helicon_grove | 'cause I like to keep my issues drawn;

[When the loud clatter of the tray being set none-too-gently onto the table doesn't even make Arthur stir, Merlin knows something needs to be done. The prince-turned-regent had always been a dedicated worker when it comes to managing the kingdom, but he'd managed to cross the line between dedicated and severely overworked in the past few days. Being the first and last person to see Arthur every day, excluding special circumstances, Merlin's position allows him to see this change the most clearly.

And see it he does, though all the wordless gestures of concern--blowing out most of the candles at a decent hour when he noticed the change in sleep patterns, heaping more of Arthur's favourites onto the meal trays when he forgot to eat--had apparently gone unnoticed or ignored. Now, after a week of erratic behavior from Arthur, and a few days of fretting as a result, Merlin's just about had enough. The prat's obviously gone and worn himself out, and Merlin's not sure how much more of this unreasonable schedule Arthur's body can take.

A second passes as Merlin glances between the tray and Arthur's sleeping form. In the end, sleep wins that debate; food can always be reheated with a discreet warming spell, but who knows when Arthur would let himself sleep again. With an exasperated roll of the eyes, Merlin digs a warm cloak out of the wardrobe and settles it around Arthur's shoulders.]

Clotpole. [His hands gently smooth the wrinkles out of the heavy fabric, voice a whisper.] And you call me an idiot.

[ The clattering doesn't stir him, nor the smell of food, but rather the warmth that seems to envelop him suddenly. It's heavy and familiar and incredibly annoying. He hums just a little, relaxing into it with a tired smile. ]

's because you are an idiot.

[ Arthur speaks sleepily, and it's fairly clear that he's not really awake. In fact, it rather takes him a moment to realise he even spoke at all, a fact that has him blinking wide awake and sitting up immediately. Back straight and proper, as though he'd never fallen asleep to begin with, his eyes dart about the room for a moment before a frown forms on his lips. ]

I wasn't sleeping.

[ A lame statement, an entirely false declaration, because the Prince Regent does not sleep on the job. Good God, how much time had he wasted? There's a Super Important Somethingorother he's got to finish, and oh fuck, there must be something foul in his mouth from the looks of it because he is not about to yawn. ]

[The sleepy reply, admittedly, scares Merlin so much that it forces him to take a step back, hands dropping from Arthur's shoulders like they just got burned. Luck is on his side for this, at least; Arthur seems too disoriented from his nap to notice what Merlin had been doing. Picking up on this, Merlin edges his way around the desk, making for the tray now that the prince is awake.]

Of course you weren't. It must've been a lot easier to see those tiny words on the parchment when you had your face pressed up against them.

[There's a cautious, not-quite smile on his lips as he brings the tray over. It isn't his usual, bright smile, but the air between them isn't as tense as it's been since the picnic, and that's something that hasn't escaped Merlin's notice.]

Right. Of course.

[ Arthur's too tired to take notice - the retreat, the tray or even the smile. He simply attempts to blink away the exhaustion and tries to focus on said parchment, but the words blur together and make little to no sense whatsoever and look far better as a pillow and then Arthur just can't help it.

He yawns.

It comes accompanied with the slightest of stretches, sleepy tears beading in the corners of his eyes, and that's when he notices the cloak around his shoulders. He thinks back to the warmth that roused him and looks back up at Merlin, his image slightly blurred beneath the glaze across Arthur's eyes. Warmth. He purses his lips a little. ]

All right, so maybe I was asleep.

[ He groans and pulls the cloak tighter about him, leaning back in his seat and shutting his eyes again. His voice sounds as though it might've been demanding at some point but it really just comes across as that same mid-sleep mumbling. ]

You should've woken me. I've got work to do.

You always have work to do.

[Merlin sets the tray down in front of Arthur with more force than necessary. The plates clatter, though the silence of the room quickly swallows the sound up. Half of him hopes the noise irritates Arthur, and the other half...also hopes the noise irritates Arthur. What does the prat think he's doing by looking so approachable when he really isn't?]

Arthur, you've got to stop. You've barely slept or eaten in the past few days, don't think I didn't notice. [A hand comes up to gesture at the parchment agitatedly.] And that! The council wants the grain reports, yes, but not until at least a week from now. You're doing work that doesn't need to be done right now and exhausting yourself in the process.

[Merlin braces his hands against the desk, leaning forward with an expression drawn with worry.] Why are you doing this to yourself?

[ The noise does startle him, and his eyes flash open to where Merlin is practically leering at him. It brings him back to that day, that look in his eyes, and the same uncomfortable twisting wells up in his stomach. But he doesn't look away, doesn't try to hide. Maybe he's too tired to try. ]

I don't know, Merlin.

[ Simple, honest, blunt, because Arthur's tired, in far more ways than one. He stands, letting the cloak fall to the chair and spill onto the floor as he walks over to sit on his bed. ]

Come here. Remove my boots for me.

[If the way Merlin simply purses his lips before walking silently over to do as he's told doesn't speak volumes about his worry for Arthur, not much else will. The boots come off with some stubborn tugging, and Merlin sets them to the side, then resumes his hovering.]

You're not eating?

[Merlin doesn't hide the reproach in his voice. When's the last time Arthur had eaten, anyway? He's almost certain the tray from earlier had practically been untouched, as well, and that was hours ago.]

[ The second his boots are off, Arthur pulls off his shirt and tosses it at Merlin, laying down on his stomach with a sigh and pulling himself up to curl around his pillows. So much more comfortable than his arms and the desk. He shuts his eyes against the disdain in Merlin's voice - he knows, he's just so bloody tired. ]

I'll eat later. Just ... sit.

[To Merlin's shock, he has a difficult time pulling his eyes away from the expanse of skin Arthur's so suddenly and casually revealed to him. His mouth has no right to be feeling dry at what should be a familiar sight--how many times has he helped Arthur dress and undress before this?

Damn it, Arthur.

Ever since that kiss, it's felt as if something in him had changed without his knowing. Merlin would be lying if he said he hadn't noticed Arthur's appeal before all this, but it's one thing to notice and another thing to want. So many things that had been natural between them have turned awkward, and Merlin's grown to dislike the way he has to double check the way he handles Arthur. Like the way he finds himself dubiously eying the unoccupied space on the bed instead of plopping himself right down like he would have a week ago.]

I'll bring something fresh up from the kitchens later. [Merlin says, gingerly perching himself at the edge of the bed, turning his body to face Arthur.]

[ It's not a conscious thing - more a habit, something effected out of comfort. That's what it always is with Merlin, comfort and habit. When did they fall into a routine? Arthur doesn't even shift with the added weight to the bed; he just settles in further, relaxing more. ]

Let the cooks rest - and I'll not have anything made by your hand. What you brought is fine.

[ Though his sleepy tone suggests it really doesn't matter either way, he likely won't be eating it. Much as he'd like to just slip back into sleep, though, Arthur peeks up at Merlin and wraps his arms around his pillow tighter instinctively. There's that odd urge to reach out and touch him again, but after the last week, he's doing his best to contain it.

Well, as much as he can. ]

Will you stay?

[ The question comes unexpectedly, spoken without thought and he really ought to stop doing that. Arthur clears his throat a bit. ]

I mean, clearly you don't have to. If Gaius has work for you or ... something.

[ Dear God, how utterly lame. He turns his face into his pillow, immediately regretting having said anything at all. Maybe if he falls asleep now, Merlin won't have a chance to note what a complete imbecile he is and he can chalk it all up to sleep talking. As if that'd really make it much better, asking your servant to stay with you in your sleep. Honestly, Arthur Pendragon.

If Merlin hears a small huff of frustration muted by the pillows, it's his imagination and nothing more. ]

[A second stunned silence in the span of a week--If Arthur weren't being so serious about all of this, Merlin could almost suspect an elaborate plot to figure out the best way to shut Merlin up. Since it's obviously not, though, Merlin settles for staring at Arthur's back.

Had he heard correctly?]

You...want me to stay. Here.

[Merlin says this slowly, leaving out the "in your bed?" that his brain is so helpfully supplying him with. At most, Arthur just wants someone in the room with him; to think Arthur would want his servant sharing a bed with him, even innocently, when he's been avoiding any form of contact all week is pretty unbelievable.]

No. No, I never said that. In fact, I've changed my mind entirely. You're fired. Banished. -- Gods, just shut up, Merlin.

[ The tips of his ears most certainly have not gone red; Arthur buries his head beneath the pillow to drown out anything stupid Merlin might have to say, not to hide any sort of avid embarrassment.

And embarrassing, it is. How is he meant to explain that he's only ever comfortable around his servant? Arthur hasn't rested in God knows how long, and he thinks that maybe, just maybe, having him here might help. The Prince Regent, proper and composed in all ways but just this one: here, alone, with Merlin.

'Just Arthur' may be nothing more than an idle dream, but these moments are the closest he ever gets. ]

[Merlin's known Arthur too long for the defensive act to put him off the scent. After sitting back a bit, with a raised brow, a small smile starts spreading across his lips.]

You really want me to stay. [Emboldened by Arthur's response, he pulls the pillow away, grinning harder when he catches sight of the red ears.]

You can just ask--I won't laugh, I promise.

I've already asked, so just lay down or get out.

[ Good God, you are the worst, Merlin. Arthur grabs the pillow back and hits him with it, then rolls away. ]

[Instead of squeaking with indignation like he normally would, Merlin just takes the hit and clutches the pillow, grin still in place.

Lie down? Really?]

You're going to push me off the bed and deny this ever happened tomorrow, won't you?

[Despite that, Merlin tugs his boots off and gingerly lowers himself onto the covers. He's still in his normal clothes, and he'd rather not have to clean the dust off the sheets when Arthur complained the next day. At least the night is warm enough that he's comfortable even without something covering him.]

That would be the plan, yes.

[ Arthur lies, keeping his back to Merlin and curling up around one of the other pillows. He's being a brat, but an undeniable smile (light, lazy, because he is still so very tired) forms on his lips when he hears the click on Merlin's boots on the floor and the give in mattress.

Once he's properly settled, Arthur jabs backwards towards with one elbow playfully, grinning just a little as he shuts his eyes. ]

[This time, the squeak does come, followed by a light jab to Arthur's arm in return.]

What, you're too tired to work, but not tired enough to mistreat me still?

[Merlin huffs, turning his back to Arthur and stuffing the other fluffy pillow under his head.]

I do not mistreat you.

[ And then Arthur goes quiet a second, readjusting his pillow beneath his head if only to keep his hands busy for a second. ]

But you are right about the first bit.

[That gets Merlin to look over his shoulder.]

I must be more tired than I thought. I could've sworn you just said I was right about something.

Oh, shut up.

[ He rolls onto his back and slaps Merlin's arm. ]

You are extraordinarily talented at ruining things, did you know that? Your one and only talent, and it's driving me up a wall.

[ His tone does not suggest that this is entirely a bad thing, though. ]

Oy, I have other talents!

[Like magic, not that Arthur knows about that one. Merlin throws a scowl over his shoulder, determined not to roll over and face Arthur.]

I've learned a lot since I got here, didn't I?

[ He's not going to notice either way - his eyes are closed and his hands are folded on his chest. ]

I suppose you've learned a few things. You're halfway competent at assembling my armour, and you've become much better at target practise.

["Halfway competent"--the nerve! Merlin snorts before he can stop it.]

Maybe you should be practising with the targets, since that's what they're there for.

[ Another sleepy smile forms on Arthur's lips at the snort. ]

Don't be such a child. It builds strength. And character.

It does not. It just builds more aches and bruises.

[For that, Arthur gets a nudge to the shoulder.]

You and Gaius, making things up just so I'll do what you want.

You're my servant. That's sort of the point.

[ He gets a nudge back, but Arthur starting to slur his words as he gets sleepier, and he doesn't pull back afterwards. ]

Since when did servant become training dummy?

[The dry tone turns just a bit puzzled when he feels Arthur's warmth lingering at his back. Merlin turns his head, smiling when he sees Arthur's face.]

Since when could a servant question his master?

[ Except that, y'know, Arthur makes exceptions for Merlin all the time. Like now, as he's falling asleep at his back. ]

Since the master decided he would get terribly bored without his servant.

[There's a softness to his words that wasn't there before, and Merlin might be turning his body toward Arthur. Just a little bit.]

'm never --

[ He trails off and rolls back onto his stomach towards Merlin, burying his hands beneath his pillows. ]

-- you're not --

[ Arthur's trying to stay away, honestly, but he's leaning against Merlin and it's warm even without the covers and God, is the bed comfortable. ]

-- bored.

[ Aaand he's out with a soft exhale. ]

[Broken bits of sentences and slurring of words or not, Merlin gets the gist of it. It doesn't take long for Arthur's even breathing to lull Merlin into sleep, as well.]

--

[The feeling of being a little too warm pulls Merlin into the hazy state of not-quite-awake, and Merlin's a little confused by it. Since when does his thin blanket keep in this much heat? Merlin pushes the blanket away unhappily--he'd deal with it later--only to feel it shift right back in to place.

...what?

Merlin tries it again, and this time, feels even more entangled in the cloth than before. Baffled, he opens his eyes and comes face to face with skin. A lot of it. Tensing in dread and surprise, Merlin yanks himself into complete wakefulness just as he finally reaches a conclusion. He'd fallen asleep in Arthur's room...so the only explanation is that they'd moved in their sleep and gotten much closer during the night.

Merlin gives an experimental wiggle, but Arthur's grip on him doesn't loosen one bit. Well. This is awkward.]

[ Arthur, on the otherhand, may as well be comatose for how deep a sleep he's found. Whether it was the extent of his physical exhaustion or Merlin's presense beside him in the bed, he finally managed to rest, and even Merlin's stirring doesn't manage to wake him from it.

He does shift, though, curling around what he believes to be his pillow even closer. His hand wraps lower around Merlin's waist in an attempt to pull him closer, turning his nose into his hair the way he would his pillows to hide from the sunlight streaming into the room. The smell of something familiar, comfortable, warm, elicits the slightest of hums from him.

Yet still, Arthur does not wake. ]

[While Arthur's still blissfully ignorant of the real world, Merlin's face grows steadily warmer as Arthur pulls him closer, taking away any chance of escaping unnoticed. Resigned, he tucks his reddening face against Arthur's neck. Being held like this feels a lot better than he'd ever imagined, and he's reluctant to break this moment.

On the other hand, he doesn't think Arthur would appreciate waking up like this. So, what should he do? Another wiggle--just as ineffective as last time.

It's all Merlin can do to remind himself not to be too pleased at the inability to escape. Biting back a sigh, Merlin forces himself to relax and close his eyes again. Whether he likes it or not, it looks as if he has to stay until Arthur himself wakes up.]

[ Fret not for too much longer, Merlin. Your shifting is finally starting to irritate the prince, and his brows furrow slightly in his sleep. ]

Shut up, Merlin.

[ Is apparently the only conscious thought he manages, too deep into his slumber to register anything else, just like before. It's not until he's shifting again, seeking out that vaguely familiar comfort, and his lips brush against the top of Merlin's head that Arthur finally wakes, eyes flashing open and his entire body freezing.

This is his room. This is his bed. That is his servant.

So much for holding back that urge to close the distance between them. He's gone too far, again, and all at once, Arthur releases Merlin and retreats backwards as far as the bed will allow - and then some.

He slips off the side of the bed, managing to grab one of the pillows on his way down but not in time enough to stop his head meeting the nightstand. A loud, irritated groan can be heard, but it's quickly muffled by his pulling the pillow over his head.

Leave him here to die. Please. For the love of Camelot. ]

[Any thoughts of feigning sleep and ignorance fly out the window as soon as Arthur goes crashing off the bed. Caught between worry and mirth, Merlin slips off the bed and pads around to Arthur's side, kneeling beside him.]

You all right, Arthur?

[Merlin has to bite back a smile while tugging the pillow away. Once it's out of the way, he leans in, carefully running a hand through Arthur's hair. Then he sits back with a sigh of relief.]

You'll have a bump there, and wearing a helmet during practice will probably be painful, but it doesn't look so bad.

[ Even with the rough start, Arthur is still dazed enough to lean into Merlin's touch, turning toward his hand until he remembers what he was doing just a moment ago. The red flush returns in spades and he covers his face with both hands. ]

If only it had killed me.

[No hiding the fond smile now, especially when Arthur responds to his touch like that. At least Arthur isn't the only one with a red face, though Merlin's blush has mostly faded by now.]

You'll help no one if you get yourself killed like this.

[One last run through Arthur's hair and Merlin's hand finally pulls away.]

If you're hungry, I'll fetch something from the kitchens. They should be awake now, and everything I brought up during the night's gone all soggy.

[ Arthur huffs indignantly, irritated and embarrassed yet again, but it doesn't stop him from having the same reaction to Merlin brushing through his hair. It's like a natural instinct, letting his eyes flutter closed and leaning into the touch.

Merlin is going to be the ruin of him.

He sits up with another groan and rubs at the sore spot on his head. ]

Yes, that's ... fine. Good.

[ Good Lord. He holds up a threatening finger. ]

Not a word of this to anyone, understood?

Wouldn't dream of it, sire.

[Though, the amused tone says otherwise, there's no way Merlin's going to be spilling this to anyone. This is special--a little side of Arthur to keep for himself when the prince gives everything else to his kingdom.]

You think you can dress yourself while I'm getting breakfast, or do you want to wait until I come back?

[Merlin grins, ready to duck any thrown objects, if the need arises.]

Tell me something, Merlin - are you particularly fond of breathing?

[ Nothing is thrown - instead, Arthur musses up his hair roughly, but something about the action makes heat rise to his cheeks again, and he shoves Merlin's head away. ]

Go. Now.

Well, it's nice to be able to breathe. [The cheekiness doesn't fade as Merlin attempts to smooth his hair down.] All right, I'm going!

[A second later, he pops his head back in, looking innocent.] You sure you can manage the clothes on your own?

[Shoots a grin Arthur's way, and hastily ducks back out, shutting the door behind him.]

[ This time, Arthur does throw something, and Merlin just barely gets the door closed in time for another of Sir Geoffrey's books to fall victim to Merlin's stupidity (not Arthur's anger, because it's always Merlin's fault).

Once he's gone and well out of sight, Arthur sits on the edge of the bed and hangs his head in his hands, because he is far from out of mind. It was an accident, yes, that's all, nothing more. He'll just have to be more careful before it gets anymore out of hand.

Still, Arthur smiles just a little bit and fetches a new shirt from his dresser, feeling far more rested and at peace than he has in the past few days.

Merlin's fault. Certainly.

And that can't really be called a bad thing. ]

'cause I like to keep my issues drawn;

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AND THEN A TIMESKIP

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