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The midday sun brings with it all the things he wishes hadn’t survived the night.
They are sat across the little table Merlin keeps in the kitchen for when he is dining alone. Arthur has not said a word since he emerged from the guest room, with his sleep-ruffled hair and bloodshot eyes. Merlin had tried for a good morning and left it at that when all he got was a grunt in reply.
Brunch is spent in silence for another five minutes before Merlin decides he can’t stand the way these questions are burning in his throat anymore.
“So you remember, then?”
They’d stumbled home early in the morning after the celebrations. The newly elected Prime Minister had seemed determined to begin his term hungover enough to leave his liver little hope of recovery and Merlin’s was closer.
With a completely shitfaced Arthur hanging off one half of him, he had somehow made them both past the front door. Only to be toppled to the ground with the great blonde prat snuggling up against him like he was his own personal pillow.
“Arthur,” Merlin had protested.
“Shhh, just hold me,” He had slurred. “‘S nothing you haven’t done before.”
Then promptly passed out. The panic attack that followed was quite spectacular. Merlin didn’t remember getting either of them into bed, or falling asleep. He did remember startling awake enough times that he’d finally decided to go stand at the balcony, still wrapped up his blanket, and watch unblinkingly as dawn painted the sky pink and gold.
“I’ve remembered for a while now.” Says Arthur after a long, pregnant pause.
“How long?”
“It all started coming back a few months after I met you. You?”
“Well.” Merlin chews on his food meditatively. “I suppose you could say always.”
A longer pause.
“Why are you here, Merlin?” The words are slow. Tense.
“Because destiny is an unsubtle, inescapable bitch and your dad’s on a crusade against magic. Again.” He probably should not sound so cheerful. Especially not when he’s fucking this up without a care in the damn world right now.
“I see. And now that I’m PM, you’ll be leaving?” He pokes at his breakfast, eyes fixed on the plate.
“Do you want me to leave?”
“Damnit, Merlin, that’s not what I asked! I don’t want you to stay if it’s out of-- of-- a sense of obligation, okay? I--”
“Unless you send me away, Arthur, I don’t have a choice but to stay.”
“Like hell you don’t!”
Merlin slams a hand against the table. Takes a deep breath.
“Do you think I haven’t tried to avoid this?” He says quietly. “Because I have, Arthur. I’ve tried to play my role in this as far away from you as possible. I could not abandon my people again. Not for you.” His voice rises as he keeps speaking. “But your PAs have never lasted more than a month -- odd, isn’t that? And every time you put that ad back up -- every single time -- it would start popping up around me. Front page of the paper, notifications on my phone, people talking about it no matter where I went--”
He cut himself off with a broken laugh. “Like I said: destiny’s an unsubtle, inescapable bitch.”
“Really? Where were you before the past three years, then?”
Merlin stares, momentarily stunned into silence.
“Well?”
“I… I may have been… gettinghighwithgnomes.” He mumbles the last part very quickly.
“What? ”
“I said,” He huffs, “I may have been… getting high with gnomes.”
At the incredulous look Arthur gives him, he hurries to add, “I needed some time alone, alright? Everybody thinks they’re extinct but they’ve just gone deep underground. And they grow the best fucking shrooms. So. Might’ve spent a few decades more there than planned.”
Arthur scoffs. Shakes his head. “Only you, Merlin.”
And it is so terribly familiar, so them, so Arthur-and-Merlin -- it makes something in him ache.
“Wait. Did you just say a few decades?”
“Yes? Being immortal and living through humanity’s constant drama isn’t easy, okay? The gnomes understood.”
Suddenly, there is devastation etched onto Arthur’s face; devastation of a kind he’s only ever seen a few times before. Back then and now.
“You’re… You’ve been here this whole time?”
Ah.
Merlin doesn’t answer.
“Merlin. Merlin, look at me.” Before he even realises, Arthur’s kneeling at his feet, taking his hands, squeezing them. Merlin meets his gaze reluctantly. His breath catches at the visceral blue of those eyes, raging with something fierce and protective. “Tell me you haven’t. Tell me you…”
He trails off, pleading; Merlin shatters.
He slides to the floor, sobbing into Arthur’s shoulder. Arthur winds his arms around him in a grip tight enough to be bruising, and it hurts, almost, in a way that pulls him down to the cold hard ground beneath him and reassures him he’s real, this is real.
“I’m sorry, Arthur,” he chokes. “I know I’m meant to serve the Once and Future King but… I can’t do this again, I can’t. It isn’t fair: why should I have to lose you a second time?” He leans into him desperately, even as he retreats to a place he’s had 1,500 years to build.
“I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m here now.” Arthur murmurs into his hair, rocking them back and forth. Not allowing him to escape.
“Stop that!” His hands twist at his shirt. “Stop making this harder, I-- I can’t think straight with you!”
“Then don’t.” Arthur pulls back, cupping Merlin’s face in his hands. “By all the gods, Merlin -- and I know they’re damning me for being the selfish man I am -- don’t. If that is what it takes to keep you by my side,” He kisses his forehead. “I will not send you away.” Both his cheeks. “We’ll figure this out.” His chin. “I don’t care what it takes, I won’t leave you to suffer alone again.” The tip of his nose. “Because I can’t lose you either.”
“But… What about-- What about Gwen?” Merlin stutters, eyes wide. She’s his Deputy Prime Minister in this life. A fitting place for his former Queen.
“I believe she’s perfectly happy with Morgana and Lancelot.” He’s smiling playfully now. Merlin can’t look away from his lips.
“Huh?”
Arthur sighs, maybe a bit fondly. “Can I kiss you already? Or would you like to discuss the love lives of everyone else from Camelot first--”
Merlin interrupts him in the most glorious manner possible. He finds himself being pressed against the floor, Arthur on top of him with his knees on either side of his hips, their mouths sliding hotly together.
“Arthur,” Merlin mumbles in between kisses, grasping at his shoulders. “How is this ever going to work?”
“Stop thinking, Merlin,” Arthur slips a hand under his shirt. “If only for now.”