Work Text:
Merlin had one job. One simple, straightforward, completely manageable job:
Don’t ruin the prince’s finest dark brown trousers.
And yet, somehow, here he was, standing in the palace kitchens at nearly midnight, submerging the fabric into a basin while muttering under his breath. In the flash of an eye, a very golden eye, the water was hot and steamy as Merlin continued scrubbing soap into the material.
Because of course Arthur needed his “finest trousers, Merlin, Camelot needs us to make a good impression” for the important council meeting tomorrow, the one with the visiting nobles, the one Arthur had been complaining about all week while flinging apple cores at Merlin’s head. And of course, Merlin had left late to go do the laundry because Gaius had needed him to run errands, and there had been a chicken loose in the courtyard, and—
He sighed, glancing around the empty kitchens, the glow of candles flickering against silver pots. Another tiny spark of magic flickered at his fingertips, heating the water even more while he worked at scrubbing, dunking, and rinsing the trousers, muttering about how the hotter water would just move things along faster. He tried to ignore how it nearly scorched his fingers.
By the time he finished, the trousers were warm and dry thanks to some more magic. Merlin smiled in triumph as he folded them over his arm, ready to sneak them into Arthur’s chambers.
He had this under control. Everything was fine.
*******
Sneaking into Arthur’s chambers while the prince was asleep was the easy part. Merlin tiptoed over boots and a discarded cloak, both of which he’d meant to clean up earlier, carefully opening the wardrobe and slipping the trousers onto the shelf, closing it with a relieved sigh.
Arthur snored once and Merlin froze, heart hammering, before exhaling and stalking back out.
There. Done. Perfect.
*******
The next morning, Merlin flung open the curtains, letting sunlight spill across the chamber as Arthur groaned under the blankets.
“Rise and shine, sire!” Merlin chirped, far too loud, just to be annoying.
Arthur’s arm flailed toward the window, trying to block the light. “It’s too early.”
“It’s the day of your important council meeting with the Talbots, remember?” Merlin said, stepping over another pile of boots, grabbing his water jug.
Arthur sat up, hair sticking up wildly, blinking at Merlin with bleary annoyance. “Breakfast first.”
He ate in silence, bread and cheese in hand, glaring occasionally at Merlin as he tidied up as if he were the reason for politics existing at all. When he finished, Arthur wiped his hands, stood, and said:
“Right. I need to dress. Where are my trousers?”
Merlin swallowed, looking up from making Arthur’s bed. “Wardrobe, sire.”
Arthur waited a moment. Then, when Merlin was still fluffing the pillows, he said, “Aren’t you going to get them?”
“Hmm? Oh, can’t you just do it yourself for once? I’m a bit busy.”
Arthur padded over the wardrobe, muttering insults about his incompetent servant. He opened it, fetched his newly-washed trousers and embroidered blue tunic and disappeared behind the changing screen.
*******
Merlin was busy folding blankets when he heard it:
A frustrated grunt. Then a curse. Then a thump as Arthur’s foot stamped the floor.
“Merlin.” Arthur stepped out from the screen, still shirtless.
Merlin glanced over, trying to look innocent, but his stomach dropped as Arthur turned, face red, fists clenching the waistband of his trousers—trousers that were stuck halfway up his thighs.
“What did you do to them, Merlin?” he asked, dangerous.
Merlin’s eyes darted to the trousers, which were indeed much tighter than they had any right to be. “I—I washed them, like you asked—”
“With what, a curse?”
Merlin’s mouth opened, closed, and opened again. “They shrunk a bit—Um, maybe the water was just a bit too hot—” Perhaps he’d gotten carried away last night.
“A bit ?” Arthur snapped, yanking at the waistband, managing to get them another inch up his thighs before they refused to budge further. “They’re cutting off my circulation, Merlin!”
Merlin squeaked. He approached him carefully, palms up, until Arthur threw his arms up, rolling his eyes. Then Merlin tried for himself, grabbing the sides of the trousers where they were cutting into his legs and tugging.
And tugging.
And tugging some more.
Merlin stepped back, crossing his arms, doing his very best to bite his lip and not laugh as he assessed the situation in front of him. Because Arthur was fuming.
Merlin cleared his throat. “Maybe you’ve—grown.”
“What, overnight?”
“Well you did have two slices of pie after dinner—”
Merlin shut his mouth, eyes wide, as Arthur took a threatening step forward, trousers still clinging to him like a second skin.
And then, because the universe had a sense of humor, Arthur lunged for him.
Merlin yelped, dodging behind the bed as Arthur, hopped after him, trying to chase him down while unable to bend his knees properly, the trousers creaking dangerously.
“Get back here, Merlin!”
“I’m sorry!” Merlin shouted, ducking behind a chair. “They shrunk, I didn’t know—”
“These were my favorite trousers!” Arthur grabbed for him, and Merlin darted away, tripping over a boot and crashing to the floor. He really needed to clean up in here.
Arthur stood over him, grinning.
That was when the door swung open.
*******
Leon and Gwaine stood there, blinking.
Arthur froze, trousers hugging half of his thighs like a scandal, hands on his hips, glaring daggers at Merlin.
Gwaine’s mouth dropped open before a wide grin split across his face. “And here we thought we might interrupt something inappropriate, Leon.”
Leon cleared his throat, valiantly trying not to laugh. “Sire, the council convenes in fifteen minutes.”
Arthur’s eye twitched. “Out.”
Leon gave Merlin a sympathetic look as he tugged Gwaine back out the door. “We’ll… wait in the hall to accompany you.”
The door clicked shut, leaving silence.
Arthur slowly looked down to Merlin, hair falling into his eyes.
“Right. Put them on,” Arthur said.
Merlin blinked, standing. “What?”
“You heard me. Put them on. ” Suddenly Arthur was shimmying out of the trousers. He peeled the tight fabric from his calves when they’d got stuck again.
Merlin’s mouth dropped open. “Absolutely not!”
Arthur crossed his arms, throwing the trousers at Merlin’s face. “You ruined them, you’re going to prove it. You’re a few sizes smaller than me, yes?”
“I am not putting on your trousers. It’s not my fault you got fat overnight.”
“What are you doing at noon?”
“What?”
“Because it’s been awhile since anyone’s been in the stocks. And noon will give me enough time to hand out potatoes to the children in the lower town.”
Merlin glared at Arthur. He went to go behind the changing screen, muttering curses under his breath. “You’re an ass.”
Moments later, he stepped out from the changing screen. He found Arthur already dressed in an older, worn pair of trousers and his blue tunic. As for the trousers Merlin was now wearing… they fit him perfectly. They were snug but not uncomfortable, fitting formly around his hips and legs in a way that made Merlin immediately self-conscious.
Arthur stared.
Merlin glared. “So they may have shrunk. Use all that gold you have to buy yourself another bloody pair of trousers.”
Arthur’s gaze raked him up and down. He smirked. The smirk that always made Merlin want to either kiss him or strangle him.
“Nice legs,” Arthur said casually, just to make Merlin squirm.
Merlin spluttered, face going red. “Shut up!”
Arthur turned, heading toward the door, and paused. “Meeting’s starting. You’re coming with me, like that.”
Merlin’s jaw dropped. “The hell I am. Arthur!”
Arthur pushed the chamber door open, greeting Leon and Gwaine, ignoring Merlin.
*******
As Merlin followed him out, Gwaine’s eyes immediately dropped to Merlin’s legs. “Damn Merlin, you've been hiding those in your baggy breeches all this time?”
Merlin tugged at his tunic, trying to cover himself as much as possible, intent on ignoring everyone and everything. That is, until he couldn’t hold it in any longer.
“I hate you,” Merlin muttered.
Arthur, without turning, shot back, “Why is it that I put up with you?”
“I think I know,” Gwaine whispered to himself, but he only shook his head when Merlin asked what he’d said.
They reached the chamber doors, Arthur pausing with his hand on the handle. For a moment, he glanced back at Merlin, blue eyes flicking down and then up, softening just a fraction.
“They really do look good on you, Merlin.”
Merlin’s breath caught, and Arthur smirked before pulling the doors open, letting the heavy wood swing wide as he strode in. Leon and Gwaine, wide eyes sparkling with suppressed laughter, flanked him.
Merlin took a deep breath, tugged once more at the fabric around his legs, and followed.
*******
They had barely made it out of the council chambers and down the hall before Arthur’s hand shot out, fingers curling around Merlin’s wrist.
“Arthur—”
“Shut up.” Arthur glanced down the hall, then tugged Merlin into the nearest alcove, pressing him gently against the cool stone. Merlin’s breath stuttered, his heartbeat loud in his ears.
Arthur’s eyes flicked down, lingering at Merlin’s hips before his hand followed, brushing over the snug fabric there, fingertips tracing a slow, maddening line across Merlin’s hip.
“You wore them,” Arthur said, voice low, amused.
Merlin’s mouth was dry. “You made me.”
Arthur hummed, a thumb pressing lightly into the curve of Merlin’s waist, just enough to make Merlin’s knees nearly give out. “Well. I’m enjoying the view.”
Merlin’s face flushed scarlet. “Arthur…what is this?”
Arthur leaned in, their noses almost brushing, blue eyes dancing with something warm, something dangerous. “I think you know. Think we both know.” A charged moment passed between them, their breaths soft, nearly mingling with the other’s as they made never-ending eye contact. “You should wear my clothes more often.”
Merlin’s breath caught, eyes darting to Arthur’s lips before he could stop himself. “You’re—impossible.”
“And you,” Arthur murmured, leaning in even closer, “are—”
“ Oi! ” came a loud, delighted voice from the end of the corridor.
Arthur froze. Merlin froze.
Gwaine was suddenly right there in front of Arthur, leaning against the wall, smirking so wide it was practically criminal. “You two done? Or should I give you another minute for your appreciation party?”
Merlin groaned, dropping his head back against the wall, hand going up to cover his eyes. Arthur’s hand was still on his hip, warm and steady, even as he glared at Gwaine over Merlin’s shoulder.
“Shut it, Gwaine,” Arthur said.
Gwaine only grinned wider. “Yes, sire. I’d say ‘get a room,’ but clearly, you found an alcove instead.”
Leon’s sigh could be heard from somewhere behind Gwaine, followed by a muttered, “Gwaine, please.”
“Right,” Gwaine said. “The nobles are ‘eager to witness your prowess on the training grounds.’ They’re heading there now.”
“Okay,” Arthur said, but he didn’t move, and neither did Merlin. They looked at each other, saying everything and nothing. Merlin nodded infinitesimally before Arthur stepped back.
And as they left the alcove, Arthur’s fingers brushed Merlin’s for just a moment before letting go. Merlin couldn’t help the small, stupid smile that tugged at his lips—even as Gwaine hummed the wedding march obnoxiously loudly behind them the entire walk back to Arthur’s chambers.