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Merlin - I Get By (With a Little Help from My Friends)
Title: I Get By (With a Little Help from My Friends)
Genre: Modern AU
Rating: PG-13
Length: ~9,000 words
Pairings: Arthur/Merlin, Gwen/Lance, Elena/Gwaine, general friendship all around
Synopsis: It’s a time of great change, so of course something should go horribly wrong. Good thing there are plenty of people to help see things through.
Author’s Notes: I had the joy of working with the awesome![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
nachte for ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
merlinreversebb. Her artwork was beautiful and her encouragement sublime.
Art Link: I Get By (With a Little Help from My Friends) - Please go check out and leave feedback for this awesome piece of art!
Disclaimer: We do not own this interpretation of the myths and are making no profit from this.
It was ridiculous, really. Almost everything was organised into nice and neat piles and ready to box up, the boxes themselves in a rather intimidating stack up against the wall. It should be an easy enough task to simply make the boxes, seal the edges, and stuff them full of all his belongings. Well, easy enough had he remembered the damned parcel tape.
His lessons from his introduction to psychology class rang in his ears and he was forced to wonder if he had done it to himself, had purposely forgotten something so small yet so important. Without the tape, there could be no boxes. Without the boxes, there could be no packing. Without the packing there could be no moving. Simple, right?
Except that the move date was only three days away. Except that they had plotted and planned this for so long. Except that it was truly ridiculous for both of them to keep separate flats when they so rarely spent a night apart. Except that his place really was quite small and cramped and the new place really was quite lovely and far more appropriate for a young businessman and a young researcher, both working for top firms, to live in. Except that Arthur really wanted this and Merlin kind of really did too and he so rarely could say no to the man who so rarely actually outright asked for anything.
And so Merlin sighed dramatically and bit the proverbial bullet. “You keep organising, I’ll go get the tape,” he offered.
“You sure?” Arthur asked, looking up from the mountain of newsprint and glassware. “I can run out if you need.”
Merlin shook his head and blindly grabbed for the keys and phone he kept on the little table next to the door. He made a mental note to remember to bring that thing too as it was so much a habit now to use it that he was certain to forget everything at the new place, all awash in change and everything. He shoved his belongings into the pockets of his jeans and tried to sound nonchalant as he said, “Nah, I got it. Need anything else while I’m out?”
“I’d say coffee for the morning, but I can’t remember where I put the pot,” Arthur laughed. His eyes crinkled at the edges just so, and Merlin could not help the way his heart felt warmed by such a simple act, or the way his lips quirked up into a smile of their own accord.
“I’ll see what I can do,” Merlin promised him before he closed the door behind him. He wondered if Arthur would stand the horrible instant stuff for a day even as he wondered why he could breathe far easier in the stuffy hallway than he could in his flat with all the windows open to the cool Autumn breeze.
He stepped into the rickety old lift and felt the familiar lurch to the left before it began its four storey descent and mentally chastised himself for being silly. It was nerves, plain and simple and he knew it. He was wary of change at the best of times, and this was most certainly a major change in his life. Having a flat of his own that he could escape to versus sharing an actual real house with Arthur with both having full access to all the nooks and crannies at all times? He loved him, really and truly, but he also loved his privacy.
Not that Arthur ever encroached as such. He gave him room when needed and understood when Merlin needed space to the point that he made certain their new soon-to-be home had an extra area that they planned to turn into a sort of study, and this was in addition to the common room that would house the couch Arthur himself preferred to curl up on when deep in thought or lost in a book.
The doors to the lift opened and Merlin realised he was being ridiculous again as he stepped over the little ridge the outdated thing always got from never lining up with the floor quite right – one of the things he was fairly certain he would not miss despite it becoming a near unconscious part of his everyday life. Arthur loved him. He loved Arthur. Moving in together was simply the next step. They had practically lived in each other’s pockets for the past three years anyway, so the whole apprehension thing made no sense at all.
He pushed it to the back of his mind and focused on the task at hand, that being getting to Tesco, finding a sweet or two for the both of them, and finding the damned parcel tape.
The tape was surprisingly easy to find for a change. The treats were more difficult as they seemed to be out of Arthur’s usual biscuits, but had the kind Merlin knew Arthur secretly liked but never got himself ever since his ever-loving half-sister told him they would make him fat. He grabbed those and a pint of milk and a small jar of the instant coffee just in case.
He paid and left and thought about how nice it was to have a boyfriend who would happily bury himself in paper and glass to help him out and how the biscuits were the least he could do in thanks and the stopping worrying about everything would likely be more welcome and so he was determined to do just that.
He made it to his soon-to-be-former home just as the front lights were turned on for the evening. He stepped back in to the lift after Mrs. Wilson wrestled her little trolley out of it and thought about warning her that the shops were closing but knew she wouldn’t listen anyway as she had yet to in the course of all these years so why should she start now?
He felt the lurch to the left and waited for the lurch to the right that signalled he had reached his destination. He felt a lurch alright, but not like he suspected. The entire lift tossed sharply to the side and then his stomach fluttered somewhere near his throat as he was falling, the emergency breaks making the most awful of squeals as they tried to compensate. With one final jut to the right, the thing stopped, but Merlin barely felt it as he finally gave in to the inevitable and crashed down hard onto his arse.
He blinked against the pain radiating up his spine and across the back of his head just as the dim red safety light flickered on. It tried its very best to reflect off the once shiny surfaces and Merlin thought he should respect the effort and try his best to haul himself to his feet. A quick check showed the milk was miraculously in one piece even if the biscuits were in more than they began, and he slung the bag over his arm and tried to right himself.
This experiment in productivity was set aside when his ankle erupted in near blinding pain and he very nearly dropped the very bag of goods for which he had just finished verifying the status.
He caught himself against the wall and lowered himself back down to the ground, trying hard not to think of what the various sticky things that surrounded him could be as he peered down at his offending appendage. After realising that no, he could not see through his pair of trainers or the fabric of his jeans, he set aside his bag of goods and drew his foot as close to him as he dared without actually putting much weight on it. It did not look particularly swollen, but it felt tight against the sides of his shoe and he knew well enough to realise that the whole swelling thing took time and that a few minutes was not quite enough for any damage to fully present itself.
There were other matters to attend to, including letting someone know that he was actually in the damned lift, so he set aside thoughts of whether his shoe would do more harm than good as it was and tried to figure out just how to contact the outside world. The CCTV camera was out. The only little red light was the emergency light and the usual sign of being watched was as dim as the shadows around him. There was a call box and, after making an agonising and potentially embarrassing should the CCTV not truly be out crawl across the short distance from one wall to the other, he really wished he was not surprised to find that down as well.
“Brilliant,” he sighed and flopped back against the nearest supportive surface. Unfortunately that was the wall and the first thing to connect was his head, which already felt a bit more than knocked around, so he winced and cursed and tried to think of something else to do.
He cursed again when he finally thought about the mobile in his pocket. He blamed the likely concussion for not thinking of it earlier, and fished it out with a silent prayer that it had survived the fall. The bit of machinery he found was in one piece, but it was unfortunately the wrong piece. He had somehow grabbed his iPod instead of his mobile, which meant he would have the company of music should he choose, but not an actual way to call Arthur and have his most awesome boyfriend rush to his rescue like the Prince Charming he liked to pretend he was.
He idly wondered if he would run out of cuss words by the time the night was over, and then remembered he had quite the repertoire to draw upon, so at least one thing should go well. He then wondered just how the hell he had not grabbed his mobile when he always put it in the same place, save for when he was at Arthur’s and left it on his kitchen table instead.
Which it was. Because they had been at Arthur’s just earlier that day and Merlin had noticed how low the charge was and had plugged it in with Arthur’s spare cord and promptly left the thing right next to the odd pewter trencher that had been a well-meaning gift from Arthur’s father that tended to hold their spare pens and pencils more than anything more classy or of aesthetic use.
Arthur. Of course his mind would go there. If Arthur were here, he would laugh and joke and maybe hold him and it wouldn’t matter if either of them forgot their mobiles because they would just talk to each other and keep each other company until either help arrived or someone on floor six desperately needed the lift and refused to use the stairs and noticed the damned thing was out.
He thought about the first time he met the man, and how obnoxious and full of himself he had thought the prat had been. He was right, of course, Arthur was full of himself and was quite the prat, but he was also quite gorgeous and funny and had this endearingly dorky little laugh and his eyes would crinkle just so when he found something amusing and he was always more than willing to buy his way out of a situation if given the chance, as Merlin quickly learned when their professor had the absurdity to assign them to the same group for a biology project.
Fast forward through multiple cutting remarks about Arthur being all posh and rich and Merlin being the polar opposite of those things to their first field study. They were running around in the muck gathering samples of this and that when, inevitably given Merlin’s customary lack of grace, he slid across some moss-covered stones and toppled down a short incline. Arthur had rushed down after him, supplies and personal safety be damned, and insisted on making sure he was okay. Declining the offer to be carried up like some damsel in distress draped across her hero’s broad arms, a compromise was reached and Arthur hauled him out of there across his back like one would a toddler or small child.
Merlin would later blame hitting his head for giving into the urge to kick Arthur lightly and urge him on like a horse, but considering the experience led to both a different sort of joking and a different sort of lesson in biology, not to mention one that continued for some time to come and long past the time his ankle actually healed, neither one of them truly argued the point.
It was only the first of many times Arthur had carried him around like that. Sometimes they would just be goofing around, other times Merlin would have stubbed his toe or affected some other small injury and Arthur would gallantly offer to rescue him, and soon enough both would be laughing and whatever small wrong would seem instantly righted and Arthur would not have needed to even pull out his cheque book..
Merlin rather wished for Arthur and his seemingly magical abilities now, but somehow doubted even he would be able to heal a likely well and truly sprained ankle with a tickle and a smile.
He called out a few times, and even banged on the door with his fists, but no one heard or at least no one responded in any way he could tell. With a sigh, he settled back again and wondered just how long Mrs. Wilson would be out before she would return and fuss about the lift, or if she would just give up after a few minutes and call for her son to come down and help her, leaving a nasty letter for the manager in payment for her troubles.
His ankle was really starting to hurt now, so he decided sod it all and removed the offending trainer. The skin was puffy and discoloured even in the little light he had with him and, after a thought of it likely going to waste anyway, he pulled out the pint of milk and placed the cool container against his overheated skin and both flinched and sighed at the sensation.
With nothing else to do, he dug out his iPod back out and pulled up one of the few games he had upon it to entertain himself until such time someone saw fit to rescue him. He got bored with Alchemy after making the fifty-first element and debated switching to the skee-ball game that usually just pissed him off and made him rant about how it was rigged to make you have to pay for the upgrade, but decided to switch to music instead and possibly eye the little tin of biscuits and wonder if Arthur would truly get angry with him for having one as it seemed to be getting quite late and his last meal was quite some time ago.
Biscuits broken into and a sip or two of milk used to wash them down, Merlin was starting to doze as he poked idly at his iPod. It made a noise that was most definitely not part of the current song and he remembered he had set it up long ago to chime whenever certain people tweeted each other. He was surprised that he even had a wireless connection, but remembered tapping into Edmund’s on the second storey’s more than once when his own got spotty and figured he must be near enough to get a signal. He pushed the little icon and winced at how many messages he had missed. At least he had something to do now, as he started scrolling through the list to see if he could find anything interesting to read.
About ten minutes or so later, he finally reached one with Arthur’s handle. It was just him mentioning how far he had gotten in wrapping, but no tape to be had. Lance had replied that he might have some to spare if needed, but Arthur mentioned Merlin’s quest to go find some. They seemed to have a bit of a conversation about the upcoming move, which ended with Arthur asking in precisely typed text just where the hell Merlin was as he should really be home by now.
“I’m stuck in a bloody lift!” Merlin exclaimed, knowing there was no one to hear him. Except there was. Because if he could read his Twitter account, then he could use his Twitter account. And this was something he possibly should have realised long before the battery hovered around the twenty percent mark. He typed out his response, erasing and retyping more than once because the keyboard on the screen really was tiny and the light really was poor and his head really did hurt and it did not take a physician to tell him he likely had a mild concussion, and he finally pressed send with a hint of triumph.
He really should have expected the slew of responses.
Approximately forty minutes later, the doors of the lift were prised open to reveal two fully bedecked maintenance workers, and one rather worried looking Arthur Pendragon. The safety light reflected off of his blond hair, giving him a bit of a halo effect, furthering the image of the guardian angel role he currently played. Merlin bit the inside of his cheek to prevent himself from saying such a thing aloud though, knowing Arthur would never let him live it down.
When Merlin was helped across the far more than slight ledge that had formed when the car truly did not line up with any known floor, he caught sight of himself in the dim glass, dark hair askew, milk moustache and a smear of chocolate at the side of his lips. Arthur simply looked over to him, worry still evident in his eyes, and shook his head before kissing Merlin’s forehead despite the small crowd of people that had formed around them.
“I got the tape,” Merlin replied cheekily despite the growing pain in his ankle from being jostled and the need to flinch from the bright lights aimed towards the now gaping maw of the lift. When that did not do the trick, he held up his bag of goods and offered, “Biscuit?”
He felt the lips pressed against his forehead curve into a smile and heard Arthur whisper, “Only you, Merlin, only you.”
The trip to Emergency took longer than Merlin had expected. His injury was not life-threatening, merely annoying, and so he was more than willing to wait whilst two people with far more serious wounds also relating to the apparent power outage were treated before him. Eventually though, he was seen and poked and prodded and given some fancy wrap for his ankle and crutches to use for at least until the swelling went down and even after that he was to keep the thing elevated and go easy on it until he received a physician’s permission to return to his usual duties.
Unfortunately, the move was to occur during this time period and there was no chance of rescheduling that just because he had been knocked about a bit.
Merlin fretted about that and wondered just how they were supposed to get anything done, especially now that an entire night had gone to waste what with the lift and the A and E and somehow Arthur had managed to both pick up some takeaway and gotten him back to his own flat before Merlin even realised they had gone in the opposite direction.
“The lift is out until at least tomorrow and there is no way you are getting up four flights of stairs on those things,” Arthur said in explanation as he fluffed some pillows and tucked the coverlet around him. They were some of the few things not already packed and ready and Merlin tried not to think of how barren and white the place looked without its customary décor.
“You could always carry me,” he offered with a grin that quickly turned to a wince when even the weight of the coverlet and requisite ice pack seemed too heavy against his propped up ankle.
Arthur sat down beside him and offered him the container of food and a little plastic fork given that all his dishes were already packed. “Carry you up four flights of stairs so that you can hobble around a flat with every square inch of floor-space covered by paper, breakables, or boxes, and make you sleep on a futon whose frame is already dismantled knowing there is no way you would even be able to get up from it even if you managed to get there without tripping and breaking everything you own?” he asked with raised eyebrows.
“Well, when you put it like that,” Merlin pouted. He poked at his takeaway after taking a few bites despite his earlier hunger and eventually gave in to Arthur’s probing look and admitted, “It’s just… how are we supposed to get any of this done if I can’t do my half of it and I’m in the wrong place anyway? At least I could stay up and help and maybe make up for this disaster of a night.”
Arthur shook his head, a hint of a smile upon his features. “You need to sleep and it’s nearly morning anyway. Take your meds and get some real rest and trust me to deal with it, yeah? It’s one night; we still have plenty of time,” he reasoned.
Merlin wasn’t sure if it was the warm food in his belly or the lingering effects of whatever he was given by the doctor or even his complete and utter exhaustion, but he relented for the time being. By the time he set his mostly empty container of food to the side he could barely keep his eyes open. He adjusted the pillows and tried to get comfortable and eventually sighed in contentment when Arthur lay down beside him and wrapped himself around him. There was so much to do still, and he had no idea how they were going to do any of it at this point, but perhaps things would become clearer after an actual night’s rest, even if it really wasn’t going to be night for much longer and the rest was at least partially drug-induced.
He awoke the next morning far later than he had intended to. The indent in the mattress next to him had grown cold, but the smell of freshly brewed coffee and slightly overcooked eggs told him Arthur had not gone far.
He threw the covers back and instantly regretted any attempt to stick to his usual morning routine when he was met with a wave of dizziness and a fresh spike of pain when he attempted to stand. Routine was routine though, so he forced himself to hobble to the loo, not trusting himself with the crutches just yet, and managed to make a minimal amount of mess in the process. He was not ready to attempt a shower on his own, especially considering he would need help with the wrap for his ankle, so he contented himself with washing his face and scrubbing his teeth for the time being.
He did not see the prescription bottle in the bathroom, so he returned to the bedroom to see if he left it there, only to find a slightly put upon Arthur balancing two plates, one of which was adorned with the tiny little pills he was to take. The plates were quickly set aside near two still steaming mugs, and Arthur slipped an arm around Merlin’s waist to help him back to the bed. At least Arthur waited until everything was situated again before he chided, “You could have asked for help.”
“It was the loo, really,” Merlin sighed. He wondered how he was to contribute to the move if he was not to be allowed to even pee on his own, and then wondered if he was overreacting and should take Arthur’s overprotective actions for what they likely were: his way of coping with the current situation.
He ate what he could of the eggs, the lingering dizziness making him more than slightly queasy, and dutifully took his pills with the offered coffee. He briefly questioned whether caffeine was good for a concussion, but figured the pain pills were probably worse and the doctor prescribed those, so perhaps his head was not as bad as all that.
Every time he glanced over to Arthur, he was met with an expression he could not quite read. It wasn’t pity, not really, and, besides, Arthur knew him well enough to know how he would tolerate that. It seemed more of a bit of worry mixed with a bit of what he called the “only you” look. Sure enough, coffee finished and time wasting, Merlin tossed the covers off to start the day for real this time and nearly tumbled from the bed. Arthur caught him easily and sighed, definitely fondly, and said, “Only you, Merlin.”
That, more than anything, told Merlin that all was right with the world.
Arthur helped him wash properly and did not even get handsy even though Merlin gave him plenty of opportunities. It was probably for the best as Merlin could not be certain which hand was which as Arthur appeared to have five of them at one point. He decided to keep the lingering sight issues quiet for now, but Arthur caught on when he reached for his crutches and ended up with a brush from the bureau instead.
Arthur did not believe Merlin’s petulant, “Maybe that’s what I wanted; proper grooming is very important,” and decided it was best not to mess with the crutches at all. He crouched down in front of where Merlin sat upon the bed and pulled him forward, wrapping his legs around his waist and standing so Merlin had to wrap his arms around Arthur’s neck or flop backwards like knackered trout. The familiarity of the action reminded him of the biology outing that had started it all, and he could not help but smile and press a kiss to the nape of his lover’s neck.
Arthur set him down on the sofa and handed him the remote for the telly whilst he dithered around with something that may have been the dishes in the kitchen. Merlin was not really interested in watching multiple images of Eastenders overlap each other, but he was interested in the pill bottle and discharge orders from the A and E. With a little squinting, he was able to read it right and proper, after which he was able to curse Arthur out right and proper for double-dosing him on the medication and likely making him far dizzier than he needed to be. Arthur insisted the doctor had said he could take up to two pills and Merlin pointed out the section that stated to start with one to test the tolerance and Arthur ended by apologising profusely and promising to make it up to him.
Which is how Merlin was able to talk Arthur into bringing him back to his own flat. He reasoned he could sit on the floor or one of the chairs and wrap the last of things without the need for heavy lifting or destroying things with his lack of grace on crutches. Arthur tried to stall but, when Merlin received a text from the Super that the lift was up and running again, better than new, Arthur could not put it off any longer.
It was well past lunch by the time they pulled up to the block of flats, though it was far more difficult to find a place to park than usual. Merlin eyed the lift warily, which was fine as Arthur did as well. A call to the Super had confirmed everything was in working order and he really did not fancy the four flights of steps, so summed up what little courage he felt he had and went for the less than shiny metal doors, wondering if it were possible to hold his breath for the duration of the travel. Arthur rested a hand on his shoulder though, and everything seemed to go off without even the customary lurch he had grown so accustomed to.
He reached for his keys after he hobbled off the successfully working lift, balancing precariously on the crutches, but found they were not needed as his door was propped open, light and something that sounded suspiciously like laughter spilling forth into the corridor. He was about to accuse Arthur of leaving his place open and free to vandals and thieves of all kind, but realised vandals and thieves rarely stayed so long, laughed so much, or sounded like his closest of friends.
He peered in to find a sort of organised chaos. Elena was stuffing boxes that Gwaine taped and sealed, Leon passed the finished product to Perce, who stacked them into an imposing tower that somehow had yet to topple on them all. Gwen and Lance appeared to be cleaning and scrubbing around them all, and randomly directing that this should go into this box and that into that. The last time he had seen everyone together in his tiny little flat, there had been far more alcohol and a great deal more mess, which may have explained why Gwen and Elena were most definitely the ones in charge this time around.
They cleared a space for his bewildered self, and Elena cooed over him whilst Gwen nudged Lance until he arranged a way for him to not only sit but to prop up his aching ankle. Gwaine made a show of plumping the pillow he found just right, but Leon cut to the heart of it all and asked, “Why the hell are you here? Shouldn’t you be passed out recuperating somewhere?”
“I was going to ask you the same thing,” he insisted. “Well, without the recuperating part. What is all this?” He gestured around him to encompass the room, the flat, and the friends so eagerly digging into it all.
“We thought you could use a bit of help,” Gwen answered for them all. Her curls were pulled back into a simple ponytail, and there was a smudge of something high on her cheek, and she did not look to be the slightest bothered by it all.
“I talked Arthur into giving me his key before you went to hospital,” Lance admitted. He did not even bother to look sheepish.
“I’m just here for the promise of free beer,” Gwaine chimed in. When Elena punched him in the arm for his effort, he amended that to, “And to help. Definitely to help.”
He did not know what to say to that other than a simple, “Thank you,” which seemed to suffice as everyone dug back in to what they had been doing before he got there.
Elena handed him a few baubles to wrap, even though he seemed to interrupt the flow she had going on, and he tried not to wonder what Arthur meant when he overheard him on the mobile telling someone, “Eight, well, nine if you count yourself.”
It was answered for him when, some time later, he answered the now-forgotten mobile to hear his partner’s sister on the line huffing, “If they want food, they better get their arses down here to help carry it up.”
Gwaine and Leon jumped at that, and shortly returned with Morgana and enough takeaway to feed a small army. There was still soda and beer in his fridge that needed to be drunk or packed up anyway, so they settled down and dug in.
Stories were shared and everyone tried to outdo each other with tales of the worst move ever. Gwen thought Merlin may have the prize for that with the lift incident, but Gwaine outdid them all with the story of his ex helpfully boxing his belongings, only for them to end up at a charity instead of his new, roach-infested flat. Leon had taken pity on him then and let him move in to sleep on the sofa until he could scrape up enough to afford a better place, and Merlin remembered shopping at the thrift store to find as much as they could of his original belongings as a surprise present.
Elena took a pull from her bottle of beer and made a face in Gwaine’s general direction though as she asked, “Do I even want to know what you did to this ex to earn this level of vindictiveness?”
Gwaine simply laughed and shook his head. “Probably not, no,” he agreed, and reached for another bottle.
Merlin had moved from the couch to his favourite old armchair to make room for the others, and he curled up as he watched them, laughing and joking and telling their tales. He knew this was not going to be the last time he saw them, but it was going to be the last big hurrah for his tiny little flat, and so he was determined to soak it all in and try to remember it all. There would be new memories at the new place, but there was a small voice at the back of his mind that asked if it would be the same, if they would make the trek versus the nearness of the flat, if slipping more into their professional lives meant slipping away from the casual camaraderie they had all grown so accustomed to.
Belly full and a fresh dose of pain medication in his system, he had not even realised he had drifted off to these thoughts until he awoke from a gentle prod to his side. He looked up to find Arthur gazing down at him knowingly, and the others gathering their belongings to leave. The place was packed and scrubbed as much as could be for now, his life all sorted into neat little boxes, taped and labelled.
He said his goodbyes and did not even roll his eyes that much when Gwaine ruffled his hair when he left. He felt like it was the end of an era of sorts, and so he only felt a little childish when he uncurled his aching muscles and tried to convince Arthur to let him spend one last night in his own place.
“Merlin,” Arthur sighed, not fooled in the least. “Your futon is in pieces and the mattress all wrapped up against the wall. Even if we unfolded it in this mess, I highly doubt you would be able to move again come morning, if you could even get to your feet from that low to the ground.”
Merlin eyed the roll of batting and calculated out the admittedly low chances, but still could not resist the urge to argue the point. Arthur’s counter argument was nearly identical to the one Merlin capitulated to the night before, only this time he had far less drugs and dizziness working against him, not to mention that he was already there and that should at least count for something.
Arthur knelt before him and wrapped his arms around him in possibly the world’s most awkward hug. “Everything is coming with, I promise you,” he said somewhere near the proximity of Merlin’s navel, cutting right to the heart of the matter. “Yeah, things are changing, but that does not mean things have to be different.”
Merlin pulled back and raised an eyebrow at his lover. “Arthur, different is the very definition of change,” he pointed out.
Arthur swatted at him playfully and both ignored the silent “idiot” that was exchanged between them. “You know what I mean,” Arthur insisted. “We’re moving, not dying. Our friends will still be only a call away, and you can still sleep on your futon in your new study if you really feel the need or if I really piss you off.”
“I know,” Merlin told him, and he did, he really did. “It’s just...” He trailed off, not knowing how to put his feelings into words.
It did not seem to matter though as Arthur wrapped his arms around him again and offered a muffled, “Yeah, I know.”
He hobbled back to Arthur’s place and let himself be tucked in to the big comfy bed that he really did love. He also let Arthur wrap himself around him, something he loved even more. He fell asleep awash in a feeling of comfort and contentment and wondered why he had been foolish enough to think such things depended on location when he already knew the only thing that mattered was the person he was with.
The next morning he awoke to the smell of bacon and coffee, and to the vision of grey skies that he really hoped were not a portent of things to come. The day planned was far less enjoyable than the day before, but it needed to be done and they only had a day left to do it, so he took a deep breath and resolved himself to face the worst.
He ate, he washed, and he let Arthur drive him to their new home with a sense of trepidation and a boot full of cleaning supplies. The small house was the perfect size for them and nearly the perfect location to their respective places of employment, but it had sat vacant for quite some time before they signed the papers to make it theirs, which meant a fair amount of dust and grime were sure to be had.
The previous owners had left a fair amount of some of the most hideous furniture Merlin had ever seen behind, likely wishing to forget such follies, but that meant Arthur and Merlin had to decide what to do with it. In anticipation of this very event, Merlin had made a list of what he remembered, split into three columns: keep, offer to friends, and burn and hope the wind took the ashes. Of course, he had originally planned to help Arthur with the arrangement of the pieces, but that was out the door at the moment. Perce had advised to just label the pieces and he would come early on move day to make sure things were out of the way, but Merlin felt guilty about using his friends in such a manner, even if said friends could probably bench press him without breaking a sweat.
So it was both a surprise and a non-surprise when Arthur pulled up to the kerb behind a car that looked all too familiar, and Gwen, Lance, and Perce all stood at the ready.
The big guy simply shrugged and offered, “I thought I could get a head start and make things easier for tomorrow.”
Gwen gave him a peck on the cheek and told him, “I thought you could use a little help.”
Lance, for his part, shouldered a bag that seemed to be full of tools and supplies and said, “Well, you know me, I go where she goes.”
Merlin smiled at the truthfulness and purity of the statement, as well as the utter loyalty and helpfulness of his dear friends. He smiled even more when not a single one of them said a word about him nearly falling on his face whilst attempting to negotiate the short set of steps that led to the front door.
He did not dare try the stairway to the upper level just yet, but he did do a walk/hobble through of the lower level with Arthur to suss out just what needed to be done and where. The few remaining furniture pieces were to be moved, the dust covers removed from about the place, and the whole thing scrubbed and vacuumed.
The others set him up in his study to start with, or at least what would become his study once the wall panels were reinstalled. For now, he had a clear view of the living room, main stairs, and even a glimpse into the kitchen through the supports, and one of the ugliest chaise lounges he had ever seen tucked to the side should he need a rest. He knew he was primarily out of the way more than actually helping, but he also knew he was at least being included, so there was that. Gwen kept checking in on him and asking his opinion on things, and then relaying his instructions to the others to do the heavy lifting.
Gwen called her brother Elyan in about halfway through the day as he was some sort of wiz at plumbing and the two faucets upstairs that they had not tried during their review of the property were less about flowing clear water and more about dripping brown clumps of sludge. He sorted those out in no time and took a look at the main water heater as well. He needed a part for one more thing that Merlin truly and utterly did not understand, but promised to return with it the next day.
From the look in Gwen’s eye, Merlin had the feeling her brother was about to be roped into helping with the heavy lifting the next day as well. He tried to warn Arthur, who not only saw nothing wrong with that, but said it was fair enough for the time he had helped Elyan move back in the days of Uni, reminding Merlin of just how long Arthur had known Elyan and Merlin had known Gwen. Given that Gwen and Lance were in the midst of a search for an upgrade to their own tiny flat, Merlin figured there would be plenty of payback to go around soon enough.
They were headed back to their cars and to the reward of dinner in an actual sit down restaurant, when Merlin nearly fell again, only this time it was truly not his fault. Arthur caught him and held him closer than needed to steady him, and Perce caught the culprit before he could escape.
“Aithusa!” a boy no more than eight cried as he ran right across the street and reached for the little terrier currently held securely in Perce’s arms. He barely blinked at the size difference between him and the man that held his prize, and began to babble, “I’m so sorry! She slipped her leash and ran away and you know how puppies can be and normally she’s really good but sometimes she just escapes, you know, and you are totally not going to tell my mum, right?”
Merlin looked down, past the mop of dark hair and the ever-so-earnest eyes and torn t-shirt and jeans, and could not help but laugh. The child reminded him of himself at that age, getting into more trouble than it was usually worth, trying to talk his way out of it, and, as always, trying to hide everything from his own mother.
“And you would be?” Arthur asked from where he still held Merlin.
“Oh!” the boy exclaimed as though just now realising he had forgotten his manners. “I’m Mordred and that’s my dog Aithusa and I live across the street with my mum. She’s a professor and knows all sorts of stuff and she’s the one who named our dog after some Greek something-or-another of light and told me the story about it but I can’t really remember and is your friend a giant because he’s like really big, and can I have my dog back?”
Now it was Arthur’s turn to laugh as he admitted, “I think I got about half of that.”
Perce gently lowered little Aithusa down so Mordred could grasp on to his collar and hopefully keep him in check. “You sure you got her now?” he verified as the child fought to hold the squirming mass of puppy.
“Uh-huh,” Mordred nodded. He paused and pursed his lips as if debating something and then asked, “So, are you a giant?”
“Half-giant, on his mother’s side only,” Arthur replied with mock seriousness. He earned wide eyes from the child and a smack on the arm hard enough to rock both him and Merlin for his efforts.
“Wow,” Mordred breathed. “That is so cool.”
The front door opened across the way and a less than amused mother peeked her head out to call her son home. “He’s not giving you any trouble, is he?” she asked doubtingly.
“Not at all,” Merlin assured her. “He was just showing us his dog, that’s all.” Quieter now, he told Mordred, “You better get home before she suspects anything.”
“Okay,” the boy nodded, readjusting his hold on the dog. “Thank you for catching her! And thank you for letting me meet a real life giant!”
“Half-giant,” Merlin corrected, continuing the game for now, especially considering there was no way Perce would do anything against him in his current condition.
“Still cool,” the boy called as he ran back across the street.
“You owe me dinner for that,” Perce said. He was smiling though, which meant it amused him as much as it amused everyone else.
“They were already buying us dinner,” Lance pointed out, wrapping an arm around Gwen when she leaned against him.
“Fine, they owe me a drink,” Perce amended.
Merlin tilted his head back against Arthur’s shoulder and stage-whispered, “Still worth it.”
“Oh, yeah,” Arthur agreed, earning him yet another swat.
Dinner was had and drinks were had and they possibly stayed up just a bit too late given what they knew to be a busy day ahead of them come morning. Eventually, they said their goodbyes and Arthur escorted Merlin back to his place, plied him with water and painkillers, and tucked the soft coverlet around him.
“We really doing this?” Merlin asked around a yawn.
Arthur smiled down at him fondly. “Well, it’s a little late to have second thoughts, what with the whole signing the contract, putting down more pounds than either one of us has ever spent in our lives, and allowing our leases to expire on the flats,” he mused.
Merlin thought that over for a moment, and nodded, even if it did come across more like burrowing deeper into the pillow. “Well then, I guess that’s decided,” he considered.
Arthur simply laughed and climbed in next to him, held him close, and made him forget that this was technically their last night not being together as it had been so long since they were really separate at all.
He awoke the next morning not to the scent of breakfast, but to the incessant beeping of Arthur’s alarm. He may have possibly dragged his feet getting ready, or at least foot as one was still quite out of commission, but he hoped to pass that off as due to lack of caffeine versus reluctance to leave Arthur’s place behind.
He was still pulling on a t-shirt over his thermal given the chill in the air that heralded the coming Autumn when people started to arrive. He barely even got the chance to muse about how his last night “on his own” was technically days ago before coffee and pastries were being shoved under his nose and no fewer than three voices told him to get a move on already as time was wasting.
Things became a blur of movement after that. He was relegated to the director job as he tried to control the flow of objects out of the flat and into the waiting vehicles. He ventured down early into the process to try to arrange everything to fit as much as possible in as few trips as possible, but Morgana had taken control of that aspect and sent him back to the flat to handle things from there. Eventually, the two of them sent each other messages on their mobiles requesting this or that or one more package of no more than one foot wide or another blanket to wrap around something and pad the empty spaces. Soon enough “empty” was the key word as white walls and beige carpeting were near all that remained of Merlin’s place, and Arthur’s was not faring much better.
By the time Merlin finally made it over to their new house, several of the others had already been there for quite some time. The floors were nearly shining after being scrubbed even cleaner than the night before, which was ridiculous as people were just going to track mud and dirt in over the course of the day. Elyan’s tool set sat off to the side, broken and rusted pipes beside it, which Merlin took to mean he had already finished the repairs and was being roped into doing more. Gwen had a tool set of her own out, right next to a neat stack of the little panels Merlin had not thought they would get to for days at least, if not weeks.
Most importantly though, the house was beginning to look far less like a set of barren rooms and far more like a home. Arthur’s table was set in the kitchen, ridiculous trencher already atop it, covered with layout notes of just what was to go where and what was left to do. Someone had unwrapped and propped up the series of framed photos along the lounge wall, a timeline not only of Arthur and Merlin’s life together, but that of their friends as well. They had even placed Merlin’s little wooden stand for his mobile and keys next to the front door, even though it was sure to prove to be in the way as most of the big furniture and boxes had yet to be unloaded.
Of course, it was not to stay that way for long. Elena and Gwaine began to unload the boxes and Perce and Leon took the furniture. Gwen went to grab a box but was assured by her brother that everything was under control, so she returned to her project with the walls, recruiting Lance as her second set of hands. Merlin tried to direct as much as he could, nearly taking out a lamp when he made the mistake of pointing with one of his crutches instead of his hands. Morgana insisted she was doing just fine and he could simply stay where he was, but he was both a bit put out about not having a say and forced to wonder how much she was concentrating on the task at hand and how much she was concentrating on flirting with Leon.
Arthur either took pity on him or was feeling as giddy as he was about their home shaping up into something real and tangible, and he tucked Merlin’s crutches out of the way and hauled him up on his back to lead him through the chaos and hopefully guide said chaos back into some coherent direction. Merlin laughed as they dodged around Elyan and Elena, checked in on Gwen and Lance, and tried their damnedest to avoid the cushions Gwaine was “helping” Perce with by batting him about the head with them.
Their goal was to make it to the stairway that led to the upper level to see what still needed to be done there, but this goal was hampered when someone new decided to join in the fun, a shrill cry of, “Aithusa!” their only warning before a mass of fur darted between Arthur’s legs and nearly caused them both to go crashing to the floor had it not been for the combined reflexes of Perce and Gwaine.
Sure enough, Mordred from across the way appeared in the doorway, too young to bother with the niceties of permission before he scampered right in after his dog. The others alternatively laughed and tried to get out of his way with some attempts more successful than others and some ending in a face full of slobber and a rather apologetic eight year old.
Merlin took in the scene, still draped over Arthur’s back and held securely in his better half’s arms. He leaned forward and let his lips brush against Arthur’s ear as he whispered, “Home sweet home?”
Arthur laughed, loud and bold and amended, “Maybe not yet, but we’re getting there.”
Later that night, surrounded by the detritus of boxes and wrappings and take out containers, Merlin curled up on the sofa next to Arthur and gazed out about the place, their place together. He saw pieces from his flat and from his life mingled with pieces of Arthur’s all mingled with pieces that he honestly could not remember who got when or who got who. Mixed in were Morgana’s scarf and Gwen’s hair clip and bottles of Gwaine and Elena’s favourite beer and one of Elyan’s wrenches and one of Lance’s hammers and the biscuits that both Leon and Perce preferred. They were all coming back the next day, and perhaps even the day after that, to finish setting everything up and finish everything they did not get to what with goofing around as much as making any real progress.
Merlin poked at the afghan his mother had made him around the time he passed his A Levels and looked over at the overstuffed chair Arthur always like to sit in when he watched footie. He was fairly certain it was not just the painkillers playing a role when he nudged Arthur in the side and whispered, “I think we made it.”
Arthur pulled him closer until he was nestled against him an agreed, “I think you’re right.”
End.
Feedback is always welcomed.
Genre: Modern AU
Rating: PG-13
Length: ~9,000 words
Pairings: Arthur/Merlin, Gwen/Lance, Elena/Gwaine, general friendship all around
Synopsis: It’s a time of great change, so of course something should go horribly wrong. Good thing there are plenty of people to help see things through.
Author’s Notes: I had the joy of working with the awesome
nachte for merlinreversebb. Her artwork was beautiful and her encouragement sublime.Art Link: I Get By (With a Little Help from My Friends) - Please go check out and leave feedback for this awesome piece of art!
Disclaimer: We do not own this interpretation of the myths and are making no profit from this.
It was ridiculous, really. Almost everything was organised into nice and neat piles and ready to box up, the boxes themselves in a rather intimidating stack up against the wall. It should be an easy enough task to simply make the boxes, seal the edges, and stuff them full of all his belongings. Well, easy enough had he remembered the damned parcel tape.
His lessons from his introduction to psychology class rang in his ears and he was forced to wonder if he had done it to himself, had purposely forgotten something so small yet so important. Without the tape, there could be no boxes. Without the boxes, there could be no packing. Without the packing there could be no moving. Simple, right?
Except that the move date was only three days away. Except that they had plotted and planned this for so long. Except that it was truly ridiculous for both of them to keep separate flats when they so rarely spent a night apart. Except that his place really was quite small and cramped and the new place really was quite lovely and far more appropriate for a young businessman and a young researcher, both working for top firms, to live in. Except that Arthur really wanted this and Merlin kind of really did too and he so rarely could say no to the man who so rarely actually outright asked for anything.
And so Merlin sighed dramatically and bit the proverbial bullet. “You keep organising, I’ll go get the tape,” he offered.
“You sure?” Arthur asked, looking up from the mountain of newsprint and glassware. “I can run out if you need.”
Merlin shook his head and blindly grabbed for the keys and phone he kept on the little table next to the door. He made a mental note to remember to bring that thing too as it was so much a habit now to use it that he was certain to forget everything at the new place, all awash in change and everything. He shoved his belongings into the pockets of his jeans and tried to sound nonchalant as he said, “Nah, I got it. Need anything else while I’m out?”
“I’d say coffee for the morning, but I can’t remember where I put the pot,” Arthur laughed. His eyes crinkled at the edges just so, and Merlin could not help the way his heart felt warmed by such a simple act, or the way his lips quirked up into a smile of their own accord.
“I’ll see what I can do,” Merlin promised him before he closed the door behind him. He wondered if Arthur would stand the horrible instant stuff for a day even as he wondered why he could breathe far easier in the stuffy hallway than he could in his flat with all the windows open to the cool Autumn breeze.
He stepped into the rickety old lift and felt the familiar lurch to the left before it began its four storey descent and mentally chastised himself for being silly. It was nerves, plain and simple and he knew it. He was wary of change at the best of times, and this was most certainly a major change in his life. Having a flat of his own that he could escape to versus sharing an actual real house with Arthur with both having full access to all the nooks and crannies at all times? He loved him, really and truly, but he also loved his privacy.
Not that Arthur ever encroached as such. He gave him room when needed and understood when Merlin needed space to the point that he made certain their new soon-to-be home had an extra area that they planned to turn into a sort of study, and this was in addition to the common room that would house the couch Arthur himself preferred to curl up on when deep in thought or lost in a book.
The doors to the lift opened and Merlin realised he was being ridiculous again as he stepped over the little ridge the outdated thing always got from never lining up with the floor quite right – one of the things he was fairly certain he would not miss despite it becoming a near unconscious part of his everyday life. Arthur loved him. He loved Arthur. Moving in together was simply the next step. They had practically lived in each other’s pockets for the past three years anyway, so the whole apprehension thing made no sense at all.
He pushed it to the back of his mind and focused on the task at hand, that being getting to Tesco, finding a sweet or two for the both of them, and finding the damned parcel tape.
The tape was surprisingly easy to find for a change. The treats were more difficult as they seemed to be out of Arthur’s usual biscuits, but had the kind Merlin knew Arthur secretly liked but never got himself ever since his ever-loving half-sister told him they would make him fat. He grabbed those and a pint of milk and a small jar of the instant coffee just in case.
He paid and left and thought about how nice it was to have a boyfriend who would happily bury himself in paper and glass to help him out and how the biscuits were the least he could do in thanks and the stopping worrying about everything would likely be more welcome and so he was determined to do just that.
He made it to his soon-to-be-former home just as the front lights were turned on for the evening. He stepped back in to the lift after Mrs. Wilson wrestled her little trolley out of it and thought about warning her that the shops were closing but knew she wouldn’t listen anyway as she had yet to in the course of all these years so why should she start now?
He felt the lurch to the left and waited for the lurch to the right that signalled he had reached his destination. He felt a lurch alright, but not like he suspected. The entire lift tossed sharply to the side and then his stomach fluttered somewhere near his throat as he was falling, the emergency breaks making the most awful of squeals as they tried to compensate. With one final jut to the right, the thing stopped, but Merlin barely felt it as he finally gave in to the inevitable and crashed down hard onto his arse.
He blinked against the pain radiating up his spine and across the back of his head just as the dim red safety light flickered on. It tried its very best to reflect off the once shiny surfaces and Merlin thought he should respect the effort and try his best to haul himself to his feet. A quick check showed the milk was miraculously in one piece even if the biscuits were in more than they began, and he slung the bag over his arm and tried to right himself.
This experiment in productivity was set aside when his ankle erupted in near blinding pain and he very nearly dropped the very bag of goods for which he had just finished verifying the status.
He caught himself against the wall and lowered himself back down to the ground, trying hard not to think of what the various sticky things that surrounded him could be as he peered down at his offending appendage. After realising that no, he could not see through his pair of trainers or the fabric of his jeans, he set aside his bag of goods and drew his foot as close to him as he dared without actually putting much weight on it. It did not look particularly swollen, but it felt tight against the sides of his shoe and he knew well enough to realise that the whole swelling thing took time and that a few minutes was not quite enough for any damage to fully present itself.
There were other matters to attend to, including letting someone know that he was actually in the damned lift, so he set aside thoughts of whether his shoe would do more harm than good as it was and tried to figure out just how to contact the outside world. The CCTV camera was out. The only little red light was the emergency light and the usual sign of being watched was as dim as the shadows around him. There was a call box and, after making an agonising and potentially embarrassing should the CCTV not truly be out crawl across the short distance from one wall to the other, he really wished he was not surprised to find that down as well.
“Brilliant,” he sighed and flopped back against the nearest supportive surface. Unfortunately that was the wall and the first thing to connect was his head, which already felt a bit more than knocked around, so he winced and cursed and tried to think of something else to do.
He cursed again when he finally thought about the mobile in his pocket. He blamed the likely concussion for not thinking of it earlier, and fished it out with a silent prayer that it had survived the fall. The bit of machinery he found was in one piece, but it was unfortunately the wrong piece. He had somehow grabbed his iPod instead of his mobile, which meant he would have the company of music should he choose, but not an actual way to call Arthur and have his most awesome boyfriend rush to his rescue like the Prince Charming he liked to pretend he was.
He idly wondered if he would run out of cuss words by the time the night was over, and then remembered he had quite the repertoire to draw upon, so at least one thing should go well. He then wondered just how the hell he had not grabbed his mobile when he always put it in the same place, save for when he was at Arthur’s and left it on his kitchen table instead.
Which it was. Because they had been at Arthur’s just earlier that day and Merlin had noticed how low the charge was and had plugged it in with Arthur’s spare cord and promptly left the thing right next to the odd pewter trencher that had been a well-meaning gift from Arthur’s father that tended to hold their spare pens and pencils more than anything more classy or of aesthetic use.
Arthur. Of course his mind would go there. If Arthur were here, he would laugh and joke and maybe hold him and it wouldn’t matter if either of them forgot their mobiles because they would just talk to each other and keep each other company until either help arrived or someone on floor six desperately needed the lift and refused to use the stairs and noticed the damned thing was out.
He thought about the first time he met the man, and how obnoxious and full of himself he had thought the prat had been. He was right, of course, Arthur was full of himself and was quite the prat, but he was also quite gorgeous and funny and had this endearingly dorky little laugh and his eyes would crinkle just so when he found something amusing and he was always more than willing to buy his way out of a situation if given the chance, as Merlin quickly learned when their professor had the absurdity to assign them to the same group for a biology project.
Fast forward through multiple cutting remarks about Arthur being all posh and rich and Merlin being the polar opposite of those things to their first field study. They were running around in the muck gathering samples of this and that when, inevitably given Merlin’s customary lack of grace, he slid across some moss-covered stones and toppled down a short incline. Arthur had rushed down after him, supplies and personal safety be damned, and insisted on making sure he was okay. Declining the offer to be carried up like some damsel in distress draped across her hero’s broad arms, a compromise was reached and Arthur hauled him out of there across his back like one would a toddler or small child.
Merlin would later blame hitting his head for giving into the urge to kick Arthur lightly and urge him on like a horse, but considering the experience led to both a different sort of joking and a different sort of lesson in biology, not to mention one that continued for some time to come and long past the time his ankle actually healed, neither one of them truly argued the point.
It was only the first of many times Arthur had carried him around like that. Sometimes they would just be goofing around, other times Merlin would have stubbed his toe or affected some other small injury and Arthur would gallantly offer to rescue him, and soon enough both would be laughing and whatever small wrong would seem instantly righted and Arthur would not have needed to even pull out his cheque book..
Merlin rather wished for Arthur and his seemingly magical abilities now, but somehow doubted even he would be able to heal a likely well and truly sprained ankle with a tickle and a smile.
He called out a few times, and even banged on the door with his fists, but no one heard or at least no one responded in any way he could tell. With a sigh, he settled back again and wondered just how long Mrs. Wilson would be out before she would return and fuss about the lift, or if she would just give up after a few minutes and call for her son to come down and help her, leaving a nasty letter for the manager in payment for her troubles.
His ankle was really starting to hurt now, so he decided sod it all and removed the offending trainer. The skin was puffy and discoloured even in the little light he had with him and, after a thought of it likely going to waste anyway, he pulled out the pint of milk and placed the cool container against his overheated skin and both flinched and sighed at the sensation.
With nothing else to do, he dug out his iPod back out and pulled up one of the few games he had upon it to entertain himself until such time someone saw fit to rescue him. He got bored with Alchemy after making the fifty-first element and debated switching to the skee-ball game that usually just pissed him off and made him rant about how it was rigged to make you have to pay for the upgrade, but decided to switch to music instead and possibly eye the little tin of biscuits and wonder if Arthur would truly get angry with him for having one as it seemed to be getting quite late and his last meal was quite some time ago.
Biscuits broken into and a sip or two of milk used to wash them down, Merlin was starting to doze as he poked idly at his iPod. It made a noise that was most definitely not part of the current song and he remembered he had set it up long ago to chime whenever certain people tweeted each other. He was surprised that he even had a wireless connection, but remembered tapping into Edmund’s on the second storey’s more than once when his own got spotty and figured he must be near enough to get a signal. He pushed the little icon and winced at how many messages he had missed. At least he had something to do now, as he started scrolling through the list to see if he could find anything interesting to read.
About ten minutes or so later, he finally reached one with Arthur’s handle. It was just him mentioning how far he had gotten in wrapping, but no tape to be had. Lance had replied that he might have some to spare if needed, but Arthur mentioned Merlin’s quest to go find some. They seemed to have a bit of a conversation about the upcoming move, which ended with Arthur asking in precisely typed text just where the hell Merlin was as he should really be home by now.
“I’m stuck in a bloody lift!” Merlin exclaimed, knowing there was no one to hear him. Except there was. Because if he could read his Twitter account, then he could use his Twitter account. And this was something he possibly should have realised long before the battery hovered around the twenty percent mark. He typed out his response, erasing and retyping more than once because the keyboard on the screen really was tiny and the light really was poor and his head really did hurt and it did not take a physician to tell him he likely had a mild concussion, and he finally pressed send with a hint of triumph.
He really should have expected the slew of responses.
Approximately forty minutes later, the doors of the lift were prised open to reveal two fully bedecked maintenance workers, and one rather worried looking Arthur Pendragon. The safety light reflected off of his blond hair, giving him a bit of a halo effect, furthering the image of the guardian angel role he currently played. Merlin bit the inside of his cheek to prevent himself from saying such a thing aloud though, knowing Arthur would never let him live it down.
When Merlin was helped across the far more than slight ledge that had formed when the car truly did not line up with any known floor, he caught sight of himself in the dim glass, dark hair askew, milk moustache and a smear of chocolate at the side of his lips. Arthur simply looked over to him, worry still evident in his eyes, and shook his head before kissing Merlin’s forehead despite the small crowd of people that had formed around them.
“I got the tape,” Merlin replied cheekily despite the growing pain in his ankle from being jostled and the need to flinch from the bright lights aimed towards the now gaping maw of the lift. When that did not do the trick, he held up his bag of goods and offered, “Biscuit?”
He felt the lips pressed against his forehead curve into a smile and heard Arthur whisper, “Only you, Merlin, only you.”
The trip to Emergency took longer than Merlin had expected. His injury was not life-threatening, merely annoying, and so he was more than willing to wait whilst two people with far more serious wounds also relating to the apparent power outage were treated before him. Eventually though, he was seen and poked and prodded and given some fancy wrap for his ankle and crutches to use for at least until the swelling went down and even after that he was to keep the thing elevated and go easy on it until he received a physician’s permission to return to his usual duties.
Unfortunately, the move was to occur during this time period and there was no chance of rescheduling that just because he had been knocked about a bit.
Merlin fretted about that and wondered just how they were supposed to get anything done, especially now that an entire night had gone to waste what with the lift and the A and E and somehow Arthur had managed to both pick up some takeaway and gotten him back to his own flat before Merlin even realised they had gone in the opposite direction.
“The lift is out until at least tomorrow and there is no way you are getting up four flights of stairs on those things,” Arthur said in explanation as he fluffed some pillows and tucked the coverlet around him. They were some of the few things not already packed and ready and Merlin tried not to think of how barren and white the place looked without its customary décor.
“You could always carry me,” he offered with a grin that quickly turned to a wince when even the weight of the coverlet and requisite ice pack seemed too heavy against his propped up ankle.
Arthur sat down beside him and offered him the container of food and a little plastic fork given that all his dishes were already packed. “Carry you up four flights of stairs so that you can hobble around a flat with every square inch of floor-space covered by paper, breakables, or boxes, and make you sleep on a futon whose frame is already dismantled knowing there is no way you would even be able to get up from it even if you managed to get there without tripping and breaking everything you own?” he asked with raised eyebrows.
“Well, when you put it like that,” Merlin pouted. He poked at his takeaway after taking a few bites despite his earlier hunger and eventually gave in to Arthur’s probing look and admitted, “It’s just… how are we supposed to get any of this done if I can’t do my half of it and I’m in the wrong place anyway? At least I could stay up and help and maybe make up for this disaster of a night.”
Arthur shook his head, a hint of a smile upon his features. “You need to sleep and it’s nearly morning anyway. Take your meds and get some real rest and trust me to deal with it, yeah? It’s one night; we still have plenty of time,” he reasoned.
Merlin wasn’t sure if it was the warm food in his belly or the lingering effects of whatever he was given by the doctor or even his complete and utter exhaustion, but he relented for the time being. By the time he set his mostly empty container of food to the side he could barely keep his eyes open. He adjusted the pillows and tried to get comfortable and eventually sighed in contentment when Arthur lay down beside him and wrapped himself around him. There was so much to do still, and he had no idea how they were going to do any of it at this point, but perhaps things would become clearer after an actual night’s rest, even if it really wasn’t going to be night for much longer and the rest was at least partially drug-induced.
He awoke the next morning far later than he had intended to. The indent in the mattress next to him had grown cold, but the smell of freshly brewed coffee and slightly overcooked eggs told him Arthur had not gone far.
He threw the covers back and instantly regretted any attempt to stick to his usual morning routine when he was met with a wave of dizziness and a fresh spike of pain when he attempted to stand. Routine was routine though, so he forced himself to hobble to the loo, not trusting himself with the crutches just yet, and managed to make a minimal amount of mess in the process. He was not ready to attempt a shower on his own, especially considering he would need help with the wrap for his ankle, so he contented himself with washing his face and scrubbing his teeth for the time being.
He did not see the prescription bottle in the bathroom, so he returned to the bedroom to see if he left it there, only to find a slightly put upon Arthur balancing two plates, one of which was adorned with the tiny little pills he was to take. The plates were quickly set aside near two still steaming mugs, and Arthur slipped an arm around Merlin’s waist to help him back to the bed. At least Arthur waited until everything was situated again before he chided, “You could have asked for help.”
“It was the loo, really,” Merlin sighed. He wondered how he was to contribute to the move if he was not to be allowed to even pee on his own, and then wondered if he was overreacting and should take Arthur’s overprotective actions for what they likely were: his way of coping with the current situation.
He ate what he could of the eggs, the lingering dizziness making him more than slightly queasy, and dutifully took his pills with the offered coffee. He briefly questioned whether caffeine was good for a concussion, but figured the pain pills were probably worse and the doctor prescribed those, so perhaps his head was not as bad as all that.
Every time he glanced over to Arthur, he was met with an expression he could not quite read. It wasn’t pity, not really, and, besides, Arthur knew him well enough to know how he would tolerate that. It seemed more of a bit of worry mixed with a bit of what he called the “only you” look. Sure enough, coffee finished and time wasting, Merlin tossed the covers off to start the day for real this time and nearly tumbled from the bed. Arthur caught him easily and sighed, definitely fondly, and said, “Only you, Merlin.”
That, more than anything, told Merlin that all was right with the world.
Arthur helped him wash properly and did not even get handsy even though Merlin gave him plenty of opportunities. It was probably for the best as Merlin could not be certain which hand was which as Arthur appeared to have five of them at one point. He decided to keep the lingering sight issues quiet for now, but Arthur caught on when he reached for his crutches and ended up with a brush from the bureau instead.
Arthur did not believe Merlin’s petulant, “Maybe that’s what I wanted; proper grooming is very important,” and decided it was best not to mess with the crutches at all. He crouched down in front of where Merlin sat upon the bed and pulled him forward, wrapping his legs around his waist and standing so Merlin had to wrap his arms around Arthur’s neck or flop backwards like knackered trout. The familiarity of the action reminded him of the biology outing that had started it all, and he could not help but smile and press a kiss to the nape of his lover’s neck.
Arthur set him down on the sofa and handed him the remote for the telly whilst he dithered around with something that may have been the dishes in the kitchen. Merlin was not really interested in watching multiple images of Eastenders overlap each other, but he was interested in the pill bottle and discharge orders from the A and E. With a little squinting, he was able to read it right and proper, after which he was able to curse Arthur out right and proper for double-dosing him on the medication and likely making him far dizzier than he needed to be. Arthur insisted the doctor had said he could take up to two pills and Merlin pointed out the section that stated to start with one to test the tolerance and Arthur ended by apologising profusely and promising to make it up to him.
Which is how Merlin was able to talk Arthur into bringing him back to his own flat. He reasoned he could sit on the floor or one of the chairs and wrap the last of things without the need for heavy lifting or destroying things with his lack of grace on crutches. Arthur tried to stall but, when Merlin received a text from the Super that the lift was up and running again, better than new, Arthur could not put it off any longer.
It was well past lunch by the time they pulled up to the block of flats, though it was far more difficult to find a place to park than usual. Merlin eyed the lift warily, which was fine as Arthur did as well. A call to the Super had confirmed everything was in working order and he really did not fancy the four flights of steps, so summed up what little courage he felt he had and went for the less than shiny metal doors, wondering if it were possible to hold his breath for the duration of the travel. Arthur rested a hand on his shoulder though, and everything seemed to go off without even the customary lurch he had grown so accustomed to.
He reached for his keys after he hobbled off the successfully working lift, balancing precariously on the crutches, but found they were not needed as his door was propped open, light and something that sounded suspiciously like laughter spilling forth into the corridor. He was about to accuse Arthur of leaving his place open and free to vandals and thieves of all kind, but realised vandals and thieves rarely stayed so long, laughed so much, or sounded like his closest of friends.
He peered in to find a sort of organised chaos. Elena was stuffing boxes that Gwaine taped and sealed, Leon passed the finished product to Perce, who stacked them into an imposing tower that somehow had yet to topple on them all. Gwen and Lance appeared to be cleaning and scrubbing around them all, and randomly directing that this should go into this box and that into that. The last time he had seen everyone together in his tiny little flat, there had been far more alcohol and a great deal more mess, which may have explained why Gwen and Elena were most definitely the ones in charge this time around.
They cleared a space for his bewildered self, and Elena cooed over him whilst Gwen nudged Lance until he arranged a way for him to not only sit but to prop up his aching ankle. Gwaine made a show of plumping the pillow he found just right, but Leon cut to the heart of it all and asked, “Why the hell are you here? Shouldn’t you be passed out recuperating somewhere?”
“I was going to ask you the same thing,” he insisted. “Well, without the recuperating part. What is all this?” He gestured around him to encompass the room, the flat, and the friends so eagerly digging into it all.
“We thought you could use a bit of help,” Gwen answered for them all. Her curls were pulled back into a simple ponytail, and there was a smudge of something high on her cheek, and she did not look to be the slightest bothered by it all.
“I talked Arthur into giving me his key before you went to hospital,” Lance admitted. He did not even bother to look sheepish.
“I’m just here for the promise of free beer,” Gwaine chimed in. When Elena punched him in the arm for his effort, he amended that to, “And to help. Definitely to help.”
He did not know what to say to that other than a simple, “Thank you,” which seemed to suffice as everyone dug back in to what they had been doing before he got there.
Elena handed him a few baubles to wrap, even though he seemed to interrupt the flow she had going on, and he tried not to wonder what Arthur meant when he overheard him on the mobile telling someone, “Eight, well, nine if you count yourself.”
It was answered for him when, some time later, he answered the now-forgotten mobile to hear his partner’s sister on the line huffing, “If they want food, they better get their arses down here to help carry it up.”
Gwaine and Leon jumped at that, and shortly returned with Morgana and enough takeaway to feed a small army. There was still soda and beer in his fridge that needed to be drunk or packed up anyway, so they settled down and dug in.
Stories were shared and everyone tried to outdo each other with tales of the worst move ever. Gwen thought Merlin may have the prize for that with the lift incident, but Gwaine outdid them all with the story of his ex helpfully boxing his belongings, only for them to end up at a charity instead of his new, roach-infested flat. Leon had taken pity on him then and let him move in to sleep on the sofa until he could scrape up enough to afford a better place, and Merlin remembered shopping at the thrift store to find as much as they could of his original belongings as a surprise present.
Elena took a pull from her bottle of beer and made a face in Gwaine’s general direction though as she asked, “Do I even want to know what you did to this ex to earn this level of vindictiveness?”
Gwaine simply laughed and shook his head. “Probably not, no,” he agreed, and reached for another bottle.
Merlin had moved from the couch to his favourite old armchair to make room for the others, and he curled up as he watched them, laughing and joking and telling their tales. He knew this was not going to be the last time he saw them, but it was going to be the last big hurrah for his tiny little flat, and so he was determined to soak it all in and try to remember it all. There would be new memories at the new place, but there was a small voice at the back of his mind that asked if it would be the same, if they would make the trek versus the nearness of the flat, if slipping more into their professional lives meant slipping away from the casual camaraderie they had all grown so accustomed to.
Belly full and a fresh dose of pain medication in his system, he had not even realised he had drifted off to these thoughts until he awoke from a gentle prod to his side. He looked up to find Arthur gazing down at him knowingly, and the others gathering their belongings to leave. The place was packed and scrubbed as much as could be for now, his life all sorted into neat little boxes, taped and labelled.
He said his goodbyes and did not even roll his eyes that much when Gwaine ruffled his hair when he left. He felt like it was the end of an era of sorts, and so he only felt a little childish when he uncurled his aching muscles and tried to convince Arthur to let him spend one last night in his own place.
“Merlin,” Arthur sighed, not fooled in the least. “Your futon is in pieces and the mattress all wrapped up against the wall. Even if we unfolded it in this mess, I highly doubt you would be able to move again come morning, if you could even get to your feet from that low to the ground.”
Merlin eyed the roll of batting and calculated out the admittedly low chances, but still could not resist the urge to argue the point. Arthur’s counter argument was nearly identical to the one Merlin capitulated to the night before, only this time he had far less drugs and dizziness working against him, not to mention that he was already there and that should at least count for something.
Arthur knelt before him and wrapped his arms around him in possibly the world’s most awkward hug. “Everything is coming with, I promise you,” he said somewhere near the proximity of Merlin’s navel, cutting right to the heart of the matter. “Yeah, things are changing, but that does not mean things have to be different.”
Merlin pulled back and raised an eyebrow at his lover. “Arthur, different is the very definition of change,” he pointed out.
Arthur swatted at him playfully and both ignored the silent “idiot” that was exchanged between them. “You know what I mean,” Arthur insisted. “We’re moving, not dying. Our friends will still be only a call away, and you can still sleep on your futon in your new study if you really feel the need or if I really piss you off.”
“I know,” Merlin told him, and he did, he really did. “It’s just...” He trailed off, not knowing how to put his feelings into words.
It did not seem to matter though as Arthur wrapped his arms around him again and offered a muffled, “Yeah, I know.”
He hobbled back to Arthur’s place and let himself be tucked in to the big comfy bed that he really did love. He also let Arthur wrap himself around him, something he loved even more. He fell asleep awash in a feeling of comfort and contentment and wondered why he had been foolish enough to think such things depended on location when he already knew the only thing that mattered was the person he was with.
The next morning he awoke to the smell of bacon and coffee, and to the vision of grey skies that he really hoped were not a portent of things to come. The day planned was far less enjoyable than the day before, but it needed to be done and they only had a day left to do it, so he took a deep breath and resolved himself to face the worst.
He ate, he washed, and he let Arthur drive him to their new home with a sense of trepidation and a boot full of cleaning supplies. The small house was the perfect size for them and nearly the perfect location to their respective places of employment, but it had sat vacant for quite some time before they signed the papers to make it theirs, which meant a fair amount of dust and grime were sure to be had.
The previous owners had left a fair amount of some of the most hideous furniture Merlin had ever seen behind, likely wishing to forget such follies, but that meant Arthur and Merlin had to decide what to do with it. In anticipation of this very event, Merlin had made a list of what he remembered, split into three columns: keep, offer to friends, and burn and hope the wind took the ashes. Of course, he had originally planned to help Arthur with the arrangement of the pieces, but that was out the door at the moment. Perce had advised to just label the pieces and he would come early on move day to make sure things were out of the way, but Merlin felt guilty about using his friends in such a manner, even if said friends could probably bench press him without breaking a sweat.
So it was both a surprise and a non-surprise when Arthur pulled up to the kerb behind a car that looked all too familiar, and Gwen, Lance, and Perce all stood at the ready.
The big guy simply shrugged and offered, “I thought I could get a head start and make things easier for tomorrow.”
Gwen gave him a peck on the cheek and told him, “I thought you could use a little help.”
Lance, for his part, shouldered a bag that seemed to be full of tools and supplies and said, “Well, you know me, I go where she goes.”
Merlin smiled at the truthfulness and purity of the statement, as well as the utter loyalty and helpfulness of his dear friends. He smiled even more when not a single one of them said a word about him nearly falling on his face whilst attempting to negotiate the short set of steps that led to the front door.
He did not dare try the stairway to the upper level just yet, but he did do a walk/hobble through of the lower level with Arthur to suss out just what needed to be done and where. The few remaining furniture pieces were to be moved, the dust covers removed from about the place, and the whole thing scrubbed and vacuumed.
The others set him up in his study to start with, or at least what would become his study once the wall panels were reinstalled. For now, he had a clear view of the living room, main stairs, and even a glimpse into the kitchen through the supports, and one of the ugliest chaise lounges he had ever seen tucked to the side should he need a rest. He knew he was primarily out of the way more than actually helping, but he also knew he was at least being included, so there was that. Gwen kept checking in on him and asking his opinion on things, and then relaying his instructions to the others to do the heavy lifting.
Gwen called her brother Elyan in about halfway through the day as he was some sort of wiz at plumbing and the two faucets upstairs that they had not tried during their review of the property were less about flowing clear water and more about dripping brown clumps of sludge. He sorted those out in no time and took a look at the main water heater as well. He needed a part for one more thing that Merlin truly and utterly did not understand, but promised to return with it the next day.
From the look in Gwen’s eye, Merlin had the feeling her brother was about to be roped into helping with the heavy lifting the next day as well. He tried to warn Arthur, who not only saw nothing wrong with that, but said it was fair enough for the time he had helped Elyan move back in the days of Uni, reminding Merlin of just how long Arthur had known Elyan and Merlin had known Gwen. Given that Gwen and Lance were in the midst of a search for an upgrade to their own tiny flat, Merlin figured there would be plenty of payback to go around soon enough.
They were headed back to their cars and to the reward of dinner in an actual sit down restaurant, when Merlin nearly fell again, only this time it was truly not his fault. Arthur caught him and held him closer than needed to steady him, and Perce caught the culprit before he could escape.
“Aithusa!” a boy no more than eight cried as he ran right across the street and reached for the little terrier currently held securely in Perce’s arms. He barely blinked at the size difference between him and the man that held his prize, and began to babble, “I’m so sorry! She slipped her leash and ran away and you know how puppies can be and normally she’s really good but sometimes she just escapes, you know, and you are totally not going to tell my mum, right?”
Merlin looked down, past the mop of dark hair and the ever-so-earnest eyes and torn t-shirt and jeans, and could not help but laugh. The child reminded him of himself at that age, getting into more trouble than it was usually worth, trying to talk his way out of it, and, as always, trying to hide everything from his own mother.
“And you would be?” Arthur asked from where he still held Merlin.
“Oh!” the boy exclaimed as though just now realising he had forgotten his manners. “I’m Mordred and that’s my dog Aithusa and I live across the street with my mum. She’s a professor and knows all sorts of stuff and she’s the one who named our dog after some Greek something-or-another of light and told me the story about it but I can’t really remember and is your friend a giant because he’s like really big, and can I have my dog back?”
Now it was Arthur’s turn to laugh as he admitted, “I think I got about half of that.”
Perce gently lowered little Aithusa down so Mordred could grasp on to his collar and hopefully keep him in check. “You sure you got her now?” he verified as the child fought to hold the squirming mass of puppy.
“Uh-huh,” Mordred nodded. He paused and pursed his lips as if debating something and then asked, “So, are you a giant?”
“Half-giant, on his mother’s side only,” Arthur replied with mock seriousness. He earned wide eyes from the child and a smack on the arm hard enough to rock both him and Merlin for his efforts.
“Wow,” Mordred breathed. “That is so cool.”
The front door opened across the way and a less than amused mother peeked her head out to call her son home. “He’s not giving you any trouble, is he?” she asked doubtingly.
“Not at all,” Merlin assured her. “He was just showing us his dog, that’s all.” Quieter now, he told Mordred, “You better get home before she suspects anything.”
“Okay,” the boy nodded, readjusting his hold on the dog. “Thank you for catching her! And thank you for letting me meet a real life giant!”
“Half-giant,” Merlin corrected, continuing the game for now, especially considering there was no way Perce would do anything against him in his current condition.
“Still cool,” the boy called as he ran back across the street.
“You owe me dinner for that,” Perce said. He was smiling though, which meant it amused him as much as it amused everyone else.
“They were already buying us dinner,” Lance pointed out, wrapping an arm around Gwen when she leaned against him.
“Fine, they owe me a drink,” Perce amended.
Merlin tilted his head back against Arthur’s shoulder and stage-whispered, “Still worth it.”
“Oh, yeah,” Arthur agreed, earning him yet another swat.
Dinner was had and drinks were had and they possibly stayed up just a bit too late given what they knew to be a busy day ahead of them come morning. Eventually, they said their goodbyes and Arthur escorted Merlin back to his place, plied him with water and painkillers, and tucked the soft coverlet around him.
“We really doing this?” Merlin asked around a yawn.
Arthur smiled down at him fondly. “Well, it’s a little late to have second thoughts, what with the whole signing the contract, putting down more pounds than either one of us has ever spent in our lives, and allowing our leases to expire on the flats,” he mused.
Merlin thought that over for a moment, and nodded, even if it did come across more like burrowing deeper into the pillow. “Well then, I guess that’s decided,” he considered.
Arthur simply laughed and climbed in next to him, held him close, and made him forget that this was technically their last night not being together as it had been so long since they were really separate at all.
He awoke the next morning not to the scent of breakfast, but to the incessant beeping of Arthur’s alarm. He may have possibly dragged his feet getting ready, or at least foot as one was still quite out of commission, but he hoped to pass that off as due to lack of caffeine versus reluctance to leave Arthur’s place behind.
He was still pulling on a t-shirt over his thermal given the chill in the air that heralded the coming Autumn when people started to arrive. He barely even got the chance to muse about how his last night “on his own” was technically days ago before coffee and pastries were being shoved under his nose and no fewer than three voices told him to get a move on already as time was wasting.
Things became a blur of movement after that. He was relegated to the director job as he tried to control the flow of objects out of the flat and into the waiting vehicles. He ventured down early into the process to try to arrange everything to fit as much as possible in as few trips as possible, but Morgana had taken control of that aspect and sent him back to the flat to handle things from there. Eventually, the two of them sent each other messages on their mobiles requesting this or that or one more package of no more than one foot wide or another blanket to wrap around something and pad the empty spaces. Soon enough “empty” was the key word as white walls and beige carpeting were near all that remained of Merlin’s place, and Arthur’s was not faring much better.
By the time Merlin finally made it over to their new house, several of the others had already been there for quite some time. The floors were nearly shining after being scrubbed even cleaner than the night before, which was ridiculous as people were just going to track mud and dirt in over the course of the day. Elyan’s tool set sat off to the side, broken and rusted pipes beside it, which Merlin took to mean he had already finished the repairs and was being roped into doing more. Gwen had a tool set of her own out, right next to a neat stack of the little panels Merlin had not thought they would get to for days at least, if not weeks.
Most importantly though, the house was beginning to look far less like a set of barren rooms and far more like a home. Arthur’s table was set in the kitchen, ridiculous trencher already atop it, covered with layout notes of just what was to go where and what was left to do. Someone had unwrapped and propped up the series of framed photos along the lounge wall, a timeline not only of Arthur and Merlin’s life together, but that of their friends as well. They had even placed Merlin’s little wooden stand for his mobile and keys next to the front door, even though it was sure to prove to be in the way as most of the big furniture and boxes had yet to be unloaded.
Of course, it was not to stay that way for long. Elena and Gwaine began to unload the boxes and Perce and Leon took the furniture. Gwen went to grab a box but was assured by her brother that everything was under control, so she returned to her project with the walls, recruiting Lance as her second set of hands. Merlin tried to direct as much as he could, nearly taking out a lamp when he made the mistake of pointing with one of his crutches instead of his hands. Morgana insisted she was doing just fine and he could simply stay where he was, but he was both a bit put out about not having a say and forced to wonder how much she was concentrating on the task at hand and how much she was concentrating on flirting with Leon.
Arthur either took pity on him or was feeling as giddy as he was about their home shaping up into something real and tangible, and he tucked Merlin’s crutches out of the way and hauled him up on his back to lead him through the chaos and hopefully guide said chaos back into some coherent direction. Merlin laughed as they dodged around Elyan and Elena, checked in on Gwen and Lance, and tried their damnedest to avoid the cushions Gwaine was “helping” Perce with by batting him about the head with them.
Their goal was to make it to the stairway that led to the upper level to see what still needed to be done there, but this goal was hampered when someone new decided to join in the fun, a shrill cry of, “Aithusa!” their only warning before a mass of fur darted between Arthur’s legs and nearly caused them both to go crashing to the floor had it not been for the combined reflexes of Perce and Gwaine.
Sure enough, Mordred from across the way appeared in the doorway, too young to bother with the niceties of permission before he scampered right in after his dog. The others alternatively laughed and tried to get out of his way with some attempts more successful than others and some ending in a face full of slobber and a rather apologetic eight year old.
Merlin took in the scene, still draped over Arthur’s back and held securely in his better half’s arms. He leaned forward and let his lips brush against Arthur’s ear as he whispered, “Home sweet home?”
Arthur laughed, loud and bold and amended, “Maybe not yet, but we’re getting there.”
Later that night, surrounded by the detritus of boxes and wrappings and take out containers, Merlin curled up on the sofa next to Arthur and gazed out about the place, their place together. He saw pieces from his flat and from his life mingled with pieces of Arthur’s all mingled with pieces that he honestly could not remember who got when or who got who. Mixed in were Morgana’s scarf and Gwen’s hair clip and bottles of Gwaine and Elena’s favourite beer and one of Elyan’s wrenches and one of Lance’s hammers and the biscuits that both Leon and Perce preferred. They were all coming back the next day, and perhaps even the day after that, to finish setting everything up and finish everything they did not get to what with goofing around as much as making any real progress.
Merlin poked at the afghan his mother had made him around the time he passed his A Levels and looked over at the overstuffed chair Arthur always like to sit in when he watched footie. He was fairly certain it was not just the painkillers playing a role when he nudged Arthur in the side and whispered, “I think we made it.”
Arthur pulled him closer until he was nestled against him an agreed, “I think you’re right.”
End.
Feedback is always welcomed.