Chapter Text
When Merlin imagined his first kiss with Arthur, it would be during a moonlit walk or a sunny picnic. They would exchange gentle insults and find any excuse to touch each other until devolving into simply cuddling up together and Arthur would look at him the way he sometimes does, with those big doe eyes all vulnerable and loving and he would lean in and it would be soft and sweet and Merlin would be happy.
Their actual first kiss is different. Arthur was dying and there was nothing he could do, not without using magic, so he tried, of course he did. But it didn’t seem to be working. Arthur wasn’t breathing and for one terrifying moment his heartbeat was gone, but then - then he blinked awake and blearily asked where he was. Merlin really didn’t mean to, but his overwhelming love and exhilaration propelled him to take Arthur’s face in his hands and stroke his cheeks and kiss him.
It’s not what he’s always dreamed of. It’s not soft and sweet, it’s scared out of his mind and Merlin just barely aimed right and Arthur is nonresponsive beneath him and Merlin pulls away as quickly as he’d leaned in.
Arthur looks dazed, but not in the endearing way just after Merlin’s woken him up. There’s a crease of confusion between his eyebrows and his hand is moving towards his mouth. Those wide eyes form a frown. “What,” he mumbles.
“I’m sorry,” Merlin says, guilt and dread already pooling in his stomach, “it’s just, I thought you were dead but then you weren’t and just - I don’t know, forget I ever did that, alright? How are you feeling?”
“I don’t know, actually. How is one meant to feel after their manservant kisses them?” Arthur sounds angry and Merlin winces but at least he’s alive and conscious enough to be angry, surely that’s a good sign. Though ‘good’ is very subjective in this case.
“Look, I told you I’m sorry, I swear I’ll explain later, but for now, please just tell me if you’re alright. Let me take care of you and when I don’t have to worry about you dying on me, I’ll tell you everything. I promise.”
Arthur still looks confused and frustrated but he doesn’t argue any further. Merlin almost hopes that he’ll forget the kiss ever happened and that will be the end of it, but he knows better than that by now. Arthur is an expert at needling Merlin when there’s something he doesn’t understand, almost dying won’t have changed that.
Merlin’s making a fire - Arthur wanted to go back to Camelot immediately, but Merlin insisted he had to rest so they’re camping for the night - when it finally comes up.
“Merlin, why did you kiss me?” Arthur asks. Merlin’s not used to him sounding so genuinely bewildered and he thinks he can detect a hint of fear. Is the thought of Merlin loving him really that terrible?
“Don’t know, why do people normally kiss other people?” There is a long silence that makes Merlin suspect he failed at keeping his tone light and casual.
“You love me,” Arthur finally says. He sighs and leaves his sitting position to lie back on the forest floor.
“I do,” Merlin admits.
“For how long?”
Merlin shrugs. “Honestly, I don’t know when it started. Maybe it’s always been there somehow. You just… I see the kind of man you are, the kind of man you will become, and I can’t help but love you. To want to keep you safe, above all else.”
“A long time, then.” His voice betrays no emotion, but Merlin thinks he sees his eyes soften just a little.
“Yes.”
It’s quiet again for a time. Merlin sits against a tree, keeping a careful distance from Arthur. It’s not like he’s scared of him, but he doesn’t want to make him uncomfortable.
“I’m sorry,” Merlin offers. “I know that you don’t love me back, and I’m not expecting anything from you. That’s why I never told you, I didn’t want you to… I don’t know, to feel sorry for me. Or uncomfortable. But maybe now you do so I understand if you don’t want me to serve you anymore. I only ask that I can stay in Camelot, close to you. So that I can watch over you.”
“Of course I’m not sending you away,” Arthur says, sounding affronted at the very thought. “You can’t control your feelings, it wouldn’t be right to punish you for them. But you are right that I don’t… return your affections.”
They stare into the fire. Merlin wasn’t expecting this to hurt. He knew Arthur didn’t love him back, why would it hurt to hear it? But maybe there was always this quiet hope. He supposes there must have been, otherwise imagining their first kiss would’ve been even more pointless than it already was. Now that hope has been completely and utterly squashed and a kind of sorrow settles inside him.
“I think I need some time to think,” Arthur says after a while. Merlin has to resist asking if he should really be doing that. “When we get back to Camelot, I’ll ask George to serve me for a couple of days.”
“Alright,” Merlin says quietly. He doesn’t dare look at Arthur, too afraid of seeing disgust or pity on his face.
“I am sorry,” Arthur tells him.
-
Almost dying does not feel amazing. Arthur supposes that for once in his life, that’s a good thing; now at least he doesn’t have to think about the news that Merlin’s in love with him. It just feels so big, like something that should be world-shattering, but he’s not so sure if it is. He doesn’t want to think about it while having to be helped on his horse by Merlin and having his temperature checked on with his incredibly gentle hands. So yeah, it’s a good thing he doesn’t have to and he’s free to enjoy Merlin’s soft touches without overthinking them like usual.
It’s kind of awkward when they arrive at Camelot. “I’ll be off to Gaius’, then,” Merlin says with a semi-cheerful voice as he scurries away once he’s got Arthur settled in bed. Arthur hardly registers it, he’s a little fuzzy from the exhaustion and that heart-breakingly adoring look in Merlin’s eyes as he tucked him in.
He sleeps for a time, doesn’t even know how long, and George wakes him. Arthur realises he never even asked him to fill in for Merlin and feels a little guilty at the thought that Merlin had to arrange his own replacement, that can’t have felt good.
Gaius won’t allow him to do much more than work in his chambers all day, giving him plenty of time to reflect on things. Merlin would probably call it brooding, or even sulking, but that’s because Merlin is ridiculous. Arthur is reflecting.
This knowledge that Merlin is in love with him, now that he’s clear-headed enough to think about it, doesn’t seem as significant anymore. It certainly explains a few things. His intense devotion to Arthur, for one. There has always been something about the way he spoke to him during those quiet conversations before battle, with nothing but faith and, he realises now, adoration, that made Arthur wonder just what was going on in that idiot’s head to make him say such words, give him such looks. It was love, apparently.
Through the hours of sitting at his desk thinking and half-heartedly reading some scrolls George delivered with him eventually bringing his lunch, he gets used to the revelation. Merlin is in love with him. It seems almost normal now. Merlin is in love with him.
He finds that it doesn’t actually change all that much. It’s not like Merlin’s a different person now that Arthur knows this, nor does he expect him to act any differently than he always has - that is, inappropriate in terms of the respect one ought to show the crown prince of Camelot, but never in a way that could actually make Arthur uncomfortable. All Merlin’s confession has really done is give Arthur a way to better understand Merlin, which he’s been searching for since he first met him. Maybe it really doesn’t have to be the big thing he felt it was at first. This love Merlin has for him is just… there, a new part of their dynamic that doesn’t truly have to change anything.
With the thought of that slowly settling in his mind and becoming accustomed to it, he finally manages to focus on the scrolls. The most boring hours of his life ensue. Being served dinner by George does not help.
“Deer roast, tonight, sire, caught today by Sir Gwaine I believe. Such a hearty meal should aid in your recovery, I hope.” He tucks a piece of cloth in Arthur’s collar and lays his knife exactly parallel to his fork, a stark contrast to how Merlin just all but throws everything on the table. “Enjoy.”
“Thank you,” Arthur says, a final realisation making itself known. He wants Merlin back. Right now, his manservant’s feelings for him are more irrelevant than ever - he only knows that George is the dullest man to have ever set foot in the five kingdoms and that he’s become far too dependent on Merlin for keeping him sane and, well, happy. Merlin makes him happy. If only he were here right now.
After dinner, he dismisses George and makes for Gaius’ rooms. He finds Merlin lying on his bed staring up the ceiling, probably sulking like Arthur wasn’t, and immediately regrets not knocking as Merlin scrambles to sit up.
He doesn’t speak for probably at least a full minute. Merlin raises his eyebrow.
“I’ve thought a lot today,” Arthur says. Merlin mumbles something and Arthur hates that it immediately makes him have to suppress a smile. “What was that?” he challenges.
“Nothing.”
“No, you were saying something. Tell me.”
Merlin rolls his eyes, giving in. “I said, that's inconsiderate. To risk dying again now you know how much I hate that.” There’s playfulness in his voice but he’s averting Arthur’s eyes. Think, Arthur, he tells himself, think. How to assure Merlin that it’s alright, they can talk about this, he doesn’t have to hide it?
“Look,” he says after a few seconds, “it’s - it’s alright. I’m not uncomfortable, or whatever you’ve been wracking your brain about. I’d like you to return to my service, if you want to. Nothing has to change between us now that I know, well. You know.” A smile breaks out on Merlin’s face, making Arthur feel truly happy for the first time today.
“Arthur, you know I’m more than happy to be your servant. I wouldn’t want it any other way.” Arthur grants him a small smile as he always does when Merlin says such things and extends an arm to Merlin to help him get up so he can start his usual evening duties in Arthur’s chambers.
“I can’t believe you only lasted a day without me,” Merlin says as they walk. Arthur shoves him a little.
“Merlin, I know you’re thick enough to draw wrong conclusions from just about everything, so for your information: just because I know there’s love underneath it does not give you the right to keep insulting me.” He panics briefly when Merlin doesn’t respond, maybe this is too sensitive a subject to joke about even though Merlin kind of did earlier, but then the teasing grin he’s been longing for is bestowed upon him.
“No, your astonishing prattishness gives me that right.”
“I can’t believe I missed you,” Arthur says under his breath, pretending to ignore the way Merlin beams at it.