Unspoken

Genre: Humor/Romance

Pairing:Arthur x Merlin

Warnings:Short, no plot, slight OOC...er...yeah

FTOYWGAD:This took me a couple of months. And when I say a couple of months, I mean about five minutes of every day for a couple of months. Mostly when I'm procrastinating. Oh the joys of procrastination.

Disclaimer:I don't own Merlin.

"Merlin."

"Hm?"

"You just kissed me."

"Wha – what? What're you talking about, I did no such thing."

"Merlin, you just touched your lips to mine."

"I don't remember."

"It was three seconds ago."

"You're a liar, because three seconds ago, I'm pretty sure I was busy dressing you."

"And then you kissed me."

"I didn't kiss you."

"…"

"You had leftover cream on your lips. And I simply did you a favor and wiped it off."

"With your lips."

"Yes. You're welcome, sire."

"You know, there are these things called hands that are useful for such things."

"Lips were quicker and more efficient. And believe me when I say that my love for cream goes beyond that of human comprehension."

"Merlin, has anyone ever told you that you're an embarrassingly terrible liar?"

"No, sire, I think that pleasure is specially reserved for you."

.

.

.

"Arthur."

"What?"

"Your hand."

"…"

"It's attached to my nether regions."

"Hm…curious."

"Quite."

"…"

"…"

"Arthur?"

"Yes?"

"Are you going to remove it?"

"No, I rather like my hand there."

.

.

.

"Merlin."

"Yes, sire?"

"What are you doing?"

"Washing, sire."

"My hair?"

"A prince's hair must be impeccable and as your servant I shall see to it."

"Huh."

"…"

"Merlin."

"Yes?"

"Don't forget behind my ears."

"Wouldn't dream of it, sire."

.

.

.

"Arthur?"

"What is it, Merlin?"

"Your food's getting cold."

"Yes, Merlin, that's what happens when it's left out for too long."

"Don't get angry at me, I'm not the one who humiliated you in the tournament."

SPLASH!

"You know Arthur…"

"…"

"This habit of your throwing water in my face is getting rather worrisome."

.

.

.

"Merlin."

"…"

"Merlin!"

"…"

"Merlin!"

"Wha – What? Where am I?"

"You're in my chambers."

"Hm? Why, what am I doing here? What time is it?"

"Midnight. You probably fell asleep while you were cleaning – again. The hunt actually went well without you today – for a change."

"Oh."

"…"

"I guess I'll be leaving then – "

"Merlin."

"Yes, sire?"

"You – hmm. You can spend the night here if you want. Lord knows what trouble you could stir up at this hour."

"Oh. Thanks."

"..."

"…"

"…"

"Good night, Arthur."

"Good night, Merlin."

.

.

.

"Arthur, you don't have to –"

"Shut up, Merlin."

"No, really –"

"Merlin, we're stuck in a bloody cave and it's like Jack Frost's violent diarrhea out there. I'm cold; you're cold. I am not freezing to death because you're uncomfortable."

"…I never said I was uncomfortable."

"…"

"…"

"…"

"Arthur, your prick is hard again."

"Fuck!"

.

.

.

"Merlin!"

"Arthur? What is it?"

"Merlin, have I ever told you that you are, by far, the worst servant I have ever had?"

"Everyday, sire."

"Augh! What is this?"

"Um…your chambers."

"Yes, now care to explain to me why it looks as if a tycoon swept the place?"

"Er…it was…the rat."

"The rat?"

"The rat."

"…"

"Nasty little buggers they are…with their teeth. And whatnot…"

"So you mean to tell me, that my chambers have been turned upside down…because of a rat?"

"Yes."

"Merlin, are you lying?"

"…Yes."

.

.

.

"Rise and shine, Arthur!"

"Mmnggg…for the thousandth time, Merlin, please come up with something more creative."

"Now, that's not fair. Every time I do try to greet you another way, you always throw something or another at me."

"Because they all sound so stupid."

"Alright then, how 'bout this? 'Good morning, Prince Clotpole! or Prince Dollophead of Prat-alot –'"

THUNK!

.

.

.

"Merlin, I am still not going to apologize."

"Arthur, I'm bleeding from my head because you threw a vase at me."

"And you called me a dollophead, clotpole and a prat in the same sentence."

"I think it takes an incredible amount of skill to make that happen."

"You spent an hour thinking of that line, didn't you?"

"Best hour I ever spent."

"…Merlin."

"Hm?"

"…"

"…"

"Feel better."

"OW! Arthur, not on the forehead! Aw, now my head's covered in your royal lip-germs."

"Oh, shut up!"

.

.

.

"Arthur…"

"Merlin, please don't use that obnoxiously girly tone saying my name."

"It's not girly! I was…I'm just worried."

"Oh, it's okay. I'm just dandy, you know, going into what could be termed the final battle of this year-long war that would determine the fate of Camelot. Oh, did I mention that there was a chance that I might not come back."

"You know, you always manage to baffle me how you can act like arse at such dire times."

"You're going out there too, you know."

"…I know."

"…"

"…"

"Merlin."

"…"

Sigh. "Merlin, whether I come back, whether we come back or not…Merlin, I…"

.

.

.

"…love you."

The last two words were left unsaid because Merlin already knew and Arthur knew that Merlin knew and the entire ordeal was frustrating enough to drive both of them up the walls.

Because they were not a goddamned cliché. Because it was something that was understood and blatantly obvious. Because really, Merlin did not need Arthur to say it, nor did Arthur need Merlin to say it.

Not to mention, Arthur would rather scalp his own head that utter such embarrassing words.

.

.

.

"Merlin?"

"Yeah?"

"…"

"Knock it off Arthur, you're smile is starting to frighten me."

"Shut up."

"…Ow, Arthur, people can see."

"Let them."

"…Somehow, I always knew you were an exhibitionist."

"Shut up."

"…"

"…"

"…Arthur?"

"Yeah?"

"Hmm…I'm happy."

"As am I."

FTOYWGAD: And that's the end. Good? No. Fun writing it? Absolutely. Hope you guys enjoyed this (and truly, if you got this far, I commend you). It was a short, cute … thing.

Reviews would be appreciated. :D

~Silver