He’s tugging Merlin’s ear in a fit of what some might call “desperation to touch”— but which Arthur would call Boyish and Manly Taunting— when he feels a small divot between his forefinger and thumb.
“Ow!” Merlin protests as Arthur draws him in for a closer look. “Ow ow ow!”
“Don’t be such a girl,” Arthur says automatically, but he’s too preoccupied by the hole in Merlin’s earlobe to really mean it. Though he ought not to mean it, or Morgana will trounce him in front of all his knights and leave him humiliated for the rest of his days. In her words.
“What the hell is this?” Arthur asks, going for teasing and winding up somewhere around affronted-there’s-a-part-of-Merlin-he-doesn’t-know. There are actually many parts of Merlin that Arthur doesn’t know, but he does his best not to think about that, in a last ditch effort to preserve his dignity and sanity both.
“Are your ears pierced?” He continues, because Merlin is still making very dramatic ow noises and not answering his question.
Merlin finally swats his hand away and escapes his grip. “Will did them when we were kids.”
Merlin reaches up and smooths his own finger over the hole. “I sort of forgot they were there.”
“How?” Arthur asks, ignoring the guilty twist in his stomach at the mention of Will. “Don’t they hurt?”
“What?” Merlin stares at him, a grin beginning to bloom on his face that tells Arthur he’s just said something prattish. “No! Do you think Morgana walks around in pain all the time?”
“It would certainly explain her personality,” Arthur mutters darkly.
Merlin rolls his eyes at that. “They hurt for the first few months after they were done, but not constantly. They’re healed now.”
“How did they heal like that?” Arthur asks, giving up on princely pompousness. After all, princes aren’t meant to know about things like this, so he supposes he’ll give himself a pass.
“As holes?” Merlin asks, and doesn’t wait for Arthur’s nod. “Well, I kept earrings in them, you see. To keep from closing up.”
Arthur scowls at the teasing lilt of Merlin’s voice. “Shut up, Merlin. It’s not as though I was there when Morgan’s got her ears pierced.”
“I wouldn’t be surprised if you were. You never pay attention to anyone but yourself, after all.”
Arthur’s mouth drops open in offense. “I am a warrior! On the battlefield! I’ll have you know I notice everything!”
Merlin pats him on the back. “Of course you do, sire. Red or blue for today’s tunic?”
“Blue,” Arthur says absentmindedly. A new thought has just entered his head—which, being rare for him, thus demands attention. “Wait. Does that mean you wore earrings? For months?”
Merlin raises an eyebrow at him and helps him pull the tunic over his head. “That is generally what happens when a person pierces their ears, yes.”
Arthur pokes his head out of the neck to find Merlin smiling at him indulgently, as though he’s a child.
“But—“ he wrestles his arms through the sleeves. “What kind?”
“An old pair of my mother’s,” Merlin says slowly, eyeing Arthur as though he’s lost his head. “Is that alright with you?”
“Why don’t you wear them now?” Arthur blurts, and promptly flushes crimson.
Merlin stares at him. Arthur busies himself with the laces of his tunic.
“Not many men wear earrings. It would draw a lot of attention.”
“I thought you liked attention,” Arthur says bitterly, thinking of the flowers Merlin gives out willy-nilly and the bright beam Arthur stupidly thought was reserved for him, once upon a time.
Merlin snorts. “Like you, you mean?”
Arthur steps into the trousers Merlin holds out for him. He keeps his gaze on the ground. Something about what he’s asked feels oddly vulnerable, and he’s not sure what to do with it. He sort of wishes he could erase this whole conversation.
“I got plenty of attention for it as a kid,” Merlin says as he bends to lace up Arthur’s trousers. “Every kid in Ealdor treated me like a chivalric maiden for months.”
Arthur’s nose wrinkles. He’d hate that. In a rare attempt at empathy, he says:
“I understand why you don’t wear them anymore, then.”
“Are you kidding? It was great. Boys did my chores for me for weeks! I didn’t have to lift a finger.” Merlin grins slyly and looks up at Arthur through his lashes. “Hey, you think if I wore earrings now you’d give me a day off?”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” Arthur chokes out, and quickly hauls Merlin to his feet in a bid to get him away from…sensitive areas. “Beauty hasn’t earned you a day off before, and it certainly won’t now.”
Merlin pauses his attempt to wriggle out of Arthur’s grip. Arthur clamps his mouth shut and wishes for death.
“You’re passable,” Arthur interrupts, heart pounding, “when you’re not speaking, anyway. A pair of sparkly dangles won’t change that. Is what I mean. Meant.”
Merlin studies him for a moment, gaze steady and dark. Arthur fights the urge to fidget.
Then a slow, evil little smile quirks Merlin’s lips. Arthur looks away. Lips are dangerous.
“I haven’t worn any. You wouldn’t know if they increase my passable beauty or not,” Merlin says.
Arthur doesn’t like where this is going. “That’s—“
“I’ll wear some tomorrow,” Merlin cuts in. “And you can decide if they help my looks or not. And whether it’s enough for a day off.”
Arthur wishes he had never found that hole in Merlin’s earlobe. He wished he hadn’t been so determined to engage in Boyish and Manly Taunting. He especially wishes he’d been smart enough to keep his mouth shut.
“I’ll ask Morgana if I can borrow a pair,” Merlin continues. “Explain the situation.”
Which is preposterous, because servants should not be borrowing jewellery from the King’s Ward. It’s also bone chilling, because if Morgana puts two and two together—which she no doubt will, because she’s Morgana—then Arthur will be obliged to shuffle off this mortal coil.
“It’ll be fun! Now hurry up with the belt, sire. You’ve a long day ahead.”
Somehow, Arthur thinks tomorrow will be longer.
for @merthurmicrofic ‘s prompt hole | 1,040 words