Merlin laughs at that, he laughs because you've never been normal is a funny thing to say -- even with the amendment. He laughs because Lancelot wants to protect him, and Merlin doesn't know if he can but he loves that he wants to try.
"Thank you," he says, and squirms to slip over Lancelot's lap -- throws his arms around him and hangs on as if his life depends on it. "Thank you. You've always been amazing too."
He didn't quite mean how it sounded, so he hopes that Merlin will accept it for a compliment anyway. He meant it as one!
Lancelot's own smile brightens as Merlin moves to his lap. The festival could go on the rest of the night without him, as far as he's concerned. They should probably get back to it eventually. When their moment is over. This is important. It doesn't feel earth shattering. The weight of it all probably hasn't settled.
"I love you," he says as a promise, as the truth, as everything it could ever possibly mean. "And I meant it when I said you don't have to keep secrets from me." Please, keep him in the loop from now on.
"I know, I'm sorry. No more secrets." Merlin swallows back guilt, nuzzles at Lancelot's neck affectionately before drawing back to meet his eyes -- reaching to gently stroke his face. "I love you too," he adds, and his eyes flash gold for a second before he smiles slowly, letting the weight of his feelings wash out over Lancelot. Relief, hope, fear faintly underneath, complete and utter adoration for the man in front of him. Everything that he is. Everything between them.
The glow of Merlin's eyes are absolutely beautiful. Before they'd always been a source of near poetry for Lancelot. Now it's more of a source of wonder. Does that always happen when Merlin uses his magic? And how did he not manage to see it before? He must be an expert at hiding it.
He's ready to say something in return when the most bizarre thing happens. He feels something. These are definitely not his own feelings. Relief is a strong one. Fear isn't one he had at all. Love and hope, however, he did. Differently. It's like he knows exactly what Merlin is thinking without hearing any words. It crashes over him like a wave. He's left wide eyed and blinking after as his own mind tries to catch up from it all.
"... Can you do that again?"
He's not sure how much control there is over the emotional part. And, maybe, he'd really like to feel exactly what his husband does a thousand times over.
"Of course," Merlin says, and he bumps their foreheads together before leaning in -- eyes flashing gold again even as they close and he brushes their lips together. His pleasure flows into Lancelot, hope and adoration drowning out the last of his fear until there's none at all left. His fingers cradle the back of Lancelot's neck, and every moment up until now that Merlin thought he could not possibly love the man more pales in comparison to this. To how easily he accepts him, encourages him, is not afraid of what he is at all.
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"Thank you," he says, and squirms to slip over Lancelot's lap -- throws his arms around him and hangs on as if his life depends on it. "Thank you. You've always been amazing too."
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Lancelot's own smile brightens as Merlin moves to his lap. The festival could go on the rest of the night without him, as far as he's concerned. They should probably get back to it eventually. When their moment is over. This is important. It doesn't feel earth shattering. The weight of it all probably hasn't settled.
"I love you," he says as a promise, as the truth, as everything it could ever possibly mean. "And I meant it when I said you don't have to keep secrets from me." Please, keep him in the loop from now on.
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He's ready to say something in return when the most bizarre thing happens. He feels something. These are definitely not his own feelings. Relief is a strong one. Fear isn't one he had at all. Love and hope, however, he did. Differently. It's like he knows exactly what Merlin is thinking without hearing any words. It crashes over him like a wave. He's left wide eyed and blinking after as his own mind tries to catch up from it all.
"... Can you do that again?"
He's not sure how much control there is over the emotional part. And, maybe, he'd really like to feel exactly what his husband does a thousand times over.
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