Work Text:
Merlin wakes up as the sun bleeds through the blinds. Arthur’s arms are wrapped around his torso and his head is rested upon his chest. Merlin feels the warmth of joy inside him that comes whenever the fact that the life he leads now was a dream a few years ago creeps up on him. Arthur’s hair has grown in the past few weeks, he was going to get a haircut in mid March but had a meeting and was forced to cancel, now, with lockdown in place, he is left with hair that is, in his own words, “far too long to be in any way practical”. (In Merlin’s words it is “really quite attractive”)
Merlin reaches his arm around Arthur’s back and runs his hand through the long hair, revelling in the peace of the moment. Arthur wakes up gradually and, when he does, shifts his body so that he is hugging Merlin more closely.
Merlin chuckles “Morning.”
“Mmph.”
“Very articulate.”
“Piss off.”
Merlin can feel the rise and fall of Arthur’s bare chest as he breathes beside him.
“What day is it?” Arthur grumbles, his voice partially absorbed by Merlin’s pyjama shirt.
“It’s, erm,” He pauses to work it out, “It’s Saturday.”
“No work, then.”
“No work.”
“Hug?”
Merlin rolls onto his side and wraps his arms round Arthur, placing one on the small of his back and the other on the back of his head. Arthur has one arm round Merlin’s shoulders and the other halfway up his back. Their legs tangle together. Arthur kisses Merlin on the cheek but the reaction he receives isn’t entirely what he was expecting.
“Aah.” Merlin practically yells.
“What?”
“Stubble. You have... significant amounts of stubble on your face.”
“I know... it’s been there a while.”
“Yeah, but there’s more of it now.”
“That is how it works.”
“I know that, I’m not an idiot.”
“Debatable.”
“But it was prickly.”
“Awww,” Arthur sticks out his bottom lip into a pout and ruffles the top of Merlin’s hair, “It was prickly, was it?”
“Pillock.”
Arthur turns slightly more serious, “Do you want me to shave it off?”
“No, no, it’s fine, it’s nice, it was just... unexpected.” He looks into Arthur’s eyes, “Suits you.”
Arthur leans forward and kisses him. The hand that Merlin had on Arthur’s head threads itself through his hair and the one on his bare back pulls Arthur toward him.
When they break apart, Merlin leans forward and presses their foreheads together. “You didn’t let me finish my sentence, I was going to say ‘suits you, fits with the whole tramp look you seem to be going for’. You’ve got the long hair, the stubble,” He inhales audibly through his nose, “Ugh, the smell.”
Arthur laughs and moves quickly to hold Merlin down and force his armpit into his face. “Smelly, is it, Merlin?”
Merlin struggles against him, trying to escape and get out from under his sweaty grip, but he’s also laughing far too hard to be able to do anything in any way significant. “Get off, you bellend , get off.”
“I don’t think I’ll listen to you if you talk to me like that.” But he does move his arm. Except, rather than ‘get off’ as Merlin asks, he begins to tickle Merlin’s chest.
“Agh, ah, stop, stop.” Merlin giggles and writhes under his arms.
Finally he manages to push Arthur off, he subsequently climbs on top of him to tickle back, but it doesn’t really last long, Arthur quickly overpowers Merlin and pins him to the bed, holding his arms down above his head. Merlin looks up at Arthur, his hair falling down all around his face, and the sunlight making it shine golden and he grins, goofily, Arthur really is beautiful (albeit really bloody irritating) . Arthur smiles mellowly back at him, his happy mouth surrounded by rough unkempt stubble. He leans down and softly kisses Merlin, who reciprocates, Arthur’s hair tickling his cheeks. He removes his hands from Arthur’s and lifts them to hold the face of his boyfriend, running his thumbs back and forth over the rough stubble. Arthur lifts his face away and smiles down at Merlin for the few seconds it takes for the latter to open his eyes.
He leans down and whispers “I love you.” His lips brush the skin on Merlin’s ear when he speaks.
“Back at ya, mate.”
Arthur chuckles into Merlin’s cheek then lifts himself up and rolls off of Merlin so that they lie side by side. “We should probably get up.”
“Why? We have nowhere to be.”
“Yes, but it’s healthier to maintain your circadian-“
“Fucking circadian rhythms, poppycock if you ask me.”
“I’m not and anyway, I’m hungry, so I’m getting up anyway.”
“You do that. I’m staying here.”
“You’re going to make me eat breakfast all alone?” Arthur turns to look at Merlin with a pout and puppy eyes.
“Oh, you really are a stubborn wanker, alright, I’ll get up.”
“Thank youu.” Arthur says in a sing song voice before practically leaping out of bed.
Merlin giggles at the way his golden hair swings as he skips through the corridor then gets up. In the kitchen, he wraps his arms around Arthur’s waist and rests his chin on his shoulder.
“What’s for breakfast?”
“I thought you weren’t hungry.”
“Prick. What’s for breakfast?”
“I’ve told you, I’m not going to listen to you if you-“ He’s cut off by Merlin blowing a very large raspberry on the side of his neck. “Eurgh, that’s rank!”
Merlin sprints away and Arthur chases him into the living room, where he tackles him onto the sofa, holds him down, lifts his shirt up and blows a massive raspberry squarely on Merlin’s stomach.
“And you said I was rank?”
“I didn’t start it.” Arthur says pointedly and walks back to the kitchen.
“What’s for breakfast?” Merlin calls back to him.
“None of your beeswax”
It turns out that ‘none of Merlin’s beeswax’ is actually porridge, a nice large bowlful with golden syrup drizzled on top. Arthur shakes his head disapprovingly at the sheer volume of syrup Merlin practically pours onto his. Merlin sticks his tongue out in response.
“I’m going to cut my hair.” Arthur announces a few seconds later.
“You are not.”
“I am. Hair this long is bloody annoying, it gets in my eyes and my food and, well, everything. It was already far too long before all this,” He gestures vaguely around, “If only I didn’t have to cancel my appointment, but now it’s just fucking inexcusable. Look at it” He lifts up a few strands and holds them out towards Merlin. “And you said it earlier, I look like a tramp.”
“I was joking, even still, no one is going to see you. Anyway, I like it.”
“You do?”
“Yeah, it sort of frames your face more, means I can see your eyes and cheekbones and stuff, and you look less like you go to a public boarding school. Your normal haircut makes you look like an Eton boy.”
“Maybe because it’s the haircut I had back when I was a public boarding school student...” Arthur suggests.
“Ignoring them fact you’ve had the same haircut since before you were a teenager, yeah, probably, but don’t remind me of that, the only way I’m managing to stay in a relationship with you is erase the fact that you’re dangerously close to being a Tory’s wet dream from my mind.”
“Except I’m not straight.”
“Yeah, I said dangerously close.”
“And that’s the only thing keeping you with me? Not my wondrous kissing skills?” He lifts Merlin’s hand from the table flamboyantly and plants a small kiss onto it.
“Well, maybe that helps a bit. Anyway, we’re off topic, please keep your hair as it is, it’s nice, and I can only imagine the disaster that would come with you trying to cut your own hair.” Merlin looks up to the ceiling, as if picturing the scene. “You’d probably end up with half an ear left and an uneven buzz cut. I’d rather not be in self isolation with a skinhead.”
“Fine, I won’t cut it, but if it gets any longer I’m going to have to have a man bun.”
“Oh for Pete’s sake, I just can’t win with you!” Merlin laughs.