Pairing/s: Merlin & Arthur
Character/s: Merlin, Arthur
Summary: Merlin was so clumsy but Arthur wouldn't have it any other way.
Word Count: 425
Prompt:#251 Perfectly imperfect
Author's Notes: none
Disclaimer: I do not own the BBC version of Merlin; It and Shine do. I am very respectfully borrowing them with no intent to profit. No money has changed hands. No copyright infringement is intended.
When the clatter of falling metal crashed through the door, Arthur tried hard not to laugh. He knew what he'd find on the other side – Merlin sprawled on the floor and a scatter of unpolished armour around him, shields and Arthur's chainmail, and a breast plate or two.
Unbelievable clumsy, tripping over his own feet as often as he breathed, Merlin couldn't be left to his own devices no matter how much he protested that he was perfectly capable, thank you very much. More than once, Arthur berated his imperfect idiot for it, mocking him endlessly, but Merlin and Merlin's incompetence were constants in Arthur's life and he'd grown used to it and him, even looking forward to the daily absurdity.
Opening the door, crossing his arms across his chest as he leaned against the door jamb, Arthur stared down at his wayward servant. As Merlin looked up, Arthur raised one eyebrow, making sure Merlin saw it. On cue, Merlin flushed, then biting his lip, scowled back, muttering under his breath about prats and princes and how he was always so put-upon and overworked.
It was just ridiculous, so Merlin, that Arthur had to choke back another laugh. But he did nothing, just watched as Merlin picked up – and dropped – Arthur's now-dented shield, Merlin scrambling along the stone floor after it as it slid down the hallway.
Arthur's chest was hurting from the suppressed laughter, but he managed to keep it all in. But he did watch Merlin tripping and sputtering and generally making a complete fool of himself.
It took a few moments, but Merlin finally gathered everything up and pushed past Arthur, mumbling furiously, as noisy as always. Dumping the armour on the table, Merlin turned around, glowering as he did, and said, "Don't start. It wasn't my fault."
Arthur didn't say a word, just watched as Merlin flushed again, and waving his arms around in a whirlwind of activity, stomped out of the room, slamming the door behind him.
Arthur couldn't hold it in any more. Laughing until he could hardly breathe, he had to wipe his eyes for the joy of it. Arthur's life had been boring and focused and dour before Merlin crashed into his life. And now, there was ridiculous arguments and giggles and - dare Arthur admit it - fun every day, and it was all due to Merlin. Merlin was unwise and reckless and idiotic, too perfectly imperfect or imperfectly perfect, but Arthur was a better man for it and he wouldn't have it any other way.