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Wild daisies tickled Merlin’s cheek as he turned to Lancelot. He watched intently the clouds swim by above the tree canopy.
“That one,” he pointed. “That looks like a dragon.”
Merlin tried to find it. “You’re making stuff up now.”
“I see a dragon. You have to do it.”
Merlin huffed a laugh and shook his head. He cupped his hands, and with sunlight he created a tiny golden dragon— one that actually looked like the part. When Lancelot reached for it, it perched on his finger.
Merlin watched him smile before saying, “Your turn.”
Lancelot bit his lip. He cupped his hands the same way Merlin had done it and whispered, “Draca.”
Lancelot’s eyes glowed the sunset, then in his palms appeared a creature more or less similar to a wyvern. It was deformed and ugly, and it didn't fly.
“I love it,” Merlin said. Lancelot tried to make it move and laughed when it fell off his hand. It disappeared when he stopped looking at it.
Lancelot kissed him. It tasted like cherries. When they pulled away, Merlin raised a hand and reshaped the cloud— only slightly. Only noticeable to them.
“Any other tricks under your sleeve?” Lancelot asked.
“Yeah,” Merlin brought a hand to his cheek. “Many.”
“Is that so?”
He hummed, then pulled him close to kiss him again. The clouds and the magic could wait.