Chapter Text
Here’s the thing. Merlin made fun of Arthur, a lot, for a variety of reasons.
The thing he made fun of him the most for? His clothes.
Arthur had grown up very rich and very spoiled and somehow that translated to him being a prat about his clothes.
He only wore brand names, specifically the very high-end brand names because apparently you could both see and feel the difference in the quality of the material.
His clothes were all dry cleaned professionally because God forbid Arthur do laundry like a mere peasant, and he was actually that much of an entitled bastard that he didn’t like people touching his clothes.
As if that wasn’t bad enough, he was one of those people who kept up with the latest fashion trends and simply stopped wearing clothes because they were out of season. Merlin thought he was completely insane and needed to touch grass.
Arthur had tried to convert him from wearing the cheap cotton clothes that most people wore on a daily basis without issues, but Merlin refused to let Arthur turn him into a clothes snob so he steadfastly refused.
All of this is to say that Merlin has a secret.
A secret that no one, especially Arthur, can never know.
Here’s how it happened. Merlin was freezing so he was trying to find a jumper or something to wear. As he was rooting through the pile of clothes on the chair in his bedroom that he was yet to pack away, his fingers wrapped around something unbelievably soft.
Lo and behold, it was Arthur’s fancy cashmere sweater. A deep, navy blue one that Merlin distinctly remembers him wearing because it made his eyes look even bluer.
Merlin also remembers that Arthur hadn’t worn it for long, because it made his eyes look even bluer, and Merlin had to do something about that, as his devoted boyfriend.
Not the point.
So, Merlin was freezing and the sweater was softer and warmer than anything he owned and it smelled like Arthur, which is to say insanely good, so naturally he’d pulled it over his head.
And.
Holy fuck.
He hadn’t expected the sweater to feel that good. It was like being wrapped in a cloud. The sweater hadn’t even been on for a full ten seconds and Merlin was sure all other sweaters were ruined for him now.
Maybe Arthur was onto something with all the cashmere.
So that’s how this whole thing started.
Now, it had snowballed into something that was becoming a problem.
Merlin was stealing Arthur’s clothes. Not borrowing. Stealing.
Why? Because he refused to give Arthur the satisfaction of admitting that there was something to ridiculously expensive clothes, he had reduced himself to sneakily taking Arthur’s clothes out of his wardrobe and carrying them home so he could wear them in the privacy of his apartment when Arthur wasn’t around.
And he was pleased to say he was very good at it too.
It’d been about three months and Arthur hadn’t caught onto the fact that Merlin was the one who was drastically reducing the size of his wardrobe. He just assumed that the dry cleaning company kept losing his clothes. (Merlin did feel a bit guilty that he was on the sixth company so far because he kept switching in an attempt to find one that wouldn’t lose his clothes, but well…needs must and all that.)
Honestly, his only mistake was giving Arthur a key to his apartment because they were in a committed relationship and that’s what good boyfriends do.
It had been a long, cold day so Merlin came home from work and pulled on the sweater that started this whole thing in the first place then snuggled under a blanket on his couch as he put on a movie to watch. Then, stupidly he fell asleep so he didn’t see Arthur’s text to say he was coming over, nor did he hear the knocks on the door.
So, Arthur let himself into the apartment, a fond smile crossing his lips when he spots Merlin looking adorable on the couch. Then, his eyes latch onto his attire and the smile turns into a shit-eating grin.
Unrepentantly, Arthur kneels down in front of his boyfriend, gently caressing his face. Merlin’s lips twitch and then his eyes flutter open, landing on Arthur who’s smirking smugly.
“Hi,” Merlin murmurs, looking so fucking sweet that Arthur’s tempted to let it go.
He obviously doesn’t.
“Hi,” Arthur whispers. “Cozy?”
“Mhm,” Merlin hums happily.
“Yes, you do look it. The sweater ties everything together, especially,” He continues conversationally and Merlin’s eyes grow wide as he curses internally. He had forgotten about the goddamn sweater.
“I-” He begins but pauses when nothing comes to mind. “Uh, ran out of clean clothes?”
“You love cashmere, don’t you?” Arthur goads.
“It’s the same as cotton,” Merlin lies through his teeth.
“Nope. You love it because it’s soft and rare and it feels a million times better than anything else.”
“It’s made from goats and it’s too expensive. Cotton feels the exact same way,” Merlin insists and Arthur hums.
“So, in that case, how about you give me that sweater to put on and I’ll get you one of your cotton jumpers and then we can cuddle.”
Merlin pauses and Arthur smirks, knowing he’s got him.
Except.
Merlin’s eyes latch onto the scarf Arthur’s got wrapped around his neck and it’s his turn to flash that shit-eating grin.
“What’s that, Arthur?”
Fuck.
“One of my many cashmere scarfs,” Arthur fibs.
“Really? I don’t remember any of yours having my initials on them,” Merlin muses and Arthur shrugs nonchalantly.
“I’ve always said you’ve got a poor memory.”
“Huh,” Merlin says. “It’s just that I’m pretty sure that’s the scarf my mum made me from wool that she bought at the dollar store. The same wool you said scratches your sensitive skin that can only bear the finest of all materials?”
Arthur snorts, the laughter betraying his stance.
“Okay, you’ve got me. Maybe I like wearing your cheap clothes—but,” He points accusingly at Merlin. “You clearly like wearing my expensive ones!”
“Only because it smells like you and feels like a cloud!” Merlin blurts out in defense, face palming when he realizes what he’s confessed.
Arthur grins happily.
“Your stuff feels like a hug from you,” He admits conspiratorially. Merlin pulls him down onto his chest, wrapping the blanket around them both.
“We’re a joke, aren’t we?” He giggles and Arthur kisses his nose.
“No one can ever accuse us of being boring,” Arthur agrees, snuggling down into the soft fabric of his sweater. Merlin hugs him closer and they both go quiet, enjoying the jovial atmosphere they’ve created.
Until Arthur speaks again.
“I can’t believe you let me fire all those dry cleaning companies just because you didn’t want me knowing you like wearing my clothes.”