Fanfiction: The King of Queens', modern Cambridge AU, WIP (4/10)
Title: The King of Queens', Chapter Four
Fandom: Merlin
Rating: R now but will end up NC-17
Word count: This part 3,461. (16,306 in total so far)
Warnings: Some homophobia
Summary: Modern AU. Merlin has always dreamed of going to Cambridge University and is thrilled to win a place at Queens’ College. Whilst there he falls hopelessly in love with the JCR President, drinking society President, Lacrosse captain and all-round popular guy Arthur Pendragon. Arthur takes him under his wing until Merlin stands to be LGBT Rep on the JCR and Arthur realises that Merlin likes boys. Full of Cambridge slang, UST, Arthur being a knobhead with no knob, and eventual happy ending. I promise.
Previous parts: CHAPTER ONE; CHAPTER TWO; CHAPTER THREE
The next two weeks of term slipped by unbelievably quickly. For Merlin they were a hedonistic and exhausting blur of booze, bops, black tie, gowns, overpriced clubs, getting burgers from Gardies at 4am and trying desperately not to cock up his weekly essay too badly. Dr Gaius, his supervisor for Paper 4 (British Political and Constitutional History 1485-1750), was faintly terrifying.
‘You’ll burn out if you keep going at this rate,’ Gwen said, seriously. She’d just caught Merlin in the college library, tucked away in the corner of the top floor, fast asleep with his head on his untidily scribbled notes.
‘What time is it?’ Merlin asked, lifting his head and grimacing as he unpeeled a sheet of paper from where it was stuck to his face.
‘It’s 11pm,’ Gwen tutted. She licked her finger and used it to rub at Merlin’s cheek. ‘You’re covered in ink. You look ridiculous.’
‘Oi,’ Merlin fended her off. ‘I don’t want your spit on me.’ He rubbed ineffectually at his face then looked down at his notes, all smudged. ‘I spent two hours writing them.’
‘How long have you been in here?’
‘Since 8pm. Arthur tried to get me to go to Cindies with him but I told him to fuck off.’
‘For once,’ Gwen said, pointedly.
‘What’s that supposed to mean?’ Merlin secretly loved how everyone commented on how much time they spent together, but liked to pretend that he didn’t.
‘I mean,’ she spelled out for him, ‘that you have been out pretty much every night since you matriculated, and it’s getting ridiculous.’
He flushed, ‘It’s fine.’
‘It’s not fine, Merlin. How’s your work going?’
‘My last two essays have been 2.is,’ he said, smugly.
‘When was the last time you slept for longer than four hours, though?’ she asked.
He had to rack his brains, ‘Um…’
‘Exactly,’ she crowed, triumphantly. ‘You can’t party all night then do a full-day of work on top of it. Something has to give. Bloody hell, Merlin, your dark-rings are so bad it looks like you’re wearing eyeliner.’
Merlin sighed, rumpled his hair up as he put his head in his hands. ‘Fine, I’ll cut back my nights out.’
‘Good,’ she softened. She reached for his chin, turned his face so he was looking at her. ‘I’m just worried about you. I don’t think Arthur’s a good influence.’
Merlin wrenched his head away, ‘You’re the one who dated him,’ he pointed out. ‘Why did you do that if you thought he was so awful?’
‘I never said he was awful. I dated him because I fancied him, and because he was funny, and I thought I saw something in him that I liked. Something beneath the surface. But I guess I imagined it.’ She shrugged, as if it didn’t bother her, though it patently did.
‘He’s a good guy, Gwen. Honestly,’ Merlin had put all memories of his conversation with Tom from his mind. In fact there was a convenient black spot in his brain where he pushed everything unpleasant about Arthur. For example, his use of the word ‘gash’ when drunk. The time he’d told Leon (two bottles of wine in) that he’d fucked Leon’s cousin Amy when she’d come to visit, but that she was shit at giving head. The way he shagged his way through Cambridge, and never, ever called again. The fact that he kissed and told, so much so that all of the Uni football team knew the pubic topiary of the majority of his conquests. ‘You don’t see what I see.’
Gwen quirked an eyebrow, ‘So you didn’t see him vomit into a pint glass in the middle of Queens’ bar last week? And then wipe his mouth and pull that poor little Fresher, Carly?’
Merlin sighed, ‘Fine, fine, I did see that, and he was behaving like a Grade A twat, and I told him so.’
She did that eyebrow quirk again and Merlin found it incredibly discomfiting, ‘I did, I did! I’m not denying he has his faults. But deep down he’s a good person.’
‘How deep down?’ Gwen asked.
Merlin laughed, ‘Honestly, he’s just bad in front of the drinking society lads. He’s not like that really.’
‘Whatever. I just want you to stay a nice boy. A nice boy who doesn’t shag girls and never acknowledge them again.’
Merlin laughed wryly, ‘Trust me, that’s not going to happen.’
Gwen looked mischievous, ‘Are there any girls on the horizon?’
Merlin shook his head, ‘Nope.’
‘None?’
‘None.’
‘I find that hard to believe, good-looking boy like yourself…’ Gwen smiled and suddenly Merlin knew like a punch in the gut that she was flirting with him. Oh fuck.
‘Seriously Gwen, there are no girls on the horizon.’ He stressed.
‘So you’re a free agent, then?’
‘Yes,’ he agreed, reluctantly.
‘No other girls in your life at all?’ She looked at him expectantly, her eyes flickered to his mouth for one second and then he knew that he had to do it. She’d been a very (very) good friend to him. He had to be honest. She deserved that much.
‘No, and there won’t be. Gwen.’ He swallowed, his mouth suddenly incredibly, incredibly dry. It was like a desert in there.
‘Yes?’ Her face was so trusting, so sweet.
‘I’m gay.’
She looked confused for a split-second, as if she hadn’t heard him properly, and then she repeated loudly (far too loudly, to be honest), ‘You’re gay?’
‘Shut up, shut up!’ he snapped, plastering a hand over her mouth. ‘No one knows, alright? Well, three people know, that is. Four, including you, I suppose. But that’s it.’ He still had his hand over her mouth and she squeaked indignantly. He removed it.
‘I’m so sorry,’ she flustered. ‘I didn’t realise.’
‘Why would you?’ he said, moodily. ‘It’s not like I’ve told anyone, is it? Well, except my Mum. And Lance. And Tom.’
‘Lance knew?’
‘It slipped out when I first met him. He swore he’d never tell anyone.’
‘I was just flirting as a joke, you know,’ she said, awkwardly.
‘Yeah, of course,’ he agreed, fiddling with the hem of his jumper.
‘Are you going to… you know?’ she waved a hand vaguely.
‘Kiss men? Do it in the library? Come out?’ he hazarded a guess.
‘Yeah, come out.’ She was flushed and off-kilter, obviously embarrassed.
‘Eventually. I think. I thought I would have done by now but the time hasn’t been right.’ The words sounded lame to him.
‘D’you worry what people will think?’ Gwen had this way of looking at Merlin sometimes, like she could see every part of him. ‘Do you worry what Arthur will think?’ she asked, softly.
‘Maybe,’ he kept fiddling with the cuff, picking at a thread, wondering if if he pulled it it would all unravel.
‘I’m sure he’d like you regardless.’
Merlin looked at her then. Really looked at her. Pretty much skewered her with his gaze it was so intense. ‘Do you?’
Her eyes skittered sideways, and then down. ‘No.’ She thought about it for a moment, ‘Well, I think he would still like you. Really. I just think he wouldn’t know how to make you fit into his life if you were gay. But honestly,’ she grabbed his hands, stilled them. ‘You can’t not come out because of him.’
‘You don’t understand though,’ he said. ‘I was bullied through school. Really badly. I used to have stuff thrown at me and be called names, yeah, but that was the easy part. The worst stuff was that they used to hold me down, kick me, punch me, yank my hair out, give me black eyes. I have a scar on my arm from where they burned ‘faggot’ into it.’
‘Fuck,’ Gwen’s eyes welled up in sympathy. ‘Did they get punished?’
‘The one who did the ‘faggot’ thing was expelled, but the other stuff carried on. They were just sneakier about it. But the thing was, they didn’t even know that I was gay at the time. I didn’t even really know. And I come here, and the most popular guy in the whole of college takes me under his wing, tells everyone how great I am, how cool I am. And it’s hard to do the right thing when everything could end up fucked up because of it.’
Gwen got up then, crouched by his chair, and pulled his top-half into an awkward hug. She was crying a bit. ‘I’m so sorry you went through that. I got bullied a bit for being mixed-race, but nothing like that. If you ever need to talk you know where I am, yeah?’
‘Yeah,’ Merlin felt all mixed up inside.
‘You should get some sleep, Merlin. Really. Everything will seem better in the morning.’
‘I think you’re probably right.’
‘I know I’m right. Anyway, I’m your mother,’ she wiped her eyes with the back of her hands. ‘And mother knows best.’
***
Merlin felt moody and confused as he walked back to his room, hood up to protect his ears from the frankly freezing weather. He felt embarrassed for what he’d told Gwen about the scar (he’d never meant to tell anyone here) and he felt confused about what she’d said about Arthur, and him coming out. Sometimes, when the two of them were together, one on one, he’d tell himself that Tom was mistaken and that Arthur would be totally cool with it and accept it.
But then he’d remember hearing how many times Arthur used the word ‘gay’ as an insult. Like, ‘that shirt is so gay’ or ‘this tv show is fucking gay’ and then he’d realise that it would change everything and he didn’t want to deal with that. Sometimes he felt guilty for even liking Arthur at all, considering some of the bullshit he pulled with his laddish (bigoted) persona. But Merlin always told himself, comfortingly, that it was just a persona. He wasn’t really a bigot, he just felt he had an image to keep up in front of the other laddish guys in college. Yeah? Yeah.
Merlin knew deep down, though, that if anyone else except Arthur behaved that way then Merlin would hate them. He’d physically feel revolted by their presence. Sometimes he literally shuddered when he heard one of Arthur’s twattish team-mates braying something offensive.
Merlin took his keys out of his pocket, shaking his head as if the physical gesture would dislodge some of his more unpleasant thoughts.
And there was Arthur. Propped in the doorway with a bottle of wine.
‘This is getting creepy,’ Merlin huffed. ‘How long have you been here?’
‘Approximately five minutes. The bar was closing so I nabbed a bottle and headed up.’
‘I thought you were going out?’
‘I did,’ Arthur said, shortly. ‘But the queue to get in was epic so I came back here looking for company.’
‘And what? All the fresher girls in the bar turned you down?’ Merlin knew he was being caustic but the conversation with Gwen had left him feeling rubbed raw and sensitive. He was angry at Arthur. Angry at himself. And he didn’t know what to do about it.
‘No,’ Arthur rolled his eyes. ‘Have you seen what I’m wearing today?’ He did a spin and tipped Merlin an exaggerated wink. ‘According to Varsity I’m the fittest guy in Queens’.’
‘Varsity is written by wankers.’ Merlin had only read half of one issue of the student newspaper but even that had been enough to convince him that it was irredeemably pretentious and just generally shit. ‘And you look ridiculous, by the way. That tie does not go with that shirt.’
‘Are you going to let me in or what?’ Arthur chose to ignore him.
‘Fine, fine, come in,’ Merlin complained, waving farewell to that early night even as he cursed himself for his weakness.
***
‘I don’t think you get it, Merlin,’ Arthur drawled. He was lying on his back on Merlin’s bed (something which made Merlin’s mouth go slightly dry) and he was holding forth on how difficult it was to be him. Merlin was finding it hard to take it seriously. And not to look at the trail of golden hair on his stomach where his shirt was rucked up.
Arthur had brought an expensive bottle of wine with him but it had slipped down a bit too easily and he had ended up raiding the cupboards of the girl in the next corridor, nicking one of her cheaper bottles. It tasted like paint-stripper, but it still slipped down fine, Merlin thought. Not that he had had much experience with expensive wine, or wine at all, to be honest. His Mum drank the occasional glass of Lambrusco but Merlin’s experiences of alcohol had previously been limited to the occasional pint of beer and, on one memorable occasion, Ouzo that Will had nicked from his parents’s cupboards. Merlin had been hiccoughing aniseed for days.
‘Oi, Merlin! Wake up.’ Arthur clicked his fingers in front of Merlin’s eyes and he blinked and started paying attention again. It was fairly hard, though: he was tired, and he’d had quite a bit to drink, and Arthur had been whining unnecessarily for quite some time now.
‘Yeah, sorry, what were you saying?’
‘Just that it can be really difficult being me.’ Arthur sighed melodramatically.
Merlin snorted. ‘I’m sorry, Arthur. You’re filthy rich, every girl in college fancies you, you’ve got tons of friends and you’re going to graduate with a first and get a brilliant job. So excuse me if I refuse to mop up your ridiculous emo tears.’
Arthur lobbed a pillow at Merlin. ‘You can’t talk to me like that! Don’t you know who I am?’
‘A Grade A pillock?’ Merlin suggested, tossing the pillow back. ‘A massive knobjockey? One of the biggest twats to ever walk the hallowed halls of Queens’ college?’
Despite himself, Arthur cracked a grin. ‘I meant, don’t you know who my father is?’
Merlin shook his head, ‘Sorry, nope. Does that make me a massive cultural heathen?’
‘Well, sort of, yes.’ Arthur looked exasperated but also a bit pleased at the same time. Merlin wasn’t sure why.
‘He’s Lord Uther Pendragon.’
Merlin shook his head.
‘Conservative politican, Lord Uther Pendragon?’
Merlin still shook his head, ‘I’m only just legal to vote…’
‘He’s the Shadow Home Secretary,’ Arthur said, finally.
‘Oh,’ Merlin said, for lack of anything else to say. ‘Oh right.’
‘Did you really not know who he was?’ Arthur fixed Merlin with a stare.
Merlin could feel himself turning beetroot, ‘The name sounds familiar now you mention it.’ He had vague memories of a good-looking man with greying hair, was sure he’d read some incredibly disparaging article about him recently. But no… nothing more than that.
‘Hmm,’ Arthur seemed unconvinced. ‘You really are a cretin.’
‘I just don’t follow Tory politics that much, that’s all. It’s hardly a crime.’
‘It is in my family,’ Arthur said, seriously. ‘My father, grandfather, great grandfather etc etc ad nauseam have been high up in the party. I’m supposed to follow in their footsteps.’
‘Do you want to?’ Merlin asked. There was a look on Arthur’s face he hadn’t seen before. He looked young, and vulnerable. But it was just a flash and then he was closed off again, arrogant, and cocky.
‘I don’t know. Maybe. Yes?’ he sounded unsure. ‘But it’s a lot to live up to. He expects a lot of me, you know. A beautiful, well-bred girlfriend. A stable private-life. Brilliant grades.’
Merlin shrugged. ‘All my Mum wants for me is for me to meet someone I love, settle down, get a good job. Be happy.’
‘Oh to have such simple expectations of me…’ Arthur did another OTT sigh.
‘What do you want, Arthur?’
‘A threesome with two Page 3 girls and an unlimited supply of Bordeaux.’
Merlin didn’t believe his pat response for a moment. ‘It’s not Leon asking, Arthur. It’s me, Merlin. I’m not going to judge you, am I?’
Arthur sighed. ‘I don’t know what I want. Maybe I’d like to go into heritage? Or do a PhD? I fought my Dad tooth and nail to apply for History. He wanted me to go to Oxford, do PPE. But I don’t really give a shit about politics.’
‘Why don’t you tell him that?’
‘He’d disinherit me probably. Or just give me the cold shoulder for all eternity, hold up others as examples of what I should be achieving. I don’t even agree with half of what he stands for, but I don’t dare tell him that. I’m expected to stand by everything he does.’ He shook his head, ‘He’s a bit of a bastard.’
‘Sounds it,’ Merlin muttered, quietly.
‘Don’t ever tell anyone I said that, though,’ Arthur sat up suddenly, looked intently at Merlin. His gaze was hot and angry. ‘If I find out you’ve ever told anyone that then… there’s no telling what I’ll do,’ he finished lamely.
‘I’m not going to tell anyone, stop being such a dickhead. Now come on, I’ve got to go to bed.’
Arthur snuggled deeper into the bed, ‘It’s such a long walk back to Old Court… and it’s probably raining. I could just stay here.’
Merlin’s pulse quickened. God, this was like a plot twist in a shitty rom-com. ‘Where would I sleep?’ he stuttered.
‘On the floor, like the peasant you are,’ Arthur drawled.
Merlin grabbed him by the belt of his jeans and hauled him up. ‘Out, you.’
Arthur laughed. ‘Make me.’ He sat back down, arms crossed, resolute. ‘I’m only going if you force me.’
Merlin grabbed his feet and tried to drag him from the bed but he laughed even harder, gripping on. Finally he shifted him and Arthur fell to the floor with a bump. He got up, held his hand out, ‘Fair play, mate.’
Merlin reached for it, only for Arthur to pull it away at the last minute and rugby tackle him to the floor. Merlin was panting and laughing and yelling ‘get off me!’ in a wholly unconvincing manner. Arthur sat on top of him and Merlin was intensely aware of where every part of their bodies were touching (arse to stomach, hands to biceps).
‘Go on, let me stay,’ Arthur wheedled.
‘Only if you sleep on the floor,’ Merlin’s voice was breathy, his breathing ragged.
‘I can share the bed with you?’ Arthur suggested.
‘Don’t you think that’s a bit… homosexual?’ Merlin chanced. Not injecting any emotion or judgement into the word.
‘What, scared I’m going to try and bone you in the night?’ Arthur laughed.
‘No,’ Merlin said. He wished.
‘We always used to do it at boarding school,’ Arthur said with a shrug.
‘I’ve heard about those places,’ Merlin teased, feeling nervous about even going there in jest. ‘Daisy-chaining, buggering in the dormitories. I know what you got up to there.’
‘Urgh, that’s disgusting,’ Arthur said. ‘I bet you’ve got a boner just thinking about it you perv.’
‘I haven’t!’ Merlin yelped.
‘I bet you do,’ Arthur persisted. ‘I bet you love the thought of me sliding my hand down the trousers of the boy in the next bed to me, wanking him off, sucking his dick… letting him fuck me.’ Arthur seemed to take an obscene relish in saying the words. ‘I bet you’ve got a massive erection right now.’
Embarrassingly, he was right, which gave Merlin the strength to buck him off and get up, once more holding the door open. ‘Seriously, go back to your own bed.’
‘Fiiiiiine, you bastard,’ Arthur moaned, exaggeratedly. ‘See you later. Sweet dreams, thinking about my boarding school antics’ he blew a mock kiss at Merlin and was gone.
Merlin shut the door, slid a hand down to his erection, and tossed himself off furiously, Arthur’s dirty words replaying over and over in his head. When he came (in a few minutes, max) he felt empty, embarrassed. And probably the most confused he’d ever felt in his life.
CHAPTER FIVE
Fandom: Merlin
Rating: R now but will end up NC-17
Word count: This part 3,461. (16,306 in total so far)
Warnings: Some homophobia
Summary: Modern AU. Merlin has always dreamed of going to Cambridge University and is thrilled to win a place at Queens’ College. Whilst there he falls hopelessly in love with the JCR President, drinking society President, Lacrosse captain and all-round popular guy Arthur Pendragon. Arthur takes him under his wing until Merlin stands to be LGBT Rep on the JCR and Arthur realises that Merlin likes boys. Full of Cambridge slang, UST, Arthur being a knobhead with no knob, and eventual happy ending. I promise.
Previous parts: CHAPTER ONE; CHAPTER TWO; CHAPTER THREE
The next two weeks of term slipped by unbelievably quickly. For Merlin they were a hedonistic and exhausting blur of booze, bops, black tie, gowns, overpriced clubs, getting burgers from Gardies at 4am and trying desperately not to cock up his weekly essay too badly. Dr Gaius, his supervisor for Paper 4 (British Political and Constitutional History 1485-1750), was faintly terrifying.
‘You’ll burn out if you keep going at this rate,’ Gwen said, seriously. She’d just caught Merlin in the college library, tucked away in the corner of the top floor, fast asleep with his head on his untidily scribbled notes.
‘What time is it?’ Merlin asked, lifting his head and grimacing as he unpeeled a sheet of paper from where it was stuck to his face.
‘It’s 11pm,’ Gwen tutted. She licked her finger and used it to rub at Merlin’s cheek. ‘You’re covered in ink. You look ridiculous.’
‘Oi,’ Merlin fended her off. ‘I don’t want your spit on me.’ He rubbed ineffectually at his face then looked down at his notes, all smudged. ‘I spent two hours writing them.’
‘How long have you been in here?’
‘Since 8pm. Arthur tried to get me to go to Cindies with him but I told him to fuck off.’
‘For once,’ Gwen said, pointedly.
‘What’s that supposed to mean?’ Merlin secretly loved how everyone commented on how much time they spent together, but liked to pretend that he didn’t.
‘I mean,’ she spelled out for him, ‘that you have been out pretty much every night since you matriculated, and it’s getting ridiculous.’
He flushed, ‘It’s fine.’
‘It’s not fine, Merlin. How’s your work going?’
‘My last two essays have been 2.is,’ he said, smugly.
‘When was the last time you slept for longer than four hours, though?’ she asked.
He had to rack his brains, ‘Um…’
‘Exactly,’ she crowed, triumphantly. ‘You can’t party all night then do a full-day of work on top of it. Something has to give. Bloody hell, Merlin, your dark-rings are so bad it looks like you’re wearing eyeliner.’
Merlin sighed, rumpled his hair up as he put his head in his hands. ‘Fine, I’ll cut back my nights out.’
‘Good,’ she softened. She reached for his chin, turned his face so he was looking at her. ‘I’m just worried about you. I don’t think Arthur’s a good influence.’
Merlin wrenched his head away, ‘You’re the one who dated him,’ he pointed out. ‘Why did you do that if you thought he was so awful?’
‘I never said he was awful. I dated him because I fancied him, and because he was funny, and I thought I saw something in him that I liked. Something beneath the surface. But I guess I imagined it.’ She shrugged, as if it didn’t bother her, though it patently did.
‘He’s a good guy, Gwen. Honestly,’ Merlin had put all memories of his conversation with Tom from his mind. In fact there was a convenient black spot in his brain where he pushed everything unpleasant about Arthur. For example, his use of the word ‘gash’ when drunk. The time he’d told Leon (two bottles of wine in) that he’d fucked Leon’s cousin Amy when she’d come to visit, but that she was shit at giving head. The way he shagged his way through Cambridge, and never, ever called again. The fact that he kissed and told, so much so that all of the Uni football team knew the pubic topiary of the majority of his conquests. ‘You don’t see what I see.’
Gwen quirked an eyebrow, ‘So you didn’t see him vomit into a pint glass in the middle of Queens’ bar last week? And then wipe his mouth and pull that poor little Fresher, Carly?’
Merlin sighed, ‘Fine, fine, I did see that, and he was behaving like a Grade A twat, and I told him so.’
She did that eyebrow quirk again and Merlin found it incredibly discomfiting, ‘I did, I did! I’m not denying he has his faults. But deep down he’s a good person.’
‘How deep down?’ Gwen asked.
Merlin laughed, ‘Honestly, he’s just bad in front of the drinking society lads. He’s not like that really.’
‘Whatever. I just want you to stay a nice boy. A nice boy who doesn’t shag girls and never acknowledge them again.’
Merlin laughed wryly, ‘Trust me, that’s not going to happen.’
Gwen looked mischievous, ‘Are there any girls on the horizon?’
Merlin shook his head, ‘Nope.’
‘None?’
‘None.’
‘I find that hard to believe, good-looking boy like yourself…’ Gwen smiled and suddenly Merlin knew like a punch in the gut that she was flirting with him. Oh fuck.
‘Seriously Gwen, there are no girls on the horizon.’ He stressed.
‘So you’re a free agent, then?’
‘Yes,’ he agreed, reluctantly.
‘No other girls in your life at all?’ She looked at him expectantly, her eyes flickered to his mouth for one second and then he knew that he had to do it. She’d been a very (very) good friend to him. He had to be honest. She deserved that much.
‘No, and there won’t be. Gwen.’ He swallowed, his mouth suddenly incredibly, incredibly dry. It was like a desert in there.
‘Yes?’ Her face was so trusting, so sweet.
‘I’m gay.’
She looked confused for a split-second, as if she hadn’t heard him properly, and then she repeated loudly (far too loudly, to be honest), ‘You’re gay?’
‘Shut up, shut up!’ he snapped, plastering a hand over her mouth. ‘No one knows, alright? Well, three people know, that is. Four, including you, I suppose. But that’s it.’ He still had his hand over her mouth and she squeaked indignantly. He removed it.
‘I’m so sorry,’ she flustered. ‘I didn’t realise.’
‘Why would you?’ he said, moodily. ‘It’s not like I’ve told anyone, is it? Well, except my Mum. And Lance. And Tom.’
‘Lance knew?’
‘It slipped out when I first met him. He swore he’d never tell anyone.’
‘I was just flirting as a joke, you know,’ she said, awkwardly.
‘Yeah, of course,’ he agreed, fiddling with the hem of his jumper.
‘Are you going to… you know?’ she waved a hand vaguely.
‘Kiss men? Do it in the library? Come out?’ he hazarded a guess.
‘Yeah, come out.’ She was flushed and off-kilter, obviously embarrassed.
‘Eventually. I think. I thought I would have done by now but the time hasn’t been right.’ The words sounded lame to him.
‘D’you worry what people will think?’ Gwen had this way of looking at Merlin sometimes, like she could see every part of him. ‘Do you worry what Arthur will think?’ she asked, softly.
‘Maybe,’ he kept fiddling with the cuff, picking at a thread, wondering if if he pulled it it would all unravel.
‘I’m sure he’d like you regardless.’
Merlin looked at her then. Really looked at her. Pretty much skewered her with his gaze it was so intense. ‘Do you?’
Her eyes skittered sideways, and then down. ‘No.’ She thought about it for a moment, ‘Well, I think he would still like you. Really. I just think he wouldn’t know how to make you fit into his life if you were gay. But honestly,’ she grabbed his hands, stilled them. ‘You can’t not come out because of him.’
‘You don’t understand though,’ he said. ‘I was bullied through school. Really badly. I used to have stuff thrown at me and be called names, yeah, but that was the easy part. The worst stuff was that they used to hold me down, kick me, punch me, yank my hair out, give me black eyes. I have a scar on my arm from where they burned ‘faggot’ into it.’
‘Fuck,’ Gwen’s eyes welled up in sympathy. ‘Did they get punished?’
‘The one who did the ‘faggot’ thing was expelled, but the other stuff carried on. They were just sneakier about it. But the thing was, they didn’t even know that I was gay at the time. I didn’t even really know. And I come here, and the most popular guy in the whole of college takes me under his wing, tells everyone how great I am, how cool I am. And it’s hard to do the right thing when everything could end up fucked up because of it.’
Gwen got up then, crouched by his chair, and pulled his top-half into an awkward hug. She was crying a bit. ‘I’m so sorry you went through that. I got bullied a bit for being mixed-race, but nothing like that. If you ever need to talk you know where I am, yeah?’
‘Yeah,’ Merlin felt all mixed up inside.
‘You should get some sleep, Merlin. Really. Everything will seem better in the morning.’
‘I think you’re probably right.’
‘I know I’m right. Anyway, I’m your mother,’ she wiped her eyes with the back of her hands. ‘And mother knows best.’
***
Merlin felt moody and confused as he walked back to his room, hood up to protect his ears from the frankly freezing weather. He felt embarrassed for what he’d told Gwen about the scar (he’d never meant to tell anyone here) and he felt confused about what she’d said about Arthur, and him coming out. Sometimes, when the two of them were together, one on one, he’d tell himself that Tom was mistaken and that Arthur would be totally cool with it and accept it.
But then he’d remember hearing how many times Arthur used the word ‘gay’ as an insult. Like, ‘that shirt is so gay’ or ‘this tv show is fucking gay’ and then he’d realise that it would change everything and he didn’t want to deal with that. Sometimes he felt guilty for even liking Arthur at all, considering some of the bullshit he pulled with his laddish (bigoted) persona. But Merlin always told himself, comfortingly, that it was just a persona. He wasn’t really a bigot, he just felt he had an image to keep up in front of the other laddish guys in college. Yeah? Yeah.
Merlin knew deep down, though, that if anyone else except Arthur behaved that way then Merlin would hate them. He’d physically feel revolted by their presence. Sometimes he literally shuddered when he heard one of Arthur’s twattish team-mates braying something offensive.
Merlin took his keys out of his pocket, shaking his head as if the physical gesture would dislodge some of his more unpleasant thoughts.
And there was Arthur. Propped in the doorway with a bottle of wine.
‘This is getting creepy,’ Merlin huffed. ‘How long have you been here?’
‘Approximately five minutes. The bar was closing so I nabbed a bottle and headed up.’
‘I thought you were going out?’
‘I did,’ Arthur said, shortly. ‘But the queue to get in was epic so I came back here looking for company.’
‘And what? All the fresher girls in the bar turned you down?’ Merlin knew he was being caustic but the conversation with Gwen had left him feeling rubbed raw and sensitive. He was angry at Arthur. Angry at himself. And he didn’t know what to do about it.
‘No,’ Arthur rolled his eyes. ‘Have you seen what I’m wearing today?’ He did a spin and tipped Merlin an exaggerated wink. ‘According to Varsity I’m the fittest guy in Queens’.’
‘Varsity is written by wankers.’ Merlin had only read half of one issue of the student newspaper but even that had been enough to convince him that it was irredeemably pretentious and just generally shit. ‘And you look ridiculous, by the way. That tie does not go with that shirt.’
‘Are you going to let me in or what?’ Arthur chose to ignore him.
‘Fine, fine, come in,’ Merlin complained, waving farewell to that early night even as he cursed himself for his weakness.
***
‘I don’t think you get it, Merlin,’ Arthur drawled. He was lying on his back on Merlin’s bed (something which made Merlin’s mouth go slightly dry) and he was holding forth on how difficult it was to be him. Merlin was finding it hard to take it seriously. And not to look at the trail of golden hair on his stomach where his shirt was rucked up.
Arthur had brought an expensive bottle of wine with him but it had slipped down a bit too easily and he had ended up raiding the cupboards of the girl in the next corridor, nicking one of her cheaper bottles. It tasted like paint-stripper, but it still slipped down fine, Merlin thought. Not that he had had much experience with expensive wine, or wine at all, to be honest. His Mum drank the occasional glass of Lambrusco but Merlin’s experiences of alcohol had previously been limited to the occasional pint of beer and, on one memorable occasion, Ouzo that Will had nicked from his parents’s cupboards. Merlin had been hiccoughing aniseed for days.
‘Oi, Merlin! Wake up.’ Arthur clicked his fingers in front of Merlin’s eyes and he blinked and started paying attention again. It was fairly hard, though: he was tired, and he’d had quite a bit to drink, and Arthur had been whining unnecessarily for quite some time now.
‘Yeah, sorry, what were you saying?’
‘Just that it can be really difficult being me.’ Arthur sighed melodramatically.
Merlin snorted. ‘I’m sorry, Arthur. You’re filthy rich, every girl in college fancies you, you’ve got tons of friends and you’re going to graduate with a first and get a brilliant job. So excuse me if I refuse to mop up your ridiculous emo tears.’
Arthur lobbed a pillow at Merlin. ‘You can’t talk to me like that! Don’t you know who I am?’
‘A Grade A pillock?’ Merlin suggested, tossing the pillow back. ‘A massive knobjockey? One of the biggest twats to ever walk the hallowed halls of Queens’ college?’
Despite himself, Arthur cracked a grin. ‘I meant, don’t you know who my father is?’
Merlin shook his head, ‘Sorry, nope. Does that make me a massive cultural heathen?’
‘Well, sort of, yes.’ Arthur looked exasperated but also a bit pleased at the same time. Merlin wasn’t sure why.
‘He’s Lord Uther Pendragon.’
Merlin shook his head.
‘Conservative politican, Lord Uther Pendragon?’
Merlin still shook his head, ‘I’m only just legal to vote…’
‘He’s the Shadow Home Secretary,’ Arthur said, finally.
‘Oh,’ Merlin said, for lack of anything else to say. ‘Oh right.’
‘Did you really not know who he was?’ Arthur fixed Merlin with a stare.
Merlin could feel himself turning beetroot, ‘The name sounds familiar now you mention it.’ He had vague memories of a good-looking man with greying hair, was sure he’d read some incredibly disparaging article about him recently. But no… nothing more than that.
‘Hmm,’ Arthur seemed unconvinced. ‘You really are a cretin.’
‘I just don’t follow Tory politics that much, that’s all. It’s hardly a crime.’
‘It is in my family,’ Arthur said, seriously. ‘My father, grandfather, great grandfather etc etc ad nauseam have been high up in the party. I’m supposed to follow in their footsteps.’
‘Do you want to?’ Merlin asked. There was a look on Arthur’s face he hadn’t seen before. He looked young, and vulnerable. But it was just a flash and then he was closed off again, arrogant, and cocky.
‘I don’t know. Maybe. Yes?’ he sounded unsure. ‘But it’s a lot to live up to. He expects a lot of me, you know. A beautiful, well-bred girlfriend. A stable private-life. Brilliant grades.’
Merlin shrugged. ‘All my Mum wants for me is for me to meet someone I love, settle down, get a good job. Be happy.’
‘Oh to have such simple expectations of me…’ Arthur did another OTT sigh.
‘What do you want, Arthur?’
‘A threesome with two Page 3 girls and an unlimited supply of Bordeaux.’
Merlin didn’t believe his pat response for a moment. ‘It’s not Leon asking, Arthur. It’s me, Merlin. I’m not going to judge you, am I?’
Arthur sighed. ‘I don’t know what I want. Maybe I’d like to go into heritage? Or do a PhD? I fought my Dad tooth and nail to apply for History. He wanted me to go to Oxford, do PPE. But I don’t really give a shit about politics.’
‘Why don’t you tell him that?’
‘He’d disinherit me probably. Or just give me the cold shoulder for all eternity, hold up others as examples of what I should be achieving. I don’t even agree with half of what he stands for, but I don’t dare tell him that. I’m expected to stand by everything he does.’ He shook his head, ‘He’s a bit of a bastard.’
‘Sounds it,’ Merlin muttered, quietly.
‘Don’t ever tell anyone I said that, though,’ Arthur sat up suddenly, looked intently at Merlin. His gaze was hot and angry. ‘If I find out you’ve ever told anyone that then… there’s no telling what I’ll do,’ he finished lamely.
‘I’m not going to tell anyone, stop being such a dickhead. Now come on, I’ve got to go to bed.’
Arthur snuggled deeper into the bed, ‘It’s such a long walk back to Old Court… and it’s probably raining. I could just stay here.’
Merlin’s pulse quickened. God, this was like a plot twist in a shitty rom-com. ‘Where would I sleep?’ he stuttered.
‘On the floor, like the peasant you are,’ Arthur drawled.
Merlin grabbed him by the belt of his jeans and hauled him up. ‘Out, you.’
Arthur laughed. ‘Make me.’ He sat back down, arms crossed, resolute. ‘I’m only going if you force me.’
Merlin grabbed his feet and tried to drag him from the bed but he laughed even harder, gripping on. Finally he shifted him and Arthur fell to the floor with a bump. He got up, held his hand out, ‘Fair play, mate.’
Merlin reached for it, only for Arthur to pull it away at the last minute and rugby tackle him to the floor. Merlin was panting and laughing and yelling ‘get off me!’ in a wholly unconvincing manner. Arthur sat on top of him and Merlin was intensely aware of where every part of their bodies were touching (arse to stomach, hands to biceps).
‘Go on, let me stay,’ Arthur wheedled.
‘Only if you sleep on the floor,’ Merlin’s voice was breathy, his breathing ragged.
‘I can share the bed with you?’ Arthur suggested.
‘Don’t you think that’s a bit… homosexual?’ Merlin chanced. Not injecting any emotion or judgement into the word.
‘What, scared I’m going to try and bone you in the night?’ Arthur laughed.
‘No,’ Merlin said. He wished.
‘We always used to do it at boarding school,’ Arthur said with a shrug.
‘I’ve heard about those places,’ Merlin teased, feeling nervous about even going there in jest. ‘Daisy-chaining, buggering in the dormitories. I know what you got up to there.’
‘Urgh, that’s disgusting,’ Arthur said. ‘I bet you’ve got a boner just thinking about it you perv.’
‘I haven’t!’ Merlin yelped.
‘I bet you do,’ Arthur persisted. ‘I bet you love the thought of me sliding my hand down the trousers of the boy in the next bed to me, wanking him off, sucking his dick… letting him fuck me.’ Arthur seemed to take an obscene relish in saying the words. ‘I bet you’ve got a massive erection right now.’
Embarrassingly, he was right, which gave Merlin the strength to buck him off and get up, once more holding the door open. ‘Seriously, go back to your own bed.’
‘Fiiiiiine, you bastard,’ Arthur moaned, exaggeratedly. ‘See you later. Sweet dreams, thinking about my boarding school antics’ he blew a mock kiss at Merlin and was gone.
Merlin shut the door, slid a hand down to his erection, and tossed himself off furiously, Arthur’s dirty words replaying over and over in his head. When he came (in a few minutes, max) he felt empty, embarrassed. And probably the most confused he’d ever felt in his life.
CHAPTER FIVE