Merlin gripped the blankets around him.
He was cold. Really cold.
His whole body was shuddering even though he was buried under about eleven blankets. He was sweating like crazy, his dark hair pasted to his forehead.
Fever was a strange thing.
Merlin forced himself to open his eyes. He looked blearily around the room. The young warlock was in a place that was not so unfamiliar yet very unfamiliar. Merlin was in the prince's chambers. He was lying on Arthur's plush bed.
Well, this is quite a change, Merlin thought.
He allowed his eyes to drift closed.
After God knows how long, warmth spread through the servant's right hand.
Merlin's eyes fluttered open and turned his head to the right.
Pain, like someone was driving a sword into his skull, shot through Merlin's head. He grinded his teeth together. Damned headaches reappeared whenever he moved.
But this time, moving had been worth it. Arthur sat by Merlin's side on a three-legged stool, Merlin's cold, pale hand folded in the prince's warm, tanned ones.
Merlin tried for a smile but ended up wincing.
Note to self, don't try to smile at Arthur.
Self to note, shut up.
Merlin studied the prince, enjoying the warmth of Arthur, the heat crawling from his hand in Arthur's throughout his entire being.
Arthur was wearing a loose blue tunic, brown trousers, and worn brown boots. His blonde hair was rumpled and his blue eyes were shiny with – tears? No, no way the prince cared about his servant that much.
Not that Merlin cared about the pratty prince, either.
You are an extraordinarily terrible liar, even when you're lying to yourself, Merlin thought.
Arthur reached out a tan hand; the other firmly locked on Merlin's pale hand, and brushed Merlin's dark curls off of his forehead.
Maybe he does care about me… Merlin dared to think.
Arthur's hand stopped stroking the young warlock's hair and gingerly felt Merlin's forehead.
Arthur's face fell and his hand began stroking Merlin's damp hair again.
Merlin's eyelids grew heavy, so he let them close.
The young warlock thought he heard Arthur humming a song to him, which was quickly quieted by some 'shhing' from a corner of the room that Merlin couldn't see, that sent shock waves of pain through his delicate mind.
Merlin whimpered and gripped Arthur's hand. The humming had given him a headache, yes, but it made him feel safe.
Arthur picked up his humming again, softer this time. It was barely audible. A strange sense of warmth spread through the dark-haired warlock, not just from Arthur's warm hand.
After a few minutes, Merlin felt Arthur's hand cease its stroking and his hand begin to disentangle from Merlin's tight grip. Lips pressed against his burning forehead.
Merlin whimpered, a sound like a kicked puppy. Merlin heard scuffling and the soft thud that signaled that Arthur had taken his seat again. His had taken the warlock's again and Merlin relaxed.
Arthur's hand resumed its stroking of the dark locks, and Merlin allowed himself to float on the sea of gray, safe in the knowledge that Arthur was there.
A/N: Well? Should I continue, because I have more.