Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

   “Hey, Merlin, we’re going clubbing tonight, want to come?” Gwen pokes her head through the door.

    “Er, I don’t know, who’s we?”

    “Me, Lance, Arthur, Gwaine, Percy, Elyan, maybe Leon.”

    “Yeah, alright, but promise me you won’t let me get completely hammered, I don’t want to embarrass myself.”

    “I’ll try.”

   “You’d better.” Merlin leans back on his chair, placing his textbook back on the desk. What if he does embarrass himself? He’s only known the lads a month, and there are still basically five years left of his degree, what if none of them want to speak to him after they see him plastered, he hasn’t got properly drunk since his A-Level results day when him and Will went a bit far in their celebrations. He’s never been more than tipsy with his uni friends. Not that he doesn’t trust them, they’re great people and Merlin is grateful they’re his mates. He doesn’t want to lose that by dancing on a table or something.

    No, he’s overreacting, they wouldn’t disown him as a friend because he’s a shit dancer when he’s pissed. It’ll be fun. But, he is a bit worried about Arthur, Arthur with his upper RP accent and knowledge of the difference between black tie and white tie. Arthur who’s probably somehow refined even when he’s smashed. Arthur the son of Tory MP who has a position in the Cabinet (which put Merlin off talking for Arthur when they first met until he found out that, despite his father, he secretly voted Labour and was against pretty much all his father’s policies, then they became friends). Arthur who Merlin has accepted he’ll never date because if anyone is straight, it’s Arthur Pendragon, but who he would quite like to be friends with. Who he is friends with, good friends in fact, but who knows how quickly that could change? And it would be made all the more awkward if they suddenly fell out since they share a dorm.

   Speak of the devil, the door opens and in walks Arthur, back from his morning run, hair stuck to his forehead by sweat and cheeks pink, really quite attractive. Merlin clenches his eyes shut briefly in a (failed) attempt to rid himself of thinking about his roommate in that way.

    “You alright there, mate? Looks like some puppeteer scrunched up your face?”

    “I’m fine, you just gave me a shock.”

    “Sorry, mate, didn’t mean to, but I do think your reflexes could do with some improvement, there was a good five seconds before you reacted.” He chuckles, putting his water bottle down on the floor.

    “Piss off.”

    Arthur raises his hand above his head as if it was holding a sword and yells, in a booming voice, “Never!”

   Merlin laughs, exasperated.

    “Actually, I am going to “piss off”, as you so eloquently put it, but for a shower, so it’s not exactly very far... and I’ll be back quite soon, so it probably isn’t pissing off really.” He does exactly that.

    Merlin turns back to his work, smiling slightly. Having Arthur as a friend is definitely good and Merlin is happy with that. And, perhaps, he isn’t quite as refined as Merlin’s fears seem to think.

   Half an hour later, when Arthur is dressed but still slightly damp from his shower, he leans on the back of Merlin’s chair. Merlin can feel his breath on the back of his neck as he types. He tenses, trying to stop himself from shivering. Arthur’s face is so close to his, Arthur is so close to him, his chest resting on the top of Merlin’s back, just above the top of the chair, hands on his shoulders.

    “What’s this all about, then?” He points at Merlin’s screen.

    “It’s a- um- it’s an essay on stem cells- embryonic stem cells, whether they’re ethical and stuff.”

    “Sounds cool. Are they ethical?” Arthur sits cross-legged on the floor with his back resting on the leg of his bed.

    “Well it’s not that simple, but, yeah, I certainly think so, they save and improve lives, and the only big claim against them is that you’re” He makes air quotes with his fingers, “”killing” embryos, but that’s just stupid frankly, and- sorry, you probably don’t really care, do you?”

    “No, it’s cool, it’s interesting, tell me about them.”

   “Ok...” Merlin spends the next hour or so explaining how stem cells work and what they do and the difference between different types and the ethical argument surrounding them and Arthur listens, his eyes fixed on Merlin, who himself is constantly changing where he looks. Merlin is caught up in the topic, he gestures passionately and articulates himself much better than he ever has around Arthur, he almost forgets that it is Arthur that he’s talking to, forgets that he normally feels the need to impress Arthur, instead he just talks as himself, the kid who had always got far too excited about science for his own good. When he comes to the end of his little rant and looks across at Arthur he suddenly feels heat rush to his cheeks. How long has he been talking for? About stem cells? People like Arthur were definitely the sort of people who had always made fun of him for that sort of stuff. They were friends, sure, but were they friends enough? He runs his hand through his hair, pressing his palm against his scalp.

    “I, uh, I’m sorry, I didn’t realise how long I was talking for.”

    “No, it was bloody interesting, mate, I was never one for biology in secondary school, I tended to spend the lessons carving phallic drawings into the tables” (oh, so he was one of them, Merlin thinks) “but that, that, what you were just saying, was, you know, riveting. You care a lot about it, much more than the teachers I had. You make it really fucking interesting frankly. Do you think you’ll go into something stem cell related when you start work?”

   “Hmm? Nah, I don’t think so, I don’t think research is for me, I’d rather practice as a doctor, in a hospital or something, despite the fucking abysmal hours, I’m not sure what field yet though.”

    “Oh, well, I’m sure you’ll be grand whatever you do, judging by that performance.” He claps Merlin on the back when he stands up. “You know, I’ve never heard you talk so freely, Merlin? I always thought you were quite reserved and quiet. I think I like this side of you.” Suddenly he goes quite pink. “Not that I, not that I didn’t like the other side of you, that, he, you, it was great too, when you were quiet, but, er, this is different, and nice, different and nice. I’ll see you later. You’re coming tonight, right?”

   “Yeah.”

    “Great.” He pauses as if he’s going to say something more, but thinks better of it. “I’ve got to go, later, alligator.”

   “In a while, crocodile.” Merlin calls after him.

   What was all that about, he thinks. Arthur was awkward and shy and unsure. And he cared, he cared about what Merlin was talking about, Merlin smiles and continues typing out his essay.

   Just as he begins his fifth paragraph, there is a knock on his door. It opens before he has time to respond.

    “Merlin!”

    He spins round in his chair. “Oh! Morgana, hi, to what do I owe the pleasure?”

   “You haven’t seen my brother have you? Not that I don’t love seeing you, in fact I prefer you to him, but you know how life goes.”

   “He left for a tutorial a while ago, I’m not sure where he is now, sorry.”

   “That’s alright, nothing urgent, it’s just that I’ve heard that he’s going clubbing this evening,” She pauses. “You wouldn’t know anything about that, would you?”

   “Well, I, sort of, yes.”

   “Are you going too?”

   “Gwen invited me and I wasn’t sure but- yeah.”

    “Oh, well, if you and Gwen are there, I’m sure it’ll be fine... he’s a lightweight, you know? Wouldn’t think it to look at him, but he is, couple of pints and he’s squiffy. Wanted to tell him to make sure not to embarrass himself.”

    Merlin laughs. “I’ll make sure to look out for him then.”

    “On the contrary, film absolutely everything he does.”

   Merlin giggles again.

   “But, yes, if you could keep an eye on him, that would be great, we don’t want a big public scandal if he decides to climb a lamp post or piss on the pavement.” She walks out the door.

   Merlin shakes his head and chuckles to himself, maybe his worry about embarrassing himself truly was unfounded.

   Not even ten minutes later and his door opens again, Gwaine this time.

   “Hey, Gwen said she was going to ask you, but she’s not replying to my texts, are you coming tonight?”

    He doesn’t even look up from his screen this time. “Yep.”

    “Yes, mate! I have been waiting all term to get you to come drinking with me. I can’t believe it’s taken this long.” He punches Merlin in the arm, then starts singing. “We’re gonna find Merlin a boyfriend.” Over and over.

    “Shut up! I am not going to get into a relationship with someone I meet clubbing.”

   “Oi, what have you got against people who go clubbing? But if you don’t want that we’ll find Merlin someone to shag and never speak to again, how about that?”

   “If you sing that while you walk down the corridor, I’m going to fucking pummel you.”

    “Fine, I won’t sing it... I’ll yell it.” He leans out of the door, “WE’RE GOING TO FIND MER-mmmf”

   Merlin has his arm wrapped around Gwaine’s face, the inside of his elbow muffling his voice. He pulls Gwaine back into the room.

    “Eurgh, that’s rank!” He feels Gwaine spit onto his skin and lurches backwards. “You’re ‘des-gos-tang’.”

   Just then, Arthur walks back in, pen behind his ear and textbook tucked up next to his chest. There is a bit of ink on his cheek next to his mouth, Merlin notices, clearly there was something he was struggling to understand, that’s the only time he chews pens. “Everything alright, lads?”

    “Yeah, fine, Gwaine is just a tosser.”

   “And on that delightful, note, I shall bid you adieu. See you this evening, we’re going to find him a one night stand.” The last sentence is half whispered to Arthur, who goes red, as he leaves.

   “Uh, right... So what was all that about?”

   “Not much, he yelled about my sex life to the corridor, I put him in a sort of headlock, he spat on my arm, the usual.”

   “Ah, yes, of course, the usual. I didn’t know you knew how to put someone in a headlock, Merlin,” He reaches across to lift Merlin’s arm up, “What with those puny biceps of yours.”

   “Shut up.”

   “Absolutely not.”

—

   Quite a few hours later and Merlin is sitting on his bed drying his recently showered hair, while Arthur, dressed in navy chinos and a light blue shirt with rolled up sleeves leans against the doorframe.

   “Hurry up, Merlin, we need to get going.”

    “Yes, sorry, I’m being as quick as I can.” He ruffles his hair with the towel one last time, pulls on a short sleeved black button up shirt and a pair of jeans. “How do I look?”

   “Cool as a cucumber, my friend, cool as a cucumber.” He poses in his impression of blue steel, then joins Merlin laughing. “What about me, how do I look?” He holds out his arms.

    Merlin smiles, “You look great.” What he really wants to say is you look fucking beautiful and handsome and a-bloody-mazing. He wants to say that Arthur’s rolled up sleeves accentuate the muscles of his forearm, and how his hair is slicked back but still slightly scruffy and very soft looking and he’d quite like to run his fingers through it, and the blue of his clothes seems to somehow bring out the highly unrealistic blue of his eyes, and that it really is quite endearing that his trousers and shirt are ironed and his shoes polished for a night clubbing, and how the little amused smile spread across his cheeks is just unbearably cute. But that would be far too far past a line he is not willing to cross. They are friends and Arthur is straight.

   Although Merlin can’t help noticing that Arthur’s cheeks seem to go a little bit pink when he’s complimented. Imagining things, he’s imagining things.

   “Alright then, since we’re now a pair of absolute lookers, I believe it’s time to go on the pull.”

    “What?” Merlin guffaws.

    “I’m kidding, mate, I’m not the type for one night stands, much prefer people I already know.” He leans over and ruffles Merlin’s hair before turning to leave.

    Merlin pauses for a second because, firstly, Arthur said people, not girls, so is it possible that maybe he’s not as straight as one might think? Wishful fucking thinking, Merlin tells himself. Secondly, Arthur Pendragon with his stupidly attractive hands just ruffled his hair after saying he liked to sleep with people he knew so it can hardly be expected of him to immediately be ready to act like a normal human being.

   “You coming or not, Merlin?” Arthur calls back from the corridor.

    “Yep, yep, just grabbing my wallet.”

—

   Gwaine, predictably, was the last to arrive. After that, they all head into town. Walking in four pairs, Lance and Gwen, who recently got together, at the front, followed by Gwaine and Percival, roommates but definitely something more too, then Elyan and Leon and finally Arthur and Merlin. Merlin assumes that Arthur is only with him because he’s the only one left, obviously he’d prefer to talk to Leon, his old friend, or equally footie mad Elyan, or fellow rugby player Percival or- or maybe he was wrong because Arthur seems to be striking up a proper conversation with him. They were friends, of course they were, quite good ones really, but Merlin always thought he liked the others more.

   “Merlin? Are you going to answer me or are you going to leave me forever in the dark of what music you listen to?”

    “Oh, sorry, I was a bit distracted by— I, er, I mostly like indie rock sort of stuff, I know it makes me sound like a pretentious cunt but I don’t know, I like lyrics that are all metaphorical and shroud in mystery, so you’re never really going to understand but you’ll attach your own memories and opinions and shit to it instead, based on the mood the song has, I guess. What about you?”

    “Fuck, Merlin, that’s like, a fucking cool answer, I wish I was that interesting. I mostly like predictable old rock and stuff, Queen and the Beatles and the Kinks and the like. Songs that make me feel nostalgic even though I wasn’t actually alive then, you know? I’ve always liked nostalgia, I think.”

    “I get that, everything is a lot easier when you’re small.”

    “Yeah, you can just play and exist and things are fun and if they aren’t they can mostly be fixed by chocolate or a distraction or a simple “I’m sorry”, you grow up and suddenly it’s complicated feelings that don’t make sense and actually important decisions and issues that would take years to solve properly  and don’t do that, it’s bad for the family name.”

   “Yeah... I don’t have much experience with the last one though.” He bumps his shoulder into Arthur, teasingly.

    “I suppose that one isn’t very typical.” He chuckles.

    They reach the door and all produce their ID, showing it to the bouncer. As soon as Merlin steps through the door, he is blasted by hot, humid air that smells of somewhere between sweat and vodka, bright coloured lights, and loud upbeat dance music with a heavy bass line. He glances across at Arthur who seems to have a similar reaction to the sudden onslaught on the senses.

    He leans over. “I don’t think we needed to care about what we looked like, eh, Merlin?” He practically shouts to be heard by Merlin, who nods in return.

    It’s certainly true, their clothes are hardly going to be noticeable in here. Gwaine taps Merlin on the shoulder and thrusts a bottle of beer into his chest, then one into Arthur’s.

    “I thought I’d treat the pair of you to a free drink since you were both hesitant to come.” Then he ruffles Arthur’s hair and staggers away.

    They smile at each other bemusedly.

—

   A number of hours and a lot more drinks later and Merlin is leaning against a wall, chatting to Gwen and Lancelot about, frankly, god knows what. He’s felt a bit uncomfortable for the past ten minutes, the couple acting far too lovey-dovey for him to not feel like a third wheel.

    “I’m going to pop to the gents’, see you in a bit.” He wanders off in the direction he hopes is the way to the loos. 

   Fortunately, whatever semblance of a sense of direction he has maintained is correct and he pushes on the door, walking in... then stops, inhales with shock, and turns.

   “Shit, sorry, sorry, I didn’t mean to, I didn’t see anything, sorry, Arthur, shit.” He begins to walk, very hastily out of the door.

   He finds an empty corner that doesn’t reek of piss and leans against the brick of the wall, pressing heels of his hands into his eyes and gulping back shallow breaths. The image he saw when he entered the toilets is imprinted onto his eyes: Arthur pressed up against the wall, being snogged very passionately by a dark haired man and undeniably returning the passion. There were hands and lips and fingers and hips and Merlin wants to just forget and throw away the image. It seems Arthur isn’t as straight as he thought then. Then the picture of Arthur when he realised Merlin was there, pink cheeks, wide (and exceptionally blue) eyes, hair pushed back messily and kept there by perspiration, his whole face given a sheen by sweat, that picture, that picture, Merlin doesn’t know how to feel about that because he hates it, it angers him, but also Arthur looked... good. ‘Fucking shut up, shut up, shut up, shut up, shut up, maybe Arthur isn’t straight but he won’t like you, Merlin, he won’t, shut up!’ Merlin tells himself silently. It doesn’t matter, why does it matter? He’s just mates with Arthur, he can hardly be offended, he has no right to be, but he is. It hurts so much more that Arthur likes blokes, but that Merlin isn’t the bloke that he likes. Pull yourself together, mate, he tells himself, and walks over to where he sees Gwaine on the other side of the room, wiping a tear from his cheek on the way.

   “You alright? You look like you’ve just seen a ghost or something.”

  “What? Oh, no, yeah, I’m fine.”

  “Good, because judging by those notes of guitar, that is Mr Brightside which means two things: one, it’s the end of the night and and, two, we have to get to the dance floor. Now.” He pulls Merlin by the shoulder into the centre of the room where people seem to be congregating and, as one, seemingly, the room yells along to the words as they begin, drowning out the actual, recorded singing.

    Merlin shouts the words ‘it was only a kiss’ much more vigorously than he ever has and tries, unsuccessfully, to convince himself that it was. (It was only a kiss. It was only a kiss) But, soon, through the mass of bodies all calling out words in unison, jumping up and down, with the pink and blue lights flashing around them, and guitar and drums blasting through the speakers, he forgets what he was trying to force himself to believe, and just joins the masses in the moment.

   During the guitar solo, Gwaine leans over to him and Percival, who found them a few moments ago and says, “The night finishing on Mr Brightside is how you know you’re at a good club.”

    “It’s how you know you’re at a shit club, mate.” Percival replies.

    “Exactly the same thing.” He turns and grins at Merlin.

    After the song ends and they’re all kicked out as the clock strikes four, the group attempt to gather and find each other on the street. Merlin’s smiling and feeling light as Elyan tells him a joke. Then Arthur walks out and suddenly the hot, heavy feeling of before floods back to his head. Arthur looks very similar to how he did earlier, pink with tousled hair, although it does seem he has attempted to neaten it slightly. His previously ironed shirt is rumpled. Merlin avoids his eyes.

    Along with the general mass of students, they wander back to campus, walking in what definitely can’t be called straight lines. Merlin walks beside Leon, who is impressively sober, at the front of the group.

    “Did you have a good night?”

    “Eh, it was alright.” Merlin slurs.

    “You seemed to be having fun whenever I saw you.”

    “Yeah, but then I saw Arthur and another bloke snogging in the loos- oh, shit, I shouldn’t have told you, that.” He points a wobbling finger at Leon. “Forget everything I said, I never said it.”

    “It’s alright, Merlin, I know Arthur’s bi, he told me in like year 9.”

   “Oh, ok, that’s fine then.”

    “He’s never really got the chance to, you know, date men, what with his dad and stuff, so I think we can forgive him for getting off with one guy.”

   “I guess.”

    “Don’t look soo glum about his kiss, you still have a chance.” He elbows Merlin and gives him a little smile.

   “What?” He exclaims in response, “What do you mean I have a chance? I’m not- I don’t want- that’s not what I- Arthur’s- I don’t-“

    “Merlin, it’s fine, I can see you like him and I’m pretty sure he likes you too.” He gives him a pat on the shoulder as they reach the corner of the street. “Anyway, see you later.” He turns to go the other way to Merlin, as does everyone in the group except Arthur.

    They walk in silence. Merlin opens the door and lets Arthur, who he suddenly realised is much drinker than he thought, in first. “Fuck, I’m tired.”

    It seems, though, that Arthur is even more tired, as mere seconds after entering the room, he collapses onto the floor.

    “Fuck, Arthur, how much did you drink? You’re unconscious obviously you can’t answer that.” Merlin crouches down beside Arthur and thanks the universe that he didn’t hit his head when he fell. “Right, recovery position.” Merlin speaks himself through the first aid training that he’d sort of thought he’d never need, tucking Arthur’s hand, palm down, next to his cheek, pushing the other arm out, bending one of his legs and pulling him over onto his side, glad that it’s so ingrained in his memory he can do it while this drunk. He then stands up and gets Arthur a mug of water for when he wakes up, which is surprisingly soon.

   Merlin watches as his friends eyes flicker open, disorientated.

  “Merlin...” He groans, “What, where, huh?”

   “You got yourself so drunk that you blacked out, mate. Sit up and drink some water then I’ll help you get to bed.”

   “Fanks.” He pushes up on the floor, moving himself so he’s seated with his back leans against the wardrobe behind him. He takes the mug from Merlin and drinks. “How long was I out for?”

    “Only a couple of minutes.”

   He nods. “My sister has always said I was I lightweight, guess she was right.”

   “Yeah, she told me this morning.”

   “She did?”

   “She told me to keep an eye on you.” (It’s then that Merlin realises that perhaps what Morgana meant by “public scandal” may have been more related to sexuality)

   “Well you definitely did that...” He wipes one hand down his face. “About what you saw- in the toilets- the kiss, I wasn’t-“

   “Arthur, I won’t tell anyone about it, don’t worry.”

   “No, not that, although, yes that please don’t, I, just, I didn’t particularly want to kiss him, I said yes, I did want to kiss him, I just didn’t want to kiss him, I just wanted a kiss, I didn’t really care from whom” (of course Arthur still uses whom when he’s so drunk he hardly makes any sense) “and he was there and attractive and he said I had nice eyes and it just sort of ended up there, but he was more of a stand in than anything else, I don’t even know his name.”

   “Arthur, it doesn’t matter.” Although he can’t help but wonder who, exactly he was a stand in for.

   “Ok, thanks, Merlin.” He slurs, but his face seems to show, somehow, a look of disappointment. Merlin won’t read into it, whatever Leon was saying, Arthur would never like him like that.

   “But, for what it’s worth, you do have nice eyes.”

   “You too.”

   Merlin smiles softly. “Thanks, now let’s get you to bed.” He reaches an arm round Arthur’s back and helps him to lift himself upwards, then provides support for the three steps until Arthur flops on to his mattress. “I don’t know if you’ll want to sleep in that, but I hope you have enough of your brain left to take your clothes off yourself. I’m going to brush my teeth.”

   When he comes back into the room a few minutes later, Arthur is snoring, sprawled out on his bed, with only his boxers on. Merlin tucks his duvet over him, then changes into pyjamas and goes to bed himself. To think, just this morning, he was worried about getting drunk and embarrassing himself in front of Arthur.

—

   Merlin is typing at his desk when Arthur wakes up at eleven, he has a bit of a hangover but he’s certain that it’s nothing compared to what Arthur is about to feel.

   “Urghh, how much did I drink?” He rolls over to face Merlin.

   He stops typing and turns to his roommate who’s looking very grey-faced, “I’m not sure exactly, but it was a lot. An awful lot. Enough to make you black out.”

   “What?”

   “Yep, luckily we’d got back to the room by then, and you didn’t hit your head  and it was only for a few minutes, but I put you in the recovery position and gave you some water then helped you into bed, where you stripped for yourself, I wasn’t going to do that.”

    Arthur’s face goes red. “Thanks, mate, guess I’m fortunate I’m sharing with you.”

   “Oh, you also made out with a guy right next to the urinals in the club.”

   Even more red as he remembers. “Shit, er, Merlin, I should have told you, sorry, but also, could you, like, not tell anyone?”

    “I won’t, although I mentioned it to Leon by accident last night, but he said he already knew about you, and you didn’t have to tell me, it’s your decision whether to or not, no one else.”

    Arthur smiles an pauses for a few moments. “I suppose I should probably get up, and also drink something without any ethanol in it.”

    “You probably should.”

    He stands up with a lot of effort and wincing, then staggers, very slowly toward the tap. “And, er, Merlin,” He says without turning around, “I don’t know who that bloke was but I’m 100% sure that I do no want to speak to him again so if you see him, please let me know so I can steer well clear.”

   “‘Course.” Why did Arthur, both hungover and drunk, keep making sure to let Merlin know that he doesn’t like the guy he was kissing?

—

   That afternoon, when both Merlin and Arthur are sitting at their desks typing, with one of their phones playing some lo-fi music in the background, they hear a knock on the door.

    “Yep.” Merlin says.

    Leon walks in. “Just here to check whether you’re alright, you were far more drunk than I’ve ever seen you, hows the hangover?”

   “I mean, it’s shit, it’s a hungover, but I guess it could be worse.” Arthur replies.

    “Have you-er- have you talked about, you know, the- the, er-“

    “The kiss? Yeah, Merlin told me, I told him I would rather not talk to whoever that man was again.”

    Leon smiles. “Right.” Then turns to Merlin. “And how are you doing, you seemed to handle your booze slightly better” (there’s a small “oi!” from Arthur) “but you were still certainly drunk when I spoke to you.”

    “Yeah, I’m alright, thanks for checking up on us, mate.”

    “No problem, just doing the rounds since it seems that I am the only responsible friend.”

    They all chuckle. Leon turns and leaves. Neither Merlin, nor Arthur turn back to their work, they just linger in the silence.

    “How many people have you told, Arthur?” Merlin blurts out, regretting it slightly after doing so.

    “About me- er, y’know, liking guys?” Merlin nods. “Just Leon, you know now too, but I didn’t exactly tell you, and I’m pretty sure Morgana worked it out before I did, so I didn’t have to actually tell her. That’s it. I can’t really afford the liberty of being completely open with it, what with my father being... him. And he’d probably kill me if he found out. Newspapers like the Sun and shit- if they can even be called newspapers- would definitely post articles about it if they knew, even though his ministerial ranking is like 26th as the Chief Secretary to the Treasury, he’s a well known politician so they’d share it about. And the more liberal ones would probably have a field day over a Tory MP who voted against marriage equality having a son who enjoys kissing other men. I can’t really win, so it’s better to just hide it away, I guess.”

    Merlin doesn’t know what to say after all that, after Arthur was so completely open and honest, but he wants to say something, he needs to say something. “Shit, Arthur, I guess I never really realised what it would be like, sorry that that’s how you have to-“

    “I don’t want your fucking pity, Merlin.” Arthur spits out.

   “That’s not what I meant. I just, I always saw your life as easy, you were wealthy, you never had to worry about how your uni would be paid for, you went to Harrow, for fuck’s sake, but I guess it’s not all as easy as it seems.”

   “I do have it a lot better than most.” He shrugs nonchalantly and turns back to his work, as does Merlin. Then, after a few minutes. “Christ, this headache is fucking murder, you don’t have any Nurofen do you?”

   “Yeah, I do, actually.” He reaches into his backpack and pulls out a box, holding it out to Arthur. “Here.”

   “Cheers. I am never going to a club again.”

    “What, you’re going to last all of uni never going clubbing again? With Gwaine as your friend?”

    “I guess not.” Arthur laughs.

Chapter Text

   It’s a fortnight or so later and Merlin is walking home from a lecture, attempting to stop his notes and textbook from soaking in  the downpour of rain, to practically no avail. He starts to jog down the pavement, trying to get home a bit faster and warm up a little - his thin jacket provides hardly any insulation, but he slips over and falls flat on his face, grazing his knee and hands on the way. “Shit,” He starts to push himself up, then “Ah. Fuck. Bollocks.” When he notices the hole he just caused in his basically new jeans. He huffs then walks slightly more carefully back to his dorm.

     Arthur turns around when the door opens to see an utterly sopping wet Merlin. “You okay, mate?”

    “Yeah, well… it’s pissing it down.”

     “And I suppose the shit weather is to blame for the hole in your trousers and mud all up your side?”

    “Well, it is part of the reason, I slipped over.” He slips off his shoes in the doorway. “These were new as well, for fuck’s sake.” He gestures at the hole revealing in his knee. “Maybe I can fix it?”

    “Let me see.” He rolls over in his wheels desk chair and pokes his pen into the hole in the fabric, lifting it slightly. “Hmmmm,” He poses as if deep in thought, “It may be possible, with a steady hand, but we’ll have to assess the pros and cons.”

    “You’re such a pillock.”

    “Excuse me, I am trying to make a diagnosis.” He leans back down and peers into the tear, Merlin feels his face go pink. “Yes, I think that surgery will be an option, and the benefits outweigh the possible disadvantages, so I say we go ahead. As for the injury beneath, I believe a plaster is in order.”

    “I don’t know why you’re playing the doctor, I’m the one studying medicine.”

    “And, yet, you refuse to take this dire situation seriously, how you’ll ever become a doctor with that attitude, I have no clue.”

    “Oi!”

     “I just have to do a few more checks. Lift up your arms.”

    Merlin obeys, if with a little exasperation, and Arthur raises up his own hands, slowly, then lurches forward and begins to tickle both of Merlin’s sides. His friend responds by collapsing onto him in laughter. Merlin’s always been incredibly ticklish, back at home his mum could make him yell out just by wiggling her fingers near to him, so it is entirely, genuinely, unintentional when he falls on top of Arthur, knocking them both into a pile on the floorboards (and getting some mud on Arthur's clothes). Merlin in uncontrollable hysterics, so much so that he can hardly breathe. Once he regains a little composure he manages to stutter out a couple of desperate “Stop”s, attempting, feebly to push Arthur back.

    Arthur is laughing too, in a way that’s hearty and deep and intimate and makes Merlin’s heart flutter a little. He pauses after Merlins pleas turn slightly more coherent. “I guess that’s enough treatment. You’re fine.”

    “Thanks for that, really useful, mate.”

    “Hey! They do say laughter is the best medicine.”

    “I suppose.”

   And it is then that Merlin realises the position they are in, his proximity to Arthur. His torso is trapped between Arthur’s legs, kneeling on the ground and holding him down, and his arms are either side of Merlin’s head. His face is directly above Merlin’s, a grin across his face, and the light is just right, Merlin thinks, illuminating his hair golden and highlighting all the features of his lovely face. Shut up, shut up, shut up. Merlin feels warmth rise up to his cheeks, but Arthur doesn’t move, leant over Merlin, breathless, and his smile changes slightly, happy becomes... contemplative almost. But then the door is pushed open and Arthur jumps back so he’s stood just beside Merlin’s outstretched legs.

    “What is going on here, lads?” A familiar voice says - accompanied by a shit eating grin.

    “Piss off, Gwaine.” Arthur says, but his face is bright red and panicked. Does that mean... that what just happened could have meant something maybe, perhaps, possibly?

    “I need your notes from the lecture yesterday.” He offers a sweet- and completely fake- smile, then adds before Arthur can interject. “I did take some, I promise, but, as you can probably tell, it’s fucking bucketing out there, and they got turned into a mulch in my bag. Sozms.”

    “Oh, alright, fine, I’ll grab them.”

    “You, Arthur Pendragon, are my hero.”

    “Flattery will get you far but not with me. Here.” He begrudgingly hands him a couple of sheets of paper, Merlin has always found it so endearing that he always writes his notes by hand.

   Gwaine grins then glances down at Merlin, still sprawled out on the floor, as if he only just notices and shakes his head. “I won’t ask.” He chimes as he leaves.

    Arthur offers a hand out to Merlin to help him up. “Thanks.”

    “Er, that was, well, y’know-“

    “Arthur, it’s fine, I know it was entirely platonic and we're just friends and it was bros being bros and whatever, don’t worry.”

   “Yeah, um, cool.” Is that disappointment in his eyes? Absolutely not. He’s just embarrassed, that’s why he’s ducking his head. “I’ve got, you know, an essay to write and that.” He sits back down in his chair and scoots over to his desk.

   Merlin sits down moments later and starts to go through his notes.

   They spend the evening working, will occasional sigh or yawn or cough punctuating the silence. At around about eight o’clock, Arthur puts down his own and leans back

    “It’s dinner time.” He declares.

    “Okay...?”

    “Beans?”

    “What about them?”

    “Do you want some?”

    “Do I want some... beans?”

    “Well obviously not by themselves, I’ll make fish fingers or something too, I’m just asking if you want me to make dinner for you.”

    “Oh, yeah, that’d be nice. Cheers.”

    “No worries.” He stands up and walks out the room, flashing Merlin a smile as he leaves.

    Merlin feels himself going giddy just from the smile, it was just, well, Arthur’s eyes lit up and his lips looked wonderful and his hair was shaped in the way it only was after an evening of studying and it was quite possible that Merlin was one of very few people to see his hair like that and that makes him happy, but it shouldn’t. Because Arthur is his FRIEND, for fuck’s sake. And he’s a prat, he’s arrogant and oblivious and really, really quite attractive and sweet deep down really and— that’s beside the point. Arthur is his friend. And a prick. He is.

—

    Twenty minutes later, Merlin’s mobile buzzes with a text ‘DINNERTIME!’, he chuckles as he stands up and picks up a hoodie off the floor quickly pulling it over his head before exiting into the cool corridor.

    When he enters the kitchen, he is greeted by Arthur with a tea towel over one shoulder and a plate balanced on each hand, looking like the spit of a cartoon waiter. Merlin giggles.

   “Now, here we have haricot beans in a tomato jus,” He starts, in a perfect impression of the Masterchef voice over woman as he puts down the plates, “With breadcrumbed haddock fillets, petit pois, and spiced, coiled potatoes."

   “AKA baked beans, fish fingers, peas, and curly fries.” Merlin offers.

   “How very dare you even insinuate that?” Arthur holds his hand on his chest, “This meal is a work of art, art I say! And you come into my restaurant, my kitchen, sit at my table and… and say that? I can’t deal with this, I can’t, I quit! I am throwing in the towel. I am never coming back.” He actually throws the tea towel that was on his shoulder onto the floor and then sits down next to Merlin.

   “I thought... I thought you’d quit?”

   “Yes. I did. So now I’m a customer. Let’s eat.”

    Merlin chuckles as he places a forkful of beans into his mouth.

––

   That evening, when their lights are off and both boys are tucked up in bed, Merlin almost asleep thinking that Arthur probably is asleep. He always falls asleep first. Except for tonight, apparently.

   “Merlin?” He whispers. “You awake?”

   “Huh? Yeah, uh, yeah, yeah, now I am” He sits himself up slightly.

   “I didn’t mean to wake you, sorry.”

   “No, no, you didn’t, don’t worry, what was it you wanted to say?”

    “Just, well it’s fucking stupid, but, I don’t know, I’ve never had a friend like you, I mean, there was Leon, obviously and he’s great, I love him, but it’s not the same you know? It's different with you, good different, definitely good different, I'm glad I have you." Then more quietly he adds "Very glad." And back to the previous volume "Just... thanks."

   Merlin swallows. “I, Arthur, you’re, you… thanks, and it’s my pleasure being your friend and I’m saying that very sincerely, which, as you know, is rare.”

   “Yeah,” He chuckles, “Night night, Merlin”

   “Good night, Arthur.” He lies on his back staring at his ceiling for a while after that. Arthur is just a few metres away, his slow breathing filling the room, and Merlin feels… at peace. Content. He loves Arthur, he really does, but he loves him as a friend as well as in the other way and it’s clear that Arthur loves him platonically too. And that is enough. Merlin really does feel like it is.

Chapter Text

    Maybe he was wrong, maybe it’s not enough. It’s been just under a month since that dinner and, despite Merlin’s repeated pleas to his heart, his crush on Arthur has done nothing but intensify.

    They are sat on a bench in the park. Arthur just finished football practice in the early evening. It’s nearing dusk, and, as what has somehow become routine, Merlin waited for him whilst reading or studying or texting Gwen or some other nondescript and unimportant activity. In reality, whatever he does is just to pass the time before Arthur gets back and inevitably tries to jokingly hug Merlin whilst coated in sweat and very, very smelly. Merlin, of course, always laughs and dodges, even though he doesn’t actually care all that much about Arthur’s perspiration condition. He really really does not care actually, because, despite the fact that Arthur does smell, he's a particular kind of attractive right after a football game. But Merlin can't exactly say that, and running from Arthur's joking hugs is just a part of their friendship.

   'So what are we doing food-wise?’ Arthur pipes up after having sat down and drunk some water.

   ‘It is always about eating with you.’

   ‘Yeah, and?’

   ‘Fine. Uhh, I think the others mentioned something about meeting up and going for a pint tonight the other day, but I am not going anywhere with you smelling like that, also I’m getting cold and want to get my hat.’

   Arthur leans over, wrapping one arm around Merlin’s shoulder, with the other, he softly pats Merlin’s head. Then, in a patronising voice, he says, “Aww, ickle Merlin, getting cold.”

   ‘Piss off.’

   ‘But, yeah, shower then pub does sound good.’

   ‘Cool.’

__

   Just over an hour or so later, Merlin is lounging around on his bed, highlighting notes from one of his lectures, whilst Arthur gets dressed.

   ‘Alright, Merlin, ready to go?’

   Merlin looks up. Arthur is wearing a really quite nice burgundy jumper that makes his arms look very nice, Merlin thinks, over a dark blue shirt.

   ‘Erm, yeah, wait just let me find a hoodie or something.’

   ‘You had all that time when I was showering and getting dressed and you didn’t even think to look then?’

   ‘I was busy!’

   ‘Right, of course.’

   ‘Shut up.’

   No more than five minutes later: ‘Shit. All my jumpers are dirty.’

   ‘Really, Merlin, I expected better of you.’

   ‘Look, it’s fine, I’ll just quickly sponge the tomato sauce off of this one, it should be dry by the end of the night. Probably.’

   ‘No way are you doing that, that’s rank. Look, just borrow one of my hoodies, I’m sure I’ve got one that isn’t… gross.’

   ‘O…kay, yep, sure.’ Merlin began to panic slightly. He was going to wear Arthur's hoodie. Not that he didn’t want to. He very much did. But that was… borrowing clothes is the sort of thing people in a relationship do and, despite Merlin’s wishes, that was not the case for him and Arthur. He wasn’t quite sure how he’d go through the night wearing Arthur’s hoodie. It would smell of him and the others would all notice and it would-

   ‘Merlin? Here’s my hoodie.’ Arthur’s arm is outstretched, holding a plain dark red hoodie with grey drawstrings. He pauses. ‘Are you alright?’

   ‘Huh, yeah, I’m fine, I just zoned out, I’m tired, that’s all.’

   ‘We don’t have to go out if you don’t want to.’ (The ‘we’ did not skip Merlin’s notice)

   ‘No, no, I want to, I’m fine.’

   ‘Okay.’ He hands Merlin the hoodie. ‘It’s the smallest one I have, it’ll probably still be massive on you because you really are a scrawny git, but it’ll do, I think.’

   ‘Thanks, mate.’

   Merlin pulls the hoodie over his head and it really does smell like Arthur and it’s so soft and warm and comforting and really quite large. ‘Arthur, this is huge, we’re literally the same height, how is this this much too big for me?’

  Arthur responds in feigned outrage. ‘Are you saying I’m fat?’

  ‘Piss off, let’s go.’

  Merlin grabs his blue woollen beanie off his desk on the way out and pulls it onto his head.

  ‘You do know Gwaine’s going to nick that the second we step into the pub, right?’

   ‘Yeah, I know, I’m used to it.’

   ‘Fair.’

__

   They arrive at the pub and slide into the booth with their friends. Gwaine does not, in fact, steal Merlin’s hat, he is too busy looking at him with his eyes narrowed.

   ‘Is that… Arthur’s jumper?’

   ‘Yeah, mine were all-‘

‘Merlin here was planning on scraping off tomato sauce on one of his hoodies because he didn’t have any clean ones, so, to save him from being disgusting, I leant him one of mine.’

‘Right.’ Gwen says.

‘Whatever.’ Merlin says quickly, ‘I’ll get the first round?’

__

   A couple of hours later, they’re all slightly tipsy, but definitely still able to make conversation. Arthur’s arm is resting on the back of the seat he sits on with Merlin, his finger’s occasionally brushing the latter’s shoulders. It’s a soft touch, casual, not really there, probably more Arthur fidgeting than anything else, but his hand is warm and informal and he’s oh so near. And that in top of the soft warmth of the hoodie that is Arthur's and smells like him and is his. Yes, perhaps it was just Arthur being nice and being his friend but that added to the feeling of Arthur right next to him is just incredibly comforting. And perhaps a tad hopeful. 

   ‘And then,’ Leon says, continuing another embarrassing Arthur-as-a-teenager story he is telling, ‘He fell over in the mud again and the other team’s striker went right past him and completed his hat trick.’

   Everyone laughed at Leon’s dramatic retelling.

   ‘Not before nutmegging you though, Leon, don’t forget that.’

   ‘Perhaps but at least I wasn’t coated in mud head to toe.’

   Arthur leans into Merlin and, this time definitely on purpose, rests his hand on his shoulder. ‘You know,’ He whispers into Merlin’s ear, his breath warm and soft ‘I have thousands and thousands of stories about Leon, I’m just saving them up so I can cause the maximum possible embarrassment.’

   Merlin smiles and whispers back, ‘Like what?’

   ‘Uhh, once when we were 15, we were on a geography trip to Norfolk, I think, and a few of us got a *little* tipsy one night, then, the next day, the teacher called him up to answer a question and he, well, threw up, all over his shoes. I don't know if he even remembers that one.’

   Merlin giggles. ‘What? I thought he was the responsible one.’

   ‘He is. Which is why he can’t hold his alcohol.’

   Merlin and Arthur laugh, Arthur leaning in so his shoulder bumps Merlin’s.

   Gwen brings them back into the room. ‘What are you two laughing about?’

   ‘Nothing.’ They both say at once.

   ‘They’re just flirting as usual, Guinevere, ignore them.’

   ‘We are not.’ Were they?

   ‘We do not flirt.’ Do they? 

   ‘Don’t call me Guinevere, Gwaine.’

   ‘Look, boys, if you son’t want me to say you’re flirting, don’t act like it all the time, and my sincerest apologies, Gwen. Anyway, anyone up for a rowdier scene? I’m getting a bit bored here, as much as I love you guys, I prefer places with louder music and a spot of dancing.’

   ‘Bold of you to call your movements dancing, Gwaine. But, yes, a club sounds good.’

  ‘Shut up, Perce.’

  Pretty much everyone agrees. Merlin feels very cold. He really does not want to go to a club. At all. And it’s not just the memories of last time, he is a bit tired and he’s not ready to be properly drunk in front of Arthur again, afraid he might do something stupid like kiss him or admit his feelings, and right now he would really quite like to just go back to his room.

   Just as Merlin is coming to accept the fact that he’ll go to the club so as not to be seen as a killjoy, Arthur starts talking. ‘Actually, mate, I think I’ll skip on this one, I have a metric tonne of work to do tomorrow and I’d rather not be inordinately hungover.’

  ‘Alright but you’ll be missing out. Merlin, you’re with us, right?’

   ‘I-‘

  ‘Merlin sort of needs to come with me, well if that’s alright with you Merls, I didn’t bring my key so I require his assistance.’

   ‘Yeah that’s fine by me, I can come.’ Relief floods through him.

  ‘What? First you’re not coming with us and now you’re stealing Merlin, Pendragon? How could you?’

   ‘Sorry all.’

__

   Merlin and Arthur walk back in amicable silence, which Merlin quite quickly breaks.

   ‘Are you alright? You don’t have all that much work to do tomorrow?’

   ‘Yeah, I just didn’t really feel like getting drunk.’

   ‘Fair dos.’

   They reach the door and… Arthur takes his key out of his pocket.

   ‘What?! You have your key?’

   ‘Oh err yeah, sorry, yeah I have it.’

   ’So why did you ask me to come?’

   ‘Because, well…’ Arthur turns around and looks into Merlin’s eyes intently ‘Because you looked really uncomfortable and I know you and you wouldn’t have said anything, you’d have just gone clubbing and hated it because you don’t want to say no and I didn’t want you to have a shit evening just because of that. You deserve to be able to do the things you want to.’ He turns away and opens the door, ‘I don’t know, I might be wrong and you do want to go clubbing, if that’s the case then I’m sorry and I’ll walk you back to the club, you can tell the others that you let me in then came back, I don’t mind.’ He says unsurely then turns around and smiles hesitantly at Merlin.

   ‘No, you were right, I really didn’t want to go. Thank you.’ He pulls Arthur into a tight hug, Arthur’s arms pause briefly before wrapping around his friend. Merlin pulls away and smooths his shirt front out. ‘Uh, yeah, thank you.’

   ‘Anytime, mate, anytime. And you can say if you don’t want to do something, it’s not like Gwaine would bite your head off.’

   ‘Yeah, yeah, I know, shut up.’

   Arthur walks into the room, not before smiling at Merlin once more. The latter pauses in the doorway, smiling.

   ‘Are you coming in or do you plan on letting all the heat out?’

   ‘Yeah, I’m coming in.’

   Shortly after coming in, and closing the door, Merlin takes off Arthur's hoodie, handing it back to him. 'Here. Thanks for lending it to me, certainly much better than a stained one.' 

   Arthur looks up. 'What? Oh, yeah, no worries... Actually, you know what? Keep it. It looked nice on you and clearly you need more jumpers, I don't wear that one all that often. It's yours now.' 

   'I... Okay, thanks, Arthur, that's... thanks.' Merlin turns around and smiles to himself. Arthur said he looked nice. Arthur said he looked nice. And gave him his hoodie. One that he does wear quite often, despite what he said, Merlin notes. 

__

    Later that night, long after Arthur said goodnight to Merlin with a soft hand on his arm, Merlin is lying awake in the dark. He’s thinking about all of Arthur’s casual touches, the almost caringness of them. How his hands lightly brushed Merlin’s neck and shoulders at the pub. How he kept resting a hand on Merlin’s arm when talking to him. For all Merlin tried, he really couldn’t think of Arthur doing that with anyone else. He was rough and jovial and perhaps soft when he needed to be, like when Elyan passed out at the end of a night or Gwaine burst into tears that one time in the loos, but he never seemed to be like this. Never casual and soft and… loving somehow. It may just be their friendship being different to any other, Arthur did say that that night a few weeks ago, it’s probably just that. But whatever it is it's definitely nice. Definitely. Merlin does not want to lose that. Lose the warm, casual softness. He can't. 

   But Arthur said he looked nice and gave him his jumper. 

Chapter Text

   Perhaps Merlin was wrong. Perhaps it wasn’t - isn’t - ‘just that’, that being their friendship being just slightly different. Maybe. Only maybe.

   Merlin pauses outside the door to his dorm, Arthur’s inside, not that that’s weird, it’s perfectly normal, it is, after all, his dorm too. And Merlin isn’t particularly in the habit of avoiding his roommate, but by the sounds of it, Arthur is having a conversation that is not any of his business. But it’s also… interesting. Look, Merlin didn’t regularly eavesdrop but this was Arthur, his close friend and roommate and the conversation didn’t seem that private. If it was they wouldn’t be having it so loudly.

   ‘Morgana, I just can’t okay? I can’t just say it outright randomly-‘

   ‘Arthur, it really isn’t that hard, you j-‘

   ‘Maybe for you, maybe for you it isn’t, but I’m not you and this isn’t a situation even remotely involving you. I can’t, Morgana because too much could go wrong and I don’t want to risk that. I’m happy where I am, where we are, I like it. Saying anything could mess that up and that would be worse than anything.’

   Merlin suddenly feels like he perhaps shouldn’t have been listening in on that, but it’s too late. Morgana is walking towards the door and opening it as she speaks.

   ‘Fine, fine, if that’s what you want, Arthur, but you can’t whine to me- Oh, hi Merlin.’

   Merlin scratches at the back of his head. ‘Uh hi, Morgana, I’m… not interrupting anything am I?’

   ‘Oh no, no don’t worry, Merlin, Arthur’s just being an idiot.’

   Merlin laughs slightly and mutters ‘As usual.’

   ‘See this is why I love you Merlin,’ She ruffles his hair then leans back through the doorway and says ‘Did you hear that Arthur?’

   ‘Yes, I heard Morgana, Merlin’s your favourite.’

   ‘Well, that isn’t exactly what I said but that certainly is true. Anyway, I’ll see you later, Arthur, have a think about things.’ She turns to look at Merlin, ’Merlin, I hope you have a wonderful evening.’

   ‘You too, Morgana.’

   Merlin walks into his room, deposits his rucsac beside his bed before flopping down. Arthur, on the other side of the room is sitting stiffly on his bed.

   After a few moments, he says, slightly tightly, ‘How much of that did you hear, Merlin?’

   Merlin, nonchalant, replies ‘Oh not much, I only arrived a few seconds before Morgana came out.’ He pauses. ‘Why?’

   Arthur doesn’t reply.

   ‘Arthur?’ Merlin props himself up on one elbow so he can face his roommate, who is clearly trying very hard (and failing) to not look uncomfortable. ‘Are you okay?’

   Arthur looks up at him, almost like he only just actually noticed he was there. ‘Yeah, yeah, I’m fine, just… Morgana being a prick, don’t worry about it, mate. Anyway, do you have any more lectures or anything today? I’m done and I was thinking of going on a walk.’

   ‘Uh, no, I’ve not got anything later either.’

   ‘Rad, you want to join me on my walk?’ He had suddenly brightened up.

   ‘First of all, yes, I will do so happily, secondly, did you just say rad?’

   ‘Yes I did, do you have a problem with that, Merlin?’

   ‘Well, not a problem per se, it’s just… are you from 1977?’

    ‘Why 1977?’

   ‘It’s the year in which rad was used most.’

   ‘Why do you know that?’

   ‘I got really interested in like etymology of slang and stuff in year 8.’

   ‘Of course you did, Merlin.’ He says fondly. Like really fondly. So fondly that Merlin’s insides melt a little bit and he has to pause for a few seconds.

   ‘Yeah, yeah, I know I’m a nerd’

   ‘It’s a part of your charm, don’t worry, Merls.’ He smiles very slightly condescendingly (albeit an affectionate condescending) at him.

   ‘Shut up.’ Merlin smiles, ‘Look just let me clean up a bit then we can go on your walk.’

   ‘It’s just a walk not a date, Merlin, no need to put on aftershave.’

   ‘I know that, I just meant- oh you know what I mean.’

   ‘If you say so.’

    Five minutes later, Merlin has put on a jumper over his shirt (over his t shirt) and a thick coat over that, a hat with a very conspicuous bobble, blue mittens with little pink polka dots, and thick socks under his boots. Arthur just has a thin jacket on over his button up shirt and jumper that only just counts as a jumper since it’s so thin. In Merlin’s opinion at least, an opinion which he has previously shared with Arthur. They both look at one another with a look of disdain. Simultaneously, they say:

   ‘You do know it’s just a stroll, right? Not an expedition to the North Pole?’ (Arthur)

   And ‘You are going to freeze in that and then you’re going to whine to me when you do.’ (Merlin)

   Then, again at the same time:

   ‘I am not going to freeze, unlike some, I am made of more than just skin and bone.’ 

   And ‘Just because this isn’t the Arctic doesn’t mean it isn’t cold, it’s still Winter.’

   ‘I suppose we’ll just have to agree to disagree, eh Merls?’

   ‘Yeah, I suppose… but don’t complain to me when you get frostbite.’

   ‘Oh shut up.’ He pulls Merlin’s hat down to cover his eyes.

   ‘Hey!’

   ‘Come on, Merlin, what’s taking you so long.’

   ‘I am going to kill you.’

   ‘You’ll have to catch me first.’

   Arthur starts running out of their dorm, then along the corridor and outside. He keeps running when he reaches the pavement. Merlin follows a few steps behind, having been delayed by his hat and locking the door behind him. They keep running as they go down the street, both out of breath and laughing. Arthur turns around to look at Merlin every few seconds, a smile on his face and a glint in his eyes, before speeding up slightly. Merlin directs a smirk back at Arthur every time. It’s clear (to Merlin at least) that this can’t go on forever, whilst one of them may be a skilful rugby, football, and cricket player (is player even the right word for cricket?) who goes on daily runs, the other is a lanky medicine student who only ever did remotely well in PE because of his height but only when the teachers forced him to. But Merlin is also deathly competitive and refuses to lose to Arthur of all people, so he’ll keep running until he really has no choice but to stop.

   Luckily, Arthur pauses at a corner and turns round to face Merlin, his face flushed and hair pushed back by the wind. Merlin assumes he probably looks roughly similar, although he wouldn’t find it attractive on himself of course.

   ‘I think that’s enough of a run, I wouldn’t want your scrawny legs to give out.’

   ‘I was not the one who stopped running.’

   ‘Perhaps… Anyway, where would you like to go?’

   ‘This walk was your idea, you decide the route.’

   ‘Ok, cool, I was hoping you’d say that.’

   ‘Then why did you ask?’

   ‘I… it doesn’t matter.’

   ‘If you say so.’

   ‘Just, come on.’ Arthur briefly rests his hand on Merlin’s shoulder before turning right.

   Merlin follows and they walk in amicable quiet, with only the sound of cars pootling past as the sky darkens very slightly.

   Arthur breaks the silence. ‘How are you, Merlin?’

   ‘I’m… I’m fine… why do you ask?’

    ‘I was just making conversation, I wanted to know how you were,’ He turns to face his friend with a look of sincerity so strong it shocks Merlin, ‘And we both know that ‘Fine’ is an oversimplification. So, how are you?’

   ‘I’m… I don’t know, I’m stressed, I’m anxious, I’m burned out and there’s still a fortnight left of the first term, I feel like my brain doesn’t work anymore and I think everyone secretly hates me-'

   ‘Well, I can tell you that that last one is definitely not true.’

   Merlin smiles. ‘Thanks. But that’s in an existential way, in a right now, at this very moment way? I’m happy. I like spending time with you and I like wintry walks and it’s nice to have a break from everything.’

   ‘See? That wasn’t so hard, was it?’ Arthur smiles softly.

  'So, what about you, then? How are you?’ Merlin nudges Arthur’s shoulder lightly with his own.

   ‘Oh, I’m fine.’ Something about his tone tells Merlin not to pick at it.

   A few minutes later, they reach a bench by the river, it’s beneath the branches of a tree and under its legs there is grass, not in the best state but not too bad given the season. The bench has clearly been there a long time but it looks sturdy and really quite picturesque. Arthur sits down and it’s clear he wants Merlin to too.

   They sit in silence, Arthur looking almost purposefully expressionless out over the river, watched by Merlin.

   His voice, deep and quiet, cuts through the cool air. ‘My parents met uni, you know? They both went here, my Dad studied PPE because of course he did, I don’t know what my Mum studied. I know very little about her at all.’

   ‘But you know they met here?’

   ‘Yeah, they were in the same college, I’m not sure of the specifics though. When my Dad’s parents found out about her, they were furious. She was of a lower social standing, she wasn’t…’ He says the next word with disgust, ‘Tactical. They tried to get him to break up with her but he wouldn’t. He said he loved her too much, that she was more important than social standing, that class didn’t matter compared to love.’ He pauses and sighs, still looking over the water. After a moment, he turns to look directly into Merlin’s eyes. ‘I don’t know where that man he was went.’

   ‘What do you mean?’

    ‘I mean… By the sounds of it, when he was young, he was… kind-hearted, at the very least well intentioned, but in all the time I’ve known him he’s been everything but. People have told me that before my mother’s death, he was kinder and then the grief broke him but… I don’t see how that could be true. Someone truly kind wouldn’t turn permanently cruel just like that, however hard they are hit by grief. And even before her death, he was a Conservative MP so he wasn’t exactly kind-hearted or well intentioned. It frightens me how when he was young he rebelled against his parents but now he’s just like them.’ He looks back out over the river.

   There is silence for a moment, until Merlin, speaking so softly it is only just not a whisper, says ‘Why did you bring me here, Arthur?’

   Arthur doesn’t look away from the river, ‘They used to come here, my parents, when they were young.’

   ‘O...kay?’

   ‘I don’t want to end up like him, Merlin.’ His voice wobbles and this time when he turns around, there are tears in his eyes, ‘I can’t end up like him.’

   ‘Oh, Arthur.’ Merlin lifts his hand and wipes away Arthur’s tears with his thumb, ‘You won’t end up like him, you have control over who you are and you won’t end up like him.’ He looks into his friend’s eyes, ‘I know it, you have a good heart, a truly good one. You are kind and good and you will not end up like him. Not if you don’t want to.’

   ‘But, but he didn’t want to end up like my grandparents, and yet-‘

   ‘You are not him. You are not your father. Listen to me, you are Arthur Pendragon and you are your own person.’

   ‘Thanks, Merlin.’

   ‘Anyway, you can’t end up like him because I could never be friends with a Tory.’

   Arthur chuckles, ‘Rightly so.’

   ‘You never answered my question: why did you take me here?’

   ‘Well, my plan didn’t go exactly as planned, it was sort of ruined by my sudden crisis of character.’

   ‘Of course.’

   ‘But, while we’re at it, what are your parents like? You don’t have to say if you don’t want to.’

   ‘My mum’s lovely, unbelievably kind, and I’ve never met anyone more hardworking. I love her more than anything, and she gives better hugs than you would’ve thought possible.’

   ‘She sounds wonderful.’

   ‘She is.’

   ‘Your dad?’

   ‘I… I’ve never known him.’

   ‘Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t know, I shouldn’t have-‘

   ‘No, it’s ok, don’t worry, it’s not something I talk about often so you weren't to know, but it’s not like it’s a raw wound. He left when I was a baby. And I don’t suppose I’d say this if I met him, and I’m sure he had his reasons, but I think he was a coward, leaving my mum like that.’

   ’Sounds a bit like it.’

   ‘Guess we’re both kind of fucked up in the parents department then.’

   ‘Yeah.’

    A pause, the only sound the soft flowing of the river and distant people noises.

   ‘I’m glad we’re friends, Merlin.’

   ‘So am I.’

   'Wait, you didn’t let me finish, I was going to say that I’m glad we’re friends even if it means I have to put up with your inane ramblings, your massive ears, and-‘

   ‘I will push you into the river.’

   ‘You wouldn’t.’

   ‘Don’t test me.’

   Arthur laughs and then says, more seriously this time, ‘No, but genuinely Merlin, I’m very grateful to have you, I love you and there’s no one I’d rather cry about my father to.’

   ‘There’s no one I’d rather have cry about their father to me than you. That can’t have been a proper sentence, but I love you too, Arthur.’ It’s entirely platonic but Merlin really genuinely doesn’t mind. That’s not just him convincing himself that he doesn’t want to be in a relationship with Arthur, his crush hasn’t suddenly gone away, but his friendship with Arthur is precious. He treasures it and whilst it might be nice to kiss him, their platonic love is immeasurably important to Merlin.

   Arthur stands up and offers his hand to Merlin, who takes it and lets himself be pulled to his feet.

   ‘I’ll miss you in the holidays, Merls.’

   Merlin would be lying if he said he didn’t melt a little every time Arthur called him that. ‘I’ll miss you too, even though I’ll probably sleep better without your snoring.’

   ‘Oi! I do not snore.’

   ‘You most definitely do.’

   Arthur pushes his hands into his trouser pockets, 'It's a bit chilly, isn't it?' 

   'Now what did I tell you?'

   'Okay maybe for once, you were right.' 

___

   Most of their friends already had already gone back home the day before. Merlin couldn’t leave until today because his mum was working long shifts and wouldn’t have been able to pick him up from the train station at any reasonable hour of the day (Merlin was perfectly fine getting the bus but Hunith wouldn’t hear it, saying it would be cruel to make her son wait for an hour for a bus in December). Neither Arthur (or Morgana who was driving them both back home) particularly wanted to be with their Dad for longer than necessary so they delayed their departure.

   Now they both sit on their beds, neither really wanting to leave but neither saying anything about it either. Morgana flows into the room, graceful as always.

   ‘Brother dearest, I think it is time for us to- Oh hello Merlin, I didn’t know you were still here.’

   ‘Yeah, I, it was more convenient for my mum.’

   ‘Of course, well I hope you have a wonderful holiday, Merlin. The car’s outside, Arthur, I’ll see you there in ten. I’ll leave the pair of you to say your goodbyes. Ten minutes, Arthur, no more, you know how annoyed Father will get if we aren’t home in time for lunch.’

   ‘Yeah, yeah, ten minutes, lunch, I know.’

   Morgana leaves, closing the door somehow elegantly behind her. Arthur stands, not really looking up, a slightly sad smile on his face as he scratches the back of his neck.

   ‘Well… I suppose I’ll see you in January then.’

   ‘Yeah… yeah. January, just over a month.’

   ‘Uhuh.’

   ‘You know it’s… it’s wild we met literally eight weeks ago. That’s all the time we’ve known each other.’

   ‘Shit, yeah, that’s nothing, but it’s somehow so much. You know, there’s just something about you, Merlin.’

   ‘Yeah?’

   ‘Yeah. You’re… you sure are.’

   ‘Thanks, I guess.’

   ‘Not the best compliment ever given.’

    They’re both standing there semi-awkwardly, hands in their pockets, on the verge of both stepping closer together and farther apart, neither sure whether to do the former and neither wanting to do the latter. Arthur’s chewing his lower lip and tipping forward slightly on his toes. Merlin’s eyebrows are knitted together but not clenched and his foot taps lightly on the ground.

   It is the latter of the two that breaks the silence. ‘I’ll text you. In the holidays, I'll make sure to text you.'

   'Im glad,' Arthur chuckles, ‘You need to text me when you get off the train, I want to make sure you get home safe.’

   Merlin knows he’s half joking but he also knows he’s going to send Arthur a text then anyway because he’ll just want to talk to Arthur. That’s if he even lasts the train journey without sending Arthur some sort of message. He smiles. ‘Hug?’

   ‘Yes, of course, I won’t be seeing you for a month, I’m scandalised you even had to ask.’

   ‘Oh, you’re one to talk Pendragon, you hardly know how to be near anyone outside of a rugby game.’

   ‘Piss off and come here.’

   ‘That’s an oxymoron.’

   ‘Shut up.’ Arthur pulls his friend into a tight hug.

    Merlin exhales into Arthur’s shoulder. He’s going to miss him, he’s really going to miss him. It’s only been two months but Merlin would quite happily call Arthur his best friend at this point (although Will might have something to say about that).

    They separate and Merlin walks with Arthur to Morgana’s car just in time before she started shouting. They share another, much briefer hug, then wave goodbye before Merlin walks to the train station.