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Merlin - Chicken Soup for the Servant's Soul
System was down this morning at work, so I was able to get to the final edit after beta. Whoo hoo! Er, still totally doing NaNoWriMo, I swear!
Title: Chicken Soup for the Servant’s Soul
Genre: Gen/Friendship
Rating: PG
Length: 2,140 words
Spoilers: None, really
Synopsis: Merlin is sick. Arthur is determined to help make him better.
Author’s Notes: This may or may not have been brought on by my own currently less than exemplary health.
Disclaimer: I do not own this particular interpretation of the myths and am making no profit from this.
~~~~~~~~~~
Merlin looked like crap, utter and complete crap, Arthur mused from the doorway to the hovel his servant called a room. Actually, he corrected, he may have seen crap that looked better than Merlin looked at this exact moment, and he cheerfully told him as much.
“Thank you ever so much, sire,” Merlin groaned from his bed. He turned his head to the side and sneezed and, instead of doing the sensible thing like grabbing a handkerchief, grabbed onto his head as if someone had just hit him about it. Given the way the already pale young man turned nearly translucent, Arthur did not doubt it felt that way. Merlin, of course, punctuated the action with a pitiful, “Ow.”
“That looked astonishingly painful,” Arthur remarked as he wandered further into the room.
“Felt it, too,” Merlin agreed with another moan. His eyes started to drift shut, but he blinked them open to ask, “May I ask what you are doing here, sire?”
Arthur did not wish to say that he may have, possibly, been concerned for his friend. He also did not wish to say that this concern may have been brought on by a possible feeling of responsibility for his current state. Really, the river had not been that cold as the ice had just formed across it and, anyway, Arthur himself had recovered fully in the span of two days time, so what was keeping Merlin from doing the same? Well, other than the fact that he may have spent more time in the icy water after pulling Arthur to shore, then saving their gear, then stayed in his own thin soaked clothing while he got a fire going to warm Arthur by and only stripped out of said clothing when one of the knights his father sent searching for them chided him and offered him a set of thick wool blankets and some spare trousers to wrap himself in.
Arthur did not wish to say any of this, so instead he put on his most obnoxious smile and said, “I’m here to keep you company!”
Merlin responded by pulling the blankets over his head and offering a muffled, “I beg of you, sire, please leave.”
Arthur put on his best pout, the one that usually got him anything he wanted from a taste of the latest pie in the kitchens to a truly excellent pure bred charger. Realising that said pout did not work as well when one could not see it, he tugged the corner of the blankets down enough to reveal hazy blue eyes. “But I brought you tea,” he tried, offering out the still steaming mug. “Gaius says you should drink it to make yourself better.”
“All I have been doing for the past two days is drinking tea and broth and trying to rest,” Merlin grumbled, but obligingly scooted up against the pillows to take the offered gift. He took a tentative sip and raised his eyebrows. “This tastes better than what Gaius has been giving me, what did you do?”
“I added honey,” Arthur replied, which was at least partially true. He talked one of the kitchen maids into telling him where the dwindling supply was stashed by both saying it made him feel better and using the pout. He then tried to remember how much his old nanny used to add to make things palatable, and added a bit more to be on the safe side.
“Thank you,” Merlin grudgingly told him, continuing to sip at the mixture. He was soon wracked by a coughing fit but had thankfully drank enough that only a tiny bit sloshed over the side with his movements.
Arthur took the cup away anyway, and placed it on the small table next to the bed where it would be within reach but out of danger. “You should rest,” he declared.
“That’s what I was trying to do,” Merlin protested, sliding back down beneath the covers. His eyes grew wide when Arthur pulled a chair over to the side of the bed and sat down. “What are you doing?” he asked in what could have easily been construed as horror.
“Staying to make sure you rest,” Arthur answered as if it were obvious. Really, it should have been.
“Because it is so restful to be stared at,” Merlin countered. “Don’t you have duties to attend to? Princely things that only you can do and that do not involve sitting and keeping your servant awake?”
Arthur brushed it off with a wave of his hand. “Apparently I am to be seen as still recuperating and all duties have been waived for the near future.” He had over-protective physicians and fathers to thank for that one. He felt fine; and if he happened to tire a bit more easily than usual, that was no one’s business but his own.
Merlin groaned, again, and pulled the blankets back up to his ears. Arthur wasn’t sure why as he made certain not to hit him when he propped his feet up on the bed. Soon enough though, the ragged breathing grew more regular and when it was joined by a soft snuffling sound, Arthur was fairly certain than Merlin had fallen asleep. He stayed anyway, just to make sure.
Gaius checked in a short time later, and he offered a thumbs up to let him know everything was fine. Gaius offered a doubting eyebrow in return, which was a little insulting, but eventually relented after he checked for himself. He offered Arthur some tea, which he declined as the honey pot was still back in his room, and a blanket, which he also declined, but this was for dignity’s sake. After a bit, he finally left them both alone and Arthur mused on just how boring taking care of a sick person could be, right before he started to drift off.
He awoke with a start to the baying of an extremely annoying and off-key rooster. He brushed off the blanket that had been draped over him disdainfully and glared at the tiny window, only to be met with confusion. It was not morning and he had not slept through the day. The slant of the sun told him it was just past midday and nearly time for the meal. So what was the insane animal making a racket about?
Merlin apparently found the whole thing old hat as he simply pulled his pillow over his head and muttered something about it being time for lunch.
“That thing goes off every day?” Arthur asked, aghast. His own room was on the far side of the castle from here and, mixed with the thick stone walls and heavy velvet draperies, he was lucky to realise there was even an outside on some days.
Merlin removed his pillow and shook his tousled head. “Just this past week,” he corrected in a truly gravelly voice. “One of the merchants brought it and the damned thing goes off about four times a day, every day, with the exception of actually crying at dawn. The monster supposedly has a panache for sleeping in.”
The pillow was back and that was apparently that as far as Merlin was concerned. True to his earlier prediction, Gaius shortly appeared with two lidded bowls and set one on the small table and offered the other to Arthur. The prince lifted the top to inhale a thick and hearty stew, in contrast to the simple broth Merlin was sighing over.
“Do you want some?” he asked impulsively, offering out his spoon.
Merlin shook his head. “Gaius said nothing but broth right now, and maybe some simple soups by tomorrow,” he explained.
Arthur made a face, but dug in, savouring the rich tastes and trying really hard not to feel guilty about the wayward looks Merlin kept shooting in his direction. When they were finished and Gaius was out making his rounds, Arthur snuck off to his room and returned with the tiny pot of honey. “For your teas,” he shrugged, looking for a place to hide it from nosey physicians. He opened one cupboard to find an oddly wrapped book and Merlin looking frantic, and quickly closed it figuring that no, one did not store foodstuffs on top of learning materials, but really, Merlin was over-reacting with his melodramatics.
He ended up placing it in the clothing cupboard, moving aside a pitiful amount of tunics and trousers to make certain he did not spill on top of them. If he made a mental note that it was time for a gift of more and higher quality wear, well, that was his own business.
Merlin drifted off again between a snivel and a cough, and Arthur found himself with nothing to do. Again. He was not about to sit back down and fall asleep again, falling right into Gaius’ hands. Instead, he grabbed one of the herbal remedies books, not the one Merlin was so protective about, and started to skim through it figuring it might come in handy some day should he be viciously attacked in an herb garden.
He was, of course, awoken some time later when the damned rooster went off again.
He glared at the window, and then at the way Merlin hid his head again, only to surface enough to glare back at Arthur and demand what he was still doing there. Not having an answer, he stormed out.
He came back in time for supper and snuck Merlin in a mug of cider, for which he was remarkably grateful. Then again, living on broth and tea might do that to a man. Arthur encouraged him to drink it quickly before Gaius returned and took it away, something he later regretted as apparently when one has near zero tolerance for alcohol, said tolerance decreases even further when one has been on nothing but a liquid diet for nearly three days.
Merlin was what Arthur could only describe as giggly for the short period of time he was conscious before he passed out entirely, half-finished mugs of broth and tea cooling on the bedside table. Arthur would have felt bad about the whole thing, but when the damnable bird went off and made him spill his own of cider down the front of his tunic, Merlin simply smacked his lips and rolled to the side, breathing far easier than he had been just that morning.
It was easy enough to sit and watch him for a bit, just to make sure he was truly sleeping and, possibly, truly breathing, so Arthur sipped at his remaining cider and did just that. When he found he had nothing left to stall with, he tucked the blankets around the bony shoulders and cleared the detritus of the evening’s meal. He left the mug of tea and a single candle burning beside it, and silently wished his friend both pleasant dreams and pleasant health.
He breakfasted with his father the following morning in an attempt to show him that he was well and ready for all the tasks that faced him. His father just put on one of his rare paternal looks and told him there was nothing pressing for the day, but perhaps he could sit in with the court audiences on the morrow. It was not training and it was not rigorous, but he took what he could and agreed.
He found Merlin still sound asleep when he brought in his midday meal, the clattering of bowls and mugs finally waking him from his slumber. He was a mess of wild hair and rosy cheeks, but his breathing no longer sounded like the old steward’s after he tried to chase Arthur though the castle, so all in all things looked well. He supposed a solid span of sleep truly was the best medicine and perhaps Gaius had not been lying all these years.
Merlin was still rubbing his eyes and pushing himself up in bed, looking to the window, to the food, to Arthur and back again in confusion. “How did I manage that? I didn’t drink that much last night,” he insisted around a yawn.
“No tolerance at all,” Arthur chided, taking his place in the chair beside the bed and gesturing for Merlin to dig in.
Merlin lifted the lid to his soup and nearly dropped it as he gazed into the bowl. He looked back over to Arthur with wide eyes. “You didn’t...” he protested.
“I’m sure I don’t know what you mean,” Arthur said haughtily. He lifted the lid to his own bowl and dug in with gusto. He paused with a spoon nearly overflowing with meat and vegetables lifted halfway to his lips and said thoughtfully, “You know, they say that chicken soup is good for what ails you.”
Merlin’s resulting laughter was proof enough for him.
~~~~~~~~~~
Feedback is always welcomed.
Title: Chicken Soup for the Servant’s Soul
Genre: Gen/Friendship
Rating: PG
Length: 2,140 words
Spoilers: None, really
Synopsis: Merlin is sick. Arthur is determined to help make him better.
Author’s Notes: This may or may not have been brought on by my own currently less than exemplary health.
Disclaimer: I do not own this particular interpretation of the myths and am making no profit from this.
~~~~~~~~~~
Merlin looked like crap, utter and complete crap, Arthur mused from the doorway to the hovel his servant called a room. Actually, he corrected, he may have seen crap that looked better than Merlin looked at this exact moment, and he cheerfully told him as much.
“Thank you ever so much, sire,” Merlin groaned from his bed. He turned his head to the side and sneezed and, instead of doing the sensible thing like grabbing a handkerchief, grabbed onto his head as if someone had just hit him about it. Given the way the already pale young man turned nearly translucent, Arthur did not doubt it felt that way. Merlin, of course, punctuated the action with a pitiful, “Ow.”
“That looked astonishingly painful,” Arthur remarked as he wandered further into the room.
“Felt it, too,” Merlin agreed with another moan. His eyes started to drift shut, but he blinked them open to ask, “May I ask what you are doing here, sire?”
Arthur did not wish to say that he may have, possibly, been concerned for his friend. He also did not wish to say that this concern may have been brought on by a possible feeling of responsibility for his current state. Really, the river had not been that cold as the ice had just formed across it and, anyway, Arthur himself had recovered fully in the span of two days time, so what was keeping Merlin from doing the same? Well, other than the fact that he may have spent more time in the icy water after pulling Arthur to shore, then saving their gear, then stayed in his own thin soaked clothing while he got a fire going to warm Arthur by and only stripped out of said clothing when one of the knights his father sent searching for them chided him and offered him a set of thick wool blankets and some spare trousers to wrap himself in.
Arthur did not wish to say any of this, so instead he put on his most obnoxious smile and said, “I’m here to keep you company!”
Merlin responded by pulling the blankets over his head and offering a muffled, “I beg of you, sire, please leave.”
Arthur put on his best pout, the one that usually got him anything he wanted from a taste of the latest pie in the kitchens to a truly excellent pure bred charger. Realising that said pout did not work as well when one could not see it, he tugged the corner of the blankets down enough to reveal hazy blue eyes. “But I brought you tea,” he tried, offering out the still steaming mug. “Gaius says you should drink it to make yourself better.”
“All I have been doing for the past two days is drinking tea and broth and trying to rest,” Merlin grumbled, but obligingly scooted up against the pillows to take the offered gift. He took a tentative sip and raised his eyebrows. “This tastes better than what Gaius has been giving me, what did you do?”
“I added honey,” Arthur replied, which was at least partially true. He talked one of the kitchen maids into telling him where the dwindling supply was stashed by both saying it made him feel better and using the pout. He then tried to remember how much his old nanny used to add to make things palatable, and added a bit more to be on the safe side.
“Thank you,” Merlin grudgingly told him, continuing to sip at the mixture. He was soon wracked by a coughing fit but had thankfully drank enough that only a tiny bit sloshed over the side with his movements.
Arthur took the cup away anyway, and placed it on the small table next to the bed where it would be within reach but out of danger. “You should rest,” he declared.
“That’s what I was trying to do,” Merlin protested, sliding back down beneath the covers. His eyes grew wide when Arthur pulled a chair over to the side of the bed and sat down. “What are you doing?” he asked in what could have easily been construed as horror.
“Staying to make sure you rest,” Arthur answered as if it were obvious. Really, it should have been.
“Because it is so restful to be stared at,” Merlin countered. “Don’t you have duties to attend to? Princely things that only you can do and that do not involve sitting and keeping your servant awake?”
Arthur brushed it off with a wave of his hand. “Apparently I am to be seen as still recuperating and all duties have been waived for the near future.” He had over-protective physicians and fathers to thank for that one. He felt fine; and if he happened to tire a bit more easily than usual, that was no one’s business but his own.
Merlin groaned, again, and pulled the blankets back up to his ears. Arthur wasn’t sure why as he made certain not to hit him when he propped his feet up on the bed. Soon enough though, the ragged breathing grew more regular and when it was joined by a soft snuffling sound, Arthur was fairly certain than Merlin had fallen asleep. He stayed anyway, just to make sure.
Gaius checked in a short time later, and he offered a thumbs up to let him know everything was fine. Gaius offered a doubting eyebrow in return, which was a little insulting, but eventually relented after he checked for himself. He offered Arthur some tea, which he declined as the honey pot was still back in his room, and a blanket, which he also declined, but this was for dignity’s sake. After a bit, he finally left them both alone and Arthur mused on just how boring taking care of a sick person could be, right before he started to drift off.
He awoke with a start to the baying of an extremely annoying and off-key rooster. He brushed off the blanket that had been draped over him disdainfully and glared at the tiny window, only to be met with confusion. It was not morning and he had not slept through the day. The slant of the sun told him it was just past midday and nearly time for the meal. So what was the insane animal making a racket about?
Merlin apparently found the whole thing old hat as he simply pulled his pillow over his head and muttered something about it being time for lunch.
“That thing goes off every day?” Arthur asked, aghast. His own room was on the far side of the castle from here and, mixed with the thick stone walls and heavy velvet draperies, he was lucky to realise there was even an outside on some days.
Merlin removed his pillow and shook his tousled head. “Just this past week,” he corrected in a truly gravelly voice. “One of the merchants brought it and the damned thing goes off about four times a day, every day, with the exception of actually crying at dawn. The monster supposedly has a panache for sleeping in.”
The pillow was back and that was apparently that as far as Merlin was concerned. True to his earlier prediction, Gaius shortly appeared with two lidded bowls and set one on the small table and offered the other to Arthur. The prince lifted the top to inhale a thick and hearty stew, in contrast to the simple broth Merlin was sighing over.
“Do you want some?” he asked impulsively, offering out his spoon.
Merlin shook his head. “Gaius said nothing but broth right now, and maybe some simple soups by tomorrow,” he explained.
Arthur made a face, but dug in, savouring the rich tastes and trying really hard not to feel guilty about the wayward looks Merlin kept shooting in his direction. When they were finished and Gaius was out making his rounds, Arthur snuck off to his room and returned with the tiny pot of honey. “For your teas,” he shrugged, looking for a place to hide it from nosey physicians. He opened one cupboard to find an oddly wrapped book and Merlin looking frantic, and quickly closed it figuring that no, one did not store foodstuffs on top of learning materials, but really, Merlin was over-reacting with his melodramatics.
He ended up placing it in the clothing cupboard, moving aside a pitiful amount of tunics and trousers to make certain he did not spill on top of them. If he made a mental note that it was time for a gift of more and higher quality wear, well, that was his own business.
Merlin drifted off again between a snivel and a cough, and Arthur found himself with nothing to do. Again. He was not about to sit back down and fall asleep again, falling right into Gaius’ hands. Instead, he grabbed one of the herbal remedies books, not the one Merlin was so protective about, and started to skim through it figuring it might come in handy some day should he be viciously attacked in an herb garden.
He was, of course, awoken some time later when the damned rooster went off again.
He glared at the window, and then at the way Merlin hid his head again, only to surface enough to glare back at Arthur and demand what he was still doing there. Not having an answer, he stormed out.
He came back in time for supper and snuck Merlin in a mug of cider, for which he was remarkably grateful. Then again, living on broth and tea might do that to a man. Arthur encouraged him to drink it quickly before Gaius returned and took it away, something he later regretted as apparently when one has near zero tolerance for alcohol, said tolerance decreases even further when one has been on nothing but a liquid diet for nearly three days.
Merlin was what Arthur could only describe as giggly for the short period of time he was conscious before he passed out entirely, half-finished mugs of broth and tea cooling on the bedside table. Arthur would have felt bad about the whole thing, but when the damnable bird went off and made him spill his own of cider down the front of his tunic, Merlin simply smacked his lips and rolled to the side, breathing far easier than he had been just that morning.
It was easy enough to sit and watch him for a bit, just to make sure he was truly sleeping and, possibly, truly breathing, so Arthur sipped at his remaining cider and did just that. When he found he had nothing left to stall with, he tucked the blankets around the bony shoulders and cleared the detritus of the evening’s meal. He left the mug of tea and a single candle burning beside it, and silently wished his friend both pleasant dreams and pleasant health.
He breakfasted with his father the following morning in an attempt to show him that he was well and ready for all the tasks that faced him. His father just put on one of his rare paternal looks and told him there was nothing pressing for the day, but perhaps he could sit in with the court audiences on the morrow. It was not training and it was not rigorous, but he took what he could and agreed.
He found Merlin still sound asleep when he brought in his midday meal, the clattering of bowls and mugs finally waking him from his slumber. He was a mess of wild hair and rosy cheeks, but his breathing no longer sounded like the old steward’s after he tried to chase Arthur though the castle, so all in all things looked well. He supposed a solid span of sleep truly was the best medicine and perhaps Gaius had not been lying all these years.
Merlin was still rubbing his eyes and pushing himself up in bed, looking to the window, to the food, to Arthur and back again in confusion. “How did I manage that? I didn’t drink that much last night,” he insisted around a yawn.
“No tolerance at all,” Arthur chided, taking his place in the chair beside the bed and gesturing for Merlin to dig in.
Merlin lifted the lid to his soup and nearly dropped it as he gazed into the bowl. He looked back over to Arthur with wide eyes. “You didn’t...” he protested.
“I’m sure I don’t know what you mean,” Arthur said haughtily. He lifted the lid to his own bowl and dug in with gusto. He paused with a spoon nearly overflowing with meat and vegetables lifted halfway to his lips and said thoughtfully, “You know, they say that chicken soup is good for what ails you.”
Merlin’s resulting laughter was proof enough for him.
~~~~~~~~~~
Feedback is always welcomed.
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Merlin's exasperation! His tousled head! Arthur's caring obnoxiousness! Gaius' doubting eyebrows!
\o/
Oh, so sorry you're still not better. *sends more healing vibes*
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Very happy you enjoyed, ma'am! Thank you kindly!
For anyone out there who's wondering, strep plus sinus infection plus what appears to be the cold Youngest had really and truly sucks when all put together and I highly recommend against the combo unless you like high amounts of sleep and low amounts of productivity. At least my throat feels better and I feel tons better than earlier this week when this was first written. Thanks for the healing vibes!
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Thank you so much for sharing this! :D
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I had my very own
pratArthur bringing me food and such this week, but she didn't sit with me. Damn germ theory. But this was adorable and completely hit the spot, especially the little details like the rescue, Merlin panicking over the book, and the faulty rooster.Laughter is good for us, too, so thank you!
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