Chapter Text
"Merlin," Arthur screeched, followed by a scuffling noise and an undeniably (Arthur would deny it anyway) girly shriek. Merlin sighed and squished his face against his laptop, briefly cursing his goddamn destiny, before picking himself up and shuffling into the kitchen.
Arthur was perched precariously on a chair, wielding a soup spoon and waving it wildly at the little Roomba that was headbutting the legs of his chair.
"What is this sorcery?" he cried out, scooting back when the vacuum turned towards him with malicious intent.
Merlin's eyebrows rose, identical to Gaius' even after all these years. "It's not magic, Arthur," he sighed, idly inspecting his dragon slippers, "it's called technology."
"It's moving," Arthur sobbed desperately, throwing the spoon at the vacuum before clambering onto the kitchen counter and huddling into a ball.
Merlin rolled his eyes and sauntered over, flicking off the vacuum and petting Arthur's hair.
"There, you see?" he teased, waving the motionless Roomba in front of Arthur with a grin. "I've protected you again, sire."
Arthur scowled and glared at Merlin.
"You don't mention this to anyone." Merlin smothered a grin.
"Of course, Arthur."
//
"Merlin," Arthur called out, voice once again tinged with panic and terror. Merlin set his tea down and idly considered throwing Arthur back into the lake.
He made his way over to the living room where Arthur was crouched behind a sofa and staring with wild-eyed terror at the television screen.
"There's a woman with the ice cream stuff on her head," he hissed with quiet intent, "she might come out of the magic box and attack us."
Merlin's eyes flicked over to Lady Gaga dubiously.
"Her dress was made of the flesh of her enemies, Merlin," Arthur whispered furiously, "she's a formidable foe."
Unable to help himself, Merlin seated himself on the couch and leaned over to kiss the top of Arthur's head.
"Don't worry, sire," he murmured, changing the channel to a football match, one of the few things Arthur actually understood. "I'll make sure Lady Gaga doesn't hunt us down."
Arthur wrinkled his nose in distaste, quickly overcoming his fear.
"What court in their right mind would have her as a lady?" he asked incredulously.
Merlin hid a grin in Arthur's fluffy hair.
//
Arthur refused to leave the flat for a month.
"I'm not going, Merlin," he insisted, pointing the fake sword Merlin had given him for comfort at Merlin. "There are--there are strange silver beasts in the sky that aren't dragons, so you can't even control them--"
"Actually, I probably--"
"And there are smaller beasts that travel along the roads and the roads are weird, Merlin, I don't like them, they're smooth and black and yellow and none of the peasants answer to me as their rightful king!"
"Arthur, you're not a king right--"
"And these clothes! What is this made of, Merlin? It's--it's baggy, and strange, and the breeches are blue and what idiot decided upon that? It's worse than your neckerchiefs!"
"I like you in tighter clothes too, Arthur, but you can't just walk out there wearing a tunic and--"
"And the buildings are strange and there are no trees anywhere and I'm not going out there, Merlin."
Merlin sighed and scrubbed at his face with the palms of his hands.
"...maybe we should just watch telly."
Arthur huffed self-righteously and marched towards the living room.
"Bloody prat."
"I heard that!"
Merlin whacked him over the head with the remote and ducked away before Arthur could retaliate.
//
One day Merlin found Arthur sitting by the water tap, twisting it on and off and staring at it with rapt wonder.
He opened his mouth, closed it, and silently shut the door.
//
"Merlin, what's porn?"
"ARTHUR DON'T CLICK TH--"
"...oh."
"You're not allowed on the computer ever again."
//
"Fetch me my armor, Merlin, we're going to the supermarket."
Merlin flicked his wrist lazily, not deigning to look up from his kindle (Arthur wouldn't touch it with a pole), and Arthur's hoodie presented itself to him.
Arthur scowled.
"I want my real armor back. Not this--potato sack."
"Too bad. Wear it."
"You can't tell me what to do Merlin, I'm a king!"
Merlin finally lifted his eyes from his riveting book (he always enjoyed reading Shakespeare, even if the man himself was a bit pompous) and stared at Arthur with fond exasperation and, he suspected, unhealthy amounts of love.
"We get enough stares because you insist on carrying around that toy--"
"It's Excalibur, Merlin, I couldn't just leave it behind--"
"So there's no way you're going to the supermarket in full armor."
The hoodie began shoving itself over Arthur's head and Merlin could feel the familiar presence of Arthur's unamused glare.
//
"Merlin, what is this majestic creature?"
Arthur's taste in television had recently expanded beyond football and the history channel to include the discovery channel.
Merlin peered at the screen.
"It's a peacock, Arthur."
"I would like one in our chambers."
Merlin fixed him with a stare. "We can't have a peacock in our room, Arthur."
"Yes we can."
"No, we can't."
A week later found Merlin staring down the peacock in their room.
A month later found Merlin staring down a giraffe outside his window.
"I want Kilgharrah back," he moaned.
Arthur smiled broadly at the giraffe and leaned out the window to pet its nose.
"His name will be Pendragon. He shall be the attraction of all the kingdoms."
"I hate you."
"You love me."
(He did.)