Back when we wrote this (2016!), one of my fond memories during the editing process was battling the British vs American spelling. Five years later, I, Crystia, concede defeat. Mapplepie has won this round.
ooo
"Merlin, we're going out this afternoon," Arthur announced, as Merlin puttered about in the background of his room.
Merlin had been shooting him peculiar looks ever since his 'confession', and that first day when he'd asked him to dine with him. Guarded, but with a growing, underlying uncertainty, as though he didn't quite know what to expect anymore. Arthur knew it was because he'd been treating Merlin... well, nicely.
It felt strange to Arthur too, but surprisingly not unpleasant. And he supposed sacrifices must be made in the name of friendship.
"Uh, no we're not," Merlin said, with a rather condescending smile on his face.
"I'm the prince," Arthur began, before remembering that he was trying to make Merlin forget that particular conversation. He continued hastily, "and surely you don't have anything better to do?"
"I do, actually," he shot back impudently. "I promised to collect herbs for Gaius."
Arthur scowled, and then a new idea occurred to him. It was an even better one, actually; it allowed Merlin to see his more compassionate side.
"Very well," he said decisively. "I'll help you."
Yes, he, a prince, would help his manservant collect herbs.
"Really," Merlin said dubiously, and Arthur bristled at the implication. "You're going to help me."
"That's what I said," Arthur glared, daring him to argue. "It's not like your work could possibly be that difficult if you're bright enough to do it."
He'd said it automatically, but then winced at the insult. Disparaging his manservant probably wasn't the best way to prove his 'confession' sincere (especially if it wasn't).
"Not that you don't have other charms," Arthur backtracked hastily, somewhat panicked. "And not to say you're a complete idiot. I mean, I know I say you are, but perhaps I have been a bit...unfair-" He was starting to sound like Guinevere.
Merlin interrupted his alarmed rambling with a snort.
"Well, you can keep me company, I suppose," he mused, losing interest in the conversation and restarting his chores. "I don't know why you're so keen to come, though."
"Can't I want to spend time in your company?" Arthur asked, affronted. While he might have said so for the purpose of his wooing, he found the question surprisingly honest. He did enjoy spending time with Merlin; in fact, he probably preferred his company to anyone else's.
Merlin gave him an unreadable look, oddly ingenuous at the question.
"I suppose you can," he said softly, and now Arthur was the one to feel unusually vulnerable. He looked away, swallowing hard, trying to ignore the fact that his mouth felt abnormally dry.
Merlin tended to play the fool, so when he took on a serious demeanor, when Merlin had those moments, those instances of wisdom in which he seemed almost otherworldly, Arthur always found himself at a bit of loss for words.
"Well, good," he said, clearing his throat to dissipate the strange atmosphere. Merlin gave him a quirky smile, and Arthur caught himself staring.
He looked away.
"Good," he repeated.
ooo
"You want ones with these types of leaves," Merlin was saying, as Arthur half-listened to his flowing words. "Make sure they have the four lobes; ignore the ones with three, those will just give you stomach aches."
"All right, all right," Arthur agreed absentmindedly, mind on his intentions for the afternoon instead.
Without Merlin noticing, he'd managed to sneak lunches for the both of them onto the side of his steed, hidden among all his usual bags. It was quite the feat, given that Merlin generally took charge of preparing the animals to be ridden. He'd asked the cook to pack their lunches; he knew better than to attempt his own cooking after the fiasco with Gwen. He also knew better than to lie about it this time, as well. If Gwen had seen through him, then Merlin most definitely would.
"Are you sure?" Merlin asked doubtfully.
"Yes, Merlin," Arthur drawled impatiently. "It's hardly advanced maths."
Part of the difficulty laid in the fact that he wasn't used to being nice to Merlin, and certainly not to sneaking around him. Their relationship wasn't one based entirely on sweet, honeyed conversations; he could hardly imagine wooing Merlin in the way the bards sang about knights wooing their beloved.
Rather, their relationship was based on trust and a mutual enjoyment of each other's company. It was a relationship in which Merlin knew everything that Arthur did, and sometimes even what he thought. While that wasn't something he minded anymore, considering how efficient it made the pair, it was not conducive to surprising Merlin with picnics or fooling him with false confessions.
There was a measure of irony in the fact that Arthur had wanted everything to return to normal, and yet here, he was actively trying to change the status quo so that it could return to normal.
Arthur was certain he must have angered some terrible god, in that he didn't even have help with the courting this time. With Guinevere, Merlin had assisted him. So who was supposed to help him with Merlin?
Arthur dumped an assemblage of herbs into his basket with a scowl, unsure if he'd picked the right ones, but not particularly caring either. Did Merlin say to pick the plants with three lobes or four? Merlin could sort them out later.
A cluster of blue flowers in the periphery of his vision caught his attention. Arthur studied them for a moment. It occurred to him that they matched the colour of Merlin's eyes, and then in the same moment, it also suddenly occurred that trying to prove his confession was trifling with his brain, if such fanciful thoughts befell him even when said confession had been a lie.
Yet, he should be taking the situation seriously, so of course such thoughts should occur to him, especially considering he was staking his friendship on the success of convincing Merlin the sincerity of his feelings. The idea made him uncomfortable, but discomfort was a small price to pay, if it meant earning forgiveness.
Besides, so far it hadn't been terrible. Having company for breakfast had been pleasant, even, and treating Merlin like an equal felt ... right.
Affirming his resolve, Arthur picked the flowers, feeling foolish as he did so, but they really did match Merlin's eyes perfectly. He'd be remiss not to take the opportunity, as awkward as it felt.
That did beg the question, however, of why Arthur had been staring at Merlin's eyes frequently enough that he could match their shade exactly.
Nevertheless, he did favor picking flowers over herbs. He was sure Merlin would like them better anyway, so he set out to find different flowers in a variety of complementary blues. He was about to take his pickings to his manservant, when a pair of golden flowers caught his regard. It didn't match with the scheme, but he picked them anyway, and he found their addition quite fetching. He was certain Morgana would have something disparaging to say about his flower-arranging, but he doubted Merlin would have such supercilious opinions on bouquets. Arthur chose instead to listen to what he supposed Gwen would say; he imagined she'd think it rather sweet. He could only hope Merlin would agree.
"Arthur, did you finish gathering the plants I—" Merlin drew up short, giving him a mistrustful look when he saw the bundle of flowers in Arthur's arms. "What are you doing?"
"I," Arthur began, and whereas before he'd dedicated himself so thoroughly into his flower-gathering task as to not feel any nerves, he felt as though it all crashed down on him at once when faced with the necessity of actually presenting them. Merlin was going to laugh.
"Arthur," Merlin said slowly, as though speaking to someone extremely dense. "I'm sure you worked very hard, but those aren't actually herbs."
"I know that," Arthur said defensively. "I just thought... these suited you better. Your eyes, I mean. So I thought I'd give you these instead."
Suddenly, slacking off on picking the herbs didn't seem like such an intelligent approach, after all. In fact, the whole thing was a terrible idea, and Merlin's idiocy must be catching that he'd even attempted such a thing—
"You... Did you pick me flowers, Arthur?" Merlin blurted incredulously.
"Yes," he said uncertainly, then, with more confidence, "no. Yes. Maybe. I—"
Merlin approached cautiously, gingerly reaching out to touch the petals when he drew close enough. Arthur's rambling cut off; the blue really did complement his eyes perfectly, and contrasted with his skin in a rather flattering light. Arthur could almost see why a girl—or man, even—might fancy him; Merlin could be quite handsome, if he happened to suit someone's taste...
"Why?" Merlin asked slowly, and Arthur blinked, having lost track of the conversation in his musings. He fumbled for an answer.
"They matched your eyes," he managed, and then mentally kicked himself; he'd already said that.
Merlin's fingers trailed over to the pair of golden flowers, just off center, and looked up with a questioning look, expression guarded.
To his mortification, Arthur felt himself flushing. "I picked those two on a whim," he admitted in a rush. "I thought they looked nice, but I never had Morgana's flower-arranging lessons. If they displease you—"
"No," Merlin interrupted, his expression clearing at Arthur's explanation. His lips twitched into a smile, as if he had a secret. Arthur's eyes caught on his mouth as a result. "I like them."
"Oh," Arthur said dumbly, blinking out of his daze. A rush of relief overwhelmed him when the words registered. Merlin reached out to gently take the flowers from him, and Arthur swallowed, his throat suddenly dry. "Oh."
Merlin fidgeted with the flowers, giving a slight sneeze, before fidgeting some more. He peeked up at Arthur from behind them, until Arthur could see a hint of blue from underneath his eyelashes, and then quickly looked back down. The tips of his ears were turning quite red, and Arthur found himself assailed by a suddenly jovial mood. He smiled widely.
Merlin glanced up at him again, and his eyes widened when he caught Arthur's expression.
"Should we head back to the castle for lunch, then?" Merlin blurted, looking horribly, delightfully embarrassed by the whole situation.
"No need," Arthur said, taking a hold of Merlin's arm, and tugging him buoyantly towards the horses, bouquet and all. When they reached them, he unstrapped his bags and revealed their lunch with a flourish. "I thought we'd make a day of it, so I planned ahead."
"You didn't ask me to get us lunch," Merlin said, baffled.
"I thought you might like to sleep in, so I told the kitchen staff last night," Arthur explained, to which Merlin looked even more dumbfounded.
"You actually thought about this," Merlin said disbelievingly.
Arthur felt slightly offended at that, but his mood was too cheery to ruin so easily. "Unlike certain people, Merlin," Arthur said imperiously, "some of us are capable of planning ahead."
Merlin snorted, finally breaking into his own hesitant smile, finding Arthur's reluctantly contagious.
"Some of us are also capable of counting to four," Merlin said bemusedly, snatching a three-lobed plant from Arthur's bag. "But maybe I just expect too much of you, Arthur."
Arthur reached out to cuff the back of Merlin's head in response. Merlin ducked out of the way, laughing brightly. The ensuing chase and impromptu wrestling match resulted in dirtied breeches, ruffled hair, and mildly squashed lunches, but Merlin was breathless and happily flushed, and Arthur suspected he might have looked much the same.
Collecting the herbs took twice as long since Arthur kept distracting Merlin instead of helping. Still, Arthur considered the afternoon a success, and to his astonishment, found that he'd probably enjoyed himself just as much as Merlin. He worried that he wasn't wooing him correctly, but Merlin still blushed and fell uncharacteristically silent when he went to retrieve his flowers to bring on the trip home.
To Arthur's dismay, Merlin's sneezing began and intensified on the ride back; Merlin was most definitely allergic to the flowers. He suggested several times for Merlin to just leave the bouquet, but Merlin only ignored him in between the sneezes.
It warmed him more than he'd like to admit, when they made it all the way back to Camelot, and he could still see the bundle of flowers tucked securely in Merlin's pouch.
ooo
"What are we doing here?" Merlin asked, looking uncomfortable and out of place.
Arthur had shoved him into a secluded corner of the Rising Sun seconds ago, before quickly waving down the barmaid for two drinks.
"I would expect you of all people to know what people do in the tavern, Merlin," Arthur retorted cheerfully, pleased with himself for his newest idea. He'd been drawing a blank for new ways to impress Merlin these past few days. In a stroke of genius, he'd suddenly recalled his manservant's love for the tavern.
Merlin eyed the tankard in front of him. "I don't like ale," he said.
Arthur scoffed. "After all the times you've skipped your duties for a drink? I'm even giving you permission this time," he drawled, smirk on his face, but the amusement in his tone never lessened.
Slowly, Merlin wrapped his hands around the tankard, bringing it up to his mouth. He glanced at Arthur over his mead before finally loosening with a smile.
"Well … I suppose, if you insist," he murmured to Arthur's infectious cheer.
"I've got the coin. Drink up."
And drink Merlin did, until he was spectacularly drunk barely hours into it.
It was embarrassing to see Merlin such a lightweight. How he could spend so much time in the tavern and still be so ridiculously terrible at holding his liquor, Arthur didn't know.
As he manhandled the idiot out of the establishment, he sighed. It'd only taken a little more than two drinks to reduce Merlin to this state. Arthur didn't even get a chance to enjoy himself, deciding it would be best to escort him home before a defenseless, drunk Merlin could get into trouble.
"It's a wonder I'm not required to carry your drunk arse home more often," Arthur muttered, mostly to himself. Merlin stumbled down the alley.
"I don'-" he said, before breaking off into a little giggle. "I to-old you I don't go t'the tavern."
It was like the muscles in Merlin's tongue had forgotten how to function. It was surprisingly entertaining to watch. Arthur humoured his manservant by replying.
"Where do you go, then?"
Merlin stopped, swaying in spot. He blinked owlishly for a long second, like he couldn't comprehend Arthur's words.
"To save you?" he then finally replied, head tilted and brows furrowed, as if thinking hard. He blinked again and then nodded to himself. "Fo' my destiny."
"Really."
"You'd be dead wi'hout me," Merlin declared.
"Perhaps," Arthur conceded. At the very least he'd have died from boredom.
A grin blossomed on Merlin's face.
Merlin whirled around until he was completely facing Arthur. His face was red from the alcohol, and eyes half-lidded as he tried to stay awake.
There was a distant tone to his voice when he spoke next. "I wish-" he began, and then tumbled gracelessly.
Arthur shot forwards. His arms slid around Merlin to support his weight, pulling Merlin to lean on him. It wasn't a particularly cold night, but Merlin shivered in his chest. He patted Merlin's cheek gently, trying to keep him awake. He didn't want to lug a limp body all the way back to Gaius' chambers, after all.
"What do you wish?" Arthur asked encouragingly. Merlin let out a sigh.
"I wish you were real," he breathed into the material of Arthur's tunic.
Arthur chuckled, and Merlin splayed his hands across Arthur's stomach, curiously feeling the vibrating muscles.
"How am I not real?" Arthur questioned. Arthur pushed Merlin's head until his ear was pressed on top of Arthur's heart where the rhythmic beating echoed for the manservant to hear. "Isn't that proof I'm real?"
Merlin leaned deeper into Arthur, as if trying to bury himself there and never leave. Still, he shook his head, frantically like Arthur didn't understand. "That's not what I- No, I know-."
"Merlin," Arthur said firmly.
Merlin rolled his head until his chin was on Arthur's chest, glazed blue eyes staring his master under dark lashes. The rumble of his voice tickled Arthur's skin, and Arthur's breathing involuntarily hitched.
"You'll laugh and take it back," Merlin whispered painfully.
"You're not making sense. Take what back?" he demanded.
"Your words, your-" he let out a little hiccup.
"Merlin."
Merlin shook his head on Arthur's tunic. "Just let me pretend," he pleaded softly.
"What are you on about?" Arthur demanded once more, but Merlin's eyes were closed and he was left with an armful of his drunken manservant, fast asleep and oblivious to the world.
ooo
Arthur could do courteous.
Although admittedly, applying all his knightly, chivalrous ways to Merlin, of all people, was an experience like no other.
If he'd known it would be so entertaining, however, perhaps he would have tried it ages ago. Every time Arthur held open the door for him, helped Merlin carry his things, or even pulled out his chair for him during their now-routine morning breakfasts, Merlin would look torn between glaring, flushing in terrible embarrassment, or looking utterly confused.
It was remarkably entertaining, and Arthur found himself actually growing enthusiastic about this 'wooing Merlin' business. Even if he'd only confessed out of a desperate attempt to save their friendship, he had to admit that Merlin's reactions were incredibly amusing, if not endearing - speaking as a friend, of course.
The only challenge was finding new ways to catch Merlin off guard. His manservant seemed to have realized Arthur's construed entertainment at Merlin's embarrassment, and so he tried to adopt a graceful acceptance to all of Arthur's advances. He actually managed fairly well when Arthur repeated his gestures; he did little more than blink in surprise at the breakfasts or the door-holding anymore.
The tavern experience, however, Arthur decided not to repeat. Something about that day had made his chest ache, as confusing as Merlin had been, and somehow he couldn't bring himself to put Merlin in that state once more.
So Arthur sat at his desk, pondering new ways to romance his manservant while said servant sat at the table, polishing his armour. Merlin had been doing the job in the armoury when he'd been angry, but lately he'd begun doing so in Arthur's room again.
Music filtered in from below Arthur's window. He'd cracked the glass open, given that it was a beautiful spring evening, and in doing so, they could now hear the sound of a violin drifting up from the courtyard and through the twilight air. The room itself was lit softly in the setting sun's light, not quite dark enough for candles yet, but glowing warm and intimate.
Arthur was hit with a sudden inspiration at the scene.
Before he knew it, he'd approached Merlin and stood in front of him, impulsively offering his arm.
Merlin glanced up at him, startled. "Sire?"
"I was wondering if you'd like to dance," Arthur proclaimed, although his confidence waned just after he'd gotten out the words.
Merlin was giving him that look again, the one that said Arthur was being ridiculous and that Merlin was sure that he must be joking, because otherwise, he'd finally drawn enough evidence to conclude that the prince was a complete idiot.
In between the glaring-embarrassed-confused Merlin, his manservant also had a proclivity towards laughing at just as many of his pursuits. Whereas Arthur's nerves, while present, would largely dissipate in the face of a perplexed in Merlin, in the face of a poised Merlin, Arthur would find himself at twice of a loss.
He'd yet to find a pattern to Merlin's responses, and somehow he doubted he ever would. Arthur had hence concluded that Merlin was an impossible and unpredictable ninny, due to the fact that no one could comprehend how his irrational mind worked.
"You're asking me to dance?" Merlin asked, his voice almost a tease. He also had a tendency to repeat what Arthur said, and making it sound positively absurd when coming out of his own mouth.
Still, Arthur could hardly back down now, or else it would be like admitting defeat.
Besides, he'd found that despite Merlin's occasional apparent mockery, the manservant would usually go along with him, so long as he didn't back down.
"Are you saying no?" Arthur challenged, still holding out his arm, as though he were escorting someone to a royal gathering. He made sure to keep the apprehensiveness out of his tone.
"No," Merlin said, and then continued quickly, upon seeing Arthur's face fall, "I mean, no, I'm not saying no. I just-"
"You just what?" Arthur asked in exasperation, feeling rather foolish just standing there.
"Are you really offering me to escort me five feet away from my chair?" Merlin asked, looking pointedly down at Arthur's offered forearm.
"Shut up, Merlin," said Arthur, especially embarrassed when Merlin burst out into peals of laughter. Still, he hadn't said no; in fact, he'd said he was not saying no, so Arthur took the initiative to snatch up Merlin's hand and place it inside his elbow.
Merlin followed along easily, loose-limbed and relaxed, smiling brightly. Feeling his face heat up inexplicably, Arthur glanced away, and he had a feeling he was blushing visibly, if Merlin's renewed laughter was anything to go by.
They reached the open area of his room. Merlin appeared to take pity on him by loosening his grip so that he could turn and face Arthur, and lean up to murmur in his ear.
"I accept your invitation," he said, and he sounded so different, when he used that tone of voice. His close proximity caused Arthur's heart to triple in speed.
It felt unbelievably intimate, until Merlin drew back, laughing again. Despite that, however, Arthur's heart refused to slow down at all in response.
"Just don't step on my toes," Arthur said, trying to cover his agitation. He didn't understand why he was so flustered; he hadn't even gotten this bad with Guinevere.
"Oh, I will," Merlin said cheerfully. "I don't know why you asked me, I'm just a peasant who can't tell a waltz from a jig. You will be suffering by the end of this."
Surprisingly, Arthur was a bit reassured by this information, and built up the nerve to pull Merlin closer and look him in the eye. It was only polite, after all. Taking the lead, he positioned Merlin's hands as he would for a lady; it wasn't as though Merlin would be able to tell the difference anyway. He began to move to the distant music, and Merlin followed obligingly. Merlin did step on his foot more than once, but he picked up the pattern quickly enough.
Watching his feet more than he should, and clutching at Arthur's shoulders for balance, he wasn't the most graceful partner the prince had ever had. On the other hand, he was perhaps the most entertaining. It was enjoyable, doing this with a friend instead of out of the necessity to build a political alliance.
"I don't know. This isn't so bad," Arthur said honestly, his voice intimate, unable to stop his gaze from drifting down to Merlin's lips as he leaned in. Their foreheads brushed, and finally, Merlin's breath was the one to catch.
"Says the one who doesn't have to dance with a dollophead," Merlin quipped, but he stepped in even closer, his actions at odds with his words. Arthur tightened his grip and heard Merlin's breath hitch again in response.
"You don't 'have' to dance with anyone. You want to," Arthur murmured suggestively; they were barely even dancing anymore, just swaying, pressed together at a most improper distance. "You want to dance with me."
"I might want to do more than that," Merlin suggested lewdly. His eyes were cautious at first, as if testing Arthur's reception, but that only lasted a flicker of a second. Then a mischievous grin discreetly crossed his features as he quickly turned his face, their noses unintentionally brushing at the movement.
Arthur would never live down the fact that, despite years of dancing lessons as a child and adolescent, and regardless that Merlin was the farmboy who didn't know so much as the basics, Arthur was the one to stumble over his feet.
He hadn't blundered such a simple dance in years, and yet one salacious comment from Merlin and he turned into a clumsy oaf.
Of course, they were standing so closely together that as soon as Arthur misstepped, their legs tangled and they fell with a crash. Groaning, Merlin lifted his head to look down at Arthur, who he'd toppled on top of. He burst out laughing at the sight, hiding his face in Arthur's shoulder and not bothering to get up.
Arthur felt affronted at the moment, but Merlin was warm, and the situation was rather ridiculous. When Merlin finally gathered himself, stood, and offered him a hand up, Arthur took it and didn't bother stifling a laugh of his own.
ooo
"Come along, Merlin," Arthur called, pulling Merlin through the citadel with a hand clasped tightly on his wrist. Merlin stumbled behind him, eyes wide and clueless, darting around as if trying to catch sight of what had Arthur so excited.
"Where are we going?" Merlin asked, huffing breathlessly as he kept up with Arthur's pace.
His question drew a nervous grin to Arthur's face. "It's a surprise."
Merlin stared doubtfully at him.
"You'll love it," Arthur promised.
"Like the impromptu dance?" Merlin's brow scrunched into a concerned knot. Still, there was amusement in his eyes.
Arthur flushed at the reminder, still embarrassed at blundering a step and sending the two of them to the floor. "You didn't seem to mind it."
For a quick flicker of a second, Merlin's face showed exasperated fondness, before becoming cautious once more. "So, can I at least have a hint?" Merlin wondered warily.
"You'll see when we get there."
Arthur nodded past the guards as he shoved Merlin up the stairs to the wall of the castle. Each stumble of his manservant drew a twitch to his lips.
Merlin reached the top of the wall before him; considering Arthur had purposefully planted himself a step behind, ready to catch the clumsy idiot should he fall the wrong direction, that was no surprise.
Merlin dithered by the edge, leaning carelessly over to observe the ground below. Arthur's heart stuttered at the thought of the long drop.
"Merlin, get over here," he demanded, resisting the urge to pull him back by his collar.
Together they leaned on the parapet, propped by their elbows. The stony walls dug into skin, but surprisingly, Arthur found he couldn't care less.
The sky was painted in colours of pinks, blues, and oranges that softened the world around them. It was a fitting place, Arthur thought, to haze their sight with the warmth of romance.
Merlin, of course, didn't notice. He seemed to have his eyes latched on the ground, scanning the forest around Camelot, posture rigid. Arthur didn't know what he was expecting, an impending invasion?
Arthur bumped his shoulder against Merlin's. "That's not why we're here. Look up," he murmured, head tilted to indicate far off past Camelot's borders where the sun was slowly setting
Merlin looked up, then his eyes grew as he took in the sight. The tense stance he'd held himself in quickly relaxed. His body melted into a more comfortable lounge on the parapet, eyes enchanted by the horizon.
Arthur slumped down until they were on the same level, leaning in towards Merlin. "Isn't it beautiful?" he breathed by his ear.
Perhaps it was just from the glow of the setting sun, but Merlin's skin flushed red.
There was a choked hum from the back of Merlin's throat that served as his answer, gaze fixed decisively on the setting sun.
Arthur pursed his lips. "Merlin," he said lowly.
"Yes?" came his strangled voice.
"Like your surprise?" Arthur asked softly, slinging an arm across Merlin's shoulders. It was a friendly gesture he'd done many times, and yet somehow, this time it suddenly felt different. He didn't move, though, finding he liked the contact, even if it felt strange.
Merlin stiffened, eyes wildly peeking glances at Arthur.
"Er…" He gave an experimental shrug of his shoulder as if testing if Arthur's arm was truly there or not, before clearing his throat and sharply pulling his eyes back towards the sun. "Much better than the tavern, I suppose," he said, breathier than usual.
Arthur snorted but grinned, pulling Merlin closer. He didn't tug very hard, but Merlin still stumbled into Arthur's chest.
"I thought that wasn't so bad. You made an affectionate drunk," Arthur commented nonchalantly, resting his head by Merlin's. "Just relax, sun's almost completely set. Don't want you to get cold."
Merlin's form was stiff and motionless underneath the warmth of Arthur's body draped over him.
"Uh, right. Sunset. Cold," he agreed, words losing all semblance of English grammar.
The fragmented sentence encouraged Arthur, as for once he wasn't the flustered wooer, and he resolved to hold Merlin as long as he could. Merlin was finally growing conscious of his presence.
He gallantly refrained from pointing it out, instead focusing back on the setting sun.
Gradually Merlin relaxed, his tense form loosening and finally molding into Arthur's chest. Eventually he even started to looked comfortable, fit snuggly between Arthur's arms like he belonged there.
"Merlin," Arthur said suddenly.
The manservant gave an unintelligible hum.
"Merlin," Arthur repeated.
Again, there was a hum, this time lilting at the end to signify a question.
"Merlin."
Merlin scowled.
"What?" he demanded, finally turning his head towards him. At that movement, Arthur leaned forwards, capturing Merlin's lips with his own.
Then, he possibly broke Merlin.
There were two possible scenarios Arthur had been imagining – in the first and most probable scenario, Merlin would reciprocate by leaning into the kiss; and in the second, Merlin would panic and pull back like a startled rabbit, if he was feeling particularly shy.
What actually occurred was: nothing.
Merlin froze the moment Arthur's lips met his, eyes stuck perpetually wide and unblinking, dazed to the world. He was eerily still, and his breathing even seemed to have stuttered to a halt.
Arthur quickly pulled back, concerned.
"Merlin? All right there, Merlin?" he questioned hesitantly.
There was no answer. The manservant stared at him with wide, slightly wild eyes.
Arthur immediately detached his limbs from around him, worried about the way Merlin was as still as a stone statue, immobilised even while Arthur fussed about.
He thought perhaps if he gave Merlin a moment to collect himself, his servant would say something, so he turned to ostentatiously watch the sunset once more. Even so, most of his focus remained on Merlin out of the corner of his eye. In his periphery, Merlin reach up and touch his lips uncertainly, and then jerkily yank his hand away.
"All right," Arthur said slowly, after a long minute of continued discreet staring in increasingly tense silence. He wondered if his words were even reaching him anymore. "Merlin, perhaps it would be best if I take you home now. Nod if you understand."
Merlin stared at him with eyes like a spooked deer looking down the shaft of an arrow.
Arthur frowned anxiously. In all his years with Merlin, he'd never heard him speechless. He wasn't sure if it was a good sign or not.
"I'm going to have to carry you," he announced to the silence, hoping to elicit a response. Merlin had never much appreciated such sentiments.
Still there was nothing.
"Fine," Arthur said, and then he did the next best thing, manhandling Merlin's body and dragging him along until they finally reached Gaius' chambers.
Which, upon revisiting this idea, was perhaps not the best place to return to, given that they ran straight into Gaius.
"My Lord?" the physician asked, raising an eyebrow at the scene.
"Ah, Gaius," Arthur said, fidgety. He tried not to look guilty, but he couldn't help as his gaze darted over to peek at Merlin. His ungrateful servant didn't even have the decency to recover his wits and get him out of this mess.
"And may I inquire as to why the prince felt it necessary to return Merlin personally?" Gaius asked delicately after it became apparent that he'd need to speak first. Arthur felt about six years old again, as if he'd knocked over one of the physician's beakers and had to explain why he'd been playing under the table.
Arthur suddenly wondered if Merlin had told Gaius about his confession, and Arthur's nerves ratcheted up yet another notch.
He cleared his throat. "Ah, Merlin seems to be feeling... remarkably tired right now. Can barely get a word out of him, and didn't want to find him to fall down the stairs in his daze. He's clumsy enough on a normal evening."
"Indeed," Gaius agreed neutrally, seemingly deciding to let it go. "Well, in that case, I thank you, Sire, for your kind concern. I think I can take him from here—"
"No!" Arthur exclaimed, too loudly.
Gaius halted, looking at him expectantly.
Suddenly struck with a horrible guilty conscious—which was ridiculous, because Arthur hadn't even done anything to warrant it!—he couldn't imagine anything worse than Merlin spontaneously regaining his speech and telling the physician about the botched kiss.
It was equally distressing as the case where Merlin didn't snap out of his strange stupor and was therefore unable to tell Gaius that Arthur, in fact, was not responsible for permanently brain damaging his ward, and thus resulting in Gaius drawing the wrong conclusion and finding some way to seek righteous retribution.
Of course, Arthur was guilty of pretending to be in love with his best friend, but there were some things best left unsaid.
"That is- I only meant, it's no extra trouble," Arthur said with a forced smile, sweat trickling down his neck.
"I'm sure Merlin appreciates it, my Lord," Gaius said eventually, apparently deciding not to press the point. Arthur gave an internal sigh of relief.
With one last winning smile to Gaius, he dragged Merlin back to his room, and managed to dump him onto his bed. He even generously tucked Merlin under his covers, before stepping back and giving himself an approving nod at his handiwork.
"Well then, goodnight, Merlin," Arthur bid quietly, when there was nothing left to do. He quickly removed himself from Merlin's room, pulling the door softly closed.
Then, faintly from the other side of the door, there was a feeble, "Goodnight, Arthur?" and Arthur face drew into a relieved smile, letting out a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding, as he counted the evening as a success after all.
By the time he fell asleep himself, he still hadn't managed to stop smiling.
ooo
Arthur was in his chambers when a knock sounded on his doors.
"Come in," he called out.
The door opened to reveal Guinevere, who quickly dropped into a polite, apologetic bow at interrupting his evening. He stepped forward to meet her.
"My Lord," Guinevere greeted with an uncertain waver in her voice, "May I speak with you?" Despite her tone, however, there was something resolute in her eyes which made Arthur unable to deny her request – not that he ever would. He always appreciated Gwen's presence.
Gwen slipped inside. She let the doors shut behind her to preserve their privacy before continuing, straight to the point.
"Merlin let slip," Gwen murmured apologetically. Arthur stared blankly back. "About your confession," she clarified.
"Oh." There was a sudden desire to deny her words, because knowing Merlin, he probably painted Arthur as a lovesick fool. But then, staring into Gwen's concerned eyes, and recalling the conversation they shared previously, Arthur gave a stiff nod instead. "It's working out fine. You were right to assume he would forgive me if I confess," he added, just in case Merlin gave her crazy ideas about Arthur's supposed confession.
Guinevere's response was a soft, "Did you mean it?"
"He's Merlin," Arthur said, as though that explained everything. As far as Arthur was concerned, it did. Guinevere, on the other hand, only scrunched her brows together in a worried frown, fingers pulling anxiously around the loose edge of her dress. "Merlin's finally forgiven me," Arthur continued blithely, refusing to let Gwen's reaction throw him into agitation. "Do you have any idea how dull it was with him like … that? "
Gwen's lips pulled into a strict, disapproving line. Even so, she lowered her head as she spoke, well aware she was talking to the Prince of Camelot.
"Arthur, don't you think you're going too far? I thought you understood."
"It's just a little lie," Arthur defended immediately, hating the unease her words struck in him. "I'm not hurting him."
If anything, it was the opposite. And while it was true that, as Gwen previously alluded, misleading Merlin with false affection was dishonourable, it was only Arthur who could be accused of this dishonourable act, not Merlin. Merlin's honour remained intact.
Nevertheless, Gwen didn't look pleased.
"You can't play with someone's feelings like that," she admonished sharply, feelings wrapped so tightly onto her every word that Arthur couldn't look away. "Loving someone isn't an idle thing. It affects the heart in a way nothing else can compare. Lies and false hope may seem harmless at first, but they will bring nothing but devastation when the truth is revealed. It's a cruel thing to do." She bit her lip. "My Lord," she tacked on belatedly, after a pause.
"You think I should retract my confession?"
"It would be for the best," she agreed.
Arthur could understand Guinevere's concern, but things were working out wonderfully with Merlin. How could he be called cruel if Merlin seemed to be enjoying himself as well, offering Arthur cheery grins each and every day?
"It can't be that bad. He's finally forgiven me."
"Because of a lie," Gwen argued, her dark curls quivering with verve. "Merlin deserves to be truly loved, and not just for your own gain." The handmaiden shook her head, fixing a remorseful look on Arthur. "This is deception."
"Then I won't let him find out."
"Be realistic, Arthur," Gwen pleaded. "Lies cannot last forever. If Merlin were to find out, you'll suffer more than just his temper. You need to fix this before it gets worse."
Gradually, a frown marred his face as Gwen's words sunk in. He was sure Gwen had mentioned this before, but somehow, only now, did the consequence really sink in. Because now that he had Merlin closer than ever, the idea of possibility of losing him carried a much heavier feeling in his heart than ever before.
"Please understand," she continued, looking imploringly at him. "It's not just Merlin I'm worried about. If he doesn't forgive you…" The words hesitated on her lips. "I don't want you to hurt as well."
Arthur deflated at her words. "I understand," he replied at last. "I do, Guinevere. Thank you."
She held silent, waiting for him to continue.
Arthur let out a sigh.
He finally did understand, but what she wanted him to do was impossible; it was too late now. It was Merlin's fault, doubting his confession to the point where Arthur had no choice but to promise his sincerity, and then do so much to prove it. How could he retract all the courting he'd done?
"I understand," Arthur carried on, "but I still can't. I can't take back my word."
"You intend on continuing to give Merlin false hope?"
"It's not false if he doesn't find out. Turning back is impossible at this point, not after all I've done," he argued back with a hint of asperity in his voice.
"How long do you plan to keep this up?"
Arthur could hear the disappointment in Gwen's frustrated tone, yet he had no answer for her. "Forever," is what he wanted to say, but Gwen wouldn't like the answer, and to be honest, was it even possible? He knew he shouldn't keep lying to Merlin, but he also couldn't retract his confession.
He sighed, deciding to put off the choice; he'll dwell on deciding how to best handle the situation tomorrow.
ooo
Lol! Mapplepie and I wrote & completed this whole thing five years ago... Last edit was made January 16, 2016. Funny story, we never posted the rest even though it's all done. We were chatting today about how Netflix was recommending Merlin to us, almost ten years since we watched it... and then we remembered this fic! (Is the Netflix algorithm sending anyone else down memory lane?)
Anyway, we're going to try and get the rest of this up in the upcoming weeks, if anyone's still around! Say hi if you are, haha.