#wlizards

Arthur jumped back up on the counter and batted at Merlin’s hand.

“I know, alright? But I’m too lazy to make anything.” Merlin said, putting Arthur on the floor once again.

Arthur usually made dinner. (When Merlin had met Arthur in Sixth Form, this would have been laughable. But after Uther disowned Arthur and he had to make his way in the world, Arthur had found that he rather liked food and cooking. So he dropped his business courses and enrolled in a culinary school, all while Merlin had been by his side, working on his Magical Theory degree.)

Arthur decided that if he couldn’t bother Merlin on the counter, then he would have to settle for rubbing up against his leg, stroking his cheeks against Merlin’s calves and ankles.

“Oh my god, even in cat-form you are territorial.” Merlin muttered, pouring the jarred pasta sauce into the pot. Arthur absolutely hated when Merlin ate ‘that vile jarred soup’ but Merlin had told him time and time again that after a long day of work, Merlin wasn’t going to make a whole five-course meal. Which was why Arthur usually cooked, if he wasn’t a cat. Merlin really wasn’t going to complain to coming home to a nice meal, but that didn’t mean he didn’t have a hidden cabinet of junk food. (Arthur was a liar if he said he didn’t end up eating half of the snacks, when Merlin got caught red-handed with them too.)

But Arthur had decided that the familiar-potion that Merlin had been perfecting over the course of the last few months had smelled good. (Admittedly Merlin had added some extra ingredients so that it smelled like salted caramel because his partner had rubbed off on him over the years, and Merlin was getting tired of trying out potions that tasted like toad paste.)

But now Arthur was a cat. And Merlin had not designed the potion to be drunk by a non-magical person, so here they were, Sunday evening, wondering when this potion would wear off. Merlin hoped it would only be a few more hours and he would see his lovely’s partner’s face before Monday morning. It would be an awkward conversation to explain to Arthur’s boss at the restaurant.

Arthur continued to rub against his leg while Merlin finished cooking and then while he ate.

With a sigh, Merlin picked up the cat, looking into his yellow eyes.

“Will you listen to me when I tell you not to drink something next time?”

“Mrow,” He sounded apologetic.

“Well you should be sorry.” Merlin said, prescribing meaning to Arthur’s meows. “For all I know, I turned the love of my life into a cat permanently.”

“Mrow,” Arthur head-butted him.

“Yeah, me too.” Merlin said, deciding that he might as well wait it out. It might be a long night.

With a book in hand, Merlin sat in bed with cat-Arthur curled up by his side. He must of dozed off a few hours later, because he was woken up by a sudden snap and the weight shifting on the bed. He jolted awake and opened his eyes to find his partner lying on the bed, completely naked.

Arthur coughed a few times, some of it sounding a bit too feline for Merlin’s tastes, but soon enough, Arthur was cursing up a storm.

“-and who just leaves a cat-changing-potion in the refrigerator next to the pickles and the salad dressing. I swear to god Merlin, one of these days you are going to kill me-”

Merlin ignored him and flung his whole body towards him.

“Oh thank the triple goddess.” Merlin said, pecking a series of kisses over Arthur’s face.

Arthur huffed, obviously looking a little appeased by Merlin’s reaction.

“I’m still angry about the pasta.”

Merlin rolled his eyes, “Of course you are.”

***