Bright Waters Meet, Merlin FanFic
TITLE: Bright Waters Meet
RATING: PG
WORD COUNT: 985
CHARACTERS: Arthur/Merlin
WARNINGS: none.
SUMMARY: In which Merlin and Arthur are both wet and at least one of them is slightly grumpy about it.
AO3 Link | Master Fic List
Disclaimer: I own nothing but a whole lot of student loan debt.
Author's Note: Written for a prompt by canarypaper. Title from a Thomas Moore poem that I randomly came across the other day.
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“You know, if you were going to save us by way of a giant, magical wall of water, you could have at least ensured we weren’t in the way of it,” Arthur grumbled. Merlin shot a glare at his royal highness.
“I was a little busy making sure you weren’t beheaded, sire,” he shot back. He winced as a heavy step made his shoulder jolt and throb and ignored what might have actually been a concerned look from Arthur. They were both waterlogged and limping, though Merlin was positive he’d managed to shield Arthur from the worst of it.
“Oh yes, I’ve kept my head...and nearly drowned with it!” Merlin stopped in his tracks, closing his eyes and trying to take a deep breath to calm himself. Unfortunately, the deep breath turned into a coughing fit, the excess water sitting in his lungs deciding it was as good a time as any to make an escape. When Merlin finally managed to open watery eyes as the coughing subsided, he found himself face-to-face with a worried looking Arthur.
“You’re shivering,” Arthur declared. Merlin did his best to demand his body cease the involuntary movement.
“Am not,” he said defensively. Arthur rolled his eyes and stepped away and Merlin glared after him, annoyed that the prince still looked obnoxiously put-together for having been swept down a magical river. He wasn’t shivering or coughing or doing anything but looking like a righteous, royal ass, as always.
“You could at least magic our clothes dry,” Arthur went on with his grumbling as they resumed their hike through the forest. Merlin tried to fight the blush he felt rising in his cheeks.
“I...uh...tired already,” he muttered quietly. Arthur stopped walking and stared at him. The magic thing wasn’t exactly new to Arthur; but the two young men had both been very careful in the past few months at Not Mentioning It. Arthur only ever brought it up when he needed something. Merlin mostly never brought it up at all.
“Are you...broken?” Arthur asked, sounding uncomfortable for even mentioning it.
“Dunno,” Merlin admitted. He wanted to expand upon the comment and add that in all the many injuries he’d had since his arrival in Camelot his magic had never left him like this. It didn’t even make sense - he’d barely suffered a few bruises; swallowed a bit of water. He certainly hadn’t been poisoned or struck through with a bolt of magic or any of the other things he’d been through. Things much worse that hadn’t blocked him from his magic.
Merlin started shivering again. Arthur stopped with a loud sigh and grabbed hold of Merlin’s arm, shoving his manservant down onto a nearby rock.
“Stay,” he ordered Merlin. Merlin scowled after him, but found he was too tired to do much more as he watched Arthur gather what looked like the makings of a campfire.
“I am capable of looking after myself from time-to-time, you know,” Arthur said as he caught Merlin watching him.
“It’s just that you do it so rarely, your highness,” Merlin told him. He fought a grin at Arthur’s murderous look. Soon enough, Arthur had a happy little fire going. Merlin gave a shudder as the first hint of warmth hit him. Arthur came around and perched carefully next to Merlin on the rock and Merlin let out an involuntary sigh at the added body heat. It really wasn’t his fault his body craved the warmth so badly.
“Camelot’s only about half a day east,” Arthur announced as they both watched the fire. “Looks like it’ll be dark soon - we might as well rest here for the night and get a fresh start in the morning.” Merlin glanced at Arthur out of the corner of his eye. The prince was being suspiciously civil at the moment. Merlin knew from far too much experience that it couldn’t last long.
Arthur caught his glance and frowned at him. “What?” he demanded. Merlin sighed as he realized he may have accelerated Arthur’s mood back to grumpy and ungrateful.
“Nothing,” Merlin muttered, forcing himself to stare back into the fire. He looked down in surprise when he felt fingers brush against his own where they rested on his thigh. Looking up, he found Arthur watching him closely. Without a word, Arthur leaned in and pressed their mouths together. Merlin leaned into the kiss for just a moment before he remembered with a start he was kissing Arthur. The realization was startling enough Merlin fell off the rock, landing on the forest floor with a thud. He blinked up at Arthur in a daze, mind whirling as it tried to process what had just happened.
With an exasperated look that Merlin was very well acquainted with, Arthur crouched down next to his manservant. “You really are an idiot,” he murmured, hand reaching out to gently cup Merlin’s cheek. Merlin couldn’t help but lean into the touch. Arthur’s fingers were so warm...
It hit Merlin, quite suddenly, that his magic hadn’t fled him, it’d merely been sulking, embarrassed at its botched attempt to save Arthur from that band of mercenaries. Arthur’s touch coaxed it back to the surface, warming Merlin as it spread from his cheek to the rest of his body and settled in interesting places.
“I suppose it’s good I’m your idiot, then,” Merlin found himself saying. Arthur grinned at him and leaned in to kiss him again. Clothes dried and bruises mended but neither man cared enough to break away. It occurred to Merlin, as Arthur’s tongue sought access to his own, that his magic could very easily get them to Camelot by sundown. But Arthur was always lecturing him on how servants must never interrupt princes and Merlin couldn’t think of a better time to begin being the obedient servant Arthur had always dreamt of.
/end
RATING: PG
WORD COUNT: 985
CHARACTERS: Arthur/Merlin
WARNINGS: none.
SUMMARY: In which Merlin and Arthur are both wet and at least one of them is slightly grumpy about it.
AO3 Link | Master Fic List
Disclaimer: I own nothing but a whole lot of student loan debt.
Author's Note: Written for a prompt by canarypaper. Title from a Thomas Moore poem that I randomly came across the other day.
-----------------------------
“You know, if you were going to save us by way of a giant, magical wall of water, you could have at least ensured we weren’t in the way of it,” Arthur grumbled. Merlin shot a glare at his royal highness.
“I was a little busy making sure you weren’t beheaded, sire,” he shot back. He winced as a heavy step made his shoulder jolt and throb and ignored what might have actually been a concerned look from Arthur. They were both waterlogged and limping, though Merlin was positive he’d managed to shield Arthur from the worst of it.
“Oh yes, I’ve kept my head...and nearly drowned with it!” Merlin stopped in his tracks, closing his eyes and trying to take a deep breath to calm himself. Unfortunately, the deep breath turned into a coughing fit, the excess water sitting in his lungs deciding it was as good a time as any to make an escape. When Merlin finally managed to open watery eyes as the coughing subsided, he found himself face-to-face with a worried looking Arthur.
“You’re shivering,” Arthur declared. Merlin did his best to demand his body cease the involuntary movement.
“Am not,” he said defensively. Arthur rolled his eyes and stepped away and Merlin glared after him, annoyed that the prince still looked obnoxiously put-together for having been swept down a magical river. He wasn’t shivering or coughing or doing anything but looking like a righteous, royal ass, as always.
“You could at least magic our clothes dry,” Arthur went on with his grumbling as they resumed their hike through the forest. Merlin tried to fight the blush he felt rising in his cheeks.
“I...uh...tired already,” he muttered quietly. Arthur stopped walking and stared at him. The magic thing wasn’t exactly new to Arthur; but the two young men had both been very careful in the past few months at Not Mentioning It. Arthur only ever brought it up when he needed something. Merlin mostly never brought it up at all.
“Are you...broken?” Arthur asked, sounding uncomfortable for even mentioning it.
“Dunno,” Merlin admitted. He wanted to expand upon the comment and add that in all the many injuries he’d had since his arrival in Camelot his magic had never left him like this. It didn’t even make sense - he’d barely suffered a few bruises; swallowed a bit of water. He certainly hadn’t been poisoned or struck through with a bolt of magic or any of the other things he’d been through. Things much worse that hadn’t blocked him from his magic.
Merlin started shivering again. Arthur stopped with a loud sigh and grabbed hold of Merlin’s arm, shoving his manservant down onto a nearby rock.
“Stay,” he ordered Merlin. Merlin scowled after him, but found he was too tired to do much more as he watched Arthur gather what looked like the makings of a campfire.
“I am capable of looking after myself from time-to-time, you know,” Arthur said as he caught Merlin watching him.
“It’s just that you do it so rarely, your highness,” Merlin told him. He fought a grin at Arthur’s murderous look. Soon enough, Arthur had a happy little fire going. Merlin gave a shudder as the first hint of warmth hit him. Arthur came around and perched carefully next to Merlin on the rock and Merlin let out an involuntary sigh at the added body heat. It really wasn’t his fault his body craved the warmth so badly.
“Camelot’s only about half a day east,” Arthur announced as they both watched the fire. “Looks like it’ll be dark soon - we might as well rest here for the night and get a fresh start in the morning.” Merlin glanced at Arthur out of the corner of his eye. The prince was being suspiciously civil at the moment. Merlin knew from far too much experience that it couldn’t last long.
Arthur caught his glance and frowned at him. “What?” he demanded. Merlin sighed as he realized he may have accelerated Arthur’s mood back to grumpy and ungrateful.
“Nothing,” Merlin muttered, forcing himself to stare back into the fire. He looked down in surprise when he felt fingers brush against his own where they rested on his thigh. Looking up, he found Arthur watching him closely. Without a word, Arthur leaned in and pressed their mouths together. Merlin leaned into the kiss for just a moment before he remembered with a start he was kissing Arthur. The realization was startling enough Merlin fell off the rock, landing on the forest floor with a thud. He blinked up at Arthur in a daze, mind whirling as it tried to process what had just happened.
With an exasperated look that Merlin was very well acquainted with, Arthur crouched down next to his manservant. “You really are an idiot,” he murmured, hand reaching out to gently cup Merlin’s cheek. Merlin couldn’t help but lean into the touch. Arthur’s fingers were so warm...
It hit Merlin, quite suddenly, that his magic hadn’t fled him, it’d merely been sulking, embarrassed at its botched attempt to save Arthur from that band of mercenaries. Arthur’s touch coaxed it back to the surface, warming Merlin as it spread from his cheek to the rest of his body and settled in interesting places.
“I suppose it’s good I’m your idiot, then,” Merlin found himself saying. Arthur grinned at him and leaned in to kiss him again. Clothes dried and bruises mended but neither man cared enough to break away. It occurred to Merlin, as Arthur’s tongue sought access to his own, that his magic could very easily get them to Camelot by sundown. But Arthur was always lecturing him on how servants must never interrupt princes and Merlin couldn’t think of a better time to begin being the obedient servant Arthur had always dreamt of.
/end