Posted originally on the Archive of Our Own at http://archiveofourown.org/works/317898.

Rating:
Explicit
Archive Warning:
Choose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Category:
M/M
Fandom:
Merlin (TV)
Relationship:
Merlin/Arthur Pendragon, Guinevere/Lancelot du Lac
Character:
Morgana, Mordred (Arthurian), Gaius (Merlin), Uther Pendragon, Will
(Merlin)
Additional Tags:
Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Friends to Lovers, Magic, Podfic
Welcome
Stats:
Published: 2012-01-11 Completed: 2012-02-12 Chapters: 18/18
Words: 65453
Ashes, Embers, Flames
by unpossible
Summary
Merlin sees him across a crowded living room and promptly spills his beer down the back
of the couch and over some hapless strangers neck.
Notes
So I was recently contacted by the lovely Bel Desconneau, who let me know that she has
fashioned a completely fabulous e-book cover for this story. It's gorgeous, and I'd like to
thank her very much for such a lovely addition to Ashes. You can find the cover here
http://pics.livejournal.com/bel_desconneau/gallery/00004h9w
Chapter 1

Merlin sees him across a crowded living room and promptly spills his beer down the back of the
couch and over some hapless strangers neck. Sorry sorry! First he mops ineffectually at the
blokes collar, then raises his hands slowly and backs away, reading the body language quite
clearly. Really sorry. The guy rises from the couch, shakes his head in irritation and turns away,
headed for the bathroom.
Right, Merlin says to himself and retires to a dimly lit corner. Just the usual, then. One disaster
to another.
He sneaks another glimpse at The Guy and swallows.
Bloody gorgeous. Aloof. And alone. How is that happening?
And then he watches. A tiny brunette trips over to him, captivating dimples appearing as she
speaks. Introducing herself, looks like. The Guy leans in, listening politely, lets a small curve
appear at the corner of his luscious mouth.
Hi, Merlin fills in the blanks for himself, instantly depressed. Im adorable, funny and extremely
talented in bed. Youre clearly the hottest piece of arse in this room, possibly in all of London.
How about you and I do all the ordinary bastards a favour and remove ourselves from the dating
pool?
The Guy makes a brief reply. Probably, Yes, I can see the logic of your argument. It would be
wrong of me to remain single too long. Or, Merlin tries to be fair, possibly its his name.
The dimples deepen and she slants a glance up into his face. Your parents would love me, and I
am absolutely up for a threesome at some point in the future when weve established enough trust.
Fatalistic, Merlin waits to see The Guy snap her up. Instead he gives a kind of one-shoulder shrug
and speaks for a little longer this time. Hes drunk enough that for one minute he imagines its
Listen, I should tell you, while I absolutely have a thing for willowy brunettes, what Im actually
after is a pale, clumsy type with a penis.
But probably not. Still, whatever it is, its a good brush-off. The brunette makes a kind of oh-well
sad face and shrugs, then goes on her merry way.
Merlin blinks. Okay. Theres only two brush-offs that work that neatly. One is the Im married
and shes standing right behind you type, and the other is, I play for the other team.
Oh man, like that was what he needed - faint hope.
Who are you stalking now, Emrys?
He turns swiftly. Nobody. Just watching the world go by, you know. He meets Wills amused
eyes and painstakingly does not glance over to The Guy.
Mm-hmm.
So wheres Edwin?
Finishing up his last-minute shite at the office.
Merlin doesnt grimace. Hes a supportive friend. Gah.
Will, of course, sees right through him. I know you dont get it, he says, soft and serious. But
Ive honestly never been this happy.
He relents immediately. I know that. I do. It was the only consolation he had in the middle of
the whole mess. Will was centred now. More confident. Whatever the hell it was Edwin had, it
was exactly what Will had needed all these years. It was just a little disconcerting to see your
childhood friend your best friend - fall head over heels for a buttoned-down risk management
specialist. Whatever the hell that was.
So how are things with the new flatmate? I was tempted to drop over and give him some clues on
surviving the Emrys experience, then I decided some things only made sense after actual, bitter
experience.
Merlin grimaced before he could catch himself. Um.
What. Will is already bracing himself for drama.
He bailed.
What?
Yeah. Um. Broke both his wrists falling out of a cab, apparently. Cant play guitar, no money,
so... He had to go back to Glasgow and move in with his parents.
So- what are you doing, then? Will face was full of concern. He knew Merlin couldnt make the
full rent much longer Listen, why dont you let me-
No, he says firmly. Youre not paying for a room you no longer live in.
Merlin, it wouldnt-
No, Will.
Dont be stupid. We both know Edwin doesnt need any contributions from me, and I moved out
with almost no notice, so-
And you paid the next two weeks anyway. Weve been over this. Youre not going to bloody
pay rent for a place in London when youre living in Zurich. No.
Will sighs, clearly recognizing the stubborn note in Merlins voice. Sometimes there were
advantages to being friends your whole life. Theres a kind of shorthand, I mean it like I meant it
about the boat when we were ten.
So whats the plan, then?
Merlin shrugs. He really doesnt want to go into this. He glances across the room just in time to
see The Guy fend off another advance. This time its Terence, the concierge from Gwens hotel.
Again, he gets the hapless wooer to back off, though this time Terence lingers and tries a few
more lines, then gives a little shrug that says maybe next time. Or possibly, Ill try again when
youve had some tequila shots and your guard is down.
In-ter-est-ing.
A warm hand cups his shoulder. Merlin.
He sighs and glances back at Will. A rueful smile tugs at his mouth. Ill figure something out, he
says, answering the worry on his face rather than the question.
Wills frown deepens, and he feels a sudden rush of love and affection. He sets his beer down on
the telephone table without looking and Will nudges it back from the edge without missing a beat,
saving both their jeans from a dunking.
Merlin reaches up to cup Wills face in his hands. I love you, you prat, he says, and he can feel
the movement under his fingers as Will swallows. And I will be fine without you watching over
me. All right?
For a moment neither of them moves. Will is fighting back tears, but he manages a smile. All
right, he says simply, and the hug is long, heartfelt, and silent.
Im glad you found your Edwin, Merlin eventually whispers in his ear, and for once hes not
rolling his eyes at all. Even if he is going to turn you into yuppie Eurotrash.
Fuck you, Will snorts, arms tight.
Matching chocolate Labradors, Merlin adds, fingers gripping tight for a second, a subscription
to Gourmet Traveller.
The laugh bubbles out of Will and he straightens. Well always be us, Merlin, he whispers.
Whatever happens, you and me will always be.
I know, he says, and hes blinking back tears too because a few years ago, it hadnt looked like
that would ever be true again. His hand has trailed down to rest at Wills hip, and they both feel
the vibration of his phone at the same time. He manages a wobbly smile. Edwin?
Will tilts the screen up and nods, his smile a little shaky too. Hes picking me up. Straight to the
airport from here. He inclines his head toward the window and they both glance out at the Jag as
it pulls up.
You all packed? He feels Will nod but doesnt glance away from the car. Erik gets out and
rounds the car, then hesitates, obviously catching a glimpse of them through the window. In his
peripheral vision he sees Will raise a hand in a wave, and Edwin pauses, then leans back against
the car, hands sinking into his coat pockets, waiting.
Okay, Merlin says. He swallows hard and draws a long breath, preparing.
This time when he turns back hes really smiling. Not going to send Will away with a big scene.
Its not easy, especially when Will cups his face in his hands and kisses him once, firm and loving
and all the years behind them filling up the spaces. But something in Merlins chest unfurls at the
realization that Will can still love him like this, even with Edwin looking on.
Its going to be okay. Distance will be a new thing, but theyll adjust.
You already said goodbye to Gwen? Will nods, stubble scratching against his cheek. All
right, he finally says, squeezing Wills arm. Go on then.
Will just nods, lips pressed tightly together. Their eyes meet one more time, and then hes gone.
Merlin doesnt watch him make his way to the front door, instead he turns and stares out through
the window.
Edwin meets his eyes, steady and calm, then his attention flicks to the front door and his face
changes, like someone turned on the Christmas lights. Watching him watch Will, Merlin takes a
deep, satisfying breath.
They meet by the car, a sweet, casual touch of hands, and both glance his way. He raises his own
hand, feeling oddly like hes blessing them, like some ancient pagan priest, yeah, presiding over
their gay druid wedding and the thought makes him laugh to himself. And he sees the tension go
out of Will, at that.
The Jag pulls away and its a wrench, but when he steps away from the window hes feeling
oddly light.


He drifts to the edges of a group and chats lightly, and when he glances over to the corner The
Guy is gone. Right. Not like he had any kind of shot. But, you know. Wouldve been nice to hear
his voice.
He lopes into the kitchen a few minutes later, seeking food, and hes scooping unidentified dip
onto a corn chip when he spots The Guy, clearly trying to say his farewells to Gwen.
Shes shaking her head, implacable, and the gentle hint of a smile on his face as he stares down at
her is lovely. On a long breath in, Merlin focuses on The Guys wrist, a narrow line of skin visible
beside one of those wide leather cuffs that also forms the band of his watch. Damn. Even his
wrists are hot.
Merlin shifts to make room for someone bearing a bottle of scotch and four glasses, and it brings
him within hearing range, though he carefully turns a shoulder so as not to be caught watching.
Gwens far too observant.
just for a few minutes. Theres someone I wanted you to meet.
Gwen, honestly- he says, and Merlin takes a slow breath. Nice voice. Calm and low. Accent in
the upper-crusty range.
There Merlin.
He blinks. Then he turns slowly on the spot toward Gwen. Um? he says, eyes wide.
Come here, she gestures. I wanted to introduce you to an old friend of mine.
He takes two short steps forward, feeling like hes about to fall down the rabbit hole. He cant
even begin to guess why Gwen would want to introduce him to- Um.
This is Arthur Fitzroy. Arthur, this is Merlin Emrys.
Merlin, the golden god says, and offers a hand to shake.
Merlin almost hands him his beer, then catches himself in time to switch the bottle to his left hand
and shakes like a fricking grown-up. He catches Gwens half-suppressed grin from the corner of
one eye. Lovely to meet you, he says helplessly, and watches those blue eyes widen.
Oh bollocks. Arthur is still gorgeous, even up close. Was it too much to hope for that hed have at
least one flaw? Horrible acne scars, anyone? Perhaps he sounds like a donkey when he laughs.
Theres a momentary pause, and he glances over at Gwen, suddenly realizing why shes doing
this. She knows Will just left, and wants to distract him. He grins at her in sudden, warm affection.
Arthur shifts at his side and opts for a conventional opener. A reluctant party guest, but not rude.
So how do you two know each other?
Oh, Merlin and his boss are regulars at the auctions, Gwen provides carelessly, squeezing
Merlins hand for just a moment, a wordless you okay?
Yes, Merlin says, squeezing back fine so far, and Gwen terrifies all of us into submission with
her clipboard. Its not easy getting the antiquary nuts and the investors to all assemble in one spot
without bloodshed. Last week there were very nearly fisticuffs over the provenance of a Toby
jug.
So which are you?
Merlin raises his brows in enquiry, then backtracks through his own sentences. Oh. Nutter.
Definitely.
Gwen laughs. Merlin works for one of the smaller, independent valuers. But hes got an amazing
eye, according to, well, everyone, actually.
Gaius talks me up, Merlin says, flushing a little and taking a deep drink of his beer. It makes
the firm look good.
Gwen shakes her head at him and then catches sight of something just past his shoulder. Oh
crap. I told them not to- here. She shoves her drink into Merlins hand and snatches away his
now-empty beer before charging past, off to fight dragons in her living room.
So how did you get started in antiques? Arthur asks. Hes no longer trying to edge toward the
door, his manners are truly excellent, and Merlin gives him a lot of credit for not just bailing the
minute he was out of Gwens line of sight. Not that he needs any extra credit.
Mm, he shrugs, Well, I did a lot of extremely impractical classes like Art History at uni and,
sadly enough, I ghost around antique shops in my spare time. Ive always liked old things. Its
almost as though they talk to me, he doesnt say. Hes well aware he comes off as gawky and
weird without helping things along.
He glances up, checking for boredom-glazed eyes, but Arthur looks genuinely interested so he
kept going. One day I was at a car boot sale and I spotted something well, I thought looked like
something special. I took it to a dealer - actually, this was about the ninth time Id done that, and it
turned out I was usually right. The guy, I dunno, took a shine to me and introduced me to a friend
of his who ran an auction house. Rest is history, really.
Arthur is smiling now, like theres a joke Merlin missed. What? he says, curious.
Im a car boot sale addict, he admits. Not for antiques, though. You just
never know what youre going to find, Merlin finishes for him, and now theyre smiling at
each other.
So you spend your days among priceless works of beauty. I suppose your home is full of the
same stuff?
Merlin snorts. His home is full of unfolded laundry and stale take-away containers. Then he
sobers, reality slapping him in the face again. Actually, he says, Im on the verge of being
homeless.
Arthur pauses with his beer pressed to his lips, lowers it. Homeless.
He shrugs and leans back against the table. Well, on paper anyway. My flatmate moved out and
the replacement guy I lined up has bailed too. He catches the speculative glance and snaps, And
no, theres nothing weird going on. I am not driving them away. Will is moving to Switzerland
with his boyfriend and the new guy had an accident and had to move back home so his family
could care for him.
Those beautiful lips twitch. Oh, I never doubted it. Why not just get another flatmate, though?
Merlin sighs. Because Ive been paying double rent for longer than I can afford and I dont want
to sign a new lease without knowing I can honour it. Better to bunk on peoples couches for a
while until I can figure something else out.
Thats your plan? Its a bit inconvenient, isnt it, dragging all your stuff around?
Yeah. I dunno, Merlin says, hopeless and helpless as usual. Something will come up, I guess.
It always does.
Something might be a shitty bedsit in a street that makes him feel like hes living in 28 Days Later,
but something always comes up for Merlin. Usually at the last minute. He shrugs, philosophical
and glances over at Arthur who is still exuding a charm that appears to be innate.
No-one else you could stay with long-term? Theres something in Arthurs tone that he cant
quite place.
Merlin thinks it over. Gwens the only one besides Will hed want to live with long-term, but the
flat theyre all crammed into for tonights party is only just big enough for one. He shakes his
head. Nope.
And then Arthur glances down and to the side, a strange, rueful smile touching his lips just before
he says, I have a spare room at my place. Actually.
Theres a beat of silence.
Youre shitting me, Merlin finally says, drink frozen halfway to his lips. You are shitting me.
And Arthur shakes his head, wry, shooting a glance across the flat at Gwen that says Ill get you
for this.
Nope, he says, then shrugs. But its pretty bad. I mean, seriously. Im- its a wreck. Im
renovating the entire place. Theres no working bathroom at the moment, I have to clean my teeth
in the kitchen sink. Most of the rooms have no carpet or doors.
He looks over and blinks, probably because Merlin is seriously gaping at him like a mentally-
challenged yokel. Something will come up something always does.
Uh. He swallows. This cannot be happening. This ridiculous luck of his cannot be giving him
the chance to live under the same roof as this golden, glowing creature. Where is it?
Muswell Hill.
Now he shakes his head, still waiting for the down side. Um. Good pub there. And brilliant
location for Merlins commute.
I know, Arthur says, wry.
But how the hell does someone Arthurs age afford a place in Muswell Hill? He glances over
again and adds up the incredibly posh accent, impeccable manners and extremely well-cut jeans,
and thinks, old money. Are you- seriously, youre offering me your spare room? You just met
me.
He shrugs with one shoulder, eyes remote as they focus on the other side of the room. I trust
Gwens judgment. Besides, its not a long-term commitment. If it isnt working out for either of
us, at least it gives you time to find a better place.
Merlin nods on automatic. He cant really imagine it not working out. Hed probably agree to live
at the bottom of a lake if there was a guaranteed glimpse of Arthur amongst the reeds each
morning.
But you might want to see it before you get too excited. Im not kidding when I say its a wreck.
The reason no-one but me is living there is because its barely fit for habitation. Im in the middle
of sorting out the heating, which is getting kind of urgent. Theres constant noise and dust from
sanding and construction, water and power go on and off constantly while I sort out the plumbing
and wiring and theres a very pervasive smell of paint stripper and turpentine most days.
Wait youre actually doing the work? Oh shit, like he needed more fantasy material. Arthur
with tools in his hands, faint sheen of sweat on that skin and fierce concentration Merlin tosses
back his drink and promptly chokes, since Gwen is drinking strong vodka tonics, not beer.
Its what I do, Arthur says, This is the third property Ive renovated. So if youre considering it,
you should really check it out first. Not many people want to live that way, and itll be like that for
months.
Right. Down, boy. Well, um, Im interested. A small grin escapes him. Definitely interested.
Chapter 2
Chapter Summary
Theres Arthur, impossibly photogenic, and Merlin, always typecast as the bumbling,
quirky love interest except, of course, that Arthur is not hopelessly in love with
some anorexic cheerleader, or anyone at all, as far as he can see. And Merlin will not
be able to simply whip off his oversized glasses and ta-dah, be magically revealed as
a smokin hot piece of arse who is, coincidentally, the answer to Arthurs romantic
dreams.
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes

Merlins a little bit terrified of moving in with Arthur. Its all too perfect.
Well, Arthurs perfect. Merlins as much of a disaster as ever. And, well, the house is. Ahem.
He hadnt been sugar-coating that, certainly. Its dark and dusty and fairly shitty, though theres
clearly going to be an amazing result once its done. And well, its an entire house, so yes, trust
fund, definitely. Not a flat in a shitty block of units, not even a terrace thats been turned into
apartments. Its oddly grown-up, this transformational thing Arthur has going, like he has a sense
of responsibility far beyond any other twenty-something Merlin has ever met.
Its just sometimes this feels like some kind of glossy, this-is-how-you-want-real-life-to-look
Taylor Swift film clip. Theres Arthur, impossibly photogenic, and Merlin, always typecast as the
bumbling, quirky love interest except, of course, that Arthur is not hopelessly in love with some
anorexic cheerleader, or anyone at all, as far as he can see. Hes like a closed circuit, needing no-
one and nothing. And Merlin will not be able to simply whip off his oversized glasses and ta-dah,
be magically revealed as a smokin hot piece of arse who is, coincidentally, the answer to Arthurs
romantic dreams.
But it all feels unreal, is the point, right up until the moment where theyre struggling to get one of
Merlins very few decent possessions - an art deco mirror - up the second flight of stairs and it
somehow gets jammed up against the knob of the bathroom door.
Brothers, we should be struggling together, Merlin mutters to himself.
We are, Arthur quotes back without looking up, the laugh buried in his voice and suddenly
Merlin can breathe.
This will work. This is going to happen.
And then he gets to the top floor and sees his room. His freshly painted room, with actual carpet.
Unlike any other room in the house.
Uh, he says, why does-
Sorry if the smell of paint lingers, Arthur says, and forces Merlin into the room by the simple
tactic of not stopping. His end of the mirror just keeps on coming and shoves Merlin backwards
into the bedroom. I only finished it this morning.
They carefully leverage the thing into a spot against the wall, and then Merlin turns. Why did you
just finish this morning?
Arthur frowns, clearly confused. Um. Because I had to let the second coat of paint dry before I
could lay carpet?
No, I mean, why does my room have carpet and a beautiful paint job when yours doesnt? Hed
been happy that the room was crap. Itd seemed balanced, somehow.
If anything, Arthur gets even more nonplussed. I invited you to stay here, Merlin. I felt at the
very least I should-
Arthur, he snaps, exasperated, you told me the score, and I accepted it. And you specifically
said youd kept the rent low because of the living conditions. I absolutely do not need special
treatment. For Gods sake, you dont even have a bed. Not that hed taken a long look at the
mattress on the floor where Arthur slept. Warm. Soft. Sleepy.
Thats a deliberate choice, he defends. I dont enjoy lugging furniture all over the house so I
keep it simple until the painting and floors are done.
Merlin shakes his head. Youre mental.
Arthurs lips twitch. Yes, well. Best you discovered that early on. And he turns to jog back
down the stairs.
Prat, Merlin mutters after him, eyes locked firmly on that delicious arse.

* * *

Merlin enters the house one Thursday evening to find it empty and echoing. For a moment hes
oddly off-balance its been ridiculously easy to get used to coming home to Arthur.
He showers and changes from his work jeans and button-up into soft, old jeans and a t-shirt,
watches some crap telly while he actually folds his laundry, for once, and hes just thinking about
dinner when he hears the sound of a key in the lock.
Hey, mate, he says without looking up from the menus spread out on the couch. You eaten? I
was thinking about popping out for a curry. The usual?
Fine, Arthur says, head down as he tosses his keys into the bowl by the door, and Merlin
breezes past, clapping him on the shoulder.
Half an hour later when he enters the house he almost doesnt notice Arthur, slumped on the
window seat and staring out into the night. Only the lamp in the corner illuminates the room.
No, dont get up, he mocks gently, hand out as if to hold Arthur back. He slings the bag onto
the seat beside Arthur and heads into the kitchen, snags some forks and two beers and returns,
toeing off his shoes before curling up, back braced against the frame opposite Arthur. He points
the remote at the TV out of habit, but keeps the sound on mute for now. Arthur doesnt even
glance over at the screen.
He doles out the food, forks and beer, and only as he dips into his chicken tikka does he realize
Arthur hasnt spoken another word since he entered the house.
You all right, Arthur?
Arthur shifts, reaching for the food and Merlins not sure how he knows, but hes moving a bit
blindly, on automatic. Yeah, he says quietly, Im fine.
Oh no youre not, he thinks, but he hesitates, not sure how much hes allowed. Its only been two
weeks, and theres just something about Arthur - a wall that fends off everyone and everything.
Rough day? he tries, wishing hed bothered turning a light on. The TV is flickering in the
corner but doesnt really let him see Arthurs face.
Theres a long silence, then Arthur says, Long day. He pokes at the curry with his fork but
doesnt eat, and as Merlin watches he sighs, replaces the lid and slides back to lean against the
window frame again. Very long day, he says, and hes silent and still for the rest of the night.
Merlin cant think of anything to do but sit there, with him, legs occasionally brushing against one
another as the time ticks by.

* * *

He tucks the phone between his shoulder and his chin and yanks the fridge open. Gwens crisp
voicemail message chirrups in his ear.
Gwen, Merlin begins, uh, its me. Listen, call me when you get this, yeah? Im just
wondering uh, how much bother it would be, or how difficult, to get me a dead cheap room at
that over-decorated hellhole you work in. Just for a night. Maybe two. Ta.
He drops his phone into his pocket, snags some sandwich makings and staggers over to the bench,
catching Arthurs sidelong glance.
Romantic getaway? He starts the kettle and reaches up for the mugs, silently asking with raised
brows if Merlin wants one.
Huh? he nods, yes please, and then puts it together. Oh, the room. Oh, no, its not for me. For
my Mum.
Oh. Theres a pause as Arthur retrieves teabags from the box on the bench. Then he says
carefully, I thought maybe you were feeling, um. Well. Ive noticed you havent had your
boyfriend over here yet.
What? Merlin stares at him blankly, knife poised over the slices of bread.
I maybe should have said, youre welcome to have him stay here. Arthur is ladling sugar into
cups and doesnt look up.
My boyfriend. And when Arthur nods he says slowly, I dont have a boyfriend.
That gets him looking over. But. He hesitates, then says, At Gwens party. When we met. I
saw you-
Merlin frowns, backtracking through the night. Hes had his fair share of drunken hookups more
than his fair share, according to some but not that night. Hed been too focused on Arthur, for
one thing. And of course-
Will! he exclaims, and things come clear. Oh, you mean Will.
Arthur raises his eyebrows. I suppose I must. Will must love it when you forget his very
existence.
Wills not my hes my best mate, and my flatmate. Arthur, his current flatmate, stares coldly at
him.
Sorry, was my flatmate. Force of habit. That was he was leaving that night. We were saying
goodbye. And he glances away, feeling the fresh ache at the memory.
The kettle clicks off and Arthur pours the tea in silence. Then he says, The one who was moving
to Zurich.
Right. Merlin returns to his sandwich, but his mind is clicking over double time. Arthur thought
he had a boyfriend all this time. And he does not look happy to hear that Merlin is single. Shit.
Has he been horribly obvious in his crush? Probably, he thinks, depressed. And it likely happens
so much to Arthur people falling over themselves to adore him that he has a kind of sixth sense
about it.
And Merlin makes a soft oh as he realizes something else. Thats what Arthur had meant by
anyone else you can stay with. That had been code for why dont you move in with your
boyfriend?
It was quite a you must be very close. Arthur finally says, jiggling the bags in the water.
Weve been mates since we were little kids, Merlin says, voice thick. But he knows what Arthur
means, knows how it must have looked, the long embrace and the intimacy that comes with years.
He finishes the sandwich and cuts it, but makes no move to eat. Between Arthur-the-untouchable
and Will-the-absent, he suddenly feels very depressed.
And then Arthur is there, shoulder bumping his as he offers the cup of tea. You must miss him.
Yeah. He takes the mug with a sigh and slumps against the counter. Fucking Edwin. I wanted
to kill him for a while. Or well, at least, make his hair fall out and get his American Express card
refused in some public forum. I spent one miserable hung-over Sunday morning trying to make it
happen using the power of my mind, but
From the corner of his eye he sees Arthur bite back a smile and sip his tea.
And somehow, he feels a little better.
Of course, its probably lucky Arthur doesnt know that its the making it happen part Merlin
couldnt manage. Hes done far more difficult things using the power of his mind, its just that its
always bloody involuntary.
So just mates?
Merlin shoots him a sidelong glance. He could lie, of course, and avoid depressing himself even
further. But lies were seldom worth the trouble. He drags his mind away from his weird luck-
thing. Keeping that secret isnt a lie. Not really.
Right?
Youve got a good eye, he comments. He slides up onto the counter and swings his feet idly,
heels banging against the shitty cupboard doors Arthur is yet to replace. We were best mates our
whole lives, he says, and the smile just comes, unbidden. Grew up in the same tiny village, did
everything together.
Arthur just waits, quiet, like he really wants to know the tiny details of Merlins boring life, so he
shrugs and keeps going.
All I had was Mum, and all he had was his Dad, so I guess we kind of all stuck together. We
came up to London at the same time got a flat together, everything was great. I was at Uni, he
was waiting tables and sketching on the side. And then um, he swallows and lowers his tea,
staring down at the cloudy brown. We. Um. Got together.
Not good?
The gentle question has him breathing deep. He hasnt thought about this in ages.
Good for a while. Great for a while, actually. But, I dunno. He stares across the disaster area
that is Arthurs kitchen and says slowly, He felt weird about not going to Uni, and it was worse
when we were out with my new mates. I didnt see it, of course, to me he was just Will. And
we fought about, Jesus, the stupidest things. I dont think either one of us could figure out what
why we suddenly couldnt talk to each other, after everything. Wed never really fought before,
not like that anyway. I guess you could say, we didnt know how.
He shakes his head. So then we were nothing. Not together, and definitely not mates. He
grinds to a halt, tries not to remember how hollow everything had felt, how angry hed been, how
bitter and stupid.
How confused.
How long?
He lets out a long breath. Months. Worst months of my life. Nearly a year, actually. He sighs
and takes a sip of tea. And then one day we just ran into each other. Literally. Tripped over each
other in the rain. I wasnt looking where I was going, he says and hes not so distracted that he
doesnt notice the amused twitch of Arthurs mouth. He ignores it.
Id started working for Gaius by then, just a few hours a week till I finished my degree. He
walked me there, we talked and I dunno. It took a while, but eventually we got back to being
friends again. Moved back in together a while after that.
Never tempted to try again?
Merlin shakes his head emphatically. Nup. That wasnt us. In fact- He stops.
Hes never said this to anyone before. But Arthur is waiting. Hes not asking, just listening. And
so Merlin says, Sometimes I think we only got together because it seemed to make sense, you
know? We were so close, such great mates, so much in common. We knew everything about each
other. Everything. Youd think wed have been perfect, the perfect couple, when we both turned
out to be gay. I think in a way it was like, well, this is probably how its meant to be, right? This
makes sense. Except.
Except it wasnt meant to be.
He half-laughs. Its so weird. Edwin, the new boyfriend? Jesus. I hated him. This high achieving
corporate arsehole. It makes no sense that he and Will would work. I mean, Wills an artist, for
Gods sake. But- they do. They just do. On paper it should have been us. But in real life, it just
couldnt happen.
Arthur is silent for a long time, staring down at the floor. And then, out of nowhere, he says,
Why does your mother need a hotel room?



They argue it out for days. Gwen is checking reservations for the Friday night, theres some kind
of conference block booking complicating matters, and Arthur is making disappointed faces at
Merlin every time she calls.
I dont want to take advantage! Merlin says for the hundredth time.
Its not taking advantage if I fucking tell you to invite her here, Arthur thunders back. His
formality and his manners simply evaporate when hes exasperated. Its a bit insane just how
much Merlin likes that. I know the house is a mess but I can-
Arthur, Merlin shoots back, its not the bloody house, the house is a bloody palace, all right?
Mums seen the typhoid laden hell-holes Ive lived in-
Then whats wrong with-
Because youve already put yourself out finishing my room before your own. Hes waving his
arms wildly, aware this is not his best look, but, Now you want to do another room for Mum - it
would be imposing-
It cant possibly be imposing when Im doing the inviting, you total idiot, he cries, and storms
off to as Merlin later realizes rant at Gwen. An hour later the half-promise of a room at the
hotel is withdrawn.
It doesnt help that Merlin is stuck with lame excuses instead of saying I dont want her to see
what a horribly hopeless crush I have on you. Hes already had more than his quota of painfully
honest conversations with his Mum.


Chapter End Notes
In case it's bothering anyone, the quote is from Monty Pthyon's film, Life of Brian,
http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0079470/ which needs no introduction from me, I hope.
If you haven't seen it, do so immediately.
And since no Londoners have yet sent me a blistering email about how ridiculous it is
to set the house in Muswell Hill, I'm going with it. I'm very happy to accept
corrections from those with more recent knowledge, however...
Chapter 3
Chapter Summary
Merlins always involving himself with people, twining himself into their lives until
they cant do without him. Arthur blinks and swallows at the uncomfortable
realization skimming beneath that thought.

Its only by accident that he discovers even the tiniest snippet about Arthurs past. Merlin is
helping Gwen deliver yet another load of boxes to the battered womens shelter when she lets it
slip.
Well, hes definitely the tidiest flatmate Ive ever had, Merlin is saying. Which is kind of weird.
Every time he speaks I feel like Im in an episode of Downton Abbey, except hes the one doing
the manual labour, and the bulk of the dishes.
Yes, apparently miracles can happen, Gwen huffs, dragging a box out of the back of the
laundry van. I can only assume the Army sorted him out, because he was the slobbiest bloody
teenager you could imagine.
Really? Merlin blinks at her, then hefts a box of his own and bumps the van door shut with his
hip. Glenda, the driver, leans out to check theyre finished and drives off with a wave. Apparently
her first husband had been a nasty-tempered drinker, and shes happy to help out with unofficial
deliveries to a place that offers a haven for other battered wives.
Oh God, dont get me started.
But I want to, Merlin thinks. Hes been wondering how someone beautifully ordinary like Gwen
had met Arthur. Until now hed been going with the guest of the hotel scenario, but this fits
much better with the way hes seen Arthur look at her. Deep, unabiding affection, with a trace of
something sad.
She tosses her head and heads up the path to the front door. Morgause is waiting there, door
already open, so the moment is gone as far as sharing confidences go. Still, now he has the mental
image of Arthur in uniform in his head. Hmmm.
Morgause gives Merlin a cool, measured glance, like always. Shes agreed to his presence, of
course, but having a man on the premises makes a lot of the women uneasy and he always tries to
get out of there as soon as possible.
Through there, Morgause indicates the front room with a wave of her hand. Merlins never gone
past this front room, unlike Gwen, who seems to have the run of the place whenever she likes.
She was part of the establishment of Shannen House, apparently, something Merlin has only
figured out from the tiny scraps of information the staff let fall. He sends Morgause a quick wave
and turns his attention to the boxes while Gwen disappears out the back, the door closing behind
them both and shutting out the miniscule sounds of the women and children living here.
It had taken some convincing, but Gwens hotel is now resigned to donating the unclaimed lost
property to Shannen House, and once a month Merlin spends an afternoon sorting through the
stuff. Gwen had found it odd that he wanted to do it, and he couldnt exactly explain that
sometimes he could tell who it belonged to and if it was truly missed or needed. But he feels better
about using his ability for something other than his own devices.
He shifts the boxes around until hes satisfied and clears a space on the coffee table. Just before he
starts, he crosses to the window that looks out onto the street. Its a nice street, and a bloody
beautiful house. The only time hes ever seen Morgause even close to smiling is when she talks
about the amazing good luck of having a piece of real estate like this donated to something as
unsexy as a womens shelter.
Its a good place. You can just feel it. Theres pain and anguish within these walls, of course too
much of it but this is a haven and a shelter for those who need it most. And as he does every
time he visits, Merlin runs his fingers over the window sill, beneath it, until his fingertips brush
over the small shape hed discovered by accident.
His vision washes gold every time he touches the tiny dragon, burned into the timber beneath the
window sill, almost entirely concealed. Its not an image, instead every time he touches it he can
feel the love, the protection, the fierce will to do good in this world. Someone wonderful had a
hand in this place.
Hes smiling when he turns back to the job at hand.

* * *

It happens, as fucking awful things always do, on a perfectly ordinary day. Theyre sprawled out
in front of the television, arguing gently over which of them should gather up the dishes.
I cooked, Merlin points out.
Yes, Merlin, he responds, wry. You certainly did manage to heat up some frozen pies and
chips. Kudos to you. Of course, I am the one who provided the essential condiments and set the
table.
Set the- and Merlin actually snorts a laugh at that before he catches himself. We ate on our
knees, you tosser. And HP Sauce hardly qualifies as a condiment.
It completes the meal, Arthur says airily.
Which I cooked. It occurs to Merlin theyre both enjoying this a little too much.
Goodness, I hope you didnt strain your delicate wrist with all that complicated turning of the
oven knob- Arthur begins, breaking off when Merlin shifts toward him and accidentally places
his elbow on the volume of the remote control.
Sorry- he mutters, juggling the remote. Its an overly loud ad for some crappy show with
mediums and psychics, and Merlin hesitates for a moment, abruptly focused on the screen. He
cant help it. Hes always curious. Maybe this one will have a genuine talent? He cant be the only
one who can do weird stuff.
Right?
Oh my God, Arthur says, and for the first time since they met Merlin can hear the Old Etonian
sneer in that voice. He flinches automatically and glances sideways as Arthur continues. Dont
tell me you actually watch that shit.
Merlin blinks at him, a little stunned at the out-of-nowhere tone of attack.
Please, Arthur raises a brow scornfully. I had a higher opinion of you than that, Merlin.
I-um, he stammers, glances at the screen and then back again, not sure whether he wants to say
dont be such a snobby prat or what the hell gives you the right to take that tone and instead settles
for... You-um, you dont believe in the paranormal, then?
Its garbage, Arthur says harshly, its the kind of destructive shit that ruins peoples lives,
Merlin. And he launches himself off the couch, plate in hand, storming into the kitchen.
Merlin sits there, numb, listening to the angry sounds of Arthur doing the dishes and all he can
think is good thing I didnt tell him about me, then.

* * *

Arthur meets Gaius about five weeks in. Merlin calls him with a typically odd request you can
build shelves, Arthur, cant you? In your, um, spare time?
As it turns out, Arthur can. Because, as it turns out, he is completely incapable of saying no to
Merlin on a good day, let alone when that bloody gorgeous voice of his gets a slightly tentative
note to it, as if hes afraid he might be overstepping somehow by asking for a favour. So Arthur
finds himself spending a Tuesday morning at Albion Antiques, measuring and hammering and
hoping to God nothing of his falls on or knocks over anything older than he is.
Merlin, oddly enough, disappears part way through the morning into the staff only area and is
neither seen nor heard for half an hour. Gaius remains where he is, unpacking a consignment of
silverware and tut-tutting over the inaccurate inventory that accompanied it. He is also casting
curious glances at Arthur whenever he thinks he wont be noticed. Hed frowned as Merlin had
introduced them you look familiar and Arthur had smiled politely to mask the terror that the
older man might actually, somehow, know his story. Gaius doesnt ring any bells at all for him, so
maybe it actually is just one of those things.
Finally, Gaius raises his eyes to the grandfather clock by the stairs and shakes his head, muttering
Merlin, with great meaning, and then he shuffles out the back, from whence muffled arguments
can soon be heard. After about two minutes Arthur stops pretending to work and unabashedly
listens.
Its almost entirely Merlins side of the argument he hears. Whatevers going on, Gaius remains
calm and reasoned. So all Arthur gets is muffled fragments like ridiculous circus and why dont
you go, then and cruel and unusual with some more ridiculous and pointless at the end.
Finally they both emerge, and Arthur is extremely fortunate hed already put down his hammer,
because it would have taken a chunk out of his trust fund to fix the things he was currently
perched over.
Merlin looks amazing. Polished. Urbane. A brighter version of himself.
Hes wearing a sharply cut suit no tie and a deep burgundy shirt that make his eyes pop the
most vivid blue Arthurs ever seen, and that includes the incredible sky over southern
Afghanistan. The punch of heat in his gut should be familiar by now, but this is its like his
normal attraction on steroids.
Oh shit. Why couldnt Will have been the long-term and extremely possessive boyfriend Arthur
had pictured? Can he never catch a bloody break?
Merlins never looked more pissed off, and he blows past Arthur - whos frozen, halfway up a
ladder - like hes forgotten his flatmates even there. Which, apparently, he has. He pauses at the
door and looks back at Gaius, vivid colour in his cheeks as he raises a threatening hand, Finger of
Doom pointing back at his employer.
This is the last time, Gaius. I mean it. The stern tone of Merlins voice goes straight to Arthurs
cock and he swallows, hard.
Of course, the old man nods sagely, and Merlins eyes narrow.
Arthur bites back a laugh at the muttered stream of curses that provokes, and he hastens down the
ladder as Merlin pushes outside without another word.
Arthur glances from the door to Gaius, whose lips are openly twitching, and half-jogs to the door.
Hes completely at the mercy of his own arousal, amazement and amusement, moving without
conscious thought. He pulls the door open just in time to see Merlin disappear into a taxi,
slamming the door for good measure.
Merlin glances back and spots him, blinks a few times as he clearly recalls the scene and realizes
Arthur witnessed the whole thing. He grimaces and rolls down his window. Sorry, he mutters.
His pale skin flushes again.
Arthur just grins. Merlin, he calls, leaning casually against the door frame.
Yeah? He squints suspiciously, awaiting the mocking.
Thats a good look for you, Arthur says instead, voice suddenly soft and a lot deeper than hed
meant it to be. A very good look.
Merlins eyes widen, and a second later the taxi pulls away with a jerk.
Arthur watches it go while he takes a minute to remember how to breathe, and then heads back
inside, eyeing Gaius curiously. Where is he going anyway? And where did he get that suit?
Off to lunch at the Savoy, Gaius says, matter-of-fact. He returns to his spot at the counter,
though he shoots one appraising look across the store to watch the effect of his words.
Arthur freezes. What? Merlin at the Savoy? Its like picturing a giraffe on ice skates. Although -
in that suit
The suit, well, Gaius says, I made him buy a few years ago. He kept insisting on going to these
lunches in jeans and a t-shirt. I keep it here at work to prevent him from sabotaging it. That boy
has a genius for trouble. He turns to head out back again, then pauses. Or is it Claridges this
year? I cant remember. Its always somewhere good, anyway.
Who on earth is Merlin meeting at the Savoy?
My competitors, of course, he replies, brows rising. The big fish. Sothebys, etc. They try to
recruit him every year. There used to be a series of lunches and dinners, he somehow convinced
them to throw in together so he only has to do it once. Its something of a tradition, now. I hear the
staff at Christies treat it like some kind of bank half-holiday nowadays. Last year he apparently
taught them some horrid kind of drinking game and the year before two of the Lloyds people
ended up on TubeFace or whatever its called, planking in the British Museum.
Arthur just stands there, mouth agape. And you encourage him to go?
He tips his head, regarding Arthur carefully. Of course. He has options, he should know it. For
a moment he hesitates. Then he says softly, Sometimes I almost wish hed accept an offer.
Why? The affection between Merlin and his employer is obvious to anyone with eyes. This is
more than a working relationship not that Merlin could maintain something so cold anyway.
Hes too impulsive for that, too messy. Hes always involving himself with people, twining
himself into their lives until they cant do without him. Arthur blinks and swallows at the
uncomfortable realization skimming beneath that thought.
Gaius sighs, and his eyes roam around the space. Well, it would make my decision for me, I
suppose. Id have to sell up and get out. And I could lose some of the guilt.
Arthur frowns, and he clarifies. I cant pay him what hes worth. I mean, Ive raised his salary as
high as I can and still stay afloat, but its nothing compared to what hed get at Lloyds or
Christies.
Its no surprise to hear that Merlin isnt tempted by money. He doesnt seem to care, Arthur says
softly.
Of course he doesnt, Gaius rolls his eyes, and his tone is not complementary. That boy has no
more sense than a whippet when it comes to the people he loves. Hed live on bread and water
rather than leave me, the idiot. He could be making money hand over fist if he wanted. But no,
hed rather stick here out of some sense of obligation
Gaius sighed, and Arthur only hesitated a second before he said, You know its not obligation
that makes him stay. Theres silence, and then he adds, Hes happy.
A smile touches Gaius face, and he gives Arthur a long, unreadable look. Yes. I know.
They dont speak again, and Arthur is putting the finishing touches to the shelves when Gaius
startles him. Arthur Fitzroy, he says slowly, thoughtfully. Hmm. What was your mothers
name, Arthur?
For a moment hes frozen, then he swallows and turns slowly, staring down at Gaius from the top
of the ladder. Igraine, he says, voice rough. Doesnt see the point in lying. All his thoughts are
turning around MerlinMerlinMerlin, because theres no way Gaius will keep this to himself-
Gaius smiles, broad and pleased and the terror in Arthurs chest unclenches just a little. Its not
about that, then. Nothing bad.
Lady Igraine Shannen, Gaius finishes, clearly delighted. I knew I recognized you. Well, the
resemblance, anyway. My dear boy, he steps back as Arthur climbs down to floor level, I met
your mother once, spent a week with her at her godmothers house. In fact, I think yes, Im sure
she was pregnant with you at the time.
Arthur hangs on to the ladder as he stares. You knew her?
Briefly, Gaius says. Only briefly. But she made an impression. He shakes his head, Youre
very like her, you know.
Yes, Arthur says, and takes a quick breath. So Ive been told.
Well, Gaius says, suddenly awkward and not sure where to look. Thats how Arthur knows
hes just remembered that Igraine died in childbirth, that hes talking to the reason shes no longer
on this earth. Well, he repeats. Im very pleased to have solved that mystery, Arthur. It would
have bothered me for days.
Arthur just half-smiles and turns away to gather up his tools. And just in time, too. Im finished
here. He gets out of there as quickly as he can. He doesnt want to spend any time wandering
down memory lane with Gaius. No matter how tempted he is by stories of his mother.

Chapter 4
Chapter Summary
It was the suit, Arthur decided. The bloody suit had completely done him in.
Packaging Merlin like that all long, clean lines and seductive collarbones. He was
going to have bloody wet dreams about that suit.

Perhaps he should have been better prepared. Gaius had certainly supplied enough detail to warn
him. But somehow he hadnt quite put it together.
It was the suit, Arthur decided. The bloody suit had completely done him in. Packaging Merlin
like that all long, clean lines and seductive collarbones. He was going to have bloody wet
dreams about that suit.
So he was a little less than on the ball when a cab lurched to a stop outside the house late that
night. He hesitates, hand twitching for his sidearm before he can catch himself. Right.
As if he would just catch a cab to Arthurs house. He clicks off the telly and goes to the door.
Merlin emerges from the cab in a stumble which is, sadly, probably not at all caused by his
undeniable drunkenness. Arthur sighs and heads down the front path, ready to manhandle him
inside and pay the cabbie. Hes not ready for the chorus of wolf-whistles and cat-calls that emerge
from the cabs interior.
Merlin, you lucky bastard, a blonde girl yells from inside the cab. He really does look like
Prince Charming.
Shut up, Merlin slurs, head in his hands. Oh god please all of you shut up. He looks up, blue
eyes pleading. Arthur, he says earnestly, Im really sorry.
You didnt say fucking gorgeous, Emrys, another blonde leans out the window, which does
wonderful things for her cleavage. Or mention the body.
To be fair, a tall man unfolds from the front passenger seat and quirks an eyebrow over the roof
of the cab, he did say broodingly handsome.
Kill me, Merlin mumbles against Arthurs shoulder. Kill me now.
Arthur finally gathers his wits. Lovely to meet you all, he says, taking a definite step backwards
and dragging Merlin with him.
Oh God, did you hear that accent? I think I just came. The words drift out the window and now
even the cabbie is craning his head for a look.
Arthur can feel the blood rushing to his face. For Christs sake, hes been on benders with special
ops soldiers, he can handle a couple of drunken antique valuers, surely?
Arthur, the second blonde purrs, still hanging out the window as he backs away, please say
youll come to lunch next year. You can be my date, if you dont want to be Merlins. Or you can
just show up have your pick, once you get there, if you like. Everyone was extremely
impressed with your photo.
The others are going to be so pissed we saw you in person, the tall man is grinning as Arthur
finally, finally manages to press Merlin up against the front door.
Oh God, hes pressed against Merlin, whos pressed against a door. I did not dream of this, I did
not dream of this, I did not-
Good night, he manages, praying fervently that Merlin didnt do anything stupid like offer them
a nightcap. They practically fall inside the house to a chorus of Good night, Prince Arthur.
He drags Merlin upstairs I did not dream this and lets him fall into bed in the suit. Hes not
about to trust himself to remove, well anything. Okay, maybe just the shoes. Then he stands
back, surveying the wreck of Merlin.
I didnt start it, Merlin mumbles without lifting his head. You sent me a text and they saw your
photo on the screen. Bastards.
Its fine, Merlin, Arthur says, trying not to smile.
Bastards, he mumbles again. Oh God.
Arthur jogs down to his own bathroom and returns with a glass of water and some Advil. Take
these, he advises, wondering if Merlins a vomiter. He eyes the new carpet, resigned, and makes
another trip for an old ice-cream container he uses for soaking his paintbrushes.
When he comes back Merlin has struggled out of the jacket and dragged a few buttons of his shirt
open. Arthur bites back a breath at the sudden appearance of pale skin and carefully drags the
comforter up over Merlin.
Go to sleep, idiot, he says softly, and clenches his hands into fists at how much he wants to h
oh fuck it all.
To hold him.



Two days later Merlin arrives home from work with an exquisite silk lampshade cradled inside a
sturdy box. He places it on the kitchen table and steadies it carefully to make sure the tables
permanent angle isnt going to cause it to slide off and crash to the floor. Arthur takes a moment to
marvel at the way Merlin can fumble a simple passing of the salt, but has never, according to
Gaius, so much as chipped an antique.
Its from Gaius, Merlin says before he can ask. For the shelves.
What?
Payment for the shelves, Merlin says, already turning for the stairs.
No, he says on automatic. He blinks at it, then calls, Merlin. I cant possibly. This is-
Merlin shrugs from the half-landing. You can argue it out with him, he yells back. Im just the
messenger, here.
Arthur stares at it. Its beautiful. Then he notices the small envelope tucked under the lid. The note
inside feels like parchment, spindly handwriting wandering across the page.
Arthur,
If memory serves, this is almost identical to a piece your mother admired from the estate
collection I was valuing (her godmothers). Please accept it with my thanks for a job well done,
and in memory of a true lady, someone whose company I greatly enjoyed.
Gaius
He is still staring at it when Merlin comes back downstairs. Merlin grins as he passes the table.
Go on. Go ahead. Call and tell him you cant possibly. I guarantee youll end up thanking him
profusely instead. Hes extremely hard to say no to.
Fine, Arthur shoots back. I will.
Merlin smirks and keys the number into Arthurs phone, then ambles off to make tea. He places a
mug in front of Arthur in the midst of the worlds most fumbling conversation and Merlins eyes
fall on the note. Arthur watches his face as he takes it in the contents, the way it goes carefully
blank, but the sympathy clearly written beneath.
He swears later, to himself, thats why he ends up accepting the damn gift.

* * *

Merlin takes a trip to see Will after about two months of living with Arthur. Edwins away for part
of the weekend, so its like old times in many ways, talking shite and eating and talking more
shite, laughing like loons at things no-one else would find funny.
He tries very hard not to sound too different when he mentions Arthur, but from the look on Wills
face hes not fooling anybody. Theres a photo of Arthur and Gwen on Merlins phone and Will
whistles softly when he sees it, making Merlins face heat.
Still, hes allowed to leave with only a long, measuring look, and a warm hug which says about as
much of a be careful as mere words would have done. His flight back is brief and uneventful, and
he forces his mind away from Arthur by flicking back over images of Will in his head, and then
on his phone. He looks happy. His painting has improved, too. Still.
Fucking Edwin.
Its a typical cloudy London afternoon when Merlin walks home from the Tube, his carry-on
slung over his shoulder. Hes thinking of nothing much and listening to one of his playlists. He
lets himself in and keeps the music on until the end of Moves Like Jagger, which is possibly why
hes made it inside the house, through the front room and all the way to the stairs before he hears
it.
Arthur. Moaning.
He freezes, just freezes, halfway up the stairs, earbuds dangling from one hand. The punch of
desire is ordinary baseline ever since he started living with Arthur. But its the stab of hurt, of
jealousy, that catches him off-guard.
Who the fuck is upstairs with Arthur, making him sound like that?
His feet completely disobey him and resume climbing the stairs. Oh, shit, no, stop, he has time to
think and then everything short-circuits again because the low voice murmuring over the top of
Arthurs contented sex noises belongs to a woman.
Merlin drags in a shaky breath. Righto. Hes an idiot, then, and the object of his uncontrollable
crush is bloody straight.
One more step brings him to the landing where the half-open door of Arthurs room gives him an
abbreviated glimpse that is still more than he ever wanted to see.
Not only is Arthur straight, but he is apparently being stroked into oblivion by a fucking
supermodel.
Merlin hates her immediately. Its a toss-up whether its more for the long, slow strokes of her
fingers over Arthurs gleaming back, or for possessing flawless porcelain skin and raven hair that
actually tumbles down her fucking back in storybook fucking ringlets.
Oh my God, Arthur slurs into the six-inch pile of towels beneath him. For some reason theyre
not having sex on his mattress, instead hes sprawled out on the floor on a pile of what looks like
every towel in the house. Whatever.
Princess Raven Tresses is still fully dressed in jeans and a shirt so simple they scream exclusive
and expensive. Arthur is covered only by a towel over his arse and Merlin doesnt want to know if
he is stumbling into foreplay or afterglow, he just really, really needs to find a drink or ten and
then make some terrible random hook-up that will give him something else to focus on like a
nice dose of ordinary shame - instead of-
You should really do this as a regular thing, you know, Tresses is saying, her plummy voice
low and even and she really doesnt seem into this at all, even as her hands work over the hills
and valleys of Arthurs lower back. The kind of work you do
Stupid cow. Merlin silently lowers his bag to the floor. Who the hell could possibly
underappreciate Arthur? Why isnt she gasping and shrieking at her unbelievable good fortune-
Arthur just makes another low sound and then flinches when her fingers sweep under the towel to
fondle that beautiful bum.
No matter how you frame it, he mumbles into the towels, you touching my arse is
inappropriate and, well, weird.
Tresses shrugs, but theres a laugh in her voice when she rolls her eyes and says, For Gods sake,
Arthur, Im a professional. But if it makes you feel weird then perhaps you should stop carrying so
much of your tension there, you tosser.
And Arthur snickers.
Not exactly pillow talk. Merlin frowns and shifts his weight, trying to think around the haze of
jealous hurt in his head. He should also go back downstairs and out the front door.
He doesnt.
A professional? Surely Arthur wouldnt hire a-
Princess Raven Tresses spots him in that exact moment and sits back on her heels, hands sliding
out from beneath the towel.
For a moment her eyes are hard, measuring, and then she keeps going, working her way down
Arthurs legs as she says, So youve got a flatmate now? She never looks away from Merlin,
who blinks at her stupidly. And then he gets it.
Ohhhh. Masseuse. Not a girlfriend or a fuckbuddy or even a prostitute. The sun comes out just as
Arthur says, Yes, his voice slurs slightly, turning husky as he says, Merlin. The sound goes
straight to Merlins cock, oh my god what hed give to hear it said like that against his lips-
Tall and lanky, is he? Pale? Given to open-mouthed staring?
And just like that Merlin is back to stupid cow.
Arthur jerks upright, bracing himself on his elbows as he swings his head toward the door.
Careful, Merlin says without thinking, Youll undo all the good work.
She sits back on her heels, eyebrows delicately rising at the implied compliment.
Assuming she does any, that is, he adds, glaring at her. She could have given him a chance to
clear his throat or stomp or something, before she outed him like that.
Green gimlet eyes bore into him.
Merlin, Arthur says again, and his face is flushed from lying down. Or possibly from being
almost totally naked. Apparently there were cotton boxers under that towel. Damn it. Uh. This
is Morgana.
Morgana and Merlin stare at one another, unimpressed. Arthur doesnt notice.
Morgana, this is Merlin, Arthur completes the introduction and gets to his feet, offering a hand
to the supermodel. And Merlins not too proud to fleetingly glance and check. No erection.
Her brow flicks up again as she gracefully rises, and he just knows she noticed where his eyes
went. Damn. He waits for another sneering remark, with absolutely no idea how hell combat it.
Hes absolutely gone for Arthur. He knows it, Arthur suspects, its likely there are tribes living in
the outer provinces of Uzbekistan with no electricity or running water who are discussing his
hopeless crush on Arthur over their evening campfires.
But Arthur speaks before she can, half-laughs, soft and relaxed as he runs a hand through his hair
and says, And she does excellent work, actually. And he pauses, then says, flushing, Sorry, I
know this must look, well-
Morganas eyes widen as if shes seeing something for the first time in a long time, and her gaze
turns back to Merlin again, curious, as Arthur continues.
He gestures to his near-nudity and the pile of towels and, well, everything, Im afraid I didnt get
the shower working in your mums bathroom yet, I shouldnt have stopped, I know-
Its not Mums bathroom, Merlin shouts, exasperated. Theres no real reason why this should
be what makes him snap but Morgana is glancing back and forth between them, blinking, and he
couldnt give a toss what shes thinking, frankly beautiful cow with her elegant hands all over
Arthurs smooth, oiled up skin-
Its your bloody house, your bloody schedule and you work like a bloody navvy so dont
apologize for taking half an hour to get a fucking massage, especially not to me.
And he storms upstairs, leaving surprised silence in his wake.


So Morgana drifts up to Merlins door and leans against it, casually elegant. She drops his
carry-on just inside the doorway. Merlin. Merlin Emrys.
He casts a bad-tempered look her way.
Tell me your life story, Merlin, she says, and perches on the end of his bed, uninvited.
Hmm, how about, no, he says, trying to hold his temper.
Gwen likes you, she says thoughtfully, and I like Gwen, very much. So theres a chance I
dont want to have you killed.
She says this shit like its normal and hes about to fire back when he realizes what else she just
said. You know Gwen?
Mmm, she says, eyes roaming around his room and he is not going to be self-conscious about
the huge pile of dirty laundry hed meant to take care of before he left for the weekend, his bloody
unmade bed or the stack of Wills artwork that is still leaning against his walls instead of hanging.
How do you know Gwen?
We grew up together, she says softly, Arthur and Gwen and I.
You. He straightens, phone dropping from his hand onto the bed and bouncing onto the floor.
You what?
Arthur didnt get a chance to mention that Im his cousin, before your charming bout of temper,
she drawls, rising to stand in front of Wills paintings and not looking at Merlin.
Um. He blinks. No.
We grew up together, she says, voice empty of anything that might resemble emotion, after my
parents died we were like brother and sister.
Oh, Merlin says stupidly. Hes not sure what to make of that. This is the first hint of any kind of
family in Arthurs life. He knew about Gwen, but neither of them ever mentions specifics, he
doesnt even know what part of England they grew up in. Er.
So, she says, turning to face him, You can understand why Im curious.
About me?
Exactly.
Well, um, he frowns, still not sure why, oh hell, unless she can see right through him the same
way Arthur can. God, he must be the most obvious idiot on the face of the earth and now Arthurs
cousin thinks hes a lovesick stalker. He had a vacant room and I was looking for a new place.
My best mate moved to Zurich.
She just keeps watching but theres not a whole lot left for him to say. What does she want him to
do, audition?
Im, uh, not a serial killer or anything look, is there something you want to ask me? he finally
says, helplessly.
Arthur can be very commanding, she says after a long pause, tipping Wills canvases forward
one by one, perusing.
Merlin blinks at the back of her neck.
But hes not always right about what he needs. And finally she turns to look at him. Dont let
him talk you around too much, Merlin.
He stares at her for a very long time. I have absolutely no idea what you mean by that.
And then she smiles. I know.
But it sounds like shes thinking hes not a terrible flatmate for Arthur, or even a generic idiot, and
so he hesitates. Okay. And when it becomes clear that shes not going to elaborate on that, adds,
Um, thanks?
The smile widens and she glances down at the artwork again. Are these yours?
Oh God, no, Merlin says, Im pants at anything artistic. Theyre Wills my best mate. The
one who moved away.
Theyre quite good, she says softly. I like this one, especially.
Well. Merlin says, liking her a fraction more. Um. He has a website. If youre interested.
I am, she smiles a small, controlled smile in his direction. Shes very reserved, which just makes
it even weirder that someone like her would touch strangers for a living. Not that she needs to
make a living, judging by the jewellery shes wearing. Merlin knows enough to recognize Cartier
and Tiffanys when he sees it. Maybe the massage is just a weird hobby, like Arthurs renovation
kink.
Ill leave you alone now, she says, drifting toward the door. Arthur is making noises about
going out for dinner later. I hope youll join us?
I guess. Um. Yes. Thanks. And when she disappears he suddenly strikes a thought and dashes
out to the landing. Morgana?
Yes?
Are you staying here?
God, no, she laughs. Unlike Arthur, I feel no compulsion to live in a construction zone. I have
a flat in town, even though Im hardly ever there.
And he watches her drift down the stairs, completing the picture hes been sketching in his head of
Arthurs life. Shes clearly a child of privilege, her clothes would cost as much as Merlin could
make in a month, she has the same cut-glass accent and air of confidence, and is also carrying
what looks like a metric ton of emotional baggage. At the same time shes a mystery. A woman
like that working as a masseuse?
They head out for Thai food and its not as excruciating as Merlin had expected Morgana puts
her sneering on mute through the shared entre and its something to see Arthur relaxed and
laughing with someone else, for a change. Still, neither of them mentions any event or person from
earlier than five years ago, as if they both just appeared on the planet as fully-formed adults.
Hes intrigued.
Its not until the waiter is collecting their empty plates that he realizes Morgana has been watching
him even more intently than hes been watching Arthur. She narrows her eyes at him as Arthur
rises to visit the loo, and Merlin hastily backtracks through the past few minutes. Had he done
something wrong? Said something stupid?
Well, stupider than usual. Is something wrong?
For a long time she says nothing, and Merlin raises his eyebrows. I havent seen Arthur look this
relaxed in a very long time, she finally says.
Oh. Good.
She doesnt move, and he says uncertainly, That is good, right?
How did you come to move in with him? she asks, and Merlin hesitates. Didnt they already
cover this?
We, um, met at a party of Gwens.
Morgana looks like shes reconsidering the whole I like Gwen thing.
I said I was looking for a flatmate and he offered me his spare room. No big deal, he says,
despite the look on Morganas face that says its a huge deal.
Just like that. Shes skeptical.
Well. He hesitates. Hes not sure why hes considering telling her more, then he shrugs. Family.
He um, thought I had a boyfriend. He saw me with an old mate and um, he thought
Ahh, Morgana says, sounding somehow appeased. She leans back in her chair. Now I see.
Merlin can feel his face flush. Yeah. Right. I guess he didnt want a single roommate who was
gay in case of complications.
Her brows flick up in a tiny movement. Hm. Well. I think it might have been a little more specific
reason than that, but still.
He puzzles over her words for a moment. Im not sure I-
Dont worry about it, Merlin, she says, lips twitching. Im a bit of a cow at times, Im afraid.
Youll get used to it.
Will I? Merlin thinks. Going to be seeing a lot of her then. Oh, good.
Chapter 5
Chapter Summary
One of these days Merlin will leave, and if he doesnt, then Arthur will have to do the
leaving. No point both of them getting hurt, which means Merlin is better off thinking
Arthur only tolerates him.


Arthur is lolling around Morganas flat on a cold, clear Saturday morning, waiting for her to get
out of the shower so they can head to lunch, when his phone rings.
Hello? He flicks open the cover of some overpriced glossy fashion rag and stares down,
nonplussed, at a shampoo ad that looks more like a fruit and veg promotion. Avocado nutrients.
Really?
Is this Arthur?
Speaking.
This is Lee Gaius -
Arthur blinks. Um. Hello?
- Merlin Emrys employer.
Yes, I remember you, sir. Uh-
I apologize for the intrusion I still have your number from-
-thats quite all right.
Well. I was rather hoping you could help me track down Merlins friend, Gwen.
She, uh, shes probably on the Tube at the moment, Arthur begins, still slightly confused. Im
actually meeting her for lunch.
Ah. Right. Theres a pause where the older man is clearly making up his mind.
Would you like me to pass on a message? Arthur asks.
No, thats all right, he says slowly. If shes not close by she probably cant be of much
assistance to him anyway. It was, as Merlin would say, a long shot.
Arthur straightens. Merlin needs assistance?
Theres another pause. Ah. Hm. Well. Yes, I think he might. Unfortunately Im in Surrey this
weekend, visiting friends, so Im not able-
Im in town right now, Arthur interrupts. Tell me whats going on. A beat later he realizes that
was probably a little overbearing, and he winces. Its not easy overcoming years of training.
Gaius speaks more slowly this time, but thankfully he doesnt sound annoyed. More like
curious. Hm. I received a phone call a few minutes ago asking about Merlin. From the police.
Arthur is on his feet and scribbling a note for Morgana as Gaius continues speaking. Theyve
asked Merlin to come down to the mortuary in Westminster to identify a body.
What?
He continues, unphased by Arthurs exclamation.
Apparently Merlins business card was found on a deceased individual last night.
Arthur blinks. Okay, he says.
I think theres hesitation now, I think perhaps Merlin might need some support. I was hoping
Gwen could make it there.
Ill go, Arthur says, still trying to figure out if Gaius means might-get-arrested kind of support or
about-to-see-a-dead-friend kind. I can be there in fifteen minutes or so.
Good, Gaius says. The officer said Merlin was at home when they called, he should be en
route.
All right, Arthur says, shoving his note onto the middle of the dining table and disappearing
through Morganas front door. Hell google the address from the cab. Im on my way there
now.


Arthurs cab is actually rounding the corner when he sees Merlin climbing the steps of the
mortuary. Hes pale, as usual, head down, shoulders hunched under his coat and something
clenches in Arthurs chest at the sight of him.
He throws too much money at the cabbie and jogs across the street, still not quite sure what hes
going to say or do here.
Merlin, he calls, but the heavy doors close him out and he takes the steps two at a time, trying to
catch up. When he drags the door open again its to hear Merlin giving his name - that beautiful
voice subdued and rough - at the front desk.
theyre expecting me.
The woman behind the counter simply nods and picks up the phone, which is when Arthur says,
Merlin.
He doesnt jump. He just turns slowly, blinking, frowns, then blinks some more at Arthur.
Are you all right? he asks, approaching carefully, voice low.
Arthur?
Gaius called me, he says, are you all right?
Gaius? His voice is slow, on the edge of shocky and Arthur is suddenly very glad Gaius called.
He nods and waits.
Am I and he glances down at the floor before he says, Im all right. Yes.
Arthur steps to his side as the woman puts the phone down and mumbles something about
someone being right out. He nudges Merlin away from the counter, tilts his head and waits again.
Hes not about to badger Merlin with questions even though hes screaming to know whats going
on. He knows from experience just how shitty it is to be forced to talk when youre reeling with
shock.
Arthur, he says again, and this time his brow crinkles a little. Why are you
Moral support, he says, easy, and lets his shoulder brush against Merlins. Dont worry too
much about it, all right? Youre not on your own.
He nods slowly and then a door opens and they are calling Merlins name. Arthur keeps pace with
Merlin as he moves toward a stocky guy in a cheap suit.
Im Merlin.
The guy a cop, Arthur can still recognize them so easily nods, and flicks a glance at Arthur.
And you are?
Arthur Fitzroy, he says calmly, and lets his hand come to rest on the back of Merlins neck. We
live together. He can feel the little tremor that runs through Merlin at that, and thinks just let it
stand, let me be here for you, just once.
Theres a short pause, then the cop says, Sergeant Gawain. Youre welcome to wait here if youd
like, Mr Fitzroy.
Id really prefer to stay with Merlin, he says, carefully taking any aggression or arrogance out of
his tone, just making it a simple statement. He hasnt got a single leg to stand on, and they both
know it. Hes a bit upset.
Gawain gives him a long, measuring look, but its a fair enough statement, surely. Unless the guy
cant cope with seeing two men holding h- All right, he says after a long pause, and his eyes
rake over Merlins lean frame. Follow me, please.
They trail down several corridors of institutional white walls and an extremely easy-clean floor
covering of some kind. Arthur tries not to think too much about the smells and sounds that drift his
way, or why exactly the floor needs to be so low maintenance. Hes never had to visit a mortuary
before, thank God.
Through here, Gawain says, and they file through a doorway into another space where the
ammonia smell is much stronger and the lights seem slightly brighter. Arthur can feel Merlin tense
beside him and he grasps his hand instinctively, trying to warm the fingers that thread through his.
They are both staring at the double swing doors ahead of them.
Gawain pauses, and Arthur watches as he peruses his notes one more time, seemingly for no good
reason other than to give Merlin time. His shoulders relax just slightly at this small consideration
whatevers going on Gawain doesnt seem to be looking at Merlin with suspicion. Arthur can
detect that vibe blindfolded from twenty feet away.
Now, Mr Emrys, Gawain says. Ive explained to you already the circumstances in which the
body was found.
Merlin nods once. He hasnt looked away from the doors since they got here.
Your card was the only identifying item found on him.
Was he wearing it? His voice comes out rough and Arthurs fingers curl tighter around his.
Im sorry?
The coat. Was he wearing it?
Theres a pause and Gawain looks uncomfortable for a brief moment before he says, It was
draped over him. Like a blanket.
Merlins face spasms for a second. Then he just nods, helpless.
Theres another pause and then Gawain says, Whenever you feel youre ready, we can go
through. Theres nothing to worry about, and now his tone is gentle, nothing bad to see. He
isnt injured, he looks as though hes sleeping.
Yes, Merlin says, voice dull with pain. I can imagine.
If you are able to identify the individual, Ill have some questions for you after. All right?
He swallows. If it is who I think it is, I probably cant tell you much. But Ill try.
An expression passes over Gawain face that has Arthur tensing, a cynical weariness that should
never be directed at Merlin. Not Merlin.
He feels Merlin take a deep breath before he lets go of Arthurs hand, steps forward and pushes
through. Arthur hesitates for the first time, flicks a glance at Gawain who is watching him
narrowly, but makes no move to prevent him from following Merlin through the doors.
Someone in blue scrubs is waiting inside, hands folded on the edge of a gurney. She waits until
Gawain is inside the room, has rounded the gurney - to get an unimpeded view of both their faces,
Arthur realizes - and then she looks to Merlin.
Ill lift the sheet when youre ready, she says, her Scots accent very soft, and Arthur has a
moment to be thankful that people who work amongst ugly death every day can still remember
how hard it is for the rest of them.
Im ready, Merlin says, and his hand finds Arthurs again as she reaches for the sheet.
Arthur keeps his eyes locked on Merlin as she folds the fabric back and exposes a face. All the
breath goes out of Merlin in a rush and Arthur cant take his eyes off Merlins face, waiting for-
watching for-
Hes sad. Shattered. Disappointed. But its not that gut-wrenching look of grief Arthur knows,
Merlin doesnt look the way Gwen had looked when-
He wrenches his mind away from that time and refocuses on Merlin.
Its him, Merlin says finally, voice low and tired.
You know this individual? Gawain is formal and patient.
Merlin nods and Arthur looks down at the body for the first time. Oh shit. Fuck. Its a its a kid.
A teenager. His colour is all wrong, hes pale - of course - the waxy skin unmarked, though hes
clearly much thinner than he should be. There are cracks at the corners of his mouth and a cold
sore on his bottom lip.
I know him, Merlin is saying, hesitant. Well, I mean, weve spoken. I dont know much
about him, really. Probably nothing you havent already guessed, anyway, and the last words are
heavy.
Gawain nods to the woman who covers up the face.
Very well, then.
Do you- Merlin says suddenly, hesitates, than finishes, can I see the coat?
Gawain pauses, and Arthur sees the narrowing of his eyes, the first sign of real suspicion as he
looks at Merlin. Yes, he says slowly, and steps over to a corner of the room, to a stainless steel
table with a large bag on it. He snaps on a glove and reaches inside the bag, drawing out a folded
navy wool coat spattered with indeterminate stains Arthur really doesnt want to think about.
Gawain watches narrowly as Merlin reaches out a hand, hovering. He closes his eyes, lets out a
short breath and simply places his hand flat on the fabric. Arthur shifts to see his face, the stainless
steel and the lights around them creating an odd flash of light over Merlins closed lids for a
second, and his lips compress, sadder than ever. Then he draws his hand back.
Thank you, he says, and turns away.
Gawain blinks, suspicion fading, and Arthur realizes hed thought Merlin was going to try to
search the coat or something, perhaps palm something from a pocket. It pretty much confirms his
ideas on how a kid that young and so dreadfully skinny ended up dead.
The cop leads them out of the room and down some more corridors without another word. Its not
until they reach another room that he speaks again. If you dont mind, Mr Emrys, Id like to ask
you some questions. We might also need to ask you to sign a formal statement at some stage.
Merlin nods, weary and Gawain looks Arthur over but doesnt argue when he files into the
interview room as well and takes one of the seats opposite the sergeant.
What was the nature of your relationship with the deceased? he begins, and Arthur shoots him a
furious look, knowing full well what Gawain is implying. Gawain stares flatly back, no doubt
secretly amused at the display of jealousy.
We were God, I dont know. I couldnt exactly say friends. Acquaintances? Merlin shrugs,
then says matter-of-factly, I wasnt a client, if thats what youre asking. I dont patronize
hookers, and even if I did, he was just a kid. Arthur winces, flashing back to that pale, slack face.
A kid indeed, and the kind of things hed had to do to survive didnt bear thinking about.
You knew he was a prostitute, then?
Merlin shrugs again, but the words are heavy. He was a teenage runaway living on the streets. I
dont think he was in a position to make many good choices. He was probably anything and
everything, if the opportunity arose.
Gawain nods slowly at that, and Arthur can tell he believes what hes being told. Can you tell me
his name?
He always told me to call him Mo. Theres a pause, then Merlin says slowly, carefully, He did
let a name slip, once. Mordred. I dont know if it was a first or last name. I dont know where he
came from, either, though Id say he wasnt a Londoner. I had an idea he might be from the west,
not really sure why.
Gawain nods and makes a note. Can you tell me how you came to meet him?
Arthur relaxes a little at the conversational tone. Theres no threat there. Not now.
I was walking home from the pub one night, late, Merlin begins. Someone tossed him out of a
moving car at the end of the block. I went and helped him up. A tiny smile touches his mouth, I
think he was giving them lip, whoever they were. Then he saddens, abruptly. He had an
extremely smart mouth.
Gawain waits.
Anyway, I bought him a cup of coffee and a kebab. He abused me a bit and strolled off into the
night. I didnt see him again for weeks, but then one night I was walking home from the same pub
with a mate, he glances sideways at Arthur who thinks, Will, and there he was on the corner. He
offered- well, Merlin shrugs. Anyway I bought him something to eat, again, and he laughed at
me some more. But after that he seemed to relax a bit, stopped offering to suck m- he stops,
flushing. We ran into each other a bit more often after that, probably once or twice a month, I
guess.
How long did you know him?
That first time we met was probably eighteen months ago?
Gawain nods slowly, making some more notes. Did you know he was a drug user?
Merlins mouth turns sad and Arthur places a hand flat on his back, rubbing just slightly. I
figured it out after a while. I used to drop by with sandwiches or whatever and sometimes he was
well, the mood swings were a big clue. And then he got so thin.
Theres silence for a while. Then Gawain says, Tell me about the coat.
Blue eyes blink at him across the table. Winter was coming on. All he had was a denim jacket. I
went to an Oxfam shop and got him a proper coat.
Oh, Merlin, Arthur thinks, heart aching.
Theres another pause, then Merlin leans forward, rests his head on his hands and says, I tried
to well, I talked to him about kicking the habit. About the same time as the coat. It was a good
day, he was tired. Not angry. So I tried. Id found a treatment centre not far away. I made an
appointment, and he never showed.
He swallows, staring down at the table and Arthurs hand keeps moving on his back, instinctive.
I went looking for him and he was well, he was high. I tried again a few days later and he
promised to come to the next appointment. I gave him my card, and my number in case anything
went wrong. And this time he showed. But theyre so it was three months before they could
offer him a place and he just- Merlin scrubs a hand over his mouth. He was angry at himself this
time, I think. Wouldnt listen to me. And that was the last time I saw him.
Gawain lets out a long breath thats just short of a sigh. Arthur doesnt want to think about the
number of times hes heard a story like that one.
Did he you said he had the card on him? Merlin asks. I thought he mustve tossed it.
Gawain hesitates, eyes flicking to Arthur before he says, It was hidden inside the lining of the
coat.
Merlin closes his eyes at that and leans back, hands falling into his lap.
Then Gawain nods to himself, back to business. Did he give you any indicators of why he was
on the streets? What had driven him away from home?
Merlins mouth tightens. I think I dont think it went very well when he came out. In fact I
think you could say it went pretty fucking badly.
Arthur reaches for his hand under the table, squeezing hard. Merlin is shaking at whatever
memory that question has dragged up and he wonders for a moment about Wills past. The way
Merlin talks about his mother, well. Arthur can tell Hunith hadnt withdrawn from Merlin for
being gay, so its someone elses pain hes reliving.
Gawain nods slowly. Right, he says softly, makes another scratchy note on the file and then sits
back. Well, Mr Emrys. I, ah, thank you for your time.
Merlin doesnt move. Was it the drugs that killed him?
Gawain blinks. He hesitates, then says, It does look like an overdose, yes. We havent performed
an autopsy yet.
Merlin nods, miserable.
I know this has been difficult, Gawain says, very low. He hesitates, then says, Im sure youre
wishing you could have done more, but Im afraid thats not always possible.
Merlin hunches lower in his chair, and Arthur turns to place a hand on his shoulder, glancing
across at Gawain.
Well let you know if theres any more information.
Thank you, Arthur says, and he means it. Gawain could have played this quite differently.
The next several days are quiet and sad around the house. Merlin is haunted and Arthur has no
idea how to fix it. So he does what he always does, instead. He fiddles around with things in the
background. Fixing from a distance.
John Mordred, Merlin says, hanging up his phone on a sigh. From Cornwall.
Arthur blinks up at him. My mother was from Cornwall.
Well I sincerely hope she wasnt a Mordred, Merlin says, lips in a flat line. The arseholes dont
want anything to do with him, apparently. Not even now that hes dead and cant taint them by
being gay anymore. He swallows, hard, and then says, voice breaking, Arthur, he was only
sixteen. Which means he was fifteen at most when I met him.
Ah, God.
Im sorry, he says softly, helplessly. He doesnt know what else to do. Merlin has spent the past
few nights out, at Gwens place one night, and, hes pretty sure, on another, walking the streets
few nights out, at Gwens place one night, and, hes pretty sure, on another, walking the streets
Mordred had once worked, talking to the boys friends. There was a very long phone call with
Will, which seemed to help for a little while. But his eyes are heavy and red, the spark has gone
out.
I know you are, Merlin says, and manages a smile. I know.



Theyve released the body, Merlin says, appearing suddenly in his bedroom doorway. Its
already gone. Who wouldve-
I made some arrangements, Arthur says, surprised into admitting it. Then says, Um.
You what?
He shrugs, uncomfortable. I thought there should be a proper burial.
Arthur, Merlin says, eyes wide. I you didnt have to thats - thank you.
He shifts on the bed. Its nothing.
Its not nothing, Merlin says, very soft. Not to me.
He raises a shoulder and keeps his eyes on his book. The funeral home should be calling you
today, he says instead. They were supposed to have called him by now, actually, so that there
would have been no need for this conversation.
Merlin nods and holds up his phone. Battery dead. Im about to plug it in, he says, eyes
narrowing as he stares at Arthur. As if hes now a mind-reader, he says, You wouldnt have told
me. Would you.
Arthur stares blandly back. Why on earth would you think that, Merlin?
He doesnt answer, but the tiny smile at the corner of his mouth is the first Arthurs seen in days,
and when they attend the funeral on Tuesday morning, he looks a little less haunted, stands a little
straighter.
A silent, shattered young girl has shown up from Cornwall, a high school friend apparently, and it
seems to lighten Merlins load somehow, that someone cared enough to come from home. Its a
small, sad group gathered to farewell the boy, including Gwen and Gaius, and it rains enough to
evoke every movie clich. Merlin slides his hand into Arthurs at the graveside, and holds it all the
way home.



A few days later Arthur arrives home with his hands full of grocery bags to an empty house. He
frowns for a moment, low-level worry for Merlin at the back of his mind as he restocks the fridge
and pantry. Hes been better, ever since the funeral, Arthur thinks. Still sad sometimes, but
recovering. He stacks a box of tea on top of the biscuits and opens the pantry.
The door gives up the will to live in that exact moment, falling off its hinges completely and he
barely avoids getting smashed in the face, staggering back with his hands full of hideously ugly
laminate and broken biscuits. The tea lands on his foot and he sighs.
You couldnt have held on for two more weeks? he murmurs to the door. Ah well. Hes lived
with worse. Hes leaning the door against the far wall when the back door flies opens in a hurry
and startles the bloody life out of him.
Arthur, are you-
Jesus, Merlin, he says, gasping. He drops his hand hastily. He did not just clutch at his chest like
someones maiden aunty.
I heard a- oh, Merlin says, his eyes fixing on the pantry. Finally crapped out, huh? He
refocuses on Arthur, Youre all right, though?
He rolls his eyes, thinking, if I survived roadside bombs in Afghanistan I can cope with a wonky
cupboard door, but if he didnt say that stuff to Morgana a year ago when it was fresh hes
certainly not going to say it to Merlin, now. So instead Arthur shrugs and returns to the shopping.
Im fine. We knew it wouldnt last much longer.
Yeah. Merlin eyes him and shifts from foot to foot, then leans back to look at something outside.
Um.
He slides the tea and biscuits onto a shelf and sighs. He knows that Um. Its the first word hed
ever heard Merlin say, completely ridiculous that it had somehow sunk into him and lit up every
particle of his skin, alive for the first time in years, possibly ever. The same Um that had charmed
him into building shelves for Gaius and absolutely did not appear in his dreams.
What have you done now, Merlin? he turns and folds his arms, trying to hide his amusement
and affection. Merlin has a beautiful, open nature, but theres no point letting him know just how
very far Arthur is prepared to indulge him.
One of these days Merlin will leave, and if he doesnt, then Arthur will have to do the leaving. No
point both of them getting hurt, which means Merlin is better off thinking Arthur only tolerates
him.
Nothing, Merlin says defensively, eyes sliding away from Arthurs face. Um.
Arthur bites back a laugh. So you havent done anything yet.
He flushes.
Arthur saunters forward, toward the back door and Merlins eyes widen. He slaps a hand to either
side of the door frame and clings as hes just created a force field that will hold Arthur back. I,
was actually, I was wondering
Yes, Merlin? he keeps going, and only then does he realize that this little game of his is going to
put them right up against each other if neither of them backs away. He halts, abruptly, still very
close to Merlin, close enough to feel the chilled air coming through the half-open door.
If you had any objection to uh, pets. Merlin swallows and raises his eyebrows hopefully. At
all?
Arthur blinks at him. Pets?
A pet, he says hastily. One. Singular.
Singular, all right, Arthur thinks, and sighs. What, exactly, are we talking about, Merlin? Hes
pessimistic enough to be picturing Saint Bernards and noisy parakeets as he steps forward again
and this time Merlin yields. So hes completely wrong-footed when he steps outside and is
confronted with the worlds most pathetic looking cat.
For a start, its damp from the rain. And thin. Theres patches of fur missing and several nasty
looking scars around one ear and one eye. Its curled in a defensive crouch, up against the back
wall of the house, beneath the old bench the previous tenants had left behind.
Oh. He says.
Shit, is what hes thinking, because the cat alone is enough to do him in, and Merlin hasnt even
turned on the pleading eyes yet. He is not supposed to be acquiring things to care about. He
already has Gwen and Morgana and Lance. And, oh fuck, just admit it, Merlin.
You know, Merlin, he says, trying to stave off the inevitable, sometimes a stray cant adjust-
Hed be no trouble, Merlin begins.
He might not even want-
What? Regular meals? Not to be thrown off a fucking roof?
Arthur takes a step back at Merlins vehemence. No, I- Merlin. Im not saying no. Im just
saying, be careful.
Merlin is flushing, he glances away, hands sliding into his back pockets. Sorry. Its just hes
been mistreated, Arthur. That doesnt make him dangerous, or, or undeserving. Everything
deserves to be cared for. To feel safe and- and loved.
Arthur swallows. Merlin, he says slowly, its none of my business if you want to keep it. You
dont have to ask my permission. I just dont want to see you scratched to ribbons by a feral
animal.
Merlins head turns and Arthur blinks at the warm amusement appearing on his face, on the heels
of that righteous anger. His lips twitch before he says, It actually is your business, Arthur,
considering its your house.
Oh. He blinks. Right. He keeps on bloody forgetting that part and he has the distinct feeling
Merlin knows it. Its just - it feels like Merlins been with him always. Well Im not some Nazi
landlord, he blusters awkwardly, youre a grown-up. If you want the cat, then have the bloody
cat. As long as it doesnt crap all over the house or shred my sheets, I dont care.
He has absolutely no way of dealing with the deep, knowing affection on Merlins face, so he
turns his gaze back to the cornered-looking thing. They stare at each other balefully for a moment
and then, on instinct, Arthur says, Youve already named it, havent you?
Merlin shifts beside him and says, Um.


Chapter 6


Dragon.
Merlin shrugs.
Youre honestly youre calling a bloody cat, Dragon.
It feels right.
It feels moronic, Arthur snorts, eyeing the beast again. Its been bathed, now, and through some
feat of magic Merlin was not completely shredded in the process. Of course, that made it look
even more rat-like for the first half hour or so, until the fur had started to regain some bulk as it
dried. But Merlins right. Some arsehole had he took a deep breath. The cat had been badly
treated. There were more scars beneath that fur.
The name reflects his nature, not his size, Merlin says loftily. Hed have a bit more convincing
authority if his hair wasnt sticking up in small tufts. Arthur has somehow neglected to mention the
effect of soapy hands running through Merlins hair. Hes already emailed a photo to Gwen and
Morgana.
Hes a proud fighter. Merlin looks down at his rat. On the inside, he amends.
Im sure, Arthur says dryly.
He is. He was tortured, Arthur, he says, suddenly impassioned. He could have become
completely twisted but he didnt let them change who he was. He blinks under Arthurs surprised
stare and pulls back inside himself, colour in his cheeks. He grins suddenly, He likes the pantry,
though.
Yes, Arthur sighs and eyes it balefully. Its probably the by-product of a long-term strays
instinct for the next meal that the cat is sitting on the packet of broken biscuits, staring haughtily
back. I had noticed.

* * *

Theyre waiting to use the chip-and-pin machine when it happens. The guy in front shoves his
cash into his pocket and turns, his eyes dropping to where Arthur had rested his hand, just for a
second, on the nape of Merlins neck, giving a gentle rub. Hes been doing that a lot since
Mordred. Whenever he senses Merlin is feeling blue which actually, is pretty often, since
Mordred.
Fucking fag, the muttered words almost dont register for Merlin over the warmth of Arthurs
hand. Almost. No-one in this day and age can quite ignore that stuff and he carefully takes note of
their surroundings, the near-empty street, the gathering darkness.
At his side, Arthur straightens, his hand dropping away from Merlin as he turns, putting himself
squarely between Merlin and the homophobe. Excuse me? he says without hesitation. Its a
perfectly measured response, flat and strong and unafraid.
Arthur- Merlin begins, one hand reaching.
The stocky man sneers. You heard me.
Yes I did. And though its hard to believe, your manners are even uglier than your coat. You
owe us an apology.
Merlin turns the other way, eyeing the two blokes whod sauntered off to wait for their friend on
the corner. Theyre outnumbered, which is never good, and hes pretty crap at fighting. Running
is more his lark, and hes never been too sure just what, exactly, his stupid luck could do to help in
this kind of situation. But he can tell Arthur isnt going to let this go, its written in the set of his
shoulders. So Merlin keeps his eyes on the bystanders and waits.
Fuck off, the idiot says with a sneer, and without any warning, takes a swing at Arthur.
Theres about four seconds of confusion where Merlin instinctively stumbles out of the way to
avoid tripping Arthur, the two guys on the corner take a couple of steps forward and then
everything stops.
Oh dear, Arthur says, his voice light and utterly controlled. That didnt go very well for you,
did it?
Merlin just gapes.
Arthur has the guy pressed against the building, cheek grinding into the brick. One of Arthurs
hands is on the back of his neck, the other is holding the mans right wrist, extending his arm back
behind him in a straight line. Hes not even breathing heavily. He has complete command of the
idiot bully, and its one of the hottest things Merlins ever seen.
The dickhead is trying to struggle under Arthurs hands, his curses indistinct considering his
mouth is dragging against the wall. Arthur casts a casual eye toward his friends on the corner who
are mouth-open-blinking like theyve just seen an alien craft landing on Clerkenwell Road.
Theyre not moving. No-one with a surviving hindbrain would step toward a display of power
like that.
Now, Arthur says, I may be, as you so charmingly remarked, a fag. But I just so happen to be
a fag who formerly served as a para in Her Majestys Army, and I can happily do this all night.
He doesnt tighten his grip or raise his voice, this is exactly the same Arthur who mused
thoughtfully over what kind of tile to use in the upstairs bathroom, and at the same time hes a
stranger. Merlin swallows, torn between nervous adrenaline and lust. This possibly explains where
Arthur goes when he leaves the house in loose, worn clothing and comes back dripping in sweat.
So. Arthur tilts his head. Im going to give you a choice over what happens next. You can
stamp your foot once to say Im a dickhead and please let me go, or stamp your foot twice to say I
would like to try my luck again. But I am telling you now, he continues, matter of fact, that if
you choose to keep going, at least one of your knees will never be the same again.
Theres a pause. Then he says coolly, Its up to you.
Hes still so bloody posh, Merlin thinks, equally amazed and amused. He shifts to keep the two
guys waiting at the corner in view, over Arthurs shoulder. Theyre shuffling like restless horses,
but never actually getting any closer.
The guy struggles under Arthurs hand for another few seconds, then goes very still. Arthur turns
his head to regard the two guys on the corner thoughtfully, and the shifting ceases abruptly though
they continue muttering back and forth. Then theres the sound of a foot stamping on the bitumen,
once.
Arthur refocuses on the back of the guys head.
Excellent, he says, and releases him, stepping back calmly. He stays within reach, positioned
between Merlin and the other man, watching as the guy pulls his arm forward, wrapping it
protectively around himself and glares at Arthur in fury. He opens his mouth to speak and
Arthurs eyebrow flicks up.
He stops. His eyes flicker to his mates, then to Merlin, then back to Arthur. His fury is palpable,
but he steps away, shoulders hunched.
If I hear of any gay bashing in this area, Arthur says softly to the mans back, Ill come looking
for you, mate. I hope you understand me.
Theres a hitch in the guys step, but he doesnt look back. Arthur watches him all the way to the
corner, the bad tempered way he shrugs off his mates, and then they round the corner and are out
of sight. Then he turns back to face Merlin, who is gaping.
Arthur, he says helplessly, that was bloody unbelievable.
Arthur shrugs, face unreadable. Merlin, it was nothing. And he waits patiently while Merlin
draws out some cash, then commences strolling toward the pub like hes actually telling the truth.

* * *

They are sprawled on their stomachs in the kitchen, allegedly testing the underfloor heating system
Arthur has just helped to install. Winter is closing in and they apparently need to figure out how
long it takes to heat up, so Arthur can set the timer on the system. Dragon is sprawled out nearby,
boneless, but he keeps getting up and circling to a new spot. Arthur thinks hes testing for the best
possible vantage point. The perfect storm of warm floor and weak sunlight, hed said, mouth
quirking.
Merlin props his head in his hands and narrows his eyes at the game in front of him. B7, he
says, and has another sip of beer.
Miss, Arthur says, smug as ever. He has an extremely competitive streak that isnt particularly
attractive.
Finally, Merlin thinks morosely. More than three months in and hes discovered one thing about
Arthur that isnt completely captivating.
E3, Arthur says. Hes staring at the game intensely, as if he can instinctively divine Merlins
tactics. His big mistake there is assuming Merlin has any. Hes done his usual Battleship technique
of clumping all his ships together. If Arthur gets a hit at all hes totally fried, but its worth a shot,
and since Arthurs never played before, theres a chance he wont guess what Merlins doing.
Hes fairly certain that Arthur, on the other hand, is re-enacting some famous naval battle in his
head.
Miss. He sets his beer down and shifts onto his back, staring up at the ceiling. He slants one
look over at Arthur, remembering the way hed stood before the womans table at the car boot
sale, frowning at the Battleship box, one ripped corner joint just like every pre-owned kids game
in existence, saying Well, Ive never played. K2.
Miss. B3.
Shit. Hit, Merlin mutters, resigned to losing now, and Arthur makes a small noise of satisfaction.
Put a red thingy on that spot. He cant even mind, really, though Arthur will be insufferable for
a good half hour after winning. Hed bought the damn game, after all.
Yes, Merlin, I remember the incredibly simple principles you explained.
What sort of bloody childhood had Arthur had? Never played Battleship? D4. And then the
words just slip out, Arthur, how rich are you?
Miss, Arthur is already saying when he chokes on his beer. What?
Merlin can feel the flush spreading across his cheeks. Um. Sorry. Not to be crass, but.
B4, Arthur says automatically, still staring.
Hit, Merlin says, and rolls onto his side, meeting Arthurs eyes with difficulty. I um, was just
youve really never played Battleship?
Is it an essential part of English childhood? Arthur asks slowly, and hes wary now.
I dunno. Merlin is feeling stupid, but he has to try to explain. I just its not that I care. About
money.
And oddly enough, Arthur relaxes at that, murmurs, I know that, Merlin, in a low tone that
warms the room more than the underfloor heating.
So he shrugs. Im just, curious, I guess. Theres this house, he waves his hand, and
Morgana, and well, you. He swallows and hesitates.
B5.
Miss. Theres a dissatisfied noise from Arthur that has him grinning, and gives him courage
enough to say, I guess Ive been wondering if youre just in the, um, old family money category
or is it the I invented YouTube thing where you own your own Caribbean island and Richard
Branson calls you for favours. Then he adds, A4.
Arthur is staring again but some of the edge has gone. His eyes flick down and he says, Miss,
automatically, then kind of shrugs. Um. Its the former. Theres a trust fund.
Merlin nods hastily, Right. He doesnt want details. He still cant quite believe he actually said
that to Arthur, oh god he really is an idiot sometimes. Theres an awkward silence and then he
says, Your turn.
B2.
He sighs. Hit and sink. Here we go.
It was totally worth the two quid he paid for the game to see Arthurs smile.
It was totally worth the two quid he paid for the game to see Arthurs smile.


* * *

His mother arrives by the early train one Friday morning. Arthur, of course, being Arthur, has
completely ignored his painstaking renovation schedule. Hes abandoned the rest of the kitchen
and finished the upstairs bathroom instead so that Merlins mother would be able to shower and
apply cold cream to her slowly-ageing face in comfort.
They had finally reached a painful compromise wherein Hunith stays in Merlins room still the
only one with a finished paint job and floor coverings - while Merlin sleeps on a mattress in the
room across the hall, where the belongings of the mysterious Lance are stored.
Oh my goodness, his mother is saying as he opens the front door. What a lovely
neighbourhood. Oh, Merlin, youve fallen on your feet this time, love.
I know, he huffs, and drags her bag over the threshold. Come on, Mum, come in and sit
down.
Arthur appears in the hallway as Merlin is closing the door. He smiles at Hunith, who blinks,
dazzled just like every other poor human that crosses Arthurs path. Mrs Emrys, he says,
Welcome. Its lovely to meet you.
Oh. Merlins extremely proud that she gathers herself together in less than three seconds. Better
recovery than her son can manage, at any rate, and hes had considerably more practice. Well.
You must be Arthur. You have a fabulous home, my dear.
He flushes and smiles wider at the compliment than Merlins ever seen him do for a personal one.
Well, hopefully well be able to do it justice. Youll have to come back and see it in all its glory,
when were done, he replies, ushering her into the kitchen smoothly and leaving Merlin to hump
her bag up three flights of stairs. Halfway up he realizes Arthur had said when were done and he
flushes. God. Typical Arthurian generosity, making it seem like Merlin was part of the effort when
all hed done really was help to rip up some carpet and carry the other end of the heavy items.
When he makes it back down to the kitchen he is completely unsurprised to find Arthur and his
mother bonding over tea and special biscuits theyre not just chocolate, theyre from Harrods
which had mysteriously appeared in the cupboard yesterday. They dont appear to be missing
Merlins presence at all. Hes beginning to suspect Arthur might be a bit in love with Hunith.
It probably helps that shes exclaiming over the heated stone floor thats just been laid in the
kitchen, Arthur had agonized over that choice for a month, and then sweated over the installation
for another week.
His mother beams over at him as he sinks into a chair beside her, and the absent squeeze she gives
his hand brings the same warmth it did when he was nine, or fifteen. I love you best, and always.
He squeezes it back, hoping she can translate it the same way he does, that she hears the youve
always been my best and I know Im lucky that he always bungles if hes saying it aloud.
It burns a little brighter today, thinking of poor Mordred and the hundreds of other young sods
who dont have a Mum like his, one wholl blink and say, oh darling, I knew that when hed
painfully stammered out the I think Im a bit gay speech, and then enfold him in the same
unaltered love every day since. He squeezes her hand again, for luck.
Theres a cup of tea waiting and he sips slowly, leaning back to make room for Dragon when he
leaps up into Merlins lap. He listens to his mum and Arthur discuss the birthday present for
Hunith that prompted the trip - tickets to the ballet - and whether spring can hold on just long
enough so they can visit Alexandra Park tomorrow, and then the talk slowly turns to the house
and whats going to be done in the kitchen. Then they decamp so that the whole house can be
properly examined as part of a tour. Merlin rinses out the cups in the kitchen, smiling to himself at
the mingled sounds of their voices.


Having Hunith in the house is both torture and pleasure for Arthur.
Up to now hed been half-inclined to believe mischievous elves left a newborn babe under an oak
tree somewhere, so fey and unexpected was Merlin. Half a dozen times hed wanted to ask about
Merlins family, only to bite the words back because inevitably, it would lead the other man to ask
about his family, too.
But now shes here, and he can see the shrewd, kindly nature that has shaped Merlin into the
clumsy, beautiful, magical idiot that he is. And it leaves Arthur aching, suddenly and sharply, for
the mother he never knew, and wondering if it would have made any difference at all.
Then, of course, comes the backlash of guilt, for wishing, even faintly, that someone else might
have had to share the hell hes been through. Its wrong, he knows it. This burden is his to bear.
After all, hes been groomed to bear responsibility his whole life, and only a coward shuns his
duty. Its bad enough that Morgana caught the edges of it.
Arthur? The soft voice is unexpected, and he jumps, starting upright from where hed been
slumped against the back wall of the house. Dragon eyes him balefully, as usual, and re-curls
himself into a grey ball on the bench next to Arthur.
Mrs Emrys.
She closes the back door gently, the way she does everything, it seems and slides onto the bench
beside him before he can stand, almost lost in an oversized cardigan. What a pretty spot, she
murmurs. Oh, thisll be lovely in the warmer months. Her hand comes to rest on Dragons head
and she scratches his ears absently, without looking down.
Arthur squints around the garden. Well - the overgrown mess of green he inherited. Ye-es, he
says doubtfully. Im afraid Im not very good with growing things.
Merlins got a bit of a green thumb, she offers. I can come back and work on it with him
sometime if youd like. Hes too lazy to start it himself but once you get him going
He swallows, unused to such careless generosity. Id like that, he says. Thank you, Mrs
Emrys.
I think, she says, you should call me Hunith.
And when he looks over at her she is smiling at him very warmly. Im so happy to have met you,
Arthur, she says. I was worrying about Merlin a bit - with Will gone. But I can see hes found a
true friend in you. I can go home and worry about other things instead, she says with a wry
smile.
Hes not sure what to say to that, but she doesnt seem to require a reply.
Now, what have we here? She reaches for the basket resting on the bricks at their feet.
A bit of a mix, he says, clearing his throat. Hes stopped the major construction after Huniths
arrival, Merlin had rolled his eyes when Arthur had mumbled about the noise. Its been busywork
and mad cleaning for the past few days, except for when Merlin and Hunith had gone out Friday
night, and yesterdays walk in the Park. Mostly door handles, hinges. Things like that.
All bits youve removed from the house, are they?
He nods, and restarts his cleaning, scraping the stiff wire bristles over the stubborn paint. I try to
reuse as much as I can. Some are from my previous projects you never know what might be
useful.
Smart, she approves. And thrifty. Arthurs hands fumble for a moment. Hes not used to
praise on either of those fronts.
She takes a rag from the pile and tips some turpentine onto it, commences cleaning before he can
protest. And she talks quietly about the garden, the paving they can already see beneath
overgrown grass, something about north-facing and the view from the wide kitchen windows. By
the time Merlin stumbles outside, rubbing his eyes, she has a tentative plan sketched out in her
head and Arthur has the feeling hes been firmly adopted.

Chapter 7
Chapter Summary
He wants Arthur to feel the same way he does oh, nice, now even his subconscious
is being ironic about the table, just about the table.

Um. Merlin starts, and hes aware this is not the best way to begin. Arthur.
Yes, Merlin, he says without looking up from sanding the stairs.
Ive bought something. For the house.
Arthur stops sanding and glances back over his shoulder. Im sorry, what did you say?
He unfurls his hands and gestures, then proffers his phone. Words arent really working for him
today, and hes so oddly nervous. Its not like its such a big deal, as Arthur keeps saying, he lives
here, hes not a guest. But he feels somehow the stakes are high.
He wants Arthur to feel the same way he does oh, nice, now even his subconscious is being
ironic about the table, just about the table.
Arthur rises and steps softly down to the hallway, taking Merlins phone and, after one quizzical
look, glances down at the picture on the screen. He blinks.
Merlin leans in, biting his lip, wanting to see it again.
Its um, from an old school, he begins, nervous. Was used in the staff dining hall, apparently.
Schofields an old liar, so for all I know its actually a seventies knock-off hes had out the back of
his place for years Arthur slants him a look that says we both know better than that, Merlin,
and he flushes at the implied compliment.
He cant say it was a good place, a nice school, and the Headmaster was desperately in love with
the German teacher who was unhappily married, even though thats what flashed through his
head when he touched it. Hes never been able to tell anyone that stuff - well, only Will, and his
mum. Sometimes hes on the verge of telling Arthur, and then reality washes over him again, the
way Arthur had sounded cold and deadly when hed said, It ruins lives, Merlin.
I um, theres a church pew as well that would go nicely on one side, he goes on, nervously,
swipes at the screen until he finds the photo of it. I spotted it a few weeks ago in Brixton but it
seemed mad to just, you know, on the off chance, but now
He gestures toward the kitchen and the crappy round laminate table theyve been eating at for
months. It lists heavily to the right, making soup and cereal one hell of a challenge.
He glances up, arrested because Arthurs not looking at the phone, hes staring at Merlin. And
smiling. Small, bemused, fond. You found the perfect setup for this house, he says, wondering.
He shrugs, and the butterflies in his stomach escape into prattle. Its no big deal. I love this place,
and I just this was the right table, I knew it the minute I saw it. If youre not sold on the pew- I
mean, I didnt have any measurements so Im not even sure if itll fit against the wall
Merlin, Arthur says, handing back the phone. Im sure its just exactly right. He sounds very
serious, and Merlins eyes fly to his when he cups his shoulder, squeezes briefly. Thank you.

* * *

The shared lazy mornings are the best part of the weekend, both of them gathered around the long
table thats taken pride of place in the kitchen. They make a massive pot of tea in the fat brown
teapot Merlin had brought home from an estate auction a Sadler? I dont think so, Ted and
hed unleashed his skeptical eyebrow, shamed the dealer into admitting it was nothing special and
promptly bought it for himself for a song
Then they spend the next hour or two sprawled along the church pew, lazily sipping, making toast
and leafing through their respective addictions.
Arthurs is an eclectic bunch. Often, of course, its home renovation/building/landscaping/real
estate stuff. Work stuff, as Merlin thinks of it. Sometimes its TIME magazine or National
Geographic. But hes just as likely to be reading Nelson Mandelas biography or books with titles
like The End of Poverty.
Merlins is always work related, sad sap that he is. Antiquities and collectibles, lions and tigers
and bears, oh my. Lately hes trying to get ahead of the flood of Chinese and Asian works that are
passing through the auction houses.
At some point one of them trawls through the newspaper and they idly plan a trip to a local boot
sale or market for the afternoon or the next day. Theres never any hurry.
But its the quiet that makes these mornings magic. Neither of them ever suggests putting on some
music, or the telly. Their phones are usually left in the front room, too. They just breathe.

* * *

Its another Thursday, Merlin notices absently, when Arthur comes home late, silent and tired and
hurt, somehow. And its the look on his face that triggers the memory.
There was that first time, when Merlin had wondered if perhaps it was an anniversary of
something sad. His mothers death, maybe? Gaius had said shed died young. But its happening
too frequently for that. Thered been another day, early on hes not sure when exactly but hed
seen the same look on Arthurs face before hed shut himself in his bedroom and not emerged
until morning.
And now this.
Merlin hasnt long arrived home himself, having gone on for drinks with Gwen in town after an
auction. Perhaps that explains his persistence this time, swaying gently in the kitchen doorway and
asking whats wrong.
Nothings wrong, Arthurs voice is quiet but firm, and he hits the switch for the kettle but makes
no move to find a mug or the tea.
Something is. Somethings wrong. Somethings hurting you, he cant bring himself to say.
Ive had a long day and Im tired, Merlin, he says, and theres a finality to it like a blade held
against the skin.
Merlin goes cold all over, and hes suddenly very, very sober. The sick feeling in his gut wont let
him step back from this. Not from this man, and never when hes hurting. Arthur, he says
slowly, I I understand that you are doing me an incredible favour, here.
Blue eyes blink at him in confusion and he clarifies, Letting me stay here. Accepting ridiculously
low rent. Tolerating my clumsiness and my inappropriate way with words.
But- he swallows as he closes the gap between them, wondering if hes about to screw it all up
irretrievably, -if the price of that is that Im expected to pretend, to make out that I dont notice
theres something ripping you to fucking shreds, then Arthur, Im afraid I have to break our deal. I
cant pretend, I wont.
Now Arthur draws himself upright, denial at the ready. The kettle hits boiling point and clicks off,
leaving the kitchen silent except for their voices.
Please. Merlin whispers it. Please. Cant you tell me? I know I act like an imbecile half the
time but you can trust me, Arthur. Id never betray your confidence, Id never hurt you, I
wouldnt-
Merlin, Arthur breaks in, youve got the wrong-
Dont, he says, twisting away. Christ, dont tell me nothings dont lie right to my face,
Arthur.
Theres silence - hollow and full of regret.
Merlin, Arthur finally says, I cant. I cant talk about it. Im sorry. And he sounds wretched,
like the words are being torn from him. I trust you, I do. But I just-
He just nods, staring down at his feet for a minute. Then he swallows. Right then. And lifts his
head, looking Arthur straight in the eye as he steps forward. Hes almost giddy with the risk hes
taking and hes dimly aware it might, possibly, just might be the whiskey talking. If you wont
talk to me about it, youre going to have to let me help in some other way.
Polite confusion is forming on Arthurs face, and it drops away like a stone when Merlin reaches
out to place his hand over the crotch of Arthurs jeans. He stutters, blinking madly.
If you cant tell me, Merlin whispers, leaning close enough to kiss, but not actually going that
far, If you wont let me listen, then I am going to wipe that look off your face the best way I
know how.
Merlin.
He draws in a slow breath, feeling Arthurs cock spring to hardness beneath his fingers. First
question answered, then. Last chance, he murmurs. You can talk to me about your problems,
or I can suck away all your cares and woes. For a while, at least.
Merlin, Arthur chokes, voice wracked with the sudden onslaught of lust.
All right, then. And he flicks open the button with one hand, peels down the zipper and listens
to the shaky gasp that flies out of Arthurs mouth. He doesnt have to ask to know its been a
while. A long time since Arthur was touched like this. Hes a freaking island, always aloof,
always thinking he cant have the things everyone else takes for granted.
He looks up, meets Arthurs eyes and holds that look as he sinks to his knees.
Arthur gasps, staring down at Merlin like he hung the moon.
Merlin parts his lips and gently fists Arthurs cock, slides it inside the wet heat of his mouth.
Fuck, Arthur moans, and its absolutely guttural, like it was wrenched out of his chest against
his will. Merlin.
He closes his eyes and lets the sensation guide him, tongue running over the hard length, listening
to Arthurs gasps and choked-off cries, feels the way hes holding himself so still, wont thrust
forward or shove blindly, Merlin knows this without thinking about it. He sucks hard, suddenly
and feels the tension ratchet up a notch inside Arthur. The man has so much bloody control.
Merlins free hand slides inside Arthurs underwear, cupping his balls gently, rolling them
between his fingers and that prompts another explosive gasp from Arthur, a solid clunk like oh,
one foot slamming back against the kitchen cupboard.
Merlin opens his eyes and drags them upward, unwraps his hand from around Arthurs cock and
reaches down to undo his own jeans. Jesus, God, this is the hottest thing thats happened to him in
years. Possibly ever. Arthurs cock in his mouth and their eyes lock.
Merlin, Arthur moans and hes shattered, red flush high on his cheekbones and eyes hopelessly
dilated, biting madly at his lips and the sight of it just as Merlins hand finds his own dick is just
too much. He tongues the slit, then sucks hard, hollowing his cheeks and moving his hand
frantically and Arthur flings his head back, a choked, Oh God, Merlin, I- and then hes coming,
wordless and broken and Merlin is swallowing, moaning around it as his own climax smashes
through him. He finally releases Arthur and slumps against his leg, shuddering through the
aftershocks for long, silent seconds, wave after wave after wave while Arthur gasps above him.
When he finally stands, hes oddly calm. He reaches around Arthur for a tea towel and cleans
himself up, listening to Arthurs still-shuddering breaths. He straightens their clothing, returns
them both to a state of decency and folds the cloth over in his hands until its a neat little parcel.
Then he leans in, lips against Arthurs ear. His eyes, angled down, catch the shift as Arthurs belly
hollows and his chest expands on a sudden inhale. Responding to Merlin.
Arthur, he murmurs, very soft. You are one of the finest people Ive ever met. You shouldnt
be so alone. Whatever it is you think youve done, you dont deserve this punishment.
And then he leaves.

* * *

God knows how things would have gone after that if theyd run into each other at breakfast. But
instead of some pretence at normalcy, or sudden awkwardness, or a painful conversation about
what had happened in the kitchen, they get a whole day apart to decompress, and then a sudden
explosion of larger-than-life personality.
He lets himself into the house in the afternoon, heart hammering, and instead of awkwardness in
the hallway gets a hard glance and an overly large hand engulfing his. Merlin, right? Im Lance.
Um. Hello? Merlin says, confused. The man is dark and beautiful, and hes giving Merlin a
careful once over in a completely non-sexual way.
Im a mate of Arthurs.
Right. Oh, he says then, suddenly remembering the pile of Lances stuff stored in the small
room where Merlin had slept while his mum was in residence. He drops his keys on the bookcase
and shrugs out of his coat. Lance, yes, right. I remember.
Hes probably not showing to best advantage, hes spent all day conducting various imaginary
arguments with Arthur. To be honest, its a little disappointing not being able to use his best
material, plus some of those arguments had ended with the two of them in bed, since part of
Merlins particular brand of self-delusion was that hope apparently did spring eternal. Hes been
torn between arousal and nerves all day.
Gwens working, Lance says, like this should mean something to Merlin, who nods gamely.
She wont be over here until late so we thought wed head out to the pub first. You up for it?
Uh sure. I guess.
So Lance and Gwen, then? This possibly explained the tense lines Gwen got when
relationships were the topic of conversation. Because other, incidental hints were surfacing now,
helped along by Lances buzz-cut and overdefined muscles. Hes a soldier, on deployment
somewhere sandy and insanely dangerous.
Arthur appears at the top of the stairs then, and theres a frozen moment where they dont quite
look past each other, a kind of inevitable your-dick-in-my-mouth-just-yesterday awkwardness.
Hi, Arthur finally says. You met Lance, then.
Yep, Merlin says, equally obvious and idiotic. Just now.
Glad we sorted that out, Lance raises his eyebrows. Hows about we start drinking?



Its without a doubt the stupidest drinking game Merlins ever participated in, which well, the list
is long, but still. It can mostly be blamed on the players.
Okay, Gwen shifts around and gets more comfortable, legs tucked under her. Okay. The cast
of Sherlock.
Hmm, Arthur narrows his eyes, thinking hard.
Theres not even any chicks in that, Lance protests.
Then broaden your horizons, Merlin says lazily, grinning.
Then broaden your horizons, Merlin says lazily, grinning.
Theres Anthea, Gwen offers. Yknow - shes always on the phone. And Sally Donovan - the
mean cop.
Fine. Lance scowls. Cliff bloody Sherlock, shag Sally, marry Anthea.
Cliff Mycroft, shag Sherlock, marry John, Arthur says, but he doesnt sound sold on his
choices.
Cliff Moriarty, shag Sherlock, marry John, Gwen corrects.
Oh my God, you two are so boring, Merlin moans. And shortsighted. Clearly the correct
answer is cliff John, shag Sherlock, marry Lestrade. Have you never heard that man speak?
Hm, I forgot him, Arthur says. Youre right, hes got something. But cliff John? It doesnt
seem right, somehow.
Its nothing personal, Merlin defends. I like John, its just. Theres just no way you could pass
up shagging Sherlock.
Excellent point. Okay, Arthur says, how about the cast of the Star Trek reboot?
Oh for fucks sake, Lance says, how about we pick something with some women in it?
Youre outvoted, Gwen says airily and Lance mock-glares at her and murmurs something about
discrimination.
Cliff Chekov, shag Spock, shag Kirk, shag McCoy, shag Sulu, Merlin says, giggling into his
glass. Shag Pike and Nero, too.
I concur, Gwen snorts, leaning into him.
Hell, shag Uhura as well, Arthur says, seriously. She is hot.
My turn, Merlin says, and Arthurs lips twitch like he knows exactly whats coming. Reservoir
Dogs.
It takes Lance a second to realize its an all male cast. Oh, fuck you all, Lance says, and storms
off into the kitchen.
They fall over one another laughing, and Merlin cant remember the last time he felt this loose.
Two hours later Gwen is asleep on the couch, a blanket tucked in carefully around her by Lance.
Merlin watches, dumbstruck, at the gentleness of those meaty hands and the darkness of regret and
desire in his eyes as he sinks down next to her and just watches her sleep.
When Merlin glances over to Arthur he finds nothing but a locked-down profile as he stares out
into the night. Theres the oddest feeling of a silent battle occurring in the room. Finally Lance
sighs and says, I cant just stop being what I am, Arthur.
It has the tired sound of an old argument and Merlin freezes in his spot by the iPod dock. Hes
fairly sure theyve forgotten hes there.
You do have other choices, though, Arthur says, voice extremely controlled. You dont have
to join the SAS.
You of all people know what it took to earn that, Lance says tightly. I worked my arse off, for
years.
And then Arthur sighed. I know. I know, mate.
Theyre both staring moodily into the distance when he slinks off to the kitchen to try and get a
grip of his stupid emotions. Poor Gwen. Also, hes suddenly remembering the way Arthur had
handled himself on the street with that idiot not so long ago. He swallows hard and tries not to
picture Arthur in a dress uniform correct and upright and brave and strong. Oh hell.
He makes a cup of tea, somehow the drinking part of his night seemed to be over, and hesitates
before heading back into the front room. He can tell from the hallway that the immediate tension
has passed.
In some parallel universe, Arthur is saying, eyes on the ceiling, Gwen and I are happily
married, Im sure of it. Raising our three kids. And you, my friend, are circling on the edges,
wailing and gnashing your teeth about the one that got away. Theres an open bottle of red wine
in his hand, and a surprising amount has vanished while Merlin made tea.
Gnash, my arse, Lance says, waving a glass of whiskey. Id hang around like a bad smell and
steal her from you the first time you fucked up.
You would, wouldnt you.
Merlin walks in on this drunken conversation, eyebrows raised. Are you two actually arguing
over which one of you would win Gwens heart in an alternate universe?
Yes, they replied in unison, and he shrugs.
All right. He sinks onto the floor and leans back against the sofa, close to Arthurs feet. Would
it end the argument if I pointed out that the alternate universe theory means there would at the very
least be one universe where Gwen is with each of you, so you both win?
Yes but the point, Arthur maintains, hand waving, the point is, in my alternate universh, does
he respect our marital bond or not?
Merlin rolls his eyes. I think its far more interesting to figure out if theres an alternate universe
where the two of you get married, and Gwen wins X-Factor.
Theres silence and he glances around nervously. What he sees is Arthur and Lance, staring at
each other, narrow-eyed.
Then, I call top, Lance says, and Arthur immediately bolts upright and cries, Bullshit youre
topping me.
Merlin snickers and sips his tea.
Lance ends the argument by staggering off to the bathroom, and Merlin and Arthur lapse into
companionable silence. He shifts a little further along the couch until hes halfway down and has a
half-chance of glimpsing Arthurs face. Sadly, this kind of maneuver is automatic now. The next
time Arthur puts the wine bottle back on the floor it wobbles a little and Merlin reaches out to
steady it, his fingers trailing over the wide leather cuff of Arthurs watch. The jolt he gets is like a
punch in the face and he straightens, gasping aloud.
Merlin? Are you all right? Arthur is struggling to push himself up onto his elbows. Merlin?
He is staring at Arthur, mouth agape, fingers still burning or at least, thats the sense hes left
with. I. Um. He blinks a few times, hears Lances footsteps in the hall and swallows hard.
Yeah. Im fine. I uh, scratched my hand. Thats all.
Arthur blinks at him a few times, then seems to accept the idiotic explanation. He tips his head
back and says as Lance walks back into the room, Merlin hurt himself.
Jesus, Lance retorts, I was only gone three seconds. You have got to be the biggest klutz Ive
ever seen, Emrys.
Yes, Merlin says slowly, staring down at the floor. I suppose I must be. He cant lose the
image of that face that had been entwined with Arthurs pain. Cold, hard and cruel.


Chapter 8
Chapter Summary
Merlin lets out a slow breath and resolves never to drink again.
All right, he admits immediately, he is of course going to drink again. But not when
hes feeling lonely and particularly self-conscious about his ears, anyway.

Jeremys nice enough. Last night had been nice. But now.
Now its daylight. In Arthurs kitchen. And Jeremy is just all wrong. Merlin lets out a slow
breath and resolves never to drink again.
All right, he admits immediately, he is of course going to drink again. But not when hes feeling
lonely and particularly self-conscious about his ears, anyway. And perhaps, also, the teensiest bit
proving to himself how hes completely gotten past how reckless hed been right here in this
kitchen, not so long ago. Forgotten it just as swiftly and easily as Arthur seemed to.
He bites his lip. At least its Saturday and Arthurs away for the weekend so this is, it doesnt have
to be
Whatever. Merlins not at all prepared to finish that thought.
He smiles, half-hearted at Jeremy, and wishes he had never thought of offering a cup of tea.
I had fun last night. Jeremys hands are wrapped around the mug, eyes hopeful over the rim.
Um. Yeah. Me too. Merlin looks down at the floor, remembers leaning over Arthurs shoulder
to flick through catalogues of stone and tile and under-floor heating systems. Hed had as much
fun doing that as hed had getting a blow-job from this stranger last night.
I am so, very so very very fucked.
Maybe we could do it again sometime?
Uh. He blinks and looks up, meeting sincere brown eyes. Oh. Um.
Jeremy looks away. Clears his throat. Okay. Or not. He puts his mug down on the counter and
straightens.
Merlin puts his tea down, too. Jeremy he begins, guilty. I think that, um-
Its all right, he says, and he smiles suddenly. The earth didnt exactly move, did it?
He grimaces. Well. No. He takes a deep breath lets it out again, shifts so that he is leaning
against the cabinets beside Jeremy, arms brushing. This isnt going to be colossally awkward and
hes suddenly extremely grateful to the guy.
Jeremy shrugs. But, it was nice to be with someone and you know, youre good to be with. Not a
tosser. He leans in and elbows Merlin gently, reaches out to tuck a lock of hair behind Merlins
ear.
Merlin laughs at that, then glances down at the floor, shamefaced that hes going to get out of this
so easy.
Which is when the back door opens.
He gets one clear glimpse of Arthurs face as he takes in the scene. White to the lips, body
hunching as if hed been punched.
Oh. Fuck. Oh, no.
Lance and Gwen are behind him, faces equally shocked and dismayed, while beside him Jeremy
is straightening and Merlin cannot look at him, cannot look anywhere but at Arthur, who has
turned his head away, eyes angled down at the key still entrenched in the lock.
Merlin is breathing rapidly, and at some point in the past two seconds he has stepped forward,
away from Jeremy, one hand reaching automatically for Arthur.
Sorry, Gwen manages, voice far too high and breathy, weve startled you. She gives Lance a
none-too-subtle poke in the ribs and he moves forward, into the kitchen, past Arthur who is still
holding tight to the door.
I- Merlin manages, We, uh. Fuck oh fuck oh fuck. Arthur.
I was just going, Jeremy says gracefully, flicking a glance at each face in turn as he steps
forward.
Merlin blinks, finally catches the blank look on Lances face as he crosses into Merlins line of
vision and suddenly he has no problem believing that Lance kills people for a living. Arthur still
wont look at him, Gwen is biting her lip and watching everyone with worried eyes.
Ill see you out, he says faintly. The sooner Jeremy is gone the better. Its all he can think. And
after that-
He follows Jeremy through the house to the front door.
I didnt take you for a cheat, Jeremy says finally, as Merlin reaches for the door, and something
just explodes in his head.
Im not, he says, voice breaking. Because if even Jeremy , a stranger, can see this, then hes not
imagining it. Were not together. He looks up beseechingly, which is mad because its not
Jeremys forgiveness he wants. And - what the?
Forgiveness?
Weve never been together, he says finally, He doesnt even- want me.
He stops, finally, because he just cant get any more confused. And yet. He does feel guilty.
Sweetheart, Jeremy says, thats really not how it looks.
Merlin swallows helplessly.
Goodbye, Merlin. And thank God, he doesnt say thanks or good luck. Merlin just nods and
Goodbye, Merlin. And thank God, he doesnt say thanks or good luck. Merlin just nods and
watches him walk down the front path.
When he sets foot in the kitchen twenty seconds later, Arthur has himself absolutely under
command. Hes still pale, posture rigid with hurt, but he meets Merlins eyes and nods a greeting.
We found some chairs thatll go along the other side of the kitchen table he says, as if absolutely
nothing has happened. Just came home to get the car.
Gwen has already grabbed Lances arm and hauled him into the front room. Merlin barely notices.
Arthur, he begins, wretched. Can we please talk about this?
Arthur snags his measuring tape from the top of the fridge and turns. About what? he asks, and
his eyes are impossibly bright, impossibly blue.
Arthur, please, Merlin whispers. Please.
Theres nothing to talk about, Merlin, he says. His voice is extremely soft, a touch of silk and
Merlin flinches.
I didnt know, he says, and to be honest, he still doesnt know. Doesnt understand what just
happened here. Because Arthur had looked like he looked like Merlin had stabbed him. And
now here he is, smiling meaninglessly, about to set off on another homeowners buying spree like
any other Sunday. What would why would he bother with the pretence? Surely he can tell by
now that if he just asked, Merlin absolutely would- Why cant he be honest? What on earth is the
point?
Gwen, Lance, you ready? he calls, and they appear a few moments later, reluctant.
Actually, I might stay here, Gwen says, after a brief look at Merlin. You boys go and pick
them up. Lance glances between them, face betraying absolutely nothing, but whatever Gwen
said to the guy, Merlin feels slightly less like hes about to get something sharp shoved into the
back of his skull.
Fine, Arthur says, and heads straight for the car, keys dangling from his index finger.
The door closes behind them and Merlin just stands there, his whole body one simple concept that
translates into Whatthefuck?
It doesnt take long for anger to kick in. What the fuck, Gwen?
Merlin.
I mean, what am I supposed to he doesnt say or do anything, never gives the slightest sign that
hes interested in me at all. Which I totally get, I mean, he gestures expansively at himself, why
would he?
Merlin-
And then he looks at me like Im some kind of-
He got a shock.
And I didnt? Jesus. Am I supposed to apologize for cheating on a non-existent boyfriend, who
not two minutes later is acting like nothing happened, like I barely even fucking exist? Hes
shouting by the end, but happily Gwen is not one to be cowed by that. She steps forward and
grabs Merlins wrist.
Its all right, she says, calm down.
Its not all right, Gwen, he retorts. Its not all right at all. I dont want to be bloody calm.
I know, Merlin, she soothes, and youre right, hes not being fair. But he was hurt. He is hurt.
Just like you are.
Its as though she ripped the scab off. He sinks down at the table and covers his face with his
hands. Shit, Gwen, he whispers. Oh shit. The look on his face.
She wraps her arms around him. I know.
Id never want to hurt him. Never.
I know, she says again, cheek pressed against his hair. And listen, Merlin. He knows that too.
He does. I think thats why he was trying to- to hide it, how much it hurt. He knows its not fair to
make you carry the guilt when you didnt know how he felt.
And why didnt I? he asks suddenly, pulling back. Why is he hiding, Gwen? Am I so would
it be so horrible if he actually started a relationship? Or God forbid, flirted with me once, see
where it went?
She flinches and looks away. And in that moment Merlin knows that he is the only one in this
little drama who doesnt understand the why of whats going on. Gwen knows. Morgana must
know. Lance too, he realizes, and isnt that a slap in the face. Whatever Arthurs reasons, theres
only one person being kept in the dark.
He slides out of the hug and stands up, putting distance between them. You wont tell me, he
says, and its not a question.
Merlin, she begins, pleading.
He bites hard on his lip and looks away. Then he begins to work his way through it, thinking
aloud. You wont tell me, Morgana just drops cryptic bloody hints, Lance wont say anything,
and we both know with a great deal of certainty that Arthur is never going to let me in on
whatever the hell is going on here. His voice comes out cold and bitter, and he cant even be
sorry to see the flinch. In fact, hes glad.
He gets as far as the door before he glances back. Hes got no right to make me feel like this,
none. I could go out and shag the entire Territorial Army, Gwen, and it would be none of his
business. Because thats the way he wants it. And he storms out of the kitchen wishing his rage
would keep him warm.

* * *

Its chilly and silent around the house that night, Gwen and Lance make themselves scarce like the
fucking cowards they are and Arthur is forced to hide in his room while he tries to figure out how
his life became even more of a mess. And this time theres no-one else to blame, oh no, this is all
his own great big mistake. He falls asleep sitting up in bed, surrounded by reading material that
failed to distract him at all. By the flat sound of the house Merlin has already left for work, and so
he sighs and shuffles further down the bed, absolutely wallowing for once in his life.
His phone rings and he sighs but answers anyway. Hello.
Arthur Fitzroy?
Speaking, he says, voice clipped. He stares blankly out his bedroom window, too busy hating
himself to pay any attention to the voice at the other end of the line. Merlins face keeps appearing
before his eyes. A soft-half smile on his face, body leaning inward toward another man, toward
Jeremy, whod had an entire night with Merlin, and who could have many more, if he chose to.
Bastard.
Arthur closes his eyes, trying to swallow down his jealousy and his rage. He doesnt want to
know this side of himself. Its not a path he can afford to travel. And remembering Merlin, in that
same kitchen, on his knees, is not-
This is Detective Inspector Greg Travers.
And Arthur blinks. His focus switches in a heartbeat, fear skittering over his skin in a Pavlovian
response he cant begin to help. He sits up slowly. Yes.
Oh fuck. The thud of his heart is slow and heavy. What now - what?
Id like to speak to you, if I may, about your case. Theres a low cloud of sound from the DIs
end of the call, but Arthur ignores it.
His mouth is too dry for him to actually form words for a moment, and then he swallows hard. Is
there new information?
Not as such, no.
I dont recall your name, Im afraid. He drags in a slow breath, trying to actually think.
Im new to the case, you could say. Ive just transferred to this section and Im looking over cold
cases. Im not- theres hesitation, and then he says delicately, entirely happy with the way your
case was handled.
That makes two of us, Arthur thinks. But all he says is, I see. He breathes in slowly, trying not
to get his hopes up that this time theres a cop that will listen to him, and consider the idea that a
crime involving a gay man might possibly be unrelated to the gay part of the equation.
Could we meet?
I yes, he finally says. What else can he possibly say? Certainly. I can come down-
No. Hes interrupted very firmly. Id rather meet you at a location outside of the station, if you
dont mind. Ill explain my reasons when we meet.
All right. His doubt is clear in his voice, but he cant see any danger in it. Hes steeling himself
to revisit a crime scene when-
Grand, he says. Now. Why dont you pick a pub, and Ill meet you there for a quiet pint this
evening?
Arthur blinks at the phone for a moment, wondering if perhaps hes already spent too long at a
pub like several days and is imagining the entire call. Then he raises the phone slowly back to
his ear and says, Um. The Green Man?
Near Crystal Park? Which means the DI knows where Arthur is currently living.
Yes.
Wonderful. Ill be there tonight from six.
O-kay then, Arthur says, and hangs up, still frowning.
Well. At least therell be some part of today when hell surely be distracted from Merlin.


Hes leaning on the bar, staring down at the pint he hasnt yet touched, and wondering just how
much more fucked up his life can get. What the hell is he going to do? He cant have Merlin. He
knows this. And yet how can he send him away?
Even the thought of it sends pain lancing through his chest. He cant imagine the house without
him anymore.
Another body fills the gap to his right, and he notices automatically, the kind of instincts an elite
soldier carries for life, whether hes active or not. And he is not thinking bitter thoughts about that,
either, the life he had to leave behind. The man to his right is stocky, average height, and slightly
nervous. On the heels of that hes not surprised when the other man speaks.
Arthur Fitzroy?
Arthur turns his head and meets tired grey eyes. Yes, he says, and offers a hand.
Greg Travers.
Detective Inspector, he says, as they shake. Hes not about to call the bloke by his first name,
for Gods sake.
I appreciate you agreeing to meet me like this, I know it must seem odd.
It didnt seem odd. It was odd. Skirting towards misconduct area, really. Arthur has already
calculated the size of the bribe the DI is likely chasing. Not that hed pay it.
Its nothing untoward, the DI says, as if reading Arthurs mind. I can assure you, my interest in
your case is real, and Im pursuing it through the usual channels.
Arthur lets one raised eyebrow ask the question.
The reason I asked to meet you like this, Travers says, squinting up toward the football match
on the big screen, is that Im fairly confident that you are under some kind of surveillance,
Arthur. And Im extremely keen not to tip off any interested parties that the case is being
reviewed.
Theres a sensation equivalent to ice water being poured down his spine and Arthur shifts,
glancing away before he reaches for his pint and takes a deep drink. Its not like he hasnt had his
own suspicions on this topic. But its different, especially to hear it from this source. He hasnt had
a whole lot of heart-to-hearts with the police over this stuff, and in truth, hes mostly spent his time
lying awake at night calling himself paranoid and fucked up with this insistent feeling of being
watched.
Surveillance?
I think so. Yes.
As in, Im being followed by men in trench coats? Or my phone is bugged?
I dont think its bugged, no, Travers says thoughtfully. Thats harder for a layman to do than
youd think. My guess is more that your billing information is being examined, or perhaps even
simpler, that someone is occasionally able to access your phone itself and take a look at your call
log. Its why I placed my call to you from a pay phone. He takes a quick sip. I think the tailing
is also a possibility, though Id guess its infrequent at best.
Theres a long pause as Arthur stares straight ahead. He can see a fragment of DI Travers face in
the mirrored back of the bar, between the bottles of whisky. Youre serious.
Im deadly serious, Arthur, he says, and the choice of words was no accident.
He takes a few slow, steady breaths, then he says, What do you need me to do?

* * *

Perhaps its the presence of the police in his life, yet again, that makes him face up to things.
Perhaps its just the general acknowledgement that hes being a twat. Either way he climbs the
stairs to Merlins room when he gets home from the pub and knocks on the door.
It opens quickly enough, though Merlins carefully blank face is more painful than a kidney
punch.
Could I have a word?
His eyes flicker, then Merlin shrugs and opens his door wider. His room is in near darkness, lit
only by a lava lamp. Instead of coming in, Arthur shifts around in the hallway until he decides to
just lean on the door frame, then clears his throat.
I wanted to um, clear the air. Tell you that Im sorry if I if I made you uncomfortable,
yesterday.
Merlin stares at him, then sinks down onto the bed. Uncomfortable, he echoes.
If I made you feel as though youd done something wrong.
I havent done anything wrong, Arthur, he bites out, and Arthur just nods.
I know. Im sorry. Its all he can offer. He runs a weary hand over his head, backwards and
forwards. Looking into your case surveillance
Youre sorry.
If Ive made you feel if you want to move out, Ill understand.
You want me to move out.
No, he says swiftly, too fast to catch himself. He shouldnt have said that, he should be doing
everything he can to push Merlin out that door. But some lies are just too big for him to tell.
He says more slowly, I dont want you to move out, but Ill understand if Im making it too
difficult for you to live here. I know Im not an easy person to be around and Merlin, he hesitates,
then sighs and says, Im not going to get any easier.
Your secrets.
He just nods. Theres a long silence and then he forces himself to say, I cant tell you about it,
Merlin. Im sorry, and Ill understand if thats-
Stop saying you fucking understand, Arthur.
He just nods at that, too. Fair enough.
Theres another long silence, then Arthur says roughly, Im uh. Tired. Im going to bed.
Merlin just nods. The last image Arthur has of him is a pale face, resting on clasped hands, his
skin milky in the darkness as he stares at the floor.


He meets the DI at the same pub a few nights later.
You really need to call me Greg, is the opening remark.
Arthur raises an eyebrow.
Were trying to do this stuff clandestine, he clarifies, its going to completely fall over if
someone hears you calling me by my rank.
Right. Arthur nods. Sure. Greg.
His lips twitch. That had sounded about as natural as the first time Arthur had said Detective
Inspector. Excellent, is all he says. Now. I believe I have a plan.
Chapter 9
Chapter Summary
Arthurs mouth tightens. He has that look about him of someone about to bungy jump
off a bridge, or go down on one knee with a ring in his hand.

Merlin is staggering through his life in a haze ever since the if you want to move out, Ill
understand conversation. He doesnt know what to do.
Two mornings after that conversation he descends the stairs slowly, Dragon winding between his
feet and bringing him very little comfort. He trails his hands along the railing, up, over and around,
dragging his feet as he passes the master bedroom. Arthur was up early, off to somewhere
probably marked Parish of Avoiding Merlin on the map and he sighs. He doesnt want to leave.
He doesnt want to leave. But being here like this is its crap. When he knows how good it can
be how good it could be, if Arthur would get the giant stick out of his-
His vision washes gold as his fingers trace over something small and familiar. He freezes and the
cat bumps against his legs before continuing on his way. Merlin stays where he is, feeling that
familiar emotion, tracing the familiar shape beneath the railing.
Its its his dragon. He drops to his knees, peering up at the underside of the railing. Arthur had
slaved over it, doing something mystifying with complicated power tools in the kitchen, of all
places, trying to match the scrolls and patterns to the remaining railing on the other floors. Merlin
had never heard such inventive cursing.
He runs his fingers over it again and sees the flare of gold, the same feeling, the same fucking
feeling as he gets at Shannen House, determination and protectiveness and love.
He lets out a startled half-laugh. Its Arthur, he says aloud. Arthur.
Of course it is, he thinks a moment later. Who else what other half-decent person thinks so little
of himself? That all he has to offer is the things he can do, hidden behind a calm faade of keep-
your-distance. Arthur renovated Shannen House and donated it. The prat.
Merlin sinks down on the stairs. God fucking damn it. As if he needed a reason to love the tosser
more. Dragon winds his way back up the stairs and does some self-scratching under Merlins limp
hands. I cant leave, mate. I cant leave him.
He sits there for a long time. Hell figure it out. He will. He has brains and determination and his
stupid power and he will fucking find a way to make this work. Im not leaving, he says to
Dragon, finally scratching with a will. Im not ever leaving him. Were in this together, even if he
doesnt know it yet.
Itd be nice if that little discovery made him feel any better but hes under no delusions about
Arthurs own stubborn nature and the dedication hes putting into keeping Merlin locked out. This
isnt going to get easy anytime soon.
On his way home from work that night he detours to the Thai restaurant he and Arthur had gone
to with Morgana and orders the same meal, just well, to really wallow in it, if hes honest. Hes
leaving with his food when he glances up, across the street and sees Arthur push through the door
of the local pub. Theres something about his face, set and determined, that has the hairs on the
back of Merlins neck standing up, and he hesitates for a long moment before he sighs and turns
toward the pub. Evening traffic is thick and its a good minute before theres enough of a break for
him to cross the street.
Who are you stalking now, Emrys? He can hear Will in his head, clear as day as he shoves the
doors open and glances around.
Arthurs at a corner table with a much older bloke, the conversation is intense and serious, and the
one beer on the table is untouched. Arthurs gaze is focused on the table, hes thinking furiously,
the kind of look Merlin sees when hes contemplating large, complex decisions like restructuring
the flow of rooms in the house, or where to guess next after hes scored a hit in Battleship.
The conversation is rapid, flows back and forth and reminds Merlin oddly of the last-minute
consultations he and Gaius share just before they enter an auction. Tactics and reserve prices.
He blinks, confused, and fades back to the other side of the pub so he can think, but by the time
hes found a seat with a view the conversation appears to be over. The older man sits back and
finally picks up his beer, takes a deep drink and carefully does not look at Arthur.
Arthur is staring down at his hands, beneath the table Merlin can see hes turning something over,
something small, but before Merlin can see what it is Arthur slides it into his coat pocket and takes
a deep breath.
He speaks, one short sentence and the older man nods deep and solemn and sure. Arthurs mouth
tightens, and then he gets up, steps away from the table with a sharp nod and doesnt look back.
Merlin leans back until hes concealed behind a portly Arsenal fan, expecting Arthur to head for
the door. He has that look about him of someone about to bungy jump off a bridge, or go down on
one knee with a ring in his hand. But instead he heads straight to the bar, slots into a spot, props
one foot on the brass bar and waits. The deep breath he takes is the only indicator this is a bit
strange.
Merlin frowns and turns his gaze to the older bloke. Hes turning his beer in circles on the table,
carefully not looking Arthurs way. He looks nice enough. Tired, a face worn down by care or
sorrow, but nothing about him that seems enough of a reason for Merlins stomach to be tied in
knots the way it is.
His eyes turn back to Arthur, on automatic, and he shakes his head even as his eyes drift over the
very appealing rear view. What am I even doing here? So Arthur had a quick chat with a stranger
in a pub. He gets up slowly and heads for the side door, glances back as he gets there and can see
Arthur clearly now, in profile. Merlin isnt Arthurs keeper. Not his mother. Certainly not his-
Every train of thought Merlin has slams to a halt. The bartender - a bloody giant of a man - has
appeared in front of Arthur. Hes young, muscular, and ridiculously good looking. And hes
looking across at the bar like Arthur is a particularly gorgeous specimen which, fair enough
thats fallen into a vat of chocolate and is requiring a volunteer willing to spend the rest of the
night just licking.
And Arthur. Arthur raises his head slowly. Meets the bartenders eyes in a long, hot look. And
then he smiles.
Merlin stumbles out of the pub, gasping.
It takes him a full minute to still the shaking in his legs. When he can leverage himself off the wall
of the pub, he heads back the way he came. He cant go home right now. That look had held
heat. He cant what if they he doesnt want-
He cant.


Merlin. Is something did something happen? Gwens phrasing it delicately, probably because
she has no clues to go on other than Merlin appearing at her front door, white-faced, a bag of cold
Thai food bumping against his leg.
Hes staring down at the tea, stirring way more than is needed. He cant lose the image of Arthur
staring across the bar in unmistakable invitation. The kind of look that has never been sent
Merlins way. God, why would it?
I love him, Gwen, he says out of nowhere.
Theres silence. He can tell shes gone very still, in the middle of putting the milk back in the
fridge. Then she says, gently, I know.
Hes the best person Ive ever met.
Yes.
And hes hurting me- so much. But that part he doesnt say. Doesnt have to. He drags in a deep
breath and picks up the tea, takes it to the tiny table hed leaned against the night he met Arthur
and they drink in silence.
Is he is he ever going to let me in? he finally asks, helplessly, forehead resting on one hand.
The bartenders face swims through his mind. Young and beautiful, openly admiring Arthur.
Because right now, I just. I have no hope.
Oh Merlin, she says, but there she stops.
So. Thats a no, then.
He sits there for a long time, Gwens hand resting on top of his, and the tea goes cold because he
cant choke it down, theres no room left between the anger and the hurt lodged in his throat. Not
just at Arthur, but at Gwen, too. And the same question keeps running through his head on a loop.
Why did he look at me like that with Jeremy?
I should probably go, he says finally, and her hand tightens on his.
He just wants to keep you safe, Merlin, she whispers, and he raises his head to give her an
incredulous look. Her eyes are shimmering with tears but he cant let that affect him, not when
shes keeping Arthurs secrets, too.
How would you feel, Gwen? He looks at me like Im a cheat one minute, and the next hes- He
chokes on the words, cant tell her what hes just seen. His voice comes out rough. If it was
Lance, and he wouldnt touch you, wouldnt talk to you, and every fucking person around you
knew why but no-one would tell you?
She bites her lip and looks away. Im not with Lance, she chokes out, and wow is that the
wrong thing to say because Merlin completely loses his temper at that and at least this situation is
one he can damn well fix.
Thats right, youre not. He slaps a hand down on the table, and why the fuck is that, exactly?
She sucks in a startled breath.
Look, Gwen, I cant pretend to even remotely understand how fucking terrifying it must be to
know that hes out there facing bullets and explosives every day. But heres the pearl of wisdom
Ive gathered in the past few months if you love them, it doesnt even matter if youre with them
or not. Can you honestly tell me if that call came through today, if you got the worst news you can
imagine, that you wouldnt be absolutely fucking destroyed?
Shes pale, face turned away. Dont. Merlin, dont.
You already love him, Gwen, he says, and he cant be gentle. It hits too close to the bone.
Youre already in it, even if you never saw him again in your life. So why the hell would you
deny yourself the happy part? At least, he gasps, the pain solid and real in his chest, Gwen, at
least you know he wants you.
He closes his eyes, mouth twisting. If the pain is yours, then get the bloody joy while you can.
Hold his hand and listen to his crap jokes and screw his brains out and-
Merlin.
Its only then that he realizes hes crying.
Her hands cover his, gripping tight.
I would. And he looks up, miserable. Gwen, if he gave me the slightest chance, if hed let me
in at all Id clutch on so hard he wouldnt know what hit him.
Oh, Merlin, love, she whispers.
He takes a shuddering breath, Living there, its torture, sure, because I cant be with him, but if
he disappeared from the face of the earth right now at least Id know how he looks in the morning
and whether he snores at night and the way he eats all the crunchy chips first and the deeply
crooked fantasies he has about Kevin McCloud-
Merlin-
At least that Ill never lose. I know him. I love him. Those parts of him are mine and no-one can
take them. Not even Arthur can take that from me.

* * *

Merlin is sorting through his wardrobe aimlessly when he hears the familiar sounds. He freezes,
straining to track Arthurs progress as he unlocks the front door, retrieves his keys and closes it
quietly behind him. The soft clatter of the keys as he places them in the pottery bowl by the door,
and then silence.
His hands tighten on the sleeve of his suede jacket. He hadnt realized until lunchtime that the
trip mentioned in Arthurs note was almost certainly another of his mysterious Torturous
Thursdays. It seemed to be a pattern. Once a month, probably, though Merlin cant be sure if it
was quite that regular. Between his visits home, and seeing Will, and the buying trip hed taken up
to Scotland, hed been away for a few of the possible dates.
It takes a while, but finally Arthurs feet can be heard on the stairs heavy and slow, weighed
down. He must be able to see the light in Merlins room by now, the half-open door. But he wont
call a greeting, wont pop his head in the door. Not today.
Well. Not at all, lately.
Theyve been communicating via notes on the kitchen table and stilted hellos for the past two
weeks. Its worse because Lance has been gone, visiting family up north. But thered been no
sign of the bartender around the house, no mysterious absences overnight, either.
He swallows and tries not to think about that anymore. Hes been obsessing about the bartender
ever since that night. Arthurs free during the day, probably the bartender is too. They could be-
And yet. Arthur doesnt look like hes involved. Hes still pale and unhappy. Tense. Sliding
guilty looks at Merlin on the very few occasions theyve been in the same room at the same time.
And then theres tonight.
Merlin closes the wardrobe door silently and turns, catching sight of himself in the mirror. He
doesnt move as Arthur enters the bathroom, closes the door, theres the sound of water running,
silence, more water in the pipes, the door opens again and he stumbles into his bedroom. And
Merlin just stares at himself in the mirror.
Are you going to do this? Again? He asks himself silently. Even after Jeremy? And the
bartender?
The first time had been a mad impulse. Hed just done it. Right there in the kitchen, on his knees
on their new stone floor. And somehow it hadnt shattered this friendship. But it could have.
The Jeremy mess the bartender what was he doing?
If he went to Arthur now if he made a deliberate choice that was different. What was he even
doing? Friends with benefits? Amateur sexual therapy? The worlds most pathetic crush?
But the silence drifts up the stairs and Merlin stares into his own eyes in the mirror. He cant
ignore it. Arthurs in pain and Merlin just - he just cant ignore it.
At the bottom of the stairs he pauses in the doorway. Arthur is sitting on the corner of his bed,
staring blankly at the window. Hes turned on a lamp in the corner of the room just enough light
gleaming on the glass to show a ghostly Merlin hovering to one side of a pale, still Arthur.
Merlin takes a deep breath and crosses the room to sink down on the bed behind Arthur. No-one
moves for a long time, Merlin is honestly still trying to figure out just how crazy he is, if hes
really going to do this again. In the end, he scoots forward on the bed and simply wraps an arm
around Arthur, curving around his shoulders. His forearm rests across Arthurs chest, their cheeks
brushing together, chest and back pressing close.
He still hasnt made a decision, this is just instinct. He wouldnt leave anyone to suffer on their
own this way if he could help it, but never, never could he abandon Arthur. No matter what the
cost.
Arthur breathes. In the window reflection, his eyes close briefly, nothing else moving, and Merlin
simply aches to see all that control, like hes not supposed to have feelings, or something equally
stupid. And thats really what decides him.
He shifts around on the bed, draws his legs up until hes sitting on his heels, tucked up flush
against Arthurs back, legs spread either side, bracketing. It wont hide the erection thats starting
to build but honestly? Theyre a bit too far gone for that kind of sophistry and he wont pretend he
doesnt love the way Arthurs heat seeps in through his thin pajamas.
He keeps his left hand flattened on Arthurs chest and raises his eyes to the reflection in the
window, looking at their faces side by side. All the colour is drained but they stare at one another,
into one another, as Merlin slides forward just enough to be able to reach around Arthurs body
with his right hand.
The button fly pops open one silver circle at a time.
Arthur breathes, one quick inhale, belly pulling back under Merlins hand, but he doesnt move,
doesnt shift away at all and about twenty seconds later he is released from both jeans and
underwear, rock-hard and bloody gorgeous.
He swallows audibly.
Relax, Merlin murmurs. Just let me.
He raises his hand to Arthurs mouth and turns his head to watch. Arthur hesitates, breath coming
quickly. Then he moistens his lips, clenches his hands into fists and licks a long stripe down the
centre of Merlins palm, and there he lingers, tongue chasing across the skin.
Yeah, he whispers. Just like that. And then he curls his fingers around Arthurs length, hot
and rigid and Arthur jerks against him, tiny quick breaths Merlin hadnt expected to hear. His face
reveals almost nothing, even now, and Merlin turns his eyes away for a moment, presses his cheek
against Arthurs instead.
Merlin moves his hand slowly. Look at you, he says into the silence, because he is. Is watching
Arthurs skin slowly flush with arousal, lips part just enough to hint at the wet warmth inside. Its
impossible to tell in the reflection, but Merlin wants to believe his pupils are blown wide with the
burning pleasure being brought to him now.
Arthurs head tips back, he wont watch even though it clearly gets him hot, instead he rolls his
gaze to one side and focuses on Merlins face, just as intent as ever.
Youre so beautiful, Merlin continues, eyes on their reflection, his free hand sliding down, so
perfect.
Theres a small, discontented noise of disagreement at that one, and he licks a quick strip behind
an ear in retaliation. Beautiful, I said, he repeats sternly, and Arthurs hips twitch against him,
trying to shift against the flat hand Merlin has positioned over his belly, holding him firmly in
place.
No, Merlin says, calm. He rolls his forehead against Arthurs temple so the words will drop
right into Arthurs ear. Stay right there, he whispers. He wants to kiss him, so badly, but thats
Merlins wants and needs, not Arthurs. He wont kiss Arthur while he does whatever this is.
Arthur doesnt want to date Merlin, this isnt romance.
Its a line of some kind, and apparently theres one left that he wont cross.
He shifts against Arthur, a tiny movement but his erection sends out fireworks, yes please, more of
that, and Merlins breath stutters for a moment before he regains focus, twists his hand around the
hot length and feels the sharp surge in Arthurs hips.
He takes his time. Its dark and silent, and outside its started to rain. He watches the streaks form
on the window, obscuring their reflections even more, and it seems to give him permission to talk,
somehow.
I love the rain, he murmurs, hears the hitch in Arthurs breathing at the painstakingly slow pace
Merlin is setting. He wants it to last. The sound of it, the smell. And here? Now? Its like a
curtain between us and the rest of the world.
Arthurs reflection licks his lips and Merlin swipes his thumb through the moisture gathering in his
slit. Were here, where no-one can touch us, he whispers, we can see out, but no-one can see
in. And we can do this all night. I can make you last all night, Arthur.
He gets an involuntary shudder at that. A small, needy noise.
Would you like that? he breathes it into Arthurs ear. Its counterintuitive, of course, because
clearly the more he talks about it the hotter Arthur gets, but hes caught in his own trap - in the
idea that his voice is part of what is getting Arthur so hot.
Merlin, he says, its low and husky and wrecked and he nips at Arthurs ear just once, hears the
gasp and slows his hand almost completely, not ready to give this up just yet.
I think you would. He lets his tongue wander down Arthurs neck, aware that his own heart is
hammering and hes crossing a few lines here, this is veering toward intimacy, not like last time
when thered been almost no talking at all.
I think youd like to lose a whole night that way, hours and hours of soaking up just the right
kind of touch. Fast and rough, and then slow enough to drive you insane. Hot and wet, and then
slow again
Arthurs belly is shifting against Merlins hand, breathing choppy and hes trying for control, for
leverage, for something but Merlin wont give it and finally, finally the need is starting to show on
his face, control slipping as he reaches back with one hand, opening the clenched fist to grip
Merlins thigh, hard, pulling their bodies even closer together.
Sometimes itd be all about your dick and sometimes I wouldnt touch it at all, for hours, he
keeps going, breath and tongue brushing against Arthurs ear, and hes a little stunned at hearing
the words coming out of his mouth, not until you begged me.
Merlin, he says again, heaves in a huge breath of air and Merlin speeds up his hand suddenly,
jacking him fast and ruthless and Arthurs head falls back to rest on his shoulder, gasping and
pushing his hips and then making a pissed off noise as Merlins hand slows again, but he takes the
chance to close his mouth over that straining throat, a hot wet suck that draws an audible moan
from Arthur.
And then when you begged me would you beg, Arthur? he lets his breath flow over the wet
skin, Would you?
Oh God, Arthur moans. His other hand comes up to cup the back of Merlins neck, locking
them together. Hes a shambles, Merlin can see when he lifts his head. Lips bitten red, licked-
shiny, open and gasping, face flushed and slack with pleasure, and Merlins hand never stops
moving.
I think you would. He swallows, trying not to lose it when he glances up at their reflection
again. Arthur has made no move to change anything about this, to stop Merlin, to guide him or
speed it up and the knowledge that hes given up all that power is erotic as hell. Hes locked in
position, one hand clutching Merlins thigh and the other clasped at his nape, thighs falling open, a
straining portrait of utter surrender.
Mmmhnh, Arthur is trying to hold the sounds back, biting his lips again.
I think youd do anything, Merlin lowers his head so he can murmur into Arthurs ear one more
time. Anything if it just meant you could finally come. Not used to waiting, are you?
Hes relaxed his other hand slightly where it had held Arthurs hips still all this time, and Arthur is
thrusting into Merlins fist, slowly at first, as if hes not sure its allowed, but he begins to speed up
as Merlin says, Youd beg me to suck you.
Jesus, Arthur gasps. Yes.
But Im not going to, he says lightly, adding a twist of his wrist but keeping the rhythm smooth.
Arthur is leaking steadily now, the fluid making everything sticky and slick and wonderful. Not
tonight.
Please. It bursts out of him suddenly, Merlin, please.
And somehow everything changes in that instant. Merlin blinks, sucks in a stunned breath at
hearing those words, the desperation from Arthur.
Arthur, he says, low and hot and wanting, and he bites down on the pale column of his neck as
Arthurs thrusts get stronger, hand biting into Merlins thigh and his breath ragged from lust.
Merlin, he gasps it once, and then folds up, coming hard, God, oh, God, oh my fucking God.
He takes it all in, the broken, shaking sound of Arthurs voice, the solid warmth pressed against
him as he stays with Arthur, fingers biting bruises into his thigh and the knowledge that its him,
hes the one who broke that reserve.
It wont last, he knows that, but for now its enough.
Its far too soon but Arthur is straightening, breathing like hes run a marathon. When he lifts his
head, Merlin can see in the window that he is schooling his features into a mask again. And for
some reason thats the moment he realizes his hand is still wrapped around Arthurs cock.
He blinks, fingers loosening, and just as he starts to pull away Arthur lowers his right hand from
where it had been clutching at Merlins nape and wraps his fingers around Merlins wrist, grip
firm and somehow commanding.
They both freeze for a second, then Arthur shifts sideways, completely ignoring his own softening
cock, still falling out of his jeans. Merlins pulse is thundering under those fingers, he knows
Arthur can feel it, and he watches him desperately, with no idea of whats coming next.
Arthur shifts sideways on the bed. Theyre close, near enough to feel the others breath on their
lips, and Merlin swallows. Something has shifted in the past few seconds, something wild in
Arthurs clear blue eyes.
The hand wrapped around his wrist flexes, and then Arthur slowly lifts his arm, bringing Merlins
hand between them, still wet with Arthurs come. Arthur presses forward.
Merlin sidles backwards on his knees, unsure if thats what hes meant to do, then follows the
silent urging of Arthurs hand between them, maneuvering Merlin, and a second later he falls
backwards onto the bed, silent, breathing hard. His hand is still clasped in Arthurs firm, heated
grip.
Arthur reaches for Merlin with his other hand. Fingers brush over his hipbone and he bites his lip,
achingly hard, desperately aroused. Neither of them speaks, all is silent and dark except for the
steady sound of the rain and their mingled harsh breathing.
Arthurs free hand tugs Merlins pajamas down, over his hips and Merlin lifts up, automatically
helping anything that might bring his swollen erection some relief. Slowly, so slowly, Arthurs
head turns and he stares down at Merlin, gaze dragging from his cock up to his face. He rears up,
eyes locking on Merlins, and then he slides one leg over, straddling Merlins thighs, still holding
Merlins come-soaked hand.
Merlin swallows with an audible click, and Arthurs eyes return to his erection. Oh God. The look
is as good as a touch. Then he raises his eyes back to Merlins as he draws their hands inexorably
toward it. Merlins panting now, but somehow unsurprised when Arthur guides Merlins hand
onto his own cock. Those fingers finally loosen and he leans back, sitting on his heels, ready to
watch.
Merlin licks his lips. Arthurs pupils flare.
His hand is moving automatically, this is going to take no time at all because hes already on fire,
burning from the madness of watching Arthur shake to pieces. Every slick stroke of his hand
reminds him of what just happened, whats coating his fingers and now Arthur is looming over
Merlin, watching it all, taking in everything, the way Merlin likes a twist at the head and the
steady build from slow to fast and rough, biting down on his bottom lip when the burn starts, and
he gasps as Arthur drops down suddenly.
His hands land on either side of Merlins head, body held only inches away from Merlins, he can
sense Arthurs warmth through his clothes and he digs a heel into the bed, fighting the instinct to
arch up and grind into the solid heat above. Ohh, he gasps, cant stay silent any longer and he
tips his head back, closes his eyes for a second because its too much- Arthurs body a cage above
his-
He shoves a hand into his hair, yanks hard and opens his eyes, Arthurs face so close, so beautiful
and he chokes out, Arthur, just once before his body arches in ecstasy and hes coming harder
than he ever has in his life.


The room is silent in the aftermath.
Oh fuck, Merlin has time to think tiredly. What did I just do?
Hed definitely screwed things up this time. No simple physical release, instead hed gone tripping
down fantasy lane like a bloody idiot. Exposed his own sweaty, dark-of-night dreams and,
possibly, Arthurs too. Oh crap, talk about complicated.
Arthur is lying silently beside him, not close enough to touch. Both of them are breathing like
bloody racehorses.
Merlin jackknifes to a sitting position. Arthur doesnt move.
He turns his head, just slightly, stares down at Arthurs knees, and searches blindly for words.
When he draws a blank he sighs, shakes his head and gets to his feet, dragging his pajamas up
over his hips. With no idea of what comes next, he walks out the door without a backward glance.


Chapter 10
Chapter Summary
This is how Arthur sounds when hes talking to someone he fancies. Not the amused,
easy tone hes always had for Merlin.

The next morning is well, its beyond awkward. Especially when Arthurs phone rings as Merlin
is making tea in the kitchen. He stares at the phone for a long moment, and his body goes
extremely still. When he raises it to his ear Merlin catches a glimpse of Arthurs face before he
turns away and its a half-second of agony that has him stepping forward on automatic.
Hello.
Merlin swallows and drops his hand. Still, he stares at Arthurs back for a long moment, heart
aching.
Yeah. Hi. Its good to hear from you, Perceval. I, uh, wasnt sure youd call.
He blinks into the short pause. Arthurs tone is warm and intimate. Flirtatious. And Merlins body
goes cold all over because he just knows. Its the bartender.
No, Im glad you did. Very glad.
Merlin spins on his heel and stares blindly down at his tea. He wants very badly to vomit. Why did
I do it? Oh, fuck, why?
Id like that, he says after another pause, and he just knows Arthurs glancing his way,
hesitating. No, tonights fine. Its tonights great, he says, swallowing hard.
Nervous, Merlin thinks miserably. This is how Arthur sounds when hes talking to someone he
fancies. Not the amused, easy tone hes always had for Merlin.
That sounds great, he pauses, then adds, Why dont we meet there and see what we feel like?
What we feel like, Merlin echoes. Like if you feel like coming back to mine or if we
impulsively feel like hopping a flight to Paris for a dirty weekend. The kind of things you do when
youre young and infatuated with each other. Not the opportunistic fumblings that happen in a
quiet space when youre so lonely you could choke on it.
He doesnt hear the rest of the conversation, just stands there stupidly, head bent over his tea while
the milk goes warm in its carton.
Arthur hesitates for a long moment after he hangs up, Merlin can almost feel the weight of the
gaze across his back. He doesnt move or speak, and finally Arthur just sighs softly and leaves.
Merlin waits until he hears Arthurs bedroom door close and then he tips his tea into the sink,
grabs his keys and his coat and lets himself out.
He goes to Albion Antiques. Theres a narrow bed out the back, tucked away beside the tiny
kitchenette, Gaius has slept there once or twice while waiting for international phone calls or late
shipments. Merlin spends the weekend curled up on the bare mattress, miserable, rejecting calls
from Gwen and staring blankly at the heavy glass jars that hold Gaius many varieties of loose leaf
tea, biscuits and sugar.
Finally the phone rings again and as he goes to reject this one he sees its Will.
Merlin closes his eyes. Shit. He cant he promised. Years ago theyd struck a solemn deal.
Whenever they were geographically separated, theyd never dodge each others calls. They each
had no family other than a single parent. So. No tantrums, no hurt feelings - no exceptions.
Hey, he manages through a tight throat.
Hey. Wills subdued tone tells him that Gwen has told him something. But honestly, what
could she know? Unless. Oh fuck, of course, Arthur has told her all about his hot date and Gwen
has easily guessed the nature and extent of Merlins misery.
Theres silence. Are you all right?
He tips his head back and surveys the ceiling. Not really. No, he says, but at least he sounds
pretty calm, not raw and frozen like Kate Winslet at the end of Titanic, which is pretty much how
he feels.
Theres a sigh. Then Will says, Hes a fucking tosser, Merlin. Has to be. If he cant see whats
right in front of him-
Hes not a tosser, Will, Merlin says wearily. He knows this is Wills role, here. Hes the
sympathetic best friend, dissing the other party is like, No 2 on the list of Things To Do In a
Romantic Crisis. But Merlin isnt angry at Arthur. Not even for keeping quiet last night and letting
things happen. That was entirely on Merlin.
And he certainly cant blame Arthur for being attracted to a hot, buff bartender who can probably
talk for ten minutes without once saying um. Hes probably French, the fucker. Or Irish. Theres a
charming accent in there, somewhere, Merlin just knows it. And a slight edge of danger. Which is
bound to appeal to the soldier in Arthur. He stops that line of thought because hes starting to feel
physically sick again.
Hes just utterly out of my league. And I forgot that. This is totally self-inflicted.
Bullshit out of your league-
Honestly, he is. Im not saying it to wallow well, not only to wallow. Hes like, uber-crush
material seriously, there should be a warning. Ignore the good looks and hes still smart and
funny and sexy and loving and self-deprecating and protective and capable and nice to my Mum
and-
Merlin.
He takes a breath. Sorry.
I wish I wish I was there, Will says, and for the first time since he left he sounds genuinely
miserable.
Me too.
Merlin folds up, rests his head on his knees and hugs his legs. Then he moves the phone away
from his mouth and takes a huge, silent breath. And another. Then brings the phone back. Look.
Ill be okay. I will.
He even sounds more normal when he says it, thank Christ Will cant see his face. Hes a pretty
good liar, hes had to be, to hide his stupid power, and he can at least save Will a sleepless night or
two. Ill Ill get drunk. With Gwen, he adds hastily. Ill get roaring drunk and horribly sick
and then Ill be ready to call him an arsehole and itll help.
And youll move out.
Merlin freezes.
Merlin.
I. Um.
You cant stay there, Merlin. Not if you- You have to get out.
Ill-
Merlin, Will says, suddenly stern.
Just give me some time, he whispers, suddenly broken. Just let me- let me get used to-
Oh, mate. And now Will is the one that sounds heartbroken. Fuck.
Itll be all right, he says, still a whisper. And they both know hes lying.


He goes home late Sunday night. The house is dark, he cant even tell if Arthur is home and he
very carefully tries not to confirm either way. He keeps his headphones on, falls asleep with them
in so he doesnt have to have an action replay of hearing Arthur in the throes of ecstasy and know
that this time its real, this time-
Pale morning light. His hand is clenching around his toothbrush and he carefully unfolds his
fingers, takes a deep breath. When he looks in the mirror hes dressed for work with no memory
of doing so, and he hastens down the stairs and straight out of the house without venturing near
any of the common spaces of the house.
He buys a takeaway coffee needs the caffeine to make up for the shitty night of not-sleep and
stares morosely at the other commuters on the Tube on his way to work. Itll get better. Soon. It
fucking has to.
Perhaps itd be better to meet the bartender. Perceval. He might stop making things up, at least,
just torturing himself. His throat tightens with the sudden misery and he glances away, biting his
lips hard enough to bruise.
Hes got two choices. In one of them he leaves and theres a great big Arthur-shaped hole in his
life. In the other, he stays, suffers like a fucking martyr by his own choice, and still sees Arthur
every day.
Right. Torture or other torture.
He takes a deep breath and pulls his phone out of his pocket as he steps off the tube. Types a text
He takes a deep breath and pulls his phone out of his pocket as he steps off the tube. Types a text
to Gwen as he climbs the stairs to the surface. Sorry about yesterday. Didnt want to talk. Im
doing okay.
He hits send once hes on street level and lets his feet take him to work.
Two choices. He closes his eyes for a second. Fucked if I know which one is right.



Merlin takes a deep breath and fixes his eyes on the TV screen. He can do this. They can do this.
Its the first time theyve done anything remotely normal in the past month. Arthur had finished the
first coat of paint upstairs and ensconced himself in the crappy recliner he bought at yet another
car boot sale, and Merlin thought to himself, screw it. Its not just the sweaty dreams part of things,
not just the fucking flirtatious phone calls with the bartender he keeps overhearing.
Theyre friends, or they were, and he wants it back. Choice made.
So hed sunk down onto the couch and turned on the TV. Awkward silence had reigned for a
while and then Merlin had snorted at something particularly vile on display, Arthur glancing up to
share the joke. It had almost been like old times. He was genuinely relaxed, when-
The swords nice, though, Arthur says idly, as Dragon rubs his chin along Arthur's free hand.
Hes still sketching something on scrap paper, mumbling measurements to himself and pretending
he doesnt secretly love Antiques Roadshow.
Merlin rolls his eyes. A sword? Seriously. Could you be any more phallus-obsessed? Arthur, he
says lightly, I can do this I can do this I can, you are a man badly in need of a boyfriend.
Arthur snorts. Merlin, he says without looking up, why on earth would I need a boyfriend? I
already have someone who steals all the milk and doesnt replace it, forces me to watch crap TV
and is completely incapable of maintaining personal boundaries.
Its not entirely inaccurate, but its a little bit mean, and the sudden knife of it has Merlin gasping,
eyes locked on the blonde head opposite. He breathes carefully, trying to think, and has the
sudden sensation of finding himself at a crossroads he hadnt understood was approaching.
Cant maintain personal boundaries is that how he thinks of it? Of that first, impulsive blow job
in the kitchen, and the oddly intimate mess theyd made of each other a few nights ago?
Fuck this noise, he thinks, Im doing it. Everything thats been pent up for weeks-
Merlin hits the remote, sudden silence like a bomb in the room. He watches the splendid grounds
of Unforgettable Castle fade to black and then he says, voice shaking, Is that what I am, then?
Your pathetic, he spits the word, and mostly platonic boyfriend?
What? Arthur jolts upright, eyes wide as he looks at Merlin for the first time in half an hour.
Because it would explain a lot. And he takes a few deep breaths, not sure where this rage is
coming from but its coursing through him already, a wide, rushing river of it and he knows from
long experience that hes not going to be able to be reasonable for this discussion.
I- Arthur just gapes at him, poleaxed.
Jeremy, for a start, Merlin says deliberately. It would explain why I got the patented Fitzroy-
Eyes-Of-Betrayal for bringing someone home. Because stupidly, I thought I was single, and
perfectly entitled to screw someone.
Pencil and paper fall from Arthurs fingers but hes recovering now, swiftly, and he says, Ive
never tried to stop you from dating.
Its a typical Arthur reply, giving away precisely nothing and it flicks Merlin entirely on the raw.
You looked at me like I was the worst kind of whore, Merlin says matter-of-factly. You looked
at him like you wanted to wipe him from the face of the earth.
And Arthur blanches, actually makes a solid noise of pain that has him hesitating for a second. But
then Arthur puts out a hand, beseeching, and shakes his head. Please dont. And thats just not
an option anymore. Merlin is bleeding, has been for months, and he cant keep on letting Arthur
do this.
I suppose its my fault for muddying the waters. He wobbles a little, then, not sure he has the
guts to say it in unforgiving daylight. Not that some incidental touching gives you any right to-
I know that, Arthur says, hurried, head down. When he does look up hes pale and tense. And
I dont think youre any kind of wh-
Actually I suppose you dont really think about me in that way at all, Merlin muses, from
somewhere remote. Im just here, arent I. Always here, with idiotic conversation and takeaway
menus and the occasional free orgasm, so of course youd get used to the convenience.
No, he says, swift and convincing, half out of his chair. Its not like that. Dragon leaps down,
offended, and stalks out of the room.
Theres no need to feel guilty, Arthur. Its only human nature, after all. I made it easy for you,
made it safe. My mistake. You dont actually want me, Arthur jolts in his seat at that but Merlin
cant stop, pushes to his feet, restless, and at least you have the moral high ground of knowing
you never made a move, I did this all on my own.
Wait. Merlin, stop.
But you are responsible for some things, Arthur. I wont accuse you of leading me on, Ive done
that to myself just fine, but you should have said something after Jeremy. You should have made it
clear that it was surprise and fucking prudery that put that look on your face, not any personal
objection, not really anything to do with me.
No, youre wrong.
Then explain it to me, he shouts suddenly. Say bloody something besides wait, and thats not
it.
Theres silence, deep as a well, dark. He waits. And waits. And finally Arthur speaks, sounding as
helpless as hes ever heard. Merlin...
But nothing else. He bites his lip, clenches his fists against the burn in his breast. He stares across
the room, barely able to believe that Arthur is just going to sit there, when Merlin is begging for
some kind of for something.
Then I am going to start dating, Arthur, he says, bewildered and hurt. And Im not going to ask
your bloody permission for that. I am going out looking for a man who could possibly, one day
give a shit about me, and I am going to be bringing people home.
Arthur just sits, silent. There are fine tremors in his hands.
I might actually call Jeremy, he says, musing. And God, where has this streak of cruelty come
from? But hes so angry, angrier than hes ever been in his life because Arthur is lying to him, and
Merlin has let him keep the lie going, all this time.
Hes a nice guy, Merlin says, watching. Arthur flinches a little at that. And miracle of miracles,
he actually wants to be with me. Said it out loud and everything.
And Arthur still wont move. His hands are biting into the arm of his chair, jaw rigid and eyes
locked on something at the far side of the room.
They sit in silence, feeling this, whatever it is oh God, their home - splinter and crack around
them and after long, silent seconds, Merlin takes a shuddering breath and turns away. Its time to
quit. He knows it. And thank God, it doesnt hurt yet. Theres a distant emptiness in him, and
when reality finally hits its gonna be worse than anything, worse than the day hed watched Will
slam out the front door full of bitterness and sarcasm. But for now hes just numb.
His hand catches on the doorframe, like a claw. Ill start looking for another place, he says, low.
His fingers dig into the wood. But Im serious about going out again. About dating. Because this
situation isnt fair to either one of us. Im not waiting, Arthur, and I cant go back to pretending,
either. You need to understand that.

Chapter 11
Chapter Summary
His vision flares gold and he gets that deep certainty that whatever this luck of his
actually is, its going to save him again.

Some kind of shiver runs over Arthur as he walks into the hallway but Merlin climbs the stairs,
slow, picking his way around the crap thats covering half the steps and all of the landing. Arthur
is finally finishing his own room, and he has simply pulled everything out and stowed it on the
edges of every available space. Mattress, bedside table, a small stack of books, lamp and clock and
all his other belongings, and it hurts just to see them, even as he hears Arthurs voice, distressed,
calling, Merlin.
So he hastens past, reckless, taking the stairs two at a time, and its not until hes reached the
second flight that he bumps against something, causing a chain reaction of dropcloths and old
newpapers. They spill out like an avalanche beneath his feet. He loses all purchase, slips toward
the standing lamp with the leadlight shade. Merlin flinches away from the heavy glass on instinct,
jerking sideways and it would have been a brilliant save if it werent for the fact that hes now
pitching headfirst over the banister on his way to a broken neck.
Time slows down, possibly. Or everything else speeds up either way he has enough time to
watch the lamp tip forward into the space where hed been standing, knocking against the edge of
the propped up mattress. His vision flares gold and he gets that deep certainty that whatever this
luck of his actually is, its going to save him again.
Theres time enough to hear Arthurs voice, utterly changed, a deep broken grind of sound that is
his name, again, Merlin NO-
And his centre of gravity tips over the railing just as the mattress topples forward, sliding
longways onto the stairs a microsecond before Merlin lands, danger transmuting into anticlimax
with a solid oooomff that hurts nonetheless and then he slides down the mattress, headfirst and
face-down, coming to a undignified stop on the landing outside Arthurs bedroom.
Merlin.
The rawness of it is awful to hear, the gasping breath at the end of the word as Arthur scrambles,
graceless, up the stairs to his side. He takes a deep breath and turns his head slightly, mind
catching up with the last few seconds and adrenaline firing through his body.
Oh my God. Arthur, that beautiful face hovering above him and Merlin starts to laugh,
helplessly. A bit hysterical possibly.
Are you- Merlin. And he sounds shattered, out of all proportion to what was, essentially, an
idiotic pratfall. One of Merlins finest to date.
Arthur, its okay. Oh God. He cant even fake the pretence of dignity. He doesnt bother trying
to get up, just flops over onto his back like a fish, still on the mattress, head lower than his feet like
a Chaplainesqe clown. What a ridiculous end to their argument. All laughter dies as he sees
Arthurs face, whiter than bone, mouth slack with terror.
No-
Its okay, he says automatically. One of his hands flies up, outstretched, clasps a shoulder.
Its not ok. You could have you should have died. And his voice breaks on the last word.
Merlin.
Ssh. Its fine, dont worry, now hes trying to sit up, still upside down, and Arthurs hands are
clutching at him.
Merlin.
Ive told you. Just lucky. Just magical enough to be saved from my own idiocy. And shit, it is
absolutely not fair for Arthur to sound like that like he cares.
You cant do that, Arthur is gasping, hunched over him, you cant do that to me. Fuck. Oh
god, you mustnt.
He levers himself up to his elbows and swings right-way-up, frowning, as Arthur backs away.
You have to be safe, Merlin, hes saying, heel of his hand pressed to his chest, hard. He falls
back against the door frame. You have to be.
Arthur, he says, bewildered. What is this? Hadnt they just established Arthur didnt care?
I cant have you, I cant make you happy - I know that, Ive admitted - but you, theres no point
to it if youre - oh God, I just stood there watching and you should have died. His face is buried
in one hand, words muffled.
But Merlin is frozen on the spot. What- what do you mean, you cant have me?
You can totally have me, you daft git. Ill never be happy without you.
How can you possibly think you wouldnt make me happy?
I cant-
Arthurs hand falls away and his face cracks, just for an instant, and Merlin sees the terror beneath.
Hes frozen in place, control clearly shredded by adrenaline and fear.
Arthur, he breathes, pushing upright, Jesus, what-
He can see the moment that iron control breaks. Its like a dam bursting, immeasurable weight
flooding past the barriers, unstoppable in its momentum, carrying everything on that first, immense
wave. Their eyes lock.
And then Arthur pounces, hands hard and possessive.
Its a kiss to consume, a conflagration. Merlin opens beneath him, helpless as always to resist him,
and finally theyre doing this, oh God the kisses hes dreamed of, pined for and dreamed of again
only to wake, aching and alone.
Arthur, hes gasping, completely overwhelmed, and Arthur makes a sound so filthy he moans
and shudders, biting at the lush bottom lip pressed against his own.
His clothes are disappearing, when he opens his eyes its to find Arthur dragging Merlins shirt
over his head with absolute focus, question not even asked and Merlin gasps, shock of arousal
running through him at what he sees in Arthur face.
Youre mine. Arthur growls it. All of that bloody-minded determination is suddenly on Merlin,
and hes helplessly aroused to see it, with a fair amount of stunned thrown in.
Yes-
Mine. Its accompanied by a bite to the neck, hands busy with buttons and zippers.
Yes. He drags in a breath, God, yes, just, do it, just- Arthur, please.
Arthur drags his own shirt up and off, the bare skin of their chests bumping together as Merlin
surges beneath him, some part of his brain functioning enough to remember that they need
supplies, that there is bedroom furniture scattered everywhere on the staircase and surely-
The back of his searching hand knocks against wood, Arthurs bedside table, and he manages
only to gasp, Arthur, we need- before he is sidetracked into licking that perfect chest.
Arthur makes a pornographic noise and surges forward, digging into the top drawer while Merlin
bites across his abdomen, fingers making swift work of the jeans below, underwear, hearing a
very satisfying moan when he frees that beautiful cock and wraps his fingers around it. Arthur
slides back down his body at light speed, lube and condom falling to the floor beside them.
Merlin, you must, you must, Arthur is gasping into his mouth, moving back down to strip
Merlins jeans away and he is kissing back wordless agreement to anything he wants, yes, of
course as his hands slide inside Arthurs jeans, cupping his beautiful arse.
You must be careful, he finally manages, pressing Merlin back against the mattress.
Merlin cant contain the wild laughter that bursts out of him at that moment, not that he has control
of much at all with Arthurs hand wrapped around him.
Arthur just do it, just take me, mark me, make me, he is gasping, hips lifting restlessly into
Arthurs free hand, hears the familiar snick of the lube and then long, slick fingers are sliding,
pressing inside and he moans, hard and long and shameless.
Thats good, he pants, thats great. Come on.
He gets a wordless sound of disagreement against his throat, teeth and tongue driving him crazy.
Im not delicate, Arthur-
Arthurs head lifts at that, blue eyes blazing down into Merlins, and he freezes, arousal winding
impossibly high as the second finger slides in. How had he not known Arthur could look like
that?
His face is taut, all planes and angles and want and yet the implacable core of him remains,
burning bright, burning for Merlin. And those clever fingers keep on working inside Merlin as
Arthur looms over him, like the sun.
Mine, Arthur says, his voice thick. He scrapes ruthlessly over Merlins prostate and catches the
broken-off shout in his mouth, biting and sucking. Raises his head again, eyes blazing. Mine.
Yes. Oh, fuck. Hes so close. He can barely keep his eyes open, but he is utterly incapable of
looking away from the vision above him. this is Arthur its really Arthur he wants me look at
how he wants me
Braced above him on one shaking arm, fingers moving relentlessly, Arthur says, Mine to take.
Mine to keep. Mine to care for.
And Merlin comes hard, arse clenching, voice utterly broken around Arthurs name.
When the world returns again, he can hear the blessed sound of a foil wrapper being torn open.
Yes, he manages to hiss, and lifts his head just enough to watch Arthur slide the condom over
himself. Oh yes, he says, and their eyes lock. He cant hold back the full body shudder. Arthurs
eyes are black with lust and Merlin is, oh God he wants.
He reaches for Arthur with heavy arms, hand wrapping around his nape as he tilts his hips up, feet
braced flat, inviting. That lush, hot mouth opens over his and Arthur moans, long and low as their
bodies align. Oh, Merlin pants, oh God, he gasps as hes slowly filled, perfect and implacable,
Arthur. One leg wraps around Arthurs hips, drawing him closer, further.
I knew youd be like this, he manages. I knew youd ruin me. And through half-closed eyes
he watches Arthurs face harden, lust and triumph and relief stripping away the civilized veneer.
In that instant hes a warlord, a conqueror revealed.
Merlin, is all he says, low and loose and sex. And then he begins to move.
Merlin is twitching and crazed in under a minute, and Arthur, of course, is relentless. All that
fucking control doesnt just evaporate, he moves inside Merlin like theyre balanced on a
highwire, slow and rhythmic and perfect and oh shit, this is going to take them so high theyre
never going to recover and hes gasping the words aloud, watching Arthur bite his lips until
theyre swollen because apparently Merlins voice is his kryptonite.
His rhythm stutters, speeds up and Merlin smiles, sly, keeps talking when he can manage actual
words, the coil of heat in his gut winding so tight all he can manage mostly is Arthur and yes and
God and more and fuck. His hands move over Arthurs bare skin restlessly, cant get enough,
learning and relearning the planes and angles and heat.
Merlin, Arthur gasps, eyes closing as he tips his head back. Fuck, so good.
Waited so long, Merlin moans, thrusting up, fingers digging, oh God Ive wanted you so long,
Arthur.
Arthurs head drops down, eyes dazed as they lock on Merlins face and his lips part, panting,
teeth gritted as the pace increases and hes so close, Merlin can see it, then he shifts to one arm and
reaches for Merlins cock.
I want, he manages, and Merlin groans shamelessly as Arthurs strokes drive him higher, timed
perfectly.
Arthur, he grinds out, throat tight with longing and maybe its the sound of Merlins voice that
has Arthur crying out, shocked, coming, hand still moving on Merlin so that a few seconds later
his vision whites out and hes gone.
They are gasping into each other in the aftermath, and Merlins arms close around Arthur even as
he pulls out and tosses the condom aside.
Two world-class orgasms in the past half-hour has clearly derailed his brain because instead of
wallowing in afterglow he stupidly speaks. Are you, Arthur are you going to
The words disappear into a long, deep kiss because apparently someone else does want to wallow.
It feels like twenty minutes before Arthur lifts his head and says hoarsely, What?
Merlin blinks at him, mind blank and Arthur parrots back, Am I going to what?
He swallows. Okay then. Hes going to ask. Is it going to be like this never happened? Because
honestly? I dont think I can take that. I just cant.
Merlin, he murmurs against his jawbone, do you honestly think I could go back now?
Yes, Merlin says immediately, and his tone is full of such absolute certainty that Arthur flinches.
Yes, I think you would drop me like a stone.
That golden head lifts and Arthur just stares, undone.
Merlin sighs and cups his cheek tenderly. If you decided it was best for me.
Those blue eyes dont blink, never falter, but his arms are shaking.
Im not sure what this is about, he continues slowly, letting his thumb stroke over flawless skin
and watching the face he dreams of posed above him. But theres something about you,
Arthur. Youre bound, somehow. Theres something holding you to ransom, something that has
you convinced your happiness isnt important. That all youre worth is what you can do for others,
never for yourself.
His breath is coming fast. Merlin, he begins, voice light.
I want you to tell me. Now Merlin swallows, I need you to tell me. Because youre wrong,
Arthur. Youre wrong about what you deserve.
And he dives into another kiss, slow and soft and all the words unspoken float between them.
Hes cupping Arthurs face in gentle hands, thumbs stroking over his cheekbones. Hes going too
fast. He knows it.
Whatever Arthur is hiding, whatever it is he fears, its going to take time before he can talk about
it. You dont just give up something youve been hiding for years, even for one amazing shag. If
anyone knows that, its me, he thinks guiltily of his own little secret.
So Merlin sinks himself into the kiss and by the end he thinks hazily that maybe he can wait to
hear it. For kisses like that hed wait decades. When he finally pulls back he whispers against that
swollen mouth, Come to bed. Come on.
Arthur blinks stupidly at him and Merlin doesnt grin, just tucks that expression away to gloat over
later. He rolls to his feet and pulls Arthur up the stairs behind him, unable to stop the constant,
glancing touches to whatever skin is nearest. All the small affections hes been holding back for
months are flowing out in one long burst.
He pulls Arthur briefly into the shower to clean them both up, can tell by the silence and the
drooping eyelids that the adrenaline from Merlins fall and the aftermath have hollowed Arthur out
and so he dries them both swiftly and pulls Arthur into his room where they can tumble onto
thankfully clean sheets.
They align themselves on their sides automatically, faces close.
Why did you laugh? It starts as a mumble into the pillow but Arthur turns his head to watch
Merlin answer, eyes serious and watchful. He doesnt even have to clarify, doesnt have to say
when I told you to be careful.
For a moment he considers lying.
Arthur, he says finally, tasting the truth and the sadness all at once, being with you is the most
reckless thing I could possibly do.
Those blue eyes blink at him. The silence stretches taut enough to snap before he says, Why?
Because. You are going to smash me into a million tiny pieces when youre done with me,
Merlin says, and hes known this for so long its not hard to sound matter-of-fact.
He props himself up on his elbow, lips parting to deliver an instinctive denial. Then Merlin looks
up and meets his eyes.
Arthur stops. Expressions chase across his face, guilt and surprise and joy and fear and he says in
a rush, You have to protect yourself. Merlin. Please. Even against me.
He reaches up to cup Arthurs head and draw him down for a kiss. Im sorry, he whispers
against those lips, Thats just not possible.
Arthur huffs out a breath at that, a denial thats almost a sob, and Merlin just kisses him. Go to
sleep, Arthur, he says, and its so easy to be gentle, so easy to let everything hes been feeling
just show. We can talk about it later. All of it.
And Arthurs eyes close on the command.

Chapter 12
Chapter Summary
Suddenly, Merlins shark-like success rate in finding undiscovered antiques is
explained. He could probably stroll through Buckingham frigging Palace and
convince them to sell him a Boule table for a fiver.

Its hours later. They are curled around one another, silent in the near-dark when Arthur says,
Merlin.
Mmmm. The sound that emerges is sleepy and sated, and Merlin grins a little. Hes never heard
that sound in his own voice before, not like that.
You must be careful.
Hmm. You keep saying that. His head falls back as he stretches.
Merlin. You must promise me.
He lifts his head, watching Arthurs face in the darkness. The glint in his eye. All right, he says
slowly, I promise Ill be careful.
Because if you, he swallows, if anything ever happened to you. It would destroy me.
He blinks slowly at Arthur.
I dont just mean Id be devastated by grief. I mean that, if you died, well. He shrugs, grim. I
dont really see and he doesnt finish, but Merlin gets what he means just fine.
Arthur, he whispers. Dont you dont you dare say that.
His face has closed up again, going to that place where theres only duty and no emotion, that
place Merlin fucking hates, and he reaches out to kiss it away. You need to tell me, he whispers
against those lips. Arthur, please tell me.
He cant hide the instinctive flinch and Merlin sighs, digs deep for patience. All right then, he
says against Arthurs throat. How about if I guess?
What?
He leans back and switches on the lava lamp, wanting a tiny bit of light so he can watch Arthurs
face for this bit. He knows some of it, but not everything. But he has new information now, and
he is going to figure this out.
You care about me, he starts there, tasting the words and the wonder of it, gathering his
courage. And you want me. He cant hide the amazement in his voice and Arthurs face softens,
a visual representation of of course I do, you idiot. If Id known that, I might have figured out this
mess a bit sooner.
I dont he frowns.
Arthur, he says, suddenly soft, youre not the type to hold back because youre afraid youll get
hurt. Youre far too stupidly brave for that. If you want me but you didnt act on it, its because
you were protecting me.
Arthur just blinks.
Yes, Merlin nods to himself. Bingo.
And youre not worried youll hurt me emotionally, he says, because the image of Arthur falling
back against the stairs, clutching his chest like hes afraid his heart will stop, is not going to fade
anytime soon. Youre physically afraid for my safety.
This time the yes is in his sudden stillness. Merlin takes a slow breath, turns it over very slowly in
his mind. I dont like where this is going
But you wouldnt hurt me like that. You wouldnt hurt anyone that way. And if you had some
terrible disease or something, youd have just told me. So the only thing thats left is theres
someone else. Arthur doesnt flinch. His body is under careful control now, and Merlin goes on,
voice getting softer. Theres someone in the picture who would hurt me if they knew I was
involved with you.
He waits, but Arthur doesnt speak. And thats when he makes another connection. Thats why
you were upset that Will wasnt my boyfriend. Not because- he stops there, abruptly.
Hes feeling pretty cocky right now, with Arthurs naked body pressed against his. But hes still
not quite in a place where he can easily say not because you knew I had a pathetic crush and
might embarrass you with it. He slides down in the bed instead, closer to Arthur. You wanted me
to have a visible boyfriend, so no-one would think we were together when I moved in.
Arthur takes a deep, steady breath. Hands flex against Merlins skin and he arches into them,
automatic. Its dizzying, this feeling that he can have, of all unlikely things, Arthur. Still, they need
to move forward somehow. So he nuzzles that perfect neck and says, Can you help me out
here?
I cant- Arthur begins, and Merlins heart sinks. Then he says, Ive never talked about it.
He takes a breath, tightness in his chest easing. Yes, I think I guessed that part.
He can feel the glance Arthur shoots at him for that.
Arthur- he takes another breath and says, are you in any danger?
No, Arthur says, clearly disgusted.
Merlin manages not to roll his eyes because of course, Arthur would prefer someone was trying to
hurt him. But at least hes tacitly admitted something is going on.
But I might be? he asks, delicately. Physical danger, you mean?
Arthur is pale as milk. Yes, he says, voice shaking. I dont know if hell fixate on you, Ive
never really understood what makes him react, but Merlin, he takes a shuddering breath and its
clearly taking everything Arthur has to finish this sentence. Hes killed people.
Merlins eyes open wide and he stares up at Arthur. Oh, is all he says.
He hadnt expected that. Gwen and Lances silence is suddenly a lot more understandable, if
Merlins life is possibly on the line.
They stay as they are, leaning together and breathing shakily for a while. Hes killed people.
Finally, Merlins brain starts working again. But if hes Arthur, if hes killed people surely the
police- he hesitates, doesnt want to sound accusing. I mean, is he-
Hes in an institution at the moment, Arthur says dully.
So theres not really much danger, then. Right?
And Arthur flinches away, though hes only moved a few inches before Merlins hands fasten on
him instinctively. The last time, his head drops, braced on Merlins shoulder, and he takes a
breath. Ive only ever had one serious boyfriend, Merlin.
He brings his hand up to cup the back of Arthurs neck, rubs gently as Arthur goes on, talking to
Merlins chest.
It was when I was in the paras. He was locked up then and Leons apartment was blown up
anyway.
Holy shit. Merlins body jerks, just a little. Oh, Arthur. On one level hes aware that all of this has
meaning for him personally, specifically, but overlaying all of that is the sense of puzzle pieces
falling into place. The great big puzzle that is the man in his arms. Did he?
He survived, Arthur says, but from his tone of voice he might as well be saying I tortured him
and chopped him into pieces. Sheer dumb luck. Hed gotten a letter meant for his neighbour by
mistake, hed just stepped into the hallway to return it.
All right, Merlin says softly, eyeing Arthurs exhausted face. All right. Enough for now. Get
some sleep. Arthurs hands skitter restlessly over his skin, as if he can instill some kind of
protective field with a touch, and Merlin just presses closer until he feels some of the tension ease
away, drops kisses on his face until those blue eyes close, and he lies awake for a while staring
into the night, wondering.


Hes awoken by the divine scent of frying eggs and bacon. Arthur blinks about eleven times
before the fog of sleep lifts and he realizes where he is, who is cooking, and what happened last
night.
He bolts upright in Merlins bed, diverted from full-scale panic when a piece of paper flutters
down to land in his lap from where it had been resting on his naked chest.
Dont move. Ill be back in a moment, bearing food.
He stares down at the precise, yet loopy handwriting. Something is trying to fight its way out of
his chest.
Could be a panic attack. Could be happiness.
He slides out of bed, still holding the note, and sneaks into the bathroom, not sure why, exactly,
hes sneaking at all. When hes done he washes his hands and face, cleans his teeth and retrieves
the note from the side of the basin. Back in the hallway, he hesitates, then hunts out his pajama
bottoms from the pile on the stairs and pulls them on before heading back up to Merlins bed. Hes
still clutching the stupid note.
Merlins treads on the staircase give him warning, at least. He slides back until hes leaning
upright against the wall, eyes fixed on the doorway.
A tousled head of dark hair appears, with a grin bright enough to blind him. They look at one
another for a long moment before Merlin says very softly, Morning.
He slouches around the corner, hands carefully balancing their one and only chopping board and
its contents pot of tea, two mugs, spoons, sugar and a jug of milk.
Morning, Arthur remembers to say, belatedly, as Merlin sets the board down on a corner of the
bed, then crawls across the sheets to press his mouth against Arthurs. Its deliberate, slow and
warm and sexy as all hell. Arthurs actually leaning forward to follow that mouth when Merlin
withdraws. A tiny curve at the corner of Merlins mouth is the only sign of smugness as he turns
back, grips the tea tray and tugs it up the bed, stopping when its level with Arthurs hips.
You make the tea, he says, wriggling backwards, Ill be back in a second with the food.
Merlin- he begins, then stops, not sure what exactly he was going to say.
Dont worry, Merlin says from the doorway. The look he sends over his shoulder is both
affectionate and amused. I dont think its possible to actually break out in hives just because
youre the one being taken care of, for once. And besides, he continues as he walks out the door,
and the rest of the sentence is muffled by distance but Arthurs pretty sure he says, youre going to
need your strength today.
Arthur stares blankly some more, then collects himself enough to assemble two mugs of tea and
set everything else on the floor by the bed. Just in time, as Merlin enters the room fully-laden. He
has acquired the short, squat stool Arthur uses to reach the tops of window frames, and when he
sets it down on Arthurs lap like some freakish Mothers Day offering, theyre both grinning at the
ridiculousness of it.



And as it turned out Merlin was quite right. Arthur did need his strength. All day long.




The sun is rising, perfect and new and its sappy symbolism but he needs to make this clean and
honest and now seems to be the time. He watches the miracle in his bed, absorbing all the small
touches that he wants to believe no-one else will ever see the way those clumsy limbs curl into
elegant and graceful lines as Merlin sleeps, the angle of his impossible cheekbones, the tiny twitch
in the curve of his bottom lip that signals he is waking.
He could watch for hours. Weeks. If fate is kind, perhaps hell get the chance before it ends.
Merlin stretches before he opens his eyes. Still clinging to sleep, but as Arthur watches he sees the
transition, the slight parting of those lips in a silent oh as something brings it all back. A twinge of
soreness, perhaps, whisker burn on soft skin. Perhaps their scents, mingling on the sheets.
Whatever it is, as his eyes fly open he smiles, and the sheer sweetness of it has Arthurs chest near
to bursting.
Mmm, he hums, and his eyes are wicked above that honey smile. Without moving at all, he has
Arthur tied in knots, and hes crouched over Merlin, kissing him slow and deep before he actually
makes a decision to move.
Morning, Merlin whispers against his lips. And by the way? Youre gorgeous.
Arthur manages a smile, Lets not start with an argument, he says softly, But Ive been
watching you sleep and Im pretty confident I could provide statistical proof that actually, youre
gorgeous.
Merlin shakes his head, sleepy idiotic smile on his face and Arthur closes his eyes. For a moment
the rage sweeps up. Fuck it all. Why cant he just have this? Why cant he just roll back into
Merlins arms and never leave, spend the morning fucking him slowly into the mattress until
theyve both lost their minds?
Whatever it is, you can say it, Merlin murmurs against his throat. Im awake and aware, and
waiting isnt helping your blood pressure any.
Arthur blinks and draws back. He knows Merlins incredibly bright, obviously, but somehow he
still gets lulled into forgetting, falling for that mild, wide-eyed thing he does.
Suddenly, Merlins shark-like success rate in finding undiscovered antiques is explained. He could
probably stroll through Buckingham frigging Palace and convince them to sell him a Boule table
for a fiver.
A tiny smile touches the corner of Arthurs mouth even as he shakes his head. Its a weird time to
discover that hes proud of Merlin. You do it on purpose, he says, sliding back until hes
standing by the bed again, dressed only in his pajamas. That wide-eyed idiot look.
Merlins lips twitch. I havent the faintest idea what youre talking about, Arthur. And then he
sits up, draws his legs up under the sheets and leans back on his arms, taking a deep breath.
Slightly defensive. Ready.
Arthur falls back to lean against the window, the newly-finished sill digging into his rear end. He
grips it hard and swallows, keeping his eyes locked on Merlins face.
I havent been honest with you, Merlin.
The other man resists the opportunity to say, duh, which displays more self-control than Arthur
had expected. Instead he wraps his arms around his knees and waits.
Its not an ex-lover.
Theres the flicker of an eyelid as Merlin places the reference, knows what theyre talking about.
The man who wants to-
-control you, Merlin says, just as Arthur says, -hurt you.
They blink at one another for a moment, bemused. Then Arthur swallows hard.
Its my father.
Merlin just blinks at him. The room isnt silent, Arthurs breathing too heavily, heart beating too
hard for that. Theres a wash of white noise in his ears at knowing hes finally going to hes
doing it. Hes going to tell Merlin everything.
Your father.
He nods and finally drags his eyes to Merlins face, wondering what hell see there. Its mostly
confusion and a kind of distaste, and though thats not a complete surprise Arthur realizes a beat
later that hes led Merlin astray in the path hes taken to get here, making a comparison to stalking-
No, he says hastily, its not not like that. Its not sexual.
Merlin is frozen, uncertain, and he sighs. Admitting defeat, he turns until hes leaning against the
wall and lets himself slide to the floor before his nerves take all his remaining strength. The attack
on Leon was unusual. Its not about jealousy. He was punishing me for disobedience, I guess
hed call it. His other crimes, his original crimes were for other reasons.
Merlin takes a deep breath and slides out from under the covers. He pulls on a pair of pajama
bottoms and sets himself up opposite Arthur, on the floor, leaning against the bed. Their knees
bump as he says softly, Tell me.
Arthur tips his head back and swallows hard. Hes insane. He believes- he scrubs a hand over
his face and just says it, hating the words, he believes hes descended from royalty. That hes the
rightful King. Of England, he adds, in case there was any doubt.
He risks a glance at Merlin, sees the wide eyes before he hears the murmured, Fitz-Roi.
Descended from the king.
Trust Merlin to know the provenance of Arthurs surname. He manages a wry smile. Exactly. He
has this detailed, elaborate family tree. And I mean, some of it is- he does have royal connections,
but Jesus, who doesnt? Theres probably ten different families who could claim the same thing
if this succession had gone differently, if they hadnt been disinherited or married a Catholic or lost
the marriage certificate
He leans back against the wall again and keeps his eyes on Merlin this time. Theres been no
instinctive recoil from the word insane, and he probably should have known that. Theres too
much love in that big heart of Merlins for anything else. He swallows and forces himself to finish.
Anyway as far as I could tell, he was mostly all right when I was growing up. His hand
strokes over the leather cuff of his watch for an instant. Mostly. He was strict. And snobby.
But all right. But the older I got the more he seemed to obsess about this theory he was
determined to find a way to ascend the throne and pass it to his heir.
He sees Merlin bite his lip and forges on. There were things I didnt know about still dont
really know, to be honest things he never told me outright. But he would allude to this
conspiracy that was keeping him from his birthright, hidden enemies Crazy stuff, he thinks
despairingly. Even back then, Uther must have been unbalanced. Not that the boy hed been had
realized that. Hed believed his father blindly, for far too long.
Anyway, he shakes his head, presses his hands to his eyes and leaves that mess for another day.
The real stuff is more than enough to start with.
When I was away at school, there were incidents. The house of some minor nobility burned
down, someone Id heard him rant about before. He was pleased. I thought it was just sour
grapes. The family moved away, they didnt have the capital to rebuild. A local historian
disappeared. Everyone thought hed run off with his girlfriend to Spain his bookshop was on the
verge of declaring bankruptcy.
Merlins hand wraps gently around Arthurs ankle and he takes a sharp breath, focuses his eyes on
it those long, familiar fingers. Its getting to the hard part now. Those stories were bad enough but-
Then there was Tristan. He was the son of a local barrister, a bit of a twat but no big deal. He
used to bully the local kids a bit. He and I constantly locked horns. His Dad was trying to edge my
father out of the role of local magistrate. The two of them died in a house fire while I was home
from uni, one Christmas. The fire was suspicious.
He clenches his fists, hard. Gwen- Gwens Dad was a firefighter. Her Mum had worked for us as
a cook for years, she died of cancer when Gwen and I were eleven. Merlins fingers tighten and
he scoots forward a little, warming Arthur with his presence. Gwen and I were always great
mates, even when I went away to school. And then Morgana came to live with us a few years
after that. Her parents lost control of their car on a mountain road in Switzerland somewhere while
she was at boarding school the three of us spent a lot of summers together as teenagers.
Theres silence and then he says, Gwens Dad was injured trying to pull Tristan out of the fire.
He spent months in hospital, Gwen had to leave school to care for him and finally he- he died.
Fuck, Merlin says softly. And the fire
My father did it, Arthur says flatly. I know he did.
But its never been proved?
I was his alibi.
Merlins head jerks at that. Their gazes lock and Arthur waits for the blame, the suspicion. It never
comes. Tell me, Merlin says.
Arthur sighs, scoots down further until his legs are pressed against Merlins hip. We were
watching football, he says. Premier League.
Merlin nods, fingers stroking Arthurs ankle.
Morgana was spending the night in London with a friend. My father had made mulled wine, he
poured me a glass and we sat on the couch together, just talking about the game. It was nice.
We didnt do stuff like that very often.
He closes his eyes, bringing the night back to mind. The rest of the night is a haze. It was horrible
weather, just horrible. An ice storm, sleet. The game I only remember a few bits and pieces.
There was a penalty West Ham scored from an absolutely spectacular corner at some point
my father spilled the bowl of popcorn all over the floor. And somewhere on the other side of the
village Tristan and his father were dying of smoke inhalation.
Merlins frowning, confused. I thought you said-
The storm, Arthur said dully. It brought down the TV relay tower for the entire county.
Nobody in town saw the second half of the match, when that penalty happened. The signal was
out for an hour, well past full time. But somehow I saw it. I cant remember the rest of the match
but I remember that. It took me days to work it out well, at first I was only thinking about Gwen
and her Dad. But I just couldnt forget-
He takes a shaky breath and leans forward. The police questioned me. Dad was a suspect, he and
Tristans father had argued a month before. But no-one seriously suspected the magistrate, not
when his son said theyd watched the game together, precisely when the fire was being lit.
He slants a look up at Merlin and says dully, He roofied me. He taped the match earlier from our
satellite feed. I think he played it on a loop, knowing the drugs would screw up my sense of time.
He was there at the start, and there again at the end, did something memorable so Id have a story
to tell and when I was confused he joked with the cops about how I was a lightweight drinker.
Merlin just stares.
Morganas the one who figured it out. I couldnt- couldnt think. I knew something was wrong, I
knew the whole night had been off. But I couldnt he breathed in again. I didnt want to
suspect him. And then there was Gwen-
But Arthur, he begins slowly, how do you thats pretty complicated. How do you know?
One of the locals had just been convicted for slipping GHB to some tourists at the local pub.
Morgana convinced the local superintendent shed been roofied and got him to check the
evidence. There were three pills missing from the evidence bag.
And your father-
Had access, Arthur says heavily. Its a small town, no-one suspected anyone of anything until
it was far too late. He shivers, and Merlins hand slides up and down his calf, calming,
comforting. I confronted him and he didnt deny. Didnt get angry. Didnt get anything. Merlin,
I looked him in the eye and I just knew. Hed done it, and he wasnt the least bit sorry, not even
about Gwens Dad.
But they didnt charge him?
There was no real evidence. My testimony was fucked up, it looked like Id changed my story
once already and by my own admission Id drunk alcohol and my recollection was hazy. There
was at least half a dozen different people who could have taken the pills and used them for almost
any purpose, there was no physical evidence linking him to the fires
So what happened?
Morgana and I confronted him. We told him wed go to the Press if he didnt confess. He
refused, probably knowing we didnt have enough for any paper to actually publish and risk a
legal battle. But we persisted and there started to be talk. And after a while
Arthur shrugs. He didnt like the idea of the family name being sullied by rumours. He agreed to
resign as Magistrate and check himself into a clinic. The local superintendent wouldnt listen to us
but there was a younger cop in town who believed it. He said hed keep an eye on my father. It
was the best we could do. He sighed, heart heavy.
There was a long pause. It took a long time for me to really believe. Morgana was the one who
I can see now shed never really liked my father, shed always had a feeling there was something
wrong. Shes the one who went back and checked on old, suspicious deaths linked to the area,
to my family. Thats how we know about the first big fire, about the historian whod argued over
some point of my fathers claim hes never been seen again. I dont know if there are others or
not.
Merlin is shaking his head, eyes shadowed. Arthur. Thats. Bloody hell, thats-
I know.
He lets out a long, slow breath. So whats the situation now? I mean. Are the police are they
doing anything?
Well. He hesitates, then says, There was nothing happening, for a long time. All the old cases
are either still open, like Tristans case, or else they were ruled accidental like the first fire. Leons
apartment well. The guy in charge of that case got kind of fixated on the gay element, saw it as
a hate crime. He wouldnt believe me, didnt really pursue the possibility that my father was
responsible. So hes never been charged with that, either.
But theres a new well. A DI called me a few weeks ago, a new guy. Hes just been
transferred to the Met from up north and he wants to look at it again. He thinks- Arthur licked his
lips and stopped, suddenly wondering if this was all too much. If it will make him sound crazy.
Keep going, Merlin said quietly. I want to hear it. Everything.
He thinks there might be something to it my suspicions. That possibly.
Merlin just waits.
That my father might have me under some kind of surveillance, he finishes in a rush. There. He
hasnt actually said it, but Merlins no fool and this will, hell understand now just how twisted
this is, how dangerous. I asked you to come and live here even though theres a madman
watching me.
Hes silent for a long time, and Arthur swallows silently and gathers his strength. Hes not going
to make this harder for Merlin, if the younger man wants to leave-
What does this guy look like? The DI, he clarifies at Arthurs confused look.
Uh. He casts his mind back, wondering why on earth this would be important. Older. Dark
hair. Kind of tired. Greg Travers.
You met him at the pub.
Yes. Arthur nods, then jerks his head up swiftly. What?
I was picking up takeaway at that Thai place a few weeks ago, Merlin says softly, hes gazing
past Arthur, an odd smile on his face. I saw you at the pub with this guy it seemed like a weird
conversation. Kind of gave me the willies, to be honest, so I colour appears on his cheeks,
hung back, watched.
Arthur just nods. Then he bites his lip. He gave me an untraceable phone so we could talk about
the case its possible my father is somehow accessing my phone records. Merlin just nods, and
he adds painfully, Theres um, something else, too. A kind of well, he suggested, and Ive
been-
The bartender, Merlin says very softly.
Arthur just stares. You-
I saw you at the bar.
He can feel himself flush, deep red. That must have looked- and then, after the other night- and the
phone call next morning. Oh, shit.
Ive been, um. A bit panicked. About you- yknow, living here, with you. Greg finally suggested
that I-
-embark on a public flirtation, Merlin finishes for him, more kindly than he deserves.
Perceval, hes a constable, hes working undercover for the DI, Greg thinks we can draw my
father out, maybe. Its not I dont, I mean - nothings hap-
Arthur, Merlin says, very soft. Its all right.
Arthur looks up at him. All the desperate shame hes been hoarding is just welling up inside.
After that first night, Merlin. When you- in the kitchen. I wanted to I wanted so much to-
Its all right.
But I couldnt. His voice is hoarse. And then. The other night. You saw everything, you
always see right through me and I lay awake all night, I was so afraid that youd- and I had to
keep you away somehow- he gulps in a huge breath of air. I staged that call, Merlin, so youd
hear it. I sent Perceval a text while I was upstairs getting dressed and I came down and just
fucking waited for the phone to ring so that youd-
Merlin is moving, toward Arthur again, always toward Arthur, never away, never leaving the way
he should, the way Arthur deserves and he closes his eyes, as if he might fly apart with everything
inside him as he feels Merlin straddle his hips, foreheads resting together, hands running up and
down Arthurs arms. Its okay, Arthur, hes whispering. Its okay now. Im here.
You shouldnt be, he whispers back. You should be running for your life. I should make you
run.
I promise, he says, cutting through all the bullshit, typical Merlin. I promise you Ill be careful.
I wont act any different. I wont call you, I wont touch you in public, I wont tell anyone about
us. I promise. You dont have to worry about me, Arthur, I promise you.
His breaths are shuddering out, then in, and he curls his fingers very carefully around Merlins
wrists. He doesnt have the edge he used to, when he was active in the paras, but he still cant just
let go of his emotions. Its so very easy to hurt someone.
I wont make you carry that, Merlin whispers, you worry enough already. No-one will know
anything is different. Theres a long pause, then he says, low, Ill move out, if you want.
His fingers flex on Merlins wrists before he can control himself. For how long?
Until-
Arthur lets out a sharp bark of laughter as he sees the realization dawn. Right. Until its over.
Which will be when? When we catch him? When he confesses? When Im an old man
myself?
Merlin bites his lip, hard. Well figure it out, he says, firm and sure.
Arthur takes a big, shaky breath. Hes going to have to fight him on this, too, fight until Merlins
self-preservation instinct kicks in and he realizes the only place thats safe is far away from Arthur.
Well, Merlins the wide-eyed, trusting type, while hes the big tough ex-soldier. Hell win in the
end.
His eyes meet Merlins, and he blinks slowly at the mule-stubborn look hes receiving.
Okay. Hell probably win in the end.
Blue eyes burn into his. Im not leaving you, not ever, Merlin says, and his tone gives the
distinct impression that somewhere those words have spontaneously carved themselves into a
granite boulder. Forget it.
Maybe hell win.
Merlins hand strokes gently over Arthurs chest.
Sixty percent chance.
Then he smiles, very slowly, and the sunlight streaming through the window catches his ears.
Okay, fuck. Forty.


Chapter 13
Chapter Summary
He wonders idly what someone as open and sunny as Merlin thinks of as a juicy
secret. His fathers identity, perhaps? Hes secretly Cliff Richards love child?

Merlins long, clever fingers dance over the leather cuff on Arthurs wrist. You never take this
off, he says, his voice taut.
Arthur doesnt speak. His entire focus is on the tight heat of Merlin around him, the achingly slow
build of pleasure as he moves. They are twined closely together on Arthurs bed, on their sides,
pinned together by Arthurs arm across Merlins chest and Merlins hand at Arthurs hip.
He opens his mouth against Merlins spine, lets his tongue taste and hears the hitch in Merlins
breathing.
Can I? he persists, and Arthur forces his eyes open, barely able to think, let alone speak.
Mnmfh, he groans against Merlins nape, uncaring about anything other than the tightening at
the base of his spine. Still, when he feels the leather cuff loosen on his wrist his hips stutter for just
a moment.
Merlin presses back against him and Arthur rolls his eyes up toward the ceiling as he slides further
inside that heat. God, he manages, oh God.
Merlin draws Arthurs hand to his mouth, sliding his tongue around warm fingers as the watch
thuds to the floor and Arthur grips his hips harder, convulsive. Merlin.
Hmm? Its deplorably innocent, that sound, considering Merlin is fellating his fingers like a
French prostitute and Arthur speeds up, helpless, thrusting harder and biting his lip at the sound
Merlin makes even as his runs his fingers, feather-light over Arthurs scar.
Then the scar and the bed and the fucking time-space continuum itself disappear in the fevered
drive that takes him over, lost completely to the utter ecstasy of having Merlin in his arms,
surrounding him, with him. The open-mouthed gasp from Merlin as Arthur reaches around to
palm his erection slams him completely past restraint and he comes, hard, barely aware of Merlins
mouth closing over his scar, biting hard as he fucks Arthurs fist, his orgasm punching out bare
seconds later.
Theyre still gasping into one another, minutes later, when Merlin mumbles a Sorry against
Arthurs throat.
What? Hes nuzzling Merlins ear, pure gluttony of joy and sensation.
Sorry for, you know. The bite.
Unh? Arthur raises his arm hazily, has a momentary jolt when he sees the scar and the band of
pale skin thats usually hidden by his watch. But overlaying the scar is a neat set of toothmarks, a
part of Merlin left on his skin and when he flexes he feels the ache.
Theres silence as he stares at it stupidly. The bad and the good, written on his skin, side by side.
A hot poker and the sense of stunned anger and bewilderment, a moment so far back in childhood
sometimes he can almost pretend hes forgotten, and now Merlin. Lost in pleasure, leaving his
mark on Arthur in so many ways.
Its fine, Merlin, he finally says, and flexes again just to feel it, to be reminded. His fingertips
drift over it again a second later, and he doesnt put his watch back on until the morning.



Merlins watching that leather strap slide back on to cover the bite mark and the scar beneath
when it just slips out. Thursdays, he says suddenly, and Arthur entire body tenses beside him.
Theres a pause, and then Merlin asks, Where do you- what do you do?
Its a long time before Arthur answers, reluctant. I visit.
Visit who?
And maybe that reluctance should have told Merlin, but hes still stunned to hear Arthur say, My
father.
Your- your father? You visit him?
Theres silence and hes honestly dizzy trying to make sense of this. The words just spill out
unbidden, But- but he killed- but Gw- Merlin swallows the rest of the sentence as Arthurs
entire body flinches away.
Yes, he says, very distant. Expecting to be judged and Merlins throat is closed tight in shock
and confusion.
I I dont.
I know. Arthur swings out of bed and throws on some clothes. His face is closed and full of
pain. I dont understand any of it either.
And then hes gone.



Arthur, Merlin begins when he finally comes home. Look. Im sorry. That was I shouldnt
have sounded so
Repelled? Arthur supplies silently. Horrified?
judgemental, Merlin finally says. He takes a deep breath. Im really sorry. Especially
because well, to be honest, theres stuff about me I havent told you yet, either. Secrets. I have
Arthur, I have a secret, a big one. And Im really hoping youll be, ah, considerably more
understanding than that when I finally find the balls to tell you. So. Um.
Arthurs mouth twitches. The tightness in his chest loosened the minute Merlin said sorry. Its
okay, Merlin. He wonders idly what someone as open and sunny as Merlin thinks of as a juicy
secret. His fathers identity, perhaps? Hes secretly Cliff Richards love child?
Its really not, he returns, serious. You deserve better than that from me. I know you well
enough to know that you must have good reasons for what you do.
Arthur manages a smile at that. Well. I hope so. I dont- I dont want to talk to him, Merlin-
I know that, God, he interrupts. You dont need to tell me that, Arthur. Ive seen what it does
to you, what it costs you each time you go there. And Arthur looks away.
Merlin crosses the room and takes Arthurs hand, tugs him toward the extremely crappy couch.
Come here, he husks, and tugs until theyre both sprawled on the couch, invading each others
space, breaths mingling. He kisses Arthur, slow and thorough. Dont say stupid things to me, he
whispers. Im the stupid one here, okay? That position is filled.
Arthur smiles against his mouth, involuntary. Hm, right, Arthur replies, knowing Merlin can
hear the disagreement in his tone.
Its not hard to admit Merlin is far smarter than he is, its been clear to him from the start but it
doesnt bother Arthur in the least. They have entirely disparate talents and interests and in his
hazier, more optimistic moments he thinks they could complement each other beautifully for all the
years to come. Then life crashes over him again.
They lie in silence for a while and finally Arthur says, I went to see him a few times when he first
went into the clinic, I was still hoping he would confess and they could close the cases. Give
Gwen some kind of apology. Like that would make any difference.
Arthur, you dont have to-
But he wouldnt admit it, Arthur went on, hearing the anger in his own voice, and I couldnt
keep- just, sitting there and listening to his garbage. So I. I stopped.
Merlin swallows, his hands stroking over Arthurs skin as he listens.
He warned me. He required my presence. He stops for a second, struggling for control. I
was at Sandhurst then, and he accepted my absences on that basis but whenever I was on leave,
he expected me to visit. I refused. He warned me, he said again that he would - take steps.
Merlins hand drifts down to toy with Arthurs watch. His cool fingers soothe the memory just
enough that he can say, There was a fire. One of the patients died.
Merlin freezes, eyes closing. Arthur, he breathes.
Of course, there was no fucking proof, he ground out. Again. I stormed down there to confront
him and he he smiled at me. Hes shaking at the memory, he realizes in sudden wonder, part
fury and part heavy guilt.
I was deployed to the Middle East a few weeks later. It was it wasnt an easy place to be but,
he shook his head, In a way - I was away from it all. I was glad.
I can imagine.
Whenever I was home on leave I always visited him once. It seemed safest. He doesnt
describe the impotent rage that fills him every time he walks through the doors of that place,
knowing that he is giving in, that Uther was still controlling him, even now.
You were protecting people, Merlin says. You still are. Its what you do, Arthur. Putting
everyone else ahead of what you want.
He gives an instinctive headshake, but Merlin goes on, fingers curling around Arthurs face. Im
proud of you, Arthur Fitzroy.
Arthur closes his eyes and stores that away for a rainy day. Merlin, he manages, you are
completely mental.


* * *


Arthur, Merlin begins and he freezes because nothing good ever comes of that deliberately
casual conversational tone. The atmosphere is already awkward enough, with Perceval dozing
upstairs in Lances room. Still, Merlin is surprisingly good at pretending hes not bothered by
Arthurs raging affair. He even supplies the lovebites that adorn Arthurs throat every time
Perceval sleeps over.
Merlin, he returns. And waits.
You said this was the third property for you.
Every inch of his body relaxes and he returns his attention to the spreadsheet. A cup of tea appears
at his elbow and he murmurs absent thanks, enters two more receipts and watches the total grow.
What did you do with the other two?
Hmm? Oh, uh, the first was a flat in Notting Hill, it was just cosmetic stuff really, new paint, new
floors and a bit of storage. Jesus, paint was expensive. The second one was a bloody monster of
a house, I got a bit more ambitious there. More than I was ready for, to be honest. Spent nearly a
year redoing it, bathrooms on every floor, couple of kitchenettes, good security system he trails
off and squints at a handwritten docket. Was that the timber for the stairs, or the butlers sink? And
how could those words possibly look similar in any way, unless the handwriting belonged to a
well-trained baboon?
No, I meant, what did you do with them. Sold them?
He stops again, turns his head toward Merlin without meeting his eyes. Theres that careful tone
again. Uh. He hesitates, Well, um, no the flat is um, a mate of mine is renting it, actually.
Merlin nods, encouraging, and slides the biscuits across the table. A mate. From the paras?
Y-yeah. He frowns. How did you-
Something Lance said, he replies easily. Hed been hurt, I think?
Arthur takes a biscuit. Yeah. He glances away, trying very hard not to picture anything at all.
Not to hear the sounds again. He hadnt been there that day, but there had been plenty of others
where he had. Watched too many medical evacs and known nothing would ever be the same for
those guys. He draws in a slow breath and says, Lost a leg, actually, to a roadside bomb.
Fuck.
Yeah.
Arthur eats the biscuit slowly. Elyans return home is all mixed up in Arthurs head with his own
fucked-up issues. It had been only two months after hed resigned his commission. He has a
much younger sister, he says slowly. Twelve year age gap. And he he was in the middle of
rehab, getting prosthetics fitted, all that, when his mother was diagnosed with cancer.
He hears Merlins sharp intake of breath. She was dead ten weeks later.
Fuck, he says again, low and heartfelt.
Arthur pushes his laptop away across the table and reaches for his tea.
So you offered him the flat.
Arthur shrugs. Id finished the work and put it on the market. The real estate agent kept harping
on about the amazing school just around the corner and how heaps of people would buy the place
just to get a foot in the door with the school. Everyone in the unit knew his sister was some kind
of genius, he never used to bloody shut up about her. I just thought-
He shrugs. Why shouldnt she get that kind of chance? Twelve years old. Shed had enough
shitty luck for a lifetime already, and Elyan was ripping his hair out trying to afford a place for two
on his pension, and hating himself because he couldnt keep her in her old school.
He lets his eyes wander around the kitchen while he remembers the seemingly endless arguments
with Elyan. Until hed brought first Lance and then, awkwardly, Leon on board to argue it for
him. And hadnt that been a fun phone call, talking to Leon for the first time since the apartment
fire and Arthurs sudden discharge. But theyd gotten past it, for Elyans sake.
Its not charity, its a helping hand she deserves the chance He still remembers his own,
desperate need to feel like he was doing something something good -after the mess of the past
year.
From the look on your face Im guessing you had to talk him into it, Merlin says. Stubborn
bunch, the paras, Ive observed.
I didnt need the fucking rent, he bursts out, oddly furious all over again. He sinks lower in his
chair, embarrassed, feeling Merlins eyes on him. When he finally glances up, those blue eyes are
smiling across the table at him.
Youre a good man, Arthur Fitzroy, he says, and pushes away from the table. The fingers that
run through his hair as Merlin leaves the room are rough, casual, and its a touch he feels all day.


* * *

Its just a kiss.
Should have been one of those swift, warm pecks people exchange as they pass by on their way
out. Lance and Arthur are meeting some of their old unit at a pub in town before theyre all
deployed again. But something prompts Arthur to deepen the kiss, to dive into Merlin.
Mmmfnh, Merlin hums against his lips. If this is Arthurs way of saying yes my ex-boyfriend
will be there but you dont have anything to worry about, he can totally get behind that. Then he
grins and pulls back. He huffs out a satisfied breath and the words emerge throatily, Dont start
something you cant finish, love.
Arthur opens his eyes slowly and Merlin has just enough time to realize that hes done something
to set Arthur off. Somewhere in the distance theres the sound of Lances ringtone.
Merlin, Arthur says, close to his ear. You shouldnt challenge me.
Theres a sound from the top floor, footsteps, then Lances voice floats down. Arthur? Its Kappa
again. You mind if I take this?
Go ahead, Im in no hurry, Arthur calls, eyes lighting up with purpose and Merlins knees give
just a little.
Arthur moves forward, implacable, and Merlin finds himself backed up against the staircase in
their narrow hallway, right into the corner, half-hidden from view.
Arthur, he says, curious and a bit warning.
Merlin, he returns, and leans in for another kiss, his body heavy against Merlins, hands slowly
tracing up, past hips, stomach and ribs until he reaches Merlins shoulders, cups his biceps and
urges them up, raised in a straight line, Arthurs hands dragging along the length of them until he
curls his fingers around Merlins wrists.
He lifts his head, their faces only an inch apart and Merlin is already breathing heavily.
Somewhere upstairs Lances voice can be heard periodically, his door isnt even closed and
Arthur clearly doesnt give a toss. Hes winding Merlins hands around the banister railings and
Merlin swallows. Arthurs large, work-roughened hands cover Merlins, press with a firm grip
until he understands hes not to let go.
Arthur-
Theres no response, instead Arthur leans in for another kiss, mouth opening over Merlins with
unmistakable intent. Its deep and slow and utterly erotic, the kind of kiss Arthur only gives when
hes already deep inside Merlin, moving slowly enough to drive them both out of their minds,
wringing the pleasure from both their bodies.
Merlin trembles and gasps against the heat of Arthurs mouth, sense memory of other kisses like
this taking him halfway there already and his hands tighten around the railings, managing a
heartfelt, Oh, fuck, as he recognizes Arthurs resolve. This isnt going to be some hasty, fumbled
toss.
Arthurs hands have travelled down his body as they kissed, and now hes freeing Merlin from his
jeans and underwear, moving so slowly Merlin shudders again. The contrast between the urgency
in his head here in the hallway, Lance is just upstairs and the deliberate movements of
Arthurs hands is doing things to him, stripping away any sense of control at the same time as it
takes him to the point where its impossible to do anything but want more more more, fuck give
me more.
When Arthurs fingers close around him he sighs in relief, hips straining forward on instinct but
Arthur doesnt stroke him, just leans in for another deep, filthy kiss and Merlin is gasping for
breath by the time it ends, Arthur, please.
Lances voice becomes louder, hes clearly wandering around his room, closer to the open
doorway as he speaks, and Merlin bites his lips as Arthur leans back, holds his gaze and drops to
his knees.
Oh thank Christ. His head drops forward, partly to watch and partly because he just cant seem to
hold it upright anymore, eyes drooping, breath coming in sharp pants. His fingers flex and tighten
around the railings, convulsive.
Yeah. Listen, mate, I was just heading out- Lances voice drops down the stairwell in the
unmistakable wind-up, and Merlin flinches, stares down at Arthur wanting it so badly, this is it,
hell take Merlin into his mouth and oh God, it wont take much-
Arthur, of course, the fucker, does no such thing.
A pale pink tongue emerges from his mouth, just one delicate flicker that dances across the head
of Merlins cock. Merlin gasps.
A trail of soft kisses down the side. A gentle, soft nip halfway down. The fingers of one hand
slowly stroking the underside of Merlins balls.
Hes playing.
As if theyve got all day, a rainy Sunday spent lolling about in creased sheets, fumbling lazily
together. Arthur licks a slow deliberate stripe along Merlins length as he lets out a sobbing breath,
so hard now and leaking, desperate, Arthur, he chokes out. Arthur, please.
He doesnt grin. Theres nothing remotely lighthearted in his eyes as he stares up at Merlin, but he
closes his eyes and parts his lips and Merlin sucks in a breath as that wet heat surrounds him, his
head falls back against the banister with a low thunk and he shoves a hand into Arthurs hair and
then, unbelievably, everything fucking stops.
He blinks stupidly at the newly-papered wall opposite, then glances down. Arthur has pulled
back, still kneeling at Merlins feet, hands clenched on his thighs. Theres space between their
bodies now, his eyes fixed on Merlins face, unmoving. Their eyes lock and Merlin remembers, a
second later, how this started.
You bastard, he breathes, and draws in a shuddering breath. He withdraws his hand, wraps it
around the banister again as Lances voice drifts down -just a few drinks with the lads, yeah, Ill
tell them- and Arthur leans forward, takes Merlins length into his mouth and this time theres real
suction, a reward, the prat, and Merlins eyes roll back in his head as his hands tighten, tighten
around the slender lengths of timber.
Arthur, he chokes out, everything forgiven if only hell, oh God please he needs this now,
doesnt care anymore about where they are or who might hear, only that it never stops, oh my- oh
fuck, oh God Arthur please dont stop, the harsh whisper just spills out of him and its happening,
the rise of heat washing through him and he sucks in a huge breath, oh God he wants to scream-
Yep. Tuesday, then, Lances voice is suddenly louder, hes on the top landing and Merlin turns
his head into his shoulder to hide his face, Arthurs mouth drawing the ecstasy out of him and the
low, harsh whine that breaks out of him is only partly muffled by his own skin as he comes,
comes endlessly, body one long shudder of absolute pleasure.
Hes shaking, hands still gripping the -something- above his head when he blinks back into the
world again, and Arthur is crowding against him, hands gentle as he settles Merlin. He unwinds
Merlins fingers from where theyve frozen into place on the railings, nose bumping against
Merlins cheek and then he turns his head and nuzzles, a hand coming down to stroke over
Merlins ribs, which is when he realizes hes breathing like hes run a bloody marathon, slumped
boneless against the wall.
Lances feet creak on the stairs above their heads and Merlins eyes fly to Arthur, who cups his
face, thumb stroking, a wordless its alright, and only then does Merlin realize hes decent again,
tucked back into his underwear and jeans and probably the only sign that anything happened here
is the colour in their faces, and the raging hard-on inside Arthurs jeans.
He glances down at it and raises an eyebrow as he meets Arthurs eyes. Serves you right, he
grinds out, throat still tight, and Arthur gives an odd grin. Its part rueful and part stupid
satisfaction and then he leans in to kiss Merlin again, gentle and loving this time, and Merlin wants
to hug him but honestly he doesnt have enough muscle control right now to raise his arms.
He stays where he is, slumped against the wall and lets his insanely hot boyfriend kiss him some
more, soaks up the small, soft strokes of Arthurs hands over his shoulders, his neck, gentling him
through the aftershocks that are still coursing through his body.
All right lads, Lance says easily from behind Arthur, dont start something you cant finish.
Chapter 14
Chapter Summary
They could be floating on a burning raft in a sea of molten lava and if Merlin smiled
at him like that, then the world was a good place and Arthur would grin back, like the
idiot he was.

Leaving Merlin in the hallway, flushed and soft with pleasure is one of the hardest things hes ever
done. He draws in a deep breath as they step into the garage, blinking against the sudden flare of
the fluorescent light and Arthur adjusts himself as inconspicuously as possible. Hes going to be
hard for half the night at this rate.
Totally worth it, though.
Lance, Arthur says suddenly, as that thought of Merlin flashes through his head and the usual,
low-level worry flares into something higher, Not a word about Merlin tonight, yeah?
Lancelot shrugs and yanks the Land Rover door open. Hes texting Gwen again, ugh, probably
closer to sexting and only half-listening.
I mean it, he says, and waits until their eyes meet. Not to anyone.
Yeah, fine, Lance says, with a one-shouldered shrug. He doesnt ask for an explanation.
Doesnt need one.
Arthur gives one sharp glance, satisfied. Then a small movement catches his eye and he glances
over to the connecting door and freezes.
Merlins face is pale, mouth set in an angry line. For a moment Arthur just goggles at him,
replaying what he just said and how it must have sounded.
You dropped your phone, Merlin says flatly, and tosses it across the car with a snap of his wrist.
Arthur moves to catch it automatically and by the time he looks up again Merlin is gone and the
door is slamming shut.
No, he has time to think, and bolts after him. But the connecting door is somehow stuck, it costs
him a precious few seconds before he can get it open, calling Merlins name through it like that
will somehow fix things. He finally kicks the fucking thing open, timber splintering, and
scrambles through the house, up the stairs, heart pounding and frantic and its only when he
reaches the top floor and Merlins not there that he realizes the house really is as empty as it feels.
He clatters back down the stairs again and out through the front door but Merlin is nowhere in
sight, hes wasted precious time searching the house and now he just feels sick.
He spins back, makes it as far as the garage where Lance is waiting, one hand braced on the car
roof. He takes one look at Arthurs face and says, Just drop me at the station. Ill crash with one
of the lads tonight.
Arthur doesnt even bother replying as he starts the car. He double parks outside the Tube station
and runs inside with Lance, on the off-chance Merlin is using that route to get away from Arthur.
When its a bust, he spends the next hour driving around the darkening streets, heart in his mouth.
He dials Merlins number twenty seven times, unsurprised when the calls are rejected, he calls
Gwen who doesnt answer and Gaius who hasnt spoken to Merlin since Friday.
Finally he gives up and heads home again, checks every room in the house just to be sure and then
ends up huddled in a heap halfway up the stairs. He wants to curl up in Merlins bed and breathe
in his scent but the way Merlin had looked at him he cant assume he has the right to do that any
more.
So he sits, and stares at the empty doorway of what used to be the second bedroom.
Its after midnight when he hears the door open and all the air leaves his lungs in a rush. He jumps
to his feet, about to fly down the stairs, then hesitates at the sound of Merlins footsteps, swift and
angry. The indecision leaves him caught with no real options, like an idiot, and so he sinks back
down on the stairs before his legs give out completely.
Its not how it seemed, is the first thing out of his mouth when Merlin finally appears on the
landing below.
For a long moment he thinks Merlin wont even speak to him, oh God Ive fucked it all up and his
guts are twisted in knots by the time that beautiful voice emerges.
Not how it seemed? Not how it- He cuts himself off and falls back against the wall, arms folded,
face harder than Merlins should ever be. One deep breath and he barrels on before Arthur can
speak.
Hmm. Well, it seemed to me as if you took the time to demonstrate your absolute mastery of me,
Merlin says, bitter and angry, by blowing me in the hallway of your house even though Lance
could have walked in on us at any minute. You wound me up until I was desperate and begging
you for it and then, not five minutes later, Arthur- his voice is sharp and shaking and he looks
away, swallowing, which is how Arthur knows that all of the anger is just covering up an ever
larger well of hurt.
You would have still had the taste of me on your fucking tongue. And there you were making
damn sure that no-one ever finds out that I even exist not your friends, and sure as hell not your
fucking ex-boyfriend. Thats how it seemed to me, Arthur.
Thats not what I was doing, he says, beseeching. Please understand. Thats not why I said it.
You honestly think theres a why that will make it okay? Its a cry of raw pain and Arthurs
throat closes over. Hed made Merlin sound like that.
Look, you dont really need to explain. I get it. Merlin glances away, head lifted as if staring
into the distance. His shoulders lift, folding in to protect himself. I dont fit into any part of your
life, Arthur. I didnt attend public school, his lips twist, somehow bitter and self-mocking.
I dont play polo, I didnt go to Oxford or Cambridge, and dont even try to deny that stuff
because even though youve never told me a single fucking detail about your life I can guess your
family history well enough to know I cant possibly meet the lofty standards of the circle you grew
up in.
Arthur just gapes at him, glad hes sitting down. Where the fuck had this come from? Of all the
things hes anticipated, he never pictured this one as an issue between them. Hes too stunned to
string together a reply and Merlin is forging ahead, arms wrapped around himself, defensive.
And then theres the other half of you, which once again Ive mostly fucking guessed. But sure
as hell Im no tough as nails paratrooper, unlike your mates, unlike your ex. I can barely manage
to climb the stairs unscathed., Im just the comic relief around here. I dont make sense in your life,
Arthur, we both know that. So lets just-
Dont make- are you completely fucking crazy?
Merlin just stares back at him, flat and hurt and grim.
You think- Arthur is only just starting to understand what the fuck Merlins saying. You think
Im ashamed of you?
He shrugs and looks away and the emotion that swamps Arthur is so bloody unexpected that for a
moment he honestly cant even speak. From shame and remorse to white hot rage in under three
seconds.
I- Arthur chokes. I could fucking kill you. You idiot. Ashamed? Of you? Merlin, youre the
only thing in my life I give a shit about, the only thing that makes sense to me, the only fucking
reason I get out of bed half the time. Ashamed of you?
Merlin is frozen on the spot, staring.
Arthur gets to his feet and stalks toward him. Hes never felt less like a lover, what he wants to do
mostly is to punch Merlins stupid face for thinking so little of himself, so little of Arthur, that a
stupid fucking concept like public school might have for one second, gotten in the way of a
miracle like Merlin being in his life.
He drags in a deep breath and reaches for control. Its no joke when someone with his training
loses their temper and so instead of grabbing Merlin he clenches his fists and leans in close.
Just so were clear, he grinds out, I dont give a flying fuck whether you ever went to school at
all, let alone where you went. I dont care if youre poor, if you dont know the correct protocol
for greeting a member of the royal fucking family, if youve never held a gun in your hands and
you cant throw a punch to save your stupid fucking life. I dont give a shit about any of that stuff,
I have never in my life cared about that and I never will. I love you for who you are, you absolute
tosser, not for where you come from.
Merlin is pale, staring, and clutching at the door frame when he speaks again. What. Wh-what
did you say?
Arthur takes a few deep breaths, still grappling with his temper. What?
Did you just- he pushes off the frame and takes a step forward, closing the gap between them.
The familiar scent of him reaches Arthur and relaxes something deep inside, something animal and
raw he doesnt usually acknowledge. Then Merlin says, wondering, You love me?
Its like being dipped in ice water and he jerks back. What?
You love me. This time, when Merlin says it, its not a question.
I.
Arthur stares at him, replays what he just said. Oh. Right. Yet another good reason why he tries so
hard to keep a grip on his temper. And while hes processing, Merlin is leaping miles ahead with
that intuition of his.
You love me. And you were never going to tell me, Merlin says, very calm, like its all rolling
out in front of him, finally making perfect sense. Which, perhaps it is. He knows Arthur better
than Arthur had ever intended to allow. Terrifyingly well.
And then Merlin smiles.
Its pure reflex. Arthur smiles back.
His plans, his emotions, his bloody life is in tatters around him, adrenaline and temper still
coursing through his body and at the very far back of his mind hes still sexually frustrated from
that little interlude in the hallway. And saturating everything is the instinctive fear thats consumed
him all night Ive lost him.
But Merlin is smiling, which means all is right with the world.
Arthur sighs a little, and lets go of that last little bit of resistance within himself. Hed been trying
so hard to hold it back, to pretend he hadnt crashed completely off the cliff. No point pretending
now.
They could be floating on a burning raft in a sea of molten lava and if Merlin smiled at him like
that, then the world was a good place and Arthur would grin back, like the idiot he was.
I think, Merlin says solemnly, hint of dimples giving it the lie, that we should perhaps kiss
now.
I suppose it is customary, Arthur allows, feeling his heart rate begin to slow, since clearly this
was neither a time for flight, nor fight.
Well, lets not buck tradition.
Arthur snorts a laugh. Yes, were both such sticklers for tradition.
When Merlin smiles, its against Arthurs lips. Are you somehow implying that my insanely hot
toffee-nosed ex-special forces boyfriend who renovates properties as some kind of one-man social
engineering project is not a traditional life choice for a working-class antiquary nut?



You said- my house.
What? Merlins voice is sleepy. The edge of one ear is visible in the light streaming in from the
street, through the small gap left by the old bedsheets hes tacked up for privacy. At some point
hes going to have to let Morgana loose on the unsuspecting house to do the window furnishings.
Its the one part of renovation Arthur cant abide.
You said, before, I blew you in the hallway of my house.
Mmm.
Its not- he licks his lips. Takes a breath. Its our house, not my house.
Merlins head lifts and he blinks at Arthur stupidly. Its a very long time before he even tries to
speak. I-
The confusion, the wonder on his face make Arthur smile and he relaxes back, content.
Arthur, he says, very soft, and Arthur runs his fingers over Merlins lips, feeling the words form.
I dont know what to- thats-
Sshhh, he says, and lets his eyes close. Theyre silent for a long time before he swallows and
says, Merlin about my unit. The guys tonight.
The skin beneath his hand tenses and then he feels Merlin relax deliberately.
They were the only ones who knew about Leon, he manages to say. That he and I were
together.
Merlin raises himself up on one arm and he opens his eyes to find blue eyes blinking at him, still
not understanding.
The night Leons apartment was torched the information had to come from one of them.
He hears Merlins sharp intake of breath but he cant look, hes gazing down at his hands now,
still finding it so hard to say the words. I didnt want to believe it still dont want to believe it,
but- he took a quick, gasping breath, its the only thing that makes sense and I dont know
which of them, I dont know who- but I- and now he glances up into those blue, blue eyes and it
all comes out in a rush, I cant risk you like that Merlin, I cant ever live with that fear for you, I
cant.
Shit, Merlin whispers helplessly, Arthur.
They were my unit, Merlin, he manages to choke out. And somehow Merlin understands what
that means to a soldier, to a paratrooper. They were all I had.
Oh, Arthur.
Im not ashamed of you, Merlin, I could never be-
Shh, Merlin murmurs, arms wrapping around Arthur. Thats enough. I understand, love. Let it
go.
Theres silence for a long time, the mood slowly shifting into mellow and Arthurs eyes are finally
closing when Merlin says, Can I say something?
Mff, Arthur snuffles, meaning, yes, you idiot.
If this is our house
He cracks an eye to watch Merlins face, sees the way he slows down to taste the words as he
says our house, and the quick breath to gather courage before he blurts, When is the main
bathroom going to be finished?
Arthur snorts involuntarily. Wow. That didnt take long, princess. Possessive much? But he
doesnt even try to hide the warm glow from seeing how quickly Merlin slots straight into the
sharing a home headspace, and lets his eyes half-close instead.
Well, Im confused, he frowns at Arthur across the pillow. Youve practically killed yourself to
finish every other room in this place, but the main bathroom is somehow going on for months.
Its a process, he slurs into the pillow. Theres structural stuff. Dont worry your pretty head
about it, Merlin.
Twat, Merlin mumbles back, his head a comforting weight at Arthurs shoulder. His voice gets
softer and slower. And I am not a princess.
They drift off to sleep in one anothers arms, and when Arthur blinks his eyes open in the slowly-
growing daylight, hes bemused. From the immaculate state of the bed, neither one of them has so
much as moved all night.
The bone-deep contentment remains, and he stays as he is, locked in Merlins arms as the light
grows. When he finally feels Merlin stir he tilts his head just enough to watch him awaken, that
same slow stretch hed watched the first morning, and it gets him, right in the gut, just like it did
the first time.
Morning, Merlin mumbles, and Arthur lifts a hand to stroke his face, his cheekbone, ears.
Everything feels new and somehow trembling. I love him, he thinks deliberately, for the first time,
and his hand shakes a little, at having something so precious, something to lose. He takes a breath.
Morning.
He drops a soft kiss to the hand on his chest and gets that first, sleepy Merlin-smile of the day. It
draws his own smile to the surface, unbidden. They lie in silence for a while before Arthur sighs
and drags himself out of bed. Tea? he asks.
Merlin nods, still stretching, and Arthur stumbles out of the bedroom before he can pin the other
man down and start something neither of them is ready for. He takes a leak, washes his face
without looking himself in the eyes in the mirror and staggers downstairs to make tea. For some
reason his thoughts turn dark the minute hes away from Merlin, standing there in the half-finished
kitchen, staring out the window at the garden as the wind whips the trees into a fury.
He makes the tea on autopilot and brings it back upstairs. Merlin looks more awake, sitting cross-
legged on the comforter, fringe slightly damp from his own visit to the bathroom. Perhaps its the
way it makes him look younger, more vulnerable. Or perhaps its a sign of how completely raw
they both are that Arthur just says it.
I could kill him. Its conversational, and hes not so far gone that he doesnt understand thats a
Bad Sign. Killing someone should never be a calm topic of conversation. But.
Merlin lifts his head, eyes wide and confused as his hands close around the mug. One look at
Arthurs face and he understands who theyre talking about.
I think about it, he admits, lets his body sag against the window frame while Merlin is still
processing. Then squints up at the ceiling. Actually. I have thought about it. A lot. Pretty much
every time Im due to visit him.
Arthur, he breathes. No.
It would be so easy. He still cant look at Merlin, leans back to peer out the window instead. A
sheet of crumpled newspaper dances down the street on cold winds and he tracks it all the way out
of sight. I mean, Ive killed people before, in the Army. Its not like Id even need a weapon,
thanks to my training. The world would be a better place without him in it. Now, finally, he turns
his head and looks into those wide blue eyes and the deepest truth just bubbles to the surface.
Youd be safe.
You cant, Merlin murmurs, but hes moving closer, not away, not scared as though Arthur is
something ugly. Even though he knows deep inside that Merlins wrong, that part of him is ugly.
Arthur, you mustnt. He scans Arthurs face, clearly not satisfied with what he sees and tries
another track. Youd end up in prison. Your whole life would be ruined, on the off chance that
he might come after me.
Id do anything to keep you safe, he murmurs, avoiding the promise he knows Merlin wants to
hear. He steps forward and brings up a hand to cup Merlins cheek, thumb tracing the shape of
those ridiculous ears. God, how he loves them.
Not that, Arthur. Merlin shoves his tea onto the nightstand.
I know, he says, and pulls his hand back. What kind of monster wants to kill their own father?
Thats not what I meant, Merlin says, catching his retreating hand. Come here. Look at me.
He stays silent until Arthur complies, finally draws him down onto the bed and then climbs all
over him, hands stroking and soothing and his face full of pain and worry. Youre not a monster.
What kind of idiot thought process led you to that?
Its not natural, Arthur mumbles. To wish your father dead. To want to do it.
Theres a gentle breath. Arthur, he says gently, hes the unnatural one. Hes the one thats
destroyed the natural order of things. Hes the monster, and its only natural for someone as
protective as you to want to take care of the threat. But you cant do it that way, love.
I could, Arthur thinks, mulish.
It would hurt you, Merlin says simply, and Arthurs gaze flies up to meet his. Youd hate
yourself, after. No matter how justified you felt, youd be sorry afterwards, Arthur. His hands
tighten and he leans in close. Please promise me you wont ever do that. Not in cold blood.
Thats thats why youre saying dont?
Merlin blinks at him. Yes. Why?
I thought you I thought youd be disgusted that I even thought of it.
His eyebrows flick up for just an instant but Arthur can see in that glimpse a far older, wiser
Merlin than he usually sees. You thought Id be too delicate for the idea of killing? You dont
think Ive sometimes felt like he deserves to be wiped from the face of the earth for all the ways
hes hurt you, or for what he did to Gwen?
You wouldnt, Arthur whispers. Youd never.
Kill someone? Merlins face stills and he glances away. I dont know. Ive never had to ask
myself the question. But honestly? I think I could if I had to. He takes a long slow breath, then
another, and turns back. Their eyes lock and he says, very softly, I could kill for you. To protect
you, Arthur. I do know that.
And looking into those blue eyes, Arthur absolutely believes him.
He takes another shaky breath and looks away, something hot inside his chest at the thought.
Thats not its not supposed to. Hes the soldier, the one whos supposed to protect-
What if Im like him? he chokes it out.
What?
I want to kill him, Merlin. He takes a slow, controlled breath. I mean, some part of me really
wants to. Ive I dream about it, sometimes. In detail.
Merlin stares at him, uncomprehending.
He swallows hard and turns his face away. Thats not normal. His voice is shaking when he
forces it out, What if this is the start? What if I go insane like my father-
Arthur Fitzroy- Merlin says, and he sounds more furious that Arthur has ever heard him, which
is saying something.
My mother, he hastens to say, and its probably the only thing that could have derailed Merlins
rage.
He takes an unsteady breath before he grinds out, What about your mother?
She was wonderful, by all accounts.
Yes, Merlin is hesitating, temper abating. Gaius said.
Loving. Smart. Funny. A real catch, my uncle used to say.
Yes, Merlin murmurs, like you, I imagine.
But she married him. he glances up, sees that Merlin doesnt get it. He cant have always been
mad, Merlin. He was charming enough, smart enough, normal enough to attract my mother.
Now theres comprehension on Merlins face. And you think thats you. A slow blink. You
think thats us.
I dont know, he says it helplessly, but what else can he do? How the hell can he ever know
hes not that fucking rotten apple that doesnt fall far from the tree? Hes charismatic. He can
seem- normal, sometimes. Most of the time. How do I know that this isnt-
I know, Merlin says, controlled and utterly sure.
No you dont, Merlin. You want me to be all right, thats not the same as-
Arthur, I know.
He stops arguing. Tries for the smile he knows Merlin wants to see, and lets himself come to rest
against the other mans chest. The sense of comfort is familiar, the scent as welcome as ever. But
beneath it all, like a raging river, is the doubt, and the deep, aching fear. A fear that stretches back
as far as childhood.
Hes never said he loves me.


Chapter 15
Chapter Summary
Arthur takes the suggestion about as badly as theyd predicted. Which is to say, hed
gone white and cold and furiously quiet in a way Merlin sincerely hopes hell never
see again.
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes

They finally God, what were they waiting for? - move Lances stuff to Gwens place on a rainy
Tuesday afternoon and leave them beaming at one another in her tiny flat. Then they arrive home,
and Merlin is privy to one of the most excruciating conversations of his entire life. And that was
just Arthurs half.
I cannot believe I am discussing my sex life with Scotland Yard, Arthur mumbles, head in his
hands, when its all over.
Merlin opens his mouth, then closes it. Theres really nothing he can say.
The DI wants to meet you, he continues, without looking up.
Oh.
Yep, he still has nothing to say. Will would be amazed.

* * *

Arthur sends a text already at the pub by the time Merlin leaves work, so he heads straight there,
trying not to get any more tense than he has been all day. Right now his neck feels like steel cable
from the combination of incredible tension, and the need to act like Nothing Is Wrong Or At All
Different, just in case someone is watching. How has Arthur lived like this?
He pushes through the door and into the pub, marveling at how much things have changed in his
own life since he was last there. He spots Arthur at the same table, and this time he gets a good
look at the man from the Met. Because honestly? The sight of Arthur and Perceval eye-fucking
across the bar had seared pretty much everything else right out of Merlins brain.
As he approaches the table the DI looks up oh, hello and Merlin can feel his polite smile
widen into a grin, cant for the life of him rein in the cheekiness.
Merlin, Arthur says as he slides into the vacant chair. His tone is careful and slightly chiding,
which probably means hes seen that look on Merlins face before. This is Greg.
Inspector, Merlin says softly, still smiling, and holds the mans hand a trifle too long as they
shake. Arthur stiffens. Its a pleasure. He slides his chair a little closer to the DI and tilts his
head.
The older mans eyebrow flicks up for a half-second. Then he speaks, and his voice is whisky-
rough, Its, uh, yes, but you really need to call me-
Greg, yes I know, Merlin says, and glances at Arthur for a half-second. As the man reaches for
his beer he mouths, Lestrade, at Arthur, eyebrows raised suggestively. Greg half-chokes and
Merlin smiles innocently. Sorry. Old joke.
Arthur looks like he swallowed a lemon. Greg glances sideways at him and relaxes a moment
later, as if hes guessed at least part of the joke. No apologies necessary, Merlin, he says easily.
Im a bit of a fan myself.
Are you, Merlin says, and leans in, flirting shamelessly. It cant hurt the public image theyre
building, right? And surely Arthurs aware by now just what a little bugger he can be.
Gregs smile widens again and he scratches the back of his neck, nonplussed but hiding it pretty
well. Hes taking the flirting in his stride for a decidedly straight man, and Merlin feels the tension
in his chest unwind just a little. Its a snap decision, sure, but he trusts the man. Believes hes
genuinely trying to help Arthur.
Uh, Percevals arrived, Greg says a moment later, which doesnt improve Arthurs mood any.
But he takes a deep breath and collects his beer, muttering Behave yourself, Merlin, as he strides
off to the bar for some fake flirting of his own.
Theres a moment of silence and then Merlin says softly, Are you going to get him?
The DI gives him a long, considering look. He doesnt seem at all surprised by the shift in topic
or Merlins sudden focus. I certainly intend to.
But you cant do this forever, right? He inclines his head toward the bar. The Met wouldnt pay
one of their officers to tend bar for long.
Correct, Greg says, and hes watching Merlin thoughtfully. Seconds tick by in silence and then
he seems to come to a decision. I believe, he says carefully, I believe we should escalate the
situation.
Merlin drops his eyes to the table. Escalate how?
Again, he hesitates. The last time Arthur stopped his regular visits
Merlin nods thoughtfully. Neither of them speaks for a good minute and then he offers, Good
luck convincing Arthur.
He smiles, rueful. Actually, I was wondering if youd be any help with that.
He shrugs, appreciating the honest approach. I can try. He bites his lip, remembering the look
on Arthurs face when he said if anything ever happened to you Honestly? he meets Gregs
eyes, The best help I could probably give you would be to leave the country for a month or so.
Hes extremely concerned. And his default setting is overprotective, so-
To tell you the truth, Merlin, Id feel better if you did.
Their eyes meet, and Merlin swallows hard at the level look Greg gives him. Its one thing to hear
Arthurs concern, know its based in emotion and guilt. This is this is a professional opinion, that
Merlin might be in real danger. Mums going to kill me if she ever finds out about this.
I want to get actual evidence on this guy. Badly. But Im not interested in sacrificing anyone to
do it. Now I really believe the only way well get him is to force him to move, to make a
mistake. And Arthur is the only leverage we have. He wont harm Arthur, Im sure of that. Its the
people around him that would be at risk.
And thats why hell never agree to it.
Greg shrugs, acknowledging the truth of that.
Theres a long silence, and finally Merlin sighs. Ill talk to him. Ill try. He chews at his bottom
lip. And Ill. Ill go away. The words taste bitter in his mouth, but. Its the only kind of peace of
mind he can offer Arthur. Ill go visit my Mum. He glances over at Arthur, the tense shoulders
and sighs again, Or maybe Will. Hed promised, after all.
Ill leave. I wont make you carry that.
Whatever other lies hes told Arthur is still telling hed meant what he said that day.



Arthur takes the suggestion about as badly as theyd predicted. Which is to say, hed gone white
and cold and furiously quiet in a way Merlin sincerely hopes hell never see again.
You cannot be serious, he says again, biting out the words.
We cant just let this situation keep going the way it has for years, Greg tries for calm reason.
Arthur, as things stand, he holds all the cards. We change the game, make him react to us-
Yes because that went so well the last time-
We werent ready for him the last time, Arthur. This time we will be. I can put security on Gwen
and Morgana, since Uther already knows about them. Your other friends are deploying in a few
days, theyre effectively hidden from your father once theyre overseas. If Merlin moves out, he
should be off Uthers radar, but just in case hes not, hes going to leave the country for a while.
Theres absolutely no way your fathers reach can extend beyond borders, especially when he has
no good reason to focus on Merlin in the first place. And most important of all, Arthur- he leans
in, catching his eye, every single person involved knows exactly how dangerous Uther is. He
wont catch us off-guard again.
You dont know him, Arthur says, and turns away.
Arthur, please, Merlin says softly. Please consider it.
All they get is his back. Hands on his hips, intractable rage in every line of his body.

* * *

This is never going to be over. Arthur is staring at the TV, morose. He handles his dates with
Perceval even worse than Merlin, always low and angry and guilty for hours after. It helps, in a
way, Merlin can hardly be jealous when Arthur so clearly hates all of it.
Of course it will, Merlin says quietly, safely perched on the edge of an armchair. They cant
even sit together because the window leaves them visible from the street and Greg insists they
spend at least some time with the curtains open, the way they used to. These are the moments that
bring Arthur to the edge of frustration, when Uthers presence invades their home, invisible but
undeniable. Well find a way.
Right. His head falls back against the couch. A way where I have to ignore you when were in
public, and make out with a fucking stranger-
Dont go.
Arthur looks at him.
Next week. Dont go to see him. And Merlin draws a deep breath. He hadnt planned on saying
it. Arthurs reaction to Gregs suggestion had left a searing impression.
Arthur freezes. You cant mean that.
Gaius has a friend with a flat in Kensington. Shes going away for a month, and Im going to
house-sit for her. He licks his lips, nervous. He hadnt been sure he was going to do it, not until
hed seen the despondent look on Arthurs face tonight. Ill go to Wills for a week or so, and
then I wont come back here, Ill be somewhere hes never heard of, cant trace.
You cant possibly be-
Arthur. We cant keep on playing his game. You said yourself you dont want to-
What I want doesnt matter, Merlin, he snaps. Im not going to put people in danger just
because I dont like being in my fathers company.
Its not about your feelings, Arthur, he shoots back, because he hates it when Arthur says what I
want doesnt matter, its about finishing this. Its not just you and me, either. What about Gwen?
And Morgana? You dont think this lives inside them, the same way it does for you? He takes a
deep breath and pushes on, Weve got the police with us, people we trust, who know whats
going on and are ready to protect us. This is the time, Arthur.
Arthur, he he bolts from the room without a word.
Merlin sits there, stunned, cursing himself, then follows more slowly, through the hallway and into
the kitchen.
Arthur is in the garden, pacing. After a while Merlin sees theres a rhythm to it, thinks its
something from the paras, something safe that he knows. He leans against the back door frame,
feeling the cool night air on his face. He waits.
Its probably twenty minutes before Arthur turns back toward the house. He sees Merlin waiting
there and hesitates. Finally he approaches, sinks down onto the old timber bench and lets his head
thud back against the wall. He looks old and tired and fragile, something Merlin's never seen
before and it twists something in his chest. Arthur finds the strength to bear everything life throws
at him - except when he can't protect the people he loves.
I hadnt thought about it that way, he finally says. That Gwen and Morgana might might
want this to be over, too. They never mention him, and I thought- Theyre probably trying to
forget.
Merlin thinks about the incandescent rage on Morganas face when Arthur had mentioned his
visits, the way Gwen goes soft and silent whenever fathers are mentioned. Maybe we should
ask them, he offers.
Arthur swallows. Then nods. Its just. Merlin. I dont think I can do that. Live with that.
Merlin sinks slowly down onto the bench beside him. He has to get this right. Arthur. When you
were in the paras, you had to let others take risks for you, yeah? Lance and the others? You all
worked together as a team, right? And sometimes it was them running in front of bullets or
whatever. Not you.
He draws in a shaky breath and doesnt answer.
We may not be soldiers, Arthur, but we all know exactly whats at stake, exactly what the risks
are. And we all have good reasons for wanting this thing to be over. So if Morgana and Gwen and
I want to try the DIs plan cant you trust us to be careful? To be smart?
Arthur leans forward, arms braced on his knees. Hes shaking. I dont. I dont know.
I promise you, Arthur, he slides forward, drops to his knees in front of Arthur, faces close
together, I swear Arthur, I am so very very motivated to be careful. To know that this is finished,
that youre free, that were free, that Gwen can get some kind of closure to never have to see
that look on your face again when you come back from there, to God, just to hold your hand
when we walk down the street-
Arthurs eyes close.
Ill do everything Greg suggests, Ill do anything you want thatll make you feel like Im safer.
We can do this.

* * *

Merlin, Arthur husks, and collapses forward, onto Merlin, who is already slumped over the
coffee table, shivering in a post-orgasmic haze. Oh, Christ. He places an open-mouthed kiss on
the nape of his neck and soaks up the rough moan it evokes.
Wow, Merlin pants, holy crap, just. He drags in a huge breath, apparently just for the purpose
of saying again, Wow.
And for just that moment, everything feels all right. As it should be. Together.
It doesnt take long for reality to intrude. For one thing, theyre in a strangers apartment. Arthur
dumps the condom in the bin and scowls at the living room and the private park visible through
the window. He fucking hates Kensington.
Merlin pushes off the table and sprawls across the floor, utterly unselfconscious despite the fact
that his trousers are bunched around his knees. Good God, he says, and huffs out a breath.
Thats one hell of a solution for a tension headache.
Thats one hell of a solution for a tension headache.
One corner of Arthurs mouth curls up. But the feeling cant last, and finally he does up his jeans
and falls onto the couch, sullen. He stares up at the ceiling. Its been three weeks. His hands
twitch with the effort it takes not to shove Merlin into a car and drive him to Budapest. Or
Shanghai. Or Hell. Anywhere Arthur knows hed be safe.
I know. That, at least, gets Merlin sitting up and righting his own clothing. His face is blank, too
calm. Arthur knows hes working so hard to show no fear, no concern for his own safety, for how
long this is taking, for the way Uthers not making a move at all. Hes determined therell be
nothing else to weigh Arthur down, and Arthur loves him for it at the same time as it makes him
want to scream. A little bit.
Hes done nothing.
I know.
Theres silence, swollen with all the things they arent saying. Dragon strolls into the room, tail
flicking in disdain at all the noise theyd just been making.
Mums enjoying her Greek getaway, Merlin offers as he rubs an absent knuckle over Dragons
scarred face.
Arthur doesnt even respond to that one. Hunith had no idea why she was out of the country, of
course. The fight over why Merlin shouldnt go with her and just stay there until it was all over
had been a doozy. Itll just draw attention to me, Arthur, hed yelled, and Greg had made the
massive mistake of agreeing dont give him a reason to look at Merlin.
He still hasnt patched the hole in the living room wall.
Percevals dangling there like a big fat fish on a hook. Arthur lets his head drop into his hands.
Hes spending nights at the house, we go out for fucking dinner and a movie like some longtime
married couple - why hasnt he made a move?
Merlin crawls across the floor and comes to a stop in front of Arthur, hands on his knees. I dont
know. Arthur-
He knows.
He cant know. Merlin hesitates. Perhaps he cant do anything. Perhaps his co-conspirator has
left, or died, or given up.
And perhaps the genie will turn me into a prince for real this time, and give me a magic kingdom
of my own- he stops himself on Merlins quiet sigh.
He lets his head drop forward, further, runs his hands through his hair and clutches. Merlins
hands come up to cover his a half-second later, lips touching the shell of Arthurs ear as he says,
Hes got no reason to come looking for me. Im safe.
But what if youre not?
Arthur cant stop the shudder that runs through him, but he says nothing, and Merlin doesnt
either. Theres nothing either of them can say to change this. Theyve started down this path and
its a one-way trip for all of them.



Hello? The querulous voice drifts up the staircase, just a touch of urgency. Is anyone there?
Hi, Merlin calls back automatically, slowing down as he nears the corner. He runs through his
routine the OCD is newly acquired courtesy of Arthur and Detective Inspector Cutie. He
touches the phone from the police in his shirt pocket, his own phone in the back pocket of his
jeans and pulls up the zip on his hoodie. Then he slides his free hand into his pocket to grasp his
keys, just in case, and tightens his grip on the milk hes taking in to work.
He takes one step forward and leans over the staircase railing, peering down theres an older
man standing in the middle of the common foyer, on the ground floor. The face is unfamiliar and
he relaxes just slightly. You all right, mate?
Not really, look, do you know Mr Diggs from number thirty-two?
Sorry, no, um, Im new, dont know anyone really. Its not the kind of building where you run
into people too often, which had made Arthur and Greg relax just slightly. The less new faces, the
better, at the moment. Four weeks since Arthur stopped his visits to Uther, and nothings
happened yet. Theyre all tense.
Oh. Well, its just that theres a bit of a fracas out the back here, in the lane, and Diggs is the only
one in the building that I know with a pet. Someones old cat has eaten some poison. Poor old
thing, his face is already a mess-
Merlin barrels down the stairs like the hounds of hell are after him. Dragon- He can hear the
sounds of a cat in distress as he flings himself past the older man and out the back door.
And then he just stops. The lane is empty. Theres no people, no poison and most definitely, no
injured cat. Just a cardboard box full of pissed-off feline. The door slams shut behind him and hes
an idiot. A colossal, fucking-
So youre the current distraction. The voice is deep and controlled and would probably sound
lovely reading an audiobook. Theres no real reason for it to have Merlins gut clenching, other
than animal instinct. The man is all wrong.
I must say, I fail to see the draw.
He turns slowly, keys falling from his hand to the pavement. He reaches up to tug weakly on the
zipper of his hoodie.
Arthurs father is standing beside a stack of boxes its how Merlin missed seeing him and at
the exact moment Uther steps forward Merlin realizes the van in the loading zone two doors down
is parked with the engine running.
Thats bad.
His eyes search frantically for a weapon, something, anything, but all he has is the carton of milk
in his hands which he immediately flings toward Uther. Perhaps the distraction will be enough-
Theres a wash of gold across his eyes that comes far too late as something heavy smashes into the
side of his skull.

Chapter End Notes
Nearly there, people. Thanks to everyone who has hung in there, and I hope the
ending is worth the wait. I can't tell you how much I love knowing people are reading
my words and being moved by them.
Chapter 16
Chapter Summary
This is panic, a calm voice says in the back of his head. Its not helping.

Arthur is pacing the grounds of yet another neglected house when his police-issued phone rings.
He snatches at it as though its set to explode on the third ring.
Yes, he says, holding up a hand to the estate agent in a half-apology.
Arthur, Greg says, and the overly controlled sound of his voice has his guts twisting
immediately.
What?
Your fathers escaped, he says heavily, and rushes on, at least three hours ago. Possibly longer.
Weve got units on the way to your house, Ive placed an officer with Gwen at her hotel and
called your cousin to warn her. Were going through security footage now to find out if he has
access to a vehicle.
Arthurs knees have given way, he blinks and finds himself leaning against the garden wall.
Theres only one person he hasnt mentioned. Merlin.
He can actually hear Greg swallow. Oh fuck. Hes not answering either phone as yet, weve got
units in the area on the w-
He hangs up the phone and starts running. Hes idling at a red light the next time hes aware of
having a rational thought, and its enough for him to pull over hastily, blocking the intersection but
hes far, far past caring about that.
Have a backup for your backup.
He hadnt even had to ask. The police had given Merlin a second phone, theyd set up
surveillance around Albion Antiques and the Kensington flat, hed gone to Switzerland, for
Christs sake, and still, when Arthur had held out the tiny GPS beacon, Merlin had simply taken it
and hooked it onto the zipper of his favourite hoodie. I promise, hed said.
And Arthur believed.
Ill be careful, Arthur, hed said, all those weeks ago.
Please, he can hear his own ragged voice in the silence of the car, please please please please
please, he stares down at his phone, hand clenching hard as he waits, waits, angry horns
sounding from the cars lined up behind him, pleasepleaseplease Merlin, and sucks in a huge
breath of air, Oh fuck, at getting a result. His vision goes black for a moment and then he pulls it
together, draws on every discipline the paras ever taught him to get himself focused, to make a
plan.
He throws the Land Rover into gear and speeds toward the motorway. Its not until hes already
on it that he realizes where this road leads. Its another bitter trip down memory lane, but for once
in his life theres some luck involved hes only forty minutes away.



When Merlin opens his eyes hes jolting around the back of a van, hands and feet bound tightly
with overly sturdy cord. He swallows twice - once for the dryness and the second time for the
heart thats currently lodged in his throat. Fuck. Oh, fuck, this is very, very bad.
Arthur will Arthur will completely lose it. Merlin closes his eyes and tries to figure out how the
hell to make this right, to save himself before its too late. If only he could channel Harry bloody
Potter and decide on something magical, fucking Reducto! or some kind of action that might help.
But instead hes just lying here, glancing frantically around the empty back of the van, struggling
against his bonds until his hands and feet are numb.
This is panic, a calm voice says in the back of his head. Its not helping.
He drags in a deep breath and focuses on thoughts of his Mum, instead of Arthur. He cant bear to
think about Arthur right now, about how hell blame himself if-
Calm down, love, he can almost hear Huniths voice. The way she used to when he first started
doing paranormal things. Calm down, and think.
The van halts, engine still running and he realizes there are voices coming from the front. Uthers
not working alone, then. The old man in the lane Right. Thats, well it makes things worse.
Shit. But it does explain how Uther had knocked Merlin out from three yards away. And on the
heels of that thought he becomes aware of a savage throb down the right side of his head. Theres
blood drying on the side of his face.
A door opens and shuts, and then the van begins rolling again. Uther just what? dropped
somebody off? Insano kidnappers who also stop for pizza?
They drive for about another minute, possibly two, by which time Merlin has established theres
absolutely nothing left in the back of the van he can use. Either Uther and his accomplice are
extremely domestic, or they carefully cleared it after seeing Merlin use magic. Because hes fairly
sure that he levitated a pile of rubbish at Uthers head, right before they knocked him out.
They roll to a halt and the rear doors fling open ten seconds later. Merlin blinks against the
daylight and feels his magic flare to life anyway, thank God it doesnt seem to require him to plan
anything or, apparently, require a physical weapon the way hed always assumed. Uther
stumbles back against the shove that surges out of Merlin, a startled yell coming from his throat
and Merlin flings himself toward the doors. He thuds to the ground with a jolt and searches
frantically for anything to cut the bindings on his legs, rolls and rolls as far as he can, still
searching, until he slams up against something and gasps in pain. He screams for help, just in case
anyone is nearby, but the little he can see doesnt give him much hope there.
Hes scrabbling upright against the wall, trying not to panic when he sees the black marks on his
clothes, his hands. The house, the whatever it is, its a burnt-out shell. Window frames are empty,
part-walls collapsed inside the framework, and oh God this has to be one of Uthers former-
His head explodes in pain again and everything goes black for the second time.



Merlin, he hears Arthurs voice before he sees him and its hardly possible he can be so
devastated and so relieved, at the same time. I dont want him to see this married tightly with hes
here hes here HES HERE.
He looks up in the direction of that voice even though it hurts his head to move, trying to convey
regret and sorrow and love in the one long glance. He cant seem to remember how to get air into
his lungs, and the look of terrified rage on Arthurs face doesnt help one bit. His vision blurs, the
concussion probably not helped by the sudden surge of tears.
Merlins thoughts are scrambling and he cant seem to shake off the image of that building - a
place where someone else died screaming at Uthers hands. Not when the only other image
available is the wreck in which hes standing. An abandoned theatre of some kind, weirdly
enough, small in size but complete with balconies and opera boxes. Arthur is pacing along one of
the balconies to the left, stair access destroyed by time, or possibly Uther, who waits in the wings,
on the right. And Merlin is centre-stage, ready for his big death scene.
He performed magic, son, Uther says, voice urgent and excited and triumphant all at once. I
should have considered it, should have realized they might target you in this way. Hes using you,
positioning himself to get close enough to strike you down.
Father, Arthur says, and the sick sorrow in his voice brings fresh tears to Merlins eyes. Oh fuck,
what a mess. For once in his life Uther is right, and Merlin is the proof that hes not quite as
entirely mad as his son believes. At least now he knows now where Arthurs loathing of the
paranormal comes from.
He rolls his head to one side, carefully hiding the blood trickling from his right temple from
Arthurs gaze and praying that the cops are on their way, that this will somehow come out okay
for one of them, at least. Hes kind of given up hope for himself.
Hes firmly lashed to a huge, heavy beam, and hes standing on top of a pile of firewood soaked
in petrol. Uther is smoking casually nearby, kicking the empty fuel cans to the side.
Its pretty much the textbook illustration for fucked.
Still, when his eyes land on Arthur he feels, just for half a second, better.
Oh, he is so gone. Crazy in love, if he can feel brighter and warmer on any level, in a situation like
this. I should have told him. He should have heard me say I love you.
Or perhaps this was the plan instead, Uther is saying, and his voice is arctic. Something rather
more subtle and insidious. To turn you against me. Have your loyalties diverted from their natural
path to someone undeserving. It surprises me that the only loyalty I can count on is from a
virtual stranger, someone far less worthy than my own flesh and blood.
He hesitates, turns his head and Merlin sees clearly for the first time the bloody scratches down
one side of Uthers face and neck. How- and a second later Merlin thinks oh, of course. Dragon.
He very nearly smiles as Uther asks, Where is Geoffrey, by the way?
I took care of him, Arthur says, lethally calm. He wont be coming to help you.
Uther just nods and turns his gaze back to Merlin, who struggles frantically against the ropes,
biting back panic under those eyes, eyes that make him feel like a fucking science experiment.
Trapped under glass, or watching the scalpel approach. He can feel the anger drain out of Arthur
in an instant at having to watch this, pain surging across his face instead.
Please. Sire, Arthur says, voice deep and strong through the pain and Merlin starts, realizing all
at once that this is a learned behavior, ingrained, that Arthur doesnt mean sire as in father, but as
in, my lord.
Uther responds with a slow, considered turn of the head and its like a quick glimpse into Arthurs
childhood. The father that should have nurtured him, built him up to understand how special and
wonderful he is, and instead
Sire. Creating distance instead of intimacy. Position before family. Responsibility instead of
affection. You bastard, Merlin thinks, struggling harder, oh you complete and utter bastard.
Please. Sire. Father. Im begging you. Please dont kill him.
Uther hesitates and lifts his eyes to the balcony and Arthur, on his knees now. Merlin bites his lip
at the raw pain in that voice.
Ill come with you. Now. Everything will be just the way you wanted. Ill never see him again,
Ill never- his breath hitches for a half-second, -never even speak his name. Ill come with you
and youll teach me all of the things you wanted me to know, now that I understand. Ill stay
with you and never leave, I swear it. Just just come with me now and leave him.
I cannot shirk my duty, Uther says, unyielding. I had thought you were made of the same stuff,
Arthur. I had thought you understood-
It was Ygraines choice, Merlin says, his words dropping into the conversation like an anvil.
Both men flip toward him involuntarily, but he keeps his eyes on Uther. Doesnt want to see the
pain on Arthurs face anymore.
Uthers face is rigid, mingled pain and fury. You dare, he gasps, shaking with the force of it,
you dare to speak her name to me-
It was Ygraines choice and you know it. It had been involuntary, like fucking always. Uther
had brushed against him, busily tying a groggy Merlin to the beam with heavy ropes, and the
vision had flashed gold behind closed eyes. Just like that, Uthers painful history Arthurs, too
laid itself out in front of Merlin. This isnt for her. Its for you, and you know it.
What Merlin? Arthurs voice is unsteady. What are you-
She took my wife from me, Uther hisses, and for the first time he sounds truly deranged.
Sucked the life from her as she lay in my arms.
F-father?
She wanted her child to live, Merlin says, very soft. Ygraine made her choice and she didnt
regret it for a second.
It was sorcery. And you are no better, spilling lies into my sons ears with your forked tongue,
turning him against me-
You can burn every person on the face of this earth, Merlin chokes out, not easy to say burn
when hes currently standing on his own funeral pyre, and it will not bring her back. Youre only
driving Arthur further away.
Father, Arthur says, voice breaking, hes right. I cant support this. What youre doing is
wrong. I know this, Ive always known it. Its nothing to do with Merlin. I cant stand by and let
you kill innocent people.
I cannot continue to forgive your disloyalty, Arthur.
I know that. His fists clench at his side and Merlin sucks in a quick breath, conscious of the
feeling that things are spiraling, beyond any of their control.
If you do not stand with me-
I wont let you hurt Merlin.
You cannot stop me, son, Uther says simply, secure in the knowledge that theres no way for
anyone to reach him before he simply flicks the cigarette onto the pyre, and Arthur takes a deep
breath. Hes made a decision, Merlin can sense it but he cant see, he doesnt know what Arthur
could possibly-
If you do this, Arthur says, and his voice is dead. Merlins head falls back against the beam, his
throat working. Arthur should never sound like that. Never. Then theres nothing left for me.
And he steps forward, levers himself easily over the balconys edge, first one leg and then the
other. His fingers curve over the top of the woodwork in a loose, easy grasp, the only thing
keeping him safe, two stories up.
Arthur, Uther says, voice suddenly harder than before. What are you doing?
The only thing I can do, he says, the only thing thats left. And he looks down at Merlin. His
eyes are clear, and a smile touches his face, its small and relaxed. Fond. Nothing at all like the
insanity hes contemplating. Theres no hint of fear in him.
Arthur, dont, Merlin cries in horror. He eyes the size of the fall, the likelihood of landing on the
dusty rows of seats stacked beneath his balcony if he doesnt leap out far enough- Dont.
Uthers voice is cold. This wont change my mind, son, its a poor attempt at blackmail.
Merlin watches his fingers uncurl from the railing. Its not an attempt at anything, Arthur says,
and leaps, eyes locked on Merlin.
NO, Merlins cries mingle with Uthers and hes never been so fucking glad to see a wash of
gold over his vision, something is happening that will help Arthur, something that will-
He lands heavily, with a muffled grunt of pain.
Arthur, he screams, straining forward against the ropes. Arthur.
Hes landed on the very edge of the stage, one sharp groan escaping as he clutches at his leg. But
beneath him is a huge expanse of red fabric, the ragged curtains from the stage area coiled beneath
him in a makeshift landing pad that has partially softened the blow. Gasping, Merlin watches as
Arthur rolls to his knees, hands clenching the fabric as he shakes his head as if to clear it,
frowning. He takes a breath, then two and raises his head to look at Merlin.
The stunned look on his face says it all. He saw. Merlins eyes, the magic, all of it. Merlin- the
choked-off whisper falls from his lips.
I told you, Uthers voice shakes in excitement. I told you, and now you see it. Now you will
believe. The command in his voice is absolute, an expression of total confidence and suddenly
Merlin can see how he convinced others to do his bidding. His charisma is difficult to resist. Its
cold, and empty beneath, but theres something about the man.
Merlin swallows and keeps his eyes on Arthur. Will he- surely he wont.
He loves me, he says desperately to himself. He loves me. He wont-
Arthur, he whispers, and Arthur just crouches there, still staring.
You you performed magic, he says, his voice just a thin thread.
I told you I had a secret, he says weakly. Arthur-
Those blue eyes fly to his fathers face. You didnt make it up, Arthur says, wondering. Magic
is magic is real?
Yes, son, Uther says, voice suddenly deep and affectionate, a warm curl full of the promise of
fatherly love. Merlins jaw clenches in sudden fear. How can Arthur possibly resist that? Its what
hes longed for all his life. Its real. The enemy is real.
Arthurs eyes flicker at that, toward Merlin and then away.
No, Merlin has time to think, gut wrenching at the thought of being Arthurs enemy. Id never
hurt you, Arthur-
But Arthur is staring down at the red pile of curtain at his feet.
He must burn, son, Uther says, and Merlin flinches at the calm, regal weight behind the words.
Its the only way to remove the threat. Step back, Arthur, and let this end.
Arthur draws in a deep, shuddering breath, eyes still focused on the pool of red at his feet. He
bends, clutching the fabric in his hands. Merlin is shaking so hard hed be on his knees if it
werent for the ropes binding him.
Arthur, he whispers, hands twisting uselessly in the small of his back and he looks up, away, for
anything, anything, fuck, why cant he get free, why cant he control it, why is it always this
ridiculous involuntary accident crap- Arthur-
Then do it, Arthur says, the words grinding out of his chest. Do it and let this be over.
Step back, Uther says, and Arthur obeys, dragging the curtain with him.
Merlin is frozen. Silent, staring at Arthur, who wont meet his eyes. No, he whispers. Arthur,
no. Its going to happen anyway, he knows that, but for Arthur to agree to it- he just chokes on
that thought. Oh God, hell be so sorry later, the hurt is fresh right now but Arthur wouldnt ever-
Merlin, he whispers, eyes focused on the red fabric in his hands, the proof of Merlins betrayal.
You could have told me. Should have told me.
Arthur, hes sobbing it now, cant look toward Uther, cant look away from that face, let it be
the last thing he sees, Im sorry, I know. He sucks in a deep breath and grinds out, Dont blame
yourself, Arthur, its not your f-
Enough, Uther says, and flings his cigarette at Merlins feet.

Chapter 17
Chapter Summary
Three more cans burst into flames behind Uther. The demonic visual of spurting,
moving fire isnt helping Merlins terror levels any.

Arthur is moving before Merlin can process it, he doesnt even have time to tense his body in
anticipation of the flames. His eyes flare gold one more time but he stares at Arthur through the
haze, doesnt even know what his magic did - all that matters is Arthur is moving toward him,
toward the fire, hell be burned too-
No, Merlin screams, straining against the ropes, kicking wildly, this is worse than being
abandoned-
Arthur, no- His eyes drag down against his will but he has to know, he has to see the flames-
Theres nothing. Just the same putrid, fuel-soaked wood and he blinks just as Arthur reaches his
side. He drops the fabric, oh, of course, meant to smother the flames. Then theres a sound that
can only be one thing fire bursting to life and they both glance toward it on automatic, even as
Arthurs hands scrabble for the ropes binding Merlin.
The cigarette Merlins magic must have flicked it back, toward Uther, who is blinking stupidly
landed amongst the fuel cans littering the stage. Arthur sucks in a sharp breath as the first one
bursts into flame, but doesnt stop what hes doing.
Oh God, Merlin breathes, watching the orange flames spurt from the open mouth of the can.
Droplets have scattered across the floor from Uthers careless handling, theyre catching alight in
swift succession and there goes another one-
If just one of the sparks flies in their direction
Fuck, Arthur breathes, and spins back, resolutely focused on the ropes.
Arthur, Merlin begins, and he shakes his head, face set.
Shut up, Merlin.
He cant help it, run is on the tip of his tongue, but Arthurs face is already telling him thats never
going to happen, and also, that Merlin was a prize idiot to think for one second that Arthur would
ever leave him to his fate. He drags his eyes to Uther instead, knowing theyre nowhere near out
of danger just yet, and watching is all he can do right now.
Uther is reaching into his pocket for oh fuck, a lighter and Merlin sucks in a breath. His own
potential danger doesnt seem to phase Uther at all, his eyes are lit from within by his unholy
crusade, his determination to see Merlin and his magic turned to ashes. Arthur, he chokes,
better hurry.
No, really? Arthur murmurs. I thought this might be a good time to dally-
Hes coming, Arthur. Its taking everything Merlin has not to struggle against the bonds, but he
knows itll only hinder Arthurs efforts. Hes shaking with the effort of holding back his panic, no
movement and no unnecessary words either, because if he talks too much hell lose it entirely and
devolve into some kind of shrieking mess.
Arthurs shaky breaths get a little louder but theres no other reply and Merlin cant even see what
hes doing, only that his arms are moving frantically and the bonds seem just as tight as ever-
Traitor, Uther grates out, low and vicious and Merlin swallows. Three more cans burst into
flames behind Uther, the first two are burned out, theyd only held enough fumes to burn for a few
seconds but the demonic visual of spurting, moving fire isnt helping Merlins terror levels any.
But at least now Uther has to approach and light the damn thing by hand, hes not going to give
Merlin the chance to use magic again. Its buying them a few precious seconds.
Arthur, he warns, low and extremely panicked and just as Arthur snarls his father bends to
touch his lighter to the edge of the pyre. Oh God, what now and then the ropes around Merlins
chest loosen just slightly. He wriggles his shoulders, tastes blood on his lips.
Fuck, Merlin cries, Arthur, get out- and he watches, helpless, as the tiny flame leaps in a
playful dance from piece to piece, multiplying and spreading more quickly than he can really
comprehend as Uther steps back, triumphant. He sneers at Merlin and slides to the left, lights
another section and then continues around again to light another. Theyre surrounded inside of
four seconds and then Uther is backing away from the heat, face set in a snarl as he watches.
Merlin glances down, the rising flames creating a golden haze oddly similar to his magic and a
half-second later Arthur makes a strangled sound, crouched now, trying to free Merlins legs.
Outside the circle of flames Uther shouts, startled and full of rage.
Move, Arthur growls, wrenching at the rope. It gives another inch or so and Merlin arches his
back, trying to help but the flames are leaping forward faster than light, faster than thought, smoke
rising beneath their feet now. The flames encircling them are waist-high, working inward toward
Merlin and he flinches back automatically. He gasps as his wound slams into the rough wood of
the beam one more fucking time and then Arthurs hand is wrapped around his arm, brutal
strength hauling him over to one side. The loose pile of timber shifts beneath their feet and Merlin
flings out a hand for balance and snatches it back with a yell at the burn of flying embers on his
skin.
The ropes are still binding his feet but theyre looser and Arthur is dragging at them blindly as
Merlin struggles, frantic. Arthurs breath is catching in near sobs from the smoke, close to Merlins
ear and he wants to tell him to run but theres no air left now for talking-
Hes dizzy, too dizzy to see but he can still feel, and theres the smell and the smoke and the bright
vicious pain of a burn along one shin as his jeans catch fire. Incredible heat builds beneath his feet
and sparks starting to fly around his head and Arthurs hand on his arm pulling, pulling Merlin
through the wall of flame and theres high pitched screaming that seems very far away.
He hits the floor hard, head bouncing yet again and maybe that explains why the screaming wont
stop, impossibly loud and someones dragging, pulling him aside, making it cooler and darker and
he forces his eyes open, coughing and coughing and coughing
He turns his head, Arthur, and sees blood on his cheek and blonde hair matted with ashes through
the tears streaming from his eyes. Arthur is patting frantically at the spot-fires on both of their
clothes, fuck, my leg, he seems mostly unharmed and Merlin manages one clear breath on that
thought. He turns his head, watching Arthur hack and hack for breath, just like Merlin, both
braced on their hands and knees on the stage.
He reaches out a weak hand, grasping, some part of his mind still aware of Uther and even as the
thought springs free Arthurs eyes meet his, one quick nod before he rolls to his side, scanning for
danger, ever the soldier. Theres a serious knife in one hand and now Merlin understands how the
thick ropes and stubborn knots were handled.
A second later he realizes the screaming he was hearing isnt precisely screaming its sirens, oh
thank Christ, but theres something else beneath that, and just as hes shoving himself upright he
hears Arthurs choked-off cry.
Father-
Oh, fuck. Across the pyre Uther is- he flinches back and turns his head away. Uthers clothes are
completely alight down the left side of his body, he is staggering back into the wings, fuel cans
scattering as he goes. Arthur surges to his feet, stumbles unheeding over the edge of the burning
pile as he runs across the stage and tackles his father to the floor.
He rolls Uther over with brutal efficiency, smothering the flames as best he can and Merlin
staggers to his feet and stumbles around the flames in the opposite direction, gathering up a length
of the red curtain. He runs to Arthurs side and flings it over Uther and together they pat down the
last of the flames, just as the sound of running feet in heavy boots can be heard.


* * *

Clich or not, he hates the smell of hospitals. He breathes in deeper and tries to absorb only the
scent of Arthur, who should really be in his own bed, not half-reclining on Merlins. He watches
the familiar face for a while before he speaks, soaking up the sheer luxury of being alone with
Arthur, no doctors, no firefighters, no police. No spectre, living or dead.
There were complications at the end of your mothers pregnancy.
Arthur shifts restlessly. I know, Merlin, he mutters.
Merlin strokes a hand over his uninjured cheek. He didnt tell you everything, though.
A slow breath escapes Arthur and he nods, once. Merlin thinks of Uther, cuffed to a bed in
Intensive Care, and relents.
We dont have to talk about it now-
No. I-I want to know, he says, voice low.
Merlin shifts on the bed to get an unimpeded view of that face. His fingers still moving on
Arthurs face he says softly, She loved you so much, Arthur. Even Uthers grief couldnt
dilute that. Merlin could still feel it.
Theres a brief spasm of pain and then Arthur says, You said it was her choice.
Merlin nods. He forms his words slowly, giving Arthur time to stop him, to think, to feel.
The doctors warned her that the delivery would be dangerous. She couldnt deliver naturally,
they were arranging a caesarian but even then the risks to both of you were high. He hesitates.
She had an old friend from school, Nimueh. She could do magic, and Ygraine knew. Uther
suggested perhaps she could help. He meant, could make sure you were both safe, but
He thinks back over Uthers memories. The pensive look on Ygraines face. I think she knew,
from the start, that there would be a price if they tried to use magic. He hesitates, I cant prove
it. Its not how your father remembers it but I saw her face in his memories and she-
He stops. Oh, he says soft on the realization.
What? Arthur asks, eyes fixed on his hands. Theyre both bandaged, one more heavily than the
other.
Merlin watches him, feels a smile tug at his lips. She looked just like you do when youve made
up your mind about something. Arthur glances up. The same way you did when you jumped off
that balcony. Damn the torpedoes.
He shifts, glancing away, and Merlin says gently, She smiled when she saw you born, Arthur.
He wishes, oh how he wishes he could show Arthur what he saw in Uthers mind Ygraines
pale face, set with triumph as she closes her hands around a tiny, pink-skinned bundle, her mouth
moving, naming him, Merlin thinks, just as her eyes close for the last time.
Arthur drags in a heavy breath and Merlin pulls him close. She made her choice, Arthur. It
wasnt your doing and its not your fault. Thats what mothers do. I just I dont think she
understood what it would do to your father to lose her- like that.
But it was it was his idea.
Merlin nods. I think maybe maybe thats why he just lost it. He blamed the magic but
beneath it all I think it was guilt, Arthur, that sent him over the edge. You were right, love, he
whispers, he wasnt always like that. He was that guy, the one your mother loved, but he
couldnt couldnt deal with her loss, with feeling like it was his fault she was gone. He had to
put all that rage somewhere
Arthur just nods, tired, and Merlin stops. Some part of Arthur is always going to blame himself,
and theres probably nothing anyone can do about that.
They lie there in silence for a while, hospital sounds in the background and finally Arthur says,
So you know all this because of your magic.
Merlin tenses. Arthurs voice sounds not right when he says that word.
How does it work, exactly?
He draws in a long, slow breath and keeps his eyes firmly fixed on Arthurs face. His fingers
dance around the dressing along Arthurs left cheekbone, a flying ember caught him there and it
will scar. Ive never called it that, you know.
What?
Magic. I always thought of it as luck, of a sort.
Arthur frowns.
Well, the thing is Ive never been able to control it. Things just happen.
Like moving things.
He nods. Yes. Things move, and also I. He stops and swallows. Then drops his hand to the cuff
of Arthurs watch, Sometimes I can sense things. From objects.
Arthur blinks slowly at that. Then he looks down at the leather cuff. Sense things?
The past. Like your fathers memories of your birth. He hesitates, then adds, And that night, at
the house, with Lance?
You touched my watch, Arthur says slowly.
I saw your fathers face.
Arthur draws back, just slightly and Merlin stops, waiting.
The silence lasts for a long time and then Arthur says, low, You saw how I got why I wear my
watch all the time.
Merlin nods, heart beating fast.
Arthur stares down at it. Its my earliest memory, he says softly, and Merlin winces. He can still
see Uthers face, twisted with rage, the small, skinny arm in his grasp, firelight flickering and the
sudden burst of pain. He doesnt have to imagine the scent of burning flesh, itll be a long time
before that sense memory leaves him. Its all wrong for those things to be Arthurs first memory.
Merlin, the voice is impossibly soft, dont worry about it. Now its Arthurs turn to be
stroking his face, slow and measured and loving. You need to get some sleep.
I thought you werent supposed to sleep if you had concussion, he says, yawning.
I imagine theyve got a handle on things, seeing were at a hospital, Arthur says drily. His face
sobers. Its all right. Ill still be here. Just get some rest, and tomorrow well go home.
He blinks up at Arthur. I couldnt say it. The words come out slurred, as if being given
permission to rest has brought his absolute exhaustion crashing into every cell of his body. I
couldnt tell you that I loved you when I was hiding the magic from you.
Arthurs hand stills. His throat moves as he swallows.
But you knew, Merlin says, even sleepier. You must have known. Will could see it all the way
from Switzerland.
Arthur huffs out a half-laugh.
Shit, Merlin forces his eyes open, Im falling asleep in the middle of God, Im terrible at this,
but you believe me, right, you still want-
Hot lips brush his. Merlin.
Mm?
Go to sleep, Arthur murmurs, and hes smiling. Ill be here when you wake up and well make
embarrassing declarations by the dozen.
Mnot having your babies, he mumbles, eyes already closed. Anything else you want, though.
Theres a stuttered laugh full of affection as he slides sideways into sleep.



Merlins deeply under by the time Arthur feels capable of moving. Its partly exhaustion, but
mostly the deep abiding desire to be within arms length of Merlin for at least the next several
weeks. Possibly longer.
Still, that pale face and slack mouth beneath the bandages is reminder enough that the other man
needs healing sleep more than anything else right now, so Arthur slides himself off the bed and
takes up residence in the chair instead. He leaves his hand in Merlins, wishing the light bandage
wasnt there.
An hour ticks by and hes stiff and uncomfortable, but its not until the night nurse comes in to
check their vitals that Merlin sighs in his sleep, rolls over and Arthurs hand comes free. She
shakes her head at him, and he forestalls her, climbs back into his bed, even though hes fine. Its a
testament to the power of money that they let him stay overnight at all, considering all he has is a
sprained ankle and some minor burns.
She takes his temperature, checks Merlins blood pressure swiftly enough that he immediately
drops back to sleep, and once shes gone Arthur slips out of bed again. He needs to stretch out the
kinks, visit a bathroom and find something to eat. He hadnt been able to choke down the hospital
dinner earlier, but the time for such indulgence is past. A soldier learns fast to be pragmatic about
the essentials, he wont do any good for Merlin by making himself weaker.
He limps to the ensuite and when hes done there, lets himself out into the quiet hallway. Theyve
been moved far from the chaos of the emergency department to a little pod of private, protected
rooms. The stern-faced matron at the nurses station points him toward the nearest vending
machine, with obvious disapproval at seeing a patient wandering about unsupervised. Still, she
doesnt argue, and as he makes his way to the machine Arthur wonders if its the police presence
in the hospital thats keeping her quiet, or his own injuries. And just like that his mind is back on
Uther.
He selects a sandwich at random and eats it standing up, tasting nothing, seeing the flames and the
smoke and Merlins pale face, set against the pain and the fear. Sees the moment Merlin believed
Arthur would turn on him and every fucking stroke of the knife on those ropes.
He tosses the empty package into the nearest bin and walks without thinking, down two flights of
stairs and into another, slightly busier hallway, ignoring the ache in his leg beneath the strapping.
He gets a couple of glances from staff, which he ignores, but the long, careful look from the
uniform sitting outside Uthers room is another matter.
Mr Fitzroy, he says, rising slowly to his feet and dropping his newspaper to the floor. Hes
balanced lightly on his feet, ready for trouble, and Arthur halts, mouth twisting. The DI must have
warned the locals to expect Arthur.
I could take him. Hes got the advantage, injured or not, unless this guy is the county Ultimate
Fighting Champion or something equally ridiculous. But hes not completely lost to propriety, and
he doesnt want to endanger the other patients on this floor for his own revenge. Besides
Is he dying? he asks bluntly. Uthers own machinations might well be the end of him, and then
he wont have to try to hide from Merlin what hes done. He doesnt want to be the cause of more
worry for the younger man. Its enough that Arthur is bitterly angry with himself for his instinctive
reactions back at the theatre. Merlin, of course, has already forgiven the half-second of recoil from
the idea of magic. But its a betrayal Arthur still cant quite believe hed almost committed.
His fists clench and he glares at the room again, impotent. Why the fuck did I help to put him out
when he was burning?
He turns his head toward the burly male nurse hovering nearby. Hm. Greg must have been very
explicit in his warnings. Is he going to die?
The man takes a slow breath and says evenly, Its very possible. Some of the burns are to his
throat, and with his airways compromised-
Arthur gives a short, brutal nod. Good. He turns on his heel and stalks away.

Chapter 18
Chapter Summary
He tunes in to the equipment, their regular rhythm, the sheer unrelenting consistency
of machinery and tries to be like them. Matches his breath to the drip of the I.V., his
blinks to the heart monitor.
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes

Merlin struggles to the surface before hes ready but something theres something going on
outside his room. Theres daylight trickling in past the blinds on the window and in the hallway,
low voices.
Is he-
Hell be all right. Thats Arthur.
Oh thank God. And Gwen. The first voice he still hasnt quite placed-
And Uther? Oh. Morgana.
His injuries might prove fatal, Arthur says, voice like winter. I went up last night to- check.
Oh, Arthur. Merlin bites his lip. He knows exactly what Arthur went up there for.
Theres silence, then Morgana says, You look like hell.
Theres a pause probably Arthur shrugging how very much he doesnt care and then she says,
more gently, Ive got rooms for both of us at a little B&B just around the corner. I brought some
of your clothes. Why dont you go back, take a shower and change. The doctor says theyre
happy to discharge you.
He must shake his head or something, because Gwen murmurs, Well stay with him, Arthur, the
whole time. Itll do him good to see you looking more like yourself.
Theres another pause, then he seems to murmur reluctant agreement. Merlin lets his eyes close,
knowing Arthur wont leave if he sees Merlin awake, and once he hears Arthurs footsteps come
to the door, pause, then finally recede he opens his eyes, lets first Gwen and then Morgana look
their fill.
Hey, he says, sliding up the bed with a wince. It must be early morning, breakfast will be by
soon and then, please God, he can leave this place.
You were awake, then. Sneaky. Morgana sounds approving.
He needs to get out of here for a little while, Merlin says. Hes brooding.
Well, this was his worst nightmare come true, Gwen murmurs, brushing Merlins hair out of his
eyes and avoiding the bandage with extreme care. How are you?
Okay, Merlin shrugs. Be better once I get out of here.
Lance says hello and that hes extremely pissed off, by the way.
Merlin hums at that. Not sure if she means Lance is pissed at him for getting hurt, or at Uther for
being an arsehole, or generally at the world. Not really like he can argue, anyway.
I spoke to your mother this morning, Morgana circles the bed and sinks down at his side.
Oh. Merlin winces. How um, is she?
Shes okay, Morgana says doubtfully.
Shes pissed off and panicked but controlling it, Merlin thinks, rueful. Ah well. Hell be in for
some serious coddling when she gets back to England.
She landed about an hour ago, didnt want me to pick her up.
He nods, slides a little further up against the pillows and let the two of them coo softly over him as
breakfast comes and goes. No-one asks too many questions, he volunteered what he could but
honestly, he didnt want to go over it again, not when he knew the police would be back this
morning. As if on cue, theres a knock on the door. Merlin looks up as the nurse bustles in.
Theres a policeman here to see you, she said, tightlipped and disapproving. She slides the
rolling table away from the bed, Morgana and Gwen scattering in her wake. I told him not until
Ive seen to your vitals.
He ate a good breakfast, Gwen offers, and the nurse nods. Hes still not sure how they even got
in here before visiting hours, possibly it has something to do with the private suite hes in. He feels
oddly like Beyonce or perhaps a royal, with all these privileges.
Its okay, Merlin croaks while the blood pressure cuff squeezes his arm to a pulp. I dont mind
seeing him.
She sniffs and scribbles on his chart in silence, then peers under the sheet at his leg. Very well
then.
She opens the door and watches a subdued Greg Travers all the way into the room. No upsetting
him, she says sternly. No stress.
The older man just nods, clearly not enjoying the looks hes receiving from Gwen or Morgana.
Merlin is charmed to see the return of the gimlet glare, when its not turned on him, that is.
Morgana really is very intimidating, theres a sense of the might go rogue at any minute about
her.
Greg, he says, taking pity on the man. This is DI Travers, he adds, for the girls benefit.
Merlin. How are you?
Im all right, he says, just as Gwen says, Hes concussed.
And burned, Morgana adds.
Im all right, Merlin repeats, and waves toward a chair. You need my statement, right?
Im all right, Merlin repeats, and waves toward a chair. You need my statement, right?
If youre up to it. Theres really no urgency, what with all the physical evidence, but- I thought
perhaps youd prefer to get it over and done with now, rather than have to think about it once you
get home.
Merlin nods, then winces at the flare of pain it causes. Its a nice distraction from the real pain in
his leg. That hasnt improved overnight at all, he notices uneasily. Yeah. Um, no, youre right.
Arthurs not here?
I sent him away to shower and hopefully sleep, Morgana said, arms folded. Hes not in much
better shape than Merlin.
No, Greg says, definite guilt in his face now. No, I suppose not.
Its all right, Merlin murmurs. I knew the risks. We took precautions, and because of that
Arthur found me in time. Come on, he waves to the girls to back off a little, lets do this.
Theyre about halfway through the story and Merlin is able to genuinely appreciate the benefits
of concussion, since he can go all vague when Uthers belief in magic is mentioned when a
uniformed officer appears at the door. Greg is up swiftly, and Merlin watches his face, the swift
passage of emotion across it, a few short words exchanged and then he turns back.
Hes struggling with something and Merlin waits a few seconds before he says, guessing, Uthers
awake.
Greg nods as Morgana stiffens beside him and Gwen turns abruptly away.
Hes asking for Arthur, Merlin goes on, because thats the only thing that would make Greg
look quite that uncomfortable.
No fucking way, Morganas voice whips out. There is no way-
We cant make that decision for him, Merlin says wearily. Its his father.
Hes a monster- Morgana begins.
-no argument there, Merlin says, still soft. Hes a nightmare, a million times over, Morgana,
trust me I have no illusions about that.
She shuts up instantly, a slight flush across her cheekbones thats the first hes ever seen on her
face.
But its Arthurs decision to make. He turns his head toward Greg, tired, and says, You should
call him. He has his phone.
No need, Arthurs voice is clear and cool from the doorway.
Merlins eyes snap to his face, then past his shoulder.
Ive brought a visitor, Arthur says, voice a little gentler as he steps aside for Hunith.
Merlin, she says, and engulfs him, extremely gently.
Mum, he says, completely overwhelmed. Its the scent of her, he thinks. It drags up the small
boy inside him, every time. He wraps his arms around her and hugs, hard. Im all right, he
manages.
You- oh, Merlin, I could murder you, she half-sobs, half-laughs into his hair.
I know. Im sorry.
He gets a glimpse over her shoulder of Arthur, face full of guilt, and then, like a psychic, his
mother turns and reaches out a hand. Come here, love, she says, and unwilling, Arthur does.
Theres some muttering and shuffling in the background as Arthur approaches and allows Hunith
to wrap an arm around him, and then, suddenly, the door closes and the room is silent the three
of them are alone.
You poor boys, she croons. What youve both been through.
Arthur flinches, and she lifts her head. Arthur Fitzroy, she says, stern, dont you dare try to tell
me youre trying to take responsibility for this.
It happened because of me, he says, voice thin. Hes not looking at either of them.
It happened because of Uther, she shoots back. Morgana told me all about it. You tried to
protect Merlin in every way you could, and at the end you were there to save him. I dont want to
hear any more of this, Arthur.
He stays as he is, staring down at Merlin and Huniths hands, entwined.
Good luck convincing him of that, Mum, Merlin says, faint smile touching his mouth. He leans
back, trying not to let the pain show on his face. His bloody head. And theres an unforgiving
throb in his shin, as well, a too-warm feeling.
Oh, dont you worry, love, she says, and he watches Arthur blink at the steel in her voice.
Merlin just barely holds back a snort. Lots of people underestimate his mother its the calm quiet
way she speaks, they have no idea who theyre dealing with.
Now, she says, straightening. What have the doctors said?
My heads okay, he says, and she is looking him over carefully. Theyre a little concerned
about my leg, but theyre going to look at it today. But I think I can go home.
Well see, is all she says. Burns are tricky. She turns her head. And you, Arthur?
Im fine, he says, very definitely, and takes a step back. Theres a knock on the door and they
all glance over. Its DI Travers.
Im um, heading off now, he says. Merlin, I got everything I needed, thank you. Merlin just
nods, then sees a trace of indecision on the older mans face.
What is it?
Gregs mouth flattens into a line. Ive, uh, I think Ive found out how Uther discovered Perceval
was a decoy.
What? Merlins head snaps up and he winces at the sudden movement, which derails Arthurs
white-lipped rage nicely. Hunith strokes a hand down his arm and he takes a visible breath.
Greg sighs. He looks ten years older through all this. Apparently Percevals girlfriend is
pregnant. She showed up at the pub when she found out, made a bit of a scene about him never
being home anymore-
When was this? The question whips out of Arthur.
Two weeks ago, Greg says heavily. Before anyone else can speak he raises a hand. He didnt
report it. Worried about getting into trouble, I expect. I didnt know a thing about it until this
morning.
Theres silence. Arthur turns his head away. Merlin bites his lip, worried, then glances at Greg. He
tips his head toward the door and Greg takes a slow breath, nods and retreats.
Arthur.
He doesnt answer.
Arthur.
Just. Give me a minute.
Merlin nods, worries at his lip some more. The words just burst out, He couldnt have known-
Arthur raises a hand and Merlin stops. Theres silence, and just as Greg steps back into the
hallway, Arthur turns. He hesitates, then says heavily, Im going to go down to the ICU.
Huniths face settles into a calm mask, she just nods. Greg is left blinking in the doorway, one
hand braced on the frame. Behind him Gwen and Morgana are talking quietly and texting on their
phones.
Arthur? Merlin cant help but ask. Are you sure?
He just nods once, briefly. Yes, Merlin. Im sure.
Merlin takes a deep breath. All right, then. He bites his lip. Ill um, Ill be here.
A very faint smile appears on Arthurs face, all the small muscles in his face relaxing at those few
words, as if hed been worried, underneath, that Merlin might vanish somehow. Yes, Merlin. I
know. He runs a gentle thumb over Merlins face. Ill be back soon.


Arthur shoves past Greg and doesnt make eye contact with Gwen or Morgana on his way to the
lift. He presses the button and then turns his head. Coming? he says, voice flat. The girls are
watching him with pale, worried faces, and in his cousins case, tightly-wound fury. Hell have to
explain this to her later. If thats even possible.
Uh. Yeah, I guess, Greg says, and reaches his side just as the doors open.
The lift is empty and Greg takes a quick breath, says, Arthur-
I know. Arthur cuts him off. Hes not being intentionally cruel, he just cant stand any more
fucking apologies right now. Hes too full of his own regrets to absorb more, right now those
words are just ripping holes in him, and he cant afford that for what hes about to do.
He walks up to the ICU desk, Greg at his side, and says, Im Arthur Fitzroy. Hes interrupting
some kind of murmured conference, change of shift probably, and an older woman looks him
over, nods while the redheaded nurse looks up, her face changing in a way that says shes heard
all the juicy details about the burns victim under police guard whod tried to kill both his son and
the boyfriend.
Youre here for the older nurse runs a finger down a list, Uther Fitzroy? Shes clearly
unaware of any drama.
Correct.
Her eyes shift to Greg, then narrow. And you are? As though she hasnt already recognized
what Greg represents.
DI Travers, he says, shows his ID.
The patient has requested to speak to his son, she says icily, not the police. Hes in a great
amount of p-
His son wont speak to him without the police, Arthur says, flat and intractable. His choice.
She blinks at him, wrongfooted. I.
The redhead cuts in and sends the other woman a warning look. Mr Fitzroy, she begins, soft, if
youd just wait for one moment. She hustles back to the room behind and emerges with a young,
tired looking doctor. The four of them drift past the stony faced nurse and away from the desk to a
quiet corner of the hallway.
Mr Fitzroy, he says, and Arthur nods again. Your father indicated his wishes early this
morning that is, to be taken off the respirator.
Arthur just nods.
Effectively, hes asking us to let him go. His burns are severe, hes in considerable pain. You
understand, he wont be able to breathe on his own for too much longer. He eyes Arthur
carefully.
Arthur just nods again, feels his hands unclench at knowing this wont be his decision. I
understand, he says. Thank you, doctor.
The doctor nods to both of them, Greg standing a few feet behind, and leaves.
The redhead remains. Ill just see if hes awake, and goes back to the desk to collect her
colleague. They disappear out the back for a brief, whispered History of Arthurs Fucking Life
and then the redhead flits into Uthers room. Greg gives a quick jerk of the head to the constable
by the door, who vanishes without a word.
He will see you now, the nurse says when she emerges, expressionless.
Arthur doesnt take a deep breath. He just puts one foot in front of the other and walks forward,
locks down every emotion hes ever felt and hides them away.
The machines dominate the room. Its odd, for a man like Uther to be reduced to this, an
accessory, given leave to exist because of electricity and science. Arthur looks him right in the
eye, but shifts so that DI Travers stays in his peripheral vision. Itll remind him why hes there.
Arthur. The rasp is barely recognizable. Almost one-half of his face is covered by surgical
dressings, his throat and neck as well. His visible eye is fixed on Arthurs face.
You asked to see me. His own voice isnt much better, remote and thin. If theres something
you want to tell me, Ill listen. But first you need to answer some questions.
Theres silence. Hes tempted, so tempted to leave. But he fixes Gwens face in his mind instead.
Youre dying.
Greg shifts uncomfortably behind him.
Theres nothing left for you to lose, surely you can give Gwen and the other families some
closure. Admit what you did.
Ive done nothing wrong.
Im not here for a conversation about morality. If youre prepared to speak honestly, Ill stay.
Otherwise, consider this my farewell. He turns.
Hes cold. So fucking cold. He needs Merlin. He needs Morgana and Gwen and Hunith and
fucking Dragon.
Arthur. It obviously costs him something to speak, and Arthur pauses. Takes a deep breath and
glances back over his shoulder.
You always wanted me to show resolve, Father. Decisiveness and a will of iron. Well here it is.
You admit your crimes, he swallows, hating what hes about to offer, and I will keep vigil here.
Ill stay with you.
Those eyes flash, rage and helplessness and its an awful end, even for Uther but he doesnt shift
an inch. Each one of them stays frozen in place, beeps and hisses the only soundtrack until finally
Uther husks, Very well.
Arthur swallows. He exchanges a glance with Greg, who looks sick, and then steps forward,
rounding the bed. Arthur stays on Uthers blind side, a few feet from the bed, crosses his arms
hard over his chest and hangs on as Greg flicks on a recorder and begins to speak.
After the first few minutes he tunes out the raspy confession. The names, the details are more than
he can bear right now, its enough to know Uther will at least tell the truth, this once, and finally
there will be answers, if not justice.



He has no idea how long it takes. He tunes in to the equipment, their regular rhythm, the sheer
unrelenting consistency of machinery and tries to be like them. Matches his breath to the drip of
the I.V., his blinks to the heart monitor.
At some point hes aware that Greg leaves. The nurses come in and out again, one of them speaks
to him but he cant answer, he just he cant. He glances her way, enough that she backs away
and leaves him be, standing silent by the bed of his dying father.
I did what I had to do, Uther says, a long time later. His voice is incredibly thin, theres none of
the charisma and vitality Arthur had always idolized, tried to emulate.
Arthur cant speak. He just fucking cant.
I was doing it for you, he tries again. To give you your rightful-
I never asked you for any of this, Arthur snaps, goaded beyond belief. I never wanted any of
this garbage, it was all for you, something to fill the empty spaces she left behind because I wasnt
enough. And by the time he gets to the end, hes shouting. He glances away and smothers his
mouth with his hand.
Uther falls silent, his one visible eye fixed on Arthur. His breath is slowly becoming choppy,
laboured, and Arthur swallows, sensing the end. When he speaks again, Arthur leans helplessly
forward to hear it. It never would have worked, hes murmuring, dreamy. All those years,
wasted, for an undeserving heir I see nothing of myself in you.
Arthur jolts. He stares down at that ruined face.
Those words revolve around the frozen heart of him. Nothing of myself its as though hes
suddenly seeing the sun for the first time. He can feel the echo of those words travelling, cell to
cell to cell, thawing out the terrible fear, the silent horror hes held tight all these years. I see
nothing of myself in you.
Im not like you, he whispers, and Uther blinks, slowly. Am I.
He stares down at his father, the groove tracing down his cheek, frown lines on that regal
forehead.
Arthur takes a shaky breath. Am I like her?
Another slow blink, and the glaze of pain in Uthers eyes clears for just a moment as he stares up
at Arthur. Ygraine, he whispers, and his free hand lifts, reaching. Ygraine, he says again, and
the eyes close.
The breath eases out of his chest and Uther stills.
Arthur breathes in, a huge gasping chunk of air that sticks in his throat and he grips the sheets,
fingers twisting. Hes shaking, trying to breathe out, when the redheaded nurse appears and
silently switches off the machines.
She stands on the opposite side of the bed for a moment, not speaking, then reaches over to close
Uthers eyes with a gentle hand. Arthur finally lets out a breath, head dropping down. Hes
shaking, shaking, cant stop it, cant stop-
Take as long as you need, she says softly, and leaves.



He takes some time to be alone.
He does not cry. But he sinks into a chair and tries to put his thoughts into some kind of order.
His father is dead. The monster is dead. The man who boasted to his friends when Arthur had
won a fencing tournament as a fourteen year old. The man who had tried to burn Merlin alive.
I think its going to take some time to work this out, he finally thinks, and laughs a little, passes a
hand over his face. It sounds like something Merlin would say. But the heavy stone thats been
lodged in his gut for the past few years is gone.
Theres nothing of me in you. The magic bloody words, apparently. Then snorts as he realizes
what he just magic.
Finally he pushes up out of the chair and leaves the room. At the door he pauses, but doesnt look
back. If hes going to remember his father, it wont be as the broken, empty husk left behind in
this sterile room.
He glances up, meets the eyes of the redheaded nurse, sees in a glance her handbag and keys on
the desk behind her, the cardigan shes drawn on over her uniform. Shes off-duty, but she waited,
to see him through, rather than hand him over to a new face. He crosses to the desk.
Thank you, he says and hes never meant it more.
She nods, her face sad and gentle. Hesitates, then presses a hand to his for a moment, says, Im
very sorry for your loss.


Arthur steps into the hallway on Merlins floor and takes a moment to gather himself. He doesnt
want to hes not up to making some big announcement. Not now. And hes hesitating too,
because he hasnt let himself think until now, but. What if- what if this has changed things? His
father tried to kill Merlin. He cant just assume.
He takes a shuddering breath and pushes on.
When he reaches the room, however, theres not really any chance of an in-depth conversation
happening, on any topic.
But surely I can have antibiotics at home, Merlin is saying. Whining.
Its important we monitor-
Argh, Merlin lets his head fall back in frustration, then winces.
Its only one more night, love, Hunith soothes, exchanging a glance with the doctor, an older
woman with breasts so generous even Arthur looks twice.
I want to go home, he insists.
Causing trouble again, Merlin? Arthur asks, forcing a smile, and every eye flicks to him in an
instant.
Are you alri-
Youre keeping him in another night? He looks straight at the doctor.
Thats my recommendation, yes, she says, glancing from Merlin to Hunith and back again. He
has the start of infection in the leg. Im not happy sending him home until were sure its under
control.
Arthur nods, and finally meets Merlins gaze as he rounds the bed and sinks down onto it. Its
just one more night, he soothes, and lets the other man look his fill as he takes Merlins hand.
just one more night, he soothes, and lets the other man look his fill as he takes Merlins hand.
Are you-
Merlin, Im fine, he says, and its almost true.
All right then, Mr Emrys, the doctor says, and heads for the door. Ill see you tomorrow,
hopefully for discharge.
Grr, Merlin mutters, but doesnt glance in her direction. Hunith follows the doctor and, with a
hesitant glance at Arthur, closes the door and leaves the two of them alone.
Hes gone, Arthur says immediately. Not going to make him ask.
Merlin nods once.
And yes. Im all right.
Theres a tiny line between Merlins brows and hes watching Arthur carefully. You are?
He nods. I am.
Merlin takes a short, hitching breath. The frown lines deepen. Okay. But it sounds like a
question, and Arthur bites back a smile.
He confessed, to Greg, he says quietly, and shuffles closer until their thighs are pressed against
one another, separated only by the sheet. He stares down at their joined hands. And I I stayed
with him until he- he went.
Merlin swallows audibly.
He said right at the end. He takes a long breath and raises his eyes to Merlin, He said that he
couldnt see anything of himself in me.
Merlins eyes are very blue, unblinking. Some of the tension goes out of him at whatever hes
seeing in Arthurs face. He nods very slowly, as if to say, yes, thats right, and Arthur manages a
rough smile. Im okay, Merlin, he says, I am. Or maybe, in time, he will be.
Then he swallows. Now that hes thought it, he has to know. Hell go mad wondering
Merlin, he begins, and meets those blue eyes. I havent asked.
Merlin turns his head a little deeper into the pillow, eyes watchful and knowing.
Its just that. He looks down. It occurs to me that you might after everything-
Arthur, Merlin says, impossibly soft. No.
He lifts his head, blinks at the other man. He hasnt even gotten the question out-
You and me, Merlin raises their hands to his lips. Thats it. Wanting out its just never going
to happen, you understand? Not from my end.
Theres a knock at the door and Merlins hand tightens around his as he sighs, longsuffering and
says, Come in. Arthurs not sorry the moment is broken, its all becoming a bit too much, to be
honest. His breathing is shaky and his eyes are blurred.
A new nurse, approximately fourteen years of age by the look, bustles in and drops a pen and card
on the bedside table. Youll need to order your meals, Mr Emrys, since youre staying. And Im
just going to change your dressing.
Ugh, Merlin scowls horribly at her and Arthur is completely enchanted by this display. Oh hell,
he thinks, Im even charmed when hes being a twit. He shifts off the bed and watches her closely,
since either he or Hunith will likely be doing this once Merlin comes home.
Theres another knock, tentative this time.
Um, Merlin? Its Gwen, hesitating in the hallway. Her eyes flick to Arthur in surprise, and she
seems on the verge of stepping back when the two of them motion her forward. I just got a text
from Will. He asked me to- um.
What? Merlin still doesnt give up the grumpy face, which Arthur understands, he doesnt want
Merlin in hospital any longer than he has to, but hes not going to side with him on this one, either.
Gwen shrugs and slides a glossy magazine onto Merlins lap. The cover is obscured by a sheet of
paper, a printed receipt by the look of it and as Arthur leans over, he can see its a three-year
subscription to
Merlin slides the paper aside.
Gourmet Traveller. Arthur raises an eyebrow and shares a confused glance with Gwen.
Merlin snorts. Prat, he says, but his fingers stroke over the cover and then he laughs and laughs
and laughs.

* * *

Im sure this isnt proper health and safety, Merlin whines. His hand touches the blindfold yet
again. Isnt this house still technically a building site?
Report me, Arthur says, smirking. Theres something very beguiling about having Merlin
completely at his mercy. He files that thought away for future reference. Right. Now the stairs.
Really? You think Ive forgotten where the stairs are, in my own home? I was only gone a few
weeks, Arthur.
Arthurs hand tightens on Merlins at the reminder. It had been a long, lonely series of endless
days in this house, waiting for the worst to happen. Hard to believe hed started out this way, just
Arthur Fitzroy in one ramshackle abode after another. Always on his own, always a just a house,
just a place.
Then he replays Merlins voice saying my own home, and something deep inside him relaxes.
Just reminding you, thats all, he says absently.
Just bossing me around, Merlin mutters. Theres the hint of a dimple in one cheek as they reach
the half-landing. And loving it, you prat.
Arthur shakes his head but makes no denial as he guides Merlin the rest of the way up the stairs
and into the bedroom.
Theres not, like, a surprise party in here or anything, is there? Merlin asks, suddenly nervous. I
dont like surprise parties. I had to hide in a dark pantry with three strangers once while we waited
for the birthday girl who was forty fucking minutes late. You cannot begin to imagine the
awkward small talk, not to mention the accidental body contact-
No, Merlin, its not a surprise party, Arthur rolls his eyes and backs them into the walk-in-robe.
Only Merlin.
He veers a little to the left before Arthur can correct, brushing against his own shirts on the
hangers. Hed moved all of Merlins things here one morose, lonely evening, brooding over what
Will must be saying to Merlin, all those miles away.
Get out, get out now, hed been assuming. He takes a deep breath and shakes it off.
Your mother told me once that you were a terror for avoiding your bath as a child. Arthur
shoves the connecting door with his hip so that it opens all the way and finally lets Merlin halt in
the open doorway.
Oh my God, Merlin moans. What have you two been talking about now? And when are these
conversations even happening?
He backs away, moving very slowly so as to make no sound, give no clues to what hes doing as
he toes out of his shoes and yanks his shirt over his head. Hes enjoying the whole idea of a
surprise far more than hed thought he would.
I thought perhaps you lacked motivation. He shimmies out of his jeans and kicks the clothes
aside on his way to the corner. First one leg, then the other. He sinks down very slowly and leans
back with great care.
Were there pictures? Oh God, not the one with the birthday cake.
Hes biting back a grin now. You can take off the blindfold. Arthur stretches his arms out and
lets them relax, raises one eyebrow in his best lord and master imitation as Merlin reaches up to the
bandana tied over his eyes.
If there is some hideous portrait gallery-
He breaks off and stands there, open-mouthed. His eyes flick to every corner of the room, to
Arthurs face, the room and then back again. He lingers over the enormous freestanding oval tub
where Arthur is reclining, the stained glass with a tiny dragon in the corner thats replaced the old
window, the enormous shower built for two. I. Um.
Arthur swallows as the silence lengthens. Hes suddenly nervous.
You finished it, Merlin whispers. Oh my its beautiful. I can see what you mean by
structural, he adds, eyeing the place where the second bedroom used to start, where the huge tub
now sits. Oh, Arthur.
Arthur takes a deep breath. So you think perhaps youll make use of it?
Merlin stops, caught between a scowl and smile. You idiot. Of course Ill hes already
stripping off his clothes, voice muffled for a moment as his shirt snags on his ears. As if I need
any motivation to go into a room thats likely to have you in it, naked.
Theres just one problem, Arthur says slowly, watching Merlins skin revealed. Its been too
long. Far too long.
Hmm?
Well. I had to fill the tub before I came to get you. So as not to ruin the surprise.
Merlin hesitates halfway through skinning his jeans down his legs. He blinks. That must have
been almost two hours ago.
Yup.
He blinks. Oh my- Arthur Fitzroy. Are you honestly telling me youre sitting in a bathtub full of
freezing cold water?
Arthur raises his eyebrows. Hes fairly proud that he hasnt started shivering yet. I am.
And at that point the whole gesture starts to lose its romance. Merlin is clutching at the heated
towel rail, doubled over with laughter, pants pooling around his ankles.
You- you id- you total and utter-
He snorts. Oh. My. God. Arthur.
Arthur shifts, feeling ridiculous, then winces as the cold water laps a little higher and hits his
nipples. Merlin steps toward him, still snickering and dips a hand into the icy water. He shakes his
head.
I should have waited until youd gotten in, Arthur mutters. Ungrateful-
He breaks off as Merlin takes a huge gulping breath and steps straight into the tub without
hesitating. You absolute nut- Merlins voice stops abruptly and this time, for the first time Arthur
sees properly the wash of gold in those blue eyes that mean magic.
He sucks in a breath at the sight and surges upright, sloshing water everywhere. Those eyes are -
alien. Otherworldly. Beautiful.
Even better, a half-second later he registers the steam rising from the surface of the water and
every pore in his skin pops its head up to say thankyouuuu. Ohhh.
Merlin lets out a startled half-laugh. He folds up, slow and graceful for once, eyes watchful on
Arthurs face but whatever he sees there reassures him enough to turn, stretch his legs out and lean
his back against Arthurs front. He lifts his injured leg out of the water, lets it rest on the rim of the
tub. Theyll have to change the dressing sooner rather than later.
Merlins head drops back onto Arthurs shoulder, warm breath on his neck.
Oh, Arthur sighs, and lets his head fall back against the rim. Every single kink in his muscles is
loosening. Thats wonderful. He brings one arm up, wrapping around Merlins chest, the other
slowly tracing the shape of his ear, and the room has time to go silent, rippling water finally still.
Everything settles around them, silent and complete. The water. Their home. Their life.
Then he says, This is hands-down the most wonderful feeling Ive ever had in my life.
Merlins eyebrows lift and he angles his head to look up at Arthur. Well, enjoy it, he says, wry.
I cant guarantee it will ever happen again.
Arthur just smiles, and turns his head to drop a kiss on Merlins lips. His hands tighten.
Merlin, he says softly, I really wasnt talking about the magic.



Chapter End Notes
Well, here we are at the end. Thanks to everyone who patiently waited for my
updates, I really loved hearing your reactions to each new instalment. I hope it was
worth the wait.
unpossible
Please drop by the archive and comment to let the author know if you enjoyed their work!