Character/s: Arthur, Merlin
Summary: There was nothing Arthur could do to make him wear the hat. Except that.
Word Count: 997
Author's Notes: This was fun....
Merlin backed away from Arthur, staring at him in horror and shaking his head.
“You’re supposed to do as I say.”
“Then you wear it.” There was no way that he was going to let Arthur put that thing on his head again. Once had been bad enough, he had been the laughing stock of the kitchens for weeks following the feast, once they had established that he wasn’t about to drop down dead that was. Gwen had quietly explained that the hat and cloak were not part of a servant’s attire for formal occasions. All that Merlin was requested to wear when they had important visitors was the tunic with the Pendragon crest on it.
As if he needed reminding of who it was he served, not when the prat was breathing down his neck the entire time, making him do jobs that didn’t need doing and wear stupid hats that didn’t need wearing.
Upon hearing that another feast was to be held for some occasion that Merlin couldn’t even remember, a glint had instantly come into Arthur’s eyes and Merlin had been avoiding him as much as he could. It was a bit hard to avoid the Prince of Camelot, however, especially when his job meant he was supposed to be attending on him every waking hour and seeing to every need.
Merlin had suddenly found the best way was to be super-efficient. He had the room tidy before waking up Arthur (making a mental note to never let Gaius know precisely how much magic he had been using while Arthur was sleeping barely a few paces away) and then almost thrust the prince’s breakfast t him before running away to see to something. It had worked so far, but Merlin knew that it wouldn’t have lasted.
So when another servant approached him in the kitchens and told him that the prince was demanding his presence, Merlin knew it was time to face his destiny.
What he hadn’t expected, however, was for Arthur to practically tackle him the second that he walked through the door. Merlin managed to escape, only to realise that he was missing something. His scarf was in Arthur’s hands and there was a predatory grin on the prince’s face. Merlin’s demands that he hand it over had been met with a smirk, and the following argument had been quick to follow when Merlin realised what it was that he had been avoiding Arthur for in the first place.
Now, he was backed against the wall, his hands scrunched into fists as he tried to stop himself turning the prince into a toad and he was shaking his head. Arthur had both the hat and Merlin’s scarf in his hand.
“Wear the hat.”
“Merlin, I’m ordering you to wear it.”
“And I’m ordering you to give me my scarf back, but that doesn’t seem to be making any difference, does it?”
“That’s because I’m the prince and you’re the servant,” Arthur responded, that smug smirk back on his face that made Merlin torn between wanting to kiss him and wanting to punch him. It was all very well and good – noble even – how Arthur could look when it was directed at someone else. When Merlin found it aimed at him, however, it was infuriating.
“Give me back my scarf, Arthur.”
“Or…” Merlin’s eyes darkened and he licked his lips. Arthur looked wary as the warlock stalked closer, but he held his ground. Merlin stepped right into his personal space and began whispering what he would do if Arthur didn’t back down. Namely, denying the prince the pleasures he usually received once the sun went down. After all, Merlin was there to service his every need.
“You wouldn’t.” Arthur’s voice was hoarse and his pupils blown. Merlin grinned, leaning forward again.
“Don’t need to now,” he exclaimed, dancing out of Arthur’s reach and waving the scarf triumphantly. It was amazing how a bit of dirty talk was the quickest and most effective way of getting Arthur to let his defences down. He was like a blushing maiden whenever Merlin spoke like that, and the warlock constantly used it to his advantage.
“Now you have nothing over me so I’m not wearing your damn hat.” Feeling more than satisfied with himself, Merlin happily refastened the scarf around his neck and made to move to the door. After all, he did still have chores to do even now he was avoiding the hat.
But to his surprise, Arthur was in the way, blocking the door with the damn hat still in his hand. Merlin found that he was swallowing almost nervously, glancing over his shoulder to check the distance between where he stood and the servant’s quarters next door. He knew he would never make it before Arthur caught him.
“I can make you wear this hat.”
“Can’t,” Merlin retorted, only just avoiding sticking his tongue out at the prince. It was tempting though. Arthur was the one being childish, after all. Why shouldn’t his servant/lover respond in the same manner?
This time, it was Arthur who licked his lips as he nodded and Merlin felt himself swallow. Why did he get the feeling that he was now in trouble? Being stubborn and refusing to give Arthur what he wanted was great up until a point. But the prat had years of learning how to get what he wanted and Merlin didn’t truly see how this would be any different.
“If you wear the hat, I’ll give you what you want.”
Arthur stepped forward, glancing down purposefully. Merlin’s heart skipped a beat. He had been beginning to get fed up of bottoming, but the prince refused to swap.
“Damn,” Merlin cursed. Even his stubbornness couldn’t say no to a suggestion like that and he grabbed the hat, slamming it down on his head and scowling.
Arthur’s answering grin nearly made it worth it.