A Spell
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Merlin wasn't supposed to risk his life for Arthur—that was Arthur's job. Arthur was supposed to put himself in harm's way for Merlin, Arthur was supposed to be the one injured, unconscious, and Merlin was supposed to be the one taking care of him, worried and scared for his life.
But, instead, it was Arthur refusing to leave Merlin's side until he awoke this time, caring for him, tending to his wounds with his limited knowledge and barking orders at the knights to do this or that or get him this or that, his concern not masked or veiled in the least.
And when Merlin finally awoke, weak and wondering, he sat up slowly, all the knights coming to surround them as Arthur forbade him from ever pulling such a stunt ever again.
Merlin grinned against the pain and said something smart in return, and before Arthur could stop himself, he was kissing Merlin—hard and soft and wanting and perfect—leaving him fulfilled when Merlin kissed him back, and amused when the knights all cleared their throats, trying to break a spell that Arthur never wanted lifted.
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