and they weren't always the wrong person
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Summary
The face in the picture just barely matched the face which was quickly coming into focus. The boy between Gwaine and Lance was emaciated, and his face was mangled. There were chunks missing from his skin, and everything was joined by messy stitches, unevenly done. But the eyes were narrow, and he had two large ears. His hair was shaped in a very thin imitation of a bowl-cut, and he wore a beat-up brown jacket and a red scarf atop a blue shirt. His boots were worn, with thin soles.
Merlin.
Series
- Part 1 of and they weren't always the wrong person
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Summary
Merlin comes back as a zombie. Arthur won't stop looking at him wrong. Merlin comes back, and Arthur is a stranger.
It hadn't been ten years for Merlin: he still remembered that Arthur was supposed to tease him, was supposed to rib him, was supposed to punch Merlin's shoulder and rub his knuckles in Merlin hair as he shoved Merlin into a headlock. He still remembered that Arthur was supposed to goad him in to danger, out of his comfort zone, away from the little cottage Merlin called home. He still remembered Arthur, laughing, and Arthur, shoving hot-dogs down his throat for some idiotic challenge, and Arthur, five, eight, eleven, thirteen, fifteen, Arthur, with his hair dirtied and tousled and uncharacteristically afraid.
Fifteen-year-old Arthur, of all things, was the one that stayed. Merlin desperately wished eight-year-old Arthur had stayed instead, pushing him across the breaking ice with gleeful laughter, the adrenaline running through Arthur's veins slipping into Merlin's where their hands connected.
Series
- Part 2 of and they weren't always the wrong person