#agent nova

Ayoo im p good just planning the murder for a hate dm reno just got-

Late Night Pep Talk

“Late night?” Charlie asked, a slight smirk on his face as he took in Merlin’s state of relative undress.

Merlin hadn’t expected to encounter anyone at that hour, but at least it was a slightly more familiar face. Still, he froze near the counter.

“It’s alright,” Charlie reassured him. “I’ll be out of here in a minute.” He returned his attention to the pot on the stove, stirring its contents slowly, tiredly.

“What’s that?” He detected subtle floral notes as he got closer.

“Not sure exactly. Helps her sleep, though,” Charlie shrugged.

“Eleanor?” Merlin questioned, opening the fridge for a bottle of water.

Charlie chuckled at the formal use of her name. “Yeah, for El.” He glanced back up at Merlin. “You seem to be settling in just fine here,” he commented. “Morgan has been in a great mood lately…”

“I…yeah,” Merlin smiled bashfully.

“I would’ve expected you to…avoid getting involved,” Charlie commented, pouring the liquid into a mug, using the wooden spoon to hold back whatever solids were in the pot.

“I did,” Merlin confessed. “For a little while, anyway.” Flashes of the moors entered Merlin’s mind and he did his best to push the more frightening aspects away.

“We’ve all got needs,” Charlie shrugged, placing the pot and spoon in the sink.

Merlin frowned at his dismissive tone. “Is that all this is for you? Satisfying needs? Is that what that’s for?” Merlin asked, gesturing to the mug in Charlie’s metal fingers. Charlie went pale. “Didn’t think so.”

“That’s not what I meant—” Charlie backpedaled, the realization sinking in.

Merlin smiled upon seeing the younger man scramble to explain himself. “It’s not anything to be frightened of. You’ve got to have something to come back to, something that makes you forget about the less savory parts of your day. And you’re doing that for her, too.”

Charlie set the mug down, mind spinning with the realization. He looked up to Merlin, a bit stunned. “How did I not know?”

“Were you avoiding it?” Merlin crossed his arms over his chest. “What did you think you were doing all this time? Playing at roommates?”

“I…” Charlie sighed, leaning up against the counter, arms crossed similarly over his chest, the metal casting a slight reflection on the nearby surfaces. “I just liked where I was, what I was doing—”

“And who you were doing it with,” Merlin clarified.

“I didn’t think about it.”

“Oh, don’t give me that. That’s why you’re up at…” he glanced down at his Kingsman standard issue watch, “…almost four in the morning, making her tea? The young man I met so long ago as a recruit certainly wouldn’t do anything of the sort. Not unless he was getting something out of it.”

Charlie pretended to find the structure of the bionic arm incredibly interesting. Merlin could practically hear the boy’s thoughts. Doubts. Downplaying everything.

“There’s nothing to prevent you from falling in love. It’s incredibly inconvenient at the best of times, and downright dangerous at the worst times,” Merlin spoke. “I should know,” he mumbled.

“What?” Charlie asked.

Merlin shook his head. Not now.

“So what do I do?” Charlie asked. “I can’t walk in there and just declare that I love her,” Charlie scoffed. “…Can I?” He asked, vulnerability peeking through.

Merlin only barely resisted laughing at him. “You do what you feel is right. If you need to table it for tonight, you do that. But don’t think for a second she’ll reject you. She somehow seems to adore you. I couldn’t explain it myself,” Merlin joked, watching Charlie’s smile slowly appear. “She’s much too good for you,” he reminded him.

“I know,” Charlie admitted.

“They always are,” Merlin sighed. “Just got to show them you care, and you seem to be doing a good job of that,” he added, gesturing to the mug on the counter. “Don’t panic when you go in there. Just be glad she’s giving you the time of day, eh?”

Charlie picked up the mug before meeting Merlin’s eyes. “Thanks for the late night pep talk.”

“Comes with the territory, I suppose,” Merlin shrugged. “G’night, Charlie.”

“Goodnight, sir.”

There it was, that unfailing respect. Merlin didn’t feel he deserved it, not in this setting. He was the one up to no good, after all, while Charlie was behaving responsibly. Still, it felt good to not be at work for a bit. Not to mention who he was spending his accrued vacation time with.

He headed up the stairs shortly after the conversation in the kitchen, pausing as he heard Charlie’s low voice.

“Sorry I took so long…I’ve got your tea.” The door shut behind him, any further words becoming muffled. Merlin finished ascending the stairs and pushed open the adjacent door, stepping into the darkness and closing the door behind him.

Soft hands found him as he slid back into bed. “Where did you go?”

“Just went downstairs for a drink. Get some rest, love.”

A comforting embrace took his mind off things and he fell into a relatively deep sleep.

He doesn’t get scared easily; not after years of seeing things like contorted spines and mangled limbs. Exorcisms prepare you for a certain type of fear. It’s a type of mentality Cillian has been able to readily prepare himself for -- the screaming, the violence, the inhumanity of it all.

But, aliens?

No, no, I’m sorry, that’s just not his cup of tea. Demons, sure, hell yeah. But two legged cryptids caught on home surveillance feeds? No.

He knew befriending Ellie and becoming the Mulder to her Scully was a bad idea. Judas knows now that when the sentence ”did you see that?” comes out of her mouth he already knows he is not about to deal with it.

Long legs kick himself up from the desk, eyes a bit wide with fear in the blue glow on the monitor set-up. Cillian exhales, stretching his legs as he paces across the room. Ellie, of course, has that wonderful excited smile blooming across her face (whether it’s because of the footage or because of his reaction, he’s not sure). 

“See, Cillian -- I told you, this neighborhood has had increased sightings of these things. They’re bipedals, but with no discernible exoskeleton or upper torso --”

“Ellie,” Cillian rubs his face, “Why? Did you drag me in here just to show me alien hoax tapes?”

“They’re not a hoax! The Frenso Nightcrawlers --”

“Oh, they have a name!” Cillian waves his arms, exhaling and beginning to pace again, “I need a tinfoil hat.”

“Stop being dramatic, Judas,” Ellie grins, “It’s just aliens.”

Just aliens.