fic: if at any point you were thinking [1/1]
Fic: If At Any Point You Were Thinking
Fandom: Merlin BBC
Words: ~1500
Spoilers: Through to 1x13.
Summary: Merlin/Arthur, post-1x13. May include implied fluff. In which Merlin is rather oblivious, but it's not entirely his fault. For God's sake, there are stairs and they are right in front of your eyes.
***
Of course, arriving back, the guards had sent ahead to inform the prince and the king that that the royal physician (and incidentally, his ward) had returned.
Of course, Gaius took care of it. A matter of great urgency. Hunith had brought word of a plague, a terrible plague, and they'd needed to run off in the middle of the night to keep it from Camelot.
And of course, when they returned to their quarters, Arthur followed with a glint in his eye that Merlin would have compared out loud to when the hunting dogs picked up a scent, if Arthur wouldn't have clapped him across the head for it. That occurrence had impressive precedent.
Gaius made an escape to the kitchens with a parting eyebrow at Athur's incredibly subtle cough and Merlin glared at the table near the edge his hands were clamped around.
"So where did you go?"
"The place," Merlin waved a hand at the window, "with the plague. And the herbs. Like Gaius said." He looked up with a blink.
"I'll saddle my horse myself and run right off with those excellent directions," Arthur answered with a raised eyebrow.
"What makes you ask? Do you need anything done?" Merlin didn't move his hands from the table, focusing on being an obedient little servant. If Arthur wanted to believe him exhausted, he could go ahead: it would be perfectly true in not very long, when the the power he'd broken from the sky stopped humming in his veins and resenting the way he stood still.
"No, Merlin, I do not need anything done," Arthur replied sharply, shaking his head and Merlin wondered in a distant way if he'd somehow offended him. He sounded offended. Merlin didn't think he'd said anything of the sort and they were alone - it wasn't as if Arthur usually minded Merlin not tacking 'sire' onto the end of every sentence. Arthur looked at him and spoke slowly, as if Merlin were the idiot they both very occasionally believed him to be. "You were talking oddly before you left."
"I was scared," Merlin admitted because really, it was the least of all the things he could admit in this conversation, and he'd count himself lucky if it were the only one he did.
Arthur put his hands behind his back. "No, you weren't. Not of dying, anyway."
"No, not of dying," Merlin answered, voice low and eyes on the window. It occurred to him that he wasn't facing his prince while he was addressing him and that in some rule book somewhere, there was a sub-clause prohibiting that. "My mother was sick. I was scared of it not working."
Merlin blinked, eyes stinging from the lack of it and throat working from not swallowing; he was being too still, but he wasn't lying.
"I understand," Arthur said slowly, walking equally slowly to intrude on his vision and place his hands flat on the table opposite Merlin's own clenched hands. Something he hadn't said fell into the space between them - that much. Arthur understood that much.
"You know," Arthur started brightly, as if it were a whole other subject and Merlin's eyes snapped to him because he was dangerous when he pretended to be a smiling idiot, "my father and I hear a lot of people talking about death and dying and things about to die." Arthur looked up at him, gesturing that he should sit, and pushed a wooden tankard of water from the jug in his direction. "Courtiers say it a lot when they want something, especially if it's something really boring, because the occasional 'or death!' thrown in makes us stay awake."
That made sense, Merlin thought as he sat and took a drink, it really did.
"You get used to listening for when they mean it," Arthur sat down his own glass and looked at him, then seemed to judge that there was a time for subtle and that it was another time, "you meant it."
"I did," Merlin answered and wondered where his ability to say more than two words had gone.
"Okay, then," Arthur said with a grin as if something had been decided, "just so long as we're clear on that. 'Until the day you die.'"
Well, obviously, Merlin thought with a flash of irritation. He'd said it, hadn't he?
"Well, can you blame me? You make grand statements about being perfectly terrible at your job me for the rest of time and then promptly disappear. It does not speak to reliability, Merlin," Arthur explained, smirking and refilling his tankard as Merlin realised he'd spoken out loud.
"Can you trust that if I disappear it's important?" Merlin blinked and stretched out his fingers, shaking his head and looking around the room.
"If I have to."
Arthur sounded very much like a sullen child, but Merlin chose not to inform him.
"When I'm king, obviously not."
"Obviously not," Merlin agreed, nodding, glad that they'd sorted that out.
Arthur frowned and hesitated, tankard inches from his lips. "You're a terrible manservant with atrocious taste in accessories and you enjoy the stocks too much for any of us to be sure you're not mentally afflicted," he said in a rush, eyes narrowing on Merlin as his words sunk in.
"If you say so," Merlin replied.
"That's it!" Arthur sat the tankard down with a thud. "You, bed, now."
"Why?" Merlin asked, tilting his head, somewhere realising that Arthur was ordering him to bed.
"Because you've clearly gone completely mental from lack of sleep," Arthur rolled his eyes, standing, saying it as if it were an obvious thing that Merlin should already know, like most of the things Arthur said.
Out of habit, Merlin stood when he did, but he didn't expect Arthur to walk around the table, still glaring at him, and push him in the back towards his room. When Merlin paused, there was another small insistent prod in the small of his back.
"For God's sake, there are stairs and they are right in front of your eyes," the other man put in, pushing Merlin's door open ahead of him. When Merlin stumbled on the last step, Arthur grumbled, swore and slung Merlin's arm around his shoulders. When they were over the last step, Arthur took a step forward - fast, like most of the things he did - and then unceremoniously dropped Merlin on his bed.
"Clothes," Merlin said into his blankets.
Arthur pulled the top blanket out from under Merlin, turning him over onto his back in the process, and dumped it on top of him. However, Merlin wondered, staring idly at the ceiling, which seemed to have stars on it, whether dumped was really the right word. Dumped didn't cover the part where Arthur tugged the blanket down over Merlin's feet.
"You will be changing before you come to work anyway," Arthur commented in a determined kind of way and Merlin suppressed an insane thought. They finally spoke the same language and that's why he couldn't really feel the weight of sire when he thought it: they both said things, and through their wills, they were.
"What?" Merlin had been trying for what are you doing but didn't quite get there. He usually winced when that stupid, uncomfortable, tiny wooden chair was moved from its corner (which happened along with the rest of the furniture if he woke from a particularly violent dream and then Arthur wondered why his room was always a mess, but Arthur didn't know about the magic).
"I'm sitting down, what does it look like?"
What it looked like, Merlin didn't say, was something funny. The chair was built for a five-year old, or maybe a seven-year old if they were Merlin.
"Why?"
"Would you please go to sleep? I'm sure you'll be less annoying then, if it's any incentive."
"Why?"
There was a sigh. "I'm making sure you don't get any ideas about wandering off again, stubborn. The knights have better things to do than look for you, namely being human and doing what I tell them tomorrow morning. Like you."
Oh.
"Knights?"
Maybe Arthur wasn't a complete idiot, Merlin considered. He managed to get you sent the knights out while we were gone from one word.
"Yes. Gaius is the royal physician."
Oh.
"And I've gotten used to your incompetence."
"That's good."
Arthur laughed and Merlin felt a hand ghost over his forehead.
"Yes. It is."
Merlin felt a weight near his side and saw Arthur leaning forward on his elbows, expression downright mullish.
Oh.
If he wasn't going to sleep until Merlin did, Merlin supposed he'd best shut up and sleep. Everything else he'd just realised was going to have to wait until, at the very least, breakfast.
END.
Fandom: Merlin BBC
Words: ~1500
Spoilers: Through to 1x13.
Summary: Merlin/Arthur, post-1x13. May include implied fluff. In which Merlin is rather oblivious, but it's not entirely his fault. For God's sake, there are stairs and they are right in front of your eyes.
***
Of course, arriving back, the guards had sent ahead to inform the prince and the king that that the royal physician (and incidentally, his ward) had returned.
Of course, Gaius took care of it. A matter of great urgency. Hunith had brought word of a plague, a terrible plague, and they'd needed to run off in the middle of the night to keep it from Camelot.
And of course, when they returned to their quarters, Arthur followed with a glint in his eye that Merlin would have compared out loud to when the hunting dogs picked up a scent, if Arthur wouldn't have clapped him across the head for it. That occurrence had impressive precedent.
Gaius made an escape to the kitchens with a parting eyebrow at Athur's incredibly subtle cough and Merlin glared at the table near the edge his hands were clamped around.
"So where did you go?"
"The place," Merlin waved a hand at the window, "with the plague. And the herbs. Like Gaius said." He looked up with a blink.
"I'll saddle my horse myself and run right off with those excellent directions," Arthur answered with a raised eyebrow.
"What makes you ask? Do you need anything done?" Merlin didn't move his hands from the table, focusing on being an obedient little servant. If Arthur wanted to believe him exhausted, he could go ahead: it would be perfectly true in not very long, when the the power he'd broken from the sky stopped humming in his veins and resenting the way he stood still.
"No, Merlin, I do not need anything done," Arthur replied sharply, shaking his head and Merlin wondered in a distant way if he'd somehow offended him. He sounded offended. Merlin didn't think he'd said anything of the sort and they were alone - it wasn't as if Arthur usually minded Merlin not tacking 'sire' onto the end of every sentence. Arthur looked at him and spoke slowly, as if Merlin were the idiot they both very occasionally believed him to be. "You were talking oddly before you left."
"I was scared," Merlin admitted because really, it was the least of all the things he could admit in this conversation, and he'd count himself lucky if it were the only one he did.
Arthur put his hands behind his back. "No, you weren't. Not of dying, anyway."
"No, not of dying," Merlin answered, voice low and eyes on the window. It occurred to him that he wasn't facing his prince while he was addressing him and that in some rule book somewhere, there was a sub-clause prohibiting that. "My mother was sick. I was scared of it not working."
Merlin blinked, eyes stinging from the lack of it and throat working from not swallowing; he was being too still, but he wasn't lying.
"I understand," Arthur said slowly, walking equally slowly to intrude on his vision and place his hands flat on the table opposite Merlin's own clenched hands. Something he hadn't said fell into the space between them - that much. Arthur understood that much.
"You know," Arthur started brightly, as if it were a whole other subject and Merlin's eyes snapped to him because he was dangerous when he pretended to be a smiling idiot, "my father and I hear a lot of people talking about death and dying and things about to die." Arthur looked up at him, gesturing that he should sit, and pushed a wooden tankard of water from the jug in his direction. "Courtiers say it a lot when they want something, especially if it's something really boring, because the occasional 'or death!' thrown in makes us stay awake."
That made sense, Merlin thought as he sat and took a drink, it really did.
"You get used to listening for when they mean it," Arthur sat down his own glass and looked at him, then seemed to judge that there was a time for subtle and that it was another time, "you meant it."
"I did," Merlin answered and wondered where his ability to say more than two words had gone.
"Okay, then," Arthur said with a grin as if something had been decided, "just so long as we're clear on that. 'Until the day you die.'"
Well, obviously, Merlin thought with a flash of irritation. He'd said it, hadn't he?
"Well, can you blame me? You make grand statements about being perfectly terrible at your job me for the rest of time and then promptly disappear. It does not speak to reliability, Merlin," Arthur explained, smirking and refilling his tankard as Merlin realised he'd spoken out loud.
"Can you trust that if I disappear it's important?" Merlin blinked and stretched out his fingers, shaking his head and looking around the room.
"If I have to."
Arthur sounded very much like a sullen child, but Merlin chose not to inform him.
"When I'm king, obviously not."
"Obviously not," Merlin agreed, nodding, glad that they'd sorted that out.
Arthur frowned and hesitated, tankard inches from his lips. "You're a terrible manservant with atrocious taste in accessories and you enjoy the stocks too much for any of us to be sure you're not mentally afflicted," he said in a rush, eyes narrowing on Merlin as his words sunk in.
"If you say so," Merlin replied.
"That's it!" Arthur sat the tankard down with a thud. "You, bed, now."
"Why?" Merlin asked, tilting his head, somewhere realising that Arthur was ordering him to bed.
"Because you've clearly gone completely mental from lack of sleep," Arthur rolled his eyes, standing, saying it as if it were an obvious thing that Merlin should already know, like most of the things Arthur said.
Out of habit, Merlin stood when he did, but he didn't expect Arthur to walk around the table, still glaring at him, and push him in the back towards his room. When Merlin paused, there was another small insistent prod in the small of his back.
"For God's sake, there are stairs and they are right in front of your eyes," the other man put in, pushing Merlin's door open ahead of him. When Merlin stumbled on the last step, Arthur grumbled, swore and slung Merlin's arm around his shoulders. When they were over the last step, Arthur took a step forward - fast, like most of the things he did - and then unceremoniously dropped Merlin on his bed.
"Clothes," Merlin said into his blankets.
Arthur pulled the top blanket out from under Merlin, turning him over onto his back in the process, and dumped it on top of him. However, Merlin wondered, staring idly at the ceiling, which seemed to have stars on it, whether dumped was really the right word. Dumped didn't cover the part where Arthur tugged the blanket down over Merlin's feet.
"You will be changing before you come to work anyway," Arthur commented in a determined kind of way and Merlin suppressed an insane thought. They finally spoke the same language and that's why he couldn't really feel the weight of sire when he thought it: they both said things, and through their wills, they were.
"What?" Merlin had been trying for what are you doing but didn't quite get there. He usually winced when that stupid, uncomfortable, tiny wooden chair was moved from its corner (which happened along with the rest of the furniture if he woke from a particularly violent dream and then Arthur wondered why his room was always a mess, but Arthur didn't know about the magic).
"I'm sitting down, what does it look like?"
What it looked like, Merlin didn't say, was something funny. The chair was built for a five-year old, or maybe a seven-year old if they were Merlin.
"Why?"
"Would you please go to sleep? I'm sure you'll be less annoying then, if it's any incentive."
"Why?"
There was a sigh. "I'm making sure you don't get any ideas about wandering off again, stubborn. The knights have better things to do than look for you, namely being human and doing what I tell them tomorrow morning. Like you."
Oh.
"Knights?"
Maybe Arthur wasn't a complete idiot, Merlin considered. He managed to get you sent the knights out while we were gone from one word.
"Yes. Gaius is the royal physician."
Oh.
"And I've gotten used to your incompetence."
"That's good."
Arthur laughed and Merlin felt a hand ghost over his forehead.
"Yes. It is."
Merlin felt a weight near his side and saw Arthur leaning forward on his elbows, expression downright mullish.
Oh.
If he wasn't going to sleep until Merlin did, Merlin supposed he'd best shut up and sleep. Everything else he'd just realised was going to have to wait until, at the very least, breakfast.
END.