Game Play (Arthur/Merlin)
Title: Game Play
Fandom: Merlin
Art: Masterpost here by nane0
Pairing: Arthur/Merlin
Rating: PG
Word Count: 7,032
Summary: Arthur and Merlin meet playing an MMORPG. And then meet again in real life. And then things go wrong.
Written for the merlinreversebb.
FutureQueen: “Merlin.”
Emrys: “Don’t start with me, Gwen. Honestly.”
FutureQueen: “It’s two in the morning.”
Emrys: “Yes.”
FutureQueen: “And you’re still awake.”
Emrys: “As are you.”
FutureQueen: “And playing Kilgarrah Online.”
Emrys: “As are you!”
FutureQueen: “I don’t have the most important exam of my term tomorrow. But you do. And you should at the very least be studying. Or sleeping!”
Emrys: “Gwen. It’s fine. It’s a history exam. It’s not as if I was actually going to study for it anyway.”
FutureQueen: “Then you should be sleeping.”
Emrys: “You’re just trying to get me offline.”
FutureQueen: “Yes. Because I think you’re addicted to this game.”
Emrys: “Oh, hello, Ms. Pot. I’m Mr. Kettle.”
FutureQueen: “I don’t spend ten hours of my day playing.”
Emrys: “Neither do I!”
FutureQueen: “You do! I counted today!”
Emrys: “You’re not my mother. Now piss off. I have to find the magic sword.”
FutureQueen is offline.
Merlin sighs. Having Gwen angry at him is not his favorite thing. But then again, neither is having Gwen act as his surrogate mother. He has no doubt that on some level, she’s probably right, but he also has no idea why she thinks it’s such a problem. He does it schoolwork. He goes to class. He works regularly at the bookshop on High Street. He even goes out for a pint or three on Student Nights.
Addiction implies that he is forgoing other important things in his life to satisfy his need. He isn’t. He’s just supplementing his life with an enjoyable online one. And there is absolutely nothing wrong with that.
***
Gwen doesn’t speak to him for two days, which isn’t even a record. It is impressive though, since they share most of their classes and live in the same flat. She has a skill at keeping her nose turned up at him in a way that Merlin can only dream of replicating.
She gives in on Saturday morning, when he presents her upon waking with a full English breakfast. Her nose makes a graceful landing and the smile that replaces it is one of satisfaction. Gwen has always rather liked it when Merlin admits he was wrong. Merlin doesn’t really feel like he was, but being nasty to Gwen isn’t exactly something he’s proud of.
“I know I mother-hen sometimes, Merlin,” is the closest she’ll get to giving him an apology in response. “But I just worry about you. I don’t want you to get sucked into it. You remember how Will was when he discovered World of Warcraft.”
“I know, but Will doesn’t exactly have a lot going for him,” Merlin points out, dipping his sausage in syrup, as he’s been wont to do since he was a child. “I mean, he still lives at home with his mum and has no ambition whatsoever. I can only imagine he’s bored out of his skull.”
“Except for WoW.”
“Except for WoW.” Merlin smiles, takes a bite out of the sausage. “But I’m not like that. I have a life, and lots of friends and a job. I can’t afford to let myself get sucked into a world of gaming.”
Gwen sips her tea, quiet for a long time. Merlin can practically hear the soft murmur and rush of her thoughts. “So why do you do what you did yesterday?” she asks quietly. “You have all of these things going for you. All of these people and things in your life. How can you spend ten hours playing and get agitated and defensive when someone tells you that maybe you should take a break?”
Merlin feels a wash of guilt at her words. He didn’t realize that he had actually hurt Gwen’s feelings. “I don’t know,” he admits. “But I’ll try to work on that. And I’ll try to acknowledge that if you’re telling me to stop playing, or suggesting that I stop playing, that there’s probably a good reason for it. And I’m sorry.”
Gwen smiles gently at him, reaches across the table to squeeze his wrist. “Thank you, Merlin.”
***
Merlin has been gaming since he was four years old.
It was never particularly worrisome for his mother; he liked to take a Gameboy with him from time to time when they ran errands together, and he was fond of Super Mario. As he grew older, and gaming systems became more advanced, more involved, he became more fascinated by the way they worked and the things that could be done within the realms of their use.
He has over a thousand games. He doesn’t play most of them anymore; many he’s played through and beaten several times, usually with other people, but often alone. He also can’t stand the idea of getting rid of any of them, because in ways he can’t explain (and hasn’t tried, because he can only imagine the responses he’d get), they’ve become his friends as much as any human being has.
He didn’t venture into the infinite and widespread world of massive multiplayer online role-playing games until he was seventeen and applying to universities. It was Will’s fault completely. He maintains that to this day.
“Seriously, Merlin, you can’t knock World of Warcraft until you try it,” he insisted, with that same big-eyed, earnest expression he often used when he felt Merlin was just refusing to be reasoned with. “And I want to play with you. It’s always more fun if you have a friend.”
“I’m sorry, Will, but I just can’t afford the subscription.” Merlin shook his head, speaking quietly. He was forever trying to keep Will from shouting in the library where he worked; he couldn’t understand why no conversations between them could wait until they were at home. They lived across the street from each other, for god’s sake. “It does sound fun though. Maybe I can ask for a subscription for my birthday.”
Will gawked at him, as if this was the most offensive suggestion anyone had ever made. “Your birthday is seven months away!” he practically shouted. “Seven months! That’s almost a year.”
“It’s closer to half a year,” Merlin corrected in a hiss. “And for god’s sake, will you stop shouting? I’m at work!”
“Alright, alright.” Will raised conciliatory hands. “Just promise me you’ll give it a try. They do free trial subscriptions.”
Merlin rolled his eyes. “Alright, fine. Fine. I will try it out.”
***
And he did mean to, until he realized that to create an account, even for a free trial, he had to enter his credit card information, and he didn’t have credit card information to enter. He certainly wasn’t going to ask his mother to let him use hers. She only used it if she needed to buy groceries before she was paid, and he wasn’t going to ask her to use it for something frivolous, not when credit card debt could sink them.
So he did the next best thing. He Googled free online role-playing games, and after a few aborted attempts and several rather mean online people who continued to refer to him as a “n00b,” he found Kilgarrah Online.
The game itself was fairly simple, as Merlin assumed most were. The players were under the command of a Dragon King named Kilgarrah. One could choose to be a contented subject of this king, or could choose to be a rebel against him, someone who was actively trying to bring down the monarchy. The game-play, the people and characters one teamed up with and fought against, were all based on this decision.
Naturally, Merlin decided he was content to serve the Dragon King. He supposed that later in the game, if he found this impractical or unsavory, he could change his status. Gwen scolded him about the amount of thought he put into the decision. “It doesn’t matter, Merlin. Either way, you have to go on quests and have battles.”
Merlin vehemently insisted that it was a matter of ideology, and the people he plays with better have the same moral code as he does. (They don’t, most of the time, but it makes him feel better to think they might.)
If he’s honest with himself, he’s made more friends while playing the game than he did during all of his years of primary and secondary school. He has Will and Gwen, and Will slightly less, now that he’s been sucked into WoW, but for the most part, the people he knows, he knows virtually. And he’s alright with that. They’re lovely people.
One of those lovely people pops up on his screen suddenly, in the form of a sorceress.
Merlin grins and types out a greeting to her.
Emrys: Morgana! You haven’t been on in ages.
LeFay: I know; it’s been far too long. My photography lecturers are trying to kill me. I have two exhibits at the end of this month.
Emrys: That sounds horrible. Can they do that?
LeFay: Apparently. Don’t you have exams soon?
Emrys: Why is everyone so concerned about my coursework?
LeFay: There is literally no one less concerned than I am, believe me. Gwen been mothering again?
Emrys: YES. Do you think I spend too much time playing?
LeFay: Not sure. My brother has now become completely obsessed. I don’t think anyone plays quite as much as he does. We have a lecture together; I swear he was logged on and playing while there. I heard him muttering to himself.
Emrys: It’s people like that who give the rest of us gamers a bad name.
LeFay: Definitely. Are you doing the Golden Egg quest?
Emrys: Yes, I’m on it now. Care to join me?
LeFay: You’d work with a rebel?!
Emrys: Only one so talented as you. ;) If you like, we can battle for the Egg once we’ve found it.
LeFay: We’ll see how much I like you then. Lead the way, sorcerer.
***
The worst time to play is when none of his friends are playing.
For Merlin, gaming is like any activity; it’s generally more fun to partake in a group, or at least a pair. He wouldn’t play football alone because he wouldn’t have anyone to kick the ball to, and he wouldn’t see a film alone, because there would be no one to share his running commentaries with (and no one to tell him to shut up). Gaming without a friend is a lonely experience. There are all sorts of highs and lows, triumphs and failures, that need moral support, and without anyone to give it, it all seems rather pointless.
LeFay abandoned him (with Egg in tow) four hours ago, and Emrys is wandering about a virtual countryside in search of items. He’s waiting to come across someone who might have an interesting quest for him to join in on, or who might just be interesting to talk to.
In the meantime, he’s loading his pockets with coins and clothing and weapons. Some of it, he’ll sell when he gets back to the kingdom. Most of it he’ll keep. Hoarding is the best way to keep afloat in the game. The more you have, the more likely you have something someone else needs, and when someone needs something, there’s any number of things they’ll do to have it.
A small blip sound alerts him that another character has appeared in the area, and he clicks the icon in the corner for information about him.
“A knight,” Merlin murmurs to himself, wrinkles his nose. He’s never been fond of knights. They always think that brawn is worth more than brains. Most of the time, Emrys is rather good at proving them wrong. He’s outwitted most of them without even needing to cast any spells.
A dialogue box pops up.
The_Prince: Are you loyal to the King?
Emrys: Yes. Are you?
The_Prince: I’ve dedicated my life to his service.
Emrys: Kind of you.
The_Prince: Are you on a quest?
Emrys: No. Are you?
The_Prince: I heard that a rebel found the Golden Egg.
Emrys: She did. News travels quickly. That wasn’t so long ago.
The_Prince: You saw her?
Emrys: Yes. I found the Golden Egg. She took it from me. It was LeFay.
The_Prince: Figures.
Merlin’s lip twitches up against his will at the sudden drop of character at the mention of Morgana.
Emrys: Right? She’s nothing but trouble.
The_Prince: I know first-hand.
Emrys: Do you know her in real life?
The_Prince: Yes. She’s my sister.
Emrys: Oh! She just told me about your recent indoctrination into the MMORPG world.
The_Prince: Yes, well. She thought it would be good for me to be able to escape reality from time to time?
Emrys: What’s so bad about reality?
The_Prince: I didn’t say there was anything bad about it.
Emrys: Oh. You just implied that.
The_Prince: It’s none of your business either way.
Merlin’s face heats up. How incredibly rude! He hasn’t been spoken to online in this way since he left the Legend of Zelda message boards. And he certainly hasn’t experienced this level of disrespect in Kilgarrah Online.
Emrys: That was uncalled-for. I was just trying to be friendly. You’re a bit of an arse, you know that?
The_Prince: Excuse me?
Emrys: I know the internet makes it easy to be mean to people you don’t know, but there’s kind of a limit, and generally in this game, people are nice to each other.
The_Prince: Don’t SCOLD me!
Emrys: Then don’t act like such a prat. I’ll let you be on your way now, sire. I have things to do.
Emrys bows to him in a way even Merlin finds rather sarcastic, and then he logs off the game, too agitated by the interaction to want to play any longer. He pushes away from his desk and pads into his kitchen to put the kettle on. His face still feels hot, and his shoulders twitch with unreleased energy. The nerve of him!
It’s only another ten minutes before his phone rings. When he picks up, Morgana immediately begins to yell. Shriek, more like.
“You told my brother off online?”
Merlin sighs. “He deserved it. He was being a total twat. Seriously, who responds to a curious, if polite and cursory question, with ‘It’s none of your business’? Especially when that person started the conversation? It was completely ridiculous. Not even you have ever been that rude to me.”
“Gee, thanks,” Morgana intones dryly. “He phoned me seething about how one of my ‘stupid, online friends’ got his knickers in a twist about absolutely nothing.”
“You sound way too gleeful about this.”
“Oh, it’s my favorite thing when my friends annoy him. He asks for it so easily. You know, he and Morgause almost came to blows once over the last biscuit our cook made. Arthur backed down because he said he doesn’t hit girls. I really think it was because he was afraid he would lose.”
Merlin barks his laughter. “You know, someday, you’re going to actually have to let me meet Morgause. I’m beginning to think she doesn’t exist.”
“She’ll intimidate you.”
“I’m not easily intimidated.”
“Probably true; I didn’t scare you in the least. Anyway, I just wanted to phone to let you know that you’re my hero and I would like to take you for I-love-you-forever-for-pissing-off-my-brother drinks this weekend. Bring Gwen. I love her face.”
“I know you do.” Merlin smiles, takes the kettle off the burner when it starts to wail. “It’s a date. I’ll see you soon.”
Morgana makes a very exaggerated kissing sound into the receiver in lieu of a goodbye and hangs up.
***
Morgana lets Merlin meet Morgause that weekend.
She does intimidate him. Morgana laughs for ten minutes at the expression on his face.
***
Merlin sometimes leaves Emrys to farm while he’s working on other things, like coursework or cleaning his apartment or doing his laundry. He doesn’t particularly care for the activities one does in order to level up. They’re all rather dull, aside from battling, and doing battle never quite gives him as many as he thinks it should. It takes the most effort, in his opinion.
So Emrys farms, and Merlin sits at his desk pulling various frustrated faces at his physics textbook.
The speakers blip. He looks up, rolls his eyes when a dialogue box pops up.
The_Prince: Hello?
Emrys: What do you want?
The_Prince: I thought you might need help.
Emrys: All I’m doing is searching the forests for items. I’m sure I can manage.
The_Prince: Right. What I meant was, I wanted to apologize.
Emrys: Oh?
The_Prince: Yes. You were just trying to be friendly. I’m new to this internet stuff. It’s difficult for me to discern what is friendly from what is overstepping boundaries.
Emrys: Well, I did ask a bit of a personal question. But I thought maybe you wanted to talk about it, since you brought it up.
The_Prince: Yes, the internet etiquette problem.
Emrys: LOL. It’s hard to solve sometimes. But I appreciate the apology. And if you’d like, I could use some help.
The_Prince: I’m actually on a quest.
Well, that got Merlin’s attention straight away.
Emrys: Oh?
The_Prince: More of a bounty hunt.
Emrys: For whom?
The_Prince: TheRenegade_Priestess.
Emrys: LOL!!! What’s she done to become an official bounty hunt?!
The_Prince: Attacked the Dragon King. My sister’s rather pleased about it.
Emrys: Oh, Morgause. Scariest woman on the internet.
The_Prince: Indeed. Care to join me?
Emrys: Definitely. I hope she’s not as scary when I have company. She kicked my arse last week.
The_Prince: I would have liked to see that.
Emrys: Hey! She’s been playing longer! She’s leveled up way beyond me!
The_Prince: Uh-huh. Keep telling yourself that.
Merlin only realizes he’s smiling when his cheeks begin to ache. He covers his mouth with his hand, as if someone’s around to witness it.
***
Farming is much more fun when two characters are doing it together, Merlin decides. In fact, everything’s more fun with company, and The_Prince has become near constant company for Emrys over the past week. He appreciates having a knight as a companion. A sorcerer can only do so much in hand-to-hand combat, particularly if his opponent gets too close to him.
It gives The_Prince license to laugh at him, but he’s alright with that.
Emrys: It’s not funny.
The_Prince: He turned you into a toad, Emrys. An actual toad. I can’t believe that actually happened.
Emrys: >=( You’re supposed to be on my side.
The_Prince: Hey, I protected your little toad-like self until you were able to become human again.
Emrys: True. I’m forever indebted to you.
The_Prince: Indeed. Hey, he dropped a dress! You should wear it.
Emrys: What?!
The_Prince: Well, you are the damsel-in-distress of the pair of us, aren’t you?
Emrys: You’re so very pleasant.
The_Prince: You like it.
Merlin does.
***
Merlin winces when the rebel sorceress collapses, all too realistically, on the screen after a precise blow from Arthur’s sword.
Emrys: A bit harsh there, don’t you think? She’s going to have to go all the way back to her safe point now.
The_Prince: She was a rebel. Who cares?
Emrys: You do know this is only a game, right? You’re not ACTUALLY a knight fighting for the good of the kingdom.
The_Prince: God, will you shut up? Your impeccable moral code doesn’t have to apply to every little thing in the game. We’re not all as perfect as you, okay? Some of us play to blow off steam.
Emrys is offline.
Merlin stares at the words on the screen for a long time, once he’s safe, beyond reach of his internet friend now that he’s signed out of the game. He knows it wasn’t the most mature way to react, but the words wound him in places that he can’t really afford to think about right now.
He pushes his chair back from the desk, pads into the kitchen to make himself a sandwich and a cup of tea, and takes his time in consuming both. It’s more than half an hour later that he returns to his computer, sagging into it. He takes a deep breath before clicking to sign back into the game.
3 New Private Message from The_Prince
“Great,” Merlin murmurs, clicking the link.
The first:
Very mature, Emrys. The very first time someone tells you that you’re not absolutely perfect and that you can be so fucking annoying sometimes, you run off and hide like a little girl, instead of standing up for yourself or even just admitting that maybe you’re not the completely amazing person you seem to think you are. God, grow up.
The second:
I can’t believe you’ve been gone this long. I was sure you’d just gone off to come up with something witty and scathing to say in response. Seriously, just come back so we can get on with the game, alright? You don’t even have to talk to me if you don’t want to.
The third:
Look, Emrys, I’m sorry, alright? I didn’t really mean what I said. I think you’re very pleasant company, and I enjoy having you as a playing companion. You’re really not as self-righteous or anything as I made you out. In fact, the way you stick up for everybody, in and out of the game, is a bit endearing.
And, I know this doesn’t really excuse it or make up for it, but I’m having a very shit day. My father is threatening to give my promised position in his company to this underling who doesn’t deserve it because my marks aren’t just perfect enough, and he’s just so difficult sometimes, and I feel like I’m never going to be good enough, and can you maybe understand why Morgana thinks that I may need an escape from reality from time to time?
Just come back, please.
Merlin checks to see if The_Prince is where he left him. He is, standing very still, and Merlin realizes with a burst of affection that he realized he’s online and is patiently waiting for him to break the silence.
Emrys: Your father sounds difficult. I’m sorry.
The_Prince: It’s no excuse. Fathers are like that.
Emrys: I wouldn’t know.
The_Prince: What do you mean?
Emrys: Mine left when I was four. Barely remember him.
The_Prince: Oh. I’m sorry.
Emrys: It’s alright. My mother used to romanticize him for me, that he was a hero, running about saving the world. But I know that he was just not interested in being a part of my life.
The_Prince: Then he must have been a complete idiot.
Merlin doesn’t think any cruel thing The_Prince could say would ever be bad enough for him to forget those words.
***
“Merlin!” Gwen waves at him, grinning. “Over here. I got you a drink.”
Merlin weaves his way through the pub and toward the booth. He likes this particular place; the music is never too loud, and he doesn’t ever feel as if he’s suffocating. He plops down beside her and drops his head on her shoulder. “You are a lifesaver and I love you.”
Gwen laughs softly. “Long week?”
“You have no idea. Four exams, Gwen. Four. And I should be home now writing an essay that’s due on Tuesday.” He groans. “I’m not looking forward to life right now. So let’s get drunk and not remember any of it for a while.”
Gwen presses a pint into his hands. “I was wondering why I hadn’t seen you online recently.”
“Yes, well, it’s somewhat difficult to multitask, especially since every time I try to log on to just farm or idle, some rebel drags me into a battle.” He sighs, drops his head onto the sticky tabletop. “Life is so hard!”
“Poor baby.” Gwen pets his hair. “Can’t talk to your knight-in-shining-armor when there’s coursework to be done, hm?”
“Don’t call him that.” Merlin bats at her. “He’s just a nice person.”
“Not what you said the first time you spoke,” Gwen murmurs. “He’s coming tonight, you know.”
He sits up abruptly. “What?”
She grins broadly. “Morgana’s bringing him. I guess he’s going through a difficult break-up, and she wanted to bring him out to cheer him up.” She pauses. “She’s kinder than she likes to let on, you know. She wants everyone to be happy.”
Merlin is barely listening, his hands and chest and stomach going fluttery. “Do you think he’ll like me in person?” he blurts out. “I mean, it’s one thing to get along well when we’re talking online, but in person, everything is different? What if he thinks I’m obnoxious? What if he’s really a huge dick? What should I do? Gwen.”
“Oh, my god, calm down.” Gwen rubs his back, laughing. “It’ll be fine, yeah? Just be yourself. I don’t know a single person that doesn’t completely love you.”
Merlin grimaces, because he can think of a few, but decides that his energy will be better-spent in drinking as much as possible before the rest of the group arrives. By the time Morgana’s loud presence carries the rest of their friends into the pub, his face is warm, and his muscles are loose. His tongue is especially so, and he asks Gwen for the third time if he seems to be slurring his words.
She just pats his arm and doesn’t respond, which doesn’t exactly comfort him.
“Hello, darlings.” Morgana drops a kiss on Merlin’s head, reaches over to squeeze Gwen’s hand as she slides into the booth across from him. “You both know Morgause and Mordred. And this is my brother, Arthur! Arthur, this is Gwen, and Merlin.”
Arthur is tall, and built, and has a slightly-crooked football-injury nose and very English teeth. He also has blonde hair and blue eyes, and Merlin is pretty much convinced he’s the most perfect thing ever. He waves a little awkwardly. “Hi, Arthur. Nice to finally meet you.”
Arthur smiles at him, and somehow it seems relieved. “Thanks. Morgana refuses to tell me about any of her friends, so I wish I knew more about you than that your name is Merlin.”
Merlin’s heart sinks and he can practically read the confused expletives typing themselves across the front of Gwen’s brain. Then he notices the glee in Morgana’s smile and he clears his throat. “Hey, Morgana, will you come with me to the bar? We can get everyone’s drinks.”
“Of course, my darling.” Morgana rises far too gracefully, and when Merlin stands beside her, she links her arm through his and leads the way.
Merlin clears his throat. “So is there a reason that Arthur seems to have absolutely no idea who I am?”
She bursts into giggles. “That’s because he doesn’t! When he called me demanding to know which of my friends was so rude to him online, I refused to give him your name.”
“Why?”
“It amuses me.”
Merlin groans, drops his face into his hands. “Why are you ruining my life?”
Morgana giggles. “Well, you get a fresh start with him now. A chance to see if you really like each other, and you’re not just trying very hard to like each other because you like each other online.”
“You’re making this harder than it needs to be. I know it’s him.”
“And yet, you didn’t tell him who you were,” Morgana points out.
His face heats up. “Well, it’s - I mean, I don’t want everyone to know this is our first time meeting in person but that we’ve been talking a lot online,” he murmurs. “That would embarrass him.”
Morgana lays down a tip for the bartender and lifts her martini to her lips, studying him carefully with her piercing eyes. “You know him very well,” she says quietly, after setting it down again, turning it in a slow circle on the bar. “Better than I expected.”
Merlin doesn’t have anything to say to that. Morgana seems to understand.
***
Arthur keeps smiling at Merlin, and the only effect this has is to turn him into a little ball of anxiety. They’ve retired to Morgana’s incredibly spacious flat, where he’s tipped himself from having a bit to drink to having a bit too much, and he sinks into the sofa, feeling as if he’s become a part of it.
Arthur plops suddenly down beside him, and Merlin does his best to glare at him. “Why do you keep staring at me?”
“Because you’re drunk,” he says simply. “Very drunk. And you’re a bit flushed, just through here.” He uses his pinky to trace across Merlin’s cheekbones, over the ridge of his nose. “It’s a bit endearing.”
Merlin looks around at their friends, bewildered, and finds them caught in their own conversations. No one’s paying them any attention. He turns his eyes back to Arthur’s face. “Are you chatting me up?” He all but shrieks the words.
Arthur shifts a bit, suddenly uncomfortable. “Well, yeah, I suppose. You’ve been going all shy whenever I spoke to you or anything at the pub, so I thought maybe you fancied me.”
“Well, I - um.” Merlin’s face is far too warm. “It’s not that - you’re very attractive.”
Arthur’s worry slides into an expression of delight. “So come out with me.”
“Now?”
“Obviously not,” Arthur says impatiently, scoffing. “Tomorrow. Next weekend. Sometime soon. What do you think?”
I should tell him, Merlin thinks so loudly that he wonders how Arthur doesn’t hear him. I should tell him I’m Emrys.
He doesn’t though. Instead, he smiles at him, and he nods. “Yes. Alright. Let’s go out.”
Merlin finds that he’s rather fond of that smile.
***
Arthur laughs too loudly. He also talks too much and makes little gulping noises when he drinks. He taps his fork on his plate when he’s speaking and seems to be able to say hello to everyone in the restaurant, but usually forgets to introduce Merlin to anybody.
Merlin is utterly charmed, and he hates that.
He also hates that he knows so many things about Arthur that Arthur has no idea he knows about him. It makes him feel ashamed, guilty, like he’s cheating. He’s on a date with a man he’s only just met, but that he’s known for months. And it’s unfair.
“You’ve been very quiet, Merlin,” Arthur picks at the remainder of his potatoes, pushes them toward the edge of his plate like he’s decided he’s not going to finish eating them. “Are you having a good time?”
Damn it; now he thinks I don’t like him. “Oh! Yeah, of course. Yes. I’m just nervous. It’s been a long time since anyone asked me on a date.” He literally bites his tongue, and his eyes water with the pain. “I really shouldn’t have said that. It makes me sound pathetic. And like I only said yes to you because I didn’t have any other prospects.”
“Over-thinking,” Arthur says slowly, admonishing him. “It’s alright. It’s difficult not to be a little nervous when you’re on a date with someone as good-looking as me.” He wriggles his eyebrows, then grins when Merlin laughs. “I want to get to know you, so you need to talk. Tell me about yourself.”
“What do you want to know?”
“Anything. Everything. What do you do for fun?”
“Um.” Merlin runs his tongue along his bottom lip, anxiety bubbling up in his chest. “I like video games.”
Arthur lights up. “Me too! Well, kind of. Are you on Kilgarrah Online? I think most of Morgana’s friends are; I’m under the impression she’s made most of her friends there.” He chuckles, shakes his head.
Merlin swallows hard. “Well. I mean, is there something wrong with making friends online?”
“No. It’s just weird. It seems lazy, you know? Like it’s too much effort to really get to know someone in real life.”
“You haven’t made any friends playing Kilgarrah?”
Arthur shrugs, his lips drawing up thoughtfully. “No. Not really. There’s this guy I talk to sometimes, but it’s mostly that he’s a good playmate.”
“I see,” Merlin says quietly. “Could you see yourself being his friend?”
“I don’t know. Probably, if we’d met under the right circumstances.” He pauses. “I think I insulted you. You did meet Morgana through the game, didn’t you? I didn’t mean - I mean, it’s not the way I make friends, but I have no room to judge someone else for how they begin relationships. I’m sorry.”
Merlin manages a small smile. “It’s fine.”
***
He doesn’t sign online anymore. He doesn’t know how he can talk to Arthur again.
***
Morgana perches on Merlin’s window seat and pushes his window open so she can light a cigarette without his scolding. The ember on the end burns bright when she sucks in a breath, and she breathes it out into the Saturday afternoon air. Merlin thinks about telling her that even if she smokes that way, he still has to air out the flat after she leaves, but is much too tired to try.
“Arthur’s very anxious that you haven’t called him yet,” she says casually. “It’s been two weeks, after all.”
Merlin closes the physics book he was only pretending to read anyway. “I’m just not interested, alright? If he hasn’t figured that out by now, maybe it’s a good thing I haven’t spoken to him again, because he’s not as clever as I thought he was.”
Morgana snorts, pressing the heel of her hand against her mouth. “You thought he was clever?”
Merlin shrugs. “A bit, yeah. What of it?”
“Merlin.” She sighs, moves over to sit beside him. “I’m just taking the piss. It’s not as if - I mean, if you really like him, what does it matter what stupid thing he said?”
“He told me that he didn’t like me, Morgana,” Merlin says quietly. “Just because it was the online me, and not the real-life me, it doesn’t make it any less hurtful. Especially when - I mean, he’s important to me. He has been since we met, pretty much. We’ve - I’ve told him things I’ve never really talked about with anyone, pretty much. We’ve - I’ve told him things I’ve never really talked about with anyone.”
“So you feel a little like he betrayed you?” Morgana suggests. “Like he wasn’t worth your trust and confidence?”
“Yeah. I’m just - I like him, Morgana. I just can’t have him feel that way about this whole section of me that I gave to him, just because of the way it was given. It’s not fair.”
She rubs his back, soothingly, and doesn’t speak. Merlin is grateful.
***
Merlin signs on to Kilgarrah Online once, in the middle of the night on a Tuesday. He knows Arthur has an early lecture, so he takes the opportunity to get a much-needed (and -deserved) game fix.
He finds a message, sent almost a week ago.
Hi, Emrys. I haven’t seen you online recently. I’ve missed our chats a bit. I hope your coursework isn’t just kicking your arse or something. It happens to me sometimes, as you know. Anyway, I suppose I just miss you. I hope to hear from you soon.
Merlin isn’t sure whether to seethe at the message or to just feel confused. Arthur seems legitimately lonely, perhaps sad, and he just doesn’t understand. Why did he bother with all that, if he doesn’t even consider Merlin a friend?
He’s typing out a message in response before he can think about it.
I’m not especially fond of you right now. I mean. I was pretty fond of you before, thought we could be friends, but I guess you don’t DO online friendships? I feel pretty stupid, to be honest. A right idiot, because I was sure that we were actually developing some kind of friendship here. And I’m sure that was my fault, after you reacted the way you did, the first time we spoke. But you didn’t have to lead it all on quite like you did. We could’ve just played together and that would be that. I’m sorry that I was so presumptuous as to assume we were friends.
Merlin.
He rolls his chair back from his computer, propels himself to his feet, and signs out, shuts down his computer. He goes to the bathroom, cleans his teeth, and all but dives into his bed afterwards. Only then does he remember that he signed the message with his real name.
***
Merlin wakes in the morning to some fairly ferocious knocking at his door. There are two reasons this pisses him off. The first is that Wednesdays are his late days. He has no reason to be awake before two o’clock in the afternoon. So being woken at nine am isn’t his favorite thing. The second reason is that, despite ignoring the knocking for several long minutes, his eyes closed tightly like that will make it stop, the knocking doesn’t stop. It persists for ten minutes.
He finally throws back his duvet and stomps barefoot across his flat, wrenching the door open without bothering to look through the peephole to see who it is.
“Oh.”
Arthur looks rather frazzled, or as frazzled as someone like Arthur can look. The collar of his shirt is half-popped, and his coat is buttoned wrong, like he flew out of his lecture to get here and didn’t bother with the less important things.
Merlin’s shoulders got tight at the sight of him, and he folds his arms across his chest.
“No, no, don’t do that.” Arthur steps forward, reaches out to physically unfold his arms. “Don’t shut me out. Please. Just - hear me out. I know I messed up, alright? I know that now. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”
Merlin looks down at the floor, feeling trapped, caught by Arthur’s fingers around his wrists. “I don’t know what you want from me anymore,” he says quietly. “I was - I liked you so much, Arthur. Both ways that I knew you. You were so - I just don’t know what you want from me.”
“I just want all of you, alright? I want to get to know you, and I want to try to make this work, and I want to explain to you why I said what I did.” He steps back, takes a breath, runs a hand through his hair. It stands on end. “May I come in? I feel like an idiot talking in the corridor.”
“Now you know how I felt,” Merlin murmurs hotly, but steps aside to let him in anyway.
Arthur doesn’t even look around. He just moves to the couch and falls heavily on it. Merlin almost feels sorry for him. “Look,” he begins quietly. “I’m - When I got your message this morning, while I was in lecture, I just - I had no idea it was you, Merlin. Why didn’t you tell me?”
“You didn’t give me a chance.” Merlin walks slowly, his arms folded again, and sits in the chair across from him. He feels exposed, sitting in his pajamas, barefoot, and wishes he had his dressing gown. “You immediately started in on how online relationships are stupid or not-real or something. I was too embarrassed after that.”
“I didn’t really mean it, you know,” Arthur murmurs. “I was trying so hard to impress you, and I didn’t want you to think I was one of those guys who spends his whole life online and doesn’t have any real friends.”
“Arthur, just because we met online doesn’t mean we weren’t real friends. I - I’ve always wanted to trust someone like I trusted you. I’ve never felt comfortable enough with people to tell them the things I shared with you.” He swallows. “When my dad walked out on us, I didn’t think anyone was worth trusting anymore. I thought it was all just a waste of time. And I thought - when you opened up to me like you did, I thought maybe you could relate in some way, that you were different. I felt safe.”
Arthur swallows. “Merlin, I…”
He holds a hand up. “You made me feel like I didn’t matter. How can you fix that?”
Arthur presses his hands together, takes a deep breath. “I went from telling you to mind your own business to telling you about my father,” he laughs softly. “I don’t talk about that. I just internalize his expectations and try my hardest to both live up to them and subvert them. And within a week, I was spilling my heart out. That was terrifying, and wonderful, and then I met you in person and you were - god, Merlin, you have to know how gorgeous you are - and I had no idea - and if I had, I would’ve - Merlin, you’re perfect.”
Merlin laughs at that, shakes his head. “Highly doubtful.”
“You are though,” Arthur insists. “You are. Just please give me another chance, alright?”
Merlin is silent for a while. “One more,” he decides.
***
The_Prince: You’re sabotaging me on purpose, aren’t you? You don’t WANT me to have the unicorn horn!
Emrys: I have no idea what you’re talking about.
The_Prince: Oh, I get it. You don’t want me to kill the unicorn.
Emrys: I never said that.
The_Prince: You’re ridiculous.
Emrys: As are you. We’re sitting beside each other, you know.
The_Prince: I’m aware.
Emrys: So why are we messaging like this?
The_Prince: Good point.
Merlin giggles when Arthur snags his laptop from his hands and pulls him in to kiss him. “I take it you’re not still angry about the unicorn.”
“Not in the least,” Arthur confirms, nuzzles in at his neck. “Well, perhaps a bit. You could make it up to me.”
“No! You already said you weren’t angry at all! You can’t take it back.” Merlin howls with laughter when Arthur starts tickling him. “Alright, alright, no more, no more, I give.” He runs his fingers through his hair, humming with happiness. “I will get you another unicorn.”
“It’s alright.” Arthur presses his face into Merlin’s stomach, rubbing his hand down his leg. “I’ll live without one.”
A small alarm sounds on both of their computers, and they freeze. “I bet it’s Morgana,” Merlin whispers loudly.
Arthur nods seriously. “We’d better stop her.”
They dive back into the game.
Fandom: Merlin
Art: Masterpost here by nane0
Pairing: Arthur/Merlin
Rating: PG
Word Count: 7,032
Summary: Arthur and Merlin meet playing an MMORPG. And then meet again in real life. And then things go wrong.
Written for the merlinreversebb.
FutureQueen: “Merlin.”
Emrys: “Don’t start with me, Gwen. Honestly.”
FutureQueen: “It’s two in the morning.”
Emrys: “Yes.”
FutureQueen: “And you’re still awake.”
Emrys: “As are you.”
FutureQueen: “And playing Kilgarrah Online.”
Emrys: “As are you!”
FutureQueen: “I don’t have the most important exam of my term tomorrow. But you do. And you should at the very least be studying. Or sleeping!”
Emrys: “Gwen. It’s fine. It’s a history exam. It’s not as if I was actually going to study for it anyway.”
FutureQueen: “Then you should be sleeping.”
Emrys: “You’re just trying to get me offline.”
FutureQueen: “Yes. Because I think you’re addicted to this game.”
Emrys: “Oh, hello, Ms. Pot. I’m Mr. Kettle.”
FutureQueen: “I don’t spend ten hours of my day playing.”
Emrys: “Neither do I!”
FutureQueen: “You do! I counted today!”
Emrys: “You’re not my mother. Now piss off. I have to find the magic sword.”
FutureQueen is offline.
Merlin sighs. Having Gwen angry at him is not his favorite thing. But then again, neither is having Gwen act as his surrogate mother. He has no doubt that on some level, she’s probably right, but he also has no idea why she thinks it’s such a problem. He does it schoolwork. He goes to class. He works regularly at the bookshop on High Street. He even goes out for a pint or three on Student Nights.
Addiction implies that he is forgoing other important things in his life to satisfy his need. He isn’t. He’s just supplementing his life with an enjoyable online one. And there is absolutely nothing wrong with that.
***
Gwen doesn’t speak to him for two days, which isn’t even a record. It is impressive though, since they share most of their classes and live in the same flat. She has a skill at keeping her nose turned up at him in a way that Merlin can only dream of replicating.
She gives in on Saturday morning, when he presents her upon waking with a full English breakfast. Her nose makes a graceful landing and the smile that replaces it is one of satisfaction. Gwen has always rather liked it when Merlin admits he was wrong. Merlin doesn’t really feel like he was, but being nasty to Gwen isn’t exactly something he’s proud of.
“I know I mother-hen sometimes, Merlin,” is the closest she’ll get to giving him an apology in response. “But I just worry about you. I don’t want you to get sucked into it. You remember how Will was when he discovered World of Warcraft.”
“I know, but Will doesn’t exactly have a lot going for him,” Merlin points out, dipping his sausage in syrup, as he’s been wont to do since he was a child. “I mean, he still lives at home with his mum and has no ambition whatsoever. I can only imagine he’s bored out of his skull.”
“Except for WoW.”
“Except for WoW.” Merlin smiles, takes a bite out of the sausage. “But I’m not like that. I have a life, and lots of friends and a job. I can’t afford to let myself get sucked into a world of gaming.”
Gwen sips her tea, quiet for a long time. Merlin can practically hear the soft murmur and rush of her thoughts. “So why do you do what you did yesterday?” she asks quietly. “You have all of these things going for you. All of these people and things in your life. How can you spend ten hours playing and get agitated and defensive when someone tells you that maybe you should take a break?”
Merlin feels a wash of guilt at her words. He didn’t realize that he had actually hurt Gwen’s feelings. “I don’t know,” he admits. “But I’ll try to work on that. And I’ll try to acknowledge that if you’re telling me to stop playing, or suggesting that I stop playing, that there’s probably a good reason for it. And I’m sorry.”
Gwen smiles gently at him, reaches across the table to squeeze his wrist. “Thank you, Merlin.”
***
Merlin has been gaming since he was four years old.
It was never particularly worrisome for his mother; he liked to take a Gameboy with him from time to time when they ran errands together, and he was fond of Super Mario. As he grew older, and gaming systems became more advanced, more involved, he became more fascinated by the way they worked and the things that could be done within the realms of their use.
He has over a thousand games. He doesn’t play most of them anymore; many he’s played through and beaten several times, usually with other people, but often alone. He also can’t stand the idea of getting rid of any of them, because in ways he can’t explain (and hasn’t tried, because he can only imagine the responses he’d get), they’ve become his friends as much as any human being has.
He didn’t venture into the infinite and widespread world of massive multiplayer online role-playing games until he was seventeen and applying to universities. It was Will’s fault completely. He maintains that to this day.
“Seriously, Merlin, you can’t knock World of Warcraft until you try it,” he insisted, with that same big-eyed, earnest expression he often used when he felt Merlin was just refusing to be reasoned with. “And I want to play with you. It’s always more fun if you have a friend.”
“I’m sorry, Will, but I just can’t afford the subscription.” Merlin shook his head, speaking quietly. He was forever trying to keep Will from shouting in the library where he worked; he couldn’t understand why no conversations between them could wait until they were at home. They lived across the street from each other, for god’s sake. “It does sound fun though. Maybe I can ask for a subscription for my birthday.”
Will gawked at him, as if this was the most offensive suggestion anyone had ever made. “Your birthday is seven months away!” he practically shouted. “Seven months! That’s almost a year.”
“It’s closer to half a year,” Merlin corrected in a hiss. “And for god’s sake, will you stop shouting? I’m at work!”
“Alright, alright.” Will raised conciliatory hands. “Just promise me you’ll give it a try. They do free trial subscriptions.”
Merlin rolled his eyes. “Alright, fine. Fine. I will try it out.”
***
And he did mean to, until he realized that to create an account, even for a free trial, he had to enter his credit card information, and he didn’t have credit card information to enter. He certainly wasn’t going to ask his mother to let him use hers. She only used it if she needed to buy groceries before she was paid, and he wasn’t going to ask her to use it for something frivolous, not when credit card debt could sink them.
So he did the next best thing. He Googled free online role-playing games, and after a few aborted attempts and several rather mean online people who continued to refer to him as a “n00b,” he found Kilgarrah Online.
The game itself was fairly simple, as Merlin assumed most were. The players were under the command of a Dragon King named Kilgarrah. One could choose to be a contented subject of this king, or could choose to be a rebel against him, someone who was actively trying to bring down the monarchy. The game-play, the people and characters one teamed up with and fought against, were all based on this decision.
Naturally, Merlin decided he was content to serve the Dragon King. He supposed that later in the game, if he found this impractical or unsavory, he could change his status. Gwen scolded him about the amount of thought he put into the decision. “It doesn’t matter, Merlin. Either way, you have to go on quests and have battles.”
Merlin vehemently insisted that it was a matter of ideology, and the people he plays with better have the same moral code as he does. (They don’t, most of the time, but it makes him feel better to think they might.)
If he’s honest with himself, he’s made more friends while playing the game than he did during all of his years of primary and secondary school. He has Will and Gwen, and Will slightly less, now that he’s been sucked into WoW, but for the most part, the people he knows, he knows virtually. And he’s alright with that. They’re lovely people.
One of those lovely people pops up on his screen suddenly, in the form of a sorceress.
Merlin grins and types out a greeting to her.
Emrys: Morgana! You haven’t been on in ages.
LeFay: I know; it’s been far too long. My photography lecturers are trying to kill me. I have two exhibits at the end of this month.
Emrys: That sounds horrible. Can they do that?
LeFay: Apparently. Don’t you have exams soon?
Emrys: Why is everyone so concerned about my coursework?
LeFay: There is literally no one less concerned than I am, believe me. Gwen been mothering again?
Emrys: YES. Do you think I spend too much time playing?
LeFay: Not sure. My brother has now become completely obsessed. I don’t think anyone plays quite as much as he does. We have a lecture together; I swear he was logged on and playing while there. I heard him muttering to himself.
Emrys: It’s people like that who give the rest of us gamers a bad name.
LeFay: Definitely. Are you doing the Golden Egg quest?
Emrys: Yes, I’m on it now. Care to join me?
LeFay: You’d work with a rebel?!
Emrys: Only one so talented as you. ;) If you like, we can battle for the Egg once we’ve found it.
LeFay: We’ll see how much I like you then. Lead the way, sorcerer.
***
The worst time to play is when none of his friends are playing.
For Merlin, gaming is like any activity; it’s generally more fun to partake in a group, or at least a pair. He wouldn’t play football alone because he wouldn’t have anyone to kick the ball to, and he wouldn’t see a film alone, because there would be no one to share his running commentaries with (and no one to tell him to shut up). Gaming without a friend is a lonely experience. There are all sorts of highs and lows, triumphs and failures, that need moral support, and without anyone to give it, it all seems rather pointless.
LeFay abandoned him (with Egg in tow) four hours ago, and Emrys is wandering about a virtual countryside in search of items. He’s waiting to come across someone who might have an interesting quest for him to join in on, or who might just be interesting to talk to.
In the meantime, he’s loading his pockets with coins and clothing and weapons. Some of it, he’ll sell when he gets back to the kingdom. Most of it he’ll keep. Hoarding is the best way to keep afloat in the game. The more you have, the more likely you have something someone else needs, and when someone needs something, there’s any number of things they’ll do to have it.
A small blip sound alerts him that another character has appeared in the area, and he clicks the icon in the corner for information about him.
“A knight,” Merlin murmurs to himself, wrinkles his nose. He’s never been fond of knights. They always think that brawn is worth more than brains. Most of the time, Emrys is rather good at proving them wrong. He’s outwitted most of them without even needing to cast any spells.
A dialogue box pops up.
The_Prince: Are you loyal to the King?
Emrys: Yes. Are you?
The_Prince: I’ve dedicated my life to his service.
Emrys: Kind of you.
The_Prince: Are you on a quest?
Emrys: No. Are you?
The_Prince: I heard that a rebel found the Golden Egg.
Emrys: She did. News travels quickly. That wasn’t so long ago.
The_Prince: You saw her?
Emrys: Yes. I found the Golden Egg. She took it from me. It was LeFay.
The_Prince: Figures.
Merlin’s lip twitches up against his will at the sudden drop of character at the mention of Morgana.
Emrys: Right? She’s nothing but trouble.
The_Prince: I know first-hand.
Emrys: Do you know her in real life?
The_Prince: Yes. She’s my sister.
Emrys: Oh! She just told me about your recent indoctrination into the MMORPG world.
The_Prince: Yes, well. She thought it would be good for me to be able to escape reality from time to time?
Emrys: What’s so bad about reality?
The_Prince: I didn’t say there was anything bad about it.
Emrys: Oh. You just implied that.
The_Prince: It’s none of your business either way.
Merlin’s face heats up. How incredibly rude! He hasn’t been spoken to online in this way since he left the Legend of Zelda message boards. And he certainly hasn’t experienced this level of disrespect in Kilgarrah Online.
Emrys: That was uncalled-for. I was just trying to be friendly. You’re a bit of an arse, you know that?
The_Prince: Excuse me?
Emrys: I know the internet makes it easy to be mean to people you don’t know, but there’s kind of a limit, and generally in this game, people are nice to each other.
The_Prince: Don’t SCOLD me!
Emrys: Then don’t act like such a prat. I’ll let you be on your way now, sire. I have things to do.
Emrys bows to him in a way even Merlin finds rather sarcastic, and then he logs off the game, too agitated by the interaction to want to play any longer. He pushes away from his desk and pads into his kitchen to put the kettle on. His face still feels hot, and his shoulders twitch with unreleased energy. The nerve of him!
It’s only another ten minutes before his phone rings. When he picks up, Morgana immediately begins to yell. Shriek, more like.
“You told my brother off online?”
Merlin sighs. “He deserved it. He was being a total twat. Seriously, who responds to a curious, if polite and cursory question, with ‘It’s none of your business’? Especially when that person started the conversation? It was completely ridiculous. Not even you have ever been that rude to me.”
“Gee, thanks,” Morgana intones dryly. “He phoned me seething about how one of my ‘stupid, online friends’ got his knickers in a twist about absolutely nothing.”
“You sound way too gleeful about this.”
“Oh, it’s my favorite thing when my friends annoy him. He asks for it so easily. You know, he and Morgause almost came to blows once over the last biscuit our cook made. Arthur backed down because he said he doesn’t hit girls. I really think it was because he was afraid he would lose.”
Merlin barks his laughter. “You know, someday, you’re going to actually have to let me meet Morgause. I’m beginning to think she doesn’t exist.”
“She’ll intimidate you.”
“I’m not easily intimidated.”
“Probably true; I didn’t scare you in the least. Anyway, I just wanted to phone to let you know that you’re my hero and I would like to take you for I-love-you-forever-for-pissing-off-my-brother drinks this weekend. Bring Gwen. I love her face.”
“I know you do.” Merlin smiles, takes the kettle off the burner when it starts to wail. “It’s a date. I’ll see you soon.”
Morgana makes a very exaggerated kissing sound into the receiver in lieu of a goodbye and hangs up.
***
Morgana lets Merlin meet Morgause that weekend.
She does intimidate him. Morgana laughs for ten minutes at the expression on his face.
***
Merlin sometimes leaves Emrys to farm while he’s working on other things, like coursework or cleaning his apartment or doing his laundry. He doesn’t particularly care for the activities one does in order to level up. They’re all rather dull, aside from battling, and doing battle never quite gives him as many as he thinks it should. It takes the most effort, in his opinion.
So Emrys farms, and Merlin sits at his desk pulling various frustrated faces at his physics textbook.
The speakers blip. He looks up, rolls his eyes when a dialogue box pops up.
The_Prince: Hello?
Emrys: What do you want?
The_Prince: I thought you might need help.
Emrys: All I’m doing is searching the forests for items. I’m sure I can manage.
The_Prince: Right. What I meant was, I wanted to apologize.
Emrys: Oh?
The_Prince: Yes. You were just trying to be friendly. I’m new to this internet stuff. It’s difficult for me to discern what is friendly from what is overstepping boundaries.
Emrys: Well, I did ask a bit of a personal question. But I thought maybe you wanted to talk about it, since you brought it up.
The_Prince: Yes, the internet etiquette problem.
Emrys: LOL. It’s hard to solve sometimes. But I appreciate the apology. And if you’d like, I could use some help.
The_Prince: I’m actually on a quest.
Well, that got Merlin’s attention straight away.
Emrys: Oh?
The_Prince: More of a bounty hunt.
Emrys: For whom?
The_Prince: TheRenegade_Priestess.
Emrys: LOL!!! What’s she done to become an official bounty hunt?!
The_Prince: Attacked the Dragon King. My sister’s rather pleased about it.
Emrys: Oh, Morgause. Scariest woman on the internet.
The_Prince: Indeed. Care to join me?
Emrys: Definitely. I hope she’s not as scary when I have company. She kicked my arse last week.
The_Prince: I would have liked to see that.
Emrys: Hey! She’s been playing longer! She’s leveled up way beyond me!
The_Prince: Uh-huh. Keep telling yourself that.
Merlin only realizes he’s smiling when his cheeks begin to ache. He covers his mouth with his hand, as if someone’s around to witness it.
***
Farming is much more fun when two characters are doing it together, Merlin decides. In fact, everything’s more fun with company, and The_Prince has become near constant company for Emrys over the past week. He appreciates having a knight as a companion. A sorcerer can only do so much in hand-to-hand combat, particularly if his opponent gets too close to him.
It gives The_Prince license to laugh at him, but he’s alright with that.
Emrys: It’s not funny.
The_Prince: He turned you into a toad, Emrys. An actual toad. I can’t believe that actually happened.
Emrys: >=( You’re supposed to be on my side.
The_Prince: Hey, I protected your little toad-like self until you were able to become human again.
Emrys: True. I’m forever indebted to you.
The_Prince: Indeed. Hey, he dropped a dress! You should wear it.
Emrys: What?!
The_Prince: Well, you are the damsel-in-distress of the pair of us, aren’t you?
Emrys: You’re so very pleasant.
The_Prince: You like it.
Merlin does.
***
Merlin winces when the rebel sorceress collapses, all too realistically, on the screen after a precise blow from Arthur’s sword.
Emrys: A bit harsh there, don’t you think? She’s going to have to go all the way back to her safe point now.
The_Prince: She was a rebel. Who cares?
Emrys: You do know this is only a game, right? You’re not ACTUALLY a knight fighting for the good of the kingdom.
The_Prince: God, will you shut up? Your impeccable moral code doesn’t have to apply to every little thing in the game. We’re not all as perfect as you, okay? Some of us play to blow off steam.
Emrys is offline.
Merlin stares at the words on the screen for a long time, once he’s safe, beyond reach of his internet friend now that he’s signed out of the game. He knows it wasn’t the most mature way to react, but the words wound him in places that he can’t really afford to think about right now.
He pushes his chair back from the desk, pads into the kitchen to make himself a sandwich and a cup of tea, and takes his time in consuming both. It’s more than half an hour later that he returns to his computer, sagging into it. He takes a deep breath before clicking to sign back into the game.
3 New Private Message from The_Prince
“Great,” Merlin murmurs, clicking the link.
The first:
Very mature, Emrys. The very first time someone tells you that you’re not absolutely perfect and that you can be so fucking annoying sometimes, you run off and hide like a little girl, instead of standing up for yourself or even just admitting that maybe you’re not the completely amazing person you seem to think you are. God, grow up.
The second:
I can’t believe you’ve been gone this long. I was sure you’d just gone off to come up with something witty and scathing to say in response. Seriously, just come back so we can get on with the game, alright? You don’t even have to talk to me if you don’t want to.
The third:
Look, Emrys, I’m sorry, alright? I didn’t really mean what I said. I think you’re very pleasant company, and I enjoy having you as a playing companion. You’re really not as self-righteous or anything as I made you out. In fact, the way you stick up for everybody, in and out of the game, is a bit endearing.
And, I know this doesn’t really excuse it or make up for it, but I’m having a very shit day. My father is threatening to give my promised position in his company to this underling who doesn’t deserve it because my marks aren’t just perfect enough, and he’s just so difficult sometimes, and I feel like I’m never going to be good enough, and can you maybe understand why Morgana thinks that I may need an escape from reality from time to time?
Just come back, please.
Merlin checks to see if The_Prince is where he left him. He is, standing very still, and Merlin realizes with a burst of affection that he realized he’s online and is patiently waiting for him to break the silence.
Emrys: Your father sounds difficult. I’m sorry.
The_Prince: It’s no excuse. Fathers are like that.
Emrys: I wouldn’t know.
The_Prince: What do you mean?
Emrys: Mine left when I was four. Barely remember him.
The_Prince: Oh. I’m sorry.
Emrys: It’s alright. My mother used to romanticize him for me, that he was a hero, running about saving the world. But I know that he was just not interested in being a part of my life.
The_Prince: Then he must have been a complete idiot.
Merlin doesn’t think any cruel thing The_Prince could say would ever be bad enough for him to forget those words.
***
“Merlin!” Gwen waves at him, grinning. “Over here. I got you a drink.”
Merlin weaves his way through the pub and toward the booth. He likes this particular place; the music is never too loud, and he doesn’t ever feel as if he’s suffocating. He plops down beside her and drops his head on her shoulder. “You are a lifesaver and I love you.”
Gwen laughs softly. “Long week?”
“You have no idea. Four exams, Gwen. Four. And I should be home now writing an essay that’s due on Tuesday.” He groans. “I’m not looking forward to life right now. So let’s get drunk and not remember any of it for a while.”
Gwen presses a pint into his hands. “I was wondering why I hadn’t seen you online recently.”
“Yes, well, it’s somewhat difficult to multitask, especially since every time I try to log on to just farm or idle, some rebel drags me into a battle.” He sighs, drops his head onto the sticky tabletop. “Life is so hard!”
“Poor baby.” Gwen pets his hair. “Can’t talk to your knight-in-shining-armor when there’s coursework to be done, hm?”
“Don’t call him that.” Merlin bats at her. “He’s just a nice person.”
“Not what you said the first time you spoke,” Gwen murmurs. “He’s coming tonight, you know.”
He sits up abruptly. “What?”
She grins broadly. “Morgana’s bringing him. I guess he’s going through a difficult break-up, and she wanted to bring him out to cheer him up.” She pauses. “She’s kinder than she likes to let on, you know. She wants everyone to be happy.”
Merlin is barely listening, his hands and chest and stomach going fluttery. “Do you think he’ll like me in person?” he blurts out. “I mean, it’s one thing to get along well when we’re talking online, but in person, everything is different? What if he thinks I’m obnoxious? What if he’s really a huge dick? What should I do? Gwen.”
“Oh, my god, calm down.” Gwen rubs his back, laughing. “It’ll be fine, yeah? Just be yourself. I don’t know a single person that doesn’t completely love you.”
Merlin grimaces, because he can think of a few, but decides that his energy will be better-spent in drinking as much as possible before the rest of the group arrives. By the time Morgana’s loud presence carries the rest of their friends into the pub, his face is warm, and his muscles are loose. His tongue is especially so, and he asks Gwen for the third time if he seems to be slurring his words.
She just pats his arm and doesn’t respond, which doesn’t exactly comfort him.
“Hello, darlings.” Morgana drops a kiss on Merlin’s head, reaches over to squeeze Gwen’s hand as she slides into the booth across from him. “You both know Morgause and Mordred. And this is my brother, Arthur! Arthur, this is Gwen, and Merlin.”
Arthur is tall, and built, and has a slightly-crooked football-injury nose and very English teeth. He also has blonde hair and blue eyes, and Merlin is pretty much convinced he’s the most perfect thing ever. He waves a little awkwardly. “Hi, Arthur. Nice to finally meet you.”
Arthur smiles at him, and somehow it seems relieved. “Thanks. Morgana refuses to tell me about any of her friends, so I wish I knew more about you than that your name is Merlin.”
Merlin’s heart sinks and he can practically read the confused expletives typing themselves across the front of Gwen’s brain. Then he notices the glee in Morgana’s smile and he clears his throat. “Hey, Morgana, will you come with me to the bar? We can get everyone’s drinks.”
“Of course, my darling.” Morgana rises far too gracefully, and when Merlin stands beside her, she links her arm through his and leads the way.
Merlin clears his throat. “So is there a reason that Arthur seems to have absolutely no idea who I am?”
She bursts into giggles. “That’s because he doesn’t! When he called me demanding to know which of my friends was so rude to him online, I refused to give him your name.”
“Why?”
“It amuses me.”
Merlin groans, drops his face into his hands. “Why are you ruining my life?”
Morgana giggles. “Well, you get a fresh start with him now. A chance to see if you really like each other, and you’re not just trying very hard to like each other because you like each other online.”
“You’re making this harder than it needs to be. I know it’s him.”
“And yet, you didn’t tell him who you were,” Morgana points out.
His face heats up. “Well, it’s - I mean, I don’t want everyone to know this is our first time meeting in person but that we’ve been talking a lot online,” he murmurs. “That would embarrass him.”
Morgana lays down a tip for the bartender and lifts her martini to her lips, studying him carefully with her piercing eyes. “You know him very well,” she says quietly, after setting it down again, turning it in a slow circle on the bar. “Better than I expected.”
Merlin doesn’t have anything to say to that. Morgana seems to understand.
***
Arthur keeps smiling at Merlin, and the only effect this has is to turn him into a little ball of anxiety. They’ve retired to Morgana’s incredibly spacious flat, where he’s tipped himself from having a bit to drink to having a bit too much, and he sinks into the sofa, feeling as if he’s become a part of it.
Arthur plops suddenly down beside him, and Merlin does his best to glare at him. “Why do you keep staring at me?”
“Because you’re drunk,” he says simply. “Very drunk. And you’re a bit flushed, just through here.” He uses his pinky to trace across Merlin’s cheekbones, over the ridge of his nose. “It’s a bit endearing.”
Merlin looks around at their friends, bewildered, and finds them caught in their own conversations. No one’s paying them any attention. He turns his eyes back to Arthur’s face. “Are you chatting me up?” He all but shrieks the words.
Arthur shifts a bit, suddenly uncomfortable. “Well, yeah, I suppose. You’ve been going all shy whenever I spoke to you or anything at the pub, so I thought maybe you fancied me.”
“Well, I - um.” Merlin’s face is far too warm. “It’s not that - you’re very attractive.”
Arthur’s worry slides into an expression of delight. “So come out with me.”
“Now?”
“Obviously not,” Arthur says impatiently, scoffing. “Tomorrow. Next weekend. Sometime soon. What do you think?”
I should tell him, Merlin thinks so loudly that he wonders how Arthur doesn’t hear him. I should tell him I’m Emrys.
He doesn’t though. Instead, he smiles at him, and he nods. “Yes. Alright. Let’s go out.”
Merlin finds that he’s rather fond of that smile.
***
Arthur laughs too loudly. He also talks too much and makes little gulping noises when he drinks. He taps his fork on his plate when he’s speaking and seems to be able to say hello to everyone in the restaurant, but usually forgets to introduce Merlin to anybody.
Merlin is utterly charmed, and he hates that.
He also hates that he knows so many things about Arthur that Arthur has no idea he knows about him. It makes him feel ashamed, guilty, like he’s cheating. He’s on a date with a man he’s only just met, but that he’s known for months. And it’s unfair.
“You’ve been very quiet, Merlin,” Arthur picks at the remainder of his potatoes, pushes them toward the edge of his plate like he’s decided he’s not going to finish eating them. “Are you having a good time?”
Damn it; now he thinks I don’t like him. “Oh! Yeah, of course. Yes. I’m just nervous. It’s been a long time since anyone asked me on a date.” He literally bites his tongue, and his eyes water with the pain. “I really shouldn’t have said that. It makes me sound pathetic. And like I only said yes to you because I didn’t have any other prospects.”
“Over-thinking,” Arthur says slowly, admonishing him. “It’s alright. It’s difficult not to be a little nervous when you’re on a date with someone as good-looking as me.” He wriggles his eyebrows, then grins when Merlin laughs. “I want to get to know you, so you need to talk. Tell me about yourself.”
“What do you want to know?”
“Anything. Everything. What do you do for fun?”
“Um.” Merlin runs his tongue along his bottom lip, anxiety bubbling up in his chest. “I like video games.”
Arthur lights up. “Me too! Well, kind of. Are you on Kilgarrah Online? I think most of Morgana’s friends are; I’m under the impression she’s made most of her friends there.” He chuckles, shakes his head.
Merlin swallows hard. “Well. I mean, is there something wrong with making friends online?”
“No. It’s just weird. It seems lazy, you know? Like it’s too much effort to really get to know someone in real life.”
“You haven’t made any friends playing Kilgarrah?”
Arthur shrugs, his lips drawing up thoughtfully. “No. Not really. There’s this guy I talk to sometimes, but it’s mostly that he’s a good playmate.”
“I see,” Merlin says quietly. “Could you see yourself being his friend?”
“I don’t know. Probably, if we’d met under the right circumstances.” He pauses. “I think I insulted you. You did meet Morgana through the game, didn’t you? I didn’t mean - I mean, it’s not the way I make friends, but I have no room to judge someone else for how they begin relationships. I’m sorry.”
Merlin manages a small smile. “It’s fine.”
***
He doesn’t sign online anymore. He doesn’t know how he can talk to Arthur again.
***
Morgana perches on Merlin’s window seat and pushes his window open so she can light a cigarette without his scolding. The ember on the end burns bright when she sucks in a breath, and she breathes it out into the Saturday afternoon air. Merlin thinks about telling her that even if she smokes that way, he still has to air out the flat after she leaves, but is much too tired to try.
“Arthur’s very anxious that you haven’t called him yet,” she says casually. “It’s been two weeks, after all.”
Merlin closes the physics book he was only pretending to read anyway. “I’m just not interested, alright? If he hasn’t figured that out by now, maybe it’s a good thing I haven’t spoken to him again, because he’s not as clever as I thought he was.”
Morgana snorts, pressing the heel of her hand against her mouth. “You thought he was clever?”
Merlin shrugs. “A bit, yeah. What of it?”
“Merlin.” She sighs, moves over to sit beside him. “I’m just taking the piss. It’s not as if - I mean, if you really like him, what does it matter what stupid thing he said?”
“He told me that he didn’t like me, Morgana,” Merlin says quietly. “Just because it was the online me, and not the real-life me, it doesn’t make it any less hurtful. Especially when - I mean, he’s important to me. He has been since we met, pretty much. We’ve - I’ve told him things I’ve never really talked about with anyone, pretty much. We’ve - I’ve told him things I’ve never really talked about with anyone.”
“So you feel a little like he betrayed you?” Morgana suggests. “Like he wasn’t worth your trust and confidence?”
“Yeah. I’m just - I like him, Morgana. I just can’t have him feel that way about this whole section of me that I gave to him, just because of the way it was given. It’s not fair.”
She rubs his back, soothingly, and doesn’t speak. Merlin is grateful.
***
Merlin signs on to Kilgarrah Online once, in the middle of the night on a Tuesday. He knows Arthur has an early lecture, so he takes the opportunity to get a much-needed (and -deserved) game fix.
He finds a message, sent almost a week ago.
Hi, Emrys. I haven’t seen you online recently. I’ve missed our chats a bit. I hope your coursework isn’t just kicking your arse or something. It happens to me sometimes, as you know. Anyway, I suppose I just miss you. I hope to hear from you soon.
Merlin isn’t sure whether to seethe at the message or to just feel confused. Arthur seems legitimately lonely, perhaps sad, and he just doesn’t understand. Why did he bother with all that, if he doesn’t even consider Merlin a friend?
He’s typing out a message in response before he can think about it.
I’m not especially fond of you right now. I mean. I was pretty fond of you before, thought we could be friends, but I guess you don’t DO online friendships? I feel pretty stupid, to be honest. A right idiot, because I was sure that we were actually developing some kind of friendship here. And I’m sure that was my fault, after you reacted the way you did, the first time we spoke. But you didn’t have to lead it all on quite like you did. We could’ve just played together and that would be that. I’m sorry that I was so presumptuous as to assume we were friends.
Merlin.
He rolls his chair back from his computer, propels himself to his feet, and signs out, shuts down his computer. He goes to the bathroom, cleans his teeth, and all but dives into his bed afterwards. Only then does he remember that he signed the message with his real name.
***
Merlin wakes in the morning to some fairly ferocious knocking at his door. There are two reasons this pisses him off. The first is that Wednesdays are his late days. He has no reason to be awake before two o’clock in the afternoon. So being woken at nine am isn’t his favorite thing. The second reason is that, despite ignoring the knocking for several long minutes, his eyes closed tightly like that will make it stop, the knocking doesn’t stop. It persists for ten minutes.
He finally throws back his duvet and stomps barefoot across his flat, wrenching the door open without bothering to look through the peephole to see who it is.
“Oh.”
Arthur looks rather frazzled, or as frazzled as someone like Arthur can look. The collar of his shirt is half-popped, and his coat is buttoned wrong, like he flew out of his lecture to get here and didn’t bother with the less important things.
Merlin’s shoulders got tight at the sight of him, and he folds his arms across his chest.
“No, no, don’t do that.” Arthur steps forward, reaches out to physically unfold his arms. “Don’t shut me out. Please. Just - hear me out. I know I messed up, alright? I know that now. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”
Merlin looks down at the floor, feeling trapped, caught by Arthur’s fingers around his wrists. “I don’t know what you want from me anymore,” he says quietly. “I was - I liked you so much, Arthur. Both ways that I knew you. You were so - I just don’t know what you want from me.”
“I just want all of you, alright? I want to get to know you, and I want to try to make this work, and I want to explain to you why I said what I did.” He steps back, takes a breath, runs a hand through his hair. It stands on end. “May I come in? I feel like an idiot talking in the corridor.”
“Now you know how I felt,” Merlin murmurs hotly, but steps aside to let him in anyway.
Arthur doesn’t even look around. He just moves to the couch and falls heavily on it. Merlin almost feels sorry for him. “Look,” he begins quietly. “I’m - When I got your message this morning, while I was in lecture, I just - I had no idea it was you, Merlin. Why didn’t you tell me?”
“You didn’t give me a chance.” Merlin walks slowly, his arms folded again, and sits in the chair across from him. He feels exposed, sitting in his pajamas, barefoot, and wishes he had his dressing gown. “You immediately started in on how online relationships are stupid or not-real or something. I was too embarrassed after that.”
“I didn’t really mean it, you know,” Arthur murmurs. “I was trying so hard to impress you, and I didn’t want you to think I was one of those guys who spends his whole life online and doesn’t have any real friends.”
“Arthur, just because we met online doesn’t mean we weren’t real friends. I - I’ve always wanted to trust someone like I trusted you. I’ve never felt comfortable enough with people to tell them the things I shared with you.” He swallows. “When my dad walked out on us, I didn’t think anyone was worth trusting anymore. I thought it was all just a waste of time. And I thought - when you opened up to me like you did, I thought maybe you could relate in some way, that you were different. I felt safe.”
Arthur swallows. “Merlin, I…”
He holds a hand up. “You made me feel like I didn’t matter. How can you fix that?”
Arthur presses his hands together, takes a deep breath. “I went from telling you to mind your own business to telling you about my father,” he laughs softly. “I don’t talk about that. I just internalize his expectations and try my hardest to both live up to them and subvert them. And within a week, I was spilling my heart out. That was terrifying, and wonderful, and then I met you in person and you were - god, Merlin, you have to know how gorgeous you are - and I had no idea - and if I had, I would’ve - Merlin, you’re perfect.”
Merlin laughs at that, shakes his head. “Highly doubtful.”
“You are though,” Arthur insists. “You are. Just please give me another chance, alright?”
Merlin is silent for a while. “One more,” he decides.
***
The_Prince: You’re sabotaging me on purpose, aren’t you? You don’t WANT me to have the unicorn horn!
Emrys: I have no idea what you’re talking about.
The_Prince: Oh, I get it. You don’t want me to kill the unicorn.
Emrys: I never said that.
The_Prince: You’re ridiculous.
Emrys: As are you. We’re sitting beside each other, you know.
The_Prince: I’m aware.
Emrys: So why are we messaging like this?
The_Prince: Good point.
Merlin giggles when Arthur snags his laptop from his hands and pulls him in to kiss him. “I take it you’re not still angry about the unicorn.”
“Not in the least,” Arthur confirms, nuzzles in at his neck. “Well, perhaps a bit. You could make it up to me.”
“No! You already said you weren’t angry at all! You can’t take it back.” Merlin howls with laughter when Arthur starts tickling him. “Alright, alright, no more, no more, I give.” He runs his fingers through his hair, humming with happiness. “I will get you another unicorn.”
“It’s alright.” Arthur presses his face into Merlin’s stomach, rubbing his hand down his leg. “I’ll live without one.”
A small alarm sounds on both of their computers, and they freeze. “I bet it’s Morgana,” Merlin whispers loudly.
Arthur nods seriously. “We’d better stop her.”
They dive back into the game.