[Fic] Artur/Merlin Modern AU
Title:
Author: slowdead
Pairing: Arthur/Merlin (Merlin)
Genre: MODERN AU - fluff - romance
Rating: soft-R
Summary: Merlin is afraid his thing for Arthur's shirt has turned into a thing.
Disclaimer: Merlin does not belong to me, nor do the characters. This was written for entertainment purposes only - no money was made with this fanfiction and no harm intended. It's all in good fun!
Notes: Some notes before you start reading!
Second Merlin fic (that isn't RPS) I've ever written! Wooh! Oh I love writing Merlin and Arthur, I always forget how much fun they are - and how I can really shake things up a bit. I'm used to writing Bradley and Colin in this very, well, nice way. They can do no harm, it sometimes seems, but I feel like in a way Arthur and Merlin are more "human" because I see them as having more flaws? (I idolize bjam and cmorg too much - I know.)
Anyway, this fic just sort sprang out of nowhere a week ago, I'm not really sure what it's supposed to mean - it's pure self indulgence really, I love imagining my boys swapping clothes (it's very PINTO of them ♥) and then suddenly this came from that idea...
I don't know. It's kinda cracky maybe :D
I have this urge to appologize for writing this, and say stuff like: It might seem a bit disjointed but it's meant to! But ugh, I'm just gonna let you read it XD
Merlin’s never been particularly good at dealing with the cold; and this year January seems even more relentless than it usually does. Merlin climbs the stairs to the apartment he’s sharing with Arthur, trying to remember exactly why he turned down that 6 month long foreign exchange program to Spain.
When he finally gets to their apartment -and really, will he never get used to those stairs?- he peels his soaking wet coat from his freezing frame and voices this particularly question out loud.
In return Merlin is greeted with a: “Spain’s got winters too, you know?” closely followed by: “Please try not to flood the whole apartment, for Christ sake,” when he drops his equally soaking bag on the table with a nice, wet squelch.
“I bet they don’t have blizzards, turning into rain, turning into snow again in Spain, though,” Merlin groans as he tries to wrestle out of his jumper, that’s sticking wetly to his body. “Or boyfriends who care more about their floors than their loved ones getting frost bite.”
Arthur just rolls his eyes at that and pulls Merlin into the bathroom.
Arthur lets the last remark with and wordlessly helps Merlin out of his clothes. Merlin slides his hand through Arthur’s hair and smiles softly.
They both know that Arthur’s the only reason Merlin stayed in London after all.
Arthur turns on the shower, puts it on Merlin’s setting (ridiculously hot) and pushes him inside. By the time Merlin has gotten the feeling back in his fingertips and toes Arthur has neatly folded up his own clothes and joined him. Arthur lathers up Merlin’s hair with the shampoo he bought that afternoon -the one he knows Merlin likes so much- and Merlin sinks back against his chest with a content sigh. Much better.
---
When the alarm clock start cheerfully screaming out a pop song Merlin’s never heard before, he blearily opens one eye. The only thing he can see through their bedroom window is miserable gray and white.
“No,” Merlin wails, burying himself under the covers again while Arthur is already sitting up. Merlin blindly grabs for the hem of Arthur’s night-shirt and pulls at it weakly. “Stay and keep me warm.” Arthur laughs throatily in that morning voice of his and Merlin’s toes are curling a little already. Merlin pulls at the shirt again and again, until Arthur complies with a half-hearted grumble. Merlin triumphantly lies back against Arthur’s chest - his warm chest. Merlin does not want to move ever again.
Arthur allows the cuddling to go on for another 7 minutes (and Merlin is pretty sure it’s 7 minutes exactly) before extracting himself. “Some of us have a job to go to.” Is Arthur’s soft reply when Merlin groans and protests.
“You work from home!” Merlin flails as he desperately tries to pull Arthur back down in the bed before he manages to stand up completely.
“I have a meeting this morning.” Arthur says, dodging Merlin’s final attempt at catching him and walking to their walk-in closet. “And you have that important test, so I suggest you get up too.”
“If I don’t make it back home tonight because I have frozen to death somewhere on my way to uni you’ll be so mad at yourself for not staying in bed and letting me blow you this morning.”
The only reaction this gets Merlin is a snort, as Arthur walks out of their closet -outfit all picked out- and into their bathroom.
Merlin grumbles again and resists the urge to make a face at Arthur’s back. Somehow Arthur just always knows when he’s making faces. And even though chances are low, Merlin can’t help but hope Arthur will change his mind and let Merlin bask in his body heat for a couple more minutes after all, and he doesn’t want to risk it.
Seeing as Arthur needs at least 40 minutes to get ready in the bathroom, Merlin decides to start getting ready by looking for all his books and notes that are lying all over his side of the room. Yes, they each have their own side of the room. Upon moving in together Arthur had insisted on this. None of Merlin’s clutter or stuff is allowed to ever end up on Arthur’s side of the bed or his side of the room - that is unless they’re having sex.
Merlin gets his bag ready, has breakfast and is dressed in the time it takes Arthur to shave, shower and whatever else he does in the bathroom - Sometimes Merlin wonders about that.
Arthur walks out of the bathroom in a cuddly looking bathrobe and it takes all of Merlin’s self control to not just rub himself all over that soft looking fabric (and Arthur’s body underneath.) Instead he just takes another sip from his own cup of coffee and hands Arthur the other one.
Arthur takes the cup with his right hand and randomly starts frowning. Merlin is just about to ask if something’s wrong when Arthur uses his left to take a hold of the hem of Merlin’s jumper. He pulls the hem down and looks at Merlin’s chest intently.
Ah, so maybe that blowjob-comment did get Arthur more riled up than he lead Merlin to believe earlier.
But then when Arthur just continues to frownsat Merlin’s bared upper body, Merlin scowls. “What?” he snaps.
“Is that what you’re wearing?” Arthur asks.
“I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but it’s well below freezing outside and this is the warmest jumper I’ve got. Sorry if it’s not fashionable enough for you.”
Arthur just rolls his eyes, “That’s not what I meant, Merlin. I gave up trying to dress you years ago. I meant that it’s no wonder you’re freezing every day, you have to wear layers, Merlin. Layers. You’ll keep warm far more easily when you’re wearing a couple of light jumpers on top of each other instead of one, admittedly horrible looking, warmer one.”
Merlin simply sort of glares at Arthur for a couple of moments.
“Then don’t believe me,” Arthur shrugs before leaning in for a kiss, “Thanks for the coffee.”
---
Arthur is dressed and ready to leave ten minutes later while Merlin is still sitting on the edge of the bed, contemplating. The weather really looks extra horrible today but Merlin doesn’t want to give Arthur the satisfaction of just believing him like that after he had the nerve to insult Merlin’s favorite jumper. So Merlin waits for the sound of the door closing behind Arthur before throwing off his jumper and trying to find as many shirts and lighter jumpers as he can. Waiting for Arthur to leave has already made him a bit late so Merlin just shrugs on whatever shirts he can find close by (three in total) before putting the jumper on top and getting in his coat.
---
“I believe thanks are in order?” Arthur mumbles against Merlin’s lips. Arthur’s hands are stroking through Merlin’s hair, and Merlin might be a little bit oxygen deprived from the way Arthur has been sucking on his tongue for the last fifteen minutes, so he simply giggles and says: “You’re welcome.”
“I actually meant you should thank me.” Arthur scoffs, but he softens it a bit with another nip at Merlin’s jaw, distracting Merlin for another couple of seconds before he can focus long enough to ask: “Wait - What exactly are you talking about?”
Arthur’s fingers slide from Merlin’s hair to his ears, and they pinch and rub in such a delicious way that make Merlin’s eyes roll right back in his skull. “No frostbite.” Arthur says, “And you haven’t complained about the temperature even once today, so I’m taking my layers idea worked?”
Merlin flushes a bit and tries to pull back when Arthur’s left hand slides underneath his jumper to pull at the hems of the shirts underneath. “Well, I looked it up online and it seems like maybe you weren’t being completely wrong.”
Arthur smirks, and it’s almost infuriating enough for Merlin to swear he’ll never listen to any of Arthur’s ideas again. Just to show him he can’t just go around acting like he’s smarter than everyone else. Except that yeah, this is the warmest Merlin has been while out in the world for a long couple of months.
But then Arthur is pulling at his jumper and mumbling softly: “It also means there’s more for me to take off of you.”
And Merlin panics.
“There will be no undressing!” He announces and shifts back in the couch until he’s out of Arthur’s embrace. Arthur is looking at him like he just grew a second head. Like it’s so unusual for Merlin to turn down sex. Well, maybe it’s a bit unusual, but he’s got a perfectly good reason that Arthur cannot, under any circumstances, know about. “That is… until tonight. Because I uhm have to study first.”
“You don’t have class tomorrow.”
“Well, I have to study for a test I have the day after tomorrow.” Merlin is very aware of how he keeps blinking, but the more he tries to stop the worse it gets.
Arthur frowns and slowly sits up. “Okay, fine. I have some work I have to finish anyway.”
Merlin feels beyond guilty for lying, especially because it’s always so obvious when he does it.
He does have a good reason though, not that makes it any better.
It’s just that he wouldn’t have heard the end of it if Arthur had pulled off all of his shirts to find that one of them was actually Arthur’s.
Merlin had learned very early on in their relationship, back when they were still just friends even, that he could not, under whatever circumstances, touch Arthur’s stuff. (This included his pens, his food, his clothes and even his furniture - it took Merlin a month to earn the right to sit in Arthur’s big sofa.)
Arthur did get a little better at the sharing thing after they got together, and a lot better still after they moved in together. But clothes is still one of those things he does not budge on. Merlin is not even allowed to wash and/or iron Arthur’s clothes for him, not that he particularly minds that to be honest.
In his hurry to not be too late for his test that morning Merlin had accidentally put on one of Arthur’s soft, work-out shirts. Merlin hadn’t even noticed until he was sitting in class and saw the hem of the shirt poking out from under his sweater.
He knows he should have just taken it off when he got back home, when Arthur was still out and he could put it away unnoticed but truth be told - Merlin sort of liked it. He liked knowing he was wearing one of Arthur’s shirts, he liked how soft it was against his skin and he liked how, if he inhaled really deeply he could sort of smell Arthur.
If he gave in now, Arthur would not only figure out that Merlin was wearing the shirt, but it would also look like Merlin was wearing the shirt on purpose because he was lying about it.
Merlin slips into their bedroom, quickly takes off all his layers, puts Arthur’s shirt in the laundry and redresses with only his own shirts.
That night when Arthur finally, finally comes to bed Merlin is waiting with all his shirts and his socks still on (he chucked his pants somewhere along the way.)
“You can undress me now,” he announces loudly but Arthur just sort of looks at him like he’s insane.
It takes a surprising amount of nuzzling and kissing to get Arthur in the mood - it seems like his ego was bruised a little more than he lead on at first. Knowing that makes the guilt twisting in Merlin’s gut grow a little bigger, but then when he whispers, “I want you,” against Arthur’s jaw, Arthur starts clawing at his shirt and taking them off one, by one, his smile from earlier back on his face.
---
Merlin doesn’t have to leave the warmth of their home for the next four days.
Blizzards have been plaguing the city and people have been advised to stay in, advise Merlin is more than willing to follow.
Never before has Merlin been this grateful for Arthur’s tendencies to overstock their pantry and freezer. They drink warm chocolate milk and dump a mattress in the middle of the living room floor so they can spend the whole night watching a James Bond marathon. They eventually fall asleep like that, on top of each other with a bowl of popcorn toppled over on the mattress.
Arthur only whines a tiny bit about the mess the next day.
Monday comes too soon, and when Arthur leaves early to go to the 24 hour gym around the corner Merlin looks around their closet for more shirts to pile on top of the two he’s already wearing. Merlin tries very hard to keep himself from looking at the shirt neatly folded on Arthur’s nightstand.
Arthur had put it on for bed the previous night but had soon taken it back off with a mumbled: “Don’t you think two blankets are a bit much, Merlin? And did you turn up the heat again after I told you not to?”
The shirt looks really soft and warm. But no, Merlin couldn’t possibly - He has learned his lesson the last time and no, just no.
---
During his history class Merlin can’t help but constantly zone out and squirm in his seat a bit to feel the fabric of Arthur’s shirt drag against his skin. He sighs to himself and slumps. Apparently he hasn’t learned his lesson.
---
After that day a couple of things combined make Merlin stay away from Arthur’s shirts for a while and swear to himself: never again.
First there’s the fact that he hardly has any notes for his classes that day because he just couldn’t focus. Secondly, the temperature rises enough throughout the next couple of days that Merlin can’t really justify walking around like he’s off to the north pole anymore. Thirdly there’s the memory of Arthur almost catching him, again that second night.
So Merlin tells himself that’s definitely the end of that. It’s not like he feels this need to do it again anyway - and besides, he just took the shirts those two times because they were just readily available, that’s it.
It’s not like he’s got a weird thing for Arthur’s shirts or anything.
But then Merlin finds himself straddling Arthur’s lap a couple of nights later, and instead of exploring the skin under the shirt Merlin’s hands keep hovering over the shirt. It’s just… it feels so soft, and so warm from Arthur’s body heat and Merlin imagines Arthur slipping out of it and Merlin somehow putting it on himself. And then the shirt would still be warm from Arthur’s body, and it would have Arthur’s scent and - Merlin moans and thrusts down into Arthur’s lap.
Arthur chuckles, his voice a little breathless when he says: “You sure are excited tonight.”
Merlin’s eyes widen and he flushes all over. He can feel his skin prickling with embarrassment, like he’s twelve years old again and got caught with his hand down his trousers by his Aunt Edna.
After the sudden realization that okay, maybe it is a bit of a weird kink thing, and reliving that Aunt-Edna memory in his head, Merlin’s suddenly not really in the mood anymore. At all.
“What’s wrong?” Arthur stops nibbling at Merlin’s earlobe and frowns at Merlin’s non-responsiveness.
“Nothing.” Merlin says quickly, “Nothing, we’re good - it’s good.” And there’s the blinking again. Furious, and embarrassed all over again, Merlin starts rubbing his eyes with his hand and groans. “I’ve just got a lot on my mind.”
Arthur doesn’t say anything when Merlin slides back off his lap.
---
In February temperatures plummet horribly once again. Merlin spends his nights huddled under three blankets and with his freezing feet tangled with Arthur’s hot ones.
“You’re like a furnace.” Merlin mumbles into Arthur’s back, “I love you.”
“And you’re like an ice cube,” Arthur complains, trying to shift away from Merlin’s ice cold body parts. Merlin just chases the heat until Arthur sighs and gives in. He turns around in Merlin’s embrace and lets Merlin bask in the warmth of his body even more. Right before Merlin falls asleep he hears Arthur grumble. “And I love you too.”
The next morning Merlin wears four shirts and two jumpers. All his own. He’s warm and uncomfortable the whole day.
The sleeves of the top shirt are digging into his arms painfully because of all the shirts underneath, and somehow the fabric rubbing against his skin is making him go itchy. He also forgot his packed lunch at home and finds out he just barely passed one of the papers he worked so hard on all weekend.
Needless to say, Merlin goes home in a horrible mood. A mood that only gets worse when he finds a neat stack of freshly ironed shirts sitting on their bed.
Merlin -in a mindless act of rebellion, really- pushes at the stack until it crumbles into a messy heap.
Ha! He thinks, smug and self-satisfied.
He stares down at the heap and sits down next to it on the bed.
It doesn’t even take a minute for Merlin to start feeling guilty about it. Arthur probably spent a lot of time on those. Soon Merlin is trying to refold the shirts as neatly as Arthur always manages to.
After he’s done he’s critically looks at the pile he just folded, after deciding it’s not up to standard (well, Arthur’s standard anyway) Merlin picks up the top one again and refolds it. He puts the folded shirt in his lap and stares at it, wondering why they always look so much softer than his own shirts - this one is a faded blue with a washed-off logo and Merlin experimentally pets the fabric again.
When he suddenly hears the front door open Merlin’s heart rate spikes dangerously and in under a second he’s stuffed the shirt in his bag. Okay so he panicked, but somehow that seemed like the right thing to do.
“Merlin? I brought dinner.” Arthur calls from the living room.
“Yeah, in here.” Merlin calls back, trying to stop breathing so harshly. “In the bedroom.”
Arthur walks in with a big grin, “I got your favorite - why are my shirts all messed up?”
Merlin stares at the stack of shirts. “I-I don’t know what you’re…” he’s spluttering, “Okay I might have accidentally messed them up, but I folded them again! What’s for dinner again? Oh Chinese, nice! I’m so hungry!” Merlin snatches the bag from Arthur’s hand and dashes out of the bedroom before he can start blinking again.
---
“It’s not that they hate you, it’s just that…”
“It’s just that they hate me.” Merlin finishes for Arthur.
“You know my mum adores you,” Arthur sighs.
“It’s not her I was talking about, it’s the guy who keeps trying to marry you off to some rich girl and calls me Mervin. You know, that guy you refer to as father.” Merlin tries not to sound too accusatory, he really does.
“No, you’re right.” Arthur says a bit softly, the corners of his mouth are turned down in a way that makes Merlin want to smooth over those dimples with his thumbs. “I shouldn’t leave you here while I go to my cousin’s wedding. We can get a hotel and we won’t stay at my parents place and-”
“And your mum would never forgive me,” Merlin sighs.
Arthur shakes his head. “No I told you, my mother adores you.”
“And I adore her enough not to take this one weekend away from her.” Merlin says softly.
Looking at Arthur now he’s pretty sure he succeeded in operation make your boyfriend feel like an ass for going to a coupley family event by himself. He might have even overdone it a bit. “I mean, I have to finish that paper anyway - I probably wouldn’t even be able to come even if you wanted me to.” Merlin tries to console
“I do want you to come.” And Arthur is looking downright miserable now so Merlin thinks it’s time for them to kiss and make up, and preferably for the rest of the evening. He walks over to where Arthur is now moping on the couch and plants himself on his lap, “I know, now let’s just shut up about it and have sex already, it’s been like two days.”
“We had sex this morning,” Arthur’s smiling.
“Well that didn’t really count, I was still halfway asleep.”
“You weren’t halfway asleep when you were screaming my name.”
“I was, I was talking in my dreams. I have terrible nightmares, didn’t you know?”
Arthur topples Merlin over on the couch, Merlin goes down with a very manly screech. Arthur is laughing now: “Oh I’ll make you scream alright.”
---
The next day Merlin tries so hard not to think about the shirt in his bag he almost ignores a red light and runs into a busy street. For safety reasons (and those reasons alone!) the first thing he does when he gets to his uni is run to the bathroom and put on the shirt in a bathroom stall.
This time he changes back out of it before he goes back home though.
It doesn’t really make him feel any less guilty.
---
Arthur leaves on Friday morning and won’t be home until late on Sunday night. He kisses Merlin goodbye in bed for at least ten minutes, and then for another five minutes at the door.
They’re not normally this sappy. It’s just that Merlin doesn’t remember them ever being apart for more than 24 hours since long before they started living together.
“I’m sure you’ll be happy to be spending a couple of days away from my cold feet.” Merlin jokes.
“Extremely. And now you can make a mess everywhere! Well, as long as you clean it before I get back.” Arthur smiles back.
But after he’s closed the door behind Arthur, it doesn’t take more than the short walk back to the bed and the thought of Uther introducing Arthur to one pretty, rich girl after the other to make him feel lonely and worried.
“Might as well enjoy it a bit,” he mumbles to himself as he turns up the heating far above what Arthur would ever approve of, and plops down on Arthur’s side of the bed. He buries his face in Arthur’s pillow and doesn’t resurface until three hours later when he has to hurry if he wants to make it to class in time.
---
Merlin actually holds out pretty well that first day.
That is until Arthur calls him late that night. His voice sounds deep and gravely through the phone as he tells Merlin about his day and how it would have been endlessly better if Merlin would have been there - well, he doesn’t outright say it, but it’s definitely implied. The whole conversation leaves Merlin sleepless and frustrated with himself for it.
At one in the morning Merlin finally relents and crawls out of bed and into their closet. He grabs the first shirt of Arthur’s he can find and puts it on. He cranks up the heating a little more too and lies down in the middle of the bed, in just his boxer shorts and the shirt.
It should be unsettling how much better it makes him feel but it’s one in the morning, and Merlin’s so tired that the only thing he feels is gratitude for finally feeling sleep take over his body.
Merlin deems Saturday a perfect day for staying inside all day. He’s changed into another one of Arthur’s shirts and a pair of comfy lounge shorts. He spends the biggest part of the day watching an America’s next top model marathon on TV and eating crisp on the couch.
He sends Arthur various updates on the show because he knows how much Arthur claims he detests the whole thing, while he secretly loves it as much as Merlin. Maybe even more. Merlin’s pretty sure it’s making Arthur smile during the boring ceremonies.
Is it really that bad? Merlin texts him.
I’m contemplating stabbing myself in the eye so I can get out of here.
You might still need your eye one day though, Merlin replies, So best if you didn’t.
Like to look at the state of the apartment when I get home tomorrow?
Or to look at my ass
There’s that too :-) And it’s the smiley face more than anything that makes Merlin walk around with a stupid grin for the rest of the day.
---
Merlin has dinner in bed (which is never ever allowed,) turns up the heating until he only needs one more blanket to be comfortable and starts on his latest assignment (also in bed, of course.)
Right before he goes to sleep (and okay, he does feel a little embarrassed that it’s at 9 PM, on a Saturday night - but it’s not like anyone will ever have to know anyway) he changes into another one of Arthur’s shirt.
This one he got from the laundry basket.
It’s not dirty or anything, Arthur’s so peculiar about his hygiene and touching, well, anything, that Merlin doesn’t believe any of his clothes could ever be called dirty. It’s just, well, it’s worn, and it smells like Arthur’s deodorant and aftershave and all those millions of small things that, combined, form a pretty good illusion of Arthur.
It takes him less than five minutes to drift to sleep.
---
Merlin isn’t sure what wakes him up first, the fingers stroking through his hair or his name being called rather loudly. He halfheartedly pushes the hand in his hair away, it feels sort of nice but it’s also waking him up and Merlin doesn’t really feel like being awake right now.
“I can’t believe you’re asleep already, it’s not even 11 yet.” The voice is saying now and so Merlin slowly opens one eye.
“Arthur?” He groans sleepily, “What are you doing here?”
“I live here?” Arthur grins, taking off his coat and dropping it on the floor.
It’s very unlike Arthur to drop anything anywhere, and Merlin tries to confusedly shake the sleep-fogginess from his head.
“No I mean… I mean, the wedding?” Merlin asks.
“I left right after the ceremony, I told my mum I’d make it up to her and we’re supposed to take her out to dinner next week.”
“Oh, neat.” Merlin smiles, Arthur’s mum always brings him something when she visits.
Arthur gets back on the bed and wastes no time as he starts kissing his neck. Arthur grabsMerlin’s hips and drags him down the bed, Merlin goes willingly.
His mouth moves from Merlin’s neck to his lips, and he immediately starts sucking on Merlin’s bottom lip. Arthur continues to suck and bite and lick until Merlin is completely breathless and arching up to Arthur’s body. What feels like hours later Arthur finally sits up; he’s gasping and unbuttoning the fancy dress shirt he wore to the wedding, Merlin watches appreciating.
“Not that I’m complaining,” Merlin all but groans, “’Cause believe me, I’m not but - what brought this on? Did all the pretty bridesmaids turn you on or something?”
“You turn me on,” Arthur mumbles, lying back down next to Merlin in only his underwear now. “You wearing my shirt to bed is one of the hottest things I’ve ever seen.”
“Oh?” Oh the shirt. Merlin’s gut tightens with guilt and fear before the rest of that sentence hits him. “Hot?” he breaths. “Really?”
Arthur nods fiercely, kissing Merlin again and again until they’re just licking the insides of each other’s mouths and rutting against each other, touching whatever skin they can. Arthur keeps tugging at the fabric of the shirt, palming Merlin through it but Merlin wants more, wants to feel Arthur more, wants his hands on his skin. So Merlin breaks the kiss and tries to sit up to take off the shirt.
Arthur’s quicker though, and in a second he’s pinning Merlin’s wrists on the bed and moving in between Merlin’s spread legs. “No, no leave it on.” Arthur mumbles against Merlin’s neck in between bites and kisses and does he want to drive Merlin insane?
Merlin moans and nods frantically. “Okay, okay-sure.”
And they just fit together, rubbing and thrusting until it’s too much and not enough and when Arthur finally lets go of Merlin’s wrist, both their hands immediately start pulling and tugging at their underwear until it’s gone (Merlin’s) or just pushed down and out of their way (Arthur’s.)
Arthur is mumbling against his neck: “I missed you, I missed you. Feels so good, you feel so good - look so good in my shirt.” It’s driving Merlin more and more towards the edge until all he can really do is rut against Arthur and groan his name over and over again until he comes in between their bodies.
Arthur’s hips stutter and he’s coming too, sticky and warm and Merlin can’t help but moan out loud at the sensation again.
“I’m glad you came home early,” Merlin mumbles; worn out and happy.
---
“So you’ve been wearing my shirts since January?” Arthur repeats slowly.
Merlin nods.
“But only sometimes - only when it’s very cold?”
Merlin nods again, slower this time.
“But now you’re worried it’s turned into a thing.”
“Well, I can control it. I can stop… I think.”
Arthur frowns, “Well, Merlin, in all honesty, as far as things go, especially when it concerns you, this one’s pretty tame so I’m sure we can learn to live with it.” Arthur folds up the newspaper he was reading before Merlin burst in the kitchen with a babbled confession about shirts and sexual deviancy.
Merlin lets out a small breath he didn’t know he was holding and settles back into his chair.
Arthur gets up and kisses Merlin’s forehead before going to the living room.
Arthur stops in the doorway “Well it’s-” he asks, “It’s only shirts, right? Not my fancy button-ups or anything?”
Merlin rolls his eyes at Arthur’s back and pours himself another cup of tea. “Just shirts, don’t worry about your more expensive clothes.”
“Good,” Arthur nods, “And stop rolling your eyes at me. I’m not the one with the thing here.”
Merlin splutters and Arthur turns around to with the sole purpose to smirk. “Well-o” Merlin says eloquently, “Well, after last night I’m pretty sure you’re the one with the thing for my thing! So there!”
Arthur flushes bright red before glaring and stalking off.
Merlin butters his toast with a grin.
-----
[x] Comments are always much appreciated ♥
Author: slowdead
Pairing: Arthur/Merlin (Merlin)
Genre: MODERN AU - fluff - romance
Rating: soft-R
Summary: Merlin is afraid his thing for Arthur's shirt has turned into a thing.
Disclaimer: Merlin does not belong to me, nor do the characters. This was written for entertainment purposes only - no money was made with this fanfiction and no harm intended. It's all in good fun!
Notes: Some notes before you start reading!
Second Merlin fic (that isn't RPS) I've ever written! Wooh! Oh I love writing Merlin and Arthur, I always forget how much fun they are - and how I can really shake things up a bit. I'm used to writing Bradley and Colin in this very, well, nice way. They can do no harm, it sometimes seems, but I feel like in a way Arthur and Merlin are more "human" because I see them as having more flaws? (I idolize bjam and cmorg too much - I know.)
Anyway, this fic just sort sprang out of nowhere a week ago, I'm not really sure what it's supposed to mean - it's pure self indulgence really, I love imagining my boys swapping clothes (it's very PINTO of them ♥) and then suddenly this came from that idea...
I don't know. It's kinda cracky maybe :D
I have this urge to appologize for writing this, and say stuff like: It might seem a bit disjointed but it's meant to! But ugh, I'm just gonna let you read it XD
Merlin’s never been particularly good at dealing with the cold; and this year January seems even more relentless than it usually does. Merlin climbs the stairs to the apartment he’s sharing with Arthur, trying to remember exactly why he turned down that 6 month long foreign exchange program to Spain.
When he finally gets to their apartment -and really, will he never get used to those stairs?- he peels his soaking wet coat from his freezing frame and voices this particularly question out loud.
In return Merlin is greeted with a: “Spain’s got winters too, you know?” closely followed by: “Please try not to flood the whole apartment, for Christ sake,” when he drops his equally soaking bag on the table with a nice, wet squelch.
“I bet they don’t have blizzards, turning into rain, turning into snow again in Spain, though,” Merlin groans as he tries to wrestle out of his jumper, that’s sticking wetly to his body. “Or boyfriends who care more about their floors than their loved ones getting frost bite.”
Arthur just rolls his eyes at that and pulls Merlin into the bathroom.
Arthur lets the last remark with and wordlessly helps Merlin out of his clothes. Merlin slides his hand through Arthur’s hair and smiles softly.
They both know that Arthur’s the only reason Merlin stayed in London after all.
Arthur turns on the shower, puts it on Merlin’s setting (ridiculously hot) and pushes him inside. By the time Merlin has gotten the feeling back in his fingertips and toes Arthur has neatly folded up his own clothes and joined him. Arthur lathers up Merlin’s hair with the shampoo he bought that afternoon -the one he knows Merlin likes so much- and Merlin sinks back against his chest with a content sigh. Much better.
---
When the alarm clock start cheerfully screaming out a pop song Merlin’s never heard before, he blearily opens one eye. The only thing he can see through their bedroom window is miserable gray and white.
“No,” Merlin wails, burying himself under the covers again while Arthur is already sitting up. Merlin blindly grabs for the hem of Arthur’s night-shirt and pulls at it weakly. “Stay and keep me warm.” Arthur laughs throatily in that morning voice of his and Merlin’s toes are curling a little already. Merlin pulls at the shirt again and again, until Arthur complies with a half-hearted grumble. Merlin triumphantly lies back against Arthur’s chest - his warm chest. Merlin does not want to move ever again.
Arthur allows the cuddling to go on for another 7 minutes (and Merlin is pretty sure it’s 7 minutes exactly) before extracting himself. “Some of us have a job to go to.” Is Arthur’s soft reply when Merlin groans and protests.
“You work from home!” Merlin flails as he desperately tries to pull Arthur back down in the bed before he manages to stand up completely.
“I have a meeting this morning.” Arthur says, dodging Merlin’s final attempt at catching him and walking to their walk-in closet. “And you have that important test, so I suggest you get up too.”
“If I don’t make it back home tonight because I have frozen to death somewhere on my way to uni you’ll be so mad at yourself for not staying in bed and letting me blow you this morning.”
The only reaction this gets Merlin is a snort, as Arthur walks out of their closet -outfit all picked out- and into their bathroom.
Merlin grumbles again and resists the urge to make a face at Arthur’s back. Somehow Arthur just always knows when he’s making faces. And even though chances are low, Merlin can’t help but hope Arthur will change his mind and let Merlin bask in his body heat for a couple more minutes after all, and he doesn’t want to risk it.
Seeing as Arthur needs at least 40 minutes to get ready in the bathroom, Merlin decides to start getting ready by looking for all his books and notes that are lying all over his side of the room. Yes, they each have their own side of the room. Upon moving in together Arthur had insisted on this. None of Merlin’s clutter or stuff is allowed to ever end up on Arthur’s side of the bed or his side of the room - that is unless they’re having sex.
Merlin gets his bag ready, has breakfast and is dressed in the time it takes Arthur to shave, shower and whatever else he does in the bathroom - Sometimes Merlin wonders about that.
Arthur walks out of the bathroom in a cuddly looking bathrobe and it takes all of Merlin’s self control to not just rub himself all over that soft looking fabric (and Arthur’s body underneath.) Instead he just takes another sip from his own cup of coffee and hands Arthur the other one.
Arthur takes the cup with his right hand and randomly starts frowning. Merlin is just about to ask if something’s wrong when Arthur uses his left to take a hold of the hem of Merlin’s jumper. He pulls the hem down and looks at Merlin’s chest intently.
Ah, so maybe that blowjob-comment did get Arthur more riled up than he lead Merlin to believe earlier.
But then when Arthur just continues to frownsat Merlin’s bared upper body, Merlin scowls. “What?” he snaps.
“Is that what you’re wearing?” Arthur asks.
“I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but it’s well below freezing outside and this is the warmest jumper I’ve got. Sorry if it’s not fashionable enough for you.”
Arthur just rolls his eyes, “That’s not what I meant, Merlin. I gave up trying to dress you years ago. I meant that it’s no wonder you’re freezing every day, you have to wear layers, Merlin. Layers. You’ll keep warm far more easily when you’re wearing a couple of light jumpers on top of each other instead of one, admittedly horrible looking, warmer one.”
Merlin simply sort of glares at Arthur for a couple of moments.
“Then don’t believe me,” Arthur shrugs before leaning in for a kiss, “Thanks for the coffee.”
---
Arthur is dressed and ready to leave ten minutes later while Merlin is still sitting on the edge of the bed, contemplating. The weather really looks extra horrible today but Merlin doesn’t want to give Arthur the satisfaction of just believing him like that after he had the nerve to insult Merlin’s favorite jumper. So Merlin waits for the sound of the door closing behind Arthur before throwing off his jumper and trying to find as many shirts and lighter jumpers as he can. Waiting for Arthur to leave has already made him a bit late so Merlin just shrugs on whatever shirts he can find close by (three in total) before putting the jumper on top and getting in his coat.
---
“I believe thanks are in order?” Arthur mumbles against Merlin’s lips. Arthur’s hands are stroking through Merlin’s hair, and Merlin might be a little bit oxygen deprived from the way Arthur has been sucking on his tongue for the last fifteen minutes, so he simply giggles and says: “You’re welcome.”
“I actually meant you should thank me.” Arthur scoffs, but he softens it a bit with another nip at Merlin’s jaw, distracting Merlin for another couple of seconds before he can focus long enough to ask: “Wait - What exactly are you talking about?”
Arthur’s fingers slide from Merlin’s hair to his ears, and they pinch and rub in such a delicious way that make Merlin’s eyes roll right back in his skull. “No frostbite.” Arthur says, “And you haven’t complained about the temperature even once today, so I’m taking my layers idea worked?”
Merlin flushes a bit and tries to pull back when Arthur’s left hand slides underneath his jumper to pull at the hems of the shirts underneath. “Well, I looked it up online and it seems like maybe you weren’t being completely wrong.”
Arthur smirks, and it’s almost infuriating enough for Merlin to swear he’ll never listen to any of Arthur’s ideas again. Just to show him he can’t just go around acting like he’s smarter than everyone else. Except that yeah, this is the warmest Merlin has been while out in the world for a long couple of months.
But then Arthur is pulling at his jumper and mumbling softly: “It also means there’s more for me to take off of you.”
And Merlin panics.
“There will be no undressing!” He announces and shifts back in the couch until he’s out of Arthur’s embrace. Arthur is looking at him like he just grew a second head. Like it’s so unusual for Merlin to turn down sex. Well, maybe it’s a bit unusual, but he’s got a perfectly good reason that Arthur cannot, under any circumstances, know about. “That is… until tonight. Because I uhm have to study first.”
“You don’t have class tomorrow.”
“Well, I have to study for a test I have the day after tomorrow.” Merlin is very aware of how he keeps blinking, but the more he tries to stop the worse it gets.
Arthur frowns and slowly sits up. “Okay, fine. I have some work I have to finish anyway.”
Merlin feels beyond guilty for lying, especially because it’s always so obvious when he does it.
He does have a good reason though, not that makes it any better.
It’s just that he wouldn’t have heard the end of it if Arthur had pulled off all of his shirts to find that one of them was actually Arthur’s.
Merlin had learned very early on in their relationship, back when they were still just friends even, that he could not, under whatever circumstances, touch Arthur’s stuff. (This included his pens, his food, his clothes and even his furniture - it took Merlin a month to earn the right to sit in Arthur’s big sofa.)
Arthur did get a little better at the sharing thing after they got together, and a lot better still after they moved in together. But clothes is still one of those things he does not budge on. Merlin is not even allowed to wash and/or iron Arthur’s clothes for him, not that he particularly minds that to be honest.
In his hurry to not be too late for his test that morning Merlin had accidentally put on one of Arthur’s soft, work-out shirts. Merlin hadn’t even noticed until he was sitting in class and saw the hem of the shirt poking out from under his sweater.
He knows he should have just taken it off when he got back home, when Arthur was still out and he could put it away unnoticed but truth be told - Merlin sort of liked it. He liked knowing he was wearing one of Arthur’s shirts, he liked how soft it was against his skin and he liked how, if he inhaled really deeply he could sort of smell Arthur.
If he gave in now, Arthur would not only figure out that Merlin was wearing the shirt, but it would also look like Merlin was wearing the shirt on purpose because he was lying about it.
Merlin slips into their bedroom, quickly takes off all his layers, puts Arthur’s shirt in the laundry and redresses with only his own shirts.
That night when Arthur finally, finally comes to bed Merlin is waiting with all his shirts and his socks still on (he chucked his pants somewhere along the way.)
“You can undress me now,” he announces loudly but Arthur just sort of looks at him like he’s insane.
It takes a surprising amount of nuzzling and kissing to get Arthur in the mood - it seems like his ego was bruised a little more than he lead on at first. Knowing that makes the guilt twisting in Merlin’s gut grow a little bigger, but then when he whispers, “I want you,” against Arthur’s jaw, Arthur starts clawing at his shirt and taking them off one, by one, his smile from earlier back on his face.
---
Merlin doesn’t have to leave the warmth of their home for the next four days.
Blizzards have been plaguing the city and people have been advised to stay in, advise Merlin is more than willing to follow.
Never before has Merlin been this grateful for Arthur’s tendencies to overstock their pantry and freezer. They drink warm chocolate milk and dump a mattress in the middle of the living room floor so they can spend the whole night watching a James Bond marathon. They eventually fall asleep like that, on top of each other with a bowl of popcorn toppled over on the mattress.
Arthur only whines a tiny bit about the mess the next day.
Monday comes too soon, and when Arthur leaves early to go to the 24 hour gym around the corner Merlin looks around their closet for more shirts to pile on top of the two he’s already wearing. Merlin tries very hard to keep himself from looking at the shirt neatly folded on Arthur’s nightstand.
Arthur had put it on for bed the previous night but had soon taken it back off with a mumbled: “Don’t you think two blankets are a bit much, Merlin? And did you turn up the heat again after I told you not to?”
The shirt looks really soft and warm. But no, Merlin couldn’t possibly - He has learned his lesson the last time and no, just no.
---
During his history class Merlin can’t help but constantly zone out and squirm in his seat a bit to feel the fabric of Arthur’s shirt drag against his skin. He sighs to himself and slumps. Apparently he hasn’t learned his lesson.
---
After that day a couple of things combined make Merlin stay away from Arthur’s shirts for a while and swear to himself: never again.
First there’s the fact that he hardly has any notes for his classes that day because he just couldn’t focus. Secondly, the temperature rises enough throughout the next couple of days that Merlin can’t really justify walking around like he’s off to the north pole anymore. Thirdly there’s the memory of Arthur almost catching him, again that second night.
So Merlin tells himself that’s definitely the end of that. It’s not like he feels this need to do it again anyway - and besides, he just took the shirts those two times because they were just readily available, that’s it.
It’s not like he’s got a weird thing for Arthur’s shirts or anything.
But then Merlin finds himself straddling Arthur’s lap a couple of nights later, and instead of exploring the skin under the shirt Merlin’s hands keep hovering over the shirt. It’s just… it feels so soft, and so warm from Arthur’s body heat and Merlin imagines Arthur slipping out of it and Merlin somehow putting it on himself. And then the shirt would still be warm from Arthur’s body, and it would have Arthur’s scent and - Merlin moans and thrusts down into Arthur’s lap.
Arthur chuckles, his voice a little breathless when he says: “You sure are excited tonight.”
Merlin’s eyes widen and he flushes all over. He can feel his skin prickling with embarrassment, like he’s twelve years old again and got caught with his hand down his trousers by his Aunt Edna.
After the sudden realization that okay, maybe it is a bit of a weird kink thing, and reliving that Aunt-Edna memory in his head, Merlin’s suddenly not really in the mood anymore. At all.
“What’s wrong?” Arthur stops nibbling at Merlin’s earlobe and frowns at Merlin’s non-responsiveness.
“Nothing.” Merlin says quickly, “Nothing, we’re good - it’s good.” And there’s the blinking again. Furious, and embarrassed all over again, Merlin starts rubbing his eyes with his hand and groans. “I’ve just got a lot on my mind.”
Arthur doesn’t say anything when Merlin slides back off his lap.
---
In February temperatures plummet horribly once again. Merlin spends his nights huddled under three blankets and with his freezing feet tangled with Arthur’s hot ones.
“You’re like a furnace.” Merlin mumbles into Arthur’s back, “I love you.”
“And you’re like an ice cube,” Arthur complains, trying to shift away from Merlin’s ice cold body parts. Merlin just chases the heat until Arthur sighs and gives in. He turns around in Merlin’s embrace and lets Merlin bask in the warmth of his body even more. Right before Merlin falls asleep he hears Arthur grumble. “And I love you too.”
The next morning Merlin wears four shirts and two jumpers. All his own. He’s warm and uncomfortable the whole day.
The sleeves of the top shirt are digging into his arms painfully because of all the shirts underneath, and somehow the fabric rubbing against his skin is making him go itchy. He also forgot his packed lunch at home and finds out he just barely passed one of the papers he worked so hard on all weekend.
Needless to say, Merlin goes home in a horrible mood. A mood that only gets worse when he finds a neat stack of freshly ironed shirts sitting on their bed.
Merlin -in a mindless act of rebellion, really- pushes at the stack until it crumbles into a messy heap.
Ha! He thinks, smug and self-satisfied.
He stares down at the heap and sits down next to it on the bed.
It doesn’t even take a minute for Merlin to start feeling guilty about it. Arthur probably spent a lot of time on those. Soon Merlin is trying to refold the shirts as neatly as Arthur always manages to.
After he’s done he’s critically looks at the pile he just folded, after deciding it’s not up to standard (well, Arthur’s standard anyway) Merlin picks up the top one again and refolds it. He puts the folded shirt in his lap and stares at it, wondering why they always look so much softer than his own shirts - this one is a faded blue with a washed-off logo and Merlin experimentally pets the fabric again.
When he suddenly hears the front door open Merlin’s heart rate spikes dangerously and in under a second he’s stuffed the shirt in his bag. Okay so he panicked, but somehow that seemed like the right thing to do.
“Merlin? I brought dinner.” Arthur calls from the living room.
“Yeah, in here.” Merlin calls back, trying to stop breathing so harshly. “In the bedroom.”
Arthur walks in with a big grin, “I got your favorite - why are my shirts all messed up?”
Merlin stares at the stack of shirts. “I-I don’t know what you’re…” he’s spluttering, “Okay I might have accidentally messed them up, but I folded them again! What’s for dinner again? Oh Chinese, nice! I’m so hungry!” Merlin snatches the bag from Arthur’s hand and dashes out of the bedroom before he can start blinking again.
---
“It’s not that they hate you, it’s just that…”
“It’s just that they hate me.” Merlin finishes for Arthur.
“You know my mum adores you,” Arthur sighs.
“It’s not her I was talking about, it’s the guy who keeps trying to marry you off to some rich girl and calls me Mervin. You know, that guy you refer to as father.” Merlin tries not to sound too accusatory, he really does.
“No, you’re right.” Arthur says a bit softly, the corners of his mouth are turned down in a way that makes Merlin want to smooth over those dimples with his thumbs. “I shouldn’t leave you here while I go to my cousin’s wedding. We can get a hotel and we won’t stay at my parents place and-”
“And your mum would never forgive me,” Merlin sighs.
Arthur shakes his head. “No I told you, my mother adores you.”
“And I adore her enough not to take this one weekend away from her.” Merlin says softly.
Looking at Arthur now he’s pretty sure he succeeded in operation make your boyfriend feel like an ass for going to a coupley family event by himself. He might have even overdone it a bit. “I mean, I have to finish that paper anyway - I probably wouldn’t even be able to come even if you wanted me to.” Merlin tries to console
“I do want you to come.” And Arthur is looking downright miserable now so Merlin thinks it’s time for them to kiss and make up, and preferably for the rest of the evening. He walks over to where Arthur is now moping on the couch and plants himself on his lap, “I know, now let’s just shut up about it and have sex already, it’s been like two days.”
“We had sex this morning,” Arthur’s smiling.
“Well that didn’t really count, I was still halfway asleep.”
“You weren’t halfway asleep when you were screaming my name.”
“I was, I was talking in my dreams. I have terrible nightmares, didn’t you know?”
Arthur topples Merlin over on the couch, Merlin goes down with a very manly screech. Arthur is laughing now: “Oh I’ll make you scream alright.”
---
The next day Merlin tries so hard not to think about the shirt in his bag he almost ignores a red light and runs into a busy street. For safety reasons (and those reasons alone!) the first thing he does when he gets to his uni is run to the bathroom and put on the shirt in a bathroom stall.
This time he changes back out of it before he goes back home though.
It doesn’t really make him feel any less guilty.
---
Arthur leaves on Friday morning and won’t be home until late on Sunday night. He kisses Merlin goodbye in bed for at least ten minutes, and then for another five minutes at the door.
They’re not normally this sappy. It’s just that Merlin doesn’t remember them ever being apart for more than 24 hours since long before they started living together.
“I’m sure you’ll be happy to be spending a couple of days away from my cold feet.” Merlin jokes.
“Extremely. And now you can make a mess everywhere! Well, as long as you clean it before I get back.” Arthur smiles back.
But after he’s closed the door behind Arthur, it doesn’t take more than the short walk back to the bed and the thought of Uther introducing Arthur to one pretty, rich girl after the other to make him feel lonely and worried.
“Might as well enjoy it a bit,” he mumbles to himself as he turns up the heating far above what Arthur would ever approve of, and plops down on Arthur’s side of the bed. He buries his face in Arthur’s pillow and doesn’t resurface until three hours later when he has to hurry if he wants to make it to class in time.
---
Merlin actually holds out pretty well that first day.
That is until Arthur calls him late that night. His voice sounds deep and gravely through the phone as he tells Merlin about his day and how it would have been endlessly better if Merlin would have been there - well, he doesn’t outright say it, but it’s definitely implied. The whole conversation leaves Merlin sleepless and frustrated with himself for it.
At one in the morning Merlin finally relents and crawls out of bed and into their closet. He grabs the first shirt of Arthur’s he can find and puts it on. He cranks up the heating a little more too and lies down in the middle of the bed, in just his boxer shorts and the shirt.
It should be unsettling how much better it makes him feel but it’s one in the morning, and Merlin’s so tired that the only thing he feels is gratitude for finally feeling sleep take over his body.
Merlin deems Saturday a perfect day for staying inside all day. He’s changed into another one of Arthur’s shirts and a pair of comfy lounge shorts. He spends the biggest part of the day watching an America’s next top model marathon on TV and eating crisp on the couch.
He sends Arthur various updates on the show because he knows how much Arthur claims he detests the whole thing, while he secretly loves it as much as Merlin. Maybe even more. Merlin’s pretty sure it’s making Arthur smile during the boring ceremonies.
Is it really that bad? Merlin texts him.
I’m contemplating stabbing myself in the eye so I can get out of here.
You might still need your eye one day though, Merlin replies, So best if you didn’t.
Like to look at the state of the apartment when I get home tomorrow?
Or to look at my ass
There’s that too :-) And it’s the smiley face more than anything that makes Merlin walk around with a stupid grin for the rest of the day.
---
Merlin has dinner in bed (which is never ever allowed,) turns up the heating until he only needs one more blanket to be comfortable and starts on his latest assignment (also in bed, of course.)
Right before he goes to sleep (and okay, he does feel a little embarrassed that it’s at 9 PM, on a Saturday night - but it’s not like anyone will ever have to know anyway) he changes into another one of Arthur’s shirt.
This one he got from the laundry basket.
It’s not dirty or anything, Arthur’s so peculiar about his hygiene and touching, well, anything, that Merlin doesn’t believe any of his clothes could ever be called dirty. It’s just, well, it’s worn, and it smells like Arthur’s deodorant and aftershave and all those millions of small things that, combined, form a pretty good illusion of Arthur.
It takes him less than five minutes to drift to sleep.
---
Merlin isn’t sure what wakes him up first, the fingers stroking through his hair or his name being called rather loudly. He halfheartedly pushes the hand in his hair away, it feels sort of nice but it’s also waking him up and Merlin doesn’t really feel like being awake right now.
“I can’t believe you’re asleep already, it’s not even 11 yet.” The voice is saying now and so Merlin slowly opens one eye.
“Arthur?” He groans sleepily, “What are you doing here?”
“I live here?” Arthur grins, taking off his coat and dropping it on the floor.
It’s very unlike Arthur to drop anything anywhere, and Merlin tries to confusedly shake the sleep-fogginess from his head.
“No I mean… I mean, the wedding?” Merlin asks.
“I left right after the ceremony, I told my mum I’d make it up to her and we’re supposed to take her out to dinner next week.”
“Oh, neat.” Merlin smiles, Arthur’s mum always brings him something when she visits.
Arthur gets back on the bed and wastes no time as he starts kissing his neck. Arthur grabsMerlin’s hips and drags him down the bed, Merlin goes willingly.
His mouth moves from Merlin’s neck to his lips, and he immediately starts sucking on Merlin’s bottom lip. Arthur continues to suck and bite and lick until Merlin is completely breathless and arching up to Arthur’s body. What feels like hours later Arthur finally sits up; he’s gasping and unbuttoning the fancy dress shirt he wore to the wedding, Merlin watches appreciating.
“Not that I’m complaining,” Merlin all but groans, “’Cause believe me, I’m not but - what brought this on? Did all the pretty bridesmaids turn you on or something?”
“You turn me on,” Arthur mumbles, lying back down next to Merlin in only his underwear now. “You wearing my shirt to bed is one of the hottest things I’ve ever seen.”
“Oh?” Oh the shirt. Merlin’s gut tightens with guilt and fear before the rest of that sentence hits him. “Hot?” he breaths. “Really?”
Arthur nods fiercely, kissing Merlin again and again until they’re just licking the insides of each other’s mouths and rutting against each other, touching whatever skin they can. Arthur keeps tugging at the fabric of the shirt, palming Merlin through it but Merlin wants more, wants to feel Arthur more, wants his hands on his skin. So Merlin breaks the kiss and tries to sit up to take off the shirt.
Arthur’s quicker though, and in a second he’s pinning Merlin’s wrists on the bed and moving in between Merlin’s spread legs. “No, no leave it on.” Arthur mumbles against Merlin’s neck in between bites and kisses and does he want to drive Merlin insane?
Merlin moans and nods frantically. “Okay, okay-sure.”
And they just fit together, rubbing and thrusting until it’s too much and not enough and when Arthur finally lets go of Merlin’s wrist, both their hands immediately start pulling and tugging at their underwear until it’s gone (Merlin’s) or just pushed down and out of their way (Arthur’s.)
Arthur is mumbling against his neck: “I missed you, I missed you. Feels so good, you feel so good - look so good in my shirt.” It’s driving Merlin more and more towards the edge until all he can really do is rut against Arthur and groan his name over and over again until he comes in between their bodies.
Arthur’s hips stutter and he’s coming too, sticky and warm and Merlin can’t help but moan out loud at the sensation again.
“I’m glad you came home early,” Merlin mumbles; worn out and happy.
---
“So you’ve been wearing my shirts since January?” Arthur repeats slowly.
Merlin nods.
“But only sometimes - only when it’s very cold?”
Merlin nods again, slower this time.
“But now you’re worried it’s turned into a thing.”
“Well, I can control it. I can stop… I think.”
Arthur frowns, “Well, Merlin, in all honesty, as far as things go, especially when it concerns you, this one’s pretty tame so I’m sure we can learn to live with it.” Arthur folds up the newspaper he was reading before Merlin burst in the kitchen with a babbled confession about shirts and sexual deviancy.
Merlin lets out a small breath he didn’t know he was holding and settles back into his chair.
Arthur gets up and kisses Merlin’s forehead before going to the living room.
Arthur stops in the doorway “Well it’s-” he asks, “It’s only shirts, right? Not my fancy button-ups or anything?”
Merlin rolls his eyes at Arthur’s back and pours himself another cup of tea. “Just shirts, don’t worry about your more expensive clothes.”
“Good,” Arthur nods, “And stop rolling your eyes at me. I’m not the one with the thing here.”
Merlin splutters and Arthur turns around to with the sole purpose to smirk. “Well-o” Merlin says eloquently, “Well, after last night I’m pretty sure you’re the one with the thing for my thing! So there!”
Arthur flushes bright red before glaring and stalking off.
Merlin butters his toast with a grin.
-----
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