Words With Friends [oneshot]
Title: Words With Friends
Fandom: Merlin
Pairing: Arthur/Merlin
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 2, 064
Summary: Merlin makes a new friend when his flight home gets cancelled.
A/N: Written for the prompt 'Cancellations' over @ adventchallenge for Day 11/25.
"I'm sorry, Merlin. I know you were looking forward to spending Christmas with your mum this year," Lancelot said in full sympathy mode. "You could spend it with Gwen and I," he suggested.
Merlin sighed into his phone. "Thanks, mate, but it's not just my flight that the weather's effecting. No one's going anywhere."
"You could take the train. Or a bus," he suggested.
Merlin shook his head, knowing the man couldn't see it. "They're all full. And besides, my credit card's in my luggage, which is still on the plane. And I don't have enough cash on me to buy a ticket."
"Why did you put your card in your luggage?"
"Last time I flew I got pickpocketed."
"Right," Lancelot said, intentionally not pointing out it would be a thousand times easier for someone to steal it from his unattended and unlocked suitcase. "Well, is there anything I can do?"
Merlin sighed again. "No, just wanted someone to bitch to who wouldn't make me feel like a ponce for being upset."
Lancelot laughed. "I take it that means you've already called Gwaine?"
Merlin snorted. "I don't know what I was thinking."
They chuckled over Gwaine's lack of comforting skills until Lancelot had to go. Gwen needed help getting their massive turkey out of the oven.
"I wish you were here just so you could help us est the thing. I don't even know where she got such an enormous bird. They must've been feeding it human flesh."
They hung up laughing.
Merlin continued to be amused for about ten seconds before remembering he was stuck-alone-in a nondescript airport on Christmas Eve for an indeterminable amount of time. He slumped in his seat and set about beating his Angry Birds high score.
--
Merlin awoke who-knows-how-long-later to the shrill ring of a mobile that was not his own. He had a proper ringtone-the howling from "Werewolves of London"-not the piercing shriek of one of the preset tones. Who actually used those?
Pulling himself into a sitting position, his back protesting vehemently, he looked blearily at the new person in the room with him. When he'd fallen asleep he'd been alone. He guessed all the other passengers had decided not to hang about. If the man had been one of his fellow passengers, he hadn't noticed him before, and he thought he probably would have. All Merlin could see of him was his back, but it was enough to tell him his front would be gorgeous.
The blond man cursed impressively a few times while fumbling through his posh briefcase in search of his screaming mobile. He wore an expensive suit. Merlin didn't know a lot about suits; he'd never worn one in his life, but even he could tell the solid black getup the man sported was as exquisite as they came. The suit jacket was off and slung carefully over the back of the plastic chair beside the man, a simple red and maroon silk tie on top of it. The white shirt he wore underneath was a bit rumpled but showed signs of previously being perfectly crisp. He tried not to notice how the shirt stretched over the man's body when he bent to rummage through his things.
Merlin watched him struggle with an amused smile. When he finally recovered the phone, it had already stopped ringing. He pressed a few buttons and lifted it to his ear. Loud enough for Merlin to hear clearly, a voicemail from a woman began.
"Honestly, Arthur, you'd think you'd have learned to keep your mobile in an easily accessible pocket by now. I know you're not busy, so I can only assume you've lost it in your purse once again like the incurable pillock you are."
The man-Arthur, it seemed-glowered and muttered, "It's a briefcase." Merlin bit back a snicker.
"But anyway, I was just calling to inform you that father has sent a car for you. It should be there in an hour or so to pick you up and and take you to a hotel or wherever you wish to go. He sends his condolences that you won't be able to join us until after Christmas. I, however, would like to curse you for being such a lucky sod. If you weren't such an imbecile I'd say you'd planned this. Wish I'd thought of it. Do you suppose it's too late to pretend to contract a terminal illness and fake my death?" Arthur barked a laugh. "Probably. In any case, Happy Christmas, little brother." The message ended and Arthur took the phone off his ear to fiddle with the buttons.
"Lovely family you've got there," Merlin commented without thinking.
Startled, the man whirled around to stare at him. He looked him up and down appraisingly for a moment before sneering slightly. "Didn't anyone ever tell you it's rude to eavesdrop?"
"Hard not to when you've got the volume turned up to max," Merlin said, slightly affronted. "Besides, I'd say I'm entitled since you're the one that woke me up in the first place."
"My sincerest apologies. I'll put it on vibrate so you can get your beauty sleep. You've clearly not had enough in your life."
He ignored the jibe and simply pursed his lips at the man. "Not a very friendly bloke, are you?"
Arthur scowled at him and Merlin tried not to think he was adorable. His eyes were too magnificently blue to be menacing.
"I've no reason to be friendly."
"You've no reason not to be either," Merlin pointed out.
Arthur glared at him but didn't argue. Grunting noncommittaly, he turned his back on Merlin again and continued messing with his phone.
Merlin shrugged and pulled out his own. The dragonfruits on his zombie farm were probably ready to be harvested.
"Could you possibly turn that down?"
Merlin glanced up at the blond. "What?" Just then, one of his zombies moaned, "Braaaaaaains," and he smiled. "Sorry, they're just hungry."
Amusement flashed in the man's eyes and Merlin felt a surge of triumph.
"Well then feed them. I'm trying to focus here and they're distracting me."
"What are you doing?" Merlin asked, closing the zombie farm app on his mobile and turning to face Arthur fully.
Arthur turned to the computer in his lap. "Writing a business proposal."
Merlin frowned. "It's Christmas Eve. Why are you working?"
"Nothing better to do," he said, typing a few words.
"There are plenty of better things you could be doing."
Arthur frowned at him skeptically. "Like what?"
Merlin grinned. "You could play Words with Friends with me."
"But we're not friends," Arthur said.
"Easily fixed. All I need is your email address." That earned Merlin a smile, which he returned enthusiastically.
Arthur glanced at his laptop briefly before consenting. "Allright. This is crap anyway. I don't have the proper resources."
Merlin beamed and gave him his email.
"Merlin Emrys, 26, medical assistant; likes bad pop music, greasy food, and...the great slash dragon?" Arthur read from his Facebook profile. He raised an eyebrow at him.
Merlin laughed. "It's an inside joke."
"I see," he said, sending Merlin a friend request.
Merlin's phone beeped when he received it and he opened it to peruse Arthur's page.
"Arthur Pendragon, 28, junior VP," Merlin oohed and ahhed appropriately. "Likes reading, football, and rare wines." Merlin whistled, "You're thoroughly boring, aren't you?"
Arthur huffed. "I can hardly write that I like playing Zelda in the buff, wearing ladies knickers, and having violent gay sex where my colleagues can see, can I?"
Merlin bit his lip. "I'm not sure which one of those to touch first."
"None of them, because they aren't true," Arthur said, laughing.
"On, no! You can't take it back now!" Merlin teased. "I want to know more about this violent gay sex you've been having."
Arthur turned his nose up at him indignantly, his cheeks burning. "Just accept the request and let's play the blasted game!"
"Okay, okay," Merlin relented, still grinning mischievously.
He moved to sit behind Arthur, their backs to each other in the uncomfortable plastic chairs. Arthur went first, placing 'BIDDY' on the star in the middle, the 'Y' landing on the double word score. Twenty-four points.
"Well done, ArtyP," Merlin said, struggling not to giggle at the username.
"Thanks, WizardGod," he countered.
They laughed at each other before going quiet while Merlin focused on making a word. He played 'HEAD' using the first 'D' of Arthur's word and getting a triple letter score on the 'E'. Ten points.
"You'll have to do better than that, Emrys," Arthur taunted.
"I'm just getting started, Pendragon. I've never lost this game. Not even to my mate who's an English major at Oxford."
Arthur grunted disbelievingly and they set in.
An hour later, Merlin had whipped Arthur, 256 to 115.
"Shite, you weren't kidding about being good at this," Arthur said, scowling at his computer as if it had betrayed him. "You used a word descrambler, didn't you?"
Merlin harrumphed, offended.
"You had to; who the hell just knows what 'FOGOU' means?"
"I told you; I have a paleontologist friend."
"Yes, and you had a history buff friend for 'HARUSPEX', and another biologist friend who specialized in mold for 'NOSTOC'. Awfully convenient if you ask me."
"Just because you're a prat with no mates doesn't mean everyone else is too," Merlin quipped.
"Is that the charm that won you all those mates?" Arthur deadpanned.
"In fact, it is," he said, grinning at the blond.
Arthur's mobile rang before he could argue further. Having already had it out this time, he answered it immediately with a curt, "Arthur Pendragon," by way of greeting. He listened, frowning slightly, and then said, "I'll be right there," before hanging up without saying goodbye.
"My chariot awaits," he said. Standing, he started gathering his things.
Merlin just nodded and said nothing. He'd only known Arthur for an hour, but he found himself wanting the man to stay, and not just because he'd be lonely when he left. He was good at making friends and there were thousands of other people in the airport he could make nice with.
But he didn't want to make friends with those people. He wanted to get to know Arthur some more. Sure, he'd been a right arse when they'd first met, and he felt as though almost their entire conversation with each other had been one giant argument, and he was bollocks at Words with Friends, but he was still drawn to the man. He liked the way he pouted. And the way he made up curse words as he went along, never really cursing. And the way he puffed up like a pompous git when he couldn't think of a witty comeback to one of Merlin's wise cracks.
He'd be sad to see him go. He hadn't even left yet and already he felt more alone than when he'd first realized he'd be spending Christmas trapped in an airport.
"So," Arthur began, his back to Merlin while he carefully put away his fancy laptop in the special pocket of his briefcase. "I couldn't help but notice you're listed as single on your Facebook page."
Merlin stared at Arthur's lovely back in mild surprise. He'd noticed that, had he? "And?"
"Well," he cleared his throat nervously. "It would seem that your plans for the night were ruined, as were mine, so..." he tried to shrug casually, but Merlin could see his ears burning with embarrassment. "If you're not already attached, I was wondering if you'd like to have dinner with me?"
Merlin didn't know what to say. Of all the things he'd expected Arthur to say as farewell, it certainly hadn't been to ask him out.
His things put away, Arthur turned reluctantly to look at him. He looked so uncertain of himself, Merlin melted.
"That sounds brilliant," he said, smiling when Arthur lit up. "But nowhere's going to be open this late on Christmas Eve."
Arthur shrugged, unconcerned. "Room service at my hotel is available all day and night."
Merlin gave him a wry grin. "You're taking me to your hotel room on our first date? Should I expect violent gay sex before the night is through?"
"That would depend on how easy you are, Merlin."
"Incredibly."
Arthur laughed as he got up to leave. "Shall we then?"
Merlin stood to follow.
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