bitchprince | Room 325, Sunday Afternoon

Entry tags:

brynmor,
room 325

Room 325, Sunday Afternoon

Bored. Bored bored bored. A morning spent in the salle had not alleviated Arthur's enormous helping of boredom. He needed to distract himself. With no weapons allowed in the dorms, it had been a bit difficult (if not impossible, but he'd put it aside after a while) to work on Merlin's not-really-a-Christmas-present-anymore, so that was out, too.

He had already put Francine's sweater away as far as he could (it wasn't that he didn't appreciate the gesture. It was just that it wasn't... well, you know. He was trying to be nice, and it was decent craftsmanship, but it kept reminding him of Merlin's absurd obsession with items of clothing his mother had made), poked around the room, tried the Teevee (still not pleasant, especially without the distraction of someone in the room) and gone through the first chapter of Salammbo.

Nothing.

Which was why, by the time the middle of the afternoon rolled around, there was a dog sitting on Arthur's floor.

"Stay. Just-- no. Stay."

[[ open post, half-open door ]]

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"They're biscuits, and they were left in my care," Arthur retorted, flopping onto the bed next to him, "What else would you call them?"

Merlin just nodded, patting him on the chest. "Nevermind then."

Arthur squinted up at him. "You're mocking me," he surmised. "Must be all of that porn."

"You liked it!"

Mainly because he hadn't been paying any attention to the porn. "Please. It was on the teevee."

He cut a good chunk off his helping of swan and bit into it. Giving it a moment.

Tasted like Christmas back home all right.

"You--" Flail about, Merlin! That was sure to form words! "Oh, sod off."

"Besides, it doesn't detract from the fact that you were trying to mock me." Flail, Merlin, flail!

Or call him an ass. Both were deserved. "And poorly."

"Ass." Oh snap!

"I see your insults are getting more resourceful." And back to eating. And looking slightly embarrassingly blissful about it.

Listen, it'd been a long year.

Merlin rolled his eyes and stole a bit of meat from Arthur. "I wouldn't mind doing that again."

"What?" Arthur asked, glancing at him. "Insulting me? You do need the practice."

"Insulting you is far easier than you think," Merlin countered. "I meant---the other things."

You know.

Merlin's ears were all red now, thanks a bunch.

"You're not very good at it."

Beat.

"The insulting, that is." Leave Merlin to take his conclusions about the other things from that.

"...okay." Merlin was just confused now. Because it was insulting and yet...

Backhanded compliments: an Arthur Pendragon trademark since 555. "Are you blushing?" he said, a bit gleefully, but set down his plate. "I think we can manage a repeat performance of 'other things'."

Just as long as he didn't have to talk about certain bits of it out loud.

"I'm not blushing!" Other than the way he totally was.

"It's all right, Merlin," Arthur said, waving a piece of swan at him, "That colour red is very fetching."

... It actually sort of was, in that 'hey, I put that there' kind of way, but hush.

"Oh, shut up. Not everyone is so used to this."

The smile faded a little bit.

But only to one that was a little less obnoxious.

"I know, Merlin."

"Maybe later then?" Once he finished nursing a bruised ego.

"Finish the swan, take the dog back to the stables..." he mused.

"Maybe?"

"And then we'll see about things."

He brushed good-naturedly at Merlin's hair. He wasn't... at all hoping they'd get back to the... Yeah.

"Uh... yeah." This had been far less confusing with Francine. "If you want to."

The thought of quipping did pass Arthur's mind, to be honest, but.

"I do."

He took a good bite of his swan. Maybe they'd just have to keep a good deal for leftovers.

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