Disclaimer: (Insert witty disclaiming message here that makes certain you guys all know that A: I do not own Merlin or anything even slightly related to Merlin, B: I am extremely upset about that, and C: I am really, really funny.)
Please Tell Me You Don't Do That With Lancelot (Not Jealous)
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Arthur was not jealous, all right? He fucking wasn't. Merlin could slink off to spend all his free time with Lancelot if he wanted to, as long as he did his job when it was required of him—as long as he polished Arthur's armor and sharpened his sword and cleaned his chambers and fetched his food and washed his clothes and mended his chainmail—he could do whatever he wanted to with his spare time and Arthur couldn't really do or say anything about it. He shouldn't even have been upset, because Merlin was allowed to have friends and a life outside of Arthur and why was he even thinking about it so much? It didn't matter to him who Merlin spent all his free time with, he just... well, he wondered sometimes...
Why was it always Lancelot?
Arthur understood they were close—Merlin had been friends with him long before he'd been knighted, and indeed was part of the reason he was a knight in the first place—but, really, it was getting a bit ridiculous, the amount of time they were spending together.
After training was finished for the day, Lancelot would hang around and help Merlin gather up the swords and sometimes help him sharpen them, if he needed to. Sometimes, even, in the middle of training when Lancelot had a moment to take a breather, he would find his way over to Merlin and take a seat next to him, talk and laugh about something or another until he found his way back to the training.
Out on patrols and when they were out on quests or whathaveyou, Merlin would fall back, his horse sidling up to Lancelot's, and they would spend the majority of the ride lost in conversation, talking and joking about something Arthur could never quite understand or make out, leaving him to fume for reasons he did not always understand.
If they had to make camp for the night, Merlin and Lancelot would sit close together, talking in hushed tones away from the others, chatting the night away until they all drifted off to sleep. And, come morning, Arthur would awaken and the pair of them would already be up, completing the odd chore around camp together, joking about and horsing around in a way that made Arthur's stomach knot up in a way he did not like.
Even back at Camelot, Arthur would see Merlin walking down the hall with Lancelot, on their way to training or just chatting casually, spending time together, and he would have to turn down a different hall to avoid them, to avoid the way Merlin seemed to talk animatedly with him, always joking and smiling in a way he rarely was with Arthur—not that Arthur and Merlin didn't have a strong friendship of their own; they had a nice little back and forth, a rapport all their own that Arthur enjoyed very much indeed, but, somehow, Merlin always seemed... More himself whenever Arthur observed him with Lancelot. If Lancelot hadn't been courting Guinevere, Arthur almost would have been worried that he was interested in Merlin in a different sort of way, in the way Arthur sometimes thought he was interested in Merlin.
But... Well, he did try to convince himself that they were just close friends and nothing more. No matter how much time they spent together, no matter how many jokes they told and laughs they shared and no matter how they seemed to be joined at the hip some days and how Merlin always seemed so much calmer and at ease whenever he was walking down the stairs with Lancelot at his side rather than Arthur—
Did Arthur mention that he was not fucking jealous? Not at all?
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"If there's nothing else, sire—?" Merlin said, turning to face Arthur as he finished smoothing down the deep red sheets on Arthur's bed, usually his final chore of the day before he would be dismissed.
Arthur was standing just across the room, looking off thoughtfully, thumb resting just in front of his mouth as he seemed to be chewing something over, his jaw clenched slightly. It was nearing bed-time for the King—he had a meeting with his court bright and early, and Merlin knew, if he didn't get plenty of sleep beforehand, he'd be an insufferable prat towards Merlin the entire day afterwards—so he was in his usual white tunic, that Merlin knew he'd strip off just before he climbed into bed, and his night trousers. He'd been distracted all day, and Merlin wondered if it had anything to do with the meeting he'd be having the next day... or if it was something else entirely.
Actually, when Merlin gave it a moment's more thought, he'd been acting stranger than usual, not just that past day, but for the past month or so at least. He'd never really had the chance to bring it up before, but, well, they were alone, and Arthur was in the sort of mood that left Merlin itching for answers...
"What's wrong?" Merlin sighed, hands coming to rest on his hips as he considered Arthur for a moment.
"Nothing." Arthur said, his attention snapping over to Merlin.
"Come on, Arthur." Merlin sighed again. "I haven't got all night, you know, so just—"
"Got somewhere to be, then?" Arthur snapped, his tone sharper than Merlin was used to, even when he was in a foul mood.
Taken aback, Merlin screwed his face up, slowly started again, ignoring the look on Arthur's face that he could not quite place. "I... Well, yes, actually, but come on, I just want to know—"
"Lancelot, right?" Arthur interrupted. "You're going to see him again, aren't you?"
"Yeah. We were going to go to the tavern with—is there something... wrong?" Merlin asked, bristling at Arthur's tone and the look on his face, which was somehow bordering on hurt when Merlin was the one all but being shouted at here.
Arthur let out a breath, crossed his arms over his chest, and took a step towards Merlin before something flashed across his face and he halted his movements, leaving Merlin... frustrated. He didn't understand Arthur's sudden mood, his tone, his sudden... well, whatever this was.
And he certainly didn't understand what any of that had to do with Lancelot. Because Lancelot was Merlin's friend—Arthur's knight—Arthur's friend—why would he be upset about something concerning him, about Merlin spending time with him?
"Just tell me—"
"Just go, Merlin. Just... go." Arthur sighed, huffing as he turned away from Merlin.
Merlin rolled his eyes and slowly walked across the room, his steps purposeful as he made a face to himself, aggravated and concerned all at once. He probably should have just gone, but... if he left Arthur now, without finding out why he was in such a mood, it would probably just bother him all night, and anyway, for everything else that could be said about their relationship, Merlin would never deny that, when there was clearly something wrong, Arthur never was one to give up until he could coax or prod an answer of some sort out of Merlin—even if it was a made-up one sometimes—so didn't Merlin owe it to himself, and Arthur, to return the favor?
"Not until you tell me what's going on." He said slowly.
"I am the king, Merlin, if I tell you—"
"Oh shut up with all that." Merlin interrupted, rolling his eyes once again.
Arthur only ever played his 'I am the king and you must do as I say' card whenever he was upset about something or another, and they both knew it. Now if only he would tell Merlin what had him so upset this time, perhaps they would be able to get somewhere...
"And just... come on, Arthur, tell me what's wrong with you already." Merlin sighed, coming to stand not too far behind Arthur.
Arthur froze just in front of him, shoulders held with determination not to say anything, and Merlin kept quiet for a long moment, knowing that if he simply held out long enough, Arthur would break. He would break and—Ah. Arthur let out a breath, then, shoulders slumping ever so slightly, before he turned about to face Merlin, something written in his eyes that he had hidden away within a quick moment before Merlin could be sure what it was.
"Forget it." He sighed.
Merlin rolled his eyes once again. Right. Forget it. Since when did Merlin ever do something as ridiculous as that?
"Arthur—"
"I said forget it, Merlin." Arthur snapped. "And just... just go to the tavern with Lancelot; God knows you'd rather spend your time with him than me, anyway." he murmured, spinning around on his heel, but not before Merlin caught sight of what he could only describe as hurt written out in his eyes.
Was that what this was all about? All the time Merlin had been spending with Lancelot? Which, yeah, okay, maybe he'd been spending a bit more time with Lancelot as of late, but... he was Lancelot. Merlin's friend, the only one other than Gaius who he could talk to about his magic and things he couldn't exactly come to Arthur with. Honestly, the fact that Arthur was... moping, brooding, over Merlin spending time with Lancelot...
It was humorous, to say the least.
However, from the way Arthur spun around to face Merlin once again at the sound of him letting out a fit of snorting laughter... It was fair to say he did not agree with the sentiment.
"And what—"
"You're jealous." Merlin said, shaking his head with residual laughter.
"I am not!" Arthur said, his pink cheeks painting a different story, as far as Merlin was concerned.
"Yes, you are." He nodded, a smug sort of smile on his face that faded within the moment as he crossed his own arms over his chest, still amused, and yet... "You're jealous of all the time I've been spending with Lancelot—though I can't imagine why, since most of my day and life is spent with you or doing things for you or thinking about you—honestly, there isn't much of my life that isn't already all about you, so why the hell you would ever need to be jealous is—"
"Look, I'm not jealous of all the time you've been spending with Lancelot, all right?" Arthur interrupted.
"Yes, you—"
"No, I'm not." Arthur said stubbornly, his jaw itself determined to make Merlin believe his words, the way it was set. Merlin flashed him a look of disbelief—there was no way he would be leaving Arthur's chambers thinking Arthur was anything but jealous now. No way—until he sighed and shifted, dropping his arms from his chest as he shook his head. "I'm not jealous of all the time you've been spending with Lancelot, I'm jealous... of the way you spend your time with Lancelot." He finally admitted, lowering his eyes for a moment until they snapped back up to Merlin's confused ones, taken aback by the admission.
What?
Merlin shook his head, blinking for a moment against the words that he could hardly believe had just left Arthur's lips.
"What... do you mean?" He asked slowly after a beat.
"I mean," Arthur swallowed, eyes locked onto Merlin's now, clear and hard and... vulnerable in a way Merlin knew he hardly allowed himself to be. "When you're with me, you're just my servant, but when you're with Lancelot... you're his friend, you're a different person with him than you are with me—that's what I'm jealous of."
Merlin licked his lips, chewing Arthur's words over as his heart did an odd sort of thing, blood pounding hard in his ears.
Right, well, of course he was different with Lancelot—he was Lancelot, Merlin was able to be, was able to be himself, was able to talk about the parts of himself and his life that he could not, for obvious reasons, discuss with Arthur. It was a freeing, great sort of feeling, and he reveled in it, in being able to joke and slip into different stories and shed the lies and facade—Merlin could understand where Arthur was coming from, but... Well, there wasn't much he could do to change it, truly. Not with magic still outlawed in Camelot. There were still certain stories he could not share with Arthur, certain things he could not talk with him about, certain jokes he could not tell him...
There was still this part of him he could not share with Arthur, and Arthur had every right to be frustrated, jealous even, because... well, Merlin was his servant, but he also considered himself Arthur's friend, but... God, friends did not have to hide such a huge part of themselves from other friends, did not have to tell so many lies, did not...
Perhaps Merlin wasn't Arthur's friend, when he thought about it, not in the same way he was Lancelot's friend—though if Arthur really wanted to go about things that way, Merlin also was not Gwaine's friend in the same way he was Lancelot's friend, was not Leon's or Gwen's or anyone else's friend in the same way he was Lancelot's friend.
He should not have been feeling the guilty one here—it wasn't exactly his fault he had to hide such a part of his identity from everyone he cared about—and yet...
Letting out a sigh, Merlin shook his head, eyes coming up to find Arthur's waiting ones, curious and guarded, the look on his face as serious and... worried and wondering and pleading, as Merlin could ever recall seeing it before. And suddenly all his resolve to feed Arthur some story and a handful of lies to placate him... It melted away. Arthur was the king now, maybe—just maybe—things could finally be different now...
"All right," Merlin nodded slowly, breaking the silence carefully. "We can... we can change that, if you'd like. I can be... more than your servant, if you want me to be."
Arthur shook his head, sending a jolt through Merlin before he added, "You already are more than my servant, you're... Merlin. I just... I want you to act like more than my servant sometimes."
"I do—" Merlin shook his head, amused as he took a step forward towards Arthur. "—all the time, in case you don't remember all those times I went against your orders, talked back to you, neglected my chores—"
"You know what I mean." Arthur interrupted, a small smile taking over his face as he shook his head, taking a step of his own towards Merlin, face clear of all that had been dancing across it only a moment before.
"I do." Merlin conceded, nodding slightly, returning Arthur's small smile as he 'hmm'ed to himself.
This moment... it was heavy with possibility and change and it was so... nerve-wrecking and exciting and oh god, Merlin knew what he thought Arthur meant when he said he wanted Merlin to be more than his servant—he wanted him to be his friend, surely, wanted Merlin to be able to talk to him about the sort of things he could talk to Lancelot about—and he knew what he hoped Arthur meant when he said he wanted Merlin to be more than his servant, and, heart pounding in his ears, he was faced with the choice, faced with deciding how to go about this moment, how to go about changing the dynamics of their relationship...
Would it be wrong of him to just... test the waters? Would it be wrong for him to see if what he wanted and what Arthur truly wanted out of this conversation were one and the same? He'd already decided that perhaps it was time for the magic talk, but, the other thing he wanted to talk about, the other thing his heart wanted... well.
"Before..." He licked his lips, eyes on Arthur as he halted in his movements, eyes half-lidded as he gave Merlin his undivided attention in a way that was... one of the greatest things Merlin had ever before experienced. "I... start talking to you like I talk to Lancelot, can I just... do one thing?" He asked, hands coming to hover just in the space of air between them, pausing in case... well, in case Arthur said no...
Arthur nodded, however, sending a wave of relief and nerves through-out Merlin as he willed his hands to move, legs to carry him closer still to Arthur, arms to come around his neck, tug him close, smiling as Arthur shook his head in an amused manner, eyes closing in anticipation as his head tilted to the side, and Merlin felt something relax within himself as Arthur's arms snaked themselves around him, one hand coming up to cup the back of Merlin's head, the other resting carefully just on his waist as Merlin leaned in without another thought, lips hesitantly pressing against Arthur's, a sigh of relief escaping him when Arthur kissed him back, the careful kiss melting into several more easy, wanting kisses before Arthur pulled back for a fraction of a moment, half-lidded eyes shining in mischief as he mumbled,
"Please tell me you don't do that with Lancelot..."
"Gwen is a kind woman, Arthur," Merlin mumbled back, chuckling slightly as one of his hands came up to card itself through Arthur's hair. "But even she isn't that kind..."
"Fair enough." Arthur conceded with a laugh, leaning back down for another series of kisses, something twisting itself through Merlin's stomach at the mention of Lancelot; perhaps it was wrong to allow himself—to allow Arthur—such a thing, such a freedom, such a desire, just moments before Merlin decided he would finally tell Arthur everything he should have told him what felt like forever ago, but...
Maybe he just didn't want to be right sometimes.
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