See-Saws: Part 1 (2011 Big Bang)
Title: (When I Think of Your Kisses, My Mind) See-Saws...
Summary: Modern AU. Sometimes the road to love is paved in ridiculous, if not somewhat awkward Facebook and Twitter posts, far too many pop culture references than are strictly necessary, nosy supporting cast members with insanely large personalities, the establishment of "Comfy Couch of Cuddles and Conversations", and a little bit of liquid courage. Call it a bonus when destiny lives next door. Loosely based on this KMM prompt.
Part One
♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦
Merlin Emrys is not pathetic.
Merlin Emrys is perfectly happy to be a single, gay man.
Merlin Emrys is not going to drown his sorrows in his pint.
Merlin Emrys, Merlin thought, is thinking about himself in third person again. Heaven help him.
Merlin lifted his pint to his mouth and took a long drink, feeling the way the alcohol was sliding down his throat and into his belly to slosh around with the first half of his beer and the Indian food he’d had for dinner. The combination was sure to have some interesting effects on his system the next day, but Merlin was inclined to believe it was worth it.
However, what might not be worth it was that it was a school night. And as much as he had protested to Will and Gwaine, they hadn’t heard a word of it. He had listened to, "lalala, we can’t hear you!" for forty straight minutes as he’d tried to get out of going. Will had even shouted, "Don’t be a fucking pansy!" at the same moment Merlin was opening the door for the delivery man, just for good measure.
Merlin had known the minute he’d got the job at Balor High School that living with Will (and, for the most part, Gwaine) was a seriously bad idea.
Will - who worked at a really great dive bar only a ten-minutes walk from their flat (yet wouldn’t let any of them drink there on his nights off even if they could get cheaper drinks because "it’s bad enough that I work there practically every night of the goddamn week! I’m not subjecting myself to that place anymore than I have to!") - didn’t have to be to work until two in the afternoon at his earliest.
Gwaine, on the other hand, did sometimes have to get up - but hardly ever on a Friday. Merlin cursed the world for allowing Gwaine the opportunity to model a few times a week. It was only for only a couple of hours a day and he still made loads more money than anyone else Merlin knew. Although, if he were honest with himself, he knew it was because Gwaine could smirk the knickers off any woman (and most men), and that was before he took his shirt off. So really, who wouldn’t pay money for that?
Merlin, however, was the practical one in their little tight-knit group. He was the one who had actually gone off to university, unlike Will, and finished, unlike Gwaine. The one who had picked up a job coaching the girls football team at Balor before a teaching position had actually become available. He may not be the best footie player in the world (no matter how much he loved the game), but he knew he’d be a shoo-in when he’d heard the chemistry teacher was a couple of years away from retiring.
Sure, Merlin would have loved to have spent the last couple of years hanging out and, for once in his life, not worrying about studying or being somewhere on time to do this or that. But he had worked hard for too many years, and had watched his mother grin at him with pride too many times, even when she was struggling to pay the bills to keep him in uni, to throw that all away.
He worked his fingers to the bone day-in and day-out, so all his hard work wouldn’t go to waste, while Will, Gwaine and some of his other uni friends had a good ol’ time.
Merlin shook his head and took another long pull from his glass.
When he’d got the job at Balor, he’d been sure he’d have a little more time on his hands to go out and actually have a more active social life. Unfortunately, that was far from the case. If anything, it had got worse.
Instead, he was at uni bright and early every weekday morning, stayed after for footie practice and sometimes stuck around after that to help Freya with whatever in the drama department. Then, of course, there were the additional footie games and practices that had somehow worked themselves into his weekends, even when he was pretty sure those hadn’t been in the job description.
What it all came down to was that Merlin had absolutely no social life. And by social life, he meant sex life.
Merlin Emrys will die from lack of sex, Merlin thought. He drained his pint and tried to slam it down on the bar to signal for another one. Unfortunately - or maybe it was quite fortunate since Merlin really didn’t want to pay for a glass on top of his "half-price before 10" pints tonight - Gwaine’s hand slipped under his glass and stopped it from connecting with the tabletop.
"Cheer up, bud," Gwaine said, sliding into the seat beside him. "You look like someone just shot your dog. This is supposed to be a celebration!"
Merlin watched as Gwaine’s hair seemed to float around his head as he turned to look down the bar to get another couple of pints, like he was in some bloody hair care commercial for girls. And not for the first time, Merlin realized that his Best Friend Numero Two (Gwaine’s nickname for himself, because he has an intense obsession with the movie Anchorman) had one foot in the door to becoming a Greek God. He was absolutely gorgeous and Merlin found himself, once again, wishing that Gwaine was gay.
Or bisexual even. Definitely.
Merlin scoffed out loud and took a drink of his beer. His eyes moved back to see the long line of Gwaine’s neck. It was truly unfortunate that Merlin had absolutely no interest in him what so ever, because his neck alone could produce enough wank material to ensure Merlin’s hands would be forever calloused.
Of course, when Gwaine had first transferred to Ealdor in year 10 from somewhere in the mid-West of America (Merlin wasn’t exactly great at geography, but he was pretty sure Gwaine had said North Dakota), Merlin had felt an intense pull toward Gwaine. And how could he not? Even at 14, Gwaine had been gorgeous. He’d held onto his crush for Gwaine for two full years before finally coming to terms with Gwaine’s sexual orientation...
("He’s straight, Merlin," Will had muttered in annoyance. "Very fucking straight."
Merlin had smirked through his sadness. "Pulling more tail than you, I assume."
"Shut the fuck up, Merlin.")
...and his obvious lack of interest in Merlin...
("Friends?" Gwaine had asked, extending his hand and smiling so wide, Merlin thought he might be blinded if he didn’t look away.
"Mates," he’d answered, his heart breaking a little bit.).
Now? They had known each other far too long and Merlin had seen Gwaine - too many times, if you asked him - at his worst.
For instance, the time Gwaine went through a ridiculous handlebar mustache phase.
(Who would have thought someone as beautiful as Gwaine could look so much like a cross between a ‘70s porn star and a really creepy pedophile?)
Or that time he decided the mullet was making a comeback.
(It so wasn’t... and for good reason.)
Then there was that time when he stopped bathing because he was certain he could single-handedly fix the UK’s worst drought in 50 years.
(Merlin nearly choked on his beer because he could still remember the smell. Was that really only last year?)
Really, it was for the best that Merlin didn’t have romantic feelings for Gwaine any longer. It would be bloody awkward to be in love with your very straight Best Friend Numero Two.
Very awkward, indeed.
"Seriously," Gwaine said, his attention back on Merlin once he’d slid their pints into position, "you look like you’re about to cry, you girl."
Merlin lifted his glass toward Gwaine and nodded, his mouth still tight and down turned. "Cheers, mate," he said and chugged.
Gwaine slapped a hand on his back (Merlin did not nearly choke on his mouth full of beer as his body lurched forward) and gave him a crooked smile etched in apology, before bringing his own to his lips.
When he’d finished drinking, Gwaine looked at Merlin and smiled, "C’mon, man. This is a party for you, after all."
"I still don’t think I quite understand how this is a celebration on my behalf," Merlin said.
Gwaine rolled his eyes, as if Merlin had just said the most ridiculous thing in the entire world. "For being hired at Balor, dude!"
Merlin, despite his poor demeanor, laughed out loud. "Is that the only excuse the two of you could come up with?" Gwaine shrugged and had the decency to look sheepish, if only slightly. "You do realize," Merlin continued, "that I have been a proper employee of Balor for well over three months now, right?"
"Well, you’ve only been teaching a few weeks and we hadn’t celebrated it yet," Gwaine said and tipped his beer toward Merlin. "So, cheers!"
Merlin shook his head and clinked his glass against Gwaine’s and took another drink. Merlin wondered how much alcohol it was going to take to get him thoroughly sloshed tonight, and whether he should call it an evening right now. After all, it was a school night and if the multiple tweets Will and Gwaine had been exchanging (and so very kindly mentioning Merlin in as well) were any indication of how bad it was going to get, it might be best to give his excuses and go.
After he finished his beer, of course.
"Gents!" Will shouted as he slapped a hand on Merlin’s back. Merlin Emrys needs less enthusiastic drunk friends, Merlin thought, as his body swayed forward. "Are we to the toasting stage yet?"
Merlin rolled his eyes and said, "We are not toasting anything tonight," at the same time Gwaine lifted his glass, a huge smile on his beautiful face and said, "I’ve been waiting all night for this!"
♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦
And that was how Merlin found himself, a mere thirty minutes later, squashed companionably between Gwaine and Will, his two best friends in all of existence, and far drunker than he’d been in quite some time. There were several lines of upturned shot glasses and empty pints spread out on the bar before them and Merlin didn’t think it was necessary to count them.
It was a fucking lot.
And he was a fucking lightweight.
Pathetic.
"Alright, mates," Will’s voice broke through Merlin’s alcohol-induced haze. "One more and then I’m off to find a fuck buddy for the night."
Merlin scoffed and attempted to not slur his speech when he said, "I’m sssure you’ll find sssomeone with that physi-... phyilos-... phiso-... attitude." Merlin Emrys was sssloshed.
"You talking to snakes like ol’ Voldie now?" Gwaine asked with a grin, bringing his pint to his lips and taking a long pull.
Merlin, even with his fuzzy brain, was pretty sure that those words had been something exceptionally strange coming from Gwaine’s mouth, but a quick glance at Will - and his Incredulous Face of Doom - confirmed it.
"What. The. Fuck?" Will scoffed, before laughing loudly like Will does when he’s highly amused (and highly drunk). "Voldie? You a Harry Potter fan now, mate?"
Merlin was too drunk to point out the fact that Will only knows who Voldie is because he, too, has read the Harry Potter series (albeit when he was younger, not that he’d ever admit it out loud, and had even dabbled in some fanfiction because he really loved Draco and Hermione together and "J.K. Rowling is a nutter if she doesn’t see their sexual tension, Merlin! NUTTER!" - it was one of those things Merlin was privy to as his best friend), but he made a mental note - yep, that was going to work out just fine - to mock him about it the next day.
While Will laughed, Gwaine’s face turned only slightly rosy - enough to make him look bloody irresistible - and adamantly ignored Will. Of course, Will wasn’t going to stop anytime soon, so Gwaine did what he did best... he flipped his hair.
Merlin tipped his head and mumbled dreamily, "Ou, pretty."
Will, however, only laughed louder before downing the last of his pint. "I am going to torture you about this for the rest of your life, Ryder," he said and slapped Merlin on the back, effectively breaking his hair-flipping daze - if only for a moment. Gwaine just looked down into his pint and continued to move his head back and forth slightly, his hair swooshing gently across his neck. Merlin found himself staring at it... hard.
Will shook his head. "Enough of this homoerotic hair-flip gayness," he announced with a grin. "Time for some pussy!"
Every other man at the bar with them cheered.
♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦
The problem, Merlin realized, was that he is a sloppy, needy drunk. Sure, the hazy, loose feeling in his head and the heavy, relaxed feeling of his limbs straddled the line of pleasant and enjoyable, but the lack of coherent speaking and the way his mind began to run through "you will be alone forever" scenarios was far from euphoric.
Of course, the next morning, Merlin would remember that those feelings happen every time he had too much to drink. But right now? Well, right now, he couldn’t get over how pathetic his life was and how he really needed to find someone to fuck on a regular basis... and soon.
He looked over at Gwaine - faithful and steadfast Gwaine - and smiled crookedly. "Best Friend Numero Two," Merlin managed, "you won't let me be alone for-ev-er, will you?" Merlin liked the emphasis on the word forever. It had absolutely nothing to do with the fact that he had just watched The Sandlot for the millionth time two nights previously. "For-ev-errrr."
Gwaine shook his head and absently gripped Merlin's shoulder. "Naw, man. Never."
Merlin grinned, probably a bit too wide, and looked down at his beer - Hey! When did Merlin Emrys end up with two? - and very nearly pushed it off the back of the bar, before wrapping his hand around it and bringing it to his lips.
Where he quite inelegantly slopped some down his chin and onto his already disheveled shirt. "Merlin Emrys has a hole in his lip," he murmured.
"What was that?" Gwaine asked, his eyes looking far more amused than Merlin suspected they should, considering Gwaine couldn't read his mind. "Who has a hole in his lip?"
Had he actually said that out loud? Bugger. Merlin laughed. "Merlin Emrys."
Gwaine's head tipped back and the loud, raucous laugh made his Adam's apple bob slightly. Merlin did not fantasize about licking it.
When Gwaine finally stopped laughing, he looked back and Merlin and shook his head. "You are hammered," he said good-naturedly. And then his smile slipped slightly. "And please stop looking at me like you'd like to eat me."
Merlin giggled. "I don’t want to eat you, Gwaine! I just want to lick you," Merlin attempted another drink of his beer, feeling a bit of it slop down the front of his shirt again. "You are decidedly quite lickable."
And that’s when Merlin added "brain to mouth filter failure" to his list of drunk traits: sloppy, needy and epic failure. Excellent.
Fortunately for Merlin, Gwaine was laughing. "Good to know, mate," he said, downing his beer and calling for another, all in one graceful motion. How Gwaine could be still functioning like a normal human being after so much alcohol, Merlin would never know. "It’s not the first time you’ve deemed me lickable. I can just be thankful you didn’t come out with fuckable this time." Gwaine grinned at him. "That one might have been over the line."
Merlin smiled and shook his head. "Sorry," he laughed. "I’ll try to remember that next time."
Gwaine gripped Merlin’s shoulder again and nodded, his face suddenly a little too serious for the situation. "Listen, Merlin," he said and it was the first time Merlin noticed the slur in Gwaine’s voice. "I know you’re having a rough time of it. You work hard and you’re hardly ever home and you’re sure you’ll never find someone with the crazy, hectic schedule you have."
Merlin knew his eyes were probably as wide and round as saucers, but he was just a little shocked at how well Gwaine had him pegged (not in the good way, unfortunately), even when he hadn’t said anything.
"But here’s the thing, dude," Gwaine continued. "You will find someone. And you won’t be alone forever, alright?"
Merlin knew it was something near a rhetorical question, but nodded his head anyway. It was the shortest little "listen, Emrys, quit being a right tosser (or flaming, no pun intended, asshole in Gwaine-speak) and buck up (cheer up)," speech Merlin had ever heard, but he liked it. Merlin didn’t need long, drawn-out, and confusing dialogue to get the point, especially when drunk, and he loved Gwaine that much more for it. Will may have been Merlin’s friend since they were in nappies, but Gwaine would always understand him just a little bit better. He didn’t know how, but there you have it.
Gwaine nodded, his smile returning. "Good." He took a a quick gulp from his glass again and wiped a drop from his lip bottom lip. "Now let me make a suggestion." Merlin Emrys is all ears. "Make it happen."
Merlin waited while Gwaine took another swig of his drink. He was expecting more, knew Gwaine would have some advice on "making it happen," but he just grinned over at him and gripped his shoulder a bit more. Of course, Gwaine was a man of few words but really? Really? That was all he had?
If it were possible in his drunken state, Merlin would have rolled his eyes. Instead, he shook his head and said, "Worst. Advice. Ever."
♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦
So maybe Gwaine didn’t give the worst advice in the world. Of course, it hadn’t been all that helpful, but it had made Merlin think. And as difficult as that had proven to be, it had got him looking.
Merlin prided himself on his gaydar; it was impeccable. He liked to boast that in a normal, non-drunk state of being, he could pick out a gay man or woman from fifty feet, in a rainstorm and surrounded by straight people in drag.
Unfortunately, seeing as Merlin was knackered and in the presence of other exceptionally drunken individuals who were throwing their inhibitions to the wind, his gaydar was having a hard time actually picking up on the signs.
Merlin tossed back the rest of his pint (number Fuck Too Many) and then swiveled in his stool to face the rest of the pub. His eyes scanned slowly, not entirely focused on the task at hand (or just focused in general - Merlin Emrys must need glasses that are not referred to as Beer Goggles.), but scanning none the less.
There were men and women gyrating their hips and pressing up against each other in lewd movements, making the air around them heavy with the scent of sweat and sex; Merlin figured it would be best, even if he did want to get laid, to steer clear of them. If he was going to find some sex, it wasn’t going to be in the middle of a dance floor.
In a dark corner near the back, there was a table of six playing some sort of drinking game; not one of them looked very sober (Not that Merlin Emrys has room to talk.), but they looked jolly enough. Merlin figured it would be best to stay away from them as well, since it looked like it was a small party and he wasn’t much of a crasher.
And there was a group of men congregated by the pool tables. Merlin looked them over and then kept scanning. He didn’t even have a reason; he just felt that what he was looking for wasn’t there.
And that was when he saw him - all blond hair and muscles and chiseled jawline - sitting with two girls. Merlin was enthralled, his mouth hanging open and his jeans almost instantly too tight. The first three buttons of the man’s light blue Oxford shirt were open, exposing a delicious neck and Adam’s apple that Merlin was quite sure was even more lickable than Gwaine’s, and the sleeves were rolled up to his elbows, exposing muscled forearms. Merlin pulled his eyes away from the darkish dusting of hair on his chest to see that he had a wide smile and crooked teeth just below an angular nose and light eyes. And his hair... Merlin was pretty sure that the fell out of bed after an entire evening of marathon sex look had probably taken Blondie far too long to achieve, but it didn’t stop Merlin from admiring its shiny, soft quality.
And just like that, Merlin was halfway to the table before he realized that he hadn’t felt like he was being pulled toward him, but that he was actually walking toward his table. Pausing, Merlin took a deep breath. What the bloody fuck is Merlin Emrys doing? Merlin had no idea, but he just felt like it had to happen. Striding more purposefully now - and not at all stumbling in his drunkenness - Merlin walked directly up to the table and...
Holy fuck Blondie was more gorgeous up close. Merlin Emrys is in trouble.
And that was when Merlin’s brain to mouth function failure kicked in again and he heard himself speaking.
"Fuck me if I’m wrong, but isn’t your name Sssteve?" Merlin drawled, doing his best to stand upright and still look sexy. (Merlin Emrys has smoldering eyes.) He was absolutely certain he was doing a fan-fucking-tastic job of it. Unfortunately, the minute the words rolled off his tongue - smoothly, of course, like buttah - he realized that it might have been a little too forward of a pick-up line. And that was definitely not what he had intended on using when waltzing over (you know, as if he had planned out this entire thing ahead of time).
He barely register the slightly alarmed look on the blonde's face.
Merlin shook his head. "No, no. Wait. What I meant was, hi, I’m Mr. Right," Merlin extended his hand to shake Blondie’s, but tripped in the process and had to slam it down on the table to keep himself from falling. Again, smoothly. "Someone said you were looking for me," he finished.
Blondie was... there wasn’t even a word powerful enough to explain how fucking perfect he was. Merlin was finding himself staring, even as he was readying his next line. His eyes were impossibly blue and his golden hair seemed to glow about his head like he was wearing a halo. The line of his jaw was hard and smooth and Merlin wanted to reach out and touch it, stroke it... nibble it. Merlin smirked sexily.
He only lifted his brow at Merlin, but he was pretty certain he saw the corner of his beautiful mouth (Merlin Emrys is going to have hours of fantasies about fucking that magnificent mouth.) lift, as well. Blondie flicked his eyes over to his two companions and Merlin followed his gaze. Blondie liked to travel with a sexy entourage, evident by the fact that the women with him were sexy, sophisticated and stunning. He was certain there was not a single straight man in the building that hadn’t noticed this and Merlin was secure enough in his homosexuality to notice and admire the aesthetic beauty of these females. The fact that they were sitting across from Blondie, however, was why Merlin was absolutely certain that coming over here was a fantastic idea. Blondie was gay. So gay.
Merlin nodded at the girls. "Ladiesss," he said, increasingly proud of himself for only slurring a little bit. They were both beaming at him. "I need your help."
Merlin watched them glance at each other before the fae-looking one turned her green eyes on him and quipped, "We’ll do the best we can."
Merlin Emrys likes her already.
"Do you have a map handy?" Merlin smiled, before he jerked his thumb over in Blondie’s direction. "Because I keep getting lost in this guy’s eyes." When the girls giggled, Merlin turned to look back at Blondie, who was looking down at the table and shaking his head, but he had a smile on his pink face.
Encouraged, Merlin winked at him. "Did it hurt?" he asked. And even though he knew he was supposed to wait for the question Did what hurt?, Merlin just kept right on. Because he was on a roooooooooll. "When you fell from heaven," he said. "It must have."
He got a genuine smile from Blondie that time and Merlin did an internal fist pump. Merlin Emrys has got this in.the.bag.
Just as Merlin was about to slide himself in beside Blondie, ready to come out with the best line yet (I think you have something in your eye. Oh, no, that’s just a sparkle.) followed up with some sexy winking, Gwaine sauntered over.
"There you are, Merlin," he said. "I’ve been looking all over for you."
Merlin grinned. "Well, you’ve found me," he said, his eyes bright. "And the future mister." Merlin gestured grandly to the table. "He’s gorgeous, right?"
Gwaine grinned and winked at the two ladies sitting with Blondie, before nodding at Merlin. "Yeah, buddy. Gorgeous."
"Right!" Merlin beamed. "If looks could kill, he’d be a weapon of mass destruction!"
Gwaine laughed... hard (Merlin Emrys is not being funny right now.) and threw his arm around Merlin’s shoulder, good-naturedly. "I think you’re hammered, friend," he said. "Maybe we should get you home, so you can sleep it off."
"I’m not drunk," Merlin drawled at Gwaine’s shoulder, because he wasn’t sure when it happened, but Gwaine was now taller than Merlin and he couldn’t reach his ear. "I’m just intoxicated by him." He made sure to emphasize his point by darting his big eyes over at Blondie and pointing. Then he laughed. Merlin Emrys has the best pick-up lines. Ever.
"Mmhmmm," Gwaine said, amusement evident in his voice, even if Merlin was too drunk to realize it. "Well, good to know. I’m sure this guy is perfectly happy to know that as well, aren’t you?"
Merlin watched as Blondie’s face contorted into a smirk. "Oh yes," he said. "Very." Merlin’s answering smile looked like it could break his face. They were the first words Blondie had said since he had sauntered over to their table and dammit if his knees didn’t get weak. Thank God for Gwaine holding him up, lest he become a puddle of goo in the middle of the floor.
"See!" Gwaine grinned and slapped Merlin’s shoulder. "Wonderful. Now tell the man and his exceptionally pretty girlfriends goodbye and that you’re sorry for interrupting their evening."
Merlin looked aghast. "But I’m not sorry at all!" He heard the two girls giggle and smiled at them. "And I didn’t interrupt your evening, did I, ladies?"
The one with the curly hair and angelic smile said, "Absolutely not. Quite the opposite, really."
"Absolutely," the other agreed. "He has made tonight far more entertaining than we ever imagined." Her eyes seemed to flash gold when she turned to Blondie and Merlin got excited when he realized he was going to hear him speak again. "What do you think, Arthur?"
ARTHUR! Merlin nearly fell over again. There were signs and then there were signs. Blondie’s name was actually Arthur. And Merlin’s name was Merlin! It was like destiny!
Arthur shook his head and chuckled - a deep sound in the back of his throat that made a shiver run up Merlin’s spine (not to mention, instantly had his mind racing toward other possibilities of what his throat would be good for) - but refused to look at Merlin when he said, "Best night ever," in a low, amused voice.
Merlin was in such a state of shock, he couldn’t even get out another pick up line.
"I hope you know CPR, because you just took my breath away." Okay, maybe not that shocked.
Gwaine snorted loudly. "Oh, Merlin!" Gwaine laughed and his gaze was drawn away from the sight of Arthur’s rosy cheeks to look at his Best Friend Numero Two. "You’re so lucky Will didn’t see this. You’d never live it down." Gwaine shook his head, still laughing. "You are so done now."
Before Merlin knew what was happening or could even respond, Gwaine was tipping his head toward their table and saying, "Sorry about this," and "You all have a great evening," as he backed Merlin away with a firm grip on his shoulder.
"But--" Merlin started and was hushed by Gwaine’s whispered, "You’ll thank me later." Merlin Emrys isn’t so sure about that!
But there was no stopping Gwaine as he pulled (Merlin Emrys will not be manhandled, thankyouverymuch.) him backward and away from his destiny. Merlin’s last ditch effort was to throw out another pick up line.
"This is a test of the Emergency Pick Up Line service. Beeeeeeeeeeeeep!" Merlin called as Gwaine continued to pull him away, laughing a little too much. "If you had been any less hot, you would have just heard a bad pick up line."
Merlin couldn’t see Arthur through the crowd anymore, but he was pretty sure he felt his grin.
♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦
Summary: Modern AU. Sometimes the road to love is paved in ridiculous, if not somewhat awkward Facebook and Twitter posts, far too many pop culture references than are strictly necessary, nosy supporting cast members with insanely large personalities, the establishment of "Comfy Couch of Cuddles and Conversations", and a little bit of liquid courage. Call it a bonus when destiny lives next door. Loosely based on this KMM prompt.
Part One
♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦
Merlin Emrys is not pathetic.
Merlin Emrys is perfectly happy to be a single, gay man.
Merlin Emrys is not going to drown his sorrows in his pint.
Merlin Emrys, Merlin thought, is thinking about himself in third person again. Heaven help him.
Merlin lifted his pint to his mouth and took a long drink, feeling the way the alcohol was sliding down his throat and into his belly to slosh around with the first half of his beer and the Indian food he’d had for dinner. The combination was sure to have some interesting effects on his system the next day, but Merlin was inclined to believe it was worth it.
However, what might not be worth it was that it was a school night. And as much as he had protested to Will and Gwaine, they hadn’t heard a word of it. He had listened to, "lalala, we can’t hear you!" for forty straight minutes as he’d tried to get out of going. Will had even shouted, "Don’t be a fucking pansy!" at the same moment Merlin was opening the door for the delivery man, just for good measure.
Merlin had known the minute he’d got the job at Balor High School that living with Will (and, for the most part, Gwaine) was a seriously bad idea.
Will - who worked at a really great dive bar only a ten-minutes walk from their flat (yet wouldn’t let any of them drink there on his nights off even if they could get cheaper drinks because "it’s bad enough that I work there practically every night of the goddamn week! I’m not subjecting myself to that place anymore than I have to!") - didn’t have to be to work until two in the afternoon at his earliest.
Gwaine, on the other hand, did sometimes have to get up - but hardly ever on a Friday. Merlin cursed the world for allowing Gwaine the opportunity to model a few times a week. It was only for only a couple of hours a day and he still made loads more money than anyone else Merlin knew. Although, if he were honest with himself, he knew it was because Gwaine could smirk the knickers off any woman (and most men), and that was before he took his shirt off. So really, who wouldn’t pay money for that?
Merlin, however, was the practical one in their little tight-knit group. He was the one who had actually gone off to university, unlike Will, and finished, unlike Gwaine. The one who had picked up a job coaching the girls football team at Balor before a teaching position had actually become available. He may not be the best footie player in the world (no matter how much he loved the game), but he knew he’d be a shoo-in when he’d heard the chemistry teacher was a couple of years away from retiring.
Sure, Merlin would have loved to have spent the last couple of years hanging out and, for once in his life, not worrying about studying or being somewhere on time to do this or that. But he had worked hard for too many years, and had watched his mother grin at him with pride too many times, even when she was struggling to pay the bills to keep him in uni, to throw that all away.
He worked his fingers to the bone day-in and day-out, so all his hard work wouldn’t go to waste, while Will, Gwaine and some of his other uni friends had a good ol’ time.
Merlin shook his head and took another long pull from his glass.
When he’d got the job at Balor, he’d been sure he’d have a little more time on his hands to go out and actually have a more active social life. Unfortunately, that was far from the case. If anything, it had got worse.
Instead, he was at uni bright and early every weekday morning, stayed after for footie practice and sometimes stuck around after that to help Freya with whatever in the drama department. Then, of course, there were the additional footie games and practices that had somehow worked themselves into his weekends, even when he was pretty sure those hadn’t been in the job description.
What it all came down to was that Merlin had absolutely no social life. And by social life, he meant sex life.
Merlin Emrys will die from lack of sex, Merlin thought. He drained his pint and tried to slam it down on the bar to signal for another one. Unfortunately - or maybe it was quite fortunate since Merlin really didn’t want to pay for a glass on top of his "half-price before 10" pints tonight - Gwaine’s hand slipped under his glass and stopped it from connecting with the tabletop.
"Cheer up, bud," Gwaine said, sliding into the seat beside him. "You look like someone just shot your dog. This is supposed to be a celebration!"
Merlin watched as Gwaine’s hair seemed to float around his head as he turned to look down the bar to get another couple of pints, like he was in some bloody hair care commercial for girls. And not for the first time, Merlin realized that his Best Friend Numero Two (Gwaine’s nickname for himself, because he has an intense obsession with the movie Anchorman) had one foot in the door to becoming a Greek God. He was absolutely gorgeous and Merlin found himself, once again, wishing that Gwaine was gay.
Or bisexual even. Definitely.
Merlin scoffed out loud and took a drink of his beer. His eyes moved back to see the long line of Gwaine’s neck. It was truly unfortunate that Merlin had absolutely no interest in him what so ever, because his neck alone could produce enough wank material to ensure Merlin’s hands would be forever calloused.
Of course, when Gwaine had first transferred to Ealdor in year 10 from somewhere in the mid-West of America (Merlin wasn’t exactly great at geography, but he was pretty sure Gwaine had said North Dakota), Merlin had felt an intense pull toward Gwaine. And how could he not? Even at 14, Gwaine had been gorgeous. He’d held onto his crush for Gwaine for two full years before finally coming to terms with Gwaine’s sexual orientation...
("He’s straight, Merlin," Will had muttered in annoyance. "Very fucking straight."
Merlin had smirked through his sadness. "Pulling more tail than you, I assume."
"Shut the fuck up, Merlin.")
...and his obvious lack of interest in Merlin...
("Friends?" Gwaine had asked, extending his hand and smiling so wide, Merlin thought he might be blinded if he didn’t look away.
"Mates," he’d answered, his heart breaking a little bit.).
Now? They had known each other far too long and Merlin had seen Gwaine - too many times, if you asked him - at his worst.
For instance, the time Gwaine went through a ridiculous handlebar mustache phase.
(Who would have thought someone as beautiful as Gwaine could look so much like a cross between a ‘70s porn star and a really creepy pedophile?)
Or that time he decided the mullet was making a comeback.
(It so wasn’t... and for good reason.)
Then there was that time when he stopped bathing because he was certain he could single-handedly fix the UK’s worst drought in 50 years.
(Merlin nearly choked on his beer because he could still remember the smell. Was that really only last year?)
Really, it was for the best that Merlin didn’t have romantic feelings for Gwaine any longer. It would be bloody awkward to be in love with your very straight Best Friend Numero Two.
Very awkward, indeed.
"Seriously," Gwaine said, his attention back on Merlin once he’d slid their pints into position, "you look like you’re about to cry, you girl."
Merlin lifted his glass toward Gwaine and nodded, his mouth still tight and down turned. "Cheers, mate," he said and chugged.
Gwaine slapped a hand on his back (Merlin did not nearly choke on his mouth full of beer as his body lurched forward) and gave him a crooked smile etched in apology, before bringing his own to his lips.
When he’d finished drinking, Gwaine looked at Merlin and smiled, "C’mon, man. This is a party for you, after all."
"I still don’t think I quite understand how this is a celebration on my behalf," Merlin said.
Gwaine rolled his eyes, as if Merlin had just said the most ridiculous thing in the entire world. "For being hired at Balor, dude!"
Merlin, despite his poor demeanor, laughed out loud. "Is that the only excuse the two of you could come up with?" Gwaine shrugged and had the decency to look sheepish, if only slightly. "You do realize," Merlin continued, "that I have been a proper employee of Balor for well over three months now, right?"
"Well, you’ve only been teaching a few weeks and we hadn’t celebrated it yet," Gwaine said and tipped his beer toward Merlin. "So, cheers!"
Merlin shook his head and clinked his glass against Gwaine’s and took another drink. Merlin wondered how much alcohol it was going to take to get him thoroughly sloshed tonight, and whether he should call it an evening right now. After all, it was a school night and if the multiple tweets Will and Gwaine had been exchanging (and so very kindly mentioning Merlin in as well) were any indication of how bad it was going to get, it might be best to give his excuses and go.
After he finished his beer, of course.
"Gents!" Will shouted as he slapped a hand on Merlin’s back. Merlin Emrys needs less enthusiastic drunk friends, Merlin thought, as his body swayed forward. "Are we to the toasting stage yet?"
Merlin rolled his eyes and said, "We are not toasting anything tonight," at the same time Gwaine lifted his glass, a huge smile on his beautiful face and said, "I’ve been waiting all night for this!"
♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦
And that was how Merlin found himself, a mere thirty minutes later, squashed companionably between Gwaine and Will, his two best friends in all of existence, and far drunker than he’d been in quite some time. There were several lines of upturned shot glasses and empty pints spread out on the bar before them and Merlin didn’t think it was necessary to count them.
It was a fucking lot.
And he was a fucking lightweight.
Pathetic.
"Alright, mates," Will’s voice broke through Merlin’s alcohol-induced haze. "One more and then I’m off to find a fuck buddy for the night."
Merlin scoffed and attempted to not slur his speech when he said, "I’m sssure you’ll find sssomeone with that physi-... phyilos-... phiso-... attitude." Merlin Emrys was sssloshed.
"You talking to snakes like ol’ Voldie now?" Gwaine asked with a grin, bringing his pint to his lips and taking a long pull.
Merlin, even with his fuzzy brain, was pretty sure that those words had been something exceptionally strange coming from Gwaine’s mouth, but a quick glance at Will - and his Incredulous Face of Doom - confirmed it.
"What. The. Fuck?" Will scoffed, before laughing loudly like Will does when he’s highly amused (and highly drunk). "Voldie? You a Harry Potter fan now, mate?"
Merlin was too drunk to point out the fact that Will only knows who Voldie is because he, too, has read the Harry Potter series (albeit when he was younger, not that he’d ever admit it out loud, and had even dabbled in some fanfiction because he really loved Draco and Hermione together and "J.K. Rowling is a nutter if she doesn’t see their sexual tension, Merlin! NUTTER!" - it was one of those things Merlin was privy to as his best friend), but he made a mental note - yep, that was going to work out just fine - to mock him about it the next day.
While Will laughed, Gwaine’s face turned only slightly rosy - enough to make him look bloody irresistible - and adamantly ignored Will. Of course, Will wasn’t going to stop anytime soon, so Gwaine did what he did best... he flipped his hair.
Merlin tipped his head and mumbled dreamily, "Ou, pretty."
Will, however, only laughed louder before downing the last of his pint. "I am going to torture you about this for the rest of your life, Ryder," he said and slapped Merlin on the back, effectively breaking his hair-flipping daze - if only for a moment. Gwaine just looked down into his pint and continued to move his head back and forth slightly, his hair swooshing gently across his neck. Merlin found himself staring at it... hard.
Will shook his head. "Enough of this homoerotic hair-flip gayness," he announced with a grin. "Time for some pussy!"
Every other man at the bar with them cheered.
♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦
The problem, Merlin realized, was that he is a sloppy, needy drunk. Sure, the hazy, loose feeling in his head and the heavy, relaxed feeling of his limbs straddled the line of pleasant and enjoyable, but the lack of coherent speaking and the way his mind began to run through "you will be alone forever" scenarios was far from euphoric.
Of course, the next morning, Merlin would remember that those feelings happen every time he had too much to drink. But right now? Well, right now, he couldn’t get over how pathetic his life was and how he really needed to find someone to fuck on a regular basis... and soon.
He looked over at Gwaine - faithful and steadfast Gwaine - and smiled crookedly. "Best Friend Numero Two," Merlin managed, "you won't let me be alone for-ev-er, will you?" Merlin liked the emphasis on the word forever. It had absolutely nothing to do with the fact that he had just watched The Sandlot for the millionth time two nights previously. "For-ev-errrr."
Gwaine shook his head and absently gripped Merlin's shoulder. "Naw, man. Never."
Merlin grinned, probably a bit too wide, and looked down at his beer - Hey! When did Merlin Emrys end up with two? - and very nearly pushed it off the back of the bar, before wrapping his hand around it and bringing it to his lips.
Where he quite inelegantly slopped some down his chin and onto his already disheveled shirt. "Merlin Emrys has a hole in his lip," he murmured.
"What was that?" Gwaine asked, his eyes looking far more amused than Merlin suspected they should, considering Gwaine couldn't read his mind. "Who has a hole in his lip?"
Had he actually said that out loud? Bugger. Merlin laughed. "Merlin Emrys."
Gwaine's head tipped back and the loud, raucous laugh made his Adam's apple bob slightly. Merlin did not fantasize about licking it.
When Gwaine finally stopped laughing, he looked back and Merlin and shook his head. "You are hammered," he said good-naturedly. And then his smile slipped slightly. "And please stop looking at me like you'd like to eat me."
Merlin giggled. "I don’t want to eat you, Gwaine! I just want to lick you," Merlin attempted another drink of his beer, feeling a bit of it slop down the front of his shirt again. "You are decidedly quite lickable."
And that’s when Merlin added "brain to mouth filter failure" to his list of drunk traits: sloppy, needy and epic failure. Excellent.
Fortunately for Merlin, Gwaine was laughing. "Good to know, mate," he said, downing his beer and calling for another, all in one graceful motion. How Gwaine could be still functioning like a normal human being after so much alcohol, Merlin would never know. "It’s not the first time you’ve deemed me lickable. I can just be thankful you didn’t come out with fuckable this time." Gwaine grinned at him. "That one might have been over the line."
Merlin smiled and shook his head. "Sorry," he laughed. "I’ll try to remember that next time."
Gwaine gripped Merlin’s shoulder again and nodded, his face suddenly a little too serious for the situation. "Listen, Merlin," he said and it was the first time Merlin noticed the slur in Gwaine’s voice. "I know you’re having a rough time of it. You work hard and you’re hardly ever home and you’re sure you’ll never find someone with the crazy, hectic schedule you have."
Merlin knew his eyes were probably as wide and round as saucers, but he was just a little shocked at how well Gwaine had him pegged (not in the good way, unfortunately), even when he hadn’t said anything.
"But here’s the thing, dude," Gwaine continued. "You will find someone. And you won’t be alone forever, alright?"
Merlin knew it was something near a rhetorical question, but nodded his head anyway. It was the shortest little "listen, Emrys, quit being a right tosser (or flaming, no pun intended, asshole in Gwaine-speak) and buck up (cheer up)," speech Merlin had ever heard, but he liked it. Merlin didn’t need long, drawn-out, and confusing dialogue to get the point, especially when drunk, and he loved Gwaine that much more for it. Will may have been Merlin’s friend since they were in nappies, but Gwaine would always understand him just a little bit better. He didn’t know how, but there you have it.
Gwaine nodded, his smile returning. "Good." He took a a quick gulp from his glass again and wiped a drop from his lip bottom lip. "Now let me make a suggestion." Merlin Emrys is all ears. "Make it happen."
Merlin waited while Gwaine took another swig of his drink. He was expecting more, knew Gwaine would have some advice on "making it happen," but he just grinned over at him and gripped his shoulder a bit more. Of course, Gwaine was a man of few words but really? Really? That was all he had?
If it were possible in his drunken state, Merlin would have rolled his eyes. Instead, he shook his head and said, "Worst. Advice. Ever."
♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦
So maybe Gwaine didn’t give the worst advice in the world. Of course, it hadn’t been all that helpful, but it had made Merlin think. And as difficult as that had proven to be, it had got him looking.
Merlin prided himself on his gaydar; it was impeccable. He liked to boast that in a normal, non-drunk state of being, he could pick out a gay man or woman from fifty feet, in a rainstorm and surrounded by straight people in drag.
Unfortunately, seeing as Merlin was knackered and in the presence of other exceptionally drunken individuals who were throwing their inhibitions to the wind, his gaydar was having a hard time actually picking up on the signs.
Merlin tossed back the rest of his pint (number Fuck Too Many) and then swiveled in his stool to face the rest of the pub. His eyes scanned slowly, not entirely focused on the task at hand (or just focused in general - Merlin Emrys must need glasses that are not referred to as Beer Goggles.), but scanning none the less.
There were men and women gyrating their hips and pressing up against each other in lewd movements, making the air around them heavy with the scent of sweat and sex; Merlin figured it would be best, even if he did want to get laid, to steer clear of them. If he was going to find some sex, it wasn’t going to be in the middle of a dance floor.
In a dark corner near the back, there was a table of six playing some sort of drinking game; not one of them looked very sober (Not that Merlin Emrys has room to talk.), but they looked jolly enough. Merlin figured it would be best to stay away from them as well, since it looked like it was a small party and he wasn’t much of a crasher.
And there was a group of men congregated by the pool tables. Merlin looked them over and then kept scanning. He didn’t even have a reason; he just felt that what he was looking for wasn’t there.
And that was when he saw him - all blond hair and muscles and chiseled jawline - sitting with two girls. Merlin was enthralled, his mouth hanging open and his jeans almost instantly too tight. The first three buttons of the man’s light blue Oxford shirt were open, exposing a delicious neck and Adam’s apple that Merlin was quite sure was even more lickable than Gwaine’s, and the sleeves were rolled up to his elbows, exposing muscled forearms. Merlin pulled his eyes away from the darkish dusting of hair on his chest to see that he had a wide smile and crooked teeth just below an angular nose and light eyes. And his hair... Merlin was pretty sure that the fell out of bed after an entire evening of marathon sex look had probably taken Blondie far too long to achieve, but it didn’t stop Merlin from admiring its shiny, soft quality.
And just like that, Merlin was halfway to the table before he realized that he hadn’t felt like he was being pulled toward him, but that he was actually walking toward his table. Pausing, Merlin took a deep breath. What the bloody fuck is Merlin Emrys doing? Merlin had no idea, but he just felt like it had to happen. Striding more purposefully now - and not at all stumbling in his drunkenness - Merlin walked directly up to the table and...
Holy fuck Blondie was more gorgeous up close. Merlin Emrys is in trouble.
And that was when Merlin’s brain to mouth function failure kicked in again and he heard himself speaking.
"Fuck me if I’m wrong, but isn’t your name Sssteve?" Merlin drawled, doing his best to stand upright and still look sexy. (Merlin Emrys has smoldering eyes.) He was absolutely certain he was doing a fan-fucking-tastic job of it. Unfortunately, the minute the words rolled off his tongue - smoothly, of course, like buttah - he realized that it might have been a little too forward of a pick-up line. And that was definitely not what he had intended on using when waltzing over (you know, as if he had planned out this entire thing ahead of time).
He barely register the slightly alarmed look on the blonde's face.
Merlin shook his head. "No, no. Wait. What I meant was, hi, I’m Mr. Right," Merlin extended his hand to shake Blondie’s, but tripped in the process and had to slam it down on the table to keep himself from falling. Again, smoothly. "Someone said you were looking for me," he finished.
Blondie was... there wasn’t even a word powerful enough to explain how fucking perfect he was. Merlin was finding himself staring, even as he was readying his next line. His eyes were impossibly blue and his golden hair seemed to glow about his head like he was wearing a halo. The line of his jaw was hard and smooth and Merlin wanted to reach out and touch it, stroke it... nibble it. Merlin smirked sexily.
He only lifted his brow at Merlin, but he was pretty certain he saw the corner of his beautiful mouth (Merlin Emrys is going to have hours of fantasies about fucking that magnificent mouth.) lift, as well. Blondie flicked his eyes over to his two companions and Merlin followed his gaze. Blondie liked to travel with a sexy entourage, evident by the fact that the women with him were sexy, sophisticated and stunning. He was certain there was not a single straight man in the building that hadn’t noticed this and Merlin was secure enough in his homosexuality to notice and admire the aesthetic beauty of these females. The fact that they were sitting across from Blondie, however, was why Merlin was absolutely certain that coming over here was a fantastic idea. Blondie was gay. So gay.
Merlin nodded at the girls. "Ladiesss," he said, increasingly proud of himself for only slurring a little bit. They were both beaming at him. "I need your help."
Merlin watched them glance at each other before the fae-looking one turned her green eyes on him and quipped, "We’ll do the best we can."
Merlin Emrys likes her already.
"Do you have a map handy?" Merlin smiled, before he jerked his thumb over in Blondie’s direction. "Because I keep getting lost in this guy’s eyes." When the girls giggled, Merlin turned to look back at Blondie, who was looking down at the table and shaking his head, but he had a smile on his pink face.
Encouraged, Merlin winked at him. "Did it hurt?" he asked. And even though he knew he was supposed to wait for the question Did what hurt?, Merlin just kept right on. Because he was on a roooooooooll. "When you fell from heaven," he said. "It must have."
He got a genuine smile from Blondie that time and Merlin did an internal fist pump. Merlin Emrys has got this in.the.bag.
Just as Merlin was about to slide himself in beside Blondie, ready to come out with the best line yet (I think you have something in your eye. Oh, no, that’s just a sparkle.) followed up with some sexy winking, Gwaine sauntered over.
"There you are, Merlin," he said. "I’ve been looking all over for you."
Merlin grinned. "Well, you’ve found me," he said, his eyes bright. "And the future mister." Merlin gestured grandly to the table. "He’s gorgeous, right?"
Gwaine grinned and winked at the two ladies sitting with Blondie, before nodding at Merlin. "Yeah, buddy. Gorgeous."
"Right!" Merlin beamed. "If looks could kill, he’d be a weapon of mass destruction!"
Gwaine laughed... hard (Merlin Emrys is not being funny right now.) and threw his arm around Merlin’s shoulder, good-naturedly. "I think you’re hammered, friend," he said. "Maybe we should get you home, so you can sleep it off."
"I’m not drunk," Merlin drawled at Gwaine’s shoulder, because he wasn’t sure when it happened, but Gwaine was now taller than Merlin and he couldn’t reach his ear. "I’m just intoxicated by him." He made sure to emphasize his point by darting his big eyes over at Blondie and pointing. Then he laughed. Merlin Emrys has the best pick-up lines. Ever.
"Mmhmmm," Gwaine said, amusement evident in his voice, even if Merlin was too drunk to realize it. "Well, good to know. I’m sure this guy is perfectly happy to know that as well, aren’t you?"
Merlin watched as Blondie’s face contorted into a smirk. "Oh yes," he said. "Very." Merlin’s answering smile looked like it could break his face. They were the first words Blondie had said since he had sauntered over to their table and dammit if his knees didn’t get weak. Thank God for Gwaine holding him up, lest he become a puddle of goo in the middle of the floor.
"See!" Gwaine grinned and slapped Merlin’s shoulder. "Wonderful. Now tell the man and his exceptionally pretty girlfriends goodbye and that you’re sorry for interrupting their evening."
Merlin looked aghast. "But I’m not sorry at all!" He heard the two girls giggle and smiled at them. "And I didn’t interrupt your evening, did I, ladies?"
The one with the curly hair and angelic smile said, "Absolutely not. Quite the opposite, really."
"Absolutely," the other agreed. "He has made tonight far more entertaining than we ever imagined." Her eyes seemed to flash gold when she turned to Blondie and Merlin got excited when he realized he was going to hear him speak again. "What do you think, Arthur?"
ARTHUR! Merlin nearly fell over again. There were signs and then there were signs. Blondie’s name was actually Arthur. And Merlin’s name was Merlin! It was like destiny!
Arthur shook his head and chuckled - a deep sound in the back of his throat that made a shiver run up Merlin’s spine (not to mention, instantly had his mind racing toward other possibilities of what his throat would be good for) - but refused to look at Merlin when he said, "Best night ever," in a low, amused voice.
Merlin was in such a state of shock, he couldn’t even get out another pick up line.
"I hope you know CPR, because you just took my breath away." Okay, maybe not that shocked.
Gwaine snorted loudly. "Oh, Merlin!" Gwaine laughed and his gaze was drawn away from the sight of Arthur’s rosy cheeks to look at his Best Friend Numero Two. "You’re so lucky Will didn’t see this. You’d never live it down." Gwaine shook his head, still laughing. "You are so done now."
Before Merlin knew what was happening or could even respond, Gwaine was tipping his head toward their table and saying, "Sorry about this," and "You all have a great evening," as he backed Merlin away with a firm grip on his shoulder.
"But--" Merlin started and was hushed by Gwaine’s whispered, "You’ll thank me later." Merlin Emrys isn’t so sure about that!
But there was no stopping Gwaine as he pulled (Merlin Emrys will not be manhandled, thankyouverymuch.) him backward and away from his destiny. Merlin’s last ditch effort was to throw out another pick up line.
"This is a test of the Emergency Pick Up Line service. Beeeeeeeeeeeeep!" Merlin called as Gwaine continued to pull him away, laughing a little too much. "If you had been any less hot, you would have just heard a bad pick up line."
Merlin couldn’t see Arthur through the crowd anymore, but he was pretty sure he felt his grin.
♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦