They walk in silence for a while, and Arthur watches out of the corner of his eye as Merlin eats his cake, eventually licking his fingers clean. It leaves something humming in the centre of his chest, and he’s almost grateful when Merlin follows it up by nearly spilling his wine as he trips.
It’s easy, then, to sling his arm around Merlin’s shoulders with a smirk. To say, “Have to make sure that you don’t decapitate yourself, have I?” and to drink up Merlin’s exasperated laughter as if he’s never going to hear it again.
