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An Infuriating Man
“Merlin!”
Dammit, where was the brainless twit? Arthur was sure that he had at least spent one year of his life searching for this idiot. And that was no mean feat, considering Merlin had been living only for three years in Camelot. The prince ripped one part of the armor he had been wearing on patrol off and threw it down on the floor. Not that it mattered; the floor was littered with clothes, towels, cups and… damn the man! Arthur’s favorite sword.
“MERLIN!”
While Arthur was leaning down to get his sword off the floor, he heard behind him the door flying open and Merlin, in a very pissed-off sounding voice, yelling, “WHAT?”
Instead of his sword, Arthur grabbed the nearest goblet, turned around and threw it with all his might at his manservant. “THAT!” Satisfied, he watched the goblet bouncing off Merlin’s nose; then he listened even more satisfied to the other man, who had hidden his face behind his forarms, being his usual whiny self. “Ow! Ow, dammit, stop that shit!”
“Could you maybe explain to me what you have been doing the last hours while…” Arthur’s voice trailed off when he finally got a good look at Merlin’s face. He had a black eye, a rather impressive one; the swelling went down over his right cheekbone. Arthur felt his temper rise; no one, no one was allowed to hurt Merlin, no matter how stupid his manservant was behaving. NO ONE.
“Who did this?” Arthur hissed while he went over to his manservant.
Merlin looked up, hand still on his nose, and asked, “Are you insane? You just threw that thing at me!” He lowered his hand; it came away bloody.
“Ah shit!”
“What the hell…?”
“What did you expect, oh Mighty One? These things are heavy!” With that, Merlin kicked the goblet across the room, then he unwrapped his scarf to press it against his nose. “That was exactly what I needed today, thank you very much!”
Arthur heard himself saying, “You could learn to duck,” when he really didn’t want to. He was still staring at the giant shiner on Merlin’s face. He was absolutely sure the goblet wasn’t responsible for it.
“Yes!” Merlin bitched back. “That’s it! I should probably learn to walk on my knees after all, like you suggested on the first day we met!” His manservant turned away, cursing under his breath; he still had his left hand with the scarf pressed to his nose, with his other hand he started to pick up a few clothes. “Arthur? Would it kill you to throw your clothes once in a while on a…”
Arthur didn’t listen anymore. Since Merlin had removed the scarf, Arthur had a very good view of Merlin’s slender neck; it was also bruised all over. Actually, it looked as if someone had grabbed Merlin and shook him like a dog would its prey. The prince leaned down, got a hold of Merlin’s arms and hoisted him up. Arthur ignored Merlin’s startled look and carried his manservant over to the bed, making him sit on it.
“Arthur? I would like to finish cleaning your chambers before dinner, okay?”
“What happened to you today?”
Merlin rolled his eyes. “Nothing! Can I now…”
“Merlin! Someone hit you! Or how did you mange to get that black eye? And your neck is bruised all over, So. What. Happened. To. You?”
Merlin looked up at him for awhile, then he raised his eyebrows. “Well, the bruising on my neck? That was another cup you threw at me, a few days ago.”
Sinking down on the bed right beside Merlin, Arthur asked aghast, “What?”
“Yeah, I’d thought you forgot about it. You do it so often; it has to be hard to remember. Maybe you should sometimes recall that I don’t wear an armor… like you,” Merlin smirked.
“This isn’t funny at all,” Arthur said and tried to get another look at the bruise. Merlin swerved. “Then maybe you should stop throwing shit at me?” He tried to stand up and Arthur immediately grabbed his arm again. “Who hit you?”
A sigh. “No, Arthur. While I would immensely enjoy listening to you telling your buddies why it’s perfectly fine for you to throw things at my head but not for others, I know that look on your face. I’m not a damsel in distress, thank you very much.”
“This is something completely different! I didn’t mean to… I… You’re special. You’re mine!” Arthur barked, and then his brain caught up with what he just had said. Great. He felt heat rising to his face.
Merlin swallowed and stood up, looking a bit flushed himself. “Indeed. And since I’m so special and… yours, I will now clean your rooms.”
“Leave it! Your nose is still bleeding; I give you the day off. Go down to Gaius and get something for it… and for your eye.”
Merlin sighed, nodded and went over to the door. Hand on the handle, he turned around once more. “I know it’s not my place to say but… could you maybe avoid making an even bigger mess today?”
“I’ll have another servant clean it. You make sure to be back with my breakfast tomorrow.”
“Another servant, huh? Please don’t throw anything at him, I become jealous very easily.” After that, Merlin closed the door behind him quickly.
Arthur sighed and let himself fall backwards on the bed, rubbing his eyes. Dammit! He had never thought he would actually hurt Merlin by throwing stuff at him. He didn’t even know why he did it; the last cup he had thrown at another servant had happened when he had been four years old. Usually, he didn’t even notice his servants. Arthur sighed again. Well, that was definitely not the case with Merlin, and had never been.
Looking up at the canopy, he heard Merlin’s voice again: …while I would immensely enjoy listening to you telling your buddies… So. One of the knights, then.
***
Merlin woke up to Gaius’ clatterings in the adjourning room. Yawning, he turned around on his bed and opened his eyes just to close them tightly immediately. Dammit, he hated it when the sun was shining straight… The sun? He sat up abruptly. Gods, he had overslept, for quite a few hours obviously. Getting up quickly, he groaned and felt around for the big bruise on his lower back. Merlin was very glad that Arthur hadn’t discovered that one; dealing with Gaius’ rage had been bad enough. Apparently this bruise looked exactly like the print of a boot, which made sense… it had been caused by a boot, Sir Gerard’s boot, to be precise. Gerard was the biggest ass that stalked around in Camelot, and Merlin couldn’t wait to catch him unaware. But now was definitely not the time to muse about what he would do to that ass, now was the time to get dressed very fast and think about a really good excuse why he hadn’t shown up with breakfast.
While he was getting his own boots on, Merlin wondered if he would really need an excuse… Arthur had been very, very sorry the day before. Not that he had said as much, but Merlin didn’t need to hear it, he knew it anyway. Arthur had looked horrified. Maybe two years ago, Merlin would have enjoyed it; now, not so much. He wouldn’t mind if Arthur stopped throwing things -his aim was pretty good and it hurt like hell- but Merlin also knew Arthur had no idea how much it hurt; he had the suspicion the prince simply didn’t know how strong he was. But now Arthur had caught on and while Merlin wouldn’t miss being a target, he fervently hoped Arthur wouldn’t stop the wrestling matches. They left him bruised all over, too, but… boy, he would really miss wrestling with Arthur.
Stomping down the few stairs to Gaius’ room, he asked the old man, “Why didn’t you wake me? Arthur will be delighted when I serve his breakfast three hours late.”
Gaius turned around to look him over, one eyebrow almost meeting the hairline. “Arthur was here at dawn; he told me to let you sleep in. He apparently wanted to start the knight’s training early today.”
Gods. “Gaius, please tell me you haven’t told Arthur?”
“Told him what? About Sir Gerard or about the fact he himself should stop abusing you?”
“He isn’t abusing… Gaius! You didn’t tell him about Gerard, did you?”
Gaius huffed. “No, I didn’t. But you should.”
“I can handle him on my own; I most certainly don’t need Arthur for it.”
Ignoring Gaius’ grumblings, Merlin snatched a piece of bread from the table and trotted out of the laboratory, heading for the training’s field.
Halfway there, he met Sir Robert, one of Gerard’s closest friends, supported by two of his servants, looking half-dead. All three of them shrank back from him.
Oh no.
Merlin broke into a run, arrived at the field and saw Arthur pummelling Gerard across it. The other knights were standing huddled together at one side, looking like frightened mice.
Great.
Leaning back on one of the wooden posts, Merlin continued to watch the unequal fight. Sir Gerard was obviously brainless enough to not stay down when he really should. And Arthur, the idiot, hadn’t even put his chain mail on. Merlin remembered his own remark about not wearing armor and rolled his eyes. Gods, this man was so infuriating. Infuriating and… noble.
Finally, Gerard managed to stumble over his own feet again and went down, and stayed down. Arthur hissed something at him Merlin didn’t understand, and then swaggered toward Merlin, drenched in sweat. Merlin threw him a towel when he was close enough and asked, “How did you find out?”
“I asked.”
“You asked?”
“Yes. I asked in a very manly way which of them helped to reign my manservant in. Imagine my surprise when three of them came forward.”
“Why, that was almost… smart. Wait. Three of them?”
Arthur finished rubbing the sweat off his face and threw the towel at the ground, not at Merlin’s face. Merlin sighed inwardly. “Three of them?” he asked again.
“Yep.” Arthur smirked, turned around and marched back to the middle of the field. “Sir Thomas, if you may?”
Merlin picked up the towel.
***
Arthur sat on his bed and swallowed his groans; Merlin’s cursing was bad enough. “Can you maybe explain what sense it makes that we’re now both covered in bruises?”
“The others look far worse.”
Splat. The wet piece of linen landed again on the cut above his right eyebrow. This time, Arthur winced. “Could you be a bit more careful?”
“I have to stop the bleeding! I wouldn’t have to do that if you had remembered to wear a helmet while beating the shit out of Sir Thomas!”
Arthur felt himself smirking again; he had had so much fun this morning, beating those assholes into the ground. It was so worth a few cuts and bruises.
“You think this is funny?”
Arthur looked up at Merlin and smiled broadly. “I do.” Watching, not for the first time, how his smile seemed to totally distract the other man, Arthur thought, Now. He wrapped one arm around Merlin’s waist and drew him down on the bed, fascinated by the way Merlin’s eyes were becoming really big. Arthur let his fingers wander gently over Merlin’s neck, asking, “Does it still hurt?”
“What?”
“Your neck. Does it still hurt?”
“Uh… no?”
“You’re not sure?”
“What?”
Arthur smiled again. “And your nose?” One finger ghosted over the tip. “It sure looks as if it would still hurt. I’m really sorry.”
“Uh…”
“At least nothing happened to your lips. That would have been a shame,” Arthur said, leaning closer. He watched Merlin intently, but the other man didn’t retreat; his eyes were starting to cross, though. Arthur cocked his head to one side to avoid crushing Merlin’s nose and kissed him softly and slowly. Supporting Merlin’s shoulders with one hand, he carefully tipped him backwards until Merlin was lying on the bed and Arthur on top of him. The moment Merlin’s lips opened, Arthur deepened the kiss, feeling the man beneath him shudder all over. Gods, Merlin tasted better than Arthur had ever imagined. Trembling himself when Merlin buried his hands in Arthur’s hair and drew him even closer, the prince started to move his hips slowly against Merlin’s. Drowning for a few moments in glorious sensations, Arthur was not amused when Merlin drew his head back a bit, breathing heavily.
“Uh… Arthur? What…?”
“Don’t tell me you never thought about this?”
“Uh… I did… but…”
“You’re not interested? Just tell me and I…” Arthur broke off when he felt Merlin’s fingers clutching his tunic. Arthur leaned down again just to hear Merlin say, “This is not a buddy thing, is it?”
Arthur snorted. “No. This is a damsel thing.”
“You have to call it that? I’m not a damsel.”
Arthur just kissed him again, shortly. “I know you’re not, believe me. But it is still a damsel thing. Or maybe a princess thing.”
“A maid thing?”
“Forget about the maids.”
Sliding one hand under Merlin’s tunic, Arthur stroked slowly over Merlin’s chest, watching the other man arc against him. This was probably the hottest thing he ever had seen and explained nicely why Arthur was already out of breath. Panting a bit, he slid his hand downwards and had just reached Merlin’s waistband when Merlin laid his hand over his, stopping him.
“Arthur, I have to tell you something.”
“I don’t want to know.”
“Arthur, really I… have to.”
The prince looked at Merlin’s quite desperate expression and sighed. “I really don’t want to know. I wouldn’t understand it anyway. You know, I never understood things like floating spears, airborne benches, flying plates… boiling hot water that had been cold a second before. Should I go on?” Merlin shook his head, eyes huge again. “I thought as much. I’m too stupid to understand those things, so it wouldn’t make sense you’re telling me anything. At least not right now, okay?” Merlin nodded. “Good. You’re all right with me getting these pants off you?” Apparently completely mute now, Merlin nodded again.
A few minutes later, Arthur decided he could live with a speechless Merlin for awhile, as long as he kept on moaning.
The End.