A/N: Thank you GuestM Live and Buckhunter for reviewing!

Follow up to No. 9

No. 19 Cold

Lancelot flinched as the wet cloth touched his exposed side.

"Did that hurt?" Merlin asked worriedly.

"No, just cold."

Lancelot lay on his side, head pillowed under one folded arm as Merlin draped cool, soaked towels over the feathered burns he'd sustained from a lightning strike a few days ago. His heart was still prone to random flutters, and so he was on prolonged bed rest per Gaius's orders. He was told the burns would eventually fade, but for now they were still raw and hot to the touch. Thus Merlin's ministrations to attempt to alleviate them.

But with the lower temperatures after the storm, submitting himself to cold, wet coverings wasn't exactly pleasant for the rest of his body.

Merlin turned one of the other towels over, renewing the cold sensation against Lancelot's skin. When the heat of his burns leeched the rest of the coolness away, Merlin would soak it again and place it back on his skin.

Lancelot shivered and tried to distract himself by lifting his free arm to inspect the unusual markings that had branched up his chest and down the limb. They looked like the forking splays of frost across a window, save for the fact these were red.

"They're kinda beautiful, in a strange way," Merlin remarked.

Lancelot couldn't disagree. "Touched by the hand of God," he murmured.

"No kidding. It's almost a shame they should fade."

"People don't take visible signs of otherness well," Lancelot commented.

"True."

They fell quiet for a moment, save for the slosh of water in the bucket as Merlin wrung out another cloth.

"But you're right," Lancelot added softly. "Some marks are to be remembered."

"I doubt you'll forget this even without the marks," Merlin said. "I certainly won't."

Lancelot hummed and lowered his arm so Merlin could lay the wet cloth over it again. The cold was soothing to the burns themselves, but Lancelot's body started to give a more jerky shiver now.

"Sorry it's so cold," Merlin said, then perked up. "I could try some magic to warm you up."

Lancelot shifted his gaze directly toward his friend. "How is your magic?"

Merlin shrugged one shoulder. "It's fine."

"Merlin."

"I'm not going to accidentally shock your heart again," he said wryly.

"That's good, because it's had enough of that."

Merlin set the cloth in his hands aside and rocked forward on his knees, raising his hand. "May I?"

Lancelot nodded.

Merlin uttered a spell word, and his eyes glowed gold. Lancelot always found it fascinating to watch him perform magic. Other than his eyes, there was no visible sign that anything was happening, but a warmth blossomed in Lancelot's sternum and spread outward, reaching all the way down to his chilled fingertips and toes. His face relaxed into a lazy smile.

"That is nice."

Merlin grinned and went back to frequently changing the wet cloths. "How is it now?"

"Perfectly balanced," Lancelot replied.

So balanced, in fact, that Lancelot thought he could drift off to sleep right then and there, secure in the presence of his magical best friend.