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Arthur would never classify himself as the creative type.
He was an analytical type through and through. He was skilled in math and science and history and was rather confused when art or writing or music came into play.
Not that he didn’t enjoy those things, in fact, he was a huge fan of creators, people with skills that could help him escape from reality, that could offer vibrant colors to his dull, grey life.
But then, Merlin came into the picture.
Merlin with his dumb crooked smile, Merlin with blue and purple and pink and orange colors’ stained on his fingers and his shirts, Merlin and his sweet cinnamon scent, Merlin and his different shades of ties, Merlin and his focused looks—tongue licking his lips unconsciously, his eyebrows scrunched together, his teeth biting his lip.
Merlin was the color that Arthur always needed and he relished in it, realizing just how much he missed out on.
And Arthur was happy, having finally found the light he had always wanted.
But tonight, he almost wished he didn't have such a creative, talented, and driven boyfriend.
He loved him, he truly did, but anniversaries were always such a hassle.
Merlin would always bring him such thoughtful presents—last year he had painted a portrait of his mother and had given it to him as a gift, the year before that they had spent their time in the town that his mother grew up in, revisiting some of her places as he told him stories he’d heard from other people since his father was always too sad to talk about it.
Like, how was he meant to compare to him?
On the first anniversary, he had gotten him a card with a happy anniversary on it and a picture of their first date. Merlin had been happy, loved it even, but with how much effort Merlin had put into his gift, he felt like he had somehow failed on his present.
So, the next year, he promised himself he was going to do something even more special. He was going to prove to Merlin that he was a worthy boyfriend, someone who was just as creative and thoughtful as him.
Except, he had no ideas.
Zero.
Literally, nothing came to mind.
So, he did the only thing he could do: he called up his friends to ask for help.
The genius ideas he was given?
"Why don’t you get him a teddy bear with his name on it?” Gwaine suggested.
“Oh, that’s a great idea,” Elyan agreed. “Ooh, get him one of those singing ones!”
“And don’t forget to make it public,” Percival added. “That will make him feel special!”
Arthur stared, horrified, as the three of them continued to giggle about this terrifying idea, adding ideas about special effects and jumpscares.
Gwen, Leon, and Lancelot all gave him pitying smiles, while Morgana snickered in the corner. “I’m with them,” she said finally, pointing to the giddy children namely Gwaine, Elyan, and Percival. “I think their idea is genius.”
“Of course, you’d think that,” he grumbled, running his hands through his hair. “Anyone else got any other ideas?”
Gwen seemed rather sympathetic to his predicament, patting him on the shoulder. “I’m sure whatever you get him he’ll love.”
“Gwen, none of my gifts are… thoughtful, meaningful. What am I going to do?”
“You’re going to realize that Merlin will be happy to receive anything,” Lance cut in. “Trust me, the man nearly cried when I stopped at his favorite ice cream shop to buy him a mint chocolate ice cream. He’s an easy person, he’ll be happy with whatever you get him.”
“If you gave him like… a shitty poem you had written, I’m sure he would weep tears of joy,” Leon said nonchalantly.
That’s when the light bulb went off in his mind.
Oh. Gods.
He knew what he had to do.
“I’ll write him a poem!”
The entire group froze, staring at him with so much horror and confusion as if he were a demon who had come back from hell itself.
“Are… are you sure that’s a good idea?” Gwaine, the king of good ideas, asked.
“I… yes? ” Arthur responded. “Merlin loves poetry! And he’s a romantic at heart. I’m sure he’ll love a good poem.”
“Right, but you aren’t a poet,” Gwen said.
“And you certainly don’t like poetry,” Morgana added.
“What?” Arthur said, not sounding like a liar at all. “I… love poetry.”
Leon raised his eyebrows. “What’s your favorite poet?”
Arthur gulped, biting his lip. Merlin had told him tons of different poems and poetry books that he enjoyed, it just seemed that at the moment he was blanking on any of those at the moment. “Um… Dr. Seuss?”
Leon opened his mouth before shutting it. “I mean… well… alright then.”
“Guys, this is going to be incredible,” he said, grinning at them, willing them all to believe him. “I am going to write the best poem anyone has ever laid eyes on.”
And he truly believed that as he got up from his chair, sending them one more cheery smile, before bounding out the door.
So, he was an idiot.
He didn’t realize this poetry thing… took actual effort, unfortunately.
People spent months working on their craft, honing their skill, and coming up with creative lines that actually meant something on a deeper level.
Arthur had one night, some crumpled up pieces of paper, and zero knowledge about poetry or how to write one.
He looked up metaphors and similes, even cliche ones, as a way to explain every little detail he loved about Merlin Ambrosius.
He looked up images and found graphics that would make the poem at least look prettier, even if it wasn’t all that pretty.
Gods, this was awful.
He was awful.
How could he be preparing his anniversary gift literally the night before?
Merlin probably bought him his favorite… whatever it was, in the world, and Arthur’s only gift would be this crappily put together poem he made last minute.
He was so screwed.
Why did he ever think this was a good idea?
Maybe he should’ve gone with Gwaine’s idea all along…
He called up Gwen, in a mid panic, hoping she would be able to help.
He didn’t even wait for her to say hello before he was ranting to her about how horrible his gift was for Merlin and how he was a terrible boyfriend and how he shouldn’t have waited until the last minute to finish something.
“What do you think I should do?” he asked finally when he was out of breath.
“Well, I think you should probably check who you’re calling first before you spill your guts out on a phone call,” came the familiar, rich voice of his boyfriend.
Arthur yelped, dropping his phone on the floor.
“Arthur? Arthur, are you alright?”
He swallowed, still unable to believe that he accidentally called Merlin instead of Gwen. In his state of panic, he must’ve clicked on the wrong number, but still. How the hell did he literally always fuck things up?
Finally, when he realized Merlin was genuinely terrified for him, he picked up the phone, his fingers slightly shaking. “Sorry, sorry,” he said, trying to keep his calm.
“Arthur, are you alright?”
“Yeah, I’m fine.” He went to sit down at his desk and looked down at his clock. “Happy anniversary, babe.”
“Arthur…” Merlin said quietly. “You don’t have to be that stressed about getting me a gift.”
“Well, I just…” Arthur sighed. “I just want to give you the best gift because you deserve the best gift and I just… I feel bad because you always give me these thoughtful presents, and I always… I always end up giving you… well, not that good of a present.”
“That’s not true,” he said sincerely. “I love your presents.”
“Didn’t I give you a pen one year that I had found on the floor?”
“I thought it was a lovely pen!”
“Merlin.”
“Arthur.”
There was a pause before Merlin said, “I really don’t care what you get me, Arthur. The only reason I get you all those gifts are because I think you deserve all the gifts in the world.”
Arthur nearly froze, his heart beating erratically. “Really?”
There was no hesitation in his voice as he said, “Really.”
Arthur bit his lip before asking, “So, you really don’t care about how terrible my gifts are?”
“Arthur, love, you’re the best gift I could ever ask for,” he said and Arthur was an absolute puddle, he had no idea why he had ever been so lucky to have such a wonderful boyfriend. “And even getting a present from you would already mean a lot, I don’t need anything super thoughtful or creative.”
“Ah, well then I have the perfect poem for you.”
“Yeah?” Merlin hummed. “And what’s that?”
“Roses are red,
Violets are blue,
I hope you know,
How much I love you.”
He could hear Merlin’s smile in his voice. “I love you too, Arthur.”
“Good, because I’m kind of proud of that one,” Arthur said, causing Merlin to laugh.
“What was your original poem going to be?”
Arthur blushed profusely, eyeing his original poem. “Uh… something about how blue your eyes were and how they kinda were like violets… which brought me back to the roses are red, violets are blue idea and… yeah.”
Merlin laughed on the call and he could imagine the way that his head was tilted back, the way that his smile made his face glow.
“Maybe we should practice learning… how to write together?”
Arthur nearly tripped on his way out of his chair. “You would do that?”
“Anything for my greatest gift,” Merlin said, teasing him.
“Oh, you want to see just how great a gift I am?”
Merlin chuckled and Arthur joined in, laughing until their sides hurt.
“Well, I’ll see you tomorrow,” Arthur said finally, yawning.
“Get some sleep,” was Merlin’s response.
“You do too, he replied before finally turning off his phone and climbing into bed, a smile plastered on his face.
Perhaps, he was creative all along.