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“Emrys!”
Merlin doesn’t pause in yanking apart his clarinet. The bell already rang. Arthur may be Drum Major, but he only gets to tell Merlin what to do during band. Band is over for the day, and Arthur can suck it.
“Emrys, listen, you have a minute?”
“I’ve got to get to class,” he says, hefting his backpack and clarinet case. He attempts to push past Arthur into the hall, but Arthur grabs his arm.
“It’ll only take a second.” Arthur jerks his head in the direction of one of the little practice rooms. The secluded, soundproofed practice rooms. Where Arthur can yell at him without an audience.
And suddenly, Merlin wants it. He wants to hear whatever bogus demerit Arthur thinks he can pin on him, and he wants to tell him exactly where he can shove it. “Fine.” Merlin drops his bag with a loud thud, sets down his case a tad more care, and spins on his heel to head off toward the practice room. He can feel eyes on him from all sides, the entire trumpet section having paused in their gossip to watch, and it just makes him feel braver. He flings open the practice room door with not a little flair.
Arthur enters and closes the door behind him with a squish of the rubbery soundproofing material, and Merlin lifts his chin and waits for it, breath heaving.
Arthur shifts on his feet, looking…nervous?
Yeah. Well. He better look nervous. If Arthur thinks Merlin is going to respond to anything he’s about to say with sir, yes sir, he’s got another thing coming.
Arthur says nothing.
“Let’s have it,” Merlin snaps.
Arthur looks up, surprised. “Oh. Um, okay.” He holds out an envelope that Merlin hadn’t realized he’d been carrying.
Feeling a bit thrown off, Merlin yanks it out of his hand and starts ripping it open. “Are we handing out demerits in sealed envelopes now, Arthur? Want to add a little ceremony to—”
Be my valentine, the card reads in swirling red script. Inside, under the printed Happy Valentine’s Day message are scrawled only two words: Love, Arthur.
“What,” Merlin says.
Arthur shifts his feet again. “Um.”
“Is this a joke?” Merlin looks up, expecting to see an ugly smirk on Arthur’s face. But Arthur looks…actually a bit like he might vomit, but his jaw flexes, and he says,
“No. Not a joke.”
“Really?” Merlin is extremely skeptical. “Because you spend all your time on the field yelling at me.”
“Yeah,” Arthur agrees, and Merlin is about to start yelling himself, when Arthur sucks in a breath and confesses, all in a rush: “I have trouble remembering there are other people besides you. It’s a problem.”
Merlin blinks.
“I thought maybe I could take you out on a date? As a…solution to the problem.” Arthur bounces on his feet.
“Oh.”
“Yeah.”
“Okay,” Merlin says.
Arthur nods rapidly, and Merlin nods along, and the both of them must look like bobble-head dolls until Arthur abruptly stops. “Wait. Did you mean, okay okay? As in, yes you’ll go out with me?”
“Yeah,” Merlin says faintly. Because why not? Up is down, and down is up, and why the hell not. “Sure. Sounds good—oh!”
Arthur leans into his space all in a rush and places a tiny, wet thump of a kiss on Merlin’s lips. They stare at each other in mutual surprise.
Until the bell rings, that is, and they have to run to class, exchanging wide-eyed glances as they grab their belongings and run off in opposite directions.
Merlin spends the rest of the day opening and closing the card, reading over and over and over, Love, Arthur.
Why the hell not.