Ficlet (Merlin): Noble Intentions
Fandom: Merlin
Title: Noble Intentions (fluff doesn't get to have a clever title)
Author:
kianspo
Beta:
secret_chord25 (I forced her)
Pairing: Arthur/Merlin (references to Gwaine/Elena)
Genre: modern AU, romance, fluff, first time
Rating: PG-13
Word count: ~ 1980
Warnings: Um, your dentist will hate me? Also, gratuitous consumption of alcohol.
Spoilers: none
Summary: Arthur needs to tell Merlin some really bad news. He needs liquid courage to do it.
A/N: I have NO IDEA what's wrong with me. No really.
Arthur orders four shots and two pints. The moment the drinks arrive, he drinks down two shots, surveys the table, orders eight more, and takes down another two. The barmaid gives him a funny look but doesn’t say anything beyond a telltale curving of her eyebrows.
Arthur stares down at the assembled alcohol. He arranges the shots in a perfectly straight line and sets the pints at either side of it, like bastions guarding a castle wall. Arthur sighs. It seems like an extremely inadequate line of defence against what he knows is coming.
Merlin is late as always. Arthur has been watching the door for at least twenty minutes when Merlin finally stumbles in, shaking off his coat, rain drops glistening in his hair. He looks windswept and his cheeks are flushed from the cold, but he’s smiling slightly, his eyes sliding closed for a moment as the warm air inside engulfs him. He might be purring in pleasure, because a passing girl gives him an amused look and Merlin grins at her in a mild apology.
Then he spots Arthur, and the wattage of his smile hits maximum.
Merlin leaves his coat but keeps his scarf. He’s tugging at the sleeves of his thin black jumper so that they’ll cover his knuckles as he makes his way toward Arthur, looking a little like a teen magazine model and a lot like a drenched puppy.
Arthur drinks down another shot and thinks that he’s going to kill Gwaine, or at the very least beat him up good. The bastard deserves it.
“I’m so sorry, Arthur,” Merlin starts breathlessly, eyes huge and impossibly earnest. “I got stuck at work, then missed my ride, and then the bloody train stopped - can you believe it - and then I forgot they closed down the Gray’s for reconstruction and had to walk around and I only just got here, I’m so sorry. Have you been waiting long?”
Despite himself, Arthur can’t stop a fond, exasperated smile from breaking. “Hello, Merlin. Nice to see you, too, Merlin. Would you like to sit down before you fall down?”
Merlin grins and flops down into the seat across from Arthur. “Hi,” he says sheepishly.
Arthur rolls his eyes. For a moment, he almost forgets the reason for being here, his attention fully captured by the man in front of him. But then Merlin peers down at the battery of glasses between them and raises his eyebrows.
“So when you said you had to tell me something, did you mean something bad, worse, or Apocalypse-scale catastrophic?”
Breaking his Great Wall of Scotch with a steady hand, Arthur slides a shot toward Merlin. “Go ahead.”
Merlin looks at him, bemused, but doesn’t touch it. “Arthur-”
“Just drink it up.”
“What’s so bad you can’t tell me when I’m sober?”
When Arthur doesn’t answer, taking a shot himself instead, Merlin’s expression abruptly turns grave and frightened.
“Oh God, Arthur, is someone sick? Is it your father? Is something wrong with Morgana?” Merlin’s eyes widen and he all but falls forward, colour draining from his face at an alarming speed. “Arthur, you’re not ill, are you? You should have told me, damn it, what were you thinking, I could have-”
“Merlin,” Arthur groans, grinding his teeth. “Just shut up and drink, will you?”
Merlin is still staring at him, looking betrayed and scared, but he finally picks up the glass. Merlin always throws his head back when doing shots; he once explained to Arthur that it was the only way he was certain he could keep it down. Arthur teased him that he was doing it for show, and indeed, it’s hard not to stare at Merlin’s throat, momentarily exposed and vulnerable. Arthur’s hand clenches into a fist under the table, and he makes himself look away.
“Done,” Merlin says, cringing, as he sets the glass down with a patter. “Now would you just tell me?”
Arthur takes a deep breath. “You’re going to hate me,” he sighs. “But I’m only doing it for your own good.”
“Oh my God. Arthur, what?”
Morgana had warned him not to interfere. She’d told him such things never went well, that the third party was always to blame in the end. It’s not any of his business - he should leave Merlin to discover the truth on his own, and then just be there for him.
But Arthur can’t. He can’t stand the thought that Merlin - always smiling, always too nice, too kind, too bloody naïve Merlin - is so happy and oblivious while he’s being betrayed in the worst possible way. If he has to take the brunt of Merlin’s anger, so be it. But Arthur won’t watch him be turned into a laughingstock any longer.
He forces himself to hold Merlin’s eyes, reaching across the table and wrapping his fingers around Merlin’s wrist. Bewildered, Merlin glances down briefly, leaning closer to Arthur subconsciously.
“It’s Gwaine,” Arthur says with quiet dejection.
“Gwaine?” Merlin looks confused. “What about him?”
“He’s sleeping with Elena,” Arthur blurts out, gripping Merlin’s wrist tighter. “From the gym. I walked by the other day and saw them... should have closed the bloody door. I’m sorry, Merlin.”
Merlin blinks several times, looking, if possible, even more puzzled than before. Finally, he gives a tiny shake of his head. “Arthur, I’m sorry, I don’t follow-”
Arthur grits his teeth, because honestly, what was so damn confusing about what he had said? Is Merlin some kind of masochist to make him spell it out?
“He’s cheating on you, you idiot!” Arthur snaps, regretting his tone almost immediately.
Merlin blinks again and pulls back, his mouth falling open almost comically as he takes in the news. Arthur braces himself for the worst, including a pint of beer being upended over his head. He almost hopes it will be the drink throwing, because if Merlin chooses to break down in front of him, Arthur doesn’t think he can bear it.
Merlin emits a noise that makes Arthur look up at him sharply. Was that a sob? Is he going to-
Merlin is laughing.
It starts as a half-choked chuckle he desperately tries but spectacularly fails to keep down. Like a dam has fallen, Merlin’s laughter breaks free, loud and unstoppable, his whole frame shaking with it. He glances at the squadron of glasses on the table and cracks up again, falling against the back of his seat and sliding down helplessly, one hand covering his stomach.
“Merlin?” Arthur asks, alarmed, because certainly there wasn’t enough time for Merlin to go actually crazy over the revelation... was there?
“Arthur, you dolt.” Merlin pants, breathless. “I’m not dating Gwaine; I never did. Oh my God, this is-” He breaks up all over again.
Stunned, Arthur stares at him. There’s a strange buzzing in his ears, and he hasn’t drunk that much, surely?
“You’re not?” he repeats stupidly. “But I thought-”
Merlin shakes his head, still chuckling, then pulls himself up to his feet and slides around the small booth to sit beside Arthur. He wraps an arm around Arthur’s shoulders, beaming at him.
“I never dated Gwaine, Arthur, I swear to you.”
“But-” Arthur sputters, shifting restlessly.
Merlin’s sudden proximity isn’t helping his ever-mounting confusion. He usually takes time to prepare himself when he’s anticipating an outburst of physical affection from Merlin. It always takes him a while to steel himself, to make sure he doesn’t slip, doesn’t cling to Merlin, soaking in his warmth, and doesn’t give in to the temptation of taking deeper breaths or burying his face in Merlin’s hair.
He’s not ready now, and Merlin is actually drawing him closer, laughing at the look on Arthur’s face.
“You thought you were saving me from an unfaithful lover,” he all but coos. “Aw, Arthur, that is so sweet. I had no idea you cared so much.”
Confusion and frustration finally combine to produce a bolt of anger. Arthur shoves Merlin away. “But you’re always together!”
Merlin shakes his head, grinning. “We work together, Arthur, and we’re friends. Naturally, we like each other’s company.”
“But - but he’s always all over you!”
Merlin shrugs. “He’s affectionate. Big deal; he’s like that with everyone.”
“He - he kisses you all the time!”
At this, Merlin finally has the grace to blush and dip his head for a moment. “Not all the time,” he mutters. “It doesn’t mean anything.”
“How can it possibly not mean anything?” Arthur asks, now slurring a bit.
“Look, Arthur.” Merlin sighs. “Gwaine knows I’m not interested. I know he’s not interested. And it’s not like we make out or anything. I mean, Morgana kisses you, doesn’t she? And Gwen-”
“Yeah,” Arthur cuts him off. “Not on the lips, though.”
Merlin gives him a helpless half-shrug, looking vaguely embarrassed. “Well, okay, maybe that’s a little weird, I can see how you thought... But really, it’s nothing. It’s just how Gwaine is.”
“With you. It’s how he is with you, Merlin. No one else.”
“Fine.” Merlin nods, throwing his hands up. “It’s how he is with me. It doesn’t mean we’re dating, Arthur,” he says in a softer tone. “I’m sorry for giving you the wrong impression. He was with Elena, did you say?”
Arthur grunts in acknowledgment, and Merlin grins. “Thank God. He’s been pining after her for weeks now; I thought he would drive me crazy with all the moping.”
Arthur studies him carefully. His head is spinning quite a bit either from all the alcohol consumed on an empty stomach or the sheer sense of relief. “You’re not lying to me to make me feel better, are you? You’re really okay with it?”
Merlin rolls his eyes. “You know me, Arthur, I’m a terrible liar. And yes, I’m really down with it.”
Arthur smiles tentatively. “Even if it means no more free kisses for you?”
Merlin snorts. “I’ll survive.” There’s a mischievous glint in his eyes. “You never know - Elena might find it hot.”
Arthur groans, punching his arm. “You’re a terrible person. I’ve no idea why everyone’s convinced you’re so sweet and innocent.”
“Tricked you, didn’t I?” Merlin smirks.
“I think it’s all pretence,” Arthur tells him, drinking down another shot and feeling a little bit like he’s flying. “You put up this man-of-the-world front, but deep down you’re really shy and - and I don’t know - fragile - and Gwaine is just a pig with no manners and I’m - I’m-”
“Pissed,” Merlin supplies, but he’s grinning, taking a swig of his beer.
They sit in silence for a few moments, still comfortably close.
“I feel like a complete idiot,” Arthur admits, shaking his head ruefully. “I really thought I was - warning you.”
Merlin pats his knee. “For what it’s worth, I would have wanted to know. So thanks.”
Arthur looks at him, studying his profile, until Merlin finally turns to meet his eyes.
“What?”
Arthur bites his lip and then reaches, helpless, to run his fingers through Merlin’s hair. Merlin’s eyes slide half-closed for a moment. He doesn’t pull away.
“I do care, you know,” Arthur says quietly. “I really do, Merlin.”
Merlin looks at him for the longest time, his expression soft, but unreadable. Finally he shifts, leaning closer, eyes zeroing in on Arthur’s lips.
“How do you feel about free kisses, Arthur?”
Arthur’s fingers slide to caress Merlin’s jaw, his free hand tugging him closer by the waist. Why did he never know it would be this simple? How could he not have known?
“They’ll have to mean something,” Arthur murmurs, his heart beating wildly somewhere in his throat. “With me, they’ll have to-”
Merlin’s smile is fleeting, but luminous. “With you, they will.”
--
Somewhere at the other end of the town, Elena walks into her bedroom and stops short at the sight of Gwaine grinning smugly in his sleep.
Title: Noble Intentions (fluff doesn't get to have a clever title)
Author:
kianspo
Beta:
secret_chord25 (I forced her)
Pairing: Arthur/Merlin (references to Gwaine/Elena)
Genre: modern AU, romance, fluff, first time
Rating: PG-13
Word count: ~ 1980
Warnings: Um, your dentist will hate me? Also, gratuitous consumption of alcohol.
Spoilers: none
Summary: Arthur needs to tell Merlin some really bad news. He needs liquid courage to do it.
A/N: I have NO IDEA what's wrong with me. No really.
Arthur orders four shots and two pints. The moment the drinks arrive, he drinks down two shots, surveys the table, orders eight more, and takes down another two. The barmaid gives him a funny look but doesn’t say anything beyond a telltale curving of her eyebrows.
Arthur stares down at the assembled alcohol. He arranges the shots in a perfectly straight line and sets the pints at either side of it, like bastions guarding a castle wall. Arthur sighs. It seems like an extremely inadequate line of defence against what he knows is coming.
Merlin is late as always. Arthur has been watching the door for at least twenty minutes when Merlin finally stumbles in, shaking off his coat, rain drops glistening in his hair. He looks windswept and his cheeks are flushed from the cold, but he’s smiling slightly, his eyes sliding closed for a moment as the warm air inside engulfs him. He might be purring in pleasure, because a passing girl gives him an amused look and Merlin grins at her in a mild apology.
Then he spots Arthur, and the wattage of his smile hits maximum.
Merlin leaves his coat but keeps his scarf. He’s tugging at the sleeves of his thin black jumper so that they’ll cover his knuckles as he makes his way toward Arthur, looking a little like a teen magazine model and a lot like a drenched puppy.
Arthur drinks down another shot and thinks that he’s going to kill Gwaine, or at the very least beat him up good. The bastard deserves it.
“I’m so sorry, Arthur,” Merlin starts breathlessly, eyes huge and impossibly earnest. “I got stuck at work, then missed my ride, and then the bloody train stopped - can you believe it - and then I forgot they closed down the Gray’s for reconstruction and had to walk around and I only just got here, I’m so sorry. Have you been waiting long?”
Despite himself, Arthur can’t stop a fond, exasperated smile from breaking. “Hello, Merlin. Nice to see you, too, Merlin. Would you like to sit down before you fall down?”
Merlin grins and flops down into the seat across from Arthur. “Hi,” he says sheepishly.
Arthur rolls his eyes. For a moment, he almost forgets the reason for being here, his attention fully captured by the man in front of him. But then Merlin peers down at the battery of glasses between them and raises his eyebrows.
“So when you said you had to tell me something, did you mean something bad, worse, or Apocalypse-scale catastrophic?”
Breaking his Great Wall of Scotch with a steady hand, Arthur slides a shot toward Merlin. “Go ahead.”
Merlin looks at him, bemused, but doesn’t touch it. “Arthur-”
“Just drink it up.”
“What’s so bad you can’t tell me when I’m sober?”
When Arthur doesn’t answer, taking a shot himself instead, Merlin’s expression abruptly turns grave and frightened.
“Oh God, Arthur, is someone sick? Is it your father? Is something wrong with Morgana?” Merlin’s eyes widen and he all but falls forward, colour draining from his face at an alarming speed. “Arthur, you’re not ill, are you? You should have told me, damn it, what were you thinking, I could have-”
“Merlin,” Arthur groans, grinding his teeth. “Just shut up and drink, will you?”
Merlin is still staring at him, looking betrayed and scared, but he finally picks up the glass. Merlin always throws his head back when doing shots; he once explained to Arthur that it was the only way he was certain he could keep it down. Arthur teased him that he was doing it for show, and indeed, it’s hard not to stare at Merlin’s throat, momentarily exposed and vulnerable. Arthur’s hand clenches into a fist under the table, and he makes himself look away.
“Done,” Merlin says, cringing, as he sets the glass down with a patter. “Now would you just tell me?”
Arthur takes a deep breath. “You’re going to hate me,” he sighs. “But I’m only doing it for your own good.”
“Oh my God. Arthur, what?”
Morgana had warned him not to interfere. She’d told him such things never went well, that the third party was always to blame in the end. It’s not any of his business - he should leave Merlin to discover the truth on his own, and then just be there for him.
But Arthur can’t. He can’t stand the thought that Merlin - always smiling, always too nice, too kind, too bloody naïve Merlin - is so happy and oblivious while he’s being betrayed in the worst possible way. If he has to take the brunt of Merlin’s anger, so be it. But Arthur won’t watch him be turned into a laughingstock any longer.
He forces himself to hold Merlin’s eyes, reaching across the table and wrapping his fingers around Merlin’s wrist. Bewildered, Merlin glances down briefly, leaning closer to Arthur subconsciously.
“It’s Gwaine,” Arthur says with quiet dejection.
“Gwaine?” Merlin looks confused. “What about him?”
“He’s sleeping with Elena,” Arthur blurts out, gripping Merlin’s wrist tighter. “From the gym. I walked by the other day and saw them... should have closed the bloody door. I’m sorry, Merlin.”
Merlin blinks several times, looking, if possible, even more puzzled than before. Finally, he gives a tiny shake of his head. “Arthur, I’m sorry, I don’t follow-”
Arthur grits his teeth, because honestly, what was so damn confusing about what he had said? Is Merlin some kind of masochist to make him spell it out?
“He’s cheating on you, you idiot!” Arthur snaps, regretting his tone almost immediately.
Merlin blinks again and pulls back, his mouth falling open almost comically as he takes in the news. Arthur braces himself for the worst, including a pint of beer being upended over his head. He almost hopes it will be the drink throwing, because if Merlin chooses to break down in front of him, Arthur doesn’t think he can bear it.
Merlin emits a noise that makes Arthur look up at him sharply. Was that a sob? Is he going to-
Merlin is laughing.
It starts as a half-choked chuckle he desperately tries but spectacularly fails to keep down. Like a dam has fallen, Merlin’s laughter breaks free, loud and unstoppable, his whole frame shaking with it. He glances at the squadron of glasses on the table and cracks up again, falling against the back of his seat and sliding down helplessly, one hand covering his stomach.
“Merlin?” Arthur asks, alarmed, because certainly there wasn’t enough time for Merlin to go actually crazy over the revelation... was there?
“Arthur, you dolt.” Merlin pants, breathless. “I’m not dating Gwaine; I never did. Oh my God, this is-” He breaks up all over again.
Stunned, Arthur stares at him. There’s a strange buzzing in his ears, and he hasn’t drunk that much, surely?
“You’re not?” he repeats stupidly. “But I thought-”
Merlin shakes his head, still chuckling, then pulls himself up to his feet and slides around the small booth to sit beside Arthur. He wraps an arm around Arthur’s shoulders, beaming at him.
“I never dated Gwaine, Arthur, I swear to you.”
“But-” Arthur sputters, shifting restlessly.
Merlin’s sudden proximity isn’t helping his ever-mounting confusion. He usually takes time to prepare himself when he’s anticipating an outburst of physical affection from Merlin. It always takes him a while to steel himself, to make sure he doesn’t slip, doesn’t cling to Merlin, soaking in his warmth, and doesn’t give in to the temptation of taking deeper breaths or burying his face in Merlin’s hair.
He’s not ready now, and Merlin is actually drawing him closer, laughing at the look on Arthur’s face.
“You thought you were saving me from an unfaithful lover,” he all but coos. “Aw, Arthur, that is so sweet. I had no idea you cared so much.”
Confusion and frustration finally combine to produce a bolt of anger. Arthur shoves Merlin away. “But you’re always together!”
Merlin shakes his head, grinning. “We work together, Arthur, and we’re friends. Naturally, we like each other’s company.”
“But - but he’s always all over you!”
Merlin shrugs. “He’s affectionate. Big deal; he’s like that with everyone.”
“He - he kisses you all the time!”
At this, Merlin finally has the grace to blush and dip his head for a moment. “Not all the time,” he mutters. “It doesn’t mean anything.”
“How can it possibly not mean anything?” Arthur asks, now slurring a bit.
“Look, Arthur.” Merlin sighs. “Gwaine knows I’m not interested. I know he’s not interested. And it’s not like we make out or anything. I mean, Morgana kisses you, doesn’t she? And Gwen-”
“Yeah,” Arthur cuts him off. “Not on the lips, though.”
Merlin gives him a helpless half-shrug, looking vaguely embarrassed. “Well, okay, maybe that’s a little weird, I can see how you thought... But really, it’s nothing. It’s just how Gwaine is.”
“With you. It’s how he is with you, Merlin. No one else.”
“Fine.” Merlin nods, throwing his hands up. “It’s how he is with me. It doesn’t mean we’re dating, Arthur,” he says in a softer tone. “I’m sorry for giving you the wrong impression. He was with Elena, did you say?”
Arthur grunts in acknowledgment, and Merlin grins. “Thank God. He’s been pining after her for weeks now; I thought he would drive me crazy with all the moping.”
Arthur studies him carefully. His head is spinning quite a bit either from all the alcohol consumed on an empty stomach or the sheer sense of relief. “You’re not lying to me to make me feel better, are you? You’re really okay with it?”
Merlin rolls his eyes. “You know me, Arthur, I’m a terrible liar. And yes, I’m really down with it.”
Arthur smiles tentatively. “Even if it means no more free kisses for you?”
Merlin snorts. “I’ll survive.” There’s a mischievous glint in his eyes. “You never know - Elena might find it hot.”
Arthur groans, punching his arm. “You’re a terrible person. I’ve no idea why everyone’s convinced you’re so sweet and innocent.”
“Tricked you, didn’t I?” Merlin smirks.
“I think it’s all pretence,” Arthur tells him, drinking down another shot and feeling a little bit like he’s flying. “You put up this man-of-the-world front, but deep down you’re really shy and - and I don’t know - fragile - and Gwaine is just a pig with no manners and I’m - I’m-”
“Pissed,” Merlin supplies, but he’s grinning, taking a swig of his beer.
They sit in silence for a few moments, still comfortably close.
“I feel like a complete idiot,” Arthur admits, shaking his head ruefully. “I really thought I was - warning you.”
Merlin pats his knee. “For what it’s worth, I would have wanted to know. So thanks.”
Arthur looks at him, studying his profile, until Merlin finally turns to meet his eyes.
“What?”
Arthur bites his lip and then reaches, helpless, to run his fingers through Merlin’s hair. Merlin’s eyes slide half-closed for a moment. He doesn’t pull away.
“I do care, you know,” Arthur says quietly. “I really do, Merlin.”
Merlin looks at him for the longest time, his expression soft, but unreadable. Finally he shifts, leaning closer, eyes zeroing in on Arthur’s lips.
“How do you feel about free kisses, Arthur?”
Arthur’s fingers slide to caress Merlin’s jaw, his free hand tugging him closer by the waist. Why did he never know it would be this simple? How could he not have known?
“They’ll have to mean something,” Arthur murmurs, his heart beating wildly somewhere in his throat. “With me, they’ll have to-”
Merlin’s smile is fleeting, but luminous. “With you, they will.”
--
Somewhere at the other end of the town, Elena walks into her bedroom and stops short at the sight of Gwaine grinning smugly in his sleep.