[Fic] Home For Christmas - for rotrude
Title: Home For Christmas
Author: Anonymous
Recipient: rotrude
Rating: PG
Character(s)/Pairing(s): Arthur/Merlin, Hunith, Will
Word Count: 2836
Summary: Where plans are made and re-made, fights are started and avoided, and feelings are revealed.
Warning(s):
Notes: This made me a bit nervous, because I am such a huge fan of yours, rotrude. You've written some of my favourite stories; I just hope you enjoy this one!
Disclaimer: This is a work of fanfiction - none of this ever happened. No copyright infringement is intended. No profit is made from this work. Please observe your local laws with regards to the age-limit and content of this work.
It had been Arthur's idea to go away for Christmas, this year. Uther had let him know, via company email, that he would be out of the country until the New Year; Morgana was planning a romantic weekend holiday with her newest boy toy/pet project and - oddly enough - Morgause; and Merlin had seemed hesitant to head back to Ealdor for the holidays, muttering something about his ex and his mum's cooking. So, an exotic holiday with his best friend sounded, to Arthur, like a brilliant idea.
Morgana had been the first to protest, though she was the second to hear, right after Uther. "You aren't even decorating your flat!" Her voice had sounded accusatory, almost hurt, down the phone line. Arthur couldn't understand why she was so upset - she wouldn't be in the country, either! When he told her this, however, her response had sounded like a cross between a frustrated growl and a lonely whimper. He'd hung up twenty minutes later feeling no more enlightened as to why she was taking it so personally, and a good deal more guilty.
Gwen had arched her eyebrows when he asked her to dig out the number to that travel agent they'd used to book the trip for the board last summer. She'd radiated a quiet disapproval when he told her his plan, but she had been his assistant for years, and she was very good at her job, so she found the number promptly and left it set beside his morning tea with a note that she and Lance would miss him at their annual Christmas dinner. Arthur felt a not-so-small pang of guilt when he realised he'd forgotten entirely.
Merlin had been slow to warm to the idea, as well, though within a week, he was sending Arthur emails and texts with photos of glaciers and proposed hiking itineraries, until Arthur had to point out they were going in December, and wouldn't somewhere with sunlight at some point during the day be preferable? The suggestions changed after that, listing tropical locales in South America and Australia, Fiji and Africa. ("Africa, Merlin? Seriously?" "I've always wanted to go!") It went on until Arthur wondered at Merlin's previously-undisclosed enthusiasm for hiking. (When Merlin began sending links to hostels and tips for eco-friendly travel alternatives, though, Arthur put his foot down, stating emphatically that he would not spend his holiday sharing a bathroom with a half dozen strangers and a colony of cockroaches.)
Their travel agent - a wizened old man called Drake who spoke in riddles and seemed to count the day well spent if he left Arthur and/or Merlin scratching their heads - took on all of the suggestions, from both Merlin and Arthur, who had not been entirely idle in that area, with the same half-distracted air, as though he were simply humouring the two men, or waiting for them to catch on to some fact of which only he was aware.
*
It was a week before they were scheduled to leave when it all went to hell. Arthur knew that Merlin had been getting phone calls from Ealdor: one from his mother, after he let her know of their plans, and more than one from Will, the ex Merlin had hoped to avoid. He watched as Merlin's enthusiasm wavered with each progressive phone call, until the night, five days before their flight to the south Pacific, Merlin texted Arthur that he was on his way home, to Ealdor, to deal with a family emergency.
Arthur was in his car, half way to Ealdor, before he thought to let anyone know where he was going.
*
Ealdor was much as Arthur remembered from his one previous visit: a collection of shops and houses clustered together in odd clumps on side streets that all branched out from the High Street, with a large green park set almost directly in the centre of it all, where, Merlin had told him, he'd spent much of his childhood with Will, plotting against their crankier neighbours.
The town was idyllic in summer, when the trees and flowers and grass all exploded across the senses with the scent and sights of Nature, but now, with the generous dusting of snow reflecting the moonlight back in a serene blue glow, entering the town felt like stepping into a greeting card. Arthur slowed his car, instinctively, with a ridiculous pang of guilt at the thought of the dirt and grime his tires smeared across the streets.
Try as he might, Arthur couldn't remember the directions to Hunith's house, so he pulled to a stop in front of the merrily decorated inn - Ealdor's only overnight accomodation.
The woman at the front desk reminded Arthur of every picture and cartoon of Mrs. Claus he remembered from his childhood. She had rosy cheeks, white hair braided down her back, and sparkling blue eyes. She didn't seem bothered by the late hour - half past midnight, Arthur winced to note - despite being clad in a fluffy robe and slippers, obviously pulled from her bed to check in a stranger who had no family in the area, and no luggage, chasing after his friend and hoping to take him back to the city. (Judging by the grandmotherly pat on the cheek 'Mrs. Claus' left him with, Arthur supposed he made a pretty pathetic picture.)
The room she led him to was as homey and warm as the rest of the inn, the quilt on the bed looking well cared for, if borderline antique. There was a lamp on the bedside table, casting the room in a soft gold glow, emphasising the quaint country inn, and as far from the modern décor of Arthur's flat as possible. All of this served to underline, to Arthur, just how rash his reaction to Merlin's hasty text might have been. He should have called, found out what was going on. If it were a medical emergency, Arthur realised, Ealdor didn't even have a proper hospital, so there was a good chance that Merlin and Hunith would be in Aescitir, the larger town twenty miles to the east, at the medical centre there.
Merlin's family were the only ones in Ealdor that Arthur knew, and he didn't even have Hunith's phone number, or address. A glance at his phone showed a dead battery, anyway, and Arthur dropped it on the table by the door with a groan. So, here he was: no clothes, no phone charger, thus no phone, in a town he had been to once before, and then only for an afternoon, to help Merlin pack up the remainder of his things from his mother's house.
"Well," he said aloud, dropping onto the bed, "now what?"
*
His search for the Emryses the next day proved shockingly fruitless. 'Mrs. Claus' - whose name, as it happened, was actually Mrs. Wetherby ("Please, dear, call me Liza!") - was unaware of a family by that name in Ealdor, but then, Mrs. Wetherby was largely unaware of the world outside her inn and garden, it seemed to Arthur.
The grocer, an old man named Simmons, obviously recognised the name, but refused to give Arthur any information beyond what a menace Merlin had been, as a child. (Arthur assumed this was one of the crankier neighbours Merlin and Will had pranked.)
The young woman at the bookstore, Freya, was new to town, having moved there to take over her Uncle Gill's shop after a second stroke put the old man in a home three months prior and didn't know many people outside her clientele, yet. (Arthur actually spent a good hour and a half in the bookstore, browsing the selection of used books and chatting with Freya over coffee and the seasonal baked treats that some of Freya's older customers seemed to think she would starve without.)
The woman at the department store where he purchased a change of clothes did know Hunith, from her volunteer work in town, and was quite happy to tell Arthur all about the bake sale Hunith had helped organise for the children's holiday pageant, after the school cut the funding. When he asked for her address, or phone number, however, the woman's eyes narrowed slightly and she hemmed and hawed until Arthur finally settled for asking her to pass the message along that he was in town, if the woman happened to see Hunith, or Merlin.
He returned to the inn early in the evening, feeling exhausted and filled to bursting with the sampling of Ealdor's best baked goods that Freya had provided him with. He noticed the excess of coats hung beside the door, but it wasn't until he was halfway to the stairs that he saw through the open door to the parlour and remembered that Mrs. Wetherby's 'girls' were meant to be over for supper. They, evidently, had been more aware of his presence, Arthur reasoned as he suddenly became the centre of attention of a room of women his father's age.
"Arthur!" Mrs. Wetherby still reminded Arthur strongly of Mrs. Claus, in her bright red cardigan and white apron, as she emerged from the kitchen with a tray of tea. "Come in, join us! Lois was just telling us about her newest grandchild..."
Arthur gritted his teeth around a smile as Mrs. Wetherby pressed a cup of tea on him.
*
Arthur's luck changed the next day, just after lunch, when Hunith Emrys found him at Freya's bookstore.
"Arthur, what a surprise!" She pressed a kiss to his cheek, as though he were a second son, rather than a friend of her only son, one whom she'd only met once.
"Hunith," Arthur was, frankly, shocked, having almost convinced himself that a medical emergency was the most likely cause of Merlin's urgent flight to Ealdor. "Are - are you alright? Gaius - I mean, everything is okay; everyone's well?"
Hunith pulled back with a confused frown. "Yes, we're all well. Gaius is still in Camelot, isn't he? The last time I spoke with him, he was still working for your father... Has that changed?"
Arthur could see the alarmed light in her eyes, and he hurried to reassure her, "No, no! Gaius is. He's still working with Father, yes. I just," he stopped again, hand rubbing the back of his neck, "Merlin said there was an emergency, with the family."
Hunith's alarm changed to confusion.
"Arthur, why don't you join me for tea?"
*
Arthur returned to his room an hour later, on autopilot. He blinked hard as his mind replayed his conversation with Hunith. There was no family emergency; Hunith hadn't called Merlin home. He was home, but it had been a surprise to Hunith, as well.
Merlin had left Camelot; Merlin had left Arthur in Camelot, with a lie. Well. There it was.
Arthur threw his clothes - the clothes he'd worn to Ealdor, into a bag and left the room. His plane was leaving in less than three days, and he still needed to pack.
***
Merlin had been as surprised as Hunith when she opened the door while he was still fumbling with the sticky deadbolt.
"Mother," he blinked, feeling his eyes widen as Hunith's did.
"Merlin!" Her greeting was considerably more enthused, and she pulled him into her arms. "Why didn't you tell me you'd changed your mind!"
"I," he paused, thinking, "It was a last minute decision. Surprise!"
He let her pull him in, press tea and pie on him, and resigned himself to an hour, at least, of catching up before he could call Will back.
*
Will wasn't quite squirming where he sat in Hunith's living room, but Merlin was sure that, had it been anyone else, they would have. Hunith's stare had that affect on people, and Will was receiving the full brunt of that stare.
"William."
It was scary, Merlin reflected, that his mother could still do that. He couldn't remember ever hearing her raise her voice. Instead, she would just say his name, in that tone, and he found himself confessing to everything. It still worked on him, even long distance, and it apparently still worked on Will, as well.
"You shouldn't have left!" Will directed his tirade at Merlin, but it was one he'd heard before. Merlin rolled his eyes and tried Arthur's phone again. Hunith rose and patted Merlin's shoulder as she walked to the kitchen.
"No, Merlin," Will insisted, "I mean it. You never would have done this, before you went to Camelot. Before you started hanging around with Arthur."
"Will..."
"I was there when you told Hunith you weren't coming home for Christmas, Merlin, do you know how upset she was?" Merlin bit his lip, looked away. "Christmas is for family, Merlin. You used to understand that. The only reason you want to go traipsing off around the world is because of him! And you don't get it, Merlin, you just keep traipsing after that rich boy, but you don't seem to get it! Merlin, HE DOESN'T LOVE YOU!"
The silence that followed Will's outburst was deafening. Merlin froze, stared. Will's face was red, his eyes wide and wild.
"Will," Merlin forced himself to be calm, "Will, I'm not coming back to Ealdor. That has nothing to do with Arthur or with -" his voice broke "- or with my feelings for him. I can't go anywhere here; I wasn't moving forward."
"That's not -"
"Will, I can't talk to you about this. That hasn't changed. We weren't going anywhere, so I made a decision to move forward for myself. And that was in Camelot. Arthur is my friend, and that's plenty enough, for me." Will just stared, quiet at last, and Merlin sighed, exhausted. "Look," Merlin said, "I need to go track down Arthur, since he's apparently here in Ealdor, since he followed me, being the concerned friend he is. We can talk about all of the rest of this later. After the new year, maybe."
Merlin turned to the door, grabbing his jacket on his way past, along with the keys from his mother's purse.
"Mum, I'm borrowing your car!"
*
Merlin had never been a particularly good driver. That, combined with the icy roads, made for a disastrous trip to the inn. It was only his luck - and a touch of magic - that kept him from wrapping his mother's car around a tree.
All of which Arthur pointed out, sounding stunned, when Merlin screeched to a halt behind his car as he was pulling out.
"Thank god I caught you!" Merlin almost fell on the ice and grabbed Arthur's sleeve to catch himself with a grin. Arthur carried on looking stunned for a heartbeat, then recovered, clearing his throat.
"If you didn't want to go," his voice was stiff after Merlin was finally steady on his own feet again, "you could have just said."
Merlin had grown used to reading Arthur's expressions by now, though he thought the insecurity behind his eyes would have been glaringly obvious to anyone.
"Arthur, I did want to go. Will started kicking up a fuss, yeah, but I was actually looking forward to it."
"Merlin, you said there was a family emergency, and that was it," Arthur ran his hand through his hair, "I talked to your mother, and -"
"It was Will," Merlin cut in, "Will said there was an emergency, but he made it up. He was mad that I was planning on going away for Christmas, with... you..."
Arthur's cheeks coloured, and Merlin could feel his own face redden and cleared his throat.
"Could, uhm, could we go inside, talk there?"
Arthur cleared his throat, rubbed his hair again, and nodded. He turned without a word and led the way back into the inn.
***
They ended up in Mrs. Wetherby's parlour, watching the lights on the tree flicker in silence. Merlin was on the couch, Arthur in the arm chair. In total silence.
"So," Arthur finally spoke, dredging up some scrap of his usual smugness, "Will was jealous... That you were going away...? Or that you were going with me?"
Watching Merlin's face colour again made Arthur smile and move to the couch.
"Why was he jealous, Merlin?" Arthur's voice softened, and he leaned in a bit.
"Probably because," if Merlin's face got any redder, Arthur would worry that he was going to pass out, "Probably because he knows... that I... mightlikeyoualittlebit."
"Merlin," Arthur bit his lip, slid closer to his friend. He cupped Merlin's cheek in his palm and turned the younger man's face to his.
"Arthur, look," Merlin licked his lips, "I'm sorry about the -"
"Merlin, you should really shut up now."
Arthur closed the distance to seal his mouth over Merlin's, pressing in warm and gentle, flicking his tongue over that full lower lip before pulling back, watching for Merlin's response.
What he got was a small smile before Merlin moved forward again, opening his mouth to nip into Arthur's. "Maybe," Merlin said softly, "we should go back to your room now."
Arthur couldn't do anything but agree.
end.
Author: Anonymous
Recipient: rotrude
Rating: PG
Character(s)/Pairing(s): Arthur/Merlin, Hunith, Will
Word Count: 2836
Summary: Where plans are made and re-made, fights are started and avoided, and feelings are revealed.
Warning(s):
Notes: This made me a bit nervous, because I am such a huge fan of yours, rotrude. You've written some of my favourite stories; I just hope you enjoy this one!
Disclaimer: This is a work of fanfiction - none of this ever happened. No copyright infringement is intended. No profit is made from this work. Please observe your local laws with regards to the age-limit and content of this work.
It had been Arthur's idea to go away for Christmas, this year. Uther had let him know, via company email, that he would be out of the country until the New Year; Morgana was planning a romantic weekend holiday with her newest boy toy/pet project and - oddly enough - Morgause; and Merlin had seemed hesitant to head back to Ealdor for the holidays, muttering something about his ex and his mum's cooking. So, an exotic holiday with his best friend sounded, to Arthur, like a brilliant idea.
Morgana had been the first to protest, though she was the second to hear, right after Uther. "You aren't even decorating your flat!" Her voice had sounded accusatory, almost hurt, down the phone line. Arthur couldn't understand why she was so upset - she wouldn't be in the country, either! When he told her this, however, her response had sounded like a cross between a frustrated growl and a lonely whimper. He'd hung up twenty minutes later feeling no more enlightened as to why she was taking it so personally, and a good deal more guilty.
Gwen had arched her eyebrows when he asked her to dig out the number to that travel agent they'd used to book the trip for the board last summer. She'd radiated a quiet disapproval when he told her his plan, but she had been his assistant for years, and she was very good at her job, so she found the number promptly and left it set beside his morning tea with a note that she and Lance would miss him at their annual Christmas dinner. Arthur felt a not-so-small pang of guilt when he realised he'd forgotten entirely.
Merlin had been slow to warm to the idea, as well, though within a week, he was sending Arthur emails and texts with photos of glaciers and proposed hiking itineraries, until Arthur had to point out they were going in December, and wouldn't somewhere with sunlight at some point during the day be preferable? The suggestions changed after that, listing tropical locales in South America and Australia, Fiji and Africa. ("Africa, Merlin? Seriously?" "I've always wanted to go!") It went on until Arthur wondered at Merlin's previously-undisclosed enthusiasm for hiking. (When Merlin began sending links to hostels and tips for eco-friendly travel alternatives, though, Arthur put his foot down, stating emphatically that he would not spend his holiday sharing a bathroom with a half dozen strangers and a colony of cockroaches.)
Their travel agent - a wizened old man called Drake who spoke in riddles and seemed to count the day well spent if he left Arthur and/or Merlin scratching their heads - took on all of the suggestions, from both Merlin and Arthur, who had not been entirely idle in that area, with the same half-distracted air, as though he were simply humouring the two men, or waiting for them to catch on to some fact of which only he was aware.
*
It was a week before they were scheduled to leave when it all went to hell. Arthur knew that Merlin had been getting phone calls from Ealdor: one from his mother, after he let her know of their plans, and more than one from Will, the ex Merlin had hoped to avoid. He watched as Merlin's enthusiasm wavered with each progressive phone call, until the night, five days before their flight to the south Pacific, Merlin texted Arthur that he was on his way home, to Ealdor, to deal with a family emergency.
Arthur was in his car, half way to Ealdor, before he thought to let anyone know where he was going.
*
Ealdor was much as Arthur remembered from his one previous visit: a collection of shops and houses clustered together in odd clumps on side streets that all branched out from the High Street, with a large green park set almost directly in the centre of it all, where, Merlin had told him, he'd spent much of his childhood with Will, plotting against their crankier neighbours.
The town was idyllic in summer, when the trees and flowers and grass all exploded across the senses with the scent and sights of Nature, but now, with the generous dusting of snow reflecting the moonlight back in a serene blue glow, entering the town felt like stepping into a greeting card. Arthur slowed his car, instinctively, with a ridiculous pang of guilt at the thought of the dirt and grime his tires smeared across the streets.
Try as he might, Arthur couldn't remember the directions to Hunith's house, so he pulled to a stop in front of the merrily decorated inn - Ealdor's only overnight accomodation.
The woman at the front desk reminded Arthur of every picture and cartoon of Mrs. Claus he remembered from his childhood. She had rosy cheeks, white hair braided down her back, and sparkling blue eyes. She didn't seem bothered by the late hour - half past midnight, Arthur winced to note - despite being clad in a fluffy robe and slippers, obviously pulled from her bed to check in a stranger who had no family in the area, and no luggage, chasing after his friend and hoping to take him back to the city. (Judging by the grandmotherly pat on the cheek 'Mrs. Claus' left him with, Arthur supposed he made a pretty pathetic picture.)
The room she led him to was as homey and warm as the rest of the inn, the quilt on the bed looking well cared for, if borderline antique. There was a lamp on the bedside table, casting the room in a soft gold glow, emphasising the quaint country inn, and as far from the modern décor of Arthur's flat as possible. All of this served to underline, to Arthur, just how rash his reaction to Merlin's hasty text might have been. He should have called, found out what was going on. If it were a medical emergency, Arthur realised, Ealdor didn't even have a proper hospital, so there was a good chance that Merlin and Hunith would be in Aescitir, the larger town twenty miles to the east, at the medical centre there.
Merlin's family were the only ones in Ealdor that Arthur knew, and he didn't even have Hunith's phone number, or address. A glance at his phone showed a dead battery, anyway, and Arthur dropped it on the table by the door with a groan. So, here he was: no clothes, no phone charger, thus no phone, in a town he had been to once before, and then only for an afternoon, to help Merlin pack up the remainder of his things from his mother's house.
"Well," he said aloud, dropping onto the bed, "now what?"
*
His search for the Emryses the next day proved shockingly fruitless. 'Mrs. Claus' - whose name, as it happened, was actually Mrs. Wetherby ("Please, dear, call me Liza!") - was unaware of a family by that name in Ealdor, but then, Mrs. Wetherby was largely unaware of the world outside her inn and garden, it seemed to Arthur.
The grocer, an old man named Simmons, obviously recognised the name, but refused to give Arthur any information beyond what a menace Merlin had been, as a child. (Arthur assumed this was one of the crankier neighbours Merlin and Will had pranked.)
The young woman at the bookstore, Freya, was new to town, having moved there to take over her Uncle Gill's shop after a second stroke put the old man in a home three months prior and didn't know many people outside her clientele, yet. (Arthur actually spent a good hour and a half in the bookstore, browsing the selection of used books and chatting with Freya over coffee and the seasonal baked treats that some of Freya's older customers seemed to think she would starve without.)
The woman at the department store where he purchased a change of clothes did know Hunith, from her volunteer work in town, and was quite happy to tell Arthur all about the bake sale Hunith had helped organise for the children's holiday pageant, after the school cut the funding. When he asked for her address, or phone number, however, the woman's eyes narrowed slightly and she hemmed and hawed until Arthur finally settled for asking her to pass the message along that he was in town, if the woman happened to see Hunith, or Merlin.
He returned to the inn early in the evening, feeling exhausted and filled to bursting with the sampling of Ealdor's best baked goods that Freya had provided him with. He noticed the excess of coats hung beside the door, but it wasn't until he was halfway to the stairs that he saw through the open door to the parlour and remembered that Mrs. Wetherby's 'girls' were meant to be over for supper. They, evidently, had been more aware of his presence, Arthur reasoned as he suddenly became the centre of attention of a room of women his father's age.
"Arthur!" Mrs. Wetherby still reminded Arthur strongly of Mrs. Claus, in her bright red cardigan and white apron, as she emerged from the kitchen with a tray of tea. "Come in, join us! Lois was just telling us about her newest grandchild..."
Arthur gritted his teeth around a smile as Mrs. Wetherby pressed a cup of tea on him.
*
Arthur's luck changed the next day, just after lunch, when Hunith Emrys found him at Freya's bookstore.
"Arthur, what a surprise!" She pressed a kiss to his cheek, as though he were a second son, rather than a friend of her only son, one whom she'd only met once.
"Hunith," Arthur was, frankly, shocked, having almost convinced himself that a medical emergency was the most likely cause of Merlin's urgent flight to Ealdor. "Are - are you alright? Gaius - I mean, everything is okay; everyone's well?"
Hunith pulled back with a confused frown. "Yes, we're all well. Gaius is still in Camelot, isn't he? The last time I spoke with him, he was still working for your father... Has that changed?"
Arthur could see the alarmed light in her eyes, and he hurried to reassure her, "No, no! Gaius is. He's still working with Father, yes. I just," he stopped again, hand rubbing the back of his neck, "Merlin said there was an emergency, with the family."
Hunith's alarm changed to confusion.
"Arthur, why don't you join me for tea?"
*
Arthur returned to his room an hour later, on autopilot. He blinked hard as his mind replayed his conversation with Hunith. There was no family emergency; Hunith hadn't called Merlin home. He was home, but it had been a surprise to Hunith, as well.
Merlin had left Camelot; Merlin had left Arthur in Camelot, with a lie. Well. There it was.
Arthur threw his clothes - the clothes he'd worn to Ealdor, into a bag and left the room. His plane was leaving in less than three days, and he still needed to pack.
***
Merlin had been as surprised as Hunith when she opened the door while he was still fumbling with the sticky deadbolt.
"Mother," he blinked, feeling his eyes widen as Hunith's did.
"Merlin!" Her greeting was considerably more enthused, and she pulled him into her arms. "Why didn't you tell me you'd changed your mind!"
"I," he paused, thinking, "It was a last minute decision. Surprise!"
He let her pull him in, press tea and pie on him, and resigned himself to an hour, at least, of catching up before he could call Will back.
*
Will wasn't quite squirming where he sat in Hunith's living room, but Merlin was sure that, had it been anyone else, they would have. Hunith's stare had that affect on people, and Will was receiving the full brunt of that stare.
"William."
It was scary, Merlin reflected, that his mother could still do that. He couldn't remember ever hearing her raise her voice. Instead, she would just say his name, in that tone, and he found himself confessing to everything. It still worked on him, even long distance, and it apparently still worked on Will, as well.
"You shouldn't have left!" Will directed his tirade at Merlin, but it was one he'd heard before. Merlin rolled his eyes and tried Arthur's phone again. Hunith rose and patted Merlin's shoulder as she walked to the kitchen.
"No, Merlin," Will insisted, "I mean it. You never would have done this, before you went to Camelot. Before you started hanging around with Arthur."
"Will..."
"I was there when you told Hunith you weren't coming home for Christmas, Merlin, do you know how upset she was?" Merlin bit his lip, looked away. "Christmas is for family, Merlin. You used to understand that. The only reason you want to go traipsing off around the world is because of him! And you don't get it, Merlin, you just keep traipsing after that rich boy, but you don't seem to get it! Merlin, HE DOESN'T LOVE YOU!"
The silence that followed Will's outburst was deafening. Merlin froze, stared. Will's face was red, his eyes wide and wild.
"Will," Merlin forced himself to be calm, "Will, I'm not coming back to Ealdor. That has nothing to do with Arthur or with -" his voice broke "- or with my feelings for him. I can't go anywhere here; I wasn't moving forward."
"That's not -"
"Will, I can't talk to you about this. That hasn't changed. We weren't going anywhere, so I made a decision to move forward for myself. And that was in Camelot. Arthur is my friend, and that's plenty enough, for me." Will just stared, quiet at last, and Merlin sighed, exhausted. "Look," Merlin said, "I need to go track down Arthur, since he's apparently here in Ealdor, since he followed me, being the concerned friend he is. We can talk about all of the rest of this later. After the new year, maybe."
Merlin turned to the door, grabbing his jacket on his way past, along with the keys from his mother's purse.
"Mum, I'm borrowing your car!"
*
Merlin had never been a particularly good driver. That, combined with the icy roads, made for a disastrous trip to the inn. It was only his luck - and a touch of magic - that kept him from wrapping his mother's car around a tree.
All of which Arthur pointed out, sounding stunned, when Merlin screeched to a halt behind his car as he was pulling out.
"Thank god I caught you!" Merlin almost fell on the ice and grabbed Arthur's sleeve to catch himself with a grin. Arthur carried on looking stunned for a heartbeat, then recovered, clearing his throat.
"If you didn't want to go," his voice was stiff after Merlin was finally steady on his own feet again, "you could have just said."
Merlin had grown used to reading Arthur's expressions by now, though he thought the insecurity behind his eyes would have been glaringly obvious to anyone.
"Arthur, I did want to go. Will started kicking up a fuss, yeah, but I was actually looking forward to it."
"Merlin, you said there was a family emergency, and that was it," Arthur ran his hand through his hair, "I talked to your mother, and -"
"It was Will," Merlin cut in, "Will said there was an emergency, but he made it up. He was mad that I was planning on going away for Christmas, with... you..."
Arthur's cheeks coloured, and Merlin could feel his own face redden and cleared his throat.
"Could, uhm, could we go inside, talk there?"
Arthur cleared his throat, rubbed his hair again, and nodded. He turned without a word and led the way back into the inn.
***
They ended up in Mrs. Wetherby's parlour, watching the lights on the tree flicker in silence. Merlin was on the couch, Arthur in the arm chair. In total silence.
"So," Arthur finally spoke, dredging up some scrap of his usual smugness, "Will was jealous... That you were going away...? Or that you were going with me?"
Watching Merlin's face colour again made Arthur smile and move to the couch.
"Why was he jealous, Merlin?" Arthur's voice softened, and he leaned in a bit.
"Probably because," if Merlin's face got any redder, Arthur would worry that he was going to pass out, "Probably because he knows... that I... mightlikeyoualittlebit."
"Merlin," Arthur bit his lip, slid closer to his friend. He cupped Merlin's cheek in his palm and turned the younger man's face to his.
"Arthur, look," Merlin licked his lips, "I'm sorry about the -"
"Merlin, you should really shut up now."
Arthur closed the distance to seal his mouth over Merlin's, pressing in warm and gentle, flicking his tongue over that full lower lip before pulling back, watching for Merlin's response.
What he got was a small smile before Merlin moved forward again, opening his mouth to nip into Arthur's. "Maybe," Merlin said softly, "we should go back to your room now."
Arthur couldn't do anything but agree.
end.