Ship(s): Merlin/Arthur
Main Characters: Merlin, Arthur
Author's Notes: unbetaed, a food fight was mentioned in the Poisoned Chalice.
Disclaimer: Merlin characters are the property of Shine and BBC. No profit is being made, and no copyright infringement is intended.

The festival table groaned with delights. Another feast, another show of opulence. There was candied fruit, spun-sugar confections that the cook had spent days on, chocolate from far-off lands, fudge and cakes of all sorts covered in fantastical decorative displays of Camelot's prowess in battle and courtly amusements. There was even a model of the castle itself, its walls made of some type of cake with hardened sweet frosting and windows glazed with melted sugar.

It was enough to make Merlin's mouth water just thinking about it.

It was lovely, to be sure, but a wasteland of real food, nutritious vegetables, baked meat pies, roasts and duck and fishes from the sea. The necessary things of life, not this display of wealth but good, honest fare.

So, trying not to snark too much about it, Merlin followed Arthur like some kind of lapdog, holding a tray of desserts in case Arthur got peckish as they wandered among the crowd—and never mind the idea that Arthur could have just got his own damn sweets from the dessert table but no, he needed a poor put-upon manservant to trail after him instead.

When Arthur popped yet another piece of cake into his mouth, his lips all painted in crème and crumbs, Merlin rolled his eyes.

"It looks like I'll be poking another hole in that belt of yours," Merlin muttered.

Arthur turned around at that, gazing at him with suspicion. Merlin hadn't meant for him to hear it, but he'd made the mistake of not looking where he was going, holding the tray of confections close to Arthur because he had already been berated twice for not paying attention. Arthur scowled at him, snapping, "What was that?"

Straightening up, trying to look innocence, Merlin said, "Just contemplating my workload for tomorrow, my lord."

Arthur wasn't having any of it. Highly suspicious, looking like he'd just eaten a lemon rather than some delicious cake, Arthur's frown deepened. "Competence is always welcome. However, I doubt you will find it anytime soon."

Giving him a gormless smile, when Arthur didn't relax, just stared at Merlin as if waiting for the other shoe to drop, Merlin lifted the tray, saying, "Jellied fruit?"

Arthur gave a huff of annoyance at that. But he did pop one of the sugar-encrusted grapes into his mouth before turning away.

Scowling at the retreating back, Merlin muttered, "Arse. At least I won't be rolling around, trying to fit into my trousers in the morning. Although that really will be a sight to see. Maybe I should sell tickets."

He really should check Arthur's hearing because the git turned around, grabbed onto Merlin's jacket and pulled him to one side. Looking down at the half-filled tray, Arthur said, "Maybe you should get me more of a selection."

"Maybe you should get your own and walk off some of those calories," Merlin shot back.

"And the competence is gone, before it's even begun." Arthur let go of Merlin's jacket, staring at him as if trying to puzzle Merlin out. "Selling tickets? Really? Merlin, sometimes I wonder if you know who I am."

Merlin blinked at that, grinning his idiot smile at Arthur. "A dollop-head?"

Arthur's eyes narrowed, then he looked down at the tray of desserts that Merlin thankfully had not dropped. He gestured Merlin closer. "Merlin, come here."

It was never good when Arthur looked like he was planning something, but they were still in the hall and if he didn't obey, there might be stocks in the morning for him. With a great sigh, Merlin stepped closer, although keeping the tray between them, just in case.

Arthur picked up a piece of vanilla cake, one with gooey frosting, and twisted his fingers from side to side looking at it, as if it held the secrets of the universe in the crumbs. Then he smiled, troublemaker at the ready, and shoved the cake into Merlin's face.

It mostly hit Merlin's mouth and he could taste the deliciousness of it, but the frosting was smeared on his nose and cheek. He pulled back, snapping, "Hey, what the…?"

But Arthur wasn't through. He lobbed jellied grapes into Merlin's neckerchief which slithered down past his neck and into his tunic.

Merlin was so surprised that he didn't drop the tray, a miracle in itself, then spat out the remains of the cake and glared at Arthur. "What the hell do you think you are doing?"

But other people in the hall noticed. It seemed to be some kind of signal. There was a sudden growl of delight and a 'food fight' yell, and as Merlin looked over, there were puddings flying and the melted sugar windows spattered onto the floor. Knights grabbing for cake and fudge and the top of one of Camelot's cake turrets before flinging them across the room. Servants ducking out of sight and ladies throwing jellies and frosting at the other nobles.

For a moment, Merlin just stood there, unbelieving, then as Arthur threw more cake at Merlin, he jerked back, grabbing one of the puddings and throwing it square in Arthur's face.

It would have been funny, the creme dripping off Arthur's jaw and onto his very hard-to-clean suede jacket, but Merlin was horrified at the waste.

As Arthur tried to grab something else off the tray, Merlin glared at him, then stomped out of the room, the tray still in his hands.

Arthur followed him, yelling, "Where do you think you are going? It's not over yet."

"It is for me, you clotpole. You supercilious, cabbage-headed toad. Wasteful reprobate." Then Merlin shoved the tray into Arthur's startled hands and stalked off.

It took ages to get the cake out of Merlin's hair. He didn't waste it, though, licking his fingers clean, but thinking of all that food turned into garbage. The way it was squandered, just spoiled and inedible.

By the time he was done, Arthur reappeared. Merlin figured he was in for it, especially since he'd made a fuss at what was obviously a regular thing.

But Arthur didn't berate him. "It's not often. It's a way of showing people that we are rich. That we can take care of our own."

There were still stains on Arthur's jacket and Merlin knew it would take hours to clean it properly. It made him angry and sad at the same time. "Where I come from, we have barely enough to eat. One bad harvest and we lose people. They starve to death, Arthur. And you are… you are… you seem to think nothing of it."

"It's tradition," Arthur said. He looked abashed about it—which was something at least.

"Well, to hell with tradition then," Merlin said, trying not to yell. "The poor don't really care about tradition if they are starving to death. If you really care about your people, maybe have a tradition of everyone having enough to eat."

"I never thought about it." Arthur looked down at his jacket, flicking off encrusted frosting. "Look, Merlin, I should have warned you, but everyone knows so… but you are right. Sometimes you are even wise. For a peasant."

"Thanks?" Merlin said, reaching in and finding an errant frosted grape entangled in his tunic. He popped it into his mouth and chewed. "These are really good, you know."

"My favourite are the fudge squares. We don't get them often." Arthur's cheek was a little pinked. "Look, Merlin, I just never thought about it." He gave a little sigh. "I'll talk to my father about it. And just so you know, there was plenty of leftovers still in the kitchens. Maybe we can distribute them to the poor tomorrow? Just… don't mention it to the king. He's a bit touchy about it, especially after you stomped off. I had to talk him out of stocks and rotten fruit."

"Thanks, I think," Merlin said, then pointed to a spot Arthur had missed, a bit of cake in his hair. "Hold still." He reached up, plucking the mess out of his hair, then dropped it into the trash. "There, much better."

Arthur grinned. "Thanks."

"I'll still have to put another notch in your belt." Merlin said, "Or you could work it off?"

"Obviously, your eyesight needs work. I am fighting fit." Arthur did look down at his belly, then his mouth turning down in a little grimace. "But I'm sure my manservant will help with running around the castle a few times, setting up targets, a few rounds of sword and shield."

"Oh, not sword and shield. Last time I thought my arm would fall off," Merlin moaned.

Arthur's eyes lit up. "It's good for you. Put some meat on your bones." He stepped closer, whispered into Merlin's now-clean ear, "After, we can polish a few swords. I know that's your favourite, polishing."

"Almost as much as having a lie-in," Merlin shot back.

"That can be arranged." Arthur grinned. "I do love a good lie-in."

"Have at you, lazy daisy?" Merlin said, trying to keep the eagerness out of his voice.

Arthur leaned forward, pulling out another grape which had been caught in Merlin's neckerchief, then rubbed it against Merlin's lips. When Merlin opened his mouth, Arthur pushed it in, then followed it with a lingering kiss. "Any time, Merlin, any time."

And later, if a few sugared grapes tumbled out of Merlin's tunic, they were too busy to notice.