The Wanking Comment Fest
So earlier, I took the Arthur Wank Pledge, which I'm very excited about. However, I figured there was no harm in being an equal opportunity voyeur, right?
Also, Twitter encouraged me, and we all know how THAT ends, so.
Let The Wanking Comment Fest begin!Any fandom, any rating, any character or pairing as long as there's masturbation ( Read more... )
Also, Twitter encouraged me, and we all know how THAT ends, so.
Let The Wanking Comment Fest begin!Any fandom, any rating, any character or pairing as long as there's masturbation ( Read more... )
Merlin was normally rubbish at his duties, but with two broken fingers, he was even less competent than usual. The floors were unwashed ("I need two hands to scrub properly, Arthur!"), his breakfasts were meagre ("Look, if you don't want half your breakfast dropped on the floor, you can carry it your own damn self!"), his armour was dirty ("Can't polish with only one hand!"), and most worryingly, Merlin was infernally grouchy.
When they had returned from the trip twelve days ago, Merlin had been almost cheerful as Gaius bound up his hand. "This boar came charging up, and I swear it must have weighed half a tonne!" he had exclaimed, before throwing a fond smile in Arthur's direction. "More than Arthur, even!"
Arthur had scowled at the comment, but secretly he was simply relieved that Merlin had gotten away with only a few broken fingers. When he'd pushed Arthur out of the path of the stampeding boar, all Arthur could think of was Merlin being trampled under the animal's hooves or speared by its tusks.
As the days passed, however, Merlin's sunny disposition disappeared under a cloud of restlessness. Though Merlin seemed to be using his left hand for most things, Arthur saw Merlin wincing whenever he was forced to bend his wrist. Three days ago, when Gaius had checked on the recovery of Merlin's fingers, he'd pronounced that they still needed several more weeks to heal. Merlin's whining was so loud that it could probably have been heard throughout Camelot.
And today, of course, as Arthur stripped for the bath, Merlin's curses grew to epic levels. "I need my hand, Arthur!"
"Look," Arthur said, stepping out from behind the screen, a towel wrapped firmly about his waist, "of course you need your hand. Everyone needs hands, or we wouldn't be born with two."
Merlin simply pouted. "My left hand… isn't as good."
Arthur lifted an eyebrow as he dipped a toe tentatively in the bathwater. He'd learned caution since the boiling bath incident. Thankfully, the water was at the proper temperature, and so he eased his way in. "Of course it's not, Merlin. You've been using your right hand your entire life. Why would you expect your left hand to magically be just as good?"
Merlin stared at Arthur, bug-eyed. Oh, bollocks. Arthur had used the m-word. Merlin always seemed strangely sensitive to it. "You need to practise using your left hand."
As Arthur leaned over to place his towel on the floor next to the tub, he realised that Merlin was still staring. "Well? Are you going to help me wash, or are you going to leave me in peace so I can do it myself?"
Instead of Merlin's expected snarky comment about Arthur's inability to take care of himself even if he wanted to, Merlin simply clenched his jaw, straightened, and walked stiffly out of the room.
"Fine, then!" Arthur called to his retreating form. "See if I ever help you with your bath!"
As the door clicked shut behind Merlin, Arthur couldn't help but wonder about why Merlin's ears had been so red.
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Arthur chose to ignore Merlin's murderous expression. "Where have you been? My bath's gone cold." He rolled his eyes. "Honestly, Merlin, your incompetence knows no bounds."
Merlin was silent for a moment, gritting his teeth, before he stormed over to the bath and threw Arthur's towel over his head. "You can dry your own bloody self, Arthur! It's bad enough that I have to do everything one-handed without you flaunting your stupid… self!"
Arthur levered himself out of the tub, pulling the towel over his shoulders. Merlin was staring into the corner of the room, lips pinched tight together, brows furrowed, and arms crossed against his chest. The ridiculous wrapping on his right hand made him look like he was wearing some sort of mitten, and his left hand was trembling faintly. A vein pulsed in Merlin's temple. Arthur couldn't remember the last time he'd looked so frustrated. Possibly the time Arthur had dumped a bucket over Merlin's head.
"Merlin, what's bothering you? It's not just your hand."
Merlin let out a long breath. He still refused to look at Arthur, but his jaw unclenched and his face softened, the corners of his mouth twitched down in a frown. "If I could use my right hand, it wouldn't be a problem." He finally glanced over at Arthur. "Well, maybe a bit," he conceded. "But I'd be able to deal with it."
Arthur licked his lips, and Merlin's gaze flickered lower. They stood like that for several long moments, neither man moving, barely even breathing.
Then Merlin threw up his arms, exclaimed, "Bugger this!" and stormed out of the room.
It was not until an hour later, as Arthur lay tangled in the sheets of his bed, spent and embarrassed, that he realised why Merlin had been so grouchy lately.
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Gaius hoisted a thick eyebrow, and Arthur repressed a shudder. "He is in his quarters, but I believe he does not wish to be disturbed."
"Go away!" Merlin's voice echoed, muffled by the door.
"No!" Arthur said, and strolled over to Merlin's chambers. His first attempt to open the door was met with resistance. Apparently, Merlin did know there was such a thing as privacy, since he locked the door of his own chambers. "Let me in, Merlin," Arthur said.
He tried to keep the irritation from his voice, but presumably failed, since Merlin's immediate response was, "Fuck off!"
"Merlin," Arthur warned, "let me in or I will break down the door."
There was a pause. "You would not!"
"Would too. My father's the one who has to pay for repairs. I'm sure he'll understand when I explain that my manservant was being disobedient."
The click of the lock sounded, and Arthur pushed the door open, trying not to look too smug as he did so.
Merlin was curled up on his bed (wait, how did he unlock the door from over there?), pouting at Arthur. On anyone else (Morgana, Arthur's brain helpfully supplied) it would be irritating and childish. On Merlin, it was adorable.
"I know why you've been in such a foul mood, lately," Arthur said, without preamble.
"Oh?" Merlin asked, his glare deepening. "Do enlighten me."
"You're rubbish with your left hand."
Merlin rolled his eyes. "As ever, the prince stuns me with his wit and intellect."
Arthur simply waved a hand in the air dismissively and walked up to Merlin's bed. He sat down on the edge, close enough to touch Merlin if he reached out, but far enough away that there were a few inches of space between them. "That is to say, you're rubbish at one activity in particular."
Merlin paled, but he covered up his discomfort quickly with a snort. "Did you come all this way just to insult me, Arthur?"
"Obviously," Arthur quipped. "Though I thought you might like some assistance."
Merlin's eyes bugged out of his head as he turned to stare at Arthur. "A- assistance?"
"I can teach you how to use your left hand properly." Arthur wiggled the fingers of his own left hand at Merlin. "I'm quite proficient at it, after all."
Merlin's impression of a goldfish was getting more uncanny by the second. His mouth was now gaping open. "No! What are you--" He shook his head frantically. "Get out of my room, Arthur!"
Arthur was finding it increasingly difficult to remember why he had come in here in the first place. Ah, yes. Because Merlin was in a foul mood, and Arthur planned to remedy that. "I'm just trying to be a good friend."
"GET. OUT."
Arthur sprang up from the bed. If looks could kill, Merlin would be slicing open Arthur's skull right now with the daggers in his eyes.
"Fine!" Arthur said. "But the offer stands! That is to say. If you need a helping hand…"
"OUT!"
Arthur wasted no time in rushing out the door, but he did lay back against the outside of it as he waited for his heart beat to slow.
And if he happened to hear some suspicious sounding grunts and slapping of flesh, well…
Oh, who was he kidding. Arthur practically had his ear pressed to the door.
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"What is that infernal racket?" Arthur moaned, clutching the duvet and pulling it over his head.
"Good morning!"
Arthur simply growled and tried to ignore the various clatters and thumps emanating from Merlin. This was made more difficult when the man started blathering. "I brought you breakfast, sire. Eggs this morning, freshly laid! Cook was quite pleased, himself."
"Merlin."
"Oh! And I was speaking with Sir Leon, and he was saying that there are several new recruits he has an eye on. He invited them to join today's training, so you can see if they're up to snuff."
"Merlin."
"I think you should give them a chance, sire. After all, you can always use more knights. Considering the death rate around here."
"Merlin!"
"Yes?" Arthur could picture Merlin's face, pasted with a sunny smile. He didn't bother removing the blankets to actually observe this, however.
"Do shut up."
"Apologies, sire," Merlin said, and Arthur could hear the ridiculous grin. "But I thought we should get an early start on the day. I've been neglecting my duties as of late."
Arthur whimpered as the duvet was torn out of his hands, and his eyes were subjected to the sunlight now streaming from the window. "Why do I have to be punished simply because you are a terrible manservant?"
Merlin simply hummed in response, some idiotic campfire ballad that the knights had been singing a few weeks ago. His grin would simply not go away.
Arthur briefly contemplated breaking the fingers on Merlin's other hand, before reluctantly rolling out of bed.
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(The comment has been removed)
(Gaius brought him ice cream. Obviously.)
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And yes, perhaps Merlin just needed a bit of inspiration. :D
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Although obnoxiously cheerful Merlin is also near and dear to my heart.
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