The Light Of Hidden Things (part 2)
May. 13th, 2010 11:21 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
casualtheatrics2--
Part One here...
---
Arthur wakes up the next morning, with an armful of Merlin. He’s warm against Arthur’s side, pressing against him, pliable and relaxed. His arms are around Arthur’s chest, his nose buried against Arthur’s collarbone. His feet are wrapped around Arthur’s calf, the arch of his foot pressing against Arthur’s shinbone.
It’s early still, probably six am, and the light filtering though the curtains is weak and watery. It laps over Merlin’s pale skin, making his skin glow. Outside, a bird singing a warbling single note into the morning air. It’s quiet, no cars, just the gentle rush of air as Arthur and Merlin breathe in and out in sync.
Merlin shifts closer to Arthur, murmuring something in his sleep. Arthur brushes his lips over the top of Merlin’s head, bringing a hand up to cup the back of Merlin’s head.
Arthur tries very carefully not to shift, or move too much in the bed. Lying there with Merlin draped across him is something that Arthur needs to memorise every second of, and he’s adverse to it ending abruptly.
Unfortunately, Will doesn’t understand the magnitude of the situation, and bursts into Arthur’s room, without knocking.
“Arthur!”
“Jesus, Will!” Arthur hastily drops his hand from the back of Merlin’s head, and tries to sit up. He’s forgotten Merlin’s draped over him, and he dislodges the dark-haired head from his chest.
“Arthur!” Merlin whines, as his head drops from Arthur’s airborne shoulder onto the pillow below.
Will gapes. “What the….?” His face abruptly rearranges itself from shock to neutral. “Sorry, I didn’t realise…”
Arthur waves it away. “No, it’s OK. Not what you think. Merlin couldn’t sleep last night, so I suggested he come down here and watch a movie with me. I guess we fell asleep.” The lie trips easily off his tongue, and Arthur feels a pang of relief that he’s going to be able to lie to Will.
Merlin smiles gratefully up at Arthur from the pillow.
Will clears his throat. “Right, well, I came to see if you knew where Merlin was, because he didn’t come home last night, but I see now that he did, and you do.”
Arthur makes a noise of agreement. “So can I go back to sleep now?”
“Er, yeah.” Will backs out of the room and closes the door.
Arthur lies back down, and Merlin snuggles back into him, the way they had been entwined before Will interrupted.
“Sorry,” Arthur says. “I didn’t realise….”
“It’s OK,” Merlin smiles, and Arthur feels it swipe across his skin. “No harm done. Good lie, by the way.”
Arthur laughs. He closes his eyes, and feels Merlin shift against him.
Arthur thinks that this might be heaven.
--
Arthur’s colleagues are fine about him missing the last day of the merger, but Vivian gets upset when Arthur tries to cry off.
“But, you promised!” she wails into the phone, and Arthur tries very hard not to sigh.
“Vivian, I’m sorry, but Merlin’s concussion is bad and I can’t leave him.” Arthur’s getting the hang of this lying thing. He’s sort of proud.
There’s a rustle on the other end of the phone, and Uther’s voice echoes down the line. “Arthur?”
“Father.”
“Bring Merlin with you. Vivian’s been looking forward to this visit all week, and I’ll not have you disappointing her.”
Arthur tries VERY hard not to sigh. “OK, Father,” he replies. “See you tomorrow morning.”
Arthur slips the phone back into the hook and goes to tell Merlin that the weekend is going to be spent in his father’s house.
--
Lunch is a slightly strained affair. Arthur and Merlin arrive late, because the traffic was terrible, and Uther refuses to believe that it was accidental. Morgana is supposed to be there, but Leon managed to destroy the files of their latest project, deadline Monday, and there’s no way Morgana’s leaving her office this weekend. Even Gwen’s annoyed with her.
Over dessert, though, Vivian smiles, takes Uther’s hand and tells Arthur that they have something to tell him.
Arthur freezes, fork halfway to his mouth. “Oh?” he manages, before dropping the fork back onto his plate.
“I’m pregnant!” Vivian’s complete joy at the news wipes out any anxiety or disgust Arthur thinks he ought to feel.
“Congratulations!” he manages warmly, and rounds the table to hug his father and kiss Vivian on the cheek. “Fantastic news. When are you due?”
“Late April,” she smiles, and her face glows with pride and happiness and a number of other emotions that Arthur won’t examine now.
“Motherhood will suit you,” Arthur smiles at Vivian, and smiles at his father.
Merlin is sat quietly beside Arthur, barely speaking, but he looks up and smiles at Vivian once the table goes quiet.
“Congratulations,” he murmurs softly, and Vivian beams with delight.
“Arthur’s going to be the most wonderful big brother!”
The rest of lunch is slightly awkward, but Vivian’s all-encompassing joy at being able to share her news smoothes over any cracks that may appear.
--
After lunch, Vivian goes for a lie-down and Uther wants to have a smoke of his pipe in peace (Uther doesn’t smoke, but that’s how he refers to his post-lunch, reading-the-paper time, as his father did and his father before him.)
Arthur and Merlin go for a walk in the grounds of Uther’s mansion.
“Are you OK?”
Arthur glances over at Merlin. “Yeah, fine,” he replies, before kicking at the ground with his toe.
“It’s just…if my father married a step-mother my own age and she then announced her pregnancy, I’d feel a bit weird.”
“Ah, well, Merlin. That’s because you’re an idiot.”
Merlin laughs. “No I’m not!”
“Look,” Arthur turns to Merlin. “Father’s happy, Vivian’s happy, the baby will grow up with loving, happily married parents, and two older siblings that will love it completely and dote on it like it was their own. What’s wrong with that scenario?”
“The mother is your ex-girlfriend.”
“Barely.”
“Well, it counts.”
Arthur rolls his eyes at Merlin. “It’s fine. I’m OK about it.”
--
Three weeks later, it hits Arthur that his step-mother, who’s his own age, is having his father’s baby, and he’s going to have a brand new baby sibling, whom he will be older than by nearly thirty years.
His immediate response is to get drunk, and when he calls Merlin at three-thirty in the morning and declares, “I’m losht. In a bar. In Camelot. And I’m drunk. Come and find me, pleashe,” he really doesn’t deserve, or anticipate, Merlin actually turning up.
“What’s this about, then, hey?” Merlin strokes the damp fringe back of Arthur’s forehead.
“Vivian ish having a baby,” Arthur groans.
“Yes, I know.”
“She’sh having a baby and I’m not even in a proper relationship!”
Merlin chuckles. “Hey, there’s plenty of time. Charlie Chaplin had babies when he was in his eighties.”
“What are you shuggesting? That I’ll be EIGHTY before shomeone loves me?”
Merlin chuckles again. “No, Arthur, I’m not.”
Their conversation has taken them the whole way home. Merlin wrestles Arthur into bed, and draws the covers up over him. Merlin’s turning away from the bed when Arthur suddenly opens his eyes and grabs his wrist.
“Did you take your tablets?”
Merlin looks back at Arthur. “Yes.”
“Liar.”
Merlin sighs and crawls onto the bed next to Arthur. He rests his head on Arthur’s chest and says, “They make me feel fuzzy around the edges.”
“But if you don’t take them, how does it feel?” Arthur’s drowsy, but he wants to make sure Merlin understands that the tablets are Important, and if he doesn’t take them, he’ll Cause Havoc again and need to be Hospitalised.
He wraps his arms around Merlin, because that will help drive the point home, he thinks.
“Like the world’s too sharp. Spiky. It hurts.”
“So which is better?”
“Spiky. It might hurt, but at least I can feel.”
“Merlin, please take your tablets. I can’t lose you. I can’t do without you.” Arthur’s falling asleep, drunk and uncertain of what he’s saying. He just knows he has to press home the issue with Merlin. “Now I’ve found you, I can’t do without you. Please stay well.”
Merlin heaves a shuddery sigh. “OK. I’ll try.” Merlin takes a few deep breaths in and out, calming his racing heartbeat. “Arthur? I think I really like you.” He glances up at Arthur, who is fast asleep and lets out a rumbling snore.
Merlin wants to laugh at the ridiculousness of the situation, but instead he pulls the duvet round them and sleeps with his head against Arthur’s heartbeat.
--
Merlin wakes the next morning to find a glass of water being thrust into his face.
“Here. Take them.”
He tries to sit up in bed, struggling against the duvet. The damn thing’s trying to engulf him in a giant, feathery hug, and Merlin can’t bloody breathe. Eventually, he wins the fight against the engulfing warmth and manages to prop himself back against the headboard.
Arthur is still holding out the glass of water, and a handful of the tablets Merlin recognises from the hospital.
“Take them, Merlin,” Arthur says sternly, and Merlin obediently does so. As he swallows, he looks up at Arthur.
“Aren’t you supposed to be dying of a hangover?”
Arthur chuckles. “I’m fine. Thanks for coming to get me though. I was pretty upset.”
Merlin laughs, and agrees. He can’t help but rake his eyes over Arthur’s naked chest, and down his golden thighs, and…whoops. Morning wood.
Before Merlin can say anything, Arthur notices his groin too. He blushes a bright, glowing red and snatches up his dressing gown. Wrapping the burgundy towelling around himself, he mutters, “I’ll take a shower,” and scurries into the bathroom.
Merlin lies back in bed, breathing in the scent of Arthur on the pillows, and waiting for the fuzzy edges to creep in.
He’s still lying there when Arthur emerges from the bathroom, wet haired and with rivulets of water running down over his chest.
Merlin’s breath catches, and Arthur blushes again. “Are you OK?” Merlin asks him.
“Yeah. I just freaked out a bit about not being in a real relationship at my age. Sorry to call you out.”
“It’s OK. As for the relationship thing, at least you’re not a widower.”
Arthur feels his face contract with something akin to pity and jealousy. He doesn’t want to think about Merlin’s wife. Doesn’t want to acknowledge that someone else loved Merlin first, better, honestly, openly. He manages to choke out, around the lump in his throat, “You’re young. You’ll meet someone.”
“So will you.”
Arthur pretends to mull that over. “You’re right. I will. So will you.” He grins at Merlin and stands up to open a drawer to look for clothes, turning his back on the bed where Merlin is laid out like a feast for Arthur’s brain, and eyes, and cock.
The bedclothes rustle, the bedsprings creak and Merlin’s suddenly behind Arthur, fingers gentle against his shoulder blade, breath ghosting over the skin of Arthur’s shoulder. He brushes a drop of water off Arthur’s shoulder and rests his cheek against it.
“Don’t be sad,” he says softly. “You’re fantastic. I bet loads of people love you.”
Arthur can barely breathe at the contact, but before he can say anything, Merlin’s gone, and the bedroom door’s clicking closed quietly.
--
That night, when Arthur and Merlin decide to head for bed, they both automatically head for Arthur’s room. Until now, Merlin’s asked permission to follow Arthur to his room and the double bed that’s starting to smell of them both.
It’s only when Arthur’s reaching out his arms for Merlin to snuggle into him that he realises they’ve done this without discussion. His heart clenches, something indefinable flickering at the edges of his vision.
Merlin tucks himself against Arthur and, as he’s settling his head over Arthur’s heart, freezes.
“Is this OK?” he mutters, and Arthur chokes out, “Yes.”
Merlin settles his head and Arthur snaps off the light, but they lie stiffly in bed, pose making their muscles ache as they both breathe shallowly, out of sync.
Into the dark, Merlin whispers, “I’m sorry.”
“What for?” Arthur murmurs back.
“For taking this for granted.”
Arthur’s arms tighten around Merlin. “Always take it for granted, Merlin,” he whispers, and Merlin murmurs his thanks.
They eventually drift off, but Arthur awakens in the night to find he’s shifted onto his side.
Merlin’s legs are wrapped around his waist, his long fingers tangling in Arthur’s hair. Arthur’s arms encircle Merlin’s waist, and he can feel the stiff pressure of Merlin’s erection against his hip.
His blood fires at the sensation, his own erection rising to bump Merlin’s hip.
Merlin shifts and rocks his hips slightly against Arthur’s, cocks rubbing together gently.
Arthur tries to resist, tries to pull away, but Merlin’s not asleep. He looks up at Arthur through heavy-lidded eyes, thick eyelashes, and mutters, “Please, please. I want this. Please, Arthur.”
Arthur slides his hands down to grip Merlin’s hips, and grinds harder against him. Merlin gasps wetly into his neck, tongue licking at the tendons in Arthur’s neck.
Arthur leans down and bites Merlin’s collarbone, which elicits a moan from the other man.
The friction increases, the tension builds, and as Merlin brings his lips to press against Arthur’s, an oddly chaste kiss for what they’re doing, they both come, hot liquid spilling up over their stomachs.
Merlin sighs blissfully. “Thank you,” he murmurs and drifts off into sleep. As he glides away from Arthur and consciousness, he adds, “I love you, Frey.”
Arthur lies in the darkness, sick guilt roiling in his stomach, come cooling and drying on his skin. He hates his own weakness, and whatever Merlin’s words, he feels he’s taken advantage of Merlin’s sleepy state. He manages to doze for a few minutes shortly before dawn, and when he wakes, Merlin is gone.
--
After that, Merlin no longer curls up in Arthur’s bed next to him and sleeps each night. Arthur misses the warmth of his long, slender body pressed against Arthur’s side, and the softness of Merlin’s dark hair as it brushes against Arthur’s cheek, a minty scent filling his nose.
--
Merlin tries to sleep alone. He misses the feeling of security he found in Arthur’s arms. The spicy scent of Arthur’s cologne clings to Merlin’s skin for two days after he vacated Arthur’s bed, and the places where Arthur’s hands touched burn hot for weeks. The rest of Merlin feels oddly chilled.
--
Six months pass. Merlin continues to take his tablets. Arthur watches carefully to ensure that Merlin doesn’t ‘accidentally’ forget again. A couple of months in, Arthur accompanies Merlin to another appointment with Dr Stephens, who lowers the dosage of the tablets Merlin takes.
Merlin tells Arthur the world is less fuzzy.
Arthur feels the world is spiky and sharp, that it hurts to be in it. But he says nothing.
They circle each other, still watching movies together, still talking, still sharing a coffee on the cold station platform, whilst Merlin waits for a train back to Ealdor to visit his mother.
But they sleep in separate beds, curled in on themselves against the winter’s chill wind. Arthur reaches across the bed into the cold space to encircle Merlin and meets nothing but frigid, empty air. Merlin rests his cheek against his pillow and tries to imagine it’s the warmth of Arthur’s chest beneath his cold cheek.
--
Merlin sees a counsellor as part of his treatment, and comes home often in tears, eyes red and puffy.
He refuses Arthur’s hold and arms on those days.
Lance and Will have been watching the two men circle each other and go separately to comfort both Merlin and Arthur. Their own relationship moves from strength to strength, and eventually, they move out of Arthur’s house into their own flat. Arthur knows they need it, but he misses his two best friends fiercely.
Merlin stays behind, even though Will assures him there’s room at the new place.
Arthur’s pathetically grateful that Merlin’s stayed with him – he eventually remembered begging Merlin to stay with him, telling Merlin that he, Arthur, couldn’t do without the skinny, dark-haired man. It’s no less true, even though they don’t share a bed.
In time, Arthur takes a pretty red-head out for dinner a few times, and then a chunky blonde girl. She lasts nearly two months, but Merlin never remembers her name.
A third, black-haired girl nearly makes it to three weeks before she inadvertently insults Merlin and finds herself on the wrong side of Arthur’s front door, bag and shoes in hand.
Life is a little duller than before, a little colder, a little less joyful.
Merlin heals slowly, whilst Arthur burns, white-hot with desire, for the man insensible of Arthur’s fragile emotions.
--
Arthur’s preparing for the imminent birth of his new sibling by drinking a bottle of extremely good Scotch (Vivian rang him the other day to ask him about nursery wallpapers – like Arthur would know) when Merlin wanders into the lounge.
“Arthur?”
“Hmm?” Arthur looks up from the label on the bottle. “What?”
“Do you think that we could go somewhere on Saturday?”
“Where?”
“Oakridge. It’s a small village, outside Cirencester. I lived there with Freya.”
Arthur finds that the mention of Merlin’s wife’s name acts as a sobering agent, no matter where he is, or what he’s doing. His head is pounding now, blood rushing through his ears.
“Of course we can, Merlin. Why?”
“It’ll be our wedding anniversary on Saturday.”
Arthur wants to slam his head through a wall. Instead, he screws the lid back on the whiskey bottle and agrees to drive Merlin 100 miles there and 100 miles back to visit the village where he lived with the dead wife he’s still crazy about.
Arthur finds himself face down on his bed a few minutes later, and can’t work out why his face and pillow are wet with tears.
--
They leave early on the Saturday morning. To Arthur’s chagrin, it’s going to be a beautiful day – the sky will be clear and the sun shining.
Merlin looks adorable, wrapped up in a dark blue hoodie, and curled up in the passenger seat of Arthur’s car. Arthur tries not to gaze at him for too long. When he finally turns off the motorway, onto the quieter A-roads, he looks across at Merlin.
Merlin looks back and smiles a soft smile at Arthur. “Thank you,” he says quietly. “Thanks for driving and for coming with me. I’m glad you’re here.”
And Arthur smiles back, heart shattering in two, because he wants Merlin, and Merlin has never seemed further away.
--
They end up at the churchyard. Arthur offers to wait in the car whilst Merlin takes the (garage forecourt) roses to Freya. Merlin shrugs awkwardly.
“Would you mind coming with me?” He asks hesitantly.
Arthur unbuckles his seatbelt and clambers out of the car. He follows Merlin across the graveyard, two steps behind him.
The grave is white marble, with black lettering: Freya Emrys, it reads, 10-4-1979 to 11-08-2007, beloved wife.
Merlin brushes a leaf off the top of the stone. “Hi, Freya,” he says softly, “I bought you some roses.”
Merlin lays the pink roses across the bottom of the stone, and steps back. “This is Arthur,” he says, reaching out a hand for Arthur’s. Arthur has to take it. His warm fingers enfold Merlin’s cold ones.
“I live with him now,” Merlin continues. “You’d like him.”
Arthur leans forward and with his free hand, brushes his fingers over the top of the headstone. “Hi,” he breathes, quiet. “I’m taking care of him.”
Merlin’s fingers clench in Arthur’s at the whispered words.
“Can you give us a minute?” Merlin asks Arthur, gesturing between the headstone and himself.
Arthur nods and backs away, before turning and walking to the car.
He switches on the engine and turns the heat up to eleven. He waits for Merlin, air vents blasting warm air across his feet.
After a few minutes, Merlin stumbles up to the car and into the passenger seat. His face is puffy from crying.
Arthur instinctively opens his arms to the other man, and Merlin hurls himself across the space to press his face into Arthur’s broad chest. Arthur’s arms wrap Merlin in close.
“Are you OK?” Arthur whispers after a minute.
Merlin nods. “I wanted to say goodbye,” he says, looking up into Arthur’s face.
“OK,” Arthur says, trying to smile.
Merlin takes a deep breath. “My counsellor said I should move on. That I’d grieved long enough.”
Arthur nods. “If you’re ready.”
Merlin’s face grows thoughtful. “I think I’m ready. How do I know?”
Arthur shrugs. He wants to say, because you’ll want me, because you’ll laugh more, because we’ll be happy together, but instead he just shrugs again. “I don’t know,” he finally says. “I guess you’ll just know. It’ll be right.”
In his head, Arthur yells, It’s right to be with me. Want me, love me, kiss me. Out loud, he murmurs, “Shall we go home?”
Merlin nods, wipes his eyes and moves back to his own seat. Arthur feels the loss like losing a layer of skin. He wants to sob, to cry out, to plead with Merlin to be OK; instead, he forces a smile and puts the car in gear.
--
The journey home is quiet – Merlin falls asleep, exhausted after the storm of crying.
Arthur drives in silence, occasionally glancing across to Merlin. His thoughts are full of that white marble headstone. Beloved wife, it had read. Beloved wife.
Freya Emrys, beloved wife.
And Arthur had promised her he was taking care of Merlin.
--
“How did you meet Freya?”
Merlin pauses in unpacking the takeaway and glances up at Arthur. “What?”
“Freya. How did you meet her?”
Merlin frowns. “You’ve never asked me anything about her before.”
Arthur stiffens. His nerves are raw enough, without Merlin saying things like that. “Hey, you don’t have to tell me.” Arthur grabs a bag of food and begins to remove the trays of food.
He doesn’t realise how agitated he is until Merlin reaches his hand across the table and wraps his long fingers around Arthur’s wrist. “Arthur. Stop. Please.”
Arthur’s hands still on the crumpled bag. “I’ve never asked, because you’ve never spoken about her. Today, I drove you 200 miles to put roses on her grave. Can I help it if I’m curious?” Arthur’s voice is raw with pain and confusion.
Merlin gazes into Arthur’s eyes, who notices Merlin’s eyes glitter suspiciously. “I met her through a friend.”
“Will?”
“No. A guy called Frank. We worked together. She was his housemate.”
“Where did you work?”
“A coffee shop. In Cirencester.” Merlin releases Arthur’s wrist and continues plating up the takeaway.
“How did you end up in Cirencester?”
“I was working at this club whilst I was at uni here. It was really hard work keeping my grades up and working enough hours to keep a roof over my head. Will kept subbing me cash, and I felt like a complete sponge. Then Gaius died. He was my uncle?” Merlin glances up to make sure Arthur’s following.
Arthur nods, he’s listening.
Merlin continues. “It was just too much. I just walked out of work one day. It was about 8 o’clock in the evening, and I just…got on a train. I stopped the first night in Bristol. Suddenly, there was nothing pressuring me, no-one telling me what to do. Until then, I hadn’t realised how stressed I’d been. But really, I’d just swapped one set of problems for another. I had nowhere to live, no money, no-one to rely on.”
“It must have been tough.” Arthur’s transfixed, listening to Merlin’s tale. He can’t imagine being that poor – what Uther hasn’t provided for Arthur, his late mother’s private income has. And now his job means he can support himself and never go without.
Merlin makes a gesture Arthur doesn’t understand. “I got by for a few weeks. Then, I just couldn’t take it anymore. I climbed up onto this bridge, and went to jump. This policeman talked me down. They took me to this hospital; I stayed there for a few weeks, they wanted to release me, but I had no next of kin, so I had to stay there till they decided I was well.
“After that, it was too hard to go home. I’d been away for nearly a year. I knew Will would be so worried, but I couldn’t do it, couldn’t go back to that stressful life, that constant pressure.” Merlin’s voice cracks on the last word, as he gazes into the distance and remembers.
Arthur can’t help himself. He rounds the table and gathers Merlin into his arms. The hug makes them both feel better.
“Anyway,” Merlin presses on. “I decided to just go to Cirencester after I left hospital, and I found a place to live, a job, all the bits you need to live. I started working in this coffee shop, met Frank and met Freya.” Merlin shrugs one shoulder.
“I liked her, she liked me, so we went out a few times. We got on, we got married, she died. I loved her,” Merlin meets Arthur’s eyes. His face is twisted with pain and Arthur’s arms tighten around Merlin again.
“I miss her,” Merlin sighs, “but sometimes I forget to miss her. I mean, I’m happy here, with you.”
Arthur smiles, presses his cheek against Merlin’s. “I’m happy you’re here.”
Merlin pulls back and looks gravely at Arthur. “I’m not ready to be with you yet.” Arthur’s face must betray complete surprise, because Merlin chuckles.
“What, you think I hadn’t noticed?” he asks Arthur. “I’m crazy about you, and I know you’re crazy about me. I just need time. To get used to the idea.”
“Take time,” Arthur babbles, gasps, because Merlin’s just told him he’s crazy about him. “As much time as you need.”
Merlin smiles and kisses Arthur’s cheek. “I will. Thank you. You really are an extraordinary man. Do you know that?”
Arthur wants to cry. He just shakes his head at Merlin.
Merlin releases Arthur, and turns to the table. “Can we eat now? It’s getting cold.”
Arthur laughs and moves back to sit on his side of the table.
As he picks up his fork, he looks up at Merlin. “I will wait. For you to be ready.”
Merlin smiles. “I know you will. But you’ll be patient if I’m not ready for a while, won’t you?” his question is tinged with uncertainty.
Arthur nods.
“Good,” Merlin replies, “but I reckon it’ll be OK. After all, I love you.” And he tucks into his dinner.
It takes a moment for Arthur’s brain to decipher what Merlin has said. He tries to hold the joy bubbling up inside him down, but it fizzes along his fingers and buzzes in his chest.
Eventually, he speaks, his throat tight with tears. “I’ll be patient,” he says. “I’ll be patient with you,” and leans over the table to press his lips against Merlin’s, warm, slightly parted and softer than he expected. “I love you too.”
--
Arthur wakes the next morning with a familiar scent surrounding him, and a long, warm body pressed against his side. That’s not how he fell asleep.
Hardly daring to breathe, he cracks open one eye and sees Merlin’s dark mop of hair resting against his shoulder. A sigh of relief escapes. He’s ready.
Merlin chuckles and tips his face up to meet Arthur’s eyes. “Pleased about something?”
“I’ve missed this,” Arthur smiles gently.
Merlin’s face sobers. “Me too.” He leans up and kisses Arthur gently on the lips. Arthur slides his hands down to stroke at the bottom of Merlin’s back. He slides his fingers under the waist band of Merlin’s boxers. Merlin arches slightly, allowing Arthur’s fingers to slide further into his pants.
The phone rings, slicing though the silence. Merlin leans over and picks it up. “Hello?”
He passes the phone to Arthur, “It’s your father.”
Arthur takes the phone. “Father?”
“Arthur! You’ve got a new sister!” Uther’s voice is lighter and more joyful than it’s been for a long time.
Arthur feels warmth flood his chest. “Wow!” he crows. “That’s fantastic! When did this happen?”
“4 o’clock this morning. 7lbs, 4oz. She’s a beauty, Arthur. Vivian and I can’t stop looking at her. Vivian’s exhausted, poor love.”
“Can Merlin and I come and visit?”
“Yes! Yes, please!”
They agree times, and Arthur hangs up the phone. He looks down at Merlin. “Want to go meet my baby sister?”
Merlin grins. “Are you going to have another existential crisis and get drunk again?”
Arthur tips his head back and roars with laughter. It’s a rich, heavy noise that wraps Merlin’s heart in a tight grip and squeezes gently. It’s divine.
--
Arthur and Merlin wander through the maternity ward, hand in hand. They eventually come to the private room at the end.
Merlin knocks and goes in first. Arthur follows him, and sees Vivian cradling a small, pink bundle.
“Arthur!” she cries. “Come and meet your sister!”
Uther watches proudly, as Arthur takes the pink bundle.
Arthur looks down into the tiny, wrinkled face of his new sister. A rush of love washes through him. “Hello,” he says softly, stroking her cheek with one finger. “Hello, I’m Arthur. I’m your big brother. Yes, I am!”
Merlin comes up behind them and peers over Arthur’s shoulder at the baby. “I’m Merlin,” he coos at the baby. “I’m Arthur’s boyfriend.”
The two men cuddle the baby, gazing in wonder at her wide, blue eyes. Arthur eventually looks up.
“Have you decided on a name?”
Uther beams. “Yes! We’ve decided on Anna.” Vivian nods and smiles. She looks tired, dark shadows underneath her eyes. She moves gingerly in the bed, like all her muscles ache.
Arthur looks back to the baby in his arms. He can feel Merlin warm across his back, long fingers brushing the back of Arthur’s neck, and he smiles at the baby.
“Hello, Anna,” he says, and turns his head to kiss his lover, eager for the future laid out before them all.
-fin-
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2010-05-14 01:02 am (UTC)I'd really love to see more in this verse!
no subject
Date: 2010-05-14 06:36 am (UTC)As for more in this verse, ask and ye shall receive. I've got some deadlines coming up, so it'll probably just be a one-shot soon, but I'd quite like to revisit Arthur and Merlin in a few years when they've been together a while.
no subject
Date: 2010-05-14 03:29 pm (UTC)Strangely enough it was the gentleness of this gripped me so. Thank you for writing it, and I would love, love to read more in this verse. I've friended you, if that is alright?
no subject
Date: 2010-05-14 05:12 pm (UTC)I also knew Arthur would have to act in a way that was Arthurish, so he would still want the Merlin that was underneath all the sadness, and medication, and fear, but he was going to have to be an exceptional sort of man to see past the not-Merlin stuff. I think that came across? I hope so anyway.
As for friending me, that's absolutely fine; I have returned the compliment. =D
(More in this verse will follow: probably in a week or so!)
no subject
Date: 2010-05-19 05:11 am (UTC)<3<3<3
no subject
Date: 2010-05-19 11:06 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-05-21 03:22 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-05-21 06:37 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-05-21 03:28 am (UTC)(On a side note, may I friend you? You named this 'verse the neruda 'verse which imo is one of the most fantastic things about this. Stay awesome.)
no subject
Date: 2010-05-21 06:41 am (UTC)(Yes, friend me. Neruda 'Verse seemed appropriate when I was nicking all of Pablo's best lines to title my fics! Seriously, he's amazing. 'Song of Despair' is just...*sigh* brilliant.)
no subject
Date: 2010-07-22 04:39 pm (UTC)Your Arthur, too, is lovely. His desire for Merlin seems to fill every corner of his life, but I love that he's gentle and careful, stepping lightly to not scare the other man off. He gives only as much as Merlin needs even when it hurts not to be able to offer everything he has.
Arthur being called to the psych ward was a huge surprise, but he handled it with amazing aplomb. I love that he keeps Merlin's secrets and makes sure Merlin takes his meds and is just what Merlin needs to feel safe and cared for. Merlin pulling back after what felt like weeks of sleeping in one another's arms and finally having sex was awful, and I wondered if Merlin was ever going to be ready to love Arthur. When he finally confessed his feelings, I let out a huge sigh of relief.
Ending this with the birth of the new baby sister and Arthur and Merlin tentatively embarking on this new thing together was perfect. This is what Arthur's been waiting for since the first time he saw Merlin's photograph. It was a difficult journey, but the destination makes it well worth it.
no subject
Date: 2010-11-28 05:15 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-04-10 03:37 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2013-08-29 02:22 pm (UTC)