fic: it's been all i will remember
remember when my life wasn't all about writing self-indulgent merlin fic? yeah, me neither.
it's been all i will remember
merlin/arthur; pg; ~600 words
spoilers for 4x03;
it is so delicate and dangerous, this thing they are building.
notes:
+ i blame
lolafeist and her "breakfast and then quietly sleeping together" comment.
+ also this song.
+ also everything because these boys need to cuddle for a very long time.
He wants to joke, It's hard work, this grief business, works up quite an appetite, but then again, this really isn't the time, nor is it all that applicable, he finds, because neither of them eat much of the breakfast Merlin has plucked from the kitchens. Arthur scowls at a few grapes, leaves the bread and cheese untouched. Merlin thinks, You have to eat, but can't really make himself say it, not when Arthur spends most of his morning looking out the window and being terribly unreadable.
It is hard work and it takes a very physical toll. Arthur, who hasn't slept in days, is feeling it now. He can barely sit up even though he refuses to shut his eyes, and here, Merlin does not bite his tongue.
"A king with no sleep," chides Merlin, "isn't going to be any good for anyone."
It draws a laugh out of Arthur, dry and hollow, "Is that what they're calling me now?"
And Merlin lets it hang in the air. He has been holding his breath for this day his entire life, it feels, and yet, it brings with it none of the release he had expected. He knows that realistically, there isn't much anyone can do right now except wait it out, just sit patiently and allow this time to pass.
He clears their plates from Arthur's bed and reaches for the hem of Arthur's tunic. It's quieter now than it's ever been, undressing Arthur, and Merlin, for once, takes his time with it, lets his hands linger where they shouldn't, far longer than they should. He doesn't look Arthur in the eye during any point of it and that much remains the same. Only now, it is a whole new kind of excruciating.
"It will be okay," and it's Arthur who speaks. Merlin figures it's said to himself but he closes his eyes, breathes it in deep all the same.
"Yeah," he echoes. "It will."
And when Merlin's work is done, he mumbles, "If you want, I can--"
And Arthur doesn't give him the time to finish when he says, "Yes." He shifts over in the bed, making the extra space. Merlin can see his throat work and finds his own fingers curled tight in the discarded tunic from earlier, the one he's now got balled up in his hands.
Right, he thinks. Okay.
*
They used to do this back in Ealdor all the time but Merlin has long since forgotten what it's like to have a solid presence sleeping next to him. They don't touch and they are both careful of that. Or, at least, careful until midway through the morning, a little way before noon, when Merlin's eyes open with a start. The room is unusually warm and Arthur's arm is around him, forehead pressed at the junction of Merlin's neck and shoulder.
Merlin tries to breathe and it fails him the first few times. A few more, and he does manage to relax, just a bit, just enough to curl back around Arthur, a hand in his hair. He has to be careful to not clutch at him too tight, careful to not want and want so much because it is so delicate and dangerous, this thing they are building.
When Arthur awakens an hour or so later and makes no motion of disentangling them, there is a thank you somewhere in the air. Merlin's not quite sure if he's heard it or if it's just in the way Arthur's looking at him, holding on to him.
It will be okay, Merlin thinks. It will. It will. He knows because he's starting to believe it himself.
it's been all i will remember
merlin/arthur; pg; ~600 words
spoilers for 4x03;
it is so delicate and dangerous, this thing they are building.
notes:
+ i blame
lolafeist and her "breakfast and then quietly sleeping together" comment.
+ also this song.
+ also everything because these boys need to cuddle for a very long time.
He wants to joke, It's hard work, this grief business, works up quite an appetite, but then again, this really isn't the time, nor is it all that applicable, he finds, because neither of them eat much of the breakfast Merlin has plucked from the kitchens. Arthur scowls at a few grapes, leaves the bread and cheese untouched. Merlin thinks, You have to eat, but can't really make himself say it, not when Arthur spends most of his morning looking out the window and being terribly unreadable.
It is hard work and it takes a very physical toll. Arthur, who hasn't slept in days, is feeling it now. He can barely sit up even though he refuses to shut his eyes, and here, Merlin does not bite his tongue.
"A king with no sleep," chides Merlin, "isn't going to be any good for anyone."
It draws a laugh out of Arthur, dry and hollow, "Is that what they're calling me now?"
And Merlin lets it hang in the air. He has been holding his breath for this day his entire life, it feels, and yet, it brings with it none of the release he had expected. He knows that realistically, there isn't much anyone can do right now except wait it out, just sit patiently and allow this time to pass.
He clears their plates from Arthur's bed and reaches for the hem of Arthur's tunic. It's quieter now than it's ever been, undressing Arthur, and Merlin, for once, takes his time with it, lets his hands linger where they shouldn't, far longer than they should. He doesn't look Arthur in the eye during any point of it and that much remains the same. Only now, it is a whole new kind of excruciating.
"It will be okay," and it's Arthur who speaks. Merlin figures it's said to himself but he closes his eyes, breathes it in deep all the same.
"Yeah," he echoes. "It will."
And when Merlin's work is done, he mumbles, "If you want, I can--"
And Arthur doesn't give him the time to finish when he says, "Yes." He shifts over in the bed, making the extra space. Merlin can see his throat work and finds his own fingers curled tight in the discarded tunic from earlier, the one he's now got balled up in his hands.
Right, he thinks. Okay.
*
They used to do this back in Ealdor all the time but Merlin has long since forgotten what it's like to have a solid presence sleeping next to him. They don't touch and they are both careful of that. Or, at least, careful until midway through the morning, a little way before noon, when Merlin's eyes open with a start. The room is unusually warm and Arthur's arm is around him, forehead pressed at the junction of Merlin's neck and shoulder.
Merlin tries to breathe and it fails him the first few times. A few more, and he does manage to relax, just a bit, just enough to curl back around Arthur, a hand in his hair. He has to be careful to not clutch at him too tight, careful to not want and want so much because it is so delicate and dangerous, this thing they are building.
When Arthur awakens an hour or so later and makes no motion of disentangling them, there is a thank you somewhere in the air. Merlin's not quite sure if he's heard it or if it's just in the way Arthur's looking at him, holding on to him.
It will be okay, Merlin thinks. It will. It will. He knows because he's starting to believe it himself.