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Arthur woke up on soft, warm sheets, under a thick blanket, from the annoying sunlight.
It wasn't unusual. He'd spent his entire life, apart from hunting or battles, sleeping on a high-quality bed. And Merlin often opened the curtains on purpose, enjoying the sight of him tossing and turning, trying to catch a few more minutes of sleep.
It still was surprising - to wake up again.
The world around him was strange and amazing, but being alive again was the most... surreal, as Merlin called it. He remembered the pain, the darkness, and the cold that reminded of encounter with the dorocha. He remembered what it was like to lose touch with reality.
And now he's here again. Alive, warm, and conscious.
Merlin was there - again. Alive, warm, unconscious. Arthur glanced at the clock - a simple, wooden clock, the kind he was familiar with. Apparently, Merlin also preferred it to the modern electronic clock - and, yes, someone should get up already if he doesn't want to pack in a hurry.
He looked at Merlin again. His servant. His... best friend. His so many things, if they ever got around to talking about it. The man who made choices in his favor every day, even if it might be his last. Who spent all his power making sure he stayed alive. Making sure Camelot stood.
Of course, at the same time, Arthur remembered Merlin shining a spotlight in his face or making noise with the dishes, but it seemed so insignificant now that they were face to face again and no one was on the verge of death. On the contrary, they had a long life ahead of them.
Arthur climbed out of bed - with great difficulty; Merlin was very used to these "king"-size beds, and he stretched out like a starfish - and headed for the bathroom. After all, a new life had to be started right.
"You brought me breakfast in bed."
He shrugged, taking another sip of... coffee. There were different names he was trying to learn and appreciate, but there were too many, so he was sticking with just "coffee" for now. Merlin didn't seem displeased with his drink, which Arthur considered a success.
"How did you even do that?"
"I'm not an idiot"
Merlin snorted, but returned to his omelette. It was the simplest thing Arthur could do without fear of messing it up, both because of the strangeness of the kitchen and because of his lack of skill. And the ingredients were pitifully scarce. Apparently, Merlin didn't have any farmers to deliver his provisions at dawn.
"Wait, how did you even... how did you even figure out how to turn on the gas cooker?"
"You turned this thing on yesterday to boil water."
"And you didn't think it was some kind of magic?"
"Well, I'm not a sorcerer, am I?"
Arthur shrugged his shoulders - just because he knew that Merlin was annoyed by his calmness. In fact, he didn't really understand the reason for his calmness himself. Things around him were nothing like what he knew, but... Merlin was here. Merlin knew what to do. Merlin would explain it to him if he asked - with sarcasm, bitterness, and an inappropriate attitude, but he would explain it.
Hm. And how inappropriate would Merlin's audacity be in the current circumstances? Yes, Arthur was still his king, but the emphasis was more on his than on king. Camelot no longer existed - he was certain of this, based on the lack of reaction from the people on the street when he appeared - and Merlin was not a servant of anyone else. It was more of a assumption, but Arthur was quite certain of it. After all, Merlin had said that-
"Do you think you can stay here alone until evening?" Merlin finally put his empty plate in the sink and went to comb his hair, which was still a mess despite the abundance of bottles in the bathroom. His voice was filled with concern. "I can take sick leave, but it's only for a couple of days... I can't quit my job so abruptly, I still have notice period, and kids... it would be cruel to them."
Merlin was more of a mumbler than a talker, addressing no one in particular. Arthur was beginning to get used to this habit of his, probably a consequence of long period of solitude. He had been in this world for three days, but only three times had someone written to Merlin on this little electric-and-not-magical box. It was a great contrast to the time when all the knights and servants wanted to spend at least a little time with him.
Arthur thought about how many people Merlin must have lost over the years. How many people he had lost once because of Arthur. More than anything, he didn't want to repeat history. Not only because of the phantom pain, nightmares, and the image of him dying in the arms of the man he had cherished in his heart for so many years, but because he hadn't been the last one to die. Merlin had survived. Merlin had been left alone.
Arthur wasn't going to let that happen again.
"Merlin, I know you're used to to fuss like a hen with one chick around me," - "more like a hamster," - "but I'm perfectly capable of surviving on my own for a few hours in a closed room with food and water."
Merlin looked at him skeptically, but didn't have much time to argue. Cursing, he hastily tied his tie and picked up his bag from the chair. Arthur was already waiting for him at the door, holding out an umbrella and gloves. Although "foggy Albion" was only a metaphor from legends, the streets were indeed chilly this time of year.
"I'll be back soon, don't miss me, and, i beg, don't die in my absence."
Arthur didn't have time to respond - even to raise an eyebrow in challenge - because Merlin bent down to pick up the keys and brushed his lips against Arthur's cheek. Unconsciously, perhaps. He didn't look like a man who had just kissed for the first time his a-a-h king, yeah, let's stick with king, because right now Arthur's thought processes had come to a halt.
From the other side of the door, there was the sound of a lock being locked, followed by footsteps on the stairs. Because, of course, Merlin would rather walk down from the fifth floor than use the benefits of civilization.
Absently rubbing his cheek, Arthur looked at the clock in the hallway. He had about ten hours before Merlin returned. That seemed like a long time, considering he had no reports to file or training sessions to conduct.
Hm, it seems Merlin had his own library...
Arthur hadn't had a chance to explore his sorcerer's home library, as he was puzzled by the dismal state of his bookcase. While the books were safely tucked away behind a glass door, the rest of the bookcase was covered in a thick layer of dust that Arthur could have signed his name on. Even after a thousand years, Merlin remained a poor servant.
Modern people had strange priorities. Arthur found about nine rags in the house, half of which were made of different materials, and three of which were so strange that he would have suspected magic if Merlin hadn't responded in an extremely sarcastic manner on the second day, stating that magic had long since disappeared and that he was the last remnant of it, with science having consumed the rest.
On the thin metal-and-electric plate that Merlin had left him, there was access to a modern... world library. Merlin had put a parental control on the device, as if Arthur were a child who couldn't handle violent things, but he haven't found a way to remove it. Therefore, he didn't learn what the Hammer of the Witches was, although he gained a rough understanding of why the magical kin had not survived to the present day.
It was very sad. It wasn't that Arthur wanted the sorcerers to take over the world, but... He knew how terrible it could be to be alone. He still couldn't forgive himself for what had happened to Morgana.
But that was in the past. Everything was in the past. If he thought about it now, he'd start thinking about his mother, his knights, his wife. It was all in the past. There was no point in digging at a wound that might get infected, and he'd already caused Merlin enough trouble.
So Arthur closed the magic search tab and opened a new one, trying to understand the strange words written on the weird "cleaning products" container.
"I'm home! Please tell me you didn't get gas poisoning in my absence."
"You showed me how to open the window the first day. I'm not stupid."
"That doesn't alleviate my concerns about you accidentally setting fire to the apartment, thank you."
Merlin shuffled barefoot into the living room, dropping his bag and taking off his outwear as he went. Arthur returned to his book because he didn't want to look at the too-white, too-tight shirt that was wrinkled around the waist - how did people even come up with that style? Did they have so little fabric that they had to cut the shirts? It didn't even look comfortable. It was constricting. Arthur didn't even want to think about wearing that kind of clothing.
...Although, given that it looked good on Merlin, it would look good on him too. Maybe even better. Definitely better. He should look for them tomorrow, when Merlin leaves again.
"Did you... Did you dust?"
"Your shelves were in a terrible state. And by the way, I cleaned all your many little demon figurines. They had a huge layer of dust on them. Don't thank me"
"Those are cartoon characters, not demons. And you're telling me you wiped them all off? Took them off the shelf, wiped them, and put them back?"
"I was bored"
He couldn't describe the sorcerer's expression, but it was quite amusing. Merlin adjusted his gray T-shirt, which featured a lizard with scales but didn't resemble a salamander. Was this a modern representation of a dragon? It somewhat resembled the Great Dragon...
"I can't believe it. Arthur Pendragon, Once and Future King. Turning into a househusband out of boredom"
It sounded offensive. It suppose to be offensive, but...
"You call me the master of this house? Doesn't it belong to you? Although, as your king, I will gladly accept this humble gift..."
A pillow flew at him, familiar and expected. Arthur dodged, not surprising. Merlin smiled, crookedly, as if he was trying to keep frowning but couldn't bring himself to stop. This was also familiar. Familiar as nothing in this new world.
Arthur couldn't help but smile back.
"Good night, Arthur"
Merlin was lying on his stomach, looking at him, partially buried in a pillow. He looked very soft. Arthur couldn't help but think about the nights when he could have had Merlin in his bed, slightly tired but content. Enjoying his company. Smiling with obscure, almost painful tenderness, as if he still couldn't believe it.
"Good night, Merlin."
The room was getting warmer, perhaps because he'd moved a little closer, or perhaps because Merlin was casting a spell - his eyes were only slightly lighter, but he might have learned to control them in the years they'd spent apart - or perhaps it was just his perception, because near Merlin everything was a little more bearable, including the coolness of the approaching autumn.
"I'll order a second bed soon, okay? I have a friend at work who can... she can make a sketch for the bedroom. We'll renovate my office, and you can... you can move in within a few months... Arthur, stop!"
Arthur didn't stop, taking advantage of the fact that the sleep clothes were just as loose as they used to be. Merlin was still lanky and soft to the touch. He wanted to know if he still had the same birthmarks. He could find out. Later.
"I'm fine with everything. At least you don't snore like some of the knights."
Merlin snorted, but didn't flinch when Arthur tentatively put his arms around him. His hand would be stiff in the morning, but it wouldn't be a big sacrifice.
"Are you finally done mumbling about how a prince shouldn't share a bedroom with a servant?"
Arthur thought again about all the missed opportunities. All the unspoken words. How, without realizing it, he had stopped sending Merlin to the stocks, unless he was particularly infuriating, after his father's death. He was still Merlin's king, and Merlin was still his servant, but in the end...
Arthur shrugged. "I want it"
Merlin chuckled - a little brittle, disbelieving, like the times he'd tried to steer the conversation away from magic. Like the times he'd tried not to cry for people who were forbidden to cry for.
"Part of me wants to go to the couch just on principle, now that you've said it."
"Oh, well, what a pity," Arthur chuckled louder, breaking the atmosphere, distracting Merlin, who pinched his side, "I'm sure I'm still physically stronger than you."
He could see that Merlin had a retort on the tip of his tongue - and that it was well past curfew if he wanted to get a good night's sleep before work. So he leaned over and brushed his lips against Merlin's cheek, not like he had done earlier in the day, but deliberately and openly, and then settled back on the pillow with his eyes closed.
"Go to sleep, you jerk. You'll be nodding off in front of the kids tomorrow."
Merlin made a sound that was halfway between a squeak and a grunt, but didn't say anything else. Arthur felt a leg thrown over him and suppressed a grin.