fic: praeludium
Mar. 17th, 2009 08:10 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
glass_icarus....... okay, so I CAVED and cut my original story to itty bitty pieces, to be (mostly) rewritten. More to come later!
Title: praeludium
Fandom: Merlin
Rating: G
Characters/Pairing: Merlin/Arthur (pre-slash)
Summary: Guitar-boy!Merlin AU, first meetings.
Arthur waits impatiently for the subway, the sticky remnants of sweat prickling damp and not-quite-cool on his skin. The smell here in the summer is unbearable, but not as much as the heat wave outside.
He turns at the sound of a guitar, low and sweet and harmonious, unlike the pretentious and/or talentless bastards that generally assail his ears. Without thinking, he pushes through the crowd, following the music until he reaches its source: a thin, dark-haired boy, his skin moon-pale and un-freckled, long graceful fingers curling easily over the strings. The boy looks up at his approach, smiling faintly; surprised, Arthur feels the corner of his mouth slant up. Blue eyes, he thinks, apropos of nothing. Sky-blue, sea-blue; deep and shining and full of secrets.
He waits silently for the boy to finish, the song classical and vaguely familiar. "Albeniz?" he says.
The boy's eyebrows arch, startled. "Yeah," he replies. His voice sounds much like his guitar, Arthur thinks: low, sweet, harmonious. "It was originally written for-"
"- the piano," Arthur finishes.
The boy smiles, slow and delighted, a dimple flashing in his left cheek. "Yes."
He holds out his hand without knowing why. "I'm Arthur."
"Merlin." Merlin's fingers are cool and callused, his grip firm. Arthur shivers.
The metallic rumble-screech of the train arriving sends a cool blast of air over them, ruffling Merlin's dark curls and lifting the damp hair at the nape of Arthur's neck. "I have to go," Arthur says, somewhat regretfully.
Merlin's free hand taps gently against his guitar, one-two-three-four, one-two-three-four. "I'll see you around, then," he says.
"I guess so," Arthur replies doubtfully, unwilling to disagree. He gets on the train, watches through the smudged window as Columbus Circle- and Merlin, but he is not thinking about that- disappears from his sight. The feeling of dexterous fingers sliding through his own lingers in Arthur's memory for the rest of the day.
Title: praeludium
Fandom: Merlin
Rating: G
Characters/Pairing: Merlin/Arthur (pre-slash)
Summary: Guitar-boy!Merlin AU, first meetings.
Arthur waits impatiently for the subway, the sticky remnants of sweat prickling damp and not-quite-cool on his skin. The smell here in the summer is unbearable, but not as much as the heat wave outside.
He turns at the sound of a guitar, low and sweet and harmonious, unlike the pretentious and/or talentless bastards that generally assail his ears. Without thinking, he pushes through the crowd, following the music until he reaches its source: a thin, dark-haired boy, his skin moon-pale and un-freckled, long graceful fingers curling easily over the strings. The boy looks up at his approach, smiling faintly; surprised, Arthur feels the corner of his mouth slant up. Blue eyes, he thinks, apropos of nothing. Sky-blue, sea-blue; deep and shining and full of secrets.
He waits silently for the boy to finish, the song classical and vaguely familiar. "Albeniz?" he says.
The boy's eyebrows arch, startled. "Yeah," he replies. His voice sounds much like his guitar, Arthur thinks: low, sweet, harmonious. "It was originally written for-"
"- the piano," Arthur finishes.
The boy smiles, slow and delighted, a dimple flashing in his left cheek. "Yes."
He holds out his hand without knowing why. "I'm Arthur."
"Merlin." Merlin's fingers are cool and callused, his grip firm. Arthur shivers.
The metallic rumble-screech of the train arriving sends a cool blast of air over them, ruffling Merlin's dark curls and lifting the damp hair at the nape of Arthur's neck. "I have to go," Arthur says, somewhat regretfully.
Merlin's free hand taps gently against his guitar, one-two-three-four, one-two-three-four. "I'll see you around, then," he says.
"I guess so," Arthur replies doubtfully, unwilling to disagree. He gets on the train, watches through the smudged window as Columbus Circle- and Merlin, but he is not thinking about that- disappears from his sight. The feeling of dexterous fingers sliding through his own lingers in Arthur's memory for the rest of the day.
