Title: Gingerbread Men are Difficult to Make
Recipient:
p3rfectlyn0rmal
Author:narlth
Rating: G
Pairing/s: Merlin/Arthur
Summary: A bit of Christmas baking, nothing can go wrong, right?
Warnings: none
Word Count: 1244
Author's Notes: It took me a little while to settle on a plot for you, but once I did, the boys just wanted to be saps. So I hope it's fluffy enough for you.
Disclaimer:Merlin is owned by the BBC and Shine. No copyright infringement is intended and no profit is being made. Don't send us to the dungeons.
Merlin wasn’t entirely sure what it was that had possessed Arthur that morning, but he couldn’t say that he thought it was a bad thing, it’s just not something Merlin has seen Arthur do than a couple of time. In fact if asked, Merlin would say he was rather enjoying this particular turn of events. After all Merlin never could say no to Christmas food.
The pair of them were currently in their kitchen, Christmas music blaring from the radio, while flour, egg, and other assorted ingredients covered almost every surface available.
There’s the bang as the oven door is shoved closed, and Arthur turns to Merlin.
“You’d better be setting a timer.” Arthur says as he straightens, laying his oven gloves in one of the few spaces clear of food stuffs.
“Of course, your highness” Merlin pokes his tongue out at Arthur as he fumbles with the timer.
He startles a moment later, blue eyes going wide, when a finger brushes a his cheek.
“You had some flour on your cheek.” Arthur says, freezing when Merlin’s gaze lands on him, his hand having withdrawn only mere centimetres.
Long fingers curl around Arthur’s wrist, tugging it down.
“And who’s fault would it be for that, hmm?” Merlin leans in, threading his fingers through Arthur’s.
Arthur’s brows furrow for a split second, his fingers twitching against Merlin’s.
“I have no idea what it is you’re trying to insinuate, I most certainly had nothing to do with you being messy.”
Cool air encircles Merlin’s fingers, as Arthur steps away crossing his arms over his chest.
“Oh, do you not?”
“Absolutely.”
Merlin can feel a smile threatening to cross his lips as he takes his own step back, left hand behind himself as he reaches out.
“Well in that case…” He all but leaps forward, hand outstretched so it collides perfectly with the centre of Arthur’s chest, and consequently his shirt.
His black shirt.
A bubble of laughter works it’s way out of Merlin’s throat as his hand drops, revealing a flour hand print.
Arthur stares down at the mess, his express completely blank, so Merlin feels a small spark of worry that he may have gone too far.
That is until white fills his own vision.
“Wha-” He splutters, as he wipes the back of his hand across his face. “Very funny Arthur.”
Merlin shakes his head, half expecting the new cloud of flour that forms as he does so.
Arthur barks a laugh at his, head falling forwards.
“You look like some sort of crap snowman.” Arthur's words are nearly swallowed up by his laughter.
“Alright, out of my way, I need to get cleaned up.” Ducking around a still laughing Arthur, Merlin heads into their longue, pretending to head towards the bathroom, only to double back towards boxes of as yet unused Christmas decorations.
Eyes, twinkling with mischief, Merlin grabs a couple of items, before he tiptoes back to the kitchen. Rather than going straight inside, Merlin peaks past the doorframe, eyes instantly seeking his target, who luckily or rather unluckily has his back turned.
Tiptoeing inside, Merlin inches closer to Arthur. Then in one quick move he whips his hands over Arthur’s head, and wraps a couple of strings of tinsel around him.
With nimble fingers Merlin ties the tinsel at Arthur’s back, sniggering at Arthur’s cry.
“Merlin!”
“You called?”
Arthur squirms, before he spins around.
“Untie me.” He was an expectant look on his face, as if he’s confident that Merlin will jump to follow his wishes.
Stroking his chin Merlin hums out a contemplative note, even going as ar to narrow his eyes.
Arthur looks like he could be a Christmas present himself, with the tinsel bowed neatly behind him. A present that Merlin wants to keep wrapped just that little bit longer, to properly relish the gift when it is unwrapped.
“You know what?” Merlin says, voice pensive, “I actually think I like you better like this.”
Merlin picks up a spoon from the counter, holding it between them for a few moments, before he presses it to Arthur’s nose.
The blob of icing that gets left behind when Merlin pulls the spoon away has Arthur going cross eyed as he tries to see it.
“Just you wait until I get out of this, Merlin.”
Arthur’s glaring, but Merlin knows there’s no heat behind it. So instead of being cowed, he leans in and licks most of the icing away.
“Better?” Merlin whispers low, close enough he can feel Arthur’s breath on his face.
Arthur’s eyes darken, their foreheads pressing together. Merlin bums his nose against Arthur’s not caring about the remains of the icing, or that he’s getting flour all over Arthur’s hair.
They stand for a moment, the cheery notes, of Rudolph the Red nosed Reindeer washing over them, along with the distant patter of snowfall.
Arthur’s a solid form, compared to Merlin’s more lithe one, but together they make a perfect pair.
Eyes slipping closed Merlin presses his lips against Arthur’s for just a second, enjoying the soft yield.
When he pulls away Arthur’s eyes are still closed, and there’s an expression of complete contentment that Merlin cannot resist. Stepping right into Arthur’s space, Merlin pulls him in for a hug.
“Merry Christmas, Arthur.” He mutters the words into the fabric covering Arthur’s shoulder, “and I’ll let you go if you promise not to seek revenge.”
He feels more than hears the hum Arthur makes, but before he has a chance to, </i>obviously agree to Merlin’s suggestion</i>, the smell of burning hits them.
“You didn’t set the timer did you?”
“Umm, I might have been distracted by a certain prat.”
“Well don’t just stand there making excuses, get them out!” Arthur’s hands are clenched uselessly at his sides, trapped there but his tinsel prison.
“Yes, alright.” Merlin grabs for the oven gloves, in his hash, almost slipping on a patch of egg.
As he opens the oven door, steam, and just a small amount of smoke billows out, and Merlin is forced to look away, lest he be blinded.
It takes him two tries to get ahold of the tray, but once he does he places it on top of the cooker.
“Well, it looks like they’re only a little over done.” Merlin pokes one finger at the gingerbread feeling it give just a tiny amount. “What do you think?”
Merlin looks over to Arthur, expecting him to join him, surprised when he doesn’t.
“Arthur?”
“You’ll have to feed them to me yourself if you want my opinion.”
Merlin rolls his eyes, but shaking his head, carefully, the biscuits are still hot after all, picks one up.
Feeding the snowman shaped biscuit to Arthur is easy, only a few errant crumbs escaping, but even so Merlin finds himself holding his breath as the blond chews. On tender hooks to find out if his neglecting the timer has ruined the batch or not.
“They’re,” the corners of Arthur’s mouth turn down for a moment.,”they’re perfect good, Merlin. A little icing and no one would ever know you left them just a little too long.”
Merlin exhales, pulling Arthur back into a hug.
“Just for that, I’ll set you free.” As he says it Merlin tugs a bow, hands already in place to set Arthur free.
The moment he, is Arthur wraps his arms round Merlin, squeezing back.
“Merry Christmas to you too, Merlin.”
Recipient:
p3rfectlyn0rmalAuthor:
narlthRating: G
Pairing/s: Merlin/Arthur
Summary: A bit of Christmas baking, nothing can go wrong, right?
Warnings: none
Word Count: 1244
Author's Notes: It took me a little while to settle on a plot for you, but once I did, the boys just wanted to be saps. So I hope it's fluffy enough for you.
Disclaimer:Merlin is owned by the BBC and Shine. No copyright infringement is intended and no profit is being made. Don't send us to the dungeons.
Merlin wasn’t entirely sure what it was that had possessed Arthur that morning, but he couldn’t say that he thought it was a bad thing, it’s just not something Merlin has seen Arthur do than a couple of time. In fact if asked, Merlin would say he was rather enjoying this particular turn of events. After all Merlin never could say no to Christmas food.
The pair of them were currently in their kitchen, Christmas music blaring from the radio, while flour, egg, and other assorted ingredients covered almost every surface available.
There’s the bang as the oven door is shoved closed, and Arthur turns to Merlin.
“You’d better be setting a timer.” Arthur says as he straightens, laying his oven gloves in one of the few spaces clear of food stuffs.
“Of course, your highness” Merlin pokes his tongue out at Arthur as he fumbles with the timer.
He startles a moment later, blue eyes going wide, when a finger brushes a his cheek.
“You had some flour on your cheek.” Arthur says, freezing when Merlin’s gaze lands on him, his hand having withdrawn only mere centimetres.
Long fingers curl around Arthur’s wrist, tugging it down.
“And who’s fault would it be for that, hmm?” Merlin leans in, threading his fingers through Arthur’s.
Arthur’s brows furrow for a split second, his fingers twitching against Merlin’s.
“I have no idea what it is you’re trying to insinuate, I most certainly had nothing to do with you being messy.”
Cool air encircles Merlin’s fingers, as Arthur steps away crossing his arms over his chest.
“Oh, do you not?”
“Absolutely.”
Merlin can feel a smile threatening to cross his lips as he takes his own step back, left hand behind himself as he reaches out.
“Well in that case…” He all but leaps forward, hand outstretched so it collides perfectly with the centre of Arthur’s chest, and consequently his shirt.
His black shirt.
A bubble of laughter works it’s way out of Merlin’s throat as his hand drops, revealing a flour hand print.
Arthur stares down at the mess, his express completely blank, so Merlin feels a small spark of worry that he may have gone too far.
That is until white fills his own vision.
“Wha-” He splutters, as he wipes the back of his hand across his face. “Very funny Arthur.”
Merlin shakes his head, half expecting the new cloud of flour that forms as he does so.
Arthur barks a laugh at his, head falling forwards.
“You look like some sort of crap snowman.” Arthur's words are nearly swallowed up by his laughter.
“Alright, out of my way, I need to get cleaned up.” Ducking around a still laughing Arthur, Merlin heads into their longue, pretending to head towards the bathroom, only to double back towards boxes of as yet unused Christmas decorations.
Eyes, twinkling with mischief, Merlin grabs a couple of items, before he tiptoes back to the kitchen. Rather than going straight inside, Merlin peaks past the doorframe, eyes instantly seeking his target, who luckily or rather unluckily has his back turned.
Tiptoeing inside, Merlin inches closer to Arthur. Then in one quick move he whips his hands over Arthur’s head, and wraps a couple of strings of tinsel around him.
With nimble fingers Merlin ties the tinsel at Arthur’s back, sniggering at Arthur’s cry.
“Merlin!”
“You called?”
Arthur squirms, before he spins around.
“Untie me.” He was an expectant look on his face, as if he’s confident that Merlin will jump to follow his wishes.
Stroking his chin Merlin hums out a contemplative note, even going as ar to narrow his eyes.
Arthur looks like he could be a Christmas present himself, with the tinsel bowed neatly behind him. A present that Merlin wants to keep wrapped just that little bit longer, to properly relish the gift when it is unwrapped.
“You know what?” Merlin says, voice pensive, “I actually think I like you better like this.”
Merlin picks up a spoon from the counter, holding it between them for a few moments, before he presses it to Arthur’s nose.
The blob of icing that gets left behind when Merlin pulls the spoon away has Arthur going cross eyed as he tries to see it.
“Just you wait until I get out of this, Merlin.”
Arthur’s glaring, but Merlin knows there’s no heat behind it. So instead of being cowed, he leans in and licks most of the icing away.
“Better?” Merlin whispers low, close enough he can feel Arthur’s breath on his face.
Arthur’s eyes darken, their foreheads pressing together. Merlin bums his nose against Arthur’s not caring about the remains of the icing, or that he’s getting flour all over Arthur’s hair.
They stand for a moment, the cheery notes, of Rudolph the Red nosed Reindeer washing over them, along with the distant patter of snowfall.
Arthur’s a solid form, compared to Merlin’s more lithe one, but together they make a perfect pair.
Eyes slipping closed Merlin presses his lips against Arthur’s for just a second, enjoying the soft yield.
When he pulls away Arthur’s eyes are still closed, and there’s an expression of complete contentment that Merlin cannot resist. Stepping right into Arthur’s space, Merlin pulls him in for a hug.
“Merry Christmas, Arthur.” He mutters the words into the fabric covering Arthur’s shoulder, “and I’ll let you go if you promise not to seek revenge.”
He feels more than hears the hum Arthur makes, but before he has a chance to, </i>obviously agree to Merlin’s suggestion</i>, the smell of burning hits them.
“You didn’t set the timer did you?”
“Umm, I might have been distracted by a certain prat.”
“Well don’t just stand there making excuses, get them out!” Arthur’s hands are clenched uselessly at his sides, trapped there but his tinsel prison.
“Yes, alright.” Merlin grabs for the oven gloves, in his hash, almost slipping on a patch of egg.
As he opens the oven door, steam, and just a small amount of smoke billows out, and Merlin is forced to look away, lest he be blinded.
It takes him two tries to get ahold of the tray, but once he does he places it on top of the cooker.
“Well, it looks like they’re only a little over done.” Merlin pokes one finger at the gingerbread feeling it give just a tiny amount. “What do you think?”
Merlin looks over to Arthur, expecting him to join him, surprised when he doesn’t.
“Arthur?”
“You’ll have to feed them to me yourself if you want my opinion.”
Merlin rolls his eyes, but shaking his head, carefully, the biscuits are still hot after all, picks one up.
Feeding the snowman shaped biscuit to Arthur is easy, only a few errant crumbs escaping, but even so Merlin finds himself holding his breath as the blond chews. On tender hooks to find out if his neglecting the timer has ruined the batch or not.
“They’re,” the corners of Arthur’s mouth turn down for a moment.,”they’re perfect good, Merlin. A little icing and no one would ever know you left them just a little too long.”
Merlin exhales, pulling Arthur back into a hug.
“Just for that, I’ll set you free.” As he says it Merlin tugs a bow, hands already in place to set Arthur free.
The moment he, is Arthur wraps his arms round Merlin, squeezing back.
“Merry Christmas to you too, Merlin.”
7 comments | Leave a comment