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lady_ragnell) wrote2010-10-05 04:40 pm
lady_ragnell) wrote2010-10-05 04:40 pm
Entry tags:
Isn't it Lovely (Epilogue)
Several anons on the meme asked for an epilogue/sequel and I am nothing if not obliging. Warnings/disclaimer on the first part (which is here: http://lady-ragnell.livejournal.com/4153.html )
“Ah, so you’re the infamous Merlin,” says Morgana as they arrive at the pub, and Arthur is immediately torn between going to get the drinks himself so Merlin doesn’t have to deal with that particular bit of nonsense yet or sending Merlin away so Morgana won’t interrogate him.
Merlin makes the decision for him. “I’ll just go get drinks, shall I?”
Arthur grabs his wrist before he can make for the bar and whispers in his ear. “Are you sure you’re comfortable with that?”
“We had establishments like this in the nineteenth century too,” Merlin hisses, and grins at Arthur before stealing his wallet with a twitch of his fingers and a gold-eyed blink.
When Arthur remembers how to breathe (it’s been two weeks since Merlin came out of the damn painting and he still gets breathless every time Merlin does magic), Morgana and Gwen are staring at him with identical expressions of delight and bemusement. “You know,” says Morgana, “I was going to give you a very stern lecture and interrogate him about his intentions because you absolutely never move this fast, but I take it all back, the two of you are adorable.”
Gwen’s smile is soft as he sits down. “He’s the reason you asked for the yoga tapes, isn’t he? I knew that wasn’t you.”
“I’m plenty flexible,” he says, mostly for form’s sake.
“That’s why you were being so shifty,” Morgana says, snapping her fingers. “Naughty lad, you ought to have told us about him before!”
Arthur can’t help but laugh. Well, you did meet him, but you thought he was a painting at the time, he thinks about saying, but he overcomes the impulse. “Perhaps I wanted your nose out of my business for a while.”
“How did you meet him?” asks Gwen, patient as ever with their sniping.
They’ve spent a great deal of the past two weeks slowly insinuating information about Merlin into records and archives and ID banks, a combination of Merlin’s magic and Gaius’s surprisingly shady connections (Arthur knew all those antiques couldn’t be quite legal), and giving him a story to go with it all. “He’s a nephew of one of Gaius’s school friends, and he’s new to the city looking for a job. I ran into him at the shop when I was searching for your birthday present, as he’s helping out there while he looks for a better job.”
Morgana smirks at him. “I’ll bet he’s the reason you bought that dreadful painting you showed us. You’ve always bought anything from a pretty face.” She quirks an eyebrow and looks over his shoulder towards the bar. “He actually looks a bit like the man in the picture.”
“Yes, of course, Morgana,” he drawls, “I bought the painting because it looks exactly like Merlin. Actually, Gaius bought that back from me because there was a collector who wanted it.” Well, actually Merlin had burned it, reconstituted the ashes back into a painting, and burned it again for good measure, but that was difficult to explain.
“And he’s living with you now?”
Morgana draws her eyebrows together, and Arthur remembers Sophia and Vivian and several other significant others from the past who moved fast because he was the Pendragon heir and they wanted the connections or the money. “I thought this wasn’t supposed to be an interrogation,” he says lightly.
“Arthur--” Gwen starts.
Merlin sets a pint down in front of Arthur, and when Arthur looks up he’s grinning. “See?” he says under his breath. “I didn’t get lost or anything. Also,” he adds louder, “I brought you a present but you didn’t wait outside the pub long enough to get it.”
“Now this I have to see,” says Morgana, and props her chin on her hands.
“You could have waited till we got back to the flat,” Arthur mutters.
Merlin’s already rummaging in his rucksack and draws out a book with a triumphant grin to hand it over to Arthur. He’s barely even surprised when it turns out to be The Picture of Dorian Grey. Although Merlin is touchy about his time in the painting, for some reason he’s also forever bothering Arthur with reminders of it, whether he’s listening obsessively to Pictures at an Exhibition or dragging him to museum after museum. “Wilde?” asks Morgana, baffled. “Since when does Arthur read anything but what’s popular?”
“Since Merlin thinks he’s clever,” Arthur answers, and tries to glare but can’t quite manage it.
After their initial misgivings, Morgana and Gwen take to Merlin as Arthur had hoped they would, and by the end of the night he’s promising to meet Gwen for coffee and talking about books he wants to borrow from Morgana. He even twines his fingers through Arthur’s, something he hasn’t done in before in public. Merlin’s sparing with his physical affection, even if Arthur’s always catching him looking with a soft expression on his face, but Arthur can’t really blame him. They could have been arrested for holding hands, the last time Merlin was outside the painting.
Merlin’s still holding his hand when they walk out into the night, and Arthur lets him lead a few blocks towards home before tugging him to a stop and shoving the book under his nose. “What’s all this about?”
When Merlin pulls away, Arthur lets him, but he also ducks his head a bit to hold Merlin’s eyes. “Can we talk about this at home?”
It’s not late enough that the streets are empty, so Arthur nods and they start walking again, in silence this time. Merlin’s jaw is tense and unhappy, and Arthur shoves his hands in his pockets and silently curses himself for questioning until Merlin curls his fingers around his wrist as they key into the building. “What’s the matter?” Arthur asks the second they get through the door to their flat.
Merlin takes the book and sits carefully on the sofa. Arthur joins him, leaving a few inches of space like always, but Merlin scoots closer and sighs. “I just ... can’t quite believe that I’m out, you know? It all seemed too easy in the end, so I’m looking for a catch, I guess. And I thought, maybe if I made a joke out of it you wouldn’t worry.”
Arthur leans his head against Merlin’s, and Merlin’s hair tickles his lips when he speaks. “Your being stuck in there was never a joke. You could have told me, yeah?”
But then, he should have known. Merlin has a habit of spacing out and staring around like he doesn’t quite recognize anything, and Arthur caught him just looking at his hands one morning like he couldn’t believe they were there. And he remembers from his few minutes in the painting how off the world looked. “Like I said, I just don’t want you to worry.”
To hell with Merlin’s Victorian sensibilities. Arthur puts an arm around him and presses a kiss to his temple. “Mordred is dead. The painting is burnt, you took care of that yourself. I offered to take your place, and did for a few seconds, and then you fixed it. It’s over.”
Merlin nods against his mouth. “Yeah, I know that, but I don’t know exactly. And then when I do convince myself this is for good, I start wondering if there are other people who have been stuck for centuries, and I don’t know how to fix that if it is real ...”
“That explains the museum visits,” realizes Arthur, and Merlin nods again. “Wouldn’t you be able to feel the magic on them if so?”
“Yes, that’s why I go see them in person.”
“Oh, sweetheart.” Arthur refuses to be embarrassed by that. “You really should have told me. We’ll visit every painting in London, if that’s what it takes. I’ll even take you to Paris and go to the Louvre, even though Morgana will mock me forever for suddenly becoming an art enthusiast.”
Merlin gives him an impish smile. “Oh, the Louvre?”
“What about the Louvre?” asks Arthur, wary.
“Well, the Mona Lisa--”
“No. No way. You are messing with me and I refuse to believe it.”
Merlin laughs and kisses him, but Arthur gets the funny feeling he isn’t kidding.
“Ah, so you’re the infamous Merlin,” says Morgana as they arrive at the pub, and Arthur is immediately torn between going to get the drinks himself so Merlin doesn’t have to deal with that particular bit of nonsense yet or sending Merlin away so Morgana won’t interrogate him.
Merlin makes the decision for him. “I’ll just go get drinks, shall I?”
Arthur grabs his wrist before he can make for the bar and whispers in his ear. “Are you sure you’re comfortable with that?”
“We had establishments like this in the nineteenth century too,” Merlin hisses, and grins at Arthur before stealing his wallet with a twitch of his fingers and a gold-eyed blink.
When Arthur remembers how to breathe (it’s been two weeks since Merlin came out of the damn painting and he still gets breathless every time Merlin does magic), Morgana and Gwen are staring at him with identical expressions of delight and bemusement. “You know,” says Morgana, “I was going to give you a very stern lecture and interrogate him about his intentions because you absolutely never move this fast, but I take it all back, the two of you are adorable.”
Gwen’s smile is soft as he sits down. “He’s the reason you asked for the yoga tapes, isn’t he? I knew that wasn’t you.”
“I’m plenty flexible,” he says, mostly for form’s sake.
“That’s why you were being so shifty,” Morgana says, snapping her fingers. “Naughty lad, you ought to have told us about him before!”
Arthur can’t help but laugh. Well, you did meet him, but you thought he was a painting at the time, he thinks about saying, but he overcomes the impulse. “Perhaps I wanted your nose out of my business for a while.”
“How did you meet him?” asks Gwen, patient as ever with their sniping.
They’ve spent a great deal of the past two weeks slowly insinuating information about Merlin into records and archives and ID banks, a combination of Merlin’s magic and Gaius’s surprisingly shady connections (Arthur knew all those antiques couldn’t be quite legal), and giving him a story to go with it all. “He’s a nephew of one of Gaius’s school friends, and he’s new to the city looking for a job. I ran into him at the shop when I was searching for your birthday present, as he’s helping out there while he looks for a better job.”
Morgana smirks at him. “I’ll bet he’s the reason you bought that dreadful painting you showed us. You’ve always bought anything from a pretty face.” She quirks an eyebrow and looks over his shoulder towards the bar. “He actually looks a bit like the man in the picture.”
“Yes, of course, Morgana,” he drawls, “I bought the painting because it looks exactly like Merlin. Actually, Gaius bought that back from me because there was a collector who wanted it.” Well, actually Merlin had burned it, reconstituted the ashes back into a painting, and burned it again for good measure, but that was difficult to explain.
“And he’s living with you now?”
Morgana draws her eyebrows together, and Arthur remembers Sophia and Vivian and several other significant others from the past who moved fast because he was the Pendragon heir and they wanted the connections or the money. “I thought this wasn’t supposed to be an interrogation,” he says lightly.
“Arthur--” Gwen starts.
Merlin sets a pint down in front of Arthur, and when Arthur looks up he’s grinning. “See?” he says under his breath. “I didn’t get lost or anything. Also,” he adds louder, “I brought you a present but you didn’t wait outside the pub long enough to get it.”
“Now this I have to see,” says Morgana, and props her chin on her hands.
“You could have waited till we got back to the flat,” Arthur mutters.
Merlin’s already rummaging in his rucksack and draws out a book with a triumphant grin to hand it over to Arthur. He’s barely even surprised when it turns out to be The Picture of Dorian Grey. Although Merlin is touchy about his time in the painting, for some reason he’s also forever bothering Arthur with reminders of it, whether he’s listening obsessively to Pictures at an Exhibition or dragging him to museum after museum. “Wilde?” asks Morgana, baffled. “Since when does Arthur read anything but what’s popular?”
“Since Merlin thinks he’s clever,” Arthur answers, and tries to glare but can’t quite manage it.
After their initial misgivings, Morgana and Gwen take to Merlin as Arthur had hoped they would, and by the end of the night he’s promising to meet Gwen for coffee and talking about books he wants to borrow from Morgana. He even twines his fingers through Arthur’s, something he hasn’t done in before in public. Merlin’s sparing with his physical affection, even if Arthur’s always catching him looking with a soft expression on his face, but Arthur can’t really blame him. They could have been arrested for holding hands, the last time Merlin was outside the painting.
Merlin’s still holding his hand when they walk out into the night, and Arthur lets him lead a few blocks towards home before tugging him to a stop and shoving the book under his nose. “What’s all this about?”
When Merlin pulls away, Arthur lets him, but he also ducks his head a bit to hold Merlin’s eyes. “Can we talk about this at home?”
It’s not late enough that the streets are empty, so Arthur nods and they start walking again, in silence this time. Merlin’s jaw is tense and unhappy, and Arthur shoves his hands in his pockets and silently curses himself for questioning until Merlin curls his fingers around his wrist as they key into the building. “What’s the matter?” Arthur asks the second they get through the door to their flat.
Merlin takes the book and sits carefully on the sofa. Arthur joins him, leaving a few inches of space like always, but Merlin scoots closer and sighs. “I just ... can’t quite believe that I’m out, you know? It all seemed too easy in the end, so I’m looking for a catch, I guess. And I thought, maybe if I made a joke out of it you wouldn’t worry.”
Arthur leans his head against Merlin’s, and Merlin’s hair tickles his lips when he speaks. “Your being stuck in there was never a joke. You could have told me, yeah?”
But then, he should have known. Merlin has a habit of spacing out and staring around like he doesn’t quite recognize anything, and Arthur caught him just looking at his hands one morning like he couldn’t believe they were there. And he remembers from his few minutes in the painting how off the world looked. “Like I said, I just don’t want you to worry.”
To hell with Merlin’s Victorian sensibilities. Arthur puts an arm around him and presses a kiss to his temple. “Mordred is dead. The painting is burnt, you took care of that yourself. I offered to take your place, and did for a few seconds, and then you fixed it. It’s over.”
Merlin nods against his mouth. “Yeah, I know that, but I don’t know exactly. And then when I do convince myself this is for good, I start wondering if there are other people who have been stuck for centuries, and I don’t know how to fix that if it is real ...”
“That explains the museum visits,” realizes Arthur, and Merlin nods again. “Wouldn’t you be able to feel the magic on them if so?”
“Yes, that’s why I go see them in person.”
“Oh, sweetheart.” Arthur refuses to be embarrassed by that. “You really should have told me. We’ll visit every painting in London, if that’s what it takes. I’ll even take you to Paris and go to the Louvre, even though Morgana will mock me forever for suddenly becoming an art enthusiast.”
Merlin gives him an impish smile. “Oh, the Louvre?”
“What about the Louvre?” asks Arthur, wary.
“Well, the Mona Lisa--”
“No. No way. You are messing with me and I refuse to believe it.”
Merlin laughs and kisses him, but Arthur gets the funny feeling he isn’t kidding.
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you're a genius, you are.
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I've seen this before in KMM, and I'm utterly delighted to see that it has a cute epilogue ♥
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I truly loved this story, it was so sweet and new and lovely and oh, I really enjoyed this Merlin and Arthur of yours!!!
Be well :).
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Really loved it all along, amazing job !
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I would love a story about Merlin and Arthur on LAM because they've absconded with the Mona Lisa. Except of course, the Mona Lisa is now an italian woman from the fourteeth century, not a painting. Hee!
Keep up the good work!
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Also,
...Gaius’s surprisingly shady connections (Arthur knew all those antiques couldn’t be quite legal),
I don't know why but I found this bit so hilarious.
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