@merthurmicrofic prompt: rat
Word count: 645
The door banged open and Merlin woke with a start.
“I always knew you were incompetent, Merlin, but this is just ridiculous. What’s the point of having magic if you can’t even sort out something as simple as a rodent infestation? Although, I guess I shouldn’t be surprised, since they do have more brains than you.”
“I don’t see you having any luck with catching them, either,” Merlin mumbled, rubbing the sleep from his eyes and sitting up.
Merlin had, in fact, caught and killed the rats in a matter of seconds, with one simple glance, each night they had appeared. For six nights in a row. It seemed someone was having them on.
It was then, after he’d blinked away the last of the bleariness, that he noticed the pillow Arthur was clutching to his chest.
“Why’ve you got that?” he asked, with a note of foreboding in his voice.
“If you think I’m sleeping in there with the rats, you can think again,” Arthur said.
Arthur scoffed. “I don’t get frightened. It is critical for a king to have a decent night’s rest so that he is at his best for his people. Now, budge up, will you?”
Merlin rolled his eyes, but shuffled over all the same, moving his pillow so Arthur could plop his down.
It wasn’t like they had never shared a bedroll; camping overnight often called for it on the colder nights to keep all their fingers, toes, and other vulnerable bits functioning and intact. But this was Merlin’s bed. And there was hardly room enough for one man, let alone two, especially now that Merlin’s chest and arms had filled out to rival Arthur’s own.
He tried not to think about the way Arthur’s thigh pressed up alongside his, or the way his tunic rode down his chest, showing off the smattering of blond hair there. Merlin no longer knew what to do with his hands; his arms lay awkwardly, woodenly at his sides, all too aware that the slightest movement might brush their fingers together.
“There were no guest chambers available, I take it?” he joked.
As Arthur settled in beside him, Merlin stared up at the ceiling; he felt, in that moment, that he would likely have a better night’s sleep in a room full of rats.
“You must think you’re pretty funny.”
“I do, actually,” Morgana agreed. “But if you’re accusing me of something, you’re going to need to be more specific.”
Merlin raised an eyebrow. “The rats?”
Morgana affected a look of total innocence, which, if Merlin hadn’t known her so well, would have been entirely convincing. “Rats? What are you talking about, Merlin?”
“Please. A rat in his chambers one night is a coincidence, two nights and I thought maybe Elyan and Gwaine were having a laugh, but seven nights? That’s got sorcery written all over it, and I know it wasn’t me.”
Morgana smirked. “Well, it worked, didn’t it?”
“All it took was making Arthur’s chambers somewhat uninhabitable and off he ran to spend the night with you.” She grinned, which did nothing to dim the malevolence in her eyes, but rather accentuated it. “Do you deny it?”
“I—well—all we did was sleep!”
Morgana hummed. “That lie might have worked if you’d remembered your neck scarf,” she said, and turned away, smirk firmly in place.
Merlin’s mouth fell open, and he slapped a hand, rather too late, over the bruises Arthur had left there that morning.
“Gwen will be pleased,” Morgana called as she walked away. “The rats were her idea, you know.”
Shaking his head, Merlin watched her go, and as the heat slowly faded from his cheeks, he made a mental note to send both the meddling wretches some flowers.
