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Merlin watches, expressionless, as the first raindrop hits the window. It traces a delicate pattern on the glass as it trails down in hitching motions, almost shy in its advance. An small smile curves Merlin's lips at the image, a sweetness driving his somber thoughts away for a second. Soon, though, the sky cracks open and rain begins pouring down, a perfect reflection of Merlin's mood.
The morning is still young, and the first rays of sunlight have yet to break through the rolling clouds. Merlin isn't due to work that day anyway, but the uneasy feeling in his stomach woke him up well before the dawn.
Despite the inviting warmth of Arthur's embrace, he didn't manage to fall back asleep.
Cradling his mug between his hands, Merlin inhales the poorly made tea, trying to fight off a shiver. Standing shirtless in front of a window on a rainy day probably isn't Merlin's brightest idea - even less so as the temperature averages three degrees outside and the heating system doesn't work. But Merlin can't seem to move away, entranced by the raindrops painting ethereal shapes on the window.
He drinks a sip of his tea instead, nearly burning his tongue in the process, and grimaces at the taste. Despite Arthur's jabs at his obvious British heritage - and he could talk, with his rare-and-very-special brand of coffee - Merlin's never been a purist, not even on his worst days. But while teabags are, in his eyes, acceptable, microwaved water is definitely not.
It does say a lot about him, Merlin figures, that he preferred heating up the water this way rather than fetching Arthur's shiny, newly bought kettle. But the kettle is still neatly wrapped up in its box ; besides, Merlin doesn't want to wake Arthur quite yet. He still needs to do a bit of thinking - to sort out the conflicting emotions assailing him.
It's not that he doesn't want to live with Arthur. But he can't deny that it scares him a little, and the housewarming party of the previous day only made it all more real.
Sighing, Merlin blows on his still steaming tea in a vain attempt to cool it down, and watches as his breath fogs the glass of the window. He tries to remind himself that he chose this : if Arthur is the one who brought up the idea, Merlin didn't take too much convincing. He's lived with flatmates before, after all, and Arthur and him have spent many nights together in their two years of relationship.
But this doesn't feel like sharing an apartment with a flatmate at all. For all that he and Will, and later Gwaine, liked each other, there's never been that spark between them. There was some teenage fumblings with Will, yes, and an ill-advised one night stand with Gwaine. There was even the Edwin part everyone is careful never to mention to Merlin again - or to Arthur, for that matter. Those were fun. Pleasurable. Convenient.
But this level of intimacy - sleeping in the same bed without having sex beforehand, sharing a bathroom and a kitchen and everything from furniture to neighbors, living together - feels a whole lot more serious than that. There's commitment, and responsibility, and all those things that take his relationship with Arthur one step further.
And he wants it. He wants all of it, all that Arthur has to give, he wants to give him everything in return, and yet...
The door to the bedroom opens, and seconds later Arthur pads into the living room, his footsteps quiet, almost careful. Merlin turns to the faint sound, putting his thoughts aside for the moment, and smiles as Arthur yawns, hair spiking in the worst case of bedhead Merlin's ever seen on his boyfriend. Arthur is never in the best of moods in the mornings, and is rarely able to string a few words together before he's had his cup of coffee, which is why one is already waiting on the table - since Arthur's actually bothered to unpack his old kitchen furniture, and already had a perfect coffee machine in his last apartment.
With a nod, Merlin indicates the table, and melts at the sweetness of the smile Arthur sends his way.
He turns back to the window as Arthur inhales the smell of freshly brewed coffee with a blissful expression, and takes a sip of his tea, careful not to scald his tongue this time. He hears Arthur put his cup back on the table and looks out the fogged window again, pensive. A shiver runs down his arms, making him regret the sweater hanging on the desk chair in the bedroom, that he conveniently forgot as he dressed - too busy listening to Arthur snuffling snores.
He contemplates going back to fetch it, but in the end he doesn't need to : Arthur slots himself behind him and wraps his arms around his waist, his strong chest bleeding warmth against Merlin's back. Merlin leans into the embrace with a sigh, closing his eyes as Arthur presses a kiss at his nape.
"Having second thoughts?"
There's no accusation in Arthur's voice, yet Merlin can't help but wince at the question. Part of him marvels at how well Arthur knows him - though the rain pouring outside may help deciphering his mood - while the other curses him for being so perceptive.
"It's a bit late for that, isn't it ?" Merlin replies, hating how Arthur tenses at the words but unable, and unwilling, to take them back.
Arthur hums as he seems to gather his thoughts, thumb rubbing soothing circles over Merlin's hipbone.
"It's not," he says at last. "You know it isn't. I don't need your help paying for the flat, and I wanted to move out of mine anyway. You can be back to Gwaine's as soon as tomorrow, if you wish to."
Merlin leans his head back to rest against Arthur's shoulder, lets the words wash over him and quiet the worry thrumming in his chest.
"Except I can't, not really," he murmurs. "Because it would hurt you, wouldn't it?"
He hears Arthur's sharp inhale and feels him shift behind him, an uneasy gesture. There's a non-committal hum again, a shrug, but finally Arthur admits :
"Yes, it would. But that doesn't mean you have to stay."
Merlin links their fingers together, and brings Arthur's hand to his lips, slowly kissing each knuckles. His voice is soft when he replies :
"Yes, it kind of does."
Arthur wraps his arms closer around him, tentative, and Merlin sighs, burrowing further into Arthur's embrace. Arthur obliges, tucking his head in the crook of Merlin's neck, and tightens his arms around his waist. His lips skim over Merlin's jawline, affectionate. Finding strength in the tenderness of Arthur's touch, Merlin resolves to open his heart :
"It's not that I'm having second thoughts," Merlin admitted. "I want to live with you, Arthur, I really do."
He can feel the tension bleed out of Arthur then, his arms relaxing, his heart slowing to a resting pace.
"What is it then ?" Arthur asks, keeping his voice low, as if he doesn't wish to disturb the quiet of the room.
Needing the few seconds to gather his thoughts, Merlin takes a mouthful of tea and puts the mug on the windowsill. He doesn't really know what's bothering him, and knows even less how to explain it to Arthur. But Arthur doesn't press him, simply content to hold him.
"When I was a child, I grew up thinking I would never find anyone to love me," Merlin finally says, figuring he ought to start from the beginning. "I mean, there was my mother, and my uncle, and Will. I had family, and I had friends. But romantically ? I always thought I would end up alone. Because I've seen the sort of love my parents shared, or Gaius with Alice - how could I ever compare ?"
He feels Arthur tense against his back, knows he's about to say something - probably to contradict him - but now that Merlin's started, he needs to follow his train of thought, to get the words out.
"And then I realized I was gay, and it kind of squashed all hope I held on to. I mean, statistically speaking, that's a much smaller dating pool," he adds, aiming for light and missing by a mile. "I didn't remain chaste, that's true. There was Will, before we figured out we were much better off as friends. There was Gwaine, but, well."
"One doesn't need to explain Gwaine," Arthur murmurs in agreement, amusement coloring his tone.
He doesn't move away from Merlin, though, and squeezes his hand in an obvious encouragement to continue.
"And then there was Edwin - we all know how that turned out ; Cenred, some of the worst two weeks of my life ; and then Gilli, whom I discovered wasn't even attracted to men to begin with."
He sighs, allowing himself a second to feel sorry for his - up until now - disastrous love life.
"My point is," he says then, "that before you, I never had a serious relationship. I had flings, and one night stands, but nothing that ever made me want to..."
He trails off, voice catching in his throat, and takes a shuddering breath, even as Arthur stands utterly still behind him.
"Nothing that ever made me feel like my childhood self was wrong."
He hears a sigh at that, a soft exhale of breath, before Arthur cups his chin, turns his head toward him and brushes a kiss over his trembling lips. Emotion welling up inside him, Merlin moves to face Arthur, kissing him fully on the mouth even as the storm echoes outside.
The kiss is slow at first, almost chaste. That is something Merlin only just learned to appreciate : the quiet intimacy of a simple kiss, soft instead of passionate, speaking of tenderness rather than desire. But Merlin's heart is thundering inside his chest, mirroring Arthur's own, and he parts his lips, giving in to the desperation to feel Arthur impossibly closer.
He doesn't know how long they stay lost into each other, loosing track of time, but when Arthur leans back, his lips are wet and raw from kissing. Merlin doesn't resist at the impulse and presses a last kiss to his mouth before resting his head on Arthur's shoulder, Arthur's warm hand at his back.
"He was, you know."
Merlin hums, closing his eyes.
"Your childhood self. Of course he was wrong."
Arthur's voice is soft, but there's a particular quality to it, a quiet certainty, that prompts Merlin to say :
"I know. Believe me, Arthur, I know. It's not that I don't."
He sighs, trying to find the words to describe the painful clench of his heart at the memory of Arthur asking to move in with him.
"I think that, subconsciously, I didn't let myself fall in love on purpose," Merlin reflects. "Because I was so sure it would all end once I did, and I remember the look in my mother's eyes when..."
He swallows, fights the urge to flee, and goes on :
"But then you were there, and I loved you. I let myself fall in love with you, for the first time. And we're here, together, everything is perfect, and that scares me."
He sighs, knowing that he has to go on - he owes it to Arthur, the full, naked truth.
"Because I'm not having second thoughts," he murmurs. "But maybe I'm afraid that one day, you will."
Arthur presses his lips against Merlin's temple and lets silence fall, lets Merlin's frantic heartbeat slow as he cups his face between his hands. A private smile curves his lips as he meets Merlin's eyes.
"I wish I could promise you forever," he says. "But I don't think I'm ready to propose just yet."
Merlin sucks in a sharp breath, hit by the implications, but before he can say anything, Arthur goes on :
"As of now, I don't intend to go anywhere." He swipes his thumb over Merlin's cheekbone, a tender caress. "Why would I ? I have everything I need right here."
The words seem ridiculously sappy, even for Arthur, and he must realize that, since he adds :
"I mean, who would make me coffee in the morning, if you weren't there ?"
Merlin leans back, thoughtful. He knows Arthur isn't used to emotional vulnerability, though he's improved in the last few months, and he knows the teasing is his way of steering the conversation away from it. He knows all that, and shakes his head, smiling mischievously :
" You're right," he says, trying to hide the fondness in his voice and failing miserably. "This is a very good reason to stick around. That, and the cooking part."
"And the cooking part," Arthur agrees, nodding sagely.
"And the sex part," Merlin adds in all seriousness. "Don't forget how tireless I am in bed."
"You make it sound like such a chore," Arthur deadpans.
Merlin raises an eyebrow :
"I doubt it has escaped your notice at this point, but I do like having sex with you."
"More than like, I hope," Arthur says, smirking, and playfully noses at Merlin's hair.
"I guess it's enjoyable," Merlin retorts, and Arthur nips at his earlobe in retaliation.
Merlin moans at that, which defeats the purpose, really, but then Arthur is kissing the side of his neck, and Merlin almost feels like purring - which he would gladly do, if he were a cat.
"And there is that, too," Merlin murmurs, moving closer again to press butterfly kisses on Arthur's cheeks, his jaw, his brow - and doesn't Merlin relish in being the taller one then, if only by an inch.
Arthur looks right back at him, eyes soft, and Merlin helplessly falls in love all over again. Maybe, he thinks, kissing Arthur again, maybe this is enough. Maybe, this will be enough. He looks out the window, and smiles.
Outside, it stops raining.