Chapter 3

Warning/s: Nothing that goes above the T rating.

Disclaimer: I don't own Merlin.

A/N: Guys, I cannot stress enough how much I need prompts from you guys. I'm three chapters in and already I'm struggling to think of new ideas for each chapter. Not only that, but life hasn't been kind to me lately and I literally had no time or energy to write this chapter until about two days ago. I hope you enjoy anyway. And Merry Christmas!

Freya was stretched out on the sofa, various cushions scattered about the floor from where she had kicked them off. She was covered with a maroon blanket, which had fallen down on her left side slightly. Merlin blushed slightly at the sight of her bare shoulder – upon further inspection, he found her dress and bra laying in a heap just adjacent to the coffee table.

She snored gently and nuzzled into a cushion, murmuring nonsensical words. Merlin smiled at her and made his way through to his kitchen, yawning as he went and ruffling his messy hair. He flicked on the kettle and went to grab a frying pan. He swung open the cupboard door, paused, then went back to the kettle, which was making a strange, piercing wail.

"Doesn't sound too good," Freya commented, padding into his kitchen and flopping down at the table.

"No, I forgot to put any water in," Merlin replied, peering inside the plastic device. He slipped over to the sink and winced as the tap splashed cold water back into his face. Freya giggled at his "Mrrur" of discomfort and he turned back to chastise her. All he got out of his mouth was "Shu-" before he ran out of voice. Freya was still just wearing the blanket, which was wrapped around her like a cocoon.

Blushing, Merlin turned back to the kettle and pressed the backs of his hands to his cheeks, hoping the cool flesh would soothe his burning face. To his mortification, this did little to help. He quickly tried to banish all thoughts of what Freya looked like underneath the blanket. He took a moment to praise his earlier decision of getting changed before coming to make breakfast – he dreaded what situation he would be in if he was still clad in his baggy pyjama bottoms rather than his skinny jeans.

"'Shu-' what?" Freya prompted. She blinked at him, looking innocently beautiful with a face bare of make-up and a serious bed-head.

"'Shu-' nothing," Merlin said hastily. Seeing her face in his peripheral vision, he added, "Honest, it doesn't matter."

Freya pouted playfully at him. "Tell me," she cheeped cheerily.

"You don't need to know." Luckily for Merlin, the kettle boiled at that moment and he distracted himself by fetching two mugs and the jar of ground coffee. Studiously ignoring Freya's gaze, Merlin spooned granules and poured milk and added boiling water.

"Here," he said, sliding her cup over to her and taking a sip of his own. It was earthy and bitter, just how he liked it. Then he set it down again, well aware of Freya watching him over the rim of her own.

"It's rude to keep things from your best friend," she said suddenly – Merlin almost dropped the pan he had just retrieved and she snickered.

"Would you like boiled or scrambled eggs?"

"Stop avoiding my question."

"Stop avoiding mine."

Freya narrowed her eyes at him. "Scrambled – oh, is that bacon?"

"And mushrooms," Merlin replied.

"Yum. Toast as well?" Freya asked eagerly.

"There will be plentiful toast."

"Good. Now I've answered your question – you have to answer mine."

Merlin sighed, tipping mushrooms into the frying pan. "I was going to say 'shut up', alright?"

Freya raised her eyebrows. "So why did you stop? You've told me to shut up plenty of times before."

"My brain just…" Merlin made a few useless gestures in the general direction of his head. "It has a moment, and it temporarily forgot how to form words."

"You mean, basically what happens every other time you try to speak?" Freya teased, eyes twinkling.

"Yes." But only when I'm speaking to you, he added in his mind.

"You feeling alright? You're very quiet." Freya sipped her coffee, peering at him with curious eyes.

"I'm fine. I'm just a bit tired – someone woke me up at 3am this morning because she needed a place to crash." Merlin raised his eyebrows at her pointedly before turning his attention back to the now spitting bacon.

"Not my fault! Morgana locked me out because she had Gwaine over for the night!" Freya protested.

Merlin let out a long-suffering sigh. "What about Gwen's?"

"She was out with Arthur last night." Then Freya's eyes widened and she asked anxiously, "You don't really mind me crashing here, do you?"

Merlin, in the process of retrieving butter from his small fridge, attempted to stand up with his head, neck and most of his upper back still in the fridge. The result of this was an "Ow!", a loud thump that didn't sound too brilliant for the work surface about it and what sounded like maybe a lettuce rolling across the tiles.

A few seconds later, a thoroughly red in the face Merlin emerged (whether he was red in the face from pain or embarrassment, or quite possibly both, was a mystery to Freya), holding – indeed – a lettuce. "Of course I don't mind you crashing here?" he exclaimed. "You're my best friend, Freya, and I love you to bits!"

Freya was spared trying to find a response as compassionate by the smoke alarm going off. "Shit," he cursed. He darted back to the stove and frantically twisted dials until everything was turned off.

He looked relieved, but only momentarily. The incessant "BRP-BRP-BRP" caused a scowl to cross his features and he stormed over to where the alarm was fitted, grabbing a tea-towel along the way.

Growling at the noise - Freya giggled quietly to herself, Merlin was comic when he was annoyed – Merlin began to swat at the air around the alarm.

Within seconds, the galling sound stopped; somehow the silence that now fell between them both seemed to scream louder.

Merlin busied himself with slotting bread into the toast and clashing plates together, and serving their almost-burnt breakfast.

"That was delicious," Freya proclaimed as she leaned back in her chair, nibbling at her last slice of toast – by Merlin's count, her sixth.

"Thank you." Merlin stood up, scraping his chair back and collecting their plates.

"I didn't know you could cook so well," Freya commented, also getting to her feet and shuffling after him.

Merlin snorted. "It was hardly cooking. I just threw some stuff into pots and pans and heated it up."

"You didn't burn it though," Freya pointed out.

"Well, yeah, there's that." Merlin dumped the plates in the sink.

"I would," Freya said dejectedly. "Can't cook my way out of a paper bag."

"You don't need to be able to cook your way out a paper bag." Merlin pulled her into a hug, trying to not dislodge her blanket.

This proved to be harder than originally thought. "Oh – sorry!" exclaimed Merlin as he tried to free his hand from a fold in the blanket, and nearly pulled it clean off Freya.

"It's alright," Freya giggled. "I wouldn't mind." Then she realised what she'd said and backtracked hastily, turning bright pink: "I mean, I would mind, but if it was by accident, then it wouldn't be so bad, because I don't really mind if you see me naked if it was by accident because you're not purposely trying to see me naked." Freya looked down, obviously embarrassed, and it was then that Merlin made up his mind.

He ducked his head down to Freya's level and, uncertainly and hesitantly, pressed his lips against hers.

Freya responded in much the same way. She lifted her head up just enough to be easily kissing Merlin back, but it was still pretty awkward – neither of them were totally sure what to do, and there was a little too much clumsy teeth involved for either of their liking.

When they broke apart, Freya started up at Merlin. "Does this mean we're dating?" she asked breathlessly.

Merlin chuckled. "If you want us to be," he answered hopefully, tucking some of her tangled hair behind her ear.

"I would like that," Freya said quickly, and then added, "very much."

Their second kiss was much better.