This is my Nano, because who needs to wait for November to actually write the thing. Twelve chapters are written so far, and I hope y'all can enjoy reading this as much as I enjoy writing it. Feedback is fantastic!

Disclaimer: I do not own BBC Merlin. All associated settings and concepts are property of the British Broadcasting Corporation. No copyright infringement is intended; no profit is being made.

Merlin sighed to himself, scrolling down the pages of his thesis, though not really reading them. Class would be starting shortly, and he just wanted to look busy while he waited for his students. Why he was even here so early, he had no idea, but the time to use the classroom's computer in relative silence wasn't to be stomped on.

Another year, another tedious life. Jumping around from job to job, never staying long enough for people to question what was up with the man who never died... Oh, he aged, he let himself age, but when it got to be too much, he used magic to alter his appearance. It made his body stronger, though he still felt his age, deep in his bones.

Above all else, he was tired.

At least his waiting was over. After one thousand four hundred twenty-four years, his friend had returned. That was nearly twenty years ago, now, though they had barely spoken a word. Merlin had never found the chance to approach the reborn Arthur on the subject, so he watched and waited in the background, silently awaiting the calamity that had to be approaching.

The door opened, and Merlin glanced up. He concealed the flinch that came upon him reflexively with practiced grace, and greeted Morgana and Morgause Hunter with a polite nod. The sisters waved cheerfully, the former smiling brightly at him.

"Can I help you with something?" he asked politely. They weren't on this class, but he recognised them...because of course he did. How could he not?

"Yes, actually, we're here to see Arthur," Morgause supplied.

"Just hoping to catch him before class," Morgana added, shooting Merlin a winning smile. She was as beautiful as she had been in the sixth century. "I hope it's not a problem?"

"Not at all, so long as you're done before class starts."

"Of course," Morgana assured. "He's never late."

"Not unless his useless servant doesn't wake him on time..." he muttered under his breath.

"Did you say something, Merlin?"

"Oh, sorry. Just muttering about my thesis. I'm stuck on one section," he said, giving Morgana a winning smile of his own.

"You're writing it in...history, right?"

That was his guise this time, a graduate student, working on his PhD in history, and teaching a few undergrad classes on the side. "That's right. An analysis of past rulers, and how our world grew out of their policies—focussing here in the UK, of course."

"That's really interesting," Morgana said. "How's it coming?"

He let out a groan that was not at all feigned. "Apparently I have 'radical ideas'," he muttered, making air quotes.

"Really, how so—?" Morgana began, only to be interrupted by a new voice—one Merlin knew all too well, even a millennium-and-a-half later. The smile had not faded a lick, either.

"Morgana, Morgause, what are you doing here?" Ancient magics, why did he have to be so charismatic, still? Not that Merlin was really complaining.

"Arthur! We came to see you, actually," Morgana said, walking over to her cousin's shoulder.

"Really? I wouldn't have expected anything less. Surely you weren't here to see Merlin of all people."

Arrogant prat... Merlin mused, a hint of affection, a hint of annoyance.

"Oh, don't be such an ass, Arthur. It's not his fault you're failing the class."

Morgana's words drew a snort out of Merlin, and a scoff out of Arthur. "I am not—!"

She cut him off with a laugh. "Gwen and I were going to get some lunch tomorrow. I was wondering if you wanted to join us."

"Anyone else coming?" Arthur asked, tossing his bag onto a table and dropping into the seat.

"I think she was inviting Lance."

Arthur shrugged, broad shoulders rippling under his black jacket in a way Merlin definitely was not watching. "Why not? There's nothing I enjoy more than watching those two make doe-eyes at one another."

Morgana snorted a very un-ladylike laugh, the likes of which the Morgana he recalled would never make. "Tell me about it."

"It is kind of cute, though," Morgause argued lightly.

"Only you, sis."

"You think so too," Morgause shot back, elbowing her sister gently.

The two shared a small smile, their bond as intact as ever. Their roles had altered, slightly, upon their rebirth, but their love for one another remained. Merlin was happy to see that neither had reason for such hate, any longer. He hoped it stayed that way.

"Perhaps—why don't you join us, Merlin? I never see you without far too many books. I bet a break would be good for you."

"Him? Don't be ridiculous, Morg. He doesn't know how to have fun."

I can still beat you at dice, he grumbled mentally.

"Don't be silly. I enjoy a number of thrilling hobbies," he said.

"Oh really? Like what?" Arthur challenged.

"Boot shining, sword sharpening, even the entrancing skill of chainmail polishing."

"You...are really weird."

Morgause looked like she shared Arthur's sentiment, but Morgana was smirking in amusement. "Haven't I seen you with a sketchbook a few times?"

"I draw sometimes," he admitted, "and I write a bit. But mucking out stables is much more fun."

"You are mentally unstable."

"And I grade you, so if you want to pass..." And how strange was it to be the one laying down the threats? That had always been Arthur's thing.

"And the dean is down the hall..." That was more like it. Merlin met the banter with a grin, but Arthur just sent him a flat look, the easy camaraderie that he remembered gone and buried with Arthur Pendragon.

"Ooookay, enough of that," Morgana muttered. "You want to come, Merlin? I promise some of us are easier to get along with."

Oh the irony.

"Sure, why not." It gave him a chance to get to know this Arthur better. Despite having watched him for nearly two decades, Merlin really did not know him at all. He had had no real reason to approach him, before, being too much older to attempt casual friendship, but now that they were together at the university...well, chance was presenting itself.

"Great. Tomorrow at one, meet us at the Starbucks on Princess Street."

"Great." It was more sarcastic coming from Arthur than Morgana. "Remind me again why you didn't just text me?"

"Because I knew you wouldn't invite him if I asked," she replied, winking and turning for the door, Morgause following suit. "Toodles! See you tomorrow, Merlin!"

Waving the two women off, Merlin turned to Arthur with a smug grin, folding his arms across his chest. "Looking forward to it!" he called after them, not looking away from Arthur.

Merlin ignored his scoff, heading to the front to address the rest of the class, which had slowly been trickling in. He ignored the feeling of Arthur's eyes boring into his back.

Arthur spent the class watching his instructor—not professor, Merlin Balinorson didn't even have a PhD yet—instead of actually taking notes. He did not miss the way the man watched him back, either. Not that that was any different from any other class.

Truthfully, Arthur had always found the way the other man watched him constantly a touch...unnerving. He had never done anything to deserve the degree of scrutiny he got. At one time, he may have almost thought Merlin was checking him out, but the casual flirting with Morgana had laid rest to that, at least.

Today's exchange had only added to his confusion. He might sound crazy for saying it—so he would just not say it—but there were times he had sensed an almost playfulness from Merlin's words, like the professor had been somehow expecting more from their arguments.

...the man probably just wanted to get to his hot cousin through him. It would hardly be a first. In this case, however, it seemed like maybe his cousin was interested back, so he should step back and leave them to it...except he really loathed the man.

As class wrapped up, he found himself impulsively grabbing his bag and stalking to the front of the room.

"Can we talk?"

"I certainly can, but sometimes I'm not sure about you—actually, I take that back. There's no doubt you can talk, it's whether or not you can make sense that's in question."

Arthur's brow furrowed, meeting the man's almost—expectant? hopeful?—look with one of confusion. "What are you prattling on about?"

Merlin cleared his throat, gaze drifting away, but not quite fast enough to hide the look of disappointment there. With one hand, he reached up to clutch at his chest. "Right then. What is it?" No saucy remark, at least.

"If anyone isn't making sense, it's you," he muttered, the comeback perhaps a touch late. "Whatever. I just want to tell you to keep your hands off my cousin."

Merlin blinked, then quirked an admittedly impressive eyebrow. "Wha—no, that's—"

"I don't want her getting hurt. Especially not by the likes of you."

The look of incredulity that was sent his way nearly made Arthur reconsider his approach. Nearly.

"I'm not going to be hurting her. Trust me."

"Good. See you don't. If you do, you better hope I get to you before Morgause does."

"...somehow, I'd be more afraid of Morgana herself," Merlin remarked, shrugging one bony shoulder. Somehow, the man managed to be a beanpole and short at the same time. Lanky, that was the word.

"I wouldn't be so sure about that." For some reason, Merlin seemed to find that amusing. "Whatever, just...don't."

"Right, right. I'm not interested in her like that, anyway."

"...and why not?" Who wouldn't be? Morgana was gorgeous, and anyone like Merlin should be thrilled to have her attention!

Seeming to realise he'd shoved his foot in his mouth, Merlin gaped at him a moment, then collected himself. "Well, uh...look. I promise not to hurt her, okay?" He held out a hand. "Promise."

With a suffering sigh, Arthur held out his own. "Fine."

The handshake was awkward, Merlin grasping his forearm for whatever reason, then back-peddling quickly, rubbing at his head as he did so. "Sorry. Just making sure you didn't have any knives. Don't like being stabbed, worse than getting hit, even."

This man was a ten on the crazy scale.

"...Right."

"Really, I think I've just been working on this thesis too much. Middle-age handshakes this week, reverting to using a chamber pot next..."

Arthur gave up. Retrieving his bag from where he had set it at his feet, he shouldered it and turned away.

Crazy.