I'm bored and feeling slightly under the weather, so I decided to post some of the almost 15,000 words I have of a luxury train holiday fic that I started after learning that luxury train holidays were a thing. Why did I write a fic about such a random thing? Because I fell down a rabbit hole of luxury travel videos, discovered luxury trains, and naturally turned those videos into a Merthur fic.
Waverly Station, not to put too fine a point on it, was the most wretched hive of scum and villainy ever to be stolen by the British Empire; though possibly this was because Edinburgh had rained on Arthur, rather prodigiously, whilst he was legging it for the station; possibly because he had been woken, at the hour of No, to catch a train into Scotland; and possibly because he was carrying everything which Morgana owned, over every limb he owned; and consequently hated everyone. The sad fate of the baggage mule was his own: to be flogged, viciously, by a master too precious to carry their own bloody rubbish, through the most wretched of conditions (mizzle), with as little thanks as can be given by a creature throated to give it: and with that especial garnish, which was that he was being hit by Morganaās voice, rather than a nice little crop, which would have only broken his flesh, and not his spirit.
He was trying to decide in which order to kill them both when he spotted, at the other end of the station, the sculpted dark head, modelled in the image of a wave; though the wave would have blushed to hear it. And beside it, a head similarly coloured, if not similarly coiffed; though he had got it into some order, and not an entirely hideous one. Gwaine nodded; and then Merlin turned round, and showed Arthur the smile he hadnāt seen in two weeks. And he felt it call up from the depths of him an answering smile, though he still hated, in the following order, Morgana; the weather; everyone.
āShould have asked me and Gwaine to carry your stuff. Arthurās clearly crumbling under the weight of being overestimated,ā Merlin said, exchanging cheek kisses with Morgana.
āI just love how funny you are,ā Arthur replied, chucking off the various pieces of baggage, and letting them land where they landed.
āDonāt throw my stuff, you absolute knob.ā
āThen carry it yourself!ā Arthur snapped. āDid you remember your suit?ā he asked Merlin, who in a blazer and shirt which appeared, miraculously, not to have got his breakfast, blood, or tea on it, was so uncharacteristically smart that probably he considered himself to be entirely done improving on himself. āYouāll have to wear a proper suit for the formal dinners.ā He paused, squinting at him. āDo you have product in your hair?ā
Merlin wiggled his eyebrows. āGwaine helped me with it. Donāt worry; I wonāt embarrass you on your posh train.ā
āYou embarrass me on the Tube.ā
āI think thatās just because you feel a heightened sense of shame at having to ride public transportation with the plebian class.ā
Arthur rolled his eyes. āWhere are Gwen and Lancelot?ā
āGwenās in the loo; Lancelotās gone to look for something to eat. Heās worried the trainās going to serve tiny rich people portions.ā Merlin pocketed his hands in his trousers. āWant a coffee?ā
āSure; I could use one, having got up at the arse crack of time this morning,ā Arthur said, glaring at Morgana, who as usual was perfectly untroubled by her conduct. He gave Merlin a little slap on the shoulder, and then draped his arm round it, steering him toward CaffĆ© Nero before he could do something unforgivable, like choose Costa. He had enhanced the blazer and hair product with a little aftershave, so that as they were walking, Arthur caught a whiff of something not entirely abhorrent; though his manners, doubtless, would make up for it. If they got him on the train, in the blazer, and no one was very much harmed in the process, that was the most which feeble humanity could expect of Godās capricious mercy. āHowās work?ā
āLike arse,ā Merlin said, paying for their coffees, and handing Arthur his. āI think they would have asked me to push off my holiday, except they know Iām a biter. And not just the sexy kind.ā
Arthur rolled his eyes. āJust something to consider, a luxury train holiday with a spa and 24 hour steward service might be the place to consider not being a totally classless knob who talks about his sexual preferences in public.ā
āThe train has a spa?!ā
Arthur ignored that. āYou didnāt answer about the suit.ā
āYes, I packed the suit we FaceTimed about.ā
āNice to know you can occasionally conjure up enough sense to listen to me,ā Arthur said, sipping from his coffee, and looking across the platforms to where Gwen had now joined Morgana and Gwaine, and the women were talking with their heads close together, and laughing, whilst Gwaine arranged himself for the admiring masses.Ā
āSometimes I wish he werenāt so straight,ā Merlin said, cocking his head a little to one side, and drinking from his coffee. āJust a little bit gay; thatās all Iām asking for.ā
āGwaine?ā Arthur sputtered, choking on his coffee. āWhy on earth?ā
āBecause heās the fittest man I know.ā
āOf everyone you know, Gwaine is the fittest.ā
āNo, I didnāt say everyone, I said of the men I know. I would never say fittest of everyone I know, when Morganaās right there.ā
Arthur stepped on his foot, and got the maddening dimples which told him that Merlin was being trying for the sheer and unadulterated pleasure of it; though he made up for it, marginally, by stepping out from underneath Arthurās arm, so that he could have a proper look at him, the measuring appraisal of a (not terribly) discerning bisexual, who was not so simple, at least, as to not notice that Arthur was practically the pinnacle of attractiveness, in regular shirt and trousers; and in a proper jacket was planting his flag at the peak of it. āYou look ok, though,ā Merlin said, tweaking one of his lapels a little.
Arthur cuffed him across the back of the head. āOk.ā
āYeah. For a total arsehole.ā
Lancelot had returned, and Arthur and Merlin were cordially punching one another, when the Royal Scotsman arrived, and Gwen gave a little squeal, and leapt up holding two very reasonable bags, whilst Morgana and entourage looked at Arthur expectantly.
āI am not hauling all that on the bloody train. You could have asked yourself at any point, āDo I need my entire closet for a week-long holiday?ā and come to a sane conclusion, but you didnāt,ā Arthur said; and so having stated his piece, hauled his own rucksack over his shoulder, forsaking hers.
They were piped aboard the train, a rather troublesome portent, Arthur felt; all week people would be making noise which they felt to be music, whilst he was trying to work or read or bathe; whilst it was his right to exist with the Highlands of Scotland, doing their piece to be stunning, whilst he did his. He had his luggage taken, and was shown through into the Observation Car, which was kitted out like a lounge with armchairs and sofas, and a small balcony for watching the stars. Merlin, true to his complete lack of noticeable decorum, said, āHoly shit.ā There was a decent carpet underfoot, the colour of wine; and the wood panelling was the same as he had seen in hotels of distinction. There was the bar at the end of the car, which he would need, once Morgana boarded with the Luggage, having got Gwaine to do the hauling for her, and still feeling that Arthur owed her his time and lumbar spine.
āWhy did you book us a double, you weirdo?ā Merlin asked when they were taken to their cabin, having shouldered ahead of Arthur, to get a look at it first, before Arthur could spoil his first impressions, by being, as Merlin put it, āa poncey indifferent bastard.ā
āI didnāt. Itās a twin.ā
āLooks like a double bed to me.ā
āWhat?ā Arthur cried, and pushed him out of the doorway.Ā
Merlin, contrary to all that was sane, or expected, was right: there was the one lone bed, lovely but singular. They had made it up with a little tartan duvet in the spirit of their culture, as if that would make up for the insult. āWeāre supposed to have a twin room.ā
āIām sorry, sir, this is the room.ā This from the liveried employee who had shown them to the cabin, and was now realising he had done something, inadvertently, to anger the kind of patron who could drop twenty-six thousand pounds on an eight-day holiday. Merlin pinched him. āItās fine,ā he reassured the man, dimpling at him.Ā
āItās not fine!ā Arthur cried.
āYes, it is. If you donāt have any other rooms, and Iām assuming you donāt, otherwise you would have said so immediately, as soon as he started turning all red in the face, we can manage. Heās not the worst thing Iāve woken up to,ā Merlin said, and dimpled again, this time in a way that made Arthur coincidentally sweat.
āYou didnāt have to be a knob to him,ā Merlin said when the man had left, tossing his blazer over the armchair.Ā
āI wasnāt a knob to him, he mucked up my booking!ā
āHe didnāt muck up your booking, and put your tits back on. I think we can survive sharing a double bed for a week. I donāt know what youāre complaining about, anyway. Youāre the one who snores.ā
āI do not snore,ā Arthur said, outraged. āYouāll have to sleep in the armchair.ā
āIām not sleeping in the armchair.ā
āWell--on the floor, then. Iām sure thereās extra bedding to be got.ā
āIām not sleeping in the armchair, or on the floor; if youāve got a problem sharing, youāre free to kip on either one,ā Merlin said, as if it were settled; and now began, with every appearance of serenity, to begin unloading his bag, into the loo, and all over the writing table and bed, as if he were entitled to the calm dispersal of his belongings, whilst Arthur was stood in the centre of the cabin, clutching at his bag, and staring. The bed was an ordinary double; no giant of its kind, but a mere representative, with no girth but the girth to accommodate them, just. Doubles were for couples who didnāt mind mingling their breath and their limbs and their--other limbs. And now he would have to share, with Merlinās aftershave and thighs, the romantic space in the spirit of platonicness. Already Merlin had sprawled out on it, demonstrating how it was to be, for seven nights, for Arthurās personal bubble. Already he had taken off his shoes and blazer, and put his fitted trousers all over Arthurās bed, as if it were decent, or sensible, or respectable, to take off any clothes whatsoever, in that close, warm space in which they would have to violate the edicts of platonic accord.
āSo all week, Iām to have your elbow in my ribs, and just deal with it?ā Arthur demanded, still clutching at the bag on his shoulder.
āYeah, and probably my morning wood too, but I wouldnāt worry about it; if our friendship can get past your personality, it can get past anything.ā
Gwen poked her head in the door. āHello! Theyāre serving afternoon tea soon.ā She stopped, and looked at Merlin on the bed, and looked at Arthur, not on the bed, because he was in possession of common decency. āWhy have you got a double?ā
āI dunno. Apparently Arthur and I are on our honeymoon,ā Merlin said, scrolling through his mobile with his thumb without looking up.
āI booked a twin,ā Arthur repeated, loudly but uselessly, in the face of Merlinās indifference, and Gwenās eyebrow. She was giving him a Look, very capitalised. It was Arthurās unfortunate but not unexpected cross to bear; he was one of those unlucky blokes who had got some miscreants, instead of those decent, ordinary folk of common friendship; though he had expected better from Gwen.Ā
āAnyway,ā she said, still giving him the odd Look, āare you coming down for tea? Weāre in the first dining car.ā
āIn a minute,ā Arthur said, unloading his bag, by the satisfactory method of smacking Merlin in the face with it.
āOw!ā
āArthur,ā Gwen scolded gently, and was gone, leaving him in that strange shrunken space, where before had existed a normal-sized room; even a rather kingly one, for a train. He felt there was a sort of odd pressure round him. He felt already that he had the awareness of Merlin, before he had Merlin--his close, stifling body, in the bed, that was--the close, stifling presence, offensive if not downright repulsive; anyway, he was quite plagued, quite unsurprisingly, as he had been, all their long and troublesome friendship.Ā
āGet up; weāre going for tea,ā he said, poking Merlin in the side, and getting a yelp out of him.Ā
They watched Edinburgh and the Castle vanishing beyond the windows from the dining car, whilst Lancelot ate an alarming number of canapes, and Gwen warned him, in the roundabout way of innuendo, by someone who actually knew how to make it, that he oughtn't to be too full, for the sake of--of dinner.
āAnd dessert,ā Merlin said, in a dining car full of blazers and cocktail dresses, in a tone which specified, clearly and resoundingly, that he was not referring to a nice little jelly or sorbet.
āI thought you said you werenāt going to embarrass me on my posh train?ā Arthur asked, kicking him in the shin.Ā
āTechnically I embarrassed Gwen,ā Merlin pointed out, shovelling one of the canapes into his mouth. āWhat are we doing tonight?ā he asked, like an animal, through the canape, rather than after it.
āDrinking, I think,ā Gwaine replied.
āThere arenāt any excursions today,ā Morgana said. āWeāre getting off tomorrow at Glenfinnan, but tonight youāre free to do whatever you like, till dinner. Have some drinks, watch the scenery, break in your double bed.ā She smirked at him.
Arthur rolled his eyes. āFor the last time, I. Booked. A Twin.ā
āHe just missed me, is all,ā Merlin said, turning on him a smirk almost as bothersome as Morganaās.
āI donāt see how,ā she said, sipping her tea. āIām sure he has a little doll made of your hair that he sleeps with every night.ā
āYeah, but it just canāt live up to the real thing,ā Merlin replied, ruffling it.
āI wish youād never met. Or been born,ā Arthur said pleasantly.
āMerlin, why donāt you give your bride a proper seeing-to in your double bed? Heās getting tetchy again.ā
āPiss off,ā Arthur said, and went to find, in the arms of some champagne, solace from the bitter reality of his genetics.
Op. Where is the rest of it. Please. You gave me only one bed and a train. I must have the rest.
In all seriousness, I love this!!! Itās so cute, and I cannot wait to see where Arthur and merlin go next - both literally and figuratively. Will you be posting it to AO3 for the holiday season?
Tbh, I'm not sure when it'll be finished. I started it a while ago and have been adding to it here and there in between other works. I've been trying to decide whether to work on this next, or the sequel to the vet fic.
Maybe this helps to inspire you. (I felt inspired by your story!)
This is beautiful!!
