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Merlin - Thankful
Not sure how this came to be as Thanksgiving is so not my holiday of choice, but here you go anyway. (And yes, I know the whole British fandom/US celebration thing seems weird, but it's less about the day and more about the thanking.)
Title: Thankful
Genre: Modern AU/Reincarnation, Arthur/Merlin
Rating: PG-13
Length: ~625 words
Spoilers: Legends only
Synopsis: There are many things to be thankful for.
Author’s Notes: Smarmy fluff. Yes, there is a reference to a US holiday, but it does make sense, I swear.
Disclaimer: I do not own this interpretation of the myths and am making no profit from this.
Arthur blamed Merlin’s stint at an American university for his apparent love of the Thanksgiving holiday, for the man took to it with a fervour that was something more than the love to gorge himself on food.
“You do know it’s a celebration of those who broke away from England and that I, as the King of England, should probably not be taking part in such things,” Arthur pointed out. It did not stop him from pinching a morsel of stuffing as the plate went by, the calorie-laden concoction scalding against his fingers and savoury upon his tongue.
Merlin slapped his hand good-naturedly and reached for the next dish. “And you do know that you are no longer the king, correct?” he asked as he sorted out some cranberry thing that looked to have whole berries and was not even shaped like the tins from the shops.
“‘Once and Future’ I believe the legends say,” Arthur reminded him. He decidedly did not lick his lips at the smell of roasted turkey coming from the kitchen.
“Ah, yes, but not current,” Merlin teased. He donned a pair of oven mitts and pulled the bird out, tsked over it for a moment, and then shoved it back in to cook some more and closed the door.
Arthur made a mock pout and commented, “You do so love pointing that part out, don’t you?”
He felt himself pushed forward into Merlin’s embrace by invisible hands and looked up just in time to see the gold fade from blue eyes. Before he could comment that his lover was cheating, Merlin soothed him with a kiss to his still protruding lower lip and said, “Soon though, I promise.”
Arthur did not ask how Merlin knew, just as he did not ask how the wizard survived the centuries, or what he did while waiting aside from improving his cooking skills and travelling the globe. Merlin swore the others had come and gone several times over during those years, though Arthur remembered none of it, nothing save his time as prince and then king of Albion, his faithful and infuriating friend at his side. Merlin had apparently learned much during that time, some of which he shared with Arthur and some of which he kept to himself. It must have been terribly lonely, Arthur assumed, living on while others came and went, waiting for something that may not even be real. Merlin pretended it didn’t matter, but Arthur knew him far too well to believe it and was intent on making up for every last moment spent languishing in doubt.
Arthur eyed the little tomato-shaped timer on the counter and calculated out just how much time they had before the meal was ready and their guests arrived. It would be close, but they had found themselves in far more dire situations before and had survived to tell the tale. With a smile, he lowered his lips and tasted salt and spice and Merlin. His hands pushed the button-down shirt out of the way until he found skin and his fingers sought out the edges of the denim waistband, teasing and promising at the same time.
Merlin returned his attentions with enthusiasm, either not caring about their limited time or likely planning to manipulate said time until he got what he needed. Arthur grinned and pulled back just enough to suggest, “Do lose the oven mitts, yeah?”
Merlin laughed, real and ridiculous and true, and batted him about the head with one before returning to the current task at hand.
With good food cooking, centuries-old friends on their way, his lover in his arms, and the future yet to unfold before them all, Arthur decided he had much to be thankful for. Somehow, he thought Merlin felt the same.
End.
Feedback is always welcomed.
Title: Thankful
Genre: Modern AU/Reincarnation, Arthur/Merlin
Rating: PG-13
Length: ~625 words
Spoilers: Legends only
Synopsis: There are many things to be thankful for.
Author’s Notes: Smarmy fluff. Yes, there is a reference to a US holiday, but it does make sense, I swear.
Disclaimer: I do not own this interpretation of the myths and am making no profit from this.
Arthur blamed Merlin’s stint at an American university for his apparent love of the Thanksgiving holiday, for the man took to it with a fervour that was something more than the love to gorge himself on food.
“You do know it’s a celebration of those who broke away from England and that I, as the King of England, should probably not be taking part in such things,” Arthur pointed out. It did not stop him from pinching a morsel of stuffing as the plate went by, the calorie-laden concoction scalding against his fingers and savoury upon his tongue.
Merlin slapped his hand good-naturedly and reached for the next dish. “And you do know that you are no longer the king, correct?” he asked as he sorted out some cranberry thing that looked to have whole berries and was not even shaped like the tins from the shops.
“‘Once and Future’ I believe the legends say,” Arthur reminded him. He decidedly did not lick his lips at the smell of roasted turkey coming from the kitchen.
“Ah, yes, but not current,” Merlin teased. He donned a pair of oven mitts and pulled the bird out, tsked over it for a moment, and then shoved it back in to cook some more and closed the door.
Arthur made a mock pout and commented, “You do so love pointing that part out, don’t you?”
He felt himself pushed forward into Merlin’s embrace by invisible hands and looked up just in time to see the gold fade from blue eyes. Before he could comment that his lover was cheating, Merlin soothed him with a kiss to his still protruding lower lip and said, “Soon though, I promise.”
Arthur did not ask how Merlin knew, just as he did not ask how the wizard survived the centuries, or what he did while waiting aside from improving his cooking skills and travelling the globe. Merlin swore the others had come and gone several times over during those years, though Arthur remembered none of it, nothing save his time as prince and then king of Albion, his faithful and infuriating friend at his side. Merlin had apparently learned much during that time, some of which he shared with Arthur and some of which he kept to himself. It must have been terribly lonely, Arthur assumed, living on while others came and went, waiting for something that may not even be real. Merlin pretended it didn’t matter, but Arthur knew him far too well to believe it and was intent on making up for every last moment spent languishing in doubt.
Arthur eyed the little tomato-shaped timer on the counter and calculated out just how much time they had before the meal was ready and their guests arrived. It would be close, but they had found themselves in far more dire situations before and had survived to tell the tale. With a smile, he lowered his lips and tasted salt and spice and Merlin. His hands pushed the button-down shirt out of the way until he found skin and his fingers sought out the edges of the denim waistband, teasing and promising at the same time.
Merlin returned his attentions with enthusiasm, either not caring about their limited time or likely planning to manipulate said time until he got what he needed. Arthur grinned and pulled back just enough to suggest, “Do lose the oven mitts, yeah?”
Merlin laughed, real and ridiculous and true, and batted him about the head with one before returning to the current task at hand.
With good food cooking, centuries-old friends on their way, his lover in his arms, and the future yet to unfold before them all, Arthur decided he had much to be thankful for. Somehow, he thought Merlin felt the same.
End.
Feedback is always welcomed.