Arthur and Merlin were sharing a perfectly normal afternoon before the once and future king's emotions decided to royally screw it up. Merlin was humoring Arthur by playing target for the day while Arthur tried to hone a new sword technique that Gwaine had learned from a roaming sell sword. The move itself wasn't extremely complicated but getting the finesse just right so that it flowed smoothly and efficiently was a particularly difficult task. Arthur felt as if he had sweated through his chain mail by the time Merlin finally begged for a break.

"Please, Arthur," came the distinctly labored breath from the scrawny man servant. "I need a break. I feel as if I could pass out."

Arthur sighed as he lowered his sword. "Fine, Merlin," Arthur shrugged. "If you're going to be such a girl about it, I'll give you a break." Arthur felt his lips quirk into a smile at the glare that comment earned him. He followed his sweating, and likely bruised, friend over to a small bench set up on the side of the training grounds. It was late afternoon, sun just starting to paint the sky with its dusky hues, as the two sat down. Merlin immediately gulped down a glass of water while Arthur leaned back and allowed his heart rate to settle into a more regular rhythm.

"Pretty day, isn't it?" commented Merlin in between sips. "Nice to finally have a break in the clouds."

Arthur snorted a bit at this. "Really, Merlin. The sunset."

"It's a pretty one," said Merlin defensively. "Even you can admit that."

"It's a sunset, Merlin, just like any other one."

Merlin snorted at this. "No wonder you're no good with Gwen."

Arthur bristled at this, shifting to sit and face his friend. "And what do you mean by that, Merlin?" Arthur knew that Gwen didn't exactly fall head over heels for him like most girls, but he thought he was making headway with her.

"You've got to be a bit sensitive sometimes," Merlin said as he fiddled with the now empty mug in his hands. "Open up a bit. People like that."

Arthur snorted. "Sure, Merlin. Whatever you say."

"I'm serious," said Merlin, defensive tones slipping into his words. "Trust is important and being sensitive doesn't hurt."

"Well, then," countered the king to be, not ready to be proven wrong by his man servant, "what would you do in this hypothetical situation of yours?"

"Well, I'd-" started Merlin before Arthur tutted at him.

"No, no, Merlin. Show me, since you seem to be so hung up on that fact." Arthur grinned as Merlin shot him a pointedly exasperated look. Merlin sighed, seeming to accept the fact that he would have to do what Arthur wanted eventually, and cleared his throat.

"Don't you think the sky looks nice right now?" Merlin began, and Arthur had to catch himself at the man's soft tones. He seemed suddenly vulnerable, and Arthur was stuck trying to figure out if he was acting or not.

"I dunno, maybe it's a silly thought," Merlin continued sheepishly. "I've always liked the way the colors all mingled together. Makes me think of how the world could be sometimes."

"What do you mean?" Arthur found himself saying, skeptical as to where this was going, but curious nonetheless.

"Well, the colors. They all seem to blend well together, right?" Merlin said as he wetted his lips. "It's almost like people. Each distinct in their own way, but still working well together. Complementing each other. It makes me wonder if people could ever work that way some day."

Arthur had to suppress a smile. Merlin was obviously taking his part very seriously. Although he hand't quite convinced him that this would woo women.

"It also reminds me of you," Merlin said quietly, so quietly that Arthur wasn't entirely sure he heard it.

"What?" Arthur asked, feeling suddenly self-conscious about the whole situation.

"I-I," stammered Merlin looking up and flushing as he met the prince's gaze. "I mean that, uh," he started ineloquently, head down as he fiddled in earnest with the earthen ware in his hands. "It reminds me of your hair."

Arthur was surprised to find himself blushing, although he couldn't tell if it was out of flattery or embarrassment or offense.

"My…hair?" Arthur supplied simply. Merlin made a small noise of distress, but made no move to answer. After a tense moment, Arthur cleared his throat. "Well, Merlin, now we know why no one's been fawning over you," he offered in a vain hope to lighten the mood. Merlin gave small smile that bordered quite dangerously to a grimace.

Arthur leaned back and let out a breath. My hair, Arthur mused. He knew that it was foolish to dwell on it. Merlin had meant it as an example and nothing more, but the part of his brain that wanted to know everything impatiently tapped a foot at the lack of clarifying information. Arthur sighed. He would regret this, but it would drive him mad if he didn't get an answer.

"Why exactly does the sunset remind you of my hair?" Arthur grumbled, reluctant to make eye contact with the man beside him. He felt the bench shift as Merlin flinched at the sudden question.

There was a pregnant pause before Merlin finally replied, "They're the same color."

"I know they're the same color, you idiot!" Arthur said indignantly. He wasn't sure how stupid his man servant must think he is, but no one could be that dumb.

"I know, it's just," Merlin wavered, obviously debating what answer to give. Arthur was watching him intently now. There was no way he would leave this without an answer. The man beside him sighed and closed his eyes, face morose as he delivered his response.

"They're both something that is familiar and comforting to me."

Arthur paused at that one. What the hell is that supposed to mean? he internally ranted. My hair, of all things, is comforting?!

"You had better start making sense, Merlin, or I'll send you to Gaius," Arthur warned, slightly concerned for his friend's mental well being.

"It's how I find you," Merlin said, finally making eye contact with the man, and Arthur realized just how painful this was for him. "When we're out in the countryside or you're fighting or I'm searching the castle for you, I can usually find you by your hair. It's how I know you're still alive, sometimes, nothing but a bob of blonde hair running up a hill."

Arthur had a comment about how ridiculous this all was coiled on his tongue before a very small voice in his head uttered a single word.

Scarf.

Arthur inwardly swore in a sort of embarrassed frustration. That's what Arthur always used to find his friend. He'd wear that blasted thing anywhere, and while it was horrible for hiding, it was a very easy way to track down Merlin. And in that sense, it was comforting.

Don't say a word, Arthur warned himself, suddenly mindful of the small space between them, but found that when he saw his friend's miserable and embarrassed posture that he had to say it.

"Your scarf," Arthur offered gruffly, swearing by all the gods that he would die before he admitted something like this to him again. "I find you by your scarf."

Merlin raised a tentative gaze to his, blue eyes wide but tenuously hopeful. "So, you get it," Merlin stated simply.

Arthur blushed and nodded. "Yeah," he mumbled, fingers playing with the hilt of his sword. He could feel his heart start to hammer in his chest but had no idea why. He couldn't be that embarrassed, could he?

He dared to raise a gaze up and found that Merlin was staring back at him, the faintest of smiles playing at his lips. Arthur immediately glowered.

"Don't tell me that was a lie, because I swear, Merlin, I will kill you myself if it is."

Merlin gave a soft chuckle, and Arthur tried very valiantly to ignore the way his chest tightened just a bit. "No, Arthur, it wasn't a lie. But that is what I meant by opening up to someone." Arthur nearly growled in annoyance. If it were just friendly banter, this would all be fine. But there was something that was making this more awkward than it needed to be, and Arthur wasn't sure if he wanted to acknowledge the answer.

"Well, I think that's enough for the day, isn't it?" said Arthur as he pushed himself up from the bench. "You can clean up the field. I'm going to bathe."

Merlin's annoyed eye-roll did nothing to chase away the nerves in Arthur's stomach, and instead he found that he quickened his pace to get as far away from his friend as possible. He thought that he was in the clear as he toweled off from his bath, grateful that someone other than Merlin had drawn it for him, but froze when a familiar knock rapped at the door.

Merlin was here to deliver his dinner.

Arthur had forgotten about this change in meal plans and panicked as he debated what to do, pulling on clothes in desperate anxiety. He wasn't quite over whatever feelings were stewing in his mind at the moment, and for some reason, didn't think that the presence of his friend would help. But he was hungry so it wasn't like he could ignore him entirely.

"Arthur?" came Merlin's muffled call, and Arthur quickly made up his mind as he strode toward the door.

"Ah, Merlin," he greeted, consciously aware that he was acting incredibly odd but found that he could not stop it. "Thank you so much for bringing me dinner. I'll just take it from here," he said as he tried to swipe the plate from the man and dash back into his room. Merlin caught the door and planted his feet where he was.

"Are you all right, sire?" asked Merlin, a very concerned look on his face.

"All right?" Arthur echoed, cursing himself as his voice pitched up a few octaves. "Oh I'm fine," he replied in a deep baritone, only adding more tension to the already awkward situation. "No need to worry about me. You have the rest of the night off. I'll see you tomorrow."

Merlin gave Arthur one of those annoyed, almost bored looks he saved for situations where Arthur was being especially stubborn. Arthur sighed as he moved to sit at the head of the table, Merlin letting himself in and seating himself next to the prince, placing down another plate that Arthur hadn't even seen in his initial dash from the door.

"I didn't think that you would want to eat alone," Merlin supplied quietly as he began to eat. Arthur paused, pushing his food around his plate nervously. He looked up and felt that he had hurt Merlin somehow, but no matter how strange he was feeling at the moment, he couldn't just let his friend suffer.

"I appreciate it," Arthur offered back, spearing a piece of chicken on his fork and quickly stuffing his mouth.

It was Merlin's turn to pause as he raised his gaze ever so slightly. Arthur continued to eat on in silence, feeling his friend's gaze linger on his face. Eventually, the two had finished their meals and sat for a moment, neither willing to address the obvious tension in the room. Arthur forced his eyes to acknowledge the fact that his friend was still there when his mind registered an anomaly.

"You changed it?" Arthur asked, finding that reflexively his hand reached out to touch the object in question. He felt his skin touch rough material before his knuckles grazed soft, warm skin.

"My other scarf was dirty," Merlin managed, face flushing. Arthur could feel Merlin's voice vibrate on his hand, suddenly consciously aware of the fact that he was touching the man's neck.

Move your hand away! his mind screamed, but Arthur found that he was frozen, breath hitching as he gently moved his hand downwards. In that moment, both Arthur and Merlin realized that he was caressing his neck. And neither made a move to stop it.

You are a prince, Arthur's mind informed him sternly. He is your man servant. This is entirely inappropriate and unbecoming. But he found that his mind was easily tossing those words away, entirely focused on the heat that pulsed against the back of his hand. It was intoxicating, feeling Merlin's pulse begin to race under the feather light touch of his hand.

"Sire?" Merlin managed barely above a whisper, voice unsteady and breathy. Arthur felt his own throat tighten as his pulse quickened. Urged on by the chemicals in his veins, the prince ran a rough thumb over Merlin's jaw. The dark haired man sucked in a breath, eyelids fluttering closed, hands gripping the table in an attempt to steady himself. Arthur was aware that there was heat pooling in a region that was conveniently hidden by the table, but was too addled by the buzzing in his ears to do anything about it. He leaned forward in his chair as he shifted his hand to settle under Merlin's chin as he ran his thumb over the man's bottom lip.

They're so soft, Arthur realized, before he felt his mind completely stutter as lips briefly closed around his finger and by the gods was that his tongue?

Eyes met instantly, each gaze dark and loaded as they stared the other down, Arthur's thumb still hovering over the man's parted lips. This was new territory. Unfamiliar. Unexpected. In a startling moment of lucidity, Arthur's brain finally caught up with him.

"No," he said, quickly withdrawing his hand and pushing himself up from his chair. "This is… Gwen and I…"

Arthur searched for the words that would fix this, oblivious to the way Merlin suddenly closed himself off, face set, jaw clenched.

"Of course, sire. My apologies for the misstep. It shall not happen again," Merlin intoned. Arthur kept his eyes planted on the table, watching as a pale hand grabbed the remnants of his dinner from him. He had really hurt him this time. He didn't need to see Merlin to know.

But you are the prince of Camelot! You cannot lo- be attracted to another man, especially your man servant.

Arthur heard the latch of the door click smartly into place. He couldn't rightly focus on what happened. Couldn't even begin to sort out what feelings were running through his veins. He gripped the table harder before he slapped a palm down in frustration. This was not supposed to happen! He fancied Gwen. That in itself was a enough to incite his father's vitriol. To imagine what would happen if Merlin-

JUST STOP IT! came the internal rant. STOP IT, STOP IT, STOP IT!

There was no way for him to channel his frustration at the moment. No small task that needing doing that could temporarily distract his mind. Instead, he found himself changing into bed clothes and forcing himself under his sheets, trying to marshal his thoughts into some semblance of order. But he found that all he could do was stare at the pale moonlight that filtered in through his window until his mind finally dropped him into a restless sleep.


Author's Note: So apparently midterms week makes me want to write bad Merthur. Welp. Can't promise that this will go anywhere, but if y'all are interested, I'll see about following up. Also, place holder title is place holder-ry.