Work Text:
Ever since his father died, Arthur’s life had changed drastically.
“MERLIN!” Arthur managed to refrain from scrubbing a hand across his face like a character from one of Mordred’s goddamn cartoons but it was a near thing.
“Yes, sir?” said his idiot nanny, poking his head out from the kitchen. His hair was sticking out in every possible direction and his shirt was covered with stains. Sometimes, Arthur genuinely despaired of him altogether. Today was definitely going to be one of those days, the migraine lurking behind his eyes assured him.
“Where is my tie?” he asked wearily.
“I’m Mordred’s nanny, sir, not yours,” replied the insolent man whose outrageous salary he (almost) uncomplainingly paid every month.
“Merlin.” Arthur’s voice turned dangerous as he stalked into the kitchen. “I would like my tie. Now.”
“Sir,” said Merlin, “Your half-brother would like his breakfast. Now.”
Great, he was clearly doomed to spend his domestic life in direct competition with a three year old. To add insult to injury Mordred, with his cherubic face and adorably grabby baby hands, was clearly winning. He huffed and slid into a chair next to him, reaching over to ruffle the boy’s hair.
Merlin smiled proudly down at both of them. “There’s a good boy,” he said, except he looked directly at Arthur as he said it. With great difficulty, Arthur refrained from pouting. It was an action that made him look far too much like his brother for his liking.
His nanny picked up the plate he’d had waiting on the counter. “You breakfast. Sir.” Merlin’s breath was hot against his earlobe as he reached around Arthur to put the plate on the table before him. Almost against his will, his eyes were drawn to Merlin’s lips and he licked his own. “Come on Merlin, you’re being ridiculous.”
“No, sir,” said Merlin, putting a hideous orange bowl with cats all over it in front of a very sleepy Mordred. Luckily he was not a morning baby at all, always silent and compliant until noon. Post-lunch he turned into the devil incarnate so Arthur had learned to appreciate his one peaceful meal of the day. At least until his nanny insisted on ruining it.
“You wanted us to be professional, you’ll find I’m being eminently professional. No little thing like us sleeping together is going to interfere with my working hours. Sir.”
“That’s not what I meant and you know it,” said Arthur but his defence sounded feeble, even to his own ears. Merlin merely raised an eyebrow. “What I meant was… I was just expressing a concern for Mordred’s well-being!”
Merlin looked at the child placidly slurping soggy cereal between them. His other eyebrow went up as well. “Yes, I can see how truly devastated he looks. He’s probably going to spend the rest of his life in therapy because his legal guardian has a sex life.”
Mordred chose that moment to blink up at them. “Sex life!” he chimed in happily.
“Don’t say that where anybody can hear you,” said a harried Arthur. He looked up at Merlin. “Who in hell thought you would be a suitable caretaker of children?”
“You did,” said Merlin. “I warned you I had no references.”
“Hell!” said Mordred knowledgably. “That’s where Mrs Drewers said you would go for driving over her roses. Is it nice? Can I come?”
“But you just came from there,” muttered Arthur.
Merlin elbowed him in the ribs sharply. “But I’m the one who’s going to wind up being responsible for sending him running to therapy?”
“If you had had the misfortune of meeting my father’s third wife…”
“Having met Morgana and you, I’m quite certain which side of the family he gets his more undesirable genes from.”
Arthur, realising that the better part of valour definitely lay in retreat, picked up his plate and put it in the sink. “I’m going to work,” he said, grabbing his keys. He paused in the hallway to check his reflection in the mirror there. His suit was immaculate as always and his tie perfectly fixed: he looked every inch the dignified CEO in charge.
“Pick up some milk on your way back!” yelled Merlin, from the kitchen, ruining the illusion.
“What exactly do I pay you for?”
“Making sure you don’t murder your own brother and spend a lifetime in prison, sir!”
“I have excellent lawyers,” muttered Arthur, “And if I could just show the jury a single video of the damn brat, they’d call it a day for justifiable homicide and let me walk. Hell, they’d probably give me a medal for public service.”
Merlin snorted, the sound clearly audible even outside the kitchen.
Oh fuck it, thought Arthur. He might as well accept that this was his life now. He strode back in and kissed his nanny thoroughly.
“I could sue you for sexual harassment, sir,” said Merlin, his eyes bright and cheeks pink.
Arthur kissed him again.