Look After You (Merlin/Arthur) Part 3
Title: Look After You - Part 3
Author: greymantledlady
Rating: PG
Warnings: None. Kisses! :)
Summary: ‘Come on,’ Merlin teases, leaning forward to prop his elbows on the table and rest his chin on his hands. ‘You want to as much as I do.’
‘Two days, and not a moment less,’ Arthur says implacably.
Beautiful cover art made by Nicci on AO3! Check out her other Merlin photomanips here.AO3: Look After You
Previous: Part 2
~
Arthur's sore throat is mostly gone and his voice is back, and he still hasn't said anything.
Merlin's been trying extra hard not to look too wistful, or expectant, when he's alone with Arthur. Because Arthur had been sick, after all, and not really completely in his right mind, and maybe he regretted it, regretted what he had done that afternoon.
Merlin can still feel Arthur's lips on that little spot in his wrist. He doesn't think he could ever really forget that, but maybe if Arthur doesn't say anything, Merlin can squash it down and try not to think about what it was like, having Arthur's lips touch his skin so softly, so tenderly.
He's nearly sure, after a few days, that Arthur isn't ever going to mention it again. And there's something huge and hollow and aching in Merlin's chest, but he still tries not to look too wistful or anything, because maybe he can still be Arthur's friend, anyway.
And then, the next morning, he's standing by the table, setting out Arthur's mail and sword and things for training. And Arthur comes up next to him, quietly, and says, 'Merlin.'
Merlin jumps, because there's something in Arthur's voice that turns him hot and cold and sends a warm shiver down the back of his neck. He swallows, and looks up, and Arthur's right there, looking at him.
'What is it?' Arthur murmurs. 'You've been all twitchy. And you won't look me in the eye.'
'I...' Merlin says helplessly. 'I - Arthur, you...' He swallows again, and makes himself talk in coherent speech, his heart thumping unpleasantly in his throat. 'It's just - I understand if you've changed your mind, but we need -’ He breaks off and looks away, gripping his hands into tight nervous fists. ‘I need to know.’
'Changed my mind?' Arthur says, and he sounds astounded. 'Why would I - Merlin, surely you know that I wouldn't. Ever.'
Merlin feels suddenly boneless, as though a taut thread of tension has been keeping him tied together, and it’s just been snapped. 'Well, you haven't said anything!' he says, equal parts anger and desperate relief. 'You just - haven't - said anything! I was scared, Arthur!'
Arthur shakes his head, his eyes soft and intent. 'You really are an idiot sometimes,' he says, and then his arms are wrapping around Merlin, pulling him close.
It feels deliciously safe, comforting, Arthur's chest solid and warm, his heartbeat steady and strong. Merlin shivers, grabs hold of him tightly and presses his face into Arthur's shoulder, hard. 'Idiot yourself,' he says, muffled. 'You could have let me know, you prat!'
'I'm sorry,' Arthur says seriously. 'I'm sorry you were scared. It was just -' He tugs Merlin's head around and presses his lips to his forehead, running his fingers through Merlin's hair.
'Just what?' Merlin leans into Arthur's touch, closing his eyes.
Arthur laughs ruefully. 'Well, I've had a cold! And I don't want to kiss you and make you sick as well.'
'That was it?' Merlin says incredulously. 'You didn't want me to catch your cold?'
'No, I did not! Because you'd be all miserable and coughing, and you'd drag yourself along every day anyway and half-kill yourself, and be all small and sad and pathetic, and I would be responsible.'
'Small and sad and pathetic? Arthur, do you know what you were like when you were sick?' Merlin says, and arches pleadingly towards Arthur’s lips. But Arthur turns his face away, covering Merlin’s mouth with warm firm fingers, shaking his head in frustration.
'Merlin, no. I’m not going to kiss you, don’t make this hard for me.’
‘Mm,’ Merlin hums into Arthur’s hand, watching him, and trembles in anticipation as Arthur’s eyes darken. He’s almost sure that Arthur’s going to crack -
And then Arthur lets go and takes Merlin’s shoulders gently and steers him down so he’s sitting in the nearest chair. He peels his hands away with tense dragging slowness, and goes to stand on the other side of the table, his jaw tight and stubborn. ‘I mean it,’ he says grouchily. ‘My God, you just - you have to be difficult, don’t you? Don’t you understand? I don’t want you to get sick. Because I care about you.’
Merlin looks up at him, into Arthur’s eyes. ‘I’m sorry,’ he says repentantly, after a moment. And then he can’t help grinning up at Arthur again, because it feels as though joy is humming all the way round inside him, just under his skin. ‘How long, then - before I can kiss you? A day? Two days?’
Arthur smiles back lopsidedly, as though he’s trying not to but can’t quite help it. ‘Honestly, Merlin.’
‘Come on,’ Merlin teases, leaning forward to prop his elbows on the table and rest his chin on his hands. ‘You want to as much as I do.’
‘Two days, and not a moment less,’ Arthur says implacably.
~
It’s one day and two hours, in the end. One day and two hours of glances and licking lips, of Merlin trailing teasing touches on Arthur’s wrists and Arthur giving him long longing looks across the room, his eyes dark. One day and two hours - Merlin’s been counting them down - before Arthur cracks and pushes Merlin up against the wall and kisses him, extremely thoroughly.
~
‘Your sense - of timing…’ Merlin breaks off and writhes in Arthur’s hold, because Arthur is biting him softly all over his neck, his collarbones, dipping down below the neck of his shirt, which is half off his shoulders. His neckscarf has been ravaged and wrenched off and cast with disgust (by Arthur) to the corner of the room.
Arthur mumbles inquiringly into Merlin’s neck, and Merlin closes his eyes, his breathing ragged. If it weren’t for Arthur’s arm about his waist, Arthur’s hand cupping and holding his head, Merlin would be in a melted puddle on the floor.
‘Your sense of timing - Arthur! - is absolutely… terrible, you know that?’ he says faintly, biting off a little gasp. Arthur laughs - actually laughs against his skin, the prat, and Merlin shudders all over, clinging on to Arthur’s shoulders and shirt for his life.
‘You don’t seem - to be minding too much,’ Arthur murmurs, nuzzling a little at Merlin’s ear. His fingers card through Merlin’s hair, calming, and Merlin takes a deep breath.
‘First - first you go and ask me to stay while you have a sore throat and can't talk,' Merlin says breathlessly. 'Then you go to sleep - you prat! Then - Oh.' He breaks off with a little shiver as Arthur nibbles his ear. 'Then you - scare me half to death. And then you won't kiss me!'
'Making up for that now,' Arthur hums, mouthing with soft cracked lips over Merlin's cheekbone, his broad warm hand running across Merlin's back.
'And now,' Merlin says desperately, as Arthur's lips travel slowly closer to his mouth, 'now we're going to be late! Again! To anoth - mf!'
Arthur swallows up the words, kisses him long and relentlessly hard, holding Merlin's head with his hand and angling it this way and that so that he can take Merlin's mouth just as he likes it. It's like kissing a hailstorm or something for a few moments, a breathtaking force of nature; and then Merlin whimpers and Arthur gentles and they fall into a steady soothing rhythm of lips on lips that feels as though it could go on forever.
~
They are, most definitely, going to be very, very late, but somehow neither of them particularly care.
~
~
Well. Um. I suppose that was less of a Talk and more of a snogging session at the end there, but I have no regrets. *rubs hands gleefully*
~
greymantledlady's fic masterlist
Author: greymantledlady
Rating: PG
Warnings: None. Kisses! :)
Summary: ‘Come on,’ Merlin teases, leaning forward to prop his elbows on the table and rest his chin on his hands. ‘You want to as much as I do.’
‘Two days, and not a moment less,’ Arthur says implacably.
Beautiful cover art made by Nicci on AO3! Check out her other Merlin photomanips here.AO3: Look After You
Previous: Part 2
~
Arthur's sore throat is mostly gone and his voice is back, and he still hasn't said anything.
Merlin's been trying extra hard not to look too wistful, or expectant, when he's alone with Arthur. Because Arthur had been sick, after all, and not really completely in his right mind, and maybe he regretted it, regretted what he had done that afternoon.
Merlin can still feel Arthur's lips on that little spot in his wrist. He doesn't think he could ever really forget that, but maybe if Arthur doesn't say anything, Merlin can squash it down and try not to think about what it was like, having Arthur's lips touch his skin so softly, so tenderly.
He's nearly sure, after a few days, that Arthur isn't ever going to mention it again. And there's something huge and hollow and aching in Merlin's chest, but he still tries not to look too wistful or anything, because maybe he can still be Arthur's friend, anyway.
And then, the next morning, he's standing by the table, setting out Arthur's mail and sword and things for training. And Arthur comes up next to him, quietly, and says, 'Merlin.'
Merlin jumps, because there's something in Arthur's voice that turns him hot and cold and sends a warm shiver down the back of his neck. He swallows, and looks up, and Arthur's right there, looking at him.
'What is it?' Arthur murmurs. 'You've been all twitchy. And you won't look me in the eye.'
'I...' Merlin says helplessly. 'I - Arthur, you...' He swallows again, and makes himself talk in coherent speech, his heart thumping unpleasantly in his throat. 'It's just - I understand if you've changed your mind, but we need -’ He breaks off and looks away, gripping his hands into tight nervous fists. ‘I need to know.’
'Changed my mind?' Arthur says, and he sounds astounded. 'Why would I - Merlin, surely you know that I wouldn't. Ever.'
Merlin feels suddenly boneless, as though a taut thread of tension has been keeping him tied together, and it’s just been snapped. 'Well, you haven't said anything!' he says, equal parts anger and desperate relief. 'You just - haven't - said anything! I was scared, Arthur!'
Arthur shakes his head, his eyes soft and intent. 'You really are an idiot sometimes,' he says, and then his arms are wrapping around Merlin, pulling him close.
It feels deliciously safe, comforting, Arthur's chest solid and warm, his heartbeat steady and strong. Merlin shivers, grabs hold of him tightly and presses his face into Arthur's shoulder, hard. 'Idiot yourself,' he says, muffled. 'You could have let me know, you prat!'
'I'm sorry,' Arthur says seriously. 'I'm sorry you were scared. It was just -' He tugs Merlin's head around and presses his lips to his forehead, running his fingers through Merlin's hair.
'Just what?' Merlin leans into Arthur's touch, closing his eyes.
Arthur laughs ruefully. 'Well, I've had a cold! And I don't want to kiss you and make you sick as well.'
'That was it?' Merlin says incredulously. 'You didn't want me to catch your cold?'
'No, I did not! Because you'd be all miserable and coughing, and you'd drag yourself along every day anyway and half-kill yourself, and be all small and sad and pathetic, and I would be responsible.'
'Small and sad and pathetic? Arthur, do you know what you were like when you were sick?' Merlin says, and arches pleadingly towards Arthur’s lips. But Arthur turns his face away, covering Merlin’s mouth with warm firm fingers, shaking his head in frustration.
'Merlin, no. I’m not going to kiss you, don’t make this hard for me.’
‘Mm,’ Merlin hums into Arthur’s hand, watching him, and trembles in anticipation as Arthur’s eyes darken. He’s almost sure that Arthur’s going to crack -
And then Arthur lets go and takes Merlin’s shoulders gently and steers him down so he’s sitting in the nearest chair. He peels his hands away with tense dragging slowness, and goes to stand on the other side of the table, his jaw tight and stubborn. ‘I mean it,’ he says grouchily. ‘My God, you just - you have to be difficult, don’t you? Don’t you understand? I don’t want you to get sick. Because I care about you.’
Merlin looks up at him, into Arthur’s eyes. ‘I’m sorry,’ he says repentantly, after a moment. And then he can’t help grinning up at Arthur again, because it feels as though joy is humming all the way round inside him, just under his skin. ‘How long, then - before I can kiss you? A day? Two days?’
Arthur smiles back lopsidedly, as though he’s trying not to but can’t quite help it. ‘Honestly, Merlin.’
‘Come on,’ Merlin teases, leaning forward to prop his elbows on the table and rest his chin on his hands. ‘You want to as much as I do.’
‘Two days, and not a moment less,’ Arthur says implacably.
~
It’s one day and two hours, in the end. One day and two hours of glances and licking lips, of Merlin trailing teasing touches on Arthur’s wrists and Arthur giving him long longing looks across the room, his eyes dark. One day and two hours - Merlin’s been counting them down - before Arthur cracks and pushes Merlin up against the wall and kisses him, extremely thoroughly.
~
‘Your sense - of timing…’ Merlin breaks off and writhes in Arthur’s hold, because Arthur is biting him softly all over his neck, his collarbones, dipping down below the neck of his shirt, which is half off his shoulders. His neckscarf has been ravaged and wrenched off and cast with disgust (by Arthur) to the corner of the room.
Arthur mumbles inquiringly into Merlin’s neck, and Merlin closes his eyes, his breathing ragged. If it weren’t for Arthur’s arm about his waist, Arthur’s hand cupping and holding his head, Merlin would be in a melted puddle on the floor.
‘Your sense of timing - Arthur! - is absolutely… terrible, you know that?’ he says faintly, biting off a little gasp. Arthur laughs - actually laughs against his skin, the prat, and Merlin shudders all over, clinging on to Arthur’s shoulders and shirt for his life.
‘You don’t seem - to be minding too much,’ Arthur murmurs, nuzzling a little at Merlin’s ear. His fingers card through Merlin’s hair, calming, and Merlin takes a deep breath.
‘First - first you go and ask me to stay while you have a sore throat and can't talk,' Merlin says breathlessly. 'Then you go to sleep - you prat! Then - Oh.' He breaks off with a little shiver as Arthur nibbles his ear. 'Then you - scare me half to death. And then you won't kiss me!'
'Making up for that now,' Arthur hums, mouthing with soft cracked lips over Merlin's cheekbone, his broad warm hand running across Merlin's back.
'And now,' Merlin says desperately, as Arthur's lips travel slowly closer to his mouth, 'now we're going to be late! Again! To anoth - mf!'
Arthur swallows up the words, kisses him long and relentlessly hard, holding Merlin's head with his hand and angling it this way and that so that he can take Merlin's mouth just as he likes it. It's like kissing a hailstorm or something for a few moments, a breathtaking force of nature; and then Merlin whimpers and Arthur gentles and they fall into a steady soothing rhythm of lips on lips that feels as though it could go on forever.
~
They are, most definitely, going to be very, very late, but somehow neither of them particularly care.
~
~
Well. Um. I suppose that was less of a Talk and more of a snogging session at the end there, but I have no regrets. *rubs hands gleefully*
~
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