Title: Talking is Overrated
Summary: Arthur has tried to resist Merlin but finds that he no longer wishes to do so.
Warnings: a big pile of fluffiness
Prompt 248: We Need to Talk
A/N: A sequel to last week’s drabble: More Isn't An Option
Disclaimer: Merlin characters are the property of Shine and BBC. No profit is being made, and no copyright infringement is intended.
Arthur groans as he hears movement outside his bedchamber. Merlin has arrived with all the airs and graces of the idiot servant he is, knocking over a chair it sounds like, and letting out a yelp of pain after no doubt running into the table, which he does on a daily basis.
Arthur cracks a grin. He is exhausted and dreads having to face the day ahead with little sleep—his father will be an absolute bear after the events of the past few weeks with the debacle of marrying the troll, and he will no doubt assign Arthur some asinine responsibility to show that he is the king and that he is in complete control of his domain—but as is always the case these days when Arthur finds the duties of his station in life too cumbersome, all he need do is think of his quirky servant, Merlin, and things seem to right themselves, if not literally, figuratively.
Arthur thinks he might burst if he can’t kiss those full lips and plunder that delectable mouth, but he can’t. He won’t. He is the heir to the throne, which means he has responsibilities. Yes, he could take Merlin as his lover and that would be perfectly acceptable, but Arthur doesn’t want to take Merlin on as his lover.
Arthur wants more.
Another crash. Another yelp. Arthur rolls his eyes. “How is anyone to sleep with you carrying on out there as if you’d been drinking in the tavern all night. You haven’t been drinking in the tavern all night, have you?” he adds, half-jokingly.
“Sorry, Sire,” Merlin replies as he pulls open the bed curtains and gives Arthur his usual goofy good morning grin. “The rains have come early and the castle is darker than usual this morning,” he says jovially.
Arthur has to bite his retort of Yet you are the only one who runs into things even when the sun is bright in the sky. He instead matches Merlin’s grin. “My father has called a special council meeting this morning, so training will have to be pushed back. You need to go see about the new swords that are being forged. Father wants them ready for the next tournament,” he adds as he reluctantly forces himself to push back the covers. “I do hope cook has not been finicky this morning. I am famished,” he says as Merlin stares at him with an odd look. It unsettles Arthur and he is momentarily unsure what to do.
“She has been ill, Sire, and her replacement wasn’t apprised of how much you like to hoard in the mornings, but cook is back so all is well with Prince Arthur’s world,” he adds cheekily.
Arthur retrieves his pillow and throws it at Merlin, who dodges it with a coy impish look. “You can’t talk to me that way, Merlin,” he adds, but nothing in his voice backs up his words. Yes, insolence is most unbecoming, not to mention treasonous, especially when directed at him, but there is something about Merlin’s sheer disregard for whom he is speaking to that is refreshing and exhilarating to Arthur and makes his want for Merlin all the more real.
A brief huge fake grin later Merlin begins retrieving dirty clothing from the floor.
After eating, Arthur removes his sleeping breeches and steps into the trousers Merlin has handed him as he looks oddly at the tunic Merlin has retrieved. It is blue and a bit more fancy and ornate than the usual daily tunic he wears. Arthur doesn’t recall seeing it before. It looks rather too sheer to wear during the day. “Where did this come from?” he asks as he places his arms through the sleeve holes.
Merlin smiles as he lowers the shirt, and after Arthur pulls up his trousers Merlin begins to buckle the belt. “Morgana gave it to me yesterday. Said something about a bet the two of you made and she won. I think her exact words were, ‘Let’s see what our prince thinks after a day in this shirt of sex.’” He let out a chuckle.
“Shut up, Merlin,’ Arthur grouses out, but he has lost the bet so he really has no choice but to wear the tunic, and as he has training after lunch he won’t have to be in it long, but one second is really too long he thinks as he watches Merlin trying not to laugh. “If you must know, I told her the other night at the banquet that she must enjoy all the attention she gets from the visiting nobility. She didn’t take that well and started in about how men only see her as a sexual object. She made a bet with me and well, here I am. She wants me to see how it feels to be ogled because of what I’m wearing.”
“Hm, well…” but whatever a grinning Merlin has to say he keeps it to himself.
“Well what?” Arthur asks impatiently, but he doesn’t need to ask what Merlin is thinking as Merlin continues to look at him as if he is a feast ready to be devoured. Arthur opens his mouth to tell Merlin they need to talk, but then he decides that talking is overrated. He is young and has years before he has to worry about marrying. He has needs and, oh yes, Merlin is that need. It is completely foolish and he will no doubt regret his actions soon enough, but for now he will live in the moment.
He swallows. “I am about to kiss you. If you do not want that tell me now, Merlin, because I don’t want to start this if you are going to make me stop.”
Merlin says nothing, but nods.
It is all the invitation Arthur needs. He takes Merlin in his arms and kisses him. It is bliss. It is heaven. It is everything Arthur thought it would be.