A/N: I'm sick. So I made the boys sick. Don't you just love my logic? :) This is the one with sick!Arthur - sick!Merlin can be found as "Doctors Can Make Good Patients...In Theory" on my profile.
Merlin rolled his eyes as Arthur yelled out for him again, and crossed his arms as he stood by the prince's bed.
"Why the hell did it take you so long?" Arthur asked from where his head was buried under the pillow. His voice was muffled, but the whining wasn't.
"It took me a few seconds, and I was in the antechamber," Merlin said. "What do you need this time?"
"Another kerchief, damnit!"
Merlin rolled his eyes, and summoned a clean kerchief from the pile on the table, clutching it in his hand as he yanked the blankets back, revealing Arthur in his shift - for once - and curling up even tighter as the layers of warmth were pulled away.
"Merlin!" he whined, groping for the blankets.
Merlin lifted up the pillow and held out the kerchief. Glaring at Merlin, Arthur snatched it and blew his nose on it, wiping his face and saying, "You're a wretched servant, you know that?"
"Yes, you only mention it about a hundred times a day," Merlin said dryly, taking the kerchief and banishing it back to the table.
He looked at the three-quarters-finished bowl of chicken soup on the bedside table, and sighed. "You're supposed to have all the soup, Arthur, it's good for you."
Arthur glared, but when Merlin returned it with a stern look, he sighed and sat up enough to take the bowl in his hands and finish up the rest.
As Merlin continued to spell his chores to completion, he sat on the edge of the bed and rested a hand on Arthur's knee as he slowly worked his way through the soup. "I know you hate being sick, but this probably won't even last a full week, so just bear through it, all right?"
Arthur sighed mournfully and drained the last of the soup from the bowl.
"Can't you just cure me with magic?" Arthur demanded, looking up with woeful eyes and that stupid pout of his as Merlin magicked the bowl back over to the main table.
Steeling himself tremendously - one needed this skill when faced with a pout like that - he said, "No. I'm more likely to harm you than help. Besides, in the long run, it's good for you to be sick. It makes your body stronger."
Arthur glared. "I'm weak, damnit!"
"For now," Merlin said. "However, once you get better-"
"Shut up," Arthur growled. "I don't want to hear this again."
Merlin rolled his eyes as Arthur shoved his head back under his pillow.
A flash of golden eyes had the last of the vials of medicine sorted for Arthur to take later, and shedding his jacket and boots, Merlin climbed into the bed beside Arthur, propping himself up on another pillow against the headboard and crossing his legs.
Arthur pulling his head out from beneath the pillow and rolled over to settle his head into Merlin's lap, curling a hand loosely around Merlin's ankle and grumbling, "You make a terrible pillow, too - you're too skinny."
"That's why I'm a servant, not a pillow," Merlin said, dryly.
Arthur huffed and shifted one more time to get comfortable, before shutting his eyes and drifting off to sleep to the feeling of Merlin stroking his fingers through his hair.
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