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[pratentious]

[This time, the recording starts with a long, drawn out sigh. Then, surprisingly, it's still Merlin's voice that rattles off the voicemail in tones of long-suffering.]

Hello, you've reached King Arthur Pr--Pendragon. He isn't here to answer your call because he's incredibly important and busy. If you leave a message here with me, I'll make sure he gets it because I am a good servant--and friend-- [he adds the last bit in a rush, accompanied with a thwap!, an 'ow!' and an 'I heard that,' then forces the rest of the words out through gritted teeth] and will do anything my master asks of me.

[A couple seconds pass, then Merlin speaks again, this time sounding a bit further away, like he isn't speaking into the bracelet anymore.] There, happy now? If you ask me, the other one is still better-- Shut up, Merlin. It's time to do yours next. Wait, what --

[ click! ]

Comments

don't mind my rambling, I just like the idea of them domestically cleaning around each other ...

[pratentious]

[ Arthur's sitting on his bed polishing Excalibur, his hunting blades already cleaned and sheathed in neat rows across the sheets ( for all that he bullies Merlin into it more often than not, there is something soothing and almost cathartic about the task that Arthur has privately taken joy in since he was a boy; mindlessly falling into it alongside Merlin moving about the room as he pretends to clean is nearly rote by now ). The sound of Merlin's voice only earns a noncommittal hum from the King until he hears paper being flipped. His head snaps up - ]

What the Hell are you doing in -

[ Oh. It's just the book. There are - other things - in that very same drawer that don't need found, thank you very much. Arthur scowls and sets Excalibur down on his bed, joining Merlin at his desk to shut the drawer with his hip and fold his arms across his chest.

Smooth as fucking butter. ]

It was a gift. [ A beat; his lips tighten, and his voice comes quieter. ] From Conan.

wow such domestic very husbands wow

[dragonspeak]

[Smooth to Arthur, maybe. The attempt at keeping him out of the drawer is more than a little obvious to Merlin, and it's only the mention of Conan that keeps him from asking some more.

Merlin stops mid-turn and stares down at the book in a new light.]

Conan gave this to you? [He closes it and flips it back to the cover.] Why would he give you something like this?

[pratentious]

[ He rolls his eyes with a sigh. ]

I don't know, can any of us claim to know why Conan did anything? Perhaps he simply grew tired of answering inane questions about batteries.

[ The poor boy was practically their encyclopaedia. ]