WARNING: FEATURES INCREDIBLY IMMATURE/MOOD-SWINGED ARTHUR AND WISE-GUY MERLIN

Also, please ignore my terrible attempt at humour… *cringe*

Shaking his head to clear his thoughts, Merlin entered Arthur's chambers and made his way noisily to the curtains, grinning to himself as Arthur scowled and chucked the nearest thing near him at Merlin-

Luckily, Merlin had removed all sharp, hard or dangerous objects from within a 10-metre radius of Arthur, and so Merlin was only hit by a pillow.

"Where's my breakfast, idiot?" Arthur scowled again. Unfortunately, Arthur wasn't a morning person like Merlin. (Merlin asks you not to judge Arthur when he is just waking up- normally he is very nice.)

Panic showed in Merlin's eyes for a second before he let out a sigh of relief. "You are having breakfast with you father, prat."

Arthur groaned from the bed. "How long?" He asked, his voice excepting defeat.

"Not for another hour."

And if we didn't know Arthur we could've sworn he jumped out of bed and did a happy dance while Merlin had turned away. But we do know Arthur, so we know Prince Arthur wouldn't do that.

"Merliiinn?" Arthur yelled like a child from the bed.

Merlin sighed, his eyebrows doing this weird thing as he looked at Arthur. "Yeah?"

"Can you magic me some biscuits?"

Merlin groaned. Not again. They'd had this conversation before. "NO, Arthur. You can't use magic for your own gain!" Merlin told him wisely.

"Well that stinks." Arthur pouted. (Remember this moment, because Arthur doesn't pout often, even when he's with Gwen.) "What's the point of magic if you can't use it?"

Merlin glared at him. "One day you will know."

"I wanna," Arthur smirked. "know now!"

"Well, you're too young."

"Still. Why?"

"…it's not in your destiny to know so early."

Arthur was wearing a very smug grin. "It's not in my destiny to know why you can't use magic to conjure biscuits?"

Merlin frowned. "…. You can't use magic to conjure biscuits… because… because…"

"Admit it." Arthur told him smugly. "You don't know!"

Merlin scowled. "One more word out of you, mister, and I'll make sure you never want biscuits again!"

Arthur frowned. "How?"

"In a way that involves your father's clock, Gwen glaring at you and me conjuring so many biscuits you forget the day of the week!"

Arthur fell back against the pillows. "Just asking…"

I actually wrote this aggges ago while writing another story (called Destiny's a Good Excuse, if anyone's interested) that went down quite well… review, anyone?