"Merlin, watch your feet!" Arthur scolded, glancing down at the boy in his arms, tongue poking through his lips as he attempted to focus enough to remember the few steps that he had learned. "Remember. Forward, back, left, right, front. Again. Forward, back, left-,"
"Forward...back...left..." Merlin repeated in a monotone, hands gripping Arthur's shirt in a vice as he attempted to move correctly. He spun gently against Arthur, dipping and coming up again and then rolling his eyes, breaking out in a small laugh. "This is utterly hopeless."
"It's only hopeless because you're an idiot," Arthur retorted, attempting to hold back his own snort of laughter. "Merlin, I have to get this right. The ball is tomorrow night and if I don't have my dancing perfect, I'm going to be the laughing-stock of Camelot."
"You seem fine," Merlin shrugged. "I don't see the problem; it's not like I'm going to be dancing with you." They continued to dance, twirling around slowly to invisible music. "I'm just going to be there serving you wine."
"And you best make sure you don't let my goblet go dry," Arthur retorted, allowing the laugh to come. "It's going to be awful."
Merlin gently punched his arm, smiling softly. "You get to dance with basically every eligible Princess from every allied realm of Camelot. Oh, the /horror/."
"Horror indeed." Arthur spun Merlin around, hands skittering across Merlin's hips and making the boy's breath come fast. "Because every eligible Princess sees me as a Prince, not a human being. The whole night it'll be protocol and courting rules and dance cards and..." His breath trailed off, exasperated. "I don't want to deal with it."
Merlin's feet tripped over themselves and he landed against Arthur's chest. Arthur's hands moved down his back to catch and hold him close, not allowing Merlin to hit the floor. "I don't know anyone other than me that doesn't treat you like a Prince," Merlin said with a flicker of a grin on his face.
"Exactly," was Arthur's only reply, flat.
Merlin frowned, ignoring his footwork for a moment to glance up into Arthur's eyes. "I thought you hated when I was so informal with you."
"I do. Don't let anything I say change your mind on that," his voice came quickly before his mind could consider them. Protective instinct. He spun Merlin around, breaking the spell that had settled over the room.
Merlin chuckled and spun, trying not to topple over sideways. "I won't, my lord." The words were overly formal and Arthur knew it, laughing himself and nudging Merlin in the side and pausing the dance.
Hands still folded in Merlin's, Arthur glanced at him. "Just... don't stop being you, Merlin. If for whatever reason you dissolved into a mindless servant with all their 'yes, sir' and 'no, sir', I might scream."
Merlin tripped (again) and then straightened, raising an eyebrow. "Are you telling me that you like my informality?"
Arthur cuffed him over the head and the hit sent the servant staggering into Arthur's arms. The King bent down, lips hovering over the shell of Merlin's ear. "Don't tell anyone," he whispered, breath ghosting, "but you're one of the only ones I know that'll actually tell me what I need to know. It's... refreshing."
Merlin's hands clutched at Arthur's shirt and somehow they were dancing again. "I wouldn't sweeten something for you just because you're King," he said softly. "You need to know when you're screwing something up."
Arthur pulled Merlin close. "Just help me. Tonight. When I'm turned into Prince Arthur and not just... Arthur. Be ready with a quip or something just completely... Merlin. Or I'm afraid I'll lose it."
"I'll be there, /sire/." His eyes were dancing with rogue-ish joy.
Arthur tripped him on purpose. The spell was broken. They were back to Master and Servant. But in that one moment, they were friends.
