Title: Jet Lag
Character/s: Merlin, Arthur
Summary: Travelling is a pain
Word Count: 618
Prompt: "I miss moments like this more than anything"
Author's Notes: tooth rotting fluff...
Merlin turned the key to his flat and let himself into the tiny entrance hall.
His shoulders drooped in a way that only comes when one has spent the past thirty-four hours travelling.
He gripped his backpack tighter, fighting the urge to just drop it at his feet, knowing he’ll leave it lying there for at least a week before he has the energy to pick it up again. His eyes felt gritty and the passage seemed to stretch out in front of him. Could he really make the last part of his trip to his bedroom, or should he just sit down here and sleep?
It was so tempting.
He shook his head and with a slight stumble and hitch in his step, he waded into the flat. Past the kitchen door, into the living room, right turn, ten steps.
There it was. His bedroom, with his bed and the piles of clothes he’d forgotten to pack before his trip strewn on every surface. The bed was unmade and the air was musty.
The backpack dropped with a thud and he tripped towards his bed, falling face-first into the bedding.
Sleep took him almost immediately.
Merlin came to in slow shifts, rising to feel the scratch of the cotton against his face then down into the floaty nothingness of dreams then back towards the solidness of being.
There was something pulling him up, some kind of tether that drifted behind his ear - back and forth, back and forth. A similar tether was pulling him by his hip, the same soft back and forth that he felt himself chasing.
It felt that he used all his willpower to follow the links up, up, up until he felt himself come back into his body until he could open his eyes.
A familiar face came into view and the ghostly back and forth solidified into fingers, softly dragging themselves across his skin.
“Urgh,” Merlin croaked.
“Indeed,” said the man lying next to him.
“Shower,” replied Merlin.
“You definitely need one. Toothbrush too.”
Merlin made an aborted attempt to smack the chest he was lying against.
“But not right now,” whispered the voice. “I missed this too much.”
“Arthur,” whined Merlin and pushed himself closer into the body next to him.
“I’m here.” He replied, brushing a kiss against Merlin’s forehead. “Sleep a little more.”
“Sleep, nah…. Shower...you...me…” Merlin heaved himself up and shook his head to clear. “Up.”
Merlin didn’t need to pull Arthur towards the bathroom. He knew he was right behind him.
The shower felt better than anything he’d ever experienced, especially with Arthur there to scrub his back, lean him against the wall and suck him off.
He had missed Arthur while he was away. Missed the morning kisses, the shared showers the cuddling and hugs.
But it was later when Arthur had sat him down in the kitchen and threw together a massive English fry up, placed the plate in front of him and teased him about almost putting salt in his coffee.
He felt it come out around the mouth full of egg and toast he was currently chewing.
"I miss moments like this more than anything,” he said.
“Next time I’ll come with, and we won’t have to miss anything.”
Merlin snorted at the mental image of Arthur up to his knees in mud whilst trying to save a few shards of pottery from a tropical rainstorm that was flooding the archaeological dig site.
“Yeah, you can live out your dream of being Indiana Jones.”
“Only for you, Lara Croft.”
Merlin nearly fell off his seat as he tried to kick Arhtur’s shin.
Yeah, he didn’t want to miss another moment.