KNIGHTS SHOULD NEVER PLAY WITH DRAGONS: Part 2
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
PART I
**
Merlin didn’t much like paintball battles. Something about running around and shooting other people with paint didn’t appeal to him. He especially didn’t like paintball battles when they involved being on a team with Arthur Pendragon.
Arthur was highly competitive and incredibly bossy. Every time Merlin moved, he would hiss and say, “Stay down, Merlin!” or “Don’t move, you make an easy target!” And when Merlin stayed put, not doing anything but breathing, Arthur would say, “Don’t just sit there! We gotta take the other teams out!”
It was an exhausting no-win battle and Merlin wanted to call it quits less than an hour into the game. Arthur managed to take the fun out of everything and frankly Merlin had had enough.
So when Arthur made a dart out from under cover with the intent to offensively strike, Merlin stood, directed his gun at Arthur and open splattered him with paint.
“Ugh!” Arthur yelled, his eyes practically bugging out of his head. “Merlinnnn....!”
“Red Team Leader down!” Gwaine shouted out.
“Doesn’t count,” Arthur protested, staring down at his colourfully painted vest as though he couldn’t believe Merlin had just shot him. Repeatedly.
“Counts,” Isolde asserted from behind tree cover. Her team was the only girl team left in the game, although Elena had been painted ‘dead’ early on.
Merlin didn’t care if it counted or not. He was done.
He could hear Arthur vociferously arguing about his live-or-die status as Merlin stomped away from the battlefield, Mordred, Gilli, and Edwin following behind him.
**
It didn’t take a genius to figure out Arthur was pissed when he returned to the cabin with Tristan, Owain and Gareth a half hour later. The scowl on his face and the heavy stomping about pretty much gave it away.
“They decided it counted,” Owain announced and Arthur’s scowl deepened.
“It was just a game, Arthur,” Merlin said tiredly from his bunk. Arthur really had to stop being so competitive.
“You shot me.”
“You were criticizing me!” Merlin returned in defence.
“I was giving you constructive guidance,” Arthur countered.
Merlin rolled his eyes. “No, you weren’t. You were being a prick.” He saw Arthur round on him and quickly deflected, “Oh, and don’t give me a language warning. I’ve heard this lot” - he gestured at the boys - “say much worse.”
Arthur huffed, his face red and angry. He looked like he was about to give a retort but then he threw up his hands, huffed again, and then left, presumably heading to the showers.
The boys and Merlin were silent until Tristan said, “He’s really pissed at you.”
Merlin huffed out a bitter laugh. “He’s always pissed at me.”
“How come?” Gilli wanted to know, and the boys all turned their attentions to Merlin.
Merlin shrugged. “We don’t get along, okay? Arthur hates me. It’s just the way it is.”
The boys, especially Gareth, Tristan, and Owain, looked surprised.
“I thought you were friends,” said Tristan.
“Not really,” Merlin told him, something feeling like hurt starting to settle in his chest. Which was stupid because the last thing Merlin felt about not being friends with Arthur Pendragon was hurt.
“Arthur doesn’t hate you,” Owain piped in, the other boys murmuring and nodding, obviously trying to cheer Merlin up.
But Merlin didn’t need cheering up. He was perfectly okay with Arthur not liking him, he told himself. It was okay because Merlin really wasn’t too fond of Arthur either. He really wasn’t. “Well, pretty close anyway,” Merlin mumbled.
“Arthur said you guys had to come here because he punched you just before school let out,” Gareth revealed. Mordred and Gilli gasped.
Merlin had to admit he was surprised. He didn’t think Arthur was big enough to admit he may have been responsible for their last fight. “Yeah, well, to be fair, I may have punched him back but my fist didn’t exactly land where I wanted it to.”
This made the boys laugh. And soon Merlin found himself laughing along with them. He knew he and Arthur had a crazy relationship but it was what it was.
And if Merlin tried not to aggravate Arthur any further when he returned to the cabin an hour or so later, it was because he didn’t want to get into another argument in front of the boys and not because he felt a little bit bad about having shot his entire load of paintballs at Arthur which had put him out of the game.
**
Lance had sent Merlin and Arthur into the woods to look for good kindling, which he had insisted would be found on the lake side of the woods. Arthur had muttered something about getting it quick because the sky was looking dark and had barely waited for Merlin before tramping into the woods. Merlin was pretty sure Arthur was still sore about Merlin having shot him in the paintball battle but, seriously, it was just a game and Arthur really needed to get over it.
Merlin tried to keep up as Arthur stalked through the woods with purpose, not wanting to anger him further. Still, the silent treatment was getting a little old and was childish so Merlin thought he’d attempt to at least make casual conversation. He decided that talking about going to uni soon should be a relatively neutral topic.
“Can’t wait to go to Albion U in the fall,” Merlin said, trailing after a focused Arthur. “What about you? You excited about going to Camelot?”
“Sure,” Arthur said unenthusiastically, not bothering to slow down his pace. Arthur was apparently more pissed at him than Merlin had realized.
“Well, Leon and Percy are headed there so at least you’ll know someone,” Merlin said for lack of anything better. Arthur gave no response, so Merlin continued his one-way conversation. “Gwaine he said he’d show me around campus at Albion U.”
“Yeah, I bet he did,” Arthur muttered, surprising Merlin with his response.
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Are you really that dense, Merlin?” Arthur asked over his shoulder. “Gwaine’s got the hots for you.”
“I’m not dense, you jerk,” Merlin defended on reflex. Then, “Wait. Gwaine’s got the hots for me?”
Arthur stopped on the path in front of him and whirled around, rolling his eyes heavenward. “God, you’re stupid.”
Merlin huffed. “Oh, now I’m stupid because Gwaine’s got the hots for me?”
“No. You’re stupid because--”
There was a loud crack of thunder and the dark sky suddenly opened up, rain pouring down on them.
“Great. Just great,” Arthur complained, looking skyward. “I should have known you’d manage to get us caught in a thunderstorm--”
“How is this my fault?” Merlin wanted to know. Arthur was being ridiculous. Merlin couldn’t control the weather, for fuck sakes. If he could, he would have arranged for Arthur to have been struck by lightning already.
“It just is,” Arthur growled back nonsensically. He was clearly annoyed. And, really, Merlin couldn’t understand it. It was Lance who had sent them into the woods to gather kindling with a thunderstorm looming.
“That makes no sense!” Merlin shouted, partly because he was angry and partly so he could be heard over the sound of the rain pouring down.
Arthur moved toward him. He grabbed a hold of Merlin’s shirt and jerked him roughly, his fist clenching. Merlin closed his eyes and steeled himself for the punch.
But the punch never came. Instead, he felt warm, wet lips on his. Shock soon gave way to surprised pleasure as he realized Arthur was kissing him.
Then just as suddenly, Arthur shoved at his chest, pushing him away with force. “Fuck off!” he yelled, his look dark and dangerous, but there was something else in Arthur’s eyes Merlin couldn’t quite get a handle on. Arthur shot a glare at him then marched forward, knocking Merlin’s shoulder hard as he stalked past him back to camp.
Merlin was left standing in the pouring rain, wondering first: what the bloody fucking hell was that all about? and second: how was he supposed to collect and carry all the kindling by himself?
**
Around the campfire later - they had been treated to a ten-minute thunder shower which, of course, had somehow been Merlin’s fault - Merlin noticed that Arthur was doing his best to ignore him, which was fine by Merlin. When Merlin had returned to their cabin - after dropping a pile of kindling in the pavilion and pointedly ignoring Lance’s raised eyebrow - to change out of his wet clothes into dry ones, Arthur had not been there. He had gone to the showers, the boys had told him. Merlin had wanted to have a shower as well - the rain had left him with a chill - but he did not want to have another row with Arthur or, worse, to have to deal with any awkwardness that was bound to arise because of The Kiss.
Arthur maintained his silent treatment of Merlin for the rest of that night and for the better part of the next day, speaking only to the boys and doing a good job of pretending Merlin didn’t exist. The boys had noticed the tension between them so they tried to behave and to get along in hopes that things would soon smooth over.
Merlin hated to admit it, but he felt rather miserable that Arthur was ignoring and not talking to him. Which was weird because Arthur not talking to him - teasing him, tormenting him, criticizing him, goading him, needling him - should have been a dream come true. And Merlin was further confused about what Arthur kissing him meant. Not that the kiss had been bloody brilliant or anything because it certainly had not been. In fact, as far as kisses went, it was probably the least brilliant one he had ever been given.
Merlin sighed and went looking for Gwen. He had decided that he needed to talk to someone about this whole Arthur thing before he made himself crazy and Gwen seemed the most likely to listen and to offer sympathy.
So while Arthur took their group of boys to the climbing wall - Merlin refused to go near the thing again, especially if Arthur intended to be there - Merlin sought out Gwen and Freya’s group. He found them in the pavilion, excitedly engaged in craft-making.
Once he was able to pull Gwen away out of earshot, Merlin poured all his feelings out about Arthur being the bane of his existence and how it was impossible for them to get along and how it was affecting the boys in their group. He re-hashed all of Arthur’s transgressions against him in the two weeks they had been at camp (leaving out the minor detail of Arthur kissing him, of course) and expressed how childish Arthur was now being by refusing to speak to him and pretending he didn’t exist (without revealing how frustrated and miserable he was about this).
“I just don’t understand why he persists in tormenting me,” Merlin said to finish, giving Gwen a rather forlorn look.
“Have you ever thought, Merlin,” Gwen said in her gentle way, “that maybe that’s just Arthur’s way of pulling your pigtails?”
“I don’t have pigtails,” Merlin pointed out, feeling surlier by the second. He had been expecting Gwen to take his side, not to wax poetic about pigtails.
“It’s just an expression,” Gwen said. “You know what I mean.”
He did and he didn’t. “Yes, but why the hell does Arthur want to pull my non-existent pigtails?” Merlin rolled his eyes. “Except to irritate the hell out of me, that is.”
Gwen smiled kindly. “Oh, Merlin,” she said, practically gushing. “Of course, it’s because Arthur has been crushing on you since forever.”
Merlin could not contain his snort. “Crushing on me?” he managed without spluttering, which was a miracle because he had good reason to splutter. “He hates me, Gwen! It’s no secret. He’s been tormenting me since we were eight.” He saw Gwen frown and added, “He was jealous because everyone liked my dragon better than his knights!”
Merlin knew it was childish to keep harping on something that happened almost ten years ago, but for some reason, he had trouble letting it go. Gwen had witnessed first-hand the incident that had happened between Merlin and Arthur in Mrs. Collins’ class so it wasn’t as though she needed a refresher but Merlin thought it prudent to remind her in order to quash the ridiculous notion she had of Arthur having anything resembling a crush on him.
Gwen tilted her head, her look thoughtful. “Merlin,” she said patiently, using the same tone as the one she used with her young campers, “Arthur doesn’t hate you. He just hates having to compete for your attention.”
Merlin let out another snort. “Well, it isn’t exactly news Arthur Pendragon likes to be the center of attention.”
“You’re not listening, Merlin. I said he doesn’t like having to compete for your attention.”
What the hell did that mean?
Merlin realized he had actually vocalized that thought when Gwen answered, “It means he tends to pull your pigtails really hard when your attention is focused on someone other than him.”
To Merlin, it seemed like Gwen was talking in riddles - she was the one going to be studying psychology at uni, not him - but he tried hard to follow what she was saying. Arthur wanted his attention. And he felt what - threatened? - when Merlin gave it to someone other than Arthur. And when Arthur felt threatened, he pulled Merlin’s pigtails really hard?
Merlin shook his head. Gwen was wrong. Arthur pulled Merlin’s pigtails because he was a dickhead and liked to torment Merlin not because he was harbouring some crush and wanted to get his attention. Plain and simple. Ten years of Arthur Pendragon needling him and smirking at him and occasionally punching him were proof of that.
But still, Arthur had kissed him. Merlin knew Arthur had probably done it out of spite and to punish him, but he couldn’t get over the fact that the kiss, even as brief as it was, had felt quite gentle and almost longing, as though Arthur hadn’t really meant it to be spiteful at all but rather had been to trying to express something else entirely. But what that something else was, Merlin couldn’t imagine.
Merlin blew out a heavy sigh and Gwen patted his arm in a comforting gesture. Somehow, he was even more confused about Arthur than he had been before. And wasn’t that just his bloody luck?
**
Merlin was sitting on the dock, soaking up whatever rays could get past his SPF-60 sunscreen, looking out toward the lake at the group of boys swimming. Mordred, Gilli and Tristan were splashing around and doing handstands to one-up each other while Gareth, Owain and Edwin were engaged in a game of water basketball. Merlin was happy to see the boys intermingling and getting along.
Arthur had gone up to the camp to fetch some towels, leaving Merlin to supervise. So after coating himself with sunscreen, Merlin had stretched out on the dock so he could keep an eye on his group of boys. Arthur was still barely talking to Merlin but they were at least cooperating when it came to carrying out the duties of being camp leaders.
He heard feet pounding on the dock behind him and before he could turn around to discover the source, Percy and Leon scooped him up and pitched his shorts-and-t-shirt-clothed body toward the lake.
In his periphery, Merlin saw Arthur running down the dock toward them. He was yelling.
“Dammit! He can’t....”
Swim, Merlin’s mind finished for him, as he hit the cool lake water and began to sink like a rock. Merlin couldn’t swim. It was one of the things Arthur had always teased him rather meanly about, at least when they were younger. He would say, “Everyone knows how to swim, Merlin. It doesn’t take much skill.” Maybe so, but it didn’t negate the fact that Merlin had never quite gotten the hang of the whole swimming thing. His mother had spent years trying to coax him into learning, but Merlin preferred dry land, thank you very much.
As he sank, all Merlin could think was how ironic it was that Arthur had just been handed the best opportunity for teasing ever presented to him and he was wasting it, showing concern for Merlin’s safety, of all stupid things. The thought made Merlin giddy, hysterical really. Or maybe it was just the lack of oxygen with the water starting to fill his lungs...
Merlin sputtered up water as he came to, aware of blurry shapes huddled around him. He focused on one of the shapes which turned out to be Arthur, dripping wet and hovering over him, a strange look of worry on his face.
“Jesus Christ, Merlin,” Arthur said, now scowling. “Thought you would have finally learned how to swim.” He stretched up and walked a few paces away, his back turned to Merlin, who was sprawled out on his back on the dock, leaving Percy and Leon still hunched over him.
“I’m so sorry, mate,” Percy said. “We had no idea. If Arthur hadn’t jumped in to save you--”
Wait. What?
He must have looked confused because Leon added, “Dove in and pulled you out. Did that mouth-to-mouth stuff to make you cough up water.”
Mouth-to-mouth stuff? Oh bugger.
Gwen and Freya were now running down the dock toward him, followed by Lance and Gwaine. Merlin saw Arthur trying to usher a worried-looking group of boys, their six along with Percy and Leon’s six, back up toward camp. Merlin was grateful. He hated being the centre of attention even if he had almost drowned and had had to be rescued and apparently resuscitated by Arthur Pendragon.
“Oh, Merlin!” Gwen exclaimed, kneeling down on the dock beside him. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah,” he said, feeling a little disoriented and shaky. Percy and Leon helped him sit up. “Yeah. Arthur rescued me. Gave me mouth-to-mouth.” Merlin giggled. “Does that make him my knight in shining armour?” What the hell. He was rambling. About knights. In shining armour. Giving mouth-to-mouth. Arthur’s lips on his. Again. Fuck.
Gwen smiled kindly at him. “I think you’re in shock, Merlin,” she told him. “Lance called for assistance and paramedics should be here soon to help you. Okay?”
Merlin nodded numbly. “Okay.”
**
Merlin had been left to rest in the cabin to counter the effects of mild shock (the paramedics Lance had called to the camp had determined there was no life-threatening physical shock symptoms) and to regain the strength that had been zapped by the experience of having almost drowned. He had slept for a little while and was now awake, contemplating getting up and maybe seeing if he would be allowed to take a hot shower.
The windows on the cabin front were wide open and a nice breeze was flowing in. Merlin suddenly heard voices being carried in with the breeze that sounded like they were coming from the path leading up to the cabin.
“What are you doing?”
“Coming round to see how Merlin’s doing,” he heard Gwaine say.
“He’s resting,” Arthur replied. Merlin’s mind was still a little foggy but was that a note of protectiveness he detected in Arthur’s voice?
“Shouldn’t you be with your campers?” Gwaine asked and Merlin thought it was a good question.
“Shouldn’t you?” Arthur returned snidely.
“Lance said he’d take point while I checked on Merlin.”
“Gwen’s looking after our group,” was Arthur’s short reply.
There was a full minute’s silence as though the two were sizing each other up, then Gwaine’s voice again.
“You knew Merlin couldn’t swim. Is that why you didn’t press him to go canoeing last week? Let him stay behind with the kid.”
“He hates the water,” Arthur said. “I didn’t see the point.”
Was that why Arthur had told him to stay behind with Gilli? Because he knew Merlin hated the water and couldn’t swim?
“You know,” said Gwaine, sounding thoughtful. “I really don’t get it. You jump in a lake without a thought, like some big hero, to save a bloke you can’t stand from drowning.”
“I can stand Merlin just fine,” he heard Arthur say which was followed by a snort from Gwaine. Merlin may have snorted himself. “So maybe he gets on my last nerve sometimes but--”
“Gets on your last nerve sometimes? You guys fight all the time,” Gwaine interjected. “And by fight, I mean you throw actual punches at each other. Or so I’ve heard.”
“So? Maybe I just like pulling his pigtails. It’s just kind of how we relate, I guess.”
Again with the pigtails. What the hell was it with these blasted pigtails?
Gwaine huffed out a laugh. “How you relate? Are you serious? You know that’s fucked up, right?”
“Yeah.” Merlin heard Arthur huff out a laugh too.
“Look, I could be reading this all wrong,” said Gwaine, “but I don’t think so.” Then he said something that made Merlin bolt upright in his bed. “Some advice, Pendragon. Maybe you should try relating with your lips instead of your fists.”
“What?” came Arthur’s response.
What? Merlin echoed in his head.
“Lips,” Gwaine repeated.
There was the unmistakable sound of exaggerating kissing noises (Gwaine) followed by fitful coughing (Arthur) then a hearty laugh (Gwaine). Merlin had to restrain himself from going into a coughing fit. He covered his mouth with a hand to stifle any outburst. He did not want Gwaine and Arthur to know he was listening.
But seriously. Kissing?
Merlin’s mind looped back to the argument or whatever that was between them in the woods. Arthur had grabbed him and had kissed him - true. And the kiss had felt warm and gentle and amazing. But then Arthur had given him a shove and had told him to “fuck off”. It hadn’t exactly been the most tender or romantic of moments. As far as Merlin was concerned, it had just been Arthur being Arthur.
And what about all this pigtail pulling? Merlin did have to concede that what Arthur said made some sense. They always did relate best through confrontation, which was sometimes verbal and sometimes physical. As far as physical fights went, they were relatively tame. A split lip here, bloody nose there, an occasional black eye. Their fights never amounted to anything serious. Merlin wouldn’t want to actually hurt Arthur - or wreck his gorgeous face but Merlin really didn’t want to go there right now - and he was pretty sure Arthur wouldn’t want to actually hurt him (though he had almost broken Merlin’s nose with a punch over some stupid argument when they were fourteen). The truth was, of all the people in Merlin’s life, Arthur was the one he actually felt closest to, besides his mother, of course. He knew that probably sounded stupid but Merlin couldn’t imagine Arthur not being in his life. Arthur was like gum stuck to the bottom of his shoe. A solid, strangely comforting, if often annoying, presence. The fact that he and Arthur would be going their separate ways at the end of the summer - Merlin would be going off to Albion U and Arthur to Camelot University - bothered Merlin more than he was willing to admit. Arthur Pendragon might be the boy Merlin wanted to punch in the face most of the time, but he was also - and he was aware this sounded completely ludicrous - the one Merlin considered his...well, probably his best friend.
Which explained why Merlin was confused about everything, but especially confused about his feelings for Arthur Pendragon. Why it made him miserable when Arthur ignored him or didn’t talk to him. Why the thought of Arthur actually hating him made him hurt like crazy. Why Arthur kissing him had made his insides tumble.
Maybe Gwaine was right. Maybe what they needed to do was figure out a way that they could relate to each other that involved their lips pressing against each other’s instead of--
“Hey,” Arthur said suddenly, startling Merlin out of his thoughts. He was leaning against the door frame, his expression looking almost...tender?
“Hey.”
“You doing okay?”
“Yeah.”
“Okay. Told Lance I’d check on you.” Arthur crossed his arms and then uncrossed them, looking uncomfortably awkward. Then he said, “Gwaine was by to see how you were doing.”
“Oh.”
“Yeah,” Arthur said. He turned to leave, saying, “I’ll bring you back something to eat if you want to go have a shower.”
“Okay.”
Arthur was then gone and Merlin was left sitting in his bunk, his heart hammering in his chest, certain he would never be capable of coherent (more than one-word, that is) speech around Arthur Pendragon ever again.
**
Merlin recovered quickly from the trauma of almost drowning, though he was finding it difficult to recover from the other trauma - the one that involved feelings for Arthur Pendragon that Merlin was pretty sure had something to do with having a crush on or actually being in love with the prat.
It didn’t help that Arthur was being overly nice to him, carrying on the whole knight in shining armour routine, checking to make sure he was feeling okay, asking him if he needed anything, taking the boys swimming or to the climbing wall and letting Merlin relax and do whatever he wanted. It was strange and awkward - Merlin couldn’t ever remember Arthur being even a tenth this nice to him - but it also warmed his heart and sent his insides a-flutter.
But by the second day, Merlin had had enough of this new nice-as-pie and all-accommodating Arthur. He might have figured out that he was in love with Arthur Pendragon (and probably had been since he was eight years old, if he dared to admit it)and wanted to kiss him instead of fighting with him, but Merlin sort of missed the days where thoughts of strangling Arthur in his sleep predominated. He knew those thoughts, understood them, was strangely comforted by them. These new thoughts, however, and these feelings....they were surely going to be the death of him.
Merlin sat on the step outside the cabin, letting the glow of the moonlight soothe him. The boys had been ‘ordered’ to bed an hour ago and Merlin figured that meant at least three of them were probably asleep. As usual, the camp leaders were relaxing around the campfire but Merlin had elected to stay behind at the cabin tonight, wanting to sift through his own feelings and thoughts.
Somehow it didn’t surprise him to see Arthur coming up the path to their cabin shortly after Merlin had thought he had finally managed to stop thinking about him.
Arthur sat down on the step beside him and slid Merlin a sideways glance. “Watcha doing?” he asked.
“Thinking,” replied Merlin.
“About what?”
You, thought Merlin, but what he said was, “Can I ask you something?”
“Um, sure,” Arthur said.
“Why are you always such a prat to me?” Merlin hadn’t known he was going to ask that question but he supposed it was the question he hoped he’d get an honest answer to. He needed to why Arthur pulled his pigtails, needed to know if Gwen was right.
Arthur didn’t answer right away. Instead, he shifted around some, looking out toward the lake then letting his gaze fall to his feet before settling it back on Merlin - and was Arthur actually blushing? Finally, he said, “Maybe I just want your attention.”
Merlin thought again about what Gwen had said - that Arthur pulled his pigtails to get his attention and pulled them even harder when he felt Merlin was giving too much attention to someone or something else. Like when he shoved Merlin then kissed him after Merlin went on about Gwaine offering to show him around the Albion U campus. Because Merlin’s attention had been on Gwaine, not Arthur. Or like when Arthur had almost broken Merlin’s nose when they were fourteen over some perceived transgression on Arthur’s part that Merlin couldn’t fathom but now remembered might have had something to do with Merlin following around some cute, green-eyed exchange student like a lovesick puppy dog. Or how despicably loathsome Arthur could be when Merlin’s cousin and friend Will was around. Or like how Arthur had punched Merlin in the face after Merlin had made a crack that last week of school about how ecstatic he was that he’d never have to see Arthur’s ugly face again after graduation.
God, Merlin had been so stupid. Gwen had been right. Arthur was crushing on him and pulling Merlin’s pigtails - sometimes really, really hard - was Arthur’s way of trying to get his attention.
“You’re such an idiot,” Merlin told him and watched Arthur’s jaw drop in indignation. Before Arthur could muster up a retort, Merlin continued, “You already have my attention, Arthur. God. You’ve had my attention since we were freakin’ eight years old.”
“You mean when you insulted the honour of my knights then proceeded to smote them?” Arthur replied, but Merlin could see the corner of his mouth tipping up in a half-grin.
“You called my dragon stupid,” Merlin responded. “Besides, your knights were plastic.”
Arthur shrugged. “Yeah. But it was the only project my father ever showed an interest in and helped me with.”
“I didn’t know that.” Merlin was silent for a minute then said, “My dad was a bit of an expert on dragon lore. He left all these books behind so my mom gave them to me to read. I was fascinated with dragons after that.” He looked down at his feet, suddenly feeling embarrassed.
“Oh.” Merlin looked up to find Arthur’s gentle gaze on him. “I didn’t know that.”
“Well, I suppose this may come as a surprise,” Merlin said, “but maybe there’s actually some things we don’t know about each other.”
“Yeah,” Arthur conceded. Then he said, “I’m sorry I called your dragon stupid, Merlin. It was pretty awesome actually.”
“Really? Well, apology ten years late but, uh, thanks.” He looked out toward the moonlit lake then peeked over at Arthur. “So are we...are we okay?” Merlin asked him. He really didn’t know where they were supposed to go from here.
Arthur blew out a sigh and surprised him by saying, “Fuck, Merlin, I don’t know. In a few weeks, you go off to Albion U and I go off to Camelot. And I really don’t know if I’m okay with that.”
Merlin was puzzled. What exactly was Arthur not okay with?
Arthur looked like he was debating with himself so Merlin prodded him on with a raise of his eyebrow. Arthur finally let out a resigned breath and said, “I know this is going to sound really stupid. But you’re--” He raked a hand through his hair and blew out another heavy sigh. “Fuck, Merlin. You’re kind of like my...” he paused, seeming to consider his words, “...well, you’re kind of like my best friend,” Arthur conceded.
“I am?”
“Yeah. But don’t let it go to your head,” Arthur warned. He bumped Merlin’s shoulder with his. “You still have ridiculous ears.”
Merlin grinned. “Yeah, but you like my ridiculous ears,” he said without thinking.
Arthur looked down at his feet and may have blushed. “I kinda do, actually,” Arthur admitted, which made Merlin definitely blush.
A few awkward minutes passed. “Look, I’ve been thinking,” Arthur said finally, sliding a shy glance at Merlin. “Maybe we should...try something.”
“Try something?” Merlin had a pretty good idea what Arthur wanted to try but he wanted to hear Arthur say it.
“Yeah,” Arthur replied, and Merlin could see the rosy blush now settling over his cheekbones.
“Like, uh...like kissing.”
“Kissing?”
Arthur rolled his eyes. “What are you, a parrot? You keep repeating everything I say. Really, Merlin, you are the most infuria--”
Merlin didn’t let him finish. Instead, he abruptly leaned in and pressed his lips to Arthur’s. Arthur expressed a startled grunt but then started kissing Merlin back, pushing his tongue past Merlin’s lips to explore his mouth. Merlin thought it was the most brilliant thing ever.
“Finally!”
This broke the liplock and tongue tango and Merlin and Arthur turned to see a pyjama-clad Mordred standing in the cabin doorway behind them.
“I gotta pee,” he told them. “I’ve been waiting for the last half hour for you two to snog already so Merlin can bring me to the bathrooms.”
Merlin honestly didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. He figured laughing would garner him less embarrassment and far less teasing. “Okay, okay,” he said, still laughing, as Mordred started pulling him toward the bathrooms. Obviously, the kid really had to go.
When they returned from the bathrooms and Mordred had been ushered back into the cabin to bed with a parting, “Go back to kissy-facing with Arthur”, Merlin - now completely embarrassed and wishing a hole would open up so he could jump into it - settled back on the step next to a grinning Arthur.
“Don’t you dare ever say ‘kissy-facing’ in my presence,” Merlin warned him. “Or I will punch you in the face.”
Arthur chuckled and Merlin narrowed his eyes at him. “I won’t, promise,” he said then, “But I do have a proposition for you.” Merlin raised his eyebrows. “Let’s say whenever you have the urge to punch me in the face,” Arthur proposed, “you use your lips and kiss me instead.”
Merlin gave Arthur an incredulous look. Did Arthur realize Merlin thought about punching him at least ten times a day? “You know that means there’s gonna be a lot of kissing.”
Arthur lifted his eyebrows then threw his head back and laughed. Merlin took that to mean that Arthur was okay with that.
**
They spent as much time together as they could the last week of camp, sneaking off into the woods when they were able to snog each other senseless, slipping their hands into each other’s pants to jerk each other off, and sometimes rutting against each other until one or both came. One time, to Merlin’s surprise and utter amazement, Arthur had even gotten down on his knees and had sucked Merlin. Merlin couldn’t help blushing even now, remembering the way he had bucked his hips forward and had come - hot and hard - down Arthur’s throat.
They still argued and fought like cats and dogs. It was, after all, how they best related and Merlin really couldn’t expect Arthur to stop being a prat overnight. On the plus side, their arguments and fights led to really brilliant make-up make-out sessions and Merlin was finally getting close to being able to ignore the smirking and teasing that came from the boys whenever he and Arthur tried to slip away for some ‘alone time’.
**
The day finally came, though, when camp ended and the boys had to go home. Merlin and Arthur helped them pack and the boys all exchanged email addresses with each other and with Merlin and Arthur, and Merlin promised them that he would dutifully reply to all emails he received while Arthur grinned and rolled his eyes at him.
Merlin would not have said it was a tearful goodbye exactly, except that it was - for Merlin at least. He waved and waved until the last car with the last kid pulled away and then he tried to surreptitiously brush the tears that had collected in his eyes away without the other camp leaders noticing, but he was pretty sure Gwen, Lance and Gwaine and probably also Freya, Percy and Leon had caught him at it. Arthur, of course, heckled him mercilessly about it afterward but then he let Merlin sleep in his bunk with him that night to make up for it and they spent pretty much the whole night kissing and groping and kissing some more, so Merlin figured he could forgive him.
Merlin had returned from the showers on leaving day and saw that Arthur had dumped all of Merlin’s stuff out of the cupboards and drawers onto the floor in a heap next to his duffle bag. Merlin goggled. He had asked Arthur to take his clothes out with his own while Merlin went to shower and to set them next to his bag for Merlin to pack, and he clearly remembered hearing Arthur say that he would do this - not throw his clothes out onto the floor into a big, gigantic heap.
“Ugh!” Merlin exclaimed, still goggling. “You are such a--”
“A what?” Arthur asked, a grin playing at his lips.
“Jerk. Pisshead. Arse. Prick. Prat. Jackass. Donkey.”
“You done?” Arthur’s grin grew smugly.
Merlin sniffed. “I guess.”
Arthur cocked an eyebrow and regarded Merlin for a moment. “Donkey? Really?”
Merlin shrugged. “If the tail fits,” he couldn’t help goading.
Arthur narrowed his eyes at him. “Tail? I thought you said it was shoe.”
“Whatev--”
But Arthur fisted Merlin’s t-shirt and yanked him forward, covering his mouth hotly with his own, rendering Merlin incapable of further speech.
“Good to know that shuts you up,” Arthur teased when he finally pulled his mouth away.
Out of habit, Merlin glared at Arthur but couldn’t maintain the glare long. Not when Arthur was looking hot and bothered and staring at Merlin’s lips like he wanted to ravish him some more.
“I can’t believe I’m going to say this,” Merlin said, suddenly feeling a little bit sad now that the reality of camp being over was finally settling in. “But I think I’m really going to miss you.”
Arthur touched his forehead to Merlin’s. “We’ve still got two weeks before we start uni,” he said softly. “And then I’m gonna visit you at Albion and you’re gonna visit me at Camelot. So we’re gonna be together. A lot. Okay?”
“Okay.”
“You’ll probably get sick of me with the amount of together we’re gonna be,” Arthur added for further convincing.
“Yeah, probably.”
Arthur glared at him then burst out laughing.
**
Merlin and Arthur walked to the car park area, their duffle bags swung over one shoulder, the pinkie fingers of their free hands entwined. They could hear their parents bickering even before they saw them.
Hunith Emrys and Uther Pendragon looked over when their sons came into view, their eyes drifting to the boys’ hands, which seemed to stop them in their tracks, all words lost as their mouths fell open.
Arthur grinned at Merlin. “Wow. This might actually be the first time they’ve been rendered speechless.”
Merlin hummed in response and grinned back.
“You know,” Arthur said, “maybe your mom and my dad should hook up.”
Merlin raised an eyebrow. “What? Are you nuts? That’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard.”
“Really? Because I’m sure I’ve heard you say stupider.”
Merlin was getting that familiar urge so, keeping in tune with Arthur’s suggestion, he jerked Arthur toward him and planted a kiss on his mouth.
“Oh, if hand-holding made them speechless,” Arthur whispered, “I can only imagine what effect you kissing me just had on them.”
Merlin really didn’t want to know. He let go of Arthur’s hand and approached his mother, her mouth still hanging open, giving her a peck on the cheek as she wrapped him in a hug.
“I take it camp went well,” Hunith said, glancing over at Arthur, who was greeting his father with a handshake.
“Very well,” Merlin said, smiling.
“So I’m guessing you and Arthur aren’t going to be fighting anymore?” his mother said.
“Oh we’ll probably still fight but I think we’ll find a way to make up,” he told her then blushed when he realized what he had just said.
Arthur and his father were coming over to them. Uther Pendragon had a constipated look on his face but Arthur was grinning.
Uther cleared his throat. “Yes, well,” he said uncomfortably. He cleared his throat and tried again, this time addressing Hunith. “My son and I would very much like to invite you and Merlin to dinner.”
Hunith Emrys raised an eyebrow. “Oh?”
“Yes,” said Uther, who appeared to be regaining his usual confidence.
“Well,” said Hunith, and was that a blush Merlin saw on her cheeks? “Then we’d very much like to accept.”
Uther smiled and Hunith blushed some more.
“Hook up,” Arthur coughed as they followed their smiling and blushing parents to their respective cars.
Merlin went for a smack upside Arthur’s head and was only mildly disappointed when Arthur was able to deflect his attempt and pulled him in for a kiss instead.
**
GENRE: Modern AU
RATING: PG-15 (for allusions to the two Os: oral sex and orgasm)
WORD COUNT: ~14k
PART I
**
Merlin didn’t much like paintball battles. Something about running around and shooting other people with paint didn’t appeal to him. He especially didn’t like paintball battles when they involved being on a team with Arthur Pendragon.
Arthur was highly competitive and incredibly bossy. Every time Merlin moved, he would hiss and say, “Stay down, Merlin!” or “Don’t move, you make an easy target!” And when Merlin stayed put, not doing anything but breathing, Arthur would say, “Don’t just sit there! We gotta take the other teams out!”
It was an exhausting no-win battle and Merlin wanted to call it quits less than an hour into the game. Arthur managed to take the fun out of everything and frankly Merlin had had enough.
So when Arthur made a dart out from under cover with the intent to offensively strike, Merlin stood, directed his gun at Arthur and open splattered him with paint.
“Ugh!” Arthur yelled, his eyes practically bugging out of his head. “Merlinnnn....!”
“Red Team Leader down!” Gwaine shouted out.
“Doesn’t count,” Arthur protested, staring down at his colourfully painted vest as though he couldn’t believe Merlin had just shot him. Repeatedly.
“Counts,” Isolde asserted from behind tree cover. Her team was the only girl team left in the game, although Elena had been painted ‘dead’ early on.
Merlin didn’t care if it counted or not. He was done.
He could hear Arthur vociferously arguing about his live-or-die status as Merlin stomped away from the battlefield, Mordred, Gilli, and Edwin following behind him.
**
It didn’t take a genius to figure out Arthur was pissed when he returned to the cabin with Tristan, Owain and Gareth a half hour later. The scowl on his face and the heavy stomping about pretty much gave it away.
“They decided it counted,” Owain announced and Arthur’s scowl deepened.
“It was just a game, Arthur,” Merlin said tiredly from his bunk. Arthur really had to stop being so competitive.
“You shot me.”
“You were criticizing me!” Merlin returned in defence.
“I was giving you constructive guidance,” Arthur countered.
Merlin rolled his eyes. “No, you weren’t. You were being a prick.” He saw Arthur round on him and quickly deflected, “Oh, and don’t give me a language warning. I’ve heard this lot” - he gestured at the boys - “say much worse.”
Arthur huffed, his face red and angry. He looked like he was about to give a retort but then he threw up his hands, huffed again, and then left, presumably heading to the showers.
The boys and Merlin were silent until Tristan said, “He’s really pissed at you.”
Merlin huffed out a bitter laugh. “He’s always pissed at me.”
“How come?” Gilli wanted to know, and the boys all turned their attentions to Merlin.
Merlin shrugged. “We don’t get along, okay? Arthur hates me. It’s just the way it is.”
The boys, especially Gareth, Tristan, and Owain, looked surprised.
“I thought you were friends,” said Tristan.
“Not really,” Merlin told him, something feeling like hurt starting to settle in his chest. Which was stupid because the last thing Merlin felt about not being friends with Arthur Pendragon was hurt.
“Arthur doesn’t hate you,” Owain piped in, the other boys murmuring and nodding, obviously trying to cheer Merlin up.
But Merlin didn’t need cheering up. He was perfectly okay with Arthur not liking him, he told himself. It was okay because Merlin really wasn’t too fond of Arthur either. He really wasn’t. “Well, pretty close anyway,” Merlin mumbled.
“Arthur said you guys had to come here because he punched you just before school let out,” Gareth revealed. Mordred and Gilli gasped.
Merlin had to admit he was surprised. He didn’t think Arthur was big enough to admit he may have been responsible for their last fight. “Yeah, well, to be fair, I may have punched him back but my fist didn’t exactly land where I wanted it to.”
This made the boys laugh. And soon Merlin found himself laughing along with them. He knew he and Arthur had a crazy relationship but it was what it was.
And if Merlin tried not to aggravate Arthur any further when he returned to the cabin an hour or so later, it was because he didn’t want to get into another argument in front of the boys and not because he felt a little bit bad about having shot his entire load of paintballs at Arthur which had put him out of the game.
**
Lance had sent Merlin and Arthur into the woods to look for good kindling, which he had insisted would be found on the lake side of the woods. Arthur had muttered something about getting it quick because the sky was looking dark and had barely waited for Merlin before tramping into the woods. Merlin was pretty sure Arthur was still sore about Merlin having shot him in the paintball battle but, seriously, it was just a game and Arthur really needed to get over it.
Merlin tried to keep up as Arthur stalked through the woods with purpose, not wanting to anger him further. Still, the silent treatment was getting a little old and was childish so Merlin thought he’d attempt to at least make casual conversation. He decided that talking about going to uni soon should be a relatively neutral topic.
“Can’t wait to go to Albion U in the fall,” Merlin said, trailing after a focused Arthur. “What about you? You excited about going to Camelot?”
“Sure,” Arthur said unenthusiastically, not bothering to slow down his pace. Arthur was apparently more pissed at him than Merlin had realized.
“Well, Leon and Percy are headed there so at least you’ll know someone,” Merlin said for lack of anything better. Arthur gave no response, so Merlin continued his one-way conversation. “Gwaine he said he’d show me around campus at Albion U.”
“Yeah, I bet he did,” Arthur muttered, surprising Merlin with his response.
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Are you really that dense, Merlin?” Arthur asked over his shoulder. “Gwaine’s got the hots for you.”
“I’m not dense, you jerk,” Merlin defended on reflex. Then, “Wait. Gwaine’s got the hots for me?”
Arthur stopped on the path in front of him and whirled around, rolling his eyes heavenward. “God, you’re stupid.”
Merlin huffed. “Oh, now I’m stupid because Gwaine’s got the hots for me?”
“No. You’re stupid because--”
There was a loud crack of thunder and the dark sky suddenly opened up, rain pouring down on them.
“Great. Just great,” Arthur complained, looking skyward. “I should have known you’d manage to get us caught in a thunderstorm--”
“How is this my fault?” Merlin wanted to know. Arthur was being ridiculous. Merlin couldn’t control the weather, for fuck sakes. If he could, he would have arranged for Arthur to have been struck by lightning already.
“It just is,” Arthur growled back nonsensically. He was clearly annoyed. And, really, Merlin couldn’t understand it. It was Lance who had sent them into the woods to gather kindling with a thunderstorm looming.
“That makes no sense!” Merlin shouted, partly because he was angry and partly so he could be heard over the sound of the rain pouring down.
Arthur moved toward him. He grabbed a hold of Merlin’s shirt and jerked him roughly, his fist clenching. Merlin closed his eyes and steeled himself for the punch.
But the punch never came. Instead, he felt warm, wet lips on his. Shock soon gave way to surprised pleasure as he realized Arthur was kissing him.
Then just as suddenly, Arthur shoved at his chest, pushing him away with force. “Fuck off!” he yelled, his look dark and dangerous, but there was something else in Arthur’s eyes Merlin couldn’t quite get a handle on. Arthur shot a glare at him then marched forward, knocking Merlin’s shoulder hard as he stalked past him back to camp.
Merlin was left standing in the pouring rain, wondering first: what the bloody fucking hell was that all about? and second: how was he supposed to collect and carry all the kindling by himself?
**
Around the campfire later - they had been treated to a ten-minute thunder shower which, of course, had somehow been Merlin’s fault - Merlin noticed that Arthur was doing his best to ignore him, which was fine by Merlin. When Merlin had returned to their cabin - after dropping a pile of kindling in the pavilion and pointedly ignoring Lance’s raised eyebrow - to change out of his wet clothes into dry ones, Arthur had not been there. He had gone to the showers, the boys had told him. Merlin had wanted to have a shower as well - the rain had left him with a chill - but he did not want to have another row with Arthur or, worse, to have to deal with any awkwardness that was bound to arise because of The Kiss.
Arthur maintained his silent treatment of Merlin for the rest of that night and for the better part of the next day, speaking only to the boys and doing a good job of pretending Merlin didn’t exist. The boys had noticed the tension between them so they tried to behave and to get along in hopes that things would soon smooth over.
Merlin hated to admit it, but he felt rather miserable that Arthur was ignoring and not talking to him. Which was weird because Arthur not talking to him - teasing him, tormenting him, criticizing him, goading him, needling him - should have been a dream come true. And Merlin was further confused about what Arthur kissing him meant. Not that the kiss had been bloody brilliant or anything because it certainly had not been. In fact, as far as kisses went, it was probably the least brilliant one he had ever been given.
Merlin sighed and went looking for Gwen. He had decided that he needed to talk to someone about this whole Arthur thing before he made himself crazy and Gwen seemed the most likely to listen and to offer sympathy.
So while Arthur took their group of boys to the climbing wall - Merlin refused to go near the thing again, especially if Arthur intended to be there - Merlin sought out Gwen and Freya’s group. He found them in the pavilion, excitedly engaged in craft-making.
Once he was able to pull Gwen away out of earshot, Merlin poured all his feelings out about Arthur being the bane of his existence and how it was impossible for them to get along and how it was affecting the boys in their group. He re-hashed all of Arthur’s transgressions against him in the two weeks they had been at camp (leaving out the minor detail of Arthur kissing him, of course) and expressed how childish Arthur was now being by refusing to speak to him and pretending he didn’t exist (without revealing how frustrated and miserable he was about this).
“I just don’t understand why he persists in tormenting me,” Merlin said to finish, giving Gwen a rather forlorn look.
“Have you ever thought, Merlin,” Gwen said in her gentle way, “that maybe that’s just Arthur’s way of pulling your pigtails?”
“I don’t have pigtails,” Merlin pointed out, feeling surlier by the second. He had been expecting Gwen to take his side, not to wax poetic about pigtails.
“It’s just an expression,” Gwen said. “You know what I mean.”
He did and he didn’t. “Yes, but why the hell does Arthur want to pull my non-existent pigtails?” Merlin rolled his eyes. “Except to irritate the hell out of me, that is.”
Gwen smiled kindly. “Oh, Merlin,” she said, practically gushing. “Of course, it’s because Arthur has been crushing on you since forever.”
Merlin could not contain his snort. “Crushing on me?” he managed without spluttering, which was a miracle because he had good reason to splutter. “He hates me, Gwen! It’s no secret. He’s been tormenting me since we were eight.” He saw Gwen frown and added, “He was jealous because everyone liked my dragon better than his knights!”
Merlin knew it was childish to keep harping on something that happened almost ten years ago, but for some reason, he had trouble letting it go. Gwen had witnessed first-hand the incident that had happened between Merlin and Arthur in Mrs. Collins’ class so it wasn’t as though she needed a refresher but Merlin thought it prudent to remind her in order to quash the ridiculous notion she had of Arthur having anything resembling a crush on him.
Gwen tilted her head, her look thoughtful. “Merlin,” she said patiently, using the same tone as the one she used with her young campers, “Arthur doesn’t hate you. He just hates having to compete for your attention.”
Merlin let out another snort. “Well, it isn’t exactly news Arthur Pendragon likes to be the center of attention.”
“You’re not listening, Merlin. I said he doesn’t like having to compete for your attention.”
What the hell did that mean?
Merlin realized he had actually vocalized that thought when Gwen answered, “It means he tends to pull your pigtails really hard when your attention is focused on someone other than him.”
To Merlin, it seemed like Gwen was talking in riddles - she was the one going to be studying psychology at uni, not him - but he tried hard to follow what she was saying. Arthur wanted his attention. And he felt what - threatened? - when Merlin gave it to someone other than Arthur. And when Arthur felt threatened, he pulled Merlin’s pigtails really hard?
Merlin shook his head. Gwen was wrong. Arthur pulled Merlin’s pigtails because he was a dickhead and liked to torment Merlin not because he was harbouring some crush and wanted to get his attention. Plain and simple. Ten years of Arthur Pendragon needling him and smirking at him and occasionally punching him were proof of that.
But still, Arthur had kissed him. Merlin knew Arthur had probably done it out of spite and to punish him, but he couldn’t get over the fact that the kiss, even as brief as it was, had felt quite gentle and almost longing, as though Arthur hadn’t really meant it to be spiteful at all but rather had been to trying to express something else entirely. But what that something else was, Merlin couldn’t imagine.
Merlin blew out a heavy sigh and Gwen patted his arm in a comforting gesture. Somehow, he was even more confused about Arthur than he had been before. And wasn’t that just his bloody luck?
**
Merlin was sitting on the dock, soaking up whatever rays could get past his SPF-60 sunscreen, looking out toward the lake at the group of boys swimming. Mordred, Gilli and Tristan were splashing around and doing handstands to one-up each other while Gareth, Owain and Edwin were engaged in a game of water basketball. Merlin was happy to see the boys intermingling and getting along.
Arthur had gone up to the camp to fetch some towels, leaving Merlin to supervise. So after coating himself with sunscreen, Merlin had stretched out on the dock so he could keep an eye on his group of boys. Arthur was still barely talking to Merlin but they were at least cooperating when it came to carrying out the duties of being camp leaders.
He heard feet pounding on the dock behind him and before he could turn around to discover the source, Percy and Leon scooped him up and pitched his shorts-and-t-shirt-clothed body toward the lake.
In his periphery, Merlin saw Arthur running down the dock toward them. He was yelling.
“Dammit! He can’t....”
Swim, Merlin’s mind finished for him, as he hit the cool lake water and began to sink like a rock. Merlin couldn’t swim. It was one of the things Arthur had always teased him rather meanly about, at least when they were younger. He would say, “Everyone knows how to swim, Merlin. It doesn’t take much skill.” Maybe so, but it didn’t negate the fact that Merlin had never quite gotten the hang of the whole swimming thing. His mother had spent years trying to coax him into learning, but Merlin preferred dry land, thank you very much.
As he sank, all Merlin could think was how ironic it was that Arthur had just been handed the best opportunity for teasing ever presented to him and he was wasting it, showing concern for Merlin’s safety, of all stupid things. The thought made Merlin giddy, hysterical really. Or maybe it was just the lack of oxygen with the water starting to fill his lungs...
Merlin sputtered up water as he came to, aware of blurry shapes huddled around him. He focused on one of the shapes which turned out to be Arthur, dripping wet and hovering over him, a strange look of worry on his face.
“Jesus Christ, Merlin,” Arthur said, now scowling. “Thought you would have finally learned how to swim.” He stretched up and walked a few paces away, his back turned to Merlin, who was sprawled out on his back on the dock, leaving Percy and Leon still hunched over him.
“I’m so sorry, mate,” Percy said. “We had no idea. If Arthur hadn’t jumped in to save you--”
Wait. What?
He must have looked confused because Leon added, “Dove in and pulled you out. Did that mouth-to-mouth stuff to make you cough up water.”
Mouth-to-mouth stuff? Oh bugger.
Gwen and Freya were now running down the dock toward him, followed by Lance and Gwaine. Merlin saw Arthur trying to usher a worried-looking group of boys, their six along with Percy and Leon’s six, back up toward camp. Merlin was grateful. He hated being the centre of attention even if he had almost drowned and had had to be rescued and apparently resuscitated by Arthur Pendragon.
“Oh, Merlin!” Gwen exclaimed, kneeling down on the dock beside him. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah,” he said, feeling a little disoriented and shaky. Percy and Leon helped him sit up. “Yeah. Arthur rescued me. Gave me mouth-to-mouth.” Merlin giggled. “Does that make him my knight in shining armour?” What the hell. He was rambling. About knights. In shining armour. Giving mouth-to-mouth. Arthur’s lips on his. Again. Fuck.
Gwen smiled kindly at him. “I think you’re in shock, Merlin,” she told him. “Lance called for assistance and paramedics should be here soon to help you. Okay?”
Merlin nodded numbly. “Okay.”
**
Merlin had been left to rest in the cabin to counter the effects of mild shock (the paramedics Lance had called to the camp had determined there was no life-threatening physical shock symptoms) and to regain the strength that had been zapped by the experience of having almost drowned. He had slept for a little while and was now awake, contemplating getting up and maybe seeing if he would be allowed to take a hot shower.
The windows on the cabin front were wide open and a nice breeze was flowing in. Merlin suddenly heard voices being carried in with the breeze that sounded like they were coming from the path leading up to the cabin.
“What are you doing?”
“Coming round to see how Merlin’s doing,” he heard Gwaine say.
“He’s resting,” Arthur replied. Merlin’s mind was still a little foggy but was that a note of protectiveness he detected in Arthur’s voice?
“Shouldn’t you be with your campers?” Gwaine asked and Merlin thought it was a good question.
“Shouldn’t you?” Arthur returned snidely.
“Lance said he’d take point while I checked on Merlin.”
“Gwen’s looking after our group,” was Arthur’s short reply.
There was a full minute’s silence as though the two were sizing each other up, then Gwaine’s voice again.
“You knew Merlin couldn’t swim. Is that why you didn’t press him to go canoeing last week? Let him stay behind with the kid.”
“He hates the water,” Arthur said. “I didn’t see the point.”
Was that why Arthur had told him to stay behind with Gilli? Because he knew Merlin hated the water and couldn’t swim?
“You know,” said Gwaine, sounding thoughtful. “I really don’t get it. You jump in a lake without a thought, like some big hero, to save a bloke you can’t stand from drowning.”
“I can stand Merlin just fine,” he heard Arthur say which was followed by a snort from Gwaine. Merlin may have snorted himself. “So maybe he gets on my last nerve sometimes but--”
“Gets on your last nerve sometimes? You guys fight all the time,” Gwaine interjected. “And by fight, I mean you throw actual punches at each other. Or so I’ve heard.”
“So? Maybe I just like pulling his pigtails. It’s just kind of how we relate, I guess.”
Again with the pigtails. What the hell was it with these blasted pigtails?
Gwaine huffed out a laugh. “How you relate? Are you serious? You know that’s fucked up, right?”
“Yeah.” Merlin heard Arthur huff out a laugh too.
“Look, I could be reading this all wrong,” said Gwaine, “but I don’t think so.” Then he said something that made Merlin bolt upright in his bed. “Some advice, Pendragon. Maybe you should try relating with your lips instead of your fists.”
“What?” came Arthur’s response.
What? Merlin echoed in his head.
“Lips,” Gwaine repeated.
There was the unmistakable sound of exaggerating kissing noises (Gwaine) followed by fitful coughing (Arthur) then a hearty laugh (Gwaine). Merlin had to restrain himself from going into a coughing fit. He covered his mouth with a hand to stifle any outburst. He did not want Gwaine and Arthur to know he was listening.
But seriously. Kissing?
Merlin’s mind looped back to the argument or whatever that was between them in the woods. Arthur had grabbed him and had kissed him - true. And the kiss had felt warm and gentle and amazing. But then Arthur had given him a shove and had told him to “fuck off”. It hadn’t exactly been the most tender or romantic of moments. As far as Merlin was concerned, it had just been Arthur being Arthur.
And what about all this pigtail pulling? Merlin did have to concede that what Arthur said made some sense. They always did relate best through confrontation, which was sometimes verbal and sometimes physical. As far as physical fights went, they were relatively tame. A split lip here, bloody nose there, an occasional black eye. Their fights never amounted to anything serious. Merlin wouldn’t want to actually hurt Arthur - or wreck his gorgeous face but Merlin really didn’t want to go there right now - and he was pretty sure Arthur wouldn’t want to actually hurt him (though he had almost broken Merlin’s nose with a punch over some stupid argument when they were fourteen). The truth was, of all the people in Merlin’s life, Arthur was the one he actually felt closest to, besides his mother, of course. He knew that probably sounded stupid but Merlin couldn’t imagine Arthur not being in his life. Arthur was like gum stuck to the bottom of his shoe. A solid, strangely comforting, if often annoying, presence. The fact that he and Arthur would be going their separate ways at the end of the summer - Merlin would be going off to Albion U and Arthur to Camelot University - bothered Merlin more than he was willing to admit. Arthur Pendragon might be the boy Merlin wanted to punch in the face most of the time, but he was also - and he was aware this sounded completely ludicrous - the one Merlin considered his...well, probably his best friend.
Which explained why Merlin was confused about everything, but especially confused about his feelings for Arthur Pendragon. Why it made him miserable when Arthur ignored him or didn’t talk to him. Why the thought of Arthur actually hating him made him hurt like crazy. Why Arthur kissing him had made his insides tumble.
Maybe Gwaine was right. Maybe what they needed to do was figure out a way that they could relate to each other that involved their lips pressing against each other’s instead of--
“Hey,” Arthur said suddenly, startling Merlin out of his thoughts. He was leaning against the door frame, his expression looking almost...tender?
“Hey.”
“You doing okay?”
“Yeah.”
“Okay. Told Lance I’d check on you.” Arthur crossed his arms and then uncrossed them, looking uncomfortably awkward. Then he said, “Gwaine was by to see how you were doing.”
“Oh.”
“Yeah,” Arthur said. He turned to leave, saying, “I’ll bring you back something to eat if you want to go have a shower.”
“Okay.”
Arthur was then gone and Merlin was left sitting in his bunk, his heart hammering in his chest, certain he would never be capable of coherent (more than one-word, that is) speech around Arthur Pendragon ever again.
**
Merlin recovered quickly from the trauma of almost drowning, though he was finding it difficult to recover from the other trauma - the one that involved feelings for Arthur Pendragon that Merlin was pretty sure had something to do with having a crush on or actually being in love with the prat.
It didn’t help that Arthur was being overly nice to him, carrying on the whole knight in shining armour routine, checking to make sure he was feeling okay, asking him if he needed anything, taking the boys swimming or to the climbing wall and letting Merlin relax and do whatever he wanted. It was strange and awkward - Merlin couldn’t ever remember Arthur being even a tenth this nice to him - but it also warmed his heart and sent his insides a-flutter.
But by the second day, Merlin had had enough of this new nice-as-pie and all-accommodating Arthur. He might have figured out that he was in love with Arthur Pendragon (and probably had been since he was eight years old, if he dared to admit it)and wanted to kiss him instead of fighting with him, but Merlin sort of missed the days where thoughts of strangling Arthur in his sleep predominated. He knew those thoughts, understood them, was strangely comforted by them. These new thoughts, however, and these feelings....they were surely going to be the death of him.
Merlin sat on the step outside the cabin, letting the glow of the moonlight soothe him. The boys had been ‘ordered’ to bed an hour ago and Merlin figured that meant at least three of them were probably asleep. As usual, the camp leaders were relaxing around the campfire but Merlin had elected to stay behind at the cabin tonight, wanting to sift through his own feelings and thoughts.
Somehow it didn’t surprise him to see Arthur coming up the path to their cabin shortly after Merlin had thought he had finally managed to stop thinking about him.
Arthur sat down on the step beside him and slid Merlin a sideways glance. “Watcha doing?” he asked.
“Thinking,” replied Merlin.
“About what?”
You, thought Merlin, but what he said was, “Can I ask you something?”
“Um, sure,” Arthur said.
“Why are you always such a prat to me?” Merlin hadn’t known he was going to ask that question but he supposed it was the question he hoped he’d get an honest answer to. He needed to why Arthur pulled his pigtails, needed to know if Gwen was right.
Arthur didn’t answer right away. Instead, he shifted around some, looking out toward the lake then letting his gaze fall to his feet before settling it back on Merlin - and was Arthur actually blushing? Finally, he said, “Maybe I just want your attention.”
Merlin thought again about what Gwen had said - that Arthur pulled his pigtails to get his attention and pulled them even harder when he felt Merlin was giving too much attention to someone or something else. Like when he shoved Merlin then kissed him after Merlin went on about Gwaine offering to show him around the Albion U campus. Because Merlin’s attention had been on Gwaine, not Arthur. Or like when Arthur had almost broken Merlin’s nose when they were fourteen over some perceived transgression on Arthur’s part that Merlin couldn’t fathom but now remembered might have had something to do with Merlin following around some cute, green-eyed exchange student like a lovesick puppy dog. Or how despicably loathsome Arthur could be when Merlin’s cousin and friend Will was around. Or like how Arthur had punched Merlin in the face after Merlin had made a crack that last week of school about how ecstatic he was that he’d never have to see Arthur’s ugly face again after graduation.
God, Merlin had been so stupid. Gwen had been right. Arthur was crushing on him and pulling Merlin’s pigtails - sometimes really, really hard - was Arthur’s way of trying to get his attention.
“You’re such an idiot,” Merlin told him and watched Arthur’s jaw drop in indignation. Before Arthur could muster up a retort, Merlin continued, “You already have my attention, Arthur. God. You’ve had my attention since we were freakin’ eight years old.”
“You mean when you insulted the honour of my knights then proceeded to smote them?” Arthur replied, but Merlin could see the corner of his mouth tipping up in a half-grin.
“You called my dragon stupid,” Merlin responded. “Besides, your knights were plastic.”
Arthur shrugged. “Yeah. But it was the only project my father ever showed an interest in and helped me with.”
“I didn’t know that.” Merlin was silent for a minute then said, “My dad was a bit of an expert on dragon lore. He left all these books behind so my mom gave them to me to read. I was fascinated with dragons after that.” He looked down at his feet, suddenly feeling embarrassed.
“Oh.” Merlin looked up to find Arthur’s gentle gaze on him. “I didn’t know that.”
“Well, I suppose this may come as a surprise,” Merlin said, “but maybe there’s actually some things we don’t know about each other.”
“Yeah,” Arthur conceded. Then he said, “I’m sorry I called your dragon stupid, Merlin. It was pretty awesome actually.”
“Really? Well, apology ten years late but, uh, thanks.” He looked out toward the moonlit lake then peeked over at Arthur. “So are we...are we okay?” Merlin asked him. He really didn’t know where they were supposed to go from here.
Arthur blew out a sigh and surprised him by saying, “Fuck, Merlin, I don’t know. In a few weeks, you go off to Albion U and I go off to Camelot. And I really don’t know if I’m okay with that.”
Merlin was puzzled. What exactly was Arthur not okay with?
Arthur looked like he was debating with himself so Merlin prodded him on with a raise of his eyebrow. Arthur finally let out a resigned breath and said, “I know this is going to sound really stupid. But you’re--” He raked a hand through his hair and blew out another heavy sigh. “Fuck, Merlin. You’re kind of like my...” he paused, seeming to consider his words, “...well, you’re kind of like my best friend,” Arthur conceded.
“I am?”
“Yeah. But don’t let it go to your head,” Arthur warned. He bumped Merlin’s shoulder with his. “You still have ridiculous ears.”
Merlin grinned. “Yeah, but you like my ridiculous ears,” he said without thinking.
Arthur looked down at his feet and may have blushed. “I kinda do, actually,” Arthur admitted, which made Merlin definitely blush.
A few awkward minutes passed. “Look, I’ve been thinking,” Arthur said finally, sliding a shy glance at Merlin. “Maybe we should...try something.”
“Try something?” Merlin had a pretty good idea what Arthur wanted to try but he wanted to hear Arthur say it.
“Yeah,” Arthur replied, and Merlin could see the rosy blush now settling over his cheekbones.
“Like, uh...like kissing.”
“Kissing?”
Arthur rolled his eyes. “What are you, a parrot? You keep repeating everything I say. Really, Merlin, you are the most infuria--”
Merlin didn’t let him finish. Instead, he abruptly leaned in and pressed his lips to Arthur’s. Arthur expressed a startled grunt but then started kissing Merlin back, pushing his tongue past Merlin’s lips to explore his mouth. Merlin thought it was the most brilliant thing ever.
“Finally!”
This broke the liplock and tongue tango and Merlin and Arthur turned to see a pyjama-clad Mordred standing in the cabin doorway behind them.
“I gotta pee,” he told them. “I’ve been waiting for the last half hour for you two to snog already so Merlin can bring me to the bathrooms.”
Merlin honestly didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. He figured laughing would garner him less embarrassment and far less teasing. “Okay, okay,” he said, still laughing, as Mordred started pulling him toward the bathrooms. Obviously, the kid really had to go.
When they returned from the bathrooms and Mordred had been ushered back into the cabin to bed with a parting, “Go back to kissy-facing with Arthur”, Merlin - now completely embarrassed and wishing a hole would open up so he could jump into it - settled back on the step next to a grinning Arthur.
“Don’t you dare ever say ‘kissy-facing’ in my presence,” Merlin warned him. “Or I will punch you in the face.”
Arthur chuckled and Merlin narrowed his eyes at him. “I won’t, promise,” he said then, “But I do have a proposition for you.” Merlin raised his eyebrows. “Let’s say whenever you have the urge to punch me in the face,” Arthur proposed, “you use your lips and kiss me instead.”
Merlin gave Arthur an incredulous look. Did Arthur realize Merlin thought about punching him at least ten times a day? “You know that means there’s gonna be a lot of kissing.”
Arthur lifted his eyebrows then threw his head back and laughed. Merlin took that to mean that Arthur was okay with that.
**
They spent as much time together as they could the last week of camp, sneaking off into the woods when they were able to snog each other senseless, slipping their hands into each other’s pants to jerk each other off, and sometimes rutting against each other until one or both came. One time, to Merlin’s surprise and utter amazement, Arthur had even gotten down on his knees and had sucked Merlin. Merlin couldn’t help blushing even now, remembering the way he had bucked his hips forward and had come - hot and hard - down Arthur’s throat.
They still argued and fought like cats and dogs. It was, after all, how they best related and Merlin really couldn’t expect Arthur to stop being a prat overnight. On the plus side, their arguments and fights led to really brilliant make-up make-out sessions and Merlin was finally getting close to being able to ignore the smirking and teasing that came from the boys whenever he and Arthur tried to slip away for some ‘alone time’.
**
The day finally came, though, when camp ended and the boys had to go home. Merlin and Arthur helped them pack and the boys all exchanged email addresses with each other and with Merlin and Arthur, and Merlin promised them that he would dutifully reply to all emails he received while Arthur grinned and rolled his eyes at him.
Merlin would not have said it was a tearful goodbye exactly, except that it was - for Merlin at least. He waved and waved until the last car with the last kid pulled away and then he tried to surreptitiously brush the tears that had collected in his eyes away without the other camp leaders noticing, but he was pretty sure Gwen, Lance and Gwaine and probably also Freya, Percy and Leon had caught him at it. Arthur, of course, heckled him mercilessly about it afterward but then he let Merlin sleep in his bunk with him that night to make up for it and they spent pretty much the whole night kissing and groping and kissing some more, so Merlin figured he could forgive him.
Merlin had returned from the showers on leaving day and saw that Arthur had dumped all of Merlin’s stuff out of the cupboards and drawers onto the floor in a heap next to his duffle bag. Merlin goggled. He had asked Arthur to take his clothes out with his own while Merlin went to shower and to set them next to his bag for Merlin to pack, and he clearly remembered hearing Arthur say that he would do this - not throw his clothes out onto the floor into a big, gigantic heap.
“Ugh!” Merlin exclaimed, still goggling. “You are such a--”
“A what?” Arthur asked, a grin playing at his lips.
“Jerk. Pisshead. Arse. Prick. Prat. Jackass. Donkey.”
“You done?” Arthur’s grin grew smugly.
Merlin sniffed. “I guess.”
Arthur cocked an eyebrow and regarded Merlin for a moment. “Donkey? Really?”
Merlin shrugged. “If the tail fits,” he couldn’t help goading.
Arthur narrowed his eyes at him. “Tail? I thought you said it was shoe.”
“Whatev--”
But Arthur fisted Merlin’s t-shirt and yanked him forward, covering his mouth hotly with his own, rendering Merlin incapable of further speech.
“Good to know that shuts you up,” Arthur teased when he finally pulled his mouth away.
Out of habit, Merlin glared at Arthur but couldn’t maintain the glare long. Not when Arthur was looking hot and bothered and staring at Merlin’s lips like he wanted to ravish him some more.
“I can’t believe I’m going to say this,” Merlin said, suddenly feeling a little bit sad now that the reality of camp being over was finally settling in. “But I think I’m really going to miss you.”
Arthur touched his forehead to Merlin’s. “We’ve still got two weeks before we start uni,” he said softly. “And then I’m gonna visit you at Albion and you’re gonna visit me at Camelot. So we’re gonna be together. A lot. Okay?”
“Okay.”
“You’ll probably get sick of me with the amount of together we’re gonna be,” Arthur added for further convincing.
“Yeah, probably.”
Arthur glared at him then burst out laughing.
**
Merlin and Arthur walked to the car park area, their duffle bags swung over one shoulder, the pinkie fingers of their free hands entwined. They could hear their parents bickering even before they saw them.
Hunith Emrys and Uther Pendragon looked over when their sons came into view, their eyes drifting to the boys’ hands, which seemed to stop them in their tracks, all words lost as their mouths fell open.
Arthur grinned at Merlin. “Wow. This might actually be the first time they’ve been rendered speechless.”
Merlin hummed in response and grinned back.
“You know,” Arthur said, “maybe your mom and my dad should hook up.”
Merlin raised an eyebrow. “What? Are you nuts? That’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard.”
“Really? Because I’m sure I’ve heard you say stupider.”
Merlin was getting that familiar urge so, keeping in tune with Arthur’s suggestion, he jerked Arthur toward him and planted a kiss on his mouth.
“Oh, if hand-holding made them speechless,” Arthur whispered, “I can only imagine what effect you kissing me just had on them.”
Merlin really didn’t want to know. He let go of Arthur’s hand and approached his mother, her mouth still hanging open, giving her a peck on the cheek as she wrapped him in a hug.
“I take it camp went well,” Hunith said, glancing over at Arthur, who was greeting his father with a handshake.
“Very well,” Merlin said, smiling.
“So I’m guessing you and Arthur aren’t going to be fighting anymore?” his mother said.
“Oh we’ll probably still fight but I think we’ll find a way to make up,” he told her then blushed when he realized what he had just said.
Arthur and his father were coming over to them. Uther Pendragon had a constipated look on his face but Arthur was grinning.
Uther cleared his throat. “Yes, well,” he said uncomfortably. He cleared his throat and tried again, this time addressing Hunith. “My son and I would very much like to invite you and Merlin to dinner.”
Hunith Emrys raised an eyebrow. “Oh?”
“Yes,” said Uther, who appeared to be regaining his usual confidence.
“Well,” said Hunith, and was that a blush Merlin saw on her cheeks? “Then we’d very much like to accept.”
Uther smiled and Hunith blushed some more.
“Hook up,” Arthur coughed as they followed their smiling and blushing parents to their respective cars.
Merlin went for a smack upside Arthur’s head and was only mildly disappointed when Arthur was able to deflect his attempt and pulled him in for a kiss instead.
**