Chapter Text
Arthur felt like he was glowing. He didn’t know if it was the aftermath of Merlin’s magic or the ever-lingering feeling of desire that coursed through him, but he felt positively golden. When he looked at Merlin as they stood in the kitchen, chattering aimlessly about nothing in particular, he found something…different. Something that he had not seen before. He could not place it, but there was a certain fondness that had bloomed within Arthur since he’d awoken – or perhaps bloomed was not the correct word, because it felt like that feeling had always been there rather than only recently developing, and his second coming had only allowed it the chance the glow more brightly than it had before.
Either way, Arthur felt good, and he certainly did not mind that. And not even Alice’s sly, suggestive jibes at them, or Merlin’s (thankfully, subsided) stress could pull him from his bliss as his days passed with an ease and simplicity that only grew as the hours elapsed.
It had now been two whole weeks since Arthur’s arrival in the modern world, but to him, he had not noticed the time pass, feeling as if he had always lived so far in the future, surrounded by strange contraptions and noise and overwhelming heat and Merlin’s company. He’d not had any more nightmares since the first had clutched at him and dragged him from peace, though that did not stop Arthur from pulling Merlin into his embrace each night and falling asleep with him pressed against his chest. It made him feel better, too, even if Merlin insisted that he could not hug away all of his troubles (Arthur would still try, regardless), and they soon settled into a nice rhythm of lazy days and laughter.
Their passion for one another had continued steadfastly, too, and, much to Arthur’s surprise, was not unusual in the slightest for their friendship. He had never had a relationship such as this one, in which both parties acted as if they were married or something similar, but were, in fact, not. It was certainly unusual, but Arthur enjoyed it endlessly; he’d wondered if he might let Merlin know this fact, that he was perfectly and foreseeably happy, but he could not find the words. No, instead, his feelings manifested through tight-fisted hands and desperate licks, gentle touches and murmured comforts. He did not mind that, Arthur supposed, but it made him wonder what he might say, if the time truly called for it.
And although their…arrangement did not drive a wedge between their friendship, it did not make Arthur's desire to kiss Merlin any less overwhelming. It lingered each time they brushed hands, every quiet gasp of shared breath, tugging at the edges of Arthur’s resolve and telling his greedy mind that it would be okay, if only Merlin had not seemed so opposed to it.
He had not said so in as many words, but Arthur knew that Merlin had reservations about kissing; he could not tell of it was because of the intimacy of it (although, Arthur begged to note that some other things they had done were far more intimate, but he digressed), if it was something about Arthur himself, or something else entirely that made Merlin pull back, that encouraged him only to kiss around his lips, frustratingly close to where Arthur so wanted them, but never truly there.
He did not spend long wondering why that might be, or why Merlin’s lips called to him so. Perhaps he thought it was simply the done thing when one was engaging in such activities, and that was why Arthur wished to press their mouths together, to taste Merlin more when he had tasted him in so many other places before. Arthur could not fathom broaching the subject – as was abundantly obvious to himself and everyone else, words were not his strong point, and he could not conceptualise a way to ask such a question coherently, as well as not sounding like a complete, self-absorbed idiot.
Merlin, why won’t you kiss me? I don’t understand why you don’t want to kiss me. I want to kiss you…will you kiss me?
No, that was inconceivable, and utterly pathetic, even for Arthur, and he realised that he could not discuss it, not yet. And of course, he would not push Merlin, even though the thought did push at his mind, just about every second of the day-
Whatever. It did not matter. Not that much, anyways. He dispelled the mental melee and refocussed his energy on the scene before him: Merlin lounging lazily against the side, and Alice flitting around the kitchen busily, as if preparing for something. Arthur himself sat in a tall chair at the strange, half-table that separated the kitchen from the rest of the living area. The seat swivelled around, and Arthur smiled at the small joy it brought him.
And now, lingering in the kitchen while Alice chattered on about the entertaining details of her day, Arthur felt that same, golden feeling flutter over him and settle deeply in his bones. He’d thought, for a moment, that perhaps that feeling was his proximity to Merlin, who stood fidgetingly beside him, jumping from one foot to the other and out of the way each time Alice needed to grab something, and that it was his magic that was suffusing Arthur with his happiness. But then he’d wondered why it hadn’t been as present before, since Merlin had always had magic, so he dismissed the thought without much more consideration.
Alice flitted past Merlin once more, reaching for a cup she’d discarded on the side, and he tripped over his own feet, stumbling towards the chair that Arthur sat in. Without a second thought, Arthur reached out a hand and pulled Merlin closer to him, gripping loosely with his fingers (Merlin did not need much encouragement to be manhandled these days, Arthur had grown to realise) and situated him firmly in his lap. Merlin did not acknowledge it, simply continuing his conversation as if nothing had happened, and leaned gently against the curve of Arthur’s chest.
Arthur didn’t know what compelled him to do so – Merlin wasn’t entirely a liability on his feet, but he’d thought it necessary to pull him out of the way – and he realised a little belatedly that having Merlin sat in his lap like this was rather intimate, perhaps the type of intimacy that shied him away from kissing. It was somehow much more intimate than knowing how hot and hard Merlin’s cock felt between his lips and-
No – Arthur shook his head to dispel the thought. He couldn’t think of things like this, not when Merlin was so close. For all of its unfamiliarity, Arthur found Merlin’s proximity comforting and natural, and he didn’t want him running off after having been poked in the back by his hard-on.
It sent a strange feeling blooming through Arthur’s chest to once more touch Merlin with such gentleness, such care. Each touch they’d shared back in Camelot had been practical and useful, or brief and aggressive. Arthur didn’t know if he could count the times they’d embraced for the scarcity of them. And this…this wasn’t any of those things. This was self-serving and indulgent, greedy and satiating of the strange compulsion that Arthur felt towards Merlin’s being. Even though Alice had passed by and situated herself happily against another counter, Arthur did not let go of Merlin’s waist, instead threading his arms around him further and pulling him flush against his chest.
Moments passed, and Arthur moved to rest his chin over the pointy jut of Merlin’s shoulder, feeling a bright surge of something warm and thrilling flow through him at the way Merlin’s chin brushed against his cheek.
Arthur could barely spare the brain power to notice how Merlin might have been feeling as they half-embraced, but he doubted it was anything bad. Merlin’s own hands now sat above Arthur’s, and he rested his head more heavily against Arthur’s after having knocked it a few times in his animated conversation with Alice.
Merlin turned his head as Alice pottered around the kitchen, and it felt impossibly instinctive for Arthur to nudge his nose against the exposed column of his neck, soaking up the cool chill of his soft skin. When he did so, there was no underlying sizzle of heat, no bubbling desire that threatened to boil him over, but instead warm, quiet comfort. Arthur ached for more, and he wrapped his arms perpetually tighter around Merlin’s slender waist. He smiled, and closed his eyes to the gentleness of it all.
If Alice weren’t in the room with them, Arthur might have allowed himself to press a soft kiss to the crook of skin where Merlin’s slender neck gave way to his broader shoulder, but he resisted the urge. Instead, he withdrew his prying nose in place of his cheek, but he did not miss the way Merlin’s breath huffed out from his lips in disappointment. He listened in on their conversation to keep himself from grinning too much.
“I’m not too sure if I will,” Alice shrugged. “Work's been busy recently; I don’t know if I’ll have the energy for a Jackson party.”
Arthur’s ears quirked upwards at the mention of another party. He had not entirely minded the one Merlin hosted the other week, but it had been loud and hot and filled with people he obviously did not know. But then, he had rather liked the warm, fuzzy feeling that the modern alcohol had settled over him, and the ease that it brought to his conversations with people. The thought reminded Arthur of his tender moment with Merlin that they had shared in the kitchen, not too far from where they were sat now, and he could not help but smile.
“I don’t blame you for that,” Merlin responded, his voice vibrating through his back and into Arthur’s chest. “What do you think?”
Arthur shrugged also, wrapping his arms somehow tighter around Merlin’s waist under the pretence of making sure he did not fall from his lap in the process of conveying his indecision. “I don’t mind, really. I quite liked the other one.”
“We’ll see who else is going before we decide.” Merlin mused over their options, and shrugged also. “How do you feel about a little coffee shop trip?”
Arthur smiled and nodded, realising suddenly that he was rather hungry. “Sure. Just no coffee.”
Merlin laughed fondly, his lips turned downwards in a smile that made Arthur’s blood fizz beneath his skin. “No coffee,” he nodded firmly like it had been an order, and moved to slide off from Arthur’s lap. He frowned at this, but did not keep Merlin longer.
They said vague goodbyes to Alice, who was readying herself for a picnic with Sophie, and the notion tugged at Arthur. That could be nice, he mused, to spend some time with Merlin outside of the house. He lingered on the thought, but it was not fully formed by the time they had retreated back to Merlin’s room to grab some things for them to leave the house.
Merlin shuddered at the brisk wind blowing through the open window as they entered, and leapt comically onto the bed, rolling dramatically around until he was wrapped entirely in the rumpled duvet. Arthur, despite the endearing nature of Merlin’s complaints, frowned.
He approached Merlin and tugged annoyingly at the exposed leg of his trousers. “Get up,”
“No,” Merlin’s voice was muffled beneath the blankets, but he could hear the laughter in it. “Never.”
“Merlin,” Arthur grumbled, tugging harder. “Get your outside clothes off our be- the bed. The bed. Get off.” He stammered, face flushing hotly as he promptly dropped Merlin’s leg and hoped beyond hope that he had not heard his stumble.
Our bed.
The words sent a shudder of humiliation down Arthur’s spine, but he could not ignore the way it felt edged with something tender, something…hopeful. He had not even been here for an entire month yet, but Arthur felt so acclimated into Merlin’s world that he could not differentiate between what was Merlin’s and what was his. It was a nice thought, if Arthur ignored the embarrassment that seemed to take charge, and distracted himself from hopeless dreaming by kicking off his trousers to change into ones that didn’t cling so much to his legs.
Behind him, he did not take notice of Merlin’s response, but he did hear the shuffling of bedsheets that indicated he had risen from his bundle. Arthur wished to turn around, to see the way Merlin’s hair would undoubtedly be mussed and tangled from his playfulness, to see the cruel smirk that he knew would be there because he had likely heard Arthur’s (accidental?) words. He did not turn as he first bent down to snatch up a fresh set of trousers, but he could not help the way he shot immediately back upright when he felt the crisp, not-quite painful sting of a slap to his backside.
He swung around, eyes wild, and found Merlin, of course, with a wicked smile across his lips, walking away with a confident, swinging arm and guilty, flexing fingers. Arthur’s cheeks flushed once more, but he could not tell what for this time, and he doubted it was all from embarrassment.
They made quick, and quiet, work of getting ready, although admittedly, Arthur was the only one who made any changes to his appearance, and soon enough they were out of the door. Immediately, Arthur gripped at Merlin’s hand, and he made no acknowledgement of the new way his fingers interlocked between Merlin’s, rather than the simple way their palms had slotted together before. Arthur did not know what prompted him to do so, but he found no fault in it, and clutched tighter as their walk took them through winding gaggles of townsfolk.
It was not long until they had made it to the coffee shop that Merlin had claimed he often frequented on the way, and Arthur nodded along amiably until they faced a green-painted building with large, smudgy, glass windows along the front. It was not particularly busy, so they stepped through the threshold quickly, surveying the other patrons and selection of sweet cakes they had on display. They made it closer to the counter, and Arthur noted something immensely displeasing.
Behind the low table was a man, ugly and sickly looking, and it took everything in Arthur to not grip Merlin’s hand tighter and turn on his heel, heading for the door. It was all too late for them to make a swift and brisk exit, so he settled a steely expression across his face, and tried half-heartedly not to grimace as they walked further into the shop.
“Adam!” Merlin smiled as he approached the counter, and Arthur gripped his hand a little bit tighter. “I didn’t know you were working today?”
Adam’s dark eyes brightened as he took in Merlin, dragging slowly from his face downwards. He lingered for a moment at his neck and further down until his narrowed eyes widened slightly at the way Merlin’s fingers were interlocked with Arthur’s, his thumb rubbing gently back and forth. Instinctively, Arthur wrapped his spare hand around Merlin’s forearm, pulling him closer.
“Merlin, hi.” He gave him a sly smile. “What can I get for you?”
Merlin smiled and responded with a few words that Arthur didn’t entirely understand, and Adam began pottering around behind the counter he stood at. Arthur tried not to flinch when something big and metal started hissing, and a small cup began filling slowly with water.
“I saw Jackson the other day,” Adam spoke over the noise. “He’s having another party next week, you know. You should come.”
“Yeah, yeah,” Merlin said politely. “I was just chatting to Alice about that, actually. We’re not sure if we’re going to come or not.”
“Shame,” he said, though he did not sound very convincing. Adam looked up at Merlin through his eyebrows, making a sceptical sort of expression, like he was plotting something. He looked every bit as unappealing as he had the first time Arthur had seen him. Adam did not look at Arthur while he spoke his next words: “He, uh, he said that he met your boyfriend, Merlin? I didn’t realise-”
“Hello,” Arthur interrupted, and stuck out his spare hand to shake Adam’s. “I’m Arthur.”
Adam’s expression fell, and he did a bad job of trying to conceal his very apparent disgust and disappointment. He gaped his mouth open and shut for a few moments, and pointedly did not take Arthur’s outstretched hand, reaching instead for something he found on the counter to look busy. His eyes held something akin to fury, and it pleased Arthur greatly to see his discomfort. Finally, he nodded stiffly and offered up a tight-lipped smile. From beside him, Arthur heard Merlin snicker quietly as he dropped his hand back down to his side, jabbing his elbow rather conspicuously into his side.
“Right,” he said, shaking his head and turning back to Merlin. “Why don’t you come next week, Merlin? It’ll be so much fun, and we haven’t hung out together in ages.”
Arthur resisted the urge to mutter, 'not true,' under his breath, and set his gaze upon Adam, heavy and pointed.
“I mean, I’m not…” Merlin stuttered over an excuse, scratching the back of his neck awkwardly. “I don’t know if…”
“He said we’re not sure if we’re going to come.” Arthur supplemented tightly.
Adam still did not look away from Merlin, though he bristled somewhat at Arthur’s words. “But I’ll miss you if you don’t come to Jackson’s. Maybe we could hang out again soon. Just us.”
Arthur had to steel himself so as not to laugh in Adam’s face in incredulity. He did not need to look to the side to know that Merlin was flushing at his insistence, he could sense it in the way his hand tightened its grip on Arthur’s. It was a feat to not smirk at the way Adam’s cocky façade cracked slightly.
Merlin sent a rigid smile across the counter and nodded noncommittally. “Yeah, maybe, I’ll- uh, I’ll see when I’m free.”
“Great,” Adam beamed back like he had been told some wonderful news, and the change in tone from whiny to pleasant seemed to be all Merlin needed to return back to his usual self. Adam mumbled something about another mutual friend, Arthur assumed, and Merlin chatted back good-naturedly, until he glanced around the shop, an uncomfortable expression on his face.
“Where are the toilets?” He asked, and despite the nature of his words, Arthur smiled warmly at the sound of his unsure voice.
Adam gestured vaguely to the back of the shop, behind some haphazardly discarded chairs, wiry hair falling over his forehead as he turned.
“I’ll be back in a sec,” Merlin said to both of them, and walked off in the direction of the lavatory.
Arthur watched him leave, eyes following each step until he could no longer see his tousled head of hair, and reluctantly faced the counter once more.
Adam had a sour look on his face, something between a laugh and a grimace, and Arthur could not help the way he raised his eyebrows in question. Adam laughed then, hands working slowly with whatever he was making, and he kept on looking up at Arthur like something was amusing him.
“So, you’re really Merlin’s boyfriend?”
Arthur did not miss the sheer incredulity in his tone, and nodded firmly. “Yes,”
He snickered, and did an exaggerated job of failing to cover it up. “Right,”
Arthur bristled. “Right? Is there a problem?”
“No, no problem, I didn’t think that Merlin…did relationships.” His voice was edged with a bitterness that indicated he was fully aware of Merlin’s refusal of his advances, despite his trying; the thought sent a sliver of disgust down Arthur’s spine.
“Well,” Arthur shrugged. “Maybe you don’t know him that well.”
“No, I think I do.” Adam laughed again, shaking his head. “I just didn’t think that Merlin would go out with someone so…”
“So?” Arthur tried to school his features into neutrality with little success.
“So blonde,”
Arthur tried hard to decipher Adam’s words but couldn’t find the sense in them, but he could tell from the sneer in his tone that Adam was hardly complimenting him. He wanted to say something equally as scathing back, but his mind came up blank, and Adam beat him to it.
“But he’s never really been the sharpest tool in the shed himself, though, has he?” Adam laughed again, and something dark flashed in his eyes.
“Excuse me?”
“God,” Adam sighed in exaggerated exasperation. “You’re both so dim.”
Adam put the finishing touches on Merlin’s drink, sprinkling something powdery on top, then unceremoniously shoved it across the counter to Arthur.
“I mean,” he said slowly, as if talking to a child. “He-is-stu-pid. It’s a wonder he even found his way here today, lugging a half-wit like you around with him. Although, I guess like calls to like.”
Something white hot and all-encompassing surged up in Arthur’s chest at the cocky smirk on Adam’s face, who was clearly amused by Arthur’s outrage. He opened his mouth to give his rebuttal, but to his dual relief and disappointment, he spotted Merlin emerging from behind a door, a placid smile across his face. With carefully restrained anger, Arthur picked up his own drink and removed the lid, taking a quick sip as Merlin joined him at his side.
“Thanks!” Merlin said, all too cheerfully for Arthur’s stony expression. Adam sent him an oily grin back, his face the picture of satisfaction. "How much?"
Adam shook his head. "On the house,"
Merlin's grin doubled in size, and he professed his gratitude to Adam. He sent a look to Arthur. “You ready?”
“Of course, just one second.” He replied, then promptly dumped the contents of his cup down the front of Adam’s apron.
Immediately, he jumped back, hissing and cursing at the temperature. He sent Arthur a furious look. “You arsehole!”
Arthur allowed himself a quick, indulgent smile at the chaos before he picked up Merlin’s drink and grabbed his hand, careful to not spill that too, and made for the door. He pushed past the few other customers behind them in line and made it out onto the street, Merlin getting dragged behind him, keeping up their pace until they turned a corner and caught their breath.
“Arthur!” Merlin’s voice was shrill and he was panting slightly. “What was that?”
Arthur handed Merlin his drink with a smile. “What was what?”
“That! You, dumping your drink down Adam! For what?” Merlin’s eyes were wild, but he took the cup regardless, brushing fingers lightly. Arthur felt a thrill of excitement run though his body as a small smile broke across his lips.
“He deserved it,” Arthur shrugged, and paid no mind to Merlin’s confused spluttering. He reached for his hand again to allow him to lead the way home, but before he could, a noise behind him halted his movements.
“Hey!”
Arthur turned around at the voice and was promptly met with the butt of Adam’s fist connecting with his nose. Arthur staggered at the contact, stumbling and almost falling to the ground before Merlin caught him, steadying him with strong hands. He gasped at the suddenness of it all, not yet feeling the throbbing sensations that would likely ensue in the minutes to come. He glanced quickly at Merlin, and his eyes were even wilder than before as he half-held him up.
By the time Arthur had righted himself, Adam had already taken off down the street, shaking out his offending hand and scurrying in a walk that was slightly too brisk to be considered normal and fear-free. Arthur scoffed at his retreating figure and held a hand to his nose, feeling the warm seep of blood trickle down his fingers.
“Arthur!” Merlin’s hand was cradling his face, gentle fingers swiping away stray splatters of blood. “Are you okay?”
Arthur hissed at the touch, but leaned into it all the same, nodding. Merlin’s hand stroked a caress across his cheek like he was going to lean in, and Arthur felt them flame at the movement, dazed momentarily until Merlin removed it to hold firm hand at Arthur’s neck, patting him. “Let’s get you home.”
Arthur nodded slowly once more and allowed Merlin to lead him down the street and away from the curious eyes of onlookers. He wasn’t sure how long it took to get home, but somehow, they made it in what felt like a matter of minutes, and Arthur found himself being pushed down onto Merlin’s sofa.
Arthur was quiet for a while, his head now aching as Merlin mumbled something and briefly vanished, returning once more with a small, clear box in his hand. He sat himself next to Arthur, their legs pressed up tightly as Merlin turned to face him.
“Oh, Arthur.” Merlin reprimanded, but there was no real sternness in his voice. “You’re such – you’re such a knight, getting into a petty fight after being here for so little time. It’s like you attract it. Or it’s attracted to you.”
Merlin laughed, but Arthur didn’t return it. Somehow, now sobered from his rage, the whole affair did not seem so entertaining. Merlin opened the box and pulled out a white piece of cloth, dabbing at the smeared blood that coated his top lip.
“Is it natural for you?” Merlin teased, “Or did you train to become a violence magnet? I swear, it’s like you can’t live without it. And what even for? One minute, you’re making small talk, then I come back from the toilet and you’re dumping your drink on him! I tell you, there’s something-”
“He called you stupid,” Arthur interrupted, voice uncharacteristically quiet, even to his own ears.
Merlin’s laughter faltered. “What?”
“We weren’t making small talk,” Arthur admitted, hating the way Merlin shrunk back at his words. “He was insulting you.”
“Oh,”
The word stabbed a fresh bout of outrage for Merlin through Arthur’s chest and he grimaced. When he looked up, he found an uneasy, trying smile on his face.
“Well, I’m sure he was joking?”
“He wasn’t,” Arthur flinched at his own words. “He called you stupid.”
Merlin bristled uncomfortably, and tried to hide the way he grimaced. “You call me stupid all the time.”
“He was being so horrible to you, I-I couldn’t just let him do that.” Arthur’s heart was heavy. “I just wish I had the idea to punch him first.”
Merlin didn’t say anything back for a long minute, and Arthur wondered fretfully if he’d made things worse.
“Really?” Merlin’s voice was still quiet when it broke the silence.
“I’m sorry,” he sighed. “It must be hard to hear that from someone you thought was your friend-”
“You did that for me?” Merlin interrupted.
Arthur was slightly taken aback by the small smile that teased at Merlin’s mouth. “Uh, yes?”
Merlin’s lips stuttered around a sigh, and he suddenly surged forward, trapping Arthur in a tight embrace. And it was perfect, Merlin’s arms around him, the soft way he cradled the back of his head, the quiet way he expressed his gratitude. Arthur smiled and pulled Merlin closer, ignoring the throbbing pain in his head and replacing it with the cool press of Merlin’s skin. He did not wish to pull away, and it seemed that Merlin did not wish to, either, but the position was a bit awkward, and soon enough his back began to ache at the angle. Slowly, they separated, and Arthur was met with a bashful smile.
“Thank you,” he said quietly.
Arthur tried not to show the swell of pride that grew within him. “That’s okay,”
Merlin resumed his gentle dabbing at the blood on Arthur’s face and made quick work of patching him up, turning to discard the bloodied cloths to the side and returning with a sympathetic look.
“Does it hurt?”
Arthur shrugged. “I’ve had worse.”
Merlin seemed to blush slightly, and he dipped his chin so his eyes were avoidant of Arthur’s. “You’re very brave.”
Arthur laughed, though not cruelly. “I hardly did anything. But I could not let him talk bad about you; you do not deserve it.”
Merlin slowly raised his head, watching closely for a moment at Arthur’s reddened, but thankfully not (more) crooked nose. “Should I kiss it better?”
Arthur’s heart fell through his stomach at the indescribable edge to Merlin’s words, and he briefly cursed Adam for not aiming lower. He surprised himself with the immediacy of his reply, nodding dazedly. “Please.”
Merlin nodded, too, and leaned in closer. He was slow with his movements, and Arthur wondered distantly what might happen if he tipped his chin upwards and caught Merlin’s approaching lips with his own. He did not breath as Merlin came closer, and Arthur felt the strange urge to close his eyes. He did, and soon felt the cool press of Merlin’s perfect lips against the very tip of Arthur’s nose.
It was quick, and chaste, and far too light to be considered a real kiss, but it sent shockwaves of the most unadulterated pleasure Arthur had ever felt through his body. He knew for a fact that his cheeks were flaming, he could feel them, fiery and hot, but he could not find it in himself to care – not when Merlin looked back at him with the same, pink-dusted cheeks, a small, coy smile across his lips.
Arthur did not know what to say, and he felt bothered for a minute that he was embarrassing himself. But he need not have worried for long, because a small laugh escaped Merlin’s lips, and Arthur sent him a questioning look.
“I’m surprised,” he said, voice melodic and perfect.
“By what?”
Merlin shrugged. “I just didn’t think you’d so something like that – something so…unchivalrous.”
“Unchivalrous?” Arthur scoffed incredulously, lips pulled apart in a smile. “Unchivalrous to who? I was defending your honour.”
“No, I know that.” Merlin smiled. “And I appreciate it.”
Arthur felt his heart squeeze at Merlin’s gratitude and distantly made a mental note to receive it more often somehow. “So what?”
“So, I mean – I thought you’d, I don’t know, challenge him to a duel, or something more your speed.” Merlin shrugged, and his blush returned full force. “Settle things ‘like men’ or whatever.”
Arthur laughed, shaking his head. “I wouldn’t stoop so low as to challenge a man like him.”
Merlin returned his joviality, and watched him with something indiscernible in his eye. It lingered for a moment, and then it became replaced with his usual laughter. “You’re right; men these days have no nobility, no sense of honour.”
“I didn’t realise that was something you so looked for in a man,” Arthur said without thinking. After the words had left his mouth, his eyes widened at the implications of his phrasing, and he dropped his eyes away from Merlin’s. Once again, that unusual glint took up place in Merlin’s eyes, and Arthur ached to understand it, to unravel him completely, to learn his every expression. Merlin must have felt the heaviness of the moment between them, because he banished it with an easy laugh.
“Your knight reflexes might need polishing, though,” he muttered, a smirk across his lips. "You hardly knew what was happening until you were in a pile on the floor."
Arthur pretended to look outraged as he swiped a hand at Merlin; he ducked, and Arthur missed hitting him around the head by a fraction. He grasped at him again, but Merlin dodged, rising to his feet and in the direction of his (their? Arthur was still unsure on the categorisation) bedroom. He waited on the sofa for a moment, watching Merlin flee, until his voice beckoned him.
“Arthur?” There was that edge to it again. “Come here.”
He did not have to be told twice.