Chapter Two.
The door was opened halfway when Merlin reached it, and he gave a huff of frustration as he pushed it open fully to step through.
"Arthur, you have to start closing the door," he called into the flat once he was through the threshold, and kicked the door shut behind him. Arthur appeared from the corridor. "This isn't Camelot. People will come in and steal things—and there will be no guards to stop them."
It's a conversation they've had umpteen times, but it never seemed to stick in Arthur's head. Part of Merlin thought that Arthur was doing it deliberately, just to annoy him.
"I have you," Arthur said innocently. "Can't you just—," he waved his hand vaguely, "—zap any intruders away."
Merlin raised a brow. "I'm not here all the time."
"Then we'll just have to invest in guards," Arthur said.
"Or you could learn to listen to me."
Arthur wrinkled his nose. "I think hiring guards would be easier."
Merlin knew it was fruitless to argue, so he dropped his pack on the sofa and took Arthur in. He could tell Arthur was still pissed at him for earlier, but his shoulders were no longer tense and his jaw wasn't a tight line. Merlin supposed all Arthur needed was a little exercise and some sun to get his mind off things.
"How was the match?" Merlin asked and plopped down on the sofa.
Arthur leaned against the wall, skeptical of Merlin's interest; but how could Merlin not have his full attention on Arthur? His blue eyes were intensified against the red of the jersey he was still wearing, and he looked damn handsome under the grime and sweat that didn't quite wash away when he attempted to rinse it from his face.
"Child's play," Arthur said, grinning at the recent memory. "Victory isn't even the right word."
"A demolition," Merlin offered. It was a joke they'd told a dozen times.
"A burial!" Arthur said, playing along.
They both chuckled softly. In truth, Merlin was happy that Arthur had found something about this century he thoroughly enjoyed. After all, it was more than Merlin could say.
"Anyway, the lads are going out later on to celebrate," Arthur told him. "I thought maybe you'd like to come along."
Merlin's smile flickered, and Arthur caught it.
"It's just—they've heard all about you, Merlin. Well, mostly all about you," and Merlin didn't know if Arthur was implying the "thousand year old wizard" information or the "junkie" information. He supposed both were omitted.
Arthur shrugged. "I think you'll get on. They're good men."
"They're your men," Merlin said. "Arthur Pendragon and the Knights of the Round Football." Arthur raised his brow, but Merlin powered through. "I'd love to, Arthur, but I haven't gone to the shop yet."
Arthur glared at him. "The shop."
"Well," Merlin started, trying to remember what Arthur had said earlier. "We're out of almost everything."
He didn't suppose Arthur believed him.
And he was right. "Do what you will. As long as I don't have to bail you out of jail," he said, nonplussed. "Again."
Merlin looked smug. "And you thought you'd be the only one who could ever lock me in the dungeons."
"Don't try to be cute, Merlin. It doesn't become you."
Merlin threw his arms up in defeat. "Oh, it's only the shop—honestly!" But Arthur wasn't convinced.
What Merlin needed right now was a distraction—something to get Arthur's mind off of the questions circulating in that head of his. What better than the oldest distraction in the book?
"Oh, come on, Arthur," Merlin said, a smile pressed to his lips as he stood up from the sofa and strode towards Arthur. "Tell you what: Why don't I meet you at the pub?" He placed his palms on Arthur's chest and grinned innocently up at him.
Arthur looked dubious. "Really? You want to?"
"Of course! Right after I go to the shop, I'll come by and buy a round."
Arthur put his hands on Merlin's waist. "Why don't we go to the shop together, then?"
Merlin bit the inside of his mouth and tilted his head to the side, feigning consideration. "No, Arthur—look. You're the team captain! You've got to be there in time for the celebratory toast. No, no. I'll catch you up."
Arthur stared at him hard for a moment or two, but he seemed satisfied, which Merlin was grateful for. After all, once Arthur had a few drinks in him, he'd hardly notice that Merlin never showed up.
"In the meantime," Merlin said. "Why don't we have a celebration of our own?"
Arthur raised a brow, and then brought his lips in towards Merlin, who chortled and leaned away.
"Oh, no! You'll have to make it another victory," he teased, and he broke from Arthur's grip.
Arthur was giving him desperate eyes, but Merlin wasn't going to be swayed by them. He gave another snicker and ran through the flat. Arthur chased after him, and his laughter reached Merlin before its owner did. He tricked Arthur by feigning towards the kitchen at one point, only to rush back into the main room, where Arthur finally cornered him. Merlin fell backwards onto the sofa, and Arthur grabbed Merlin's wrist and tossed him over his shoulder. It never failed to surprise Merlin when Arthur did that; he was not light by any means, but Arthur picked him up as though he were a feather.
"I win," Arthur said like it was a matter of fact, and Merlin pounded his fists softly on Arthur's back as he was carried into the bedroom.
Arthur dumped Merlin onto the mattress and they eyed each other greedily before Arthur crawled on top of him. They pecked at each other's lips, and Arthur tasted sweet: like salt mixed with soap, but there was still a hint of the familiar musk of the Old World lingering stubbornly on his skin. It reminded Merlin of Camelot, and images of the city flashed behind his eyes as his fingers expertly explored the curves and muscles of Arthur's back, making his shirt bunch up. He had to lean his head up to chase Arthur's lips a few times when he would attempt to lean away for oxygen, but Arthur didn't seem to mind not breathing.
Until, at last, he broke free of the kiss and stared down at Merlin with an unreadable expression. He appeared to be thinking, and Merlin couldn't have any of that.
"But you will come, Merlin? To the pub?"
Merlin had to make a conscious effort not to roll his eyes. "Oh, shut up," he breathed and quickly grabbed the back of Arthur's neck and forced their lips together. They did not part until their clothes were littered about the bedside and Merlin was digging his fingernails into Arthur's bare ass. And the topic was forgotten.
Arthur ran his teeth across Merlin's skin, leaving wet trail in their wake, and Merlin hardened against Arthur's hip. He trailed his palms between Arthur's legs, letting out small gasps as Arthur ran circles with his tongue around his nipple.
He reached down and, cupping Merlin in his hand, began rubbing up and down. The friction caused Merlin to writhe beneath Arthur, and he had to hold Arthur's sides to steady himself.
"Come on, come on, Merlin," Arthur was panting, his voice etched with frustration. It made a deep laugh escape Merlin's throat.
"I thought I told you to shut up," he reposed through breaths, but he complied when Arthur rose to his knees.
He had to clutch at the under sheet at first, causing one of the corners to snap off the mattress, but it wasn't long before the pleasure sensations won over and he wrapped his slender fingers around his cock and started working on himself. As their bodies crashed together and rocked back and forth, Merlin briefly wondered why he even bothered getting high when he had Arthur all to himself. All the same, he was happy Arthur had finally stopped questioning him.
Arthur placed his sweaty palms on Merlin's back, his breath coming out more labored than before. Merlin's entire body was thumping in tandem with his heart, and they suddenly heard a loud series of beeps and whistles coming from the kitchen as every appliance kicked on; there was also the faint buzz of static that could be heard from the television. Magic never really mixed well with electricity.
"Shit," Arthur said, his voice a mixture of amusement and shock.
"Just—just leave it," Merlin managed to say through hitching breaths. "Just let it happen."
Despite the fact that both of them thought Merlin might blow out the electricity of the entire estate if they kept up, they didn't very much care. Arthur let out a whoop of laughter, and the sound resonated down Merlin's spine, making him shake. And, luckily, the electricity in the complex held firm.
Merlin collapsed onto the mattress, sprawled out, and Arthur leaned down and wrapped his arms around his torso, still planting kisses on Merlin's back before eventually rolling off. Merlin turned over to lie on his back, too, and Arthur immediately slapped the back of his hand to Merlin's chest.
"One of these days, you're going to start a fire and we won't even know it," he told Merlin with humor in his voice.
Merlin looked up at the ceiling in thought, a grin plastered onto his face. "Actually, I think I might have done that once in Camelot," he admitted.
Arthur turned his head sharply to look at Merlin with wide eyes, and Merlin met them with growing apprehension that quickly turned back into laughter.
"Ha!" Arthur bellowed, and Merlin clapped a hand over his own mouth.
The sun was a pink line on the horizon by the time Merlin tried to creep out of bed, but Arthur put a strong arm around Merlin's waist and dragged him back in. This made the last corner of the under sheet come off the bed.
"Where do you think you're going?" Arthur said into Merlin's hair.
Merlin tried to look at him out of the corner of his eyes. "To the shop," he said. "Like I promised."
"Mmm. The shop is dull."
"You won't be saying that when you can't have your breakfast tomorrow," Merlin quipped. "Anyway, you'd better wash before you go out."
Arthur placed a tender kiss onto Merlin's shoulder blade. "Or you could wash me—like you used to. That was always your favorite chore."
Merlin smirked. "Chore. You've got that right."
That earned him a hard pinch on the ass, which made him start and kick under the blankets. Arthur chuckled evilly as Merlin sat up and glared down at him.
"Have a shower, or you'll be late," he said sharply, and when Arthur opened his mouth to protest, Merlin pressed his index figure to Arthur's lips. "I'll only slow you down."
"In the good way?" Arthur wondered aloud, and his breath was warm against Merlin's finger. It was tempting, to say the least, especially when Arthur parted his lips and ran the tip of his tongue down to Merlin's knuckle. So Merlin removed the finger, unsteadying Arthur for a moment.
"No, I'll keep spitting water in your face until you get the message to wash it!"
"You're no fun," Arthur groaned.
Merlin leaned down at kissed his temple. "No," he agreed.
Arthur gave him one last hopeful look up and down before tearing himself from the sheets and walking stark naked out of the room. Merlin waited until he heard the water start running before springing into action.
Merlin blew puffs into the cold air, watching his breath cascade around him before fading away into the darkness. Well, he supposed it wasn't that dark, after all. The city lights painted the world in a variety of colors, all coming together in a warm glow that flickered against the sky. He shoved his hands into his pockets and looked up at the heavy moon, but there were no pricks of lights scattered about it.
He couldn't remember the last time he had seen stars—really seen them—and that was his least favorite part of this century. It made him feel disconnected—trapped, like he was living underground. He longed for that beautiful night sky in the time before electricity, when people stared up at the stars and didn't know all of eternity was staring back.
"Hey, mate. Enjoying the view?"
The voice brought Merlin back down to Earth, to the empty car park he was standing in, outside a boarded up retail store.
"Seen better," Merlin told the scruffy man who had joined him. He wore a beaten leather jacket over a sweater, with the hood pulled low over his face.
Merlin removed his hand from his pocket and offered it to the man, who grasped it and gave it a friendly shake. During the greeting, Merlin felt a small bag press into his palm, and wrapped his fingers around it in a fist before shoving his hand back into his jacket.
"How much, Jack?"
Jack looked around him casually. "Fifty," he said, and Merlin swallowed hard, which Jack clocked. "Ah, I know you're good for it, man. Haven't let me down yet."
Merlin gave a shallow laugh, relieved. "I'll have it for you by next week," he promised. "Working double shifts for the next three days."
"Hey, I'll hold you to that. Don't make me break those pretty fingers," Jack joked, slapping Merlin on the shoulder. At least, Merlin thought he was joking.
He thought it was best to smile back regardless. "Don't worry."
A vibration came from Jack's pocket, and he produced his phone. The small screen added to the glow of the blinding city.
"I gotta head out," he said, not even glancing up at Merlin again. "Time is money."
"Time is a lot of things," Merlin said, and waved Jack off.
Once he was alone again, he looked around his surroundings, checking if anyone were around. He spotted a CCTV camera eyeing him on a pole across the street, so he decided to duck into the alley next to the abandoned shop. There, his only company was rat-infested bins and scurrying bugs, none of which had objections.
He crouched down next to the stone wall and rolled up his shirtsleeve, feeling for veins in his arm. It didn't take long for him to find one, and he muttered a thanks to Gaius, wherever he may be, for the medical training.
Oh, if Gaius could see him now…
Merlin lost himself for a moment, trying to place his old friend's face, but could not. And he couldn't stand the conscious world any longer.
Nearly an hour had passed by the time Merlin was headed back to the flat, and he still hadn't gone to the shop—which he needed to do in order to maintain plausible deniability. He took his mobile out and punched Arthur's contact information. After a dozen rings, it went to Arthur's outgoing message.
"Hi, sorry, I got a bit held up at the shop," he said into the mouthpiece, his eyes to the pavement as he walked the still-crowded street. "They were in the middle of restocking, so I had to wait around for a bit for the basics. So, don't worry. I'll be home in—"
Someone sidestepped out of the alley just ahead of Merlin, and Merlin nearly bumped into him but saved himself in the last moment after seeing the man's shoes. The man's familiar shoes. His words caught in his throat as his eyes slowly made their way up to the man's face.
"Right," he said into the phone. "So, I'm looking at you right now. I've got to say, you look cross—but it suites you, yeah. You look extraordinarily handsome."
Arthur rolled his eyes.
"Really, you do… Okay, I'm going to hang up now, but I bet you'll feel incredibly embarrassed about yelling at me in the middle of the street with all these people around, so keep that in mind."
Arthur raised a brow as though in serious doubt about that point.
Merlin shrugged. "And, yeah. I love you. And I'm an ass—"
To this, Arthur gave an exaggerated frown and skewed his eyes upward in consideration before nodding in agreement.
"—Okay. Goodbye."
He ended the call and put the phone back into his pocket, and then cautiously met Arthur's glare with an innocent smile.
"Arthur, hello," he said, trying to play it cool. "I thought you'd be home by now. Is the pub around here?"
"No, it's not. I sat drinks out tonight." Arthur licked his lips. "Buy anything nice at the shop?" he asked, a bite to his tone.
Merlin nodded quickly. "Yeah, yeah—I mean, no. They—they were closed."
"It takes you two hours to figure that out, does it?"
"Well, the 'closed' sign isn't very big…"
Arthur let out a bitter laugh and looked off. "I saw you in the car park," he said at last. "I waited for you in the car park."
Merlin narrowed his eyes. "You followed me?"
Arthur said nothing. He turned around and started down the street, his shoulders in a tense line.
"Arthur!" Merlin called after him. "Arthur, come on! I—" He groaned, knowing what comes next.
"You lied to me! Again!"
"Arthur, at least wait until the door is closed," Merlin said, softly shutting the front door that Arthur had slammed open as he stampeded into the flat with Merlin in toe.
"And do you know why you lied, Merlin?" he said, turning around to face him. "Because what you're doing is wrong. And you know it's wrong."
"No, I lied to avoid this," Merlin corrected. His blood was already starting to boil. "And what do you mean wrong? What is this—church? What would you possibly know about it?"
"I know enough! I know what it does to you—what it makes you act like. And I don't like it!"
Merlin threw his arms in the air. "Oh, let's just do everything the way you like it, then! Shall I phone the Prime Minister? Tell him you're taking over again?" He pushed passed Arthur into the main room, but Arthur wasn't done berating him. He followed Merlin.
"I just don't understand, Merlin," he said. "What's going on in that idiotic head of yours? Is the world really that bad?"
This stopped Merlin in his tracks. He looked back at Arthur sharply. "No. Not day by day. But when you look at it as a whole… No one was ever meant to look at it as a whole."
"Merlin—" His voice was softer now.
He waved it away. "You wouldn't understand."
And the edge in Arthur's tone was back. "No, I wouldn't! Because you never tell me anything!"
"What's there to tell?"
"There's a thousand years worth of things to tell! But you never say—" He tightened his jaw. "You never say anything. And yet, you can't seem to leave the past behind. You keep letting it take you over. It's ruining you."
Merlin thought this was a bit melodramatic. "It's not ruining me, Arthur."
"Oh, it's not?" Arthur held his hand out close to Merlin's face and began snapping repeatedly before his eyes. "Is it? Is it? Is it?" he snipped as he did so, and Merlin stumbled a step backwards and tried to blink away the disorientation.
Arthur grabbed a throw pillow from the sofa and tossed it at Merlin. "Catch," he warned, but it bounced off of Merlin's shoulder. Arthur then picked up a forgotten mug from the end table. "No? How about this?" He tossed it into the air above him, and Merlin's eyes flashed a dull gold to stop gravity from shattering the mug, but he was a fraction too slow.
"Reflexes not what they used to be, Merlin?"
"No!" Merlin shouted back. "I guess that's what comes along with age." It's a card he'd played hundreds of times, and it seemed like it wasn't going to fly this time.
Arthur shook his head and gripped the top of the sofa. "Oh, spare me," he spat. "Just let me in, Merlin! I'm here now—I'm with you! Yet, all you do is chase ghosts."
"Of course, I do. It's all I know," Merlin told him, perturbed, but there was haunted look about him. "You took the fast path, Arthur. You don't know what it's like, so how can you sit there and judge? You've never approved of what I am! Just because you think you're so much better than everyone else—so high and mighty—"
"I have never thought myself better than anyone—especially you," Arthur defended. He gestured vaguely with his hands, taking Merlin in. "You've just changed so much, Merlin. So much. I never wanted that for you."
Merlin regarded him coldly. "Well, I'm sorry you didn't get what you wanted."
"Fine, not wanted," Arthur conceded. "But I had hoped—"
"Well, don't!" Merlin cut him off frigidly. "Hope if for children, Arthur. Hope only leaves you dried out and disappointed—with nothing but old age and a lifetime of what ifs. And I would appreciate it if you didn't use such terrible words like hope in front of me."
There was a pause in which Arthur studied him, his face solemn. "Do you want to die?"
"It doesn't matter."
"Do you want to die?"
Merlin bit his tongue. He didn't want to consider the question, but he couldn't help it. After all, it was all he ever considered.
"I did," he said at last. "For a long time. But not anymore, alright?"
"Why not?"
"Because of you, you prick! Why do you think?" Merlin let out a sigh, finally able to meet Arthur's searching eyes. "You came back. You made it better. I—" He shrugged. "I'm happy."
Arthur looked down at the sofa. "Evidently, not enough," he muttered.
"What?"
"Nothing."
"No, say it." Merlin was trying to pick a fight now. He gestured to Arthur. "Go on."
Arthur let out a heavy sigh, which he seemed to have been holding in for a long, long time. "It's just—it's hard, Merlin. You're right; I don't know what you've been through. I can't begin to know. But to watch you… destroy yourself—"
"I'm not destroying myself!" Merlin interjected loudly. "I can't die!"
"You don't know that!" Arthur argued. "Now that I'm back, you don't know what's going to happen! Neither do I, but I can't navigate this world without you, Merlin. I don't understand it! I'm useless in it! It's too—" He searched for the right words. "—too big," he decided on lamely. "I don't even know how to ride the tube—or what a tube even is! And, I don't mean to sound ungrateful—"
"Well, you are!"
"—But you're not helping!"
Merlin couldn't believe what he was hearing. "That's not true," he said defensively. "I've taught you a lot."
"No, you've taught me basic things. It's not enough," Arthur admitted. "I'm just trying to help, Merlin—to help you. But how can I when I don't know how? I've had to be entirely self-sufficient in a completely different world! And ever since I came back—"
"Yeah, why did you come back?" Merlin asked callously. "The world isn't any more shit than it usually is. What, is it to babysit me?"
Arthur thought on this. "Maybe, yes."
"Well, if I needed a babysitter, Avalon could have spit out my mum. Or Gaius, for that matter! So, why don't you just go back where you came from and leave me the fuck alone!" The words were out of his mouth before he could undo it, and Merlin was willing to admit that perhaps that was going a bit too far.
Arthur looked at him with wide eyes and a slack jaw for a few moments of heavy silence.
"Arthur—" Merlin started, trying to take it back, but he didn't know what to say.
Arthur was completely speechless. Until he wasn't.
He backed up from the sofa and towards the door. "I can't—I just don't think I can be around you right now, Merlin."
Instantly, Merlin felt rage in his heart again. "Fine!" he snapped. "Go! Just leave again! I was getting on fine with out you before! I'm not your servant anymore, Arthur; I don't have to do as you say! No one does! You're not King anymore—you're nothing!"
Arthur grabbed his jacket from the rack and shot Merlin a tight smile. "Phone me when you have a clear mind," he said through his teeth, and tore the front door open.
Merlin rushed towards him. "Don't forget to slam the door—let the whole estate know you didn't get your way, your majesty!"
And Arthur did slam the door, but it only made Merlin feel empty.
"Fuck!" he shouted, and toaster in the kitchen shattered into a million pieces.
Arthur returned a few hours later, but he did not speak to Merlin. He silently sat down on the sofa and turned on the television, but didn't seem remotely interested in anything that was on as he flipped through the channels.
By that point, Merlin had regretted everything that he said, but didn't know how to take it back with it sounding genuine. After all, they both knew this wasn't their first fight—and it wouldn't be their last.
He paced out of the kitchen with a mug of tea and stopped in front of the sofa, holding it out towards Arthur as a peace offering. It wasn't much, but it was all he had.
Arthur warily looked from the mug, to Merlin, and back again.
"It's not poisoned!" Merlin snapped, and instantly shot Arthur apologetic eyes.
Arthur looked taken aback for a moment, but he cleared his throat and straightened up. "I didn't think it was," he said softly and relieved Merlin of the mug, taking a sip.
Merlin sat down on the next cushion, trying to keep a safe distance from Arthur as he attempted to gage his reaction out of the corner of his eyes. Arthur kept his gaze forward, but he wasn't paying attention to the TV.
"I'm glad you're here," Merlin said softly, because he didn't know what else to say, and because it was the truth.
Arthur placed the mug of tea on the table before them, not looking at Merlin. "I know," he answered.
Finally, their eyes met, and Merlin gave a timid half-smile before Arthur reached for him and wrapped him in his arms.