Kink Me! #24
Kink Me! #24
Closed to new prompts - go to the newest meme!Welcome to Kink Me! Merlin #24!
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Then…
Arthur hadn’t wanted to go. It was a luau, for Christ’s sake, in Massachusetts. But it was Gwaine’s birthday, so what had he really expected?
“What’s in this?” he asked Gwaine in reference to the drink in his fake coconut cup. He had to shout to be heard over the blaring music.
“What?”
“DUDE, WHAT IS IN THIS?”
“HAWAII,” Gwaine shouted back.
Arthur rolled his eyes and left the dance area. He couldn’t go far, though-he’d already committed himself to stay the night, at Elena’s father’s cabin. He remembered coming here as a child, for brief weekend vacations with his father that invariably turned into Uther leaving Arthur with Elena and Godwyn in favor of returning to the office. And now the place was lit up with tiki torches and strings of lanterns hanging from tree to tree, and there were just so many people there-people Arthur had never met before, because Gwaine’s crowd was completely foreign to him.
Then he saw them. Of course, of course, he should have known-Gwaine was neutral, and had no reason not to invite them, because he’d made it clear that sparing Arthur’s feelings was not worth snubbing them.
He swore softly, backing away. He’d already realized that he’d never have been able to love her like he did, though in truth he had really loved her and it would be a good while before the sting of her leaving stopped smarting completely.
They were dancing, they looked happy, but her eyes were looking for him, he could tell.
“Shit, shit, shit,” he chanted under his breath, looking for a place to hide. The cabin would be perfect-he’d just lock himself in the room he was staying in, that would work just fine-but the dance floor was between him and it. Maybe if he went into the trees and circled round-fuck! she was looking at him-he dove behind a large tree and hit something hard. Another tree? If he did, it was a sapling, and it went over easily.
Then the sapling spoke. Yelped, rather. “Agh! Ouch! Shit!”
“Fuck, sorry-are you okay?” Arthur asked, squinting. He couldn’t tell who it was he’d inadvertently tackled.
“Yeah, I’m fine, I just need to-you can get off me any time, you know,” said the victim. His tone wasn’t annoyed or angry, it was casual and teasing, which was amazing to Arthur. If someone had jumped on him in the dark in the woods, he’d be pissed to no end.
“Yeah, sorry, sorry,” he said hurriedly, scrambling backward and sitting there on the ground with his back against the tree. (His top priority was still avoiding them.)
The guy was cursing softly as he clambered out of the tree’s shadow into the light from the party. Arthur said “Hey!” in surprise and the guy looked up at him and recognition flashed in his face like lightning in the summer night.
“Arthur, right?” asked Merlin. “Gwaine’s friend.”
“Well, I wouldn’t be here if I wasn’t,” Arthur shrugged, a weird excitement making his lungs feel clammy. It had been a month-no, two, two months since the guy with the van had brought Gary back to him, and he’d given up hope he’d see him again (and he’d absolutely refused to approach the subject with Gwaine; out of the question).
“I’m Merlin,” said Merlin, smiling and holding out his hand, which Arthur shook, biting back the automatic response of ‘I know,’ that wanted to get out. Like he hadn’t been playing that name over in his head for two months, just waiting for a second chance, praying for a second chance…
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“Shit, I’m sorry,” said Arthur, and he could have kicked himself. A third chance, all he wanted was a third chance.
“No, no, it’s fine-I was the antisocial creeper hiding behind the tree,” said Merlin with a smile.
“What were you doing?” asked Arthur. Maybe if he got them both talking, he’d forget how horribly he kept screwing up.
“There was an owl on a tree right down there,” said Merlin. “I think I got a couple of decent shots.”
“Hobby of yours?” Arthur gestured to the camera.
“I guess you could say that.”
“How do you mean?”
“Well, to call it my job it has to make me money, right? If all it does is make me happy, it’s a hobby.” Seeing Arthur’s still-slightly-confused expression, he laughed and said, “I’m a photographer. Going through my starving artist stage at the moment.”
Arthur wasn’t sure what else to say except “Oh…”
“It’s fun, though,” Merlin assured him. “I…well, uh,” he coughed, seemingly to hide his discomfort, “wh-what were you, uh, jumping behind the tree for?”
“Oh…” Arthur said again, looking down at his hands. “I just…needed to get out of there.”
“I see,” said Merlin, and Arthur felt like maybe he really did. Ever since…well, everything that happened, people had tried to convince him how they understood what he was going through, and it just pissed him off because they didn’t understand. People so often mix up sympathy and empathy and end up hurting who they’re trying to heal. But Merlin…Merlin was different, and maybe it was just because Arthur was entirely, shamelessly smitten with him. He could deal with that.
Merlin got to his feet and held out a hand to help Arthur up. He retrieved a satchel from the ground and pointed down the slight slope. “Parties aren’t particularly my thing. Walk with me?”
Which was how Arthur found himself walking through these woods he hadn’t trekked since he was in high school-which, though not far behind him chronologically, seemed an eternity ago-with a man he’d met by chance for the second time.
Somehow, he didn’t know exactly how, Merlin got him to spill his guts. He started with telling him the real reason he’d dived behind the tree, and from there moved steadily backward in the tale until he realized he may as well just go back and tell it from the start, so that’s what he did. He talked about how he’d known Gwen for years and they’d started dating towards the end of high school, and how he spent half the time at her place and she spent the other half at his, and he was friends with her brother and got on exceedingly well with her father. Likewise, she was close with Morgana and Uther approved of the match entirely. He told Merlin about how he’d thought he would marry her and he’d been looking at rings-he’d been looking at rings, for fuck’s sake!-and then suddenly it was her and Lance and Arthur was out of the picture.
And Merlin just listened, patient, quiet, offering noncommittal noises when he supposed to. He didn’t have to say more just yet; merely his presence was comforting. Arthur had a fleeting thought that he should feel somewhat embarrassed, just offering up his entire heartbroken tale to this complete stranger, but it just felt right. Like pulling out a splinter, or a thorn. The anticipation of the pain had kept him from doing it for so long, and then it seemed the easiest thing in the world to just yank it out, and now the infected blood was trickling out, and it hurt but it felt so good, so relieving.
“Wow,” said Merlin, after Arthur was done. They had reached the lake. The softly rippling surface was almost a perfect reflection of the sky, framed by the trees. They just stood there, on the edge of the water, facing each other. Pausing.
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“You can’t handle them as a couple just yet,” Merlin provided.
“Yes, yes, exactly.”
Merlin nodded absently, pursing his lips thoughtfully. Arthur stood on the edge of a precipice, a huge drop-off, he felt as though he’d topple right off, but the anticipation of Merlin’s words pushed up, keeping him on solid ground.
Finally, Merlin said, “I wish there was something for me to say. You know, advice, or something. But there’s not. There’s no real solution to your problem because it’s not like a disease or something to be cured or fixed, it’s just an experience. A pretty fucked-up experience, but I think you’ll be stronger for it eventually.” He shrugged, fiddling with the strap of his camera bag. “And you obviously loved her, and nothing all-bad can come of really loving someone. There’s a silver lining somewhere.” He grimaced. “God, this is the last thing you want to hear, isn’t it? I’m sorry, I’m horrible at advice, I just start spouting nonsense and it never helps anyone and-”
“Actually,” Arthur interrupted. “I think…I think that’s exactly what I needed to hear.”
Merlin looked less nervous, but still tense. “So do you think you’re really over her?” he asked as they started walking again, along the craggy shoreline.
“Yeah, I do.” Arthur kicked as a pebble and a handful of them skittered across the rocks, rolling into the water, momentarily destroying the relative silence of the air, the relative stillness of the water. “I just don’t know what to do with myself now. I mean, I had my whole future planned out, and now it’s just not an option. And then I thought, maybe, I’d just sort of wallow in it for the rest of my life, and I can’t do that either, not if I’m over it.”
“Well, isn’t that how it’s supposed to be?” Merlin said. “Nobody knows what’s going to happen to them tomorrow, or next week, or ten years from now. What’s the point in it, anyway, if you know what’s going to happen? It’s like if someone tells me how a book ends-I’ll still read the book, but I’m not as excited about it because I just keep thinking ‘Hey, he’s gonna die, don’t get too attached to him,’ but I will inevitably fall completely in love with the character and then I’ll spend the entire time a sobbing wreck because I know he dies.” Merlin paused, bit his lip. “I’m sorry, I’m rambling now. And I’m a complete lit dork, now you know. I’ve read more Shakespeare than most people realize existed and I stayed up all night at Barnes & Noble waiting for the last Harry Potter book. Go on, mock me.”
Arthur laughed. “I’m working on my Master’s degree in Literature.”
Now Merlin laughed, and he couldn’t stop, and soon Arthur was laughing too, because he had three different editions of Shakespeare’s complete works, and he’d waited four hours just to get into the bookstore that fateful night of July 21st. They were laughing so hard they had to sit down right there on the rocks. Arthur laid down and thought he might die; he couldn’t breathe. Merlin hugged his stomach, tears running down his face.
“Oh god,” Arthur said, breathless with laughter, still sort of laughing. He expected that even after he finally ground to a halt he’d still be in danger of the brakes giving out. “What the hell am I going to do with my life?”
“Nobody can go back and start a new beginning,” said Merlin, “but anyone can start today and make a new ending.”
“John Green?”
“Maria Robinson.”
“I have never heard of her,” said Arthur, with some reverence. It wasn’t often he said that.
Merlin smiled. “Would you like to?”
Arthur sat up and looked at him. “I think I would.”
And so Merlin and Arthur began.
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AN: More soon, I promise! Ugh these boys are just so cute--I can't get enough of them!
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This is heartwarming and charming and just perfect.
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good job!
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Now...
Arthur was on the floor in front of the couch-Gary had already laid claim to that-with a cushion under his head and a baby on his chest. There was something happening on the television, but he wasn’t paying attention. Bran had fallen asleep, and Arthur just couldn’t tear his eyes away. He was already starting to look like Merlin, besides the pale skin and black hair, and the blue, blue eyes, but perhaps there was a bit of Morgana in the nose. Or maybe the hands, though it really was too soon to tell. Arthur gently took Bran’s tiny hand in one of his own and examined it. The little fingers curled absently around his thumb as Bran stirred a bit, making a mumbling sound and rubbing his nose against Arthur’s chest before settling again.
This was how he spent afternoons alone with Bran, while Merlin was off photographing for a wedding or something. And when he came home to the apartment, with pizza or takeout, he’d ask how they’d passed the day, and Arthur would say they’d watched the game or gone to the park. This time was his, these special moments were his, and he treasured them too much to share.
Difficult to believe, that not even two years ago, he’d never given any real thought to bringing a child into their lives. That not even two years ago, he’d never considered that there was more to add, that he needed anything other than Merlin (and Gary). Difficult to believe that there was a time when they didn’t have Bran.
He pressed the tiny hand softly to his lips and hummed a nursery song faintly, brushing his fingers over the dark, downy hair, and quietly lay there for a good hour.
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Then…
Merlin sat cross-legged on the floor, his back against the bookshelf. He had a large, squarish book of random, fascinating-yet-useless trivia in his lap, and a straw sticking out of his mouth. He’d finished the overpriced frozen hot chocolate, and was chewing absently on the straw, which still vaguely tasted delicious.
“Hey, look what I found!” said Arthur, on the other side of the shelf. He tossed a small paperback up over the partition, and it landed in Merlin’s lap.
“Island!” Merlin exclaimed. “Oh, I’ve been looking for this!”
“Yeah, I know. Maybe we could go see the movie when it’s out.”
Merlin shifted, and laid down so he was parallel to the shelf, his head in the walking aisle. He could just see around to Arthur’s side this way. “You’re not bored, are you?”
Arthur laid down on his stomach, the easier to talk to Merlin. “You’re kidding, right?” Merlin shrugged. “Do you…not want-”
“Oh, no,” Merlin assured him quickly. “It’s just that the reason I usually do stuff like this alone is because no one else ever wanted to. I didn’t want you to feel like you were getting dragged to this.”
“Like you could drag me anywhere,” scoffed Arthur.
“Hey, I could take you!” Arthur snorted, and Merlin frowned. “I’m stronger than I look!”
“Somehow I’m not worried.”
Merlin scowled but he wasn’t really angry. It had been like this for a couple of weeks, since Gwaine’s birthday party; most afternoons (like this one) each week were spent at Barnes & Noble or the library, and the few that weren’t found them either at a local café they both liked or something miscellaneous, like the movies or a pizzeria. It was very easy to be around Arthur, very natural. Something about him, about the way he talked and the things he talked about, and the way he’d focus completely on Merlin when they were talking… Merlin very much liked being with Arthur.
It was somewhat frustrating, though, having to constantly check himself. He’d instinctively move to take Arthur’s hand in his or to just close that minute space between them, and remember-‘Stop, he’s on the rebound; he prefers girls, he just needs a friend; you’re just flirting, it doesn’t mean he wants what you do.’
Arthur was looking at him funny, and Merlin wasn’t sure why, but it put an itch under his skin. He wanted to do something.
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“What’s wrong?” Arthur took the hand Merlin held out to help him up and was pulled to his feet.
“It’s been too long since I fucked with the system, I’ve gotta do something.”
“What?” the blond laughed.
“Follow me-stay down.” Merlin stooped so that his head wasn’t visible above the bookshelves and Arthur couldn’t think of what else to do but follow suit. Merlin stopped in front of a wall of shelves and began pulling random tomes off of it, handing them to Arthur.
“Bibles? What are you doing? You’re not buying all these, are you?”
“No, we’re…recategorizing them.” Merlin grabbed an armful himself, glanced around them, and slipped over into another section. When Arthur spotted the sign indicating genre, he burst out laughing. “Shut up!” hissed Merlin. “You’re gonna get us caught!”
“The fantasy section, Merlin?” He followed Merlin’s lead and started sticking the books into open spaces in the shelves.
“It only took Frankenfurter seven days to make a man as well, but does he get any praise?”
“Yeah, actually,” said Arthur. “That old second-run theatre, the last Saturday night of every month.”
Merlin paused and looked at him. “I love that you know that.”
“If we go, I’m definitely outing you as a Virgin.”
Merlin laughed. “I haven’t been called that in a while.” A King James slipped from Arthur’s hand and landed on his foot. “Easy, boy.”
“It-fell off the shelf,” Arthur tried to save himself, but there was a hint of a blush creeping up his neck. It made Merlin feel bold-bold enough to grab his hand, pseudo-casually, rather than his sleeve to tug him towards the back of the store. “What now?”
“Well we can’t leave those shelves empty,” said Merlin. He dragged Arthur to the children’s section, of all places, but what absolutely took the cake was when they removed every last book, trinket and toy from the Harry Potter display and filled the vacant shelves with them.
Arthur was just setting the last stuffed owl keychain on a pile of copies of The Prisoner of Azkaban when Merlin pulled him between two stacks, caught his heel on the corner of the shelving, and fell, bringing Arthur down on top of him.
“Are you all right?”
“Yeah, I’m fine. Sorry; we were-ow-seen.” Merlin was acutely aware of how very close Arthur’s face was to his. “Uh…I… I didn’t…” It was suddenly impossibly difficult to string together a coherent thought; Arthur was giving him that funny look again, “...mean to….uh, j-jump you…”
“What did you mean to do?” Arthur asked softly. He had Merlin pinned and didn’t seem to be moving anytime soon.
“I…” Had that guy really been looking at them? Or had he just been passing by a few aisles down? Had Merlin just wanted him to be looking? He certainly hadn’t had to yank Arthur away like he did. “…I don’t know,” he whispered.
One, perhaps two, perhaps a thousand agonizing seconds passed, and Arthur very carefully closed the distance between them and pressed his lips softly to Merlin’s.
Several books on the floor later, they were escorted out of the store by a pair of embarrassed, disgruntled employees. It suited them just fine, though-they continued in Arthur’s car, shameless.
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I just love this story.
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