So I read and interview with Colin about the small matter of slash and fangirls. He thinks it's hilarious, and the director's just miffed because apparently, there is NOTHING implied in the series, other than intimate male friendship. ^_^
So in tribute to Colin and his amused insistance that his character is as straight as a roman road, I've written this.

Pure friendship. Modern day.

Read, review, enjoy.

~Football and Feelings~

There is no way, through praise or loyalty or truths or serious speeches, Arthur can convey to this man the exact way he feels.

How he finally feels content now Merlin is there beside him in this thoroughly ordinary world.

Yes, the glories of Avalon had been many. The eternal sun and the stars and the sheer tranquillity. But the nick in his side had always been…

The so very un-masculine fact that he'd missed him.

He'd missed Merlin.

Merlin absently flicks the glare of the sports channel off, stretching and settling back onto the sofa cushions.

A Saturday night, simple, quiet, together. Arthur enjoys Saturdays like this.

It's been years since they'd found each other once more, and still Arthur feels wordless, so inadequately handling their friendship, unable to confess the depths of his affection for fear of how to say it right, for Merlin was simply the best friend he'd ever had. In any life.

From across the sofa, Merlin appraises him with questioning eyes. Arthur was having a contemplative evening, blue eyes faraway and frowning.

Arthur struggles with the notions of different ways to tell him how very much he means to him. There is always too much art with too little content.

Through everything, every single turn he's been there, and Arthur just can't- he sighs. Through ways and means the solidest, most comforting thing has always been Merlin.

He leans forward, taking Merlin's surprised hands in his.

Looking into eyes, they sit silently and perfectly still for a while.

There needs not to be any words, for there is no way, through praise or loyalty or truths or serious speeches, Arthur can convey to this man the exact way he feels.

After a time, Arthur coughs loudly. Muttering about football and beer, he walks off to the kitchen, self-consciously mussing his hair.

Merlin smiles, because he knows exactly what he means.