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Chilly vs. Hot

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“Arthur. Arthur, leave me the fuck alone, now I’m freezing!”

“You’re such a baby, Merlin. You just need is some fresh air.”

“I might be sick, but I’m not oxygen-deprived. Just leave me here on the warm, cosy sofa to diiiiiie.”

“Oh for fuck’s– You’re not dying.”

“I might be. And I definitely will be if you force me out in this weather.”

“It’s sunny!”

“No, it’s windy and chilly and yes, there might be a very bleak sun somewhere, but not even you can claim that it’s warm outside.”

“It is if you wear layers.”

“Oufh, what–? ... Is this your old sweater?”

“Maybe.”

“I thought you had thrown that out? Ah! But I don’t want to go outside. Look, it’s warm in here and... and... maybe we can find something else to do to keep me warm? You know? Like... you know!”

“I– Damn it, no, Merlin! You little– If you really were sick, you wouldn’t suggest that anyway. So now we’re going for a walk.”

“Buggering fuck...”

“...”

“...”

“Come on! At least lift your feet so that I can put your shoes on. I’m not your slave, you know!”

“Mmmm. Maybe you should be? This is quite nice.”

“...”

“Except the ‘going outside’ part. Why are we doing this again?”

“Because it’s a beautiful – put this on – autumn day and it’s colourful and lovely and romantic to go for walks in the park. And damn it, for once in our lives, we’re going to be romantic!”

“Whoa.”

“What?!”

“Um. How is it going tying my shoes for me?”

“It’d be easier if you would stand still. But that’s not what you were ‘whoa-ing’ about.”

“I just realised... You really have strong feelings about this romantic stuff, haven’t you?”

“Have not.”

“Wow. That was a way too quick an answer. God, you dooo.”

“Shut up.”

“Arthur’s a closet romantic! That’s something I didn’t know... wait, how didn’t I know this? We’ve been dating for six months! And how come Morgana hasn’t told me? She’s told me everything else embarrassing about you.”

“I’m not a closet romantic. Come on, you idiot. Let’s go.”

 

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“Yeah, this is really romantic, Arthur.”

“Shut up. It sort of is.”

“My snot is freezing.”

“Sexy.”

“I’m freezing, too.”

“Well, boo-hoo. Fresh air is good for you.”

“...”

“What?”

“Nothing.”

“Merlin. What did you say?”

“Nothing!”

“I swear to God I’ll force you around this park a second lap if you don’t say.”

“You’re lying.”

“Try me.”

“...”

“...”

“Fuck.”

“Yeah.”

“I just said that... umm. Maybe you need to take the icicle out of your butt sometime soon.”

“That’s... that’s really rude. No hot chocolate for you, then.”

“Ohh, hot chocolate?”

“Yes. For me. Who isn’t a dick to my boyfriend.”

“You kinda are. You forced me to go outside in a hurricane and rain and falling leaves and cars and I don’t know whatever else. That’s pretty mean, actually.”

“Merlin. It’s hardly windy at all, it’s not raining, falling leaves aren’t dangerous – just very picturesque and autumn-y – and cars? We live in London. It’s not like we ever manage to escape cars, anyway.”

“...”

“I don’t know why you’re so difficult.”

“Because I used to be warm and comfortable under a blanket on the sofa, and now I’m freezing.”

“Oh, please. A bit of chill builds character!”

“Uther always said that when you were a kid, didn’t he?”

“... Maybe. Does it matter?”

“It might. Will you make me hot chocolate?”

“No, you’re rude to me.”

“I’m going to stay here – at this exact spot – until you promise to make me hot chocolate.”

“Oh. My. God. Are you five years old?”

“Hot chocolate.”

“...”

“...”

“Fine! God! I’ll make you hot chocolate! Fuck it, you’re annoying sometimes.”

“Says the guy who goes for ‘romantic walks’ when it’s fucking below zero and windy.”

 

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“Here’s your chocolate. Happy now?”

“Yes.”

“You do realise I would have made you hot chocolate anyway, right?”

“Yes.”

“I’m not mean, Merlin.”

“Only sometimes.”

“I’m not!”

“... No, you’re really not. You’re kind, Arthur. I know you forced me to go outside out of a misplaced sense of affection.”

“You make that sound weird.”

“Nope, no, absolutely not, not at all.”

“I was going to offer you marshmallows, but you sure as hell aren’t getting any now.”

“Nooo, marshmallows! I want marshmallows!”

“Well, maybe you shouldn’t have–”

Arthur, you give me marshmallows right now!”

“...”

“Mmm?”

“...”

“...”

“Not marshmallows, but...”

“Yeah, no... But I might be okay with it. Another.”

“...”

“Mmm. I forgive you, Captain Prat.”

“‘Captain Prat’?”

“Mhm.”

“What... does that even mean?”

“It’s your superhero name, of course.”

“Of course. So, what’s my super power?”

“I’m thinking... kisses.”

“Kisses?”

“Yeah... And I’ll be the super villain, you know?”

“You’re not very super villain-y.”

“That’s why it’s the perfect cover.”

“Okay...”

“So, I do something villain-y... and then you have to kiss me, like so...”

“...”

“Mm. And then I get distracted from my super evil plan, because – apparently – you also are quite good at other... um, less PG actions.”

“Okay, I can work with this.”

“But just so you know: I’m the world’s only super villain in this scenario, okay?”

“Sure.”

“Or maybe your super power doesn’t work on other super villains.”

“That’s fine...”

“And– ah! Hnng...”

“Mmm?”

Fuck, Arthur.”

“It’s ‘Captain Prat’, to you.”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever. I’m thinking bad, super villain-y thoughts right now, though.”

“Oh, are you?”

“Y–yes...”

“So, where is the best place to be when Captain Prat defeats this super villain, then?”

“Bed?”

“Sounds good to me.”

“Captain Prat?”

“Yeah?” 

“Maybe autumn walks aren’t that bad, after all.”

 

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