"Merlin."
It was a sharp intrusion into the soft warmth of his dreams. The blunt, merciless call of reality dropped like a heavy weight onto his consciousness. At least the voice calling him out of his sleep was a familiar one, a voice he appreciated much more when its tone wasn't impatient, angry, demanding. In fact, Arthur's voice was soft now, deep, almost seductive. It wasn't that he didn't know or remember why that was, but he was not awake enough to get there, to react and contemplate the previous night. One second. One second, and he'd be awake.
He knew he had to answer. There was no helping that. Mobilising his voice took an extreme amount of effort. He knew that once the words were there, he would have lost any chance he'd had to slip back to sleep.
"Uuh," he uttered. There it was. He'd lost, no helping it now. Merlin, awake.
"Yes, m'lord?"
He added the title on of habit, automatically and without awe or reverence - just a factual statement. After all, Arthur was… Oh, for the love of God.
It wasn't panic as such, but something at the back of his heart seemed to clamp together and shiver. This was a highly precarious situation. He'd opened his eyes as he spoke, and that didn't really help matters. The light was too bright, it confused him, and Arthur's face was in the middle of it, part of it almost, as if he were an angel or a saint. Merlin stared at him dumbly. He was definitely not ready for that sight so soon after waking. The angel smirked. Merlin's heart wavered somewhere between annoyance and adoration. He'd been caught off guard, it really wasn't fair.
"You didn't wake me up this morning," the shining prince teasingly accused.
Merlin's mouth opened even wider, then closed again. He spent a moment just trying go compose himself before he breathlessly answered, "No. Eh, my apologies."
With that, his lips, too, twisted into a smile. He hadn't woken Arthur up. That would be because he had, until mere seconds ago, been asleep in Arthur's bed, right next to him.
Arthur let out a snort of laughter and leaned close to him. Merlin could feel his breath on his face, his skin on his skin. His heart made a range of odd decisions about which rhythm to beat in.
"Well, you can make up for it," Arthur said, his voice low, but reverberating, it seemed, through every cell of Merlin's body. He could not let himself get carried away by its charm, however, because in the small pause Arthur's face lit with a vicious grin, and he pushed his helpless servant out of his bed, "by fetching me some breakfast."
Merlin was thankful his drowsiness was all but gone, and that he had been able to anticipate the attack. He broke the fall with his hands and made sure he didn't suffer any injuries. Still, the floor was hard and chilly, as was the air around him. He scrambled frantically to his feet, aware of a window ajar, letting a cold gust of wind sweep his exposed skin. Had he been alone in his own room, he would have closed the window by magic without a second thought, but he was all too aware of Arthur's eyes on him. As he clumsily got dressed in a hurry, he could hear Arthur chuckle slightly in the background, clearly enjoying himself. This brought a flush to Merlin's cheeks, the only warmth offered him at the moment. He couldn't help smiling, though, his lips involuntarily twitching into a sheepish grin.
He tried to avoid looking back at the bed, he tried to avoid thinking about last night, and he tried to avoid letting his face be an open book for every kitchen maid to read as he scurried off to follow his orders.