A/N: I don't even know why I write anything but fanfic anymore… I leave an excerpt of my NaNoNovel on my blog and I'm all angsty about it because what if no one likes it? You know how many people replied? No one that's how many. It broke my heart a little. And then I come here and everything is just fluffy goodness and my heart is all one piece again! You guys are the BEST reviewers!

'Ah Merlin, there you are. Listen, when you've finished your breakfast and Arthur can spare you for a bit I really nee…'

'Sorry Gaius!' Merlin who is really Arthur says and he flays his hand about as if he is about to burst into a speech or a power ballad. Both himself and Gaius stare at it for a moment before he pulls a face of disbelief and quickly tucks the offending arm behind his back. 'M- I mean, Arthur needs me to eh… fetch something.'

'Yes why-' Gaius's eyes shift to the closed door behind which he believes Arthur is still waiting. 'Why did he burst in here in his bedclothes this morning? Is everything all right?' He leans a little closer and Arthur automatically does the same. 'It's not a big spider in his bed again is it? I remember when he was a little b-'

'No not at all!' Arthur says quickly, his ears going slightly red. 'No spiders, just… you know. Stuff. Anyway. Must dash. Back soon!'

Arthur stomps up the stairs to his bedroom fervently hoping Merlin hadn't heard a word of that exchange. Honestly. He was five years old at the time. And it was a really big spider.

He shifts in Merlin's shirt and absentmindedly scratches his chest as he rounds the corner to his chambers. A servant walks toward him and in true Arthur fashion he goes to completely ignore him but;

'Bedbugs biting you Merlin?' the servant laughs while clapping him hard on the shoulder. 'Try bathing. Every month or so.' The servant merrily continues on his way without waiting for a reply, leaving Arthur fuming before he realizes the man is not talking to him. He is talking to Merlin. And then he rubs his shoulder because that shove really hurt.

Arthur enters his quarters, slamming the door perhaps a little harder than truly necessary and stalks toward his closet. Paying no mind to the mess he is making, he pulls out one shirt after another until he finds what he is looking for. It is old, not as white as it used to be, a little wrinkled and would be too tight for him if he wasn't stuck in this-.

He closes his eyes and pinches the bridge of his nose, unwilling to finish the thought, before shrugging out of Merlin's itchy shirt and pulling the worn, but still infinitely softer one over his head. He then adjusts the red little scarf - why does he wear that thing anyway?- and starts rummaging around for clothes he can give to Merlin.

When he finds what he needs, Arthur marches out of the door and is fumbling with the lock, his arms being full of clothes as they are, when;

'You. Boy.' He freezes in place before plastering a polite smile on his face and turning toward the familiar voice.

'Sire,' he says with a deferential nod.

'Open that door, I need to speak to my son.'

Arthur is about to feel a little indignant at that, since he is holding all this stuff and his father's hands are clearly free but then remembers he has bigger problems. 'He is not here, Milord.'

'Oh?' Uther says, not really acknowledging him but rather adjusting the strap of his sword belt. 'Where is he this early?'

'Eh- He, he is-' his eye falls on a drapery depicting a rearing horse so he says; 'He is with his horse,' before cringing.

At this the King does look at him. 'With his horse,' he repeats, a note of disbelief in his voice.

'Yes. It was lame last night and he wanted to make sure it would be all right.'

'I see. Well,' Uther already turns away. 'Tell him to come to me as soon as possible.'

'Yes Sire,' Arthur says to his retreating back and stares after him for quite some time before he remembers what he is doing and runs down the stairs again.

'Merlin,' Gaius tells him when he reenters the physician's quarters. 'Why is Arthur still in your bedroom?'

'He… didn't want to wander around the castle in his nightshirt again.' Arthur tries to shuffle past him but the old man is surprisingly agile.

'You haven't told me why he wandered in here in his nightshirt in the first place,' he says, eyeing the boy. 'Are you in some kind of trouble again?'

For a moment Arthur thinks of what Merlin would have said in a situation like that and he smiles, shrugging, and says; 'Am I not always?', before squeezing past the man, and disappearing into Merlin's room.

'There you are,' Merlin says. 'What took you so long?' He is stretched out on the thin mattress, one hand tucked behind his head, the other on his stomach, legs crossed at the ankles.

'Get off the bed Merlin,' Arthur tells him, dumping the clothes at his feet. 'This is no time to be lazing about.'

'All right, don't get your neckerchief in a twist,' he grins and rises from the bed. When he starts to pull off the nightshirt to change into the clothes on the bed, Arthur throws his arms up, telling Merlin to;

'Show a little respect for my privacy, will you!'

Merlin peaks his head (well, Arthur's) through the nightshirt again and cocks an eyebrow;

'Would you like to look away perhaps? If you are shy?' he asks and Arthur splutters;

'Of course not! It's my own b-. I just mean-. Shut up.'

'I see.'

'I said-'

'I heard. But really,' he pulls the shirt over his head and his voice sounds a bit muffled when he continues with; 'What are you going to do? Put yourself in the stocks?' When he reappears he is met with a face full of cloth.

'Oh, thank you Sire.' A grin splits his face nearly in two. 'You don't have to help me dress.' When his head resurfaces once again, there is a finger pointing very close to his nose.

'You're enjoying this aren't you, Merlin. Think you can have a bit of fun at my expense because you think I can't do anything to you right now, but-'

'Well, you can't though can you?' Merlin says and he knows he's not helping himself but he just can't resist. 'Would you make me muck out the stables? Looking like this?' He wiggles a finger at his face, before sidestepping Arthur and grabbing the breeches off the bed. He hops around on one foot while pulling them on and Arthur turns redder and redder by the second.

'You.' He fumes. 'This.' He waves his hand at Merlin, then at himself and at Merlin again. 'Will not last... forever. And then!' His own face now folds into a mad grin.

'Then what?' Merlin teases, still trying to fit his other leg into the trousers.

Arthur brings his face very close to Merlin and hisses; 'Latrine…' Merlin's eyes widen and he freezes on the spot, standing on one leg, the other half way down the trouser pipe. '…assignment.' Arthur finishes malevolently.

'You wouldn't.'

'A month.'

Merlin straightens. 'Fine. I'll stop enjoying myself. Because heaven forbid Merlin has a little fun.' He shoves his arms through the long brown coat, steps into the boots and runs a hand through his hair to flatten it. 'I'll start at the library. Maybe you should stay here with Gaius. Safest bet. Otherwise someone might actually make you do some work.'

'Merlin…'

'All right, all right. Sorry. Still…'

'Can't anyway. Your father wants to see m… I mean my father wants to see y… The King wants to see us!'

'Oh.'

'Yes. Oh. I'm glad that wipes the smirk off your face. Let's go. Just nod and be noncommittal with anything he says.'