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Merlin and Arthur's relationship was still mostly fresh, though the habit of hiding it in plain sight was becoming a bit of a game to both of them. Uther had dismissed it, questing for noblewoman after princess, trying to get Arthur married off, and Arthur had said no repeatedly. And while Uther forbade Arthur's relationship with Merlin in any official capacity, Arthur knew that Merlin was it; the one. But until the day Uther no longer ruled and Arthur could take Merlin as his consort, their outer appearance didn't change. Merlin was still technically Arthur's servant, though Arthur brought others on for the 'dirty work' like mucking out the stables, as Merlin kept his hands clean inside.
Still, on festival nights like the one they were currently celebrating, Merlin went back to his official capacity to stand at Arthur's side.

Arthur ignored the visiting noblewoman at his side as she fawned over him, and tried not to laugh as he caught Merlin rolling his eyes yet again. "Merlin," he called much louder than he intended as he pushed his goblet forward.

"More wine, sire?" Merlin asked, yelping on the last syllable as Arthur's hand slipped to Merlin's backside and gave it a healthy pinch.

A shy smile plastered itself on Arthur's face, the skin at his eyes crinkled up in amusement. He reached out and took a sip of wine, then nodded to the woman next to him. "One moment, if I may," he said, then nodded. He turned to Merlin and gestured for Merlin to lean in close, for only Merlin to hear. "I will give you two horses, and tell you about the time I caught Gwaine and Percival in the stables."

Merlin twitched slightly at Arthur's side, then leaned his lips close. Arthur reveled in the warm breath that cascaded down his neck with every word. "Not on your father's life," he whispered, then stood up straight, his eyes darting down as he held back a smile. Merlin knew Arthur was not enjoying the banquet mostly because of the visiting noblewoman his father had insisted sit next to him; Arthur had complained about it in bed that morning. And clearly, Merlin liked to watch Arthur suffer.

With a forceful 'a-hem,' Arthur swatted Merlin's side.

"Sire?" Merlin dared to look innocent, a simple smile on his face.

Arthur gestured again for Merlin to lean down. But when he didn't, Arthur grabbed his side and pulled him, his lips inches away from Merlin's ridiculously adorable ear. But instead of whispering something, Arthur leaned closer and dragged his tongue along the shell of Merlin's ear as he directed a warm stream of air against Merlin's ear and cheek.

This accomplished two things. First, it startled Merlin, which, 'Good,' Arthur thought. But second, it was so startling that Merlin dropped the pitcher of wine he held, the metal bouncing first off the table, then careened around the stone floor. With each bounce, the wine flowed indiscriminately, painting whoever was in its path. Arthur and the woman and his side were mostly hit, though Percival and Lancelot both were left dripping.

The room went silent, broken only when Gwaine's laughter sang to the rafters. It was cut short when Percival ripped the wet part of his cloak and flung it at Gwaine's face. The garment was heavy enough to catch Gwaine off guard, and he fell to the floor.

"Right," Arthur said as he stood. He grabbed Merlin by the elbow. "If you would excuse me," he said, then bowed out of the room, pulling Merlin with him.

"Wait, no," Merlin replied. "I have to-"

"You'll draw us a bath, and then I'm taking you to bed," Arthur said just loud enough for Merlin to hear.

Merlin practically beat him back to his chambers.