Merlin pushed open the door like he had a personal grudge against the hinges, glared irritably at Arthur, and then stomped towards the fireplace. Arthur watched in fascination as Merlin put more wood on the fire with barely controlled rage simmering under every move.

"Good morning," he said, after a minute, dryly. Merlin didn't look at him.

"Moron," Merlin muttered. Arthur squinted at him, and decided that he was not meant to take this personally.

Arthur lay back against the pillows and grinned up at the canopy. He loved winding Merlin up on days like these. It was better than a mummer's play for entertainment. "How's your morning been?" he asked blandly, with blithe disregard for the way Merlin twitched and stared at him.

"I cannot believe," Merlin bit off, glaring at him, at the fire, at the table full of dirty dishes, at the door as he stomped out mid-sentence. Arthur bit back a snicker as the door thumped shut.

Ten minutes later, Merlin was back with a basket and a tray. The tray held hot food. The basket took the cold leftovers. Arthur swung himself out of bed and wandered over to the tray while Merlin piled dishes into the basket, ignoring the crashing jangle of abused crockery.

"Cupcakes," he said, pleased. "I love cup--"

The door shut behind Merlin.

Arthur grinned and bit into the cupcake. It was going to be a great day, he decided cheerfully.