It wasn't supposed to end like this, Arthur thought as he ran his fingers through Merlin's messy hair.
Or maybe, it wasn't supposed to begin like this.
It wasn't supposed to end, so long ago, and then begin again, so suddenly, like this.
Arthur never really felt like he knew what awaited after death. He heard so many different stories growing up, but of course none of them were based in anything other than faith and hope. Now here he was, a man returned from death after 15 centuries, and he felt no closer to the truth. He didn't remember any pearly gates or fiery pits - he didn't remember anything. One moment he was dying on the river bank, clutching onto Merlin in a final act of desperation and forgiveness, and the next he was - well, being born again, Arthur assumed. He had no memory of his first few years in this life, but he imagined it all played out in the usual way. Most of this life had played out in the usual way - Arthur felt very satisfyingly normal for two full decades, until he met Merlin. Or re-met. Or whatever.
Well, actually, even their reunion wasn't anything special until Merlin offered up the pot brownies on their fourth date and Arthur's rebellious streak reared its ugly head and then - and then… and then.
Arthur still didn't know how Merlin managed to restrain himself during those first couple of days. Merlin waited for this for longer than Arthur could honestly comprehend, but the only sign that anything out of the ordinary was happening was his obvious hesitation when they parted ways after that first meeting. At the time Arthur just thought it was a combination of the harsh wind and nerves from having asked out a stranger, but looking back it was hard not to remember the slight tremor of Merlin's hand as they introduced themselves and the tears welling up in Merlin's eyes as they waved goodbye.
The first three dates were normal - well, no, they were the best three dates of Arthur's life and the speed with which his feelings for Merlin were growing was very new and strange and scary, but Arthur still felt like it was normal. He was simply falling in love - it was the most normal, natural thing he could think of.
But then Merlin invited Arthur over for a "special desert" and Arthur ended up on the floor in front of the couch, crying because he thought he might be literally losing his mind. Merlin stayed up with him the whole night, holding him and not saying much until Arthur tried to kiss him, and even then it was only a soft, "I know."
When the drugs wore off and the memories stayed, Arthur left Merlin's flat before he could have a panic attack. He drove to his childhood home, to visit his father, but - no, that wasn't Uther. There was something there, around the eyes maybe, but it was a different man, a different kind of parent.
Arthur hid in his flat for three days, replaying everything in his head. There was Gwen - and how much he loved her and wanted her and needed her. There was Morgana and Mordred and Gauis and Leon and Gwaine and - and Merlin. Merlin, and how much Arthur loved him and needed him. The wanting part was never clear - Arthur felt something, but he was the prince, and then the king, and it was a lot easier to direct all of that towards Gwen than try to figure out how to handle whatever that "something" was that he felt so deeply and so often.
Now, a millennium and a half later, Arthur no longer had to hide. He could be himself and his family and his friends and his employer and his country bore him no ill will and treated him no differently. For much of Arthur's life, that was all he thought he needed. Now, even though he would never have to, he would willingly give all of it up for moments like this.
Moments when Arthur could have Merlin all to himself in their sun-bathed bedroom on a sleepy Sunday morning after slowly and then urgently pressing their bodies together until everything was much, much too warm and they couldn't help but fall back asleep.
Moments when Arthur could hear the cat and the dog playing with each other in the living room, but they weren't yet scratching at the door or howling and yowling for food, and it felt like they were a family, and like it was home.
Moments when the whole history of this thing between them settled over Arthur and he had to hold himself back from clinging too roughly, because Merlin looked so peaceful sleeping like that, and because Arthur wasn't sure he could handle it. Merlin could handle anything - he'd been on his own for so long that Arthur couldn't bear to think about it. Bur Arthur - Arthur didn't have so many hundreds of years to dull the pain and the memories and the wild ache in his chest. He had this lifetime, and he had the last lifetime, and there was nothing in between. If he clung too much, he knew it would come crashing back down on him. His father, and Morgana, and Mordred, and… and Merlin's lies. All those years of hiding. Arthur understood, now, why it had to happen that way. Why Merlin had done what he did, and why Arthur had let him. But it hurt to think of how much space had been between them for so long.
It hurt even more to think of how much it had torn Merlin up inside.
Arthur didn't want to relive those thoughts and those moments. So he held Merlin gently and saved the aggressive clinging for when it was more useful, and more fun, like when they were writhing with each other on the bed, or on the floor, or in the shower, or up against the wall, or anywhere, really. Anywhere as long as they were together, here, finally, at last.
Merlin let out a quiet sigh as he drifted awake, coming back into this moment and away from the long, dark loneliness that Arthur knew still haunted his dreams. He shifted slightly and Arthur hugged him close for a moment before letting him go.
"Do you want breakfast?" Merlin asked around a yawn and without bothering to open his eyes.
"No," Arthur said, leaning down for a kiss. "I want you."
Merlin smiled lazily and reached out for Arthur's hand, entwining their fingers. "You've come to the right place, then."
Arthur murmured his agreement and moved closer for another kiss, their bodies slotting together and everything right and good settling around them as they did what they had been meant to do, all this time.
