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amythystluna! Part 1/2
Dec. 22nd, 2010 09:10 am![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
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merlin_holidaysTitle: Careless Guidance of an Inadequate Englishman
Recipient:amythystluna
Author:dollop_head
Rating: NC-17
Pairings: Merlin/Arthur
Word Count: 13,000
Warnings: Swear words, NC-17 sex, and mediocre attempts at humor.
Summary: Arthur Pendragon has lived his whole life in New York City; it's boring and ordinary, and he can't connect with any of the people that live there. But when his life is saved mysteriously by a homeless boy he realizes that there is more to see in the world, but only if you're willing to take a chance to open your eyes.
Author's Notes: Many, many thanks to my beta T, who not only made sure that this wasn't all that horrible, but for helping me spawn ideas. I apologize for the length, but sometimes when you write you just can't stop. And I hope I've not only satisfied my giftee, but any other readers out there.
Disclaimer: The characters depicted herein belong to Shine and BBC. I make no profit from this endeavor.
Six taxies, one large flirt by a high school cheerleader and five snowy blocks of walking had made Arthur Pendragon's day more exciting than it had been in five weeks. He would have never thought that this was how his life would be at the age of twenty-one, but he had no energy or willingness to make it better. Both his parents were dead now, and he'd always been an only child. He lived in a shitty apartment in the city, where there was never any peace. Often times he'd day dream about living in a beach house in California, so that every morning he'd wake up to the glorious blue waves and warm sand. But that was just a dream—he'd never even stepped foot out of the state.
Across the street from his apartment was a small diner which was more like a coffee shop than anything; a place where he would spend most of his time when he didn't work or if he didn't like the sanctuary of home so much. Inside the diner it was warm and bright. It always smelt like pie and coffee, two things that made Arthur feel something other than cold or apathetic. Gwen was working that night, which made Arthur smile. He'd known her since they were just kids, and even though they weren't great friends, it was nice to have someone familiar to talk to. He waved at her, and she waved back, a tad busy with taking orders. Arthur took his usual spot on a bar stool. Sitting at the large, long counter, he gave his order to another waitress. The diner was designed with reds and blacks, along with a few whites. It was supposed to be classy, but in the end it was sort of old and the wallpaper was beginning to roll off the walls.
He glanced around as he sipped his coffee, seeing what other regulars had made this their home tonight. Mr. Jacobson sat near a window, eating a bowl of soup and reading a newspaper from last Sunday. Jenna Sorensen was with her co-worker/crush at a booth, making obvious moves on him—sadly for her, he was not reciprocating. There were a few more faces he recognized but didn't know anything about. Out of everyone, there was only one person who, in a way, didn't belong.
Three stools away sat a boy in a large, puffy black coat, along with a black beanie and gloves sticking out of the pockets. He kept his face over his cup of coffee, the steam warming up his pink cheeks. His jeans were dirty and had a few holes in them, and his brown boots were wet. He looked exhausted. He had a Nike sports bag, which was probably full of clothes and other objects, on the ground beside him. There was something different about him, and it bothered Arthur that he couldn't figure it out. Gwen walked behind the counter and stopped in front of Arthur, sliding over his apple pie.
"How was your day?" she asked him. He tore his gaze away from the strange guy and smiled at her.
Grabbing a fork and stabbing his treat, he answered, "Same as always: boring."
"Same here," she replied. The two then settled into silence. They never had much to talk about.
"Um, excuse me," the boy next to Arthur spoke. Gwen turned her attention to him. "Where is your bathroom at?" He had a British accent and spoke with sincerity and kindness. Arthur hardly heard a nice tone come out of anybody lately.
"Right back there," Gwen said as she pointed near the back exit. He thanked her and walked past the two. Arthur watched him the entire time, still trying to figure out why he seemed different.
"Poor kid," the waitress mumbled. Arthur pulled a distraught look and turned back to Gwen, questions all over his face.
"Poor kid? Why poor kid?" he asked, his voice rather loud. Gwen told him to shut up with her eyes and she leaned in, her elbows resting on the counter.
"He's homeless, Arthur. He could hardly afford the coffee. Actually, he couldn't—but I didn't tell him that. I paid for most of it behind his back."
"Oh.Poor kid," Arthur mimicked. The boy returned to his spot a few minutes after, looking a little more refreshed. He was no longer wearing his beanie and his black hair was wet down. Arthur watched as a drop of water ran down his forehead and landed onto the counter. Poor kid, he repeated in his head. Arthur finished up his pie and stuck his hand in his pocket, paying for his small meal as he got ready to leave. He saw the boy eyeing the money and felt suddenly bad.
"Already leaving?" Gwen asked. Arthur nodded and smiled at her.
"I'll see you tomorrow."
"Night, Arthur," she said.
"Night."
As Arthur began to walk for the doors he put his hand in his pocket and pulled out all the money he had in it, placing it in the pocket of the bag on the ground, trying to make it look like he was picking up some spare change so the boy wouldn't suspect anything. He tried to be swift and careful about it. He slipped on his own coat as he stepped out into the snow. At the end of the curb he watched the cars drive past, waiting for his chance to cross the street and go home.
"Hey!" he heard a voice shout. He glanced behind his shoulder and noticed the homeless boy walking towards him. Arthur turned fully to face the guy.
"I don't need your money," the boy said, his accent thick and angry as he shoved his hand into Arthur's chest. Arthur put his hands where the boy's was, feeling the paper against his palms.
"I just…" Arthur began.
"I know. You feel sorry for me. Everyone feels sorry for me. Even I feel sorry for me, but I don't want your money."
"Look, you need the money. And I'm trusting that you won't use it to buy booze or drugs. Use it for food." Arthur tried to give the money back but the boy refused it.
"I'm not taking your money." For a split second Arthur felt like ripping the guy's head off and forcing him to take the money, but instead he said whatever and turned around, planning to head home. He stepped onto the wet road—he didn't even look. There was a honking noise and a set of bright lights illuminated his body.
"Watch out!" screamed the boy. Arthur looked back, not wanting to look at the incoming car. The boy had his hand out and his eyes glowed momentarily. The tires of the car heading toward Arthur exploded, causing what should have been an immediate halt. Arthur jumped at the noise and large fire. Even though the car had no more tires, it was still coming after him. He made a motion to move but instead the bumper rammed into his legs, causing him to fall over and bang his head onto the hard asphalt.
-:-
Right away Arthur knew he was in a hospital, just by the too clean smell and cryptic quiet. He could feel the bright light burning through his closed eyelids and he really dreaded opening them, but he needed to go home. There was just one thing bothering him: he had no idea why he was in a hospital. He didn't have any appointments set up and his amateur job of cleaning carpets and painting walls and fixing roofs shouldn't have put him in the hospital, even though he did once almost fall off a roof, but that was just an accident. Besides that, he hadn't worked on roofing for nearly two months.
The only way he was going to get answers would be to wake up and ask someone. He hated that. He sighed loudly and was surprised to see a face standing over his. It was a nurse, who was far too excited to know that a patient was awake.
"Oh, goodie, you're alive and well!" she cheered.
"Well, if I was dead then I sure wouldn't have woken up, would I?" Arthur had most definitely woken up on the wrong side of the bed.
"Right." The raven haired nurse grimaced. "Do you remember anything that happened?" Arthur was about to open his mouth but he heard a noise to his left. He snapped his eyes to the body there, surprised to see a vaguely familiar face.
"How long has he been there?" Arthur asked, motioning to the sleeping boy.
"Since you arrived four hours ago. We said that he needed to leave, but he's a stubborn little thing. A friend of yours?" The woman with large green eyes smiled, probably glad that Arthur wasn't going to bite her head off.
Arthur's eyes narrowed. "Uh, no. I don't even know his name…"
"Well, he was there when the ambulance arrived, and he's been by your side while you were unconscious." Arthur wanted to ask more questions about the mysterious boy from the diner, but honestly, it was time to be selfish.
"What happened to me? I remember eating pie and drinking coffee and wanting to go home…then I woke up here."
"You were hit by a car, sweetheart. It knocked right into you and you bonked your pretty little head. You received a concussion and a few sprained ribs. You might have experienced some memory loss. But all in all, you're alive and you'll do just fine." Arthur detested this woman. He usually hated nurses or people who tried to be overly nice. People who used nicknames and fake smiles.
"Since I'm fine, then I guess I can go home." He already knew the answer to that.
"Not for a bit."
"Of course." Arthur sighed and closed his eyes, silently fuming as he waited for the nurse to go away and a doctor to come in, to tell him what he should do and shouldn't. Then he could go home. He just wanted to go home.
Eventually Arthur fell asleep once more, but was woken up by the same chirpy nurse.
"Sorry," she began, "but we've gotta keep you awake." His bed was lifted up so he was in a sitting position. He glanced over at the boy, who had his eyes wide open now.
"What are you doing here?" he asked once the nurse had left the room. The boy sat up a bit and brushed his palms against his knees, an awkward smile on his face. His large puffy coat was behind his back and one of his boots was untied. He was wearing a blue sweater that had a few tears in it; underneath that, Arthur could see bits of a white t-shirt. The boy scratched his head, which no longer sported the beanie he had been wearing.
"I don't really know," the dark haired boy replied in his British accent, a laugh soon following.
"I just felt that I owed it to you."
"And why is this?"
"I'm the reason you got hit in the first place."
Arthur laughed. "I don't remember getting hit. I think you've just received a free ‘get out of jail' card."
He shook his head. "I just told you that I was the reason you got hit; you can't tell me that I'm free to walk."
"Look, I have no clue who you are, and honestly I don't care to. You can leave now. I'm a big boy; I can take care of myself."
"But…" the boy started. His dark blue eyes looked away from Arthur, a frown imprinted on his lips.
"But what?" Arthur questioned. The boy looked up.
"But I don't want to leave." Arthur wanted to laugh or swear at the kid, but for some reason he couldn't find it in his heart to do so. This guy was sincere. There was something in his eyes, a look of hope.
"What's your name?"
The boy smiled. "Merlin."
"How long have you been on the streets?"
Merlin thought about it. "For almost a year, I s'pose."
"Why? Home problems or…other things?" Arthur was trying his best to be sensitive.
"Uh…home. I ran away," Merlin said, looking ashamed. Arthur opened his mouth to ask more questions, but he realized he shouldn't care. This was just a kid who made a life decision. It wasn't his business. It wasn't interesting.
The silence following was awkward and uncomfortable, but both the boys sat there for almost twenty minutes before Arthur was released. As he got dressed and signed some papers, he turned to Merlin, who was getting ready to go out into the snow and find a place to sleep for the next while.
Don't do it Arthur thought to himself as his legs carried him to the boy. He was tying his loose shoelace. You'll regret it. Just go home and you'll never see this guy again. Merlin looked up at the sound of feet stopping beside him. His eyes lit up when he noticed that it was Arthur, but he quickly frowned.
"Hey," Arthur said. Merlin stood up from his kneeling position and pulled the bag over his shoulder.
"Hey," he replied.
"I'm a heavy sleeper and I've heard that I snore."
Merlin raised an eyebrow. "Okay…?"
"I also hate it when someone drinks out of the carton and doesn't rinse off plates after they've finished eating. Get what I'm saying?" Arthur stared deeply into Merlin's eyes, trying to somehow put thoughts into Merlin's head.
"I think so…" The boy was still a bit clueless.
"There's only one room, so you'll have to take the couch."
"Oh." A large smiled appeared on Merlin's face, his blue eyes lighting up again. "You're inviting me to stay with you!"
Arthur glared. "Yes, don't make a big deal out of it." Merlin obviously looked amazed.
"Why—why would—I just can't believe—really?"
"You look as if I've made you president…or in your case, Prime Minister. Get your things."
Arthur smiled as he walked out the doors, hearing Merlin race after him.
-:-
"Well, this is lovely." Merlin glanced at the stained walls, frowning at the sound of a screaming baby. "Smell's unique."
"Shut up. It's the best I can afford." Arthur scrutinized his place, knowing just how horrible it was. But that didn't mean he could let other people hate on it, too.
"Besides," he began, "you have no room to talk."
"I know, I know." Merlin laughed and wiped at his chin, only spreading the dirt around.
"The bathroom is down the hall. Try not to use all my shampoo," Arthur said, smiling. Merlin laughed again and pulled off his beanie, running a hand through the grime in his hair. Arthur walked into the kitchen and pulled out a carton of milk, watching as Merlin made his way to the bathroom. Just before he disappeared into the Utopia that was a warm shower, he stopped and looked at Arthur.
"Thank you," he said. His thanks were for more than just the shower.
Arthur nodded his head and got two glasses out of the cupboard.
-:-
If you had told Arthur five years ago that he'd be letting a homeless boy stay with him, he'd say you were crazy. He'd say you were crazy and probably punch you in the face. But it would be true—it was true. Arthur Pendragon, a cold hearted twenty-one year old who lived on his own and treated the world like a pariah, was giving a boy who had nothing at all a temporary home. He questioned himself on whether he'd gone mad or not, but that wasn't it. Merlin kept saying how he owed it to Arthur every time Arthur did something nice for Merlin: food, money, coffee, a bed, new clothes. But Arthur didn't see it that way. He felt as if he owed Merlin everything. He couldn't figure that reason out, but deep down in his heart he knew Merlin deserved the best.
He wasn't even sure if he liked the kid completely.
Both the boys were sitting at the diner across the street. They were eating lunch and Arthur was trying to get Gwen to give Merlin a job, but she wasn't sure if she could convince her boss. Merlin was keeping his mouth shut, occasionally saying something about him getting a job on his own elsewhere.
"Merlin, shut up. This place is great. Good food, warmth, pretty nice customers. Plus it's right across the street from the apartment. This is a dream job."
"It sounds like your dream job," the British boy said.
Arthur sighed. "Exactly," he said so quietly that only he heard it.
"Arthur?"
"Yeah?"
"That night you got hit by that car…how much do you remember?" Arthur glanced up at Merlin, meeting a set of concerned eyes. He took a sip of his soda and thought about that night, only coming up with blurs.
"I honestly don't remember a thing," he said. Merlin nodded his head, as if he was saying that he understood. Arthur watched him as the boy ate his hamburger. His hands were shaking and his eyes stared out the window, clearly wanting to see anything but what was in front of him.
"Why?"
"Hmm?" Merlin looked at Arthur then.
"Why do you ask?"
"Oh, no reason."
Arthur glared. "I don't believe you."
"I don't care," Merlin replied. Arthur smiled at the snark.
Once the boys finished their lunch they headed back to the apartment, making sure to watch for cars as they crossed the busy street.
"I'm good at piano," Merlin suddenly said as they stepped into Arthur's place. He looked at Merlin in question. "I'm also really good at art. And I was once captain of my football team, er, I mean soccer." Merlin was trying his hardest to turn some of his British lingo into American. Every time he called the elevator a lift someone looked at him like he was nuts.
"That's nice," Arthur stated. "And I care why?"
"Maybe I could get a job doing something with the skills I've achieved." Both the boys moved to the couch and Arthur battled channel surfing with listening to Merlin.
"I'm sure you could apply for things, but without some form of school degree or proof that you graduated school you're not going to get much. We're in a recession." Merlin sighed and turned his attention to the TV. A few moments later he was opening his mouth again.
"What about you? Any hobbies?"
Arthur looked at Merlin and snorted.
"I guess that answers my question," Merlin mumbled.
"You catch on fast. Maybe you should add that to your skill list."
"Maybe." Merlin got up off the couch and reached for his coat.
"Where are you going?" asked Arthur.
"I'm going to go find a job, care to join me?"
"Nope, I've already got one."
"If you call painting walls a job, then so be it. See ya later," Merlin said as he headed out the door. Arthur glared at the television screen.
-:-
It was one in the morning and Merlin hadn't returned. Arthur knew he shouldn't be worried, but he couldn't help it. New York City was a sketchy place and there were many scenarios where something could have gone wrong. He should have been asleep since he'd have to wake up at five and go to work, but he wasn't tired. He sat in his bed and listened over the loud cars and neighbors, trying to hear the front door open. But there was nothing. Arthur was going insane, and he really didn't know why. The only thing he could assume was that he cared about Merlin's well being.
"I've only known the kid for three days," he said to himself. "And I don't even know anything about him!" It was true. Merlin didn't open up to Arthur, and Arthur responded in kind. Both the boys were strangers living together. "I'm such an idiot." Suddenly the sound of someone trying to open a door was heard. Arthur jumped off his bed and jogged to the front door, unlocking it and letting Merlin brush past him.
"Christ, it's freezing out there," he said. He smiled at Arthur and zipped off his coat, breathing into his hands afterwards.
"Where've you been?" Arthur asked loudly. Merlin looked at him, blinking.
"Trying to find a job…" He said it like a teenager talking back to his father would.
Arthur felt like a father. "Yeah, nearly ten hours ago; it's fucking two in the morning now!" Merlin slipped off his shoes as he got on the couch. "Where were you?"
"Does it matter?" he scoffed.
"Yes." Arthur put his hands on his sides.
"That's my business. I'd appreciate it if you'd stay out." Merlin glared back, his rage suddenly meeting up with Arthur's.
"And this is my place. I'd appreciate it if maybe you'd say something every once in awhile."
"If I told you, you wouldn't even care." Arthur ignored the nonchalant tone.
"I still have a right to know!"
Merlin stood up and threw his arms in the air. "I was off practicing magic, is that a sufficient answer for you?"
"Don't lie to me, Merlin. It's getting harder to let you live here when you talk with bullshit coming out of your mouth."
Merlin laughed. "Bullshit, right."
"How long do you plan on staying?" This question caught Merlin off guard.
"I—I…" He didn't have an answer.
Arthur rolled his eyes and walked to his room, slamming the door behind him. He climbed into his bed and stared at the ceiling, grinding his teeth as he tried to let the anger wear off. He shouldn't have been angry. He shouldn't have cared so much. He shouldn't even be letting this boy live with him. Arthur had always been rejecting life and people, and now that he was suddenly caring about both of that he found himself lost. It's easy to understand how one feels about things. For Arthur it was becoming more and more complicated. He liked Merlin…a lot, and it irritated him that he couldn't find a sufficient answer as to why.
Eventually sleep was the next thing Arthur felt, but to his delight, which wasn't that delightful at all, he was awake much sooner than he had wanted. Groggily he got out of bed and wandered to the bathroom, getting himself ready for the day. He'd give anything to be a retired old man, but he was many, many years away from that. When he finished all of his morning rituals he headed into the kitchen, slightly shocked to see Merlin there. It wasn't like it should have been shocking, but it was. He'd made a quick breakfast and was looking nervous as Arthur stood on the opposite side of the counter.
"I know you usually eat at the diner, but I thought I'd try to say sorry."
"That's very kind of you," Arthur whispered.
Merlin smiled and a shook a hand through his hair. "Yeah, I was a total twat."
Arthur smiled in return and sat down at the small table tucked in the corner. "You, a twat? Maybe. But I think it's me who should be apologizing."
"Whatever for?" Merlin replied sarcastically, taking a seat next to him. The boys picked up their forks and knives and began to eat. A minute in Merlin said, "I'm shocked you even had any utensils or dishes."
"Did you think I ate off the floor or something? Like a dog?"
"A little, yeah." Both of them laughed until the sounds of metal touching plastic was all that remained in the silent air. It was peaceful to Arthur. Almost like being at the diner minus the smell and early morning talks. He could get used to not eating there anymore.
"Merlin," Arthur started.
"Yep?" replied Merlin. Arthur sighed and put his objects down, looking across at the other face who seemed preoccupied in his breakfast. When Arthur didn't speak Merlin looked back, shocked to see someone staring so intently at him.
"What is it, Arthur?"
"I'm sorry for how I acted last night. I'm not quite positive what came over me, but I honestly didn't mean to be such an ass."
"It's fine. You had every right to be mad, what with me acting like I own the place. Coming in at two in the morning! What was that?" Merlin laughed at himself, but Arthur only smiled.
"Merlin, I know I'm just being nosey, but why were you out so late?" Merlin froze. He stopped chewing and cutting, he wasn't even breathing. His blue eyes looked up at Arthur, clearly panicked. Finally he started moving again, his eyes staring down at his plate.
"Just…stuff."
"Stuff stuff…or just stuff?"
"Stuff is just stuff, isn't it?"
"There's different genres of stuff." Arthur smiled.
"Yeah, well, this genre is on a need-to-know basis." Merlin's tone was clear and harsh, letting Arthur know that he needed to back off. And he did.
-:-
Arthur unlocked his door and wasn't very surprised to see Merlin sitting on the couch.
"Hello!" he cheered loudly at Arthur's presence.
"Hey," Arthur said. "How was your day?"
"Eventful. I got a job."
Arthur raised an eyebrow. "Really? Doing what?" Merlin got off the couch and met Arthur in the kitchen, where he began to pour two glasses of orange juice.
"By day, janitor; by three thirty to five, piano tutor."
"That sounds like two jobs," Arthur said picking up a glass.
"Yeah, well…it's more than you've got."
Arthur smirked. "Ha, you got me there."
"I sure did," the British boy said.
"You know what I think?"
Merlin tilted his head to the side. "I was born a lot of things, Arthur. Mind reader wasn't one of them."
"I don't know whether to laugh or punch you in the face."
"Both would suffice, though I bruise easily, so I choose laughing." And Arthur did. Both did. For a short minute the two snorted and smiled, loud noises coming from them.
"What do you think?" Merlin asked.
Arthur quieted his laughter. "I think we should go celebrate your recent employment."
"I can't drink…legally."
"Right, nineteen. Well, how ‘bout I drink for the two of us?"
"How about we go someplace where I can be a free man?"
"Fine. We'll go to a club," Arthur responded, getting up from the table.
"A club? No."
"Hey, I'm the one who suggested we celebrate."
"I'm the one the celebration is about. We'll go where I want."
Arthur sighed. "Alright."
-:-
"Central Park? This is your idea of celebrating?"
"My family used to celebrate weekly. Do you know what it's like to have a big family? They make me mental—the whole lot." Arthur kept silent on their trek through the darkening park. "For me celebration is peace and quiet. A beautiful place…a nice stroll…a friend." Merlin was staring at Arthur the entire time. He hoped he'd stare back, but Arthur continued to keep his eyes away from the body next to his.
"What's wrong?" Merlin asked.
Arthur glanced at Merlin, then looked away. "Nothing."
"You're awfully quiet."
"I guess I don't have much to say."
"You seem sad," Merlin guessed. Arthur ignored him and stared at the tree.
"You don't have to say anything," Merlin began, "but if you want to talk, my ears are open."
"That's good. I think there'd be something severely wrong if your ears weren't open."
"Looks like you're cheering up." Arthur smiled. "Can't we go do something better?"
"Yeah, of course, I just wanted to say something to you."
Arthur stopped and looked at Merlin. "Well…say it."
Merlin cleared his throat and stuck his hands in his coat pockets. "I just wanted to say thank you for all that you've done. For letting me stay with you and putting up with me. It's a rarity that someone has generous as you would just so happen to walk into my life."
"You walked into mine, Merlin. And no offense, but I don't want your thanks."
"Why not?" he asked.
"Because I'm not generous. I'm a selfish dick who hates everyone…and everyone hates me."
"And why do you say this?"
Arthur exhaled. "Because it's always been like this. Since I was a kid I've been…alone. And that's mostly because I liked it that way."
Merlin shook his head. "No, you don't. You don't like to be alone, you just put up with it."
"Maybe. All I know is that I'm not a great guy, Merlin."
"If you weren't a great guy I wouldn't have of even saved your—" He stopped himself there.
"Saved my what?" Arthur pressured.
"Nothing. Um. Look, you're a great guy and whether you like it or not I'm saying thanks."
"You saved my what, Merlin?"
Merlin shook his head.
"Tell me," Arthur ordered, giving Merlin a slight shove. Merlin fell back a little, smiling as he stilled himself. "Please?"
"I saved…yourself…from having to be alone," Merlin replied suddenly. Arthur knew he was just covering up whatever happened to be the truth, but in another sense this was the truth. Arthur was struck with a sudden realization that his eyes welled up and his jaw dropped.
"Whoa, Arthur…Are you okay? Did I say something? I'm sorry, it's just…" Merlin panicked as Arthur's expression changed multiple times.
"I'm finally getting it," he said to himself.
"What?" asked Merlin. Arthur laughed momentarily, then he did something that shocked both of them. He grabbed Merlin's arm and pulled him in closer, their bodies not an inch apart. Arthur's lips pressed themselves against Merlin's. Merlin gasped as much as he could, but before he knew it he was kissing Arthur back. Soon after, the two separated.
"Umm," came from the pink-cheeked and eared boy.
"Can we go celebrate for real now? Gwen's having a party for some reason or another. I totally forgot until just now."
Merlin nodded his head. "Sure, yeah, let's go celebrate the right way."
-:-
"Careful," Merlin said as Arthur dropped down to the snowy ground. Arthur waved a hand absently and sat up to take a sip of his cup.
"I'm perfectly fine, Merlin."
"Yeah," Merlin laughed, "you're not drunk at all."
"Of course not! Unlike you. You do know that that punch you're drinking has been spiked," Arthur said.
"Yes, I've realized this. And who would ever do such a thing?"
Arthur looked innocent. "You aren't accusing me, are you? Because if you are…I'll…I'll." Arthur grabbed a handful of snow and tossed it in Merlin's direction, causing it to brush his knees.
"Oh, no! Not snow thrown poorly at my knees! Anything but that!"
"Shut up, drunk," he mumbled. Merlin laughed again and laid down beside him, wrinkling his nose as little white flurries fell onto his face.
"What do you think about the snow?"
Arthur sighed and sat up, taking another drink. "I'dunno. Snow is snow. I've never really thought about it before. It's kinda like…sometimes it's sunny, sometimes it's gloomy…sometimes it's night and sometimes it's day. I just deal, ya know?"
"I don't like it, but like you, I deal with it."
"Would you rather live in California or Florida? Maybe Hawaii?" asked Arthur.
"Yeah, that'd be nice. What about you?"
"Nah. I've lived in New York all my life. I'm fine here."
Merlin sighed and took a drink out of his spiked punch.
"Merlin?"
"Yeah?"
"Do you think that I'm a dick?"
"Well, we all can be a little mean," Merlin slowly said.
"I'm not asking about everyone. Me. Am I a dick?" Arthur growled.
"What does it matter if you are? I thought you didn't care?"
"Do I come across as uncaring?"
"No…no…not at all," Merlin lied. Poorly. Even buzzed and on the edge of being drunk, Arthur could read Merlin like an open book.
Arthur sat up and turned his attention to the boy next to him. "It's amazing how some people lie these days."
"What?" Merlin got up on his elbows. "I'm not lying," he lied again.
"Yes, you are. I'm not stupid, Merlin. I know when people are lying and you are one of the worst liars I've ever met."
"Arthur, what's on your mind?" Merlin sat up so his shoulder was touching Arthur's. Even though the boys had been drinking, they were slowly getting sober. It was Merlin's idea to make sure Arthur didn't drink too much, after all he had no idea what his new mate was like when he was pissed.
Arthur let out a deep breath and fog came out of his mouth. He sniffled and rubbed his hands against his knees, as if he was trying to keep himself busy from talking. Merlin gave him a little shove of encouragement.
"I don't talk a lot about stuff…and I really don't trust people. Sometimes," he stopped himself for a moment, "sometimes I just want to go up to a stranger and tell them everything that's on my mind."
"I could be a stranger," Merlin mumbled.
Arthur smiled. "You already are, Merlin. And I think that's why I like you so much. You don't know me…I don't know you. If I fuck up it won't matter in the end. Any day you could just disappear, and it really wouldn't matter what I had done or not."
Arthur drank the rest of his beer and tossed the cup into a snow covered bush.
"It's like when you're at a public place. There're all these people that you've never seen before and that you don't know. You can judge them and listen in on their conversations, you can smile and say excuse me…you can get mad at them and take your day out on them…but once you're home it doesn't matter because it's done with. And then it's different when it's someone you know. You can do all those things but you're going to remember it...and so are they. It's like for the rest of your life that's one thing you won't be able to move on from."
"You're talking about guilt," Merlin stated.
"Yeah. Guilt. I hate it, so I try to avoid it…always."
"That's why I left home," Merlin muttered.
"What do you mean?" Arthur asked, immediately intrigued.
"I did something…and I couldn't face the effects it had on my loved ones. So I ran away from it."
Arthur laughed one loud, disrupting chuckle. Merlin looked hurt but tried to hide it with confusion.
"I honestly wish I could run away like you can," Arthur explained.
"It's not the easy solution, Arthur," Merlin said harshly.
"I know, I know. It's just…I can't hide from my problems. Not completely."
"What are your problems?"
Arthur looked down and saw that his fingers were turning pink. It was getting colder out, even though the snow had stopped falling. He sniffled and sighed.
"My parents died…" he started. But he couldn't finish.
"I'm so sorry," Merlin whispered. Arthur shrugged.
"How…how did it happen?" Merlin asked, awkwardly pulling on his beanie.
"Uh, 9/11." Nothing needed to be said after that.
"I'm sorry," Merlin repeated.
"Me too," Arthur breathed. "I moved on, though. It was easy."
"Was it?"
"No." Arthur smiled at his correct answer. That was the first time he admitted any truth. Merlin leaned into Arthur's shoulder. It was to show support, but Arthur didn't see it that way. He pressed back and put his head on Merlin's shoulder.
"You're warm," he said.
Merlin smiled. "I usually am."
"I'm glad."
"Me too." Arthur closed his eyes and smiled wider as Merlin put his arms around him. Both the boys were in a wonderful peace. The booze kept their insides warm as their bodies kept their outsides warm, as well. They could hear the bass of music coming from the house behind, which was full of friends of Gwen. It wasn't annoying or intrusive, just noise that got blocked out.
"Arthur, can I trust you?" Merlin mumbled.
"Mhmm." Arthur nodded his head, seeming more like a nuzzle against Merlin's arm.
"I want to tell you the reason I ran away, but I'm scared."
"Why?"
"Because it's not normal."
"You're not normal," Arthur said, his voice coated in sleep.
Merlin smiled. "No, I'm not."
The two sat on the cold ground, their butts getting wet and their cheeks transforming into shades of little roses, but neither cared. For once in his life, Arthur felt secure and happy. He liked this—being in the arms of another. He hadn't been hugged in years. He remembered the last time. It was at his parents' funeral. His uncle, a man that Arthur detested, was trying his hardest to comfort the young boy who couldn't even allow himself to feel a single emotion. The older man had put an awkward arm around the lanky boy. Arthur had accepted the hug, but unwillingly. All he'd wanted was to be left alone. The realization made him laugh in despair.
"What is it?"
He shook his head. "Nothing."
Arthur wrapped his arms around Merlin, making sure he had a strong grip on him. Merlin squeezed back, smiling at the tickle of Arthur's warm breath on his neck.
"I want to show you something," Merlin said then.
"Oh?" Arthur asked, his tone playful.
"Shut up," the boy breathed. "Honestly, though, I want to show you something…the reason why I ran away."
"Oh." This time Arthur was serious. He pulled himself away from Merlin, his body aching from the lack of warmth. Merlin stood up and Arthur followed his lead, shoving his hands in his pockets and looking about. The party was dying down, but the few that had gotten drunk were planning to stay that way.
"So," Arthur began, "are you going to show me or what? Or do you have secret place for secret things?"
"Well, it is secret…but I think we can make a secret place. Like," Merlin looked around, his eyes roaming towards the side of the house, "there! Come on!" Merlin grabbed Arthur's hand, dragging him to the side of the house.
"Ready?" Merlin asked.
"Not really. I'm freezing my ass off."
Suddenly then, a spark of light casted off Merlin and then disappeared. There was another spark on the ground, causing Arthur to jump. The spark grew brighter and warmer, transforming into a small fire.
"That should keep you warm," the boy said.
"Wh? How? Did? Um." Arthur searched for words but found none. At least until the fire started to melt the snow and grow larger, heading for the two pairs of dark boots. "Ah! Fire!" Arthur began to stomp on the orange flames, his arms flailing in the air and his legs jumping up and down, relaxing as the fire disappeared completely.
"That was weird," Arthur muttered.
Merlin stared at him, unblinking.
"What?" Arthur asked loudly.
"You seriously believe that a fire just appeared out of nowhere?"
Arthur shrugged. "I don't know how fire works."
Another flicker of light came from Merlin, and then on the ground again. A second fire rose from the dry dirt—nothing to feed the flames.
"Take another guess, Arthur," Merlin growled. Arthur looked up at Merlin, whose eyes were glowing a brilliant gold. A familiar gold. He'd seen them before…but where?
"I've seen this before…I…" It was on the tip of his tongue, but Merlin spilled all the secrets.
"The night you got hit by the car. It would have been way worse if the tires didn't blow up, and I made them blow up. I used magic. I saved your life."
Arthur shook his head. None of this was possible.
"It's true," Merlin said, his eyes going back to a blue. But all the light was gone, so it was just two boys in the shadows.
"Magic isn't real, Merlin," Arthur stated.
"What's your favorite color?" asked Merlin.
"What does that have to do with—"
"Just answer."
"Blue, but I still don't see—"
"Shut. Up."
Merlin's eyes lit up again and his hands matched the light. It was dark again, and Merlin held up what looked like a flower.
"You picked that from Gwen's garden," said Arthur.
"It's winter. And besides, Gwen doesn't have a garden."
Arthur knew all this, but he just didn't want to believe the object in Merlin's hand was a flower. Sure, he could have gotten it from somewhere else, but it was fresh. It was a brand new blue flower, at least he figured it was blue (it was too dark to really tell), that had yet to taste the ground. But magic isn't real, Arthur said mentally.
"I have magic," Merlin said, almost as surprised as Arthur was.
"Magic's not real."
"I know, but it is for me."
"So, when you said you were practicing magic that one time?"
"I wasn't lying."
Arthur stared at Merlin deeply, hardly able to decode his emotions. Merlin was sharing a secret with Arthur, but he didn't want to know. Magic wasn't real, and that was that.
"Magic's not real," Arthur muttered once again, turning his back on his newest and only friend. He ran inside the house and headed for the table that held all the food and beverages. But he wasn't hungry, or thirsty…he was just empty. He filled a red plastic cup with the spiked punch, adding more vodka to his portion. Merlin never came inside. Arthur went through three cups before he decided he'd just take the whole bottle and hide in a bedroom upstairs.
He'd plan to stay in Gwen's room, but he found her in there, along with another man. He silently closed the door and made his way to another room, but found it occupied; the rest of the rooms were like this, too. Instead he shut himself inside a hallway closet, getting lost in coats and shoes. There he drank and thought about Merlin, a boy he hoped would be ordinary. That's really all Arthur was looking for. Someone simple who lived an ominous life—like him. But then Arthur realized that he didn't want someone who lived a life like him; he didn't like his own life, why would he like someone with a similar one? Merlin's life was pretty exciting and different. He lived in England his whole life, and then suddenly he moves to a different country where he knows no one and has no place to live. Arthur could never do that, but a part of him wouldn't mind if he did. To have the freedom and not have your name to anything; to just be able to decide that you're tired of one place and go to another without any thought or hesitation.
As the clear, fiery liquid washed down Arthur's throat, his thoughts got hazier, but clearer. He replayed what happened outside; the coldness, the warmth from Merlin's body, how he felt wrapped in his arms, how happy he was. He recalled the brightness from Merlin's eyes to his hands, to the ground below them. The fire couldn't have been planned as a trick—it was genuinely real. Though, magic wasn't real: this was the issue. Arthur believed in magic tricks and optical illusions, but not the kind of magic that you'd see in a Harry Potter film. But right now, he wasn't going to deny what he saw, he was going to embrace the possibilities of the impossible happening. Could Merlin have magic? That was the real question. Should I be scared? he asked mentally.
next
Recipient:
amythystluna Author:
dollop_headRating: NC-17
Pairings: Merlin/Arthur
Word Count: 13,000
Warnings: Swear words, NC-17 sex, and mediocre attempts at humor.
Summary: Arthur Pendragon has lived his whole life in New York City; it's boring and ordinary, and he can't connect with any of the people that live there. But when his life is saved mysteriously by a homeless boy he realizes that there is more to see in the world, but only if you're willing to take a chance to open your eyes.
Author's Notes: Many, many thanks to my beta T, who not only made sure that this wasn't all that horrible, but for helping me spawn ideas. I apologize for the length, but sometimes when you write you just can't stop. And I hope I've not only satisfied my giftee, but any other readers out there.
Disclaimer: The characters depicted herein belong to Shine and BBC. I make no profit from this endeavor.
Six taxies, one large flirt by a high school cheerleader and five snowy blocks of walking had made Arthur Pendragon's day more exciting than it had been in five weeks. He would have never thought that this was how his life would be at the age of twenty-one, but he had no energy or willingness to make it better. Both his parents were dead now, and he'd always been an only child. He lived in a shitty apartment in the city, where there was never any peace. Often times he'd day dream about living in a beach house in California, so that every morning he'd wake up to the glorious blue waves and warm sand. But that was just a dream—he'd never even stepped foot out of the state.
Across the street from his apartment was a small diner which was more like a coffee shop than anything; a place where he would spend most of his time when he didn't work or if he didn't like the sanctuary of home so much. Inside the diner it was warm and bright. It always smelt like pie and coffee, two things that made Arthur feel something other than cold or apathetic. Gwen was working that night, which made Arthur smile. He'd known her since they were just kids, and even though they weren't great friends, it was nice to have someone familiar to talk to. He waved at her, and she waved back, a tad busy with taking orders. Arthur took his usual spot on a bar stool. Sitting at the large, long counter, he gave his order to another waitress. The diner was designed with reds and blacks, along with a few whites. It was supposed to be classy, but in the end it was sort of old and the wallpaper was beginning to roll off the walls.
He glanced around as he sipped his coffee, seeing what other regulars had made this their home tonight. Mr. Jacobson sat near a window, eating a bowl of soup and reading a newspaper from last Sunday. Jenna Sorensen was with her co-worker/crush at a booth, making obvious moves on him—sadly for her, he was not reciprocating. There were a few more faces he recognized but didn't know anything about. Out of everyone, there was only one person who, in a way, didn't belong.
Three stools away sat a boy in a large, puffy black coat, along with a black beanie and gloves sticking out of the pockets. He kept his face over his cup of coffee, the steam warming up his pink cheeks. His jeans were dirty and had a few holes in them, and his brown boots were wet. He looked exhausted. He had a Nike sports bag, which was probably full of clothes and other objects, on the ground beside him. There was something different about him, and it bothered Arthur that he couldn't figure it out. Gwen walked behind the counter and stopped in front of Arthur, sliding over his apple pie.
"How was your day?" she asked him. He tore his gaze away from the strange guy and smiled at her.
Grabbing a fork and stabbing his treat, he answered, "Same as always: boring."
"Same here," she replied. The two then settled into silence. They never had much to talk about.
"Um, excuse me," the boy next to Arthur spoke. Gwen turned her attention to him. "Where is your bathroom at?" He had a British accent and spoke with sincerity and kindness. Arthur hardly heard a nice tone come out of anybody lately.
"Right back there," Gwen said as she pointed near the back exit. He thanked her and walked past the two. Arthur watched him the entire time, still trying to figure out why he seemed different.
"Poor kid," the waitress mumbled. Arthur pulled a distraught look and turned back to Gwen, questions all over his face.
"Poor kid? Why poor kid?" he asked, his voice rather loud. Gwen told him to shut up with her eyes and she leaned in, her elbows resting on the counter.
"He's homeless, Arthur. He could hardly afford the coffee. Actually, he couldn't—but I didn't tell him that. I paid for most of it behind his back."
"Oh.Poor kid," Arthur mimicked. The boy returned to his spot a few minutes after, looking a little more refreshed. He was no longer wearing his beanie and his black hair was wet down. Arthur watched as a drop of water ran down his forehead and landed onto the counter. Poor kid, he repeated in his head. Arthur finished up his pie and stuck his hand in his pocket, paying for his small meal as he got ready to leave. He saw the boy eyeing the money and felt suddenly bad.
"Already leaving?" Gwen asked. Arthur nodded and smiled at her.
"I'll see you tomorrow."
"Night, Arthur," she said.
"Night."
As Arthur began to walk for the doors he put his hand in his pocket and pulled out all the money he had in it, placing it in the pocket of the bag on the ground, trying to make it look like he was picking up some spare change so the boy wouldn't suspect anything. He tried to be swift and careful about it. He slipped on his own coat as he stepped out into the snow. At the end of the curb he watched the cars drive past, waiting for his chance to cross the street and go home.
"Hey!" he heard a voice shout. He glanced behind his shoulder and noticed the homeless boy walking towards him. Arthur turned fully to face the guy.
"I don't need your money," the boy said, his accent thick and angry as he shoved his hand into Arthur's chest. Arthur put his hands where the boy's was, feeling the paper against his palms.
"I just…" Arthur began.
"I know. You feel sorry for me. Everyone feels sorry for me. Even I feel sorry for me, but I don't want your money."
"Look, you need the money. And I'm trusting that you won't use it to buy booze or drugs. Use it for food." Arthur tried to give the money back but the boy refused it.
"I'm not taking your money." For a split second Arthur felt like ripping the guy's head off and forcing him to take the money, but instead he said whatever and turned around, planning to head home. He stepped onto the wet road—he didn't even look. There was a honking noise and a set of bright lights illuminated his body.
"Watch out!" screamed the boy. Arthur looked back, not wanting to look at the incoming car. The boy had his hand out and his eyes glowed momentarily. The tires of the car heading toward Arthur exploded, causing what should have been an immediate halt. Arthur jumped at the noise and large fire. Even though the car had no more tires, it was still coming after him. He made a motion to move but instead the bumper rammed into his legs, causing him to fall over and bang his head onto the hard asphalt.
Right away Arthur knew he was in a hospital, just by the too clean smell and cryptic quiet. He could feel the bright light burning through his closed eyelids and he really dreaded opening them, but he needed to go home. There was just one thing bothering him: he had no idea why he was in a hospital. He didn't have any appointments set up and his amateur job of cleaning carpets and painting walls and fixing roofs shouldn't have put him in the hospital, even though he did once almost fall off a roof, but that was just an accident. Besides that, he hadn't worked on roofing for nearly two months.
The only way he was going to get answers would be to wake up and ask someone. He hated that. He sighed loudly and was surprised to see a face standing over his. It was a nurse, who was far too excited to know that a patient was awake.
"Oh, goodie, you're alive and well!" she cheered.
"Well, if I was dead then I sure wouldn't have woken up, would I?" Arthur had most definitely woken up on the wrong side of the bed.
"Right." The raven haired nurse grimaced. "Do you remember anything that happened?" Arthur was about to open his mouth but he heard a noise to his left. He snapped his eyes to the body there, surprised to see a vaguely familiar face.
"How long has he been there?" Arthur asked, motioning to the sleeping boy.
"Since you arrived four hours ago. We said that he needed to leave, but he's a stubborn little thing. A friend of yours?" The woman with large green eyes smiled, probably glad that Arthur wasn't going to bite her head off.
Arthur's eyes narrowed. "Uh, no. I don't even know his name…"
"Well, he was there when the ambulance arrived, and he's been by your side while you were unconscious." Arthur wanted to ask more questions about the mysterious boy from the diner, but honestly, it was time to be selfish.
"What happened to me? I remember eating pie and drinking coffee and wanting to go home…then I woke up here."
"You were hit by a car, sweetheart. It knocked right into you and you bonked your pretty little head. You received a concussion and a few sprained ribs. You might have experienced some memory loss. But all in all, you're alive and you'll do just fine." Arthur detested this woman. He usually hated nurses or people who tried to be overly nice. People who used nicknames and fake smiles.
"Since I'm fine, then I guess I can go home." He already knew the answer to that.
"Not for a bit."
"Of course." Arthur sighed and closed his eyes, silently fuming as he waited for the nurse to go away and a doctor to come in, to tell him what he should do and shouldn't. Then he could go home. He just wanted to go home.
Eventually Arthur fell asleep once more, but was woken up by the same chirpy nurse.
"Sorry," she began, "but we've gotta keep you awake." His bed was lifted up so he was in a sitting position. He glanced over at the boy, who had his eyes wide open now.
"What are you doing here?" he asked once the nurse had left the room. The boy sat up a bit and brushed his palms against his knees, an awkward smile on his face. His large puffy coat was behind his back and one of his boots was untied. He was wearing a blue sweater that had a few tears in it; underneath that, Arthur could see bits of a white t-shirt. The boy scratched his head, which no longer sported the beanie he had been wearing.
"I don't really know," the dark haired boy replied in his British accent, a laugh soon following.
"I just felt that I owed it to you."
"And why is this?"
"I'm the reason you got hit in the first place."
Arthur laughed. "I don't remember getting hit. I think you've just received a free ‘get out of jail' card."
He shook his head. "I just told you that I was the reason you got hit; you can't tell me that I'm free to walk."
"Look, I have no clue who you are, and honestly I don't care to. You can leave now. I'm a big boy; I can take care of myself."
"But…" the boy started. His dark blue eyes looked away from Arthur, a frown imprinted on his lips.
"But what?" Arthur questioned. The boy looked up.
"But I don't want to leave." Arthur wanted to laugh or swear at the kid, but for some reason he couldn't find it in his heart to do so. This guy was sincere. There was something in his eyes, a look of hope.
"What's your name?"
The boy smiled. "Merlin."
"How long have you been on the streets?"
Merlin thought about it. "For almost a year, I s'pose."
"Why? Home problems or…other things?" Arthur was trying his best to be sensitive.
"Uh…home. I ran away," Merlin said, looking ashamed. Arthur opened his mouth to ask more questions, but he realized he shouldn't care. This was just a kid who made a life decision. It wasn't his business. It wasn't interesting.
The silence following was awkward and uncomfortable, but both the boys sat there for almost twenty minutes before Arthur was released. As he got dressed and signed some papers, he turned to Merlin, who was getting ready to go out into the snow and find a place to sleep for the next while.
Don't do it Arthur thought to himself as his legs carried him to the boy. He was tying his loose shoelace. You'll regret it. Just go home and you'll never see this guy again. Merlin looked up at the sound of feet stopping beside him. His eyes lit up when he noticed that it was Arthur, but he quickly frowned.
"Hey," Arthur said. Merlin stood up from his kneeling position and pulled the bag over his shoulder.
"Hey," he replied.
"I'm a heavy sleeper and I've heard that I snore."
Merlin raised an eyebrow. "Okay…?"
"I also hate it when someone drinks out of the carton and doesn't rinse off plates after they've finished eating. Get what I'm saying?" Arthur stared deeply into Merlin's eyes, trying to somehow put thoughts into Merlin's head.
"I think so…" The boy was still a bit clueless.
"There's only one room, so you'll have to take the couch."
"Oh." A large smiled appeared on Merlin's face, his blue eyes lighting up again. "You're inviting me to stay with you!"
Arthur glared. "Yes, don't make a big deal out of it." Merlin obviously looked amazed.
"Why—why would—I just can't believe—really?"
"You look as if I've made you president…or in your case, Prime Minister. Get your things."
Arthur smiled as he walked out the doors, hearing Merlin race after him.
"Well, this is lovely." Merlin glanced at the stained walls, frowning at the sound of a screaming baby. "Smell's unique."
"Shut up. It's the best I can afford." Arthur scrutinized his place, knowing just how horrible it was. But that didn't mean he could let other people hate on it, too.
"Besides," he began, "you have no room to talk."
"I know, I know." Merlin laughed and wiped at his chin, only spreading the dirt around.
"The bathroom is down the hall. Try not to use all my shampoo," Arthur said, smiling. Merlin laughed again and pulled off his beanie, running a hand through the grime in his hair. Arthur walked into the kitchen and pulled out a carton of milk, watching as Merlin made his way to the bathroom. Just before he disappeared into the Utopia that was a warm shower, he stopped and looked at Arthur.
"Thank you," he said. His thanks were for more than just the shower.
Arthur nodded his head and got two glasses out of the cupboard.
If you had told Arthur five years ago that he'd be letting a homeless boy stay with him, he'd say you were crazy. He'd say you were crazy and probably punch you in the face. But it would be true—it was true. Arthur Pendragon, a cold hearted twenty-one year old who lived on his own and treated the world like a pariah, was giving a boy who had nothing at all a temporary home. He questioned himself on whether he'd gone mad or not, but that wasn't it. Merlin kept saying how he owed it to Arthur every time Arthur did something nice for Merlin: food, money, coffee, a bed, new clothes. But Arthur didn't see it that way. He felt as if he owed Merlin everything. He couldn't figure that reason out, but deep down in his heart he knew Merlin deserved the best.
He wasn't even sure if he liked the kid completely.
Both the boys were sitting at the diner across the street. They were eating lunch and Arthur was trying to get Gwen to give Merlin a job, but she wasn't sure if she could convince her boss. Merlin was keeping his mouth shut, occasionally saying something about him getting a job on his own elsewhere.
"Merlin, shut up. This place is great. Good food, warmth, pretty nice customers. Plus it's right across the street from the apartment. This is a dream job."
"It sounds like your dream job," the British boy said.
Arthur sighed. "Exactly," he said so quietly that only he heard it.
"Arthur?"
"Yeah?"
"That night you got hit by that car…how much do you remember?" Arthur glanced up at Merlin, meeting a set of concerned eyes. He took a sip of his soda and thought about that night, only coming up with blurs.
"I honestly don't remember a thing," he said. Merlin nodded his head, as if he was saying that he understood. Arthur watched him as the boy ate his hamburger. His hands were shaking and his eyes stared out the window, clearly wanting to see anything but what was in front of him.
"Why?"
"Hmm?" Merlin looked at Arthur then.
"Why do you ask?"
"Oh, no reason."
Arthur glared. "I don't believe you."
"I don't care," Merlin replied. Arthur smiled at the snark.
Once the boys finished their lunch they headed back to the apartment, making sure to watch for cars as they crossed the busy street.
"I'm good at piano," Merlin suddenly said as they stepped into Arthur's place. He looked at Merlin in question. "I'm also really good at art. And I was once captain of my football team, er, I mean soccer." Merlin was trying his hardest to turn some of his British lingo into American. Every time he called the elevator a lift someone looked at him like he was nuts.
"That's nice," Arthur stated. "And I care why?"
"Maybe I could get a job doing something with the skills I've achieved." Both the boys moved to the couch and Arthur battled channel surfing with listening to Merlin.
"I'm sure you could apply for things, but without some form of school degree or proof that you graduated school you're not going to get much. We're in a recession." Merlin sighed and turned his attention to the TV. A few moments later he was opening his mouth again.
"What about you? Any hobbies?"
Arthur looked at Merlin and snorted.
"I guess that answers my question," Merlin mumbled.
"You catch on fast. Maybe you should add that to your skill list."
"Maybe." Merlin got up off the couch and reached for his coat.
"Where are you going?" asked Arthur.
"I'm going to go find a job, care to join me?"
"Nope, I've already got one."
"If you call painting walls a job, then so be it. See ya later," Merlin said as he headed out the door. Arthur glared at the television screen.
It was one in the morning and Merlin hadn't returned. Arthur knew he shouldn't be worried, but he couldn't help it. New York City was a sketchy place and there were many scenarios where something could have gone wrong. He should have been asleep since he'd have to wake up at five and go to work, but he wasn't tired. He sat in his bed and listened over the loud cars and neighbors, trying to hear the front door open. But there was nothing. Arthur was going insane, and he really didn't know why. The only thing he could assume was that he cared about Merlin's well being.
"I've only known the kid for three days," he said to himself. "And I don't even know anything about him!" It was true. Merlin didn't open up to Arthur, and Arthur responded in kind. Both the boys were strangers living together. "I'm such an idiot." Suddenly the sound of someone trying to open a door was heard. Arthur jumped off his bed and jogged to the front door, unlocking it and letting Merlin brush past him.
"Christ, it's freezing out there," he said. He smiled at Arthur and zipped off his coat, breathing into his hands afterwards.
"Where've you been?" Arthur asked loudly. Merlin looked at him, blinking.
"Trying to find a job…" He said it like a teenager talking back to his father would.
Arthur felt like a father. "Yeah, nearly ten hours ago; it's fucking two in the morning now!" Merlin slipped off his shoes as he got on the couch. "Where were you?"
"Does it matter?" he scoffed.
"Yes." Arthur put his hands on his sides.
"That's my business. I'd appreciate it if you'd stay out." Merlin glared back, his rage suddenly meeting up with Arthur's.
"And this is my place. I'd appreciate it if maybe you'd say something every once in awhile."
"If I told you, you wouldn't even care." Arthur ignored the nonchalant tone.
"I still have a right to know!"
Merlin stood up and threw his arms in the air. "I was off practicing magic, is that a sufficient answer for you?"
"Don't lie to me, Merlin. It's getting harder to let you live here when you talk with bullshit coming out of your mouth."
Merlin laughed. "Bullshit, right."
"How long do you plan on staying?" This question caught Merlin off guard.
"I—I…" He didn't have an answer.
Arthur rolled his eyes and walked to his room, slamming the door behind him. He climbed into his bed and stared at the ceiling, grinding his teeth as he tried to let the anger wear off. He shouldn't have been angry. He shouldn't have cared so much. He shouldn't even be letting this boy live with him. Arthur had always been rejecting life and people, and now that he was suddenly caring about both of that he found himself lost. It's easy to understand how one feels about things. For Arthur it was becoming more and more complicated. He liked Merlin…a lot, and it irritated him that he couldn't find a sufficient answer as to why.
Eventually sleep was the next thing Arthur felt, but to his delight, which wasn't that delightful at all, he was awake much sooner than he had wanted. Groggily he got out of bed and wandered to the bathroom, getting himself ready for the day. He'd give anything to be a retired old man, but he was many, many years away from that. When he finished all of his morning rituals he headed into the kitchen, slightly shocked to see Merlin there. It wasn't like it should have been shocking, but it was. He'd made a quick breakfast and was looking nervous as Arthur stood on the opposite side of the counter.
"I know you usually eat at the diner, but I thought I'd try to say sorry."
"That's very kind of you," Arthur whispered.
Merlin smiled and a shook a hand through his hair. "Yeah, I was a total twat."
Arthur smiled in return and sat down at the small table tucked in the corner. "You, a twat? Maybe. But I think it's me who should be apologizing."
"Whatever for?" Merlin replied sarcastically, taking a seat next to him. The boys picked up their forks and knives and began to eat. A minute in Merlin said, "I'm shocked you even had any utensils or dishes."
"Did you think I ate off the floor or something? Like a dog?"
"A little, yeah." Both of them laughed until the sounds of metal touching plastic was all that remained in the silent air. It was peaceful to Arthur. Almost like being at the diner minus the smell and early morning talks. He could get used to not eating there anymore.
"Merlin," Arthur started.
"Yep?" replied Merlin. Arthur sighed and put his objects down, looking across at the other face who seemed preoccupied in his breakfast. When Arthur didn't speak Merlin looked back, shocked to see someone staring so intently at him.
"What is it, Arthur?"
"I'm sorry for how I acted last night. I'm not quite positive what came over me, but I honestly didn't mean to be such an ass."
"It's fine. You had every right to be mad, what with me acting like I own the place. Coming in at two in the morning! What was that?" Merlin laughed at himself, but Arthur only smiled.
"Merlin, I know I'm just being nosey, but why were you out so late?" Merlin froze. He stopped chewing and cutting, he wasn't even breathing. His blue eyes looked up at Arthur, clearly panicked. Finally he started moving again, his eyes staring down at his plate.
"Just…stuff."
"Stuff stuff…or just stuff?"
"Stuff is just stuff, isn't it?"
"There's different genres of stuff." Arthur smiled.
"Yeah, well, this genre is on a need-to-know basis." Merlin's tone was clear and harsh, letting Arthur know that he needed to back off. And he did.
Arthur unlocked his door and wasn't very surprised to see Merlin sitting on the couch.
"Hello!" he cheered loudly at Arthur's presence.
"Hey," Arthur said. "How was your day?"
"Eventful. I got a job."
Arthur raised an eyebrow. "Really? Doing what?" Merlin got off the couch and met Arthur in the kitchen, where he began to pour two glasses of orange juice.
"By day, janitor; by three thirty to five, piano tutor."
"That sounds like two jobs," Arthur said picking up a glass.
"Yeah, well…it's more than you've got."
Arthur smirked. "Ha, you got me there."
"I sure did," the British boy said.
"You know what I think?"
Merlin tilted his head to the side. "I was born a lot of things, Arthur. Mind reader wasn't one of them."
"I don't know whether to laugh or punch you in the face."
"Both would suffice, though I bruise easily, so I choose laughing." And Arthur did. Both did. For a short minute the two snorted and smiled, loud noises coming from them.
"What do you think?" Merlin asked.
Arthur quieted his laughter. "I think we should go celebrate your recent employment."
"I can't drink…legally."
"Right, nineteen. Well, how ‘bout I drink for the two of us?"
"How about we go someplace where I can be a free man?"
"Fine. We'll go to a club," Arthur responded, getting up from the table.
"A club? No."
"Hey, I'm the one who suggested we celebrate."
"I'm the one the celebration is about. We'll go where I want."
Arthur sighed. "Alright."
"Central Park? This is your idea of celebrating?"
"My family used to celebrate weekly. Do you know what it's like to have a big family? They make me mental—the whole lot." Arthur kept silent on their trek through the darkening park. "For me celebration is peace and quiet. A beautiful place…a nice stroll…a friend." Merlin was staring at Arthur the entire time. He hoped he'd stare back, but Arthur continued to keep his eyes away from the body next to his.
"What's wrong?" Merlin asked.
Arthur glanced at Merlin, then looked away. "Nothing."
"You're awfully quiet."
"I guess I don't have much to say."
"You seem sad," Merlin guessed. Arthur ignored him and stared at the tree.
"You don't have to say anything," Merlin began, "but if you want to talk, my ears are open."
"That's good. I think there'd be something severely wrong if your ears weren't open."
"Looks like you're cheering up." Arthur smiled. "Can't we go do something better?"
"Yeah, of course, I just wanted to say something to you."
Arthur stopped and looked at Merlin. "Well…say it."
Merlin cleared his throat and stuck his hands in his coat pockets. "I just wanted to say thank you for all that you've done. For letting me stay with you and putting up with me. It's a rarity that someone has generous as you would just so happen to walk into my life."
"You walked into mine, Merlin. And no offense, but I don't want your thanks."
"Why not?" he asked.
"Because I'm not generous. I'm a selfish dick who hates everyone…and everyone hates me."
"And why do you say this?"
Arthur exhaled. "Because it's always been like this. Since I was a kid I've been…alone. And that's mostly because I liked it that way."
Merlin shook his head. "No, you don't. You don't like to be alone, you just put up with it."
"Maybe. All I know is that I'm not a great guy, Merlin."
"If you weren't a great guy I wouldn't have of even saved your—" He stopped himself there.
"Saved my what?" Arthur pressured.
"Nothing. Um. Look, you're a great guy and whether you like it or not I'm saying thanks."
"You saved my what, Merlin?"
Merlin shook his head.
"Tell me," Arthur ordered, giving Merlin a slight shove. Merlin fell back a little, smiling as he stilled himself. "Please?"
"I saved…yourself…from having to be alone," Merlin replied suddenly. Arthur knew he was just covering up whatever happened to be the truth, but in another sense this was the truth. Arthur was struck with a sudden realization that his eyes welled up and his jaw dropped.
"Whoa, Arthur…Are you okay? Did I say something? I'm sorry, it's just…" Merlin panicked as Arthur's expression changed multiple times.
"I'm finally getting it," he said to himself.
"What?" asked Merlin. Arthur laughed momentarily, then he did something that shocked both of them. He grabbed Merlin's arm and pulled him in closer, their bodies not an inch apart. Arthur's lips pressed themselves against Merlin's. Merlin gasped as much as he could, but before he knew it he was kissing Arthur back. Soon after, the two separated.
"Umm," came from the pink-cheeked and eared boy.
"Can we go celebrate for real now? Gwen's having a party for some reason or another. I totally forgot until just now."
Merlin nodded his head. "Sure, yeah, let's go celebrate the right way."
"Careful," Merlin said as Arthur dropped down to the snowy ground. Arthur waved a hand absently and sat up to take a sip of his cup.
"I'm perfectly fine, Merlin."
"Yeah," Merlin laughed, "you're not drunk at all."
"Of course not! Unlike you. You do know that that punch you're drinking has been spiked," Arthur said.
"Yes, I've realized this. And who would ever do such a thing?"
Arthur looked innocent. "You aren't accusing me, are you? Because if you are…I'll…I'll." Arthur grabbed a handful of snow and tossed it in Merlin's direction, causing it to brush his knees.
"Oh, no! Not snow thrown poorly at my knees! Anything but that!"
"Shut up, drunk," he mumbled. Merlin laughed again and laid down beside him, wrinkling his nose as little white flurries fell onto his face.
"What do you think about the snow?"
Arthur sighed and sat up, taking another drink. "I'dunno. Snow is snow. I've never really thought about it before. It's kinda like…sometimes it's sunny, sometimes it's gloomy…sometimes it's night and sometimes it's day. I just deal, ya know?"
"I don't like it, but like you, I deal with it."
"Would you rather live in California or Florida? Maybe Hawaii?" asked Arthur.
"Yeah, that'd be nice. What about you?"
"Nah. I've lived in New York all my life. I'm fine here."
Merlin sighed and took a drink out of his spiked punch.
"Merlin?"
"Yeah?"
"Do you think that I'm a dick?"
"Well, we all can be a little mean," Merlin slowly said.
"I'm not asking about everyone. Me. Am I a dick?" Arthur growled.
"What does it matter if you are? I thought you didn't care?"
"Do I come across as uncaring?"
"No…no…not at all," Merlin lied. Poorly. Even buzzed and on the edge of being drunk, Arthur could read Merlin like an open book.
Arthur sat up and turned his attention to the boy next to him. "It's amazing how some people lie these days."
"What?" Merlin got up on his elbows. "I'm not lying," he lied again.
"Yes, you are. I'm not stupid, Merlin. I know when people are lying and you are one of the worst liars I've ever met."
"Arthur, what's on your mind?" Merlin sat up so his shoulder was touching Arthur's. Even though the boys had been drinking, they were slowly getting sober. It was Merlin's idea to make sure Arthur didn't drink too much, after all he had no idea what his new mate was like when he was pissed.
Arthur let out a deep breath and fog came out of his mouth. He sniffled and rubbed his hands against his knees, as if he was trying to keep himself busy from talking. Merlin gave him a little shove of encouragement.
"I don't talk a lot about stuff…and I really don't trust people. Sometimes," he stopped himself for a moment, "sometimes I just want to go up to a stranger and tell them everything that's on my mind."
"I could be a stranger," Merlin mumbled.
Arthur smiled. "You already are, Merlin. And I think that's why I like you so much. You don't know me…I don't know you. If I fuck up it won't matter in the end. Any day you could just disappear, and it really wouldn't matter what I had done or not."
Arthur drank the rest of his beer and tossed the cup into a snow covered bush.
"It's like when you're at a public place. There're all these people that you've never seen before and that you don't know. You can judge them and listen in on their conversations, you can smile and say excuse me…you can get mad at them and take your day out on them…but once you're home it doesn't matter because it's done with. And then it's different when it's someone you know. You can do all those things but you're going to remember it...and so are they. It's like for the rest of your life that's one thing you won't be able to move on from."
"You're talking about guilt," Merlin stated.
"Yeah. Guilt. I hate it, so I try to avoid it…always."
"That's why I left home," Merlin muttered.
"What do you mean?" Arthur asked, immediately intrigued.
"I did something…and I couldn't face the effects it had on my loved ones. So I ran away from it."
Arthur laughed one loud, disrupting chuckle. Merlin looked hurt but tried to hide it with confusion.
"I honestly wish I could run away like you can," Arthur explained.
"It's not the easy solution, Arthur," Merlin said harshly.
"I know, I know. It's just…I can't hide from my problems. Not completely."
"What are your problems?"
Arthur looked down and saw that his fingers were turning pink. It was getting colder out, even though the snow had stopped falling. He sniffled and sighed.
"My parents died…" he started. But he couldn't finish.
"I'm so sorry," Merlin whispered. Arthur shrugged.
"How…how did it happen?" Merlin asked, awkwardly pulling on his beanie.
"Uh, 9/11." Nothing needed to be said after that.
"I'm sorry," Merlin repeated.
"Me too," Arthur breathed. "I moved on, though. It was easy."
"Was it?"
"No." Arthur smiled at his correct answer. That was the first time he admitted any truth. Merlin leaned into Arthur's shoulder. It was to show support, but Arthur didn't see it that way. He pressed back and put his head on Merlin's shoulder.
"You're warm," he said.
Merlin smiled. "I usually am."
"I'm glad."
"Me too." Arthur closed his eyes and smiled wider as Merlin put his arms around him. Both the boys were in a wonderful peace. The booze kept their insides warm as their bodies kept their outsides warm, as well. They could hear the bass of music coming from the house behind, which was full of friends of Gwen. It wasn't annoying or intrusive, just noise that got blocked out.
"Arthur, can I trust you?" Merlin mumbled.
"Mhmm." Arthur nodded his head, seeming more like a nuzzle against Merlin's arm.
"I want to tell you the reason I ran away, but I'm scared."
"Why?"
"Because it's not normal."
"You're not normal," Arthur said, his voice coated in sleep.
Merlin smiled. "No, I'm not."
The two sat on the cold ground, their butts getting wet and their cheeks transforming into shades of little roses, but neither cared. For once in his life, Arthur felt secure and happy. He liked this—being in the arms of another. He hadn't been hugged in years. He remembered the last time. It was at his parents' funeral. His uncle, a man that Arthur detested, was trying his hardest to comfort the young boy who couldn't even allow himself to feel a single emotion. The older man had put an awkward arm around the lanky boy. Arthur had accepted the hug, but unwillingly. All he'd wanted was to be left alone. The realization made him laugh in despair.
"What is it?"
He shook his head. "Nothing."
Arthur wrapped his arms around Merlin, making sure he had a strong grip on him. Merlin squeezed back, smiling at the tickle of Arthur's warm breath on his neck.
"I want to show you something," Merlin said then.
"Oh?" Arthur asked, his tone playful.
"Shut up," the boy breathed. "Honestly, though, I want to show you something…the reason why I ran away."
"Oh." This time Arthur was serious. He pulled himself away from Merlin, his body aching from the lack of warmth. Merlin stood up and Arthur followed his lead, shoving his hands in his pockets and looking about. The party was dying down, but the few that had gotten drunk were planning to stay that way.
"So," Arthur began, "are you going to show me or what? Or do you have secret place for secret things?"
"Well, it is secret…but I think we can make a secret place. Like," Merlin looked around, his eyes roaming towards the side of the house, "there! Come on!" Merlin grabbed Arthur's hand, dragging him to the side of the house.
"Ready?" Merlin asked.
"Not really. I'm freezing my ass off."
Suddenly then, a spark of light casted off Merlin and then disappeared. There was another spark on the ground, causing Arthur to jump. The spark grew brighter and warmer, transforming into a small fire.
"That should keep you warm," the boy said.
"Wh? How? Did? Um." Arthur searched for words but found none. At least until the fire started to melt the snow and grow larger, heading for the two pairs of dark boots. "Ah! Fire!" Arthur began to stomp on the orange flames, his arms flailing in the air and his legs jumping up and down, relaxing as the fire disappeared completely.
"That was weird," Arthur muttered.
Merlin stared at him, unblinking.
"What?" Arthur asked loudly.
"You seriously believe that a fire just appeared out of nowhere?"
Arthur shrugged. "I don't know how fire works."
Another flicker of light came from Merlin, and then on the ground again. A second fire rose from the dry dirt—nothing to feed the flames.
"Take another guess, Arthur," Merlin growled. Arthur looked up at Merlin, whose eyes were glowing a brilliant gold. A familiar gold. He'd seen them before…but where?
"I've seen this before…I…" It was on the tip of his tongue, but Merlin spilled all the secrets.
"The night you got hit by the car. It would have been way worse if the tires didn't blow up, and I made them blow up. I used magic. I saved your life."
Arthur shook his head. None of this was possible.
"It's true," Merlin said, his eyes going back to a blue. But all the light was gone, so it was just two boys in the shadows.
"Magic isn't real, Merlin," Arthur stated.
"What's your favorite color?" asked Merlin.
"What does that have to do with—"
"Just answer."
"Blue, but I still don't see—"
"Shut. Up."
Merlin's eyes lit up again and his hands matched the light. It was dark again, and Merlin held up what looked like a flower.
"You picked that from Gwen's garden," said Arthur.
"It's winter. And besides, Gwen doesn't have a garden."
Arthur knew all this, but he just didn't want to believe the object in Merlin's hand was a flower. Sure, he could have gotten it from somewhere else, but it was fresh. It was a brand new blue flower, at least he figured it was blue (it was too dark to really tell), that had yet to taste the ground. But magic isn't real, Arthur said mentally.
"I have magic," Merlin said, almost as surprised as Arthur was.
"Magic's not real."
"I know, but it is for me."
"So, when you said you were practicing magic that one time?"
"I wasn't lying."
Arthur stared at Merlin deeply, hardly able to decode his emotions. Merlin was sharing a secret with Arthur, but he didn't want to know. Magic wasn't real, and that was that.
"Magic's not real," Arthur muttered once again, turning his back on his newest and only friend. He ran inside the house and headed for the table that held all the food and beverages. But he wasn't hungry, or thirsty…he was just empty. He filled a red plastic cup with the spiked punch, adding more vodka to his portion. Merlin never came inside. Arthur went through three cups before he decided he'd just take the whole bottle and hide in a bedroom upstairs.
He'd plan to stay in Gwen's room, but he found her in there, along with another man. He silently closed the door and made his way to another room, but found it occupied; the rest of the rooms were like this, too. Instead he shut himself inside a hallway closet, getting lost in coats and shoes. There he drank and thought about Merlin, a boy he hoped would be ordinary. That's really all Arthur was looking for. Someone simple who lived an ominous life—like him. But then Arthur realized that he didn't want someone who lived a life like him; he didn't like his own life, why would he like someone with a similar one? Merlin's life was pretty exciting and different. He lived in England his whole life, and then suddenly he moves to a different country where he knows no one and has no place to live. Arthur could never do that, but a part of him wouldn't mind if he did. To have the freedom and not have your name to anything; to just be able to decide that you're tired of one place and go to another without any thought or hesitation.
As the clear, fiery liquid washed down Arthur's throat, his thoughts got hazier, but clearer. He replayed what happened outside; the coldness, the warmth from Merlin's body, how he felt wrapped in his arms, how happy he was. He recalled the brightness from Merlin's eyes to his hands, to the ground below them. The fire couldn't have been planned as a trick—it was genuinely real. Though, magic wasn't real: this was the issue. Arthur believed in magic tricks and optical illusions, but not the kind of magic that you'd see in a Harry Potter film. But right now, he wasn't going to deny what he saw, he was going to embrace the possibilities of the impossible happening. Could Merlin have magic? That was the real question. Should I be scared? he asked mentally.
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