a lesson in manners
For @merlinmicrofic. Prompt: "Then go", Arthur/Merlin/Gwen, Established Relationship, Gen. Words: 500
“Well.” Merlin rises from his chair. “If there's nothing else.”
Guinevere turns to him – her disappointment clear in her eyes, even though she tries to keep it from her voice. “You’re leaving?”
“Sorry.” Merlin smiles apologetically. “I promised Gaius I would be back in time for supper.”
Which is fair enough. Merlin’s been dining with Arthur and Guinevere more often than not, lately. They have – perhaps selfishly – grown used to his presence.
“Hardly the first time you've kept him waiting,” Arthur observes. Just to be contrary.
“Precisely. He's starting to ask questions.”
“What sort of questions?” Guinevere asks.
Merlin looks at her with a pointed raise of his eyebrows. “Ones I'd rather not answer.” Guinevere’s mouth curves into a faint smile. She closes her eyes when Merlin leans down to kiss her temple.
“I'll see you tomorrow. Good night.” Merlin nods at Arthur before going to the door.
Guinevere looks at him with a hint of sadness in her eyes – which, as a general rule, Arthur finds unacceptable. Guinevere should never look sad. Not in his presence. Not if he can help it.
“Merlin?” Arthur calls. Merlin stops, his hand on the handle. “Is that the way to take leave of your king?”
Merlin looks puzzled. “I'm sorry. Did I forget to bow?” he asks, and he does so, with a jester-like flourish.
Arthur rolls his eyes. “Yes. Not that it matters. Come here.”
“Arthur…” Merlin protests, weakly, but he obeys his beckoning.
“Guinevere got a kiss. I was just wondering at the disparity of treatment,” Arthur explains – not because he cares, but just to keep Merlin there a little longer.
Merlin clicks his tongue. “She's nicer than you.”
Arthur just looks at him.
Merlin sighs, theatrically, and Guinevere giggles.
Good.
When Merlin bends down – no doubt to give Arthur a quick peck on the lips – Arthur grabs his ridiculous neckerchief and pulls. Merlin gasps, grasping one of Arthur’s arms as he tips over, and slamming his knee next to Arthur’s thigh to avoid smashing his face against the back of his chair.
“Arthur— ” The rest of his objection is rudely interrupted by Arthur’s mouth.
Arthur kisses Merlin until he’s breathless – maybe from the kiss, maybe from the cloth that’s pulled tight around his neck. Arthur doesn’t loosen his grasp. He knows Merlin likes it.
When Arthur breaks their kiss, Merlin blinks at him vacantly. He moves his lips as if to shape a word, but seems to have forgotten what he wanted to say.
Then, he remembers. “Gaius is waiting,” he mumbles – eyes fixed on Arthur's mouth.
Arthur lets go of Merlin’s neckerchief and pats his chest. “Then go,” he says, amiably.
Merlin gets to his feet – a bit shakily. His ears are red. He walks to the door again, turns as if to say something, then frowns and closes his mouth. Wordlessly, he leaves.
Guinevere starts laughing.
Good.
“That was mean,” she says.
Arthur takes her hand and kisses it. “Don’t worry. We’ll make it up to him.”
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