Drift Wood

The soft sound of a cloth being rung out was what he woke up to. He felt it, cold and wet, being put on his forehead, and a rough hand holding his. All of a sudden there was a rippling pain in his head and he groaned.

"What happened?," he asked lifting his head and opening his eyes.

"You got in the way you bloody fool," someone's voice answered back. He sighed and fell back into the pillow letting his eyes fall shut again.

"Well that figures..."

"How's your head?"

"I never knew you cared Arthur, and my head feels fine, thanks."

"I don't. I just need to know if I need a new manservant." He opened his eyes again.

"Still a royal prat as always."

"And you're still a bloody idiot. I can't believe a piece of drift wood knocked you out." He had a look of disbelief on his face.

"It was a log!" Merlin whined.

"Whatever you want to believe, Merlin...," Arthur answered and shook his head.

He couldn't believe that Arthur thought it was drift wood. It was a log. If that prat went around saying that he was knocked out by drift wood, his reputation (not that he had a good one) would be ruined. They would think him even more of a clumsy idiot than they already did. It's not like he could do anything about it though. After all, he was just a manservant, Arthur was the prince. He had no more influence over what the people believed was going on between him and Arthur than a dog would.

"You're such a prat Arthur!"

"But I'm your prat," he answered and lent down to give him a chaste kiss, giving his hand a soft squeeze.

"Yes you are," Merlin murmured and deepened the kiss. He could deal with Arthur being a prat, as long as he was his prat