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"Lancelot, wait!"
Merlin hadn't expected him to be in and out so quickly, and consequently hadn't been paying very close attention when Lancelot ducked out and then hurried off down the hall. Now it was starting to feel just like every jaunt across the castle he had with Arthur. He wasn't built to keep up with trained knights, didn't they realize that?
"Will you please slow down," he wheezed, "and talk to me!"
Lancelot stopped suddenly and spun on his heel. "Please don't make this any harder for me than it has to be," he cried.
Merlin was so startled by the sudden change of pace that he promptly tripped over his own feet and fell straight into Lancelot, who staggered from the surprise but thankfully didn't drop him.
"You can't really be leaving," Merlin said between gasps of air.
"I am, Merlin. I cannot stay."
"But what you said wasn't true, you wouldn't be taking the credit for something I did. I mean, have you seen me with a weapon? I couldn't have slain the Griffin on my own!"
"But neither could I," Lancelot sighed and shook his head. "You believed in me, Merlin, when I'd already given up hope. I cannot claim responsibility for the good you have done."
"Well maybe you should believe in me this time. I mean, it's not like I can claim any part in the defeat-"
"- and I swear I will not tell a soul-"
"- without getting myself executed, so there's no reason why you can't claim your part alone!"
"Ah, but I think that is you believing in me again, pushing me to succeed. I have taken too much from you already."
Merlin scoffed.
"No, I cannot take more. I do not wish to come between you and your future. It is already too much to have come between King Uther and Prince Arthur. I cannot stay."
"I don't see how you've come between me and anything," Merlin huffed back with a deep frown.
"The fake seal of nobility. Speaking to Prince Arthur on my behalf. Procuring Guinevere's services for clothes, armour, and weapons, and then cheering me on in my quest for knighthood. Enchanting my lance? No, you have most certainly done too much for me already, and risked too much."
Merlin opened his mouth to protest again, but Lancelot stepped closer and grasped him by the shoulder, holding his other hand up in a request for silence.
"I will not let you risk more for me Merlin, which I fear you may do if I stay."
"But Lancelot-"
"No, Merlin." His hand clenched and unclenched compulsively against Merlin's shoulder, and he brought his other to rest gently against Merlin's lips. "Please, stay your words."
Lancelot's fingers tasted of salt and leather, to Merlin's dismay. He stilled under Lancelot's touch and resisted the urge to let his mouth slip open, just a little, to taste them better.
"You are... quite amazing, Merlin. I don't think you know how much," he smiled warily, but did not shift his hands and kept his eyes locked on Merlin's. "I will always be glad I came to Camelot, even though I couldn't stay. I will always be glad I met you, Merlin."
Lancelot's stare was making Merlin want to fidget. He could see each smudge of dirt on Lancelot's face, and feel the heat of his body from his fast ride back to Camelot, hurrying to bring the good news to the King along with Arthur.
"I'd rather be glad you stayed," he said softly but defiantly, tasting salt again when the fingers did not move as he spoke.
"No more depressing words," was Lancelot's gruff answer, and then he slipped his hand from Merlin's mouth to the back of his neck and drew him close. Surprised, Merlin's fingers scrabbled for purchase against Lancelot's chain mail as the world outside of Lancelot's mouth on his - the hard line of his chin and nose, his teeth nipping lightly at the corners of Merlin's mouth - all faded away.
He lost all track of time until Lancelot groaned and dropped his head to mouth his way along Merlin's jaw and bite at his throat. They'd somehow wrapped themselves around each other. Merlin had a hand tangled in Lancelot's hair and the other tight around his back, pulling them flush against each other.
"Wait, wait," Merlin started, but was distracted by Lancelot licking his earlobe. "No, really, wait."
"What?" Lancelot grumbled into his neck, but drew back with a sigh when Merlin tugged at the hand tangled in his hair.
"Anyone could come along... someone might...."
"See. Right." Lancelot disentangled their arms and pulled back properly, running a hand roughly through his hair.
"We might be able to...," Merlin tried to say with a cocky grin, but he had a feeling it had come out more pathetically hopeful. "I mean, we could-"
"We could...?"
"We're close to some of the castle guest quarters," he finished in a rush. "Most of them are empty at the moment. No one who resides outside of Camelot and is wealthy enough to travel away from the Griffin has been hanging around lately, funnily enough."
"Empty guest quarters," Lancelot grinned. "Sounds ideal, lead the way."
Merlin felt his grin shift from hopeful to outright beaming, and reached for Lancelot's hand without thinking. But Lancelot didn't pull away, or look around them to check for watchers, so he just started tugging Lancelot down the corridor - stopping occasionally to kiss his breath away as they went.
Arthur had been slowly walking the halls of Camelot while pondering what he could possibly do about Lancelot to make him change his mind, when he saw them. Granted, they were in a deserted and little used corner of the castle, and it was the middle of the night with very few torches lit in the halls, but they were right there. Brazenly standing in the middle of the walkway where anyone could see.
More importantly, where Arthur could see.
They were kissing. Devouring each other, more like, Arthur thought sourly. They were all moving hands and locked lips, and they were so tightly pressed together Arthur didn't think you could fit a blade of grass between them.
Just right there, like nobody would be surprised or shocked if they were happened upon. Arthur could feel his gut begin to burn with some unnameable emotion. They looked so close and somehow careful of each other, standing there like that, even as they tugged at roughly at skin and hair to reduce what little distance there was left between them. Arthur could even half hear them from his position down the corridor. Lancelot groaned deeply every time Merlin tugged or ran his fingers through his hair, and Merlin was making wordless, indescribable noises of want as Lancelot began to work his lips and tongue across his jaw and throat.
Then they stopped. Arthur thought Merlin was speaking, but his voice was low and husky, and Arthur couldn't make out the words from a distance. Lancelot made a few last, abortive attempts to reattach himself to Merlin, and Arthur couldn't help but grimace and clench his fists, before they parted properly.
They were still talking too quietly, but Arthur didn't dare move closer for fear of drawing Lancelot's gaze. Instead he glared at the hair at the nape of Merlin's neck, sticking up in all directions, his necktie askew from Lancelot's fingers, and watched him fidget as Lancelot gazed intently into his face.
Then Merlin grabbed Lancelot's hand, and Lancelot laced their fingers together and drew him close for another kiss, and they began to make their way down a number of corridors in that fashion. Darting from shadow to shadow, always in contact; hands and fingers touching, an arm around shoulders, fingertips trailing on the back of a neck or tangled in clothes. They stopped repeatedly, every time they found a quiet corner, and kissed until one of them pulled away laughing and started the procession all over again.
Arthur burned with indescribable anger but he couldn't turn away. The knight who couldn't be a knight yet fought well and spoke well and sprouted speeches about not wanting to come between people, and Merlin.
Merlin, smiling and laughing and shushing himself.
They continued like this until Arthur realised they were in one of the many guest wings of the castle. Merlin unerringly led them to a corridor of unoccupied rooms, and the two of them stopped outside a door. His hand was on Lancelot's chest, fingering the links of the chain mail again, and Lancelot had one hand on the door handle and an intent stare and smile on his face.
Arthur thought they were drunk on contact by now, to be choosing a room so close to a bend in the corridor. He could creep close enough to hear without fear of discovery.
"- and this whole section is empty, so there's no need to worry about maids or any of that," Merlin was saying, and watching his own hand against Lancelot's armour.
"Merlin," Lancelot said so quietly Arthur almost missed it. He moved one hand to cover Merlin's, holding it against his chest.
"And we're fairly close to the stables for in the morning, and... I- I just,-" Merlin stammered a little, and then took a deep breath. "I haven't ever-"
"It's okay." Lancelot pushed the door open and pulled him close, leaning forward to press a chaste kiss against his lips.
It was probably the least lewd kiss he'd seen all night, Arthur saw with some relief, but then Lancelot deepened the kiss gently but urgently and Merlin moaned, and then they were stumbling through the doorway and it was shutting behind them -
Arthur gritted his teeth and drew back from the corner, throwing himself back against the wall and breathing deep. He shouldn't have watched. He knew that from the start, but now he could feel the knowledge burning in his gut alongside his jealousy.
It was time to leave. He strode off down the corridor, and slammed the door to his own quarters, trying desperately to put it out of his mind.
Merlin was relieved to see Arthur was still dressed in his usual loose, casual clothing for first thing in the morning when he finally made it to Arthur's door.
"Sire? I have some extra breakfast things sent up from the kitchens," he said as he entered.
"Hmm? Oh, Merlin."
"Shall I...?"
"What? Oh, yes, on the table." Arthur waved absently at the table where his other breakfast dishes lay in all their carefully arranged and untouched splendour.
"Is there something wrong with your breakfast?"
Arthur just waved a hand at him again without looking up. "Take a seat, Merlin."
Merlin blinked. "Um-"
"Sit, Merlin," Arthur repeated and was by Merlin's side in two strides, gripping him by the shoulder and half forcing him towards the table and down into a seat.
Once he was seated, Arthur's hand gentled but didn't leave. Merlin looked up at Arthur, baffled, but was only greeted with a distracted smile instead.
"I don't suppose you've eaten yet. I take it Lancelot has...," he trailed off, looking uncharacteristically uncertain. "Lancelot has departed from Camelot?"
"Yes. Just, ah, now."
Arthur just nodded, and grasped Merlin's shoulder more firmly. "I am... sorry to see your friend go. I know my father has been, well, difficult."
Merlin nodded and smiled. "Lancelot thought it best to leave. I don't think it had that much to do with your father."
"What do you think about it?" Arthur asked, and let his hand slip from Merlin's shoulder to walk around to his usual side of the table.
"About Lancelot leaving? I didn't-"
"Didn't think he should go?"
"He did what he felt was right." Merlin took a deep, fortifying breath, and was deeply grateful for the reprieve when Arthur turned his attention to his breakfast. "I suppose we might see him again some day. Maybe."
"Perhaps," Arthur said around a mouthful of food. Merlin felt his eyebrows raise involuntarily, prompting a smirk from Arthur. "Don't look at me like that, Merlin. Table manners aren't required with ones manservant."
"Whatever you say, Sire," Merlin grinned back, and then gave in when Arthur gestured again to the spread of food, demanding he eat.
"I'm glad you're still here," Arthur said seriously a little while later, once they'd both finished stuffing their faces.
"Of course I am. Where else would I be?"
Arthur's lips twitched up at the corners, and he dropped his gaze back to the table top.
"You never know," he said. "One day you might get a better offer than simply being my servant." He shrugged, and tried to cover a frown by reaching for the plate of bread, but Merlin saw.
Merlin just grinned widely. "Don't worry, I'm not going anywhere."