"Merlin."

"Arthur."

Arthur glared over his shoulder, receiving a glare in return.

"Stop it!"

"Stop it!"

This time, Arthur did turn to completely regard Merlin. "You—you useless idiot!" Droplets of water fell from his sleeve in erratic rhythm as he poked Merlin's equally drenched tunic.

The people of Camelot, who were more than used to Arthur and his manservant bickering, only glanced at them for a second, amusement dancing in their eyes before continuing on their merry way.

"What do you think you're doing?" Arthur bellowed.

Merlin shrugged his shoulders. "Some posh-head screamed at me to stop being a little less me and a bit more like him so I'm heeding that advice and training to be a pratty, self-indulgent, tantrum throwing ass and who better to learn from than the master himself?" Merlin tilted his head in an innocent, questioning manner that only made Arthur bristle further.

"I did not throw a tantrum," Arthur hissed lowly.

"Of course not," Merlin agreed in what would have been a serious tone if only the upward twitch of his lips hadn't outed him.

Arthur stepped closer until Merlin felt his eyes cross.

"For the next two weeks, your cleaning duty shall extend to all my men. Clean their chainmail, swords, footwear, everything and anything that needs to be cleaned. If I find one speck of dirt, Merlin, I'm sending you to the stocks."

Any amusement that had formed in Merlin's eyes vanished. "W-what?" He sputtered late in response watching as Arthur walked away with the squish, squish, squish of his shoes following his every footsteps.

"You should have just told me you didn't know how to swim! Gwen was happy to have been able to save you from the mean, shallow pond!" If he was going to suffer, might as well milk it through.

Arthur stiffened. His fists clenched and with the way his hair drooped down like soggy noodles, he gave the best impression of a drenched, kicked puppy. This time, Merlin didn't hold his grin.

"A MONTH, MERLIN!"

Oh well. Arthur would thank him later.

Hopefully. Silently.