Well, I was in dire need for some good, old Merlin/Arthur bromance. And I was in dire need to write something Merlin. This idea came to me only earlier this morning - at 1:00 AM. XD And so, I spent most of today just writing this up. Gah. Merlin and Arthur. These two. sdk;fjaskdfjfd

Enjoy!

I. Cold

Merlin was very, very cold. He couldn't feel his toes or his fingers and the parts of his body that he could feel hurt because of his constant shaking. He tried hard not to shake, but it was impossible. Merlin's body seemed intent on making him feel as uncomfortable as possible and he couldn't even conjure up a spell to warm himself because Arthur Pendragon was right there.

Speaking of Arthur, Merlin was mentally cursing him at the moment – it was his idea to go out on a hunting trip in the middle of winter, when the streams were freezing up and the bears were hibernating in their cozy caves. (Merlin wished he was one of those bears.)

Then again, cursing as Merlin may, he was grateful that Arthur was at least a bit warmer than he was. Arthur was sleeping only a few feet away from Merlin, wrapped up in the Camelot-red cloak and covered in chainmail. Merlin didn't like the idea of taking care of a sick Arthur, nor did he like the idea of finding Arthur frozen to death.

So, Merlin supposed that at least something good was going to come out of this.

There was a fire going between the two men, though it was weak and often sputtered every time a gust of wind blew by. And frankly, Merlin and Arthur knew that it would go out sooner or later and none of them would be awake to properly re-light the flames.

Merlin curled his legs into a somewhat fetal position. He tucked his arms around his torso and closed his eyes, desperately trying to get some sleep. He figured that the comfort of rest would temporarily distract him from how cold he was.

However, as hard as Merlin tried, the sharp jabs of winter's fingers just wouldn't leave him alone. He bit down on his chapped lips and squeezed his eyes tighter together, willing himself to ignore it all. A minute later, Merlin was forced to let go of his lip, for it, too, was numbing with pain.

Suddenly, Merlin felt a warm arm wrap around his shoulders and his body was slowly jerked forward. He opened his eyes in surprise – only to look into the wide, clear, blue irises of Arthur's eyes. Merlin couldn't even bring himself to speak from the cold. Instead, he raised a questioning eyebrow.

Arthur hesitated and then brought Merlin closer to himself, his arm still wrapped around the younger man's shoulders. "You look pathetic," he muttered. "And you'll turn into an icicle if you just sit there by yourself, so…"

Merlin's cheeks instantly warmed as Arthur pulled him into his shoulder. Well, a part of his not-yet-frozen brain managed to think, this is unexpected. He would have said this out loud, though, again, his voice was lost somewhere in the still-shaking parts of his body.

"Here," Arthur mumbled, awkwardly positioning Merlin's head on the blonde's other arm. Arthur fanned out his cloak over Merlin's body and though it didn't exactly warm him up all the way, it was much more comfortable than his previous position.

"Gods, Merlin, your hands are like ice." Arthur said, wide-eyed as he started to rub Merlin's pale hands together. "Why didn't you say anything before?"

Merlin gave a mere, shuddery shrug.

Arthur rolled his eyes and once he had finished his little practice with Merlin's hands, he went back to focusing on where Merlin's head should be resting. Again, these actions only sent another warm wave of embarrassment and confusion in the younger man.

Arthur re-settled his own head so that he would be staring into Merlin's eyes. When Merlin continued to gawk at him, he exhaled a small, tired breath. "You're cold." He murmured. "That's all there is to it, Merlin. So, stop acting like a love-struck girl and just sleep."

After a beat of silence, Arthur added in a quieter, softer voice, "You need it."

With those words said, the blonde's eyes fluttered to a close, obviously trying to dismiss any further attempts at conversation. Merlin watched Arthur for a few more moments and slowly, the corners of Merlin's lips quirked into a small, incredulous smile.

Then, the warlock adjusted his head on Arthur's arm and closing his eyes, fell asleep.

xXx

II. Injured

Merlin was only aware of a few things when he was being shoved through the cell door of the dungeon – first of all, his body felt as if it had been trampled over by a stampeded of horses. Secondly, Arthur was screaming his name when he fell to his knees. Third of all, Merlin was fairly sure that it had been Morgana who shoved him through the cell door. Lastly, Merlin was beginning to think that the straw on the floor of the cell looked like strands of blond hair.

A buzz of voices spun around Merlin's head, tangling him into a web of numbness and bewilderment. He caught a few words like, "torture" and "pain" and "useless", but Merlin couldn't be bothered to make much sense of it. Oh, wait, he could – Merlin had been tortured. That was it…something about…finding out about Camelot's secret passages? Merlin didn't think he told anything, though – Morgana was sure to leave a mark on his skin, after all…

But now, Merlin didn't want to think anymore. And the voices were beginning to get louder.

He opened his mouth to say something – probably to tell the voices to shut up and leave him be, but he couldn't find the strength to voice his thoughts. Merlin's mouth clicked shut and he stared at the ground, dazed, until Arthur's face suddenly came to view.

"Merlin?" Arthur whispered throatily, searching the younger man's face. Merlin stared blankly back at his king. He was in so much pain and he was tired and he just wanted to sleep…

Without warning, Merlin was being lifted off his feet and cradled in a pair of strong arms. A pair of familiar arms. Arthur's arms, Merlin's hazy, confused brain thought. What was he doing in Arthur's arms?

Merlin felt himself being lowered back down, though he never touched the floor. He blinked his eyes once, twice, three times, and then looked up. Arthur was staring down at him, eyes wide and hands never loosening their grip on Merlin's body. It was in that moment when Merlin realized that he was sitting in Arthur's lap.

The strangest thing about it all was that Merlin didn't really care. He was too tired to put up a fight or an argument or a protest. He'd very much rather stay right here, where he didn't have to move around. Each time he did move, another severe, harsh, invisible fist would connect to his body. No, Merlin was just fine where he was.

"Hello," Merlin finally managed to croak. "Hello, Arthur."

A weak smile graced Arthur's lips and he replied in an odd, light tone, "Hello, Merlin."

Merlin felt something warm dribble down his chin. He scraped the substance off, only to find that it was red and watery. Was it blood? Was it his blood? Was it coming down from his lips? Why was it?

"Feel funny." Merlin finally mumbled, letting his hand drop limply to his stomach. "Like…wanna scream but I…can't." Merlin looked back down at himself and frowned at his arms – they were scattered with bruises and gashes. A sharp, unyielding pain poked and prodded at Merlin's body, reminding him how truly awful the situation was.

"Ow. Hurts." He said faintly. Frankly, that was all he could get out of this.

Arthur gave Merlin a single nod, bringing the younger man closer to his chest. "I know, Merlin," he said quietly. "It must hurt…quite a lot." An unfamiliar, almost wounded expression filled Arthur's face. The king blinked rapidly and cleared his throat, looking back down at Merlin. "So, I'm asking you to fall asleep. Do you think you can do that?"

Merlin smiled – and felt some more blood slide down his chin, though he didn't bother wiping it away. He managed a nod and murmured, "Sleep sounds…good." Merlin paused and went on, "Sleep sounds…amazing."

Arthur let out a soft, somewhat strained laugh and shook his head. "That's great, Merlin." He said quietly. "So, what do you say? Sleep?"

A small sigh escaped Merlin's lips and he closed his eyes, murmuring a single word in agreement – "Sleep."

Another chuckle came out of Arthur and Merlin felt himself being pulled closer – almost as though the king was hugging him. And Merlin didn't mind it one bit. He placed his head over Arthur's shoulders and tucked his hands in front of his stomach.

Feeling safe, Merlin succumbed to the dreamless world of slumber.

xXx

III. Sick

Arthur Pendragon had been sick before. Merlin knew that as well as any other person in Camelot. Everyone can get sick and everyone can be cranky and disagreeable during that particular time. (Merlin had had his fair share of putting up with Arthur when he was sick – those days all ended with Merlin ducking blunt objects.)

But today, Arthur was different. He didn't complain, he didn't whine – he didn't say a single thing except that he wasn't feeling well. And if he was actually admitting something like this, then Merlin knew that Arthur must have truly been feeling bad.

So now, Arthur was trembling in his bed, pale-faced and bright-eyed. Merlin was sitting across from Arthur, doing his best to wipe away the beads of sweat from his forehead with a wetted rag. "Get some sleep, Arthur," he said quietly. "You look awful."

Arthur's head rocked weakly from side to side. "Can't," he rasped pathetically. Merlin chewed anxiously on the insides of his cheek before replying, "At least close your eyes. It can help your relax, believe it or not."

Arthur obliged, his eyes fluttering to a close. Trying to wipe the blonde's face again, Merlin leaned in a bit closer. With his other hand, he started to tuck the blankets tighter around Arthur. However, just as he began pulling away, Arthur's hand shot out from underneath and took a hold of the warlock's arm.

Merlin looked down, eyes wide. "Arthur?" He whispered uncertainly. "Do you want something?"

As a response, Arthur shuffled a bit to his side, his hand still latched onto the younger man's arm. He opened his eyes and stared back at Merlin, his intentions (somewhat) clear. Merlin blinked in confusion and said slowly, "I think I know what you're saying, but…I don't –" He shook his head, feeling more and more awkward by the second. "Do you want me to…sleep with you? Is that it?"

Arthur gave Merlin a small eye-roll and then a weak nod in response.

"Are you…sure that's a good idea? Someone might come in and get the wrong idea…" Merlin mumbled, embarrassed, but Arthur didn't let go of his manservant. Staring intently at Merlin, Arthur kicked himself back a bit more to leave more space.

Merlin sighed and shook his head. Well, I am supposed to fulfill his needs…He thought to himself and started to kick off his shoes. Once placing them neatly next to the bed, Merlin slid beside Arthur underneath the covers and stared up at the ceiling.

There were a few minutes of silence. Unnerved, Merlin turned on his side to look at Arthur, mouth open and ready to speak, though the few words that he was thinking of uttering drowned in his throat. Arthur's eyes were closed, his head tilted towards Merlin, all signs of pain and discomfort wiped from his face. His chest rising and falling in deep, even breaths. Merlin watched with amusement and surprise – Arthur had fallen asleep.

The warlock continued watching. He felt a strange surge of affection for the blonde – the fact that Arthur had not fallen asleep until Merlin was in bed with him warmed his heart considerably. Merlin smiled to himself and giving Arthur's hand a small squeeze, fell asleep as well.

xXx

IV. Drunk

Being drunk wasn't always a pleasant feeling for Merlin, even if he felt alright with drinking for the most part – for one, whenever he woke up, his head would hurt like the pits of hell, and most of the time, he just acted silly. Singing (soprano, to Merlin's horror), dancing odd jigs, clapping at nothing…the list could go on and on. In other words, Merlin acted like a complete clown when he had too much to drink.

But Arthur was a different case. Merlin knew that alcohol made the king sleepy, but the thing is, he didn't bother pulling the wine bottle away today. Besides, Merlin and Arthur were feeling somewhat celebratory today, even though there wasn't much to celebrate about.

Perhaps this was Merlin and Arthur having their last joys and laughs.

And to be honest, Merlin didn't mind it all – the wine was good and he didn't have too much of it, either. (He still had to tend to Arthur in the morning, even if he was suffering from the after-effects of drinking. Naturally, he needed to be careful.)

It didn't take Arthur too long to get tired after drinking, either. His face was flushed and an odd, somewhat dazed look had glazed itself over his eyes. It was then when Merlin gently tugged the wine bottle away and suggested that the king should sleep.

Arthur, still in his state, gave a simple nod and started to make his way to bed. He tripped over his feet immediately, causing Merlin to snort at the hilarity of this small thing. Arthur, however, didn't appear to care. He slowly got back up, only to fall again.

Still laughing under his breath, Merlin gently pulled the king up and led him into his bed.

Arthur mumbled a few incoherent words under his breath and in the next moment, without notice, he dragged Merlin into the bed. Merlin let out a feeble, surprised cry of surprise and immediately started struggling, wondering if this was all perhaps a joke. "Ar'tur!" He grunted, struggling against the king's grip. "Hey – let me – mmph!"

Merlin groaned inwardly as Arthur wrapped his arms around his torso, pulling him close as if he was a little doll or a toy. The young man puffed out a breath and, shaking his head, tried to slide out of Arthur's grip. However, even in sleep, the prat was strong.

"This isn't my fault and I didn't start this." Merlin muttered aloud to no one in particular as he awkwardly crossed his arms. If Arthur was to wake in the morning to see Merlin by his side, then he might as well get the impression that Merlin was against his will in this situation.

Emitting another long, annoyed sigh, Merlin closed his eyes and surrendered to sleep.

xXx

Later that night, Guinevere came to Arthur's chambers – and stopped short to see that Merlin was in her husband's arms. It was an oddly sweet sight to see, actually. Merlin's arms were crossed, though he looked relaxed. Arthur looked content and calmer than he had in some time.

Guinevere beamed at the two men, happy to see them at peace for once. She slowly retreated out of the room, leaving them be.

A/N - Not quite sure when this would take place...around season five, probably. XD

As always, reviews are amazing! Constructive criticism is allowed, but flames are not!