Chapter Text
*****
The king of Camelot College:
Arthur is a king; not in the literal sense, of course, but he might as well be for he indisputably rules Camelot College.
Arthur is the captain of the college football team, an ‘A’ grade student, has offers from all the top universities and is by far the most popular man on the campus. To top it all Arthur has been blessed with flaxen locks, striking blue eyes, and a physique a Greek god would be proud of. His family's extensive wealth and father’s connections further cement his status and make him the golden boy everyone wants a piece of; which is why it is such a shock when he is dumped by his female counterpart Vivian.
*****
The Bet:
The break-up could not have happened at a worse time - it was just weeks before graduation. Arthur’s best friend Gwaine laughs; he suggests Arthur is merely mad at potentially losing his crown and at the prospect of grovelling to get the girl back. After all, the king of Camelot can hardly be expected to attend all those exclusive end of term parties alone.
Arthur scoffs, arguing he doesn’t want Vivian back because she really isn’t a very nice person but Gwaine merely shrugs in response.
Irritated by Gwaine’s laissez-faire attitude Arthur launches into a tirade about Vivian’s popularity having no substance, her success merely a product of expensive clothes and being friends with the right people.
“Ah, but the crowd loves her for it.” Gwaine concludes, theatrically gesturing at the other students milling about.
“The crowd is fickle. Anyone could replace her.”
Gwaine looks sceptical, “Anyone?”
“They’ll be queuing up to go out with me!”
“Steady on, your lordship, it will take more than that to get an invite to one of Elena Godwyn’s parties, you know they only go to the most select students.”
“You think it’s not possible?”
Gwaine chuckles. “Prove it then, Pendragon!”
“What?”
“Well,” he goads, “if you're so sure all it takes to be popular is some fancy clothes and your royal presence, let’s have a bet.”
“Fine!” Arthur snaps, rising to the bait. “What are the terms?”
“You get to work the legendary Pendragon magic,” Gwaine wiggles his fingers then flicks his hair and points to his chest. “But I choose the bride and whoever it is needs a personal invite, going as a ‘plus one’ won’t cut it.”
Arthur lets out a huff, then glances around at the plethora of prospective subjects and, sensing potential, he nods. After all, a Pendragon never backs down.
They shake hands.
A loud clatter, shrill squeak, and a string of expletives directs their attention to the falling form of Merlin Emrys, the school misfit.
Papers fly in all directions as gangly limbs flail through the air and Merlin lands in an undignified heap on the ground.
“And we have a winner!” Crows Gwaine.
“Bloody hell!” Merlin, the four-eyed giraffe? Jeez, Gwaine knows how to pick them.
Gwaine affectionately slaps Arthur’s shoulder. “Oh, and if you lose -”
“I won’t.” Arthur growls.
“If you say so, Your Royal Highness.” The other man smirks then extracts himself, lifting his hand to signal his departure before sauntering away.
There are scattered sheets of paper everywhere, pens and pencils roll all over the place and the sprawled form in the middle is desperately trying to gather up his possessions.
Arthur bends down, helping to pick up the debris, he forces a smile onto his face and extends his hand.
“Merlin, right? I’m Arthur.”
Introductions aren't strictly necessary, since everyone already knows who Arthur is, but he’s been brought up properly and adheres to the appropriate rules of etiquette.
Arthur’s palm remains empty. Merlin ignores him completely, feverishly retrieving his glasses and ramming them onto his nose with such force it must hurt. Merlin stuffs the last of his wayward papers back in his rucksack then speeds away.
Still on his knees, right hand extended in a welcome gesture, Arthur is left alone. He tries to come to terms with the fact he’s just been rebuffed by a ‘persona non grata’, something that’s never happened before. This is turning out to be a very strange day.
*****
Introductions:
Having failed to make an impression on campus, Arthur discovers Merlin works part-time at a cafe and decides to pay a visit.
Leaning against the counter, Arthur watches Merlin as he deals with various customers and negotiates tables with trays of hot beverages.
Arthur comes to the conclusion he may have been a bit harsh with his initial appraisal. Merlin is not really skinny; his limbs and fingers are long and slender but his shoulders are quite broad and he has strong forearms, muscle and sinew flexing beneath pale skin as he works.
During these observations Merlin suddenly glances up and nearly trips over his own feet. Arthur is delighted - he was beginning to think his presence had not been noticed.
After a few minutes Merlin wanders over. “Are you going to buy something, sir?”
“Hello, Merlin.”
“Arthur.”
“I want to talk to you.” Arthur beams, secretly pleased that Merlin does actually know who he is.
“I’m at work. What do you want?”
“To get to know you.”
Merlin shakes his head and vigorously begins wiping the counter with his dish cloth. “Like I said, I’m at work.”
“I’ll have an espresso, then.”
“Fine!”
There is a stony silence followed by the sound of paper being scored as Merlin scribbles franticly on a pad. Moments later a steaming cup is all but slammed down in front of Arthur, its molten contents trying to splash over the top but not quite making it.
“£2.50, please.”
Handing over the cash, Arthur smirks at the contrast between their brash exchange and all the simpering he usually gets from people vying for his attention and favour.
He clears his throat. “We share some classes and yet hardly know each other.”
Merlin’s fists fly to his hips. “Really? Is this a joke? Your cronies have spent the last couple of years ridiculing me and you’ve never so much as looked in my direction before.”
Arthur shifts awkwardly in his seat. “All the more reason to start now.”
“Just what is going on, Arthur? Am I some sort of charity outreach programme to better your CV?”
“My CV doesn’t need any embellishments, Merlin.” Arthur responds dryly. God, this is hard work.
Merlin glares but Arthur, being a git and a Pendragon with a pedigree three miles long in facing down more terrifying opponents (including his step-sister Morgana, who has the steeliest glare this side of Camelot), doesn't back down. Backing down is not in the Pendragon vernacular. Merlin puts up a worthy fight but eventually his shoulders sag.
Merlin looks totally defeated. “What do you want?” He sighs, pushing his glasses up his nose. “You're obviously not here to recruit me for the football team and despite common stereotypes being short-sighted does not make me some sort of genius, so I can’t tutor you.”
“I don’t need any tutoring, Merlin; I’m top of the class.”
“Right; of course you are.”
Merlin turns his back and begins serving another customer.
Clicking his fingers to get Merlin to look in his direction, Arthur makes a stirring motion with his right hand. Merlin lets out an audible huff and starts rummaging in the cutlery drawer. After banging various utensils on the worktop, he finally produces a teaspoon and scathingly mutters,
“I did not think you needed a bloody spoon; surely someone as entitled as you would have had a personalised one since birth.”
“Are you trying to insinuate I was born with a silver spoon in my mouth, Merlin?”
“I was not thinking of that particular orifice, but yeah.”
Arthur has to take a huge gulp to prevent spraying the counter top with coffee, the liquid scalding his throat as it goes down, but recovers quickly and launches a verbal counter attack.
“So, that’s it! You don’t want to talk to me because of my status and upbringing.” He says in mock outrage, “some might call that reverse snobbery, Merlin!”
Merlin’s mouth drops open and his pale skin takes on a pink mottled hue. Unfortunately, Arthur does not get the satisfaction of hearing a reply; Merlin is being hailed by an obnoxious woman drumming her red claws on the counter and demanding to know where her Darjeeling is.
It really should not be this difficult. The things Arthur wants normally drop into his lap with little to no effort. His usual charm is not having the desired effect and Arthur flounders for a moment, looking down at the floor in an uncharacteristic display of indecisiveness - which is when he notices the paint splattered across Merlin's scruffy, Doc Martens and the germ of an idea takes root.
As soon as Merlin’s attention is free Arthur seizes his chance. “Look, if you must know, I want to learn more about art.”
“Art?”
Arthur nods solemnly. “Almost all my subjects are sciences or sports. I want to broaden my horizons but I don’t know anyone creative.”
He receives an incredulous glare from Merlin that lasts several moments.
“You’re not going to go away are you?” Merlin's hand, which has been working vigorously at a speck of dirt on the worktop, pauses.
“Nope!" says Arthur.
"You're going to stay here and bug me all day like an entitled prince until I give in, aren't you," says Merlin, lips quirking up at the corners.
"Yep!" Arthur shrugs.
“Fine." Merlin says. "I’ll meet you inside the Ealdor Theatre at seven.”
Arthur’s smile is so wide it hurts his cheeks. He’s about to say something else but Merlin has obviously decided business has concluded because he’s thrown a checkered tea towel over his shoulder and is busy taking another order.
Not so much as a backward glance is directed at the king of Camelot as he exits the shop. Nevertheless, Arthur feels strangely invigorated by the snarky exchange.
*****
The Theatre:
Despite arriving on time, Arthur can’t see Merlin anywhere. An act is about to start on stage so he finds an empty seat and plonks himself down, scanning the rows for that now-familiar mop of black hair.
The curtain rises and some strange music starts, the lights lower and a spotlight highlights an undulating mass of material on the centre of the stage. Slowly, bodies start to emerge from the writhing fabric, they’re clad in lycra with painted white faces and one has glasses - it’s Merlin! Well, that’s certainly a surprise.
Arthur watches transfixed as the performance unfolds, the players move rhythmically about the stage and mutter odd words in unison. When it’s all over he joins in with the applause, giving a bemused clap.
Suddenly there’s a spotlight beam making him squint and Arthur hears his name being called, welcoming him on stage. His throat is dry and he wants to run - damn it, Merlin!
He should just bolt; he could be back on the street before anyone recognises him (granted that’s highly unlikely in a place like this). He can’t do it; a Pendragon never backs down from a challenge and Arthur's not going to start making exceptions now. Especially not now. Not when all eyes are trained on him. Not when Merlin's sceptical eyes are trained on him.
Arthur holds his head high, ascends the steps and confidently walks across the boards. His shoes squeak on the floor as he stops in front of the mike; he has no idea what he is going to do. Thrusting his hands into his pockets Arthur finds salvation - the beanbag he uses for football practice.
Physical agility is something Arthur excels at - it’s his lifeline. He pulls out the bean bag, tosses it into the air, then gracefully catches it on the side of his foot. He launches it into the air once more. A beat starts to play and Arthur finds himself doing keepy uppies. Before he knows it, he is waxing lyrical about how hard it is to stop the bag from falling to the floor and about all the pressure and expectations he’s under.
By the time the bag eventually slams into the deck, Arthur’s worked up quite a sweat. He looks up, panting. Silence greets him, he straightens and adds dramatically,
“Sooner or later, it has to drop!”
This proclamation is followed by muted claps that echo through the auditorium.
It’s nothing to the roar he receives on the pitch after scoring a winning goal but he’s never done anything so crazy before, nothing so completely out of his comfort zone and unexpected - his father would have a fit!
Arthur throws back his head in an exuberant roar. Merlin looks totally pole-axed - which somehow makes this whole scary experience worth it.
*****
The Beach:
Having defied expectation and performed on stage, Arthur eventually persuades Merlin he has to come to the beach.
Getting Merlin there is not an easy task.
"I've got chores to do for my mum," says Merlin, standing on his doorstep with arms defiantly crossed.
No amount of arguing that ‘even a nerd like Merlin deserves free time’ changes his mind. All that Arthur gets for his trouble is a headache and a flea in his ear about being condescending.
“The Pendragons may have servants but some of us actually have to do our own housework.” Merlin says, slamming the door.
Arthur wants to argue that technically George is not a servant, but decides this information won’t help his case.
"Fine!" He shouts through the letterbox.
Arthur may have lost the battle but he’ll be damned if he’ll lose the war; he whisks out his iphone and makes a few calls.
When he next arrives at Merlin’s house he has a cleaning team in tow (the junior football club he coaches). Which turns out to be an inspired move.
At the beach Arthur introduces Merlin to his friends; he’s happy to observe Merlin finally letting down his guard, relaxing a little and getting into the swing of things.
It’s a hot day and Merlin peels off his various layers and baggy jumper. Beneath that purple monstrosity lurks a surprisingly lithe body and Arthur hears Gwaine whistle appreciatively. Perhaps this bet is winnable after all?
Having been at the beach for several hours, Arthur’s skin is faintly bronzed and his hair is stiff with salt. He notices that even Merlin with his milk-bottle complexion has a slight blush across the bridge of his nose – it looks good.
It’s time to go home and Arthur is packing items into his car when he turns to face Merlin.
“Admit it, you had fun today.”
Merlin shrugs, “It was alright.”
Arthur crosses his arms and tilts his head. “ Alright? I saw you chatting to people and actually laughing a couple of times.”
Merlin bites his bottom lip and kicks at the tyre of the car before looking directly at Arthur.
“Yeah, okay, I had fun. It was good; thank you.”
The admission feels like a huge victory and it’s all Arthur can do not to whoop and do a full on air punch. He settles for bumping Merlin’s shoulder with his own, a wide grin splitting his face.
*****
The Makeover:
Introducing Merlin to his inner circle has gone better than expected, and Arthur finds he’s actually enjoying spending time with the man. He has discovered that they have some things in common, both having been brought up by single parents. And despite the differences in background and outlook they get on remarkably well - or at least, they do when Arthur is not being a ‘monumental pillock’ as Merlin so eloquently puts it.
Arthur doesn’t mind the insults really, he enjoys the verbal sparring and gives as good as he gets. Merlin has a sharp wit and they have spent many hours just talking, having heated disputes and generally putting the world to rights.
Attending a party would only cement Merlin’s new status. However, when Arthur mentions it, Merlin baulks and what little colour there is drains completely from his face. Merlin stutters about having to do his assignments, helping his mother, and having nothing appropriate to wear.
Once again the junior football team is dispatched to clean ‘House Emrys’. Arthur offers to help Merlin with his college work but it’s not necessary, the written assignments are all done and disappointingly, Merlin refuses to show him his art. And, finally, Arthur's sister (and self-appointed fashion guru) can’t wait to get her claws stuck into Merlin, and sorts the clothing issue.
The metamorphosis occurs in secret. Morgana storms into his house with various bags and appliances and whisks him upstairs for an inordinate amount of time.
Arthur finds himself making chit-chat with Merlin’s mother. She seems like a very nice, if slightly lonely, lady. Arthur likes her. he never knew his own mother but imagines if she’d been similar to this woman he would have been very happy.
There is a loud cough and Morgana casually walks down the stairs. She makes a bit of a fanfare by waving her arms and proclaiming, “I give you the new and improved Merlin Emrys!”
There is a creak from the landing and Merlin slowly descends the steps.
“What do you think, Arthur?” Morgana purrs. “He scrubs up nice, doesn’t he!”
Arthur can only nod in assent. Morgana had totally transformed Merlin with a new suit and haircut. The effect is stunning.
The suave illusion is broken when Merlin stumbles, only just catching himself against the bannister.
“I can’t see; she stole my spectacles!”
“Don’t worry about trivialities like that.” Morgana tuts, waving her manicured hands dismissively. “Go have fun, boys!” She plants a palm on each of their backs and shoves them out the door.
***
At the party Merlin reluctantly mingles whilst Gwaine catches up with Arthur.
Gwaine nods appreciatively towards Merlin. “I’m impressed. You’ve done a good job, my friend.”
“Leave him alone, Gwaine.” Arthur bristles.
“So, what’s the deal with you and Emrys?” Gwaine demands, clamping a hand on Arthur’s shoulder.
“What do you mean?”
“Well, is he off limits or do I have a chance? It’s just, you’re taking it pretty seriously aren't you? You’ve missed a couple of practices, you’re with him all the time, anyone would think - ”
“It’s just a bet.” He snaps, pushing past Gwaine and into the crowd.
Arthur is seething; he doesn’t know why Gwaine’s words have made him so mad. He’s never judged Gwaine for his dubious attitude toward relationships even though he’s had every right to. Arthur remembers the number of times Gwaine has missed training due to dates, and all the disappointed girls and boys Gwaine’s let down over the years. Arthur’s done nothing wrong and does not appreciate receiving the third degree on his behaviour with Merlin. However, his whirring thoughts are interrupted by the sound of raised voices.
He arrives in the middle of a fracas, just in time to see Valiant (footballer and school thug) throw his drink over Merlin.
Merlin’s verbal retaliation is swift and accurate.
“Really, is that the best you can do? All that aggression. You may want to lay off the steroids mate, you’re looking a bit busty. Long-term use can shrink your testicals, you know!”
There are several sniggers before Valiant snarls and makes a lunge, but Merlin is already heading for the door.
Valiant is struggling but being held in an arm lock and Arthur knows he must deal with him before he can go after Merlin.
***
Despite proclaiming he’s not athletic, Merlin has made it a fair way before Arthur catches up with him.
“What happened back there?” Arthur pants.
Merlin does not stop walking and Arthur has to take his arm to make him halt.
“Merlin?”
“I was stupid. I should have never gone; I should never have said anything. I told myself I would never let them see how their snide remarks got to me and now...”
Arthur changes his grip and puts a hand on Merlin’s shoulder. “You had every right to be there, Merlin; I invited you. It was fun, wasn’t it? You had fun. Don’t let a complete tosser like Valiant spoil it - he was just drunk.”
“He only said what everyone already thinks.”
“No, Merlin. They only tolerate the git because of his family and his football skills. People were impressed you stood up to him and put him in his place.”
Merlin shakes Arthur off. “What does it matter when no one else ever does anything? Just because he’s spoilt and rich he can get away with it.”
“I suspended him from the football team pending the results of a urine sample.”
“Oh, I did not -”
Arthur lifts his hand. “You did us all a favour. Besides, his girlfriend started screaming about a rash and getting other tests so he’s not having a good day regardless.”
Merlin suddenly looks sheepish.
“Merlin?”
“When I went to pee he was passed out in the bathroom. I checked he was breathing and everything but he was slumped over the toilet, the cheeks of his arse on show… and, well, he’s always been mean to me so I may have drawn red spots on his backside with a biro.”
Arthur stares for a moment before bursting into laughter. “That’s absolutely priceless. I knew you would teach me the finer points of art.”
It takes a good few minutes for him to recover; when he does he’s pleased to see Merlin is now smiling too.
“Come on, I’ll walk you home.” Arthur says, wiping the tears from his eyes and stifling a snort.
*****
Betrayal (When Merlin finds out about the bet):
News of Valiant and Merlin’s altercation has spread like wildfire and Arthur is pleased to see other students stopping to shake Merlin’s hand and slap him on the back. That’s not the only change; Merlin seems to exude confidence; his spine appears straighter, his gait sure-footed, and he smiles and laughs more - which transforms his face and is a joy to see.
Arthur is happy; there is a spring in his step and he feels like he can accomplish anything - he already has, hasn’t he? Merlin is slowly opening up and Arthur is genuinely enjoying the man’s company. Merlin challenges and questions him in a way no one has ever done before and has made him believe in his own worth rather than chasing his father’s approval all the time.
Arthur’s good mood comes to an abrupt end with a smack to the back of his head. Smarting, Arthur spins ‘round, raising his arms instinctively only to find Merlin giving him a murderous stare.
“Is it true?”
The words are like ice and Arthur only has to look at the man to know he’s found out.
Merlin is livid; Arthur has never seen him so angry. His cheeks are flushed, shoulders hunched, and his knuckles bleached into white fists - but worst of all is the hurt written in his eyes.
“I can explain.”
“Is it true? Answer me! Was I a bet? Was I just a bloody bet? ”
Arthur bites his lip. He wants to deny it all; he doesn’t want to lose Merlin but the damage is already done and Gwaine is just there, arms folded and scowling.
“Yes.” He eventually chokes out.
Merlin’s features contort into a grimace. He stares at Arthur for what seems like an eternity, then all hell breaks loose.
The laugh is high and cruel and doesn’t suit him at all. “I should have known it was too good to be true, that this was all a joke. What a gullible fool I’ve been. I hope you had a good time at my expense.”
“No, it wasn’t like-”
“No; you don’t get to speak, Arthur! I never asked for this.” He snarls, ripping open the shirt Arthur gave him and kicking off his shoes, hurling one at Arthur’s head with painful accuracy.
“I never asked for any of it! You can stuff your fancy clothes; I don’t want them and I don’t want anything to do with you! You rich, supercilious arse.”
The other shoe hits Arthur on the shoulder. He’s anticipating a punch - which would be fully deserved and almost welcome - but it does not come.
He watches stunned as Merlin walks away, wondering how the hell he made such a mess of things. He does not register the shadow falling across his path but he does feel the sharp sting of the slap against his cheek.
“You stupid bastard!”
For once Arthur nods and agrees fully with his sister.
*****
Gwaine Makes a Move:
Arthur holds the invitation in his hand; he wants to rip the damn thing up. Elena Godwyn’s party - it means nothing now, just a stark reminder of what an idiot he’s been. He tosses it on the floor and pulls his hair at the roots.
“Well, that’s not going to help, is it?” Morgana observes curtly.
"What do you suggest?”
“Oh, I don’t know, you could try talking to him!”
***
It takes an hour to track Merlin down, but when he eventually finds him Gwaine has got there first.
Gwaine has been Arthur’s best friend since junior school. Arthur may be the king of Camelot, but even he has to admit Gwaine is incredibly good-looking and serious competition - what with the glossy hair, athletic build, seductive grin, and fashionable stubble. The trouble is, Gwaine knows he’s irresistible and takes full advantage. Gwaine covets pretty things - and lately he’s been looking at Merlin.
Gwaine has always been open in his desires; he’s not interested in commitment or after anything serious. He enjoys life to the full and seeks pleasure and a good time wherever he can get it - Merlin deserves better than that.
Arthur will concede this whole bet thing got completely out of his control. He doesn’t know what he expected to happen, just bit of fun maybe trying to make a point? Arthur really did not intend to hurt Merlin but he’s damn well not going to let anyone else do it either.
*****
Sorry:
Merlin has ignored all attempts Arthur has made to contact him.
Arthur runs his finger over the embossed invitation. He doesn’t actually want to be at the party, but there is a chance Merlin might be - albeit with Gwaine. It may be his only chance to talk to Merlin and put things right between them.
Despite several others vying for his hand, including Vivian of all people, he does not want any of them and takes his sister Morgana to Elena’s party.
It’s a lavish spectacle as always, but he’s not interested. He has nothing but contempt for himself and the other guests all decked out in their best. He hunts for Merlin and can’t say he’s surprised when he doesn’t find him anywhere. Arthur does spot Gwaine though, in a secluded corner with mouth securely locked onto Elena's.
Arthur leaves immediately and goes straight to Merlin’s house.
Merlin is leaning on the wall outside his house; he’s wearing his glasses again and his white dress shirt and tie are undone.
Arthur sits down carefully and waits. He does not attempt to speak; his mouth is too dry to get the words out anyway. Instead, Arthur focuses on his own breathing and slowing down his hammering heart.
Merlin does not turn to face him; his voice is measured and cold.
“Go away, Arthur.”
“You weren’t at the party.”
“Oh, I’m sorry - does that mean you lose your precious bet!”
“I don’t care about that bloody bet! I only care about you. I saw Gwaine -”
“And he was with Elena.”
“I’m sorry, I should have -”
“He’s in love with her, always has been apparently - or so he says.”
“Merlin -”
“Gwaine was very honest about his intentions from the beginning. So you see, Arthur, I don’t need rescuing just like I did not need to be dressed up like a doll and paraded around for your amusement.”
“Merlin, I’m -”
“You know, for a moment you actually made me believe I could be one of you.”
This time Merlin turns to face him. “I’m not like you, Arthur. To be honest I don’t know why I even wanted to be.”
No, you’re better.
“It’s just me and mum now. I work at the cafe to help out with the bills and pay for my text books. My clothes were old and shabby but I was ok with that. I kept my head down and got on with it. I let jibes and insults roll off my back because the people that said them did not matter. Then you came along, Prince Bloody Charming, with your big teeth and golden hair and I fell for it. I actually began to think you may be interested in me but it was a lie, wasn’t it? You were only trying to turn me into something I’m not!”
“Merlin I -”
“No, Arthur.” Merlin tosses the stick he’d been carving up the earth with and points at his chest. “This is me; this is who I am. I’m not going to change, so you can just bugger off back to Pendragon castle and leave me alone.”
“I don't want you to change.”
“What?”
“I want you to always be you. I don’t want you to change, Merlin. You’re better than me - than all of us. Stay as you are but stop building walls and just let me in.”
Merlin does not say anything for a moment, incredulous. “Or what, Pendragon, you’ll break through my portcullis?”
Arthur snorts. He throws back his head and lets out a deep laugh - it’s infectious and the corners of Merlin’s mouth twitch in response.
Arthur just manages to control his mirth and wipes the tears from his eyes.
“I missed you, Merlin.”
“I missed you too.”
There’s an awkward silence, until Merlin breaks it.
“You made me feel like Julia Roberts in Pretty Woman - well, apart from the whole being a female and a prostitute.”
Arthur isn’t sure how to respond. “It worked out okay for them in the end though, didn’t it?” He adds hopefully.
“That was just a movie.”
“So that’s it?”
Merlin does not speak.
“Look, I’m sorry.” Sorry is not a word that pops up in the Pendragon vocabulary very often and he almost chokes saying it, but he does mean it and yet it does not seem enough. Not nearly enough. “I was an arrogant arse but please just give me a chance.”
Time ticks by and Arthur thinks he’s really blown it until Merlin reaches slowly into his pocket and retrieves a folded piece of paper. He silently passes the cream square to Arthur who opens it carefully.
He sees his own eyes looking back at him. The sketch is rendered in charcoal and ink, the likeness uncanny. Merlin has captured Arthur’s form and melancholy perfectly in just a few simple lines.
The drawing must have been done recently since Arthur never felt so miserable before. “This is incredible.” He remarks. It truly is - Arthur had no idea Merlin was so talented.
He reluctantly hands the paper back, their fingertips brushing briefly as Merlin retrieves the drawing and places it carefully back into his breast pocket.
“Gaius, my art tutor, said ‘it demonstrates a maturity and emotion that up to now has been missing from my work’. He wrote me a really good reference; I should thank you for that at least.”
“Merlin, please…”
Merlin’s face is unreadable. “What you did, it wasn’t very nice.”
“No.”
“You hurt me.”
“I did.”
“Don’t do it again.”
What does that even mean? Arthur is normally so ultra confident and assured but he’s still uncertain; he can only hope as he tentatively bites his lip. “So we're good?”
“No.” Merlin shakes his head.
The bottom drops out of Arthur’s world.
Merlin gives a small smile, “but we could be.”
Arthur lets out the breath he’s been holding. He crosses the short distance between them, their noses almost touching when he stops.
“May I?”
Merlin blushes and nods hesitantly.
Arthur reaches up and gently removes Merlin’s glasses. He carefully folds them up and places them on the wall.
“There’s something I’ve been wanting to do for a very long time.” Arthur tilts his head and moves closer to Merlin, who shifts to accommodate him.
There is the sound of breaking glass.
Merlin jerks up. “Damn it, Arthur! They’re my only pair and I’ve only just got them back from Morgana.”
“You look better without them.”
“That’s not the point! I can’t see a bloody th-”
Any further protests are silenced as Arthur plants his lips against Merlin’s mouth.
*****
Graduation:
Never let it be said that a Pendragon does not honour a bet.
Graduation arrives and Arthur is thankful that it’s a warm, sunny day. He can hear whispers from the students next to him and adjusts the football on his lap.
He may have lost the bet, but for once it doesn’t matter because he has something much better - Merlin.
Arthur hears his name being called. He stands up, feeling the breeze against his bare skin and the audience lets out a collective gasp. He’s naked; the conditions of the bet mean he only has his mortarboard and the football to protect his modesty. Trust Gwaine to come up with something like this!
To collect the certificate he has to let go of the ball; the crowd roars and bangs their seats in anticipation. Arthur hunts the rows of faces until he finds the one he’s looking for. He smiles and nods at Merlin, who nods back.
This is it. Arthur takes a deep breath, pauses dramatically, and waits for the mob to hush. In silence he lets the ball drop, extends his hip and kicks it into the crowd with all the finesse of a superstar. The crowd goes completely wild!
The End