Winter Kiss (3/3)
They have their biggest fight when they come home from Morgana's birthday party that year.
It's so late, that it's actually early, they're both sleep deprived and a bit tipsy, they're soaking wet from the rain that's falling heavily outside, and the apartment is pretty cold since they've been away for hours now. Arthur has his arms wrapped around Merlin's waist, hugging him from behind and kissing up the side of his neck, as he rants on and on about something that's been on his mind in the recent hours - Elena, Gwaine's sister, announced she was pregnant during Morgana's party and it reminded Arthur of his own childhood dreams (probably affected by his father, but he is not gonna think about that now) of having a family.
“Think about it, we could find a surrogate or adopt, we could do both!” he mumbles against the soft skin of Merlin's neck, damp from where the droplets of rain slid down from his hair. “We would move to the house, now that it's empty. And imagine us, old and wrinkled with a bunch of grandkids running around the yard, it would be so amazing! Don't you think?”
It's only when Merlin sighs and steps away from him that Arthur notices that Merlin's gone stiff and looks like he's bracing himself for saying something Arthur is not going to like, which Arthur has learnt to be a good sign that they're about to have a fight.
“Arthur,” Merlin says in a placating, but firm tone, “I don't want children.”
Arthur half expects it to be a joke, but Merlin stands firmly in front of him, not moving a muscle, a calm but determined look on his face. “You what?” Arthur asks, still in the process of not believing his ears. He hasn't given it much serious thought until then because he's never really had anyone he cared for as much as Merlin, cared for enough to even think of starting a family with, but with this reminder of the fact that they're all grown up now, in their early and mid-thirties, that his friends are starting their own families, getting married and having children, he is suddenly struck with how very much he's not okay with not having children. Sure, even when he was a teenager, he knew that, what with being gay, there was a possibility of him never having anyone to raise and keep and protect and leave his heirloom to, but he never really did accept that fully. It's probably the part of him that still idolizes his father, that was raised by a traditionalist and shares those views, that wants a little boy or girl to fulfil his life, but whichever part of his personality it is, Arthur has never really stopped dreaming of growing old with the man he loves, in the closest he can get to a white picket fence house (which is his father's mansion, so hey, not that bad), with little blond kids on his lap.
“I don't want children,” Merlin repeats calmly. “I sort of assumed you'd... come to terms with not having kids, considering your sexuality. That's why I never brought it up.”
Arthur stares at Merlin feeling as if he's seeing him for the first time. It never occurred to him before that Merlin would somehow clash with his vision of the future. Then again, until recently he hadn't even realized how important that subconscious desire was to him. He tries to think rationally, maybe he's just... blowing it out of proportion. The idea of children, after all, has never been at the forefront of his mind before now; but as Merlin pointed out, he hasn't had need for concern until now.
“But why?” he asks, having trouble reconciling the thought of having either Merlin, or family and honestly baffled as to why he has to choose when they would be good parents together, he knows they would - with Merlin, he's the best person he can possibly be, they don't argue much and they would love their children unconditionally, Arthur knows that beyond a shadow of a doubt.
“Because I don't... I don't want that kind of responsibility, I guess?” Merlin replies, shrugging. “I'm gonna be a doctor soon, Arthur, people's lives will depend on me. I don't want to have that kind of pressure at home as well.”
To a certain extent, Arthur does understand, because the responsibility is kind of a lot for him, too, but he trusts himself with Merlin and, although he knows Merlin probably doesn't mean it that way, the fact that Merlin doesn't want to raise kids with him somehow feels like a personal blow. It makes all his old insecurities and fears resurface and he feels like he is being told, yet again, that he is not good enough. He opens his mouth to accuse Merlin, but Merlin beats him to it.
“I know, it's selfish,” he says with a roll of his eyes. “Look, I'm sorry, but this is important to me. I do not want children.”
There is a finality to Merlin's tone that makes Arthur easily realize that Merlin won't budge on this particular issue, which only serves to make him angry, because this is a matter of their relationship, damn it, and Arthur has a say in it.
“I've just... never seen myself with children,” Merlin ends, and it's a damn stupid reason if Arthur's ever heard one and he should say well I've never seen myself without them, but he's not thinking straight, the mix of the slight buzz of alcohol and the storm of his anger making it difficult to be reasonable. So what he does instead is use what he knows about Merlin to make a jab he knows will sting.
“Of course you haven't, I dare say you haven't seen yourself anywhere, what with the way you plan ahead and think about the future a lot.”
For a moment, Merlin looks like he will just ignore it, but then his fists clench and he licks his lips quickly and Arthur knows this is not gonna be pretty.
It all kind of devolves from there. Arthur can throw a mean insult when he wants to, it's something he learnt from his father pretty early on, but Merlin is not far behind. They end up yelling at each other, using everything they know about each other (so, considerable amounts of ammunition) to make every word hurt like a slap; Arthur has never been in an argument so exhausting, so painful, and it figures that Merlin would be the one to push him to new lows as well as highs.
It's well past dawn when it all ends in what turns out to be a pretty anticlimactic finish, when Merlin says in one breath, “You're not that different from your father, you know, and one would think, given your experience, you wouldn't want to put a child through the hell of having that kind of a parent oh my god I am so sorry, I have no idea why I said that.”
But the words hit Arthur like a punch to the gut and he deflates, all his anger leaving him in the one exhale that follows Merlin's sentence; he sits on the sofa feeling completely beaten because that is the point - the reason why he's felt all along that Merlin was telling him he wouldn't be a good parent, is that he actually think so himself, that he's telling himself that, so it was easy to hear it Merlin's voice as well.
Merlin sits down next to him and takes one of his hands in both of his own. “Arthur, listen to me. That was the stupidest thing that ever crossed my mind,” he says, in a voice not unlike the one he would probably use to calm down a skittish horse or something. He lifts Arthur's hand to his mouth and kisses it. “You would be a great father, okay? There's no doubt in my mind that any child would be lucky to have you.” He sounds so honest and apologetic, Arthur kind of wants to cry. “And if you really want children, I want you to have them. But it won't be with me. I'm sorry, I'm afraid this is a deal breaker for me,” he finishes, his voice breaking at the last few words and Arthur's decision is made at that, he knows; but even if it weren't, when he thinks about it, it's easier to imagine the future without children than without Merlin - in fact, he's not even sure how to imagine it without Merlin. His only response is to lean into Merlin, nuzzle his neck and let Merlin's arms wrap around him. “I'm sorry,” Merlin whispers into his hair.
“Don't be,” Arthur replies. Merlin is more than enough for him.
~*~
At the end of that winter, Merlin passes his last exam.
He's been preparing it for days, sometimes even getting so involved in his studying, that he forgets to sleep. Arthur would find it all very funny if he wasn't too busy drooling at the sight of Merlin walking around with his face in a book, wearing comfortable, often Arthur's, pyjamas, his hear a bit longer than usual, his normally clean shaven face sporting a heavy stubble, an almost mad look in is eyes. Arthur is temped to call the university to tell them to fail Merlin, just so he could enjoy the view some more.
Of course, the downside of it is that he only gets to look, as Merlin is too busy to actually fulfil any of Arthur's many, many new fantasies. Instead he just walks around the apartment being gorgeous and doing nothing to help with Arthur's seemingly perpetual semi hard-on.
So, because Arthur knows how to be a tease as well, he goes to their room one evening, when Merlin is in the kitchen, drinking his certainly-this-amount-is-unhealthy-th coffee of the day, and, of course, studying, he deliberately doesn't close the door and instead just drops on top of the covers. Kitchen is close enough that he's pretty sure Merlin can hear him blindly opening the drawer and rummaging through it. He hopes Merlin can hear him.
He's been half-hard since about an hour and a half ago when he watched Merlin walk out of the extra bedroom that he now uses for studying, looking deliciously sleep-rumpled with pillow creases on his cheeks and his hair sticking out every which way, wearing nothing but pyjama bottoms and a white undershirt; he mumbled a hello and proceeded to put on a random hoodie that was on top of the pile of clean clothes Arthur was about to put away - it so happened that the hoodie was actually Arthur's, but Merlin put it on either way, like it didn't matter and Arthur felt at once warm with the fondness over having Merlin so at ease with sharing everything with him, and possessiveness over seeing Merlin in his clothes. He focuses on that image as he pushes his hips forward and rubs himself against the mattress.
He might be developing a kink for this new, scruffy side of Merlin, he realizes as he finally digs out the lube and places it on the bed next to him. He's hard now, from just imagining Merlin, looking like he's forgotten how to do his morning routine, and while he doesn't think he can come solely from rutting against the sheets and thinking, he's perfectly happy to continue doing just that for a while longer. The room is pretty cold because nobody's slept in it ever since Merlin started preparing for his exam (Merlin sleeps on the kitchen table, mostly, and Arthur doesn't like sleeping alone in their huge bed, so he usually spends his night on the sofa in the living room where he can see Merlin), so there's been no need to turn on the heating, and Arthur doesn't really feel much like stripping in such cold.
That is, until he hears Merlin reading his textbook out loud, in that low quiet voice, a bit scratchy from the fact that he hasn't used it in a while, except that it sends images - memories and ideas, flashing through Arthur's mind (Merlin on his knees, lips shiny with spit, saying the dirtiest things as he jerks Arthur off, until Arthur comes all over his face; Merlin on top of him, fucking him slowly, deeply, whispering the sweetest things in his ear in that wrecked voice; Merlin complaining that Arthur's pulling out, even as he's screamed himself hoarse before that), and suddenly, Arthur's flushed and the room is hot and the lazy thrusting against the sheets is so not enough.
He turns over on his back, shimmies out of his tracksuit, and squeezes out some lube on his hand. When he wraps his fingers around himself, he lets out a shaky breath, then strokes himself slowly, root to tip, with a firm grip, moaning. It's only a bit of a show - he likes to be vocal and he's only enhancing it a little for Merlin to hear. Merlin, who is probably still sitting at the kitchen table, nursing his unusually large mug of coffee and memorizing diagrams with that look of intense concentration on his face, maybe frowning or biting his lips; and Arthur's taken Merlin on that table, sucked him and fingered him and fucked him until Merlin was a whimpering mess (his hand speeds up without his conscious decision, but instead of complaining he just moans loudly as his thumb runs over the head, pressing just a little harder over the slit), but he's also been bent over that table, held down with one of Merlin's hands pressing on his lower back, the fingers of the other holding his ass spread as Merlin licked him and kissed him and fucked him with his tongue. And Merlin is fucking brilliant with his mouth, Arthur's learnt, so he focuses on that as he runs a hand over his torso, pinching his nipples and scratching at his stomach.
The movement of his hand speeds up and focuses on the upper half of his dick, he squeezes the sensitive head and twists his wrist to run his palm over it, all the while imagining what it would be like to have Merlin's head between his legs, to be able to grip and pull on Merlin's locks, wondering if he would be able to feel the light scratching of Merlin's beard on his balls when Merlin deepthroated him. He lets his other hand trail down to his balls, cupping them and rolling them in his palm before his fingers slip past and tease over his hole, but they're dry, not like Merlin's tongue would be, and oh god, Merlin's tongue would be wet and soft and perfect, and Arthur would definitely be able to feel the scratch of his beard there, and that would burn and it would be perfect and Arthur would be a total slut for that, would shove his ass at Merlin's face and beg for Merlin to eat him out and Merlin would do it and he would do it well, and just imagining it makes Arthur lift his hips upward and fuck his own hand and want to come and come now.
He doesn't even notice how loud he's being until he hears a long, deep grunt that he doesn't even recognize as his own voice at first. He opens his eyes and looks down his body, his shirt pushed up to his chest, his body covered in a light sheen of sweat, the muscles in his stomach contracting, one of his hands disappearing between his legs as the other one strokes furiously over his flushed cock, the head of it peeping out of his fist and oozing drops of pearly liquid. He also sees Merlin in the doorway, his textbook in one hand, a half eaten slice of toast in the other and his cock obviously hard in his pyjamas.
“I hate you so much right now,” Merlin simply states in that deep, tired voice and Arthur would laugh, but he's too busy moaning as his cock pulses in his hand and he comes all over his stomach. “So much,” Merlin repeats, shaking his head and shoving the rest of the toast in his mouth. Arthur laughs as Merlin trudges off, his face once again buried in his book. It might be the post-orgasmic endorphins, but he finds it kind of cute, how much Merlin is freaking out, especially when it's clear as day to Arthur that he's passing the exam, he's too smart not to.
~*~
In a cruel and ironic twist of fate, Merlin's mother dies on December 21st.
Arthur remembers the pain and loneliness of dealing with that alone, so he takes days off work and spends every second of every minute of every hour of every day with Merlin, who seems unable to decide if he wants to cry or be angry or just curl up somewhere and sleep off the rest of his life. Arthur understands, though, he really does, because he's been there too. So what he does is adjust. He's learnt to read Merlin easily, to always be able to guess what Merlin is feeling and what he needs, so he curls up around Merlin at night and holds him through the crying, and he stands impassively as he gets yelled at for things that are not his fault, and then hugs back when Merlin clings to him and apologizes, and he wipes away the tears when Merlin cries, and he keeps his distance when Merlin sits in the middle of his mother's living room and stares at the black TV screen.
The funeral is short and intimate, only the closest family friends and Arthur feels like he's intruding every time someone he's never seen before gives Merlin condolences and awkwardly shakes Arthur's hand. But then Merlin leans on him and kisses him briefly, chastely, just the touch of cold lips and Arthur knows he could never be anywhere else at that moment.
They stand at the grave long after everyone else has left, and Arthur hugs Merlin from behind, and Merlin's cold hands in fingerless gloves never leave Arthur's bare ones where they rest around Merlin's waist.
“She really liked you, you know,” Merlin says after an indefinite amount of time and Arthur can hear in his voice that he's crying, but he has the courtesy not to mention it. “She thought we were meant to be,” he adds, with a little laugh. Arthur doesn't know what to say, other than something cheesy, so he buries his cold nose between Merlin's warm neck and his blue scarf. “She had an argument with her neighbour last month, because he told her it wasn't natural, you and me.”
And yeah, Arthur can see how Hunith would want to slap that person. He's grown very fond of Hunith over the years, especially over her support for them. He remembers London Pride earlier that year, when Hunith went with them, walking down the streets wearing a banner that said My son deserves the right to marry his amazing boyfriend. He smiles at the memory, even though he can't deny the little itch of jealousy, because his father would never have done something like that.
But then it occurs to him. “Marry me,” he whispers right into Merlin's ear.
“What?” is Merlin's immediate reaction, before he even twists in Arthur's arms to look at him with wide eyes, surprised and hopeful.
“Marry me,” Arthur repeats, louder and more certain this time, smiling at the expression on Merlin's face. “I don't have a ring on me, but I'll get you one later. Just say yes.”
Merlin stares at him for a bit longer, apparently trying to figure out if he's serious, and Arthur lets him, because he knows Merlin will see that, yes, this is pretty unplanned and he hasn't actually thought about it, but he means it either way. Then Merlin surges forward and kisses him so hard Arthur's teeth hurt, but he doesn't say anything, just kisses back, placing his hands on Merlin's face, warm from crying, probably the only warm thing for miles and definitely all the warmth Arthur needs.
“Yes. Yeah, I'll marry you. Idiot,” Merlin mumbles between kisses. The wind does little to cool down the quick spread of warmth through Arthur's chest.
~*~
They get married on January 27th.
It's not a special day until the moment they sign the papers, they choose it randomly, just because it's the earliest even Arthur can push the clerk to schedule. They tell no one, lest one of their friends (most likely Morgana) decides to organize some ostentatious, over-the-top celebration. They invite the closest people they have left (Morgana, Gwaine, Lancelot, Gwen - who turned out to work in the A&E at the hospital Merlin was trying to get a job at, so they met and quickly became friends, Gwen's brother Elyan, Morgana's partner Morgause, Elena and her husband and their kid), under the excuse of going out for a dinner together, as a sort of fancy, bonding, friends-only evening.
It's funny to watch their faces when the cabs Arthur ordered to pick them up arrive at the registry office.
It's all very formal and pretty generic and only a tiny bit personal, it's like signing any other document, and the dinner they go to afterwards is not at all a large, fancy ceremony, it's basically just another night out for them, only with all of their friends there and with more congratulations, but Arthur feels giddy all day and Merlin giggles a little every time their eyes meet, and Arthur holds Merlin's hand through the whole thing even if it means that he must sign his name with his left hand, and Merlin kisses him at the most random times just because, and it's the best day of Arthur's life.
They're not even technically, legally married, they've entered a civil union, which is basically the same thing as civil marriage, but since they live in a world where equality is still only a dream, it's called differently. Not that it's gonna stop Arthur from referring to Merlin as his husband from that moment on.
~*~
The awful part of Merlin's job first becomes their problem in the beginning of February next year.
Merlin has trouble finding a job for a while, but in January that year, Gwen somehow manages to get him a spot at her A&E, which is basically everything Merlin's worked for over the years. And for a while, it's all good, and Merlin is doing what he wants to be doing, helping people and saving them, but then it happens and Merlin comes home, bundled up in his scarf, with this expression on his face, and with a different quality to the way he moves and Arthur just knows.
He doesn't ask anything at all - by this point, they know each other too well to need words in situations like this - just walks up to Merlin and helps him out of his clothes. Merlin has this sort of haunted, empty look in his eyes that worries Arthur, but he knows better than to say anything - Merlin will talk to him when he's ready. He makes some mint tea and Merlin drinks it, still without a word. Arthur stands next to him, a hand on his shoulder and waits.
“I know it's stupid,” Merlin eventually says, “I know she's just the first of many, it's a fucking emergency department, I know this. But she was three, Arthur, she was three, and her mother was drunk, and it was an accident, and I don't think there was a bone in her body that wasn't broken, and there was blood fucking everywhere, and we couldn't...” He looks up to the ceiling, clearly trying to calm himself down, takes a deep breath, holds it, then lets it out. Arthur puts an arm around his shoulders and pulls him closer. “She was three, and she was dying and I couldn't do a fucking thing to save her,” Merlin mumbles, leaning into Arthur with his whole body, as if trying to morph into him. Arthur holds him tighter and walks them to bed.
Merlin doesn't sleep that night, and by extension, neither does Arthur, because when Merlin is sick, or not feeling well, Arthur has to be the mother hen and look after him, there's just something in him that makes him do it. So they lie on their sides, face to face, and Merlin never moves more than a fraction of an inch away from him, and they just stare at each other all night; Merlin leans in every once in a while and kisses him, and Arthur strokes his hair, but they don't talk and they don't move and they don't sleep. In the morning, Arthur leaves for work first, and Merlin walks him to the door and kisses him and says, “Thank you,” even though Arthur doesn't need to hear it.
~*~
It's Arthur's thirty-fifth birthday. It's also the last night they're spending in their home of eight years, because tomorrow, they're packing their shit and moving to the Pendragon mansion, which they will be sharing with Morgana and her husband - Leon, whom Arthur still remembers as a gangly teenage kid from years ago, even though Morgana and him have been together (again) ever since they ran into each other at Tesco sixteen months ago. So they're celebrating.
“Fucking fuck, Arthur, just fucking stop teasing me and fuck me already,” Merlin curses breathlessly, arching his back and pushing himself further onto Arthur's fingers. Arthur tries to hum non-committally, but it comes out more as a moan when Merlin fucks his cock deeper into Arthur's mouth. To be honest, Arthur's pretty worked up himself, and he's not sure how long he can go on like this, but Merlin doesn't need to know that.
Arthur's lying on his back, his face aligned with Merlin's crotch where Merlin is on all fours above him, he's sucking Merlin as best as he can in his current position (and drooling - honestly, he doesn't know how he hasn't choked already - over it like he hasn't done it countless times, but damn, he loves sucking Merlin off), and his fingers have been in Merlin for probably too long because they're starting to cramp, but he can't bring himself to stop because he wants to listen to Merlin losing it for-fucking-ever, the breathy moans and slurred curses going straight to Arthur's cock, which is twitching, neglected, against his stomach.
He looks up, sees Merlin looking back and shudders at the way Merlin's eyes are unfocused, pupils blown, lips parted and bitten blood-red, face flushed, a drop of sweat running down his straight nose and falling down. He tries to grin as much as he can while his mouth is still full of Merlin's cock; it seems to get the message across because Merlin grits out, “Fucking hate you, Arthur fucking Pendragon, fuck you,” punctuating every word with a harsh shove of his hips, until Arthur is choking, but Merlin fucks into his mouth a few more times, only pulling out when Arthur is actually feeling dizzy from lack of oxygen. He uses the minute or so that Arthur needs to regain cognitive function to push Arthur's arms away from his body and slide down until he's straddling Arthur's hips. When Arthur opens his eyes and the image comes to focus, Merlin is holding himself up on his knees, one of his arms behind his back, the hand gripping the base of Arthur's cock to hold it up. Merlin smirks at him and says, “You know what I should do now? I should flip you over and fuck you dry, so you can feel it for days.” Arthur mewls at the idea, warming up to it in seconds, and actually hoping Merlin would do it. “But, sadly, I'd probably come before you, so,” Merlin continues in a tone that is damn close to conversational, all things considered, as he lowers himself on Arthur's cock in one smooth move.
“Oh, fuck,” Arthur breathes, not quite managing to stop himself from lifting his hips and pushing himself further into Merlin. Merlin doesn't seem to mind, since he throws his head back and moans loudly before immediately starting to move, not even bothering to go slow, but starting out by fucking himself on Arthur's cock hard and fast and deep; Arthur's hands grip Merlin's hips hard, but he doesn't guide Merlin's movement, because watching Merlin's face as it goes through expressions of bliss is totally worth letting Merlin set the tempo.
Not that Arthur wants to complain, not with Merlin tight and hot around him, the muscles in his thighs working as he moves up, then drops back down, always impaling himself fully on Arthur's cock, squeezing it like it's his first time and like Arthur hasn't opened him up enough. Merlin's hands grip Arthur's wrists and Arthur looks at him; Merlin just smiles and speeds up. It's not long before Arthur can't stop fucking up into Merlin every time Merlin goes down, drawing out gasps and grunts from them both; Merlin's normally pale chest becomes flushed with exertion, and he's panting, sweating and moaning almost continuously, but he never breaks eye contact, and Arthur wants to scream with how good it is, to have that kind of intimate connection, even when the sex is quick and hard and desperate.
“Oh, god, oh, fuck, urgh, Arthur,” Merlin starts chanting when Arthur finds a particularly good angle, Merlin's nails dig into the skin of Arthur's wrists with every thrust. Arthur just lies back and watches, because Merlin is so beautiful like this, his pale skin now red, covered in sweat, his hair curling at the tips, his face slack and relaxed, nipples perked and his cock jumping with the movement of his body, lightly hitting against both of their stomach, leaving wet trails of pre-come. Even if Arthur wanted to do more than sit back and enjoy the show, he doesn't think he could draw his eyes away or focus on anything else. “Oh, fuck, fuck, fuck,” Merlin curses under his breath, rolling his hips a few times with Arthur's cock buried deep inside him, before he comes, untouched over them both; it's one of the hottest things Arthur's ever seen, so he doesn't even wait for Merlin to be done, just sits up and kisses him, wet and sloppy and uncoordinated, especially once Merlin goes boneless on top of him and just drapes himself over Arthur's body, his mouth by Arthur's ear, babbling, “God, that was amazing, I love you, love you so much, happy birthday, fuck, gonna miss this bed, fuck me,” and other indistinguishable, incoherent gibberish. Arthur wraps his arms around Merlin's body and holds him in place as he manages a few more shallow thrusts before spilling inside Merlin's hot, tight body as Merlin licks at the shell of his ear and keeps repeating, “I love you, Arthur Pendragon, love you even though you're an idiot.”
~*~
Arthur leans against the wall next to the window, draining the last of his hot cocoa as he watches the children in his yard throw snowballs at each other and roll around in the piles of snow on the ground. Granted, only one of the children is actually young enough to be called that - Mordred, Morgana's wonder kid whom she proclaimed she didn't want, and then ended up spoiling rotten (not that Arthur didn't help, profusely) is turning four this year, but Gwaine and Lancelot are not acting their age today, so Arthur feels perfectly fine calling them children. Rex, the Pendragon family hound (nope, actually just a stray that Merlin picked up on his way home six years ago, when he was just a puppy) is running around, barking at everything that moves and curiously sticking his nose into piles of loose white everywhere, so Arthur thinks it's safe to say he's regressed as well.
“What are you thinking about?” Merlin asks, coming up to him from behind, placing a hand almost possessively on the small of Arthur's back and kissing his cheek. He extracts the mug from Arthur's hands and places it on the kitchen table nearby, next to his own.
Arthur shrugs. “Nothing in particular,” he replies, even though they both know it's not true. It's been sort of a haunting ghost of their relationship, Arthur's unfulfilled desire to have children, especially since Mordred, and he always bitterly throws it into Merlin's face when they're arguing, but Merlin, although he flinches every time, always apologizes and looks guilty, stands his ground. Arthur respects that, most of the time he doesn't even mean the shit he says, but he can't stop himself saying it. Still, when he feels Merlin's arms snake around his middle, Merlin's breath tickling behind his ear, Merlin's lips running gently, lovingly over his neck, still so perfect even after all these years, he knows he made the right choice - Merlin was always going to be his destiny, his life, children or no children.
“Come on!” Merlin says cheerfully after a while, turning Arthur's face to the side with his fingers and kissing him on the lips, “Let's go out!” Arthur rolls his eyes, wondering if winter just has this de-ageing effect on everyone, but he complies, letting Merlin drag him to the hallway and make him put on his coat and scarf (no gloves though, they've always had that sort of tradition of going out without gloves, probably because the feel of each other's hands was more pleasant than wool) and push him out the door. Rex jumps on them, wagging his tail and Mordred grins in their direction, while Gwaine and Lancelot greet them with snowballs. Merlin flips them off once he's made sure Mordred is not looking.
“What, we're not joining the snow war?” Arthur asks as Merlin pushes him backwards with a mischievous grin.
“Nah, I'm more the snow angels type,” Merlin answers, grinning and shoving Arthur in the chest hard enough to make him topple over and fall into the snow. Fortunately, he's not quick enough to move away, so Arthur manages to grab his arm and drag him down as well. They land in the fluffy, soft snow with a slight oof, Merlin on top of Arthur, both grinning. “Idiot,” Merlin says fondly, but ruins it by kissing the tip of Arthur's nose.
“I love you,” Arthur replies, saying the words for what he thinks is the first time. He doesn't know why it took him so long, when he's known it to be true for ages now; when he looks at Merlin's smiling face, and his shiny, blue eyes and his soft lips stretched in a wide smile that shows off his perfectly snow-white teeth, it's obvious that it was all worth it, every fight, every argument and every battle, just to have this, right now.
“I know,” Merlin replies, kissing him briefly, before rolling over to the side and stretching his arms and legs. Arthur watches him make a snow angel then decides that, fuck it, even full grown men deserve a day of childish fun every once in a while, and making his own angel that ends up looking like it's sharing a wing with Merlin's. Merlin laughs at how defective their angels look, but Arthur actually thinks they're kind of appropriate.