Modern AU | humour| camping AU | pure bickering chaos
— Aaaaarthur! Arthur, wake up!
— Mm.
— Arthur!
— What’s happened?
— Wake up already! And move over!
— Move where? There’s barely any room. Hell, it’s not even dawn yet!
— I can’t sleep there. Something’s moving on my sleeping bag. I woke up because something crawled on me.
— What? Where’s the flashlight? Right—got it.
— Look, it’s already gotten inside! If it’s a bloody snake, I’ll kill you!
— Don’t panic. I can’t see anything. And there aren’t any snakes here—I was joking. You’re too jumpy. You imagined it.
— I did not! I saw it.
— Well, I don’t see anything. Go back to sleep before you wake the whole camp. We’ve got to hike to the waterfall tomorrow. It’s probably just a lizard. It’s more scared of you than you are of it.
— Oh God, it’s moving again!
— Lift the edge, I’ll shine the light.
— You lift it. I don’t want that thing jumping on me.
— Emrys, it’s just a frog… A tiny frog. You woke me up over a bloody frog.
— Disgusting! Is it slimy?
— Pick it up and find out!
— I’m not touching it! What if it carries something?
— Just tip it out of the bag—out of the tent. Honestly, what’s the problem?
— It’s dark, it’s cold, and it’s drizzling. It’s horrible.
— Seriously? Whose brilliant idea was it to bring you along? Unzip it and hold it open. I’ll get it out.
— Thanks.
— You’re welcome. There. Can we sleep now?
— Arthur? Can I borrow your jacket?
— Why?
— Mine’s too short, it doesn’t cover me properly. I’ll freeze.
— Why do you need my jacket? Just zip the bag up and sleep.
— I’m not sleeping in a bag that a disgusting frog climbed into. What if it’s sick?
— You’re the one who’s sick. Here—cover up and shut up. Why did you even come on this hike if you’re this squeamish and skittish?
…(croaking outside; Merlin wriggles on his sleeping bag)
— Arthur?
— …(an irritated huff)
— Arthur, are you asleep?
— Trying to be. You should try it too.
— I can’t.
— What is it this time?
— The frog is croaking.
— And?
— I can’t fall asleep.
— And you decided I shouldn’t either? Wrap yourself up tighter, count sheep, and sleep.
— Your jacket’s thinner than mine. I’m cold. And the frog is annoying.
— Put your hat on.
— I don’t have one.
— You did earlier.
— Must’ve lost it somewhere.
— Are you planning on keeping me awake all night?
— …
— There’s a knife in the front pocket of my rucksack. Get it out and hand it to me.
— Arthur, why do you need a knife? I’m sure you can just scare the frog off, it’ll hop away. Croaking isn’t a crime.
— I’m not going to kill the frog, you idiot.
— Then why are you cutting open your sleeping bag?
— We’ve got two options: you go and sleep outside, or we share. Your sleeping bag is too narrow for me—I won’t fit. But if we use mine, we can lie down together and tuck the edges in, one on each side. Come on, lie down next to me—what are you staring at? Give me your jacket, I’ll put it between us. There. Now we’ll shove our feet into your bag, and use my jacket over the top. That’s it. Warm. Now sleep. I’m turning the flashlight off.
— Okay.
— Merlin!
— What?
— Stop staring at me in the dark. Turn over and don’t breathe in my face.
— I thought that would make it less awkward… Do you want to be the big spoon?
— We are not spooning, you idiot! Just turn over!
— Why not just say that, then? Why call me names?
— Why go on a bloody hike if you’re scared of frogs and can’t sleep in a tent?
— I’ve never been hiking before, you arse—how was I supposed to know I wouldn’t like it?
— Next time my sis offers you something, just say “no”.
— If I’d refused, you still wouldn’t have slept. Sophia would’ve crawled into your tent, wouldn’t she.
— Probably, and I’d have spent the night with a pretty girl, instead of sharing my sleeping bag and jacket with a scrawny little wretch who’s afraid of harmless amphibians.
— …
— And Merlin—if you tell anyone about how we slept tonight, I’ll kill you. Is that clear?
— Crystal.
And of course Merlin didn’t tell anyone.
Not that he’d been the one to smuggle the frog into their tent in the first place. Not that Arthur had fallen asleep with his nose buried in the back of someone else’s neck— and that arrogant prat had turned out to be the big spoon in the end.
