#FUCK them kids (drawing chainmail) and fuck you too (drawing swords)
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strength and magic
#merlin#bbc merlin#merwaine#gwaine x merlin#sir gwaine#merlin emrys#mergwaine#my art#i listened exclusively to hozier the whole time i worked on this if that tells you anything#FUCK them kids (drawing chainmail) and fuck you too (drawing swords)
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A matter of time (a merthur fic)
Title: A matter of time
Pairing: Merlin/Arthur
Written for: MerlinMemoryMonth May 2019
I chose Path 3: A time to consider / A time to act
Summary: One of the things Merlin never would have predicted was the legendary King Arthur magically appearing into his living room and confusing him with the sorcerer Merlin.
It’s in Merlin best interest to calmly explain to him that they are in the 21st century and Merlin isn’t the person he’s looking for. All the while trying to not get stabbed with Excalibur and ignoring that the legendary king is hotter than any of those scripts ever described. And an incredible prat!
Read under the cut or on AO3
Listen, it’s sounds mental, absolutely bonkers and Merlin would recommend a good psychiatrist to anyone who’d ever tell him that the legendary King Arthur appeared in their living room out of thin air, but. But.
That’s exactly what happened to him.
And the day started relatively pleasant. Of course after he woke up at the fifth alarm, which was at 6:25, and that 25 minute delay fucked up with his everyday schedule. He had to run around the flat, dress himself with one hand and brush his teeth with the other, but he managed to catch the later bus and he was just few minutes late. His friend Maria covered for him and the kids were still sleepy, so they didn’t even care when Merlin burst into the classroom, flushed and panting, seeing his group already drawing peacefully with Maria.
After that everything went great, as it usually did, with the kids he loved and being as childish as he liked all the while keeping an eyes on those restless bundles of energy. Even a few incidents - like Thomas throwing up on his t-shirt - didn’t sour his mood.
Then he met up with Gwaine and a few other mates, who were kind enough to let Merlin shower first at his place before meeting them at the pub. All that Gwaine was always teasing him he had a lot of sympathy for the things the kids did to him and he shuddered at the mere mention of what those little sociopaths could do and say.
But anyway!
King Arthur, right? King Arthur.
Merlin was pleasantly tipsy - it was Friday, he never drank when he was working the next day - and he stumbled into his apartment, giggling to himself and planted his arse on the sofa, turned on Netflix on his laptop just to make some noise, while he was undressing and making his bed and… And he close his eyes and there was that.
Something woke him up. Some feeling he couldn’t discern. He didn’t drink that much, but maybe it was his upset stomach or he just wanted to piss. Righting himself up on the sofa and opening his jaw in a big yawn, Merlin was just standing up, before he fell right back onto his arse as someone appeared into his small shabby living room, just behind his coffee table.
Is “appeared” a right word? Maybe. Maybe more “materialized” or “pop in”, or not - those were just synonyms and not different words.
But yeah, you get the picture - some man came out like some kind of invisible wall, right foot, left foot, torso, two hands clutching a sword, a full body armour.
The man - because it was definitely a man, a knight of some sort - was crouched slightly like he was hunting or expecting someone to attack him any minute. He hadn’t spotted Merlin at first, in the low light of Merlin’s laptop that stopped playing Merlin’s show and now displayed just his screen-saver - a default picture of a cliff.
“Who the fuck are you?” Merlin shrieked, and maybe it wasn’t that great of an idea, because the stranger actually raised his sword and Merlin had a half of a second to think about his life, before the stranger was on him.
The stranger was on him and actually managed to flip the sofa on the back, Merlin falling back with it and the stranger on his knees on either side of Merlin’s ribs, his sword
dangerously close to Merlin’s Adam’s apple. He gulped and wanted to shudder at the feel of the sharp blade at his throat, but he managed to stay still.
And then the laptop screen went black and the whole room with it.
“What did you do?” snarled a voice above Merlin, sword even closer now.
“The light… let me just reach for my phone and I…”
“Turn on the light.”
“I’m trying… Let me go, so I can do that.”
“Just use a spell.”
“What?”
“Or light a torch. Where do you keep the fire?”
“Um… Like a lighter? I don’t smoke.”
That whole exchange was more that a little weird, but he went along with it, because the stranger didn’t actually seem like he wanted to kill him. Or maybe he wanted to see him as he slit his throat with that incredibly sharp sword.
“Listen,” Merlin started like he would start with a misbehaving child in his group, slow, steady and confident, “Let me reach into my back pocket. Or let me go.”
“What if you’re the enemy?” The weight of the man pressed onto him and Merlin gasped.
“I’m not. I don’t have any enemies. At least ones I’m aware of. I’m a kindergarten teacher. Please,” he added, hoping to elicit some pity at least.
The man grunted and the sword was gone, thought Merlin somehow knew the stranger was ready to pounce any second Merlin did something stupid. Merlin tried with all his might to not do anything stupid.
He reached into his pocket, slowly trying to navigate his hand in the darkness and trying to not touch the man, though he was still kneeling and keeping Merlin from escaping. His hand brushed a thigh, a rough material of trousers meeting that thing that knights were beneath armours, whatever its called. The stranger tensed and Merlin stopped, before he quickly grabbed his mobile from the back of his jeans and flipped it on from memory and chose a lighter.
The first thing that came into view was the man above Merlin. He indeed dressed in some kind of armour, held a real life sword and was dirty and bloody and had a cut on his face that looked awful. He turned his face away against the light and Merlin could see a strong square jaw.
Whatever he was, whatever he looked Merlin had to get away. The man, the knight was reeking something awful - stale sweat, blood, dirt. It made Merlin’s eyes water and he had to breathe through his mouth.
“Can I…?” Merlin started and the man clenched his jaw, but nodded.
Merlin crawled away from the couch, slowly, keeping an eye on the stranger in his house and got to the switch and instantly the room became bright.
The knight stood up, still gripping his sword, and Merlin stared at him in utter shock and confusion.
The man was blond, his dirty fringe falling on his forehead and curling behind his ears. His armour was dented in some places, though besides that he didn’t look injured anywhere. He wore that chainmail thing that Merlin felt for a bit and therefore knew how heavy it was, but the stranger didn’t seem to bow under its weight.
He had a light eyes, which was a stark contrast against all the dirt and blood on his face.
“How did you got here?” Merlin asked at the same time the man said, “Where am I?”
“How can you not know where you are? You came here!” Merlin just couldn’t believe. Maybe he was drunker than he thought. Or it was a very elaborate dream and he’d just wake up on the sofa with an awful headache in the morning.
“It was a spell, I got tricked,” the mad said, more grumbled really, then straightened his back, “Which brought me to you, so you must be a sorcerer, too. I demand you tell me your name, sorcerer.”
Merlin laughed despite himself. Who did that weirdo think he was?
“It was you who broke into my flat so late, so I don’t owe you my name. Though you owe me an explanation.” At the unimpressed stare, Merlin rolled his eyes, “My name’s Merlin and that should be enough. I answered your question, so you answer mine. And the truth this time.”
The knight sighed, a heavy sigh, and sat on the edge of the fallen sofa, his sword resting beside him.
“So the prophecy was true. The dragon said our paths will cross again. I didn’t understand the meaning of his words until now. The past and the future… Tell me, Merlin, are you not the same man that helped me over the years?”
“Pretty sure not,” Merlin crossed his arms. “And you better start talking sense. Tell me who are you and where are you from? And why are you so keen to believe in magic? Maybe you’re from Hogwart? Are wizards real and you just apparated into my flat, harry potter style?”
Now it was the stranger’s turn to frown. “Are you mentally afflicted, Merlin? Talking gibberish and accusing me of using magic...” He shook his head. “I could get you executed.”
Merlin was somewhere between offended and amused. “What? Are you some kind of royal? Wait, you’re a knight, I remember from the history books that only nobles could be knights, right? In medieval times.”
“History books? Is it not the law here? Where exactly are we?”
“Err… In London?”
“I’ve never heard of the Kingdom of London. Is it perhaps over the sea?”
“Depends. Where are you from?”
“Camelot.” Merlin snorted at that, but the man was utterly serious. “And my name is Arthur Pendragon.”
Merlin blinked. The name was kind of familiar, yeah. Though quite unusual. It was like a book of a movie character surname. Though Merlin couldn’t put his finger on that. But he knew like five Arthurs, so…
“Are you, uhm, someone important?”
Arthur spluttered, “I’m the King of Camelot, you absolute bumpkin! How can you not know that? I understand you could not have recognized me. I don’t look my best, I admit, and not everyone had seen me in person, but have famed my name on all of Albion and surely over the sea you had to at least heard of me.” Though, he didn’t look so sure of himself anymore. “No matter. I am tired and hungry. Get the servants to prepare me a bed and some dinner.”
“We don’t have servants here, my lord. And who said you’d be staying here?”
Arthur heaved a deep sigh, “Thank gods, so you have more than one chamber. I wondered how big this house is. And it’s all yours?”
Merlin had to laugh at that. “What? No. A lot of people leave here. And this is my little corner of the world, there’s no other ‘chambers’, sorry.” Merlin stretched his arms above his head and yawned. “But I guess you can stay here for tonight, it’s too late to look for a hotel or something. Besides, let me guess, you don’t have any money, do you? Or ID?”
“We don’t carry coins into battle. But I’ll be in your great debt and as soon as I will make my way home you’ll be rewarded with so much gold as you could carry.” Which, he probably though, would not be much, seeing Merlin’s lanky form. Jokes on him, Merlin could swing four four-year-olds clinging to his arms, which was no mean fit. Besides, running around fifteen kids all day kept him in shape.
Anyway, why would he even care what Arthur thought of him?
It was nearing two am and Merlin had an awful headache, all he wanted was to go to sleep. He didn’t think Arthur would steal anything, but Merlin genuinely did not have anything that valuable to steal. Besides, everything pricy he kept near himself in his bedroom and that room was off limits for Arthur.
But he guessed he had to let him use his bathroom, while Merlin had a time to make some sandwiches and think about what evil he’d done in the past that this was his punishment.
“First you must get rid of that thing you have on you. I’ll find you some towels and spare clothes and you can take a shower. You smell so bad.” The king looked so offended it was hilarious, but then he furrowed his brows at the word shower. DId Merlin want to explain what a shower was and how it worked and not being accused of sorcery? Nope. “Or I’ll prepare you a bath.”
“You would make a good servant, Merlin.”
Merlin rolled his eyes and went to the bathroom. He found a spare towel in a cupboard, turned on the faucet and on a whim added some lavender bath salt. God knows Arthur needed anything he could get to get rid of that awful smell. Merlin would have to open a window or something in the living room not to die. He checked if the water wasn’t to hot and went to the bedroom to find some clothes, before he reached it there was a thud from a living room and Merlin flinched before running to check if Arthur didn’t do anything to himself or more furniture.
He was sat on his arse on the floor, pouting. It was kind of adorable. As much as a dirty and bloody knight could be at least. When he spotted Merlin in the doorway he stood up quickly and gestured to his arm covered in armour.
Merlin saw him struggling for a bit longer, grumbling to himself, before he marched to him and batted his hands away. “Stop, stop, let me. You haven’t ever took off your armour before?”
“We have squires for that. It’s not that easy to do it alone,” Arthur said quietly, and Merlin heard him perfectly and unfortunately also smelled his breath. Maybe he would be more away of their proximity if it wasn’t for that. The smell was truly horrendous. He thought he had a spare toothbrush somewhere, too.
He got the hang of the buckles, while Arthur stood still as a statue, while somehow still managing to look relaxed. He had to be used to it. Being king and having a lot of servants.
“You don’t have to scrunch your nose, Merlin. I’m aware of how I smell. I just grown used to it. When on war you don’t have many occasions to take a piss, and baths… are a luxury.” He took a deep breath and as the armour came of realised that he was smelling Merlin. “Which doesn’t seem to be the case with you Londoners. Are you always as fresh as daisies or I came just after your weekly bath time?”
Weekly… Okay, that was too weird even for Merlin. Though to be honest he didn’t smell his best - sweat and alcohol and all, but maybe in medieval times that was considered fresh as a daisy. Shit, maybe they should stop with it altogether.
“Alright, this part came off, will be alright with the… the rest?” Merlin made a motion with his hand at the… chainmail thingy, but Arthur gave him a wry smile.
“Yes, I can take my own trousers off, Merlin, thank you.”
“Then come on,” Merlin grumbled and lead him to the bathroom, trying to hide how warm his cheeks have become.
The water was now reaching about two thirds of the bath and the smell of lavender was prominent in the air. He turned off the faucet and made a tactical retreat when the heavy chainmail made a heavy thud as it fell off on the tiles, hopefully not breaking anything.
“Will you be alright by yourself? Great. I’ll make some sandwiches. You know where to find me. The towels are on the toilet bowl!” And then he closed the door shut and leaned his forehead on it with a sigh.
“Merlin?” Merlin jumped away from the door. “Don’t touch Excalibur, you might hurt yourself. And if you even think of stealing it, I will chop your head off with or without it.”
Then, without waiting for a response, Arthur sunk into a bath with a groan. Merlin covered his ears and run to the kitchen.
Excalibur as in… the sword? And Arthur as in… King Arthur? From the legends? Was he also named Pendragon or… Merlin quickly checked his phone and yep, everything fit, King Arthur Pendragon, Camelot, Excalibur.
Merlin sat on his plastic chair by the small square table and banged his head on it. It was just getting weirder and weirder. Could it be true? But even so, how? And why? And why Merlin? He was nothing special. He had a name of the famous sorcerer and people teased him about it all his life, but that’s it. He wasn’t… He didn’t have any magic in his life, as much as he dreamed about it, since he first read Harry Potter.
On the other hand sometimes… It was absolutely crazy, but sometimes a thing would happen - a perfect parking spot, the last one of his favourite scones in the bakery… It was just plain luck, but sometimes Merlin fancied himself more magic than lucky, because of his name. He thought he was crazy, but he had seen Arthur appearing into his living room. He’d seen it with his own two eyes.
He started to take out cheese and ham and he even found a tomato in the fridge. He took out some slices of bread.
He hoped it was a dream, you know. He would just go to sleep, wake up tomorrow and everything will be the same as it was that afternoon, the same as it was everyday. Merlin’s life was mostly consisted of routines, not much excitement to be had. Even the blokes he’s been with weren’t very good-looking or fit or exciting.
Then he almost sliced his finger off when he heard the bathroom door opening and a footsteps coming closer. “Hi, Arthur, sit here. Probably not what you’re used to, but... Why are you naked?”
And the thing was now that Arthur washed away all the grime and dirt and blood he was… The most beautiful man Merlin had ever seen. That square jaw and straight nose, and light eyes… And it was so unfair that Merlin couldn’t touch him it was like a physical blow. The breath of his shoulders was also unfair, and his bulging muscles. His hair was even lighter than he thought - it was a golden shade, the same colour was also on a sparse hair on his chest and legs and around his soft cock. There were so many scars on him, some faded and old and some new and angry red.
Merlin swallowed and looked up only to flush an ugly red colour, when those eyes met his and stayed there, looking perplexed.
“You said you will find me clothes, but I did not see any fitting ones in the basket. Why are you so red, Merlin? Do men in London shy away from each other’s bodies?”
And that was not something he was willing to get into, but Arthur had a commanding tone and Merlin found himself stumbling over his words, “It’s just very… intimate, to see the other person naked. Reserved for an, uhm, people that are close.”
Arthur looked genuinely interested. He planted his naked arse on the stool and started to eat. At least he had the decency to swallow before speaking again, “You said you don’t have servants in London. So who washes you, then? Or the royal wash themselves?”
“Everyone washes themselves here. There are no servants and everyone are equal. I mean we have a queen and whatnot, but they are also normal people, albeit a bit more reach than us simple peasants.”
Arthur nodded, eating his sandwich, while looking around the flat. It wasn’t anything impressive. Merlin was not the person to hoard things and he was relatively tidy. There was the fallen sofa, Excalibur leaning on it as Arthur left it, the pieces of armour strewn along the floor. Maybe he should’ve tidy up some before Arthur came out, but he was just too bloody tired.
Still, he made his way to his bedroom and found some gray sweatpants from his old boyfriend and a Nirvana t-shirt Gwaine left there ages ago and they both forgotten about it. He brought the clothes to Arthur, who was finished with all his sandwiches and even stole one of Merlin’s, the thief and was now standing in front of Merlin’s bookshelf. It was filled to the brim, and Arthur chose a book at random. Merlin knew very cover by heart and knew it was some old edition of Alice in Wonderland.
When he looked at Merlin, he was impressed. “So you can read.”
“What?” Merlin managed, didn’t know if to get offended or not by King Arthur thinking he was so stupid he was surprised when he learned Merlin actually could read and the books were there not only for display. “Of course I can read!”
Arthur put on the sweat pants quickly and frowned a bit at them for some reason. They rode really low on his hips, indecently low and Merlin tried not to let his eyes wander much.
“I just... “ Arthur seemed to be at a loss for words. “It’s just that not many peasants from where I come from are literate. Even some of the royal servants weren’t taught to do that. To be honest, some of the knights display a lack of ability to do so and aren’t interested in things like books.”
“Peasant?”
“Is that… a correct term?” Arthur wondered, looking at Merlin like he was a peculiar sort of creature. “How do you call incredibly poor people in your land?”
“I’m not that poor! How did you even…?”
Merlin didn’t come from a particularly wealthy family, but he managed to make something of himself, leave Ealdor and take a job as a kindergarten teacher at a public school, which allowed him to afford to live in a decent but small flat in the centre of London.
“Your clothes.”
“What?”
“Aren’t you cold in winter? You even don’t have any sleeves and your trousers are too tight.”
Merlin even forgot he wore those, but they weren’t that tight.
“Those are called skinny jeans. People wear them all the time!”
“Oh. Why? Aren’t you uncomfortable?”
“A bit, yeah. But that’s not the point! They flatter the shape of your legs.”
“So is anyone attracted to those spindly legs of yours, then?”
“Yes, and every bloke I’ve been with said my arse looks great!”
Arthur’s eyes widened. “So you’re a sodomite, then.”
Shit! Merlin just blurted out that… Did people get killed or whatever for liking it up the arse in medieval times? Or was it after? Shit, buggering fuck, and he thought they were starting to get along, even if the king was such a prat, he didn’t mean him any harm.
“You look scared. Don’t be. We do not speak of a congress between men, but it’s not uncommon to indulge oneself with other men, especially when there are no women or whores around and, that is to say… Is it forbidden in London?”
Merlin accepted it as a mean to cheer him up and he smiled, relieved. The last time he felt like that was when he came out to his friends only to learn they knew or suspected long before and accepted him for who he was.
But the last bit caught his attention and hope bloomed in his chest. He wondered if Arthur ever… At last he said, “No, no. We’re pretty liberal here… Well, not enough sometimes, but we’re getting there. I could even marry you if I wanted.”
Which was, evidently, not the right thing to say. Arthur gradually started becoming red in the face and the blush spread on his chest, which was still uncovered. He clutched a t-shirt in his hands.
“As in two men who love each other can marry, not me and you obviously. We should go to sleep.” Then he stopped and frowned.
He had only one bed.
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"spiders of course its spiders" raychael !!
arachnophobia
Honestly, I really relate to Michael in this fic because I would fucking hate to be in his position (I think I would die?? like, just?? die.) But anyway Nonnie, I hope you like this! Let me know what you think & I hope you enjoy!
Pairing: RaychaelWarnings: Swearing & Spiders
The cave practically swallows them whole the second they take a few steps inside as if the earth is welcoming them home. The rock and dirt walls surround them so easily, blocking out the warm sunlight beating down on their backs and replacing it with cold, damp darkness. Michael lights a torch, Ray taps his iron sword against the wall.
“You think this will hold up? I’d rather it not collapse in on us,” he grunts, “I don’t particularly want to die crushed under a million tonnes of stone today, thanks.” He pulls his sword back and lifts it up, fingers sliding gently against the blade to see if he’s scuffed it. Michael doesn’t answer, instead, he just ducks his head and trudges forward. They’ve got a little under three hours to get the job done before dusk, and honestly, Michael just wants to go home already. Today isn’t the best day for a mission, but Geoff called upon him personally and Michael’s not one to turn down a command from his king.
He hears Ray sigh from behind him, and then the sound of footsteps thumping against the smooth stone floor. “Alright, so you’re still mad at me,” he mutters, slipping back into step with Michael, who deliberately avoids looking over at him. They make their way through the cave in a stilted silence, squeezing between the stone walls and jumping up onto overhangs. He doesn’t acknowledge Ray’s existence any further than offering him a hand to climb up the ledges, and Michael can see that it’s driving him up the wall.
Good.
He swings the torch in front of him, hoping the light will keep away any mobs that have taken up residence in the dark and keeps walking. His sword is safely attached to his hip, ready to be unsheathed at a moment’s notice, but for now, everything remains still and silent. That is until Ray breaks it.
“Michael, will you just talk to me,” he pleads and Michael takes a sharp turn right, uncaring if Ray falls behind. Honestly, talking to him is the last thing he wants to do- it’s been three days and Michael still feels like he could strangle the other man. He’s mad, he hasn’t had enough time to sort through his feelings and Ray’s an idiot if he thinks he’s going to get back on Michael’s good side so damn easily. “I don’t even understand why you’re mad, I didn’t do anything! No! Actually! I did, I did my fucking job, Michael,” he continues, getting angrier by the second.
“You were reckless,” Michael hisses back, unable to hold his tongue any longer.
“I saved him! What? W-what more do you want from me?” He demands and his hand shoots out and grabs Michael by the wrist, effectively stopping him from moving any further into the cave. Unease grows in Michael’s stomach, if this keeps going- if this argument turns into a full on fight- they’re going to attract some unwanted attention. He turns back to face Ray and deliberately ignores the look of hurt and anger that clouds his husband’s gaze.
“I want you to shut up, just shut the fuck up,” he replies, wrenching his arm free, “now is not the time to fucking do this, so shut your goddamn mouth and let’s get this damn job done.”
“Now is the only time to do this! When we get back to the city, you’re just going to run the fuck away and I’m not- I can’t let you do that.” Ray runs his free hand through his hair, letting out a huff and Michael almost reaches out to fix the lock of hair pushed out of place. But Ray snaps back to attention and continues speaking, words coming out in a rush, “Michael, I’m a knight. It’s my job to protect the prince-”
He rolls his eyes. “I know-”
“-so what else was I meant to do? What would you have preferred I do? Let Gavin die?” he finishes and Michael just deflates; all of the anger draining out of him within a second. A sigh escapes his lips and when he glances up at Ray, he doesn’t quite know what to say. He knows, no matter how much he tries to ignore it, his anger manifested itself out of fear. It’s just a bit much to handle sometimes, because every morning he wakes up beside his husband, kisses him until they’re both breathless and then has to watch him leave for the castle- knowing that there’s a chance he might not come back.
And then, to have that fear almost come true- well, Michael couldn’t handle it.
“What would you have preferred I do, Michael?” he repeats, voice barely above a whisper and Michael meets his gaze.
“Stay safe,” he replies, sucking in a breath, “I want you to stay safe. I want you to come home to me, I want to wake up next to you for the rest of my life. I want to see you with grey hair, I want you to be around to be there for our future kids. And I can’t have that if you- if you be reckless…”
Ray doesn’t waste a moment after Michael trails off, he strides forward and closes the distance between them. He pulls Michael into his arms and Michael clings to him desperately, hands gripping at his waist to pull them flush against each other. There not in the safest place, and the thought keeps making itself known in the back of Michael’s mind, but it’s been three days since he’s let himself enjoys Ray’s presence- his touch- so he wants this moment. He presses his face into the crook of Ray’s neck, lightly kissing at the exposed skin just enough to make Ray shudder against him.
“Love you,” Ray whispers and Michael smiles into his skin, his grip getting a little bit tighter.
“I love you too,” he replies and he can’t help but pout when Ray pulls away.
“Come on, let’s just get this job finished. Then we can go home and I can fuck you into the mattress,” Ray murmurs and the bolt of heat that flushes through Michael almost makes him whine. He bites his tongue and takes a step back from his husband, reluctantly slipping his hand into his tunic to pull out their orders from Geoff.
“Jones, I trust you and your husband to make quick work of this task. There is a cave to the south of Achievement City, and the townspeople have made complaints of an overabundance of mobs in the area,” he reads out, and Ray lets his gaze scan through the tunnels, “Haywood has the suspicion that there might be a spawner present. See to it that it is destroyed and any mobs you find are taken care of. Your services will be rewarded.”
“Five years and he still talks to you like you’re a fresh hire,” Ray huffs and Michael shrugs.
“I’m not to bothered, as long as he’s got the gold, he can fucking grunt at me for all I care,” he replies, sighing softly before turn on his heel and making his way further into the cave. Ray snorts from behind him, and Michael already knows what he’s about to ask before he even opens his mouth.
“Are you ever going to pledge to him?” he questions and Michael doesn’t hesitate to shake his head.
“No.”
“Why? You already take more jobs from him than anyone else, you wouldn’t be changing much, Michael,” he argues, “it’s not horrible, you know that and it would be nice to see you up at the castle more often. We could spend our afternoons together.”
Michael glances back over his shoulder at him, letting his gaze flicker over Ray in all his glory. His black boots and red tunic, with long black pants and that damn black cape Michael can’t seem to convince him to get rid of him. And then there’s the chest plate and the chainmail that sits overtop, the one with Ramsey’s insignia cut into it that Michael just can’t seem to get away from. He has nothing against the king, but the fact is that he’s the reason that Ray goes head first into dangerous situations without a second thought.
He can’t pledge to the king because then he’d be tasked with keeping the royal family safe with Ray by his side- and he knows that if he were put into that situation, it would not be the Ramseys’ he would be protecting.
It would be Ray.
“I like my freedom,” he replies instead and Ray rolls his eyes.
“No you don’t, you complain endlessly about the other contacts you take. You hate working independently, and yet you continue to do so. You have other options, Michael, you don’t have to be a knight like me-” he says but Michael cuts him off, holding up his hand to quiet him. He can see the challenge in Ray’s eyes, the want to dismiss Michael’s orders and continue talking but then he hears it too.
The sound of shuffling, the sound that tells them there’s something else here with them.
They both have their swords draw within a matter of seconds, their conversation dropped at the threat of an attack. Michael takes the point and Ray follows close behind, and they advance to the sound with slow steps. It’s agonising to move slowly, but Michael doesn’t want to lose their element of surprise and honestly, part of him is terrified to find out the source.
It doesn’t sound… right. He’s heard zombies before, listened to the sound of their undead groans and felt the hair on the back of his neck stand up. He’s heard the click of the bones belonging to the reanimated skeletons, the sound of them nocking their arrow before letting it fly.
He’s also heard spiders, and when he thinks about it… the shuffling sound can be easily the sound of eight legs scuttling along the stone walls and floor- and the thought makes Michael’s blood run cold. He sucks in a breath to steady his pounding heart and prays that it’s not spiders. He pushes forward and ducks underneath the low hanging stone roof, catching sight of something glowing in the distance.
The spawner.
The gridded cube casts a shadow on the walls with every pulsating glow it emits, but it’s enough for Michael to catch sight of the things that rest on the walls and the roof. Red eyes stare back at him, unconcerned with their presence but Michael knows that if they move any closer, that will change. Ray moves to his side, and when his husband gently reaches out to grab his wrist, Michael can’t help but jump.
“Spiders, of course, it’s fucking spiders,” he whispers and Michael swallows around the lump forming in his throat. They shouldn’t have taken this job.
Ray tugs at his arm until Michael’s gaze snaps away from the spiders and it lands on him instead. “We can do this, yeah? You’ve killed spiders before Michael-” he holds up a hand when Michael opens his mouth to argue- “no, you have. And it might not have been fun, it might not have been the easiest thing to do, but you did it. So I’m going to destroy the spawner, and you’re going to defend me, alright?”
Michael shakes his head violently, letting out a hiss, “I can’t- I can’t.”
“Yes you can, babe.” He grabs Michael’s hands and pulls him in close, enough so that he can rest their foreheads together. Michael can feel himself trembling slightly, he can feel the burn of the tears forming behind his eyes but Ray’s touch grounds him slightly and so he tries to calm himself down. “You’ll keep me safe, I trust you. So let’s get this done, and then we can go home and I’ll make you feel better, I promise.”
It takes all of his willpower not to let out a sob when Ray pulls away, hands clenching into fists by his side when he’s forced to stand on his own. He can hear them, he can hear them shuffling around a few feet away from him and it’s torture. Just the idea of getting close to them makes Michael want to pass out, head spinning with fear; but Ray’s right, if they don’t get rid of the spawner then there’s a chance of the mobs attacking the nearby townspeople.
Plus, he’s got to keep Ray safe.
Ray moves first, quietly following the length of the wall towards the glowing spawner and once he’s as close as possible without provoking an attack, Michael sucks in a breath and charges forward. He needs to keep their attention, give Ray enough time to get close to the spawner and find a way to destroy it; so he does what he does best. He lets out a growl and swings for the closest spider, embedding his blade in its cephalothorax before removing it just as quickly. It’s legs give out from underneath it, and while Michael knows that there’s plenty more spiders to kill- the thought making his stomach turn- he takes a small victory.
He glances up at Ray, needing reassurance that his husband’s still okay, and catches sight of him effortlessly slaying each new spider that spawns next to him. He’s not overrun yet, but Michael still changes his path so that he fights his way towards him, not away from him. He spins left and swings at the next closest arachnid, slicing through its legs with a clean sweep and then brings the sword back down to decapitate it. His focus darts between the horrid creatures, swiping at one then switching his attention to another, back and forth until he has another corpse lying at his feet and their green blood stains the floor.
They never seem to stop coming, and he can feel his chest getting tighter with every breath he takes. He’s going to hyperventilate, he can just see it coming, the panic pushing down on him with each spider that spawns. There’s too many, they don’t stop coming and Michael can’t fight them all. He lets out a whimper and bites down on his lip hard enough to draw blood, unable to stop the flood of thoughts drowning him. They’re going to die, Ray’s going to die, and all because he’s too afraid of fucking spiders to keep his partner safe.
Ray’s going to die. Ray’s going to die. Ray’s going to die-
What little air he has left is knocked out of his lungs when something pounces on him, dropping him to the ground with a grunt and he barely manages to shield himself with his arms before the spider can bite him. Up close, it’s even worse and Michael knows he’s definitely crying now. He can’t see Ray, his sword is nowhere near him and he’s not sure how much longer he’s going to be able to hold this thing off. There is venom dripping from the spider’s fangs and it makes Michael’s stomach sick. He sucks in a desperate breath and pushes back, hoping to dislodge the arachnid from his chest. His arms shake as he fights and he can’t stop whispering Ray’s name under his breath, but he doesn’t give in.
He’s gotta keep Ray safe, he’s gotta keep Ray safe.
He gets the spider far enough off of him to take another gasp for breath and then suddenly the spider on top of him goes limp, just enough for him to dislodge it completely. He dumps the corpse off of him and the second his gaze falls on Ray, he can’t help but let out a desperate sob. Ray doesn’t waste a second, he crouches down to Michael’s level and frames his face with his hands, crowding up against him. Michael wraps his arms around his husband’s waist and shudders in his arms.
“You did so well, baby. They’re all dead, the spawner’s gone and I’m so proud of you Michael. You kept me safe, you kept me safe, I’m alright,” he soothes and Michael lets his eyes fall shut. “We can go home, I’ll take care of you, we can forget about all of this, yeah? God, I love you, I love you so much, Michael.”
“I love you,” he whispers back and Ray hums softly, not daring to break contact. The silence is a much better sound and while it’s broken every few moments by the sound of Michael’s heavy breathing, he’ll gratefully take it over the sound of the shuffling. He can’t quite find the energy to move, but Ray doesn’t seem to mind sitting with him so Michael just lets himself relax slowly.
He doesn’t know how long it’s been since they entered the cave, he doesn’t know how long they’ve been sitting there in the dark when he slowly comes back to himself. But his sobs have subsided and he’s not shaking as violently anymore, so he knows it’s time to leave. He doesn’t let go of Ray, though, and while it makes standing up slightly awkward, they manage.
“Let’s go home, Michael,” Ray mutters and Michael nods.
God, he fucking hates spiders.
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