Why hello, hello! I've had a few people say how they love my username, so I decided to finally write a fanfic about how I came up with it. Silly, crackish nonsense and hopefully you like the idea as much as I do! I wish that Merlin season 4 was out here on the weekend, but no. *sniff*. I'll just have to avoid spoilers until next year!
Disclaimer: if I owned Merlin, you I be writing a disclaimer? God I wish I did though. But then you'd all kill me, so maybe not.
Merlin stood in front of him, positively beaming with pride. In his hands was a silver tray, topped with some kind of knobby, unappetizing pieces of food. Arthur peered at them cautiously.
"Is that suppose to be a potato?" he asked, prodding one of the lumpy blobs. It was unexpectedly spongy and light like a cake, but it most definitely resembled a potato. Merlin's face fell slightly as the Prince continued to prod his creation with a mixture of curiosity and disgust.
"No, Arthur. I cooked them myself." Arthur's hand recoiled suddenly; he had too much experience with Merlin's cooking to trust even touching it.
"And what, exactly, are they?"
Merlin's smile returned again, making Arthur more unnerved than assured.
"They're great! Just try one!"
Arthur continued to eye the tray being earnestly pressed to him guardedly. He looked up into Merlin's wide, expecting eyes, his forehead creased slightly with the obvious desire for Arthur to enjoy his cooking. Arthur had given up because of this pathetic but endearing look before… but after that last time, he refused to be swayed. It had taken Gauis three hours to find the correct treatment for his swollen face. Apparently Merlin hadn't even tried the food himself, but went straight to Arthur for what he called a 'taste test'.
Arthur straightened, his eyes narrowing.
"Have you tried one yet, Merlin?" he asked slowly. A slight pink tinged Merlin's cheeks, the pleading look now melting into guilt. Arthur took a menacing step forward.
"Well, you know, that's beside the p-"
"Merlin, I am your Prince and you will answer me. Have. You. Tried. One." Merlin gaped for a moment, trying to think of a convincing lie, but popped his jaw shut at Arthur's intimidating expression.
"Well," he shuffled his feet slightly. "No, not exactly. But I swear you'll be fine this time!"
Merlin ducked hurriedly as the goblet from the neighboring table was flung at his head. He kept the tray as steady as possible, his creations wobbling around dangerously.
"Look," he straightened up once he was sure Arthur wasn't going to try and concuss him with anything else. "I swear they're great!"
"Merlin, last time I could have nearly died from your disastrous cooking!" Arthur roared, hand reaching out for another goblet. Merlin gave a small huff, clutching the tray closer to his chest defensively and ducking easily.
"You would have been ok, you're head's usually that size anyway!"
"The stocks are lonely again, Merlin, and since you like disgusting food so much I think you should pay them a visit!"
"Come on, " Merlin pleaded, ignoring the jibe. "just try one. I'll eat one at the same time as you. And if anything happens, I'll go in the stocks for a week." He added hurriedly.
Arthur froze half way between grabbing a helmet to throw. If he was forced to suffer, then Merlin would too, and he would be in the stocks for a week as well? Maybe that would stop him from cooking...
"Fine!"
Merlin grinned, carried the tray over, placing it down gently on the table, and grabbed the top knobbly potato-cake. Arthur grimaced slightly before picking up his own, the smallest one he would find.
"So, what are they called?"
"I haven't got a perfect name yet, but I was thinking about… muffins."
Arthur raised an eyebrow.
"Muffins? What kind of a name is that?"
"I thought it suited them."
Arthur gave a sigh. Muffins…such a Merlin word. Where did he get them from?
"Ok, on three we take a bite."
Merlin nodded, looking as apprehensive as Arthur felt.
"One."
"Two."
"Three!" they cried in unison, hurriedly shoving in the muffins.
The boys stared at each other. Time seemed to dilate. The world stood still, not a single breath of air stirring the space around them. Arthur swallowed, all of the joy, warmth and sweetness of the muffin filling the very core of his being. Tears were welling in his eyes. The moment seemed so surreal, so blissful, so perfect – and then Merlin bolted.
Arthur blinked.
"So beautiful…so delicious…. How could Merlin run off like th-"
And then he realised. The tray was gone. Gone. He stared down at the empty space on the table, uncomprehending.
"W-where?"
Merlin.
...
Arthur tore out of the room furiously, speeding down the corridors so fast those flung aside thought he was flying. Maids, knights and nobles were bowled over before they could even gasp as their Prince shot through the castle, his face a mask of pure determination.
Then he saw him up ahead, running at top speed, skirting past a startled group of maids. Arthur grinned maniacally.
"You may have longer legs, Merlin, but I've been trained to kill since birth!" mad laughter burst past his lips as Merlin glanced back and nearly stumbled, shock etched into his face. Arthur's grin faded as Merlin suddenly grinned mischievously.
"You may be trained Arthur, but I have other skills!" Suddenly Merlin burst forward, speeding along like the wind. Arthur gaped. How was that possible?
"You'll never get these muffins, Arthur Pendragon!"
Arthur roared defiantly, increasing his own pace by sheer will. He was somehow gaining on Merlin, slowly but surely closing in the gap again. Merlin glanced back and roared in frustration. There was the briefest flash of gold and Arthur blinked. The gold was gone; but he could have sworn-
"Why aren't you working? GO FASTER!" Merlin gave another cry of frustration.
Arthur gave up. He didn't care what that meant, all he cared about were the muffins Merlin was almost magically keeping on the tray as he ran.
"Merlin just give me the muffins!"
"NO!"
"GIVE THEM TO ME!" he was only feet from him now as they raced out into the courtyard, passers by staring in frank alarm at the livid Prince tearing after his fevered manservant.
Arthur reached out his hand – only a little more-
"MERLIN JUST GIVE ME-"
CRASH! The boys ran straight into the side of a hay cart, muffins flying through the air.
Arthur and Merlin, in a sore and bettered heap, groaned as the muffins rained down, smashing with little muffled thumps on the cobblestone ground. Arthur tried to move, but there was simply no hope. His muscles, after enduring such punishment, refused to work. Apparently Merlin was suffering the same fate. His arm rose about a centimeter off the ground before flopping uselessly.
"Um, Arthur." Merlin croaked, staring up into the curious and shocked faces of people gathering around them. He felt Arthur sigh.
"Yes, Merlin?"
"Do you want me to make some more?"
"…...Yes."
I really hope you guys liked it, and as always, reviews are appreciated. (psst, I'll make you virtual muffins if you do!)