"Prat."

"You know Merlin, over the many years I've known you it still amazes me that all your insults resemble those of a four-year old. One would think you'd come up with something better after so long."

Merlin huffed and crossed his arms as Arthur smirked at him. "See if I ever let you near my arse again." And just like that, the smirk was gone. Merlin spared a moment to bask in the satisfaction of knocking Arthur down a peg, but then was distracted from his internal gloating by the seriously pathetic expression that had taken over the Prince's face.

"What! You wouldn't!"

"Yeah? Try me." It should have been impossible—really it should have— and Merlin had no idea how he did it, but somehow Arthur managed to both glare and pout at the same time. It should have looked hilarious, but really it was just quite sad.

But Merlin wouldn't fall for it. Nope, he was gonna stay strong. He wouldn't let it affect him. No matter how much that bottom lip looked truly nibble-able, kind of like it did last night when they were – no! He would resist Arthur! He would. Shit. Who was he kidding.

"Argh, why must you do that?"

"What? Do what?" How did he have no idea, really?

"That! That thing! With the lip! Stop it!" Merlin pointed at said offensive—though not really, because honestly? Probably the most attractive lip he'd ever seen—lip. Of course this outburst only served to make the pout deepen, thus pushing said attractive lip out further.

"I don't know what you're talking about Merlin. What's wrong with my lip? I thought you loved my lip. You especially love my lip when it's on your—"

Merlin's eyes widened and he quickly slapped a hand over Arthur's mouth—steadfastly ignoring the feel of it against his palm of course—to cut off his words. "Shut it! We agreed we wouldn't talk about that!"

Arthur gave him a baleful look and tugged Merlin's hand away from his face. "Really Merlin. You're the one who mentioned you're arse and my lip in the first place. It's your own fault if we start talking about it."

Merlin glared right back. "Prat."

"Idiot."

"Clotpole."

"Halfwit."

"That's the same thing as idiot, idiot."

"It is not!"

"I think you'll find that it is."

"…"

Merlin smiled smugly, thinking that for once he had won this battle of banter between them. Then he found himself on his back in Arthur's bed with his arms trapped above his head and going the direction of being tied to the bedposts and – oh. Oh!

Ah well, it didn't really count as losing when he got the reward anyway now did it?