When Merlin came back to the bathroom after he'd grabbed some fresh towels from the bedroom drawer he froze in the door frame to be the witness of a certainly fascinating spectacle. The once and future king of Camelot who let himself never get excited about circus folk with all their artistic entertainment was now going berserk by twisting taps and watching the water emerge, splashing it everywhere in the prozess. Moving through the small room he'd turn it on and off like a mad man being overjoyed by increasing or lessening the flow without any effort.

„This is significant!" Arthur shouted observing the steady stream coming from the sink tap then turning around to face his former manservant to give him one of these wide innocent smiles he used to wear more often when he was younger. „There is water just like that. And than there is non. You don't want to tell me again this has nothing to do with sorcery."

Merlin gave his friend a fond smile that turned into a little smirk after he heard that for the thousandth time today. Meanwhile the ladder was approaching the shower.

„Tell me, Merlin, where does the water come from?"

„Ahm...er...from the pipes."

„Pipes? Whatever these are...and where do the 'pipes' get it from?"

Merlin opened his mouth and shut it again in confusion. Now that he thought about it he noticed he'd never really known. The achievements and inventions of the modern world where numberless, it'd be completely impossible to learn their every function and purpose.

„Well, ahm...where the pipes get it from...I guess..."

One of Arthur's eyebrows moved up sceptically.

„So it's magical after all..."

The warlock wanted to object but right in that second his king stepped into the shower turning the tap without thinking.

„No, Arthur, don't-!"

A surprised shriek left Arthur's mouth as he tried to escape the icecold splash from above by flinging his arms around in the small cabin stumbeling backwards. Merlin saw him fall before it happned. With one hand oustreched in front of him he sent a flash of raw magic in his friend's direction keeping him from hitting the tiled floor. Everything went quiet besides the water pouring from the showerhead. The once and future king had squeezed his eyes shut in shock and was now popping one eyelid open to find out why the expected painful crash wasn't coming.

„This, my Lord, is sorcery." Was Merlin's last comment on the whole matter. He let Arthur sink gently to the floor and decided to pour his soaked friend a bath. After being dead for thousand years he needed one anyways.

About half an hour later Arthur had gotten over the fact that Merlin hadn't to heat water over a fire to raise it's temperature but that the walls were somehow able to produce it and started to enjoy his bath finally. His former servant just made his way back from his room where he'd fetched some clothes for his king to change into when the sight of him in the bathtub caught his attention at the door. Arthur's skin, usually pure and pale, was highlighted with certain shades of pink while the steam encircling him made him look damp and painted his bright hair in a somewhat darker colour. Merlin almost forgot how to breath when the memories hit him out of nowhere.

Arthur after battle. Arthur after a hunting trip. Arthur after knight-training. His body covered in sweat, bangs sticking to his forhead, cheeks flushed in the adrenalin rush. Pictures that made the sorcerer's heart race. And there he was, his king, head tilted backwards, eyes closed, the muscular chest rising and falling slowly and hypnotically. Merlin was drawn to this view. Drank it, swallowed it, took it in so deeply that it seemed he could never get out of it again. Just in this second Arthur's eyelids snapped open and he turned around to let his intense blue eyes, now somehow blurry with something Merlin couldn't name, settle down on his friend's fragile figure holding the clothes tight in both hands. A gorgeous smile appeared on his face and he held his hand out.

„Come here." Was all he said and it made Merlin blush like a teenage girl. The clothes dropped and Arthur chuckled lightly. „Merlin, don't be such a girl. Just get in the tub."

The sorcerer swallowed hard while picking up shirt and trousers to throw them over the laundry basket. With slightly shaking hands he pulled the T-shirt over his head and let it fall to the floor to start fumbling with his jeans. When he was about to push them down he hesitated. Merlin could feel Arthur's intense stare on his body and he looked up to find him watching his every move. Pleased.

„Stop staring." He mumbled.

„Am I embarrassing you?"

„Yes."

Arthur laughed.

„But how? I've seen you naked more than once."

„But you never watched me strip." Merlin answered sullen.

„And how do you know that?"

The question made him blush even deeper and Merlin had to bite his lips to hold back a scream of frustration.

„So you did."

„Maybe...but that's not the point. Come on, strip and get in here."

When Merlin didn't move the king couldn't hold back an annoyed sigh.

„Please. You must be cold too and I don't want you to get sick and..." He paused.

„And what?" Merlin asked with something diffrent from curiosity. Was it hope?

„And I've been seperated from you for an eternity so would you, by all deities on this earth, get out of your clothes now and come to me so I can feel you and be sure, this isn't just a dream?"

That was all it took to make him almost jump out of his trousers and into the tub, into Arthur's arms. His king's eyes were downcast, a certain red in his cheeks that definitly wasn't created by the warm water which was surrounding them. Merlin sank into another tight embrace of strong arms holding him against the broad chest he had seen so often while getting Arthur dressed or treating his wounds. But none of his phantasies were needed this moment. Not when he had the real thing right in front of him. And while he could feel soft kisses being pressed in his hair and gentle hands caressing his skin he could not care less about the centuries he'd spent waiting for this.