Like Achilles & Patroclus

From all things they had passed together over the years, none was as hard on their friendship as meeting that cruel witch in the edge of the forest. She had done nothing, but shown Merlin Arthur's mind, his deepest fears, dark secrets, unspeakable deeds. He found he could forgive his king for all his mistakes – but one thing kept coming back to haunt him. From everything Arthur had never told him, had never shown, just one felt like a betrayal, like a sore spot in their relationship.

Merlin had seen it in the middle of his thoughts, but so vividly he couldn't forget. He had seen his nape burn as his master looked at it. He had seen his callused hands touching his neck, so softly that it was in itself a sin. He had to watch Arthur covering his lips in a kiss, wanting and fearing, trembling and unsure. He could have expected anything from his king, but this.

As he walked inside the king's room, Arthur turned only for a moment, before turning his back again, staring through the window. He was rigid and clearly as shaken as Merlin was – perhaps, even more.

"You are excused. I'll arrange things so you can go back to Ealdor, and I'll reward you for your services, so you'll be able to provide your mother a comfortable life."

"I'm not going anywhere", said the dark haired boy, hurt.

"Don't make things worse."

"You'll have to drag me there", was the answer, with a hint of a grin. "And I can make it hard, you know? I'll fight back all the way long. And then I'll come back. So, really, it is no use."

Arthur looked at him for a moment, staring while his friend grinned, and shook his head in disbelief.

"You are impossible; do you know that, Merlin?"

The young man didn't answer, and for a while, they stayed in a amicable silence.

"But I still think it would be best for you to go."

"Is this about the witch?"

He could see the king posture go rigid, but the blond one said nothing. There was no need, Merlin knew the answer all too well.

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"What was there to tell?" his voice was bitter, angry, as he looked at the servant straight in the face.

"You should have told me."

"Why? So you could go and have a laugh at me among the other servants? The oh-so-mighty-King-that-fancies-his-servant? So I'd be the laughing stock of town, of the whole country?"

Those words hurt the warlock far more than the secret had.

"I'd never do that. You know I wouldn't."

For a moment, the air was tense with unsaid things, but then Arthur dropped his shoulders, turning his back, all the anger gone.

"I know." He sighted, frustrated. "It was… It is hard, ok? I'd wonder, and think, and dream, but I always knew it was impossible. It wasn't to be. I just didn't want it to change things between us. You have been a good friend, and it would be a poor reward to betray you like that – to disgust you like that."

It took Merlin a while to decide what to do next. There were no words he could say. If he was honest with himself, he never, not once, had imagined that –this- would be one of his difficulties. He had never thought of Arthur that way, but he didn't hate him for that. He felt none of the things that Arthur thought he would. Still, he could see why the boy had thought it would be so, most man would turn their backs to a master, a friend, that looked at them that way.

Slowly, very slowly, he walked closer to him, around the table that kept them apart. His hands undid the knot that held his handkerchief around his neck, putting it on the table. His movements were slow, but not unsure. He reached for the blond boy's hand and held it. Arthur eyes grew wide as he turned, but Merlin didn't give him time to say anything, before putting the king's fingers against his neck.

For a while, they just looked at each other, until Arthur's hand caressed him, lightly, reverently. Merlin felt shivers going though his spine, allowing, enjoying, wondering. As the hand touching him wavered and dropped, he took a sure step closer, holding Arthur's face between his hands, and kissed him straight in the mouth.

Arthur's lips were slightly parted, and he sighed in surprise. Merlin didn't think, he just kissed him, allowing their lips to touch, ever so lightly. He knew the king wouldn't make a move, it was him that should act. He deepened the kiss, allowing his tongue to pass though the boy's lower lip, asking for permission, until they parted enough for him to explore the other boy's mouth.

It took Arthur a few seconds to react, to respond, but when he did, he didn't hold back. And then they were kissing, fiercely, all the softness gone in a whirl of teeth and tongues, lips and noses. Arthur held the skinny boy, his hands going through his dark hair, while Merlin moved to push his blond one. They came even closer, allowing their chests to touch, while the servant boy allowed himself to touch the naked neck of his friend, fingers digging underneath the chainmail.

That gave Arthur a new impetus, kissing the boy even more fervently, while his hands moved around, touching shoulders and back, hips and arms, elbows and ears. He moved around, exploring each line and awkward angles that shaped Merlin's body, while the dark haired boy held him as if he depended on that to live, gasping and panting.

Arthur moved to kiss his earlobe, his neck, and was rewarded with a light moan. As he moved down, still kissing the boy's long neck while he grabbed his hips against him, Merlin started breathing even faster, shivering and moaning loudly, until the blond boy had to stop, while he could, or he'd suffocate. He needed to breath.

Arthur looked at his servant – his face, flushed, his heavy breathing, his messy hair. Merlin couldn't speak, just yet, all he could do was look at Arthur, drinking the scene – his parted lips, swollen from snogging, his fingers trembling, his legs parted, his pants – not, he wouldn't look there. He didn't need to, he knew. He felt it too, in his own body – which was surprising, to say the least. He hadn't except to enjoy it, he had only hoped to show the King that it changed nothing. Alas, seemed it had changed everything, inside him.

"I'm – I'm sorry" said the king, shaking his head. "I shouldn't… I shouldn't… let you".

The raven haired boy shook his head, in disbelief.

"I did what I wanted to do."

"Out of pity" shouted the man, angry again. "I don't want your pity."

"Out of love" he answered. "I wanted to comfort you. I… I didn't know how it'd be like. You were worth it, I wanted to try."

The blond man looked at him as if he had just grown a second head. Merlin took a deep breath, knowing that –this- was something he could deal with. Arthur always looked at him like it.

"And I quite liked it."

Anger and frustration contorted Arthur's face once again.

"You can't."

"I have."

"You shouldn't."

"I never do what I should, you always say that."

"Merlin! Do you have any idea… I'm King, Merlin."

"Yes, sir, I'm aware of that. I was there too, you know?"

"You dollophead! You can't just… We can't."

"Says who?"

"What do you think the people would say? And the knights? Do you think the bards would sing our deeds, our bravery, our fairness?"

"They did with Achilles and Patroclus", was the boy's only answer. "And praised their love, too, even if it was a bit… different." Arthur couldn't argue that, so he just sighed. Merlin was impossible.

"They are greek. This is Camelot, not Troy. It could never be."

"This is not you. You don't settle for things because someone else says you can't! No, you fight for what you think is right, for what you believe, for things you love! Like you did with the Druids, like you did with the knights…"

"Like I did with Guinevere" he said, his voice as hard as stone.

Merlin didn't have anything to say about that. He had completely forgotten about Gwen for a few moments.

"I married her. I made her my queen. She's the crowned queen of Camelot. And she doesn't deserve this."

"You do love her, don't you?", the boy asked, unsure.

"I love you both, in different ways" he said, looking away. "One thing… Never interfered with the other."

"She's understand" Merlin said, faintly. "She wouldn't blame you."

"She deserves more, Merlin."

"Yes." He said, firmly. "She deserves more. She deserves the truth. She's not only your queen, she's your wife. She should not be fooled into thinking… She should know. And if she wishes me to leave, then I will. And if she accepts, even better. But she deserves to know. Don't fool her into believing she's the only one. Don't hide the truth from her, like you did to me. You should tell her – it's better than she finding out some other way."

"There will be no other way, there will be nothing. I won't say anything, I won't do anything, and she'll never know."

"Yeah, that worked so well with me." He said, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

The blond man looked at the dark haired one for a moment, full of desperation, full of anger, full of lust. And Merlin didn't hesitate, not this time, and kissed him again. They couldn't deny it – and if Arthur couldn't listen to it, he must feel.

And it was the complete opposite of the first kiss. It started out as desperate and intense, and slowly it became a confession, a bond, a caress, and when they parted, it was a softness that contrasted with the heavy armor and bony body. It was just – true.

"She has to know the truth." Arthur said, lightly. "If she leaves… if she hates me… Will you stand by my side?"

"I'll always will" answered the warlock, easily.

"Like Achilles and Patroclus" teased the king, softly.

"Yeah, let's hope it turns better in our case. I don't fancy the idea of being killed using your armor. It's so heavy – and, honestly, it's just annoying, all those chains and metal, it picks on your skin, you know?"

They looked at each other for a moment, and suddenly their laugh filled the room.

It would be ok.

A/N: It's my first story for this fandom, and it was written in the middle of the night, after waking up thinking about the ship - like you do. Be nice, and review!