Work Text:
Merlin thinks that, so far, everything is going alright.
He’s managed to avoid human interaction after Gwen abandoned him in lieu of having a dance with Lance, and he’s calmly having a drink on the sofa while assessing his surroundings uninterestedly through half-lidded eyes. He wants to go home, but he drove Gwen to the party and he’s not going to leave her alone, never mind that Lance is probably the nicest guy of the entire school and would without a doubt take care of her better than anyone, but Merlin promised Gwen’s mum they would be back at a proper hour.
Merlin’s almost falling asleep when someone startles him, plopping down on the sofa beside him and throwing a careless arm over the headrest and across his back. Merlin turns his neck, surprised to see it's Arthur.
“Enjoying the party?” he asks, pushing his fringe off his forehead only to have it falling back over his eyes again, blond and shiny and soft-looking.
Merlin tries to be nice, even when he’s actually bored out of his mind and doesn’t care in the slightest about parties. He’s only here because it’s Gwaine’s birthday and he's alright. And maybe also because Gwen forced him to come. “It’s okay, I suppose,” he says with a one shoulder shrug.
His arrogance is already showing on the wriggle of an eyebrow before he asks, “Only okay?” And then, all of a sudden, he places a hand on Merlin’s thght, just above his knee. “We could change that."
Merlin pauses, sucking in a breath and feeling his eyes glue down to the place where Arthur’s palm is burning against his jeans. He doesn’t know what the fuck is happening. It’s not as if Arthur’s a stranger, because in spite of the continuous insults they trade back and forth and endless bickering they subject their other classmates to, they get along just fine. It's just that seeing Arthur taking such a liberty as to touch him, and in such an intimate place, no less, is beyond Merlin’s understanding. Maybe it’s because when Arthur’s drunk he gets all touchy-feely, but that doesn't make it any less weird.
“What?” he croaks, squirming when Arthur’s hand moves upwards, fingers gracing the inner seam of his jeans, just over the side where Merlin's especially sensitive. He doesn’t really leave Arthur time to respond before he’s jumping to his feet and scrambling away from the sofa, muttering the lamest excuse about having had too much to drink and needing to use the bathroom.
Once he’s safely locked himself inside, he realises he might as well take a piss while he waits for Arthur to move on to someone else and leave him alone. He washes his hands and promptly frowns at his reflection in the mirror, at his flushed cheeks and glassy eyes. Stupid party and stupid alcohol and stupid Arthur.
He should have probably seen it coming, but, naturally, Merlin walks into Arthur as soon as he flings the door open and steps outside.
“Are you hiding from me, Merlin?” Arthur's smirk is playfully, and Merlin hates him for looking amused and seductive in equal parts as he leans against the wall with crossed arms.
“No,” Merlin replies. “I just don’t know what you’re up to, but whatever it is, I’m not interested,” he attempts to push past him, but Arthur sidesteps, blocking his way.
“Oh, really? Do I have to make myself clearer?” Arthur seems far too amused for Merlin's liking, and Merlin’s starting to feel incredibly annoyed. “I invited you to the party, I keep following you around and flirting . . . You’re too much of an idiot to realise, of course, but I’ve been trying to snog you for ages.”
Merlin gapes, but only a little. “You’re - drunk, clearly you don’t know what you’re saying.”
Arthur barks out a laugh. “And you’re an idiot but I still want to snog you, so shut up and let me.”
So Arthur grabs Merlin’s shirt and pulls him closer, crushing their lips together. Merlin wants to protest, because he's tired of Arthur's presumptuous attitude that everyone wants him, and yet when Arthur lets out a small and appreciative moan against his lips Merlin sort of - freezes. He had thought Arthur was just taking the piss that day he complimented Merlin's outfit, or that time he congratulated him on getting the best grade, or just last week when he insisted on walking him home and then stood by Merlin's door, giving him that look, like he was waiting for something. Maybe, Merlin realises, Arthur's not kissing him because he thinks Merlin likes him, maybe it's him who actually likes Merlin.
He isn't sure when his lips have begun moving, hesitantly, still confusedly, but he kisses Arthur back. Arthur cups Merlin’s face in his hands and moans again, and Merlin is a little bit lost. Because who would have thought Arthur was actually this shitty at flirting - either too agressive, too forward or way too passive to the point of being everything but obvious. So Merlin presses Arthur against the wall and relishes the sound he makes when he gives a soft bite to Arthur's top lip. Arthur's lower body shifts, inching closer enough for their groins to touch, and a hand sneaks down Merlin's chest to grope the shell of Merlin's arse.
Taken aback, Merlin pulls back, but Arthur doesn't seem to mind.
He presses their foreheads together and rasps, “I'm only saying this 'cause I'm drunk as fuck, but you’re not too bad at this.”
Merlin snorts, but there's a smile edging on his lips. “That’s it, that’s all you wanted to do?”
Arthur pulls back and raises an eyebrow at him and even Merlin is surprised at his own words.
“I guess I’ll be going back down then,” he adds, deciding to keep on teasing, before he moves back.
“Merlin,” Arthur grumbles in that tone, then grabs his wrist and holds him in place. He seems to notice contained grin on Merlin’s lips, because he smirks softly himself. “Where do you think you’re going?” he says while he uses his grip on Merlin's arse to steer him inside a random room stealing a couple of kisses as he goes.
“Where do you think you’re taking me to?” Merlin tells him, and then he feels like he should get back at Arthur, for all the pranks in school, for the public name-calling and pestering him during breaks and laughing at him during PE. For taking so long to do this. “I’m not that easy, Arthur.”
Arthur seems suddenly wrong-footed. “I—” He searches Merlin's face, gripping the back of Merlin's t-shirt tightly, as if he doesn't want to let him go.
Merlin tries to keep a straight face while he extricates himself from Arthur. “I’ll see you on Monday, Arthur,” he says, managing to contain his laughter at the nonplussed look on Arthur's face as he leaves him behind.
*
On Monday Arthur only glances with a small frown while he enters the classrom and heads to his seat at the back, but doesn’t say a thing. Merlin turns his neck around to give him a look and when he sees Arthur sank in his chair, arms crossed in front of his chest and a - pout on his lips Merlin can't help but smile. As soon as the bell rings, Merlin quickly decides to solve things. He follows Arthur to the loos, and when he makes sure they are empty, Merlin allows himself to shove Arthur inside one stall and pin him against the wall. Arthur looks wonderfully dazed.
“Hi.” He smiles. Toda his mind is clear, and neither is drunk. Today, Arthur's still bothered by what happened, and that tells Merlin enough.
“Hey,” Arthur replies with a confused look but with a small smile.
“We have ten minutes before chem, I say we make the most of them,” he proposes, leaning in and pressing a kiss against Arthur's mouth.
This time, when Arthur places his hand over the curve of Merlin’s arse and brings their clotches closer, Merlin doesn’t pull back. This time, he urges him to go on, and Arthur, with a brilliant smile, seems more than happy to comply.
~fin.