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Arthur stared at the object in his hand. Small, metallic, and hot pink. ‘An iPod Nano’, he recalls. Merlin called it a relic for this day and age, but he still hunted for a working one on eBay. It was a new project of sorts— for Arthur to experience the rise of technology the way everyone did, the way Merlin did, in the 2000s. His old Walkman had just broken (no, he didn’t sit on it on purpose), and Merlin decided it was time to move on to the next invention. The next hot pink invention. Arthur had initially thrown a tantrum, a mature, adult-like tantrum, over how pink is for girls. He was quickly silenced by Merlin’s rant about misogyny and feminism and how his behavior wouldn’t be upheld. It wasn’t Arthur’s fault, okay! He wasn’t trying to be rude. He just wasn’t caught up with all the social changes that occurred in the past thousand years or so since he died. And then revived. Merlin’s rant also included how other people would literally die for the early 2000s aesthetic with the neon and the wired headphones and how Arthur needs to be less of a prat and more grateful instead. Whatever, he digresses. Back to the Nano.
Merlin had already bought and downloaded a plethora of songs for Arthur to explore that already had the official Merlin stamp of approval. Arthur had his musical privileges taken away from him when he stumbled upon country music. He didn’t really like it himself, but what he did like was annoying Merlin. Arthur bought loads of country CDs when he was introduced to the CD player and would parade the machine around the house, cranking the volume as loud as technologically possible. The warlock’s face would flush a deep red, brows would furrow, and eyes would roll. Something along the lines of how he didn’t want to hear about pickup trucks, tits, and Amurrica. Arthur thought he looked positively adorable, not that he would ever admit it. But he wasn’t surprised when he woke up one day to his CD player being absolutely demolished. Merlin said his magic was somehow misdirected and fired at the innocent device instead. Arthur wasn’t born yesterday, but he let the excuse slide. He was known to be benevolent after all.
Scrolling through the titles, Arthur found one that caught his eye. "You're Still the One" by Shania Twain. He blushed slightly at the prospect of Merlin saying that to him and clicked play, not delving too deep into his feelings. After all, it didn’t make sense as to why his pulse quickened and his face flushed at the thought of the other, so why bother? Maybe he was just nervous about Merlin’s magic and still slightly upset that he had been lied to for a decade. Yeah, that must be it. Letting the notes wash over him, Arthur continued his chores. You heard that right. Arthur. Doing. Chores. He still couldn’t believe how the tables had turned sometimes. Him waiting on Merlin to return from his job. Cleaning their house. Doing their laundry. Things that his manservant used to do for him. He was also scolded about how manservants weren’t really a thing anymore and how they were both equals now. Arthur had to start pulling his weight and stop being a lazy clotpole, as it was kindly put to him. Shaking his head to rid his Merlin-filled thoughts, Arthur turned his attention back to the music. The melody was picking up as the pre-chorus began.
“They said, "I bet they'll never make it"
But just look at us holdin' on
We're still together, still goin' strong.”
Arthur chuckled, trying to picture explaining to people from his past life that he was still alive. Brought back to life hundreds of years later when destiny called again. Now, they weren’t sure what the destiny was this time, but still, the point being Arthur was still alive. He couldn’t imagine what Mordred’s face might look like or Uther’s when he saw him and Merlin still together, still side-by-side. You know, in a professional sense.
“You're still the one I run to
The one that I belong to.”
The former king thought back to when he first woke up. He didn’t know where he was or when he was. The only thing he knew for certain was Merlin. Merlin. Merlin. Merlin. An invisible string tugged him in the direction of Merlin’s residence, which he soon found out was a small farm. He couldn’t quite explain the sensation. He just knew to put one foot ahead of the other, follow this gravitational pull, and that everything would be alright. Merlin hadn’t been home when Arthur arrived. He plopped down on the concrete steps and patiently waited. If Merlin had waited centuries for Arthur, surely a few hours would be nothing. (Arthur was highly impatient, but what else was he to do?) The string grew taut as Merlin slowly approached in this monstrous and hideous four-wheeled machine. A car, as he was later told. Merlin stepped out of the vehicle and froze. Arthur could hardly make out his features except for the soft pink of his lips, curved in an O-shape, and his choppy, black hair, grown out to unfortunately cover the tips of his ears. Arthur felt his palms sweat and awkwardly cleared his throat. The noise broke Merlin out of his temporary stupor and he proceeded to pinch himself a few times. After it was proved to him that the blond wasn’t just a beautiful figment of his imagination, Merlin barrelled towards him, knocking them both down with the speed and strength of his embrace. His hair tickled Arthur’s face as the latter nuzzled his face deeper into the crook of his neck. Both sported a grin so wide and bright, the sun could easily be put to shame.
“You're still the one that I love
The only one I dream of
You're still the one I kiss goodnight.”
Whoa, strong words and feelings here. Kiss? Love? Arthur did not love Merlin. Sure, the other man was kinda sorta good-looking from certain angles, like if you squint. Ugh, okay, fine. Merlin was good-looking. Sue him. His messy bed-head, his cheekbones, and his eyes. But, that was all objective. Anyone with eyes had to know Merlin was attractive. But then, there were the things about Merlin you couldn’t know just by looking at him. His loyalty. His humor. His bravery. His patience. His strength. His humbleness. His resilience. His wit. His thoughtfulness. His— oh.
Oh.
My gods, Arthur could keep going. Listing out all of Merlin’s positive traits would be longer than a CVS receipt. He could sort all the characteristics in alphabetical order and come up with his own dictionary definitions. ‘The example sentences would be much better’, Arthur thought, ‘because they’d be realistic and they’d be Merlin’. Ha, take that Merriam-Webster.
Okay, but back to the spiral at hand. There was literally no way he loved his ex-servant. Arthur didn’t even know he was into guys. I mean, he did think Lancelot was rather attractive. And Gwaine. And Elyan. And oh, when Percival lifted all those kids. Hm. So, he’s supposedly low-level into guys. Love is not a low-level feeling, though. But, if Arthur were in love with someone, surely he would know, right? He couldn’t be that out of touch with his own feelings, that oblivious. Right?
Except he could. He totally 100% could. Deep, deep down, he knew that Merlin meant something more to him. He was always more than a servant. More than a friend. Arthur supposes he should be relieved that he could finally name this mysterious, age-old feeling.
He loved Merlin. He LOVES Merlin. He shakily sat down, clutching the arms of a chair and lowering himself like a senior citizen. He probably always loved Merlin. Well, maybe not always. Maybe not the first time they met when he was called a prat. But, shortly after that, yes, somewhere along the way, he had fallen in love with Merlin. How could he not?
Arthur really was a dollophead. (He grudgingly adds a tally to the ‘Merlin being right’ column.) He had been so busy with you know, being King Arthur and whatnot, that he never really assessed his feelings. He avoided them until right now, even. Except now, Arthur had all the time in the world. All this time to live out a new life, fulfill mundane dreams he never could as king, yet still, Arthur wanted—no, needed—Merlin by his side, forever. Perhaps, Merlin was Arthur’s new destiny. His Once and Future. Goodness gracious, how corny could he get? Arthur slumped further into the seat with his face pressed into his forearm, feeling how warm his face had gotten. He was downright flush.
But Arthur is a knight. Was a knight. Semantics. What is his plan of attack? Does he just—
“Princess, I’m home!” Merlin exclaimed, bursting through the door. Arthur rips out his wired earbuds and hastily crams the music player in his pocket, as if covering up a heinous crime. ‘Be quiet, Shania’, he silently pleads. Merlin pushes past his chair and begins to unload the weekly groceries.
“Sorry, I’m home late. There was extra traffic after work and the checkout line wrapped around half the store…” he babbles.
Arthur languidly stares, entranced. How could he not notice it before? His heart squeezes at the domesticity in front of him. Would it be selfish to ask to have this forever? Merlin and Arthur. Side by side. Two sides of the same coin.
“Anyway, I got you the jalapeño cheddar chicken sausages because I saw you eyeing them. Bought two packs, so you can have extra in the morning. But don’t get carried away, I can’t poke yet another hole in your belt,” he chides, a soft smile behind his words. Arthur knows this is when he’s supposed to fall for the ragebait and yell back at Merlin that he wasn’t fat, thank you! Instead, what comes to his mind is…
“I love you.”
Oops. Merlin tenses, half his body still reaching into the refrigerator. He crawls out slowly, craning his neck to look at Arthur. His eyes are blown wide, ice blue saucers made of glass.
“What?” his voice warbles.
“I love you,” Arthur whispers back this time. It comes out croaky, but nonetheless true. He stares at Merlin. Merlin stares back. Time stretches, and no one speaks.
“I was just listening to music and I don’t know, it got me thinking. That I love you. And how I just now realized it, which is dumb, since I’ve probably been in love with you forever. And I’m sure most of Camelot knew that and maybe thinking does hurt my brain,” Arthur nervously chuckles, “but love can also be platonic…I can…I can make my love platonic…”
“Shut up.”
“I am your king; you cannot tell me to shut up.” Arthur recites habitually, his brain too paralyzed to think.
“Shut. Up.”
Merlin gingerly walks over to where Arthur is seated. A nervous hand cards through his golden blond hair and slides down to cup his face. So delicately, so tenderly. Arthur glances down at his lips. A tongue swipes out, moistening them. Pink. Wet. Shiny. Merlin’s eyes bore into his and then fluttered shut. Holy shit, he’s kissing Arthur. Arthur is being kissed. The cogs in his brain turn slowly as the pieces slot together. Holy shit, he needs to kiss back. Merlin lets out a small, satisfied hum when Arthur finally does so. Time stretches for a second time, but now, Arthur wishes he could freeze time forever. He vaguely remembers Merlin mentioning he could do that and files that thought away for later questioning. They pull away leisurely, chests slightly heaving, and foreheads leaning against each other for support. A cheeky grin makes its way to Arthur’s face.
“I’m not sure I remember how to shut up. Can you show me again?”
Merlin smirks and kisses him again.