[He arrives at 7:59PM, loiters around for two minutes exactly, and then at 8:01 he rings the bell. He's in a dark jumper in his usual shirt and necktie. It's as close as Merlin usually gets to t-shirts and jeans.
The significance of being invited to Harry's on the first night is far from lost on him. Merlin feels a bit naked without his clipboard but feels otherwise secure--indeed, his decision to bring a bottle of aged wine seems more wise every time he silently admires it.
One thing about being mostly bald and with the rest shaved is that he doesn't have to worry if his hair looks good or not.]
Merlin admires Harry and he tilts his head up ever so slightly when he picks up the aroma of food from within the house.] Good evening, Harry. Wouldn't be a proper guest if I didn't. A well-cooked dinner ought to be paired with good wine.
You're a knight in finely tailored armour. [There's that small little smile of his and it's growing. Harry's smiling is infectious. And now that they're finally on a date? Merlin's feeling a little giddy.]
So we shall. [He enters and notes that Harry isn't wearing the apron. Maybe if he'd rung the bell at 7:59? Shame.] No apron? Even gentlemen can be a little domestic now and then.
I'm not prone to being late. [Merlin raises his glass, and then his eyes to Harry's. His expression is fond and openly so.] What are we toasting to? Got to be something good.
Any time. [He's just flirting. Though maybe if he was 20 years younger, he'd be making a move or expecting more or both. At least they agree, if silently, they want a comfortable evening in together.
Merlin follows him. He's been to Harry's quite often, but never like this. On a date.]
Thank you. [He sits and notes the table placements and, if possible, quietly admires Harry when his back is turned.
It's hard for Merlin not to appreciate perfection.]
[ A pleasant soup for a starter. Nothing too filling. Cooked to absolute perfection. Every part of the meal would fit seamlessly together without getting dull. Harry had gone out of his way to learn fine dining and how to prepare it. ]
[Of course he notices the little details, every tiny nuance that went into making not just a good dinner but a very gracious one. And of course Merlin knows Harry wouldn't do this for just anyone.
They have a seat and start in, with Merlin neatly tucking a napkin into his collar. His precision is matched and complimented by Harry's perfectionism.
The soup is lovely and indeed not too heavy, but not watery or too thin either; it's just right. Merlin wonders what efforts Harry took to cook this entire dinner just for him, a man who has a far more simple menu at home.]
I believe my last night off was twenty years ago, give or take a few months. [Merlin is kidding of course, but it's believable enough.] And you? All this preparation, Harry--I'd think the Queen was stopping by for a visit.
[He'd been so wrapped up in the occasion that even that had slipped his mind. Well, at least Harry could know that he was making quite the impression on Merlin. That look earns Harry a pair of raised eyebrows.]
Oh, am I? Don't think Philip and Her Majesty are into that sort of thing.
He missed this. He missed being able to relax, chat with Merlin about anything. They never had much time together to do that. Always dancing around the line of professional relationship and casual one. ]
That's asking for a gay joke. [The quip comes with a short look over the rims of his specs just as he has another spoonful of soup. He fully intends to answer Harry's question anyway.]
You ask that as though I don't know how to commit to work and my own health. Shall I give you a detailed report of my breakfast, lunch, and teatimes? [He could. That might actually be the sad part, if Merlin wasn't such a genius and natural at filing, reporting, and cataloguing information.
He's missed this too, and he's inclined to reach for more--even if 'more' is evenings spent on a sofa discussing nothing and everything over a bottle of vintage wine, perhaps sharing kisses if Harry was inclined to allow it. In fact, Merlin can't think of anything he'd rather do at the moment.]
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The significance of being invited to Harry's on the first night is far from lost on him. Merlin feels a bit naked without his clipboard but feels otherwise secure--indeed, his decision to bring a bottle of aged wine seems more wise every time he silently admires it.
One thing about being mostly bald and with the rest shaved is that he doesn't have to worry if his hair looks good or not.]
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Harry is at least out of his apron and back into his jacket to greet him at the door. ]
Merlin. [ He notes the bottle of wine. ] You didn't have to.
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Merlin admires Harry and he tilts his head up ever so slightly when he picks up the aroma of food from within the house.] Good evening, Harry. Wouldn't be a proper guest if I didn't. A well-cooked dinner ought to be paired with good wine.
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But not really. No, Harry is all smiles as he takes the bottle from his guest and lets him in. ]
It'll do wonderfully. Shall we give it a test before dinner?
[ This felt so formal. How else was he supposed to go about thi ]s?
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So we shall. [He enters and notes that Harry isn't wearing the apron. Maybe if he'd rung the bell at 7:59? Shame.] No apron? Even gentlemen can be a little domestic now and then.
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I simply didn't need it.
[ Two glasses already ready but now they were going to have a different wine. ]
I'm not prone to dropping mugs.
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To finally having you for dinner.
[ Is that good enough? He asks with a proper raise of his glass. ]
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Oh, that vintage is very good.]
Thanks, Harry. Maybe you'll wear the apron for me later.
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[ He clarifies and promises. He's not sure if it's age or Merlin and his friendship but... He doesn't want anything to happen tonight.
Harry leads Merlin into the dining room. ]
If you'd like to have a seat, I'll serve the appetizer.
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Merlin follows him. He's been to Harry's quite often, but never like this. On a date.]
Thank you. [He sits and notes the table placements and, if possible, quietly admires Harry when his back is turned.
It's hard for Merlin not to appreciate perfection.]
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When was the last time you had a night off?
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They have a seat and start in, with Merlin neatly tucking a napkin into his collar. His precision is matched and complimented by Harry's perfectionism.
The soup is lovely and indeed not too heavy, but not watery or too thin either; it's just right. Merlin wonders what efforts Harry took to cook this entire dinner just for him, a man who has a far more simple menu at home.]
I believe my last night off was twenty years ago, give or take a few months. [Merlin is kidding of course, but it's believable enough.] And you? All this preparation, Harry--I'd think the Queen was stopping by for a visit.
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You are asking for a gay joke there, Merlin.
[ And now he will take his bite to hide the fact that he is grinning. ]
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Oh, am I? Don't think Philip and Her Majesty are into that sort of thing.
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[ He says with a shrug.
He missed this. He missed being able to relax, chat with Merlin about anything. They never had much time together to do that. Always dancing around the line of professional relationship and casual one. ]
Have you eaten much today?
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You ask that as though I don't know how to commit to work and my own health. Shall I give you a detailed report of my breakfast, lunch, and teatimes? [He could. That might actually be the sad part, if Merlin wasn't such a genius and natural at filing, reporting, and cataloguing information.
He's missed this too, and he's inclined to reach for more--even if 'more' is evenings spent on a sofa discussing nothing and everything over a bottle of vintage wine, perhaps sharing kisses if Harry was inclined to allow it. In fact, Merlin can't think of anything he'd rather do at the moment.]