Warm Bricks (3)

[casualtheatrics2]

< < Part 2

“Huh?” he said eloquently, looking up.

“Merlin! This is yours, too.” Morgana was holding out a manila envelope, large and imposing against her pale skin.

“Thanks,” Merlin took it cautiously.

Uther’s bold handwriting arced across the front of the sealed envelope. Merlin, it read, A very Merry Christmas to you. I found these for you. I hope you like them. Uther.

Merlin unfolded the top of the envelope, and slid his hand inside. His fingertips touched the edges of stiff, shiny paper, and he gripped them and pulled them out.

There were five photographs. The first one was of his Uncle Gaius, receiving an award at a symposium a number of years earlier. Gaius looked young, and his face was unlined with stress. Merlin smiled to see his uncle’s proud face again. The second one was one of Merlin and Gaius, a stiff, slightly posed portrait taken when Merlin went to live with his uncle. Merlin was scowling, and under his arm was tucked a blue rabbit.

The third photo was of Gaius and Hunith. Merlin’s breath caught when he saw it, and he had to blink for a moment, before he could take it in. Arms wrapped around each other, they were laughing at something in the background. That something was the subject of the fourth photograph – a young Merlin, peddling a little red car around the garden at Gaius’ house.

The fifth and final photograph made Merlin’s tears well up and spill, unchecked. It was a picture of Hunith, and a tiny Merlin, no more than three, cuddling on a bench in a park.

Merlin looked up at Uther. “Where did you find them?” he asked, incredulous and so grateful.

Uther smiled. “They were in your Social Services file. I’m sorry there aren’t more. I had to have a solicitor petition for even those few.”

Merlin sniffed away a tear and clutched the photos to his chest. “Thank you for these. They’re wonderful.”

Uther shook his head. “They’re just copies. They wouldn’t let me have the originals, but they’ll do for now.”

Merlin tucked the photographs back into the envelope and laid them carefully on the floor at his feet.

The rest of his presents were more self-explanatory. Morgana had bought him several sci-fi novels, and five smart photo frames. “For your pictures,” she explained, nodding at the envelope. Gwen and Lance had followed similar lines of thought for his presents, but included a year’s ticket to the Natural History Museum.

The presents were well-received. Uther had also given Merlin a number of useful, if boring items, such as a new pencil case and several jumpers. The laptop was unexpected, certainly not boring but most useful – Merlin stammered out his thanks at the bounty Uther was handing him.

Uther waved the thanks away. “Think nothing of it, Merlin,” he said, gruffly. “It’s the least you could expect.”

Merlin laughed this off, explaining that the most he could expect for his Christmas a mere three months ago was an extra blanket and soup from the shelter, if he was lucky. Uther frowned. “That was then. This is now,” and refused to hear or say another word on the subject.

The final present, at the bottom of the pile, was from Arthur.

It was a small, thin, square present, not very heavy, and it made no noise when Merlin gently shook it. He glanced up at Arthur, who was worrying his bottom lip between his teeth.

Merlin smiled. “Why do you look so nervous?”

Arthur tried to return Merlin’s smile. “I just hope you like it,” he said quietly.

Everyone was watching as Merlin peeled back the corner of the paper. It was a CD case, oh so familiar to Merlin that his eyes blurred with tears.

“It’s not the same one,” Arthur blurted hastily. “But it’s an original.”

Merlin ran his fingers over the CD case.

Arthur leant forward and touched his arm. “Is it OK?”

Merlin looked up, and blinked back tears. “Yes,” he said huskily. “It’s perfect.” He leant into Arthur and wrapped his arms around his neck in a tight hug. “Just perfect.”

Pulling back from the hug, Merlin rubbed a hand over his face. “I’ve not seen it for years.”

Morgana laughed. “Arthur looked a right idiot going into shops and asking for Janis Joplin’s ‘Pearl’.”

Arthur shifted uncomfortably. “Yeah, well. That day, you said…and I thought…and it wasn’t on Amazon…so…yeah.”

Merlin slid a hand over Arthur’s shoulder. “Thank you. For going to that much trouble. For me.”

Arthur grinned up at Merlin. “It was worth it.”

*

Later, when indigestion remedies had been consumed and the Queen’s Speech viewed, Merlin lay on his bed, CD player gently pouring the notes of Janis Joplin’s final work into his bedroom. It turned late without Merlin realising it - the first clue that midnight had arrived was when his watch beeped to mark the arrival of another day.

The quiet tap on his bedroom door had him sitting up from his sprawl across the bed. It was Arthur.

“Hello,” Merlin said with a small smile. “Visiting me in the middle of the night again, are you?”

Arthur chuckled, and padded across the room to flop on the bed next to Merlin. “I’ve not listened to this album. You don’t mind if I stay for a track or two, do you?”

Merlin shook his head and shifted over to make room for Arthur. The warmth of the other man pressed up against his side lulled Merlin into a comfortable doze. When he startled back to awareness, as the CD player clicked off, he realised two things. Number one: he hadn’t cried whilst listening to the Janis Joplin CD. Number two: he was wrapped in Arthur’s arms.

Arthur breathed deeply, eyes firmly closed, and his arms a loose circle around Merlin. Merlin vaguely contemplated trying to slither out of the embrace, and after a moment’s thought, decided to stay where he was.

After all, he justified to himself, I was listening to a CD that reminded me of my dead mum, Arthur came in here to comfort me, and we fell asleep. It was quite a reasonable explanation to the boy who should have been spending the holidays cuddling the bricks of Uther Pendragon’s lab, and instead was sleeping under Uther’s roof.

Also, Arthur smelt good. Merlin closed his eyes again and breathed in the scent of Arthur deeply. He was asleep in seconds.

*

When Merlin opened his eyes the next morning, he was no longer cradled in Arthur’s arms. It took him a moment to acknowledge the feeling coursing through him as disappointment, but he was then distracted by the bright light shining through the window.

Stumbling from his bed, he found the world blanketed in white powder. “It snowed!” he crowed, and hear something move behind him.

Arthur stretched and rolled off Merlin’s bed. “Sorry,” he said, gesturing to the space on the bed where he’d slept. “I must have drifted off.”

Merlin grinned, wide. “I’ll forgive you if we can have a snowball fight.”

Arthur looked serious for a moment, before allowing his face to crease up in glee. “Excellent idea.”

*

Dressed in warm clothing, Merlin scurried down the corridor to the kitchen. To his surprise, he found the rest of the Pendragon family dressed similarly.

“What?” he said intelligently.

Arthur rolled his eyes and glared at Morgana, before addressing Merlin. “Morgana overheard someone say something about a snowball fight, and has insisted everyone joins in.”

Uther looked up from his seat at the kitchen table. “I think it’s a ridiculous idea, but Morgana insisted.” He rolled his eyes.

Morgana skipped across the kitchen, pressing a kiss to Uther’s cheek before coming to stand in front of Merlin. “I hope you don’t mind?” she said. “I thought I could be on your team.” She looped her arm affectionately through Merlin’s.

Arthur straightened up. “I don’t think so,” he spluttered indignantly.

Morgana rolled her eyes. “I think so,” she disagreed. She glanced around the room. “Lance, you’re with us,” she said, commandingly. “Gwen, Dad, Arthur, you’re the other team.”

Gwen pulled on her gloves. “We’re doomed,” she said to Arthur, calmly.

Morgana cackled.

“Did you just… cackle?” Merlin asked her, feeling slightly afraid.

Morgana shrugged. “Perhaps,” she said, tossing her hair back over her shoulder. “On the other hand,” she said slyly, “perhaps I invoked an old magical spell that guarantees victory.”

Arthur, following them out of the kitchen, snorted derisively. “You’re a moron.”

Morgana arched an eyebrow at him. “A moron, am I?”

Arthur paled. “I didn’t mean that. I’m sorry.”

Morgana’s grin turned feral. “You will be.”

*

Morgana, it turned out, was insanely good at snowball fights. She claimed that it was all the cookery classes and tennis lessons Uther had made her attend as a child – Arthur swore blind that it was because she was a vicious, evil harpy with unnatural powers.

“You’re just jealous, because I beat you,” Morgana said smugly, as she skipped into the kitchen.

Arthur peeled his soggy, wet scarf away from his neck and winced. “Ouch.”

Merlin sniggered, and slithered past Arthur, heading for the kettle. Arthur stopped him by slapping Merlin around the face with his wet scarf.

Merlin gagged a little. “Wet wool! Arthur! That’s gross!”

“Don’t blame me,” Arthur retorted. “Blame your evil harpy teammate!”

Morgana’s face melted into the picture of innocence. “Are you talking about me?”

Arthur glared balefully at her. “I’m going to take a shower,” he announced and stomped out of the kitchen.

Gwen, Lancelot and Uther had already retired from the game much earlier, whilst Merlin and Morgana had continued to pelt Arthur with slushy snowballs. And by pelt, they meant Merlin pinning Arthur to the ground and Morgana shoving handfuls of snow down the back of his neck until Arthur cried for mercy.

Morgana had crowed in victory and proceeded to hurtle around the field on her long legs, until she tripped, face-planted in the snow, and proceeded to resume the snow torture on Arthur when he dared to laugh.

Merlin listened to the kettle boil, and the pipes creak as Arthur turned on his shower to full heat, and watched Morgana eat cake straight from the serving place with a fork, and decided that today was the best Boxing Day ever.

*

The rest of the day passed slowly, quietly, at a lazy pace. Merlin put his photographs into the new photo frames and read a new book. Uther sprawled in the lounge and read the Jilly Cooper novel Morgana had bought him for Christmas, whilst Arthur played video games on the restored Sega MegaDrive that was his gift from Uther.

Gwen puttered about the kitchen, preparing Boxing Day supper, even though both Uther and Lance had asked her to sit the hell down and relax.

By bedtime, the mulled wine had flown freely, Uther’s crown was hanging over one ear whilst his face was flushed puce with drunkenness, and Merlin felt, for the first time in a long time, that he was home.

*

On December 27th, Uther went back to work. Nothing was going to stop him from going back to work, not two feet of snow, not Gwen’s delicious cake, not even the promise of an excellent Claret over lunch with his children.

Before he went, he eyeballed his children, who were slumped around the kitchen table in various states of wakefulness. “I expect a father/children dinner on Thursday. Be here,” Uther commanded, apparently back to being his usual, irascible self. “Or be square,” he added mischievously.

Morgana, finally tired of picking on Arthur, made her apologies and disappeared off to her best friend’s house. Gwen and Lance went to visit her father, Tom, leaving Merlin and Arthur alone in the house together.

“What’s she like?” Merlin asked curiously, as he thrashed Arthur at Sonic the Hedgehog.

“Who?” Arthur was temporarily distracted, and Merlin saw an opportunity to seize victory. “Hey!”

“You snooze, you lose,” Merlin’s face was smug. “Morgana’s best friend.”

“Nimueh? Crazy hippie chick.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. She’s had these plait-slash-dreadlock things for ages now, and she only wears organic, fairly traded fabrics, so she wears this sort of sack-cloth stuff, dyed burgundy to make it less of an eyesore. She thinks tofu is the best creation in the world, and once asked my father to sponsor a butterfly farm so the butterflies could continue to have sweet, butterfly sex.”

Merlin, by this point, was nearly hysterical with laughter. “Morgana’s best friend is not like that!”

“She really is,” Arthur promised him. “Morgana only became all sensible and normal after she moved to London to go to uni. Look, I’ll show you.” He bounded up off the sofa and dragged Merlin down the hallway to the study. On the mahogany shelves there were a number of red-leather-bound photo albums. Arthur selected one, and pulled it down.

Sitting down on the floor, pulling Merlin next to him, Arthur flipped open the photo album to several pages in.

Morgana, with thick dark eyeliner rimming her eyes, was dressed in a tattered blue dress, with leaves and flowers woven into her hair. Next to her stood a shorter girl, with lighter hair, similarly attired.

“They called themselves druids,” Arthur informed Merlin gleefully, “and they used to dance on the lawn at sunrise for good luck.”

Merlin’s laughter echoed around the room, until tears were pouring down his face. “That’s the most brilliant thing I’ve ever heard,” he admitted, before collapsing again in laughter.

Arthur flipped a few more pages over. This time, Morgana had her face painted up with strange symbols. “They used to hold tribal dances,” he informed Merlin seriously, “where they pretended to sacrifice animals to the gods.”

Merlin, through his hysterical tears of laughter, questioned, “Only pretended?”

Arthur wrapped an arm around Merlin’s shoulder and hauled him up from where he was lying on the floor. “Well, of course,” he said, very seriously. “Cruelty to animals is against the druids’ religion. Didn’t you know that?”

This time, Arthur joined Merlin in uproarious guffaws at Morgana’s expense.

*

The subject of the father/children dinner that week was mainly the New Year’s Eve party on Saturday night. Uther explained to Merlin that it was a formal affair, with business colleagues and friends alike, and that formal dress, i.e. his tuxedo, would be required.

Merlin managed to contain his panic until Uther had retired to his office, but in the privacy of the kitchen, he let it all out.

“What am I going to do?” he wailed, clutching the front of Gwen’s blouse. “I can’t talk to people!”

Gwen patted Merlin’s back and tried to pry his fingers off. “Look, Arthur and Morgana will be there, and all you have to do is show up, say ‘Hi’ to a couple of people, and then…then…Merlin, you really need to let go.”

Merlin’s knuckles were white against the lavender of Gwen’s blouse and in his fists was also clenched some of her hair.

“You’re pulling my hair, Merlin, please let go.”

Merlin released Gwen, and yelled, “Thank you so much for your support, Gwen!”, before dashing upstairs to lock himself in his en-suite bathroom for the next three hours.

*

However much Merlin wanted New Year’s Eve to never arrive, of course it eventually did. The day was beautiful, crisp and clear, still with a light sprinkling of snow on the ground.

Lance spent most of the day shovelling snow from the paths, with Arthur’s help, whilst Morgana and Nimeuh sat in the lounge and talked of Sartre’s theories of Ego and Other. Gwen assisted the caterers in the kitchen and snapped at Merlin when he tried to find a biscuit mid-afternoon.

Merlin retired to the library with a book, which is where Morgana found him after evening had arrived.

“Merlin! Hurry up! You need to shower and dress!” Morgana whisked the book from his hands, and dragged Merlin to standing.

“What? Why? I’m dressed!” Merlin protested, as Morgana hauled him upstairs and shoved him into his bedroom.

“For tonight! I’ll be back in thirty minutes! Shower! Brush your hair! Brush your teeth!” Morgana yelled, as she dashed down the corridor to her own room, before slamming her door behind her.

Merlin blinked and glanced at his watch. SHIT. 6.20pm. The party started in a meagre forty minutes. No time to fake illness now.

Arthur appeared at the top of the stairs. He took one look at Merlin’s shell-shocked face and said sympathetically, “Morgana get to you? It’s OK. She’ll stop if you tell her she’s smudged her nail varnish.”

From Morgana’s door came a shriek. “I heard that, you prat!”

Arthur grinned mischievously, and Merlin couldn’t help but return the smile.

“Look, don’t worry about tonight,” Arthur said, heading towards his room. “Stick with me. I’ll protect you.”

Merlin, reassured, went to shower.

*

After exactly twenty-nine minutes and twelve seconds (Merlin counted), Morgana appeared in his doorway. “Knock knock!” she trilled, and swept into the room.

“Woah.” Merlin’s eyes widened. “Look at you.”

“Is it alright?” Morgana asked, faux-casually.

“You look amazing,” Merlin replied, shifting uncomfortably in his new shoes.

Morgana swirled the green velvet skirt around her feet and shrugged. “I love this dress. But I always think it looks a bit medieval princess.”

“It works,” Merlin said, with a big grin. “Er, can you…?” He held up his flapping shirt cuffs and a small black box.

Morgana helped Merlin with the tying of his bowtie and the fixing of his cufflinks, before straightening the handkerchief in his pocket. “You look gorgeous,” she told him, smoothing down his hair with one hand.

Merlin blushed. “I’ve never worn a tux before.”

Morgana laughed. “Well, it suits you.”

She linked her arm through his and led him out onto the landing. Gwen was waiting, dressed neatly in a pale blue silk dress, whilst Lance stood still and watchful at her side. Arthur was leaning on the stairpost, chin in hand. He caught sight of Merlin and his elbow slipped from the post. “Ow! Wow! Merlin!”

Merlin chuckled. “Thanks.”

Gwen pressed a kiss to Merlin’s cheek. “You look very handsome. Smile nicely and you’ll do us all proud.”

Merlin mumbled something about ‘trying his best’ and then made his way downstairs, Morgana on his arm. As they entered the ballroom, Morgana let go of Merlin and peeled away from the group, to go and chat up one of Uther’s office minions called Perry.

Merlin panicked, before turning to find Arthur at his elbow.

“Want a drink?” Arthur asked, calmly.

Merlin nodded furiously.

“Come on then,” Arthur said, clasping Merlin’s shoulder in his broad hand, and guiding him towards the bar.

Merlin tried not to think about the warmth of Arthur’s fingers sliding down through the jacket and onto his skin, where it pooled affectionately. Arthur tried not to think about the fine tremor he could feel passing through Merlin and how it would stop if he pulled the boy into his arms for a hug.

At the bar, Merlin ordered a Coke, whilst Arthur picked something vaguely alcoholic with an odd name. Sipping their drinks in the corner, Merlin shuddered as he watched Uther take a circuit of the room, greeting people enthusiastically, slapping people on the back and shaking their hands warmly.

“What’s wrong?” Arthur asked.

“I’m going to have to talk to people,” Merlin blurted out.

Arthur chuckled. “Actually, with most of these people, they’ll talk to you. All you have to do is nod in the appropriate places.”

Merlin nudged him with a pointed elbow. “Is that supposed to make me feel better?”

Arthur slung an arm around his shoulders. “Yeah, it was,” he grinned. “Did it work?”

Merlin snorted. “Not really.”

His eyes met Arthur’s for a brief second in a moment of mindless communication, before slithering away from each other. But it was too late. Merlin’s glance had already told Arthur that the sight of Arthur’s broad shoulder in the crisp white shirt made him want to back Arthur up to the bar and kiss his mouth until it was bruised and swollen. Arthur’s glance had already told Merlin that the sight of Merlin’s skinny frame swathed in poorly-fitting formal dress made Arthur want to unbutton his shirt, peel it away from Merlin’s thin frame and kiss his way down his chest to his nipples.

A glance could say so much. But then so could Morgana, who appeared at Merlin’s side and said, “Oi! Merlin. Dance with me. Come on!” and dragged him away from Arthur’s warm arm.

*

Once Merlin had awkwardly propelled both Morgana and Gwen around the dance floor twice each, he found his hasty retreat blocked by Uther, who smiled at him warmly. “Merlin! Just the man I was looking for.” Uther’s hand came down on Merlin’s shoulder in the same place Arthur’s had been, but whilst Arthur’s hand was disturbing, arousing even, Uther’s was comfort, control, guidance.

A tall, portly man with a sparse white beard was stood waiting on one side of the room. By his side was a thin, skinny man with thick glasses and a slight frown of impatience. As they made their way over to him, Uther murmured to Merlin, “This won’t take a minute. Just be yourself.”

Merlin gulped.

The pair reached the odd couple at the side of the room, and Uther introduced them. “Geoffrey, John, this is Merlin Emrys. He is Gaius Freeman’s nephew.”

The portly man leant forward and surveyed Merlin with a severe eye. “You must have been Hunith’s boy.”

Merlin nodded, too afraid to speak. Who were these men? How did they know that? What did they want? He looked to Uther in confusion and fright, expecting Uther to explain that they were some distant relatives and Merlin would be leaving with them, because Uther no longer wanted Merlin under his roof.

Uther smiled. “Geoffrey here was a very good friend of your Uncle Gaius’s at university.”

The portly man – Geoffrey – nodded. “Gaius was quite a maverick in our day,” he said, misty-eyed at the memory. “But once Hunith had her son – you, of course – he calmed down considerably. Used to beam with pride when anyone asked about you.”

Merlin smiled, touched at the memory of Gaius’ pride.

The thin man – John – added, “Of course, he was always boasting about his nephew, how clever you were, how funny, how charming. Even after you went to live with him, he radiated pride, as if he was your own father.”

Merlin felt a lump rise in his throat. “Well, he was as good as,” he croaked out.

Both men smiled at him. “He’d be proud to see you today,” John added.

Unable to do more than nod and smile broadly, Merlin was excused by Uther, finally, and fled from the presence of the two men who had agitated his thoughts.

On the other side of the room, he saw Morgana flirt obviously and unsubtly with a nervous young man, who was blushing furiously at her brazen smile. Ten feet from her, Arthur was smiling far more subtly with the daughter of one of his father’s colleagues, but he glanced up, saw Merlin’s startled face and made his excuses, kissing her cheek as he departed, heading straight for Merlin.

“Alright?” Arthur said, arriving before Merlin. “Want to get out of here for a bit?”

Merlin glanced around the room. “Are we allowed to?” he asked cautiously.

Arthur laughed. “Course we are! Come on. I’ve got a new game I want to try out on my MegaDrive.”

He slung an arm around Merlin’s shoulders, and together, they strode from the room.

*

In the games room, Merlin and Arthur whiled away the evening, ignoring the noises of party reverberating through the walls of the Pendragon manor and entertaining themselves instead. At some point, Arthur sneaked out and came back with a bottle of champagne and a large platter of food. Sprawled across the sofa, shoes toed off and bowties undone, the two men drank, ate and thrashed each other at retro video games.

Suddenly, a hush descended on the house and Uther’s voice could be heard declaring, “Ladies and gentlemen, in five minutes, the new year will be upon us…”

Merlin grinned at Arthur and said, “Do we need to go back through?”

Arthur shook his head. “Nah. Dad’s just declaiming as he does every year. It’ll be over in a minute.”

The minutes passed, Uther’s voice still ringing in the background, before Merlin, unable to bear the silence, blurted out, “Is it still good luck to kiss someone at midnight?” He cursed himself inwardly the moment the words were out of his mouth, knowing the champagne was to blame, but unable to be truly sorry for asking,

Arthur’s eyes darkened with desire. “Yes, very good luck,” he murmured and sat up straighter on the sofa.

Uther’s voice declared, “So, ladies and gentlemen! Ten! Nine!”

Arthur reached for Merlin, wrapping a hand around Merlin’s upper arm and drawing him towards him.

“Six! Five!”

“Best New Year’s ever,” Arthur whispered, and as Uther shouted, “ONE! HAPPY NEW YEAR!”, he pressed his lips to Merlin.

At the warm but unfamiliar pressure, Merlin gasped, and felt the soft swipe of Arthur’s tongue across his lower lip. Unbidden, his hands rose up to tangle in Arthur’s soft hair, and he pulled himself closer to Arthur.

Arthur’s lips rubbed against Merlin’s, coaxing and teasing in equal measure. Merlin silenced the panicked voice in his head and imitated Arthur’s actions to return the kiss.

At the first slide of Merlin’s tongue against his own, Arthur moaned, and wrapped an arm around Merlin’s waist to draw him in to his body. “Oh, God, Merlin, God,” Arthur whispered, breaking the kiss for a moment.

Merlin whimpered and chased after Arthur’s lips. “Please, Arthur, please…”

Arthur stroked his fingers across Merlin’s thin back, and joined their mouths together again. “You’re gorgeous,” he whispered when they finally pulled apart for breath. “Gorgeous,” he repeated, and licked back into Merlin’s mouth to demonstrate just how gorgeous Arthur thought Merlin was.

Merlin pressed harder against Arthur’s torso, and coiled his arms around Arthur’s neck. “Don’t stop kissing me,” he mumbled into Arthur’s throat, and whined in pleasure as Arthur gently bit down on his ear lobe.

“I can’t,” Arthur replied, wild-eyed and with tousled hair. “I can’t stop,” he said again, pressing kiss after kiss to any inch of Merlin’s exposed skin. “Oh, Merlin, Merlin.”

“Arthur,” Merlin mimicked, and lifted his mouth for more of Arthur’s kisses.

*

Merlin shifted on the sofa, feeling kinks in his back and neck. He paused when he realised there was a warm body beneath him. Opening his eyes slowly, he looked into the wide open eyes of Arthur.

“Morning,” Merlin croaked. Arthur murmured a response.

Merlin couldn’t work out why his mouth felt dry, sore, rough, until the memories of last night dripped back into his brain. He grinned at Arthur wildly and said, “Last night! Awesome, yeah? Especially…” he trailed off shyly.

It took him a second to realise that Arthur was not smiling, or replying, but struggling to sit up with his lips pressed firmly together. Shifting back, Merlin waited for Arthur to be upright, before cupping the older man’s face with one hand. “Arthur?”

Arthur flinched from the touch and walked from the room.

Horror broke over Merlin’s head and trickled like ice water down the back of his neck. He knew that Arthur had drunk more than usual last night, but he had put the amorous mood down to a lowering of inhibitions. He’d been a more than willing participant, but this morning, the Arthur of last night, who’d pressed such sweet words and affection into Merlin’s skin with his lips, was gone. And Merlin, Merlin who was an imposter in this house, in this borrowed home, had sent that Arthur away, with his need and his stupid, teenage crush.

How angry would Uther be when he realised Merlin had behaved so shamelessly with his precious son? How disappointed would Gwen be when she saw Merlin had taken a good man and made him bitter and angry? How enraged would Morgana be at Merlin’s audacity? He was the cuckoo in the nest, and look at what he’d done. He’d ruined all their Christmas plans, he’d ruined their New Year’s Eve party, he was taking up space in the mansion, using food and hot water he’d never be able to pay for.

It took Merlin less than a second to make a decision, and he slunk up the stairs to his bedroom. He took only what he could carry: the photos, a book or two, a few items from his new wardrobe.

He could barely believe his luck when he realised he could leave by the front door and no-one would stop him: they were all still in bed, nursing hangovers. It snicked close quietly behind him, and he trudged down the garden path towards the gate.

A lump rose in his throat as he glanced back at the mansion. For a few weeks, it had felt like home. Like a place where Merlin could belong.

The lane was icy from the snowfall earlier that week, and Merlin stepped carefully along the verge, trying very hard not to fall over. When he reached the main road, the pavements were already gritted and the roads clear. The bus stop was only a few minutes’ walk away, and then Merlin would be gone from the Pendragons’ lives forever.

The thought tore sobs from his throat, and Merlin raised a hand to find his cheek wet with tears. He paused to rummage in his pocket for a tissue and coming up empty, he dragged the sleeve of his sweatshirt across his eyes. The time for tears was past. If two months in the Pendragon household had turned him soft after two years of living on the streets, then Merlin would be thrown to the wolves.

He reached the bus-stop, and ran an eye over the timetable. There should be a bus in about twenty minutes.

When forty minutes had rolled by, Merlin glanced at the timetable again. This time he read the notice next to the timetable: No buses will run on January 1st. Apologies for the inconvenience.

With a sigh, Merlin hefted his bag onto his shoulder and began to walk towards town. A few minutes later, a car sped along the road, passing Merlin and sending a shower of melting ice into the air as the car screeched to a halt. It reversed up, and stopped next to Merlin, who was trying to shake the ice from his hair.

Arthur leapt from the passenger seat and ran to Merlin, grabbing him by the shoulders. “Where the hell are you going?” he yelled, and pressed Merlin’s head against his shoulder. “Oh, Merlin.”

Merlin resisted for a moment, before giving in and sobbing to Arthur’s warm, broad chest. “Why did you leave?” he choked to Arthur’s sternum.

Arthur rested his cheek on Merlin’s head. “I have the most toxic morning breath. I wanted to just clean my teeth before I kissed you again.”

“I thought it was me. You regretted it or something.”

“Oh Merlin! You didn’t really think I regretted it?”

Merlin knew it sounded stupid, but he pressed his lips together and nodded anyway. May as well show how neurotic he was upfront, so that Arthur could still run if he wanted to.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” Arthur murmured into Merlin’s hair, and tilted the younger man’s face to press a warm kiss to his mouth. “Come on, let’s go home. Gwen’s making porridge.”

“I hate porridge,” Merlin replied, but he smiled at the kiss and pressed his fingertips to his mouth.

Arthur laughed. “I bet she’ll make you eggs instead. She loves you.”

In the car, as Arthur carefully turned it around to head back home, Merlin blurted out, “What happens when they don’t want me anymore?”

Arthur looked across at Merlin incredulously. “What on Earth are you talking about?”

Merlin sighed. “I’m a novelty now, the homeless boy from the streets, being dressed up in a posh tuxedo and paraded as a success story. But what happens when Uther gets fed up having me sponge off him? When Gwen gets tired of waking me for school? When I’m getting in the way?” When you no longer want me.

Arthur took Merlin’s cold hand and squeezed it. “Merlin, we’re in this for the long haul. Dad, Gwen, Morgana… me. We all care about you, and want you to be safe. Dad doesn’t take any old homeless kid in. He doesn’t do charity, and especially not random acts of kindness. He would never have brought you home in the first place if he wasn’t making up his mind to keep you. And besides, I thought Morgana and I already told you. If Dad won’t take care of you, Gwen will. If she won’t, Morgana and I will. You’re not going to be tossed back onto the streets.”

Merlin scrubbed at his eyes with his sleeve again. “It’s just…”

“I know.”

They sat in silence for the remainder of the journey, and when they arrived back at the house, Gwen enfolded Merlin against her bosom. “Come here,” she said, and stroked his hair as he clutched at her. “Silly boy,” she said softly.

*

Part 4 > >