Kink Me! #4
Kink Me! #4 Closed to new prompts Welcome to Kink Me! Merlin #4!
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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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'What?' Arthur says.
'Well,' Merlin says, with the delighted smile he reserves usually for the - few in Arthur's opinion - times he manages to get one over on him, 'I'm sure no one's going to raise any objections if I visit Gaius a little more often. I could come on Sundays, meet up with you and the others.'
'Sounds like you've got it all worked out,' Arthur says, and even though he can already think of twenty ways it won't work, it still feels good that Merlin wants this - wants him - enough not to let little things like reality get in the way.
'I know what you're thinking,' Merlin says, taking his hand, 'I can almost bloody hear it, and it wouldn't have to be forever. You finish school this year, and you'll have more freedom at Uni. You could start to, you know, think about the life you want.'
Arthur studies the earnest face looking back at him. It's obvious that Merlin believes that it's possible, but the sorts of choices he's talking about seem so abstract and so distant that his imagination has trouble stretching that far. He opens his mouth, ready to let Merlin down gently, but before he gets a word out, his mind flits back to the moment when Merlin walked into his house, when he started to imagine what it would be like if they were truly together. The thought alone sends a bolt of something hot and cold and almost breathtaking through him, and he wonders if, maybe, they could do this.
'But why? Why would you go to all this trouble?' Arthur asks. 'You're going home. You can find someone who's around all the time, not just for a few hours every month or so.'
Merlin frowns a little, like he thinks the answer's obvious. 'Because you're you,' he says, bringing a hand up to cup Arthur's cheek. Arthur doesn't really understand, but he leans into the contact anyway. 'You're a good person, and you're going to be a great person.'
Arthur laughs. 'I think you've got me wrong,' he says.
'I haven't,' Merlin says, softly. 'You can't see it.'
I'm a coward and a liar and a terrible son, Arthur thinks. 'Whoever you think I am, I'm not,' he says.
Merlin shakes his head and then lowers eyes, like he always does when he's about to say something about Uther. 'People listen to you, Arthur. People like you. You might think that you're just an extension of your father, but you're not. You care about people in ways that he doesn't. That a lot of people don't. I could tell that from the moment I met you.'
Arthur shuts his eyes briefly. Even though he doesn't quite know how or why Merlin thinks all these things - if anything, it's him that should be getting all the compliments - but it's just so fucking welcome having someone know him, and believe in him, that for a second he feels like he could do anything he wanted to.
'I hope you're right,' he says.
'I know I'm right,' Merlin says, smiling widely. 'I've got a feeling, and I'm not often wrong about this sort of thing.' He draws Arthur back onto the sofa with him and then they're kissing again, but soon that isn't nearly enough for either of them, and Merlin wriggles out of his t-shirt and helps Arthur work on his, before turning his attention to his jeans.
Mesmerised, Arthur needs a few seconds to take Merlin in.
Up until now, he hasn't really seen him. Not like this. He's felt inch after inch of his skin, with Merlin backed up and trembling against the wall of a deserted classroom; he's caught flashes of his pale, warm flesh as they've lain, side by side, in the grass by the river, hands drifting in and out of layers of clothes when no one was looking. But it's always been stolen, incomplete moments, and now Merlin is completely there, in front of him, he can hardly force the breath in and out of his lungs as he leans forward, almost shyly, to touch him.
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Afterwards, when they're leaning into one another, still breathing rapidly, Arthur looks at Merlin and smiles, and wishes he knew how to stretch this moment out indefinitely.
Merlin smiles back at him, genuine but cautious. It's the smile he uses when he thinks that Arthur might have pushed himself too far in one direction, and he's worried that he might be freaking out about it. When Arthur looks down at his hands, sticky, and goes cold as he remembers that they've both just come all over his father's sofa, he realises that Merlin probably has a point.
'Good thing this is leather,' he says with a giggle that's bordering on hysterical. For a few seconds, Merlin looks at him as if he's mad, until he finally gets what he's talking about and starts to laugh too, and then, suddenly everything's all right again.
#
'I know it won't be the same,' Merlin says, after they've used Arthur's t-shirt to clean up. 'It won't be like school, but it'd be something. If you wanted it, that is.'
'Of course I want it,' Arthur says, his voice choked. Then: 'You will come back, won't you?' Because even though he trusts Merlin, he still needs to ask that question, just in case the answer is no, that he might, somehow, have got it all wrong.
Merlin swallows, and pulls Arthur into a hug, his face brushing against the stubble of Arthur's cheek. 'Of course I will. Every chance I get,' he says, his breath a warm whisper against Arthur's collarbone. 'Will you be okay here?' he says. This time, his voice really is a whisper, his head buried into Arthur's shoulder like he doesn't really want to ask that question, because he might not like the answer.
Arthur's kisses to top of Merlin's head. 'Yes,' he says, then: 'No. I don't know. God, I honestly don't know.'
Merlin pulls back. 'I wish you could come with me,' he says. 'Arthur, I -'
But Arthur cuts him off with a kiss, and even there's so much more to be said, suddenly, he doesn't want there to be anything more important than press of skin against skin, and the warm, reassuring weight of Merlin alongside him.
'Arthur,' says Merlin, apparently still after an answer, but the way he groans and pushes his hips back against Arthur's makes it clear that this is a half-hearted protest at best.
'Upstairs,' Arthur says.
#
They don't mean to drift off to sleep, particularly since Arthur's got his trousers by his ankles, and Merlin's stomach is sticky and uncomfortable, but it happens anyway.
The first thing that wakes him is the unmistakeable sound of Uther's footsteps over the tiled corridor outside his room, just before he hears his bedroom door open with a quiet click.
'Father,' Arthur says, pulling a sheet over them. 'Father, I can explain.'
Uther ignores him and turns to Merlin, who is frantically pulling on his shirt and jeans.
'Get out,' he says, his eyes murderous. 'And pray that I never see you again.'
Merlin looks like he's going to say something, but Arthur's seen that look on Uther's face before, and gestures frantically for him to stop.
'Arthur,' Merlin mouths, and gives him a pleading look, but Arthur shakes his head, willing him to go before things start to get really ugly.
Reluctantly, Merlin falls silent. As reaches the door he pauses and hesitates for a second, as if he's going to say something, but it's forgotten as Uther turns and starts to walk towards him, and in the next instant he's gone.
As soon as the front door slams shut, Uther turns his full attention back to Arthur.
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Brilliant update, anon! I am in serious kind of love with this and can't wait for more! Everytime I see an update in my inbox I get the biggest smile on my face :D
The goodbye was so sweet and the glimpse of hope for the future made me really happy. Worried about Uther's reaction now and hope that everything doesn't completely fall apart.
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It's all so beautifully written, Anon. You have my heart breaking for these boys. I can't wait to see what happens next.
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He tries to talk to Uther, to make him understand what there is between him and Merlin. He hopes, with the stupid, ill-fated optimism that comes with the territory, that that alone will be enough. At the back of his mind, he knows it's pointless trying to explain or negotiate, but even panic stricken and desperate, he has to give it a try.
Uther waits until Arthur's finished before he looks at him, indifferent and disinterested, as if he's glancing over a stranger. He picks Arthur's phone up from the bedside table, tells him to get dressed, and leaves the room, locking the door behind him.
The next day, Uther is back in his room at dawn, and though he might not have slept a wink himself, Arthur's chest tightens at the sight of him. His father looks terrible, his eyes bloodshot and haunted, as if he hasn't slept for days.
Uther gives him a choice: he can either attend an intensive counselling programme that will help him make, as his father puts it, the right choices, or he can stay, and he'll make sure that Merlin and his mother are evicted from their house, and Gaius is never allowed to practice medicine again.
'I'll leave you to think it over,' he says. 'Don't think I can't make it happen.'
Arthur packs slowly, wondering how, in such a short space of time, everything could have changed so much again.
#
'This isn't the way you were meant to be,' Uther says, as they sit in the taxi on the way to the airport. 'It's not you. All you need is a push in the right direction. That boy,' he says, wrinkling his nose in disgust, 'was just a bad decision. You're not like that.'
Arthur clears his throat to tell Uther that, actually, he is very much like that, but Uther gets there first, saying: 'No son of mine would conduct themselves in that way. Do you understand, Arthur?'
When Arthur nods, Uther turns away and looks out of the window, signalling the end of the conversation. Arthur looks out the other side and passes the time staring at the drizzle that's collecting on the glass. At the check-in desk, he issues Arthur with a curt goodbye, and hands him over to one of his church cronies to chaperone him on his flight. He doesn't need to say anything else; the expression on his face says it all: Come back as the son I want, or not at all.
#
The next few weeks pass in a blur.
Arthur knows Uther donates heavily to organisations who claim to be able to change ones sexual orientation, but he's only ever had a vague notion of what that might entail, a well-meaning chat with an earnest individual at most. Where he ends up is stuck in a compound in the middle of a desert, sitting through group after seminar after one-to-one session on how he can change who he is, if he truly wants to.
In the first week, his shock at the loss of Merlin turns from numbness to anger at the people around him. It's short lived; Arthur may be an unwilling participant, but he just doesn't have it in him to stay angry with them if they genuinely believe in what they are doing.
Still, the strength of their convictions doesn't match their efficacy, and by the second week he realises that to ever get out of there, he going to have to do a better job of convincing them otherwise. The majority of his peers are in the same boat. Most have been sent by worried parents, horrified that their children are going against the teachings of their church. The only difference is that he suspects that some of them genuinely have a choice.
By the third week he's angry again, at Uther - finally at Uther - this time, but by then the isolation, from everything he knows and wants and cares for, weighs so heavily on him that his anger has nowhere to go except to collapse in on itself. Separation from Merlin is like a deep, open wound, and he's so homesick and kind of hollow with it that he starts to feel unsure of who he is and what he wants.
By the final week, he gives in. He tells them what he wants to hear. They buy it, believing that he'll return to England changed and happy. The worst thing about it is that even though he wants to believe he was the one in control of it, the truth of the matter is that he worries that it might have changed him, after all.
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