Fic :: Merlin :: The Stumble and the Fall :: Part 1: The Stumble
Title: The Stumble and the Fall
Part 1/2: The Stumble
Fandom: Merlin
Pairing: Arthur/Merlin
Rating: PG (Part 2 will move into NC-17 territory)
Word Count: ~10,600
Notes: Set during the latter half of the 1st season
Summary: The infatuation is understandable. Arthur understands completely and quite honestly, he’s flattered. Merlin’s feelings are not the problem. The problem - the thing that Arthur can’t quite figure out - is why Merlin has begun spying on him.
Arthur has suspected for some time that Merlin admires him.
No, truthfully, Arthur knows that Merlin admires him, but it’s only recently that Arthur has started to suspect that that admiration may have begun to manifest itself as something of an infatuation. A romantic yearning.
Simply put, Merlin is smitten with him.
It was bound to happen. Merlin, after all, is Merlin. Arthur thinks it’s good - healthy, really - for Merlin to have role models. Role models other than old Gaius, who isn’t a bad role model by any means, he’s just nothing like any of the role models that Arthur has ever had. And if Merlin needs more role models, then modesty aside, Arthur thinks that he’s probably a pretty good choice.
The infatuation is understandable. Arthur would be lying if he said he’d never experienced similar feelings toward those he looked up to, to the knights who helped to train him, to the teachers who’d molded him. Arthur understands completely and quite honestly, he’s flattered.
Merlin’s feelings are not the problem.
The problem - the thing that Arthur can’t quite figure out - is why Merlin has begun spying on him. He’s pretending he hasn’t noticed, but of course he has. It isn’t as though Merlin is some master of stealth. Arthur has caught him numerous times, watching from around corners, from behind statues, and once from hidden within a shrub. It took all of Arthur’s self control not to end the game right there, the urge to mock Merlin was so great.
Arthur’s curious, though not bothered by it enough to put a stop to it. He’d ask, but he suspects the spy game is connected to Merlin’s infatuation, and though usually Arthur might jump at the chance to humiliate Merlin, in this case he’d rather tread a bit more carefully. Still, he can’t help but use it to make Merlin’s life just that much more difficult.
If Arthur happens to notice Merlin, he’ll abruptly change course and walk in that direction so that Merlin either has to scramble away or feign innocence, and frankly, Merlin has never been much of an actor. Sometimes if he’s within earshot, Arthur will discuss Merlin’s shortcomings loudly with his men (who of course are in on the entire thing. Merlin is really very bad at this whole stealth business), listing off the things that Merlin has failed to do in an exasperated and annoyed tone, slowly so that he can be sure that Merlin will hear every carefully articulated word.
It works. Merlin almost invariably begins doing the things that he hears Arthur complaining about, things that Arthur would never request of Merlin if not for the fun of seeing if he’ll actually follow through.
At first Arthur suspects that maybe Merlin just wishes to spend more time with him. Arthur doesn’t necessarily have an issue with that. Obviously he can’t have Merlin around when he is working, or investigating his father’s latest magical overreaction, but in general he doesn’t mind Merlin’s company much at all. So Arthur summons him.
“What is it that you need?” Merlin asks after standing around Arthur’s chambers in silence for ten minutes waiting for Arthur to direct him. If possible, Merlin seems even more antsy than usual.
Arthur doesn’t actually need anything, but they don’t really do this, just spend time together with no real purpose. Arthur looks around the room and tries to come up with something for Merlin to do.
“What?” Merlin asks again, impatience seeping into his tone.
Finally Arthur shrugs and says, “I just want you here in case I think of something that I’ll need you for. If you’re here already there will be no need to send for you. It saves time.”
Merlin is staring at him.
“Gwen is always with Morgana,” Arthur reasons. “It works well for them. You and I hardly seem to know each other when you compare.”
“I thought the current percentage of time we spent together worked,” Merlin says, and Arthur is just a tiny bit disappointed that he can’t find anything in Merlin’s voice to betray the fact that maybe Merlin does want to be spending more time with Arthur. Enough time that Merlin is willing to stalk Arthur just to be in his presence.
“It does,” Arthur concedes. “This is just a trial.”
“All right,’ Merlin nods. He looks around the room, unsure of what he should do with himself.
Eventually Arthur rolls his eyes and motions toward a chair. They sit in silence for a while, watching the fire crackle in the hearth.
“How long do you want me to stay?” Merlin asks, eventually.
Arthur tries to hold his tongue. He really does try, but Merlin is looking at him expectantly and this isn’t how he thought offering to spend time with Merlin would go, and so he throws up his hands, stands from his seat and leans across the table toward Merlin, pointing an accusatory finger at him.
“Fine, you know what? Never mind. You can go about doing whatever it is you do when you’re not here. It’s not like I care what you do.”
Merlin looks taken aback. He stares at Arthur in silence for a moment before rolling his eyes and settling back into his chair. “No,” he says. “No, I’ll stay. It’s fine.”
They lapse back into an uncomfortable silence. Arthur paces the room twice before coming back to stand at the table. Honestly, Arthur is starting to wish that Merlin had just agreed to leave. Instead Merlin stares down at the table so that Arthur can’t even see Merlin’s expression, just a dark mop of messy hair.
He’s still staring down at the top of Merlin’s head when Merlin asks, “Did something happen?”
“No,” Arthur snaps. Leave it to Merlin to turn it around so that Arthur is the problem.
“Are you going to sit back down?” Merlin asks.
Arthur, feeling suddenly stubborn says, “No.”
Merlin shrugs and resumes examining the wood of Arthur’s table.
The entire thing is ridiculous. They aren’t children. They’ve had civilized conversations before. There is no reason that this should be so awkward or so quiet. Arthur clears his throat and decides that maybe he just needs to make more of an effort. Merlin looks up at him, expectant.
“You really haven’t been around much,” Arthur observes, forcing all of the annoyance from his voice. It’s not true, obviously. Merlin has been around quite a lot if you count peeking out from behind pillars and market stalls as being around. “Are you working on some new research with Gaius?”
“Something like that,” Merlin agrees. “Yeah.” He refuses to directly meet Arthur’s gaze.
“He has you off in the woods picking nuts and berries, does he?”
Merlin just nods and taps his fingers against the table. Merlin is full of nervous ticks - bouncing his leg, pulling at buttons, tapping his utensils or his fingers against hard surfaces.
Arthur bites his tongue to stop himself from snapping at Merlin’s finger tapping. Instead he nods as well and pushes himself away from the table, walks around it to stand behind Merlin, then reaches out to rest his hands on Merlin’s shoulders. Merlin flinches. Arthur kneads Merlin’s bony shoulders a bit with his hands. He means it as a comforting massage of sorts, but he must be doing it wrong because Merlin’s shoulders hunch up and he looks like he might be in pain. Arthur stops kneading.
“I hope Gaius isn’t working you too hard.”
“It’s fine,” Merlin says. He smiles up at Arthur but it looks forced.
Arthur sighs. “Try to relax, Merlin. Just being around you lately has me on edge.”
“Sorry,” Merlin says, and he does seem to relax just a little, but not until Arthur removes his hand from Merlin’s shoulder.
**
There is clearly some reason that Merlin is following Arthur. The reason does not seem to be the infatuation that Merlin - though better at hiding it than Arthur expects - still rather obviously harbours. There is something else.
Arthur wracks his brain, trying to determine when it was that he first noticed Merlin lurking behind corners. By mid-morning he’s sure that this whole thing started shortly after Arthur was nearly taken out by a falling piece of masonry. He was conversing with Merlin about the art of archery directly outside the castle walls. Merlin, who can never seem to pay attention to anything for long, noticed the falling brick and pushed Arthur out of the way moments before the stone hit the ground exactly where Arthur had been standing.
They stayed as they were for a moment, a tangled pile of limbs in a cloud of dust, both breathing heavily and staring open-mouthed at the brick that probably weighed about as much as Merlin.
“Lucky you were there,” Arthur said, trying to keep his voice steady. After all, meeting his end while battling a Griffin was one thing. Death by falling rock would just be an embarrassment.
Later that same week, Arthur nearly fell down a staircase due to loose stone work on the top step.
“This castle is falling apart,” Arthur grumbled, shaking Merlin’s hands off of his arm. Merlin looked pale and Arthur rolled his eyes at the display of shock. What he really meant to say was ‘thank you’, but his heart was racing a little and the whole thing was a bit humiliating and the thanks were pushed aside for the moment.
It is three or four days later that Arthur first notices that he is being followed.
**
Arthur likes to think that he would have noticed just as quickly even if Morgana didn’t stop beside Arthur in a courtyard and say, “Why do you have Merlin hiding in the bushes?”
“What are you talking about?” Arthur asks, looking from Morgana to Gwen, who quickly looks away rather than meet Arthur’s eyes.
“Merlin. He’s over - “ Morgana starts and then seems to think it through and says, “You didn’t tell him to - “ and then stops, most likely not wanting to get Merlin in any kind of trouble. Sometimes Arthur thinks that Morgana is more loyal to Merlin than she is to him.
“Well, never mind,” Morgana says and changes the subject, tries to discuss some new decree of his father’s instead. Arthur nods and scans the yard, eventually spotting movement in the bushes along the eastern wall. That same afternoon he turns and sees Merlin stop abruptly at the other end of a long corridor, quickly sliding back into a corner along a wall where he is out of sight. Arthur stares for a moment and calls Merlin’s name, but there is no answer.
**
He spends an afternoon trying to connect what he knows: the infatuation, the events that result in Merlin turning stalker, their uncomfortable evening in Arthur’s quarters, and after finishing one mug of ale and starting on another, Arthur finally comes to a conclusion.
The pieces started to come together that morning when Arthur, preoccupied with working out the puzzle of Merlin’s behaviour, tripped over a rut in the road and stumbled. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Merlin start, ready to dash out from his hiding place behind a rickety old cart. Merlin’s hand was raised as though perhaps his arm was long enough to prevent Arthur’s fall even from that distance.
Arthur regained his balance and Merlin retreated, but not quickly enough, not before Arthur began to fit it all together and once he does, it’s so clear. Merlin is following Arthur hoping for another act of clumsiness on Arthur’s part. At first Arthur thinks that Merlin is just looking to increase the number of times that he’s saved Arthur. Maybe Merlin needs to ask a favour and is trying to butter Arthur up, use it as leverage.
Then Arthur remembers the rush of adrenalin that day outside the castle walls, their heavy breathing and tangled limbs as they stared at the place where the stone brick had landed, Arthur’s hand resting low on Merlin’s stomach so that he could feel each quick breath that Merlin took. Merlin isn’t looking for leverage. Merlin is looking for an excuse to touch Arthur without seeming obvious, without giving himself away. Merlin isn’t trying to save Arthur, he’s trying to grope Arthur. It isn’t merely Arthur’s presence that Merlin craves. Merlin needs physical contact.
Arthur smiles and looks up from his drink.
“What’s that look?” Merlin asks. He’s gathering a pile of clothing together that Arthur has asked him to wash.
Arthur downs the rest of his ale and then grins at Merlin and says, “You know, Merlin. One more mug of this ale and I’d be up for just about anything.”
“Meaning?” Merlin asks. He picks up one of Arthur’s shirts from the floor and sniffs it, scrunches up his nose and adds it to the pile.
Arthur shrugs and tries to stop smiling, but he can feel the trace of his last smile still tugging at the corner of his mouth.
“It means,” Arthur starts as he stands from his chair. “It means, that - what I’m trying to say here is that I probably wouldn’t be opposed to anything you might have in mind. If you have something in mind. If what you have in mind is kissing me, that is.”
“What?” Merlin repeats, looking up from Arthur’s laundry. “What did you say?”
“I know what you’ve been up to and I’m telling you that it’s all right, Merlin” Arthur reiterates, only slightly annoyed that Merlin hasn’t been paying attention. “You can kiss me.”
“Kiss you?” Merlin parrots. “Why would I kiss you?”
Arthur blinks at him. “Just come here,” he says, motioning Merlin toward the table.
Merlin hesitates and then drops the pile of laundry and takes a few steps toward Arthur. Arthur, impatient, takes a few steps forward to meet Merlin halfway. Merlin recoils a little when Arthur reaches for him, closes his eyes when Arthur grips his arms.
“What is wrong with you?” Arthur demands. This isn’t at all how he thought it might go.
“Me?” Merlin asks, eyes open now and glaring. “What’s wrong w-“
They both jump as a log cracks in the fireplace and flames burst out into the room, licking the wood of the table where Arthur had been sitting moments earlier.
“What in God’s name,” Arthur says, watches the flames die down before he turns to Merlin. Merlin’s mouth is hanging open. Arthur has instinctively pulled Merlin close so that his arms are around him, a hand protective at the back of Merlin’s neck. He releases Merlin now and takes a step back.
Merlin doesn’t say anything, instead he walks the few steps toward the window, leaning out and looking in all directions before turning to frown at Arthur.
“Sometimes I think this old castle is haunted,” Arthur says in an attempt to clear the air and lighten the mood. He is only half joking.
“This castle isn’t that old,” Merlin says.
“It’s an expression.”
“It’s actually a pretty new castle,” Merlin continues.
“All right,” Arthur sighs and waves a hand to dismiss Merlin.
Merlin picks up the laundry that he’d discarded on the floor and then turns back to Arthur. “Who told you I wanted to kiss you?” he asks.
Arthur shrugs and says “Do you?”
Merlin shrugs back. “I hadn’t thought much about - I don’t know. Not really.”
Arthur shrugs again, stuck in the cycle. “Fine,” he says. “You can leave.”
Merlin pauses, opens his mouth to speak and then seems to think better of it. He gathers the last of the pile of Arthur’s clothes and disappears from the room.
Arthur stares at the fire for a while longer. The flames have settled down into a steady orange glow. Merlin recoiling from his touch keeps repeating itself over and over in his head. Arthur has never entirely understood Merlin. If it was the other way around, if someone was offering to let Arthur kiss them, Arthur would take them up on it. In most cases. If it was the other way around and Merlin was the one propositioning Arthur, Arthur certainly wouldn’t have protested. Or well, he would have, loudly and vehemently, but only for show.
Arthur chews on his fingernail and contemplates whether Merlin might be hiding his feelings for show. Arthur sees no reason why Merlin would, or should for that matter. Arthur thinks he’s made it pretty clear by now that he has no intention of turning Merlin away. Merlin in turn has nothing to gain from playing hard to get.
Eventually Arthur shakes his head in an attempt to clear his thoughts, kicks off his boots, and climbs into bed. He lies on his back and stares up at the bed canopy. Maybe he is entirely wrong about Merlin. Maybe Merlin isn’t being consumed by the unnatural lust that is so common at their age at all. Maybe Merlin really has no interest in Arthur other than as his prince and his friend. Still, Arthur had been so sure. Almost as though he’s been hoping it to be the explanation.
Stupid, Arthur thinks. Of course that isn’t what this is. Merlin is scrawny, awkward, and likely brain addled. Arthur is crown prince of Albion. They are friends, sometimes when they allow themselves to be, but that is all. It’s all that Arthur wants them to be, and he’s starting to think that maybe it’s all that Merlin wants too. And that is fine with Arthur. That’s better for Arthur. Sleeping with servants always ends in awkwardness. So Arthur hears.
**
Arthur can’t have been asleep very long before Merlin bursts back into his room, shouting. Arthur is out of bed, shouting back at Merlin about knocking, about the importance of rest, and pulling on his boots when a beam collapses, nearly destroying the bed that Arthur was sleeping in mere moments before.
“You knew that was going to happen,” Arthur says, turning on Merlin with an accusatory finger.
“Not exactly,” Merlin says. “I was outside. I heard the beam crack.”
“I was inside and I didn’t hear a thing,” Arthur says. “And what are you doing outside my chamber in the middle of the night? How did you know when to burst in like that? Why have you been spying on me?”
Arthur is shaken and he’s had enough. He’s through with Merlin’s games. So far he has seemed to jump to all the wrong conclusions and it’s caused him nothing but headaches and embarrassment and a slight longing that certainly wasn’t there before he started thinking too hard about things he hadn’t spent nearly so much time thinking about before.
“Well?” Arthur prods. Merlin seems reluctant to speak, but Arthur is the prince here and Merlin will tell him what this is all about. Arthur is no longer amused by any of it.
“We thought it would be best not to tell you,” Merlin says.
“Tell me what?” Arthur demands.
“The castle - We, I mean, Gaius and I, believe that it may be cursed. Or possibly enchanted. I’m still not sure the difference. Either way, it’s trying to kill you.”
“The castle is trying to kill me,” Arthur repeats, feeling the anger rush out of him at Merlin’s words. He sighs and sits on the edge of the table. “That’s why you’ve been following me around? To make sure that the castle doesn’t try to kill me again? Merlin, that’s the single most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard.”
“How long have you known I was watching?” Merlin asks.
“Since you started,” Arthur snaps, a bit more harshly than he means to. He shakes his head apologetically and continues. “And now you can stop. I’ve had a stroke of bad luck. That’s all. The castle is not enchanted or cursed. There is no magic here and I have better things to do than serve as a cure for a physician’s boredom.”
“Arthur,” Merlin begins to protest, but Arthur holds up a hand. He pushes away from the table and guides Merlin out of his chambers and into the hall.
“Good night, Merlin,” Arthur says. He is about to turn back into his chambers when Merlin reaches out to touch his shoulder. Arthur tries not to misinterpret Merlin’s touch, ignores his disappointment that there’s probably nothing there to misinterpret. “What now?”
“Nothing,” Merlin says. “Just - where are you going to sleep?”
Arthur looks at his bed, in complete disarray.
“I could set up the room next -“ Merlin starts, but Arthur holds up a hand to shut him up. He stalks past Merlin and into the next room, shutting the door on Merlin before he can finish his sentence. The room is cold, but the bed is intact and Arthur climbs beneath the blankets and closes his eyes.
**
Merlin doesn’t stop following him, even after Arthur stalks over to the tree that Merlin is lurking behind, pulls Merlin out by the scruff of his shirt and hisses, “Stop. Following. Me.” It works for half a day before Arthur spots Merlin crouched behind a cart. This time Arthur stares pointedly at Merlin and when Merlin finally meets his gaze, Arthur just raises his eyebrows and continues about his business.
The fact is, and Arthur is loath to admit it, he’s starting to find that he enjoys Merlin watching him. He finds himself adjusting his clothing, his posture, smiling at his men more. He realizes he’s showing off, preening, that he’s reveling in having someone watch his every move, even if it’s someone who blatantly denies any desire that the watching turn into anything more. Arthur has been watched his whole life and he knows that he should be used to it. He is used to it, which only makes his response to Merlin that much more pathetic.
Arthur puts up with it until three days following the incident in his chambers when he’s walking down a hallway in the castle and suddenly, out of nowhere (not that he would admit it should anyone ask, but Arthur actually hadn’t realized he was being followed at that point.), Merlin comes bounding around a corner and tackles Arthur sending them both sliding across the stone floor.
“Are you insane?” Arthur asks, pushing at Merlin.
Merlin pushes him back, harder than Arthur would have expected him to, hard enough that Arthur’s head knocks against the stone floor, and then turns just as the suit of armour that Arthur was about to walk past falls with a deafening boom. The head breaks off the statue. It is filled with heavy round stones that spill out onto the floor. Merlin turns back to look down at Arthur, raises his eyebrows. Arthur turns his head away, to stop himself from hitting Merlin, though mostly he’s thinking about maybe grabbing Merlin’s smug face and kissing him. It just makes him want to hit Merlin that much more.
Arthur hears a shout and footsteps running.
“Come on,” Merlin says. He’s off the floor in an instant, reaching out to pull Arthur up as well. Arthur means to protest, to demand why they should run from his own men, but he finds himself following Merlin anyway, and before long they are racing into his new temporary chambers. Merlin slams the door shut behind them.
“How did you know that was going to happen?” Arthur demands, pushing Merlin just a little so that Merlin is trapped between the wooden door and Arthur.
“I saw the statue shake,” Merlin says.
“Because you were watching me,” Arthur concludes. “You’ve been following me for weeks now, even after I’ve told you repeatedly to stop. If I didn’t know how harmless you are, I’d be required to throw you into the dungeon for plotting against me.”
Merlin rolls his eyes at Arthur and shakes his head, and then seems to reconsider his lie. “There have been things happening that you haven’t seen.”
“What sort of things?” Arthur asks warily. He’s been so busy keeping one eye on Merlin that he thinks it might be possible that he’s been missing something.
“Statues falling, bricks collapsing, all manner of strange things. Freak accidents and they’re all centered around you,” Merlin says. He’s still breathing hard and he reaches out to set a hand on Arthur’s shoulder, then thinks better of it and drops his hand back to his side.
“The castle is possessed with a magic spell and trying to kill me,” Arthur concludes, remembering their conversation from a few nights prior.
“Yes,” Merlin hisses, and this time he does reach out, grips Arthur’s shoulders as though he intends to shake some sense into him. Arthur wouldn’t blame him. Frankly, standing so close to Merlin, Arthur’s thinking he could really use some sense.
Arthur looks down at Merlin’s hands and says, “How do I know you aren’t the one trying to kill me?”
Merlin just gives him a look. “I’ve been following you around trying to save you,” Merlin says.
Arthur reaches up and lightly touches the back of Merlin’s hand where it rests on his shoulder. Merlin’s skin is cold and Merlin pulls his hand away at Arthur’s touch.
“Sorry,” Merlin says, and Arthur just shakes his head, decides that good sense has always been an overrated quality, and kisses him. Merlin, surprised, doesn’t respond at first, tries to take a stumbling step back in fact, but the thick wood of the door stops him and Arthur steps in to fill the space that Merlin has just vacated, steps in and cups Merlin’s face in his hands, rubs his thumb across Merlin’s flushed cheeks and then kisses him again before Merlin might have a chance to protest.
For a moment it’s like kissing that statue in the hallway. Merlin seems to be paralyzed, standing there as Arthur kisses his unmoving lips. Arthur is not quick to accept failure, and he kisses Merlin again, twice, and then once more. He sighs against Merlin’s unresponsive mouth, opens his eyes to see Merlin staring at him.
Arthur can’t hold his gaze. He feels sense rushing back into his body and his cheeks flush. He releases Merlin’s face and pulls away, starts to turn in embarrassment and opens his mouth to ask Merlin to leave. Arthur doesn’t manage to get an entire word out before Merlin’s hands are on him, pulling him back, kissing him back, once, chaste and dry.
Arthur pulls back and frowns.
“What?” Merlin asks. Arthur imagines that Merlin’s frown is a mirror of his own.
Arthur thinks it through for a moment and then says, “You didn’t just do that because you’re in my employ, did you?”
“I don’t - “ Merlin starts. He reaches a hand out to touch Arthur’s arm. “Should I?”
“No,” Arthur says, recoiling a little. “Of course not. I would never - you were going to kiss me because you think you’re required to?” He turns back to Merlin and tries hard not to look as disgusted as he suddenly feels.
Merlin stares at him for a moment in silence, his eyes seem to be taking in every inch of Arthur so that suddenly he feels exposed, self conscious. It’s completely different to the way Merlin’s eyes had felt to him before Arthur had forced himself on Merlin. Arthur should apologize, explain, something.
Merlin looks down at the floor and says, “Don’t be stupid. I don’t do everything that you tell me to do, you know.”
Arthur’s frown deepens slightly. “Yes, you do.”
Merlin just shrugs.
Arthur sighs, steps away from Merlin, crosses the room and collapses onto his back on the bed, pushes his hair off his forehead. “It was a stupid idea.”
Merlin looks down, refuses to look at Arthur for a moment and then nods in agreement. He licks his lips and moves to leave. Arthur sits up.
“You don’t have to leave,” Arthur says. “That’s not what I meant. Not to say - you can leave, you just don’t have to.”
Merlin thinks about this, then crosses the room and sits beside Arthur on the bed.
“You’re not making a lot of sense tonight,” Merlin says, eventually, and Arthur feels the corner of his mouth turn up in a smile. Merlin returns the smile, then lies back beside Arthur on the bed. A bold move from a manservant, but a friendly and promising gesture of forgiveness from a friend in light of Arthur’s earlier proposition. They lie there side by side on the bed, not touching but close enough that Arthur can feel warmth radiating from the body beside him. He’s surprised that Merlin isn’t leaving, isn’t rushing out of Arthur’s chambers as fast as he can.
Eventually, Arthur accepts that Merlin is apparently not scarred by Arthur’s molestation, and does not need to run to safety. He turns to Merlin and says, “So. The castle has been taken over by magic.”
“It seems that way, yeah,” Merlin agrees, visibly relaxing at the change in subject.
Arthur sighs. “Perfect. My father will be thrilled to find out about this.”
“You’re going to tell him?” Merlin asks.
“Do I have any choice?”
“Of course you do,” Merlin says. He rolls onto his side and props up his head with his elbow so that he’s looking down at Arthur. “We take care of it ourselves.”
Arthur snorts a little. “How?”
“I’m not sure yet,” Merlin admits. “First we need to figure out what this is - who is doing it.” Arthur opens his mouth and Merlin holds up a hand to silence him. “Anyway, if you get the king involved who will he assign to take care of this? You.”
Merlin has a point.
“By not telling him, you’re probably saving some innocent person from near execution,” Merlin offers as further bait.
“All right, all right,” Arthur concedes. “We’ll deal with this ourselves.”
“I’ll let you get some sleep,” Merlin suggests. He presses his fingers lightly to the back of Arthur’s hand. Arthur rotates his hand so that Merlin’s fingers dance across his more sensitive palm.
“Sleep here,” Arthur offers, before he can stop himself.
Merlin looks like he plans to argue and Arthur cuts him off quickly. “Just tell Gaius I kept you up all night working,” Arthur suggests. Merlin doesn’t have to answer to Gaius regarding his whereabouts and Arthur is sure that Merlin knows that, but Gaius is a friend, a mentor to Merlin, and Arthur also understands the responsibility that Merlin feels.
“I guess you’re probably safer with someone else here,” Merlin agrees eventually. He removes his tunic and his neckerchief before settling back down into the bed.
Arthur is tempted to make a joke about Merlin’s slight build and new found role as Arthur’s bodyguard, but he bites his tongue and nods instead. Merlin smiles and rolls over so that his back is to Arthur, and after a moment of staring at the back of Merlin’s head, Arthur tosses his shirt to the floor, turns as well and shuts his eyes.
(continue with Part 1: The Stumble)
Part 1/2: The Stumble
Fandom: Merlin
Pairing: Arthur/Merlin
Rating: PG (Part 2 will move into NC-17 territory)
Word Count: ~10,600
Notes: Set during the latter half of the 1st season
Summary: The infatuation is understandable. Arthur understands completely and quite honestly, he’s flattered. Merlin’s feelings are not the problem. The problem - the thing that Arthur can’t quite figure out - is why Merlin has begun spying on him.
Arthur has suspected for some time that Merlin admires him.
No, truthfully, Arthur knows that Merlin admires him, but it’s only recently that Arthur has started to suspect that that admiration may have begun to manifest itself as something of an infatuation. A romantic yearning.
Simply put, Merlin is smitten with him.
It was bound to happen. Merlin, after all, is Merlin. Arthur thinks it’s good - healthy, really - for Merlin to have role models. Role models other than old Gaius, who isn’t a bad role model by any means, he’s just nothing like any of the role models that Arthur has ever had. And if Merlin needs more role models, then modesty aside, Arthur thinks that he’s probably a pretty good choice.
The infatuation is understandable. Arthur would be lying if he said he’d never experienced similar feelings toward those he looked up to, to the knights who helped to train him, to the teachers who’d molded him. Arthur understands completely and quite honestly, he’s flattered.
Merlin’s feelings are not the problem.
The problem - the thing that Arthur can’t quite figure out - is why Merlin has begun spying on him. He’s pretending he hasn’t noticed, but of course he has. It isn’t as though Merlin is some master of stealth. Arthur has caught him numerous times, watching from around corners, from behind statues, and once from hidden within a shrub. It took all of Arthur’s self control not to end the game right there, the urge to mock Merlin was so great.
Arthur’s curious, though not bothered by it enough to put a stop to it. He’d ask, but he suspects the spy game is connected to Merlin’s infatuation, and though usually Arthur might jump at the chance to humiliate Merlin, in this case he’d rather tread a bit more carefully. Still, he can’t help but use it to make Merlin’s life just that much more difficult.
If Arthur happens to notice Merlin, he’ll abruptly change course and walk in that direction so that Merlin either has to scramble away or feign innocence, and frankly, Merlin has never been much of an actor. Sometimes if he’s within earshot, Arthur will discuss Merlin’s shortcomings loudly with his men (who of course are in on the entire thing. Merlin is really very bad at this whole stealth business), listing off the things that Merlin has failed to do in an exasperated and annoyed tone, slowly so that he can be sure that Merlin will hear every carefully articulated word.
It works. Merlin almost invariably begins doing the things that he hears Arthur complaining about, things that Arthur would never request of Merlin if not for the fun of seeing if he’ll actually follow through.
At first Arthur suspects that maybe Merlin just wishes to spend more time with him. Arthur doesn’t necessarily have an issue with that. Obviously he can’t have Merlin around when he is working, or investigating his father’s latest magical overreaction, but in general he doesn’t mind Merlin’s company much at all. So Arthur summons him.
“What is it that you need?” Merlin asks after standing around Arthur’s chambers in silence for ten minutes waiting for Arthur to direct him. If possible, Merlin seems even more antsy than usual.
Arthur doesn’t actually need anything, but they don’t really do this, just spend time together with no real purpose. Arthur looks around the room and tries to come up with something for Merlin to do.
“What?” Merlin asks again, impatience seeping into his tone.
Finally Arthur shrugs and says, “I just want you here in case I think of something that I’ll need you for. If you’re here already there will be no need to send for you. It saves time.”
Merlin is staring at him.
“Gwen is always with Morgana,” Arthur reasons. “It works well for them. You and I hardly seem to know each other when you compare.”
“I thought the current percentage of time we spent together worked,” Merlin says, and Arthur is just a tiny bit disappointed that he can’t find anything in Merlin’s voice to betray the fact that maybe Merlin does want to be spending more time with Arthur. Enough time that Merlin is willing to stalk Arthur just to be in his presence.
“It does,” Arthur concedes. “This is just a trial.”
“All right,’ Merlin nods. He looks around the room, unsure of what he should do with himself.
Eventually Arthur rolls his eyes and motions toward a chair. They sit in silence for a while, watching the fire crackle in the hearth.
“How long do you want me to stay?” Merlin asks, eventually.
Arthur tries to hold his tongue. He really does try, but Merlin is looking at him expectantly and this isn’t how he thought offering to spend time with Merlin would go, and so he throws up his hands, stands from his seat and leans across the table toward Merlin, pointing an accusatory finger at him.
“Fine, you know what? Never mind. You can go about doing whatever it is you do when you’re not here. It’s not like I care what you do.”
Merlin looks taken aback. He stares at Arthur in silence for a moment before rolling his eyes and settling back into his chair. “No,” he says. “No, I’ll stay. It’s fine.”
They lapse back into an uncomfortable silence. Arthur paces the room twice before coming back to stand at the table. Honestly, Arthur is starting to wish that Merlin had just agreed to leave. Instead Merlin stares down at the table so that Arthur can’t even see Merlin’s expression, just a dark mop of messy hair.
He’s still staring down at the top of Merlin’s head when Merlin asks, “Did something happen?”
“No,” Arthur snaps. Leave it to Merlin to turn it around so that Arthur is the problem.
“Are you going to sit back down?” Merlin asks.
Arthur, feeling suddenly stubborn says, “No.”
Merlin shrugs and resumes examining the wood of Arthur’s table.
The entire thing is ridiculous. They aren’t children. They’ve had civilized conversations before. There is no reason that this should be so awkward or so quiet. Arthur clears his throat and decides that maybe he just needs to make more of an effort. Merlin looks up at him, expectant.
“You really haven’t been around much,” Arthur observes, forcing all of the annoyance from his voice. It’s not true, obviously. Merlin has been around quite a lot if you count peeking out from behind pillars and market stalls as being around. “Are you working on some new research with Gaius?”
“Something like that,” Merlin agrees. “Yeah.” He refuses to directly meet Arthur’s gaze.
“He has you off in the woods picking nuts and berries, does he?”
Merlin just nods and taps his fingers against the table. Merlin is full of nervous ticks - bouncing his leg, pulling at buttons, tapping his utensils or his fingers against hard surfaces.
Arthur bites his tongue to stop himself from snapping at Merlin’s finger tapping. Instead he nods as well and pushes himself away from the table, walks around it to stand behind Merlin, then reaches out to rest his hands on Merlin’s shoulders. Merlin flinches. Arthur kneads Merlin’s bony shoulders a bit with his hands. He means it as a comforting massage of sorts, but he must be doing it wrong because Merlin’s shoulders hunch up and he looks like he might be in pain. Arthur stops kneading.
“I hope Gaius isn’t working you too hard.”
“It’s fine,” Merlin says. He smiles up at Arthur but it looks forced.
Arthur sighs. “Try to relax, Merlin. Just being around you lately has me on edge.”
“Sorry,” Merlin says, and he does seem to relax just a little, but not until Arthur removes his hand from Merlin’s shoulder.
**
There is clearly some reason that Merlin is following Arthur. The reason does not seem to be the infatuation that Merlin - though better at hiding it than Arthur expects - still rather obviously harbours. There is something else.
Arthur wracks his brain, trying to determine when it was that he first noticed Merlin lurking behind corners. By mid-morning he’s sure that this whole thing started shortly after Arthur was nearly taken out by a falling piece of masonry. He was conversing with Merlin about the art of archery directly outside the castle walls. Merlin, who can never seem to pay attention to anything for long, noticed the falling brick and pushed Arthur out of the way moments before the stone hit the ground exactly where Arthur had been standing.
They stayed as they were for a moment, a tangled pile of limbs in a cloud of dust, both breathing heavily and staring open-mouthed at the brick that probably weighed about as much as Merlin.
“Lucky you were there,” Arthur said, trying to keep his voice steady. After all, meeting his end while battling a Griffin was one thing. Death by falling rock would just be an embarrassment.
Later that same week, Arthur nearly fell down a staircase due to loose stone work on the top step.
“This castle is falling apart,” Arthur grumbled, shaking Merlin’s hands off of his arm. Merlin looked pale and Arthur rolled his eyes at the display of shock. What he really meant to say was ‘thank you’, but his heart was racing a little and the whole thing was a bit humiliating and the thanks were pushed aside for the moment.
It is three or four days later that Arthur first notices that he is being followed.
**
Arthur likes to think that he would have noticed just as quickly even if Morgana didn’t stop beside Arthur in a courtyard and say, “Why do you have Merlin hiding in the bushes?”
“What are you talking about?” Arthur asks, looking from Morgana to Gwen, who quickly looks away rather than meet Arthur’s eyes.
“Merlin. He’s over - “ Morgana starts and then seems to think it through and says, “You didn’t tell him to - “ and then stops, most likely not wanting to get Merlin in any kind of trouble. Sometimes Arthur thinks that Morgana is more loyal to Merlin than she is to him.
“Well, never mind,” Morgana says and changes the subject, tries to discuss some new decree of his father’s instead. Arthur nods and scans the yard, eventually spotting movement in the bushes along the eastern wall. That same afternoon he turns and sees Merlin stop abruptly at the other end of a long corridor, quickly sliding back into a corner along a wall where he is out of sight. Arthur stares for a moment and calls Merlin’s name, but there is no answer.
**
He spends an afternoon trying to connect what he knows: the infatuation, the events that result in Merlin turning stalker, their uncomfortable evening in Arthur’s quarters, and after finishing one mug of ale and starting on another, Arthur finally comes to a conclusion.
The pieces started to come together that morning when Arthur, preoccupied with working out the puzzle of Merlin’s behaviour, tripped over a rut in the road and stumbled. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Merlin start, ready to dash out from his hiding place behind a rickety old cart. Merlin’s hand was raised as though perhaps his arm was long enough to prevent Arthur’s fall even from that distance.
Arthur regained his balance and Merlin retreated, but not quickly enough, not before Arthur began to fit it all together and once he does, it’s so clear. Merlin is following Arthur hoping for another act of clumsiness on Arthur’s part. At first Arthur thinks that Merlin is just looking to increase the number of times that he’s saved Arthur. Maybe Merlin needs to ask a favour and is trying to butter Arthur up, use it as leverage.
Then Arthur remembers the rush of adrenalin that day outside the castle walls, their heavy breathing and tangled limbs as they stared at the place where the stone brick had landed, Arthur’s hand resting low on Merlin’s stomach so that he could feel each quick breath that Merlin took. Merlin isn’t looking for leverage. Merlin is looking for an excuse to touch Arthur without seeming obvious, without giving himself away. Merlin isn’t trying to save Arthur, he’s trying to grope Arthur. It isn’t merely Arthur’s presence that Merlin craves. Merlin needs physical contact.
Arthur smiles and looks up from his drink.
“What’s that look?” Merlin asks. He’s gathering a pile of clothing together that Arthur has asked him to wash.
Arthur downs the rest of his ale and then grins at Merlin and says, “You know, Merlin. One more mug of this ale and I’d be up for just about anything.”
“Meaning?” Merlin asks. He picks up one of Arthur’s shirts from the floor and sniffs it, scrunches up his nose and adds it to the pile.
Arthur shrugs and tries to stop smiling, but he can feel the trace of his last smile still tugging at the corner of his mouth.
“It means,” Arthur starts as he stands from his chair. “It means, that - what I’m trying to say here is that I probably wouldn’t be opposed to anything you might have in mind. If you have something in mind. If what you have in mind is kissing me, that is.”
“What?” Merlin repeats, looking up from Arthur’s laundry. “What did you say?”
“I know what you’ve been up to and I’m telling you that it’s all right, Merlin” Arthur reiterates, only slightly annoyed that Merlin hasn’t been paying attention. “You can kiss me.”
“Kiss you?” Merlin parrots. “Why would I kiss you?”
Arthur blinks at him. “Just come here,” he says, motioning Merlin toward the table.
Merlin hesitates and then drops the pile of laundry and takes a few steps toward Arthur. Arthur, impatient, takes a few steps forward to meet Merlin halfway. Merlin recoils a little when Arthur reaches for him, closes his eyes when Arthur grips his arms.
“What is wrong with you?” Arthur demands. This isn’t at all how he thought it might go.
“Me?” Merlin asks, eyes open now and glaring. “What’s wrong w-“
They both jump as a log cracks in the fireplace and flames burst out into the room, licking the wood of the table where Arthur had been sitting moments earlier.
“What in God’s name,” Arthur says, watches the flames die down before he turns to Merlin. Merlin’s mouth is hanging open. Arthur has instinctively pulled Merlin close so that his arms are around him, a hand protective at the back of Merlin’s neck. He releases Merlin now and takes a step back.
Merlin doesn’t say anything, instead he walks the few steps toward the window, leaning out and looking in all directions before turning to frown at Arthur.
“Sometimes I think this old castle is haunted,” Arthur says in an attempt to clear the air and lighten the mood. He is only half joking.
“This castle isn’t that old,” Merlin says.
“It’s an expression.”
“It’s actually a pretty new castle,” Merlin continues.
“All right,” Arthur sighs and waves a hand to dismiss Merlin.
Merlin picks up the laundry that he’d discarded on the floor and then turns back to Arthur. “Who told you I wanted to kiss you?” he asks.
Arthur shrugs and says “Do you?”
Merlin shrugs back. “I hadn’t thought much about - I don’t know. Not really.”
Arthur shrugs again, stuck in the cycle. “Fine,” he says. “You can leave.”
Merlin pauses, opens his mouth to speak and then seems to think better of it. He gathers the last of the pile of Arthur’s clothes and disappears from the room.
Arthur stares at the fire for a while longer. The flames have settled down into a steady orange glow. Merlin recoiling from his touch keeps repeating itself over and over in his head. Arthur has never entirely understood Merlin. If it was the other way around, if someone was offering to let Arthur kiss them, Arthur would take them up on it. In most cases. If it was the other way around and Merlin was the one propositioning Arthur, Arthur certainly wouldn’t have protested. Or well, he would have, loudly and vehemently, but only for show.
Arthur chews on his fingernail and contemplates whether Merlin might be hiding his feelings for show. Arthur sees no reason why Merlin would, or should for that matter. Arthur thinks he’s made it pretty clear by now that he has no intention of turning Merlin away. Merlin in turn has nothing to gain from playing hard to get.
Eventually Arthur shakes his head in an attempt to clear his thoughts, kicks off his boots, and climbs into bed. He lies on his back and stares up at the bed canopy. Maybe he is entirely wrong about Merlin. Maybe Merlin isn’t being consumed by the unnatural lust that is so common at their age at all. Maybe Merlin really has no interest in Arthur other than as his prince and his friend. Still, Arthur had been so sure. Almost as though he’s been hoping it to be the explanation.
Stupid, Arthur thinks. Of course that isn’t what this is. Merlin is scrawny, awkward, and likely brain addled. Arthur is crown prince of Albion. They are friends, sometimes when they allow themselves to be, but that is all. It’s all that Arthur wants them to be, and he’s starting to think that maybe it’s all that Merlin wants too. And that is fine with Arthur. That’s better for Arthur. Sleeping with servants always ends in awkwardness. So Arthur hears.
**
Arthur can’t have been asleep very long before Merlin bursts back into his room, shouting. Arthur is out of bed, shouting back at Merlin about knocking, about the importance of rest, and pulling on his boots when a beam collapses, nearly destroying the bed that Arthur was sleeping in mere moments before.
“You knew that was going to happen,” Arthur says, turning on Merlin with an accusatory finger.
“Not exactly,” Merlin says. “I was outside. I heard the beam crack.”
“I was inside and I didn’t hear a thing,” Arthur says. “And what are you doing outside my chamber in the middle of the night? How did you know when to burst in like that? Why have you been spying on me?”
Arthur is shaken and he’s had enough. He’s through with Merlin’s games. So far he has seemed to jump to all the wrong conclusions and it’s caused him nothing but headaches and embarrassment and a slight longing that certainly wasn’t there before he started thinking too hard about things he hadn’t spent nearly so much time thinking about before.
“Well?” Arthur prods. Merlin seems reluctant to speak, but Arthur is the prince here and Merlin will tell him what this is all about. Arthur is no longer amused by any of it.
“We thought it would be best not to tell you,” Merlin says.
“Tell me what?” Arthur demands.
“The castle - We, I mean, Gaius and I, believe that it may be cursed. Or possibly enchanted. I’m still not sure the difference. Either way, it’s trying to kill you.”
“The castle is trying to kill me,” Arthur repeats, feeling the anger rush out of him at Merlin’s words. He sighs and sits on the edge of the table. “That’s why you’ve been following me around? To make sure that the castle doesn’t try to kill me again? Merlin, that’s the single most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard.”
“How long have you known I was watching?” Merlin asks.
“Since you started,” Arthur snaps, a bit more harshly than he means to. He shakes his head apologetically and continues. “And now you can stop. I’ve had a stroke of bad luck. That’s all. The castle is not enchanted or cursed. There is no magic here and I have better things to do than serve as a cure for a physician’s boredom.”
“Arthur,” Merlin begins to protest, but Arthur holds up a hand. He pushes away from the table and guides Merlin out of his chambers and into the hall.
“Good night, Merlin,” Arthur says. He is about to turn back into his chambers when Merlin reaches out to touch his shoulder. Arthur tries not to misinterpret Merlin’s touch, ignores his disappointment that there’s probably nothing there to misinterpret. “What now?”
“Nothing,” Merlin says. “Just - where are you going to sleep?”
Arthur looks at his bed, in complete disarray.
“I could set up the room next -“ Merlin starts, but Arthur holds up a hand to shut him up. He stalks past Merlin and into the next room, shutting the door on Merlin before he can finish his sentence. The room is cold, but the bed is intact and Arthur climbs beneath the blankets and closes his eyes.
**
Merlin doesn’t stop following him, even after Arthur stalks over to the tree that Merlin is lurking behind, pulls Merlin out by the scruff of his shirt and hisses, “Stop. Following. Me.” It works for half a day before Arthur spots Merlin crouched behind a cart. This time Arthur stares pointedly at Merlin and when Merlin finally meets his gaze, Arthur just raises his eyebrows and continues about his business.
The fact is, and Arthur is loath to admit it, he’s starting to find that he enjoys Merlin watching him. He finds himself adjusting his clothing, his posture, smiling at his men more. He realizes he’s showing off, preening, that he’s reveling in having someone watch his every move, even if it’s someone who blatantly denies any desire that the watching turn into anything more. Arthur has been watched his whole life and he knows that he should be used to it. He is used to it, which only makes his response to Merlin that much more pathetic.
Arthur puts up with it until three days following the incident in his chambers when he’s walking down a hallway in the castle and suddenly, out of nowhere (not that he would admit it should anyone ask, but Arthur actually hadn’t realized he was being followed at that point.), Merlin comes bounding around a corner and tackles Arthur sending them both sliding across the stone floor.
“Are you insane?” Arthur asks, pushing at Merlin.
Merlin pushes him back, harder than Arthur would have expected him to, hard enough that Arthur’s head knocks against the stone floor, and then turns just as the suit of armour that Arthur was about to walk past falls with a deafening boom. The head breaks off the statue. It is filled with heavy round stones that spill out onto the floor. Merlin turns back to look down at Arthur, raises his eyebrows. Arthur turns his head away, to stop himself from hitting Merlin, though mostly he’s thinking about maybe grabbing Merlin’s smug face and kissing him. It just makes him want to hit Merlin that much more.
Arthur hears a shout and footsteps running.
“Come on,” Merlin says. He’s off the floor in an instant, reaching out to pull Arthur up as well. Arthur means to protest, to demand why they should run from his own men, but he finds himself following Merlin anyway, and before long they are racing into his new temporary chambers. Merlin slams the door shut behind them.
“How did you know that was going to happen?” Arthur demands, pushing Merlin just a little so that Merlin is trapped between the wooden door and Arthur.
“I saw the statue shake,” Merlin says.
“Because you were watching me,” Arthur concludes. “You’ve been following me for weeks now, even after I’ve told you repeatedly to stop. If I didn’t know how harmless you are, I’d be required to throw you into the dungeon for plotting against me.”
Merlin rolls his eyes at Arthur and shakes his head, and then seems to reconsider his lie. “There have been things happening that you haven’t seen.”
“What sort of things?” Arthur asks warily. He’s been so busy keeping one eye on Merlin that he thinks it might be possible that he’s been missing something.
“Statues falling, bricks collapsing, all manner of strange things. Freak accidents and they’re all centered around you,” Merlin says. He’s still breathing hard and he reaches out to set a hand on Arthur’s shoulder, then thinks better of it and drops his hand back to his side.
“The castle is possessed with a magic spell and trying to kill me,” Arthur concludes, remembering their conversation from a few nights prior.
“Yes,” Merlin hisses, and this time he does reach out, grips Arthur’s shoulders as though he intends to shake some sense into him. Arthur wouldn’t blame him. Frankly, standing so close to Merlin, Arthur’s thinking he could really use some sense.
Arthur looks down at Merlin’s hands and says, “How do I know you aren’t the one trying to kill me?”
Merlin just gives him a look. “I’ve been following you around trying to save you,” Merlin says.
Arthur reaches up and lightly touches the back of Merlin’s hand where it rests on his shoulder. Merlin’s skin is cold and Merlin pulls his hand away at Arthur’s touch.
“Sorry,” Merlin says, and Arthur just shakes his head, decides that good sense has always been an overrated quality, and kisses him. Merlin, surprised, doesn’t respond at first, tries to take a stumbling step back in fact, but the thick wood of the door stops him and Arthur steps in to fill the space that Merlin has just vacated, steps in and cups Merlin’s face in his hands, rubs his thumb across Merlin’s flushed cheeks and then kisses him again before Merlin might have a chance to protest.
For a moment it’s like kissing that statue in the hallway. Merlin seems to be paralyzed, standing there as Arthur kisses his unmoving lips. Arthur is not quick to accept failure, and he kisses Merlin again, twice, and then once more. He sighs against Merlin’s unresponsive mouth, opens his eyes to see Merlin staring at him.
Arthur can’t hold his gaze. He feels sense rushing back into his body and his cheeks flush. He releases Merlin’s face and pulls away, starts to turn in embarrassment and opens his mouth to ask Merlin to leave. Arthur doesn’t manage to get an entire word out before Merlin’s hands are on him, pulling him back, kissing him back, once, chaste and dry.
Arthur pulls back and frowns.
“What?” Merlin asks. Arthur imagines that Merlin’s frown is a mirror of his own.
Arthur thinks it through for a moment and then says, “You didn’t just do that because you’re in my employ, did you?”
“I don’t - “ Merlin starts. He reaches a hand out to touch Arthur’s arm. “Should I?”
“No,” Arthur says, recoiling a little. “Of course not. I would never - you were going to kiss me because you think you’re required to?” He turns back to Merlin and tries hard not to look as disgusted as he suddenly feels.
Merlin stares at him for a moment in silence, his eyes seem to be taking in every inch of Arthur so that suddenly he feels exposed, self conscious. It’s completely different to the way Merlin’s eyes had felt to him before Arthur had forced himself on Merlin. Arthur should apologize, explain, something.
Merlin looks down at the floor and says, “Don’t be stupid. I don’t do everything that you tell me to do, you know.”
Arthur’s frown deepens slightly. “Yes, you do.”
Merlin just shrugs.
Arthur sighs, steps away from Merlin, crosses the room and collapses onto his back on the bed, pushes his hair off his forehead. “It was a stupid idea.”
Merlin looks down, refuses to look at Arthur for a moment and then nods in agreement. He licks his lips and moves to leave. Arthur sits up.
“You don’t have to leave,” Arthur says. “That’s not what I meant. Not to say - you can leave, you just don’t have to.”
Merlin thinks about this, then crosses the room and sits beside Arthur on the bed.
“You’re not making a lot of sense tonight,” Merlin says, eventually, and Arthur feels the corner of his mouth turn up in a smile. Merlin returns the smile, then lies back beside Arthur on the bed. A bold move from a manservant, but a friendly and promising gesture of forgiveness from a friend in light of Arthur’s earlier proposition. They lie there side by side on the bed, not touching but close enough that Arthur can feel warmth radiating from the body beside him. He’s surprised that Merlin isn’t leaving, isn’t rushing out of Arthur’s chambers as fast as he can.
Eventually, Arthur accepts that Merlin is apparently not scarred by Arthur’s molestation, and does not need to run to safety. He turns to Merlin and says, “So. The castle has been taken over by magic.”
“It seems that way, yeah,” Merlin agrees, visibly relaxing at the change in subject.
Arthur sighs. “Perfect. My father will be thrilled to find out about this.”
“You’re going to tell him?” Merlin asks.
“Do I have any choice?”
“Of course you do,” Merlin says. He rolls onto his side and props up his head with his elbow so that he’s looking down at Arthur. “We take care of it ourselves.”
Arthur snorts a little. “How?”
“I’m not sure yet,” Merlin admits. “First we need to figure out what this is - who is doing it.” Arthur opens his mouth and Merlin holds up a hand to silence him. “Anyway, if you get the king involved who will he assign to take care of this? You.”
Merlin has a point.
“By not telling him, you’re probably saving some innocent person from near execution,” Merlin offers as further bait.
“All right, all right,” Arthur concedes. “We’ll deal with this ourselves.”
“I’ll let you get some sleep,” Merlin suggests. He presses his fingers lightly to the back of Arthur’s hand. Arthur rotates his hand so that Merlin’s fingers dance across his more sensitive palm.
“Sleep here,” Arthur offers, before he can stop himself.
Merlin looks like he plans to argue and Arthur cuts him off quickly. “Just tell Gaius I kept you up all night working,” Arthur suggests. Merlin doesn’t have to answer to Gaius regarding his whereabouts and Arthur is sure that Merlin knows that, but Gaius is a friend, a mentor to Merlin, and Arthur also understands the responsibility that Merlin feels.
“I guess you’re probably safer with someone else here,” Merlin agrees eventually. He removes his tunic and his neckerchief before settling back down into the bed.
Arthur is tempted to make a joke about Merlin’s slight build and new found role as Arthur’s bodyguard, but he bites his tongue and nods instead. Merlin smiles and rolls over so that his back is to Arthur, and after a moment of staring at the back of Merlin’s head, Arthur tosses his shirt to the floor, turns as well and shuts his eyes.
(continue with Part 1: The Stumble)