but we fight for roses too

Merlin woke up to the sound of his pregnant husband waddling around their flat. He turned over to check the time, and it was 5 in the morning. For the life of him, he couldn’t figure out why is 8 month pregnant husband was wandering around their flat so early. He knew that Arthur was having some sleeping problems, but usually he would just curl up into Merlin or make Merlin get him food or water.

Merlin sighed and got out of bed. He wasn’t in their bathroom or kitchen or living room. Confused, he looked into what was going to be their child’s room, and he wasn’t there either. That’s when he heard faint crying coming from their spare bathroom. He ran in to find Arthur sitting on the ground with his face in his hands.

Merlin sat down next to him and wrapped his arms around Arthur. “What’s wrong, love?” He asked softly, kissing his cheek.

“Just…EVERYTHING!!” Arthur sobbed, and started crying even harder.

Merlin had gotten used to the mood swings, but usually Arthur would tell him what was wrong. In a case like this, he was totally at a loss. So naturally, he went to his default for getting Arthur to cheer up.

“Hey Arthur, where does a king keep his armies?” Merlin asked “In his sleevies!” he failed his nightshirt around to prove his point. Arthur kept crying.

“Who was purple and conquered the world?” Merlin tried “Alexander the Grape!” Arthur, if anything, cried harder.

“Saturday and Sunday are the strongest days of the week. Do you know why?” Merlin asked again “Because the rest are week days!”

Arthur stopped crying and glared at Merlin. “Stop trying to cheer me up!” Arthur exclaimed “I just want to cry and get held by my husband until I fall asleep, is that too much to ask?!”

Merlin gaped for a moment then helped Arthur to his feet. “Well why didn’t you say so, love?” Arthur huffed but allowed himself to be pulled into bed and spooned by Merlin. As the cuddled into the early hours, Arthur whispered “Well, at least you have the jokes ready for when you’re a dad.” Merlin laughed and replied “Hello baby, I’m dad.”

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other message: MERTHUR PAIR THAT WITH MERTHUR

“You want me to do what?!” Merlin almost yelled at Arthur.

“Please Merlin?” Arthur pleaded “For meeeee?” he pouted and made puppy dog eyes, and Merlin would be lying if he said he was immune when his lover made that face. He wouldn’t go down without a fight, however.

“Arthur you must be absolutely insane if you think I’ll actually wear that!” Merlin exclaimed, gesturing to the pile of cloth lying on Arthur’s four poster bed.

“You know I wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t important.” Arthur started “The council and the people are well aware that Guinevere and I are long over and that I am now seeing someone, and they want to meet them. You just need to wear these for now, and we can figure things out from there.”

Merlin glared at Arthur and then at the offending pile of clothes on the bed. Why didn’t Arthur understand why he didn’t want to wear a silk dress in public?! Actually he knew the answer was that it wasn’t Arthur who had to wear it and he probably found it attractive in some way. The bastard.

“Arthur, if you make me wear this now, it will cause more problems down the road,” Merlin tried to reason with him “And I don’t want to hide who I am, and if you’ve quite forgotten, I have a penis.”

“Trust me Merlin, I haven’t forgotten,” Arthur replied, shifting uncomfortably “But just this once? For me?”

“No Arthur. That’s my final answer,” Merlin stated. He scooped up the offending dress and was returning it to it’s place in the closet when he felt a pair of strong arms wrap around him.

“I’m sorry,” Arthur whispered in his ear, his lips ghosting it “I don’t want to hide our relationship, I love you for who you are, penis and all. I just thought the color would look quite nice on you.” He nipped his ear lightly.

Merlin smirked and turned. “Oh but Arthur dear,” he said wickedly “Light blue would go fantastically with your eyes and hair.” He turned and walked out laughing to meet the council, leaving his king and lover gaping behind him.

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