Notes/Disclaimers:

So it occurred to me that I haven't written in a year. Ack!

But oh how I love this show, and these boys.

(Would that they were mine, but sadly I'm just borrowing.)

"I think there's a ghost in the castle."

Arthur scoffed. "Sure, Merlin." He didn't raise his head from the parchment he was looking over, much to Merlin's annoyance.

"I'm serious," Merlin muttered, and it was his oddly sharp tone that finally drew Arthur's eyes up to Merlin's surprisingly serious face.

Arthur couldn't help himself. He smirked. "No such thing."

Merlin frowned the frown of someone who had had this conversation (or, if Arthur had anything to say about it, argument) before. "Oh, unicorn curses, sure thing. Trolls and shields that come alive, no problem. Spirits! Evil spirits exist! But oh no, not ghosts?"

"You're listing magical beings, Merlin. Ghosts are supernatural beings, not magical beings," Arthur muttered, silently berating himself for entering into such an exchange. "Well," he added, "they're not beings at all, because they don't exist."

He looked back down at the parchment and adjusted himself to sit in a more relaxed position, hoping that Merlin would get the message and shut up. There were times and places for these ridiculous conversations, and if they had to happen, he'd prefer it when he wasn't busy with official documents that needed to be read and given his approval.

For once, Merlin apparently did get the message, because he stopped talking and focused on refilling the ink pots. Arthur felt strongly he should enjoy this reprieve, and should make a serious attempt at finishing his task. But he found himself rereading the same line without discerning any meaning from it, while something was ticking away in the back of his mind, building and building and threatening to spill out.

At last, he couldn't read that same damn meaningless sentence any more. As if of their own volition, his lips parted, and he found himself speaking.

"Why?" It was a very bitterly said word.

Merlin looked blankly at him. "Why what?"

Arthur sighed dramatically. "Why do you think there is a ghost in the castle?"

Merlin frowned contemplatively, and it occurred to Arthur that perhaps this was something Merlin was only just considering now. He voiced this idea.

"Um," Merlin replied, which Arthur knew had to mean 'yes'. He sighed dramatically again.

"Merlin," he growled, drawing out the vowels in his preferred way of showing annoyance. Merlin had the indecency to shoot him an entirely exasperated look, as if Arthur himself was the ridiculous party in this conversation.

"It's just, I just think there is," Merlin kept going. "Things keep going missing-"

"You're probably misplacing them."

"- and I hear things at night when I stay in the castle-"

"There are other servants working here, not to mention the rats that get around."

"- and, I don't know, I've been feeling...weird, lately. I think I have a knack for sensing these things."

Arthur stared at Merlin pointedly, allowing just a second before he spoke to let the stupidity of Merlin's words bounce back through that thick skull of his. "You have a knack. For noticing ghosts."

"Ghosts…and other things like that." Merlin was wavering, Arthur could hear it in his voice.

"What other things like that?"

Finally Arthur saw it, that change in Merlin's expression that he knew meant he had Merlin in a corner. The idiot had to know he was being ridiculous now. Arthur smiled an internal smile of gloating triumph and did a victory dance in his mind.

"Just…" Merlin sighed. "Things. I don't know. I'll get back to the ink pots then, shall I?" He bent his head low over the table and returned to his task.

Arthur couldn't help but watch. He didn't know why, but there was something about Merlin that got him fired up. His naivety, maybe, or his willingness to give back what Arthur threw at him. Verbally, and physically. Merlin didn't give up, even when Arthur had defeated him into shutting up. Arthur knew that, had learned that the hard way many times over.

So he was not the least bit surprised when he noticed later that evening, after Merlin had finished with the inkpots and the bedsheets and left to return to Gaius and dinner, that his copy of the key to the dungeons was no longer in its drawer.

Arthur lay in the dark, losing a debate.

His eyes were closed, but his mind was wide awake and at war with itself. One part of him wanted to just go to sleep already, but there was another, stronger part that couldn't shake the feeling that sleep was decidedly the wrong choice to make. Arthur knew Merlin. He didn't want to fall asleep and awake to find the castle on fire.

He was tired, though. Not so tired that it was an enormous effort to stay awake, but more in a preemptive sort of way. He was hunting tomorrow, and every second that he failed to sleep now was worth three more seconds of bleary weakness that he would have to fight tomorrow.

But he still did not allow himself to shut down.

The night passed slowly by him as he resolutely did not sleep.

And after what had seemed like eons but was surely only a few hours, from the end of the hall came a decided thud, a smattering of clinking noises, and a small "bugger".

Arthur's eyes snapped open, and he couldn't help but smile to himself in triumph. He pushed himself up with ease, practically leapt out of bed and strode across the room. Darkness clouded his eyes but did not deter him as he flung the door open and marched into the gloomy hall.

"Merlin." The name was not a question but a reprimand, sharp and to the point. He heard a sigh.

"Sire?"

"No, it's the ghost of eons past come to haunt you."

In the gloom a light flared, and Arthur wondered in passing how Merlin had managed to light a candle so quickly and effortlessly. He stared at his manservant, who had a foot wedged under a bench and who appeared to be picking cutlery off of himself.

"Now what on earth are you doing here?" Arthur knew the answer. He just wanted to hear Merlin admit it.

Merlin paused with a fork in his hand, looking guilty. "I…um…I left something. Earlier." He cast his eyes over the scene, and then back at Arthur, who was clearly not buying it.

Arthur raised an eyebrow. "You left something?"

Merlin knew that expression, knew that he had lost already. "No," he said quietly.

Arthur sighed, and folded his arms over his chest. "The ghost."

"Yes," Merlin muttered, although it was an unnecessary confirmation.

"You're an idiot, Merlin, and you're lucky I'm not putting you in the stocks. I'll not have you running around the castle at night disturbing everyone. Give it up, and go home. Now."

"No," Merlin replied with determination, pulling a spoon out of his boot. "I'm here now, aren't I? And so are you, so you might as well help me."

Arthur wanted so badly to put a stop to this insanity by flinging the first object he could find at the boy before him, preferably following it up with a round of shouting. But that would wake up the castle, and Arthur had some sensibility left. His hands stayed by his sides, and his voice instead came out in a strained hiss. "You can't talk to me like that, Merlin. You can't steal my key, sneak into my dungeons, and then order me around. That isn't how this goes."

Merlin glanced up at Arthur, holding a spoon triumphantly aloft as his foot finally came free of the bench. He looked ridiculously pleased with himself, and couldn't help grinning at Arthur.

In an instant, Arthur knew that he had lost.

Arthur strolled down the darkened hall. Up ahead he could hear the broken patter of Merlin's footsteps, which excitedly changed pace every 30 seconds or so as he weaved around objects and ducked into shadows. Arthur made no need to keep up with him, although Merlin kept halting anyway.

On the whole, Arthur already felt ridiculous, and didn't think he should do anything to add to the feeling.

Merlin, on the other hand, was not getting any of this. He turned as Arthur came walking up behind him, annoyed. His torch sputtered violently at the quick movement, painting the walls with sinister shadows that calmed and then melted into the flickering gloom.

"I don't suppose you could help out by, say, being a bit more quiet?"

It was Arthur's turn to glare. "Just because I'm here doesn't mean I've changed my mind. I don't believe in ghosts, Merlin, I just don't like the idea of you running rampant in the dark."

"Ah, well, if that's the reason-"

"That's the reason."

"Just so we're clear."

Arthur crossed his arms. "While we're hovering around the subject of clarity, would you mind letting me in on what in God's name we're looking for?"

"A ghost."

Arthur felt his patience evaporating. "I know that, Merlin."

"Oh. Well, I don't exatly know. I've never seen a ghost."

"Funny, that."

"We can only know when we see one I guess."

Merlin spun around, intent on striding off purposefully.

And then he walked into a suit of armor.

Within seconds, Merlin was sprawled on the ground, metal clanging around him. Arthur winced at the sound. He wondered where the nearest servants were sleeping, and hoped it wasn't too close to have heard the sudden racket. Explaining what was going on to anyone would be a nightmare of embarrassment.

"Excellent work, you nailed him," he muttered caustically, staring at the figure strewn at his feet. "I think the imminent ghost threat has been neutralized."

Merlin said nothing in response, and Arthur frowned. He picked up the torch that Merlin had dropped and was concerned to see that Merlin was apparently out cold.

He crouched down and prodded the boy, whose eyes flickered.

"Arthur," he muttered. "My head. Warm. I think I fell in honey."

Arthur sighed. He was annoyed with Merlin for playing dead. He was more annoyed at himself, for the relief that had flooded through him when the boy spoke. Silly. "Why would there be honey down here, idiot? You hit your head, you're confused. Or maybe it's ghost honey?"

Merlin laughed weakly, and immediately his face contorted with pain.

"Oh for Christ's sake, there better not be something wrong with you Merlin. Sit up," Arthur instructed with not a little exasperation. There was an annoyingly real concern growing in his mind, and he hoped Merlin couldn't tell.

"Can't," Merlin muttered.

"Would you just-" Arthur made to grab his shoulder, and as his torch swung down to the ground the light glinted off a growing dark streak on Merlin's temple. Alarm pulsed through Arthur's body, and his heart rate quickened as he saw the streak gleam red in the glow of the flickering torch.

"You're bleeding," he said dumbly. Hunting non-existent ghosts through the depths of the castle did not seem like an inherently dangerous situation to him, and he was startled that of all the curses, death threats and battles with Merlin had stumbled his way through, somehow keeping out of harm's way, a suit of armor in the dark was what had bested him.

"Oh," muttered Merlin. "Not honey then."

"You're going to pass out on me, aren't you?"

Arthur was not surprised when the only response he received was silence.

Merlin didn't want to open his eyes. He didn't even want to be awake. Something hurt, and he was fairly certain it was him.

Head. He'd hit his head. That was it.

Cautiously, he opened one eye, and then the other. More pain. And a room that he thought he recognised.

He found, when he managed to tilt his head slightly without making it erupt into static and pain, that he was not alone.

There was a prince sitting by his bed who had apparently not noticed his consciousness. He looked much like someone who was desperately trying to hold on to their every capability of sitting with perfect posture and poise while their limbs were screaming to just go with gravity. "Princes don't slump," he had once told Merlin rather caustically, in response to yet another example of Merlin's naiveté. Not in front of people, or apparently, ever.

It was then that Arthur glanced over at him to find a pair of blue eyes staring back.

"You're awake," the blonde said in a frustratingly neutral tone, and yawned.

"Yeah," Merlin replied with a touch of regret. His head was throbbing rather unpleasantly, making it hard for him to think cohesively.

He took in his surrounds.

"I'm in your chamber?"

Arthur nodded, but Merlin was still looking confused, so Arthur added, "In my bed."

Merlin managed to struggle into a sitting position. Coherent thought or not, there was definitely something odd to do with Arthur that he couldn't quite put his finger on.

Arthur looked fine, sounded fine. He hadn't said anything unusual, or really much at all.

And yet, Arthur was looking at him. No, that wasn't right.

Arthur was looking at him.

He decided to ignore that for the time being, and instead raised a hand to touch the cloth bandages that ran around his head. "What time is it?"

Arthur snorted. "It's still dark out, although looking more and more grey with every second. I expect it will be light soon." He yawned again. "You've kept me awake for the entire night, Merlin. And you've stolen my bed. I'm not happy."

"Fine," Merlin muttered. "I'll vacate it then, shall I?"

He pushed back the covers and slumped-rolled out of the bed, landing in an unceremonious heap on the ground.

"Oh, would you just-" Arthur stood up and grabbed Merlin's arm. "You're being an idiot, Merlin, as usual. Not many people can sustain such a wound from an inert object coupled with the ground, but you've managed it. I may be exhausted because of your ridiculous ghost hunt and your ridiculous injury, but I'd also prefer you alive rather than the alternative. Otherwise I'll have to find someone new to wash sheets you've so kindly bled on."

As Arthur pulled him to his feet, a wave of dizziness hit Merlin. He was annoyed that someone so apparently concerned with maintaining his usefulness would pull him around so forcefully. He half expected Arthur to push him back into the bed, but Arthur just stood there with his hand fixed firmly on Merlin's wrist, glaring.

As Merlin met his gaze, he noticed that while Arthur's face was fixed with irritation, it didn't reach his eyes. Instead, Merlin recognised that same curious look from before, and for some reason he felt a new wave of dizzy confusion that had nothing to do with his head.

And then Arthur stepped forward and, still glaring furiously, pulled Merlin in towards him. Their lips met with force.

Merlin's eyes opened in surprise, and then slammed shut as something gave way and a wealth of feeling slammed into him.

Yes, that was it, that buzzing in his stomach and pressure in his chest. He had been so sure before of what that meant...

"So," Merlin muttered as he drew away, resolutely staring at the ground as he tried to catch his breath. "As it transpires, my reasons for believing there to be a ghost in the castle have been thoroughly mistaken."

Arthur blinked, bemused. "Merlin, you are without a doubt the most exasperating person I have ever met."

"I'm exasperating? You yelled at me and then, and then you kissed me!"

"You kissed me back."

"I'm not saying I'm objecting, I'm just saying you're an incredibly confusing person to be around!"

Arthur smirked and grabbed Merlin's shirt.

Their steps were clumsily in unison as they moved backwards.

Merlin could feel his heart beating so hard it threatened to break from his chest, and he could no longer think beyond Arthur's blue eyes and smile and lips that brushed at his with such sudden restraint that Merlin couldn't bare it. One hand came up, sliding up the nape of Arthur's neck, pulling him in, crushing their lips together.

There was a dull thud as they met the wall.

At first it barely registered.

And then Merlin noticed the pain.

Arthur pulled back, breathing heavily and staring at something in the vicinity of Merlin's right ear.

"Merlin, you're bleeding again."

Merlin put his fingers to his jaw, and pulled them back to find them stained brownish-red. "Ah. I am, aren't I."

He looked up at the very concerned-looking Arthur and felt the insane urge to giggle. He tried to push it down, but it came up anyway, except not as anything quite so coherent. Just a sort of guffaw-choking noise and a mile-wide grin.

"Stop laughing Merlin. I think I broke you," Arthur muttered, frustrated. He tried to grab a hold of Merlin's head to inspect the now re-opened wound, but Merlin was now shaking with silent, woozy laughter. "Oh, come on Merlin."

They slid to the floor, and Arthur reached for a shirt he had hung over a nearby chair.

"Your concern is touching," Merlin said lightly, though he winced as Arthur pressed the acquired shirt to his temple.

"Ungrateful," muttered Arthur, but there was no edge to his words. He surveyed his patient with a look of uncommon and unrestrained affection. "You look like a ghost."

"Success," murmured Merlin, and smiled.