Merlin fanfic: Can't Buy Me Love (1/6)
Can’t Buy Me Love (1/6)
edited version (with all parts in single post) on AO3Pairings: Merlin/Arthur, Merlin/Gwaine, Gwen/Arthur, Gwen/Lancelot
Rating: up to 17+
Words: 7234 (of 47 225)
Warnings: no sex yet, author’s sense of humour, plot
Summary: Merlin hires a date for his high school graduation dinner. They’re never going to see each other again, especially not when Merlin’s moving across the country for University. So while it may be slightly embarrassing, it isn’t complicated …until the fellow first year hitting on Merlin turns out to be one of his hired date’s best friends.
1. Desperate and Dateless
…has been Merlin’s high school moniker since he was fourteen.
He attends one of the smallest high schools in an average sized suburb. Most parents in the area pretend they live somewhere else and send their children to less beleaguered schools in neighbouring suburbs. Since his neighbour/best friend/boyfriend moved away, Merlin is the only Gay student - so far as anyone knows.
~
Will and Merlin were inseparable for years. When they got together as more than friends they naturally assumed they’d grow old as a couple. They’d been sneaking in the odd snog here and there since the age of thirteen. Will’s mother remarried when they were fourteen and Will naturally stayed with Merlin while the newlyweds went on their honeymoon. The young couple nipped next door every day to feed pets, water plants, collect mail, prevent dust bunnies claiming dominion over all and sundry, and make out. They were more adept at making out than the other things, as Will’s stepfather discovered when he caught them lying in a breathless bundle of limbs on the couch. He almost dropped Will’s Mum on her arse he was so enraged to learn his wife’s son was a poofter. After shouting repeatedly at Merlin to get out he turned on Will’s mother.
“Don’t claim you didn’t know woman!”
Will tried to follow Merlin but was dragged back by the arm. Merlin could hear the argument escalating as he ran home. It continued for hours. A knock on his bedroom window at three am woke him. He let Will in and kissed him. They kissed frantically and went the furthest they’d been by touching each other inside their pyjamas. They’d had their sexual progression planned out for months and this wasn’t supposed to happen for at least another year, but such a dramatic union seemed necessary to release their fear and tension.
“Is she kicking him out?” Merlin asked.
“No.”
“She can’t be on his side after he acted like that!” Hunith had prevented more than one friendship with a man becoming romance for Merlin’s sake. Merlin felt guilty about it each time, but never for long. Hunith made sure he knew it was her decision to put the mother-son relationship first. ‘I made you, and am responsible for your well-being. If I find a man willing to fit into our family rather than recreate it in his own image then it will be different.’
“Well she is,” Will was justifiably ticked. “She went off at me for ruining everything for her. ‘I’ve been lonely for so long since your father died, surely I deserve some happiness after years of sacrifice.’ They’re going to live in his house now and sell ours instead. We’ll be hours away. Besides Mum, you’re all I’ve got.”
“Stay here, with me.”
It was the wrong thing to say, because Will did. When Will’s mother found out in the morning she took him away immediately, without packing a bag or anything. The stepfather followed and a moving van came for their things later in the week. Will tried calling once and wrote twice, but he couldn’t give Merlin the number or address to write back and his email account was shut down to prevent them having any contact.
Merlin was seen as the cursed cause of the whole, sorry situation, deemed a trouble making sexual deviant and avoided by the entire student population. His mother couldn’t afford to move or send him to a different school. For three years he made the best of it.
~
No Prince Charming or Knight Valiant is going to sweep the poor unfortunate dweeb onto the back of a motorcycle and break the jinx by taking him to the traditional grad dinner-dance, so Merlin gets a second part-time job six months before graduation and squirrels away his funds to hire a date. He’ll pick the hottest bloke he can afford. It doesn’t matter whether the guy’s an escort or a full-on prostitute as long as looking at him makes the other seniors happy in their pants.
With three weeks to go, Merlin finally finds his Boy for Sale over the internet. Only a year or two older, naturally gorgeous, sounds equally delicious on the phone, confirms bookings via webcam to ensure neither party is a seventy year old Grandpa or fifteen year old girl. Payment on Delivery, no cheques or credit, ‘refuse to pay and I beat the shit of you’ - and by the looks of that shower shot he could too.
Oh-YUM!
2. Boy for Sale
“What’s your name?” Merlin asks when his net order date arrives. “While ‘Boy for Sale’ has a nice ring to it, I don’t want to be calling you that all night.” Not out loud anyway. In his mind that’s exactly how Merlin refers to him. His number is stored in Merlin’s mobile under BFS. Looking at him in that suit (hired by Merlin and therefore not tailored to maximise his stature) tie imperfectly knotted, with wax moulding his fiery blond hair so he looks like a surfer rather than a Ken doll, and leaning casually against his car, Merlin considers storing BFS under his bed, in his bed, on his desk, against the car…hang on, what are they talking about?
“Call me whatever you want. It’s your dollar,” BFS replies with a shrug as he opens the passenger door and walks around to the driver’s side.
He’s an absolute scorcher to look at. Ball-swelling blue eyes, masculine defined facial features, almost Roman nose, broad shoulders, not too narrow hips, comfortable looking arse, and lips that hypnotically suggest kissing for hours without fatigue. Merlin wonders if he kept enough splash cash to include a blowjob in the deal. Everything about his Boy for Sale screams stamina, athleticism and guaranteed orgasm. Built for Sex…
Shame he’s a complete arse!
“Considering how much you cost you could at least feign enthusiasm. Or perhaps you majored in phone/webcam acting, and I’m your first 3D job.”
“I can give your deposit back if you’d prefer an inflatable date,” BFS smirks, reaching for his wallet.
Smarmy git.
Sexy smarmy git.
Sexy, sexy, smarmy.
Sexy, sexy, sexy…
Merlin’s brain becomes stuck on that point like the stylus on his mother’s record player consistently sticks at ‘you sexy thing, sexy thing you’ on her Hot Chocolate record. “Pick your own name while we drive along. Shift whatever percentage of your fee buys naming privileges into the friendly smile column.”
It sounds like BFS murmurs ‘spitfire’ but he might just be sucking air through his teeth in irritation. “I’m not calling you love names.”
“Thank Christ for small mercies. So then Boy for Sale, what’s your name?”
“Oliver.”
Merlin laughs.
“Ah, you got that reference did you?” BFS is far sexier when he smiles. The igloo of strangeness around them cracks a little and begins to melt along the break.
“I did.”
“Tell me how we met then Merlin, for when someone asks.”
“No-one will ask. I became the invisible boy once my boyfriend left town.”
“So you’re properly Gay then?”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“You get a lot of pranksters in this line of work.”
“Oh. Yes, I’m properly Gay.”
“You realise dancing costs extra?”
“I allowed for that.” Merlin didn’t pay for it up front in case he wasn’t in the mood.
“The last poor dweeb didn’t.”
“You should list your wares like a motel breakfast menu. Then we can tick everything we want and budget accordingly.”
“I’m merely a fly-by-night. The base rate stays the same, details vary dweeb to dweeb. This is how I’ve been financing my gap year.”
“Had a dweeb punch you in the face for being an arrogant twat?” Merlin asks irritably.
“No,” he answers without taking offence.
“Tonight could be a first for you then.”
“Doubt that,” BFS counters smugly. “I’ve had more than one guy offer me his car to spend the night.”
“If this is one of them, your bedside manner clearly fails to live up to expectations.”
BFS laughs as he expertly parks across the road from Merlin’s school. “I always said no. Cash only.”
“So what does my deposit cover ‘Oliver’?” Merlin asks to clarify before opening the door.
“Friendly chit-chat, hand holding, public grab on the arse if you want one, pretending you’re the most wonderful thing that ever happened to me and that I can’t wait to gobble your knob in the nearest unlocked classroom. Actually doing that costs you more.” He smiles as he says it and his head does this unpretentious flick to get a stray bit of fringe out of his eye.
“Course it does.” So, he’s a sexy smarmy git with a sense of humour. Merlin wouldn’t mind having enough money to buy him outright.
“No refund if you manage to pick up, dramatic break up scene costs extra.”
“How many of those have you done?” Merlin can’t imagine there’d be many.
“None. They’d rather spend the same money to feel my hand down their pants than go off with the bloke they were trying to make jealous in the first place.”
‘How much to feel your lips around my cock?’ Merlin wonders as they get out of the car.
BFS links his fingers with Merlin’s. “No, this doesn’t feel right. Change sides.” Merlin can feel the different layers of the unusual ring on Oliver’s index finger as they switch hands. Merlin repeats the pseudonym in his head. “This seems more like ‘us’, agreed?”
It does feel more natural. “You’re the professional,” Merlin quips and hopes his dimples assure Oliver he doesn’t mean it as an insult.
Oliver chuckles. “You’re the least demanding date I’ve had. You could do this job.”
“No-one would hire me.” He can’t get a date for free, for Christ’s sake.
“Course they would. You’d be surprised how desperate lonely people can be.”
This remark makes the indicator on Merlin’s wank-o-meter shift away from ‘sexy with sense of humour’ back to ‘arrogant arsehole’. “That padding so recently added to your wallet equals an evening of feigned praise and adoration. I already have a life-time supply of insults free of charge, thank you.”
Merlin concludes this was a stupid idea as they enter the hall without speaking. Already this is proving to be a complete waste of money. Neither the Sixth Years setting up nor the graduating class will believe a dweeb like Merlin snagged a shallow, arrogant hottie like ‘Oliver’. A reassuring squeeze of his hand takes him by surprise.
“It’ll be fine.”
“What if you find someone you want to hook up with?” Why didn’t Merlin think of that before? He’ll be a greater pariah than before and out of pocket for the privilege.
“I’m on the clock. There’d be no point anyway. I’m not from anywhere near here and Uni starts after summer. I have no intention of flitting back here during breaks when I’m bound to be snowed under with assessment tasks. Plus I’m hoping to get plenty of on-campus shags.”
Oliver pulls out Merlin’s chair at the long central table then leans down to ask if he’d like a drink. His fingers touch the back of Merlin’s neck affectionately. Damn, he’s convincing! Merlin watches him line up at the temporary bar, not that there’ll be any liquor for sale. Half the class are underage when it comes to alcohol and cigarettes. A gaggle of girls immediately flock around Oliver. Eventually one word is heard clearly.
“Him?” the gaggle voice their disbelief as a unit.
“Him.”
“What a loss to the gene pool!”
“You can do better than that, surely!”
“You clearly don’t know Merlin like I do. If you’ll excuse me,” Oliver dismisses them with a tone that is somehow politely disrespectful. Merlin’s wank-o-meter is unable to give an accurate reading because the indicator has been in constant motion all evening. Oliver brings the drinks to the table then stretches an arm across the back of Merlin’s chair and whispers in his ear. “This isn’t going to work if you don’t behave as though I’m here with you.”
“You aren’t here with me. You’re here with my money,” Merlin murmurs into his glass.
“These people don’t know that.” Fingers stroke the back of Merlin’s neck again. Merlin closes his eyes as lust plays his spine like a xylophone.
Unholy Fuck!
3. Private Dancer
Merlin and his BFS chat about piffle all through the meal and banter as though they really are a couple. Oliver’s laughter is so contagious their section of table quickly becomes the most energetic.
“So how did you meet him?” Sophia asks, making it clear that Oliver is a demi-god and Merlin a steaming dog turd.
“Well Merlin?” Oliver asks.
“I’ll let you tell this one Oliver.” They’ve been taking it in turns telling stories of places they’ve been and experiences they’ve shared, managing to feed off each other’s creativity to weave something plausible every time. They smile at their audience and each other a lot.
“If I must, although it reveals me for the hopeless romantic I am.” Merlin nearly drowns in his drink. “It was his delightful dimples that reeled me in, see. He walked in to my favourite ice-cream parlour - you know the one where there’s none of that wholesome dairy-free rubbish…”
“So you aren’t really vegetarian?” Sophia asks. Her neglected date asks if Merlin’s really Gay or if that’s a put on for attention too. Oliver scolds him for not mentioning his dietary prejudices.
“I only went in there for you.” Merlin responds in a heartbeat. He hasn’t been a vegetarian since Will left, finding solace in the foods they denied themselves. None of these people deserve to know that.
Oliver leans to whisper in Merlin’s ear while doing that xylophonic, finger on neck thing. “Nice one.” The kiss he plants on Merlin’s neck takes Merlin by surprise. Merlin wishes he had a car to sell for cash as Oliver turns back to Sophia. “How can I resist someone who compromises their morals just to smile at me, especially with a smile like Merlin’s?”
He’s so good at spreading conversational fertilizer that Merlin has to continually remind himself that everything Oliver says is complete bollocks. ‘Bollocks, bollocks, bollocks,’ he chants as those lying lips press against his cheekbone. The litany successfully prevents Merlin turning to kiss him back. There’s bound to be a surcharge for that.
The other graduates seem to be buying it too. No-one looks at Merlin with disbelief as he dances with his rent-a-date, only envy. They talk quietly, though rarely during the slow dances. It feels like it did when he danced with Will. His head rests on Oliver’s shoulder and he quickly snaps upright. How can he be comparing Will with this prostitute escort?
“If my dancing’s that dull we could always add a bit of…”
“No. I wasn’t sleeping,” Merlin answers quickly. He doesn’t want to know what they could add a bit of. He wants this pretence to stop. It isn’t Oliver’s fault that he’s having such a good time and yet it is. Merlin doesn’t know what to do now.
“Stop for a drink perhaps?”
“Alright.” Merlin is confused by blurring lines. Oliver keeps behaving like a boyfriend. His gestures and language are natural, not exaggerated. Their established rapport doesn’t feel fake. When Oliver asks Merlin to dance again he says yes. He receives a blunt reminder that none of this is real a few songs later.
“If you want to top the night off with a snog…”
“That’s extra,” Merlin finishes for him, suddenly weary of the whole thing again.
“Ah,” Oliver hesitates. He must be equally tired of pretending to find Merlin interesting.
Merlin hasn’t been kissed since Will climbed in through his window and he’s being played like a xylophone by eight fingers instead of four. “How much?” he asks in a tell-tale exhale that takes the edge off the question. Oliver whispers an amount without his earlier buoyancy. “You can’t be serious!”
“It wouldn’t cost so much if it wasn’t worth every cent.”
“No simple snog could be wor-” oh god, it is! How can two mouths meeting cause a reaction like that through his whole body? Kissing Will, making Will come with his hand, Will making him come, none of that felt so damn erotic as this kiss. After a lengthy snog that is definitely worth the money, Oliver makes another offer.
“Going back to your place, mine or even the car for the whole shebang is double what you’ve already paid.” He says it seductively, directly into Merlin’s ear as though saying ‘make love to me Merlin’ instead of giving a price check. “If you’re up for it,” he adds with a suggestive move of their hips. One part of Merlin’s up for it and what he feels growing between them fosters the illusion but he knows that even if he could afford it, his answer would be the same.
“No thanks.”
“Then I’m calling time on this job.”
Boy for Sale starts putting distance between them and Merlin wonders why he feels like he’s just been dumped. Merlin closes the distance and expresses his displeasure in Oliver’s ear. “Our deal was the whole formal. Leave now and you owe me a refund.” Merlin sticks to the reality of the situation.
“You reckon, Spitfire?”
“I reckon I can complain to those companies sponsoring your net ad if you’ve got a problem upholding your end of the agreement. Or make my own page to …” he’s interrupted by an attempt to kiss him again. “Stop wheedling money out of me. You’ve already bled my savings account dry you succubus.”
“Is that the only reason you said no to more?”
“Not the only reason. But it certainly made the top three,” Merlin admits. BFS tries to kiss him again. “I just finished telling you!”
“This one’s on the house.”
Merlin’s wank-o-meter spent the majority of the evening on ‘sexy with a sense of humour’ so he can’t resist this particular offer. His established opinions of possible and impossible become redundant when this snog surpasses the one he paid for. Oliver starts chattering on about piffle again. His comfortable manner and the free kiss make Merlin wonder how much of the evening has been bullshit and how much the genuine male behind the price tag. He hopes there has been more truth than lies because Oliver seems to genuinely like Merlin and Merlin certainly likes Oliver.
“Can I call you?” Merlin asks after he receives a bonus kiss goodnight on his doorstep.
“Sure you can, once your bank account’s full again.” BFS pats the fattened wallet in his hired jacket with a friendly grin.
Merlin is a mass of anger, resentment, dejection and rejection as he makes his lonely way through the front door. Oliver doesn’t even know what a heartless arsehole he is.
PRAT!
4. Hello
Merlin is housed in the scholarship dorm. That isn’t its actual name, but apparently students have called it that for generations. Merlin wouldn’t have travelled across the country and be surrounded by strangers if universities closer to home offered full scholarships. Not that he would have been surrounded by friends. He grumbles his story to the uncaring door of his allocated room as he jiggles the key in the wretched lock.
“You too? That’s my room by the way,” his female neighbour mentions cheerily as Merlin checks the room numbers. Her dimples are delightful, which makes him think of that sexy, smarmy git Oliver and their phony meet-up story. He scowls some more. “Fine then,” she frowns. Her dark eyes seem to darken like chocolate buttons scorched in the microwave.
“Sorry, I’m not grumpy at you. Just, emotional baggage, you know?” Merlin insists defensively and tries to smile in apology. ‘Dimples, don’t fail me now.’
“If I carried as many possessions as I do emotional baggage, I’d be a wealthy woman,” she laughs in understanding.
“Me too, not the woman part, obviously.” He extends his hand politely. “I’m Merlin.”
“Gwen.” Her delightful dimples make a successful return to centre stage. Merlin has seen this phenomenon before in the way Sophia twinkled at Oliver. Gwen’s flirting with him!
“I’m sure I specified a Gay dorm to improve my chances of bonking at least one of my neighbours.”
“I specifically wrote ‘willing to share with hetero males only’ on my application in vivid green ink, with carefully labelled diagrams. Looks like that plan was an epic fail,” Gwen happily admits defeat.
“They’re forcing us to concentrate on our studies by removing all immediate sources of casual fornication!” Merlin declares, as though the university is feeding them rats for dinner.
“Enforced abstinence isn’t my cup of tea either. Want a hand with your crap? I meant valuables.”
Gwen grimaces at her gaff and Merlin laughs at Gwen’s grimace. “Let’s face it, if I had valuables I’d be housed in a different dorm.”
After unpacking Merlin’s crap - “Call this a room? It’s a cell! They really do mean to turn me into a monk” - Gwen gives him a tour of their floor and building. They take out their campus maps, locate the most important places - dining hall, bars, canteens, swimming pool, bus stops - and find as many of the three dimensional counterparts as possible before returning to the dining hall for dinner. Gwen has all the characteristics Merlin cherishes in a person: wit, friendliness, cheer, expressive facial features that hint at everything she’s thinking, no fear of strangers. All she needs is a penis and Merlin would be asking her back to his room. It’s nice to know the feeling’s kind of mutual.
“Why is it always Gay boys I hit it off with like this?” Gwen laments. “Something about me must say ‘Let’s be friends’ when I mean ‘bonk me now’!”
“You could skank it up a bit. I hear straight boys like their girls the way I like my breakfast eggs - over easy.”
“That analogy’s just…awful.” It doesn’t stop Gwen chuckling though.
They attend Orientation Week activities together, never staying too long or getting too drunk because neither of them are party animals. In fact, they were both deemed socially inept and inadequate during high school.
“Now is our time to shine Merlin. Forget all the rubbish that happened before and embrace the life we could have had if we’d dared tell our detractors where to shove it and how far.”
Merlin is convinced by Gwen’s enthusiasm. Being sensible enough to exchange mobile numbers in case one of them needs an excuse to bail on a bad hook up, or simply needs bail, curbs their confidence somewhat as neither manages to hook up once.
It turns out they are both pursuing teaching careers. Gwen aims to become a primary school teacher, covering all key learning areas and hoping for early to middle primary classes. The late primary students are too close to high school age and attitudes for Gwen. Merlin intends to teach the sciences to high school students.
“Hopefully by then they can blow their own noses and have stopped peeing in their pants,” he explains with a smile.
“Hopefully,” Gwen smiles back. They doubt they’ll share any subjects but take out their timetables just in case.
They have one lecture together, Pedagogy 1A on Tuesdays.
“What in the name of ridiculous sounding words is pedagogy?” Merlin asks.
“Teaching, you nit.”
“It sounds like a foot fetish.”
Gwen laughs along.
After the first two weeks acclimatising to his new surrounds Merlin discovers that he has a friend in the adjacent cell; a mattress free of bedbugs; no bodily fluid stains on any of his walls, floor or furniture; the toilets flush; the showers work; he remembered to pack all his underwear and outer clothing; and the food provided in the dining hall is entirely edible. His first day of lectures and tutorials is a breeze.
Something suckful is bound to happen.
5. I Will Follow Him
He’s a wee bit late to Pedagogy 1A on Tuesday. His Chemistry 1A tutorial ran overtime and he misread the map. The campus is so huge, going to the wrong building and finding his way to the correct one costs him another ten minutes. Merlin hurries to the closest empty seat and tries to remove pen and lecture pad from his bag as quietly as possible. Of course his bag then tips over as he puts it down and the contents spill noisily beneath the seats immediately in front of him.
Crap!
Two heads turn back and up to deliver similar expressions of dismay. The nearest has dark brown eyes, with dark, chin-length wavy hair and equally dark stubble. The second is blue-eyed, blond, clean-shaven and frozen in shock as he and Merlin recognise each other.
Mega crap!
Merlin has travelled cross-country for university only to end up face-to-face with the pratful Boy for Sale he hired for graduation. He wonders who is in the more shameful position: the guy paid to be some high school boy’s date, or the boy who paid him. He concedes it’s probably the boy who paid him, seeing as Merlin has yet to delete the mobile number stored under BFS.
The lecturer calls up the amphitheatre. “You there - disruptive, tardy person in the upper row! Come down here and put your name on a tutorial sheet. Do it now.” Professor Lake waves a sheet of paper in the air and continues her introductory lecture. Great, only one tutorial session doesn’t clash with those already set. Four pm Friday, the crappiest tutorial time ever scheduled!
On the upside, Mr Dark-eyes Wavy-hair checks Merlin out all the way back to his seat, going so far as to turn and watch him sit down. “Hello there,” he drawls, draped alluringly over the back of his seat as he continues ogling Merlin. Someone clearly has no sense of the word ‘subtle’.
“At least pretend to show some restraint, Gwaine.” Boy for Sale tells him off with a tone implying this is a constant admonition that Gwaine never listens to.
Gwaine winks at Merlin and turns forward. Merlin notices the companion on the other side of BFS also has dark brown eyes and dark, wavy hair as he shoots Gwaine a glance of disdain. Merlin thinks BFS sits between them like a piece of golden cheese between two hunks of pumpernickel. He probably shouldn’t have skipped breakfast this morning. At least the food metaphor stops him dwelling on how inhumanly gorgeous the three of them are. The last thing he needs to be distracted by is images of orgies starring Gwaine, his clean-shaven bookend and their mutual friend, the male prostitute.
Unholy fuck!
Merlin’s hands are in for a busy time tonight.
Gwaine keeps bending down to pick up Merlin’s dropped items and handing them back - one at a time.
“For crying out loud Gwaine, ask for Merlin’s name and number and be done with it!” BFS grumbles haughtily.
“How’d you know his name’s Merlin?” the other hunk of pumpernickel asks with undisguised curiosity.
“Because, Lancelot,” BFS swishes the fancy biro he’s writing with, “it’s engraved on his pen.” He passes the pen Hunith gave Merlin as a graduation gift to Gwaine, who then uses it to write his name, mobile number and on-campus address on a piece of paper. BFS glowers at the hand passing pen and paper back to Merlin, then at Merlin’s hand accepting pen and paper, then at Merlin’s face.
Merlin suspects this is some sort of set up. Gwaine and BFS are clearly friends. Gwaine is clearly a rake. Merlin is financially limited. BFS knows this. Therefore they can’t be planning to gangbang and rob him. BFS doesn’t seem impressed by Merlin gaining Gwaine’s attention so they can’t be planning to gangbang Merlin and put it on rudetube or something. Does BFS want to be more than friends with Gwaine?
Merlin calls Gwaine’s mobile to test the waters and hears it buzz in Gwaine’s pocket. Gwaine reaches down to answer it. “Just checking it’s a real number,” Merlin says quietly and hangs up as Gwaine chuckles. He jots his name and mobile number on the bottom half of Gwaine’s paper, tears it off and passes it forward.
Gwaine reads the note, folds it and tucks it into his jeans with a nudge to BFS’s ribs and a victorious grin. BFS responds with a vaguely paternal look that makes Merlin think of an apathetic parent telling their child that thing they made is ‘very nice, go play outside’ and then putting the heartfelt creation in the bin while the child isn’t looking. Merlin thinks he must look desperate, giving his details to a guy he hasn’t even met. But then, Gwaine gave Merlin his details first. And he’s hot!
Gwaine turns around as soon as the lecture is over. “I will be calling you later. Be naked.”
“I think I just jizzed my pants,” Merlin’s response is disjointed because it isn’t far from the truth.
“I know I did,” Gwaine replies with a smouldering look as he leaves Merlin standing in a bubble of WOW!
BFS tells his matching set of friends he’ll meet them at the Sporties canteen after a quick word with Professor Lake. He prevents Merlin going after them by stepping on the strap of his bag. Merlin kicks the foot off and shoulders the bag.
“You may not have noticed Toto, but we’re not in high school anymore.”
BFS grabs a corner of Merlin’s sleeve. “Tell Gwaine we’ve already met and how, and you’ll be floating along the river in bite size pieces.”
“Do you always threaten strangers?” Merlin quips and BFS calms down.
“Sorry. I didn’t think you were a complete idiot but I couldn’t take that chance. Lancelot and Gwaine know nothing about that.”
“For both our sakes it better stay that way. Mr Smoulder-holes-in-my-jeans won’t bother calling one of your dweebs.”
“About Gwaine, he’s got no morals, positively none. You be careful.”
“You threaten to turn me into fish food then warn me off your friend, are you always so consistent? Or perhaps you want him for yourself?” Merlin’s mind wavers between taking his caution as genuine and dismissing it as jealousy.
BFS ignores Merlin’s barb. “Gwaine’s a six foot, constantly lit, roman candle. You may be a spitfire Merlin but I doubt you’ll fare well when he goes off. He’s a man-eater.”
“Then he better be hungry.” Merlin strides off before BFS causes more confusion. It isn’t until he turns to see BFS gone that Merlin realises he doesn’t know his real name.
6. Call Me
Gwaine texts him at nine pm: get naked, I’m about to call.
Merlin doesn’t get naked although it sure is tempting.
“You better be naked too,” is how Merlin answers the phone and is thankful for caller identification. That’s one phrase he never wants to say to his mother.
“Fresh out of the shower,” Gwaine replies and Merlin’s imagination goes to Rio as Gwaine talks nothing but smut to him for twenty eight minutes. “Shit, my boys are home and I’m on the couch with a giant hard on peeping through my towel!” Merlin hears Gwaine bound through his on-campus residence. A door closes and Gwaine puffs into the phone. “That was close. Lancelot’s always telling me off for wanking in the shared living areas. Now where were we?”
“You were describing the path your tongue wants to take along my clavicles.” Merlin’s pants are on the floor and his cock is in his hand.
“Oh god yeah. Let me get into position here.” Merlin hears the familiar sound of a mattress shifting under a person’s weight followed by the simple, involuntary breath taken by a man enjoying the feel of fingers stroking his cock. “So I plan to start at…”
They exchange naughty thoughts and wank together. Merlin feels no shame in coming first. This is his first raunchy phone conversation and it’s been magnificent from start to finish.
“Hearing you come makes me wonder what you look like right now. I want to make you do it in person. I want to feel your cum land on me.” Gwaine makes a series of short, sharp grunts and then exhales in relief. Merlin gives his drooping cock and balls another squeeze. “I’m calling you earlier tomorrow so we can actually talk you lust bunny, text me with an appropriate time. Right now I’m heading for another shower before my boys use all the hot water. I will be calling back.”
Gwaine calls back Wednesday and Thursday night as well. Apart from a few flirty comments they have normal conversations. Merlin learns that Gwaine and ‘his boys’ have been friends for years, inseparable throughout high school. They only spent their gap year apart because they couldn’t agree on where to go or what to do, and called each other regularly for the first month until the erosion to their budgets became noticeable. They signed up for shared on-campus accommodation the moment they discovered there was a university willing to educate all three of them. “We’re co-dependent!” Gwaine exclaims with pride.
“You’re insecure knobs,” Merlin replies.
“Hey, if your mate Will hadn’t been spirited away, you two would be like us.”
“If Will hadn’t been spirited away I probably wouldn’t be with you,” Merlin tells him honestly.
Gwaine changes the topic. They only have one course subject in common, Pedagogy 1A, same as Gwen. Merlin feels guilty about not scanning the hundreds of faces in the lecture theatre to look for his friend. He’d been so thrown off by seeing BFS and then openly admired by Gwaine that he forgot Gwen was there. They haven’t been in the dining hall at the same time for dinner since Monday. Tuesday Merlin stayed in his dorm room, eating generic cheese and generic salami on generic crackers while he waited for Gwaine to call. Wednesdays he has a biology practical that finishes at six pm. Thursdays he has chem prac from six pm til eight. Despite throwing Gwaine in his path, it seems the Universe does not want Merlin getting laid.
He shares this theory with Gwaine.
“Have no fear Merlin. The Universe hasn’t managed to beat me in a fight yet. Lancelot’s declaring lights out.” Gwaine presses the phone to his chest to yell at Lancelot. Merlin can tell because of the soft thud of Gwaine’s heartbeat in his ear, almost as if Merlin’s lying on his chest. He likes it. “I heard you; you pair of cock-blocking Sergeant Majors! Yes, it’s Merlin. What?” Gwaine’s heartbeat is replaced by silence.
Merlin sits up on his bed and checks the call status because he doubts the Sgt Majors killed their housemate. Still connected, definitely muted on Gwaine’s end. What the …? Should he wait or assume Gwaine’s an arrogant arsehole like his blond boy and disconnect the call?
“Yoo-hoo, Merlin? You there?” Gwaine asks suddenly.
“Nope, are you?”
“Not entirely. I only have half an arse left since my boys chewed the other half off over leaving the milk out of the toilet, or not flushing the fridge, or whatever they feel like ganging up on me about this time.”
“Are they ‘together’, your boys?”
“What a couple they’d make!” Gwaine laughs. “Lancelot’s straight and Arthur doesn’t know what he wants.”
“You mean he’s Bi?”
“I’m Bi Merlin. I mean he doesn’t know what he wants. Only what he doesn’t, which consists of anything involving me. So many opportunities for threesomes wasted. Cock tease. Anyway, as I’m not the one paying for our accommodation I must obey orders from my superior officers and say goodnight Merlin. So, goodnight Merlin, I will call you again.”
“Goodnight Gwaine.” Gwaine signs off cheerfully enough but Merlin isn’t as cheerful as he disconnects. He has a lot to think about.
Gwaine’s Bi, so he’s not just a man-eater. Oliver’s name is Arthur. Oliver, who is Arthur, doesn’t know what he wants, only that it isn’t Gwaine. Gwaine claims the Universe hasn’t beaten him in a fight, but it seems to Merlin like he fought for Arthur more than once and didn’t win either time. Gwaine muted his phone after telling Lancelot and Arthur he was talking to Merlin. Is Gwaine using Merlin to make Arthur jealous?
He has no morals…you be careful.
Merlin thinks perhaps he should take that advice after all.
7. Love on the Menu
Gwen and Merlin catch each other at breakfast and simultaneously try to apologise for neglecting their first on-campus friend. All is forgiven after comparing timetables and discovering they won’t have much social time together during the week this semester. Monday, Tuesday dinner and Friday lunch looks to be the maximum. Gwen forgives Merlin for Tuesday all over again when he tells her about meeting someone.
“You lucky sod!” Gwen enthuses jealously.
“That’s enough of that language.”
“I know comparing you to a lump of dirt isn’t very flattering,” Gwen begins in dimpled apology.
“You really don’t know what that’s short for do you?” Merlin smiles at her naïve confusion. “Never mind then. Have you made any other friends?”
They agree to meet up for lunch at the Chalkie cafeteria. Unlike Merlin, who is a Chalkie-Boffin hybrid and can therefore enjoy the privileges of both education and science student unions, Gwen’s a thoroughbred Chalkie and can only join one student union.
“Sucks to be you,” Merlin declares as he leaves the table and Gwen pegs her empty single-serve cereal box at his backside.
Fridays are upside down for Merlin. He has the first three hours free, then a tutorial for the mathematics class only offered through distance ed. This is followed by a two hour gap, then statistics and then his final tutorial of the week, Pedagogy 1A. By which time Merlin expects his brain to be dead. In preparation for impending brain death he naps away the first three hours instead of hitting the library to study his set readings. It’s only first week. He’ll get the routine right next time.
“Merlin!” Gwen’s voice calls across the Chalkie cafeteria at lunch.
Of course she’s standing and waving madly to ensure Merlin and everyone else knows where she is. That girl has no shame. Merlin has a difficult time believing her wallflower stories when she carries on like this. Then again, he has a difficult time believing his own after a few days of exposure to Gwaine. He waves back and eventually breaks through the crowds like a surfer through a tubular wave. Not that he’s ever tried surfing, or been near a beach, but it certainly looks like it feels awesome - much like the masculine trio he is surprised to see gathered at Gwen’s circular table. Gwaine lifts a recently abandoned chair and places it between his seat and Gwen’s, though noticeably closer to his.
BFS clearly isn’t happy about Merlin joining them. ‘His name is Arthur!’ Merlin reminds himself and repeats the name in his head until it sounds ridiculous. ‘Arthur, Arthur, Arthur, Arthur, Arthur.’
“This is him,” Gwen is all brightness and pride as if she made Merlin herself and now he’s won first prize in something, “my neighbour and first friend on campus that I was telling you about.”
“We’ve met.” Gwaine brings his seat a little closer to Merlin’s so he can comfortably put an arm around him.
“So you’re the hottie keeping him in all night.” Gwen makes it sound like they’re sex addicts when this is the first time they’ve made physical contact. First week doesn’t allow for much beyond chasing down text books, readings booklets and other crap essential to tertiary education.
“I may have mentioned you to Gwen, once, this morning, over breakfast.” Merlin’s explanation comes to an end when Gwaine suddenly starts snogging him. It isn’t as entrancing as either snog he received from Arthur at graduation but Gwaine’s certainly enthusiastic. Merlin snogs back.
“Did you have to call him over Guinevere? It’s bad enough coming home to find Gwaine wanking while talking to him on the phone, let alone sitting next to them while we’re trying to eat.” Arthur’s comment isn’t sharp but it severs the hormonal rush binding Merlin’s mouth to Gwaine’s.
“Guinevere?” Merlin chortles as if this is the reason he came up for air.
“That is my name,” Gwen replies haughtily.
“You never told me Gwen was short for something posh.”
“You never asked.” Her eyes turn to Arthur and sparkle.
Oh god, another one!
“Do you collect naturally tan people with brown curly hair and dark brown eyes for a reason, or are they simply drawn to you like children to an ice-cream van?” Merlin asks. It’s meant to be a joke but it comes out sounding rather mean. Arthur may not know what he wants but he seems to know what he likes in a phenotype and blue-eyed, black-haired, fair-skinned Merlin clearly isn’t it. Luckily Gwaine laughs and the blue eyes starting to narrow angrily return to normal, then smile.
“You may be onto something there Merlin. Guinevere tells us her fun, goofy neighbour is a science major. Perhaps you could write a thesis on this strange pattern over which I have absolutely no control.” So Arthur is equally charming when he isn’t being paid.
Gwen laughs and not in a giddy, flirty, girlie way, gaining Arthur and Lancelot’s full attention.
“So are you waiting until you have a room full of us then hosting a gang-bang with Arthur in the middle?” Gwaine provides a distraction. He must be thinking along the same lines as Merlin. Not about the gang-bang, although now that the seed has been planted in Merlin’s imagination…
“I said no to you for a reason Gwaine.”
“Are you all Gay?” Gwen asks in despair.
“Gwaine’s Bi,” Lancelot replies.
“Lancelot’s Straight,” Arthur contributes, as if this is some ritual they’ve performed for years.
“And Arthur’s…” Gwaine is interrupted.
“…had enough of this conversation,” Arthur declares.
Gwaine rapidly taps out a text to Merlin without his hand or phone leaving his pocket. Merlin’s mobile sings ‘Booty Call’ and Gwaine grins to hear the ring-tone assigned to his number.
Merlin laughs as he reads Gwaine’s message: a virgin. “Hardly!”
Arthur stares at Gwaine as though ordering his immediate execution. “That would be it,” he says coldly. “Sorry Guinevere, it was nice to meet you.” This time his voice and gaze are warm. Arthur takes her hand and kisses her fingers between the first and second knuckle as if she were a Dame of the realm. He doesn’t say anything to Merlin before leaving the table.
“When are you going to grow up Gwaine?” Lancelot asks and follows Arthur. He nods to Gwen like a loyal servant to his queen.
“Hang on, wait for me.” Gwen shoots an apologetic look and hurries after Lancelot - or maybe Arthur. They both appear equally happy to have her company.
“Well, that guaranteed us some privacy.” Gwaine grins again. Merlin wonders if that’s his natural expression. “You, me, at one of the Union bars tonight. You can pick. Just not Chalkies or Sporties, I don’t want to put up with Arthur’s lectures on inappropriate public contact.”
“LabRats?” Merlin suggests. May as well let his fellow science students know he’s neither desperate nor dateless from the outset.
“I’ll meet you at your dorm room at 9:30. Be dressed.”
continue...
edited version (with all parts in single post) on AO3Pairings: Merlin/Arthur, Merlin/Gwaine, Gwen/Arthur, Gwen/Lancelot
Rating: up to 17+
Words: 7234 (of 47 225)
Warnings: no sex yet, author’s sense of humour, plot
Summary: Merlin hires a date for his high school graduation dinner. They’re never going to see each other again, especially not when Merlin’s moving across the country for University. So while it may be slightly embarrassing, it isn’t complicated …until the fellow first year hitting on Merlin turns out to be one of his hired date’s best friends.
1. Desperate and Dateless
…has been Merlin’s high school moniker since he was fourteen.
He attends one of the smallest high schools in an average sized suburb. Most parents in the area pretend they live somewhere else and send their children to less beleaguered schools in neighbouring suburbs. Since his neighbour/best friend/boyfriend moved away, Merlin is the only Gay student - so far as anyone knows.
~
Will and Merlin were inseparable for years. When they got together as more than friends they naturally assumed they’d grow old as a couple. They’d been sneaking in the odd snog here and there since the age of thirteen. Will’s mother remarried when they were fourteen and Will naturally stayed with Merlin while the newlyweds went on their honeymoon. The young couple nipped next door every day to feed pets, water plants, collect mail, prevent dust bunnies claiming dominion over all and sundry, and make out. They were more adept at making out than the other things, as Will’s stepfather discovered when he caught them lying in a breathless bundle of limbs on the couch. He almost dropped Will’s Mum on her arse he was so enraged to learn his wife’s son was a poofter. After shouting repeatedly at Merlin to get out he turned on Will’s mother.
“Don’t claim you didn’t know woman!”
Will tried to follow Merlin but was dragged back by the arm. Merlin could hear the argument escalating as he ran home. It continued for hours. A knock on his bedroom window at three am woke him. He let Will in and kissed him. They kissed frantically and went the furthest they’d been by touching each other inside their pyjamas. They’d had their sexual progression planned out for months and this wasn’t supposed to happen for at least another year, but such a dramatic union seemed necessary to release their fear and tension.
“Is she kicking him out?” Merlin asked.
“No.”
“She can’t be on his side after he acted like that!” Hunith had prevented more than one friendship with a man becoming romance for Merlin’s sake. Merlin felt guilty about it each time, but never for long. Hunith made sure he knew it was her decision to put the mother-son relationship first. ‘I made you, and am responsible for your well-being. If I find a man willing to fit into our family rather than recreate it in his own image then it will be different.’
“Well she is,” Will was justifiably ticked. “She went off at me for ruining everything for her. ‘I’ve been lonely for so long since your father died, surely I deserve some happiness after years of sacrifice.’ They’re going to live in his house now and sell ours instead. We’ll be hours away. Besides Mum, you’re all I’ve got.”
“Stay here, with me.”
It was the wrong thing to say, because Will did. When Will’s mother found out in the morning she took him away immediately, without packing a bag or anything. The stepfather followed and a moving van came for their things later in the week. Will tried calling once and wrote twice, but he couldn’t give Merlin the number or address to write back and his email account was shut down to prevent them having any contact.
Merlin was seen as the cursed cause of the whole, sorry situation, deemed a trouble making sexual deviant and avoided by the entire student population. His mother couldn’t afford to move or send him to a different school. For three years he made the best of it.
~
No Prince Charming or Knight Valiant is going to sweep the poor unfortunate dweeb onto the back of a motorcycle and break the jinx by taking him to the traditional grad dinner-dance, so Merlin gets a second part-time job six months before graduation and squirrels away his funds to hire a date. He’ll pick the hottest bloke he can afford. It doesn’t matter whether the guy’s an escort or a full-on prostitute as long as looking at him makes the other seniors happy in their pants.
With three weeks to go, Merlin finally finds his Boy for Sale over the internet. Only a year or two older, naturally gorgeous, sounds equally delicious on the phone, confirms bookings via webcam to ensure neither party is a seventy year old Grandpa or fifteen year old girl. Payment on Delivery, no cheques or credit, ‘refuse to pay and I beat the shit of you’ - and by the looks of that shower shot he could too.
Oh-YUM!
2. Boy for Sale
“What’s your name?” Merlin asks when his net order date arrives. “While ‘Boy for Sale’ has a nice ring to it, I don’t want to be calling you that all night.” Not out loud anyway. In his mind that’s exactly how Merlin refers to him. His number is stored in Merlin’s mobile under BFS. Looking at him in that suit (hired by Merlin and therefore not tailored to maximise his stature) tie imperfectly knotted, with wax moulding his fiery blond hair so he looks like a surfer rather than a Ken doll, and leaning casually against his car, Merlin considers storing BFS under his bed, in his bed, on his desk, against the car…hang on, what are they talking about?
“Call me whatever you want. It’s your dollar,” BFS replies with a shrug as he opens the passenger door and walks around to the driver’s side.
He’s an absolute scorcher to look at. Ball-swelling blue eyes, masculine defined facial features, almost Roman nose, broad shoulders, not too narrow hips, comfortable looking arse, and lips that hypnotically suggest kissing for hours without fatigue. Merlin wonders if he kept enough splash cash to include a blowjob in the deal. Everything about his Boy for Sale screams stamina, athleticism and guaranteed orgasm. Built for Sex…
Shame he’s a complete arse!
“Considering how much you cost you could at least feign enthusiasm. Or perhaps you majored in phone/webcam acting, and I’m your first 3D job.”
“I can give your deposit back if you’d prefer an inflatable date,” BFS smirks, reaching for his wallet.
Smarmy git.
Sexy smarmy git.
Sexy, sexy, smarmy.
Sexy, sexy, sexy…
Merlin’s brain becomes stuck on that point like the stylus on his mother’s record player consistently sticks at ‘you sexy thing, sexy thing you’ on her Hot Chocolate record. “Pick your own name while we drive along. Shift whatever percentage of your fee buys naming privileges into the friendly smile column.”
It sounds like BFS murmurs ‘spitfire’ but he might just be sucking air through his teeth in irritation. “I’m not calling you love names.”
“Thank Christ for small mercies. So then Boy for Sale, what’s your name?”
“Oliver.”
Merlin laughs.
“Ah, you got that reference did you?” BFS is far sexier when he smiles. The igloo of strangeness around them cracks a little and begins to melt along the break.
“I did.”
“Tell me how we met then Merlin, for when someone asks.”
“No-one will ask. I became the invisible boy once my boyfriend left town.”
“So you’re properly Gay then?”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“You get a lot of pranksters in this line of work.”
“Oh. Yes, I’m properly Gay.”
“You realise dancing costs extra?”
“I allowed for that.” Merlin didn’t pay for it up front in case he wasn’t in the mood.
“The last poor dweeb didn’t.”
“You should list your wares like a motel breakfast menu. Then we can tick everything we want and budget accordingly.”
“I’m merely a fly-by-night. The base rate stays the same, details vary dweeb to dweeb. This is how I’ve been financing my gap year.”
“Had a dweeb punch you in the face for being an arrogant twat?” Merlin asks irritably.
“No,” he answers without taking offence.
“Tonight could be a first for you then.”
“Doubt that,” BFS counters smugly. “I’ve had more than one guy offer me his car to spend the night.”
“If this is one of them, your bedside manner clearly fails to live up to expectations.”
BFS laughs as he expertly parks across the road from Merlin’s school. “I always said no. Cash only.”
“So what does my deposit cover ‘Oliver’?” Merlin asks to clarify before opening the door.
“Friendly chit-chat, hand holding, public grab on the arse if you want one, pretending you’re the most wonderful thing that ever happened to me and that I can’t wait to gobble your knob in the nearest unlocked classroom. Actually doing that costs you more.” He smiles as he says it and his head does this unpretentious flick to get a stray bit of fringe out of his eye.
“Course it does.” So, he’s a sexy smarmy git with a sense of humour. Merlin wouldn’t mind having enough money to buy him outright.
“No refund if you manage to pick up, dramatic break up scene costs extra.”
“How many of those have you done?” Merlin can’t imagine there’d be many.
“None. They’d rather spend the same money to feel my hand down their pants than go off with the bloke they were trying to make jealous in the first place.”
‘How much to feel your lips around my cock?’ Merlin wonders as they get out of the car.
BFS links his fingers with Merlin’s. “No, this doesn’t feel right. Change sides.” Merlin can feel the different layers of the unusual ring on Oliver’s index finger as they switch hands. Merlin repeats the pseudonym in his head. “This seems more like ‘us’, agreed?”
It does feel more natural. “You’re the professional,” Merlin quips and hopes his dimples assure Oliver he doesn’t mean it as an insult.
Oliver chuckles. “You’re the least demanding date I’ve had. You could do this job.”
“No-one would hire me.” He can’t get a date for free, for Christ’s sake.
“Course they would. You’d be surprised how desperate lonely people can be.”
This remark makes the indicator on Merlin’s wank-o-meter shift away from ‘sexy with sense of humour’ back to ‘arrogant arsehole’. “That padding so recently added to your wallet equals an evening of feigned praise and adoration. I already have a life-time supply of insults free of charge, thank you.”
Merlin concludes this was a stupid idea as they enter the hall without speaking. Already this is proving to be a complete waste of money. Neither the Sixth Years setting up nor the graduating class will believe a dweeb like Merlin snagged a shallow, arrogant hottie like ‘Oliver’. A reassuring squeeze of his hand takes him by surprise.
“It’ll be fine.”
“What if you find someone you want to hook up with?” Why didn’t Merlin think of that before? He’ll be a greater pariah than before and out of pocket for the privilege.
“I’m on the clock. There’d be no point anyway. I’m not from anywhere near here and Uni starts after summer. I have no intention of flitting back here during breaks when I’m bound to be snowed under with assessment tasks. Plus I’m hoping to get plenty of on-campus shags.”
Oliver pulls out Merlin’s chair at the long central table then leans down to ask if he’d like a drink. His fingers touch the back of Merlin’s neck affectionately. Damn, he’s convincing! Merlin watches him line up at the temporary bar, not that there’ll be any liquor for sale. Half the class are underage when it comes to alcohol and cigarettes. A gaggle of girls immediately flock around Oliver. Eventually one word is heard clearly.
“Him?” the gaggle voice their disbelief as a unit.
“Him.”
“What a loss to the gene pool!”
“You can do better than that, surely!”
“You clearly don’t know Merlin like I do. If you’ll excuse me,” Oliver dismisses them with a tone that is somehow politely disrespectful. Merlin’s wank-o-meter is unable to give an accurate reading because the indicator has been in constant motion all evening. Oliver brings the drinks to the table then stretches an arm across the back of Merlin’s chair and whispers in his ear. “This isn’t going to work if you don’t behave as though I’m here with you.”
“You aren’t here with me. You’re here with my money,” Merlin murmurs into his glass.
“These people don’t know that.” Fingers stroke the back of Merlin’s neck again. Merlin closes his eyes as lust plays his spine like a xylophone.
Unholy Fuck!
3. Private Dancer
Merlin and his BFS chat about piffle all through the meal and banter as though they really are a couple. Oliver’s laughter is so contagious their section of table quickly becomes the most energetic.
“So how did you meet him?” Sophia asks, making it clear that Oliver is a demi-god and Merlin a steaming dog turd.
“Well Merlin?” Oliver asks.
“I’ll let you tell this one Oliver.” They’ve been taking it in turns telling stories of places they’ve been and experiences they’ve shared, managing to feed off each other’s creativity to weave something plausible every time. They smile at their audience and each other a lot.
“If I must, although it reveals me for the hopeless romantic I am.” Merlin nearly drowns in his drink. “It was his delightful dimples that reeled me in, see. He walked in to my favourite ice-cream parlour - you know the one where there’s none of that wholesome dairy-free rubbish…”
“So you aren’t really vegetarian?” Sophia asks. Her neglected date asks if Merlin’s really Gay or if that’s a put on for attention too. Oliver scolds him for not mentioning his dietary prejudices.
“I only went in there for you.” Merlin responds in a heartbeat. He hasn’t been a vegetarian since Will left, finding solace in the foods they denied themselves. None of these people deserve to know that.
Oliver leans to whisper in Merlin’s ear while doing that xylophonic, finger on neck thing. “Nice one.” The kiss he plants on Merlin’s neck takes Merlin by surprise. Merlin wishes he had a car to sell for cash as Oliver turns back to Sophia. “How can I resist someone who compromises their morals just to smile at me, especially with a smile like Merlin’s?”
He’s so good at spreading conversational fertilizer that Merlin has to continually remind himself that everything Oliver says is complete bollocks. ‘Bollocks, bollocks, bollocks,’ he chants as those lying lips press against his cheekbone. The litany successfully prevents Merlin turning to kiss him back. There’s bound to be a surcharge for that.
The other graduates seem to be buying it too. No-one looks at Merlin with disbelief as he dances with his rent-a-date, only envy. They talk quietly, though rarely during the slow dances. It feels like it did when he danced with Will. His head rests on Oliver’s shoulder and he quickly snaps upright. How can he be comparing Will with this prostitute escort?
“If my dancing’s that dull we could always add a bit of…”
“No. I wasn’t sleeping,” Merlin answers quickly. He doesn’t want to know what they could add a bit of. He wants this pretence to stop. It isn’t Oliver’s fault that he’s having such a good time and yet it is. Merlin doesn’t know what to do now.
“Stop for a drink perhaps?”
“Alright.” Merlin is confused by blurring lines. Oliver keeps behaving like a boyfriend. His gestures and language are natural, not exaggerated. Their established rapport doesn’t feel fake. When Oliver asks Merlin to dance again he says yes. He receives a blunt reminder that none of this is real a few songs later.
“If you want to top the night off with a snog…”
“That’s extra,” Merlin finishes for him, suddenly weary of the whole thing again.
“Ah,” Oliver hesitates. He must be equally tired of pretending to find Merlin interesting.
Merlin hasn’t been kissed since Will climbed in through his window and he’s being played like a xylophone by eight fingers instead of four. “How much?” he asks in a tell-tale exhale that takes the edge off the question. Oliver whispers an amount without his earlier buoyancy. “You can’t be serious!”
“It wouldn’t cost so much if it wasn’t worth every cent.”
“No simple snog could be wor-” oh god, it is! How can two mouths meeting cause a reaction like that through his whole body? Kissing Will, making Will come with his hand, Will making him come, none of that felt so damn erotic as this kiss. After a lengthy snog that is definitely worth the money, Oliver makes another offer.
“Going back to your place, mine or even the car for the whole shebang is double what you’ve already paid.” He says it seductively, directly into Merlin’s ear as though saying ‘make love to me Merlin’ instead of giving a price check. “If you’re up for it,” he adds with a suggestive move of their hips. One part of Merlin’s up for it and what he feels growing between them fosters the illusion but he knows that even if he could afford it, his answer would be the same.
“No thanks.”
“Then I’m calling time on this job.”
Boy for Sale starts putting distance between them and Merlin wonders why he feels like he’s just been dumped. Merlin closes the distance and expresses his displeasure in Oliver’s ear. “Our deal was the whole formal. Leave now and you owe me a refund.” Merlin sticks to the reality of the situation.
“You reckon, Spitfire?”
“I reckon I can complain to those companies sponsoring your net ad if you’ve got a problem upholding your end of the agreement. Or make my own page to …” he’s interrupted by an attempt to kiss him again. “Stop wheedling money out of me. You’ve already bled my savings account dry you succubus.”
“Is that the only reason you said no to more?”
“Not the only reason. But it certainly made the top three,” Merlin admits. BFS tries to kiss him again. “I just finished telling you!”
“This one’s on the house.”
Merlin’s wank-o-meter spent the majority of the evening on ‘sexy with a sense of humour’ so he can’t resist this particular offer. His established opinions of possible and impossible become redundant when this snog surpasses the one he paid for. Oliver starts chattering on about piffle again. His comfortable manner and the free kiss make Merlin wonder how much of the evening has been bullshit and how much the genuine male behind the price tag. He hopes there has been more truth than lies because Oliver seems to genuinely like Merlin and Merlin certainly likes Oliver.
“Can I call you?” Merlin asks after he receives a bonus kiss goodnight on his doorstep.
“Sure you can, once your bank account’s full again.” BFS pats the fattened wallet in his hired jacket with a friendly grin.
Merlin is a mass of anger, resentment, dejection and rejection as he makes his lonely way through the front door. Oliver doesn’t even know what a heartless arsehole he is.
PRAT!
4. Hello
Merlin is housed in the scholarship dorm. That isn’t its actual name, but apparently students have called it that for generations. Merlin wouldn’t have travelled across the country and be surrounded by strangers if universities closer to home offered full scholarships. Not that he would have been surrounded by friends. He grumbles his story to the uncaring door of his allocated room as he jiggles the key in the wretched lock.
“You too? That’s my room by the way,” his female neighbour mentions cheerily as Merlin checks the room numbers. Her dimples are delightful, which makes him think of that sexy, smarmy git Oliver and their phony meet-up story. He scowls some more. “Fine then,” she frowns. Her dark eyes seem to darken like chocolate buttons scorched in the microwave.
“Sorry, I’m not grumpy at you. Just, emotional baggage, you know?” Merlin insists defensively and tries to smile in apology. ‘Dimples, don’t fail me now.’
“If I carried as many possessions as I do emotional baggage, I’d be a wealthy woman,” she laughs in understanding.
“Me too, not the woman part, obviously.” He extends his hand politely. “I’m Merlin.”
“Gwen.” Her delightful dimples make a successful return to centre stage. Merlin has seen this phenomenon before in the way Sophia twinkled at Oliver. Gwen’s flirting with him!
“I’m sure I specified a Gay dorm to improve my chances of bonking at least one of my neighbours.”
“I specifically wrote ‘willing to share with hetero males only’ on my application in vivid green ink, with carefully labelled diagrams. Looks like that plan was an epic fail,” Gwen happily admits defeat.
“They’re forcing us to concentrate on our studies by removing all immediate sources of casual fornication!” Merlin declares, as though the university is feeding them rats for dinner.
“Enforced abstinence isn’t my cup of tea either. Want a hand with your crap? I meant valuables.”
Gwen grimaces at her gaff and Merlin laughs at Gwen’s grimace. “Let’s face it, if I had valuables I’d be housed in a different dorm.”
After unpacking Merlin’s crap - “Call this a room? It’s a cell! They really do mean to turn me into a monk” - Gwen gives him a tour of their floor and building. They take out their campus maps, locate the most important places - dining hall, bars, canteens, swimming pool, bus stops - and find as many of the three dimensional counterparts as possible before returning to the dining hall for dinner. Gwen has all the characteristics Merlin cherishes in a person: wit, friendliness, cheer, expressive facial features that hint at everything she’s thinking, no fear of strangers. All she needs is a penis and Merlin would be asking her back to his room. It’s nice to know the feeling’s kind of mutual.
“Why is it always Gay boys I hit it off with like this?” Gwen laments. “Something about me must say ‘Let’s be friends’ when I mean ‘bonk me now’!”
“You could skank it up a bit. I hear straight boys like their girls the way I like my breakfast eggs - over easy.”
“That analogy’s just…awful.” It doesn’t stop Gwen chuckling though.
They attend Orientation Week activities together, never staying too long or getting too drunk because neither of them are party animals. In fact, they were both deemed socially inept and inadequate during high school.
“Now is our time to shine Merlin. Forget all the rubbish that happened before and embrace the life we could have had if we’d dared tell our detractors where to shove it and how far.”
Merlin is convinced by Gwen’s enthusiasm. Being sensible enough to exchange mobile numbers in case one of them needs an excuse to bail on a bad hook up, or simply needs bail, curbs their confidence somewhat as neither manages to hook up once.
It turns out they are both pursuing teaching careers. Gwen aims to become a primary school teacher, covering all key learning areas and hoping for early to middle primary classes. The late primary students are too close to high school age and attitudes for Gwen. Merlin intends to teach the sciences to high school students.
“Hopefully by then they can blow their own noses and have stopped peeing in their pants,” he explains with a smile.
“Hopefully,” Gwen smiles back. They doubt they’ll share any subjects but take out their timetables just in case.
They have one lecture together, Pedagogy 1A on Tuesdays.
“What in the name of ridiculous sounding words is pedagogy?” Merlin asks.
“Teaching, you nit.”
“It sounds like a foot fetish.”
Gwen laughs along.
After the first two weeks acclimatising to his new surrounds Merlin discovers that he has a friend in the adjacent cell; a mattress free of bedbugs; no bodily fluid stains on any of his walls, floor or furniture; the toilets flush; the showers work; he remembered to pack all his underwear and outer clothing; and the food provided in the dining hall is entirely edible. His first day of lectures and tutorials is a breeze.
Something suckful is bound to happen.
5. I Will Follow Him
He’s a wee bit late to Pedagogy 1A on Tuesday. His Chemistry 1A tutorial ran overtime and he misread the map. The campus is so huge, going to the wrong building and finding his way to the correct one costs him another ten minutes. Merlin hurries to the closest empty seat and tries to remove pen and lecture pad from his bag as quietly as possible. Of course his bag then tips over as he puts it down and the contents spill noisily beneath the seats immediately in front of him.
Crap!
Two heads turn back and up to deliver similar expressions of dismay. The nearest has dark brown eyes, with dark, chin-length wavy hair and equally dark stubble. The second is blue-eyed, blond, clean-shaven and frozen in shock as he and Merlin recognise each other.
Mega crap!
Merlin has travelled cross-country for university only to end up face-to-face with the pratful Boy for Sale he hired for graduation. He wonders who is in the more shameful position: the guy paid to be some high school boy’s date, or the boy who paid him. He concedes it’s probably the boy who paid him, seeing as Merlin has yet to delete the mobile number stored under BFS.
The lecturer calls up the amphitheatre. “You there - disruptive, tardy person in the upper row! Come down here and put your name on a tutorial sheet. Do it now.” Professor Lake waves a sheet of paper in the air and continues her introductory lecture. Great, only one tutorial session doesn’t clash with those already set. Four pm Friday, the crappiest tutorial time ever scheduled!
On the upside, Mr Dark-eyes Wavy-hair checks Merlin out all the way back to his seat, going so far as to turn and watch him sit down. “Hello there,” he drawls, draped alluringly over the back of his seat as he continues ogling Merlin. Someone clearly has no sense of the word ‘subtle’.
“At least pretend to show some restraint, Gwaine.” Boy for Sale tells him off with a tone implying this is a constant admonition that Gwaine never listens to.
Gwaine winks at Merlin and turns forward. Merlin notices the companion on the other side of BFS also has dark brown eyes and dark, wavy hair as he shoots Gwaine a glance of disdain. Merlin thinks BFS sits between them like a piece of golden cheese between two hunks of pumpernickel. He probably shouldn’t have skipped breakfast this morning. At least the food metaphor stops him dwelling on how inhumanly gorgeous the three of them are. The last thing he needs to be distracted by is images of orgies starring Gwaine, his clean-shaven bookend and their mutual friend, the male prostitute.
Unholy fuck!
Merlin’s hands are in for a busy time tonight.
Gwaine keeps bending down to pick up Merlin’s dropped items and handing them back - one at a time.
“For crying out loud Gwaine, ask for Merlin’s name and number and be done with it!” BFS grumbles haughtily.
“How’d you know his name’s Merlin?” the other hunk of pumpernickel asks with undisguised curiosity.
“Because, Lancelot,” BFS swishes the fancy biro he’s writing with, “it’s engraved on his pen.” He passes the pen Hunith gave Merlin as a graduation gift to Gwaine, who then uses it to write his name, mobile number and on-campus address on a piece of paper. BFS glowers at the hand passing pen and paper back to Merlin, then at Merlin’s hand accepting pen and paper, then at Merlin’s face.
Merlin suspects this is some sort of set up. Gwaine and BFS are clearly friends. Gwaine is clearly a rake. Merlin is financially limited. BFS knows this. Therefore they can’t be planning to gangbang and rob him. BFS doesn’t seem impressed by Merlin gaining Gwaine’s attention so they can’t be planning to gangbang Merlin and put it on rudetube or something. Does BFS want to be more than friends with Gwaine?
Merlin calls Gwaine’s mobile to test the waters and hears it buzz in Gwaine’s pocket. Gwaine reaches down to answer it. “Just checking it’s a real number,” Merlin says quietly and hangs up as Gwaine chuckles. He jots his name and mobile number on the bottom half of Gwaine’s paper, tears it off and passes it forward.
Gwaine reads the note, folds it and tucks it into his jeans with a nudge to BFS’s ribs and a victorious grin. BFS responds with a vaguely paternal look that makes Merlin think of an apathetic parent telling their child that thing they made is ‘very nice, go play outside’ and then putting the heartfelt creation in the bin while the child isn’t looking. Merlin thinks he must look desperate, giving his details to a guy he hasn’t even met. But then, Gwaine gave Merlin his details first. And he’s hot!
Gwaine turns around as soon as the lecture is over. “I will be calling you later. Be naked.”
“I think I just jizzed my pants,” Merlin’s response is disjointed because it isn’t far from the truth.
“I know I did,” Gwaine replies with a smouldering look as he leaves Merlin standing in a bubble of WOW!
BFS tells his matching set of friends he’ll meet them at the Sporties canteen after a quick word with Professor Lake. He prevents Merlin going after them by stepping on the strap of his bag. Merlin kicks the foot off and shoulders the bag.
“You may not have noticed Toto, but we’re not in high school anymore.”
BFS grabs a corner of Merlin’s sleeve. “Tell Gwaine we’ve already met and how, and you’ll be floating along the river in bite size pieces.”
“Do you always threaten strangers?” Merlin quips and BFS calms down.
“Sorry. I didn’t think you were a complete idiot but I couldn’t take that chance. Lancelot and Gwaine know nothing about that.”
“For both our sakes it better stay that way. Mr Smoulder-holes-in-my-jeans won’t bother calling one of your dweebs.”
“About Gwaine, he’s got no morals, positively none. You be careful.”
“You threaten to turn me into fish food then warn me off your friend, are you always so consistent? Or perhaps you want him for yourself?” Merlin’s mind wavers between taking his caution as genuine and dismissing it as jealousy.
BFS ignores Merlin’s barb. “Gwaine’s a six foot, constantly lit, roman candle. You may be a spitfire Merlin but I doubt you’ll fare well when he goes off. He’s a man-eater.”
“Then he better be hungry.” Merlin strides off before BFS causes more confusion. It isn’t until he turns to see BFS gone that Merlin realises he doesn’t know his real name.
6. Call Me
Gwaine texts him at nine pm: get naked, I’m about to call.
Merlin doesn’t get naked although it sure is tempting.
“You better be naked too,” is how Merlin answers the phone and is thankful for caller identification. That’s one phrase he never wants to say to his mother.
“Fresh out of the shower,” Gwaine replies and Merlin’s imagination goes to Rio as Gwaine talks nothing but smut to him for twenty eight minutes. “Shit, my boys are home and I’m on the couch with a giant hard on peeping through my towel!” Merlin hears Gwaine bound through his on-campus residence. A door closes and Gwaine puffs into the phone. “That was close. Lancelot’s always telling me off for wanking in the shared living areas. Now where were we?”
“You were describing the path your tongue wants to take along my clavicles.” Merlin’s pants are on the floor and his cock is in his hand.
“Oh god yeah. Let me get into position here.” Merlin hears the familiar sound of a mattress shifting under a person’s weight followed by the simple, involuntary breath taken by a man enjoying the feel of fingers stroking his cock. “So I plan to start at…”
They exchange naughty thoughts and wank together. Merlin feels no shame in coming first. This is his first raunchy phone conversation and it’s been magnificent from start to finish.
“Hearing you come makes me wonder what you look like right now. I want to make you do it in person. I want to feel your cum land on me.” Gwaine makes a series of short, sharp grunts and then exhales in relief. Merlin gives his drooping cock and balls another squeeze. “I’m calling you earlier tomorrow so we can actually talk you lust bunny, text me with an appropriate time. Right now I’m heading for another shower before my boys use all the hot water. I will be calling back.”
Gwaine calls back Wednesday and Thursday night as well. Apart from a few flirty comments they have normal conversations. Merlin learns that Gwaine and ‘his boys’ have been friends for years, inseparable throughout high school. They only spent their gap year apart because they couldn’t agree on where to go or what to do, and called each other regularly for the first month until the erosion to their budgets became noticeable. They signed up for shared on-campus accommodation the moment they discovered there was a university willing to educate all three of them. “We’re co-dependent!” Gwaine exclaims with pride.
“You’re insecure knobs,” Merlin replies.
“Hey, if your mate Will hadn’t been spirited away, you two would be like us.”
“If Will hadn’t been spirited away I probably wouldn’t be with you,” Merlin tells him honestly.
Gwaine changes the topic. They only have one course subject in common, Pedagogy 1A, same as Gwen. Merlin feels guilty about not scanning the hundreds of faces in the lecture theatre to look for his friend. He’d been so thrown off by seeing BFS and then openly admired by Gwaine that he forgot Gwen was there. They haven’t been in the dining hall at the same time for dinner since Monday. Tuesday Merlin stayed in his dorm room, eating generic cheese and generic salami on generic crackers while he waited for Gwaine to call. Wednesdays he has a biology practical that finishes at six pm. Thursdays he has chem prac from six pm til eight. Despite throwing Gwaine in his path, it seems the Universe does not want Merlin getting laid.
He shares this theory with Gwaine.
“Have no fear Merlin. The Universe hasn’t managed to beat me in a fight yet. Lancelot’s declaring lights out.” Gwaine presses the phone to his chest to yell at Lancelot. Merlin can tell because of the soft thud of Gwaine’s heartbeat in his ear, almost as if Merlin’s lying on his chest. He likes it. “I heard you; you pair of cock-blocking Sergeant Majors! Yes, it’s Merlin. What?” Gwaine’s heartbeat is replaced by silence.
Merlin sits up on his bed and checks the call status because he doubts the Sgt Majors killed their housemate. Still connected, definitely muted on Gwaine’s end. What the …? Should he wait or assume Gwaine’s an arrogant arsehole like his blond boy and disconnect the call?
“Yoo-hoo, Merlin? You there?” Gwaine asks suddenly.
“Nope, are you?”
“Not entirely. I only have half an arse left since my boys chewed the other half off over leaving the milk out of the toilet, or not flushing the fridge, or whatever they feel like ganging up on me about this time.”
“Are they ‘together’, your boys?”
“What a couple they’d make!” Gwaine laughs. “Lancelot’s straight and Arthur doesn’t know what he wants.”
“You mean he’s Bi?”
“I’m Bi Merlin. I mean he doesn’t know what he wants. Only what he doesn’t, which consists of anything involving me. So many opportunities for threesomes wasted. Cock tease. Anyway, as I’m not the one paying for our accommodation I must obey orders from my superior officers and say goodnight Merlin. So, goodnight Merlin, I will call you again.”
“Goodnight Gwaine.” Gwaine signs off cheerfully enough but Merlin isn’t as cheerful as he disconnects. He has a lot to think about.
Gwaine’s Bi, so he’s not just a man-eater. Oliver’s name is Arthur. Oliver, who is Arthur, doesn’t know what he wants, only that it isn’t Gwaine. Gwaine claims the Universe hasn’t beaten him in a fight, but it seems to Merlin like he fought for Arthur more than once and didn’t win either time. Gwaine muted his phone after telling Lancelot and Arthur he was talking to Merlin. Is Gwaine using Merlin to make Arthur jealous?
He has no morals…you be careful.
Merlin thinks perhaps he should take that advice after all.
7. Love on the Menu
Gwen and Merlin catch each other at breakfast and simultaneously try to apologise for neglecting their first on-campus friend. All is forgiven after comparing timetables and discovering they won’t have much social time together during the week this semester. Monday, Tuesday dinner and Friday lunch looks to be the maximum. Gwen forgives Merlin for Tuesday all over again when he tells her about meeting someone.
“You lucky sod!” Gwen enthuses jealously.
“That’s enough of that language.”
“I know comparing you to a lump of dirt isn’t very flattering,” Gwen begins in dimpled apology.
“You really don’t know what that’s short for do you?” Merlin smiles at her naïve confusion. “Never mind then. Have you made any other friends?”
They agree to meet up for lunch at the Chalkie cafeteria. Unlike Merlin, who is a Chalkie-Boffin hybrid and can therefore enjoy the privileges of both education and science student unions, Gwen’s a thoroughbred Chalkie and can only join one student union.
“Sucks to be you,” Merlin declares as he leaves the table and Gwen pegs her empty single-serve cereal box at his backside.
Fridays are upside down for Merlin. He has the first three hours free, then a tutorial for the mathematics class only offered through distance ed. This is followed by a two hour gap, then statistics and then his final tutorial of the week, Pedagogy 1A. By which time Merlin expects his brain to be dead. In preparation for impending brain death he naps away the first three hours instead of hitting the library to study his set readings. It’s only first week. He’ll get the routine right next time.
“Merlin!” Gwen’s voice calls across the Chalkie cafeteria at lunch.
Of course she’s standing and waving madly to ensure Merlin and everyone else knows where she is. That girl has no shame. Merlin has a difficult time believing her wallflower stories when she carries on like this. Then again, he has a difficult time believing his own after a few days of exposure to Gwaine. He waves back and eventually breaks through the crowds like a surfer through a tubular wave. Not that he’s ever tried surfing, or been near a beach, but it certainly looks like it feels awesome - much like the masculine trio he is surprised to see gathered at Gwen’s circular table. Gwaine lifts a recently abandoned chair and places it between his seat and Gwen’s, though noticeably closer to his.
BFS clearly isn’t happy about Merlin joining them. ‘His name is Arthur!’ Merlin reminds himself and repeats the name in his head until it sounds ridiculous. ‘Arthur, Arthur, Arthur, Arthur, Arthur.’
“This is him,” Gwen is all brightness and pride as if she made Merlin herself and now he’s won first prize in something, “my neighbour and first friend on campus that I was telling you about.”
“We’ve met.” Gwaine brings his seat a little closer to Merlin’s so he can comfortably put an arm around him.
“So you’re the hottie keeping him in all night.” Gwen makes it sound like they’re sex addicts when this is the first time they’ve made physical contact. First week doesn’t allow for much beyond chasing down text books, readings booklets and other crap essential to tertiary education.
“I may have mentioned you to Gwen, once, this morning, over breakfast.” Merlin’s explanation comes to an end when Gwaine suddenly starts snogging him. It isn’t as entrancing as either snog he received from Arthur at graduation but Gwaine’s certainly enthusiastic. Merlin snogs back.
“Did you have to call him over Guinevere? It’s bad enough coming home to find Gwaine wanking while talking to him on the phone, let alone sitting next to them while we’re trying to eat.” Arthur’s comment isn’t sharp but it severs the hormonal rush binding Merlin’s mouth to Gwaine’s.
“Guinevere?” Merlin chortles as if this is the reason he came up for air.
“That is my name,” Gwen replies haughtily.
“You never told me Gwen was short for something posh.”
“You never asked.” Her eyes turn to Arthur and sparkle.
Oh god, another one!
“Do you collect naturally tan people with brown curly hair and dark brown eyes for a reason, or are they simply drawn to you like children to an ice-cream van?” Merlin asks. It’s meant to be a joke but it comes out sounding rather mean. Arthur may not know what he wants but he seems to know what he likes in a phenotype and blue-eyed, black-haired, fair-skinned Merlin clearly isn’t it. Luckily Gwaine laughs and the blue eyes starting to narrow angrily return to normal, then smile.
“You may be onto something there Merlin. Guinevere tells us her fun, goofy neighbour is a science major. Perhaps you could write a thesis on this strange pattern over which I have absolutely no control.” So Arthur is equally charming when he isn’t being paid.
Gwen laughs and not in a giddy, flirty, girlie way, gaining Arthur and Lancelot’s full attention.
“So are you waiting until you have a room full of us then hosting a gang-bang with Arthur in the middle?” Gwaine provides a distraction. He must be thinking along the same lines as Merlin. Not about the gang-bang, although now that the seed has been planted in Merlin’s imagination…
“I said no to you for a reason Gwaine.”
“Are you all Gay?” Gwen asks in despair.
“Gwaine’s Bi,” Lancelot replies.
“Lancelot’s Straight,” Arthur contributes, as if this is some ritual they’ve performed for years.
“And Arthur’s…” Gwaine is interrupted.
“…had enough of this conversation,” Arthur declares.
Gwaine rapidly taps out a text to Merlin without his hand or phone leaving his pocket. Merlin’s mobile sings ‘Booty Call’ and Gwaine grins to hear the ring-tone assigned to his number.
Merlin laughs as he reads Gwaine’s message: a virgin. “Hardly!”
Arthur stares at Gwaine as though ordering his immediate execution. “That would be it,” he says coldly. “Sorry Guinevere, it was nice to meet you.” This time his voice and gaze are warm. Arthur takes her hand and kisses her fingers between the first and second knuckle as if she were a Dame of the realm. He doesn’t say anything to Merlin before leaving the table.
“When are you going to grow up Gwaine?” Lancelot asks and follows Arthur. He nods to Gwen like a loyal servant to his queen.
“Hang on, wait for me.” Gwen shoots an apologetic look and hurries after Lancelot - or maybe Arthur. They both appear equally happy to have her company.
“Well, that guaranteed us some privacy.” Gwaine grins again. Merlin wonders if that’s his natural expression. “You, me, at one of the Union bars tonight. You can pick. Just not Chalkies or Sporties, I don’t want to put up with Arthur’s lectures on inappropriate public contact.”
“LabRats?” Merlin suggests. May as well let his fellow science students know he’s neither desperate nor dateless from the outset.
“I’ll meet you at your dorm room at 9:30. Be dressed.”
continue...