Merlin fic: Bringing Up Baby
Bringing Up Baby [Merlin, Arthur, Merlin, G, 2,558 words, crack, sort of pre-slash. I like having someone to blame - newkidfan is responsible (this post is now locked, but you can see the inspiration here) for this (though I can't blame her for the lameness of the 'plot' - I'm lazy)! And serotonin_storm very kindly gave me a superfast beta.]
ETA: Now with the most adorable artwork you could imagine, by the very talented trolleys: here.
One minute Merlin's there, riding (like a sack of turnips) next to Arthur. The next-
It's a very good thing Arthur has good reflexes.
*
Arthur has never held a baby before. He's had them held up to him in villages when he's been on patrol, and he's admired them and kissed them and lyingly agreed with doting mothers that their baby is the most beautiful baby he's ever seen. But then he's moved on as quickly as possible, like any self-respecting man, so he's never actually had to deal with one. And obviously he's never wanted to; he'd rather fight a dragon, or stave off a bandit attack single-handedly, or even spend hours discussing taxation issues. Holding a baby is not a job for a crown prince.
He'd never admit it, but babies scare him a bit. They're tiny and fragile looking and cry a lot, and he has absolutely no idea what to do with one.
He looks down. A little face looks up at him and grins.
Arthur is holding a baby, and he's terrified.
*
Arthur jiggles the baby. It definitely wasn't Arthur's imagination that one minute Merlin was Merlin, riding his horse and noisily munching sweetmeats, and the next minute there was a baby nearly falling off Merlin's horse. A baby with black hair, blue eyes, jug ears, and an incredibly goofy smile. A baby that is currently completely swamped underneath a too-big blue tunic and a brown neck scarf.
Arthur smiles wanly at the baby, and the baby's smile goes from goofy to huge and gap-toothed. Arthur can't help smiling properly back - it must be one of those annoying involuntary things, like yawning when someone else yawns - and the baby starts laughing.
The moment Arthur hears the laugh, any faint, imaginary hope that the baby might not be Merlin flies away. Arthur would know that laugh anywhere, even if it is smaller and higher pitched and coming out of an entirely wrong body.
He's holding Merlin in his arms. Baby Merlin.
Arthur groans.
Little Merlin just laughs again and tries to wriggle free.
*
First things first.
Arthur dismounts carefully, holding Merlin as tightly as he can without actually squashing him. He suspects babies squash quite easily. He looks around carefully, but it's a quiet road, and he'll see anyone coming from a distance. He's safe from disturbance for a while at least.
"Um," he says to Merlin. "I'm going to have to undress you before you suffocate in these clothes."
He feels like an idiot talking to a baby. Merlin just chuckles, though, and topples over when Arthur sets him down on the ground. Arthur panics for a moment - he's allowed to panic; he's had training for all sorts of situations, but none for this - but when he picks Merlin up he just giggles back at Arthur.
The tunic is so big on him Arthur simply pulls it down and it falls off around him. The neckerchief lifts off over his head, and Merlin's free. And also naked.
The neckerchief seems like the only remedy. Arthur ties it around Merlin's middle, then tucks it between his legs and makes a rough kind of garment out of it. He's not sure how long it will hold, but it's the best he can do for now.
*
Arthur ponders his options. He can hardly ride back into Camelot with Merlin's horse and a baby wrapped in Merlin's clothes on his lap. Whatever weird sorcery is at play here, Arthur doesn't think letting the whole of Camelot know about it would be a good idea. He imagines the look on his father's face if he heard about it, and the all too strong possibility that Merlin himself would be blamed - he needs to keep this a secret if he can.
He tethers Merlin's mare - he can come back for her later - and mounts his own ride. If he's careful, and wraps his cloak just so, he can hide Merlin once he gets into sight of the castle. At least that will buy him some breathing space.
"Sssh," he says to Merlin. "You need to be very still and quiet."
Merlin just giggles.
*
He makes it up to his room, though not without a few odd looks. He has to laugh loudly twice to cover the sound of Merlin laughing, and the second time he ends up playing drunk, because how else can he explain walking through the corridors laughing to himself?
"It's all your fault," he tells Merlin as he closes his door behind them.
Merlin chuckles as though Arthur's just told the best joke ever.
*
Arthur catches a passing servant - Molly, he thinks - in the corridor. He's left his door ajar, and he desperately hopes Merlin will be quiet for a few seconds.
"I need you to fetch me some food," he orders.
"Certainly, Sire," Molly says. "What would you like?"
Something a baby will eat. Arthur has no experience in such matters, but he has noticed that Merlin only has a few teeth. "Some-soup. Yes, soup. With no lumps in it. And stewed apples." That should work.
Molly is clearly far better trained than Merlin because she doesn't so much as raise an eyebrow. She just curtsies and heads towards the kitchen.
It's not until she's out of sight that Arthur realises he hasn't asked for anything for himself.
"Great," he tells Merlin. "I'm stuck eating broth and stewed fruit thanks to you."
Merlin gives his usual giggling response.
*
Merlin is an incredibly messy eater. Barely half the soup ends up in his mouth. Even though he seems to be enjoying it, he keeps moving his mouth away from the spoon at the last minute, or laughing and spitting half of it back out again. Most of the spat out food lands on Arthur, of course. He looks in dismay at the state of his tunic and hose. "You're disgusting," he tells Merlin.
He finally finds the trick to feeding Merlin. "Open wide," he says, "the dragon is coming in to land." He waves the spoon of stewed apple in circles: Merlin follows each flight in great excitement, and eats every spoonful.
He then promptly falls asleep on Arthur's lap.
Merlin snuffles and wriggles and breathes noisily with his mouth open, and Arthur doesn't find it completely adorable. He only keeps holding him because there's nowhere safe to put Merlin down for long. And it's not cuddling, it's just the way he's seen mothers hold babies. They like to be held firmly.
*
Arthur's going to have to tell someone soon. For now, though, he's sent a note to Gaius saying that Merlin won't be back tonight, another note to Ywain telling him to lead the training session this afternoon, and he's locked his door in case Morgana decides to drop by without knocking. It's not procrastination, it's just sensible, giving himself time to fix things or for the magic to wear off. After all, he's certain Merlin would rather the least amount of people know about this.
But for now, he's on his own. With baby Merlin. Who woke up from his mid-afternoon nap looking his usual - and when did Arthur start to think anything about this was usual? - happy self, but who now has a distinct frown on his face.
Arthur's heart sinks.
Merlin keeps wriggling, his face screwed up in misery, and Arthur doesn't know what's wrong with him. He's never felt so helpless in his life; he's used to being responsible for men, used to people trusting him with their lives, but this is something more. Merlin is so utterly dependant on him, and Arthur can't help but feel incredibly protective towards him.
"I wish you could tell me what's wrong," he says, looking sadly at Merlin.
He gets his wish. Just not in the way he imagined. Merlin screws his face up one final time, then his frown grows slowly into a smile as he lets out an enormous fart.
How a baby that size can make such a bad smell, Arthur has no idea. This is worse than Sir Dagonet after a night on the ale, and he's always been proud of his ability to fart louder than anyone.
Arthur holds Merlin up, and Arthur's makeshift garment falls to the ground. "You are a stinky baby," he says.
Merlin gurgles happily, a beatific smile on his face. Arthur smiles back for a moment, then realises why Merlin is smiling. There's a trickling sound and a wet sensation on his leg, and Arthur doesn't need to look down to know what's happening.
"I am never going to let you live this down," he tells Merlin.
*
When he's cleaned Merlin up, swaddled him in a towel, cleaned himself up and changed into clean clothes, he props Merlin against some pillows and sits down beside him.
"So, any ideas what's caused this?" he asks. He's already grown used to talking to Merlin like this, though he's actually feeling nostalgic for the Merlin who'll talk back to him, however cheeky and disrespectful and downright obnoxious he frequently is.
"It might have been the owner of the stall in Trewarmitt," he ponders. "You did eat a lot of sweetmeats."
Arthur didn't eat any at all. He's had bellyaches from eating food from travelling vendors too often to risk it - he'd rather stick with his own rations. Now that he thinks of it, the sweetmeats Merlin bought did look unusually colourful and-well, strange, somehow. Plus he doesn't remember ever seeing that particular vendor before, even though he's familiar with most who travel around Camelot.
Great. Trust Merlin to buy magical sweetmeats.
"Let's just hope it wears off," he says. "Or you'll be suffering through Gaius' potions tomorrow. And don't think he'll make you nice tasting ones just because you're a baby."
Baby Merlin, of course, just laughs at the threat.
*
He only looks away for a minute. No longer, he swears.
When he turns around, Merlin is surrounded by cushions. He hasn't moved; he's sitting exactly where Arthur left him, still propped up on either side by pillows. But every cushion in the room is in the air around Merlin, and they're dancing, wild jigs in the air, circling round and round. Merlin's gurgling happily, and when Arthur gets down on his knees to check that Merlin's all right, his eyes are glowing golden.
Arthur gulps.
"You and me," he says strongly, "we're going to have a conversation just as soon as you can talk again."
A cushion hits Arthur in the chest. Merlin laughs so hard he falls over on his face, and Arthur can't help himself - he laughs too. He's just learned the worst possible secret about his manservant, who is currently a baby, and yet he can't stop laughing.
Merlin never stops bringing the insanity into Arthur's life. The worst of it is, Arthur doesn't even regret it.
*
Merlin runs out of energy eventually. Which is a relief, because Arthur ran out much sooner. Looking after a magical baby has to be one of the hardest jobs Arthur has ever done. He has a newfound respect for Hunith - if Merlin were actually like this as a child, she must have been permanently exhausted. Arthur had to put everything movable away in his trunk after Merlin tried juggling Arthur's sword and dagger. Arthur never wants to feel the same horror that he felt when he saw the sword hanging in the air over Merlin.
The downside to Merlin getting tired is that he stops laughing and starts to cry. Merlin's laugh is a ridiculously happy sound, and Arthur can't pretend he doesn't enjoy it. Merlin crying, however, is horrible. It's a reedy, pathetic sound that leaves Arthur feeling helpless. He tries distracting Merlin by pulling faces and waving cushions around, but Merlin just wails louder. He makes silly noises: he moos like a cow and grunts like a pig and even crawls around on his hands and knees barking like a dog, but Merlin keeps on crying. In the end, Arthur picks him up, and the moment he tucks Merlin carefully under his arm Merlin stops crying. It feels like a miracle. He curls up into Arthur's side and sighs contentedly, and Arthur tries to ignore the warm feeling it gives him.
He walks around the room, rocking Merlin the way he's seen mothers do; Merlin hiccups a bit and then falls asleep.
Arthur doesn't mean to fall asleep too. He just sits down in his comfortable chair, Merlin curled up in his arms, and closes his eyes a moment.
*
"Urgh."
Arthur's not sure which of them said it. It might have been him, because waking suddenly to the weight of a fully grown adult on your lap is enough of a shock to excuse a mild exclamation. Or it might have been Merlin, who's back to his normal size, but still sitting on Arthur's lap. And only covered by the torn remnants of his scarf, which apparently didn't survive Merlin's growth spurt.
Merlin blinks, several times. "I am dreaming, right?" he asks, and pinches himself. "Ow," he says.
"Do you often have dreams of being half-naked and sitting on my lap?" Arthur finds himself asking. He smirks.
Merlin looks down. Judging by the flush spreading over his face, he wasn't aware of his state of undress. "I-um-what?" Merlin flails, though he doesn't actually move.
He's heavier than he looks, and Arthur's warm where Merlin's pressed up against him. He doesn't push Merlin off.
"You don't remember anything?"
"We were-" Merlin screws up his face and is obviously racking his memory. "We were riding back from Trewarmitt, and then I woke up here." He looks about himself in bemusement.
"Did you eat many sweetmeats from the vendor there?" Arthur asks.
Merlin looks equal parts puzzled and guilty. Back to normal, really. "A few," he says, and Arthur translates that as Merlin-speak for far too many.
"Did they taste at all unusual?" Arthur asks.
Merlin sits and thinks. "Maybe?" he says vaguely. "They were sort of-fizzy." He scrubs at his face as though he's still half asleep.
Arthur rolls his eyes. "And you still ate them? You idiot."
"What happened?" Merlin asks warily.
Arthur grins. This is going to be good. "You turned into a baby," he says. "The sweetmeats must have been magic."
Merlin goes pale. "A baby?" he repeats, looking even more bewildered.
Arthur imagines the situation in reverse. Imagines being turned into a baby and Merlin having to look after him. He winces. Then he remembers the cushion bombardment and Merlin's gleeful expression every time he hit Arthur, and the way he merrily peed down Arthur's leg.
"It's fine," Arthur says, inspired by the perfect revenge. "It wasn't a problem. Morgana looked after you."
Merlin goes even whiter. "Morgana," he whispers.
Arthur nods seriously.
Merlin slides off Arthur's lap and onto the floor. Arthur thinks he whimpers.
Tomorrow, Arthur will tell him the truth. And have that conversation, the one about magically dancing cushions and exactly how that could have happened. For now, though, he's going to enjoy the moment.
"Gwen helped her," he says. "With, you know, changing and things."
This time the whimper is unmistakable.
//
In case you didn't check it out from the story header, here's the inspiration for baby!Merlin. Do watch it.
ETA: Now with the most adorable artwork you could imagine, by the very talented trolleys: here.
One minute Merlin's there, riding (like a sack of turnips) next to Arthur. The next-
It's a very good thing Arthur has good reflexes.
*
Arthur has never held a baby before. He's had them held up to him in villages when he's been on patrol, and he's admired them and kissed them and lyingly agreed with doting mothers that their baby is the most beautiful baby he's ever seen. But then he's moved on as quickly as possible, like any self-respecting man, so he's never actually had to deal with one. And obviously he's never wanted to; he'd rather fight a dragon, or stave off a bandit attack single-handedly, or even spend hours discussing taxation issues. Holding a baby is not a job for a crown prince.
He'd never admit it, but babies scare him a bit. They're tiny and fragile looking and cry a lot, and he has absolutely no idea what to do with one.
He looks down. A little face looks up at him and grins.
Arthur is holding a baby, and he's terrified.
*
Arthur jiggles the baby. It definitely wasn't Arthur's imagination that one minute Merlin was Merlin, riding his horse and noisily munching sweetmeats, and the next minute there was a baby nearly falling off Merlin's horse. A baby with black hair, blue eyes, jug ears, and an incredibly goofy smile. A baby that is currently completely swamped underneath a too-big blue tunic and a brown neck scarf.
Arthur smiles wanly at the baby, and the baby's smile goes from goofy to huge and gap-toothed. Arthur can't help smiling properly back - it must be one of those annoying involuntary things, like yawning when someone else yawns - and the baby starts laughing.
The moment Arthur hears the laugh, any faint, imaginary hope that the baby might not be Merlin flies away. Arthur would know that laugh anywhere, even if it is smaller and higher pitched and coming out of an entirely wrong body.
He's holding Merlin in his arms. Baby Merlin.
Arthur groans.
Little Merlin just laughs again and tries to wriggle free.
*
First things first.
Arthur dismounts carefully, holding Merlin as tightly as he can without actually squashing him. He suspects babies squash quite easily. He looks around carefully, but it's a quiet road, and he'll see anyone coming from a distance. He's safe from disturbance for a while at least.
"Um," he says to Merlin. "I'm going to have to undress you before you suffocate in these clothes."
He feels like an idiot talking to a baby. Merlin just chuckles, though, and topples over when Arthur sets him down on the ground. Arthur panics for a moment - he's allowed to panic; he's had training for all sorts of situations, but none for this - but when he picks Merlin up he just giggles back at Arthur.
The tunic is so big on him Arthur simply pulls it down and it falls off around him. The neckerchief lifts off over his head, and Merlin's free. And also naked.
The neckerchief seems like the only remedy. Arthur ties it around Merlin's middle, then tucks it between his legs and makes a rough kind of garment out of it. He's not sure how long it will hold, but it's the best he can do for now.
*
Arthur ponders his options. He can hardly ride back into Camelot with Merlin's horse and a baby wrapped in Merlin's clothes on his lap. Whatever weird sorcery is at play here, Arthur doesn't think letting the whole of Camelot know about it would be a good idea. He imagines the look on his father's face if he heard about it, and the all too strong possibility that Merlin himself would be blamed - he needs to keep this a secret if he can.
He tethers Merlin's mare - he can come back for her later - and mounts his own ride. If he's careful, and wraps his cloak just so, he can hide Merlin once he gets into sight of the castle. At least that will buy him some breathing space.
"Sssh," he says to Merlin. "You need to be very still and quiet."
Merlin just giggles.
*
He makes it up to his room, though not without a few odd looks. He has to laugh loudly twice to cover the sound of Merlin laughing, and the second time he ends up playing drunk, because how else can he explain walking through the corridors laughing to himself?
"It's all your fault," he tells Merlin as he closes his door behind them.
Merlin chuckles as though Arthur's just told the best joke ever.
*
Arthur catches a passing servant - Molly, he thinks - in the corridor. He's left his door ajar, and he desperately hopes Merlin will be quiet for a few seconds.
"I need you to fetch me some food," he orders.
"Certainly, Sire," Molly says. "What would you like?"
Something a baby will eat. Arthur has no experience in such matters, but he has noticed that Merlin only has a few teeth. "Some-soup. Yes, soup. With no lumps in it. And stewed apples." That should work.
Molly is clearly far better trained than Merlin because she doesn't so much as raise an eyebrow. She just curtsies and heads towards the kitchen.
It's not until she's out of sight that Arthur realises he hasn't asked for anything for himself.
"Great," he tells Merlin. "I'm stuck eating broth and stewed fruit thanks to you."
Merlin gives his usual giggling response.
*
Merlin is an incredibly messy eater. Barely half the soup ends up in his mouth. Even though he seems to be enjoying it, he keeps moving his mouth away from the spoon at the last minute, or laughing and spitting half of it back out again. Most of the spat out food lands on Arthur, of course. He looks in dismay at the state of his tunic and hose. "You're disgusting," he tells Merlin.
He finally finds the trick to feeding Merlin. "Open wide," he says, "the dragon is coming in to land." He waves the spoon of stewed apple in circles: Merlin follows each flight in great excitement, and eats every spoonful.
He then promptly falls asleep on Arthur's lap.
Merlin snuffles and wriggles and breathes noisily with his mouth open, and Arthur doesn't find it completely adorable. He only keeps holding him because there's nowhere safe to put Merlin down for long. And it's not cuddling, it's just the way he's seen mothers hold babies. They like to be held firmly.
*
Arthur's going to have to tell someone soon. For now, though, he's sent a note to Gaius saying that Merlin won't be back tonight, another note to Ywain telling him to lead the training session this afternoon, and he's locked his door in case Morgana decides to drop by without knocking. It's not procrastination, it's just sensible, giving himself time to fix things or for the magic to wear off. After all, he's certain Merlin would rather the least amount of people know about this.
But for now, he's on his own. With baby Merlin. Who woke up from his mid-afternoon nap looking his usual - and when did Arthur start to think anything about this was usual? - happy self, but who now has a distinct frown on his face.
Arthur's heart sinks.
Merlin keeps wriggling, his face screwed up in misery, and Arthur doesn't know what's wrong with him. He's never felt so helpless in his life; he's used to being responsible for men, used to people trusting him with their lives, but this is something more. Merlin is so utterly dependant on him, and Arthur can't help but feel incredibly protective towards him.
"I wish you could tell me what's wrong," he says, looking sadly at Merlin.
He gets his wish. Just not in the way he imagined. Merlin screws his face up one final time, then his frown grows slowly into a smile as he lets out an enormous fart.
How a baby that size can make such a bad smell, Arthur has no idea. This is worse than Sir Dagonet after a night on the ale, and he's always been proud of his ability to fart louder than anyone.
Arthur holds Merlin up, and Arthur's makeshift garment falls to the ground. "You are a stinky baby," he says.
Merlin gurgles happily, a beatific smile on his face. Arthur smiles back for a moment, then realises why Merlin is smiling. There's a trickling sound and a wet sensation on his leg, and Arthur doesn't need to look down to know what's happening.
"I am never going to let you live this down," he tells Merlin.
*
When he's cleaned Merlin up, swaddled him in a towel, cleaned himself up and changed into clean clothes, he props Merlin against some pillows and sits down beside him.
"So, any ideas what's caused this?" he asks. He's already grown used to talking to Merlin like this, though he's actually feeling nostalgic for the Merlin who'll talk back to him, however cheeky and disrespectful and downright obnoxious he frequently is.
"It might have been the owner of the stall in Trewarmitt," he ponders. "You did eat a lot of sweetmeats."
Arthur didn't eat any at all. He's had bellyaches from eating food from travelling vendors too often to risk it - he'd rather stick with his own rations. Now that he thinks of it, the sweetmeats Merlin bought did look unusually colourful and-well, strange, somehow. Plus he doesn't remember ever seeing that particular vendor before, even though he's familiar with most who travel around Camelot.
Great. Trust Merlin to buy magical sweetmeats.
"Let's just hope it wears off," he says. "Or you'll be suffering through Gaius' potions tomorrow. And don't think he'll make you nice tasting ones just because you're a baby."
Baby Merlin, of course, just laughs at the threat.
*
He only looks away for a minute. No longer, he swears.
When he turns around, Merlin is surrounded by cushions. He hasn't moved; he's sitting exactly where Arthur left him, still propped up on either side by pillows. But every cushion in the room is in the air around Merlin, and they're dancing, wild jigs in the air, circling round and round. Merlin's gurgling happily, and when Arthur gets down on his knees to check that Merlin's all right, his eyes are glowing golden.
Arthur gulps.
"You and me," he says strongly, "we're going to have a conversation just as soon as you can talk again."
A cushion hits Arthur in the chest. Merlin laughs so hard he falls over on his face, and Arthur can't help himself - he laughs too. He's just learned the worst possible secret about his manservant, who is currently a baby, and yet he can't stop laughing.
Merlin never stops bringing the insanity into Arthur's life. The worst of it is, Arthur doesn't even regret it.
*
Merlin runs out of energy eventually. Which is a relief, because Arthur ran out much sooner. Looking after a magical baby has to be one of the hardest jobs Arthur has ever done. He has a newfound respect for Hunith - if Merlin were actually like this as a child, she must have been permanently exhausted. Arthur had to put everything movable away in his trunk after Merlin tried juggling Arthur's sword and dagger. Arthur never wants to feel the same horror that he felt when he saw the sword hanging in the air over Merlin.
The downside to Merlin getting tired is that he stops laughing and starts to cry. Merlin's laugh is a ridiculously happy sound, and Arthur can't pretend he doesn't enjoy it. Merlin crying, however, is horrible. It's a reedy, pathetic sound that leaves Arthur feeling helpless. He tries distracting Merlin by pulling faces and waving cushions around, but Merlin just wails louder. He makes silly noises: he moos like a cow and grunts like a pig and even crawls around on his hands and knees barking like a dog, but Merlin keeps on crying. In the end, Arthur picks him up, and the moment he tucks Merlin carefully under his arm Merlin stops crying. It feels like a miracle. He curls up into Arthur's side and sighs contentedly, and Arthur tries to ignore the warm feeling it gives him.
He walks around the room, rocking Merlin the way he's seen mothers do; Merlin hiccups a bit and then falls asleep.
Arthur doesn't mean to fall asleep too. He just sits down in his comfortable chair, Merlin curled up in his arms, and closes his eyes a moment.
*
"Urgh."
Arthur's not sure which of them said it. It might have been him, because waking suddenly to the weight of a fully grown adult on your lap is enough of a shock to excuse a mild exclamation. Or it might have been Merlin, who's back to his normal size, but still sitting on Arthur's lap. And only covered by the torn remnants of his scarf, which apparently didn't survive Merlin's growth spurt.
Merlin blinks, several times. "I am dreaming, right?" he asks, and pinches himself. "Ow," he says.
"Do you often have dreams of being half-naked and sitting on my lap?" Arthur finds himself asking. He smirks.
Merlin looks down. Judging by the flush spreading over his face, he wasn't aware of his state of undress. "I-um-what?" Merlin flails, though he doesn't actually move.
He's heavier than he looks, and Arthur's warm where Merlin's pressed up against him. He doesn't push Merlin off.
"You don't remember anything?"
"We were-" Merlin screws up his face and is obviously racking his memory. "We were riding back from Trewarmitt, and then I woke up here." He looks about himself in bemusement.
"Did you eat many sweetmeats from the vendor there?" Arthur asks.
Merlin looks equal parts puzzled and guilty. Back to normal, really. "A few," he says, and Arthur translates that as Merlin-speak for far too many.
"Did they taste at all unusual?" Arthur asks.
Merlin sits and thinks. "Maybe?" he says vaguely. "They were sort of-fizzy." He scrubs at his face as though he's still half asleep.
Arthur rolls his eyes. "And you still ate them? You idiot."
"What happened?" Merlin asks warily.
Arthur grins. This is going to be good. "You turned into a baby," he says. "The sweetmeats must have been magic."
Merlin goes pale. "A baby?" he repeats, looking even more bewildered.
Arthur imagines the situation in reverse. Imagines being turned into a baby and Merlin having to look after him. He winces. Then he remembers the cushion bombardment and Merlin's gleeful expression every time he hit Arthur, and the way he merrily peed down Arthur's leg.
"It's fine," Arthur says, inspired by the perfect revenge. "It wasn't a problem. Morgana looked after you."
Merlin goes even whiter. "Morgana," he whispers.
Arthur nods seriously.
Merlin slides off Arthur's lap and onto the floor. Arthur thinks he whimpers.
Tomorrow, Arthur will tell him the truth. And have that conversation, the one about magically dancing cushions and exactly how that could have happened. For now, though, he's going to enjoy the moment.
"Gwen helped her," he says. "With, you know, changing and things."
This time the whimper is unmistakable.
//
In case you didn't check it out from the story header, here's the inspiration for baby!Merlin. Do watch it.