Work Text:
"What in heaven's name is going on?"
Strange sounds had made their way into Arthur's sleep and disturbed his dreams. Now that he is mercilessly awake he realises the noise comes from Aithusa – she's agitated about something.
Arthur throws a glance at Merlin, who is sleeping soundly by his side. Merlin always sleeps soundly. In fact, he could sleep for England (or Wales) and probably wouldn't wake up even if a helicopter tore through the room.
On the desk by the window, Aithusa is making a ruckus – flapping her wings, hopping and skipping and bouncing, slipping on sheets of paper and sending them fluttering all over the room. She whines and keens and sounds like a dog that really, really wants to go outside.
"What's the matter, Aithusa?" Arthur swings his legs over the edge of the bed, pushes his fingers through his hair and stretches. "What are you – oh, it's snowing!"
He is standing by the desk now, with Aithusa bouncing up and down in front of him, and they both watch the snowflakes whirling down outside, settling over the garden and the lead-grey sea beyond.
"Snow on Christmas Eve! Perfect timing, too." Arthur runs a hand down Aithusa's back, feeling the ridge and scales under his fingers. She never ceases to amaze him. A magical pet – a dragon. One of the wonders that come with a magician boyfriend.
Aithusa turns her head and gives him her most pleading, puppy-like look.
"You want to go out and play?"
She gives a skip and slips on another sheet of paper that flutters away and settles on Merlin's chest. He doesn't stir. Arthur watches him for a moment: the impossibly long eyelashes against the pale skin, the pretty mouth, relaxed in sleep... The tenderness in Arthur's chest overwhelms him. Sometimes his feelings for Merlin are almost too much. Almost.
He turns to Aithusa. "I have an idea. Give me ten minutes, Aithusa, okay? Then I promise we'll all go and play in the snow."
Pleased, she settles down on the few sheets of paper still left on the desk and continues to gaze at the falling snow.
Arthur makes hot chocolate in the kitchen, humming to himself while he keeps an eye on the snow, worried it will stop before they're outside. But the snowfall shows no signs of stopping. If anything, it's getting heavier. The grass is completely covered now and the whole world is monochrome.
Time to wake Merlin.
Waking Merlin isn't the easiest thing to do, never has been, but with a lot of kissing and coaxing, Arthur succeeds. Five minutes later they're standing in the snowy garden with mugs of steaming hot chocolate in their mitten-clad hands, wet flakes settling on top of Merlin's woolly hat and the hood of Arthur's parka. Aithusa doesn't care about hot chocolate. Right now, she doesn't care or notice anything in the world except her first encounter with snow.
"Look at her," says Merlin, astounded. "She loves it. Somehow I'd never imagined she would."
Arthur tilts his head to one side. "I'd say 'love' is an understatement."
The first shock of cold had made Aithusa stand stiff-legged with an astonished look on her face, but after her first cautious and measured little skip in the white stuff there had been no stopping her. She adores the snow. She makes love to it. She throws herself in it, rolls around in it, flies up in the air and dives back down with a delighted squeal, runs hither and thither with her nose deep in the snow like a dog following a scent.
She bounces and flaps, looking at Merlin and Arthur like "see what I can do?". When they grin she's so happy she snorts a jet of fire, melting the snow in front of her and revealing a triangular patch of grass. Aithusa stops dead and stares at it with an affronted, offended look on her little dragon face as if she's been cheated out of snow that should rightfully be hers. Turning her head, she gives Arthur and Merlin an accusing look, like it's their fault the snow melted.
They're both laughing now, which makes Aithusa even grumpier. She mewls and growls at Merlin in that strange language only the two of them understand, and he replies, still laughing: "No, I can't make it come back, Aithusa. But there's more coming down from the skies, as you may have noticed? You just have to wait a bit. And while you wait, you have all the rest of the snow to play with."
He gestures towards the garden. Aithusa glowers at him. Two seconds later she's forgotten her temporary grouchiness and flips over on her back, flapping her wings.
Arthur grins. "Aww, snow angels! Cute."
"Snow dragons," Merlin corrects gravely.
And Arthur stops looking at Aithusa, at least for the moment. He can't take his eyes off Merlin in pyjama bottoms, winter boots and duffle coat, cheeks pink from the cold, eyes glittering… and that silly, woolly hat. How is Arthur so lucky that this man is standing here in Arthur's garden on Christmas Eve, drinking hot chocolate and laughing? How did Arthur's life get turned completely upside down? But no, that's not right. His life must have been upside down before, he thinks, because it's definitely the right way up now.
Arthur had spent his entire life looking for something, without knowing what that something was. But ever since he met Merlin, he's been exactly where he wants to be. And right now, right this moment, there's something he needs to ask. It's been brewing for some time but he's been afraid to even think about it. Be brave, Arthur.
"Merlin," he says, and something in his voice makes Merlin still.
"Yes?" Snowflakes are melting in Merlin's eyelashes and there's a trace of chocolate at the corner of his mouth. His breath is a cloud in the cold air.
"I've been thinking," says Arthur, his pulse noisy in his ears, "that you should move in with me. You and Aithusa should move in with me, here."
Merlin looks shocked, as if this truly hasn't occurred to him before. "Move in… with you?"
Arthur nods, heart thumping. "We're good together, don't you think? And you spend more time here than in your flat anyway." He's afraid to breathe.
Merlin sucks his lower lip in between his teeth and puts his mug down at his feet. "Yes. I mean… yes. It's… I… What I'm trying to say is - that's definitely up there with the best suggestions I've ever heard."
They kiss for a very long time after that, until Merlin breaks away and begins to rub at his arms and stamp his feet. "Brrr-rrr! Let's go inside and get a fire going. You could do that," he adds to Aithusa, who has just realised snow is edible and is busy licking snow from the grass. "Make yourself useful."
* * *
Late that afternoon, as dusk falls and they sit by the fire they've kept going all day, Merlin charms a string of ordinary LED lights into a string of luminous, Aithusa-like little dragons and drapes it around the mantelpiece. From the depth of his armchair, Arthur smiles. He loves watching Merlin use his magic for small, gentle things like this.
"Christmas magic," he murmurs.
Over by the fireplace, Merlin returns the smile. A crunching sound from the corner makes them both turn. Aithusa is in her bed with something trapped between her front paws, worrying it with her teeth.
"What's that she's got?" Arthur gets up and walks over to her. "What have you got there, Aithusa? It's not a… a bone, is it?"
She looks up innocently at the word "bone".
Arthur shakes his head. "You're more like a dog than a dragon sometimes." He leans down to stroke her head, scratch under her chin. She purrs and then hisses, making him pull away quickly. "Or a cat, I suppose."
Aithusa looks smug.
"No, it's not a bone," Merlin says. "It's a snowball."
"A snowball? But…"
"She loved it so much I let her take it inside. I've charmed it so it won't melt."
Arthur returns to his armchair and they sit for a while, listening to the fire and to Aithusa gnawing on her snowball.
Merlin stretches out his leg and nudges Arthur's foot with his own. "I could get used to this, you know."
Arthur's heart skips. "I hope so."
It's nearly dark outside now, but in here, the firelight paints the room with melted gold. The dragon lights make a soft pattern on the wall. Over in her corner, Aithusa falls asleep.
Quietly, Merlin pads over to the armchair and leans down to kiss Arthur. "Merry Christmas, Arthur."
This is happiness, Arthur thinks. This is nothing less than pure happiness. "Merry Christmas, Merlin."