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Merlin slammed himself against the corner of the fence one last time, testing it for any obvious weakness. It stayed put, but that was little comfort since the horses that kept breaking the fence weighed about ten times more than he did. They could do significantly more damage to the wood post.
There wasn’t anything else Merlin could do about that right now, though, so he called it a day and made the long trudge back to the cluster of buildings at the heart of the ranch.
Night was already falling, the sun casting its dying spell over the sky. The colors breathed new life into Merlin, and he hummed to himself as the pink gave way to yellow and then orange. The horizon grew hazy and indistinct, and he imagined riding off towards it on his favorite horse, leaving everything and everyone he knew behind.
Something in his chest twinged at that last thought. There were people he would miss. One person in particular.
As he approached the barn, Merlin could hear that the other ranch hands had already gathered. Someone was warming up the fiddle, but the sound was nearly drowned out by the voices talking about their days and sharing their intentions for the evening.
Merlin reached the doorway and leaned against the jamb, taking in the scene. Lance was on the fiddle, Elyan the guitar, and Gwaine was plucking idly at the mandolin. Leon was at the piano, but he was facing out and holding the bass between his legs. Percy was sitting against the far wall, a harmonica in one hand.
Gwen was there, too, perched near Lance and singing under her breath.
“About time,” Leon said when he spotted Merlin.
“You try fixing all the fences by yourself, then.”
“All the fences?” Leon asked.
Merlin shrugged and picked up the banjo propped up near the door. He looked around again, but there were no free chairs, and the piano bench wasn’t big enough for two. Merlin pulled fingerpicks out of his pocket and slipped them on his fingertips as he crossed the barn.
Percy watched him approach, his fingers tapping on the metal of the harmonica. He said nothing as Merlin took up a seat on his knee, struck a chord, and started up a song.
It was one of their usuals, guaranteed to pull a smile from even the more stoic among them.
Shadows fell long across the barn as the sun continued to set and give way to proper night. As they played, Percy leaned back against the wall, and Merlin leaned back into him. He could feel Percy’s chest rising and falling against him, could hear Percy’s quiet humming loud and clear.
The first song bled into another, and then another, and they passed around whiskey and cigarettes. Percy’s hand came to settle on Merlin’s back, helping to hold him up. He played his harmonica with the other hand, his arm brushing Merlin’s as he ran the instrument over his mouth.
They carried on until, as he always did, their boss came to yell at them. Arthur told them to go to bed, and didn’t they all know what time it was, making a ruckus like this in the middle of the night. He took the whiskey with him when he left, and no one much wanted to keep playing after that.
Gwen retired first, giving everyone a sweet smile on her way out. Lance followed dutifully, taking the fiddle with him and playing a lullaby into the night. Leon put away the bass and tipped his hat at the group before leaving. Elyan hung around, strumming idly as he swayed in his seat, until he yawned and finally went to give into sleep. That left Gwaine, who tossed his cigarettes to Merlin before going. He closed the barn door behind him, which Merlin smirked at.
Percy nuzzled the back of Merlin’s neck, and Merlin closed his eyes, breathing in the night air.
“Play me something,” Percy said.
It meant risking Arthur coming back to shout some more, but Merlin didn’t mind. He shifted on Percy’s leg, getting more comfortable, and picked at his banjo.
It wasn’t a song anyone else knew to play along. It wasn’t anything Merlin had heard anywhere before. It was entirely his, something he’d been working on in quiet moments away from the others.
“What’s a boy to do?” he sang. “Hit the road with a dollar or two. Haunted by what he knows he can’t do. Gets it off his chest. ‘Cause there ain’t no glory in the west.”
His voice trailed off as he played, and he let the music fill the barn on its own.
When the song came to its end, Merlin closed his eyes, letting the silence ring in his ears.
“You been thinking about leaving again?” Percy asked.
“Sometimes,” Merlin admitted. He looked over his shoulder. “I’d take you with me.”
Percy’s lips lifted in a smile, and Merlin leaned in for a kiss.
Many nights on the ranch started or ended like this, kisses leading to more or fading into the night. Tonight, Percy’s kiss soothed the itch in Merlin’s soul to move, to leave, to run. Tonight, Merlin set down his banjo and led Percy to their room, where they curled up in Percy’s bed even though it was the smaller of the two. Tonight, Percy hummed Merlin to sleep with the tune of his own song. Tonight, Merlin would stay.