Archive of Our Own

Newcastle is behind spectacularly at halftime and Arthur can barely contain his frustration. He should be out there on the pitch with his fellow rugby players scoring points, but instead he’s up in the stands with a brace around his shin, suffering while he watches Hartpury smash every chance of his team scoring.

“Fuck,” Arthur curses, his fist coming down hard on his thigh as the referee whistles and the players trot off the pitch, Newcastle looking dejected. Percival stoops, his head hanging low, which is ridiculous considering he’s usually towering half a head over everyone else. Arthur wants to grab him by his absurd biceps and shake some motivation into him. He has half a mind to go down and get them all riled up for the second half of the game. Only the long way to the team changing rooms, and the fact that he’s so slow on his crutches, keep him from getting up to do so.

“It’s because you’re not down there,” Morgana mutters from his right and reaches over to briefly rub Arthur’s tense shoulders in comforting circles. Her hand is warm even through the thick material of his wool jacket.

“You’ll be back soon,” Merlin suggests, briefly placing a hand on Arthur’s knee and squeezing. Instead of withdrawing like Morgana, his hand stays there, warm, meant to be soothing and also, unsettlingly welcome.

“By then we’ll be out of the running,” Arthur moans, trying not to think too much about Merlin’s hand on him. It’s just a comforting gesture, like Morgana rubbing his shoulder, but the touch leaves him hot and bothered and wishing Merlin would move his hand higher, to the inside of his thigh. He has a flash of Merlin’s long, nail bitten fingers skimming over his skin, sliding towards his groin and it’s much too appealing.

Next to him, Merlin sighs and withdraws his hand with one last rub down Arthur’s thigh. Arthur has a hard time deciding whether he’s relieved or disappointed, wondering if Merlin can sense his confused feelings. When he looks to his left, Merlin doesn’t seem bothered, so he mustn’t give himself away.

“There’s always next year,” Merlin suggests soothingly, raising his gingerbread oat milk latte to his mouth and taking a sip, smiling at Arthur from behind the cup. He’s windswept and autumn-pale, his dark, curly hair untamed and misbehaving, his eyes incredibly blue, like the clear, crisp sky overhead. The red scarf around his neck picks up the colour of his stained cheeks, rosy and healthy, prompted by the cool, early October wind.

He looks so good that Arthur has a hard time looking away. It’s become a real problem these days. He’s known Merlin for two years now, ever since they both started at Newcastle. While their first, rather antagonistic encounter (Merlin never knew when to keep his mouth shut) hadn’t indicated a strong friendship in the future, they had quickly grown close over a semester full of challenging architectural assignments.

Sometimes Arthur isn’t sure why Merlin wants to be friends with him. He’s quite boring and predictable, everything Merlin isn’t. There’s something vibrant about Merlin, like he’s just that little bit more alive than everyone else. Everything about him is a contradiction: his pale skin and dark hair, his face full of stark angles and softly curved lips, his loud mouthiness and endearing clumsiness, his earnest intelligence and dirty wit. Added to which, for all his sweet smiles and caring personality, Merlin is one “BadAssMotherFucker” (™ by Gwaine), who surprisingly throws a mean punch and doesn’t even flinch when he nearly cuts off his finger in a workshop class and who tosses back insolent and sharp-witted words whenever someone questions him and Arthur feels that Merlin is definitely the best pick if he ever had to survive the apocalypse with someone (aka share the rest of his life with).

He’s infinitely interesting, in so many ways - and Arthur is not.

It doesn’t help that Arthur finds Merlin confusingly attractive, and Arthur hadn’t really been aware he was into blokes until Merlin had waltzed into his life with his stupid loose jeans, pert arse, full lips and cheeky, insolent grin.

So while Arthur has still been trying to figure out if it’s just Merlin he’s attracted to, because Merlin is so different from his macho, rough rugby player friends, Merlin has fully embraced being with whoever just caught his fancy. It’s not like Merlin is a slut - he’s much too sweet and thoughtful for sleeping around like their mutual friend Gwaine - but Merlin is somewhat of a serial dater, unconcerned about gender and so terribly likeable that there’s no shortage of people just lining up to go out with him. He’s courageous and unapologetic about his relationships and the people he likes and Arthur has seen him date a whole bunch of terribly interesting people - people Arthur felt are much more alluring than him.

Merlin is still smiling when he lowers his cup, a bit of milk foam sitting on his upper lip and Arthur shudders, wanting very much to lean forward and lick the residue from his lips. It’s Merlin who does it for him, his pink tongue darting out, cleaning off the froth, his eyes fond. It makes Arthur feel bad for all the dirty, dirty thoughts he’s been having. He entertains them secretly late at night, usually briefly before he falls asleep, where everything is hazy and he’s not too concerned with examining the whys and what-does-it-means, or feeling guilty about beating off to thoughts of his best friend sucking him off.

Arthur turns in his seat again, amused by Morgana’s frown as she stares up at the big screen, a disgusted expression on her face. It’s nice having his sister in town for the weekend before she returns to London. They are better off as siblings now they aren’t living under the same roof anymore.

He looks up as well, where on the screens, the goal replays have stopped and made way for the kiss-cam audience entertainment, the cause of Morgana’s distaste. It’s stupid and it’s American and it’s been showing up through halftime at the bigger games more and more often. The camera will zoom in on a couple in the stands and the pair selected will be expected to kiss. Compliance is met with cheers from the audience, refusal with mocking and angry whistles. Arthur thinks it’s barbaric.

“Ugh,” Morgana retches from beside him, watching a happy couple laugh at each other and kiss lovingly for the cameras while the audience whistles and cheers frenetically. “Misogynistic, homophobic, heteronormative, racist bullshit.”

“It’s humiliating,” Merlin agrees, “like the kind of bullying that happens at teen-parties. Just for adults.”

“Are you talking spin-the-bottle or seven-minutes-in-heaven humiliating?” Arthur asks, glancing sideways to find Merlin wrinkling his nose as another apparent couple shrugs and blushes and gives each other a peck on the big screen to polite, but unenthusiastic applause.

“At least spin-the-bottle was kind of inclusive,” Merlin mutters and sips his latte. “I got to kiss my school crush. He socked me afterwards. That helped with the unrequited crushing,” he notes dryly.

“Ouch,” Arthur winces in sympathy.

“I bet you never got socked,” Merlin muses and suddenly turns to look at him, contemplating him with a cute little wrinkle of his nose. “Arthur Pendragon, Captain of the rugby team. I bet everyone creamed their panties just thinking about seven minutes in heaven with you.”

Arthur opens his mouth to say that no, no one ever socked him, but that seven-minutes-in-heaven was just painfully awkward, when Morgana suddenly curses next to him.

“What?” he asks, and when he looks up, he realises it’s his own face on the big screen staring back at him, wide-eyed and caught. In the heart-shape frame next to him, Morgana visibly blanches.

“She’s my sister, come on!” Arthur calls, and while people nearby start laughing at his plight, the greater audience can’t hear him, whistling and cheering and demanding a tribute.

“Come on!” he yells in frustration, but the cheers turn to more whistling and it’s sounding less and less encouraging. Someone booes and other jeers follow. He glances helplessly at Morgana, who looks back at him as if she’d been sucking on a lemon half.

“Oh, fuck it,” Merlin mutters, then reaches over and presses his latte in Morgana’s hands. “Hold this, will you?” he asks, and while she still blinks at him, perplexed, Merlin reaches for the lapels of Arthur’s coat and turns him sideways.

“You can sock me later, okay?” he says softly, and before Arthur can catch on to what the hell is happening, Merlin hauls him closer, pressing their mouths together.

His lips are soft, even though the kiss is firm and he tastes like cinnamon and gingerbread. Arthur gasps softly, shocked, but Merlin doesn’t let up. One of Merlin’s hands makes its way into Arthur’s hair, fingers threading into the wind-swept strands to hold him close. Arthur, through a dense fog of overwhelming confusion, is aware that around them, the audience is cheering and hollering, whistling and going frantic with excitement about the sudden plot twist. The stands are booming with the resounding patter of hundreds of feet stomping their approval.

Merlin’s lips gentle on his, but he doesn’t draw back yet, his mouth lingering for another moment. He pulls back slowly and Arthur blinks his eyes open, staring in surprise at Merlin’s face, so close, his freckles standing out in the paleness of his face, sooty lashes resting low on his cheeks.

“Sorry,” Merlin says softly, then unwraps his fingers from Arthur’s hair and clothes and clears his throat. He reaches out and takes his coffee back from Morgana, not commenting on the gobsmacked expression on her face, then takes a sips from his coffee, like absolutely nothing happened.

“Oh God, why didn’t I sit in the middle seat?” Morgana breathes, staring at Merlin with wide eyes. “He wasted a brilliant kiss on you!”

Arthur clears his throat and licks his lips, tasting spice and coffee.

Next to him, Merlin shifts, and when Arthur looks over, there’s a faint blush on his cheeks, but he’s still staring straight ahead, a carefully nonchalant expression on his face.

“Uhm, thank you, I guess” Arthur rasps out, barely able to find his voice. “I really wouldn’t have wanted to kiss my sister.”

“You’re welcome,” Merlin mutters, his cheeks growing redder. “Glad I could be the lesser of the evils.”

Arthur wants to protest, but just then, halftime is over and the players return to the pitch, while loud music plays, and get into position. Merlin is calmly sipping his coffee, his face half-buried in his scarf, fingers wrapped tightly around his cup.

Unable to form words, Arthur turns towards the game again. His fingers are sweaty and he finds himself impulsively rubbing them over his thighs. He’s dimly aware of the semi he’s sporting and he shifts, valiantly attempting not to relive what just happened. His lips are warm and moist and the smell of Merlin’s gingerbread latte lingers enticingly.

The rest of the game passes in a daze. Newcastle loses, but Arthur’s too confused and distracted to really get agitated about it. It feels like something enormous happened - but glancing over at Merlin’s indifferent face, he’s not so sure about it.

*-*

It’s been seven days since Merlin kissed him at the rugby match against Hartpury and they haven’t talked about what happened. They haven’t talked, but Arthur has been thinking obsessively about it. How Merlin’s lips pressed against his, so sure and soft. How his breath smelled like coffee and cinnamon. How his long, damn fingers felt, tangled in Arthur’s hair.

He regrets that the kiss was so short. He regrets that he didn’t reciprocate. He regrets that he didn’t just pull Merlin in for another kiss.

On Sunday afternoon, Arthur sits in the library, trying to finish the assignment that’s due on Monday. He didn’t write down his citations properly the first time, so he’s now checking them all, and it’s tedious work. He keeps getting distracted by the way the leaves are tossed around in the yard just outside the window he’s sitting at. It’s stormy, but sunny, and he’d rather be outside, enjoying the sunshine on his face. He’s not ready, yet, to go for a longer walk though and the braces are uncomfortable enough just getting around where he absolutely needs to go. At least he lost the crutches on Wednesday - it feels like a step in the right direction.

He’s surprised when someone clunks their books and laptop down at the table across from him.

“Hi,” Merlin mouths, grinning from ridiculously large ear to ridiculously large ear. He wears a really nice red, knitted jumper that draws Arthur’s attention to the lean muscle of his arms.

Merlin’s not bulky like Arthur, but he’s surprisingly strong and his body is wiry. He goes bouldering twice a week at the boulder hall just off campus. Arthur went with Merlin once only to find out he’s afraid of heights. The boulder walls intimidated him with their bright knobs and overhangs. The place had an edgy, cool vibe and people sat around after climbing in the bar section out front, a graffitied, plant-filled space that served craft beer and vegan protein smoothies. Everyone had been lean and limber, climbing up the walls gracefully like it wasn’t anything special. Perpetually clumsy Merlin had shown astonishing poise and agility when he scaled the wall like it was nothing, proving that he wasn’t a total klutz all of the time. Arthur had felt heavy and stiff and completely out of his element, deciding at the end of the afternoon that he just wasn’t cool or bendy enough and should probably stick to wrestling other bulky people on a pitch.

Arthur licks his lips and tries not to think about how Merlin's arm muscles flex and smiles back at Merlin, because how could he not? Merlin, with his rosy cheeks and chaotic curls is the best thing he’s seen all day.

A cup of coffee is pushed across the table wordlessly, and the smell of it hits Arthur like a freight train. Ground coffee and just a dash of gingerbread and cinnamon. The same coffee Merlin had last Saturday and which now will forever be connected to Arthur’s inappropriate boners in public places.

Shifting on his seat, Arthur reaches for the cup, suppressing a startled noise when Merlin doesn’t draw his hand back quickly enough and their fingers brush. It’s like sparks exploding, zinging up his arm, and Merlin felt it too, because he snorts out soft laughter and snatches his hand back.

Arthur thinks he might look ridiculous, besotted and beaming too brightly, but the touch makes endorphins sing in his body. He tries to hide his blush by taking a sip of his coffee, before he belatedly remembers that he should say thanks, because that’s a thing you do.

Merlin quirks his lips at him, then raises his finger to his lips, shushing him with a twinkle of his eyes.

God, Arthur wants to jump across the table and tackle him to the floor. Instead he’s stuck here in the friendzone, where they are constantly close, but Merlin is dating people who aren’t Arthur.

For a while they work quietly. Whenever Arthur takes a break and glances up from his books, he finds Merlin raising his own gaze from his laptop, looking back at him, like he expects Arthur to address him.

Arthur feels like doing so, demanding to know what Merlin was thinking when he planted one on him at the game, but it feels too intimate, too desperate. He should have asked him a week ago. It’s too late now, too awkward.

So he goes back to his books and types out the required information, then formats his paper to send it in. He could use some more time to read up on another assignment that’s due on Wednesday, but it’s become dark outside and his stomach growls, letting him know that it’s time to stop.

When he shuts his laptop, he finds Merlin has been sitting across from him, his own laptop closed, fingers steepled.

“Do you maybe want to have dinner with me?” Merlin asks, and it comes out rushed and strangely clipped.

“What? Like now?” Arthur asks.

Merlin mouth works and he scrunches up his nose adorably. “Er… well, yes, of course.”

“Why not? The cafeteria is still open.” Arthur carefully gets up to push his laptop in his backpack, wincing at the stiffness of his leg after sitting for so long, not quite ready to look at Merlin’s face. For just a moment he thought Merlin meant something else and it did all kinds of things to his heart, making it beat that bit faster and skip a little.

“The cafeteria. Right. Yes, we can do that!” Merlin says, and when Arthur looks up again, Merlin has gotten up from the table with his bag under his arm. He looks a little flustered and it confuses the hell out of Arthur, but his voice sounds normal enough when he continues, “Maybe we can go to that Asian place I wanted to check out another time.”

“Oh?” Arthur prompts, falling into step next to Merlin as they make their way out the library.

“Freya told me about it.”

Freya had been Merlin’s girlfriend for about half a year when university had started. Arthur couldn’t understand how they were still on good terms, but Merlin claimed, ‘they were just better off as friends’, refusing to say anything else on the issue. Still, whenever Merlin mentions her name, Arthur feels white-hot jealousy rise in him. She looks sweet, but he doesn’t trust her. She had been stupid enough to let Merlin go, after all.

“Yeah. Uhm…,” Merlin shifts his laptop case on his shoulder and holds the door open, waiting for Arthur to pass through, “... she said it was really nice.”

“Of course. We could. If you haven’t gone there with someone else in the meantime,” Arthur says carefully.

Merlin hums thoughtfully and they walk side-by-side towards the cafeteria across the dark campus, Merlin slowing his stride so Arthur doesn’t have to limp along too obviously. It’s a considerate gesture, but it makes Arthur feel embarrassed.

They are silent for a while, and Arthur feels like he needs to say something, anything, to fill the void between them. It’s a strange thing - he usually doesn’t mind being quiet with Merlin, but right now it’s almost unbearable.

“You could take that dude from Statistics?” he blurts out.

“Hmmm?” Merlin stops underneath a lampost, turning to Arthur with a frown. The warm light spills over his face, casting his sharp features in bold angles, while simultaneously enhancing the sweet handsomeness of his face.

“I just meant, you maybe could take the friendly bloke with the curly hair to that Asian place you want to check out,” Arthur stutters, feeling heat rise in his face. “He’s been mooning like a desperate puppy.”

Merlin’s mouth twitches, but he doesn’t look amused. “Oh, you mean Mordred,” he says and sucks his bottom lip between his teeth for a moment, kneading it thoughtfully. “I’d rather not,” he adds. His lip is shiny and bitten-red, and Arthur finds himself guilitly eyeing his mouth.

“Why not?” he croaks.

Merlin shrugs and looks down at their feet. “I don’t feel like dating right now.”

“You’re always dating,” Arthur mutters inanely. “You love dating. You’re the perfect boyfriend.”

Merlin snorts and looks up from under his fringe of dark curls. “I’m certainly not.”

“You are,” Arthur protests, because he’s seen Merlin with his dates and he’s seen Merlin with his boyfriends and girlfriends over the last two years and Merlin is the most attentive, sweet and caring bloke anyone could date.

“I’m not,” Merlin counters, “and I don’t even like dating. I like meeting new people, I love hanging out with people and doing interesting things, yes, but dating - like in, ‘let me buy you dinner to see if we want to screw or even have a real relationship’ - is frustrating and sometimes boring and… I think I have just had enough of everyone turning out to be ‘not that person’, you know?”

“Maybe you expect too much?” Arthur suggests, trying to ignore the churning in his guts, like butterflies, only not as pleasant. More like a horde of elephants stampeding through his insides. When he starts walking again, Merlin falls into step next to him.

“Maybe,” Merlin echoes quietly, then almost like an afterthought, “I’d rather hang out with you.”

“We’re hanging out. A lot,” Arthur points out reasonably. It’s nice hearing Merlin say this though, but it’s also a reminder of the firm friendzone they are navigating.

“Yeah,” Merlin says and turns his gaze towards Arthur, a slow smile edging on his face. “Yeah, we do.”

“I’ll go with you to the Asian place, if you want. Right now, too.”

Merlin stops again, but it’s pitch dark on the path where they are now and Arthur can’t read his face.

“That’d be great. They have all these vegan options, I’m kind of really excited about it,” Merlin says, and the way his voice sounds all of a sudden, all bubbly and high, makes Arthur excited too, even though he really loves to eat meat.

“Let’s go then. You can pick something out for me you think I’d like, and if you fail, I will hold it against you for the rest of your days,” Arthur promises and Merlin hollers out a delighted laugh.

Arthur doesn’t know why he does it, but he bumps Merlin’s shoulder as they start walking again, and Merlin gives him a brilliant smile, teeth glinting. He wishes he could reach out and hold his hand instead of bro-bumping him into a lamp post. His fingers are desperately itching, his whole body humming. He doesn’t remember it being as bad before Merlin kissed him, all this unrequited longing, but now it feels like he’s constantly too aware of Merlin’s body in relation to his. Like the space they are occupying is charged with possibility.

It’s just me, Arthur tells himself, as they take the turn out of campus, past the cafeteria and towards the restaurant Merlin suggested.

It’s just me, Arthur thinks later, when Merlin offers him a piece of baked tofu and feeds it to him with his chopsticks, laughing at Arthur’s surprised appreciation.

It’s just me, Arthur reminds himself when they walk out of the restaurant and Merlin wraps the warm woolen scarf Merlin’s mother knitted around Arthur’s neck when Arthur shivers.

*-*

“Any plans for tonight? The lads are throwing a spontaneous craft beer party at Gwaine’s,” Leon says, as he exhales a cloud of smoke against the clear-blue autumn sky, outside the Studios during a break.

Arthur gave up on smoking when he started being serious about Rugby, but he still likes to take a break during his studio hours and stand outside, because otherwise he just works straight through, absorbed by his projects.

“I can’t. I’m going to the cinema with Merlin.”

It’s a bit like a date. Arthur could totally pretend it’s a date. They’ll be sitting in the dark with a paper bag full of popcorn and Merlin will let him sip from his coke. Now that Merlin isn’t really dating anyone, he has an awful lot of time to spend with Arthur and Arthur would be stupid to not take advantage of Merlin’s sudden availability. He can’t remember the last time he said no to Merlin.

“You could both come?” Leon suggests, taking another drag from his cigarette.

“Yeah,” Arthur mutters unenthusiastically, thinking of accidentally brushing his fingers over Merlin’s thighs while he gropes for the popcorn, “we’ve been planning this.”

“Come afterwards?”

Arthur shrugs and pushes his hands into the pockets of his coat against the cold. He doesn’t know what to say to that, because he knows he should jump at the opportunity for a beer party with the lads, but really, all he wants to do is spend a quiet evening with Merlin. He loves going to a pub and talking movies with Merlin for hours, undisturbed.

“Maybe,” he finally allows, burying his face deeper in his red scarf against a sudden gust of icy wind. It’s Merlin’s scarf, the one he gave him a couple of weeks ago. It still smells faintly like Merlin, even though Arthur never could determine what that Merlin smell is all about. It’s warm and spicy and a bit like herbal tea and it has the strange property of relaxing him instantly (while simultaneously making him slightly horny).

His face is stinging when they walk back inside and he makes his way towards his workstation where his project is waiting for him. The model is still two thirds unfinished and Arthur estimates it will take him another 40 hours to finish. He’s not naturally gifted when it comes to model-making and he hates the work. It’s too meticulous, too detailed for his taste. He hates fiddling with scissors and tweezers and he really doesn’t enjoy having glue on his fingers. He prefers to sit at the drawing board or do a model on the computer.

Sighing, he looks around his cluttered desk to locate his earplugs so he can at least put on some music to get him through the next hours. Merlin sent him a new playlist this morning - and Merlin’s playlists are usually the best, because unlike Arthur, he actually takes it upon himself to discover new music, the best of which he shares.

Arthur finds his earplugs next to a pile of magazines that have spilled across half of the upper part of the table and when he straightens the heap, his eyes land on a small chocolate bar, the kind of chocolate and peanut butter bar from the small organic supermarket on the other side of town, which Arthur loves, but is too lazy to actually get.

Attached to it is a small post-it, featuring Merlin’s messy scrawl. ‘Brain food’, it says, and next to the words is a small drawing of a zombie-Arthur munching away on a brain.

Smiling, Arthur picks it up, sticking the post-it onto the table close to him, before unwrapping the chocolate bar. It tastes just as good as he remembers and he feels his spirits lift. It’s gone way too quickly, and Arthur licks the taste of chocolate and peanut butter off his lips, before reaching for his phone.

“Thanks for the peanut butter bar,” he types. ”it was a life-saver.”

His messenger app pings three minutes later.

Oh my God, Pendragon. I put it on your desk a month ago!!

I guess I found it just when it was needed

Should I bring over more or are you good?

I’m good, I think

Look into your desk. Top drawer. I put a pack of crisps in there just before summer break. I bet you lost the post-it I wrote about that as well…

Frowning, Arthur opens his top drawer, the one that he never opens because it’s a mess of study notes and things he wants to throw away, but feels he shouldn’t because he might need them again. Indeed there is a small bag of bacon-flavoured Walkers crisps in it.

You are amazing he writes back, ripping open the bag.

I know

*-*

“Merlin?” Arthur calls, knocking against Merlin’s dorm room door again. It’s not like Merlin to oversleep when he has class.He texted him half an hour ago to tell him he was going to stop by to drop off a hoodie Merlin had lent him a couple of days ago and Arthur had suggested they could walk to class together and grab a cup of coffee on the way.

There’s no immediate answer, and Arthur strains his ears for any movement from inside. The thought occurs to him that Merlin might not be at home at all - maybe he’s out. Maybe he met someone last night and stayed over… . The thought makes his stomach churn with jealousy. He’s just about to give up and leave again, when suddenly the door is pulled open sharply and Merlin’s head pokes out, hair in wild disarray, his face flushed.

“Hi!” Merlin says too brightly, looking rushed.

Arthur pulls his bottom lip between his teeth and looks him over, trailing his eyes from the twin splotches of colour on Merlin’s cheeks to his glassy eyes and back down again to his clearly naked shoulders.

“Do you have someone in there?” he blurts before he can reign himself in, then blushes furiously at his own curious words.

If possible, Merlin’s face becomes even redder, but he shakes his head and opens the door some more, revealing his naked torso and low-slung pyjamas. “No,” he says softly, “I was just, you know…”

“Oh…,” Arthur licks his lips, his eyes falling on Merlin’s laptop perched on his desk, paused at what clearly is a porn scene, lots of naked flesh on display. He tries to make out the details, but fails beyond the fact that it’s two men, locked together back to front.

“Do you… do you want to come in?” Merlin asks awkwardly, clearing his throat.

“I…” Arthur swallows and tries to look anywhere but at Merlin’s naked torso, defying his desperate need to glance down to where possibly a bulge is tenting Merlin’s pyjama bottoms. “I wanted to get you for class and … uhm.. drop off your hoodie,” he says, relieved when his words come out clear and steady.

Merlin licks his lips and glances down at the wrapped-up bundle of cloth in Arthur’s hands. “Ah, thank you.” He doesn’t reach out to take it and they stand awkwardly, Merlin just inside his door, Arthur outside in the drafty hallway.

Just when Arthur wants to press the hoodie into Merlin’s hands, the words, “I don’t want to interrupt anything so you’d better get back to what you’re doing,” resting on the tip of his tongue, Merlin opens the door further.

“Come in,” he says softly and steps aside, letting Arthur inside.

Hesitantly, Arthur takes a step into Merlin’s messy room, carefully tiptoeing over books and papers and clothes strewn on the floor. It looks like a hurricane went through it, but it’s the usual state of Merlin’s living accomodation and therefore nothing out of the ordinary.

When Arthur looks up from stepping his feet around the diverse obstacles in his path, he finds Merlin fiddling with his computer, turning off the paused video. The long line of his naked back catches Arthur’s attention, and he stares, following the curve of Merlin’s spine to his tapered waist and the place where his arse meets lower back and the pyjamas cling to the rise of his arse cheeks. He has enticing, lickable dimples on his lower back and when he turns around, Arthur’s eyes are on level with the cut of his hips, the v-shape leading from his hips downwards, the sharp curve vanishing in his pyjama bottoms.

Sucking in a breath, Arthur looks up guiltily, feeling heat rise on his face.

In front of him, Merlin threads a hand through his bedhead hair, then points towards his unmade bed. “Uhm… you can… you can sit down, if you want. I’ll just get dressed. There’s tea in the pot on my desk if you want some.”

Porn and tea, Arthur thinks, and it’s somehow such a Merlin thing that he snorts out laughter, making Merlin look at him with a little smile.

“What?” Merlin asks, the sweetly confused smile playing around his generous mouth.

“You drank tea. And watched porn,” Arthur tries to explain, but Merlin’s expression is still bemused.

“Yeah? So?”

Arthur shrugs helplessly and sinks down carefully on Merlin’s bed, feeling weak-kneed and flustered. Underneath him, the messy sheets are warm from Merlin’s body and Arthur blinks, his mind supplying him with an image of Merlin splayed out on his back with his hand in his pyjamas, pulling on himself while he watches porn.

“I mean, do you usually drink tea while you wank?” Arthur hears himself say and wants to beat his head against the wall.

“No?” Merlin turns to him, holding a boxer short he just pulled from his dresser in his hand. “I usually wank while I wank,” he says dead-earnest, but there’s a little twinkle in his eye.

“Funny.”

Merlin rolls his eyes and shimmies out of his pyjama bottoms, unperturbed that Arthur is in the room with him, presenting Arthur with a perfect view of his long legs and firm arse. It’s not like they haven’t changed clothes in the presence of each other before, but somehow, it feels weird right now, with the knowledge of what Merlin had just been doing before Arthur came by.

Arthur looks away, finds his gaze drawn to Merlin’s open computer, where there’s a folder still open, showing a neatly labelled library. Of porn. Merlin is weird like that. Squinting, Arthur tries to make out the names of some of the folders.

“So… uhm, what kind of porn do you prefer to watch?” he asks, blinking when his eyes land on a folder that’s labelled unabashedly directly: Comeplay. A shiver races through him and he bites his lip hard, feeling himself stir in his jeans. Holy hell.

“It depends?” Merlin says, voicing it like a question, and Arthur turns around to find Merlin standing next to him with a t-shirt in hand, which he just picked up off the floor. He sniffs at it, like he wants to make sure it’s still clean, then shrugs and pulls it on. “On what I’m in the mood for,” he clarifies, tousled head emerging from his t-shirt.

Apparently, comeplay is something Merlin is in the mood for, Arthur thinks hazily, his mouth dry.

“What’s it like? Dating boys and girls?” Arthur asks, trying to make a smooth transition to another topic. “I mean, is it different? Do you prefer one or the other?”

Merlin halts in pulling on his jeans and looks at Arthur in contemplation, resting one hand on his hip, the other once more threaded in his hair, which seriously, isn’t getting better the more Merlin rakes his fingers through it.

“I think it’s boys,” Merlin says, then adds, “yes, I think I’m probably a 5 on the Kinsey scale, only incidentally heterosexual, you know? But girls are fun, too. - I just think I prefer men.” He shrugs, then adds, almost as an afterthought, “I just like dicks. Yeah. I think it’s that. Dicks are great.”

“Hah,” Arthur huffs, a startled, nervous reaction.

“I have some porn with girls, too, if you want to have a look,” Merlin suggests and slowly does up his fly with nimble, long fingers, still standing too close to Arthur for comfort. His fingers, Arthur thinks desperately, staring, his fingers that have been on his dick just moments earlier.

“I’m good,” Arthur says hoarsely, because he can’t admit that it’s not the het porn on Merlin’s computer he’s interested in. “I thought we could get a coffee on our way to class.”

“I’m buying,” Merlin says instantly.

“I should be buying, I mean, I totally… cockblocked you or something.”

Merlin grins. “It’s okay,” he says soothingly. Then, with a wicked gleam in his eyes that tells Arthur he’s only half-joking, “I’ll rub one out between classes in the loo. You can guard the toilet so I’m undisturbed, then I’ll call it even.”

Rolling his eyes, Arthur reaches out and shoves Merlin, laughing when he stumbles and almost trips over a pair of sneakers.

*.*

Merlin’s warm against his left side, a perfect isle of heat, toasting his body from shoulder down his flanks and hips and along his leg, where Merlin’s thigh is pressed against him. They are huddled underneath Merlin’s duvet with their backs against the wall on Merlin’s bed in his dorm room, watching Nightmare Before Christmas.

It’s cold in the room, just short of visible- blooms-of-breath-cold, because the heating in Merlin’s dorm is shit. Merlin pulled the duvet over both of them after they put the movie on, shivering a bit, nudging his icy fingers against Arthur’s flank. His cold fingers chill Arthur, even through two layers of shirts.

They eat gummy worms, the strange vegan kind that are always a little too soft, and sugar-coated almonds.

“I love this bit,” Merlin murmurs when Sally jumps out the window and then sews herself back together to go to Jack. “It’s the most romantic shit ever.”

“You want someone to jump out a window for you?” Arthur laughs and reaches out for the snack pack of almonds. The sugar crunches between his teeth, melting on his tongue.

“I want someone to love me so much they’d do anything to be with me,” Merlin clarifies and reaches for the thermos flask with mulled wine that Arthur had brought over. Elena, one of his fellow residents at Kensington Terrace, had put a huge pot in the kitchen to share. Their shared kitchen had smelled like a Christmas market.

Merlin unscrews the flask, then drinks messily from it, a drop of red wine escaping down his chin. “Here,” he says, lowering the flask and wiping the back of his hand over his chin, before he presses it into Arthur’s hands.

Dutifully, Arthur swigs down some more of the warm, spicy wine, thinking of how his lips are now where Merlin’s were, just a moment ago. Merlin’s lips. His surely warm, soft lips. The alcohol is slowly going to his head, potent and heated as it is, and he wonders what would happen if he leaned over, pressing a kiss to Merlin’s lips. Would Merlin kiss back, or splutter and laugh and ask if Arthur had too much to drink maybe?

“She also knows he’s wrong and that what he’s doing is going to possibly lead to disaster, and she does everything she can to prevent him from messing up, even though it might mean that he would possibly hate her,” Merlin muses, interrupting Arthur’s ideas of doing something reckless and possibly stupid.

“She makes him a better man… uh… skeleton,” Merlin continues, sounding a tiny bit tipsy.

Arthur snorts out laughter, slowly screwing the flask closed, before tossing it at their feet.

“You’re hopeless,” he says, but what he means is that Merlin is adorable, and his voice sounds fond.

Merlin hums in agreement, but then is once again caught up in the movie, mouthing the words to the next song, gummy worm hanging from his lips.

They watch the rest of the movie in silence, then switch to the original Day of the Dead from 1968, a DVD Merlin owns in a proper steelcase anniversary set and which he pushes into his USB-port DVD device. By then, they’ve emptied the flask between them and Arthur’s head is pleasantly swimming. He feels warm though, even though the tip of his nose is icy, but their bodies have heated up the space underneath Merlin’s duvet, producing a cocoon of warmth.

Just when he thinks that he should get going, because he’s getting really sleep-drowsy and the way to his own dorm room, albeit short, seems less and less appealing, he feels a weight sag against his side. It’s Merlin’s head, lolling onto his shoulder, his body slumped a bit sideways.

“Hey,” Arthur mutters softly, reaching out to nudge Merlin’s shoulder.

Merlin mumbles something incomprehensible but doesn’t budge, instead pressing closer, his parted lips puffing warm clouds of air against Arthur’s neck.

“Merlin,” Arthur says, louder.

“Hmmm, Arthur,.... warm…,” Merlin sighs with a small slur, his voice low and sleep-raw. “So… tired... ”

It feels nice, the way Merlin nuzzles closer and Arthur exhales softly. He should push Merlin off, but the way the long lashes rest low on Merlin’s cheek and his parted mouth looks slack and inviting, Arthur can’t bring himself to do it. He turns his head back to the screen of Merlin’s laptop sitting on his desk, but can’t really follow the movie, too conscious of Merlin’s warm weight against him.

He startles when Merlin starts sliding down his side and turns sideways, curling up with his head on Arthur’s thigh, mumbling something in his half-sleep.

He forgets all about the movie then, watches Merlin instead, the gentle rise and fall of his chest, his slack face. In the muted, blueish light from the laptop, he looks fragile and achingly beautiful. Arthur watches and watches and loses track of time, until he can’t resist sliding his fingers into Merlin’s curly hair anymore, the soft strands calling to him. Like this, he could almost pretend that Merlin is his to touch, that they aren’t just friends, that Merlin is more to him, his boyfriend.

The thought makes him shiver. He hadn’t considered being attracted to boys until he met Merlin and then it had been a rather surprising and sudden revelation. Being attracted to Merlin had made him realise all the other times in his life when he had lusted after boys but had thought it might have been envy. It had taken Arthur months to accept that his want of Merlin wasn’t going away and by then, they had been chin-deep in the friendzone and Merlin was always out on dates with people more colourful and more courageous than Arthur.

Merlin makes dating seem so effortless, so uncomplicated, like it’s nothing special. It’s strange to think that he doesn’t want to date right now, apparently has had enough of it. They haven’t talked about it and Arthur hasn’t asked for his reasons.

It’s great having all of Merlin’s attention, but Arthur is wary of the moment when Merlin gets bored and starts dating other people again, when Arthur’s predictable presence isn’t enough anymore. He will take what he can get, though. Like tonight. Just the two of them, with Merlin lying across his lap, his warm breath puffing against the fabric of Arthur’s jeans, heating the skin underneath.

Arthur curls his fingers around Merlin’s ear, moving his thumb gently behind it.

Merlin sleeps through his touch, curled up like a big cat, his breathing even and Arthur guiltily touches, his heart beating a bit too quickly, a bit too excitedly, until he finally calms down, lulled by Merlin’s quiet breathing and persistent sleep.

When Arthur wakes it’s early morning. The grey autumn light filters through the open blinds, casting the room in a diffuse light. He’s warm, too warm, and lying awkwardly on his side, a crink in his neck. When he shifts, a body shifts with him, a familiar voice, roughened by sleep, complaining.

“Go back to sleep,” Merlin mumbles, then reaches back and pats awkwardly along Arthur’s side, hitting his hip. “Too early.”

“Your bed’s too small,” Arthur complains, pushing Merlin forward so he can place his head differently. They are awkwardly wrapped up in the blankets and in each other. Arthur would panic if he was more awake.

In front of him, Merlin grumbles but moves, his hand still resting on Arthur’s hip, like he forgot he put it there. Arthur shifts, curling his body around Merlin’s to fit into the space provided.

Arthur falls back asleep with his face pressed against Merlin’s hair, their bodies aligning, his knees fitting neatly into the space behind Merlin’s, their similar heights perfect to wrap around each other.

*-*

“Oh God, what is it with you?” Elyan moans all of a sudden, and Arthur stops what he’s doing (picking mushrooms off his plate) and looks up to find his friend looking at him with a scowl, his expression puzzled and irritated.

“What?” Merlin asks in Arthur’s stead, frowning slightly as he drops a green bean onto the every-growing pile on Arthur’s plate.

“This!” Elyan says. “You’re exchanging food without even talking! It’s fucking scary, mate,” he huffs, pointing at Arthur’s fork, poised to deliver an unwanted cremini mushroom onto Merlin’s vegetable rice.

“I don’t eat string beans,” Merlin says slowly, like Elyan is dim-witted.

“You don’t even realise you’re doing it,” Elyan says, baffled, looking from Merlin to Arthur and back.

“What?” Merlin asks again, blinking in confusion. “What are we doing?”

“You’re behaving like an old married couple!” Elyan bursts out, then points at Arthur’s fork, still hovering over Merlin’s plate. “For fuck’s sake, you’re putting your unwanted food on his plate and you haven’t even talked about it!”

Blushing, Arthur pulls his fork back and brushes the mushroom off on his own plate, a shiver racing through his body.

“We’re best friends,” Merlin says simply and turns to Arthur as if for confirmation.

Mutely, Arthur nods. “Best friends,” he echoes, but it comes out croaky and hoarse. Heat races through him as he examines what they had unintentionally been doing. He hadn’t even had to think about pushing his mushrooms onto Merlin’s plate and Merlin hadn’t thought anything of it either.

“Seriously,” Lance pipes up, leaning over the table, “you don’t think it’s odd? I mean, Elyan and I are best friends, too, but you are practically joined at the hip these days.”

Quietly, Arthur thinks that Lance and Elyan have nothing like what he and Merlin have, but he doesn’t protest.

“I’m not dating right now,” Merlin murmurs, then pierces the leftover mushroom from Arthur’s plate and puts it in his mouth. “Of course I’d spend my time with my best friend.”

“Yeah, that’s odd, too,” Lance says, shaking his head. “You both should go out on a date,” he adds, looking at Elyan for support.

“We should set them up on a double date,” Elyan suggests. “Gwen’s friend Sefa is a very sweet girl.”

“No,” Merlin and Arthur say as one, but Lance looks enthusiastic about Elyan’s proposal. “I heard Daegal has recently become single,” he murmurs around a fork-full of mashed potatoes. “You could take him to the boulder hall, Merlin, show off your climbing skills and dexterous limbs,” he suggests with a grin and a wink.

“I don’t want to date right now,” Merlin says firmly and roots around on Arthur’s plate for another mushroom, pushing aside rice and beans.

“Your dick will shrivel off and die if it doesn’t get any action,” Elyan suggests lewdly, winking, and both him and Lance chortle.

“I have a very strong right hand and an overabundance of imagination,” Merlin quips and moves his closed fist suggestively, making Arthur snort into his elbow with laughter.

“And there’s porn,” Arthur adds. “He has his folders neatly labelled. One must admire his dedication.”

“There’s that,” Merlin grins, looking sideways at Arthur.

“You are both pathetic,” Lance huffs and rolls his eyes.

*-*

It’s a setup, a ridiculous fabricated setup and Arthur glares at Elyan, the traitor, as he takes his place next to Sefa on the coarse carpet in Lance’s dorm room. It’s a quadruple date, disguised as a night of boardgames, but it’s badly disguised and therefore really embarrassing to begin with. Both Lance and Elyan brought their girlfriends and they also invited Sefa and Daegal.

Sefa is nice enough if somewhat timid, and Arthur has a hard time keeping a conversation going, all the while glancing over at where Daegal has been sat between Merlin and Gwen. He looks boyish and is objectively good-looking, but Arthur notes with satisfaction how he doesn’t make Merlin roar with laughter, doesn’t make Merlin’s face light up with his easy, infectious smile. Scowling, Arthur watches Daegal earnestly explain the finer points of a card game they’re about to play to Merlin and wonders if Daegal looks like he’s someone who is into comeplay.

At a quarter to eleven, the board game night comes to an end and Sefa yawns and gets up, stretching her arms over head. “Anyone going in the direction of Castle Leaze?” she asks and yawns again.

Arthur ignores the way Elyan is looking at him expectantly - and not just because Castle Leaze is on the other side of campus - relieved when Daegal says, “I live there!”

“How come we’ve never met?” Sefa laughs with delight and Arthur watches as they huddle together, excitedly talking about their student residence. So much for that, he thinks, secretly relieved when he sees the two of them smile shyly at each other.

“Walk you home instead?” Merlin suggests softly, having silently appeared at Arthur’s elbow. It’s weird, but Arthur could have sworn he felt the air shift with Merlin’s presence, his body recognising Merlin’s closeness even before Merlin spoke.

Quirking his eyebrow, Arthur leans into him, careful to lower his voice as he speaks directly into Merlin’s ear. “Not going to accompany your date to Castle Leaze?”

“God, that was awful, wasn’t it?” Merlin whispers back, his warm breath shivering over Arthur’s cheek as he leans closer. “I mean, nice guy, but… setting us up like that, they have no shame,” he mutters, gesturing in the direction of Elyan and Lance.

Afterwards, out on the street, Merlin relives the finer points of tonight with gusto. “I don’t think he’s even gay,” he concludes, balancing on the kerb of the pavement, then doing a pirourette kind of thing around a lamppost, like he’s Fred Astair trying to impress Ginger Rogers. It should be ridiculous, but god forbid, it’s actually cute.

“It was a bit disrespectful,” Arthur agrees. “We both said we didn’t want it and they did it anyway. And seriously, can you see me with Sefa?” Arthur asks, trying to rub his cold fingers together to get some warmth into them. It’s cold outside, the temperature having dropped over the last couple of days, and he isn’t wearing gloves.

Merlin stumbles into his side after another ill-advised dance-move and catches himself on his arm. “I dunno,” he says, scrutinising Arthur for a moment, “it’s not like I have much insight into your relationships, to compare her to other girls you’ve dated.”

“Hmmm,” Arthur huffs.

“I remember Sophia, from last year. She was… pretty.” The tone of Merlin’s voice is carefully neutral, like he doesn’t want to offend Arthur with his real opinion but isn’t willing to lie just to make Arthur feel comfortable.

“And perfectly vapid,” Arthur sighs, pushing his fingers deep into his jeans pockets and pulling up his shoulders against the cold wind, burying his face in the red scarf that Merlin still hasn’t asked him to return.

Next to him, Merlin looks warm and cosy in his wool beanie, curls sticking out wildly.

“Wasn’t there anyone since her?” Merlin asks.

“Just a summer fling. Inconsequential.”

Merlin hums and they walk in silence for a bit. Arthur’s leg - braceless by now - is hurting a little, a funny ache where his bones have knitted back together just recently. He’s been training again tentatively, but despite doing weight and bodyweight training and working out his upper body to not completely lose all of his muscle mass, he still feels weak.

“You look cold,” Merlin murmurs. “Are you cold?”

“A bit,” Arthur admits, surprised when Merlin stops him and reaches for his hands, which he had been rubbing together.

“Wow,” Merlin breathes, “you’ve got ice claws.”

“Charming. So that’s how you get all the boys?”

Merlin rolls his eyes and wraps his fingers around Arthur’s. His hands are toasty warm, and Arthur sighs as heat envelops his cold digits.

“Your hands are so warm,” Arthur says wondrously. “How do you do that?”

“It’s because I’m hot.”

“Oh please…,” Arthur snorts at Merlin’s teasing boast, and wants to make a quip, but then Merlin cups his hands around Arthur’s and lifts them to blow at them, while rubbing Arthur’s fingers between his palms.

“My Mum used to do this when I was little and had cold hands. I think it’d work better if your hands were smaller,” he murmurs, repeating the action, gusting hot air over Arthur’s skin.

Arthur clears his throat to hide the funny hitch of his breath, heat rising in his face.

“I’m already getting warmer,” he admits, because Merlin holding his hands and blowing on them is doing all kinds of things to send heat through his body. When he looks up from their combined hands, Merlin is smiling.

“Good,” Merlin says, rubbing his fingers once more deftly, before lowering both their hands. He doesn’t let go of Arthur’s right hand though, instead stuffing both their hands into the wide pockets of his winter coat.

“We can switch sides if the other one needs attention,” he suggests as they start walking again.

Arthur has a hard time concentrating on what Merlin is talking about - something about the winter holidays and a trip to Wales with his mother - too conscious of Merlin’s warm fingers closed around his hand, of the intimacy of having his hand jammed into Merlin’s pocket.

Merlin doesn’t seem to mind that he’s not saying much, probably thinking he’s tired. It doesn’t take long for them to reach Kensington Terrace, where Arthur lives. At some point it started snowing, and Arthur didn’t even realise it. The flakes are small, but they look beautiful in the light coming from the residence’s lit entrance hall, swirling around Merlin’s head, settling on his winter hat and glistening in the curls of his hair.

“You’re all thawed out,” Merlin notes with satisfaction, once more taking both of Arthur’s hands in his, rubbing them between his palms.

“Yeah,” Arthur stutters hoarsely. He’s not feeling cold anymore, on the contrary; heat is suffusing every part of his body, spreading out from where they are touching. “Thank you.”

Merlin bites his lips and grins lopsidedly, looking pleased. “Ice Claws,” he says fondly and Arthur lifts the fingers of one hand and mock-growls at him, slashing out at Merlin like he wants to take out one of Merlin’s eyes. “Grrrrrr,” he says.

“That’s how you repay me for saving you from certain death?!” Merlin says dramatically, sounding wounded, snatching Arthur’s clawed hand.

“Certain Death is a bit overdramatic, don’t you think?”

Merlin shrugs and rubs his fingers again. “Just wear gloves and a hat next time and you should be fine.”

“I have a scarf.”

“Yeah, I know,” Merlin laughs. “I gave it to you. One would think you could afford a scarf yourself. You want my beanie, too?”

“Shut up.”

Merlin smiles at him so warmly that it makes Arthur blush and he realises two things: they have been loitering outside his door for three minutes, like it’s the end of a date, and Merlin is still holding onto his hands.

Hastily, Arthur pulls his hands back, feeling his blush deepen.

“Good night,” Merlin says and then leans forward. Arthur is confused for just a second, gasping when Merlin puts his arms around him, hugging him fiercely. For a moment he thought Merlin was going in for a kiss. His heart skips a beat, before continuing to pound in his chest much too quickly, relief and disappointment warring in him.

“What was that for?” Arthur asks stupidly when Merlin draws back slowly.

“Thank you for saving me from walking home Daegal. He was probably into some weird stuff. It’s always the quiet ones.”

“You are into some weird stuff,” Arthur blurts out, laughing when Merlin narrows his eyes at him. “I saw your porn folder,” he clarifies, thinking of the sub-folders and straight-forward labels.

“Well, weirder stuff, then,” Merlin says, scowling, then adds, “wait, you thought it was weird?” He’s actually looking concerned, his eyebrows knitted together, a hilariously abashed expression on his face.

Arthur snorts in mock-disgust. “Go home, Merlin.”

“No, seriously,” Merlin protests, wide-eyed and not joking at all, “you think I have weird sexual appetites?”

“Good night.” Arthur laughs, waves and turns to go inside.

“How weird?” Merlin calls after him, and when Arthur doesn’t answer, just waves over his shoulder as he walks down the entrance hall. Merlin’s voice rings out again, “How weird, Pendragon?!”

Arthur is still grinning when he’s reached his room. He toes off his wet shoes, shrugs off his jacket and flops down on his unmade bed, smiling and thinking of Merlin’s fingers wrapped around his.

His phone buzzes in his pocket and he pulls it out, already knowing what he would find.

Good weird or bad weird? the text says.

Arthur decides to ignore him once more.

*-*

Merlin puts down his tray on the table opposite Arthur with a bang, startling him so badly Arthur spills some of his water over his plate of spaghetti.

“What’s so weird about my porn?” he says without preamble, earning a raised eyebrow from the girl sitting to Arthur’s right, a girl Arthur is pretty sure is in his Physics class, but to whom he has never spoken before. “Is it because it’s gay?”

“No!” Arthur hisses, furtively looking around to see who else - besides the amused-looking girl - has heard him. “And could you finally drop it?”

“I can’t drop it. You think I’m a sexual deviant,” Merlin pouts and slides onto the bench.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Arthur snorts and scoops up another heap of his now slightly soggy spaghetti.

Merlin is silent for a bit and when Arthur lifts his head, he finds Merlin mutely staring at his own plate of spaghetti, his face pinched.

“I hate to think I disgust you with my weird, gay ways,” he finally mutters, low and sad. “I always thought you didn’t mind.”

“You don’t disgust me,” Arthur scowls, his voice rising in frustration. He hadn’t thought his teasing would actually make Merlin concerned, but it looks like he overstepped a line here. Or hit a nerve. Or both.

“You said it was weird,” Merlin says defensively, slowly twisting his fork in his spaghetti.

“Merlin, I was only teasing you,” Arthur sighs, exasperated but fond. “You have an organised porn library dedicated to every damn kink known to man. If anything, it’s fucking impressive.”

Merlin looks up, but he’s not smiling, seemingly not pacified by Arthur’s words, his fork poised like he wants to stab something.

“Look,” Arthur attempts, then puts down his fork and leans over the table, “I’m apparently a very boring, inexperienced bloke with… uhm… simple appetites. It doesn’t make you weird that you know a lot more about sex than me. Or that you have folders full of porn titled Comeplay and … and … “ he blushes and trails off, unable to say the word out loud. “... And it’s not that surprising. I mean, you’ve been in a lot more relationships than me. Of course you’re much more experienced.”

Merlin is silent for a long while, still playing with his food, but not having taken a bite yet. “What do you like, then?”

“Me?”

Merlin lifts his head and to both Arthur’s relief and dismay - because Merlin’s face spells Trouble with a capital T - , there’s a small smile playing around his lips. “What’s your favourite thing to do in bed?”

Arthur laughs, startled, but then realises that Merlin is dead-earnest. “Oh, just, you know,...” he stammers, flushing. “I like getting a blowjob,” he says, going for the safe option, the one that Merlin won’t have anything to say about.

Humming, Merlin finally starts eating, slurping noodles off his fork noisily. “Hmmm. Nice, but yes, predictable.”

“I told you,” Arthur says, suddenly feeling shaky and a bit embarrassed, like he disappointed Merlin or something. He feels like he ought to ask himself, even if he’s maybe a little afraid of the answer. “Y-you?” he asks, his voice unsteady.

Merlin grins widely around his fork. “I like to make my partner come,” he says, sucking more spaghetti into his mouth noisily. “And come again. And preferably again.”

With shaking hands, Arthur reaches for his glass of water and takes a big gulp. “Well, that is very considerate of you,” he hears himself say.

The girl next to Arthur, the one who raised her eyebrows and is in his Physics class, puts her juice glass onto her tray and gets up to leave. Before she does, though, she leans forward, planting her palms on the table firmly.

“You two should fuck,” she says bluntly, eyeing the both of them, before resting her gaze on Merlin. “Put him out of his mediocre sex misery, please.”

Stunned, Arthur watches her pull away with a satisfied air. She has the gall to wink at him as she passes, as if she did him a bloody favour, and he vows that if she ever has the misfortune of being his partner in a project, he’ll make her life hell.

When he turns back to face Merlin, Merlin is sitting hunched over, snorting quietly into his palm, his shoulders shaking.

“Your fucking face!” he bursts out, laughing. “Oh my God!”

“Stop feeling so smug, fucker,” Arthur growls and pushes his half-eaten plate away, not feeling hungry anymore. Why did he say blowjob?

“I’m so sorry, seriously,” Merlin says, but he’s still giggling.

“I’m glad you’re not angry with me anymore,” Arthur huffs and crosses his hands in front of his chest, glaring at Merlin across the table.

“I wasn’t angry,” Merlin protests and reaches for the plate Arthur has abandoned. “Are you still eating this?”

When Arthur shakes his head mutely, Merlin brushes Arthur’s spaghetti onto his own plate and starts digging in again. For a while they sit in silence as Merlin demolishes the food on his plate with his usual appetite. When he’s finished, he straightens and wipes his mouth with a paper napkin, before looking at Arthur earnestly.

“You should go out on a date or two,” Merlin says.

Arthur grimaces. “Why should I have to if you don’t?” he asks, feeling petulant.

“Because I’ve already sown my wild oats,” Merlin says easily, his eyes glinting with amusement. “Go out, discover what else there is to enjoy apart from blowjobs or something.”

“I don’t date casually.”

“Maybe you should.”

“Maybe you should shut up.” It comes out a bit too forcefully, and Arthur is aghast at himself.

Merlin sighs and lifts his hands in defense. “Alright. Sorry. It was just a suggestion. Backing off now.” He reaches for the fruit salad he brought for dessert and starts digging in, not looking up from his bowl.

Arthur watches Merlin eat in silence for a while, sipping the last of his water. Something is churning in his gut, wanting to claw out from the inside, something wild and reckless and honest. It builds and it builds with an insane amount of pressure. Arthur feels his bad leg jitter underneath the table with nerves.

“I think girls bore me.”

Merlin’s spoon hits the bowl with a clatter, a loud, high sound that travels through the cafeteria, louder than the chatter around them.

Arthur looks up from where he had been contemplating his hands as they fidgeted with the glass on the table top and meets Merlin’s eyes.

He’s never seen Merlin struck speechless before, but Merlin looks stunned, his eyes wide, mouth dropped open as he looks back at Arthur. There’s a smear of tomato sauce on his slack lips from the spaghetti still. He catches himself quickly and picks up his glass, taking a careful, measured sip, before clearing his throat.

“Do you… do you think boys might bore you as well?” he asks, his voice strange and rough.

Arthur pushes his glass away from him and leans back in his chair, swallowing soundly. “I don’t think so.”

Merlin is staring at him for a beat with blank eyes, before he picks up his spoon again. “Okay,” he says, strangely toneless, and starts eating again, scraping up the last fruit pieces out of his bowl.

“Okay?”

“What do you want me to say?” Merlin asks, a little exasperated, looking tense and uncomfortable.

Shrugging, Arthur sighs. “I don’t know. Maybe, ‘good for you’ or, ‘do you have any questions?’ or… I don’t know.”

“Good for you. Do you have any questions?” Merlin says, and for some reason he sounds a tiny bit aggressive. He pushes away his empty bowl and wipes his mouth with the back of his hands, finally getting rid of the tomato stain.

Yes, Arthur wants to say. Yes, I have. So many. Mostly about you.

“You’re all huffy. Why are you huffy?” he says instead, his voice wobbly with nerves. He’s surprised at Merlin’s strange reaction, so unlike him. It makes no sense. It’s like Arthur said something that bothers Merlin deeply, but it can’t be - Merlin is the most tolerant, open-minded person Arthur has ever met and by all accounts, Merlin should be ecstatic for Arthur, congratulating him on making the first step to coming out.

Merlin closes his eyes, takes a deep, measured breath. When he blinks them open again, his expression is soft. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry,” he murmurs, looking contrite. “I shouldn’t react that way when you confide in me with something that obviously isn’t easy for you.” Chuckling softly, Merlin shakes his head. “It’s just… wow, a lot. I thought I knew everything about you.”

“I’m sorry.”

“No, no, don’t be sorry!” Merlin sighs and reaches out over the table, grasping Arthur’s hands like he had last night, his warm fingers stroking across Arthur’s knuckles. “Don’t ever feel sorry for being honest about yourself. I’m happy for you!”

He doesn’t sound very happy, but he is smiling nonetheless. “I’m just really surprised. But I have to repeat myself with vehemence now: Arthur, you have to date. You need to go out there and…” Merlin trails off and actually blushes, letting go of Arthur’s hands all of a sudden.

“Well,” he mutters, leaning back and scratching his neck, “sow your wild oats.”

“Yeah,” Arthur says after a beat, watching the redness creep up Merlin’s face. There’s a long pause in which Merlin stares at the empty bowl in front of him, unseeing, and Arthur can practically see the wheels turning in his head, although for once he has no idea what Merlin is thinking. It’s unnerving.

“I need to leave for the studio now. I’m really behind on my project,” Merlin says abruptly.

Arthur watches as he gets up, puts his plate and glass on his tray and snatches up his ratty backpack.

“Talk to you later?” Merlin suggests, but he’s not looking at Arthur when he says it and he legs it out of the cafeteria without waiting for Arthur’s reply.

Now that was weird.

* -*

They don’t talk later.

They don’t really talk the day after that either, although they sit in class together and have lunch with Gwen and Lance in the cafeteria.

When Arthur asks Merlin to go get a coffee with him after rugby, Merlin declines, claiming he’s about to meet Gwaine at the boulder hall, because Gwaine is training for an upcoming championship and is in dire need of a spotter.

When Arthur invites Merlin to the Asian place he’s so fond of, Merlin spontaneously asks Leon and Percival to tag along.

Arthur can’t tell if Merlinis purposely avoiding him, but it sure feels different when they are together. There’s a distance between them that wasn’t there before. It’s only apparent because Arthur looks out for it. Gone is the casual touching and the easy intimacy. It’s like Merlin erected a wall between them, carefully marked out a space for himself that Arthur can’t enter.

He’s surprised when on Friday afternoon, shortly before Merlin goes home for a brief weekend of visiting his Mum, Merlin seeks out Arthur in his student lounge, where he’s curled up in a chair with a cup of coffee and a book. He’s wearing his winter coat, a scarf and beanie, his backpack slung over his shoulder, looking ready to leave for the train.

“I’ve thought about what you told me,” Merlin says, shifting from one foot onto the other, looking strangely uncomfortable. “I still think you should date and see if that liking boys thing is really your cup of tea. But in the meantime, you might like to have a look at this.”

He reaches inside his coat pocket and pulls out a data stick, holding it out to Arthur like an offering. “I’ve selected some stuff I thought you might enjoy.”

His mouth dry, Arthur reaches out, taking the datastick with trembling fingers, not needing to ask what it is. He’s careful to not let his fingers graze Merlin’s palm.

“I’m pretty sure about boys, actually,” Arthur says, lifting his hips and jamming the datastick into his jeans pockets. He wants to add that he’s pretty sure about one boy in particular, but his tongue sticks to the roof of his mouth with nerves.

Merlin’s mouth works for a moment, like he isn’t sure how to respond. He shifts the backpack on his shoulders and there’s a peculiar expression on his face as he looks at Arthur. “Have a fun weekend,” he says, voice slightly rough, like he’s fighting an oncoming cold.

“You too,” Arthur breathes, and Merlin nods, and shifts awkwardly once more like there’s something he maybe wants to add to their conversation, but he ends up leaving without another word. Arthur watches him stride out of the room and then tries to get back to his book, but he gives up when he realises he has been staring at the same page for the past ten minutes, without taking in anything at all. The datastick is like a hot poker digging into his hip bones, its presence unnerving and distracting.

Frustrated, Arthur gives up and goes to his room, his body humming with low-key arousal and curiosity. He boots up his laptop, makes sure it’s plugged into the power socket and jams the datastick into the usb port. Biting his lips, he waits for the datastick to reveal its contents, impatiently hovering near over it, too keyed up to even sit down in his desk chair.

It’s a selection of folders just like he expected and the fact that Merlin sat at his computer and assembled these folders for Arthur, and typed these descriptions, makes him instantly hard and short of breath. He skims the names of the folders, feeling heat rise to his face, then clicks on one that seems appealing, (they all do.) There are a couple of videos and Arthur’s breath hitches. He opens the next folder, then the next, skimming the contents. His heart is beating hard and his dick presses against his fly, insistently and urgently.

The thought that it’s not just any porn he could have picked out on the internet himself, but porn that was selected by Merlin, for him, out of his own personal favourites, is making this all the more arousing. When he finally clicks on a video, he’s vibrating with anticipation, and he reaches down to open the buttons on his jeans. This is what Merlin likes, he thinks. This is what Merlin does in bed with other people.

Five minutes later he’s come all over himself, slumped over the desk with his hand wrapped around his messy dick. Arthur reaches for a discarded shirt to wipe himself off, then pulls down his jeans and relocates to his bed, laptop in his lap. He starts the next video in the folder, takes a deep breath and reaches for himself again.

*-*

Arthur sleeps from Saturday late afternoon to Sunday midday, having accomplished exactly nothing on the weekend, except going through most of Merlin’s folders and beating off until he was mostly dry-coming. He wishes he had toys. He wishes he had a partner. He wishes he had Merlin.

Despite his recent activities, lingering arousal is still thrumming through his body when he takes a walk on Sunday afternoon. It’s cold outside and frost is crunching underneath his feet and he’s wrapped up in Merlin’s scarf, sipping hot, rum-spiked tea from the coffee van on campus, desperately trying to sort out his feelings.

They had been so comfortable with each other until someone brought up sex. Until Arthur revealed that he might like boys. It had definitely thrown Merlin for a loop and made him reevaluate his behaviour towards Arthur, causing him to withdraw and keep his distance. Maybe he’s afraid Arthur will read too much into Merlin’s actions as a friend.

Arthur thinks back over the past couple of weeks. Of spending so much time with Merlin ever since Merlin stopped dating other people. It had felt brilliant being the centrepoint of Merlin’s life, having all of Merlin’s unbridled, caring attention on him. It must have been what all of Merlin’s girlfriends and boyfriends felt like and it makes Arthur feel jealous in hindsight.

A thought occurs, outrageous and out of left field, leaving Arthur’s head reeling. He stops underneath an arch just outside the Science Building, the strong wind ripping at his hair and clothes.

Had Merlin been dating him?

And if so, had he done it on purpose?

The idea is preposterous, but when Arthur examines it a bit more, the indications are there: they went out for dinner and to the cinema, just the two of them. They cuddled and fell asleep with each other. Merlin gave him his scarf and made sure he was well equipped with junk food during his project hours. They had held hands and had gone out of their way to see each other. Merlin had kissed him…

With fumbling fingers he reaches into his pockets and pulls out his phone, carefully shifting his cup of tea in his hand.

Fortunately, Morgana picks up on the second ring. “What’s up, little brother?” she greets him, sounding chipper and happy.

“Remember when Merlin kissed me?”

She’s silent for a bit, then laughs, a bright, boisterous cackle. “Yeah. I was jealous.”

“Do you think he likes me like that or do you think he did it just because I was in a tight spot and he wanted to help out his best friend?” Arthur blurts out, words coming out rushed.

Morgana snorts again, her tone laced with amusement and mocking pity. “Oh, you’ve figured it out. Only took you two years or so.”

“What do you mean?”

She makes another amused, low sound. “Whenever I see you two together, he’s practically behaving like the sun is coming out of your arse, which we both know isn't true. I would say he’s painfully in love with you.”

“He is?” Arthur breathes, his knees having gone a little weak. He slumps back against the cold brick wall of the building for support, shuddering at the way the icy stone seeps through his clothes. Morgana’s sure words elicit hope in him, a painful kind of hope, a hope he doesn’t want to indulge in too much, in case it gets squashed.

“Arthur,” Morgana says reasonably, “that was one hell of a cinematic kiss. He could have just pecked your lips, but he went all in. If you don’t believe me, watch it on Youtube.”

“It’s on Youtube?!”

“Yeah? I thought you knew. Someone posted it and I think it has a lot of clicks.” She pauses and he hears her typing on her phone, before she adds, “Like, wow, a lot. Wow. It’s 1.3 million already. I’ll send you a link. See for yourself what people are saying.”

“Shit.”

“Oh, what will you do? What will you do?!” she burbles with delight, and he can just imagine her rubbing her hands together in glee.

“Shut up, Morgana,” Arthur advises her, a bit weakly. A frankly staggering number of people have watched him and Merlin kiss on Youtube and he had no idea.

“The way I see it you have two options: either you ignore it completely and hope that Merlin finds someone else who really has sunbeams streaming out of their behind soon, or you fess up to not being entirely heterosexual and tell him and enjoy all his, probably horribly pent-up, sexual feelings to go with that uncomfortably close friendship thing you have going.”

“God, that was a long sentence,” Arthur moans. “You make my head hurt.”

She cackles again. “My work here is done. Enjoy the rest of your Sunday.”

“You’re useless as a big sister, you know.”

“Mhmmm, I’d go for option two, just so you know. I bet he’s great in the sack. If you don’t go for option two, please let me know, so I can make my move without guilty feelings.”

“Ewww, stay away from him, you harpy.”

“I think you got your answer. Ta!”

She hangs up and Arthur leans his head back against the wall of the arch he’s been standing under. He startles when his phone pings with an incoming message - a link Morgana sent him on Whatsapp.

He hesitates briefly, before clicking on it, steeling himself against watching himself on Youtube, being snogged, nonetheless.

‘Kiss cam gay hot kiss at Newcastle rugby game’ the video is titled, and yes, it has over a million views and a ridiculous amount of comments. With shaking fingers, Arthur starts the video and watches as it begins with a video of the big screen in the stadium, showing the heart-shaped kiss cam view of the stadium camera and two people giving each other a quick peck. He winces when the kiss cam view turns to him and Morgana, reliving that moment in the way his own face looks surprised and indignant. The audience cheers and then starts booing when Arthur gesticulates, his words not being picked up. He remembers how the audience around him had laughed at his plight. He watches as Merlin leans over and into the frame and presses his coffee into Morgana’s hands, before his hands come up and he pulls Arthur sideways by his lapels. It all goes really fast, much faster than Arthur remembers, but there it is: Merlin leans forward, tilts his head and presses their mouths together.

Morgana is right. It’s a great kiss, sweet and deep and oddly passionate in the way Merlin’s fingers are still fisted in Arthur’s clothes, one hand curled in his hair and not even Arthur’s stunned, flushed face changes the fact that it’s pretty swoon-worthy.

“God,” he moans, embarrassment catching up with him. He steels himself for the comments underneath the video, skimming the first few briefly and quickly. He manages a few scrolls downward before he’s had enough, his face burning, but he got the general consensus.

Omg, so hot!1!1!! one user typed.

Yes! Gay rep for the win! We’re here and queer, let’s cheer!” someone else commented.

I wish someone would kiss me like that…

That’s what real love looks like. Wow. I want that, another person said.

Exhaling a soft breath, Arthur pushes his phone back inside his pocket. In his other hand, his spiked tea has gone cold, but he doesn’t care, chugging it down to wet his parched throat.

He has no idea what he’s going to do now, but he knows he has to do something.

*-*

It’s late when Merlin comes in on Sunday afternoon, making his way through the narrow, dimly lit hall towards his dorm room, carrying two giant paper bags, with what Arthur assumes is care package food from Hunith.

“Arthur?” Merlin says curiously as he spots him, squinting down at him as he lowers his paper bags, his eyebrows rising in surprise. “Did something happen?”

Slowly, Arthur pushes himself up from the questionable carpet, wincing as his bent knees protest. “No. Not really.”

“What are you doing here?”

“Waiting?” Arthur asks, suddenly wondering if he made the right choice in coming here tonight. It all seemed so easy in his head. Wait for Merlin, confront him about his feelings, deal with the consequences. It seemed very straightforward, very adult. He had made that decision hours ago and his courage had slowly slipped away, the longer he waited. In reality, confronting Merlin like this is nothing but terrifying.

Merlin sucks his bottom lip in his mouth and just looks at him for a long moment, before he pushes past Arthur and takes his key out of his coat pocket.

“Come in then,” he says as he pushes open the door, his voice strangely clipped.

Inside Merlin’s narrow dorm room, Merlin puts down the bags he’s holding and turns to Arthur. “Do you want biscuits? My Mum made biscuits for you, the ones with chocolate and pecan nuts.”

Arthur shakes his head, feeling both hot and shivery at the same time. He’s thought long and hard how to approach the subject, but now that Merlin is here, he feels like he’s forgotten everything he wanted to say.

“Merlin,” he ends up croaking out without further preamble, “have you been dating me?”

Merlin’s first reaction is a short, surprised laugh, like Arthur asking him that is the funniest thing he has ever heard - which, wow, hurts a bit - but then his eyes widen and his expression turns peculiar. He looks blank, staring past Arthur at the wall, something vacant in his gaze. When he doesn’t answer, just keeps staring like he’s holding a conversation with himself, Arthur barges on, feeling justified.

“When you took me to dinner and held my hands and fell asleep on me? You stopped dating other people and instead you … kind of dated me?”

A muscle ticks in Merlin’s jaw, and he blinks, his posture loose, his hands hanging limply by his side. He swallows, then looks at Arthur with a strange expression on his face as he slowly sinks down on the edge of his bed.

“I guess,” he says softly, reluctantly, then raises his hands and rubs a palm down his face. “Oh my God, I’ve totally been dating you, haven’t I?” he moans, like he’s only now came to the same realisation as Arthur did just this afternoon.

Arthur pinches the bridge of his nose between forefinger and thumb. Merlin’s words are like a cold shower.

“Wow,” Merlin mutters, still hunched over on the bed, his elbows on his knees, head buried in his hands. “I’m so… so sorry.” He sounds embarrassed, and when he looks up, his face is flushed. “I didn’t realise… I just… “ he trails off, floundering for words, “... wow, this is really… awkward.”

“Okay,” Arthur mutters softly, his jumbled feelings wreaking havoc on his insides. He feels slightly sick and suddenly terribly disheartened. So maybe Merlin had dated him, but obviously he hadn’t meant to and found it embarrassing, maybe regretted it even. “Okay, so we’ve established you kind of dated me without even knowing it,” he says thickly, hating how his voice sounds awkward and raw.

Wincing, Merlin looks up. “I’m sorry,” he murmurs, looking like a kicked puppy. “I’m sorry if I made you feel uncomfortable. I’m sorry I dated you without your consent.”

“You didn’t make me feel uncomfortable,” Arthur protests, sinking down on the bed next to Merlin, his knees suddenly weak, the weight of his squashed hope that Merlin would return his feelings dragging him down. “It felt… like you really cared about me.”

“I do care about you,” Merlin says softly, turning slightly towards him on the bed.

Smiling a little ruefully, Arthur takes a deep breath, wondering if it’s his cue to change the topic of their conversation and let this particular thing go, but he can’t help it, his words come, pained and slightly bitter. “Yeah, I’m your best friend. Easy to get that mixed up, huh?”

Next to him, Merlin shifts, his gaze puzzled and intense as he regards Arthur. “Arthur,” he says, and his voice sounds nervous and hoarse, “our friendship is so important to me. You can’t even imagine how important. It’s the best thing that’s ever happened to me. You are my best friend.”

The knot in Arthur’s throat feels swollen and painful, and he swallows around it, nods quietly, knowing he probably looks distraught, but unable to fight it. He feels like crying, too vulnerable, too ripped open. What Merlin must think of him - maybe he’ll even pity him, for being so desperate that he mistakes his best friend’s attention for a romantic situation. He’s still fighting for a reply, an affirmation that he feels the same, when Merlin continues speaking.

“I’m sorry if I’ve been distant these last few days,” Merlin murmurs. Arthur looks up and is surprised to find Merlin staring down at his fingers fidgeting nervously in his lap.

“When I still thought you didn’t swing my way, I could tell myself that if only you weren’t straight, things might be different between us…,” Merlin trails off, and looks sideways, his eyes searching Arthur’s face, looking slightly pained. “But then you said you liked boys and I realised I didn’t stand a chance all along.”

He smiles, but it’s a sad smile. “I can only hope that you’re not pulling away from me now. Because I really value our friendship and I hope I didn’t make it awkward by unconsciously dating you.”

“What… what are you saying?” Arthur breathes nervously, trying to make sense of Merlin’s stumbling words.

“I guess I’ve inadvertently projected my feelings into absentmindedly dating you,” Merlin sighs, looking chagrined. “Because if I’m brutally honest with the both of us, I’ve wanted us to be more for a long, long time.”

“More?” Arthur echoes, and his voice is faint and stupidly raw. When Merlin doesn’t immediately answer, just looks at him with a stubborn, courageous expression on his face, Arthur releases a breath he hadn’t realised he had been holding, and then slowly sinks to his knees on the carpet to kneel between Merlin’s legs. He puts his hands on Merlin’s thighs, steadying himself, encouraged by the sudden hiss of air through Merlin’s teeth.

“Do you… do you want to date me?” He looks up, his heart beating wildly. He finds Merlin’s eyes on him, blue and wide. “For real?”

There’s a long moment where Merlin just stares at him, but slowly the corner of his mouth twitches and lifts into a small, dimpled smile, a bit hesitant but gaining in force. “For real? With perks?” Merlin asks with a grin that’s part cheeky, part cautiously hopeful.

Relief washes through Arthur and he breathes out in a rush. “With all the perks,” Arthur confirms, his stomach swooping anxiously.

“By perks you mean kissing and stuff, right? Just to be sure we’re on the same page.”

Rolling his eyes, Arthur smoothes his hands up Merlin’s warm thighs. “I mean kissing and about 99% of the stuff you put on that datastick.”

Merlin’s grin blossoms, until he’s smiling so widely he looks like the Cheshire cat, slightly manic and unhinged. “Did you like it?” he breathes, the husky shiver of his voice travelling down Arthur’s spine.

“My wrist is sore, what do you think?”

Merlin snorts out a laugh, his head dropping forward to gently knock against Arthur’s forehead. His curls feel soft against Arthur’s face and he takes a couple of deep breaths. “Oh my God, I can’t with all these rollercoaster emotions…” he laughs, sounding breathless.

“Kiss me?” Arthur breathes and digs his fingers into Merlin’s thighs, surprisingly strong underneath his hands, feeling his heart speed up crazily.

Against him, Merlin laughs again, softly, nervously. “I’ve been wanting to - for so long. What if I mess up? What if you think it’s awful and then decide you don’t want to date me at all.”

“Please,” Arthur snorts. “Besides, you’ve already kissed me. Do you know there’s a Youtube video of that with more than 1.3 million people claiming you’re an awesome kisser?”

Merlin rolls his forehead gently against Arthur’s, before tilting his face, nuzzling his nose against Arthur’s cheek. “I know,” he whispers. “I think about a million views of that video are me.”

“Well, then you should know how this works.”

Arthur feels Merlin’s answering grin against the corner of his mouth, and then they’re really kissing - not for show, not for a kiss cam, just for the two of them.

It’s soft and sweet and it turns Arthur’s insides to mush. His hands find their purchase buried underneath Merlin’s coat, on the edge of his warm, muscular hips and he holds on as the kiss turns deeper, wetter, as it turns filthy-soft and toe-curling. Merlin’s fingers are still cold from the walk through campus when they come up to cup his face, and Arthur moans into his mouth and presses himself closer. His mouth falls open to allow Merlin’s tongue to delve inside and Merlin pushes forward, tumbling him back down on the carpet, his warm weight pressing Arthur down.

They kiss until Arthur’s head is swimming, so aroused every shift of Merlin’s body atop him makes him gasp out a needy sound.

“How’s that?” Merlin pants as he draws back, his warm, wet breath gusting over Arthur’s face.

“Perfect,” Arthur says honestly and reaches up to curl his fingers into Merlin’s dark hair, pulling him back down for another kiss. “Now keep kissing. You’ve been dating me for six weeks, you’re way behind.”

“How many dates until you’re ready to put out?” Merlin breathes cheekily, grinning down at him, his face happily flushed, eyes half-lidded. “Just so I know what else I might have to make up to you.”

“With you?” Arthur pants between kisses. “The first one.”

“We’d better call in sick tomorrow,” Merlin mumbles with satisfaction, softly nipping at Arthur’s bottom lip. “And the day after. Maybe the week.”

“Agreed. More kissing now though,” Arthur orders, tugging a bit harshly on Merlin’s hair, enjoying the way Merlin goes cross-eyed and moans, before diving in for another kiss, a kiss that takes Arthur’s breath away.

The End