Gibraltar May Tumble Part 3 for camelots_closet
Title: Gibraltar May Tumble 3/3
Author: shes_gone
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: ~25,000
Summary: Merlin's life in London is a bit of a mess: his career trapped somewhere between student and professional, his love life trapped in a relationship gone sour, and most days he feels physically trapped in the tiny, shared flat he can't afford to move out of-until an unexpected opportunity sends him packing for the coast. There, he meets someone who might be in a even worse fix than he is: Arthur, a Victorian-era sea captain who's trapped, a bit literally, between life and death, and who refuses to leave the house he died in over a hundred years ago.
Warnings: I suppose I need to warn for major character death, but, like. Only sort of. Trust me? :D
Part One || Part Two
♦♦♦
"Bloody fucking Christ," Merlin says, feeling the shock all the way down to his toes.
"Merlin, language!" Gaius chides.
"Sorry. Feeling a bit overwhelmed."
"All right, now. All right. You can let go."
"Don't think I can, actually."
"Sure you can. Just-yes, there you go. All right," Gaius says, as Merlin manages to unwrap his arms from around the old man's neck.
"I don't understand," Merlin says, collapsing into a chair. "Why couldn't I remember you before? Could you-have you known this whole time?"
"I don't pretend to understand any of this, Merlin," Gaius says, shaking his head. "Reincarnation magic-if magic is really all this is-is well and truly above my pay grade." Merlin gives a weak chuckle. "And, no, I also only remembered our shared past relatively recently. A couple of months ago."
"What made you remember?" Merlin asks. "It took a bit of fairly traumatic déjà vu to make me remember Arthur."
Gaius nods. "That sounds about right. For me, it all came crashing back about fifteen minutes after I walked in on the two of you making doe eyes at one another in my back room."
Merlin can't move for a moment, then sputters. "I-we-there were no doe eyes," he manages. "And that's… hardly traumatic, is it?"
Gaius just raises an eyebrow.
"Oh god," Merlin says, burying his face in his hands and feeling his ears burn.
Gaius chuckles, after letting Merlin squirm for a moment. "Oh, Merlin, it's all right. No need to be embarrassed. Believe me, it looks a lot less ridiculous now than it used to."
Merlin peeks at him miserably through his fingers. "It does?"
Gaius meets his eye. "Well, it's the reason we're all here, isn't it? You two may be a bit... overly earnest, but this is clearly something more than the youthful infatuation I once took it for."
Merlin drops his hands, but feels the heat of his blush rally on. "Suppose so." He pauses. "When you met him, Arthur, did you know that he was-"
"Dead? Not immediately, no. There was something off about his appearance, certainly, but I couldn't place it. Not until I worked out who he really was, and realised he doesn't just look like the boy in that portrait." Gaius turns to his desk and retrieves a small stack of paper. "Now," he says, "let's bring him back to you, shall we?"
Merlin stares at him. "OK, wow. Convincing you was a lot easier than I was expecting," he says.
Gaius chuckles and sets the papers on the table, where Merlin can see they're lined with his familiar handwritten scrawl. "In anticipation of this conversation, I've taken the liberty of doing some research over the past few weeks."
"Oh Gaius," Merlin says, huffing a laugh, "where've you been all my lives?"
Gaius looks at him. "How many have there been?"
"Oh, um," Merlin says, thinking. "Seven, I think, that I remember distinctly. And then there's a bunch of fuzzy bits that I can't quite place. Dunno if they're separate, or-or what."
Gaius blinks, and tilts his head to the side. "Seven," he repeats, after a moment. He shakes his head, as if to clear it. "Right, well, I'd like to hear about that later. For now, though, am I correct in my assumption that all we've got to work with is Arthur's spirit? There's no... body you're attempting to reanimate, correct?"
"No," Merlin says, cringing. "I mean-yes. Correct."
"Good," Gaius says, nodding. "Far too many ways that that can go wrong. On this side of things, though, we may need to get a bit creative, as there's really only one established method of bringing someone back from the spiritual realm, but I'm not sure how effective we're going to find it."
"Because it's a myth?" Merlin asks, wincing a little.
Gaius looks at him, pausing, and sets his papers down on the table. "Were you able to get it to work?" he asks, skipping the unnecessary questions.
"A bit," Merlin says.
Gaius chuckles, almost incredulously, but there's pride in his eyes. "Of course you were," he says, and Merlin ducks his head. "What's 'a bit'?" Gaius asks.
"He comes back," Merlin says, "with a body, but he doesn't stay, obviously. And when the spell's up, he's completely gone, not here even as a spirit, for-well, it's pretty unpredictable for how long."
"The body you give him," Gaius asks, "is it fully functioning?"
Merlin nods. "He's got a heart that beats, he breathes, he blinks, he eats and goes to the bathroom, and... other things. Yeah, he works."
"All right," Gaius says, turning past the first few pages of his notes. "We can skip all this early experimentation, then. Have you been able to identify any variable that affects the strength of the spell? How long it lasts?"
"Nothing very precise," Merlin says.
"With magic like this, it won't be," Gaius assures him. "But there is something?"
"Um, yeah," Merlin says, feeling his ears go hot. He's not sure he can look Gaius in the eye and say that what seems to matter is how much he wants Arthur, at the time he casts the spell.
Gaius holds up a hand. "I'm familiar enough with the theory of this spell that I imagine I don't actually want to know any of the details. So long as you're aware of it, I'm satisfied."
Merlin breathes an embarrassed laugh. "Sounds good," he says.
"All right, let's see," Gaius continues, looking over his notes. "What about timing?" Gaius looks up at him. "Have you worked that one out for yourself as well?"
Merlin looks at him blankly. "Like, time of day? Or how long I cast it for?"
"Ah," Gaius says, smiling, "we stumble upon the reason I'm actually here."
Merlin sits up a bit straighter.
"What this magic does, Merlin, and what you've been successfully doing is pulling Arthur back through the barrier between the world of the living and the world of the dead. He started the process himself: it takes a certain level of strength and determination for a spirit to breach the veil and appear in the physical world at all. Your magic pulls him the rest of the way, bringing him seemingly all the way through, temporarily. The veil never quite lets go, though, and eventually pulls him back to the spiritual world, as you've seen."
Merlin nods.
"The thing about the barrier, though-the veil-is that it doesn't maintain a constant strength. It ebbs and flows a bit over the course of the year, growing stronger and weaker with the cycle of life that follows the seasons."
"This is something I should know, isn’t it?" Merlin says, biting his lip. "If I'd been a better student."
Gaius smiles, and shrugs. "Probably. But if you had, I'm not sure I'd be here, and I've really enjoyed my life this go-round, so consider yourself forgiven."
Merlin grins. "So you think the veil might let him go, when it's weak enough?"
"That's my hope," he answers. "Your magic is very powerful, and his spirit is very strong. Together, when the veil is at its weakest, you might be able to sever his connection to the spiritual world, and anchor him permanently in this one."
"Do you honestly think it's possible?"
Gaius looks at him. "I think that, if ever it would work, it would be the two of you who'd pull it off."
Merlin blinks, and nods, feeling stomach start to twist a little. "So, when? When might the veil be weak enough?"
"The thirty-first of October," Gaius says.
"Halloween?" Merlin asks with a frown.
"Or as it was once more commonly known, Samhain," Gaius answers. "As we progress towards winter, the veil is necessarily thinned with the death of so much plant and animal life. Samhain marks the beginning of the dark half of the year, and the night when the spiritual and physical worlds are at their closest.
"Oh," Merlin says, a bit blankly. "That's... really soon."
Gaius nods. "You've done a great deal of preparation already, though, so I don't think we need fret about that."
"Mmm." Merlin swallows, his stomach tightening, because that's really, really soon.
Gaius frowns, watching him. "Merlin, are you unsure about this?"
"No," Merlin says. "It's just, um. I was expecting this to be the beginning of a long process, and-well. That we'd have more time to sort out all the-" he stops, and looks at his hands. "Gaius, do you think this is something we should be doing at all?" he asks.
Gaius's frown deepens in question.
"Arthur's worried about the-the cost," Merlin explains. "You know, the balance of nature, and all that rot."
"Ah," Gaius says, nodding. "Understandable. Normally, I'd agree with him, and be very cautious of this sort of thing. In this case, however, I think that Arthur's very existence indicates that something is already out of balance. And I suspect that yours and my presence here are a result of nature trying to correct herself."
The knot in Merlin's stomach eases a bit as he turns that over in his mind. "Yeah," he says, "that makes sense." He breathes for a moment, and then nods with conviction. "All right. So, is there anything we need to do now besides... wait?"
Gaius shakes his head. "Not that I can see. I should think you'll want to be careful about casting the spell again before Samhain, with it being as unpredictable as it is. I'd hate for him to miss it."
"Oh god," Merlin mutters, because he knows Gaius is right. "That's going to go over well."
♦♦♦
"You are an ass," Arthur barks, bursting out of the house and into the garden.
Merlin blinks at him, rake stilling in his hand. "Sorry?" he says, innocently.
Arthur crosses his arms over his chest. "I worked out how to click on the related videos."
Merlin ducks his head to hide his grin. "Did you?"
"You must think you are terribly funny."
"Your telekinesis comes in handy at the worst moments, you know," Merlin replies.
Arthur glares at him. "You've been mocking me for days."
"I haven't! Not really. Enjoying, perhaps, but not mocking."
"Liar! You let me prance around like a bloody-lord only knows what man was-while actively deceiving me into thinking that I was doing something useful. 'Oh, Arthur, here's this magically relevant ritualistic dance you should learn. It'll make it easier to slide through the veil if you do it backwards.' Well! I know all about Michael Jackson now, and his bloody moonwalk, and you can sod right the hell off."
It's still funny, of course, but there's a trace of desperation in Arthur's voice that plucks up a bit of guilt in Merlin's chest. "Arthur, you were driving me mad. I had to give you something to keep you busy."
Arthur scowls and looks away. "I just," he says at length, "I can't stand all this waiting."
Merlin sighs. "I know," he says. If there's one thing Arthur has never been suited to, in all the lifetimes that Merlin has known him, it's inaction. He's been prowling around the cottage for the last two weeks, his impatience and anxiety and restlessness palpable.
"D'you wanna help me rake these leaves?" Merlin asks.
Arthur frowns. "No. How would that help? And why are you doing that by hand, anyway? Just use your magic."
Merlin shrugs. "Because you're not the only one who needs something to do to pass the time."
"I know something that would pass the time," Arthur says. "That we could both do."
"Arthur, no. I told you, I'm not casting the spell again until Samhain."
"But that's ages from now. I'm sure I would be back in time."
"Well, I'm not," Merlin says, resolutely. "It's never been that predictable, and-well, that's that."
Arthur sighs heavily, turning his eyes skyward.
"You know I'd speed time up if I could," Merlin says, gently.
"Why can't you?" Arthur says, the very picture of petulance. "Why is your magic such utter rubbish?"
"Thanks," Merlin says, rolling his eyes.
Arthur crosses his arms over his chest and sighs, settling in against the fence to watch Merlin rake for a while. "Do you think this is going to work?" he asks, quietly, several minutes later.
Merlin looks at him. "I don't know," he says frankly. "I hope so."
"And if it doesn't?"
"Then we'll try again next year. And keep looking for anything else to try in the meantime."
"Like what?"
Merlin sighs. "I don't know. Let's just focus on this, for now."
"Focus on what?" Arthur asks.
"Raking these leaves, for a start," Merlin snaps.
Arthur scowls.
"Fine," Merlin says, rolling his eyes. "Can you lift that saw?"
Arthur looks at the old handsaw resting next to the garden path. It takes him a minute to work it out, but soon he's got it hovering in the air, sliding back and forth in a sawing motion. "Impressed?" he asks, grinning.
"Deeply," Merlin replies, flatly. "Now, how about you go saw off that branch that keeps knocking the parlour window? And then cut it up for firewood."
Arthur frowns. "Do people still do that? Aren't we living in an age that has moved past chopping firewood?"
"You're not," Merlin says, giving him a look. "Not yet, anyway. So go chop. If you finish without complaining, I'll... give you a reward later."
Arthur's eyes narrow. "Like what?"
"Like... I dunno. I'm sure I could think of something to show you, that you might like." Merlin tilts his head, eyeing him suggestively.
Arthur looks at him, mouth drawn tight. "Not fair," he says. "Not while you leave me stuck like this."
"It's a cruel world," Merlin says, smirking.
Arthur rolls his eyes, but trudges around the side of the house in pursuit of the offending tree branch.
Merlin watches him and then goes back to raking, enjoying the rhythm and exertion of the physical work. Something like five minutes pass before a crisp, dried leaf flies up at him out of nowhere, smacking him on the forehead. He purses his lips, glaring at the pile of leaves, and then gets hit by another. And another.
"Oh, you want to play that game, do you?" he says, and he's got the whole pile of leaves in the air, swirling into a massive ball aimed directly at Arthur's head in mere moments.
The resulting leaf fight leaves bits of leaf in Merlin's hair that he finds on the pillow hours later, long after he comes into his hand with Arthur's eyes pinned to him, as heavy and as heated as though they were actually there.
♦♦♦
Samhain dawns as a bright, crisp Sunday morning, nothing at all suggesting that the spiritual world will be as close as it's ever been, come nightfall.
Merlin sits at the kitchen table, stomach in knots. He's no stranger to important days-he's lived through plenty, over the course of his many lifetimes. And he was nervous for every single one, regardless of what he might have admitted to Arthur at the time. There were days he followed Arthur into battle, and nights spent by his sickbed, administering tonics and potions and magic, just hoping. There was the first time he ever told Arthur about his magic.
He closes his eyes and sinks into that memory, the terror of waiting for Arthur's reaction still enough to set his heart beating faster, centuries later. That one worked out all right, he reminds himself.
Merlin glances out the kitchen window at the sun, which isn't any higher than it was the last time he looked.
"So what would you like to do today?" Arthur asks, the levity in his voice ringing false.
Merlin huffs a humourless laugh. "Speed up time," he says.
"Honestly, how was that not the first think you learnt to do, when you worked out you were a wizard?"
"Sorry," Merlin says, weakly.
Arthur sighs, and a few minutes later, "Right, but seriously, what do you want to do today? We have to find something. I can't just sit here watching you fidget."
"Um," Merlin says. The house is clean, the yard tidied, the bills paid. Dinner's already prepared, sitting in the fridge. "We could go into town," he says. "See a film, while you can still sneak in without paying."
It's a nice day for the walk, and it kills a few hours, anyway, and gives them something to talk about.
Back at home, Merlin tries not to count every loud tick of the clock in the parlour until Arthur finally gives up, bolting up off the sofa. "I'm sorry," he says. "I have to-I can't just sit here. I need to-go."
"Where?"
Arthur shakes his head. "I don't know. I'll be back in time, I just-is that all right?"
Merlin manages a small nod.
Hours later, the sun is low and glittering off the water, and Merlin spots Arthur sitting on the browning grass just outside the garden, back against the fence, eyes out on the water. The gate clicks softly closed when Merlin joins him, sitting down shoulder to shoulder without a word.
"Are you nervous?" Arthur asks him, after a minute, and Merlin smiles.
"Yes," he answers. "I feel like I should be dressing you for battle or something."
Arthur gives a small laugh, and looks at Merlin before turning his gaze to his knees, propped up in front of him.
"Nothing we haven't done before, though, right?" Merlin says. "A little magic, a little sex. Old hat."
Arthur smiles weakly without looking at him.
Merlin swallows. "You do want this, right? I mean, you believe me about the balance and everything? You're not costing anyone anything, I promise."
"I do," Arthur says.
"But something's wrong."
"I just-Merlin, you've been so-I don't want you to think that-" Arthur starts, stops.
Merlin watches him, his eyes remarkably blue in the last of the day's sunlight even if they don't catch it quite right, and waits.
"If this doesn't work, Merlin," Arthur says, "it's all right. I'm all right," and Merlin's heart squeezes up tight inside his chest. Arthur looks right at him, not quite calm, but quiet. "And you should know that I wouldn't change anything. Nothing that we've-not any of it. I love you."
Merlin's breath catches high in his chest, and burns behind his eyes. "God, you-idiot," he says, and can't stop himself leaning in close, too soon, before he's done any magic at all, and when his nose knocks against the place where Arthur's cheek should be, he almost thinks he can feel it.
It takes him a moment to realise that he can.
He rears back an inch with a startled breath, because he felt it, not quite solid but definitely there, and Arthur's blinking back at him with shocked eyes.
"Could you-" Arthur asks.
"Yeah," Merlin says, voice high. "Could you?"
Arthur nods. "Did you already-?"
Merlin shakes his head no. They stare at each other, frozen, the space between them full of questions, until Merlin leans in close again, just nudging the tip of Arthur's nose with his own. It's there, not quite pressing back against Merlin's, but there, and Merlin thinks he can feel the tiniest ghosting of breath against his lips.
He brings a hand up to Arthur's face, drags his fingertips over an almost-there jaw, and he's not thinking about strength of spirit or veils between worlds or life or death or destiny or anything at all except Arthur as he breathes the familiar words.
He says them again, later, depositing them inside Arthur's mouth, and again against his shoulder, and again over his heart, into the arch of his foot and along the upwards strain of his cock.
He says them while Arthur fucks him, and again while he fucks Arthur, every thrust of his hips another stitch in Arthur's soul, pinning him here, right here to this bed, securely enough to stay.
♦♦♦
Merlin wakes up to Arthur's mouth on his cock, as the first hints of daylight are filtering in through the window, and he can't help but say the spell again. Arthur hears him and chuckles, the hum of it reverberating through Merlin's entire body.
"Once more for luck?" Arthur says some number of minutes later, as the sun rises and Merlin can taste his own come on Arthur's tongue, and Merlin does say it again, because he's never been very good at refusing Arthur anything, and he sees no reason to start now.
"Do you think that did it?" Merlin asks between kisses.
"Mmm," Arthur says.
"Is that a yes?"
"Hope so."
"Do you feel different?"
Arthur pauses to think, before kissing Merlin again. "Honestly, not really."
Merlin frowns. "Not at all?"
Arthur shrugs. "Same as all the other times."
Merlin blinks, and tries not to feel discouraged. "Are you sure?" he asks.
"Would you rather I lied?"
"I'd rather you were a... touch more encouraging."
"Mmm, I could try to be," Arthur says, and kisses him, "but that would take too much time away from kissing you."
Merlin sighs as Arthur's lips close over his again, warm and wet and slow. "Fair enough," he agrees.
♦♦♦
It's a different kind of waiting, now. Waiting for something they hope won't happen. Waiting for something they're trying not to wait for.
Weeks go by, and Arthur stays solid, real, alive by any definition Merlin can come up with, and every day it gets a little bit easier to believe he might actually stay that way. It's hard to know what to do, though, how to make any sort of plans, without really knowing.
Merlin comes home one day in mid-December to find Arthur chopping firewood in the back, finally having cut down the branch that's been threatening to break the parlour window for months.
Merlin watches him in silence for a while, enjoying each visible cloud of breath and the beads of sweat on his forehead, and the way each swing of the axe reminds him a little of the hours he once spent watching Arthur train with his sword.
Eventually, Arthur notices him. "Hi," he says, breath a bit laboured from the exertion.
"Hi," Merlin says.
"You been there long?"
"Not really," Merlin answers. "I like watching you do chores." Arthur rolls his eyes. "What brought this on?"
"It's my tree, isn't it?" Arthur shrugs. "I should take care of it."
Merlin smiles. "Yeah, I suppose it is." After a few moments, "So, my exam results came in," and Arthur looks up. "I passed. It's official. I'm fully qualified, and I'll be staying on with Gaius for-well, indefinitely."
Arthur hoots and drops the axe, jogging over to Merlin with a huge, beautiful smile. "Congratulations," he says, when he's close.
Merlin grins and kisses him, and, fuck, this feels normal. Like they're just two people making a life together, without anything other-worldly hanging over their heads.
♦♦♦
"I don't understand, you've not said anything about my clothes before," Arthur gripes.
"Well, in the winter, it wasn't as noticeable. A winter coat's a winter coat. Beachwear, on the other hand, has changed rather drastically over the last century. We don't you scaring the children." Merlin grabs a few different pairs of swim trunks off the shelf. "These should fit, but go try one on just to be certain," he says, pointing out the fitting room. "I'm going to find you a pair of thongs."
Arthur eyes the shorts in his hand warily, but does as he's told.
"All right, that should do it," Merlin announces, half an hour later. "I think we've got you fully kitted out." Arthur eyes the t-shirts and shorts, the strappy footwear, and Merlin smiles to himself, imagining him as the strapping sailing instructor that all the town's visiting grandchildren are inevitably going to fall in love with.
Arthur, though, doesn't look particularly satisfied.
"You're not nervous, are you?" Merlin asks.
"No."
"They're just children, Arthur."
"I know, it's fine. That's not-it's fine."
"Not what? What's wrong?"
"Don't you think I need anything a bit more... respectable?"
"This is perfectly respectable now, I promise."
"For when I am out on the water, yes, I believe you, but-I've been thinking about it, and I have a few other things that I'd like to discuss with the manager. A few ideas for improving the place, I mean. But I can't go to a meeting with her dressed in these," he says, gesturing to the swimwear.
Merlin grins. "Already full of grand ideas, are you?"
Arthur blinks at him, and looks away as his cheeks stain a bit pink. "I shouldn't, should I? I won't be anyone to her, just some low-grade summer employee. It would be completely inappropriate."
"It wouldn't," Merlin says, encouraging. "Just-maybe wait until you've been there for a few weeks, and then be careful not to insult anyone, and you'll be fine."
"Is there any point, though? Will they listen to me?"
"When have you ever had trouble getting people to listen to you, Arthur?" Merlin says, chuckling. "Come on, let's find you something a bit more buttoned up."
♦♦♦
Merlin hurries into the house and pulls the door shut as quick as he can, teeth chattering against the cold. Cabal, the large Springer Spaniel Arthur insisted on adopting last spring, comes loping out from the kitchen to greet him, and Merlin pulls off his mittens to rub the dog's ears while his fingers warm up.
The envelope he just pulled out of the letterbox is large and official-looking, and demands his attention, to Cabal's disappointment. With a twist of nerves, Merlin tears it open.
"Merlin?" Arthur calls from the kitchen. "Did you remember the wine? It's cold as tits, and you finished the whiskey last night."
Merlin doesn't answer, eyes scanning the papers. "Oh my god," he murmurs.
Arthur's head appears down the hall, peering through the open door. "Merlin?"
"I can't believe it worked," he mumbles to himself.
"Everything all right?" Arthur asks.
Merlin blinks at the papers, then up at Arthur. "Yeah," he says. "Yeah, um. How would you feel about a belated Christmas present?"
"Is it alcohol?"
"No."
"Hmm, not terribly likely I'm going to be interested, then, honestly."
Merlin rolls his eyes, and shoves a hand into the satchel still hanging from his shoulder. "Here, pillock," he says, producing a bottle of red wine.
Arthur beams. "Knew you wouldn't let me down. Come back here and I'll open it while you tell me what's got you all bug-eyed."
Merlin toes off his boots and walks back to the kitchen, dog on his heels, and debates how to explain himself. "So... you know this house," Merlin starts, a few minutes later.
Arthur frowns at him. "Yes?"
"You still-like it, right?"
"I do," Arthur says, slowly.
"Good," Merlin says. "Because, um. It's yours."
"I know."
"No, I mean. Officially. You own it. Again. It's yours."
Arthur blinks. "What?"
Merlin opens his mouth to explain, but thinks better of it, setting the papers on the table instead, and sliding them towards Arthur. Arthur gives Merlin a long, hard look before turning his gaze down to them and reading.
Merlin tries not to fidget.
At length, Arthur looks up at him. "You've-" he says, and stops, closing his eyes, and then opening them again incredulously. "You've had me declared my own great-great grandson."
"Mmm-hmm," Merlin replies, brightly. "It wasn't even hard. I was expecting all sorts of red tape, but I only had to fake about ten documents, in the end."
Arthur frowns.
"Honestly, the hardest part was coming up with the marriage and birth certificates to prove that you weren't the bachelor everyone thought you were when you died. After that, connecting the dots from that baby to you was easy."
Arthur frowns harder. "Why would I have kept a wife and child a secret?"
"Because you knew your father wouldn't approve of the match, of course. And you didn't trust him not to do something horrible while you were away at sea."
Arthur just continues to look at him, lips pursed. Merlin frowns. "You don't like it," he says.
Arthur opens and closes his mouth before answering, "Have you just cheated some relative of mine out of his rightful property?"
Merlin rolls his eyes. "Some very distant relative who probably hasn't set foot in this hemisphere, let alone on this property, for at least fifty years. They clearly don't care-they signed the papers relinquishing their claim without so much as a peep."
Arthur raises an eyebrow.
"I'm sorry, I just-I think it's ridiculous that we're continuing to pay rent on a house that you built with your own two hands."
"I didn't, actually. I had help. All I did was pay people."
"Same difference," Merlin says, laughing. "It's your house, Arthur. You don't have anything from your life before-you should at least have this."
Arthur sighs, and looks back down at the signed papers on the table. "Our house," he says, quietly, after a minute. "I'm fairly certain I built it for us."
When he looks back at Merlin, he's smiling, and Merlin beams and is so, so glad he can do this again, just kiss Arthur whenever he wants, without any magic aforethought.
"Thank you," Arthur says.
Merlin grins. "We meet with the illustrious Mr Coombe tomorrow, to void the rental agreement. He'll be so pleased to finally meet you."
"Oh god, that poor man," Arthur says. "I really did put him through the wringer, didn't I?"
Merlin laughs, and pulls him in for another wine-flavoured kiss.
♦♦♦
Merlin stretches awake and blinks against morning sunlight, bright on the few yellow leaves still clinging to the tree out the window. He turns his head and looks up at Arthur, who's propped up against the headboard, reading on his laptop.
"Happy birthday," Merlin says, voice sleep-rough.
Arthur looks down at him, sidelong. "It's not my birthday," he replies.
"It sort of is."
"You say that every year."
"D'you feel older?"
"Every minute spent talking to you ages me, Merlin."
Merlin grins. "Anything important happening in the world?" he asks, gesturing at the computer as he stretches a second time and then pushes himself up to sitting, knocking his shoulder against Arthur's.
"Nothing new," Arthur replies. "Would you like?" He offers the laptop.
Merlin shakes his head. "I will take one of those, though," he says, noticing the two mugs on the nightstand next to Arthur, steaming and smelling delicious.
Arthur sets the computer aside, and hands one over.
"Thanks," Merlin says, nuzzling close and allowing himself a bit of a soppy moment to just stare at the side of Arthur's face, enjoying having him so close. "Oh!" he says, a moment later, and his face splits into a grin. "Will you look at that!"
"What are you-what?" Arthur says, as Merlin reaches up to his temple and plucks out a hair. "Ow!" he moans.
"You're going grey," Merlin announces, triumphantly, holding the hair up to the light.
Arthur frowns. "Aren't you supposed to be nice to me on my birthday?"
"It's only sort of your birthday. And besides, this is wonderful."
"Is it?"
"Yes. I-well," Merlin pauses, a little embarrassed. "I've been a bit worried that we might have gone overboard, and you were gonna go all Jack Harkness on me, and we'd find ourselves with the opposite problem to what we had before."
Arthur looks at him, brow furrowed, and then huffs a laugh. "And you accuse me of being arrogant."
Merlin cocks his head. "I-what?"
"While all the while here you are, thinking your magic equal to all the power of the time vortex."
Merlin blinks at him, then turns his head away. "I think I liked you better when you didn't understand my pop culture references."
"Well that's your own fault, isn't it?" Arthur says, nosing at Merlin's cheek.
"Yeah, yeah," Merlin says, and takes a sip of his coffee.
"So, I've been thinking," he announces, several minutes later, "and I've decided that we both ought to take some time off next summer."
"Oh?" Arthur asks.
"I know it's your busiest time at the hotel, but Leon proved himself a competent assistant manager this summer, yeah? So maybe he could handle a few weeks without you next year."
Arthur smirks at him. "You've thought this through, I see. What is it you have in mind?"
"Well," Merlin says, smiling a bit, "it's just an idea, but-hand me the computer?" Arthur does, and Merlin pulls up a large, beautiful picture from his email.
"What is that?" Arthur asks, hesitant.
"Your birthday present," Merlin says, into his shoulder.
Arthur doesn't move.
"I had to find something to do with all that money I never had to spend on a mortgage."
"Are you serious?"
"Yes," Merlin says, grinning. "I thought we could sail her somewhere in the summertime. Somewhere north, maybe? Where the sun doesn't set? Or-" but Arthur kisses him before he can offer any more ideas.
Later, computer and coffee cups long abandoned on the nightstand, Arthur rests his sweaty forehead against Merlin's, just breathing.
"Do you ever wonder," he says, "if it's all too good to be true? If this body is remarkably durable, but still just-not quite real? And one day I'll disappear, be gone for decades?"
Merlin closes his eyes. "It's occurred to me," he says quietly.
Arthur doesn't say anything.
"I'd wait for you," Merlin says, answering the unasked question. "Find you in my next life, if it took that long. And we'd try again."
Arthur's hand finds Merlin's, somewhere off to the side, and their fingers tangle together.
"And in the meantime," Merlin says, "it looks like you're finally gonna have to teach me how to sail," and Arthur laughs.
♦♦♦
[epilogue: another hundred or so years later]
Merlin's ears finally pop as he emerges from the Underground station and into the morning's gentle rain. He really ought to start looking for a flat closer to the city, he thinks-all this time in the maglev vacuum tubes is wreaking havoc on his sinuses.
Side-stepping something unsavoury on the pavement, he ducks into the coffee shop a few steps away, on the ground floor of the office building whose windows often reflect sunlight into his eyes while he's working at the hospital across the street.
He waits in line, reading headlines over the shoulder of the woman in front of him to pass the time.
Just as she's paying for her order, the side door of the shop opens, and a blond man in an exquisite charcoal grey business suit steps in, dress shoes clicking against the tiles. Merlin lets his eyes drift over the flawless hang of his trousers, the gleaming leather of his belt, and the impeccable knot of his tie underneath an adam's apple that sets Merlin licking at his own teeth, for some reason.
"Hello, the usual," the man says, imperiously, to the employee behind the counter.
Merlin frowns. "Um, hi," he says. "There's a line? Some of us have been waiting in it?"
"Some of us don't have to," the man answers, without looking at him.
Merlin balks. "Oh right, because some of us are so much more important."
"It'll just be a moment longer," the man says. "I'm sure you'll survive."
"Wow, you're an ass."
The man looks at him, disdainfully. "Good lord, fine, order yours as well, and I'll pay for it as reparation for your hardship."
"Not bloody likely!" Merlin snaps. "I'm not bought off that easily."
"Steady yourself, it's just coffee."
"And you're just a self-satisfied, overly-entitled prat."
"Maybe it's time you switched to decaf," the man says, pressing his thumb to the pay screen and accepting his cup from the barista.
Merlin sneers at him and pointedly does not watch his perfectly tailored ass march out the side door and back into the office building's lobby.
Caffeine in hand a few minutes later, Merlin steps out onto the pavement and heads for the pedestrian crossing. The rain has stopped, for now, and the clock on the side of the hospital indicates that Merlin's going to make it to work a few minutes early, so things are starting to look up, for a Monday.
As he waits at the crossing for a break in the traffic, Merlin hears a familiar voice behind him, and turns to see the same well-heeled twat from the coffee shop storming up to the curb, hissing angrily into an unseen earpiece.
"Bring the car round immediately," the man orders of whatever poor soul's on the other end of the line. "Morgana's had the meeting moved without telling me and if I'm not there in the next five fucking minutes, she'll have this whole deal ripped right out from under me."
Merlin smirks, noticing the man's left his coffee behind somewhere, in his rush. "Good thing you stopped for coffee," he says, sarcastic, when the man stops ranting.
The man looks up, surprised. "Who even are you?" he says, after a moment. "And what will it take to get you to shut up?"
Merlin rolls his eyes. "Don't bother yourself being civil, I'm nobody. Just a person. Just the idiot whose sorry lot it was to cross your path this morning."
"Well, the idiot part's right," he snaps back, and Merlin suppresses the urge to pour his coffee down the front of the man's stupidly beautiful suit.
It happens very quickly, as these things tend to do: there's a squeal of tires over wet road, and a crunch of metal followed by a hair-raising scrape as a city bus swerves and side-swipes a taxi, which comes barrelling up onto the curb, and if Merlin's magic pulls the supercilious bastard out of the way a fraction of a moment before Merlin's hand quite gets there, there's enough chaos in the moment that neither of them really notices.
Or, at least, that's what they'll both pretend. For a while.
♦♦♦
Author: shes_gone
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: ~25,000
Summary: Merlin's life in London is a bit of a mess: his career trapped somewhere between student and professional, his love life trapped in a relationship gone sour, and most days he feels physically trapped in the tiny, shared flat he can't afford to move out of-until an unexpected opportunity sends him packing for the coast. There, he meets someone who might be in a even worse fix than he is: Arthur, a Victorian-era sea captain who's trapped, a bit literally, between life and death, and who refuses to leave the house he died in over a hundred years ago.
Warnings: I suppose I need to warn for major character death, but, like. Only sort of. Trust me? :D
Part One || Part Two
♦♦♦
"Bloody fucking Christ," Merlin says, feeling the shock all the way down to his toes.
"Merlin, language!" Gaius chides.
"Sorry. Feeling a bit overwhelmed."
"All right, now. All right. You can let go."
"Don't think I can, actually."
"Sure you can. Just-yes, there you go. All right," Gaius says, as Merlin manages to unwrap his arms from around the old man's neck.
"I don't understand," Merlin says, collapsing into a chair. "Why couldn't I remember you before? Could you-have you known this whole time?"
"I don't pretend to understand any of this, Merlin," Gaius says, shaking his head. "Reincarnation magic-if magic is really all this is-is well and truly above my pay grade." Merlin gives a weak chuckle. "And, no, I also only remembered our shared past relatively recently. A couple of months ago."
"What made you remember?" Merlin asks. "It took a bit of fairly traumatic déjà vu to make me remember Arthur."
Gaius nods. "That sounds about right. For me, it all came crashing back about fifteen minutes after I walked in on the two of you making doe eyes at one another in my back room."
Merlin can't move for a moment, then sputters. "I-we-there were no doe eyes," he manages. "And that's… hardly traumatic, is it?"
Gaius just raises an eyebrow.
"Oh god," Merlin says, burying his face in his hands and feeling his ears burn.
Gaius chuckles, after letting Merlin squirm for a moment. "Oh, Merlin, it's all right. No need to be embarrassed. Believe me, it looks a lot less ridiculous now than it used to."
Merlin peeks at him miserably through his fingers. "It does?"
Gaius meets his eye. "Well, it's the reason we're all here, isn't it? You two may be a bit... overly earnest, but this is clearly something more than the youthful infatuation I once took it for."
Merlin drops his hands, but feels the heat of his blush rally on. "Suppose so." He pauses. "When you met him, Arthur, did you know that he was-"
"Dead? Not immediately, no. There was something off about his appearance, certainly, but I couldn't place it. Not until I worked out who he really was, and realised he doesn't just look like the boy in that portrait." Gaius turns to his desk and retrieves a small stack of paper. "Now," he says, "let's bring him back to you, shall we?"
Merlin stares at him. "OK, wow. Convincing you was a lot easier than I was expecting," he says.
Gaius chuckles and sets the papers on the table, where Merlin can see they're lined with his familiar handwritten scrawl. "In anticipation of this conversation, I've taken the liberty of doing some research over the past few weeks."
"Oh Gaius," Merlin says, huffing a laugh, "where've you been all my lives?"
Gaius looks at him. "How many have there been?"
"Oh, um," Merlin says, thinking. "Seven, I think, that I remember distinctly. And then there's a bunch of fuzzy bits that I can't quite place. Dunno if they're separate, or-or what."
Gaius blinks, and tilts his head to the side. "Seven," he repeats, after a moment. He shakes his head, as if to clear it. "Right, well, I'd like to hear about that later. For now, though, am I correct in my assumption that all we've got to work with is Arthur's spirit? There's no... body you're attempting to reanimate, correct?"
"No," Merlin says, cringing. "I mean-yes. Correct."
"Good," Gaius says, nodding. "Far too many ways that that can go wrong. On this side of things, though, we may need to get a bit creative, as there's really only one established method of bringing someone back from the spiritual realm, but I'm not sure how effective we're going to find it."
"Because it's a myth?" Merlin asks, wincing a little.
Gaius looks at him, pausing, and sets his papers down on the table. "Were you able to get it to work?" he asks, skipping the unnecessary questions.
"A bit," Merlin says.
Gaius chuckles, almost incredulously, but there's pride in his eyes. "Of course you were," he says, and Merlin ducks his head. "What's 'a bit'?" Gaius asks.
"He comes back," Merlin says, "with a body, but he doesn't stay, obviously. And when the spell's up, he's completely gone, not here even as a spirit, for-well, it's pretty unpredictable for how long."
"The body you give him," Gaius asks, "is it fully functioning?"
Merlin nods. "He's got a heart that beats, he breathes, he blinks, he eats and goes to the bathroom, and... other things. Yeah, he works."
"All right," Gaius says, turning past the first few pages of his notes. "We can skip all this early experimentation, then. Have you been able to identify any variable that affects the strength of the spell? How long it lasts?"
"Nothing very precise," Merlin says.
"With magic like this, it won't be," Gaius assures him. "But there is something?"
"Um, yeah," Merlin says, feeling his ears go hot. He's not sure he can look Gaius in the eye and say that what seems to matter is how much he wants Arthur, at the time he casts the spell.
Gaius holds up a hand. "I'm familiar enough with the theory of this spell that I imagine I don't actually want to know any of the details. So long as you're aware of it, I'm satisfied."
Merlin breathes an embarrassed laugh. "Sounds good," he says.
"All right, let's see," Gaius continues, looking over his notes. "What about timing?" Gaius looks up at him. "Have you worked that one out for yourself as well?"
Merlin looks at him blankly. "Like, time of day? Or how long I cast it for?"
"Ah," Gaius says, smiling, "we stumble upon the reason I'm actually here."
Merlin sits up a bit straighter.
"What this magic does, Merlin, and what you've been successfully doing is pulling Arthur back through the barrier between the world of the living and the world of the dead. He started the process himself: it takes a certain level of strength and determination for a spirit to breach the veil and appear in the physical world at all. Your magic pulls him the rest of the way, bringing him seemingly all the way through, temporarily. The veil never quite lets go, though, and eventually pulls him back to the spiritual world, as you've seen."
Merlin nods.
"The thing about the barrier, though-the veil-is that it doesn't maintain a constant strength. It ebbs and flows a bit over the course of the year, growing stronger and weaker with the cycle of life that follows the seasons."
"This is something I should know, isn’t it?" Merlin says, biting his lip. "If I'd been a better student."
Gaius smiles, and shrugs. "Probably. But if you had, I'm not sure I'd be here, and I've really enjoyed my life this go-round, so consider yourself forgiven."
Merlin grins. "So you think the veil might let him go, when it's weak enough?"
"That's my hope," he answers. "Your magic is very powerful, and his spirit is very strong. Together, when the veil is at its weakest, you might be able to sever his connection to the spiritual world, and anchor him permanently in this one."
"Do you honestly think it's possible?"
Gaius looks at him. "I think that, if ever it would work, it would be the two of you who'd pull it off."
Merlin blinks, and nods, feeling stomach start to twist a little. "So, when? When might the veil be weak enough?"
"The thirty-first of October," Gaius says.
"Halloween?" Merlin asks with a frown.
"Or as it was once more commonly known, Samhain," Gaius answers. "As we progress towards winter, the veil is necessarily thinned with the death of so much plant and animal life. Samhain marks the beginning of the dark half of the year, and the night when the spiritual and physical worlds are at their closest.
"Oh," Merlin says, a bit blankly. "That's... really soon."
Gaius nods. "You've done a great deal of preparation already, though, so I don't think we need fret about that."
"Mmm." Merlin swallows, his stomach tightening, because that's really, really soon.
Gaius frowns, watching him. "Merlin, are you unsure about this?"
"No," Merlin says. "It's just, um. I was expecting this to be the beginning of a long process, and-well. That we'd have more time to sort out all the-" he stops, and looks at his hands. "Gaius, do you think this is something we should be doing at all?" he asks.
Gaius's frown deepens in question.
"Arthur's worried about the-the cost," Merlin explains. "You know, the balance of nature, and all that rot."
"Ah," Gaius says, nodding. "Understandable. Normally, I'd agree with him, and be very cautious of this sort of thing. In this case, however, I think that Arthur's very existence indicates that something is already out of balance. And I suspect that yours and my presence here are a result of nature trying to correct herself."
The knot in Merlin's stomach eases a bit as he turns that over in his mind. "Yeah," he says, "that makes sense." He breathes for a moment, and then nods with conviction. "All right. So, is there anything we need to do now besides... wait?"
Gaius shakes his head. "Not that I can see. I should think you'll want to be careful about casting the spell again before Samhain, with it being as unpredictable as it is. I'd hate for him to miss it."
"Oh god," Merlin mutters, because he knows Gaius is right. "That's going to go over well."
♦♦♦
"You are an ass," Arthur barks, bursting out of the house and into the garden.
Merlin blinks at him, rake stilling in his hand. "Sorry?" he says, innocently.
Arthur crosses his arms over his chest. "I worked out how to click on the related videos."
Merlin ducks his head to hide his grin. "Did you?"
"You must think you are terribly funny."
"Your telekinesis comes in handy at the worst moments, you know," Merlin replies.
Arthur glares at him. "You've been mocking me for days."
"I haven't! Not really. Enjoying, perhaps, but not mocking."
"Liar! You let me prance around like a bloody-lord only knows what man was-while actively deceiving me into thinking that I was doing something useful. 'Oh, Arthur, here's this magically relevant ritualistic dance you should learn. It'll make it easier to slide through the veil if you do it backwards.' Well! I know all about Michael Jackson now, and his bloody moonwalk, and you can sod right the hell off."
It's still funny, of course, but there's a trace of desperation in Arthur's voice that plucks up a bit of guilt in Merlin's chest. "Arthur, you were driving me mad. I had to give you something to keep you busy."
Arthur scowls and looks away. "I just," he says at length, "I can't stand all this waiting."
Merlin sighs. "I know," he says. If there's one thing Arthur has never been suited to, in all the lifetimes that Merlin has known him, it's inaction. He's been prowling around the cottage for the last two weeks, his impatience and anxiety and restlessness palpable.
"D'you wanna help me rake these leaves?" Merlin asks.
Arthur frowns. "No. How would that help? And why are you doing that by hand, anyway? Just use your magic."
Merlin shrugs. "Because you're not the only one who needs something to do to pass the time."
"I know something that would pass the time," Arthur says. "That we could both do."
"Arthur, no. I told you, I'm not casting the spell again until Samhain."
"But that's ages from now. I'm sure I would be back in time."
"Well, I'm not," Merlin says, resolutely. "It's never been that predictable, and-well, that's that."
Arthur sighs heavily, turning his eyes skyward.
"You know I'd speed time up if I could," Merlin says, gently.
"Why can't you?" Arthur says, the very picture of petulance. "Why is your magic such utter rubbish?"
"Thanks," Merlin says, rolling his eyes.
Arthur crosses his arms over his chest and sighs, settling in against the fence to watch Merlin rake for a while. "Do you think this is going to work?" he asks, quietly, several minutes later.
Merlin looks at him. "I don't know," he says frankly. "I hope so."
"And if it doesn't?"
"Then we'll try again next year. And keep looking for anything else to try in the meantime."
"Like what?"
Merlin sighs. "I don't know. Let's just focus on this, for now."
"Focus on what?" Arthur asks.
"Raking these leaves, for a start," Merlin snaps.
Arthur scowls.
"Fine," Merlin says, rolling his eyes. "Can you lift that saw?"
Arthur looks at the old handsaw resting next to the garden path. It takes him a minute to work it out, but soon he's got it hovering in the air, sliding back and forth in a sawing motion. "Impressed?" he asks, grinning.
"Deeply," Merlin replies, flatly. "Now, how about you go saw off that branch that keeps knocking the parlour window? And then cut it up for firewood."
Arthur frowns. "Do people still do that? Aren't we living in an age that has moved past chopping firewood?"
"You're not," Merlin says, giving him a look. "Not yet, anyway. So go chop. If you finish without complaining, I'll... give you a reward later."
Arthur's eyes narrow. "Like what?"
"Like... I dunno. I'm sure I could think of something to show you, that you might like." Merlin tilts his head, eyeing him suggestively.
Arthur looks at him, mouth drawn tight. "Not fair," he says. "Not while you leave me stuck like this."
"It's a cruel world," Merlin says, smirking.
Arthur rolls his eyes, but trudges around the side of the house in pursuit of the offending tree branch.
Merlin watches him and then goes back to raking, enjoying the rhythm and exertion of the physical work. Something like five minutes pass before a crisp, dried leaf flies up at him out of nowhere, smacking him on the forehead. He purses his lips, glaring at the pile of leaves, and then gets hit by another. And another.
"Oh, you want to play that game, do you?" he says, and he's got the whole pile of leaves in the air, swirling into a massive ball aimed directly at Arthur's head in mere moments.
The resulting leaf fight leaves bits of leaf in Merlin's hair that he finds on the pillow hours later, long after he comes into his hand with Arthur's eyes pinned to him, as heavy and as heated as though they were actually there.
♦♦♦
Samhain dawns as a bright, crisp Sunday morning, nothing at all suggesting that the spiritual world will be as close as it's ever been, come nightfall.
Merlin sits at the kitchen table, stomach in knots. He's no stranger to important days-he's lived through plenty, over the course of his many lifetimes. And he was nervous for every single one, regardless of what he might have admitted to Arthur at the time. There were days he followed Arthur into battle, and nights spent by his sickbed, administering tonics and potions and magic, just hoping. There was the first time he ever told Arthur about his magic.
He closes his eyes and sinks into that memory, the terror of waiting for Arthur's reaction still enough to set his heart beating faster, centuries later. That one worked out all right, he reminds himself.
Merlin glances out the kitchen window at the sun, which isn't any higher than it was the last time he looked.
"So what would you like to do today?" Arthur asks, the levity in his voice ringing false.
Merlin huffs a humourless laugh. "Speed up time," he says.
"Honestly, how was that not the first think you learnt to do, when you worked out you were a wizard?"
"Sorry," Merlin says, weakly.
Arthur sighs, and a few minutes later, "Right, but seriously, what do you want to do today? We have to find something. I can't just sit here watching you fidget."
"Um," Merlin says. The house is clean, the yard tidied, the bills paid. Dinner's already prepared, sitting in the fridge. "We could go into town," he says. "See a film, while you can still sneak in without paying."
It's a nice day for the walk, and it kills a few hours, anyway, and gives them something to talk about.
Back at home, Merlin tries not to count every loud tick of the clock in the parlour until Arthur finally gives up, bolting up off the sofa. "I'm sorry," he says. "I have to-I can't just sit here. I need to-go."
"Where?"
Arthur shakes his head. "I don't know. I'll be back in time, I just-is that all right?"
Merlin manages a small nod.
Hours later, the sun is low and glittering off the water, and Merlin spots Arthur sitting on the browning grass just outside the garden, back against the fence, eyes out on the water. The gate clicks softly closed when Merlin joins him, sitting down shoulder to shoulder without a word.
"Are you nervous?" Arthur asks him, after a minute, and Merlin smiles.
"Yes," he answers. "I feel like I should be dressing you for battle or something."
Arthur gives a small laugh, and looks at Merlin before turning his gaze to his knees, propped up in front of him.
"Nothing we haven't done before, though, right?" Merlin says. "A little magic, a little sex. Old hat."
Arthur smiles weakly without looking at him.
Merlin swallows. "You do want this, right? I mean, you believe me about the balance and everything? You're not costing anyone anything, I promise."
"I do," Arthur says.
"But something's wrong."
"I just-Merlin, you've been so-I don't want you to think that-" Arthur starts, stops.
Merlin watches him, his eyes remarkably blue in the last of the day's sunlight even if they don't catch it quite right, and waits.
"If this doesn't work, Merlin," Arthur says, "it's all right. I'm all right," and Merlin's heart squeezes up tight inside his chest. Arthur looks right at him, not quite calm, but quiet. "And you should know that I wouldn't change anything. Nothing that we've-not any of it. I love you."
Merlin's breath catches high in his chest, and burns behind his eyes. "God, you-idiot," he says, and can't stop himself leaning in close, too soon, before he's done any magic at all, and when his nose knocks against the place where Arthur's cheek should be, he almost thinks he can feel it.
It takes him a moment to realise that he can.
He rears back an inch with a startled breath, because he felt it, not quite solid but definitely there, and Arthur's blinking back at him with shocked eyes.
"Could you-" Arthur asks.
"Yeah," Merlin says, voice high. "Could you?"
Arthur nods. "Did you already-?"
Merlin shakes his head no. They stare at each other, frozen, the space between them full of questions, until Merlin leans in close again, just nudging the tip of Arthur's nose with his own. It's there, not quite pressing back against Merlin's, but there, and Merlin thinks he can feel the tiniest ghosting of breath against his lips.
He brings a hand up to Arthur's face, drags his fingertips over an almost-there jaw, and he's not thinking about strength of spirit or veils between worlds or life or death or destiny or anything at all except Arthur as he breathes the familiar words.
He says them again, later, depositing them inside Arthur's mouth, and again against his shoulder, and again over his heart, into the arch of his foot and along the upwards strain of his cock.
He says them while Arthur fucks him, and again while he fucks Arthur, every thrust of his hips another stitch in Arthur's soul, pinning him here, right here to this bed, securely enough to stay.
♦♦♦
Merlin wakes up to Arthur's mouth on his cock, as the first hints of daylight are filtering in through the window, and he can't help but say the spell again. Arthur hears him and chuckles, the hum of it reverberating through Merlin's entire body.
"Once more for luck?" Arthur says some number of minutes later, as the sun rises and Merlin can taste his own come on Arthur's tongue, and Merlin does say it again, because he's never been very good at refusing Arthur anything, and he sees no reason to start now.
"Do you think that did it?" Merlin asks between kisses.
"Mmm," Arthur says.
"Is that a yes?"
"Hope so."
"Do you feel different?"
Arthur pauses to think, before kissing Merlin again. "Honestly, not really."
Merlin frowns. "Not at all?"
Arthur shrugs. "Same as all the other times."
Merlin blinks, and tries not to feel discouraged. "Are you sure?" he asks.
"Would you rather I lied?"
"I'd rather you were a... touch more encouraging."
"Mmm, I could try to be," Arthur says, and kisses him, "but that would take too much time away from kissing you."
Merlin sighs as Arthur's lips close over his again, warm and wet and slow. "Fair enough," he agrees.
♦♦♦
It's a different kind of waiting, now. Waiting for something they hope won't happen. Waiting for something they're trying not to wait for.
Weeks go by, and Arthur stays solid, real, alive by any definition Merlin can come up with, and every day it gets a little bit easier to believe he might actually stay that way. It's hard to know what to do, though, how to make any sort of plans, without really knowing.
Merlin comes home one day in mid-December to find Arthur chopping firewood in the back, finally having cut down the branch that's been threatening to break the parlour window for months.
Merlin watches him in silence for a while, enjoying each visible cloud of breath and the beads of sweat on his forehead, and the way each swing of the axe reminds him a little of the hours he once spent watching Arthur train with his sword.
Eventually, Arthur notices him. "Hi," he says, breath a bit laboured from the exertion.
"Hi," Merlin says.
"You been there long?"
"Not really," Merlin answers. "I like watching you do chores." Arthur rolls his eyes. "What brought this on?"
"It's my tree, isn't it?" Arthur shrugs. "I should take care of it."
Merlin smiles. "Yeah, I suppose it is." After a few moments, "So, my exam results came in," and Arthur looks up. "I passed. It's official. I'm fully qualified, and I'll be staying on with Gaius for-well, indefinitely."
Arthur hoots and drops the axe, jogging over to Merlin with a huge, beautiful smile. "Congratulations," he says, when he's close.
Merlin grins and kisses him, and, fuck, this feels normal. Like they're just two people making a life together, without anything other-worldly hanging over their heads.
♦♦♦
"I don't understand, you've not said anything about my clothes before," Arthur gripes.
"Well, in the winter, it wasn't as noticeable. A winter coat's a winter coat. Beachwear, on the other hand, has changed rather drastically over the last century. We don't you scaring the children." Merlin grabs a few different pairs of swim trunks off the shelf. "These should fit, but go try one on just to be certain," he says, pointing out the fitting room. "I'm going to find you a pair of thongs."
Arthur eyes the shorts in his hand warily, but does as he's told.
"All right, that should do it," Merlin announces, half an hour later. "I think we've got you fully kitted out." Arthur eyes the t-shirts and shorts, the strappy footwear, and Merlin smiles to himself, imagining him as the strapping sailing instructor that all the town's visiting grandchildren are inevitably going to fall in love with.
Arthur, though, doesn't look particularly satisfied.
"You're not nervous, are you?" Merlin asks.
"No."
"They're just children, Arthur."
"I know, it's fine. That's not-it's fine."
"Not what? What's wrong?"
"Don't you think I need anything a bit more... respectable?"
"This is perfectly respectable now, I promise."
"For when I am out on the water, yes, I believe you, but-I've been thinking about it, and I have a few other things that I'd like to discuss with the manager. A few ideas for improving the place, I mean. But I can't go to a meeting with her dressed in these," he says, gesturing to the swimwear.
Merlin grins. "Already full of grand ideas, are you?"
Arthur blinks at him, and looks away as his cheeks stain a bit pink. "I shouldn't, should I? I won't be anyone to her, just some low-grade summer employee. It would be completely inappropriate."
"It wouldn't," Merlin says, encouraging. "Just-maybe wait until you've been there for a few weeks, and then be careful not to insult anyone, and you'll be fine."
"Is there any point, though? Will they listen to me?"
"When have you ever had trouble getting people to listen to you, Arthur?" Merlin says, chuckling. "Come on, let's find you something a bit more buttoned up."
♦♦♦
Merlin hurries into the house and pulls the door shut as quick as he can, teeth chattering against the cold. Cabal, the large Springer Spaniel Arthur insisted on adopting last spring, comes loping out from the kitchen to greet him, and Merlin pulls off his mittens to rub the dog's ears while his fingers warm up.
The envelope he just pulled out of the letterbox is large and official-looking, and demands his attention, to Cabal's disappointment. With a twist of nerves, Merlin tears it open.
"Merlin?" Arthur calls from the kitchen. "Did you remember the wine? It's cold as tits, and you finished the whiskey last night."
Merlin doesn't answer, eyes scanning the papers. "Oh my god," he murmurs.
Arthur's head appears down the hall, peering through the open door. "Merlin?"
"I can't believe it worked," he mumbles to himself.
"Everything all right?" Arthur asks.
Merlin blinks at the papers, then up at Arthur. "Yeah," he says. "Yeah, um. How would you feel about a belated Christmas present?"
"Is it alcohol?"
"No."
"Hmm, not terribly likely I'm going to be interested, then, honestly."
Merlin rolls his eyes, and shoves a hand into the satchel still hanging from his shoulder. "Here, pillock," he says, producing a bottle of red wine.
Arthur beams. "Knew you wouldn't let me down. Come back here and I'll open it while you tell me what's got you all bug-eyed."
Merlin toes off his boots and walks back to the kitchen, dog on his heels, and debates how to explain himself. "So... you know this house," Merlin starts, a few minutes later.
Arthur frowns at him. "Yes?"
"You still-like it, right?"
"I do," Arthur says, slowly.
"Good," Merlin says. "Because, um. It's yours."
"I know."
"No, I mean. Officially. You own it. Again. It's yours."
Arthur blinks. "What?"
Merlin opens his mouth to explain, but thinks better of it, setting the papers on the table instead, and sliding them towards Arthur. Arthur gives Merlin a long, hard look before turning his gaze down to them and reading.
Merlin tries not to fidget.
At length, Arthur looks up at him. "You've-" he says, and stops, closing his eyes, and then opening them again incredulously. "You've had me declared my own great-great grandson."
"Mmm-hmm," Merlin replies, brightly. "It wasn't even hard. I was expecting all sorts of red tape, but I only had to fake about ten documents, in the end."
Arthur frowns.
"Honestly, the hardest part was coming up with the marriage and birth certificates to prove that you weren't the bachelor everyone thought you were when you died. After that, connecting the dots from that baby to you was easy."
Arthur frowns harder. "Why would I have kept a wife and child a secret?"
"Because you knew your father wouldn't approve of the match, of course. And you didn't trust him not to do something horrible while you were away at sea."
Arthur just continues to look at him, lips pursed. Merlin frowns. "You don't like it," he says.
Arthur opens and closes his mouth before answering, "Have you just cheated some relative of mine out of his rightful property?"
Merlin rolls his eyes. "Some very distant relative who probably hasn't set foot in this hemisphere, let alone on this property, for at least fifty years. They clearly don't care-they signed the papers relinquishing their claim without so much as a peep."
Arthur raises an eyebrow.
"I'm sorry, I just-I think it's ridiculous that we're continuing to pay rent on a house that you built with your own two hands."
"I didn't, actually. I had help. All I did was pay people."
"Same difference," Merlin says, laughing. "It's your house, Arthur. You don't have anything from your life before-you should at least have this."
Arthur sighs, and looks back down at the signed papers on the table. "Our house," he says, quietly, after a minute. "I'm fairly certain I built it for us."
When he looks back at Merlin, he's smiling, and Merlin beams and is so, so glad he can do this again, just kiss Arthur whenever he wants, without any magic aforethought.
"Thank you," Arthur says.
Merlin grins. "We meet with the illustrious Mr Coombe tomorrow, to void the rental agreement. He'll be so pleased to finally meet you."
"Oh god, that poor man," Arthur says. "I really did put him through the wringer, didn't I?"
Merlin laughs, and pulls him in for another wine-flavoured kiss.
♦♦♦
Merlin stretches awake and blinks against morning sunlight, bright on the few yellow leaves still clinging to the tree out the window. He turns his head and looks up at Arthur, who's propped up against the headboard, reading on his laptop.
"Happy birthday," Merlin says, voice sleep-rough.
Arthur looks down at him, sidelong. "It's not my birthday," he replies.
"It sort of is."
"You say that every year."
"D'you feel older?"
"Every minute spent talking to you ages me, Merlin."
Merlin grins. "Anything important happening in the world?" he asks, gesturing at the computer as he stretches a second time and then pushes himself up to sitting, knocking his shoulder against Arthur's.
"Nothing new," Arthur replies. "Would you like?" He offers the laptop.
Merlin shakes his head. "I will take one of those, though," he says, noticing the two mugs on the nightstand next to Arthur, steaming and smelling delicious.
Arthur sets the computer aside, and hands one over.
"Thanks," Merlin says, nuzzling close and allowing himself a bit of a soppy moment to just stare at the side of Arthur's face, enjoying having him so close. "Oh!" he says, a moment later, and his face splits into a grin. "Will you look at that!"
"What are you-what?" Arthur says, as Merlin reaches up to his temple and plucks out a hair. "Ow!" he moans.
"You're going grey," Merlin announces, triumphantly, holding the hair up to the light.
Arthur frowns. "Aren't you supposed to be nice to me on my birthday?"
"It's only sort of your birthday. And besides, this is wonderful."
"Is it?"
"Yes. I-well," Merlin pauses, a little embarrassed. "I've been a bit worried that we might have gone overboard, and you were gonna go all Jack Harkness on me, and we'd find ourselves with the opposite problem to what we had before."
Arthur looks at him, brow furrowed, and then huffs a laugh. "And you accuse me of being arrogant."
Merlin cocks his head. "I-what?"
"While all the while here you are, thinking your magic equal to all the power of the time vortex."
Merlin blinks at him, then turns his head away. "I think I liked you better when you didn't understand my pop culture references."
"Well that's your own fault, isn't it?" Arthur says, nosing at Merlin's cheek.
"Yeah, yeah," Merlin says, and takes a sip of his coffee.
"So, I've been thinking," he announces, several minutes later, "and I've decided that we both ought to take some time off next summer."
"Oh?" Arthur asks.
"I know it's your busiest time at the hotel, but Leon proved himself a competent assistant manager this summer, yeah? So maybe he could handle a few weeks without you next year."
Arthur smirks at him. "You've thought this through, I see. What is it you have in mind?"
"Well," Merlin says, smiling a bit, "it's just an idea, but-hand me the computer?" Arthur does, and Merlin pulls up a large, beautiful picture from his email.
"What is that?" Arthur asks, hesitant.
"Your birthday present," Merlin says, into his shoulder.
Arthur doesn't move.
"I had to find something to do with all that money I never had to spend on a mortgage."
"Are you serious?"
"Yes," Merlin says, grinning. "I thought we could sail her somewhere in the summertime. Somewhere north, maybe? Where the sun doesn't set? Or-" but Arthur kisses him before he can offer any more ideas.
Later, computer and coffee cups long abandoned on the nightstand, Arthur rests his sweaty forehead against Merlin's, just breathing.
"Do you ever wonder," he says, "if it's all too good to be true? If this body is remarkably durable, but still just-not quite real? And one day I'll disappear, be gone for decades?"
Merlin closes his eyes. "It's occurred to me," he says quietly.
Arthur doesn't say anything.
"I'd wait for you," Merlin says, answering the unasked question. "Find you in my next life, if it took that long. And we'd try again."
Arthur's hand finds Merlin's, somewhere off to the side, and their fingers tangle together.
"And in the meantime," Merlin says, "it looks like you're finally gonna have to teach me how to sail," and Arthur laughs.
♦♦♦
[epilogue: another hundred or so years later]
Merlin's ears finally pop as he emerges from the Underground station and into the morning's gentle rain. He really ought to start looking for a flat closer to the city, he thinks-all this time in the maglev vacuum tubes is wreaking havoc on his sinuses.
Side-stepping something unsavoury on the pavement, he ducks into the coffee shop a few steps away, on the ground floor of the office building whose windows often reflect sunlight into his eyes while he's working at the hospital across the street.
He waits in line, reading headlines over the shoulder of the woman in front of him to pass the time.
Just as she's paying for her order, the side door of the shop opens, and a blond man in an exquisite charcoal grey business suit steps in, dress shoes clicking against the tiles. Merlin lets his eyes drift over the flawless hang of his trousers, the gleaming leather of his belt, and the impeccable knot of his tie underneath an adam's apple that sets Merlin licking at his own teeth, for some reason.
"Hello, the usual," the man says, imperiously, to the employee behind the counter.
Merlin frowns. "Um, hi," he says. "There's a line? Some of us have been waiting in it?"
"Some of us don't have to," the man answers, without looking at him.
Merlin balks. "Oh right, because some of us are so much more important."
"It'll just be a moment longer," the man says. "I'm sure you'll survive."
"Wow, you're an ass."
The man looks at him, disdainfully. "Good lord, fine, order yours as well, and I'll pay for it as reparation for your hardship."
"Not bloody likely!" Merlin snaps. "I'm not bought off that easily."
"Steady yourself, it's just coffee."
"And you're just a self-satisfied, overly-entitled prat."
"Maybe it's time you switched to decaf," the man says, pressing his thumb to the pay screen and accepting his cup from the barista.
Merlin sneers at him and pointedly does not watch his perfectly tailored ass march out the side door and back into the office building's lobby.
Caffeine in hand a few minutes later, Merlin steps out onto the pavement and heads for the pedestrian crossing. The rain has stopped, for now, and the clock on the side of the hospital indicates that Merlin's going to make it to work a few minutes early, so things are starting to look up, for a Monday.
As he waits at the crossing for a break in the traffic, Merlin hears a familiar voice behind him, and turns to see the same well-heeled twat from the coffee shop storming up to the curb, hissing angrily into an unseen earpiece.
"Bring the car round immediately," the man orders of whatever poor soul's on the other end of the line. "Morgana's had the meeting moved without telling me and if I'm not there in the next five fucking minutes, she'll have this whole deal ripped right out from under me."
Merlin smirks, noticing the man's left his coffee behind somewhere, in his rush. "Good thing you stopped for coffee," he says, sarcastic, when the man stops ranting.
The man looks up, surprised. "Who even are you?" he says, after a moment. "And what will it take to get you to shut up?"
Merlin rolls his eyes. "Don't bother yourself being civil, I'm nobody. Just a person. Just the idiot whose sorry lot it was to cross your path this morning."
"Well, the idiot part's right," he snaps back, and Merlin suppresses the urge to pour his coffee down the front of the man's stupidly beautiful suit.
It happens very quickly, as these things tend to do: there's a squeal of tires over wet road, and a crunch of metal followed by a hair-raising scrape as a city bus swerves and side-swipes a taxi, which comes barrelling up onto the curb, and if Merlin's magic pulls the supercilious bastard out of the way a fraction of a moment before Merlin's hand quite gets there, there's enough chaos in the moment that neither of them really notices.
Or, at least, that's what they'll both pretend. For a while.
♦♦♦