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magog_83I'm dragging myself away from revising chapter one to post this :D Oh the joys of Christmas.
ANYWAY, I hope you like it, it got a little longer than I was expecting but I know you won't mind.
Tonight's fic is from Red Window Frames.
NADOLIG LLAWEN EVERYONE!!!
Although Merlin’s magic was pretty powerful, and his latent Jedi skills were impressive (whatever Arthur might say), his psychic visions still needed work. He could predict with startling accuracy just what his mother’s face would look like if she came home to find the sofa on the roof, or how many ducks would fit in an average family sized bathtub (like the one in Merlin’s bathroom, for example) but he was rubbish at predicting visitors.
His mother liked to tell him this was because he’d melted the doorbell and he never heard anyone knocking, but Merlin knew it was just another area of magical expertise he had yet to fully hone. He’d tried practising in the summer with Arthur, but apparently trying to guess what people were going to say before they said it was ‘annoying.’ Merlin was still sceptical, but he’d put his psychic training aside, if only to stop Arthur putting him in a headlock every time he tried it.
So really, it was entirely Arthur’s fault that he didn’t hear him knocking. That, and the fact that he was up a tree in the snow covered garden, scouring the horizon for the hoover which might, or might not, have gone wandering again.
“You’re early!” said Merlin indignantly, clambering down with a few judicious prods of magic and a broken tree branch. “I wasn’t expecting you until July.”
Arthur came to a halt at the foot of the tree, looking rather disconcerted. “I did phone you. Last week, don’t you remember?”
Merlin had a vague recollection of a telephone call, and an even vaguer recollection of someone saying something about a visit, but he’d been trying to dig a mince pie out of the kitchen door with a spatula so it was possible he hadn’t fully taken it in. “Are you sure?” he asked instead.
“Of course I’m sure,” said Arthur crossly, “You were saying something about a flying mince pie so I know I had the right number.”
Merlin decided to ignore that bit. “Well you’re here now anyway,” he said, determined to be magnanimous at this festive season. Then he thought of something. “You haven’t come to check up on my experiments, have you?”
Arthur just gave Merlin a look, which Merlin interpreted as a no. Then he coughed, and looked a bit embarrassed. “No, I’m only dropping by. I don’t have long, dad and Morgana are just picking up my aunt and then stopping for me on the way back but I just wanted to... Well...” He suddenly thrust a brightly wrapped parcel at Merlin.
“What’s that?”
“It’s a Christmas present.” The ‘idiot’ was silent, but even Merlin’s untrained psychic skills could pick it up.
“What does it do?” Merlin gave the parcel a prod.
There was an exasperated sigh before Arthur was shoving the parcel fully into Merlin’s hands, drawing back almost as quickly. “Just open it, it’s nothing weird. Well, not normal people weird.”
Merlin gave him one more narrow eyed glance before he set to tearing off the paper to reveal... “It’s a magic book!”
“I thought you might find it, you know, useful, or whatever.”
“It’s a real magic book.” Merlin said, wondering. He opened it and found list upon list of remedies and ancient spells and some really quite disturbing pictures which didn’t seem at all anatomically correct.
“Of course it’s real,” Arthur was saying. “Morgana found it online. It’s all earth magic and stuff, which I know you’re crap at but I thought you might learn something. Or you could just blow it up. You’re actually good at that. Anyway.” Arthur trailed to a halt and made a show of checking his watch. “Is that the time? I better go.”
Merlin stopped reading ‘A cure for alle ills.’ “But you only just got here! Anyway, I have a present for you too.”
Arthur looked nervous. “Is this going to be like the curse you sent before?”
Merlin slammed the book shut. “My curses are much better now, you know.”
“That’s not exactly what I—”
“Anyway,” said Merlin, firmly interrupting before Arthur could insult his magical skills any further. “I've got you a good present this year. I wasn’t sure how I was going to post it without poisoning anyone but now you’re here, you might as well have it.”
Arthur wasn’t exactly looking thrilled, but Merlin seized his arm and pulled him after him through the back door and into the porch where he had piled his Things To Post in an old box. He rummaged around for a moment, before presenting his find to Arthur with a flourish. “Merry Christmas!”
There was a long pause, then Arthur said, in what Merlin could only describe as a very strange tone of voice. “You’re giving me mistletoe?”
Merlin frowned down at the large bunch of mistletoe, wondering what was wrong with it. “Well yes.” He waved it at Arthur a little. “As soon as I saw it I thought of you.”
“Oh,” said Arthur, his face growing pink above his grey scarf. “I didn’t think you—”
“It wards off evil,” said Merlin. “You just have to set it on fire.”
“Oh,” said Arthur again, not quite so happily this time. He took the mistletoe and stared at it for a moment, like it had let him down in some deeply personal way.
Merlin decided to switch to plan B. “I got you a chocolate Santa as well.” He retrieved it from the box with a grin. “I already ate mine so I can highly recommend him.” Arthur took the chocolate Santa but didn’t exactly look overwhelmed by that either. Really, muggles were very difficult to please. Merlin was just about to switch the plan C (enchanted mince pies) when a horn sounded from the lane.
“That’ll be dad,” said Arthur, looking away than back to Merlin. “I have to go.”
He didn’t move though, just stood there staring at Merlin until Merlin began to worry that he’d accidentally welded his feet to the floor with magic. “Are you alright?” Merlin asked sympathetically. “You look a bit constipated.”
That at least got a reaction, even if it was a glare.
The horn sounded again.
“Ok, well bye then,” said Merlin, feeling oddly disappointed and a little perturbed by this new silent Arthur. “See you in July I guess.”
“Yes, same as usual.” Arthur paused for a moment longer then turned, walking determinedly out of the back door armed with his mistletoe and his chocolate santa and leaving Merlin alone in the porch with his magic book.
The house seemed more quiet than ever after the unexpected, and decidedly short, visit and Merlin dithered, fiddling rather gloomily with the few presents still sitting in the box and wondering if he should have told Arthur that mistletoe was good for fighting off demons as well. That was always a good thing to know, just in case someone, somewhere, had any Plans in that direction. A hypothetical someone, obviously.
Then again, Arthur had a terribly suspicious nature, so best not.
With that thought in mind, Merlin was about to head out again into the garden to continue his quest for the hoover when rapid footsteps sounded on the garden path, and moments later Arthur burst through the door, red faced and out of breath, mistletoe and santa in hand.
“I forgot something!”
Merlin looked around, confused. “Are you sure? I gave—”
But apparently Arthur didn’t want another sprig of mistletoe at all, or an enchanted mince pie (and everyone wanted those, even if they didn’t know it yet), he wanted to kiss Merlin. On the mouth! To say this was unexpected would be like saying the third floor of the house had suffered some minor cosmetic damage and the toaster had always looked that way.
Merlin didn’t quite know what to do, but his magic, or his Jedi skills, or whatever, seemed to have a life of their own and he found himself kissing Arthur back and thinking that actually, he could get pretty used to this sort of thing. It felt a bit like it did when he did a spell right, a bit like excitement, and maybe a little bit like the time he flew his broomstick into a tree. Also, he was totally taller. He could tell by the way he had to tilt his head, and it gave him such an immense feeling of satisfaction that he decided he should probably kiss Arthur more often, something he thought Arthur would agree with, given the way he was pressing Merlin into the door frame.
The prolonged sounding of the horn was an unwelcome intrusion, and Merlin briefly considered blowing it up, only he thought Arthur wouldn’t like it so he didn’t. But still, he couldn’t help but direct some Resentful Thoughts at it as Arthur pulled back, looking all ruffled and flustered and not at all constipated.
“I, uh, forgot that.” Arthur’s voice was a bit scratchy, which made Merlin's skin tingle all over.
He wondered what Dumbledore would do in this situation. Probably something brilliant and incisive. Unfortunately Merlin’s brain seemed to have melted and he had a horrible feeling his mouth was hanging open in a way that was completely unbecoming of the future Greatest Wizard Of The Age.
“Bye then,” Arthur said, with a smile that was just this side of smug (Merlin had learned to recognise these smiles) and then he ducked back out the door and was running back to the road where his father had either got the car horn stuck, or had expired from waiting and was leaning his corpse all over it.
Somewhere behind Merlin, a plate of enchanted mince pies exploded.
But for once, he didn’t even notice.
ANYWAY, I hope you like it, it got a little longer than I was expecting but I know you won't mind.
Tonight's fic is from Red Window Frames.
NADOLIG LLAWEN EVERYONE!!!
Although Merlin’s magic was pretty powerful, and his latent Jedi skills were impressive (whatever Arthur might say), his psychic visions still needed work. He could predict with startling accuracy just what his mother’s face would look like if she came home to find the sofa on the roof, or how many ducks would fit in an average family sized bathtub (like the one in Merlin’s bathroom, for example) but he was rubbish at predicting visitors.
His mother liked to tell him this was because he’d melted the doorbell and he never heard anyone knocking, but Merlin knew it was just another area of magical expertise he had yet to fully hone. He’d tried practising in the summer with Arthur, but apparently trying to guess what people were going to say before they said it was ‘annoying.’ Merlin was still sceptical, but he’d put his psychic training aside, if only to stop Arthur putting him in a headlock every time he tried it.
So really, it was entirely Arthur’s fault that he didn’t hear him knocking. That, and the fact that he was up a tree in the snow covered garden, scouring the horizon for the hoover which might, or might not, have gone wandering again.
“You’re early!” said Merlin indignantly, clambering down with a few judicious prods of magic and a broken tree branch. “I wasn’t expecting you until July.”
Arthur came to a halt at the foot of the tree, looking rather disconcerted. “I did phone you. Last week, don’t you remember?”
Merlin had a vague recollection of a telephone call, and an even vaguer recollection of someone saying something about a visit, but he’d been trying to dig a mince pie out of the kitchen door with a spatula so it was possible he hadn’t fully taken it in. “Are you sure?” he asked instead.
“Of course I’m sure,” said Arthur crossly, “You were saying something about a flying mince pie so I know I had the right number.”
Merlin decided to ignore that bit. “Well you’re here now anyway,” he said, determined to be magnanimous at this festive season. Then he thought of something. “You haven’t come to check up on my experiments, have you?”
Arthur just gave Merlin a look, which Merlin interpreted as a no. Then he coughed, and looked a bit embarrassed. “No, I’m only dropping by. I don’t have long, dad and Morgana are just picking up my aunt and then stopping for me on the way back but I just wanted to... Well...” He suddenly thrust a brightly wrapped parcel at Merlin.
“What’s that?”
“It’s a Christmas present.” The ‘idiot’ was silent, but even Merlin’s untrained psychic skills could pick it up.
“What does it do?” Merlin gave the parcel a prod.
There was an exasperated sigh before Arthur was shoving the parcel fully into Merlin’s hands, drawing back almost as quickly. “Just open it, it’s nothing weird. Well, not normal people weird.”
Merlin gave him one more narrow eyed glance before he set to tearing off the paper to reveal... “It’s a magic book!”
“I thought you might find it, you know, useful, or whatever.”
“It’s a real magic book.” Merlin said, wondering. He opened it and found list upon list of remedies and ancient spells and some really quite disturbing pictures which didn’t seem at all anatomically correct.
“Of course it’s real,” Arthur was saying. “Morgana found it online. It’s all earth magic and stuff, which I know you’re crap at but I thought you might learn something. Or you could just blow it up. You’re actually good at that. Anyway.” Arthur trailed to a halt and made a show of checking his watch. “Is that the time? I better go.”
Merlin stopped reading ‘A cure for alle ills.’ “But you only just got here! Anyway, I have a present for you too.”
Arthur looked nervous. “Is this going to be like the curse you sent before?”
Merlin slammed the book shut. “My curses are much better now, you know.”
“That’s not exactly what I—”
“Anyway,” said Merlin, firmly interrupting before Arthur could insult his magical skills any further. “I've got you a good present this year. I wasn’t sure how I was going to post it without poisoning anyone but now you’re here, you might as well have it.”
Arthur wasn’t exactly looking thrilled, but Merlin seized his arm and pulled him after him through the back door and into the porch where he had piled his Things To Post in an old box. He rummaged around for a moment, before presenting his find to Arthur with a flourish. “Merry Christmas!”
There was a long pause, then Arthur said, in what Merlin could only describe as a very strange tone of voice. “You’re giving me mistletoe?”
Merlin frowned down at the large bunch of mistletoe, wondering what was wrong with it. “Well yes.” He waved it at Arthur a little. “As soon as I saw it I thought of you.”
“Oh,” said Arthur, his face growing pink above his grey scarf. “I didn’t think you—”
“It wards off evil,” said Merlin. “You just have to set it on fire.”
“Oh,” said Arthur again, not quite so happily this time. He took the mistletoe and stared at it for a moment, like it had let him down in some deeply personal way.
Merlin decided to switch to plan B. “I got you a chocolate Santa as well.” He retrieved it from the box with a grin. “I already ate mine so I can highly recommend him.” Arthur took the chocolate Santa but didn’t exactly look overwhelmed by that either. Really, muggles were very difficult to please. Merlin was just about to switch the plan C (enchanted mince pies) when a horn sounded from the lane.
“That’ll be dad,” said Arthur, looking away than back to Merlin. “I have to go.”
He didn’t move though, just stood there staring at Merlin until Merlin began to worry that he’d accidentally welded his feet to the floor with magic. “Are you alright?” Merlin asked sympathetically. “You look a bit constipated.”
That at least got a reaction, even if it was a glare.
The horn sounded again.
“Ok, well bye then,” said Merlin, feeling oddly disappointed and a little perturbed by this new silent Arthur. “See you in July I guess.”
“Yes, same as usual.” Arthur paused for a moment longer then turned, walking determinedly out of the back door armed with his mistletoe and his chocolate santa and leaving Merlin alone in the porch with his magic book.
The house seemed more quiet than ever after the unexpected, and decidedly short, visit and Merlin dithered, fiddling rather gloomily with the few presents still sitting in the box and wondering if he should have told Arthur that mistletoe was good for fighting off demons as well. That was always a good thing to know, just in case someone, somewhere, had any Plans in that direction. A hypothetical someone, obviously.
Then again, Arthur had a terribly suspicious nature, so best not.
With that thought in mind, Merlin was about to head out again into the garden to continue his quest for the hoover when rapid footsteps sounded on the garden path, and moments later Arthur burst through the door, red faced and out of breath, mistletoe and santa in hand.
“I forgot something!”
Merlin looked around, confused. “Are you sure? I gave—”
But apparently Arthur didn’t want another sprig of mistletoe at all, or an enchanted mince pie (and everyone wanted those, even if they didn’t know it yet), he wanted to kiss Merlin. On the mouth! To say this was unexpected would be like saying the third floor of the house had suffered some minor cosmetic damage and the toaster had always looked that way.
Merlin didn’t quite know what to do, but his magic, or his Jedi skills, or whatever, seemed to have a life of their own and he found himself kissing Arthur back and thinking that actually, he could get pretty used to this sort of thing. It felt a bit like it did when he did a spell right, a bit like excitement, and maybe a little bit like the time he flew his broomstick into a tree. Also, he was totally taller. He could tell by the way he had to tilt his head, and it gave him such an immense feeling of satisfaction that he decided he should probably kiss Arthur more often, something he thought Arthur would agree with, given the way he was pressing Merlin into the door frame.
The prolonged sounding of the horn was an unwelcome intrusion, and Merlin briefly considered blowing it up, only he thought Arthur wouldn’t like it so he didn’t. But still, he couldn’t help but direct some Resentful Thoughts at it as Arthur pulled back, looking all ruffled and flustered and not at all constipated.
“I, uh, forgot that.” Arthur’s voice was a bit scratchy, which made Merlin's skin tingle all over.
He wondered what Dumbledore would do in this situation. Probably something brilliant and incisive. Unfortunately Merlin’s brain seemed to have melted and he had a horrible feeling his mouth was hanging open in a way that was completely unbecoming of the future Greatest Wizard Of The Age.
“Bye then,” Arthur said, with a smile that was just this side of smug (Merlin had learned to recognise these smiles) and then he ducked back out the door and was running back to the road where his father had either got the car horn stuck, or had expired from waiting and was leaning his corpse all over it.
Somewhere behind Merlin, a plate of enchanted mince pies exploded.
But for once, he didn’t even notice.
