TITLE: I Really Want You
SUMMARY: Song-fic to James Blunt's I Really Want You. Percival just can't get Merlin to see past the knight to the man that lies beneath…
PAIR: Percival/Merlin.
A/N: I debated for a long time about who this fic was going to centre on. There could have been so many, in so many domains. I decided on this pairing by literally putting pairs in a hat. Feel free to imagine any couple you please. R&R.
PPOV
He's over there again and he's looking at me when he thinks I'm not looking at him. Even when I'm not looking, I know he's watching, I know he's staring at me with almost violent intensity. His eyes burn, I know, with rage and uncertainty and fear stalks his shadow like a beast after prey. His secret is something he wears as a cloak, one made of iron and steel, one so heavy he can barely carry it around with him, a secret that makes him bow beneath it. I cannot fathom the rage in those eyes, rage at keeping the secret we're all aware of and yet know nothing about, the rage at me for daring to be who I am. What he loathes the most.
Many prophets preach on bended knee. Many clerics wasted wine.
Do the bloodied sheets on those cobbled streets mean I have wasted time?
Are there silver shores on paradise? Can I come in from the cold?
I killed a man in a far away land, my enemy I'm told.
He hates the killer I must be, rages at the man who makes me that killer, rages at me for letting myself become that killer. All this ensconced in his burning eyes, all this said in a single, fiery gaze, never vocalised and never hinted, just burning in those beautiful eyes. How long can I remain standing, how long before they burn through even my armour, leaving me laid bare before him. Perhaps that is what he's trying for, he wants to strip me bare and leave my soul at his mercy, the darkest of eyes tearing through every defence I have and leaving my heart and soul lying before him. Playthings for the darkest of eyes, and me as his willing accomplice.
I really want you to really want me, but I really don't know if you can do that.
I know you want to know what's right but I know it's so hard for you to do that
Time's running out as often it does, and often dictates that you can't do that
Fate can't break this feeling inside that's burning up through my veins.
I wonder what it would be like. Him in the darkness, firelight in his hair and eyes, passion at his core, his hands playing me like cards and dice, hands making mockery of my strength. Completely at his mercy, at the mercy of the fate that brought me to this point, almost at the brink of going to him, thrusting my sword into the earth at his feet and telling him that I would trade it all in one moment, give everything I possess and hold for him to make that mockery of me, for him to take, hold, claim, possess.
I really want you.
I really want you.
I really want you -
No matter what I say or do, the message isn't getting through,
And you're listening to the sound of my breaking heart.
I really want you.
I really want you.
Would he push me away, would he reject me, would he take me in and keep me? I must be dreaming because I'm flying, flying on the back of a great winged beast, a beast with scales and with fire in it's throat. The night is cold, full of stars and a masked moon, and my breath plumes in the air, making it seem as though there is a fire in my belly and flames in my throat. A harsh, guttural voice is ringing on the air, a voice so heavy with power and with command that it makes me want to fall at the feet of it, makes me want to ask for forgiveness and for mercy. The great creature responds to it, soaring down and letting out a stream of fire that lights up the forest clearing below us.
Is a poor man rich in solitude, or will Mother Earth complain?
Did the beggar pray for a sunny day, but Lady Luck for rain?
They say a million people bow and scrape to an effigy of gold.
I saw life begin and the ship we're in and history unfold.
I stand before a tall man, a man with rage in his eyes and passion at his core, and I know him instantaneously. He is cloaked in shadow now, stands erect and formidable, his secret shed and hung in the clearing, in the beast that brought me here to him, in my heart, in his passion and rage. He no longer wears it, he no longer hides it. He is beautiful in his power, terrible in his potential and frightening in his potency. This is a man with the power to bring kings and kingdoms crashing down, a man with the power to make or break men with a snap of those pale fingers, a man who could kill us all with a whispered command to the airborne beast. I fall to my knees before him, touch my forehead to the ground in a gesture I know he must understand. I remove my armour with trembling hands, his presence alone enough to strike fear into my core.
I really want you to really want me but I really don't know if you can do that.
I know you want to know what's right but I know it's so hard for you to do that
Time's running out as often it does and often dictates that you can't do that
Fate can't break this feeling inside that's burning up through my veins.
I really want you.
I really want you.
I really want you - now.
He doesn't move as I lay my breastplate to the side, doesn't react as the chain mail joins it. I stand and remove my sword from it's hold, and I hold it before him. He does not stir as I drive it with force into a nearby tree stump. I am defenceless and I am vulnerable. I am standing before him as nothing but the man I am beneath my armour, and this clearing is bathed in full moonlight in an impossible passage of time. He stays in his shadow, the illusion he allowed himself, his indulgence. In a flash I realise it all, I know that this is not my dream, this is my reality, and I am standing before this man still with my defences intact. I pull my shirt over my head, the trembling that started in my hands now running through my entire body. I'm shivering so violently I can barely summon the control or the courage - or is it a mix of both? - to remove my boots. There's just one more barrier left, one more wall I know he wants me to be able to surrender. He's tensed up - I can feel him as acutely as I could if he were pressed against me inch for inch. It's just one more, and it's the hardest wall to fall. I stand so still for such a long, long time. And he turns away from me, and the light is leaving, and I know that if I don't do it, if I don't let him in now he'll never give me another chance. He's tilting that head back, leaving that neck a pliant column in silhouette. The noise of protest and fear tears from me like a child torn from it's mother. He turns back, and he leans forward, the shadow moving with him, the eager hope in every line of his dark form. I'm shaking so violently now I can hardly see him properly, but I lower my hands and I unlace my breeches and step out of them. I am his. I am standing here at his mercy, and I fix my gaze on where I can actually see those burning eyes. Even in the blackness of his shadowy cocoon, I can see his eyes blazing and burning. Keeping the fire on me, I kneel down, and once more touch my forehead to the ground. I kneel and I wait, I leave myself laid bare for him, my arms behind my back, no more barrier between him and me, no more armour, no more clothes, just flesh and blood and bone. For one brutal moment, I think I've ignited. I'm burning, and the shaking has intensified, I can feel those eyes on me, can feel the air around us literally cracking with heat. Every gasp of air is hot, every bead of sweat feels like it evaporates as it hit's the air, every move is perfect, wonderful, exquisite torture.
No matter what I say or do, the message isn't getting through,
And you're listening to the sound of my breaking heart
No matter what I say or do, the message isn't getting through,
And you're listening to the sound of my breaking heart.
There are cool arms around me, there are warm lips on my face and neck, there is a voice in my ear telling me that he'll never let me go. There is a violence in the air, a violent rage we will never hope to tame or stop, and then, then, then there are lips on mine and there is hair in my hands and a passion at my core…
