Disclaimer: I do not own BBC'S Merlin or its characters. I simply enjoy writing shenanigans about their characters.

Please, enjoy.

Guess Who's Back

Merlin hadn't aged a day. Not in terms of what would have been biologically acceptable. If that were the case, he would have become part of the earth long ago. No, he still looked as he had in Camelot. Well, almost anyway. Every now and then he caught himself in a mirror and saw that he looked tired. So very tired. That was what happened when you wait for someone to return from the dead for 1,500 years, possibly more. Merlin had stopped counting a while ago.

A long while ago.

Yet, despite all that had happened over those long years, Merlin had found himself back and close to home. Now, London. After all the years of collecting interest, he found it easy to keep a home, a healthy diet and all other necessities. Netflix, for example.

What wasn't easy for him, was the waiting. There was so much waiting. Nothing out of the ordinary or remotely magical happened anymore. Ever.

Until, at last, it did.

Arthur didn't have a bloody clue where he was. He had just sort of woken up at the edge of the lake. To him, nothing had seemed out of the ordinary. If anything, it was a bit cloudier. Merlin had gone off somewhere, however, which concerned the King greatly.

Naturally, he was determined to find his lost servant.

Which is how Arthur ended up fully armoured in chainmail and crimson cape, sword at his hip, in the middle of what he would later learn to be called London.

He realised quite quickly, that he stood out. Though, in his mind, it was everyone else that looked funny. Not him. He was King, after all. He was hoping that Merlin had an explanation to all this, like he usually did. Until then, he was stuck figuring it out himself. It wasn't going too well.

Nothing looked familiar to the King. The walls, the buildings, the roads; even the people. He had almost been trampled by the strange magic wheeled things on several occasions, which threatened him with a loud honking noise whenever this happened.

He kept asking the 'peasants' where he might find Camelot, Gwen, his knights, and most importantly Merlin. The responses he got involved a lot of staring, a question as to his drinking habits, or if he was 'for real?'. Arthur thought that was a stupid question, of course, he was real. Why wouldn't he be? The people of this land were strange. Very strange. Magic seemed to be all around him, which was quite startling. He was comfortable with Merlin's magic, but he didn't know these people and their allegiances. Who knew what dark magic they were toying with. The doors that opened by themselves were particularly concerning. A security issue, in his opinion. The 'spinning ones' proved to be more challenging, capturing him in its eternal spiral at one point.

He really needed to find Merlin.

The day had been going quite normally for Merlin, and had consisted of his usual trip downtown to retrieve some groceries that he could not grow himself. Now, he was making his way back to his home, silent as usual. He didn't have much to say any more. He preferred to listen. You could pick up a lot more about people if you just listened. He wished he had listened more, back then.

He heard the usual things. Discussions about family. Death, what happened last week on Doctor Who. The usual. Nothing out of the ordinary. Just normal old London. Content, he made his usual path past the café he always stopped by for tea at, where two women were currently deeply engaged in conversation at the outside table.

"Did you see that guy a few blocks back? He was taking cosplaying way too seriously."

…Odd, he thought. But not that strange. It was London, after all. He kept on walking.

"The one with the cape?"

He slowed his pace.

"Yeah, that was him. I mean, really, threating a car with a sword and accusing everything of magic. Bit extreme."

He came to a stop. …. It couldn't be. Could it? …it's been so long.

"It was a bit scary actually. He kept asking everyone for Merlin. He looked kind of frenzied. Maybe he was on something…"

Merlin whirled around, facing the two women, eyes wide. "Where?" he demanded. "Where did you see this?" He was met with wide eyes, cautious and ready to dial 999 if necessary. He shook himself off, trying to calm himself. "Sorry, sorry. He's a friend. An actor. Gets pretty meta sometimes, unless someone intervenes."

The older of the two stared a second longer before finally blinking, hand leaving the phone resting on the table. "Uh, down a few blocks, where the Lake shops are. You won't miss him. Trust me."

Merlin wasted no time, muttering a quick thanks before bolting. He prepared himself for disappointment. That it was just a really dedicated cosplayer or street performer. A trick of the light, another face in the crowd. It had happened so many times before.

….But this seems different. This feels like magic.

Hoping beyond hope, he ran on, past slow walking people, dogs, stores and more. He even passed over crosswalks without looking for traffic. A stupid thing to do, really. It would be quite an ironic twist of fate if he were to die only when Arthur returned. He had had enough of fate and destiny. He just wanted to see Arthur again.

And, not another moment later from this thought, he did.

There, just a few meters away, for the first time in over 1,500 years, was Arthur.

The clot hadn't noticed him yet, despite the significance of the moment. Instead, he was engaged in threatening a tv display with his sword, demanding it surrender the tiny people inside of it with 'whatever magic it was using.' He shouldn't have expected anything less.

He found his voice caught in his throat, unable to say anything, and unable to move. Frozen. He was really there, after all this time. Alive, uninjured, and very much King Arthur Pendragon. He looked the same as he did before he was killed. Golden-haired, armoured and a noble expression. It was hard to believe that he hadn't seen that face, or at least the side of it, for almost two thousand years. Yet, he was seeing it.

Finally, after what seemed an age, he found the courage to speak. "Arthur!" he called.

Arthur turned at the sound of his name, looking for who had called it. After some wide-eyed searching, Arthur's eyes fell on him. Blue, alive and seeing eyes. He had forgotten how blue they were. Next came the smile, that bright and wonderful smile. "Merlin! There you are!" He sheathed his sword, already making his way towards him. "Why are you dressed like that? Where's Morgana? Why does everything look so strange? What kind of magic do you suppose this is?-"

He hugged him.

He couldn't help it. It was the only thing he could think to do. The only thing he wanted to do. So that's what he did. They had never hugged much before, so he supposed now was a good time to make up for that.

Arthur spluttered, not quite returning the hug. Merlin? What- what are you doing? What's going on?"

Merlin pulled back from the embrace, aware of watching eyes. They probably thought this was some sort of re-enactment. "I'll tell you later. Let's get out of here," was the only explanation he gave him.

Arthur followed him somewhat easily for once. Of course, the questions didn't stop, and he had to pull Arthur away from pretty much everything he saw. Clothing that was apparently too short, funny looking dogs, bicycles. Everything, really. He supposed it actually wasn't that easy getting Arthur to his house. But, alas, he managed it.

Settled inside the house, he set Arthur down on the couch, leaving him to scan the room in wonder while he put the groceries away.

"What is this place?" Arthur asked from the living room, ever curious.

Finished, Merlin made his way into the living room, and sat down on the couch next to his friend, preparing for a bombshell of questions. "It's my house, Arthur."

Arthur stared, "You live here?"

"Yes, you clotpoll, and I have, for a very long time."

"How? You live in Camelot. I know you do," reasoned Arthur, smiling nervously.

He drew a deep breath, preparing himself for what was to come. "That was over 1,500 years ago, Arthur."

Arthur's smile fell, replaced by a deep frown, "What are you talking about? That's ridiculous."

"You died, Arthur."

And so, he explained. Everything. From the moment Arthur had died to the moment he had run into him. He talked about the waiting, the grief, Camelot, and how they passed into legend. At the end of his recount, Arthur simply sat, deep in thought.

After a while, he spoke. "You waited, all this time, for me?"

Merlin swallowed, shaky, "Yes. For you, always."

Arthur spoke no more. Instead, he simply nodded and pulled him in for an embrace. Merlin could have cried. In fact, he probably was. He wrapped his arms around Arthur tightly, holding him close in case he disappeared. "I missed you," he managed to say, burying his face against Arthur's shoulder. Arthur nodded, doing the same, muttering apology after apology.

They stayed like that for a while, content in each other's presence. That was, until Arthur, apparently, had a thought. "Merlin, what's a cosplayer?"

Merlin snorted, "Arthur, you're going to love this place."