Author:

archaeologist_d
Title: What the hell are you doing? - part 2
Rating: PG-13
Pairing/s: none
Character/s: Arthur, Merlin
Summary: Merlin is hurt, he’s being an arse about it and Arthur isn’t helping.
Warnings: none
Word Count:914
Camelot Drabble Prompt #689: Myth
--------------
It was a myth that Gaius was nearly omniscient when it came to medicine. Sure, Merlin knew that Gaius pushed a little magic into the potions he brewed, the under-his-breath mutterings using the old tongue and there was a hint of gold in the old man’s eyes at times.

Gaius would deny it, of course, shout about how using magic in a kingdom where it could get you killed or worse, but he had a better than average recovery with most of his patients.
But then there was Merlin.

He had a bunch of scars littering his skin and considering how often he and Will got into trouble, that was saying a lot. But when it came to magic and healing himself or others, he was pretty pants about it. Merlin would have to rely on others to fix whatever was broken.

Like now.

Arthur had just stomped out of the room, muttering about idiots and Merlin getting dropped on his head as a child because Arthur claimed there was no other explanation.

Gaius gave Merlin the stink-eye, and once the door had closed, he snapped, “What were you thinking?”

“Arthur was being his usual sacrificing self and I couldn’t let him die just because he hasn’t got the brains the size of a pea.” Merlin grimaced, then. He’d waved his hand around for emphasis and that pulled at the rock-wall wound in his back and it wasn’t pleasant.

“Well, I don’t think you should be complaining about Arthur’s brain when it’s clear that we’d need a major expedition to find yours.” At least, while Gaius was giving Merlin what for, he was also stitching him up, cleaning the wound with wine which hurt like hell and loading the bandages with yarrow and honey.

It would have to do.

Merlin let out a long sigh. “You think he’ll give me a night off?”

“Doubtful. You didn’t break anything. Well, except for your head and that’s always in question,” Gaius said, putting away the medicines, then handing over a little vial full of painkillers. “Use it if the pain gets worse.”

Merlin didn’t like taking that sort of thing. It made him dizzy at best and much too talkative, a trait that might serve if he were in his right mind but not when his brain wouldn’t filter. Danger in a bottle.

And, of course, right on cue, one of the servants hurried in and claimed that Arthur was yelling for him, and would he please hurry as Arthur was scaring the staff.

Typical.

Gaius just tutted. “Arthur can wait. Your health is more important than a few chores. Rest, my boy. The work will be there tomorrow.”

“I’d never hear the end of it. Merlin this and Merlin that. Better to see what he wants,” Merlin muttered, giving Gaius a pained shrug. “I’ll be fine.”

Merlin didn’t hurry back, though. True be told, he wasn’t feeling great and Arthur would be a pillock about absolutely everything and Merlin wasn’t in the best of moods.

When he arrived, Arthur was already sitting down, tearing at chicken legs and drinking from his goblet. As he saw Merlin enter, he threw down the bones and wiped his hand—luckily on a napkin and not his shirt. “About time, too.”

Arthur got up then, scowling a little at Merlin, then looking him up and down, he said, “Gaius has reassured me that you would live. Although you look like you’re about to fall over.” With that, he kicked one of the chairs and pointed to it. “Sit. I can’t be having my servants littering the floor.”

“You could give me a day off. Recompense for saving your backside again.” Merlin let out a short groan, sinking down. It felt less awful, then, as long as he didn’t lean back. If he didn’t know better, he’d say that Arthur looked a bit worried.

“Saving my… that will never happen,” Arthur said, shaking his head a little. “Merlin, if you were feeling unwell, you could have just sent word. You are far too careless with yourself.”

“I’m fine,” Merlin said, lying through his teeth. “So why were you bellowing, Sire?”

“My speech for tomorrow needs to be edited and punched a little to brighten it up. You are… umm adequate,” Arthur started, then his scowl deepened. “Merlin, Merlin, you are an idiot.”

Yeah, he was. The pain, slowly making its way up his back, was suddenly shooting up again, hard and insistent, making him feel like his skin was peeling off his back. He didn’t know if he’d make it back to his room. He didn’t want to appear weak to Arthur. He’d never hear the end of it, but he wasn’t sure how long he’d last.

Scrabbling into his pockets, he pulled out the vial Gaius had given him and downed it in one.

He’d deal with the consequences later.

It didn’t take long, though. From sharp agony to soft edges, the firelight dancing, the room floating a little as curtains swayed, Merlin moving with them. Arthur was looking like some golden god in the candlelight, and he wondered what Arthur would say if he pulled him into a hug.

And then he was hugging Arthur, the arse squawking about it, but it felt good. Arthur was warm and solid, and he kept muttering under his breath that no one was allowed to hug him. But then Merlin got a better idea and shut Arthur up with his mouth.

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