Disclaimer: Again, I am not the BBC and by default do not own Merlin.

Your Prat, My Prat

Depraved work of Valeria H

Trails of water slowly obscuring his vision, Merlin contemplated his means of escape. The view of Camelot through the torrential downpour was one he'd love to examine at length, preferably outside being soaked to the skin with as much distance between him and his soon to be temperamental master.

He was running out of time. Arthur would soon be returning from a meeting with his father and he would not be in the mood to see Merlin. At least not the kind of mood that Merlin would welcome. This one would involve endless lists of chores to be done in an impossibly short time frame but that was a standard Arthur response to seeing his servant idle. No, there was something special about this altercation that he shuddered to remember. With this Arthur, there would be shouting.

Grasping the window's handle he had been observing the world through, Merlin turned to the only method of escape that was still possible. Leaping out of the window was not his first choice but he rather thought death was swift and painless this way in comparison to the suffering that awaited him if he stood here delaying much longer. He'd lived a long life, well long for a warlock that practiced magic on a regular basis near Uther Pendragon. The handle seizing up after only a slight twist was not a good sign but Merlin was used to those by now. After all, if a daring leap out of Arthur's room was his only chance then that was hardly a good sign in itself. Time to face facts that he'd have to deal with Arthur and pray that the prat didn't try to open the window and add that to the list.

He could hear footsteps now, the irritable rap across cold flagstones the staccato beat of his demise. At least he had fair warning that this would be the disposition he had feared. So escape was no longer an option but hiding was still an available alternative. Merlin scanned the room quickly for conceivable concealment. Under the bed? Too childish. Under the table? Too obvious. In the closet? Highly unoriginal but the best chance he had of avoiding the path of Camelot's petulant prince. Diving amongst the clothes, leathers and furs, Merlin surrendered himself to the protection of Arthur's wardrobe. If the prat was incapable of dressing himself half of the time then what were the chances of his choosing today to do the task.

'MERLIN!' As Arthur strode into his chambers he confirmed the earlier suspicion that, yes, there was shouting. At this moment there wasn't a servant around that's devotion would be powerful enough to overcome the base survival instinct that call inspired. Normally it would fall on Merlin to deal with the raging beast but today he had chosen to follow evolutionary principles instead of blind devotion.

'Teh, useless.' The prince began to loosen his collar and...no, definitely not. Normally he would be praising such action as a miracle, but today Arthur was not permitted to approach the closet with intent to change. The formal jacket seemed to be defying his wishes as it sprawled on the floor and its owner continued to advance on his hiding spot.

Oh God, why was his luck so terrible? Did destiny hate him or did it just find infinite amusement in his suffering? First it landed him with the responsibility of protecting Arthur and now it threw him towards being impaled on Arthur's sword. He should have chosen the bed. Maturity aside, there wasn't much call for the Crown Prince to lie on the floor and look under his bed. No, that was why he had servants.

As Arthur began to browse, Merlin racked his brain for something, anything, to get him out of this. He could try passing out an appropriate jacket for his liege to wear but even he'd find it suspicious as his clothes had never moved for him in the past so why would they start now. At least this way if he was discovered there would be questions and a chance for explanation before the blade was pointed towards his vitals.

Calloused fingers continued to explore fabrics, most of which he'd probably never handled himself. At what seemed random he pulled a sleave towards him to examine. The green one? What was Arthur thinking?! Green clashing with red would leave him looking ridiculously festive. Something black, or preferably a dark brown would be a much better selection considering his standard apparel. Just five more fabrics to the right and...what was he thinking?! Here he was, trapped in the closet, scant seconds from possible death and he wanted to dole out fashion advice. Perhaps this was why royalty needed someone to dress them else Camelot's prince learn the hard way what he shouldn't wear over his red shirt.

Maybe he already had as he permitted the choice to swing back to its original position with a sound of displeasure. Hands once more quested for appropriate attire, reaching deeper into the wardrobe in their eagerness. The hands were headed in his direction and it seemed inevitable that they would eventually discover him but Merlin pleaded with destiny that this not occur. Please, no closer. One more rummage was all it would take and he'd be found. The hands retreated and then stopped right in front of him. There was a tug at his neck before they vanished once more and he reached up to find the source of whatever had vanished with them. That was odd, he shouldn't be feeling flesh there because his...ah, there went his neckerchief. Recognition would be forthcoming shortly.

'Merlin, what are you doing in my closet?'

Taking a deep breath he walked away from the warm embrace of too many clothes and into the cold reality of a destined monarch's displeasure. Caught in such a ridiculous hiding place. He'd never hear the end of this but it was better to face it now so Merlin looked up to see what his immediate future held. Well, assumed displeasure but he didn't look mad, just curious. Probably wondered what mental affliction his servant had that led him to hide in other people's closets. He could only be thankful he hadn't been found under the bed.

Arthur crossed his arms over his chest, waiting for an explanation. Something had to be said and quickly as patience was nearing its end and the time for pointy objects would soon commence.

'Well?'

'Just looking for a jacket for you sire.'

A single eyebrow was raised but whether it was in regard to the blatant lie or the rarely used term of respect Merlin wasn't sure. Turning around he glanced at the available choices, quickly finding what he wanted. Pulling out a dark brown jacket he presented it to Arthur to trade for the return of his neckerchief.

'I should get going now; Gaius has some errands for me to run.' He went to flee the awkwardness of the situation but at the door was halted by a snicker. When he turned to face the suspect, that face was perfectly composed to one of utter boredom. Maybe he'd imagined it?

'Next time you're eager to rifle through my closet Merlin, there are a few things that require your attention. Oh, and if you're under the bed could you clean down there. You may go.'

Still a prat.

Okay, dashing into the deluge had seemed a beautiful idea at the time. But right now, soaked to the skin as he had originally wished for, Merlin was ready to concede that this wasn't his finest moment. It wasn't just wet anymore as night had been finding its way while he'd been losing his. His knowledge of magic was still limited so there was no spell to get him out of this. When he got back to his room that would be the first thing to research.

What was that? The heavy rain was dulling all sound but he'd been sure there was something in the direction of, of, of whatever was to his left. Turning in that direction he waited, heart pounding, fixated on any sound that would confirm he was no longer alone. There it was! A squelch that probably would have been a rustle if the weather were different.

This was definitely not his day. It had been fine at breakfast but had slowly descended into a nightmare about lunchtime. Now it looked like this tale would be ending with him not in the role of heroic figure but as the unfortunate damsel in distress. More of his accursed bad luck! With the image of a horse and it's rider finally materialising Merlin considered that maybe his day wouldn't have been so bad if he'd hung around for the ridicule and hard labour. At least he'd be dry and warm and not fearing for his life.

Curse his vivid imagination! The horse was bringing its rider closer to him so now was the time to pray that they weren't interested in drenched, cold, lost young male idiots. Not that destiny was giving him a helping hand today and was inclined to laugh in his face but it was worth a try.

'What are you doing out here?' He knew that voice, had spent since lunchtime fearing it speaking in louder tones to the calm one that he'd just heard.

'What about you?' The pause after his question was a little too long for his liking. He'd tried to remove any accusation from his voice but he was shivering courtesy of his own foolishness and had spent far too much time imagining all the ways he could die, thanks to Arthur.

'I can't have a dead servant now can I Merlin. They're not exactly productive.'

That same hand that he'd tried so diligently to avoid in the afternoon was held in front of him and this time Merlin welcomed it. At this point being master and servant didn't matter, nor did the indignity of being pulled to sit on Arthur's lap with those hands around him as if he was a fragile damsel. All that mattered was that he was being saved from his own stupidity and soon he'd be warm and dry with Gaius beside him calling him an idiot. It was also nice that Arthur wasn't growling at him and, on closer inspection, seemed to be smiling.

'Only you could think a little frolic in this weather was a bright idea.'

Still his prat.

AN. Thank you to all those who reviewed my last story, you're wonderful! To those who are new, it's the green button just down there. Use of the green button does not claim your soul.