Title: A Good Fever
Pairing/s: Merlin/Arthur (pre-slash)
Character/s: Merlin, Morgana
Summary: Merlin goes to Morgana with a problem. Morgana assures him of it not being much of a problem at all.
Warnings: too much sweet makes you sick.
Word Count: 564
Author's Notes: Ted Mosby teaches his kids a valuable lesson: Nothing good ever happens after 2 am. This was written at 2:05.
Merlin's like 8-9, Morgana's like 16-17 in my head.
Morgana looked up from her book to find her little neighbour Merlin peeping around her bedroom door. She smiled at him.
"Hello, Merlin! Come on in!"
Merlin seemed to hesitate before opening the door wider and stepping in. He took two steps towards her bed and stopped, peering at her through his heavy fringe. He winced a little when the door closed behind him automatically.
"What has he done now?" Morgana asked. Because obviously this was Arthur related. Her little brother usually doted on their neighbour except for when he insisted on pulling Merlin's metaphorical pigtails.
Not that Merlin ever hesitated to fight back. Or let Morgana know immediately. Until now, it seemed.
"Did he steal your dragon again?"
Merlin shook his head, and looked like he sorely regretted coming here.
"Did—did he hurt you?" Morgana asked suddenly. Arthur did occasionally get into playground fights, although most of them seemed to be in Merlin's defense. Morgana did not actually believe that Arthur would ever physically hurt Merlin.
Except Merlin seemed to hesitate again, his head making an aborted nod before giving a confused shake.
Morgana was immediately alarmed. She picked up a mildly protesting Merlin and placed him on her bed.
"Merlin," she said, kneeling in front of him. "Tell me," she ordered, trying to be gentle and firm at the same time.
"He— I— , " Merlin struggled for a moment before blurting out, "I have a feeva."
“A fever?” Morgana asked, not sure she had heard right. Merlin nodded miserably, looking at his hands. Morgana swept aside his fringe and felt his forehead. It was cool.
“Are you sure, Merlin? Your forehead is cool.”
“Well, I don’t have it now. It’s Arthur’s fault!” he declared unhappily.
Morgana stared at him, perplexed.
“Arthur’s fault?” she asked.
“Yeah. I get a feeva when I stand next to him to, or when he comes—“ he flailed about trying to gesture with his hands, his eyes getting bigger with agitation. “It gets really warm,” he finished lamely.
Morgana couldn’t believe what she was hearing. She couldn’t quite keep the huge grin from her face.
“Do you like being cold?” she asked, not able to stop poking at Merlin’s cheeks.
Merlin paused to ponder at that. “Not really,” he admitted.
“Isn’t it a good fever then, Merlin?” she teased.
Merlin looked down and blushed. Morgana tried to keep herself from squeezing the life out of the small boy.
“It’s—Mummy says feevas are not good,” Merlin stated.
“Awww you silly, cute, adorable little boy! It’s not a fever. Trust me,” Morgana could hardly keep from giggling.
“But—,” he seemed to get worried again. “Mummy says when I get really warm it means I have a feeva.”
“Well do you feel sick?” Morgana asked. “Ill? Achy?”
“There you go then,” Morgana declared with a wave of her hand. It seemed to satisfy Merlin, since his frown disappeared and was replaced with a small smile.
“Thanks M’gana,” Merlin jumped down from the bed and gave her a quick hug before she could straighten up. He dashed off towards the door.
“Merlin!” Morgana called before he could disappear again.
Merlin turned back. “Huh?”
Morgana gave him a smile. “Keep him close, Merlin. You’ll never be cold again.”
Merlin smiled back. He opened the door and disappeared through it, leaving a beaming Morgana behind.