Paperlegends: Last Turn of the Spiral (Part Four)

[ficbyjane]

Merlin closes the door quietly and just barely resists sliding down to the floor. He studies his hands in a detached manner, watching them tremble. It’s a form of shock, he knows, a delayed reaction to all of the things he hasn’t been able to process over the past few hours.

“Merlin? Are you all right?” He takes a deep breath and forces himself to look up, to meet Arthur’s concerned gaze.

“I’m - okay. I’m fine. It’s just - an adrenalin dump. Delayed - shock. I’ll be fine in a minute.”

Arthur nods, and Merlin anchors himself in the steady blue of his eyes.

“Do you want me to stay with you?”

Merlin nods, and breathes out softly when Arthur takes his hands, rubbing over them with his own warm fingers.

“You really do have it bad, don’t you, Merlin? You never do things the easy way.”

Arthur’s tone is light and teasing, and so familiar that Merlin can feel his heart rate slowing and his hands easing under the care of his friend’s ministrations.

“Well,” he says, pleased that his voice is close to steady. “Where’s the fun in that?”

Arthur laughs at that, before biting his lip and glancing at the closed door.

“He’s asleep,” Merlin says quietly. “He’ll be tired, for a while. But, like Lance says, he’s young, so he’ll heal quickly.”

Arthur nods and holds out his hand. “Well, come on then. You should have something to eat while you can.”

Mordred wrenches awake so suddenly that for a moment all he can hear is the roar of his pulse thumping through his ears. The room he’s in is dark, and for a sick moment he wonders if he’s fallen asleep beside some punter.

No, he thinks shaking his head to try and clear it. That’s not right. He sits up carefully, aware of … someone sleeping beside him.

Freya, he realises as his eyes adjust to the dark, and the most recent events fall into place in his mind. He raises a shaking hand and pushes it through his hair, glancing to his side as something catches his eye. Merlin is sprawled out in an armchair, his head tilted back, sound asleep.

Mordred bites his lip at the sight, and frowns as he quietly scoots back until he’s sitting up, resting against the headboard. He feels different, and that’s not quite right, but it’s the best he’s got for now. He knows it’s because of Lance removing his Shunt, and as irrational as it is, he feels a little bit like his arm has been cut off.

All he can feel, now, is the absence of things: the absence of the ever-present slight tug of the Shunt in his arm; the push/pull need for another pop and another pop, and the driving desire for -

Mordred pushes his hand through his hair and takes a deep breath. He’s not being monitored now, otherwise the medScreen would wake up Freya and Merlin with how damn fast his heart is racing.

He needs. He needs to get out of here so he can think.

Slowly and silently, he slides out of the bed. Someone has put him in too-big sweatpants and an equally too-big t-shirt, which just about hang off him. Sighing, Mordred clutches at the drawstring on the pants and slowly makes his way out of the bedroom.

He pauses outside the door, not sure which way he’s going. Not down the hallway further, he thinks - that will likely lead to more bedrooms, and he needs - he needs to think.

Hesitantly, Mordred turns the other way, and soon steps into a large living area. He pauses there, undecided still. He could, he could leave, he could. Just. Just, go now. Freya and Gareth are all right, clearly; Merlin and his friends will take care of Freya, and Gareth has his brother …

“You all right there Mordred?”

Mordred jumps and claps a hand over his mouth to stop the shout that wants to burst through.

“Fuck, you scared me!”

“Sorry. But are you okay? You need anything?”

Gwaine, Mordred thinks then. It’s just Gwaine. He takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly.

“No, I was just - I woke up suddenly and I’m just - there’s a lot in my head?”

Gwaine nods, and tilts his head, his gaze steady and considering.

“Yeah, I bet there is. Well, no need to go around waking everyone up. Come on, I’ll make you some tea or something. Sound good?”

Gwaine starts walking and Mordred falls in behind him without thinking about what he’s really doing. He glances at the sofa in the middle of the living room, half-smiling when he sees Gareth’s long form, curled up around a cushion.

“He all right?” he asks Gwaine quietly as they pass.

“Yeah,” Gwaine says just as quietly. “Was a big day with you, and meeting me again, and everything. He’s exhausted, but he’s fine.”

Mordred nods and follows Gwaine into the kitchen. He blinks at the sudden light, but sits down at the table. Every so often, he raises his hand to play with his Shunt, sighing each time when he realises it’s gone.

Gwaine doesn’t say anything, but moves easily about the kitchen, putting together two steaming, aromatic cups of tea. He places one in front of Mordred and sits down across from him.

Mordred wraps his hands around the cup and lets the warmth leach into his fingers.

“Thanks,” he says softly, watching the steam as it curls up.

“No worries. Plus, I should be thanking you. Gareth told me what you did for him.”

Mordred shifts in his chair and half shrugs.

“I just … didn’t want to see him get used up by Morgause. I mean - what I could offer wasn’t much better because he still had to, uh, work, but - “

“Mordred you saved his life. When I left home … I was about 18. Gareth was 10. He begged me to take him with me, but I was still half a kid myself. I told myself - and him - that he was better off where he was. It was the hardest thing I ever did. And I know - I was lucky. One of the first people I met was Arthur. PenCorp put me through school, and I’ve worked for them ever since.”

Mordred takes a sip of his tea and chances a look at Gwaine’s face as the drink warms his insides. Gwaine grins at him then, open and happy.

His face falls slightly though as he looks down at his own tea. “I - I meant to go back for him, when I was established, when I could afford it. I was going to go and get him and bring him to live with me here. But then we started getting contracts for space missions and we’d be gone for months at a time …. “

Gwaine shakes his head.

“Anyway. Past regrets aside, you brought Gareth back to me, and I’m grateful.”

Mordred clears his throat and takes another drink.

“He talked about you. He talked about you a lot. He - wanted to try and find you. That’s why he came to London, but he just wasn’t - lucky or something, I don’t know.”

Mordred licks his lips and sighs, lifting his head to meet Gwaine’s gaze again.

“Being… a Shunter, and doing what I do - what I did - it sucks. It fucking sucks because you’re at the mercy of that fucking thing all the time. I was a bit … luckier because I had Freya to take care of me, and I had a dealer who’s pops were always clean. But sooner or later, that wouldn’t have been enough. Sooner or later I would’ve …. burnt out. Become one of those fucking Nooner zombies that are so fried, the can’t feel anything. If I could spare Gareth that, I was going to - try. I’m - I’m glad he found you.”

Gwaine smiles over the rim of his cup, his eyes looking tired, but there’s nothing in them but kindness for Mordred.

“So - do you know what you’re going to do now?”

Mordred laughs and shrugs, staring down at the table. “Dunno. Can’t go back - I’d say none of us can, now. I know what Cenred - that’s who Gareth talked to, he’s - he was my uh, dealer - I know what he’s capable of and … well. We can’t go back.”

Gwaine nods in understanding. “Well, I’d want Gareth here with me, anyway. And Freya can stay at mine, there’s plenty of room. And you, if that’s what you wanted.”

Mordred shuffles around in his seat, and glances back towards the bedrooms. “I uh, I don’t know …”

“Sorry, I shouldn’t try and push like that. You’ve just basically escaped death, had major surgery and lost your Shunt - in little more than a day. You don’t have to decide anything right now. I just - it was my very heavy-handed way of letting you know that none of you are out in the cold, yeah? However it shakes down from here - all of you will have somewhere to go.”

Mordred ducks his head, feeling overwhelmed and suddenly exhausted. Tears prick the back of his eyes and he suddenly, desperately wants to be alone.”

“I - I’m sorry, I don’t.” He clears his throat and takes a deep breath, forcing himself to raise his head and meet Gwaine’s steady, kind gaze.

“I’m not used to people just being … nice, you know? They always want - something, or I get hurt, or - well, bad things happen. I mean, I shouldn’t think that way because of Freya and Merlin and all, but …. I’ve had way more bad things than good things happen, you know? Sometimes I still think that I’ll turn around and Frey will see me for the lowlife I am, and - “

“Hey.”

Gwaine’s voice is soft and he reaches his arm across the table, waiting patiently until Mordred slowly reaches his own arm back.

“You’re not - okay, I don’t really know you, but I do know that you’re no kind of lowlife. If you were, you would have abandoned Gareth to his fate; you would have, I don’t know, tried to rob Merlin when you met him, or worse ...you are - as far as I can see from my very limited perspective - a person who cares deeply about his friends and wants what’s best for them. I literally cannot repay you for bringing Gareth back to me. Not only that, but at great personal risk to yourself you got him away from a terrible situation.”

Gwaine sighs, and sits back in his own seat, as Mordred reaches up, surprised to find tears on his cheeks. He scrubs at them, and blinks hard.

“What would you do now. If - if you were me?” It’s a hard question for Mordred to ask, and he feels the deep weight of it on his chest as he waits.

Gwaine glances over to the large sofa in the living area, where Gareth is still peacefully sleeping.

“I would, I think, talk to the people I care about the most. To Freya, and Gareth. See what they think. And, of course, Merlin.”

Mordred nods, and sighs.

Merlin.

“Merlin,” he says softly, glancing towards the bedroom again. “I don’t - don’t know what to do about Merlin,” he admits, voicing the one thing that’s been weighing on him since he woke up.

“Well, I can’t tell you what to do, of course, but I will say this. Merlin cares about you. He cares about you a lot, and he’s possibly the best person I’ve ever met, aside from maybe Lance.”

Mordred nods, and can’t stop a small smile blooming on his face.

Gwaine says nothing, but raises his cup to his face again, small lines crinkling his eyes and making them light up with what Mordred assumes is amusement.

“Start with talking to Freya and Gareth. And go from there.”

Mordred nods, and is suddenly caught by a massive yawn. He’s so very tired.

“And go back to bed. Merlin will shave my hair off if you get sick from staying up half the night.”

Mordred laughs at that and pushes back from the table, groaning softly.

“Thanks, Gwaine. For - everything.”

Gwaine smiles and raises a hand.

“Nothing to thank me for, mate. Go get some sleep.”

Merlin wakes up with a start, blinking in confusion until the previous day comes crashing into his memory. He curses softly as he sits up, his neck stiff from sleeping upright. He glances over at the bed and smiles to see Freya and Mordred curled around each other, sleeping.

He shifts as quietly as he can, glancing at his miniScreen, realising that most of the morning has gone. Sighing, Merlin pushes a hand through his hair and makes his way to the kitchen.

Arthur and Leon are there, sitting close together and talking quietly over the remains of tea and toast, and once, the tableau would have twisted up Merlin’s insides, but now it makes him smile fondly.

He stumbles into a chair and yawns hugely, sighing. Leon snorts in amusement from the other side of the table but gets up and starts moving around the kitchen, making more toast and boiling the kettle.

“Rough night?” Arthur asks, his voice far too amused.

“Fell asleep in the chair,” Merlin mutters as Leon puts a steaming mug of tea down in front of him. “M’neck hurts.”

He loses himself in the tea for a long, blissful moment.

“How’s Mordred?” Arthur asks, when Merlin surfaces again.

“Sleeping,” Merlin says. “Freya’s still in there, too. Sleep’s the best thing at the moment. Where’s - everyone else?”

“Gwaine took Gareth back to his place early this morning. Lance and Gwen went home, too. They’ll all be back later today for the mission briefing,” Leon says as he places a plate piled high with buttered toast down in front of Merlin.

Merlin just nods as he takes a bite of the toast, just managing to restrain himself from moaning. Arthur, bless him and his future children, has got real butter, and it’s all Merlin can do not to bury his face in the toast.

He scratches his hand through his hair again, making it look like a particularly messy birds’ nest, and sighs.

“I should go home for a bit, too. Feed the demon cat; have a shower.”

Arthur nods and pinches a piece of toast, ignoring Merlin’s indignant squawk.

“Well, Mordred and Freya can stay here as long as they like. I think Gwaine said something about them being welcome to stay with Gareth at his place, too, so there’s no shortage there.”

Merlin nods, and smiles gratefully.

“Thanks, Arthur.”

He drains his mug of tea, takes one last piece of toast and reluctantly pushes back from the table.

“Right. I’ll be back later for the meeting.”

The next few weeks are a blur of activity and rush rush rush for Merlin as the crew organises the final details for the trip.

Gwaine opens his home easily to Gareth and Freya, and Freya starts a new job soon enough at a private clinic; one that Merlin vaguely thinks was organised by Morgana.

He quietly offers to take Mordred in while they do the last of the planning and organising, and Mordred agrees, just as quietly.

Merlin sets him up in the spare bedroom, chattering away nervously as he fetches blankets and sheets and towels, and introduces Mordred to the cat.

“He’s - he’s a real cat. I mean, he’s not a, a clone or anything, I found him as a kitten, filthy and half-starved and I couldn’t just leave him. Now, of course, he’s a holy terror who rules my whole life.”

Mordred just nods, but there’s a warm look in his eyes as he tentatively reaches out to rub between the cat’s ears.

“So, you’re used to picking up strays then,” Mordred says softly, but his eyes are warm and teasing when Merlin looks up from where he’s dragging a sheet over the mattress.

“Cheeky. Come and make yourself useful, then. Grab the other side of this.”

They work together in companionable silence after that, taking turns to lift the cat down from the bed, laughing every time.

Merlin pushes back his hair once the bed is made, and looks around the rather sparse room. There’s the bed, and a nightstand, and a chair in the corner.

“There. It’s not - it’s not much but it’s all yours - for as long as you want it.”

Merlin’s careful to keep his tone neutral. He knows what he wants from Mordred, but he also knows that he can’t push it; that whatever happens between them next, has to come from Mordred.

Glancing at him as he reaches out to pet the cat again, his expression soft and unguarded with wonder, Merlin thinks he’ll be able to wait forever.

It scares him a little how content he is with that idea.

Mordred slots into Merlin’s life like he’s always been there, and the closer the trip gets, the heavier the lump in Merlin’s chest becomes. He’s going to be gone for months, and he tells himself over and over again that it’s all right, that it’s good that Mordred will be here to look after the cat, and it’ll be nice to have … a friend to come home to.

He knows he’s lying to himself, knows it every time he catches on to silly things - the curve of Mordred’s neck as he reads through a book on his Screen, or the way his hands move when he’s making a simple pot of tea.

Without the Shunt; without the desperate, driving need for a pop over-riding everything, Merlin finds that Mordred is clever, sarcastic, funny and loving. And he wants to do nothing more than spending his whole life finding out everything he can.

A couple of weeks out from the mission, Merlin feels overwhelmed, exhausted and as though there’s a colony of bees buzzing in his head.

So he goes to see Arthur.

Arthur is up to his neck in finalising details for the trip, but he has a smile for Merlin - albeit a very tired one - and stops long enough to put the kettle on and pull out one of Leon’s decadent home-made chocolate cakes.

Arthur very carefully slices a piece for Merlin, and sits down across from him, waiting patiently.

Merlin sighs as he picks at his cake, shifting his shoulders to dislodge some tension.

“How’s Mordred doing?” Arthur asks finally.

Merlin glances up at that, a rueful smile twisting at his mouth.

“He’s doing really good, actually. He’s settled in, the evil cat loves him … he’s reading his way through my books at the moment. It’s … good.”

Merlin nods again and takes a very large bite of cake, resisting the urge to lick his lips because the cake has real, rich contra-chocolate in it and not just the synthetic stuff that’s everywhere.

“Just good?” Arthur asks, raising an eyebrow. Merlin rolls his eyes and deliberately takes another large bite.

“Yes,” he says when he’s able to talk again. “Just good. I don’t want to … crowd him, or push him into something he’s not ready for. Besides, we’re leaving soon, and we’re going to be gone for so long and it’s going to be nearly impossible to communicate, because of the timing and the Net and you’ll need most of the packets to talk to Morgana and, I just - I don’t know what to do.”

Merlin pushes a hand through his hair and sits back, exhaling loudly.

Arthur just blinks for a long moment, saying nothing.

“That’s …. a lot. That’s what’s going around in your head right now?”

Merlin nods, feeling suddenly exhausted by his outburst. “Pretty much. And I mean, I want to - I want … but - it can’t come from me, and I feel like the worst person in the world because it feels like I’m going to burst out of my skin.”

Arthur laughs at that and shakes his head. “Breathe, Merlin, it’ll be all right. What did Lance say?”

Merlin props his head on his hand and sighs. “Just that, well, Mordred is young, and healthy and that he expects that his natural um, sex drive will reassert itself soon enough. That’s … not what I’m worried about. What if. What if he … discovers that …”

Merlin stops and bites his lip, looking up at Arthur from under his lashes.

“That what, Merlin? That … he doesn’t want you? To be involved with you?”

Merlin nods, swallowing hard. It’s what’s at the basis of his restlessness lately but hearing out loud makes it seem more real, and more stark.

Arthur just studies him for a long, weighted moment.

“I can’t answer that question, Merlin. You said yourself that Mordred seems to be settled, and happy. Stronger?”

Merlin nods, biting his lip again.

“Then you need to talk to Mordred. One thing at a time, all right? And - Merlin - don’t worry about the trip. If things with Mordred do work out the way you want them to … well, I’ve been talking with Morgana, and we - he can come with us. He’ll have to work, of course; I thought perhaps he could help Gauis with the oxygen garden .. but. Anyway. Go home, Merlin. Talk to Mordred. We’ll go from there.”

Merlin is speechless. He stares at Arthur, even as he feels a huge grin spreading across his face. “I don’t - Arthur - thank you.”

Merlin pushes up out of his chair and rushes around the table, collecting Arthur in a massive hug.

Arthur laughs, and pats Merlin on the back. “Yes, well, don’t get too far ahead of yourself, Merlin, all right? You do need to talk to Mordred first. Go on. Do it today, before you lose your nerve and crawl back up inside your own head again.”

Merlin laughs as he lets Arthur go, but he’s still grinning widely. “I. Um. Right. I’ll get going. I just - thank you again, Arthur.”

Arthur gently pushes Merlin back and waves him off. “Go on, get away with you. Sort it out, Merlin, we’re leaving soon.”

Arthur’s tone is teasing and Merlin just rolls his eyes before making his way out of Arthur’s flat and heading back to his own.

Mordred stretches out on Merlin’s sofa, shuffling through the pages of the book he’s picked up from Merlin’s shelves. Merlin, to Mordred’s vast amusement has actual books. He also has a massive library loaded on to his ‘Screen, but Mordred knows that Merlin prefers touchable, tangible things.

He settles on the sofa, flicks through the pages, and admits to himself that Merlin might be on to something.

The cat finds him easily and parks himself right in the middle of Mordred’s chest. Mordred gives out a soft ‘hey’, but the cat merely glares at him before curling up and going to sleep.

Mordred rolls his eyes, sighs, and prepares to lose himself with Alice in Wonderland.

It’s an apt … analogy, he thinks, for his own life. Down the rabbit hole, and out the other side, He touches his scar absently, feeling it like a talisman, before he resumes reading.

He’s half-dozing when he hears the soft click of the door opening and closing. He stirs himself and groans softly when he realises the cat is still pinning him to the sofa.

Mordred watches Merlin as he comes over, gently lifting the cat off and holding out a hand so Mordred can haul himself upright.

“Thanks,” he says, smiling softly and licking his lips as he feels a tingle go up his arm where Merlin is touching him.

Merlin sits down beside him and stretches out his limbs, groaning softly. Mordred resettles himself and studies Merlin’s profile for a moment.

“Are you … are you all right?” He’s not sure what to do, or say, here. Merlin’s told him - over and over again that he can stay as long as he likes, that he never has to worry about having a home, about Freya and Gareth being safe, and he appreciates that, but he finds it hard to get a read on Merlin - on anyone, really, he’s finding, without the ride of the pop.

Merlin turns his head, and his eyes are warm, which makes Mordred relax a little bit.

“I’m fine. Just - there’s a lot to do before we go.”

Mordred can’t help pulling a face at that, he’d rather not think about Merlin being gone for so long. He’s going to miss him, he realises, and feels stupid, suddenly, for not seeing it before.

“Merlin … “ Mordred stops and bites his lip, unsure what to say next.

“It’s just … um.” Mordred sighs and stops again. He feels ridiculously young, and awkward suddenly. He knows what he wants, knows who he wants and he thinks, maybe that Merlin wants the same thing, but he’s finding it hard to take the last step.

It’s different, from before. Different from when he was just another Shunter, looking for a punter, craving the next pop, the next sensation. He’s scared, he thinks as he looks at Merlin again, meeting his gaze. Scared that he won’t … that it will go wrong, somehow.

Merlin turns so he’s facing Mordred on the sofa. He reaches out a hand slowly, stroking his thumb gently over Mordred’s cheekbone, and Mordred can’t help it - he leans into the small touch and sighs.

“Just this?” Merlin asks, his voice quiet, something wavering in the tone that Mordred can’t read. He closes his eyes, nods, and lets himself fall.

He feels the rustle of Merlin’s clothes as he draws closer to Mordred, until Mordred can feel his breath against his cheek.

“Mordred,” Merlin says softly. “I need you to look at me. I need to know that this is okay, that this is what you want - “

Mordred blinks his eyes open and Merlin is so close that Mordred can see all the shades of blue in his eyes. He closes the small space, and presses his lips against Merlin’s. It’s a short kiss, close-mouthed, but warm, and Mordred pulls back smiling. He’s certain, now, the surety of it settling into his very bones.

“You,” he says softly. “I want - I want you.”

Merlin smiles at that, the one Mordred loves, that lights up Merlin’s whole face and makes his eyes blaze blue and bright.

He stands up, and holds out his hand for Mordred, who grins and goes willingly, trying not to pay attention to the feeling of relief that floods his system as he thinks finally.

He feels no rush of adrenaline; no rising or coursing of his blood as Merlin lays him down on the bed and kisses him until they’re both breathless.

Before, it had always been about getting off; the drive of the pop forcing him to seek out more and more and more.

Now, Mordred realises as Merlin puts lips and teeth and tongue to his neck, now he has all the time in the world to just … enjoy.

He lets himself sort of melt into Merlin’s messy sheets, raising one lazy hand to push through Merlin’s hair.

“You all right?” Merlin asks quietly, kissing the hollow at the base of Mordred’s throat.

“Mmmmmm,” Mordred hums lightly, lifting up his arms when Merlin tugs at his shirt. It gets tossed aside and Mordred grins up at Merlin, tugging at the hem of his shirt till Merlin gets the idea.

“I’m … good. Great, maybe. I feel … I don’t know - just - good.”

He bites his lip and laughs at himself for rambling, but Merlin just kisses him quickly and smiles. Everything feels slow and light, and kind of perfect.

Merlin strips them both down, kissing as much of Mordred’s skin as he can reach as he goes. He coaxes Mordred to full hardness with his mouth and his hands, and Mordred curls his hands into the sheets, biting down hard on his bottom lip, his breath coming out in hitching gasps.

“Merlin, st-stop, wait - “

Merlin lifts his head immediately his eyes filled with concern. “What is it? Are you all right? What’s wrong?”

Mordred laughs, breathless again, and tips his head back on the pillow, suddenly feeling strangely shy.

“N-nothing. I just. Uh, I don’t want to come just yet. Not till… uhm.” Mordred wants to laugh at himself because he never had a problem with this before, never had a problem letting absolute filth spill out of his mouth while some punter was fucking him, but this, this is so very different from before.

Merlin laughs softly and kisses the corner of his mouth.

“All right, that’s all right. That’s. Brilliant actually.”

Mordred closes his eyes and takes a deep breath, listening to Merlin rustle around in the drawers beside his bed, muttering.

He feels Merlin’s lips on him again, on his cheek, the corner of his mouth again his neck.

He winds his arms around Merlin’s neck and they lie like that for a while, nothing but deep, dragging kisses and lazy rolls of hips until Mordred feels Merlin’s length against him and he gasps against Merlin’s mouth.

“Mordred. Can you open your eyes? Look at me, love.”

Merlin’s voice is low and gentle and his eyes are nothing but warmth on Mordred’s face when he slowly blinks his own open again, and he has to resist the urge to stretch and bask under the attention.

“I’m good, Merlin, I’m great, go ahead, please, I want you.”

Merlin smiles down at him, nothing hidden in his face at all, his whole expression looking lit up from inside.

“I’ll. I’ll go as slow as I can, yeah? Give you time to - get used to how it feels without - “

Mordred’s throat is suddenly sand-dry but he finds a smile, and nods, biting back too many words; words that it’s far too soon for, but he knows that they’re true, for all that.

He pushes a hand through Merlin’s thick hair, tangling the black strands around his fingers.

“Merlin, I trust you, you’re not going to hurt me, please”.

Merlin nods, licking his own lips before groping blindly on the bed for the bottle of slick he’d dropped there earlier.

True to his word, Merlin goes slow; deliciously, torturously slow, and Mordred thinks he might just go out of his mind as he uses his fingers and his tongue to open Mordred up, occasionally pressing words of reassurance into Mordred’s thigh.

By the time Merlin is pressing in, Mordred feels as though his skin is going to ignite under the sure touch of Merlin’s hands, and his lips against Mordred’s neck. He grips at Merlin’s skin, leaving behind pinching bruises as he grasps any part of Merlin he can, to stop himself flying apart.

His orgasm hits suddenly, out of nowhere, making him gasp into Merlin’s mouth as it rolls over and over him and he feels like it’s never going to end. He’s vaguely aware of Merlin’s hips stuttering out of rhythm, and then he’s still, everything is still, and Mordred thinks he could float right up to the ceiling.

He winces slightly as Merlin pulls out gently, peppering small kisses along Mordred’s jaw as he moves. Mordred lies back, spreading his arms and legs out on the bed, feeling like he’ll never be able to move again. He drifts, in and out of a half-doze, vaguely aware of Merlin moving to and fro from the bed, feels the sensation of a warm, damp cloth, before Merlin returns and pulls the thick duvet over both of them.

Mordred rolls lazily on to his side and sighs in contentment when Merlin snugs up behind him, wrapping one arm around his waist.

“All right?” Merlin asks softly, nuzzling at the base of Mordred’s neck.

“Better than all right,” Mordred replies softly. “My bones feel like … liquid or something. And, I don’t know, I guess it’s the ‘Nano or something but normally by now I’d be … craving, going nuts for the next pop, and now I just feel .. I just want to sleep, and that’s, that’s all I can feel. I’m just - tired.”

“A good kind of tired, I hope,” Merlin says, his voice equally quiet, matching Mordred’s somewhat pensive mood.

“A very good kind of tired,” Mordred replies sleepily before yawning hugely and letting out a laugh when the cat lands on the bed suddenly, it’s fur bristling with silent indignation.

Mordred lets his eyes grow heavy as he watches the cat make a nest for itself on the bed.

Merlin is a comforting weight behind him; he’s got a slight, but not unpleasant ache in his lower back and thighs, and he feels wanted in a way he never has before. He drifts off to sleep with that feeling lingering, like the feeling of sunlight on his skin.

The next couple of weeks pass in a rush as the Pendragon crew prepare to leave with the mining colonists and their families. Merlin feels as though he can barely turn around, or catch his breath, as the final preparations are made.

Mordred begins to feel like an anchor amid all of the chaos; someone that Merlin can reach out to as a fixed point in his life, and he can barely remember what his life was like before.

Even so, it’s a few days after he’s spoken to Arthur before he gets the chance to sit Mordred down and repeat Arthur’s offer. Mordred’s expression, is at first, wary, but as Merlin describes how long the trip would take, and that Gaius is more than willing to take him on as a botanical apprentice, his expression shifts to something else - something closer to hope.

“But -” he frowns in concentration, and Merlin can only sit and watch, biting his lip. “But I don’t know anything about plants and trees and things. That’s what it is, right? An oxygen garden?”

Merlin nods, and tries to bite back a smile, because asking questions like this means that Mordred is at least considering it. “Well, yes but that doesn’t matter, you’ll have months to learn, and Gaius has been talking about retiring for at least five years. And - I mean - you don’t have to take it on, of course, but - “

Mordred frowns again, his eyes shifting across Merlin’s face. “But otherwise I’d have to stay here, right? Everyone has a role, yeah? Everyone has some kind of job.”

Merlin nods and bites his lip. “Yeah, that’s how it works. It’s a PenCorp … efficiency I guess. Look - I know I’m piling a lot on you, all at once, and I’m sorry. If it helps, I’d love for you to come along. We’re going to be gone for months at least, possibly over a year, because we’ll likely have to help with settling the colonists, and call me selfish, but I don’t want to leave you behind for that long.”

“Plants and trees,” Mordred says slowly, like he’s been turning the idea over in his head. “I just never thought about it. Before … before you, I never had to think of anything beyond - beyond survival and when I could get my next pop. And now you’re talking … space, and apprenticeships and all kinds of things that -”

“Hey, hey, breathe,” Merlin says softly, moving slightly closer to Mordred on the wide sofa. “It’s all right.” He takes Mordred’s hand and rubs his thumb over the delicate skin on his inner wrist. “You don’t have to decide anything right now, okay? If you decide to come with me, the paperwork is already taken care of. It just has to be filed with PenCorp. If you decide to stay here, well - I’ll need to make you a list for the demon cat. There is no wrong decision, Mordred. Take your time.”

He leans forward and places a small kiss at the corner of Mordred’s mouth.

“I’ve been saving some credits, and I’m going to run a very hot, and very indulgent bath. Join me?”

Merlin stands up and holds out his hand, smiling. It’s the one thing, he knows, guaranteed to calm Mordred right down; hot water being such a luxury that the first bath Mordred ever had was right here in Merlin’s flat.

“A bath?” Mordred’s face lights up and he looks, suddenly, very young. Merlin’s breath catches and his heart gives a painful lurch before racing away from him.

“Yeah, come on. I’ll … wash your back for you.”

Mordred snorts out a small laugh as he takes Merlin’s hand. “Is that what they call it now?” and Merlin grins again, helpless.

“Well,” he says thoughtfully as they make their way to the bathroom. “I’ll wash your back as well.”

The delighted, spontaneous peal of Mordred’s laughter goes straight to Merlin’s head and heart like the most expensive wine and he has to take a deep breath.

“All right,” Mordred says later, when they’re wrapped up in bed together, wet towels discarded on the floor, huddled naked under the duvet.

“Plants and trees it is, Merlin. I can’t imagine spending all that time waiting for you to come back, when I could go with you. I’ll - I’ll come.”

Merlin can feel the smile on his face, feel how it blazes out, and he can’t even try and hide it.

“That’s. That’s great, that’s brilliant, I’ll call Morgana now, get the paperwork pushed through. Um. What else. You’ll need to have a med-exam done, but I can’t do that because of, you know, but uh -”

“What about Freya? Can she do it? Or - or Gwen? I need to talk to Freya anyway, and she’s not going to let me go anywhere if she thinks I’m not up to it …”

Merlin bites his lip as he scrolls to Morgana’s details on his miniScreen. “Freya would be fine, yeah. I can’t - this is so - “ Merlin flings his hands in the air, completely out of words, and Morgana answers his call to the sound of Mordred’s laughter in the background.

Everything after that slots into place so easily that Merlin suspects his friends have been working behind his back.

The med-exam is done by Freya, with Gwen helping out, and Merlin pacing outside the door of the examination room at Pencorp Headquarters.

Arthur laughs when he sees him, drawing him into a hug. “Calm down, Merlin. It’s just a physical, and it’s basically a formality. You know that.”

Merlin lets out a shaky laugh and accepts the thermocup of tea Arthur hands him.

He sits down on the waiting area’s couch and tilts his head back.

“I’m being a bit ridiculous, aren’t I.” He doesn’t phrase it like a question.

Arthur hums for a moment before answering. “Overprotective, maybe. Everything will be fine, Merlin.”

Merlin’s stopped from answering by the door open, and it’s only the thought of how much Arthur will mock him for the rest of his life that keeps him pinned to the sofa.

“All right,” he asks as Mordred tucks down beside him on the sofa, stealing his tea in the process.

Mordred nods as he sip from Merlin’s cup. “Yeah, all good, right Frey?”

Freya and Gwen come out next, both smiling. “Yep. You’re disgustingly healthy, and all set for your first big mission.”

“Where I’m going to grow trees,” Mordred says, grinning as he takes another sip of Merlin’s tea.

“Lovely,” a voice says from behind them. “Your paperwork is all filed, you’re healthy … now, let’s go shopping.”

Mordred’s eyes widen as he turns to Merlin, who’s trying to hide his laughter behind his hand.

“Go on, go with Morgana. The easiest line of defence is always to just … give in.”

“Plus, you need new … everything, you can’t shuffle around in space for that long wearing Merlin’s scruffy hand-me-downs.”

“Um. But I. I can’t pay for anything,” Mordred says as Merlin reaches out to snag his tea back.

Morgana merely raises an eyebrow and says nothing.

“Go on, love,” Merlin says, his voice softer. “It’s all right, yeah? I’ll see you tonight.”

By the time Morgana drops Mordred back at the flat, he’s laden down with boxes and bags and a slightly wild look in his eyes.

Merlin bites the inside of his cheek to stop himself from laughing as he helps Mordred put everything away. It’s clothes, mostly, but there’s also a shiny new miniScreen, and Merlin makes a mental note to copy his own library over, and there’s … he turns the items over in his hands, glancing up with a question in his eyes.

“Oh. Um. Morgana said that - Gaius liked … old-fashioned things. Because he thinks you can uh, hold on to stuff better if you write it down? So, she insisted on the pens and paper … “

Merlin nods and hands them back carefully, watching as Mordred handles the rare paper and pens like they’re the most precious things in the world. “She said I could - or that maybe Gaius could - show me how to draw, to - keep a record of all the plants? It sounds kind of … fun?”

He glances up at Merlin from under his spiky eyelashes and Merlin feels his heart turn right over in his chest. His throat tightens, and for a long moment, he can’t speak at all.

“That’s - that does sound fun. And Morgana is right, Gaius will be pleased. He likes … things you can hold on to. Things that aren’t … temporary, or, or transient.”

His voice softens as he steps closer to Mordred, licking his lips.

“Permanent things then,” Mordred says, lifting his gaze to meet Merlin’s.

Merlin reaches out and traces the line of Mordred’s cheekbone with the pad of his thumb. Everything that he feels for Mordred seems to rise up and roll around in his blood as they both unconsciously move closer to each other, their lips meeting in a soft, silent kiss.

Merlin rests his forehead against Mordred’s and closes his eyes, breathing in, breathing out. He smiles when he feels Mordred’s hand on his arm, tracing an invisible path up to his shoulder, curling behind his neck.

Mordred sighs against Merlin’s skin, a soft breath of nothing; an exhalation for a new life.

“Come on,” he says finally, his voice creating a shiver against Merlin’s skin; so close. “Let’s go to bed.”

Later that night, the only light in the room coming from the soft glow of streetlights through the curtains, Mordred props himself up on one arm, and looks down at Merlin’s sleeping form.

He’s tired from a long day, and there’s a deep ache in his thighs that he hopes he’ll never get used to. He lets his thoughts drift where they will; from his early childhood as a foster, through the past three years as a Shunter - and he notes just as quietly that the word doesn’t twist his insides up anymore; and he thinks that maybe he’s finally ready to move on.

Merlin’s face looks young in sleep, all care smoothed away and nothing left behind but sharp lines and a generous mouth.

Mordred resists the urge to reach out and trace the generous lines of Merlin’s mouth, not wanting to wake him up. Instead, he carefully lies down and fits himself to Merlin’s side, sighing at the slide of skin.

He pulls up the duvet, pushed away earlier by impatient hands and feet, and closes his eyes.

He finally feels like he’s where he’s meant to be.