Teasing, toothache-inducingly sweet. M/M, continued.
UPPER HAND
.
'What was that all about?'
Merlin had returned to the ill-advised soup that had pieces in it even his magic could not identify. Morgana seemed out of balance and… flushed? ... after that phone call.
'Oh. Nothing. Just Uther worrying you will get me knocked up, is all.'
Some of the spicy soup came out of his nose. That hurt. Morgana might be a seer after all.
Holding his nose in a table napkin, he tried to regain enough composure to say without crying that it was quite rude to smirk at someone in pain.
'Aww, I forgot. Old habits.' She quipped back.
The smirk didn't die yet and Merlin had the urge to tackle her right at this table. Later, in their room, after she had nursed him to back to health, they would continue their struggle, which Morgana was regrettably still winning.
'Admit it. Admit it to me.'
She urged on, pressing harder into his abdomen with a tight grip around his arms.
Merlin huffed with defeat.
'Morgana Le Fay, you were right about the spice.'
Morgana kissed him as a reward. Losing had never been so easy.