Arthur trailed along after Morgana and Gwen, his hands in his pockets. They were celebrating their first Pride as a couple—although Gwen had been in their lives since before they could remember, Morgana had finally moved out and told their father where he could stick it, and one of the first things she’d done was officially start dating Gwen.
Arthur personally thought she was being a tad dramatic. Their father could certainly be judgemental, but he’d never been openly homophobic, at least not that Arthur had seen. Still, he was determined to prove to Morgana that he didn’t share whatever attitudes their father may or may not have, and if that meant spending his Saturday at a Pride parade, that was fine with him. Morgana had even hinted that maybe he’d meet someone: “Come on, Arthur, you’re no less bi because you’ve never dated a man, Pride is for you, too.”
“That’s hardly my fault!” Arthur had protested. If the only man he’d ever fallen head-over-heels for hadn’t been straight as a board, he’d probably be married by now.
And right there was another reason he enjoyed supporting Gwen and Morgana every chance he got. He’d never admit it aloud—stiff upper lip and all that—but he certainly felt a twinge of self-indulgent glee knowing that just as swiftly as Lancelot had unintentionally broken Arthur’s heart, he’d turned around to be rejected in a similar vein by the object of his own affections.
“Guinevere, you are an angel,” he called as his future sister-in-law tried on a variety of rainbow-coloured headscarves from a stall in the vendors’ aisle, spinning to show off the look to her companions. Today’s event was family-friendly—which Morgana had probably chosen out of consideration for Gwen’s shyness—and the trio were currently wandering through the stalls of games, snacks, and artisans selling largely Pride-themed merchandise. All in all, it made for a very brightly-coloured scene, and the parade wasn’t even due to start for another hour.
“Oh, that’s beautiful!” Gwen suddenly pointed across the street, and Arthur followed her gaze. He immediately had to agree with her assessment. The man she was pointing at was stunning, leaning over a stool and smiling with a grin that lit up the whole street as he painted a rainbow butterfly on a young girl’s cheek. Arthur belatedly realized Gwen was actually pointing out a board set up on a table next to the stool showing the designs to choose from, which ranged from butterflies to birds to symbols and more abstract patterns, all in bright rainbow hues.
The artist was holding up a mirror to his young client now, who squealed with glee and dashed off holding her parent’s hand. The man watched them go as Morgana, Gwen, and Arthur approached, wiping his hands on a cloth as he straightened up.
“That’s beautiful work,” Gwen said, catching his attention. “Are you an artist?”
He laughed, and the sound made Arthur feel warm all the way down to his toes. “Of a sort,” he said. He reached for the first stack of business cards on the table in front of the stand, and held one out to Gwen. “That’s my studio.” Arthur glanced at the card, which read “Camelot Tattoo.” He sidled over to the table and picked one up for himself, glancing over the three glass jars lined up next to the cards, each of which was accompanied by a stack of brochures for a different charity—The Trevor Project, Stonewall, and Mermaids. The bottom of the display board that Gwen was now looking over intently read “By Donation.”
“Is this only for children?” Morgana asked, gesturing to his paints.
“Kids of all ages are welcome,” the man said with another smile. “I’m Merlin.”
“Nice to meet you, Merlin,” Morgana said as she slid onto the stool. “I’m Morgana, and this is my girlfriend, Gwen. The big lout hovering over there is my brother, Arthur.”
Arthur nodded in greeting, cringing at himself for gawking at the display before introducing himself. “Hello.”
“The pleasure’s all mine,” Merlin said, and Arthur imagined that his gaze lingered on him a bit longer than strictly necessary, trailing down his body before turning back to his work. “Well, did you have a design in mind?”
Morgana looked up at her girlfriend. “Gwen?”
“Oh!” Gwen exclaimed excitedly, and pointed. “We can do the two joined hearts, if you like.”
“In the lesbian flag colors,” Morgana added.
“Perfect.” Merlin beamed.
He began the design on Morgana’s cheek while they all chatted. “So, how did you two meet?” Merlin asked.
“Oh, we’ve known each other practically forever,” Gwen said.
“Childhood sweethearts?”
“If only!” Morgana sighed heavily, and Merlin gripped her chin to keep her face steady. “My father wasn’t exactly the open and accepting type. But that’s not really a problem for me anymore.”
“She’s being dramatic,” Arthur said, rolling his eyes. “She finally moved out, is all.”
Morgana narrowed her eyes at Arthur. “What about you, Merlin?” she asked. “Anyone special in your life?”
“I just moved here not long ago. Been busy getting the studio up and running, and trying to build up a clientele. Haven’t had much time to date.” Merlin shrugged.
“Have you discovered Heart of Hereford yet?” Arthur asked. “Best burgers in the city.”
Morgana, who was a vegetarian, rolled her eyes. “Spoken like a true meat-eater.”
“Hey, nothing wrong with that,” Merlin broke in. “Maybe it’s not for everyone” — he finished the design on Morgana’s cheek with a swipe of pink — “but I love a good slab of meat every now and then.” He glanced over at Arthur with a smirk as he stepped back to let Morgana up from the stool. “And no, I haven’t been. Care to show me sometime?”
“I’d love to,” Arthur said, grinning back like an idiot as Gwen slid into the seat in front of Merlin. Arthur was a bit fascinated by his hands as he worked, flying over Gwen’s face with a smooth efficiency and leaving beautiful colours behind. Almost like magic. Arthur coughed, tearing away his gaze to pull out his wallet and drop a handful of bills into each of the jars.
When he’d finished his work, Merlin stepped back and pulled out his mobile. “Mind if I post it to my Instagram? You’re my first couples’ design today.” Gwen giggled shyly, but Morgana lit up, and pressed her cheek to Gwen’s to complete the joined hearts. Merlin snapped a pic and then stepped over to a rucksack heaped on a chair to grab a drink from a water bottle. It left his lips glistening, and Arthur stared—his own mouth dry now too—as Merlin deftly screwed the cap back on and rolled up the sleeves of his shirt to expose heavily tattooed and toned forearms. Before Arthur realised what was happening, Morgana had settled him onto the stool in front of Merlin, who was already grinning down at him. “See anything you like?”
Arthur was already nodding before he followed Merlin’s gaze and realized he, too—just like Gwen had been earlier—was referring to the board of example designs.
Arthur glanced over the offerings again, though he’d already spent considerable time staring at them awkwardly as Morgana and Gwen had chatted with Merlin. He shrugged. “Whatever you think looks best.” Merlin’s smile faded at that, so he added with a smirk, “I’m entirely in your hands.” His flirtation had the intended effect as Merlin returned the look, saying, “I know just the thing.”
Arthur flinched at the first contact of the brush against his cheek, the paint colder and more ticklish than he’d expected. Merlin braced the back of Arthur’s head with his free hand, his fingers curling against the side of Arthur’s neck as if he was about to pull him in for a kiss. He was focusing intently on Arthur’s cheek as he worked, leaving Arthur free to make a thorough inspection of all that loomed tantalisingly in his immediate field of vision, from the long lashes dusting Merlin’s cheek each time he blinked to the sharpness of his cheeks and the plumpness of his lips. This may perhaps have been the most brilliant idea Morgana had ever had—not that Arthur would ever admit it.
“So, how many tattoos do you actually have?” Arthur asked, suddenly realising he’d been ogling the man before him long enough to be considered rude.
“Mm, I’m not sure. Maybe if you sit still like a good boy, I’ll let you count them later.” Merlin winked, and Arthur swallowed hard.
“They’re all covered, though?”
Merlin laughed. “Yeah. Promised my mum I wouldn’t hurt my career options, or she never would have let me get that first tattoo gun.”
“I take it she doesn’t approve?”
“Oh no, that’s not it at all. She’s super-supportive. My first tattoo that wasn’t on an orange was a bird on her ankle.”
Arthur laughed. He could hardly imagine his own father putting up with anything like that. “That’s sweet.”
“What about you, then? Got any ink?”
“Me? No. Noooo.”
“Ever thought about it?” The brush paused, and Merlin’s eyes darted over to Arthur’s lips before taking a long sweep down his body. “You’d make a stunning canvas.”
Arthur suppressed a grin—in the interest of sitting still like a good boy, of course. “Are you saying you want to mark me up?”
“Sounds like I’d be the first.”
Arthur’s gaze flicked to Merlin’s lips. “You would, actually. If you think you’re up to the task. But let’s start with something a little less permanent.”
Merlin grinned and stepped back. “Fair enough.” He held up the mirror for Arthur, biting his lip. “Well? Do you like it?”
Arthur glanced over the design appraisingly. “Oh!” he said. “That’s—” Merlin had chosen a design that wasn’t anywhere to be found on the board. It was the outline of a dragon, proud and medieval, filled in with a rainbow. It looked like it belonged on a knight’s shield. A very gay knight. Arthur grinned. “It’s perfect.”
Merlin glanced at the line of children that had formed as he worked, then back to Arthur sheepishly. “My mate should be here soon to take over. Wait for me?”
“Yeah,” Arthur said, unable to look away, or seemingly, to stop grinning. Fortunately, Merlin seemed to be similarly afflicted, an extremely contagious illness that had set in far too quickly and only continued to worsen as they watched the parade together, as Merlin took obscenely big bites of his first Heart of Hereford burger, as Arthur wiped a drip of grease from the corner of Merlin’s lips with his thumb.
It was only much later, with rainbow smears across the lumpy pillow in Merlin’s tiny flat above Camelot Tattoo, that Arthur found number 31, the twin to his own cheek decoration—in striking gold instead of rainbow—on a shield tucked into the curve of Merlin’s hipbone, opposite number 30, a sword on the other side.
It’s late at night by the time he comes. Their reunion earlier was all too brief, told in halted half-truths and gentle banter, under the watchful ear of Gaius. But now the old man is fast asleep, sneaking past him little matter. When Arthur creeps into Merlin’s room, he’s quick and quiet.
But Merlin had already woken, from the proximity of his prince. Something’s burning inside him, his heart on fire, and he knows. So it’s little surprise to him when Arthur straddles him in his tiny cot, pressing down over him with all the force of his weight, crushing his mouth to Merlin’s desperately.
And for the first time since the poison sapped his breath, Merlin can breathe.
Arthur’s kisses are quick, hard and desperate, and his fingers scrabble at Merlin’s sides, tickling. Merlin jerks under them, but presses up into the welcoming body. “Yesss,” he breathes into his prince’s mouth. He helps Arthur work his own shirt off over his head much as he’s able, awkwardly trying to raise himself up with the prince’s body atop his own. He reaches for Arthur’s shirt too, his hands disappearing easily into the loose fabric of the thin sleep shirt. He tugs it off and lies back, propped slightly on his elbows, enjoying the way the moonlight plays over Arthur’s skin. It catches on the glint of the prince’s eyes, more liquid than usual.
Arthur starts, brokenly, “I thought you were—” and before he can finish, Merlin’s shoved himself up again, crushing his chest to Arthur’s. He’s seen the prince’s skin on display plenty in the course of his duties—even felt the heat of it under his hands—but this sensation is new. Hot, hard muscle against his own gangly chest. Arthur’s chest shakes against his, and then the prince’s arms wind around his back. Arthur’s jaw rests against the side of Merlin’s head, and it’s a long time before he speaks again.
“You are not to leave me,” he says, imperious. “That’s an order.”
Merlin nods, and something flares to life inside of him. He can’t help but obey this order, as long as he lives.
-end-
Also on AO3 - subscribe to that fic for future merthur & mergwenthur drabbles
When a mysterious sorcerer comes to Camelot, Arthur becomes trapped in his own sword, mere moments after witnessing Merlin use magic. Now Merlin is cursed to be mute, unable to explain himself as he listens to Arthur-the-Sword shout at him as Merlin frantically journeys to save them both from their curses.
I had the absolute pleasure of working with @hiddendreamer67 for my first ever @bbcmerlin-reversebang! Thank you mods for hosting and for having us!
People kept leaving "gifts" to a creature in the woods believing that it will keep them safe in exchange for their gold and food, until one day it didn't seem enough, so they decided to offer him a royal blood
(little did they know that creature didn't need all the gold and treasures at all, but it still was funny to him that he kept silent, that is, until he was handed with the little prince...)
2087
tangentwithtanner
kianamaiart
pixelskylines
prguitarman
origamiaround
turnnoffyourmind
janainaart
snowghoul
