KNIGHTS SHOULD NEVER PLAY WITH DRAGONS: Part 1
SUMMARY: Merlin hated Arthur Pendragon. He really, really did. Now he was going to have to spend three weeks as a camp leader at a summer youth camp with him?
GENRE: Modern AU
RATING: PG-15 (for allusions to the two Os: oral sex and orgasm)
WORD COUNT: ~14k
KNIGHTS SHOULD NEVER PLAY WITH DRAGONS
Merlin hated Arthur Pendragon. He really, really did.
Arthur was the reason they were both sitting in the principal’s office at the moment, Merlin with an ice pack pressed to his left eye to keep it from getting any more swollen. His nose had finally stopped gushing blood but his t-shirt and jeans were splattered with dark red - no amount of expert laundering on his mother’s part was going to get those stains out. His only solace was that Arthur was currently contending with his own split and bloody lip as well as red and sore knuckles from where his fist had made contact with Merlin’s face. Ha.
It seemed that Arthur was always the reason for Merlin’s woes and it had started when they were eight years old. Merlin could remember it vividly. They had been young boys in Mrs. Collins’ class and each student had had to present a medieval studies project. Arthur, in that cocky, arrogant way he had had even as a boy, had crafted an elaborate stone castle complete with a complement of sword-wielding knights ready to defend their kingdom. Of course, Merlin would admit only under thumb screw torture that he had been impressed by Arthur’s project at the time, even if everyone had known that Arthur’s family butler had probably helped him with most of it. With his own mum’s limited help, Merlin had crafted a magnificent dragon which “breathed” paper fire when its tail was pulled that had managed to wow most of Merlin’s classmates.
But not Arthur Pendragon. Arthur had scoffed and had called Merlin’s dragon “stupid”, claiming it had nothing to do with the medieval period, even as Merlin had vociferously explained that both magic and mythical creatures featured prominently during medieval times (at least that was what his mother had told him). Arthur had stubbornly maintained the stupidity of Merlin’s dragon and Merlin had had no choice but to respond in kind by telling Arthur that his dragon would smite all of Arthur’s knights in a millisecond and had then proceeded to follow it up with an effective demonstration.
Shoving had ensued then more forceful pushing about, and when the smoke had finally cleared, both Merlin’s and Arthur’s projects had been totalled along with a couple of classmates’ projects that had unfortunately gotten caught up in the “battle”. Merlin and Arthur had been sent to the principal’s office, the principal had summoned their respective parents, and each of the boys had gotten a stern lecture from said parents in the car ride home and for at least an hour afterward. Merlin had never forgiven Arthur for his disparaging words about his dragon or for ruining his project and he strongly suspected that Arthur felt the same, though Merlin would continue to insist that Arthur had started it.
Now nearly ten years later, the fight had started when Merlin had said something - he couldn’t even remember what now but he was sure it had been brilliant - that Arthur had apparently not taken very kindly to, which was really nothing new as far as their interactions generally went. There had been indignant shouts, verbal insults and initial pushing and shoving. Firsts had then gone a-flying, Arthur’s connecting with Merlin’s nose and eye and Merlin’s somehow managing to land on Arthur’s stupid pouty boy lips.
Mr. Gaius, Avalon High’s school principal, was sitting at his desk across from them, his hands steepled in front of him, his eyebrow raised a notch, as he regarded the two of them sternly.
Merlin shifted the ice pack and squirmed in his seat. He knew this was not going to bode well for them. Both of their school records were littered with three to five day suspensions - every blasted one of Merlin’s could be blamed on Arthur - and Merlin was sure that this time, despite having only a week left in their final school year, they would be expelled. A heavy sigh escaped from his lips at this thought, causing Mr. Gaius’ eyebrow to raise another notch. His mum was going to kill him. And it was all stupid Arthur Pendragon’s fault. Again. Fuck.
“Your father and mother will be joining us shortly,” Mr. Gaius finally said and both of the boys understood that this meant Arthur’s father and Merlin’s mother - each of them were being raised by single parents - had been called and were on their way to the school. “And I dare say I am finding myself at a loss as to what to tell them.” He gave the boys a look that was meant to convey displeasure and exasperation and Merlin couldn’t help squirming again. He really didn’t like disappointing Mr. Gaius.
“You boys have a long history together,” the principal continued. “A history that seems to be comprised mostly of fist-fights and earned suspensions. With the school year near end, I do not really see the point in suspending you.”
Fuck. They were going to be expelled.
Mr. Gaius relaxed his hands and leaned back in his chair. “At the same time, expelling you does not seem to be a sensible option either. I fear something more radical is required.”
More radical than being expelled? thought Merlin.
“Since I doubt neither of your parents would agree that sending you to military school would be beneficial,” said Mr. Gaius and Merlin gulped. “I am forced to suggest a situation in which cooperation and compromise is going to be needed.” Huh? “But I will explain that once your parents get here.”
As if on cue, the voice of Uther Pendragon could be heard coming from the outer office.
“This is the third incident this year, Hunith. It would seem that you need to get a better handle on your son.”
“I need to get a better handle on my son?” came Hunith Emrys’ indignant retort.
Merlin slid a glance at Arthur. Arthur’s head was down, his eyes boring a hole in the floor of the principal’s office. He didn’t bother to look up when his father and Merlin’s mother finally came through the door. Typical, Merlin thought.
“Oh Merlin!” his mother gushed as soon as she saw the ice pack pressed to his eye. She pulled it away gently, assessing the damage, and frowned. Hunith Emrys shot a glare at Arthur as she took the seat next to Merlin, placing a comforting hand on his arm.
Uther Pendragon sat down in the chair next to his son, pointedly ignoring the tsks and glares from Merlin’s mother. He looked at Mr. Gaius and said, “I demand to know what this hooligan has done this time to coax Arthur into behaving dishonourably.”
The grip his mother had on his arm tightened. “Oh, you did not just call my son a hooligan, Uther Pendragon.”
Merlin smirked inwardly. His mother, despite her small frame and generally unassuming demeanour, was a force to be reckoned with. Surely, Uther Pendragon would have learned that over the span of ten years. This was not the first time Arthur’s father and Merlin’s mother had had some kind of face-off. Besides, the nerve of the man to suggest that Merlin had coaxed Arthur into anything, dishonourable or otherwise. It was generally Arthur who started all things that eventually went south.
“If the glove fits,” Uther commented dryly and was saved from Hunith’s further fuming by a wise interjection from Gaius.
“Hunith, Uther,” he refereed, demanding their attention. “I have a proposal that I want to outline to all of you.”
The four of them listened as Gaius outlined his proposal: that Arthur and Merlin spend three weeks of their last summer before going to university as cooperative leaders at some summer youth camp called Camp Kilgharrah. The idea was for them to present themselves as role models to a group of ten and eleven year old boys and work together to encourage positive social interaction and teamwork.
“So what do you think?” Gaius asked brightly when he was finished.
Hunith, Uther, Arthur and Merlin all stared at him. Uther was the first to break the silence.
“Are you mad, Gaius?” he asked, and really they were all thinking the same thing. “I do not see how this is a rational solution to the problem. Why should Arthur team up with this--” Hunith shot him a glare “-Merlin to babysit some snotty kids at summer camp?”
Gaius gave a wry smile. “Because if the boys choose not to,” Mr. Gaius explained patiently, “I will have no recourse but to press charges against them for the latest trouble they’ve caused in my school.”
Hunith Emrys gasped. Merlin tried to stave off hyperventilation. Arthur remained stoic but there was a catch in his breath that belied inner panic. It was left to Uther Pendragon to calmly appeal to reason.
“Surely, you would not--”
“Surely, I would,” Gaius replied, meeting Uther Pendragon’s firm gaze.
Merlin had to admire old Gaius. Not many people challenged Uther Pendragon (his mother notwithstanding, of course) who was known for his stubborn persistence and cut-throat business tactics. Even if Merlin did agree with Uther that the principal was probably mad, he had to give old Gaius credit. The man clearly had balls.
Uther seemed to roll this around in his mind some then said, “Very well. You can expect Arthur’s full cooperation. Please have the details sent to me via my executive assistant.” He extracted a card from the inside pocket of his suit jacket and placed it on the principal’s desk.
It seemed to Merlin that Arthur’s cooperation was less than ‘full’, if the sour look on his face was any indication, but like a good son, he nodded at Mr. Gaius indicating his cooperation and consent. Arthur then rose from his seat after his father and the two Pendragon men left the office, leaving Merlin and Hunith still gaping like fish.
“Are you sure about this, Gaius?” Hunith finally asked. The principal and his mother were old friends.
Gaius rested folded hands on his desk. “Hunith, the boys have been at this since they were children,” he said. “They’re almost eighteen and grown up now. It’s gone past ridiculous. They’ve got to learn to put this feud, or whatever it is, behind them.” He gave Merlin a stern look but Merlin could see the underlying kindness in his eyes. He understood that Gaius was trying to help him - help both Merlin and Arthur. “So, Merlin, I am hoping you’ll give this a try?”
Merlin nodded, albeit reluctantly. It would definitely be a challenge. Merlin and Arthur did not play well together - that was a proven fact. How they would make it through the summer without killing each other was anybody’s guess, but if Arthur was going to go through with it (so what if Uther was making him?) then he would. Merlin wasn’t about to let Arthur Pendragon get one up on him.
Besides, Merlin really did not want to go to jail.
**
Merlin and Arthur had two weeks after graduation all to themselves before they had to pack up and go to Camp Kilgharrah (really, what kind of name was that?) where they would spend the next three agonizing weeks as camp co-leaders or whatever the hell it was they were supposed to be.
Merlin’s mum drove him to the camp the third weekend of July for ‘orientation’ which basically meant meeting the other camp leaders and going over basic rules and whatnot. Merlin was disconcerted to find Arthur Pendragon had already arrived before him and had had the chance to make nice with the other leaders. He hoped Arthur hadn’t run his mouth off about anything.
Lance du Lac, who turned out to be Head Camp Leader, was the first to greet him.
“Hi, Merlin,” Lance welcomed. “Let’s get you settled in your cabin first and then you can meet everyone.”
Merlin knew Lance somewhat. Lance had graduated from Avalon two years before him and was now at uni. He and Merlin hadn’t exactly hung out in the same crowd but Lance had started dating one of Merlin’s friends, Gwen Thomas, in his last year at Avalon High - they were still dating - and so Merlin had had occasion to interact with him. Lance was a nice guy who took responsibility easily and seriously and Merlin was not surprised that he had been appointed leader of the leaders.
Merlin’s cabin turned out to be a communal cabin - Cabin Four - that was to be the living space for six campers and their two assigned camp leaders for the next three weeks. He saw Arthur’s duffle bag (he recognized the familiar monogrammed logo) claiming one of the bottom bunks of a set of four on one side of the cabin. Merlin threw his own bag on a bottom bunk on the opposite side, wishing that there was more space between the bunk sets. It seemed way too easy from him to be able to choke Arthur in his sleep.
Resolving to unpack later, Merlin followed Lance to the camp pavilion where the other camp leaders were hanging out.
“Hey everybody, this is Merlin,” Lance said by way of introduction, leaving the others to welcome Merlin on their own.
There was Leon and Percy, who had just graduated from Mercia High School and would be going to Camelot University in the fall. They were best friends and camp co-leaders who would be supervising the campers in Cabin Five. Both were tall and friendly; they reminded Merlin of big, happy, tail-wagging dogs - a St. Bernard (Leon) and a Great Dane (Percy). There was Gwaine, who had just finished his first year at Albion University and was apparently a part-time model (Merlin’s interest piqued), paired with Lance in Cabin One. Gwaine gave him what could only be described as a smouldering look and smile and Merlin found himself blushing.
He knew Gwen and Freya, of course, from school. Gwen had just graduated along with Merlin while Freya would be going into her final year come September. This was Gwen and Freya’s second year as leaders at the camp and were assigned to their requested cabin, Cabin Two (which was conveniently next to Lance’s cabin, Merlin thought). There was also Elena and Isolde, who were friends and going into their final year at Mercia. Merlin thought they made an interesting pair. Isolde was tanned and athletic-looking, her hair pulled into a long neat braid that hung down her back. Elena was - for the lack of a better term - a mess, gangly and ungraceful, tripping over her feet as she welcomed Merlin with an exuberant ‘hello’. Mithian and Sophia were first years at Camelot University and Merlin guessed that they had probably been very popular in high school and were most likely just as popular at uni. Both were pretty and appeared friendly enough, even if their smiles didn’t quite reach their eyes, and they seemed to be catching the attention of Leon and Percy, whom Merlin supposed would likely be spending a lot of time at Cabin Six.
And then there was Arthur, of course.
Arthur gave him a stiff nod and Merlin returned it in similar fashion. They would be spending three weeks together. Merlin didn’t feel the need to bond just yet.
Lance clapped his hands together to get everyone’s attention and announced, “Okay, now that we’re all here, let’s get our welcoming campfire started.”
**
With Lance’s expert guidance, they managed to get a roaring campfire going in the pit area just off the pavilion that was designed especially for such events, where there were log benches and tree-stump seats set up around the fire for campers.
Percy produced a big bag of marshmallows and handed around some metal roasting sticks. Merlin took a stick and sat down on the end of a log bench. When the bag of marshmallows was passed around, he took two and speared them onto his stick. He shoved the white pillows into a flame.
“Welcome to Camp Kilgharrah!” Lance told them in a mock-official voice. “Where marshmallow-roasting is considered the number one camp sport.”
This produced a healthy round of laughs and giggles. Then Arthur said, “Merlin doesn’t roast his marshmallows. He sets them on fire.”
“I like them well-roasted,” Merlin snapped in defence, pulling his marshmallows out of the fire to blow out the flames. He flipped them over and returned them to the campfire.
“I guess burnt qualifies as well-roasted,” Arthur quipped back, making Leon and Percy laugh.
“I like ‘em that way too,” said Gwaine, giving Merlin a grin and settling down next to him, spearing a marshmallow onto a stick. He poked his marshmallow into the campfire next to Merlin’s.
Merlin smiled shyly, thankful for Gwaine’s support. He looked up across the camp fire and found Arthur glaring at him. Merlin glared back.
Oh hell, it was going to be a long three weeks.
**
The young campers had arrived and were gathered in the pavilion - thirty-six ten and eleven year olds, eighteen girls and eighteen boys.
Lance was going through the camp roster, telling the boys and girls which of the camp leaders they had been assigned to and instructing the camp leaders to guide their campers to their assigned cabin.
Mordred, Edwin, Gilli, Tristan, Owain, and Gareth were assigned to Merlin and Arthur’s group. Almost right away, the boys seemed to gravitate to one or the other - Gilli, Edwin and Mordred seemed pulled toward Merlin while Owain, Gareth and Tristan seemed drawn to Arthur. Merlin tried not to think too much about why that was - or the fact that Arthur actually looked smug over it - and, instead, guided ‘his’ boys to Cabin Four, letting Arthur follow with the other three.
The boys chose their bunks - not surprisingly, Owain, Gareth and Tristan choosing Arthur’s side and Mordred, Gilli and Edwin choosing Merlin’s side. They unpacked their belongings, putting them into the drawers and cupboards on the back wall of the cabin. Once settled in, Merlin made the suggestion that the boys in their group get to know each other. He was more than uneasy with how the kids seemed to have divided their alliances.
“They’ll be plenty of time for that,” Arthur said. “Let’s go check out the lake. Who’s with me?”
Of course, Tristan, Owain and Gareth were with Arthur, who was conveniently avoiding Merlin’s glare, and the four headed out the cabin to the lake, leaving Merlin and ‘his’ three boys behind to get to know each other.
“So you and Arthur,” said Edwin, an eleven-year old with a mop of dirty-blonde hair and bright, perceptive eyes. “You’re friends?”
“Not exactly,” Merlin replied. He took a drink from his water bottle, trying to think of a way he could explain his relationship with Arthur that did not include the words “fuck”, “bastard”, or “jackass”.
“So boyfriends then?” guessed Gilli, a chubby, excitable ten-year old.
Merlin spat out water. “What?” he spluttered. “No!”
Gilli looked nonplussed. “Oh. Sorry.”
“Maybe Merlin wants to be boyfriends with Arthur,” ten-year old little Mordred wondered and despite his attempt not to, Merlin blushed.
“No, Merlin does not,” he stated, giving the boys a stern look. How did getting-to-know-each-other turn into Merlin-wants-to-be-boyfriends-with-Arthur? How about Merlin-wants-to-strangle-Arthur-in-his-sleep? Was that on the table for consideration too?
The boys all chuckled knowingly - smartasses, Merlin thought - but they dropped the subject and each started telling something about themselves. They learned that Edwin was the oldest and the only boy in a family of five children, that Gilli was an only child whose mother spoiled him rotten and that he was prone to eating when nervous, and that Mordred, who was rather small for being ten and sometimes bullied because of it, had been adopted by a hipster couple who couldn’t have children of their own. In turn, Merlin told them that he was an only child like Gilli, that his mother was a fierce and fearsome feminist, and that he was slightly prone to accidents.
“What kind of accidents?” Gilli wanted to know.
“The kind that sometimes end up with a trip to Emergency,” Merlin replied wryly.
“What about Arthur?” Edwin queried. “What’s his deal?”
Merlin saw Gilli and Mordred’s attentions pique. He decided to keep the information straightforward and neutral. “Arthur is also an only child whose father is a wealthy businessman,” he told them, “though I haven’t the foggiest idea what the man does.” Uther Pendragon had always been a bit of a puzzle to Merlin. “Let’s see, Arthur is a star athlete and does okay in school. I guess you can say he’s pretty popular.” And he likes to kick kittens in his spare time, Merlin mentally added.
“Are you popular?” asked Mordred, his blue eyes wide.
Merlin shrugged then grinned. “I’m not unpopular,” he replied. And that was mostly true. Merlin didn’t have a huge group of friends but then neither did Arthur.
“I’m never gonna be popular,” Gilli lamented.
“Me neither,” Mordred said.
“Yeah,” echoed Edwin.
The boys looked forlorn and Merlin couldn’t help but empathize what it was like to be ten and eleven years old - awkward and ridiculous. Of course, Merlin had had Arthur Pendragon while growing up to constantly remind him - and still remind him - of how awkward and ridiculous he was, which had made Merlin that much more determined to grow out of his awkward and ridiculous phase, but he hoped these boys would understand and learn to like themselves for who they were. Still, he knew it was hard at that age.
He was about to give them a pep-talk when Arthur returned with his three boys.
“Lance is setting up the campfire,” Arthur told them. “Let’s go grab a log and Merlin here can show you how to torch some hot dogs and marshmallows.”
Arthur’s smirk was so wide Merlin was certain -and desperately hoped - his face would crack.
**
Merlin shut off the water and reached around the stall for the towel he had left on the bench.
The bloody towel was gone. And so were his clothes. The only thing that had been left behind were his flip-flops.
Fucking Arthur Pendragon.
Merlin shook the water from his hair and body and grabbed the flimsy footwear, a steady stream of curses flowing freely from his lips.
“Not funny,” he said, storming into Cabin Four, the flip-flops held to his groin in an effort to shield his privates. Merlin wasn’t about to flash his boy bits to a bunch of ten-year olds.
The boys all stared at him. Arthur, who was sitting on his bunk fully dressed, had the nerve to tip his head back and laugh. Gareth and Tristan followed.
Merlin glared at him. “You are such a pri--”
“Uh-uh-uh,” Arthur cautioned, his grin smug. “Language, Merlin.
Merlin rolled his eyes. He held his tongue but finished the word off in his head for the satisfaction and may have added an expletive adjective.
Mordred held out Merlin’s boxers. “They wanted to hide all your undershorts,” he said as Merlin dropped the flops and quickly slipped on the boxers. “But I got to them first and stuck them away.”
At least Mordred had some sense of decency.
Merlin plotted his revenge as he pulled on shorts and a t-shirt while resolving to bring his clothes and towel with him into the shower stall next time.
**
It had rained the entire morning and there was no sign of it letting up in the afternoon. The campers and their leaders were gathered in the pavilion, trying to think of something fun to do that didn’t involve getting drenched by the rain. They had spent the morning doing crafts but pretty much everyone had had their fill of that - except Gwen and Freya’s group. In fact the girls from Cabin Two had started eyeing Gwaine’s hair with a gleam in their eyes, murmuring something about ribbons and glitter.
“How about creating a time capsule?” Merlin suggested. Elena nodded excitedly.
“That’s stupid,” Arthur remarked, rolling his eyes.
Merlin crossed his arms and glared at Arthur. “It’s just stupid because I said it,” Merlin returned, annoyed.
It might have been the rain, but the two of them had been at each other since that morning. Merlin had reproached Arthur again for having to take his clothes and towel into the shower stall with him because he couldn’t trust Arthur not to coax the boys into taking them. Arthur had gone on for at least five minutes about how Merlin couldn’t take a joke. This had prompted Merlin to leave the cabin and stomp to the showers only to realize that he had forgotten his towel and his clean clothes. Not wanting to go back to the cabin to retrieve them, he had simply decided to shake himself dry and re-dress in the clothes he was wearing - which he had found missing again when he had turned off the water and reached around to get them. After some choice swear words had been uttered and Arthur - who had taken his clothes and had been waiting just outside with them, planning to give them back right away - had scolded him for using said choice swear words while boys were present, Merlin had yanked his clothes out of Arthur’s grasp, unmindful of being stark naked, had hurriedly slipped on the sleep pants, had called Arthur several unsavoury names then had stomped back to the cabin, the drizzling rain turning into a downpour halfway back.
Arthur raised a cocky eyebrow. “Well, if the glove fits...”
“Oh, that’s original,” Merlin scoffed, his anger building. Like father, like son. “And it’s shoe, Arthur. Shoe. Your dad never gets it right!”
Arthur’s eyes darkened. “My father has nothing to do with this,” he said. He took a step forward into Merlin’s personal space and glowered, his nostrils flaring. Merlin knew that look. It was Arthur’s arrogant, challenging “what are you going to do about it, Merlin?” look and Merlin hated it. It made him want to punch Arthur in the face.
“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” Lance interjected, stepping between them, attempting to stem the tide. “You guys need to just chill.”
The two continued to glare at each other. Merlin was aware that the others were watching them, leaders and campers both, wondering how this was going to play out. He really didn’t want to showcase their drama in front of everyone, especially the kids, so Merlin decided he would be the bigger person and stepped back.
There was a glint in Arthur’s eyes that suggested he felt he had won the battle but then Lance said, “I think a time capsule is a great idea.”
Everyone nodded and murmured in agreement and Arthur’s smug expression turned to one of mild defeat. Merlin allowed himself to celebrate inwardly. For once, he had actually achieved victory - okay, it was a small victory, but a victory nonetheless - over Arthur Pendragon. He supposed it almost made up for his shitty morning and having not yet been able to find a way to strangle Arthur in his sleep without notice.
**
It was a bright, sunny day and they were heading down to the lake toward the canoes when Gilli suddenly stopped in his tracks, causing Merlin to bump into him.
“I’m not going,” Gilli announced, crossing his arms and planting his feet firmly to the ground.
“It’s all right,” Merlin tried to soothe the boy. “There are life jackets. You’ll be safe.”
Merlin really wasn’t too keen himself on going canoeing and he wondered who he was trying to convince. But Lance had said they’d be wearing life jackets and had reassured Merlin that the canoes did not tip easily so...
“Don’t care. Not going,” Gilli insisted stubbornly and Merlin sighed.
It had apparently come to Arthur’s attention that Gilli and Merlin had not followed them down to the lake and Merlin saw him, accompanied by Gwaine, jogging back up toward them.
“What’s up?” Arthur asked sharply, giving Gilli then Merlin a look.
“Gilli doesn’t want to go canoeing,” Merlin answered.
“Why not?”
“I just don’t,” Gilli said and Merlin could see the blush creeping over the kids chubby cheeks. He understood that Gilli was afraid and he really hoped Arthur wouldn’t make a big deal of it.
Arthur scrutinized Gilli for a moment, trying to read the kid. Merlin started working himself up, fully prepared to defend the boy and his fears but then Arthur said, “Fine. You don’t have to come.” He tossed Merlin a brief look. “But Merlin’s gonna have to stay behind with you.”
This happened to suit Merlin just fine, but he gave Gwaine a shrug nonetheless when he tossed Merlin a look of sympathy as he and Arthur trotted back down to the lake.
“I’m sorry,” Gilli said and Merlin could see his lips twitching as though he were about to cry.
Merlin put an arm around the boy’s shoulder. “That’s okay,” he said. “I really don’t like canoeing much anyway.”
“Honest?”
Merlin smiled, leading Gilli back to their cabin. “Honest.”
**
The camp cook was off two evenings during the week, which meant that one of the groups had to fill in on kitchen duty for the evening meal on those days. Lance had devised a schedule and Cabin Four was on kitchen duty the first week on the second day the camp cook was off. Arthur and Merlin and the six boys stood in the mess hall kitchen, none of them looking like they had a clue as to what to do.
Merlin poked his head into the large refrigerator and looked at its contents. There were all kinds of vegetables and several heads of lettuce for a fresh salad. There was a large bag of what looked like ground up beef and there was a big block of cheese. He found penne pasta and cans of tomato sauce in the pantry and there were bags of fresh rolls.
He gathered the various ingredients onto the island counter, feeling quite proud of himself. The boys stared at the food items while Arthur gaped at him.
“So what are we supposed to do with that?” Arthur asked.
Merlin rolled his eyes. He thought it was pretty obvious. “We’re going to make cheesy pasta,” he said, pointing at the penne, beef, cheese and cans of sauce. “And a salad,” he added, gesturing at the vegetables.
Arthur nodded. “Okay. Have you ever done this before?”
“You mean cook? Yes.”
Arthur cocked an eyebrow in disbelief.
“I’m pretty sure I’ve cooked more than you,” Merlin said. “I don’t have butler at home who does everything for me.”
The mention of a butler, of course, got the boys going and asking Arthur all kinds of questions which Arthur probably didn’t want to answer. Merlin knew it irritated Arthur whenever someone goaded him about having a butler and being pampered but, really, it was time Merlin got something over on Arthur Pendragon.
Merlin delegated everyone to a duty. Arthur was in charge of cooking the ground beef and penne pasta with help from Tristan and Owain. Gareth and Edwin were in charge of washing the heads of lettuce and helping to cut vegetables with Merlin, while Mordred and Gilli were in charge of grating the cheese. Merlin thought Arthur looked rather smug about ‘cooking’ even though Merlin had gotten out the pans and had carefully instructed him on what to do. Seriously, if Arthur didn’t have Geoffrey (the butler), Merlin was sure he would have expired long ago.
Merlin was slicing cucumbers for the salad and keeping an eye on Mordred as the kid ran a chunk of cheese across the grater. He was just about to tell Mordred to watch his fingers as the grater was sharp when his own knife slipped, slicing across his middle finger.
Merlin stared at the blood gushing from the cut (he had felt it cut pretty deep) and felt the blood drain from his face. He blinked, trying to focus, but his head felt light and there were black dots dancing in front of his eyes.
“Whoa...” he heard Arthur saying as his body slid to the floor.
The next thing he saw was Arthur’s fingers being snapped in front of his face and Arthur asking, “You with us?”
“W-what happened?” Merlin asked, his vision slowly coming into focus.
“You cut yourself,” Arthur said.
Merlin took stock of his surroundings. He was in the kitchen of the camp mess hall. On the floor. A kitchen towel was wrapped around his hand and he could see blood seeping through. Arthur was crouched on the floor in front of him, his face showing a mixture of annoyance and worry? - no, it couldn’t be worry, Merlin thought - and there were six pairs of anxious eyes trained on him.
“Owain, go get Lance,” Arthur instructed. “Looks like Merlin’s gonna have to take a trip to Emergency.”
“I do?”
Arthur nodded. “Pretty sure you need stitches, mate.”
Damn. He must have a cut it deep.
“Wow,” Gilli suddenly commented. “You were sure right when you said you were accident-prone!”
Arthur burst out laughing and the boys quickly joined in. Even Merlin had to laugh, if only to take his mind off the fact that his finger was gushing blood, making him light-headed.
They were all still laughing when Owain returned with Lance, who looked at the group of them like they were insane. Arthur somehow managed to contain himself just long enough to hand off an hysterically giggling Merlin into Lance’s care before getting caught up once again in laughter.
**
Three hours and four stitches in his finger later, Merlin returned with Lance to the camp. The camp leaders were around the campfire, the young campers having already settled into their cabins for the evening.
“Been here four days and already Merlin has taken his first trip to Emergency,” Arthur commented when Lance and Merlin appeared. “Must be a record.”
“First trip?” Elena queried.
“Oh, they’ll probably be more,” Arthur told her, rolling his eyes skyward. “Merlin is a bit accident-prone.”
Elena tilted her head as if to say she understood and Merlin fully believed Elena and he were kindred spirits as far as proneness to accidents were concerned. Still, he gave Arthur a look that conveyed he was less than pleased with his goading. His finger hurt and the stitches were already itching.
He planned to head to the cabin for bed so he could put the slightly disastrous day behind him. He turned and Arthur called out, “Oh, by the way? Dinner was awesome. The boys and I are brilliant!”
Arthur barked out a laugh, and was joined by Leon and Percy, when Merlin flipped him off with his newly stitched and bandaged middle finger.
**
Mordred’s big blue eyes trailed up the twenty-five foot climbing wall and Merlin heard the kid audibly gulp. “You’re coming up with me, right?”
“Yeah, yeah,” Merlin said as Lance gave his safety harness a final tug. “It’ll be fine,” he soothed, trying to get his own nerves under control. He figured it would not be good to freak out in front of Mordred who was counting on him for support. “Just one step at a time.”
Up the centre wall section they went, Merlin focused on guiding and encouraging Mordred who seemed to be gaining confidence with each step.
“This is great!” Mordred expressed excitedly when they reached the top. Apparently, he had gotten over his fear of climbing.
Merlin gripped the top of the wall and mumbled a response. He could see the expanse of woods over the top of the wall and quickly closed his eyes. He would not look down, he would not look down, he would not look down.
He heard movement beside him. “Gonna climb down now,” Mordred said. “Coming?”
Merlin nodded. But he kept his lips pressed together and his eyes shut. He tried to move but found he couldn’t.
Bloody hell.
“Merlin?” he heard Gwaine call up. “You coming down?”
“No,” Merlin called back. He wanted to. He really, really wanted to, but his feet refused to budge.
A pause. “No?”
“No.”
“Oh, for crying out loud!” he heard Arthur exclaim from the ground. Merlin could hear the exasperation in his tone from twenty-five feet up. “Suppose we’re gonna have to go up and rescue the idiot.”
Merlin imagined that the boys from his group and Lance and Gwaine’s group, along with Arthur, Lance, and Gwaine - thankfully, it was only their two groups at the climbing wall at the moment - were all staring up at him and thinking he was a right idiot but Merlin did not care to open his eyes to find out. Instead, he clung to the wall and waited as he heard the sounds of harnesses being snapped into place and then hands and feet scrabbling for purchase on the wall, climbing.
Gwaine reached the top first, coming up on Merlin’s right side, Arthur following on his left.
“Alright mate?”
Merlin peeked an eye open and saw Gwaine grinning at him.
“No,” Merlin said and heard Arthur huff out a laugh on the other side of him.
“Well, don’t worry,” Gwaine said gallantly, giving Merlin a wink. “We’re gonna get you down.”
“Okay.” Merlin opened his other eye and kept his gaze firmly set on Gwaine’s grinning face. He knew he’d be taking the piss from Arthur later on for getting stuck up on the wall and needing to be rescued but right at the moment all Merlin wanted was for his feet to touch ground. So much for being brave for little Mordred.
Gwaine put a reassuring hand on the small of his back and encouraged him to begin the climb down. Merlin willed his feet to move and it took him three tries before he tentatively placed a foot in the first hole, Gwaine offering continuous encouragement while Arthur huffed impatiently and with exasperation.
Merlin took another tentative three-tries step down then found his feet suddenly knocked out from under him by a swift kick-sweep.
“What the hell, Pendragon!” he heard Gwaine yell as Merlin slipped down the twenty-five foot wall supported by his safety harness.
“Quickest way to get him down,” he heard Arthur reply dryly.
Lance grabbed him as soon as Merlin reached the ground and began unbuckling his safety harness. “Moment of panic,” Lance said, seeing that Merlin was shaking. “Happens to everyone.”
Maybe so, Merlin thought, but not everyone had to deal with a maniacal mad man whose goal in life was to terrorize and torment Merlin by doing things like purposely making him fall off a climbing wall!
Mordred was at his side, looking worried. Merlin attempted to shrug it off like it was no big deal for the kid’s sake but he didn’t think it came off looking very convincing, especially since he was still shaking badly.
Gwaine and Arthur had reached the ground and were unhooking their safety harnesses. Merlin turned to Gwaine. “Thanks,” he said sincerely. It had been really gallant of Gwaine to have come to his rescue. Merlin then turned to Arthur and said, “I hate you.”
He stormed past a smirking Arthur, the urge to punch him so strong that Merlin had to shove his hands in his shorts pockets to stop himself from striking out at the prat.
Fucking Arthur Pendragon.
**
They were playing a game of Truth or Dare. All the young campers were in their cabins, though probably not asleep, while the camp leaders were relaxing around the campfire.
“Merlin’s turn,” said Gwaine. “Truth or Dare?”
“Truth,” Merlin said automatically. Something about the way Gwaine was looking at him made choosing Dare seem unwise.
Arthur rolled his eyes or at least Merlin assumed he did, as he wasn’t actually able to see the eye roll with only the light of the campfire. “Of course, you’d pick Truth,” he scoffed at Merlin. “You’re too much of a girl to take a risk. No offence,” he directed at Gwen and the other girls.
Merlin gave Gwen what he hoped was a look of apology then said to Arthur, “I’m not a girl, you prat. Besides, Truth is taking a risk.”
“Oh, you’ve got some deep, dark secret to tell us, do you?” Arthur niggled. He rolled his eyes - again mostly in Merlin’s imagination but he was ninety-nine percent certain that it actually happened. Arthur Pendragon was nothing if predictable. “Yeah, I bet your Truth is gonna end up being lame and boring.”
Merlin stewed. Why did Arthur always have to turn something fun into something confrontational? They couldn’t even play Truth or Dare without the bastard niggling Merlin before he even got to tell a damn Truth!
“Gwen picked Truth,” Merlin pointed out. “And I didn’t hear you giving her a hard time about it.”
“Yeah, because Gwen isn’t lame and boring,” Arthur returned with a smirk and Merlin had the sudden urge to smack Arthur upside the head. In fact, it was a recurring urge that was getting harder and harder to ignore.
“Arthur,” Gwen cautioned, shooting Merlin a sympathetic look. “Merlin can choose whatever he wants.”
Arthur shrugged to concede but Merlin could see the challenge in his eyes.
“Fine,” Merlin said. “I’ll pick Dare.” He tossed Arthur a steely look to return his challenge. “Happy?”
The two stared each other down until Gwaine said, “Okay. Dare it is then.” He rubbed his hands together, grinning mischievously.
“You have to choose one of us guys and kiss him - with tongue,” Leon piped up unexpectedly.
They all turned to stare at Leon.
“What? Perce had to bench press Arthur and I had to run around cabin six with my boxer shorts on my head,” Leon immediately defended.
Everyone seemed to consider this for a moment. Then Lance said, “Fair enough.”
So Merlin’s dare was to pick one of the guys here and French kiss him basically. Great. He looked around the campfire, purposely by-passing Arthur with his gaze. There was no way Merlin was going to kiss Arthur. He’d kiss a donkey with bad breath first.
“Pick me,” Gwaine said under the cover of a cough, which made everybody but Arthur laugh. It seemed to Merlin that Arthur looked a tad constipated - not that he was looking, mind you, because he wasn’t.
Merlin grinned and let his gaze come to rest on Gwaine. Kissing Gwaine - with tongue - would not be much of a hardship really. Gwaine was good-looking. And hot. And he had been flirting with Merlin since they had arrived at the camp. Hell, he was flirting with Merlin now.
So Merlin got up from his tree stump and crossed over to Gwaine, who was still grinning and waiting. There were deep breaths of anticipation as he leaned forward and touched his mouth to Gwaine’s, his lips parted slightly to allow Gwaine’s tongue to snake into his mouth and slide against his own in a tango.
He heard Leon hoot and Percy holler while Lance let out a low whistle. Gwen, Freya and Elena all squealed in delight and Merlin heard Isolde give an impressive wolf whistle. Even Mithian and Sophia seemed entertained and Merlin had to wonder what it was with girls and boys kissing boys as Gwaine plunged his tongue further down Merlin’s throat. For once, Arthur was silent, and if it looked like he was scowling and pouting, Merlin was sure it was only the trick of the light from the campfire.
“Wow. I think I need a cigarette,” Elena expressed when Merlin was finally able to disengage his tongue and mouth from Gwaine’s. This made the girls giggle and Percy tease, “Me too.”
Gwaine licked his lips, his predatory gaze following Merlin back to his tree stump seat. Merlin felt the blush settle on his cheekbones and hoped it wasn’t too visible in the firelight. As far as kisses went, that one had been pretty fucking awesome. He picked up a stick and poked at the fire, aware that Gwaine was still staring and grinning at him.
“Okay, Athur’s turn now,” Gwen said gleefully, still high from boy-on-boy liplock. “Truth or Dare?”
Attentions were turned toward Arthur who appeared to be considering seriously. He then looked Merlin straight in the eye and cocked a half-grin. “Truth,” he said very deliberately and very smugly.
Later, Merlin would contemplate whether he could get away with smothering Arthur with a pillow in his sleep.
**
PART II
GENRE: Modern AU
RATING: PG-15 (for allusions to the two Os: oral sex and orgasm)
WORD COUNT: ~14k
KNIGHTS SHOULD NEVER PLAY WITH DRAGONS
Merlin hated Arthur Pendragon. He really, really did.
Arthur was the reason they were both sitting in the principal’s office at the moment, Merlin with an ice pack pressed to his left eye to keep it from getting any more swollen. His nose had finally stopped gushing blood but his t-shirt and jeans were splattered with dark red - no amount of expert laundering on his mother’s part was going to get those stains out. His only solace was that Arthur was currently contending with his own split and bloody lip as well as red and sore knuckles from where his fist had made contact with Merlin’s face. Ha.
It seemed that Arthur was always the reason for Merlin’s woes and it had started when they were eight years old. Merlin could remember it vividly. They had been young boys in Mrs. Collins’ class and each student had had to present a medieval studies project. Arthur, in that cocky, arrogant way he had had even as a boy, had crafted an elaborate stone castle complete with a complement of sword-wielding knights ready to defend their kingdom. Of course, Merlin would admit only under thumb screw torture that he had been impressed by Arthur’s project at the time, even if everyone had known that Arthur’s family butler had probably helped him with most of it. With his own mum’s limited help, Merlin had crafted a magnificent dragon which “breathed” paper fire when its tail was pulled that had managed to wow most of Merlin’s classmates.
But not Arthur Pendragon. Arthur had scoffed and had called Merlin’s dragon “stupid”, claiming it had nothing to do with the medieval period, even as Merlin had vociferously explained that both magic and mythical creatures featured prominently during medieval times (at least that was what his mother had told him). Arthur had stubbornly maintained the stupidity of Merlin’s dragon and Merlin had had no choice but to respond in kind by telling Arthur that his dragon would smite all of Arthur’s knights in a millisecond and had then proceeded to follow it up with an effective demonstration.
Shoving had ensued then more forceful pushing about, and when the smoke had finally cleared, both Merlin’s and Arthur’s projects had been totalled along with a couple of classmates’ projects that had unfortunately gotten caught up in the “battle”. Merlin and Arthur had been sent to the principal’s office, the principal had summoned their respective parents, and each of the boys had gotten a stern lecture from said parents in the car ride home and for at least an hour afterward. Merlin had never forgiven Arthur for his disparaging words about his dragon or for ruining his project and he strongly suspected that Arthur felt the same, though Merlin would continue to insist that Arthur had started it.
Now nearly ten years later, the fight had started when Merlin had said something - he couldn’t even remember what now but he was sure it had been brilliant - that Arthur had apparently not taken very kindly to, which was really nothing new as far as their interactions generally went. There had been indignant shouts, verbal insults and initial pushing and shoving. Firsts had then gone a-flying, Arthur’s connecting with Merlin’s nose and eye and Merlin’s somehow managing to land on Arthur’s stupid pouty boy lips.
Mr. Gaius, Avalon High’s school principal, was sitting at his desk across from them, his hands steepled in front of him, his eyebrow raised a notch, as he regarded the two of them sternly.
Merlin shifted the ice pack and squirmed in his seat. He knew this was not going to bode well for them. Both of their school records were littered with three to five day suspensions - every blasted one of Merlin’s could be blamed on Arthur - and Merlin was sure that this time, despite having only a week left in their final school year, they would be expelled. A heavy sigh escaped from his lips at this thought, causing Mr. Gaius’ eyebrow to raise another notch. His mum was going to kill him. And it was all stupid Arthur Pendragon’s fault. Again. Fuck.
“Your father and mother will be joining us shortly,” Mr. Gaius finally said and both of the boys understood that this meant Arthur’s father and Merlin’s mother - each of them were being raised by single parents - had been called and were on their way to the school. “And I dare say I am finding myself at a loss as to what to tell them.” He gave the boys a look that was meant to convey displeasure and exasperation and Merlin couldn’t help squirming again. He really didn’t like disappointing Mr. Gaius.
“You boys have a long history together,” the principal continued. “A history that seems to be comprised mostly of fist-fights and earned suspensions. With the school year near end, I do not really see the point in suspending you.”
Fuck. They were going to be expelled.
Mr. Gaius relaxed his hands and leaned back in his chair. “At the same time, expelling you does not seem to be a sensible option either. I fear something more radical is required.”
More radical than being expelled? thought Merlin.
“Since I doubt neither of your parents would agree that sending you to military school would be beneficial,” said Mr. Gaius and Merlin gulped. “I am forced to suggest a situation in which cooperation and compromise is going to be needed.” Huh? “But I will explain that once your parents get here.”
As if on cue, the voice of Uther Pendragon could be heard coming from the outer office.
“This is the third incident this year, Hunith. It would seem that you need to get a better handle on your son.”
“I need to get a better handle on my son?” came Hunith Emrys’ indignant retort.
Merlin slid a glance at Arthur. Arthur’s head was down, his eyes boring a hole in the floor of the principal’s office. He didn’t bother to look up when his father and Merlin’s mother finally came through the door. Typical, Merlin thought.
“Oh Merlin!” his mother gushed as soon as she saw the ice pack pressed to his eye. She pulled it away gently, assessing the damage, and frowned. Hunith Emrys shot a glare at Arthur as she took the seat next to Merlin, placing a comforting hand on his arm.
Uther Pendragon sat down in the chair next to his son, pointedly ignoring the tsks and glares from Merlin’s mother. He looked at Mr. Gaius and said, “I demand to know what this hooligan has done this time to coax Arthur into behaving dishonourably.”
The grip his mother had on his arm tightened. “Oh, you did not just call my son a hooligan, Uther Pendragon.”
Merlin smirked inwardly. His mother, despite her small frame and generally unassuming demeanour, was a force to be reckoned with. Surely, Uther Pendragon would have learned that over the span of ten years. This was not the first time Arthur’s father and Merlin’s mother had had some kind of face-off. Besides, the nerve of the man to suggest that Merlin had coaxed Arthur into anything, dishonourable or otherwise. It was generally Arthur who started all things that eventually went south.
“If the glove fits,” Uther commented dryly and was saved from Hunith’s further fuming by a wise interjection from Gaius.
“Hunith, Uther,” he refereed, demanding their attention. “I have a proposal that I want to outline to all of you.”
The four of them listened as Gaius outlined his proposal: that Arthur and Merlin spend three weeks of their last summer before going to university as cooperative leaders at some summer youth camp called Camp Kilgharrah. The idea was for them to present themselves as role models to a group of ten and eleven year old boys and work together to encourage positive social interaction and teamwork.
“So what do you think?” Gaius asked brightly when he was finished.
Hunith, Uther, Arthur and Merlin all stared at him. Uther was the first to break the silence.
“Are you mad, Gaius?” he asked, and really they were all thinking the same thing. “I do not see how this is a rational solution to the problem. Why should Arthur team up with this--” Hunith shot him a glare “-Merlin to babysit some snotty kids at summer camp?”
Gaius gave a wry smile. “Because if the boys choose not to,” Mr. Gaius explained patiently, “I will have no recourse but to press charges against them for the latest trouble they’ve caused in my school.”
Hunith Emrys gasped. Merlin tried to stave off hyperventilation. Arthur remained stoic but there was a catch in his breath that belied inner panic. It was left to Uther Pendragon to calmly appeal to reason.
“Surely, you would not--”
“Surely, I would,” Gaius replied, meeting Uther Pendragon’s firm gaze.
Merlin had to admire old Gaius. Not many people challenged Uther Pendragon (his mother notwithstanding, of course) who was known for his stubborn persistence and cut-throat business tactics. Even if Merlin did agree with Uther that the principal was probably mad, he had to give old Gaius credit. The man clearly had balls.
Uther seemed to roll this around in his mind some then said, “Very well. You can expect Arthur’s full cooperation. Please have the details sent to me via my executive assistant.” He extracted a card from the inside pocket of his suit jacket and placed it on the principal’s desk.
It seemed to Merlin that Arthur’s cooperation was less than ‘full’, if the sour look on his face was any indication, but like a good son, he nodded at Mr. Gaius indicating his cooperation and consent. Arthur then rose from his seat after his father and the two Pendragon men left the office, leaving Merlin and Hunith still gaping like fish.
“Are you sure about this, Gaius?” Hunith finally asked. The principal and his mother were old friends.
Gaius rested folded hands on his desk. “Hunith, the boys have been at this since they were children,” he said. “They’re almost eighteen and grown up now. It’s gone past ridiculous. They’ve got to learn to put this feud, or whatever it is, behind them.” He gave Merlin a stern look but Merlin could see the underlying kindness in his eyes. He understood that Gaius was trying to help him - help both Merlin and Arthur. “So, Merlin, I am hoping you’ll give this a try?”
Merlin nodded, albeit reluctantly. It would definitely be a challenge. Merlin and Arthur did not play well together - that was a proven fact. How they would make it through the summer without killing each other was anybody’s guess, but if Arthur was going to go through with it (so what if Uther was making him?) then he would. Merlin wasn’t about to let Arthur Pendragon get one up on him.
Besides, Merlin really did not want to go to jail.
**
Merlin and Arthur had two weeks after graduation all to themselves before they had to pack up and go to Camp Kilgharrah (really, what kind of name was that?) where they would spend the next three agonizing weeks as camp co-leaders or whatever the hell it was they were supposed to be.
Merlin’s mum drove him to the camp the third weekend of July for ‘orientation’ which basically meant meeting the other camp leaders and going over basic rules and whatnot. Merlin was disconcerted to find Arthur Pendragon had already arrived before him and had had the chance to make nice with the other leaders. He hoped Arthur hadn’t run his mouth off about anything.
Lance du Lac, who turned out to be Head Camp Leader, was the first to greet him.
“Hi, Merlin,” Lance welcomed. “Let’s get you settled in your cabin first and then you can meet everyone.”
Merlin knew Lance somewhat. Lance had graduated from Avalon two years before him and was now at uni. He and Merlin hadn’t exactly hung out in the same crowd but Lance had started dating one of Merlin’s friends, Gwen Thomas, in his last year at Avalon High - they were still dating - and so Merlin had had occasion to interact with him. Lance was a nice guy who took responsibility easily and seriously and Merlin was not surprised that he had been appointed leader of the leaders.
Merlin’s cabin turned out to be a communal cabin - Cabin Four - that was to be the living space for six campers and their two assigned camp leaders for the next three weeks. He saw Arthur’s duffle bag (he recognized the familiar monogrammed logo) claiming one of the bottom bunks of a set of four on one side of the cabin. Merlin threw his own bag on a bottom bunk on the opposite side, wishing that there was more space between the bunk sets. It seemed way too easy from him to be able to choke Arthur in his sleep.
Resolving to unpack later, Merlin followed Lance to the camp pavilion where the other camp leaders were hanging out.
“Hey everybody, this is Merlin,” Lance said by way of introduction, leaving the others to welcome Merlin on their own.
There was Leon and Percy, who had just graduated from Mercia High School and would be going to Camelot University in the fall. They were best friends and camp co-leaders who would be supervising the campers in Cabin Five. Both were tall and friendly; they reminded Merlin of big, happy, tail-wagging dogs - a St. Bernard (Leon) and a Great Dane (Percy). There was Gwaine, who had just finished his first year at Albion University and was apparently a part-time model (Merlin’s interest piqued), paired with Lance in Cabin One. Gwaine gave him what could only be described as a smouldering look and smile and Merlin found himself blushing.
He knew Gwen and Freya, of course, from school. Gwen had just graduated along with Merlin while Freya would be going into her final year come September. This was Gwen and Freya’s second year as leaders at the camp and were assigned to their requested cabin, Cabin Two (which was conveniently next to Lance’s cabin, Merlin thought). There was also Elena and Isolde, who were friends and going into their final year at Mercia. Merlin thought they made an interesting pair. Isolde was tanned and athletic-looking, her hair pulled into a long neat braid that hung down her back. Elena was - for the lack of a better term - a mess, gangly and ungraceful, tripping over her feet as she welcomed Merlin with an exuberant ‘hello’. Mithian and Sophia were first years at Camelot University and Merlin guessed that they had probably been very popular in high school and were most likely just as popular at uni. Both were pretty and appeared friendly enough, even if their smiles didn’t quite reach their eyes, and they seemed to be catching the attention of Leon and Percy, whom Merlin supposed would likely be spending a lot of time at Cabin Six.
And then there was Arthur, of course.
Arthur gave him a stiff nod and Merlin returned it in similar fashion. They would be spending three weeks together. Merlin didn’t feel the need to bond just yet.
Lance clapped his hands together to get everyone’s attention and announced, “Okay, now that we’re all here, let’s get our welcoming campfire started.”
**
With Lance’s expert guidance, they managed to get a roaring campfire going in the pit area just off the pavilion that was designed especially for such events, where there were log benches and tree-stump seats set up around the fire for campers.
Percy produced a big bag of marshmallows and handed around some metal roasting sticks. Merlin took a stick and sat down on the end of a log bench. When the bag of marshmallows was passed around, he took two and speared them onto his stick. He shoved the white pillows into a flame.
“Welcome to Camp Kilgharrah!” Lance told them in a mock-official voice. “Where marshmallow-roasting is considered the number one camp sport.”
This produced a healthy round of laughs and giggles. Then Arthur said, “Merlin doesn’t roast his marshmallows. He sets them on fire.”
“I like them well-roasted,” Merlin snapped in defence, pulling his marshmallows out of the fire to blow out the flames. He flipped them over and returned them to the campfire.
“I guess burnt qualifies as well-roasted,” Arthur quipped back, making Leon and Percy laugh.
“I like ‘em that way too,” said Gwaine, giving Merlin a grin and settling down next to him, spearing a marshmallow onto a stick. He poked his marshmallow into the campfire next to Merlin’s.
Merlin smiled shyly, thankful for Gwaine’s support. He looked up across the camp fire and found Arthur glaring at him. Merlin glared back.
Oh hell, it was going to be a long three weeks.
**
The young campers had arrived and were gathered in the pavilion - thirty-six ten and eleven year olds, eighteen girls and eighteen boys.
Lance was going through the camp roster, telling the boys and girls which of the camp leaders they had been assigned to and instructing the camp leaders to guide their campers to their assigned cabin.
Mordred, Edwin, Gilli, Tristan, Owain, and Gareth were assigned to Merlin and Arthur’s group. Almost right away, the boys seemed to gravitate to one or the other - Gilli, Edwin and Mordred seemed pulled toward Merlin while Owain, Gareth and Tristan seemed drawn to Arthur. Merlin tried not to think too much about why that was - or the fact that Arthur actually looked smug over it - and, instead, guided ‘his’ boys to Cabin Four, letting Arthur follow with the other three.
The boys chose their bunks - not surprisingly, Owain, Gareth and Tristan choosing Arthur’s side and Mordred, Gilli and Edwin choosing Merlin’s side. They unpacked their belongings, putting them into the drawers and cupboards on the back wall of the cabin. Once settled in, Merlin made the suggestion that the boys in their group get to know each other. He was more than uneasy with how the kids seemed to have divided their alliances.
“They’ll be plenty of time for that,” Arthur said. “Let’s go check out the lake. Who’s with me?”
Of course, Tristan, Owain and Gareth were with Arthur, who was conveniently avoiding Merlin’s glare, and the four headed out the cabin to the lake, leaving Merlin and ‘his’ three boys behind to get to know each other.
“So you and Arthur,” said Edwin, an eleven-year old with a mop of dirty-blonde hair and bright, perceptive eyes. “You’re friends?”
“Not exactly,” Merlin replied. He took a drink from his water bottle, trying to think of a way he could explain his relationship with Arthur that did not include the words “fuck”, “bastard”, or “jackass”.
“So boyfriends then?” guessed Gilli, a chubby, excitable ten-year old.
Merlin spat out water. “What?” he spluttered. “No!”
Gilli looked nonplussed. “Oh. Sorry.”
“Maybe Merlin wants to be boyfriends with Arthur,” ten-year old little Mordred wondered and despite his attempt not to, Merlin blushed.
“No, Merlin does not,” he stated, giving the boys a stern look. How did getting-to-know-each-other turn into Merlin-wants-to-be-boyfriends-with-Arthur? How about Merlin-wants-to-strangle-Arthur-in-his-sleep? Was that on the table for consideration too?
The boys all chuckled knowingly - smartasses, Merlin thought - but they dropped the subject and each started telling something about themselves. They learned that Edwin was the oldest and the only boy in a family of five children, that Gilli was an only child whose mother spoiled him rotten and that he was prone to eating when nervous, and that Mordred, who was rather small for being ten and sometimes bullied because of it, had been adopted by a hipster couple who couldn’t have children of their own. In turn, Merlin told them that he was an only child like Gilli, that his mother was a fierce and fearsome feminist, and that he was slightly prone to accidents.
“What kind of accidents?” Gilli wanted to know.
“The kind that sometimes end up with a trip to Emergency,” Merlin replied wryly.
“What about Arthur?” Edwin queried. “What’s his deal?”
Merlin saw Gilli and Mordred’s attentions pique. He decided to keep the information straightforward and neutral. “Arthur is also an only child whose father is a wealthy businessman,” he told them, “though I haven’t the foggiest idea what the man does.” Uther Pendragon had always been a bit of a puzzle to Merlin. “Let’s see, Arthur is a star athlete and does okay in school. I guess you can say he’s pretty popular.” And he likes to kick kittens in his spare time, Merlin mentally added.
“Are you popular?” asked Mordred, his blue eyes wide.
Merlin shrugged then grinned. “I’m not unpopular,” he replied. And that was mostly true. Merlin didn’t have a huge group of friends but then neither did Arthur.
“I’m never gonna be popular,” Gilli lamented.
“Me neither,” Mordred said.
“Yeah,” echoed Edwin.
The boys looked forlorn and Merlin couldn’t help but empathize what it was like to be ten and eleven years old - awkward and ridiculous. Of course, Merlin had had Arthur Pendragon while growing up to constantly remind him - and still remind him - of how awkward and ridiculous he was, which had made Merlin that much more determined to grow out of his awkward and ridiculous phase, but he hoped these boys would understand and learn to like themselves for who they were. Still, he knew it was hard at that age.
He was about to give them a pep-talk when Arthur returned with his three boys.
“Lance is setting up the campfire,” Arthur told them. “Let’s go grab a log and Merlin here can show you how to torch some hot dogs and marshmallows.”
Arthur’s smirk was so wide Merlin was certain -and desperately hoped - his face would crack.
**
Merlin shut off the water and reached around the stall for the towel he had left on the bench.
The bloody towel was gone. And so were his clothes. The only thing that had been left behind were his flip-flops.
Fucking Arthur Pendragon.
Merlin shook the water from his hair and body and grabbed the flimsy footwear, a steady stream of curses flowing freely from his lips.
“Not funny,” he said, storming into Cabin Four, the flip-flops held to his groin in an effort to shield his privates. Merlin wasn’t about to flash his boy bits to a bunch of ten-year olds.
The boys all stared at him. Arthur, who was sitting on his bunk fully dressed, had the nerve to tip his head back and laugh. Gareth and Tristan followed.
Merlin glared at him. “You are such a pri--”
“Uh-uh-uh,” Arthur cautioned, his grin smug. “Language, Merlin.
Merlin rolled his eyes. He held his tongue but finished the word off in his head for the satisfaction and may have added an expletive adjective.
Mordred held out Merlin’s boxers. “They wanted to hide all your undershorts,” he said as Merlin dropped the flops and quickly slipped on the boxers. “But I got to them first and stuck them away.”
At least Mordred had some sense of decency.
Merlin plotted his revenge as he pulled on shorts and a t-shirt while resolving to bring his clothes and towel with him into the shower stall next time.
**
It had rained the entire morning and there was no sign of it letting up in the afternoon. The campers and their leaders were gathered in the pavilion, trying to think of something fun to do that didn’t involve getting drenched by the rain. They had spent the morning doing crafts but pretty much everyone had had their fill of that - except Gwen and Freya’s group. In fact the girls from Cabin Two had started eyeing Gwaine’s hair with a gleam in their eyes, murmuring something about ribbons and glitter.
“How about creating a time capsule?” Merlin suggested. Elena nodded excitedly.
“That’s stupid,” Arthur remarked, rolling his eyes.
Merlin crossed his arms and glared at Arthur. “It’s just stupid because I said it,” Merlin returned, annoyed.
It might have been the rain, but the two of them had been at each other since that morning. Merlin had reproached Arthur again for having to take his clothes and towel into the shower stall with him because he couldn’t trust Arthur not to coax the boys into taking them. Arthur had gone on for at least five minutes about how Merlin couldn’t take a joke. This had prompted Merlin to leave the cabin and stomp to the showers only to realize that he had forgotten his towel and his clean clothes. Not wanting to go back to the cabin to retrieve them, he had simply decided to shake himself dry and re-dress in the clothes he was wearing - which he had found missing again when he had turned off the water and reached around to get them. After some choice swear words had been uttered and Arthur - who had taken his clothes and had been waiting just outside with them, planning to give them back right away - had scolded him for using said choice swear words while boys were present, Merlin had yanked his clothes out of Arthur’s grasp, unmindful of being stark naked, had hurriedly slipped on the sleep pants, had called Arthur several unsavoury names then had stomped back to the cabin, the drizzling rain turning into a downpour halfway back.
Arthur raised a cocky eyebrow. “Well, if the glove fits...”
“Oh, that’s original,” Merlin scoffed, his anger building. Like father, like son. “And it’s shoe, Arthur. Shoe. Your dad never gets it right!”
Arthur’s eyes darkened. “My father has nothing to do with this,” he said. He took a step forward into Merlin’s personal space and glowered, his nostrils flaring. Merlin knew that look. It was Arthur’s arrogant, challenging “what are you going to do about it, Merlin?” look and Merlin hated it. It made him want to punch Arthur in the face.
“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” Lance interjected, stepping between them, attempting to stem the tide. “You guys need to just chill.”
The two continued to glare at each other. Merlin was aware that the others were watching them, leaders and campers both, wondering how this was going to play out. He really didn’t want to showcase their drama in front of everyone, especially the kids, so Merlin decided he would be the bigger person and stepped back.
There was a glint in Arthur’s eyes that suggested he felt he had won the battle but then Lance said, “I think a time capsule is a great idea.”
Everyone nodded and murmured in agreement and Arthur’s smug expression turned to one of mild defeat. Merlin allowed himself to celebrate inwardly. For once, he had actually achieved victory - okay, it was a small victory, but a victory nonetheless - over Arthur Pendragon. He supposed it almost made up for his shitty morning and having not yet been able to find a way to strangle Arthur in his sleep without notice.
**
It was a bright, sunny day and they were heading down to the lake toward the canoes when Gilli suddenly stopped in his tracks, causing Merlin to bump into him.
“I’m not going,” Gilli announced, crossing his arms and planting his feet firmly to the ground.
“It’s all right,” Merlin tried to soothe the boy. “There are life jackets. You’ll be safe.”
Merlin really wasn’t too keen himself on going canoeing and he wondered who he was trying to convince. But Lance had said they’d be wearing life jackets and had reassured Merlin that the canoes did not tip easily so...
“Don’t care. Not going,” Gilli insisted stubbornly and Merlin sighed.
It had apparently come to Arthur’s attention that Gilli and Merlin had not followed them down to the lake and Merlin saw him, accompanied by Gwaine, jogging back up toward them.
“What’s up?” Arthur asked sharply, giving Gilli then Merlin a look.
“Gilli doesn’t want to go canoeing,” Merlin answered.
“Why not?”
“I just don’t,” Gilli said and Merlin could see the blush creeping over the kids chubby cheeks. He understood that Gilli was afraid and he really hoped Arthur wouldn’t make a big deal of it.
Arthur scrutinized Gilli for a moment, trying to read the kid. Merlin started working himself up, fully prepared to defend the boy and his fears but then Arthur said, “Fine. You don’t have to come.” He tossed Merlin a brief look. “But Merlin’s gonna have to stay behind with you.”
This happened to suit Merlin just fine, but he gave Gwaine a shrug nonetheless when he tossed Merlin a look of sympathy as he and Arthur trotted back down to the lake.
“I’m sorry,” Gilli said and Merlin could see his lips twitching as though he were about to cry.
Merlin put an arm around the boy’s shoulder. “That’s okay,” he said. “I really don’t like canoeing much anyway.”
“Honest?”
Merlin smiled, leading Gilli back to their cabin. “Honest.”
**
The camp cook was off two evenings during the week, which meant that one of the groups had to fill in on kitchen duty for the evening meal on those days. Lance had devised a schedule and Cabin Four was on kitchen duty the first week on the second day the camp cook was off. Arthur and Merlin and the six boys stood in the mess hall kitchen, none of them looking like they had a clue as to what to do.
Merlin poked his head into the large refrigerator and looked at its contents. There were all kinds of vegetables and several heads of lettuce for a fresh salad. There was a large bag of what looked like ground up beef and there was a big block of cheese. He found penne pasta and cans of tomato sauce in the pantry and there were bags of fresh rolls.
He gathered the various ingredients onto the island counter, feeling quite proud of himself. The boys stared at the food items while Arthur gaped at him.
“So what are we supposed to do with that?” Arthur asked.
Merlin rolled his eyes. He thought it was pretty obvious. “We’re going to make cheesy pasta,” he said, pointing at the penne, beef, cheese and cans of sauce. “And a salad,” he added, gesturing at the vegetables.
Arthur nodded. “Okay. Have you ever done this before?”
“You mean cook? Yes.”
Arthur cocked an eyebrow in disbelief.
“I’m pretty sure I’ve cooked more than you,” Merlin said. “I don’t have butler at home who does everything for me.”
The mention of a butler, of course, got the boys going and asking Arthur all kinds of questions which Arthur probably didn’t want to answer. Merlin knew it irritated Arthur whenever someone goaded him about having a butler and being pampered but, really, it was time Merlin got something over on Arthur Pendragon.
Merlin delegated everyone to a duty. Arthur was in charge of cooking the ground beef and penne pasta with help from Tristan and Owain. Gareth and Edwin were in charge of washing the heads of lettuce and helping to cut vegetables with Merlin, while Mordred and Gilli were in charge of grating the cheese. Merlin thought Arthur looked rather smug about ‘cooking’ even though Merlin had gotten out the pans and had carefully instructed him on what to do. Seriously, if Arthur didn’t have Geoffrey (the butler), Merlin was sure he would have expired long ago.
Merlin was slicing cucumbers for the salad and keeping an eye on Mordred as the kid ran a chunk of cheese across the grater. He was just about to tell Mordred to watch his fingers as the grater was sharp when his own knife slipped, slicing across his middle finger.
Merlin stared at the blood gushing from the cut (he had felt it cut pretty deep) and felt the blood drain from his face. He blinked, trying to focus, but his head felt light and there were black dots dancing in front of his eyes.
“Whoa...” he heard Arthur saying as his body slid to the floor.
The next thing he saw was Arthur’s fingers being snapped in front of his face and Arthur asking, “You with us?”
“W-what happened?” Merlin asked, his vision slowly coming into focus.
“You cut yourself,” Arthur said.
Merlin took stock of his surroundings. He was in the kitchen of the camp mess hall. On the floor. A kitchen towel was wrapped around his hand and he could see blood seeping through. Arthur was crouched on the floor in front of him, his face showing a mixture of annoyance and worry? - no, it couldn’t be worry, Merlin thought - and there were six pairs of anxious eyes trained on him.
“Owain, go get Lance,” Arthur instructed. “Looks like Merlin’s gonna have to take a trip to Emergency.”
“I do?”
Arthur nodded. “Pretty sure you need stitches, mate.”
Damn. He must have a cut it deep.
“Wow,” Gilli suddenly commented. “You were sure right when you said you were accident-prone!”
Arthur burst out laughing and the boys quickly joined in. Even Merlin had to laugh, if only to take his mind off the fact that his finger was gushing blood, making him light-headed.
They were all still laughing when Owain returned with Lance, who looked at the group of them like they were insane. Arthur somehow managed to contain himself just long enough to hand off an hysterically giggling Merlin into Lance’s care before getting caught up once again in laughter.
**
Three hours and four stitches in his finger later, Merlin returned with Lance to the camp. The camp leaders were around the campfire, the young campers having already settled into their cabins for the evening.
“Been here four days and already Merlin has taken his first trip to Emergency,” Arthur commented when Lance and Merlin appeared. “Must be a record.”
“First trip?” Elena queried.
“Oh, they’ll probably be more,” Arthur told her, rolling his eyes skyward. “Merlin is a bit accident-prone.”
Elena tilted her head as if to say she understood and Merlin fully believed Elena and he were kindred spirits as far as proneness to accidents were concerned. Still, he gave Arthur a look that conveyed he was less than pleased with his goading. His finger hurt and the stitches were already itching.
He planned to head to the cabin for bed so he could put the slightly disastrous day behind him. He turned and Arthur called out, “Oh, by the way? Dinner was awesome. The boys and I are brilliant!”
Arthur barked out a laugh, and was joined by Leon and Percy, when Merlin flipped him off with his newly stitched and bandaged middle finger.
**
Mordred’s big blue eyes trailed up the twenty-five foot climbing wall and Merlin heard the kid audibly gulp. “You’re coming up with me, right?”
“Yeah, yeah,” Merlin said as Lance gave his safety harness a final tug. “It’ll be fine,” he soothed, trying to get his own nerves under control. He figured it would not be good to freak out in front of Mordred who was counting on him for support. “Just one step at a time.”
Up the centre wall section they went, Merlin focused on guiding and encouraging Mordred who seemed to be gaining confidence with each step.
“This is great!” Mordred expressed excitedly when they reached the top. Apparently, he had gotten over his fear of climbing.
Merlin gripped the top of the wall and mumbled a response. He could see the expanse of woods over the top of the wall and quickly closed his eyes. He would not look down, he would not look down, he would not look down.
He heard movement beside him. “Gonna climb down now,” Mordred said. “Coming?”
Merlin nodded. But he kept his lips pressed together and his eyes shut. He tried to move but found he couldn’t.
Bloody hell.
“Merlin?” he heard Gwaine call up. “You coming down?”
“No,” Merlin called back. He wanted to. He really, really wanted to, but his feet refused to budge.
A pause. “No?”
“No.”
“Oh, for crying out loud!” he heard Arthur exclaim from the ground. Merlin could hear the exasperation in his tone from twenty-five feet up. “Suppose we’re gonna have to go up and rescue the idiot.”
Merlin imagined that the boys from his group and Lance and Gwaine’s group, along with Arthur, Lance, and Gwaine - thankfully, it was only their two groups at the climbing wall at the moment - were all staring up at him and thinking he was a right idiot but Merlin did not care to open his eyes to find out. Instead, he clung to the wall and waited as he heard the sounds of harnesses being snapped into place and then hands and feet scrabbling for purchase on the wall, climbing.
Gwaine reached the top first, coming up on Merlin’s right side, Arthur following on his left.
“Alright mate?”
Merlin peeked an eye open and saw Gwaine grinning at him.
“No,” Merlin said and heard Arthur huff out a laugh on the other side of him.
“Well, don’t worry,” Gwaine said gallantly, giving Merlin a wink. “We’re gonna get you down.”
“Okay.” Merlin opened his other eye and kept his gaze firmly set on Gwaine’s grinning face. He knew he’d be taking the piss from Arthur later on for getting stuck up on the wall and needing to be rescued but right at the moment all Merlin wanted was for his feet to touch ground. So much for being brave for little Mordred.
Gwaine put a reassuring hand on the small of his back and encouraged him to begin the climb down. Merlin willed his feet to move and it took him three tries before he tentatively placed a foot in the first hole, Gwaine offering continuous encouragement while Arthur huffed impatiently and with exasperation.
Merlin took another tentative three-tries step down then found his feet suddenly knocked out from under him by a swift kick-sweep.
“What the hell, Pendragon!” he heard Gwaine yell as Merlin slipped down the twenty-five foot wall supported by his safety harness.
“Quickest way to get him down,” he heard Arthur reply dryly.
Lance grabbed him as soon as Merlin reached the ground and began unbuckling his safety harness. “Moment of panic,” Lance said, seeing that Merlin was shaking. “Happens to everyone.”
Maybe so, Merlin thought, but not everyone had to deal with a maniacal mad man whose goal in life was to terrorize and torment Merlin by doing things like purposely making him fall off a climbing wall!
Mordred was at his side, looking worried. Merlin attempted to shrug it off like it was no big deal for the kid’s sake but he didn’t think it came off looking very convincing, especially since he was still shaking badly.
Gwaine and Arthur had reached the ground and were unhooking their safety harnesses. Merlin turned to Gwaine. “Thanks,” he said sincerely. It had been really gallant of Gwaine to have come to his rescue. Merlin then turned to Arthur and said, “I hate you.”
He stormed past a smirking Arthur, the urge to punch him so strong that Merlin had to shove his hands in his shorts pockets to stop himself from striking out at the prat.
Fucking Arthur Pendragon.
**
They were playing a game of Truth or Dare. All the young campers were in their cabins, though probably not asleep, while the camp leaders were relaxing around the campfire.
“Merlin’s turn,” said Gwaine. “Truth or Dare?”
“Truth,” Merlin said automatically. Something about the way Gwaine was looking at him made choosing Dare seem unwise.
Arthur rolled his eyes or at least Merlin assumed he did, as he wasn’t actually able to see the eye roll with only the light of the campfire. “Of course, you’d pick Truth,” he scoffed at Merlin. “You’re too much of a girl to take a risk. No offence,” he directed at Gwen and the other girls.
Merlin gave Gwen what he hoped was a look of apology then said to Arthur, “I’m not a girl, you prat. Besides, Truth is taking a risk.”
“Oh, you’ve got some deep, dark secret to tell us, do you?” Arthur niggled. He rolled his eyes - again mostly in Merlin’s imagination but he was ninety-nine percent certain that it actually happened. Arthur Pendragon was nothing if predictable. “Yeah, I bet your Truth is gonna end up being lame and boring.”
Merlin stewed. Why did Arthur always have to turn something fun into something confrontational? They couldn’t even play Truth or Dare without the bastard niggling Merlin before he even got to tell a damn Truth!
“Gwen picked Truth,” Merlin pointed out. “And I didn’t hear you giving her a hard time about it.”
“Yeah, because Gwen isn’t lame and boring,” Arthur returned with a smirk and Merlin had the sudden urge to smack Arthur upside the head. In fact, it was a recurring urge that was getting harder and harder to ignore.
“Arthur,” Gwen cautioned, shooting Merlin a sympathetic look. “Merlin can choose whatever he wants.”
Arthur shrugged to concede but Merlin could see the challenge in his eyes.
“Fine,” Merlin said. “I’ll pick Dare.” He tossed Arthur a steely look to return his challenge. “Happy?”
The two stared each other down until Gwaine said, “Okay. Dare it is then.” He rubbed his hands together, grinning mischievously.
“You have to choose one of us guys and kiss him - with tongue,” Leon piped up unexpectedly.
They all turned to stare at Leon.
“What? Perce had to bench press Arthur and I had to run around cabin six with my boxer shorts on my head,” Leon immediately defended.
Everyone seemed to consider this for a moment. Then Lance said, “Fair enough.”
So Merlin’s dare was to pick one of the guys here and French kiss him basically. Great. He looked around the campfire, purposely by-passing Arthur with his gaze. There was no way Merlin was going to kiss Arthur. He’d kiss a donkey with bad breath first.
“Pick me,” Gwaine said under the cover of a cough, which made everybody but Arthur laugh. It seemed to Merlin that Arthur looked a tad constipated - not that he was looking, mind you, because he wasn’t.
Merlin grinned and let his gaze come to rest on Gwaine. Kissing Gwaine - with tongue - would not be much of a hardship really. Gwaine was good-looking. And hot. And he had been flirting with Merlin since they had arrived at the camp. Hell, he was flirting with Merlin now.
So Merlin got up from his tree stump and crossed over to Gwaine, who was still grinning and waiting. There were deep breaths of anticipation as he leaned forward and touched his mouth to Gwaine’s, his lips parted slightly to allow Gwaine’s tongue to snake into his mouth and slide against his own in a tango.
He heard Leon hoot and Percy holler while Lance let out a low whistle. Gwen, Freya and Elena all squealed in delight and Merlin heard Isolde give an impressive wolf whistle. Even Mithian and Sophia seemed entertained and Merlin had to wonder what it was with girls and boys kissing boys as Gwaine plunged his tongue further down Merlin’s throat. For once, Arthur was silent, and if it looked like he was scowling and pouting, Merlin was sure it was only the trick of the light from the campfire.
“Wow. I think I need a cigarette,” Elena expressed when Merlin was finally able to disengage his tongue and mouth from Gwaine’s. This made the girls giggle and Percy tease, “Me too.”
Gwaine licked his lips, his predatory gaze following Merlin back to his tree stump seat. Merlin felt the blush settle on his cheekbones and hoped it wasn’t too visible in the firelight. As far as kisses went, that one had been pretty fucking awesome. He picked up a stick and poked at the fire, aware that Gwaine was still staring and grinning at him.
“Okay, Athur’s turn now,” Gwen said gleefully, still high from boy-on-boy liplock. “Truth or Dare?”
Attentions were turned toward Arthur who appeared to be considering seriously. He then looked Merlin straight in the eye and cocked a half-grin. “Truth,” he said very deliberately and very smugly.
Later, Merlin would contemplate whether he could get away with smothering Arthur with a pillow in his sleep.
**
PART II