Feelings Are Gross Things

Arthur should have known that Guinevere would be completely unsympathetic to his plight.

"I just want things to go back to normal," the king grits out as he paces about the room. Gwen, seated at the table to do a bit of needlework, rolls her eyes.

"Things will never go back to normal if you refuse to acknowledge the real reason why you're upset with Merlin," the queen argues sensibly. Arthur stops pacing abruptly, whirling to face his wife.

"What on earth are you talking about?" he demands.

"Just admit to yourself that you're more upset about the fact that she lied to you than the fact that she's not as womanly as you would expect her to be."

"She's not womanly at all," Arthur grumbles. "Girls aren't supposed to dress and act in such a way that they are mistaken for boys!"

Gwen sighs and finally sets her needlework aside. "Really, Arthur, it's not as if you haven't known women who don't act perfectly courtly and feminine at all times. I've heard Mithian, whom you almost married, has quite a love for hunting. Elena would rather spend all her time riding horses than being courtly and has a great distaste for high heeled shoes. Morgana insisted on learning to wield a sword."

"Merlin wears pants, Gwen. Pants!"

"Isolde wore pants," Gwen points out cooly.

"She had need of them," Arthur insists stubbornly because if they keep arguing about the little stuff then he doesn't have to admit that Gwen's analysis of the situation is correct. "Merlin just wears them because she feels like it."

"Have you actually asked her why she prefers pants to dresses?"

"...Well," Arthur starts but the words stick in his throat. No, to be honest. He's usually more focused on convincing her to exchange pants for a skirt rather than the reasons behind it. Gwen rolls her eyes. In a very queenly manner of course.

"Instead of trying to force her into a dress," the queen suggests, resuming her needlework, "try asking why she so stubbornly insists on not wearing one." Gwen turns away from him with a finality that says their conversation is over. Arthur, though he has mountains of paperwork to look over and sign, sits back in his seat to stare up at the ceiling and think.

It's not that it's hard, per se, to find an opportunity to bring up Merlin's choice of attire. It's just that Arthur doesn't know how to talk about...well, anything of a vaguely personal nature. He tries to tell himself that all he wants to know is why Merlin is so intent on remaining in a pair of breeches, but with Gwen's all too accurate observations bouncing around constantly in the back of his mind Arthur can already see the eventual devolution of the conversation into feelings. He doesn't like talking about feelings. Not even with his wife, much less his best friend/servant/cause of every headache he's had in the past six years. Unfortunately, Gwen keeps giving him looks and Merlin is getting more and more vindictively snarky with every passing day and then one day, while looking over reports from the border patrol while Merlin does her chores, he just sort of blurts it out.

"Are you sure you don't want to wear a dress to the feast tonight?" Arthur asks, as if continuing a previous conversation. Merlin casts him a suspicious look.

"Why does it matter what I wear to the feast?" she counters, smoothing her hands over the newly made covers of the bed. "Last I checked, nobody really cares about the feast attire of servants."

"I know that," the king grumbles. "I just-"

"And in any case, pants are more convenient."

Arthur frowns, "Convenient? What has convenience got to do with it?"

"Everything. Haven't you noticed that feasts in Camelot have this tendency to end in disaster? That's why I can't wear a dress."

"Guinevere wears dresses to feasts."

"Guinevere is the queen."

"So?"

"It's different."

"Is this why you refuse to wear dresses at all? Because it's inconvenient?"

"Arthur," Merlin says, sounding highly exasperated, "have you ever tried going on a quest in a dress? It doesn't work."

"Fair enough," Arthur concedes, because he can see how an excess of fabric getting in the way of your legs could prevent you from evading bandits and aggressive magical creatures. "But we aren't on a quest."

"I believe I've already covered that as well."

"Just wear a dress Merlin, it won't kill you."

"I beg to differ. Whether or not I have to worry about tripping over skirts in the event of an enemy attack could very well be the difference between life and death."

"Camelot is at peace right now."

"I've noticed not everyone always gets the memo."

"Just for this one feast, Merlin. Come on."

Merlin pauses in her chores to give Arthur a wary look. "Why are you so persistent about getting me to wear a dress to the feast?" she asks suspiciously. Arthur pointedly doesn't fiddle with the hem of his shirt. He can do this. Despite the fact that asking Merlin this one question has the potential to open a whole other can of worms that Arthur doesn't really want to even acknowledge exists. Merlin has this way of seeing past all the bluster to the things that Arthur doesn't want to say because he doesn't talk about feelings damn it! He has to do this though. He just has to spit it out.

"Why are you so persistent about not wearing a dress to the feast?" He tries to make it sound casual or accusing, but Merlin's eyes narrow perceptively and the suspicion in her gaze melts away to contemplation.

"What's this really about Arthur?" Merlin asks.

"I don't know what you're talking about." Gods, he's a coward. He should work on that. It's very unkingly.

Merlin makes a frustrated noise. "For fucks sake! Just spit it out! If you want to sack me just say so!"

"I don't want to sack you!"

"Well good because I have no intention of quitting, no matter how much of an ass you're being!" Merlin looks him over. Softening her tone she says, "Really, Arthur, what's bothering you? Do you honestly hate my being a woman that much?"

Arthur looks away, cards his fingers roughly through his hair. "I hate that I didn't know," he finally says, doesn't say, I hate that you didn't tell me, but Merlin hears it anyway. She sighs.

"I'm sorry," Merlin tells him, looking him in the eye with such sincerity that Arthur nods without thinking, accepts the apology. "I didn't come here intending to pretend to be a man," she continues. "It just sort of...happened. And then I realized that it would be considered inappropriate if anyone realized your personal servant was a girl and by that point I..." Merlin's arms flail about in an attempt to articulate what she wants to say via dangerous uncoordinated limb movements.

Neither of them are that good at admitting that they matter to each other. Their entire relationship to date has been based on friendly animosity. Admitting that Arthur actually likes having Merlin around and that Merlin actually likes being there goes against that.

Arthur clears his throat. "Yes, right, I see," he says because he does, even if there's a bit of resentment still boiling under the surface. Why does everyone feel the need to lie to him? "Are you absolutely positive you won't be wearing a dress to the feast?"

Merlin's only reply is to chuck a pillow at his head.

A/N: I originally had something else written up for part 5. But it sucked. And I have no idea how to fix it. So I finally caved and decided to use something else. Sorry it's been so long. Life and original novels and all that. I do like writing this though so I hope to keep it going for a while longer.

I'm still not entirely certain I want to involve a romantic relationship in this. That being said, if I do decide to go with romance, I've decided on the pairing. Which I'm not going to tell you because then it wouldn't be a surprise and where's the fun in that?

Feel free to provide prompts and ideas for future parts.

And thank you to all who have patiently waited for me to get my shit together and post part 5 and all you people who leave reviews that make me smile. You guys rock.