2 Works by maggotinfested
Listing Works
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Summary
Arthur lets his mind wander as a pale cloud passes over the crescent moon, as if it’s blinking in the spotlight of his hard gaze. What would he have said?
From warrior to warrior. Knight to knight.
Envisions Merlin’s lanky frame in the castle corridor, restlessly looking out the window. The moon is the same as tonight. Arthur is in his nightshirt.
“Merlin”, he says, and his voice is calm but Merlin flinches anyway, whirls around a little too fast.
His eyes are wide and sad.
What would he say?
There’s nothing and so, so much.--
It's months past Merlin's magic reveal, and Arthur lays in bed at night, thinking back on all the signs he should've seen but didn't.
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Summary
Generally, Merlin’s skin remembers Arthur’s touch for longer than it lasts for. The occasional bruise, the soft ache or sting of whatever abuse he was assaulted with last, reminding him of how Arthur’s hands feel long after they’re gone. It doesn’t take long until Merlin connects this dull ache with Arthur, feels at home with it, like this is what they are: a soft, throbbing pain, whispering of a memory much shorter and briefer than itself. Joy and frustration. Ease and discomfort.
Arthur and Merlin getting to know each other through casual touches, touch as a love language, and all that it could mean and become if only the other would do something about it.