A/N: This chapter contains a wee bit of pre-Arthur/Gwen acknowledgments. Nothing heavy-handed and nothing that's going to permeate the rest of the story if you're not a Arthur/Gwen fan. But please no Arwen bashing. After all, the pairing is canon both in the show and the actual legends, and I'm simply acknowledging that. The focus is still very much on the bromance as you will see.

Ch. 4

The thing about illnesses was that they were bastards, and the reason why they were bastards – beyond the usual aches and pains and general misery – was because they liked to get worse before they got better. They were also hell-bent on sticking around for as long as they could get away with it.

Merlin's medicines helped him with the congestion, aches and fever but did little against the lethargy. If Arthur had thought Merlin was sleeping his life away before, it was nothing compared to now. It didn't matter how many naps the kid took, even awake he looked in desperate need of more sleep. All Arthur could say was thank goodness for the protein shakes, soup and cereal, which was all Merlin had the appetite for these days.

And yet the idiot still insisted on tidying up despite Arthur's stern orders not to. But Merlin, as Arthur soon found out, was surprisingly sneaky for someone so timid. The flat remained so spotless it was easy to forget that two people... no, three now... lived there.

The only thing the illness couldn't do, it seemed, was keep Merlin out of sight when it most mattered. Of all the times Merlin had to be awake, parked listlessly on the couch and watching TV just as listlessly while nursing a protein shake, it would be when Morgana decided to drop by – in pure Morgana fashion – without warning.

While Arthur wasn't home.

When Arthur walked into his flat, it was like walking into an interior design war zone. Morgana had been shopping – again – dragging a flustered Gwen with her – again – and had decided - again - to take it upon herself to make Arthur's flat a bastion of domestic beauty with new curtains. Merlin was huddled in his usual place, clutching his drink like a life-line and watching the proceedings with the trepidation of one wondering if they needed to stop this but not having to the courage to try. The look he shot Arthur when Arthur had dropped his brief case – loudly – was helpless, pathetic and contrite.

"You're place was in dire need of new curtains, Arthur," Morgana said, fixing the newly burdened curtain rod back into place over the sliding door to the balcony. At least they were dark blue curtains instead of the white lacy things Morgana was rather fond of. "Don't argue it."

"Morgana, I've long since learned not to argue with you on matters of home decorating, you know this." He rolled his eyes at Merlin, who responded with a hesitant smile.

Arthur then looked at Gwen who was neatly folding the old white curtains and placing them in one of the shopping bags. She looked up at him, smiled shyly and it made Arthur's heart skip several happy beats in his chest.

"I tried to stop her but you know how she is," Gwen said.

"Mm-hmm. Let me guess. She bought them for her place but they didn't go with anything in her wardrobe," Arthur said.

"Arthur, Arthur, Arthur," Morgana said. She stepped back to admire her handiwork. After a satisfied nod, she went over to Arthur and kissed him on the cheek. "Can't a sister do something nice for her brother?"

Arthur chuckled, shaking his head. "Can't you practice your design fetish on your own place?"

"When mine is perfect and yours so drab? Really, Arthur. I think you should be thanking me. I am doing this for free, you know." She looked around. "And I must say it's nice to finally see you taking care of the place. Finally caved and hired a maid?"

Arthur smiled saccharine at her. "You'll never know. Now, do you want tea or something or are you off now that you played Frankenstein with my windows?" He made his way into the kitchen. "Gwen?" he asked.

"Oh, nothing for me, thank you," Gwen said brightly. A bubble of disappointment popped in Arthur's chest.

"We do have to be off," Morgana said, gathering her shopping bags half scattered around the place. As she did so, and while Arthur rummaged through the fridge, she leaned in and said under her breath, "Arthur, where did you find Merlin? He's absolutely adorable."

"Why? Want one of your own?"

Morgana elbowed him none too gently. "I'm serious. Arthur, most of the friends you make are worth less than the gum I scrape off the bottom of my shoe. Do you know what the first thing Merlin did when he let us in?"

"Ah, so it's his fault."

"Quiet Arthur. So the poor thing's shaking like a leaf, looking like warmed-over death and not only does he offer to make us tea and help put the curtains up, but he didn't once try to hit on us. Arthur, I didn't think you had it in you to actually make a friend with manners."

Arthur glanced over the fridge door at the subject in question. He was currently chatting it up with Gwen who was leaning over the couch. Really, it was mostly Gwen doing the chatting, Merlin smiling shyly, nodding and occasionally giving a brief verbal answer. But that was Gwen for you. All she had to do was walk into a room and one couldn't help but smile.

Arthur was brought back into the conversation with another elbow to the ribs.

"Seriously, Arthur, where did you meet him?" Morgana asked.

Arthur shrugged and resumed his rummaging, mostly to look busy, also mostly hoping Morgana would drop the subject and go away. "He's... just a mate who needed a place to stay, that's all. I am capable of making polite friends, Morgana. Why does it matter? Do you fancy him or something?"

"Not really," Morgana said dismissively. "Too skinny and too young. But there's a sad lack of sweet gentlemen in the world and I don't want you corrupting him."

"I doubt I could if I tried," Arthur muttered. He stared into the fridge now currently cluttered with protein shakes of various flavors and other foods – store bought foods in vacuum packs and cartons rather than take out boxes. The last time he'd seen a fridge this well-stocked had been when he was living at home. But Merlin needed more than protein shakes and take-out, even if his appetite wasn't up to par at the moment.

Arthur really couldn't get over how much he was doing for this kid.

"Well, whoever he is, I will admit it's sweet you're helping him," Morgana said, emphasizing the praise with a pat on his suit-jacket clad back.

Both girls left, Morgana sauntering through the door loaded with her shopping bags and Gwen following more demurely behind, giving Arthur and Merlin a little wave goodbye that made Arthur's heart twirl.

Arthur plopped himself onto the couch with a sigh. Morgana's and Gwen's visits always did seem to take a lot out of him, especially when they happened just after work.

"You're sister and Gwen are nice," Merlin said.

Arthur looked at the boy, rendered silent by a brief moment of shock. Merlin had talked, without any prompting. The kid was actually starting a conversation on his own terms.

Then Arthur realized what Merlin had just said and chuffed. "Yes, well, try being Morgana's brother, then you'd be singing a different tune. But, yes, about Gwen. She's very nice."

"You fancy her?" Merlin said. At Arthur's sharp look, Merlin quickly looked away, hunching a little. "Sorry. Sorry, it's just... she'd look at you when when we were talking. And you seemed to smile at her a lot..."

Arthur stared, bewildered, at Merlin. Sneaky, talkative, now far more observant than Arthur had given him credit for – wonders truly never did cease.

"We're not together, if that's what you think," Arthur said.

Merlin nodded, then rubbed the back of his neck while smiling tentatively. "Yeah. There would have been a bit of snogging if you were together, I think."

Which had Arthur burst out a good laugh. "Yeah, probably." If only.

"My dad – my real dad – would kiss my mum when he would get home. That's what I remember most about him," Merlin said.

"How old were you when he died?" Arthur asked, and realizing too late that it might not yet be a subject Merlin was willing to touch on.

But Merlin replied readily enough, "About five, I think. He was a doctor, was working late and fell asleep in his car while driving home."

Arthur could feel his features go soft with sympathy. "I'm sorry," he said.

Merlin shrugged, saying nothing for a moment, until he looked at Arthur with a small smile. "You should ask Gwen out."

"Oh, I should, should I?" Arthur said, grinning. "Fancy yourself a matchmaker or something?"

Merlin's bony shoulders bounced a second time, but he was smiling. Arthur found this slowly blossoming openness of Merlin's fascinating. It made Arthur suddenly realize how little he actually knew about Merlin, that behind the shield of fear and wariness was a personality that had nothing to do with everything he'd suffered. Arthur was, he realized, literally beginning to see the start of a whole other person.

"You should be with the one you want to be with, is all," Merlin said quietly. "If she's the one you want to be with."

Arthur felt his smile begin to slip. A thousand reasons as to why Arthur had never asked Gwen out filled his mind, pouring down to the tip of his tongue where it all waited to enlighten Merlin as to why being with the one you wanted wasn't always that easy. His father wouldn't approve of her, and like hell Arthur was going to put Gwen through the misery that was Uther's disapproval. Gwen deserved better than Arthur, and like hell Arthur was going to put Gwen through the misery that was having to put up with him. And on, and on.

"To enjoy every moment you have with them," Merlin went on absently.

Arthur felt irritation suddenly surge through him. Of course he wanted to spend every moment with Gwen, but it wasn't that simple. And here Merlin was, some kid off the streets, a complete stranger trying to fill him with all this pointless hope. Then Arthur looked at Merlin, the way his head kept bobbing and eyes attempted to slide shut. Arthur sighed, highly doubting the boy knew what he was even talking about.

"Merlin, you're knackered. Why don't you go lay down on my bed for a bit."

Merlin obeyed, setting his protein shake on the stand by the couch. Even Merlin's own clothes did little to free him of that little boy aura as he shuffled sleepily to Arthur's room, coughing wetly along the way.

Arthur's irritation was instantly forgotten as it often was when people brought up him and Gwen. Merlin doesn't know what he's talking about, Arthur reminded himself. But it made him wonder if Merlin was one of those obnoxiously optimistic types who believed true love trumped all. Because if he was, Arthur had to admire it. He couldn't begin to imagine living the life Merlin had and still be able to find room for hope.

Arthur was taken out of his thoughts by Gwaine walking in, returned home from a day of posing for the camera, possibly with gorgeous, half-dressed women hanging off him while doing so. It was confirmed by the crap-eating grin Gwaine was currently wearing. Then one look at the new curtains and Gwaine's smile about split his face.

"Another visit from your lovely sister. A shame I missed it."

"You mean a shame you missed Morgana," Arthur said, eyes narrowed.

Gwaine leaped onto the corner of the couch formerly occupied by Merlin. He grabbed Merlin's can of shake and shook it, listening for the amount of content still remaining. "Can I help it if I'm persistent?"

"Can you help it if you're pathetic and barking up the wrong tree? Which you are. Merlin drank out of that, by the way."

Gwaine, can halfway to his mouth, quickly set it aside. "So," he said jauntily. He waggled his eyebrows. "Was Gwen with her?"

Arthur groaned. "Not you too."

"What? I didn't say anything."

"Merlin did."

Gwaine's eyes widened. "Really? You mean he actually talks?"

"He does now. Look, Gwaine, I told you. Gwen and I it just... it wouldn't be easy on her, you know that."

"Actually, what I know is that for all your talk about daddy not dictating your life you're certainly letting him do quite a bit of dictating, even when he isn't here to dictate. You've yet to let him put a dent in your night life, why do you let him your love life?"

Arthur growled, dropping his head back against the couch. "I don't want to talk about this right now, Gwaine."

"Bit late for that but okay. You're choice if you want to live the rest of your life as a lonely, miserable miser woeing over what might have been-"

"Gwaine?"

"Yes?"

"Shut it."

Gwaine gave him an impudent salute. "Yes, oh capitan!" He graced Arthur with a moment of simpering smiles, then asked. "So, where's the little invalid gone off to?"

"You mean Merlin?"

"I do believe he's the only invalid at the moment."

"My room, sleeping."

Gwaine bobbed his head. "You know, we could put a second bed in my room. It's large enough, and it's not like I'm home enough to disturb him."

Arthur frowned a little at the suggestion, not out of disapproval but because the thought of actually getting Merlin a bed had never crossed his mind. Mostly because there had never been a reason. Even after... how many days was it, now, since he invited Merlin over? Well over nearly over two weeks, in point of fact; two weeks of Merlin staying here, and Arthur still maintained the impression of his presence being temporary.

Merlin, when not sleeping, coughing up a lung or zoning out because it was time for more rest, would sometimes be found on Arthur's home laptop, scouring for jobs. Arthur had once provided the suggestion of Merlin possibly contacting old employers. And Merlin had replied in that contrite, apologetic way of his that he didn't think it would do any good.

"I was never good at keeping a job," Merlin had said. "I was either always getting sick, or wasn't strong enough to lift things. They thought I was being useless, but I did try. I just..." he'd trailed off as if a part of him was unsure if it wasn't actually his own fault he'd gotten fired. Arthur had a pretty good idea that it wasn't Merlin's fault at all. People who stole money from their dad's wallets just to buy food couldn't exactly be accused of slacking off.

Arthur had told Merlin to take all the time he needed to find work, with the impression that work would eventually be found, Merlin would be making his own money and eventually be able to afford his own place.

But with Merlin's track record where luck was concerned, and what would be a less than stellar employment record, the best Merlin would be able to hope for in terms of lodging would be a small step up from sleeping next to a dumpster, and that was about it.

Arthur hadn't thought about it, believing there hadn't been a reason to think on it, but why couldn't Merlin stay here? He wouldn't have to contribute much to the rent, and what he did contribute would still be a cut in rent for Arthur and Gwaine. The boy already knew how to pull his own weight, and his presence wasn't even remotely imposing.

"True," Arthur said. He looked at Gwaine. "If you clear your room of that toxic gas you call free samples."

"Hey, some of those colognes cost more than you make in a week."

"And yet most of them smell like something thrown together in a chemical plant then left out in the sun to rot for a few days. Go back to modeling underwear. At least free samples of underwear are actually useful." Especially when Gwaine would make sure to bring home an extra pack for Arthur.

Gwaine lifted his hands as if to say 'what can you do?' What he could do was simple – go back to modeling underwear. The only reason he'd taken the cologne gig was because he'd be posing with female models.

"Fine, I'll get rid of the colognes. Except the Chanel. No one touches the Chanel," Gwaine said.

"Wouldn't dream of it," Arthur muttered.

~oOo~

"Destinies are troublesome things," Merlin said sagely. "You feel trapped, like your whole life is being planned out for you and you've got no control over anything, and sometimes you don't even know if what destiny decided is really the best thing at all."

"How come you're so knowledgeable?" Arthur asked.

"Hmm? Oh, I read a book."

"What would this book tell you? Should I marry her?"

"That's not really my place to say so."

"I'm asking you, it's your job to answer."

"If you really want to know what I think... I think you're mad, I think you're all mad. People should marry for love, not convenience. And if Uther thinks an unhappy king makes for a stronger kingdom, then he's wrong. 'Cause you may be destined to rule Camelot, but you have a choice...as to how you do it."

~oOo~

Arthur woke with a snort, his hand flailing in search of a clock that wasn't there. Right, he'd taken the couch, not wanting to interrupt what had looked like the best sleep Merlin had had since falling ill. Groggy and aching, Arthur rolled from the couch onto the carpeted floor and made his way to his room, until he remembered that it was the weekend and he didn't have to get up until he wanted to. Arthur turned, making his way out of the room back toward the couch.

Soft, pitiful whimpers stopped him. He turned to his bed currently occupied by Merlin, who was currently squirming in his sleep. Arthur could hear his breathing, not as wet as before but fast and frantic. Arthur saw the dark blob of Merlin's blanket-wrapped body curl tightly into itself, shudder then uncurl enough to flop briefly onto his back, Arthur's eyes adjusted enough to show him the rapid rise and fall of the skinny chest.

"No," Merlin said, small and plaintive. "No. S'pposed to take me. Nimueh..."

Arthur frowned, although far be it from him to try and interpret the rambling of dreams, especially the dreams of a kid who'd spent much of his life having his arse handed to him.

But then there it was again – that sense of wrongness, of witnessing something so out of place it made Arthur's stomach twist. Merlin curled so tightly he'd become little more than a ball of skin and bone, quivering and whimpering like a lost child, scared even in his sleep.

Arthur didn't have a clue as to what to do about it. Maybe ask Gaius about whatever medication Merlin was taking, see if there was an alternative that didn't cause him pointless night terrors, but that was only if the drugs were even to blame.

Merlin's next whimper sounded suspiciously like a sob.

Arthur had once heard that you should never wake someone who was having a nightmare. Or was that sleep walking? Like he remembered and like he cared. He went to Merlin, and placing a gentle hand on his shoulder, shook him.

"Merlin? Merlin, wake up, it's just a dream."

Rather than waking, Merlin curled tighter, shaking harder, as if bracing himself for something even more unpleasant than whatever he was dreaming about. Arthur sighed heavily.

"Oh, you poor kid," he muttered. He squeezed Merlin's shoulder. When he did, Merlin stopped shaking. When Arthur released him, it was only seconds later that Merlin resumed his trembling.

Arthur rolled his eyes. "Oh, you've got to be kidding me."

Arthur may not have grown up with a mother, but he'd had his Nan who'd known a thing or two about calming childhood nightmares. Arthur recalled quite clearly the many times he'd woken up in his Nan's lap, or with his Nan sitting next to him rubbing his back through some nightmare or fear of monsters. Arthur had no doubts Merlin's mother had probably done the same.

Except Merlin was no child and Arthur no one's bloody Nan or mum.

Neither could he seem to bring himself to leave Merlin to his dreams.

"Just for a moment," Arthur promised himself. "Until he calms down." Arthur went back into the living room, grabbed his blanket and wrapped himself in it as he settled upright in the bed next to Merlin – no sense in getting comfortable since he wasn't falling asleep. He didn't exactly look when he placed his hand on Merlin, hoping to aim for the shoulder but feeling the vivid bars of Merlin's ribcage instead. Arthur grimaced at the clarity of bone and the speed at which those bones expanded and contracted. He also felt Merlin's frantic heartbeat, the heat of his fever, the vibrations of his voice whenever he groaned and whimpered, his shaking, and Arthur found himself moving his hand back and forth the way his Nan would to rub his back, and prayed that Merlin didn't wake up or Gwaine walk in.

It did the job, though. Merlin eventually stilled, the whimpers and pleading fading into nothing, and Arthur felt the bones beneath his palm contract on a long, peaceful sigh.

Seeing as how it would be too soon to stop, Arthur kept rubbing and let his eyes close, just for a moment.

TBC...