Title: Time's running out.
Rating: NC-17 (just)
Characters: Arthur, Merlin
Summary: Did Arthur ever have time for him? Or was Merlin asking too much?
Word Count: 521
Prompt: #12, Time
Author Notes: Couldn't get this out of my head even if I had just written one. So just had to do two.
Merlin was fuming. Arthur had promised to spend the whole of today with him, knowing how much it meant to his boyfriend. But when the office had called and said it was an emergency, he had once again dropped everything to go. Well, Merlin might have agreed, but he didn’t think Arthur should hold him to that considering the man was in the process of sucking his brains out through his cock at the time and Merlin had been incoherent of anything but moans of approval.
Yet he had promised to be home in time for dinner, where his phone would be turned off and he wouldn’t even check his emails, dictating the whole evening to his lover. Merlin had everything timed to perfect, the food cooked, the candles lit and the wine open.
Then the promised time had come and gone. Then gone a little more as the clock continued to tick by and there was no sign of Arthur. Not even a call to say that he was running late, and Merlin knew that could only mean one thing. Arthur was caught up in his work and had forgotten about him. Again.
After an hour had gone by, Merlin had blown out the candles, poured himself a large glass of wine and glared moodily at the spoilt food. Chucking back the alcohol faster than strictly sensible considering he was known to be a bit of a light weight, he had then shed his clothing. The skin tight black t-shirt had followed the tight jeans into a corner in the room. He pulled on underwear – determined that Arthur was not going to have easy access in order to make him forget that he was angry – and wriggled into baggy jogging bottoms and one of Arthur’s tops, drowning himself in them and curling up on the sofa. It wasn’t supposed to be the wine he was hugging to his chest though.
Merlin knew this had to stop. Will had always told him that Arthur would never get his priorities right, that he would also put work first. Merlin had fought his boyfriend’s corner, determined to stick with Arthur no matter what. But now he had had enough.
He had just managed to work himself into a fine temper, prepared to tell Arthur precisely what he thought when the phone rang. Thinking it was the man himself finally remembering his existence, Merlin barked a greeting into the phone.
Five minutes later, and it was falling from his numb fingers.
Stable, but critical.
Obviously in a hurry, driving too fast.
Need to operate.
Can he get to the hospital before he was taken into surgery?
Merlin had no idea how he called a cab, his mind blank. He had been angry at Arthur for not making it home. And all this time, Arthur had been trying. Hell, it had almost cost him his life to get home to Merlin.
Running out into the pouring rain and jumping into the taxi, Merlin vowed he would never make Arthur be home by a certain time again. Even if it was their anniversary.