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Merlin knew it was becoming a problem. It was affecting his work, and it was plaguing his mind. He couldn’t help it, it just…
He did his best to do what he could.
He pretended not to notice the way his eyes always found him. Pretended not to notice the way he let his hands linger as he dressed the prince. He pretended his heart didn't leap at the sound of his voice, and his dreams weren't filled with him.
He pretended not to love him, because there was no way he could. There was no way they could...
"Merlin!"
The sorcerer was pulled from his thoughts, both figuratively and literally as he felt himself abruptly yanked backwards by arms strengthened from years of training, and into a hard chest.
"Are you trying to burn yourself?"
Merlin slowly blinked, before looking back to Arthur, who held him close against his body. He felt heat rise to his cheeks at how close their faces were, and looked ahead of himself again—back to the fire. He only said he pretended, not that he was good at it.
“I…” He trailed off, unable to think of an excuse for his carelessness. Instead, all he could say was, “am I?”
Arthur scoffed in his ear, tightening his grip on him. He had one arm securely around his waist, and the other holding his right wrist surprisingly gently. Merlin wasn’t even sure if Arthur knew how he was holding him. “You were practically stepping into the fire, Merlin.”
“Oh...” Merlin blinked again. He hadn’t even realized. He’d been so caught in his thoughts and he… He—
He couldn’t think with Arthur holding him like this!
“Alright, out with it,” Arthur huffed, finally letting him go and stepping back. “What’s wrong with you?”
Merlin turned around to face Arthur, now that he actually could without short-circuiting at their close proximity.
It was question Merlin found difficult to answer. What was wrong with him? He was in love with the son of the man who would have him dead. Surely that was something wrong with him. This son also happened to be a prince while he was merely a servant, as he was so frequently reminded. That was another thing. Really, Merlin could keep going on and on. There were plenty things wrong with him.
Though, it wasn’t as if he could actually say that.
It was for the best he didn’t tell Arthur.
For both of them.
Nothing could come of it while Uther was in rule, Arthur wouldn’t risk it. He may disobey his father from time to time but to go so far as to be in a relationship behind his back, without being under the influence of a love spell? Merlin couldn’t ask that of him.
It wasn’t realistic of him.
He needed to be happy with what he had.
But he wasn’t…
Did that make him selfish? Greedy? Was he… wrong, for wanting more? Was he wrong for needing more? Perhaps he was, when he let fear overwhelm him so much that he couldn’t even think of confessing his love outside of his dreams.
It was pathetic. He was pathetic…
“Merlin. Are you deaf? I asked you a question.” Arthur crossed his arms over his chest as he stared at Merlin. Though, despite his harsh look, Merlin was sure he heard a tinge of concern in his voice. “What is wrong with you? I can’t have my servant throwing himself into fires, so… Spill it.”
Merlin sighed softly, and shook his head, before putting on a small smile. “It’s nothing, sire. It almost sounded like you were worried, careful. Wouldn’t want me to start thinking you care about me,” he teased, hoping it wasn’t obvious how forced the banter was.
Arthur stared at him for a moment, unspeaking. So, he took that as a sign he could continue his duties, and started walking past Arthur to head to his bed, so he could ready it for him for the evening. He was stopped by a hand on his wrist as he passed Arthur, a startled noise slipping through his lips as he was tugged back to directly in front of him.
Merlin’s snappy comment died on his tongue when he saw the serious look on the prince’s face. Arthur’s eyes searched Merlin’s face, and he opened his mouth before closing it again and averting his eyes.
“I do—care. You know, Merlin. I do care,” Arthur muttered, clearing his throat as he looked anywhere but at Merlin. The sorcerer stared wide eyed at him for a moment, unsure how to respond. His heart was pounding in his chest.
Arthur’s hand slowly slid down from his wrist to his hand, where he laced their fingers for a moment before dropping his hand to his side. He ran his other hand through his hair, messing it up. Merlin felt frozen in place. His eyes were wide, his lips parted a fraction—he must’ve looked like a startled deer. He didn’t understand.
Did Arthur…?
Was Arthur trying to…?
“I love you.”
Silence fell upon the room at the utterance of those three terrifyingly beautiful words.
It took a moment for Merlin to realize that he had been the one to say it. Arthur was staring at him with eyes the size of the moon, hand froze in his hair where it had still been tugging its way through the knots. Slowly, Arthur lowered his hand back to his side.
The only sound that filled the room beyond the suffocating silence was the gentle crackle and pop of the fire. Merlin felt a panic rise in his throat in the form of words, as he rose his hands up to his chest in a surrendering motion.
Before the words could pierce the quiet, though, he found his lips otherwise pre-occupied, as suddenly there was another pair pressed against his own. Merlin let out a startled sound, as Arthur grabbed and held him to his chest, their lips pressed hard together in a bruising kiss.
It was nothing like he ever thought their first kiss would be.
He realized he was taking too long to respond when Arthur started to pull away. Instead of letting him, and demanding an explanation in the form of a confession, he wrapped his arms around Arthur’s neck, burying his hands into his hair as he tugged him closer, moving his lips back against Arthur’s as his eyes fell shut.
Arthur let out a small hum into the kiss, and Merlin found himself smiling against his lips.
When they finally did part, it was gasping. Even then, though, they stayed holding one another close, their foreheads pressed together as they took slow and deep breaths. Merlin’s hands gripped Arthur’s hair gently, similar to how Arthur’s hands clutched tightly at Merlin’s tunic.
“If you couldn’t guess,” Arthur finally began once they’d both caught their breath, “I seem to love you, as well.”
Merlin bit back a blinding grin. He wanted to be sappy, tell Arthur he was his world and more. Tell him how he loved him so… Yet, instead what came out was a soft, teasing, “seem to?”
Arthur huffed out a small laugh and rolled his eyes. “Yes, well, fine. I do love you, as well.”
Merlin allowed himself to be happy for a moment. His heart soared with joy at the reciprocation of his love. He was thrilled, so he let himself be for a moment.
Then, he brought himself back to reality. Merlin let out a sigh and looked away, slowly dropping his hands to rest lightly on Arthur’s shoulders.
“Your father… If he were to find out,” he began.
“He won’t find out,” Arthur assured him, almost immediately. As if he’d thought about it before.
Merlin glanced at him a moment. “I couldn’t ask you to lie to protect me more than you already do because of my magic…”
There was a moment of silence, a pause, as Arthur let out a long sigh and pulled away from Merlin’s embrace. Merlin tried not to let his disappointment show too much, as Arthur just stood and stared at him.
Then, the prince grabbed his hand and dragged him to the large (and soft) bed, before pushing him down onto it and sitting down beside him. “Look at me.”
Merlin folded his hands in his lap as he sat cross-legged on the bed where he was shoved onto it. He looked to Arthur, meeting his gaze.
Arthur slowly leaned forward, before grabbing his face between his hands. “You would never have to ask,” he told him firmly, “do you understand that? I know you can be a bit dense, so I’ll say it again. You don’t have to ask. I won’t tell my father, and no one else will know—and if they do, then they’ll be only the people we know are on our side.”
“Oh…” Merlin breathed, as Arthur ran his thumbs over his cheeks gently. He dropped his hands from Merlin’s face, to instead take his hands. “So… You’d want to—we’d have to be a secret, Arthur.”
“You’re not that bad at keeping secrets,” Arthur shrugged.
“I am excellent at keeping secrets,” Merlin huffed softly, looking down to their hands. “I kept my magic from you, didn’t I?”
“For a year.”
“A year longer than I kept it from Lancelot.”
“I still can’t believe you let him catch you in the act.”
“Shut up,” Merlin huffed. A moment of silence passed between the two, before Merlin sighed softly. He’d been so terrified to tell Arthur how he felt… So scared, and for what? Uther wasn’t going to find out, Arthur wasn’t going to tell him and Merlin sure as hell wasn’t going to. Nothing had changed, either, just now they could hold hands and kiss and— “Does this mean I get to stay here with you at night?”
Arthur looked almost surprised by the question, when Merlin finally looked away from their hands to meet his eyes again. Arthur glanced back to his pillows, then back to Merlin. “…Do you want to?”
“Do I want to?” Merlin repeated, raising an eyebrow, “Arthur, your bed is heavenly compared to mine.”
Arthur opened his mouth to reply, then paused a moment.
“How do you know what my bed is like?” He asked. Merlin’s mouth snapped shut. Oh. Oh, he wasn’t supposed to say that. “Have you been sleeping in my bed?”
“It’s comfortable and I get tired after your unreasonably long lists of chores,” Merlin defended, heat rising to his cheeks.
“I don’t give you those lists any more, I haven’t since I discovered your magic,” Arthur retorted, eyebrow raised. Merlin looked away.
“Can I stay with you or not?” He returned the subject to his initial question.
Arthur chuckled softly, a sound like music to Merlin’s ears. His shoulders relaxed a bit, and a smile tugged at his lips as he looked back to the prince.
“I’d rather like it if you did.”