Right, then. I figure I might as well post my story that I did for
![[info]](http://l-stat.livejournal.com/img/community.gif?v=92.1)
merlin_ficart a million years ago. It won first place for fanfics. :D There is also the respective art by
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springinstep , who also helped me Britpick.
Title: And Then There Were Two
Partner: springinstep Art: linkWord Count: 2,268
Rating: T
Genre(s): Other
Character(s)/Pairing(s): Arthur/Merlin
Warnings/Spoilers: N/A
Disclaimer: These versions of Merlin Emrys and Arthur Pendragon are intellectual property of the BBC.
They wake up next to each other.
"The hell is this?" Says Arthur, "Why are you in my bed?"
The way he says 'you,' he could've been talking to something small and useless, like a rat or a spot of mold on the sheets. Instead, he's talking to Merlin.
"This is my apartment." Merlin grunts, rolling away from him. Arthur, however, doesn't care about something so trivial. All he wants is for Merlin to leave, and he's just about to say so until the obvious occurs to him.
Arthur gets up too quickly, stumbling a bit and pressing the heel of his hand to his forehead. The pain shocks him, but he's not surprised that it's there. He'd been drinking rather heavily last night, which also explains why he had ended up sleeping with Merlin, even after he had found out that –
Merlin sits up, painlessly, in the bed. Had this been any other time, he would have been halfway to the bathroom to fetch Arthur Aspirin and water, and Arthur would have been extremely grateful. However, had this been any other time, Arthur would not have been aware of the reason why Merlin, with no precautions whatsoever, consistently remains hangover free. He wouldn't have given him the icy glare that freezes him in his tracks.
When Arthur leaves the room, Merlin lays back down, trying and failing to go back to sleep. He hears Arthur moving around his apartment, using the washroom, shifting things. The noise keeps him awake, and the off-balance feel he's gotten from Arthur's look doesn't help much, either. Merlin hears the microwave running, and he curses and pulls a pillow over his head. No matter what, he decides, he's not getting out of bed. He isn't up for another fight with some prat just because he hasn't got the decency to ask before eating someone's food.
The front door slams and the apartment is quiet again. Merlin slides from his bed and goes to the kitchen, ignoring the empty instant breakfast carton littering his counter. He toasts a couple of slices of a whole-grain loaf while he retrieves his mobile phone from the bedside table. It's a Saturday, and it would be a better idea to visit Gwen or Lance or something instead of hanging around his place feeling off-balance and a little dirty.
Merlin's been waiting at the bus stop for twenty minutes when he realizes; He's surprised that he hadn't noticed sooner – there hadn't been enough cars for him to cross at the light. There hadn't been any cars at all – not any moving cars, at least. They're parked up and down the street, but not a single one is being driven.
He stands up from the bus stop, feeling very off-balance and not dirty at all. He finds himself looking both ways before crossing the street and running into his apartment building.
Arthur is there, sitting outside of Merlin's flat with his head on his knees. He hears Merlin coming and stands quickly, brushing dust from his jeans.
"I didn't come to apologize," he starts, "I just –"
"There's no one out there."
Merlin is blunt and Arthur relaxes a bit, his tone almost civil.
"No shit," He says. "I can't even call a cab."
§
So they hadn't been officially together, not really, but with the amount of time they spent at clubs and in Merlin's bed and at coffee shops during the mornings after, they might as well have been. And though they weren't actually dating and neither of them had said anything to suggest that they were, Merlin had decided that, yeah, this thing they had going might be worth something, and if he wanted something deeper with Arthur, it was only fair that he knew Merlin was… well, magic.
He had been prepared for anger, prepared for the shocked hurt look that came with Arthur's sting of betrayal. But he couldn't even begin to imagine the hatred.
Arthur didn’t even need to say anything – he just looked at him and left, and Merlin knew they were over. He saw him a few nights later and approached him, opening with the classic line:
"We really need to talk."
"What's there to talk about?"
Arthur had cooled down by now, collected himself. But his answer had been the same:
"I wouldn't get back with you if you were the last man on the planet."
§
The power goes out fast. It takes three days, maybe. Probably less. The water, fortunately, lasts a bit longer. It's nearly a week until the shower sputters to a stop, leaving Merlin with a head full of shampoo. He figures that there will be more water – in other houses, stored in the tanks – but only until the rust from the condensation leaks into it, or it goes stagnant from disuse.
"We need to leave here," Merlin says to Arthur, the first words either of them have spoken in a while.
They make plans when they can, and when they manage to stop fighting for a few hours or when Merlin doesn't catch the dirty looks or the scalding, muttered comments that Arthur sometimes feels obligated to send his way, they draft lists of supplies and visit convenience stores to stock up on food. Merlin leaves enough cash to pay for the things they take – he insists it's stealing, otherwise – and when he runs out of money, Arthur's secretly glad that he's been forced from his moral high ground.
The grocery stores, of course, are where the best things are, but neither of them can stand the smell of rotting produce and spoiled meat enough to even open the doors. Instead, much to Merlin's chagrin, they lower their standards a bit more and start breaking into homes. As long as they don't open trash cans or unwashed dishwashers, they'll be alright.
On a day when Arthur forgets that Merlin's supposed to be evil, Merlin reigns in his magic and together they force open the automatic doors of an ASDA. There are flashlights and batteries near the front, and candy and toys, and clothing and skateboards and bicycles and nearly everything that they haven't had time to think about, not when they were too busy trying to live.
That evening, they bike figure-eights through the empty streets, all the way to Arthur's for matches and imported brandy: Cabriere Fine de Jourdan. They camp out in back, eating stolen chocolate bars and passing the Cabriere back and forth in the light of citronella candles. They start to talk about their families, saying deep, painful things: they both hate their fathers and love their mothers (or at least their respective ideas of them), and they both wonder if their parents' lives would have been much different if they were never born. Then Merlin says something silly, Arthur's retort is too strong, and the brief scuffle that ensues escalates into something composed of prying hands and hungry mouths, flushed skin and unquenchable heat.
The morning after, they wake with Arthur drooling on Merlin's bare chest, Arthur groggy and achy. This puts a three-day hold on their plans: they spend time in different parts of the city until Merlin can stop imagining Arthur naked and Arthur can stop imagining that he has something in common with a warlock.
When the sun is high on the fourth day, Merlin decides to go to Ealdor. Arthur refuses, of course, informing Merlin of Ealdor's status as a deadbeat little hick town with no promise. I know, Merlin says. But he's gone and 'borrowed' a van from one of the people living in his apartment building and filled it with supplies; his foot is on the pedal before A climbs into the front passenger seat and slides his knapsack behind him without a word.
Ealdor's even more desolate than Arthur imagines. Still, he gets out of the van and follows Merlin into the houses when they stop, trailing behind him as he calls names that Arthur's never heard before, and that he'll never remember.
"Will!" he calls at one house, many times, pleading.
They reach a small house near the middle of town. There are pictures on the wall of a happy dark-haired boy, and a woman with the kindest eyes that Arthur has ever seen.
"Mum!" Arthur hears Merlin cry, and he's annoyed: Too many houses.
"Mum!"
Too many lost.
Merlin comes out of one of the bedrooms, closing the door behind him.
"…They're all gone."
"Yes, well. That's what it means when we say 'everyone's disappeared.'"
Merlin's clutching something small and brown. It's a child's toy, a teddy bear? It's partially deflated, half of the stuffing gone through a hole in its side. It's missing an eye.
"Here," says Arthur, reaching for the bear and placing a hand on Merlin's back. He feels him stiffen, grip the bear tighter.
"They're all gone. And I'm stuck here… with you! And you don't even like me anymore. And we've had so much sex, and – and you don't even like me!"
Arthur doesn't know what to do, now that Merlin's pushing him away.
§
Will had met Arthur once, and for maybe twenty minutes.
"I don't like him," he had said to Merlin shortly after, "He looks like a prat."
"How does someone look like a prat?" Merlin scoffed, grinning. "Just give him a chance, Will."
"I'm your best mate. 'Give prat a chance' is not in my job description."
Will became very solemn, then, watching Merlin intently until his smile turned brittle.
"He'll break your heart, Merlin. I know it."
§
It's difficult to get Merlin to leave Ealdor.
He's curled up on his sofa, wringing the neck of the unfortunate looking bear. The silence is unnerving, especially inside the house. Arthur had never realized how much he would miss the ticking of a clock, or the low buzz of electricity.
"We can't stay here," Arthur says after a while. His words are swallowed up by the silence, and once the echo's disappeared, he wonders if he's said anything at all.
"Merlin –"
"It could've been anyone," Merlin sounds like he wishes it had been. Anyone else, anyone but Arthur.
"It had to be us, didn't it…" He continues, wiping his eyes. "You and me."
Arthur resists a snarky quip about destiny and waits for Merlin to stand.
Arthur doesn't let him drive back, not all the way from Ealdor, and especially not like this. It's a good thing, too – not half an hour after Arthur starts driving, Merlin's asleep in the passenger seat, head against the window.
It's nice, watching Merlin sleep. Not that he'd ever say it out loud. It's just that Arthur hadn't seen him – hadn't been able to see him – like this. Tranquil. Not for a long time, if ever. He definitely wouldn't have been able to wear such a gentle expression with Arthur nearby. Not since they broke up – or rather, not since Arthur broke up with him.
Arthur reaches over, tracing the line of Merlin's lips with his thumb until his shifts in his sleep.
Merlin had had a point – It could've been anyone.
Arthur pulls away quickly, as if burned.
It should've been anyone.
§
He can remember his father's words like they had been said to him just moments ago:
"Magic users have no free will. They are slaves to their powers, and their thirst for more power is the only thing that compels them. The magic user who says he feels anything for anyone lies. Cast him from your presence."
As each day passes, he remembers Uther's face less and less.
§
Merlin wakes up and Arthur's studying him, pensive and cautious.
They're close enough to kiss, but Arthur settles for stroking Merlin's cheek and a whispered "I'm sorry."
And he is. He really is.
§
When they get to Morgana's, the apartment is a complete mess.
Pantry doors are hanging open, all of them empty. Bed sheets are gone, stripped from the mattress and taken from the linen cupboard.
"Look at that," Arthur says, and Merlin can hear the hollowness behind his wry tone.
"They made off with everything, right before the whole world disappeared."
"What are you talking about?"
"Burglars?"
Merlin laughs.
"What kind of burglar steals…" his gesture takes in the entire apartment. "Food. Who steals food?"
"We've been stealing food."
"Yeah, but we need it. And besides, nothing's even broken. Not the doors, not the windows… no one's broken in."
"Maybe she forgot to lock up?"
"Does Morgana seem like the kind of person to forget to lock her doors?"
Of course not.
§
So, they decide to look for Morgana.
Don't get your hopes up, Arthur keeps saying. We might be reading too deeply into it.
They search Morgana's favorite hangouts, and places where she was obligated to go: The club where she had celebrated her twenty-first birthday, and where she had first met Leon. Where they had buried Ygraine, and her own parents.
Arthur twirls a baseball bat as they walk, scanning store windows. They've gone deep into the heart of the city, and unlike residential areas, it's not quite as easy to find a place to sleep.
"And even if she is alive," Arthur says, twirling. "We might never find her. What then?
"We live." Merlin shrugs. "I dunno. We'll be okay, I think."
Arthur raises an eyebrow. "You think?" He stops in front of a BHS. They have beds, he thinks, don't they?
Merlin grins. "Yeah, we'll be okay."
If Arthur hears Merlin mutter an enchantment as he swings the bat towards the glass, he doesn't say a word.
end.
me, FTW!!!
>3>
>.<;;
