Title: The Sweetest Thing
Character/s: Mordred, Merlin
Summary: When Merlin gets sick and Mordred isn't allowed to take care of him properly, he does what he can.
Warnings: Set within an established twincest relationship/AU, some sexual references and explicit language.
Word Count: 570
Prompt: #106 - Sweet
Author's Notes: Set in the Sins 'verse during their first year of working at the summer camp.
Mordred tossed the bag over to Merlin, who was so effectively wrapped in a duvet that he looked like human marshmallow.
"Don't tell the others, alright?" Mordred said, watching Merlin tear into the bag.
"Why? Don't you think they'll believe I'm sick?" Merlin asked, bringing the lolly to his mouth, covered in sherbet dip. He'd woken up that morning with a suspected case of tonsillitis that nobody but Mordred believed. Mordred only believed him because it was the first time in Merlin's life he'd had difficulty swallowing and all Mordred had offered him was a glass of water.
"No, because I nicked it off that eight year old that gets them sent in," Mordred replied, tossing Merlin another bag. "Got you that with the money instead."
Merlin re-dipped the lolly and held it in his mouth as he opened the other bag, closing it again when the magazine inside fell open, revealing nothing but tits.
"How sweet," Merlin said with an air of confusion. "What do I want that for?"
Mordred smiled, drawing a line in the air. "Cause this is as close as I'm allowed to get until you're better."
Merlin took the sweet from his lips and pouted. Like every kid told they couldn't go out and play because they were ill.
"Don't blame me, it's the kids. Cross contamination or something. Besides, they're disgusting enough when they're well; all snotty and licking each other."
"I never had you down for a martyr," Merlin said before nodding to the bag. "Hadn't you better take that instead?"
"Please, you could be at death's door and still have a sweet tooth and a hard-on. It was either that or get you a chocolate sculpted dick but given your sore throat..." Mordred trailed off and shrugged. He'd hoped to bring a smile to Merlin's lips one last time before he was officially put into isolation. It hadn’t worked yet and he was running out of tricks.
"Yeah, you'll miss me really," Merlin said begrudgingly, returning the lolly to his mouth covered in a fresh coat of sherbet. The fact he let it rest on his tongue rather than making a show of sucking it proved how much pain he was in and Mordred's heart softened.
"I will miss you," Mordred admitted. "There's nothing I'd like more than to crawl into that bed with you and look after you myself, you know that right?"
"Nah, if you got it, we really would be fucked, wouldn't we?" Merlin said thoughtfully. "Who would buy me Dip Dabs and FHM then?"
"Get some sleep, you soppy tart," Mordred said to keep himself from living up to his promise of staying. "I need to go sheep dip your fan club."
Mordred stayed rooted to the floor. Usually he kissed Merlin goodbye, or touched him in some way if they were in public. He didn't know what to do without that small reassuring gesture.
He swallowed the lump in his throat, hoping it wasn't a symptom. "I love you, sweetheart."
"I love you too. Now bugger off, I want to read my new book." Merlin finally smiled and it was the sweetest sight. The sight that got him through seven infected children, nineteen fakers and six nights confined to sleeping on the porch of the makeshift quarantine cabin, listening to Merlin tell the sick children bedtime stories in a croaky voice.
He really was the sweetest thing.