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It was a quiet summer evening in Camelot.
Merlin was helping Arthur prepare for bed as per usual, while the king chatted with his manservant endlessly about what tiresome things went on in his kingdom. The fire crackled joyfully in the fireplace, and the room felt cozy and lived in, despite having just been thoroughly cleaned today. It was these quiet moments just between the two of them that Merlin savored: moments when there were no threats to the kingdom, no assassinations, no magic beasts out to kill them. Moments like these made Merlin smile because it was here that they could just be.
They were two sides of the same coin, after all.
He must have actually been smiling when Arthur turned around for Merlin to slip his shirt over his head because Arthur looked at him funny. “What’s got you all smiley? I thought you didn’t care for the plans for another grain silo.”
“‘Course not,” Merlin laughed. “I’m just...happy.” He nodded for Arthur to hold his arms up and the king gave him another look before obliging. Merlin slid the fabric over his head as he did every night, but with Arthur glowing gold in the firelight and looking as if the weight of the world had melted away, at that moment, it was so much more intimate and special. Arthur’s head popped up from the neck hole, hair tousled and looking at Merlin as if he were a strange animal.
“Why are you happy?”
Merlin raised an eyebrow as he ran his fingers through Arthur’s hair to get it into a more kingly fashion, just in case someone popped in. “Am I not allowed to be happy?”
“Don’t twist my words, Merlin.” Arthur pointed a finger at him, but he was smiling. Merlin never cared about his threats, anyway. “Did something good happen today?”
“No, Arthur. I’m just content. At this moment, everything is just...good. And it makes me smile.”
Arthur looked at a loss for words as Merlin smoothed out his linen sleep shirt. Merlin skated his hands over Arthur’s torso, tugging the fabric so it lay just right on his broad shoulders, and then down to the neckline where he finished off the laces with a little knot he knew he’d have to pick apart tomorrow. His hands traveled - as usual - down Arthur’s sides until he noticed a stain he must have forgotten and went to pull at the fabric to get a better look.
Merlin would have succeeded were it not for the way Arthur jolted at his gentle probing touch and pulled out of his grip. “Merlin-” he started, suddenly looking flushed.
“You all right?” Merlin asked in concern, his brows furrowed as he looked the king over. “I was just looking at the stain I missed-”
“Yes, my apologies. Continue.” Arthur said stiffly, looking rather uncomfortable.
“Oh. Okay.” Merlin glanced up at him again before reaching to pluck at the area around the stain. It must have been wine… it was deep purple on the tan linen...but how had Arthur gotten it near his armpit?
Merlin was about to ask as he smoothed the fabric back down when Arthur positively jumped and danced away, blushing a million shades of red.
Pieces fell into place as Merlin took in Arthur’s uncharacteristically embarrassed expression and the vulnerable way he was hugging himself and biting his lip.
“Arthur, are you...ticklish?”
“No!” Arthur immediately said, turning an even darker shade of red.
“You are!” Merlin laughed, unable to help himself as the king – a grown man – pouted like a child.
“I am not, Merlin!”
“Right.” Merlin sniffed, went over to Arthur’s side, and began fixing his shirt again, purposefully skating his fingers down Arthur’s sides. The king tried valiantly to hold still but in the end, he held up his hands in surrender, a small choked laugh bubbling out.
“Merlin! Stop! Stop, gods, Merlin!”
Merlin did, in fact, not stop. Grinning, he went for Arthur’s belly and then ducked the flailing hands to attack his back and neck, all while the king laughed in the purest and lighthearted way Merlin had ever heard from him. He ignored Arthur’s pleas to stop and pushed him back into his bed to better hold him still. Unfortunately, it only served to give Arthur leverage and he used his weight and training to flip Merlin onto the bed next to him where he straddled his manservant and began mercilessly tickling him instead.
Merlin, on his part, was not at all prepared for the turn of events. He sat shocked for a good few seconds while Arthur tickled him before finally, his nerves jumped to attention and he screeched at the feeling of being tickled.
“Stop! Ah! Arthur-”
“Not so fun anymore, is it, Merlin?” Arthur teased, landing a particularly shiver-inducing tickle to Merlin’s waist. The servant let out an abrupt laugh and fought a little harder for his revenge. He managed to flip them back over so he was on top of Arthur and they grappled with their hands interlocked, both panting and both smiling pure, wide smiles. Eventually, Merlin used his position to his advantage and brought his leg up a little to drag his knee down Arthur’s now exposed stomach. That sent Arthur into fits of wheezing and Merlin took the opportunity to grab both of Arthur’s wrists and pin them above his head so he could attack the rest of him with his other hand. Arthur squirmed and wiggled but he was so distracted by the tickling that he couldn't bring himself to fight his manservant.
By the end of it, both of them were laughing so hard that there were tears streaming out of their eyes and their cheeks ached from smiling. Their pants and residual laughter rang loud in the air as periodically one would go back in for a quick nudge or a gentle swipe of fingers and get them started all over again. They were so caught up in their raging tickle fight that they didn’t notice the door creak open.
A throat cleared and both of them looked up, Merlin mid reaching toward Arthur’s sides from where he sat on his chest while Arthur’s hands were poised at Merlin’s waist.
It was Leon and he was biting back a smile as he took in the scene: the king and his manservant caught having a tickle fight on the king’s bed was not something you saw every day.
“Um,” Arthur began most eloquently and then cleared his throat to begin again. “Leon. How may I help you?”
“Apologies, my Lord. I...I was just checking in on you. I heard some shouting as I passed by and thought you might be in trouble.” He glanced pointedly at the two of them – Merlin was still sitting on the King of Camelot, for crying out loud – and then smiled widely before dipping into a slight bow. “But it seems like everything is under control. Enjoy your evening, Sire; Merlin.”
He left the two of them staring dumbly at the space in front of the door that he had vacated.
Arthur groaned. “I’m not gonna be able to look him in the eye after this,”
Merlin grinned down at Arthur. “You know, part of me thinks he isn’t surprised that his king likes being tickled.”
That didn’t seem to help as Arthur shoved Merlin sideways so he flopped unceremoniously onto the bed. “Kings aren't supposed to allow themselves to be tickled, Merlin.”
“I think it’s cute,” Merlin blurted from his place squished on his side.
Arthur gave him a strange look that might have been a combination of surprise and burning embarrassment. “Cute? Merlin-”
“What? You have to admit, being a tough king taken down by being tickled is kind of adorable!”
Arthur scrubbed his face with a hand but Merlin thought he saw a hint of a smile and a blush behind it. “I’m not adorable,” he stated half-heartedly.
Merlin grinned and sat up. “Mm. I beg to differ. You’re blushing rather spectacularly right now.”
“I am not!”
“You are!” Merlin laughed and scooted closer. And then, because he obviously had a death wish, he pinched Arthur’s cheeks.
Arthur’s face was hot beneath his fingers and the king batted him away, huffing. “Merlin! I am your king–”
Death by Arthur. There were worse ways to go, Merlin decided, as he tackled Arthur onto his back. Arthur gaped at him in surprise as Merlin leaned forward and, in a fit of confidence, brushed Arthur’s sweaty hair away from his blushing face. He let his hands linger, soaking in the way Arthur was starting to look incredibly flustered.
Arthur really was beautiful, all sharp jaws and soft eyes and smooth muscles, his hair messy and face flushed and gripping onto Merlin’s hips-
“Merlin,” Arthur said quietly and Merlin couldn't help staring deeply into his eyes even as Arthur nudged him with his thumb. Or, now that Merlin thought about it, it was more of a gentle brushing along Merlin’s hipbone.
Taking a chance, Merlin trailed his hand up Arthur’s arm to his shoulder and then to his jaw and cheek. Arthur’s eyes fluttered closed and Merlin wondered if he was ticklish on his face, too. No, that couldn't be it because Arthur was moving into Merlin’s touch, not away from it. No, he was…enjoying it.
Merlin wetted his lips and then said hoarsely, “Arthur, can I–”
Arthur didn't even need to open his eyes to reply with a murmured “Yes” and that was all the permission Merlin needed.
He leaned down and gently pressed his lips to Arthur’s, who responded immediately and eagerly, pulling Merlin in by the neck and kissing him slowly, eyes still shut against the world. It only lasted a few seconds before Merlin pulled away and watched as Arthur’s eyes blinked open in surprise.
“You kissed me,” he said and Merlin felt his heart stop.
“Oh my gods, I should have clarified, I’m so sorry–”
“Merlin!” Arthur grunted his name as Merlin jabbed him in an effort to clamber away and then clamped his hands over Merlin’s flailing elbow. “Merlin, you idiot, I mean you kissed me, as in that wasn’t how I imagined it happening.”
“You–” Merlin floundered, at a loss for words, “You what?”
Amused, Arthur reached for Merlin’s neck again and slowly brought him back down so the two were at eye level. “I always imagined it would be me who kissed you first,” Arthur said as if them kissing was the most casual topic in the world.
“You’ve imagined us kissing?” Merlin breathed, feeling a hot flush creep up his whole body. Arthur had imagined them together. Holy–
“Yes, and I daresay it was much more romantic than the aftermath of a tickle fight.”
“Romantic...how?”
Merlin should have seen it coming because Arthur was still Arthur, but the king shoved him aside, sat atop Merlin’s chest, and grinned victoriously down at him. “For one thing, you don’t look like you’ve just been to hell and back–”
“Oi!”
“–And maybe we’ve just gone on a nice picnic or something.”
“A picnic?”
Arthur flopped over to lay beside Merlin so he could fling an arm and a leg possessively over him. “Yes, Merlin, a picnic,” he drawled, tracing the line of Merlin’s arm with a finger.
“Right, right. A picnic I’ve prepared.”
“Naturally.”
“Royal prat.”
“Insolent clotpole.”
They smiled at each other, and Merlin couldn’t help marveling at how nothing changed despite the kiss. He found Arthur’s gaze drifting to his lips a few times and raised an eyebrow in silent question. Arthur chuckled and then asked, “May I kiss you this time?”
Merlin nodded and found himself all but smothered with the sensations of Arthur as the king draped himself over his manservant, kissing him blissfully slow and warm in the dim light of his chambers.
As they snuggled into bed later that night after a much-needed talk about feelings, Merlin held his king closer than he ever had before.
Perhaps he should consider tickling Arthur more often if this was the result.