Title: A Minor Detour, Part 28
Character/s: Merlin, Athur
Summary: The interruption had broken the mood enough that Merlin mourned the moment as lost even after the door closed with the Knights and associates on the other side, leaving him and Arthur alone again.
Word Count: 655
Prompt: #357: Try Again
Author’s Notes: Previous parts on AO3
It hadn’t taken long for Arthur to chase everyone out with an assurance they didn’t need saving and a command to knock before coming back—not that either of them trusted it would be obeyed, especially with Gwaine in the mix. Still, the interruption had broken the mood enough that Merlin mourned the moment as lost even after the door closed with the Knights and associates on the other side, leaving him and Arthur alone again.
Seemed like they were always missing their chance. For all that he knew Arthur scoffed at any talk about fate or other forms of divine intervention, and for all he wasn’t an overly superstitious person himself, he couldn’t help feeling like he should take the hint. If the universe itself was trying to keep them apart, could he really keep fighting that?
Of course he could.
And even if he couldn’t, Arthur would anyway and would drag him into the fight, because that was what Arthur did.
So when Arthur turned away from the door and back to Merlin, he was wearing the same cocky smile that had been wiped from his face moments before. It had always sent a thrill through Merlin, because he was the kind of idiot who fell for that smug charm; he’d come to accept that about himself. Compounded with how his heart still raced from how he’d almost kissed that smirk and with the way he swore he could actually feel the heat from Arthur’s eyes as they fixed on him, he was about ready to swoon like an overacted holodrama heroine.
“What were you saying?” Arthur’s voice was casual even if his expression wasn’t.
“You were about to say something, I think, before the misguided cavalry interrupted us.”
Was he? “Was I?” He didn’t remember being about to say anything. He remembered being about to do something, and the thing he had been about to do was kiss Arthur, and there were no words that could possibly have been more important than that. There were still no words more important than that.
On the subject of things that weren’t important, his minor panic about the whims of the universe interfering with his love life was clearly absurd. The universe didn’t care who he kissed, it had way too many other things going on to worry about what one spacefaring orphan got up to. Arthur’s life was of more significance to more people, sure, but in the grand scheme of everything in the entire universe, even he surely couldn’t be enough to get bothered about.
Also, the universe wasn’t actually a sentient thing to be bothered with anyone at all. The stars did have a certain energy to them, a connection that flowed through the void that he alone, as far as he’d ever found, could hear and see spinning in his mind. But that wasn’t the same as life; he’d spent hours enough as a child trying to engage with that force he could feel and hearing nothing back to know that with certainty.
The other thing he knew, looking at Arthur looking at him, was that he would fight the universe and everything in it if he needed to. If they kept missing their chances, they would just make more. They would keep trying until they made it work, because they were stubborn and in love.
“You are the most obnoxious smegging git I have ever met,” he declared.
Then he grabbed Arthur by the front of his shirt, took advantage of his surprise to pull him in the short distance remaining between them, and kissed him.
Though it started out as sudden as their last, it gentled as soon as their lips met. The desire was the same, the years of longing and denial, but the desperation was less. It was a beginning, not an ending.