Work Text:
Merlin didn’t really know what to do. If the last few days of ghosts and spirits weren’t weird, Arthur confessing his sins and weeping certainly was. Merlin knew he was happy, because he had lost all hope of achieving his destiny of bringing magic back to the kingdom when Arthur had declared all magic evil after his father’s demise. He knew that respecting the Druid people was the first step to bring magic back, and he considered whether now would be a good time to tell Arthur about his own supernatural abilities.
Now being in a chokehold after mockingly offering Arthur a hug. Merlin barely managed not squealing, something he’d stopped doing sometime around the third year in Camelot even though that would get rid of Arthur easier (every time Merlin squealed, Arthur collapsed into a heap of giggles, giving him a chance to escape) but he decided his dignity couldn’t handle it. Instead, Merlin tried to elbow Arthur in the ribs, which led to elbows ending up in rather private places, which led to Arthur screaming and pinning Merlin down and twisting his wrists, which led to squeals and high-pitched giggling.
Catching their breaths after the impromptu wrestling session, they settled down on the floor with their backs to the almirah, Merlin abandoning all pretense of cleaning. He never really could work when Arthur was around, because he decided that it was Arthur’s responsibility as a friend to listen to everything Merlin had to say and Merlin always got carried away. There was one time Arthur was bedridden due to a sprain in his ankle (Merlin had to trip him so that he won’t get eaten by the magical creature of the week, a pixie who had turned into a hut-sized boar) and Merlin didn’t get a single thing done that day. But Arthur got carried away talking too, and no one got yelled at.
“What was that for?”, Arthur forced out in between heaving breaths.
“What are you talking about, sire?” Merlin replied with all the innocence he could muster. He, of course, knew what Arthur was talking about, but he would be damned if he took away a chance for Arthur to embarrass himself.
Arthur apparently didn’t see Merlin’s ulterior motives, and gestured towards his body, nowhere near his crotch, and flushed uncontrollably “You know, that.”
“What, sire?” Merlin hid his grin.
Arthur blushed even harder and muttered under his breath something about idiots and parts.
Merlin took pity on him and said “I was trying to elbow you in your ribs, Arthur.”
Arthur lost all his shyness and then proceeded to lecture Merlin on not doing things he didn’t understand, like elbowing people in their ribs, all of it interrupted by eye rolls as reactions to Merlin’s widening grin, which should’ve told Arthur that Merlin wasn’t going to listen to Arthur anyway, but Arthur was a stubborn man when he wanted to be.
After listening to Arthur for the better part of a quarter of an hour, Merlin decided to talk about hugs, since he was happy enough to happily poke the bear, “You’ve never hugged anyone, have you? Gwen doesn’t count.”
Merlin had a good idea about the answer to that question. Arthur, in all his manliness, expressed affection in punches, threats, insults, shoves, chokeholds and an occasional appreciation. Unless it was Gwen, since he couldn’t do any except the last one to her. Arthur was the kind of person who knew what he felt, but never show his feelings for the sake of his dignity, making him seem emotionally constipated. Merlin thought that Arthur was almost as emotional as him (crying over unicorns and all), but had simply never learnt to show it. So, yes, Merlin had a pretty good idea.
“Of course I haven’t, Merlin” Arthur retorted, blush creeping up his face again, which was twisted in a guilty grimace “I don’t do hugs”
“Aww, Arthur, you’re lying. Look at your face!” Merlin pointed out with a chuckle, feeling irrationally jealous, since he was Arthur’s best friend and he hadn’t hugged him even once, even after all that they had been through. “You hugged someone! Whoever it was, I’m pretty sure you just did that because you wanted to stab them.”
Arthur looked at him with that puzzled expression, the one which he wore when Merlin did something Arthur couldn’t understand, which was far too often. Merlin wondered whether that was because Arthur could see his jealousy shining through. If he did, Merlin decided he had every right to be jealous, and Arthur should know that he was exactly the kind of person who would be jealous if their best friend had never hugged him in more than half a decade of knowing one another.
His thoughts must have shown across his face, since Arthur tilted his head menacingly (and a bit nervously) and said with a smirk - “But, unfortunately, you’re still alive.”
“I’m hurt that you think that’s unfortunate,” Merlin said, clutching his hand to his chest in mock hurt, “But whenever did you hug me?”
Arthur opened his mouth to retort, but closed it again as he comprehended the question, and stared at him dumbfounded until he realized he looked like the toad Merlin said he was and schooled his features to a more regal expression of confusion. “Don’t tell me you don’t remember, Merlin. I should've known you had awful memory, too, along with everything else,” Arthur tried to retort, but instead it sounded a lot like an epiphany, and not one about Merlin’s idiocy.
Merlin realized that Arthur was serious, and it was now his turn to gape at the other like a fish. Unlike Arthur, he had no qualms with his very un-regal expression and stayed gaping like a fish until Arthur took pity on him and hit him on the head trying to make him remember in his usual, ineffective way.
“You really don’t remember, do you, Merlin?” Arthur said with his tone honest, hurt but also sincere, a tone which Merlin didn’t expect to hear so soon after the shrine. “That time when your useless self got hit by a mace? And mercenaries took you, whom you escaped by an extraordinary display of wit which you still haven’t told us about?” He added with a dry voice and sour expression, as if he was remembering times he didn’t want to, which was more often than anyone wanted it to be.
All of Merlin’s thoughts, including did anyone enchant me to forget stuff and did I drink too much that one time came to a halt with an Oh. Because, obviously, everything had to be Morgana’s doing. And Arthur probably didn’t know that Merlin had been enchanted to kill him. Poor guy, he thought Merlin was actually jealous of Gwen serving him his food (or so Gwen told him). Merlin would bet his monthly salary that Arthur hadn’t even realized anything was wrong. Merlin figured it wouldn’t do any harm to tell him the truth, especially since Merlin hadn’t lied. He didn’t have to, since Arthur and Gwaine didn’t ask many questions as they didn’t want the servant to fixate on whatever trauma he had suffered, thinking that him, in his servantly life and with all his servantly issues hadn’t had to suffer anything remotely similar. Little did they know.
Apparently, thoughts about what they didn’t know showed on his face because Arthur looked disturbingly worried and horribly guilty. Merlin rushed to comfort him. “I don’t remember what happened a few days after that” Merlin said, expecting Arthur to connect the dots, and shrugged a little, waiting for Arthur to react.
Instead of being relieved, Arthur looked even more worried, with a bit of pity in is expression. Arthur, who lived, walked and even sat with conviction, looked unsure, and there was tension in his shoulders, as if he expected to banish away bad thoughts with his sword. Merlin thought he broke him, and then realized what Arthur thought the forgetfulness was a result of. “I… I didn’t know it was like that,” Arthur said, looking like he might just cry, which was something that Merlin didn’t want to see again. Because as relieving as it was to be a bit more accepted, it hurt him a lot to see his friend in pain like that. “Sorry,” Arthur added.
“No, Arthur, it’s nothing like that,” Merlin said, making a mental note that he’d never tell Arthur the full extent of what happened to him whilst saving the king and its kingdom when he revealed himself (He liked to think of it as a “when”). “I was, um…” Merlin looked down at the carpet that he’d washed a couple of weeks ago. It was dirty already. He would have to clean it again. “Um…” he had no idea how to tell Arthur this. Confident in his helplessness, he looked up at Arthur, who looked like he was going to burst, and Merlin got truly worried he had broken him “...enchanted.”
Merlin jumped out of his skin at Arthur’s indignant shriek “What!” and Arthur standing up so fast, he looked like he pulled a few muscles. He sat back down. “You were WHAT?” Arthur demanded, furiously.
Merlin tried to grin reassuringly, but Arthur’s fury was still there in full force. Merlin rethought his choice of telling Arthur about this. “It was…” Merlin said, eloquently. “Um…” he added. Arthur had the Mask of Patience on, the one he usually had while waiting for a deer to come into the perfect spot for shooting. Merlin sighed, and then winced. He really had no way out of this. “Morgana. It was Morgana. She kidnapped me. And. Well. She put a snake in my neck to enchant me to… um… kill you. Don’t worry, Gaius and Gwen took it out before it could do any real damage. But I don’t remember anything.” Merlin spoke in short, awkward bursts, keeping out all of his judicious uses of magic, and becoming an old man to actually free himself from the snake. He figured that would be too much. Arthur still hadn’t reacted.
It took whole of five minutes for Arthur to move a muscle, facial or otherwise. Merlin spent them staring at the lamp, and the table, and the ornaments, and everything in the room, trying to figure out what chores he’d have to do the next day. Of course, only if Arthur survived the night, and the chances looked slim. He might just drop dead of surprise.
“How much…” Arthur finally said, “How much do you not tell me?”
“Not many things, Arthur. Everyone just got busy and your first source of gossip,” Merlin gestured at himself, “didn’t remember anything.”
“Seriously, Merlin. If anything happens, you should tell me.”
“Arthur, you were busy in the kingdom’s affairs. There was no reason to tell you, when it was taken care of.”
Arthur looked at him uneasy, with the Face of Emotional Constipation. “Not as your king, Merlin. As your friend,” he said, still looking uneasy. He cleared his throat and looked away. “You really don’t remember, do you?” he said, and that was the only warning that Merlin had before he was wrapped in solid, arms, his face smushed in Arthur’s chest because the angle was all wrong. Merlin said the angle is all wrong, you prat but it came out as a “Mmmphh”.
Arthur had the audacity to laugh, as he let go and stood up. Merlin, imbalanced, fell down while sitting. Arthur’s nervous laughter turned boisterous, and threatened to turn into giggles any second. Merlin’s let out an indignant squawk and stood up, approaching Arthur and stopping close enough to look down on him. And pulled him into a hug.
It was Arthur’s turn to grumble, and Merlin held tighter. After a while, after the wave of emotions that threatened to consume him had subsided, after the tears had stopped flowing, when he thought his voice wouldn’t shake, he murmured “This is how you hug people, Arthur. Figures you can’t even do that correctly,” into Arthur’s ear, and let go just as Arthur yelled right in his ear and threatened to crush him.