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“Merlin, my beloved, my dove, my soul, if you move again, I will murder you.” Gwaine adjusted the lens on his camera, and he didn’t snarl when Merlin shifted a bit, but he debated it. “Merlin?”
“Sorry, just the ground is cold.”
“I know,” Gwaine immediately relented. His friend was doing him a favour, for free, he could not be a dick about it. “Almost done,” he promised. He looked around, what he was doing wasn’t working. So he would change it. “Tell me a spooky story, Merlin.”
“When have I have been able to stay still telling a story?” Merlin sat up and glared at him. “That’s a weird trap.”
“No, change of plans, wander, tell me a story.” Gwaine followed Merlin at a distance as the man relaxed, and wandered the graveyard. He took photos as the light faded and he nodded to himself a bit, because it would be better. Half an hour later it was almost full dark, and he got one last photo. “Brilliant, and now I owe you a giant hot chocolate with a tower of whipped cream, and sprinkles.”
Merlin smiled, “and sprinkles.”
They went back to Gwaine’s flat and Gwaine made Merlin the drink, and had a whisky. He even added the sprinkles - to the hot chocolate, not the whisky. Gwaine automatically put on Lord of the Rings for Merlin, and he sat at the computer near the couch, uploaded the photos he had taken. They were good, and now was the time to have fun with them. He started to edit, and hummed along occasionally to the score. He had technically only sat and watched the movies once all the way through, he didn’t care for them really, but Merlin loved them. So when they wanted to hang out but not actually talk, he put the movies on for Merlin and would read or work. He had them memorized to ear, but couldn’t tell you what Farazir, Pippit, or whatever looked like. He saw Merlin pour him another finger and kissed the man’s arm. “Spider?”
“Almost, want me to head out?”
“Why?”
“No clue, I ordered curry.”
Gwaine grunted and went back to work. He paid for the food when it arrived, and sat on the couch as they ate and watched Sean Bean die. Borobean, he was sure was the name of the character. “Thanks for helping me tonight.”
“Of course,” Merlin agreed and put his feet in Gwaine’s lap, and Gwaine automatically rubbed them. “Sorry your model canceled on you.”
“You captured what I wanted better than they would have,” Gwaine yawned and checked that Merlin had put his takeaway on the coffee table. He stretched out on top of the man. “Lancelot expecting you home?”
“No, when you called, he decided to pick up an extra shift. You are supposed to remind me to put in my night time retainer.” Merlin wrapped an arm around him. “Tell me about this project,” he said once the credits rolled.
Gwaine yawned and explained what he was going for, which was mostly spooky graveyard which sure it was cliched, but he wanted the romance of it. “Ghosts are romantic.”
“Was that what I was, a ghost?”
“Hmmm, ghost of first love,” Gwaine snuggled in. “Best love.”
“Love you too,” Merlin agreed. “My husband loves you as well.”
“Good, he’s great. Three way is, as ever, on the table.”
Merlin snorted. “You hate three ways. I remember watching porn with you and you getting mad because of how awkward they are, plus fundamentally it is public sex, and that is just weird. Which that part of the conversation never did make sense, and no don’t explain again.”
“Crashing with me or the guest room?”
Merlin rolled his eyes, “where do you think?”
“Your pjs are in the usual drawer.” Gwaine went to have a shower and Merlin was curled up in bed, face timing with his husband. “Hey, Lancelot, how’s the hospital?” He lay down next to Merlin.
“Quiet. You two had a good shoot?”
“Yup, you’re up next you know.”
“I am?” Lancelot smiled a bit. “Thought you said since I cut my hair short, I was dead to you?”
“You’ve been resurrected and you are perfect for my ghost of promises. Please?”
“Of course, Gwaine. Merlin, I love you, I’ll bring by coffee when I get off.” Lancelot smirked a bit, “and then we’ll see about getting you off once we’re home.”
Merlin flared bright red. “Go save lives,” he said and hung up.
“He’s a good one,” Gwaine said softly and pulled Merlin close. “You did good marrying him.”
“I know,” Merlin agreed. “You know -”
“How to use a camera? Quite well actually, yes I do know that.”
“Gwaine,” Merlin huffed.
“Merlin,” Gwaine huffed back.
“We both know you are lonely. When was the last time you hooked up with someone?” Merlin turned and looked at him in the low glow of the fairy lights that Gwaine had strung on the wall holding Polaroids of his friends, because yeah he was a basic bitch sometimes, so what? Gwaine didn’t answer. “That long, hmm? I keep telling you, you and Arthur would be perfect together.”
Gwaine rolled onto his back, and sighed. Merlin had been saying it for months, years, really. He groaned when Merlin sat on top of him. “This is familiar,” he teased.
“Yeah, yeah, focus on my words, not the fact that I’m the only one whose ridden you in what two months?” Merlin looked at him. “Fuck, Gwaine it’s been five months since you had sex? Are you dying, are you possessed? Oh my god, you got possessed doing your weird graveyard photos! What if I am possessed now too? What possessed me Gwaine, since apparently you got taken over by a Victorian prude. What has possessed me?” Merlin did a sign of the cross in the wrong order, “Foul demon out from my soul, it isn’t even mine! Homer Simpson rules, I gave my soul to Lancelot when we wed, you cannot claim it!”
Gwaine put his hands behind his head, and enjoyed the Merlin dramatics. “Maybe I fucked every eligible person in London? Burned through all who would have me. Now I must turn to a life of quiet and solitary contemplation.”
Merlin squinted. “What’s the real reason?”
“Perhaps seeing you being ridiculously happy made me want more than hook ups. But I’m no good in relationships.”
“You are great in relationships,” Merlin protested. “You were great with me.”
“That is because you are you, Merlin. You bring out the great in everyone.” Gwaine smiled sadly. “Not much great to bring out in me, is all. And don’t, not tonight, let me wallow in low self worth. I’m fine with the fact you and I didn’t work, what we have now is better. You are better with Lancelot than you ever were with me.”
“I know,” Merlin said easily, “I love you.”
“I love you too.” Gwaine pulled Merlin down and hugged him close.
“I also love Arthur Pendragon, and you would go nuts for him.”
“Merlin you are not Emma, stop matchmaking.”
“Ugh, Emma is the worst Jane Austen.” Gwaine knew Merlin was smirking against his shoulder, but he would not rise to the bait he would not. “Fanny is by far -”
Now that was a bridge too far. “I cannot let Lancelot remain married to a man who has lost all sense. I’m going to put you out of your misery now.” He mimed choking Merlin.
“Oooh, since when do you like breath play?”
“Shut it,” Gwaine said. He put on his reading glasses, and buried himself in Persuasion. “Go to sleep, Merlin.”
“Read to me,” Merlin yawned and settled in at the other end of the bed.
“All the privilege I claim for my own sex,” Gwaine began where he had left off and read a few pages out loud until Merlin was asleep. He read a couple chapters and then went to sleep as well.
*
“Merlin,” Gwaine had gone to Merlin’s office and nodded to the few people who knew him, “Merlin, what to tell me why Morgana Pendragon is contacting me about family portraits? I haven’t done family portraits in years.”
“Not true,” Merlin protested, “You did those pictures of me and Lancelot?”
“How the fuck does Ms. Pendragon know about those?”
Merlin turned bright red, “Not those ones, the Christmas ones.”
“Oh, yeah, the first Christmas tree,” they were great photos he had taken because he loved his friends, and they wanted to be all dorky. “But that was a special circumstance. Merlin, I’m busy with the book.”
“Book?”
Shit, he hadn’t actually explained the graveyard photos beyond the feel he was going for. “I maybe have a contract? For a mixed media book. Short stories, poems, art, and photos. About graveyards and death and love and all that.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Merlin, like five people are gonna buy it. They won’t even make their money back.”
“And?”
“And if I talked about it, it would jinx it, yes I know.” He moved and sat on Merlin’s desk. “Now focusing on the current problem. I have been told I am taking family pictures of Morgana, Uther, and oh look Arthur Pendragon?”
“I swear I had nothing to do with it,” Merlin held up his pinkie finger. “Swear.” Gwaine automatically hooked his pinkie around it. “And you could just say no.”
“Merlin, they are paying me 2,000 quid. I am not saying no to that. Also I don’t feel like you say no to Morgana.”
“You don’t, not if you like your internal organs, you know, internal.”
“So, what do I need to know?”
“It will be a shittier job than when you spent that month on the winter fishing rig taking photos for National Geographic.”
“Fuck, Merlin.” Gwaine cursed internally a bit more. “I’m earning every penny aren’t I?”
“Did Morgana mention hazard pay? Because if she did? I’d take it.”
“Right, I’m off, St Paul’s finally gave me permission to take some photos in the basement.”
“Need me to model?”
“No, doing some weird self portraits.”
“Can’t wait to see them.”
Gwaine went to the cathedral and a guide took him to where he was able to take pictures in an area not currently on tours. He had had to fill out so many forms, and call in a few favours, but he was there. He was quiet for a minute respectful. The dead didn’t care but he just thought it polite to thank them for allowing him into their space. He set up the tripod and a couple lights and then checked and took it down to one, he didn’t want it too bright. He leaned against one of the tombs and took a few slow breaths, thought about what it would have been to fight Napoleon, the War of the Roses, a million ancient conflicts, to be important enough to end up here and know it was just because of your nobility not your true worth. He looked right at the camera and started taking photos. A ghost of forgotten men.
He was only about halfway through his allotted time when there was noise at the door that distracted him. He looked over in annoyance, hit is clicker and a few more photos were taken. “I have more time?”
“I’m sure you do,” the new man was hovering outside the room. “But I need to talk to you.”
“Why?” He looked familiar, but he was sure he didn’t know the man.
“Because Morgana is paying you two thousand pounds to take family photos and I am prepared to pay you five not to.”
“Ahh, the illustrious Arthur Pendragon,” Gwaine nodded, “we can talk after I’m done my work.”
“I’m a busy man, this has already taken too much out of my day, just take the money for not working, something I’m sure you would appreciate.”
Gwaine had to blink a few times to clear the rage from his mind, and he squeezed the clicker hard at least a dozen photos were taken. He decided to ignore Arthur, because he’d never get into this room again. He moved the camera, adjusted his lights and stood against the wall. He closed his eyes and took a few pictures. Gwaine could feel Arthur fuming where he stood, still not coming into the room. “I’m surprised,” Gwaine said and turned his head to look at Arthur, “That Merlin would be friends with someone who would say such.” He saw the man flinch at that. “I’m working, I can talk in twenty minutes.” He continued taking his photos until his time was up and he carefully packed his equipment. Arthur was gone, must have gotten bored.
The light outside hurt his eyes when he emerged from the church and then he heard, “I’m sorry.”
Gwaine looked over and raised a brow, waited. But there was nothing else, “To clarify which are you sorry for, the interrupting my work, the vaguely calling me a whore?”
“It was more a shiftless layabout implication,” Arthur offered, which made Gwaine laugh a bit. “We’ve never met.”
“Merlin said it was just one of those weird circumstances.”
“No, I didn’t want to meet you, felt you brought out the worst in Merlin.”
Lovely. Just lovely, “Fuck you are really awful, just like I guessed you would be, no matter what Merlin said.” He knew Merlin was wrong, that they’d be a good fit. “Fine, five thousand to do nothing, I’ll take that.” He prattled off his venmo email and walked away, knew he’d end up donating that money to charity.
“He got a tattoo when he was with you!” Arthur was chasing after him. “He dropped out of grad school. Do you know how amazing he is, he could have been someone.”
“You are someone, do you really want for Merlin?” Gwaine replied. He turned around, “fuck rich prats like you. Fuck traditionalism that is only acceptable if it is a certain way. That tattoo is a family crest he made up for he, Hunith, and Gaius since they had nothing. He dropped out because his advisor stole his work and hit on him and no one believed him but me. I know exactly how amazing he is. He is someone to himself, to Lancelot. To anyone who has ever picked up a book he ordered for the library. He doesn’t need millions or a title to be someone.”
“I know that!” Arthur shouted, “I do, but, fuck, ugh. Now, I am causing a scene in public.” He wasn't really, it was London and no one was going to turn at one random man shouting.
“You can cause one in private then, come on.” Gwaine knew, something was going on. This was a moment. He didn’t know if it was a good or bad moment but it was a moment. He hailed a taxi and gave an address. They were let off and Arthur paid before he could. Gwaine lead him through a gate and they were in a pauper’s graveyard. Arthur stopped, went very still.
Gwaine turned and looked, “are you holding your breath?” He was. Gwaine looked at the graveyard and then back at the man and all his rage was gone in an instant. Explained why he hadn’t stepped foot in the room. “A ghost won’t jump into you while you breathe.” He waited and eventually the man had to breathe again, though that was impressive lung control. “Swimming, or sucking cock?” he said crudely.
“Both actually,” Arthur replied as he gasped. He braced his hands on his knees. “I hate graveyards.”
“I love them,” Gwaine replied. He went further in, and there was a bench; he sat and took a few pictures with his phone, not interested in unpacking his better equipment that he had set by his feet. “They are the most important truth there is.”
“And what is that?” Arthur called, from where he seemed to be planted right at the edge of the space.
“That we’re all the same in the end, ash and bone. No matter how titled you were in life, eventually you’ll be forgotten just as much as the rest of us.”
“I didn’t mean any of it.”
“Yes, you did,” Gwaine turned his phone, and took a few pictures of Arthur.
“I suppose I did,” he was tense and not looking down. “But I didn’t, I was taking out my anger on you and just wanted to hurt you. That was unworthy, especially since I know -”
“Know what?”
“Merlin became better because of you,” Arthur said after a moment. “He was always hiding himself, who he was. And you changed him, and I was scared. That when he stopped hiding, he’d move on from me.”
“Because you were still hiding?” There was a nod. “There are no ghosts, Arthur. Just a place of rest. Do you need a rest?” He waited and Arthur slowly made his way into the graveyard. “If it helps, I am complete shit.”
“No you aren’t. Merlin says you say that and are the most loyal man he knows.” Gwaine was grateful that his beard hid most of the flush that brought to his cheek. “You really don’t find it creepy here?”
“I don’t, I find it comforting.”
“Morgana wants these family pictures out of spite and anger. My father has finally had to acknowledge that she is his child, not just a ward. It’s going to break in the papers this week. He cheated on my mother and had a daughter before he had me. Then raised her without ever acknowledging this truth until she found out. And now we have to do these pictures, play pretend that we don’t all hate each other.” Arthur was looking at his hands. “They aren’t about being a family, they are about image and hate and pride.”
“Your mother won’t be in them?”
“She died when I was born. Do you know I don’t even really know what she looked like? My father got rid of every image of her. I only have old newspaper articles I found when I googled. She is just bone in the family mausoleum.”
Gwaine nodded. “Would paying me five thousand actually stop these from happening?”
“No,” Arthur breathed out. “It would then be another photographer. One I couldn’t trust.”
“And you trust me?” Gwaine laughed a bit. “An hour ago you were insulting me rather thoroughly, trying to make sure I hated you.”
“When I am scared, I turn to anger. Merlin’s been trying for years to get me into therapy for that.” Arthur nodded a bit. “I am sorry.”
“I know.” Gwaine thought about it. “So you trust me?”
“Merlin does, Lancelot does, so yes, I trust you.”
“Then we are going to make another stop.”
“I have meetings?” He sounded unsure, as if yes he had obligations but he also understood that this was a moment. That something was happening. “Fuck them. My father can’t get any more disappointed in me anyways. And anything to get out of this graveyard. Where are we going?”
“To another graveyard.”
“Bastard.”
“Trust me. Call your driver, I assume you have one.” There was a nod and Arthur was texting. Half an hour later they were in a town car and headed to their destination.
When they got there, Arthur told the driver to wait. “I don’t know about this.”
“You should have a family picture that matters,” Gwaine said. “Where do we go?”
Arthur guided them through the graveyard to the Pendragon mausoleum. “I don’t have a key to get us in. This was foolish.”
“Arthur, some of your horrible opinions of me? They come based in fact. I was once very disreputable.”
“Meaning?”
Gwaine reached into his camera bag and pulled out some lock picks. “Sometimes I like to take pictures that are not strictly legal if it gets me the shot I need.” It was an old and simple lock, it took him only a couple minutes to open it. “Being bad has its advantages.”
Arthur snorted a bit. “Yes, you are positively nefarious.” He was hesitant though. “What if I bother her?”
Gwaine wasn’t sure Arthur fully understood he had said that, the tone of wistfulness and heartbreak in the words. “Just bone and ash. The only ghosts here are the ones in your heart.”
“Doesn’t make it much better.”
“Show me.”
“I haven’t been here since I was fifteen. I threw up when Father tried to force me to come in. That was one hell of a birthday.”
Gwaine reached out, offered his hand. Arthur stared at it for a moment before took it and they went inside. Arthur lead them to where a spot in the wall said Ygraine Pendragon. There was an angel on the plaque and Arthur’s fingers traced it. Gwaine took out his camera and stepped back. The lighting wasn’t great but it didn’t matter. He took a few photos. “What do you know about her?”
“So little,” Arthur said, “other than I killed her.”
Gwaine was now thoroughly understanding Merlin’s rants about Uther. “Did you?”
“That was always the implication. Father told them to save her, she told them to save me. So the story goes, and her wants trumped his.” Arthur closed his eyes and pressed his forehead against the stone. “Every day, I was supposed to live up to her memory, her sacrifice, or what good was I?”
“Merlin thinks you are plenty good, and he is only wrong about cheese and rugby.” That got him a laugh. “If her ghost were here, what would you say?”
“Be gone foul demon, or scream and run,” Arthur said. He sat on the ground under her spot in the wall and looked up at Gwaine. “Always been my greatest fear, her ghost. Why I hate graveyards. She’d be so disappointed in me.”
“Would she?” Gwaine took photos, of Arthur’s haunted gaze. “Merlin says you’ve doubled your company’s charitable contributions, that you’ve improved safety in factories in India, created scholarships and all sorts of things like that. Seems like a thing a mother would be proud of.”
“I opened pregnancy clinics, with my money I inherited from her. Four, fifth will open next year. I get letters, saved a few lives. That’s a good thing, right?”
“It is.” Gwaine sat on the ground of the mausoleum across from him. “I believe in ghosts you know.”
“Well, that’s just stupid.”
“You held your breath at the other graveyard, Arthur.” Arthur flipped him off. “Not the on All Hallows Eve the ghosts in graveyards rise to dance, but that we all carry ghosts in us. I carry the ghost of my father, the ghost of all the wrong I did before Merlin, the ghost of what could have been if he and I were meant to be. I am the ghost of failed potential.”
“You don’t seem like a failure to me.” Arthur looked a bit less haunted. “What am I then? What ghost will you name me in those photos you just took?”
Gwaine lifted the camera to his eye, “the ghost of unbearable pratishness.” He clicked right as Arthur grinned, “and the ghost of unknown love.”
“Well this has just been the fucking worst,” Arthur stood up. He pressed his fingers against Ygraine’s plaque. “Do you think she would have liked me?”
“I think she loved you more than you’ll ever understand.”
“I didn’t ask that.”
“I don’t know,” Gwaine replied, “I think she would want you to like you. Do you?”
“I think in this moment, I do.” Arthur kissed the plaque. “Goodbye, Mother. I’ll visit again.” Gwaine packed up and went outside to give the man a moment. When Arthur stepped up beside him, he sighed, “I have no idea what to do now.”
“I recommend vast quantities of alcohol.”
“That sounds, yeah, that sounds good.”
“I’ll call Merlin.”
“Don’t, he’ll worry. I know I was a jackass before, I know you probably would rather do anything else but -”
“But,” Gwaine agreed. “Want to get drunk and fuck?”
“Just the drunk.”
“Fair,” Gwaine agreed. “Where’s your favourite bar?” The man blanked, “Come on I have a hell of a liquor shelf.” He took the man back to his place and paced the man carefully because he clearly wasn’t used to it. He put on Lord of the Rings as he would for Merlin and started working on some photos. He heard more booze being poured and then again. He turned and Arthur was sitting there crying and Gwaine was happy to pretend it was the whisky and the Battle of Helm’s Deep that had the man wrecked. But he went over and took the bottle away.
Arthur never said anything and eventually when Gwaine was finished his work for the night he heard a snore. He adjust Arthur on the couch, put a blanket over him and went to his own bed. In the morning the man was gone with not even a note left. Which is what he expected.
Eventually it was time to take the photos for the Pendragons. It was in a huge house in a library that looked like any rich person’s library, and he hated Uther Pendragon the second he saw him. He wasn’t exactly a fan of Morgana either, the rage in her eyes terrified him. And then Arthur walked into the room, looking cold. He started to arrange them, but Morgana and Uther had opinions and fuck he should have taken the five thousand pounds.
Every word they spoke to each other the two was coated in venom, and Arthur just went more and more rigid.
Gwaine grinned at him, “You know, Arthur, next time you stay over, we really have to get you a bit more comfortable, before we hit the fun times.” He watched Arthur flush and then the man laughed, all the tension leaving him, even as the other two stared in shock.
“I don’t know, I think considering everything that happened that night, I was rather…comfortable, as comfortable as I could be, anyways.”
“Arthur! We agreed that your predilections -”
“Bisexuality, Father,” Arthur said helpfully.
“Dear god, at least dally with people of worth,” Uther said. “And I think we are done today, thank you, but we’ll get a photographer who understands better what our family needs.”
“That’s fine, I’m good just earning the deposit. And besides I already took a family picture of Arthur.”
“We haven’t sat for you,” Morgana protested, “we’re the only family he has.”
Gwaine pulled a file folder out of his bag and handed it to Arthur. “No ghosts in this one at all, I promise.” He saw Arthur open it and it was him smiling seated below his mother’s grave plaque. “Have a good day.” He gathered everything and walked out. He breathed much easier once he was outside. Honestly, why Arthur was scared of graveyards when he grew up in that cold a house he’d never understand.
“Gwaine,” Arthur jogged out to him. “Thank you.”
“Sure, well,” Gwaine looked around a bit. “Good light, found a graveyard I want to explore. So, see you around I guess.”
“I could come?” Arthur was hesitant, waiting to be rejected.
“Thought you hated them. Don’t care for making people do things they hate.”
“I am curious what you’ll find this time. It’s - you - are interesting.” There was a bit of a shrug.
“Did Merlin tell you his theory of you and I?” Gwaine was desperately curious about this.
“What theory?”
“That you and I were perfect for each other.” Gwaine waited for Arthur to laugh or say something cutting, but the man looked thoughtful. “Complete rubbish right?” But there was no immediate agreement.
“Can I come along?” Arthur asked quietly. “I want to come along.”
Gwaine thought carefully, because if he said yes he was going to change his life. And he was fucking terrified of change this big. Why he always ran away from it. Arthur held out his hand, Gwaine could shake it goodbye, easily, move on. Failed potential.
He reached out and took Arthur’s fingers, held tight. “Let’s go haunt a graveyard.”