A Prince in Frog Skin

by AelysAlthea

Arthur lived how he wanted. Exactly how he wanted. Unfortunately, as a prince, what he wanted didn't exactly follow the guidelines of what the rest of the world considered 'proper'. No one had the guts to do anything about it, however. No one until Nimueh. Thrown into decidedly impossible circumstances against his will and outside of his capacity to correct, Arthur is forced...

10. Chapter 10 - Adulthood

Chapter 10: Adulthood

Merlin scrubbed a hand over his face as he pushed the car door closed with his hip, the thumb of his other hand tapping out a quick message as he did. He barely considered what he was doing, barely thought about the words he sent but to ensure that they made him sound upbeat, casual, normal.

Lance was worried about him. For some unknown and entirely illogical reason, he'd said he was worried for him. Merlin had called him offhandedly several days before with the simple thought of catching up with one of his oldest friends, but apparently Lance had seen it as more than that.

Something was wrong. That was how Lance had phrased it, and as he spoke he sounded very much like he knew what it was. Merlin did too, of course, but Lance didn't need to know about that. Or at least he didn't have to have any of his suspicions confirmed. It wasn't that obvious, was it? Merlin wasn't that worrisome, surely. Besides, in recent weeks he'd been getting better. Things had almost settled back to normal.

If only Merlin could convince himself of that fact.

"I'm home," Merlin called out vaguely as he stepped through the door, slipping his shoes off and starting down the hallway. He paused to stick his head into the living room, then into the dining room in search of his mother. It was only afternoon and she was likely still working down at the paddocks as she'd suggested she would that morning, but he would always check. It had become automatic to do so since… Merlin couldn't even remember how long.

She wasn't there. Neither was Balinor for that matter, which Merlin could only be tentatively grateful for. Balinor hadn't disappeared at a moment's notice – not yet, at least, for Merlin wouldn't hold high – and he'd even started to come out of his study and his one-track mind of work at the university. He'd been helping out on the farm more and more of late, and though he'd never been able to talk to horses, never been able to speak to anything but reptiles, he had a way with them nonetheless. Hunith was ecstatic for it, though she pretended she wasn't.

Merlin wondered if perhaps she'd had a talk to Balinor, had encouraged him in that direction. It certainly seemed like it.

Taking himself up to his room and carelessly dumping his schoolbooks and laptop on his bed, Merlin changed into an old pair of work pants and shirt, shucking a jacket over his shoulders to fend of the encroaching coolness. From the feel of the chill that was only growing increasingly that November, Merlin suspected winter to hit hard. Perhaps there would even be an early snow?

Starting downstairs once more and taking himself through the back door, Merlin paused in step with a slight frown as he noticed a sleek, black car squatting in the centre of the backside turning bay, missed upon his entry through the front door. His first through was that it was a client come to see one of their agisted horses, but Merlin thought he was familiar enough with those cars to recognise that the black one wasn't one of them. Wealthy though most of their clients were, they were practical in that their cars were generally of the kind built to handle rockier terrain. Merlin was half surprised that the one perched in the drive had made it as far as it had.

There was the vague outline of a figure in the front seat of the car – no, two figures. It was hard to see for the darkness of the tinted windows. They appeared to be talking but neither inclined to climb out. Merlin had to wonder about that, his curiosity almost getting the better of him, but he ignored it in favour of stepping past and starting down the slight incline towards the stables.

Only to pause as Balinor stepped from the greenhouse right into his path. Merlin's father started slightly as they nearly crashed into one another but he only adopted a wide smile a moment later. Balinor always smiled at Merlin, as though to see him made him happy. It was kind of weird. "Merlin! You're back earlier than I expected."

Merlin raised an eyebrow. "It's nearly five o'clock."

"Is it really?" Balinor startled slightly as though the news surprised him. "Well, how about that? I must have lost track of time."

Merlin was annoyed with his father. So annoyed that he bordered upon angry at times. He was careless, selfish in chasing his goals and dreams and not thinking about the wife he left behind, oblivious to the disgruntlement of those around him… Yes, Merlin was annoyed with him, and had been annoyed for years now. And yet even through his irritation he could perceive that Balinor was trying. Maybe it was something Hunith had said or maybe he'd simply taken a turn for the more mature. Merlin didn't know, but he found himself – begrudgingly at that – struggling to try and act a little differently. He didn't particularly want to be angry with his father, even if he deserved it, and never enjoyed being angry with anyone, so if Balinor was changing…

"You alright, kid?" Balinor asked. He was dusting what could have been soil or fertilizer from the thick gloves he wore, making streaks of mess on his trousers with a carelessness that Merlin remembered from when he was a child. Balinor had never had much consideration for expenses, for material possessions; it was one of the reasons he'd never appreciated the estate, not like Hunith had. His disregard for his clothes, though not entirely uncharacteristic of the workers on their farm, only emphasised that.

Merlin shrugged. "Yeah, I'm fine."

"Looking a little glum, is all."

Merlin stared at his father for a long moment. He looked glum? Since when was Balinor observant enough to realise that. He shook his head slowly this time. "No, I'm fine."

Balinor stared back in turn for an equally long time. That in itself was unusual for him. Balinor was the sort of person who spoke as soon as a thought entered his mind. When he continued this time, however, it was slow and measured. "Your mum and I were talking about you. She's a bit worried, you know."

Merlin nearly laughed at that. Not because of his mother's concern but because of Balinor's words. The discussion between he and Hunith would surely have been in confidence, but Balinor had never been particularly good at keeping secrets. He didn't laugh, though; it would have been in fairly poor taste for the sincerity of Balinor's expression.

Shaking his head, Merlin offered a small smile. Even that seemed to ease Balinor somewhat. That sort of thing always had. He was sort of gullible like that. "Really, there's nothing wrong. I'm just a little swamped under uni work at the moment."

Balinor nodded knowingly. "That's what I told your mum but she seems to think otherwise." He clapped a hand on Merlin's shoulder with a smile that could have been proud. "You're doing a good job, Merlin. Keep up the hard work."

You really have no idea, Merlin couldn't help but think. Balinor was clueless. It was a show of just how much better Hunith knew Merlin than his father did that she would disregard Merlin's repeated deflections in favour of her own observations. Not that Merlin was particularly happy for those observations, but it was the truth. And Merlin didn't blame Balinor for not understanding, not really, for there was no way he could know Merlin well enough for that. He blamed him for leaving for other reasons, but for not knowing Merlin? No, he didn't really care about that. Or at least he'd stopped caring about that a long time ago.

Instead of commenting to continue the conversation, Merlin shrugged enough that it dislodged Balinor's hand from his shoulder without completely shaking it loose. "Where's mum?" He asked.

Balinor half turned and made a vague gesture down the hill towards the stables. "She's with a couple of new clients or something. Showing them through the stables."

"That's who the car's for, then?"

Balinor nodded with a smirk. "I didn't meet them myself, but Hunith came up a little while ago, said she knew them. Seems familiar enough with them, anyway. You mum thinks they might be taking Aithusa."

"What?" Merlin said, pausing in step as he'd turned to leave to glance back at Balinor incredulously. "Mum's selling Aithusa?"

Balinor nodded and there was actual understanding in the rise of his eyebrows this time. "I know. She's been a tricky one not wanting to leave Aisha, but your mum seems to think we've found a match. Apparently Aithusa seems to have become suddenly attached to this new client."

Merlin shook his head with ensuing surprise. He never would have picked it. Aithusa was still young but even then most fillies her age had made a bit of a bid for independence. She was different, hadn't seemed inclined to leaving Aisha's side but under Merlin's direct request at all, and even then she would always start pining within an hour or two. If Hunith really had found someone to take her, someone she liked, that was fantastic.

"I might go down and meet them," Merlin said, already starting up with a long stride once more.

"Yeah, good idea," Balinor said from behind him. "Oh, and Merlin? Have you by any chance seen that old urn that I always liked? The white one with the lip?"

Merlin paused in step once more, glancing over his shoulder and drew a confused expression upon his face before allowing it to clear into remembrance. "You mean the Grecian one?"

Balinor smiled, as though happy he'd realised. "That's the one. Was always my favourite, ever since your mum and I –"

"Yeah, we threw that out."

Balinor stuttered to a halt and an expression of horror briefly touched his features. "What? Why?"

"It broke," Merlin said, adopting an apologetic expression. That tended to happen when someone brutally kicks it into a wall. Merlin felt no regret for throwing just that kick three years ago. Hunith had been devastated when Balinor had left not a week after her birthday, and though she'd tried to hide it Merlin could tell. The puffiness of red eyes was a little hard to disguise each morning. Merlin didn't get truly angry very often, but in that case it had been entirely justified. The urn was an unfortunate casualty of war.

"You couldn't fix it?" Balinor asked. He sounded like a child who'd just lost his favourite toy.

"It was pretty shattered. Tyr took one look at it and offered to chuck it himself."

Balinor huffed a heavy sigh, frowning. "Damn. That's a bitch." Then he shrugged, characteristically easily disregarding that which didn't suit him. "Ah well, we can only make do." Then he turned and disappeared back into the greenhouse.

Merlin shook his head as he started back towards the stables. He wasn't regretful for what he'd done, but at least he had a better control of his anger than he'd had three years ago. Will had said it was scary, that it had been horrible to see him so furious because "That's not you, Merlin. You're never the one that gets angry. Leave that job to me". That didn't mean that Merlin wasn't still resentful of Balinor, but he didn't let such resentment explode anymore. Such eruptions didn't do anyone any good and often resulted in broken flower pots.

"You're thinking awfully deeply, Merlin."

Merlin paused at the stable doors at the sound of the sibilant hiss. He felt his eyebrows rise in surprise as he glanced towards the snake sprawled in a feeble patch of sun, almost invisible for his camouflage against the sprout of thinning grass. "Kilgharrah. What are you doing here? I would have thought you'd have retired for the winter."

Kilgharrah raised his head slightly, emotionless gaze turned towards Merlin as his tongue darted towards him. "The sun is better here," he said by way of explanation.

"Did you come the whole way yourself?" Merlin asked. He hadn't visited Kilgharrah in over a week, but when he had it had been down at the dam.

"Don't be ridiculous, Merlin. Do you have any idea how long that would take for one without a horse to ride?"

Merlin smiled. Kilgharrah sounded less exasperated and more like an elder chiding his junior for that which he should by all rights already know. "Did Balinor pick you up, then? He said he wanted to go and visit you."

"He did not," Kilgharrah replied. "The Dragonlord has not deemed it fit to lower himself for such a trip."

Ignoring the touch of mocking condescension in Kilgharrah's tone, Merlin frowned. "Then how'd you get up here?"

"I hitched a ride on Llamrei," Kilgharrah supplied.

"What was Llamrei doing all the way down at the dam?"

"Clearly, she was ridden."

Merlin felt his frown settle only deeper. "But Mum doesn't ever ride her. Who rode her down?"

Kilgharrah apparently didn't deem it fit to give him a simple answer. "If you cannot make the connection yourself, Merlin, than you're far less intelligent than I always deemed you."

Barely hearing the backhanded compliment, Merlin only shook his head. "Who?"

"He always seemed to like Llamrei for some reason. Personally I don't understand why, given that the creature is a temperamental clotpole at her best, but I've never been particularly partial to horses."

"Clotpole?" Merlin raised an eyebrow.

Kilgharrah ignored his interruption. "It was only a matter of time, really. To my eyes, anyway. It was inevitable that he would show his face. You're one and the same, the both of you, yet complimenting opposites."

"What –?"

"Two sides of the same coin, as a human might call it."

Merlin was only growing more baffled by the second. "What are you going on about?"

Kilgharrah didn't reply however. Instead, he lowered his head back to the ground, tongue flicking out once more as though to punctuate his silence. His abrupt decision to end the conversation was made only more pointed as the thin, milky film of his inner eyelid slid across his eye.

Merlin sighed, rolling his eyes. Kilgharrah liked to think himself cryptic and mysterious, and as an elderly serpent perhaps he did have that right, but it was certainly unnecessary most of the time. Shaking his head, Merlin started into the stable once more, swinging the door inwards.

Only to pause in step immediately. He felt his eyes widen as he took in the sight of the single figure standing in the centre of the long row of stalls just outside of the tack shed, stroking Aithusa where the filly's snout butted her in the shoulder. A tall, slender young woman, she was dressed in a casual suit far too immaculate and refined for the grittiness of her surrounds and shoes so tall that Merlin admired her for being able to walk down to the stables in at all. She had a regal bearing, breathed an air of exaltedness seemingly without even trying, and had Merlin not recognised her on sight he thought he would have been able to identify her as royalty nonetheless.

"Fucking hell," he said before he could help himself. He clapped a hand over his mouth an instant later.

Princess Morgana turned towards him a moment later, blinking slowly and with an air of speculation as her gaze settled upon him. Then a slow smile stretched across her lips. She turned from Aithusa, dropping her hand to her side even though the filly continued to nudge her for attention, and tilted her head as she gazed upon him. "You must be Merlin."

Merlin didn't like to think of himself as easily star struck, but when the daughter of his king appeared in the middle of his stables it was a little hard not to be surprised. "You… you're…"

Morgana started towards him with slow, casual steps. Aithusa followed her like a pale shadow. "Not as good with horses as my brother informs me you are," she said, as though completing his stuttering sentence. She glanced over her shoulder with a smile, however, as Aithusa butted her once more. "But with this little girl I seem to have hit my stride."

Merlin could only blink stupidly in reply. "Your brother?"

Morgana sighed, pausing in step. "Well, that's unfortunate. He did tell me it had only been a few months, but…" She abruptly raised her voice to a call, half-turning to glance back over her shoulder once more. "Arthur, apparently he doesn't remember you after all. You really did leave it too long."

Merlin stared. Staring was all he felt capable of doing as a moment later, to the sound of rapidly scuffing shoes, Arthur appeared in the door to the tack shed with Hunith at his shoulder. He looked… wet, for some reason. Drenched, really, his blond hair damp and darkened and a towel draped around his neck. Even his clothes appeared so.

It was almost comical, given how as a frog he'd always been so.

Arthur. Arthur was here, in the middle of Merlin's stables and… and Merlin couldn't look away. He couldn't help but stare, absorbing the strange yet familiar sight of him, the features that he'd seen more times than he could count in the past months as he'd unconsciously found himself drawn to any story of the Prince of Wales, the expression of exasperation upon his face as he turned towards Morgana that was somehow reminiscent of that which Merlin had seen him wear even when he wasn't human.

Suddenly, it didn't matter. None of his qualms mattered. Merlin had been disconcerted, unhinged by the sight of Arthur as a human and hadn't known how to handle himself, how to comport himself in the face of a prince. But all of a sudden that didn't matter at all. Merlin realised he didn't care. He'd known he'd missed Arthur, had missed being around him and talking to him more than he could have ever anticipated, but he hadn't realised just how much at that moment.

Merlin didn't care anymore. He didn't care if Arthur was a human or a frog. He just so badly wanted to talk to him, to be around him, to smile as Arthur rolled his eyes in exasperation and to reminisce about how when he ran his hands through his damp hair it looked so much like how he'd done just that same motion as a frog countless times that Merlin could almost laugh.

Arthur did roll his eyes, though at Morgana this time. He shot her a scowl that Merlin suddenly felt he knew, and not because he'd seen it in the papers and in the media so often. He knew it from when he'd known Arthur. "Morgana, do you mind," he drawled.

"Not in the slightest, dear brother," Morgana replied with a smile that in any other situation Merlin would have deemed predatory. Or maybe it was in this situation, too. "You more than deserve it."

Arthur appeared on the verge of replying before abruptly snapping his mouth shut. In deliberate disregard of his sister, he turned instead towards Merlin. In that moment, as a small, entirely uncharacteristically tentative smile touched his lips, everything changed all over again.

Merlin had seen Arthur smile before as a frog, understanding it through his gift for what his eyes couldn't perceive. He'd seen it, and it had warmed him in a strange sort of way. Then he'd seen it again when Arthur was a human, and it had been strange and disjointing. Merlin had been so unnerved by the entire situation that he had barely registered it for what it was.

But now, months later as reality had set in and Merlin abruptly realised how much he didn't care about such differences, how much none of the transformation even mattered to him any longer, he found that he liked it. He really, really liked Arthur's smile.

Arthur started towards him, raising a hand to grasp at the towel looped around his neck and tugging it loose. He slung it over the stall door beside Merlin as he stopped before him. For a long moment he didn't say anything. Neither did Merlin, too caught up in simply staring at him. In the past, Prince Arthur had always appeared to him as nothing but a prat. A good-looking prat, to be sure, but arrogant and dismissive, with a superiority complex that swelled his head to at least twice its normal size.

His expression was different now, though. Warmer somehow, with less hardness in his eyes and the scowl he'd worn moment in the face of his sister before absented entirely. If possible… Merlin had never associated such a term with the prince before, but he seemed almost… softer.

And his smile. It was only small and slight but Gods did he have a gorgeous smile. Even more so because it still seemed tentative, almost nervous, and Merlin had never seen Arthur as nervous before, regardless of what form he was in.

"Hey," was all he said. Shortly. Quietly. Almost hesitantly.

Merlin ignored Morgana's snort from behind Arthur just as Arthur did. He was barely even aware that she and his mother still stood in the stable, an audience to their exchange. "Hi," he replied just as quietly, and couldn't help but smile in return as Arthur's own widened just a little, just enough to show a hint of teeth.

Then Merlin shook his head, incredulity settling upon him once more. "What are you doing here?"

He didn't mean to sound accusing, but thankfully Arthur didn't appear offended by his question. He didn't reply immediately, however, instead dropping his gaze down to his pocket as his hand abruptly dug inside. A moment later he extracted his fingers once more holding –

Merlin stared. He stared and blinked and then couldn't help but utter a short, incredulous start of laughter. He felt a smile of absolute merriment, of confusion and ridicule because what the hell? Why had Arthur done that? spread widely across his lips. Merlin raised a hand to cover his face briefly before slipping it down across his lips, smothering his amusement. "Please don't tell me you went swimming in the dam in the middle of November to go and get that," he said, laughter bubbling in his voice.

Arthur didn't seem deterred in the slightest by Merlin's amusement. Far from it, his own smile only widened further for it. Waving Merlin's old phone slightly in the air, the gold of the case so faded and smeared that it was hardly recognisable as gold anymore, he shrugged. "I thought it had agreeable symmetry," he said.

"Agreeable symmetry?" Merlin echoed, raising an eyebrow.

Arthur nodded. "It was basically how we met. I figured it was sort of almost a… keepsake. A symbol. And seeing as I came here to tell you…"

He trailed off and Merlin found himself holding his breath behind the hand that still rested before his lips. It was stupid, the entire situation – really, what had possessed Arthur to go for a dip in the dam in search of an old, battered and broken phone was truly foolish? – but Merlin couldn't help but feel his heart swell for it. It was almost painful, pulsing warmth through his body with each rapid beat. Between that and the stare Arthur settled upon him, open and speaking more than words could, it was as though the world had fallen away around him.

Until Morgana spoke, that was. "How sentimental of you, Arthur," she said, her tone nothing if not mocking in its amusement. "I never would have picked it of you."

Immediately, as though he'd had some sense knocked into him, Arthur sighed and turned with a frown towards his sister once more. "Do you mind, Morgana?" He said, repeating his early words.

Morgana only smiled like a satisfied cat. "Not in the slightest." She glanced past Arthur to Merlin and rolled her eyes. "Really, Merlin, I know we don't know one another but I must as you to please talk to him. I've had to sit through a six hour drive drowning beneath the floodgates of his talking of you. Honestly, why didn't we just fly?"

"You were the one who asked me about it," Arthur sighed in reply. "And you were the one who demanded you come along in the first place, though I still don't know how you knew I was going."

Morgana waved a hand in the air, disregarding Arthur's unasked question. "Hardly of consequence. And I didn't quite anticipate the duration of your monologue." She quirked her cat-like smile once more at Merlin. "Please do your best to sort out the damage you've apparently done to him, Merlin."

Despite her words, the accusation that they could have insinuated, Merlin didn't feel accused at all. In fact, talking to Arthur, hearing what he had to say – God, just talking to him – sounded like a very good idea indeed.

Reaching forwards and wrapping his hand around Arthur's that still hled the broken phone, Merlin gave him a slight tug. He barely spared another glance for the clearly self-satisfied Morgana, for his mother where she was visibly suppressing her own smile, a hand unconsciously stroking Aithusa at Morgana's shoulder. "Come on, " he said as Arthur glanced towards him. "You're an idiot for swimming in the dam but I don't want you to get pneumonia or anything because of it."

Arthur followed immediately without a hint of restraint. "I'm the idiot?" He said. "Really, Merlin, out of the two of us I'm sure you win the award for the greatest idiocy."

Merlin's smile only widened as he drew Arthur after him up towards the house. He would never have suspected he would miss being insulted so much, but when Arthur said it… maybe it had something to do with the fact that instead of disdain there was something far, far warmer enriching the words.

Who'd have thought being called an idiot could ever sound so affectionate?

---

Arthur was bloody freezing. He could only be grateful when Merlin walked him into the dining room, stopped him with a deliberate staying of his hand, and disappeared to return with a new towel. The house was only marginally warmer than it was outside its walls; Arthur had months before become familiar with the Emerson habit of leaving all doors open when it's occupants worked outside.

True, it might not have been such a good idea to go swimming in the dam in the middle of November, but as he'd driven towards the estate but hours before, as Arthur spoke unstoppably of Merlin and recalled everything that had happened between them, it had seemed like a very natural thing to do. He'd been so caught up with thinking of everything he hadn't allowed himself to in the past weeks that he'd barely had the presence of mind to withhold some of that information from Morgana, Leon and Percival's collective ears the truth of the matter.

Hell, he still didn't want anyone to know he'd been a frog.

But Morgana had asked and suddenly Arthur couldn't help himself. He couldn't sway the direction of his thoughts and had only stuttered to a halt when Morgana had forcibly interrupted him not half an hour from the estate.

"You're in love," she'd stated matter-of-factly.

Arthur had been silenced. He'd stared at Morgana and could feel his eyes widening incredulously. Not so much because he denied the truth of that fact because Arthur already knew that. He'd reached that conclusion weeks before, could hardly think of anything but, despite never having experienced such a feeling before.

It was probably that more than anything that told Arthur the truth of the matter. He'd never felt as he did for Merlin before, not for anyone. It wasn't simply about lust, about physical pleasure, though Arthur would be lying if he claimed he didn't think about that a whole lot as well. It was so much more; he just wanted to be with him, to talk to him, to tease him because to do so always provoked either an equally teasing reply or a laugh and smile of such genuine amusement that Arthur couldn't help but smile in return.

Merlin's smile, even the simple thought of it, always made Arthur want to do the same.

Arthur hadn't spoken a word after that to anyone else in the car but to offer redundant directions that the GPS was already voicing. When he'd met Hunith for the first time in what seemed like forever, when he'd spoken to her briefly and exchanged small, unspoken glances of agreement to keep mum on the nature of their familiarity with one another, he'd asked about Merlin. It had been harder not to ask immediately.

But Merlin wasn't back yet. That thought both frustrated and relieved Arthur, for though he sorely wished to see Merlin he didn't think it would be such an appropriate expression of his affection to verbally vomit his thoughts and feelings atop him in a garbled mess. Arthur was eloquent, knew he was an adept spokesperson, but he'd never felt as hesitant about how to approach a situation as he did now.

The ride helped. It was the first time Arthur had ridden one of the horses on Merlin's estate, and it was an exhilarating feeling. Even better because he'd always wanted to ride Llamrei, the regal white palomino mare a sight for sore eyes. She galloped just a fluidly and gracefully as she'd appeared to. Arthur would admit in this case that he might even be a little bit in love with the horse, too.

When Arthur arrived at the dam, he'd retrieved the phone in a horrifying experience that though he was glad he'd completed he was certainly not keen to repeat. The blast of cold water, a numbing shock to the system, seemed to instil some sense into him, however, and he actually felt calmer for it, despite the chill setting into his bones and eliciting a shiver moments after he'd climbed from the damn with phone in hand.

It was worth it, thought.

The appearance of the grass snake having somehow managed to clamber up onto the back of Llamrei's saddle was a startling experience in itself. Arthur had never been overly fond of snakes, but since he'd been a frog that unease had manifested into active dislike. It was only vague recognition of the creature – Kilgharrah, Merlin had called him – that stopped him from grabbing the nearest stick and beating the life out of him. Somehow, Arthur didn't think that revealing that he'd brutally killed one of Merlin's animal friends would be the way to initiate their reunion.

Seeing Merlin for the first time in weeks… it had taken Arthur's breath away. With a rational mind, Arthur had been aware that his memories of the estate, of Merlin himself, were likely brightened by retrospect and affection and not entirely truthful, but when it came to Merlin that reality didn't seem to equate. He was no different to how he'd always been, tall – infuriatingly just a little taller than Arthur – and muscular for the work he routinely laboured on the farm but not quite big for it. His familiar features, his sharp cheekbones, the guileless brightness of his eyes that though they didn't flash golden when he spoke to Arthur anymore were still captivating… all of it down to his familiar, long, slender fingers as they curled around Arthur's made him ache with longing and abruptly forget the existence of Morgana and Hunith behind him entirely. Arthur hardly even saw the worn, stained jeans and jacket that Merlin wore, hardly enough to judge it for its drabness; if anything, such a sight only flooded Arthur with further nostalgia, warmed him from deep within in a way that flooded straight to his fingertips and, though not quite chasing away his shivers, made them far easier to ignore.

Arthur would have followed Merlin back up to the house even had he not held his hand and practically dragged him the entire way. As he offered Arthur the second towel, Merlin was shaking his head, the touch of a smile still settled upon his lips as though as disbelieving as he was exasperated for the situation. Arthur accepted it wordlessly, draping it momentarily over his head and scrubbing at the dampness of his hair. He was only too relieved that he'd had the foresight to remove his clothes before jumping into the dam; they were still damp from where he'd had to dress himself once more before drying but he was almost certain he would have caught his death if not.

"I can't believe you actually went and got this out," Merlin said, standing before him with gaze downturned towards the old, broken phone in his hands. Arthur had been reluctant to be parted with it – he wasn't a sentimental person but for some reason he did not want to give it up – but if it was to Merlin it was alright. "I actually can't believe you still remembered it at all."

"Of course I did," Arthur said, dropping the towel from his head to drape across his shoulders. "I had to lug it out of the water the first time as a frog, remember. That's not something I'm likely to forget."

Merlin's lips quivered in amusement, his gaze still downturned. "I still don't know what possessed you to think getting it was a good idea in the first place."

"It was a boon," Arthur replied.

"What kind of a boon takes the form of a broken phone?"

"Well, can you blame me? I was somewhat grasping at straws at the time."

Arthur didn't think he sounded defensive, for really, he didn't care all that much about the fact that Merlin had disregarded his efforts. Not anymore, anyway. It was hardly of consequence, especially considering that Merlin had helped him anyway.

But Merlin lifted his gaze with a touch of apology to his expression. "Yeah, true. It's the thought that counts anyway, I guess."

It was so typically Merlin, so honest and heartfelt and accepting, that Arthur couldn't help but take a slight step towards him. An upwelling of affection, of what Arthur disbelievingly yet with rapid understanding was coming to realise was that fabled 'love', rose within him. "You would say that," he murmured fondly.

Merlin glanced up at him and something in Arthur's expression must have been confusing, perhaps a little too immediate, for he raised a curious eyebrow. "What?"

"Nothing," Arthur replied with a shake of his head.

He didn't really know what to say. True, the ride had calmed him slightly, had put a stopper in the unprecedented and uncontrollable flow of emotions that had coursed through him. But Arthur still didn't know what to say. He'd never been in such a situation before. Ever.

Fortunately, whether for consideration or actual curiosity, Merlin provided an opening for him. "What are you doing here anyway, Arthur?"

There was hesitancy in his voice, a slight quirk to his lips that still smiled as though almost worried for what he might hear in reply. And suddenly, Arthur didn't care anymore. He didn't care about what would be appropriate approach, about how best to go about such a situation. He had something he wanted to say, and dammit, he'd never been one to suppress the urge to do what he wanted.

"I missed you," he said simply.

Merlin stared at him for a long moment. He didn't blink, not once, simply staring. His eyes widened slightly, almost as though he'd not been expecting it. Maybe he hadn't?

Arthur continued into his silence. "I was foolish, maybe, to leave as I did. When I didn't really want to." He shook his head, a little self-deprecatingly. "No, I shouldn't have left because I have too much that I needed to say to you. Starting with thank you, of course." Arthur offered his own smile into Merlin's open, staring expression. "I never really said it properly, I don't think."

Merlin blinked, as though once more confused for a moment before shaking his head slightly. "Oh. No, that's alright. I don't… you don't have to thank me –"

"But that's not the main thing," Arthur interrupted his quiet words. He wondered if it was his imagination that Merlin seemed a little disappointed for the thanks. "More than that, I really did miss you. And I haven't been able to stop thinking about you since I left."

Suddenly, it was so easy. Arthur had never spoken his feelings before, not like this, and mostly because he'd quite simply never had any like this before. But it was easy, and they flowed seamlessly, almost as though he'd prepared them.

"I miss you, Merlin," he said, holding Merlin's gaze as he felt his smile grow. "I miss your ridiculously early awakenings because I would always feel the need to be there with you when you did wake up. I miss your stupid vegan eggs and facon, and the way you'd always give me toast just a little undercooked because it was easier for me to eat when I was a frog. Don't think I didn't notice."

Merlin uttered a slight huff of laughter, more incredulous than amused, but he didn't speak. He didn't move from where he stood still and silent before Arthur, barely two steps away with the scavenged phone clasped between his hands. Arthur only felt the warmth spread through him more pronouncedly for it, driving away the chill on his skin further.

"I miss you're inane conversations that I couldn't help but participate in because they were utterly redundant but I enjoyed them anyway," he continued, feeling his lips curve further. He couldn't have withheld the smile had he wanted to. "I miss going for rides with you and nearly falling off because who in their right mind would take a frog on a horse? Except that you'd always manage to catch me if I fell.

"I miss trying to convince you that I actually knew what the hell any of your textbooks meant." Merlin actually uttered a faint laugh at that. "I miss learning about your stupid stable hands that for some reason you care for so completely that it even made me like them a little bit too. Fucking hell, I almost even miss being squirted by you in the face, just because you found it funny every single time, no matter how many times you did it."

Shaking his head – fuck did he sound pathetic, even if it was all true – Arthur momentarily dropped his gaze to his hands. They were clenched slightly before him, the only reflexive indication that Arthur had of himself that he was in any way nervous. Not that he let it touch him. Not that he paused even for an instant. "I've never really cared about anyone before, always living in the moment and not thinking about the past or the future. But I can't seem to forget about you, Merlin. About what you did for me. About how I… feel for you."

Arthur didn't pause after that as he stepped forwards. He didn't wait to ask. And maybe he should have. Maybe it would have been the polite thing to do, the right thing to do, but Arthur had never really been one to do the 'right' thing. He was selfish, he chased what he wanted, and what he wanted… what he wanted more than anything else in the world right now was Merlin.

And maybe, just maybe from what he could tell, from what he'd read in a way that he never had from anyone else – maybe Merlin wanted him back. The wariness and dismissal, the aversion that Arthur had feared seeing from him for the entirety of the trip from London, was absented entirely. Surprise, yes, but perhaps even joy had been what Arthur had beheld when he first saw Merlin.

He crossed those final steps between them, raised his hands to the side of Merlin's face and drew his face towards him. Merlin's eyes were widened further, surprised and blinking a little dumbly, and very blue without the faintest touch of gold. But Arthur didn't care. They were perfect, and wide, and slightly dumbly surprised. Merlin was an idiot, but Arthur loved him for that too. God, he never thought he'd love an idiot but –

He never really thought he'd love anyone. Not before Merlin. Suddenly that realisation was overwhelming, too much to contain. "I love you, Merlin."

They were close enough that Arthur could feel Merlin's sharp exhalation touch his cheeks, brushing across his lips in another little huff. Arthur was close enough to hear the barest whisper, to smell the warmth of him, to notice the smallest changes in his expression as he said it, but he doubted he would have needed to be so close to have seen. The sound of the phone slipping from Merlin's fingers, clattering onto the ground, was barely a passing thought. Arthur didn't care; sentimental or not, in that moment he didn't care a lick.

Merlin's face changed. He'd always had startling features; Arthur had acknowledged as much when he'd first met him, even if he hadn't really appreciated them. Wide, guileless eyes, sharp cheekbones alongside a sharp nose, pointed chin and his lips… Arthur certainly hadn't considered that he'd wanted to kiss them when they'd first met. Nothing of the sort had even crossed his mind, yet it was definitely making up for lost time now.

Yes, maybe Arthur should have paused. Maybe it would have been polite and right to wait, to talk out his feelings with Merlin, to express to him on a deeper level, a more comprehensible level, that he did love him. That he'd never loved anyone quite like he did Merlin and it had only taken his sister's merciless and intrusive prodding to prove as much to him. But Arthur didn't wait. Instead, he leaned towards Merlin, eyes slipping naturally closed, and pressed his lips against Merlin's in a soft, gentle and entirely chaste kiss.

Arthur had kissed a lot of people. He knew he had, and that it was an exceptional amount even. Nimueh hadn't been lying what now seemed so long ago when she'd called him philandering. Arthur was, at least before. But things had changed. He'd changed, significantly over the past months, and in that moment… in that moment Arthur would have been quite content to never kiss anyone else in the world. No one else so long as he had Merlin.

Was it supposed to be different with the one you loved? Maybe.

Merlin was frozen for a moment. Only for a moment, however, and Arthur didn't even have a chance to be plagued by second thoughts and regrets for his action, because then Merlin's hands were rising, one to grasp Arthur's wrist and the other to press against the hand cupping Merlin's face. He drew into Arthur, parting his lips with tongue slipping out to stroke just gently, almost tentatively against Arthur's and yes, dammit, it definitely was different with the one he loved. Different and so, so much better.

Arthur lost himself in Merlin, in deepening their kiss into an impassioned mess of tongues and sucking lips. He fell prey to the intoxication of warm breath meeting his own, of the brief glimpses of Merlin's face as he fluttered his eyes open before closing them once more to lose himself to pure sensation. He drew an arm down from Merlin's face to loop around his back, falling to his waist and drawing him closer towards him, and it had never felt so right to be pressed so closely to another person before, not an inch between them. Arthur would be happy never to move again.

"I love you," he found himself murmuring into Merlin's lips. "I do. I love you." For words he'd never spoken before, after that first time they seemed to come infinitely easier. Even more so when each gasping repetition drew a stuttering breath from Merlin in return, caused him to press himself against Arthur as he sunk into their kiss and wrapped his arms around Arthur in turn. Even better when –

"I love you too."

Arthur froze. He froze and his eyes snapped open to stare at where Merlin had drawn barely a handbreadth away from him to whisper his reply. His eyes were still closed but at Arthur's sudden immobility they in turn fluttered open to peer at him from so close, so incredibly close that Arthur could almost see his own reflection in them. A slow smile spread across his face until the familiar dimple impressed in his cheek, setting his face aglow. Arthur had never seen anything more beautiful, more incredible, in his entire life and it was only made better when Merlin uttered a small laugh and pressed his lips briefly against Arthur's with another murmur of, "I love you too".

Arthur didn't care that he was still drenched. He didn't care that it was cold outside and that cold pervaded the dining room and chilled his toes in his socks through the cool floorboards. Rich warmth flooded through him that chased away every hint of iciness, growing from his chest and spreading like tendrils of light to his very fingertips.

I love you too.

Love was… Arthur had never had that before and he was only now realising how foolish he was for not realising just how much he was missing.

Merlin startled, loosing a squawk of surprise when Arthur pressed a short, fast kiss upon his lips, pressing his entire body against him with such sudden urgency that he drove him backwards in a series of stumbling paces. Arthur felt him jolt against the edge of the table, but Merlin wasn't complaining so he hardly considered it. Arthur pressed himself against Merlin for a moment, chest to chest, drawing his arms around him once more to feel him, the warmth of his skin through his jacket, the faint throb of a heartbeat, the frantic tangle of kisses that Arthur could lose himself in for an age. But still… it just didn't feel close enough.

Merlin loosed another startled, wordless exclamation when Arthur wrapped his arms tightly around him and in a sudden lift drew him off his feet until he could fall easily back to sitting on the table. Arthur only smiled up at him as Merlin leaned backwards slightly to peer down upon Arthur in turn. His arms didn't loosen from around Arthur, however, not even slightly. "Do you mind? My mother eats on this table."

Arthur couldn't help but smirk, pressing in more closely into him. In a motion so casual and comfortable that it almost caught Arthur's breath, Merlin naturally untucked his legs to allow him to slide in between them. Close. Close was good. Close was far better. "Well, I figured since you've picked me up so many times in the past it was only fair that I return the favour," he said, wrapping his arms more comfortably around Merlin's waist.

"Those were entirely different circumstances."

"Are you really complaining? If it bothers you I can apologize to your mother after this."

Merlin snorted, drawing his arms further around Arthur's shoulders and leaning into him in turn even as Arthur settled against him. "No thank you. I don't think I ever want my mum to know about my sex life."

"Sex life?" Arthur said, quirking an eyebrow suggestively.

Merlin cocked his head as he peered down at him. "Well, I'm not one to assume –"

"I call bullshit to that."

Smiling, Merlin ignored him to continue. "But I would assume as much given that sex is often the direction a romantic relationship leads to. Unless…" He trailed off, smile dying slightly as he pursed his lips.

Arthur tightened his arms around his waist, pressing gently against him. Talking about sex wasn't exactly doing his mental state any good. He wasn't a lust-blown teenager to spark at any mention of it, for his mind to drop into his nether-regions in an instant, but this was with Merlin and fuck if it wasn't different. He couldn't remember ever wanting something – someone – so much in his life. His fingers didn't seem able to stop grazing across Merlin's back, across the hem of his shirt, curving around his waist to draw along his thigh and simply touch. Arthur wasn't ashamed to admit that he was well and truly turned on. He wanted. He wanted badly, and if the heat flooding to his groin was any indication it wasn't just a psychological desire.

At least Arthur gratified with the realisation that Merlin felt the same. It was a little hard to miss with such proximity. But Merlin had said… "What?" Arthur asked. "Unless what?"

Merlin peered at him sceptically for a moment. He seemed torn between amusement and resignation, something almost like despair seeping into the mix, which Arthur was not particularly happy to behold given their situation. Not in the slightest. Merlin had a stupid smile, wide and encompassing his entire expression, and Arthur loved it. He'd seen it in his mind all too much over the past weeks. Months. He wanted that back. "It's just…"

"What?" Arthur prompted once more, offering a little, exasperated sigh.

Merlin sighed in turn. "Have you ever even been with a bloke before, Arthur?"

Arthur blinked silently for a moment. That was what he was worried about? "Are you serious?"

"Hey, it's a serious question. It's not exactly a common preference to have tried –"

"You're asking me that?"

Further amusement and just a touch of exasperation that caused his eyes to roll rapidly overwhelmed Merlin's expression. "I do believe that's what I've just done, yes."

Arthur settled himself more firmly against Merlin until there wasn't even a whisker of space between them, tilting his head up towards him. He lifted an arm from Merlin's waist to the back of Merlin's head to tug him down into a brief, warm kiss. "Merlin, I don't even give a shit about that sort of thing."

"Hey, I'm just saying," Merlin murmured against his lips, his own quivering with his rapidly rising amusement. "You were the one who seemed surprised when I told you I was gay."

"Would it bother you if I said I'd been with another bloke before?" Arthur asked. "Or… blokes?"

Merlin paused with his lips nearly against Arthur's. Arthur was close enough to see the momentarily thoughtful clouding of his eyes before they cleared into a raised eyebrow. "Would be a little hypocritical of me, wouldn't it?"

"That it would be," Arthur agreed.

"Although you're one to talk. Should I be jealous?"

"If you want to be," Arthur said with a shrug. "I'm certainly not stopping you. It's pointless, but you can be if you want to be." He pressed another brief kiss on Merlin's lips.

"Pointless how?" Merlin asked.

Arthur paused, drawing away slightly until he could behold the entirety of Merlin's face without risk of losing himself in meeting his eyes. "Because. I love you. I don't want anyone else." He paused, then for emphasis added, "Ever."

All the amusement faded from Merlin's expression in that moment. His face grew as serious as Arthur had ever seen it, serious in a different way to what he'd previously seen yet somehow simultaneously softened. The smallest of smiles touched his lips in a way that Arthur immediately wanted to capture with his own. "Seriously?" Merlin murmured, almost as though he didn't believe it.

In reply, Arthur only leaned into him once more, curling his fingers around the back of Merlin's head to draw him towards him once more, and pressed another kiss upon his lips. This time he didn't stop. He didn't let go. Blessedly, Merlin didn't seem to want him to.

Arthur couldn't get close enough. Even pressed as he was against Merlin, quite literally touching at every possible point, he longed to be closer. Merlin's foot hooked around the back of his knee, coiling around his leg like a strangling vine. Arthur wasn't complaining in the slightest, not even when the barest touch of Merlin's toes against his leg seemed to turn his knees to jelly.

He locked his arms around Merlin with no intention of ever letting go. He lost himself in the soft warmth of his lips, the sweetness of whatever Merlin had for lunch just detectable on his tongue. Unconsciously, almost needily, Arthur found himself rocking his hips against him, the heat in his belly only seeming to grow with every increasingly breathless moment he sunk into Merlin's mouth until it was almost too hot.

Arthur's fingers slid beneath Merlin's shirt, grazing along his spine and eliciting a shiver even as Merlin's own fingers hooked in the waistband of his trousers and enticed goosebumps of their own from his skin. Arthur had always admired Merlin's fingers. Now he simply loved them.

It wasn't enough. It would never be enough, not until they'd shared it all, and maybe not even then. Arthur knew that, knew it on an innate level, in a way that just clicked, in the same way that he'd known that he truly did love Merlin from the moment the notion hit him with the force of a colliding semi-trailer. He wanted him desperately, in every way, and the rocking and rutting, the inadequate friction and tightness it invoked in his groin – it wasn't enough. Arthur thought he might have even spoken as much, whispering it into Merlin's lips in the bare seconds that he could manage to draw away from him to gasp a breath. He though Merlin might have murmured the same.

But all good things must come to an end. Too prematurely, it would seem, and Arthur had long ago learned that more often than not his abrupt and frustrated 'end' was a result of Morgana.

"Oh, hell, Arthur, do you mind?"

In an instant, the second her sharp words struck him from the doorway behind him, Arthur groaned. Fucking hell, too right, he had the moment to think before Merlin was drawing away from him and leaving him thoroughly unsatisfied for even the minimal distance between them, the lack of contact, the absence of a much needed pressure in a much, much needed area.

Already adopting a scowl yet unwilling to unlock his arms from around Merlin, Arthur turned towards his sister. "Morgana," he began, but she cut him off in typical Morgana style.

"You abandon me outside on my own and then proceed to make happy with the subject of your pathetic pining?" Morgana's hands were propped on her hips like a scolding mother, and in many ways she was. Morgana was as much of mother as a sister to Arthur. Much to his regret, too.

"You're a big girl, I'm sure you can look after yourself," Arthur replied.

Morgana's glare was just as sharp as Arthur's own, he was sure. "Such a gentleman you are, Arthur. I'm so proud of you."

Before Arthur could reply, before he even got the chance to turn back to Merlin and offer an apology both for the interruption and for his sister in general, Hunith appeared alongside Morgana in the doorway. She was shorter than Morgana was but it was impossible to overlook her presence in the room just as much as Arthur's sister was impossible to ignore.

Hunith paused just inside the doorway, glancing towards Arthur, to Merlin, to Morgana. She didn't appear fazed by Arthur and Merlin's compromising position in the slightest. "Oh?" She said, as though only mildly surprised. "Is something the matter?"

Morgana was instantly sweet, the cordial, formulaic façade of a well-to-do princess adopted once more as she turned towards Hunith with a smile. "Not at all, Mrs Emerson. Just a conversation with my wayward brother."

"Wayward?" Arthur asked with a snort. He would be folding his arms across his chest right now in indignation except for the fact that he didn't think it was possible to let go Merlin just yet. Maybe not ever, regardless of the fact that Merlin's mother was standing right there.

Morgana shot him a glare that Hunith didn't appear to notice. Or maybe she noticed but simply chose to ignore it. She started into the room, heading in the general direction of the kitchen with an understanding nod towards Morgana. "Of course. I have a younger brother myself; we had something of a similar relationship as the two of you, I should think."

"I doubt that," Arthur muttered beneath his breath. Even without thinking himself exceptional Arthur knew that what he and Morgana shared was something unusual. Not so much the cock-blocking – which Morgana had somehow managed to refine to an art – but the antagonism. That was something other, Arthur was sure.

"Would you like something to eat the both of you?" Hunith asked, disappearing into the kitchen. "And Merlin, off the table please."

"Sorry Mum," Merlin muttered, his cheeks reddening just slightly in a way that Arthur couldn't help but notice and consider entirely delightful. He'd never seen Merlin blush before. He slipped down from the table, still caught within Arthur's grasp, as Morgana replied with an almost simpering, "We wouldn't want to trouble you, Mrs Emerson."

"It's no trouble," Hunith called back. "Really, it would be my pleasure. I always cook for Tyr and his boys and girls that come to work in the stables, so another few mouths to feed is no trouble."

Morgana smiled even without Hunith present as a recipient. "Then that would be wonderful. Thank you."

"My pleasure," Hunith repeated. Then she appeared as little more than a head sticking through the doorway and turned a pointed glance towards Merlin. Abruptly Arthur was very aware that he was still in something of a compromising state. The warmth hadn't quite been vanquished from his belly by his sister's interruption, the tingling in his fingertips not abated and the desire to touch every part of Merlin far from diminished, and Arthur felt a sudden and unexpected uneasiness for that fact. Being caught in the act had never particularly bothered him before but this was Merlin, and it was Merlin's mother.

Hunith didn't say anything, however. She only raised an eyebrow at Merlin, glancing briefly towards Arthur in what appeared more of a suggestion than a reprimand. "Perhaps you'd like to show Arthur to the shower?" She suggested. "I can't imagine you'll want to be sitting in dried dam scum for the rest of the day, Arthur."

Arthur could only agree with that sentiment. Dried dam scum did not sound particularly appealing at all. But more importantly than that, Merlin was slipping from his hold, grabbing onto his hand and immediately set about all but dragging him from the room. "That's probably a good idea," he said, voice a little rushed. "Yeah, um, yeah, I'll just show you where the shower is, Arthur, and grab you a towel or something…"

He trailed off as they slipped past Morgana. Morgana herself watched them pass with a knowingly raised eyebrow, lips puckered just slightly and eyes a little narrowed. It could have been Arthur's imagination, but he swore there was a touch of satisfaction to her expression.

Not that he cared. Arthur didn't much care for anything besides the feel of Merlin's long fingers in his own, the gentle tugging of his arm, the sheepish grin he spared Arthur over his shoulder when they'd taken themselves out of sight of Morgana and the dining room. Arthur was entirely content to follow in his wake, even though he really, really didn't have to. Living for over two months in the Emerson estate had more than acquainted Arthur with its layout, even if it was a different experience to walk through it as a human of markedly larger size than a frog.

But Arthur didn't object. He would follow Merlin just about anywhere. He knew that now, accepted it as he'd very rarely accepted anything with such certainty. Arthur saw the opportunity. He saw the passing chance and he took it, like he always did.

He didn't pause to wonder why this one felt so much different to the rest of them.