Of Times and Travels and Cows (Drabble)
Title: Of Times and Travels and Cows
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 809
Warnings: Modern AU
Summary: Merlin muses while Arthur pouts. And really, who doesn't love cows?
Notes: Written for Round 1 Challenge 2 at camelot_fics. Dudes, I won. o_O Right? RIGHT?! MAJOR awesome. Thanks to all who voted!!!
Of Times and Travels and Cows
He didn’t want to say it, but they were lost. So, so very lost.
And even though he’d been thinking it for the last twenty-five minutes, saying it out loud was only going to upset Arthur further - it was obvious he was already frustrated - and Merlin was not suicidal. Of course, he didn’t think that Arthur would actually hurt him, but this trip had already been saddled with problem after problem, and speaking aloud his concerns would only be like rubbing salt into his wounded pride. Arthur would not appreciate that.
So, Merlin kept his eyes trained out the passenger window and watched as the scenery rolled by: small, sloping hills covered in green grass; tall, ancient oak trees with brightly colored leaves; fields of golden corn and wheat, almost ready for harvest; cows. Merlin wrinkled his nose and stifled a small giggle. Cows.
He turned his head, poised to remind Arthur about the time they had been stopped by all those meandering cows on the small road leading to Gwen and Lance’s wedding in Peasmarsh. But when he saw Arthur - knuckles white against the steering wheel and jaw clenched with a pulsing muscle beneath the skin - he sighed (quietly so Arthur didn’t hear) and turned to look out the window once more.
Merlin thought about how they had spent twenty minutes on the side of the road trying to actually scare the cows into moving out of their way. They had started off being annoyed, because really, who let’s their cows just wander into the road? But once they had started using different tactics, like sneaking up behind the cows and trying to startle them or prodding at them with a measly, little stick that they’d found by the side of the road, the whole situation just became hilarious. And, of course, Merlin - the clumsiest man in the world, according to Arthur - had inevitably slipped on a small patch of grass, landed flat on his face, and swallowed a bit of dirt in the process.
When Arthur had finally stopped laughing (Merlin did find the humor in it, as well, because - after all - it really was something he would do), he had set one hand on Merlin’s hip, fingertips pressed into his skin, and the other slipped around his neck, thumb pulling at the corner of his lips. He had pushed Merlin back against the boot of the car and slid his knee between his legs. Arthur’s kiss had been possessive and hot, lips and tongue and teeth. Gasps and groans.
Friction.
Wicked, wicked friction.
Merlin shifted in his seat, his jeans suddenly a little too tight, and cleared the memory fog from his eyes by blinking rapidly. He glanced slightly to the side to see Arthur still focused on the road. It felt like it had been forever and a day since the trip to Peasmarsh and they had been through so much - both good and bad - since then.
They had been planning this trip for months - well, Arthur had anyway, which was probably why he was the most upset about all the issues - and it was supposed to fun. So far, however, it had been anything but. From their flight being cancelled, to Merlin’s missing luggage, and now their random driving around in the country (lost… so lost), their trip had been a complete disaster.
And it had only started less than 24-hours ago.
Merlin pressed his forehead against the passenger side window and sighed. They needed this trip, needed it badly, and he was really hoping that Arthur - the man that he loved more than anything in the world, despite his obviously short temper - would come around. He didn’t want it to be another one of those vacations.
He closed his eyes and thought that maybe a short nap would ease his nerves. And just as he was feeling his body loosen and slide into sleep, Arthur’s hand grabbed his and tightened gently. Merlin opened his eyes and turned to look at him. The line of Arthur’s jaw was finally relaxed and his knuckles on the steering wheel weren’t nearly as white.
And as Merlin watched, Arthur turned his head to look at him. His blue eyes always made Merlin’s heart stutter a bit, but when he saw the apology there - and the intensity of his love - Merlin thought they’d need to find a hospital so he could be resuscitated. Arthur linked his fingers through his and brought Merlin’s hand up to his mouth. He kissed his knuckles and then set their hands into his own lap. Merlin didn’t stop looking at him, even as Arthur turned back to look at the road.
A smile twitched at Arthur’s lips and as Merlin grinned over at him, knowing that things were going to be okay, he swore he saw Arthur mouth the word cows.
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 809
Warnings: Modern AU
Summary: Merlin muses while Arthur pouts. And really, who doesn't love cows?
Notes: Written for Round 1 Challenge 2 at camelot_fics. Dudes, I won. o_O Right? RIGHT?! MAJOR awesome. Thanks to all who voted!!!
Of Times and Travels and Cows
He didn’t want to say it, but they were lost. So, so very lost.
And even though he’d been thinking it for the last twenty-five minutes, saying it out loud was only going to upset Arthur further - it was obvious he was already frustrated - and Merlin was not suicidal. Of course, he didn’t think that Arthur would actually hurt him, but this trip had already been saddled with problem after problem, and speaking aloud his concerns would only be like rubbing salt into his wounded pride. Arthur would not appreciate that.
So, Merlin kept his eyes trained out the passenger window and watched as the scenery rolled by: small, sloping hills covered in green grass; tall, ancient oak trees with brightly colored leaves; fields of golden corn and wheat, almost ready for harvest; cows. Merlin wrinkled his nose and stifled a small giggle. Cows.
He turned his head, poised to remind Arthur about the time they had been stopped by all those meandering cows on the small road leading to Gwen and Lance’s wedding in Peasmarsh. But when he saw Arthur - knuckles white against the steering wheel and jaw clenched with a pulsing muscle beneath the skin - he sighed (quietly so Arthur didn’t hear) and turned to look out the window once more.
Merlin thought about how they had spent twenty minutes on the side of the road trying to actually scare the cows into moving out of their way. They had started off being annoyed, because really, who let’s their cows just wander into the road? But once they had started using different tactics, like sneaking up behind the cows and trying to startle them or prodding at them with a measly, little stick that they’d found by the side of the road, the whole situation just became hilarious. And, of course, Merlin - the clumsiest man in the world, according to Arthur - had inevitably slipped on a small patch of grass, landed flat on his face, and swallowed a bit of dirt in the process.
When Arthur had finally stopped laughing (Merlin did find the humor in it, as well, because - after all - it really was something he would do), he had set one hand on Merlin’s hip, fingertips pressed into his skin, and the other slipped around his neck, thumb pulling at the corner of his lips. He had pushed Merlin back against the boot of the car and slid his knee between his legs. Arthur’s kiss had been possessive and hot, lips and tongue and teeth. Gasps and groans.
Friction.
Wicked, wicked friction.
Merlin shifted in his seat, his jeans suddenly a little too tight, and cleared the memory fog from his eyes by blinking rapidly. He glanced slightly to the side to see Arthur still focused on the road. It felt like it had been forever and a day since the trip to Peasmarsh and they had been through so much - both good and bad - since then.
They had been planning this trip for months - well, Arthur had anyway, which was probably why he was the most upset about all the issues - and it was supposed to fun. So far, however, it had been anything but. From their flight being cancelled, to Merlin’s missing luggage, and now their random driving around in the country (lost… so lost), their trip had been a complete disaster.
And it had only started less than 24-hours ago.
Merlin pressed his forehead against the passenger side window and sighed. They needed this trip, needed it badly, and he was really hoping that Arthur - the man that he loved more than anything in the world, despite his obviously short temper - would come around. He didn’t want it to be another one of those vacations.
He closed his eyes and thought that maybe a short nap would ease his nerves. And just as he was feeling his body loosen and slide into sleep, Arthur’s hand grabbed his and tightened gently. Merlin opened his eyes and turned to look at him. The line of Arthur’s jaw was finally relaxed and his knuckles on the steering wheel weren’t nearly as white.
And as Merlin watched, Arthur turned his head to look at him. His blue eyes always made Merlin’s heart stutter a bit, but when he saw the apology there - and the intensity of his love - Merlin thought they’d need to find a hospital so he could be resuscitated. Arthur linked his fingers through his and brought Merlin’s hand up to his mouth. He kissed his knuckles and then set their hands into his own lap. Merlin didn’t stop looking at him, even as Arthur turned back to look at the road.
A smile twitched at Arthur’s lips and as Merlin grinned over at him, knowing that things were going to be okay, he swore he saw Arthur mouth the word cows.