Fic: Walking In Your Landscape (Arthur/Merlin, R)
After the Circus AU, I didn’t want to start another epic project just yet. inderpal suggested I write an explanation for Arthur’s recent behaviour towards Merlin. This is it.
It's more or less set after the first two episodes of Season 2 (very vague spoilers!), with the exception that I’m completely ignoring the Arthur/Gwen sexual tension - not because I dislike what’s happening in the show (quite the contrary), but because I have a very selective mindset when it comes to translating canon into fanon.
Arthur/Merlin
Mild R
~2500 words
>> What Arthur doesn’t know is that he’s just about one comment away from a fist to the stomach. <<
(Disclaimer: Merlin belongs to the BBC. I’m merely taking their characters for a spin.)
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Walking In Your Landscape
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Fruit, bread, meat, eggs, milk, water, two of those pastries Arthur likes so much… Yes, it’s all there; nothing is lacking that might give Arthur a reason to complain. Merlin pulls a face, raises his chin and pushes the door open.
“How very nice of you to finally make an appearance.” Arthur barely looks up at Merlin’s entrance, too busy ruffling through his wardrobe. “Otherwise, I might have sent a search party.”
Given that Arthur continues to devote his entire attention to the contents of his wardrobe, Merlin rather doubts Arthur would have sent out a search party, or as much as a single servant to look for Merlin. Besides, no amount of shirts can possibly require the intense concentration Arthur displays - although Merlin doesn’t object to the sight of Arthur’s bare chest, a gentle inwards curve below Arthur’s ribs, and-
Right. Merlin determinedly turns away to set Arthur’s breakfast tray down with a heavy clank, silverware rattling. “Good morning,” he says, his tone maybe lacking in respect just slightly.
“Don’t break what isn’t yours,” is the extent of Arthur’s reply. What he doesn’t know is that he’s just about one comment away from a fist to the stomach. Then again, Merlin is realistic enough to know that he doesn’t stand a chance against Arthur, not in a fight that has them using the same weapons, and anyway, Merlin doesn’t actually want to fight Arthur; he’d be perfectly happy if Arthur just stopped behaving like the complete and utter git he has shown himself to be ever since Merlin returned from the aftermath of bloody saving Arthur’s life. Again, at that.
Merlin straightens. He doesn’t glance at Arthur’s half-naked chest for even the tiniest part of a moment before raising his eyes for a glare. “Is there anything else you require, Sire?”
“A skilled manservant.” Arthur plucks a grape from the tray, examining it from up close. His voice is absent, as if he’s nearly forgot about Merlin’s presence in the room. “Not that that’s going to happen.”
If Merlin doesn’t slam the door on his way out, it’s only because his self-control has improved significantly since he arrived at Camelot.
--
“He’s insufferable,” Merlin says. After dipping his hand into the water he’s heating for Arthur’s bath, he decides the temperature doesn’t suffice yet. “Insufferable,” he repeats. “And a prat.”
Gwen clears her throat, giving Merlin a brief look that somehow contradicts her calm reply. “Yes.”
“A royal prat,” Merlin clarifies. He isn’t sure it needs clarification; he’s been quite clear in his complaining to Gwen. It’s possible she’s tired of listening, but really, what’s Merlin supposed to make of Arthur’s nonsensical behaviour? Arthur claiming that he wants to be treated just like any other man in the Kingdom is all good and well, but as long as he continues to order Merlin around like the spoilt prince he is, he’s about as credible as… as credible as something Merlin can’t think of at the moment. As credible as a cat’s promise to a mouse, maybe. Not that Merlin’s a mouse, just-Just nothing. He’s never been good at allegories and things like that.
“So he’s been like that for how long?” Gwen asks even though Merlin already told her, several times.
“Since I got back from,” Merlin’s tongue hardly hesitates, “Ealdor.”
“Ah, right.” Gwen nods and devotes an unusual amount of attention to stoking the fire.
“What?” Merlin asks.
She lifts one shoulder, her smile fleeting. “Nothing.”
Merlin narrows his eyes. “No, really, Gwen. What?”
“I’m just thinking about how Arthur’s been insufferable to everyone while you and Gaius were gone and no one knew where you were.” Gwen reaches for another log, then pauses with her hand suspended in the air, adding quickly, “Not that it has to mean anything, mind you. It’s just, he was. That’s all. I… Forget I said that. Let’s pretend I didn’t, and it doesn’t make sense, anyway.”
“Right,” Merlin says slowly. When he dips his hand into the water again, it nearly burns his skin.
--
For all that Arthur’s just splashing about his bath in the adjacent room, certainly not in need of Merlin’s assistance, he refused to let Merlin run a few errands in the meantime. “I might need more hot water,” was Arthur’s comment, and that was that. It’s obviously not Merlin’s fault if he doesn’t manage to finish his tasks as quickly as Arthur would like.
Arthur was largely insufferable during Merlin’s absence.
Absently, Merlin fluffs one of Arthur’s pillows.
So, while Merlin was gone, Arthur was insufferable to everyone instead of only to Merlin. Which, all right. He probably just missed having Merlin around as an outlet to his moods - although that doesn’t necessarily explain the expression on Arthur’s face when Merlin showed up with Arthur’s dinner, still dirty from the road and a bit shaky from previous experiences. It doesn’t explain the flash of hurt and something else in Arthur’s eyes, gone too quickly for Merlin to decipher, especially since the first words out of Arthur’s mouth were, “So you’re back. This puts an end to me enjoying competent service, I take it.”
“Yes, really, I’m not sure why I came back at all,” Merlin said. In hindsight, maybe that wasn’t the best reply he might have come up with.
He puts the pillow back down and glances towards the bathroom. All he can see is part of Arthur’s head, his wet hair dripping water over the edge of the tub, and of course it will be Merlin mopping up the mess later on. As always. And Arthur will probably delight in making Merlin do it - a boring, mindless task, just the kind of thing Arthur enjoys throwing at Merlin. Those near-punishments certainly did increase since Merlin’s return.
Near-punishments.
If Merlin leans slightly to the side, he can actually make out Arthur’s profile. Arthur’s eyes are closed, back resting against the side of the tub with what is, for once, a peaceful expression on his face. He’s submerged in the water up to his collarbone, glinting temptingly where candlelight reflects off his skin. Merlin takes an unconscious step closer, another one, and Arthur’s eyes open at the sound of movement.
It’s silent for a short moment.
“I don’t remember calling for you,” Arthur says evenly.
“Yes. I mean, no.” Merlin stays right where he is. A drop of water is clinging to Arthur’s chin, about to fall.
“Well. Since you’re here already…” Arthur waves his hand at one of the buckets Merlin used to carry the water up to Arthur’s chambers. “Fetch me some more hot water. My bath is getting cold.”
Merlin nods and doesn’t move.
“Are you having an epiphany?” Arthur’s tone is that cross between long-suffering and distantly amused he’s been using around Merlin a lot recently. “Or did you simply not understand my order? Surely it wasn’t that complicated, even by your standards.”
“Were you scared?” Merlin asks.
“Excuse me?” Arthur raises a brow. “Scared of what? When?”
“While I was gone,” Merlin says. He puts a hesitant hand on the doorframe to the bathroom, the wood solid and warm under his palm. In the flickering candlelight, Arthur’s features are hard to read, but it’s not as if he’s an open book to Merlin at the best of times. “Or, I don’t know. Maybe not scared, but… Did you think I’d left, just like that? Are you mad at me?”
“Mad? Why would I be mad?” Water splashes onto the floor as Arthur sits up. His hands are sharp-knuckled where he’s gripping the edge of the tub, and for all that his tone is incredulous, his jaw is set tight. “My service was certainly never more efficient than during your absence.”
Merlin takes another step forward. His balance feels slightly off, and any moment now, Arthur might decide he’s had enough and shatter the tentative explanation Merlin’s come up with for Arthur’s behaviour. Then again, it’s not often Merlin has Arthur in a position like this - sitting while Merlin is standing, looking up while Merlin is looking down, fully naked while Merlin is dressed. It gives Merlin the courage to say, “You missed me.” It sounds like a question.
Arthur stills for a barely existent instant. Then he huffs out a sharp laugh. “I certainly never said that.”
“You thought I’d run off just like that, and you missed me.” Merlin doesn’t like that he still sounds uncertain, but Arthur might have a point about Merlin being rather bad at pretending. Then again, Arthur hasn’t caught up with Merlin’s rather non-platonic-And Merlin isn’t thinking about that because thinking about that is limited to when he’s alone in his room.
“I did not miss you.” Arthur’s eyes are narrowed in warning. “Don’t flatter yourself, Merlin. Why would I care about my manservant simply disappearing, after a conversation that only in hindsight sounds like he was saying goodbye?” A short pause follows the question. “It is certainly none of my concern, as long as my bed is made and my clothes are clean.”
“You’re an arse,” Merlin says.
“A what?” More water splashes over the rim.
“An arse,” Merlin repeats. He clears his throat and lifts his head. “Also, you missed me.”
Without warning, Arthur gets to his feet. Water rushes down his body in a magnificent slide, dripping onto the floor, the reflections of candlelight drawing attention to the subtle play of muscles and skin. If Merlin ever, even for just a moment, thought that Arthur’s nakedness might put Merlin at advantage, he was wrong, so very, fatally wrong. It’s clearly Arthur who’s about to win this particular battle, just as he always does, because right now, Merlin finds it hard to make sense of what Arthur’s saying. “I did not miss you. After all, why would I miss someone who doesn’t even bother telling me when and why he’s leaving? Or where he’s been?”
Merlin swallows dryly. “I… Maybe some day.”
“See?” Arthur’s voice rises on the word. He steps out of the bathtub onto the already wet floor, holding himself proud and straight. Merlin cannot possibly look away, even though they are too close and propriety demands he avert his eyes. “See?” Arthur repeats. He takes another step closer. “Tell me, Merlin, why should I care if I can’t even trust you?”
“I don’t know,” Merlin says. It’s a stupid thing to say, his tone about as helpless as he feels, and it’s also not true. “I mean, you can trust me. I’m not-You know you can trust me.”
“Oh, do I? Funny, that.” They’re so close now that Arthur’s words are warm gusts of breath on Merlin’s face, Arthur’s expression still furious, his tone cutting. “Because with the way you’ve been acting, running away while I was still recovering, dropping vague hints, and then when you returned you looked like death warmed over, now that?” Arthur crosses his arms, shaking his head. He appears to have lost some of his momentum though, finishing with a lame, “That doesn’t make me want to trust you.”
Merlin pulls his attention away from a droplet of water that’s sliding down Arthur’s chest. It’s not an easy feat. “You do trust me, though.”
“I never said that.”
“But you do,” Merlin says. It doesn’t come out as a question, and for once, he refuses to be the first to break eye contact.
Arthur uncrosses his arms, his laugh incredulous and not quite convincing. “I do not know where you get those ridiculous notions from, but-” But. With Arthur, there’s always a but, so Merlin does the only thing he can think of to cut Arthur’s protest short: He kisses him. For just one moment, it’s all gloriously wet skin under Merlin’s hands, warm lips pressed to his, a suggestion of beard stubble rough on his chin, and oh, yes, Merlin pleaseneverwantstostop. Except-Except this is Arthur, and Arthur’s stunned surprise is quite possibly, very likely the only thing that has kept Merlin from facing a painful rebuttal so far.
Merlin tears his mouth away and takes a stumbling step back. “Sorry, sorry.” He doesn’t dare to look at Arthur.
Arthur’s reply takes a moment. When it comes, there is no trace of the furious disgust Merlin expected. “What are you sorry for this time?”
“I shouldn’t have,” Merlin begins, then starts anew. “I mean, I didn’t mean to-It wasn’t my place.”
“Since when do you care about matters of status?” Arthur sounds amused, but what’s more, he sounds faintly breathless, an edge of uncertainty to his voice.
“I don’t, I just. Fair warning?” Merlin lifts one shoulder, lowers it again and allows himself a momentary glance at Arthur - Arthur, who’s still naked and seems unaware of it, his posture unconcerned, watching Merlin with a gleam of speculation in his eyes that wasn’t there before.
“Fair warning,” Arthur repeats slowly, as if to himself. Then he grins sharply. “What do you consider a fair warning, then? This?” He closes the gap between their bodies with a deliberate step, naked skin pressing to the rough linen of Merlin’s cloth, and, oh. “Or this?” Arthur continues, raising a hand to tangle his fingers in Merlin’s hair, tugging him forward a little.
“I…” Merlin clears his throat, his eyes probably wide and scared. “Yeah.”
“Good,” Arthur says, and it’s utterly impossible; Arthur wanting to kiss Merlin is just so far out of the question that it would be ridiculous to expect it because this is Merlin’s life and things like that just don’t happen to him. They don’t, and yet Arthur is leaning in, his breath damp on Merlin’s chin, and…
Merlin closes his eyes.
He tilts his head slightly, Arthur’s nose brushing against his, and Merlin is still waiting for the turning point, the moment when Arthur will laugh and step back and say, No, really, Merlin, you didn’t think anything was going to happen, did you? Oh, I’m so sorry to have messed with your head. Only that moment never actually comes. Instead, Arthur’s lips slide over Merlin’s, gently, almost testing, and when Merlin’s only reaction consists of a quick intake of breath, Arthur seems to read this as acquiescence. He presses their mouths together, fingers tightening in Merlin’s hair, and all Merlin can do is cling to him so as not to lose his balance.
He’s maybe still kind of a little waiting for Arthur to push him away, but there’s all this beautifully naked skin pressed to his front, and nothing is stopping Merlin from running his hand down Arthur’s back, count the bumps of Arthur’s spine, and this, everything about this is utterly inappropriate and Merlin doesn’t care even one bit. If the hardness pressing into Merlin’s hip is any indication, Arthur doesn’t care either and maybe, maybe he will not step back, at least not going by his low groan that is nearly lost between their mouths.
“What?” Merlin manages.
Arthur pulls back just enough to say, “You are not allowed to leave, ever,” before he moves back in, pushing his tongue into Merlin’s mouth as if making a point, staking a claim. Even if Merlin wanted to resist, he’s sure that his muscles wouldn’t obey a single one of his commands. So all he does is nod, and Arthur must feel it because his grip on Merlin’s hair loosens, turns into something that is very, very close to a caress. His hand slides from Merlin’s hair down to his throat. Merlin gasps and turns his head slightly to suck in a breath, feeling Arthur’s body shift under the palms of his hands.
“I still want to know where you went,” Arthur warns. The impact is somewhat weakened by the urgent work of his fingers on the lacings of Merlin’s shirt. Merlin silences him with another kiss, running his tongue along the seam of Arthur’s mouth, and some day, he thinks.
Some day.
===.finis.===
I apologise for any mistakes that might remain; since it was so short and really just a self-indulgent way to amuse myself, I didn’t want to inflict it on a beta. Feel free to point out anything you might notice!