A/N: creds to my friend chalupa_tyler for the idea. Again. Sorry fam for bringing your stuff to life with bad writing.

Summary: You're filling in for Merlin as Arthur's servant for the day.

   You're carrying a basket of the Prince's laundry, on your way to his quarters. Merlin has gone out for the day and you were told to act in his place for the time being. Gaius insisted he could do without the aid of an assistant for the day, regardless of how much you insisted. In all honesty, you preferred sorting herbs and delivering old mens' medicines to the idea of serving the charming, but douche-y royalty Camelot recognizes as Prince Arthur.
   Following the corridor, you run into Guinevere, dropping the basket. "Oh! I'm so sorry!" She says. "I didn't see you there." You begin gathering up the scattered garments with her help. "Where are you off to?" She asks, handing you the basket. "I have to bring the Prince his laundry. Merlin isn't here," you tell her. "Are you in charge of him all day?" You nod, "Until Merlin returns." Gwen makes a face. "I'm so sorry," she laughs. "Well, good luck with that. Don't let Arthur drive you mad."

Continuing on your way down the corridor, you wrack your brain to remember which door is Arthur's. First one? ...Second? Or could it be the fifth..? You stop to think.

....

"Well, if I get the wrong door, I'll just apologize and politely ask for directions," you decide in your head. Choosing a door, you knock and ready yourself for some stranger to answer. Arthur opens the door, immediately confused. You almost drop your basket again.

He's got no shirt.

   "I–I've got your laundry, your highness," you stutter, frantically trying to hide the blush that had your face  b u r n i n g  at the sight of his bare chest.

....

   "You're not Merlin."
"Am I not?"
   He stares at you for a moment, absolutely perplexed. He finally opens the door to let you in, but not before giving you a weird look. (You know the one.)

   You set the basket of clothing down on the table and begin sorting, trying to ignore the handsome–but dumb–prince behind you. Everything's quiet for a few minutes, so you turn to see what he's doing. Turns out he's still standing where you left him at the door with that baffled look on his face. "So if you're not Merlin..." he starts, pointing at you as he goes. You can't resist laughing. "What's so funny?" He asks. You just shake your head and continue with your work.
After another moment's silence: "Where's Merlin?"
You put down the shirt you'd been folding and turn to face the young prince, leaning against the table. "He's not here, obviously," you point out. He glares at you. "You're just like him, I can tell," he says. You smile, "Good then. This shouldn't be much of a change." Arthur's face drops as you return to the basket of clothes. "Don't tell me he's gone and quit."
You shake your head, fighting the urge to laugh again. "Don't worry, sire," you say. "Your boyfriend hasn't left you."
"Wha–he's not–I–"
"He's just left for the day," you continue before Arthur can form a coherent sentence. "Can't say why, but he should be back by the day's end. I'm taking his place as your servant until then." He furrows his brows. "Soooo, instead of Merlin, I'm going to be dealing with a strange serving girl whom I've never meet–who also acts like Merlin.." You pause for a moment, "I'm sorry, my lord, is that a problem?" He looks at you. "Nope." ...... "Just as long as you don't keep acting like him." You chuckle, turning around again. "Would that really be so bad?"
   He goes silent again, moving closer so that you're inches apart. You watch wide-eyed as he searches your face. The awkward way he's looking at you. "....Are you sure you're not Merlin," he asks, returning his eyes to yours. "I can assure you, lord, I am not your manservant," you say, pushing him away gently.
   Arthur nods a bit, then grabs a shirt you just folded. "Well if you're gonna be doing Merlin's job....dress me." You can feel yourself immediately turn beet red. "Well come on," he says, holding the shirt out to you. You catch yourself gawking at his chest as you try to slip his shirt up over his head, which proves rather difficult seeing as he's standing like a statue (being the prat he is) and you're a bit shorter than him. Eventually with enough struggling you get the shirt halfway onto his head. Well, you get it stuck halfway on his head, but that's close enough. He grabs your wrists to get you to stop, fixing the shirt properly on his own. He smiles at you, laughing. "Don't laugh at me," you cross your arms. "You're definitely more entertaining than Merlin," he says, watching you. "I'll tell him you said that," you tease. "Oh trust me," he chuckled. "I'll tell him myself."

   The two of you are silent for a while, trying to power through the awkward tension you created. "Will that be all, my lord?" You ask finally. Arthur looks at you for a moment. "For now....
   But–uh–just one more thing."
"Yes, lord?"
  "Stop addressing me like that."
"Sorry, lor– ...well what would you have me call you then?"
  "My name." Arthur grins. "If we're to be dealing with each other all day, we might as well make it tolerable at the least." You nod politely, "Of course, Arthur." His name sounds strange–but nice–the way it rolls off your tongue. He's staring at you expectingly, but you have no clue what he's wanting. "Well? What's your name, girl?" He asks. You suddenly feel clumsy–foolish. It's like you can't speak properly, nor can you think straight. It's a weird and hard to explain feeling. But it's a nice one. "Oh–uh–[Y/N]," you finally say, embarrassed for no real reason. "Well Oh–Uh–[Y/N], allow me to say I'm eager to see what a day with you brings."

• • •

   "Merlin!" Arthur calls, startling the young boy. "Where on earth have you been?" "Running–uh–errands?" Merlin says slowly. The fact that he's making stuff up as he goes would be apparent to anyone with a level head. Arthur is unaware. Of course. Arthur stares at him for a while before beginning to pass him, slapping the back of his shoulder. "Ah. No matter," the prince smiles. "You should do that and have [Y/N] cover you more often." Merlin furrows his brows. "I'm sorry–who?" He asks, turning to watch Arthur walk away. "The serving girl," Arthur says from down the hall. "She's like you, but pretty."
  "Wh–"