Merlin walked across the warehouse, ignoring the slugs Arthur was pumping into him.
They tore at his trench coat and suit, but they were only scratches, no gun could hurt Merlin.
He stopped in front of Arthur, waiting for the blonde to say something- anything.
“Who are you?” Arthur asks, voice hoarse and tense, holding his gun to ward off Merlin.
Merlin smiles, something that resembles a grimace as the lights flickered sparks onto his shoulders.
“I’m the one who held on and ripped you from hell, Arthur.” Merlin states, looking somewhat wary of Arthur, who was advancing on him with a sharp fragment of Excalibur.
“Yeah?” Arthur sneers, mouth curling into a smirk. “Thanks for that.” He leans forward and plunges the knife into Merlin’s chest.
Merlin looks down, then back up at Arthur’s shocked face.
“Tisk. Tisk, Arthur. That was rather rude.” Merlin states, pulling the knife out and dropping it on the floor. “We need to talk, Arthur.” He says, as gently as he can. “Alone.” He finishes, finding slight amusement in Arthur’s face.
“Are you trying to come on to me?” Arthur deflects nastily.
Merlin looks puzzled and confused at the statement, and Arthur rolls his eyes.
Merlin turns and stands in the corner, reaching into his pocket for a cigarette and lighting it, casting a bored expression at Arthur.
“Who are you?” Arthur repeats, panic edged in his voice.
“Merlin.” Merlin states simply, drawing another lungful of smoke into his mouth.
“Fuck off. What are you?” Arthur tries again, rising to his feet and facing Merlin.
Merlin turns to Arthur, lifting an eyebrow and exhales his smoke. “I’m an angel of the Lord.”
Arthur looks him up and down, disbelief and a little disgust in his eyes. “Fuck off. There’s no such things as angels.”
Merlin walks into the middle of the warehouse, staring Arthur in the eyes.
The lights flicker on behind him.
“This is your problem, Arthur.” Merlin states, “You have no faith.”
The angel closes his eyes and rolls his shoulders back, and when he opens his eyes, Merlin can see the wonder and panic ringed in Arthur’s eyes as he takes in the sight of large, black shadows of wings cast behind Merlin.
Merlin snaps his fingers and the lights cuts back off.
“Well,” Arthur states after taking in the shock for a minute. “You’re a pretty fucking bad angel, you know.”
“I’m sorry.” Merlin apologizes, looking down briefly.
“Look, mate, you full of shit. Who are you really?” Arthur asks after a pause, anger in his voice.
Merlin cocks his head and looks puzzles. “I told you.”
Arthur flinches, and Merlin can see the self-loathing cross his features. “Right. And what would an angel want with me?” He gestures down at himself, hatred in his face. “Why would you rescue me from hell?” Sarcasm and pain drip into his voice.
Merlin studies the man, stepping so close that they’re foot-to-foot and nose-to-nose. “Good things do happen, Arthur.”
“Not to me.” The man whispers, looking Merlin up and down again.
“What’s the matter?” Merlin asks, tilting his head. He pauses. “You don’t think you deserve to be saved.” He realizes, taking a small step away.
Arthur lowers his gaze. “I don’t.” He whispers. “Why’d you do it?” He asks, looking back up, voice regaining it’s cocky and angry tone.
“Because God commanded it.”
Arthur’s jaw clenches.
“Because we have work for you.”
Arthur takes a step back, looking like he’s about to punch Merlin.
“Because,” Merlin tries, for the final time, “We’re two sides of the same coin. Me and you, Arthur Pendragon.”