Set after 2x02 (vague spoilers), ignores Gwen and Arthur's last meeting there.

Disclaimer: In no way does BBC's Merlin belong to me.

Second Try

It was with a sense of impending doom that Merlin made his way to the royal kitchens that afternoon.

He had returned from a quick swim to make absolutely certain that all and every leeches were gone and drowned – and yet, every other moment had the impression of feeling a small itch somewhere on his body and jumped and checked if maybe he had missed one – and wanted nothing more than to fall into his bed and sleep until dawn, only to find one of Camelot's knights waiting for him. One of the new and younger ones, one who wouldn't dream of letting Arthur win a fight and cheat himself of the chance to be praised by said prince; Merlin often wished, for his own sake, that this starry-eyed worshipfulness would vanish when you got to know the real Arthur.

The knight, who was noticeably twitching under Gaius' annoyed and suspicious gaze, had more or less dragged him outside, and there told him that the prince was waiting for him in the castle's kitchens, slight emphasis on "waiting". Merlin had sighed deeply, deliberated briefly whether he should go to bed anyway – and then he'd made his way to the kitchens, of course.

He found them empty safe for Arthur himself, and the sight of the prince standing surrounded by several plates and looking utterly helpless and confused almost destroyed Merlin' regrets for having gone; of course, they came back, together with a strong sense of déjà-vu, when Arthur spotted him, smiled brightly and exclaimed:

"Merlin, thank God."

"What are you doing here?" Merlin asked cautiously.

One of the plates contained raw chicken; the others several vegetables that, on closer inspection, looked like someone had tried to cut them with a blunt object.

"I'm trying to cook something for Guinevere."

Merlin gave the chicken a look: one would think Arthur would have been put off by the last experience with this particular dish. Merlin was aware of how Arthur's first attempt, if it could even be called that, had turned out. He had an inkling that the second try wasn't going to be much different; though the total absence of servants – or rather, the total absence of servants other than him – didn't bode well. Indeed, Arthur was looking at him with a far friendlier air than he ever had of late; Merlin was reminded of the time with Sophia when he found himself replying, the offer already implied:

"And you want me to do it?"

"What?" Arthur looked affronted, which was a bit rich, really. "No. I want you to show me." He made a grand gesture at the chicken, as if it were an enemy to be vanquished, then pointed at the other plates. "I cut the vegetables," he added, in a slightly uncertain tone, and Merlin couldn't help but smile.

"Okay," he said. "I can do that."

The meal looked... edible. Arthur, on the other hand, looked rather frustrated that it didn't look any better than that, but it was the best their combined efforts could manage. Merlin was pretty sure that cooking it on his own would have achieved better results and, in the end, taken much less work on his side, but it also would have involved less playful banter, him getting away with insulting the prince, and combined, uniting terror when the chicken was about to get burned; all in all, it had been nicest interaction they'd had in a while. Not that this stopped Arthur from sending him out again to fetch Gwen.

"Guinevere," Arthur said, straightening up upon seeing her; behind her, Merlin pointed at his own nose to signify that Arthur had a spot on his; Arthur frowned at him in confusion.

"Sire?" asked Gwen, in return, sounding dubious and ready to quietly disagree with was to follow, and looking around the kitchen.

"I..." Arthur paused, finally caught on to Merlin's signs, and quickly passed a finger over his nose; he took an audible breath, and went on, with that earnest and hesitant air he got around Gwen: "You have welcomed me in your home and, erm, put up with a behaviour that was not... as it should have been." He punctuated the last bit with a nod. "So in order to thank you –" He underlined this bit with a hand-gesture. "I would like to invite you to dinner. I made you dinner," he clarified, then looked at the ceiling, and corrected: "We made you dinner."

Merlin, who had retired to a corner of the room from where he could see both of them, smiled.

"Oh," said Gwen, and took another, not entirely friendly look at the finished chicken. "Thank you, sire. That's very kind of you." She glanced at Merlin, and smiled when their eyes met; Arthur observed that and frowned, intrigued rather than annoyed.

"Do you..." Arthur seemed to be searching for words. "...accept the invitation?"

"Yes," said Gwen quickly. "I mean." She glanced at Merlin, embarrassedly, then back at Arthur. "I've already eaten."

"Oh," said Arthur, and looked away; Merlin carefully avoided his gaze; Gwen looked down. There was a silence; the scent of freshly cooked – and quickly cooling – chicken was filling the air. "Sorry," Arthur eventually said. "I should have asked first."

"No," said Gwen quickly, earnestly, looking back up. "It's... well, yes, you should have," she admitted. "But I could keep you company anyway. If – I mean, if that's alright. Sire. I don't mean to presume –"

Arthur gave her an amused half-smile.

"I invited you," he said. "And I'm not going to force you to eat."

Gwen raised her eyebrows and nodded her appreciation of the fact. There was yet another silence. Merlin disturbed a piece of silverware on the table, making the other two jump and look back at him at the sound.

"Merlin," said Arthur, in a different, energetic voice. "Bring this up to my chambers."

He walked out of the room too quickly to hear Merlin's dubious: "Yes, sire."

Merlin looked after him for a moment, then resignedly went to try to load the different plates one over the other, and Gwen was there just in time to stop them from clattering down; they exchanged an exasperated look over the fuming chicken.

"Did he really cook?" Gwen asked, taking part of his load.

"I stopped him from doing too much damage, I think." He grinned at her, and pushed the kitchen's doors and held them open with his foot. "He tried."

Gwen sighed and followed him to Arthur's room.

Arthur stood up from his furred chair when they came in, and looked, with a confused and a bit worried frown, from Merlin to Gwen when Merlin tried to point at Gwen, and, more precisely, at the plates she was carrying, with his eyes. In vain; Gwen put them down herself.

"Anything else you need, sire?" she asked pointedly.

"Hm?" Arthur said, looking from Merlin's weirdly contorted face to her distractedly. "Oh, yes: Merlin get us some wine, and three cups." Gwen heaved a deep sigh and shook her head with the air of someone who's close to losing their patience, but Arthur wasn't looking at her. "Something wrong with you, Merlin?" he asked.

"No I'm fine," Merlin answered, in the same tone in which he assured Gaius that no, he hadn't been using magic, he must have been imagining that self-polishing armour, while walking toward the table and past Arthur who had stepped closer to him. "Wine and – two cups?"

"Yes," said Arthur distractedly; he had already turned back to Gwen, and gestured at her to sit down.

Merlin left the room and briefly considered leaving them alone, which would hurt, a bit, but be better in the end; still, they were bound to notice the lack of drink, and he was – curious, at least.

The awkward silence he found when he returned seemed friendlier than before he'd left; perhaps Arthur had apologised for his latest blunder, or Gwen had just decided to overlook it; they both turned toward him when he entered.

"Vine," Merlin explained, holding up the carafe, feeling like he had to justify his presence. Two pairs of eyes followed him on his way from the door to the table in silence. He filled both cups and stepped back. "I'll – leave you to it?"

"No!" they said, almost simultaneously, then looked at each other.

"I mean, sire..."

"No, if you..."

They fell silent; Merlin looked from one to the other in confusion. Arthur sighed, stood up and walked up to him and, putting both hands on his shoulder, guided him towards the table.

"Sit down." Merlin did. "I told you to bring three cups, are you deaf?"

"You can share mine," said Gwen, quickly. A strange glance passed between her and Arthur, guarded challenge and tenderness.

"And mine," said Arthur, sitting down, and putting his full cup down in front of Merlin with a clang.

"Er, thanks?" Merlin tried; Gwen lowered her head to hide a smile; Arthur crossed his arms, and it seemed no-one was going to eat until he did something, so he drank the wine.

~Fin~

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