his desk. “So, um—how are the toys, then?”

“What, you’re not even going to buy me dinner first?”

Arthur finds himself tongue-tied again, especially by the look Merlin is giving him—promising and teasing at the same time. However, before Arthur can respond, Merlin suddenly snaps out of his flirtatious demeanor, looking a little embarrassed and saying, “Sorry, I—don’t know what came over me just then. Um. The toys are now in perfect working order!” Merlin picks the tote bags of the toys up and hands them across the table to Arthur.

“Great!” he replies, accepting the bag from Merlin. “Thank you so much, I really appreciate it.”

“And I’m sure Mordred will appreciate it even more.”

“Certainly,” Arthur says on a laugh. There’s a weird moment during which neither appears to know what to say, before Arthur finally states, “Well, uh—I’ll get out of your hair then, I guess.”

“Oh, it’s not—Arthur, you have not been an annoyance or anything,” Merlin assures him. “It’s honestly been a pleasure having you as a client.”

“Well, it’s been a pleasure being your client,” Arthur says, feeling silly as he stands up. That’s not what he wants to say, not at all, but he can’t say what he actually wants to say. “I, uh—look forward to doing business with you in the future.”

“Likewise,” Merlin says, rising from his chair and walking Arthur to the door. They both place their hands on the doorknob, Merlin’s on top of Arthur’s. Neither pulls away. They stare at each other for a moment; Arthur feels his breath quicken. Merlin’s eyes flick down to Arthur’s lips. Time stops.

Merlin clears his throat, takes his hand away, and plasters on a smile. “Well, uh—I’ll see ya’ next time!”

“Right, right,” Arthur says nodding. Normally, he’d let that be the end of it, but he can still feel the warmth of Merlin’s hand on top of his and that makes him willing to risk a bit more. “Hey, um—About dinner—You know, me taking you to dinner—I, um—I was wondering—”

“Yes?” Merlin prompts, looking intently at Arthur.

“Um, just—” Arthur swallows, looking anywhere but at Merlin. “I don’t know, maybe—Would you like to get a drink sometime?”

Merlin smiles for a moment, but the smile turns quickly into a look of disappointment. “I—I’m not sure that’d be a good idea, I—I’m sorry. I, uh—try not to get involved with clients.”

“Oh.” Arthur tries to mask the heartbreak in his voice, but he doesn’t succeed very well. “Right, um. Of course.”

“It’s not that I don’t—”

Arthur holds up a hand to get Merlin to stop. “Merlin, it’s fine. Really. I understand.”

Merlin nods. “Right, then. Um—Happy Christmas.”

“Happy Christmas.”

With that, Arthur leaves.

***

Arthur picks at his dinner and looks across the table to see Mordred doing the same. Arthur tries, “How was your day?”

“Fine,” Mordred replies.

“What did you do?”

“Stuff.”

Arthur sighs. Why does he bother trying?

We made you the godfather for a reason, Morgana’s voice says in his head.

Yeah, mate, we know you can do this, Leon’s voice adds.

You have to try, Morgana’s voice pushes.

Arthur thinks back to Christmas dinners with all four of them and Uther. Morgana was always so good at bringing out the best in Mordred. Leon was always so good at bringing out the best in Morgana. Mordred was always so good at bringing out the best in Leon. They were like a well-oiled machine.

Arthur and Mordred are not.

“Are you excited for Christmas?” Arthur tries again.

Mordred does light up a little at that. “Yeah.”

Arthur smiles. “Do you think Santa’s bringing you your presents?”

“He better!” Mordred responds. “I’ve been plenty nice this year!”

Arthur laughs. “Fair enough. I have a good feeling that he will.”

Mordred smiles. It feels enough like a starting point for Arthur to take a bite of his pasta.

***

It’s the night before Christmas when Arthur and Mordred are watching telly, only to be interrupted by a sudden shaking sound. They both look over at Arthur’s bedroom; Arthur goes over and investigates. The sound is coming from one of the boxes, the one containing the red and blue toy soldiers. He’s too afraid to even open the box.

“What is it, Uncle Arthur?” Mordred calls out.

“Um—nothing, Mordred!” Arthur calls out. “Just, um—nothing, don’t worry about it.”

Arthur has to get this fixed. But he can’t leave Mordred home alone. He whips out his mobile and dials Lance’s number.

After giving a brief explanation, Lance agrees to come over. Arthur watches cartoons with Mordred while waiting, biting his fingernails before catching himself and stopping. His father had trained him out of that habit long ago.

Lance finally arrives and Arthur jumps up to answer the door for him. He yanks on his coat, rushes into his bedroom, picks up the still-rattling box, thanks Lance, tells Mordred to be good, and dashes out of the flat.

***

Merlin is locking the front door of the shop when Arthur literally runs into him, knocking them both to the ground.

“Jesus, mate, calm down!” Merlin shouts, rising halfway to lean back on his elbows. “Whatever it is, I’m sure it can wait. What are you—” He gets a look at Arthur, who brings down the hood of his coat to reveal his face. Merlin squints. “Arthur? What—what are you doing here?”

Arthur holds up the box in his hands. “Why is this shaking? It’s not because any wind-ups are malfunctioning.”

Merlin looks from Arthur to the box and back again. He sighs, getting to his feet. He holds out a hand to Arthur to help him up; Arthur accepts. Merlin pulls him up so that they’re standing far too close for comfort. Arthur can feel Merlin’s breath on his lips when he suggests, “Why don’t you come inside?”

With that, Merlin is unlocking the door and holding it open for Arthur. Arthur cautiously enters the shop, which suddenly seems far more menacing to him. There’s no music playing and all the lights are off.

Merlin snaps his fingers and the lights turn on. Arthur looks back at Merlin with fear in his eyes. “How did you do that?”

“Arthur, relax,” Merlin attempts to calm him down, stretching out a hand.

Arthur keeps himself well out of Merlin’s grasp. “Explain. Now.”

Merlin sighs. “Can I have the box please?”

“Here.” Arthur thrusts the offending object out for Merlin to take. Merlin takes it gently from his hands, places it on the counter with all the cash registers, and takes the lid off.

All the red and blue soldiers tumble out and get in formation—a heart, specifically. One soldier, presumably the lead, marches over to Arthur and points to Merlin. Then, as loud as his little voice can muster, he declares, “He fancies you!”

“Shut up!” Merlin orders, scooping the soldiers up and tossing them back into the box. The soldiers all squeal their protest as Merlin quickly puts the lid back on top of them.

Arthur stares at Merlin, who looks steadily back at him. They spend a long time like that.

Arthur breaks the silence first. “So, it is magic.”

“Yes,” Merlin breathes back, “it is.”

“But when I came in here suggesting that it was magic the other day,” Arthur continues, “you laughed in my face.”

“Yes, I did.”

“May I ask why?”

“Arthur, I can’t very well have people knowing that the shop is literally magic,” Merlin explains. “Neither could my father when it was his magic running it. Can you even imagine what that would be like?”

“Well I don’t know how you get away with all this without people realizing all the time!” Arthur exclaims. “This place is insane and your merchandise comes to life.”

“You’d be surprised what people can explain away,” Merlin argues. “People come in here all the time, see all this, and just think, ‘oh, well that’s some cool new technology they’ve got.’ Adults are very good at refusing to see magic.”

“And the merchandise?”

“That—er—right, that,” Merlin says, the tips of his adorably large ears going red as he looks down at the box. “To be honest, that’s never happened before.”

“Then why is it happening now?” Arthur asks, no longer angry. “I just want to know, Merlin.”

“Well—my magic is an extension of me,” Merlin says, still not looking at Arthur. “So, I guess the magic in the toys saw how I felt about you and—followed that through to its logical conclusion. Tried to get you back here.”

“Because you wanted me to come back.”

“Yes.”

“Because you do fancy me.”

“Yes.”

“Then why didn’t you want to get a drink with me?” Arthur demands, utterly lost.

“Because I didn’t think it was a good idea to get involved with a man whose wife just recently died!” Merlin answers. “Can you really blame me for that?”

“Wife?” Arthur recoils. “What—what are you talking about?”

“Mordred’s mother,” Merlin replies as if it’s obvious.

“You—Wait, you—You think—Oh, Jesus.” Arthur sighs. “Merlin, Mordred’s mother was not my wife. She was my sister.”

Merlin’s eyes widen. “You—wait—You two—You weren’t—”

“No,” Arthur says emphatically. “Absolutely not. She was married to one of my best friends. They both died in a car crash. They made me Mordred’s godfather, so I’ve been taking care of him ever since.”

“Oh my God,” Merlin says, staring at Arthur. “I—I’m so sorry, I shouldn’t have assumed, I—”

“Is that seriously why you didn’t want to get involved with me?”

“Well it seemed perfectly reasonable from my perspective!” Merlin points out. “Why didn’t you tell me that earlier?”

“I didn’t think you’d assume—”

“It’s a perfectly natural assumption!”

“Well I’ve had enough of assumptions,” Arthur declares, stepping closer so that he’s in Merlin’s space. Merlin doesn’t pull away. “So let me be very clear. I don’t like women—that way. I do like you that way. And I think you like me too.” Merlin just smiles and blushes. “So, I’ll ask again: do you want to get a drink with me sometime?”

“Yes,” Merlin breathes, grabbing the front of Arthur’s coat and pulling him in for a searing kiss.

All at once, the shop comes alive. The music starts playing again, the train starts its journey around the story again, and the box of soldiers starts shaking again. Lost in the kiss, Arthur doesn’t even notice at first that light snow has started to fall above him and Merlin. He breaks away from the kiss to look up at it, then looks questioningly back at Merlin. “The snow…?”

“Magic,” Merlin says with a nod. “It’s real, but then it disappears before it hits the ground. Never have to mop it up that way.”

Arthur looks up at the snow again, grinning. “Brilliant.”

The soldiers burst out of the box, cheering and marching exuberantly. Admittedly, Arthur’s still adjusting to the idea of all this. He’s almost not sure it’s even worth it to try. But then he looks at Merlin, who is looking back at him hesitantly with those gorgeous blue eyes, and promptly pulls him back in for another kiss.

He has a feeling it will be a very happy Christmas indeed.