Not, But Then Again (PG)
Title: Not, But Then Again
Author: justthismorning
Rating: PG
Pairing: Arthur/Merlin
Summary: In the early morning, Arthur takes inventory once again of all the flaws of his body, of all the ways he was born wrong. Transgender FTM
Warnings: This is not a true gender-swap, although I'm sure it will be categorized as one. So I guess I should warn for it?
A/N: I made this photo manip and I needed to write a story about it. Also, I just finished my Merlin Big Bang piece and I needed a break from all the fluff (and the freaking out that I've Americanized London beyond repair)


Arthur glared in the mirror and poked at his face. The skin of his cheek was too soft, too smooth despite the time he spent in the sun and wind. There should have been stubble. He should have been able to grow a beard. His finger trailed down to where his lower lip was too plump and sneered at his reflection. His hair needed to be cut again. It was growing long over his ears and falling into his eyes. It made him look too feminine. It made him look too obvious.

He dropped his hand even further so that his fingers could flex over his throat. Merlin’s Adam apple stood out proudly against the pale column of his throat. Arthur’s own throat was smooth, unblemished and Arthur flexed his fingers until he could feel the burn in his windpipe. He didn’t stay long – not like last time when Merlin had noticed the bruises and feathered his fingers over the only slightly tinted skin until Arthur finally told him what happened. Merlin had begged him to promise never to do it again. Arthur didn’t want to ever see that kind of hurt terror in Merlin’s eyes, not when Merlin had looked so sad and had whispered in a reverent voice, “But I love you anyway.”

He sighed when he released his grip. He didn’t want to examine any further down, didn’t want to examine the flaws of his body anymore, didn’t want to compare them to his ideal when he knew it was something he could never achieve. Instead, he let his hands drop to his side. He let his eyes flutter shut, glad that he couldn’t see the fan his over-long eyelashes made when they spread out across his skin.

The door opened behind him. He heard the soft swish of the air moving, the quiet click of the latch. There was a pause, a heartbeat of silence, then he could hear the door closing again and shuffling footsteps crossing the floor before a pair of arms came up around his waist.

“You’re not doing this again, are you?” Merlin’s voice asked beside his ear. Arthur sighed and pressed back against the flat heat of Merlin’s body. He sighed again when Merlin opened his palm along the soft curve of Arthur’s belly.

“I’m getting better,” he whispered back when Merlin’s other hand found Arthur’s hip and pulled him back so his arse was flush against Merlin. “I’m a little better.”

Merlin’s thumb soothed circles against the rough cotton of Arthur’s nightshirt. It wasn’t enough to tug or pull the fabric across his breasts, not this slow gentle rhythm. There was time for that, when they were both frenzied and hot and pulling at each other’s clothes until nothing remained but skin and sweat and the hard presses of Merlin’s mouth worshiping the secret places of Arthur’s body that Arthur was so ashamed of. No, now was not the time for that and Merlin’s movements hardly made any difference to the way the shirt fell, pushed out by his breasts and then curving around his hips.

“I’ll need my knife,” Arthur said at last and felt Merlin sigh in his shoulder. “See that it’s sharpened.”

“Are you training, or are we going hunting?”

Arthur leaned his head back until his ear was pressed to Merlin’s neck. Sometimes he wished he were taller. He sometimes wondered if things had been different – if he’d been born right – if they would be closer to the same height. For now, though, he was happy to be held in the warm circle of Merlin’s embrace, to be completely surrounded, even from above.

“I thought we could go hunting.”

Merlin’s head nodded and Arthur squeezed his eyes shut against the temptation to peek. Part of him wanted to see, wanted to see Merlin and know if it was the red neckerchief today or the blue. He wanted to see if Merlin had perhaps forgotten to tug the sleep tangles from his hair again.

“I’ll fetch your crossbow, too, then,” Merlin said at last and gave Arthur one last squeeze before releasing him and moving away gently, slowing extracting himself so that Arthur was able to steady himself before Merlin disentangled them completely. Arthur opened his eyes then. He had to. He needed to see that Merlin was okay with the whole servant role he played when the sun was shining and there was no cover of shadows to hide them. Merlin had Arthur’s breeches ready for him, along with the thick band of fabric Arthur so desperately hated needing, the band that he had wrapped around his chest every day since puberty to keep things flat the way they should have been.

“Come here,” Merlin said gently and Arthur went. He raised his arms so that Merlin could peel his nightshirt over his head. Merlin tossed it on the bed to be taken care of later, and tucked his fingers beneath Arthur’s chin to angle him up for a tender morning kiss. “Come on,” he said against Arthur’s mouth. “Let’s make you right.”