Fic: London, Said He (9/12)
Title: London, Said He
Rating: R
Genres: Science Fiction (Time Travel), Humour, Romance
Era: Mix of canon-era and near-future (22nd century) reincarnation era
Pairings: Merlin/Arthur, one-sided Gwaine/Merlin, implied Gwaine/Percy
Wordcount: 4000 (this chapter); 45k total
Betas: percygranger, messyangel81
This really hasn't been Merlin's day. Or week. Or month, really. Seeing his best friend die in front of him was bad enough. But magicking himself into the future in order to save Arthur? Probably not as good an idea as it seemed on paper. And this future version of Gwaine will not stop hitting on him. Even in front of the future Arthur - talk about embarrassing. Especially since Merlin needs to get to know this Arthur if he's ever going to figure out how to save his.
Chapter 1: Camelot
Chapter 2: Let's Do the Time Warp Again
Chapter 3: Gwaine
Chapter 4: Getting to Know You
Chapter 5: Arthur
Chapter 6: The Glorious Life of a PA
Chapter 7: Trouble in Paradise
Chapter 8: Cooking Classes
Chapter 9: The Confession
Merlin Emrys: hi.
Merlin Emrys: are you busy?
Merlin Emrys: there is something i need to tell you.
Arthur Penderton: Hello.
Arthur Penderton: That certainly sounds ominous.
Arthur Penderton: Are you trying to break up with me?
Merlin Emrys: what?
Arthur Penderton: Because I wasn’t aware we were dating yet.
Merlin Emrys: i dont even know how to respond to that.
Arthur Penderton: My advice is to carry on as if nothing happened.
Arthur Penderton: You wanted to tell me something?
Merlin Emrys: there are just a few things you need to know about me.
Arthur Penderton: Oh? Do you have some terrible secret?
Merlin Emrys: sort of.
Arthur Penderton: Let me guess. Are you a spy for the Canadian government?
Merlin Emrys: what?
Arthur Penderton: No?
Arthur Penderton: All right, do you have a secret wife living in Indonesia?
Arthur Penderton: You’re a drug addict, and you’re leaving for rehab?
Merlin Emrys: idiot.
Arthur Penderton: You’re actually a werewolf, and it’s too close to the full moon for us to meet?
Merlin Emrys: youre so weird.
Arthur Penderton: Not a werewolf, then.
Arthur Penderton: Do you have terrible morning breath?
Arthur Penderton: (Don’t worry, I have that too.)
Merlin Emrys: i do not have morning breath!!!
Arthur Penderton: Prove it.
Arthur Penderton: ;)
Merlin Emrys: oh gods arthur
Merlin Emrys: youre flirting with me!
Arthur Penderton: Very astute of you.
Arthur Penderton: Your observational skills leave me in awe.
Arthur Penderton: Tell me, how long did it take you to realise Gwaine was propositioning you?
Merlin Emrys: too long.
Arthur Penderton: If it took more than thirty seconds, I’d agree.
Merlin Emrys: stop distracting me
Merlin Emrys: i need to tell you something.
Arthur Penderton: Tell me what?
Arthur Penderton: I’m serious, Merlin.
Arthur Penderton: I won’t tease you.
Arthur Penderton: Oh, come on, are you really going to leave it like that?
Arthur Penderton: You have to tell me now!
Merlin Emrys: stop that i am still typing!!
Arthur Penderton: Still?
Arthur Penderton: This is torture, Merlin.
Arthur Penderton: My curiosity is killing me.
Arthur Penderton: Slowly.
Arthur Penderton: Painfully.
Arthur Penderton: Make it stop.
Arthur Penderton: Please.
Arthur Penderton: Don’t make me beg in caps-lock.
Merlin Emrys: okay
Merlin Emrys: So last week I told you about the magic. That is not everything I need to tell you. I’m not just any Merlin - I am THE Merlin, or whatever. The original Merlin, who lives in Camelot. I transported myself from the past to save Prince Arthur. He died. I need to find a way to save him. I think you can help.
Merlin Emrys: see i typed it out with capitals and commas and everything
Merlin Emrys: oh gods
Merlin Emrys: say something
Merlin Emrys: arthur are you still there?
Arthur Penderton: Stop
Merlin Emrys: sorry
Arthur Penderton: no it’s
Arthur Penderton: It’s fine.
Arthur Penderton: I’m going to call you, okay?
Merlin Emrys: okay
arthur.penderton@gmail.com has set their status to Away
Merlin nearly dropped the phone when it finally rang, the trilling sound sharp and atonal. He swiped towards the green circle with a shaking finger, like Gwaine had showed him the few times he’d tried calling him.
“So,” Arthur’s voice bled through, tinny and strange, from the top part of the black box. “Maybe this is something we could discuss in person?”
Merlin bit his lip, glancing away from the screen. “Um, yes.”
There was a moment of silence on the other line, and the sound of Arthur clearing his throat. Merlin dug his bare toes deeper into the carpet as the fingers of his right hand traced figure eights over his thigh.
Merlin cleared his own throat before speaking. “So you know how you said Gwaine should take me out for vindaloo?”
“I remember,” Arthur said.
“I haven’t eaten yet,” Merlin blurted. “Dinner, I mean.”
Another cough, and the sound of fabric rustling. “So, curry?”
“If - that is to say, it might be… I might like that.”
“Okay.” Merlin heard the soft puff of breath, in and out and in again. “I’ll be over in half an hour.”
The strange click was almost less jarring than the sudden silence as Merlin realised he could no longer hear Arthur’s breathing.
Merlin rose from the sofa and padded over to Gwaine’s closed bedroom door. “Gwaine?”
“Give me five minutes,” Gwaine called from the inside, his voice slightly muffled. “I’ll crash at Percy’s tonight.” The door swung open and Gwaine frowned at Merlin. “If you have sex on my bed, wash the sheets.”
Merlin choked on his own spit. “We’re not having sex anywhere!”
“Oh ye of little faith.” Gwaine grinned as he pushed past Merlin towards the front door of the flat. “Oh, and don’t forget these.” He tossed a bottle of clear liquid and a small foil square at Merlin’s head. “Princess can tell you how to use them.”
Merlin threw the door open before Arthur had even finished raising his hand to knock. “Hi,” he said, breathless. Arthur just stared at him, one eyebrow raised.
“Hi?”
“So, do you… want to come in?”
Arthur rolled his eyes. “No, I was just planning on standing here for the rest of the night.”
“Well, in that case,” Merlin said, and made a motion to shut the door.
“Oi!” Arthur moved into the flat and mock-glared at Merlin. “Do you want dinner or not?” He nodded down at the brown box nestled in his arms, holding a variety of cylindrical red containers decorated with black and white loops and swirls.
Merlin grinned. “D’you think you got enough?” It looked like enough food to feed a dozen people.
Arthur scowled as he handed over the box to Merlin and started shrugging off his black overcoat. “I like variety.” His shirt was a deep Camelot red, the top three buttons undone, and Merlin quickly turned to put the food on the kitchen counter.
“Gwaine’s out,” he called over his shoulder. “For the rest of the night.” The sounds of sliding fabric, the creak of the closet door, and the soft click of Arthur’s shoes against the wood floor drifted across the sitting room.
“So.” Arthur cleared his throat from behind Merlin. “You’re the original Merlin?”
Merlin didn’t turn around; he just concentrated on pulling cartons out of the cardboard box to set on the counter. “What did you get?”
“Oh, very subtle topic change, there.” There was the sound of a sigh and shuffling feet as Arthur moved to loom over Merlin’s shoulder. “I picked up lamb vindaloo, aloo matar, dal makhani, saag paneer. Chicken tikka masala for comparison, since you’re a rubbish cook.”
“Am not,” Merlin snapped automatically, as he turned to look at Arthur.
He wasn’t looking at Merlin’s face, though. His eyes were angled down, studying the movements of Merlin’s fingers over the takeaway lids, sliding the flaps open one by one. The tips of his ears were red when his gaze finally flickered upward to Merlin’s face, snagging for a moment on the way up. By the time their eyes met, Arthur’s pupils were dark and wide in his face. The tip of his tongue flickered out to snag on his lower lip. “I also picked up gajar halwa. For dessert.”
Merlin turned back to the food, his hands suddenly clammy and his pulse spiking. “Can you grab the plates? They’re in the cabinet on-“
“The top left, I know.” Arthur walked stiffly into the kitchen and made a beeline for the silverware drawer, rifling through the forks as if this were his own flat.
“Did you live here?”
“What? No.” Arthur set two stacked plates and a spoon on the counter next to Merlin with a faint clink, before carrying forks, spoons, and tea towels out to the sitting room table. He slumped down on the sofa, propping his feet to the right of the cutlery. “I used to come over more often. Watch footie, order pizza. That sort of thing.”
Merlin carefully dished a few spoonfuls from each container onto both plates. “Used to?”
Arthur was silent for a long moment before he finally spoke. “Gwaine and I… we’re friends, yeah?”
“Yes?”
“We used to be… more than that.”
Merlin set down the spoon. “All right.”
“It was… difficult. For me. For a while.”
Merlin tried glancing over, but Arthur’s head was turned away, towards the portrait on the wall of the girl mid-jump.
Deciding Arthur wasn’t going to say anything more, Merlin turned back to the food. The green goop looked somewhat unappetising, but it smelled fantastic. He gathered up both plates and brought them over to where Arthur was still sitting, staring at the wall and playing absently with the hem of his tunic.
He settled into the sofa cushions opposite Arthur and brought his plate up to rest on the leaning incline of his chest before trying a bite of the red curry, speckled with onions and chunks of dark meat.
“Merlin…” It sounded almost like a sigh, and when Merlin lifted his head, fork tines still between his lips, Arthur was staring at his mouth.
“What?”
Arthur startled and rolled his eyes exaggeratedly before turning back to look Merlin in the eye. “Are we going to talk about this? Or are you going to ask me invasive questions about my past relationships and… did you just mix the vindaloo and the saag?” His nose wrinkled in disgust as he stared down at Merlin’s plate as the green and red piles bled into each other.
This was so much easier to say in writing. Then Arthur wouldn’t be staring at him, one eyebrow raised. Though at least the expression had more to do with Merlin’s apparently poor taste in curry rather than his inability to tell Arthur something important.
This Arthur couldn’t execute him for having magic. This Arthur couldn’t sack him (well, more than he had already). This Arthur couldn’t break his heart.
Right?
“I’m from Camelot.”
Arthur blinked and his head jerked back as he tore his gaze away from Merlin’s dinner plate. “Yeah?”
Merlin swallowed, licking the last traces of sauce from his lips. “I used magic to bring myself here. To London.”
“That explains your incompetence as a personal assistant.”
Merlin glared. “Data entry is horrid. I don’t know why you would subject me to such torture.”
“Well, I certainly wasn’t going to do it myself.”
“Of course you weren’t.” Merlin shook his head to clear it. He was going to tell Arthur everything; he couldn’t afford to get distracted by flirti-
Merlin resolved not to finish that train of thought.
“Look,” Merlin said, “the whole reason I’m here, you know, in London, and not Camelot, is because Arthur died.”
“King Arthur?”
“He’s not king yet.”
“Fine, but I don’t see what that has to do with me.” Arthur turned in his seat, slouching back against the cushions.
“What? Of course it does.” Merlin set his plate down and leant closer. “You’re Arthur.”
Arthur rolled his eyes even as his hands balled up into fists, his muscles stiffening with tension. “That’s my name, yes.”
“No, you don’t get it, do you? You’re Arthur. You’re him. I think you must be reborn, or something, but-“
“I’m King Arthur?”
“Well, obviously you’re not king, but…”
“I’m King Arthur.”
“Yes! Or, you were. In a previous lifetime.”
“So, I… that is, King Arthur died, and you came here, to the future?”
“To get your help!”
“Right.”
They were silent as Arthur finally picked up his plate and twirled his fork through the puddles of brown, red, and green.
Merlin swallowed his bite of curry and spoke. “So can you?”
Arthur looked up, the bridge of his nose crinkling in confusion. “Can I what?”
“Help me.”
“Help you… save King Arthur?”
“He’s not king yet,” Merlin muttered. “But yes. Help me figure out how to prevent his death.”
Arthur set down his fork. “Do you have a plan?”
Merlin grinned. Now he was getting somewhere. “Of course!”
Arthur’s raised eyebrow seemed to ask, Well?
“Um, well. My plan pretty much consisted of, find you, befriend you, and figure out how to save my Arthur.”
Arthur snorted. “Brilliant plan.”
“Like you could come up with better.”
“Actually,” Arthur said, “I think I can. How did you say he died?”
“He was poisoned, I think.”
Arthur cracked his knuckles. “Has Gwaine introduced you to the glories of the internet yet?”
Merlin shook his head. “He told me not to touch the internet, because he didn’t want his computer to contract a disease.”
“Of course he did,” Arthur said, rolling his eyes. “Do you know the password to his laptop?”
“His laptop? Do you mean the large folding mobile with letters inset into the bottom half?” Merlin set his plate down on the table and started walking towards Gwaine’s office. “Yeah, the password is Gwaine Is Well Fit.”
Merlin could hear Arthur’s snort behind him.
Several hours later, Merlin was roused by a firm hand shaking his shoulder.
“Come on. Up you get.”
“Arthur?” Merlin blinked sleepily up at him. He was looking down at Merlin with such an uncharacteristic tenderness. No - not uncharacteristic. It was not the first time he had seen such fondness on Arthur’s face, but it was perhaps the first time that it had been unmasked, the emotion laid bare for Merlin to witness.
“You fell asleep,” Arthur said, the side of his mouth twisting up in a gentle smile. His eyes, though, were still sad.
Merlin blinked down at the smudged screen of his mobile, which was currently serving as his pillow, and his shoulders tensed under Arthur’s palm. “It’s not enough. I can’t find anything.”
Arthur squeezed, the warmth spreading through Merlin’s shoulder and into his chest. “You will.”
“Will I?”
Arthur’s hand fell from his shoulder, and Merlin felt the loss acutely as Arthur settled into the chair beside him. “He’s lucky. To have you.”
Merlin said nothing, simply biting his lip, the patch of skin on his shoulder still radiating heat as though Arthur had seared a brand there. They both sat there for a long moment, the only sounds the steady in and out of their breathing.
Arthur was quiet when he finally spoke. “I wish someone cared about me as much as you care for him.”
Merlin turned his head to look over. Arthur was staring down at his hands, resting on the table in front of them. “Arthur, I-“
“I’m not him. I know.”
“No, you are. You’re a prat, and arrogant and spoilt, like him.”
“Oh, thanks-”
“And you’re kind, like him. You make me laugh. You’re still Arthur.”
Arthur finally turned to meet Merlin’s gaze. “But I’m not him. I’m not your Arthur.”
“You could be.”
The heat that flashed in Arthur’s eyes was unmistakable. Merlin felt his lips part of their own accord, his breath quickening in his chest, as Arthur swivelled in his chair, leaning forward, his eyes flicking to his lips.
Arthur stood abruptly, his chair skittering away as he thrust it backwards. “I should go.”
“Don’t.” Merlin grabbed Arthur’s wrist.
He only had a moment to think before Arthur was on top of him, Merlin’s own chair squeaking in protest from the sudden weight of him, straddling Merlin’s lap, his fingers raking through the hair at Merlin’s nape, left thumb pressing an indent at the juncture of Merlin’s jaw, and then Arthur’s lips were on his own.
Merlin leaned into the kiss, one hand still gripping Arthur’s wrist, the other blindly reaching out, curling into the soft cotton of Arthur’s shirt, the muscles of his chest hard and warm underneath.
“Is this what you wanted?” Arthur whispered against Merlin’s mouth. His lips were soft and slightly chapped.
In lieu of answering, Merlin simply leant forward, seeking out those lips once more.
Merlin had often thought of what it would be like to kiss Arthur; he had always pictured their first kisses to be chaste, simple, slow. A fleeting brush of lips, perhaps, or a slow exploration of each other’s skin, gentle nips at the edge of Arthur’s mouth, his jaw, the ridge of his Adam’s apple.
This was nothing like his imaginings. Merlin let out a whimper when Arthur sucked his lower lip into his mouth and bit down roughly. Merlin felt like he was burning from the inside out, his hands flying over Arthur’s skin, smoothing down the lines of his biceps and rubbing a thumb down the stubble on his jaw. He opened his mouth to the onslaught and Arthur’s tongue slipped inside, thrusting against his own, rubbing up against the top of his hard palate, flicking against the backs of his front teeth. The tongue withdrew and Arthur bit down on his lower lip, even harder than before, and Merlin could taste the metallic tang of blood fill his mouth. Merlin whimpered as he felt Arthur pull back, cold air rushing in between them.
“Does your Arthur kiss you like this? Does he mark you with his bites? Sink his fingers into your hips and leave purple marks on your flesh? Does he drive into you so hard that you can’t walk for days afterwards?”
“No,” Merlin managed to gasp.
“Is that what you want, Merlin? Do you want to be marked, to be claimed?” Arthur was shaking now, his fingers clumsily fumbling with the buttons of Merlin’s shirt and scratching marks into his exposed chest.
“Please.” The word came out in a whine, breathy, desperate. Arthur licked at his earlobe, and Merlin arched into the contact.
“What was that?”
“Please,” Merlin said.
“Tell me,” Arthur whispered, voice pitched low, the words fluttering warm and moist against Merlin’s ear.
“Mark me.”
Arthur bit down at the flesh just below his ear, and Merlin let out a shaky groan. “What else?”
“Claim me.”
“Tell me exactly.”
“Touch me.”
“Touch you where, Merlin?”
“You know exactly where, you pra-“ he choked out, and then Arthur’s hands were stroking over the fabric of his jeans, heat and pressure bleeding through but not enough, not nearly enough. “Yes,” he gasped, spreading his legs to give Arthur better access.
That was when the chair broke.
Merlin found himself trapped between the ruins of the chair, the plastic digging into his back, and Arthur, who was sprawled all over him, one hand trapped between them (and now squashing against Merlin’s crotch in a less-than-pleasant fashion) and the other braced against the carpeted floor. His expression wasn’t one of shock or surprise, but rather indignation, as though the chair had personally insulted him by breaking mid-grope. Merlin took one look at Arthur’s furrowed brow and pinched mouth and burst out laughing.
“Wha- Merlin!” Arthur shoved himself off of Merlin, rolling to the side. “It’s not funny!”
Merlin snorted, gasping out, “Your face! Arthur, your face,” in between laughs.
“There is nothing wrong with my- stop laughing, you idiot!”
Merlin rolled off the broken heap of plastic and metal that had once been his chair, still shaking with laughter. “Someone must hate me,” he remarked. His laughter was bordering on hysterical now.
“What?” Arthur was looking less affronted and more confused, now, his mouth softening.
“I’m never getting laid at this rate,” Merlin said. If he wasn’t careful his laughter would turn into sobs. He bit his lip and closed his eyes, forcing his shaky breaths to even out as the adrenaline flooded his system. “Well, at least I got further with you than I’ve ever done with my Arthur.”
“Right,” Arthur said, his voice strangely flat, and when Merlin opened his eyes, he saw that Arthur was standing, looking away from Merlin. “I’ll be off, then.”
“What?” Merlin struggled to his feet, but Arthur was already striding off towards the door. “Arthur, wait-“
The door slammed shut, and Merlin stood there, not really sure what had just happened.
He thought back to the last thing he’d said before Arthur had left. My Arthur.
Oh. “Shite.”
The click of the door locking itself after Arthur left finally snapped Merlin out of his increasingly horrified chain of thought.
“Bugger.” He jolted to his feet, only remembering his shoes at the last moment. He slipped his feet into the white trainers Gwaine had bought him, not bothering to fasten the laces, and nearly brained himself on the edge of the kitchen counter whilst getting to his feet. He fumbled with the door handle and flung the door open, darted down the corridor, yanked open the wooden door to the stairwell- and tripped over the man sat at the top of the steps.
Two things saved him from falling down the rest of the stairs and breaking his neck: the first was the pair of strong arms gripping at his shirt and wrapped around his legs; the second was time stopping.
Stupid magic, Merlin thought. With his luck, it would blink out any second and he’d just continue his descent down the staircase. He twisted in Arthur’s grip so that he was facing towards the top of the stairs instead of plunging to his death, and grabbed the banister with both hands.
“Mph!” Arthur blinked up at him as he was tugged down by Merlin’s momentum, but instead of falling, he ended up smashing his face into Merlin’s stomach. “Bloody hell, Merlin!”
“Sorry!” Merlin realised too late that they were now tipping the other direction, and brought his hands up to cradle the back of Arthur’s skull before he tipped backwards and sprawled against the concrete.
Arthur blinked up at him. “When I said I was leaving, I didn’t expect you to come outside and attack me.”
“I wasn’t attacking- no, wait, you’re trying to distract me. Stop that.” Merlin suddenly registered the position of his limbs, sprawled as he was on top of Arthur, their legs tangled together, and both hands trapped between Arthur’s head and the floor. He reared back, his whole face hot, and stammered, “Oh, gods, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean-“
Arthur scooted back towards the door, his legs sprawled out in front of him, and propped himself up onto his elbows. “Did I forget something?”
“No.” Merlin bit his lip. He wasn’t really sure what he had wanted to say. Apologise for being an idiot? “I wanted to apologise for being an idiot.”
Arthur’s quirked into a smirk, but his eyes narrowed. “Oh?”
“I like you.”
Arthur rolled his eyes this time. “You’re missing the point, Merlin.”
“No.” Merlin settled down on the landing next to Arthur, tucking his knees under his chin and wrapping his arms around his shins. “I’m sorry I compared you to him.”
Arthur’s eyes fluttered shut for a brief moment, and he turned his head away. “It’s my fault.”
Merlin wasn’t really sure how to respond, so he stayed silent as Arthur’s thumb traced a fracture in the floor beneath them.
Finally, Arthur let out a sigh. “I was serious. When I said I should go.”
“I don’t-“
“I know better,” Arthur interrupted, “than to fall in love with you.”
“So do I.”
Arthur frowned at Merlin’s ankles. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Doesn’t mean I won’t.”
Arthur stood abruptly. “You are an idiot.”
“I never said I wasn’t.”
Arthur finally turned to look at Merlin, but there was something odd about his expression. Instead of anger, or annoyance, there was something almost wistful in the twist of his mouth, the upturn of his brow. “Can’t you just leave it alone?”
Merlin got to his feet. His muscles felt shaky and weak, as though he could collapse at any moment. “I’ve never been good at leaving well enough alone.”
Arthur stared at him as the creeping feeling in Merlin’s stomach spread to his limbs, his whole body feeling as if it were about to shake apart from tension.
“Fuck it,” Arthur said, and his hands wrapped around Merlin’s shoulders and his lips collided with Merlin’s.
Before Merlin could register anything more complicated than He’s kissing me, and Ow, the back of my head just hit the wall, and I should kiss him back, Arthur pulled away and clattered down the steps.
“What the hell, Arthur?” Merlin shouted down the stairwell, leaning over the handrail to see Arthur’s blond head disappearing from view.
Chapter 10: Kay
Rating: R
Genres: Science Fiction (Time Travel), Humour, Romance
Era: Mix of canon-era and near-future (22nd century) reincarnation era
Pairings: Merlin/Arthur, one-sided Gwaine/Merlin, implied Gwaine/Percy
Wordcount: 4000 (this chapter); 45k total
Betas: percygranger, messyangel81
This really hasn't been Merlin's day. Or week. Or month, really. Seeing his best friend die in front of him was bad enough. But magicking himself into the future in order to save Arthur? Probably not as good an idea as it seemed on paper. And this future version of Gwaine will not stop hitting on him. Even in front of the future Arthur - talk about embarrassing. Especially since Merlin needs to get to know this Arthur if he's ever going to figure out how to save his.
Chapter 1: Camelot
Chapter 2: Let's Do the Time Warp Again
Chapter 3: Gwaine
Chapter 4: Getting to Know You
Chapter 5: Arthur
Chapter 6: The Glorious Life of a PA
Chapter 7: Trouble in Paradise
Chapter 8: Cooking Classes
Chapter 9: The Confession
Merlin Emrys: hi.
Merlin Emrys: are you busy?
Merlin Emrys: there is something i need to tell you.
Arthur Penderton: Hello.
Arthur Penderton: That certainly sounds ominous.
Arthur Penderton: Are you trying to break up with me?
Merlin Emrys: what?
Arthur Penderton: Because I wasn’t aware we were dating yet.
Merlin Emrys: i dont even know how to respond to that.
Arthur Penderton: My advice is to carry on as if nothing happened.
Arthur Penderton: You wanted to tell me something?
Merlin Emrys: there are just a few things you need to know about me.
Arthur Penderton: Oh? Do you have some terrible secret?
Merlin Emrys: sort of.
Arthur Penderton: Let me guess. Are you a spy for the Canadian government?
Merlin Emrys: what?
Arthur Penderton: No?
Arthur Penderton: All right, do you have a secret wife living in Indonesia?
Arthur Penderton: You’re a drug addict, and you’re leaving for rehab?
Merlin Emrys: idiot.
Arthur Penderton: You’re actually a werewolf, and it’s too close to the full moon for us to meet?
Merlin Emrys: youre so weird.
Arthur Penderton: Not a werewolf, then.
Arthur Penderton: Do you have terrible morning breath?
Arthur Penderton: (Don’t worry, I have that too.)
Merlin Emrys: i do not have morning breath!!!
Arthur Penderton: Prove it.
Arthur Penderton: ;)
Merlin Emrys: oh gods arthur
Merlin Emrys: youre flirting with me!
Arthur Penderton: Very astute of you.
Arthur Penderton: Your observational skills leave me in awe.
Arthur Penderton: Tell me, how long did it take you to realise Gwaine was propositioning you?
Merlin Emrys: too long.
Arthur Penderton: If it took more than thirty seconds, I’d agree.
Merlin Emrys: stop distracting me
Merlin Emrys: i need to tell you something.
Arthur Penderton: Tell me what?
Arthur Penderton: I’m serious, Merlin.
Arthur Penderton: I won’t tease you.
Arthur Penderton: Oh, come on, are you really going to leave it like that?
Arthur Penderton: You have to tell me now!
Merlin Emrys: stop that i am still typing!!
Arthur Penderton: Still?
Arthur Penderton: This is torture, Merlin.
Arthur Penderton: My curiosity is killing me.
Arthur Penderton: Slowly.
Arthur Penderton: Painfully.
Arthur Penderton: Make it stop.
Arthur Penderton: Please.
Arthur Penderton: Don’t make me beg in caps-lock.
Merlin Emrys: okay
Merlin Emrys: So last week I told you about the magic. That is not everything I need to tell you. I’m not just any Merlin - I am THE Merlin, or whatever. The original Merlin, who lives in Camelot. I transported myself from the past to save Prince Arthur. He died. I need to find a way to save him. I think you can help.
Merlin Emrys: see i typed it out with capitals and commas and everything
Merlin Emrys: oh gods
Merlin Emrys: say something
Merlin Emrys: arthur are you still there?
Arthur Penderton: Stop
Merlin Emrys: sorry
Arthur Penderton: no it’s
Arthur Penderton: It’s fine.
Arthur Penderton: I’m going to call you, okay?
Merlin Emrys: okay
arthur.penderton@gmail.com has set their status to Away
Merlin nearly dropped the phone when it finally rang, the trilling sound sharp and atonal. He swiped towards the green circle with a shaking finger, like Gwaine had showed him the few times he’d tried calling him.
“So,” Arthur’s voice bled through, tinny and strange, from the top part of the black box. “Maybe this is something we could discuss in person?”
Merlin bit his lip, glancing away from the screen. “Um, yes.”
There was a moment of silence on the other line, and the sound of Arthur clearing his throat. Merlin dug his bare toes deeper into the carpet as the fingers of his right hand traced figure eights over his thigh.
Merlin cleared his own throat before speaking. “So you know how you said Gwaine should take me out for vindaloo?”
“I remember,” Arthur said.
“I haven’t eaten yet,” Merlin blurted. “Dinner, I mean.”
Another cough, and the sound of fabric rustling. “So, curry?”
“If - that is to say, it might be… I might like that.”
“Okay.” Merlin heard the soft puff of breath, in and out and in again. “I’ll be over in half an hour.”
The strange click was almost less jarring than the sudden silence as Merlin realised he could no longer hear Arthur’s breathing.
Merlin rose from the sofa and padded over to Gwaine’s closed bedroom door. “Gwaine?”
“Give me five minutes,” Gwaine called from the inside, his voice slightly muffled. “I’ll crash at Percy’s tonight.” The door swung open and Gwaine frowned at Merlin. “If you have sex on my bed, wash the sheets.”
Merlin choked on his own spit. “We’re not having sex anywhere!”
“Oh ye of little faith.” Gwaine grinned as he pushed past Merlin towards the front door of the flat. “Oh, and don’t forget these.” He tossed a bottle of clear liquid and a small foil square at Merlin’s head. “Princess can tell you how to use them.”
Merlin threw the door open before Arthur had even finished raising his hand to knock. “Hi,” he said, breathless. Arthur just stared at him, one eyebrow raised.
“Hi?”
“So, do you… want to come in?”
Arthur rolled his eyes. “No, I was just planning on standing here for the rest of the night.”
“Well, in that case,” Merlin said, and made a motion to shut the door.
“Oi!” Arthur moved into the flat and mock-glared at Merlin. “Do you want dinner or not?” He nodded down at the brown box nestled in his arms, holding a variety of cylindrical red containers decorated with black and white loops and swirls.
Merlin grinned. “D’you think you got enough?” It looked like enough food to feed a dozen people.
Arthur scowled as he handed over the box to Merlin and started shrugging off his black overcoat. “I like variety.” His shirt was a deep Camelot red, the top three buttons undone, and Merlin quickly turned to put the food on the kitchen counter.
“Gwaine’s out,” he called over his shoulder. “For the rest of the night.” The sounds of sliding fabric, the creak of the closet door, and the soft click of Arthur’s shoes against the wood floor drifted across the sitting room.
“So.” Arthur cleared his throat from behind Merlin. “You’re the original Merlin?”
Merlin didn’t turn around; he just concentrated on pulling cartons out of the cardboard box to set on the counter. “What did you get?”
“Oh, very subtle topic change, there.” There was the sound of a sigh and shuffling feet as Arthur moved to loom over Merlin’s shoulder. “I picked up lamb vindaloo, aloo matar, dal makhani, saag paneer. Chicken tikka masala for comparison, since you’re a rubbish cook.”
“Am not,” Merlin snapped automatically, as he turned to look at Arthur.
He wasn’t looking at Merlin’s face, though. His eyes were angled down, studying the movements of Merlin’s fingers over the takeaway lids, sliding the flaps open one by one. The tips of his ears were red when his gaze finally flickered upward to Merlin’s face, snagging for a moment on the way up. By the time their eyes met, Arthur’s pupils were dark and wide in his face. The tip of his tongue flickered out to snag on his lower lip. “I also picked up gajar halwa. For dessert.”
Merlin turned back to the food, his hands suddenly clammy and his pulse spiking. “Can you grab the plates? They’re in the cabinet on-“
“The top left, I know.” Arthur walked stiffly into the kitchen and made a beeline for the silverware drawer, rifling through the forks as if this were his own flat.
“Did you live here?”
“What? No.” Arthur set two stacked plates and a spoon on the counter next to Merlin with a faint clink, before carrying forks, spoons, and tea towels out to the sitting room table. He slumped down on the sofa, propping his feet to the right of the cutlery. “I used to come over more often. Watch footie, order pizza. That sort of thing.”
Merlin carefully dished a few spoonfuls from each container onto both plates. “Used to?”
Arthur was silent for a long moment before he finally spoke. “Gwaine and I… we’re friends, yeah?”
“Yes?”
“We used to be… more than that.”
Merlin set down the spoon. “All right.”
“It was… difficult. For me. For a while.”
Merlin tried glancing over, but Arthur’s head was turned away, towards the portrait on the wall of the girl mid-jump.
Deciding Arthur wasn’t going to say anything more, Merlin turned back to the food. The green goop looked somewhat unappetising, but it smelled fantastic. He gathered up both plates and brought them over to where Arthur was still sitting, staring at the wall and playing absently with the hem of his tunic.
He settled into the sofa cushions opposite Arthur and brought his plate up to rest on the leaning incline of his chest before trying a bite of the red curry, speckled with onions and chunks of dark meat.
“Merlin…” It sounded almost like a sigh, and when Merlin lifted his head, fork tines still between his lips, Arthur was staring at his mouth.
“What?”
Arthur startled and rolled his eyes exaggeratedly before turning back to look Merlin in the eye. “Are we going to talk about this? Or are you going to ask me invasive questions about my past relationships and… did you just mix the vindaloo and the saag?” His nose wrinkled in disgust as he stared down at Merlin’s plate as the green and red piles bled into each other.
This was so much easier to say in writing. Then Arthur wouldn’t be staring at him, one eyebrow raised. Though at least the expression had more to do with Merlin’s apparently poor taste in curry rather than his inability to tell Arthur something important.
This Arthur couldn’t execute him for having magic. This Arthur couldn’t sack him (well, more than he had already). This Arthur couldn’t break his heart.
Right?
“I’m from Camelot.”
Arthur blinked and his head jerked back as he tore his gaze away from Merlin’s dinner plate. “Yeah?”
Merlin swallowed, licking the last traces of sauce from his lips. “I used magic to bring myself here. To London.”
“That explains your incompetence as a personal assistant.”
Merlin glared. “Data entry is horrid. I don’t know why you would subject me to such torture.”
“Well, I certainly wasn’t going to do it myself.”
“Of course you weren’t.” Merlin shook his head to clear it. He was going to tell Arthur everything; he couldn’t afford to get distracted by flirti-
Merlin resolved not to finish that train of thought.
“Look,” Merlin said, “the whole reason I’m here, you know, in London, and not Camelot, is because Arthur died.”
“King Arthur?”
“He’s not king yet.”
“Fine, but I don’t see what that has to do with me.” Arthur turned in his seat, slouching back against the cushions.
“What? Of course it does.” Merlin set his plate down and leant closer. “You’re Arthur.”
Arthur rolled his eyes even as his hands balled up into fists, his muscles stiffening with tension. “That’s my name, yes.”
“No, you don’t get it, do you? You’re Arthur. You’re him. I think you must be reborn, or something, but-“
“I’m King Arthur?”
“Well, obviously you’re not king, but…”
“I’m King Arthur.”
“Yes! Or, you were. In a previous lifetime.”
“So, I… that is, King Arthur died, and you came here, to the future?”
“To get your help!”
“Right.”
They were silent as Arthur finally picked up his plate and twirled his fork through the puddles of brown, red, and green.
Merlin swallowed his bite of curry and spoke. “So can you?”
Arthur looked up, the bridge of his nose crinkling in confusion. “Can I what?”
“Help me.”
“Help you… save King Arthur?”
“He’s not king yet,” Merlin muttered. “But yes. Help me figure out how to prevent his death.”
Arthur set down his fork. “Do you have a plan?”
Merlin grinned. Now he was getting somewhere. “Of course!”
Arthur’s raised eyebrow seemed to ask, Well?
“Um, well. My plan pretty much consisted of, find you, befriend you, and figure out how to save my Arthur.”
Arthur snorted. “Brilliant plan.”
“Like you could come up with better.”
“Actually,” Arthur said, “I think I can. How did you say he died?”
“He was poisoned, I think.”
Arthur cracked his knuckles. “Has Gwaine introduced you to the glories of the internet yet?”
Merlin shook his head. “He told me not to touch the internet, because he didn’t want his computer to contract a disease.”
“Of course he did,” Arthur said, rolling his eyes. “Do you know the password to his laptop?”
“His laptop? Do you mean the large folding mobile with letters inset into the bottom half?” Merlin set his plate down on the table and started walking towards Gwaine’s office. “Yeah, the password is Gwaine Is Well Fit.”
Merlin could hear Arthur’s snort behind him.
Several hours later, Merlin was roused by a firm hand shaking his shoulder.
“Come on. Up you get.”
“Arthur?” Merlin blinked sleepily up at him. He was looking down at Merlin with such an uncharacteristic tenderness. No - not uncharacteristic. It was not the first time he had seen such fondness on Arthur’s face, but it was perhaps the first time that it had been unmasked, the emotion laid bare for Merlin to witness.
“You fell asleep,” Arthur said, the side of his mouth twisting up in a gentle smile. His eyes, though, were still sad.
Merlin blinked down at the smudged screen of his mobile, which was currently serving as his pillow, and his shoulders tensed under Arthur’s palm. “It’s not enough. I can’t find anything.”
Arthur squeezed, the warmth spreading through Merlin’s shoulder and into his chest. “You will.”
“Will I?”
Arthur’s hand fell from his shoulder, and Merlin felt the loss acutely as Arthur settled into the chair beside him. “He’s lucky. To have you.”
Merlin said nothing, simply biting his lip, the patch of skin on his shoulder still radiating heat as though Arthur had seared a brand there. They both sat there for a long moment, the only sounds the steady in and out of their breathing.
Arthur was quiet when he finally spoke. “I wish someone cared about me as much as you care for him.”
Merlin turned his head to look over. Arthur was staring down at his hands, resting on the table in front of them. “Arthur, I-“
“I’m not him. I know.”
“No, you are. You’re a prat, and arrogant and spoilt, like him.”
“Oh, thanks-”
“And you’re kind, like him. You make me laugh. You’re still Arthur.”
Arthur finally turned to meet Merlin’s gaze. “But I’m not him. I’m not your Arthur.”
“You could be.”
The heat that flashed in Arthur’s eyes was unmistakable. Merlin felt his lips part of their own accord, his breath quickening in his chest, as Arthur swivelled in his chair, leaning forward, his eyes flicking to his lips.
Arthur stood abruptly, his chair skittering away as he thrust it backwards. “I should go.”
“Don’t.” Merlin grabbed Arthur’s wrist.
He only had a moment to think before Arthur was on top of him, Merlin’s own chair squeaking in protest from the sudden weight of him, straddling Merlin’s lap, his fingers raking through the hair at Merlin’s nape, left thumb pressing an indent at the juncture of Merlin’s jaw, and then Arthur’s lips were on his own.
Merlin leaned into the kiss, one hand still gripping Arthur’s wrist, the other blindly reaching out, curling into the soft cotton of Arthur’s shirt, the muscles of his chest hard and warm underneath.
“Is this what you wanted?” Arthur whispered against Merlin’s mouth. His lips were soft and slightly chapped.
In lieu of answering, Merlin simply leant forward, seeking out those lips once more.
Merlin had often thought of what it would be like to kiss Arthur; he had always pictured their first kisses to be chaste, simple, slow. A fleeting brush of lips, perhaps, or a slow exploration of each other’s skin, gentle nips at the edge of Arthur’s mouth, his jaw, the ridge of his Adam’s apple.
This was nothing like his imaginings. Merlin let out a whimper when Arthur sucked his lower lip into his mouth and bit down roughly. Merlin felt like he was burning from the inside out, his hands flying over Arthur’s skin, smoothing down the lines of his biceps and rubbing a thumb down the stubble on his jaw. He opened his mouth to the onslaught and Arthur’s tongue slipped inside, thrusting against his own, rubbing up against the top of his hard palate, flicking against the backs of his front teeth. The tongue withdrew and Arthur bit down on his lower lip, even harder than before, and Merlin could taste the metallic tang of blood fill his mouth. Merlin whimpered as he felt Arthur pull back, cold air rushing in between them.
“Does your Arthur kiss you like this? Does he mark you with his bites? Sink his fingers into your hips and leave purple marks on your flesh? Does he drive into you so hard that you can’t walk for days afterwards?”
“No,” Merlin managed to gasp.
“Is that what you want, Merlin? Do you want to be marked, to be claimed?” Arthur was shaking now, his fingers clumsily fumbling with the buttons of Merlin’s shirt and scratching marks into his exposed chest.
“Please.” The word came out in a whine, breathy, desperate. Arthur licked at his earlobe, and Merlin arched into the contact.
“What was that?”
“Please,” Merlin said.
“Tell me,” Arthur whispered, voice pitched low, the words fluttering warm and moist against Merlin’s ear.
“Mark me.”
Arthur bit down at the flesh just below his ear, and Merlin let out a shaky groan. “What else?”
“Claim me.”
“Tell me exactly.”
“Touch me.”
“Touch you where, Merlin?”
“You know exactly where, you pra-“ he choked out, and then Arthur’s hands were stroking over the fabric of his jeans, heat and pressure bleeding through but not enough, not nearly enough. “Yes,” he gasped, spreading his legs to give Arthur better access.
That was when the chair broke.
Merlin found himself trapped between the ruins of the chair, the plastic digging into his back, and Arthur, who was sprawled all over him, one hand trapped between them (and now squashing against Merlin’s crotch in a less-than-pleasant fashion) and the other braced against the carpeted floor. His expression wasn’t one of shock or surprise, but rather indignation, as though the chair had personally insulted him by breaking mid-grope. Merlin took one look at Arthur’s furrowed brow and pinched mouth and burst out laughing.
“Wha- Merlin!” Arthur shoved himself off of Merlin, rolling to the side. “It’s not funny!”
Merlin snorted, gasping out, “Your face! Arthur, your face,” in between laughs.
“There is nothing wrong with my- stop laughing, you idiot!”
Merlin rolled off the broken heap of plastic and metal that had once been his chair, still shaking with laughter. “Someone must hate me,” he remarked. His laughter was bordering on hysterical now.
“What?” Arthur was looking less affronted and more confused, now, his mouth softening.
“I’m never getting laid at this rate,” Merlin said. If he wasn’t careful his laughter would turn into sobs. He bit his lip and closed his eyes, forcing his shaky breaths to even out as the adrenaline flooded his system. “Well, at least I got further with you than I’ve ever done with my Arthur.”
“Right,” Arthur said, his voice strangely flat, and when Merlin opened his eyes, he saw that Arthur was standing, looking away from Merlin. “I’ll be off, then.”
“What?” Merlin struggled to his feet, but Arthur was already striding off towards the door. “Arthur, wait-“
The door slammed shut, and Merlin stood there, not really sure what had just happened.
He thought back to the last thing he’d said before Arthur had left. My Arthur.
Oh. “Shite.”
The click of the door locking itself after Arthur left finally snapped Merlin out of his increasingly horrified chain of thought.
“Bugger.” He jolted to his feet, only remembering his shoes at the last moment. He slipped his feet into the white trainers Gwaine had bought him, not bothering to fasten the laces, and nearly brained himself on the edge of the kitchen counter whilst getting to his feet. He fumbled with the door handle and flung the door open, darted down the corridor, yanked open the wooden door to the stairwell- and tripped over the man sat at the top of the steps.
Two things saved him from falling down the rest of the stairs and breaking his neck: the first was the pair of strong arms gripping at his shirt and wrapped around his legs; the second was time stopping.
Stupid magic, Merlin thought. With his luck, it would blink out any second and he’d just continue his descent down the staircase. He twisted in Arthur’s grip so that he was facing towards the top of the stairs instead of plunging to his death, and grabbed the banister with both hands.
“Mph!” Arthur blinked up at him as he was tugged down by Merlin’s momentum, but instead of falling, he ended up smashing his face into Merlin’s stomach. “Bloody hell, Merlin!”
“Sorry!” Merlin realised too late that they were now tipping the other direction, and brought his hands up to cradle the back of Arthur’s skull before he tipped backwards and sprawled against the concrete.
Arthur blinked up at him. “When I said I was leaving, I didn’t expect you to come outside and attack me.”
“I wasn’t attacking- no, wait, you’re trying to distract me. Stop that.” Merlin suddenly registered the position of his limbs, sprawled as he was on top of Arthur, their legs tangled together, and both hands trapped between Arthur’s head and the floor. He reared back, his whole face hot, and stammered, “Oh, gods, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean-“
Arthur scooted back towards the door, his legs sprawled out in front of him, and propped himself up onto his elbows. “Did I forget something?”
“No.” Merlin bit his lip. He wasn’t really sure what he had wanted to say. Apologise for being an idiot? “I wanted to apologise for being an idiot.”
Arthur’s quirked into a smirk, but his eyes narrowed. “Oh?”
“I like you.”
Arthur rolled his eyes this time. “You’re missing the point, Merlin.”
“No.” Merlin settled down on the landing next to Arthur, tucking his knees under his chin and wrapping his arms around his shins. “I’m sorry I compared you to him.”
Arthur’s eyes fluttered shut for a brief moment, and he turned his head away. “It’s my fault.”
Merlin wasn’t really sure how to respond, so he stayed silent as Arthur’s thumb traced a fracture in the floor beneath them.
Finally, Arthur let out a sigh. “I was serious. When I said I should go.”
“I don’t-“
“I know better,” Arthur interrupted, “than to fall in love with you.”
“So do I.”
Arthur frowned at Merlin’s ankles. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Doesn’t mean I won’t.”
Arthur stood abruptly. “You are an idiot.”
“I never said I wasn’t.”
Arthur finally turned to look at Merlin, but there was something odd about his expression. Instead of anger, or annoyance, there was something almost wistful in the twist of his mouth, the upturn of his brow. “Can’t you just leave it alone?”
Merlin got to his feet. His muscles felt shaky and weak, as though he could collapse at any moment. “I’ve never been good at leaving well enough alone.”
Arthur stared at him as the creeping feeling in Merlin’s stomach spread to his limbs, his whole body feeling as if it were about to shake apart from tension.
“Fuck it,” Arthur said, and his hands wrapped around Merlin’s shoulders and his lips collided with Merlin’s.
Before Merlin could register anything more complicated than He’s kissing me, and Ow, the back of my head just hit the wall, and I should kiss him back, Arthur pulled away and clattered down the steps.
“What the hell, Arthur?” Merlin shouted down the stairwell, leaning over the handrail to see Arthur’s blond head disappearing from view.
Chapter 10: Kay