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Merlin takes a deep breath and braces himself before pushing his key into the lock of his dorm. He can’t believe how happy he was when he first arrived and saw that he would only have to share the assigned flat in the dorms with only one other student instead of five, as some other poor souls did. What he did not count on however, was that the other guy in his flat was as infuriating as he was gorgeous and Merlin was annoyed at him as much as he was in love with him.
He knows for a fact that Arthur – the idiot in his dorm – likes taunting him, even hates him. And no, Merlin is not exaggerating; he’d overheard Arthur complain about him to his mates at the beginning of the year. He’d said what a strain it was to live with him and that he wished he could go back to a time before knowing Merlin Emrys existed. Boy had that hurt. Merlin had felt horrible because up until then, he’d actually thought the two of them were an okay match. They weren’t best friends, but Merlin liked to think that was more his own awkwardness due to the feelings he had that were so strong that he didn’t properly knew what to do with them…
But that was then.
Now, Merlin is extra careful not to let his damned crush show, but it made living together extremely difficult. Merlin spends as much time as he can in his tiny, tiny bedroom and at this point relies on take-out instead of cooking because the latter would only mean more time in the communal areas and he was certainly not up for more chances to run into Arthur.
Perfect Arthur, Merlin can’t help but roll his eyes as he makes his way up the four flights of stairs to their apartment. With his perfect hair and perfect teeth and perfect face and hands and butt and…
He shakes his head and opens the door to their flat very quietly. The lights are out and Merlin can hardly see in the ever disappearing light the more the sun goes down. Arthur technically shouldn’t be home, but he’s not taking any chances. He toes his shoes off by the door and tries to silently make his way across the living area to disappear into his shoebox of a room.
He stops dead in his tracks, when he hears a moan from the couch neither of them really spend any time on.
“Arthur?” he asks, his voice rough from the sensation of speaking the name out loud.
Another groan.
Merlin tiptoes to the light switch and the flat is immediately flooded with cheap fluorescent light which hurts if you look immediately at the source. But Merlin doesn’t even think about the light bulb, his eyes go wide as he takes in the scene before him. There are three empty cups of instant ramen on the small university issued couch table, the chair from the small desk which is attached to an ancient computer and printer is lying in the middle on the floor as if tackled in a rush of anger and there he is… Arthur, on the couch, shielding his eyes from the light with his elbows.
Merlin can’t help but stare. The Arthur he knows is always impeccably dressed. Preferably in something resembling a crisp white shirt and dress pants – the most pretentious look to ever pull off if you were still in uni, Merlin thought and had equally often expressed this to others in the past. Mostly when slightly inebriated. Always, when he was feeling sad and lonely and oh so in love. Arthur is always clean shaven, his skin is constantly glowing and his hair is always – ALWAYS – perfectly coiffed. Never a hair out of place.
And yet, here they are and Merlin is confronted with… a different kind of Arthur. A kind of Arthur who lies on the sofa on a Monday evening in black joggers, a white shirt with definite food stains covering the front and a hoodie that looks two numbers too big for him. It is old and the stitches are already fraying in some places. Merlin takes in the mismatched socks; one of them has smiling broccoli stems on them and the other displays dinosaurs with a speech bubble saying “Rawr, I’m cute”. Merlin feels like he is about to explode.
“Arthur, are you… okay?” he asks and scrunches up his nose because he has been doing a stellar job of staying away from the prat and now he’s what? Offering help? Not that he’d offered yet but what if Arthur said no? It simply would be a dickmove to say okay and move on, wouldn’t it?
Arthur just grunts in response and slowly let’s his arms drop to his sides. Merlin’s heart is about to burst. Arthur’s hair is longer than it’s ever been. It’s in absolute disarray and Merlin can’t help but wonder if that is what a lover potentially got to see whenever waking up next to Arthur. Or… doing other things with Arthur. He obviously isn’t feeling well, Merlin can tell that much, but the fact that Arthur hasn’t shaved and is now sporting a stubble? Merlin’s subconscious wants to immediately fling himself at the man on his couch and find out for himself which activities would make Arthur’s hair even messier.
Instead, Merlin grips the table edge with the computer buzzing silently next to him and gulps – hard.
“No, Merlin, I am not okay,” Arthur croaks out and sits up. There is danger in his eyes and Merlin isn’t quite sure what to expect from the usual very full of himself, but sweet when no one was looking, perfect student.
“Okay,” Merlin tries again, eyes flicking from one side of the room to the other, “what’s wrong?”
“The printer, Merlin,” Arthur wails and suddenly jumps off the couch.
“The printer isn’t working and I have… paper and… no sleep… and Mr Marble… BUSINESS PLAN!”
The last one, he almost shouts in Merlin’s face. Merlin flinches.
“Right, okay, so the printer doesn’t work?” Merlin tries again and reaches down to press the on button of the printer and computer respectively mainly to have something to do.
“It…” what follows next is a sound Merlin suspects a dying whale might make in its last moments.
“No, it doesn’t work,” Arthur finally mumbles and collapses back on the couch. Merlin studies Arthur’s face intensely.
“Have you… been up all night?”
“Try the past three nights,” Arthur snaps and rolls his eyes, which prompts Merlin to do the same.
He can feel the initial attraction at seeing his roommate this disheveled fade and instead, annoyance creeps in. As if Arthur wasn’t a 22 year old adult but a baby cow. Or a goat.
“Right. Listen,” Merlin starts and sighs, “I am going to offer to help you one time and if you’re going to be an asshole about it I’ll go back to my room and watch some Netflix, yeah?”
He bends down to pick the chair back up and puts it in its rightful place. He wouldn’t be the one paying for anything that’s broken in this shithole at the end of term, that’s for sure. Not if it’s Arthur freaking perfect Pendragon who actually turns out to be human (and even more gorgeous, his mind supplies) after all.
Arthur mumbles something under his breath.
“What?”
Arthur sighs. “I said, you always just go to your room and Netflix.”
He fixes Merlin with an intense look that Merlin doesn’t know to interpret. They stare at each other for a minute before Merlin catches himself.
“Well, yeah. I’m not the going out type. I’m not like you.”
Arthur snorts.
“I’m not the going out type.”
Merlin lifts an eyebrow.
“Could’ve fooled me. All those Friday and Saturday nights at the pub, stinking up the flat with I don’t know what kind of booze and floral perfume; no doubt from your latest fling.”
Merlin only notices at the end how much he clenches his teeth as the words escape him and he quickly shakes his head to recalibrate.
“So. Do you need my help or not?”
***
Merlin is glad when the what he calls ‘printer incident’ is over because Arthur makes his deadline, he goes to get his hair cut and styled back into shape the next morning and the week progresses as if Monday has never happened.
Merlin is in a good mood when he comes home on Friday. Classes had been nice, he didn’t have to say a single word in any of his seminars (he could hold a conversation like no other but talking in class? Only to have someone tell him his opinion was wrong? No, thank you sir, that was not for him).
He takes two steps at a time, the just bought packet of crisps happily crinkling in his bag and he couldn’t wait to get his joggers on and immerse himself in the novel he’d just started. It has Dragons and sorcerers and a chosen one girl who loves to read by day and kicks everyone’s ass by night. Exactly Merlin’s jam.
But when he puts the key in his door, he frowns. The door should be locked. It’s Friday night, Arthur is at the pub, like always, like it is supposed to be.
Slowly and as silently as he can, Merlin opens the door and peeks inside. Was there a burglar in his flat? Why would someone try to break into a student flat? He keeps his keys between his knuckles as he’s seen people do on TV whenever they expect to have to defend themselves and sneaks inside.
All the lights are on and it smells like… food? What kind of burglar breaks into a flat to cook? Merlin edges toward the kitchen and stops.
Behind the kitchen counter, Arthur is humming to a song on the radio and swaying his hips in the same joggers Merlin has seen him wear on Monday. He is also wearing a soft looking grey t-shirt, that hugs his body in all the right places – as far as Merlin can tell from only seeing him from behind. He swallows and is about to pass the kitchen to hide in his room, when Arthur turns around and smiles at him.
Merlin is officially deceased.
He hates you. He doesn’t want to know you. He’d rather share a flat with anyone else, Merlin says like a mantra in his head. Because by god, the stubble is back. And Arthur’s skin actually looks healthy this time. Which blasts Arthur’s hotness level through the roof as far as Merlin is concerned.
“Merlin!” Arthur greets him and slowly moves towards him and Merlin is just… confused.
“Good, you’re home. Dinner is almost ready and I thought you could pick a film. I’m not all that picky, really. Except for that tiger show. Gwaine tried to make me watch it last week and it was hooooribble,” he makes a face but is still smiling as if this is normal. As if they did this every week, every day.
“Uhm,” Merlin looks around himself.
“What?” he finally asks, not being able to come up with anything better and still not able to look away from Arthur’s crinkling blue eyes and that damned beginning of a beard.
“Dinner,” Arthur says, slowly this time, “I am making lasagna.”
“I’m vegan,” Merlin retorts. He doesn’t exactly know why, only that this is the only thing that pops into his head right about now.
Arthur chuckles and turns back to the oven.
“I know,” he says and bends down, giving Merlin a fantastic view of his backside, “it’s completely egg, dairy and meat free.”
Merlin doesn’t know what to say. He still doesn’t when Arthur stands back up and looks at him again. Arthur sighs and takes his backpack off his shoulders.
“Put your shoes and your coat away and move to the couch. And take some wine glasses with you, will you?”
“I don’t drink.” Merlin feels like a killjoy. He should just enjoy this weird kind of alternate reality in which Arthur smiles at him and cooks for him and casually touches his shoulders while helping him out of his coat. Right… right?
Arthur chuckles again, “I know. You could say we… live together.”
Merlin doesn’t understand. But finally does as he’s told. He goes to the tiny living room, plants himself on the tiny couch and holds the wine glasses in his hands as if his life depends on it.
Soon after, Arthur joins him with a bottle of coke and two small dishes of lasagna, placing them on the tiny table in front of them.
He slowly and wordlessly takes the glasses out of Merlin’s hands and fills both half way with coke before leaning back. Their arms touching. Merlin feels like his complete left side is on fire.
What is happening here?
Arthur grabs the remote control and starts up their tiny TV Arthur brought into the flat with him. Merlin has never used it.
Instantly, Netflix is on and Arthur slowly scrolls through the available content.
“Are you more in a series or in a movie mood?”
Merlin says nothing.
“Series, then. Since we have all weekend. How about…”
Merlin looks over and finds Arthur’s face so close, due to the total lack of space on this couch. He studies the frown of concentration Arthur wears while he clicks through and dismisses shows one after the other. The tip of his tongue peeks through his teeth and Merlin desperately wants to know if this is a habit. If that’s what he does when he’s concentrating. And suddenly, he envies everyone who’s ever seen Arthur Pendragon study for a test.
Arthur suddenly sits up straight, turns to Merlin and looks at him like a 10-year-old at Christmas.
“Listen, Merlin. Have you ever seen the Christmas Prince trilogy?”
Merlin frowns. “The trashy romance films which are getting dragged every time a new one comes out?”
Arthur fully turns around to Merlin and brushes his hair out of his face. Merlin hadn’t even noticed that it wasn’t styled up as it normally was. It just lies soft over Arthur’s forehead and now that he did notice, Merlin itches to touch.
“Okay, listen,” Arthur breaks Merlin’s train of thought, “One, yes, they’re the romance films. Second of all, they are not trash and d), … hold on,” Arthur scrunches up his nose in thought, “did I use letters? Numbers? How many facts did I already give?”
Merlin can’t help it; a laugh startles out of him and it seems to surprise him as much as Arthur, who completely trails off and smiles at Merlin, eyes crinkling and soft.
“If I would’ve known I just had to behave like an idiot to make you laugh, I would’ve done so ages ago,” Arthur murmurs and slowly leans toward Merlin.
Merlin’s eyes are fixed on Arthur’s face. His mouth, his half-lidded eyes…
He smacks his hand on Arthur’s forehead to keep him from coming any closer.
“What,” he breathes out, “what are you doing?”
Arthur leans back and regards Merlin suspiciously.
“I was… going to kiss you,” he admits.
Merlin freezes.
“Kiss me?” he screeches in a high-pitched voice and slides further away from Arthur even though there are effectively only about two centimeters to slide left.
The frown is back on Arthur’s face and if Merlin didn’t know better, he looks genuinely confused.
“You can’t kiss me,” Merlin exclaims indignantly, “you’re… you’re Arthur Pendragon, and straight and you hate me!” he almost shouts and then falls silent, slightly embarrassed by his outburst.
If anything, Arthur’s frown grows deeper and Merlin wants to crawl up to him, smooth his forehead out and tell him how pretty he looks. Always.
“Hate you?” He slowly gets up and paces in front of the TV, which is running the trailer of ‘A Christmas Prince’ in a loop.
Arthur stops to look at Merlin and Merlin isn’t sure if it’s anger or frustration in Arthur’s eyes. Either way, it doesn’t bode well for him.
“I don’t hate you, Merlin.”
Merlin doesn’t know what to say.
“But, but I heard you! You said,” he nervously runs his hand through his hair, “you said: ‘Good grief, now I’m rooming with Merlin Emrys? I wish I could forget he existed. I wish I didn’t have to see him ever again’ to your mate at the… at the welcome back event on the first day of the semester,” Merlin accuses and also stands up. Suddenly full of rage.
“So,” he growls, looking at Arthur, summoning all the confidence that he has, “what are you playing at? Did you think is was funny? To kiss the queer roommate? Is it a bet, huh? Whatever it is, I am not playing any games with you.”
And in that instant, Arthur completely deflates. He shuffles his feet awkwardly and it looks so out of character for Arthur, that Merlin is momentarily taken aback.
“Aw man,” Arthur sighs.
“Okay, so this is a conversation we should have. Sit down, please?” he gestures at the couch and gets himself the squeaking chair from the computer table, sitting down in front of Merlin, on the other side of the coffee table. He nervously kneads his hands together before he looks up.
“So, yes. Okay, yes. You heard me say those things, then.”
Merlin nodded triumphantly, even though hearing these words feel like ripping through the old wound all over again.
“But,” Arthur pauses, “you heard them out of context. I said them to Leon, whom I just can drop these things on because… because he knows that I’m in love with you since freshman year.”
Merlin does a double take and blinks rapidly. His mind is going a hundred kilometers per minute. Was he supposed to believe this? But oh how he’d longed to hear these words out loud for so long.
Arthur sighs again and looks at the ceiling.
“Oh Christ, this is embarrassing. Okay listen, I met you the first day of freshman year and you were this cool, cute guy who was best friends with gorgeous Gwaine who just exudes attractiveness and always wears these dress shirts as if he was a proper adult and then there was me with my hoodies and my messy hair and his was so shiny and… sorry, getting off track. Anyways, Gwaine looked – looks - like what I thought you wanted. And I slowly started wearing…,” he actually grimaces, “the shirts and the trousers and… I thought if I looked like an adult, you might at one point… fall in love with me? Maybe? And… then you didn’t and I got the roommate assignment and… my flat is the only place where I can be me… just Arthur. With my romance novel collection and my computer games and my Netflix… and then I was supposed to live with you and I felt so much pressure and so many feelings that I thought I couldn’t control…and then I said that. And then we started living together and then Leon said that… you went to the pub events. So I went, every week. And I thought. I might see you there. And we might get talking and walk home together and then… Oh I don’t know what I thought.”
Arthur stops fidgeting and looks straight into Merlin’s shocked face.
“But then. On Monday, I had my meltdown. And you helped me. And you looked like… you looked at me like… like you wanted me. You kept looking at my mouth and… it’s the beard, isn’t it? Because it looks like Gwaine's?” Arthur strokes the stubble on his chin absentmindedly, “and so I thought if it was just the beard, I would just have to do something that… Gwaine wouldn’t do. And Gwaine wouldn’t cook for you and he wouldn’t remember what you liked…”
“Because he’s a thoughtless idiot,” Merlin interjects and releases a breath that almost sounds like a sigh.
Arthur chuckles.
“Because he’s a thoughtless idiot”, he sobers again, “and just now, the way you looked at me… I thought you… I thought you wanted to kiss me and I am so sorry I overstepped. I am so sorry, I shouldn’t have… done any of this,” Arthur wildly gesticulates around himself.
“I’m just… sorry,” he finishes and with that, he seems to deflate. He almost seems like he implodes and keeps getting smaller with every breath.
They sit in silence for what seems like hours, before Merlin just stops thinking and blurts:
“I want you to kiss me.”
Arthur looks at him with obvious surprise.
“Merlin, just because I just told you all of that doesn’t mean…”
“No, I… Arthur I always want you to kiss me,” Merlin says slowly, hoping Arthur would understand.
He huffs, when Arthur doesn’t make a move. Doesn’t even seem to blink.
“Shit, this is awkward,” he laughs and nervously messes up his hair again.
“Don’t… don’t do that,” Arthur says, eyes fixed on Merlin’s hair.
Merlin slowly takes his hand down and looks confused.
“What?”
Arthur clenches his teeth and tucks his hands in under his legs.
“It’s… god it kills me when you run your hand through your hair like that. It makes me want to do that to you. It makes me want to hold you, to stroke your hair, to kiss you on your temple because you just look so sexy with your hair pushed back,” he giggles, “that’s a mean girls reference by the way.”
Merlin grins.
“Obviously I know that’s a mean girls reference,” he pauses, “do it.”
Arthur looks at him with wide blown eyes.
“Listen,” Merlin starts again, “I’ve been desperately, tragically, pathetically, head over heels in love with you and I have been, ever since you and I were paired together for the freshman day. Besides being extremely hot,” Merlin side-eyes the stubble, “please don’t ever shave,” he grins, “you are sweet and kind to everyone around you. You are incredibly smart and you are hardworking and ambitious. And I would’ve clung to your every word if not for the fact that I was completely sure that you hated me.”
The grin that stretches over Arthur’s face is the most beautiful that Merlin has ever seen and it would be extremely cheesy if he compared Arthur’s smile to the sun and he is a vegan so he is not going to do it. He is however, smiling back. So wide his cheeks hurt.
“Does… does that mean I’m actually allowed to kiss you now?”
“That depends,” Merlin smirks, “am I allowed to mess up your hair?”
Arthur laughs and sounds almost breathless when he replies: “You can do whatever you want” and lunges at Merlin, tipping over the chair for the second time that week in the process.
They collide over the coffee table. There is an urgency that Merlin has never felt before as they try to navigate Arthur around the table and back onto the couch without breaking their contact point. Their lips are clinging to each other as if this was what they’d been waiting for all their lives. Together, they collapse on the sofa and Merlin straddles Arthur to make it easier for him to bury his hands in Arthur’s hair. A deep moan sounds in Arthur’s throat as Merlin let’s his fingertips explore Arthur’s scalp and they kiss and bite and nip at each other until they are so out of breath they finally only share air.
“I love you so freaking much,” Arthur mumbles, sounding a little drunk and tired at the same time.
“So much,” Merlin agrees and digs his fingers deeper into Arthur’s skin where they rest on his arms. The need to hold on is overwhelming and he couldn’t stop even if he wanted to.
It was only much later, when they finally got around to eating their lasagna, their sides touching shoulder to ankle, and drinking coke out of wine glasses, when Merlin says:
“You do actually know how hot I find you like this, yeah?”
Arthur looks at him, seemingly puzzled and Merlin points his spoon at Arthur’s hair, beard, shirt and joggers in turn.
“Fuck the white crisp shirts and fuck adulting. I want you just as you are. Trashy romance movies and all,” he grins at the same time Arthur exclaims “Oi!” and gestures to the TV: “Rose McIver is classic in this one. It is romantic. It is lovely.”
“Whatever you say, babe,” Merlin says and snuggles into Arthur’s side.
He can’t believe where his evening had gone. The packet of crisps – his reward for getting through the week – are forgotten in his room. This, is so much better.