Title: Of Socks and Inflatable Bananas
Fandom: Merlin
Character/Pairing: Arthur/Merlin, with surprise!Morgana and surprise!Uther at the end
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 1,582
Summary: For thisissirius  - Merlin/Arthur; socks. Takes place in the fashion!AU verse.
Notes: UM. This was supposed to be a 400 word drabble containing only dialogue, but THEN IT EXPLODED. Not only is this the longest thing I have ever written, it is also the first that includes actual kissing (!) . I blame this on the song "Death of Toshiko" from the Torchwood OST, because I needed so much cheering up after listening to it that I basically wrote almost 1,600 words of MERITLESS SAP (seriously, take the sappiest fic from this fandom, multiply it by 8,000, and this fic will still be worse). I'M SORRY thisissirius . OK, this fic takes place in Merlin's flat on Christmas Day, one year after Merlin and Arthur have gotten together (IN A BOYFRIENDS SORT OF WAY) and all that. (Also: the Pendragons usually vacation at their summer house in France each Christmas. THIS IS A (SORT OF) IMPORTANT FACT.) Enjoy! (IF YOU CAN.)





“Wow, Merlin. Um. Thanks for the…” Arthur had no idea what they were, really. The box in front of him contained two roughly tube shaped slips of what appeared to be wool. They were an absolutely garish shade of green, decorated by unattractive masses of what looked like brown paint, and randomly placed red buttons.

Basically, they looked like leg warmers made by some kid in a third world country who couldn’t knit his way out of a paper bag. Except one end of the tubes was knit – no sewn, with a sewing machine, oh good God – shut. “Uh, oven mitts.”

“Oven mitts?” Merlin looked completely baffled, as if Arthur had suggested that the sky was orange, or something equally ridiculous. “They’re socks! You put your feet in there, see?”

“Yes, Merlin, I know how to put socks on. And – wait. You got me socks for Christmas?”

Merlin turned a rather fetching shade of pink and picked at one of the many stray threads on the worn sofa. “I told Gwen that I wanted to get you something special this year, and she said to offer you ‘something from the heart’. So I thought maybe making you something, you know, handmade would be nice, and Gwen offered to teach me how to knit. But then, I didn’t want to make you a scarf, because – well, I know you have a…sensitive neck.”

Arthur muffled a snort with a loud cough and rubbed rather indiscreetly at an – ahem, ‘sensitive spot’ near his collar bone. Merlin muttered something that ended in “…not my fault you’re insatiable” and turned an even deeper shade of red.

“Right, um, where was I? Oh, yes. You have a sensitive neck, and I didn’t know if the wool would irritate it, or something, and you never seem to wear scarves, so I thought socks would be better. They were tube socks at first, because you’re always complaining about the marble floors at your place, and I thought they would be warmer. Gwen told me it was a bad idea, which it kind of turned out to be since I poked a hole through one of the little, loopy things, and had to fix it with my mum’s sewing machine, and just ended up changing them into regular socks. But they turned out OK in the end! I even decorated them!”

“With what, exactly?”

“Reindeer! I painted them on the other night, and then used glue for the buttons. They’re all Rudolphs, by the way – you know, with the red buttons for their noses. Because you seemed to get really emotional over that movie we saw about him at Gwen’s house –”

“I was not emotional! I had something in my eye!”

“Oh, I’m sure. So, um…d’you like them?”

Arthur couldn’t say no. Merlin looked so damn hopeful, it’d be like kicking a puppy. Sighing, he attempted to put them on his feet. One was too small, and the other sagged rather tragically at the ankle. “It would be marginally better if they fit,” Arthur began sarcastically, “But – I love them. I mean, they’re from you.”

Merlin’s answering smile could have lit up a Christmas tree, and dammit, Arthur really needed to stop thinking in such ridiculous metaphors. He just couldn’t seem to help himself when it came to Merlin, though. Merlin’s eyes reminded him of sea glass, and the sky after rain. His hair was surprisingly soft, and in the morning it was all fluffy and stuck up in seven different directions, and though he’d never say it out loud ever (lest he be mocked for fucking life when Morgana inevitably found out), it was just about the most adorable thing Arthur had ever seen. And his lips, God. They were just so…pink (like cherry blossoms, he thought), and what was the word, luscious, yes, luscious, and – oh. Merlin had apparently started talking again while Arthur was busy rhapsodizing like a bleeding girl.

“ – because I was really worried about them. I mean, I know I’m a horrible knitter, and some of the paint started falling off last night, so –”

“Merlin.”

“Hmm?” Merlin had been looking mildly dazed all morning, and he was wearing one of Arthur’s old sweatshirts, and his hair was all…tufty, like he’d just rolled out of bed, or something, and God that really shouldn’t have been as hot as Arthur obviously though it was. Arthur had been resisting the overwhelming urge to just jump him through his entire monologue about the socks, so really, he couldn’t be blamed for what happened next. It was all Merlin’s fault for looking so delectable. Merlin and his insanely adorable hair tufts.

Arthur launched himself at the other boy, and crushed their mouths together. It was fairly awkward and – as often happened to people who attempted spontaneous kissing leaps and were not starring in a cheesy, romantic comedy – somehow resulted in Merlin overbalancing and sending them both tumbling to the ground; Arthur’s back landing on something extremely uncomfortable.

But then Merlin laughed, low and throaty, and licked at the hollow of Arthur’s throat, and Arthur could have been lying on a bed of nails for all he cared. The other boy smirked and said, “You could’ve just asked, you know,” before lowering his lips onto Arthur’s and kissing him properly. Merlin mouth was unspeakably warm, and he tasted of peppermint, and hot chocolate. His lips molded perfectly against Arthur’s own, and he kept making these breathy, little moans into Arthur’s mouth.

Arthur felt like he was coming unraveled, like with each passing second Merlin was tugging at his heart, or some other equally important organ. Not that he’d every say that out loud, or, you know, anything. But he kind of wanted to, a little. OK, a lot. For some reason or other, Arthur felt the overwhelming urge to just say something.

Gently, he pushed Merlin back a bit; Merlin’s eyes immediately clouding over with worry. “What’s wrong, is everything OK?”

Arthur quickly shook his head. “No, everything’s fine. I just wanted to say…” Arthur had planned on ending that sentence with something like, ‘you are my world’, except not because he remembered hearing something similar from the trailer for that one movie about sparkly vampires on a baseball team, or whatever, and it’d been hella creepy. Or ‘you are my life support’, except that sounded weird, and like something you’d hear on a medical soap, and also hella creepy. Something that started in ‘you are my’, anyway. What came out was: “I love you.”

There was a terrifying stretch of silence before Merlin smiled (so wide, and so bright that it could’ve lit up a whole block of Christmas trees), and Arthur’s world came back into focus. “Wow,” Merlin murmured, “I’m pretty sure that’s the best present I’m getting this year.”

Arthur shrugged, “You never know, maybe I bought you an island.”

Merlin scrunched up his nose and tilted his head sideways, as if considering the two. “Nah,” he said, “Wouldn’t even begin to compare.” He smiled once more and brushed his lips against Arthur’s, breathing out, “I love you too.” And then it was Arthur’s smile that could have lit up an entire fucking block of Christmas trees, and OK, he really needed to just drop that damn metaphor already.

Merlin gave him a quick peck on the lips, before heaving himself upwards. Arthur groaned and sat up as well (his back thanked him, apparently he’d been lying on the box containing the Rudolph socks). Merlin had dragged Arthur’s gift out from under the tree and was attempting to break through the giant gob of scotch tape Arthur had used to assist himself in the wrapping of said gift. Leaning his head back on the sofa, Arthur closed his eyes and murmured sleepily, “Tell me what you think.” His internal clock was not taking being up at six a.m. very well.

“Um,” Merlin said eventually, “…a giant, inflatable banana?”

Arthur’s eyes snapped open, and he stared at the inflatable fruit with something akin to horror in his eyes. “Oh, shit.”

Meanwhile, somewhere in the South of France…

Morgana ripped the wrapping paper off of Arthur’s box eagerly. Strange, his boxes usually weren’t so small. Ah well, it was guaranteed to be interesting at – a box of candles? She held the box up to the light, but no, they didn’t appear to contain bits of sausage (long story), and weren’t even remotely penis shaped (longer story). It appeared Arthur had been so wrapped up in buying Merlin’s gift this year – “Morgana, it needs to be something meaningful enough that it looks like I tried, but simple enough that it looks like I didn’t try too much. How’s a watch sound? No, that’s terrible – oh, wait I have a genius idea!” – that he’d just…forgotten. Not that she didn’t support their relationship, but honestly. Christmas had always been their time, the Arthur and Morgana honorary best friends holiday of the year.

Trying not to feel too hurt, Morgana unceremoniously dropped the box on the sofa and went off to the kitchen (she was definitely not stomping – that would just be childish) to make herself a cup of nice, soothing tea.

She was just putting the kettle on the stove as Uther entered the kitchen, holding a glass of water in one hand, and a pair of black, silk boxers in the other.

“Morgana, do you have any insight into why my son has given me a pair of incorrectly monogrammed boxers?”