lady_ragnell (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
lady_ragnell) wrote2011-11-28 12:11 am
lady_ragnell) wrote2011-11-28 12:11 am
Entry tags:
Stealing That Extra Bow
Title: Stealing That Extra Bow
Wordcount: ~1000
Summary: Merlin gets home late and finds a surprise.
A/N: Set in the Show Business 'verse, and may actually slay you with fluff. Because fandom has been giving me joy today and I want to give some back. Also because when I wrote my last short![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
flammablehat ended up asking me for something that's a spoiler for this fic and I live to please her.
Disclaimer: I do not own Merlin. But I do own Kilgharrah's Adventures.
Merlin hates going to conventions without Arthur. It’s never fun, exactly, being on panels and having people ask him questions about things he’s got no clue how to answer without making them write more terrifying stories about him, but at least when Arthur’s there he can pawn off all the difficult questions and then wander around together afterwards since less people recognize them than recognize Matt Smith or Benedict Cumberbatch or whoever else is there and actually gets their faces up on the screens. So when a badly-timed performance of Much Ado About Nothing keeps Arthur in London when Merlin has to be at a convention, Merlin ends up leaving right after the panel and catching a train home instead of staying the night and leaving Sunday morning like he usually would.
Arthur’s not expecting him, since he always forgets to charge his mobile and wouldn’t have it on during a performance anyway, so the flat is dark when Merlin stumbles in at half-past one, half-asleep and ready to crawl into bed. He keeps quiet as well as he can even though Arthur sleeps like a rock (and snores, even if he’ll never admit it) and gets his teeth cleaned and his pajamas out of his case and on himself before going into the bedroom.
The first thing he notices is that Arthur is sleeping on his side of the bed. Well, Arthur sprawls, Merlin suspects that if he weren’t there Arthur would just sleep like a starfish (he doesn’t share well. Sometimes Merlin thinks the reason they cuddle so much at night is because it allows Arthur to take up more of the bed), but it’s the kind of sprawl that makes it obvious that he started the night on Merlin’s side of the bed. The second thing he notices is that Arthur telling him he always sleeps without a shirt on is a lie, because he’s got an old rugby t-shirt on. The third thing he notices is that Arthur is curled up around something tucked up against his chest.
For a second, Merlin thinks Arthur got the kitten he’s been angling after ever since they moved in together, and that maybe he’s sleeping with a shirt on so it won’t scratch him. When his eyes adjust, though, he can tell it’s a bit big to be a kitten, and that it isn’t moving, and there’s something silver glinting. He tiptoes over to the bed and crouches down to look closer, peeking under the edge of the covers.
It takes a few seconds to recognize it and then he has to blink a few times to make sure he isn’t hallucinating, because Arthur is asleep, snoring and clutching a plush Kestrel to his chest. And it’s definitely Kestrel, not just any blue dragon. Merlin’s taken way too many pictures with giggling girls holding the official show product not to recognize it, and there’s the ear flaps and the silver and the half-lidded eyes that Morgana calls “bedroom eyes” when she feels like being particularly horrifying.
And, well. Arthur collects show memorabilia, mostly to bother Merlin. There are action figures and picture books and stickers and the book of the unofficial art from the art department that they gave out at the Kilgharrah’s Adventures Christmas party. And Merlin’s still got the red plush dragon Arthur gave him before they ever met, and keeps it on the top of his dresser where he pats it absently on the head every time he leaves the bedroom, but he is certain that there has never been a plush Kestrel in their flat. And it isn’t new, either, because the tail looks crumpled like Arthur’s slept with it a lot. Which means, most likely, that Arthur spends the nights they’re apart, when Merlin’s visiting his mum or doing whatever or when Arthur’s off touring yet another bit of Shakespeare or enduring a week at Uther’s country house, cuddling a stuffed version of Merlin’s character on their show.
Part of Merlin feels that he should creep back out of their bedroom and then make a lot of noise about coming in so Arthur has time to hide his Kestrel toy, since Merlin is probably not meant to see it. Most of him, however, isn’t that nice, and he’s really curious, so he shakes Arthur’s shoulder. Arthur mumbles something incoherent and scowls in his sleep as he wraps his arms tighter around the toy. Merlin has to bite his lip, and then he gives up and climbs into bed, shoving Arthur’s legs out of the way.
That gets Arthur mumbling his way to consciousness, automatically rolling to accommodate Merlin before he freezes as it apparently occurs to him that Merlin isn’t meant to be there and that there’s a plush toy trapped between their chests. His eyes snap open and Merlin grins at him. “You’re on my side of the bed,” he whispers.
“You’re home. Wasn’t I meant to come pick you up from the station tomorrow?”
“Convention was boring without you, so I started back after the panel.” He gives Arthur a quick kiss. “You liar, you don’t always sleep with your shirt off.”
There’s an uncomfortable silence. “I was cold.”
“And lonely?” Merlin pokes the Kestrel toy gently even though Arthur knows what he means anyway. He can’t help it. Everyone takes every opportunity they get to mock him, and it’s so rare that he gets to do it back (not that he would do it back to Morgana because she would cut him. Or to Gwen because Morgana would cut him then too. Really, Arthur’s his only option).
Arthur extracts the toy from between them and tosses it off the bed, then wraps himself around Merlin and rubs his face into Merlin’s shoulder. “Missed you,” he mutters, and Merlin wishes there were more light because he thinks Arthur might be blushing.
“Yeah, you too,” says Merlin, because he doesn’t want to push his luck, and nuzzles into the bed to fall asleep after his trip.
In the morning, he wakes up to find Arthur wandering around the flat shirtless and being more of a prat than usual, no sign of either the shirt he was wearing to bed or the toy dragon anywhere. Merlin just grins at him over breakfast and drags him back to bed afterwards.
Wordcount: ~1000
Summary: Merlin gets home late and finds a surprise.
A/N: Set in the Show Business 'verse, and may actually slay you with fluff. Because fandom has been giving me joy today and I want to give some back. Also because when I wrote my last short
flammablehat ended up asking me for something that's a spoiler for this fic and I live to please her.Disclaimer: I do not own Merlin. But I do own Kilgharrah's Adventures.
Merlin hates going to conventions without Arthur. It’s never fun, exactly, being on panels and having people ask him questions about things he’s got no clue how to answer without making them write more terrifying stories about him, but at least when Arthur’s there he can pawn off all the difficult questions and then wander around together afterwards since less people recognize them than recognize Matt Smith or Benedict Cumberbatch or whoever else is there and actually gets their faces up on the screens. So when a badly-timed performance of Much Ado About Nothing keeps Arthur in London when Merlin has to be at a convention, Merlin ends up leaving right after the panel and catching a train home instead of staying the night and leaving Sunday morning like he usually would.
Arthur’s not expecting him, since he always forgets to charge his mobile and wouldn’t have it on during a performance anyway, so the flat is dark when Merlin stumbles in at half-past one, half-asleep and ready to crawl into bed. He keeps quiet as well as he can even though Arthur sleeps like a rock (and snores, even if he’ll never admit it) and gets his teeth cleaned and his pajamas out of his case and on himself before going into the bedroom.
The first thing he notices is that Arthur is sleeping on his side of the bed. Well, Arthur sprawls, Merlin suspects that if he weren’t there Arthur would just sleep like a starfish (he doesn’t share well. Sometimes Merlin thinks the reason they cuddle so much at night is because it allows Arthur to take up more of the bed), but it’s the kind of sprawl that makes it obvious that he started the night on Merlin’s side of the bed. The second thing he notices is that Arthur telling him he always sleeps without a shirt on is a lie, because he’s got an old rugby t-shirt on. The third thing he notices is that Arthur is curled up around something tucked up against his chest.
For a second, Merlin thinks Arthur got the kitten he’s been angling after ever since they moved in together, and that maybe he’s sleeping with a shirt on so it won’t scratch him. When his eyes adjust, though, he can tell it’s a bit big to be a kitten, and that it isn’t moving, and there’s something silver glinting. He tiptoes over to the bed and crouches down to look closer, peeking under the edge of the covers.
It takes a few seconds to recognize it and then he has to blink a few times to make sure he isn’t hallucinating, because Arthur is asleep, snoring and clutching a plush Kestrel to his chest. And it’s definitely Kestrel, not just any blue dragon. Merlin’s taken way too many pictures with giggling girls holding the official show product not to recognize it, and there’s the ear flaps and the silver and the half-lidded eyes that Morgana calls “bedroom eyes” when she feels like being particularly horrifying.
And, well. Arthur collects show memorabilia, mostly to bother Merlin. There are action figures and picture books and stickers and the book of the unofficial art from the art department that they gave out at the Kilgharrah’s Adventures Christmas party. And Merlin’s still got the red plush dragon Arthur gave him before they ever met, and keeps it on the top of his dresser where he pats it absently on the head every time he leaves the bedroom, but he is certain that there has never been a plush Kestrel in their flat. And it isn’t new, either, because the tail looks crumpled like Arthur’s slept with it a lot. Which means, most likely, that Arthur spends the nights they’re apart, when Merlin’s visiting his mum or doing whatever or when Arthur’s off touring yet another bit of Shakespeare or enduring a week at Uther’s country house, cuddling a stuffed version of Merlin’s character on their show.
Part of Merlin feels that he should creep back out of their bedroom and then make a lot of noise about coming in so Arthur has time to hide his Kestrel toy, since Merlin is probably not meant to see it. Most of him, however, isn’t that nice, and he’s really curious, so he shakes Arthur’s shoulder. Arthur mumbles something incoherent and scowls in his sleep as he wraps his arms tighter around the toy. Merlin has to bite his lip, and then he gives up and climbs into bed, shoving Arthur’s legs out of the way.
That gets Arthur mumbling his way to consciousness, automatically rolling to accommodate Merlin before he freezes as it apparently occurs to him that Merlin isn’t meant to be there and that there’s a plush toy trapped between their chests. His eyes snap open and Merlin grins at him. “You’re on my side of the bed,” he whispers.
“You’re home. Wasn’t I meant to come pick you up from the station tomorrow?”
“Convention was boring without you, so I started back after the panel.” He gives Arthur a quick kiss. “You liar, you don’t always sleep with your shirt off.”
There’s an uncomfortable silence. “I was cold.”
“And lonely?” Merlin pokes the Kestrel toy gently even though Arthur knows what he means anyway. He can’t help it. Everyone takes every opportunity they get to mock him, and it’s so rare that he gets to do it back (not that he would do it back to Morgana because she would cut him. Or to Gwen because Morgana would cut him then too. Really, Arthur’s his only option).
Arthur extracts the toy from between them and tosses it off the bed, then wraps himself around Merlin and rubs his face into Merlin’s shoulder. “Missed you,” he mutters, and Merlin wishes there were more light because he thinks Arthur might be blushing.
“Yeah, you too,” says Merlin, because he doesn’t want to push his luck, and nuzzles into the bed to fall asleep after his trip.
In the morning, he wakes up to find Arthur wandering around the flat shirtless and being more of a prat than usual, no sign of either the shirt he was wearing to bed or the toy dragon anywhere. Merlin just grins at him over breakfast and drags him back to bed afterwards.