WOO I finished my little ficlet for @merlin-fic-server’s mini challenge! the theme was flowers, which I interpreted very loosely lmao. this is wholly self-indulgent--I just think Merlin should own a garden :>
[read on ao3; word count: 4k]
The sound of Arthur’s voice gave Merlin a bit of a start, and he nearly jerked the strawberry plant he was very carefully carving out of the earth with a force that would have torn the roots. He didn’t look up, letting the question hang in the air while he continued to focus.
Merlin rolled his eyes and set his spade down, falling backwards into a lying position so he could look up at Arthur.
“What does it look like I’m doing?” he replied petulantly.
“Laying in the mud,” Arthur said, giving one of those smug little grins of his that always made Merlin want to smack him over the head.
“Well, there’s your answer then,” Merlin said with his own smug grin. He returned to a sitting position, shoulders hunched over so he could get a good angle in the dirt, and continued digging up the strawberry plant in question. It finally came free, roots in-tact, and Merlin gave a much more pleasant smile. “Arthur, why don’t you make yourself useful and grab one of those pots I have sitting over there?” He gestured vaguely to his right, and he heard Arthur snort.
Arthur had appeared at a particularly weird time, all things considered. It was the middle of the day, and the weather was practically perfect—a bit hot, if you asked Merlin, but the sky was clear, which Arthur always insisted was good sparring weather. If not sparring with the knights, he at the very least had plenty to do in his role as king, the least of which involved visiting his retired manservant in the Lower Town.
“I’ve blocked off the entire afternoon to visit you, Merlin, and the first thing you do is put me to work?” Arthur asked, but Merlin heard him trudging over towards the little pile of pots he’d accumulated anyway. “You didn’t even say hello.”
“Neither did you,” Merlin pointed out. What a wonderful thing that was, Arthur coming to visit him just to visit him. He held out his hand and Arthur dutifully placed a pot in it. Fancy that.
“No, I suppose not. But I did ask you what you were doing, which I still don’t have an answer to.”
“Well perhaps I expected you to use your bloody eyes.” Merlin delicately settled the strawberry plant into the pot, filling in the empty space with some of the moist dirt he had mixed together in a little bucket. He packed it in delicately, and when he was finished he finally turned to face Arthur with the pot in his hands. “Ta da.”
Arthur just blinked at him.
“Jesus, Arthur, I’m gardening. Are you really so fancy and proper that you haven’t heard of gardening?” Merlin rolled his eyes. “Specifically, I’m transplanting some of these strawberry plants into pots to give away. I have too many of them.” He gestured towards the rest of the strawberry patch, which was simply taking up far too much space for his liking. Not that he didn’t love strawberries, of course. But what grassy area he owned behind his home was rather small (good gods! he was a homeowner!), and he had other things he also wanted to plant, thank you very much. “I think I might start a plant business.”
“It’s hardly a business if you’re just giving everything away,” Arthur argued.
“Maybe I’ll sell them for really cheap, then. Not that I need the coin. You’ve given me more than I could possibly ever spend.” He set the pot down and picked up his spade, set to dig up another plant. “I truly do have so many plants. I’d even give you one, if I thought you could keep it alive.”
“Where would you even plant it? The training grounds?” Merlin grinned that shit-eating grin again and started digging. “Fetch me another pot?”
“Can’t you just magic another pot over here?” Arthur groaned.
“It’s literally three feet to your right, Arthur.”
Arthur huffed, but dutifully went over and cleverly grabbed three more pots.
“I suppose I don’t get it,” he said when he returned, flopping down on the ground next to Merlin. Merlin bit back a chuckle—some poor sap was going to have to spend ages getting dirt out of their king’s clothes, just as he used to do. Though, the rumor was that Arthur still hadn’t found a new manservant, which meant that it might even be him trying to scrub the mud out. Wouldn’t that be a sight!
“Gardening,” Arthur clarified. “I mean, I know what gardening is. Gwen keeps a small box outside her window—besides the point. I guess I just don’t understand what about it is appealing. To you.”
“I like growing things,” Merlin said simply.
“You know that isn’t my point.”
“And what, exactly, is your point?”
