merthur microfic: "kiss it better"
3 times merlin mockingly asked Arthur if he should "kiss it better" and the one time he actually did
1. arthur cuts himself on a piece of parchment
Arthur exclaimed a series of curses, putting his thumb up to his mouth to catch the blood. "I've cut myself," he mumbled around it, sounding like a petulant child.
"Oh no," Merlin clutched his chest theatrically. "Do you want me to kiss it better?"
The memory of Athur's scowl kept Merlin grinning all throughout the afternoon he spent in the stocks.
2. arthur bumps his head on the doorway
"Gods above," Arthur mumbled, muttering a series of curses underneath his breath. "Who builds doorways like this? In Camelot, I never have to duck my head." He rubbed his head where he had bumped it against the frame and shuffled into the dingy room of the inn they were staying at on the way back from Cendred's kingdom.
Merlin, who was already busy fluffing up the pillows to see which one was better aka the one he would keep for himself, chuckled. "Aww poor Arthur, do you want me to kiss it better? We wouldn't want your head to grow even bigger than it already is, would we now?"
Almost involuntarily, Arthur released an astounded chuckle. It never ceased to amaze him how Merlin had completely zero regard for his royal status. "I could put you in the stocks for that," he threatened and Merlin's grin grew even wider, knowing, by now, that this had become nothing but an empty threat, spoken solely for the pleasure of bickering, the foundation of the friendship they had forged over the years.
He sent a pillow flying the king's way. It bumped onto his chest and fell to the floor. "Oh no," Arthur grinned, picking it up and lunging across the room to exact his revenge. "I'm gonna get you." Merlin shrieked and tried to hide behind his arms at the onslaught. After the scuffle, Merlin somehow found himself in posession of both pillows and reluctantly relinquished his claim on the better one. He didn't mention that, of course.
3. arthur stubs his toe on the dresser
"MERLIN," Arthur bellowed.
"Yes, my lord?" Merlin looked up from where he was busy polishing Arthur's armour. Lately, Arthur insisted that Merlin should complete most of his duties in Arthur's rooms, claiming his supervision was necessary and that Merlin couldn't be trusted not to just sneak off to the tavern. Merlin didn't mind. In fact, he enjoyed the company. And a small part of him was determined that Arthur did too, wondering if (hoping) that was the real reason he wanted to keep him close by.
"Did you move the dresser? I stubbed my toe on it." Arthur scowled.
"I cannot say that I did although I would love to claim responsibility for your latest ailment."
"You're at the core of most of my ailments, that's for sure." Arthur said, sitting down on the edge of his bed to examine his foot.
"You know, usually I would ask you if you want me to kiss it better, but..." he gave an exaggerated grimace, gesturing to Arthur's foot.
Arthur was fighting hard to keep the scowl on his face. "You know, Merlin, most people would dream of the honor to kiss at their king's feet."
"Yeah, well I'm not most people."
"That is true," Arthur mused thoughtfully.
"In fact, I am one of the few people who know that your next bath is long overdue and-"
Within milliseconds Arthur had lunged across the room, capturing Merlin in a headlock.
"Let me go," Merlin cried out, laughing all the way through the knuckles brushing over his hair, tousling it in the process.
"Never," Arthur laughed gleefully.
+1 merlin kisses it better
Merlin's childhood home was dimly lit and he was sitting on a makeshift chair next to his old cot. In the low light of the fire, he could see every glistening droplet on Arthur's skin. Arthur was writhing on the bed, falling in and out of consciousness and muttering something unintelligible that sounded a lot like "More linen".
Hunith was outside, getting more water, knowing that Merlin wouldn't leave Arthur's side anytime soon. He held a hand up against his head, feeling the temperature there. It was rising steadily. A tear escaped his eye and rolled down his cheek as he wrung his hands. This couldn't be the end of the once and future king. A simple wound from a bandit's dirty knife. Carefully, Merlin reached out to roll up the hem of Arthur's tunic. "It's okay, it's gonna be okay," he said soothingly as Arthur stirred in his delirium. He lifted the dressing from the stabwound and inhaled sharply. The cut was merely a line, not even wider than a centimeter. And though it showed none of the usual signs of infection apart from slightly reddened skin, Arthur seemed to be on the brink of sepsis.
"I don't know what to do," Merlin admitted into the quiet of the hut, his tears coming more steadily now. If his theory was correct and the tip of the dagger had been poisoned, it didn't look well for Arthur. A remedy would need to be brought from Camelot but which remedy was Gaius supposed to prepare when Merlin didn't even know the nature of the poison. Arthur's breaths grew more ragged by the second. "More linen," he insisted, or something like it.
Merlin would never know what had come over him in that moment but as the tears carved rivers of salt over his cheeks until they merged on his chin, he leant over Arthur's body and pressed his lips to the thin red line on his torso. Arthur's chest moved with his shaky inhales and Merlin closed his eyes, pouring all of his heart into where his lips connected to Arthur's skin, letting his tears pool there. Please let him be okay, he begged, not knowing which goddess to address his prayers to. I can't loose him. He's my-
"Merlin?" A hand found his hair of head, threading fingers through his hair with barely any strength.
"Arthur?" Merlin shot up, clasping the hand to his chest before it could fall down from his head. The white sheen receded from Arthur's eyes, making him seem more lucid by the second.
"Heyyyy," Arthur drawled almost drunkenly. "Why're you crying?" he asked in concern.
"M' not," Merlin laughed, roughly wiping the tears from his face with the back of his hand. Arthur's thumb came up to his cheek then, softly wiping at the betrayal of his words. "Thank you," Arthur mumbled, seemingly ready to nod off into a restful sleep.
"What for?" Merlin asked.
"For kissing it better, of course."
Merlin exhaled shakily, bringing Arthur's hand up to his lips and pressing reverent kisses there. "I only use it for you, Arthur, you have to believe me. I was born with magic. I would never harm you or your kingdom. Please believe-"
"Shhhhh," Arthur said reassuringly, removing his hand from his grasp, not to draw it back but to hold his chin with the little strength he had left. His thumb grazed his cheek. Lovingly. Merlin's breath stocked when Arthur's thumb found his lower lip. "It's okay," Arthur muttered, repeating his earlier words back to him. "It's gonna be okay. Come 'ere."
Merlin had known that everything would change once Arthur knew of his magic. He had just never dared to hope that everything would change for the better. But it did. Slowly, but gradually.
In a year's time, magic would be reinstated in Camelot. An undertaking that took a lot of planning. And it all started right there. Arthur relaxed under Merlin's fingers tracing idle patterns onto the skin of his torso, following the golden line that had knit the wound back together. If only Ygraine could see them now. A son born of magic and one born with it. "She would have loved you," Arthur mumbled sleepily right before he drifted off to sleep. Like I love you, he added in his mind.
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