Archive of Our Own

Prior to the Cold War and more commonly during, it wasn't unheard of for countries to very quietly research some of the less traditional avenues of combat. Beyond human abilities, the supernatural, call it what you will. They all had at least one program dedicated to the research, as laughable as it is to even think about these days.

After the thaw of political climates, they were all swept under the rug, an embarrassment to those who once sponsored them. Though, every new war, every time some new and terrifying weapon cropped up on the battlefield, there was always a turn back to the possibilities of the old programs. Perhaps this time they could find something concrete. This time there would be another agent or scientist willing to wager their career on a pipe-dream.

The hope was enough that, at the first success, it was jumped on by MI-6 to see just where they could take this. That success rested on the talents of a young man recruited into the agency fresh out of secondary school after one of the heads of the newest project--Dragon's Fire--saw a certain potential in the aptitude tests necessary for this sort of thing.

As it turned out, he was the first true natural they'd managed to find since the research began and was now the base on which the entire program was founded. Once they found what to look for, based off him, it was easier and easier to find people who had unusual abilities that could be useful serving Queen and country.

All of that success rested on the shoulders of one man.

His name: Merlin Emrys.

--

The shrill ring of a mobile phone was the only noise in the cramped little flat, a barely lived-in place with all the feeling of a cave.

Rubbing sleep out of her eyes, Nimueh groped blindly for the blasted thing, flipping it open to press to her ear. "This had better be important."

A glance at the alarm clock revealed the time to be a quarter past three in the morning. Only two hours after she fell asleep.

"It's Emrys, ma'am," came the obedient voice on the other end. "He's resurfaced."

At that, she sat up fully, more awake and alert. "Where?"

There was a faint rustling of papers on the other end before, "The Hague. His prints just came up on Interpol, ma'am. He assaulted two police officers and then fled."

Nimueh inhaled sharply, swinging her feet out of the bed to dress. "Has he made contact?"

"No, ma'am."

First he failed a mission and now he was running from them. Bloody perfect. They poured so much time and money into training him to use his abilities and now he was playing hide and seek.

"I want every agent we have available to work this," Nimueh said, tugging on a suit jacket. "The security footage nearby needs to be reviewed, someone get on the bank... everything. Is that understood?"

"Yes, ma'am." Didn't even hesitate. Good man.

"I'll be there shortly." She smiled like a shark with blood in the water as she snapped the phone shut.

It had been two weeks since Emrys' disappearing act. Two weeks of damage control and waiting for him to check in, if he was even still alive. Now all she needed to do was bring him in to find out what happened or, in the worst case scenario, liquidate him if he proved too unstable.

--

"Are you deaf?" Arthur asked with a manic sort of grin plastered on his face, lest he do something rash like leap across the counter and throttle the hapless embassy clerk. "Or simply too stupid to function?"

His hands remained splayed out on the counter, either to keep the large amount of papers there in place or keep him ready to hurdle over it. Should the need arise. Soon.

"I'm sorry sir, I really am, but there's nothing I can do to help you," the embassy clerk replied, offering Arthur a truly sympathetic smile. "You'll need to return to England to sort this out."

It was one of the pleasures of having a father in high places. When Uther argued with his son, revoking Arthur's passport and freezing his bank account was a simple end game to get his way.

Arthur, who had spent birth through university being the good, obedient son, had taken off as soon as the ink dried on his diploma for the continent in order to try something so cliché as finding himself out there. Only silly little artists and people who didn't have a future did this sort of thing, his father had said over the phone upon finding out of Arthur's plans.

And it was always over the phone, mind. His father was far too busy a man to deal with the minute details of parenting. Such as speaking to your children more than once a week.

Morgana had gleefully claimed that this was repressed rebellious instinct, exploding now that he could no long bear it. Then again, she had done everything in her power to upset their father growing up, so it was no wonder she approved. Some days, he wished he could have been more like her back then. Less desperate for the approval of a man that would never give it.

So, he ran. Grew a rather nice beard, if he did say so himself. Fraternized with the lower class and did almost anything he knew that would upset his father.

Which lead to his predicament here. One last screaming match over the phone as to whether or not Arthur would be returning home and taking the job that had been so meticulously chosen for him in order to start a career in politics and follow in daddy dearest's footsteps in Parliament and the next day, he couldn't access any money and, upon trying to buy a train ticket, found out his passport was no longer any good.

Uther Pendragon was a special sort of asshole when it came to his family.

Arthur pushed the papers beneath his hands toward the clerk again. "Then your manager, I don't care. Just get me someone who can deal with this," he said through a clenched jaw. Frustrated was too light a word for this.

"Sir." The clerk looked about as frazzled as Arthur felt. Which was all well and good for him, but it didn't help a damn thing. "There's nothing we can do here. I truly am sorry," he said again, pushing the papers back firmly, but gently.

"What good is an embassy if you can't do anything to help me?" Arthur asked harshly, staring down at the papers that were, for all intents and purposes, his life. But he did take a step back, papers in hand, to allow the next person in the queue to come forward.

The clerk didn't seem to have an answer beyond a grateful look at no longer having to deal with the angry, blond man.

Right then. This was all a load of shit. He'd find another way to get his damned passport back.

There was no way in hell he'd grant his father the satisfaction of winning this one. He wasn't going to go crawling back to the man for money or help. Not after this move.

Shoving the papers into his satchel carelessly, Arthur turned away to make his way back to the exit so he could regroup. There had to be a way around all this. He just hadn't quite found it yet.

His calm, dignified exit would have gone off without a hitch had it not been for some gawping idiot, standing in the middle of the open room, looking around like a bloody tourist. The papers he'd been trying to put away fluttered down to the ground upon impacting the man who somehow had the gall to look confused as to what just happened.

And there went Arthur's already frayed fuse.

"Idiot!" he snapped, shoving the man back with only enough force to cause him to rock back on his heels. There was a savage and thoroughly juvenile thrill in venting his frustrations out on him.

The man tensed, hands moving up to Arthur's wrist before he seemed to force them back down to his sides as he crouched to try and retrieve the papers. "Sorry," he mumbled, avoiding Arthur's gaze.

"Are you blind?" Arthur asked, holding fast to the flare of anger. It was a sure sight better than allowing the near soul-crushing resignation to his situation at the moment. "I know you can't be deaf with ears like that."

The man's head shot up, blank faced, but giving Arthur a better view of those elephantine ears he was sporting. He looked like the average university student traveling abroad. They all tended to blur into the same characteristics, in Arthur's experience. Too scrawny from poor eating, ill-fitting clothing, looking rather strongly like some poor, lost baby animal...

With cheekbones that Arthur steadfastly ignored for his own sanity. It wasn't that he wasn't interested in men--that had been the second major rebellion against his father's expectations--but he couldn't rightly think of the man as anything more than some nameless verbal punching bag. Not without feeling guilty.

"Do you speak English?" Arthur asked, slow and condescending as possible.

For the first time in their interaction--conversation was too optimistic of a word--the man showed actual emotion beyond a blank confusion. It almost cheered Arthur to watch him thaw from whatever stupor he'd been in. Almost.

"Yes, I do," the man replied tartly. "And I also apologized. Or are you deaf?"

"Oh, clever. Did it take you all that time to think that up?" Arthur asked haughtily. It was special level of patronizing that only someone born into Arthur's station could manage as well. It helped that he was also a Pendragon. They took pride to a new level.

Pushing himself up onto his feet, papers in hand, the man looked him in the eye. He wasn't nearly impressed enough by Arthur, it seemed. "No, I was in far too much awe about what an egotistical prat you are."

"Better," Arthur granted him, hand held out for the papers. "For someone of such limited intellect, that is. Next you'll be tugging on pigtails and running off like a schoolboy."

That earned him an amused eye-roll and the first hint of a smile. Arthur in no way should have felt so stupidly proud of garnering such a reaction from an absolute stranger.

"If that is all, your highness," the man said, the corner of his mouth turning up in a crooked grin that suited him surprisingly well.

He had remarkably blue eyes, Arthur noticed for the first time.

Shaking himself out of this bizarre staring, Arthur shoved the papers back into his satchel. He shut it securely this time, though. "That will be all," Arthur said with a magnanimous wave of his hand. "Try to pay attention to something outside that no doubt empty head of yours next time."

The amusement on the man's face disappeared almost immediately, returning to that odd blankness that made him appear much younger and older at the same time. "I'll keep that in mind," he said with a faint, forced smile.

"See that you do," Arthur replied, forced to look away from the eerie calm. And, because he did not do awkward, he nodded and stepped around the man for the exit.

The man stayed where he was, perhaps too dim to follow the basic social mores of personal space to step back. Instead, he just turned his head, watching Arthur as he went. "Good luck with--" He waved vaguely at the satchel. "--everything."

Which was kind and more than just a bit awkward of him to draw attention to right now. Arthur shot him a look that strongly implied he was concerned for the man's intelligence. Or lack thereof.

"Right. Bye then," he replied, rushing away before he did something rash. Like ask for the man's mobile number.

--

Watching the blond man with that patchy thing that might have been facial hair go, Merlin fought back the urge to call after him and cling rather pathetically to this first moment he felt almost normal in the past two weeks. Since he woke up without a damned clue as to what was going on.

He'd followed the only thing he had about his past to a bank in The Hague and somehow managed to only find even more questions there. The account had turned out to be a safe deposit box that was, presumably, his. It contained a passport with what might have been his name--Merlin Emrys--and a secret compartment.

Thousands of pound notes, even more passports and, perhaps the most disturbing, a loaded gun. After his encounter with Dutch police the evening before, he'd left that behind. He certain didn't want to think about why he might have had that in there.

Who was he? A criminal? Some sort of wealthy madman?

Idly looking around the room, he find himself moving without thinking about it. Into the blind-spots of the security cameras that were littered about the place. He'd already noted the number of guards and what he'd somehow identified as Ministry of Defense agents and how well armed they were. Two with guns and seven with batons, if he wasn't mistaken.

It spooked him that he seemed to do this without a thought or obvious reason why. That he looked at how many exits there were in a room and where would be the best place for an ambush.

As he moved, he became vaguely aware of the guards moving as well. Chatter over the radio, it seemed.

Shit.

He clutched the strap of his backpack tightly, ducking into a crowd of people to break for the exit before they could find him.

"Stop there!"

The room went quiet and still, everyone including Merlin pausing to see what they were after.

Two guards and one of the agents made for the crowd Merlin was hiding in, one pulling out a pair of handcuffs. "Red backpack. I need you to come with me," the agent said as the crowd parted around Merlin like a frightened school of fish.

This was truly the beginning of a good day.

"Slowly put the bag down on the ground and place your hands on your head," the agent continued, coming up behind him as the other two guards approached from the front to cut off any attempts at pulling a runner. Like there was any exit not manned at this point.

Merlin sighed, dropping the bag as instructed and silently placing his hands on the back of his head, lacing the fingers together. He tried to ignore how he was automatically tensing up for a fight, remaining eerily still and calm as the agent came up behind him and slapped the cuffs on one wrist.

For a moment, everything seemed to freeze. No noise, no movement, nothing but Merlin and this... swell of something. Whatever it was, it flared up in his chest and he could feel as the hinges on the cuffs failed and broke and the metal shattered like glass upon touching his skin.

It all started back up again in a rush as he grabbed the agent's wrist, pulling the man's arm over his shoulder until he felt the elbow brush against it. Then, he pulled down, using the leverage to make up for his lack of brute strength. There was a sickening crack as the joint gave way and the man screamed in pain before Merlin dropped his hold on the arm to twist in place, elbowing him in the throat. The agent dropped to his knees immediately, clutching his neck with his good hand as he tried not to choke.

The crowd of people around them were panicking now, trying to move away from the fight and preventing more guards from joining in to help as they were trapped by the stampede.

The nearest guard drew his baton and came at Merlin with a wild swing at his head, not giving him a moment's rest.

Leaning back, Merlin just barely avoided the strike. He pushed the man's arm the rest of the way through the motion, forcing it against his chest while he hit him just under the chin with the heel of his hand. While the guard was still dazed, Merlin darted around his side to wrench the baton out of his grip.

The other guard seemed to have a bit more control in his attack, taking the time to wait for Merlin to be busy with this other man before swinging at the back of his head.

Merlin turned his attention away from the now disarmed man, bringing up his baton to block. He winced just a bit at the force it took to keep from being knocked out. He shoved back with his like a sword, focusing on the other man's weapon until that thing flared up again and--it glowed like it had been put into a fire.

Right. Um. That was new then.

He'd deal with that later.

As the man shrieked in pain and dropped his baton, the glow disappeared just as quickly as it had come about. The man's hands were turning a vivid red as blisters formed wherever he had touched the baton.

Merlin took it as his opportunity to hit him on the side of the head, hard enough to put him down for the count. Then, in one fluid movement, turned back to the other guard and slid down to kneel with ease as he brought the baton down on the side of the man's knee, causing him to fall backwards as the joint gave way.

Behind him, he heard a click over the screams of the crowd. An awareness that was perhaps something to do with that strange something in him or just being far too aware of what the noise was. Not moving from his spot, Merlin turned to see the agent, pointing his gun at him, other arm hanging limp at his side.

Standing up, Merlin altered his grip on the baton, waiting only a moment as the stand off drew on before throwing it at him. He took the opportunity that distraction granted to slam the man's good arm down on the hard floor until he dropped his hold on the gun.

He really didn't have much time now.

Time for what?

Merlin shook his head, trying to clear his thoughts as he grabbed for the gun, training it on the downed men first before bringing it up to aim at anyone else coming in close.

Right then. Far past time to get out of there.

Merlin crouched down, snagging the strap of his backpack, gun still trained on the guards holding back by the exit. A quick glance around didn't exactly prove promising for the sort of escape where he didn't end up in handcuffs or a bodybag, until he caught sight of a stairway up into the building marked for employees only.

Merlin gave the guards a vaguely apologetic look before firing two shots up at the ceiling. Anyone who hadn't fled during the first bit of the fight was now having to deal with even more of a panic and rush to evacuate.

Amidst the chaos, Merlin broke for the stairs, running up them before anyone could see where he'd gone to.

And ran straight into another MoD agent, probably on his way down to subdue Merlin. Either this one was quicker on the uptake or he'd been warned over his radio about Merlin had just done, but he was quick to grab Merlin's bag as a handle to swing the smaller man around and face first against the wall. He placed his other hand on the back of Merlin's neck to keep him firmly pinned in place. "Don't you move," he hissed, keeping true to the cliche cop.

So, of course Merlin was forced to twist in place, bringing his elbow back to catch the man in the face hard enough to break his nose.

The agent stumbled back a step, dazed and struggling to breathe as the blood dripped. "You little shi--"

Using the momentum of turning around fully to face the man, Merlin swung his elbow again, catching the agent's temple this time. Not all that much force was necessary to knock a man out.

If you knew exactly where to hit, that is.

Merlin crouched down next to the prone man, reaching into his jacket to retrieve the radio therein. A quick tug pulled the earpiece free as well and he was on the move once again, up the rest of the stairs to the second floor.

Putting the earpiece in place, Merlin glanced up and down the hallways on the lookout for more guards. Just scurrying office workers, fleeing for any place with a lock so they could hide while Merlin was dealt with.

He took a breath and headed down one of the halls, careful not to draw too much attention to himself. As though that would help.

"Subject is on the second floor," a voice over the radio said. "Repeat, second floor."

Yes, it was now a bad place to be if he would care to not have more bullet holes in his back.

Merlin sprinted down the rest of the way, stopping at a door that claimed to be only in case of emergency. He closed his hand over the push bar, concentrating on something he couldn't even name until there was a faint click. Glancing back over his shoulder, he pushed the door open and grinned as no alarm sounded.

It was strange, but it was damn handy.

Hell, he might even have a chance to escape unscathed. Score one for him for a change!

---

In the past ten minutes, Arthur's day had gone from shit, to almost bearable and then right on back to shit again. His car, which had been legally parked if it was on the other side of the street, had a stark white slip of paper pinned beneath the wipers on his windshield. Which was forty-five Euros to correct.

Forty-five Euros that he no longer had access to thanks to his father.

"You stupid son of a bitch," he snapped, kicking the tire of the car. A bit of dirty ice fell off the bumper in response, but it was nowhere near as satisfying as he'd hoped.

Snatching up the ticket, Arthur crumbled it up to shove in his pocket when--

"Hello?"

--he fumbled for no good reason at all, turning around quickly to see that idiot from inside the embassy. His cheeks were all rosy as though he'd been running to catch up with Arthur. Which was a bit sweet, and a bit stalkerish. At this point, he was going to go with stalkerish. It was one of those days.

"Are you mental?" he asked, looking him up and down again as if to make sure he didn't have a machete or severed head in his possession.

The man had the good grace to at least look sheepish, glancing away and fiddling with the strap of his bag rather than look Arthur in the eye. "Sorry. Um, again."

Arthur shot him another look, rolling his eyes as he turned back to the car. "I think I'm a bit, shall we say, out of your league," he said, digging the keys out of his pocket.

"What?" The man sounded more confused than embarrassed. So he really was an idiot on top of being a stalker. Good to know. "I'm not trying to pick you up," he said quickly, scampering around to get Arthur's attention.

Arthur just hummed as though he believed that as much as he believed the queen to be one wild partier. Jabbing his key into the door lock, he twisted for that satisfying click. "Look, this has been fun. Really. But I have places to be."

Like... the chip shop down the way. Spending the last of his cash recklessly on fried potatoes.

"I need a ride," the man blurted out, ducking back nervously as Arthur turned to look at him again.

"There's a train station down the way. I'm sure they can help you," Arthur replied dryly.

But the man was already digging into his backpack. "I can pay," he said, pulling out a thick stack of yellow notes. "Ten thousand Euros to go to Paris."

Arthur stared at the money and then back up at the man's face. He was looking past Arthur, blank for a moment at the sound of sirens passing before going back to that nervous twitching from before. "Ten thousand. For a car ride. Did you rob a bank or something?"

"Another ten when we get there," he said, adam's apple bobbing up and down nervously.

The money found its way, thrust into Arthur's face, so he was forced to grab it or suffer expensive papercuts. Running his fingers up the edge revealed hundreds or fresh, clean fifty notes. More than enough to show his father that he could survive whatever the man threw at him. "How do I know you're not some rich, loony serial killer?" Arthur asked, almost petting the money now. "And furthermore, how do you know I won't just clock you over the head and run off with the money?"

The man simply gave him a gormless little shrug. "I'm almost certain I'm not a serial killer, if that helps."

"...almost certain," Arthur repeated. Then sighed and shook his head, pocketing the money before he could do something silly like think logically about this. It helped that the man looked as though a strong enough breeze would knock him out.

"Right."

Opening the door, Arthur got into the car, settling in the driver's seat before leaning to the left to unlock the other door. "Get in already," he snapped, showcasing his charming personality.

The brief, but blinding smile on the man's face did odd things to Arthur's stomach. Things he firmly ignored as he started up the car.

"I'm Merlin, by the way," the man said, buckling up as soon as he was inside.

He gave Arthur this expectant little look until he was forced to sigh and say, "Arthur. Now, if you're going to insist on talking the whole bloody trip, I'm booting you now."

Merlin mimed zipping his lips shut, pulling his backpack into his lap like it would protect him from Arthur's wrath. The moment of blissful silence only lasted a moment as Arthur focused on watching traffic for his chance to pull put on the street.

"Thank you."

Arthur held up a finger to shush him, not taking his eyes off the road. "What did I say?"

"...am I supposed to actually answer that or stay quiet?" Merlin asked slowly, proving his idiocy once more.

This was going to be a long trip.

---

The drive had actually been considerably less awkward than Merlin expected. Possibly because the combination of silence, the gentle vibrations of the moving car and a severe lack of restful sleep caused him to pass out only about fifteen minutes into it. Arthur had been relieved by that, no doubt.

It wasn't until he was startled awake by a firm shove against his shoulder that Merlin remembered where he was. After grabbing Arthur's wrist, of course. He dropped it like he'd been burned once his mind caught up with his body, pressing himself against the door and further from the other man as thoughts of how to break those fragile little bones flitted through his mind.

"Where are we?" Merlin asked, voice rough with sleep.

Arthur looked down at his own wrist, frowning as if to figure out what the hell just happened there. "The border. I thought we should stop for food before you blow away like a twig."

He was being insulting, so at least he wasn't as spooked as Merlin by all that. That was good. Right?

Merlin smiled vaguely, hoping he didn't look like some sort of ax-wielding murderer. He clutched his bag tightly, nodding in agreement with the whole food, er, thing.

"Are you going to sit there all night then?" Arthur asked, being very clear that the 'you daft little man' was unspoken simply by virtue of proper breeding.

"Oh!" Merlin fumbled first with the bag and then with his seatbelt. For someone capable of trouncing several armed men, this seemed to give him far too much trouble.

Once he was out of the car and avoiding Arthur's supremely amused and altogether smug look, he could see where they were. A nondescript little restaurant with only a few other cars in the parking lot. There were probably dozens of the exact same thing dotting along the border. Each identical, bland and perfectly family friendly for roadtrips.

A good place to not be noticed, at least.

"Will you stop gawking?" Arthur asked, breaking him out of his thoughts. "It's like you've never seen food before."

He was already walking away from the car to go inside, leaving Merlin behind with an odd sort of gnawing in his gut. Something just wasn't right about the lot. It felt like a trap waiting to be sprung.

But, with one last glance around, he rushed on in after Arthur. Who, it seemed, had already claimed a table with a plate piled high with frikandel and was going back for more food. Such class, the man he picked as his driver.

With another glance around the room to count the exits and people here, he clutched his backpack tighter. He knew that couldn't exactly be normal, even if he didn't know much else.

Lest he once again be left behind, he grabbed a plate of noodles and a small bowl of soup before joining Arthur again.

Arthur gave one glance to his choices and, "Dear god, you really are a waif."

In between shoveling sausages and chips in his mouth, of course.

Merlin gave him an annoyed look, trying to relax and eat as quickly as possible so they could leave. Arthur had taken the seat most suited to keeping an eye on the room and it was putting Merlin on edge to have his back to things.

"Not everyone is a human vacuum, you know," Merlin said peevishly.

Arthur rolled his eyes, shoving the plate of sausages to the center of the table. "Will you relax? You're making me nervous. I'm not going to rob you, alright?"

Both the oddly kind gesture and words got Merlin to blink and stare at him. "I'm not worried about that."

"Sure," Arthur replied with a condescending little snort. "I could tell."

"I'm not!" Merlin insisted, glancing back over his shoulder as someone new entered the restaurant.

"Will you stop that?" Arthur asked with a sigh.

Merlin bit his bottom lip, twisting in his seat to find a better position. "Look -- can we switch spots?" he asked, giving up on that working.

Arthur stared at him as though he'd just grown a second head that only spoken Latin. "Switch spots?"

"I'd just feel a lot more comfortable if we could, um--" He moved his hands back and forth between them as if to demonstrate. "--switch?"

The staring only continued until Merlin was forced to break out the big guns and add a pathetic look to the mix. Arthur sighed again, rolling his eyes as he shuffled to the side so Merlin could take his spot. "Now will you stop being such a girl about it?" he asked, also switching their plates as he took Merlin's seat.

"I'm not--" Merlin took a deep breath. It wasn't an argument that needed to happen. "Thank you."

That seemed to mollify Arthur again, returning them to a nearly companionable silence. That was until Arthur just had to ask, "So, where are you from then?"

Merlin looked up at him before returning his gaze downward. "I -- don't know."

He didn't even need to look up to know that second head growing stare was back. "...you don't know. Tell me, Merlin, how did you accomplish that feat? Too much time in Amsterdam?"

Merlin kept his eyes on his bowl of soup, shrugging vaguely. "I just -- don't know."

Arthur snorted, edging closer to uncomfortable than amused as Merlin didn't react to his taunt. "Is this a joke? Or some silly attempt at being mysterious?"

Sighing, Merlin finally looked up to meet Arthur's eyes. "I can't remember anything about myself past two weeks ago," he said evenly. "I woke up on a fishing boat with three bullets in my back, the number to a bank account implanted in my hip and no clue who I was."

Arthur stared back at him, mouth dropping open a bit and not a single witty little response forthcoming. It felt good to be able to tell someone this. Like he wasn't quite so alone anymore.

"I--" He looked around to make sure no one was in eavesdropping distance. "I -- think I may be a spy."

There. He'd finally said it aloud.

It wasn't until the first snicker that he realized how utterly ridiculous it all sounded. Arthur was bent over the table, crushing his chips in a vain attempt to keep quiet. "Oh god, you almost had me until that nonsense about being a spy."

"I--" Oh god, he really did sound like an utter loony, didn't he? "Ha," he said, looking away quickly. "I'm quite the kidder."

"Look, if you don't want to talk about where you're from, that's fine," Arthur replied, brushing a crushed chip off his shirt.

Merlin just nodded. "Right."

"Right," Arthur agreed cheerfully as that silence descended again.

The sooner they got to Paris, the better.

---

Anywhere else, it might have been snowing when they left the restaurant. But, instead, it just looked like a darker sort of dreary. Greys merged into darker shades outside the the lights of the parking lot and breath hung on the air.

Arthur inhaled the fresh air, ignoring the sting of cold. "Come on then, Mr. Spy. Before we're attacked by your Soviet counterpart," he said, not having to even look back at Merlin to know how red the other man must be. Probably all the way up his neck and spread out to his ears.

"Ha ha," Merlin replied sulkily, still lurking behind Arthur.

Heading for the car, Arthur felt just a bit too much pride in the teasing. It had been a while since he'd actually talked to anyone other than over the phone. And Morgana hardly counted. She wasn't even people.

Merlin bumped against his shoulder in an attempt to keep up, causing Arthur to give him a bit of a sideways glance. He really did look nervous. "Oh, don't be such a baby about this. I promise I won't let anyone jump out of the shadows and rob you, Merlin."

"You're an ass," Merlin said, relaxing just a bit, though. He even managed a bit of a smile.

It didn't do anything to Arthur's chest. Not in the slightest.

Darting ahead of Merlin, he moved around to the passenger side door, pulling it open like he would for a woman. "After you..."

The smile grew for just a moment as Merlin closed the distance between them. Then, before he could get in, it disappeared all together and Arthur found himself unceremoniously yanked forward and then shoved onto the seat before Merlin slammed the door shut.

"What the hell is wrong with--" The rest of the question was cut short as the glass of the window cracked, showering the inside of the car with fine little pieces. Whatever had caused the damage was obscured by the fine web of lines in the class. Only two blurry figures were visible. One, presumably, being that scrawny little git who pushed him in there.

Was he completely bonkers?

Scrambling backwards on his elbows, Arthur shoved open the driver's side door and flopped down onto the concrete. He winced at the suddenness of the drop and scooting back onto the damp--well, grass was too kind a word for it. Vegetated mud might be better. There was a quiet hissing to his left, like someone was letting air out of one of the tires.

He turned to find, not a flat tire, but some sort of massive green snake reared up. Fangs. Big bloody fangs was all that managed to register at that moment. Groping backwards for anything to defend himself, he closed his hand around something smooth and metal. Perfect.

Not a hesitation before he whipped his new-found weapon around and smashed the snake against the side of his car before it could lurch forward for a strike. The dent he could live with right about now. It was loads better than being a pretty little corpse.

The snake hit the ground, writhing in an attempt to get its bearings. Yeah, as though Arthur was going to sit there and wait. He slammed the metal disc down again on it. And again. Over and over until the moving stopped and there was a nasty red smear on the ground where it had been. Take that, you little bastard.

He was drawn out of his little victory by the sound of whoever that twit who hit his car was. He assumed. It certainly didn't sound like Merlin. "--really don't remember, do you?"

Hauling himself to his feet, Arthur clutched his--it appeared to be a hubcap--tightly, moving around the car as silently as possible. If Merlin could just keep the man distracted long enough, he could knock him out before anyone really got hurt.

"Who are you?" Merlin asked, not so much tense anymore. It was at odds with anything Arthur would expect for someone dealing with a complete madman wielding a... dear god, was that a sword?

He couldn't see the other man's face, but the little chuckle made him assume there was probably some sort of smug little smirk there. "This will be easy."

The man swung wildly at Merlin's head, causing something horrible to clench up in Arthur's stomach as he rushed forward before it was too late to stop him. But Merlin was already ducking down like the move had been choreographed. He waited until the swing had been completed and the man's bicep was flush with his chest and then pushed forward into the man's guard, stabbing something into the man's wrist to force him to drop his weapon.

Before the man could recover, or Arthur could reach them, Merlin had yanked his own weapon out and planted it in the man's ribs, leaving it there as he danced backwards. Calm as a fucking cucumber.

"You little freak!" the man shrieked, good hand on his side to pull out what a quick glance at Arthur's car confirmed to be his damned radio antenna. "You're going to pay for that."

Right. Enough of this waiting about nonsense.

Arthur got a good grip on the hubcap with both hands, moving up behind the man. "Oi!" And when he turned toward the noise, hammered him with it as hard as he could.

He stumbled backward, blood rushing down from his nose in a flood of vivid red. Baring his teeth like some kind of feral animal, he reached for the hubcap and started forward at Arthur.

Eyes widening, Arthur hauled back to nail him again before that could happen. He started and stopped when a sword was thrust in his direction. Any detail beyond a massive, bloody knife wasn't quite registering with Arthur at the moment, thank you.

Their mystery man seemed to be in the same boat as he stared down at the blade where it emerged through his stomach, making an odd sort of choking noise that Arthur had thought only happened in the movies. "Still have the stones then?" he croaked.

Merlin and his ridiculous ear were just barely visible over the man's shoulder, looking far too calm for having just shoved a sword into someone. "I missed anything vital," he informed the man.

The blade twitched and red bloomed around it through the man's shirt as he hissed in pain. Arthur was very suddenly reminded of his dinner and how much it wanted to exit his body at the moment.

"Who are you? Who sent you?" Merlin asked.

The man laughed before there was another stomach-turning twitch and he grimaced in pain. "Your employers."

Dear god, everything Merlin had said in the restaurant had been true?

Before Arthur was allowed to wrap his brain around that latest bit of insanity, something beneath the man's shirt moved and shifted the fabric about. It slithered its way up his torso until a snake's head--twin to the one that Arthur had left a bloody smear on the pavement--popped up at the neckline, just where Merlin's head was.

It hissed, forcing Merlin to jerk back and Arthur to tighten his grip on the hubcap.

Right then. He could handle this.

The snake hissed again, turning on the man instead, jaw widening impossibly before latching onto his throat. He gasped, trying to suck in more air as whatever the bite did knocked it right out of his lungs. But, as suddenly as the creature had appeared, it was gone. Only the bite mark and rapidly spreading black veins around the mark let them know it had really ever been there in the first place.

He collapsed to the ground, seizing violently and involuntarily if the curl into the blade was anything to go by. In only a minute it was over and he'd gone still on the ground.

It was all... a bit anti-climactic, the still dubious part of Arthur's brain supplied, clinging to reason and common sense on the matter.

"He's dead," Arthur heard himself say rather than ask. There was a clang of metal and he realized that he'd dropped the hubcap sometime during all this. Strange how he didn't notice doing that.

Merlin had either not heard him or was simply ignoring whatever he had to say on the matter as he suddenly crouched down to rifle through the man's (corpse's) pockets.

"What the hell are you doing?" Arthur asked in a tone he'd deny was hysterical to his dying day.

Glancing up, Merlin produced what appeared to be a set of car keys from one of the pockets, having no problem getting handsy with a dead man. "We--we need to get out of here. Now," he said, tone fluctuating between that eerie calm from the fight and the nervous twitchiness that Arthur thought suited him better.

Arthur gave him a look like he'd gone completely mad sometime in the last five minutes. Because clearly there was no other explanation for all this.

"Please, Arthur?" he seemed to beg, now pulling out a gun from somewhere in the man's coat.

"Jesus!" Arthur wheeled back, catching his heel on a crack in the pavement and tumbling on backwards onto his ass in the time it took Merlin to dismantle the weapon and leave the pieces scattered over the man (body). "What."

It was a good word to be stuck on if you asked Arthur. Nice and belligerent. It held all the right amount of anger and only a tiny bit of fear. At least, that's what he told himself.

Merlin gave him a concerned look, hauling himself up onto his feet. "You're in shock," he said quietly, closing the distance between them to offer Arthur a red smeared hand back up onto his feet.

"I'm in shock?" Arthur asked, holding onto that sudden anger like a lifeline as he ignored Merlin's hand and got up on his own. A bit of hysterical laughter was building up in the back of his throat at the sight of the blood there. "Why the hell aren't you?"

It got Merlin to look away very quickly, bringing his hand back in against his own chest. "I don't know," he said, just as quiet as before. "I--don't want to know. Grab what you need from the car, alright? We need to move now."

Arthur skirted around him, moving toward his car. "We? We nothing. I'm getting the hell out of here," he said, yanking the door open and ignoring the bits of glass all over the inside as he sat down.

"Arthur!" Merlin moved to the still open passenger door, peering in at him. "If they found me here, they found you too. I--you're not safe alone, alright? I'll give you the rest of the money and get you somewhere safe tonight, but we have to move now. We can't take this car."

That anger flared up again and he turned over toward the scrawny little bastard. "They. You mean your employers, right? That's who he said they were, right?"

"I--" He looked nothing like some sort of emotionless killer now. There was look of helplessness that twinged something in Arthur's chest. This was all the moron's fault to begin with. He shouldn't feel guilty about leaving him now. "--please, Arthur."

Arthur rubbed his forehead for a moment before turning around to grab his bag from the backseat. Everything he owned was in this damn car. Everything. "Fine."

It wasn't a surrender. It was him making sure the little tit didn't end up dead during the night.

---

The knock on her office door wasn't enough to interrupt her work, not when there was no surprise as to who it was.

"Yes, Tristian?" she asked, making a note on the file she was reading over.

"Valiant's down." Never one for pleasantries, her assistant.

The pen stilled and she pursed her lips, but gave no reaction beyond that. "And Emrys?"

He moved further into the office, pulling photos from the folder in his hand and placing them on her desk. "Gone. Along with Pendragon. I have Sophia working on securing the body and taking care of the local police."

This was going to become quite the incident if it wasn't taken care of quickly. A Parliament member's son. Could their luck have been any worse with that?

She looked over the files critically, noting that, once again, the gun had been stripped and left behind without a shot being fired. There had to be a meaning behind that. There weren't such things as coincidences when that boy was involved. Too well trained for mistakes, she'd seen to that.

He'd always been special. Unique among all the agents in her program. With him, it hadn't been power that was the problem. It had been teaching him the will to use it for Queen and country. After that, he was a model agent.

Well, until now, of course. Now he was a problem to be eliminated.

"Who do we have in the area?" Nimueh asked, putting the photos back down.

He didn't even need to think before answering. "We have an agent in Brussels and one in Cologne."

Nodding, she handed the photos back over to him. "Give them a go."

---

The more Merlin learned about who he'd been before, the more he really wished he'd stayed in the dark. He might not have been the one to kill the man who'd attacked them, but there was no doubt in his mind that he would have. If it had come down to that.

Whoever he really was before the amnesia was Not A Good Person. Good people did not think to wipe down a crime scene in order to destroy fingerprints. Nor did they think to swap out the license plate from their attacker's car with some poor sod's in order to put off being followed by whoever sent him.

Instead of continuing on toward France, they'd turned around away from the border to go back into The Netherlands. Arthur had been painfully silent since they'd gotten into the car. Like he wasn't all there or, god forbid, afraid of Merlin. Which was the last thing he wanted right now. Arthur was the only person he knew at this point.

Merlin had spent the trip watching him out of the corner of his eye, trying and failing to focus on the road. "I--we can stop near a police station. Tell them you were kidnapped, maybe?"

It did the job of pulling Arthur's attention away from the window and over on Merlin, at least. His blank expression changed over to annoyance in record time before he shook he head and looked away. "I thought I told you to shut up in the car."

The nerves that had been gathering in the pit of Merlin's stomach dissipated a bit and he nodded then. "Right."

"Merlin."

And that had effectively ended any talk of Arthur leaving.

Which left them in a dingy little hotel room--paid for in cash, using one of the many passports Merlin had to keep any pursuers off their trail. With Arthur in the bathroom while Merlin sat on the bed, waiting. It all felt a bit more seedy than it actually was.

"Fuck."

Or not.

"Are you alright in there?" Merlin asked, leaning forward a bit to try and peer into the other room without moving from the bed. Because just going in there was probably an invasion of privacy. And Arthur probably needed some after everything that had happened.

"I'm fine," came the nearly shouted response. It was followed by what sounded like a few rather colorful insults in regards to Merlin's manhood which gave Merlin hope that Arthur really was all right after everything. If he could be rude, he couldn't be too traumatized, right?

Right.

So Merlin tapped his thighs, looking around the room as he waited for Arthur to finish up. "Are you sure?" he finally called.

The bathroom door opened abruptly and Arthur poked his head out to glare at him. "I'm fine. Are you touched in the head that you don't understand what I'm saying?" he asked, not cutting the most imposing figure with half of his face neatly shaved with a few small red splotches dotted along on his jaw and the other half still covered in white foam.

He narrowed his eyes at Merlin one last time before moving back to finish the job.

There were times when Merlin simply had to bite the bullet and hope for the best. Because all this random and generally horrifying knowledge he had stored in his brain had very little to do with how to appease a pissed off man in his hotel room. With a sigh, he pushed himself to his feet and padded into the doorway between the two rooms.

"You don't look alright," he said, leaning against the frame as Arthur placed the razor just above where the foam stopped on his cheekbone.

His hair was damp from the shower and he had yet to put a shirt on. A fact that was more distracting than Merlin had assumed it might be. So, he was a gay spy then. That was an interesting twist.

Arthur ignored him, hands trembling slightly the closer to his skin he got. His eyes were narrowed in concentration, fixed on his reflection in the mirror. One shaky drag down and, "Fuck."

Another drop of red and the razor hit the sink with a dull clatter of plastic against sturdy metal. "Don't you have something you should be doing?" Arthur asked, teeth clenched as he hunched over and gripped the sides of the sink to stop the shakes running up his arms.

"It's the adrenaline," Merlin said, ignoring the anger with more patience than he supposed he should. "You're still coming down from earlier. Just... wait until morning, alright?"

"Oh, and I suppose you're the expert on this then?" Arthur snapped, reaching for the razor again as he turned the water on to rinse it off and begin again. He was a stubborn bastard, Merlin had to hand that to him at least.

Narrowing his eyes, Merlin closed the distance between them, placing his hand on Arthur's wrist before the other man could react. Freezing for just a moment as his actions caught up with his brain, he moved his fingers on down Arthur's hand until he'd grabbed the razor from him. "Like you're an expert at shaving then? No wonder you had that pelt on your face if you're this shite at shaving."

Arthur tensed, not backing away from the invasion of his personal space. If anything, he seemed to be trying to puff up like an angry bird. "Like you could do any better. Have your balls dropped yet or are you still waiting for puberty?"

"Oh, shut up," Merlin replied, frowning in a way that wasn't nearly as mature as he'd hoped. The mirror was cruel to inform him of this. "Just... put your hands on the sink."

"What did I say about being out of your league?" Arthur asked, dry as the Sahara. But he still didn't back away. Stubborn to the very end.

So, Merlin took a step to the side, placing himself directly behind Arthur with the razor still in hand. "Yes, I know. Now can we just finish this already?"

Up this close, he could clearly see Arthur's shoulders tense into a ramrod perfect posture. Whether from the closeness or the comment, Merlin wasn't exactly sure.

"I was doing just fine," Arthur gritted out through clenched teeth. He glared at Merlin's reflection in the mirror as his hands found their way to gripping the edge of the sink tightly.

"I could tell," Merlin replied, looking at the small cuts rather than Arthur's tense posture. "I--I'm not going to hurt you."

Why the thought that Arthur might be afraid of him was such a sucker punch, Merlin would rather not dwell on.

Arthur turned his head to watch him out of the corner of his eye for far too long. Then, he rolled his eyes and went back to looking in the mirror. "Like I'd be afraid of you. A kitten is more terrifying. A kitten on morphine."

There was probably something terribly wrong with Merlin that the insults relaxed that horrible tension from before. Well, something more wrong than the whole 'killing machine' thing. "You're so kind, Arthur," he said, lips quirking up in an attempted grin.

"Get on with it, will you?" Arthur more ordered than asked, fixing Merlin's reflection with a look that implied he thought the man touched in the head.

"Right."

God help him, there was a dopey little grin on his face now. It was nice to be around someone who didn't treat him differently like he might have expected.

Settling his chin over Arthur's shoulder, he focused on the task at hand. Rather than on how his chest was now flush with Arthur's back and how he smelled like the complimentary hotel shampoo. Instead, he ran his free hand up Arthur's neck, on the side that was clean shaven. If just a bit dinged up. Pushing up gently on Arthur's chin, he didn't even have to ask for the other man to raise it enough for him to start.

Very, very carefully, he dragged the razor from Arthur's jaw, down his throat. Then rinsed it off under the running water in the sink. A motion he repeated in silence as Arthur very slowly relaxed against him.

"No cuts," he said, trying to break this new tension.

Arthur smartly waited for the last pass of the razor before responding. "So far."

He idly ran his thumb over the now smooth skin of Arthur's throat, pushing it once again to encourage him to turn his head to the side for the rest of his face to be shaved.

This close, he could feel Arthur's breathing speed up with each little touch. They might be considered innocent if it hadn't been for that.

"Maybe I was a barber as well before this," Merlin suggested, grinning wide to settle what he assumed for his own sanity was Arthur's nerves.

Arthur snorted in amusement, but refrained from talking as Merlin dragged the razor over his cheek now. His adam's apple bobbed up and down as he forced the beginning of a smile off his face.

"You never know," Merlin continued, clinging to the giddy thrill of making Arthur smile. It was perfectly understandable considering Arthur was the first and only sort of, almost, maybe friend.

There were really only a few more easy passes with the razor before this was all over and done with. Which left Merlin to look over his handiwork with a critical eye, not moving away as he really ought to. Instead, he ran his thumb over Arthur's jawline one last time, while placing the razor on the edge of the sink with his other hand.

"It's not horrible," Arthur said, breaking him out of his daze.

Merlin cleared his throat, quickly taking a step back and pulling his wandering hands away before they could cause more trouble. "No cuts," he repeated dropping his eyes toward the rather disgusting toilet and then back at the mirror when Arthur was rubbing the same spot that Merlin had been touching.

"No cuts," Arthur replied grudgingly as he slowly turned around to lean back against the sink. "So you're not as piss-poor as expected."

Merlin rolled his eyes good naturedly, looking up find Arthur staring rather intently. It was a bit like being pinned in place, to be perfectly honest. "I--suppose I'm not."

Arthur didn't move beyond a slight tilt of his head and almost forced relaxing of his shoulders.

It made Merlin's hands itch to touch him again. He took a step forward again, just a small one in case he was completely wrong about this. "You've got--" He reached over, brushing his thumb just beneath Arthur's ear to clear off a stray bit of shaving foam.

Somehow, without his say so, he ended up crowded in Arthur's space, pinning him against the sink as he pressed his lips clumsily to Arthur's.

It certainly wasn't perfect, even when Arthur's hands ended up in his hair and he kissed back. Their teeth clacked together painfully, neither could manage the proper angle so noses weren't bumped... But it was bloody wonderful at the moment.

Arthur pulled him forward into the kiss until they were both damn near on top of the sink. Which promptly groaned ominously in protest at this treatment. As the razor clattered to the floor, they both jerked away from the sink. Arthur's arm somehow ended up curled around Merlin's neck and Merlin's arms around Arthur's waist as they peered back at the sink.

Arthur stifled a snicker, lips turned up in a wild little grin as he looked over at Merlin, lips shiny and cheeks flushed. "Bed?"

The only logical response to that was a very enthusiastic nod and a, "God yes." on Merlin's part.

Dragging him back toward the doorway, Merlin very kindly ignored the unabashed laugh Arthur gave in response to that. More difficult to ignore were kisses Arthur seemed hellbent on pressing over Merlin's throat along the way. "You're not helping."

"I'm not trying to," Arthur replied, pinning him to the door-frame once they reached it.

"Oh."

Merlin might not have remembered, well, anything about his past, but he was rather sure this wasn't a common occurrence in his life. Unless, perhaps, he was some sort of gay, large eared Bond.

"Yes. 'Oh,'" Arthur replied, lips quirked up mockingly as he lifted his head for another proper kiss. "Is this--" He started and stopped, frowning at his own uncertainty.

Merlin nodded quickly, running his hands up along the broad lines of Arthur's back in a way he hoped was encouraging. "Yes. Really, really yes."

It seemed to do the trick as Arthur flashed him another cocky little smirk before dropping to his knees in front of Merlin. One firm tug on Merlin's ill-fitting trousers had them down around his thighs with almost no resistance.

If it was possible, Merlin's eyes got a little bit bigger than before as what Arthur intended finally registered in his brain. "Oh."

And it was hardly necessary for Arthur to smirk up at him as he pulled down on Merlin's ratty boxers as well. He took Merlin's prick in hand, slowly and deliberately stroking him to full hardness.

Never taking his eyes off Merlin's face, of course. "Can you manage anything other than that?" he asked sweetly.

"You--!" Merlin closed his eyes finally, letting his head thump back against the door frame in a vain attempt to distract himself from what he thought Arthur planned. What he probably had planned based on him being on his bloody knees. What Merlin hoped to god he had planned about now.

"Getting closer to actual words now," he heard Arthur reply before there was the soft brush of still slightly damp hair against his hip and what he could only assume were lips pressed just to the base of his cock.

Merlin had a response to that. He had something witty to say about Arthur's need to argue even now. But that all disappeared from his mind once Arthur embraced blissful silence and took the head of Merlin's prick in his mouth, sucking him down like he'd done this more than a few times before.

So, what he actually said in response was more along the lines of 'Nngh' and a bit of panting as his hands pulled away from the door to run through Arthur's hair. He had to open his eyes for this as the damp hair wasn't exactly tangle free and the last thing he needed at the moment was to yank on Arthur's head and have his bits taken off.

Arthur's eyes were closed, lines forming between his eyebrows as he seemed to pour all his concentration into the slid of his lips up and down Merlin's length.

"Oh," Merlin repeated in all his eloquence, brushing Arthur's fringe off his forehead so he could do something so lurid as simply watch Arthur's expression with far too much interest.

Keeping a firm grip on what wasn't already in his mouth, Arthur started a maddeningly slow and measured pace of bobbing his head. He shoved up on Merlin's shirt with his free hand until Merlin untangled his fingers from Arthur's hair to pull the damned bit of clothing off and toss it elsewhere.

Into the shower, those few bits of brain that still functioned supplied. He'd have to hang it up to dry.

Later.

It was entirely possible that what Arthur was doing wasn't all that great. Considering Merlin couldn't recall ever doing this before and therefore had nothing to rate it against. But he sincerely doubted that was the case at the moment.

Arthur pulled back, resting his forehead against Merlin's hipbone as he panted hot and damp against the skin on Merlin's thigh. He pulled his hand away from Merlin's prick for a few agonizing seconds and shifted about as though to get more comfortable on the cold tile floor.

"We can move to the--" Merlin started to say before Arthur looked up at him in a way that seriously questioned his ability to function with such a low IQ.

Then, very carefully, resumed his previous actions. Though this time with much less control than before. Messy and enthusiastic as he moved his hand up and down the rest of Merlin's cock in time with his mouth.

Merlin's head thumped loudly against the door frame and he shut his eyes tightly as though not looking would hold off the inevitable. Which might have worked had Arthur not groaned loud and eager around his cock.

It was just embarrassing what that did to Merlin.

"Arthur," he hissed, trying very hard not to give into the urge to thrust into that wet heat. "I'm not going to--"

You know.

Arthur groaned again, not stopping his movements still. What sort of person responded like that? Dear god!

Merlin's hands balled up into fists to keep from grabbing hold of Arthur's hair. "I'm--seriously, Arthur," he squeaked.

Instead of pulling back like a sane person, Arthur bloody well hummed his assent, pulling his head back until just the tip of Merlin's prick was left in his mouth and sucked hard.

"Oh god," Merlin said, barely audible as he came embarassingly fast.

Only then did Arthur pull away, bringing his hand up to cover his mouth and spit out--Let's just say it was a good thing that Merlin had already finished because that was a bit much.

"Did I break you?" Arthur asked, voice rough as he reached over to grab a bit of toilet paper to clean his hand.

Merlin snorted in a bit of near hysteric amusement. "Are you always this smug?" he asked, grabbing Arthur's shoulder to pull him up onto his feet again.

"Smug? I like to think of it as pleased with a job well done," Arthur countered, making a slight face as his knees were probably protesting.

Merlin reached between them to return the favour and found that Arthur's trousers were already undone and he was slowly softening. He shot Arthur a surprised look, mouth open to comment on it before Arthur just rolled his eyes.

"Oh, shut up, Merlin."

Swallowing back his amusement, Merlin nodded. "Right then."

He grinned dopily at Arthur, resting his forehead against the other man's. "Right," he said again as Arthur's arms found their way around his waist.

God help him, he never wanted to give this up now.

---

Arthur woke first that morning. Whether it was because it had been trained into him by his father's rules or because there was an unusual presence in the bed with him was up to debate.

Either way, it allowed him a bit of time to himself to think about everything happening to him. Somehow, over the course of only two days, he'd ended up tangled in a story straight out of an Ian Fleming novel. His part would have been played by a girl, no doubt. These sorts of things just did not happen in real life. It was too unrealistic to ever really happen.

First and foremost being Merlin was an absolute shit secret agent. He looked like a Uni student! If anything, Arthur should be the Bond here, not the little tit in bed with him.

Spies would not fling their limbs about in their sleep like him. Merlin lay on his stomach, one arm and one leg casually sprawled over Arthur possessively. Even in his sleep, he was annoying. Not a very good spy, no.

So, Arthur could be forgiven for not taking him seriously as any kind of threat as he gently ran his fingers through Merlin's hair. Though his face was turned away, his breathing hadn't changed, so it wasn't as though he was awake to notice. It gave Arthur the--drive. Yes, that was the right word. Courage meant he was somehow lacking, which he certainly was not, thank you. It gave Arthur the drive to continue his careful touches down Merlin's neck and back.

The blanket only covered the other man's lower half, so Arthur could see the three near perfect pink circles scattered over his back. Each one with a nimbus of what had probably been rather nasty, though now fading bruises.

"They think that what I had been wearing had a lightweight sort of vest," Merlin said abruptly, causing Arthur to jerk his hand back. "Probably what kept me from dying right away."

Arthur swallowed back something he'd rather not think about. "How long have you been awake?"

Inhaling deeply, Merlin stretched against him in a way that shouldn't be quite so attractive. Without the oversized shirt, he could see lean muscles instead of the assumed scrawniness. "Not long," he replied, having the gall to look sheepish.

He twisted around onto his side to use Arthur's shoulder as a pillow without any sort of permission. "It was nice."

"Nice," Arthur repeated slowly. He was a Pendragon. They did not do emotional honesty, thank you. "You're a complete woman."

Merlin somehow managed to take that as a compliment if the sudden blindingly bright smile was anything to go by. He leaned forward, hand on Arthur's cheek as he kissed him. Something bizarre and unspeakable in Arthur's chest caused him to kiss back with far too much desperate force. One hand on the back of Merlin's neck to keep things coordinated.

Since the idiot couldn't seem to manage that on his own.

"What's the plan now, Mister Bond?" he asked, hoping to god that he didn't have some soppy, romance novel look on his face.

Merlin sighed, glancing down at the bed. "We--" he started hesitantly. Like Arthur would suddenly protest the word.

Which was just ridiculous. He'd made his decision and damned if he'd back down now.

When no ranting happened over the word, Merlin continued. "We get out of the country. Lay low until this whole thing can be figured out."

The closed off look on his face really didn't suit him, if you asked Arthur. It was just wrong for some reason.

"Interesting plan," Arthur replied dryly. He turned his head to look up at the ceiling, watching Merlin closely out of the corner of his eye. "Though a bit lacking in the details."

Somehow that seemed to work at getting the faintest of grins from the other man. Not that Arthur had been trying for that or anything. He'd just been pointing out the obvious flaw in Merlin's plan.

"Well, they say simplicity is best, right?" Merlin replied, letting that grin turn into something far larger as he looked over at Arthur.

Which simply forced Arthur to lean in, hiding his own smile against Merlin's neck as he kissed him there. "You would be the expert in being simple."

Merlin laughed, loud and sudden enough that it probably even surprised him. "You're an ass, you know that?" he asked, shoving at Arthur's shoulder playfully.

Arthur flopped onto his back again, smirking up at the ceiling. "I'll have you know, I'm actually rather charming. It's hardly my fault that you can't seem to understand my wit and appreciate it for what it is."

He most certainly didn't frown when Merlin rolled away from him to the edge of the bed. That would be rather girly, don't you think? Nor did he frown when the man got out of said bed to hunt down his shoes. "I'm sure you are," Merlin said, shaking his head as he slipped his feet into over-sized boots. Did anything the man wore fit him?

Sitting up, Arthur watched him dress without making any comment on it. For now. He was just ... biding his time or something. "You just don't remember how not charming other people are. You don't have a basis to go on."

"I think I know what being charmed is like," Merlin replied, looking back at him over his shoulder before scooping up Arthur's discarded shirt to put on.

Which finally gave him the opportunity to ask, "Where the hell are you going?" without seeming like some simpering teenage girl.

"Well," Merlin replied, pausing because he probably thought he was clever. Which he really wasn't. "We'll need train tickets and a passport for you."

Arthur raised both eyebrows, letting his amusement show for now. "And you can get me one? One that doesn't look like some primary schooler made it in arts and crafts?"

The last bit was very important to add on.

Tugging on his jacket, Merlin nodded. And frowned. Which made it so very convincing. "I think I can."

"You think," Arthur repeated. Right. He was placing his fate in the hands of a simpleton.

Merlin beamed, nodding with more confidence as if that would convince Arthur he was telling the truth. Yes, because Arthurwas also born yesterday and still believed in unicorns and dragons. He opened the door to the room, pausing for just a moment to look back. "Don't open the door for anyone, all right?" he said, looking far too serious for all of a minute.

"Yes, mother," Arthur said, waving him away. He was perfectly capable of taking care of himself with madmen with swords and snakes didn't show up, thanks.

One last quick wave and Merlin slipped out into the hall, closing the door behind him.

Arthur flopped back on the bed, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath now that he was alone. He could just picture the conversation with his father about this. 'Hello, father. I've run off with a rogue spy. Danger abounds, but on the plus side, he's an excellent kisser.'

His father would--His father. Oh dear god.

His car couldn't have gone unnoticed in that parking lot. With the damned windows damaged by that sword and right next to a corpse. His father had to have half of Interpol looking for him at this very moment. And he sent Merlin out there to get them train tickets!

This was very, very bad right now.

Rolling to the edge of the bed, he grabbed the phone and quickly punched in Morgana's number. She'd be... more reasonable than his father. Which wasn't really saying much, but it was better than nothing, right? He looked over at the clock, hoping it wasn't too early to be calling her. Though, really, she should be staying up all night, worried about his well being. It was only proper.

"Unless someone is dying, I'm hanging up," came Morgana's ever chipper morning voice.

Arthur shot his phone a supremely unamused look in the hopes that it would somehow manage to translate soundlessly. No such luck as of yet. "Good morning to you too, Morgana."

There was a faint rustling of fabric--blankets, no doubt--on the other end of the line. "Arthur?"

And now would come the yelling for worrying everyone so much.

"Do you have any idea how early it is here?" she snapped, not exactly reacting as he expected. Though, to be honest, that was on par with Morgana.

Arthur looked over at the clock, answering without even thinking. "Half past four?"

There came a sigh from the other end of the phone. "Yes, Arthur. When sane people are still sleeping."

"It's not my fault you're being lazy," Arthur replied, easily slipping into old banter as he tried to figure out just how the conversation ended up going in this direction.

"Did you call for a reason or is this just you finally turning into Uther?" she asked, sounding far too proud of herself. It was a tone that had generally ended with something horrid being flung at her when they were children. And that one time in Uni. But she'd deserved that.

"I--" Hesitation implied weakness. "There's nothing going on there? With Father?"

That got him a snort of amusement. "Aside from his usual stomping around like a petulant child that you won't return?"

They really didn't know about the car? That was both a relief and more than just a bit terrifying that whoever was after Merlin had that sort of control over the police.

"Arthur?" she asked after he hadn't replied. "Are you alright?"

Shaking his head, Arthur let his bravado do the talking for him on this. Sibling autopilot, if you will. "Of course I am. Turning into a mother hen so soon, Morgana?" he asked. "Don't forget, I know what happened to your dollies when you tried that."

"Wha--" Morgana sputtered with an old anger. "You ripped their heads off to play doctor."

Ah, that worked like a charm. He smirked into the phone, swinging his legs over and off the bed to start getting dressed. "Of course I did," he replied in the most patronizing tone he could. "Shouldn't you be getting back to your sorely needed beauty sleep?"

"Fuck off, Arthur," Morgana replied sweetly. "I'm hanging up now."

"I love you too--" There was the click of her phone disconnecting and he grinned. Talking to Morgana did always cheer him up, after all.

---

"Fuck off, Arthur. I'm hanging up now."

"Love you too--"

Emrys was too good to make a mistake. They'd spent so much time training him to be that good. He was a ghost as far as anyone was concerned. It was how he was able to complete his missions, after all.

Pendragon, on the other hand, was a civilian. Civilians were prone to dumb, panic driven actions when backed into a corner like this. All they had to do was put a tracer on his father and stepsister's phones and wait for the first slip.

It hadn't taken very long at all.

Now, for someone who had spent the last few days living out of her office, it was surprising how poised and neat Nimueh still looked. Almost admirable.

"Did we get a trace on the location?" she asked, leaning back against one of the desks. The only thing cracking her calm appearance was the tapping of nails on the desk. Nervous energy. She'd already lost two agents, and any more would be unacceptable.

There was a flutter of activity before one of the technicians supplied, "Den Bosch, ma'am."

"Send the location to our agents. Terminate Emrys on sight, keep Pendragon alive if possible."

They could see just how good the newest addition to their little team was at his little mind games. Young as he was. Far younger than Emrys had been when they found him.

"Now, people," she snapped, sending them back into the flurry of activity.

---

The knock at the door came almost an hour and a half after Merlin had left. Half of that time was spent thinking far too much about what was going to happen next. And perhaps if Merlin was actually going to return at all.

"Yeah?" he called, staying where he was on the bed.

"De schoonmaak," a female voice called through the door.

Well, it made sense at this time of day, he supposed. Getting off the bed, he opened the door just enough to peer out at a mousy young woman and her supply cart.

She offered him a nervous little smile, avoiding looking him in the eye all the while. "Wilt u schone handoeken?"

Once he was positive everything was in order with that, the door was opened the rest of the way. "We need shampoo as well."

She bobbed her head obediantly, digging into the cart to find that for him as he turned away to go back into the room.

---

Merlin's Plan That Was Lacking In Details actually managed to work without a hitch. Possibly because most of the time executing it was spent on walking from the hotel to the train station and back. With only a few stops to pick up that morning's edition of NRC.Next--in which there was nothing about the incident at the border--and a pair of sandwiches to surprise Arthur with.

Everything would be perfectly in place just as long as Arthur didn't ask anything silly, like, 'How did you get a fake passport for me so quickly?' or anything. Because Merlin wasn't sure he could actually answer that beyond 'I thought very hard about it'. Which didn't work at all in the real world. Even he knew that one.

But he'd have to cross that bridge when he got to it.

Walking back into the hotel lobby brought him back to reality, however. There were guests milling about, all with the same general air of annoyance as a few of the staff ran about apologizing for the inconvenience of pulling them from their rooms.

Right then. This was very, very bad.

"Wat is er aan de hand?" Merlin asked the nearest disgruntled businessman.

What he got in response was a very loud and angry rant about the general incompetence of the hotel staff and how he was never returning here again. All in German, of course.

Which was ... helpful. Or not. Merlin was going with not.

He gave the man a sympathetic smile, pushing the paper against his chest in hopes reading it would calm the man enough to keep from ripping some poor clerk a new one. Then very quickly wormed his way through the crowd toward the stairs.

There was no way this was all some sort of coincidence. It didn't work like that in the real world.

Once he reached the right floor, his stomach dropped. Neat, official looking signs proclaimed 'Defect!' and that it was closed due to some sort of gas leak.

Ahead, he could see a cart of cleaning supplies parked right in front of his and Arthur's room, sending the jolt of sheer panic through his body.

No. Nononononono. This wasn't happening now.

Ducking under the warning sign, Merlin broke into a run down the hallway. "Arthur!"

Before he could make it more than a meter, the hallway was split in half by a line of fire. It was an almost perfect line, across the floor and up the wall, trailing back behind him.

Merlin stopped and twisted around to see a man, watching him with an odd sort of grin. His hand was on the wall, just where the fire seemed to start. Going by his business suit and thoroughly bland appearance, he'd been waiting among the displaced guests for Merlin to arrive.

"I almost didn't think it was true," the man said, hand tense against the wall as the flames spread up to the ceiling. In the brighter light, Merlin was certain he could see a scar on the side of the man's face that had not been there before. "Sent after her little pet."

"What have you done with Arthur?" Merlin asked, turning in place so he could run at a moment's notice. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see where the firehose and ax for the floor was located. An ax wasn't exactly subtle, but it would be a better weapon than nothing at all, at least.

At the rate and intensity this man was spreading the flames, the building probably wasn't going to survive. "She told me I was a petty arsonist with a knack for my medium before you came along. Let's see if that's still true, shall we?"

And he was insane. Lovely.

Merlin smiled once, wide and disarming, before he flung the sandwiches still in hand at the man's face and broke for the ax behind the glass.

---

"Arthur!"

In retrospect, turning his attention away from the maid at the sound of his name being called had been a bad move. It was hardly his fault. He wasn't a damned spy, unlike every person in the world now.

The feel of cool metal against his temple alerted him to this new and interesting turn of events. He wasn't even going to bother wondering where the it had been hidden.

"...you have got to be kidding me," Arthur said dully.

She managed to give him a slightly apologetic little shrug before pushing against his skin harder with the gun. "Sit on the bed, please."

And of course he'd get taken hostage by a waif. He was going to murder Merlin for this, he really was.

If he survived.

Taking a deep breath, Arthur turned as if to follow the instructions. But, since he'd had more than enough of this damsel in distress shite, he grabbed the gun, yanking down hard so it pointed at the ground.

And then, tried not to notice how he flinched and made a noise that wasn't girly in slightest when it did go off.

This was just ridiculous, anyway.

Not seeming to have the brute strength to wrest the gun away from him, the woman dropped her hold, using her now free arm to elbow him in the damned kidney.

Now, Arthur wasn't really inclined to hit a woman -- Morgana never counted as she wasn't human, she was a sister -- but exceptions really could be made. "For fuck's sake," he snapped, pulling the gun back to smack her in the face with the handle.

That ... did the job rather well, actually. She stumbled back, hand over her mouth and looking more than just a bit dazed.

It almost felt like kicking a puppy.

Right.

Arthur shook his head and turned tail to get out of the damned room to find Merlin before this went even more to hell. Only to find the hallway was on fire. When the hell did this happen?

Covering his mouth with his free hand to keep out the smoke, Arthur looked around to whereMerlin and some fellow seemed to be having a stare-down. In the middle of an inferno.

Oh, he was definately going to kill that little idiot now.

Arthur coughed again as the hand over his mouth did absolutely nothing to keep the smoke out. He took a moment to steady himself as the flames flared up higher. He just needed to run past them. They did that all the time in movies.

With stuntmen and paramedics on site, the still sane part of his brain supplied.

Unfortunately, the decision to move was made for him as something slammed into him from behind. Arthur stumbled forward before falling onto his stomach. Whatever that was hit him, pinning him in place.

He couldn't help but scream as there was a very real and very sharp pain when what felt like a damned bear trap clamped down on his shoulder. If bear traps were prone to growling, that is.

When the hell did an animal enter the equation?

---

"Is that the best you can do?" the man asked, voice soft and perfectly reasonable. "An ax?" He clucked his tongue like a disappointed teacher. "How the mighty have fallen."

It wasn't until he heard Arthur scream that Merlin pulled his attention away from the madman. He turned, ax held loosely in shock as he searched Arthur out.

There was what looked to be a panther on Arthur's back, keeping him pinned the the floor. Its teeth were at his throat.

Its teeth were at his throat.

That thing in him that usually flared up didn't happen. Or, rather, it happened so suddenly that he didn't feel a damned thing. Not the rush of adrenaline, not the heat of the fire, not the ax as it slipped out of his hand.

The creature dropped its hold on Arthur, looking up at Merlin with an almost human recognition.

But that wasn't important now. It was shrieking in pain, writhing against the wall where it was now pinned in place. The ax had somehow made its way up from the floor and into the wall, handle first. The cat was stuck in place now like a butterfly on a pin.

"Bravo."

And the moment broke, forcing Merlin to his knees, choking on the smoke and whatever it was he had just done. The fire surged higher, closing in fast now.

He was going to die here.

"You could have been great," the man said in that cloying tone of his. He was close now, standing right next to Merlin. "People would have dropped to their knees for you. But you chose this."

Merlin dug his fingers into the carpet, trying to push the dizziness down. It was like he'd just taken the top off a soda that had been shook up and everything burst out at once. His eyes were shut, but he didn't need to see to know the touch on the back of his head was a gun.

"I'm doing you a favour, really--" the man continued, only stopping at the sound of a gunshot.

But he wasn't dead. How the hell was he not dead? Opening his eyes, Merlin looked up to find a supremely annoyed looking Arthur, propping himself up off the floor with the arm that wasn't covered in blood.

"He talked way too much," Arthur informed him, dropping the gun in order to place his hand over the bite on his shoulder.

Arthur was okay. He was alive. He was--"Are you going to gawk all day or are we getting out of here?"--insulting Merlin again.

"Right." Merlin hauled himself up onto his feet, moving around the fire as best he could to help Arthur off the floor.

Lifting Arthur, it turned out, was rather easier said than done. Especially if you considered the state of his shoulder and his inherent stubbornness. "Come on," Merlin muttered, close enough now that he didn't need to be any louder. "We need to get out of here."

Arthur snorted, shooting him a look as he used Merlin more as a crutch to prop himself up against the, as of yet, unburned part of wall across from their room. "Brilliant as always, Merlin," he said, eyes closing as his face scrunched up in pain. He looked pale, starkly contrasting against the ash and blood smeared on his neck and face.

A doctor. He needed a doctor right the hell now.

"Hold on," Merlin said, holding out a hand as though it would keep Arthur conscious as he darted into their room to grab his bag. Money could go a long way in keeping the other man alive.

As he stepped back out into the hall, he was stopped by a hand grabbing his trouser leg and tugging weakly. "Merlin--"

Instead of an animal against the wall, it was a pale, sickly looking young woman. Her clothing was shredded and bloody from the ax and whatever had happened to make her an animal. "Merlin," she said again, this time smiling. "It really is you."

"I--" Merlin started, crouching down to try and help her without even thinking about it.

She reached up, cupping his cheek with a bloody hand. "You were always kind."

Staring dumbly, Merlin shook his head. "I don't--I mean--" He didn't remember her.

She smiled again, forcing herself forward along the ax handle in her stomach until her face nearly touched his. "Paris. Avenue des Champs-Elysees," she whispered before kissing him. "Remember that you are kind."

"I--will," Merlin replied helplessly, not so much pulling away as falling on his arse in shock.

He stared for a few more minutes as what life was left in her drained away. It was only the sound of Arthur calling his name that got him scrambling back onto his feet to grab Arthur's good arm. "We need to get somewhere safe," Merlin managed, voice rough and low.

"That would be good," Arthur replied, words slurring as he slumped against him.

---

When Arthur woke up, he was alone. In a nicer hotel room from the look of it, but alone still.

The only signs that the last few days even happened were the crisp, white bandages on his shoulder and several bottles of pills on the bedside stand along with a bottle of water.

He licked his lips, vaguely wondering why the hell they were so chapped. "Merlin?" he rasped, clearing his throat before trying again. "Merlin?"

Nothing.

Sitting up, he immediately regretted that decision. Dear god why did none of the movies mention how much this sort of thing hurt? "Merlin, if you're there, answer me," he demanded.

Still no response. Right then, he'd need to do something about that.

Scooting over in the bed, he bit his lower lip to stifle any noises of pain until he was off and on his feet. "Merlin?" he called again, not about to acknowledge the desperation in his own voice.

He practically sobbed in relief when he saw that silly red bag of Merlin's, neatly perched on a dresser. Shuffling over, he saw the note laying folded on top of it. His own name scrawled on the front.

Arthur,

I never meant for you to get involved in all this and for that I'm truly sorry. I'm not sorry for having met you, though. Even when you were a prat. And that was most of the time.

Arthur frowned, as if he could defend his honor from a letter.

You were the best thing about these past few days. Possibly the best thing in my life if I could remember it.

The edges of the paper wrinkled as his grip tightened.

There's enough money in the bag for you to have a fresh start anywhere you want. Be happy, you deserve it. I won't let them find you.

Merlin

Who the hell did he think he was to make this decision for Arthur? Who the hell?

Arthur felt his knees start to buckle beneath him and he crumpled up the letter into a ball. He didn't ask for this. Any of it.

That idiot had no right.

---

After the fire in Den Bosch, Emrys disappeared again, leaving Nimueh with absolutely nothing to show for all the money and manpower poured into his attempted liquidation. Left her twisting in the wind, to the mercy of her superiors.

So, it wasn't exactly unexpected when the call came through on her secure line.

"Nimueh," she said, pouring over Emrys' files for the hundredth time in hopes of catching a break.

"I was told the situation was under control."

She closed her eyes, hunching forward over the desk. "It is, John."

That, it seemed, was the wrong thing to say. "Three dead agents and the destruction of a hotel is 'under control'?" he asked, voice raised, but not yet yelling. "We're shutting you down, Nimueh. It has gone far enough."

Nimueh inhaled sharply, placing her free hand flat on the desk. "You can't do that," she said quietly. "I've worked too hard on it. We've both worked too hard on this."

"Be that as it may," John replied. "This is where our two paths part ways. Goodbye, Nimueh."

"John--" The click on the other end of the phone was far more frustrating than she'd admit. But she wasn't really one to show that, even in private. Which meant, instead of slamming the phone down, she very calmly placed it on the holder before standing up.

If he really thought she'd just give up without a fight, he was sorely mistaken.

Turning around, she opened up the filing cabinet, skimming over the contents before pulling out a few of the less... above the board operations. Including the Pendragon fiasco. She'd kept the hard documents linking him to Emrys and the permission to terminate if necessary. It would be good for back-up if Kilgarr wanted to play dirty.

Dropping the files on her desk, she crouched down to retrieve the gun neatly perched just under one of her desk drawers. The one that couldn't be traced back to her or the agency if the need arose.

It was the faint click that caused her to freeze in place, hand just brushing over the handle of the gun.

"How did you get in here?" she asked, staying just where she was as Emrys stepped out of the shadows in her office.

He stepped forward, gun trained on her like the good little soldier he was. "Does it matter?" he asked slowly.

If annoyingly.

"Stand up," he ordered.

Nimueh closed her fingers around the gun, pulling it back behind herself as she put more struggle than necessary into standing back up. "Why did you come here?" she asked, changing tactics easily.

She made him what he was. It shouldn't be hard to unmake him once again.

Emrys gave her one of those idiotic little shrugs, looking down at the files on the desk between them. "Do you think I'd have been here all this time and not taken the clip out of that?"

"No, I suppose not," she replied, putting it down on the desk.

"I want you to leave Arthur alone."

The corner of Nimueh's mouth turned up in a cruel little smirk. "That's what you came here for? To plead for his life?"

"And I want you to leave me alone," Emrys continued, chin held high and shoulders tense like a petulant child. "I'm not--" He waved his free hand over the files on the desk between them. "--this person anymore."

"You know it doesn't work that way, Merlin," Nimueh replied, managing an almost sympathetic tone as she slipped around the desk to join him. "You don't get everything for nothing. You of all people know that."

He started back, re-aiming the gun at her chest. "What is that supposed to mean?"

Keeping her own confusion from showing, Nimueh continued forward, running her fingers along the barrel of the gun. "We gave you everything here. And, for that, you gave up your past."

And future.

"I'm not that person anymore," Emrys insisted, pushing her hand away from the gun without moving.

"What person are you then?"

Emrys opened his mouth to answer, but seemed to find nothing to say. Instead, he just took a step back, looking away from her.

"You need our help, Merlin. You're not well." That much was obvious.

It might have been foolish to think they could wind a man up like a watch and never expect the spring to break, but that was why he was just the beginning.

He shook his head as if to clear it from whatever it was that was affecting him. "No," he said harsh and low. "No. You stay the hell away from me. And from Arthur. Understood? If you even think of following him, I will burn this place to the ground."

Outside the wind, she could see the beginning of a thunderstorm that hadn't been anywhere in the forecast.

"Merlin," Nimueh tried again, forcing a calm smile. "You have to understand these things."

His eyes were an eerie gold as he stared back at her like she wasn't really there. Completely unhuman and cold, just like he was trained to be.

Blinking once, the gold disappeared and he lowered the gun. "I'm not that person," Emrys repeated. More for his sake than hers by the sound of it.

The exhale of relief was possibly premature as he pushed her back again with a vague gesture and gathered up the files on her desk. "If you even think of harming him, I won't be so kind."

Oh no, no no. That wasn't going to plan at all. She needed those. They were the only hard copies available. Not even the offices back in London had them.

"Emrys--"

He turned, files in hand, and gave her another one of those inhuman looks before making for the window. "Don't make me find you again."

And then he was gone as suddenly as he'd shown up. Leaving her with even less than before.

---

It had been nearly four months since Arthur returned to good old England. Nearly five since he last saw Merlin or any of the insanity that seemed to follow that man around like a twisted little puppy dog. Not that Arthur had been counting the time since then. Of course not.

It had just been two utterly forgettable days that he didn't think back on at all. Nor did he think about where the idiot was or if he was all right.

That would just be silly. And Arthur was hardly the type to pine.

Regardless! He was back in England and life moved on as it was wont to. Because Arthur wasn't some simpering woman and Merlin was not a dashing rogue that swept him off his feet like in some silly movie.

Nearly being killed by a panther woman caused a man to reassess his life and the choices made up until that point. So, Arthur had come to terms with his father's expectations and still went about his own way. Without running off to another country in order to rebel like a teenager.

Instead of accepting the position at the law firm his father had painstakingly set up, he'd started his own. Well, it really wasn't so much a firm as going to work for the LSC while his father continued to grumble about the wasted potential.

But it made Arthur happy to help people like this. Any other job he might have taken would hardly do any good for people who truly needed it.

That morning was the same as any other. He was, as always, the first to arrive at the office. It gave him a half an hour of quiet before everyone started to file in and clients filtered through the door, looking for advice. Coffee was on and he was set to finish a bit of paperwork without anyone making eyes at him for writing too much and putting strain on his shoulder.

Because everyone was a bloody mother hen.

Third brief of the morning read over and additions made, he heard a knock at the door. It was still a good ten minutes before he expected anyone, so he got up to see who might be needing legal advice this early in the morning.

The figure standing outside made his heart catch up in his throat for a moment before he brutally forced that sort of hope back on down. Not every scrawny looking little hipster was Merlin, as much as he sometimes thought they were. Catching a glimpse of a bloke with far too large ears in a crowd one too many times before he learned to not think about it.

Shaking his head, Arthur focused on unlocking the door rather than watch as the man turned away from the street to look nothing at all like Merlin. "If you need advice, you've got ten more minutes to wait," he said, opening the door to let him wait indoors, at least.

"Not really advice I'm looking for," the man said in a voice that was just a bit too familiar as he stepped inside.

Arthur's head shot up and he stared for an unbearable moment, gaping like a drowned fish. "You--"

Merlin had the gall the smile, wide and easy. "Me."

Which meant Arthur was simply forced to let the door close noisily before smacking the idiot on the side of the head. It wasn't exactly manly or coordinated, but it worked well to get rid of some of the annoyance of that stupid letter. "Are you insane?" he hissed.

"I--thought you'd be happy to see me," Merlin said, eyes wide like a kicked puppy as he rubbed one overly large ear. Which was uncalled for. "Should I leave?"

"What?" Arthur stared at him, sincerely beginning to doubt those memories of someone vaguely competent. "Shut up. I thought you were dead, all right?"

That came out a bit more sulky and less angry than Arthur really cared for.

Merlin ducked his head down sheepishly. "Oh. I'm rather sure I'm still alive if that helps."

After another turn at staring, Arthur rolled his eyes and walked out of the waiting area. "Are you coming?" he called back after getting halfway to his desk with no Merlin trailing after him.

The response was almost immediate as Merlin jogged to catch up, chewing his lip as Arthur gave him another piercing look.

"I didn't--I mean--I had to leave," he started, eyes darting around the room to find an at least slightly more private area. "They would have gone after you if I hadn't."

"So, it was your brilliant plan to simply abandon me in a hotel room?" Arthur shot back, crossing his arms over his chest and not at all about to let his resolve be weakened by any pathetic little looks.

Merlin looked down at his feet like a petulant child, shoving his hands into his pockets. "It worked, didn't it?"

There was a silence after that as Arthur couldn't really come up with an argument against it without having to resort to childish taunts. Which he was far too above at the moment. He sighed, keeping his focus on something more sane. Like that coffee maker. "Why did you come here then?"

"I wanted to see you," Merlin replied, quiet and unsure enough to make Arthur look over at him again.

"That's it?"

He was doing well to keep his voice nice and even for the question. It would do his father proud.

Merlin took a step forward, only stopping himself when they were just close enough to touch. "What else would there be?"

Lifting his chin just a bit higher, Arthur took the next step closer. Just daring Merlin to do something about it with his presence. "You left quite a bit of money with me, you know."

"The money," Merlin replied, smiling faintly. "Was the last thing on my mind."

He reached up between them, stopping his hands just over Arthur's chest before glancing up as if to check for permission. Of course he would do that.

"Really?" Arthur asked archly, not willingly about to give away his own feelings on the matter. Not when Merlin was so bloody close.

Those hands finally touched his chest, smoothing over the fabric of his shirt for a moment before he seemed to give in and lean forward for a kiss. "Yeah."

About damn time too.

Arthur snagged him by the shirt, hauling the scrawny bastard closer to deepen the light, gentle kiss into something far more substantial. "Twit," he muttered once it was broken.

And, as if to prove how strange this entire situation was, Merlin responded with a wide, cheerful grin. "Better than being a clodpole."

"I can still kick you out of my office, you know," Arthur replied dryly. To which Merlin responded with another kiss. Which might have been the best decision he'd made in a very long time, if you asked Arthur.

So, perhaps sometimes this sort of thing worked out like in the movies. Where the hero got the girl. Well, spy in this instance.