This is nearly entirely drivel, but I hope you'll forgive me. Could possibly be the finale, I haven't quite decided yet...

Chapter Nine

"Arthur,"

A voice was drifting in and out of his subconscious, bleeding into the argument that was screaming through his dreams. And Arthur responded, taking it's hand, ready to let it pull him from the horror of his father's face and to that boyish, grinning, adorable face he never wanted to lose. "Merlin," he replied, still not entirely with it.

"Arthur, wake up, your eyes aren't even open," Merlin chuckled, too excited for words about what he had just done, (Careful)

"Don't be stupid, I don't need my eyes open to argue with you..." Arthur muttered, much to Merlin's confusion,

"What? Why would we be arguing?"

Arthur stirred, eventually his eyelids flickered open, sticky with dried tears and red with strain, "Merlin, what are you doing?"

"I'm taking you out," Merlin smiled, and Arthur had to gasp for breath, overcome by the sheer delight it exuded. But also wondering if he'd misunderstood the statement.

"Excuse me?!"

"Nope, I'm not going to explain anymore. Explanation's never really explain anything, and plus, it's a surprise," he laughed, his excitement heightening his voice and bringing it in and out of audibility, "But you need to get up," he took a deep breath, and the obviousness of how happy Merlin was with himself was already rubbing off on Arthur. Like a light would pierce the darkness, Merlin was flooding his anger and sadness with a serene contentment.

"Right away, sir," he mocked and reluctantly hoisted himself up and out of bed, feeling queasy at what he saw. "Merlin..." he was speechless. The room was a tip, shoes and underwear strewn all across the floor, hangers thrown aimlessly into corners, but it wasn't that. It was the string of untidily tied together clothes, wrapped around the bottom bed post and then disappearing out of the window, that stung his chest.

"I don't know if this is how it happened, well, obviously it's not because it was you who made the string, not me. And I don't know if this is exactly what you meant by a string of clothes, but I did my best, and this is how I imagined it. I'm almost certain it's pretty close though..." Merlin was rambling, getting redder and redder with anticipation, fidgeting like a small child.

Arthur grabbed his shoulder and pulled him towards him, and drawing him into a tight embrace. He'd wanted to do more, but he didn't want to spoil what Merlin had done for him. Only one question remained. "Why?"

Merlin, at first, couldn't summon enough breath nor sanity to answer, at least not coherently. His heart was swelling again, bursting out of his chest as if it would scatter pink fireworks across the ceiling, painting the walls and floors fuchsia with glittering dust. He grabbed Arthur's shoulders back, only he pulled him away from him. He didn't think he could endure the heady scent any longer without being able to... "You were upset, last night..." Arthur opened his mouth to object but Merlin put a finger on his lips, which made Arthur shiver. The soft cold running thin fingers down his spine. "Don't pretend you weren't, I both heard and saw you," he sighed, breathing out the amount of Arthur's breath he'd been trying to hold in his mouth, "I wanted to cheer you up, I knew it could either go horribly wrong or quite well, I just hoped for the best,"

Arthur was grinning, he couldn't control what his mind was thinking. He looked around at Merlin's work, wallowing in the idea that Merlin had done all of this for him. "Come on," he slapped Merlin on the top of the arm and beckoned for him to follow. He lowered himself down the rope, and Merlin regarded with silent joy at how effortless the leap was. In fact, he almost spiralled down the rope. He could tell he'd done it before.

Arthur was now at the bottom of the rope, staring up at the boy he suddenly knew he could not live without, the boy stood on the white window ledge, gripping to the spare wood beside him for dear life. And he could not help but smile.

"Merlin, don't be a wimp, grab the rope. That's it. You're going to have to turn around, you won't get down forwards! Wrap your legs around it..." he gasped, his last words driving something in his stomach to a muffled form of ecstasy. "Seriously, I do despair of you sometimes,"

"All right, all right," Merlin whispered back, his voice incredibly unsteady, he hadn't thought about his own reaction. It hadn't seemed important that he would potentially be risking his life to win Arthur. Because, when it came down to it, that's what he was trying to do, win Arthur. And now he knew it, he would climb out of a billion windows if it meant he could be with him.

That was all he needed to spur him downwards, not the thought of a billion windows, but the realisation of why he was doing this. This was his last chance...

He fumbled around for another knot to put his foot on, and blindly climbed down the following metre, and then the next, and the next. Putting a shaking foot on the ground in no less than fifteen minutes. By which time, Arthur's hysterical laughter had been and gone, making it's impression on Merlin's mind, resembling the noise of Arthur's happiness when they had read together.

He stood on jellied legs and turned to Arthur, who was sat against a twisted Oak, pulling pieces of frosted grass in half. "Wahey! Nice to see the idiot's decided to join me," the boy said, pulling himself to his feet, hiding the truth in his words behind the teasing punch of sarcasm.

"Yes, well, I don't know if you've realised, but you look a complete Prat in those reindeer slippers!" Merlin snapped gesturing to Arthur's feet, but his voice was never harsh, he quickly changed the subject, no wanting to sound coarse, "Right, which way?"

Within the second Arthur had Merlin's hand, not feeling the need to hide anything from him now. This was the time. He knew it. He dragged him between the trees, running as he had run on that camping night, running aimlessly, only for a different purpose. He didn't want his mind to be cleared, he wanted it to be full. Full of Merlin, full of how he felt. He wanted it to enhance the very essence, the very spark of who he was, what he stood for, and what he wanted. And Merlin was, and always had been, the key.

"Woah, Arthur, slow down! you should know by now I'm not good on my feet," he shrieked, after having to straighten his flicking legs after they'd decided to swing out from underneath him.

"I'm not slowing down! Why should I? I'll carry you if I have to!" Arthur laughed, and Merlin giggled at the suggestion, considering the option of deliberately throwing himself onto the floor so Arthur would have to. But, then, he didn't know how long he could go with that selfish act on his conscience.

"I thought you didn't want to have to carry me, remember?"

Arthur did remember, back, only two days ago, but it felt like years, decades even. A different reality, so much had changed inside him. That uncertainty blossoming into assurance, confidence. Even then, when Merlin had been struggling to stay on his feet, he would have gladly carried him. Any chance to be closer to the person that captivated him so entirely.

Arthur swung around a tree, and into a clearing. The moon sending alabaster golden rays scattering across the uncut grass, weaving between the trees and casting crisp defined shadows. Arthur turned back to Merlin, tearing their hands apart as if their skin had fused together. And to both of them, secretly, it felt as though it had.

Merlin was distracted, he didn't know if Arthur had been talking, if he wanted Merlin to talk or if it was even necessary. He was completely enthralled by the vision in front of him, like a painting, a photographically realistic painting, that was too radiant to be real. The only validation that he was even alive was the playful ruffle of his hair in the wind. But even that was diminished by Arthur. The white-gold shimmer sparkling off his hair, the twinkle of gentle, subtle, kind mischievousness in his eyes, and the shadows of lashes, cheekbones and lips that darkened the hollows of his face. Earlier, he had thought Arthur in the sunlight to be like a sculpture, a sculpture that no one would ever see the like. But this was entirely different, measured on a different scale of gloriousness. Once Merlin had seen this, he knew, nothing would ever be called beautiful by his lips again.

Arthur was thinking much the same, only the object of his affections required such different comparisons. The playful smiled that drew all attention to his lips, the blissfully calm swimming of his turquoise eyes and the light that danced on the tops of his cheekbones and highlighted the tips of his ears, were all so much lighter. 'Captivating' was no longer a word Arthur felt he could realistically use to describe Merlin, it was too shallow. As if the only thing that Arthur ever saw in him was his appearance. Which at the beginning was probably true. But now, after what Merlin had done, and the thought that he'd thunk to stumble across it was mind-blowing. Merlin was every person in the world, filtered, perfected and then squeezed into one skinny, pale body. But the worst bit was, the bit that got to Arthur most, made him jealous, made him angry, made him hurt, but made him love, was the fact that it all fit perfectly inside this tiny body without a problem, and with no room for hostility and greed, as if Merlin had been cast this very shape to allow those peaceful, remarkable qualities to crawl inside him. To make him outstanding. Perfection in human form. Arthur could only hope to be like him. At least in a way, he had only hoped to be like him. But now he realised, he just wanted to be with him. Whatever it took. However many father's he would lose, and how many enemies he would make. He would bring all the shame it took over his father and his reputation. As long as he had Merlin. He didn't care.

Arthur lay down in the willowy green slips, almost disappearing completely from sight. If it wasn't for the glow that his hair was emitting, Merlin would have lost him entirely. His hands were behind his head, as they had been in the tent, but despite the bitter evening chill, he was warm. Hot even. Hot with burning desire that fizzed with elation.

Merlin hesitated at first, but then nervously wandered over to him, crouched, and laid beside him. Casually shifting his foot so he carefully brushed Arthur's toes, the antlers of the reindeer, which made him chuckle internally. He thought it strange how the slightest contact made him feel even better, as if he felt closer to him emotionally. He thought Arthur hadn't noticed. But, of course, he had.

Grass was tingling against his forehead, blocking Arthur from view, but for once, he didn't feel the need to look at him to appreciate him. He was happy just being so close. Knowing that all he had to do was reach out, and he could touch...

"Arthur?" he asked, his voice just a breathy sigh,

"What is it now, Merlin? I was just enjoying the quiet," he teased in response,

"When you were fourteen, what did you do? I mean, once you'd snuck out," he didn't want to be seen as nosy, but he wanted to prompt Arthur into conversation, so he could hear his voice.

Arthur didn't reply at first, not quite understanding why the question had been asked. And then, like a choker around his neck being mortally tightened, he felt it. He'd said that Merlin was too selfless to figure out his feelings, but he knew that he, himself, was not. He would consider the possibility, let it roll around his tongue, through his conscious mind, and then patter through his subconscious, until he finally believed it. He thought back, searching for clues, his mind drifting back to when he first met Merlin. In physics. What had he said, it was something that Arthur had heard, part of him wanted to read it as something, but part of him extinguished that thought before it could progress into a belief.

" Mum reckoned this place would straighten me out,"

He gasped internally, then turned back to the question in hand. Eyes wide, propping himself up on his elbow so he could see that face again above the long un-mown grass. He grinned, openly, "nothing much, I was too young to... Initiate something too serious," he smiled as Merlin raised an eyebrow, "I guess my father's kind of right in a way, it was just because I could, even thought at the time it felt like something ridiculously huge. Y'know, love,"

He'd said love as if it were some forbidden word, which made Merlin's heart tingle, "and, did you see this boy again?"

"Yes, for a few days, we decided to... Split up," he grimaced at how awful that sounded, "after my father's reaction." Arthur was watching Merlin, with that ablaze intensity in his eyes again, 'This is it,' he kept thinking, 'This is really it', "But Merlin, there's something I think you should know, and, please," he begged, pleading with both himself and Merlin, how much could anyone want a happy ending, "I'm only telling you because I know you have a right to find out..."

Merlin was enduring an out of body experience, his soul now an entirely different being to his body. Arthur's words were making him hope, that was something he'd hoped they wouldn't do. He didn't dare... He couldn't think that... He wouldn't let himself...

"I thought that was it, I thought that was what it felt like. When I snuck out, I thought that was what defined me, I thought that my feelings for that boy were... Everything there was to feel. And at the time, I didn't want that to change, I thought it never would..." he paused, eyeing his companion closely, assessing whether or not he should go ahead, whether or not Merlin was in an understanding mood as he had been earlier that afternoon. But something in the back of his head forced him to speak. That inkling that this was his last chance. At least, it felt like it.

Merlin nodded him onwards, still innocent with that denial Arthur had spoke of,

"But, then, I met someone else, someone who at first, I thought nothing of. Only that he had an unusual face, and an unusual unconditional kindness. Of course, it was only natural that I should be... Captivated," he winced, he didn't want to have to use that word, but he could find no other, "I got to know him, recently, and I realised that he wasn't just kind and attractive. He was selfless, thoughtful, and insanely perfect." he sighed again, blowing warm air against Merlin's cheekbones. "I'm sorry Merlin, I know you never meant to have this affect, but I just couldn't help it..."

Merlin was watching, in euphoric awe. Making all the connections before Arthur had had the chance to speak them. And he was aching, aching all over. With frustration, desire and disbelief. If only he'd known sooner, who knows what would have happened?

Merlin too propped himself up on his arm, face mere millimetres from Arthur's. Their trembling breaths fighting against each other, creating some invisible barrier that seemed to be keeping them apart, but at the same time, so close. "Arthur..." he murmured, reciting all the clichés in his mind, trying desperately to find one that would do how he felt justice, 'I've never met anyone like you before, nothing can compare to how I feel, you cannot begin to understand how much I have come to love you, I cannot put into words my emotions'. But none of them. His feelings were not words, as many would assume they were. They were fires, and ice, and darkness, and light, and sugar, and salt, and the air, and the ground, the sky, and the water, the day and the night. Lifeblood and death. Unconditional and shattered. Irreversibly pure.

He didn't think. It was not like he needed to anymore. As Arthur's icy lips brushed, caressed his own, he was no longer the speaker of words, just emotions. A cloud of brilliant feeling. The nerves and blood and adrenaline that made you feel were all that he was aware of. That and the slip of a tongue against his lower lip as he turned his head. Giving in to something he'd never wanted to fight.

Arthur's free hand ran along Merlin waist, causing the shudder of pleasure that he'd desired. Eventually resting on the back of the dark-haired boy's head, threading it's fingers through the soft tresses, pressing their lips closer together. Teeth clicked under the pressure, their mouths heating with the pressure, the pain. But it only increased the pleasure, amplified their determination for more pain, more pressure. The more it hurt, the more Merlin felt he was healing. The more he felt the aching pang ricocheting through his skull, the more he wanted it. Arthur's breath bounding off his skin gave him reason to move in closer, he wanted... No, he needed, to be warmer...

However, if we delved into the mind of Arthur, as we delved into Merlin's description. There would be silence. He didn't think, that was what he was like, what he was actually like. Being confronted by his father, that was the only reason he would ever need to think again. To face his father. But with Merlin, now they both knew, he could get away with the perfect ignorance of just letting Merlin do the thinking. Arthur would talk, and Merlin would think. Two necessities that would be useless without the other. Two bookends, although the comparison is typical. The blue of the sky and the blue of the sea. A spear and it's wielder. Two hands. Two lips.

Two sides of the same shining coin.