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Merlin had insisted on making dinner. He never cooked, ever. Arthur did all the cooking. Not only was Arthur simply better at it than Merlin, but he was much more capable. Merlin was a disaster at most things not involving his music. The idiot. But he was good at what he did. Although, what he did was certainly not cook. So when Merlin had insisted on making dinner, Arthur should have listened to the little voice in his head telling him to not allow it.
Arthur couldn't say no to Merlin. Especially when Merlin pouted and massaged his back in just the right place and promised cookies in the end. Arthur did his best to keep up his strong, stubborn, facade he typically would display, but with Merlin that faded quickly. His boyfriend had a way of turning Arthur into a sticky, gooey romantic mess of a person. It was quite sickening. Though Arthur would never admit it, he adored the sticky, gooey romantic mess that was bound to happen when Merlin was involved. Anything involving Merlin can be described as sticky and gooey, in fact. Which, again, was why the whole cooking thing was a bad idea. But Arthur had a bad habit of not listening to himself when Merlin asked sweetly for something. Plus, it was their anniversary; Arthur had to allow Merlin to give his best because Merlin was a strong believer in making a gift rather than buying it. Arthur looked at the expensive keyboard he had gotten Merlin as a gift and considered how very differently they showed love. Merlin was sentimental and sensitive, while Arthur wanted to show how he felt rather than talk about it. Their lives could not have been any more different until they met, but it only made for a more interesting relationship. Besides, if Merlin was any different, Arthur may not love him as much as he does. But that was just downright crazy, of course he would always love Merlin.
Arthur flipped another page of his newspaper that he was not reading. The tiny print began to blur, and Arthur just continued to pretend to read simply because he didn't know what else to do. He wanted so badly to check on Merlin and the dinner, but Merlin had insisted that it was a surprise. Merlin had probably coated the entire kitchen with flour and cheese or something. Why Arthur was concerned about the cheese was a question he could not answer. The longer Merlin took, the more anxious Arthur had became. It was mostly boring, but really, Arthur couldn’t rely on Merlin to figure it all out on his own.
Arthur was just about to flip another page when Merlin called, "Arthur, could you come in here?"
"I thought you wanted to do this on your own." Arthur smiled inwardly about the fact that Merlin needed him still.
Merlin groaned loudly. "Arthur, stop being such a prat and get in here. I need your help."
"What do you need? You were supposed to do this on your own, you know."Arthur set his newspaper to the side and stood up.
"Yeah, I know, but apparently our oven is much hotter than I had expected."
"What?" Arthur asked as he entered the kitchen.
The oven was open and the chicken inside, surprisingly, didn't look burnt or dry. There was a salad bowl full of chopped romaine and croutons. He had forgotten the parmesan cheese, but that was irrelevant. On the stove was a steaming pot of rice mixed with what Arthur guessed was spinach? He hoped that it was spinach. Merlin stood a few steps away from the oven, clutching one of his hands. Arthur rolled his eyes and went to grab the oven mitt that was by the sink when Merlin whimpered softly. Arthur looked at Merlin, incredulously, demanding an answer with his eyebrow.
"Get the chicken before it burns!" Merlin whined. He was still holding onto his left hand as if it were the most delicate thing in the entire world. And something clicked. Arthur should not be worried about the chicken right now.
"What did you do to your hand, Merlin?" But Merlin just took a step back and motioned to the oven with his head. "Did you burn yourself?" Arthur added, incredulously.
"No," Merlin answered quickly. Far too quickly.
Arthur stomped over to Merlin and took him by his left wrist, pulling it away from Merlin’s grasp. Trying to be gentle, in case Merlin had gotten himself really hurt, Arthur turned it over to examine it. Despite Arthur’s efforts to be gentle, Merlin still cried out in pain at the contact. "Merlin," Arthur demanded, coldly. "Let me see it."
"Just get the chicken please. I don’t want to ruin it."
Arthur sighed and did as he was told. Then he immediately went to Merlin after closing the oven and shutting it off. "Okay, now let me see what you did to your hand, Merlin."
Merlin slowly peeled his right hand away to reveal a burn. Not just any burn, it was at least a second-degree burn from what Arthur could see. Arthur's heart began to race with a flood of concern.
"I, erm, I burnt my hand."
Arthur tensed, but didn't want to worry Merlin (not that that was an easy task). "I can see you've burnt your hand, Merlin. How did you burn yourself? The oven mitt was by the sink!"
"Yeah, it was. I missed that."
"You tried to take out the food with no oven mitt!?" Arthur cradled Merlin’s hand in his and moved Merlin towards the sink. "Are you actually an idiot, or do you just pretend to be?"
Merlin shrugged and let Arthur run cold water over his hand. "I used the towel, it just fell and didn't exactly cover my whole hand..."
Arthur just glared at Merlin and took another look at the burn. It didn’t look too bad, but it was definitely a second-degree burn, so Arthur wanted to look at it closer with better equipment. Though Arthur did have a pretty extensive home first aid kit, Merlin used up most of the items with how often he injured himself. "Next time will you please use the glove I have for this very purpose?"
"Yes, sir," Merlin mocked.
Arthur squeezed Merlin’s wrist and looked sternly at his boyfriend. "I'm not kidding, Merlin. This is bad. Look at it."
Merlin just held Arthur’s gaze. "I didn't purposely burn myself, Arthur. Thanks a lot."
Arthur just skated over that comment and the implications it may have had. "Come on. I think I have some burn cream. We need to get this cleaned up."
"I still have to make you cookies though!" Merlin practically howled as Arthur nudged him into the other room with his knee on his bum.
"You are not going near that oven any time soon!" Arthur protested sternly.
Merlin smiled. "Because you are worried about me?"
Yes. "No, because I am terrified of you ruining my kitchen." Merlin just gave Arthur a knowing smile and walked to the bathroom where the first aid kit was.
After getting Merlin all fixed up, and safely onto the couch out of reach of anything hot, Arthur went to clean up the kitchen. He dished up all the food Merlin had made and set the table for two. He found Merlin’s cookie dough in the fridge and put a tray in the oven as he got them each something to drink. Merlin happily came to dinner and made fun of his own cooking the whole time. Arthur disagreed, however, it was actually quite delicious, and Merlin had a battle wound to prove it. They finished their food quickly and each had seconds. Really, it wasn't half bad. Arthur would have used more rosemary on the chicken, but it was still very good. Merlin had done well.
After the bell on the oven went off for the cookies, Arthur would not even let Merlin in the kitchen. He took them out and made sure they had cooled down before Merlin could eat them. Of course that got Arthur the most pitiful pout in the history of pouts, but it didn't really bother him, because Arthur would not have his boyfriend burn himself on his oven twice in one night.
When they were finished with the dishes and were eating the chocolate chip cookies, Arthur didn't even complain when Merlin came over and ate a cookie right out of Arthur’s hand, just as he was about to eat it. Arthur rushed after Merlin, into the living room, threatening Merlin with some much deserved tickles. That shut Merlin up long enough to give Arthur a kiss. Which was quite alright with Arthur, he had to admit.
Later, in bed, once Merlin was breathing steadily with sleep, Arthur leaned over and kissed Merlin's left hand gingerly whispering, "Don't you ever do that again."
Merlin moaned quietly into the pillow and Arthur wondered if he was actually still awake. But it didn't matter. Arthur couldn’t not be the gross gooey romantic that he pretended not to be. That was impossible. Arthur nuzzled in close to his perfectly incompetent boyfriend and fell asleep thinking about how lucky he was to have this man in his life.