Scott was on his feet barely even before he had finished processing what he was seeing. Their own boat wobbled precariously and John was forced to reposition himself in the middle, holding onto both sides in order to stop the whole thing from capsizing.
"Scott, what..?" John made to ask what Scott was doing, but as his brother simply dove off the side of the boat, he guessed that he should have known what was coming. Watching Scott resurface, gain his bearings and then strike out for Virgil's boat, John sat down, grabbing the oars. His own eyes were also fixed on Virgil's boat, and he couldn't stop the sigh of relief when he saw his brother resurface again. Virgil might have been coughing and spluttering, but Scott was on his way and John knew that his brother was going to be okay.
"Virgil!"
The yell from the bank caused the blond to whip around from where he had been attempting to make the boat move. Gordon and Alan had clearly finished their turn and had come to watch their big brothers. None of that crossed the star-loving Tracy's mind, however, as he saw the distress on Gordon's face as Virgil disappeared back under, and the way the child bent down, clearly looking like he was going to take his shoes off.
"Gordon, no!" John yelled, changing course slightly now that he had managed to get the thing to move. Once he managed to get a small amount of momentum, it really wasn't that difficult. There was no way that he could match the speed they had been travelling at before, but he was at least making progress. Originally, he had been heading straight towards where Virgil had disappeared. But on seeing the man in charge also heading that way, John changed his mind. If the instructor was out on the lake, there would be no one on the side to stop Gordon simply diving in. Not that John doubted that his brother could handle himself in the water - he would possibly reach Virgil before Scott did - but he didn't want Alan trying to follow suit or for all of them to end up in the lake. Out of the corner of his eye he could see that Scott had almost reached Virgil and, tugging sharply on the oars once more, John brought the boat to a stop, halfway between his brothers and the side.
Thanks @loopstagirl for the original idea of this whole fic that spiralled far further than I think either of us expected.
Scott's POV 1 | Part 1 | Scott's POV 2 | Part 2 | Scott's POV 3 | Part 3 | Scott's POV 4 | Part 4
Christmas had come and gone as loudly as it always did in their house.
The best gift for Gordon was the day his oldest brother had turned up at a training session alongside Jeff, the kid hadn’t stopped talking about it for a week. Jeff had been confident Scott would soon be making his way into the pool himself, especially if his request for an olympic sized pool on their newly purchased island was anything to go by.
John and Virgil had both returned home for the holidays full of stories and with open invites for their big brother to visit them at their respective colleges come the following semester. Scott had been keen, immediately opening his calendar and circling dates between appointments and other plans.
Even Jen had paid a brief visit, greeting the younger brothers as old friends proving just how much Scott had spoken of them all to his squad at one point or another.
By spring Jeff had noticed just how Scott had begun to fill out again, his time in the gym paying off and rebuilding the muscle that had been lost. He was starting to relax, to enjoy life as he once had and found the confidence he had always worn like a comfortable jacket. Gradually, he was becoming a version of the son Jeff recognised.
March was spent in the air, racking up supervised flight hours after passing the required psych exams. It had taken time for him to be comfortable in the pilot's seat again, but Scott had said himself that being in the air was as natural to him as being in the water was for Gordon. All he had needed was a supportive shoulder, one that Jeff was willing to offer.
By his birthday, Scott’s full pilot’s license had been reinstated, giving cause for a celebration alone without the news of John’s new Space Rated status. They had called Virgil on hologram, celebrating from their separate corners of the country louder than they had done over the festive period.
It had been late in the night when Jeff had found Scott out on the porch, a letter discarded but evidently not forgotten in his lap.
“I was going to tell you earlier, but the surprise party kind of distracted me.” Scott had smiled as Jeff had joined him on the step and poured them each a measure of whiskey.
“Cambridge offered me a spot to study English Lit, it’s all online so I’d only need to go over twice a semester so I’d still be able to--” He paused to glance over his shoulder, making sure no younger brothers were lingering in the kitchen.
Jeff had chuckled, glad that Scott was doing something for himself, something that didn’t immediately lead to any plans that had seemingly always been in place.
“You don’t have to, you know?” He had pointed out, “If you want to take some time for yourself before joining the Project…”
Scott had shook his head, grinning as he sipped his drink, “I want to get in the air again, Dad, and that rocket? I’m not letting you have all the fun.”
Both had laughed at the implication, wordlessly reaching their glasses towards one another in a silent salute to everything they had overcome in that year alone.
Things still weren’t perfect, Alan and Gordon were far from happy about moving to a boarding school away from their family. Scott still had a way to go before he was back at his full strength and fitness, but with the encouragement from Val and Lee, he was well on his way to outperforming them all.
“This is what I need.” Scott had nodded, “Despite everything, I’m glad we’ve ended up here Dad.”
Jeff had slung an arm over his shoulders and pulled him close, “Me too kid, me too.”
Of course, it hadn’t lasted.
A short eighteen months later, Jeff had been shot into the farthest reaches of their solar system. He had been sure that he would never see his family, his boys, again. It hadn’t mattered what he had tried with the engines, there had been no way for him to get home. He had tried, time and again to find a way to get through to them but it had eventually become apparent that all he could do was try to stay alive.
He had taken to sketching and writing when he wasn’t trying to keep himself alive, focussing on thoughts of each of his boys. How Scott was at least back doing something he loved, that John had made it to space as he had always wanted to, that Virgil was close to graduating with Honors on his engineering degree, that Gordon would have made it to the Olympics, and Alan at least had four older brothers to look out for him. It had been the thought and memory of them that had kept him going, the irony not lost on him that it had been the same things that had kept Scott going through his imprisonment.
There had been little else to occupy him over those long years.
He had never given up hope, not even as the planetoid had begun to separate beneath his feet, he had known they would come.
Right at the last possible second, he had spotted Scott.
Just like that, their roles were reversed.
Scott had stepped up in the time Jeff had been gone, and the more he had seen of the man his eldest had become, the more his heart had hurt.
He had dropped out of his Literature degree almost immediately after Jeff had gone, had taken up the role of commander in International rescue, and the role of Father to younger brothers that weren’t ready to be orphans. Once again, thanks to Jeff, Scott had lost sight of the man he wanted to be for himself.
Once again, Jeff had vowed to set that right.
There had been months of recovery, hospital appointments and physiotherapy, most of it familiar from the year before he had taken the unexpected trip. Scott had resolutely been at his side through all of it.
“Alan asked how you did it…” Scott had started one night, sat out by the pool waiting for Virgil and Gordon to return home from a rescue.
Jeff hadn’t needed further clarification as he had trailed off. He’d had therapy that morning, had spent the day pulling his boys closer after talking about what the isolation had done to him. Of course, they had all picked up on it.
“I imagine much the same way as you did during the war,” Jeff admitted softly, “Thinking of your family, remembering all the good times.”
Before he had left, talking about the war had been coming easier for Scott. It hadn’t taken long for Jeff to realize that Scott had clammed up once he had no longer had his father to talk to about such times.
Scott snorted, looking out to the horizon, “Admittedly, it’s a good method.”
Jeff smiled sadly across to him, “It got us both a long way.”
It had gotten them both back home, back to their family, to somewhere where they could find their feet again and work towards the version of themselves they wanted to be.
The man sat next to him was physically recovered from his time as a prisoner, but had never found a solid enough footing to find himself amongst all the chaos life had thrown at them.
“You didn’t end up where you were aiming, I’m sorry for that.” Jeff sighed after a moment, reaching out to Scott’s shoulder, “Because of all of this, I think you lost yourself again Scott.”
“I--” For a moment it seemed like he was ready to argue, before his shoulders had fallen and he had nodded in admission, “I became who I needed to be.”
They had shared a look, one that spoke of burdens that had fallen back on tired shoulders that had barely gotten free before being weighed back down again.
“You deserved to live life for yourself Scott.”
Scott ran a hand through his hair, “I know that now.”
“I know it wasn’t my fault,” Jeff continued, “but I’m sorry I wasn’t here to help you see that, Son, I’m sorry that life has been so cruel and unfair.”
Scott’s arm wrapped around his shoulders, “I’m glad you don’t blame yourself.”
Jeff would never admit to him that it was a concept he still sometimes struggled with, but something he was working on regardless. His son didn’t need any more burdens.
“So,” He started, looking across with raised eyebrows, “Alan’s headed to college in the Fall, how about you take another look at that Literature degree?”
Scott’s laugh was full bodied against Jeff, “Yeah, I suppose that doesn’t sound like a bad idea.”
The five Tracy boys stood in a small huddle outside the door leading to the pool. Already, splashes and yells of delight could be heard from within, and in a moment of precaution, John had rested his hand on Gordon's shoulder, to stop the fidgeting, if nothing else. Alan was clinging onto Scott's hand, a big grin on his face that was the complete opposite to the expression on their biggest brother's face. Scott was smiling sure enough, but Virgil knew he wasn't the only one who saw how it didn't reach his eyes. This was supposed to be a break for them all, but once again Scott had been stuck with babysitting duty. They could tell he didn't mind too much - Alan's excitement at having Scott to himself was almost infectious. But it was the principle of the matter that had Virgil so annoyed. Jeff had promised to take his youngest for today, then changed his mind as soon as things turned to business.
If he was honest, Virgil would swap with Scott any day. The Tracys weren't the only ones present. Oscar was leaning against one of the huge marble pillars that were scattered everywhere and which had fascinated John so much on arrival. His arms were folded across his chest and there was a sneer on his face as he watched the brothers converse. Scott had tried to be nice, to involve Oscar in the conversation in order to make him feel welcome, but the boy had turned up his nose in disgust and stalked off to one side. Virgil glared moodily at the floor, not believing his luck that it was he who was now stuck with the spoiled child.
"So we are all going to meet back here at twelve?" John was in the process of asking, but Scott shook his head.
"Alan and I are on the other side. How about you come via here to get Gordon when you are done, then meet us in the restaurant? Dad promised that he would join us."
"You know what Dad's promises are like these days," Virgil muttered under his breath, and immediately received twin glares from his two older brothers. Even Gordon shot him a hurt look, but Virgil wasn't going to apologise. The man had possibly just landed him with the worst vacation he was ever going to remember, all because he wanted a business deal.
"I was going to say that Virgil can meet us there, but if he is that immature..." Scott began, narrowing his eyes at his younger brother. They softened in sympathy when he caught sight of how dejected the boy looked, and he sighed heavily. He was going to have his work cut out for him trying to make everyone happy over the next few weeks, of that he was sure.
But he couldn't blame Virgil; he already wanted to smack Oscar over the head for being a brat. But with any luck, when they were around people their own age, the boy would soften and Virgil would find a friend. Glancing over at the cool posture of the child, Scott only just held back a grimace. How could someone look so arrogant when he had only just turned ten? As he turned back to face his brothers, he caught John's eye and knew that the teenager was thinking the same thing.
Lucy moved across the darkened room, pulling back the drapes. The afternoon sunlight spilled into the room but the heap in the middle of the bed didn’t stir. She reached over the bed-guard, putting a gentle hand on Virgil’s shoulder.
“Virgil.”
There was a low whine and the ball curled up even smaller. Smiling, Lucy tugged back the covers. Her toddler was flushed from where he’d had the duvet over his head and he screwed his eyes shut.
“Still sleep,” he whispered.
“You’re still asleep?”
He nodded, refusing to open his eyes. Resting a hand on his back, Lucy shook her head fondly down at him. They had this same conversation every day. Scott had refused an afternoon nap by this age but Virgil gave no sign he was ready to drop them.
“Come on, sweetheart.” She carefully slid her hands in until she could get a grip on him, lifting him out of bed. Virgil made a grab for the duvet, but she knew it was coming and moved him out of reach before he was able to take hold.
“No, Mommy.” He twisted, trying to get back to the bed.
“Yes, Virgil. It’s time to get up. Then you can play with your brothers.”
She knew once he’d come round, once he was distracted, he’d be fine. But Virgil both asked for his nap and refused to get up from it. The sooner he dropped it, the better!
“Mommy,” he whined.
“Virgil,” she said, echoing his tone. Looking down at the little boy in her arms, she couldn’t resist placing a kiss on his forehead. He’d be furious in the way only a toddler could if she told him he looked ridiculously cute right now.
His hair was mussed from where the covers had been pulled up, one cheek red from being cushioned on his hand. Wide hazel-coloured eyes blinked at her and his pout was almost impossible to resist. Almost. She’d grown some defences against it now she was confronted by it each day.
Brushing her fingers through his hair, she picked her way through the toys and carried him to the stairs.
“Mommy, nap,” Virgil told her.
“You’ve just had one.”
“Wuver one!”
“You want another nap?”
He nodded seriously, the pout growing larger when he realised she had no intention of putting him down. Lucy knew exactly where he’d end up if he had the chance to run for it. She pressed his nose with her finger instead.
“Not until bedtime, sweetheart. Come on, let’s find those brothers of yours.”
Scott had been kicking a ball around the yard the last time she’d seen him, while John had been trying to help Jeff with some maintenance outside. Given her husband had less defence against their sons’ pleading eyes than she did, Lucy knew those jobs wouldn’t be getting finished today.
Virgil continued to whine the entire way down the stairs. Lucy stopped listening. She’d developed the ability to know when there was something actually wrong with one of her boys and when they were trying their luck.
“How about we find you a biscuit? And some milk?”
Virgil’s pout didn’t lessen, but he looked slightly mollified at that suggestion.
“Then we can go and find your brothers. Maybe we can play outside for a while?”
“No, Mommy,” Virgil said obstinately.
Lucy didn’t ask what he wanted to do instead. She took him through to the kitchen, having to get him some milk one handed from where her sleepy two-year old didn’t want to let go. His head was resting on her shoulder and Lucy knew without looking he would have his eyes shut again.
“How about you sit in your big boy chair?” she asked him as she took him through to the lounge. Virgil whined and clung closer. Lucy sighed, sitting down herself and letting her baby boy snuggle in. If she was honest, she didn’t mind. Virgil was getting to the age where he’d only let himself be cuddled if he was tired or under the weather. The rest of the time, he was as energetic as his brothers and much preferred to either be charging around or have some crayons in his hand if he had to stay still.
This was the one time of day where he preferred to nestle into her.
He drunk his milk and yawned, snuggling back in.
“You have to wake up now, sweetheart.”
Scott had hated naps. John was a good sleeper, but he stuck to a routine like clockwork. Virgil offered his own challenges.
Virgil shook his head.
Then a noise from the kitchen drew her attention.
“We’re in here!”
Scott came bounding through, a grin on his face and oblivious to the mud he’d just tracked in.
“Dad said you’d be awake!” He ignored his mother completely as he crouched by her knee, watching Virgil. “Wanna come play?”
It didn’t escape Lucy’s notice that Virgil was suddenly no longer snuggled in. He was sitting up, his pout disappearing now that Scott was here.
“And I thought I was getting a cuddle,” she teased, winking at her eldest.
“No, Mommy,” Virgil said again, but this time, he was looking at her incredulously. As if she had said the most absurd thing. “I play wiv Scotty.”
He was already wriggling free, only her quick hand helping to lower him to the floor rather than his faster-than-anticipated descent.
“Dad’s letting us paint the fence!” Scott exclaimed.
Virgil’s entire face lit up. “Yay!”
He grabbed his big brother by the hand, hustling from the room so quickly that Lucy could’ve sworn someone had just flicked a switch on him.
They were gone before she stood up, although she could already hear peels of laughter coming from the yard. She took his cup through to the kitchen, watching through the window. There were three buckets lined up against the fence and as she watched, each child grabbed a brush. There was only water in the buckets.
Scott slapped his on as quickly as possible. John was methodical but clearly trying to catch up. But Virgil had dropped into a crouch, tongue poking out, as he carefully drew his brush along the fence, careful to follow the lines of the slats. The water was drying as quickly as he was managing to put it on.
Jeff looked up and saw her watching. He gave her a wave. Chuckling, Lucy left the cup where it was and went out to join her family in the garden.
The evening had gone better than any of them had expected, a sudden storm over on the West Coast meaning that instead of arriving that evening, the business partner Jeff was due to meet couldn't even hope to arrive until the next day. John had kept his eyes down throughout the meal, but had been unable to stop the small, yet strangely smug smile from forming on his face after a waitress had delivered the message. Their father had looked slightly annoyed, but as tiredness began to catch up on Alan and he didn't want to eat any more, the man had been distracted by having to be a father rather than a businessman for a change.
Naturally, Scott had caught the look on John's face and the second the two of them were alone in their room – after they'd both promised Virgil to make it up to him – he had whirled on his younger brother, demanding to know what that had been about. After forcibly pushing Scott back, for he was always one who liked his personal space, John had sat down heavily on his bed, staring out of the window.
Sensing the change in his mood, Scott had come to perch next to him, but didn't crowd his brother this time. With a smile back on his face, John admitted softly how he had asked their mother for the chance to be a family - at least for a little while. And then they had received an evening together with no tears and no tantrums, when Jeff should have left them to begin negotiations. Scott had a smile on his own face by the time John had finished, and the two teenagers had talked long into the night. At one point, they had been laughing so hard Scott had sworn that he had heard Jeff stirring in the next room. An instant hush had fallen across them, John stuffing the pillow into his mouth to stifle his giggles before they had both finally fallen asleep at about 1AM.
Needless to say, neither brother had wanted to wake up the next morning. When John was finally dragged from sleep by a persistent noise, Scott merely groaned and stuck his head under the pillows. John had to smile as he sat up, looking around the room for where the tapping noise could possibly be coming from. It was nice to know that his brother could just be a normal teenager at times, no matter what mature front he showed the younger ones. In a way, John felt proud that Scott allowed his immediate younger brother to see him at his most vulnerable. Virgil only ever saw him as someone in control, someone who had to apologise for their father's actions.
Jeff breathed in deeply, feeling his shoulders drop as he took in the familiar sights, sounds, and smells. He didn’t regret leaving the USAF for NASA. Nor did he regret leaving NASA for his family. But he couldn’t deny part of him felt like coming home as he stepped back on the Base.
“Woooooow,” an excited voice breathed.
Jeff grinned, glancing to the side. His wife was watching him with a knowing expression. He’d never given her cause to worry if he regretted his career decisions, but she also knew what this place meant to him. Their first year of marriage had been spent in the barracks here. Scott had been conceived, and almost born, here as well.
Then his gaze lowered. Just over the swell of her stomach where their new child was growing, he could see his young son. To say Scott was wide-eyed was an understatement. His mouth was open in wonder, practically bouncing from where he held his mother’s hand tightly.
They hadn’t been surprised when he’d shown an interest in planes from a young age. Given his father’s own passion, it had almost been expected. But what was surprising was that Scott was just as obsessed now as he was six months ago. Nothing else held the two-year-old's attention for that long.
“Where Dada’s plane?” Scott asked. He let go of his mother’s hand, only for Lucy to snag his collar.
“Daddy doesn’t have a plane anymore. He does a different sort of work,” she explained gently – and for the hundredth time.
“From the office house?” Scott asked. Jeff chuckled.
“Yes, Scotty. From the office house. The one with the big windows, remember?”
Scott nodded. Then, “but where Dada’s plane?”
Lucy chuckled. She let go of their young son.
“He’s all yours, flyboy,” she murmured, kissing Jeff on the cheek. “I need to sit down.”
“Are you okay?”
“I’m fine,” she reassured him. “But this one had me up all night. I’m going to find a good seat for the presentation.”
Her hand caressed her stomach as she spoke and Jeff’s gaze followed the movement, smiling. His emotions had bordered on terror when she was pregnant with Scott, but this time, excitement was making itself known.
“Scotty, you’re going to stay with Daddy, okay?”
Scott nodded, grabbing his father’s hand. Jeff tried to watch his wife walk away, but an insistent tugging in the opposite direction forced his attention back to his son.
“Alright, champ,” he said, hoisting the boy into his arms. “What do you want to see?”
“Planes, Dada! Dada’s plane!”
Deciding it wasn’t worth telling him again that he no longer had one, Jeff crossed the familiar tarmac to the hangers.
While it felt good being back, it also felt strange. This was no longer his home. He didn’t have a plane, a bunk, a command. He didn’t have a team or a copilot. But as Scott squirmed in his arms, excitement making it impossible for him to stay still, Jeff knew it was all worth it.
He didn’t need to follow the murmur of voices to know where he’d find old friends. He paused in the open doorway for a moment, his eyes adjusting to the light. He’d missed the dim interior, the smell of engine oil and fumes and the sound of tools amongst the chatter.
Scott’s gasp gave away his son’s eyes had adjusted before his. The boy was squirming in his grip, almost vibrating with excitement, as the planes came into view, but Jeff get a tight grip on him.
“You have to stay with Daddy, understand?” he said, tone gentle but firm. “No running off.”
“Promise!” Scott didn’t even look at him. His head was swivelling from side to side as he took in the jets lined up.
Jeff chuckled and set him down, but took a firm hold of the toddler’s hand as he walked him towards a group. While he may trust the Air Force with his life, he didn’t trust them to be a suitable place for an unsupervised two-year-old to be running around. There were dangers everywhere Jeff looked, and that realisation made him smile. How he’d changed in the few years since he left.
“Well, well, if it isn’t the man of the hour,” a friendly voice called. Conversation died away as the group turned to look at him.
Jeff grinned, embarrassed. It had been a surprise to say the least when he’d received the notice that he’d been put forward for a medal of honour and that command had approved it. He thought his Air Force days were behind him. But it turned out some details had come to light about one of his more classified missions and they’d figured out how many men he’d saved. Jeff had tried to tell Lucy he’d just been doing his job, but she’d told him to shut up and accept the award.
He still wasn’t sure how he felt about it. He certainly didn’t deserve it: there were just as many brave men and women here who’d have done the same thing if they’d been in those circumstances. But he wasn’t going to pass over the opportunity to visit old friends, or show the Air Force off to his son, and show his wife off to the Air Force.
“Bobby,” Jeff said warmly. He held one arm out as a burly pilot stepped forward, wrapping him in a bear hug and slapped him so hard on the back as he stepped away that Jeff almost stumbled.
“Heard they’d finally seen sense and decided to give you what you deserved,” Bobby said.
“I told them you wouldn’t accept,” a woman said, also stepping forward to embrace him.
“Meaning you owe me fifty bucks, Chris,” another man told her.
Jeff chuckled. “I missed you guys.”
The words surprised him; he hadn’t meant to say it out loud. But Bobby, Christina and Jim had been by his side for years. Before Lucy, they’d been his family.
“You seem to have cloned yourself,” Bobby said, looking down.
Jeff followed his gaze. Scott was clutching his leg, looking up with wide eyes at the adults clustered around. Jeff couldn’t blame him: Bobby wasn’t the sort of man you wanted to meet in a dark alley until you got to know him. Broad and tall, he had tattoos over every inch of bare skin.
“You remember Scott?”
They’d all met him, of course, not long after he’d been born.
Jim whistled. “The bean sprouted.”
Scott didn’t understand what was being said, but he giggled anyway. Jim bent down to him.
“How you doin’, kid?”
“I see planes,” Scott told him. “Where Dada’s plane?”
Chris chuckled. “You really did clone yourself, huh?”
Jeff rolled his eyes. Keeping hold of Scott’s hand, he followed the team further in where even more people were waiting to greet them. Both familiar faces and new clustered around, excited for the presentation later that day, although Jeff suspected that was because it gave them a break from their normal routine.
He shook hands, had his back slapped, and endured the good-natured ribbing that came from stepping away from a life of action to a domestic one, especially given that he seemed to be good at it given his fledgling company was finding her wings. Old friends congratulated him on the business; new acquaintances wanted to know if it was true what he’d done to earn the recognition.
Jeff wasn’t surprised when the original three slipped away. They didn’t need to hear the story again: they’d been there. They’d gone through the debriefings with him and Jeff was still certain they were the reason he was being honoured today. He’d save them all over again though, no questions asked.
But as people slowly drifted away back to their assigned duties, Jeff made to tighten his grip on Scott.
And froze.
How long had his hand been empty for? When had he last felt the surprisingly tight grip on his pants as Scott stared? How had he not noticed the regular ‘why’ hadn’t come?
Heart lurching, Jeff looked down. His eyes only confirmed what his heart already knew.
Scott was gone.
“Scott?” Jeff called. He tried to keep his voice calm, hoping the boy was just a few steps away. “Scotty? This isn’t the time for hide and seek, buddy.”
The hanger was full of active military planes. Engineers used the place to service them – there were tools and wires everywhere. So many dangers for someone so small!
“Scott?”
Jeff tried not to freak out as a few people glanced at him in confusion. He’d earned a medal in an active warzone: it wouldn’t do to panic now. Scott couldn’t have gone far: he only had short legs! Of course, those calculations would’ve been a lot easier if Jeff knew exactly when his son had disappeared.
He checked behind large containers, slowly retracing his steps. Scott wouldn’t have left the hanger. Not when there were planes to see. He had to focus his search on this immediate area and no doubt he’d find the boy.
“What’s wrong?” The girl – woman – in front of him only looked old enough to be a cadet.
“I can’t find my son,” Jeff admitted.
“What’s he look like?”
“He’s two – pretty sure he’s the only toddler running around this place.”
She nodded, put two fingers in her mouth and whistled sharply. Three others appeared and Jeff guessed they were her squadron.
“Commander’s lost something. About this high.” She lowered her hand to her knee. “Let’s find him.”
The four spread out before Jeff could come to grips with being called ‘commander’. He answered to ‘sir’, ‘boss’ and, most importantly, ‘Dada’ these days but something about the title made him straighten. Scott couldn’t have got far. He just had to be methodical about this.
He continued to search near where he’d been standing, reasoning that in a place full of strangers, Scott wouldn’t go far. But when there was no sign of him, he realised his error. The jets would’ve been more of a draw than the security offered by his father.
As Jeff turned to head towards the nearest fighter, a voice rang out.
“Over here, Commander.”
He didn’t run. He was a seasoned veteran here to be honoured for keeping a cool head in a moment of crisis. He didn’t run. But it was a damn fast walk.
It only took a moment before he hit another crowd. They weren’t waiting for him this time. Instead, they were crowded around one of the planes, listening to someone boast about the speed it could go and the acrobatics it could perform at impossible heights. Jeff frowned when he recognised Bobby’s voice. It wasn’t like the man to brag.
“That’s nothing,” Chris cut in. “You should see what my girl can do.”
As one, the crowd surged off, drawing Jeff with them. He couldn’t get free if he wanted to, but images flashed through his mind of Scott being caught in this crowd of feet, unable to get out...
A squeal of delight cut through his living nightmare.
Jeff looked up, just in time to avoid walking into the person in front of him, who’d stopped. They’d moved to another plane, gathered around the cockpit. This time, Jeff shoved his way through. As a high-pitched giggle reached his ears, he had a feeling he knew what he was going to see.
He was right. Chris was crouched on the wing of her plane. The cockpit was open. Only the top of Scott’s head was visible from where Jeff was, but he could hear his son talking non-stop from the pilot’s seat. Jim and Bobby were standing next to the plane, Bobby scowling as Scott made his delight known at whatever it is he’d found in Chris’ cockpit.
“Don’t listen to her, Scott.” Jim darted forward, scooping Scott up. “My plane is the best.”
He started moving off.
“Hey,” Jeff said. He pushed after them. Scott waved happily over Jim’s shoulder.
“I saw properella,” Scott told him. “Bob’y has big plane with huuuuuuuge properella.”
He tried to gesture the size and almost hit Jim in the side of the head.
Jeff smiled, trying to stop the laugh bubbling inside him. It wouldn’t do any good for Scott to realise Jeff was finding the entire thing amusing. Not when he had to remember his first and foremost role right now was being a father.
“What did I say about running off, young man?”
“Aww, c’mon, Jeff,” Bobby said, “where’s your sense of adventure?”
“Where’s Dada’s plane?” Scott demanded of no one in particular. “I want Dada’s plane.”
“I told you, kiddo. Daddy doesn’t have a plane anymore.”
“Does,” Scott said obstinately.
Bobby’s laugh turned into a hasty cough. Jim stopped walking, shifting Scott in his arms so they could both face Jeff together. But before Jeff could argue (and probably lose), a stern voice bellowed from somewhere behind them.
“What is going on? Standing around here like you’ve got nothing to do! Back to work, all of you.”
The effect was instantaneous. The crowd all suddenly had somewhere to be and jobs to be doing. From standing amid a crowd, Jeff suddenly found himself alone. It took a few seconds for his senses to catch up and then he turned.
Walking towards them with a purposeful stride was a man Jeff knew all too well. His old squadron snapped salutes and before Jeff realised what he was doing, he had done the same, body shifting into a military stance that had been honed from years of drills.
The general smirked.
“At ease,” he said. The four of them relaxed. He raised an eyebrow at Bobby, Chris and Jim.
“Don’t you three have work to be doing?”
“Yes, Sir.” Chris and Bobby shot Jeff guilty looks before moving away, unable to disobey the hint, even if it wasn’t quite a direct order. Jim stepped towards Jeff, Scott still in his arms.
Jeff’s gaze was drawn to his little boy. Scott had the back of his hand against his forehead, frowning on concentration.
“What’s up, Scotty?” Jeff held out his arms to the child. Scott ignored him, shifting his hand but still not dropping it from his head. Jeff glanced at Jim, who shrugged, also non-plussed.
“Like this, soldier,” the general cut in. He gently took, then rotated, Scott’s hand until the boy had managed his very first salute. Scott beamed in delight.
“This is General Jones, Scott,” Jeff said softly. “He’s in charge of all this.”
Scott’s eyes went wide even as his hand dropped. Then he looked around.
“Where your plane?” he asked. “Does it have properellas?”
“Scott-,” Jeff began. He shot the general an apologetic look. “Sorry, Sir.”
The general dismissed Jeff with a flick of his hand before plucking Scott from Jim’s arms. He gave the pilot a pointed look, who snapped another salute and hurried off to where he was supposed to be. Jeff held out his hands, intending to take his son, but the general turned on his heel, walking off with Scott. Jeff was left standing there with his hands outstretched, blinking at a now empty space.
“I’ll show you the really good stuff, kid.”
“Um, Sir-?” Jeff hurried after them. “The presentation... Don’t you need to be preparing? Let me take him back to his mother.”
The general shot him a look.
“You think I rose to my position by not being prepared ten minutes before the green light, Tracy?”
“No, Sir!” It was an automatic response.
“They need to give you the run-down on the order of events. Go to the main hall and report for duty.”
“But Sir-,”
“That was an order, Tracy!”
Despite the bark of command, Jeff hesitated, and the general smiled. He twisted until Scott could see his father.
“You want to go with your Daddy?” It was a completely different tone of voice to the one Jeff had just heard. “Find your Momma?”
Scott shook his head, his hand fisted in the collar of the general’s jacket. “I wanna see planes.”
The general chuckled. “Start ‘em young, that’s what I always say. He can stay with me, Jeff. Go. Be ready for your moment. Today is about you.”
Jeff felt a swell of emotion, but he forced himself to keep his voice steady. “You sure, Scotty?”
Scott nodded.
“Be a good boy, then. I’ll see you afterwards.”
He saluted the general, received a nod from his once superior and a clumsy salute from his son, and turned. It was either that or deal with the fact Scott had just poked himself in the eye.
He went to where he was told, but barely listened to a word as a young man gave him the low-down on what was going to happen. Jeff was torn between feeling guilty that he’d handed Scott off, trying to see through to the audience to spot Lucy, and the familiar feeling of not believing he deserved any of this.
When the young man saluted and walked away, Jeff returned it without thinking, then hoped someone was going to be in the wings with him to tell him what to do given he hadn’t listened to a word. The crowd was growing, uniforms filling every spare space, outnumbering the civilians ten-to-one. Lucy was near the front, looking radiant with her hand resting on her stomach and her gaze fixed on the stage.
Jeff was supposed to wait until he was called. He tried to make himself comfortable, finding a spot where he could continue to watch his wife. The audience suddenly fell silent as a door opened, then there was a collective intake of breath. Seeing Lucy’s mouth fall open in surprise, Jeff swivelled quickly to look back at the stage again.
The general had entered, striding into his position with all the authority of a man in complete control of the situation. He was in spotless dress uniform and his bearing was strong and powerful.
He also had a two-year-old still in his arms, who waved in delight when he saw his mother in the audience. Lucy waved back, before shutting her eyes for a second and shaking her head. Jeff grinned, knowing she’d have a few things to say when they were reunited. The empty seat next to her gave away where Scott was supposed to be, even though they’d both agreed there was no way he’d stay put.
Jeff was here because he was being honoured for something that had happened years ago. He remembered it like it was yesterday though. When he saw Chris, Jim and Bobby only a few seats down from Lucy, he felt a twinge in his chest. He’d traded one family for another but that didn’t mean he didn’t care about them. Wouldn’t risk everything to save them just like he’d done back then.
But while it was supposed to be a night he’d never forget, Jeff had no idea what the general said. He could’ve called him a reckless idiot for all Jeff knew. His attention was instead fixed on the small boy in the man’s arms. Scott alternated between practicing his salute, trying to reach everything on the podium (forcing the general to tighten his grip more than once to stop him diving out of his arms) and waving at his mom.
Given the sniggers in the audience, Jeff knew he wasn’t the only one who wasn’t paying attention to what he was sure was a carefully practiced speech. Finally, the general trailed off, looking resigned. If he’d got halfway through what he intended to say, Jeff would’ve been surprised.
Instead, the general shifted Scott and picked up a box, making a show of lifting the lid, albeit with only one hand. He captured the attention of the audience again when he lifted the medal from the box. It was on a small piece of ribbon and glinted under the stage lights.
Jeff’s throat went dry. He didn’t deserve this. Anyone would’ve done what he had done in his position. It had never bothered him that the details of the mission had been so secret that no one even knew until recently. He hadn’t done it for the glory; hadn’t done it to be rewarded. He’d just wanted to keep his friends safe and make sure everyone had got home.
There was a push in the small of his back and he stumbled forward. It was not an elegant entrance onto the stage, but no one seemed to notice as the audience erupted with cheers. Blinded by the lights, Jeff staggered his way towards the centre of the stage.
He tried to look at Lucy, needing her grounding presence now more than ever. But the lights made it impossible to see individual members of the audience. Even though he knew she was only a few feet away, he couldn’t see her.
“Dada!”
He could both see and hear Scott though.
Smiling, Jeff fixed his gaze on his son and regained his momentum. He walked across the stage, paused in front of the general and gave his best parade-ground salute. The man returned it, although with the wrong hand due to the squirming toddler in the other. Scott also gave it a go, and the audience let out a collective ‘aww’ even as the applause died down.
“Jefferson Tracy-,”
“What that?” Scott reached for the medal. The general moved it beyond his grasping fingers.
“Jefferson Tracy-,”
“I see!” Scott demanded, still stretching for it. “I see. Me!”
General Jones looked at Jeff, as if trying to judge how seriously he needed to take this. This was supposed to be Jeff’s night – and yet he couldn’t be happier if Scott wanted to take centre stage. He gave his commander a small nod and the general pulled the medal back into Scott’s reach, who promptly grabbed it.
“Pretty,” Scott declared. “Mommy pretty too.”
While he couldn’t see her, Jeff knew exactly where Lucy was, and winked at his wife to the delight of both the audience and his son, who giggled.
“Mine?” he asked the general, clutching the medal close to his chest.
“Not yet, son,” the man said. “Although keep up this plane obsession and maybe one day.”
Jeff chuckled. He’d known since Scott had been born that he’d never be one to keep his feet on the ground. The sky called to him, perhaps even stronger than it had his father.
“But-,”
“I’ve got a job for you,” the general said, cutting off Scott’s protest before he could get started. “But only big boys can do it. Reckon you’re up for it?”
“I a big boy. I gonna be a big brother!”
Jeff felt his face burn. Not exactly how he planned to tell his own squad there was another Tracy on the way. The audience erupted again, and Scott beamed, clearly believing he’d said exactly the right thing.
Trying to cool his flaming cheeks, Jeff swallowed hard. As soon as anyone came face to face with Lucy, her condition would be obvious. It wasn’t like it was a secret. But he certainly hadn’t intended for the entire Base to know. Still, Scott looked so proud of himself that Jeff could only smile.
“Well,” the general recovered before Jeff did. “Then you’re the man for the job.”
“I only a boy,” Scott said, looking worried.
“Then you’re the boy for the job. I need you to give this,” the general motioned to the medal, “to your Dada. Can you do that?”
Scott looked between the medal and his father. Something in his expression shifted, as if he suddenly realised this was an important moment. He nodded seriously. The general set him down, the spotlight moving to illuminate him and Scott screwed up his eyes at the brightness.
Scott moved slowly; a speed Jeff hadn’t known was possible for his little boy. He walked carefully, holding the medal with both hands and watching where he put his feet.
Jeff dropped to one knee when Scott reached him. His son reached out and put one small hand on Jeff’s chest. It was what he did when he was about to grab hold of a coat or collar, but this time, he just rested it there for a moment. Then he held out the medal in the other hand.
“For you, Dada,” he said, his small voice carrying around the entire auditorium.
Jeff took the medal, a lump in his throat, and rested his hand over Scott’s. They stayed like that for a long second before Scott started giggling. Jeff stood, scooping his boy into his arms, kissing his head.
“Thank you,” he murmured into Scott’s hair. Scott hugged him tight, not understanding but sensing something had just happened.
The lights came up properly, showing the entire hall on their feet. Jeff had a strong suspicion it wasn’t for him though. He caught Lucy’s eye and saw tears running down her cheeks. She’d no doubt blame the pregnancy given how wide her smile was as she looked up at them. Jeff turned Scott so he could see his mom and he waved again.
While Scott was distracted, the general approached. He shook Jeff’s hand warmly.
“One of my more memorable award ceremonies,” he said.
“I’m sorry,” Jeff grimaced, “I-,”
“No apologies, Tracy. He’s a credit to you and your wife. And one day, I feel he is going to be a credit to this Air Force.”
Jeff hugged Scott close. His son had a bright future, no doubt, but the father couldn’t think of his little boy in the military right now.
“Mommy!” Scott cried and Jeff saw that Lucy had indeed made her way to them. She scooped Scott out of Jeff’s arms, kissing his cheek, then Jeff’s.
Then she stepped back, giving the two men a little space. The general took the medal from Jeff’s hand and pinned it to his lapels, setting it straight.
“I can’t convince you to come back, Tracy?”
Jeff looked past him to his friends in the audience. He did miss them and missed the thrill of flying the jets. But then his gaze fixed on his wife as she gently touched her nose to Scott’s, at his son, at her stomach and the life growing within.
“I’m honoured, Sir, but no. I’m where I belong.”
The general gave him a sharp salute, which Jeff returned. Then he turned on his heel and marched away, leaving the father to rejoin his family. He wrapped an arm around Lucy’s waist and tussled Scott’s hair. Scott’s little fingers traced the medal.
“You hero, Dada?”
“No-,”
“Yes,” Lucy interrupted, “yes, Scotty. Daddy is a hero.”
Jeff would’ve protested but his son looked at him with such admiration and trust in that moment that the words died in his throat. In the end, he just gave a short cough and cupped Scott’s cheek.
“One day you will be too,” he said, and Scott grinned at him.
As the family of three (and a half) left the stage, Jeff knew without a doubt that his words had been the truth. What he’d been honoured here for today would be nothing compared to what his boy would one day go on to do.
Written for my Merlin Bingo card prompt: Dog Walker Au
-x-
It was his fault. He wasn’t paying attention.
Or, rather, he was, but in a distracted ‘we’ve done these hundreds of times’ sort of way.
They always came to this field, at this time. He always let Aithusa off the lead to frolic in the long grass, going wherever her nose took her, trusting in her recall. While he always walked slowly, hoping for a glimpse of... him.
The golden-haired god who also walked his dog along this stretch at this time of day.
Not that Merlin knew why he still looked out for him. The man was gorgeous, true enough, but he was rude. He was the only dog walker that never said good morning, never had comment about the weather. It had been the highlight of Merlin’s week when he’d once got a grunt out of him.
It was fine. It was all fine. Morgana once told him that her half-brother (a man from many stories who Merlin had never actually met) enjoyed his dog walks as a chance to appreciate silence and nature, given the demands on his attention the rest of the time. Maybe this fellow was just doing the same?
Still, silence or not, Merlin wasn’t above loitering on the path just to get a glimpse. It always put him in a good mood.
But it meant his attention wasn’t completely on Aithusa when she suddenly yelped in pain.
Merlin sprang forward before the sound fully registered. It had been a cry of pure distress. In the three steps it took him to reach his spaniel, all sorts of horrible scenarios had raced through his head.
He found Aithusa huddled in a patch of long grass.
“Here, girl,” he called softly. “What is it? I’m here; it’s okay; I’m here.”
He kept up the reassurances as he moved closer. Aithusa took a step towards him, but she cried out again, holding up her front paw. He squinted as he advanced, his stomach giving a sickening lurch as he spotted blood on the ground where her paw had touched.
Merlin lunged forward to close the distance, not wanting her to put her paw down again. As he did, something cracked under his foot. Glass. There was glass all around them, fragments of what looked like several broken bottles. Aithusa whined her distress.
A few more steps, and he had her. Scooping her into his arms, Merlin hurried back to the path, wanting to be on safer ground before seeing what the damage was.
He dropped to his knees, cradling her on his lap. He tried to reach for her paw, but Aithusa snapped at him in clear warning.
“It’s okay, sweetie,” he crooned at her. “Let me just take a look.”
Light was glinting off something in her paw, no doubt a shard of glass embedded from where she’d stepped on it. She was whining in pain and the sound broke Merlin’s heart.
Awkwardly, he slipped out of his jack to be able to wrap it around her.
“You alright?” a slightly gruff voice said from behind him.
Merlin spared only a quick glance over his shoulder. It was him: the god-like figure who haunted him. Or, at least, haunted his walk.
And Merlin couldn’t care less.
He didn’t have time for rude, arrogant asses, not when Aithusa was whimpering on his lap.
“Fine,” he said, shortly. “Don’t go in the grass. There’s g-glass.”
His voice cracked, knowing some of said glass was in her paw.
“Stay.”
“What?” Merlin glanced around, confused, then remembered the man was out here for the same reason as him. Of course, he was talking to his dog!
The gorgeous long-haired Alsatian promptly sat where it was, head tilted to one side as it watched is master.
“Impressive,” Merlin muttered. He hadn’t intended to say it out loud. The man shrugged.
“We’ve worked together for a long time. He’s a good boy.”
The words registered in some part of Merlin’s mind, but he wasn’t actively listening. His attention was fixed on the squirming dog on his lap as he tried to wrap his jacket around her to make carrying easier.
“Here.”
The man dropped down beside them, not seeming to care that his obviously expensive trousers were now getting muddy. He reached for Aithusa, who growled warningly.
“She’s usually friendly,” Merlin said, “it’s just-,”
“She’s hurt,” the man finished. He clicked his tongue, and his dog trotted closer, sitting down at Merlin’s side. The man reached for Aithusa again and, this time, the larger dog gave a soft growl of his own. Aithusa shrank back into Merlin, but didn’t snap again.
The man scooped Aithusa into his arms, jacket and all. He held her in a confident way that suggested he had done this sort of thing before. Aithusa obviously felt safe enough as, other than a small yip at Merlin, she didn’t seem to mind being dognapped.
“I have to get her to the vets,” Merlin said, scrambling upright. He tried not to think about how he would’ve managed that with Aithusa in his arms. He hurried after the man currently walking off with his dog.
“My place is closer,” the guy said. “We’ll go straight to the stables; there’ll be something there we can use.”
“You live in a stable?” Merlin said, baffled. Despite his confusion, he was still impressed when the dog fell into a perfect heel with his master at nothing more than a hand signal.
The man gave him an incredulous look.
“Of course I don’t live in the stables.”
“Ah. You’re a stable boy.”
The man gave Merlin that look again. Merlin mentally face-palmed. A stable boy? What world had he fallen into, and how did he get back before he made even more of a twat of himself?
“I’m Merlin,” he settled for saying instead.
“I know.”
“You... know?”
Had they been introduced before? No. Merlin was sure he’d only heard one word from this man before. That had been ‘here’, when he’d passed him a plastic bag when the sole of Merlin’s shoe had fallen off in the pouring rain. He’d been gone before Merlin could even thank him.
“You talk to yourself,” the man said. He had the type of smirk that might’ve done things to Merlin’s insides if he hadn’t been too busy chanting ‘twat, twat, twat’ to himself.
Finally, though, the man said, “Arthur.”
Not trusting himself, Merlin just nodded. Arthur led him who-knew-where, and Merlin was so focused on his injured dog that he forgot to dwell on how gorgeous Arthur’s ass was in those expensive trousers.
They turned off the public footpath and Merlin realised by the manicured lawns and trimmed hedges either side of them that they must be on someone’s property. It was only Arthur’s long, confident strides that stopped Merlin from saying something.
He felt like he’d walked at least another mile before a building came into view. Merlin’s jaw dropped.
He’d thought ‘The Stables’ was just the name of Arthur’s house. But no. He’d meant actual, real-life stables with horses and everything.
Merlin meekly followed Arthur in. It was well-lit and clean, with a sweet smell of hay overlaying the other, more unpleasant, smells that came with several stalls containing horses.
Long noses appeared over stall doors as Arthur passed, all nickering for his attention. His dog padded off to an empty stall and lay down, completely at ease.
“You are a stable boy,” Merlin breathed. It wasn’t just the horses’ obvious familiarity with Arthur. It was as if Arthur’s entire boy had relaxed, his earlier smirk replaced by a soft smile as he murmured something to each animal he passed.
It was clear that it wasn’t only his dog that felt at ease here.
A neat, proper, little man hurried from a back room. He stopped when he saw Merlin.
“Injured dog,” Arthur said, drawing attention to the bundle in his arms before the man said anything. “We need Leon.
“Yes, S-,”
“Now, George.” Arthur cut the man off, and the fellow hurried away again.
Merlin moved closer, stroking Aithusa’s ears.
“You’re okay, girl,” he said gently, “you’re going to be just fine.”
He kissed the top of her head, then looked up at Arthur, daring him to say something. But he was met by that same warm smile.
“You can tell a lot about a man from how he treats his animals,” Arthur said.
Merlin returned the smile, a little self-consciously, and looked around, continuing to stroke Aithusa. There was a sense of peace in here, the shuffling of horses providing a soothing background noise.
Arthur had relaxed too, Merlin noticed. His shoulders had dropped and the frown that Merlin had never seen him without had disappeared. Merlin didn’t know the man, but he got a strong sense that this was where he felt most at home: where he belonged.
Before he could say anything – and maybe make even more of a fool of himself – George reappeared. There was a second, much taller, man with him, with an unruly mop of curls and warm eyes.
He looked around the stables, as if checking for an issue, before frowning at Arthur.
“Stepped on glass,” Arthur said, nodding to the bundle in his arms.
The man moved forward, but Merlin did the same, not wanting Aithusa to be overwhelmed by strangers.
“Leon’s a vet,” Arthur explained. “Used to working with horses, true, but has a lot of experience with dogs.”
Merlin bit his lip but nodded, giving Leon space to examine Aithusa.
“Give her back,” Leon told Arthur. “She’ll feel safer in her dad’s arms.”
Those words, more than anything, won him Merlin’s trust. He took his dog from Arthur, easing her trembling with a few soft words.
It was over in moments. Leon removed the shard of glass and smoothed over an interestingly smelling ointment before dressing it.
“Leave it covered for a few days, and she’ll be okay. Come back, or-,” he added quickly, “take her to your vet if you’re worried but there shouldn’t be any problems if you keep it clean.”
“Thank you,” Merlin began. Leon dipped his head and walked off while Merlin was still trying to form a sentence about how much he owed.
“Forget it,” Arthur said. “Leon is contracted to treat any animal in the stables. Never said it had to be a long-term resident.”
“Thank you,” Merlin repeated. “Actually, talking of these stables... Where exactly am I?”
He hadn’t been paying enough attention on the walk here.
An inscrutable expression flickered across Arthur’s face.
“Pendragon Manor,” he admitted, carefully, as if the words were said under duress.
Merlin’s eyebrows rose. He knew the richest family around lived nearby. He was friends with the errant daughter, after all. But Morgana never invited friends here, instead living in a flat in town. They all understood it was because she hated her father and wanted nothing to do with him. They usually pretended – on her request – that she wasn’t a Pendragon.
Merlin had never dreamt that he’d one day be standing here – even if it was just the stables.
Then his brain caught up with the facts he’d been given so far.
“Wait,” he said, slowly. He stared at Arthur, who looked away. “She has a brother.”
Arthur looked blankly back at him.
“Who has a what now?”
“Morgana.”
Arthur scowled. It wasn’t one of dislike, though. Merlin knew that as much as Morgana hated her father, she adored her half-brother. Arthur’s conflicted expression implied that might be mutual.
“Of course,” Arthur muttered, his tone bitter.
“What does that mean?” Merlin demanded.
Arthur gave him a scathing look.
“You know my sister, and you just happen to do the same route as me?”
“Huh?” Merlin thought he might have missed a turning in this conversation somewhere.
“She’s been trying to set me up for months!” Arthur complained. “She knows you’re my-,” his jaw worked furiously for a moment, before he bit out, “type. That’s why you’re there, isn’t it? Every morning with your cheerful ‘hello’s’.”
Merlin was so stunned that all he could do was blink for a few seconds. Then he found his voice again.
“Ever heard of being polite?” He shot back. Aithusa perked up her ears at the heat in his voice. “And, Your Highness, not everything is about you.”
Arthur scoffed and turned away.
“You might be good-looking,” Merlin continued, ignoring the voice in his head screaming at him to shut up. “But you’re far too much of a prat for my liking. I didn’t know who you were! And if I did, I certainly wouldn’t have spoken to you.”
He didn’t think about his words. Instead, he straightened, careful not to jostle the dog in his arms.
“Send me the bill,” he said coldly. He would not be indebted to Arthur. Turning, he took a few steps towards the door before Arthur spoke again. This time, his tone was softer, less certain, and definitely less scathing.
“What do you mean: you wouldn’t have spoken to me? What’s Morgana said about me?”
Despite himself, Merlin glanced over his shoulder. He wondered if the cool expression on Arthur’s face ever fooled anyone: there was clear pain in his eyes. Merlin relented. He couldn’t walk out on someone who looked more like a wounded puppy than the dog in his arms.
“You know,” he began, uncertainly, waving his free hand in a vague gesture.
“I don’t.”
Merlin took a breath. “She always says that walking his dog is the one time her brother –well, you, I suppose – can switch off from the weight of expectations and trying to prove himself. It’s the one time he could just breathe. If I’d known who you are, I’d have never interrupted that.”
There had been enough moments in his own life for him to properly understand how important times of peace were when they came.
Arthur just started at him, without speaking. Merlin eventually shifted from foot to foot, awkward.
“They say prolonged eye contact means you either want to kill or fu-,”
“Shut up.”
But, unless Merlin was mistaken, Arthur’s tone was even softer than before. His expression was still unreadable, but there was something warm in it.
“I’m Arthur Pendragon,” he finally said.
Merlin stared at him. “I know. Well, I didn’t know the second part. Do you really think I would have called you a stable boy if I’d known that?”
“With you, Merlin, who knows?”
“You don’t even know me!”
“Like I said, you talk to yourself,” Arthur said with a grin.
It was a look, Merlin realised, that he wouldn’t mind seeing more of.
Then he realised what Arthur had just said and felt a blush rising.
“When you say I talk to myself-,” he began.
“Greek god, eh?”
Merlin groaned, burying his face in Aithusa’s fur.
“I’m Arthur Pendragon.”
“You’re mad is what you are. Why do you keep telling me that?”
“I’m trying to start again!” Arthur shook his head. “Where you know exactly who I am, and I don’t accuse you of stalking me.”
“Are you apologising?” Merlin said, incredulous.
“Are you going to roll with this or not?”
Merlin chuckled. He shifted Aithusa until he could stretch out a hand.
“I’m Merlin. This is Aithusa. No one meets me without meeting her.”
Arthus flashed him a grin again, shook his head, and fondled Aithusa’s ears. His own dog chose that moment to come trotting over, leaning lovingly against Arthur’s side.
“Kili,” he said. “Or Kilgarrah, if you want his full name. Don’t ask: Morgs chose it.”
Merlin grinned. It was the sort of mouthful of a name his friend would have come up with.
“Given that you’ve apparently heard from my own mouth that I want to get to know the stranger on my walks, would you like to go for dinner with me?”
It wasn’t the sort of thing Merlin usually said to a stranger he’d just met. It took more courage than he expected.
When Arthur responded with a ‘no’, Merlin felt himself flush and go ice-cold with humiliation all at the same time.
He’d been so sure that was why Arthur had gone down this whole ‘fresh start’ route. But the look on Arthur’s face stopped him from saying anything.
“Would you like to go on a dog walk with me instead?” Arthur asked.
Knowing how much Arthur treasured that time alone, his one chance of peace from his stressful life, meant that Merlin didn’t underestimate what he’d just been asked. If Arthur was prepared to offer that, there was only one answer that Merlin could give.
