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Merlin doesn’t think he’s seen such a damning case of stupidity since the 13th century.
The current clotpole had just narrowly avoided bleeding out on his own damn medical cot, unconscious. Merlin was going to fucking kill him.
Seriously, the 13th century may have been a wild time, but men didn’t go around dressed as bats in the name of their parents trying to seek “justice.” It almost made him miss Arthur’s old antics.
Ridiculous. Utterly Ridiculous.
At least this man didn’t make him clean up after horses; Merlin thanked whatever was left of old magic for those new cars— well, when he ignored the terrible effects they had on pollution (which was quite hard, having seen the rather poor state of this particular city. The stars just don’t shine as bright as they used to).
The man groaned, apparently fluttering into consciousness. “Alfred—”
“Awake, are we? Would you like some waffles with those bullet holes, sir?” Merlin chuckled internally, knowing his sense of humour was light-years beyond the other man’s. (Get it, years?)
“How much morphine do you have in me? Up it.” Bruce Wayne demanded.
“Didn’t I ever tell you morphine is for men who don’t try to die in battle?” Merlin rolled his eyes. “You take far too much advantage of modern medicine, Master Wayne.”
“I definitely feel like I’m taking far too little advantage of modern medicine, Alfred.”
Merlin sighs and ups the dose to just barely within safe parameters.
Ridiculous.
“Thank God your sense of humour survived, sir, I’m not sure what we would’ve done without it.”
A giggle sounded behind Merlin, to which he turned towards with an eyebrow raised. “And hot chocolate is for boys who go to bed when they’re told.”
“But Al—”
“Strict bed rest.” Merlin paused for a moment, looking at the young man’s pleading face. “And then I may be persuaded otherwise.”
The boy beamed, and Merlin half-worried he would start doing cartwheels on his sprained ankle. “Can we take our bed rest in the theater room?”
“We?” Bruce said. “I have meetings in the—”
“Splendid idea, Master Grayson.” Merlin smirked cheekily and winked at the boy. “Perhaps you could prepare the blankets while I ensure Master Bruce does not collapse on his way?”
Bruce rolled his eyes at their antics.
“Thanks, Al!” Dick yelled in their direction, already hustling off as fast as his sprained ankle would allow— and Merlin didn’t allow handstands on the cave’s floor or near breakable objects, so that was out of the question.
Merlin may have centuries of experience at medicinal cures and cleaning, but bats were still nasty.
Bruce flopped down on the cushion next to Dick with a groan. Dick rolled his eyes and threw a piece of popcorn at him, hitting his target squarely between his eyes. Bruce looked at him with a mischievous grin and tossed the same popcorn back, hitting his ward in the ear.
“Hey—”
Merlin chose that moment to come in. “I do hope we’ve learned our lesson and aren’t throwing more projectiles at each other?”
The duo looked at him with equally guilty grins. Merlin pretended to sigh and set down the tray of hot chocolate in front of them. “Whatever shall I do with the two of you.”
Dick giggles. “C’mon, Alf! We’ve got plenty of seats! Sit!”
Merlin hesitated.
Bruce cleared his throat, looking back at the TV and away from Merlin. “If you’ve got other things to do I understand, Alf. But there’s always been a seat for you if you want it.”
It was nice to be wanted.
Merlin raised an eyebrow. “I suppose someone needs to make sure the two of you are resting.”
Dick laughed, and Merlin watched as Bruce smoothly grabbed the boy’s hot chocolate to keep it from spilling. The man has certainly grown up well, whether it was by Merlin’s hand or not.
“Yeah B, learn to dodge better,” Dick teased, grabbing back his drink.
“Oh, he’s not the only one, Master Grayson,” Merlin said. “Although, maybe I can hope next time you won’t try to balance on top of precariously placed tripwire whilst running from Ms. Selina’s panther in the middle of a criminal deal without thinking twice.”
Dick began to defend himself. “It was the only—”
“It was not the only option.” rebutted Bruce and Merlin, simultaneous.
Dick harrumphed into his cocoa. “At least it wasn’t Hatter’s marbles this time.”
This is why Merlin wasn’t going to sit with them.
Dick’s smile returned when Merlin sat down, grabbing a cup of hot chocolate for himself and dropping in a few marshmallows with a dramatically worn-out sigh.
Merlin smiled into his cup, enjoying himself as Master Bruce and young Dick squabbled over what to watch. He took in the moment, appreciating the duo’s banter. It felt familiar, despite the rather short time he’s known either of them. Well, it seemed short to him.
He really was quite old… Not that he would be telling anyone how old.
The two finally settled on a movie, some movie about a spider coming home. It was beyond him why people would make a movie about a spider of all things, but he supposed people had been telling stories about things odder than spiders since before he was around.
Merlin had lived through some pretty damn odd ‘stories’ himself: he had fought against witches, bandits, curses, and people pelting him with rotten fruit. Fortunately for Merlin, not many people used such cruel methods anymore.
These days, not many people had access to magic, but Merlin knew it still lingered. In moments like these, he knew it was still out there.
Sometimes he still saw his old friends, friends from before immortality, in the people he made company with today. He’d seen Gwaine in a fair few bar fights, Guinevere in doctors like Leslie Thompkins. Occasionally, he even saw men as protective as Percival and as dedicated as Elyan.
In his current companions, he could almost see Bruce as a young Morgana and Dick as an even younger Mordred. Some nights, he could only pray he was not forcing them to fall into such dark evil as he had done before. Such dreadful nights typically came after Bruce came home from patrol, having failed to make as much progress as he saw fit, or when Dick burst out in anger that taking him from that circus ruined his life.
Not this one. On this night, he knew these two young men would be better than fine; they might be among the greatest people he ever knew.
Merlin smiled to himself as the credits began playing, not having paid attention to a single moment of the movie. The two vigilantes (and such an odd new word) both lay peacefully asleep on the couch, hot chocolate long gone and tenseness out of their bodies.
Merlin quite enjoyed modern life— even if dragons were faster than sports cars.