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“It’s too hot.”
“And why are you telling me?”
From beside him, Arthur lets out a sigh. He turns his face to the side, cracking one eye open to look at Merlin. “Oh, I don’t know. Maybe so you'll act like the all powerful sorcerer you are and do something about it?”
“Like what?” Merlin snorts. “Get rid of the sun?”
“Don’t pretend you couldn’t,” Arthur says. He lies there for a moment, then turns to Merlin again with a sly look on his face. “If you really loved me, you’d do something about it -”
“Piss off,” Merlin snaps, and Arthur laughs loudly.
Which is really unfair, because Arthur laughing like that makes Merlin’s heart do funny little flips in his chest. Merlin is already at a disadvantage, because Arthur’s pushed his sleeves up to his elbows, his strong, muscular forearms on display and like. It just makes Merlin feel things, okay.
It’s the middle of summer, one of those hot days where the heat is suffocating and you’re sweating from the moment you wake up to the moment you close your eyes. Arthur had made them do official work this morning, but had given up on any pretence at propriety by lunchtime. They’d stopped by the kitchens for a picnic, then made their way down to the lake and sprawled out under the shade of one of the big oak trees.
In the distance, Merlin can hear the knights splashing around at the lake edge. There’s a lot of shouting and shoving and Merlin is absolutely not getting involved in whatever stupidity Gwaine is up to. He, Percival and Elyan appear to be waging a war, while poor Leon has given up completely. He’s floating on his back and resolutely ignoring the other’s existence.
Merlin turns on his side, propping himself up on one elbow and gazing down at Arthur. “Maybe you should do something about it.”
Arthur looks at him lazily, mouth curved into a loose little smile. “Oh, yeah? And how would I do that?”
“Order the sun to go in,” Merlin suggests immediately. “You boss everyone else around, I don’t see why a giant ball of fire in the sky should be any different -”
“I don’t boss everyone around -”
“You do,” Merlin interrupts. “It’s literally your job. It’s written on the inside of your crown.”
“It’s not -”
“How would you know? It’s not like you clean your own crown, is it?”
“Right, that’s it,” Arthur declares, and promptly rolls on top of Merlin and attempts to smother him with his own scarf. This leads to an intense wrestling match which lasts approximately fifteen seconds, until they both come to the mutual agreement it’s too hot for it.
“No more of that now,” Arthur pants from when he’s straddling Merlin. He ducks his head down, presses his mouth to Merlin’s and sighs sweetly when Merlin’s mouth parts under Arthur’s. When they pull apart, Arthur’s cheeks are flushed pink, and it has nothing to do with the sun.
Arthur gets to his feet, holding one hand out to Merlin. Merlin takes it without thinking, letting Arthur pull him up. “We’re not going back to the castle, are we?”
Arthur shakes his head. “No, we’re going in the lake.”
Merlin frowns, looking down at their entwined fingers, at the silver band on Arthur’s left hand. Arthur’s hands are calloused from years of holding a sword. He’s running an absent thumb over Merlin’s palm, tracing the lines there. “Why?”
“Because it’s hot and I want to see you naked,” Arthur says bluntly, and smirks as Merlin chokes on his own spit.
Once he’s recovered what’s left of his dignity, Merlin manages, “I’m not getting naked.”
Arthur rolls his eyes. “It’s a bit late for modesty, sweetheart, when last night you had your -”
“I’m not getting naked,” Merlin repeats loudly. “Or at least not right now, because then I’d be naked in front of the knights.”
It probably shouldn’t thrill Merlin at the way Arthur stiffens at that, at the way his eyes flash dark for barely a moment before they go carefully blank. (But it really, really does.)
“And then you’d have to kill Gwaine,” Merlin finishes.
“And then I’d have to kill Gwaine,” Arthur agrees. “We could risk it if it was just Leon.”
Laughter bubbles up in Merlin’s chest. “Oh, we could, could we?”
Arthur nods seriously. “He wouldn’t dare look.”
“Wouldn’t so much as peek.”
“Far too honourable.”
“Exactly.”
Merlin tugs Arthur forward, stones crunching underfoot as they make their way to the shore. “If I’m not getting naked, can we swim out to the rocks? I want to see if the selkies have returned. It shouldn’t be long now.”
“You can do whatever you want, as long as it doesn’t involve mermaids,” Arthur mutters, dragging his feet but making very little difference in the face of Merlin’s enthusiasm. “Anything but mermaids.”
“You liked the mermaids.”
“No, Merlin, the mermaids liked me. That’s a very clear distinction. They liked me so much, in fact, that they brought me piles of rotting fish heads every morning.”
Merlin laughs. “That’s a great sign of respect in their culture!”
“Merlin,” Arthur says firmly. “No mermaids.”
“Wrong season for them anyway,” Merlin shrugs. “But don’t worry, if we do get any stragglers, I’ll protect you.”
They both shed their boots, Arthur laughing as Merlin nearly loses balance and topples straight over. Arthur pulls his shirt over his head, all golden skin and silvery white scars, his mother’s ring threaded on a chain and nestled in the hollow of his neck. Gwaine wolf whistles until Elyan tackles him.
Merlin strips off his own shirt, then takes Arthur’s hand. Together, they run into the cool water.