Chapter Text
George is not someone that allows himself to get easily distracted but the whole Merlin situation has gotten tremendously out of hand. It would seem that Guinevere had a bit of an infatuation with the young Merlin. Prince Arthur's newest personal manservant. It was just a little bit dissatisfying to George considering the young woman has always done her tasks efficiently and without compromise for quite some years and now has grown quite talkative while completing her duties. Far too much chatter. Far too much conversation. He’s learned more about her in the few days Merlin has been here than in the years she’s served in the castle. It is quite tiresome. George doesn’t understand what could be so intriguing about the newest member of the Camelot Staff.
“Maybe he needs help? He’s never had to work with royalty before. It can be overwhelming at first.” She scrubs the delicate glassware in her hands with warm fresh water—scrub scrub scrubbing the glass with practiced roughness to unblemish any flaws or stains.
Gossiping. This is what Gwen has come to. She is gossiping while working—which can’t be said for half the staff who have gone out to peek at the display outside without being productive. At least she has the foresight of multitasking and for that and that alone George will tolerate her change in demureness.
A manservant being sent to the stocks is quite a sight.
Tomatoes and hecklers at every corner. Merlin has already made quite a name for himself in the post. It is a bad look for all the staff that one of their own could be reprimanded so repeatedly and still hold his position in the Royal household. It is unseemly. Mortifying, really.
“If he needs assistance he can always ask one of the staff.” George says taking the freshly washed wine glass from her hand and polishing it correctly. She had been using the wrong stroking method—the one that clouds the glass to a foggy undesirable color.
Merlin is affecting everyone else’s duties with his incompetence. He will certainly need to pay closer attention to him to make sure his chaos does not affect the castle's quality.
George does not get the opportunity to approach the bumbling manservant—the dark haired boy is crashing into him at full speed at the first light—all the contents on George’s plate splattering to the ground and all over Merlin and Himself. George already has a reprimand ready on his tongue before the boy is apologizing profusely. “Gods, that’s my fault, mate.” Merlin is unhooking his wirey handkerchief revealing a long slender neck and sinking collarbones that give George pause. Merlin is repeatedly apologizing but George barely hears it with the blood rushing to his head.
Merlin steps closer to George—and without any consideration for personal space begins wiping George's face with his handkerchief like he was something delicate.
“I never look where I’m going. This place is like a damn maze. I get all tossed around.” Merlin shoots him a charming apologetic smile and George realizes with embarrassing irony that his smile is charming. Merlin, despite his big mousy ears and shaggy hair and overall farmish demeanor, has a charming smile that seems to paralyze George.
“It’s—“ George makes the mistake of looking at Merlin in the eye— his blue eyes. Merlin’s blue eyes dart down George’s body—surely to asses if he has any more questionable stains on his clothes from their crash. Regardless of this reasoning George feels flustered and embarrassed by the boy's precise gaze. “—quite alright.”
George is a professional so he takes a step back and goes to pick up the mess from the ground but Merlin beats him to it. Cleaning it up with fast awkward hands. “I got it. I made the mess.” Merlin, from the ground, shoots him another charming smile —damn him— “I got you.” He says simply. I got you.
Merlin leaves with another round of apologies and George stands in the hallway glaring at the handkerchief Merlin left in his hand.
George never speaks to Merlin again. For the betterment of the castle. They cannot have two fools running the castle. One of them must stay efficient. George cannot lose his head to a charming impish smile.