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The problem with having two of the most clever, smart mouthed people in close proximity, Arthur reflected, was that when they got bored, they got mischievous.
Back when Morgana and Merlin were on good terms, it was much like having a pair of cats in the same room. Sometimes they were hissing at each other and ignoring everyone else, and sometimes they would just knock things over for the chaos of it—the things in question generally being chairs, egos of people who were rude to one of them, and water pitchers. They would also occasionally flirt outrageously, teetering on the edge of decorum until someone called them out, in which case they would deny ever having done such a thing and flounce off indignantly.
As much as Arthur missed when his sister used to be around (and wasn’t psychotic), her relationship with Merlin was not something he missed.
Merlin and Gwen had a similar dynamic, for a long time, though they weren’t as…sharp together as Merlin and Morgana had once been. Arthur had been relieved until he learned that they were more inclined towards pranks than Morgana was, and were good enough to never be caught. When she became Queen, however, such behavior became much less frequent.
Then came Gwaine.
Not to say that Gwaine hadn’t been around before then, but as Gwen and Merlin inevitably grew apart with the new power dynamic, Gwaine stepped not into her place, but into his own, distinct role as Merlin’s dirty-mouthed and dirty minded best friend.
Arthur, while slightly resentful of this, quickly instead became annoyed (and perhaps a bit flustered, not that he would ever admit it) because Gwaine and Merlin were the most ridiculous flirts he had ever seen, and for the life of him he couldn’t tell if they were joking.
<=========[==o o==]=========>
“What do you think, Merls? Think Percy can take me?” Gwaine asked, handing his water-skin back to Merlin.
“Perhaps,” Merlin told him, his mouth twitching up into a smirk, “But we both know you’d prefer it the other way ‘round.”
Gwaine’s jaw dropped, and he watched in shock as Merlin strode away. Then, a grin spread across his face.
“This means war!” He declared to the rest of the Round Table Knights.
Arthur pinched the bridge of his nose.
<=========[==o o==]=========>
Merlin, irritated, adjusted his neckerchief, tucking it into the front of his tunic to avoid it flying up into his face as he rode alongside the knights on their latest patrol. Arthur, generally not included, had needed to get out of the castle enough that he had decided to come along, and Merlin had not missed the trips, but things were a bit better now that he had annoyed Arthur into letting him ride along rather than walk.
“Oi, Merlin,” Gwaine called from his horse, having noticed his fussing. “Why don’t you just take the thing off if it’s bothering you so much?”
Merlin raised an eyebrow, then smirked. “Why, Sir Gwaine, asking me to strip already? So forward of you!”
Gwaine shot him the filthiest grin Arthur had ever seen. “Who wouldn’t be when you're covering that long, gorgeous neck of yours. Has somebody already been appreciating it the way it deserves? That why you keep it covered all the time?"
Merlin huffed as primly as Arthur had ever seen any Lord and rode faster until he’d put Lancelot between himself and a laughing Gwaine.
<=========[==o o=]=========>
Gwaine was loudly bemoaning having to cut his hair again, as he had been for nearly a week. After the dozenth time his hair had gotten caught in his armor during training, Leon had told him that he could either pull it back like he and Lance did or trim it to just above his shoulders.
He, dramatic as he was, had decided that while it would be “a crime to deprive the ladies of his beautiful flowing locks”, needs must.
He did not, however, seem inclined to do it peacefully.
Honestly. It wasn’t even that much shorter!
Merlin sidled up next to the knight and nudged a shoulder against his, a brazen move that most servants would never consider and most knights wouldn’t tolerate.
Yet another thing that made him—both of them, really, so different than most.
“Really, Gwaine,” said, in a tone innocent enough that Arthur was instantly suspicious of his motives, “It’s still plenty long enough to pull, you don’t have to sulk about it!”
It took a second for the implications of Merlin’s comment to hit the assembled knights, but soon all the knights were chuckling, and Gwaine was laughing hard enough that it almost masked the redness of his cheeks.
Then Merlin leaned in closer and muttered something in his ear that actually had Gwaine gasping before running off after a cackling Merlin.
Arthur pinched the bridge of his nose and followed, already dreading the chaos they would inevitably leave in their wake.
<=========[==o o==]=========>
He had no idea how Gwaine had managed to get Merlin onto the training field with actual practice weapons. Arthur had been trying to get Merlin to train seriously for years, but had been met with stubborn resistance every time.
It seemed that he was finally getting to learn why.
As Merlin weighed two practice daggers in his hands, he remembered that he had only ever attempted to get Merlin to wield a sword, and never actually considered the possibility of him knowing how to use any other weapons.
Part of the reason Arthur had kept trying to convince him was because of occasional moments of ridiculous competence he had noticed over the years; a few too many battles where Merlin emerged mostly unscathed, tossing aside a sword or bow pilfered from whatever enemy had accosted them as the fighting waned, too many assassins knives deflected on serving trays and pitchers thrown with unerring accuracy to brain an enemy spy right before they struck.
Now, as Merlin faced off against Gwaine in a spar, he thought that perhaps his error was in assuming Merlin needed the training at all.
The fight was fast enough that he nearly had trouble following it.
Both men were uncommonly lithe and quick and clever when they weren’t putting up a front and it showed in the way they fought. It was more like dancing than anything, and as a man who had been trained since he was old enough to stand on his own feet to fight, Arthur was impressed.
It was a beautiful thing to witness, and for a few long minutes, Arthur simply reveled in the chance to watch.
Then, he was forcefully reminded of who he was watching.
Gwaine, smirking despite the sweat, shot a taunt at Merlin, something that Arthur couldn’t quite hear, that had Merlin baring his teeth in an expression something like a snarl that Arthur had never seen on his face before he pulled a move quick enough to be a blur that had Gwaine’s sword out of his hands and on the ground.
In a moment, Arthur’s Manservant had one of Camelot’s best knights on the ground, straddling his chest with twin daggers crossed over his throat.
They looked like something of legend, Patroclus getting the better of an Achilles distracted by his beauty, Gwaine staring up at Merlin, grinning fierce and proud, both of them sweat-covered and shining, breathing hard in exertion.
“Should’ve known how good you’d look on top of me.” Gwaine breathed out, and if the rest of the knights on the field hadn’t been staring in silent shock at Merlin they probably wouldn’t have heard it.
Merlin’s grin just went sharp, and he trailed one dagger down the skin of Gwaine’s neck, lightly and precisely enough that even if they had been sharpened they wouldn’t have cut.
Arthur didn’t hear Merlin’s reply because he had already started walking off in exasperation, but from the reactions of the rest of the knights, it was something to behold.
<=========]==o o==[=========>
The whole thing apparently came to a head when Gwaine kept needling Merlin for the entirety of the knights next hunt.
Leon claimed that Gwaine had provoked Merlin into shoving him into a lake, then not long after, the pair had disappeared into the woods for nearly an hour, then emerged covered in scrapes in bruises. He was convinced the pair had had some sort of scuffle, but whatever happened had calmed them down enough to be tolerable for the rest of the trip.
Now Arthur was doing something rather unkingly and tracking down his manservant to get the full story.
Unfortunately, this time barging into Merlin’s room had rather more dire consequences on his psyche than it usually did.
Just as soon as he processed what he was seeing, he left the room as quickly as he’d entered, covering his eyes in a futile attempt to scrub the sight from his memory.
Not just flirting then.
Gods, he needed a drink.