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The tube was as crowded as it got. There were at least thirty people crowded into this one car. It smelled like metal and body odor and old, stale chips. A man no older than 20 had a carton of them tucked into his coat - he kept slipping them into his mouth. Arthur was glad he wasn’t near that guy.
The breaks squealed and everyone lurched to their left. Arthur’s shoulder knocked into Merlin’s beside him. Merlin, with a firm grip around Arthur’s forearm, clucked his tongue, licking his finger and wiping ink off of Arthur’s arm.
The tube came to a stop and half the car emptied, only to be replaced again with new faces and different stories.
Arthur looked at Merlin out of the corner of his eyes. Merlin, apparently, knew that Arthur was looking. “I messed up,” he murmured, answering Arthur’s unasked question.
Arthur nodded, though it was more to try to sneak a glance at whatever Merlin was drawing on his arm. The felt tip marker tickled his hairs but he managed to stay still. “You can’t look yet,” Merlin said, eyes focused on his masterpiece.
“Why can’t I just have a peek?” Arthur asked, failing to hide his smile.
“You won’t get the full-effect then. Trust me, you’re gonna want this tattooed on when I’m done.”
The doors to the tube closed and they were jolted again as it started moving. Thankfully, Merlin wasn’t drawing at that moment.
Arthur felt the tip of the marker dip past his wrist and onto the top of his hand. “You’re doing my hand too?” he asked.
“Yep.” Merlin licked his finger and wiped at Arthur’s hand then, again.
“Well, do I get to draw on you next?” Arthur asked, and he already knew the response he’d get.
Merlin laughed, hearty and full. “I don’t know about that.”
Arthur smiled, deciding to go along with the joke like they always do whenever Merlin chooses Arthur as his canvas. “Well, how will I ever become an artist if I don’t get to practice?”
“You can practice,” Merlin said, “but why don’t you start off on post-it notes first?”
“That’s no fun and you know it.”
Merlin chuckled, finally looking up to meet Arthur’s eyes. “Almost done,” he said.
“We’ll be home soon,” Arthur reminded him.
“I’ll be done before then.” Merlin readjusted the sleeve to Arthur’s jacket, pulling it up farther.
Sometimes Arthur wondered what Merlin did everyday at work, if he was always this starving to draw on Arthur on their shared tube-trip home. Surely not paint on canvases at the museum all day? Oh wait…
Merlin pulled Arthur’s arm then, so that his elbow was poking Merlin’s belly. He felt Merlin’s soft black hoodie and the smooth leather of the jacket he wore overtop. The epitome of a street artist, Arthur always told Merlin, yet he worked at the finest art museum in London. He was hot as hell, though. Arthur definitely didn’t mind. Not to mention those black combat boots Merlin insisted on wearing everywhere. And those black jeans that did wonders. Yeah, Arthur definitely didn’t mind.
“Done,” Merlin declared, locking his fingers with Arthur’s. “Why don’t you have a look, love?” he murmured.
Arthur took one last glance around the tube, and all the others in it. On the opposite side, an old woman and young boy, probably grandmother and grandson, were watching them with wonder. Well, the old woman was watching them with more confusion and shock, while the boy’s eyes were alight with wonder.
Arthur looked down to his arm.
An intricate dragon, in a sea of vines, with a tail that winded down to Arthur’s knuckles. Everything was so detailed - the scales of the dragon, the light in its eyes, the leaves of the vines - far more detailed than Arthur imagined could be drawn on his arm with a black felt tip marker, of fine and ultra fine points, Arthur heard Merlin’s voice clarify in his head. As Arthur looked closer, he saw something else, too. Curled into the dragon’s hand, or paw? was an egg, a small portion of the shell poking out and the head of a small, smiling baby dragon peeking through.
Oh, gods , it was beautiful . Arthur needs this tattooed on as soon as possible.
“Do you like it?” Merlin asked.
Arthur exhaled softly, still in shock at what Merlin is capable of, in a moving tube, no less.
“I love it,” Arthur breathed, looking from his arm to Merlin. “It’s - beautiful .”
Merlin grinned, bringing Arthur’s hand to his lips and pecking a kiss to his knuckles, where the dragon’s tail lay.
Just then, the brakes squealed again, and the tube came to a stop, doors opening. The two of them stood, keeping their fingers interlocked all the while. They walked to the doors but Arthur pulled them to a stop, walking back to where they’d been sitting.
Merlin’s scarf lay rumpled in his seat.
Arthur picked it up and put it around Merlin’s neck. “Don't forget your scarf,” he said. “Again.”
Merlin just grinned even more and led them out of the tube.
As they walked up the stairs and into the chilly night air, Arthur couldn’t help but ask the question on his mind, bringing it up as casually as possible. “Do you know where the nearest tattoo parlor is?”
Merlin just grinned, tightening his grip on Arthur’s hand. “Come with me,” he said, and they ran down the street together.