New Merlin Fic: The Common Touch
Oh, Jesus Christ. Here comes fandom number twelve.
This was supposed to be short. It's not. :)
The Common Touch (NC-17, c. 8300 words, Merlin/Arthur)
At my website
At the AO3
ETA: EEEEEE!!! Now with a gorgeous cover by nicci_mac!
A short excerpt:
“I'm hungry,” Arthur said.
Merlin pointed at a small tent a couple of dozen yards away. “There's a fellow selling sausages in a bun over there.”
Arthur frowned. “Selling.” He hadn't thought to bring any coins with him, perhaps because he'd never needed to bring any coins with him.
Merlin raised an eyebrow at him, then smirked and reached in his doublet for his purse.
“I'll pay you back,” Arthur said, feeling unaccountably ill at ease. It was odd to feel beholden to anyone, even for the price of a bloody sausage. He found he didn't like it much. “It's not as though I'm not good for it.”
Merlin shook his head, and suddenly he laid a hand on Arthur's arm, squeezing briefly before letting go. “Don't be silly,” he murmured. “I think I can afford to buy you lunch.” The smile was back, and this time it was open and honest and more unsettling than realizing he was penniless and five miles from home with nothing but his short knife to remind him of who he was.
Watching him for an interminable moment, Merlin finally turned away and headed toward the sausage vendor, and Arthur let out the breath he'd been holding.
Really, this was ridiculous. He could be a peasant for an afternoon, for Heaven's sake. How difficult could it be?
This was supposed to be short. It's not. :)
The Common Touch (NC-17, c. 8300 words, Merlin/Arthur)
At my website
At the AO3
ETA: EEEEEE!!! Now with a gorgeous cover by nicci_mac!
A short excerpt:
“I'm hungry,” Arthur said.
Merlin pointed at a small tent a couple of dozen yards away. “There's a fellow selling sausages in a bun over there.”
Arthur frowned. “Selling.” He hadn't thought to bring any coins with him, perhaps because he'd never needed to bring any coins with him.
Merlin raised an eyebrow at him, then smirked and reached in his doublet for his purse.
“I'll pay you back,” Arthur said, feeling unaccountably ill at ease. It was odd to feel beholden to anyone, even for the price of a bloody sausage. He found he didn't like it much. “It's not as though I'm not good for it.”
Merlin shook his head, and suddenly he laid a hand on Arthur's arm, squeezing briefly before letting go. “Don't be silly,” he murmured. “I think I can afford to buy you lunch.” The smile was back, and this time it was open and honest and more unsettling than realizing he was penniless and five miles from home with nothing but his short knife to remind him of who he was.
Watching him for an interminable moment, Merlin finally turned away and headed toward the sausage vendor, and Arthur let out the breath he'd been holding.
Really, this was ridiculous. He could be a peasant for an afternoon, for Heaven's sake. How difficult could it be?