Kink Me! #4
Kink Me! #4 Closed to new prompts Welcome to Kink Me! Merlin #4!
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'He may look a bit the worse for wear,' says the policewoman, 'but I can assure you if it were not for his actions then the victim of the attack would be in a far more serious condition. He acted very bravely today; you should be proud of him, sir.'
A raised eyebrow from Uther is enough to demonstrate that she has overstepped the mark and, cowed, the officer lowers her eyes and waits with the others, for him to respond.
'So,' Uther says, resting a hand on Arthur's shoulder, 'finally taking on some social responsibility, son? I suppose that is something we could celebrate. It might even make the papers,' he muses thoughtfully.
'Oh, I should think so,' Morgana smirks.
Uther looks past Morgana to the officer, who nods. 'Almost definitely. Your son managed to head off a particularly brutal homophobic attack today,' she says.
'A what?' Uther says, going completely still.
Fuck, Arthur thinks, as the man's odd reaction when he returned his wallet to him - I don't think that was what they were after - starts to make a little more sense now.
'The attackers were well known to us,' the officer is saying, 'but they've always evaded arrest before. It seems they make it their business to target those whose, um, lifestyles,' she pauses, wrongfooted by Uther's utter lack of response, 'they disagree with. You son did a very selfless thing today. I'm sure many will want to thank him.'
Arthur wants to sink into the ground and die as the officer continues to commend him for his actions. He still can't bring himself to look at Uther, but he hopes that his own silence will somehow bring things to a close. He has no such luck; if anything, his reticence is spurring Morgana on to ask for more details which, in turn, attracts attention from Uther's sponsors and associates, who are gathering in small groups in the lobby, ready to be seated.
A quick glance in Uther's direction, as he dismisses the officer, confirms Arthur's fears: his father is absolutely livid. But now this new detail about the attack has started to sink in, he finds that something else is weighing far more heavily on his mind and his breath catches in his throat as he imagines if Merlin had been their victim instead, and no one had stopped to help ...
The thought of Merlin ambling into that situation, simply in the wrong place at the wrong time, chills Arthur's blood and his guts twist with some raw, undefinable emotion that he supposes could be fear, or panic, or simply that he's trapped in a situation that feels very, very wrong.
He can feel his heart thudding in his chest at the idea that harm might just as easily have come to Merlin, and he wouldn't have been in a position to anything about it. It takes so much of his concentration not to leave the lobby and find a phone and call, just to check that he's alright, that he doesn't realise that Uther's talking to him until he feels a hand on his shoulder, shaking him roughly.
'What is wrong with you today, Arthur?' Uther says, in a furious whisper. 'First you risk your life to rescue some worthless deviant, and get a good man arrested into the bargain; now you're off with the fairies. Are you sure you didn't get more than a bump on the head?'
'My head's fine,' Arthur says, even though, really, his world feels like it's starting to spin out of control. 'And I wasn't aware I did anything wrong.'
Uther steps forward, crowding him. 'The fuck you didn't,' he says, his raised voice attracting the interest of a few more people in the lobby, some of whom are discreetly filming the exchange on their phones. 'Can you remember who we're here to meet today? People who share the same views as us; people we rely on for sponsorship. We stand for moral values, Arthur. Family values. If any of our people catch wind that your antics have been enabling the sort of morally bankrupt behaviour we stand against. Well,' Uther says, his index finger stabbing into Arthur's chest, 'quite frankly, you'd have been more of a hero if you'd left him there for those men to deal with. At least then he would have got what was coming to him.'
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Arthur's jaw tightens as he suppresses a gasp of disbelief, which is quickly overtaken by the anger that's rising in his chest. His father's views are no surprise, but he's always held back a little bit of hope that, when it came to it - if he chose the right words, and did the right things - one day Uther might come around. He's had this idea that after he's finished university and proved he could make it on his own, done things with his life to make Uther proud of him, then he might, eventually, accept him purely on his merits. He'd be angry at first. Furious, probably, but up until now, Arthur hasn't let himself believe that his father was the sort of person who would let his hate for one part of him cancel out everything else. When the twin realisations hit: that Uther's never going to change, and that he's been deluding himself for too long, it feels a little like grief.
'Father,' he says, choosing his words carefully, 'that man might have died.'
'Well, it's a shame you didn't get there a few minutes later, then,' Uther snarls back at him. 'It would have saved us all a lot of bother. There are important people waiting for us, Arthur. Find a room and get yourself cleaned up; my secretary will find you a fresh set of clothes.'
Arthur hesitates for a second, his mind still taunting him with images of Merlin being patched up by the paramedics, of Merlin being driven off to hospital, of how - if that had really happened - he's so cut off from the life he wants to lead, that he would only have found out about it by chance. I can't go on like this,, he thinks, and with that thought, he realises that this, right now, is the turning point, the place that Merlin's given him time and space to find, and now, he's finally reached it.
'Well?' Uther barks, 'what are you waiting for?'
After years of taking orders from his father without question, Arthur has already started to turn before he realises what he's doing. This time, though, he stops.
'There's just one more thing,' he says.
'What?' says Uther, red-faced with exasperation.
'What if it had been me, lying there?' Arthur says, his voice growing bleak. 'What if they had been kicking the crap out of me, and you'd walked by? Would you have left me to bleed to death?'
'Don't be ridiculous Arthur,' Uther says, forcing a laugh out for the benefit of his associates. 'You're not one of them. You're talking about something that would never happen.'
'Say that it did,' Arthur presses. 'Humour me.' He can hear his voice; he sounds calm, confident, even, a contrast to how his heart sinks lower as every word forces the situation a little further. 'Just so we're clear, say that the man who was attacked because he was gay was me, your son, what would you do?'
There's another forced laugh, but the expression on Uther's face, as they start to circle one another, has turned murderous. 'Fine,' he says, after a long moment of consideration. 'In this hypothetical situation, I would have stood back and watched you get what you deserved.'
There's a stunned silence from the little crowd that's gathered around them. Arthur's stunned too, for as much as he's known this was coming, he hasn't quite managed to steel himself finally from hearing, from his father's own lips, that he would rather see him dead than love him for who he is. Then there's a moment that seems to stretch out forever, where everything goes completely still, and he can't quite form the words he wants to say. When he does manage to get them out, he's surprised he needs so few to cut the ties that have been there all his life.
'It's not a hypothetical situation, father,' he says, peripherally aware of a small gasp from a few of the people around them, 'but I do appreciate your honesty. I think I'm done here now.'
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Arthur makes it to the far side of the lobby before he finds his path blocked by Uther.
'And where do you think you're going?' he says.
Arthur shrugs. He has no idea, other than if he stays here a moment longer he'll start to shout, start to vent his anger at Uther, tell him that the counselling was worthless, that he's sick of lying and sick of being lied to. But, still mindful that Uther is surrounded by people he wants to impress, he simply tries to push past.
It doesn't work, and before he knows what's going on, he finds himself pushed back against the lobby wall, his head connecting painfully with smooth, polished stone. 'You're going nowhere until I get some answers,' Uther roars.
Disorientated momentarily, Arthur looks past him at the onlookers; some horrified, some concerned, some merely interested. Out of the corner of his eye he sees Morgana, and the excited, expectant expression on her face, her eyes darting between him and Uther as she watches their relationship fall apart.
For a second, Arthur's convinced that Uther's going to punch him, but instead he steps back, a disgusted expression on his face.
'It's that bloody boy isn't it?' Uther shouts, forgetting, in his fury, that he has an audience. 'I told him to stay away from you.'
'Yes,' Arthur says, not entirely sure why he's so calm. 'It's that boy, and it probably always will be that boy. And I'm sorry you're not going to get the son you wanted, but I can't lie to you anymore.'
'And you think the boy's going to have any interest in you at all, once he learns you've walked away from your family?' Uther sneers. 'You're a bigger idiot than I thought, Arthur, if you believe you have anything else more to offer than your name. You're nothing without it. Nothing. And once that's gone, you won't see that boy for dust.'
'I'm willing to take my chances,' Arthur says. He looks over at Morgana, who tries, unsuccessfully to wipe the ecstatic look from her face.
'Arthur,' she says, all fake concern.
'Save it, Morgana,' Arthur says, 'and good luck with all of this; you're welcome to it.'
He pulls his phone out of his pocket and hands it to Uther, knowing as he does so that this will sever the last point of contact between them. Stony faced with rage, Uther takes it without a word.
As he walks through the revolving doors of the hotel, he catches sight of Morgana being shoved away by Uther as she moves to console him. He's vaguely aware that Uther's still shouting at him, asking him where he thinks he's going to go, where he's going to live, how he's going to eat. The short answer is that he doesn't know, but right now he's too hyped up to care.
#
After he's walked most of the adrenaline off, he slumps down onto a bench and realises that he does, really, have to figure out his next move. Going through his pockets, he finds that he has maybe thirty pounds in notes and some change in his pocket, but that's it, and a slow panic sets in. He refuses to give into it, and forces himself to go through his options instead. He supposes the university might help, if he explains what's happened; possibly Elena would be prepared to shout down Godwyn's objections if he asked her very nicely; he's even willing to bet that Gwaine or Percival would give him somewhere to stay for a few nights, even though he hasn't seen either of them at church for months now. It's easier to think about it like that, and the realisation that he's got more friends than he thought he had calms him enough to believe that he can do this, after all.
But out of everyone he could go to, the one person who he does call, standing nervously in a grimy phonebox, loose change rattling in his trembling hands, is Merlin.
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Thank you so much for commenting and reading! x
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Morgana may not have what she wants, as much as she thinks she will. And I fear Uther's long-reaching power, still. Easier if he just severs all ties to his son, but after the humiliation he has suffered in front of his backers and supporters, I don't think he'll be able to let this go - not any time soon, anyway.
Can't WAIT for the next update - Merlin & Arthur's reunion, and the conversations and emotions that will spill out in each other's comfort. Such a powerful story you are sharing, Author. Thank you for it, and for this amazing update.
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This story is wonderful, Author.
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Wonderful update, anon ♥
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i love this story!!!!!
thanks for writing.
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Uther can have Morgana. They deserve one another.
Arthur can have Merlin. They deserve one another, too.
Unfortunately, I can't see Uther just walking away. He's a powerful, vengeful man who thinks he's been publicly humiliated. I hope one or more of those interested onlookers were filming Arthur and Uther and the confrontation online. Uther deserves that and worse.
It's fantastic, Anon.
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'Arthur?' Merlin's voice is almost inaudible against the background din of voices and loud, loud music.
'Merlin?' says Arthur. 'Is that you? Where are you?' He has to shout to be heard, and can already feel the sinking, regretful lurch of his stomach as he wonders if he's interrupted something, and if Merlin resents the unexpected intrusion. 'Listen, you sound busy,' he says, though he feeds the machine more change anyway. 'We don't have to talk now if you have other stuff on.'
'Arthur, don't you bloody dare. Stay where you are,' says Merlin, and the line goes silent. A few heart-stopping seconds later, Arthur hears a door slam and the background noise fades away. 'I am notbusy,' Merlin continues. 'Has something happened? You never call me.'
Arthur tells him, in a quick, broken rush of words. About how his father finally pushed him too far, about how he couldn't pretend any more, about how, even though he's always thought he'd have a half-decent exit strategy, in the end he just walked. When he finishes, he realises that his voice has become raw and uneven with the effort of recounting what happened.
'Hey, hey. It's alright; everything will be alright,' says Merlin, who is either doing a great job of taking all of this in his stride, or knows how close to hysterical Arthur is. 'Where are you now? Have you got anywhere to stay?'
'I'm in London. I'll find somewhere,' Arthur says. He feels foolish. He wonders if, with the twists and turns and highs and lows of the day, his instincts were off, and calling was a huge mistake. 'Look, I just wanted to tell you what happened. Now that, you know, I can,' he says, trying to go for cocky and nonchalant, but his voice betrays him and the words come out as a choked, devastated sob.
He hears Merlin swear to himself, and on the other end of the line, the door opens, flooding the line with noise again. He hears Merlin shout something that sounds suspiciously like Fuck the fuck off and then it's quiet again.
'Arthur, listen to me,' Merlin says, his voice deadly serious. 'I know Uther doesn't even allow you a bloody debit card. You are not going wandering around with nowhere to stay. Can you get yourself to Heathrow?'
'Yes. Why?'
Merlin laughs. 'Because I've just arrived in Edinburgh, that's why. I'll be on the next flight out of here - no, no arguments - just go to arrivals and wait. Heathrow, yeah? I'll just give Gwaine and Percival back the spare keys to their flat, and I'll be on my way. Stay there; I'll find you.'
'You don't need to do this,' Arthur says.
Merlin makes a frustrated Hmmm sound, and even though they've spent such a little amount of time in each other's company, Arthur knows this is when he should stop arguing. 'Fine,' he says to Merlin. 'I'll be there.'
It's only when he ends the call that he thinks to himself: Since when did Gwaine and Percival share a flat?
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Thanks to the sheer number of Tube stops between Kings Cross and Heathrow, Arthur has had plenty of time to figure out what terminal he needs by the time he arrives at the airport.
Security look him up and down. He ignores them. He knows he looks like he's just been in a fight because, well, he has, but he evinces an air of having every right to be there, and they stay away.
He waits, drinking coffee after coffee, trying not to think about the afternoon, and the hotel, and what his father said to him. He tries even harder not to think about the future, because when he does, he feels excited and terrified and almost too frightened to think that this might be everything he's hoped for. Most of all, he wants to see Merlin, and the fact that Merlin wants to see him at least just as much - because, well, why would you fly back from Edinburgh? - makes any wait worth it. He's on his fourth coffee, third muffin and fifth tabloid before he realises he's taken the scrap of paper Merlin gave him more than a year ago out of his pocket, and is turning it over and over in his hands as he waits.
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People swarm in and out of the terminal like traffic. Before he knows it, hours have gone by but there's still no sign of Merlin. The girl who's serving coffee has started to bring refills over to him without being asked. They're on first name terms now, and he's given her the barest bones of his story. It seems she's told security to go easy; they're still giving him a wide berth, but the looks they give him have changed from suspicious to merely interested. He looks up at the arrivals board again. There are two more flights due from Edinburgh tonight, and he's hoping to fuck that Merlin's on one of them; despite his earlier bravado, he doesn't fancy his chances of finding anywhere to stay for the night. Eventually, exhaustion breaks over him in waves, and he starts to drift off to sleep for a minute or two at a time.
Sometime later - he's not sure exactly how long - he's interrupted from a half-doze by a tentative hand on his shoulder. He looks up, expecting another drink. Instead, his breath catches when he sees Merlin standing in front of him. He's dishevelled from the flight; hair askew, in desperate need of a shave and perfect. He's also grinning from ear to ear, like he can't quite believe Arthur's there.
That changes rapidly when he gets a clear view of Arthur's face.
'Oh my god Arthur,' Merlin says, sitting down with a thump, his hands going to Arthur's. 'What the fuck happened? Was it Uther?'
'Maybe a little bit,' Arthur says, rubbing the back of his head. He wants to slide closer; he wants to be as near to Merlin as he can, but he's not sure how things work in a public space like this, and he's wary of overstepping the mark.
Merlin seems to sense his uncertainty. He sets his bag down and slips one hand around Arthur's waist to bring them together. Arthur closes his eyes, relishing the connection of their arms and knees and chests brushing together gently as Merlin pulls him into a clumsy hug.
'I'm so fucking glad you called me,' he whispers into Arthur's ear, letting his lips brush against the top of his neck before he pulls him even closer.
Arthur tries to answer. He wants to say something important and meaningful and fitting, but he's choked by a wave of something that's so strong and painful that all he can do is nod his heartfelt agreement into Merlin's shoulder. As they hold one another, Arthur swaying slightly in the circle of Merlin's arms, he feels the full force of years of pent up frustration and the strain of hiding who he is, and something in him finally splinters and breaks. Letting it go is so sudden, so wanted, so needed that he has no choice but to let it happen. He's shaking like a leaf and it feels like everything at once: relief, grief, hope. For one awful moment, he thinks that Merlin's shoulder might be muffling his screams, but when he comes back to himself he can't hear anything except the wracking, unsteady heaving of his breath, and Merlin's soothing words, and his arms, anchoring him safely to him as the world carries on around them, regardless.
When Arthur's finally ready to draw back, any train of thought he might have had is derailed the moment Merlin brings a hand up to touch the side of his face. He does it very gently, avoiding the bruising and grazes, and runs his thumb along Arthur's cheekbone in a slow, achingly tender gesture.
'Are you going to kiss me?' Arthur asks him, hopeful, but still too unfamiliar with this territory to take what he wants.
'Would you like me to?' Merlin replies, smiling as he moves close enough for Arthur to feel the warmth of his breath on his face. He smells of mints and - oddly - herbs, and there's definitely whiskey in there somewhere. Arthur wants more of it, and he nods, nervous and desperate in equal measures.
Even though they are both overtired and overwrought, the first touch of Merlin's lips reinvigorates him in the way that the gallons of coffee he's consumed could not. He opens his mouth, wanting to taste more, wanting to press closer and closer, until he can feel their heartbeats intermingling and he can't tell one from the other.
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It's a longer journey to Merlin's flat than to the airport, and they lean companionably against each other on the tube, and then the train, that gets them there. They lean against each other easily, talking in low voices even when no one else is near enough to listen. Arthur supposes that's down to him, behaviour ingrained from years of fear over the assumptions people might make about him. It's different now, but even with Merlin sitting beside him and no reason not to reach over and take his hand, he finds his natural reticence is an instinct that's hard to override.
'I didn't know Gwaine and Percival were sharing,' Arthur says. 'Actually, I didn't even know Gwaine was studying in Scotland, but then again I haven't seen either of them for a while.'
'He, er, transferred to the same Uni as Percival at the start of this year,' says Merlin.
'What? They missed each other that much?' Arthur jokes.
'Sort of,' Merlin says, carefully, like he's got something else to say and he's weighing up whether to say it. Arthur looks up at him.
'Merlin,' Arthur says.
'Well there might be more to their friendship than most people think,' says Merlin, looking a little guilty. 'Actually, there's not a might about it. They, er, got together after that New Year's Party you organised.'
'Bloody hell, no wonder Uther didn't want to let me do it a second time,' says Arthur, grinning. He feels like he should be more surprised, but as soon as he recalls the years of playfighting and drinking competitions and their near indefatigable penchant for arm wrestling, then he finds he's not really that surprised at all.
'I'm sure they wouldn’t have wanted to keep it from you,' Merlin says, ' but hardly anyone knows we're friends, never mind more than that so ...' Merlin takes his hand as he trails off, and looks at him apologetically.
'Well, I'm not ruled by Uther anymore,' says Arthur.
'Don't sell yourself short,' says Merlin. 'You haven’t been for a long time.'
#
The journey from the railway station to Merlin's flat is, at least, familiar, as is the inordinate amount of fiddling that occurs as he searches through his backpack and every pocket imaginable in order to find his key.
'Ah,' he says, retrieving it with a jingling flourish, 'here we are, at last.'
He pushes the door open, the amber of the streetlight slicing across the sharp angles of his face for an instant before it slams shut, and they're inside.
'Shit, you look knackered,' Merlin says, taking Arthur's coat but otherwise making no effort to move. 'I didn't want to drag you to the airport, but Will's away tonight and Gwen's never here. If they'd been in, I'd've got you to come straight here, but I just wanted to be with you as soon as I could. I couldn't bear to think of you waiting here by yourself. What if there hadn't been a flight for hours; what if the train was delayed, what if you'd forgotten where I lived, what if -'
'Merlin,' Arthur says, wrapping his arms around him now it's just the two of them. 'It's alright; I'd have found you.'
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The next morning, Arthur wakes with a start and finds himself face to face with some unexpectedly patterned wallpaper.
There's a few seconds of peaceful confusion before the events of the past day hit him full in the face. He blinks and smiles to himself before settling back into the pillows and the protective cradle of Merlin's arms.
He's not used to waking up with someone else wrapped around him. There's only been that one time, when Uther found them, and it was very different to this. He can feel the steady warmth of Merlin's chest pressing against his back, and their legs tangling together. He shifts slightly and sees long, pale arms curving around him, over his own. After a few minutes he realises the rhythmic, unfamiliar sound that he can hear is snoring. He turns carefully, not wanting to disturb him, but needing unequivocal proof that Merlin really is there, nonetheless. Reality, he knows, will set in at some point and he'll have to start thinking about what happens next, but for now he wants to enjoy each moment as it comes.
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It's not like he hasn't seen Merlin dozing before, but this time, without the familiar constraints of time or fear, he's free to watch him for as long as he likes. He takes in the rise and fall of his chest and, for a second, he can't quite remember how they even got their clothes off, let alone found their way under the covers. A moment later, he grins when he remembers how, as they stumbled down the hallway to his room, Merlin insisted they needed something to eat first. He remembers too, that when they finally did get to Merlin's room, how they were both cramming toast into their mouths as fast as they could, and that after that, his hands started shaking from sheer exhaustion as he attempted to get his clothes off. He stifles a laugh at the memory of Merlin who had done no better, despite the absolutely filthy promises he'd been making while they waited for their toast in the kitchen, and had nearly caused himself an injury as he attempted to get out of his jeans.
'You're getting crumbs everywhere,' Arthur had laughed, as they lay in a half-clothed, tangled heap on the edge of Merlin's tiny bed. By the time they'd made it under the covers, warm skin sliding against skin, Arthur barely had the energy to tease Merlin for yawning before he felt his own eyes sliding shut.
And now it's morning. He knows it's a bit wrong, but now he's started, he can't stop from looking at Merlin. The small frown that creases his forehead more often than Arthur wants it to is completely absent, and he's smiling slightly, his eyelids flickering as he dreams. The thought that he could maybe wake up to this as often as he'd like is almost too immense for Arthur to take in, and he shies away from it, afraid to let himself think about something he's wanted so much and for so long. It's almost toe-curlingly sappy, but Merlin's irresistible, even despite the tiny streak of dribble that's escaped from his half-open mouth. Arthur tries to hold back and let him sleep a little longer, but soon there comes a point where it becomes impossible not to lean forward, press a kiss to his lips and watch his eyelids flutter open.
'Good morning,' Merlin says, lopsidedly. 'Or afternoon. Either way,' he says, reaching out to ruffle Arthur's hair, 'I think the word good applies.'
'You snore, and you need a bigger bed, ' says Arthur, and kisses him again, though what he really means is you look beautiful when you sleep.
'Euuugh, I have morning breath,' says Merlin, but continues kissing him anyway, before leaning up on his elbows and fixing Arthur with an accusatory glare. 'You fell asleep on me,' he says. 'One minute you were telling me off for yawning, and the next, you passed out.'
'Hey,' says Arthur, pulling him back down, 'I had a lot on yesterday.'
'Well,' says Merlin, stretching the word out as he settles back down over the full length of Arthur's body, grinning at their very obvious reactions to the sudden contact, 'if I'm not mistaken, it's the weekend now.'
'Shit, you aren't supposed to be at work, are you?' Arthur says, realising that he has no idea what Merlin does at the weekends.
'Usually,' Merlin says. He shifts again to a more comfortable position, pressing their hips together as he does, and looks ridiculously pleased with himself when Arthur inhales sharply at the pressure. 'But I'm supposed to be in Scotland this weekend, remember? I've got nothing on till Monday.'
'Good,' says Arthur, 'because I haven't either.'
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