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Arthur is standing in the doorway, blocking the sun. This makes him look like a messenger from heaven – rays of light forming a halo around his head, a beaming smile as bright as the light of the new day. My knight in shining armor, muses Merlin inwardly and bites his tongue. He should not stoop to cheesy comments even inside his head, for it’s not helping the kind of feeling Merlin has been developing to the Once and Future King throughout the centuries.
Arthur pushes his chest out and poses unintentionally, hand on the hip. It is always near the hilt of Excalibur. Ready to grab the sword and strike. He eyes Merlin with an unreadable expression, like he does in a fight, when he notices the counterpart’s weakness and already knows how to use it to his advantage. Merlin bites his lip nervously. There is something about Arthur these days, these modern days, his modern ways… The immortal warlock cannot help, but feel now he’s the one who can’t quite put his finger on what’s going on here. Maybe it’s his turn. Maybe destiny just can’t get enough of his confusion and inner doubts.
Arthur tilts his head and throws his cloak behind his back, setting the shoulder free. His appearance is a wild clash of times: sports pants tighten with the leather belt with a sheath and a jersey shirt covered with the Camelot’s cloak. Merlin hates how easily Arthur slipped through time. How well he adjusted here, how gracefully he stands at the door frame, wearing this crazy mix of clothes as the second skin. Merlin knows how it goes: the minute they walk out of the house, Arthur is marching along the streets, spreading honour, valour and dignity. He lets the kids hold his sword and shows them a few battle moves, he bows and smiles at women making them feel like princesses, he jokes and fools around with men, making friends on the spot. Merlin hates how easy life is for Arthur, because it’s never been harder for him than it is now.
~
Merlin remembers the day Arthur returned. Bubbling water, soaking figure, searching eyes and himself rushing into the lake. Joy, fear, relief, mixed up and beating up inside his stomach, the swirl of magic inside, feeling its familiar source so close – he sobs and forgets how to breathe, he is all over Arthur, clinging, nuzzling into, pressing to.
‘ Easy, Merlin, or you will strangle me ’, he finally catches Arthur’s amused, but gentle tone. Suddenly he realizes he is straddling his King and being over emotional even considering the circumstances. By the Gods, he’s almost rubbing himself on Arthur and has he just kissed the blonde’s neck? Or has he just inhaled Arthur’s scent? Which is probably even worse?
To save them from mutual embarrassment, he quickly jumps to his feet, helps Arthur from the water and for the rest of the day he doesn’t shut up for a second. He talks about everything, mixing world history with the microwave instructions, and the Once and Future King just looks at him with a soft smile and raised eyebrows.
‘Is this some kind of dream?’ suddenly asks Arthur.
Merlin falls silent, being stopped right in his tracks. ‘This is real’, he says softly, almost as if he’s unsure of it himself. Arthur smiles and stalks closer. He traces the lines of Merlin’s arms with his fingers, gently, carefully, and the warlock feels he is about to lose his breath.
‘Good’, mutters Arthur quietly and pulls Merlin into embrace. They sink to the floor, still holding each other. Arthur’s breath gets steady and soon he’s drifting into sleep right in Merlin’s arms, while they’re still on the floor. Merlin holds his King, his destiny, his other half and smiles like a loon. Tears stream down his face and he tastes salt in the corners of his mouth.
This is bad , this is really bad. He’s crazy in love with Arthur. Who can never know the truth. Merlin licks tears from his lips, and the latter quirk into a bitter smile.
Well , at least he is good at keeping secrets.
Except he is not anymore. Must have lost his ability somewhere during the flow of lonely centuries, due to lack of practice, no doubt. From the day of the return he feels Arthur constantly watching him – carefully, intently, curiously.
Arthur slowly stumbles through the odds of living in the beginning of the XXI century, and Merlin is dancing around this awkward and troublesome process. He just can’t seem to dance in step with Arthur. Every time Arthur brings up some memorable moment from their past, Merlin freezes on the spot and slowly backs away. Every time exasperated Arthur eyes him with a pout on his lips and throws something in his direction, Merlin sinks to the floor, not to duck, but to avoid Arthur’s gaze. Every time Arthur tries to get closer, Merlin pushes him away. For his own good.
Arthur has no idea how close Merlin would really like to get.
~
Merlin had no idea himself for quite a while. It is funny how short a lifetime might seem when looking at it through centuries, how perspective changes, how the wind of time highlights a memory of a glance, smile or embrace. It hits him first in the beginning of XX century, during some poetry evening in the salon. A really lovely piece describing the most gentle and loving friendship between two men raises a discussion and the author points out ‘I believe friendship is the purest form of love’. Merlin can’t help but think of Arthur and his vision is blurred with sudden tears. Painful tug in his chest makes him leave early, and walking in the rain he doesn’t even notice tears coming down his face. He loves Arthur, he has always loved Arthur…
...
‘Merlin?’ asks Arthur one day. ‘Just tell me’.
‘Tell you what?’
‘What’s on your mind? I can feel it, you know. You look like a million ants have crawled under your skin’.
Merlin gulps and shivers.
‘And help me bathe, will you?’ with these words Arthur strips casually, and Merlin uses all his willpower not to look away.
This prat will be the end of him.
~
The lies from the past drag and occasionally slip from Merlin’s long tongue. They leave Arthur irritated or mad, distraught or broken, terrified and bewildered. Sometimes Arthur would punch the walls and scream in anger, sometimes rush out of the cabin and sit on the shore of the lake, sometimes he wouldn’t talk to Merlin for days . Everytime he comes back after all.
‘I am glad I have you’, he says, 'With you this world makes at least some sense’. And then… ‘So what do we do? Where do we need to go? Adventure must be calling us’
Merlin sighs and pushes him away.
‘Will you let me work?’
‘And will you let me live?’
Merlin freezes. Arthur stares at him and adds:
‘Cause you act like I am distracting you from your very interesting and exciting life’.
‘What?’
‘Where is your spouse, wife or partner, a house full of history of generations, where is your legacy, Merlin?’
‘I have none. I was too busy waiting for you!’
‘Oh, look, it is done – I am here! How long are you going to ignore it?’
Merlin gapes at him. Arthur advances towards him.
‘Just do it…’
‘Do what?’
‘Hug me like you did when I was out of the lake. For a start’.
Merlin’s breath hitches, but Arthur is already closing arms around his figure.
‘Idiot’, he whispers gently in Merlin’s ear.
‘Prat!’ Merlin breathes out and lets tears escape his eyes, 'You have no idea what you're getting into'.
'Oh, I do', Arthur whispers back, 'I am getting into you'.
He laughs at Merlin's shocked expression.
'Who told you I haven't wanted it all along'?