Some days are harder than others. Some days Merlin is awake until 4:00 a.m. and other days he comes home and immediately falls asleep. Some days every little thing makes Merlin want to jump out of his seat and throttle his neighbor. Other days Merlin is giddy and exuberant, his words falling and tripping over each other. But those days are dangerous. One misplaced comment holds the potential to bring Merlin's world crashing down and he returns to his silent, pensive solitude. Those days are always lonely, but not always sad.
And through it all Arthur remains constant and steadfast by his side. On the late nights, Arthur stays up and reads to Merlin, if not able to tire him, then at least quieting the thoughts. They'd made it through the Harry Potter series multiple times, and all volumes of The Adventures of Sherlock Holmes. Some of the books are new, and others Merlin knows by heart. Whenever Arthur pauses to listen to Merlin's unchanging breathing, he automatically fills in the next word, waiting for Arthur to continue. Arthur reads until his voice is hoarse; Merlin had long ago stopped trying to persuade him to go to sleep. Instead, they read through the night until the sun is dawning and Arthur has to get ready for work and he knows that Merlin will be okay.
The days following are easier. Arthur returns home and the lights are off, but there's still hot water in the kettle. He'll pour himself a cup of tea and leave it sitting on the bedside to cool as he changes into his own pajamas. Somewhere under the overly large duvet is a lanky, rumpled body with black hair and Star Wars boxers, so Arthur slips under the covers. He's quiet and cautious, but it doesn't matter, because not even a train rolling through their bedroom wall would wake Merlin. As Arthur powers up his laptop to review the day's work, Merlin stirs and sidles up next to Arthur, sharing body heat and slinging an arm around Arthur's middle, burying his head in the soft shirt, desperate and needy for the comfort of touch, just to know that Arthur is there and solid and real.
The angry days are scary, because more often than not they fight. Their fights are so removed from their typical domesticity, and each statement is crafted to cut deep into the other person. Arthur realizes that Merlin is just in a mood and they'll both regret it in the morning, but it's too easy to return the snide comments with ones of his own and it hurts. It isn't really a reflection of their relationship, but in some ways it's too close, too real, and there will always be a line that can't be crossed, that forces them both to step away.
The better days come when Merlin's excitement overruns his brain. He talks and talks and bounces on the balls of his feet as he follows Arthur around the house, spouting new information he's learned and thoughts he has as soon as they occur to him. Arthur is content to just sit back and watch, smiling as Merlin's hands flounce in tandem with his words, struggling to communicate the absolute importance of the story he's telling.
But most days, Merlin and Arthur live calm, uncomplicated lives. They wake up in the morning with Merlin's head pillowed on Arthur's arm and a pleasant tingling as the blood flow returns. Merlin makes coffee for Arthur and tea for himself, even though he hates the morning and is definitely going back to sleep as soon as Arthur leaves for work. They're mostly quiet as they revolve around each other, and Arthur leaves with a gentle press of lips to Merlin's temple.
"Love you," mumbles Merlin as the door closes behind Arthur.
Merlin had just turned around to shuffle back to bed when he heard the key in the lock again. Arthur reached in quickly to grab his forgotten scarf. "Love you too."
By the time Merlin wakes up for the second time that morning, it's past lunchtime. Merlin knows that Arthur would tell him to eat, but he's not hungry, and Arthur isn't here, so instead he just opens the documents on his computer and gets to work. Merlin's a graphic artist by definition, meaning that for a "starving artist" type, he's found a decent job. But being as so means that he doesn't really need an official office, and Merlin hated the idea when Arthur suggested it. Now the spare room is Merlin's art studio, yet another thing that Merlin had begrudgingly accepted, and Merlin rotated his workstation throughout the flat. Arthur would often find stacks of sketches and printouts on the table, kitchen counter, or the sofa, and that one time he found a drawing in a tub, but they don't mention that. Before long, Merlin's sent the last sketch off to his newest client and stretches up into a cat-like yawn. It dawns on him that it's 5:00 and he's been staring at a computer screen for hours, and with any luck Arthur should be on his way from work.
Sure enough, at 5:45, Arthur walked through the door, dumping his bag in a heap while removing the layers of coats and scarves that the sudden cold snap has called for. The flat smelled like an Indian restaurant and Arthur can just barely make out Merlin humming from the kitchen. He paused in the doorway, silently appreciating the sights, smells, and sounds of home. It had been a long day, but it was finally over, and nothing was better than right now.
Arthur surprised Merlin when he walks into the kitchen. Merlin was wearing an old band t-shirt and some footy shorts of Arthur's, and when Arthur saw him at the stove stirring what had to be curry, he reached out and grabbed the waistband of the oversized shorts, pulling Merlin to him.
"Hey!" Merlin squawked. "How are you?"
"Better now," murmured Arthur as he nuzzled into the crook of his neck.
"No, no," protested Merlin, backing away from Arthur's lips and shoving a wooden spoon towards Arthur. "Curry first."
Arthur obliges and tests the sauce.
"Mmm. It is a sin for someone to be so multi-talented," he said, licking the orange residue from his top lip.
"But I," Merlin starts to correct Arthur, but Arthur grabs Merlin's face with both hands and connects their lips, shoving the heady spice of curry into his mouth.
"Yeah, definitely a sin," concluded Arthur as he pulled away, leaving one arm still around Merlin's waist and his head on Merlin's shoulder as they turn back to monitor the stove.
"Someone's feeling cheeky today," said Merlin tauntingly.
"Mhmm." Arthur could do nothing but agree. The position was so familiar and comforting, and he was mesmerized watching the orange sauce bubble over the veggies, content to stay there like that for hours.
While Arthur cleaned up the dishes, Merlin aimlessly flipped through the telly channels, searching for something to watch. Arthur heard a sharp intake of breath indicating Merlin's excitement, and before long, the whooshes and woos of the Doctor Who theme song were echoing through their flat. He chuckled as Merlin bounded into the kitchen with a pleading look on his face.
"Please, Arthur? There's a marathon on, and it's Tennant!"
Arthur obliged and let Merlin half-drag him onto the couch.
"You're wet," retorted Merlin, releasing Arthur's hand and proceeding to wipe it on Arthur's shirt.
"Well someone didn't let me properly finish doing the washing up," replied Arthur matter-of-factly.
"Posh," said Merlin, before quieting and fixing his attention on the television screen.
Arthur didn't mind watching whatever Merlin chose, really. It was more fun this way, to see Merlin react and watch as his eyes lit up in childlike anticipation. Also, it meant that Arthur was free to do things like pull Merlin into his arms and fit their bodies snugly together as his did then. He wrapped the large blanket around the both of them, the chill of the outside even permeating their walls. Merlin snuggled into the furnace of warmth that Arthur provided, but jumped when he felt the iciness of Arthur's feet.
"You need to wear socks," he admonished.
"I don't like socks," replied Arthur petulantly. "And besides, you're freezing."
"Am not!" Merlin diverted his attention from the screen momentarily to glare at Arthur.
"Are so," mumbled Arthur, who had since turned his face in towards Merlin's neck.
Merlin could feel the smile on his skin and returned to the television, lost again in a world of aliens and adventures.
As the show continued, Arthur wrapped his arms tightly around Merlin. Merlin smelled of curry and pencil shavings and his mint shampoo and the scent tickled Arthur's nose. Arthur could feel Merlin's body tremble as the events on screen intensified and he spread his hands over Merlin's stomach, slightly lifting the edge of his shirt, skating his thumbs over the pronounced hipbones. Immersed in the show, Merlin didn't notice as Arthur started traveling his lips over the joint of his neck, sucking kisses into his skin until the skin was just about to bruise. He followed with his tongue, laving the reddening skin as he made his way up to the shell of Merlin's ear. Arthur let his hands wander along with his mouth, moving further up underneath Merlin's shirt to rest over his ribcage. Merlin shivered at the warmth of Arthur's hands on his bare skin, almost encircling his entire body. Arthur's fingers slotted precisely between each protruding rib, and he could distinctly feel Merlin's breath grow ragged at the attention. Quickly, Arthur removed his hands and his mouth, bringing them back to a neutral position.
"Bastard," said Merlin breathlessly, turning around to face Arthur at the same time trying to push their bodies closer together. Arthur just closed his eyes and hummed in satisfaction.
Soon enough, the third episode had reached its conclusion and Merlin was snoring gently on Arthur's chest. To be honest, Arthur would've been perfectly happy to let them both stay that way, just watching Merlin sleep, but they weren't 17 anymore, and a night on the couch would hurt. So he extricated himself from the mass of limbs and blanket and picked Merlin up to move them both to the bedroom.
"'M not your blushing bride," protested Merlin sleepily.
"You could be," responded Arthur more thoughtfully.
As he crossed the threshold into their bedroom, he knocked Merlin's head slightly on the doorframe.
"Ow," complained Merlin.
"Hush, that didn't hurt."
"How do you know?"
"You have a thick skull."
"Prat."
"Idiot."
"Hmph." Merlin didn't respond, choosing instead to tighten his arms around Arthur's neck and bury his head into his chest.
Arthur dumped Merlin on the bed rather unceremoniously, drawing a slight whimper from the other man and went to change his own clothes.
When he returned to the bed, Arthur found Merlin sprawled spread eagle across the mattress.
"Okay, cover stealer," prompted Arthur gently. "Shove over."
Merlin rolled onto his side and made enough room for Arthur to slide behind him and pull the duvet over the both of them. Merlin was limp with exhaustion in his arms, and their bodies molded together, one fitting into the other's curves and angles. As Arthur wrapped his arms around Merlin's shoulders, Merlin shifted down, hunting for the most comfortable spot until his head rested just beneath Arthur's chin. Arthur nuzzled into Merlin's soft hair, inhaling the heady warmth, and he planted a kiss there, falling asleep entwined together.
The call came at 2:00. Arthur had been stuck in administrative meetings all morning and was about to tell his secretary to just tell whoever it was to bugger off when she said, "It's Will."
Arthur shut the door behind him as he walked into the office and picked up the phone.
"Will?"
"Arthur, you need to go home."
"Will, I swear to god if an explanation isn't out of your mouth in the next two seconds, I will jump through this phone line and,"
"It's Merlin," interrupted Will, before hurrying on when he heard Arthur's sharp intake of breath. "More precisely, Hunith. Arthur, she has cancer. I'm sorry, I can't really explain, but Merlin needs you."
"Shit," exclaimed Arthur, and hung up the phone. "Shit. Fuck. Fuck it! Helena, please hold my calls!"
Arthur flurried around the office and was out of the building with hardly a second consideration.
Merlin didn't cry. He didn't cry when Hunith phoned from the hospital and told him everything would be all right. He didn't cry when Arthur burst through the door and found him sitting naked in the tub, his hair still damp and the phone lying on the floor where he had dropped it. He didn't cry as Arthur dressed him and held him tight and whispered endearments in his ear and stroked his head. He didn't want any of it, but he couldn't muster the energy to protest and sat lifeless in Arthur's grasp, curling inward as much as possible around the strong forearms.
The first night after the call, Arthur woke to find the other side of the bed empty. He had fallen asleep sometime past midnight to the sound of Merlin's even and deep breaths. Now struggling to control his own breathing, Arthur rolled out of bed and padded swiftly towards Merlin's studio and breathing a sigh of relief when he saw him there.
A painting in the middle of the room hung askew, the canvas, once vibrant with greens and golds, was splattered with red paint. Almost as if aware of Arthur's presence, Merlin started talking out loud.
"It isn't right! I can't make it right!" His cries grew louder and louder as he flung more and more paint from his brush, the sound of it hitting the canvas punctuating every word.
Occasionally paint would rebound from the work and hit Merlin, whose pale body stood in relief in the moonlight, though streaked in messy red like some tribal warrior.
Arthur reached out a tentative hand to touch the bare shoulder, and Merlin dissolved at the feeling of rough fingertips on smooth skin. He fell to the ground, bringing Arthur down with him and the paintbrush dangled limply from between his fingers.
"There's nothing I can do, Arthur; I can't fix it!" Merlin wrapped his arms around Arthur fiercely.
"Hush, darling," whispered Arthur tenderly into Merlin's ear, and finally, Merlin cried.
Great sobs wracked his body and tore their way up from his heart and throat and he shook with dry heaves as his body tried to keep up with his grief. He clenched Arthur's soft cotton shirt and soaked it through with his tears, snot and drool and tears mixing together in a messy amalgamation of emotion.
They stayed that way for a while, until Merlin's sobs had subsided to gentle tears tracking their way down his face, and Arthur left to get a washcloth to clean the both of them. When Arthur came back, Merlin was crying more fervently again, crushing his body into a ball and Arthur could just make out a plaintive cry of, "Mama," whimpered out under the pretense of solitude. It shattered Arthur's heart, the part of it reserved solely for Merlin and everything he was, into a million fragments.
Sometime later Merlin stopped crying and they both fell asleep and when they woke again it was morning. To Arthur's deepest regret, the financial situation at work couldn't work itself out without him, and he had to go in to the office that day, so he called Gwen.
"Gwen did you talk to,"
"Will told me. I'm so sorry, Arthur. Is Merlin?" Her question went unfinished.
"No, not yet. I have to go to work today and I know you probably are just as busy, but I really need your help. I need you to be here for me, for him."
"Of course, Arthur. I'll be right over."
When Arthur hung up the phone, Merlin was leaning on the opposing wall.
"I don't need a babysitter."
"She's not a babysitter. She's Gwen, our friend."
"I'm fine, Arthur. I'm going to be fine!"
"And how am I supposed to know that?!" Arthur's voice bordered on yelling and he saw Merlin's reaction and drew back immediately. He couldn't go there, not now, not ever if he had a choice.
His mind flashed back to a time before they were Merlin and Arthur, Arthur and Merlin; when Merlin had just lost the father he never got a chance to know; when Merlin had barricaded himself in the bathroom and refused to come out, so Arthur sat by the door for 38 hours until he heard the click of the lock and Merlin came back to him. He couldn't lose Merlin then, and he certainly couldn't lose him now.
"Merlin, I'm sorry. But be nice to Gwen. She just wants to help. She loves you. I love you, okay?" Arthur entwined their fingers as he spoke, ending with a barely-there press of lips to Merlin's cool forehead.
Merlin grumbled vaguely but nodded in response.
"I'll be home soon. I promise."
And he was. By 4:00 Arthur was walking into the flat, greeted with the scene of Gwen and Merlin watching some reality cooking show that Merlin would've normally scorned. As soon as she noticed Arthur's entrance, Gwen hopped up to give him a warm embrace.
"Tea, Arthur?"
"Yes, thank you, Gwen."
"Arthur, it'll be okay, really," said Gwen, laying a comforting hand on Arthur's arm. "I need to go now, will you be alright?" This question she directed more to the both of them and Merlin rose to say goodbye.
"Thanks, Gwen," said Merlin earnestly, hugging her tightly, and when she left, they returned to their quiet dance of uncertainty.
The second night after the call, Arthur again found Merlin missing, the other side of the bed filled with a giant suitcase and various pieces of clothing. He walked into the main living area and all of the lights were on. He almost toppled over when Merlin finally rushed past holding a bundle of clothes from the laundry, and Arthur followed his path back into the bedroom.
It was like a scene from a movie, though without the happiness and overdramatized excitement. Clothes flew into almost every nook of the room in Merlin's packing frenzy.
"Merlin?" Arthur eventually reached out and grabbed Merlin's wrist.
"I need to go, Arthur. I need to go to her." Merlin's voice was full of worry and desperation.
"Okay, we'll go. Just wait until the morning."
"No, I need to go now."
"You can't even drive, Merlin."
"I'll take a train." Merlin was almost beyond the point of reason, but still Arthur persisted.
"At three in the morning? Come on, come back to sleep. We'll pack and leave first thing in the morning."
Merlin finally relented and stopped throwing things in the suitcase. Arthur cleared the bed of all paraphernalia and ran his fingers in spider-light touches from Merlin's knees to back to head and all over again until they both fell asleep.
True to his word, as soon as Arthur woke up, Merlin greeted him with a fresh cup of coffee and his packed suitcase.
The farther they drove away from the city, the happier Merlin became. His legs and shoulders relaxed and his hands unclenched and melted into the seat as they traveled. Even so, Merlin was still obviously worried, and he sat with his hands shoved under his thighs. Carefully, Arthur removed his hand from the wheel and pried Merlin's from under his leg. He skated his fingers over the imprinted flesh and the wrinkled knuckles. Sometime down the road, Merlin began tapping out a pattern on Arthur's palm, intertwining with the beat of the music and occasionally pausing to trace an invisible design.
"Thank you, Arthur," Merlin's voice was rough with disuse. "I'm sorry."
Arthur glanced over at the man beside him.
"No need," said Arthur, almost whispering. "You know that—"
"Yes, I do." Merlin answered Arthur's unspoken question, a habit they had adopted almost from the moment they met. They shared a content smile and Merlin slid slightly over the center console to lay his head on Arthur's shoulder, lulled to sleep by the rocking of the car on the road.
When Ealdor was about 15 minutes away, Merlin stirred, seemingly intrinsically aware of his home, and he woke with a sleepy smile on his face, which Arthur easily mirrored. The scene outside the window was rich and green, made even more brilliant from the recent rain. While Merlin was sleeping, Arthur had rolled down the windows and slowed the car as they plunged further into the countryside, allowing the sweet, fresh air to waft in the windows and accompany the two on their trip.
"Better?" Arthur asked, looking over at the contented smile on Merlin's face.
"Much," replied Merlin, reaching to grab Arthur's hand again and lacing their fingers together on his knee.
As soon as they pulled into the drive of Hunith's house, Arthur had just enough time to slam the car into park before Merlin was unbuckled and out of the car and racing for his childhood home. But after getting the bags from the boot, Arthur caught up with Merlin hesitating before the front door. Arthur set down one bag and placed a hand to the small of Merlin's back.
"She would've heard the car pull up," he reminded Merlin.
"I know, it's just that,"
"It's okay, Merlin."
And then the doorbell rang a melodic tune and Hunith could be heard walking up on the other side of the door. The door opened wide and Merlin didn't wait one second before he threw his arms around his mother and buried his face in her hair.
"Merlin! And Arthur! What a surprise! You didn't have to come all the way here, you know," admonished Hunith, rubbing Merlin's back as he continued to squeeze her tightly.
"Merlin, dear, I'm okay, but you can let go now."
With that Merlin was completely hands-off, though sporting a childish grin. Hunith moved over to where Arthur was bringing in the last bag and shutting the door and gave him a hug as well.
"Thank you for taking care of him," she said warmly, standing on her tiptoes to kiss his forehead.
Arthur flushed pink at the affection. He had grown up without a mother and had as consequence not been accustomed to such public displays of familial love. On hearing this Merlin had instantly offered his mother to share and Hunith had kindly welcomed Arthur as her own son.
"Tea and biscuits?" Hunith led the boys further into the house towards the kitchen.
"Mum, you shouldn't have," Merlin began.
"She didn't," called a female voice from within, and then a body was hurtling down the hall, long brown hair streaming behind.
Merlin had just enough time to cry out, "Freya!" before the girl in question had collided with him and wrapped him in a chest-crushing hug.
"Merlsy!" she exclaimed.
Arthur mouthed the word in mocking confusion at Merlin, whose head was just peeking out above Freya's shoulder.
"Shut up," he muttered, though not quietly enough.
"I certainly hope you aren't talking to me," said Freya, releasing her death grip on Merlin.
"No, no," he reassured. "That's Arthur."
"Arthur!"
Arthur had extended his hand to shake, but Freya pushed it aside and hugged Arthur as well.
"We're a hugging bunch around here," explained Hunith with an accompanying shrug from Merlin.
Arthur just laughed. "Freya, I'm glad I'm finally meeting you. I've heard quite a lot."
"Only good things, I hope," she replied, shooting a knowing glance over at Merlin.
"Nothing but the truth, Frey," retorted Merlin cheekily. "But why are you here?"
"I called her here to take me to my appointment," interrupted Hunith. "We just returned in fact."
Merlin sobered at this, but they all moved into the kitchen where there were indeed fresh mugs of tea and biscuits and the discussion was left in the past.
Arthur didn't protest when Merlin asked to sleep in his mother's bed that night, like he had so often in his childhood. His peers had made fun of his lanky uncoordinated limbs and oversized ears and he would come home crying to Hunith, who wrapped him in warm blankets and tender kisses and wiped away his tears until he fell asleep. So Arthur let him be a little boy for another night and instead stayed up late talking to Freya.
"So what do you do in Ealdor, Freya?"
"Oh, I just run the little bakery in town, but I also make deliveries for Gaius' pharmacy. You know Gaius, right?"
"Yeah, yeah I do," responded Arthur fondly.
"You love him." It came out as a statement after a while, and Arthur avoided looking at Freya at first.
"With all my heart," he agreed.
"I've never seen him so happy," Freya admitted. "Don't you dare hurt him."
"Not on my life!"
"Good," said Freya, bouncing back to her cheery disposition. "Now tell me, what's your favorite thing about him?"
"Are we teenage girls now?"
"I bet it's the sex. It's the sex, isn't it?" asked Freya conspiratorially.
"Freya!" Arthur was scandalized.
"He never shares anything," she whined. "Come on, Art, spill!"
"First of all, no—use your imagination. Secondly, no one calls me Art. Don't think I didn't notice that little nickname earlier." Arthur ticked off the list on his fingers, but he was smiling, and Freya laughed as he talked.
"I'll take your silence as a yes, then," she joked.
Arthur stayed silent. What happens in the bedroom (or the kitchen or the couch) stays there.
Even so, he crooked his finger and motioned for Freya to come closer.
"He has a very sensitive neck, and he looks gorgeous in the moonlight, all pale skin and angles, his head thrown back, begg—" Arthur whispered in her ear and enjoyed watching her jaw slowly drop open and her cheeks tinge pink before she sharply cut him off.
"You tease!" Freya squealed, covering both her and Arthur's mouth. She paused a beat, and then, "He loves you too, you know."
Arthur nodded. It was something he cherished every day of his life and not something he ever dared to take for granted.
The next morning Arthur woke before any one else in the household, a rare feat while living with Merlin. He had spent the night in Merlin's childhood room. A ceiling of painstakingly pasted and labeled glow-in-the-dark stars watched over him as he slept and he took his time in the morning, observing every item that had been a part of Merlin's life before Arthur. A row of books stood in careful order on a bookshelf, their bindings lovingly cracked and their pages worn from use. Another shelf held a stack of certificates and awards for Merlin's academics and art. As he got to the bottom of the stack, Arthur found an old sketchbook, discarded and forgotten. He hesitated at first, then flipped through the first few pages. All of the sketches were close-ups. A fragment of an eye here, an upturned lip there. A hand grasping, toes clenching, an extensive study in anatomy. Though the sketches were separate, it was obvious that they all derived from the same model, and Arthur had spent enough time worshipping Merlin's body to recognize it even in this form. Eventually Arthur heard the stove click to life and the toilet water running, and he tucked the notebook back under the papers and descended down the stairs.
In the hallway he ran into Merlin, who immediately grasped his hand and half-dragged him into the kitchen.
"There are my boys," cooed Hunith. "Did you sleep well, Arthur?"
"Yes, thank you."
"And Freya?"
"Is right here," stated the girl in question, flitting in to the kitchen and grabbing a piece of toast from the counter. "I stopped by the bakery on the way here," she said, setting down a jelly jar with a checkered lid.
"Arthur, you need to try this now," demanded Merlin. "Hands down the best strawberry jam I've ever had."
Arthur doubted the number of jams Merlin had tried to be able to declare this one the best, but an initial taste test corroborated the claim.
As they were cleaning up, Hunith announced, "Now Merlin, I have another appointment today, so I don't know if you want to—"
"Arthur can take you," he crowed. "And I'll stay here with Freya, if that's alright."
"I have to work today, Merlin, but you're welcome to come along. There's still an apron in the back with your name on it." Freya goaded Merlin with a twinkle in her eyes.
"No thanks," Merlin replied sardonically. "Though I could use an espresso. They just can't get it right in London."
"And I will go wherever you need me," said Arthur to Hunith.
"Then we're set," surmised Merlin cheerfully.
Arthur and Hunith were quiet on the way to the hospital; they sat in a comfortable silence as they drove through the winding streets into the small town. Hunith didn't say much other than polite small talk until after the doctor had situated the IV.
"You make him happy," she told Arthur with a serious expression on her pallid face.
"So I've been told," replied Arthur, thinking back to Freya's words the previous night.
"Arthur, I mean it," repeated Hunith earnestly. "You mean more to him than anything, and he doesn't even need to tell me. Everything shows itself plainly, and I see the way you both look at each other. I just wish I would have the opportunity to see the two of you continue on with each other." Hunith trailed off then, leaving Arthur to consider her statements. Continue on... Arthur had never even thought that there would be an end, and if he had a say, there wouldn't be, but he had always just lived day-to-day, with no thought for the future.
"You should go, Arthur. This will take some time, and Ealdor's a lovely town," said Hunith, breaking Arthur out of his reverie.
So he went, walking aimlessly into the center of town. Once, a very long time ago, a young Arthur had asked his father how he had known his mother was the one. He had replied, "Because I loved her more than myself, and the thought of her rejection scared me more than anything else in the world, and I realized I would go to any lengths to pursue her."
Marriage had lost its charm sometime after the third wife and stepmother, and Arthur had always been happy with what he and Merlin had, but could there be something more?
Before long Arthur found himself leaving the cobblestone street and walking into a jewelry store. He wandered aimlessly about the clear glass cases, sparkling with silver and gold.
"Arthur!" He turned around to see Freya speed walking up to him.
"I thought you worked," he began.
"At the bakery!" she confirmed, motioning towards her apron. "Which happens to be right next door to the jewelry store. But why are you at a jewelry—oh!" Freya stopped her monologue and her eyes widened in understanding. "Ooh," she repeated excitedly.
"Are you?"
"Yes," hissed Arthur, wanting her to keep her voice low, but it was too late. An old man walked out from the back room.
"Hello, Freya," said the man.
"Hi, Mr. Kilgarrah."
"Engagement rings, eh? Are you looking?"
"Oh no, not me. He is," she said hurriedly, pointing at Arthur, who looked perfectly like a deer in headlights.
"Aah. And who's the lucky girl?"
"Um," Arthur hesitated, fumbling for words.
"Or boy?" Kilgarrah prompted again.
"It's Merlin," blurted Freya helpfully.
"Oh, then you must be Arthur," mused Kilgarrah.
"Isn't he lovely?" Freya took Arthur's face, presenting it to Kilgarrah like a work of art, but Kilgarrah ignored her. "I will be getting back to the bakery, but stop by before you leave, Arthur!" And she was gone, floating out the door as quickly as she had entered it.
"Hmm..." Kilgarrah mumbled to himself as he puttered around the store, opening various cases then shaking his head and closing them again.
Arthur cleared his throat, thoroughly uncomfortable.
"One moment, Arthur. Aha, here it is." He held up a ring to the light then walked back over to the counter where Arthur stood. "This will be it then?"
Arthur stared in awe at the ring on the glass in front of him. Plain silver wrapped around itself in indeterminable patterns.
"But—"
"I've known Merlin since he was a young child," explained Kilgarrah. "I don't need to know anything else, just that you love each other, which is painfully obvious."
Arthur was shocked, but made his purchase and walked over to the bakery, picking up Merlin's favorite apple tart—"He loves it," swore Freya—on his way back to the hospital.
The smell of baked goods filled the car as Arthur and Hunith drove back to the house.
"Freya recommended it," Arthur said by way of explanation. "And Merlin wasn't lying, that coffee was fantastic."
"Good, I'm glad you visited, despite the circumstances.
"Me too."
As soon as they crossed the threshold, it only took Merlin one glance at the package in Arthur's hands before he was dragging them further into the house.
"You are magic," he declared, pecking his mother on the cheek and giving Arthur a sloppily enthusiastic kiss. Merlin tasted of sugar and coffee.
They all sat around the kitchen with mugs of tea and a roast in the oven and Merlin launched into another one of his tales, recounting the exploits of the day.
That night Merlin slept in his childhood bed again with Arthur.
"This bed was more comfortable with just one person," commented Arthur, trying desperately to punch the pillow into a better shape.
"I can go sleep with my mother again if it makes you more happy," replied Merlin, making to leave the bed when Arthur reached out and pulled him back against his own body.
"Oh no you don't," growled Arthur, burying his face in Merlin's neck.
Merlin burst out laughing, throwing his head back and then stilling, looking over at Arthur, who was still smiling widely.
Instead of saying anything to disrupt the moment, Merlin tucked his head into the pocket of Arthur's chin and chest. His hot breath dampening a spot on Arthur's shirt, he inhaled the warmth.
"Mine," he whispered, the word barely audible, but the familiar movement of lips against skins told Arthur more than the sound itself and Arthur kissed the top of Merlin's head.
The next day, Merlin insisted on showing Arthur around Ealdor. After a coffee and pastry at Freya's they ended up in a large, green field, fenced in by trees and a small pond.
"I used to play here as a child," reminisced Merlin. "Mum would pack picnics and we would walk out here and spend the whole day. She would point out the flowers and trees, naming them for me and showing me their differences; I would bring her back sticks and rocks. And then when we were both too tired to stand anymore, we would lie down and watch the clouds. She used to make up stories for me, illustrating the fluffy characters as they evolved with the wind." Merlin went silent for a while and then, "Come on, Arthur!"
They sat down on the plush grass, their bodies touching from shoulder to hip to knee to foot.
"See that one there?" asked Merlin.
"I see an upside down turtle with its mouth open," guessed Arthur.
"It's a spaceship coming to abduct humans," replied Merlin indignantly.
"You have a skewed sense of the world, Merlin Emrys."
"No more skewed than he who saw an upside down turtle!"
Arthur smiled fondly at the man beside him, at the way the corners of his eyes crinkled as he laughed and his perfectly straight teeth smiled widely for Arthur and only Arthur. Merlin looked back at him when he realized he was silent.
"What?" asked Merlin, somewhat concerned.
But Arthur just shook his head, not even sure himself how to describe what he was feeling in that moment.
Indignantly, Merlin rolled on top of Arthur, pressing his own lips on top of Arthur's. Arthur started to push back but Merlin slid his tongue over Arthur's bottom lip and a moan fell unbidden from Arthur's mouth. Arthur could feel as Merlin smiled and then licked deeper into Arthur's mouth, roaming, exploring, as if every ridge and nook were brand new to him, yet at the same time working his lips in a way that had Arthur panting within moments. Determined to regain control, Arthur took advantage of Merlin's distraction and flipped them so that Arthur completely enveloped Merlin, pressing him into the slightly damp earth. He earned a quick yelp of surprise from Merlin and Merlin detached his lips from Arthur, instead latching on to his collarbone and giving a sharp nip to the tender skin there.
"Bastard," muttered Arthur, pressing sloppy kisses all over Merlin's jaw.
Merlin didn't reply, just a disgruntled harrumph and then he was sucking a bruise on Arthur's neck, unyielding mouth most certainly leaving a noticeable mark.
"Your mother will see," reminded Arthur.
"I don't care," said Merlin, finally breaking away from Arthur's body and bringing him down again for a gentler kiss.
Arthur shifted slightly off of Merlin's torso and slid a hand under his shirt. His fingers tiptoed a path from navel to shoulder to just above Merlin's heart. And then he began to write.
Merlin was silent, for once, studying Arthur's face as he outlined the words on Merlin's chest. When he finished, Merlin asked, "What does it say?"
Arthur didn't respond immediately, and Merlin didn't press. They sat up again, still pressed against each other.
"It says I love you," started Arthur. "It says I love you and your Star Wars boxers and bed head. I love your paint-stained fingers and the art you draw on my body. I love how your eyes light up when you're happy and I love how you come to me when you're sad. It says I love everything about you and everything you love. It says marry me."
And just like that the world stopped spinning. Arthur's sight narrowed to Merlin and he was overly aware of the frantic rise and fall of his own chest.
"Of course, you idiot."
Arthur's breath came out half-choked with laughter and relief as Merlin started peppering him with feather-light kisses.
"Hold on," said Arthur. "I have..."
He trailed off, fumbling in his coat that had been laid off to the side when they sat down until he found the box.
"I know you're not, I mean I hope, I just thought—" Arthur struggled to express the sentiment, but Merlin's pupils grew wide when he saw the silver band, which was encouragement enough to go on.
"The left ring finger is the only finger that has a vein that goes directly to the heart," said Merlin as Arthur slotted the ring into place.
"Oh really?"
"Mhmm."
And Merlin tackled Arthur to the ground, kissing him with open-mouthed eagerness.
They talked about it on the way home.
"When do you want to have the ceremony? Or do you even want a ceremony?" asked Merlin. The conversation was fraught with confusion and timidity.
"I thought we could have it here, soon, so your mother could be there," replied Arthur, and Merlin wordlessly agreed.
"Small," Merlin added. "Just friends and family."
Arthur nodded.
"Oh, and now we have to tell everybody!" exclaimed Merlin.
"Freya already knows," put in Arthur. "She helped me, in a way."
Hunith was predictably ecstatic when they told her, adding, "But you don't have to do this so soon for me! It should be a special day!"
"It will be," affirmed Merlin.
Luckily for Merlin, within one business day the entire population of Ealdor had been informed of his impending wedding, all thanks to Freya, despite Merlin's pleas for her to keep her mouth shut for just this once.
All that was left for Merlin was to call Gwen, who squealed into the phone when she heard the news and asked if she could tell Lance, her newest romantic acquisition.
Arthur called his half-sister Morgana first.
"If you aren't calling me to tell me you've proposed, then you can hang up now," she said as greeting when she picked up the phone. Morgana had been pestering Arthur for ages, along with Gwen.
"I'm not hanging up," said Arthur.
"Oh good, it's about time." Morgana paused, obviously hesitating before her next sentence. "Have you told Uther, yet?"
"No," Arthur replied.
"He deserves to know."
In Arthur's opinion, Uther, who had never explicitly approved or disapproved of his relationship with Merlin, deserved absolutely nothing.
"What father doesn't know won't hurt him," said Arthur petulantly. As long as Arthur kept his "particular proclivities" on the down low and kept working for his father, their relationship worked, for the most part.
"He'll find out eventually. And wouldn't you want to be the one in control of that information delivery, instead of someone else who might slip in, say, some choice scandalous details?" Morgana's voice slipped silky and devilish through the phone line.
"You wouldn't," threatened Arthur, though he knew she would in a heartbeat. Moreover, he knew it was best.
Morgana just laughed as Arthur contemplated his choices.
"I'm proud of you, Arthur. Now, enjoy the rest of your trip, and give Merlin my love."
The next call Arthur made was to Gwaine, who, by the raucous laughter and chatter coming through the speaker, was currently hosting one of his infamous parties.
"Everybody shut up! 'S Arthur," slurred Gwaine slightly.
"We're getting married," said Arthur.
"We're getting married?" echoed Gwaine confusedly.
"No," Arthur laughed. "I proposed to Merlin. We're getting married."
"Fucking finally," Arthur heard Gwaine say under his breath. "Merlin and Arthur are tying the knot!" exclaimed Gwaine to the general population of his party, to a chorus of drunken cheers.
"Congrats, mate," said Gwaine more quietly.
"Thanks. I'll be back in the city soon, we'll talk then."
Arthur hung up the phone, but didn't shut it off. Ultimately, Morgana was right—he should tell Uther now, if only out of respect.
So he dialed the familiar yet alien number and crossed his fingers for voicemail.
Alas, Arthur's luck seemed to be running low.
"Pendragon Press, this is Mary." Mary was Uther's secretary.
"Mary, it's Arthur. Could you leave a message for my father?"
"He's just in the office, dear. Hold on and I'll patch you over."
Arthur tried to interrupt her before she could transfer the call, but before he knew it he was hearing the work-weary timbre of his father's voice.
"Uther Pendragon?" Uther held a slight lift to the end of his question, though far from his usual commanding presence.
"Father," Arthur hesitated, clearing his throat. "I thought I should inform you that I've decided to marry Merlin."
"Mhmm. And has he said yes?"
Arthur almost laughed in relief as his father took the news without second thought.
"Yes, of course."
"Well then, I'm proud of you. Though I could say otherwise regarding your work attendance lately..." And then Uther was overstaying the call's welcome.
"Goodbye, father."
Arthur could almost hear the faint smile gracing Uther's face at his son's childishness before the line clicked dead.
"Done?" asked Merlin as Arthur let out a sigh.
"Finally."
"Gwaine and company?"
"Inebriated and informed."
"The Pendragons?"
"Mmm." Arthur gave a noncommittal grunt at that and pulled Merlin in tight to himself. "We should've just eloped," he grumbled.
"Too late," said Merlin. "We couldn't disappoint Freya, of course."
"Of course," agreed Arthur, going along with Merlin's joking tone.
Eventually Arthur had to go back to London, so he packed his bags with Merlin's promise to be home on the train as soon as the week was up.
Their flat was empty, but not uncomfortable when Arthur returned, still in the exact state it had been when they left.
Before tucking in for the night, Arthur roamed around the flat, picking up mugs and folding blankets until the space held some resemblance of organization again. He fell asleep in their large bed, cherishing the mobility of the space yet missing the warmth of Merlin's body wrapping tightly around his own.
Arthur arrived at his office the next day to find a card and a coffee on his desk and a body in his chair.
"Finally," huffed Gwaine, swinging his legs down from Arthur's desk and giving him a once over from behind his dark sunglasses. "You look like shit."
"I can't say you look much better yourself," retorted Arthur in stride, taking a gulp of the coffee and grimacing at its bitterness. "How many paracetamols have you taken?"
"Five," said Gwaine, thinking back.
"Here," said Arthur, shoving the coffee cup into Gwaine's hand. "You need this more than me. And don't you have work to get to?"
"I called in sick," explained Gwaine.
Arthur laughed dryly. "If I was your boss, I'd fire you."
"Ah, but you are not, and my boss happened to be in attendance last night," replied Gwaine satisfactorily.
Shaking his head, Arthur motioned to the envelope on the desk.
"What is it?"
"Dunno. Was here when I got here."
Tentatively Arthur opened the envelope, finding brightly colored card stock inside.
"Congratulations on your engagement!" it proclaimed in curling font, and at least 20 signatures surrounded the words. Obviously word had spread to his office.
"Popular man," commented Gwaine.
"Eloping looks more and more attractive," Arthur muttered, ignoring Gwaine. "Are you going to be useful today or are you just going to drink my coffee and take my chair?"
In response Gwaine moved to the other side of the desk to the admittedly much less comfortable office chair.
"I'm yours for the day," he said.
"Fine. Here, read this." Arthur plopped down the newest manuscript in front of Gwaine and slapped a red pen on top.
As Gwaine picked it up and started flipping the pages, Arthur continued.
"This new author is so damn entitled. I can't read one more paragraph about how the bird shit in this girl's hair is a metaphor for life."
And so they settled down into a routine. Arthur scanned the spreadsheets for finances and returned the slew of emails that had accumulated in his absence, and Gwaine suffered through the manuscript, terrorizing the pages with red ink and occasionally sharing particularly abhorrent passages. Gwaine worked the next few days, but he was back in Arthur's office on Friday.
"Seriously. You would be fired," repeated Arthur as he moved Gwaine's feet off of his desk yet again. "And I have to leave early to pick up Merlin from the train station."
"I'll stay until then," responded Gwaine.
The train was late. Arthur sat at the platform bench and checked his watch against the station clock until the train was screeching to a halt. Merlin emerged from the doors with a wild grin, almost bouncing over to give Arthur an enthusiastic embrace.
"Missed you," he quipped, planting a peck on Arthur's lips.
"It's been 4 days!"
"Too long."
Gwen came over for dinner the next day and brought along Lance. As it turned out, Arthur and Lance had been in the same circle of friends in uni, and the conversation dove into reminiscences of the past, with Gwen and Merlin occasionally interjecting, correcting the somewhat overindulgent tales of their respective partners.
"Great to meet you Merlin, and see you again, Arthur," said Lance on the way out, and the men responded in kind.
"Call anytime," reminded Gwen. "Oh, and I brought these along just in case..." She trailed off and pulled a stack of magazines. Wedding magazines. "I know you're probably too busy or whatever, but I just thought I'd leave them here. Bye!"
Arthur eyed the magazines warily as they cleaned up the dishes.
"I know what you're thinking, Pendragon," said Merlin, flicking water droplets at Arthur.
"Merlinnn," whined Arthur.
"No, be quiet. The wedding will be fantastic and then it will be over, so you'll be happy again."
"Hmm," Arthur didn't disagree with that. "Are you going to make it worth my while?"
Merlin surged up into Arthur's arms in response, licking his way into his mouth, carefully and skillfully drawing out a minute moan.
"Every second of everyday," promised Merlin between kisses, taking a step forward with every press of lips until Arthur backed up into the kitchen counter with a small "Oof."
"Sorry," said Merlin distractedly.
"No you're not," replied Arthur, panting now as Merlin latched his lips onto Arthur's jaw and neck and shoulder.
Arthur's shirt was damp where Merlin had fisted his hands in it to gain leverage, and it chilled his skin where it rested.
Quickly Merlin's deft fingers were working their way up Arthur's chest, warming the skin. Arthur slipped one hand around Merlin's hip and drew him closer, bringing his other hand to rest on the pale expanse of smooth cheeks and delivering a bruising kiss.
As their hips met, their erections were painfully evident, and the shocking contact of skin had them fumbling at each other's belts, getting more in the way than anything else.
Finally both men were divested of their clothing, but they had not left their position on the counter, nor had they made any intention to do so.
"We're still in the kitchen," Arthur panted out between a breathy moan.
"Shut up," growled Merlin, rutting up against Arthur like a horny teenager just trying to get a quick one-off.
Arthur dug his fingers into Merlin's skin where the hipbone jutted out as the pleasure swirled inside of him, curling his toes and making him greedy for the taste of Merlin's lips.
Merlin responded in kind, pressing harder against the sharp lines of Arthur's body and frantically running his hands over Arthur's spine.
The kitchen was silent except for their heavy breaths and moans, and when they came, Merlin slumped over the both of them as they caught their breath.
"Told you it was too long," said Merlin cheekily.
"You idiot." Arthur's voice was low and fond as he smoothed out Merlin's sweat plastered hair, admiring the pink flush that had arisen underneath the skin.
"Bed?" Merlin's question came out as more of a statement, and Arthur heartily agreed, leaving the dishes half-done in the sink, which he knew he would come to regret in the morning.
The next few months passed in a flurry of contented business, not unlike life "before," as Arthur had dubbed it.
Merlin returned to his graphics and soon colorful papers are littering their apartment once again. Arthur went to work and came home every day at the same time and they cooked and laughed and smiled and at night Arthur arches up into Merlin's touch, and Merlin immortalizes the image, searing it into his brain.
They say "I love you" enough to compensate for the years they lived without it. In whispers at night before falling asleep, shouted through doors as Arthur leaves for work, said over the phone with an invisible smile, written in cool touch over feverish skin. Every second of every day and is preoccupied with their love for each other.
For three months they carry on in this fashion. Arthur is mocked by Gwaine, who still comes into the office more frequently than his own, and the irrefutably terrible book is edited and shipped off for limited publication and distribution. Gwen flits between Merlin and Lance until they both are fed up with her overenthusiastic excitement. But in the end, decisions are made and bags are packed and Merlin and Arthur are once again making their way through the countryside to Ealdor.
Hunith teared up slightly when she saw them, but nonetheless met them on the drive and tried to assist them in carrying their bags, to no avail. Freya was equally eager and embraced both men with equal vigor.
"You should hear what everyone's saying in town," she touted.
"Do I really want to?" asked Arthur.
Freya paused to think and decided on no, shaking her head vehemently, making Merlin laugh.
"The inn's almost booked full," Hunith informed them.
"Is Will here yet?" asked Merlin.
"Regrettably," yelled Will jokingly from behind a stack of boxes that he was carrying inside, uncharacteristically punctual. "I'd shake your hand, Arthur, but..."
Despite having spoken on the phone and popping in for Skype chats, Will and Arthur had never met each other, a practical improbability what with Merlin's adoration for them both.
"Please, continue on," insisted Arthur. "I'll just be upstairs, Merlin." He planted a tender kiss to Merlin's temple and bounded up the staircase, suitcases in hand.
True to his word, Arthur returned shortly to find Freya and Merlin already busy making some pastry concoction while Will snuck dough from the bowl. Arthur went to stand by Hunith, who was sitting and sipping her tea, quietly observing the antics taking place.
"How are you?" he asked quietly.
"Well enough," she responded, but Arthur suspected she was being slightly less than honest.
After leaving a comforting touch to her shoulder, Arthur made his way over to Merlin, where a ruthless war with flour was currently being waged.
Merlin was cowering behind his makeshift apron shield, and Freya raised the wooden spoon ominously as Will scurried off with telltale white-stained fingertips.
"And keep your hands out of my dough," threatened Freya.
"Freya, I think you missed a spot," interjected Arthur, pointing to Merlin's still unharmed mop of hair peeking out above the apron.
Freya's eyes gleamed with mischief as they both grabbed a handful of flour and rushed at Merlin.
"You'll pay for that, Pendragon," Merlin squealed as a large hand clapped over his head and flour rained down around him. He abandoned the apron in favor of more flour and soon the three of them were covered in chalky handprints.
Hunith interrupted the melee.
"Go get clean, all of you," she said. "You're of no use to anyone like this."
Reluctantly they obliged, ceding to the motherly influence.
"Merlin, you can use my shower."
"Mum," Merlin whined.
"No. I don't care if you are two consenting adults who happen to be getting married in one day. My. Shower."
Merlin rolled his eyes, but Arthur kissed him in consolation.
"Best not upset mother," he whispered.
"Don't think I didn't hear that, Arthur Pendragon," chided Hunith.
Arthur blushed and laughed, obediently making his way upstairs to the guest bathroom.
That night, Merlin nuzzled into the pocket of Arthur's warmth.
"You smell nice," he said, inhaling deeply.
"Oh really?" Arthur questioned.
"Mhmm."
Arthur had used the soap Merlin left last time they had visited.
"Well you smell like flowers," mocked Arthur.
Merlin turned his head up to look at Arthur, seeing the fond smile there, and a flush rose on his cheeks.
"It's my mother's," he mumbled.
"I know," said Arthur, pecking Merlin's forehead. "It's endearing."
"Shuttit," slurred Merlin, already half-asleep.
Arthur turned on his side and piled the covers up near their ears. He curled his body around Merlin's, easily fitting his arms over his ribcage and covering Merlin's heart with his hand.
Tomorrow, was the last thought in both of their minds.
Arthur woke up to an empty bed.
"Ominous day," mused Merlin from his position by the window, noticing that Arthur was awake.
"You have very strange sleeping patterns," said Arthur, coming over to rest his chin on Merlin's shoulder. "Also, it's sunny and beautiful."
"I know," agreed Merlin. "It's ominous."
Arthur shook his head minutely. Six years and Merlin was still indecipherable.
"I'm going to make some coffee. Do you want anything?" asked Arthur.
"No, thank you, but wait, pants!" Merlin threw Arthur's boxers at him before he left the room.
"Cheers," laughed Arthur, and descended the stairs.
The entire household was already a buzz of activity when Arthur walked in. He thought he caught a flash of Freya's brown hair, but he couldn't be sure. And then, just around the corner, "Gwen!"
"Oh, Arthur, you're here! But where's Merlin?"
"Upstairs. Um, could I..."
"You're not dressed yet?!" Hunith burst into the conversation with a frantic look. Her usually composed bun had flyaways sticking out everywhere. But she didn't waste time for Arthur's reply, instead shoving two warm mugs into his empty hands and turning him about face. "Both of you, get ready now! There are things to do!"
Though her voice held urgency, it was obvious she was motivated by excitement and compassion for Merlin and Arthur.
"It's a war zone," warned Arthur as he set down the mugs of coffee on the bedside table. Merlin had inevitably fallen asleep again, so Arthur took to peppering kisses all over his face—on his eyelids, his nose, his cheekbones, his Cupid's bow—until Merlin finally stirred.
"Do you wanna get married?" asked Arthur cheekily, and he allowed Merlin to hit him with a pillow as expected, followed by a sloppy enthusiastic kiss.
They got dressed in relative silence, listening to the bustling noises of preparation from the floor below. Arthur struggled with his tie, glancing enviously at Merlin's already perfected bow tie.
"Here." Merlin's fingers replaced Arthur's fumbling ones and tied the knot in swift, sure movements, folding the white collar back over the loop of the tie.
Arthur returned the favor, wetting his fingers and trying to smooth out the stubborn hairs sticking up in all directions.
"Thanks," said Merlin, flattening his own hands over his hair sheepishly.
"Oh, stop," chided Arthur, silencing Merlin with a kiss.
Merlin brought his hands around to the small of Arthur's back, fisting them slightly in the fabric. They broke apart when they heard a soft chuckle from the doorway.
"You'll make it wrinkle," pointed out Lance, who was leaning against the doorframe with cool composure. "I'm supposed to tell you the cars are here, but by all means, continue. It's your wedding."
Merlin flushed as Arthur laughed.
"We're coming," said Arthur, and they followed Lance to the front of the house.
In the car, Arthur's phone buzzed a notification.
From Gwaine, the text read, "We're here."
Arthur showed the message to Merlin, who showed one of his own from Will.
Merlin's hand jumped on Arthur's knee, and Arthur grasped it tightly until they reached the area.
They walked down the aisle together, that had been Merlin's condition.
They said their own vows, that had been Arthur's condition.
As they reached the arch, they scanned the audience, seeing faces of friends and family smiling back at them, Hunith's face split wide with a grin. Merlin and Arthur turned back towards each other at last, and linked their hands.
Merlin began.
"When I met you, you were an insufferable prat." The crowd laughed uncertainly. "And you still are from time to time, but out of all of that, you are mine. You never left my side and you were the strength that I could not muster, and I couldn't count how often I wished I could be the same for you. Today is more than our day, because I have always and will always love you, and I want nothing more than for everyone here today and everyone in the world to know how much I love you and how much you have stolen my heart. You have coaxed the very soul from my body and enveloped it with your own. Ours is a bond that will never be broken."
Merlin finished by sliding an intricate band of silver onto Arthur's finger.
"Idiot," mouthed Arthur silently as Merlin met his eyes, both sets glassy with tears.
And then it was Arthur's turn.
"I knew from the day I saw your ridiculously large ears, that you would be in my life forever. Your life entwined itself inextricably with mine, and here it remains today. I've written you a thousand love notes and not one of them can explain how much I cherish every single part of you. I would wish that everyone in the world could see you through my eyes, but I am a selfish man, and I choose to keep you for myself, until the end of time. It is truly for better or worse that I am marrying you, Merlin Emrys. Ours is a bond that will never be broken."
With the repetition of the phrase, Arthur released Merlin's hand only to slide the silver ring on, which had only been taken off for this day.
"It is with my sincerest joy that I present to you Arthur Pendragon and Merlin Emrys, husbands for life."
The audience burst out in applause as Kilgarrah made the declaration, watery eyes all around.
Arthur was just watching the crowd when he felt an insistent tug at his hand and then Merlin's lips were crashing into his own and the applause swelled.
The congratulations appeared in rapid succession, and Arthur's head was spinning from all of the introductions.
"Merlin," Hunith cooed as she approached them, supported somewhat by Freya at her side.
Arthur stepped back slightly to give the mother and son their privacy, but Hunith quickly dragged him over into the shared embrace.
"Thank you so much," she said, choking out the words over tears. "All I wanted was to see Merlin happy and now you've done it, Arthur. He relies on you now, and you rely on each other. I will never be able to repay the opportunity to see this wedding. Thank you."
Predictably, the three were all in tears, but they shared a tissue and dispersed into the jovial crowd.
"Ahem!" Gwaine clinked his glass and cleared his throat to get the crowd's attention. "So, um, I haven't known Merlin or Arthur for as long as a lot of you have, but it was evident from the moment I did meet them that they were hopelessly in love, even if they didn't know it yet. Since then I've seen them go from acquaintances to roommates to desperately pining idiots to boyfriends and now this. Anyone who can tie down Arthur Pendragon is deserving of my admiration. Congratulations to them both!"
Gwaine sat down to a chorus of cheers and a nod of appreciation from both Merlin and Arthur.
Their first dance was a slow, lilting number, but it all faded into the background as Arthur pulled Merlin onto the dance floor and into his arms. Merlin tucked into the nooks of Arthur's body and closed his eyes. They swayed on the spot, just barely in time with the music and bathed themselves in the comfort of the moment.
"I love you," murmured Merlin.
"I love you too," said Arthur, his voice barely above a whisper, before sweeping in for a searing kiss. Arthur was aware of a few catcalls, probably Gwaine and Will, so he just kissed Merlin even deeper, sliding his tongue along Merlin's enough to call it downright filthy, but neither one of them cared.
Eventually they came up for air and the song ended and they retook their places, allowing the evening to proceed.
Though Uther didn't attend, Morgana did, and she handed Arthur an envelope from their father, adamant that he take it. Leon spent the night staring at Arthur's sister with increasing levels of obviousness. Gwaine and his plus one, Elena, who was "just his friend" but also more than friends at the same time, made sure that the dance floor was never bare and no glass was ever empty. Merlin greeted neighbors and friends that he hadn't seen since he left Ealdor, and soon Arthur felt comfortable with the entire population of the small town.
"Are you ready?" asked Arthur tentatively.
And Merlin realized he was.
They fled the reception to Gwaine's advice, "Don't do anything I wouldn't do!"
On the car trip back to the inn where they would be staying for the night, Arthur rolled the cool metal of his ring between his fingers.
"How did you find it?" he asked.
"Well, after you gave me mine, I knew I had to find something to match it, so I worked with Kilgarrah and, um, designed it. For you," finished Merlin somewhat bashfully.
Arthur beamed at the care Merlin had devoted.
"It's perfect," whispered Arthur reverently.
By the time they made it to the inn, Arthur couldn't keep his hands off of Merlin any longer. They paused at their door, and Merlin was behind Arthur, placing kisses all over his neck, and Arthur's shaking hands fumbled the key, and Arthur dragged Merlin inside when it opened. Merlin quickly slid Arthur's jacket off and pushed them both against the door, attacking Arthur's mouth with fervor.
"Christ, Merlin," Arthur said, breathless as Merlin slid his knee between Arthur's legs and continued the unforgiving trail of kisses he was leaving on his jaw. "Impatient are we?"
At that Merlin left a particularly sharp nip at the joint of his jaw and neck.
"You were the one who couldn't even wait for the room," protested Merlin, his breath catching as Arthur ground against his leg.
"Do you think you could wait for the bed?" Arthur's voice went low and seductive, even as his hands betrayed his words, sliding against Merlin's torso to undo the buttons there.
"Shit." Merlin cursed as his arousal grew painfully hard in his trousers. "Yes. Bed. Now." His words were incoherent.
It was a slow path to the bedroom as they feverishly tried to undress each other. Arthur fingered the bow tie reverently before tossing it aside to lave at Merlin's pale neck.
Finally they had successfully stripped and made it to the large bed. Somehow along the way Arthur had picked Merlin up slightly, so when the backs of his knees his the bed, he immediately fell into it, tossing Merlin with him onto the bed. Merlin stayed sprawled there, appreciating the cushy fabrics.
"We should get a bed like this," he mused absently.
"Oh really?" Arthur rolled on top of Merlin, silencing him with a kiss as the feel of skin on skin overwhelmed them both. Merlin let his hands drift all over Arthur's body, remapping the dips and curves of his strong back and memorizing the new sensation of cold metal against hot skin as Arthur's own fingers carded through Merlin's hair and clasped around his neck.
"I don't think they'll want it when we're done," said Arthur, before turning off the light.