FIC: there's no place like bed for the holiday (Merlin/Arthur, G)

[winter-mod.livejournal.com]

Title: there's no place like bed for the holiday
Pairing(s): Merthur
Prompt: A gets sick a day before (winter holiday) and can't go home, so B cancels all their plans and stays with them to make sure they get better. they end up celebrating the holiday together!
Word Count: 5501
Rating: G
Contains (Highlight to view): *none*
Disclaimer: Merlin characters are the property of Shine and BBC. No profit is being made, and no copyright infringement is intended.
Notes:
Summary It's almost Christmas and Merlin is sick. Arthur can't stand the thought of spending the holiday alone, obviously because he's sick and for no other reason.

Maybe a little Christmas magic can get Arthur to admit his feelings, instead of continuing to pine over his roommate.

Link to work on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27870214

Ever since Arthur went away for college a few years ago, his very favorite time of the year has been the holidays. Despite everything else in their lives having changed, it’s the one time when Arthur, his father, his step-mother and his step-sister Morgana could come together with some of the people nearest and dearest to them, just like when they were still living at home.

He doesn’t get to see them nearly enough these days, mostly just for the holidays. As much as his father has always known how to push his buttons and make sure that his life is on track, he still wouldn’t trade the memories of their shared holidays together; somehow those burdens and worries disappear.

The week between Christmas and New Years has always been special for them, one of the few traditions that the Pendragon clan has that Arthur doesn’t utterly despise. Uther always rents a roomy cottage at the ski resort, the same one now as in the Christmases past. Just like in the days from Arthur’s childhood. It was the one time of the year that he truly connected with the boy that used to be, before everything in his life changed.

___________________________________________

“So, when does your flight take off?” Merlin asks from his spot on the couch, glancing up at Arthur.

There’s less than a week until Christmas and all of the preparations have been made. Arthur’s halfway through packing when he glances up at Merlin. “Flight goes out on the 23rd, that way I’ll be skiing the slopes before Christmas Eve,” Arthur remarks.

Merlin laughs, stretching his legs out on the couch as he mindlessly browses the app on the television. “That must be quite the sight. You don’t really… strike me as a skier.”

“Oh, I’ll strike you, alright,” Arthur mutters with a roll of his eyes, abandoning his half-packed suitcase, and dropping down beside Merlin on the couch. “Tell me why it is that you’re utterly incapable of choosing something to watch on television.”

“I’m not incapable.”

Arthur smirks knowingly before wrestling the remote from him. “Don’t worry, I’ve got your back,” he says, gaze lingering on Merlin for a second longer than it should. His eyes flicker up to the TV, scrolling through Netflix.

“Wow, Arthur, you’re my hero, really,” Merlin deadpans.

Arthur opens his mouth as if he wants to say something, but the words abandon him. Instead, he watches Merlin again before he reminds himself to look away, clearing his throat. “What about this one, it’s—”

“Have you watched it already?”

“Yes, but I—”

“Then the answer is no, Arthur. We aren’t watching anything together that you’ve already seen by yourself,” Merlin tells him plainly. Arthur drops his jaw open slightly as he prepares for an argument when Merlin continues, “your excitement is great, really, but you ruined The Old Guard for me, because you don’t know how to just shut up and watch it. You feel the need to share your running commentary throughout the entire film and then ruin the ending for me.”

“Fine,” Arthur sulks, “but that was one time, and you should really let it go. But, if you insist we’ll watch something that I haven’t seen before since you’re such a blubbering baby.”

“I do insist.” Merlin bumps Arthur’s arm with his own. “Pick anything you haven’t watched already.”

Arthur scrolls through the Top Ten on Netflix, scouring for anything he hasn’t seen before and then clicks on one silently as he allows it to load. He tries to ignore the warmth radiating from his arm, a lingering phantom touch from where Merlin’s arm was only moments before.

He touched him platonically, Arthur reminds himself.

They’re roommates, and Merlin obviously isn’t interested in anything more with him. And who’s Arthur kidding, anyway? There’s no way that he’s interested in his annoying roommate, Merlin.

Arthur needs to get away for the holidays, to take the time to get his head screwed back on straight. This is exactly the kind of distraction that he doesn’t need in his life. And continuing to pine over his roommate when he’s literally nothing like the guys that Arthur’s been with in the past is doing nothing for him.

They have nothing in common. All that they have the ability to do together is to bicker.

Still, as Dangerous Lies begins playing, he can’t stop himself from watching Merlin, utterly unfocused on the movie.

___________________________________________

Arthur grumbles as he makes his way out to the kitchen, noticing how dark it still is the instant that he stubs his toe on the end table. “Damnit, Merlin, did you forget to leave the light on again?” he hisses, hobbling over to the light and flipping it on.

Usually Merlin is the first one up since he’s usually picking up an early shift at the cafe. Work aside, Merlin is still typically much more of a morning person than Arthur is. But, as he prepares for his trip to Killington with his family for the holidays, he’s been trying to be more of a morning person so that he doesn’t quite literally bite Morgana’s head off for waking him up before nine. So far it’s been an utter fail. Merlin on the other hand, is a morning person down to his very core and it’s quite honestly disgusting.

Merlin needs to work a part-time job so that he can afford to stay off-campus with Arthur, instead of in the terrible on-campus housing that he’d been living in before. He helps his mom out since she lost her job a few months ago and although Arthur will never admit it to Merlin, that drive to help the people that he cares about no matter the sacrifice is one of the things that he admires about him the most.

So, when he stumbles out into darkness and there isn’t even a pot of coffee brewed, Arthur’s face contorts in confusion as he glances around. It’s when he sees Merlin’s keys still hung neatly on the key hook that he begins to wonder if everything is alright. Arthur walks back down the hallway, rapping on the door. “Merlin? Are you in there? You have a shift this morning at the cafe.”

Arthur hears a sound on the other side of the door and Merlin sounds…almost pained. “Merlin?”

“Go ‘way,” Merlin grumbles miserably from inside of the room.

Arthur has a bunch of last minute things that he needs to take care of today, including finding presents for his family, but instead, he finds himself giving a soft warning. “I’m coming in, Merlin.” When Arthur pushes the door open, Merlin’s usually tidy room is in disarray, looking as if it’s been ransacked, his blankets piled in a messy heap on top of the bed. “Are you… sick?”

“No, Ar’hur,” Merlin manages, though his words are muffled with obvious congestion. “I decide’ to make a blanket fort.”

In the year-and-a-half that he’s been sharing a place with Merlin, he’s never once seen him sick. It's become a running joke that he isn’t actually capable of getting sick, somehow obtaining complete immunity. He thinks of the numerous runs to the pharmacy and grocery store that Merlin has made for him in the past, and he frowns down at him instantly. “Do you have a fever?” he asks, leaning his shoulder against the doorjamb.

“Do I look like I’m a thermometer?”

Arthur presses his lips together in a tight line, doing his best to bite back his immediate response. “Guess it’s a good thing for us all that you aren’t sick very often,” he mutters. Despite the sarcasm, Arthur pushes away from the doorjamb and moves closer to the human heap on the bed. He watches Merlin as he breathes through his mouth, obviously unable to breathe through his nose, a flush coloring his cheeks.

“I’ll b’ fine. Jus’ go,” Merlin grumbles, his words slurring together.

Arthur rolls his eyes as Merlin turns over onto his side, facing his back to Arthur. He stands there wordlessly for a minute, staring at Merlin’s back. Finally, he slips back into the hallway and closes Merlin’s door almost completely behind him, leaving it slightly ajar.

Ignoring the last of the errands that he needs to handle before his flight in the morning, Arthur instead busies himself with taking a trip to the grocery store. When he returns it’s with an armload of groceries: medicine, Gatorade, Ginger Ale, tissues, and everything that he needs for a homemade chicken soup.

Sliding the paper grocery bags onto the kitchen island, he tosses his keys mindlessly onto the counter. He switches the kitchen light on before walking down the hallway to where Merlin’s door remains ajar, poking his head inside to check on him.

He expects that Merlin’s going to be sleeping when he steps inside, but instead finds Merlin looking even more sickly; his eyes are glassy, his nose bright red, and he's breathing loudly through his mouth.

“Well, don’t you look like a picture of health,” Arthur quips, even though his words are light, his lips aren’t curled up in their usual telltale sign of amusement, his eyes are soft with concern.

“Di’ you come in here jus’ to gloat tha’ I’m finally sick?” Merlin asks, and if it's possible, he looks even more miserable in that moment.

“Obviously, why else would I be here?” Turning his back to Merlin, Arthur begins to make his way towards the doorway. Arthur wants to urge him, to remind him to take care of himself. Yet, somehow, instead of words of genuine concern all that he’s capable of is making quips or sarcastic jokes, deflecting his real feelings and worry for Merlin.

For fear of what that honesty could do to his friendship with Merlin; of what letting the depth of his true feelings show could do, and what it could destroy.

The only genuine friendship that Arthur’s ever had.

“You really are an ass, you know,” Merlin’s breath is haggard, his voice almost a wheeze. Despite the sickly tone, Arthur doesn’t have to turn around to know that Merlin is glaring at him.

___________________________________________

Arthur leaves Merlin alone for a while. Unfortunately, it seems like Merlin isn’t all that concerned with making himself more comfortable while he suffers through this. His answer to everything is that he’s fine, it’s just a cold.

Only, it’s not just a cold, no matter how adamantly Merlin tells him it is, pushing him further and further away the sicker that he gets.

The thing is, even while Merlin is sick—especially while he’s sick—Arthur feels the all-consuming need to take care of him, to make sure that he’s cared for.

And Arthur, he’s not sure what to do with that feeling.

___________________________________________

He spends the better part of the afternoon trying to recreate a recipe that he’s only seen his aunt make in the past. Sure, Arthur’s eaten it dozens of times, usually from the comfort of his own bed while he’s been sick, but he’s never attempted his grandmother's chicken noodle soup recipe before.

Merlin’s been passed out in his bed for the majority of the day after taking a dose of Nyquil to help with his symptoms. Hearing Merlin milling around in the bathroom, Arthur takes the top off of the pot on the stove, stirring together the ingredients and hoping that he hasn’t completely destroyed the recipe. He’s not even sure that it matters how it tastes because as congested as Merlin’s been, he probably won’t be able to taste it, anyway.

Arthur ladles a portion of soup into a large soup bowl before grabbing a bottle of Gatorade and making his way down the hall. He stops just outside of Merlin’s door, pausing to knock.

“Merlin,” Arthur calls softly, although he knows Merlin must be awake if he was just moving around. “I made some soup.” Stepping inside of the room, he brings the bowl over to the bed, noticing how red and bloodshot Merlin’s eyes appear now. “God, have you slept in the past day? You look terrible.”

“Mmh,” Merlin groans as he shifts on the bed, looking like he’s attempting a withering glare in Arthur’s general direction, but unable to summon up the energy to properly do so. “Thanks for the compliment.”

Arthur moves closer with the soup. “C’mon, you big baby, you should eat something.”

“I’m not hungry.”

“Merlin.”

“Arthur, please. I just wan’ be left alone,” Merlin sighs, his breath coming out in a rush between his lips.

“Merl—”

“Go,” Merlin snaps, cutting him off sharply.

Arthur shuts his mouth at Merlin’s tone. He can’t understand why he’s being so ridiculous about this, he isn’t even trying to get better or let Arthur help him at all. He sets the bottle of Gatorade on the bed for him to drink. “Fine,” Arthur says finally. “I’ll put the soup in the fridge for when you’re not quite as miserable and you actually decide to take care of yourself.”

Without another word, Arthur quietly lets himself out of Merlin’s room, wishing Merlin would just let him help.

___________________________________________

Arthur glares at his luggage from where it sits in the corner of the room, mocking him. He’s supposed to leave later today for Killington. He’s always looked forward to his time spent there. There’s something about putting all your worries aside, embracing the good things about the holidays, and letting all of the stress fadeaway.

Especially as both he and Morgana have gone away to college, he doesn’t get to see her nearly enough.

Silently, he makes his way down the hallway towards Merlin’s room. Despite being kicked out the night before, he raps against it when he sees the light on. “Is it safe to come in, or should I expect to have my head bitten off again?”

He hears Merlin sigh on the other side. “Come in, Arthur.”

Arthur steps just inside the doorway, standing awkwardly in front of Merlin, not daring to press his luck. “How’s your fever? I, uh, I saw that you tried some soup last night.”

Merlin stares straight ahead for a long moment, and Athur’s beginning to wonder if he’s even heard anything that he’s said. His cheeks are flushed, and he looks terrible as he begins to cough fitfully into the crook of his arm. Merlin winces as his coughing fit fades.

“I’m sorry,” Merlin says finally. Arthur squints at him a bit, as if he must've heard Merlin wrong, but he doesn’t comment on it. “For how I acted last night. I know you were just trying to help. I had to tell my mom I wouldn’t be able to make it home for the holidays because I’m sick, and I took it out on you.”

The words settle with Arthur, then. Merlin thinks he’s going to be spending the holidays utterly alone, in bed and that’s why he’s been so miserable.

“I know you were looking forward to being able to go home and see her,” Arthur says finally. “But at least you won’t be completely alone for the entire holiday.”

“What does that mean?”

“My flight’s not leaving today.”

“Arthur, you can’t change your holiday plans.” Merlin waves around an arm, as if trying to find the words to get his point across. But he doesn’t need to, Arthur already knows where his argument is heading.

“Don’t flatter yourself,” Arthur chuckles, crossing his arms over his chest and raising an eyebrow. “My flight’s been delayed because of winter weather. I didn’t willingly change my holiday plans to play nurse.”

“You should stay away from me, anyway. The last thing that you need is to be stuck here instead of going on your big holiday ski trip.”

“I’ll be fine,” Arthur insists before handing him the thermometer. “Take your temperature, and stop being so difficult about taking care of yourself. You’re just going to end up feeling worse if you don’t stay on top of it.”

When the thermometer beeps, it flashes red, indicating that Merlin does still have a fever. This time, Arthur insists that he’s going to keep track of what he’s taking and when, to help him stay ahead of the fever.

When Merlin’s finally settled back against his pillows, Arthur tells him to get some rest before he walks out to the living room. He glances down at his phone.

Four missed calls.

Plopping himself down onto the couch, he scrubs a hand down over his face. He knows that he can only avoid her calls for so long, so Arthur finally calls Morgana back.

“Hey Morgana,” Arthur says when she answers the phone, head still cradled in his hand as if it weighs too much.

“So nice of you to finally call me back after that text message,” Morgana chides, the annoyance in her tone obvious. “I can’t believe you told me by text message that you’re not coming. Two days before Christmas.”

Arthur cringes at her words, but only because they’re true. He knows how much this time means to his family over the holidays, especially Morgana, and he’s not taking that for granted but Merlin needs him more right now. If he doesn’t stay behind then Merlin’s going to spend Christmas in their house alone, without having ever asked anyone for anything.

He knows that Merlin’s capable of taking care of himself, that obviously he’ll get along fine without Arthur. However, the thought of Merlin spending Christmas completely alone makes his heart ache.

“Morgana, I know that it’s not ideal, but—”

“Do you even know how intolerable your father is going to be this entire holiday? Even with my mom. So, tell me, what’s so important that you’re ruining Christmas for me?”

Arthur groans in annoyance. “You’re so dramatic, I’m not ruining Christmas. I’m staying behind because… there’s someone else who needs me a little bit more this Christmas, okay?”

“And this… someone that needs you more than us this Christmas, he’s asked you to stay with him?”

“Morgana.”

“Does this someone have a name?” Morgana persists.

Arthur presses his lips together tightly, sure that his step-sister already knows the answer to her question. She has been pestering Arthur to tell Merlin how he feels for nearly a year now. “It’s Merlin,” he admits dryly.

“Oh, Merlin,” Morgana drags out his name, and Arthur’s sure that he can hear her grinning into the phone line. “So is this… a roman—”

“He’s sick and can’t go home for the holidays, alright? There’s nothing romantic about it. He just shouldn’t have to spend the holiday all alone. He needs someone to take care of him, anyways. He’s absolutely useless.”

“Did he ask you to stay with him?”

“It doesn’t matter if he asked me.”

“I think we both know that’s not true,” Morgana says. “If you’re going to spend the holidays there with him, then you should at least be honest with yourself and Merlin about why you’re really there.”

“I don’t know what that’s supposed to mean.”

“Be honest about how you feel. Hopefully to Merlin, but especially to yourself. I’ll try to handle Uther, but promise me that you won’t let the holidays pass without telling him how you feel?”

“I—” a choked sound slips past Arthur’s lips as he thinks about the rejection that would surely follow. Arthur and Merlin are a lot of things: friends, roommates, classmates, but anything beyond that is never going to happen. “I’ll try.”

That seems to satisfy Morgana enough to let him go. She hangs up the phone, presumably to help Arthur by spinning some kind of tale to Uther. Once he’s in the silence of the living room, surrounded only by the promise that he’s made to her, he wonders how in the hell he’s supposed to explain any of this to Merlin.

___________________________________________

So, Arthur busies himself with cleaning and checking on Merlin way more often than any friend should. With the amount of time that Merlin’s spent resting, it’s given Arthur more time to think about what Morgana said to him earlier than he’d like.

About the real reason why he’s cancelled his holiday plans with his family—his favorite trip of the year—to stay at home, disinfecting every hard surface, while playing nurse.

Arthur’s never wanted to do those things for anyone before, he’s never cared enough to.

___________________________________________

It’s the first time in the last several days that Merlin’s made it beyond the bathroom or his bed. They’re both sitting on the couch with the television on, and Arthur’s been engrossed in Schitt’s Creek for a while now. He doesn’t know how he didn’t discover the show on his own, without Merlin to find it for him, but the last thing he’s going to do is thank him for it or point it out.

“Hey, Arthur,” Merlin says, early in the day on Christmas Eve. “When does your flight leave?"

Arthur’s attention quickly pivots from the screen in front of them, his gaze shifting to Merlin. “Hmmm?”

“Your flight. It’s already 2 o’clock on Christmas Eve. What time’s your new flight?”

Merlin was inevitably going to ask him when his flight was, yet somehow he still feels unprepared for the question.”Oh, uh…” Arthur shrugs his shoulder lightly before turning back to the show.

“Arthur, it’s not a hard question,” Merlin says carefully, taking a few sips from his mug of tea that Arthur’s sweetened with just the right amount of honey. When Arthur doesn’t start talking, Merlin pauses the episode and turns to look at Arthur expectantly. “What time, Arthur. What time is your flight?”

Arthur sighs a little, trying to consider his words carefully.

There’s a part of him that wants to tell Merlin the truth, the whole truth. That he hasn’t just been his roommate for a very long time. He’s been a friend… a friend that he wants more with. They have these mundane nights and sit beside each other on the couch, but he itches to reach over and hold Merlin’s hand. On his hardest days, when he’s struggling to make it through his business classes, he knows that it’ll be okay because at the end of the day he’ll come home and see Merlin… and somehow just knowing that Merlin is home seems to ease the burdens of the world.

The other part of him is telling him that there is absolutely no way that Merlin could ever have the same feelings for Arthur, so why would he even bother to bring them up and cause himself more hurt?

“Why are you avoiding talking about this?” Arthur looks at Merlin, and he doesn’t exactly look angry, but like he’s perplexed and can’t figure out what’s going on in Arthur’s head.

“I cancelled my flight, Merlin. I’m not going on the trip.”

“What? Why not? You love that trip. That’s literally all that you talked about for a solid month last year once you got back. It’s all you’ve been talking about doing for months now.” Arthur looks away from Merlin and drops his gaze to where his hands rest awkwardly in his lap. He takes one deep breath and then another, trying to steady himself for a conversation he knows they should’ve had a long time ago, but one that he doesn’t feel at all prepared for.

“Arthur, talk to me,” Merlin says.

“I cancelled it after you got sick the other day, Merlin. I knew that you weren’t going to be able to go home with your mom, and that you were going to spend your Christmas alone.”

“I would’ve been fine,” Merlin sighs. “I would’ve been fine here for a few days, and now you’re missing out on this time with your family when you’d obviously rather be there than stuck here with me.”

There’s something about Merlin’s tone, the way that he makes spending this time with him sound like it’s such a terrible fate. Sure, disinfecting the house hasn’t exactly been fun, but being here with Merlin and making sure that he’s okay? It’s buoyed Arthur in ways that he hadn’t expected, bringing him closer to admitting the way that he really feels. Something that he thought he’d never be prepared to admit.

“I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t want to be,” Arthur admits, his voice more even and sure than ever.

Merlin looks at Arthur, his brow pinching together tightly in confusion, as if trying to figure out the missing piece to a puzzle. “I-I don’t understand.”

Arthur tries to remind himself that no matter what he says to Merlin now, and no matter how he responds to Arthur’s truth, that it has to be okay. He can’t hide the way that he feels forever, for fear of being hurt by his feelings not being reciprocated. Treating things that way for the past year hasn’t done him any good, keeping those feelings locked up. It’s only made him harbor those feelings deeper, the fear of the truth building to this unsurmountable thing, an unshakable force.

No matter how Merlin feels, Arthur has to tell him the truth… and he has to tell him today. Even if that means things between them are never the same.

“I never wanted to spend Christmas without you, Merlin,” Arthur admits quietly, finally turning his head in order to catch Merlin’s gaze. “I mean, I’ve always loved the holidays with my family, especially since being away for school. But things have been different for a while, and I couldn’t bear the thought of you spending your entire Christmas here, alone. I wanted to be here for you, with you.”

“You sacrificed your entire holiday to spend it taking care of me and listening to me whine and mope for days,” Merlin says, his brow still pinched together as he tries to untangle all the knots and figure out what Arthur is trying to tell him. He knows that the way the words are coming out now are messy and unorganized, but that’s exactly how Arthur is feeling right now. Scattered, but truthful. One morsel of truth at a time. Arthur’s thumb grazes the arm of the couch, trying to find a fixed point to focus on so that his mind can slow down enough to explain it all.

“It wasn’t a sacrifice, that’s what I’m trying to tell you. If-if anyone were to ask me who I wanted to spend my holidays with this year, do you know what I would have told them, if I was being honest?”

Merlin’s mouth is slightly ajar, looking like he wants to answer him, but also as though he thinks that no matter what he’s about to say that it’ll be the wrong answer. He seems to wrestle with it for a second before answering. “Your family, of course.”

“No, Merlin,” Arthur whistles out a breath, the fear and excitement of what could come from this conversation making his gut clench. He braces himself for the impact of the words before he actually speaks them. “I’d tell them I wanted to spend Christmas with you.”

“Why… why me, Arthur? I’m nothing but a thorn in your side,” Merlin laughs, but his voice sounds rough, searching for anywhere to look that isn’t Arthur. “I mean, just look at this week—”

Arthur feels himself hesitating, his hand twitching from where it’s been resting in his lap. His gaze shifts to Merlin, and he can feel the self-deprecation that Merlin is insinuating deep down to his soul. He thinks back to his conversation with Morgana, realizing that maybe she wasn’t completely off base about what she’d said to him. It still terrifies him, this great unknown, but he braces himself for the fall out as he reaches his hand out, placing it tentatively on top of Merlin’s. “You keep my life interesting; you keep me on my toes and make me laugh in a way that nobody else can. I didn’t know what that meant at first, and then I just kept pushing those feelings down because I was terrified that you didn’t feel the same way. But, this week... being here with you has felt so right. Without our routines or work to hide behind.

“And I know that it’s very possible that you don’t feel the same way, but the fact that you’re not pulling your hand away and telling me I’m crazy means that there’s a chance that you do. Maybe there’s a chance that … that I’m not the only one who feels this, whatever this is.”

Arthur watches as the corners of Merlin’s lips twitch, despite how watery his eyes have become in these moments. “For someone that never talks about their feelings, you’ve sure got a lot to say.”

“For someone who never shuts up, you’ve been awfully quiet,” Arthur counters.

Merlin shifts his body slightly on the couch beside him, glancing down at where Arthur’s hand still rests on top of his. “I didn’t want to interrupt. Since hearing you talk about your feelings is such a rare occurrence, I really wanted to enjoy the full experience.”

“The full experience? I think you’ve been plenty quiety now, so maybe we can make this a two person conversation, instead of—”

“— you making a fool of yourself?” Merlin grins.

Arthur swallows past the lump in his throat, though he’s sure that this time it isn’t for the fear of what could happen, but the nervous anticipation that’s bubbling in his chest, thinking about the possibilities of what could be. His fingertips trace along the curve of Merlin’s thumb. “Well, you do seem to appreciate it when I make a fool of myself.”

“How long are you going to let this conversation drag out before you actually do something about it?” Arthur hears the challenge in Merlin’s tone, sees the playful glint in his eye. Suddenly, he has no idea how he allowed his fear to consume him for so long. His gaze drifts to Merlin’s lips, before it flits up to Merlin’s steady gaze again, watching as Merlin’s lips curl up into a smile.

Finally, Arthur reaches out of a hand, rubbing his thumb against Merlin’s cheek, as if to be sure that he’s not going to suddenly pull away and change his mind. When Merlin doesn’t show any signs of reluctance Arthur moves forward, inching into Merlin’s space. He kisses him with a tenderness he didn’t know that he was capable of. Somehow, Merlin pulls that out of him, all of the very best parts of him… when he’s not too busy covering them up with sarcasm.

Merlin’s hand drops to rest against Arthur’s chest and they stay like that for a minute, neither one of them wanting to pull away, for fear of breaking the bubble that somehow seems to surround them at this moment. Once Merlin pulls back, his eyes slowly open and Arthur watches him, memorizing the way his cheeks are now flushed a beautiful shade of pink.

“You’re welcome,” Merlin says, causing Arthur to cock his head to the side, squinting at him. He’s trying to recall what conversation they were having before he was consumed with the pressing need to feel Merlin’s lips against his for the first time. He swallows down the desire to kiss him again, not daring to give Merlin another reason to be smug.

“I’m sorry…. what are you saying you’re welcome for?” Arthur croaks. He’ll probably end up sounding like a total idiot, having completely forgotten the conversation before he pressed his lips against Merlin’s, soft and slow. Merlin smirks over at him, tracing his fingers down Arthur’s arm, his eyes twinkling with mischief.

“For lowering my immune system enough to get sick. To make this happen for us.”

Arthur lets out a hearty laugh, shaking his head in disbelief. “Do you mean to tell me you’re honestly trying to take credit for me making the first move?”

“I’m just saying,” Merlin murmurs, continuing to slide his hand up until his thumb sweeps against the hollow of Arthur’s throat, and Arthur needs to exercise every ounce of control that he has to prevent a needy sound from slipping past his lips. “If I wasn’t sick and you didn’t stay behind, you never would have confessed your feelings for me.”

“Shut up, Merlin.”

“Gladly,” Merlin whispers, and unlike earlier today, when he smiles it reaches all the way to his eyes, causing warmth to bloom in Arthur’s chest. This has all been very unlike any Christmas Eve that Arthur’s had in the past. The entire Pendragon clan is usually caught up in decorating the tree together, prepping all of the last minute things for Christmas day, and drinking some hot cocoa after a busy day on the slopes.

Still, there’s something about this one, sagging back into the couch and gently tugging Merlin with him. This space of theirs truly feels like home. “Merry Christmas, Arthur.”

“Merry Christmas, Merlin,” Arthur replies, and it is a very Merry Christmas, indeed.