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camelot_drabbleAuthor: 
archaeologist_d
Title: Mischief - part 6 - blind
Rating: PG-13
Pairing/s: none
Character/s: Merlin, Arthur, Morgana
Summary: Arthur is stubborn as a rock and Merlin isn't much better.
Word Count: 466
Camelot_drabble Prompt: 479, They keep changing the rules
Author's Notes: unbetaed, more adventures with Merlin the cat. Apparently it is more than a one-off.
Disclaimer: Merlin characters are the property of Shine and BBC. No profit is being made, and no copyright infringement is intended.
--------------------------
Morgana stomped out in a huff, yelling about wankers and Arthur having lost the plot before slamming the door. Merlin wasn’t much better.
Ignoring Arthur, he stalked off, his tail swishing madly. He was grumbling, too, a series of yowls and snarls, and ignored Arthur’s commands to come back. Even opening the can of Merlin’s favourite tuna wasn’t enough. Merlin slithered under the bed, out of Arthur’s reach, and stayed there.
As Arthur lay on the floor, moving the tuna back and forth, trying to get his ridiculous cat to come out, Merlin just glared at him, hissing, too, whenever Arthur got too close.
It was completely absurd. Arthur was a manager, for fuck’s sake, taking care of millions of pounds at the accounting firm and he couldn’t get one obstinate cat to listen to him? Getting his trousers dirty—he really needed to vacuum at some point, wasting time yelling at a cat when he could be relaxing with a glass of wine and a good book, instead he was brought low by a demon kitten. After having listened to a lot of bollocks about magical powers.
Nope, not doing that. With a heave, he pushed himself up, dusted off his clothes, and stomped out into the kitchen. Arthur dumped the rest of the tuna into a bowl—he wasn’t going to waste Sainsbury’s finest just because Merlin was in a strop, then poured himself wine and settled in for the night. The mess would still be there in the morning and maybe, just maybe, the cabbage-head of a cat would come to his senses, and figure out just who was in charge.
-------------------------
Arthur was blind. He couldn’t see, he couldn’t breathe. Something heavy and warm was holding his head down and for half-a-second, just coming out of a deep wine-soaked sleep, he panicked. Sitting up, shoving the furry menace off, it took him a while to realise it had been Merlin laying across his face again.
His idiot kitten was flying across the room, scattering books and the wine glass which thankfully did not shatter when it fell. Merlin groused at him, full of insults and whinging. At least, the cat had come out from under his bed. How he got on top of the mantle, though, without a clear way up, was a mystery but Arthur wasn’t going to think about it.
Merlin had forgiven him enough to come out, enough that he’d draped himself over Arthur, and that was good enough for Arthur.
No more thinking about magic. They could go back to master and Lord-High-Muckimuck Merlin-the-magnificent and all would be right with the world.
Never mind the Once and Future King book hovering in the air a few feet away, and Merlin’s eyes glowing with power.
Arthur needed another drink.
-----------------------------------
Title: Books and ships, oh, my
Summary: Arthur’s coming to terms with things he can’t explain
----------------------------
He didn’t drink any more of the wine. He considered harder stuff, whiskey or vodka, but Arthur suspected that it wouldn’t change anything. After all, much as he didn’t believe in magic, Morgana wasn’t above pulling a long prank just to rile him up.
Padding over to the book, looking for strings or wire or something else that might have kept the book in the air, Arthur couldn’t find anything. It was possible she used magnets, but he examined the bindings, too, and it was just a book. Nothing more.
Sitting down, staring at the book in his lap, its pages fluttering back and forth as if someone were riffling through them—even though there was no one else there, Arthur didn’t know what to do. It was like the book was cursed or something or maybe Morgana had put something in his drink to make him confused about reality.
Or maybe he’d gone mad after all. And wasn’t that a lovely thought?
A lifetime later, down from his mantle perch, Merlin tiptoed over to Arthur and nudged Arthur’s arm with his whiskered chin. It could have been sympathy or maybe he just wanted dinner.
When Arthur didn’t react, just stared down at the fluttering pages, Merlin gave a little grumble, then stepping onto Arthur’s thigh, reached over with one paw, and patted at the drawing. It was the same page again, the one where Wart turned into a fish.
At least, the page stopped flapping.
“I don’t believe in magic, Merlin. I can’t. Everything I’ve ever learned tells me that it’s just made-up stuff and nonsense. In the olden days, a lot of things would look like magic to the uninformed, but we’ve come a long way since then,” Arthur murmured. Looking down into Merlin’s golden eyes—he’d never noticed the little flecks of blue in the depths before, Arthur sighed. “I wish you could actually talk and tell me what’s going on. Is Morgana pulling something? Or was it just a bad batch of wine and I’m hallucinating?”
With that, Merlin stretched up, rubbing his whiskered face against Arthur’s chin, his paws on either side of Arthur’s neck as if hugging him.
Arthur couldn’t help it. He reached around and hugged Merlin back, gently as to not hurt him, but it felt so good to feel the warmth of fur and a little body soft against his chest.
Purring madly, Merlin let him.
“I love you, you little fiend. You’re the best cat in the whole world. Even when you drive me crazy with your wild running around and pushing things off the mantle. You are hopeless at a lot of things, but I love you anyway. Although I haven’t forgiven you for ruining my ships. They took me forever. But I guess that’s the price I have to pay to keep you, my model menace.”
Merlin struggled out of Arthur’s arms, then gave him a pointed glare before stalking off. It was almost as if Merlin understood him.
“Oh, don’t be like that.” Arthur gave a little laugh. “You know I love every irritating part of you.”
At least, the book pages hadn’t started flapping again.
-----------------------
Arthur didn’t go after Merlin. Sometimes they needed space and time to get over things, Merlin most of all. That cat could hold a grudge like nobody’s business.
But the flat was too quiet, and that was never good. With a great heave, putting aside his old TH White book—it hadn’t flapped a jot since Merlin had gone into the bedroom, Arthur went in search of his Lord-High muckamuck demon of a cat. He just hoped that Merlin hadn’t torn up his bed or got cat hairs all over his jackets. Although cat hairs on his best and most expensive suits were usually a given.
In the corner, where he’d dumped the remnants of his ship building—he hadn’t had the heart to throw out the mess yet, the bottles were all lined up, side by side, and inside each one, he could see a ship, battered and broken. Inside. Of sealed bottles.
Arthur sat down at that. Plonked down, really, his legs a little wobbly, as he stared at the impossibility.
Climbing back onto Arthur’s lap, Merlin purred, then draped himself over Arthur’s leg and settled in for a nap right then and there.
Arthur let him.
But he couldn’t help blinking down at his wayward cat and wondering if it wasn’t true. That there was magic afoot and Merlin at the heart of it.
archaeologist_dTitle: Mischief - part 6 - blind
Rating: PG-13
Pairing/s: none
Character/s: Merlin, Arthur, Morgana
Summary: Arthur is stubborn as a rock and Merlin isn't much better.
Word Count: 466
Camelot_drabble Prompt: 479, They keep changing the rules
Author's Notes: unbetaed, more adventures with Merlin the cat. Apparently it is more than a one-off.
Disclaimer: Merlin characters are the property of Shine and BBC. No profit is being made, and no copyright infringement is intended.
--------------------------
Morgana stomped out in a huff, yelling about wankers and Arthur having lost the plot before slamming the door. Merlin wasn’t much better.
Ignoring Arthur, he stalked off, his tail swishing madly. He was grumbling, too, a series of yowls and snarls, and ignored Arthur’s commands to come back. Even opening the can of Merlin’s favourite tuna wasn’t enough. Merlin slithered under the bed, out of Arthur’s reach, and stayed there.
As Arthur lay on the floor, moving the tuna back and forth, trying to get his ridiculous cat to come out, Merlin just glared at him, hissing, too, whenever Arthur got too close.
It was completely absurd. Arthur was a manager, for fuck’s sake, taking care of millions of pounds at the accounting firm and he couldn’t get one obstinate cat to listen to him? Getting his trousers dirty—he really needed to vacuum at some point, wasting time yelling at a cat when he could be relaxing with a glass of wine and a good book, instead he was brought low by a demon kitten. After having listened to a lot of bollocks about magical powers.
Nope, not doing that. With a heave, he pushed himself up, dusted off his clothes, and stomped out into the kitchen. Arthur dumped the rest of the tuna into a bowl—he wasn’t going to waste Sainsbury’s finest just because Merlin was in a strop, then poured himself wine and settled in for the night. The mess would still be there in the morning and maybe, just maybe, the cabbage-head of a cat would come to his senses, and figure out just who was in charge.
-------------------------
Arthur was blind. He couldn’t see, he couldn’t breathe. Something heavy and warm was holding his head down and for half-a-second, just coming out of a deep wine-soaked sleep, he panicked. Sitting up, shoving the furry menace off, it took him a while to realise it had been Merlin laying across his face again.
His idiot kitten was flying across the room, scattering books and the wine glass which thankfully did not shatter when it fell. Merlin groused at him, full of insults and whinging. At least, the cat had come out from under his bed. How he got on top of the mantle, though, without a clear way up, was a mystery but Arthur wasn’t going to think about it.
Merlin had forgiven him enough to come out, enough that he’d draped himself over Arthur, and that was good enough for Arthur.
No more thinking about magic. They could go back to master and Lord-High-Muckimuck Merlin-the-magnificent and all would be right with the world.
Never mind the Once and Future King book hovering in the air a few feet away, and Merlin’s eyes glowing with power.
Arthur needed another drink.
-----------------------------------
Title: Books and ships, oh, my
Summary: Arthur’s coming to terms with things he can’t explain
----------------------------
He didn’t drink any more of the wine. He considered harder stuff, whiskey or vodka, but Arthur suspected that it wouldn’t change anything. After all, much as he didn’t believe in magic, Morgana wasn’t above pulling a long prank just to rile him up.
Padding over to the book, looking for strings or wire or something else that might have kept the book in the air, Arthur couldn’t find anything. It was possible she used magnets, but he examined the bindings, too, and it was just a book. Nothing more.
Sitting down, staring at the book in his lap, its pages fluttering back and forth as if someone were riffling through them—even though there was no one else there, Arthur didn’t know what to do. It was like the book was cursed or something or maybe Morgana had put something in his drink to make him confused about reality.
Or maybe he’d gone mad after all. And wasn’t that a lovely thought?
A lifetime later, down from his mantle perch, Merlin tiptoed over to Arthur and nudged Arthur’s arm with his whiskered chin. It could have been sympathy or maybe he just wanted dinner.
When Arthur didn’t react, just stared down at the fluttering pages, Merlin gave a little grumble, then stepping onto Arthur’s thigh, reached over with one paw, and patted at the drawing. It was the same page again, the one where Wart turned into a fish.
At least, the page stopped flapping.
“I don’t believe in magic, Merlin. I can’t. Everything I’ve ever learned tells me that it’s just made-up stuff and nonsense. In the olden days, a lot of things would look like magic to the uninformed, but we’ve come a long way since then,” Arthur murmured. Looking down into Merlin’s golden eyes—he’d never noticed the little flecks of blue in the depths before, Arthur sighed. “I wish you could actually talk and tell me what’s going on. Is Morgana pulling something? Or was it just a bad batch of wine and I’m hallucinating?”
With that, Merlin stretched up, rubbing his whiskered face against Arthur’s chin, his paws on either side of Arthur’s neck as if hugging him.
Arthur couldn’t help it. He reached around and hugged Merlin back, gently as to not hurt him, but it felt so good to feel the warmth of fur and a little body soft against his chest.
Purring madly, Merlin let him.
“I love you, you little fiend. You’re the best cat in the whole world. Even when you drive me crazy with your wild running around and pushing things off the mantle. You are hopeless at a lot of things, but I love you anyway. Although I haven’t forgiven you for ruining my ships. They took me forever. But I guess that’s the price I have to pay to keep you, my model menace.”
Merlin struggled out of Arthur’s arms, then gave him a pointed glare before stalking off. It was almost as if Merlin understood him.
“Oh, don’t be like that.” Arthur gave a little laugh. “You know I love every irritating part of you.”
At least, the book pages hadn’t started flapping again.
-----------------------
Arthur didn’t go after Merlin. Sometimes they needed space and time to get over things, Merlin most of all. That cat could hold a grudge like nobody’s business.
But the flat was too quiet, and that was never good. With a great heave, putting aside his old TH White book—it hadn’t flapped a jot since Merlin had gone into the bedroom, Arthur went in search of his Lord-High muckamuck demon of a cat. He just hoped that Merlin hadn’t torn up his bed or got cat hairs all over his jackets. Although cat hairs on his best and most expensive suits were usually a given.
In the corner, where he’d dumped the remnants of his ship building—he hadn’t had the heart to throw out the mess yet, the bottles were all lined up, side by side, and inside each one, he could see a ship, battered and broken. Inside. Of sealed bottles.
Arthur sat down at that. Plonked down, really, his legs a little wobbly, as he stared at the impossibility.
Climbing back onto Arthur’s lap, Merlin purred, then draped himself over Arthur’s leg and settled in for a nap right then and there.
Arthur let him.
But he couldn’t help blinking down at his wayward cat and wondering if it wasn’t true. That there was magic afoot and Merlin at the heart of it.
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