Harry was not surprised when he stepped off the jet and found himself somewhere other than HQ. He could, of course, see through the windows during the flight and tell they were on a different trajectory. He was a little amused, especially when the town car pulled up at the end of the strip for him, and the driver politely asked him to get in. As if he would be allowed to do anything else. The drive wasn't long, but his mind wandered in a way it hadn't been able to on the jet. The rolling, empty, green countryside helped soothe the relentless battle scenarios his thoughts hadn't been able to let go of when staring at a bright, endless, blue sky.
Merlin didn't divert him to Scotland often, he must have felt he needed the home advantage. He knew better than to ask Harry to arrive of his own accord, as he would find plenty of reasons, real and imagined, to put it off. They were both too damn good at avoiding rest to go about it naturally.
When they arrived at the stone cottage, Harry stepped out of the car, and the driver simply waved before pulling away and going back down the lane. There was no other vehicle in sight, though the rather derelict looking barn probably housed something in case of emergency. He was meant to have no escape. Once inside Harry wouldn't want to leave, but that didn't stop him from dawdling outside a moment longer. He couldn't allow himself to concede without at least some kind of fight, even if no one were around to see it.
He was capable of taking care of himself, contrary to Merlin's belief, he simply had other things to do most of the time.
After a short walk around the small building, with plenty of pauses to stare at the hill dotted horizon, Harry finally turned and headed for the door. He froze in the threshold, startled by the sense of activity in the cottage. He wasn't alone out here, making the warm air and the smell of food only half the reason a smile appeared on his face.
After he closed the door, a familiar voice drifted to him from a back room. "There you are. I was wondering if I would have to go out and fetch you."
He would have too, leash in hand, no doubt.
"Just taking in the air." He was still in his dinner clothes from his meeting with Valentine, and had no luggage or coat to put down. He did take off his glasses and tuck them into an interior pocket of his smoking jacket, before stepping into the main room.
A worn out, blue-gray sofa dominated much of the space, surrounded by waist high bookshelves with one spindly lamp standing sentry between them. The hearth had a stack of wood next to it and a small fire burning. No air and heating out here, Harry was honestly a little surprised there was electricity. Merlin could get rustic when he wanted to.
He stopped in the doorway to the kitchen, leaning on the frame to watch the man at work. Merlin appeared done with cooking, wiping down the counters and setting aside pots and pans to dry. Having him here was more than a pleasant surprise, and Harry did not want to spoil the joy by questioning how he had managed it.
"What's for supper?" It was closer to a breakfast hour, but all the traveling he had done contested the idea to his internal clock.
The edge of Merlin's lips quirked with a smile, but he did not turn to face him. "It's a surprise."
"As long as it isn't another Big Mac." His fingers brushed against the button on his jacket, hovering above his stomach. "I'm not sure how much fast food I can process in one day."
"You lived off of well water in rural China for a week in '89, I believe you can handle the golden arches."
"Oh very well, call me a liar."
Merlin set aside his sponge and dried his hands. "If you aren't feeling well you can always lie down. I'm surprised you aren't tired, with crossing all those time zones."
He was tired, but he did not want to lose any forward momentum on the Valentine case. The disappearances, Professor Arnold losing his head, his coma, the man's sudden generosity with his SIM cards, it had all culminated in a rather thick cloud of foreboding, which only intensified after meeting with him face to face. Harry itched to be in the middle of a debriefing, halfway to planning his next step, but it would be impossible out here. Getting an unplanned break was as relieving as it was frustrating.
"To bed without supper? Have I done something wrong?" He was toeing a very fine line, but he could not help it.
"Waking up from a coma is not the same as recovering from one." Merlin finally turned to face him, hands on hips. He had pushed his sleeves up to his elbows, and lingering beads of water from washing rolled down his forearms. His cabled jumper was the same blue-gray as the couch, and his trousers were black. All he needed was a black knit cap and he would fully look the part of a cartoon burglar.
The mental image of his sneaking around on his toes with a sack of stolen goods over his shoulder was quickly chased away by the worry in his eyes.
Harry normally could not stand it when Merlin worried about him, in very much the same way Merlin grew frustrated when Harry worried over him. The very nature of their work made such a thing ridiculous, and only served to remind them of how foolish they were being. At that moment though, Harry was tired, and he had just jumped across, and back over, the ocean in order to have dinner.
"I know."
Merlin was wary of getting such an acquiescence, so Harry stepped forward, closing the gap between them with small, measured steps.
"You can only run so many tests, and I can only tell you I feel fine so many times." He held his hands out, palms up, waiting for Merlin to take them.
When he did, the taut line of his shoulders loosened, his own acceptance to the situation. Harry squeezed his hands before leaning forward and brushing his lips against his.
"Now, where can I freshen up before this surprise meal?"
He released one hand and pointed. "Down the hall, washroom on the left, bedroom on the right. There's some extra clothes in the dresser, if you want to change."
"Thank you, I was starting to feel a little over dressed."
Before he released his other hand, Merlin brought it up to his mouth and laid a kiss on his palm. Harry's fingers curled around the mark when he was let go, and it wasn't until he noticed Merlin's smirk that he finally remembered he had been about to leave the room.
"Oh, and Galahad."
He paused in the doorway, looking back over his shoulder.
"So you won't be thinking about it all night, I've looked into the church. So far, no direct connection back to Valentine. I left some programs running back at HQ, they'll find anything worth knowing for when we get back."
He nodded and smiled, slipping out of the room.
Merlin still had one more thing left to say, though. "So, no more moping the rest of the time you're here, Harry, all right?"
Waking up was bliss until Harry remembered that he had fallen asleep. He had been so damn tired that after eating he had actually gone to bed. He stretched out under the covers, but encountered no other body, making him begrudgingly crack open his eyes.
The bedroom was small, sparsely furnished, and quaint, like the rest of the cottage. Aside from the bed, there was a night stand, a dresser with a mirror, and another spindly lamp that matched the one in the living room. The mattress did not squeak as he rolled off of it, and the bed frame was far too sturdy to offer up any protest. He pulled a dressing gown on over the undershirt and small clothes he had gone to sleep in, setting out to find Merlin.
It wasn't a long or difficult search, as he just had to make it down the hall until he saw him on the sofa, reading. The spindly lamp cast a warm, golden glow on man and book. Harry liked watching Merlin read. The intensity which he set himself to the task was remarkable. Work required his rapid understanding of streams of data, but when it came to recreation and fiction, he consumed information with a different kind of voraciousness. His tongue also had the habit of peaking out from his lips and playing against the corner of his mouth.
He would have stood in the hall and watched for hours if his feet were not cold. Which was just as well, as he had a particular interest in getting back under the covers anyway.
"Come to bed."
Merlin looked over the top of his book, not bothering to lower it. "I'm not tired."
He was still wearing the clothes from earlier, so Harry refused to ask how long he had been asleep. The gray skies from the window seemed the same from when he arrived, but it was impossible to tell.
"And I'm well rested."
That put his full attention on Harry, and he set the book aside on top of one of the shelves. "Oh?"
"Of course, you know me to be a liar, so you'll have to come check yourself."
"You aren't a liar, just a great exaggerator of the truth."
Knowing Merlin would follow, he turned and walked back down the hall to the room. He stripped off the dressing gown, though it had just barely grown warm from his body, and caught sight of himself in the mirror on the dresser.
His hair had the distressing habit of falling into what could only be described as boyish curls when he did not tend to it. His little nap had set a riot of them on his head, and his fingers through their ranks did nothing to dispel them. He gave up the war before it even started, knowing Merlin liked to curl his fingers around them. With all the laying about he planned to do, the sensation would be worth putting up with the amused look on Merlin's face. Harry did not like getting called boyish, a fact which Merlin knew well enough, but he could still read the look in his eye.
The door clicked shut behind him, and he turned to face Merlin.
Time was not something the two of them had an abundance of, and when it did appear in spades, it tended to happen in trenches and in foxholes. It was also something neither of them could rely on, not with any measure of certainty. The time any of them had left was a treacherous thing to count. Having good health did not necessarily mean a long life, not in their line of work. Working on the Valentine case, James' death rattled across his thoughts far too often, reminding him of that fact.
Right then though, it felt like they had all the time in the world.
Time to pull Merlin's jumper off, and then his shirt. The prospect of getting stuck in layers of clothing tugged haphazardly over their heads frequently had them not bothering with their removal.
Time to explore each others' skin. Often as not, the seduction, the foreplay, was played out between their voices over secure comm channels, hoarding all the time they had together, in the flesh, for things much more simple.
Time to kiss lips, eyes, cheeks, and fingertips. Normally mouths were reserved for things like fuck right there and shh, someone's coming when they weren't wrapped around a prick.
Time to lay out across a bed and revel in the sheets as much as each other. Hotels were gauche, and it wasn't like they had time to get to them. It was the same with their beds at home, so they made do with the office, the jet, and all boltholes in the field.
Time to count the stars as they came and climb off that euphoric high and back on to each other. It was never I owe you, it was always my turn next time.
Time to breathe, to forget to, then remember it all again.
Harry let his eyes close for a moment, though he had no intention of sleeping. Merlin was warm at his side, propped up on his elbow, fingers playing through the curls in his hair. Sweat made the sheets cling to him, though it was hardly a nuisance worth noticing, not when he had an arm around his lover.
Warm, sated, laid out on his belly with his body aching in the most pleasant way, Harry felt like a king. He rested his cheek against the pillow so he could watch Merlin properly, even if he did have that ridiculous look on his face. The one that he wore when he called Harry's curls boyish. "I could go for breakfast in bed."
"Not in this bed."
He smiled and Merlin's fingers left his hair to trace his lips. He opened his mouth and caught a forefinger between his teeth.
"Now that you've got me, what do you plan to do with me?"
Harry stared at him, knowing that answering would mean letting him go.
Merlin smirked. "You look like a puppy."
"Oh for-"
A pillow to the face did little to stop the laughter from issuing out of him, so Harry decided drastic measure were needed, and straddled him. He had his wrists in hand, arms above his head, they were nose to nose, and still he shook with laughter.
"I am not a puppy, or a school boy, or-"
Merlin lifted himself up and kissed him. His mouth was warm and his own lips still ached from all their use earlier, so he held himself against the onslaught and simply moaned. Merlin dropped back down to the mattress once Harry's tirade was sufficiently derailed.
"You're a fine man, Harry. Even if you are currently holding someone unjustly."
"Unjustly?" He lowered his mouth to Merlin's ear. "I'll show you unjust." He tugged at his earlobe with his teeth before dragging his mouth down his throat, teeth scratching against the pulse point on his neck.
Merlin shuddered underneath him, and Harry released his wrists, hands moving to his sides. Harry kissed the hollow of his throat before laying his head against his shoulder, relaxing into a loose embrace around him. Merlin was still for just a moment before a much quicker, and softer, burst of laughter came out of him.
"Unjust, indeed."
Harry hummed as Merlin's arms wrapped around him. He did not let his eyes drift shut again, though he wished he could. The heartbeat under his ear was calm and familiar, though even that lullaby wouldn't pull him towards sleep. Merlin's fingers tightened against his skin, forewarning that the urgency of their lives could not be much longer ignored.
Harry had been asleep longer than he thought. The precious time Merlin had set aside for them had run out, most of it wasted while he slept. Of course, Merlin would insist that was the real reason for this delay on the way back to HQ, but quality time was found where it could. It would be a long time before they could allow, or even manage, this kind of luxury again.
They never had enough time.