Arthur smiles sleepily at the sensation of Merlin's long eyelashes brushing against his bare chest. Outside the rain pours down in the first hours of the day and a lightning casts its azure light over Merlin's sleeping face. His cheekbones seem two little pale hills. Arthur has grown fond of this habit that they have, of Merlin sleeping with him, his bony body pressed against his own. He slides a hand up and down the line of Merlin’s spine. He doesn’t know what will be his future, but he knows that he wants the young warlock to be with him.