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winterknightsTitle: The Badger and The Snake (It is a perfect fit)
Author/Artist:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
dianaprallon
Pairing(s): Arthur/Merlin
Prompt: 45
Word Count/Art Medium: 3,372
Rating: G
Contains (Highlight to view): Angst, Child abandonment
Disclaimer: Merlin characters are the property of Shine and BBC. No profit is being made, and no copyright infringement is intended.
Notes: All the thanks to my beta, that actively disliked Hogwarts!AUs and still checked his out for me. Any mistakes left are my own. Thanks Kitty for being this wonderful human being.
Summary Arthur’s used to spending Christmas away, he really is. But sometimes – sometimes – it makes him miss the home he no longer has.
On AO3
Christmas time used to be his favourite time of the year when he was young — it looked so magical, the fairy lights and presents under the tree, the waiting for Santa and always being surprised. Sometimes, snow would fall around the manor and he and Morgana would use snow balls to hit each other; and everything seemed to be well. If sometimes they went too high up, of if it always snowed on Christmas eve, no one really took notice; it was just how it was meant to be.
It hadn’t change from one day to the next, not really. Arthur remembered the general tension on Morgana’s eleventh birthday, the beautiful letter that had arrived with her name; the kind face of the woman sent to explain things to them — not, as he had eventually found out, that it needed explaining. He remembered shouting, and Morgana’s angry tears, and the stony look on his father’s face when they dropped her at the platform to catch the train to her school. Uther had told him Morgana had been in trouble one time too many at school, and would now attend a girl’s boarding school, that was the only place that would accept her with her track record. They hadn’t gone into King’s Cross with her.
Arthur had waited in vain for her return at the winter holidays, but there had been no sign of Morgana, and his father’s face was dark when he asked. She wouldn’t be coming home — not even in the summer. Arthur missed her like an aching limb that year; and the bright sunlight that followed didn’t seem to taste the same with her absence. He heard, as the staff whispered, about how Morgana had been sent to live with her older half-sister and would not be returning, how Uther had turned his back on his own daughter, and what reasons he could possibly have for it.
It didn’t take him that long to find out.
Arthur had remembered Gaius, he used to be a constant presence in his childhood before Morgana’s absence, and he hadn’t expected Uther’s paleness upon seeing a man that he was sure had been a friend; come to visit during the holiday season on the second year of her leaving. They had been preparing to celebrate Arthur’s birthday, and the man had brought him a present as well — a damned present as it were.
A beautiful letter, written in parchment and shining green ink, with a seal that looked older than their whole house.
Uther had pleaded, he had threatened, he had shouted, but it changed nothing. Gaius had been patient in explaining that it was for the best — that it was safer — that Arthur was a risk if left to his own devices and he knew he was some sort of monster.
Arthur shook his head — not a monster, no. Morgana would have his head if she even imagined that he thought about this.
Still, it hadn’t been easy; the tears in his father’s face and the disgust as he told Arthur, eleven years old and frightened, that he was dead to him.
Those were words he wouldn’t wish on his worst enemy, if he had one.
The six following months had been pure torture, a pariah in his own house. Arthur would sit and stare at his letter, imagining if he could have it all back it he only shredded it to pieces and told Uther he wished to stay. He hated the letter, the school he had never seen, Morgana and more than anybody, himself for this. He was ready to announce it all rubbish when his temper caused it to catch fire.
His heart raced in fear, and he knew he couldn’t just refuse. Imagine if this happened with something else — something he couldn’t easily put off. Could he honestly live with himself, not knowing how to control it? Endangering everyone around with his weird powers?
Still he had been completely sure that it would be for a short time: he would go, he would learn some control, he would give it all up and live his life as normal. He wasn’t about to be seduced by whatever silly notions those people held.
Arthur had been eleven years old, six months and three days when Gaius had returned, his old wrinkled face concerned as he picked him up and took him to London and even a person as stubborn as his could not, as an eleven-year-old boy, fail to be enchanted by the place they went. And in buying his wand (Cypress and dragon heartstring, fairly bending), he had met a small, scrawny, strange boy looking to buy his wand too.
Arthur didn’t know, back then, but it had been the beginning of a beautiful friendship.
It had been the most natural thing in the world to just talk to this boy, that acted as if he belonged to this world but knew as little as him. Merlin had been excited, eager, glad to have so many experiences. He had named Arthur's newly bought owl Cador with confidence, bemoaning that it wasn't a dog but would do and made him promise that, when Arthur bought a broom, he'd name it Llamrei - before mourning that it would be a horse, even better, a thestral (what those were, he hadn't known, and he doubted that even knowing it would have prepared him for the experience of walking right into one of them when climbing down of the train). After that, Merlin had wondered loudly about the possibility of seeing unicorns and the idea made him so excited that he had flailed, arms flapping and mouth open, legs weakening and he promptly stumbled towards the ground, taking all his bags with him and Arthur as well.
Merlin, he’d found, was prone to accidents. In the following year, Arthur would rescue him from many, and fail to avoid many more. It would also be often related to the magical creatures he loved so much. Indeed, Merlin was the only person Arthur knew that planned on keeping with the care of magical creatures after the NOMs.
They had sat together on the train, and Arthur had been sure Merlin's eyes were going to pop out in surprise when Morgana glided in and wrapped him in her arms before crying profusely. Arthur had missed her too, but Pendragon's didn't cry so he just patted her back awkwardly until she pulled away and started asking questions and giving her own answers at a mile per minute. It had taken a long while before Merlin admitted that he had been gobsmacked because Morgana was the prettiest girl he had ever seen. Sister or not, Arthur couldn't blame him. There was something alluring in the combination of pale skin, dark hair and bright eyes.
(But he would not allow himself to go there, it would be foolish and self-destructive).
Merlin insisted that, nowadays, he was so used to Morgana he barely saw her. Arthur pretended to believe it and looked away whenever he felt Merlin was about to stare. It was what good friends did, after all.
(It wasn't, in any way, to keep his own misery from showing and he'd challenge to a duel anyone who said otherwise).
(It didn't matter that he knew preciously little about duels either, he'd use his hands if the need came).
Arthur would also not admit to being crushed when the sorting hat sent them to different houses. But his heart had broken a little bit when the voice had announced his house (he was happy with the choice, from what he gathered, it was a good fit for him), because it meant that he wouldn’t have even the comfort of a friend with him. Sure, Hufflepuffs were supposed to be nice and friendly, and from one look he doubted he’d fit on Slytherin, but it hurt that he’d be separated from both Merlin and Morgana when they would be able to spend time together. Five years later, this seemed like a stupid, stupid, stupid idea.
Nothing could have separated them, not the different schedules (not so different, in the end), not the separated tables (especially when Hufflepuff was always ready to accept someone new at their table, when no one in Slytherin dared to contradict Morgana when she pulled him to sit next to them), not anything. Merlin was always there for him, and Arthur tried to do the same, even though he knew he never really managed to repay equally. Because more and beyond than simply being a friend and working together on homework at the library, getting lost together in the castle that had way too many stairs and moving walls and corridors being refurbished, areas being rebuilt; Merlin had also offered Arthur his family.
Had it been a perfect family, Arthur would probably have been uncomfortable and far too reminded of it was the opposite of his; but it wasn’t. Merlin’s father had disappeared for long, most of his life, and only learnt of his existence after he was already at Hogwarts. Hunith had raised him alone, and it was clear that she took a special joy in having another boy trust in her care. Once she had confided him that, as a girl, she had dreamed of a big family — but it was not to be. Her relationship with Balinor was… Weird. He would come and visit, during the summer — as Arthur did, officially he now lived with Morgana and Morgause, but he had never met Morgause before being trusted into her care, not even a blood relation, and it made him feel like a charity case in a way that Hunith never allowed him to — but spent very little time there. Mostly, he slept on the couch and tried to help with homework. He was a silent, quiet man, but not in the way Uther had been, but as if he had forgotten how to be happy.
Merlin had stopped him from drowning in this same sea when he decided to become his best friend, whatever the cost. And, in spite of Merlin’s accident prone nature, he knew his ability to get himself into trouble (big, insane, scary trouble) was way worse. Professor McGonagall seemed perpetually exasperated with him and detentions were far too common. Professor Sprout had once muttered she had never seen so much ability to to get into fights out of Gryffindor, and he felt mildly guilty when she had announced, earlier that year, that she was done with it and about to retire.
Even with all this, even with the white snow falling down and blanketing the grounds, even knowing that in the morning Morgana would invade his dorm and wake him up in the most cruel way possible, even with them opening gifts together in front of the fireplace and with the banquet that would come; in Christmas Eve night Arthur felt sad and alone. It had been years, and it was always the same, and he hardly ever thought of Uther anymore (why bring even more pain into his life?), but when the night before Christmas arrived, he felt lonely. He pictured his father alone and abandoned in his house, the servants gone, and a glass of brandy as he considered how he had failed so spectacularly that both his children had ended up as magical.
In the morning, all would be gone — but during the twilight hours, he stared outside and felt the hole in his chest that had been left by the absence of his dad. A hole that he usually filled with his friends: Merlin and Gwen, Leon and Lancelot, Gwaine and Elyan and Percival and Elena; Mithian and even little Mordred. Most of the year, he could forget, their maladjusted and makeshift family, spanning across houses. When they were all gone and Morgana had left for her own dorm and bed, there was nothing to stop the sense of loss that took hold of him.
Arthur laid down, and got ready to sleep. He stared at the ceiling of his poster bed for a long while, eyes closing to the bright yellow curtains. He wished the morning to come and for it all to go away as his eyes dropped close.
He woke up to a sound in the darkness, a deep thud and a yelp. He sat immediately, alert and worried — no one else was supposed to be around, but maybe one of the two other people in the house had entered the wrong door? He didn’t dare to move, his heart beating fast, and he couldn’t help but yell as his curtains were yanked open. Merlin stood on the other side, hair completely messed up and his eyes squinting at the sudden brightness around him, coming from Arthur’s wand. He shook his head, gesturing it away, but Arthur couldn’t move in his surprise.
“Scoot over” Merlin said, climbing next to him and Arthur could only blink.
“What are you doing here?”
There was a strange softness in his voice when he replied.
“I didn’t want you to feel that you were alone” he answered, earnestly. “Now, off with the light, you prat.”
“Nox” Arthur muttered, and darkness enveloped them. Merlin curled himself on the bed, and Arthur laid back down, trying to organise his feelings.
“You were supposed to be home” he said, his voice accusing. “Hunith…”
“Mom’s visiting dad in Romania — but I…” Merlin mumbled pulling up the sheets. “I decided I’d rather not stay there. They’re getting cosy with each other again.” Arthur could feel his frown even without seeing. “So I decided to come back and stay with you.”
“You shouldn’t have” he said, trying to be sensible. “I’m not alone — Morgana’s here too, and…”
“I wanted to” Merlin said, pulling Arthur closer, like a magical octopus, legs around his, and he was sure this wasn’t supposed to feel so comfortable. “So I came back.”
“How…” he started, and Merlin shifted his head, closer to his ear.
“Floo. Now, will you be quiet? It’s late, and I’ve had a long day. I’m trying to sleep here.”
Arthur huffed.
“Should’ve gone to your own bed, then.”
“Yours is warmer” Merlin replied, and his voice was heavy with sleep. “Now, shh.”
Merlin fell asleep almost immediately, but Arthur’s heart was beating fast, his whole body tense. They had always been affectionate, but recently — well, things had changed for Arthur, it wasn’t — as much as he didn’t want to let his mind go there, as much as he wanted to pretend otherwise, he didn’t feel about Merlin the way he used to. There was something — longing — in him for more, for things… He shouldn’t even think. The warmth of his body draped around Arthur’s was a slow torture, his breath against Arthur’s head made him ticklish and brought shivers to his spine. He could feel his friend’s heartbeat against his body and count the time through his breaths.
Eventually, sleep came — warm, comfortable, resting sleep.
Arthur blinked to wakefulness earlier than usual — it confused him. He needed a moment to understand the weight against his back, and turned slowly to face Merlin’s face, still sort of sleeping, next to him. Behind Merlin’s body, he could see a small crack of the curtains open. Clearly Merlin hadn’t been careful when he closed it back. He knew he should get up, he knew soon his sister would arrive, but it was warm and comfortable and so right to just lay there next to Merlin.
He drank in the sight of his dark eyelashes against his sharp cheekbones, the messy hair and his full mouth half-open. There was so much peace in his expression and something else that brought a pang to Arthur’s heart and a wave of heat to his belly. This, naturally, was the exact moment Merlin chose to wake up, his blue eyes still filled with sleepiness.
“Hey” he muttered, bringing his hand to rub his eye.
“You didn’t close the curtains properly” Arthur answered, and he knew it was rude, but he couldn’t just ignore it.
“Morning to you too, you prat” he said, with a chuckle. “I come back here in the middle of the night to…”
“You’re a good friend” Arthur cut him, and he ignored the blush rising in Merlin’s face at it. “More than I deserve.”
“Oh, Arthur…” Merlin whispered, leaning in and resting his forehead against his. “Oh, Arthur, if you only knew…”
Arthur could never explain what exactly went through his head in that moment. Maybe it was the feeling of Merlin’s breath against his cheek, of the way he closed his eyes to languidly, or how his scent had filled his nostrils, of even the way he softly licked his lips. The reasons mattered not, only the result as his impulsiveness took hold of him and he pushed his face forward, touching Merlin’s lips with his.
It was not much of a kiss — more of a caress, really, as he his heart stopped and he heard Merlin’s breath hitching. Arthur pulled away, guilty and confused, but brave enough to meet Merlin’s eyes and face the consequences of his actions.
Merlin’s face was a mask of shock at first, before he shook his head minutely and held Arthur’s head with his left hand, pulling him back in and kissing him back.
It was a proper kiss this time; a complete pressure, and mouths opening to one another as Arthur’s lips rubbed against Merlin’s; their tongues meeting. There was no finesse, and Arthur had never truly kissed anyone before, not like this, not wanting to; his pulse speeding and his hands searching frantically for Merlin’s body, pulling him closer, threading through his hair. The logical part of his mind reminded him that they hadn’t brushed their teeth, but he couldn’t even taste anything but Merlin, Merlin, Merlin, trembling hands and firm lips. They kissed as if the world was ending, and not just waking up to Christmas day.
They parted only when they couldn’t breathe anymore.
“Merry Christmas” Merlin said, his voice hoarse, but there was a silly grin on his lips.
“Merry Christmas” Arthur answered, not caring the slightest that he probably looked equally sickly in love.
Because this was it — the thing he hadn’t wanted to name — he was in love with his best friend of years and hadn’t wanted to see it, fearing rejection so much he had been blind to the fact that it meant also not even trying to be happy. He dived in for another kiss, not wanting the moment to end, because if it might be his last chance — his only chance — he would take it, and have it, and kiss Merlin’s lips and hold his body, and enjoy the butterflies that seemed to have made permanent residence in his stomach because nothing else could possibly matter.
He drank Merlin’s small moan, and licked into his sigh, and thoroughly enjoyed the way he pulled at Arthur’s hair, kissing him thoroughly, equally, totally and with abandon and as if nothing else mattered; and right now, nothing else did; because nothing else existed but the two of them, intertwined in Arthur’s bed as the snow fell outside, slowly covering the windows.
It shouldn’t be a surprise that they were deaf to the sounds outside, or that they didn’t hear the pull of the curtain, or noticed the growing light.
“Fucking finally!” Morgana’s voice rang, pulling them apart. “We were already starting to devise plans to lock you inside a broom closet to see if you got a hint!”
Arthur had never hated her more, but Merlin’s face was so shocked and beet red, and Morgana was smirking, Gwen giggling by her side and he couldn’t help but laugh, filled, happy, at peace while the two girls walked away. He allowed himself to fall back down to his bed and stole another kiss from Merlin’s gaping mouth before jumping out of bed and offering his hand to him.
“Come on — presents await.”
And as Merlin grabbed his hand and came out, beaming at him as if he had hung the moon, Arthur knew he would never have to feel alone again on Christmas Eve.
Author/Artist:
dianaprallonPairing(s): Arthur/Merlin
Prompt: 45
Word Count/Art Medium: 3,372
Rating: G
Contains (Highlight to view): Angst, Child abandonment
Disclaimer: Merlin characters are the property of Shine and BBC. No profit is being made, and no copyright infringement is intended.
Notes: All the thanks to my beta, that actively disliked Hogwarts!AUs and still checked his out for me. Any mistakes left are my own. Thanks Kitty for being this wonderful human being.
Summary Arthur’s used to spending Christmas away, he really is. But sometimes – sometimes – it makes him miss the home he no longer has.
On AO3
Christmas time used to be his favourite time of the year when he was young — it looked so magical, the fairy lights and presents under the tree, the waiting for Santa and always being surprised. Sometimes, snow would fall around the manor and he and Morgana would use snow balls to hit each other; and everything seemed to be well. If sometimes they went too high up, of if it always snowed on Christmas eve, no one really took notice; it was just how it was meant to be.
It hadn’t change from one day to the next, not really. Arthur remembered the general tension on Morgana’s eleventh birthday, the beautiful letter that had arrived with her name; the kind face of the woman sent to explain things to them — not, as he had eventually found out, that it needed explaining. He remembered shouting, and Morgana’s angry tears, and the stony look on his father’s face when they dropped her at the platform to catch the train to her school. Uther had told him Morgana had been in trouble one time too many at school, and would now attend a girl’s boarding school, that was the only place that would accept her with her track record. They hadn’t gone into King’s Cross with her.
Arthur had waited in vain for her return at the winter holidays, but there had been no sign of Morgana, and his father’s face was dark when he asked. She wouldn’t be coming home — not even in the summer. Arthur missed her like an aching limb that year; and the bright sunlight that followed didn’t seem to taste the same with her absence. He heard, as the staff whispered, about how Morgana had been sent to live with her older half-sister and would not be returning, how Uther had turned his back on his own daughter, and what reasons he could possibly have for it.
It didn’t take him that long to find out.
Arthur had remembered Gaius, he used to be a constant presence in his childhood before Morgana’s absence, and he hadn’t expected Uther’s paleness upon seeing a man that he was sure had been a friend; come to visit during the holiday season on the second year of her leaving. They had been preparing to celebrate Arthur’s birthday, and the man had brought him a present as well — a damned present as it were.
A beautiful letter, written in parchment and shining green ink, with a seal that looked older than their whole house.
Uther had pleaded, he had threatened, he had shouted, but it changed nothing. Gaius had been patient in explaining that it was for the best — that it was safer — that Arthur was a risk if left to his own devices and he knew he was some sort of monster.
Arthur shook his head — not a monster, no. Morgana would have his head if she even imagined that he thought about this.
Still, it hadn’t been easy; the tears in his father’s face and the disgust as he told Arthur, eleven years old and frightened, that he was dead to him.
Those were words he wouldn’t wish on his worst enemy, if he had one.
The six following months had been pure torture, a pariah in his own house. Arthur would sit and stare at his letter, imagining if he could have it all back it he only shredded it to pieces and told Uther he wished to stay. He hated the letter, the school he had never seen, Morgana and more than anybody, himself for this. He was ready to announce it all rubbish when his temper caused it to catch fire.
His heart raced in fear, and he knew he couldn’t just refuse. Imagine if this happened with something else — something he couldn’t easily put off. Could he honestly live with himself, not knowing how to control it? Endangering everyone around with his weird powers?
Still he had been completely sure that it would be for a short time: he would go, he would learn some control, he would give it all up and live his life as normal. He wasn’t about to be seduced by whatever silly notions those people held.
Arthur had been eleven years old, six months and three days when Gaius had returned, his old wrinkled face concerned as he picked him up and took him to London and even a person as stubborn as his could not, as an eleven-year-old boy, fail to be enchanted by the place they went. And in buying his wand (Cypress and dragon heartstring, fairly bending), he had met a small, scrawny, strange boy looking to buy his wand too.
Arthur didn’t know, back then, but it had been the beginning of a beautiful friendship.
It had been the most natural thing in the world to just talk to this boy, that acted as if he belonged to this world but knew as little as him. Merlin had been excited, eager, glad to have so many experiences. He had named Arthur's newly bought owl Cador with confidence, bemoaning that it wasn't a dog but would do and made him promise that, when Arthur bought a broom, he'd name it Llamrei - before mourning that it would be a horse, even better, a thestral (what those were, he hadn't known, and he doubted that even knowing it would have prepared him for the experience of walking right into one of them when climbing down of the train). After that, Merlin had wondered loudly about the possibility of seeing unicorns and the idea made him so excited that he had flailed, arms flapping and mouth open, legs weakening and he promptly stumbled towards the ground, taking all his bags with him and Arthur as well.
Merlin, he’d found, was prone to accidents. In the following year, Arthur would rescue him from many, and fail to avoid many more. It would also be often related to the magical creatures he loved so much. Indeed, Merlin was the only person Arthur knew that planned on keeping with the care of magical creatures after the NOMs.
They had sat together on the train, and Arthur had been sure Merlin's eyes were going to pop out in surprise when Morgana glided in and wrapped him in her arms before crying profusely. Arthur had missed her too, but Pendragon's didn't cry so he just patted her back awkwardly until she pulled away and started asking questions and giving her own answers at a mile per minute. It had taken a long while before Merlin admitted that he had been gobsmacked because Morgana was the prettiest girl he had ever seen. Sister or not, Arthur couldn't blame him. There was something alluring in the combination of pale skin, dark hair and bright eyes.
(But he would not allow himself to go there, it would be foolish and self-destructive).
Merlin insisted that, nowadays, he was so used to Morgana he barely saw her. Arthur pretended to believe it and looked away whenever he felt Merlin was about to stare. It was what good friends did, after all.
(It wasn't, in any way, to keep his own misery from showing and he'd challenge to a duel anyone who said otherwise).
(It didn't matter that he knew preciously little about duels either, he'd use his hands if the need came).
Arthur would also not admit to being crushed when the sorting hat sent them to different houses. But his heart had broken a little bit when the voice had announced his house (he was happy with the choice, from what he gathered, it was a good fit for him), because it meant that he wouldn’t have even the comfort of a friend with him. Sure, Hufflepuffs were supposed to be nice and friendly, and from one look he doubted he’d fit on Slytherin, but it hurt that he’d be separated from both Merlin and Morgana when they would be able to spend time together. Five years later, this seemed like a stupid, stupid, stupid idea.
Nothing could have separated them, not the different schedules (not so different, in the end), not the separated tables (especially when Hufflepuff was always ready to accept someone new at their table, when no one in Slytherin dared to contradict Morgana when she pulled him to sit next to them), not anything. Merlin was always there for him, and Arthur tried to do the same, even though he knew he never really managed to repay equally. Because more and beyond than simply being a friend and working together on homework at the library, getting lost together in the castle that had way too many stairs and moving walls and corridors being refurbished, areas being rebuilt; Merlin had also offered Arthur his family.
Had it been a perfect family, Arthur would probably have been uncomfortable and far too reminded of it was the opposite of his; but it wasn’t. Merlin’s father had disappeared for long, most of his life, and only learnt of his existence after he was already at Hogwarts. Hunith had raised him alone, and it was clear that she took a special joy in having another boy trust in her care. Once she had confided him that, as a girl, she had dreamed of a big family — but it was not to be. Her relationship with Balinor was… Weird. He would come and visit, during the summer — as Arthur did, officially he now lived with Morgana and Morgause, but he had never met Morgause before being trusted into her care, not even a blood relation, and it made him feel like a charity case in a way that Hunith never allowed him to — but spent very little time there. Mostly, he slept on the couch and tried to help with homework. He was a silent, quiet man, but not in the way Uther had been, but as if he had forgotten how to be happy.
Merlin had stopped him from drowning in this same sea when he decided to become his best friend, whatever the cost. And, in spite of Merlin’s accident prone nature, he knew his ability to get himself into trouble (big, insane, scary trouble) was way worse. Professor McGonagall seemed perpetually exasperated with him and detentions were far too common. Professor Sprout had once muttered she had never seen so much ability to to get into fights out of Gryffindor, and he felt mildly guilty when she had announced, earlier that year, that she was done with it and about to retire.
Even with all this, even with the white snow falling down and blanketing the grounds, even knowing that in the morning Morgana would invade his dorm and wake him up in the most cruel way possible, even with them opening gifts together in front of the fireplace and with the banquet that would come; in Christmas Eve night Arthur felt sad and alone. It had been years, and it was always the same, and he hardly ever thought of Uther anymore (why bring even more pain into his life?), but when the night before Christmas arrived, he felt lonely. He pictured his father alone and abandoned in his house, the servants gone, and a glass of brandy as he considered how he had failed so spectacularly that both his children had ended up as magical.
In the morning, all would be gone — but during the twilight hours, he stared outside and felt the hole in his chest that had been left by the absence of his dad. A hole that he usually filled with his friends: Merlin and Gwen, Leon and Lancelot, Gwaine and Elyan and Percival and Elena; Mithian and even little Mordred. Most of the year, he could forget, their maladjusted and makeshift family, spanning across houses. When they were all gone and Morgana had left for her own dorm and bed, there was nothing to stop the sense of loss that took hold of him.
Arthur laid down, and got ready to sleep. He stared at the ceiling of his poster bed for a long while, eyes closing to the bright yellow curtains. He wished the morning to come and for it all to go away as his eyes dropped close.
He woke up to a sound in the darkness, a deep thud and a yelp. He sat immediately, alert and worried — no one else was supposed to be around, but maybe one of the two other people in the house had entered the wrong door? He didn’t dare to move, his heart beating fast, and he couldn’t help but yell as his curtains were yanked open. Merlin stood on the other side, hair completely messed up and his eyes squinting at the sudden brightness around him, coming from Arthur’s wand. He shook his head, gesturing it away, but Arthur couldn’t move in his surprise.
“Scoot over” Merlin said, climbing next to him and Arthur could only blink.
“What are you doing here?”
There was a strange softness in his voice when he replied.
“I didn’t want you to feel that you were alone” he answered, earnestly. “Now, off with the light, you prat.”
“Nox” Arthur muttered, and darkness enveloped them. Merlin curled himself on the bed, and Arthur laid back down, trying to organise his feelings.
“You were supposed to be home” he said, his voice accusing. “Hunith…”
“Mom’s visiting dad in Romania — but I…” Merlin mumbled pulling up the sheets. “I decided I’d rather not stay there. They’re getting cosy with each other again.” Arthur could feel his frown even without seeing. “So I decided to come back and stay with you.”
“You shouldn’t have” he said, trying to be sensible. “I’m not alone — Morgana’s here too, and…”
“I wanted to” Merlin said, pulling Arthur closer, like a magical octopus, legs around his, and he was sure this wasn’t supposed to feel so comfortable. “So I came back.”
“How…” he started, and Merlin shifted his head, closer to his ear.
“Floo. Now, will you be quiet? It’s late, and I’ve had a long day. I’m trying to sleep here.”
Arthur huffed.
“Should’ve gone to your own bed, then.”
“Yours is warmer” Merlin replied, and his voice was heavy with sleep. “Now, shh.”
Merlin fell asleep almost immediately, but Arthur’s heart was beating fast, his whole body tense. They had always been affectionate, but recently — well, things had changed for Arthur, it wasn’t — as much as he didn’t want to let his mind go there, as much as he wanted to pretend otherwise, he didn’t feel about Merlin the way he used to. There was something — longing — in him for more, for things… He shouldn’t even think. The warmth of his body draped around Arthur’s was a slow torture, his breath against Arthur’s head made him ticklish and brought shivers to his spine. He could feel his friend’s heartbeat against his body and count the time through his breaths.
Eventually, sleep came — warm, comfortable, resting sleep.
Arthur blinked to wakefulness earlier than usual — it confused him. He needed a moment to understand the weight against his back, and turned slowly to face Merlin’s face, still sort of sleeping, next to him. Behind Merlin’s body, he could see a small crack of the curtains open. Clearly Merlin hadn’t been careful when he closed it back. He knew he should get up, he knew soon his sister would arrive, but it was warm and comfortable and so right to just lay there next to Merlin.
He drank in the sight of his dark eyelashes against his sharp cheekbones, the messy hair and his full mouth half-open. There was so much peace in his expression and something else that brought a pang to Arthur’s heart and a wave of heat to his belly. This, naturally, was the exact moment Merlin chose to wake up, his blue eyes still filled with sleepiness.
“Hey” he muttered, bringing his hand to rub his eye.
“You didn’t close the curtains properly” Arthur answered, and he knew it was rude, but he couldn’t just ignore it.
“Morning to you too, you prat” he said, with a chuckle. “I come back here in the middle of the night to…”
“You’re a good friend” Arthur cut him, and he ignored the blush rising in Merlin’s face at it. “More than I deserve.”
“Oh, Arthur…” Merlin whispered, leaning in and resting his forehead against his. “Oh, Arthur, if you only knew…”
Arthur could never explain what exactly went through his head in that moment. Maybe it was the feeling of Merlin’s breath against his cheek, of the way he closed his eyes to languidly, or how his scent had filled his nostrils, of even the way he softly licked his lips. The reasons mattered not, only the result as his impulsiveness took hold of him and he pushed his face forward, touching Merlin’s lips with his.
It was not much of a kiss — more of a caress, really, as he his heart stopped and he heard Merlin’s breath hitching. Arthur pulled away, guilty and confused, but brave enough to meet Merlin’s eyes and face the consequences of his actions.
Merlin’s face was a mask of shock at first, before he shook his head minutely and held Arthur’s head with his left hand, pulling him back in and kissing him back.
It was a proper kiss this time; a complete pressure, and mouths opening to one another as Arthur’s lips rubbed against Merlin’s; their tongues meeting. There was no finesse, and Arthur had never truly kissed anyone before, not like this, not wanting to; his pulse speeding and his hands searching frantically for Merlin’s body, pulling him closer, threading through his hair. The logical part of his mind reminded him that they hadn’t brushed their teeth, but he couldn’t even taste anything but Merlin, Merlin, Merlin, trembling hands and firm lips. They kissed as if the world was ending, and not just waking up to Christmas day.
They parted only when they couldn’t breathe anymore.
“Merry Christmas” Merlin said, his voice hoarse, but there was a silly grin on his lips.
“Merry Christmas” Arthur answered, not caring the slightest that he probably looked equally sickly in love.
Because this was it — the thing he hadn’t wanted to name — he was in love with his best friend of years and hadn’t wanted to see it, fearing rejection so much he had been blind to the fact that it meant also not even trying to be happy. He dived in for another kiss, not wanting the moment to end, because if it might be his last chance — his only chance — he would take it, and have it, and kiss Merlin’s lips and hold his body, and enjoy the butterflies that seemed to have made permanent residence in his stomach because nothing else could possibly matter.
He drank Merlin’s small moan, and licked into his sigh, and thoroughly enjoyed the way he pulled at Arthur’s hair, kissing him thoroughly, equally, totally and with abandon and as if nothing else mattered; and right now, nothing else did; because nothing else existed but the two of them, intertwined in Arthur’s bed as the snow fell outside, slowly covering the windows.
It shouldn’t be a surprise that they were deaf to the sounds outside, or that they didn’t hear the pull of the curtain, or noticed the growing light.
“Fucking finally!” Morgana’s voice rang, pulling them apart. “We were already starting to devise plans to lock you inside a broom closet to see if you got a hint!”
Arthur had never hated her more, but Merlin’s face was so shocked and beet red, and Morgana was smirking, Gwen giggling by her side and he couldn’t help but laugh, filled, happy, at peace while the two girls walked away. He allowed himself to fall back down to his bed and stole another kiss from Merlin’s gaping mouth before jumping out of bed and offering his hand to him.
“Come on — presents await.”
And as Merlin grabbed his hand and came out, beaming at him as if he had hung the moon, Arthur knew he would never have to feel alone again on Christmas Eve.
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