The Golden Age Indeed
A/N [show-me-your-tardis]
Plot – Arthur has lost Merlin. Arthur, himself, is lost. Forget battling knights and murderous witches, this is true fear. Modern AU.
Day Seven: The Golden Age
A small ficlet written for Merthur Party 2013 on Tumblr. Too many words to be drabble, not enough words to be a fic.
If you enjoy this, why not read my other Merthur Party 2013 fic, Interruptions, hah.
ENJOY!
"Merlin?" Arthur shouted for the third time.
Several angry faces turned to look at him, none of them Merlin's.
If only they knew who he was, they wouldn't look at him like that. They would help him. He was the the King of Camelot and he was lost. A bubble of fear threatened to explode in his chest. There was a loud pounding in his ears, and a small voice in his head telling him he'd been abandoned.
This was a bright and colourful place, and this was a confusing place. It contained rows and rows of things he didn't recognise, items he couldn't have even imagined, with garish signs on every post. Occasionally a bell would ring loudly (making Arthur jump everytime) followed by an invisible voice talking about money, or gold, or something.
People milled around, some with metal contraptions in front of them, picking items from the shelves and inspecting them. Talking about something called calories and vegan. Arthur was perplexed to say the least.
"Merlin." He hissed through his teeth, "Where the hell are you?"
He was starting to panic now. He hadn't seen Merlin for the past few rows. People glared at him as he pushed his way past, but he was long past caring.
"Hey, watch it!" A man growled when Arthur pushed past.
Arthur, in turn, just kept walking, too afraid he'd say the wrong thing to say anything at all. It's not like he had his sword (Merlin didn't let him bring it out in public anymore) to protect himself.
These people lived in a different world, everything seemed easier, but for Arthur it seemed so much harder. They spoke differently and they didn't have swords or chainmail, instead they had mobile phones and cars, both of which, Merlin had and Arthur didn't like. They wore colourful clothes and the women didn't always wear dresses!
Finally, Arthur was stood in a sort of familiar place, the row that contained fruit. He had seen fruit before. Not all the colourful berries were familiar, but it was better than any other row. Arthur wandered down the aisle inspecting the names, seeing what he recognised.
Suddenly a hand closed around Arthur's arm. Panic built up inside him like bile. He spun around.
Merlin stood in front of him, a smug, amused look plastered on his face. Arthur flung his arms around Merlin's shoulders, the metal basket in Merlin's arms clanged loudly. Merlin laughed hoarsely next to Arthur's ear.
"Arthur, I can't breathe." He croaked.
Arthur didn't loosen his grip. Instead he whispered, "Where the hell did you go!"
"I told you, I went to get milk." Merlin answered, pulling Arthur's arms off him.
"Don't ever do that again!"
Merlin laughed again and Arthur found himself smiling at the sound. Merlin reached out and intertwined his fingers with Arthur's, pulling him towards the checkout.
"You don't want me to get milk? What would you eat with your cereal?"
Arthur thought for a second, "Fine. But next time, take me with you."
Merlin rolled his eyes, "You're such a baby. To think, the great King of Camelot getting lost in a supermarket."
Arthur pulled his hand free.
"I am not a baby." He said, folding his arms across his chest.
"Yeah, clearly." Merlin laughed, unloading the basket onto the conveyor belt.
"Shut up, Merlin." He hugged Merlin from behind, his hands clasped across his stomach, "And don't leave me in the supermarket alone, ever again."