4. So close

Nothing. Absolutely nothing. Arthur sighed and pulled on his boots to go out for some fresh air. Now he wondered if he should have done something. But no, he had just carried Merlin into his room, dumped him there and left, fighting the urge to sit on the edge of his bed and brush errant strands of hair off his face, and watch how his eyelashes fluttered prettily as he dreamed. But it would have been wrong to do that. A smile reached his face as he remembered how very drunk Merlin had been. He wondered how much Merlin remembered of last night.

Just outside of town there was small peaceful field, where nothing happened except for the wind moving through the long grass. Arthur sat on a fence at one end of it. It was a good place for thinking. Just then, a distant figure appeared on the other side of the field – Merlin? He seemed to be lugging a heavy bucket of something with one hand. Arthur yelled out and waved a hand, then ran across the field to meet Merlin halfway.

"What you got there?" he asked, looking at the bucket.

"Oh, just a cough and cold medicine I was brewing earlier. It's done now."

"Don't you think that's an awful lot of medicine?"

Merlin shrugged. "I guess. I wasn't really thinking about it." He had a small twig stuck in his hair, and Arthur almost reached a hand to remove it, but remembered where he was. He wished he could stop remembering where he was – if he didn't maybe something might actually happen. He smothered the following smile with a small cough into his hand.

"…at 7 then?"

"What?" He had missed half of that. That twig in Merlin's hair was really annoying him. Sighing, he lay back in the grass, and Merlin copied him.

"We're still meeting up at 7 for the marshmallow thing, right?"

"Oh yeah, that…" He muttered dreamily, thinking of other ways he could remove that twig… perhaps with his teeth… or pulling Merlin's shirt over his head would probably dislodge it…

"Meet up outside the pub?" Merlin's voice cut through his reverie.

"Yeah, sure. Where are we having this thing anyway?" Arthur asked, unfocussed. It seemed Merlin's head was also in the clouds, as he didn't reply. After a while he broke out of his trance and coughed, embarrassed.

"What is it?" Arthur frowned. Damn that twig. He could practically feel Merlin's hair running through his hands just by looking at it.

"What… erm… haha…" he laughed nervously. Oh my God please say– "Exactly what did I do when I was drunk last night?"

"Oh." Arthur's heart began to resume its normal rate. "You passed out. I shoved you in bed and left you to sleep it out. Bet you had a hangover and a half this morning!"

"I did," he confessed with a smile, barely hiding his relief. "What you staring at?" Ah. So it was obvious that Arthur was staring at his hair.

"Um… there's a twig… just there…" Go on, do it, he urged himself, and leaned in, reaching a hand towards Merlin's hair to take it out. He was leaning in closer than necessary, but pretended he couldn't quite see the twig, or was puzzling how to get it out. His hand found the twig and gently teased it out. Then, having succeeded, he showed Merlin the twig and smiled, looking straight into those lovely blue eyes. How had their faces got that close? He hoped Merlin couldn't hear how loud his heart was thumping. In his mind he asked, Do you want me? Unfortunately he couldn't hear Merlin as he inwardly screamed the affirmative. He leant away again and tossed the twig to one side, trying to steady himself. His hands were trembling slightly, he could feel them. He sat on them quickly. Then, realising he was about to fail completely at controlling himself if he stayed a moment longer, he stood quickly and managed to say, "See you at seven then," before walking away. As soon as he turned a corner and made it behind some tall bushes he started to run, the adrenalin pulsing through his muscles. What had he done?

He made it back to his room and fell onto his bed before punching the pillows passionately. Damn it, damn it, and damn it again! Why couldn't Merlin give him one inkling, just one little inkling of how he felt? As a Christmas gift perhaps, before he went insane. He went over to his draw and took out the three bags of marshmallows he had bought. He'd better start getting a grip or otherwise he'd never make it through an evening of sitting by a cute little bonfire with Merlin's eyes sparkling in the firelight…

He got up and began to pace the room. He needed a plan. A good plan, that would somehow bring them closer but have an escape route if his hopes were totally wrong. Did such a brilliant plan even exist? Surely it would be famous if there was such a plan? There was the getting drunk option – but that wouldn't work because they either wouldn't remember it or be too insensible to carry anything out. No, it would have to be sober, perhaps just one drink for confidence. He slapped himself on the forehead but it failed to dislodge any ingenious plans that might be clinging to his subconscious. He wasn't even sure Merlin was gay… there had been that girl… but Arthur had never been convinced about her… maybe he was just being too hopeful. The thought sobered him quickly. What could he do? Was it the truth that Merlin wasn't in the slightest bit interested in him or was it just his mind helpfully bracing him for the worst possible option should it be accurate? No, there was too much chemistry for it to be one way…

He stopped pacing. There seemed only one thing for it – he would simply go with the flow.