A Dangerous Pastime
Title: A Dangerous Pastime
Fandom: Merlin
Pairings: pre-Merlin/Arthur
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: They don't belong to me - they belong to legend and the BBC.
Spoilers: None.
Summary: Arthur has an important question to ask Merlin.
Author's Note: I think this is perhaps an obligatory fic genre for every Merlin fic writer...
Thanks to: morbid_sparks, who read this over for me, and to angelzbabe1989 who helped come up with the title.
A Dangerous Pastime
“Okay,” Arthur starts as he shuffles into the antechamber. “Are you or aren’t you?”
Merlin looks up from his small stool where he is sitting with Arthur’s armour across his lap. Arthur vaguely recalls Merlin telling him yesterday - or was it the day before? - that he has been keeping himself busy by smoothing out the tiny dents in it that he usually has to ignore - the insignificant ones that don’t compromise the effectiveness of the protection but nevertheless make it more difficult to maintain and polish.
He doesn’t usually have the time to repair such minor damage, Arthur usually having need of the armour almost daily for training or some quest or hunting trip or another, but with Arthur confined to bed ill, he has time to spare.
“What are you doing out here?” Merlin asks, a hint of alarm in his tone as he completely ignores Arthur’s question. “Gaius said you had to stay in bed for at least another day or two.”
Arthur holds out the blankets draped around his shoulders in defence. “I brought my bed with me, see?” he replies. “And I’m feeling a lot better, really. You worry too much, Merlin.”
“Of course I’m worried!” Merlin rejoins. “Gaius will have my skin if he finds out I let you get out of bed before he gave the okay.”
He is on his feet and ushering Arthur back to bed with sweeping hands and gentle supporting touches before Arthur even has time to think up a protest.
He lets himself be guided back beneath the blankets, his pillows freshly plumped as he rests back onto them.
“So are you or aren’t you?” he repeats as Merlin fusses around him, making sure he is thoroughly tucked-in.
“Am I what?” Merlin asks, wide eyes staring back at him guilelessly as he straightens.
“A sorcerer,” Arthur clarifies bluntly, betraying no emotions.
Merlin’s eyes widen even further, if that is even possible, and Arthur muses for a moment that his trusted manservant - and friend, even if he will never admit that one aloud - has taken on the appearance of a startled rabbit.
The moment passes and Merlin appears to be making an effort to seem calm and composed, as if nothing unusual had just happened.
“A sorcerer? Me?” he replies, his voice a little too high and his jocular tone a little too forced. “Whatever would give you that idea?”
It is clear that Merlin is trying to use the question as a joke, to dismiss the question as ridiculous, but it is a question Arthur feels he must answer, nonetheless.
True, it is a conclusion only recently reached, and was it not for the enforced bed rest he has been on during his illness, he might never have worked it out.
That his thoughts, when he is left alone with them, should turn to Merlin is no real surprise. The young man occupies Arthur’s mind with a regularity that would not be wise to admit. Arthur tries not to consider too hard the significance of this, just as he ignores with determination the content of many of those thoughts and how inappropriate they would seem if anyone knew of them.
With four days - and counting - wherein he’d had little but his own thoughts with which to amuse himself, contemplation of Merlin was almost inevitable. Unlike his usual thoughts, however, he had found himself reliving moments from their past, and noticing things he hadn’t really given much attention to the first time around.
“Possibly because you’ve been using magic to get us out of tight spots ever since I met you,” he tells Merlin after a few moments’ thought.
Merlin backs away a few steps, fear and worry writ plain across his features. “I…”
“I know I’ve been pretty oblivious, but I’m not a complete idiot,” Arthur says. “And when I thought about it over the last few days, I couldn’t believe I hadn’t seen it before. Things like that don’t just happen all on their own.”
When Arthur looks harder at Merlin, he realises the man is physically shaking. “What’s wrong?”
“What…” Merlin swallows visibly and his voice is trembling. “What are you going to do to me?” He has backed up so far that his back is against the wall, and he has one hand held out defensively.
“Do to you?” Arthur is confused. “What do you mean what am I going to…?” Oh. The terror on Merlin’s face suddenly hits him and he realises the cause. “I’m not going to let anything happen to you, Merlin. I won’t turn you in.”
Merlin stays pressed against the wall and tilts his head uncertainly. “Really?” His voice is still too high and wobbly.
“Really,” Arthur assures him. “I…” He pushes the blankets back and sits up a little more. “I’ve never been as certain as my father seems to be that magic automatically equals evil, and then you…”
The thought that Merlin could be evil has never even crossed his mind. He knows Merlin, knows that he doesn’t have an evil bone in his body.
He watches as Merlin relaxes a little, pushing away from the wall and taking a step - then two - towards the bed. “I swear, I have only ever tried to…”
“I know,” Arthur interrupts him, thinking of all the times he has faced almost certain death and, with Merlin by his side, come out the other side virtually unscathed. He knows he has Merlin to thank for them all. “I know.”
The End
Comments and concrit are ALWAYS welcomed and loved. :)
Fandom: Merlin
Pairings: pre-Merlin/Arthur
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: They don't belong to me - they belong to legend and the BBC.
Spoilers: None.
Summary: Arthur has an important question to ask Merlin.
Author's Note: I think this is perhaps an obligatory fic genre for every Merlin fic writer...
Thanks to: morbid_sparks, who read this over for me, and to angelzbabe1989 who helped come up with the title.
A Dangerous Pastime
“Okay,” Arthur starts as he shuffles into the antechamber. “Are you or aren’t you?”
Merlin looks up from his small stool where he is sitting with Arthur’s armour across his lap. Arthur vaguely recalls Merlin telling him yesterday - or was it the day before? - that he has been keeping himself busy by smoothing out the tiny dents in it that he usually has to ignore - the insignificant ones that don’t compromise the effectiveness of the protection but nevertheless make it more difficult to maintain and polish.
He doesn’t usually have the time to repair such minor damage, Arthur usually having need of the armour almost daily for training or some quest or hunting trip or another, but with Arthur confined to bed ill, he has time to spare.
“What are you doing out here?” Merlin asks, a hint of alarm in his tone as he completely ignores Arthur’s question. “Gaius said you had to stay in bed for at least another day or two.”
Arthur holds out the blankets draped around his shoulders in defence. “I brought my bed with me, see?” he replies. “And I’m feeling a lot better, really. You worry too much, Merlin.”
“Of course I’m worried!” Merlin rejoins. “Gaius will have my skin if he finds out I let you get out of bed before he gave the okay.”
He is on his feet and ushering Arthur back to bed with sweeping hands and gentle supporting touches before Arthur even has time to think up a protest.
He lets himself be guided back beneath the blankets, his pillows freshly plumped as he rests back onto them.
“So are you or aren’t you?” he repeats as Merlin fusses around him, making sure he is thoroughly tucked-in.
“Am I what?” Merlin asks, wide eyes staring back at him guilelessly as he straightens.
“A sorcerer,” Arthur clarifies bluntly, betraying no emotions.
Merlin’s eyes widen even further, if that is even possible, and Arthur muses for a moment that his trusted manservant - and friend, even if he will never admit that one aloud - has taken on the appearance of a startled rabbit.
The moment passes and Merlin appears to be making an effort to seem calm and composed, as if nothing unusual had just happened.
“A sorcerer? Me?” he replies, his voice a little too high and his jocular tone a little too forced. “Whatever would give you that idea?”
It is clear that Merlin is trying to use the question as a joke, to dismiss the question as ridiculous, but it is a question Arthur feels he must answer, nonetheless.
True, it is a conclusion only recently reached, and was it not for the enforced bed rest he has been on during his illness, he might never have worked it out.
That his thoughts, when he is left alone with them, should turn to Merlin is no real surprise. The young man occupies Arthur’s mind with a regularity that would not be wise to admit. Arthur tries not to consider too hard the significance of this, just as he ignores with determination the content of many of those thoughts and how inappropriate they would seem if anyone knew of them.
With four days - and counting - wherein he’d had little but his own thoughts with which to amuse himself, contemplation of Merlin was almost inevitable. Unlike his usual thoughts, however, he had found himself reliving moments from their past, and noticing things he hadn’t really given much attention to the first time around.
“Possibly because you’ve been using magic to get us out of tight spots ever since I met you,” he tells Merlin after a few moments’ thought.
Merlin backs away a few steps, fear and worry writ plain across his features. “I…”
“I know I’ve been pretty oblivious, but I’m not a complete idiot,” Arthur says. “And when I thought about it over the last few days, I couldn’t believe I hadn’t seen it before. Things like that don’t just happen all on their own.”
When Arthur looks harder at Merlin, he realises the man is physically shaking. “What’s wrong?”
“What…” Merlin swallows visibly and his voice is trembling. “What are you going to do to me?” He has backed up so far that his back is against the wall, and he has one hand held out defensively.
“Do to you?” Arthur is confused. “What do you mean what am I going to…?” Oh. The terror on Merlin’s face suddenly hits him and he realises the cause. “I’m not going to let anything happen to you, Merlin. I won’t turn you in.”
Merlin stays pressed against the wall and tilts his head uncertainly. “Really?” His voice is still too high and wobbly.
“Really,” Arthur assures him. “I…” He pushes the blankets back and sits up a little more. “I’ve never been as certain as my father seems to be that magic automatically equals evil, and then you…”
The thought that Merlin could be evil has never even crossed his mind. He knows Merlin, knows that he doesn’t have an evil bone in his body.
He watches as Merlin relaxes a little, pushing away from the wall and taking a step - then two - towards the bed. “I swear, I have only ever tried to…”
“I know,” Arthur interrupts him, thinking of all the times he has faced almost certain death and, with Merlin by his side, come out the other side virtually unscathed. He knows he has Merlin to thank for them all. “I know.”
The End
Comments and concrit are ALWAYS welcomed and loved. :)