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Arthur doesn't notice it for a long while. Not until he sees a wrinkle, albeit small and barely noticeable, but a wrinkle all the same. One that appears only as it crinkles when he squints his left eye the slightest bit. It's the sort of thing that goes unnoticed, unless you check every day like Arthur does. Counting down the days until it happens. He begins ageing at 32 years old.
The strange thing, Arthur thinks, is that he isn't dating anyone - he hasn't been for a pathetic amount of time. The last woman he'd dated found a grey hair the day after he'd introduced her to his friend Lance. No love was lost between them but definitely between he and Love itself.
Arthur is in a predicament, however. Because in his line of work, it's impossible to find the one person he can call his. As a doctor, Arthur meets dozens of 18 year old looking men and women everyday. So in the last month? It could be hundreds.
"Why don't you ask around?" Gwaine suggests one day, whilst Arthur whines about his romantic woes over beer and whiskey in a dingy pub in London, "See who's been ageing?"
"Yeah great idea Gwaine!" Arthur replies sarcastically, taking a swig of whiskey before continuing, "Let me just find the hundred patients I've had and ask them all personally if they're my soulmate."
"Alright, alright! It was just a suggestion, Mate."
"Actually," Leon interjects, his eyes narrowing in the way that they always do when his brain works double time, "That's not a bad idea."
"Which one?" Percival grunts, simply bored of Arthur's constant whining.
"Both," Leon tells him, "You're a doctor, Arthur! You can just get the records of every patient you've seen in the past month, filter out the ageing ones, and inquire about whether they've noticed anything different."
"I don't see how that's any improvement." Arthur says flatly, downing the rest of his drink.
"Well, do you want to find your soulmate or not?" Gwaine asks him impatiently. He let's Arthur ponder the question as he gets up to order another round from the lanky, gangly(read: adorable, gorgeous) new barman Merlin.
~~~~
Turns out the answer was yes, Arthur does want to find his soulmate, and he'll do anything to find them (him really, because Arthur's been denying that he prefers the strong lines of a man rather than the supple curves of a women for too long for it to be believable).
So here he is, two days after the conversation in the pub, standing over his computer feeling like a middle aged pervert. Arthur concludes that the description is almost half right, because though 32 isn't that old, he might as well be 60 in this world of 18 year olds. And as for the pervert part - well that'll be decided by the appearance of his soulmate.
He's found him. Well them. Three of them to be exact. Alex Hargrove, Jason Kinsman, Ryan Low. Their looks varied greatly, from sporty and fit to chubby and cute, but Arthur couldn't rule out anyone of them. It's a real predicament, and Arthur admits that he'll need outside help... From the constantly drunk friend who gave him the god awful advice.
"Date them all." Is all Gwaine says. His face so deadpan that you might actually be able to take his advice seriously. They're sat in the back of the dark pub, which is almost deserted; it's too early for the usual punters to be about. It's just them, the old man that never leaves his seat and Merlin.
"What?" Arthur scoffs a laugh. His hand is firmly wrapped around his glass, and he's only half listening, because he's too busy staring at the barstaff rather than his friend, so he's not sure that he heard right.
"See if you have a connection." Gwaine shrugs, oblivious to Arthur's lack of respect, "Aren't you supposed to feel something special with your soulmate?"
"Like what? Fireworks?" The blond mocks, his signature grimace on his face.
"Hey, never underestimate fireworks," Merlin interjects as he collects the friends' empty glasses, "They might be more effective than you think."
"Who asked you anyway?" Arthur snaps, his patience had already worn thin before he'd even caught sight of the dark haired man
Merlin glares, hard and piercing and snatches the last glass and stalks off, "Alright. I was just making conversation."
The pair watch the barman walk away, Gwaine with sympathy and Arthur, frankly, enjoying the view.
"That was a little harsh." Gwaine scolds, seeming much more mature now than he ever has in his 30 years alive.
"Well perhaps I'm just tired of being surrounded by idiots."
"And maybe I don't want to serve a clotpole!" They hear Merlin call from the bar, his back turned to emphasise his distaste.
"What do you think Merlin?" Gwaine asks the tall man, "Do you think Arthur should date all of his potential soulmates?"
"I think," Merlin starts, turning around, resting a cloth on his shoulder and leaning on a hand that he places on the counter. The line of his body stretches attractively as he does so, revealing a supple peek of his porcelain skin, "that if anyone can stand to spend a prolonged period with an arse like Arthur, then they must be meant for him."
Arthur narrows his eyes at him, "Well who asked you anyway?"
"Gwaine did."
"Shut up."
~~~
"So is Alex - the one?" Percival teases when Arthur walks into the pub two weeks later. The others are sat at their usual table; Gwaine, Percy, Leon, Elyan and Lance. They sit there, watching him with intent and interest.
"Not at all." Arthur grumbles at the memory of him, slumping down in his chair and motioning to Merlin for a beer.
"Bit final, isn't it? He can't be that bad." Lancelot replies, ever the optimist.
"The man's an avid racist! He thinks that black people are planning to start the 'reverse slave trade'! And that Muslim women carry weapons in their hijabs!" Arthur complains, outraged, "He's not only a blatant and proud racist, but he's a buffoon! A complete and utter imbecile."
"Right. Well that's a definite no." Leon says, taken aback.
"Absolutely."
"Well even if that's a bust, you've still got that other one, Jason?"
"Saw him two days ago." Arthur says monotonously, taking a sip of his drink and saying no more.
"Well it sounds riveting!" Elyan exclaims with mock enthusiasm, "I bet he swept you off your feet then?"
"Hardly," Arthur replies with obvious boredom and lack of interest, "Not even worth talking about if you ask me. I'd rather watch paint dry."
"Well don't you sound like a barrel of laughs?" Merlin quips as he passes the group, stopping as he collects glasses from the table beside them and sauntering off again.
"Again, no one asked you, Merlin." Arthur says with extra distaste on his lips.
"I don't care, Arthur." Merlin calls back from the bar.
"Oh my god, just get married already!" Percy cries, throwing his hands up in frustration. The other men cheer in agreement, but Arthur just scowls at them and chugs his beer.
"So, one to go now then." Lance sighs when they all quieten down. He looks at Arthur with his intense yet kind brown eyes. Yes, one to go. And hopefully he's the one.
~~~
Arthur grimaces at his whiskey from the stool he's sat at by the bar. His fingers are wrapped in a death grip around the cool surface, catching the droplets of condensed water vapour that fall onto them. His eyes are cold and staring hard at the still brown liquid.
"By the way you're glaring at it, I'd think you have something against our whiskey." Arthur hears Merlin's voice before he sees his face; loud and jolly, yet soft and sympathetic, "Date didn't go well then."
Arthur just grunts and pulls his glass into himself, only sparing Merlin a glance before returning to his previous position.
"Well I think there's someone out there for you." Merlin says, now slouching directly in front of Arthur on the other side of the bar.
"Yeah. Well-"
"No one asked me, I know." Merlin says, sounding bored. He stands up straight, leaning forward and resting his chin in his hand. "If it makes you feel any better, I started ageing 6 months ago and I haven't found my soulmate... Or rather, he hasn't found me."
Arthur perks up, at both the 'he' and what Merlin's telling him, "Really? But you don't look any different."
Merlin chuckles lightly, his eyes sparkling a little, "You don't have to show signs to actually be ageing, Arthur."
"What? That's absurd! How did you know then?" Arthur question, intrigued and confused at the same time.
"I don't know. I just did, I guess. It's like - before it started, I was just empty. Going through the motions. And then after I met yo- him... Life was better. I had something to look forward to."
"So he doesn't know about you?" Arthur presses, he was getting borderline intrusive now, but he just had to know who stole Merlin's heart (from him)
"No." Merlin looks him in the eyes then. His gaze finds its way past Arthur's own eyes, deep through his soul and into his heart. Arthur's breath catches in his throat, "I'm waiting for him to figure it out himself."
The intensity of Merlin's stare makes Arthur look away, until a thought flashes through his mind.
"Wait... If you can start ageing without the signs... That means that I've been wrong." Arthur talks more to himself rather than to Merlin, but the other man just nods encouragingly, a knowing smirk on his features.
Arthur continues, "You said that you felt different. Complete?" Merlin nods, "Do you think... Could that be the same for me?"
"Definitely." It's only then that Arthur realises how close Merlin is. He can feel Merlin's breath on his face, see Merlin's eyes on his own and hears Merlin's voice in his ears.
Then it clicks. Like the answer to one of life's great questions, or the completion of groundbreaking invention, it clicks. Call it intuition, or fate, or the heated look that floods into Merlin's eyes as he realises that finally, oh god finally, it clicks.
"6 months ago." Arthur begins.
"Yes." Merlin urges him, begs him to continue.
"I woke up... And I felt lighter. Like... Like-"
"Like suddenly everything was good? Like all your problems had been halved?" Merlin supplies, closer now - so much closer.
"That was the day.. The day after I met you."
Silence. One beat passes. Two. Three. And then...
Arthur's lips are on Merlin's. Fast and hard, as if he's making up for the months he'd lost, apologising for being so damn stupid.
"You idiot." Arthur hisses against his soulmate's lips, "You idiot! Why didn't you tell me?"
Merlin chuckles low, soft and breathy, as if he's letting out months of pent up energy. And really, that's exactly what he's doing, "It's not my fault that my soulmate is a clotpole who can't take a bloody hint."
Arthur grunts and bites at Merlin's lips, "I hate you."
Merlin smiles and kisses him, once, twice, three times, and oh god Arthur is never going to get used to that, get used to feeling like this. "I don't think you do."
Arthur huffs, and surges in to kiss his true love once again, "No one asked you if you did."