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There wasn’t anything unusual about Arthur returning to his penthouse with blood on his clothes.
It had shocked Merlin the first time he’d seen it, but after all these months he’d gotten used to it. So it wasn’t the blood that caught Merlin’s attention when Arthur stumbled back home in the early hours of the morning, though he did note that there was more of it than usual. It was the expression on Arthur’s face. Blank, distant. Anyone who didn’t know Arthur would assume he was lost deep in thought, but Merlin knew it was just the opposite. Arthur was doing everything in his power not to think. But the most telling thing of all was how long it took Arthur to realize he wasn’t alone. His gaze roamed around the living room, taking in the bright screen of the television, the empty mug on the coffee table, and finally landing on Merlin where he was curled up under a blanket on the couch.
“Why are you still awake?” Arthur demanded. His distant expression morphed into one of disapproval.
“The baby,” Merlin answered simply. Now Arthur’s disapproval turned into concern.
“Is everything alright?”
“Everything’s fine. He woke me up a little while ago and wouldn’t settle down, so I thought I’d just watch a movie until he decides to stop using my internal organs as a punching bag.”
“Ah.” Arthur’s eyes moved back to the empty mug and his disapproving frown returned. “Is that tea? Shouldn’t you not drink tea while pregnant?”
“Tea is fine in moderation,” Merlin said, unable to keep from rolling his eyes. They must end up having this conversation at least a few times a week. “And it wasn’t tea anyway. It was hot water with lemon and honey in it.”
Arthur made a noncommittal noise and started fiddling with the cuff of his shirt as an excuse to not make eye contact. “And how is the baby now?” he asked after a moment.
“He’s calmed down a bit.” Though not nearly enough, Merlin thought as he felt a sharp kick against his insides. He observed Arthur for a long moment, uncertain about whether or not he wanted to chance saying something. He doubted Arthur would hurt him, not with the baby, but that didn’t mean he’d like Merlin sticking his nose where it probably wasn’t welcome and Merlin didn’t want to engender any bad feelings between them.
It was concerning, though, to see Arthur looking so off his game when he was the main thing standing between Merlin and all the people who wanted to hurt him now that he was carrying the Pendragon heir. There’d already been one incident when Merlin had still been living at the brothel. He wasn’t particularly eager to see what Arthur’s enemies would come up with next.
“Are you alright?” Merlin asked softly. Arthur’s gaze snapped up to his, unnervingly intense. Merlin curled his hands into fists under the blanket as he watched Arthur try to gather his composure. He partly succeeded, though Merlin could see the gaps in it and wondered if Arthur was just that off this evening or if Merlin really was getting that good at reading him.
“Of course I am,” Arthur lied smoothly. “Why wouldn’t I be.” Merlin was tempted to throw the question right back at him, but the tension with which Arthur held himself told him pushing for answers tonight wouldn’t end well.
He wasn’t fooled though. An Arthur who was alright didn’t stand around in his own penthouse, still dressed in blood splattered clothes, mind refusing to leave the job despite the fact that it had probably been hours since the actual deed was done. An Arthur who was alright would have immediately noticed Merlin in the living room and jumped to scold him for being awake at such an ungodly hour before going to clean himself up. It would be a cold day in hell before Arthur ever admitted he wasn’t alright though.
Turning the movie off, Merlin hauled himself up from the couch and approached Arthur cautiously, all too aware of the alertness with which his movements were tracked. Paranoia was a part of this life as surely as guns and violence and all manner of other crimes, but Arthur’s paranoia was putting Merlin on edge tonight. He’d never given Arthur a reason to be wary of him, at least not that he was aware of, and yet Arthur was eyeing him like he expected Merlin to pull a weapon on him. It made him hesitant. Maybe he would be better off just going to bed and hoping this would blow over by morning.
But what if it didn’t? Whether he liked it or not, Merlin needed Arthur right now, preferably in a state where he was able to protect him. So Merlin firmed his resolve and gently took Arthur’s hand, leading him down the hall to the master bedroom, then to the en suite. Arthur followed without protest, though he still had that wary expression on his face. Merlin ignored it. In the en suite he took a deep breath and faced Arthur.
“Here, let me help you,” Merlin said quietly, reaching for the buttons on Arthur’s shirt. Arthur grabbed his wrists before his fingers could even brush the fabric and Merlin took note of his wince. “Are you hurt?” His eyes zeroed in on Arthur’s arm. Now that he was closer he could see the fabric of his shirt was torn there.
“It’s nothing,” Arthur dismissed. “I’ve got this. Go get me a clean towel and a change of clothes.” Merlin nodded, for once not feeling the urge to argue about being ordered around. He went and dug out a pair of pajama pants and a t-shirt from Arthur’s closet and waited until he heard the sound of the shower turning on and Arthur getting in before reentering the en suite. The clothes and a clean towel from the cupboard were left on the counter. Then Merlin retrieved the first aid kit and went to sit on the bed to wait.
He had a burning need to know what could put a man like Arthur Pendragon in a place where he needed someone to take care of him. Arthur was cold, calculating, ruthless. Nothing seemed to faze him. Merlin wondered if this had ever happened before and who would have taken care of him then. His sister, maybe? But Morgana hardly seemed like the loving, caring type, even when it came to her own brother. Perhaps especially when it came to her own brother. It couldn’t be one of Arthur’s men. They were friends of a sort, but Arthur would never allow himself to show weakness in front of them. He seemed to be good friends with Lance’s wife, Gwen, but not close enough to rely on her, even at a time like this. More than likely when Arthur had gotten like this in the past he’d been left to deal with it alone.
What a lonely existence this man lead, Merlin realized. A distant father, an antagonistic sister, friends that were also your employees, enemies around every corner. As far as Merlin could tell, Arthur didn’t have anyone but himself to rely on. Not that he was feeling sympathy for Arthur, Merlin told himself firmly. A man who murdered and perpetuated the crimes that had destroyed Merlin’s family didn’t deserve his sympathy. These were just…observations.
Arthur didn’t look much better when he came out of the bathroom, dressed in fresh clothes and hair still damp. True, he was no longer covered in blood, but he still looked lost. He was going to need far more than a clean shower to get his head on straight and Merlin had no idea where he was supposed to start. With the obvious, he supposed.
“Let me have a look at your arm,” Merlin said. Without blood and torn shirt covering it he could see there was indeed a wound there, bleeding a bit again now that it had been agitated by a good scrubbing.
“It’s hardly more than a scratch,” Arthur scoffed, not even glancing at it.
“Let me look at it anyway,” Merlin insisted. “You’d be surprised how dangerous even a small cut can be if it’s allowed to get infected. It’s always better to be safe.” His motivations were purely selfish, Merlin told himself as Arthur came and sat beside him on the bed, letting his arm be examined. He didn’t really care about Arthur, but until the baby was born he was relying on Arthur for everything. That was why he carefully cleaned the wound, applied some disinfectant, and wrapped it securely in a clean bandage. That was why, when he was done with that, he turned his attention to the almost negligible cuts on Arthur’s face. Most of them were little more than paper cuts, but there was one longer and deeper one on Arthur’s cheek that should probably be covered. Just to be safe.
He smoothed a bandage over the cut, letting his fingers linger longer than was necessary. Before Merlin could pull his hand away Arthur caught it, keeping it pressed against his cheek. Startled, Merlin froze. He met Arthur’s eyes, but couldn’t quite read him well enough to figure out what was going through his head. Arthur held eye contact as he slowly turned his head enough to kiss the palm of Merlin’s hand. And then his expression softened. Not by much, but enough to make Merlin’s heart pound in his chest.
“Stay tonight,” Arthur whispered. With me, went unsaid but Merlin heard it anyway. He should say no. This thing between them was a business arrangement, nothing more. Arthur was paying him to have a baby. Feelings had no place in their agreement. And yet…
“Just let me put the first aid kit away,” Merlin said. Arthur nodded and pressed another kiss to his hand before letting go. Merlin pretended his hands weren’t shaking as he packed the first aid kit away and took it back to the en suite. He lingered, leaning against the counter and frowning at his reflection in the mirror.
What was wrong with him? Why was he doing this? He shouldn’t be offering comfort to a man who had almost certainly killed someone tonight. A man who had killed people on countless other nights and would undoubtedly do so again. Arthur was exactly the kind of man Merlin had spent years hating and now here he was, bandaging his wounds, offering him comfort. But it was hard to remember what kind of man Arthur was when he looked at Merlin like-
Merlin took a deep breath, releasing it slowly. He unclenched his hands from the bathroom counter and shoved all of his confused feelings to the back of his mind. It was almost four in the goddamn morning, not at all the time to thinking about such things. He was too tired. All he wanted was to get some sleep and if that was going to happen in Arthur’s bed instead of the one in the guest room down the hall then so be it.
Feeling somewhat composed, Merlin went back to the bedroom. Arthur was already under the covers, watching the door of the en suite. Merlin crawled in beside him. For a while they just lay there, Arthur still watching him and Merlin picking at the sheets. Just as Merlin was considering calling it quits and going back to the guest room Arthur scooted across the bed.
“Turn around,” Arthur ordered. Merlin did and Arthur settled right up against his back, arms coming around so his hands rested on Merlin’s stomach. His breath tickled the back of Merlin’s neck. It was strange, but not unpleasant. Exhaustion made it easier to ignore the strangeness and within minutes Merlin found himself being lulled to sleep by the soft rhythm of Arthur’s breathing.