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“Oh,” Harry blinks in surprise at being manhandled, Merlin wrapping his arms around Harry’s waist and spooning him. Harry twists, looking over his shoulder, “Um, hello?”
“I just had my cock up your arse, Harry, I think you can deal with a bit of cuddling.” Merlin’s voice is rough, defensive, and Harry immediately feels bad.
“No, I didn’t mean it like that,” he says. “You just caught me off guard, is all.” He snuggles into Merlin’s arms, “I didn’t peg you for a cuddler.”
“Not going to be a problem, is it?”
Harry laughs, “Not in the slightest.”
***
Harry looks up from his book as Merlin stumbles into the living room, “You look half-dead. Long day?”
“I have been up for almost forty-eight hours straight,” Merlin complains. “You’re a pain in my arse, but at least you listen to me.”
“Tristian or Gawain?” Harry asks. Both have been giving Merlin trouble; neither one seems to fully trust that a young Scotsman from a working-class background could possibly be qualified to be their handler.
“Gawain.” Merlin deposits himself on the couch, stretching out and pushing Harry’s book out of the way so he can rest his head in Harry’s lap. Harry smiles fondly, setting it to the side in favour of wrapping an arm around Merlin’s shoulders and stroking through his thick, black hair. He pauses and reaches for the remote, turning on the television. There’s a football match on, and Harry leaves the volume on low and goes back to carding his fingers through Merlin’s hair.
After a minute, he asks, “Are you purring?”
“I am not a cat, Harry.” The words are slightly muffled by Harry’s trouser-leg.
“You are,” Harry says, delighted.
“Shut up and keep doing that.”
“What?” Harry teases. “This?” He scritches his fingers against Merlin’s scalp and the pleased humming (purring) gets a bit louder.
***
“Come here.”
Harry pauses in the hallway, poking his head into the bedroom, “I have to finish up my mission report, darling.”
“Since when has that ever stopped you from putting it off?” Merlin asks. He makes grabby-hands at Harry, “Come here.”
Harry obliges, sliding into bed with his partner. Merlin gathers him up in his arms, nuzzling into the crook of Harry’s neck and squeezing him gently.
“Hey,” Harry murmurs. “Everything alright?”
“I missed you.”
Harry hugs him back, “I missed you too, darling. Now let me finish my report, and then we can cuddle, okay?”
“In a minute.” Merlin holds on tighter, and Harry couldn’t squirm away if he tried.
“Alright,” he concedes. “In a minute.”
***
“You know,” Alistair says, “I would never have guessed that Merlin was…” He trails off, clearly unsure how to phrase the end of his sentence. They’re all in the living room of Harry and Merlin’s flat. Merlin has Harry practically on his lap, an arm draped around Harry’s shoulder.
James grins, “Merlin gives the best hugs.”
Harry narrows his eyes at James, “How would you know?”
Merlin nudges him, “Because when Alistair’s coms cut out in Berlin, I made an exception to my rule.”
Harry looks outraged, “You never break your rule for me!”
“I thought Alistair was dead!” James tries to placate Harry. “Merlin was just trying to comfort me.”
Harry huffs and folds his arms, “I never get to hug you at the office.”
“Well, next time you think I’m dead and need consoling, I’ll be sure to do that. Oh wait,” Merlin says dryly. He presses a kiss to Harry’s cheek, “Besides. I hug you plenty at home.”
***
Eggsy does a double take when he passes an open door in Harry’s house and sees Merlin bent over a keyboard, frowning as he types. He hesitantly pushes the door open, “Hey, Merlin. What’re you doing here?”
“Yes, what are you doing here?” Harry asks, striding past Eggsy and wrapping his arms around Merlin from behind. “I thought you were working late tonight.”
Merlin leans back into the touch, twisting slightly to press a kiss to the corner of Harry’s lips. He gestures towards Eggsy, “Well, this lot finished earlier than I expected, and everything else I can do from home.”
“You live here?” Eggsy asks, incredulous.
Merlin raises an eyebrow, his eyes flicking to where Harry is still wrapped around him and then back to Eggsy, “Harry and I have been partners for nearly three decades. Yes, we live together.”
“Right.” Eggsy nods. “Okay.”
***
“Jesus, bruv, you look like shit,” Eggsy says.
Merlin squints blearily at him, “Eggsy? What time is it?”
“Time for you to get to bed,” Eggsy says. “When’s the last time you slept?”
“What day is it?”
Eggsy sighs. He drags Merlin’s chair away from the desk and puts a hand on his shoulder, “Come on. Bedtime for scary tech wizards.”
Merlin shudders under his hand, and Eggsy sees the way his jaw clenches, a sign he’s learned to recognize these past few weeks as Merlin fighting to hold back tears. He pulls Merlin up and draws him into a full, tight hug. “It’s gonna be okay,” he says.
Merlin clings to him, and the tears start rolling, “I miss him so much.”
“I know.”
***
Merlin can’t stop touching Harry, which would be a lot more amusing if Harry didn’t feel guilty over being the cause of his partner’s touch-starvation. He and Merlin are curled up in bed together, his partner humming as he sketches out designs for a more advanced set of prosthetics on his tablet. His free hand is wrapped around Harry, skating up and down his arm.
“You’re staring at me again,” Merlin says softly.
Harry startles. “Sorry,” he says. “Just thinking.”
“What about?”
“You’re such a tactile person. These past two years must have been hell.”
“Well,” Merlin says, “Eggsy did figure out pretty quickly that I liked to be hugged. Roxy did it sometimes too. Not often, mind. I’m their superior, and I am twice their age.”
“You’re a friend,” Harry says in understanding.
“I did miss you, though. Can’t exactly cuddle a twenty-something agent like I can my partner.”
“Fair enough.”
***
Merlin loves weddings. Everyone is happy, and often that means everyone is hugging, and he’s allowed to have his arm around Harry in public and no one thinks it’s strange that he wants so much contact with his partner, practically dragging Harry onto his lap at every opportunity. Everyone just assumes that weddings get to lovers, and it makes everyone a little bit more connected.
Eggsy keeps running up to him, light as a bubble, and throwing his arms around Merlin, exclaiming, “I can’t believe I’m married!” It’s great.
Michelle even did it once, hugged him and Harry in turns, thanking them for looking after Eggsy over the past few years. Merlin’s not sure he deserves that, because most of the time it felt like the other way around, but it’s a happy day and he doesn’t want to contradict her. Harry doesn’t either.
Most people have gone by now, just a handful of Eggsy’s closest friends left. He and Tilde aren’t leaving for their honeymoon until tomorrow, so they’re hanging around watching videos on the great big projector someone had set up at the reception. Merlin and Harry are seated together on a bench, Harry with one leg thrown over Merlin’s and an arm around him, his head on Merlin’s shoulder. Roxy is relaxing on Merlin’s other side, their legs brushing slightly. Eggsy and Tilde are on the floor, Eggsy leaning back so Harry’s leg and one of Merlin’s prosthetics are supporting him, his head resting against Merlin’s knee, and Tilde is pressed against Merlin’s other prosthetic and Roxy’s nearer leg. The newlyweds have their hands laced together over Merlin’s foot, and although he can’t actually feel it, the metal is sensitive to pressure, so there is some degree of sensation, and he loves it. He’s surrounded by his favourite people in the world.