They're out for a walk in London when Arthur exclaims, "What the hell is that thing?!"
"Hmm?" Merlin looked up to where Arthur is pointing up at the sky with a shocked expression.
"Oh, that's an aeroplane."
"A what?" Arthur stares transfixed at the sky as the metal beast flies over them.
"An aeroplane," Merlin repeats with a small smile, "People get inside it and fly places."
Arthur's mouth hangs open. "There are people in there?"
"Yep. Dozens of them."
Merlin can't help the fond smile that spreads across his face as Arthur continues to stare after the plane that's leaving a trail of white across the sky. Ever since Arthur rose from Lake Avalon, he's been stopping to gape at every piece of new technology, from television to toothbrushes. After a lifetime using Middle Age science, every new advancement has Arthur gawking and gaping like a child in a candy store. Merlin thinks it's hilarious, and a little adorable.
"Maybe we can go on one," Merlin muses, and laughs at the way Arthur's eyes nearly bug out of their sockets.
"What, really?"
"Yeah, I bet you'd love it! It's nothing like riding a dragon, don't worry, there's seats and drinks and things."
"You mean we could go all the way up there?" Arthur asks incredulously, staring again up at the sky, where the aeroplane is now a tiny dot above the skyline.
"Of course. We could go to Australia, I bet you'd love it there!"
"Where is that?"
"South," Merlin says, "Way south."
"That sounds nice," Arthur says softly, but he doesn't seem to be listening anymore. His eyes are still glued to the sky, as if imagining what it's like to look at the world from above.
Merlin spares a few moments to savor the look of wonder on his king's face, then gently takes his hand. "Come on," he says, "I want to show you something called 'pizza.' "
The next few days does nothing to shake Arthur's fascination with planes, and Merlin finds himself bombarded with questions, like:
"Merlin, how do the planes stay up if they don't flap their wings?"
and
"Merlin, why do planes leave trails in the sky?"
and
"Merlin, how do planes get into the air in the first place?"
Merlin tries to answer them all as best he can, but his only experience is from a flight he took to Glasgow in 1963, when he was bored and curious about what all the hubbub was about, but didn't want to go very far so he could rush back at the slightest sign that Arthur was returning.
"I don't know how long they can stay up, now give me those, you've had enough," Merlin says, snatching a bag of crisps from Arthur's hands, pointedly ignoring the pout he receives.
"You said something about Australia," Arthur says, throwing his head back and stretching out on the couch. "Show me where it is?"
Merlin smiles and goes to get the globe from the bedroom. He bought it when Arthur arrived, so that Merlin could teach him all about the distant worlds that had sprung up into being in Arthur's absence.
He carries it back, already spinning it to locate Australia at the bottom.
"Australia is here– where the hell did those come from?"
"What?"
Merlin reaches out a hand and lunges for the package of crisps which have mysteriously reappeared. In a thousand years, Arthur's reflexes have stayed as sharp as ever, so Merlin ends up stumbling as Arthur easily pulls the bag away and tips the entire contents into his mouth.
"I'm the Once and Future King, Merlin, I do have some skills," Arthur says with a grin. "Now, you were saying?"
Merlin glares at him. "Australia," he says, "Is here. We'll probably go to Sydney, which is here. That's another big city, kind of like London, only different. They're big on seafood. You'd love it."
He falters as he sees Arthur's grin fade as he traces the distance between England and Australia with his eyes.
"Then again Australia's a long flight, it'd probably be boring," Merlin says quickly, and Arthur's eyes flicker. Though he would never say it, Merlin supposes Arthur wouldn't want to go somewhere so far away from what little home he's been able to build in this unfamiliar twenty-first century. Going somewhere as far as Australia might be a bit overwhelming for him.
"Somewhere closer, then. Like...Paris. Here." He points to France on the globe, and Arthur eyes the spot suspiciously. "It's a great city. And France has a lot of castles."
"Castles?" Arthur perks up at the word, looking hopeful.
"Yeah!" Merlin says brightly, "There's castles all over the place, still standing from our time. I mean, most of them have fallen to ruin, but they're still there. We could tour them all."
"Yeah," Arthur says softly, and he's adopted the dreamy expression Merlin has come to know as the one he wears when he's thinking of the old days.
"Paris, then," Merlin declares with a smile.
"Stop doing that, you're annoying people,"
"But I'm excited! We're going to be flying!"
Merlin sighs and lays a hand on Arthur's knee to stop the giddy bouncing. Ever since they went through airport security, Arthur has been uncontainably eager at the prospect of being up in the air. At one point, after gawking at the technological wonder that is airport security, (why do I have to take my shoes off? I can't very well hide a sword in there!") he had even taken Merlin's hand and dragged him through the airport, proclaiming that under no circumstances are they to be late for boarding.
"Oh gods!" Arthur exclaims breathily as the plane starts to move. He sends a quick, blinding grin in Merlin's direction, then back out to the window. Merlin chuckles. Arthur always gets giddy inside vehicles, almost unable to wrap his mind around a lump of metal moving without the aid of horses.
As the plane taxis around, Merlin can't help but smile adoringly as Arthur looks on, oblivious. After living a thousand years haunted by Arthur's horrible end, Merlin treasures each of Arthur's smiles as a miracle.
The plane picks up speed, and Arthur's knee resumes its excited bouncing underneath Merlin's hand.
"Here we go," Merlin says, and the plane lifts off the ground.
The look on Arthur's face is enough to make Merlin's heart burst, and he can't help but laugh at the way Arthur's eyes bug out of his skull. He leans over to press his head against the window, staring with his jaw slack at the land disappearing below.
"Merlin," he chokes out, "Merlin! We're flying. In the air."
"This century is amazing, isn't it?" Merlin grins.
Arthur's knee stills and he turns to look at Merlin. Merlin's smile falters as he takes in Arthur's pale face.
"Arthur, what's wrong?" He asks quickly.
"I feel," Arthur rasps, "Oh damn."
Merlin only just manages to get the paper bag open in time for Arthur to be sick into it.
"It's alright," Merlin murmurs, rubbing a soothing hand on Arthur's back. "It's just sickness, it happens. It's normal." He hands the bag to a bored looking stewardess and orders a ginger ale.
"My ears hurt," Arthur whines, rubbing at his head.
"That's your eardrums adjusting to the pressure," Merlin explains, "They'll pop in a minute and the pain will go away."
"How can people do this all the time?" Arthur groans, "This is horrible!"
"After a few minutes you'll feel better, Arthur."
"Oh god, Merlin," Arthur says, "What if- what if we crash?"
"We're not going to crash."
"But what if we do?" Arthur says, "You said this isn't held up by magic, but there's no way this thing can stay in the air for that long on its own. We're higher than the birds, Merlin, we could die!"
"The plane isn't going to fall," Merlin says patiently, gripping Arthur's knee again. "Technology these days really is great, I promise we're perfectly safe."
"But what if something goes wrong?" Merlin's smile falls completely at the sight of Arthur's face. The excitement from before has completely vanished, replaced by genuine terror.
Suddenly the plane is shaken with a harsh bout of turbulence. Merlin tucks away the high-pitched yelp to tease Arthur about later.
"Okay, so we've got a bit of a fear of flying," Merlin says, rubbing small circles on Arthur's knuckles, "That's fine. Just close your eyes until we land, okay? I'm right here, I've got you. I promise you're safe."
Arthur doesn't seem reassured, and his breathing increases in harshness as he looks out the window again. His grip turns to iron on Merlin's hand, fingernails digging into his skin.
The stewardess arrives at that moment with the ginger ale, which Merlin passes to Arthur. "Drink this," he instructs, "It will settle your stomach."
Arthur does as he is told, nose wrinkling at the bubbles in the drink.
"Merlin," He says shakily, "If something does go wrong, if we do crash, could you save everyone? With your magic?"
Merlin smiles. He hasn't used his magic in years, but he nods anyways. "Sure," He says reassuringly, "Of course I'll save your arse."
"Good." Arthur hisses as he looks out the window again, and Merlin reaches over and slams it shut.
"Go to sleep," He says, "I'll wake you when we land."
Arthur stays rigid for another few minutes, but eventually his eyes droop and his head drops to rest against Merlin's shoulder, their hands still tangled together.
Merlin presses a kiss to Arthur's hair and settles in for the flight. He taks the SkyMall magazine, full of ridiculously unnecessary technologies and tucks it into his bag for Arthur to flip through later. Arthur sleeps through it all, and Merlin doesn't wake him even when he starts to drool on his shoulder.
He finally wakes at landing, when the plane shakes with such force that Arthur nearly jumps to his feet in shock, eyes wide and at attention.
"It's over," Merlin says, nudging him with his elbow. "We're on solid ground again. Happy?"
"Right," Arthur says gruffly.
Around them people get up and go about retrieving their bags, chatting idly and queueing up to exit the plane.
"Uh, Arthur?"
"What?"
Merlin clears his throat and looks pointedly at where Arthur is still holding Merlin's hand in a vicelike grip. Arthur's jaw is clenched tight, his other hand curled in a tight fist on his thigh. Immediately Arthur clears his throat and straightens his back.
"Let's go, then," Merlin says, "Some ice cream will calm you down, yeah?"
"I'm not a child, Merlin, I'm perfectly calm."
"Right," Merlin nods. Then, "Arthur?"
"What?"
"Your fingernails are really starting to hurt."
Arthur looks down at where his fingernails are indeed digging into Merlin's skin, and jerks away quickly.
"Sorry," he coughs, "Let's just go, alright?"
Merlin laughs. "Okay, Arthur."
Arthur all but runs off the plane, posture reminiscent of times when he had to face some deadly danger back in Camelot.
Once they've retrieved their bags they step outside and get into a taxi. Merlin takes Arthur's hand again.
"On the way home we can take a ferry," He promises, giving Arthur's fingers a squeeze. "Just a big boat, no need to go up into the air."
"Why would we do that?" Arthur says defensively. Merlin smirks.
"You were scared to death on the plane, but don't worry, we don't have to do it again."
Arthur huffs. "I was not scared, I was just overwhelmed by the strangeness of it all–"
"You puked," Merlin points out. "And I really don't fancy you doing it again on the way back."
Arthur sighs. "Fine. But only because that place was too small. And it was cold. Not fit for a king at all."
"Right," Merlin says, deciding to let it go for the sake of Arthur's pride. "So, after we get to the hotel I think we should introduce you to gelato."
Arthur perks up at that– the promise of modern food never fails to cheer him up.
Merlin explains to an increasingly intrigued Arthur all about gelato and croissants and all the other wonderful food they'll eat, much better than the takeaway they eat in London. Arthur's hand stays in his as the taxi drives through the Paris streets.
Thank you for reading!