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Summary
It's bad enough that Arthur is going to have to get a stupid fucking stats tutor because he spends all of his lectures staring at the back of Merlin's neck and wondering what sort of noises he'd make if Arthur scraped his teeth against all that pale skin. But now, now he's supposed to tolerate Merlin showing up at his door early in the morning with snowflakes clinging to his eyelashes? Now he's supposed to spend four hours alone in a car with him, and fuck all, there is no way Arthur comes out of this without making some manner of arse out of himself.