*Note: As always, thank you for the kind reviews/follows/favorites. I've updated the summary of the story because… well, when I started I didn't exactly know where I was heading with it, and I think the new summary is a more accurate (and clearer!) to where the story is heading.

This chapter is shorter than most, but I did want to get something out this weekend, so at least it's not nothing!

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"Oh—" Merlin cursed. Arthur sat stunned, unsure how to react. Most people in the diner mirrored Arthur. Their waitress clutched a broom in her hand, but didn't make for the table.

Merlin cleared his throat and stood hastily, "Erm… Sorry about that. Lost control. Clumsy, me. Hit the cup with my hand, smashed against the other. Domino effect, y'know. Sorry." Merlin dropped some money on the table, probably too much, but he didn't care for checking at the moment; he was in a hurry. He grabbed the king's arm but immediately let go when Arthur flinched. Merlin curled his hand to his chest, looking momentarily hurt. He shook it off and whispered, "Arthur, we need to leave. Now."

The two moved quickly out of the diner and onto the road without speaking.

"Wait here," said Merlin outside of a store. Under normal circumstances, he was sure Arthur would have argued, but he stayed quiet. Merlin didn't know whether to take this obedience as relief or unease. In a remarkably short time—a few minutes at most—Merlin emerged with a plastic bag of essentials: toothbrush, toothpaste, soap, razor, shaving cream, etc. He looked just about ready to go on a weekend trip.

Merlin hailed for a cab, for which he also paid, and together they took it as close to the cottage as possible. Arthur's bags were cumbersome but they managed with as little difficulty as could be expected. Arthur was out of sorts. It was his first time in a car, and he sat edgily crammed in the corner of the backseat, where the door met the seat. Merlin sat beside him, with Arthur's bags on the floor. For a few moments, Arthur seemed to relax, but when the driver automatically and unexpectedly rolled down the window next to Arthur, he jumped and scooted closer to Merlin and away from the door, though still said nothing. Merlin would have laughed if he didn't feel as though he was going to vomit.

The incident in the diner was nothing, really, Merlin thought. In fact, he had done so much before—accidentally displayed magic in a public place. No, the employees would certainly forget it in their next shift, as the tables filled and food was served, and the guests themselves would brush it off with a laugh or forget it all together. People were stupidly and thankfully accepting in that way. Merlin was sure by tomorrow they'd think nothing of it, feel there was nothing suspicious about the blonde and brunette at the diner the day before.

It was Arthur that Merlin was worried about. Of course, he had shown his magic to Arthur, on that day when he revealed it. What had it been? A dragon made of embers to show the gentleness of magic and, later, the escape and force against a few enemy men to show the protective power of Merlin's magic. He had been, then, in full control. What Arthur saw then, though minimal to be sure (especially when Merlin considered he could cause an earthquake), it was sudden and invasive magic. It was pre-Camelot magic, instinctual and unbound. Merlin chided himself for acting so loosely in front of Arthur.

What a mess he was making of things, he thought. Merlin looked over at Arthur in the cab. Though he was finally leaning back comfortably, his hands were clasped together and were settled between his thighs. He looked out the window, down at his purchases, anywhere but Merlin. But, Merlin couldn't blame him. After all, Arthur had spent all of his life trained to associate magic with malice. And though Merlin believed, truly believed, that Arthur forgave him for lying all those years, it would be some time before the instinct of panic, of probably reaching for a sword that was not there, to stop.

Merlin was contemplating the best way to approach Arthur when the car stopped, the cabbie gruffly told Merlin the fee, and the pair shuffled out. Merlin tugged the hem of his sweater.

"You okay?" he asked Arthur.

"Fine."

"But—"

"I said I'm fine."

"Okay," Merlin breathed, not sure and not wanting to say anything else. They trudged their way back to the cottage and Merlin sighed as he unlocked the front door with magic. Inside, Arthur kicked off his shoes and left the shopping bags by the door. Merlin removed his coat and hung it on the coat rack, and watched as Arthur ran a hand through his hair as he made for the refrigerator, staring into it but taking nothing out. For a second, Merlin's stomach flipped pleasantly. Arthur looked the very picture of 21st century domesticity and in that second, Merlin could imagine everything was as it should be. But when Arthur slammed its door and slouched over to the armchair where he dropped himself imperially, Merlin felt the bad kind of knots in his belly once again.

Merlin sat himself down on the couch beside the chair and faced Arthur. He stared at him unabashedly, waiting for Arthur to say something. He'd even like him to yell, the quietness was so upsetting. Minutes passed away and with each Merlin became more agitated. "Arthur," he began. "I—"

"I'm not angry at you, Merlin," Arthur said, finally looking at him.

"You're—you're not?" Merlin's eyebrows drew in confusion. He licked his lips and edged a little closer to Arthur, hopefully.

"No, Merlin. Why would I be?"

"Because what I did! That was—I shouldn't have—it's not fair to you or—"

"Merlin!" The sorcerer clamped his mouth shut. "Honestly, you babble like a girl. I'm not angry with you. I'm angry with myself."

"Why? I don't…understand."

Arthur sighed, rolled his eyes, and threw his hand through his hair again. "Because I knew already, about you and magic. I should be expecting these things. I should be okay with them. I shouldn't be afraid of you, or—or react in the way I did. I shouldn't want to go for my sword when your eyes change color. I should know better."

"Arthur…" Merlin said slowly. "I don't know you shouldn't be afraid…. I mean, of course I would never never hurt you. You know that, don't you, Arthur?" The king nodded. "I just… what I can do, sometimes it frightens me. I wouldn't blame you if were afraid of me," Merlin muttered, staring at his knees.

Arthur put his hand on Merlin's shoulder and shook it. "Don't say that, Merlin. I know you. I know you're good."

"You don't—" It became clear to Arthur that Merlin's eyes were filling up. "We had only just met,"—Merlin wiped his nose on his sleeve—"When I lost you."

"No," said Arthur, shaking his head. "I've always known you, Merlin, magic or no." "—But."

Arthur chuckled and shook his head. "Merlin. When are you going to get it through that thick skull of yours? You aren't your magic. Well, maybe you mostly are. But magic isn't your wisdom, or your bravery, or your loyalty. You are much more than that. Maybe you're the greatest sorcerer ever, but to me you're the same idiot who was put in the stocks for a week straight. That Merlin is infinitely more than this Emrys bloke. To me, at least."

Merlin didn't say anything, but looked at Arthur with big eyes and parted lips, so Arthur continued. "I don't mean to say I'm not grateful. I am. Or your magic isn't important. I can't for the life of me imagine being in your position. I just mean to say, well, when it comes down to it, just Merlin is enough. And if that includes magic," Arthur shrugged, "So be it."

Arthur was unprepared when Merlin threw his arms around him and hugged him tightly. In his ear, Arthur could hear Merlin sniffle out a "Thank you," so small that if he hadn't been listening, he probably would have missed it.

It struck Arthur what a contradiction Merlin was in that moment: such a strange being, a lonely man and a fierce creature of magic that could frighten even Arthur at times, and a tender boy who wore his heart on his sleeve. It was difficult for Arthur to reconcile the two, except for to use the name "Merlin." For him, that's what the word meant.

Merlin backed away and grinned toothily. "Sorry," he said, but didn't look too sorry at all.

"Now, Merlin…" Arthur sat back in the armchair heavily. "What was that all about at the diner?"