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Merlin had expected the trek home to Ealdor to be lonely. He’d even brought with him a royal blue tunic of Arthur’s that wouldn’t be missed (Or at least he hoped). Just to have in his possession. If he caught Arthur’s musky scent as he reached into the bottom of his saddle bag, it was an added bonus.
Unfortunately, the smells of armour polish and myrrh made Merlin miss Arthur even more. He flopped back on his bedroll by the small fire and looked up at the gauzy veil of night studded with stars. The chilled night air filled his lungs. Snow had yet to fall, but Merlin had come prepared in his cloak and three layers of socks.
He was supposed to be happy that he could go home for the winter holiday, but it didn’t seem right.
So when he sang a bawdy ballad with his eyes closed, he nearly jumped out his skin when he heard someone else complete the other line.
Merlin gasped and opened his eyes to find Arthur smirking down at him.
Merlin scrambled up to his feet to stare at Arthur. “You’re real, right?”
Arthur laughed and threw him his sweetest smile. “You dream about me often, Merlin?”
Merlin rolled his eyes. “In my most dreaded nightmares, you always seem to make an appearance.”
Arthur pursed his lips and raised his eyebrows.
“First of all,” Merlin said, “should you really be away?”
Arthur stretched his neck and legs. He groaned with satisfaction as his hip popped.
“Arthur. You’re king. You can’t just galavant across the land for the hell of it.”
Arthur threw arms high above his head, going on his tiptoes as he stretched. “And you’re the court sorcerer.”
This was the stupidest thing Merlin had ever heard. “Yeah. Exactly. We really want both of the highest ranking officials of the Kingdom of bloody Camelot flirting in the middle of the woods.”
“If you’re flirting, you’re doing a terrible job.” Arthur sighed, swinging his arms. “We've gone away for diplomatic relations before. Gwen and Leon handle the castle fine in our absence.”
“And this is for…diplomatic relations?” Merlin spread open his arms wide and looked around.
Arthur started to dig a small hole in the ground with his boot. “Relations.”
“What sorts?” Merlin looked down at the hole. It was quickly becoming a small pit. He kicked heaps of dirt into the hole to fill it back in as the prat scooped it back out. Arthur eyebrows scrunched together.
“Relations,” Arthur stressed, as if hoping Merlin would simply understand.
“With me?”
“With you…and Hunith.”
“So you…you mean…fam—”
“It is a diplomatic relation of sorts,” Arthur said quickly. He gave up on his small pit and plopped down on Merlin’s bedroll.
“So you’re saying…you want to meet Hunith as part of my family?”
“Yes?” Arthur said. His cheeks glowed pink in the firelight.
“Yes or no.”
“Yes, of course yes!” Arthur clicked his tongue and turned his back to Merlin. “Don’t act so surprised.”
“I’m not surprised,” Merlin said. He sat next to Arthur, his hip pressed against Arthur’s back. When Arthur turned to glare at him, he brushed the hair away from Arthur’s eyes. The tension in Arthur’s shoulders seemed to melt.
“Stop,” Arthur muttered. “You know I love it when you do that.”
“Fine,” Merlin said. He grinned. “I won’t ever do it again.”
Arthur froze like a startled animal.
Merlin tried to keep a straight face as he watched Arthur’s resolve crumble.
“Fine,” Arthur said. “I suppose you may touch my hair.” He looked back into woods with defiant concentration.
“God,” Merlin said. “You’re actually quite cute sometimes.”
Arthur was used to this comment. So he simply curled his lip and grabbed Merlin’s hand and slapped it to his head.
A comfortable silence passed. The air was filled with the pleasant crackling of the fire and an owl hooting in the distance. “Thank you,” Merlin said eventually as he continued to run his fingers through Arthur’s hair.
Arthur hummed with satisfaction. “Yeah.”
“No. This means a lot. Coming with me. We can tell my mum that you know about my magic. I just recently became court sorcerer and all…she doesn’t know yet. And I want you to be there when I tell her everything.”
“I like your magic, Merlin.” Arthur smiled. “Love it, even. Because it’s a part of you and I…like you just as you are.” He turned to lay on his back, his head resting on Merlin's thigh. He met Merlin's gaze.
Merlin bit his lip, trying to hold back the urge to beam. He leaned down and whispered against Arthur's lips, “Clumsiness and all?”
“Don’t be absurd, Merlin," Arthur said, his eyes fixed on Merlin's mouth. "That’s one of your best selling points.”
“I am supposed to be offended or pleased?”
Arthur shrugged. “Neither. It’s a fact of your nature.”
“I’m starting to incline more towards offended." Merlin pulled his face and hand away from Arthur.
Arthur rolled his eyes in the most exaggerated manner, lolling his head around on Merlin's thigh and nudging his head against Merlin’s fingers. “Merlin, I fear if you can’t find the compliment in all my words of devotion, then you will never understand the depth of it.”
“You shouldn’t make it so hard. It should be spoken plainly, as the best compliments are.”
“There's no fun in that.”
“Oh, there’s much enjoyment in it for me.” Arthur tackled Merlin and kissed him soundly.
Later that night, they lay huddled close together, soaking in the warmth of the fire and each other's bodies. Arthur hummed tunelessly, his feet bouncing under the thick wool blanket. He pressed his lips against Merlin's neck and whispered against Merlin's skin, “I knew this was a good idea. Happy holidays, my lovely sorcerer.”
Merlin patted Arthur's head. “And to you, my lovely cabbage head.”
Arthur cried out like he'd been stabbed in battle. "Really?" he breathed. "We were having a romantic moment."
Merlin stared at him. "But your cabbage-shaped head is one of your best selling points."
After they exchanged glances, realisation dawning on Arthur's face, they both cackled, their voices echoing into the wintry night.