Kink Me! #4
Kink Me! #4 Closed to new prompts Welcome to Kink Me! Merlin #4!
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Uther's waiting for him when he gets in. He doesn't say anything at first, just looks him up and down slowly, before issuing a curt goodnight. Arthur watches from the hallway as his father disappears up the stairs, at a loss for what to think, let alone say.
It feels worse, in a way, than if Uther had demanded to know where he'd been. He's edgier now, knowing that although his transgression hasn't been addressed, it's been noted, and it won't be forgotten.
Arthur knows he might as well forget sleep for a while. He goes into the kitchen, and as he sits alone at the table, something ugly takes hold of him and he feels his hands start to shake. He tries to fight it. He doesn't want to be angry with Uther, who's spent his life taking care of him, but still, he can't help resenting how easily his father can do this; how he can turn something that was starting to feel a little bit brilliant into something that he feels ashamed of, with just a look and a word.
#
The next morning, Arthur feels like shit. He can't remember when he finally dropped off to sleep, but he can remember waking up, over and over, sleep-dazed and terror-struck that Uther somehow knows about him and Merlin.
Him and Merlin.
That, at least, produces a smile, and Arthur savours it, heartened to discover that something good from last night has been left intact. He manages to hold onto that feeling all the way downstairs to the breakfast room, where he sees Uther waiting for him.
'I don't suppose,' Uther says, as their housekeeper serves them coffee, 'you'd like to tell me how you got those marks on your neck?'
Arthur nearly drops his toast. 'What marks?' he says.
'Those marks. On your neck.' His tone is casual, friendly almost, but Arthur's been there before, too many times, and he knows this is anything but what it seems.
'Oh. Those,' he says, going cold. He has no idea what, exactly, Uther can see; Merlin could have scrawled his name on there in marker pen for all he knows. Mostly, he hopes that he hasn't. 'Uh, me and Elena ...' he says, wilting under the force of Uther's gaze.
'Elena?' Uther response is far too conversational for Arthur's liking. 'That doesn't seem like her. You had better not have you got yourself mixed up with the village scum.'
'It's the truth, I swear,' Arthur says. The palms of his hands are clammy; he's sure Uther's on the verge of noticing that something's amiss.
'I sincerely hope so,' Uther says. He still looks displeased. 'You know how I disapprove of lying. I can see how you might be tempted by those who are less upstanding than the Pendragons and the Godwyns, but you are my son, and we have standards to uphold.'
'I was with Elena,' Arthur says, and attempts as cocky and knowing a grin as he can muster. 'Mr. Godwyn was in bed; I came in for a while and ... well ... you know.'
'Actually, no I don't,' says Uther, smiling coldly. 'Perhaps you'd care to enlighten me?'
Arthur can feel the blood run from his face; he starts to protest again, but Uther cuts him off.
'William Godwyn is an important man and a friend of mine. We both have expectations, and it will not do to disappoint either one of us. I will not have the potential joining of our families ruined by a scandal. You will modify your behaviour, Arthur, or I will be forced to take action.'
'Yes, father,' he says. Uther has only been forced to take action a couple of times; Arthur doesn't want there to be another.
Apparently satisfied, Uther gets up and goes to work. It might be New Year's Day, but nothing ever stops for the business. More so recently, Arthur's noticed. Uther rarely discusses the details with him, but veiled comments and half-heard phone conversations are enough for Arthur to know that whatever is going on, it's big.
It's a relief when the front door slams, and he hurries over to a mirror to inspect his neck. There's hardly anything there, just a tiny, reddish mark just below his jaw. He wonders if it will hurt to touch, and he runs his finger along it. It doesn't. He might just be imagining it, but the skin feels warmer there than anywhere else.
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Even though Uther doesn't mention it again, his behaviour towards Arthur changes almost immediately.
Each minute outside the house needs to be justified, and any activity Uther disapproves of is vetoed. One night, Uther calls him into his study and spends an hour going through every number on Arthur's phone bill until they're all accounted for. Uther's been opening his mail for years, so that's nothing new. Arthur's not quite sure how long he's been checking his browsing history, but he's never been stupid enough to have left anything incriminating.
It's not as if Uther didn't keep a close eye on him before, but now it feels like the walls are closing in on him. It wouldn't have been so bad if Merlin hadn't been part of the equation, not that it would matter either way, as he can't change things. Short of turning Uther into a completely different person, he thinks, but he doesn't want that, not really. It's unfair to think that when knows how impossible it would be to change who he is.
But even this small patch of common ground is marked with differences: for Uther to lead the life he wants to, Arthur knows, with gut wrenching finality, that this means he should let this thing with Merlin go. With this level of scrutiny, anything else would be impossible.
He tries hard not to dwell on it; he does what he normally does when he can't see a way out of a problem, and carries on regardless. It's hard to put Merlin out of his mind. It feels wrong, almost, that he's trying so hard to do something, when all he really wants is to get into his car and drive back to Gaius' cottage.
#
It's harder and easier once he's back at school. Harder because Merlin's constant presence is so tangible he can almost taste it, and there are so many ways Arthur could see him, if he wanted to. But knowing that makes it all the easier to steer clear; it's just a matter of remembering all the places they'd usually run into one another, and avoiding them.
Unfortunately, that doesn't mean he doesn't miss Merlin. He feels like a part of him has been removed, something else he doesn't let himself think too deeply about. It would be easy if he could just draw a line under everything and just get on with being the son Uther wanted, but Merlin, it seems, is already too ingrained in the fabric of his life for that to happen.
But despite that, it works well. For the first few days he only catches fleeting glimpses. It works so well, in fact, that he realises the extent of their unspoken complicity: walking down corridors at exactly the right time; waiting a little too long between classes; walking that little bit too slowly after school so their paths can cross. It occurs to him that Merlin will be wondering why, suddenly, he's not playing anymore, and he feels even more agitated, but he simply doesn't know what else to do.
He hates how cowardly this makes him, the one thing he thought he wasn't. Every time they pass in the corridor, Arthur walks past without stopping, head down, even though it causes him physical pain to do so. There's just one time he allows himself to look back, and he sees Merlin standing completely still, staring back at him. He looks confused, but he looks hurt and a little angry too.
Arthur can't find words for how this makes him feel; he isn't sure he wants to. It's not my fault, he wants to shout, at no one in particular. Instead, he hardly says a word to anyone. He knows that it's just himself that he's angry with, and the fact that, no matter what, he can't quite make himself defy Uther.
If anyone notices, they don't say so, though Elena gives him a funny look whenever he disappears without saying anything. Before Christmas, he and Merlin would usually find a good enough reason to study together during their free periods. Now, Arthur finds himself in the farthest corner of the library, hunched over a book; he can't let Uther down with his grades on top of everything else. Still, more often than not, his fingers stray unconsciously to a particular spot on his neck and trace the shape, long since faded, that Merlin left there.
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At home, Arthur has too much time to think and without the distraction of school his mind slips back, easily, to Merlin, and what things could be like if things were different. There are a few times where he's almost got himself convinced that maybe, somehow, it could work, but Uther always brings him firmly back to earth.
By Friday evening, when he and Uther have their regular weekly meal together, Arthur has made it through one almost Merlin-free week. He chews his food, disinterested, forcing each bite down.
'I need to speak to you about your future,' Uther says, looking up from his laptop. 'The business is taking a new direction, and I need you to be there to lead it, when the time comes.'
Arthur nods away while Uther drones on about business and politics. He's long known Uther's feelings on what he terms as society's moral decay but now, it seems, he might have enough money to do something about it, and Arthur is apparently very much part of the plan.
'Getting our view across will be so much easier with someone like you at the helm,' Uther says. 'You're young, bright, the embodiment of what people want to be. And once they know what you stand for, then they'll be hard pressed not to see things our way.'
'But what about what I think?' Arthur asks. Uther hasn't said much about what his ideas exactly, and his lack of explicitness is making Arthur feel uneasy. 'If I disagree with you and the board, I can hardly represent you can I?'
'Nonsense,' says Uther. He's smiling, but his jaw's set tightly. 'You think the same way as I do. We're Pendragons. Anyone who doesn't stand for what we do, stands in our way, eh, Arthur?'
Arthur nods; he knows all about what they stand for. Uther's second cousin, Morgana's mother, found out the hard way when she divorced her husband. Uther tolerates Morgana, just about, for appearances sake, but her mother might as well be dead to him.
Uther sweeps off to take a call, and Arthur's future is settled, just like that. Arthur sits at the table, digesting what's just been said and trying to understand where he fits into it. He looks down at his barely eaten dinner and can't remember when he's felt so alone. He gets his phone out of his pocket and lets his finger hover over the keys for a few seconds. He knows the number off by heart, but he's never saved it. He's not stupid. He puts the phone away.
#
Merlin isn't at church on Sunday, and Arthur tries to tell himself that he's relieved, not disappointed, or sorry, or just plain concerned about where he is. After the service ends, he waits till Uther drives away, and tells the others he'll catch them up. He does, half an hour later, but not before he's raced over to Gaius' and lurked around outside until he's caught sight of him.
#
Inevitably, though, they come face to face with one other. It's a few days after the weekend, and they're both walking to their next class; but this time they're crowded by people on both sides and Arthur can't walk past without at least an acknowledgment. He nods quickly, not meaning to meet Merlin's eyes, but he does, and it's as if the tumult of the past couple of weeks melts away. At last, he's calm.
'Er, hi,' Merlin says. He ruffles his hair and it falls over his eyes; he looks through it cautiously, shifting from one foot to another. For a few moments, Arthur can't do anything but stare at him. 'How've you been?'
'Okay,' Arthur manages. 'Um.'
'Right,' says Merlin, his eyes narrowing. 'Well then, if that's everything, I've got a class to ... ' Merlin trails off, his hands gesturing in the general direction of the science block. As he turns to go, Arthur feels his stomach flip over.
'Merlin, stop,' he says. 'It isn't everything.'
Merlin raises an eyebrow and stands there, waiting.
'Not here,' says Arthur, and drags him in to a deserted classroom.
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'I lied,' Arthur says, when the door finally clicks shut. 'I'm not okay. Nothing's okay, really.'
Merlin is leaning against a desk, one ankle over the other, watching him pace around nervously through distant, uncertain eyes.
Merlin shakes his head. 'Arthur,' he says, 'If you made a mistake, I'd rather you just came out and said it. You don't need to ignore me. Anything's better than this. The last few days ...'
'It's Uther,' Arthur says, coming to a stop in front of Merlin. 'I thought he knew. About us. Merlin, you don't know what he'd do if he found out.'
Merlin glared darkly at a spot on the wall. 'I think I've got a pretty good idea,' he says. 'But Arthur,' and his voice is softer this time, 'you can't let him rule your life like this.'
'It's better this way,' Arthur says. 'It's easier for everyone.'
'So the stalking around outside my house on Sunday?' Merlin says, one eyebrow raised. 'That was things being easy for you, was it?'
'You weren't at church,' Arthur says, thinking Fuck. 'I wanted to know where you were. I was worried.'
'I couldn't face you,' Merlin says, his voice quiet. 'All that week at school, not a word. Not even hello, for fucks sake. I tried to talk to you; I tried to catch your eye so many times, but you blanked me.'
'I'm sorry.'
Merlin frowns at him and breathes out heavily. 'It was fairly obvious what was wrong, Arthur. I told you that you might regret it, but you didn't have to treat me like that. You could have said something.'
Arthur bites his lip and looks away. 'That's easy for you to say. I don't have a choice. He's all I've got.'
'Ah,' Merlin says, a frown creasing his forehead, 'so it's not better this way at all. It's better for Uther this way.'
Arthur hangs his head. 'From my position, it amounts to approximately the same thing.'
'Don't you have anyone else? What about Morgana? She's family, isn't she?'
'Barely. Uther cut her family off years ago; I don't want that to happen to me.'
'He'd do that?' Merlin says, 'Seriously?' Then, more subdued, when Arthur doesn't give him a reply: 'Fuck. I'm sorry.'
'Yeah,' Arthur says. 'I'm sorry too.'
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Merlin pulls Arthur down to sit next to him on the desk, and sidles closer, so their hands almost touch. 'And I had such high hopes for this little diversion,' he says, with a wry chuckle.
'Yeah?' Arthur tries to sound casual, but really, he's breathing in Merlin's proximity after too long an absence. Just having him there, next to him, is making him start to rethink pretty much every assertion he's just made.
'I thought that we'd at least be making out by now.'
'What?' Arthur says. He appreciates Merlin trying to lighten the mood, but dangling this in front of him is just cruel.
'Well?' Merlin says. 'It might put a smile on your face, at least.'
Apparently he's serious, as he grabs Arthur's hands and pulls him in so they're facing one another. They're so close now that Arthur can smell the scent of Merlin's hair, and the faintly spicy shower gel he must use.
He wonders if this is the point at which he should probably protest. He thinks about moving back, but really, there is only one possible direction he's going in. 'I should probably point out,' he says with a nervous laugh, a last ditch attempt to avoid something he wants so much he feels like he's going to die if he doesn't get it, 'that I've only ever kissed one other person, and that was Elena, so if you weren't disappointed last week, then you might well be now.'
'You could have fooled me,' says Merlin. He stands up and pulls Arthur up with him, so the full length of their bodies are touching. 'Still, we should probably try and remedy that lack of experience,' he says, wrapping his arms about Arthur's waist.
Arthur whispers another apology, his lips skimming just under Merlin's cheekbone. Their faces are touching now, and all he can see is pale skin at very close range. He hears a shhhing sound, forgiveness, he hopes, for the idiot he's been for the past week, and then he feels Merlin's lips finally meet his.
#
By the time the bell goes to signal the next period, Merlin's hair is a mess, and his shirt and tie aren't looking much better. Arthur looks up at him from where he's sprawled across a desk, and raises himself up onto his elbows, a dazed, ridiculous smile on his face.
'Fuck,' Merlin says, wiping at his mouth. 'I don't know how I'm going to get through the rest of today.'
Arthur stands up to tuck his shirt back into his trousers. 'There's always tomorrow,' he says, grinning at him.
This is something brilliant, he decides, his hand pressed to the small of Merlin's back as they peek out of the door. At the back of his mind he knows it will only last as long as they're inside this Merlin and Arthur shaped bubble, but right now he feels more like himself that he has done in years.
'Stop,' says Arthur, just as they leave the classroom, and he stops to straighten Merlin's tie. Seconds later, the double door at the end of the corridor bursts open and pupils start to spill through. Arthur and Merlin laugh as they walk past them, side by side, the backs of their hands brushing together, almost never losing contact, completely unnoticed by anyone but themselves.
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After that everything seems to slip, unremarkably, into place.
Months later, when things have changed again - irreversibly, Arthur will come to think - it will seem like the few weeks they had left were charmed, somehow.
He had been so sure that pushing Merlin away was the best course of action, right up to the point where he realised that it wasn't. Now the decision's been made, he's even more surprised than Merlin at how okay he is with it; at times he almost feels giddy.
School is suddenly full of possibilities, not that much can happen in the short spaces of shared, free time they have, but the fact that there are possibilities at all, that Arthur doesn't have to limit all of his hopes to his daydreams, makes him feel more free. More daring, somehow. More determined not to take a second of this for granted.
Even Merlin seems a little surprised at the change in him.
'Are you sure?' he asks, one afternoon. They're supposed to be clearing out a store cupboard full of old books for Mr Monmouth, but that lasts all of five minutes before Arthur's got him pressed up against the wall, hands slipping under his shirt and then dipping below his waistband to connect with skin he's been itching to touch all day.
'Mmm,' is all Arthur manages in reply. It's not the most articulate response, but when Merlin pulls him in for a slow, deep kiss, he supposes it might have been the right one.
#
It's not quite so straightforward on Sundays; the others are always there, and opportunities are limited, even when they do present themselves. Then, each casual brush of bare skin, or warmly clothed arms, or legs, each playful shove; every one of these things becomes a coded promise for a later time and place.
One time after church, Merlin smiles and offers him some of his bottled water. Their hands graze together and, just for a moment, Arthur almost forgets to breathe. But it's not just touch, it's the look they exchange that makes Arthur's insides twist together so tightly it almost burns. When he sees Merlin take a little involuntary breath, he knows that's all either of them will be thinking about until Monday.
Another time, they wait until everyone else leaves and they sit together in the grass talking about Merlin's home town and all it means to him. As they head back along the riverbank, they pass a couple walking hand in hand, stopping every so often to kiss, winding tighter together with every step. Arthur can't help wondering how it might feel to kiss or hold hands or even touch with other people around. For a second, he wants it so fiercely that before he can think about what he's doing, he stops dead still, presses Merlin back into the shade of a nearby tree and kisses him, silencing the few protests that escape from his mouth.
#
'It's funny, isn't it?' Merlin says, under his breath, on the way home from school one day, 'that no one ever seems to notice.'
Elena, Percival and Gwaine are walking ahead of them; they're all heading into town for a quick coffee. Uther's in London all day, so Arthur is making the most of this unexpected window of time by joining them.
He shrugs. It's not the first time Merlin's mentioned it, and Arthur's kind of surprised at his own lack of concern, too. He's caught the others - Morgana and Elena mainly - giving them odd looks now and again, and he's wondered about it at the back of his mind. He thinks that maybe he should bring it to the forefront, but he gets the feeling that if he tried to slow the pace this thing seems to be setting for itself - if he goes against the flow just a little - then it might stop altogether. It's just an instinct, and probably an irrational one, but he isn't used to sharing half-articulated notions like these, so that feeling's the only thing he has to go on.
'We should be careful,' Merlin says, bumping shoulders. 'It's not just Uther we've got to think about.'
Arthur looks over at the others; Morgana has joined their group now, and she turns to give Arthur her usual cold, appraisal before returning her attention to the others.
'It's fine,' says Arthur, a little abruptly, though privately he's touched that Merlin is thinking about it at all.
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It's Arthur's birthday a few weeks later. He never really feels like celebrating; it's the anniversary of his mother's death, and usually, there are other more pressing considerations on that day.
Uther's drunk by the time he gets home from school, but instead of passing out like he usually does, he keeps talking and talking, making less sense as time goes on. For the last few hours of it, all Arthur's really been doing is was nodding and agreeing until, finally, at around three or four o'clock in the morning, Uther sleeps. Before he turns in himself, Arthur presses a tissue to the tear tracks on his father's cheeks and tucks a quilt over him. They won't talk about it tomorrow. They never do.
He's running late the next morning and when he reaches the others, they're just starting to head inside. Morgana, Gwaine and Merlin are talking excitedly in a tight little group. He sees Merlin grins from ear to ear as Morgana gives him a hug, her smile faltering when she catches sight of him.
He's never really worked out why Morgana doesn't like him. The business with Uther probably hasn't helped, and, okay, he was pretty obnoxious when he was younger, but he isn't that person any more, and he's definitely not Uther. The funny thing is, he's always made sure she's included in things, even if her mother isn't. It's one of the few issues he's openly disagreed with Uther about. It's also one of the very few battles he's won, though sometimes Uther's relative acquiescence makes him wonder whether he might have been inclined to accept her anyway.
Before he reaches Merlin to ask him what all the fuss is about, Morgana takes his arm.
'Uther asked me to give this to you,' she says, brandishing a brochure about a summer school; he was usually packed off somewhere during the holidays. 'He stopped and gave me a lift to school. Oh, and he said to tell you that he's been called away to France; he won't be back for a few days.'
'Uh. Okay, thanks Morgana,' Arthur says, taking the brochure. It's a little odd that Uther has chosen to speak to her when he could have avoided it, but as soon as he turns to Merlin he forgets his suspicions.
'Hey,' Arthur says, 'what have I missed?'
'It's my Mum,' Merlin says. His eyes are shining; he looks happy, but there's something else lurking within his normally open expression that's harder to define, and Arthur's heart skips a nervous beat.
'Is everything okay? She's not taken a turn for the worse, has she?'
'No -' Merlin says, but he's interrupted by Morgana.
'She's well enough to leave hospital,' she says, not taking her eyes off Arthur. 'She'll be out in a few days, and Merlin can go back home. Isn't that great?'
Stunned, Arthur can't speak at all for a few seconds but, aware of Morgana's watchful gaze, he manages: 'Yes. Yes that's great. Brilliant,' because it is great, Merlin's mum getting better. How could it not be?
Merlin smiles at him shyly, and there's that strange little look again; Arthur knows what it's about, really, and he doesn't want to face it, yet.
Arthur blinks; suddenly, everything happening too fast, and he can't concentrate on anything at all. He needs to get some air.
'Arthur,' Merlin says, reaching for his arm.
'Got to go,' he says. He turns and walks away blindly, no real idea where he's going. He can feel Merlin's confused eyes following him, but hard on the heels of his news - the very good news that he should be very happy about - is that tight, restricting feeling that comes when Uther asks him too many questions, or he thinks about the future too much, or for too long.
Now he knows it's all about to change back again, the reality of how temporary things between him and Merlin were always going to be, hits him like a slap around the face.
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Sometime later - it could be minutes, or hours, for all he knows - he feels a tugging at his elbow and then a light pressure, urging him to turn. He knows who it is without looking.
Arthur forces himself to look up. He has no idea how he's ended up at the art block.
'I wanted to tell you myself,' Merlin says. 'I wanted to tell you before the others got there, but Gaius must have said something and ... you know how fast word travels here.'
'It doesn't matter,' Arthur says with a short laugh. 'I knew you weren't here forever.'
'I'm sorry,' Merlin says. 'I don't know what to say to make it better. I mean. I knew I'd be going back, and it's great news for me and Mum, but ...'
But what? Arthur thinks. He knows he doesn't mean it, really, but all he wants to do right now is push away every memory of him and Merlin and forget any of it ever happened. If this is the end, he doesn't want any long, drawn out goodbyes. He doesn't want memories to torture himself with for months - years, maybe - to come. He'd rather have nothing, than that, because if he's learnt anything in the short time he's let himself open up and want things that are never going to happen, it's that after Merlin, this is going to be it for him.
'How long?' he says, keeping any emotion from his voice. 'How long till you go?'
Merlin shifts nervously from one foot to another. 'Saturday. Tomorrow,' he says, voice barely a whisper. 'Arthur, talk to me, please. It's not the end of the world. We can still --'
Tomorrow.
'Right,' he says, numbly. 'Well I guess I'll see you around then.'
#
The rest of the morning passes in a blur, but by the time the bell goes for lunch, Arthur's already regretting what he's said.
He's not quick to anger most of the time, but sometimes, when he's been pushed too hard he just reacts, and words he doesn't mean come spilling out of his mouth before he can do a thing about it.
Merlin's sitting with the others when Arthur arrives. He doesn't go to sit next to him like he usually does - there isn't a space anyway, he notes, a little disconsolately. There's one opposite, though, and after a hurried debate with himself, he sits and risks a quick glance at Merlin.
He wishes he hadn't. His normally pale skin is ashen.
' - but I don't see why you don't want a bit of a send off,' Gwaine is saying, blustering, presumably, as the chance for a party slips out if reach. 'If it's I.D. you're worried about, then my sister works at the pub and it's fine.'
'I'm not bothered, honestly,' Merlin says. He hasn't touched his lunch, Arthur notices. 'I've got to pack and ... I'm just not in the mood, you know? But we're going to keep in touch, yeah?'
Merlin is met with a murmur of begrudging acceptance, but everyone knows him well enough to know that once he makes up his mind he rarely changes it.
'Bit of a shame for you,' Morgana says to Arthur under her breath, 'what with Uther away tonight and all. You might actually have shown your face for a change.'
Arthur ignores her in favour of his sandwich and waits until another conversation else grabs her attention before catching Merlin's eye.
'What have you got this afternoon?' he says to him, as the others talk.
Merlin looks at him like he's just grown another head. 'I've got a free period and then maths,' he says and then, quietly. 'You know that.'
'Can we ... is it okay if we. Just. After lunch?' Arthur's not sure if he's ever struggled for words more in his life. He wants to blurt out an apology, but there are too many people there for that.
'Study together?' Merlin says, his lips forming a smile that's far too brief. 'Sure, if you want.'
Arthur nods, and has to drag his eyes away before people really do start to notice. He's so exhausted from the night before that he doesn't even know what he's going to say to Merlin. He shuts his eyes for a second, and the next thing he realises is that someone's kicking him, very gently, from under the table, to get his attention.
He looks up to see Merlin smiling at him. 'Come on, sleepyhead' he says. 'Let's go.'
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'It's not your fault,' Merlin says, taking Arthur's hands in his, long fingers stroking over broad wrists. 'I handled it all wrong. I should have known Gaius couldn't keep his mouth shut. I should have said something to him.'
'Not your fault either,' Arthur whispers. He looks down at where their fingers interlock; he's never felt the passing of time, and its irreversible effects, as keenly as he does in this moment. I might never get to do this again, he thinks, and pulls Merlin closer to him.
'Come over this evening,' he whispers into Merlin's ear, as they fold into one another. 'Uther's away; he won't be back for days. I can't say goodbye like this.'
Merlin doesn't say anything, but he curls their fingers together more tightly, and Arthur can feel his heartbeat racing and his breath quicken.
'Please?' Arthur says, pulling back and peppering his face with kisses he knows Merlin can't resist.
'Arthur, I - yes, of course I will,' Merlin says, and then, after a few moments consideration: 'I don't want you to think that this is the end.'
But what Merlin doesn't understand is that regardless of what either of them want, it most definitely will be the end. Arthur could offer him little enough while he was here. After he goes, there'll be nothing at all.
---
thanks for your comments, and for reading! (I would have put this earlier, but ... character limits ... )
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Although Uther's secretary assures him that his father will most definitely be out of the country for the next few days, Arthur's still a bit jumpy about it. He trusts Morgana, despite how she is with him sometimes, but, even so, she could have got the message wrong. After all, the detail of when, exactly, Uther was coming back wouldn't have mattered to her.
A shudder of excitement runs through him as he paces up and down the hallway, waiting for the housekeeper to finish up and leave for the night. Even though he has plenty of friends, he never has people over. It's just easier to see them without the prospect of Uther's disapproving scrutiny and with Merlin, there's the added risk that the second Uther so much as sees them together, Arthur has himself convinced that his secret desires will be laid out under the force of his father's merciless, penetrating gaze.
#
He pulls Merlin into the house. 'Does anyone know you're here?' he says, wishing he didn't have to ask.
'I told Gaius I was seeing friends,' Merlin says, and gives out a low whistle as he wheels around to take in the sheer scale of the hallway. 'You're the last person he'll think I'm with.'
'Okay,' says Arthur. He's still a little on edge, but there's something about Merlin walking around his house that warms him, and makes him wonder what it would be like if, one day, they could have something a bit like this for themselves, only probably with fewer chandeliers. He reaches for Merlin's hands partly to steady his own, and partly to bring him to a standstill and kiss him lightly on the lips. 'Let's go inside. We can, you know, sit.'
'Sit?' Merlin says, reaching up to brush Arthur's hair out of his eyes before kissing him back. 'I suppose that might work.'
Arthur sort of has it in his mind to show Merlin around the house because he supposes that's what people do, but they've barely made it into the living room - one of them anyway - before Merlin grabs his arm and pulls him down onto the sofa.
'Fuck the guided tour,' he laughs, his breath warm against Arthur's neck. 'I want you right here for as long as I've got you.'
Arthur wants to protest, a lingering sense of propriety dictating that they should, at least, take this to the bedroom, but as ever, Merlin makes a good case, and he doesn't want to waste a second of time either.
#
'Er, Arthur,' Merlin says, an hour or so later. He pushes himself off of Arthur's lap so they're sitting side by side, his eyes a little hazy and his mouth swollen dark red. 'We should probably talk.'
Arthur grimaces and sits up. Merlin has been trying to get a word in for some time now, but Arthur has, so far, managed to shut him up one way or the other because he knows what's coming: the talk about what happens next. The thing is, he knows the answer, and he wants to put it off for as long as he can.
'After I go ...' Merlin starts, and then trails off, looking away from him. He takes a deep breath and tries again. 'After I go ... I know you might not want to stay in touch. We're not even, you know, together properly or anything. But ... I'd like to, and ...'
Arthur catches one of his hands and covers it with his own. 'Hey,' he says. 'Whatever gave you that idea?'
Merlin gives him a slow, searching look, and Arthur realises that his light, carefree exterior has, to some extent been as much of a sham as Arthur's own that evening, both of them trying to ignore the huge, ticking clock that marks the hours and minutes they have left. Merlin bites his lip. 'Well, you've avoided the subject every time I've tried to bring it up. I mean, no one's forcing you or anything. But. Well, I thought ...'
'Merlin,' Arthur says, softly, 'of course I want to keep seeing you. I just can't see a way to do it; that's why I haven't wanted to talk about it. My father doesn't even know we're friends, and he wouldn't like it if he did. I can't see him agreeing to trips to the south coast every few weeks. '
Merlin rolls his eyes. 'I know that,' he says, looking at Arthur as if he's stupid. 'But nothing's stopping me from coming here.'
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