See You At The Finish Line (Merthur)
Title: See You At The Finish Line
Summary: Arthur finds out running races is a lot like a relationship.
Pairing: Merlin/Arthur
The second worst part of races is the beginning. Trying to keep all the nerves from bubbling up and out of you, trying to keep calm and collected waiting for the blast of the gun. The anticipation is murder and time slows down. And once that gun fires, you have to focus and your body has to start warming up, has to get used to the pacing. The beginning is just a bunch of terrible feelings all mixed together, but it gets you to a good place. Where your body goes on muscle memory and everything stretches and feels good and you think you have all the energy in the world and could go on forever.
Arthur has learned that races are a lot like relationships. In the beginning, when he and Merlin met, that was the second worst part of their relationship. Arthur had been stuck up, arrogant, and admittedly a bit of a prat. Merlin had been too kind, too sarcastic, and everything Arthur needed. It was hate at first glance for them both, but neither of them had known what would blossom from their encounter. They made it past their rocky beginning and Arthur had finally gotten the guts to ask Merlin out. From there, things smoothed out, and they get to a beautiful place that felt familiar but also new and exciting.
The worst part of a race is the middle. When your body is at its limit but you have to keep pushing. Your muscles are shaking and your breathing is desperate, because even though you’ve trained for this you will never avoid it. Sometimes you don’t get passed this part, sometimes you give up. Sometimes you just never make it to the end.
That’s where Merlin and Arthur are at now. The middle. Arthur had of course, fucked up once again. There had been yelling and crying and throwing. Arthur wasn’t sure they were going to make it out of this. To be fair, Arthur had never made it past the rocky beginning stage before, so people should be more pleased with him getting even this far.
The gun fires and Arthur is off. Anger and frustration nipping at his heels, making his strides more purposeful. He goes through everything he has just been dreading in his head beforehand, but finally relaxes into a steady rhythm.
Merlin told him he’d never show up to any of his races ever again. That Arthur would have to just pick up a new ‘luck charm’ which shouldn’t be too hard a task at all.
Arthur grinds his teeth together and presses on. He’s taken the lead, but there’s a long way ahead of him still.
Really, this was all Morgana’s fault anyway. She had been the one to let Vivian upstairs. How could she have been so careless. Morgana had also been the one to encourage Arthur to ask Merlin out.
Arthur clenches his fists and thinks about all the ways he could blame Morgana for everything terrible in his life. His calves burn and his lungs are starting to ache in his chest. Nothing he hasn’t felt a million times before, nothing he can’t handle. He pictures Merlin’s face again and the last words he said to Arthur a week earlier. Pain shoots through his chest and he doesn’t know exactly what’s to blame.
The problem is that sometimes you just need the right motivation to keep going, to get through the worst part of the race. And sometimes you just don’t have it. Sometimes you don’t have what it takes and sometimes you’re just not good enough.
Arthur feels the fatigue hitting him, his legs are burning and his muscles are tired. He’s heaving breaths and he can feel himself slowing down. Maybe he really won’t finish this race. People start to pass him on either side and he can feel everything slipping away. He can’t keep going, there’s nothing for him at that yellow tape. The crowd’s cheers will mean nothing and he’ll go home to his empty flat with a medal that means absolutely nothing.
Then he sees Merlin.
The best part of a race really is the end. When you start to get close and you turn on every bit of energy you have left. Crowds of people urging you on, and you’re getting closer and closer with every stride. Then you finally burst through the tape and cheers erupt and you feel like nothing else could even matter.
Seeing Merlin is like a second wind. Merlin is looking at him with that half-glare, half-smile that Arthur has somehow grown to love. The pale skin and dark hair and blue eyes take away all the pain in Arthur’s body. He can feel his strides getting longer, pumping his arms faster. He starts passing people that are trying to reach the end but losing their wind. For Arthur, there is only Merlin’s face. Someone has already crossed the finish line but it doesn’t matter. Arthur comes in second and it still doesn’t matter. He turns before he gets to the crowd huddled around the winner. Arthur doesn’t care that those cheers aren’t for him because he’s running still. Merlin is jumping into his arms and Arthur doesn’t know how he’s still standing.
“I’m sorry, Arthur.”
It’s all Arthur needs to hear and he knows they’re going to be okay. He knows Merlin has talked to Morgana and that Arthur will have some groveling to do, but at least Merlin will be there. In his life, in his flat, in his bed. And that’s all that Arthur can possibly care about right now.
Summary: Arthur finds out running races is a lot like a relationship.
Pairing: Merlin/Arthur
The second worst part of races is the beginning. Trying to keep all the nerves from bubbling up and out of you, trying to keep calm and collected waiting for the blast of the gun. The anticipation is murder and time slows down. And once that gun fires, you have to focus and your body has to start warming up, has to get used to the pacing. The beginning is just a bunch of terrible feelings all mixed together, but it gets you to a good place. Where your body goes on muscle memory and everything stretches and feels good and you think you have all the energy in the world and could go on forever.
Arthur has learned that races are a lot like relationships. In the beginning, when he and Merlin met, that was the second worst part of their relationship. Arthur had been stuck up, arrogant, and admittedly a bit of a prat. Merlin had been too kind, too sarcastic, and everything Arthur needed. It was hate at first glance for them both, but neither of them had known what would blossom from their encounter. They made it past their rocky beginning and Arthur had finally gotten the guts to ask Merlin out. From there, things smoothed out, and they get to a beautiful place that felt familiar but also new and exciting.
The worst part of a race is the middle. When your body is at its limit but you have to keep pushing. Your muscles are shaking and your breathing is desperate, because even though you’ve trained for this you will never avoid it. Sometimes you don’t get passed this part, sometimes you give up. Sometimes you just never make it to the end.
That’s where Merlin and Arthur are at now. The middle. Arthur had of course, fucked up once again. There had been yelling and crying and throwing. Arthur wasn’t sure they were going to make it out of this. To be fair, Arthur had never made it past the rocky beginning stage before, so people should be more pleased with him getting even this far.
The gun fires and Arthur is off. Anger and frustration nipping at his heels, making his strides more purposeful. He goes through everything he has just been dreading in his head beforehand, but finally relaxes into a steady rhythm.
Merlin told him he’d never show up to any of his races ever again. That Arthur would have to just pick up a new ‘luck charm’ which shouldn’t be too hard a task at all.
Arthur grinds his teeth together and presses on. He’s taken the lead, but there’s a long way ahead of him still.
Really, this was all Morgana’s fault anyway. She had been the one to let Vivian upstairs. How could she have been so careless. Morgana had also been the one to encourage Arthur to ask Merlin out.
Arthur clenches his fists and thinks about all the ways he could blame Morgana for everything terrible in his life. His calves burn and his lungs are starting to ache in his chest. Nothing he hasn’t felt a million times before, nothing he can’t handle. He pictures Merlin’s face again and the last words he said to Arthur a week earlier. Pain shoots through his chest and he doesn’t know exactly what’s to blame.
The problem is that sometimes you just need the right motivation to keep going, to get through the worst part of the race. And sometimes you just don’t have it. Sometimes you don’t have what it takes and sometimes you’re just not good enough.
Arthur feels the fatigue hitting him, his legs are burning and his muscles are tired. He’s heaving breaths and he can feel himself slowing down. Maybe he really won’t finish this race. People start to pass him on either side and he can feel everything slipping away. He can’t keep going, there’s nothing for him at that yellow tape. The crowd’s cheers will mean nothing and he’ll go home to his empty flat with a medal that means absolutely nothing.
Then he sees Merlin.
The best part of a race really is the end. When you start to get close and you turn on every bit of energy you have left. Crowds of people urging you on, and you’re getting closer and closer with every stride. Then you finally burst through the tape and cheers erupt and you feel like nothing else could even matter.
Seeing Merlin is like a second wind. Merlin is looking at him with that half-glare, half-smile that Arthur has somehow grown to love. The pale skin and dark hair and blue eyes take away all the pain in Arthur’s body. He can feel his strides getting longer, pumping his arms faster. He starts passing people that are trying to reach the end but losing their wind. For Arthur, there is only Merlin’s face. Someone has already crossed the finish line but it doesn’t matter. Arthur comes in second and it still doesn’t matter. He turns before he gets to the crowd huddled around the winner. Arthur doesn’t care that those cheers aren’t for him because he’s running still. Merlin is jumping into his arms and Arthur doesn’t know how he’s still standing.
“I’m sorry, Arthur.”
It’s all Arthur needs to hear and he knows they’re going to be okay. He knows Merlin has talked to Morgana and that Arthur will have some groveling to do, but at least Merlin will be there. In his life, in his flat, in his bed. And that’s all that Arthur can possibly care about right now.