Destinies Collide

Bonding Morning

A/N: Some credit for the questions in this chapter goes to my friend Tam, as well as readers Falcrow and bluemoldpenicillin in AO3, and my friend Nay gets the credit for one of the answers, for reasons XD Enjoy!

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November 29th, 1988

Harry really doesn't feel like waking up. Sometime during the night he'd rolled off of Merlin and ended up tucked into his side instead, face still pressed into his shirt and an arm thrown over his chest, and way too cosy to move. Waking up will mean more talking and he really doesn't want to cry any more, not so soon after last night.

He stayed, he realises slowly, blinking his eyes open and moving his head slightly to look up as if to make sure Merlin's still there.

His eyes widen when they meet the soft blue gaze aimed back at him, making it obvious that his dad – he is still his dad, even if he's not just Mr Wright anymore, he said so – had been awake already. "Good morning little sleepyhead," he says softly when Harry quickly hides his face again, as if not seeing him means he can't tell he's awake yet. "Feel like waking up yet?" He feels the arm around his back bend up so the hand can reach his hair and the light brush over his hair just makes him press his face into Merlin's shirt further with a wordless grunt of disagreement.

Awake is bad, his brain decides and he doesn't really disagree.

Merlin chuckles and it makes his chest move, and with it Harry's arm, so he lets out a small annoyed whine to tell him to stop that. From the short laugh that answers him, it doesn't work.

"Alright, I think you can afford to miss a day of school," he's told a moment later.

Oh, right, school! "'M I late?" he mumbles, voice slightly muffled by fabric.

"Not yet, but maybe it's for the best if we take a little day off to talk things out properly," Merlin says, making him almost want to go to class. "I'll call and tell them you have a stomach bug or something," he adds, trying to start sitting up, but Harry refuses to move himself or his arm. He doesn't wanna talk, just sleep. "I'll be right back, déore." He leans over to press a kiss to Harry's head and it makes him give up on his quest to never move again with a sigh, turning over and hugging a pillow to his chest instead.

With his eyes still closed, he feels it when Merlin gets off the bed but isn't even awake enough to hear it when the door closes behind him. When they open again, it's because of the smell of bacon – which is closer than usual – doing the job of making him want to get up better than his alarm clock ever did, and when he turns his head toward the door he sees Merlin closing it behind him with a push of his shoulder while carrying a tray. That explains why the smell is in his room.

"'S that breakfast?" Harry asks, already starting to sit up.

He gets a small smile for it, "I thought we could eat and talk," Merlin replies, moving his alarm clock down from the bedside table to leave the tray on top of it before tidying the covers over the bed, and Harry notices he's got sleep clothes on instead of work ones. "I figured you could ask me questions?" the last part comes out more unsure than he's ever heard him be.

That's another difference, Harry thinks. Mr Wright always seemed so sure of everything, even when it was about magic, but Merlin, who should be even more confident – he's been alive for longer after all, probably knows much more stuff – sounds more unsure about things than Mr Wright ever did sometimes. Maybe it's only when it's about Harry? but he doesn't want to think about that. Nope, what he wants is some bacon.